THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 -..** 

 
 AUBERT DUBAYET 
 
 OR 
 
 THE TWO SISTER REPUBLICS 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES GAYARRE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE HISTORY OF LOUISIANA," "PHILIP n. OF SPAIN," 
 
 " THE SCHOOL FOR POLITICS," " INFLUENCE OF THE 
 
 MECHANICAL ARTS," "FERNANDO DE LEMOS,' 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 " It will be a curious spectacle to watch the progress of those twin sisters, the 
 American and French Republics." AUBERT DUBAYET 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY 
 1882
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, In tbe year 1882, by 
 
 CHARLES GAYARRE, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. 0.
 
 PS 
 
 PREFATORY REMARK. 
 
 IN this work the substance is history; the form 
 only is romance. It can not, therefore, be properly 
 called a novel. It is history, but with its nudities 
 embellished under the glittering gossamer veil of fic 
 tion. History is marble, and remains forever cold, 
 even under the most artistic hand, unless life is 
 breathed into it by the imagination that creative 
 power granted by God to man. Then the marble 
 becomes flesh and blood then it feels, it thinks, 
 it moves, and is immortal. This is what I have 
 
 attempted. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 1118295
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IN the composition which I venture to present to 
 the public under the title of " Aubert Dubayet ; or, 
 the Two Sister Republics," as a sequel to " Fernando 
 de Lemos," there are three historical characters not 
 so well and so extensively known as many of the 
 others who figure in its pages. For this reason, I deem 
 it expedient to give the short biographical sketches 
 which follow : 
 
 AUBERT DUBAYET 
 
 was born in New Orleans, on the I7th of August, 
 1759. His father was adjutant-major in the small 
 body of troops which France kept, at that epoch, in 
 her colony of Louisiana, soon destined to be transferred 
 to Spain. The subject of this notice entered in early life 
 the French army, and under Rochambeau served in 
 America during the war of independence between Great 
 Britain and the United States. He was in France at the 
 commencement of her revolution in 1789, and hasten 
 ed to take an active part in public affairs. At that 
 time he published a pamphlet against admitting the 
 Jews to the rights of citizenship. But he afterward 
 became one of the principal advocates for Liberal 
 innovations, without running into excesses, and in 
 1791 was elected to the Legislative Assembly, in 
 which he acted a conspicuous part, and whose presi 
 dent he was for two weeks. In 1793, he resumed his 
 
 (5)
 
 6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 military career, and was made Governor of Mayence 
 (Mentz), on the Rhine, which, after an obstinate de 
 fense, he was compelled to surrender to the King of 
 Prussia. Aubert Dubayet speedily rose to the grade 
 of lieutenant-general, commanded as general-in-chief 
 in La Vendee, and, being defeated at Clisson by the 
 Royalists, or the Chouans, as they were called by the 
 republicans, became the object of denunciations, 
 against which he successfully defended himself. Em 
 ployed again at Cherbourg, where he displayed 
 great intelligence and activity, he was called by the 
 Directory to the post of Minister of War, which he 
 held only three months, being appointed Minister 
 Plenipotentiary of the Republic at Constantinople, 
 where he closed his active and romantic career on the 
 1 7th of December, 1797, when he was hardly more 
 than thirty-eight years old. 
 
 ETIENNE BERNARD ALEXANDRE VIEL 
 
 was born in Louisiana, on the 3ist of October, 1736, 
 and died on the i6th of December, 1821, at the Col 
 lege of Juilly, in France, where he had been educated, 
 and where, in his turn, after having become a Jesuit, 
 he had devoted himself to the education of youth. 
 He resided several years in that part of Louisiana 
 called Attakapas, and formerly occupied by Indians 
 who were men-eaters. He made himself much be 
 loved by those to whose spiritual welfare he had at 
 tended. He is known in the erudite world by a very 
 beautiful translation in Latin verse of Fenelon's 
 Telemachus ; also by some small poems in Latin 
 which he presented to the public in 1816, under the
 
 INTRODUCTION. j 
 
 title of " Miscellanea Latino Gallica," and by an ex 
 cellent French translation of the "Ars Poetica," and 
 of two of Horace's Odes. 
 
 JOSEPH LAKANAL 
 
 was a priest and a professor of belles-lettres before the 
 revolution of 1789. He broke, in 1791, the vows 
 which bound him to the Catholic, Apostolic, and 
 Roman Church. In 1792, he became a member of 
 the National Convention, in which, when the ques 
 tion was presented, he voted for the death of Louis 
 XVI., without appeal and without reprieve. In March, 
 1793, he was commissioned by the National Conven 
 tion to demolish the Chateau de Chantilly, the famous 
 seat of the Condes, princes of the blood, and to con 
 vert to the use of the Republic all the gold, silver, 
 copper, lead, and iron which he could extract from 
 that magnificent edifice. He also took possession of 
 all the papers of that royal and heroic race. As a 
 member of the Committee on Public Education he 
 showed great zeal and intelligence, and, in conse 
 quence of it, was chosen, at a later period, to be a 
 member of the French Institute. On the istof June, 
 1793, he caused the National Convention to issue a 
 decree taking away from the cities, towns, and villages 
 of France all such names as reminded the people of 
 royalty, and giving them other appellations which he 
 indicated. On the I7th of April, 1794, he proposed 
 to erect a monument to those citizens who had per 
 ished in attacking the Tuileries on the loth of 
 August, 1792, and in helping to slaughter the one 
 hundred Swiss Guards on duty in the palace. He
 
 8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 was the author of the decree establishing primary and 
 central schools all over France. On the i/th of Oc 
 tober, 1795, he spoke with great vehemence against 
 such of the people of Paris as had, two days before, 
 risen against the Assembly; he advocated a severe 
 repression of such attempts, and proposed the expul 
 sion from that city of all those who were not residents 
 in it before 1789. He also advised the formation of 
 a guard to protect the Legislative Body. He entered 
 the " Council of Five Hundred " on the 3Oth of Octo 
 ber, 1795, and ceased to be a member on the 2Oth of 
 May, 1797. He was one of the executive commissa 
 ries of the Government, when, having opposed the 
 coup d'etat of the 1 8th Brumaire, he was removed by 
 Bonaparte soon after the latter became First Consul. 
 He was, however, appointed censor or proctor in the 
 Bonaparte Lyceum, and filled its functions until 1809. 
 At the restoration of the Bourbons, the regicide fled 
 from France and came to the United States. He 
 established himself in Kentucky, on the banks of the 
 Ohio, as generally reported, from which he was called 
 to Louisiana, to be put at the head of the College of 
 Orleans, which had long flourished under a wise 
 and esteemed ad.ministration. The appointment of 
 Lakanal was offensive to a large portion of the popu 
 lation, and that institution soon ceased to exist. 
 After the revolution of 1830, he returned to France, 
 where he died, leaving descendants in New Orleans.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ABBE VlEL AND AUBERT DUBAYET A TERRIBLE 
 SECRET 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CONCERT TO ROYALTY THE PRINCESS DE LAM- 
 BALLE IS THERE ANYTHING IN OMENS, PRESAGES, 
 AND PRESENTIMENTS? 27 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONDITION OF THE THIRTEEN NORTH AMERICAN COLO 
 NIES OF GREAT BRITAIN IN 1780 LIEUTENANT AU 
 BERT DUBAYET IN NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND, WITH 
 ROCHAMBEAU AND THE FRENCH ARMY . . .42 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 GLOOMY VIEWS AND FEELINGS OF WASHINGTON His 
 APPEAL TO FRANCE 54 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TIMELY AID OF FRANCE SIEGE AND SURRENDER OF 
 YORKTOWN DUBAYET is MADE CAPTAIN . .64 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DISCONTENT OF THE AMERICAN ARMY A CROWN is 
 
 OFFERED TO WASHINGTON 72 
 
 (9)
 
 10 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DISBANDING OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ARMY SUBLIM 
 ITY OF THE MORAL CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON . 84 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WASHINGTON AT MOUNT VERNON AUBERT DUBAYET 
 BECOMES HIS GUEST 95 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 INSURRECTION IN MASSACHUSETTS ADOPTION OF A 
 NEW FORM OF GOVERNMENT FOR THE UNITED 
 STATES VIEWS AND APPREHENSIONS OF STATES 
 MEN DUBAYET RETURNS TO FRANCE . . . 109 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU BECOMES A CLOTH MER 
 CHANTHIS FIRST POLITICAL SPEECH AT Aix, AS 
 A CANDIDATE BEFORE THE PEOPLE . . . .125 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 REPUBLICANISM AND ROYALISM THE RED CAP AND 
 THE BASTILE 145 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SCENES IN THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY OF FRANCE MI 
 RABEAU TAKES THE LEAD HlS INTERVIEW WITH 
 
 MORRIS, THE MINISTER PLENIPOTENTIARY OF THE 
 UNITED STATES 152 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE SUPPER OF THE ACTRESS A SCENE BETWEEN MI 
 RABEAU AND THE DUKE OF ORLEANS . . .165
 
 CONTENTS. 1 1 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF ELOQUENCE A GLANCE AT THE FUT 
 URE OF THE UNITED STATES BY MIRABEAU . . 178 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MIRABEAU IN HIS DRESSING-ROOM 1 SA TOILETTE 
 A VALET WHOSE HAPPINESS CONSISTS IN BEING 
 BEATEN BY HIS MASTER . .... 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 A DINNER PARTY TALLEYRAND AND HIS GUESTS . 209 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 TALLEYRAND'S EVENING RECEPTION .... 240 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AN INTELLECTUAL PASSAGE-AT-ARMS BETWEEN THE 
 ABBE MAURY AND ROBESPIERRE .... 248 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CONTRAST BETWEEN THE ENGLISH AND FRENCH NA 
 TIONAL CHARACTER MIRABEAU REVIEWS CRITI 
 CALLY SOME OF HIS CONTEMPORARIES . . . 263 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A PORTRAIT OF MIRABEAU BY HIMSELF HE AN 
 NOUNCES IN THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY THE DEATH 
 OF FRANKLIN 274 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A MIDNIGHT INTERVIEW IN THE GARDEN OF VER 
 SAILLES BETWEEN MIRABEAU AND THE QUEEN, 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE DEATH OF MIRABEAU . 286
 
 I2 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE JACOBIN CLUB MAKAT AND CATHELINEAU THE 
 SANS-CULOTTE AND THE VENDEAN JEFFERSON'S 
 LETTER HELPING MARAT 33 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 CHARLOTTE CORDAY ASSASSINATION OF MARAT . .318 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 THE LAST BANQUET OF THE GIRONDISTS . . .344 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 DEMOLITION BY A DECREE OF THE NATIONAL ASSEM 
 BLY OF THE CHATEAU DE CHANTILLY THE HOME 
 OF THE GREAT CONDE THE VISION IN THE LAKE . 354 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THERESA CABARRUS AND TALLIEN FALL OF ROBES 
 PIERRE . 385 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE LEADERS OF MEN AND THEIR WEARINESS OF 
 SPIRIT 4ic 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A QUARREL AND ALMOST A WAR BETWEEN THE Two 
 SISTER REPUBLICS DEATH OF AUBERT DUBAYET 
 AT CONSTANTINOPLE 421
 
 AUBEBT DUB A YET; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE TWO SISTER REPUBLICS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ABB VIEL AND AUBERT DUBAYET A TER 
 RIBLE SECRET. 
 
 IN the month of November, in the year 1779, on 
 one of those exquisite autumnal days so peculiar to 
 Louisiana, when merely to inhale the balmy atmos 
 phere is a feast of the senses, two men were standing 
 on the left bank of the Mississippi, in front of Tou 
 louse street. The sun, verging toward the western 
 horizon, was gilding with its last rays the roofs of 
 New Orleans and the tops of the tall moss-covered 
 trees, which looked like gray-bearded giants, on the 
 opposite side of the river, in the rear of several plan 
 tations then existing where the town of Algiers has 
 since grown up. A vessel was in sight, just turning 
 round a projecting curve, and was fast coming up 
 with all her sails swelling under the breath of a strong 
 breeze, which impelled her onward like a thing of 
 life. One of those men was a youth, about twenty- 
 one years old ; the other had reached fully double the 
 age of his companion. The former, elegantly dressed 
 after the fashion of the time, was Jean Baptiste An- 
 nibal Aubert Dubayet, a native of Louisiana, and a 
 
 (13)
 
 I4 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 son of Adjutant-Major Dubayet, who had long served 
 in the small body of troops which France had main- 
 tained in her colony of Louisiana before its cession 
 to Spain, and who had lately died, leaving a widow 
 and an only son the one now before us. The young 
 man had just returned from Europe, where he had 
 received a complete classical education in a college of 
 Jesuits. His companion wore the costume of an ec 
 clesiastic, and belonged to the celebrated religious 
 order founded by Loyola. He also was born in Lou 
 isiana. But he had in early life gone to France, and 
 had subsequently become a teacher in the institution 
 where Aubert Dubayet had recently graduated with 
 distinguished honors. Conceiving for his pupil a 
 strong attachment, he had returned with him to New 
 Orleans. He was called Labbe Viel. The abbt was 
 an unsurpassed Latin and Greek scholar, and was so 
 wedded to ancient literature that he admired noth 
 ing of the modern, except the poem of Telemachus, 
 by Fen61on. Perhaps it was because the work of the 
 archbishop of Cambrai had been evidently inspired 
 by Homer and Virgil, and the subject had been taken 
 from the quarry of antiquity with all the approved 
 and traditional machinery of gods and goddesses. 
 The only fault he found with that production was its 
 being written in French and in prose. " Otherwise," 
 he said, " it would have been a grand epic poem, 
 ranking next to the Iliad, the Odyssey, and the Eneid.** 
 Wherefore he had translated it into Latin verse, really 
 worthy of the Augustan age. This learned Jesuit, 
 although a truly pious man, was, it must be confessed, 
 more familiar with the classics than with the Bible 
 and the writings of the fathers of the Church. He 
 had in particular a sort of devotional attachment to
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. !j 
 
 Horace, who was his oracle and whom he quoted on 
 every occasion. Hence, deploring that the great ma 
 jority of his countrymen could not profit by the 
 philosophical and literary principles of him whom 
 he called "The sage of the Sabine farm," he had ven 
 tured to translate into French some of the epistles 
 of that poet and his Ars Poetica. His Latin transla 
 tion of Telemachus, published in a costly edition by 
 the voluntary and spontaneous subscription of some 
 of his pupils and admirers, had gained him consider 
 able reputation, increased by his French translations 
 of Horace, although he frequently regretted the im 
 propriety of having travestied that author in a lan 
 guage so very inferior to the original, " and yet it is 
 better," he would say, "thus to present to the igno 
 rance of the modern world this great luminary of the 
 ancient pale, distorted, and obscured as its light may 
 be by passing through the medium of an opaque and 
 coarse glass, than not present it at all." The abbe con 
 sidered as a profound ignoramus any one who did not 
 have at his fingers' end the Latin language ; and, as 
 to the Greek, he deeply commiserated the unfortu 
 nate man who was not acquainted with its beauties. 
 He always carried about him, safely stowed at the 
 bottom of his literary carpet-bag, and with as much 
 care as his breviary, some compositions of his own, 
 in Latin, of course, which he had decorated with the 
 title of Miscellanea Latino Gallica " Latino-Gallic 
 Miscellanies." These he would occasionally read by 
 scraps to his most intimate friends and favorite pupils. 
 It was only when in his eightieth year, that he could 
 be prevailed upon to overcome his modesty and to 
 lay before the public any original production of his 
 own mind. To the entreaties of his admirers during
 
 X 6 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 half a century he had constantly replied that there 
 are few things worth publishing after the master 
 pieces of antiquity. " I, for one," he declared, "will 
 not be guilty of such presumption." But, in extreme 
 old age, a short time before he died in France at the 
 college of Juilly, where he had been educated and 
 where he ended his life, engaged to the last in dis 
 charging the duties of a professor, he changed his 
 mind the paternal fondness of the author for his 
 literary progeny having probably so increased with 
 years as to become irresistible. 
 
 Such was the individual who, on the day and at the 
 hour I have mentioned, stood with Aubert Dubayet 
 on the bank of the Mississippi, and watched with 
 keen interest the rapid approach of the vessel which 
 I have described, and which sported conspicuously 
 the white flag of France. It was a large merchant 
 ship from Bordeaux. Pointing to her with his index, 
 " News, news from France, from our beloved France ! " 
 exclaimed the abbe, joyfully. "This navh jac tantibns 
 austris, this tempest-beaten ship, will rejoice our 
 hearts. Let us go on board." By this time the ship 
 had dropped her anchor near the bank of the river, 
 but not so near as to permit communication with her 
 without the assistance of a boat. Labbe Viel and 
 Aubert Dubayet, throwing themselves into one, were 
 soon on deck, and exchanging warm greetings with 
 the captain, whom they knew well and with whom 
 they had once crossed the Atlantic. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " exclaimed the learned Jesuit, patting 
 the broad chest of the rugged captain, " illi robitr, & 
 <es triplex circa pcctus erat, qui fragilem truci com- 
 misit pdago rat em primus." 
 
 "Still spouting your confounded lingo, which I
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. ij 
 
 don't understand," said the captain, smiling good- 
 humoredly. " I take it for granted that you are ask 
 ing me in Latin for a bottle of claret. Let us go 
 down for it. Besides, I have for you in my cabin a 
 package of letters. Follow me ; I lead the way." 
 
 " Agreed," said the incorrigible abbe, " recepto dulce 
 mihi furere est amico, which means, captain, that I 
 hope to drink your health many a time before you 
 are drowned in that villainous element on which you 
 live." 
 
 When they were below deck, " Pray, be seated on 
 this sofa, gentlemen," said the captain. " Steward, 
 bring glasses and our oldest claret." The order was 
 soon obeyed, and pledges of good wishes exchanged 
 over the ruby-looking liquid. " Now," continued the 
 captain, drawing a package from his desk and handing 
 it over to the abbe, " here are letters for you both. I 
 must on deck to give orders, whilst you commune 
 with your distant friends. Break the seals open with 
 out ceremony. Make yourselves at home and com 
 fortable. The claret will remain before you and at 
 hand," and, bowing to his guests, he ran up the steep 
 steps by which they had come down, and his voice of 
 command was heard above, giving orders to his crew. 
 
 The two men were soon immersed in the reading 
 of their letters. " O, how happy I feel, father! " ex- 
 chimed Aubert Dubayet, addressing the ecclesiastic. 
 " Here is a letter from Augustin Calandrano, and one 
 from Joseph Lakanal, my chums at college and your 
 favorite pupils. Both are provided for. Augustin Ca 
 landrano, or rather Tintin Calandro, as we used to call 
 him by abbreviation, is chief musician of the princess 
 de Lamballe's chapel, with a good salary and an occu 
 pation suited to his taste and peculiar nature, and
 
 !g A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 Joseph Lakanal, who has entered the holy orders, to 
 which he was inclined at school, has obtained, through 
 the influence of the princess, at the solicitation of Tin- 
 tin, the situation of professor of belles-lettres in the 
 academy of the city of Toulouse. 
 
 "I rejoice at it with all my heart," replied L abb$ 
 Viel. " O fons Blandusia, non sine floribus, aras dona- 
 beris hatdo, cni frons turgida cornibus primis, which 
 means that, to-morrow, when saying mass, I shall offer 
 special thanks for these news. But night comes apace, 
 my son ; let us retire. I can no longer read even the 
 superscription of this letter. Before we go, however, 
 as our news are so cheering, let us make a libation to 
 the gods. Per Bacchum, this wine is excellent. Nunc 
 est bibendum, Horace would certainly have said on such 
 an occasion. Fill up, boy ; here is a bumper to the 
 prosperity of the gentle Calandro and of the oak-ribbed 
 Joseph Lakanal, for they are very unlike, although 
 intimate friends. May they ever remain so ! " Down 
 went the glorious liquid, titillating the throat of the 
 good-natured scholar-priest, who smacked his lips 
 after the operation was over. The abbe was temper 
 ate, but he knew how to enjoy a generous cup of un 
 adulterated wine. After the third glass he used to 
 say on convivial occasions : " yam satis est, enough ; 
 it is enough." At that moment the captain, return 
 ing from the deck above, joined them and called for 
 another bottle. 
 
 " No, no," said the abbe. " Non ego te, candide Bas- 
 sartu, invitum quatiam, nee variis obsita frondibus sub 
 divum rapiam, which means, my sea-faring friend : I 
 will not abuse thy gifts, O Bacchus, nor shall I, by 
 taking off my wig in a fit of inebriation, uncover the 
 nakedness of my bald head, which ought to remain
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. Io/ 
 
 hid." The abbe, as we see, had rather an original 
 and eccentric way of translating his favorite author, 
 when in a familiar mood, for the benefit of his un 
 learned friends. 
 
 At the corner of Bourbon and St. Philip streets 
 stood the dwelling house of the Dubayet family. It 
 had, at the time our story begins, only three inmates, 
 widow Dubayet, Aubert Dubayet, her son, and the 
 abbe Viel. In the week following the arrival of the 
 French vessel, on a certain evening, widow Dubayet, 
 a lofty-looking dame, dressed in mourning weeds and 
 still retaining considerable traces of faded beauty, was 
 reclining in a large arm-chair in front of a chimney 
 where blazed a cheerful fire. She looked sad and in 
 bad health, sighing occasionally, particularly when 
 she looked at an oil portrait hung over the mantel 
 piece ; it represented an officer in full regimentals, 
 and wearing on his breast the decoration of the Cross 
 of St. Louis. There was such a strong likeness be 
 tween that portrait and young Dubayet, that it was 
 easy to guess what had been the relationship existing 
 between the two persons. ' It was a remarkably hand 
 some face, with an expression of great decision of 
 character stamped upon it. The lady had her eyes 
 fixed on those features still living on the canvas be 
 fore her and in her fond recollection, when her son 
 entered in full ball costume. He approached his 
 mother respectfully, and imprinted a kiss on her fore 
 head. " His image! " muttered the widow to herself, 
 as she gazed at him admiringly, and said : 
 
 " Where are you going, Aubert ? " 
 
 " To an entertainment, mother, at the house of 
 Olivier de Maison Rouge." 
 
 The widow grew deadly pale and carried her hand
 
 20 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 to her heart, as if a sudden pang had shot through 
 it. " My son," she said with a tremulous voice, " I 
 thought I had requested you not to frequent that 
 house." 
 
 " I tried to obey you, mother," replied the youth. 
 " God knows what efforts I made. It happened, how- 
 ever, to be too late when you spoke. My own affec 
 tions I might have controlled for your sake. But 
 when I discovered that I had secured the heart of 
 Emilie de Maison Rouge, I knew of no satisfactory 
 reason why I should crush it." 
 
 " Can you believe, Aubert, that there was none sat 
 isfactory to your mother when she addressed such a 
 request to you?" 
 
 " Your reasons, whatever they may be, you have 
 not been pleased to make known to me. For me, 
 therefore, they do not exist, and perhaps it is better 
 now that they should not be communicated, for I may 
 as well, mother, avail myself of this opportunity to 
 inform you that I am engaged to Emilie de Maison 
 Rouge." 
 
 " Engaged ! affianced ! " shrieked the widow, as she 
 rose from her seat and advanced toward her son with 
 a face which was the very picture of horror and des 
 pair. " You," she said, " you, Aubert Dubayet, marry 
 Emilie de Maison Rouge ! Never, never ! " 
 
 So shocked and astonished was Aubert at the con 
 dition in which he saw his mother that he could only 
 stammer out : " Mother, what is the matter? What 
 is the cause of this terrible excitement ? What can 
 be said against the Maison Rouges? They are fully 
 our equals ; they rank among our best families, and 
 the breath of scandal has never attacked them. I 
 have long been aware of your personal dislike to them
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 21 
 
 But on what is it founded? And should any such 
 thing, or any unaccountable prejudice, be in the way 
 of your son's happiness and honor ? I say honor, for 
 my honor is pledged. How could I break my engage 
 ment ? Ask for my life, but not for more. I can not 
 consent to disgrace my father's name." 
 
 " Boy," exclaimed the lady impetuously, " dare not 
 interrogate me. I forbid that marriage in God's name, 
 whatever may be the consequences. That is enough. 
 It can not, it shall not ever take place." 
 
 " Madam," replied Aubert, respectfully, but firmly, 
 " I am of age to-morrow, and although it will grieve 
 me much to displease you, that marriage shall take 
 place in due time, unless you give me the most satis 
 factory reasons why it should not "; and, bowing low 
 to his mother, he walked out. 
 
 Widow Dubayet stood motionless for a while in the 
 middle of the room, and appeared to have assumed 
 the rigidity of a statue. But at last, coming to her 
 self as it were, she dropped on her knees and prayed 
 fervently. Then she rose, and rang a little bell which 
 she took from a table near her arm-chair. A black 
 servant answered the summons. " Is Labbe, Viel in 
 his room ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 " Tell him that I beg the favor of his coming to me 
 instantly." 
 
 The abbe, soon made his appearance, and widow 
 Dubayet, advancing toward him with hurried steps, 
 said : " Excuse my disturbing you at this late hour, 
 father, but I shall not detain you long. I am much 
 agitated, as you see, and need repose and solitude for 
 the present. All I want to say is, that I must see 
 you in the confessional at church to-morrow, at seven
 
 22 A UBEK T D UBA YE T. 
 
 in the morning. I am sworn to a fearful secret, but I 
 must break my oath. On that point I wish to consult 
 you, and now, good-night." 
 
 The good abbe saw that this was not the moment 
 to ask for any explanation, and retired in great sur 
 prise, without addressing one word to the lady, and 
 without trying to soothe her evident anguish. But 
 as he walked back slowly to his room through a dimly- 
 lighted passage, he kept muttering to himself : " What 
 earthquake is this ? What is in the wind ? There is 
 a storm brewing surely. How shall I prepare for it ? 
 The omens are not favorable. Is it prcegnans cants, 
 aut ab agro rava decurrens lupa Lanumno, fcetaque 
 vulpes f But, dog or wolf, I must conjure down the 
 evil fiend. Ego cut titncbo, providus auspex ; antequam 
 stantes repetat paludes imbrium divina avis immenen- 
 tum, oscinem corvum precesuscitabo so/is ab ortu. That 
 is to say, I will, before going to bed, read two odes 
 of Horace, two chapters of St. John, and repeat twice 
 my evening prayers, adding a special one to St. Peter 
 and St. Paul." 
 
 The next day when Aubert came to breakfast at 
 the regular hour, he was astonished at being told that 
 his mother had gone out, and, when she left the house, 
 had given strict orders that the morning meal should 
 not be delayed on her account, because it was more 
 than probable that she could not return in time for it. 
 As to L'abbe Viel, he had also risen very early, had 
 gone out with Madam Dubayet, and came back alone, 
 looking as if he were insane, crossing himself, and 
 jabbering Latin with such gesticulations as to frighten 
 all the servants, who thought that he must have met 
 the devil, or some other awful apparition. " Tell Au 
 bert, if he should inquire for me," had the abbe said
 
 A UBR T D UBA YET. 23 
 
 to one of the sable menials, " that I wish to be left 
 undisturbed in my room until dinner-time, and that 
 he must excuse my not joining him at the breakfast 
 table to-day." This increased Aubert's surprise, and 
 a presentiment of evil came over him. He hardly 
 tasted the repast which had been spread before him, 
 and retired to a room of which he had made a library 
 a sanctum for the abbe and himself. There they 
 used to have their familiar daily chats the abbe, 
 of course, leading the conversation, which seldom 
 ended without his carrying his pupil back to his 
 former studies of classical lore when on the benches 
 of the school. Aubert was listlessly holding a book 
 in his hand, and trying in vain to fix his atten 
 tion on what he was attempting to read, when his 
 mother entered. He was painfully struck with the 
 evidence of deep suffering which he observed in her 
 face. She looked almost livid. Aubert rose, took her 
 hand, which shook like an aspen leaf, kissed it rever 
 ently, and led her to a seat. She remained silent, 
 striving, as it were, to nerve herself, while one or 
 two slight spasmodic contractions of the lips showed 
 some deep agony at work in the heart's core. After 
 a pause which appeared to Aubert to last an age, 
 she said : " My son, are you still irrevocably bent on 
 that marriage?" 
 
 " How can it be otherwise, dearest mother, unless, 
 as I told you yesterday, you give me the most satis 
 factory reason for not keeping my plighted faith a 
 reason which I can communicate to E;nilie de Maison 
 Rouge, and which may free me from my obligations 
 without disgrace, although it may break my heart ? " 
 
 " O my son, my son ! " exclaimed the lady. " What 
 have you done, and what are you compelling me to
 
 24 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 do ! But, since it must be, let it be. O God ! O 
 God ! How dreadful are the consequences of sin ! " 
 She drew from her bosom a letter which she presented 
 to her son, saying : "This is a communication from 
 Madam de Maison Rouge to your father. It acci 
 dentally, and I now say providentially, came to my 
 hand providentially, because it will prevent the per 
 petration of a crime. It destroyed my happiness, 
 Aubert, but I long ago forgave your father, and prom 
 ised him on oath never to divulge the secret to any 
 human being. My son, Emilie de Maison Rouge is 
 your sister." 
 
 Aubert leaped from his seat, uttered a wild, pierc 
 ing cry, and fell senseless on the floor. 
 
 One month after this event, Emilie de Maison Rouge, 
 reduced to despair by the inexplicable desertion of 
 Aubert, who could not divulge to her the secret com 
 municated to him by his mother, had entered the 
 convent of the Ursulines with the intention of taking 
 the veil, and Labbe Viel had been ordered by his 
 Superior in the province to accomplish a certain mis 
 sion in the fertile, but almost uncultivated prairies of 
 Attakapas, and to ascertain by what means the sparse 
 population of that extensive district, consisting of 
 whites, blacks, and Indians, could be best and most 
 speedily educated and civilized. As to Aubert Du- 
 bayet, he had departed for France in that very ship 
 which, with the abbe Viel, he had visited on her ar 
 rival, and which had brought him welcomed letters 
 from Calandro and Lakanal. There are times when, 
 for individuals as for nations, changes and revolutions 
 chase each other with the fleetness of a race-horse. 
 What was the day before, is not to be found, or rec 
 ognized, on the next morning ; something has passed
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 2 $ 
 
 over it by which it is obliterated or transformed ; 
 events are often accelerated in their march and crowd 
 ed together, as if fate itself was in a hurry to accom 
 plish its decrees, and was subject to fits of impatience 
 and precipitation. 
 
 Aubert Dubayet reached safely the shores of France. 
 Without a moment's delay he went to Versailles, and 
 asked for an audience of the Minister of War, Mar 
 shal Rochambeau, to whom he was distantly related, 
 and to whom he had a letter of introduction. The 
 marshal received him kindly, and inquired whether 
 he could do anything for his service. " Much," re 
 plied Dubayet, gloomily. " I wish for the opportu 
 nity of being killed. Send me to the battle-field, and 
 you will have done for me what I most desire." 
 
 The marshal looked at him fixedly, and, taking his 
 hand, which he pressed, said in a tone not devoid of 
 sympathy, although a slight smile was perceptible on 
 his lips : " Bah ! nonsense ! What misfortune could, 
 on the threshold of life, have been so serious and so 
 irreparable as to make it hateful to you ? You have 
 not lived and suffered enough, to have the right and 
 che wish to die so soon. Your adolescent grief, on 
 whose chin beard has not had time to grow, will pass 
 off like a spell of fever. Stir up, stir up, put spurs 
 on your heels, serve your king and country, and do 
 not mope like an owl in a corner. All that you need 
 is occupation for mind and body a purpose an 
 object in life a career action action ! Well, let 
 me be your physician, and I shall cure you. The 
 king sends a body of troops to the assistance of the 
 North Americans, who are struggling for indepen 
 dence against Great Britain. The expedition will 
 sail from Brest in six days. I advise you to join it.
 
 2 6 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 If you consent, I offer you a commission of second 
 lieutenant in the regiment of Ag6nois, commanded 
 by the marquis of Autichamp, a brave officer." 
 
 " I accept with gratitude," replied Dubayet. 
 
 " Very well," said the marshal, " I compliment you 
 on your decision." After having signed the commis 
 sion and handed it to the new lieutenant, he added : 
 " When we meet again I expect, young man, to see 
 you with a higher grade." Aubert shook his head 
 with an expression of profound dejection. 
 
 " Pshaw, pshaw ! " said the marshal. " You mean 
 that you will seek death. That is the very reason 
 why you will not meet it. We know that, we veter 
 ans, who have faced it so often. Death and Dame 
 Fortune are very capricious. That's one thing which 
 they have in common. Be of good cheer; you may 
 yet rise to be what I am. I remember that I, too, 
 was once inconsolable. But gun-powder is an excel 
 lent cordial. It soon exhilarated and cured me ; it 
 will have the same effect on you. Good-bye, and suc 
 cess to your maiden sword. I will not lose sight of 
 you, and I expect from your colonel a favorable re 
 port of your gallantry at the first battle that shall be 
 fought in America."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CONCERT GIVEN TO ROYALTY THE PRINCESS 
 DE LAMBALLE IS THERE ANYTHING IN OMENS, 
 PRESAGES, AND PRESENTIMENTS ? 
 
 ON his leaving the marshal de Rochambeau, Du- 
 bayet hastened to look for Augustin Calandrano. The 
 meeting of the two friends was warm and genial. 
 Tintin Calandro (to call him by the name under which 
 he was generally better known) was found in a state 
 of intense excitement. There was to be, on the even 
 ing of that very day, at* the Hotel de Toulouse, where 
 resided the princess de Lamballe, a great concert, and 
 the king and queen were to honor it with their pres 
 ence. Tintin being the chief of the musicians of the 
 princess, the whole responsibility of the entertain 
 ment rested on him. " I want you there," he said to 
 Dubayet. " I will have a seat for you in the orches 
 tra, not to admire my music, of course, but to enjoy 
 the brilliancy of the audience. You will see our good 
 and excellent king, our lovely Queen Marie Antoin 
 ette, the worthy daughter of the Caesars, and above 
 all, you will see the princess de Lamballe, the gem of 
 the illustrious house of Savoy, the paragon of all the 
 excellencies of which the earth is susceptible." 
 
 " Take care," said Dubayet, smiling. " You talk 
 like a Romeo and betray your love." 
 
 " Betray ! I am ready to proclaim it on the house 
 tops," replied Tintin. " Why should not a man open- 
 
 (27)
 
 28 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 ly worship the star that twinkles in the distant firma 
 ment ? What can be more harmless? I love the 
 princess as I love all that is most exquisite in the fine 
 arts ; I love her as I love beauty, eloquence, heroism, 
 the royalty of intellect, the royalty of birth, and the 
 rarest endowments of the heart and soul. I love all 
 these things united in the embodiment of what may 
 be deemed by others ideal perfection, but which to 
 me is actual reality. My love is the love of seraphic 
 innocence, that kind of love which must be the all- 
 pervading fluid of paradise and the music of the 
 celestial spheres. I lose sight of earth, my friend, 
 when I look at the princess, and nothing of earth re 
 mains in me. I will introduce you to her, and you 
 will understand my feelings, when you shall witness 
 the halo which encircles her brow." 
 
 "I shall hardly have time," said Dubayet, " to avail 
 myself of the honor which you offer to me, in utter 
 forgetfulness of what I have already told you that I 
 depart the day after to-morrow for Brest, with the 
 grade of lieutenant, to join an expedition which sails 
 for the shores of the colonies of Great Britain in 
 North America." 
 
 " True, I had forgotten it. But, nevertheless, you 
 shall at least see the princess this evening, although 
 at a distance. The effulgence which beams from her 
 person will reach you, and will be sufficient to warm 
 your heart. I'll take no refusal. You will sup with 
 me after the concert, and to-morrow we shall have 
 Lakanal to dine with us. I will write him an invita 
 tion to that effect, for he has recently come to Paris 
 from Toulouse, in whose academy he is a professor, 
 as you know. These are vacation times for him, and 
 he makes the most of it in Paris and Versailles, rub-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 2 9 
 
 bing off, as he says, his provincial rust, and sharpening 
 himself on the grinding-stone of civilization." 
 
 "Very well," said Dubayet, " I consent, with pleas 
 ure, to all you desire. Adieu, to meet again soon. 
 In the meantime, I must be preparing and packing 
 for my departure the day after to-morrow." 
 
 Dubayet, according to his engagement, attended 
 the concert to which he had been invited by Tintin 
 Calandro, and, mingling with the musicians, witnessed 
 from among them the brilliant display made on that 
 occasion by the most refined court in Europe. It ex 
 ceeded all the glorious dreams in which his imagina 
 tion had ever indulged. Here stood royalty in all its 
 antique and hereditary splendor, and radiant with the 
 proud consciousness of its secure duration. Here was 
 the cherished incarnation of a traditional principle ; 
 and, to defend it, if threatened, who then doubted 
 that the loyal sword of France would leap from its 
 scabbard? Here the most polished gentlemen of 
 Christendom, whose breasts glittered with stars, and 
 whose heroic names had for a thousand years bright 
 ened the pages of history, were eagerly pressing round 
 the queen. Surrounded by the most beautiful and 
 elegant women of the kingdom, who courted her 
 smiles, she herself seemed the representation of en 
 throned happiness. 
 
 A piece of music had been composed for the occa 
 sion by Tintin Calandro. At the end of .the perform 
 ance, the example being given by Louis, a whirlwind 
 of applause rose from an audience composed of the 
 gods of the earth, who were over-fastidious in their 
 taste, and not prone to manifestations of enthusiasm. 
 This time these exclamations could be heard bursting 
 from the ambrosia-fed lips of the highest in high
 
 30 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Olympus : " How wonderful ! What is this ? There 
 never was anything like it. How new! How orig 
 inal, how eccentric ! But what genius in that eccen 
 tricity!" Tintin was summoned to the presence of 
 the king, who complimented him graciously, and dec 
 orated him with the cross of St. Louis, as one of the 
 most distinguished artists of France. The queen was 
 profuse in her praises, and encircling a magnificent 
 bouquet she held in her hand with a heavy chain 
 bracelet of gold studded with diamonds, which she 
 detached from her arm, presented it to the astonished 
 musician. The princess de Lamballe, delighted with 
 the success of the entertainment she had given to 
 royalty, approached Tintin Calandro in her turn, and, 
 in the sweetest tones of her silvery voice, expressed 
 her acknowledgments to him. " My Orpheus," she 
 said, " it would ill befit me to compete with the Maj 
 esties of France, who have to-day so munificently and 
 openly honored you with testimonials of their appre 
 ciation. I shall, therefore, content myself with pre 
 senting a mere trifle to your acceptance. I am sitting 
 for my portrait to a young artist, a man of genius 
 like yourself. It shall be sent to you as soon as fin 
 ished." Tintin had received with self-possession the 
 compliments of the king and queen; but, on being 
 thus addressed by the princess de Lamballe, his agita 
 tion was such that it could not be concealed from 
 those who happened to have their eyes fixed on him. 
 He bowed to the ground without being able to reply, 
 and, when attempting to withdraw from her presence, 
 seemed so exhausted from the excess of his emotion, 
 that one of his colleagues of the orchestra stepped 
 forward, and offering his arm, led him away. 
 
 An hour afterward, Dubayet and Tintin Calandro
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 3! 
 
 were supping together. Tintin had invited no one 
 else, as he wished to be alone with his college chum, 
 whom he had so recently met, and from whom he was 
 again to be soon separated. The conversation turned, 
 of course, on the concert, the great event of the even 
 ing. "It was truly," said Dubayet, "a fairy scene, 
 too dazzling to mere mortals like me so much light 
 that one could hardly have believed in the existence 
 of darkness in this world such gorgeousness of wealth 
 as to exclude the conception of poverty and such an 
 overflowing of all those things which ought to consti 
 tute happiness, that it seemed to leave no room for 
 the intrusion of that little drop of water which often 
 falls from human eyes, and which is called a tear." 
 
 Tintin became agitated, as if these words had 
 touched in him some secret spring of grief, or awak 
 ened some fearful apprehension, and buried his head 
 between his hands. After a little while, he looked up, 
 and said : " Aubert, you have heard of second sight, 
 or some sort of mysterious gift, or curse, as the case 
 may be, which goes by more than one name. Do 
 you believe in it?" 
 
 " No," replied Aubert. 
 
 " I do," continued Tintin Calandro. " I know two 
 men who belong to that sect whose members are 
 called illuminati, and at whose visions the world 
 laughs. One is named Cazotte, and the other Gass- 
 ner. Cazotte is here ; Gassner in Vienna. The skep 
 tic may say what he pleases, but surely they are 
 strange men, possessing unknown and terrible facul 
 ties. I know of certain predictions of theirs which 
 make my flesh creep. Shake not your head. They 
 have but too often proved to be true prophets." 
 
 " What are those predictions ? " inquired Dubayet,
 
 3 2 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 " I shall only mention two, which I wish to remain 
 buried in your breast as in a tomb. It is almost trea 
 son to speak of them." 
 
 " I almost shudder in anticipation and on trust," 
 said Dubayet, laughing and emptying a glass of wine. 
 
 " Alas," groaned Tintin. " Treat not so slightingly 
 what I am going to divulge. As the great dramatic 
 poet of England has said 
 
 " ' There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
 Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' 
 
 But to the point. Gassner, to avoid persecutions 
 which his visions and his religious doctrines had 
 brought upon him in his native country, had fled to 
 Vienna, when our present queen was still a child. He 
 was presented to the empress Maria Theresa, who be 
 came fond of him and took a strange pleasure in list 
 ening to his wild revelations, although she some 
 times ridiculed, or pretended to ridicule, them. ' Tell 
 me,' she one day said to him, ' tell me, since you have 
 the privilege of knowing the future, if my Antoinette 
 shall be happy.' He became very pale, and did not 
 answer. The empress insisted on a reply, and Gass 
 ner, daring neither to continue silent, nor to speak to 
 the point, said evasively : ' Madam, there are crosses 
 for all shoulders.' I met him, some years after the 
 marriage of the archduchess of Austria with the 
 dauphin of France, now Louis XVI., and having 
 heard of the anecdote, I interrogated him about it. 
 He burst into tears, and requested me never to ap 
 proach him on that subject." 
 
 " And can you permit, my friend," asked Aubert, 
 " the nonsensical imaginings of diseased brains to 
 have any influence over your mind ? "
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 33 
 
 " Nonsensical imaginings ! But are not the pages 
 of history full of portents, presentiments, and pres 
 ages which did not turn out to be without a meaning, 
 notwithstanding the sneers of what goes by the 
 name of philosophy? I can not but be alarmed, 
 when I remember that Marie Antoinette was born on 
 the day of the earthquake of Lisbon that never-to- 
 be-forgotten disaster and it is not a disconnected 
 omen. At the precise moment when her wedding 
 took place at Versailles, the sky, which had been pure 
 and serene before, became dark with clouds, and the 
 most dreadful storm burst out on a sudden, shook to 
 its foundations the palace of our kings, and did infi 
 nite damage wide and far. A few days afterward 
 there were public rejoicings in Paris to commemorate 
 the royal marriage. What happened ? A series of 
 the most heart-rending accidents which caused the 
 death of more than twelve hundred persons. Nay, 
 more the prime minister, the duke de Choiseul, who 
 negotiated that marriage, was shortly after exiled by 
 Louis XV., notwithstanding the entreaties of Marie 
 Antoinette, duchess of Berri and dauphiness of 
 France. But this is enough. I will not go over all 
 the mournful and death-ringing links of the long 
 chain of extraordinary presages concerning her." 
 
 " Bah ! " said Dubayet ; " can you seriously be af 
 fected by such things? Can you attach any impor 
 tance to coincidences?" 
 
 " Certainly not, were I to take it for granted, like 
 other people, that an accident, or incident, is the re 
 sult of chance. But I do not believe that there is 
 any room left for chance in the mathematical creation 
 of the omnipotent geometrician. This little world 
 of ours, as we understand it with our dim and con- 
 2*
 
 34 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 tracted intellect, apparently teems with accidents. 
 Our life looks as if made up of them. But there are 
 no accidents for God. They are incompatible with 
 His providence and prescience. The infinite universe 
 could not hold on one minute together, if any hole 
 in it, however small it might be, had been permitted 
 to exist, so as to allow an accident to creep in. There 
 would be an entire disorganization of the whole ma 
 chinery. Hence, I do not see why what we call acci 
 dents and coincidences should not have a language 
 and a meaning, if in reality they are, as T think, pre 
 concerted events, with mysterious connections which 
 we do not comprehend, but which have something to 
 do with our destinies." 
 
 "Very well, go on," said Dubayet. " I am not in 
 clined to contradiction to-night, and shall take care 
 that our conversation does not degenerate into a misty 
 metaphysical discussion. If you have done with 
 Gassner, what of Cazotte ? I like prophets, for I like 
 the supernatural. The world is so commonplace, 
 stale, and flat ! The supernatural is the champagne 
 of the banquet of life. Let us have some of it by 
 all means. Off with the cork, pop, pop ! The cup 
 of credulity is ready." 
 
 " Well, then," continued Tinto Calandro, " when the 
 present king ascended the throne there were great 
 festivities in Paris. On the Place Louis XV. there 
 was to be a grand display of fireworks, which the 
 king was to grace with his presence and that of the 
 queen. My father then occupied an apartment, the 
 windows of which opened on the Place, and com 
 manded a full view of it. Cazotte had dined with 
 us, and we were all three gazing at the vast multitude 
 before us, when the king, the queen, and their suite
 
 A UBERT DUB A YET. 35 
 
 made their appearance, and ascended the platform 
 which had been prepared for them. Cazotte fixed his 
 weird looks intently on the prince and kept them 
 riveted on him, until he was thrown into a sort of 
 trance, during which he raved incoherently. ' Ah ! 
 Louis, ah ! Louis,' he exclaimed, ' that is the very 
 spot where your scaffold shall be erected, and where 
 the public executioner shall cut off your head, and 
 show it in triumph to a demon-possessed multitude.' 
 He continued his horrible vaticinations amidst sobs 
 and shrieks, until he fell into a complete state of cata 
 lepsy, in which he remained several hours, as if dead. 
 If you knew Cazotte as well as I do, you would not 
 think so lightly of this tale of mine, preposterously 
 monstrous and evidently impossible as the prediction 
 may sound." 
 
 " Preposterously monstrous, yes ; but evidently im 
 possible, no," said Dubayet. " Did not Charles Stuart 
 die on the scaffold ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " replied Tintin, " that was in England. But 
 in France ! Pshaw ! " 
 
 "Revolutions are cosmopolites," said Dubayet, 
 dryly. " Whenever and wherever they set society 
 topsy-turvy, the king and the rag-picker are on a foot 
 ing of equality, and when time-honored institutions 
 are tumbling down on all sides by the shaking of an 
 universal earthquake, when the world is playing at 
 somersaults, and old chaos claims his own again, I 
 would rather insure the rag-picker's head than the 
 king's. I do not wish to be a prophet of evil like 
 your Gassner and your Cazotte, but, methinks, I hear 
 strange rumblings in the bowels of the worn-out Eu 
 ropean monarchies. Even on the other side of the 
 Atlantic, in new-born and virgin America, I hear an
 
 36 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 ominous shout, which may be re-echoed from pole to 
 pole. Remember one strange fact. In a few days I 
 shall, by the order of the descendant of a long line of 
 kings and under the lily flag of France, be on my way 
 to the relief of rebels, who have not only denounced 
 their legitimate sovereign and impeached him at the 
 bar of their own self-instituted tribunal, but also pro 
 claimed, in the face of heaven and earth, that all men 
 are born free and equal. You who believe in presages, 
 what think you of that one?" 
 
 " Alas," replied Tintin Calandro, " there were bad 
 presages enough from the birth of the king to the 
 present time. He was born at Versailles when the 
 king, his grandfather, was at Choisy. The messenger 
 who carried to that place the news of the increase of 
 the royal family, fell from his horse as he arrived, and 
 subsequently died in consequence of that fall. Louis 
 became an orphan when still a child ; he lost his 
 father and mother almost at the same time. Bad 
 luck, bad luck, is it not? On the death of his elder 
 brother, when he heard of his being heir to the throne, 
 he burst into tears and even lost his senses. Was it a 
 presentiment of coming evil ? And finally, when he 
 was informed of the king's demise and of his acces 
 sion to the throne, he exclaimed : ' O God, what a 
 misfortune for me!' Was it again a presentiment? 
 And then his very name ! There hardly ever was a 
 duke of Berri who was not ill-fated. How strange ! " 
 
 Thus they communed until it was very late in the 
 night, when they separated after having made the en 
 gagement of meeting again on the next day, to dine 
 with their classmate, Joseph Lakanal. On that day, 
 at six o'clock in the afternoon, the three friends had 
 come together at a private room bespoken for the
 
 A UBER T D USA YE T. 
 
 37 
 
 purpose in one of the most celebrated restaiirants of 
 Paris. Tintin Calandro, to do honor to his two guests, 
 whom he was so happy to meet and to entertain, had 
 put on his best apparel. He wore a blue silk coat, 
 with a flowered satin under -vest, chestnut-colored 
 breeches, white stockings, bright gold buckles at the 
 knee, and still brighter ones, if possible, on his highly 
 polished calf-skin shoes. On his breast glittered the 
 Cross of St. Louis, which had been given to him by 
 the king on the preceding evening. His hair was 
 elaborately powdered, and the queue which fell back 
 over his collar had been artistically combed and tied 
 with a glossy, jet-black ribbon. Ruffles and shirt 
 frills of exquisite lace completed his studiously nice 
 toilet. A steel-hilted sword was suspended to his 
 left side, and a large diamond sparkled on one of his 
 prodigiously elongated fingers. It was a gala day for 
 him to meet his school friends, so that the princess 
 de Lamballe's favorite and petted maestro had been 
 tempted to indulge in some foppishness of dress. 
 Lakanal was habited as ecclesiastics were in those 
 days. His black gown had a harsh look, which cor 
 responded with that of his face. Aubert Dubayet 
 sported with youthful grace the elegant uniform of 
 the regiment in which he had obtained a lieutenancy. 
 But a black crape, the badge of mourning, encircled 
 his left arm, and an expression of sadness dwelt on 
 his handsome features. 
 
 " My friends," said he, after having exchanged 
 greetings with Tintin Calandro and Lakanal, " I meet 
 you not in a convivial mood, for I have just received 
 a letter from Uabbe Viel, who informs me of the death 
 of my mother in Louisiana, from which I lately de 
 parted for a reason that brooked no delay. She was
 
 3 g A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 in precarious health, and I feared what has happened. 
 The blow, therefore, was not unexpected, but it is not 
 the less painful. I have not allowed it, however, to 
 prevent me from keeping my engagement, as we part 
 to-morrow, perhaps never to meet again. I am now 
 alone in the world, with no other ties than those which 
 bind us together, and I have no desire to prolong my 
 existence. Probably an English bullet will soon carry 
 me off in Virginia, or in Massachusetts." 
 
 Tintin embraced him tenderly and said: "You will 
 live, I hope, to conquer all your sorrows, of whatever 
 nature they may be, and to serve your king faithfully 
 wherever he sends you. It is not a misfortune to 
 taste of sorrow early in life. Sorrow is, perhaps, the 
 strongest pledge and proof of the immortality given 
 to us by Providence. It matures the heart and de 
 velops in it a keener and clearer sense of our duties. 
 Man alone, among all the created things of which we 
 have any knowledge, has duties to perform. Hence 
 sorrow may be said to be one of his normal attributes, 
 and the assurance of eternal life with eternal obliga 
 tions to discharge. The ox, the horse, and all other 
 creatures moved by instinct have no duties imposed 
 on them, and are incapable of guilt and virtue. Man 
 only is a moral being, susceptible of sorrow and of 
 the knowledge of good and evil. This imposes re 
 sponsibility, and responsibility to God implies im 
 mortality; for annihilation would put on the same 
 footing vice and virtue. I do not know but what 
 we ought to thank Heaven for what lacerates our 
 hearts when we are still in the vestibule of our earthly 
 career. It is a passport to a better life here and here* 
 after." 
 
 " Tintin," said Lakanal, " you were born a preacher,
 
 A UBER T D USA YE T. 39 
 
 and you have missed your vocation. It is your pas 
 sion to be moralizing forever, even in this butterfly 
 dress of yours. Although more worldly-minded than 
 you are, notwithstanding my canonicals, I am as 
 much for the performance of duty as you may be, 
 whether it secures, or not, a reward in another world. 
 But it is a pity that men so often disagree about that 
 fine thing called duty, particularly duty of a public 
 and political nature. Our whole country will soon 
 . fall to loggerheads on the subject. You, for instance, 
 think that the king is France, and that France is the 
 king. You are an intense royalist. For me France 
 is everything, and the king nothing. I am an intense 
 republican. Hence, fill your glass and drink to Louis 
 and to his lieutenant Dubayet, whilst I drink to the 
 rebels of America and to all those who go to their 
 assistance, including, of course, our dear friend here 
 present." 
 
 " I fill to the brim," chimed in Tintin Calandro, 
 "and here is my sentiment: Success to the allies of 
 my royal master, be they rebels, republicans, or dev 
 ils. Good, it is said, frequently comes out of evil. 
 What matters the utensil the cook has used, if a 
 palatable dish is brought out of it ? Therefore, hur 
 rah for the Americans and the foes of England ! " 
 
 " I. join in your libation," said Dubayet gravely, 
 " but without deciding between you. I am not in a 
 mood just now to care much for royalists or republi 
 cans." 
 
 The friends spent several hours together. Their 
 conversation was serious and argumentative ; not a 
 jest enlivened it. Professor Lakanal, of the Low 
 clergy, represented the new order of ideas which were 
 developing themselves. Tintin Calandro, on the con-
 
 4 o ^ UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 trary, was the type of that regime which was passing 
 away. Dubayet was indifferent, thoughtful, and ex 
 pectant. He was uncertain of what he might or might 
 not be, and careless of the future. This trio was a 
 faithful representation of the three classes into which 
 French society was then divided. Dubayet closed the 
 convivial entertainment over which so much sobriety 
 and gravity had presided, by proposing this toast : 
 " Whatever the future may have in store for us and 
 for France, may we ever remain friends ! " They 
 drank to this sentiment with deep emotion, and sepa 
 rated after repeated embraces. They retired to their 
 respective lodgings, but not one of them went to 
 bed that night. In the reciprocal exchange of their 
 thoughts and feelings, there had been something 
 which had produced on their minds an impression 
 that defied sleep. Vague presentiments, instinctive 
 apprehensions, the distant gleam of future events, 
 weird and fantastic imaginings, flitted confusedly be 
 fore them, casting lights and shadows over the mirror 
 of their brain. Lakanal, when he reached his room, 
 trimmed his lamp, and began writing a treatise on the 
 republics of Greece and Rome which he intended for 
 publication. Dubayet opened Polybius ; and, after 
 reading two or three hours, turned to a map of the 
 thirteen revolted colonies of Great Britain, and be 
 came absorbed in its study. As to Tintin Calandro, 
 after having prayed devoutly, he took his violin, 
 and the most plaintive melodies floated away on the 
 waves of the midnight air, softening into tears those 
 whom they reached in their sleep, and who dreamed 
 that they heard the harp of Israel weeping over the 
 fall of Jerusalem. Tintin was a poet, and had also the 
 fearful morbid sensibilities of those who are fatally
 
 A UBER T D USA YET. 4! 
 
 entitled to that name. His conceptions, although not 
 worked out in metrical numbers, but only in quavers 
 and crotchets, were not the less poems of the highest 
 order. The rod of his violin was his pen, and his soul- 
 stirring instrument was the tablet on which his genius 
 wrote its inspirations. His was the poetry of thought 
 and feeling expressed in sounds ; and, alas ! like them, 
 evanescent. It had not the advantage of being chis 
 elled in those words that are more lasting than brass, 
 and excite the admiration of posterity, long after he 
 who uttered them has been chilled into the silence of 
 death.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONDITION OF THE THIRTEEN NORTH AMERICAN 
 COLONIES OF GREAT BRITAIN IN 1 780 LIEU 
 TENANT AUBERT DUBAYET IN NEWPORT, RHODE 
 ISLAND, WITH ROCHAMBEAU AND THE FRENCH 
 ARMY. 
 
 WHEN the French troops of which the regiment of 
 Aubert Dubayet was a part, landed in 1780 at New 
 port, in Rhode Island, under the command of Count 
 Rochambeau, the condition of the thirteen revolted 
 colonies of Great Britain was found by their new allies 
 to be worse than it was expected. Washington had 
 just written to Reed, of Pennsylvania: "We have 
 never experienced a like extremity at any period of 
 the war." The winter of that year had been intensely 
 rigorous. It had brought famine to the camps of the 
 revolutionary soldiers. " For a fortnight past," wrote 
 their illustrious chief on the 8th of January, " the 
 troops, both officers and men, have been almost per 
 ishing with want." The Americans, tried by a multi 
 tude of indescribable sufferings, were learning to their 
 sorrow what it costs to indulge in the luxury of revo 
 lutions. The French, not long after, made the same 
 experiment, and have since repeated it often, although 
 one of them has propounded to the world this ques 
 tion : " Is it possible for anybody to be again cheer 
 ful, who has ever witnessed a revolution and its conse 
 quences?" He might find an answer in the saying of 
 (42)
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 43 
 
 one of his compatriots, who asserts " that a revolu 
 tion always demoralizes everybody without instruct 
 ing any one." But, whatever be the effects of such 
 political convulsions, the Americans had to meet them 
 in the best way they could, and although the cold 
 had been so unusual as to freeze the great bay of New 
 York, yet it had comparatively very little to do with 
 their distress and difficulties. The main cause was, 
 that Congress had gone to war without adequate 
 preparations for it a defect which it had never been 
 able or willing to remedy. Congress, under the articles 
 of the confederation which bound the thirteen States 
 together, was the most effete of all governments, if it 
 deserved at all the name of government, of which it 
 had not the most essential attribute the power of 
 levying taxes. That power remained with the States 
 in their respective capacity. Hence it follows that it 
 had not that which is the breath the sustaining ele 
 ment of armies money since patriotism and cour 
 age can not live and thrive on thin air alone. Under 
 the pressure of absolute and irresistible wants, and 
 gasping for relief, it had yielded to the temptation of 
 adopting the modern contrivance of issuing paper 
 money, and the natural consequences had followed. 
 The new-fledged States which were struggling for 
 their independence from Great Britain, and which 
 were loth to subject themselves to a strong central 
 government, although it should be of their own crea 
 tion, imitated the fatal example of the shadowy one 
 which they had set up as their head and leader, and 
 flooded the country with their own issues of paper 
 money. All those different streams mingled after 
 ward into one which was called " continental cur 
 rency." It soon became of no value, for in 1780 it
 
 44 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 had declined to such a degree that more than forty 
 dollars in paper were hardly equivalent to one in specie. 
 To correct the evil, Congress imagined to make these 
 rags a legal tender, at the nominal value of the cur 
 rency, in discharge of debts contracted for gold. Thus 
 a national sanction was given to knavery ; bad faith 
 was legalized, and patriots were invited to become 
 pickpockets. On that occasion, as on every other of 
 the same nature, it was shown that good never can 
 come out of evil, notwithstanding the common saying 
 to the contrary, and the condition of the country be 
 came worse. The commissary department was ren 
 dered incapable of getting supplies, and Washington 
 was compelled to have recourse to the cruel and dan 
 gerous resource of impressing, and giving drafts which 
 were to be paid on a future and uncertain day. Charles 
 Lee, the second in command to Washington, and who 
 had been very near superseding him, having been 
 made prisoner, had turned traitor, and had voluntarily 
 submitted to the British government, for the subjuga 
 tion of the rebels, a plan which, if it had been follow 
 ed, might have been attended with disastrous conse 
 quences. Arnold, one of the most distinguished of 
 the American generals, was reported to have "an itch 
 ing palm," and by many was suspected of dissatisfac 
 tion, particularly after his marriage in Philadelphia 
 with a lady who had been a " toast " and favorite 
 among the British officers. Arnold was a man of 
 luxurious habits and excessive extravagance, and his 
 impatience to get rich amounted almost to a mono 
 mania. There were misgivings and whisperings in re 
 lation to him, as he was known to be getting deeper 
 and deeper into debt a fatal habit, particularly for 
 a public man, and one which will never fail to sum-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 45 
 
 mon to the elbow of the future victim the arch- 
 tempter with his fiendish seductions. 
 
 What materially impeded military operations and 
 produced discontent in the army was, that the busi 
 ness and duty of supporting that body devolved on 
 the respective States and not on Congress, which 
 could only make requisitions. Frequently those 
 requisitions were only partially attended to, if not 
 disregarded altogether. It produced great inequality 
 in the condition of the troops, according to the means 
 and the degree of liberality evinced by the States to 
 which they belonged. Some of the troops were 
 abundantly supplied ; others were ragged, shoeless, 
 and starving ; and these contrasts, being side by side, 
 were the more striking and effective. Hence mur 
 murs, envious comparisons, heart-burnings, and a 
 tendency to seditious combinations. Even feelings 
 of jealousy were entertained in Congress of the com- 
 mander-in-chief. It was thought that his influence 
 was already too great ; that even his virtues afforded 
 motives for alarm ; that the enthusiasm of the army, 
 joined to the kind of dictatorship already confided to 
 him, put Congress and the United States at his mer 
 cy ; and that it was not expedient " to expose a man 
 even of the highest virtue to such temptations." 
 
 To make matters worse, Arnold who, for money, 
 would have sold himself to the foul fiend was look 
 ing all round for a purchaser. He went to the 
 French minister, M. de la Luzerne,* and expressed 
 the desire to borrow from him a sum equal to the 
 amount of his debts; "intimating that it might be 
 to the interest of the king of France to grant the 
 
 * living's " Life of Washington."
 
 46 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 favor, thereby securing the attachment and gratitude 
 of an American general of his rank and influence." 
 It was not necessary to be a very acute diplomatist 
 to understand such language. M. de la Luzerne, be 
 ing a high-spirited man, was greatly shocked. He 
 nobly replied : " When the envoy of a foreign power 
 gives or, if you will, lends money, it is ordinarily 
 to corrupt those who receive it, and to make them 
 the creatures of the sovereign whom he serves ; or, 
 rather, he corrupts without persuading. He buys 
 and does not secure. But the league entered into 
 between the king and the United States is the work 
 of justice and of the wisest policy. It has for its ba 
 sis a reciprocal interest and good-will. In the mis 
 sion with which I am charged, my true glory consists 
 in fulfilling it without intrigue or cabal without re 
 sorting to any secret practices, and by the force alone 
 of the conditions of the alliance." This was striking 
 with the lance of Ithuriel the toad crouching in the 
 heart of the traitor; and, with a view to dislodging 
 the reptile, the French minister complimented Ar 
 nold on his past career of glory, and expressed the 
 hope that he would gather further laurels. But this 
 had no effect on the sordid soul of the venal soldier. 
 What he wanted was money, and not empty-handed 
 compliments. Arnold had probably ceased to be 
 lieve in the success of the cause in which he had 
 enlisted, and was perhaps strengthened in that belief 
 by the discontent which he knew to exist in the ar 
 my, and by the defection of several of the Connecti 
 cut regiments. So dark indeed was the horizon in 
 1780, that Washington himself wrote to the Execu 
 tive of Pennsylvania : " Every idea you can form of 
 our distress will fall short of the reality. There is
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 47 
 
 such a combination of circumstances to exhaust the 
 patience of the soldiery that it begins at last to be 
 worn out, and we see in every line of the army feat 
 ures of mutiny and sedition. All our departments, 
 all our operations are at a stand ; and, unless a sys 
 tem very different from that which has a long time 
 prevailed be immediately adopted throughout the, 
 States, our affairs must soon become desperate be 
 yond the possibility of recovery." 
 
 But what discouraged Washington more than any 
 thing else was the lethargy that had come over the 
 public mind. The spirit with which the Revolution 
 had begun seemed to be dead. It looked as if the 
 majority of the people were sick of the war and anx 
 ious to resume those avocations of life which gave 
 them profit and comfort. Patriotism and the strug 
 gle for independence required too many sacrifices. 
 This was so evident that Washington gave way to an 
 unusual fit of despair, and thus expressed himself : " I 
 have almost ceased to hope. The country is in such 
 a state of insensibility and indifference to its inter 
 ests, that I do not flatter myself with any change for 
 the better." And again: "The present juncture is 
 so interesting, that, if it does not produce correspond 
 ent exertions, it will be a proof that motives of hon 
 or, public good, and even self-preservation have lost 
 their influence over our minds. This is a decisive 
 moment ; one of the most I will go further and say 
 the most important America has seen. The court 
 of France has made a glorious effort for our deliver 
 ance, and, if we disappoint its intentions by our su- 
 pineness, we must become contemptible in the eyes 
 of mankind ; nor can we, after that, venture to con 
 fide that our allies will persist in an attempt to es-
 
 4 g A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 tablish what, it will appear, we want jiclination or 
 ability to assist them in." 
 
 Congress also seemed to partake of the general 
 fainting debility which pervaded the whole confeder 
 acy, and Washington made a powerful effort to rouse 
 that body by thus addressing one of its influential 
 members: "Certain I am," he said, "unless Congress 
 speak in a more decisive tone unless they are vested 
 with powers by the several States, competent to the 
 purposes of war, or assume them as matters of right, 
 and they and the States respectively act with more 
 energy than they have hitherto done, that our cause 
 is lost. We can no longer drudge on in the old way. 
 By ill-timing the adoption of measures, by delays in 
 the execution of them, or by unwarrantable jeal 
 ousies, we incur enormous expenses and derive no 
 benefit from them. One State will comply with a 
 requisition of Congress, another neglects to do it, a 
 third executes it by halves, and all differ either in the 
 manner, the matter, or so much in point of time, that 
 we are always working up-hill ; and, while such a sys 
 tem as the present one or rather, want of one pre 
 vails, we shall ever be unable to apply our strength or 
 resources to any advantage. I see one head gradually 
 changing into thirteen I see one army branching 
 into thirteen, which, instead of looking up to Con 
 gress as the supreme controlling power of the United 
 States, are considering themselves dependent on their 
 respective States. In a word, I see the powers of 
 Congress declining too fast for the consideration and 
 respect which are due to them as the great repre 
 sentative body of America, and I am fearful of the 
 consequences." 
 
 Such was the desperate condition of the revolted
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 49 
 
 colonies of Great Britain when the French fleet ar 
 rived at Newport, in Rhode Island, on the loth of 
 July, 1780. It was composed of seven ships of the 
 line, two frigates, and two bombs, convoying trans 
 ports on board of which were upward of five thou 
 sand troops. This was the first division of the forces 
 promised by France. The second division had been 
 detained at Brest for want of transports, but might 
 soon be expected. The French were not slow in dis 
 covering the true state of things, and concluded that 
 their government had undertaken a hard task when 
 assuming to secure the independence of the thirteen 
 rebellious colonies. Six days after the arrival of the 
 fleet, on the i6th of July, Count de Rochambeau's 
 first dispatch to Vergennes, one of the members of 
 the ministry, was couched in these terms : " Upon my 
 arrival here the country was in consternation, the 
 paper money had fallen to sixty for one, and even the 
 government takes it up at forty for one. Washing 
 ton had for a long time only three thousand men 
 under his command. The arrival of the Marquis de 
 Lafayette and the announcement of succor from 
 France, afforded some encouragement ; but the Tories, 
 who are very numerous, gave out that it was only a 
 temporary assistance, like that of Count D'Estaing. 
 In describing to you our reception at this place, we 
 shall show you the feeling of all the inhabitants of 
 the continent. This town is of considerable size, and 
 contains, like the rest, both Whigs and Tories. I 
 landed with my staff without troops ; nobody appear 
 ed on the streets; those at the windows looked sad 
 and depressed. I spoke to the principal persons of 
 the place, and told them, as I wrote to General 
 Washington, that this was merely the advanced guard 
 3
 
 50 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 of a greater force, and that the king was determined 
 to support them with his whole power. In twenty- 
 four hours their spirits rose, and last night all the 
 streets, houses, and steeples were illuminated, in the 
 midst of fireworks and the greatest rejoicings. I am 
 now here with a single company of grenadiers, until 
 wood and straw will have been collected ; my camp 
 is marked out, and I hope to have the troops landed 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Notwithstanding this illumination and rejoicing, 
 Rochambeau was too far-sighted not to discover that 
 the public joy was somewhat hollow like a rotten 
 tree, and that there was a lingering feeling of disap 
 pointment at the bottom of the heart of the popula 
 tion who appeared to welcome him. The shrewd 
 Rhode Islanders calculated that the French troops 
 were not sufficiently numerous to make success a fixed 
 fact, and the possibility of failure damped the ardor 
 of the patriotic satisfaction which, otherwise, they 
 would have exhibited to exuberance. " The Whigs," 
 wrote Rochambeau, " are pleased, but they say that 
 the king ought to have sent twenty thousand men 
 and twenty ships, to drive the enemy from New York ; 
 that the country is infallibly ruined ; that it is impos 
 sible to find a recruit to send to General Washington's 
 army, without giving him one hundred hard dollars to 
 engage for six months' service, and they beseech his 
 majesty to assist them with all his strength. The 
 war will be an expensive one ; we pay even for our 
 quarters, and for the land covered with the camp." 
 
 If the French were made to pay rent for the very 
 ground on which they encamped, in consequence of 
 the extraordinary degree of acquisitiveness character 
 izing those whom they had come to assist, they showed
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 5 j 
 
 great taste and judgment in the selection of the site 
 of that camp. It was to the east of the town,* and 
 extended nearly across that small island over pictur 
 esque hills and dales. The gallant and martial ap 
 pearance of those troops excited much admiration, 
 and it was acknowledged that their officers, by their 
 refinement and elegance of tone and manner, were a 
 splendid specimen of that old French nobility who 
 had, during so many centuries, filled the world with 
 the fame of their exploits. They bore resplendent 
 historical names, and they were not unworthy of that 
 advantage. Many had come to this new field of 
 achievement, moved by a feeling of adventure and 
 romance. " They had brought out with them," said 
 Rochambeau, their commander, " the heroic and 
 chivalrous courage of the ancient French nobility '' 
 Among them was a duke de Lauzun, as brilliant as 
 his famous ancestor who had saved the wife of James 
 the Second and the infant Prince of Wales from the 
 grasp of a revolutionary usurper. What a contrast, 
 however, between the actions of the two between 
 the Lauzun of the age of Louis XIV. and the Lauzun 
 of the age of Louis XVI. the one, carrying away in 
 his arms, at the dead hour of night and in a piti 
 less storm, the royalty of England fleeing from re 
 bellion and the other, drawing the sword of hered 
 itary chivalry to sever the bonds of that loyalty which 
 binds subjects to their sovereign ! Very little, how 
 ever, did the French nobility thus assembled at New 
 port think of the political consequences of their adven 
 ture and romance. They danced, laughed, flirted, won 
 hearts, amused themselves and others, notwithstand- 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington."
 
 rj 2 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 ing great privations, spent with a prodigal hand the 
 contents of fat purses, and became, therefore, very 
 popular with the puritan descendants of the fol 
 lowers of Cromwell, and of William, the Dutch re 
 storer of the liberties of England. The Rhode 
 Islanders were in an ecstasy of delight, for they sold 
 prodigiously high what they had to sell and made 
 money by the bushel. As to the women, they were 
 all in love with the gay companions who seemed to 
 have no other object in life than to please their sex, 
 and take their hearts by storm, or regular siege. In 
 fact, Newport had become a miniature Versailles, 
 where, in spite of pinching circumstances, prevailed 
 the ease, frivolity, and seduction of court manners, 
 not unfrequently set off by an awkward imitation 
 that provoked ridicule and mirth. During continuous 
 revelries which kept Newport in a blaze of gleesome 
 excitement, there were hardly any, among those 
 scions of the noblest houses of France, who reflected 
 on the antagonism of the two flags that flaunted in 
 the breeze on the shores of Rhode Island, and were 
 entwined together on all occasions of festivity the 
 one, emblematically maintaining that distinctions of 
 rank, rights, and position were the only true and solid 
 basis of society and the other, proclaiming that all 
 men are born free and equal. Most of those gaudy- 
 feathered and belaced gentlemen of France had come 
 to America to gain fame, few to establish a principle. 
 The few succeeded, however ; the principle triumphed, 
 and became a dogma called the sovereignty of the 
 people. The dogma matured into an article of faith, 
 which was imported into France, where it found a 
 congenial soil for its growth. It soon proscribed all 
 social distinctions, razed to the ground the castellated
 
 A UBERT DUB A YET. 
 
