An historical and moral view of the origin and progress of the French Revolution; and the effect it has produced in Europe. By Mary Wollstonecraft. ; Volume I.

AN HISTORICAL AND MORAL VIEW OF The French Revolution. BOOK I.

CHAPTER I.

Introduction. Progress of society. End of government. Rise of political discussion amongst the French. Re|volution in America. Virtue attempted to be built on false principles. The croisades, and the age of chi|valry. Administration of Richelieu, and of Cardi|nal Mazarin. Theatrical entertainments, and dra|matic poets of the French,—Moliere,—Corn••ille,— Racine. Louis XIV. The Regency. Louis XV.

WHEN we contemplate the infancy of man, his gradual advance towards maturity, hi•• miserable weakness as a solitary being, and the crudeness of his first notions respecting the na|ture of civil society, it will not appear extraordi|nary, that the acquirement of political knowledge has been so extremely slow; or, that public hap|piness has not been more rapidly and generally diffused.

The perfection attained by the ancients, it is true, has ever afforded the imagination of the poetical historian a theme to deck with the choicest flowers of rhetoric; though the cool investi|gation of facts seems clearly to prove, that the civilization of the world, hitherto, has consisted rather in cultivating the taste, than in exercising the understanding. And were not these vaunted improvements also confined to a small corner of the globe, whilst, the political view of the wisest legislators seldom extending beyond the splen|dor and aggrandizement of their individual na|tion, they trampled with a ferocious affectation of patriotism on the most sacred rights of humanity? When the arts flourished in Greece, and litera|ture began to shed it's blandishments on society, the world was mostly inhabited by barbarians, who waged eternal war with their more polished neighbours, the imperfection of whose govern|ment sapping it's foundation, the science of poli|tics necessarily received a check in the bud—and when we find, likewise, the roman empire crum|bling into atoms, from the germ of a deadly ma|lady implanted in it's vitals; whilst voluptuous|ness stopped the progress of civilization, which makes the perfection of the arts the dawn of sci|ence; we shall be convinced, that it demanded ages of improving reason and experience in moral philosophy, to clear away the rubbish, and ex|hibit the first principles of social order.

We have probably derived our great superi|ority over those nations from the discovery of the polar attraction of the needle, the perfection which astronomy and mathematics have attained, and the fortunate invention of printing. For,

whilst the revival of letters has added the col|lected wisdom of antiquity to the improvements of modern research, the latter most useful art has rapidly multiplied copies of the productions of genius and compilations of learning, bringing them within the reach of all ranks of men: the scientific discoveries also have not only led us to new worlds; but, facilitating the communica|tion between different nations, the friction of arts and commerce have given to society the trans|cendently pleasing polish of urbanity; and thus, by a gradual softening of manners, the com|plexion of social life has been completely changed. But the remains of superstition, and the unna|tural distinction of privileged cl••sses, which had their origin in barbarous folly, still fettered the opinions of man, and sullied his native dignity; till several distinguished English writers discussed political subjects with the energy of men, who began to feel their strength; and, whilst only a rumour of these sentiments roused the attention and exercised the minds of some men of letters in France, a number of staunch disputants, who had more thoroughly digested them, ••led from oppression, to put them to the test of experience in America.

Locke, following the track of these bold think|ers, recommended in a more methodical manner religious toleration, and analyzed the principles of civil liberty: for in his definition of liberty we find the elements of The Declaration of the Rights of Man, which, in spite of the fatal errors of ignorance, and the perverse obstinacy of selfish|ness, is now converting sublime theories into practical truths.

The revolution, it is true, soon introduced the corruption, that has ever since been corroding British freedom.—Still, when the rest of Europe groaned under the weight of the most unjust and cruel law••, the life and property of Englishmen were comparatively safe; and if an impress-war|rant respected the distinction of ranks, when the glory of England was at stake, splendid victories hid this flaw on the best existing constitution; and all exultingly recollected, that the life or li|berty of a man never depended on the will of an individual.

Englishmen were then, with reason, proud of their constitution; and, if this noble pride hath degenerated into arrogance, when the cause be|came less conspicuous, it is only a venial lapse of human nature; to be lamented merely as it stops the progress of civilization, and leads the people to imagine, that their ancestors have done every thing possible to secure the happiness of society, and meliorate the condition of man, because they have done much.

When learning was confined to a small num|ber of citizens of a state, and the ••estigation of it's priviledges was left to a number still smaller, governments seem to have acted, as if the people were formed only for them; and, ingeniously confounding their rights with metaphysical jar|gon, the luxurious grandeur of individuals has been supported by the misery of the bulk of their fellow creatures, and ambition gorged by the butchery of millions of innocent victims.

The most artful chain of depsotism has ever been supported by false notions of duty, enforced by those who were to profit by the cheat. Thus

has the liberty of man been restrained; and the spontaneous flow of his feelings, which would have fertilized his mind, being choked at the source, he is rendered in the same degree unhappy as he is made unnatural. Yet, certain opinions, planted by superstition and despotism, hand in hand, have taken such deep root in our habits of thinking, it may appear daringly licentious, as well as presumptuous, to observe, that what is often termed virtue, is only want of courage to throw off prejudices, and follow the inclinations which fear not the eye of heaven, though they shrink from censure not founded on the natural principles of morality. But at no period has the scanty diffusion of knowledge permitted the body of the people to participate in the discussion of political science; and if philosophy at length hath simplified the principles of social union, so as to render them easy to be comprehended by every sane and thinking being; it appears to me, that man may contemplate with benevolent compla|cency and becoming pride, the approaching reign of reason and peace.

Besides, if men have been rendered unquali|fied to judge with precision of their civil and po|litical rights, from the involved state in which so|phisticating ignorance has placed them, and thus reduced to surrender their reasoning powers to noble fools, and pedantic knaves, it is not surpriz|ing, that superficial observers have formed opi|nions unfavourable to the degree of perfection, which our intellectual faculties are able to attain, or that despotism should attempt to check the spirit of inquity, which, with colossian strides, seems to be hastening the overthrow of oppressive tyranny and contumelious ambition.

Nature having made men unequal, by giving stronger bodily and mental powers to one than to another, the end of government ought to be, to destroy this inequality by protecting the weak. Instead of which, it has always leaned to the op|posite side, wearing itself out by disregarding the first principle of it's organization.

It appears to be the grand province of go|vernment, though scarcely acknowledged, so to hold the balance, that the abilities or riches of individuals may not interfere with the equili|brium of the whole. For as it is vain to expect, that men should master their passions during the heat of action, legislators should have this perfec|tion of laws ever in view, when, calmly grasping the interest of humanity, reason assures them, that their own is best secured by the security of the common weal. The first social systems were certainly sounded by passion; individuals wishing to fence round their own wealth or power, and make slaves of their brothers to prevent en|croachment. Their descendants have ever been at work to solder the chains they forged, and render the usurpations of strength secure, by the fraud of partial laws: laws that can be abrogated only by the exertions of reason, emancipating mankind, by making government a science, in|stead of a craft, and civilizing the grand mass, by exercising their understandings about the most important objects of inquiry.

After the revolution in 1688, however, politi|cal questions were no longer discussed in Eng|land on a broad scale; because that degree of liberty was enjoyed, which enabled thinking men to pursue without interruption their own busi|ness; or, if some men complained, they attached

themselves to a party, and descanted on the un|avoidable misery produced by contending pas|sions.

But in France the bitterness of oppression was mingled in the daily cup, and the serious folly of superstition, pampered by the sweat of labour, stared every man of sense in the face. Against superstition then did the writers contending for civil liberty principally direct their force, though the tyranny of the court increased with it's vici|ousness.

Voltaire lo••ding the way, and ridiculing with that happy m••ure of s••tire and gaiety, calcula|ted to del•• the French, the inconsistent pueri|lities of a p••pp••t-show religion, had the art to attach the ••ils to the fool's cap, which tinkled on every si••e, ••o••sing the attention and piquing the vanity of his readers. Roussean also ranged himself on ••he same 〈◊〉〈◊〉; and, praising his fan|ciful state of nature▪ ••th that interesting elo|quence, which embel••snes reasoning with the charms of sentiment, forcibly depicted the evils of a priest-ridden society, and the sources of op|pressive inequality; inducing the men who were charmed with his language to consider his opi|nions.

