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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
[Illustration: W H]
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.
[Sidenote: 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.”
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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_.
[A] See Appendix.
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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.”
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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]1 was delivering, the impudent little Marat,[1]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.”
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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!”
[A] See Appendix.
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.
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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.”
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.”
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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!
[Sidenote: 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.”
[Sidenote: 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 I^{er}, 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 I^{er} 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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!
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: “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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.”
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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]
[Sidenote: 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_.
[Sidenote: 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.”
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
Printed by BALLANTYNE & CO. LIMITED
Tavistock Street, London
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.
4. Italics are shown as _xxx_.Project Gutenberg
France in eighteen hundred and two : $b Described in a series of contemporary letters
Yorke, Henry Redhead
Chimera62
Academic