 53 
 
 dwellings of its imprudent and self-sacrificing advo 
 cates, and brought to the block the anointed head of 
 the heir of a hundred kings, whilst it destroyed for 
 ever, to their very foundations, hoary and honored 
 institutions that had defied the hand of time during 
 fifteen centuries.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 GLOOMY VIEWS AND FEELINGS OF WASHINGTON 
 DURING THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE HIS 
 APPEAL TO FRANCE. 
 
 AMONG that gay crowd of officers, careless of the 
 future, but mindful of the enjoyments of the present, 
 Dubayet had remained abstracted and gloomy, equal 
 ly indifferent to the love of fame and to the pursuit 
 of pleasure. His participating in their sports was 
 but apparent, and merely to avoid eliciting unpleasant 
 comments on the singularity of his abstention. He 
 did not wish to expose the secret condition of his 
 heart. He sympathized not with the cause of Ameri 
 can independence, nor with anything else. In the 
 spring of life he had withered under the touch of 
 sorrow. A terrible blow had deadened the tree too 
 soon, with all the freshness and honors of its early 
 foliage. Although young in years he was old in feel 
 ing. There are some souls to which grief clings te 
 naciously; it is the ivy of the dilapidated wall. For 
 such organizations time and action are the only phy 
 sicians. He was, therefore, a cold and unconcerned 
 spectator, and being of a reflecting and inquiring turn 
 of mind, he earnestly sought for that kind of infor 
 mation which might lead to healthy action, in the 
 hope of its ending in being a relief to his painful 
 thoughts. What he saw, heard, and read was of such 
 a nature that, in a letter he addressed to his friend 
 
 (54)
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 55 
 
 Lakanal, whom he knew to be intensely interested in 
 any struggle of republicanism against monarchy, he 
 took the most discouraging view of American affairs, 
 and it is not astonishing that he came to such con 
 clusions, for they were warranted by the following 
 circumstances : 
 
 At the time when Congress was refusing to reor 
 ganize effectively the department of the quartermas 
 ter-general, Washington was thus exposing its de 
 rangement : " I am reduced to the painful alternative, 
 either of dismissing a part of the militia now as 
 sembling, or of letting them come forward to starve ; 
 which it will be extremely difficult for the troops al 
 ready in the field to avoid. Every day's experience 
 proves more and more that the present mode of sup 
 plies is the most uncertain, expensive, and injurious 
 that could be devised. It is impossible for us to form 
 any calculations of what we are to expect, and con 
 sequently to concert any plan for future execution. 
 No adequate provision for forage having been made, 
 we are obliged to subsist the horses of the army by 
 force, which, among other evils, often gives rise to 
 civil disputes and to prosecutions, as vexatious as 
 they are burdensome to the public." In that press 
 ing emergency he was compelled to consume all the 
 provisions which had been concentrated at West 
 Point ; but this afforded only a temporary relief, and, 
 on the 6th of September, 1780, Washington com 
 plained that his army had been entirely destitute of 
 meat for three days. In such circumstances armies 
 never fail to plunder even those whom they are called 
 upon to defend and protect. " Such injury," wrote 
 Washington, " to the discipline of the army and such 
 distress to the inhabitants result from these frequent
 
 56 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 events, that my feelings are hurt beyond description 
 at the cries of the one, and seeing the other." Such 
 was the condition of things in the Northern States. 
 It was sad enough, but it was made still more sad by 
 events that had occurred in the South. On the i6th 
 of August, General Gates, the conqueror of Burgoyne 
 at Saratoga, had been crushed by Lord Cornwallis at 
 Camden, in North Carolina, and the brave Baron de 
 Kalb mortally wounded, whilst fighting with brilliant 
 valor at the head of the Second Maryland brigade. 
 On the next day, Sumter, surnamed the "game cock," 
 had been surprised at the Catawba ford by the cav 
 alry of Tarleton, and, after having been completely 
 routed, losing between three and four hundred men, 
 killed or wounded, all his arms and baggage, with two 
 brass field-pieces, had galloped off, it is said, without 
 saddle, hat, or coat. 
 
 On hearing of these disasters, General Washington 
 ordered southward some regular troops enlisted in 
 Maryland for the war. On the I2th of September, 
 1780, he wrote to Governor Rutledge, of South Caro 
 lina, " to raise a permanent, compact, well-organized 
 body of troops, instead of depending upon an irregu 
 lar army of effete militia, always inconceivably expen 
 sive and too fluctuating and undisciplined to oppose 
 a regular force." Three days after, on the I5th of 
 the same month, he sent to the President of Congress 
 a still more urgent and explicit address : " Regular 
 troops alone," he said, " are equal to the exigencies of 
 modern warfare, as well for defense as offense, and 
 whenever a substitute is attempted, it must prove 
 illusory and ruinous. No militia will ever acquire the 
 habits necessary to resist a regular force. The firm 
 ness requisite for the real business of fighting is only
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 57 
 
 to be attained by a constant course of discipline and 
 service. I have never yet been witness to a single 
 instance that can justify a different opinion, and it is 
 most earnestly to be wished that the liberties of Amer 
 ica may no longer be trusted, in any material degree, 
 to so precarious a dependence. In my idea of the 
 true system of war at the southward, the object ought 
 to be to have a good army rather than a large one. 
 Every exertion should be made by North Carolina, 
 Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware to raise a perma 
 nent force of six thousand men, exclusive of horse and 
 artillery. These, with the occasional aid of the mi 
 litia in the vicinity of the scene of action, will not only 
 suffice to prevent the further progress of the enemy, 
 but, if properly supplied, oblige them to compact 
 their force and relinquish a part of what they now 
 hold. To expel them from the country entirely is 
 what we can not aim at, till we derive more effectual 
 support from abroad ; and by attempting too much, 
 instead of going forward we shall go backward. Could 
 such a force be once set on foot, it would immedi 
 ately make an inconceivable change in the face of 
 affairs, not only in opposition to the enemy, but in 
 expense, consumption of provisions, and waste of 
 arms and stores. No magazines can be equal to the 
 demands of an army of militia, and none need econ 
 omy wore than ours." 
 
 Washington was right. Nothing can be more in 
 efficient and unavailable in the field than militia 
 against regulars, and no magazines can be equal to 
 the demands of an army of militia, particularly Amer 
 ican militia, who, from their innate independence 
 of spirit and the habits contracted in private life, 
 are the most extravagantly wasteful of all armed 
 3*
 
 58 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 bodies, and constitute the most all-consuming, all-de 
 vouring one which ever was known to exist. But 
 regulars are not improvised ; it takes years and the 
 schooling of more than one campaign to form a good 
 army, with the soul which ought to animate it, and 
 that confidence which springs from traditions of glory, 
 from discipline, gladiatorial skill, the proud recollec 
 tion of past achievements, the consciousness of being 
 able to surpass them, and of knowing how to use in 
 telligently those materials and military appendages 
 with which it can not dispense without impairing its 
 strength. At the time when Washington expressed 
 the sentiments that I have quoted, the forces which 
 he had under his command, and which could have 
 any pretensions to be called an army, had dwindled 
 into what would hardly have constituted a brigade in 
 Europe, and those forces were starving, discontented, 
 and unequal to the task they had on hand. Hence 
 the humiliating confession extorted from him, and 
 which must have been so painful to his patriotic 
 heart, that, " without a sufficient force from abroad," 
 success was impossible. Such were the feelings, the 
 views, and the apprehensions of the great leader of 
 the American revolution, when, in the latter part of 
 September, 1780, there came upon him, like a clap of 
 thunder, the news of the treason and flight of Arnold, 
 to whom West Point, one of the most strategic points 
 for the Americans, had been confided. Well can we 
 conceive the bitter agony with which he exclaimed, 
 when putting the proofs of that crime into the hands 
 of Knox and Lafayette : " Whom can we trust now ? " 
 It sounded like the dying exclamation of Brutus: " O 
 virtue, thou art but a name! " 
 
 In these conjunctures of extreme distress, General
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. $g 
 
 Greene, who possessed the friendship and confidence 
 of Washington, was appropriately appointed to the 
 command of the Southern department. At the end 
 of November the army of the North had gone into 
 winter quarters ; the Pennsylvania line in the neigh 
 borhood of Morristown, the Jersey line about Pomp- 
 ton, the New England troops at West Point and the 
 other posts of the highlands. The New York- line was 
 stationed at Albany, to guard against any invasion 
 from Canada. The French army remained stationed 
 at Newport, excepting the Duke de Lauzun's legion, 
 which was cantoned at Lebanon, in Connecticut. 
 Washington's headquarters were established at New 
 Windsor, on the Hudson. The commander-in-chief 
 himself was weary of struggling on with such scanty 
 means and such vast responsibilities. Commenting 
 on the campaign which had just terminated, Wash 
 ington wrote to General Sullivan : " We have been 
 half our time without provisions and are likely to 
 continue so. We have no magazines, no money to 
 form them ; and, in a little time, we shall have no men, 
 if we have no money to pay them. In a word, the 
 history of the war is a history of false hopes and tem 
 porary devices, instead of system and economy. To 
 suppose that this great revolution can be accomplished 
 by a temporary army, that this army will be subsisted 
 by State supplies, and that taxation alone is adequate 
 to our wants, is in my opinion absurd, and as unrea 
 sonable as to expect an inversion in the order of nat 
 ure to accommodate itself to our views." 
 
 At the South, notwithstanding the advantages 
 obtained by Colonel Campbell at King's Mountain, 
 Sumter at Black Stock Hill on the Tiger river, 
 Colonel Washington at Clermont, and the incessant
 
 60 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 attacks of Marion, " the swamp fox," the situation of 
 affairs was not encouraging. General Greene, on tak 
 ing command of his department, found only a small, 
 disorganized army, the one-half of which was militia, 
 who had neither tents nor equipage, who were badly 
 clothed and fed, and who had fallen into the habit of 
 relieving their necessities by depredating upon their 
 own countrymen. "The country is so extensive," 
 wrote Greene to Washington, "and the powers of 
 the government so weak, that every one does as he 
 pleases. The inhabitants are much divided in their 
 political sentiments, and the Whigs and Tories pursue 
 each other with little less than savage fury. The back 
 country people are bold and daring ; but the people 
 on the sea-shore are sickly and but indifferent militia. 
 All the middle country is so disaffected that you can 
 not lay in the most trifling magazine, or send a wagon 
 through the country with the least articles of stores 
 without a guard." 
 
 In the meantime, the campaign having ceased at 
 the North, the commander of the British forces in 
 New York was preparing to send to Cornwallis in the 
 South all the reinforcements he could dispose of, " in 
 order," as he said, " to strike a blow that would make 
 the whole continent shake." As Washington beheld 
 one hostile armament* after another winging its way 
 to the South, and received applications from that 
 quarter for assistance which he had not the means to 
 furnish, it became painfully apparent to him, that the 
 efforts to carry on the war had exceeded the natural 
 capabilities of the country. Its widely diffused popu 
 lation and the composition and temper of some of its 
 
 * Irving's " History of Washington," p. 193, vol. iv.
 
 A UBER T D USA YET. 6l 
 
 people rendered it difficult to draw together some of 
 its resources. Commerce was almost extinct ; there 
 was not sufficient natural wealth on which to found a 
 revenue; paper currency had depreciated through 
 want of funds for its redemption, until it was nearly 
 valueless. The mode of supplying the army by assess 
 ing a proportion of the productions of the earth had 
 proved ineffectual, oppressive, and productive of an 
 alarming opposition. Domestic loans yielded but tri 
 fling assistance. The patience of the army was almost 
 exhausted ; the people were dissatisfied with the mode 
 of supporting the war, and there was reason to ap 
 prehend that, under the pressure of impositions of a 
 new and odious nature, they might imagine they had 
 only exchanged one kind of tyranny for another. 
 Hence, Washington urged upon Congress " that for 
 eign aid in money and soldiers were indispensably 
 necessary to a continuance of the war." That indis 
 pensable foreign aid had already been given by France, 
 although not to the extent desired, and also by Spain, 
 who had declared war against Great Britain, and had, 
 in the West Indies and in the Southern part of the 
 continent, produced a favorable diversion in favor of 
 the Americans, for she had attacked and taken the 
 possessions of that power in Florida and Louisiana, 
 under the leadership of the gallant Galvez. But more 
 was wanted to accomplish the independence of the 
 revolted colonies. 
 
 The anxieties of Washington were greatly increased 
 by the mutinous conduct of the Pennsylvania line 
 hutted at Morristown, who marched on Philadelphia 
 to obtain from Congress a redress of the wrongs of 
 which they complained, and with whom it was found 
 necessary to enter into a compromise, which threat-
 
 62 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 ened to destroy the discipline of the rest of the army. 
 He was also much troubled by the failure of the com 
 bined American and French forces against Portsmouth, 
 where it was hoped to capture the traitor Arnold. 
 His disappointment and apprehensions are fully ex 
 pressed in a letter to Laurens, the American minister 
 at Paris, who had been lately sent there on a special 
 mission, to obtain that assistance without which the 
 boasted Declaration of Independence issued by the 
 colonies was evidently destined to be a lamentable 
 abortion. " The failure of this expedition," said 
 Washington, " which was most flattering in the com 
 mencement, is much to be regretted, because a suc 
 cessful blow in that quarter would, in all probability, 
 have given a decisive turn to our affairs in all the 
 Southern States ; because it has been attended with 
 considerable expense on our part and much incon 
 venience to the State of Virginia by the assembling 
 of our militia ; because the world is disappointed in 
 not seeing Arnold in gibbets ; and above all, because 
 we stood in need of something to keep us afloat till 
 the result of your mission is known ; for be assured, 
 my dear Laurens, day does not follow night more cer 
 tainly than it brings with it some additional proof of 
 the impracticability of carrying on the war without 
 the aids you were directed to solicit. As an honest 
 and candid man, as a man whose all depends on the 
 final and happy termination of the present contest, I 
 assert this, while I give it decisively as my opinion, 
 that, without a foreign loan, our present force, which 
 is but the remnant of an army, can not be kept to- 
 gether this campaign, much less will it be increased 
 and in readiness for another. If France delays a 
 timely and powerful aid in the critical posture of our
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 63 
 
 affairs, it will avail us nothing should she attempt it 
 hereafter. We are at this hour suspended in the 
 balance, not from choice, but from hard and absolute 
 necessity ; and you may rely on it as a fact, that we 
 can not transfer the provisions from the States in 
 which they are assessed, to the army, because we can 
 not pay the teamsters, who will no longer work for 
 
 certificates In a word, we are at the end of our 
 
 tether, and now or never our deliverance must come."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TIMELY AID OF FRANCE SIEGE AND SURRENDER 
 OF YORKTOWN AUBERT DUBAYET IS MADE 
 CAPTAIN. 
 
 SUCH was the imbecility with which the conduct 
 of the war was managed by Congress, in spite of the 
 good advice and suggestions repeatedly laid before 
 them by Washington, that, although they had grand 
 ly " resolved " to have in the field, in the beginning 
 of 1781, thirty-seven thousand men under arms, 
 Washington's whole force on the Hudson in the 
 month of May of that year did not reach seven thou 
 sand men, and of that number only four thousand 
 were effective. Congress was fond of adopting " re 
 solves after resolves," grandiloquently significant of 
 its intention of doing wonders, but those "resolves" 
 were mere bags of wind, and Washington and the 
 country wanted something more. Fortunately at 
 this juncture, a French frigate arrived at Boston with 
 the cheerful intelligence that an additional armament 
 of twenty ships of the line with land forces had sailed 
 from France under the Count de Grasse for the West 
 Indies, and that twelve of those ships were to relieve 
 the squadron at Newport. After consulting with 
 Rochambeau, Washington determined to make a di 
 version and to transport the seat of war to the 
 South, where Greene had manoeuvred with great 
 ability, and where the horizon had become some- 
 (64)
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 65 
 
 what brighter; for that general had succeeded, after 
 many trying vicissitudes, in regaining the greater 
 part of Georgia and the two Carolinas, and needed 
 only a little assistance from the North to complete 
 their recovery. If the British, thought Washington, 
 could be entirely expelled from the South, the effect 
 of the blow would be to crush them at the North. 
 In pursuance of the plan he had come to, he arrived 
 at Philadelphia on the 3Oth of August, 1781, but he 
 found a considerable difficulty on the very threshold 
 of his intended expedition. The Northern regi 
 ments were discontented at the idea of going South, 
 and Washington thought that a douceur* of a " little 
 hard money would put them in a proper temper." 
 It was not easy, however, to procure that " little 
 hard money." Fortunately, Rochambeau accommo 
 dated him with a loan of twenty thousand dollars, 
 and a few days after, Colonel Laurens, returning from 
 his mission to France, brought with him two and a 
 half millions of livres, being part of a subsidy of six 
 millions of livres granted by the king. It was like 
 water to the lips of dying travelers in the parched 
 deserts of Arabia. It revived expiring patriotism 
 and stirred even despair into hopeful action. 
 
 On the 2d of September the American troops 
 passed through Philadelphia, followed on the next 
 day by the French, on their way to the South. On 
 the 5th, three miles below Chester, Washington 
 learned that Count de Grasse had entered the Chesa 
 peake with twenty-eight ships of the line and landed 
 three thousand troops under the Marquis de St. Si 
 mon, who was reported to have opened a communi- 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 315, vol. iv.
 
 66 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 cation with Lafayette at Williamsburg, then acting 
 against Cornwallis in Virginia. The British general 
 found it too late to evacuate Yorktown, where he 
 had been resting in fancied security. York river and 
 James river were blocked up by French ships, and on 
 land, Lafayette, Wayne, and St. Simon at Williams- 
 burg prevented his hoping to retreat successfully in 
 that direction, for he had reconnoitered that post and 
 found it too strong to be forced. He was caught in 
 a trap, and all that he had to do was to strengthen 
 his works and defend himself until he could be re 
 lieved. On the I4th of September, Washington ar 
 rived at Williamsburg, and, by the 25th, most of the 
 American and French troops having reached that 
 place, preparations were made for an attack. The 
 town is situated on a peninsula on the south side of 
 York river, immediately opposite Gloucester Point, 
 and was fortified by seven redoubts and six batteries 
 on the land side connected by intrenchments, with a 
 line of batteries along the river. Besides, the town * 
 was flanked on each side by deep ravines and creeks 
 emptying into York river their heads in front of the 
 town being not more than half a mile apart. Corn 
 wallis had availed himself of these natural advantages 
 in the arrangement of extensive outworks, with re 
 doubts strengthened by abatis, field-works mounted 
 with cannon, and trees cut down and left with the 
 branches pointed outward. This was a strong posi 
 tion, and it was occupied by more than seven thou 
 sand troops. The forces of the besiegers consisted of 
 sixteen thousand men, of whom 7,000 were French, 
 5,500 Continental, and 3,500 militia. Gloucester 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 327, vol. iv.
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 6/ 
 
 Point had likewise been fortified by Cornwallis its 
 batteries, with those of Yorktown, commanding the 
 intervening river, in which British ships were also 
 stationed, protected by the guns of the forts; and the 
 channel was obstructed by sunken' vessels. 
 
 On the night which followed the arrival of the com- 
 bined forces before Yorktown, Washington bivou 
 acked on the ground in the open air. He slept un 
 der a mulberry tree, a projecting root of which served 
 for a pillow. Mounting guard near him were a few 
 men taken from the American and French troops, 
 the honor being thus divided. The French squad 
 was commanded by Lieutenant Aubert Dubayet. 
 The moon was full and brilliant, and its rays, passing 
 through the foliage of the tree, would occasionally il 
 lumine, as with a halo of glory, the majestic face of 
 the slumbering hero. The scene acted vividly on the 
 imagination of Aubert Dubayet, and, whenever he 
 spoke of it afterward, he mentioned it as having been 
 more impressive than any one of those which he sub 
 sequently saw in his eventful life. 
 
 On that very night, Cornwallis, as if blinded, or in 
 timidated, instead of determining to dispute inch by 
 inch the approaches of the enemy through the posi 
 tion which he occupied, and which had been made 
 strong by nature and art, inexplicably abandoned his 
 outworks and cooped himself up within the town, 
 notwithstanding the remonstrances of Colonel Tarle- 
 ton, who earnestly dwelt on the advantages which he 
 was throwing away. At daybreak, the American and 
 French troops were not slow in availing themselves 
 of the fault committed by the British commander. 
 They seized upon the outworks thus abandoned and 
 used them to cover the troops employed in throwing
 
 68 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 up breastworks. On the 1st of October, the invest 
 ment of Yorktown by land and by sea was complete, 
 and, on the gth, Washington put the match to the 
 first gun which was fired against the town, after the 
 final establishment of the first parallel. At one time, 
 when he was superintending the works, a cannon shot 
 from the enemy struck the ground close by him, 
 throwing up a cloud of dust. A chaplain in the ar 
 my, named Evans, was standing by the general and 
 was greatly agitated by the incident. In his alarm 
 he took off his hat, and showing it covered with sand, 
 he exclaimed in a tremulous voice: "See here, gen 
 eral, see!" Washington slightly bowed to him, and 
 said with gravity, although with a twinkle of humor 
 in his eye : " Mr. Evans, you had better carry that 
 home and show it to your wife and children." The 
 cannonade was kept up almost incessantly between 
 the besieged and the besiegers, and there were sorties 
 and rencounters, of which the most spirited was be 
 tween the famous Colonel Tarleton and the Duke de 
 Lauzun, in which it was the fortune of the chivalrous 
 nobleman to unhorse that dashing officer, who scram 
 bled out of the m//ee, mounted another horse, and 
 sounded a retreat. This was the last affair of the ter 
 rible Tarleton and of his legion in the Revolutionary 
 war. 
 
 On the night of the I4th, it was determined to 
 storm two of the redoubts which enfiladed the works 
 of the besiegers, and were supposed also to command 
 the communication between Yorktown and Glou 
 cester. The one nearest the river was attacked by a 
 detachment of Americans commanded by Lafayette; 
 the other, by a French detachment led by the Baron 
 de Viom6nil. Hamilton, who subsequently became
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 69 
 
 so famous as a statesman, was the first to mount the 
 parapet by placing one foot on the shoulder of a 
 soldier who knelt on one knee for the purpose, and 
 the redoubt was carried at the point of the bayonet. 
 The redoubt which was to be stormed by the French 
 was more strongly garrisoned. They had, therefore, to 
 proceed with less precipitation and according to rule. 
 The soldiers stood still under a destructive fire, whilst 
 the sappers were removing the abatis, and they suf 
 fered considerably. Whilst the French were thus pati 
 ently waiting for the order of assault, Major Barbour, 
 Lafayette's aide-de-camp, came through the tremend 
 ous fire of the enemy, and informed the Baron de 
 Viomenil that the marquis was in his redoubt, and 
 wished to know where the baron was. " Tell your 
 general," replied the latter, " that I am not in mine, 
 but will be in it in five minutes." The word to as 
 sault was then given, and the French went to it with 
 a rush. The Chevalier de Lameth was the first to 
 mount the parapet, but, shot through both knees, he 
 fell back into the ditch, and was carried away by his 
 friend, the Count de Dumas. The Count de Deux- 
 ponts, leading on the royal grenadiers of the same 
 name, was likewise wounded. The company in which 
 Aubert Dubayet was a lieutenant, fought with exem 
 plary heroism ; two-thirds of the men fell, and almost 
 all the officers were killed, with the exception of Du 
 bayet. When the Baron de Viom6nil stood in front 
 of the few men at whose head Dubayet had placed 
 himself to receive his commander, who came to inspect 
 the taken redoubt, " Lieutenant," said the baron to 
 the young officer, " I have heard of the conversation 
 which you had with Marshal Rochambeau, when you 
 applied for service in the army. You see that it is
 
 70 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 not so easy, as he predicted, to find death when seek 
 ing it, and that promotion presents itself in its stead. 
 I salute you as captain." 
 
 Washington, notwithstanding his habitual self-pos 
 session, had, from the embrasure of the main battery, 
 witnessed these assaults with intense interest. So 
 much depended on their successful issue ! Generals 
 Knox and Lincoln and a crowd of officers were around 
 him. The risk of a chance shot for their chief made 
 those about him uneasy. One of his aides-de-camp 
 ventured on the observation that the situation was 
 very much exposed. " If you think so," replied he 
 gravely, " you are at liberty to step back." 
 
 After the taking of these two redoubts, the be 
 sieged could not show a gun on the side of the works 
 exposed to attack, without its being quickly silenced. 
 Their provisions and ammunition were nearly spent ; 
 their works were tumbling in ruins under incessant 
 cannonade, the garrison was reduced and prostrated by 
 sickness, death, and constant fatigues ; the place was 
 no longer tenable ; and Lord Cornwallis capitulated 
 on the iQth of October, 1781 ; the officers, to retain 
 their side arms, both officers and soldiers their private 
 property, and no part of their baggage or papers to 
 be subject to search or inspection. Cornwallis ren 
 dered the following testimony to his captors : " The 
 treatment, in general, that we have received from the 
 enemy since our surrender, has been perfectly good 
 and proper ; but the kindness and attention which 
 has been shown us by the French officers in particu 
 lar, their delicate sensibility for our situation, their 
 generous and pressing offer of money, both public 
 and private, to any amount, has really gone beyond 
 what I can possibly describe, and will, I hope, make
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. ji 
 
 an impression in the breast of every officer, whenever 
 the fortune of war shall put any of them into our 
 power." 
 
 The joy of Congress was boundless. Thanks were 
 voted to Washington,* to the Counts de Rochambeau 
 and de Grasse, to the officers of the allied armies 
 generally, and to the corps of artillery and engineer. , 
 especially. Two stands of colors, trophies of the 
 capitulation, were voted to Washington ; two pieces 
 of field ordnance to Rochambeau and de Grasse ; 
 and it was decreed that a marble column, commemo 
 rative of the alliance between France and the United 
 States, and of the victory achieved by their associated 
 arms, should be erected in Yorktown. As to the 
 British government, when Lord North, the head of 
 the ministry, received at his office in Downing street 
 the news of the surrender of Cornwallis, it was as if 
 he had been struck with a ball in the breast, for he 
 opened his arms, exclaiming wildly as he paced up and 
 down the apartment : " O God ! it is all over." It 
 was, indeed, all over, and the independence of the 
 United States of America was an accomplished fact. 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 356, vol. iv.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DISCONTENT OF THE ARMY A CR'OWN OFFERED TO 
 WASHINGTON. 
 
 THE allied forces separated shortly after the fall of 
 Yorktown. The Marquis de St Sjmon embarked his 
 troops on the last of October, and Admiral de Grasse 
 sailed with his fleet on the 4th of November. Lafay 
 ette, seeing that the campaign had ended for that 
 year, departed for Philadelphia to obtain from Con 
 gress leave to visit his family in France. Most of the 
 American troops returned northward to winter in the 
 Jerseys and on the Hudson. Count de Rochambeau 
 was to remain in Virginia, and established his head 
 quarters at Williamsburgh. On hearing of the capitu 
 lation of Cornwallis, the king of France promised a 
 further loan of six millions of livres. It was the anx 
 ious wish of Washington to prepare everything for a 
 vigorous campaign in the ensuing year. But the preva 
 lent opinion was, that peace was at hand ; and, under 
 that impression, the people were loth to make new 
 sacrifices and to encounter a continuation of the terri 
 ble trials they had gone through. The respective 
 quotas of troops which were expected from several 
 States came dripping slowly like drops of water from 
 a filtering stone, and still slower came the contribu 
 tions in money. This condition of things produced 
 great discontent in the army officers and men, for they 
 were reduced to the utmost destitution without any 
 
 (72)
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 73 
 
 hope of relief. There were days when they were en 
 tirely destitute of food, and their clothing was not 
 sufficient to protect them against the inclemencies of 
 the weather in that season. It was long since the 
 officers had received any pay with which to support 
 themselves and their starving families at home. Half 
 pay had been decreed to them for a term of years 
 after the termination of the war. But they began to 
 fear, should that event happen, to be disbanded with 
 out any liquidation of their claims and without the 
 fulfilment of the decree of Congress in relation to their 
 half pay in the future. To be sent away penniless, 
 when years of military life had unfitted them for the 
 gainful pursuits of the civilian, was a prospect at which 
 they looked with the utmost degree of anxiety. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs in America when Au- 
 bert Dubayet wrote to Lakanal the following letter : 
 
 " MY DEAR FRIEND : This letter will be to you a 
 shock which will awake you out of your republican 
 dreams. The American army is on the eve of offer 
 ing a crown to its commander-in-chief. Having ob 
 tained a furlough, I am on a visit to Colonel Lewis 
 Nicola, a veteran officer, who honors me with his 
 friendship and confidence. He has been for years on 
 a footing of intimacy with General Washington and 
 exercises a great influence over his companions in 
 arms. As the organ of the suffering army with whose 
 wrongs he keenly sympathizes, he has forwarded to 
 the commander-in-chief a communication in which he 
 strongly condemns the existing form of government, 
 and attributes to it all the ills already experienced 
 and yet to be anticipated by the army and the people 
 at large. He considers that the idea of republican 
 government rests on a sentimental and platonic theory, 
 4
 
 74 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 which, in practice, would produce the most lamenta 
 ble results, and is decidedly incompatible with the 
 permanency of stable institutions, such as are founded 
 on honor, dignity, and morality, and therefore exclu 
 sive of a lasting and reliable national prosperity. He 
 maintains that a mixed government like that of En 
 gland is the best which has ever been devised by the 
 wisdom of man, and that it could be readily im 
 planted here, if its many advantages and benefits 
 were properly pointed out and fearlessly advocated. 
 ' In that case,' says he to the general, ' it will, I be 
 lieve, be uncontroverted, that the same abilities which 
 have led us, through difficulties apparently insur 
 mountable by human power, to victory and glory ; 
 that those qualities which have merited and obtained 
 the universal esteem and veneration of an army, 
 would be most likely to conduct and direct us in the 
 smoother paths of peace. Some people have so con 
 nected the idea of tyranny and monarchy as to find 
 it very difficult to separate them. It may, therefore, 
 be requisite to give the head of such a constitution 
 as I propose some title apparently more moderate ; 
 but, if all other things were once adjusted, I believe 
 strong arguments might be produced for admitting 
 the title of king, which, I conceive, would be attended 
 with some material advantages.' 
 
 " You shudder, my Brutus, but compose yourself 
 and listen to the magnificent answer of tempted am 
 bition : ' With a mixture of great sorrow and aston 
 ishment,' says Washington to Colonel Lewis Nicola, 
 ' I have read with attention the sentiments you have 
 submitted to my perusal. Be assured, Sir, no occur 
 rence in the course of the war has given me more 
 painful sensations than your information of there
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T, 
 
 75 
 
 being sjch ideas existing in the army as you have 
 expressed, and which I must view with abhorrence, 
 and reprehend with severity. For the present, the 
 communication of them will rest in my bosom, unless 
 some further agitation of the matter shall make a dis 
 closure necessary. I am much at a loss to conceive 
 what part of my conduct could have given encour 
 agement to an address which, to me, seems big with 
 the greatest mischief that could befall my country. 
 If I am not deceived in the knowledge of myself, 
 you could not have found a person to whom your 
 schemes are more disagreeable. At the same time, 
 in justice to my own feelings, I must add, that no 
 man possesses a more sincere wish to see ample jus 
 tice done to the army than I do ; and as far as my 
 powers and influence, in a constitutional way, extend, 
 they shall be employed to the utmost of my abilities 
 to effect it, should there be any occasion. Let me 
 conjure you, then, if you have any regard for your 
 country, concern for yourself, or posterity, or respect 
 for me, to banish these thoughts from your mind, and 
 never communicate, as from yourself or any one else, 
 a sentiment of the like nature.' 
 
 " You will no doubt, my dear Lakanal, on reading 
 these lines, shout with enthusiasm, but patience 
 patience. Who knows what may yet turn up ? " 
 
 On the 2d of August, 1782, Sir Guy Carleton and 
 Admiral Digby wrote a joint letter to Washington, 
 informing him that they knew officially that there had 
 already commenced at Paris negotiations for a general 
 peace, which would secure the independence of the 
 United States. But these assurances found Wash 
 ington very wary and distrustful. In one of his let 
 ters he says : " From the former infatuation, duplicity,
 
 76 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 and perverse system of British policy, I confess I am 
 induced to doubt everything, to suspect everything. 
 Whatever the real intention of the enemy may be, I 
 think that the strictest attention and exertion which 
 have ever been exercised on our part, instead of being 
 diminished, ought to be increased. Jealousy and pre 
 caution at least can do no harm. Too much confi 
 dence and supineness may be pernicious in the ex 
 treme." Under these impressions he wrote to Count 
 de Rochambeau, advising him to march his troops to 
 the banks of the Hudson and form a junction with 
 the American army. That junction took place about 
 the middle of September. The French army en 
 camped on the left of the American, about two miles 
 from Verplanck's Point. The greatest good-will and 
 harmony continued to prevail between the allied 
 forces, but the Americans, in the raggedness of their 
 condition, had but scanty means to be hospitable to 
 their transatlantic friends. " Only conceive," wrote 
 Washington, " the mortification they must suffer, even 
 the general officers, when they can not invite a French 
 officer, a visiting friend, or a travelling acquaintance, 
 to a better repast than whisky hot from the still, and 
 not always that, and a bit of beef without vegetables, 
 will afford them." 
 
 Notwithstanding Washington's apprehensions, Con 
 gress acted as if they were already sure of peace, and 
 a contemplated reduction of the army was proposed 
 to take place on the ist of January, 1783. Washing 
 ton expressed warmly his feelings on that subject : 
 " While I premise that no one I have seen or heard 
 appears opposed to the principle of reducing the 
 army as circumstances may require, yet I can not help 
 fearing the result of the measure in contemplation,
 
 A USER T D USA YE T. 
 
 77 
 
 under present circumstances, when I see a number of 
 men, goaded by a thousand stings of reflection on the 
 past, and of anticipation^ on the future, about to be 
 turned into the world, soured by penury and what 
 they call the ingratitude of the public, involved in 
 debts, without one farthing of money to carry them 
 home, after having spent the flower of their days, 
 and many of them their patrimonies, in establishing 
 the freedom and independence of their country, and 
 suffering everything that human nature is capable of 
 enduring on this side of death. I repeat it, that when 
 I consider these irritating circumstances, without one 
 thing to soothe their feelings, or dispel their gloomy 
 prospects, I can not avoid apprehending that a train 
 of evils will follow, of a very serious and distressing 
 nature. I wish not to heighten the shades of the 
 picture so far as the reality would justify me in doing 
 it. I could give anecdotes of patriotism and distress, 
 which have scarcely ever been paralleled, never sur 
 passed, in the history of mankind. But you may 
 rely upon it, the patience and long-suffering of this 
 army are almost exhausted, and there never was so 
 great a spirit of discontent as at this instant. While 
 in the field, I think it may be kept from breaking into 
 acts of mutiny ; but when we retire into winter quar 
 ters, unless the storm is previously dissipated, I can 
 not be at ease respecting the consequences. It is 
 high time for a peace." Well might Washington feel 
 ill at ease, for he had in his pocket, whilst he penned 
 these lines, the secret letter of Colonel Lewis Nicola, 
 and he knew that it contained the expression of the 
 sentiment of the army. 
 
 Among the papers of Lakanal has been found the
 
 78 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 following communication which was addressed to him 
 in the month of March, 1783 : 
 
 DUBAYET TO LAKANAL. 
 
 " MY DEAR FRIEND : The French forces have 
 been for several months at Verplanck's Point, on the 
 Hudson river. I frequently visit the camp of the 
 American army, which is in our neighborhood, at a 
 place called Newburg, where General Washington had 
 established his headquarters for the winter, and where 
 they still remain, as the near prospect of peace pre 
 vents all military operations. I have already informed 
 you that the discontent of that army is very great. 
 The long inactivity of a winter camp has been but too 
 favorable to the fermentation of the leaven which was 
 but too ready to work. The soldiers brooded on their 
 wrongs and distresses. They had nothing else to do 
 but to discuss the neglect and injustice with which 
 they were treated, and lash themselves into anger. 
 Would the ' Resolution ' of Congress, granting half pay 
 to officers who should serve to the end of the war, be 
 carried into execution? Where would the funds be 
 procured ? Is not the treasury of the confederation 
 an empty bag which is never to be filled up ? Do not 
 the respective States show the utmost reluctance to 
 tax themselves ? Can anything more be begged suc 
 cessfully from foreign sources? According to the ar 
 ticles of confederation, is not the concurrence of nine 
 States needed for the validity of any act appropriat 
 ing public money, and is it not known that such a 
 concurrence has never been given ? Will it ever be 
 obtained? Should scanty funds be collected with 
 laborious effort, will it not be said that there are more 
 pressing and imperious exigencies than our claim ? Do
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. fg 
 
 we not know that that claim, just and sacred as it is, 
 stinks in the jealous nostrils of an ungrateful peo 
 ple ? Who will care for us when we shall no longer be 
 wanted ? Shall we not be treated as drones who have 
 no right to be fed at the public expense ? Are not 
 republics famous for their short memory of services 
 rendered ? Such were the questions which they put 
 to themselves, and the more frequently they were 
 asked, the higher rose the heat of their resentment. 
 At last, Colonel John Armstrong, a young man of 
 distinguished abilities, who is aide-de-camp to General 
 Gates, and who, I am sure, will in the course of time 
 rise to great eminence in his country, with the ap 
 probation of his chief, and at the request of a num 
 ber of his fellow officers, applied the spur and the lash 
 to the already too much goaded spirit of discontent, 
 by causing to be circulated in the camp the following 
 anonymous address, calling a meeting of the generals 
 and other officers on the next day at eleven o'clock, 
 to consider what means should be employed to obtain 
 that redress of grievances which they had prayed for 
 in vain : 
 
 "'After a pursuit of seven long years/ said the 
 writer, ' the object for which we set out is at length 
 within your reach. Yes, my friends, that suffering 
 courage of yours was active once ; it has conducted 
 the United States of America through a doubtful and 
 bloody war ; it has placed her in the chair of inde 
 pendency ; and peace returns to bless whom ? A 
 country willing to redress your wrongs, cherish your 
 worth, and reward your services ? A country courting 
 your return to private life, with tears of gratitude and 
 smiles of admiration, longing to divide with you that 
 independency which your gallantry has given, and
 
 8o A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 those riches which your wounds have preserved ? Is 
 this the case? Or is it rather a country that tramples 
 upon your rights, disdains your cries, and insults your 
 distress? Have you not more than once suggested 
 your wishes and made known your wants to Congress 
 wants and wishes which gratitude and policy should 
 have anticipated, rather than evaded ? And have you 
 not lately, in the meek language of entreating memo 
 rials, begged from their justice what you could no 
 longer expect from their favor ? How have you been 
 answered ? 
 
 " ' If this, then, be your treatment while the swords 
 you wear are necessary for the defense of America, 
 what have you to expect from peace, when your voice 
 shall sink, and your strength dissipate by division ; 
 when those very swords, the instruments and com 
 panions of your glory, shall be taken from your sides, 
 and no remaining mark of military distinction left but 
 your wants, infirmities, and scars? Can you then 
 consent to be the only sufferers by the revolution, 
 and, retiring from the field, grow old in poverty, 
 wretchedness, and contempt ? Can you consent to 
 wade through the vile mire of dependency, and owe 
 the miserable remnant of that life to charity, which 
 has hitherto been spent in honor? If you can, go, 
 and carry with you the jest of Tories and the scorn 
 of Whigs, the ridicule, and, what is worse, the pity of 
 the world. Go, starve, and be forgotten. But if your 
 spirits should revolt at this ; if you have sense enough 
 and spirit sufficient to oppose tyranny, under whatever 
 garb it may assume, whether it be the plain coat of 
 republicanism, or the splendid robe of royalty ; if you 
 have yet learned to discriminate between a people 
 and a cause, between men and principles ; awake, at-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. g I 
 
 tend to your situation, and redress yourselves ! If the 
 present moment be lost, every future effort is in vain ; 
 and your threats then will be as empty as your en 
 treaties now. 
 
 " ' I would advise you, therefore, to come to some final 
 opinion upon what you can bear, and what you will 
 suffer. If your determination be in any proportion to 
 your wrongs, carry your appeal from the justice to 
 the fears of government. Change the milk-and-water 
 style of your last memorial. Assume a bolder tone, 
 decent, but lively, spirited, and determined; and sus 
 pect the man who would advise to more moderation 
 and longer forbearance. Let two or three men, who 
 can feel as well as write, be appointed to draw up 
 your last remonstrance, for I would no longer give it 
 the suing, soft, and unsuccessful epithet of memorial. 
 Let it represent, in language that will neither dishonor 
 you by its rudeness, nor betray you by its fears, what 
 has been promised by Congress, and what has been 
 performed ; how long and patiently you have suffered ; 
 how little you have asked, and how much of that little 
 has been denied. Tell them that, though you were the 
 first, and would wish to be the last, to encounter danger, 
 though despair itself can never drive you into dis 
 honor, it may drive you from the field ; that the 
 wound, often irritated and never healed, may at 
 last become incurable ; and that the slightest mark of 
 indignity from Congress now must operate like the 
 grave and part you forever ; that in any political 
 event, the army has its alternative ; if peace, that 
 nothing .shall separate you from your arms but death ; 
 if war, t.iat, courting the auspices and inviting the 
 direction of your illustrious leader, you will retire to 
 some unsettled country, smile in your turn, and 
 4*
 
 82 A UBER T D UBA YET. 
 
 " mock when their fear cometh on." But let it repre 
 sent also, that, should they comply with the request 
 of your late memorial, it would make you more happy 
 and them more respectable ; that while war should 
 continue, you would follow their standard into the 
 field : and when it came to an end, you would with 
 draw into the shade of private life, and give the world 
 another subject of wonder and applause an army 
 victorious over its enemies, victorious over itself.' 
 
 " Surely this was bold and eloquent, my dear 
 Lakanal, but it was dangerous; it meant mischief; it 
 meant more than it said, and it produced the effect 
 which was expected. The agitation in the camp be 
 came so intense, that Washington had to notice it. 
 He immediately issued general orders, in which he 
 reprobated as disorderly and seditious the anonymous 
 publication, and expressed his confidence that the 
 good sense of the people would prevent them from 
 paying attention to such an irregular invitation. He 
 went further; for, in order to counteract its effects, 
 which appeared to him exceedingly alarming, he re 
 quested that a meeting, fixed for the loth of March, 
 should not take place, and convened another for the 
 1 5th, which delay would afford sufficient time to the 
 committee they had deputed to Congress to make 
 their report. But, the next morning, there appeared 
 another anonymous publication, subsequently dis 
 covered to be, like the first, by Colonel Armstrong, 
 the aide-de-camp of General Gates. With insidious 
 dexterity, it maintained that the step taken by Gen 
 eral Washington was an approbation of the course 
 which the army had to pursue. ' That step,' said the 
 author, 'authorizes your meetings for redress, and 
 there is no doubt that our leader's private opinion
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 83 
 
 sanctifies our claims. Had he disliked the object in 
 view, would not the same sense of duty which forbade 
 your meeting on the third day of the week, have for 
 bidden you from meeting on the seventh? Is not the 
 same subject held up to your view? And has it not 
 passed the seal of office, and taken all the solemnity 
 of an order? This will give system to your proceed 
 ings and stability to your resolves.' 
 
 " Enough for the present, my dear Lakanal. This 
 is the first act of the drama. It promises to be inter 
 esting, as you see. You may rest assured of my keep 
 ing you posted as to what is to follow."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DISBANDING OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ARMY SUB 
 LIMITY OF THE MORAL CHARACTER OF WASH 
 INGTON. 
 
 " I WILL not attempt," wrote Dubayet to Lakanal 
 a few days after, " to describe to you the intense 
 interest with which I watched the results of the pro 
 ceedings related to you in my last letter. On the eve 
 of the 1 5th, Washington, who, from the reports which 
 had reached his ears, had serious misgivings as to the 
 turn which the meeting would take, sent for the offi 
 cers, one by one, in private, made a pathetic appeal 
 to their patriotism, and represented to them in the 
 most forcible language what would be the loss of 
 character to the army, should they, in the meeting of 
 the next day, adopt intemperate resolutions. When 
 they assembled on that day, General Gates was called 
 to the chair. Washington had spent a sleepless night, 
 and so keen had become his inquietude, notwith 
 standing, and perhaps because of, the personal inter 
 view which he had held with every officer, and in 
 which he had had the opportunity of probing the 
 condition of their minds and the excitement of their 
 feelings, that he resolved to attend the meeting, and 
 made his appearance there, to the astonishment of 
 all. He apologized for it, and said that such had not 
 been his original intention when he had convoked the 
 (84)
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 85 
 
 assemblage. But, as his sentiments had been misrep 
 resented or misconstrued in anonymous writings, he 
 had, after due reflection, come to the conclusion that 
 it was proper that he should make his views clear to 
 the army. Therefore, with the indulgence of his 
 brother officers, he would take the liberty of reading 
 to them the thoughts which he had committed to 
 writing : * If my conduct heretofore/ he said, ' has not 
 convinced you that I have been a faithful friend to 
 the army, my declaration of it at this time would be 
 equally unavailing and improper.' 
 
 " He stopped after reading this first paragraph, 
 made a short pause, looked round the audience with 
 grave benignity, drew out his spectacles, and begged 
 to be excused whilst he took time to put them on. 
 ' My eyes have become dim,' he observed ; ' I have 
 grown gray in the service of our country, and now I 
 find myself growing blind.' No studied burst of ora 
 tory ever produced, my dear Lakanal, the effect of a 
 remark so natural, so unaffected, and so inexpressibly 
 touching by the quiet manner in which it was deliv 
 ered. Every eye became moist, every heart palpi 
 tated, and mine, for I had the good fortune to wit 
 ness this scene, beat so loud that I fancied I could 
 almost hear its throbs. Washington thus resumed 
 his discourse: 'As I was among the first who em 
 barked in the cause of our common country; as I 
 have never left your side one moment, but when 
 called from you on public duty ; as I have been the 
 constant companion and witness of your distresses, 
 and not among the last to feel and acknowledge your 
 merits , as I have ever considered my own military 
 reputation as inseparably connected with that of the 
 army ; as my heart has ever expanded with joy when
 
 86 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 I have heard its praises, and my indignation has arisen 
 when the mouth of detraction has been opened against 
 it, it can not be supposed at this last stage of the war 
 that I am indifferent to its interests.' Here a deep 
 sensation thrilled through the audience and found its 
 vent in loud and prolonged cheers. Washington 
 waved his hand, and silence was re-established. 'As 
 to myself,' continued he, ' a recollection of the cheer 
 ful assistance and prompt obedience I have experi 
 enced from you under every vicissitude of fortune, 
 and the sincere affection I feel for an army I have so 
 long had the honor to command, will oblige me to 
 declare, in this public and solemn manner, that for 
 the attainment of complete justice for all your toils 
 and dangers, and the gratification of every wish, so 
 far as may be done consistently with the great duty I 
 owe my country and those powers we are bound to 
 respect, you may fully command my services to the 
 utmost extent of my abilities.' There was another 
 burst of applause, interrupted by a deprecatory gest 
 ure of the general. 
 
 " ' While I give you these assurances,' he said, ' and 
 pledge myself in the most unequivocal manner to ex 
 ert whatever abilities I am possessed of in your favor, 
 let me entreat you, gentlemen, on your part, not to 
 take any measures which, viewed in the calm light of 
 reason, will lessen the dignity and sully the glory you 
 have hitherto maintained ; let me request you to rely 
 on the plighted faith of your country, and place a full 
 confidence in the purity of the intentions of Congress.' 
 He went on assuring them that it was his conviction 
 that complete justice would ultimately be done to 
 them by that body. ' But, at the same time, let me 
 conjure you,' he added, ' in the name of our common
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. g/ 
 
 country, as you value your own sacred honor, as you 
 respect the rights of humanity, as you regard the mil 
 itary and national honor of America, to express your 
 utmost horror and detestation of the man who wishes, 
 under any specious pretences, to overturn the liber 
 ties of our country, and who wickedly attempts to 
 open the flood-gates of civil discord and deluge our 
 rising empire in blood. By thus determining, and 
 thus acting, you will pursue the plain and direct road 
 to the attainment of your wishes; you will defeat the 
 insidious designs of our enemies, who are compelled 
 to resort from open force to secret artifice ; you will 
 give one more distinguished proof of unexampled 
 patriotism and patient virtue, rising superior to the 
 pressure of the most complicated sufferings ; and you 
 will, by the dignity of your conduct, afford occasion 
 for posterity to say, when speaking of the glorious 
 example you have exhibited to mankind : had this 
 day been wanting, the world had never seen the last 
 stage of perfection to which human nature is capable 
 of attaining.' 
 
 " Now the general produced a letter which he had 
 received from one of the most influential members of 
 Congress, who assured him that, in spite of all diffi 
 culties and embarrassments, that body would, at all 
 events, deal generously with the army. It was evi 
 dent to me, my dear Lakanal, that this magnificent 
 address had produced a revolution in the breasts of 
 the audience, and that there would be no opposition 
 to the wishes of the man whom they loved and ven 
 erated so much. The object of that love and vener 
 ation must also have been aware of the change he had 
 operated, for, bowing kindly to his brother officers, he 
 withdrew leaving them to their deliberations. As he
 
 88 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 disappeared, I could not but exclaim : How sublime ! 
 As I spoke these words, a hand pressed my arm, and 
 a sneering voice whispered in my ear, ' Sublime! aye 
 a sublime simpleton in not availing himself of this 
 golden opportunity, and in believing in the duration 
 of institutions founded on that most mischievous of 
 all lies which proclaims that all men are born free 
 and equal.' I turned round and looked with astonish 
 ment at the speaker, who bowed slightly to me and 
 departed. It was Colonel Aaron Burr, a man of iron 
 nerves, wonderful abilities, indefatigable industry, re 
 morseless and unprincipled ambition, whom I have 
 met several times. If I have read him well, my good 
 friend, let the new republic beware of him. 
 
 "After General Washington had retired, the warm 
 hearted Knox presented ' Resolutions,' seconded by 
 the rough and blunt General Putnam, which were in 
 conformity with the wishes of the commander-in-chief, 
 and were unanimously adopted. One of those ' Resolu 
 tions ' requested him to write to the President of Con 
 gress, and to earnestly entreat a speedy decision on 
 the late address forwarded by a committee of the 
 army. In conformity to that request, Washington 
 thus addressed that high functionary : 
 
 " ' The result of the proceedings of the grand con 
 vention of officers, which I have the honor of enclos 
 ing to your excellency for the inspection of Congress, 
 will, I flatter myself, be considered as the last glorious 
 proof of patriotism which could have been given by 
 men who aspired to the distinction of a patriot army, 
 and will not only confirm their claim to the justice, 
 but will increase their title to the gratitude, of their 
 country. Having seen the proceedings on the part 
 of the army terminate with perfect unanimity, and in
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 89 
 
 a manner certainly consonant to my wishes ; being 
 impressed with the liveliest sentiments of affection 
 for those who have so long, so patiently, and so cheer 
 fully suffered and fought under my immediate direc 
 tion ; having, from motives of justice, duty, and grat 
 itude, spontaneously offered myself as an advocate for 
 their rights ; and having been requested to write to 
 your excellency, earnestly entreating the most speedy 
 decision of Congress upon the subjects of the late ad 
 dress from the army to that honorable body ; it only 
 remains for me to perform the task I have assumed, 
 and to intercede in their behalf, as I now do, that the 
 sovereign power will be pleased to verify the predic 
 tions I have pronounced, and the confidence the army 
 has reposed in the justice of their country. 
 
 " ' If, besides the simple payment of their wages, a 
 further compensation is not due to the sufferings and 
 sacrifices of the officers, then have I been mistaken 
 indeed. If the whole army have not merited what 
 ever a grateful people can bestow, then have I been 
 beguiled by prejudice, and built opinion on the basis 
 of error. If this country should not, in the end, per 
 form everything which has been requested in the late 
 memorial to Congress, then will my belief become 
 vain, and the hope that has been excited void of foun 
 dation. And if, as has been suggested for the pur 
 pose of inflaming their passions, the officers of the army 
 are to be the only sufferers by the revolution ; if, retiring 
 from the field, they are to grow old in poverty, wretched 
 ness, and contempt ; if they are to wade through the 
 vile mire of dependency, and owe the miserable rem 
 nant of that life to charity, which has hitherto been spent 
 in honor, then shall I have learned what ingratitude 
 is, then shall I have realized a tale which will embit-
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 ter every moment of my future life. But I am under 
 no such apprehensions. A country, rescued by their 
 arms from impending ruin, will never leave unpaid 
 the debt of gratitude.' 
 
 " Do not believe, my dear Lakanal, that there was 
 not in these incidents a great danger to the republi 
 can institutions to be established. As a proof of the 
 temper of the army, let me tell you that, lately, 
 about three hundred soldiers of the Pennsylvania 
 line, with beat of drum and fixed bayonets, marched 
 to the State House where Congress and the Supreme 
 Executive Council were in session ; that placing sen 
 tinels at every door to prevent egress, they next sent 
 in a written message to the President and Council, 
 threatening military violence if their demands were 
 not complied with in twenty minutes. Outraged at 
 being thus surrounded and blockaded for several 
 hours by an armed soldiery, Congress adjourned to 
 meet again within a few days at Princeton, in New Jer 
 sey, and in the meantime sent information to Wash 
 ington of this mutinous outbreak, which was soon 
 quelled by him. You see, my dear friend, that armies 
 are the same everywhere, in every age, and in every 
 country. An army will never hesitate between their 
 leader and a legislative body, be it called Parliament, 
 Senate, or Congress. But this Washington is a hero 
 of Plutarch, or rather far above all those great men 
 whose memories have been handed down, embalmed 
 in the immortal pages of the Greek author. But will 
 there ever be another Washington ? And should an 
 American army again offer the crown to their chief, 
 will it be refused ? " 
 
 At last Washington was informed, in the spring of 
 1783, that a general treaty of peace had been signed
 
 A USER T D UBA YET. gi 
 
 in Paris on the 2Oth of January, and that the inde 
 pendence of the United States had been secured. 
 On that solemn occasion, that great man, great be 
 yond all other men, thus addressed the governors of 
 the different States : " We are the sole lords and pro 
 prietors of a vast tract of continent, comprehending 
 all the various soils and climates of the world, and 
 abounding with all the necessaries and conveniences 
 of life ; and the acknowledged possessors of absolute 
 freedom and independency. This is the time of our 
 political probation ; this is the moment when the 
 eyes of the world are turned upon us ; this is the mo 
 ment to establish or ruin our national character for 
 ever. This is the favorable moment to give such a 
 tone to the Federal Government as will enable it to 
 answer the ends of its institution ; or this may be the 
 moment for relaxing the powers of the Union, anni 
 hilating the cement of the confederation, and expos 
 ing us to become the sport of European politics, 
 which may play one State against another, to prevent 
 their growing importance, and to serve their own in 
 terested purposes." 
 
 On the disbanding of the army, which soon follow 
 ed the conclusion of the treaty of peace, Washington 
 issued a proclamation, which was a farewell address to 
 his beloved and w r ell-tried companions in arms. It 
 was truly antique in its grand simplicity. " May 
 ample justice," he said, "be done to you, and may 
 the choicest of Heaven's favors, both here and here 
 after, attend those who, under the divine auspices, 
 have secured innumerable blessings for others. With 
 these wishes and this benediction, your commander- 
 in-chief is about to retire from service. The curtain 
 of separation will soon be drawn, and the military 
 scene to him will be closed forever."
 
 92 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Captain Aubcrt Dubayet witnessed with intense 
 interest all the events which terminated the American 
 revolution, and thus delineated some of the most im 
 pressive : 
 
 DUBAYET TO LAKANAL. 
 
 " I was present at a most affecting scene the dis 
 banding of the American army. No description of 
 mine can give you an adequate idea of the painful 
 circumstances under which it took place. Only fancy 
 both officers and soldiers, obedient to the advice of 
 their idolized commander-in-chief, and soothed per 
 haps by, but certainly not relying on, the empty ' Re 
 solves ' of Congress to pay and compensate them in 
 such manner as the ability of the United States 
 would permit, nobly consenting, although long unac 
 customed to the affairs of private life, to be turned 
 loose on the world to starve, and to become the prey 
 to vulture speculators. Never can that melancholy 
 day be forgotten by me a foreigner though I am 
 when I saw friends, companions for seven long years 
 in joy and in sorrow, torn asunder without the hope 
 of meeting again and with only the terrible prospect 
 of a miserable existence in the future. And they had 
 arms in their hands, and they were masters of the 
 situation ! But they had a Washington to deal with, 
 and they were conquered by his moral sublimity ! 
 
 " It has also been my good fortune, my dear Lak- 
 anal, to witness how that august personage closed his 
 military career and resigned into the hands of Con 
 gress the almost dictatorial authority with which he 
 had been clothed. On the 2Oth of December, he had 
 written to the President of that body, requesting to 
 know in what manner it would be most proper for 
 him to offer his resignation. ' In a solemn audience
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 93 
 
 worthy of the occasion/ was the reply, and the 23d 
 of that month was selected for that purpose. At 
 twelve o'clock, on that day, every inch of the floor of 
 the hall of Congress which could be spared by the 
 members, and the surrounding galleries ordinarily oc 
 cupied by the public, were invaded by an eager crowd 
 of ladies, by Federal and State functionaries, and 
 other distinguished men. I remarked that the mem 
 bers of Congress were seated and had their hats on, 
 when all the spectators stood up and were uncovered. 
 On my inquiring for the reason of it, I was told that 
 it was because they represented the sovereignty of 
 the Union. 
 
 " Washington entered, and I assure you that there 
 was in him a more commanding majesty than I can 
 suppose to exist in any royal face. He was conducted 
 by the Secretary of Congress, and took his seat in a 
 chair appointed for him. After a brief pause, during 
 which the whole assembly seemed to be awed into 
 the deepest silence and the most breathless emotion, 
 the President said : ' General, the United States, in 
 Congress assembled, are prepared to receive your 
 communication.' 
 
 " Washington rose, and, with an imposing dignity 
 of which it is impossible to give you any idea, re 
 viewed briefly the great events which had taken place, 
 congratulated Congress and the country on their suc 
 cessful issue, offered his thanks for the assistance 
 which had been so patriotically given him by all those 
 who had co-operated with him in the execution of 
 the trust committed to his hands, and concluded in 
 these words: 'I consider it an indispensable duty to 
 close this last solemn act of my official life, by com 
 mending the interests of our dearest country to the
 
 94 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 protection of Almighty God ; and those who have 
 the superintendence of them, to His holy keeping. 
 Having now finished the work assigned to me, I re 
 tire from the great theatre of action ; and, bidding an 
 affectionate farewell to this august body, under whose 
 orders I have long acted, I here offer my commission, 
 and take my leave of all the employments of public 
 life.' 
 
 " The whole assembly was melted into tears, my 
 dear Lakanal, and it was with a voice almost choked 
 with emotion, that the President, after having receiv 
 ed the tendered commission, attempted to bear testi 
 mony, in adequate terms, to the invaluable services 
 of that illustrious man. He closed his address in 
 these words : ' You retire, General, from the theatre 
 of action with the blessings of your fellow-citizens ; 
 but the glory of your virtues will not terminate with 
 your military command ; it will continue to animate 
 the remotest ages.' 
 
 " Washington arrived at Mount Vernon on Christ 
 mas eve, where he was welcomed to his cherished 
 home with bonfires and the warm greetings of his 
 friends and neighbors. Shortly after, he wrote to the 
 Governor of New York : ' The scene is at last closed ; 
 I feel myself eased of a load of public care. I hope 
 to spend the remainder of my days in cultivating the 
 affections of good men, and in the practice of the 
 domestic virtues.' "
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WASHINGTON AT MOUNT VERNON AUBERT DU- 
 BAYET BECOMES HIS GUEST. 
 
 WHEN the French forces were recalled after the 
 conclusion of peace, Aubert Dubayet obtained a fur 
 lough from his Government. His object was to so 
 journ some time in America, to see what use the for 
 mer colonies of Great Britain would make of their 
 independence, and also to sell his property in Louis-, 
 iana, with a view of settling forever in France, the 
 country of his ancestors. He was on a visit to Gen 
 eral Knox, when the latter received and showed to 
 him an interesting letter from General Washington 
 written from Mount Vernon, and from which he was 
 permitted to take the following extract : " Strange as 
 it may seem," wrote the liberator of his country to 
 his companion-in-arms, " it is nevertheless true that 
 it was not until very lately I could get the better of 
 my usual custom of ruminating, as soon as I waked in 
 the morning, on the business of the ensuing day ; and 
 of my surprise at finding, after revolving many things 
 in my mind, that I was no longer a public man, nor 
 had anything to do with public transactions. I feel 
 now, however, as I conceive a weary traveler must 
 do, who, after treading many a weary step with a 
 heavy burthen on his shoulders, is eased of the latter, 
 having reached the haven to which all the former 
 were directed, and from his house-top is looking back 
 
 (95)
 
 9 6 
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 and tracing with an eager eye the meanders by which 
 he escaped the quicksands and mires which lay in his 
 way, and into which none but the all-powerful Guide 
 and Dispenser of human events could have prevented 
 his falling." 
 
 At about the same time Lafayette received from 
 the same source a letter which fully harmonized with 
 the above expressed sentiments : " Free from the 
 bustle of camp and the busy scenes of public life," wrote 
 Washington, " I am solacing myself with those tran 
 quil enjoyments of which the soldier, who is ever in the 
 pursuit of fame the statesman, whose watchful days 
 and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to 
 promote the welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of 
 other countries, as if the globe was insufficient for us 
 all and the courtier, who is always watching the 
 countenance of his prince can have very little con 
 ception. I have not only retired from all public em 
 ployments, but I am retiring within myself, and shall 
 be able to view the solitary walk, and to tread the 
 paths of private life with heartfelt satisfaction. En 
 vious of none, I am determined to be pleased with 
 all ; and this, my dear friend, being the order of my 
 march, I will move gently down the stream of life un 
 til I sleep with my fathers." 
 
 In July, 1785, Aubert Dubayet wrote to Tintin 
 Calandro : " My dear friend, although a republican is 
 as hateful to you as water is to a mad dog, there is 
 one in whom you can not but take an interest, be 
 cause he is an honor to the human race, and it is of 
 him, therefore, that I shall speak to you on the pres 
 ent occasion. Of course, you understand me to mean 
 General Washington, without my naming him. I 
 have the supreme honor of being a guest at his
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 97 
 
 house on the strength of a letter given to me by 
 General Knox. In the simple undress of private life 
 he appears to me more admirable than when clothed 
 in the purple mantle of the dictator. To-day he said 
 to me : ' The more I am acquainted with agricultural 
 affairs, the better I am pleased with them, in so much 
 that I can nowhere find so much satisfaction as in 
 those innocent and useful pursuits. While indulging 
 these feelings I am led to reflect how much more de 
 lightful to an undebauched mind is the task of mak 
 ing improvements on the earth, than all the vainglory 
 that can be acquired by ravaging it by the most un 
 interrupted career of conquest. How pitiful, in the 
 age of reason and religion, is that false ambition 
 which desolates the world with fire and sword for 
 the purpose of conquest and fame, compared to the 
 milder virtues of making our neighbors and our fel 
 low-men as happy as their frail convictions and per 
 ishable natures will permit them to be ! ' I rode with 
 him several times over his different farms, which ex 
 tend over an area of four thousand acres. He seems 
 to think of nothing but improving his grounds. 
 Now he talks of curious and exotic plants which 
 have been promised to him, now of grape-vines 
 which he expects from France but of public affairs, 
 not a word. He keeps a minute diary of what he 
 does as a farmer. In the spring of the year he was 
 diligently employed in preparations to improve his 
 groves and shrubbery; on the loth of January, he 
 noted that the white thorn was full in berry ; on the 
 2Oth, he began to clear the undergrowth of his pine 
 forest ; in February he transplanted ivy under the 
 walls of the garden ; in March he was planting hem 
 lock trees a beautiful species of American ever- 
 5
 
 98 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 green ; in April he was sowing holly berries in drills. 
 He called my attention to the fact, that, of all the 
 trees fitted for shade in pasture-land, the locust, ma 
 ple, black mulberry, black walnut, black gum, dog 
 wood, and sassafras were those which, according to 
 his observation, did not materially injure the grass 
 beneath them. He delights in ornamental cultiva 
 tion ; he rides long distances in quest of young elms, 
 ash-trees, white thorn, crab-apples, willows, and lilacs ; 
 he lays out winding paths and plants trees and shrubs 
 along them. Now he sows acorns and buckeye-nuts 
 selected by himself with peculiar care ; now he opens 
 vistas through the pine groves ; and now he twines 
 round the columns of his mansion scarlet honey 
 suckles. I really think he takes more interest in con 
 versing with his gardener than with anybody else. 
 
 " The world will hardly believe, my dear Tintin 
 Calandro, that the life of General Washington is a 
 sort of a Virgilian idyl, in which blooded horses, cat 
 tle, sheep, bees, and the like rural things perform a 
 conspicuous part. The other day he stopped before 
 a group of young horse-chestnuts, gazed at them with 
 a kindling eye, and said to me with an unusual de 
 gree of animation : ' Look at these trees, my young 
 friend ; they make me young too, for they are from 
 Westmoreland, my native county, and the haunt of 
 my school-boy days. They were sent to me by Col 
 onel Lee he whom we call, as you know, Light- 
 Horse Harry' He has retained his passion for hunt 
 ing, and talks much of stocking his grounds with En 
 glish deer. Yesterday, having accompanied him in 
 one of his walks, we came upon two of his negroes 
 who were struggling very hard and unsuccessfully to 
 remove a large log of wood which was in the way.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. og 
 
 Washington took off his coat, and, using his shoul 
 ders, helped them to accomplish their task. I assure 
 you, my dear friend, that he appeared to me on that 
 occasion more grand than Louis XIV. would at Ver 
 sailles with all his peacock court at his heels. Don't 
 threaten to eat me up in your anger, I beg you ! 
 
 " Now that you have, as I suppose, curbed the rising 
 indignation of your loyalty, I will reward you for your 
 forbearance by giving you further details on the pri 
 vate life of that illustrious personage. It is in human 
 nature to delight in being informed how the immor 
 tals sneeze, or cough. Know, then, that the active life 
 of Washington begins before dawn. Much of his cor 
 respondence, which is enormous, is dispatched before 
 breakfast, which takes place at half-past seven. After 
 breakfast he mounts his horse, which always stands 
 ready at the door, and rides out to different parts of 
 his estate, as he used to do to the various parts of the 
 camp, to see that all was right at the outposts, and 
 every one at his duty. At half-past two he dines, and 
 there is a social gathering in the evening at tea, which 
 is a sort of supper. If there is no company, he writes 
 until dark, or, if pressed by business, until nine o'clock ; 
 otherwise, he amuses himself with a game of whist, or 
 reads chiefly books on farming and gardening. One 
 of General Washington's guests at present is a Mr. 
 Elkanah Watson, a very intelligent gentleman, who 
 brought letters of introduction from General Greene 
 and Colonel Fitzgerald. This evening he was in my 
 room, and read to me a home picture of Washington 
 in his retirement. It is so graphic and so true that I 
 transcribe a part of it for your benefit : ' 
 
 " ' I trembled with awe,' he said, ' as I came into the 
 presence of this great man. I found him at table with
 
 100 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 Mrs. Washington and his private family, and was re 
 ceived with the native dignity and with the urbanity 
 so peculiarly combined in the character of a soldier 
 and an eminent private gentleman. He soon put me 
 at my ease, by unbending in a free and affable con 
 versation. The cautious reserve which wisdom and 
 policy dictated, whilst engaged in rearing the glorious 
 fabric of our independence, was evidently the result 
 of consummate prudence, and not characteristic of his 
 nature. I observed a peculiarity in his smile, which 
 seemed to illuminate his eye ; his whole countenance 
 beamed with intelligence, while it commanded confi 
 dence and respect. 
 
 "'I found him calm and benignant in the domestic 
 circle; revered r.nd beloved by all around him ; agree 
 ably social without ostentation ; delighting in anec 
 dotes and adventures; without assumption; his do 
 mestic arrangements harmonious and systematic. His 
 servants seemed to watch his eye, and to anticipate 
 his very wish ; hence a look was equivalent to a com 
 mand. His servant Billy, the faithful companion of 
 his military career, was always at his side. Smiling 
 content animated and beamed on every countenance 
 in his presence. 
 
 "'In the evening I sat conversing for a full hour 
 with him after all the family had retired, expecting to 
 hear him fight over some of his battles ; but I was 
 disappointed, for he modestly waived all allusions to 
 the events in which he had acted so glorious and con 
 spicuous a part. Much of his conversation had refer 
 ence to the interior country, and to the opening of the 
 navigation of the Potomac by canals and locks, at the 
 Seneca, the Great and Little Falls. His mind seemed 
 to be deeply absorbed by that object, then in earnest 
 contemplation.
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. IO i 
 
 "'I had taken a severe cold in the course of my 
 journey, and coughed excessively. The general pressed 
 me to take some remedies, but I declined. After re 
 tiring for the night, my coughing increased. When 
 some time had elapsed, the door of my room was gently 
 opened ; and, on drawing my bed curtains, I beheld 
 Washington himself standing at my bedside with a 
 bowl of hot tea in his hand. I was mortified and dis 
 tressed beyond expression. This little incident, occur 
 ring in common life with an ordinary man, would not 
 have been noticed ; but, as a trait of the benevolence 
 and private virtue of Washington, deserves to be re 
 corded.' 
 
 " Having become, my good Tintin, acquainted with 
 a learned bishop, who has lately passed through Mount 
 Vernon, and who has long known General Washing 
 ton, I expressed to him how much I was struck with 
 the unassuming manners of a man who filled such a 
 space in the world's eye. He replied : 'I know no one 
 who is so carefully guarded against the discoursing of 
 himself, or of his acts, or of anything that pertains to 
 him ; and it has occasionally occurred to me when in 
 his company, that if a stranger to his person were pres 
 ent, he would never have known from anything said 
 by him that he was conscious of having distinguished 
 himself.' 
 
 " Washington, like all those who have a noble nat 
 ure, and like Him who was of a divine one, is fond of 
 little children, and apt to unbend with them. He is 
 pleased to have them come to him. A charming young 
 lady, named Miss Custis, who is a member of his 
 family, has said to me : ' I have sometimes made him 
 laugh most heartily from sympathy with my joyous 
 and extravagant spirits, although he is habitually a 
 silent and thoughtful man. He speaks little, gener-
 
 ! 02 A UBET T D UBA YE T. 
 
 ally; never of himself. I never heard him relate a 
 single act of his life during the war. I have often seen 
 him perfectly abstracted, his lips moving; but no 
 sound was perceptible.' 
 
 " Hearty laughter, however, my dear Tintin Calan- 
 dro, is rare with Washington, although he is said to 
 have relaxed much of his thoughtful gravity of de 
 meanor since he has no longer to answer on the bat 
 tlefield for the fate of a nation. A few hilarious ex 
 plosions are related, precisely because they have so 
 seldom occurred. They were the result of some sud 
 den and extremely ludicrous surprises. His general 
 habit may be described as a calm seriousness easily 
 softening into a benevolent smile. There is no doubt 
 that he is generally approached and treated with rev 
 erential awe. There are exceptions, however, and I 
 will mention one. Colonel Henry Lee ' Light Horse 
 Harry' who is a privileged favorite with Washing 
 ton, and who is reported to take more liberties with 
 him than anybody else, dropped in yesterday. Wash 
 ington, at dinner, mentioned his being in want of car 
 riage horses, and asked Lee if he knew where he could 
 get a pair. 
 
 " ' I have a fine pair, general,' replied Lee, ' but you 
 can not get them.' 
 
 " ' Why not ? ' 
 
 " ' Because you will never pay more than half price 
 for anything; and I must have full price for my 
 horses.' 
 