The talents of these two writers were particu|larly formed to effect a change in the sentiments of the French, who commonly read to collect a fund for conversation; and their biting retorts, and flowing periods, were retained in each head, and continually slipped off the tongue in nume|rous sprightly circles.

In France, indeed, new opinions fly from mouth to mouth, with an electrical velocity un|known

in England; so that there is not such a difference between the sentiments of the various ranks in one country, as is observable in the origin|ality of character to be found in the other. At our theatres, the boxes, pit, and galleries, relish dif|ferent scenes; and some are condescendingly both by the more polished part of the audience, to allow the rest to have their portion of amuse|ment. In France, on the contrary, a highly wrought sentiment of morality, probably rather romantic than sublime, produces a burst of ap|plause, when one heart seems to agitate every hand.

But men are not content merely to laugh at oppression, when they can scarcely catch from his gripe the necessaries of life; so that from writing epigrams on superstition, the galled French began to compose philippics against des|potism. The enormous and iniquitous taxes, which the nobles, the clergy, and the monarch, levied on the people, turned the attention of be|nevolence to this main branch of government, and the profound treatise of the humane M. Quesnai produced the sect of the economists, the first champions for civil liberty.

On the eve of the American war, the enlight|ened administration of the comptroller general Turgot, a man formed in this school, afforded France a glimpse of Freedom, which, streaking the horizon of despotism, only served to render the contrast more striking. Eager to correct abuses, equally impolitic and cruel, this most excellent man, suffering his clear judgment to be clouded by his zeal, roused the nest of wasps, that rioted on the honey of industry in the sun|shine

of court favour; and he was obliged to retire from the office, which he so worthily filled. Disappointed in his noble plan of freeing France from the fangs of despotism, in the course of ten years, without the miseries of anarchy, which make the present generation pay very dear for the emancipation of posterity, he has never|theless greatly contributed to produce that re|volution in opinion, which perhaps, alone can overturn the empire of tyranny.

The idle ••prices of an effeminate court had long given the tone to the awe-struck populace, who, stupidly admiring what they did not under|stand, lived on a vive le roi, whilst his blood|sucking minions drained every vein, that should have warmed their honest hearts.

But the irresistible energy of the moral and political sentiments of half a century, at last kindled into a blaze the illuminating rays of truth, which, throwing new light on the men|tal powers of man, and giving a fresh spring to his reasoning faculties, completely undermined the strong holds of priestcraft and hypocrisy.

At this glorious era, the toleration of religious opinions in America, which the spirit of the times, when that continent was peopled with persecuted Europeans, produced, aided, not a little, to dif|fuse these rational sentiments, and exhibited the phenomenon of a government established on the basis of reason and equality. The eyes of all Europe were watchfully fixed on the practical success of this experiment in political science; and whilst the crowns of the old world were drawing into their focus the hard-earned re|compence of the toil and care of the simple citi|zens,

who lived detached from courts, deprived of the comforts of life, the just reward of industry, or, palsied by oppression, pined in dirt and idle|ness; the Anglo-Americans appeared 〈◊〉〈◊〉 be an|other race of beings, men formed to enjoy the advantages of society, and not merely to benefit those who governed; the use to which they had been appropriated in almost every state; con|sidered only as the ballast which keeps the vessel steady, necessary, yet dispised. So conspicuous in fact was the difference, that, when Frenchmen became the auxiliaries of those brave people, during their noble struggle against the tyrannical and inhuman ambition of the British court, it imparted to them that stimulus, which alone was wanting to give wings to freedom, who, hover|ing over France, led her indignant votaries to wreak their vengeance on the tottering fabric of a government, the foundation of which had been laid by benighted ignorance, and its walls ce|mented by the calamities of millions that mock calculation—and, in its ruins a system was en|tombed, the most baneful to human happiness and virtue.

America fortunately found herself in a situ|ation very different from all the rest of the world; for she had it in her power to lay the first stones of her government, when reason was venturing to canvass prejudice. Availing her|self of the degree of civilization of the world, she has not retained those customs, which were only the expedients of barbarism; or thought that constitutions formed by chance, and con|tinually patched up, were superior to the plans of reason, at liberty to profit by experience.

When society was first regulated, the laws could not be adjusted so as to take in the future conduct of its members, because the faculties of man are unfolded and perfected by the improve|ments made by society; consequently the regula|tions established as circumstances required were very imperfect. What then is to hinder man, at each epoch of civilization, from making a stand, and new modelling the materials, that have been ha••••••ly thrown into a rude mass, which time a••o•••• has consolidated and rendered venerable?

When society was first subjugated to laws, probably by the ambition of some, and the desire of safety in all, it was natural for men to be selfish, because they were ignorant how intimately their own comfort was connected with that of others; and it was also very natural, that hu|manity, rather the effect of feeling than of reason, should have a very limited range. But, when men once see, clear as the light of heaven,—and I hail the glorious day from afar!—that on the general happiness depends their own, reason will give strength to the fluttering wings of passion, and men will "do unto others, what they wish they should do unto them."

What has hitherto been the political perfection of the world? In the two most celebrated nations it has only been a polish of manners, an ex|tension of that family love, which is rather the effect of sympathy and selfish passion, than reason|able humanity. And in what has ended the•• so much extolled patriotism? In vain glory and barbarity—every page of history proclaims. And why has the enthusiasm for virtue thus passed

away like the dew of the morning, dazzling the eyes of its admirers? Why?—because it was factitious virtue.

During the period they had to combat against oppression, and rear an infant state, what in|stances of heroism do not the annals of Greece and Rome display! But it was merely the blaze of passion, "live smoke;" for after vanquishing their enemies, and making the most astonishing sacrifices to the glory of their country, they be|came civil tyrants, and preyed on the very society, for whose welfare it was easier to die, than to practise the sober duties of life, which insinuate through it the contentment that is rather felt than seen. Like the parents who forget all the dictates of justice and humanity, to aggrandize the very children whom they keep in a state of dependence, these heroes loved their country, because it was their country, ever showing by their conduct, that it was only a part of a narrow love of themselves.

It is time, that a more enlightened moral love of mankind should supplant, or rather support physical affections. It is time, that the youth ap|proaching manhood should be led by princi|ples, and not hurried along by sensations—and then we may expect, that the heroes of the present generation, still having their monsters to cope with, will labour to establish such rational laws throughout the world, that men will not rest in the dead letter, or become artificial beings as they become civilized.

We must get entirely clear of all the notions drawn from the wild traditions of original sin: the eating of the apple, the theft of Prometheus,

the opening of Pandora's box, and the other fables, too tedious to enumerate, on which priests have erected their tremendous structures of imposition, to persuade us, that we are natu|rally inclined to evil: we shall then leave room for the expansion of the human heart, and, I trust, find, that men will insensibly render each other happier as they grow wiser. It is indeed the necessity of stifling many of its most sponta|neous desires, to obtain the factitious virtues of society, that makes man vicious, by depriving him of that dignity of character, which rests only on truth. For it is not paradoxical to assert, that the social virtues are nipt in the bud by the very laws of society. One principle of action is sufficient—Respect thyself—whether it be termed fear of God—religion; love of justice—morality; or, self-love—the desire of happiness. Yet, how can a man respect himself; and if not, how be|lieve in the existence of virtue; when he is prac|tising the daily shifts, which do not come under the cognisance of the law, in order to obtain a respectable situation in life? It seems, in fact, to be the business of a civilized man, to harden his heart, that on it he may sharpen the wit; which, assuming the appellation of sagacity, or cunning, in different characters, is only a proof, that the head is clear, because the heart is cold.

Besides, one great cause of misery in the present imperfect state of society is, that the imagination, continually tantalized, becomes the inflated wen of the mind, draining off the nourishment from the vital parts. Nor would it, I think, be stretching the inference too far, to insist, that

men become vicious in the same proportion as they are obliged, by the defects of society, to submit to a kind of self-denial, which ignorance, not morals, prescribes.

But these evils are passing away; a new spirit has gone forth, to organise the body-politic; and where is the criterion to be found, to esti|mate the means, by which the influence of this spirit can be confined, now enthroned in the hearts of half the inhabitants of the globe? Reason has, at last, shown her captivating face, beaming with benevolence; and it will be im|possible for the dark hand of despotism again to obscure its radiance, or the lurking dagger of subordinate tyrants to reach her bosom. The image of God implanted in our nature is now more rapidly expanding; and, as it opens, liberty with maternal wing, seems to be soaring to re|gions far above vulgar annoyance, promising to shelter all mankind.

It is a vulgar error, built on a superficial view of the subject, though it seems to have the sanc|tion of experience, that civilization can only go as far as it has hitherto gone, and then must necessarily fall back into barbarism. Yet thus much appears certain, that a state will infallibly grow old and feeble, if hereditary riches support hereditary rank, under any description. But when courts and primogeniture are done away, and simple equal laws are established, what is to prevent each generation from retaining the vigour of youth?—What can weaken the body or mind, when the great majority of society must exercise both, to earn a subsistence, and acquire respectability?

The French revolution is a strong proof how far things will govern men, when simple prin|ciples begin to act with one powerful spring against the complicated wheels of ignorance; numerous in proportion to their weakness, and constantly wanting repair, because expedients of the moment are ever the spawn of cowardly folly, or the narrow calculations of selfishness. To elucidate this truth, it is not necessary to rake among the ashes of barbarous ambition; to show the ignorance and consequent folly of the monarchs, who ruled with a rod of iron, when the hordes of European savages began to form their governments; though the review of this portion of history would clearly prove, that narrowness of mind naturally produces ferocious|ness of temper.

We may boast of the poetry of those ages, and of those charming flights of imagination, which, during the paroxysms of passion, flash out in those single acts of heroic virtue, that throw a lustre over a whole thoughtless life; but the cultivation of the understanding, in spite of these northern lights, appears to be the only way to t••me men, whose restlessness of spirit create the vicious pas|sions, that lead to tyranny and cruelty. When the body is strong, and the blood warm, men do not like to think, or adopt any plan of conduct, unless broken-in by degrees: the force that has often spent itself in fatal activity becomes a rich source of energy of mind.

Men exclaim, only noticing the evil, against the luxury introduced with the arts and sciences; when it is obviously the cultivation of these alone,

emphatically termed the arts of peace, that can turn the sword into a plough-share. War is the adventure naturally pursued by the idle, and it requires something of this species, to excite the strong emotions necessary to rouse inactive minds. Ignorant people, when they appear to reflect, ex|ercise their imagination more than their under|standing; indulging reveries, instead of pursuing a train of thinking; and thus grow romantic, like the croisaders; or like women, who are com|monly idle and restless.

If we turn then with disgust from ensanguined regal pomp, and the childish raree-shows that amuse the enslaved multitude, we shall feel still more contempt for that order of men, who cul|tivated their faculties, only to enable them to consolidate their power, by leading the ignorant astray; making the learning they concentrated in their cells, a more polished instrument of op|pression. Struggling with so many impediments, the progress of useful knowledge for several ages was scarcely perceptible; though respect for the public opinion, that great softener of manners, and only substitute for moral principles, was gaining ground.

The croisades, however, gave a shake to so|ciety, that changed its face; and the spirit of chivalry, assuming a new character during the reign of the gallant Francis the first, began to meliorate the ferocity of the ancient Gauls and Franks. The point d'honneur being settled, the character of a gentleman, held ever since so dear in France, was gradually formed; and this kind of bastard morality, frequently the only substitute

for all the the ties that nature has rendered sacred, kept those men within bounds, who obeyed no other law.

The same spirit mixed with the sanguinary treachery of the Guises, and gave support to the manly dignity of Henry the fourth, on whom nature had bestowed that warmth of constitution, tenderness of heart, and rectitude of understand|ing, which naturally produce an energetic cha|racter—A supple force, that, exciting love, com|mands esteem.

During the ministry of Richelieu, when the dynasty of favouritism commenced, the arts were patronized, and the Italian mode of governing by intrigue to weaken bodies, polished by the friction of continual finesse. Dissimulation im|perceptibly slides into falshood, and Mazarin, dissimulation personified, paved the way for the imposing pomp and false grandeur of the reign of the haughty and inflated Louis XIV. which, by introducing a taste for majestic frivolity, acce|lerated the perfection of that species of civiliza|tion, which consists in the refining of the senses at the expence of the heart; the source of all real dignity, honour, virtue, and every noble quality of the mind. Endeavouring to make bigotry tolerate voluptuousness, and honour and licentiousness shake hands, sight was lost of the line of distinction, or vice was hid under the mask of it's correlative virtue. The glory of France, a bubble raised by the heated breath of the king, was the pretext for undermining hap|piness; whilst politeness took place of humanity, and created that sort of dependence, which leads men to barter their co••n and wire, for unwhole|some

mixtures of they know not what, that, flat|tering a depraved appetite, destroyed the tone of the stomach.

The feudal taste for tournaments and martial feasts was now naturally succeeded by a fondness for theatrical entertainments; when feats of va|lour became too great an exertion of the weak|ened muscles to afford pleasure, and men found that resource in cultivation of mind which ren|ders activity of body less necessary to keep the stream of life from stagnating.

All the pieces written at this period, except Moliere's, reflected the manners of the court, and thus pe••verted the forming taste. That ex|traordinary man alone wrote on the grand scale of human passions, for mankind at large, leaving to inferior authors the task of imitating the drapery of manners, which points out the costume of the age.

Corneille, like our Dryden, often tottering on the brink of absurdity and nonsense, full of noble ideas, which, crouding indistinctly on his fancy, he expresses obscurely, still delights his readers by sketching faint cut-lines of gigantic passions; and, whilst the charmed imagination is lured to follow him over enchanted ground, the heart is sometimes unexpectedly touched by a sublime o•• pathetic sentiment, true to nature.

Racine, soon after, in elegant harmonious lan|guage painted the manners of his time, and with great judgment gave a picturesque cast to many unnatural scenes and factitious sentiments: always endeavouring to make his characters amiable, he is unable to render them dignified; and the refined morality, scattered throughout, belongs

to the code of politeness rather than to that of virtue* 1.1. Fearing to stray from courtly propriety of behaviour, and shock a fastidious audience, the gallantry of his heroes interests only the gal|lant, and literary people, whose minds are open to different species of amusement. He was, in fact, the father of the French stage. Nothing can equal the fondness which the French suck in with their milk for public places, particularly the theatre; and this taste, giving the tone to their conduct, has produced so many stage tricks on the grand theatre of the nation, where old principles vamped up with new scenes and decor|ations, are continually represented.

Their national character is, perhaps more form|ed by their theatrical amusements, than is gene|rally imagined: they are in reality the schools of vanity. And, after this kind of education, is it surprising, that almost every thing is said and done for stage effect? or that cold declamatory ex|tasies blaze forth, only to mock the expectation with a show of warmth?

Thus sentiments spouted from the lips come oftner from the head than the heart. Indeed natural sentiments are only the characters given by the imagination to recollected sensations; but the French, by the continual gratification of their senses, stifle the reveries of their imagination, which always requires to be acted upon by out|ward objects; and seldom reflecting on their feelings, their sensations are ever lively and tran|sitory

exhaled by every passing beam, and dis|sipated by the slightest storm.

If a relish for the broad mirth of fun charac|terize the lower class of English, the French of every denomination are equally delighted with a phosphorical, sentimental gilding. This is con|stantly observable at the theatres. The passions are deprived of all their radical strength, to give smoothness to the ranting sentiments, which, with mock dignity, like the party-coloured rags on the shrivelled branches of the tree of liberty, stuck up in every village, are displayed as some|thing very grand and significant.

The wars of Louis were, likewise, theatrical exhibitions; and the business of his life was ad|justing ceremonials, of which he himself became the dupe, when his grandeur was in the wane, and his animal spirits were spent* 1.2. But, to|wards the close even of his reign, the writings of Fenelon, and the conversation of his pupil, the duke of Burgundy, gave rise to different politi|cal discussions, of which the theoretical basis was the happiness of the people—till death, spreading a huge pall over the family and glory of Louis, compassion draws his faults under the same awful canopy, and we sympathize with the man in adversity whose prosperity was pestife|rous.

Louis, by imposing on the senses of his people, gave a new turn to the chivalrous humour of the age: for, with the true spirit of quixotism, the French made a point of honour of adoring

their king; and the glory of the grand monarque became the national pride, even when it cost them most dear.