 " This bantering reply set Mrs. Washington laugh 
 ing ; and her parrot, perched beside her, joined in the 
 laugh. The general took this familiar attack upon his 
 dignity in good part. 'Ah ! Lee, you are a funny fel 
 low,' said he ; ' see, that bird is laughing at you.'
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 1 03 
 
 "I must mention that this reverential awe which 
 his deeds and elevated position threw around this 
 great man, is reported by those familiar with his dis 
 position, to be a source of serious annoyance to him 
 in private life, especially when he perceives its effect 
 upon the young and gay. I had an instance of it last 
 evening. Mrs. Washington had invited to a private and 
 unceremonious dancing party the young men and girls 
 of the neighborhood. All were enjoying themselves 
 with the utmost glee, when Washington entered the 
 room. The moment his majestic figure was seen, the 
 buoyant mirth was checked ; the dance lost its anima 
 tion ; every face became grave ; every tongue was 
 silent. He remained for a time, endeavoring to en 
 gage in cheerful conversation with some of the young 
 people and to break the spell. When he found that 
 it was in vain, I saw an expression of sadness steal 
 over his face, and he retired to the company of the 
 elders in an adjoining room, expressing his regret that 
 his presence should operate as such a damper. After 
 a little while, light laughter and happy voices again 
 resounded from the ball-room ; upon which he rose 
 cautiously, approached on tiptoe the door, which was 
 ajar, and there stood for some time a delighted spec 
 tator of the youthful revelry. How amiable and char 
 acteristic of what there is in that big soul ! Will you 
 not love such a man, O Tintin Calandro, notwith 
 standing the strength and the eccentricity of your 
 prejudices ; and, were you here, would you not, on 
 your wondrous violin, O sublime musician, perform 
 for him with as much inspired enthusiasm as you do 
 for the princess de Lamballe and the majesties of 
 France ? 
 
 " On my expressing my intense admiration of such
 
 1 04 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 a character to Mr. Lear, his secretary, that gentleman 
 replied : ' Surely I am not astonished at your feelings, 
 for after ten years' residence in this family on the most 
 confidential footing, I must say that General Wash 
 ington is, I believe, almost the only man of an exalted 
 character, who does not lose some part of his respec 
 tability by an intimate acquaintance. I have never 
 found a single thing that could lessen my respect for 
 him. A complete knowledge of his honesty, upright 
 ness, and candor in all his private transactions, has 
 sometimes led me to think him more than a man."* 
 
 Aubert Dubayet spent a week under the roof of 
 Washington, and used, in the subsequent years of his 
 life, to speak of that circumstance as the event in it 
 which he cherished and valued the most. He said 
 that it had purified him from most of his earthly 
 dross, and that he felt it was not in vain that he had 
 been in contact with human perfection. From Mount 
 Vernon he traveled over the Thirteen States, as he 
 had determined not to return to Europe before mak 
 ing himself thoroughly acquainted with their re 
 sources, and particularly with the distinguished men 
 whom they contained, and who would probably be 
 leaders of their destinies. He visited James Warren, 
 who had formerly been President of the Provisional 
 Congress of Massachusetts. On that occasion, Au 
 bert Dubayet, having spoken of the Arcadian felicity 
 which he had observed at Mount Vernon, was greatly 
 surprised when his host said to him : " You have de- 
 
 * Those who have read W. living's admirable "Life of 
 Washington," need not be told how much I am indebted to 
 him in my delineation of the character of that illustrious per 
 sonage. Not being able to do as well, I have in more than 
 one instance borrowed his very words.
 
 A UBERT DUB A YET. 
 
 105 
 
 ceived yourself. Washington's mind is, not without 
 cause, full of anxieties. Although it has been his in 
 tention to bid farewell to public affairs, yet he can 
 not but watch with keen solicitude the working 
 together of the several parts of the great political 
 machinery to the construction of which he has so 
 powerfully contributed. Confederacies have never 
 been harmonious and long-lived, and ours is unfor 
 tunately very weak in its original constitution. We 
 have put up in haste a house to shelter us, but it is 
 ill jointed, and the timbers are cracking on all sides. 
 Washington sees it ; we all see it. The bonds which 
 kept us together under the pressure of external 
 danger, have been relaxed by the gentle hand of 
 peace. We are not a nation, but thirteen petty sov 
 ereignties which will soon quarrel like Kilkenny cats. 
 See in what condition are our finances. Our con 
 federate debts exceed forty millions of dollars, an 
 enormous one for our present resources. Congress 
 has devised a system of credit for the extinction of 
 that debt and for the current yearly expenditure of 
 the General Government. Congress might as well 
 have legislated for the moon, for it has no coercive 
 power. Some of the States have assented to those 
 provisions, but neglect to act accordingly; others 
 have rejected them. Each member of the Confeder 
 acy consults its local interests and prejudices, and 
 ignores those of the whole. The steeple of each vil 
 lage towers higher than the cupola of the national 
 capitol, whilst it should be the reverse. As to those 
 treaty stipulations on the observance of which our 
 credit abroad, our honor and our good faith must 
 rest, they are slighted, West, North, and South, ac 
 cording to the dictates of sectional interests, and 
 5*
 
 1 6 A UBER T D UflA YE T. 
 
 sometimes openly violated. The States seem to have 
 no appreciation of their collective obligations." 
 
 " O God ! " exclaimed Dubayet, " is it possible that 
 you have already come to this, and does General 
 Washington concur in this dismal view of your 
 affairs?" 
 
 The Massachusetts statesman drew from his coat 
 pocket a letter in the well-known handwriting of 
 Washington, and read to his visitor the following 
 passage : 
 
 " The Confederation appears to me to be little 
 more than a shadow without the substance, and Con 
 gress a nugatory body ; their ordinances being little 
 attended to. To me it is a solecism in politics ; in 
 deed, it is one of the most extraordinary things in 
 nature, that we should confederate as a nation, and 
 yet be afraid to give the rulers of that nation (who are 
 creatures of our own making, appointed for a limited 
 and short duration, and who are amenable for every 
 action and may be recalled at any moment, and are 
 subject to all the evils which they may be instru 
 mental in producing) sufficient powers to order and 
 direct the affairs of the same. By such policy as this 
 the wheels of government are clogged, our brightest 
 prospects blasted, and that high expectation which 
 was entertained of us by the wondering world, turned 
 into disappointment ; and from the high ground on 
 which we stood, we are descending into the vale of 
 confusion and darkness." 
 
 Aubert Dubayet was shocked and grieved to the 
 core of his soul. His rose-colored dreams were as 
 suming the dark hues of a nightmare. In a fit of 
 despondency he shut himself up in his room, and 
 thus wrote to Lakanal :
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. ! 07 
 
 " Tell me no more of revolutions and reforms, my 
 dear friend, you who, in conspiracy with the ghosts 
 of Greek and Roman patriots, are always planning 
 the overthrow of hoary institutions, to replace them 
 with your pretended improvements, born out of the 
 delusive creed of human progress and perfectibility. 
 Here has been a successful revolution, in a virgin 
 country, where there are no time-cemented obstacles 
 in the way of contemplated innovations and experi 
 ments a revolution of yesterday ; and to-day, what is 
 the result ? From the high ground upon which we stood, 
 says the hero of that revolution, we are descending 
 into the vale of confusion and darkness" and he related 
 to his friend all that had passed between James War 
 ren and himself. 
 
 From Boston Aubert Dubayet returned to New 
 York, where he learned that Washington was ear 
 nestly advocating a stronger form of government. 
 To one of the most influential men of the epoch, the 
 general had written : " I have ever been a friend to 
 adequate powers in Congress, without which it is 
 evident to me we never shall establish a national 
 character, or be considered as on a respectable foot 
 ing by the powers of Europe. We are either a united 
 people under one head and for federal purposes, or 
 we are thirteen independent sovereignties, eternally 
 counteracting each other. If the former, whatever 
 such a majority of the States as the constitution 
 points out, conceive to be for the benefit of the whole, 
 should, in my humble opinion, be submitted to by 
 the minority. I can foresee no evil greater than dis 
 union, than the unreasonable jealousies (I say unrea 
 sonable, because I would have a proper jealousy al 
 ways awake, and the United States on the watch to
 
 1 08 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 prevent individual States from infracting the consti 
 tution with impunity) which are constantly 'poisoning 
 our minds and filling them with imaginary evils for 
 the prevention of real ones." 
 
 Washington did not seem to entertain the most 
 distant apprehension of the usurpation of power by 
 the Federal Government, nor did he even seem to 
 conceive the possibility of such an event.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 REBELLIOUS INSURRECTION IN MASSACHUSETTS 
 ADOPTION OF A NEW FORM OF GOVERNMENT 
 FOR THE UNITED STATES VIEWS AND APPRE 
 HENSIONS OF STATESMEN ON THE SUBJECT 
 DUBAYET RETURNS TO FRANCE. 
 
 IN New York Aubert Dubayet resumed his cor 
 respondence with Lakanal. " I have had the good 
 luck," he wrote, " to be introduced to John Jay, one 
 of the brightest luminaries of the revolution, and now 
 secretary of foreign affairs. He is also very uneasy 
 as to the duration and vitality of this new republican 
 form of government. Start not in dismay, dear friend 
 of mine. ' Our affairs,' he said, 'seem to lead to some 
 crisis, something that I can not foresee or conjecture. 
 I am very apprehensive, more so than during the war. 
 Then we had a fixed object, and though the means 
 and time of obtaining it were problematical, yet I did 
 firmly believe that we should ultimately succeed, be 
 cause I as firmly believed that justice was with us. 
 The case is now altered. We are going and doing 
 wrong, and, therefore, I look forward to evils and calam 
 ities, but without being able to guess at the instru 
 ment, nature, or measure of them. What I most fear 
 is, that the better kind of people, by which I mean 
 the people who are orderly and industrious, who are 
 content with their situations, and not uneasy in their 
 circumstances, will be led by the insecurity of prop. 
 
 (109)
 
 1 10 4 UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 erty, the loss of public faith and rectitude, to consider 
 the charms of liberty as imaginary and delusive. A 
 state of fluctuation and uncertainty must disgust and 
 alarm.' 
 
 " ' Mr. Jay,' said I, ' as you have the kindness to en 
 lighten me on the condition of a country and insti 
 tutions for which I have fought, and in which I take 
 the deepest interest as a Frenchman and al'y, will 
 you permit me to ask if you have ever communicated 
 these views to General Washington ? ' 
 
 " ' I have,' replied the secretary of foreign affairs, 
 and he took a letter from a table before him. ' Here 
 is,' he continued, ' Washington's answer : " I coincide 
 in your opinion that public affairs are drawing rapidly 
 to a crisis, and I acknowledge that the event is equal 
 ly beyond my foresight. We have errors to correct. 
 We have probably had too good an opinion of human 
 nature in forming our confederation. Experience has 
 taught us that men will not adopt and carry into ex 
 ecution measures the best calculated for their own 
 good, without the intervention of coercive power. I 
 do not conceive that we can exist long as a nation with 
 out lodging somewhere a power which will pervade the 
 whole Union in as energetic a manner as the author 
 ity of the State governments extends over the several 
 States. To be fearful of investing Congress, insti 
 tuted as that body is, with ample authorities for na 
 tional progress, appears to me the very climax of pop 
 ular absurdity and madness. Could Congress exert 
 them for the detriment of the people, without injur 
 ing themselves in an equal or greater proportion? 
 Are not their interests inseparably connected with 
 those of their constituents? By the rotation of ap 
 pointments must they not mingle frequently with the
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. m 
 
 mass of the citizens? Is it not rather to be appre 
 hended, if they were possessed of the powers before 
 described, that the individual members would be in 
 duced to use them, on many occasions, very timidly 
 and inefficaciously, for fear of losing their popularity 
 and future election? We must take human nature 
 as we find it ; perfection falls not to the state of 
 mortals." ' 
 
 " What food for reflection, my dear Lakanal ! Here 
 is the secretary of foreign affairs for this new-born re 
 public, intensely afraid that, by the ' insecurity of 
 property, the loss of public faith and rectitude,' the 
 people may consider the charms of liberty, their re 
 cently chosen bride, as ' imaginary and delusive ' ! 
 Here is Washington himself declaring that they had 
 too good an opinion of human nature when they formed 
 their confederation ! If experience, as he said, has 
 taught that men will not adopt and carry into execution 
 measures the best calculated for their own good, without 
 the intervention of coercive power, how can it be main 
 tained that they are capable of self-government? 
 Whence is to come that coercive power which is to 
 compel the people to pursue their own good and pre 
 vent them from going astray? If they are so stupid 
 or prejudiced as not to see what is conducive to their 
 own welfare, surely they can not have the sense to 
 choose properly those rulers who are to coerce them 
 into it. Are we, then, to go back to the doctrine of 
 divinely-appointed governors and kings? This sadly 
 perplexes me, dear Lakanal. It must seem very in 
 credible that such a declaration should come from 
 such a source, and it certainly would rejoice the heart 
 of Tintin Calandro, the royalist and the loyal. 
 
 " But let us, my friend, return to Washington's let-
 
 H2 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 ter to Jay. 'What, then, is to be done?' he says. 
 ' Things can not go on in the same strain forever. It 
 is much to be feared, as you observe, that the better 
 kind of people, being disgusted with these circum 
 stances, will have their minds prepared for any revo 
 lution whatever. We are apt to run from one ex 
 treme to another. I am told that even respectable 
 characters speak of a monarchical form of government 
 without horror. From thinking proceeds speaking ; 
 thence acting is often but a single step. But how 
 irrevocable and tremendous ! What a triumph for our 
 enemies to verify their predictions ! What a triumph 
 for the advocates of despotism to find that we are inca 
 pable of governing ourselves, and that systems, founded 
 on the basis of equal liberty, are merely ideal and fal 
 lacious ! Would to God that wise measures may be 
 taken in time to avert the consequences we have but 
 too much reason to apprehend ! ' What an admission, 
 O ye deities of high Olympus ! Will, my dear Lak- 
 anal, your intense worship of the Phrygian goddess 
 who wears a red cap on her head, permit you to be 
 lieve that the founder of this infant republic declares 
 that he has but too much reason to apprehend that it 
 may be changed into a monarchy? O the vanity of 
 human aspirations and calculations! 
 
 "'Retired as I am from the world,' Washington 
 further says, ' I frankly acknowledge I can not feel 
 myself an unconcerned spectator. Yet, having hap 
 pily assisted in bringing the ship into port, and hav 
 ing been fairly discharged, it is not my business to 
 embark again on the sea of troubles. Nor could it be 
 expected that my sentiments and opinions would have 
 much weight in the minds of my countrymen. They 
 have been neglected, though given as a last legacy in
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. \\^ 
 
 a most solemn manner. I then perhaps had some 
 claims to public attention. I consider myself as hav 
 ing none at present.' 
 
 " Can there be anything more inexpressibly sad 
 than this last paragraph ? What mournful dejection ! 
 Was this to be expected at the end of such a career? 
 What discouragement there must have been in such 
 a heart, when these lines were penned ! And let me 
 tell you, my dear Lakanal, that there are good causes 
 for it, inasmuch as, according to my observations, I 
 can safely assert, I think, that now, as during the war, 
 the population of this country is about equally divided 
 into Tories and Whigs that is to say, between roy 
 alists and republicans. In Massachusetts, that famous 
 land of the pilgrims, which claims to be the cradle of 
 the revolution, there is now a dangerous insurrection 
 which threatens to jeopardize all that has been se 
 cured. General Knox, the secretary of war, who 
 had been sent by Congress to inquire into this mat 
 ter, thus reports : ' The creed of the insurgents is, 
 that the property of the United States has been pro 
 tected from the confiscation of Britain by the joint 
 exertion of all, and therefore ought to be the common 
 property of all, and he that attempts opposition to 
 this creed, is an enemy to equity and justice, and 
 ought to be swept from the face of the earth. They 
 are determined to annihilate all debts, public and pri 
 vate, and have agrarian laws, which are easily effected 
 by the means of unfunded paper, which shall be a 
 tender in all cases whatever." 
 
 These events were transpiring in 1786, and were 
 not of a nature to inspire Aubert Dubayet with much 
 confidence in, and much sympathy for, the popular 
 movements and manoeuvres which the friends of
 
 1 14 A UBERT DUB A YET. 
 
 change and liberty were beginning to inaugurate in 
 his own country, much to the delight of his former 
 college companion, Joseph Lakanal, who kept him 
 regularly posted up as to what was going on in France. 
 He saw that anarchy and demoralization were the re 
 sult of a revolution in America, and he was afraid 
 that such would be the case on the other side of the 
 Atlantic, to a much greater degree and with much 
 more frightful consequences. He saw that it was not 
 enough to be the elected representatives of the peo 
 ple, in order to be, from that single circumstance, 
 honest, virtuous, and enlightened, and besides, that 
 the wisdom and morality of representatives were of 
 very little avail when facing the folly or evil passions 
 of constituents. He had a striking example before 
 him. Congress was powerless, and did not even know 
 what resolve to take. One of the distinguished mem 
 bers of that body, Colonel Henry Lee, was writing 
 letters after letters to Washington, asking for his ad 
 vice. He replied at last : " You tell me, my good Sir, 
 of employing influence to appease the present troubles 
 in Massachusetts. I know not where that influence 
 is to be found, or, if attainable, that it would be a 
 proper remedy for the disorders. Influence is not 
 government. Let us have a government by which 
 our lives, liberties, and properties will be secured, or 
 let us know the worst at once. There is a call for 
 decision. Know precisely what the insurgents aim 
 at. If they have real grievances, redress them if pos 
 sible ; or acknowledge the justice of them, and your 
 inability to give that redress at that moment. If 
 they have not, employ the force of government 
 against them at once. If this is inadequate, all will 
 be convinced that the superstructure is bad and wants
 
 AUBERT DUBAYET. ujj 
 
 support. To delay one or other of these expedients 
 is to exasperate on one hand, or to give confidence 
 on the other. Let the reins of government, then, be 
 braced, and held with a steady hand, and every viola 
 tion of the constitution be reprehended. If defective, 
 let it be amended ; but not suffered to be trampled 
 upon whilst it has an existence." 
 
 This was the firm and considerate advice of a 
 statesman and soldier, but the effete Congress had 
 not nerve enough to apply the remedy needed by the 
 evil, which grew as it fed upon itself. On the ist of 
 November, Colonel Humphreys, one of Washington's 
 former aides-de-camp, wrote to him from New Haven, 
 in Connecticut : " The troubles in Massachusetts still 
 continue. Government is prostrated in the dust, and 
 it is much to be feared that there is not energy enough 
 in that State to re-establish the civil powers. The 
 leaders of the mob, whose fortunes and measures are 
 desperate, are strengthening themselves daily ; and it 
 is expected that they will soon take possession of the 
 continental magazine at Springfield, in which there 
 are from ten to fifteen thousand stand of arms in ex 
 cellent order. 
 
 " A general want of compliance with the requisi 
 tions of Congress for money seems to prognosticate 
 that we are rapidly advancing to a crisis. Congress, 
 I am told, is seriously alarmed, and hardly knows 
 which way to turn, or what to expect. Indeed, my 
 dear General, nothing but a good Providence can ex 
 tricate us from the present convulsion. 
 
 " In case of civil discord, I have already told you it 
 was seriously my opinion that you could not remain 
 neuter, and that you would be obliged, in self-defense, 
 to take one part or the other, or withdraw from the 
 continent. Your friends are of the same opinion."
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 What a picture ! A war of seven years, indescrib 
 able sufferings endured by the Americans, the richest 
 blood of France freely spilt or exposed, her millions 
 scattered without stint, to enthrone liberty instead of 
 oppression, and to establish forever the doctrine that 
 all men are born free and equal ! These had been 
 the objects aimed at. What had been obtained ? 
 The preceding pages show it. What was the pros 
 pect in the future ? A civil war, and Washington 
 leading Americans against Americans, or flying from 
 his country to avoid such a dire necessity ! Notwith 
 standing his almost superhuman fortitude, well may 
 Washington have been driven to despair, and ex 
 claimed, as he did : " What, gracious God, is man, 
 that there should be such inconsistency and perfidious- 
 ness in his conduct ! It was but the other day that 
 we were shedding our blood to obtain the constitu 
 tions under which we now live constitutions of our 
 own choice and making and which now we are un 
 sheathing the sword to overturn ! The thing is so 
 unaccountable, that I hardly know how to realize it, 
 or to persuade myself that I am not under the illu 
 sion of a dream." * 
 
 The extent of the existing evils and the trouble of 
 mind which it produced in him are strikingly exhib 
 ited in his letters to Knox : " I feel, my dear General 
 Knox," he says, " infinitely more than I can express 
 to you for the disorders which have arisen in these 
 States. Good God ! Who, besides a Tory, could have 
 foreseen, or a Briton predicted them ? I do assure 
 you that, even at this moment, when I reflect upon 
 the present prospect of our affairs, it seems to me to 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington,'' p. 453, vol. iv.
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. \\j 
 
 be like the vision of a dream. After what I have 
 seen, or rather what I have heard, I shall be surprised 
 at nothing; for, if three years since, any person had 
 told me that there would have been such a formida 
 ble rebellion of our own making, I should have 
 thought him a bedlamite, a fit subject for a mad 
 house. In regretting, which I have often done with 
 the keenest sorrow, the death of our much-lamented 
 friend, General Greene, I have accompanied it of late 
 with a query, whether he would not have preferred 
 such an event, to the scenes which, it is more than 
 probable, many of his compatriots may live to be 
 moan." What a terrible sentence ! What a lesson 
 to the pride of man, who sometimes thinks that he is 
 doing wonders for his race, when in reality he is lead 
 ing it to perdition! This letter was communicated 
 to Dubayet, who sent a copy of it to Lakanal, with 
 this observation ; " If such things are possible in the 
 golden age of this republic, which was intended by 
 its authors to be a model one for the world, what will 
 happen to it in its age of brass?" 
 
 So distressed was Washington that, to use his own 
 expressions, "he allowed himself, contrary to his 
 original intention, to be swept back into the tide of 
 human affairs, and to abandon that ease and retire 
 ment which," he said, " were so desired by him and 
 so essentially necessary." He exerted himself to the 
 utmost to bring about a modification of the govern 
 ment, and to give the new one proposed more force 
 and vitality. In connection with that subject, he 
 wrote to James Madison : " How melancholy is the 
 reflection that, in so short a time, we should have 
 made such large strides toward fulfilling the predic 
 tions of our transatlantic foes ! Leave them to them-
 
 I 1 3 A USER T DUB A YET. 
 
 selves, and their government will soon dissolve. Will 
 not the wise and good strive hard to avoid this evil ? 
 Or will their supineness suffer ignorance and the arts 
 of self-interested and designing, disaffected, and des 
 perate characters to involve this great country in 
 wretchedness and in contempt? What stronger evi 
 dence can be given of the want of energy in our gov 
 ernment than those disorders? If there is no power 
 in it to check them, what security has a man for life, 
 liberty, or property ? To you I am sure I need not 
 add aught on the subject. The consequences of a lax 
 or inefficient government are too obvious to be dwelt 
 upon. Thirteen sovereignties pulling against each 
 other, and all tugging at the Federal head, will soon 
 bring ruin on the whole ; whereas a liberal and ener 
 getic constitution, well checked and well watched, to 
 prevent encroachments, might restore us to that de 
 gree of respectability and consequence to which we 
 had the finest prospect of attaining." 
 
 Notwithstanding Washington, in a fit of despond 
 ency, said that his opinions and counsels were of little 
 weight with his countrymen, it was the reverse of the 
 proposition which was the truth; they had been 
 widely effective, and had contributed to induce the 
 legislative assemblies of the several States to adopt 
 the plan of a convention, to meet at Philadelphia, 
 and devise a better system of federation. Washington 
 was put at the head of the Virginia delegation. Be 
 fore the time arrived for the meeting of the 
 convention, the insurrection in Massachusetts was 
 suppressed with but little bloodshed. It had ap 
 peared very formidable ; there had been a great deal 
 of sound and fury ; but when they had to come to 
 blows, the roaring lions turned out to be sheep, and
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 1 19 
 
 the leaders fled to Canada, leaving their followers to 
 fare as best they could. True to his character, Wash 
 ington recommended lenient measures, and advo 
 cated the policy of not alienating the people from 
 their government by the severity of unnecessary pun 
 ishment. But it is not in the nature of Puritanism 
 to be merciful and chivalrous so that the Legislature 
 of Massachusetts disfranchised a large number of heri 
 citizens, and thereby deprived some of them of the 
 means of gaining a livelihood. Political helotism, 
 thus established in the lap of liberty, seemed to Aubert 
 Dubayet a monstrous contradiction. He had been 
 still more startled by the insurrection itself ; for, 
 during the war and after, he had associated much 
 with Massachusetts people, and from their conversa 
 tions and representations he had derived the impres 
 sion that the inhabitants of that State were the most 
 law-abiding, the most patriotic, the most disinterest 
 ed, the most charitable, the most virtuous, the most 
 enlightened community that had ever existed consti 
 tuting, in fact, the only thoroughly pure spot in this 
 sinful world. 
 
 The convention of the delegates from all the States 
 met with a quorum on the 25th of May 1787, and 
 Washington was unanimously called to the chair as 
 president. After discussions which lasted four months, 
 the result was the formation of a new confederacy 
 and constitution for the United States. This consti 
 tution was to be ratified by the States before it went 
 into effect. " This instrument," wrote Dubayet to 
 Lakanal, " meets with the most strenuous opposition 
 from many quarters. Washington, however, is highly 
 pleased. I heard him say: 'It appears to me little 
 short of a miracle, that the delegates from so many
 
 1 20 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 States, different from each other in their manners and 
 prejudices, should unite in forming a system of 
 national government so little liable to well-founded 
 objections. Nor am I such an enthusiastic, partial, 
 or indiscriminating admirer of it, as not to perceive it 
 is tinctured with some real, though not radical, defects. 
 With regard to the two great points, the pivots upon 
 which the whole machine must move, my creed is 
 simply, first, that the General Government is not in 
 vested with more powers than are indispensably nec 
 essary to perform the functions of a good govern 
 ment ; and, consequently, that no objection ought to 
 be made against the quantity of power delegated to 
 it. Secondly, that these powers, as the appointment 
 of all rulers will ever arise from, and at short stated 
 intervals recur to, the free suffrages of the people, are 
 so distributed among the legislative, executive, and 
 judicial branches into which the General Government 
 is arranged, that it can never be in danger of degen 
 erating into a monarchy, an oligarchy, an aristocracy, 
 or any other despotic or oppressive form, so long as 
 there shall remain any virtue in the body of the people. 
 We are not to expect perfection in this world. Noth 
 ing but harmony, honesty, industry, and frugality are 
 necessary to make us a great and happy people.' 
 
 " This is the sound of one bell, my dear friend, but, 
 having met Patrick Henry, the great Virginian 
 patriot, the Demosthenes of America, whose famous 
 shout of ' Give me liberty, or give me death,' rever 
 berated across the Atlantic with such thrilling effect, 
 as you well know, he sounded the tocsin of alarm 
 when I communicated to him Washington's views. 
 
 " ' I am sorry,' he said, ' that I can not agree with 
 that good and great man. He is so happy at the
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. I2 i 
 
 prospect of escaping the confusion and misery which 
 were rapidly coming upon us, that I am afraid his 
 excellent judgment is warped. He sees on this occa 
 sion with the eyes of hope, not with those of experi 
 ence and stern reason ; his verdict is from the heart 
 and not from the brain. We have not laid a lasting 
 foundation for tranquillity and happiness. This 
 instrument gives too much constructive power to the 
 Federal Government. Washington uses too often 
 the word, national ; I always say, federal. We are 
 not a nation, but a federation of sovereignties. I am 
 afraid that this will be forgotten in the end. I, for 
 one, am a Virginian, and nothing else. That satis 
 fies my ambition. I think that I read but too clearly 
 into the future. Swelled by that mighty tide of emi 
 gration which, like the waves of the ocean, will beat 
 incessantly upon our shores, the population of the 
 United States, whose territory, in the course of time, 
 may extend to the frontiers of Mexico, and perhaps 
 beyond them, will exceed fifty millions in a century 
 hence. It is, then, probable that we shall become the 
 greatest commercial, agricultural, and manufacturing 
 people in the world, and, therefore, the richest. The 
 Federal Government, thus gigantic in its proportions, 
 will hold the purse and the sword of that Titan under 
 its absolute control. Will it not, then, be omnipotent ? 
 Who will gainsay its construction of its own powers? 
 Give me the purse and the sword of a nation, and I 
 am Caesar in fact, no matter by what name you may 
 call me, and no Caesar is a respecter of rights secured 
 only by paper guaranties.' 
 
 " I ventured here to interrupt him, and to express 
 the hope that his fears were imaginary. 
 
 " ' Imaginary ! ' he exclaimed. ' Has not our pres- 
 6
 
 122 ^ USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 ent government begun in strife and insurrection? Is 
 not the new one proposed the object of angry opposi 
 tion ? What country ever had such a diversity of 
 interests, not to say anything of that antagonism 
 which must be irrepressible and irreconcilable between 
 slaveholding and non-slaveholding States ; for, the 
 few slaves still existing on the north side of Maryland 
 are bound to be soon emancipated, or, rather, to be 
 sold to the South, where alone they can be profitable 
 to their masters. The late insurrection in Massachu 
 setts will be imitated and " bettered by the instruc 
 tion." On that occasion it was a mere rebellion 
 against that State. The like event in fifty years will 
 probably be termed a rebellion against the National 
 Government, as it will then be called, when its origin 
 is forgotten ; and there will be disfranchisements de 
 creed by Congress, as sweepingly as those which were 
 recently decreed by the Legislature of that State. But 
 what a difference, and with what awful consequences ! 
 Were I to live a century longer, I should not be aston 
 ished to see half the people of the United States arrayed 
 in war against the other half, as it was lately very near 
 occurring, when we thought that he whom we call the 
 Father of his Country would have to take side, and to 
 choose between his fellow-citizens divided into two 
 hostile camps, or leave the continent to avoid being 
 forced into civil war. But should in after years that 
 war break out, it will no longer be between Whigs 
 and Tories. Probably it will be between the North 
 and the South, the Cavaliers against the Puritans, the 
 lordly owners of black slaves against the white slaves 
 of the wheel and spindle.' 
 
 "' I can not, however, but admire/ said I, ' the pro 
 found wisdom which has equally divided the powers
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 123 
 
 of the new government between the judiciary, the 
 executive, and the legislative department. It is a 
 skillful contrivance of checks and balances, which 
 must prevent many of the evils you apprehend.' 
 
 " ' Powers equally divided ! ' said he. ' Those 
 checks and balances are as nugatory and deceptive 
 as shadows assuming the semblance of substances. 
 In times of high excitement, should the Supreme 
 Court of the United States dare to oppose Congress, 
 that body will legislate it into non-entity, nullity, or 
 insignificance. As to the President, should he thwart 
 a House and Senate composed of unscrupulous par 
 tisans elected by a passion-moved multitude, as all 
 multitudes are, they will either impeach and remove 
 him, or so fetter him in his office as to compel him 
 to be inactive, or follow them passively in leading- 
 strings. Then will be inaugurated the rule of a par 
 liamentary oligarchy the worst of all despotisms, 
 because it has no personal responsibility. Then will 
 the States be provinces and the Governors procon 
 suls. As to myself, I am not for the splendor of con 
 solidation, nor for the cohesion of public plunder and 
 demoralization in a vast American empire, imposing 
 on its subjects the chains of a gilded servitude. I 
 prefer small independent States, with moderate 
 wealth and power; but rich in virtue, patriotism, 
 and frugality. This is more conducive to the happi 
 ness of men. Give me a galaxy of stars self-ponder- 
 ated and supporting one another by mutual attrac 
 tion in the atmosphere of liberty and equality, rather 
 than the radiant supremacy, gorgeous as it may be, 
 of the monarch of the day, who, when he appears on 
 the horizon, does not permit any other rival luminary 
 to shine in that firmament where he reigns in solitary 
 grandeur.'
 
 ! 24 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 " There are many, however, my dear Lakanal, and 
 among them is Alexander Hamilton, who would 
 have wished for a stronger government than the one 
 which Patrick Henry thinks too strong. Such are 
 the conflicting views of men ! It is as difficult to 
 make them agree as clocks ; Charles V. found that 
 out. Posterity alone will be able to decide correctly 
 on this question of the merits of this new constitu 
 tion of the United States, when tasting of its fruits." 
 
 That new constitution having gone into operation, 
 Washington was elected President without opposi 
 tion, and was inaugurated in the city of New York 
 on the 3Oth of April, 1789, amidst the enthusiastic 
 rejoicings of the people. A few days after having 
 witnessed that august ceremony, Aubert Dubayet 
 departed for France and landed safely at Bordeaux, 
 where he found Lakanal, who, having been apprised 
 of the probable time of his arrival, had hastened to 
 meet him. After the friends had exchanged greet 
 ings 
 
 " What news in our dear France ? " said Dubayet. 
 
 " The news is," replied Lakanal, " that you have 
 seen the end of one revolution, and that you arrive 
 just in time to see the beginning of another." 
 
 " May we, then," exclaimed Dubayet, " have a 
 Washington at our head to lead us through the ter 
 rible ordeal ! " 
 
 " Amen ! " ejaculated the priest and professor of 
 belles-lettres. 
 
 "And our dear Tintin Calandro? How fares he?" 
 inquired Dubayet. 
 
 " He fiddles," replied Lakanal with a sneer, "whilst 
 Rome is burning."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU BECOMES A CLOTH MER- 
 CHANT HIS FIRST POLITICAL SPEECH AT AIX 
 AS A CANDIDATE BEFORE THE PEOPLE. 
 
 AUBERT DUBAYET had inherited considerable 
 property in Louisiana. Before departing from the 
 United States, to the formation of which he had con 
 tributed, he had ordered the whole of this property 
 to be sold and the amount remitted to him in Paris, 
 so that, on hij arrival in that city, he found a large 
 sum at his disposal. He invested in a dwelling-house 
 in Grenoble and in farms near that town, where his 
 family originated, and where he still had many rela 
 tives. He soon acquired much influence in that 
 province, then called Dauphine, and subsequently the 
 Department of Isere. In consequence of the pecul 
 iar condition of the public mind at that epoch, in a 
 country where great radical changes were desired and 
 probable, all persons connected with the American 
 revolution, which had so recently been accomplished, 
 and particularly those French officers who had taken 
 part in it, were objects of lively interest. Hence Au- 
 bert Dubayet became the lion of the locality and a 
 sort qf political authority. Old and young turned 
 their eyes to him inquisitively, as if they hoped that 
 he had brought from the new world, and from the 
 cradle of its infant republic, some knowledge or ex 
 perience by which they might profit in settling those 
 
 (125)
 
 1 26 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 questions that threatened to convulse the nation. In 
 fact, without aiming at any such distinction, Aubert 
 Dubayet, by the mere force of circumstance, was 
 gravitating toward the position of a leader of the peo 
 ple. The man who had been in contact with Wash 
 ington, Lafayette, Franklin, and the other great pa 
 triots of America, and who had contributed in laying 
 the broad foundations of the empire of freedom in the 
 wilderness discovered by Columbus, was invested with 
 a character which commanded respect and excited 
 curiosity. In social circles he was eagerly listened to 
 when he related some of the incidents of the struggle 
 which he had witnessed, and described the new peo 
 ple, the new institutions, and the new country he had 
 carefully examined. The population of the province 
 where Aubert Dubayet had established himself, was 
 soon intensely agitated by the convocation of the 
 States-General of the kingdom. This was an assembly 
 composed of the nobility, clergy, and tiers <ftat, or com 
 mons, deliberating in distinct bodies and in separate 
 chambers, as the representatives of the nation, and 
 which used to be reluctantly convened by the royal 
 authority, and then, only on occasions of the most 
 vital importance. The French people were not ac 
 customed to elections, and the present one was con 
 ducted with indescribable violence of party feelings. 
 Aubert Dubayet had been solicited to participate in 
 it, but had persistently refused, on the ground that 
 his coming among them had been of too recent a date 
 to permit him to acquire a sufficient knowledge of 
 the country and of its wants. He contented himself, 
 therefore, with being a spectator of the contest, but 
 by no means an unconcerned one. 
 
 In the neighboring province, so well known in his-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. : 27 
 
 tory and poetry under the name of Provence, there 
 was a man destined to great celebrity, who was a can 
 didate for the honors of a seat in the States-General. 
 His name was Honore Gabriel Riquetti, Count de 
 Mirabeau. The bearer of that name, which was to 
 become so famous, had already acquired an unenvi 
 able notoriety by the vices which he really possessed, 
 and by those which were attributed to him. He had 
 early yielded to the unrestrained indulgence of pas 
 sions uncommonly fierce. His whole life had been 
 but one perpetual storm, during which he seemed to 
 have delighted in braving the thunderbolt of law and 
 authority, and in setting Heaven itself at defiance; 
 for he was bold enough to have repeated the exclama 
 tion of the younger Ajax : " I will escape from this 
 wreck in spite of the gods." His eloquence was re 
 ported to be resistless, so much so that, on one occa 
 sion, his father, having caused him to be incarcerated 
 in a state prison for some delinquency of which he 
 was accused, refused to allow him the hearing that he 
 claimed in self-defense, and gave this reason for his 
 refusal : " I know that I am right, but were I to afford 
 him the opportunity to speak for himself, he would 
 convince me that I am wrong." 
 
 Being called to Aix on some private affair, Aubert 
 Dubayet, in the evening of the day following his arri 
 val, saw the streets filled with people who were hast 
 ening in a particular direction, and who seemed greatly 
 excited. He inquired what was the matter, and was 
 told that the public square in front of the cathedral 
 was to be illuminated, and that Mirabeau, the candi 
 date for the States-General, would address the people. 
 The meeting was to take place at eight o'clock. 
 Through the influence of a friend, Aubert Dubayet
 
 1 28 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 managed to secure a seat not far from the platform 
 which had been prepared for the occasion. When the 
 orator made his appearance he was received with a 
 whirlwind of applause, mixed with shouts of derision 
 and abuse. The object of these boisterous demon 
 strations was a man of ordinary size, but very robust. 
 His shoulders were broad and square, and his swelling 
 chest gave promise of a powerful voice ; his bushy 
 hair, carefully powdered and combed back, made more 
 salient a high and heavy forehead of the Olympian 
 cast, streaked with large blue veins. His eyes, gleam 
 ing under his arched brows, were a mirror that re 
 flected all the emotions of which the soul is suscep 
 tible. His voice was superb in all its keys; his gest 
 ures were few, but worthy of the most consummate 
 actor. His whole face was furrowed with deep lines ; it 
 looked as if made up of seams. A terrible disease had 
 marred it, pitting the skin, thickening its texture, and 
 enlarging his naturally harsh features into repulsive 
 coarseness. His lips tightly pressed together, when he 
 was silent, seemed purposely closed to check the explo 
 sion of feelings and the flow of thoughts crowding at 
 the gate, and too eager to burst forth before being 
 arrayed into the proper order that judgment required. 
 When contemplating such a countenance it was impos 
 sible not to think that it was ugliness itself, although 
 the sublimity of genius was visible through the horrid 
 mask. This personage, who looked about forty years 
 old, stood awhile with his arms folded over his broad 
 chest, and with his massive head haughtily thrown 
 back. Surveying leisurely the multitude before him 
 with an ill-concealed air of superiority and self-confi 
 dence which seemed to say: Only hear me, and you 
 will see if I am not your master he waited until the
 
 A VBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 tumult occasioned by his presence had entirely sub 
 sided. 
 
 " I know," he said, " that I have here both friends 
 and enemies. Before my friends applaud, and my 
 enemies hoot, I hope they will do me the favor to 
 listen. To those whom I wish to represent, it is nec 
 essary that I should be known physically, intellectu 
 ally, and morally. Well, here I stand with all the 
 blushing honors of my far-famed ugliness. Although 
 it is rumored that more than one Venus has smiled on 
 me, I am no Adonis, as you must now rest assured from 
 actual inspection. Judge for yourselves on that point. 
 To a lady who wanted a description of my person, I 
 once wrote : ' You have only to imagine the face of a 
 lion just recovering from the most malignant attack 
 of small-pox.' Another thing, as accidental in me as 
 my ugliness, is my birth, which is noble. I am the 
 legitimate issue of Victor Riquetti, Marquis de Mira- 
 beau, and of Louise de Caraman. Most of my ances 
 tors were birds of prey, who used the sword as the 
 eagle uses its beak. There was but one exception in 
 the line that of Riquet, the engineer who constructed 
 the canal of Languedoc. He, for one, did something 
 really useful. I wish that I could also mention, as 
 another exception, my own father, one of the chiefs 
 of that philanthropic sect called the ' Economists,' 
 who have formed a society to make every peasant 
 rich, and who have only succeeded in ruining all those 
 that have followed their precepts. That father of 
 mine has published a book entitled ' The Friend of 
 Man,' in which he speaks with delirious enthusiasm 
 of the charms of liberty, and in which he shows how 
 all men can live free and happy, without carrying be 
 tween their teeth the curb and bit imposed by heaven-
 
 ! 30 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 born rulers, and particularly without the soothing and 
 moralizing influence of the rack and of the dungeon. 
 But the ' Friend of Man ' having been the harshest of 
 despots under his own roof, and having solicited and 
 obtained fifty-four lettres de cachet* against members 
 of his own family, I give him up with respectful regret, 
 and can not say that I have much to brag of, as to that 
 particular link in my hereditary chain of ancestry'. 
 
 " I had received from nature a robust constitution, 
 volcanic passions, an ardent imagination, a wonderful 
 facility and aptitude for study, and a prodigious mem 
 ory. In the hands of a mentor, and under the salu 
 tary influence of a judicious and well-regulated edu 
 cation, I might have avoided many errors. But it 
 was attempted to rule the boy with the strong hand 
 of paternal despotism. The boy spurned and broke 
 the rod, thus giving promise of the man who is the 
 sworn and implacable foe of arbitrary power wher 
 ever it raises its insolent head. I was born, I say, 
 with an impetuous temper, but susceptible of gener 
 ous sentiments. The gentle hand of a skillful pilot 
 would have led me safely through those storms by 
 which I have been wrecked more than once. Un 
 fortunately, I was treated with extraordinary harsh 
 ness from my infancy, and was irritated and goaded 
 into excesses. Now that experience has taught me 
 lessons by which I have profited, I repent, as a son, 
 that I was sometimes rebellious ; for paternal author 
 ity is the only one which is of divine right, even in its 
 abuses, and against which insurrection can not be jus 
 tified. But, setting this aside, what have I done that 
 
 * Arbitrary orders of arrest issued in the name of the king 
 by one of his ministers.
 
 A UBF.R T D UBA YET. 1 3 1 
 
 ought to stamp on my brow the seal of Cain's curse ? 
 What have I done that has not been done by many 
 other young men of the same social position, with 
 impunity and without reproach, whilst every one of 
 my delinquencies has been visited with extreme rep 
 robation and punishment? Permit to the necessity 
 of self-defense a short review of my life. I think that 
 I can show that I am better than my reputation, and 
 that my faults and sins have been exaggerated and 
 distorted by the malignancy of my enemies. 
 
 " My early youth was intrusted to the care and 
 tuition of an excellent and learned man, called Pois- 
 son, who still lives. He can tell whether I was. born 
 that monster I am represented to be. He can tell 
 whether I was not the most studious and docile of 
 pupils, and whether my progress under him was not 
 so rapid, that, when I was withdrawn from his hands 
 at the age of fourteen, I was already master of all the 
 classics, and animated with the desire of acquiring a 
 larger stock of the wealth of knowledge. Were these 
 the indications of an evil nature ? At the age which 
 I have mentioned, being destined by my father to the 
 profession of arms, I was placed at a military school, 
 where I studied mathematics for two years, and ob 
 tained some proficiency in the arts of drawing and 
 music. Tormented with the ambition of being one 
 day a celebrity and the pride of my country, I wrote 
 and published, before beard had grown on my chin, a 
 eulogy of the Great Condc, and several pieces of 
 poetry. Were these the signs of the beast, and 
 ought not one, who thus began his career, to have 
 been encouraged and assisted, instead of being thwart 
 ed, hated, oppressed, and slandered at that time of 
 life when the soul feels so keenly such outrages, par-
 
 1 32 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 ticularly when they come from a quarter where love, 
 or at least justice, is expected? When at school, a 
 friend surprised me in my chamber declaiming with 
 ardor : ' Oh ! oh ! ' exclaimed he, ' are you rehearsing 
 the part of Demosthenes?' 'Why not?' I answered. 
 ' We may, before I die, have the States-General in 
 France.' Well, fellow-citizens, my presentiment did 
 not deceive me ; we shall have the States-General in 
 a few days." Here he paused, and lifting up his 
 hands toward heaven, he thundered forth these words : 
 "And should I be destined by the Almighty, in those 
 States-General representing the rights and majesty of 
 the nation, to be the Demosthenes of France even 
 for the brief space of two years, followed by the sad 
 death and the immortality of the Athenian, I ask no 
 more, and accept the decree of fate with enthusiastic 
 gratitude." This was said in such a manner that it 
 struck the vast assembly like an electric shock, and 
 this time there was heard but one unanimous shout 
 of acclamation. 
 
 " Pardon me," continued the orator with a voice 
 which had become composed, " pardon me the ego 
 tism of these details. But I am here on my defense, 
 as you must remember. I am here to refute those 
 calumnies which are circulated with effrontery to de 
 feat my election. I resume, therefore, the biograph 
 ical sketch of my life. At seventeen years of age I 
 entered the army as a sub-lieutenant. Shortly after, 
 I had a love intrigue, unfortunately accompanied with 
 circumstances which gave it more notoriety than gen 
 erally waits on affairs of this kind. What would most 
 of the fathers here present have done? Taking into 
 consideration the extreme youth of their son, they 
 would have gently reprimanded him, and by affec-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 133 
 
 tionate advice guarded him against the repetition of 
 such folly. But my father obtained against me a 
 lettre de cachet, and had me locked up in the fortress of 
 the Island of Re, like a felon of the worst character. 
 That was not all. He had determined to send me to 
 the Dutch colonies of India, where the climate is al 
 most certain death to Europeans, and it was with 
 considerable difficulty, and only through the earnest 
 and persistent entreaties of friends, that he was pre 
 vented from accomplishing his purpose. When I 
 came out of the dungeon of Re, did I, like young 
 men of my rank, indulge in the excesses of an effete 
 and corrupt life ? No. I obtained permission to 
 make the campaign of Corsica as a simple volunteer 
 a permission which was the only one I ever pro 
 cured readily probably on account of its affording 
 the chance of my being killed. I distinguished my 
 self so much in that campaign, that I rose to be a 
 captain of dragoons. Let me here hasten to say, 
 that I repented afterward having been an instrument 
 in a war the object of which was to extinguish the 
 liberties of a people ; and, to expiate the fault that I 
 had committed, I wrote a memorial in which I exposed 
 and denounced the oppressive conduct of the Genoese 
 invaders, who subsequently sold that island to France. 
 That memorial I submitted to my father, who thought 
 proper to destroy it. 
 
 " Reared with the prejudices of my race and of the 
 class to which I belonged, and sharing their predilec 
 tion for military service, I wished to continue in it. 
 I thought that I was qualified for that profession. 
 Five years of my life had been devoted to its study 
 in all its branches, and there was not one single book 
 treating of war, in any living or dead language, that
 
 134 A UBER T D UBA YE T - 
 
 I had not read. My robust constitution permitted 
 me to endure any hardship and fatigue. I was full 
 of ardor and daring, and at the same time, phlegmat- 
 ically cool. Of this I gave proof in all the dangers 
 to which I found myself exposed. I felt, besides, 
 that I was gifted with an excellent and rapid coup 
 d'ceil. Boiling all over with ambition, it was natural 
 that I should dream of becoming a marshal of France. 
 Why not? Stimulated by that hope, I urged my 
 father to purchase for me, according to usage, the 
 colonelcy of a regiment. He replied tauntingly: 
 * Duguesclin and Bayard did not thus begin.' I was 
 deeply wounded ; I renounced in disgust that profes 
 sion to which my father himself had destined me, and 
 in which, however, he refused to give me any assist 
 ance. He had changed his mind, it seems, and now 
 wished to bury me in the obscure labors of the ad 
 ministration of his estate. I obeyed him, and Heaven 
 only knows what it cost a man of my temperament 
 to consent to such a sacrifice of my tastes and aspira 
 tions ! Was that the act of an undutiful son and of 
 a bad man ? Thus I became a farmer to please my 
 father, and what was not so creditable, I became a 
 pettifogger, for I had to play a part in innumerable 
 lawsuits which he contrived to have with his neigh 
 bors and his tenants. 
 
 " In these conjunctures, having been sent on busi 
 ness by my father to this city, I fell in love with 
 Emilie de Marignane, whose family you all know. 
 Was it wrong in me to wish to be married ? Was it 
 not a proof that I wished to escape from my licen 
 tious habits? My father refused, on the ground that 
 I was too bad a subject for matrimony. The marri 
 age took place, however, and, as neither the family of
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. j 35 
 
 my wife, nor my own, supplied us with the means of 
 living according to our rank, the consequence was 
 that I became involved in debt, and conjugal difficul 
 ties and quarrels ensued in our pinched household, 
 as it generally happens in such cases. My father, had 
 he entertained any compassion for my youthful inex 
 perience, could easily have extricated me from my 
 troubles. What did he do ? He obtained a lettre de 
 cachet against me, and had me exiled to the chateau de 
 Mirabeau, and subsequently to the town of Manosque. 
 While thus exiled, and confined by order of the govern 
 ment within the limits of a small town as a prison, I 
 ventured on a temporary absence from it, which I hoped 
 would not be noticed. It was an imprudence, but 
 surely it was not a crime. What was the cause of 
 that imprudence ? Was it anything for which I have 
 to blush ? No. I had gone to the neighboring town 
 of Grasse to see a cherished sister, Madam de Cabris, 
 who happened to be there on a visit. Whilst I was 
 with her, she was insulted. I challenged the offender, 
 who had the cowardice to refuse to meet me. I caned 
 him. The fellow brought suit against me, and ob 
 tained an order of court to have me arrested and 
 tried criminally. What did my father do ? Did he 
 sanction my attempt to defend the honor of his 
 daughter and family? No. He procured against me 
 another lettre de cachet, and had me locked up in the 
 chateau D'If. Mr. d'Allgre, the commandant of that 
 fortress, interested himself in my behalf as soon as 
 he knew me. After a little while, he wrote to my 
 father a letter, in which he commended my resigna 
 tion and good conduct, and solicited him to set me 
 free. What was the result of an application which 
 did honor to the heart and judgment of the gentle-
 
 1 36 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 man who made it? My father, far from listening 
 with favor to my praise, but in order to remove me 
 from the atmosphere of kindness and consideration 
 which he supposed I had secured for my comfort, had 
 me transferred to another fortress, that of Joux, near 
 Pontarlier. 
 
 " There again my deportment so captivated the good 
 will of the Count de St. Maurice, who commanded 
 the fortress, that he permitted me to have Pontarlier 
 for a prison, and he himself introduced me into the 
 best society of that town. I then wrote to my wife to 
 come to me with my son, but there had been between 
 us, as I have already said, when I was laboring under 
 financial distress, some of those differences which, 
 under such circumstances, frequently visit the con 
 jugal roof. I was still miserably poor, and it is not 
 astonishing that she refused, under different pretexts, 
 to share my fate. I do not blame her. Heroic de 
 votion and sacrifices are not things to be expected in 
 the common run of human affairs. She probably 
 acted wisely ; but bear in mind, however, that I in 
 vited her to come to me, and that she refused. It 
 was then that I became acquainted with the Marquise 
 de Monnier, a charming young woman who had been 
 forced into the arms of a septuagenarian husband. 
 What happened is but too well known. The marquis 
 instituted against me a criminal prosecution for hav 
 ing seduced his wife ; and my father, according to 
 his chronic habit of treating me harshly, solicited a 
 lettre de cachet to have me confined in the citadel of 
 Dourlens. Under the pressure of such dangers, I 
 fled to Switzerland, where the marquise soon joined 
 me. From Switzerland we went to Holland, where 
 I hid myself and assumed the name of St. Mathieu.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. i^j 
 
 In the meantime, on the complaint and at the re 
 quest of the offended husband, I was condemned to 
 death in France by default, executed in effigy, and 
 all that I possessed was confiscated. I had hoped to 
 be forgotten in Holland, where, to earn a precarious 
 living for the object of my love and for myself, I 
 worked without interruption in a garret from six 
 o'clock in the morning until nine in the evening. I 
 was a miserable drudge hired by booksellers, and I 
 manufactured books according to their directions. I 
 was even preparing to embark for free America, when 
 my father, armed with the authority of one of those 
 lettres de cachet, of which his pockets were always full, 
 caused the law of nations and the sanctity of a for 
 eign and independent territory to be violated, and, 
 having procured my arrest through the instrumental 
 ity of some French police officers, had me incarcer 
 ated in the dungeon of Vincennes, where I remained 
 four years ! 
 
 " When I was restored to liberty, what did I do ? 
 I was poor and without a friend, and Sophie, Mar 
 quise de Monnier, who had suffered so much for me, 
 was a prisoner in a convent. In our joint interest I 
 went to Pontarlier to cause to be revoked the sen 
 tence pronounced against us, condemning her to re- 
 elusion in a cloister, and me, to lose my head on the 
 scaffold. On the day of the trial, I appeared before 
 the tribunal with a lock of her hair on my breast to 
 inspire me, and a dose of active poison in my pocket, 
 to put an end to my existence if I failed to have us 
 both re-established in our civil rights. It was not 
 even possible for me to secure the services of one 
 single member of the bar. I stood before my judges 
 without that professional assistance which is always
 
 138 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 vouchsafed to the accused, and I confronted my ene 
 mies alone, penniless, friendless, and in chains. It is 
 reported, however, that I pleaded my own cause with 
 stupendous eloquence and energy. I struck terror 
 into my adversaries, I melted a prejudiced audience 
 into tears, and the result was, a compromise between 
 the Marquis de Monnier and myself, by which all 
 the proceedings against me were withdrawn and an 
 nulled, and his wife obtained the restitution of her 
 dowry and her liberty. Was this the conduct of a 
 cowardly monster? I had been, it is true, the author 
 of a great scandal, but did I not cruelly suffer for it ? 
 And did I not try to repair it as much as was in my 
 power? After having acted toward Madam de 
 Monnier as it was my duty to do, I turned to my 
 wife, and again made repeated efforts to bring her 
 back to my arms. ' Eight years have elapsed/ I 
 wrote to her, ' since we were separated. They have 
 sobered my evil passions, ripened my judgment, and 
 improved my morals. It is with difficulty that I 
 shall believe that eight years of incessant adversity, 
 which would be a sacred title to the compassion of 
 any kind and benevolent heart, have driven me from 
 yours.' My wife, however, resisted all the appeals that 
 I made to her, but so anxious was I to resume those 
 conjugal duties which, in better days, I had sworn 
 and failed to fulfill, that I applied to the tribunals of 
 the country to compel Madam de Mirabeau to return 
 to my domicile and protection. My efforts were vain, 
 it is true, and a final separation was pronounced be 
 tween us. But then, let it be no longer said that I 
 have not done all that I could to repair the wrongs 
 of which I had been guilty. 
 
 " The greater portion of my life has been spent in
 
 A UBEK T D UBA YE T. 
 
 139 
 
 captivity and in sorrow, in incredible destitution and 
 intense labor. I am one of the most prolific writers of 
 Ihe age, although I have reached only the meridian 
 of life. I spare you the long list of my publications. 
 Those of my works which treat of financial, historical, 
 and political subjects, and in which, under the eye 
 and within the hearing of despotism, I have been 
 the boldest advocate of liberty and liberal institu 
 tions, have gained for me a reputation of which I 
 may well be proud." 
 
 " And your infamous novels ! " cried a voice from 
 the crowd. " What do you say of them ? " 
 
 Mirabeau paused, and looking at the point in the 
 assembly from which the interruption had sprung, 
 said with a tone and a gesture of dignified courtesy : 
 " Whoever he may be, who has thus apostrophized 
 me, I thank him for it, because it gives me a fit op 
 portunity to denounce and reprobate those works 
 which he rightly denominates infamous. I wish I 
 could efface with my blood every line of them. To 
 have composed them, is the only act of my life of 
 which I am disposed to repent in ashes and sackcloth. 
 There is no justification for it ; but there may be an 
 excuse, or rather a sort of palliation. She who had 
 sacrificed so much for me was starving without a 
 murmur in a foreign land ; and the tempter, in the 
 shape of a bookseller, said to me : ' Here is bread ; 
 but, in exchange for it, you must give me licentious 
 and sensational novels which will sell.' You have the 
 whole story, on my honor; and you have also the as 
 surance of my sincere contrition and repentance. I 
 hope that I shall make amends for my guilt, by the 
 services which I have the consciousness of rendering 
 one day to France and to humanity."
 
 1 40 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Mirabcau paused again, and seemed to look thought 
 fully back into the depths of his memory, to ascertain 
 if he had forgotten any one of the many accusations 
 brought against him, and then resumed his discourse 
 in these words: " I believe that I have made to you 
 a full confession, on which I invite you to pass judg 
 ment, and to decide whether I am too depraved to 
 be your representative in that great assembly which 
 is soon to convene, and on which will hang the des 
 tinies of France. When the nobles of Provence met 
 to deliberate on the choice of their delegates to the 
 States-General and on the instructions to be given to 
 them, being one of their order, I thought that it was 
 my duty to join their meeting, to show myself among 
 my peers, with the intention of urging them to a 
 course of action which would have been conducive 
 to their own interests and to those of the people at 
 large, of whom they could easily have become the bene 
 factors, instead of being the oppressors. I wanted to 
 tell them that the patience of the people had held out 
 during centuries, but that it was now exhausted to the 
 last drop. I had intended to recommend the volun 
 tary abolition on their part of the absurd and hateful 
 privileges which they possess, and which are incom 
 patible with the progressive civilization of the age. 
 But they spared me the trouble ; they declared that 
 I was too immoral and too much of a free-thinker to 
 be admitted and recognized as one of their immacu 
 late body. Very well ! I accepted their decision. 
 But, if I had ceased to be a nobleman, what was I ? 
 Surely they could not have made me a mere non 
 entity. I was a sentient being, and entitled as such, 
 I thought, to be something appertaining to human 
 nature, however humble and insignificant that some-
 
 A UBER T D USA YET. 14 1 
 
 thing might be. If no longer Count de Mirabeau, I 
 remained at least Mirabeau the man Mirabeau the 
 plebeian. I, therefore, acted immediately in accord 
 ance with my new position in society. Opening a 
 shop in your city, I wrote on its front: 'Mirabeau, 
 Draper, and casting aside the purple mantle of the 
 patrician, I stand before you, in the garb and char 
 acter of a cloth merchant, a candidate for your 
 suffrages, with the hope, if I obtain them, of being 
 acknowledged before long and proclaimed the tribune 
 of the people in the States-General of France. 
 
 " I will now sum up, in conclusion, this review of my 
 life which I have laid before you without conceal 
 ment. I think that, judging of it impartially, I can 
 say : no doubt my youth was a stormy one. I have, 
 through the fault of others, and particularly through 
 my own, committed many errors. Few men, in their 
 private life, have offered a fairer opportunity and 
 more plausible and abundant pretexts for calumny to 
 seize upon their acts, and add darker shades to their 
 dark sides ; but I dare assert here, that no one who 
 aspires to be a public man, has a better right than I 
 have to claim the possession of courageous senti 
 ments, disinterested views, stern independence of 
 character, and uniform inflexibility of principles. My 
 errors, my qualities, and my defects, my reverses and 
 my successes, have equally contributed to fit me to be 
 the champion of liberty. I have learned, practically 
 and theoretically, to love her and to hate despotism, 
 in the dungeon of Vincennes and in the different 
 fortresses where I was arbitrarily confined so many 
 years. I challenge all and every one here to desig 
 nate, if they can, one single act, line, or speech of 
 mine, when either free or in captivity, which does not
 
 1 42 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 show a grand and energetic love of liberty. And 
 could it be otherwise ? I count fifty-four lettres de 
 cachet issued during my lifetime against members of 
 my family, of which seventeen were to my address. 
 But if the love of liberty has been to me the source 
 of more than one keen and deep-felt enjoyment, I 
 must confess that it has also inflicted exquisite tor 
 ments, which it is now neither the proper place nor 
 the opportune time to explain. Such as they are, I 
 have cheerfully accepted them. It is not to-day that 
 1 have to learn that he who aspires to benefit the 
 human race, must be prepared, in secret, or in public, 
 for the agony of inevitable martyrdom. 
 
 " One reproach to me, fellow-citizens, I must notice. 
 It is said that I am proud. Aye, I am proud proud 
 of the consciousness of my courage, of my strength, 
 of the rectitude of my intentions proud even of the 
 injustices and persecutions of which I have been the 
 object ; and I confess that I am but little humiliated 
 by my innumerable faults and defects, because they do 
 not, after all, in any way cast a stain on my honor. 
 
 " The nobles who rejected me as unworthy of be 
 longing to their body, now call me the plebeian count. 
 I accept the title ; and, so help me God, I will make 
 them remember it forever. Let them know that the 
 exile they have cast off like a wandering beggar, has 
 found hospitality and fraternity among those hewers 
 of wood and drawers of water who are the objects of 
 their contempt, and that no Coriolanus will ever have 
 shown himself a more valuable and grateful guest to 
 those whose tents afforded him shelter! Let those 
 nobles know that, henceforth, between them and me 
 there is an impassable gulf ; for the king is their mas- 
 ter, and the people are mine ; let them send to the
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. j^ -j 
 
 States-General the best and the proudest knight they 
 can find in their ranks, as the representative of their 
 privileged class ! I will meet him there without fear, 
 as the representative of the unprivileged masses, and 
 fling at the feet of despotism the gauntlet of liberty." 
 Here he was interrupted by a hurricane of clamorous 
 applause. When it died away, " Fellow-citizens," he 
 said, " in all countries and in all ages, the aristocrats 
 have implacably hunted down the friends of the peo 
 ple ; and if, by some fortunate and unaccountable 
 circumstance or accident, there arose one out of their 
 own privileged order, it is he at whom they have 
 struck with more vigorous hatred, thereby showing 
 their eagerness and avidity to inspire terror by the se 
 lection of the victim whom they deemed it sound 
 policy to immolate to the necessity of self-defense. 
 Thus died the last of the Gracchi from patrician 
 hands. But, having fallen under the mortal blow, he 
 grasped a handful of the dust of the ground on which 
 his noble form was prostrate, and, flinging it toward 
 heaven, he invoked the vengeance of the gods. Of 
 that dust was born the plebeian Marius Marius! 
 less great for having exterminated the Cimbri, than 
 for having crushed in Rome the aristocracy of the 
 nobility." Peals after peals of thundering acclama 
 tions proved to the orator that he had struck the 
 right chord. 
 
 " Fellow-citizens," he continued, " I am informed 
 that the governor of this province, the Marquis de 
 Caraman, a dear kinsman of mine, by-the-by, at the 
 request of the nobility, who think that they see in me 
 a second Marius, intends to have me secretly kid 
 napped and carried to the East Indies. Let him 
 dare ! "
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 " Let him dare ! " shouted the infuriated multitude, 
 with ferocious gesticulations. " Down with all the 
 nobles !" 
 
 A grim smile flitted over the lips of Mirabeau. 
 " He will not dare ! " he said ; " resume your com 
 posure. I have no more to say beyond giving you 
 the assurance that, if you think me worthy of being 
 your representative, and send me to the States-Gen 
 eral, I, Honore Gabriel Riquetti de Mirabeau, nick 
 named the plebeian count, solemnly pledge myself be 
 fore God and man, that, following the example of 
 Marius in Rome, I will level to the ground in Ver 
 sailles the aristocracy of France ; that I will wipe out 
 every vestige of feudality from the fair bosom of our 
 mother-land ; and that I will establish the equality, 
 fraternity, and liberty which we all desire, on the 
 broad basis of national prosperity." There was a 
 rush of the people toward the platform with a roar 
 like that of the ocean. The orator was taken up in 
 their arms, carried in triumph all round the public 
 square, and then to his residence. Not only was he 
 elected by the city of Aix, the old capital of Provence, 
 but also by Marseilles, which the echo of that eloquent 
 voice had reached, and he had to choose between the 
 two. It was Aix the scene of his first triumph. 
 
 Before' leaving Aix, Aubert Dubayet had the good 
 fortune to be introduced to Mirabeau, who seemed to 
 take great pleasure in conversing with him on Amer 
 ican affairs. Dubayet complimented him on his ora- 
 torial success and expressed his admiration. " Pshaw, 
 pshaw!" said Mirabeau; "it was all nonsense and 
 clap-trap. But come to Versailles, wait until I have 
 taken my seat in the States-General, and then you 
 will hear something worthy of being remembered."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 REPUBLICANISM AND ROYALISM THE RED CAP 
 AND THE BASTILE. 
 
 A SHORT time after this interview with Mirabeau, 
 Aubert Dubayet went to Versailles to witness the in 
 auguration of the States-General. The first man he 
 met was Lakanal, who had hastened from Toulouse 
 to be present at the accomplishment of that great 
 event. The two friends embraced each other ten 
 derly. " What news ? " asked Lakanal. " What news 
 from America in particular ? For I know that you 
 keep up an active correspondence with that country." 
 
 " Well," answered Dubayet, " they are going on as 
 smoothly as might be expected under a new and un 
 tried form of government. Many look forward to 
 unparalleled prosperity and liberty with the most 
 buoyant confidence. Many, on the other hand, have 
 doubts and apprehensions." 
 
 " Incredible ! " exclaimed Lakanal. " I have read 
 and closely studied their federal constitution. It 
 seems perfection itself." 
 
 " To you, no doubt, my friend, with your imagina 
 tive and ardent temperament," said Dubayet. " Be 
 sides, distance lends enchantment to the scene. But 
 the Americans are a practical, sagacious, and cool- 
 headed people. Remember that the constitution, 
 about which you think there can be but one opinion, 
 has met with violent opposition from a host of those 
 7
 
 1 46 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 who were to live under its protecting shield. It be 
 came the subject of the fiercest discussions in the 
 general assembly which framed it and in the State con 
 ventions. Do not forget that only three insignificant 
 States, New Jersey, Delaware, and Georgia, accepted 
 it unanimously, and that several of the most impor 
 tant States adopted it by a mere majority ; five of them 
 under an expressed expectation of specified amend 
 ments or modifications, while two States, Rhode Island 
 and North Carolina, stood aloof a long time." 
 
 "Good God! What can be the objections ?" ex 
 claimed Lakanal. 
 
 " It would be too long to enumerate them," replied 
 Dubayet. " Suffice it to say, that some feared that 
 the Federal Government would have too little control 
 over the individual States, and that their political con 
 nection would prove too weak to preserve order, pre 
 vent civil strife, and insure the duration of the repub 
 lic ; whilst others thought that it would be too strong 
 for their separate existence, and would tend toward 
 consolidation and despotism. Such diametrically an 
 tagonistic opinions are, as you see, entirely irrecon 
 cilable. Time will show which is right." 
 
 Lakanal shook his fist with wrath. " I am disap 
 pointed in the Americans," he said. " If they had 
 chopped off the heads of a few leading traitors, it 
 would have been a salutary warning to the rest, and 
 things would have worked more harmoniously. But, 
 on the contrary, they have encouraged those aristo 
 crats by bestowing on them some of the highest offices 
 within their gift. I, in their place, would have cut off 
 the heads of Alexander Hamilton and John Adams." 
 
 " Softly, softly," interposed Dubayet. " To cut off 
 men's heads is not the best way to convince them of
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 
 
 their errors. It is rather a strange sort of eccentricity 
 to kill people in order to teach them how to live and 
 to improve. Surely, this is not what you will pre 
 sume to call Christianity and republicanism. Besides, 
 you are unjust to Alexander Hamilton and to John 
 Adams. Both are staunch lovers of liberty and inflex 
 ible advocates of the rights of man, although not so 
 incandescent and so ultra as you are. It is true that, 
 in the Philadelphia convention, Alexander Hamilton 
 held up the British constitution as a model to be ap 
 proached as nearly as possible, by blending some of 
 the advantages of monarchy with the republican form. 
 It is true that he thinks that the constitution finally 
 adopted is too low-toned ; it is true that he fears it 
 may prove feeble and inefficient ; but still, as a great 
 statesman, which he undoubtedly is, he voted for it as 
 the best attainable under existing circumstances, ad 
 vocated it in the convention of his own State, and 
 supported it in a series of essays, written conjunctively 
 with Madison and Jay, and collectively known as the 
 ' Federalist ' an admirable work, which, by-the-by, I 
 advise you to procure and to study attentively. You 
 must also bear in mind that it was mainly through 
 his efforts, as a speaker and writer, that the constitu 
 tion which you appreciate so warmly was ultimately 
 adopted. I admit that many still consider him a 
 monarchist at heart, and suspect him of a design to 
 substitute royalty for the present form of government; 
 but I think that in this supposition they do him in 
 justice. He may doubt the healthful realization of 
 republican theories, but I am convinced that he wishes 
 to give them a fair trial, as long as there may be any 
 chance of success." 
 
 " Very well," said Lakanal, " but I hope that you
 
 148 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 will at least give up that uncouth compound of the 
 plebeian born and of the would-be patrician that 
 puritanic worshipper of aristocracy yclept John 
 Adams. Have I not read with my own eyes his ad 
 vice to Washington as to the stately forms which he 
 wishes to be introduced in the performance of the 
 functions of President? Does he not talk glibly of 
 chamberlains, aides-de-camp, masters of ceremonies, 
 and the like gilded gewgaws ? " And he drew from his 
 pocket a journal from which he read : " ' The office of 
 President,' thus writes John Adams, ' by its legal au 
 thority defined in the constitution, has no equal in the 
 world, excepting those only which are held by crowned 
 heads ; nor is the royal authority in all cases to be 
 compared to it. The royal office in Poland is a mere 
 shadow in comparison with it. The dogeship in 
 Venice and the stadtholdership in Holland are not 
 so much. Neither dignity nor authority can be sup 
 ported in human minds collected into nations, or any 
 great numbers, without a splendor and majesty in 
 some degree proportioned to them. The sending and 
 receiving of ambassadors is one of the most splendid 
 and important prerogatives of sovereigns, absolute or 
 limited, and this in our constitution is wholly in the 
 President. If the state and pomp essential to this 
 great department are not in a good degree preserved, 
 it will be in vain for America to hope for consideration 
 with foreign powers.' 
 
 " This is the impeachment I bring against him," 
 continued Lakanal. " I now wait for your defense of 
 the culprit I have arraigned." 
 
 " Go on," said Dubayet, " and read in the same 
 journal that part of the writing in which Adams in 
 genuously confesses that 'his long residence abroad
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 may have impressed him with views of things incom 
 patible with the present temper and feelings of his 
 countrymen,' and it is not, therefore, astonishing that 
 Jefferson should have said of that great son of Massa 
 chusetts, 'that* the glare of royalty and nobility, dur-. 
 ing his mission to England, had made him believe 
 their fascination a necessary ingredient in govern 
 ment.' But this does not prevent him from retaining 
 the confidence of the people, and his merits are such 
 that some allowance may well be made for trifling 
 errors of judgment. Some irregularities of movements 
 are observed even in the celestial bodies which adorn 
 the vault of heaven, and yet do they cease for all that 
 to be those luminous orbs at which we gaze with so 
 much wonder?" 
 
 "The man to my taste," said Lakanal, "is Thomas 
 Jefferson. He is a true patriot and republican. I 
 heard him say : ' The termsf of Excellency, Honor, 
 Worship, Esquire, should forever disappear from 
 among us. I wish that of Mr. would follow them.' 
 This I thought worthy of the best days of Rome, 
 and I suggested that there should be no other prefix 
 to names than that of citizen : ' Citizen Brutus, citi 
 zen Cassius, and citizen Jefferson.' He tapped me 
 on the shoulder approvingly." 
 
 Aubert Dubayet smiled. " I have no doubt," he 
 said, " that citizen Jefferson will contrive in due time 
 to be President of the United States." 
 
 " Amen ! " responded Lakanal, and the two friends 
 parted. 
 
 Aubert Dubayet called on Tintin Calandro, who, 
 
 * Jefferson's Works, vol. ix., p. 97. 
 
 t Letter to Mr. Carmichael, JelTerson's Works, vol. iii., p. 88.
 