As a proof of the perversion of mind at that period, and the false political opinions which prevailed, making the unhappy king the slave of his own despotism, it is sufficient to select one anecdote.

A courtier assures us * 1.3, that the most humi|liating circumstance that ever happened to the king, and one of those which gave him most pain, was the publication of a memorial circulated with great diligence by his enemies throughout France. In this memorial, the allies invited the French to demand the assembling of their ancient states-general. They tell them, "that the ambi|tion and pride of the king were the only causes

of the wars during his reign; and that, to secure themselves 〈◊〉〈◊〉 lasting peace, it was incum|bent on them not to lay down their arms till the states-general were convoked.

It almost surpasses belief to add, that, in spite of the imprisonment, exile, flight, or execution of two millions of French, this memorial, pro|duced little effect. But the king, who was severely hurt, took care to have a reply writ|ten † 1.4; though he might have comforted himself with the recollection, that, when they were last assembled, Loui•• XIII. dismissed them with empty promises, forgotten as soon as made.

The enthusiasm of the French, which, in general, hurries them from one extreme to ano|ther, at this time produced a total exchange of manners.

During the regency, vice was not only bare|saced, but audacious; and the tide completely turned: the hypocrites were now all ranged on the other side, the courtiers, labouring to show their abhorrence of religious hypocrisy, set decency at defiance, and did violence to the modesty of nature, when they wished to outrage the squeamish puerilities of superstition.

In the character of the regent we may trace all the vices and graces of false refinement; form|ing the taste by destroying the heart. Devoted to pleasure, he so soon exhausted the intoxicating cup of all its sweets, that his life was spent in search|ing amongst the dregs, for the novelty that could give a gasp of life to enjoyment. The wit, which at first was the zest of his nocturnal orgies, soon gave place, as flat, to the grossest excesses, in which the principal variety was flagitious im|morality. And what has he done to rescue his name from obloquy, but protect a few debauched artists and men of letters? His goodness of heart only appeared in sympathy. He pitied the dis|tresses of the people, when before his eyes; and as quickly forgot these yearnings of heart in his sensual stye.

He often related, with great pleasure, an anecdote of the prior de Vendome, who chanced to please a mistress of Charles II, and the king could only get rid of his rival by requesting Louis XIV. to recal him.

At those moments he would bestow the warmest praises on the English constitution; and seemed enamoured of liberty, though authorising at the time the most flagrant violations of property, and despotic arts of cruelty. The only good he did his country* 1.5 arose from this frivolous circum|stance; for introducing the fashion of admiring the English, he led men to read and translate some of their masculine writers, which greatly contributed to rouse the sleeping manhood of the French. His love of the fine arts, however, has led different authors to strew flowers over his unhallowed dust—fit emblem of the brilliant qualities, that ornamented only the soil on which they grew.

The latter part of the reign of Louis XV, is notorious for the same atrocious debaucheries, unvarnished by wit, over which modesty would fain draw a veil, were it not necessary to give the last touches to the portrait of that vile des|potism, under the lash of which twenty-five millions of people groaned; till, unable to endure the increasing weight of oppression, they rose like a vast elephant, terrible in his anger, tread|ing down with blind fury friends as well as foes.

Impotence of body, and indolence of mind, rendered Louis XV. the slave of his mistresses, who sought to forget his nauseous embraces in

the arms of knaves, who found their account in caressing them. Every corner of the kingdom was ransacked to satiate these cormorants, who wrung the very bowels of industry, to give a new edge to sickly appetites; corrupting the morals whilst breaking the spirit of the nation.

CHAPTER II.

Marie-Antoinette. Louis XVI. Administration of Necker, and of Calonne. Notables convened. Ca|lonne disgraced,—and obliged to flee the kingdom. His character. Causes of the enslaved state of Europe.

DURING this general depravation of man|ners, the young and beautiful dauphine arrived; and was received with a kind of idolatrous ado|ration, only to be seen in France; for the in|habitants of the metropolis, literally speaking, could think and talk of nothing else; and in their eagerness to pay homage, or gratify af|fectionate curiosity, an immense number were killed.

In such a voluptuous atmosphere, how could she escape contagion? The prosligacy of Louis XIV. when love and war were his amusements, was soberness, compared with the capricious intemperance of the inebriated imagination at this period. Madame du Barry was then in the zenith of her power, which quickly excited the jealousy of this princess whose strongest passion was that

intolerable family pride, which heated the blood of the whole house of Austria. An inclination for court intrigue, under the mask of the most profound dissimulation, to preserve the favour of Louis XV. was instantly called into action; and it soon became the only business of life, either to gratify resentment, or cheat the satiety, which the continual and unrestrained indulgence of plea|sure produced.

Her character thus formed, when she became absolute mistress, the court of the passive Louis, not only the most dissolute and abandoned that ever displayed the folly of royalty, but au|daciously negligent with respect to that attention to decency, which is necessary to delude the vul|gar, was deserted by all persons, who had any regard for their moral character, or the decorum of appearances. Constrained by the etiquette, which made the principal part of the imposing grandeur of Louis XIV. the queen wished to throw aside the cumbersome brocade of cere|mony, without having discernment enough to perceive, that it was necessary to lend mock dignity to a court, where there was not sufficient virtue, or native beauty, to give interest or re|spectability to simplicity. The harlot is seldom such a fool as to neglect her meretricious orna|ments, unless she renounces her trade; and the pageantry of courts is the same thing on a larger scale. The lively predilection, likewise, of the queen for her native country, and love for her brother Joseph, to whom she repeatedly sent con|siderable sums, purloined from the public, ended greatly to inspire the most ineffable contempt for royalty, now stript of the frippery which had

concealed its deformity: and the sovereign dis|gust excited by her ruinous vices, completely des|troying all reverence for th•• majesty, to which power alone lent dignity, contempt soon produced hatred

The famous transaction of the necklace, in which she was probably the dupe of the knaves she fostered, exasperated also both the nobility and the clergy; and with her messalinian feasts at Trianon, made her the common mark of ridicule and satire.

The attention of the people once roused was not permitted to steep; for fresh circumstances daily occurred, to give a new spring to discussions, that the most iniquitous and heavy taxes brought home to every bosom; till the extravagance of the royal family became the general subject of sharp|ening execrations.

The king, who had not sufficient resolution to support the administration of Turgot, whom his disposition for moderation had chosen, being at ••loss what measures to take, called to the helm the plausible Necker. He, only half com|prehending the plans of his able predecessor, was led by his vanity cautiously to adopt them; first publishing his Compte-rendu, to clear the way to popularity. This work was read with astonish|ing rapidity by all ranks of men; and alarming the courtiers, Necker was, in his turn, dismissed. H•• retired to write his observations on the admi|nistration of the finances, which kept alive the spirit of inquiry, that afterwards broke the talis|m•• of courts, and showed the disenchanted mul|titude, that those whom they had been taught to respect as supernatural beings, were not indeed

men—but monsters; deprived by their station of humanity, and even sympathy.

Several abortive attempts were then made by two succeeding ministers, to keep alive the public credit, and find resources to supply the expendi|ture of the state, and the dissipation of the court, when the king was persuaded to place the spe|cious Calonne at the head of these embarrassed affairs.

During the prodigal administration of this man, who acted with an audacity peculiar to the arrogance common in men of superficial yet brilliant talents, every consideration was sacrificed to the court; the splended folly and wanton pro|digality of which eclipsing all that has been related in history, or told in romance, to amuse wonder|ing fools, only served to accelerate the destruction of public credit, and hasten the revolution, by exciting the clamorous indignation of the people. Numberless destructive expedients of the moment brought money into the state coffers, only to be dissipated by the royal family, and its train of parasites; till, all falling, the wish of still support|ing himself in a situation so desirable as tha•• of comptroller-general of the finances, determined him to convene an assembly of Notables; whose very appellation points them out as men in the aristocratical interest.

Louis XVI. with a considerable portion of common sense, and a desire to promote useful reformation, though always governed by those around him, gave without hesitation the necessary orders for calling together the assembly, that afforded the wearied nation the most pleasing prospect, because it was a new one; but convey|ed

to their astonished minds at the same time the knowledge of the enormity of a deficit, which a series of vice and folly had augmented beyond all precedent.

The immoralities of C••onne, however, had created a general distrust of all his designs: but with an overweening presumption, the charac|teristic of the man, he still thought, that he could dexterously obtain the supplies wanted to keep the w••els of government in motion, and quiet the clamours of the nation, by proposing the equali|zation of taxes; which, humbling the nobility and dignified clergy, who were thus to be brought down from their privileged height, to the level of citizens, could not fail to be grateful to the rest of the nation. And the parliaments, he con|cluded, would not dare to opppse his system, lest they should draw on themselves the distrust and hatred of the public.

Without canvassing Calonne's intentions, which the most enlarged charity, after his former ex|travagance, can scarce••y suppose to have been the interest of the people, moderate men ima|gined this project might have been productive of much good; giving the French all the liberty they were able to digest; and, warding off the tumults that have since produced so many disastrous events, whilst coolly preparing them for the re|ception of more, the effervescence of vanity and ignorance would not have rendered their heads giddy, o•• their hearts savage. Yet some sensible observers, on the contrary, rather adopted the opinion, that as the people had discovered the magnitude of the deficit, they were now persuaded that a specific remedy was wanting, a new con|stitution;

to cure the evils, which were the ex|crescences of a gigantic tyranny, that appeared to be draining away the vital juices of labour, to fill the insatiable jaws of thousands of fawning slaves and idle sycophants. But though the people might, for the present, have been satis|fied with this salutary reform, which would gradually have had an effect, reasoning from analogy, that the financier did not take into his account, the nobility were not sufficiently en|lightened to listen to the dictates of justice or prudence. It had been, indeed, the system of ministers, ever since Richelieu, to humble the nobles, to increase the power of the court, and as the ministry, the generals, and the bishops, were always noble, they aided to support the favourite, who depressed the whole body, only for the chance of individual preferment. But this bare-faced attempt to abolish their privileges ••ised a nest of hornets about his ears, eager to secure the plunder on which they lived; for by what other name can we call the pensions, places, and even estates of those who, taxing in|dustry, rioted in idleness duty free* 1.6?

An approaching national bankruptcy was the ostensible reason assigned for the convening of the notables in 1787; but the convocation, in truth, ought to be ascribed to the voice of reason, sounded through the organ of twenty-five mil|lions of human beings, who, though under the fetters of a detestable tyranny, felt, that the crisis was at hand, when the rights of man and his dignity ascertained were to be enthroned on the eternal basis of justice and humanity.

The notables, once assembled, being sensible that their conduct would be inspected by an awakened public, now on the watch, scrupulously examined into every national concern; and seri|ously investig••ed the causes, that had produced the deficit with something like the independent spirit of freemen. To their inquiries, however, the minister gave only the evasive reply, 'that he had acted in obedience to the pleasure of the king:' when it was notorious to all Europe, that his majesty was merely a cypher at Versailles;

and even the accusation brought against Calonne, by La Fayette, of exchanging the national do|mains, and appropriating millions of it's revenue to gratify the queen, the count d'Artois, and the rest of the cabal, who kept him in place, was ge|nerally believed. In fact, the state had been fleeced, to support the unremitting demands of the queen; who would have dismembered France, to aggrandize Austria, and pamper her favour|ites. Thus the court conniving at peculation, the minister played a sure game; whilst the ho|nest labourer was groaning under a thousand abuses, and yielding the solace of his industry, or the hoards, which youthful strength had re|served for times of scarcity or decrepit ••e, to irritate the increasing wants of a thoughtless, treacherous princess, and the avarice of her un|principled agents.

This artful, though weak, machiavelian poli|tician, suffered no other person to approach the king; who, seduced into confidence by his col|loquial powers, could not avoid being dazzled by his plausible schemes. He had, nevertheless, a powerful enemy to contend with, in M. de Breteuil; who, having gratified some of the little passions of the dauphine, during her first strug|gles for dominion, was now protected by the absolute power of the queen. Endeavouring to measure his strength with her's, the minister was discomfited; and the whole swarm of flat|terers, who had partaken of the spoil of rapine, were instantly alert to open the eyes of Louis, over which they had long been scattering pop|pies, and soon convinced him of the perf••dy of his favourite; whilst the two privileged orders

joined their forces, to overwhelm their common enemy, attending to their vengeance at the very time they followed the dictates of prudence.

The accusations of La Fayette served, perhaps, as the ostensible reason with the public, and even with the king; yet it can hardly be sup|posed, that they had any affect on the cabal, who invented, or connived at the plans necessary to raise a continual supply for their pleasures. The fact is, that, most probably being found un|equal to the task, or no longer choosing to be a docile instrument of mischief, he was thrown aside as unfit for use.

Disgraced, he quickly retired to his estate; but was not long permitted to struggle with the malady of exiled ministers, in the gloomy silence of inactivity; for, hearing that he had been denounced by the parliament, he fled in a trans|port of rage out of the kingdom, covered with the execrations of an injured people, in whose hatred, or admiration, the mellowed shades of reflection are seldom seen.

The extravagance of his administration ex|ceeded that of any other scourge of France; yet it does not appear, that he was actuated by a plan, or even desire, of enriching himself. So far from it, with wild prodigality he seems to have squandered away the vast sums he extorted by force or fraud, merely to gratify or purchase friends and dependents; till, quite exhausted, he was obliged to have recourse to Necker's scheme of loans. But not possessing like him the con|sidence of the public, he could not with equal facility obtain a present supply, the weight of which would be thrown forward to become a

stumbling block to his successors. Necker, by the advantageous terms which he held out to money-holders, had introduced a perpiclous sys|tem of s••ock-j••b••ing, that was slowly detect|ed, because those who could have best opened the eyes of the people were interested to keep them closed — Still Calonne could not induce the same body of men to trust to his offers; which, not choosing to accept, they made a point of discrediting, to secure the interest and exorbitant premiums that were daily becoming due.

With an uncommon quickness of comprehen|sion, and audacity in pursuing crude schemes, rendered plausible by a rhetorical flow of words, Calonne, a strong representative of the national character, seems rather to have wanted princi|ples than feelings of humanity; and to have been led astray more by vanity and the love of pleasure, which imperceptibly smooth away mo|ral restraints, than by those deep plans of guilt, that force men to see the extent of the mischief they are hatching, whilst the crocodile is still in the egg. Yet as mankind, ever judge by events, the inconsiderate presumption, if not the turpi|tude of his conduct, brought on him universal censure: for, at a crisis when the general groans of an oppressed nation proclaimed the disease of the state, and even when the government was on the verge of dissolution, did he not waste the treasures of his country, forgetful not only of moral obligations, but the ties of honour, of that regard for the tacit confidence of it's citi|zens, which a statesmen ought to hold sacred? since which he has been caressed at almost

every court in Europe, and made one of the principal agents of despotism in the croisades against the infant liberty of France.

Reflecting on the conduct of the tools of courts, we are enabled in a great measure to account for the slavery of Europe; and to discover, that it's misery has not arisen more from the imperfection of civilization, than from the fallacy of those political systems, which neces|sarily made the favourite of the day a knavish tyrant, eager to amass riches to save himself from oblivion, when the honours, so hardly wrestled for, should be torn from his brow. Besides, whilst ministers have found impunity in the om|nipotence, which the seal of power gave them, and in the covert fear of those who hoped one day to enjoy the same emoluments, they have been led by the prevalence of depraved man|ners, to the commission of every atrocious folly. Kings have been the dupes of ministers, of mis|tresses, and secretaries, not to notice sly valets and cunning waiting maids, who are seldom idle; and these are most venal, because they have least independency of character to support; till in the circle of corruption no one can point out the first mover. Hence proceeds the great tenacity of courts to support them; hence originates their great objection to republican forms of govern|ment, which obliged their ministers to be ac|countable for delinquency; and hence, likewise, might be traced their agonizing fears of the doc|trine of civil equality.

CHAPTER III.

Administration of de Brienne. Dissolution of the Notables. Land Tax and Stamp Duty recommended by them, but refused to be sanctioned by the Parliament. Bed of Justice. The Parliament banished to Troyes,—but soon compromised for it's recall. Struggles of the Court-party to prevent the convocation of the States-General. Banishment of the Duke of Orleans, And two spirited Members of the Parliament. Court ple|niere. Remarks on the Parliament. Imprisonment of the Members. Deputies of the province of Britanny sent to the Bastile. The Soldiery let loose upon the People.