 150 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 to his utter amazement, received him with some as 
 perity of manner. " What is the matter?" inquired 
 Dubayet, with tears in his eyes. " How can I have 
 offended you ? " 
 
 " Excuse me," said Tintin. "I am laboring under 
 the effect of intense indignation. I can hardly for 
 give you for the part you have taken in establishing 
 this new republic of America, which will become for 
 the whole world worse than Pandora's box. Like the 
 simoon, it will wither and level to the ground all that 
 is noble and respected. What do you think I heard 
 last night ? The princess de Lamballe had the kind 
 ness to lend her musicians to Thomas Jefferson, the 
 minister plenipotentiary of the republic, to perform 
 at a festival which he gave. During one of those in 
 tervals when the orchestra was not called to play, I 
 sauntered into the garden of the mansion, and I hap 
 pened to be behind an arbor when the minister came 
 with his secretary of legation, Colonel Humphreys, 
 whom he was sending to Washington as bearer of 
 dispatches, and who was to depart at day-break. He 
 stopped near the spot where I was, and I heard him 
 say, among other things, to the colonel, on dismissing 
 him : ' Tell * our friends at home to besiege the throne 
 of Heaven with eternal prayers to extirpate from 
 creation this class of human lions, tigers, and mam 
 moths, called kings, from whom, let him perish who 
 does not say, good Lord deliver us.' What do you 
 think of that? Saint Louis was a tiger; Isabella 
 the Catholic and Blanche of Castile were hyenas ; 
 Titus and Marcus Aurelius were lions, and our own 
 magnanimous Henry IV. a mammoth, because Provi- 
 
 * Jefferson's Letter to Colonel Humphreys.
 
 A USER T D UBA YET. ! 5 ! 
 
 dence destined them to be kings, emperors, and 
 queens. They ought to have been exterminated to 
 make way, I presume, to such blessings as this sacri 
 legious demagogue would shower upon the world ; 
 and all those who do not agree in opinion with this 
 precious apostle of a new political religion ought to 
 perish. So says Thomas Jefferson, the immaculate 
 and the infallible, and the whip-in-hand democratic 
 driver of a gang of poor black slaves who toil and breed 
 for his exclusive benefit ! Here is humility, humanity, 
 and liberty for you with a vengeance ! Accursed be 
 that whelp of Satan ! Accursed be that fiend, drunk 
 on the fumes of his own ferocious and inordinate 
 pride ! I wish I could chain him forever at the bot 
 tom of the deepest and darkest dungeon of Christen 
 dom ! " 
 
 "Alas! " exclaimed Dubayet, pressing his incensed 
 friend in his arms, " what a future I foresee for France ! 
 I have just left the republican Lakanal. He talks of 
 nothing but cutting off heads, and you, a royalist, 
 would doom your opponents to the tender mercies of 
 a Bastile. You are both the striking types of a popu 
 lation whose one half seeks liberty without knowing 
 what it is, and whose other half strives to retain what 
 it would be but justice and good policy to abandon."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SCENES IN THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY OF FRANCE 
 MIRABEAU TAKES THE LEAD HIS INTERVIEW 
 WITH MORRIS, THE MINISTER PLENIPOTENTIA 
 RY OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 LOUIS XVI. opened the States-General at Ver 
 sailles on the 5th of May, 1789. But the nobility, the 
 clergy, and the commons, of which they were com 
 posed as three distinct orders, refused to meet as pre 
 scribed, and failed to work harmoniously. The com 
 mons, who were the most numerous and felt them 
 selves the most powerful, determined to proceed with 
 their task without the other orders, should these re 
 fuse to meet them in a one and single assembly. 
 They further resolved to adopt another name than 
 that of States-General, which, in their opinion, was 
 no longer applicable. Mirabeau proposed that they 
 should call themselves " representatives of the peo 
 ple." This word people was the object of acrimonious 
 discussions. 
 
 "I care very little," said Mirabeau, on that occa 
 sion, "about the signification of words in the absurd 
 vocabulary of prejudice. I have tried to speak here 
 the language of liberty, and I relied on the example 
 given by the English and the Americans, who have 
 always honored the word people, and who have al 
 ways consecrated it in their declarations of rights, in 
 (152)
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. ! 53 
 
 their laws, and in their political institutions. When 
 Chatham condensed into one word the charter of na 
 tions and said : ' The majesty of the people '/ when the 
 Americans asserted the natural rights of the people in 
 opposition to the trashy disquisitions of superannu 
 ated publicists, they acknowledged and proclaimed 
 all the signification, all the energy of that expression, 
 to which liberty gives so much value. Are you afraid 
 that it may be construed into the meaning of the 
 Latin word vulgus, instead of populus, or the English 
 word mob, or what, in our own language, all aristo 
 crats, whether noble or not, insolently call the can 
 aille f 
 
 " Representatives of the people, will you deign to 
 answer me this question? Will you go back to your 
 constituents and tell them that you have repudiated 
 and ostracised the name people, which belongs to you 
 all in common? Will you confess that, if you have 
 not been ashamed of them, you have tried, however, 
 to elude an appellation which is too low for your ac 
 ceptance ? Will you declare that you covet a more 
 brilliant denomination than the one which they have 
 conferred upon you ? Do you not see that the name 
 of ' representatives of the people ' is necessary to you, 
 because it endears you to the people that imposing 
 mass without which you would only be individualities 
 and fragile rods that would be broken one by one ? 
 Do you not see that you need the name people, be 
 cause it will make it known to the people that you 
 have indissolubly bound your fate to theirs, and be 
 cause it will teach them to look on you as the sole 
 objects of their thoughts and their hopes? 
 
 " More skillful than we are, the Batavian heroes 
 who won and established the liberty and independ- 
 7*
 
 I 54 A USER T DUB A YET. 
 
 ence of their country, took the name of beggars. 
 They wanted no other name, because their tyrants 
 had contemptuously pretended to degrade them with 
 it, and that name, endearing them to that immense 
 mass which aristocracy and despotism loved to vilify, 
 was at the same time their strength, their glory, and 
 the guaranty of their success. The friends of liberty 
 choose the name which serves them the best, and not 
 the one which flatters them the most. They will call 
 themselves malcontents in America, cowboys in Swit 
 zerland, and beggars in the Low Countries. They will 
 adorn themselves with the injurious designations with 
 which they are reproved by their enemies ; they will 
 thus deprive those enemies of the power of humiliat 
 ing them with expressions which they will know how 
 to change into titles of honor ! " 
 
 These sentiments were received with shouts of de 
 rision and disapprobation from several sides of the 
 Assembly, and from many of the spectators in the gal 
 leries. " Down with the demagogue ! " cried one. 
 " Send him to harangue in the fish market," cried an 
 other. Vociferations followed vociferations, and the 
 confusion reached its height. " Silence ! " thundered 
 Mirabeau, in the commanding tone of a master. 
 " Silence ! Learn to discuss with calmness and with 
 freedom, if you wish to be free. I assume the whole 
 responsibility of what I have said. If there is any 
 guilt in my speech, welcome be the trial, the judg 
 ment, and the punishment ! I will write down, sign, 
 and leave recorded on the desk of the President of 
 this Assembly every word that has fallen from my 
 lips." 
 
 After several days of stormy debates, the Third 
 Estate, or Commons, adopted the name of " National 
 Assembly."
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 155 
 
 The proceedings of the Assembly were thought by 
 the king to encroach on the royal prerogative, and he 
 ordered them in person to vacate the room which 
 they occupied, to cease to call themselves the " Na 
 tional Assembly," and to form themselves, in con 
 junction with the nobility and clergy, into the States- 
 General originally convened, each order deliberating 
 and voting in separate chambers. The king was list 
 ened to in profound silence. On his departure, some 
 members of the nobility and clergy who had joined 
 the assembly followed him, but the true representa 
 tives of the people, the commoners, remained motion 
 less and calm in their seats. The Marquis de Dreux 
 Br6ze, grand master of ceremonies, amazed at their 
 disobedience, approached the President and said : 
 " Gentlemen, you have heard the intentions of the 
 king." Mirabeau rose, and replied with an inimitable 
 dignity of tone and manner: 
 
 " Yes, Sir, we have heard the intentions which have 
 been suggested to the king. But you, who can not 
 be his organ before the National Assembly, you who 
 have here neither a seat, nor a vote, nor the right of 
 speech, are not qualified to put us in mind of the 
 royal address. Nevertheless, to avoid all equivoca 
 tion or delay, I declare to you that, if you have been 
 authorized to make us leave this hall of our delibera 
 tions, you must ask for orders to employ force. Go, 
 and tell your master that we are here by the power 
 of the people, and that we can be driven hence only 
 by the power of bayonets." 
 
 " Such are the sentiments of the Assembly," spon 
 taneously shouted all his colleagues. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the abbe Sieyes, " we are to-day 
 what we were yesterday. Let us proceed with our 
 deliberations."
 
 156 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 From that solemn hour Mirabeau was the leader of 
 the Assembly and the most conspicuous man in 
 France. He became the idol of the people and the 
 terror of the court. One after the other the pillars 
 that supported the ancient monarchy went down 
 under the thunderbolts which he hurled with an un 
 sparing hand. His eloquence was irresistible, his in 
 dustry indefatigable. On the 8th of July, he de 
 manded the formation of a national guard, and, on 
 the Qth, he caused to be adopted by the Assembly an 
 address to the king for the removal of the troops who 
 surrounded the legislative hall which address was 
 pronounced to be a master-piece of composition, and 
 to possess all the excellencies of the highest order of 
 style. A few days after, the Bastile was taken by the 
 populace of Paris, and a revolution inaugurated. On 
 the king having notified the Assembly of his intention 
 to visit them, Mirabeau rose, and said in his most im 
 pressive manner: " Let a mute and mournful respect 
 be the welcome given to the monarch ; let kings find 
 a lesson in the silence with which they are met by 
 their subjects." On the i6th, he proposed an address 
 to the king asking for the dismissal of his ministers. 
 On the 25th, he spoke with much warmth of feeling 
 against the post-office violation of letters, " whatever 
 might be the authority which ordered or sanctioned 
 an act so infamous." Those who knew the Sardan- 
 apalian excesses in which he never ceased to indulge, 
 even in the midst of his intense labors, did not un 
 derstand where he could find the time, and how he 
 could retain sufficient strength of body and mind, to 
 perform the Herculean task he had assumed. For 
 him there seemed to be no rest and no sleep ; from 
 the lap of voluptuousness he was always prompt to
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 spring up for action, fully equipped, never enervated 
 by his orgies, and ever ready to bear down any oppo 
 sition or obstacle with the club of his massive intellect. 
 
 Aubert Dubayet had been a constant attendant at 
 all the sittings of the National Assembly. One day, 
 when he was going out arm in arm with Mirabeau, 
 " Well," said the latter personage, " what do you think 
 of the tribune whom you heard for the first time at 
 Aix?" 
 
 " I think," answered Dubayet, " that he has grown 
 into the most formidable of Titans." 
 
 "Ah! ah!" exclaimed Mirabeau, evidently well 
 pleased, " and that Titan will soon escalade Heaven. 
 Such men as I am do not stop half way." 
 
 " Beware of Jove's thunderbolts." 
 
 " Pshaw ! They are said, you know, to glance off 
 harmlessly from laurels, and I shall take care to se 
 cure a sufficient supply of them to protect the mighty 
 head which is destined to govern France. But, who 
 is coming toward us ? Is it not Mr. Gouverneur Mor 
 ris, one of the ablest and most influential patriots of 
 America, who has lately arrived here, bearing letters 
 of introduction from Washington to distinguished 
 persons in England, France, and Holland? I suppose 
 that the President of the United States wishes to be 
 correctly informed of what is passing on this side of 
 the Atlantic, and has deputed, to that effect, an agent 
 who enjoys his unlimited confidence. I am curious to 
 hear what he has to say on our proceedings. You know 
 him, of course ; please to introduce me." 
 
 This was done as he desired. After a mutual ex 
 change of civilities, Mirabeau said to Morris: " I hope, 
 Sir, that like all Americans, you compliment us on 
 our revolution."
 
 158 A UBERT DUB A YET. 
 
 " I hesitate, count," was the reply.* " Your nobles, 
 your clergy, your people, are in motion. A spirit 
 which has been dormant for generations starts up and 
 stares about, ignorant of the means of obtaining, but 
 evidently desirous to possess, its object ; consequently 
 active, energetic, easily led, but also easily, too easily 
 misled. Such is the instinctive love of freedom which 
 now grows warm in the bosom of your country. But 
 I doubt whether you are not rushing too fast toward 
 a state of things for which you are not prepared. Even 
 Lafayette, prudent as he is, appears to me too repub 
 lican for the genius of his country." 
 
 "Allow me to differ with you on this point," re 
 plied Mirabeau. " Lafayette is not too republican 
 at present, I assure you. I know his views. He is now 
 for a constitutional monarchy, approaching as near as 
 possible that of Great Britain. But he is a weak man, 
 too fond of popularity and newspaper flattery, and he 
 may become too much of a republican in the course 
 of time. He is not a leader, however, nor ever will 
 be, whatever the appearances are to the contrary. Such 
 men are made to follow ; or, if they are followed, it 
 is only after the fashion of an adopted flag; its value 
 consists merely in its being emblematic." 
 
 " Lafayette and I," continued Morris, " are rather 
 somewhat apart in our system of politics. He agrees 
 better, I think, with Mr. Jefferson than with me, 
 although he is not prepared to go as far as his friend 
 in his democratic ideas. Still he, with all the other 
 leaders of the liberal party here for, with due defer- 
 ence to the opinion you have just expressed, I beg 
 
 * Morris' letter, 23d of February, 1789, to the French ministei 
 residing in New York.
 
 A USER T D UBA YET. 1 59 
 
 leave to consider him a leader is desirous, I say, of 
 annihilating all distinctions of order. How far such 
 views may be right, respecting mankind in general, is, 
 I think, extremely problematical. But, with regard 
 to your nation, I am sure it is wrong, and can not 
 eventuate well."* 
 
 " I agree with you," said Mirabeau. " But those 
 leaders you speak of shall not be allowed to have full 
 sway, although I am sorry to say that they are urged 
 on in their mad course by foreigners of distinction and 
 influence who have but too much weight with them. 
 For instance, that crack-brained and presumptuous 
 fellow, Thomas Payne, who is now on a visit to your 
 States, and your own countryman, Thomas Jefferson, 
 who, by the by, is a man of a far superior calibre to 
 that of his compeer in their partnership of demolition 
 and Utopian reconstruction, are dangerous mischief- 
 makers, and as active among our ultras as the most 
 senseless of them all. This Thomas Payne has lately 
 thought proper, forsooth, to pat me on the shoulder 
 and approve some of my acts ; and, by the way of en 
 couragement, I presume, has sent me this extract from 
 a letter addressed to him by Jefferson on the nth 
 of July, and in which this ambassador of yours re 
 views the proceedings of our Assembly. Permit me 
 to read it ; I happen to have it at hand : 
 
 " ' The National Assembly,' says Jefferson, ' having 
 shown through every stage of their transactions, cool 
 ness, wisdom, and resolution to set fire to the four 
 corners of the kingdom, and to perish with it them 
 selves, rather than relinquish an iota from their plan 
 of a total change of government, are now in complete 
 
 ; " Life of Gouverneur Morris," vol. i., p. 313.
 
 l6o * UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 and undisputed possession of the sovereignty. The 
 executive and aristocracy are at their feet ; the mass 
 of the nation, the mass of the clergy and the army are 
 with them ; they have prostrated the old government 
 and are now beginning to build one from the founda 
 tion.' " 
 
 Here Mirabeau paused, shook his bushy hair, 
 squared his shoulders, swelled his chest, and threw 
 his head back, as he was in the habit of doing when 
 preparing to address an audience, and, striking his 
 breast, said : " Mr. Morris, I, for one, as a member of 
 the National Assembly, I, Honor6 Gabriel de Riquetti, 
 Count de Mirabeau, protest against such sentiments. 
 I am too much of a Frenchman to set fire to the 
 ' four corners of the kingdom and to perish with it,' 
 rather than relinquish an iota from my plans. Far 
 from calling it ' wisdom and coolness,' I would call it 
 insanity, fury, and satanical pride. This is a kind of 
 republicanism which I can not understand and do not 
 appreciate. I would not, after the fashion and in 
 imitation of Mr. Jefferson, desire to annihilate any 
 body, much less any considerable portion of mankind, 
 for differing in opinion with me on morals, politics, 
 or religion. I hear that there is a rumor of his being 
 recalled by President Washington, and of his having 
 a seat in the Cabinet. Should this be the case, I am 
 much deceived if he is not destined to be a thorn in 
 that great man's side, and if he does not sow in his 
 native land the dragon's teeth, in the shape of social 
 doctrines, which, producing a dead level of medioc 
 rity, not free, however, from the heart-burnings of low 
 ambition, envy, and malignity, will in the end produce 
 anarchy and bloody struggles." 
 
 "I think," replied Morris, "that the good sense of
 
 A UBER T DUB A YET. ifa 
 
 the Americans will preserve them against extremes, 
 and that our free institutions may be relied on for 
 centuries of existence without material modifications. 
 But, although you may consider your revolution as 
 achieved, although the authority of the king and 
 nobility is completely subdued, yet I tremble for the 
 new constitution you have in view. Instead of prac 
 tical experience and soberness of desire, the French 
 have all the romantic spirit and all the romantic ideas 
 of government, which, happily for America, we were 
 cured of before it was too late." * 
 
 " I have little respect," said Mirabeau, with his 
 usual imprudence and haughty carelessness, " for most 
 of the members of our Assembly. Some are fools, 
 and many are knaves poor stuff out of which to 
 make proper charioteers for the Juggernaut car of 
 revolution. But great national convulsions have 
 always produced the man who is to end them. He 
 will not be wanting to France." 
 
 " May it be so ! " said Morris ; "and if the French 
 determine on a republic, may they have a Washington 
 to conduct them through the experiment ! By the 
 by, as you have favored me with an extract from a 
 letter, allow me to return you the compliment in com 
 municating to you the views of men to whom you 
 will concede some experience in revolution. It will 
 show you how anxious your best friends and well- 
 wishers are that you should behave with all the mod 
 eration, prudence, and foresight which this great crisis 
 demands. I read from a letter addressed to me by 
 General Washington : 
 
 * Gouverneur Morris' Letter to Washington, 3ist of July, 
 1789.
 
 j 62 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 " ' I am persuaded/ he writes, ' that I express the 
 sentiment of my fellow-citizens when I offer an ear 
 nest prayer that the revolution in France may termi 
 nate in the permanent honor and happiness of her 
 government and people. That revolution is of so 
 wonderful a nature, that the mind can hardly realize 
 the fact. If it ends as our last accounts predict, that 
 nation will be the most powerful and happy in 
 Europe ; but I fear, though it has gone triumphantly 
 through its first paroxysm, it is not the last it has to 
 encounter before matters are fully settled. In a word, 
 the revolution is of too great a magnitude to be effect 
 ed in so short a space, and with the loss of so little 
 blood. The mortification of the king, the intrigues 
 of the queen, and the discontent of the princes and 
 the noblesse, will foment divisions, if possible, in that 
 National Assembly ; and they will unquestionably 
 avail themselves of any faux pas in the formation of 
 the constitution, if they do not give a more open, 
 active opposition. In addition to these, the licen 
 tiousness of the people on one hand, and sanguinary 
 punishments on the other, will alarm the best-disposed 
 friends to the measure, and contribute not a little to 
 the overthrow of their object. Great temperance, 
 firmness, and foresight are necessary in the move 
 ments of that body. To forbear running from one 
 extreme to the other is no easy matter ; and should 
 not this be the case, rocks and shelves, not visible at 
 present, may wreck the vessel, and give a higher- 
 toned despotism than the one which existed before.' " 
 
 Whilst Morris was reading, Mirabeau had taken off 
 his hat, and listened, or pretended to listen, as rev 
 erentially as a disciple of Islam would to a firman 
 from the Prophet. After the reading was over, " No
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. \ 63 
 
 man," he said, "was ever more disposed, Mr. Morris, 
 to bow lower than I am to the moral grandeur and 
 virtuous superiority of that sublime being ; but I con 
 fess that I did not give him credit for so much polit 
 ical sagacity and foresight. He truly predicts what 
 may happen to the tempest-tossed vessel, should the 
 right pilot be not at the helm. If I perish, Mr. 
 Morris, the ill-advised king will be dethroned ; from 
 a shivered throne to the scaffold there is but one 
 step, and then a republic, and a Cromwell. But let 
 us hope that I shall live to direct the storm and ride 
 the whirlwind." 
 
 Morris, unaccustomed to the candor of Mirabeau's 
 boasting and to his usual expressions of overweening 
 belief in himself, could not conceal a slight degree of 
 astonishment, and smiled at the ingenuousness of the 
 gigantic presumption which did not hesitate to mani 
 fest so openly such sentiments of self-appreciation 
 and confidence. He drew another letter from his 
 pocket, saying : " This one is from Hamilton to Lafay 
 ette, who has submitted it to my perusal : 
 
 " ' As a friend to liberty and mankind/ writes Ham 
 ilton, ' I rejoice in the efforts which you are making 
 to establish it, while I fear much for the final success 
 of the attempts, for the fall of those who are engaged 
 in it, and for the danger, in case of success, of innova 
 tions greater than will consist with the real felicity of 
 your nation. I dread disagreements among those 
 who are now united, about the nature of your consti 
 tution ; I dread the vehement character of your peo 
 ple, whom, I fear, you may find more easy to bring 
 on, than to keep within proper bounds after you have 
 put them in motion. I dread the interested refrac 
 toriness of your nobles, who can not all be gratified, 
 and who may be unwilling to submit to the requisite
 
 ! 64 ^ tf&E* 7* D UBA YE T. 
 
 sacrifices ; and I dread the reveries of your philosophic 
 politicians, who appear in the moment to have great 
 influence, and who, being mere speculatists, may aim 
 at more refinement than suits either with human 
 nature, or the composition of your nation.' " * 
 
 "I flatter myself," said Mirabeau, "that we shall 
 not justify the apprehensions of our friends. In the 
 meantime, Mr. Morris, allow me to thank you for the 
 gratification and information which I have derived 
 from this interview. I am happy to have made your 
 acquaintance, and I beg leave to cultivate it to my 
 profit." The gentlemen bowed and separated. 
 
 Morris had hardly departed, when there came by 
 the brilliant equipage of one of the most popular 
 actresses of the epoch. When she saw Mirabeau, she 
 ordered her coachman to stop, and beckoned to him 
 and to his companion. They both walked to the car 
 riage door. Mirabeau introduced Aubert Dubayet. 
 " Count," she said to Mirabeau, " you have not for 
 gotten, I suppose, that we dine to-day at the Duke of 
 Orleans' ? But before we meet at the Palais Royal, 
 I have something strictly private to confide to you ; 
 step into my carriage, with your friend's permission." 
 Then, addressing Dubayet, she said, with the sweet 
 est of smiles : " I hope you forgive the liberty I take. 
 I am spoiled, and used to all sorts of liberties. But 
 I'll not apologize now ; I'll wait for another occasion 
 for instance, on Friday next, when you must sup with 
 me. The count will accompany you ; I take no re 
 fusal. Aurevoir"; and the equipage, with its four 
 splendid English bays a present of the Duke of Or 
 leansdashed away, with a full load of beauty and elo 
 quence, but, alas, with very little of virtue for ballast, 
 
 * Hamilton's Works, vol. v., p. 440.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE SUPPER OF THE ACTRESS A. SCENE BETWEEN 
 MIRABEAU AND THE DUKE OF ORLEANS. 
 
 LEFT alone, Aubert Dubayet was crossing the 
 garden of the Tuileries, when he met Lafayette. 
 " Whither are you going?" inquired the marquis. 
 
 " To dinner," replied Dubayet. 
 
 " Then it shall be at my house. Come, let us go." 
 
 On the way, Dubayet related to Lafayette a part 
 of the conversation he had just heard between Gou- 
 verneur Morris and Mirabeau. " So," said Lafayette,- 
 " Morris thinks that I and my friends are too republi 
 can for France." 
 
 " And I confess," observed Dubayet, " that I some 
 what agree with him." 
 
 " You are both in error," continued Lafayette. 
 " You and Morris have only witnessed the surface of 
 things ; it is for me to explain the interior. Mira 
 beau is right : I am for a monarchy, not for a repub 
 lic. The object which is aimed at by the Duke de 
 Larochefoucauld, Mr. Condorcet, myself, and some 
 others, who consider themselves leaders, is to obtain 
 for France a constitution nearly resembling that of 
 England, which we regard as the most perfect model 
 of government hitherto known. To accomplish this, 
 it is necessary to diminish very essentially the power 
 of the king ; but our object is to retain the throne, 
 in great majesty, as the first branch of the legislative 
 
 (165)
 
 l66 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 power, but retrenching its executive power in one 
 point, which, though very important in the British 
 Crown, we think is needless here. The peerage of 
 France is already so numerous that we would take 
 from our king the right of creating new peers, except 
 in cases where old families may become extinct.* 
 To all this, the king, who is one of the best of men, 
 and sincerely desirous of the happiness of his people, 
 most freely and cordially consents." 
 
 " How would you constitute your house of peers ? " 
 said Dubayet. 
 
 " We wish a house of peers," replied Lafayette, 
 "with powers of legislation similar to that of England, 
 restricted to one hundred members, to be elected by 
 the whole body of the nobility from among them 
 selves, in the same manner as the Scotch peers are in 
 the British Parliament. "f 
 
 " And the plebeians the great mass of the peo 
 ple," inquired Dubayet, " what of them ? " 
 
 " We wish also," continued Lafayette, " as the 
 third branch of the legislative body, a house of repre 
 sentatives, chosen by the great body of the people 
 from among themselves, in such a ratio as shall not 
 make the house too numerous ; and this branch of 
 our project meets unanimous approbation. \ 
 
 " How happy I am," exclaimed Dubayet, " to hear 
 that such a plan is feasible ! " 
 
 " Feasible, yes," remarked Lafayette, " but will it 
 be carried into execution? Unhappily, there is one 
 powerful and wicked man, who, I fear, will destroy 
 this beautiful fabric of human happiness the Duke 
 
 * Colonel Trumbull's Report to Washington, 
 t Ibid. J Ibid.
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. j6/ 
 
 of Orleans. He does not, indeed, possess talent to 
 carry into execution a great project, but he possesses 
 immense wealth, and France abounds in marketable 
 talents. Every city and town has young men emi 
 nent for abilities, particularly in the law, ardent in 
 character, eloquent, ambitious of distinction, but poor.* 
 These are the instruments which the duke may com 
 mand by money, and they will do his bidding. His 
 hatred of the royal family can be satisfied only by 
 their ruin. His ambition, probably, leads him to 
 aspire to the throne." * 
 
 " And do you suspect Mirabeau to be one of the 
 tools of the duke ? " was the question asked by Du- 
 bayet. 
 
 " No," replied Lafayette ; " it is the duke who is 
 the tool of Mirabeau, whilst the duke thinks he is 
 using that extraordinary man to his own profit. They 
 are now acting together, but their league will not last 
 long. I have heard Mirabeau say that the duke had 
 talents, but had not the consciousness of right and 
 wrong, so absolute was his depravity. A creature, 
 whom Mirabeau thinks so vile and for whom he has 
 so much contempt, can not really exercise influence 
 over one who, although corrupt himself, yet is suscep 
 tible of enthusiasm for all that is noble and virtuous. 
 Such is Mirabeau. He will not trust the duke, and 
 they will quarrel. Should, then, the king or queen 
 tempt his ambition, I believe that they will secure 
 his mighty support ; for Mirabeau is an aristocrat at 
 heart, and is for a constitutional monarchy whose 
 Chatham he will aim to be." 
 
 " I have heard the duke accused of being, with 
 
 * Colonel Trumbull's Report to Washington.
 
 1 68 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Mirabeau, the instigator of the late riots and mas 
 sacres. Do you believe it?" inquired Dubayet. 
 
 " I am certain of it, so far as regards the Duke of 
 Orleans. As to Mirabeau, considering his present 
 relations with that personage, I am afraid that he is 
 not free from all responsibility, for he needs anarchy 
 to make himself necessary, and to have the merit of 
 re-establishing order at the opportune moment. You 
 saw the other day, in the mob, men who were called 
 les Marseillais, les patriotes par excellence; you saw 
 them particularly active and audacious in stimulating 
 the discontented artisans and laborers, who com 
 posed the great mass of the mob, to acts of violence 
 and ferocity ; those men are, in truth, desperadoes, 
 assassins from the south of France, familiar with mur 
 der, robbery, and every atrocious crime, who have 
 been brought up to Paris by the money of the duke, 
 for the very purpose for which you saw them em 
 ployed, of mingling in all mobs, and exciting the pas 
 sions of the people to frenzy." * 
 
 " Good God ! " exclaimed Dubayet, " this is horri 
 ble. What will be the end of it ? " 
 
 " This is the first act of the drama," continued La 
 fayette. " The second will be to influence the elec 
 tions, on the dissolution of this Assembly, which is 
 already talked of, and to fill the next one with ar 
 dent, inexperienced, desperate, ambitious young men, 
 who, instead of proceeding to discuss calmly the de 
 tails of the political plan of which I have given you 
 the general outline for the establishment of a perma 
 nent constitutional monarchy, and to cariy it quietly 
 into operation, will, under disguise of zeal for the 
 
 * Colonel Trumbull's Report to Washington.
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. \ 69 
 
 people and abhorrence of the aristocrats, drive every 
 measure to extremity, for the purpose of throwing 
 the affairs of the nation into utter confusion, when 
 the master spirit may accomplish his ultimate pur 
 pose. " * 
 
 A few days afterward Mirabeau took Aubert Du- 
 bayet to supper at the house of his friend, Made 
 moiselle Guimard, according to the invitation which 
 that actress had given. There were assembled most of 
 the celebrated artists who belonged to the fair sex ; and, 
 on the masculine side, there was a gathering of nobles, 
 of literary and scientific men, and of some members of 
 the National Assembly. Mirabeau, with ineffable ease, 
 as if a matter of course, and in the exercise of an in 
 disputable right, took hold of the conversation, to 
 which he gave the lead. All the honors of the even 
 ing were for him. He burned at random, with a pro 
 fuse hand, coarse and delicate incense and perfumes 
 for the women, and he showered upon them such 
 pearls from his intellectual casket as he thought suit 
 able to their tastes. He made love to them all in turn, 
 and amused them with the most piquant anecdotes 
 on the most renowned beauties of ancient and modern 
 times, drawing largely on his imagination when his 
 torical truth failed him. With the men he skipped 
 from subject to subject, frivolous or austere, but re 
 maining always equal to himself and superior to all. 
 It seemed as if, by a tacit consent, every one talked 
 merely to draw him out. It was past midnight, when, 
 leaving the supper-table, the guests moved to the 
 brilliantly illuminated saloons, where parties who had 
 dropped in as visitors in the course of the evening, 
 
 * Colonel Trumbull's Report to Washington.
 
 1 70 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 were engaged in different kinds of game whilst expect 
 ing the fair hostess and her guests. Mirabeau was not 
 one of the least eager to try his luck at the most haz 
 ardous of the games. He betted heavily and lost 
 accordingly, but with the most superb indifference, 
 notwithstanding the natural impetuosity of his tem 
 perament, and although he was evidently heated by 
 wine. One would have supposed that he had the 
 Indies at his disposal. He had at last a lucky run. 
 One of the opera queens of the day happened to ap 
 proach him. " Ah ! love," he said, " is that you at my 
 elbow? How splendid you were last Thursday in 
 the part of Cleopatra ! It was true to the life ; the 
 illusion was complete. Allow me to present this to 
 you (pointing to the large glittering pile of gold be 
 fore him) in the name of Marc Antony, that stout 
 warrior and boon companion whom I love, because 
 he had vices which were very much like my own." 
 
 At that moment, the Duke of Orleans was an 
 nounced. He entered with a flushed face, and with 
 the appearance of having just risen from one of his 
 habitual orgies. He bowed to the right and left with 
 a sort of haughty carelessness, after having kissed the 
 hand of La Guimard, as she was called, and walked to 
 Mirabeau. " Count," he said, " we had some difference 
 together the other day. It has lasted long enough, 
 and I have come to make it up. With the permission 
 of our gentle hostess, pray, do me the favor to grant 
 me the pleasure of your company in a private room. 
 I have no doubt that a few minutes' conversation will 
 be sufficient to re-establish harmony between us, and 
 that we shall be able to proceed in our great under 
 taking of reform in France, with a mutual friendly 
 understanding, as in the past."
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. j^I 
 
 Mirabeau rose, and with an ominous scowl on his 
 brow followed the prince. " Let us station ourselves 
 near the door of the apartment," said Mademoiselle 
 Guimard to Dubayet. " I am afraid of the conse 
 quences of this interview in the condition in which 
 both are. The duke and the count quarrelled vio 
 lently the other day ; and since, Mirabeau has told me 
 that the prince was too rotten and too unreliable to 
 be trusted ; that it was disreputable, as he found out, 
 for him to be connected with such a character, and 
 that he would wash his hands of him." 
 
 La Guimard and Dubayet sat on a sofa that was 
 near the folding doors behind which the two great per 
 sonages had disappeared. After a little while it seemed 
 evident to them that there was an angry altercation 
 going on inside. The voices became louder and louder, 
 and even assumed a threatening tone. Greatly alarmed, 
 the actress opened the door; and, standing on the 
 threshold with Dubayet, said : " I beg your royal 
 highness, and I beg you, count, to pardon me for hav 
 ing intruded on your privacy. But I come to warn 
 you that, if you do not beware, your conversation will 
 be overheard." 
 
 " By the living God ! " exclaimed Mirabeau, " I care 
 not a pinch of snuff, if what I have said, or intend to 
 say, is heard by the whole world ! On the contrary, 
 I should be glad of it. Therefore, walk in, both of 
 you ; walk in, by all means. Know ye that this prince 
 has been reproaching me, forsooth, with being a diso 
 bedient slave a slave whom, as he fancies, he has 
 bought with five hundred thousand livres which he pre 
 sented to me a few days ago, and which I have already 
 squandered. Ha! ha! a rich idea! Such a man as I 
 am may condescend to take such a sum for services
 
 172 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 rendered, or to be rendered, but does not stoop to be 
 sold. You forget that, Monseigncur. Mirabeau is 
 Mirabeau, and ever remains his own master. I might 
 think it worth while to spend your whole fortune to 
 further your own purposes and mine, but after my 
 own fashion, be it understood. Does your royal high 
 ness imagine that all your millions concentrated into 
 one heap and offered to me, could make Philip of Or 
 leans, first prince of the blood, master of Honor 
 Gabriel Riquetti, Count de Mirabeau? If you do, you 
 have yet to learn that there is a royalty of intellect 
 and of soul, which is better entitled to command than 
 any authority derived from the divine right of kings." 
 This was said with great vehemence, and with a con 
 temptuous sneer. 
 
 The prince, who was evidently trying to regain his 
 self-possession, which he seemed to have lost in this 
 interview, said calmly : " You know, Mr. de Mirabeau, 
 that these titles of prince and royal highness are no 
 longer accepted by me, because they do not agree 
 with the position which I have taken as the inflexible 
 advocate of liberty, equality, and fraternity among 
 men. You know that it is long since I have ceased 
 to blush to acknowledge as my father Montfort, the 
 coachman." 
 
 At these words, Dubayet felt as if his blood froze 
 in his veins, and La Guimard uttered a smothered 
 shriek. Mirabeau measured the prince with a wither 
 ing glance from head to foot ; and, turning round to 
 the two spectators of this scene, said: " You have be 
 come pale, Dubayet ; and you, dear Guimard, are near 
 fainting. But keep up ; keep up, and do not believe 
 what this man says. In the name of all honest wives 
 and mothers, I tell him that he lies. The truth is,
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. ! 73 
 
 that having ceased to fawn on Louis and on Marie 
 Antoinette, who repudiate his homage, he has be 
 come a courtier, or rather a valet, in the ante-cham 
 bers of that new sovereign the people whose reign 
 has been lately inaugurated, and in whose court he 
 thinks that it would be- held a higher degree of no 
 bility to be the son of a coachman, than of a royal 
 duke. But it is a sheer pretence a princely joke that 
 is all. Like his ancestor, the Regent, he is fond of 
 boasting of more vices and crimes than have fallen to 
 his share, although he is bad and infamous enough to 
 satisfy himself in that respect, Heaven knows."* 
 
 The face of Orleans, which was already inflamed 
 by his too liberal potations, became purple with 
 shame and rage, and his eye, which had naturally a 
 sinister expression, assumed the deadly look of an in 
 furiated basilisk. 
 
 " Mr. de Mirabeau," he said, " such insolence would 
 well deserve the whip." 
 
 Mirabeau struck three times his athletic and sonor 
 ous chest. " The whip to me ! Monseigneur" he ex 
 claimed ; " to me, the real king of France by the con 
 secration and anointment of the people, whose maj 
 esty and power are incorporated in me as their repre 
 sentative ! This is another of your jokes, but a silly 
 one, decidedly. Leave the whip to your pretended 
 father, the coachman. It is the sword that befits 
 your royal hand ; but I forget that you never had the 
 courage to use one. There was in France but one 
 prince who ever dared to use the whip. He was the 
 greatest of the House of Bourbon, and named himself 
 Louis XIV. It was on a grand occasion ; it was 
 
 * Jules Janin.
 
 174 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 when, starting for the chase, in the pride of youth 
 and power, he drove before him, whip in hand, a dis 
 obedient parliament. But the times have changed, 
 and the whip has passed into the hands of the nation. 
 It wields it, Monseigneur, with a firm and rough arm, 
 and, should it please God, you will feel it one day, 
 with a vengeance ! Already, if my memory serves 
 me right, it has been laid rudely across the face of 
 your royal race ; for you certainly can not have for 
 gotten to whom the handsome and irresistible Lauzun 
 used to say : ' Louise D'Orleans, pull off my boots.' 
 I pray, therefore, your royal highness no longer to 
 speak of the whip. Perhaps there remains yet a fort 
 night of respite, during which you may be permitted 
 to threaten your lacqueys with such punishment. 
 Lose no time in availing yourself of the opportunity, 
 and hasten back to the enjoyment of that luxury in 
 your palace." 
 
 The duke seemed petrified with astonishment. 
 Mirabeau, turning away from him, took two or three 
 rapid strides through the room, to and fro, from one 
 end to the other, like an angry lion in a cage. Then, 
 suddenly halting, he said to La Guimard and to Du- 
 bayet, whilst he pointed at the prince with an inso 
 lent gesture which was natural to him : " It is strange 
 that this man should claim the right to change his 
 hereditary name, when he has sufficiently degraded it 
 to suit his taste ! It is strange that he should pre 
 sume to lay aside his father to take up another, as I 
 would doff my coat ! It is strange that he should 
 arrogate the right to defame an honest coachman who 
 has done him nothing to deserve such treatment ! It 
 is passing strange that he should insult the memory 
 of his mother in our presence, as he has insulted his
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 175 
 
 wife, that woman so accomplished, so virtuous, so 
 chaste, so thoroughly a Christian, whom he forced to 
 appear, terrified and crossing herself, amidst a pro 
 fane assembly of Freemasons ! Perhaps it is due to 
 a certain old habit of princes the habit of offering 
 insults, in the way of fun a habit which time has 
 not yet corrected, it seems, and of which I hope that 
 we have seen, to-night, the last exhibition. Hence, 
 let us have patience." 
 
 The Duke of Orleans must have stood in absolute 
 need of Mirabeau, for he suddenly put on an air of 
 cordiality and said : " Bah ! Bah ! Genius has its 
 privileges and its infirmities, which must be respected. 
 Genius has its fits of insanity, and this is one of them, 
 but it claims the privilege to be forgotten, and it shall 
 be. Come, come, let us be friends, Mirabeau. Be 
 sides, we need each other for the good of France," 
 and he tendered his hand. 
 
 Mirabeau stepped back. " Touch me not," he said, 
 " if you really are the adulterous son of a coachman ; 
 know, Sir, that I am, and never will cease to be, of 
 noble birth, and that there can be nothing in common 
 between the bastard of Montfort and the legitimate 
 descendant of a hundred gentlemen." 
 
 After this explosion of wrath, he rushed out, fol 
 lowed by La Guimard and Dubayet. He was walk 
 ing rapidly toward the entrance door of the house, 
 apparently to leave it, when he met one of his friends 
 of the National Assembly, who, on seeing him, ex 
 claimed : " Thank Heaven ! I find you at last. I 
 have been looking for you in all your accustomed 
 haunts, and I am out of breath. I have been dis 
 patched in haste to tell you that the Assembly has 
 resumed the discussion of the projected decree re-
 
 1 76 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 pudiating the national debt and proclaiming the bank 
 ruptcy of France. Notwithstanding your repeated 
 efforts to prevent it, and the irrefutable arguments 
 which you have already presented, it is believed that 
 the measure will be carried. They will take the vote 
 in less than an hour." 
 
 " O, the incorrigible jackanapes ! " exclaimed Mira- 
 beau. " Is it thus that they avail themselves of my 
 absence to perpetrate all sorts of mischief ! Can I 
 not allow myself a moment of relaxation ? Guimard, 
 my dear, take me to your toilet room. Let me wash 
 my face and remove the traces of my having enjoyed 
 too much your exquisite supper. I have, I am afraid, 
 been too partial to your rare wines. By-the-by, who 
 is your purveyor? I must patronize him." 
 
 La Guimard took his arm, and, whilst leading him 
 to her boudoir, whispered to him with all the signs of 
 the utmost terror : " Mirabeau, you have mortally 
 offended the duke. Beware of assassination." 
 
 " Pshaw ! I fear him not," replied Mirabeau, con 
 temptuously. " He, assassinate ! No, he can not rise 
 
 up even to that. But," and after a pause, he 
 
 added : " He is not above using the poison of the 
 Borgias. That is low enough to reach his level." 
 
 After he had finished his ablutions and emptied a 
 vial of perfume, he said to Dubayet : "Let us go; 
 come with me ; let us show to that assembly of asses 
 the tusks of the wild boar. It is time." 
 
 Whilst Mirabeau's carriage was rattling toward the 
 National Assembly, he said to Dubayet : " The fools ! 
 They are for a general bankruptcy, and do not see 
 that in so doing they would cut their own throats and 
 smother the revolution and liberty. Far from declar 
 ing France in a state of bankruptcy, far from wiping
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 177 
 
 out the public debt, we must nurse and naturalize that 
 blessing. The present deficit in the treasury is the 
 germ of our intended constitution. No debt no 
 revolution no constitution. Should the public debt 
 be repudiated, the working classes and they consti 
 tute the bulk of the nation will be relieved and will 
 rejoice at it. They will gain everything by it and lose 
 nothing. They will clap their hands at the fate of the 
 financiers and creditors of the State, whom they con 
 sider as blood-suckers, and who will be ruined. But 
 the condition of the people will be greatly ameliorated, 
 because the taxes will be much reduced, and pros 
 perity will revive in every department of industry ; 
 there will be no longer any embarrassment in the way 
 of the government, and France, free from its crush 
 ing burden, will start anew in the arena, like a spirited 
 horse, well fed and refreshed. But then the National 
 Assembly will cease to be a necessity. It will be dis 
 solved, and what will become of the projected consti 
 tution and of the sovereignty of the people?" 
 
 " And of the sovereignty of Mirabeau ? " added 
 Dubayet, tapping him on the shoulder. 
 
 " True," replied Mirabeau, " I had forgotten that. 
 France must have a constitutional government like 
 England. Louis must continue to be a good-natured, 
 honest drone on the throne ; Marie Antoinette who, 
 by the by, is the worthy daughter of Maria Theresa, 
 and has all the energy of a man must be contented 
 to be the queen of fashion ; and Honore Gabriel de 
 Mirabeau will be the constitutional Richelieu of the 
 monarchy, with an obedient parliament at his feet. 
 Therefore, down with repudiation, and long live the 
 national debt ! " 
 8*
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF ELOQUENCE A GLANCE AT THE 
 FUTURE OF THE UNITED STATES BY MIRABEAU. 
 
 IT was about three o'clock in the morning when 
 Mirabeau entered the hall of the National Assembly, 
 which was unusually silent. The debates had ceased, 
 and the members had agreed to cast a final vote on 
 the vital question of national bankruptcy, which had 
 kept them so long in a state of intense excitement. 
 They looked exceedingly fatigued and broken-down ; 
 some of them were sleeping in their seats, and lean 
 ing against the shoulders of their neighbors. The 
 lights were burning dim, as if the oil which fed them 
 was giving way. The clerk, slowly arranging and 
 putting in order the papers on his desk, was languidly 
 preparing to call the names and ascertain the votes. 
 In the galleries occupied by spectators, males and 
 females, there seemed to be prevailing a sort of torpor, 
 the result of extreme exhaustion and ennui. When 
 Mirabeau appeared, an instantaneous transformation 
 of the dull scene took place. It was as if a current 
 of electricity had suddenly struck every human being 
 there present first, a low, confused murmur ; then a 
 general movement, followed by a wild burst of accla 
 mation. " Ho ! ho ! here is Mirabeau ! " was heard 
 on all sides. " Hurrah for Mirabeau ! " shouted the 
 galleries. " Down with him ! " shrieked some voices. 
 (178)
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 1 79 
 
 " Long live our dear gossip, our* little mother Mira- 
 beau ! " cried a troop of queans of the fish market. 
 " Come to us, gossip dear, we want to kiss you." 
 " Champion of the people," roared a butcher with 
 bare arms, shaking with fury his enormous fist, " we 
 have our eyes on thee. Welcome, and at work ; we 
 are impatient. When wilt thou send to the shambles 
 the royal ox with the rest of the blooded cattle that 
 follow his heels?" The President of the Assembly 
 in vain endeavored to re-establish order. One of the 
 members, with a magnificent head on shoulders be 
 longing to a monstrously large body which looked as 
 if it weighed five hundred pounds, rose in a fit of un 
 controllable anger. " Silence, stupid multitude," he 
 shouted. " Respect your betters, vile canaille. Long 
 live the king ! Down with the rag-pickers ! " One of 
 his colleagues in front of him muttered something 
 which was imperfectly heard. " Sir," said the colossus, 
 " if you are not satisfied, I shall be happy to give you 
 any satisfaction you please." Then raising his head 
 defiantly and looking at some one in the galleries 
 above, who was vociferating : " Down with the Aus 
 trian hag, Marie Antoinette," he shouted, pointing at 
 the man : " Sergeant-at-arms, fetch me here that cook, 
 I want to cut off his ears and pin them to his dirty 
 apron." During all this uproar, Mirabeau, who 
 seemed to take no notice of it, was slowly moving 
 toward the tribune, passing between the benches on 
 which sat the members, bowing right and left, shaking 
 hands, and sometimes stopping to say a few words. 
 When reaching this mountain of flesh who was in a 
 state of volcanic eruption and who stood right in his 
 
 * Notre petite mere Mirabeau.
 
 1 80 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 way, and blocked it, as it were, Mirabeau greeted him 
 cordially, saying: "Good-morning, Viscount, you 
 seem to be very mad. What is the matter?" 
 
 " Yes, I am angry with you and your worthy friends, 
 and I really don't see how it can be otherwise," re 
 plied Mirabeau the younger. "Faith! What a rare 
 collection of tatterdemalions of both sexes ! I com 
 pliment you, brother, on your refined taste. Truly, 
 you must be very proud of your alliance with shoe 
 makers, tailors, and cooks; you, the eldest and the 
 head of the Riquettis ! I have the right to protest, 
 I think, and I do protest in the name of an indignant 
 family." 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! dear brother, be calm. I am aston 
 ished to see you irritated against shoemakers and 
 tailors, whom you never condescend to pay, and 
 against cooks, whom you generally appreciate so 
 highly. One of them must have given you to-night 
 a very bad supper which has soured on your titanic 
 stomach." 
 
 " Count," retorted the other, " if we had not come 
 out of the same maternal womb, I would certainly 
 beg you to afford me the opportunity of slitting your 
 conspicuous nose." 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! Boniface, are you not ashamed ? 
 You must be drunk, as usual. Shall I forever have to 
 reproach you for that unbecoming vice ? " 
 
 " By the holy rood ! How unjust and niggardly 
 you are, Gabriel ! " replied the viscount with a chuckle. 
 " Do you grudge me one single vice, when you have 
 taken all the others as your inheritance, by virtue, I 
 suppose, of your right of primogeniture?" 
 
 Mirabeau turned to the by-standers and said, cyni 
 cally : " Gentlemen, I am sorry for the viscount. He
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. jgj 
 
 pales before me, and is envious. In any other family 
 he would have been a scapegrace and a genius. In 
 ours he is an honest man and a fool." 
 
 There was loud laughter and clapping of hands all 
 round at this keen encounter of wits between the 
 brothers, but it was immediately followed by a silence 
 as profound as that of the tomb. Mirabeau had as 
 cended the rostrum. He remained motionless for a 
 while, with his arms folded over his breast, and his 
 massive head bent down as if in deep thought. Then, 
 looking at the president, and from the president turn 
 ing his eyes to the now stilled crowd, which he sur 
 veyed as if studying his ground, he said : " O, repre 
 sentatives of the people, must I again address you on 
 a subject on which I have repeatedly spoken, and 
 which I thought exhausted ? " At first, he seemed to 
 seek for ideas and words ; his utterance was slow and 
 measured, and accompanied with no gesticulation 
 whatever. There was hesitation in his manner, and 
 something which indicated a lassitude of mind and 
 body, not unpleasant in its effect on the audience. It 
 elicited sympathy, for every one felt that deep and 
 true must be the convictions of the orator, who, in 
 their defense, entering the arena when evidently un 
 prepared, risked his fame in his anxiety for the tri 
 umph of his principles, and who, forgetful of self, 
 thought only of the great cause which he advocated. 
 But soon inspiration came, the waters gushed from 
 the rock, and Mirabeau made against the proposed 
 decree of national bankruptcy a speech, which was 
 considered by those who heard it, one of the grandest 
 efforts of human eloquence. The Assembly rose to 
 their feet spontaneously, and almost unanimously re 
 jected the measure which, one moment before, they 
 were determined to adopt.
 
 1 82 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Mol6, the first actor of Paris, was present. He had 
 come at the head of a deputation of comedians to 
 present a petition. Attracted by the importance of 
 the debate, he had determined to see it out, and had 
 remained the whole night at the Assembly with a party 
 of friends. He was intensely excited by the speech 
 of Mirabeau. In a fit of enthusiasm he rushed to the 
 spot where the orator stood in the midst of a crowd 
 who were complimenting him, and exclaimed: "O, 
 count, you are the prince of eloquence. What an 
 oration ! With what exquisite and perfect emphasis 
 you delivered it ! How dramatic you are ! How sub 
 lime is your voice ! What variety, what pathos in its 
 intonations ! You have missed your vocation ; it was 
 the stage. You should have been one of us." The 
 actor had hardly paid this tribute of admiration, 
 when he became aware of its singularity. He smiled, 
 blushed, and looked a little confused. But Mirabeau 
 was evidently very much pleased ; for it was in his nat 
 ure to hunger and thirst after praise of any kind. One 
 of his friends, who had remarked that food of this qual 
 ity, administered largely, or sparingly, thin, lean, or 
 fat, delicately or coarsely cooked, was always accept 
 able to his greedy appetite, had, one day, quaintly 
 said to him : " Mirabeau, you would breakfast on an 
 elephant and sup on a flesh-worm, if presented in the 
 shape of flattery." 
 
 "Come on; day begins to dawn," said Mirabeau 
 to Dubayet. " I have brought you here ; I must take 
 you to your home. You will give me a light break 
 fast, a cup of coffee, one egg, and a toast. I feel ex 
 hausted and must have some refreshment ; for I have 
 something yet to do which will not permit me to go 
 to bed before noon, and I must be up in the evening
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. T 83 
 
 at six, as I have to meet an important personage at 
 seven." 
 
 The two friends were soon seated at the breakfast- 
 table. " Well," said Mirabeau, " how do you like my 
 speech of last night, fresh from La Guimard's toilet- 
 room? I hope it did not smell of it, and was not that 
 clap-trap, would-be imitation of eloquence which puts 
 me in mind of the thunders and tempests of the 
 opera, where that great actress reigns in undisputed 
 supremacy. I hate all that is not genuine." 
 
 " By Jupiter, it was real thunder, and one of your 
 most splendid efforts. You have trampled bankruptcy 
 under your heel, saved French honor, and consolidated 
 the national debt. I wish that you had been heard 
 by the whole Congress of the United States, for they 
 are quarrelling about assuming, or not, on behalf of 
 the General Government, the debts contracted by the 
 several States in the revolutionary struggle. The 
 contest waxes so hot that there is some apprehension 
 of a dissolution of the newly-formed Union." 
 
 "Already ! I did not expect it so soon, whilst their 
 honeymoon still shines on the horizon," said Mira 
 beau, dropping a lump of sugar into his coffee. " Do 
 the sovereignty of the respective States and that of 
 the Federal Government experience some difficulty 
 in fusing together, like this sugar and coffee which 
 now form a most delicious whole, truly?" and he 
 sipped complacently the smoking beverage, while his 
 eye glanced at Dubayet with a rather ironical ex 
 pression. 
 
 " The accord would be perfect," answered Dubayet, 
 " if the opposite parties listened to the wholesome 
 advice given to them by Washington. I call your at 
 tention to this newspaper which I have just received
 
 1 84 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 from America. It contains an interesting letter from 
 him to one of his friends, Dr. Stuart, of Virginia. 
 But. before you peruse it, let me give you some ex 
 planation about the bone of contention.* Hamilton, 
 the secretary of the treasury, in his official report, has 
 urged the assumption by the General Government, of 
 the separate debts of the States, contracted for the 
 common cause, and recommends that a like pro 
 vision be made for their payment as for the payment 
 of those of the Union. They were, he says, all con 
 tracted in the struggle for national independence, not 
 for the independence of any particular part. No 
 more money would be required for their discharge as 
 federal than as State debts. Money could be raised 
 more readily by the Federal Government than by the 
 States, and all clashing and jealousy between the 
 States and federal creditors would thus be prevented. 
 No doubt there was a reason which had great weight 
 with him, though he did not bring it into considera 
 tion in his report, for fear, probably, of offending the 
 jealousy of State sovereignty, dormant, but not ex 
 tinct, and which was, that it would tend to unite the 
 States financially, as they were united politically, and 
 strengthen the central government by rallying capi 
 talists around it, subjecting them to its influence, and 
 rendering them agents of its will. He recommends, 
 therefore, that the entire mass of the debt be funded, 
 the Union made responsible for it, and taxes imposed 
 for its liquidation. He suggests, moreover, the ex 
 pediency, for the greater security of the debt and 
 punctuality in the payment of interest, that the do 
 mestic creditors, if not the foreign ones, submit to an 
 
 * W. Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 53, vol. v.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 185 
 
 abatement of accruing interest. This plan is opposed 
 with great earnestness, especially the point of assum 
 ing the State debts, as tending to consolidation, as 
 giving an undue influence to the General Govern 
 ment, and as being of doubtful constitutionality. The 
 financial union of the States is strongly reprobated, 
 not only on the floor of Congress, but in different 
 parts of the Union, as fraught with political evil. The 
 Northern and Eastern States favor the plan, but the 
 Southern States, with the exception of South Caro 
 lina, manifest a determined opposition, because it is 
 supposed that the funding of the State debts would 
 chiefly benefit the Northern States, in which is the 
 entire capital of the country. A letter to Washing 
 ton from his friend, Dr. Stuart, whom I have already 
 mentioned, spoke with alarm of the jealous belief 
 growing up in Virginia, averring that the Northern 
 and Eastern States were combining to pursue their 
 own exclusive interests. Many, he observed, who had 
 heretofore been warm supporters of the new govern 
 ment, were changing their sentiments, from a convic 
 tion of the impracticability of the union with States 
 whose interests were so dissimilar. Now for Wash 
 ington's reply." 
 
 Mirabeau took up the journal which had been 
 placed before him by Dubayet, and read aloud : " I 
 am sorry such jealousies as you speak of should be 
 gaining ground and possessing the minds of the 
 Southern people ; but admit the fact which is alleged 
 as the cause of them, and give it full scope, does it 
 amount to more than was known to every man of in 
 formation before, at, and since, the adoption of the 
 new constitution ? Was it not always believed that 
 there are some points which peculiarly interest the
 
 1 86 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Eastern States? And did any one who reads human 
 nature, and more especially the character of the East 
 ern people, conceive that they would not pursue those 
 interests steadily by a combination of their force ? 
 Are there not other points which equally concern the 
 Southern States? If these States are less tenacious 
 of their interest, or if, while the Eastern move in a 
 solid phalanx to effect their views, the Southern are 
 always divided, which of the two is most to be 
 blamed? That there is diversity in the Union, none 
 has denied. That this is the case, also, in every State, 
 is equally certain ; and that it even extends to the 
 counties of individual States, can be as readily proved ; 
 instance the southern and northern parts of Virginia, 
 the upper and lower parts of South Carolina. Have 
 not the interests of these always been at variance ? 
 Witness the county of Fairfax. Have not the inter 
 ests of the people of that county varied, or the in 
 habitants been taught to believe so ? These are well- 
 known truths, and yet it did not follow that separa 
 tion was to result from the disagreement. 
 
 " To constitute a dispute, there must be two par 
 ties. To understand it well, both parties, and all the 
 circumstances, must be fully heard , and, to accom 
 modate differences, temper and much forbearance are 
 requisite. Common danger brought the States into 
 confederacy, and on their union our safety and inde 
 pendence depend. A spirit of accommodation was 
 the basis of the present constitution. Can it be ex 
 pected, then, that the Southern or Eastern parts of 
 the empire will succeed in all their measures? Cer 
 tainly not. But I will readily grant that more points 
 will be carried by the latter than the former, and for 
 the reason which has been mentioned : namely, that
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. I g/ 
 
 in all great national questions, they move in unison, 
 whilst the others are divided. But I ask again, which 
 is roost praiseworthy, those who see and will steadily 
 pursue their interests, or those who can not see, or 
 seeing, will not act wisely? And I will ask another 
 question of the highest magnitude in my mind, to- 
 wit : if the Northern and Eastern States are danger 
 ous in union, will they be less so in separation ? If 
 self-interest is their governing principle, will it forsake 
 them, or be restrained by such an event? I hardly 
 think it would. Then, independently of other con 
 siderations, what would Virginia, and such other 
 States as might be inclined to join her, gain by a sep 
 aration ? Would they not, most unquestionably, be 
 the weaker party ? " 
 
 After having read, Mirabeau, dropping the paper 
 on the table, said : " Very sensible indeed, and prac 
 tical in Utopia. But in this world of ours, 
 
 constituted as it is, it will be the voice in the wilder 
 ness. Washington, when he founded his model re 
 public, forgot to reckon with the passions of men. 
 These are their rulers, and not cold-blooded reason, 
 or virtue. Before the American confederacy is one 
 hundred years old, there will be separation, or an at 
 tempt at separation." 
 
 "Why?" inquired Dubayet. 
 
 " Because, as Washington admits, their interests 
 are at variance in a vast territory, where they are far 
 more irreconcilable than in a small one, and because, 
 as Washington again admits, the Southern States are 
 weaker than their associates. If they are weaker, 
 they will be oppressed ; and, being oppressed, they 
 will try to resist, and redress their wrongs, if they are 
 high-spirited people, as I suppose them to be ; and if
 
 ! 88 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 they use force, as they will probably be tempted to 
 do, they will be crushed." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "You ask me why again. Washington tells you: 
 because they are the weaker party." 
 
 " What then ? " said Dubayet. 
 
 " When the Southern States are crushed," con 
 tinued Mirabeau, " the confederation will become con 
 solidation and centralization. The States, although 
 they may be allowed to retain nominally their sover 
 eignty, as a bauble for their childish vanity to play 
 with, will in reality be mere provinces ruled by an 
 omnipotent central government. Then the deluge, 
 my friend, and good-bye to liberty. A government 
 of majorities, under which there is no protection for 
 minorities, except such as is granted according to the 
 good pleasure of king numbers, is the most frightful 
 of all despotisms. Everything, of course, will con 
 tinue to be done in the name of liberty, as, under the 
 Caesars in Rome, the will of the imperial master was 
 manifested in the name of the Roman Senate and 
 people. But vale ; I see that you look drowsy. You 
 need rest ; go to bed, you are not like me, a man of 
 iron. By-the-by, do not forget, the day after to 
 morrow, to be at midnight at the National Assembly. 
 It is the hour I have chosen to speak in opposition to 
 those who wish to have no other church in France 
 than the Roman Catholic. Antiquated nonsense ! 
 As if religious toleration was not the universal cry of 
 the age! A fair field, and a free fight every man 
 for himself God for all and the devil take the hind 
 most ! " He ran down-stairs laughing, and the chariot 
 of the man of iron, as he called himself, was heard 
 rattling away furiously, as if he had some precious 
 time lost to regain.
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 189 
 
 It must not be taken for granted that the disaffec 
 tion to the new-born republic of the United States 
 was imaginary, or confined to a few ; for Jefferson, who 
 had just returned to America, thus communicated 
 his impressions to a friend : " Being* fresh from the 
 French revolution, while in its first and pure stage, 
 and, consequently, somewhat whetted up in my own 
 republican principles, I found a state of things in the 
 general society of this place which I could not have 
 thought possible. The revolution I had left, and that 
 we had just gone through in the recent change of our 
 government, being the common topic of conversa 
 tion, I was astonished to find the general prevalence 
 of monarchical sentiments, in so much, that in main 
 taining those of republicanism, I had always the whole 
 company on my hands, never scarcely finding among 
 them a single coadvocate in that argument, unless 
 some old member of Congress happened to be pres 
 ent. The furthest that any one would go in support 
 of the republican features of our government, would 
 be to say : ' The present constitution is well as a be 
 ginning, and may be allowed a fair trial, but it is, in 
 fact, only a stepping-stone to something better. ' ' 
 Had this letter of Jefferson been published in France 
 in 1790, it would have created profound astonishment, 
 and might have checked the enthusiasm of some of 
 the republicans of the day. 
 
 It had been proposed in the National Assembly that 
 all modes of worship should be tolerated in France, 
 but that the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman Church 
 should be the predominating one and the representa 
 tive of the religion of the state. Aubert Dubayet, 
 
 * W. Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 57, vol. v.
 
 190 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 according to the invitation which he had received from 
 Mirabeau, did not fail to be present when that ques 
 tion came up, and arrived just at the time when Mira 
 beau was ascending the tribune. 
 
 " I do not come here," said the orator, " to preach 
 toleration. The most unlimited freedom of religious 
 worship is to me so sacred a right that the word tol 
 eration, applied to it, sounds tyrannical to my ears, 
 because, if the State can tolerate, it can prohibit, 
 whilst no human legislation ought to interpose be 
 tween man and his Creator. Religion is a conviction 
 a feeling an opinion and surely none here, in 
 these days of national regeneration at the baptismal 
 fount of liberty, will maintain that our convictions 
 and our opinions must not be as free as the air which 
 feeds our lungs." 
 
 "Admitting that," shouted the fiery abbe Maury, 
 " it can not be denied that the manifestation of opin 
 ions may legitimately fall within the range of police 
 regulations." 
 
 " So thought and spoke Nero and Domitian," re 
 torted Mirabeau. " It was as a matter of police that 
 they persecuted the Christians, and shed the blood 
 of martyrs to maintain public order. That is the well- 
 known phrase. But who is not aware that there is a 
 slang for the imperial lips of tyranny, as well as for. 
 those of gutter-born demagogues ? " 
 
 " The kings of France," exclaimed a deputy, inter 
 rupting him, " have always been proclaimed the eldest 
 sons of the Church, and have gloried in the title. It 
 is at least certain that, on the 25th of January, 1677, 
 Louis XIV. solemnly swore in Cambrai to permit in 
 that city the existence of no other worship than the 
 Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman religion. I am a rep-
 
 AUBERT DUBAYET. 19! 
 
 resentative of Cambrai, and I claim the benefit of that 
 royal oath." 
 
 " There can be no doubt, and it can not be won 
 dered at," answered Mirabeau with the most impos 
 ing expression of calm dignity, " that, under a reign 
 which was marked by the revocation of the edict of 
 Nantes, and on which I refrain from passing judg 
 ment, a want of toleration in everything was the uni 
 form policy of the monarch. I hope, however, that 
 the acts of despots, in days of national servitude, are 
 not to be presented to our recollection as precedents 
 to be followed by the representatives of a free people. 
 But, as a historical citation has been made in connec 
 tion with the subject of our deliberations, I will take 
 the liberty of making one in my turn." He paused. 
 There was something in his manner, in his accent, in 
 his look, which made the whole Assembly hold its 
 breath. 
 
 " Remember, representatives of the people," he 
 said, " remember that here, from this very tribune 
 from which I address you, is to be seen the window of 
 the palace at which stood, on a memorable occasion, 
 a king of France, who, at the instigation of a faction 
 of fanatic traitors serving their own selfish purposes 
 in the name of the sacred interests of religion, fired, 
 with a royal hand guided by them, the fatal arquebuse 
 which gave the signal for the St. Bartholomew mas 
 sacre." 
 
 This was said with a sweeping gesticulation that 
 seemed to take in its grasp the whole Assembly and 
 to carry them to the accursed window from which 
 they could imagine that they saw the Huguenots fall 
 bleeding and shrieking on the quays of the Seine in 
 front of the Louvre. Every one looked spontaneously
 
 1 92 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 in that direction, remaining motionless and pale as if 
 stunned by a thunderbolt. This lasted but a minute 
 or two, and was followed by an enthusiastic burst of 
 applause. Mirabeau had carried by storm the decree 
 for the freedom of all modes and forms of worship on 
 the broad surface of France. 
 
 "You have been sublime," exclaimed Dubayet, 
 when he could join the orator. 
 
 " Thank you," said Mirabeau, who evidently en 
 joyed to the utmost his splendid triumph. " You 
 were born in Louisiana ; you fought for the freedom 
 of the United States. It is gratifying to me to accept 
 you as the representative of America. Faith ! It is 
 something, I think, that a voice from that distant 
 world should sweep across the ocean, and bring me in 
 your person a tribute of applause from the wilderness. 
 Well, well, I will reward you, child of the forest," and 
 he pinched playfully Dubayet's ear; "come to me 
 to-morrow, at five o'clock in the afternoon. I want 
 to make a holiday of it and take a little rest. You 
 will see Mirabeau en deshabille", and then, to complete 
 the feast, I will take you to dine with Talleyrand at 
 seven o'clock. He is the object of much obloquy, but 
 he is, after all, a princely fellow by birth, and by 
 his own making. I like him hugely. C'est un fort 
 grand seigneur et un demon d' esprit."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MIRABEAU IN HIS DRESSING-ROOM, d SO, toilette A 
 VALET WHOSE HAPPINESS CONSISTS IN BEING 
 BEATEN BY HIS MASTER. 
 
 AUBERT DUBAYET was punctual at the rendezvous. 
 Mirabeau was then living in a splendid mansion, where 
 opulence and taste had gathered all that could flatter 
 the senses. It was filled by a host of lacqueys 
 dressed in gorgeous livery; and a rich chariot, on 
 which he sported conspicuously his antique coat-of- 
 arms, was not unworthy of his blooded horses. None 
 but Mirabeau could have dared to act as he did, and 
 with impunity, but he was, at that time, the spoiled 
 pet, the idol of the people. They forgave him, or 
 did not care to notice, or to take amiss, what they 
 looked upon as vagaries and eccentricities, to which 
 they attached no offensive meaning. Careless of con 
 sequences, he who had opened a shop at Aix as a 
 cloth merchant, to ingratiate himself with the people 
 and become their representative in the great National 
 Assembly, convoked by the king he who had abdica 
 ted his nobility and apparently descended into the 
 plebeian ranks never forgot, never permitted others 
 to forget, that he was a patrician. For his domestics, 
 for his friends, for his enemies, for everybody, he was 
 the Comte de Mirabeau. There were many who won 
 dered how a man who had come to the National As 
 sembly with nothing but debts, could find the means 
 9
 
 194 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 of living like a Sardanapalus. Where was the source 
 from which he drew all the gold that he scattered 
 with such reckless profusion ? Rumors were rife, and 
 not to his credit, but still they did not affect his popu 
 larity. 
 
 When Aubert Dubayet called, he found Mirabeau 
 in a loose morning robe of elegant blue velvet, span 
 gled with gold, and slippers of the same materials, 
 giving audience to a motley crew of men and women, 
 of the lowest class. They had come to supplicate 
 him to protect them against the veto, on which the 
 National Assembly had been deliberating. The ques 
 tion was, whether under the constitution which they 
 were framing, the king should have a qualified veto, or 
 an absolute one, or no veto at all. Those who were in 
 favor of the veto intended it as an indispensable check 
 on the deliberative assemblies which would, in the 
 future, legislate for France. What the veto was in 
 reality, by far the greater number of the people could 
 not understand. But it was, in their eyes, a sort of 
 monster which assumed all sorts of imaginable shapes. 
 It was sure to deprive them of shelter, work, bread, 
 and everything else, if not devour them all. The less 
 it was understood, the more terrific it appeared in its 
 vague and indefinite form, wrapped up in mystery and 
 gloom. 
 
 "Monsieur le comte" cried the ignorant wretches 
 with tears of terror in their eyes, " you are the father 
 of the people. You are bound in duty to save us, to 
 defend us against those wicked traitors who wish to 
 surrender us, hands and feet tied up, to the bloody 
 rod of despotism. King Veto will destroy the Na 
 tional Assembly. All will be lost, and we shall be 
 slaves." The " father of the people," as he was called,
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. j 95 
 
 listened with much paternal patience to a good deal 
 of this incoherent and absurd language. The terms and 
 sentiments were frequently such as to provoke irre 
 sistible laughter. But Mirabeau looked grave and 
 compassionate, and acted his part admirably. At 
 last, with infinite art, and without committing himself 
 to any course whatever, he, in a rather lordly but af 
 fectionate manner, dismissed the petitioners, satisfied 
 with his indefinite assurances of protection. When 
 these strange visitors had departed, Mirabeau threw 
 himself upon a sofa, exclaiming : " Pho ! oh ! This 
 is intolerable. My popularity has become a burden 
 under which I am literally crushed." He rang a bell ; 
 a valet made his appearance. " Teutch," he said, 
 " close my doors, I am not in for anybody," and, turn 
 ing to Dubayet, he added : " You have no idea how 
 I am besieged a constant throng; my antechambers 
 are always crowded to suffocation." 
 
 The whole scene had appeared extremely ludicrous 
 to Dubayet, as he knew that Mirabeau had been in 
 favor of giving an absolute veto power to the king. 
 This question had come up in the National Assembly 
 before they had decided one which ought to have 
 taken the precedence that is, whether the future 
 legislative power of France, under the new constitu 
 tion, was to be divided into two chambers, or not. 
 If in two, an absolute veto was not so necessary to 
 the executive, because it was to be supposed that the 
 chambers might often disagree and not be led to act 
 on all questions in common accord, so easily as a sin 
 gle one would. Hence a qualified veto might suffice. 
 But if, in the future, the legislative branch of the gov 
 ernment, like the present one, was to continue to be but 
 one body, the absolute veto power could not be dis-
 
 1 96 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 pensed with as an appendage to royalty, which, with 
 out that protection, would be swept away like chaff, 
 the real sovereignty being only in the Assembly. 
 But even if armed with the veto, it was clear that the 
 king would not be safe in the exercise of his authority, 
 and would not be able to maintain his will against the 
 will of the representatives of the people acting in a 
 body. Hence Mirabeau, who desired the creation of 
 two chambers, but who did not know as yet whether 
 that feature would be inserted in the constitution, 
 was, as a choice of evils, in favor of the absolute veto, 
 which he intended as a temporary measure, and which 
 he thought a necessary check on popular assemblies, 
 until further developments in the work of political 
 organization should enable him to see better his way. 
 He had even spoken on the subject in the Assembly, 
 but he had purposely been so obscure and diffuse, his 
 discourse had been such a masterpiece of non-com 
 mittal, that the public in the galleries had not undcr- 
 .stood his drift ; but the National Assembly had dis 
 covered, through his sibylline language, equivocal 
 and twisted in its meaning as it was, that he stood in 
 favor of the absolute veto, and this had given great 
 offense to the fanatics in what was called the party of 
 progress. When the votes were taken on the question, 
 he had deemed it prudent to be absent. Hence the 
 people never could be made to believe, that he could 
 be friendly to the bugbear or vampire which haunted 
 their imagination. Mirabeau, being taxed by a friend 
 with moral cowardice for having shirked the respon 
 sibility of his vote on that occasion, had replied : 
 " Tut ! man, those asses [meaning his colleagues of 
 the Assembly] had brought the question premature 
 ly, I can not afford yet to lose my popularity ; I
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. ! 97 
 
 must keep it to save those fools from their own blun 
 ders. Believe me ; were I to die before accomplish- 
 ing what I have in view, those senseless reformers 
 would bring the king and themselves to the scaffold." 
 