AFTER the dismission of Calonne, M. de Brienne, a man whose talents Turgot had over|rated, was now chosen by the queen, because he had formerly seconded her views, and was still the obsequious slave of that power, which he had long been courting, to obtain the so much envied place of minister. Having taken more pains to gain the post than to prepare himself to fulfil it's functions, his weak and timid mind was in a continual tumult; and he adopted with head|long confusion the taxes proposed by his prede|cessor; because money must be had, and he knew not where to turn to procure it by an unhacknied mode of extortion.

The notables were now dissolved; and it would have been a natural consequence of the dismis|sion

of the minister who assembled them, even if their spirited inquiries had not rendered their presence vexatious to the court. This, how|ever, was an impolitic measure; for they returned highly disgusted to their respective abodes, to propagate the free opinions, to which resentment and argumentation had given birth.

Before the breaking up of the notables, they were nevertheless prevailed upon to recommend a land and stamp tax; and the edicts were sent to the parliament to be enregistered. But these magistrates, never forgetting that they enjoyed, in virtue of their office, the privileged exemption from taxes, to elude sanctioning the first, which was to have been an equal impost, took advan|tage of the public odiousness of the second; thus avoiding, with a show of patriotism, an avowed opposition to the interest of the people, that would clearly have proved, how much dearer they held their own.

The gaudy and meretricious pageantry of the court was now displayed, to intimidate the par|liament, at what was termed a bed of justice, though in reality of all justice a solemn mockery; and, whilst pretending to consult them, the edicts were enregistered by a mandate of state. The parliament, in the mean time, making a merit of necessity, declared, that the right of sanctioning the impost belonged only to the state-general, the convocation of which they demanded. Pro|voked by their s••urdy opposition, the court ba|nished them to Troyes; and they compromised for their recall by enregistering the prolongation of the deuxieme vingtieme, a cowardly desertion of their former ground.

A century before (a proof of the progress of reason) the people, digesting their disappointment, would have submitted, with brutal acquiescence, to the majestic WILL of the king, without daring to scan it's import; but now, recognizing their own dignity, they insisted, that all authority, which did not originate with them, was illegal and despotic, and loudly sounded the grand truth—That it was necessary to convoke the states-general. The government, however, like a dying wretch cut off by intemperance, whilst the lust of enjoyment still remaining prompts him to exhaust his strength by struggling with death, fought some time longer inauspiciously for existence, depending on the succour of the court empirics, who vainly flattered themselves, that they could prevent it's dissolution, From the moment, indeed, that Brienne succeeded Ca|lonne, all the machinery, which the demon of despotism could invent, was put into motion, to divert the current of opinion, bearing on it's fair bosom the new sentiments of liberty with irre|sistible force, and overwhelming, as it swelled, the perishing monuments of venerable folly, and the fragile barriers of superstitious igno|rance.

But supplies were still wanting; and the court, being fruitful in stratagems to procure a loan, which was the necessary lever of it's insidious designs, coalesced with some of the members of the parliament, and the agreement was to have been ratified in a séance royale. Yet, as the par|liament had determined to be governed by a clear majority, the scheme of the keeper of the ••ais, who intended to have the business hurried

over without telling the votes, was completely defeated.

The discovery of this unfair attempt made the indignant magistrates, glad to seize an occasion to recover their popularity, maintain with bold|ness their own character, and the interest of the people. The duke of Orleans, also, somewhat tauntingly suggesting to the king, that this was only another bed of justice, was exiled, with two other members, who had remonstrated with courage. These magistrates, now became the objects of public adoration, were considered by the grateful public as their only bulwark against the attacks of the ministry; which continued to harass invention, to contrive means to counteract a concurrence of circumstances, that were driv|ing before them all opposition.

The court, for I consider the government, at this period completely at an end, continued to stumble out of one blunder into another, till at last they rested all their hopes on the popular reforms projected by Brienne, in conjunction with Lamoignon, a man with more strength of character, to cajole the people and crush the parliament. Several strokes, the feeble blows of angry men, who wished still to retain the stolen sweets of office, were aimed at this body, calculated to mislead the people who, were also promised a reformed code of penal laws. But the time when partial remedies would have been eagerly swallowed was past, and the people saw distinctly, that their will would soon be law, and their power omnipotent. But the minister, Brienne, not aware of this, to steer clear of further opposition, proposed the plan of a cour

pléniere: an heterogeneous assembly of princes, nobles, magistrates, and soldiers. A happy sub|stitute, as he imagined, for the parliament; and which, by restoring the ancient forms of the kings of France, would awe and amuse the peo|ple. He did not consider, that their minds were now full of other objects, and their enthusiasm turned into another channel.

This conduct proved more destructive to the court than any former folly it's advisers had committed. Imbecility now characterized every measure. The parliament, however, fell into the snare, and forfeited the esteem and confidence of the people by opposing some popular 〈◊〉〈◊〉 par|ticularly one in favour of the protestants, which they themselves had demanded ten years before, and to which they now objected, only because it came from another quarter. Yet the court, re|gardless of experience, endeavoured to restore it's credit by persecution; whilst, making all the clashing movements that fear could dictate to manifest it's power and overawe the nation, it united all parties, and drew the whole kingdom to one point of action.

The despotic and extravagant steps taken to give efficiency to the cour pléniere, awakened the sensibility of the most torpid; and the vigilance of twenty-five millions of centinels was roused, to watch the movements of the court, and follow it's corrupt ministers, through all the labyrinths of sophistry and tergiversation, into the very dens of their nefarious machinations. To pre|vent the different parliaments from deliberating, and forming in consequence a plan of conduct together, the edict to sanction this packed cabinet

was to be presented to them all on the same day; and a considerable force was assembled, to inti|midate the members, who should dare to prove refractory. But, they were forewarned in time, to avoid being surprised into acquiescence: for, having received an intimation of the design, a copy of the edict had been purloined from the press, by means of the universal engine of cor|ruption, money.

Warmed by the discovery of this surreptitious attempt to cheat them into blind obedience, they bound themselves by an oath, to act in concert; and 〈…〉〈…〉 register a decree, that had been ob|tain•• 〈…〉〈…〉 a medium, which violated the privi•• ••ey had usurped of having a share in the legislation, by rendering their sanction of edicts necessary to give them force; a privilege that belonge•• ••ly to the states-general. Still, as the government had often found it convenient to make the parliaments a substitute for a power th•• dre•• to see in action, these magistrates sometimes availed themselves of this weakness, to remonstrate against oppression; and thus, covering usurpation with a respectable veil, the twelve parliaments were considered by the people as the only barriers to resist the encroachments of despotism. Yet the sagacious chancellor L'Hôpital, not deceived by their accidental use|fulness, guarded the French against their illegal ambition; for was it not a dangerous courtesy of the people, to allow an aristocracy of lawyers, who bought their places, to be as it were the only representatives of the nation? Still their resist|ance had frequently been an impediment in the way of tyranny, and now provoked a discussion,

which led to the most important of all questions —namely, in whose hands ought the sovereignty to rest?—who ought to levy the impost, and make laws?—and the answer was the universal demand of a fair representation, to meet at stated periods, without depending on the caprice of the executive power. Unable to effect their purpose by art or force, the weak ministry, stung by the disappointment, determined at least to wreak their vengeance on two of the boldest of the members. But the united magistrates dis|puting the authority of the armed force, it was necessary to send to Versailles, to make the king sign an express order; and toward 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••lock the next morning the sanctuary of justice was pro|faned, and the two members dragged to prison, in contempt of the visible indignation of the peo|ple. Soon after, to fill up the ••asure of pro|vocations, a deputation sent by the province of Brittany, to remonstrate against the establishment of the cour pléniere, were condemn•• to silence in the Bastile.

Without money, and afraid to demand it, ex|cepting in a circumlocutory manner, the court, like mad men, spent themselves in idle exertions of strength: for, whilst the citizens of Paris were burning in effigy the two obnoxious minis|ters, who thus outraged them in the person of their magistrates, they were delivered up to the fury of the hired slaves of despotism, and trampled under foot by the cavalry; who were called in to quell a riot purposely excited.

Cries of horror and indignation resounded throughout the kingdom; and the nation, with one voice, demanded justice—Alas! justice had never been known in France. Retaliation and

vengeance had been its fatal substitutes. And from this epoch we may date the commencement of those butcheries, which have brought on that devoted country so many dreadful calamities, by teaching the people to avenge themselves with blood.