 Whilst Mirabeau was talking, Teutch was prepar 
 ing all the necessary implements and ingredients for 
 the toilet of his master, which always lasted very long 
 and was very elaborate. Teutch had been a cele 
 brated smuggler, and wonderful traits of daring and 
 of fool-hardy courage were related of him. He was 
 a sort of tamed lion whom Mirabeau had in his serv 
 ice, and of all sublunary things he loved and admired 
 his patron the most. " Aubert," said Mirabeau, " ex 
 cuse me for a while. I must step into my cabinet, 
 where I have, besides my secretary, three men at 
 work in preparing materials for me. I'll be back in a 
 trice. I leave you with Teutch. Take care that he 
 does not eat you up, for he looks very fierce to-day "; 
 and he disappeared behind a heavy curtain in tapestry, 
 concealing a door which opened into another apart 
 ment. 
 
 " I have good reasons to be sullen," growled Teutch 
 between his teeth. 
 
 " What is the matter with you ? " said Dubayet. 
 
 " Ah ! Sir," answered Teutch, heaving a deep sigh, 
 " Monsieur le comte has been very reserved with me 
 for more than a week. He has not condescended to 
 give me the least sign of the friendly familiarity with 
 which he was in the habit of honoring me. It breaks 
 my heart ; I can not stand it any longer. But I will 
 soon put him to the test this very day. Should he 
 continue to treat me so harshly, I will blow out my 
 brains in his presence ; for there is not a single mem 
 ber of his household who could live under his dis-
 
 I gg A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 pleasure. We all adore him, and would not hesitate 
 to die for one who is so good to us, and who is the 
 honor and the pride of France." 
 
 " I am glad to hear," said Dubayet, to keep up the 
 conversation with the faithful servant, " that you ad 
 mire and love him so much." 
 
 " Admire him ! Sir, who would not ? I wish you 
 could see us peeping at him through every hole, and 
 from every nook, corner, and hiding-place, when he is 
 rehearsing." 
 
 " Rehearsing ! " 
 
 " To be sure. Thus he walks, to and fro, in that 
 large parlor where there are so many mirrors. Thus 
 he stands before one of them, swelling his chest, 
 throwing his head back, making his adversaries talk, 
 and replying to them: ' Ha! you say so and so, Mr. 
 L'abbe, Maury ! Very well; and you, Mr. Barnave, are 
 these your sentiments? Go on, and explain them 
 fully ; Mr. le comte de Mirabeau will answer you as 
 follows.' That is the way he speaks of himself. It 
 is superb, Sir. Sometimes, we are so transported with 
 admiration, that we can not refrain from betraying 
 ourselves by our applause, and he throws at our heads 
 everything that he can lay his hands upon." 
 
 Teutch was interrupted by Mirabeau, who returned 
 in a terrific fit of rage and shouted to him : " Rascal, 
 what have you done with those important papers 
 which, three hours ago, I ordered you to carry in haste 
 to my secretary ? " 
 
 " I have lost them." 
 
 " Lost them ! " echoed Mirabeau with increasing 
 wrath ; and seizing Teutch by the throat with one 
 hand, he knocked him down with the other. Teutch 
 picked himself up with a face beaming with satisfac-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. ! 99 
 
 tion, rubbing his hands in high glee and cracking his 
 sides with laughter. " Thank you, Monsieur lecomte" 
 he said with a respectful bow. " I hope you will not 
 neglect so long in the future to give me some proof 
 of your kind regard. Excuse me if I have had re 
 course to a stratagem to compel you to notice your 
 loving servant. Here are the papers," and he drew 
 them out of his pocket. 
 
 Mirabeau looked at him with stupefaction. " Who 
 on earth could believe this ?" he said. " I must beat 
 this odd fish to make him happy ! " And then, seat 
 ing himself before a table on which stood a beautiful 
 Venetian looking-glass, " Very well, Teutch," con 
 tinued he, " if you are so well pleased with the kind 
 ness which I have just now exhibited to you, return 
 the favor by dressing my hair after your best fashion ; 
 bushy bushy the lion's main, you know. Do the 
 most you can for this head of mine, whilst it is in this 
 world ; for, when it is gone, you shall not look upon 
 its like again." 
 
 Teutch began to work at the august head intrusted 
 to his care with as much solemnity as if it had been 
 that of the Olympian God whose nod shook the whole 
 vault of heaven. 
 
 " Now, dear Aubert," said Mirabeau, " whilst this 
 honest fellow operates, do me the favor to relate 
 something of interest. What have you been doing 
 of late?" 
 
 " I breakfasted this morning with the Marquis de 
 la Luzerne, General Lafayette, and Gouverneur 
 Morris." 
 
 " Pray, give me a synopsis of their conversation, if 
 it can be done without indiscretion." 
 
 " There can be no indiscretion whatever. The Mar-
 
 200 * UBER T D USA YE T. 
 
 quis de la Luzerne said to Lafayette : ' My dear gen 
 eral, I consider you as being at the head of the revo 
 lution; and, indeed, it is a very fortunate circum 
 stance for the State that you are, but very little so for 
 yourself. Never has any man been placed in a more 
 critical situation. A good citizen, a faithful subject, 
 you are embarrassed by a thousand difficulties in mak 
 ing many people sensible of what is proper, who very 
 often feel it not, and who sometimes do not under 
 stand what it is.' * 
 
 " ' It is true,' replied Lafayette, * but I hope that I 
 shall weather the storm. We have thus far advanced 
 in the career of the revolution without the vessel of 
 the State being wrecked against the rocks of aristoc 
 racy, or faction. In the midst of efforts, always re 
 newing, of the partisans of the past and of the am 
 bitious, we progress toward a tolerable conclusion. 
 At present, that which existed has been destroyed ; 
 a new political edifice is forming ; without being per 
 fect, it is sufficient to assure liberty. Thus prepared, 
 the nation will be in a state to elect, in two years, a 
 convention which can correct the faults of the consti 
 tution. The result will, I hope, be happy for our 
 country and for humanity. One perceives the germs 
 of liberty in other parts of Europe. I will encourage 
 their development by all the means in my power.' f 
 
 " ' The time approaches when all good men must 
 cling to the throne,' put in Gouverneur Morris, who, 
 as you know, is no enthusiast with regard to the rev 
 olution, and who looks on its progress with a doubt 
 ing mind. ' The present king is very valuable on ac- 
 
 * Marquis de la Luzerne's Letter to Washington, 
 f General Lafayette's Letter to Washington.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 2O I 
 
 count of his moderation ; and if he should possess 
 too much authority, might be persuaded to grant a 
 proper constitution. That thing called a constitution, 
 which the Assembly have framed, is good for nothing. 
 As to yourself, general, allow me to tell you frankly 
 that your situation is very delicate. You, nominally, 
 but not really, command the troops. Under present 
 circumstances, I do not understand how you are to 
 establish discipline among them ; but, unless you can 
 accomplish that object, you must be ruined, sooner or 
 later. Besides, you have unluckily given in to meas 
 ures, as to the constitution, which you do not heartily 
 approve, and you have heartily approved many things 
 which experience, I am afraid, will demonstrate to be 
 injurious.' * 
 
 " ' Washington gives me more encouragement than 
 you do, Morris/ replied Lafayette. ' Thus he writes 
 to me : " Happy am I, my good friend, thav, amidst 
 all the tremendous tempests which have assailed your 
 political ship, you have had address and fortitude 
 enough to steer her hitherto safely through the quick 
 sands and rocks which threatened instant destruction 
 on every side, and that your young king, in all things, 
 seems so well disposed to conform to the wishes of 
 the nation. In such an important, such a hazardous 
 voyage, when everything dear and sacred is embarked, 
 you know full well, my best wishes have never left 
 you for a moment. Yet I will avow, that the accounts 
 we received through the English papers, which were 
 sometimes our only channel of information, caused 
 our fears of failure almost to exceed our expectations 
 of success." ' " 
 
 * Morris to Washington, 22d of January, 1790.
 
 202 * USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 11 Aubert Dubayet," said Mirabeau, " the fears of 
 Washington are not chimerical. Already has the 
 Jacobin club of Paris sent forth ramifications through 
 out France ; corresponding clubs are springing up by 
 hundreds in the provinces, and everything is hurry 
 ing forward to a catastrophe."* 
 
 " I rely on Lafayette and his popularity," observed 
 Dubayet. 
 
 " Bah ! What virgin innocence ! " replied Mirabeau. 
 " Lafayette has no energy. He has some talent, I 
 admit, but it is of a uniform mediocrity. He always 
 possesses it and finds it ready at hand when wanted, 
 but he never rises above its level. Is that enough ? 
 No. When the wind of revolution blows into a tem 
 pest, it is not the hand of mediocrity that will steer 
 the ship safely into port. As to popularity! Whew ! 
 He who relies on it, reckons without his host, or 
 rather attempts to ride and to guide the ever-chang 
 ing wind. Remember that there is but one step from 
 the capitol to the Tarpeian rock." 
 
 At that moment his secretary came in, and said to 
 him : "Monsieur le comte, I regret that I am compelled 
 to inform you, in my name and on behalf of the gen 
 tlemen employed with me, that it is impossible to do 
 the work which you require of us within the time you 
 specify." 
 
 "Impossible!" exclaimed Mirabeau, starting up. 
 " Never use, when addressing me, that stupid word. 
 Go back, Sir, and execute what I have told you, or I 
 will do it myself, to show you that nothing is impos 
 sible." 
 
 By this time, Teutch had done dressing and pow- 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 73, vol. v.
 
 A UBER T D USA YE T. 
 
 dering Mirabeau's head. The great man rose, and, 
 looking complacently at himself in the glass before 
 him, said : " It is very well, Teutch ; this is exactly 
 to my taste. Now, give me the coat that fits me the 
 best ; you know which it is. Mind you, don't forget 
 to sprinkle my handkerchief with the perfume which 
 La Guimard sent me yesterday." Another look at 
 the glass. " People say, Aubert Dubayet, that I am 
 very ugly. But none but myself has any conception 
 of the secret power of my ugliness. There is magic 
 in it. By-the-by, Teutch, I am sorry that I omitted 
 to fence with you this morning. It follows that I 
 don't feel as well as usual. But I am always so much 
 engaged ! I have so much to do ! What time have 
 I for recreation, O God ! I assure you, Dubayet, that 
 Teutch is the best swordsman in the kingdom, but 
 he is no match for me, though. Teutch, give me a 
 pair of gloves one of that set which I won from my 
 cousin, the Duchess de Guise. Are you fond of swim 
 ming, Dubayet?" 
 
 " Not in the least." 
 
 "I regret it for your sake. It is so invigorating! 
 I swim better than Leander ever did. Do you like 
 riding on horseback? " 
 
 " Very." 
 
 " You are right ; it is a delightful exercise. When 
 I was a captain of dragoons in Corsica, I was reputed 
 the best horseman my companions had ever known 
 a real centaur ; and yet, I am a better shot than I am 
 a horseman. I snuff a candle at forty paces. Have 
 you been taught to use the brush of the painter, 
 Dubayet?" 
 
 " Yes, a little ; I have drawn landscapes." 
 
 " Well, Sir, I have missed my vocation. I should
 
 204 A UBER T D UBA 
 
 have been a painter. I might have equalled Raphael. 
 But my forte is music. The fact is, that nature has 
 been pleased to exhaust her gifts on me. It is really 
 singular almost unique. The world, however, is 
 very little appreciative in its taste, and very unjust 
 often in its judgment. For instance, people talk of 
 nothing else than my eloquence, as if I had no other 
 merit. I assure you, Dubayet, that if I am anything 
 at all, it is a musician. I am a genius in that line, 
 and yet nobody gives me credit for it. I know but 
 one man that is superior to me. It is Tintin Calan- 
 dro, the chief of the troop of musicians in the serv 
 ice of the princess de Lamballe. But he is superhu 
 man ; he must have stolen his violin from heaven, as 
 Prometheus stole the celestial fire. The princess de 
 Lamballe did me the favor to lend him to me at the 
 last concert which I gave, and of late he visits me 
 often, and we play together. I have improved won 
 derfully under him. By-the-by, I understand that 
 he is your friend." 
 
 " From boyhood ; he is a college chum." 
 " They are the best friends. The next time you 
 come to see me, Dubayet, I must find leisure to de 
 claim for you some of the finest passages in Corneille 
 and Racine. I shall show you hidden beauties in 
 them of which you never dreamed. I could have 
 been, if I had chosen, the greatest actor of the age. 
 When starving in Holland, I was once tempted to ap 
 pear on the stage. Fie! what an idea! A Riquetti, 
 Count de Mirabeau, a stage player! My gorge rose 
 at it. I felt instinctively that there would yet be an 
 other stage for me the one on which I figure now." 
 Pulling out his watch, " But I almost forget myself ; 
 ** is time to go. Teutch, watch those fellows who
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 2 Q$ 
 
 are scribbling for me. Don't allow them to play 
 truant when I am gone. Keep them at work, steady. 
 Give them every hour a glass of iced champagne, fol 
 lowed by a cup of hot coffee ; but no more, mind 
 you. My enemies, Dubayet and, of course, I have 
 many, for I could not have blazed like a comet on the 
 horizon of Europe, without having an innumerable 
 pack of dogs to bark at me my enemies, I say, re 
 proach me with plagiarism, and maintain that I am 
 indebted to others, whom I employ, for a good deal 
 of the display of knowledge which I make. The 
 fact is, that I have my masons to bring stones and 
 mortar for the edifices I intend to erect. But I, 
 alone, am the architect the Michael Angelo. Teutch, 
 see if my carriage is ready, and put my cloak in it." 
 
 " But really, count," said Dubayet, " I have scru 
 ples about accompanying you. I have not been in 
 vited by Mr. de Talleyrand." 
 
 " What of that ? Do you not come with me ? He 
 will be delighted to see you, and you will be still 
 more delighted to know him." 
 
 " I confess that I rather dislike the bishop of Autun. 
 A priest should be a priest, and he is none." 
 
 " Better be no priest at all than a bad one. He 
 will, before long, have himself secularized, I have no 
 doubt. He was born for the world, and not for the 
 cloister. Depend upon it, he is one of the shrewdest 
 and strongest minds of the age. He will make his 
 mark on it. Dubayet, it is advisable that you should 
 cultivate him. He is one of those men who always 
 contrive to be at the apex of the social pyramid." 
 
 " He has the reputation of being cold and haughty 
 absolutely repulsive." 
 
 " Pshaw ! Mr. de Talleyrand in his intimacy is very
 
 2o6 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 different from Mr. de Talleyrand in public. It is 
 true that he never forgets his descent from one of the 
 noblest and oldest families of France. His ancestors 
 were sovereign counts by the grace of God, and reign 
 ed in their broad domains by the same right as that 
 by which the Majesty of France reigned in his own 
 kingdom. He retains, therefore, in his social inter 
 course, the dignity which befits his birth, but he has 
 also the high-toned courtesy which is its inseparable 
 appendage. Now as to his character. I must give 
 you an insight into it. I have no doubt that it must 
 have felt the influence of those circumstances which 
 attended him from early youth. He was the eldest- 
 born, but, as he was club-footed, his father compelled 
 him to renounce his right of primogeniture and drove 
 him into holy orders, for which he had no vocation. 
 He could have been an ecclesiastic, only after the 
 fashion of the cardinal de Retz, who had adopted a 
 dagger for his breviary. Hated and ill-treated by his 
 parents, under whose roof he had never been per 
 mitted to sleep, he was, in his infancy, taciturn and 
 sombre, and has grown up with that disposition. 
 When at the seminary, he used to live apart, and 
 within himself, and his habitual gloominess, which 
 rendered him unsociable, had given him the reputa 
 tion of being haughty. Condemned to be a church 
 man, he has neither adopted the sentiments nor the 
 conduct that would have become his profession. He 
 has even overstepped those broad limits which the 
 indulgence of a lax society has allowed to high rank 
 and youth. His morality is not clerical, but he is a 
 strict observer of proprieties, and, whatever may be 
 his habits and his way of thinking, no one knows bet 
 ter than he what may be spoken, and what not ! He
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 2O/ 
 
 may perhaps be suspected of having somewhat the 
 ambition of being impressive and imposing, by assum 
 ing that air of reserve with the aid of which some 
 men will pass themselves off as being deep. But he 
 needs no artifice of the kind, for he is by nature un- 
 fathomably deep. At first sight, he will generally be 
 thought frigid. When among those with whom he is 
 not familiar, he speaks little and listens with much 
 attention. He keeps aloof, as it were, never exposes 
 himself, and puts on a complete armor from head to 
 foot. He has not apparently the social characteris 
 tics of the French, and does not exhibit their nation 
 al vivacity, familiarity, indiscretion, and gaiety. His 
 language is sententious, his politeness is cold, and the 
 expression of his physiognomy that of a man who 
 examines and studies those in whose company he 
 finds himself. To shake off or punish indiscretion, 
 or presumption, or to guard himself against any ap 
 proach which he foresees and dislikes, he has the art 
 of dropping a short sarcasm, or sentence, impregnated 
 with prussic acid. It is instant death. So much for 
 his behavior in the outside world, when moving in 
 it." 
 
 "You frighten me," said Dubayet. 
 
 " There is no reason for it. Within the circle of 
 his intimate society, and remember that it is into that 
 circle I wish to introduce you, Talleyrand transforms 
 himself into another being. He is cordial in manner, 
 affable, and free in language. He takes a keen pleas 
 ure in conversation, in which he likes to perform an 
 active part, and which he frequently prolongs to late 
 hours in the night. On those occasions, he is familiar, 
 even caressing, extremely and minutely attentive to 
 please. He wishes to be amusing and amused ; he is
 
 2o8 J UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 never in a hurry to speak, but, when he opens his lips, 
 it is to give way* to the purest atticism of language 
 and sentiments. He never says anything which is 
 commonplace or insignificant. There is depth of 
 thought, piquancy of allusion, or the sharpest wit al 
 most in every phrase which he utters, and yet so deli 
 cately veiled, as to be appreciated only by those who 
 are accustomed to his manner and to the refined at 
 mosphere of his intellect. But enough, let us de 
 part ; come and see if this portrait is correct. I have 
 already told you that I am a Raphael."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A DINNER PARTY TALLEYRAND AND HIS GUESTS. 
 
 AUBERT DUBAYET, introduced by Mirabeau, was 
 received by Talleyrand with the most cordial urban 
 ity, as predicted by his friend, and, in a few minutes, 
 was made to feel as much at ease as if he had long 
 been on a footing of intimacy with his host. The 
 dinner was perfect, and most of the guests were men 
 whose names will ever live in the pages of history. 
 Talleyrand was particularly attentive to his new 
 guest, as if he intended to make him understand that 
 he was at once admitted into the privileged circle of 
 those who had free access to his house, and encourage 
 him to future intercourse. He asked him what were 
 the news from America. 
 
 " None of very great importance," replied Aubert 
 Dubayet, " save a sharp conflict in Congress about the 
 creation of a national bank, which measure was urged 
 upon them, as a matter of policy, by Alexander Ham 
 ilton in his annual treasury report. On one side, it 
 is deemed that the constitution has not given to Con 
 gress the power of incorporating such an institution ; 
 on the other side, it is insisted that it is incident to 
 the power vested in Congress for raising money. The 
 question, after being argued at length and with great 
 vehemence, was solved in the affirmative by both 
 houses, who voted in favor of the expediency and 
 constitutionality of the measure." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " I consider the question of uncon- 
 
 (209)
 
 210 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 stitutionality, on that occasion, as of very little impor 
 tance. All constitutions are baubles given to the 
 childish multitude to amuse and cajole them into 
 being docile under the guidance of their demagogue 
 leaders. If the Congress of the United States derive 
 from the grant of the power to coin money, that of 
 creating a paper currency, which is the reverse of 
 money, and which is only resorted to as a poor sub 
 stitute when no money can be coined, what will they 
 do, in the course of time, under that sweeping clause 
 which says that they shall provide for the general 
 welfare ? That phrase, short as it is, puts me in 
 mind of that small magic carpet of which I have read 
 in some Arabian tale, and which, when laid down, 
 covered only one foot of ground, but could be so 
 stretched as to envelope the whole earth. Under that 
 clause in the instrument to which I refer, and under 
 the plea of necessity which is unavoidably connected 
 with it, I am very sure it will be found out before 
 long, that the boasted constitution of the model re 
 public is of so light and flexible a texture, that des 
 potism can drive through it in a coach and four with 
 absolute ease. But, what side took Washington in 
 that conflict? " 
 
 Aubert Dubayet. "Washington was fully alive to 
 the magnitude of the question, and to the interest 
 felt in it by the opposing parties. He requested each 
 member of his Cabinet to give his opinion in writing. 
 The Cabinet was divided. Jefferson and Randolph 
 denied the constitutionality of the measure ; Hamil 
 ton and Knox maintained it. After maturely weigh 
 ing their arguments for and against, Washington 
 sanctioned the measure, which was carried into 
 effect."
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET, 21 1 
 
 Talleyrand. " I regret it ; for I wish I could have 
 used the authority of Washington to oppose it to Mr. 
 de Mirabeau, who intends advocating in the National 
 Assembly the emission of assignats, or paper money." 
 
 Aubcrt Dubayet. "You have Jefferson on your 
 side, who, perhaps, will be of greater authority with a 
 certain portion of the Assembly than Washington 
 himself, for it was not alone on constitutional grounds 
 that Jefferson was opposed to the creation of a na 
 tional bank. It was also because he had always 
 avowed himself inimical to banks as introducing a 
 paper instead of a cash system, raising up a moneyed 
 aristocracy, and scattering over the broad face of the 
 country a locust host of greedy stock-jobbers and 
 swindlers. He thinks that paper money may have 
 some advantages, but that its abuses are inevitable, 
 and that, by breaking up the measure of value, it 
 makes a lottery of all private property. But he has 
 other reasons which may be more urgent with him in 
 the present instance.* He considers the bank as a 
 powerful engine intended by Hamilton to complete 
 the machinery by which the whole action of the Leg 
 islature is to be placed under the direction of the 
 Treasury, and shaped to further a monarchical system 
 of government. He affirms that Washington is un 
 versed in financial projects, calculations, and budgets, 
 and that his approbation of this measure was bottom 
 ed on his confidence in Hamilton, of whose schemes 
 he does not see the drift. The fact is, that Hamilton 
 and Jefferson, to use Mr. Jefferson's own words, are 
 pitted in the Cabinet like two cocks." 
 
 Mirabeau. " Just as L'abbe Maury and myself are 
 
 Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 80, vol. v.
 
 212 AUBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 pitted in the National Assembly. Monsieur L'abbe, I 
 drink to your good health with this exquisite cham 
 pagne. May you be a cardinal one day ! " The abbe. 
 bowed in acknowledgment, with a smile which seemed 
 to mean that, in his opinion, such an event was far 
 from being an impossibility. 
 
 " In the meantime," continued Aubert Dubayet, 
 " two political parties have formed themselves 
 throughout the Union, under the adverse standards 
 of these two statesmen. Both have the good of their 
 country at heart, but differ as to the policy by which 
 it is to be secured." 
 
 " Just like Monsieur le Comte de Mirabeau and my 
 self," said L'abbe Maury, bowing slightly to that per 
 sonage, who sat opposite to him. " My dear col 
 league, permit me to return the compliment which 
 you have paid me. I drink to your health in this 
 ruby-looking burgundy. May your shadow never 
 grow less ! " 
 
 " My shadow ! Monsieur L'abbe" replied Mirabeau, 
 laughing. " What do you mean ? You forget that I 
 am all light. But pardon us this interruption, Du 
 bayet. Mr. L'abbe Maury and myself will never cease 
 to be boyish. Pray, go on." 
 
 Aubert Dubayet. "The Federalists, who look up 
 to Hamilton as their model, are in favor of strength 
 ening the General Government so as to give it weight 
 and dignity abroad, and efficacy at home, whilst 
 guarding it against the encroachments of the indi 
 vidual States and a general tendency to anarchy. The 
 other party, known as Republicans or Democrats, 
 taking Mr. Jefferson's view of affairs, see in all the 
 measures advocated by the Federalists an intention 
 to convert the Federal into a great central or consol-
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 213 
 
 idated government, preparatory to a change from a 
 republic to a monarchy." 
 
 Labbe Sieyes (emerging from a sort of reverie, and 
 talking, as it were, to himself in a fit of abstraction). 
 " I am sorry that the Americans did not consult me. 
 I should have greatly improved their constitution, and 
 given them an unsurpassed declaration of the rights 
 of man. For, political economy is a science which I 
 have literally exhausted." 
 
 Mirabeau (nudging with his elbow Aubert Dubayet, 
 next to whom he was seated). " Did you ever hear 
 the like of it ? I would rap him for it on the knuckles, 
 were I not afraid of running foul of his implacable 
 vanity. Mine, of which everybody talks so much, 
 and which is 'dwarfish when compared to the gigantic 
 one of this man, is at least good-natured and sociable, 
 whilst that of the abbe is as ferocious as a cannibal. 
 Beware -of him. Habet fcenum in cornu." 
 
 Dupont de Nemours. " I have listened with great 
 interest to what has been said on the United States. 
 As we are advised to follow their example in their 
 late revolutionary struggle, and, like them, to issue 
 paper money to carry us through our own revolution, 
 I beg leave to ask Mr. Dubayet if he knows for what 
 sum, in continental money, I could procure a pair of 
 boots in New York." 
 
 A ubert Dubayet. " Probably fifty thousand dollars." 
 
 Dupont de Nemours. " And what would cost such a 
 dinner as this?" 
 
 Aubert Dubayet. " About five millions, I presume." 
 
 Dupont de Nemours. " What do you say of that, 
 Mr. de Mirabeau ? " 
 
 Mirabeau. " I say that, without the continental 
 money at which you laugh, the Americans could not
 
 214 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 have achieved successfully what they have performed. 
 That it should have become worthless is a great evil, 
 but it would have been a greater one, if they had 
 failed to shake off the yoke of Great Britain, and to 
 establish their present government on the basis of 
 the broadest liberty. I shall give in full my reasons 
 in favor of the contemplated emission of assignats, 
 when the question is discussed in the National As 
 sembly. You will then have the opportunity to 
 refute me." 
 
 Dupont de Nemours. " I will attempt it ; in the 
 meantime, I predict that the fate of the continental 
 paper money of America will be that of all paper 
 money to the end of time, and that, before the ex 
 piration of this century, you will not be able, Mr. de 
 Mirabeau, to buy a truffled turkey with a million of 
 livres in assignats" 
 
 Barnave. " The civilized world is emancipating 
 itself from the thraldom of its old prejudices. It is 
 getting rejuvenated, and youth, we know, must sow 
 its wild oats and get into debt. The human mind 
 now teems with new conceptions of hitherto unheard 
 of improvements in political economy, in the science 
 of navigation and war, in the mechanical arts, and in 
 everything else. Nations have not the pecuniary 
 means to carry into execution those discoveries which 
 are daily crowding upon us ; for, progress is a God who 
 incessantly vouchsafes new inspirations to his wor 
 shipers. Hence nations must borrow, to keep pace 
 with one another and to meet the exigencies of their 
 epoch ; they must establish credit as a national and 
 fundamental institution, and they must draw on pos 
 terity, who must and will honor the draft." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " Barnave is right as to the fact
 
 A UBERT DUB A YET. 2 1 5 
 
 that this is the present tendency of the world. Ere 
 long, every nation, no doubt, will have its national 
 debt and its national stocks, with their inevitable up 
 and down movement, thus licensing public gambling 
 and spreading universal demoralization. I predict 
 that, before the expiration of the nineteenth century ,1 
 all civilized nations will be so heavily saddled with 
 their increasing debts, that they will be horribly 
 taxed merely to pay the interests, and that, in the 
 beginning of the twentieth century, the burden will 
 be so crushing, that there will be a general repudia 
 tion." 
 
 Chamfort. " Why not ? I see no harm in it. Im 
 mense material improvements will be the results of 
 those national debts, be they contracted for wars, or 
 for peaceful purposes. When repudiation shall take 
 place, the burden will be removed, but the benefit 
 will remain. It will be all gain without any incum- 
 brances attached to it." 
 
 La Rochefoucauld. " You horrify me. What ! Vio 
 late the national faith and reduce thousands to beg 
 gary ! " 
 
 CJiamfort. " There is not a nation in the world, 
 Monsieur le due, which has not violated more than 
 once, in every century, its public faith pledged in 
 solemn treaties. Suppose that a national debt is so 
 overwhelming that it can not be paid either in the 
 present or in the future, because, under emergencies 
 which are constantly recurring, it is forever increas 
 ing in bulk. The nation is perishing under the fatal 
 incubus; excessive taxation destroys its agricultural, 
 commercial, and industrial resources ; it loses its 
 vigor, its rank among the powers of the earth, and 
 can not support those armies which are necessary to
 
 2 1 6 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 protect it against the ambition of its neighbors. Re 
 pudiate, I say, repudiate at once and without hesita 
 tion ; for repudiation must come at last, since the 
 debt can not be paid ; have the moral courage which 
 the occasion requires ; cut off the cancer which 
 threatens life. Salus populi, suprcma lex ; the salva 
 tion of the commonwealth is the supreme law. Do 
 not nations go to war, as a matter of necessity, and 
 sacrifice often one million of men, who thus are lost to 
 productive labor? Why, then, hesitate to repudiate, 
 in case also of absolute necessity, or reduce the debt 
 to proportions which will not be necessarily destruc 
 tive to the debtor, although it may impoverish the 
 same number of men that war would kill? Those 
 impoverished men would, at least, remain living and 
 active, and would find work and assistance in a com 
 munity that shall have become suddenly rich and 
 prosperous by being freed from an indebtedness which 
 it was impossible to remove by payment. Surely the 
 sufferings inflicted by repudiation would not be equal 
 to those resulting from war. Suppose poor, op 
 pressed, decrepit, and insolvent Spain, should, by one 
 bold stroke of the pen, expunge her national debt, 
 imposed upon her by rulers who went beyond the 
 powers constitutionally delegated to them, and ruined 
 the generous people who had confided in them. 
 There would be a loud clamor, senseless cries of 
 shame shame ! But, after all, what would be the 
 practical consequences? Some Spaniards would live 
 less comfortably, but none would perish from hunger, 
 I'll warrant ; whilst the whole nation would spring up, 
 with the vigor of a giant, from the earth to which 
 she has been crushed down, and develop with un- 
 trammeled energy the wonderful resources with which
 
 A UBERT DUB A YET. 2 1/ 
 
 she has been endowed ; and should her example not 
 be followed why, the Spanish genet, with no other 
 weight than that of its light saddle and nimble rider, 
 would soon distance in the career of prosperity the 
 heavy-loaded pack-horses of France, England, Italy, 
 and Germany, carrying with panting breath the grind 
 ing mill-stones accumulated on their cracked backs 
 by centuries of misrule and imbecility, or savage lust 
 and selfish ambition. As to the foreign creditors, 
 they could not complain, when put on the same foot 
 ing with the natives." 
 
 La Rochefoucauld. "And the immorality of the 
 act ? " 
 
 Chamfort. " There would be no immorality in it. 
 Why should not a nation go honestly into bank 
 ruptcy, like a private individual, when her resources 
 are really and truly exhausted ? If, in such circum 
 stances, a man is not disgraced, why should a nation?" 
 
 La Rochefoucauld. " Repudiation or bankruptcy 
 would immediately destroy public credit, which is 
 the life of a nation." 
 
 Chamfort. " It might increase it, because the re 
 sources of the State to pay future debts would be 
 greater, and capitalists, who are ever so anxious to 
 loan money securely and to own stocks, would feel 
 that such another act of bankruptcy would not be 
 probable, and would not become an absolute necessity 
 within several centuries. What mortal ken would 
 look through such a long vista of years, to antici 
 pate consequences so remote?" 
 
 Dupont de Nemours. " I beg leave, Monsieur le due, 
 
 to deny, with due deference to your opinion, that 
 
 public credit is the life of a nation. Who ever heard 
 
 of the national loans of Rome, and yet Rome had 
 
 10
 
 2i8 AUBERT DUBAYET. 
 
 life in her, I presume? Who ever heard of the 
 Babylonian, Assyrian, or Egyptian loans being huck 
 stered about like crockery ware? Did those nations 
 who built magnificent capitals whose population ex 
 ceeded that of ours, issue bonds on papyrus, or or 
 leather, or on wood, or brass tablets, or on any othci 
 durable materials, to carry on their eternal wars, 01 
 to erect those stupendous monuments which excite 
 our wonder and admiration ? Were their stocks 
 quoted at the exchange-rooms of Nineveh, Babylon 
 Alexandria, and Rome, rising and falling according 
 to the thermometer of circumstances? Until recenl 
 times, nations existed without manifesting that ex 
 istence by the creation of paper pyramids of nationa 
 bonds and national rag currency. We have lately 
 witnessed the mighty struggle of little Prussia, with 
 a population of five millions, against the combined 
 forces of France, Austria, and Russia. She came out 
 victorious without having had recourse to a loan, and 
 therefore without a debt. Why can not we do like 
 her, and like all the nations of antiquity? " 
 
 Mirabeau. " Because the complexion and face oi 
 things have changed. Every age has its own peculiai 
 spirit and its own peculiar destiny. The crusaders 
 fitted the times they lived in, and Europe has evei 
 since passed through inevitable transformations. Nc 
 banker, for instance, could have been a minister undei 
 Louis XIV. Now, a banker, Mr. de Necker, is a 
 minister under Louis XVI., and the idol of the peo 
 ple. Be it for good or for evil, this is the age ol 
 bankers, speculators, and stock-jobbers, of public credit 
 and national debt. They will have their phase ol 
 allotted existence, and will pass away like everything 
 else. But, in the meantime, public credit will build
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 219 
 
 cities, cover the seas with fleets, carry commerce and 
 civilization to the extremities of the earth, and stim 
 ulate the mind of man into inventions and into the 
 execution of works, before which those of past ages 
 ,vill be insignificant." 
 
 Talleyrand. " Mr. de Mirabeau takes a correct view 
 of what is to happen. I have no doubt, from the 
 signs of the times, that a sudden rage for material 
 improvements will become epidemic, that the acqui 
 sition of wealth will be the ruling passion of the age, 
 and that every one in Christendom will be eager to 
 provide himself with an easy rocking-chair. I have 
 no doubt that the day will come when, in the pursuit 
 of every sort of wild schemes, generated by cupidity, 
 every nation, every capital, every city, town, village, 
 or corporation, as well as individuals, will have their 
 irredeemable bonds, or promissory notes, floating 
 on every sea in the tempest-torn boat of public 
 credit." 
 
 L'abbe. Maury. " What will be the end of this beau 
 tiful state of things ? " 
 
 Talleyrand. " A crash." 
 
 Mirabeau. " Well, let it be a crash. Who is afraid 
 of a crash ? Was not the original fall of man a crash ? 
 Was not the deluge a crash? Was not the destruc 
 tion of the Roman empire a crash ? The records of 
 mankind are but the history of crashes. And yet, 
 notwithstanding all those crashes, the world still moves 
 on, affording more or less comfort to those who live 
 in it." 
 
 Chamfort (with that bland intonation of voice 
 which he always affected, when he intended to be 
 otherwise than deferential) : " You said, Mr. de Mira 
 beau, that what you call the age of bankers, stock-
 
 22O * USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 jobbers, and public credit, would pass away. Have 
 you any idea of what will succeed it ? " 
 
 Mirabeau. " Of course I have. Was I ever with 
 out an idea on anything? I think that the next 
 mania will be about the abolition of marriage, of pub 
 lic credit, of national and private indebtedness, the 
 amalgamation of all races, a chemical mixture of all 
 religions, the promulgation of the doctrine of equal 
 ity and fraternity, not only among men, but also be 
 tween them and the lower animals ; the creation of 
 liberty mutual insurance companies among nations, 
 and the emancipation of women, who will wear 
 breeches and enjoy all the political, social, and other 
 rights of man, now known, or to be discovered in the 
 future. The abolition of marriage must certainly 
 suit you, Mr. Chamfort, for you are always preaching 
 against it ; you best know why ; and if perchance you 
 should object to a woman being a politician, you 
 might be glad to accept her as a physician. It is said, 
 you know, that the lance of Achilles could cure the 
 wounds which it inflicted." 
 
 This was a bitter retort ; for Mirabeau was irritated 
 at the familiar tone of levity with which he had been 
 addressed. As to Chamfort, he became very pale and 
 bit his lips. He had the misfortune of being a bas 
 tard, and was reported to have one of those shameful 
 and incurable diseases which are the result of dissolute 
 ness. Mirabeau's sarcastic allusions were understood 
 by all, and a general titter, which could hardly be 
 suppressed, increased the uncomfortable feelings of 
 Chamfort. Fortunately, the archbishop of Aix, \\ho 
 was extremely dull, and who had been struck with 
 the words, "a chemical mixture of all religions," said 
 in a doleful tone : " I should not be astonished at the
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 22 1 
 
 sacrilegious attempt. For, what are we not coming 
 to in these days of portentous changes ? Has not an 
 attack been already made in the National Assembly 
 against the collection of the tithe appropriated for 
 the support of the clergy ? the tithe ! that voluntary 
 offering of the piety of the faithful." 
 
 " True, the tithe ! " said the Duke de la Rochefau- 
 cauld, with that air of simplicity and modesty which 
 was habitual to him, and which gave more piquancy 
 to his remarks, "the tithe! that voluntary offering 
 of the piety of the faithful, about the payment of 
 which there are forty thousand lawsuits in France ! " 
 
 This time there was a frank and unrestrained ex 
 pression of hilarity, but L'abbe Maury came to the 
 rescue of the archbishop. " If we were only spoliated," 
 he said, " of our prescriptive and time-honored right 
 to tithes, it would be comparatively nothing, for we 
 are threatened with being robbed even of our landed 
 possessions, which were royal or private donations, 
 or the fruits of our industry and economy, and to 
 which every century, as it passed, has affixed its 
 sacred seal with the sanction of religion and of the 
 State." 
 
 " There can be nothing sacred in what is oppres 
 sive," replied Mirabeau. " If this be true, it justifies 
 the abolition of tithes, for they are the most oppres 
 sive of burdens. For instance, suppose a piece of 
 ground produces twelve sacks of corn to a peasant. 
 If you deduct the rent, the cost of cultivation, the 
 wear and tear of implements, etc., there remains one- 
 half, to wit : six sacks, out of which three sacks are 
 to be taken to meet what is due to the king and other 
 official claimants. Thus the twelve sacks are reduced 
 to three. Is that all ? No. Now comes the hand of
 
 222 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 the priest, who, in the name of God, takes one sack, 
 which represents, after having magnanimously thrown 
 out a fraction, the tenth part of the gross produce ; 
 so that, out of the twelve sacks of corn which the 
 laborer has extracted from the bowels of the earth by 
 the sweat of his brow, he retains two for his subsist- 
 ence and that of his family ; and this is what is called 
 the legitimate property of the clergy ! I maintain 
 that, far from being property, it does not amount 
 even to possession. The tithe is merely a contribu 
 tion, a tax for the support of public worship which 
 tax can be modified, changed, or abolished at will by 
 the legislative power. It is a subsidy, a salary given 
 by the nation to the professors of moral and religious 
 instruction." 
 
 Labbz Maury. " Bravo ! bravo ! This is worthy of 
 the new era into which we are entering. I like the 
 novelty of these expressions. Priests are no longer 
 the apostles of Christ, the ministers of God, but the 
 professors of moral and religious instruction for a 
 stipulated salary. Go on, Mr. de Mirabeau ; go on." 
 
 Archbishop of Aix. " For my part, I tell him not 
 to go on. I protest against this word salary, applied 
 to the Church to the spouse of Christ." 
 
 Mirabeau. " I see, Monseigneur, that this word, 
 salary, wounds your sense of sacerdotal dignity. I am 
 sorry for it. But it is time, in the face of a revolution 
 which has produced so many just and generous senti 
 ments, and expelled forever so many gothic preju 
 dices, that the pretensions of ignorant pride should be 
 set aside. I know for man in society but three modes 
 of existence. He must be a beggar, a thief, or a work- 
 man for a salary." 
 
 Chamfort. " What becomes of the proprietor? If
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 223 
 
 he is neither a beggar, nor a thief, he must be ranked, 
 I suppose, among those who work for a salary, or 
 wages." 
 
 Mirabeau. "To be sure. The proprietor must be 
 classed among those who receive a salary. It is the 
 law, and the law alone, which establishes and main 
 tains property. The proprietor is a mere agent, or ad 
 ministrator, appointed or tolerated for the benefit of 
 the social body. He pays, or must be made to pay, 
 to the members of the community to which he belongs, 
 a large proportion of the revenue of the property 
 which that community allows him to possess, and in 
 the possession of which it protects him. He pays it in 
 the shape of expenses of all sorts for his living, for the 
 gratification of his tastes or appetites, and in taxes. 
 What remains is his salary for his taking care, in a 
 special manner, of what, for the public good, has been 
 intrusted to his administration, and belongs, after all, 
 to the whole community. He has only been permit 
 ted to acquire it, and apparently to appropriate it to 
 himself out of the common fund, as a sort of reward 
 or social pre-eminence, granted to him for his labor, 
 or the labor of the ancestors from whom he inherits 
 it, and with a view to produce an emulation of indus 
 try. ' I know that this does not agree with the vul 
 garly acknowledged definition of property, but it does 
 not follow that it is not the correct one, or the one, at 
 least, which is in conformity with the enlarged views 
 of the present day." 
 
 Archbishop of Aix. "Count, you must be joking. 
 I would call this the sophistry of the devil, gentlemen, 
 if it did not come out of the polite and Christian lips 
 of Mr. de Mirabeau, who, I know, does not profess to 
 be a heathen."
 
 224 A UBER T D UBA YE T - 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " We must not be angry, Monscig- 
 neur. I assure you that this doctrine is not of Mr. de 
 Mirabeau, who can not claim, on this occasion, the 
 rights of authorship or originality. It is the ingenious 
 invention of that new-fangled philosophy which is em 
 bodied in the ' Social Contract ' of Jean Jacques Rous 
 seau, who, notwithstanding the title of his book, is the 
 apostle of social disorganization. But you will permit 
 the benighted like me, Mr. de Mirabeau, to cling to 
 the Scriptural doctrine. It is not by any human law, 
 nor by any social contract, nor by any assent of his 
 fellow-beings, that man holds his title to property. 
 He derives it from God himself. In the beginning of 
 the world, the Creator gave to man dominion over the 
 earth, over the fish of the sea, and the fowls of the air, 
 and over every living thing. This is the foundation 
 of man's property in the earth and in all its produc 
 tions. Prior occupancy of the land which he cleared, 
 and of the wild animals which he subjugated, gave to 
 the first possessor the first property. To his own 
 energy and industry he was indebted, under God, for 
 it, and not to any imaginary contract with his fellow- 
 men. The proprietor is not the steward of the State, 
 but the steward of God. The State has no right to 
 take a cent from his hard earnings, or from the accu 
 mulated hoard of his ancestors, to distribute it to the 
 needy, and probably to the vicious. When the State 
 says to me : 4 Give half of your cloak to the poor, as 
 the payment of a legitimate debt,' I rebel against 
 the order, as the dictate of injustice and tyranny. But 
 when God says : ' Give in charity half of what you 
 possess, not because it is not your own, but because 
 it is,' I obey cheerfully the mandate of justice and 
 love, conveyed to me in the language of truth."
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 2 2$ 
 
 Talleyrand. " I have no doubt that the National 
 Assembly will not only abolish tithes, but will even 
 dispossess the clergy of all the property which they 
 hold as religious corporations. I must confess that 
 the clergy does not seem to me to be a proprietor 
 after the fashion of other proprietors, because the 
 property which they possess has not been given to 
 them personally, and to subserve their private interests, 
 but has been assigned to them as a body, or as the 
 members of a body, to enable them to perform cer 
 tain functions. What was the object of the donors? 
 To provide for the poor, for the building and repair 
 ing of temples, hospitals, institutions of charity, and 
 of public education, and for the expenses incidental 
 to the keeping up of the religious worship approved 
 by the nation. The clergy were bound to reserve for 
 their personal wants only a small portion of those 
 revenues. They were administrators or trustees. If 
 the State assumes, as it is determined to do for the 
 greater benefit of the nation, all the obligations im 
 posed upon the clergy as conditions on which they 
 hold the property given to them, and provides for 
 their subsistence, surely it has the right to dispose of 
 that property. The intentions of the donors have been 
 fulfilled, and the clergy have no cause to complain. It 
 can not be denied that corporations can only exist by 
 the creation or permission of the State. If it can cre 
 ate, it can destroy its own work. If it can permit, it 
 can prohibit. Therefore it can abolish at will all cor 
 porations on giving indemnities when just and neces 
 sary. This is the innate right of sovereignty. With 
 out it, there would be no sovereignty. All that is with 
 in its sphere is subject to its action. There can be 
 permitted to be no antagonism of existence within 
 10*
 
 226 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 the circle of the national diadem no imperium in im- 
 pcrio. It is true that the State could not abolish the 
 whole clergy, because there can be no religion with 
 out a clergy, and a civilized State can no more exist 
 without religion than the body without the soul. But, 
 undoubtedly, the State can abolish, when necessary 
 to its welfare, certain particular aggregations of the 
 clergy which may, as corporations, have become too 
 numerous and cumbersome which may have out 
 lived the purposes for which they were formed and 
 which may no longer be in harmony with the wants 
 and ideas of the age. Governments have more than 
 once destroyed religious orders, with the consent of 
 the Pope. I need not recite all the instances of it re 
 lated in history, and which will present themselves 
 to your minds. That of the Jesuits, in the present 
 century, is in point. Besides, it must be admitted 
 that it is an intolerable evil, to have probably one- 
 third of France held in mortmain by those innumera 
 ble monasteries and other religious corporations that 
 have grown hoary and infirm on our soil, and are now 
 of no more public utility than our old feudal towers. 
 They must and will be struck down, on granting an 
 indemnity which will be sufficiently ample to provide 
 for their individual members. Their property must 
 be thrown back into the general circulation from 
 which it has been withdrawn. It will be bought 
 with the paper currency issued by the State, and will 
 thus contribute to its redemption. The national credit 
 will be firmly established, and France saved from the 
 awful calamity of bankruptcy. Surely the clergy are 
 too patriotic not to make as many voluntary sacrifices 
 as the nobility, to save their country from perdition." 
 Labb't Maury. " If in the National Assembly the
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 227 
 
 absolute ruin of the secular and regular clergy has al 
 ready been determined upon, if we have to struggle 
 against the irresistible force of a fixed resolution, 
 there is nothing left to us but resignation and silence. 
 But if we are to be attacked only with the force of 
 logic and the evidence of facts, we shall meet the 
 contest with confidence. I am afraid, however, that 
 the war undertaken against the clergy is a mere prel 
 ude to the one which is meditated against religion, 
 forgetful, as all modern reformers are, that all the leg 
 islators who have preceded us, from the remotest an 
 tiquity to the present day, have uniformly recognized 
 this unquestionable truth that religion is the only 
 basis on which society can be seated, because it is the 
 only thing that can give morality to a people ; be 
 cause, according to the sound sentiments of a heathen 
 philosopher and orator, the first duty of man on his 
 becoming a partner in any human society, is to be re 
 ligious. I hope that Cicero will be admitted here as 
 an authority by my adversaries; for he was not a 
 bigoted Catholic priest. But, before deciding if the 
 clergy are to be stripped of all their possessions, is it 
 not better to decide first, whether we are to have any 
 clergy at all ; and if we are to have a clergy, before 
 determining whether that clergy shall be established 
 and regulated by the Church, or by the assumed 
 authority of the civil power, would it not be better 
 to ascertain whether we are to have any religion at 
 all ? From the signs of the times I am inclined to 
 believe that it is not impossible but what the existence 
 of the clergy and of God himself will be simultaneously 
 abolished by a national decree. God must be looked 
 upon by the sages of the day as a great obstacle to 
 those sublime reforms which are contemplated by
 
 228 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 human reason, and a stumbling-block in the way of 
 the gradual march of our race toward perfection. 
 What do I say? A march toward perfection! No. 
 I take back my words, and beg pardon. We possess 
 innate perfection ; it is in the marrow of our bones, 
 and, to be developed, it awaits only the fiat of the phi 
 losophy, benevolence, and omnipotence of matter. 
 This question would, no doubt, be much simplified 
 were God to be banished from the universe by a bold 
 revolutionary stroke of the pen." 
 
 Mirabeau. " Allow me, Monsieur Labbe, to point 
 out to you that you are committing grave errors in 
 chronology. There is no Satan here attempting to 
 dethrone God in Heaven. We are in France, dealing 
 with men, and not with angels and archangels; with 
 the clergy, and not religion ; with their temporal pos 
 sessions, and not with their jurisdiction over souls 
 and spiritual things." 
 
 Labbe, Maury. " Very well, retournons a nos mou- 
 tons. Let us return to our sheep, which are to be 
 fleeced without mercy. The main question then is, 
 shall one hundred and fifty thousand Frenchmen who 
 constitute the clergy, and on whom more than one 
 million of persons are directly or indirectly depend 
 ent, be deprived of their possessions for what is 
 called the patriotic regeneration of their country? 
 Have I stated the question fairly, Mr. de Mirabeau? 
 You nod assent. What is the meaning of that assent ? 
 It means that Peter shall be stripped naked to clothe 
 Paul, that the clergy shall be spoliated, to facilitate 
 the stock-jobbing operations of swindling Jews. It 
 is substituting highway robbery for bankruptcy. What 
 is the bankruptcy of national credit, compared with 
 the bankruptcy of national honor and national jus-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 229 
 
 tice ? What would bethought of a man who, to pay 
 his debts, should waylay travelers on the public 
 road?" 
 
 Labbe Sieyes. " Such are the French. They wish 
 to be free, and they do not know how to be just." 
 
 Labbe Manry. " It is not a little curious that the 
 question of the suppression of monasteries and other 
 religious institutions should have been made a finan 
 cial one. Our holy altars are to be converted into 
 counters, where the sellers of doves and money 
 changers, are to discount bonds bearing mortgage on 
 church property. The value of stocks is to be the 
 sole criterion of national prosperity, and the wealth 
 of France is hereafter to lie in the portfolios of Jews, 
 and not in her fertile soil ploughed by patient and 
 honest labor. Surely, this can not be the true remedy 
 for our ailments. On the contrary, it is poison and 
 death. My opinion is, that, instead of this spend 
 thrift borrowing and of this consecration of robbery 
 under the great national seal, we must develop our 
 infinite resources by a wise and economical adminis 
 tration. We must renounce our luxurious habits ; we 
 must work, and not inscribe the name of France in 
 Shylock's book. Instead of that, what is proposed ? 
 To pay our outstanding debts, we are told to issue 
 State bonds, bearing interest. Well, how shall we 
 provide for the payment of that new debt and its in 
 terests ? By issuing other bonds ! But will anybody 
 have faith in those ever-increasing bonds, and will 
 they be negotiated? Perhaps not. Therefore, let 
 the clergy be robbed of their property, and let that 
 property be the guarantee of the payment of the na 
 tional loan." 
 
 La Rochefoucauld. " There may be some abuses,
 
 230 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 defects, and perhaps injustice to some extent, in the 
 plan proposed to avoid the horrible calamity of na 
 tional bankruptcy. But what plan could be free from 
 similar objections? For my part, I do not see how, 
 with the deficit which exists in the treasury, the Gov 
 ernment can contrive to live, and can provide for its 
 present and future necessities, without finding out 
 the means of establishing a solid public credit, which, 
 after all, is the only bank on which we can draw." 
 
 L'abbe Maitry. " One would suppose that public 
 credit, of which we hear so much, is the true treasure 
 and the only salvation of the State. I confess that, 
 in consequence of the past follies of France, we need 
 credit, temporarily, to scramble our way up, out of 
 the abyss into which we are gradually sinking. But, 
 whenever the Government shall be administered with 
 wisdom, public credit will no longer be what it now 
 is : a necessary evil, a huge calamity, and the most 
 terrible infliction which has ever befallen the nations 
 of the earth. I lay at its door all our misfortunes; it 
 has nourished the extravagant prodigalities of our 
 kings, by which all our sources of wealth have been 
 dried up ; it has facilitated those wars which, very 
 often, were undertaken for futile or criminal motives; 
 it has equipped and fed those innumerable armies 
 that have made war more fatal and more ruinous 
 than it would otherwise have been nay, it has per 
 petuated its image and its expenses in the midst of 
 peace, by transforming Europe into a vast armed 
 camp, always ready for action. It is credit which has 
 engendered that long and complicated series of debts 
 and taxes of all sorts under which we perish ; it is 
 credit which devours in anticipation the bread of 
 future generations. When Francis I. issued for the
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 23! 
 
 first time, in 1521, a loan guaranteed by the city of 
 Paris, he inaugurated a new era of calamities for Eu 
 rope, by giving an example that was sure to be fol 
 lowed by his neighbors. He laid down the first stone 
 of that monstrous edifice which, now tottering to its 
 very foundations, threatens us with being crushed 
 under its ruins. The richest kingdom on earth has 
 not been able to stand up more than two centuries 
 and a half under that all-consuming system of con 
 tinual borrowing, without even providing for the 
 punctual payment of interests, except with addition 
 al supplies of borrowed money. The capital of pre 
 vious loans has been reimbursed only by the expe 
 dient of larger ones. Borrowing has been made the 
 most ingenious of arts, and the most skillful devices 
 have been imagined to fill the craving maw of an ever 
 empty exchequer. It has led us to bankruptcy, or to 
 the spoliation of one portion of the nation by the 
 other." 
 
 Chamfort (emptying his glass). "Well, let us 
 hope that good will come out of evil." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " No, Sir, such a hope can not be 
 reasonably entertained. I predict that the confisca 
 tion of the possessions of the clergy will give no real 
 relief to the commonwealth. Their property will be 
 squandered ; for robbers are bad administrators ; and 
 the embarrassments of the treasury will remain what 
 they are. Such a confiscation would be worse than 
 an odious crime ; it would be a worthless and barren 
 one ; whilst I maintain that, as a matter of policy, a 
 territorial donation for the support of the clergy is a 
 precious institution for the State. Public worship 
 would be endangered and even annihilated, if it de 
 pended on a degrading and uncertain salary. An in-
 
 232 -rf UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 fidel and rapacious government would soon be on the 
 lookout for the cheapest form of worship, and it would 
 be speedily discovered that it is still cheaper to have no 
 worship at all. But, without any religious belief and 
 without a respectable and independent clergy, the 
 people, lacking that assistance, that check, that guid 
 ance which are so necessary to their moral and phys- 
 cal infirmities and wants, would become lawless, and 
 the world would again be taught the great political 
 truth, too much forgotten nowadays, that public order 
 reposes on religion, and that its ministers are the best 
 guaranties which governments can have for the docil 
 ity, submission, and good conduct of the people. It 
 is by the giving of alms that the clergy have gained 
 their hearts. How can the clergy, if poor, if receiv 
 ing alms themselves and unable to relieve distress, re 
 tain that salutary influence ? Reduce the clergy to 
 beggary, make efficient charity an impossibility for 
 them, confiscate monasteries, as was done in England, 
 and you will soon have a poor tax, as in the country 
 of Henry VIII. Besides, remember that a paid clergy 
 is a slavish one. They will be tools, they will obey, 
 instead of directing and controlling. In the name of 
 that liberty which you preach, I ask why you should 
 not allow us to be free ? " 
 
 Mirabeau. " Who undertakes aught against your 
 liberty?" 
 
 Labbe Maury. " You, who are advocating the 
 confiscation of what we possess. Without property, 
 there is no liberty. Of all kinds of social property, 
 liberty is the highest, for it makes a man proprietor 
 of himself. Hence the necessity of property to in 
 sure liberty. Is it by making new victims that you 
 wish to ameliorate the fate of the old ones? The
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 233 
 
 evils which we have to remove are nothing in com 
 parison to those that are coming upon us. From the 
 palace of our kings to the humblest cottage, every 
 thing is in fermentation. What a spectacle does 
 France present ! A king without power, and a peo 
 ple without liberty ! For, already, you have been 
 compelled to prohibit popular meetings. Ha ! Ha ! 
 is it what we have gained by exchanging one master 
 for twelve hundred ? Go on, gentlemen, go on, and 
 you will soon find out that the most terrific of all 
 despotisms is the one which wears the mask of lib 
 erty ! " 
 
 Mirabeau. " We have had an eloquent speech 
 from L'abbe Maury. I will answer him in the National 
 Assembly, should he reproduce his sentiments in that 
 body. In the meantime I shall content myself with 
 saying, that blind indeed is he who does not see that 
 the time has come for the destruction of all those 
 religious communities which overshadow the land. 
 If it be a question of expediency, the State is cer 
 tainly competent to decide upon it. As to the ques 
 tion of right, I think that it also appertains to the 
 same authority to pronounce on the subject. For 
 my part, I am convinced that corporations have no 
 self-derived existence, and are not created solely for 
 themselves. They are formed and preserved mainly 
 for the public good, and must cease to flourish at the 
 very moment when they cease to be useful. Your 
 religious corporations, Monsieur L'abbe, with the 
 ever-recurring donations made to them in the shape 
 of endowments or otherwise, by vanity, fear, or re 
 morse, would in the end absorb all the capital of the 
 kingdom and all its territory. Hence the right of 
 the State to destroy them. They, on the other hand,
 
 234 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 have no right to exist forever, because they once ex 
 isted. If a tomb had been erected to every man who 
 lived in this world, it would unavoidably have been 
 necessary for the purpose of cultivation, to sweep off 
 those monuments in order to have land, and to rake 
 up the ashes of the dead to find food for the living." 
 
 Archbishop of Aix. " I am no debater or orator. 
 I will merely assert, as an article of faith with me, 
 that territorial possessions are as indispensable to the 
 clergy in every nation, as temporal power is to his 
 Holiness in Rome." 
 
 Mirabeau. " We have reached an epoch, Monseig- 
 ncur, when, repelling dictation and deaf to the teach 
 ings of questionable authority, the human mind will 
 arrive at its own conclusions on every subject. There 
 is no longer any implicit faith in anything, not even 
 in the infallibility of the Pope." 
 
 Labbe. Maury. " And pray, Mr. de Mirabeau, why 
 should there not be implicit faith in the infallibility 
 of the Pope?" 
 
 Mirabeau. " Because infallibility is the attribute 
 of the Deity, and because it is sufficiently hard to 
 believe that, to save the human race from perdition, 
 God became man, without exacting our assent to the 
 proposition that, for the same purpose, a man be 
 comes God." 
 
 L'abbe, Maury. " This is a glittering and witty 
 antithesis, but all that glitters is not gold, and all 
 that is wit is not always sense. The sober truth is, 
 that the Pope never had any pretension to be God. 
 He is only His delegate on earth to teach religious 
 tenets or dogmas, of which he is, therefore, the su 
 preme exponent. That shallow minds should fling 
 their pointless shafts at the doctrine of his infallibility
 
 A UBER T DUB A YET. 235 
 
 might be expected. But such an intellect as that of 
 Mr. de Mirabeau should better understand a subject 
 which is worthy of his meditations, and which, when 
 understood, may command his assent, instead of 
 tempting him into a disrespectful sarcasm. The 
 Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman Church is an elective 
 monarchy. The Pope is a theocratic sovereign, 
 chosen without regard to birth, wealth, and nation 
 ality, by electors appointed by his predecessors. 
 There can be no human society without government, 
 no government without sovereignty, no sovereignty 
 without supremacy, and no supremacy without infalli 
 bility, absolute or relative, real or fictitious. One of 
 the fundamental principles in the constitution of En 
 gland is, that the king can do no wrong. This is a 
 declaration of infallibility. The King, the House of 
 Peers, and the Commons are omnipotent, when acting 
 in concert. That is admitted, I believe. Therefore 
 they are infallible ; for political infallibility can not 
 be separated from political omnipotence, at least as a 
 legal and necessary fiction. Blackstone says in his 
 commentaries : ' The usurped power of the Pope 
 being destroyed, the crown was restored to its suprem 
 acy over spiritual men and causes.' Well, the Pope 
 claims no more for himself than Blackstone claims 
 for his Protestant King. The partisans of a republi 
 can form of government proclaim that absolute sover 
 eignty lies in the people that is to say, omnipo 
 tence, undisputed supremacy, or infallibility. Vox 
 popnli, vox Dei the voice of the people is the voice 
 of God. This has become an axiom in the school of 
 democracy. But, if an aggregation of men are the 
 organ of the Deity, why not twenty, or ten, or even 
 one single man ? What is that proportion or degree
 
 236 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 of aggregation which is necessary to constitute 
 supremacy or infallibility? Shall we forget that, if 
 we have often heard of the most wonderful wisdom 
 or virtue in individuals, we have never heard of it as 
 existing in the masses or millions, collectively? 
 
 " The Church asks no more for the Pope than what 
 temporal sovereignties ask for themselves which is, 
 that infallibility or supremacy so indispensable to 
 the power of deciding without appeal ; and finally, 
 the Church, I say, asks no more, although she has 
 over temporal sovereignties an immense superiority, 
 inasmuch as their infallibility is a mere human sup 
 position or fiction, arising from the necessity of the 
 case, ex necessitate ret, whilst, in the Church, infalli 
 bility is the accomplishment of a divine promise. 
 England, which you admire so much, Mr. de Mira- 
 beau, has put temporal and spiritual omnipotence in 
 her king and parliament, for they can establish and 
 prescribe what is to be the religion of the country. 
 If you have no objection to that, why then should 
 you blame the Church for placing spiritual supremacy 
 or infallibility in the Pope ? Where is the absurdity? 
 Where is the unprecedented monstrosity? The 
 Church does not go as far as England, much less as 
 far as Russia, who has invested one single man, her 
 emperor, with spiritual and temporal omnipotence. 
 The fact is, that, for the government of the soul as 
 well as for the government of the body, there must 
 be a court of the last resort, and if so, it is sound 
 policy that the finality and infallibility of its judg 
 ments should go hand in hand. There is not one of 
 the Protestant Churches that does not claim to teach 
 the truth. That is logical ; for if they were not sure, 
 in their estimation, to be free from error, how could
 
 A UBER T D USA YE T. 237 
 
 they assume the responsibility of teaching and enforc 
 ing the strict adoption and observance of their doc 
 trines, under the penalty for their disciples to cease 
 to belong to their respective denominations in case of 
 dissent ? Does not, therefore, the Episcopalian or 
 the Presbyterian minister claim as much infallibility 
 for his church, as the Catholic priest does for his 
 own ? For my part, I do not see why it is more diffi 
 cult to believe in the infallibility of the Pope, than in 
 that of synods, or presbyteries." 
 
 La Rochefoucauld. " Infallible or not, the Catholic, 
 Apostolic and Roman Church is certainly the most 
 wonderful human institution viewing it only in that 
 light that the world has ever seen ; for not only has 
 it existed eighteen hundred years, but it has ex 
 isted thus long without any material modification or 
 alteration in its essence, and without any diminution 
 of its vitality. No other of the institutions of men 
 ever approached this duration." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " Such an exemption from the fate 
 of all human institutions proves that the Catholic, 
 Apostolic and Roman Church has a supernatural 
 character. If it is not human, it must be divine, and 
 if divine, infallible." 
 
 Chamfort. " Religious questions have always been 
 very perplexing to me. The relations existing be 
 tween the human race and its Creator seem to have 
 become obscure since our first disobedience, and seem 
 to produce discontent on both sides. I wish the Na 
 tional Assembly would enlighten us on the subject. 
 It has given us a declaration of the rights of man, 
 which, I think, should be followed by a declaration of 
 the rights of God." 
 
 Uabbe Maury. " Sir, the sneer that lurks in your
 
 238 A UBERT DUB A YET. 
 
 remarks is almost justified by the absurdity of that 
 declaration of the rights of man, which is partly bor 
 rowed from the famous document containing the dec 
 laration of independence of the United States. All 
 men born free and equal, forsooth ! When has that 
 ever been seen since the deluge? In the first place, 
 we are not born men ; we are born children, and we 
 remain in a state of tutelage until we are men ; when 
 arrived at the age of manhood, we have to obey laws 
 which we have not made, and if we are then per 
 mitted to have a share in the legislation of our coun 
 try, our wishes may be overruled by a majority that 
 may subject us to a government we detest, and thus 
 we are never free from the moment of our birth to 
 that of our death. As to equality among men, it is 
 a still more glaring absurdity. There is not a human 
 being who, at the bottom of his heart, does not re 
 pudiate such an assertion. Tell an honest cobbler 
 that he is the equal of anybody in the land, however 
 high, and that the distance between him and those 
 who are reputed his betters is a mere accident, the 
 folly of his pride may smile approvingly at the bold 
 ness of your flattery. But tell him that he is no bet 
 ter than the lousy beggar at the corner of the street, 
 and it is ten to one that he will knock you down. It 
 is a demagogic lie. There is no equality in the phys 
 ical, moral, and intellectual departments of the world, 
 no equality among the trees of the forests, the beasts, 
 the insects, the birds, the reptiles, and the fishes. 
 Even geese would cackle in derision, if you told them 
 that one of their feathered tribe is as good as the 
 other, for they have a leader. The bees would sting 
 you for it ; they have their queen and their drones ; 
 the ants would bite you, for they have a nobility, the
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 239 
 
 distinction of classes, and even slaves. Man alone is 
 stupid enough to listen to such barefaced falsehood. 
 Woe to those who shall attempt to subvert the hie 
 rarchy which God has ordained in heaven and on earth ! 
 Woe to the mad architect who will attempt to make 
 a pyramid repose on its apex ! Woe to the sociab 
 body which stands with its head down and its feet 
 up ! In that inverted and unnatural position, its lib 
 erty will be suffocated from the afflux of blood to the 
 lungs, and even life itself will depart. The United 
 States of America have been the first to proclaim this 
 nonsense as an aphorism, and they will be the first to 
 suffer from it. Equality among men demands equal 
 ity of rights, civil and political ; political equality 
 means general suffrage, and general suffrage means 
 the supreme power in the hands of the ignorant, the 
 needy, and the vicious. When that fatal hour shall 
 strike, our allies on the other side of the Atlantic may 
 bid a long farewell to civilization." 
 
 Talleyrand. " My dear abbe, you are performing 
 the part of Cassandra. I am afraid that you have 
 not dined well. Forgetting the Americans and the 
 wooden horse with which you threaten them, let us 
 adjourn to the adjacent saloons, where coffee will be 
 brought to us. We shall meet friends, for this is, you 
 know, my reception evening."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 TALLEYRAND'S EVENING RECEPTION. 
 
 WHEN the party of guests moved from the dinner- 
 table to the reception-rooms, they found in them from 
 forty to fifty persons, most of whom divided into 
 groups, some sitting, some standing, and some prom 
 enading, whilst engaged in animated conversation. 
 Talleyrand courteously addressed every one of them 
 in turn, saying some civil things to all. Not a single 
 one was neglected. After that, he languidly sauntered 
 a little while in a listless manner, with his eyes half 
 closed, apparently inattentive to anything, when in 
 reality nothing escaped his observation. Suddenly 
 he approached Gouverneur Morris, the American min 
 ister plenipotentiary, took him by the arm, and lead 
 ing him to a sofa, invited him to sit down on his right, 
 whilst, beckoning to Lafayette, he made him take a 
 seat on his left. 
 
 " I hope," said he to Morris, " that you have Iate4y 
 heard from General Washington, that he is well, and 
 that your country is in a prosperous condition." 
 
 Morris. " General Washington writes exultingly * 
 of the state of the country and of the attachment of 
 all classes to the government. He says that, while 
 in Europe wars or commotions seem to agitate almost 
 every nation, peace and tranquillity prevail among us, 
 
 * Washington's Letter to Lafayette. 
 (240)
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 24 1 
 
 except in some part of our Western frontiers, where 
 the Indians have been troublesome, to reclaim or 
 chastise whom, proper measures are now pursuing. 
 He thinks that this contrast between the situation 
 of the United States and that of Europe is too strik 
 ing to be passed over, even by the most superficial 
 observer, and he believes that it may be considered 
 as one great cause of leading the people there to re 
 flect more attentively on their own prosperous state, 
 and to examine more minutely, and consequently 
 approve more fully of, the government under which 
 they live, than they would otherwise have done. But 
 he does not wish us to be the only people who may 
 taste the sweets of an equal and good government. 
 He looks with an anxious eye to the time when hap 
 piness and tranquillity shall prevail in your country, 
 and all Europe shall be freed from commotions, tu 
 mults, and alarms." 
 
 Talleyrand, " Such generous sentiments are worthy 
 of that great man. But, what are your own, Mr. 
 Morris, on our affairs? You are an impartial and 
 sagacious spectator, who has a full view of the stage 
 on which we are acting." 
 
 Morris. " I am sorry to tell you, Sir, that I take 
 but a gloomy survey of the spectacle which is before 
 me.* Permit me to say, with a somewhat rude but 
 well-meant severity, that your unhappy country, be 
 wildered in the pursuit of metaphysical whimsies and 
 political Utopias, presents to my moral view nothing 
 but a mighty ruin. Like the remnants of ancient 
 magnificence, we admire the architecture of the tem 
 ple, while we detest the false god to whom it was 
 
 * Morris to Lafayette, 
 n
 
 242 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 dedicated. Daws, and ravens, and the birds of night 
 now build their nests in its niches. The sovereign, 
 humbled to the level of a beggar's pity, is without 
 resources, without authority, without a friend. The 
 National Assembly is at once a master and a slave 
 the master of the king, and the slave of the populace. 
 It is new in power, wild in theory, raw in practice. 
 It engrosses all functions, whilst incapable of exer 
 cising any, and has taken from this fierce, ferocious 
 people every restraint of religion and respect. Hith 
 erto, my dear General Lafayette, you have performed 
 a splendid part ; you stand as a rampart between roy 
 alty and democracy, and, thus far, you have prevented 
 a frightful collision. But how long will it last? The 
 king obeys, but detests you. He obeys because he 
 fears. As to the people, they also obey you, because 
 they trust and love him whom they consider as their 
 champion. But, how long will they trust and love ?" 
 Lafayette. " I expect,* of course, to continue for 
 some time to be tossed on an ocean of factions and 
 commotions of every kind ; for it is my fate to be at 
 tacked with great animosity, on one side, by all that 
 is aristocratic, servile, parliamentary in a word, by 
 all the adversaries of my free and leveling doctrine ; 
 on the other, by the Orleans and anti-monarchical 
 factions, and all the workers of disorder and pillage. 
 It is doubtful whether I may escape personally from 
 so many enemies, but the success of our grand and 
 good revolution is, at least, thank Heaven, assured in 
 France, and soon it will propagate itself in the rest of 
 the world, if we succeed in establishing public order 
 in this country. Unfortunately, the people have much 
 
 * Lafayette to Washington.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 243 
 
 better learnt to overthrow despotism than to com 
 prehend the duty of submission to law. But we 
 must have patience and forbearance. For my part, I 
 will, as a leader, pursue the course of moderation, 
 avoiding all excesses, and I have no doubt that all 
 will be right in the end." 
 
 Morris. " Moderation ! Moderation in a revolu 
 tion such as yours is destined to be ! Revolutions 
 always rush to their extreme limits, General, and 
 leave moderation stranded far behind. In the stormy 
 nights of popular commotions, it is better for a leader, 
 better for his followers, and better for the cause he 
 has espoused, that he should be a bold, cold-hearted, 
 ever calculating, unscrupulous, and iron-handed, but 
 far-seeing pilot, than a warm, generous, honest, and 
 impulsive one, with his organ of vision obstructed or 
 impaired by his sensibilities, or by illusions of his own 
 raising." 
 
 Lafayette. "If you apply this to me, my friend, 
 I assure you that I have no illusions. I give you the 
 assurance that my conviction is, that our troubles will 
 not be terminated until our intended constitution is 
 thoroughly formed and established. Nevertheless, 
 though our horizon is still very dark, we commence 
 to foresee the moment when a new legislature will 
 replace our Assembly : and, unless there come an in 
 tervention of foreign powers, I shall have resumed th-e 
 life of a peaceful and simple citizen."* 
 
 Morris. " Amen ! Better the shades of your 
 chateau de la Grange than the pangs of exile and the 
 horrors of a dungeon ! " 
 
 Lafayette. " I see nothing, after all, justifying ex- 
 
 * Lafayette to Washington,
 
 244 A UBER T D UBA YE T - 
 
 cessive alarms. The rage of party between the two 
 different shades of patriots has gone very far, it is 
 true ; but, as yet, with little effusion of blood. If, as 
 I am willing to admit, animosities are far from subsid 
 ing, yet present circumstances are somewhat less men 
 acing of a collision between the different supporters 
 of the popular cause. As to myself, I am always the 
 butt for attacks of all parties,because they see in my per 
 son an insurmountable obstacle to their evil designs.* 
 In the meantime, what appears to me a species of 
 phenomenon, my popularity hitherto has not been 
 shaken." 
 