The hopes of the nation, it is true, were still turned towards the promised convocation of the states-general; which every day became more necessary. But the infatuated ministers, though unable to devise any scheme to extricate them|selves out of the crowd of difficulties, into which they had ••dlessly plunged, could not think of con••ing a power, which they foresaw, with|out any great stretch of sagacity, would quickly annihilate their own.

The ferment, mean time, continued, and the blood that had been shed served only to increase it; nay, the citizens of Grenoble prepared with calmness to resist force by force, and the myr|mid••ns of tyranny might have found it a serious contest, if the intelligence of the dismission of the ministers had not produced one of those moments of enthusiasm, which by the most rapid operation of sympathy unites all hearts. Touched by it, the men who lived on the wages of slaughter threw down their arms, and melting into tears in the embraces of the citizens whom they came to murder, remembered that they were country|men, and groaned under the same oppression: and, their conduct, quickly applauded with that glow of sensibility which excites imitation, served as an example to the whole army, forcing the soldiers to think of their situation; and might have proved a salutary lesson to any court less depraved and insensible than that of Versailles.

CHAPTER IV.

Necker recalled. His character. Notables convened a second time. Coalition of the nobility and clergy in defence of their privileges. Provincial assemblies of the People. Political publications in favour of the Tiers-Etat. General reflections on reform,—on the present state of Europe,—and on the Revolution in France.

SUCH were the measures pursued to exas|perate a people beginning to open their eyes, and now clamorously demanding the restitution of their long estranged rights; when the court having in vain attempted to terrify or deceive them, found it expedient to still the storm by recalling Necker. This man had the confidence of France, which he in some degree merited for the light he had thrown on the state of the re|venue, and for the system of economy, that he had endeavoured to adopt during his former ad|ministration: but unfortunately he did not possess talents or political sagacity sufficient to pilot the state in this perilous season. Bred up in a count|ing-house, he acquired that knowledge of detail, and attention to little advantages, so necessary when a man desires to amass riches with what is termed a fair character: and, having accumu|lated a very large fortune by unremitting industry;

or, to borrow the commercial phrase, attention to the main chance, his house became the resort of the men of letters of his day.

The foibles of a rich man are always fostered, sometimes perhaps insensibly, by his numerous dependents and visitants, who find his table amusing or convenient. It is not then surprizing, that, with the abilities of a tolerable financier, he was soon persuaded that he was a great author, and consummate statesman. Besides, when the manners of a nation are very depraved, the men who wish to appear, and even to be, more moral than the multitude, in general become pedanti|cally virtuous; and, continually contrasting their morals with the thoughtless vices around them, the artificial, narrow character of a sectary is formed; the manners are rendered stiff, and the heart cold. The dupes also of their flimsy virtue, many men are harshly called hypocrites, who are only weak; and popularity often turns the head giddy, that would have soberly fulfilled the common duties of a man in the shade of private life.

Having adopted with a timid hand many of the sagacious plans of his model, the clear headed, unaffected Turgot, Necker was considered by the greater part of the nation as a consummate politi|cian: neither was it surprising, that the people, snatched from despondency, should have mistaken the extent of his political knowledge, when they had estimated it by that of the greatest statesman, which France, or, perhaps, any other country, ever produced.

Having written on a subject, that naturally attracted the attention of the public, he had the

vanity to believe, that he deserved the exaggerated applause he received, and the reputation of wise, when he was only shrewd. Not content with the fame he acquired by writing on a subject, which his turn of mind and profession enabled him to comprehend, he wished to obtain a higher degree of celebrity, by forming into a large book various metaphysical shreds of arguments, which he had collected from the conversation of men, fond of ingenious subtilities; and the style except|ing some declamatory passages, was as inflated and confused as the thoughts were far fetched and unconnected* 1.7.

As it is from this period, that we must date the commencement of those great events, which, outrunning expectation, have almost rendered ob|servation breathless, it becomes necessary to enter on the task with caution; as it ought not to be more the object of the historian to fill up the sketch, than to trace the hidden springs and secret mechanism, which have put in motion a revolu|tion, the most important that has ever been re|corded in the annals of man. This was a crisis that demanded boldness and precision; and no man in France, excepting Necker, had the re|putation of possessing extensive political talents; because the old system of government scarcely afforded a field, in which the abilities of men could be unfolded, and their judgment matured by experience. Yet, whilst the kingdom was in the greatest fermentation, he seems to have thought of none but those timid half-way mea|sures, which alway prove disastrous in desperate

cases, when the wound requires to be probed to the quick.

The old government was then only a vast ruin; and whilst its p••lars were trembling on their bas••less foundations, the eyes of all France were directed toward their admired minister. In this situation, with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his former empiricism he began 〈◊〉〈◊〉 second career, like another Sangra••o. But the people could no longer bear bleeding —for their veins were already so lacerated, it was dif|ficult to find room to make ••f••es•• incision; and the emollient prescriptions, the practice of former times, were n••w ••fficient to stop the progress of a deadly dise••. In this situation, listening to the voice of the nation, because he was at a loss what step to take to maintain his popularity, he determined to hasten the convocation of the states-general: first recalling the exiled magis|trates, and restoring the parliaments ••o the ex|ercise of their functions. His next care was to dissipate all apprehension of a famin••▪ a fear that had been artfully excited by the court agents, in order to have a pretext to form magazines of provision for an army, which they had pre|viously resolved to assemble in the vicinity of Paris.

Thus far he seems to have acted with some degree of prudence, at least; but, inattentive to the robust strength which the public opinion had then acquired, he wavered as to the mode of constituting the states-general, whilst the par|liament passed a decree to prevent their assem|bling in any other manner than they did in 1614. This obstinate pretention to legislate for the nation was no longer to be tolerated, when they

opposed the wishes of the people: yet, with the common instinct of corporate bodies, they wrap|ped themselves up in the precedents that proved their winding-sheet, provoking universal con|tempt; for the Herculean force of the whole em|pire was now clearing away every obstacle to freedom.

At this critical moment, the minister, enjoying great popularity, had it in his power, could he have governed the court, to have suggested a system, which might ultimately have prove•• ac|ceptable to all parties; and thus have prevented that dreadful convulsion, which has shook the kingdom from one extremity to the other. In|stead of that, he convened a second time the notables, to take their opinion on a subject, respect|ing which the public had al••y decided, not daring himself to sanction its decision. The strongest proof he could give, that his mind was not sufficiently elastic to expand with the opening views of the people; and that he did not possess ••he eye of genius, which, quickly distinguishing what is possible, enables a statesman to act with firm dignity, resting on his own centre.

Carried away by the general impulsion, with the inconsiderate fervour of men, whose hearts always grow hard as they cool, when they have been warmed by some sudden glow of enthusiasm or sympathy, the notables showed, by their sub|sequent conduct, that, though they had been led by eloquence to support some questions of a patrioti•• tendency, they had not the principles necessary to impel them to give up local advan|tages, or personal prerogatives, for the good of the whole community, in which they were only

eventually to share. Indeed romantic virtue, or friendship, seldom goes further than professions; because it is merely the effect of that fondness for imitating great, rather than acquiring moderate qualities, common to vain people.

The notables had now two essential points to settle; namely, to regulate the election of the deputies, and how they were afterwards to vote. The population and wealth of several provinces, from commercial advantages and other causes, had given a new face to the country since the former election; so much so, that, if the ancient division were adhered to, the representation could not fail to be very unequal. Yet if the natural order of population were followed, the grand question of voting by orders or by voices seemed to be pre|judged by the great increase of the members of the tiers-etat.