 Morris. "Alas, beware! Popularity, you know, 
 is but the broken reed which pierces the hand that 
 rests on it." 
 
 During this conversation, reclining in an easy post 
 ure against the back of the sofa, Talleyrand had closed 
 entirely his eyes, which he habitually kept half shut. 
 His face was expressionless, but a keen observer 
 might have detected an almost imperceptible smile of 
 irony occasionally flitting on his lips. 
 
 Mirabeau had approached the group. " Count," 
 said Lafayette, " I have just told Mr. Morris that our 
 troubles will not terminate before the constitution 
 we are preparing is completed and adopted." 
 
 " An upstart constitution is but a poor panacea," 
 replied Mirabeau. " A constitution of yesterday is 
 too new for the evils of to-day, and too old for those 
 of to-morrow. Give me a constitution which, like 
 that of England, has been made by nobody living, 
 but is the gradual and imperceptible work of ages 
 a constitution which has grown and expanded with 
 
 * Lafayette to Washington.
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 245 
 
 the nation, as the soul does with the human body a 
 constitution which, composed of traditions and prece 
 dents, is invisible and impalpable like the atmosphere 
 of liberty in which it flourishes, but is felt through 
 every pore of the commonwealth. Give me an elastic 
 and easy coat that adapts itself to the enlargement or 
 contraction of every limb, as it grows fat or lean, and 
 impedes no unforeseen movement or action. But a 
 written constitution is not worth the paper on which 
 it is inscribed, although, by the force of circumstances, 
 I am compelled to lend my aid to such an abortive 
 creation. A written constitution is for a people what 
 a strait-jacket is for a man. But, what will subdue 
 the one, will be broken through by the other. It is 
 attempting to chain a Titan with a cobweb. Pshaw ! 
 A written constitution is no better than an almanac; 
 it will have to be changed every year. I have always 
 wished to retain all that was good in our old regime, 
 but most of my colleagues are opposed to it. I wished 
 to engraft the sapling of the present on the sturdy 
 oak of the past. But no, we seem determined to act 
 as if we imagined that we are but one day older than 
 creation. Everything is new ; there is nothing that 
 has preceded us, and with which we are bound to 
 reckon. We forget that life is not self-generated, that 
 it proceeds from anterior life, and, therefore, that we 
 must connect harmoniously our present and future 
 existence with that of the past. I think that we are 
 introducing too much radicalism into our fundamental 
 institution ; and, as extreme radicalism is the root of 
 all troubles, I am afraid, General, that we are not near 
 the end of ours. Instead of using as a foundation 
 the primeval rock of antiquity which God has given 
 us, we pulverize it and fling it to the four winds of
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 heaven. Hence there remains but an abyss on which 
 to build the edifice which we destine for ourselves 
 and for posterity. But, excuse me, I see Cabanis and 
 Candorcet just coming in. I know that they have 
 something to say to me," and he turned on his heels, 
 with a slight bow to the company from whom he de 
 parted. 
 
 Morris. " Mr. de Mirabeau is more conservative 
 than I thought." 
 
 Talleyrand (inhaling a pinch of snuff). " And more 
 musical than you have any idea of. He has been, of 
 late, taking long lessons on the violin from Tintin 
 Calandro, the chief musician of the Princess de Lam- 
 balle, who is, as you know, the confidential and bosom 
 friend of the queen. Mr. de Mirabeau is a wonderful 
 man, Mr. Morris." 
 
 " Yes, a very wonderful man ! " echoed Brissot, a 
 member of the National Assembly, who, at that mo 
 ment, had come to salute Talleyrand, and who some 
 times amused his colleagues by the uncalled-for bursts 
 of his excessive anglophobia ; " but it is a pity that 
 he is so infatuated about the English constitution, 
 and that he wishes to assimilate ours to the one which 
 rules those thick-headed, pudding-eating islanders, with 
 whom we have nothing in common, either in thought, 
 feeling, or language, either in eating or drinking, 
 either in sleeping or waking. The constitution 
 of England! Whew! That constitution is the 
 cause of her ruin. Everybody knows that she is 
 lost." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Talleyrand, with a comical 
 expression of dismay, " England is lost ! When did 
 you receive such stupendous news, Mr. Brissot ? By 
 what degree of latitude was she lost? How many
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 247 
 
 men, women, and children were saved from the wreck, 
 or did they all perish?" 
 
 This was said in Talleyrand's inimitable way. It 
 produced a hearty laugh, and Brissot was somewhat 
 disconcerted. " But," continued Talleyrand, with a 
 genial expression of kindness, " excuse this little bit 
 of raillery. I never take such liberties except with 
 my friends. Give me your arm, for you know I am 
 somewhat lame, and, leaving General Lafayette and 
 Mr. Gouverneur Morris together, who will be glad to 
 talk of American affairs, let us join L'abbe Maury and 
 Mr. de Robespierre, who seem to be engaged in an 
 interesting discussion."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AN INTELLECTUAL PASSAGE-AT-ARMS BETWEEN 
 L'ABBE MAURY AND ROBESPIERRE. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE was a sour-looking, undersized man, 
 extremely spruce and rigidly neat in his dress, almost 
 a dandy, but of too sinister an aspect for such a char 
 acter. His unsteady look, which seemed always 
 anxious to avoid meeting the look of any one with 
 whom he conversed, the incessant nervous quivering 
 of his eyelids, his receding narrow forehead, his sandy 
 hair, the peculiar smile of his thin lips, his upturned 
 nose, his ghastly complexion, his dogmatic and dry 
 manner, the hissing intonations of his voice when 
 he was excited, the occasional convulsive twitches of 
 his limbs, produced the most disagreeable impression. 
 It would have been impossible for a physiognomist 
 not to feel uncomfortable in his presence. When 
 Talleyrand and Brissot approached, he was saying to 
 L'abbe Maury: " Nothing, in my opinion, Sir, can re 
 generate France but a republican form of govern 
 ment." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " Aristocratic, or democratic ? " 
 Robespierre. " Democratic, of course." 
 Labbe Maury. " Founded on the absolute sover 
 eignty of the people? " 
 
 Robespierre. " Undoubtedly." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " Equality of political and civil 
 rights for all Frenchmen ? " 
 (248)
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 249 
 
 Robespierre. " Certainly." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " That implies general suffrage." 
 
 Robespierre. " A logical deduction." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " I am glad to see that we may not 
 be irreconcilable on all points. Thus, if I understand 
 you, the people, in their collective capacity, are to as 
 sume, without opposition and deception, the control 
 of their own destinies, and are to decide, whenever 
 they choose, what is, or what is not, for their general 
 welfare?" 
 
 Robespierre. "That is my doctrine." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " Well, you are for a republic ; I am 
 for a monarchy. I propose that we refer the ques 
 tion to the people, and accept their verdict." 
 
 Robespierre. " Provided that the clergy, the nobil 
 ity, the army, the navy, and all persons depending on 
 them, and also all the employes, high and low, of the 
 Government, with their dependents, be excluded. 
 They could not be impartial." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " This would be excluding half of 
 the French people. But, proceed ; I am in a liberal 
 mood this evening, and I am willing to grant all you 
 want. Let it be as you say, and let the populace of 
 the cities and the peasantry be alone consulted." 
 
 Robespierre. " Not yet. They are still under the 
 influence of the excluded classes. They are too ig 
 norant. They must previously be educated into a 
 proper knowledge of their rights." 
 
 Labbe, Maury. " Oh ! oh ! I understand. A few 
 educators, philosophers, and philanthropists, like Mr. 
 de Robespierre, will appoint themselves the represent 
 atives and tutors of the people. They will constitute 
 a regency with unlimited powers, whilst paternally 
 forming the heart and judgment of their confiding 
 n*
 
 250 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 pupils, and qualifying them for the future sovereignty 
 which they are to exercise. But you must admit 
 that, in the meantime, it will be the government of a 
 minority which is anti-democratic. Thus your con 
 clusions are at variance with your premises." 
 
 Robespierre. " Only temporarily. This minority 
 will, in the end, swell into a majority, by educating 
 the people and preparing them for liberty." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. "In the end ! When will that end 
 come ? How long will it take ? " 
 
 Robespierre. " I can not tell. It must be left to 
 circumstances." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " But, during that indefinite space 
 of time, we shall be living in a republic only in name, 
 not in reality. For, the minority, whilst educating 
 the majority, will rule without consulting it." 
 
 Robespierre. " It will be a transient evil, to secure 
 a permanent good. A republic must repose on virtue 
 and universal education. Otherwise, it would soon 
 perish. The people must be gradually prepared for 
 the new condition to which they are destined." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " You talk so fair, Mr. de Robes 
 pierre, that I am almost converted, and that I am 
 tempted to hope that you will make the world see 
 the day when the lamb shall lie in peace with the 
 wolf, or rather, when all wolves shall be sheep. A 
 government founded on virtue and general education 
 It makes my mouth water." 
 
 Robespierre. " Mr. L'abbe is disposed to jest, whilst 
 I am in earnest." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " Well, Sir, I shall be serious enough 
 to please you. I suppose that you understand by 
 education, that series of scientific and scholarly in 
 struction and moral discipline which is intended to
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 2 $ I 
 
 enlighten the understanding, correct the temper, and 
 form the manners and habits of youth to fit them for 
 usefulness in their future stations." 
 
 Robespierre. " I do not object to the definition." 
 Uabbt Maury. " But who is to prescribe and to 
 impart that education ? Not the one half of the peo 
 ple of France whom you have disfranchised, because, 
 if they are too disloyal to vote, they are too danger 
 ous to be permitted to teach ; and not the other half, 
 who are too ignorant to be trusted, as you think, with 
 political power for the present. If they are too ig 
 norant for self-government, surely they are too igno 
 rant to educate others. Thus you alone and your 
 friends, that is, a handful of men, regardless of what 
 may be the will of an immense majority of your fel 
 low-citizens whom you do not consult, after having 
 determined what is the best form of government for 
 them, are to settle what is the most efficient educa 
 tion to be given to the rising generation, in order to 
 prepare it for the support of that very government. 
 But pray, Sir, how are you to determine the various 
 degrees of education which must be made to har 
 monize with the future stations of your innumerable 
 pupils? What basis will you go upon? Will it be 
 the accident of birth, or of social position, or the in 
 dication of intellect? How much of education will 
 be allowed to the son of a tailor, a cobbler, a peasant, 
 or a rag-picker ? Will it be in reference to the prob 
 ability of their pursuing the avocations of their par 
 ents? When and how will you acquire that knowl 
 edge ? Will you consult their wishes or tastes, or 
 will you make them conform to the better judgment 
 of their teachers ? At what period of the life of a 
 student will a decision be taken on the qualifications
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 which he may have for a future station, in order to 
 direct his education accordingly?" 
 
 Robespierre. " My plan is much more simple. I 
 am in favor of the same system and degree of educa 
 tion for all. I want no distinction. The proficiency 
 of each child in his studies, and his qualifications as 
 they are developed, will determine his future station 
 in life. Let there be the same incubation for all the 
 eggs of the nation, without presuming to ascertain in 
 advance out of which shells will come the eagle, the 
 buzzard, or the crow. Let there be public schools 
 supported by taxation." 
 
 Labbe Maury. "If poor parents say that they 
 can not spare their children whom they need at home 
 to work and make a living, if they refuse to send 
 them to your schools, what then?" 
 
 Robespierre. " They shall be compelled." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " Who will clothe and feed those 
 children when they are at school ? For you can not 
 deny that, in our country, children, even in very early 
 life, must help their parents by their labor." 
 
 Robespierre. " These are details into which the 
 State can not enter. The State can not be expected 
 to take the trouble of ascertaining who are, and who 
 are not, the parents that can support their children, 
 or what degree of support they can give them, with 
 out relying on the co-operative labor of those chil 
 dren." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " Very well, I see how it will work. 
 The poor who will say that they can not support their 
 children at school, and who will refuse to send them 
 there, will be fined, I suppose. If they do not pay 
 the fine, they will be imprisoned, and, in that case, 
 the State will have to support the parents in jail and
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 253 
 
 the quasi orphans at school. Otherwise, they would 
 not be educated at all, and for a very good reason, be 
 cause they would starve their parents being locked 
 up. Pshaw ! Is it not self-evident that it is an impos 
 sibility to disseminate education equally among all 
 classes, even under the very best form of all govern 
 ments a French republic?" 
 
 Robespierre. " For a republic founded on fraternity, 
 equality, and the acknowledged rights of man, an im 
 possibility is merely a feasibility bristling with diffi 
 culties." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " Sublime ! I am so overpowered 
 that I give up. I grant that the cup of classic lore, 
 if not a dish of broth, can be brought to the lips of 
 every poor child in France. But the rich ? the rich 
 who shall pay for the education of the poor, whether 
 they approve, or do not approve, of the tax and of 
 the nature of that education, will, at least, be per 
 mitted, I suppose, to rear their own children after 
 their own fashion? If so, one half of France will be 
 educated very differently from the other. Here is at 
 once a stab between the fourth and fifth ribs of that 
 equality of which you dream in everything." 
 
 Robespierre. "This would be anti-republican. The 
 rich and the poor must be fused and must matriculate 
 together at the same public schools. There they will 
 be born again, as it were, and will fraternally come out 
 of the vast womb of the same motherly education." 
 
 L'abbe, Maury. " What ! All proprietors, or rich 
 men, after having been heavily taxed to educate the 
 children of those who own nothing, and therefore do 
 not pay any portion of that tax, shall be compelled 
 to subject their own children to a course of education 
 which they may deem deleterious ! "
 
 254 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Robespierre. " The State is the best judge of that. 
 It will be an education preparatory and conducive to 
 social equality, the greatest of all blessings. There 
 will no longer be left an inch of ground for an aris 
 tocracy to stand upon." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " Why not come at once to the 
 tables in common of Sparta, where all citizens, high 
 or low, ate together?" 
 
 Robespierre. " We may come to that in due time, 
 for under the fraternal rod of equality there will be 
 neither high nor low." 
 
 Labb'e Maury. " Admitting that there should be 
 one day neither high nor low, and that society should 
 have become as flat as the back of a bedbug, you will 
 grant, I presume, that men who are on a footing of 
 equality, have an equal and inalienable right to think 
 for themselves ?" 
 
 Robespierre. " Unquestionably." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " Very good. You know that 
 watches, however similarly constructed, never can be 
 made to agree for any length of time. Charles V. 
 found that out. Therefore, you can not expect unan 
 imity of thought even among those whom your dem 
 ocratic education will mould into equals. From some 
 quarter, perhaps the least suspected, there may come 
 some fierce opposition to the continuance of your 
 system." 
 
 Robespierre. " It would be treason against liberty, 
 and such treason must be crushed without mercy." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " O liberty, how much despotism 
 there may be in a republic ! " 
 
 Robespierre. " Permit me, Monsieur L'abbe, to put 
 you in mind of certain words which fell from the lips 
 of one who belonged to your holy order. When I find
 
 A UBEKT DUB A YET. 
 
 obstacles in my way, said Cardinal Richelieu, / mow 
 them down, and, covering them with my scarlet mantle, 
 I step over. Like him, I would mow down all my op 
 ponents with the scythe of progress, and, throwing 
 over their corpses the red flag of liberty, I would 
 move onward." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " If you ever wield the axe of that 
 wonderful man, may you have his genius to direct 
 your arm ! He assumed a frightful responsibility. 
 But France, remembering that he made her great, has 
 absolved him from the blood he shed. To him we 
 owe, long after his death, the splendors of the reign 
 of Louis XIV. Should you ever become a ruler 
 among men, and should you ever spill blood like him, 
 may you be able to make as good a defense as he be 
 fore the tribunal of posterity, and may you, on the 
 page of history, appear as grand a figure with your 
 red flag of liberty, as the great cardinal with his scar 
 let mantle, which he spread as a protecting screen be 
 tween the stability of anointed royalty and the tur 
 bulence of feudal anarchy, between the hereditary 
 power of one legitimate sovereign and the selfish 
 conspiracies of a thousand would-be usurpers of au 
 thority, who, ever changing and ever hungry, would 
 devour the last crumb of the substance of the peo 
 ple!" 
 
 Robespierre. " Although I have quoted Richelieu, 
 I am not ambitious to have anything in common with 
 him. My model is Tiberius Gracchus." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " Cardinal Richelieu died quietly 
 in his bed, forgiving his enemies, and with a conscience 
 which he declared to be calm. Tiberius Gracchus 
 had the tragical fate of a revolutionist, of a flatterer 
 of the populace, and died with imprecations on his
 
 256 A USER T D USA YE T. 
 
 lips. But allow me one more question in relation to 
 your aphorism : that a republic must rest on virtue and 
 education. What your intended plan of education is, 
 I have been sufficiently informed. Thanks to it, I 
 take it for granted that every man in France will, in 
 due course of time, be as well read in polite literature 
 and will possess as many scholarly attainments as 
 yourself. But I am curious to know what system you 
 will establish to secure the reign of virtue among the 
 people. Virtue is based on morality, and morality 
 rests on religion. Morality without religion is like a 
 woman without chastity. Let temptation open the 
 door, and sin will enter. I know that philosophists 
 maintain that virtue may exist, distinct from religion. 
 They say that the practice of moral duties, merely 
 from motives of conscience, or from compulsion, or 
 from regard to reputation, is virtue Surely this can 
 not be your appreciation of it. What can be the so 
 lidity of that virtue which is based on convenience or 
 compulsion? Let that convenience or that compul 
 sion cease, and where is virtue ? As to a mere regard 
 to reputation, it is clear that it would not be a relia 
 ble foundation, because virtue, whenever sure of her 
 reputation being protected by secrecy, might be se 
 duced into some indecorous eccentricity of behavior. 
 It is laughable to think of putting trust in that kind 
 of virtue which, caring only for reputation, would grow 
 weak or strong according to the probabilities of detec 
 tion. Therefore, considering virtue and religion as 
 inseparably connected, I beg leave to ask what relig 
 ion would be taught in your schools." 
 
 Robespierre. " Every one has the right to worship 
 his Creator, or not, according to his own free will, 
 and in the form he pleases. No particular religion,
 
 A UBERT DUB A YET. 257 
 
 therefore, can be taught in the public schools in pref 
 erence to another ; and, as the teaching of all creeds 
 indiscriminately would produce confusion and the 
 most mischievous squabbles, it shall be prohibited. 
 The works of Plato, Horace, Virgil, Cicero, and such 
 other productions of human genius, ancient and mod 
 ern, shall be read, but neither the Protestant, nor the 
 Catholic Bible, nor the Koran, nor any other religious 
 code." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " Exactly what I expected. God 
 has become an obsolete piece of furniture in this 
 renovated and improved household of scientific doc 
 tors and philanthropic reformers, and is to be cast 
 aside with what is called the remaining rubbish of 
 superstition." 
 
 Robespierre. " Not at all. Voltaire has said with 
 truth and pithiness of expression : If God did not ex 
 ist it would be necessary to invent Him. Atheism is 
 aristocratic.* Nothing is more essentially popular 
 and democratic than the idea of a Great Being who 
 watches over oppressed innocence, and who punishes 
 triumphant crime. Therefore my republic would ac 
 knowledge Him by a national decree." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " The Supreme Being would, no 
 doubt, feel highly complimented and be grateful for 
 the honor. The next step, I suppose, will be to pro 
 claim the existence of the sun. Well, the world, 
 thanks to your republic, is informed that God exists. 
 But is that all ? Will not the republic deign to do 
 something more for Him? Will He not have His 
 temples and His ministers? " 
 
 Robespierre. " His temple is the universe ; all men 
 are His ministers on earth. Therefore His worship 
 
 * The very words of Robespierre in the National Assembly.
 
 258 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 shall not be confined within the narrow limits of edi 
 fices erected by human hands, nor shall His altars be 
 intrusted to any privileged set of Levites. But, on 
 certain days during the year, there shall be grand na 
 tional festivities in His honor. The people shall meet 
 under the broad canopy of heaven to worship the 
 Creator, and under the presidency of the State au 
 thorities everywhere. Hymns shall be composed by 
 the most celebrated poets, and sung by the most me 
 lodious voices. There shall be imposing processions 
 of men, women, and children, crowned with emblem 
 atic wreaths of flowers. The chief executive, for the 
 time being, shall be the high-priest, and shall be rep 
 resented in the same functions by the delegates of his 
 authority throughout the whole extent of the repub 
 lic. In the capital, for instance, a superb altar shall 
 be erected on the most beautiful and the largest pub 
 lic square within its walls, where shall be enthroned 
 the goddess of reason, as the visible representative of 
 the invisible Deity." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " Perfect ! God having given man 
 a partner in woman, man, in his turn, presents a god 
 dess to God ! This is a proper exchange of recipro 
 cal civilities. But why should it be the goddess of 
 reason, rather than any other divinity of the same sex ?" 
 
 Robespierre. " Reason being that faculty of the 
 mind by which it distinguishes truth from falsehood, 
 and good from evil, and which enables its possessor 
 to deduce correct inferences from facts and from 
 propositions, must emanate from God alone ; and, 
 emanating from God, it necessarily follows that it 
 partakes of His essence, and is, by His will, incarnated 
 in man. In worshiping it, we worship Him." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " There is nothing more variable
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 259 
 
 and more fallible than human reason. How can rea 
 son, therefore, be the representative of divine infalli 
 bility ? For instance, my reason makes me a monarch 
 ist ; yours makes you a republican. Which is right ? 
 What permanent form shall that Protean goddess of 
 reason assume ? What vagaries of hers shall be our 
 religion ? Is it on the virtue proceeding from such a 
 religion, whatever it may be, that your republic is to be 
 founded ? I am afraid, Mr. de Robespierre, that your 
 system of universal virtue will be as abortive as your 
 system of universal education, and that these two pil 
 lars of your contemplated French republic will be as 
 brittle as glass." 
 
 Robespierre. " The experiment, however, is worth 
 making." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " Well, let us suppose it made. 
 Equality, fraternity, and liberty are in the ascendant, 
 and shine like the Pleiads in the firmament of France, 
 shedding their sweet influences over her destinies. 
 Incense fumes over the numerous altars of the god 
 dess of reason, the visible representative of God on 
 earth. So much for France. But what of her colo 
 nies, where two races confront each other as masters 
 and slaves, as whites and blacks ? " 
 
 Robespierre. "If a republic should ever be pro 
 claimed in France, on that day the chains of the slave 
 shall be broken wherever the flag of liberty will float, 
 and there shall be no political, civil, or social distinc 
 tion between the white and the black race, or any 
 other race." 
 
 Labbe Maury. " It would ruin our colonies." 
 
 Robespierre. " Perish the colonies rather than a 
 principle ! "* 
 
 * Words attributed to Robespierre in the National Assembly.
 
 2 6o * UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Labbe Maury. " Perish the colonies ! Shall they 
 be sunk to the bottom of the ocean?" 
 
 Robespierre. " Yes, rather than tolerate, one single 
 day, the institution of slavery, or any distinction of 
 color." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " To drown those poor negroes 
 would be a prompt but unpleasant way to emancipate 
 them. They might prefer their present condition to 
 such a summary kind of introduction to freedom. 
 Would it not be fair to consult them ? " 
 
 Robespierre. " No. The republic would consult 
 principles, and not men." 
 
 Talleyrand. " I have been an attentive and grati 
 fied listener. But permit me, Mr. de Robespierre, to 
 say that too much zeal often defeats the object it has 
 in view. There must be moderation in all things. 
 Equality and fraternity among men, liberty for all, 
 and universal education, are excellent sugar plums, 
 but let us not eat too much of them. It might give 
 us a sick stomach." 
 
 L'abbe Maury. " Jean Jacques Rousseau, who 
 certainly must be a strong authority in the eye of 
 Mr. de Robespierre, has argued that the arts and 
 sciences have been, in proportion to their develop 
 ment, fatal to the virtue and social happiness of 
 nations. Prometheus stole the fire of civilization 
 from Heaven, and lighted a torch which led man, on 
 the road of progress, farther than it was intended by 
 the Gods that he should go. Hence his punishment 
 on the rock where he was chained for his crime, and 
 where his entrails were devoured by the vulture-beak 
 of eternal remorse. This is the tale of paganism, and 
 therein lies a deep lesson. Satan said to our first 
 parents : ' In the day ye eat the fruit of the tree of
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 2 6 1 
 
 knowledge, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye 
 shall be as Gods, knowing good and evil.' This is 
 the tale of Christianity. If these are fables, or alle 
 gories, as is maintained by skepticism, they are the 
 fables of wisdom and the allegories of truth. Every 
 man to his trade, is the proverbial saying of the prac 
 tical common sense of all nations. You must re 
 member, Mr. de Robespierre, the words of Horace : 
 ne sutor iiltrd crepidam" 
 
 Brissot. " Good God ! Here is a Latin quotation. 
 You know that I do not understand that barbarous 
 language, and yet you see that I am listening with all 
 my ears to your very interesting sentiments. You 
 would not have distressed me more if you had spoken 
 English. Pray, tell me in plain French what means 
 your quotation?" 
 
 Labb'e, Maury. " It means that the cobbler ought 
 not to presume to rise above the shoe on which he is 
 at work. But now, it seems, the cobbler must be as 
 well-educated and refined as anybody, and anybody 
 must be as good and as well-informed as any other 
 body. I am sick of all this cant. There will ever be 
 in this world the poor and the rich, the learned and 
 the ignorant, the strong and the weak in intellect as 
 well as in body, the virtuous and the wicked, just as 
 there is always prevailing a certain proportion of rain 
 and sunshine. Should it be otherwise, this world 
 would not be what it is, and what it is intended to 
 be. Let the scale of education correspond with the 
 ascending steps of the ladder of society, and it will 
 work well." 
 
 Robespierre. " No, Sir ; let there be the same edu 
 cation for all, and the same opportunity to profit by
 
 262 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 it, or not. Why should not the whole French nation 
 be a nation of gentlemen and ladies?" 
 
 L'abbe, Maury. " I should have no objection, were 
 it not that all washerwomen having become ladies, 
 and all cooks and valets being gentlemen, I might 
 run the risk of not having my clothes washed, my 
 soup made, and my coat dusted." 
 
 Talleyrand. " It would be a dire calamity for such 
 sybarites as the abbe and myself, Monsieur de Robes 
 pierre. You must excuse us if we have not your 
 frugality, and if we could not be contented, like you, 
 with occupying a small room above a carpenter's 
 shop, dining at his table, and enjoying the company 
 of such humble and uncultivated friends. But, so 
 far as I am concerned, I will throw no impediment in 
 the way of your experiment, although I am afraid 
 that you are levelling down, instead of levelling up, 
 and that, instead of raising scullions and rag-pickers 
 to the standard of gentlemen, you will sink gentle 
 men to the standard of the former. Oh ! oh ! What 
 do I see ? Sir Samuel Romilly entering through 
 yonder door. I am delighted. He must have lately 
 arrived from England. Brissot, do me the favor not 
 to bite him. Put your anglophobia into your pocket, 
 as long as he is under my roof. Besides, remember 
 that he is of French origin, and that it is the revoca 
 tion of the edict of Nantes which compelled him to 
 be born an Englishman. It is not his fault." Slightly 
 bowing to the group which he left, he glided slowly 
 toward his English friend, for he never was known to 
 do anything with eagerness or haste.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CONTRAST BETWEEN THE ENGLISH AND FRENCH 1 
 NATIONAL CHARACTER MIRABEAU REVIEWS 
 CRITICALLY SOME OF HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 
 
 WARMLY greeting Sir Samuel Romilly, Talleyrand 
 led him to the sofa where still remained Gouverneur 
 Morris and Lafayette, to whom he introduced that 
 distinguished member of the English bar. After an 
 exchange of mutual civilities, he was earnestly re 
 quested to express with the utmost frankness his 
 opinion on the works of the National Assembly, and 
 on the possibility of giving to France such institu 
 tions as had secured the liberties, the prosperity, and 
 the glory of England. Sir Samuel hesitated a good 
 while, but yielding at last to pressing solicitations, he 
 spoke in these terms : 
 
 " You have decided so abruptly on so many ques 
 tions, that I do not know which of them I can take 
 first into consideration. Besides, there is hardly a 
 question which is completely isolated. Generally a 
 question is so connected with others, that it is impos 
 sible to pronounce on it any sound judgment without 
 examining it in relation to its surrounding satellites. 
 The great fault committed, for instance, in your 
 National Assembly, was to work separately on each 
 portion of your constitution in utter forgetfulness of 
 the other parts, and then to try afterward to dovetail 
 them into one harmonious whole. The consequence 
 
 (263)
 
 264 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 is, that you have produced an edifice which can not 
 be expected to hang together. There is a conspicuous 
 want of regularity and adaptation in its proportions. 
 Some of the columns are too weak; others unneces 
 sarily strong. It is an incoherent mass which will 
 not stand the slightest shock. It is a gigantic struct 
 ure, whose foundations, instead of being deeply laid, 
 repose merely on the surface of the soil without any 
 reference to the superincumbent weight. This is due 
 to what may be called an organic defect in your 
 national character. In an Assembly convened for the 
 most important of all human purposes, there was in 
 almost every member an extreme impatience to bring 
 himself forward and to move faster than his com 
 petitors. There was no concert, no preparation in 
 that body. Every one was for himself, and strove to 
 surprise the Assembly by some novel and unexpected 
 proposition. Everything was done under the whip 
 and spur of the moment. Jealousies and personal 
 rivalries, leading to acrimonious altercations, were the 
 cause of a total want of preconcerted action. There 
 was no pulling together to attain one object. But 
 every one tugged separately at his own little rope, at 
 the end of which was attached some favorite hobby, 
 which was to be dragged on the stage without delay 
 and at whatever costs. To shine exclusively was the 
 aspiration of every heart. It became a war of amour 
 propre. I can not see in the deliberations of the 
 National Assembly any evidence of patient study or 
 meditation, and of calm discussion. All the decrees 
 of that body seem to have been carried at the sword's 
 point, as if your orators had been the leaders of a 
 storming party. Fury pulled down, and haste was 
 the architect that built up. All had been levelled to
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 2 6$ 
 
 the ground at once, without hesitation ; and, without 
 pausing to reflect on the lessons imprinted on those 
 ruins, a general and instantaneous reconstruction was 
 attempted, in the mere wantonness of power, by the 
 fanaticism of self-conceit. Such is the overweening 
 opinion evidently entertained by the Assembly of 
 their own wisdom and of the salutary comprehensive 
 ness of their powers, that they would, no doubt, 
 readily undertake the reconstruction, not only of 
 France, but also of all the nations of the earth, if 
 permitted to do so. 
 
 "Allow me to say that the predominating trait in 
 the French character is self-confidence. With a few 
 exceptions, which rather prove than disprove the 
 general rule, there is nothing which a member of the 
 National Assembly thinks that he can not do. It is 
 impossible to imagine a body of men more sincerely 
 convinced that they are all legislators of the highest 
 order, and that their mission is to repair all the faults 
 of the past, to extirpate from the human mind the 
 very seeds of error, and to secure forever the hap 
 piness of unborn generations in future ages. It struck 
 me, on a close examination of your proceedings, 
 that, when venturing on grounds that required the 
 utmost circumspection, you progressed with an assur 
 ance which showed that you were not checked, or 
 even retarded, by the slightest doubt as to the perfect 
 appropriateness of every one of your acts. The 
 National Assembly seemed to assume for itself in 
 temporal matters as much of infallibility as is claimed 
 spiritually by the Church of Rome. Any opposition 
 or protest, on the part of the minority, only increased 
 the self-satisfaction of the majority. When the King 
 ventured to send some modest remonstrances in re-
 
 2 66 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 lation to their mode of expressing their ' declaration 
 of rights,' they were astonished at the audacity of 
 those ministers who had gone so far as to hazard any 
 criticism on any one of their acts, and Necker, who 
 was the author of those remonstrances, began to lose 
 favor with them. 
 
 " Being an Englishman, of French descent, I think 
 that I can, better than anybody else, compare im 
 partially the character of the two nations in a legis 
 lative point of view. I am, of course, very familiar 
 with the proceedings of the British Parliament, and 
 I have paid the most minute attention to all the 
 doings of the National Assembly of France. There 
 is nothing, in my sight, more striking than the timid 
 ity and modesty of the English in legislation, and 
 the boldness and self-confidence of the French on 
 the same subject. If one hundred persons were 
 stopped at random in the streets of London, and if it 
 was proposed to them to assume the direction of the 
 government, I am certain that ninety-nine would re 
 fuse. But were the same question, under the same 
 circumstances, put in the streets of Paris, I should 
 not be afraid of betting that, out of one hundred, 
 ninety-nine would accept the proposition." 
 
 These remarks seemed to afford infinite amusement 
 to Gouverneur Morris. Sir Samuel noticed it. " Mr. 
 Morris," he said, " I think that I am paying a great 
 compliment to General Lafayette and to Mr. de Tal 
 leyrand. There are very few Frenchmen in whose 
 presence I would venture to speak so frankly." 
 
 " Pray go on," replied Morris. " America loves 
 France, and will not indiscreetly repeat the whole 
 some truths which you speak to her noble ally, who, 
 it is to be hoped, would profit by your gentle and
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 2 6/ 
 
 well-meant castigation, if not confined within so nar 
 row a circle of listeners." 
 
 " What is remarkable," continued Sir Samuel, bow 
 ing with a smile to Morris, " is, that so many of the 
 speeches and reports made in the National Assembly, 
 were manufactured outside of that body. Members 
 did not scruple to read speeches which they had not 
 composed, and to decorate themselves with borrowed 
 feathers, to the certain knowledge of hundreds. No 
 Englishman could have been found, disposed thus to 
 bask openly in the glaring light of public imposture. 
 No Englishman of any reputation whatever would 
 have stooped to perform the humiliating part of 
 mouthing as his own, before an audience, the compo 
 sition of another. Were I to go to any one of your col 
 leagues and suggest to him some glittering idea, he 
 would fling it at once from the tribune into the As 
 sembly, without pausing one minute to consider the 
 consequences. Not so with an Englishman ; he would 
 be afraid of exposing himself. He would carefully 
 study the subject, to enable himself to answer objec 
 tions, and not to be easily beaten from the position he 
 might take. A Frenchman affirms with inconceivable 
 thoughtlessness. In general, he attaches very little 
 importance to an assertion. An Englishman reflects 
 before believing, speaking, and acting. Before invit 
 ing the judgment of the public, an Englishman will 
 dry up all the sources of information within his reach ; 
 he will look for authorities by which to be backed, 
 and he will try to render himself master of all the 
 circumstances of the case which he makes his own. 
 A Frenchman thinks that wit alone will be sufficient 
 to extricate him out of all difficulties. He will readily 
 undertake that which is the most foreign to the nat-
 
 2 68 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 ure of his capacities. Thus Mirabeau had himself 
 appointed chairman of a committee on mines, when 
 I know personally that his ignorance on the subject 
 can not be surpassed. A Frenchman thinks that wit, 
 not common sense, is the pass-key with which he can 
 open every lock. An Englishman believes that knowl 
 edge and practice are indispensable to insure success. 
 Once a French gentleman was asked, in my presence, 
 if he could perform on the piano. ' I do not know,' 
 he replied, ' for I have never tried , but I will see 
 what I can do.' This sounds like a comical exaggera 
 tion. But substitute the word government for the 
 word piano, legislation for music, and, instead of one 
 French gentleman, you will have twelve hundred." 
 
 Whilst this conversation was going on, in a distant 
 corner of the room sat Mirabeau by himself, with a 
 scowl on his brow, which, no doubt, warned many not 
 to trespass on the solitary musings of the lion, when 
 evidently in an unanr'able mood. Aubert Dubayet 
 was not deterred by it from approaching, and, sitting 
 in an arm-chair next to him, said with an affection 
 ate tone : " You do not seem to be well, Count." 
 
 " I am very unwell," replied Mirabeau. " My di 
 gestion has become bad. Ah ! my friend, when the 
 first functionary in the establishment is disabled, it is 
 time to close it up. But who could help being dys 
 peptic, when looking at many of those creatures 
 who are parading here? Chamfort, for instance, who 
 affects to adorn with eccentricity what he calls the 
 independence of his character, whilst he licks the heels 
 of birth, wealth, and power. He wishes to pass for a 
 misanthrope, but his misanthropy is nothing but 
 wounded pride and manifests itself by epigrams, each 
 of which it takes him two months to sharpen. He
 
 A USER T D USA YET. 269 
 
 has the audacity to say that the knowledge of the 
 world has bronzed his heart, as if the fellow ever had 
 such an organ. His whole body is nothing but a" 
 mass of diseased liver, secreting the worst kind of 
 bile, and nothing else. He is a revolutionist, because 
 he hates the superiorities which overshadow his little 
 ness. He talks like an austere moralist, when his 
 very bones are rotting from corruption. Whilst others 
 are attacking with the ponderous ram the colossus of 
 despotism, he is scratching it with his satirical arrows. 
 He is the Thersites of the revolution." 
 
 Robespierre happened to pass before them. " Look 
 at that man, Aubert Dubayet," said Mirabeau. " His 
 friends say that he is incorruptible. Better the thirst 
 for gold than the thirst for blood. Beware of that 
 compound of the vampire and of the Aristides. It 
 is not that I do not appreciate integrity. On the 
 contrary, I have always thought that, if probity did 
 not exist, it would have to be invented as the best 
 means of success in this world.* But this man smells 
 of the charnel house." 
 
 " Many of those men here present are remarkable 
 for their merit," said Dubayet. 
 
 "Yes," continued Mirabeau, "some there are; but 
 few that are not overrated. Most of them are sophists, 
 who would discuss one month on syllables, and who 
 would not hesitate to destroy in one night a mon 
 archy of one thousand years without knowing what to 
 put in its place. Others there are who are rank cow 
 ards, and who, after having unchained the bull, are 
 afraid of taking him by the horns. They are moles, 
 
 * Dumont's " Recollections of Mirabeau."
 
 2/0 AUBERT DUBAYET. 
 
 fit only to work under-ground and upheave it without 
 being seen." 
 
 Camille Desmoulins bowed to them at a distance. 
 "What of him ?" inquired Dubayet. 
 
 " A man of unripe talent very green for the pres 
 ent," replied Mirabeau. " He shoots always beyond 
 the mark. If you told him to reward a lacquey with 
 a glass of brandy, he would give him the whole bot 
 tle. One merit he has, however : it is to make a good 
 many people admire him when he speaks of things of 
 which he has not the slightest idea." 
 
 A ubert Dubayet. "I see Mr. de Lameth convers 
 ing with Mr. de Lafayette." 
 
 Mirabeau. " A well-matched pair. Lameth is one 
 of those men who would constitute a monarchy with 
 out retaining in it a single monarchical element. He 
 
 is a bag of wind. As to Lafayette have you read 
 
 the novel of " Clarissa " by Richardson ? Well, if you 
 have, you are acquainted with the ineffably stupid per 
 fection of her lover, Grandisson. Now, you will un 
 derstand why I call that man Cromwell Grandisson. 
 He wants to be both, and it will ruin him. There 
 are times when virtue is out of place. A revolution 
 is a pandemonium it admits of no angel." 
 
 Dubayet. " Who is that man bowing so low to 
 Mr. de Talleyrand ? " 
 
 Mirabeau. " Do you not know him ? It is Bar- 
 riere de Vieuzac a Gascon, who will pipe alternately 
 for monarchy, or liberty, according to his pay. His 
 natural disposition is to be mean, to fawn, and to flat 
 ter. He would, if he had anything to gain by it, write 
 sonnets to the hangman in the impassioned style of a 
 lover. There is no crime which he would not white 
 wash into the semblance of innocence. He would in-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 271 
 
 elite an idyl on the St. Bartholomew. Should he die, 
 he would be appointed the poet laureate of the court 
 of Pluto ; he would address tender epistles to the 
 Furies, soft madrigals to Proserpina, and become the 
 Anacreon of hell." 
 
 Dubayct. " Barnave is taking- him by the arm." 
 
 Mirabeau. " I am sorry for it. Barnave ought to 
 have more respect for himself ; for Barnave is a tree 
 that is growing to be one day the mast of a ship of 
 the line." * 
 
 Dubayet. " Target joins them. He is said to be 
 a distinguished member of the Assembly for talent 
 and eloquence." 
 
 Mirabeau. " Nonsense. He is swollen with words. 
 His eloquence is dropsical. Tap it, and you will have 
 nothing but water." 
 
 Dubayet. " Ho ! Ho ! Here is Volney, with his 
 book on ' Ruins ' reflecting its sombre hue on his face. 
 What an atrabiliary look! How thin and dry he is ! 
 He puts me in mind of some piece of parchment ex 
 humed from Pompeii." 
 
 Mirabeau. " A thorough radical. He is one of those 
 men who make me exclaim : What an admirable thing 
 would democracy be, if there were no democrats ! It 
 is laughable to see him shake hands with L'abbe La- 
 mourette, who is also an author, having published a 
 book entitled ' Meditations of my Soul.' Pretty 
 meditations they are ! He is such an apostle of mod 
 eration in everything that he recommends not to be 
 lieve even in God more than is necessary. Ha ! ha ! 
 I see L'abbe Sieyes, the would-be Mohammed of the 
 revolution, retiring with D'Espremenil, the Crispin 
 
 * Dumont's " Recollections of Mirabeau."
 
 2/2 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Catiline, and with Camus, the ultra radical, and ultra 
 rigid Cato of modern times, who, on account of hi? 
 incandescent nose, is well named the red flag. Good 
 night to the worthy trio. Will you dine with me to 
 morrow, Dubayet ? " 
 
 Dubayet. " I thank you, Count. I dine with Mr. 
 de Necker." 
 
 Mirabeau. " Good. Study him, for he is a celebrity. 
 You will find him to be a clock which is always be 
 hind time. He does not know the epoch he is living 
 in. Such men are pigmies in a revolution. Malle- 
 branche, the philosopher, saw nothing out of God ; 
 Necker, the banker and would-be statesman, sees 
 nothing out of Necker. As to France, he has con 
 centrated it into the stock-jobbing, financiering shops 
 of Rue Vivienne" 
 
 Dubayet. " I am to meet at his house some of the 
 other members of the Cabinet Claviere, for instance." 
 
 Mirabeau. " I like him. He has the heart of a 
 child and the head of a man. But he needs a regu 
 lator. Left to himself, he always varies." 
 
 Dubayet. " I am also to meet, I understand, the 
 Count de Clermont Tonnerre, who is called the Pitt 
 of France." 
 
 Mirabeau. " The appellation may be deserved. It 
 is questionable, however, whether Pitt would be flat 
 tered to be called the Clermont Tonnerre of England. 
 But I forget myself here. Dubayet, what time is it 
 by yonder clock? As late as two in the morning ! I 
 must go; come with me; I'll drop you down at your 
 lodgings. As to myself, I'll have to spend the rest 
 of the night in correcting proof-sheets ; fora pamphlet 
 of mine must make its appearance to-morrow. By-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 273 
 
 the-by, Aubert, do you know that I am the first 
 proof-reader in the kingdom, and yet nobody gives 
 me any credit for it. May you, my friend, be better 
 appreciated whilst living ! Justice will be done to me 
 only after my death." 
 
 12'
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A PORTRAIT OF MIRABEAU BY HIMSELF HE AN- 
 NOUNCES IN THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY THE 
 DEATH OF FRANKLIN. 
 
 SEVERAL days had elapsed since Talleyrand's even 
 ing reception, and Aubert Dubayet had nowhere met 
 Mirabeau, who had not even made his appearance at 
 the National Assembly. He, therefore, rang at the 
 door of his illustrious friend and sent in his card. He 
 was instantly admitted, and found Mirabeau in his 
 bedroom, wrapped up in a loose morning-gown. He 
 looked much fatigued and worn out. Round his neck 
 were bloody bandages. 
 
 " I am glad to see you," he said to Dubayet. " I 
 had caused myself to be denied to everybody. Not 
 at home was the word ; but an exception has been 
 made for you, my friend. You are not mixed up with 
 all our miserable intrigues and our halting, one-leg 
 ambitions, and there is something refreshing in your 
 honest nature that soothes my irritated nerves. Your 
 person must be impregnated with some charm bor 
 rowed from the virgin wilderness of your American 
 cradle. I wonder if all Louisianians are like you ? 
 Ah ! dear Dubayet, I am dying. You see that I have 
 been leeched copiously. My blood is inflamed ; it 
 rushes up to my head, and affects my sight, which is 
 often much impaired. I am compelled to be bled fre 
 quently. If I believed in slow poisons, I should be 
 (274)
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 275 
 
 disposed to suspect that some drug of that sort has 
 been administered to me. I am perishing by inches ; 
 a secret fire consumes me inwardly." 
 
 " Faith ! " exclaimed Dubayet, " considering your 
 way of living, you must be a salamander, not to be 
 already consumed to ashes ! " 
 
 " I will reform," replied Mirabeau. " I am sick of 
 this abominable world. Before long, I will renounce 
 ambition, kick away with my toe the temptation of 
 sinful pleasure, which has become a burden to me, 
 and live only for philosophy, agriculture, and friend 
 ship in a Tusculum of my own." 
 
 Aubert Dubayet smiled as he remembered the old 
 saying : 
 
 " The devil was sick ; the devil a monk would be ; 
 The devil got well ; devil of a monk was he." 
 
 Mirabeau went on: "That stupid National Assem 
 bly ! I have an indigestion of them ; they are killing 
 me. The blockheads ! They have assumed to gov 
 ern the King, instead of governing through him. But 
 soon neither he nor they will govern ; a vile faction 
 will seize on the government, and will cover the 
 whole surface of France with a flood of horrors. Were 
 I to descend into the tomb, my death would be the 
 signal for factious pigmies to advance to the front 
 rank. Robespierre, Potion, and a multitude of others, 
 who are mere shadows in the background as long as 
 I remain on the horizon, will become great men if I 
 disappear. There are in me inspired anticipations of 
 the future ; I feel at times that there is in my bosom 
 something of the old spirit of prophecy. I assure 
 you, without any presumptuous boasting I assure 
 you, because it is so that there is in me a political
 
 276 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 sagacity, a certain prevision of coming events, a knowl 
 edge of men and things, which amounts almost to a 
 supernatural intuition. I speak of myself as impar 
 tially as I would of a person dead a thousand years 
 ago. The secrets of the human heart lie open before 
 me ; there is no mask which a glance of mine does 
 not penetrate. This infallibility of my second sight, 
 which is as sure as positive revelation, serves me bet 
 ter than would any multitude of spies in the camp 
 of the enemy. I tell you that those braying asses 
 whom I now check in their mad career, will ere long 
 inaugurate ferocious measures and butcheries, with 
 out even having the execrable honor of a civil war. 
 When I shall be dead, Dubayet, do not believe the 
 calumnies that will be circulated to blacken my 
 memory. Although vicious in many respects, I ad 
 mire intensely what is good, moral, and pure. I have 
 the highest esteem for energetic and virtuous charac 
 ters, a sort of enthusiasm for all that is grand, and 
 that enthusiasm has never been weakened by the con 
 sciousness that I have of my own imperfections and 
 errors. My soul is like a mirror, which may be mo 
 mentarily tarnished by the breath of depravity, but 
 which soon resumes its bright and polished surface. 
 My conduct is often in contradiction with my profes 
 sions, not because I am capable of the meanness of 
 falsehood, but because I am carried away by irresist 
 ible passions. My reason is luminous, but sometimes 
 clouded by the fumes of the evil instincts of the flesh. 
 The original elements of my nature were sound and 
 pure, but a tempestuous wind has occasionally swept 
 over them, lashed them into fury, and the ship in 
 which morality was embarked, broke more than once 
 her sheet-anchors. There is much of everything in
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 277 
 
 men ; much that is good, and much that is bad. But 
 is it not true, my friend, be it said without vanity, 
 that no one can know me without being under the 
 impression forever, and beyond the possibility of 
 forgetfulness, that he has stood before the magnifi 
 cent grandeur of the fallen angel he that was once 
 the brightest among the hosts of Heaven? Will it not 
 be admitted, whatever may be said of me as a private 
 man, that, as a public one, I was born to fill with my 
 immense activity and personality any sphere, however 
 large it might be, in which I could possibly be placed 
 by the caprice of circumstance ? " 
 
 Mirabeau paused, and his face assumed an expres 
 sion of deep sadness. After a minute or two of silence, 
 he said : " Much talk there is of my venality. If some 
 people are to be believed, I have literally set my 
 self up at auction, and the hammer of corruption ad 
 judicates me to the highest bidder. If I have been so 
 long in the market, it seems to me that I ought to 
 have gained enough to have bought a kingdom, and I 
 do not understand how it is that I have remained so 
 poor, after having had all the kings of the earth and 
 their treasures at my disposal. I admit that I have 
 not been very delicate in money matters. But my 
 pride has been at least a good substitute for honesty, 
 if I lack the latter. I would at any time have flung 
 out of my windows anybody who should have 
 dared to make to me a humiliating proposition. Be 
 tween you and me, I have lately accepted a pension 
 from the King and from his brother, the Count of 
 Provence, because I regard myself as an agent in 
 trusted with their interests, and I take their money to 
 govern them, but not to be governed. If Spain and 
 England have bought me, as reported, what has be-
 
 278 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 come of the immense sums which I must have re 
 ceived? How is it that I shall die insolvent? It is 
 true that I live in a state of opulence, but it is a politi 
 cal necessity, as much as a matter of taste with me. 
 If I am supplied with money by the King, I spend it 
 for his service. I can not, therefore, be deemed guilty 
 of the baseness of cupidity. I am nothing else, after 
 all, than the banker of the Crown." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Dubayet, with undisguised 
 amazement, " you have been won over to the King? " 
 
 ''Yes," replied Mirabeau. " It is time to stop the 
 red-hot wheels of the revolution. I am for the liberty 
 of the people, and not for their dictatorship. I am 
 for order, and not for anarchy. The monarchy must 
 be saved, or France, and even Europe, will be deluged 
 with blood. The constitution concocted by the Na 
 tional Assembly is a monstrosity. There is too much 
 of a republic in it for a monarchy, and too much of a 
 monarchy for a republic. It is neither the one, nor 
 the other; the king in it is a surplusage. In it the 
 semblance of royalty is visible everywhere ; but where 
 is its substance and reality to be found ? I want no 
 bastard government, no mongrel constitution." 
 
 " This new enterprise of yours," observed Aubert 
 Dubayet, " seems to me as difficult as if you attempted 
 to stop the Falls of Niagara." 
 
 " It is not demonstrated to me that I could not," 
 replied Mirabeau. " I have not seen them ; but I see 
 what is going on around me, and I know what I can 
 do. Let the King listen to me, and I will so shape 
 this revolution as to make it a blessing for the nation 
 and for himself." 
 
 Here his valet, Teutch, entered, and informed him 
 that a deputation of the people wished to address him.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 279 
 
 " No," shouted Mirabeau fiercely. " Tell them 
 that I am sick in bed "; and, turning to Dubayet, he 
 said to him with a sardonic laugh : " It is no excuse, 
 but the truth. I am sick of them, sick to death. By 
 the immortal Gods, do those fellows imagine that, after 
 having taken royalty by the throat, crushed it to the 
 ground, and set my foot on its breast, I am to be the 
 valet of king multitude ! The impudent knaves ! I 
 can not but laugh at the idea. Haw ! haw ! haw ! A 
 good joke. Do you know the language of the popu 
 lace to me to me, in whose veins runs the blood of 
 the Guises and of the Caramans ? Hear how the gib 
 bering monkeys talk : ' Speak loud, Mirabeau ; say this, 
 or say that, if thou wishest to be applauded and tap 
 ped encouragingly on the shoulder. Play the trage 
 dian, Mirabeau ; quick, ascend the stage ; we want an 
 explosion of wrath or hatred on thy part ; if thou 
 valuest our approbation wake up, Mirabeau ; lash thy 
 sides and roar like the lion, or scream like the eagle, or 
 thunder like Jove ; beg, weep, laugh, praise, or scold, 
 act, or do not act, as our passions or whims command ; 
 uproot, break, and kill, or caper and blow thy nose at 
 our beck like a child, if thou wishest to retain thy 
 popularity.' I have enough of this, forsooth ! I was 
 not made to obey the hatless, shoeless, shirtless, and 
 howling would-be master who issues his edicts from 
 the gutters of the streets, and who thinks that he does 
 me a favor, when he permits me to wear powder in 
 my hair, to ride in a carriage, and to have behind that 
 carriage a lacquey in livery. No, no ; it is irrevocably 
 settled in my mind. The Count de Mirabeau brings 
 back his allegiance to the King, the knight swears 
 fealty to the Queen, and the strong man flies to the 
 rescue of the woman who claims his protection."
 
 2 80 * UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 The American minister happened to be announced 
 and was cordially received by Mirabeau. 
 
 " Count," said Morris, " I have just received bad 
 news from America, and you are the first to know it. 
 Franklin is dead." 
 
 Mirabeau jumped up from the arm-chair in which 
 he had languidly seated himself, and rang violently. 
 Teutch rushed in. " Order my coach, quick ; powder 
 my hair; give me my coat; haste, haste," said hurri 
 edly his impetuous master. " I want to be the first 
 to announce the death of Franklin to the National 
 Assembly. You will, my friends, both of you, accom 
 pany me, I hope." 
 
 In a short time they entered the hall where sat that 
 body. Mirabeau ascended the tribune. "How's that? 
 How's that ? " was heard on all sides. " Where do you 
 come from so abruptly and unexpectedly? You have 
 no right to speak ; it is not your turn. You interfere 
 with the order of the day. Order of the day ! Order 
 of the day!" vociferated the majority of the members, 
 who evidently were not disposed to show at that mo 
 ment any favor to the orator. Mirabeau remained at 
 the tribune, calm and imposing. The tumult was in 
 creasing, when he said in his most imperious and sten 
 torian tone : " Silence ! and listen to me. Franklin is 
 dead ! " The silence of the tomb immediately pre 
 vailed, and Mirabeau continued in these words: 
 
 " Franklin is dead ! That great man who gave lib 
 erty to America, and whose genius, by its discoveries, 
 has shed such a flood of light on the progress of civil 
 ization in Europe, has returned to the bosom of the 
 Deity. 
 
 " The sage whom two worlds claim as their own, 
 who ranks as high in the history of sciences as in the
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 28 1 
 
 history of empires, occupies unquestionably a most 
 exalted position among the human race. 
 
 " Long enough have political and official notifica 
 tions been given of the death of those who were great 
 only in their funeral orations. Long enough has the 
 etiquette of courts proclaimed hypocritical mournings. 
 Nations ought to grieve only for the loss of their bene 
 factors. Their representatives ought to recommend 
 to their homage none but the heroes of humanity. 
 
 "The Congress has ordered that, in the fourteen 
 Confederate States, a mourning of two months shall 
 be observed for the death of Franklin ; and America, 
 at this moment, pays this tribute of veneration and 
 gratitude to one of the fathers of her constitution. 
 
 " Would it not be worthy of you, gentlemen, to 
 join in this truly religious demonstration and to par 
 ticipate in that homage which is thus solemnly ren 
 dered to the rights of man, and to the philosopher who 
 has the most contributed to their propagation on 
 earth? Antiquity would have raised altars to that 
 vast and powerful genius who, for the benefit of man 
 kind, embracing the universe within the grasp of his 
 mind, knew how to conquer tyranny on earth and sub 
 jugate to his will the thunderbolt of Heaven. Free 
 and enlightened France owes at least a testimonial of 
 souvenir and regret to the memory of one of the great 
 est men who ever served philosophy and liberty. 
 
 " I propose that it be decreed, that the National 
 Assembly shall go into mourning during three days, 
 for Benjamin Franklin." 
 
 This proposition was adopted by a unanimous 
 acclamation. 
 
 A few days after, Aubert Dubayet, according to a 
 pressing request which he had received, called on
 
 2 82 ^ UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Mirabeau, whom he found studying attentively the 
 map of France, and marking with a pencil several 
 points on its Northern frontier. " I need you," said 
 Mirabeau, " as you must have inferred from the tone of 
 my note. I have a most confidential communication to 
 make to you, and a service to ask at your hands. But, 
 before doing so, tell me if you have any political in 
 formation to communicate." 
 
 " No," replied Aubert Dubayet. " I have nothing of 
 special significance to relate. But I think that the sky 
 is darkening. I have just been conversing with Gen 
 eral Lafayette. He speaks of the multiplying dangers 
 that menace the progress of reform in France. I in 
 quired what were those dangers. He answered : ' The 
 refugees hovering about the frontiers, intrigues in 
 most of the despotic and aristocratic cabinets, our 
 regular army divided into Tory officers and undisci 
 plined soldiers, licentiousness among the people not 
 easily repressed, the capital, that gives the tone to the 
 empire, distracted by anti-revolutionary or factious 
 parties, the Assembly fatigued by hard labor and very 
 unmanagerable.' But he added : ' however, according 
 to the popular motto, fa ira, it will go on.' "* 
 
 Mirabeau shrugged his shoulders: "Poor Lafay 
 ette! Honest simpleton!" he muttered. "Will the 
 scales never fall from his eyes? fa ira will not do. 
 fa ira is not a popular motto, but, what is worse, is 
 a popular song. Aubert, beware of popular songs in 
 a revolution ! The devil is always at the bottom of 
 them all. Does not Lafayette know what are the 
 words which come after $a ira ? If he does not, I will 
 tell him they are : Les aristocrates a la lantcrne.^ It 
 
 * Lafayette to Washington. 
 
 t The aristocrats to the lamp-post !
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 283 
 
 is there that he will dangle, if he does not take care. 
 Does he not know that faction, at this very hour, is 
 predominant in Paris, that liberty and equality begin 
 to be the only watchwords of the people, and that the 
 Jacobin Club has set up a journal which is spreading 
 the spirit of revolt and preparing a scaffold a la Stuart 
 for royalty? " 
 
 Dubayet. " Lafayette has lent me this letter re 
 cently received by him from General Washington, 
 and which I have read with much interest. The 
 President, who seems to be well informed of the 
 condition of things here, is alarmed for the safety of 
 his friend." 
 
 Mirabeau. " Well may he be ! But let me hear 
 what he says." 
 
 Dubayet. Reading : " I assure you," writes Wash 
 ington to Lafayette, " that I have often contemplated, 
 with great anxiety, the danger to which you are per 
 sonally exposed by your peculiar and delicate situa 
 tion in the tumult of the time, and your letters are 
 far from quieting that friendly concern. But to one 
 who engages in hazardous enterprises for the good of 
 his country, and who is guided by pure and upright 
 views, as I am sure is the case with you, life is but a 
 secondary consideration. 
 
 " The tumultuous populace of large cities are ever 
 to be dreaded. Their indiscriminate violence pros 
 trates, for the time, all public authority, and its con 
 sequences are sometimes extensive and terrible. In 
 Paris, we may suppose these tumults are peculiarly 
 disastrous at this time, when the public mind is in a 
 ferment, and when, as is always the case on such oc 
 casions, there are not wanted wicked and designing 
 men whose element is .confusion, and who will not
 
 284 A UBER T D UBA YE T - 
 
 hesitate in destroying the public tranquillity to gain 
 a favorite point." 
 
 Mirabeau. "General Washington has a hundred 
 times more sagacity, more common sense, and brains 
 than General Lafayette." 
 
 Dubayet. " I have also been shown a letter from 
 Jefferson, who says that the popular cause prevails 
 only with a part of Washington's Cabinet. He ex 
 presses ardent wishes that the French revolution may 
 be carried to its utmost results. He writes that the 
 permanence of the American revolution leans, in some 
 degree, on that of France, and that a failure here 
 would be a powerful argument to prove that there 
 must be a failure in America. He maintains that the 
 success of the French revolution is necessary to stay 
 up their own, and prevent its falling back to that kind 
 of half-way house the English constitution* These 
 are his very expressions." 
 
 Mirabcau. " Better the half-way house than the 
 mad-house. Your Jefferson, were he here, would 
 soon lead us to the latter, if permitted. You see, 
 Aubert Dubayet, how fully justified I am in taking 
 the step on which I have resolved. The monarchy 
 must be saved. There is no time to be lost." 
 
 At that moment, a gentle tap was heard at a door 
 that led into inner apartments. "Come in," said Mi- 
 rabeau, and Tintin Calandro entered with his violin 
 in his hand. He looked somewhat confused when he 
 saw Dubayet, with whom, however, he shook hands 
 cordially. 
 
 "Monsieur le comte" he said to Mirabeau, " I see 
 that you are engaged, and that the moment is not 
 
 * Irving "s " Life of Washington," p. 91, vol. v.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 285 
 
 opportune for our musical lesson. I will call again," 
 and he turned to depart. Mirabeau sprang on him, 
 and, holding him by the arm, exclaimed : " Stop, 
 stop, man ! Don't be in such a hurry. Drop all dis 
 guise at once; it is not necessary. Is not Aubert 
 Dubayet your friend? He is mine, and I trust him 
 entirely. I have even summoned him here, that he 
 may know all. He must help us ; speak, then, with 
 out reserve. What says the Princess de Lamballe? 
 Does the Queen assent to all my conditions, and will 
 she grant me an audience?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Tintin Calandro. "She will meet 
 you secretly and alone, to-morrow night, at twelve 
 o'clock, in the garden of Versailles, at the foot of the 
 statues of Laocoon and his sons struggling against the 
 twin serpents. I am commissioned to bring back 
 your answer." 
 
 " Fly, then," said Mirabeau, " and tell the Queen 
 that nothing but death shall prevent my being in 
 time at the spot designated." Then, turning to Du 
 bayet : " Dear friend, you must be my companion. You 
 alone I can trust on this momentous occasion. At 
 nine o'clock to-morrow evening, two horses, as fleet 
 as the wind, shall be in attendance outside of the 
 gates of Paris, at the most secluded place which I can 
 select, to avoid observation, and which I shall let you 
 know. Come armed to the teeth under your cloak. 
 We shall be masked, and must speed to Versailles 
 through by-ways. He who will attempt to penetrate 
 through our disguise must die."
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A MIDNIGHT INTERVIEW IN THE GARDEN OF VER 
 SAILLES BETWEEN MIRABEAU AND THE QUEEN 
 DEATH OF MIRABEAU. 
 
 AT twelve precisely, on the night of the following 
 day, a postern of the palace of Versailles opened on 
 the side facing the garden, and a woman, wrapped in 
 a long veil, came out. It was Marie Antoinette, 
 Queen of France. She was followed by two compan 
 ions of her own sex; one was the Princess de Lam- 
 balle, and the other the Princess de Polignac. At a 
 short distance behind them walked a young man of 
 distinguished appearance. In his belt hung a pair of 
 silver-mounted pistols, and he carried in his hand a 
 sheathed sword, as if he held himself ready to draw it 
 at the instant it might be wanted. He was the Baron 
 de Vaudreuil, a descendant of the Marquis de Vaud- 
 reuil, one of the former Governors of Louisiana. His 
 romantic and respectful devotion for the Queen is 
 related in the memoirs of the epoch. The party 
 moved rapidly toward a round point or spot of small 
 dimensions, fenced in by a circular row of shrubbery, 
 to which led several alleys or avenues of dense hedges, 
 six feet high, from which emerged at regular intervals 
 some tall trees, like those towers which overtop the 
 walls of a fortified city. In the center of that round 
 spot rose a monument that commemorated the 
 tragic fate of Laocoon and his sons, as related in the 
 (286)
 
 A UBEK T D USA YE T. 287 
 
 immortal verses of Virgil. It had been lately erected 
 by one of the most celebrated sculptors of the time, 
 who, with the permission of the good-natured King, 
 had selected this place, where he thought his work 
 would be seen to the best advantage. The pedestal 
 was large, and apparently of massive Italian marble* 
 from Carrara. The Queen alone entered this open 
 spot. Her attendants disappeared behind a thick 
 bush of roses and myrtles. Marie Antoinette had 
 hardly reached the foot of the monument, when a 
 man issued from behind the circular mass of foliage 
 which enveloped the spot. He advanced slowly, hat 
 in hand. When within a short but respectful distance 
 from the Queen, after having bowed profoundly, he 
 stood erect, calm, motionless, and evidently awaiting 
 to be addressed. The Queen at first had lost her 
 self-possession when facing the terrible Titan whose 
 blows had almost destroyed a monarchy, the basis 
 of which had been cemented by a thousand years. 
 She blushed, then became deadly pale, and a visible 
 shudder passed over her whole frame. She soon 
 mastered her emotion, however, and said, in a voice 
 that was but slightly tremulous : 
 
 " Mr. de Mirabeau, your services have been accept 
 ed, and, with the King's consent, I have granted the 
 secret audience which you desired." 
 
 Mirabeau. "I am inexpressibly grateful, Madam, 
 for your Majesty's condescension. I have anxiously 
 wished for this opportunity to present to your Majesty 
 the homage of a devoted subject, and to receive from 
 the lips of the Queen the assurance that my services 
 are accepted on the conditions which I have thought 
 necessary to indicate, for the sake of the royal family, 
 for the permanence of the monarchy, for the pros-
 
 288 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 perity of France, and also in token of the confirma 
 tion by the court of the liberties of the people." 
 
 Marie Antoinette drew from her boscm a paper 
 which she handed to Mirabeau, saying: " It is signed 
 by the King and by myself, as you have stipulated." 
 At this moment a sense of her humiliation seemed to 
 have come over her, and to rouse her into a fit of un 
 controllable passion. Her eyes flashed, she drew her 
 self up, and, forgetful of all prudential considerations, 
 she thus spoke, in a haughty tone : " And what 
 guaranties will the Count de Mirabeau give to the 
 King and Queen of France in exchange for those 
 which he has exacted of his sovereigns? Shall we be 
 satisfied with his word of honor as to the fulfilment 
 of his obligations? Are his antecedents such as to 
 forbid distrust ? " All the wounded pride of her race 
 had gathered on the brow of the daughter of Maria 
 Theresa, and of a long line of imperial Caesars. 
 
 " Madam," replied Mirabeau, " I understand and ap 
 preciate all the force of the reproach implied in your 
 Majesty's question. There is nothing so terrible and 
 so unjust as the exaggerations of the judgments of 
 public opinion. There is nothing that could have 
 subjected me to a more excruciating torture than has 
 done the severity of that tribunal. I have long felt 
 that, if I had enjoyed personal consideration for un 
 blemished virtue, the whole of France would have 
 been at my feet. There are times, and at this present 
 moment more than ever before, when I would cheer 
 fully pass through an ocean of fire to purify the name 
 of Mirabeau. No language can express the agony 
 which the allusions of your Majesty have inflicted on 
 my heart. Alas ! I but too cruelly expiate the errors 
 of my youth ! "
 
 A UBER T D USA YET. 289 
 
 The eyes of Mirabeau became suffused with tears, 
 and two big scalding drops ran down his lion face. 
 Marie Antoinette saw his emotion, her woman's heart 
 softened, and she said in .a gentle tone: "Mr. de 
 Mirabeau, the faults of the past may not be irrepar 
 able, and suitable amends may be made for them. 
 We are assured that God forgives, when the prayer 
 of true repentance rises up to His footstool. But let 
 us only think of the present and of the future. I 
 hope that, now at least, all your aspirations are noble." 
 
 Mirabeau. " I wish that your Majesty could read 
 my heart. You would see that, if I destroy the ab 
 solute power which the King has inherited, it is not 
 from base motives, but to make him a greater and 
 happier monarch, satisfy the irresistible exigencies of 
 the epoch, establish on a solid basis the just liberties 
 of the people, and increase the glory and prosperity 
 of France. My whole ambition is to be the trusted 
 prime minister of the most powerful sovereign of 
 Europe, reigning over a free and grateful nation." 
 
 Marie Antoinette. " I understand. You wish to be 
 the Pitt of France." 
 
 Mirabeau. " I wish to be more than that, Madam. 
 My most intense aspiration is to eclipse, if possible, 
 all the past ministers of State. I feel myself strong 
 enough to gather around me, without envy and with 
 out fear, the ablest men of France in a luminous 
 phalanx. I wish to encircle my brow with a halo of 
 such effulgence as to dazzle the whole world, whilst 
 that brow shall still bow humbly to the throne of St. 
 Louis." 
 
 Marie Antoinette. "Then, if I comprehend your 
 views, Mr. de Mirabeau, your plan is to introduce 
 into France the government of Great Britain ? " 
 13
 
 290 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Mirabeau. "With such modifications as may be 
 required. The tottering throne can only be trade 
 steady by resting it on a House of Commons, and a 
 vigorous Peerage selected from our highest nobility. 
 Oh ! Madam, would to God that I could persuade 
 your Majesty to give up absolutely all distrust of me, 
 to enter frankly into the broad and straight road of 
 reform, and set aside forever all the prejudices of the 
 past ! Is not the rank of the sovereigns of Great 
 Britain sufficiently exalted? Is not their position far 
 safer and more enviable than that of despots whom 
 hidden perils ever threaten?" 
 
 Marie Antoinette. "You have in your possession 
 the written assurance that your sovereigns bind them 
 selves to follow you as their guide ; and now, before 
 we part, what advice do you give?" 
 
 Mirabeau. " The King, although apparently free, 
 is in reality in a state of captivity. He must escape 
 from such a position. Let him secretly prepare every 
 thing for his departure; let him go to Metz, or to 
 some other strong place where he has generals who 
 can answer for some faithful regiments. As soon as 
 he shall have reached his destination, let him issue a 
 proclamation making an appeal to France ; let him 
 publish to the world all that he has so benevolently 
 done, and what he yet intends to do ; and let him 
 depict in strong language the crimes of the capital ; 
 let him annul all the decrees of the National As 
 sembly, on the ground of their being contrary to the 
 instructions given by the electors to their representa 
 tives, and founded on a manifest usurpation. Let 
 him dissolve the Assembly, and order immediately 
 new elections. Let him, at the same time, instruct 
 all his military commandants to maintain their author-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 29 1 
 
 ity at whatever costs, and the high courts of justice 
 to resume their functions and proceed with the trial 
 of all rebels. Let him make an energetic appeal to 
 the whole nobility and summon them together, around 
 him, for the defense of the throne. I will remain in 
 Paris, and watch the movements of the Assembly. 
 As soon as the royal proclamation shall have reached 
 us, I will move that all the supporters of a constitu 
 tional monarchy depart, to meet again, with his 
 Majesty's sanction, and until their successors are 
 elected, at the place where the King shall have chosen 
 his residence. Should a portion of the Assembly re 
 main in session in Paris, and should the city support 
 their disobedience, all its communications with the 
 provinces must be interrupted, until it is reduced by 
 famine. The clergy, who have been stripped of all 
 their possessions, will, no doubt, exert all their 
 spiritual influence on the people, and the bishops 
 must be invited to meet and protest in a body against 
 the sacrilegious usurpations of the Assembly."* 
 
 Marie Antoinette. " This would be the signal for 
 civil war." 
 
 Mirabeau. " Permit me to say that your Majesty 
 is greatly in error. You see only the surface of 
 things, and you have no idea of the degree of attach 
 ment which the whole of France still retains for her 
 King. France is essentially monarchical. At the mo 
 ment when the King shall be free, the National As 
 sembly will be reduced to nothing. With him in their 
 midst, they constitute a colossus of strength ; with 
 out him, they will be a mountain of sand. At the 
 instigation of the Duke of Orleans, there may be 
 
 * This was really at one time Mirabeau 's plan.
 
 292 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 some movements attempted at the Palais Royal, but 
 they will be crushed in the bud. As to Lafayette, 
 should he pretend to play the part of Washington, 
 and put himself at the head of the national guard, 
 he will deserve to perish, and his fate will soon be 
 decided."* 
 
 Marie Antoinette. " I will faithfully, Count, carry 
 your message to the King." 
 
 Mirabeau. " Will you, Madam, do me the favor to 
 tell him further, that I have destroyed the paper which 
 I hold in my hand, and that I humbly beg pardon for 
 having asked any pledge to guarantee the sincerity of 
 your Majesty and of the King." Suiting his action 
 to his words, Mirabeau tore into minute pieces and 
 flung away the sheet of paper which had been de 
 livered to him by Marie Antoinette. 
 
 The Queen's face flushed with a deep feeling of 
 gratification, and, looking benignantly at Mirabeau, 
 she said with emotion : " It is nobly done, Count ; it 
 is nobly done. From this day forth, I have the most 
 implicit confidence in your loyalty. Adieu ; may 
 God protect us all ! " And, with a gracious smile, 
 she presented her hand to Mirabeau. He knelt on 
 one knee and kissed it reverentially. When he rose, 
 she had vanished behind a cluster of jessamines and 
 other odoriferous plants. Mirabeau appeared as if 
 transfigured with hope and pride. He looked up to 
 the lowering sky, where glimmered in the West one 
 solitary star, and, shaking aloft his fist with enthusi 
 asm, he exclaimed : " By yonder globe of fire which 
 has witnessed this scene, and by my own good soul, I 
 swear to save her, or die." As he uttered these words, 
 and hurried away in the direction from which he had 
 
 * Dumont's " Recollections of Mirabeau."
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 293 
 
 come, the star had been smothered in a dark cloud 
 which passed over its face. The vault of heaven, 
 without the twinkling of one single ray of light, 
 looked like a funeral pall, and the wind sighed mourn 
 fully through the deserted garden. 
 
 Hardly a minute had elapsed after Mirabeau's de 
 parture, when one of the marble slabs of the pedestal 
 of Laocoon's monument slided inside on silent 
 grooves, and two men came out. One was masked, 
 the other was not, and presented the appearance of 
 a shrivelled-up old man, with a pale and pinched face, 
 and with small, round, dark eyes, sparkling with the 
 most malignant expression of triumph. The man 
 with the mask, pointing in the direction which Mira- 
 beau had taken, said fiercely : " She shall not be 
 saved, and you shall die, Mr. de Mirabeau." 
 
 " Amen ! " ejaculated his companion. " What an 
 excellent idea your Royal Highness had when you 
 bribed that sculptor and obtained of him to erect 
 his monument on this spot, to which leads a secret sub 
 terranean passage only known to few, and to construct 
 this pedestal so as to make it a safe place of conceal 
 ment and observation! Hidden in it, I have fre 
 quently made for you, Monseigneur y important dis 
 coveries, but none to be compared to the one we have 
 procured to-night and so, he shall die ! When ? " 
 
 "As soon as possible," replied his companion. 
 " Have you, my dear Italian chemist, distilled one of 
 those poisons which leave no traces?" 
 
 " Better than that. I have one which produces 
 the effects of a well-known disease, and which there 
 fore will give rise to no suspicion of foul play." 
 
 " Excellent ! It is worth twenty thousand livres, 
 and you shall have them."
 
 294 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 The Italian grinned a horrid smile. Both re- 
 entered the pedestal ; the marble slab noiselessly 
 resumed its place; the monumental serpents above, 
 swelling with wrath and venom, seemed to tighten 
 their folds around their expiring victims, and to lift 
 over them more fearfully their hideous heads, with 
 an expression of living reality. 
 
 On the day following this interview between the 
 Queen and Mirabeau, Aubert Dubayet had been com 
 pelled to leave Paris for Grenoble in Dauphine, where 
 he had been recalled by his private affairs. He was 
 absent only two weeks, but, when he returned, Mira 
 beau was dead, and the whole of France was in 
 mourning. That fatal event had taken place on the 
 2d of April, 1791. The body of the great orator and 
 statesman was opened, and the report of physicians 
 was, that he had died of an abdominal inflammation 
 produced by excesses. His sufferings had been ter 
 rible ; the agony of the convulsions into which he 
 was frequently thrown, was so intense, that he called 
 and prayed for death. He said to his friends : " I will 
 endure these torments as long as you may have the 
 slightest hope of curing me. But, if you have not, 
 why should you not have the humanity to put a term 
 to tortures of which you can have no conception ? " 
 In those rare moments when he was free from the 
 extreme pains which racked his body, his serenity 
 and self-possession were admirable. He believed his 
 end to be at hand and inevitable, and spoke of it 
 calmly. He had affectionate and pleasant things to 
 say to the anxious visitors who crowded his bed 
 room. His intense passion for glory never left him 
 to the last. " I regret," he said, " that I shall not have 
 the opportunity to deliver in the National Assembly
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 295 
 
 a speech which I had prepared on the slave trade. 
 There was a passage in it, which, I think, would have 
 produced an immense effect. It began thus : ' O ye, 
 representatives of a free people, advocates of the 
 rights of man, and apostles of liberty throughout the 
 world, cast your eyes on the almost endless expanse 
 of water which separates America from Africa, and 
 follow with me on the Atlantic that ship loaded 
 with captives, or rather that long black coffin, in 
 which a lingering death has assumed its most hideous 
 form.' " To Tintin Calandro, who could not tear him 
 self away from the death-bed of one whom he con 
 sidered as the only hope of the throne, he whispered : 
 " Tell the Princess de Lamballe, tell the Queen to 
 fly with the King and royal family. Let them lose 
 no time in providing for their safety. The monarchy 
 is dead, and descends with me into the grave." Hav 
 ing fallen asleep, he was awakened by a great tumult 
 in the street. He asked for the cause of it, and was 
 told that the noise came from the immense multitude 
 who had gathered before his house and in its en 
 virons, and who eagerly inquired how he really was. 
 " Tell them," he said, " that I have always lived for 
 the people, and that it is sweet to me to die in their 
 midst and with their sympathies." Minute guns 
 were heard. " What ! " exclaimed he, " have the ob 
 sequies of Achilles already commenced?" When he 
 lost the faculty of speech, he wrote on a scrap of 
 paper : " Do not think, my friends, that the feeling of 
 death is so painful." And, after a little while, he 
 wrote again : " To sleep." This was the last act of 
 Mirabeau's life this, his last word on this side of 
 the grave. Genius, passion, ambition all restless 
 things ! had suddenly gone to sleep forever at least 
 in this world.
 
 296 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 His funeral was a gorgeous pageantry. The whole 
 National Assembly attended it in a body ; there 
 was an immense concourse of national guards and of 
 civilians. The procession was three miles long, and 
 it took four hours to pass at any given point. The 
 entire population of Paris was in the streets, at the 
 windows, and on the tops of houses. Even trees 
 were loaded with human beings. The National As 
 sembly decreed for his body the honors of a tomb in 
 the Pantheon, a building which had been consecrated 
 to the memory of all those citizens who should de 
 serve well of their country. Two years after, it was 
 ignominiously torn away from its sepulchre by the 
 same people, whose idol he had been when living, 
 and who now desecrated the last remnants of the 
 former object of their worship, on their suspecting 
 that, shortly before his death, Mirabeau had deter 
 mined to support the royal cause. O vanity of van 
 ities ! But who will profit by the lessons of history? 
 Who ever remembers, when ascending in triumph to 
 the Capitol, that there is, as Mirabeau himself had said : 
 "but one step from it to the Tarpeian Rock"? Was 
 it Lafayette, that other idol of the people, who fled 
 from his own army to save his life, and surrendered for 
 protection to the Austrians, of whose hospitality he 
 had a taste in the fortress of Olmutz, from which the 
 friend of Washington was so very near being success 
 fully rescued by the courage and perseverance of two 
 Americans, Dr. Eric Bollman, and Francis K. Huger 
 of South Carolina? 
 
 " I envy you the consolation you had in attending 
 our illustrious friend during his last illness," said 
 Aubert Dubayet, the first time he met Talleyrand 
 after Mirabeau's death.
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 297 
 
 " You would have admired," replied Talleyrand, 
 "his consistency. He was true, to the last, to the 
 character which he had always sustained. This is the 
 privilege of strong men. He saw that he was an 
 object of general attention, and he never ceased to 
 speak and to act like a great and noble actor on 
 the national theatre. He superbly dramatized his 
 death. A short time before he died, conquering the 
 intense torture which he suffered, he had his papers 
 brought to him and selected one that contained a 
 speech on testaments. ' This/ he said to me, ' is my 
 last contribution to the labors of the National As 
 sembly. I make you the depository of it. Read it 
 from the tribune in my name, when I shall be no 
 more. It is my legacy to the Assembly. It will be 
 singular to hear a speech on testaments by one who 
 made his own the day before.' 
 
 " What is quite as singular," continued Talleyrand, 
 " is, that to my certain knowledge, be it said between 
 you and me, that speech is the production of one 
 Mr. Raybaz, and not of Mirabeau. It is written in 
 a style which is not his, and it is really very remark 
 able that, even in death, he should have retained his 
 mania to deck himself in borrowed feathers, when he 
 must have had the consciousness of having acquired 
 so much personal glory, and when his reputation was 
 such that he could well have afforded to scorn to en 
 rich himself with the spoils of others. But the world, 
 after all, is nothing but a vast conglomeration of im 
 posture." 
 
 Shortly after, Louis XVI. attempted to fly with his 
 
 family, as advised by Mirabeau, and it is but too well 
 
 known how he was brought back from Varennes, 
 
 where he was arrested. The news of that event was 
 
 13*
 
 298 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 received in the United States with antagonistic feel 
 ings on the part of many. Jefferson thought that 
 the King had been guilty of a breach of faith, and all 
 his innate hatred of royalty was aroused. 
 
 " Such are the fruits of that form of government," 
 he wrote to Dubayet, "which heaps importance on 
 idiots, and which the Tories of the present day are 
 trying to preach into our favor. It would be unfor 
 tunate, were it in the power of any one man to defeat 
 the issue of so beautiful a revolution. I hope and 
 trust that it is not, and that, for the good of suffering 
 humanity all over the earth, the revolution will be 
 established and spread all over the world." * 
 
 Washington was differently impressed. Jefferson 
 was the first to communicate to him that event, whilst 
 he was holding one of his levees, and observed in the 
 same communication to Dubayet : " I never saw him 
 so dejected in my life." Washington himself de 
 clared that he remained for some time in painful sus 
 pense as to what would be the consequences of that 
 event. Ultimately, when the news arrived that the 
 King had accepted the constitution from the hands of 
 the National Assembly, he hailed the event as prom 
 ising happy consequences to France, and to mankind 
 in general ; and what added to his joy was the noble 
 and disinterested part which his friend Lafayette had 
 acted in that great drama. " The prayers and wishes 
 of the human race," he wrote to the Marquis, " have 
 attended the exertions of your nation ; and when 
 your affairs are settled under an energetic and equal 
 government, the hearts of all good men will be sat 
 isfied." 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington."
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 299 
 
 Delighted with such a letter, Lafayette had handed 
 it over to Aubert Dubayet for perusal, who carried it 
 home and who happened to be reading it, when Tal 
 leyrand dropped in. Dubayet took pleasure in com 
 municating it to his distinguished friend, who seemed 
 to enjoy its contents in a very particular manner ; for, 
 taking, with an appearance of luxurious satisfaction, 
 a sort of recumbent position on the sofa on which he 
 had seated himself, and resting his head against the 
 adjacent wall, he closed entirely his habitually half- 
 closed eyes, and indulged, to the intense surprise of 
 Aubert Dubayet, in a short fit of peculiarly dry and 
 cynical cachinnation a rare circumstance in such a 
 man. Mephistopheles could not have laughed other 
 wise. " What is in that letter which can provoke this 
 hilarity ? " inquired Dubayet. 
 
 " I beg to be excused, my good friend," replied 
 Talleyrand, resuming that composed and imperturba 
 ble face for which, among other things, he became 
 famous, " but, in the secret history of men, there is 
 sometimes between appearances and realities some 
 thing exceedingly ludicrous. Now, listen. This is 
 strictly between you and me. I have been lately 
 ransacking the archives of the State Department, and 
 here is an extract which I have made of a letter ad 
 dressed by our friend Lafayette, on the i8th of July, 
 1779, from Havre, to Mr. de Vergennes. 'The idea/ 
 he says to that minister, ' of a revolution in Canada 
 seems very attractive to every good Frenchman, and 
 should political reasons condemn it, you will confess, 
 Monsieur le comte, we can yield to them only by re 
 sisting the first impulses of the heart. The advan 
 tages and disadvantages of such a scheme would de 
 mand a larger discussion than I can enter into. Is it
 
 300 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 better to leave to the Americans an object of fear and 
 jealousy in the vicinage of an English colony, or shall 
 we set free our oppressed brethren, in order to find 
 again and at the same time among them, our ancient 
 supply of furs, our former trade with the Indians, and 
 all the profits of our original settlements, without ex 
 posing ourselves as of yore to expenses and depreda 
 tions? Shall we put in the scales of the New World 
 a fourteenth State which will be always attached to 
 France, and which, by its situation, would secure to 
 us a great preponderance in the dissensions that will 
 one day divide America? There is a great variety of 
 sentiment on this subject.' 
 
 " Now," said Talleyrand, rising and smiling a sar 
 donic smile, " methinks that the partisans of America 
 were not exactly as thoroughly Americanized as they 
 wished to appear, and not as friendly inwardly as they 
 were outwardly, and that Washington, if he knew 
 what conflict of opinions existed at the time among 
 his allies, as to which thorn it would have been most 
 to the interest of France to plant in the side of his 
 projected republic, might allow his gratitude to cool 
 down to a lower degree of temperature, and not take 
 so deep an interest in our great drama, and in the es 
 tablishment here of an ' energetic and equal govern 
 ment,' which he might in the end not find as pleasant 
 to deal with and as ' satisfactory ' as he expects. But 
 he shall not know it," and deliberately folding the 
 sheet of paper which he held in his hand, he put it in 
 his side-pocket, and, after buttoning his coat over it, 
 he bowed to Dubayet, and glided out of the room, 
 saying : "Au prochain revoir, mon cker" 
 
 This incident added a darker shade to the habitual 
 gloom of Dubayet's mind. He knew that Washing-
 
 A UBER T D USA YE T. 30 1 
 
 ton, who entertained such fervent hopes of the new 
 government of France, was somewhat weary of the 
 one he had established at home. There were irrecon 
 cilable and angry discussions in his Cabinet ; some of 
 its members threatened to resign ; symptoms of dis 
 satisfaction had lately shown themselves among the 
 people, far beyond what he would have expected ; and 
 to what height those might arise, in case of too great 
 a change in the administration, could not be foreseen. 
 Jefferson, who never allowed the opportunity to es 
 cape, when he had a chance, to fling a stone at his 
 great rival, Alexander Hamilton, maintained that 
 those discontents were produced by the administra 
 tion of the treasury department. "A system has 
 been contrived," he said, " for deluging the States 
 with paper money instead of gold and silver, for with 
 drawing our citizens from the pursuits of commerce, 
 manufactures, buildings, and other branches of useful 
 industry, to occupy themselves and their capitals in a 
 species of gambling destructive of morality, and 
 which has introduced its poison into the Government 
 itself." 
 
 Aubert Dubayet, to whom these remarks had been 
 addressed, communicated them to Gouverneur Morris, 
 who observed: "Jefferson, in his fits of jealousy or 
 spleen, may say what he pleases ; but he has, not 
 withstanding, a keen appreciation of the sterling 
 merit of Hamilton, for he once said to me : ' Hamil 
 ton is a man of acute understanding, disinterested, 
 honest, and honorable in all private transactions ; 
 amiable in society and duly valuing virtue in private 
 life ; yet so bewitched and perverted by the British 
 example, as to be under thorough conviction that
 
 3Q2 4 UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 corruption is essential to the government of a na 
 tion.' " * 
 
 "This puts me in mind," replied Dubayet, "of a 
 conversation which I heard, when in America, at Jef 
 ferson's own table, between Hamilton and Adams, 
 after the cloth was removed. Conversation had be 
 gun on other matters, and, by some circumstance, 
 led to the British constitution, on which Adams ob 
 served: 'Purge that constitution of its corruption, 
 and give to its popular branch equality of representa 
 tion, and it would be the most perfect constitution 
 ever devised by the wit of man.' Hamilton paused, 
 and said : ' Purge it of its corruption, and give to its 
 popular branch equality of representation, and it 
 would become an impracticable government ; as it 
 stands at present, with all its supposed defects, it is 
 the most perfect government which ever existed.' " f 
 
 * Jefferson's Anas. t Jefferson's Works, vol. ix., p. 96;
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE JACOBIN CLUB MARAT AND CATHELINEAU 
 THE SANS CULOTTE AND THE VENDEAN JEF 
 FERSON'S LETTER HELPING MARAT. 
 
 THE National Assembly, having been dissolved, was 
 succeeded by what was called the Legislative Assem 
 bly. Aubert Dubayet was elected to that body, and 
 took an active part in its deliberations. One day, 
 when his friend, Gouverneur Morris, was compliment 
 ing him on the wise and moderate course which he 
 pursued in the Assembly, and particularly on his 
 vigorous and able defense of General Lafayette, who 
 had been violently attacked by the lovers of anarchy, 
 he replied: 
 
 " I am passionately attached to France and to lib 
 erty, and I will do all that may be in my power to 
 secure the glory and prosperity of the former, and 
 the permanency of the latter. I believe, however, 
 with Mirabeau, that the monarchy is dead, and that 
 a republic will, ere long, be inaugurated. I have 
 great doubts as to the possibility of maintaining such 
 a form of government here. But I think that the 
 experiment must be tried. It will be a curious spec 
 tacle to watch the progress of those twin sisters the 
 American and French republics. If they both fail, 
 the human mind will no longer pursue what will be 
 considered a political chimera self-government. It 
 
 (303)
 
 304 A USER T D USA YE T. 
 
 will be a point settled ; and the next wisest step to 
 be taken, I suppose, will be to resort to constitutional 
 monarchies, as a pis-aller as the least evil." 
 
 "If a public debt, as Jefferson maintains, is incom 
 patible with a republic," answered Gouverneur Mor 
 ris, " then your future French republic is threatened 
 with speedy dissolution ; for your indebtedness is en 
 larging its proportions with mushrcom growth. Take 
 these American journals which I have just received, 
 and you will see Jefferson's views on affairs on the 
 other side of the Atlantic." 
 
 Aubert Dubayet, when he went home, perused 
 those papers with great interest, and saw with what 
 vigor Jefferson was launching out against the public 
 debt in America, and against all the evils which he 
 apprehended from the funding system, " the ultimate 
 object of which was," said he, " to prepare the way 
 for a change from the present republican form of gov 
 ernment to that of a monarchy, of which the English 
 constitution is to be the model." He concluded by 
 pronouncing the continuance of Washington at the 
 head of the Government, to be of the last impor 
 tance. " The confidence of the whole Union," he 
 wrote to the President, " is centred in you. Your be 
 ing at the helm will be more than an answer to every 
 argument which can be used to alarm and lead the 
 people in any quarter into violence, or secession. 
 North and South will hang together, if they have you 
 to hang on." * 
 
 Thus it became evident to Dubayet that the Union 
 was far from being considered as firmly established, 
 even in the opinion of its founders. What ! said he 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 115, vol. v.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 305 
 
 to himself, if Washington were to disappear, " the 
 North and the South would not hang together ! " 
 There would be " secession " ! Of what value are in 
 stitutions which depend on the life of a man ? If the 
 American republic is not safely constructed, can we 
 hope to raise such an edifice on the volcanic soil of 
 France ? His mind became filled with gloomy appre 
 hensions. He resolved, however, not to waver in 
 what he considered his path of duty, and he went on 
 working with patience, dignity, and good intentions. 
 He rose to so much personal consideration in the As 
 sembly that he was elected their president, and occu 
 pied that position for two weeks. But he soon dis 
 covered that, as a conservative, he was in the minor 
 ity in all his political views and opinions, and he re 
 joiced when the Assembly was dissolved. He deter 
 mined not to incur the responsibilities of being a 
 member in any other; and to escape from a forced 
 participation in the excesses which he foresaw, he re- 
 entered the army ; for war had been declared ; and 
 from the grade of captain he soon ascended to be gen 
 eral of brigade. He was complimented on his promo 
 tion by Jefferson, who professed great esteem for him, 
 and who wrote to him in relation to American affairs: 
 "A sect has shown itself among us, who declare 
 they espoused our constitution, not as a good and 
 sufficient thing in itself, but only as a step to an En 
 glish constitution, the only thing good and sufficient 
 in itself, in their eyes. It is happy for us that these 
 are preachers without followers, and that our people 
 are firm and constant in their republican purity. You 
 will wonder to be told that it is from the eastward, 
 chiefly, that these champions for a King, Lords, and 
 Commons come. They get some important associates
 
 306 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 from New York, and are puffed up by a tribe of agio- 
 tcurs which have been hatched in a bed of corruption, 
 made up after the model of their beloved England. 
 Too many of these stock-jobbers and king-jobbers 
 have come into our legislature, or rather, too many of 
 our legislature have become stock-jobbers and king- 
 jobbers. However, the voice of the people is begin 
 ning to make itself heard, and will probably cleanse 
 their seats at the next election." * 
 
 With deep concern Aubert Dubayet saw the ran. 
 corous bitterness with which Jefferson expressed him 
 self on Hamilton, when speaking of his own probable 
 retirement from Washington's Cabinet. 
 
 " To a thorough disregard," he said, " of the honors 
 and emoluments of office I join as great a value for 
 the esteem of my countrymen ; and conscious of hav 
 ing merited it by an integrity which can not be re 
 proached, and by an enthusiastic devotion to their 
 rights and liberty, I will not suffer my retirement to 
 be clouded by the slanders of a man, whose history, 
 from the moment at which history can stoop to notice 
 him, is a tissue of machinations against the liberty of 
 the country which has not only received and given 
 him bread, but heaped its honors on his head."f 
 
 Jefferson was also much excited against Gouverneur 
 Morris ; he complained that the American minister 
 falsely represented France as governed by Jacobin 
 clubs, and Lafayette as having completely lost his 
 authority by endeavoring to check their excesses. 
 " He writes to the President," said Jefferson, "that 
 were Lafayette, who is at the head of an army on the 
 
 * Jefferson's Works, vol. iii., p. 450. 
 
 t Irving' s " Life of Washington," vol. v., p. 130.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 307 
 
 frontier and facing the enemy, to appear just now in 
 Paris, unattended by that army, he would be torn to 
 pieces. I am impatient of these gloomy picturings, 
 especially when I see their effect on the mind of 
 Washington, who is exceedingly anxious about the 
 fate of his friend and the condition of France. The 
 fact is, that Gouverneur Morris, a high-flying mon 
 archy man, shutting his eyes and his faith to every 
 fact against his wishes, and believing everything he 
 desires to be true, has kept the President's mind con 
 stantly poisoned with his forebodings." 
 
 Morris, however, was not so very far from the truth 
 in his prognostications. Revolutions are swift-footed, 
 and do not feed with milk those who seek food from 
 their breast. Revolutions secrete blood, and nothing 
 else. Hardly had Jefferson penned the lines above 
 quoted, when, on the Qth of August, 1792, Paris was 
 startled by the sound of the tocsin at midnight. On 
 the next morning, the populace, yelling like demons, 
 rushed pell-mell into the palace of the Tuileries, after 
 having massacred the few Swiss guards who defended 
 the hereditary abode of royalty. The King and Queen 
 had barely time to escape and to fly to the Assembly 
 of the representatives of the people for protection. 
 That protection exhibited itself in the shape of a de 
 cree suspending the King's authority. This meant 
 his dethronement, the annihilation of the constitu 
 tional party, and the commencement of the reign of 
 terror. Lafayette was a constitutionalist, and, there 
 fore, was proscribed. In the name of liberty, universal 
 fraternity, and philanthropy, the Jacobins denounced 
 him in the Assembly. He had the original sin of be 
 ing born a Marquis, and, of course, every Marquis was 
 bound to be a traitor to the people. His arrest was
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 decreed, and emissaries were sent to carry the decree 
 into effect. The first impulse of Lafayette was to 
 seize these Jacobin envoys, or sans culottes, as they 
 began to be called, and march on Paris to face his 
 accusers. He soon discovered, however, that his army 
 was disposed to fraternize with the sans culottes, or 
 patriots without breeches, and he fled with a few 
 trusty friends, intending to seek an asylum in Hol 
 land, or the United States. But he was detained a 
 prisoner at the first Austrian post, and subsequently 
 domiciliated in a fortress to reflect on the inconstancy 
 of human affairs, as already related. 
 
 " Thus his circle is completed," wrote Morris. " He 
 has spent his fortune on a revolution, and is now 
 crushed by the wheel which he has set in motion. He 
 lasted longer than I expected." It is hardly neces 
 sary to mention that Washington looked with a sad 
 eye on this catastrophe. 
 
 Gouverneur Morris probably took a malicious pleas 
 ure in writing to Jefferson : " The reign of terror con 
 tinues. We have had one week of unchecked mur 
 ders, in which some thousands have perished in this 
 city. It began with between two and three hundred 
 of the clergy, who had been shot because they would 
 not take the oaths prescribed by the law, and which, 
 they said, were contrary to their conscience. From 
 the streets, the executors of speedy justice, as they called 
 themselves, went to \.\\eAbbaye, where persons of noble 
 birth were confined. These were dispatched also, and 
 afterward, these judges visited the other prisons ; 
 and all those who were confined, either on the accu 
 sation or suspicion of crimes, were destroyed." * 
 
 * Morris to Jefferson, September 10, 1792.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 309 
 
 Jefferson was stung to the quick by this letter, 
 which he looked upon as casting a slur on the Jaco 
 bins, to whom he was much attached, and whom he 
 considered as pure as any of the Roman patriots of 
 old. Thinking that justice was not done to them, he, 
 probably in a fit of indignation, wrote to Mr. Short,'* 
 an attache to the American legation in Paris, a letter 
 which was purloined by an unfaithful valet, a Jacobin 
 himself. This letter was used in a manner which Jef 
 ferson did not anticipate, and which would have as 
 tounded him. 
 
 Dogs that have tasted blood want more of it. The 
 Jacobins were wolves ; and wolves, when they have 
 lapped that liquid, are more greedy for it than dogs. 
 Hence, one evening, in one of the suburbs of Paris, a 
 large crowd of patriots had met in an immense cellar, 
 a sort of cavern, dimly lighted, and ornamented with 
 red flags and other decorations appropriately devised 
 for the occasion. But all those things, remarkable 
 and impressive as they were, could hardly be noticed, 
 when there were such faces, to absorb all attention, 
 as those of the human beings who composed the as 
 sembly. Their photographs would have commanded 
 a high price in the fancy shops, duly licensed, of his 
 Satanic Majesty's kingdom. Barrere de Vieuzac pre 
 sided over the meeting, and, on taking his seat, 
 stated in his mellifluous voice and in his peculiar 
 phraseology : " that the tree of liberty, recently 
 planted, was withering ; that its roots needed more 
 irrigation ; and that its head expected a refreshing 
 fall of heavenly dew." What that dew was, every 
 one present understood. Hence the sentiment was 
 
 * Jefferson's Works, vol. iii., p. 501.
 
 310 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 vociferously applauded. Then the assembly took 
 up the famous song of the epoch, $a ira, $a ira, les 
 aristocratcs d la lanterne* 
 
 " It will be a mercy to them," shouted a shirtless 
 and half-inebriated wit ; " but they are so hopelessly 
 blind that they will not see any better for it." 
 
 This sally was a success, and Pandemonium yelled 
 with delight. At that moment there appeared a per 
 sonage who was greeted with a deafening demonstra 
 tion of enthusiasm. He was a deformed dwarf, with a 
 monstrously large head and hideous features, decayed 
 teeth, and a coarse mouth extending almost from ear 
 to ear. His dress seemed to be affectedly dirty and 
 seedy. His name was Jean Paul Marat, a Swiss by birth 
 and a physician by profession. Starving in his coun 
 try, he had come to France in search of bread, and 
 had established himself as an empiric and a strolling 
 quack, who sold medicinal herbs, and a panacea which 
 cured all diseases. Notwithstanding the possession 
 of that miraculous nostrum, he had continued to re 
 main in the most abject destitution. To emerge from 
 it, he had imagined to become an author. His first 
 production was the translation of an English publica 
 tion, of very slender merit, entitled " The Chains of 
 Slavery." Having failed to coin the " Chains of 
 Slavery " into money, he launched out a more aspir 
 ing and voluminous work with this title : " Man, 
 Principles and Laws which Govern Him ; Influence 
 of the Soul on the Body, and of the Body on the 
 Soul." It seems, therefore, that Marat believed, or 
 pretended to believe, in the soul. He had also given 
 to the press several other compositions on anatomy, 
 
 *The aristocrats to the lamp-post.
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 3! I 
 
 optics, and electricity. Notwithstanding all these at 
 tempted displays of learning, Marat had remained 
 obscure and miserably poor, and had ended in gladly 
 accepting the humble situation of horse doctor in the 
 stables of the Count of Artois, a brother of the King. 
 He was performing these functions when the revolu 
 tion broke out. In a storm which convulsed society 
 to its foundations, and brought its dregs to the sur 
 face, Marat could not but become prominent. He 
 immediately established a journal called The Friend 
 of the People, in which he daily advocated, openly or 
 impliedly, the commission of every one of the crimes 
 prohibited by the decalogue. It very naturally fol 
 lowed that he acquired an immense popularity. His 
 paper was read with avidity, and approvingly com 
 mented on with delirious violence in all the sinks of 
 the capital. The horse doctor, the quack who cured 
 with his Swiss balsam all the ills that flesh is heir to, 
 obtained the honor of being elected a representative 
 of Paris in the National Convention. 
 
 As soon as the plaudits which had greeted his en 
 trance into the Jacobin Club had ceased, Marat as 
 cended a sort of platform, or tribune, that stood in 
 front of the president, a little lower than his seat, and 
 said with his harsh, croaking, discordant voice : 
 
 " Citizens, the country is still in danger, but be not 
 alarmed ; I am on the watch tower. The country re 
 quires new doses of the most powerful drastics, and 
 copious bleedings, to recover robust health and per 
 petuate the duration of its liberties and franchises. 
 We must continue with steadiness the wholesome 
 medical treatment which we have begun to admin 
 ister. The jails of Paris are now vacant, in conse 
 quence of the purging which we recently gave them.
 
 312 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 We must fill them again, and again make them vacant. 
 But this will not be enough. We must do the same 
 in all the provinces. All the prisons in France are 
 gorged ; it is a dangerous plethora. They must be 
 relieved from it, and be made to vomit into the grave 
 the indigestible food with which their maws are loaded. 
 I have calculated with minute exactness the quantity 
 of blood required for the safety of the people. The 
 head of the King must fall, and with it the heads of 
 three hundred thousand aristocrats and traitors." 
 
 Marat continued in this strain, becoming more and 
 more extravagantly atrocious in his insane ravings, 
 which were accompanied with epileptic gesticulations, 
 until the very excess of his ferocity produced a re 
 action in the assembly, thoroughly steeped in cruelty 
 and all alive with evil passions as it was. Reprobat 
 ing cries of " Oh ! oh ! that is going too far. You will 
 make the very name of Jacobin a word of shame and 
 horror ! " were heard in different parts of the vast dingy 
 room. The orator paused in astonishment at this 
 manifestation of unexpected and unusual disapproba 
 tion. But he was not put out of countenance. 
 
 "What is this? What do you mean?" he exclaim 
 ed with unabashed assurance. " Have you become 
 chicken-hearted? Jacobins, you need not be ashamed 
 of what you have done ; go on, and do not lose your 
 well-earned reputation for stern and honest patriotism. 
 I will demonstrate to you that the course which we 
 have pursued, and which I wish you still to pursue, 
 is approved by the very highest authority on earth. 
 Is not the republic of America our model? Can we 
 have better guides than those sages who established 
 it for the benefit and example of mankind ? You all 
 venerate the name of Jefferson, now a member of the
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 313 
 
 Cabinet of General Washington. You know how he 
 encouraged us in all our plans, when he was here. I 
 have in my pocket a letter addressed by him to a 
 friend in Paris. Listen to what he writes. He begins 
 with saying that he does not find fault with our ac 
 quiescing for a time in the experiment of retaining a 
 hereditary executive, but that, as we have ascertained 
 that it would ensure the re-establishment of despot 
 ism, he considers it absolutely indispensable to ex 
 punge that office. Thus he and I agree in the prem 
 ises, as you see. What is the sequel ? I quote his 
 very words. Open your ears, you, my friends, who 
 think proper to make asses of yourselves, this even 
 ing, and who presume to think that I go too far." 
 
 Wiping his perspiring forehead with a coarse and 
 filthy-looking rag which he used as a handkerchief, 
 Marat went on : 
 
 " Thus citizen Jefferson expresses himself: 'In the 
 struggle which was necessary, many guilty persons fell 
 without the forms of trial, and with them, some inno 
 cent' I deny, of course, the latter part of the asser 
 tion. ' These I deplore,' he says, 'as much as anybody, 
 and some of them I shall deplore to the day of my death. 
 But I deplore them, as I should have done, had they 
 fallen in battle' Admirable ! The great patriot is 
 tender-hearted ; and, at the same time, firm as a rock 
 and unswerving as fate. ' // was necessary to use the 
 arm of the people, a machine not quite as blind as balls 
 and bombs, but blind to a certain degree. A few of 
 their cordial friends met at their hands the fate of ene 
 mies. But time and truth will rescue and embalm their 
 memories, while their posterity will be enjoying the -very 
 liberty for which they never would have hesitated to 
 offer up their lives. The liberty of the whole earth was 
 14
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 depending on the issue of tJic contest ; and was ci'er suck 
 a prize won ivith so little innocent blood?' Now, Jaco 
 bins, what do you say to that? What our enemies 
 call murders and butcheries, Jefferson calls ' a necessary 
 struggle.' Our breaking into all the prisons of Paris 
 and killing in them thousands of men, women, and 
 children, he considers to be 'a battle in a good cause.' 
 He says that we were right in assuming that many 
 were guilty, and in destroying them without any forms 
 of preparatory trial to ascertain the fact. I agree with 
 him in this, but I disagree when he asserts that you 
 massacred some of your ' cordial ' friends j and approves 
 of it. You never did so, and I would never sanction 
 the perpetration of such an act. A cause which re 
 quires for its success the assassination of cordial 
 friends, is bad and must be abandoned. I am not 
 afraid of being disavowed by you, citizens, when I 
 proclaim that the people shall be without mercy for 
 their enemies ; but, at the same time, shall always 
 consider their friends as sacred objects, and shall 
 never have the cowardly selfishness to sacrifice any 
 one of them to any of the exigencies of the time." 
 Great applause. 
 
 After a pause, during which he surveyed the assem 
 bly with a gratified look, Marat thus resumed his dis 
 course : 
 
 " You will observe, Jacobins, that Jefferson says 
 that there never was such a prize won with so little in 
 nocent blood. 'Little blood ! ' Do you hear? Hence 
 am I not justified in asking for more, to confirm us in 
 the possession of that prize ! But I deny that there 
 was innocent blood shed. I would not approve of it, 
 as he does. It was guilty blood ; and it is a larger 
 quantity of that guilty blood, which I desire at your
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 3x5 
 
 hands, to secure that liberty, equality, and fraternity 
 which it is our mission to spread over the whole earth. 
 Should one of you here be disposed to think that 
 enough of it has been spilt, I now call his special at 
 tention to this last paragraph of Jefferson's letter: 
 ' My own affections have been deeply wounded by 
 some of the martyrs to this cause, but rather than it 
 should have failed, I would have seen half the earth 
 desolated ; were there but an Adam and Eve left in 
 every country, and left free, it would be better than 
 as it now is.' * Well, citizens, that beats me, you 
 must admit. I am overwhelmed with the grandeur 
 and heroism of a sentiment for which I can not have 
 too much admiration, but I dare not go so far. I 
 only insist on having three hundred thousand heads." 
 In one of the corners of the room, in the back 
 ground, and unnoticed by anybody, sat a youth, who 
 had been an attentive observer and listener. He rose, 
 and walked deliberately to an open space running 
 from the entrance door to the seat of the president, 
 and serving as a passage for the members of the club 
 and for the public, as they came in and took their 
 seats on the right and left. There he stopped, draw 
 ing himself up to his full height, which measured 
 about six feet, and exhibiting as fine a specimen of 
 humanity as the eye loves to rest upon. He was 
 pale, not from fear, but from the intensity of some 
 feeling which he had evidently determined to keep 
 under control, if possible. Surely there was, there 
 could be, no fear in the breast of that man. His 
 flashing eyes would have forbidden such a supposi 
 tion ; they were those of a hero. There was in his 
 
 * Letter to Mr. Short. Jefferson's Works, vol. iii., p. 501.
 
 3 16 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 manner and look something so expressive, that he 
 riveted at once the attention of the whole assembly. 
 All turned toward him, and the silence was profound. 
 It is astonishing what rapidity of intuition there is, 
 sometimes, in a crowd of men ! Every one present 
 felt at once and sympathetically, that something 
 striking and unexpected was to take place. 
 
 " Mr. President," said the unknown, with a voice 
 which sounded like the bold and stirring blast of a 
 clarion, " I am from Brittany. The son of an honest 
 peasant, I disregarded his remonstrances and the en 
 treaties of a pious mother, in a moment of folly, to 
 come to Paris, and witness the wonders which the na 
 tion hoped for, under the new order of things that 
 was to be established. Thanks to the priest of my 
 village, I have received some education, and I have 
 delighted to read with him the history of the heroic 
 days of antiquity. I loved to dream of the republics 
 of Rome and Greece, and I had come to the capital 
 to participate in the inauguration of one superior to 
 those of past and pagan ages, because born in the 
 bosom of Christianity. But I have heard and secii 
 enough. The cries of your victims have appalled my 
 ears, and I shall never forget the streams of blood 
 which I have beheld. My illusions are gone. I look 
 with horror on the infidel and heartless republicanism 
 of America and France, as typified by Jefferson and 
 Marat. What will become of America with such 
 sentiments and principles as are professed by leaders 
 of that stamp, I do not know, and care not. I know, 
 however, but too well, what you will make of France. 
 I curse the day when I called myself a republican. 
 Brigands, I will never associate with you any more. 
 I am a royalist now, from head to foot, body and soul
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 3:7 
 
 Long live the King ! I am off for La Vendee. My 
 name is Cathelineau, and, God helping, I hope, ere 
 long, to make it ring in your ears." 
 
 He rushed out of the room and disappeared, be 
 fore the assembly, taken by surprise, had recovered 
 from the stupor of amazement into which they had 
 been thrown by so bold a speech.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 CHARLOTTE CORDAY ASSASSINATION OF MARAT. 
 
 ON the next day after this nocturnal assembly of 
 the Jacobins, Marat, relying on the importance which 
 he derived from his being one of the representatives 
 of Paris in the National Convention, appeared in the 
 midst of that body, followed by a band of patriotic ban 
 dits and liberty-loving cut-throats, who tumultuously 
 occupied the galleries and lobbies and all the other 
 places reserved for the public. Tormented by his in 
 satiable thirst for blood, that insane monster ascended 
 the tribune, and with the gesticulations and rage of a 
 maniac denounced that part of the assembly called 
 the Girondists, which was composed of the 61ite of its 
 members. "The aristocrats," he shouted, "say that 
 those precious colleagues of ours are the only states 
 men of whom this assembly can boast, and that the 
 rest of us are braying jackasses, or hungry tigers. 
 Ha ! ha ! Is it so ? Well, / call those men traitors. 
 They are a dangerous faction of conspirators against 
 the liberties of the people. I ask for the heads of 
 that faction of pretended statesmen. I also ask you 
 to decree the massacre of two hundred and seventy 
 thousand partisans of the old regime I have counted 
 them the sum total is correct and I further ask 
 you to reduce to one-fourth the members of this Na 
 tional Convention, which, after this epuration, will be 
 (318)
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 319 
 
 composed only of the well-tried and well-known 
 friends of the people, such, for instance, as Danton, 
 St. Just, Robespierre, and myself. I ask that one 
 hundred thousand of the relatives of the emigres I 
 can not spare a single one of them it makes a round 
 number be imprisoned as guaranties for the conduct 
 of those rebels who have fled to foreign territories." 
 
 "And /ask in my turn," exclaimed the impetuous 
 Barbaroux, rising in his seat and interrupting the 
 orator Barbaroux, one of the deputies of Marseilles, 
 who, by his eloquence, his real enthusiasm for liberty, 
 and the wonderful beauty of his person, was one of 
 the most conspicuous among the Girondists " I ask 
 in the name of common sense, in the name of the 
 outraged rights of humanity, in the name of justice, 
 dignity, and respect for ourselves, that this disgusting 
 foreigner be kicked out of this hall of our delibera 
 tions which he pollutes by his presence ; that he be 
 whipped by the hangman, and then confined in a 
 lunatic asylum, or rather in some house of correction, 
 for there is more malignity in him than madness." 
 There followed an indescribable scene of confusion 
 that brought on a death struggle between the different 
 parties dividing the Convention which struggle, after 
 days of the fiercest contention, ended in the destruc 
 tion of the Girondists. They were all outlawed ; some 
 were arrested and incarcerated ; others, among whom 
 was Barbaroux, fled from Paris to the provinces. 
 This was Marat's last triumph ; his mission was at an 
 end. Providence has marvelous ways of her own to 
 get rid of those agents of evil who, for a little while, 
 are permitted to run their unchecked course through 
 the apparent chaos of human affairs. 
 
 There lived at that epoch, near the village of St.
 
 320 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Saturnin, in Normandy, a young woman of noble 
 birth. Her name was Marie Anne Charlotte Corday 
 D'Armans. Damsels of her rank, in those days, were 
 generally educated in convents. She had been no 
 exception to that almost universal rule. But, at the 
 age of fifteen, she became, on the death of her par 
 ents, the ward of an uncle, a Knight of Malta, who 
 had retired from active service in consequence of his 
 numerous wounds, and of those infirmities which an 
 nounce the approach of the winter of life. Louis 
 Corday D'Armans, having installed himself in the 
 feudal manor of his niece with a maiden sister, only 
 two years younger than himself, determined, after due 
 consultation with that venerable spinster, to assume 
 the responsibility of giving a home education to 
 Charlotte, and withdrew her from the religious insti 
 tution where she had already been several years. 
 The old uncle and aunt thought that the monotony 
 of the solitude in which they lived, would be much 
 relieved by the companionship of their young niece. 
 The aunt would take care to initiate her into the mys 
 teries of housekeeping, and the uncle would while 
 away many of the hours that hung heavy on his 
 hands, by teaching his ward to love those classic 
 works of antiquity which he himself idolized. Thus 
 the fate of Charlotte was fixed. She was taken away 
 from the convent, and an important historical event 
 was the consequence of her guardian's somewhat self 
 ish resolution. 
 
 Louis Corday D'Armans, Count of Seez, and Knight 
 of Malta, although a military man and a man of the 
 world, was a scholar of considerable attainments, and 
 one of those free-thinkers who had been the fashion 
 since the beginning of the eighteenth century. It
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 321 
 
 was not strange, therefore, that he should be one of 
 those nobles who thought that monarchies were the 
 effete things of the past, and that the regeneration of 
 mankind required a fraternity of nations and a uni 
 versal system of republics all over the world. He 
 was a fanatical admirer of antiquity, and would have 
 wished to substitute the institutions of Athens and 
 Rome for those which had prevailed so long in his 
 own native country, although it certainly would have 
 puzzled him, if he had been called upon to reconcile 
 the democracy of Attica with the aristocracy that 
 had built the imperial city on the banks of the Tiber. 
 His ideas were rather nebulous on the subject, but 
 he had no doubt that, under a proper and skillful 
 manipulation, his Gallic countrymen could be turned 
 into a glorious compound of the Greek and Roman, 
 that would astonish the world by the exhibition of 
 a material and intellectual progress hitherto unknown 
 to the human race. He had traveled and resided a 
 long while in Italy and Greece, and cherished for the 
 memory of what they were in the past, a feeling 
 which amounted to almost a sort of religious worship. 
 He had brought home from those classic lands a 
 large collection of curiosities, objects of art, engrav 
 ings and paintings which reproduced with exquisite 
 accuracy the monuments and picturesque scenery of 
 those favored regions. There was not a Greek or 
 Latin author whose productions were not to be found 
 in his library. He had become passionately attached 
 to his niece, to whom he had succeeded in communi 
 cating all his tastes. In that hall on whose walls 
 were sculptured the armorial bearings of feudal 
 barons, and wherein had feasted a long line of Nor 
 man knights, there were to be seen no other statues
 
 3 22 -4 UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 or busts than those of the heroes of Plutarch ; and 
 the battles of ancient Greece were more frequently 
 alluded to than those which had been fought by all 
 the chivalry of Europe. 
 
 Wrapped in studies which grew upon them with 
 delightful fascination, the Count and his niece lived 
 in utter seclusion and in an ideal world of their own. 
 Apart from a few and rare visits from neighbors, to 
 which they rather submitted with courteous resigna 
 tion, than assented with any degree of complacency, 
 they had no other diversion they liked than that of 
 the chase. With a view of strengthening the consti 
 tution of his pupil, the Count had insisted on her ac 
 companying him when he hunted, not only the timid 
 deer, but even the wild boar and the ferocious wolf. 
 He had achieved his purpose ; for the glow of health 
 was on the cheeks of his lovely kinswoman, and the 
 vigor of manhood was harmoniously blended with 
 the delicacy and softness of her sex. She could swim 
 like one of the water-nymphs of ancient mythology, 
 and the Gods themselves would have admired the 
 skill, grace, and activity with which she engaged in 
 the favorite pursuit of the chaste Diana. She had 
 become a bold rider, and self-reliant even in the pres 
 ence of danger, although she retained all her feminine 
 attractions, which were made still more attractive by 
 her look of exquisite modesty, by the natural ele 
 gance of her figure, and by the perfect symmetry of 
 such features as those we find chiselled on antique 
 cameos by the hand of a master. Under the guid 
 ance of her uncle, this wonderful young woman, gift 
 ed with a soul to which all that was pure, elevated, 
 and sublime was congenial, had so identified herself 
 with the poetry, the history, the philosophy, the
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 323 
 
 manners, usages, religion, and feelings of Greece and 
 Rome, that she was more of a Grecian or a Roman 
 than a Frenchwoman. She was a self-consecrated 
 vestal in the temple of antiquity, keeping up in all 
 its brightness the sacred fire which was the object of 
 her worship. 
 
 When the French revolution broke out, both the 
 uncle and the niece followed with intense interest all 
 the phases of that momentous event. They had read 
 with enthusiasm the declaration of the rights of man, 
 and had looked on Mirabeau as the Demosthenes of 
 France. All their dreams were now, at length, to be 
 realized, and the virtues of the best days of Greece 
 and Rome were to be revived on the fruitful soil of 
 those heroic Gauls who had so long deserved to be 
 free, and to be purified from those prejudices which, 
 during so many centuries, had clouded their intellect 
 and riveted the chains that encumbered their limbs. 
 
 The title of King which Louis and Charlotte Cor- 
 day hated as deeply as the Romans had ever done, 
 had just been abolished, when the Knight of Malta 
 died of a severe cold caught in hunting ; and his 
 highly imaginative and classically-educated niece, who 
 felt with acute sorrow the loss of her kind guardian, 
 was left to the sole and uncongenial companionship 
 of her aunt, whose mind was exclusively engrossed 
 by household cares. The aged dame took no interest 
 in the history of the past, and very little in that of 
 the present. She was a woman of few words. When 
 occasionally the prospect of the adoption of repub 
 lican institutions was forced upon her attention, she 
 would say with an ominous shake of the head : " I 
 do not see how what is not good for a family, can be 
 good for a nation. There must be but one ruler in
 
 3 24 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 every house. If you suppress the head cook in the 
 kitchen, the scullions will quarrel, and the broth will 
 be spoiled. What is everybody's business, is no 
 body's." The utterance of these wise saws was all 
 that could be extracted from her on that subject. It 
 is at least doubtful whether her theory of government 
 was not as correct as any other. The fact is, that she 
 daily carried it into effective practice, for she never 
 allowed any one to interfere with her management of 
 her niece's establishment, from the garret to the cel 
 lar. It was as beautiful a specimen of autocratic ad 
 ministration as could be desired, and it was quietly 
 acquiesced in by the person who alone had the right 
 to dispute her authority. 
 
 At dawn, one day, not long after the death of Louis 
 Corday D'Armans, Count of S6ez, there stood a 
 young woman on the brow of a hill which rose almost 
 to the dignity of a mountain, about three miles from 
 the village of St. Saturnin. It was Charlotte Corday. 
 In one hand she held a riding-whip, and in the other 
 a book that wonderful book in which still lives the 
 Republic of Plato the Utopia of genius, wherein 
 dimly shone the half-luminous shadow of the coming 
 light of Christianity. She wore on her head the tra 
 ditional bonnet of Normandy, white as snow, with 
 flaps hanging down on either side of her cheeks to 
 her neck. This helmet of lace was so adjusted as to 
 leave uncovered the rich edge of glossy hair, that 
 from a noble forehead streamed down in curling 
 locks to shoulders over which were thrown the folds 
 of a woolen tissue, pinned to her black dress. A 
 groom with two horses was in waiting at a short 
 distance. A steep path, three feet wide, cut in the 
 rock, wound along the crest of the mountain on one
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 325 
 
 side, and, on the other, yawned an abyss five hundred 
 feet deep. 
 
 There Charlotte Corday had alighted from her 
 horse, to admire the magnificent view which spread 
 far and wide before her. The sun, just rising above 
 the horizon, was tipping every object in the valley 
 below, one after the other, with its golden rays. But, 
 for her who gazed at the scene, it was not the lumi 
 nary that science has nailed in the vault of Heaven ; it 
 was Apollo in his chariot of light, urging his immor 
 tal steeds through their prescribed career. The gentle 
 wind which sported with her locks, was not a current 
 of air, but an amorous zephyr who had been permitted 
 to woo the beauties of nature, whilst his tempestuous 
 brothers slept in the cavern of Eolus. To her imag 
 ination, yon stream which meandered through the 
 valley was the far-famed Eu rotas, or the still more 
 famous Tiber. That edifice which loomed on a dis 
 tant hill, took the Corinthian proportions of a Tem 
 ple of Minerva. On her left, the smoke that rose 
 from the midst of a cluster of trees, proceeded, no 
 doubt, from the altar of some deity to whom a sacri 
 fice was being offered. On her right, that rosy cloud 
 ascending to the empyreal sphere, was Venus return 
 ing to the abode of the Gods above, from a visit to 
 the Nereids who dwell in the depths of the sea where 
 she was born. The flute which greeted her ears must 
 have been that of Pan summoning his sylvan court 
 to his presence. In front of her the horizon closed 
 with a range of precipitous hills, between which she 
 could discover only a narrow passage. Surely such 
 must have been the immortal Thermopylae. She 
 fancied that she saw the glittering arms of the three 
 hundred, and the crowns of flowers with which they
 
 3 26 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 had decorated their brows for the feast of death in a 
 noble cause. But her reveries were disturbed by a 
 sudden noise which awoke the dreamer to the realities 
 of life. 
 
 A shot had been fired at a man who was seen run 
 ning up the narrow path that led to the spot where 
 she stood. He seemed exhausted, and his pursuers, 
 half a score in number, were evidently gaining ground 
 upon him, although the distance which separated 
 them might be. a quarter of a mile. At that sight, 
 the groom in waiting, fearing some danger, had ap 
 proached his mistress, and presenting the bridle of 
 her horse, was urging her to mount. Whilst she 
 hesitated, the fugitive, who had rallied all his strength 
 for a supreme effort, bounded to her side. " Lady," 
 he said, with panting breath, " whoever you may be, 
 save my life. I am no wretch hunted for any crime, 
 but a representative of the people a member of the 
 National Convention, one of the Girondists outlawed 
 by Marat and his assassin compeers. My name is 
 Barbaroux." It would not have been in the heart of 
 woman to resist the supplicating look of this Anti- 
 nous of modern times. But it was not that which 
 moved her whom he addressed. Prompt as thought 
 she pointed to one of the horses. " Take him," she 
 said, " and give him the reins. The faithful animal 
 will carry you to a castellated building in a se 
 cluded spot. When at the gate, knock with confi 
 dence, ask for Grandchamp, the steward ; show him 
 this ring for your authority, and tell him to hide you 
 in that place which is known only to him and to me." 
 Away, away flew the horse with his charge, and he 
 had almost disappeared, when the men who were in 
 pursuit confronted the young woman who had calmly
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 327 
 
 awaited their coming. "We have seen, damsel, what 
 you have done," said the commandant in a threaten 
 ing tone. " How dared you assist the flight of the 
 guilty from justice ? Who are you ? " 
 
 " One who loves liberty, and hates tyranny most 
 when hypocritically committing crimes in that sacred 
 name." 
 
 " That fugitive," continued the officer, " is an enemy 
 of the people, and his life is forfeited by a decree of 
 the National Convention. I will arrest you and bring 
 you before that body to answer for yourself." 
 
 " I am willing to follow you. My answer is ready. 
 I will fearlessly plead guilty of an act of humanity. 
 I know what will be my fate before such judges as 
 Marat and Robespierre. But, before I ascend the 
 scaffold, I promise to ask them one favor which is, 
 not to forget to give you the price of blood that you 
 will have so well deserved. How much is my head 
 worth, citizen, and at what sum will you assess it? 
 Speak." 
 
 The officer's face crimsoned. " Soldiers," he said, 
 turning to his men with an affected smile, " my 
 mother has always told me to be blind to the faults 
 of women. Yours did probably the same. What do 
 you say? Were our mothers right?" "Aye, aye," 
 was the reply. 
 
 " Then, right about face and forward march. We 
 shall move down this confounded hill with more ease 
 than we came up. When at headquarters, I will send 
 men in every direction after the fugitive. He shall not 
 escape. For the present, we can not, on foot, catch 
 one who is on horseback. As to the citoyenne here, 
 we will not report her. She is no aristocrat, for she 
 has told us that she loves liberty and hates tyranny.
 
 328 4 UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Three cheers for liberty ! " And they departed, shout- 
 ing with all the strength of their lungs for what they 
 so little understood in its political and practical appli 
 cation. 
 
 For several weeks after this event the whole prov 
 ince of Normandy had been thoroughly scoured by 
 the emissaries of the National Convention, and the 
 manor of Charlotte Corday had been twice searched, 
 without any discovery being made that could lead to 
 the arrest of Barbaroux. Finally, there came a re 
 port, generally believed to be true, that he had safely 
 reached the sea-coast and embarked for England. 
 The pursuit ceased, and the inhabitants of the district 
 suspected of having harbored the fugitive became free 
 from domiciliary visits. The human bloodhounds had 
 been withdrawn, and probably sent elsewhere after 
 other victims. All this while, however, Barbaroux had 
 remained concealed in the place where he had found a 
 refuge. Old Grandchamp, the steward, had watched 
 with the utmost solicitude over the safety of the guest 
 who had been intrusted to his care, not that he took 
 the slightest personal interest in him, but because his 
 arrest, where he was, might have endangered the life 
 of her by whom he was sheltered. That gray-haired 
 servant had been the trusty esquire and secretary of 
 Count Louis Corday D'Armans during forty years, 
 his inseparable companion in all his campaigns, and a 
 sympathizing participator in all the trials of his life. 
 
 It is difficult, nowadays, fully to understand the 
 relations which still existed at that epoch, between 
 gentlemen and those of their domestics who approach 
 ed the nearest to their persons. Grandchamp was a 
 specimen of those family attendants who commanded 
 the confidence and friendship of those to whom they
 
 A UPER T D USA YE T. 3 29 
 
 had attached themselves with hereditary fidelity, and 
 who boasted that their fathers had served the ances 
 tors of their masters. He had always been ready to 
 sacrifice himself for Le Comte mon maitre, as the Comte 
 should have been to die for Le Roi mon maitre ; and 
 that a Corday should have been a republican and have 
 failed in his allegiance to royal authority, was the 
 most portentous and inexplicable event of which old 
 Grandchamp's imagination could dream. He, at least, 
 would follow his mission on earth, which was to be 
 true and cling forever to the family under whose roof 
 his cradle had been placed by Providence, and to per 
 ish, if mote be, with the last representative of that 
 race a calamity which, he doubted not, would soon 
 happen. For, what were the signs of the times ? Had 
 not the highest nobility of France renounced and sacri 
 ficed their titles, their honors, and even their historical 
 names on what they called the altar of patriotism ? 
 Were not some of the former magnates of the land at 
 the head of low-born and ignorant demagogues, who 
 had destroyed a glorious monarchy consecrated by a 
 thousand years of existence ? Had not a prince of the 
 blood, a descendant of Saint Louis, boasted of being 
 the adulterous son of a coachman? Were not such 
 monstrosities and horrors the indications and forerun 
 ners of the coming end of the world? Had he not 
 been ordered, he, Grandchamp, to conceal a regicide 
 under the roof of a long line of knights who had per 
 ished in the defense of those ideas and affections 
 which the last heiress of their name and blood had re 
 pudiated ? But he had obeyed, hard as it was to his 
 loyal heart. It was not for such as he to question the 
 deeds or the motives of those he was bound to love 
 and to serve ; and, if they courted self-destruction, it
 
 330 A USER T D USA YE T. 
 
 was none of his business to oppose them. His duty 
 was to follow them whither they went. Theirs was 
 the responsibility ; that was enough for him. Forlorn 
 sentinel of the past, when all changed around him, he 
 would die at his post. Such were the feelings of that 
 humble and generous soul. Such was the strange up 
 side-down of all things on the revolutionary soil of 
 France. Nobles had become democrats, and valets 
 had remained aristocrats ! 
 
 During his concealment, Barbaroux had been favor 
 ed, always in the evening, when there was less danger 
 of being seen, with several interviews with Charlotte 
 Corday. They took place in the library, to which he 
 obtained access through a secret passage cut in the 
 thickness of the walls. Grandchamp, on such occa 
 sions, had never failed to be present. He was a man 
 of tall stature, of military mien, with a bronzed face, 
 harsh features, rough voice, and a few locks of white 
 hair straggling over a bald and osseous head, which 
 formed a striking contrast with his very dark, heavy 
 brows and thick moustaches. Under this rugged ex 
 terior there was hid a soul full of gentleness and sus 
 ceptible of unlimited devotion. At all these meetings 
 of Charlotte and Barbaroux he had attended in obedi 
 ence to her special request. Stationing himself near 
 the wall of the apartment between two bookcases, 
 there he stood like a statue with his arms folded on 
 his breast, while the fugitive and his kind protectress, 
 seated near a table in the center of the library, con 
 versed together. Barbaroux was only twenty-five 
 years old, of the same age with Charlotte Corday. He 
 was a man of considerable abilities and had some of 
 the gifts of the orator. His eloquence was impetuous 
 like his temper. He was more vehement than logical,
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 33 j 
 
 more bold than tenacious of purpose. He readily pro 
 duced a favorable impression by his brilliant qualities 
 and his manly beauty, which is reported to have been 
 extraordinary. He was possessed of elevated senti 
 ments, but deficient in that maturity of judgment 
 which is in most men only the fruit of experience. 
 His patriotism was sincere and ardent, and he ingrati 
 ated himself with all those who approached him, by 
 the amiable frankness of his character. He had a 
 poetical mind, and there is still extant an ode by him 
 on volcanoes, that contains some passages of great 
 literary merit. He had delivered in the National 
 Convention several speeches full of vigor ; he had 
 made excellent reports on matters of administration 
 and legislation, and written, in a style worthy of com 
 mendation, several fragments of instructive memoirs 
 on certain events of the revolution which required 
 elucidation. But his career was destined to be short. 
 He had attacked Marat and Robespierre ; and, being 
 deemed by them a dangerous adversary, they had re 
 solved to remove him from the tribune of the Na 
 tional Convention to the platform of the guillotine. 
 
 It is not astonishing that such a personage, made 
 still more interesting by the touch of adversity, should 
 have produced the most vivid impression on Charlotte 
 Corday. She loved to listen to his picturesque de 
 scriptions of the struggles he had witnessed and in 
 which he had shared, and of the celebrated men who 
 occupied the attention of the world. What a gigantic 
 drama ! Was there ever one more replete with awful 
 and sudden turns of fortune? She never tired of in 
 terrogating him on what he had seen, heard, felt, and 
 hoped. He threw light on many of those wonderful 
 events which had stood before her like dark and im-
 
 332 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 penetrable shadows. As to Barbaroux, the better he 
 became acquainted with her, the greater was his as 
 tonishment, and the more intense the admiration he 
 felt for her character. He could hardly realize the 
 moral phenomenon which was revealed to him. He 
 had accidentally met a young and highly-educated 
 woman, as foreign as the Coliseum and Parthenon to 
 the age in which she lived. It seemed as if in her the 
 spirit of antiquity had been revived in all its grand and 
 pristine simplicity, and had incarnated itself with all 
 its intellectual chastity of taste, its sublime thoughts, 
 its exalted sentiments, its self-sacrificing and all-ab 
 sorbing patriotism, and its heroic philosophy, such as 
 glow in the pages of Plato and Plutarch. By what in 
 cantation had this beauteous being been evoked from 
 her marble tomb, and made again a thing of life, such 
 as she was centuries ago, when she moved, no doubt, 
 and breathed like a goddess in the porticoes of Athens 
 or Rome? Under the spell which she had thrown 
 over his soul, he felt that his faculties had expanded, 
 that his heart palpitated with nobler aspirations, and 
 that his ambition had been hallowed as if by a purify 
 ing flame from heaven. He had but one thought 
 one burning and all-engrossing thought to do some 
 great thing for his country and mankind, and then 
 say to her: "Am I worthy of your love?" 
 
 Barbaroux, with the assistance of Charlotte, Grand- 
 champ, and the groom whose horse he had taken on 
 the day of his escape from his pursuers, had maintained 
 constant communication with his friends, and had 
 been informed that they had levied a small army, with 
 which, under the leadership of some of the outlawed 
 Girondists, they had taken a stand at Vernon, on the 
 banks of the Seine. Their intention was, if backed
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 333 
 
 by Custine, who had the command of the army of the 
 North, to march upon the Convention in Paris and 
 arrest those members who constituted what was called 
 " the mountain." But the co-operation of that Gen 
 eral had failed them, and, attacked by superior forces, 
 they had been totally routed, at the very time when 
 Barbaroux was preparing to emerge from his hiding- 
 place and join their ranks. Defeated in his hopes in 
 that quarter, he had resolved to make his way to Bor 
 deaux, where he relied on finding warm partisans of 
 his cause, and from that city to proceed to Marseilles 
 by moving along the Mediterranean coast. " There," 
 he had said to Charlotte, " I shall be in my strong 
 hold, and if it come to the worst if we must give 
 up the rest of France to tyranny and sanguinary mis 
 rulethere we will erect the standard of a true repub 
 lic. That old city of the Phoceans has lungs in good 
 condition to breathe the genial air of liberty, and 
 enough of stubborn courage to maintain her inde 
 pendence. She once knew how to resist the Cartha 
 ginians, jealous of her commercial prosperity, and did 
 not succumb to the Athenians when attacked by their 
 intrepid hosts. Nay, three centuries before the Chris 
 tian Era, she had become the Athens of the Gauls. 
 Her municipal administration was praised by Cicero 
 as a fit model for imitation. Her government was 
 republican under the auspices of six hundred senators. 
 After many disasters which could not crush her, she 
 remained an independent republic under the protec 
 tion of Rome, recovered her commercial importance, 
 and became famous for her schools. After her annex 
 ation to the French monarchy, she had preserved, 
 even under Louis XIV., many privileges and fran 
 chises, which could not have been taken away by that
 
 334 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 despot without the most desperate resistance. She 
 has retained her instincts of liberty and the recollec 
 tion of her past splendor when she was free. She 
 can, therefore, be relied upon. There, at all events, 
 being supported by numerous friends throughout the 
 rest of France, we can make along stand, until Marat 
 and Robespierre, who are the sole obstacles to her 
 regeneration, shall be swept away, as soon as their 
 nefarious designs are better understood by the masses 
 whom they deceive." Cherishing such hopes, he had 
 begged Charlotte Corday to prepare everything for 
 his secret departure, and to provide him with the 
 means of reaching Bordeaux as speedily as circum 
 stances would permit. After several days, during 
 which she had cautiously planned the execution of his 
 contemplated design, Charlotte sent word to Barba- 
 roux that all was ready, and that she would meet him 
 in the library at the usual hour. When it struck, she 
 entered the room with Grandchamp bearing in his 
 hands a large bundle. 
 
 " My poor prisoner," she said to Barbaroux, " I 
 have been successful in accomplishing your wishes. 
 You will soon be on the wing with the lark. Before 
 daybreak, a wagoner will meet you at the small gate 
 of the park. Grandchamp will take you to him. You 
 will find in this bundle all that is necessary for a com 
 plete disguise of your person. The wagoner can be 
 trusted, and is a man well known on the roads from 
 Normandy to Bordeaux, on which he frequently trav 
 els. You will pass for his nephew, whom he has lately 
 associated in business with himself." 
 
 Barbaroux returned his acknowledgments, and 
 begged, as they were to part perhaps forever, that she 
 would be pleased to prolong, as much as possible, an
 
 A USER T D UBA YET. 335 
 
 interview which was to be followed by a painful sep 
 aration. Graciously assenting, she beckoned him to a 
 seat, and took one for herself, whilst Grandchamp oc 
 cupied his post as usual between the two bookcases. 
 Never had Barbaroux been more interesting in the 
 expression of his views, feelings, and hopes. Never 
 had he with more sympathetic and contagious ardor 
 spoken of that future which he saw so glorious for 
 France and for himself. The soul of Charlotte Cor- 
 day responded to his with all the enthusiasm of her 
 nature, which had been made more vehement by her 
 peculiar training under her uncle's supervision. Two 
 young and generous hearts they were, full of noble 
 illusions and high resolves, dreaming, alas, of impossi 
 bilities and of things which are not of earth. Let them 
 enjoy the flitting hour which was never to return ; for, 
 near them, although invisible, yawned a bloody grave ! 
 In a delightful interchange of congenial aspirations, 
 they were unconscious of the flight of time, when the 
 announcement of midnight came solemnly to their 
 astonished ears from the belfry of the neighboring 
 village. Startled at the sound, Charlotte rose from 
 her seat. 
 
 " Barbaroux," she said, " I have lingered too long. 
 We must part. Farewell ! " and she tendered her 
 hand to him, which he took eagerly, and on which he 
 imprinted a respectful kiss, in token of such profound 
 homage as a loyal subject pays to his sovereign. 
 
 " Dear Charlotte," he replied with emotion, " you 
 have saved my life and periled yours for my sake. 
 This has established between us such ties as author 
 ize me to use the word which I have coupled with 
 your name, and which bursts from a more than grate 
 ful heart, for I am a lover but one whose love is
 
 336 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 so strangely mixed with sentiments akin to what must 
 be felt toward an object of divine worship, that I can 
 not address you in the ordinary language of common 
 place passion. I will only say: permit me in the pres 
 ence and with the sanction of that venerable servant of 
 your house, who watches over it with hereditary de 
 votion, permit me, ere we part, to pledge to you my 
 faith, which I hope soon to redeem in more auspicious 
 times," and he knelt at her feet. 
 
 A slight blush overspread the beautiful, serene face 
 of Charlotte Corday, but it vanished like the flash of 
 the lightning. " Rise, my noble friend ; rise, I be 
 seech you," she said in gentle tones. " I thank you 
 for the honor you do me ; I thank you for not ad 
 dressing me with the expressions of vulgar passion. 
 There is no mortal lover whose vows Charlotte Cor 
 day could accept. I am wedded start not wedded," 
 continued she, with a smile, " to one of those heroes 
 of antiquity among whom I have always lived. Choose 
 which you please it matters not. I long to join 
 those sublime beings who dwelt in the distant past, 
 and whom my imagination cherishes as realities of the 
 present. Hence the seclusion and solitude of my ex 
 istence. I have always felt as if in a state of widow 
 hood. Seek not to kindle love in my heart. My love 
 is buried under the ashes of ages. My friendship you 
 have. If you value it, go on in the path of glory. 
 Save France from tyranny think not of woman when 
 your country calls you to the rescue ; be a modern 
 hero ; let that be your mission ; I have mine. It is to 
 co-operate with you as much as may be in my power. 
 You shall know in time what I meditate. Farewell 
 again. Grandchamp, I commit him to your care. Do 
 not leave him until he is safe on the way. Farewell,
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 337 
 
 Barbaroux ; farewell, my dear friend." And they 
 parted, never to meet again on earth. 
 
 Four weeks had elapsed, when a trusty messenger 
 delivered to Charlotte a scrap of paper which con 
 tained these words : 
 
 " BORDEAUX, July, 1793. 
 
 " NOBLE AND DEAR FRIEND : I found the reign of 
 terror prevailing here as in Paris. The'whole popu 
 lation is paralyzed by abject fear. I am in the hands 
 of the emissaries of Marat, the butcher of France. 
 Before long I shall die on the scaffold. May we meet 
 in the Elysian Fields among your favorite heroes of 
 antiquity. BARBAROUX." 
 
 She kissed the note, and put it in her bosom ; then 
 she walked to the library, and, taking down from one 
 of the shelves the " Phedo of Plato," in which the 
 question of the immortality of the soul is so luminous 
 ly and eloquently discussed, she read it attentively, 
 until her eyes straying from the book and her mind 
 lapsing into a state of abstraction, she remained a. 
 long while motionless the statue of meditation. At 
 last, she raised her head, and her looks fell on the bust 
 of Brutus. She rose and approached the sculptured 
 image. " No, Brutus, no," she exclaimed. " It is not 
 true, what thou once didst say. It is not true, that 
 virtue is nothing but a name, for it lived in thee, it 
 has lived ever since, and it is because it will live for 
 ever, an ennobling and consoling reality, that thy 
 memory has ever been honored, and that thy exam 
 ple shall ever be followed, as long as man shall de 
 serve to be free. With despair in thy heart, thou 
 hast perished for Rome. With hope in mine, I shall 
 die for France." She rang a bell ; the old steward
 
 338 * UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 made his appearance, and stood before her in the atti 
 tude of a soldier waiting for the command of his supe 
 rior. " Grandchamp," she said, " I depart this evening 
 for Paris. You will hasten to Seez, and secure for 
 me a seat in the public coach." 
 
 "Alone?" inquired Grandchamp, looking fixedly 
 at her. 
 
 "Alone." - 
 
 " It is well. Has Mademoiselle informed her aunt 
 of her intended departure? " 
 
 " No. It would give her unnecessary alarm. I could 
 not explain to her the important business which calls 
 me away. It is a secret. Give her what excuse you 
 please for my absence. I commend her to your 
 care." 
 
 " The will of the last of the Cordays be done in all 
 things ! " ejaculated the old man, with an air of 
 solemn resignation, and with his harsh voice, now be 
 come slightly tremulous, as if from some sudden emo 
 tion. Charlotte looked at him with inexpressible 
 tenderness. " Grandchamp," she said, " let me em 
 brace you," and she threw herself upon his breast 
 with tears and sobs. The aged servant folded her in 
 his arms, kissed her brow, and muttered, in broken 
 accents : " The will of the last of the Cordays be done 
 in all things ! " 
 
 When Charlotte Corday arrived in Paris, she was in 
 formed that twenty-one Girondists had been seized and 
 were in prison, awaiting their trial. All knew what in 
 those days a trial meant. It was a mere formality, 
 rapidly gone through, previous to passing the sentence 
 of death. It was a sort of mechanical operation the 
 stamping of victims for the scaffold as letters are for 
 the post-office. Charlotte attended the sessions of
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 
 
 the National Convention, and found that the scenes 
 which she witnessed were far more horrible than 
 those of which she had heard or read. Once she saw 
 Marat in his seat, and the hideousness of the monster 
 strengthened the resolution which she had taken. He 
 affected to speak in the vilest jargon used by the popu 
 lace, and to dress like the lowest of those whom he rep 
 resented. A round hat, shorn of its brim, much torn, 
 and battered into an almost shapeless form, covered 
 his enormous head, which looked as if it would crush 
 the body of the filthy dwarf. His greasy and un 
 combed black hair was tied round his temples by a 
 piece of coarse twine, that strove in vain to confine 
 his disheveled locks. He sported a rough, shaggy 
 overcoat, with multitudinous stains, and with a dis 
 colored velvet collar. He had on leather breeches; 
 his gray woolen stockings fell over his heels, and his 
 heavy, iron-nailed shoes were remarkable for the in 
 genuity with which so many patches on them were 
 made to hang together. He was several days, how 
 ever, without showing himself again, and it was 
 rumored that " the Friend of the People " was ex 
 hausted by the excess of his labors, and would remain 
 for awhile at home to recuperate, before reappearing 
 at the tribune to ask for the heads of the incarcerated 
 Girondists. 
 