The nobles and the clergy immediately rallied round the standard of privileges, insisting, that France would be ruined, if their rights were touched: and so true were they now to their in|sulated interest, that all the committees into which the notables were divided, excepting that of which monsieur was president, determined against allow|ing the tiers-etat that increase of power necessary to enable them to be useful. Whilst, however, these disputes and cabals seemed to promise no speedy determination, the people, weary of pro|crastination, and disgusted with the obstacles con|tinually thrown in the way of the meeting of the states-general, by a court that was ever secretly at work, to regain the trifling privileges, which it pretended to sacrifice to the public good, began to assemble, and even to decide the previous

question, by deliberating together in several places. Dauphine set the example; and the three orders uniting sketched a plan for the organization of the whole kingdom, which served as a model for the other provincial states, and furnished grounds for the constituent assembly to work on when forming the constitution. Though the rumour was spread abroad, the court still so stupidly secure as not to see, that the people, who at this period dared to think for themselves, would not now be noosed like beasts, when strength is b••ough•• ••to subjection by reason, beheld with wonder the arrival of deputations from different quarters, and heard with astonishment the bold tones of men speaking of their rights, tracing society to its origin, and painting with the most forcible colours the horrid depredations of the old government. For after the minds of men had ••ee•• fatigued by the stratagems of the court, the ••eeble measures of the minister, and the narrow, selfish views of the parliaments, they examined with avidity the productions of a number of able writers, who were daily pouring pamphlets from the press, to excite the tiers-etat, to assert its rights on enlarged principles, and to oppose vigorously the exorbitant claims of the privileged orders, who stood up for ancient usurpations, as if they were the natural rights of a particular genus of man. Those of the Abbé Sieyes and the marquis de Condorcet were the most philoso|phical; whilst the unctuous eloquence of Mira|beau softened these dry researches, and fed the flame of patriotism.

In this posture of affairs, Necker, perceiving that the people were grown resolute, prevailed

on the council to decree, that the number of the deputies of the tiers-etat should be equal to that of the two other orders taken together: but whether they were to vote by chambers, or in the same body, was still left undetermined.

The people whose patience had been worn out by injuries and insults, now only thought of pre|paring instructions for their representatives.— But, instead of looking for gradual improvement, letting one reform calmly produce another, they seemed determined to strike at the root of all their misery at once: the united mischiefs of a monarchy unrestrained, a priesthood unneces|sarily numerous, and an overgrown nobility: and these hasty measures, become a subject worthy of philosophical investigation, naturally fall into two distinct subjects of inquiry.

1st. If from the progress of reason, we be au|thorized to infer, that all governments will be meliorated, and the happiness of man placed on the solid basis, gradually prepared by the im|provement of political science; if the degrading distinctions of rank born in barbarism, and nou|rished by chivalry, be really becoming in the esti|mation of all sensible people so contemptible, that a modest man, in the course of fifty years would probably blush at being thus distinguished: if the complexion of manners in Europe be completely changed from what it was half a century ago, and the liberty of its citizens tolerably secured: if every day extending freedom be more firmly established in consequence of the general dissemi|nation of truth and knowledge: it then seems injudicious for statesmen to force the adoption of any opinion, by aim••ng at the speedy destruc|tion

of obstinate prejudices; because these pre|mature reforms, instead of promoting, destroy the comfort of those unfortunate beings, who are under their dominion, affording at the same time to despotism the strongest arguments to urge in opposition to the theory of reason. Besides, the objects intended to be forwarded are pro|bably retarded, whilst the tumult of internal com|motion and civil discord leads to the most dread|ful consequences—the immolating of human vic|tims.

But, 2dly, it is necessary to observe, that, if the degeneracy of the higher orders of society be such, that no remedy less fraught with horror can effect a radical cure; and if enjoying the fruits of usurpation, they domineer over the wea••, and check by all the means in their power every humane effort, to draw man out of the state of degradation, into which the inequality of fortune has sunk him; the people are justified in having recourse to coercion, to repel coercion. And, further, if it can be ascertained, that the silent sufferings of the citizens of the world under the iron feet of oppression are greater, though less obvious, than the calamities produced by such violent convulsions as have happened in France; which, like hurricanes whirling over the face of nature, strip off all its blooming graces; it may be politically just, to pursue such measures as were taken by that regenerating country, and at once root out those deleterious plants, which poison the better half of human happiness. For civilization hitherto, by producing the inequality of conditions, which makes wealth more desi|rable than either talents or virtue, has so weak|ened

all the organs of the body-politic, and rendered man such a beast of prey, that the strong have always devoured the weak till the very signification of justice has been lost sight of, and charity, the most specious system of slavery, substituted in it's place. The rich have for ages tyrannized over the poor, teaching them how to act when possessed of power, and now must feel the consequence. People are rendered ferocious by misery; and misanthropy is ever the offspring of discontent. Let not then the hap|piness of one half of mankind be built on the misery of the other, and humanity will take place of charity, and all the ostentatious virtues of an universal aristocracy. How, in fact, can we ex|pect to see men live together like brothers, when we only see master and servant in society? For till men learn mutually to assist without govern|ing each other, little can be done by political associations towards perfecting the condition of mankind.

Europe will probably be, for some years to come, in a state of anarchy; till a change of sen|timents, gradually undermining the strong-holds of custom, alters the manners, without rousing the little passions of men, a pack of yelping curs pampered by vanity and pride. It is in reality these minor passions, which during the summer of idleness mantle on the heart, and taint the atmosphere, because the understanding is still.

Several acts of ferocious folly have justly brought much obloquy on the grand revolution, which has taken place in France; yet, I feel con|fident of being able to prove, that the people are essentially good, and that knowledge is ra|pidly

advancing to that degree of perfectibility, when the proud distinctions of sophisticating fools will be eclipsed by the mild rays of philo|sophy, and man be considered as man—acting with the dignity of an intelligent being.

From implicitly obeying their sovereigns, the French became suddenly all sovereigns; yet, be|cause it is natural for men to run out of one ex|treme into another, we should guard against in|ferring, that the spirit of the moment will not evaporate, and leave the disturbed water more clear for the fermentation. Men without prin|ciple rise like foam during a storm sparkling on the top of the billow, in which it is soon absorbed when the commotions die away. Anarchy is a fearful state, and all men of sense and benevolence have been anxiously attentive, to observe what use Frenchmen would make of their liberty, when the confusion incident to the acquisition should subside: yet, whilst the heart sickens over a detail of crimes and follies, and the understand|ing is appalled by the labour of unravelling a black tissue of plots, which exhibits the human character in the most revolting point of view; it is perhaps, difficult to bring ourselves to be|lieve, that out of this chaotic mass a fairer go|vernment is rising than has ever shed the sweets of s••cial life on the world.—But things must have time to find their level.

Notes

• * 1.1

  What else could be expected from the courtier, who could write in these terms to madame de Maintenon; God has been so gracious to me, madam, that, in whatever com|pany I find myself, I never have occasion to blush for the gospel or the king.
• * 1.2

  For example, the reception of a Portuguese adventur|er, under the character of a Persian ambassador. A farce made by the court to rouse the blunted senses of the king.
• * 1.3

  Memoires du marechal de Richelieu.
• † 1.4

  In this reply will be found many of the reasons, that have been lately repeated; and some (a proof of the pro|gress of reason), which no one had the audacity to re|peat when standing up in defence of privileges.
• * 1.5

  It is well known, that for a long time he wished to convoke the states-general; and it was not without dif|ficulty, that Dubois made him abandon this design. During the year 1789, a curious memorial has been re|printed, which he wrote on this occasion; and it is, like the author, a model of impudence.
• * 1.6

  Since the constituent assembly equalized the impost, Calonne has beasted, that he proposed a mode of levying equal taxes; but that the nobility would not listen to any such motion, tenaciously maintaining their privileges. This blind obstinacy of opposing all reform, that touched their exemptions, may be reckoned among the foremost causes, which, in hurrying the removal of old abuses, tended to introduce violence and disorder.—And if it be kept in remembrance, that a conduct equally illiberal and disin|genuous warped all their political sentiments, it must be clear, that the people, from whom they considered them|selves as separated by immutable laws, had cogent grounds to conclude, that it would be impossible to effect a re|form of the greater part of those perplexing exemptions and arbitrary customs, the weight of which made the pe|culiar urgency, and called with the most forcible energy for the revolution. Surely all the folly of the people taken together was less reprehensible, than this total want of discernment, this adherence to a prejudice, the jaundiced perception of contumelious ignorance, in a class of men, who from the opportunity they had of ac|quiring knowledge, ought to have acted with more judg|ment For they were goaded into action by inhuman provocations, by acts of the most flagrant injustice, when they had ••either rule nor experience to direct them, and after their temperance had been destroyed by years of sufferings, and an endless catalogue of ••e••e••ated and con|temptuous privations.
• * 1.7

  Importance of religious opinions.