 Charlotte wrote to Marat the following note : 
 " Citizen, I arrive from Normandy. Your love for your 
 country makes you desire, no doubt, to know what 
 events have taken place in that section of the repub 
 lic. I will present myself at your lodgings, with your 
 permission, at one o'clock. Be so kind as to receive 
 me. I will enable you to render a great service to 
 France." This application was not answered ; another
 
 340 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 was sent, and met with the same fate. Shortly after, 
 she addressed him a third letter, in which she spoke 
 of " important secrets which she had to reveal," and 
 called herself in person a few minutes after she had 
 ascertained that it had been delivered. She asked for 
 admittance : it was refused by two women whom she 
 met in the ante-chamber, and who opposed her efforts 
 to go farther. One of them was Marat's concubine. 
 He was just coming out of a bath, and, judging from 
 a few words which he overheard that it was the per 
 son who had written to him, he ordered her to be 
 introduced. He was wrapped in a loose morning 
 gown, and, with cynical carelessness, left his shaggy 
 breast exposed. The conversation was short. 
 
 "What do you want?" said Marat roughly. 
 " What are the secrets to be revealed ? " 
 
 " The mayors and other administrative officers of 
 Caen and Evreux," she replied, " are aristocrats. I 
 come to denounce them." 
 
 " Who are they?" and, with fiendish glee, he wrote 
 down the fictitious names which were given to him. 
 " You may be sure that they shall die. What next ? " 
 
 " As a reward for what I have done, will you grant 
 me the lives of some of the Girondists? I have a 
 friend among them." 
 
 " No ! " answered Marat, chuckling. " All that I 
 can do is to give you their heads as keepsakes. Choose 
 your friends better." 
 
 " If I make known to you," continued Charlotte 
 Corday, " one who is ready to assassinate you, will 
 you grant the lives I sue for? " 
 
 " No ! " shouted Marat, with mixed anger and fear. 
 " Not one life shall I spare. But I will have you ar 
 rested instantly."
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 34 j 
 
 "Then die, tyrant ! " she exclaimed, and she buried 
 in his heart, up to the hilt, a dagger that she had con 
 cealed about her person. " Help, my dear," cried 
 Marat, calling to his concubine in the next room. 
 That was all he could say. The blow had been so 
 well struck that he died instantly. The two women 
 who had heard his voice, rushed in. Charlotte made 
 no effort to escape. She stood motionless, pressing the 
 bloody dagger to her breast, and with her eyes lifted 
 up to Heaven, as if thanking the Gods for her success. 
 Charlotte Corday was soon in the hands of an officer 
 of justice. 
 
 As to Marat, his death was cruelly avenged by the 
 sacrifice of hecatombs of victims, and extraordinary 
 honors were granted to his memory, as if he had been 
 the best and the greatest citizen of the new republic. 
 Triumphal arches and provisional mausoleums were 
 erected on the principal public squares of Paris ; and on 
 the one called Le Carrousel, between the Tuileries and 
 the Louvre, a pyramid was constructed, in which were 
 exhibited his bust, his bath-tub, his inkstand, and his 
 lamp. It was guarded by sentinels day and night. 
 His corpse was carried to the Pantheon, the last asy 
 lum reserved for the illustrious dead the pagan 
 Westminster of France. His bust was solemnly in 
 stalled in every public edifice throughout the repub 
 lic, and, in many private ones, was conspicuously ex 
 hibited as the image of some household god. 
 
 There could not be discovered a single moment of 
 weakness in Charlotte Corday during all her trial be 
 fore the revolutionary tribunal. There was in her 
 deportment no sign of affectation, no trace of exag 
 geration. Throughout the examination she had to 
 undergo, her answers were simple, concise, and sweet-
 
 342 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 tempered. Once, observing that somebody was 
 drawing her portrait, she turned toward him to afford 
 a better view of her person. If she wished merely to 
 oblige, it was wondrously kind under such terrible 
 circumstances ; if it was to have her features trans 
 mitted to posterity, was it exceptionable in the woman 
 and in the heroine? She was provided by the court 
 with a counsel for her defense ; his name was Chateau 
 Lagarde. His defense of his client was marked with 
 Spartan brevity. " I believe," he said, " that I have 
 read the soul of the accused, and that it stands re 
 vealed to me. Understanding, I am sure, how she 
 wishes to be defended, I have only to declare in her 
 name that she confesses what she has done, and avers 
 that it was a homicide long premeditated, matured 
 with care, executed without fear, and remembered 
 without remorse ! " That was all, and he sat down. 
 The accused thanked him with noble simplicity and 
 infinite grace of manner for having comprehended her 
 so well. She added : " In my turn, I wish to show 
 you that I understand your soul as you do mine. 
 As a proof of it, considering that all my property 
 will be confiscated, I do not hesitate to request you 
 to pay the small debts which I have incurred in my 
 prison." She listened with calm fortitude to her sen 
 tence of death. In the cart which took her to the 
 scaffold, she showed the same sublime serenity. On 
 that day, the most humiliating spectacle, because the 
 most disgraceful, was exhibited in one of the largest 
 cities of civilized Europe. A woman, abandoned by 
 all, having no other support than her own soul, no 
 other comforter than the conviction of having done 
 her duty, entitled to all the interest which her sex 
 has a right to claim, endowed with surpassing beauty, 
 blooming with all the freshness of youth, manifesting
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 343 
 
 a degree of heroism which, if misconceived, had never 
 been excelled, might surely have been thought worthy 
 of "enthusiastic admiration. And yet, what happen 
 ed ? More than twenty thousand men pursued her 
 with clamorous insults, whilst as many looked at her 
 in cold blood and with stupid indifference, or heartless 
 curiosity. But she noticed them not no, not one 
 instant. She passed between them like an impassible 
 apparition from a purer sphere. Perhaps, with her 
 mind's eye, she saw gathered round her as an encour 
 aging escort, and waving their laurel crowns to their 
 future companion, disembodied spirits with the halo 
 of immortality on their brows. The only emotion 
 which she showed was that of offended modesty, when 
 the public executioner removed the kerchief covering 
 her bosom and the neck on which his ax was to fall. 
 Let it be recorded, to the honor of humanity, that 
 four men dared to publicly praise Charlotte Corday 
 shortly after her death. Three were executed for it. 
 One of them, who had caused to be printed a eulogy 
 of that heroine, and who had proposed to have a statue 
 erected to her memory, with this inscription, 
 " Greater than Brutus," exclaimed, when he was 
 brought to the block : " I am happy to die for Char 
 lotte Corday, and on the same scaffold." 
 
 True, she was greater than Brutus, for she was a 
 woman, and her motives were probably purer and 
 more disinterested. She was a beautiful specimen of 
 pagan, but not Christian heroism. To murder, even 
 for a noble purpose, is not sanctioned by the ethics 
 of the Gospel. It is impossible, however, not to take 
 pleasure in admiring her magnificent self-sacrifice, not 
 withstanding the stern admonition of Montesquieu, 
 who says : " It is that heroism which is destructive of 
 morality that excites the most our admiration."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE LAST BANQUET OF THE GIRONDISTS. 
 
 "BLOOD will have blood," is a phrase which has 
 become axiomatic, and history informs us that politi 
 cal assassinations never answer the purpose for which 
 they were perpetrated. The blow which Brutus 
 struck at Caesar in the Senate of Rome, rather con 
 solidated tyranny than re-established liberty, and the 
 death of Marat by the dagger of Charlotte Corday, 
 instead of saving the Girondists, was a pretext for 
 Robespierre to send them to the scaffold, and adopt 
 measures of proscription that gave rise in France to 
 that condition of things which will ever be known in 
 the annals of that country as being emphatically " the 
 reign of terror." About three months after Marat 
 had perished, and been put among the new gods of 
 the republic after the mythological fashion of Rome 
 and Greece, twenty-one Girondists had been brought 
 before the revolutionary tribunal of justice and sen 
 tenced to be executed the next day. At that epoch, 
 a prison was called " the ante-chamber to the guillo 
 tine." Those who were taken to that ante-chamber, 
 generally did not wait long for an introduction to her 
 ladyship. She administered an expeditious mode of 
 death, which was said to be less painful than any one 
 previously practiced by public executioners, and which 
 could not be disgraceful, since it was inflicted on the 
 (344)
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 345 
 
 elite of the nation merely because it was the elite. It 
 is, therefore, singular that so many persons, when ar 
 rested, should have resolved to escape by suicide the 
 easy and honorable death awarded by the guillotine. 
 But, to imitate antiquity was the prevailing mania, 
 and, as suicides were deemed heroic deeds, every man 
 thought himself a Brutus, or a Cato, if he blew out 
 his brains, or opened his bowels. It was a pagan cus 
 tom worthy of being followed the more so, perhaps, 
 because it was reprobated by the Christian religion, 
 which the republicans, philosophers, and progressists 
 of the day, like Julian the apostate, wished to set 
 aside by the revival of the superseded worship of the 
 gods and goddesses. Thus Valaze, one of the Giron 
 dists who had been put on their trial, when sentenced 
 to the guillotine, struck himself to the heart with a 
 concealed weapon and fell dead in court. It was 
 thought dramatic and sublime. It certainly was sen 
 sational. The corpse was carried back to jail with the 
 surviving twenty, and there a scene took place which 
 could have happened only in France, and which 
 shows, more impressively than anything else, the moral 
 condition of the people at that time. The Girondists 
 were admitted to be the most high-toned among the 
 members of the Convention, and yet, on the eve of 
 death, how did they prepare themselves to meet their 
 Creator and close a life that entailed, on some of them 
 at least, a responsibility from which, if properly con 
 scious of it, stouter hearts might have shrunk with 
 terror? Their last and engrossing thought seems to 
 have been to take striking attitudes before the world 
 like actors on the stage, and to dramatize their end. 
 With the corpse of one of their companions lying in 
 a corner of the room, they conceived the idea of 
 15*
 
 346 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 having a final exit banquet, in which, although death 
 might be said to be seated at the board, they would, 
 notwithstanding his grim presence, enjoy the flitting 
 hours, and not only prove themselves philosophically 
 unconcerned about their fate, but even show more 
 gaiety, wit, and eloquence than on ordinary occasions. 
 As they entertained different and antagonistic opin 
 ions and feelings, some toasted the republic, and 
 others, royalty. They drank to their wives and mis 
 tresses, among whom were some of the most notori 
 ous courtesans of the epoch, who were mentioned by 
 name, such as the " brunette Gabrielle " and the 
 " giddy Illyrine." Wives and mistresses toasted to 
 gether in festive association ! The parade of worldly 
 sentiments and of skepticism in sight of the scaffold, 
 and at that awful moment which summons us to a 
 separation of soul and body, with its unknown conse 
 quences ! And these were some of the men who had 
 the pretension to establish forever the " virtuous re 
 public " announced by Robespierre, and who had 
 thought themselves capable of being the leaders of a 
 great nation ! It is singular that every French writer 
 who speaks of that supper of the Girondists, treats it 
 as one of the most impressive and sublime scenes on 
 record. Thus the historian Thiers says with an evi 
 dent feeling of complacency : " They took in com 
 mon their last repast, in which they were alternately 
 gay, grave, eloquent." Twenty patriots carousing 
 gaily and talking wittily and eloquently, not only over 
 the graves that expected them, but even over the 
 grave of that liberty which they cherished so much, 
 as the greatest blessing their country could obtain ! 
 And under what circumstances? When that country 
 was a volcano, torn by its internal throes, when for-
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 347 
 
 eign armies were threatening it on every side, when 
 cartloads of women and men were butchered every 
 day, when they themselves left their families in utter 
 destitution and in the agonies of despair, and when 
 such horrors were perpetrated in their capital as no 
 civilized society had ever seen before ! No, their 
 hearts were not, could not be, in it. To act as they 
 did is not in human nature, and it is not to be sup 
 posed that there is a peculiar French nature which is 
 an exception to it. They were acting a part acting 
 like madmen, more intoxicated with the fumes of an 
 excessive vanity than with those of the wine they 
 drank. Their hearts were misled and their minds 
 crazed by the extraordinary moral disease which, for 
 more than half a century, had possessed itself of that 
 once glorious and Christian nation glorious still, but 
 now skeptic in everything and pitied by those who 
 loved her the best, at the very moment when, in her 
 fatal convulsions and illusions, she thought herself 
 the light and the guide of the world. 
 
 I shall give a mere sketch of that celebrated 
 banquet, leaving out of sight all that is impure, and 
 presenting only the side view which is the least ob 
 jectionable. That last banquet of the Girondists was 
 a mere bravado offered to God and man, which is no 
 more like the sublimity of true moral courage than 
 the vaporings of Orlando Furioso are like the serene 
 intrepidity of a Christian martyr. If we, Americans, 
 wish to form a correct estimate of the exhibition 
 made by the Girondists on that occasion, we have 
 only to fancy that England had triumphed in that 
 war for independence carried against her by her re 
 volted colonies ; that Washington, Franklin, John 
 Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton, and
 
 348 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 others of the great men of our revolution are sen 
 tenced to death, and that, a few hours before their ex 
 ecution, they are feasting together in their prison, 
 drinking madeira, sherry, and champagne, cracking 
 jokes at each other, toasting their wives and mistresses, 
 or s,ome of the belles of New York, Philadelphia, or 
 Boston, saying smart and pithy things about forms 
 of government and other matters, making a parade of 
 stoicism, wit, and erudition, whilst entirely forgetful 
 of their God, their souls, and their country ! Could 
 any conception so absurd, or execrable, spring up in 
 the brain of any American ? Is there not even some 
 thing ridiculous in the bare idea of the possibility of 
 such a scene? But let us go back to the Girondists 
 and listen to them whilst seated at table, and, to use 
 their language, making their last libation to the Gods 
 that is, if they believed in any god whatever. 
 
 " I drink," * said Mainvielle, " to all and every one 
 of our colleagues among the Girondists who are still 
 free, and I wish them success against Robespierre and 
 his acolyths." 
 
 Ducos. " I drink to the republic, one and indivisi 
 ble." 
 
 Vergniaud. " The republic ! I give it up. It is a 
 phantasma of the brain an idle chimera a bauble for 
 the enthusiastic imagination of youth to play with. 
 Remember the words of Barbaroux, who, like us, had 
 lost all faith in that which he once worshiped. ' If I 
 could recommence life,' he said, ' I would consecrate it 
 entirely to those noble studies which raise the thoughts 
 of man above the goods of the earth, and I would 
 riot venture on attempting to give free institutions to a 
 
 * Charles Nodier's " Girondists."
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 349 
 
 people destitute of all morality. The howling and 
 maniac populace of France is no more worthy of a 
 philosophical government than the lazaroni of Naples 
 and the cannibals of the New World.' Barbaroux 
 spoke the truth. A man, if he is wise, may, in his 
 leisure hours, indulge in dreaming of the republican 
 Utopias of Plato, Thomas Morus, and our dear Madam 
 Roland, who knew at last, when at the foot of the 
 scaffold, what crimes can be perpetrated in the name 
 of liberty, but he does not seriously think of realizing 
 shadows. We have all been insane, and we shall soon 
 be cured by the guillotine. Let us sacrifice a cock to 
 Esculapius. 
 
 Gensonm. " Decidedly, Vergniaud, you seem to 
 believe no longer in liberty." 
 
 Vergniaud. " If liberty were a goddess descending 
 among us with her hands full of blessings, I would 
 worship her ; but I execrate the fury who makes men 
 drunk and then devours them. Altars would never 
 have been erected to the sun, if it had always ap 
 peared escorted by tempests and desolation." 
 
 Fonfrtde. " Has not nature herself prescribed 
 social equality, or is it but a vain word?" 
 
 Vergniaud. " Who ever heard of social equality 
 among the Greeks and Romans, of whom we talk so 
 much, and whom we are so anxious to imitate? As 
 to social equality being prescribed by nature, it is a 
 cant phrase, like many others by which simpletons 
 are deluded ! There is not the slightest vestige of 
 equality whatever in anything which nature produces. 
 If social equality could exist which I consider an 
 impossibility it would be the most odious and most 
 unendurable of all tyrannies. Have you not heard 
 of Procrustes ? That monster had contrived an iron
 
 350 ^ UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 bed with which he accommodated all travelers who 
 claimed his hospitality. He stretched and dislocated 
 those who were shorter than the bed, and mutilated 
 those whose limbs protruded beyond it. That is 
 social equality." 
 
 Brissot. " Fraternity and social equality might be 
 established among men who, acknowledging the er 
 rors and miseries of civilization, have returned to the 
 innocence of primitive tribes." 
 
 Vergniaud. " Abel and Cain were primitive enough, 
 God knows, and yet what a specimen of fraternity ! " 
 
 Brissot, " I will, in dying, address to the republic 
 a salutation full of regret and hope." 
 
 Vergniaud. "And I also will address her a saluta 
 tion the salutation of the vanquished gladiator to 
 Caesar. But I shall carry with me in my mourning 
 heart the image of that sublime revolution which my 
 mind had conceived. Thus, what remained of the 
 monarchy died with Mirabeau." 
 
 Brissot. " Let us hope that Vergniaud, dying, has 
 only seen the cradle of Hercules." 
 
 Vergniaud. " Pshaw ! Hercules in his cradle stran 
 gled serpents, and did not vomit them." 
 
 Brissot. " We have legislated like Moses, in a 
 tempest. Let us flatter ourselves, however, that our 
 republic, like his laws, will live forever." 
 
 Fauchet. " Moses! His laws came from Heaven, 
 tempestuous as it was; yours, from the abyss below." 
 
 Vergniaud. " There is in decrepitude a sterility 
 which prevents old nations from giving birth to 
 youthful institutions. The idea that a monarchy of 
 one thousand years can be successfully transformed 
 into a vigorous and long-lived republic is absurd. 
 Too much must be destroyed to operate the change.
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 35 \ 
 
 It can not be done without a general conflagration. 
 What would be the result ? Nothing but ashes 
 two fathoms deep of ashes over the whole bosom of 
 France ! Well, we know that nothing comes out of 
 ashes, except the phoenix. But it is from its own 
 ashes that the eternal bird springs into regenerated 
 life. Shall a new monarchy, phoenix-like, come out 
 of the ashes of the old one which has been consumed? 
 I doubt it. I am afraid that posterity will see re 
 publics constructing monarchies monarchies recon 
 structing republics and then chaos." 
 
 Brissot. " The English monarchy is not chaos. 
 It presides over the civilization of two worlds. Much 
 as I detest those islanders, I must make this admis 
 sion." 
 
 Vergniaud. " The present English monarchy was 
 born yesterday born of a republic and there is no 
 telling how soon it may end in one. Who can fo v re- 
 see what it will be?" 
 
 Brissot. " The North Americans are not a new 
 people their civilization is borrowed from Europe, 
 and yet they have established a prosperous republic." 
 
 Vergniaud. " The monarchy of France gave birth 
 to that republic, and lost her life by it. But what 
 will become of the child, is a question to be solved 
 by time. That republic, with the co-operation of 
 France, was born out of the womb of an abstract 
 idea, as the statue of Pygmalion was born of marble. 
 To that creation of genius, life was granted by the 
 goddess of beauty, at the invocation of love, but no 
 soul, and it was denied the power of reproduction. 
 It never had a mother, and never was destined to be 
 one. The United States have no ancestry, no poet 
 ical past, nothing for the imagination to dwell upon.
 
 352 ^ USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Hence they can have no real and deep-rooted patriot 
 ism. It is a sentiment which springs from the heart 
 alone, and the heart is not warmed by reason, which 
 is as cold as ice. Nothing durable can ever be found 
 ed simply on moral ideas. The principle of life which 
 is indispensable to social or political creations is not 
 the doctrine of the philosopher, or the erudite expe 
 rience of the legislator; it is imparted by the nymph 
 of the poet and the fairy rod of the romance writer. 
 Homer did more to inspire Greece with patriotism 
 than all its Solons and Lycurguses. Even the insti 
 tutions inspired by the wisdom of Numa would not 
 have been adopted by the Romans, if not sanctioned 
 by Egeria. Besides, the young transatlantic repub 
 lic, having no neighbor to check her expansion, will 
 evidently extend over the whole continent of North 
 America. It will be a new kind of patriotism, that 
 which will have to spread over an area of thousands of 
 miles ! Probably it will have no more strength than 
 a bottle of this generous wine here would possess, if 
 diluted in the ocean. My conclusion is, that in a vast 
 country destined to be enormously rich, a republic 
 without intense patriotism is an impossibility." 
 
 Ditchatcl. " My heart was sick of the long errors 
 and miseries of so many brutish and enslaved genera 
 tions. Like yours, it aimed, in its blindness, at im 
 possible ameliorations which have already cost too 
 many tears and too much blood. The lovers of Pene 
 lope were not more bitterly deceived than have been 
 the lovers of liberty. There are days and nights for 
 the intelligence of nations as for the physical world, 
 and during the hours of darkness, what had been done 
 during the hours of light, is frequently undone." 
 
 Faucliet. " The French are a people without re-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 353 
 
 ligion, and therefore incapable of establishing any 
 solid institutions. A nation may do the masonry of 
 an edifice, but God alone must be its architect ; other 
 wise it will be a tower of Babel. Civilization is the 
 serpent that leads ungodly societies to the foot of 
 the tree of knowledge, and when they pluck its fruit, 
 it is only to learn that they are doomed to death, be 
 cause of their infidelity. Ah ! gentlemen, our revolu 
 tion came from that fruit which hung on the tree of 
 knowledge spoken of in Genesis. The eating thereof 
 produced one in Paradise." 
 
 Ducos. " Citizens, we are getting too prosy and 
 dull. Fill up your glasses to the brim. We are not 
 preaching here like monks, but feasting like the com 
 panions of Leonidas, before passing from the battle 
 field to an immortal life. Let us rejoice and be 
 merry ; let us pour perfumes on our heads and put 
 on crowns of flowers. By-the-by, I regret that, 
 whilst we were in power and voting decrees by the 
 bushel, I forgot to propose the indivisibility of the 
 head and shoulders like the indivisibility of the 
 republic." 
 
 Viger. " I am a military man. Permit me to speak 
 with the frankness which characterizes my profession, 
 and without offense to most of you who are lawyers. 
 You talked too much in the Convention. No orator, 
 no sophist ever founded or preserved social order. 
 The sword is the only agent of civilization and gov 
 ernment which is worth a cent. Robespierre, who is 
 fond of listening to his own voice, will end as we do. 
 France will be saved by one who will not talk, but 
 act. There is nothing like the eloquence of artillery 
 and the logic of the sword, to argue the lovers of 
 anarchy into orderly conduct. It is not in the gan-
 
 354 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 grened heart of a large and impure city that it is pos 
 sible to gather the elements of a sound republic. A 
 populace feeds on the entrails of the social body, as 
 ravens and buzzards on the offals of the slaughter 
 house. The regenerator of France will come out of 
 the army." 
 
 Dupcrret, " I agree with Viger ; and, if you had 
 seconded us, as we frequently proposed it to you, his 
 sword, or mine, or the sword of some other military 
 man, would have cut the Gordian knot of the revolu 
 tion." 
 
 Fauchet. " A sword will cut it yet." 
 
 Gensonne. " That of Cromwell ? " 
 
 Duchatel. "Of Monk?" 
 
 Viger. " Who knows ? France is at war with Eu 
 rope, and war alone produces those men who are capa 
 ble of governing powerful States." 
 
 Duperret. " Yes, men who save a nation from its 
 own excesses, after having protected it against a for 
 eign foe." 
 
 Vergniaud. " Like Pelopidas." 
 
 Carra. "All the events of the future being the 
 unavoidable repetition of the past, it seems to me 
 true in principle that a sword must inevitably close 
 the revolution." 
 
 Duprat. " You put me in mind of what I heard a 
 young captain of artillery say, when I was supping 
 with him more than a year ago. It produced an im 
 pression on me, and I remember his very words. 
 Speaking of the present leaders, he said : ' They will 
 march in the midst of revolutions without knowing 
 how to profit by them. They will frame constitutions 
 and violate their own work. They will make them 
 selves odious to the people and to mankind by ex-
 
 A UBER T DUBA YET. 355 
 
 cesses which had disappeared from history since Sylla 
 and the triumvirs. Then a man will come, with a halo 
 of glory, and, guided by fortune and victory, he will 
 say to them : " You had laws, and you now have none, 
 for you have trampled them under your feet. What 
 have you done with the blood of those brave legions 
 which was uselessly shed for their country ? " Thus he 
 will speak ; and, with the mere waving of his sword, 
 he will drive them out of sight and power.' " 
 
 Vergniaud. " That young captain may be the man 
 of destiny whom the future keeps in reserve. Heu / 
 Marcellus eris." 
 
 Mainviclle. " I know who it is. He is a Corsican, 
 an undersized man, with a luminous and penetrating 
 gray eye, a lean body, a long and thin profile, a vast 
 forehead, an olivaceous complexion, hair combed flat 
 and falling down to his shoulders. He speaks little ; 
 his language is picturesque and sententious. His 
 thoughts come out abrupt and brief as if they were 
 orders. His name is, I believe, Napoleon Bonaparte." 
 
 Fonfrede, " Tossed about between an imbecile aris 
 tocracy who dream of nothing but the past, and fran 
 tic demagogues who have no other instincts than those 
 of destruction, rapine, and assassination, the French, 
 one day, will be perhaps but too happy to have a 
 master." 
 
 Vergniaud. " There are epochs of dissolution, when 
 it is no more possible for tyranny to establish itself 
 among a people, than it is possible for liberty. Where 
 the tempest of revolution has passed, it leaves behind 
 in its track an oscillation which prevents stability a 
 dangerous flux and reflux. What the tide had de 
 posited on the shore, the ebb carries back. All powers 
 which are not grafted on ancient and necessary insti-
 
 356 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 tutions, identified by long usage with the national 
 character, are structures without a reliable basis. 
 Under the sirocco breath of skepticism the whole sur 
 face of France has become but one quicksand where 
 nothing can take root. I am afraid that, henceforth, 
 despotism and liberty will be but transitory things in 
 our country, and will alternately succeed each other 
 at regular intervals." 
 
 Duchatel. " This will undoubtedly happen, unless the 
 country should shelter itself under one of those powers 
 that you have just defined as resting on ancient institu 
 tions and usages, and it is no other than that monarchy 
 which you have destroyed, and which, by a salutary 
 re-action, will be re-established and founded on a con 
 stitution, or fundamental law, that will be a guaranty 
 against the evils of despotism and of too much liberty. 
 O my friends ! in a moment of insanity, you have 
 voted the death of Louis. Thank God, I have not. 
 But the planks of the scaffold did not drink the last 
 drop of that noble blood of the Bourbons, which has 
 never been shed without carrying a thrill of horror to 
 the very entrails of France." 
 
 Here he was interrupted by loud cries of " Long 
 live liberty ! " 
 
 Vergniaud. " Yes, long live liberty, but liberty 
 must permit the freedom of opinions, particularly in 
 front of the scaffold. Therefore, fill up your glasses. 
 Let us drink to whatever we please, each according 
 to his own fancy, and then, let Duchatel go on." 
 
 After silence had been re-established, Duchatel rose 
 again, and said : " Long live the King and liberty! " 
 
 Fauchet. " And religion ! " 
 
 Duchatel. " Yes ; and religion. Long live the King, 
 liberty, and religion ! They harmonize beautifully, and
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 357 
 
 are essential to one another. The ancient charters and 
 constitutions of the French monarchy, which I have 
 studied too late, and which we ought to have modi 
 fied, and not destroyed, contained a thousand times 
 more of the elements of liberty than will, in the 
 course of many ages, ever come out of the caverns of 
 your republic. Hence, I shout again: Long live the 
 King!" 
 
 " Long live liberty, and down with Kings ! " shout 
 ed in their turn most of the Girondists. Several re 
 mained silent and pensive among others, Verg- 
 niaud. After a little while, he said : " I have proved 
 that I love liberty, since I perish for having attempted 
 to establish an impossible republic in France. I must, 
 however, confess that Duchatel may be right after all ; 
 for if the happiness and prosperity of a people de 
 pend on the virtue of those by whom they are gov 
 erned, it follows that a monarchy is preferable to an 
 aristocracy, because there is a better chance to find 
 one virtuous man than a hundred ; and an aristocracy 
 is preferable to a democracy, because there is a greater 
 probability that one hundred virtuous men can be 
 found than twenty thousand. But why trouble our 
 selves with the forms of government? In our situa 
 tion, we had better discuss the immortality of the soul. 
 It is the only question which should be made the 
 order of the day." 
 
 Le Hardy. " For me it is not a question. Creation 
 can not be imperfect, because it comes from God. It 
 must, therefore, be perfect, which it would not be 
 without morality, and it would have none, were not 
 the good to be rewarded and the bad punished." 
 
 Fonfrede. " That question is answered by nature. 
 It has made man the only intelligent being in whom
 
 358 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 exists, as an instinct, the desire, the hope, and the 
 want of resurrection. The instinct would not have 
 been given, were it not to be satisfied." 
 
 Brissot. " It is answered by human reason, which 
 manifests itself in its highest degree of excellence in 
 the philosophical works of Plato. I look for the ac 
 complishment of the promise made to me by that sage 
 in the name of the great Architect of the universe." 
 
 Fauchet. " It is answered by faith, which is more 
 learned and more faithful to its promises than Plato 
 with all his conjectural investigations, and which 
 makes the Christian more certain of the future exist 
 ence than the philosopher." 
 
 Ditprat. " My friends, we are getting to be as sol 
 emn and gloomy as a cathedral seen by the dim light 
 of a half-clouded moon. I protest against it. Let 
 us adjourn this metaphysical discussion to the mo 
 ment when, our heads being in the market-basket 
 of the republic, the question of the immortality of 
 the soul will be solved ipso facto by actual demon 
 stration. For the present, let us drink, eat, and be 
 merry. We have no time to lose. Look at this huge 
 bowl of punch. I am going to set fire to it. Fill 
 up your glasses. You shall have a bacchanalian 
 song which would heat the cold blood of Robespierre 
 himself." 
 
 From that moment the banquet took a character 
 which would cease to be interesting or acceptable to 
 such readers as I choose or hope to have. At last, 
 Vergniaud pulled out his watch. " Four o'clock," he 
 said, " it will soon be day our last day ! We have 
 but two or three hours left that we can call our own. 
 It is not too much for thinking, writing, making our 
 final arrangements with the world which we leave be 
 hind us, and sleeping a little."
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 359 
 
 Mainvielle. " So far as I am concerned, I have 
 nothing to settle with the world. Let it settle its 
 own concerns to please itself. I never cared for it, 
 and now less than ever. As to thinking, my brain 
 never fatigued itself with such an operation. Writing 
 is a bore ; and as to sleeping, I shall before long do 
 nothing else." 
 
 " My dear colleagues of the National Convention," 
 said Vergniaud, striking the table with the handle of 
 his knife, " our sitting is at an end. We adjourn sine 
 die'' Five minutes after, the room was vacant. No 
 it was still occupied ; there was remaining in a cor 
 ner the corpse of Valaze. 
 
 The prisoners departed, escorted by the jailers, 
 the turnkeys, and their subordinates some bearing 
 torches, and others carrying lanterns. When Gen- 
 sonn6 arrived at the door of his cell, the man in whose 
 charge he was, instead of pushing him in and turning 
 the key, walked in with him, and looking steadfastly 
 at the prisoner, whose face seemed to inquire for the 
 cause of this unusual proceeding, said, in a voice 
 which nature had made harsh in its intonations : " Cit 
 izen Gensonne, you are the intimate friend of Barba- 
 roux, are you not?" "Yes." " Very well. I have 
 a mission to accomplish on your behalf. I was an 
 old servant of the noble damsel, Charlotte Corday 
 D'Armans. My mistress said to me, before she went 
 to. the scaffold : ' Grandchamp, it is probable that 
 Barbaroux has perished at Bordeaux. We can do 
 nothing for him ; but his friend, Gensonne, is in great 
 danger in Paris. Watch over him.' Before she thus 
 spoke, I had determined to die with her, for she was 
 the last of her race. I had no longer anything to do 
 on earth. But, as she chose to give me an order, of 
 course I had to live and execute it. So, I turned Ja-
 
 360 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 cobin, as I foresaw that it would offer me the oppor 
 tunity of being of service to you. I frequented their 
 clubs and became somewhat popular. When you 
 were arrested, I contrived to be appointed one of the 
 turnkeys of this prison. Now, be quick ; let us ex 
 change clothing. Take mine; I'll take yours. We 
 are fortunately of the same size. Make my broad- 
 brimmed hat hang low over your face, as I habitually 
 wear it. The prison is dimly lighted, and the guards 
 are getting drunk over the wines which you left. I 
 have been given an errand by the chief jailer. Here 
 is the order in writing which permits me to go out. 
 Show it to the man at the outside gate. As to the 
 inside doors, here are the keys ; they are all num 
 bered one, two, three, four to be used as you go 
 on. You can not make a mistake." And he began 
 stripping himself. 
 
 " Stop," said Gensonn6, almost paralyzed with as 
 tonishment. " What have I done for you, that you 
 forfeit your life to save mine ? " 
 
 " You have done nothing," replied Grandchamp. 
 " I care not for your life ; you will owe me no obliga 
 tion. I was told to watch over you, and to save you, 
 if possible. I obey the order. That's all." 
 
 " But, if I fly, you will be butchered in my place." 
 
 " Exactly what I want," growled Grandchamp. 
 " My mission being at an end, I am free to act as I 
 please. But, hurry, hurry ; take off your clothes as 
 I do mine. Otherwise, it will be too late." 
 
 Tears of admiration came into the eyes of Gen- 
 sonn6, and he pressed warmly in his hands those of 
 Grandchamp. "You are the noblest and most gen 
 erous of men in your heroic simplicity," he said. 
 " Would that all the French were like you ! "
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 36 T 
 
 " If they were," answered Grandchamp, " France 
 would not be a republic. I am a royalist of the deep 
 est dye. But, make haste." 
 
 Gensonm. " My friend, keep your clothes on, and 
 answer me frankly one single question, as I know you 
 will ; for you have sufficiently revealed your nature 
 to me. We are capable of understanding each other. 
 Were you in my place, would you desert your com 
 panions and fly ? " 
 
 " No ! " replied Grandchamp, firmly and unhesitat 
 ingly. 
 
 Gensonnf. " Your answer prescribes what I have 
 to do, and precludes all further solicitations on your 
 part. Thanks to you with all my heart for your at 
 tempt to save my life, and farewell ! Any further 
 stay would expose you unnecessarily." 
 
 Grandchamp. " Is it your last word ? " 
 
 Gensonm. " The last." 
 
 Grandchamp. " You are what you should be." 
 And it was his turn to shake cordially Gensonn6's 
 hands. " It i"s time to part," he continued. " But we 
 shall meet again at the foot of the scaffold." And he 
 retired, muttering between his teeth : " Those repub 
 licans, after all, are not so mean and rascally as I 
 thought." 
 
 On the next day, the Girondists were piled up in a 
 large and long cart and carried to the place of execu 
 tion, where an immense crowd awaited them. There 
 they all acted dramatically, and uttered pithy and 
 brilliant sentences, destined to produce stage effect, 
 and to be duly recorded for posterity. Some joked, 
 some laughed, some even perpetrated puns. Others 
 hummed the Marseillaise, or an opera tune. Every 
 one showed his contempt of death in the way which 
 16
 
 362 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 he thought would be most striking. Several of them 
 shouted : " Long live the republic ! " in which they 
 did not believe, and which was tyrannically slaugh 
 tering them without any cause, or reason, or pretext 
 whatever, to palliate the atrocity of the deed. There 
 was an incident which moved the multitude. When 
 Duchatel ascended the scaffold, a bouquet of daisies 
 and immortelles, to which was attached a paper, and 
 which was thrown by an unseen hand, fell at his feet. 
 It was picked up by the public executioner. "Read 
 it ! read it ! " cried the crowd. The executioner read 
 it in a distinct voice : 
 
 " FOR MR. DUCHATEL : 
 
 " My heart had responded to your love, dear Du 
 chatel, and yet I did not express it to you, because 
 there could be no possible alliance between us on 
 earth. To-day you die ; in a few days it will be my 
 turn, for I have just been arrested, and I am soon to 
 be tried. You will not long precede me to the bridal 
 chamber. Prepare it for me, dearest. My heart and 
 hand are yours throughout eternity. 
 
 " LUCILE." 
 
 Duchatel looked up to Heaven with a radiant face, 
 and after his head had fallen, his features had retained 
 an expression of joy. 
 
 The last who perished was Gensonn6. " Long live 
 the republic ! " he exclaimed with a mocking tone 
 and attitude. " Long live the republic ! which you 
 have not, and which you will never have." 
 
 It was eleven o'clock when this massacre began, 
 and, " Thirty minutes after," says a French writer, 
 " twenty of the judges of the King of France had 
 appeared before the Eternal Judge."
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 363 
 
 When the last of the Girondists had ceased to ex 
 ist, a tall and rugged figure ascended the scaffold with 
 slow and measured steps, and, when on the platform, 
 looked calmly but austerely at the astonished multi 
 tude, whom he seemed disposed to address. It was 
 Grandchamp. That address was not long. Stretch 
 ing himself up to his full height, and expanding his 
 breast, he shouted : " Vile and blood-thirsty canaille, 
 I hope that you will one day receive the punishment 
 which you deserve. I defy you all. Long live the 
 King ! Long live the memory of Charlotte Corday, 
 and down with your republic of demons!" There 
 was but one vast clamor of : " Off with his head ! Off 
 with his head ! " Grandchamp smiled in approbation, 
 and, after waving his hand as if returning thanks, ad 
 justed himself his neck in the guillotine. The "off 
 with his head " was more vociferously repeated by 
 thousands of voices. "Citizens," said the public 
 executioner, " I have no authority to do it ; I am 
 without orders ; I can not incur the responsibility." 
 " I will assume it," exclaimed a man frantic with rage, 
 who jumped upon the platform, and touched a spring 
 that kept suspended the fatal ax. It descended with 
 a hissing sound, and Grandchamp's head was the 
 twenty-first which, by its fall on that day, gratified 
 the eyes of a ferocious multitude. Thus perished 
 one of those faithful domestics of whom so many of 
 the households of France could boast under the old 
 regime, and who, henceforth, will be looked upon as 
 an impossible type of beings, whose chronicled devo 
 tion and honesty seem more compatible with those 
 fictions which grace legendary traditions, than with 
 the sobriety of history and its truth-sifting investi 
 gations.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 DEMOLITION BY A DECREE OF THE NATIONAL AS 
 SEMBLY OF THE CHATEAU DE CHANTILLY, 
 THE HOME OF THE GREAT CONDE THE 
 VISION IN THE LAKE. 
 
 WE have lost sight of Tintin Calandro. What had 
 become of him, since he brought to Mirabeau the 
 grateful news that Marie Antoinette had granted him 
 the interview which he so desired, to save, as he 
 hoped, the monarchy of France, and since he had re 
 ceived frorn the dying orator his last message to royal 
 ty? We must retrace our steps to the epoch when 
 the King was still nominally on the throne, after his 
 return from Varennes, where he had been arrested in 
 his flight and brought back to Paris, whilst the friend 
 of the Queen, the Princess de Lamballe, had succeed 
 ed in finding a safe asylum in England, which she was 
 preparing, however, to abandon ; for she had deter 
 mined to come back and share in all the dangers of 
 her royal mistress. At that time, the National Con 
 vention was passing the most severe decrees against 
 those nobles who had emigrated from France, among 
 whom were all the members of the House of Conde, 
 a prince of the blood. Lakanal, who had obtained a 
 seat in that Assembly, and who had ceased to be a 
 Catholic priest, like other similar progressists, had 
 been instructed to take possession of Chantilly, the 
 famous residence of the prince, where one of his an- 
 (364)
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 365 
 
 cestors, the Great Conde, had given to Louis XIV. 
 those marvelous entertainments described in the let 
 ters of Madam de Sevigne, and in more than one of 
 the memoirs of the seventeenth century. The chdtcau 
 was to be demolished ; all the gold, silver, copper, and 
 lead, and all the other valuable materials there to be 
 found, were to be appropriated to public purposes. 
 
 Immediately after receiving this commission, Lak- 
 anal had departed for Chantilly without any attend 
 ant. He wished to examine the extent of the work 
 to be done, and ascertain what number of men he 
 would have to employ. He had other reasons to de 
 sire to be alone when applying to get possession of 
 the building he was to destroy. Although he had 
 occasionally met Aubert Dubayet, he had been, since 
 he had begun his revolutionary career, sedulously 
 avoided by Tintin Calandro, and this man, whose 
 heart was as hard as adamant, and who, to achieve 
 his fanatical purposes, would without emotion have 
 sent to the block all the kings, queens, and nobility 
 of Europe, shrank from meeting a poor musician, 
 once his school companion. In his memory, bloom 
 ing at times with all the freshness of youth, there 
 lived again two boys who had often been locked in 
 each other's arms, who had gamboled together on 
 the green-sward, and one of whom had been saved 
 by the other, when the angry waves of a torrent were 
 carrying him away. The joyful laugh of childhood 
 still rang in his ears ; the sight of a bright, candid, 
 confiding face, budding into adolescence, still greeted 
 his eyes ; and into that stern heart of his a softness 
 crept which he could not subdue. He had heard that 
 the Princess de Lamballe, previous to her flight, had 
 provided for Tintin Calandro, and had caused him to
 
 366 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 be appointed keeper of the CJidtcau dc Chantilly, with 
 a good salary. Would he, Lakanal, attempt to drive 
 him away? He knew Tintin Calandro but too well; 
 he expected resistance, and resistance to the will of the 
 National Convention was death ! Would he kill Tin- 
 tin Calandro? No! no! He had laughed, he had 
 sneered at him that he could do but dig his grave ! 
 Never ! That life at least was safe in his hands. He 
 would not yield it to any exigency; he woujd battle 
 for it like a man ; he would watch over it with a 
 woman's tenderness. Such are the mysteries of hu 
 man nature. Thus in barren deserts travelers will 
 meet a green spot and a gushing spring from some 
 blasted rock. 
 
 As we see, Lakanal had his own special reason for 
 encountering Tintin Calandro without a witness. He 
 had prepared himself for the first burst of indigna 
 tion of his sensitive friend ; he would coax and 
 soothe him; he would persuade him to succumb 
 gently to resistless fate, and to accept his protection. 
 Encouraged by these thoughts, Lakanal summoned 
 all his resolution, and, on the clear evening of an au 
 tumnal day, entered the park of Chantilly on foot. 
 A herd of tame deer glided by him, and were soon 
 lost among the trees and in the darkening shades of 
 the departing twilight. A milk-white fawn, with a 
 gilt collar on her neck, had detached herself from the 
 rest, and, after circling round and round the stranger 
 in frolicsome coquetry, displaying her beauty and 
 grace, approached him with her nostrils distended, 
 her soft eyes beaming with the expectation of familiar 
 caresses, and with her head and neck stretched to re 
 ceive some dainty bit of food. Charmed with the 
 sight, Lakanal stood motionless, not to frighten the
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 367 
 
 timid animal. The fawn turned around him, smell 
 ing his clothes and hands, and, suddenly showing all 
 the signs of extreme terror, uttered a plaintive cry 
 and bounded away, as if she had been chased by a 
 famished wolf. He sighed, and went on. He walked 
 in alleys shaded by tall oaks whose aged limbs spread 
 over his head. The wind moaned through their leafy 
 crowns, and dismal howls, far distant, were wafted to 
 his ears. Lakanal was a man of strong nerves, and 
 entirely destitute of imagination ; and yet he could 
 not but feel, now and then, a creeping of the flesh, as 
 he fancied that he heard near him some strange noise, 
 and that he had indistinct glimpses of mysterious 
 forms which scowled at him and melted into the ris 
 ing mist. As he proceeded, a shower of leaves kept 
 falling on and about him, and he shuddered when to 
 his eye ever}'- leaf, as it reached the ground, seemed 
 to assume the appearance of a large drop of blood. 
 He hastened his steps, and when at last he stood in 
 front of the stately edifice of which he was to be the 
 destroyer, perspiration streamed from- his forehead, 
 notwithstanding the keenness of the night air. He 
 stared at the palace for a moment with something 
 like a feeling of awe. The silence and solitude were 
 appalling ; no sign of life was visible ; every door and 
 window was closed, not a light was to be seen. With 
 a trembling hand he knocked at the main entrance. 
 After a little while, steps were heard approaching, 
 bolts and bars were withdrawn, and Tintin Calandro, 
 with a lantern in his hand, and an enormous dog of 
 the Mount St. Bernard breed by his side, stood on 
 the threshold. The dog, as soon as he saw the 
 stranger, was about to spring upon him with a fero 
 cious bark, when, " Down, Norlingue, down ! " from
 
 368 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Tintin Calandro, brought him crouching to his feet 
 but still growling, and keeping his fierce eyes riveted 
 on the unknown visitor. 
 
 " My dear Tintin," said Lakanal, in a deprecating 
 tone, "you are no doubt surprised at seeing me," and 
 he presented his hand to greet his former school com 
 panion. Tintin did not take it, and replied, with 
 freezing gravity : " I am not surprised at anything. 
 Walk in "; and he led Lakanal through a long suite 
 of apartments. The pale light of the lantern now 
 and then fell on the grim figure of some warrior paint, 
 ed on the wall, or reproduced in sculptured marble, 
 that seemed to frown upon him. He grew almost in 
 dignant with himself. He was not superstitious, and 
 he attributed the illusion to fatigue and an over-ex 
 cited mind which, for the first time, he could not con 
 trol. At last they reached a door before which 
 Tintin Calandro stopped. "This is my apartment," 
 he said, " step in." The dog had followed, keeping 
 close to Lakanal, growling all the time, and showing 
 signs of increasing anger so that Tintin had to put 
 him out. " How strange ! " he muttered to himself. 
 "That animal has never before been ferocious and 
 disobedient. What wonderful instinct ! He must 
 know, as if intuitively, that an enemy of the house 
 has crossed its threshold." 
 
 When he returned, Lakanal was warming himself 
 by a large fire which burnt cheerfully in an antique 
 chimney. The apartment itself was vast and gloomy. 
 "This room is very cold," said Lakanal, rubbing his 
 hands and spreading them open to the flames. 
 
 " For mortal man, it is always cold in the presence 
 of spirits," replied Tintin, in a solemn tone, " and 
 spirits dwell here."
 
 A UBER T D USA YE T. 
 
 Lakanal felt colder, and approached closer to the 
 fire. A dead silence ensued. No sound was heard 
 except the monotonous, heavy tick of a large clock in 
 the corner and the chirping of a cricket on the hearth. 
 Was it a funeral dirge sung by the little insect to the 
 departing hour? It had a saddening effect on Laka- 
 nal's already depressed mind. But, bracing his 
 nerves, he said : " I have a message from the National 
 Convention to the keeper or warder of the Chateau de 
 Chantillyr 
 
 " Ha! ha! Is it so? Well, then, this bed-chamber 
 is not a proper place for its delivery," said Tintin 
 Calandro, with bitter irony. " Let us walk to the 
 reception hall. The ambassador of the National 
 Convention must be treated with due respect "; and, 
 taking his lantern, he conducted Lakanal, who follow 
 ed him mechanically and almost in a state of bewil 
 derment, to a lofty and immense apartment, where 
 every object was indistinct, for the feeble light of the 
 lantern only served to make " darkness visible." 
 Lakanal had gone through unusual emotions that 
 evening, and began to feel really sick almost faint 
 ing. He tottered to a large gothic arm-chair which 
 was not far from him. He was in the act of dropping 
 into it, when Tintin Calandro pushed him violently 
 aside. " Not there, not there ! " he cried fiercely. 
 " This is a sacred relic. It was the favorite seat of 
 the Great Conde. In my presence, none but one of 
 his race shall sit in it. By the living God, man, it is 
 fortunate that I put out that sagacious dog. He 
 would have throttled you in an instant, without my 
 being able to prevent it. Take that other chair; and 
 now, speak. But let me put this lantern between you 
 and me, so that we may see each other's honest faces." 
 16*
 
 370 
 
 A UBER T D USA YE T. 
 
 This rude treatment recalled Lakanal to his habitual 
 sternness of character, and almost roused him to 
 anger. " Sir," said he firmly to Tintin Calandro, 
 " the Prince of Cond6 having emigrated, this property 
 is confiscated. To-morrow, I will demand possession. 
 Here is the decree of the Convention, and here are 
 my credentials. The chateau is to be razed to the 
 ground." 
 
 Contrary to Lakanal's expectation, Tintin replied, 
 calmly: "It shall be done as you desire. You and 
 your colleagues of the Convention are but the tools 
 of Providence. I am prepared, for I knew that all 
 this was to happen." 
 
 " How ? " said the astonished Lakanal. 
 
 "You shall see. Not far from here, and appertain 
 ing to this domain, there is an old structure, called 
 the Chateau de la Reine Blanche, because it was the 
 favorite residence of Saint Louis and of his pious 
 mother, Blanche of Castile. It is beautifully situated 
 on the bank of a small sheet of water named the Lake of 
 Commelle. Shortly after I came here as keeper of Chan- 
 tilly for the Prince of Cond6, 1 heard of what you would 
 have treated with contempt, as a ridiculous supersti 
 tion. I was told that, for several centuries, it had 
 been implicitly believed among the peasantry of this 
 locality that if, on Christmas night, at twelve o'clock, 
 the moon being full, one should dare to row to the 
 middle of the lake, and, after addressing a short 
 prayer to his patron saint, should cast a stone into 
 the water, saying, ' Blessed be Queen Blanche,' he 
 would see the revelation of some future event clearly 
 conveyed to him, by looking steadfastly at the placid 
 surface of the lake. You know what a passion I have 
 always had, since my boyhood, for all such legends
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 371 
 
 and traditions of the middle ages. It so happened 
 that, on the first Christmas eve I spent here, all the 
 circumstances required by the tradition presented 
 themselves. The temperature was unusually mild, 
 the weather magnificent, and I determined to have a 
 pleasant rowing excursion on the lake, to enjoy a 
 view of the castle and of the surrounding scenery by 
 moonlight, whilst indulging 1 in dreamy reveries on 
 Saint Louis, Blanche of Castile, and the ancient 
 knights of France and Spain. But, whilst rowing 
 along the romantic banks of the lake, there came on 
 me an irresistible temptation to try the incantation 
 scene, and test the truth of the legend. Obedient to 
 the oar, my boat was soon in the middle of the lake, 
 and, just when I heard the bell of the town of Chan- 
 tilly strike twelve, I muttered a prayer to St. Augus- 
 tin, my patron, and flung a stone into the water, say 
 ing: 'Blessed be Queen Blanche!' Circles within 
 circles spread to the shore ; next, to my surprise, the 
 water around the boat hissed and foamed, and was 
 convulsed as if a storm had swept over it. But it 
 passed away, and the bosom of the lake became as 
 smooth as a glass. I gazed at it with intense curi 
 osity, and I saw this noble structure reflected with 
 the utmost distinctness, as if in a mirror. It seemed 
 to bask in the rays of the setting sun, and its two 
 stately towers never had appeared so majestic to me. 
 Suddenly, dark clouds gathered round them, with 
 lightning and thunder. I looked up ; the moon shone 
 undimmed in a serene sky. I looked down again ; 
 the clouds had grown darker and the lightnings more 
 vivid and threatening, when one of the towers was 
 struck, fell, and disappeared. In its place, I saw the 
 ditch of a fortress, which looked like Vincennes. In
 
 372 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 that ditch was the body of the Duke D'Enghien, shot 
 dead by a platoon of soldiers. Whilst I shrank with 
 horror from the ghastly spectacle, the other tower 
 was also crushed by a thunderbolt, and I saw nothing 
 but a bed-chamber, in which an old man had been 
 hung to the fastening iron bar of a window. It was 
 the Duke de Bourbon. Two murders ! and a race of 
 heroes was extinct ! But this was not all. There 
 came a man with a red cap and a red jacket, and a 
 spade in his hand. He dug a large grave, and buried 
 the two corpses, father and son, side by side. Do 
 you want to know who that man was? It was you, 
 Lakanal. Do you now understand how I was pre 
 pared for your mission here? Public executioner, do 
 thy duty. In God's name, raze this glorious manor 
 to the ground, since there will soon be no Cond6 to 
 be sheltered under its roof." 
 
 At that moment the shutters of a window were 
 thrown open with violence, as if by an irresistible gust 
 of wind, and there floated on the silent air, fearfully 
 distinct, the prolonged wailings of a female voice. It 
 was expressive of intense grief and agonizing in its 
 tones. It sounded as if coming from afar far away. 
 There was a sort of musical modulation in those 
 mournful accents, as they struck the ear like a wild 
 melody from the harp of despair. " Listen," said 
 Tintin Calandro, turning deadly pale, " listen. What 
 this is, I do not know. But thrice in my life have I 
 heard this voice of unearthly misery, and thrice it was 
 on the eve of a frightful calamity." This was too 
 much for Lakanal, after all the shocks he had received. 
 He shivered in all his limbs, and his teeth chattered. 
 " I see," said Tintin, " that the cold you complained 
 of has increased. Come to your room, where you will 
 find a good fire. It is next to mine. You need rest."
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 373 
 
 Three hours had elapsed since they had parted for 
 the night. Tintin Calandro, who could not sleep, was 
 pacipg his room in sad meditation, when a terrific 
 shriek was heard in the next one. He rushed in with 
 a light, and found Lakanal sitting upright in his bed, 
 and still asleep, but under the spell of some horrible 
 dream. He had not undressed himself ; and, wrapped 
 in his traveling cloak, he had sought repose on the 
 couch. His face expressed the wildest terror; his 
 eyes were open and glaring at some dreadful object. 
 " Enough, enough," he shrieked, tossing his arms 
 about as if to guard himself against the approach of 
 something he feared. " Enough ! Why this intermin 
 able procession of the dead, each one, as his appalling 
 form glides by, inflicting on me a more exquisite tor 
 ture ? And thou, O Prince, the greatest of thy race, 
 spare me ! I can not help it, I must execute my mis 
 sion. I have sworn an oath which no mortal man dares 
 disobey. Thou knowest what it is, and to whom I 
 have pledged my faith. Strike me not again with that 
 blade which has flashed on so many battle-fields. Its 
 touch burns me like intensified fire." And putting 
 both his hands on his eyes as a screen against what 
 they saw, he fell groaning on his pillow, and gradually 
 grew more quiet. 
 
 "O Heaven!" exclaimed Tintin Calandro. " If such 
 is the sleep of the wicked, then retribution begins in 
 this world. I will not wake him. May the chastise 
 ment which he finds in his own conscience be a timely 
 warning, and arrest him in his career of evil ! " 
 
 On the next morning the pale, wan, wasted look of 
 Lakanal spoke of the night which he had passed. It 
 made an appeal to the heart of Tintin Calandro. He 
 was mollified by the sight, and it was not without a 
 certain degree of kindness that he urged his unwel-
 
 374 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 come guest to take some refreshments, of which he 
 evidently stood in need. When they were seated at 
 the same table, the recollection of better days a^nd of 
 ties which had been painfully dissolved, came upon 
 him with a force which he could not resist. " Lak- 
 anal," he said, " it is hard to think that, being once so 
 closely bound together, we are now so wide apart. 
 Our broken friendship is one of the lesser ruins of that 
 hateful revolution which, alas, will leave so many 
 mightier ones in its fiery track of desolation. We are 
 now irreconcilable in thoughts, feelings, and convic 
 tions. Between us there is a mortal antagonism." 
 
 Lakanal. " I deplore it as much as you do. But 
 the revolution was no work of mine, although I lend 
 a helping hand to its development. It is the work of 
 ages of oppression and abuses. There are no revolu 
 tions where the people are happy." 
 
 Tintin Calandro. " Better be unhappy than crim 
 inal. But what do you want as a substitute for what 
 you repudiate?" 
 
 Lakanal. " A patriarchal government." 
 
 Tintin Calandro. " Then you must raise up again 
 what you have pulled down. What is a patriarchal 
 government, if not the absolute one of the father and 
 ruler of a family by divine and natural right? Abra 
 ham, Isaac, and Jacob were the despotic chiefs of their 
 tribe, whose property they disposed of as they pleased. 
 They had slaves, and their authority was supreme over 
 their own children even in matters of life and death, 
 with no other responsibility than unto God. What 
 nonsense, therefore, are you talking to me ? " 
 
 Lakanal. " I may not have been correct in the use 
 of the word, if taken in its strictly historical meaning. 
 I merely wanted to convey the idea that we, the party
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 375 
 
 of reform, desire to establish society on a basis of 
 equality for all men, by virtue of which no one shall 
 be forever at the foot of the ladder, and another at the 
 top." 
 
 Tintin Calandro. " The shortest way to accomplish 
 your purpose would be to prohibit ladders altogether. 
 But the question is, whether you could get along with 
 out ladders. For instance, it would be difficult to build 
 without them ; and civilization, you know, is choice 
 in her tastes, and requires a rather stately edifice for 
 a shelter." 
 
 Lakanal. " Ladders are indispensable in the social 
 state, and can not be looked upon with distrust, or 
 displeasure, if, among their occupants from top to bot 
 tom, there is a rotation by which they will frequently 
 change their respective positions." 
 
 Tintin Calandro, " Perhaps it would network well. 
 The one who hands up the stone at the foot, might 
 not, if at the top, know how to cement it in its proper 
 place with the required skill. The stone might tum 
 ble down and break the skull of somebody. But why 
 not simplify the matter? Instead of having rotation 
 among those who occupy the different steps of the 
 ladder, why not give that rotatory movement to the 
 ladder itself? Let it revolve on an axis like a wheel. 
 Thus there could be no permanent up, and no perma 
 nent down. The only difficulty would be, that such a 
 ladder might batter to the ground what it might come 
 in contact with, and be an instrument of demolition, 
 rather than construction." 
 
 Lakanal. " This is sarcastic rather than argumen 
 tative." 
 
 Tintin Calandro. " I do not agree to that. There 
 may be a good deal of condensed argument in a sar
 
 3 76 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 casm. But, since your colleagues and yourself are such 
 wonderful architects, let me hear furtherof your plans, 
 before I pass judgment. First, explain to me the rea 
 sons why you want to make a clean sweep of what is 
 already in existence, instead of modifying and improv 
 ing it, and thus saving materials?" 
 
 LakanaL " Look at the condition of the world. Have 
 not the masses, ever since nations existed, been work 
 ing for the benefit of the few ? The masses, composed 
 of mere beasts of labor and burden, toiling incessantly 
 for their masters ! The masses, made up of the in 
 numerable poor, starving to give more luxuries to a 
 handful of rich oppressors ! Should not this be 
 changed, if possible? See what are the chances in life 
 for the children of the disinherited many, compared 
 with the chances favoring the children of the chosen 
 few. Are they equal? No ! Why should this be so? 
 The source of all evil in civilized societies is the un 
 equal division of the goods of the earth. All the 
 crimes, all the miseries which afflict mankind, are at 
 tributable to the struggle eternally going on to acquire 
 wealth for personal use, or abuse, and for distinction. 
 Let there be no individual wealth, and the struggle 
 ceases, and with the struggle will also cease the crimes 
 and miseries. But how is this to be done? How are 
 the opulent to be reached ? They are protected by all 
 monarchical forms of government. Down, therefore, 
 with all monarchies ! It is a necessity, and it will be 
 an economy. Within the range of the shadow of 
 every church there is a conservative influence exer 
 cised on behalf of the throne and the hoardings of 
 Dives. Down, therefore, with the church ! It is an 
 other necessity, and will be another economy. Down 
 with the cross ! It is the emblem of resignation and
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 patient endurance ; it must not be kept before the 
 eyes of the masses, who are called upon to spurn 
 Caesar and pay no tribute but to their own treasury 
 Down with the Gospel, good as far as it goes in some 
 of its parts ! But in the whole it is insufficient ; it 
 preaches only to the soul ; we must also have a Cos- 
 pel for the body ; we are composed of spirit and mat 
 ter. Man must be his own god and master. Surely, 
 by this time, he is old enough to take care of himself." 
 
 Tintin Calandro. " What will you put in the place 
 of the crown and church ? " 
 
 Lakanal. "A republic of free-thinkers, of course, 
 with no salaried ministers of religion, and with no 
 endorsement or recommendation of any particular 
 creed. Every man will be his own priest and will 
 worship the Creator of the universe, when, how, and 
 where he may please. The French republic being 
 once established, all the monarchies of Europe will 
 crumble into dust before it, and there will be uni 
 versal fraternity among all the nations of the earth. 
 Then, standing armies will be abolished another 
 necessity of the future, and another great financial 
 economy. Besides, a standing army is a hierarchical 
 body, and is in the way of all leveling systems. 
 When there shall be no monarchy, no church, and no 
 standing army, then the rich and the poor will stand 
 front to front without any intermediate shield or bar 
 rier, and when they shall grapple for the final contest, 
 methinks that, which will be uppermost in the end, 
 is a question easily to be answered." 
 
 Tintin Calandro. " Aye, aye, the beginning of 
 wholesale robbery." 
 
 Lakanal. " It would be no robbery it would be 
 taking back what had been selfishly appropriated and
 
 378 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 abstracted from the common treasury of nature in 
 violation of her laws. The rich have no right to be 
 rich, because it is always at the expense of somebody 
 else. Civil society is nothing but a copartnership 
 between all its members on an equal footing. Every 
 one of them must bring to the general fund all his 
 physical and intellectual powers ; and the results of 
 the collective labor and industry of each must be dis 
 tributed faithfully among all the partners, for the 
 purpose of promoting their individual comfort and 
 happiness. It will be a mutual insurance company 
 against the dangers of life and the vicissitudes of for 
 tune. But what do I say? There would be no vicis 
 situdes of fortune. A nation would be a family of 
 brothers. Its head, father, or patriarch, would be the 
 government established by that family. It is, by-the- 
 by, what I meant when I used the word patriarchal 
 at the beginning of this conversation." 
 
 Tintin Calandro. " But this government, father, 
 or patriarch, who is to prescribe what every one, ac 
 cording to the measure of his capacity, is to do in 
 your community of socialists, and who is to distrib 
 ute among the mass, in person, or through his dele 
 gates, the fruit of the labor of its component parts, 
 will be a supreme authority. Where there is author 
 ity and therefore superiority on one side, there must 
 be obedience and inferiority on the other. Hence, 
 where will be your equality?" 
 
 Lakanal. " There will be no individual superior 
 ity, but a collective one. It will be the authority of 
 the mass exercised by its representative. It will be 
 like the volition of man making his fingers or feet act 
 at his pleasure for the service of his whole organiza 
 tion. Besides, the delegation of authority will be 
 transient and rotatory."
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Tint in Calandro. " Enough of this farrago ; I see 
 what you are driving at. A man will have no prop 
 erty, no wife, no children, no family of his own." 
 
 Lakanal. " Why not ? Let there be but one fam 
 ily the national family." 
 
 Tintin Calandro. " This will lead to a degree of 
 demoralization and servitude never heard of before." 
 
 Lakanal. " To secure to man the means of grati 
 fying all his physical wants can not lead to demorali 
 zation. To suppose it, is a slander against nature 
 itself. It is the reverse of the proposition which is 
 true. Man, being made easy on that point the sat 
 isfaction of his physical wants will be left free to 
 attend to his moral and intellectual improvement. 
 So much for the demoralization you apprehend. As 
 to what you call servitude, if servitude at all, it will 
 be like the servitude of the universe to God, its cen 
 tral point ; it will be the servitude of man in his in 
 dividuality to man in the aggregate of the human 
 fraction to the nation of which it is a part." 
 
 Tintin Calandro. "These are high-sounding words, 
 which, no doubt, will elicit shouts of applause from the 
 multitudinous and ignorant rabble ; but, when you 
 shall attempt to carry into practice your theoretical 
 plans in all their details, I am sure that you will meet 
 with insurmountable obstacles of which you have not 
 thought." 
 
 Lakanal. " No ! We have not thought of those 
 details and those difficulties. It is not time yet. 
 First, we must do away with the monarchy, the 
 church, and the army next, we must inaugurate a 
 republic and then, when in a republic, the rich alone 
 shall remain to be disposed of, I am sure that the 
 poor will find some way to establish practically, on a 
 solid foundation, that liberty, fraternity, and equality
 
 3 80 * UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 which they require, and will work out effectively 
 some plan to maintain forever the duration of that 
 new system which appears to you so monstrous, and 
 impossible in its execution. But, to the business of 
 the hour. Ibeg you to lead me to some public house 
 in a neighboring town or village, where I shall estab 
 lish my headquarters whilst executing my mission. 
 We shall return with the mayor, in whose presence I 
 shall take possession of the Chdteau de Chant illy and 
 relieve you of your responsibilities." 
 
 Tintin Calandro took his hat and cane, and said : 
 " I am ready." 
 
 On their entering the town of Chantilly, they were 
 met by a boy in rags, who, in a whining tone, begged 
 for himself and his starving mother at home. As no 
 attention was paid to his doleful story, he pertina 
 ciously followed the two gentlemen, until Tintin Ca 
 landro stopped in front of a butcher's stall. " Lak- 
 anal," he said with caustic playfulness, " I think that 
 you have too long turned a deaf ear to your little 
 brother, and that you ought to share with him some 
 of the coin which you, no doubt, have in your human 
 itarian pocket. It would not be an uncalled-for ap 
 plication of your doctrine of an equal division of the 
 goods of mother earth." 
 
 Lakanal replied not, but bought a loaf of bread and 
 a few pounds of beef, which he gave to the little beg 
 gar, who, instead of going away with the provisions, 
 seemed to hesitate and to look with apprehension 
 toward the extremity of the short street in which 
 they were. "What is the matter?" inquired Lak 
 anal, " and why don't you run fast, to satisfy the 
 hunger of your starving mother?" 
 
 " I am afraid," answered the boy.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 381 
 
 " Afraid of what ? " 
 
 " I am afraid of big Joe, whom I saw just now be 
 hind yonder wall. He will beat me and take away 
 all that you gave." 
 
 "I think," said Tintin Calandro, laughing, "that 
 you ought, Lakanal, to lose no time in preaching in 
 your best style to big Joe; for he seems disposed not 
 merely to share liberally in what others have, but even 
 to take it all to himself. I fear that you will need a 
 little patriarchal flogging and hanging in your new 
 republic, to help moral suasion in enforcing the ob 
 servance of universal communism and fraternity." 
 
 When they reached the only tavern which the 
 town possessed, Lakanal noticed that its sign was a 
 sword with this inscription : " a I'epec de Conde" He 
 frowned, and, after having bespoken an apartment, 
 he said roughly to the tavern-keeper, who had obsequi 
 ously come out, hat in hand, to salute him : " In the 
 name of the National Convention, of which I am the 
 representative, I order you to strike out that inscrip 
 tion." " Yes, citizen," replied the poor fellow, trem 
 bling all over, " but what shall I put in its place? " 
 
 " Put, h I'epec du peuple. There should be no other 
 sword honored in France than the sword of the people." 
 
 " Bravo ! " exclaimed Tintin Calandro. " I hope 
 that history will not forget to relate that one of the 
 great achievements of the National Convention of 
 France was to change the name of a tavern." 
 
 The tavern-keeper conducted Tintin Calandro and 
 Lakanal to the chamber destined to the latter, and 
 retired. That chamber was on the first floor, and its 
 windows opened on the street. At the moment when 
 Lakanal was saying to Tintin Calandro, " Now let us 
 call on the mayor of the town," a newsboy was heard
 
 382 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 shouting at the top of his shrill voice : " Who wants 
 a journal with the latest intelligence? News! news! 
 Return from England of the Princess de Lamballe, 
 the friend of the Queen. Her arrest and incarceration 
 at the Abbaye" 
 
 " Good God ! " exclaimed Tintin Calandro, " she 
 must be saved, cost what may ! Lakanal," he said, 
 turning to that individual, who, it must be confessed, 
 showed, in his habitually harsh-looking face, that he 
 sympathized with the intense distress in which he saw 
 the friend of his youth, " help me in setting free the 
 Princess de Lamballe and in removing her to foreign 
 parts. I will engage on her behalf that she will never 
 come back any more. Grant me that, and I will for 
 give you all that you have done. I will love you as 
 before nay, I will be your slave, your dog, if you 
 please." Lakanal looked at him with compassion, but 
 shook his head negatively. " I throw myself at your 
 feet," continued Tintin Calandro. " I will kiss them, 
 and kiss the dust of the floor on which you stand, if 
 you grant me the boon for which I implore you. I 
 have never asked you for any favor. It is the first, 
 and shall be the last," and, suiting his action to his 
 words, he embraced the knees of Lakanal. 
 
 The stern tribune the man of stone was moved. 
 He struggled to raise Tintin from his supplicating 
 posture, saying: "You overrate my power and influ 
 ence. I can not open the doors of the prison of the 
 Princess de Lamballe." 
 
 " Can not Robespierre do it ? " asked Tintin Calan 
 dro, gasping for breath. 
 
 " Yes, he could." 
 
 " Then, she is saved ! " exclaimed Tintin in a trans- 
 port of joy, " for I once heard Robespierre say, Lak-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YET. 383 
 
 nal, that he was so circumstanced toward you, that, 
 should you ever ask him for anything, he was bound 
 to grant it, if he could, and that he had himself given 
 you that assurance. Is it so?" 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " Save the Princess de Lamballe." 
 
 " I dare not. I can not." 
 
 " Life for life, Lakanal. I saved yours once. 1 
 never would have reminded you of it, but for the ex 
 tremity to which I am reduced. Grant me the life I 
 sue for, and your debt to me is cancelled." 
 
 Lakanal grasped the hands of Tintin Calandro, 
 which he shook convulsively. " Spare me," he said, 
 " the agony of this horrible scene. My heart bleeds, 
 but your prayer can not be granted. Oh ! do not look 
 at me thus, but listen. I am bound hand and foot by 
 mysterious bonds which I can not break. I belong 
 to a secret society, and have taken the terrific oath 
 which it imposes. That society has undertaken to rev 
 olutionize the world with every element of destruc 
 tion. Implicit obedience must be paid to its man 
 dates. All that it dooms, be it of flesh and bone, or 
 stone and mortar, must perish. The Princess de Lam 
 balle is one of the doomed she first, to pave the way 
 and as an experiment then the King and Queen. 
 According to orders, there will be to-day a tremend 
 ous rising of the populace in Paris, and all the inmates 
 of the Abbaye and other prisons are to be massa 
 cred without an exception. It is, as you see, too 
 late for me to interfere, even if I could." 
 
 With a shriek of horror Tintin Calandro darted 
 from the room, and rushed to a stable which was 
 within the court-yard of the tavern, and in which post 
 horses were kept. He flung himself on one of them
 
 384 AUBERT D UBA YE T. 
 
 and galloped frantically on the high-road to Paris, 
 changing at every post station his wearied horse for a 
 fresh one. The distance is about thirty-five miles ; 
 he overcame it in two hours and a half. When in 
 sight of the city, his too hard-ridden horse fell from 
 exhaustion. Dismounted, but unconscious of fatigue, 
 Tintin Calandro pushed desperately forward among 
 a crowd of intensely excited people, who, like a hot 
 stream of lava, were pouring into Paris. " The Jaco 
 bins were up and doing," they said. " There was a 
 gigantic and bloody insurrection. The prisons had 
 been broken open, and the massacre of their, inmates 
 had begun." Each one was striving which should be 
 the foremost to see what was going on. Tintin Ca- 
 landro's feverish anxiety seemed to endow him with 
 superhuman strength, and he ran, rather than walked, 
 with unabated speed. When he reached the quay on 
 the Seine in front of the Louvre, his further advance 
 was stopped by a dense mass of men and women yell 
 ing like demons, and carrying aloft, stuck on a long 
 pike, the gory head of a woman the head of the Prin 
 cess de Lamballe. He looked at that ghastly object, 
 uttered a piercing shriek, and fled a raving maniac. 
 
 On the next day, the work of demolition had be 
 gun at the Chdtean de C/tantilly, and when the sun 
 went down, one of the towers had fallen with a crash 
 heard far and wide, and was answered by the long 
 howl of a dog. It was Norlingue, thus named after 
 one of the victories of the great Cond Norlingue, 
 who had, at first sight, exhibited such antipathy 
 against Lakanal. That howl was repeated incessantly 
 during the whole night, and in the morning, poor 
 Norlingue was found lying dead on the ruins of the 
 tower.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THERESA CABARRUS AND TALLIEN FALL AND 
 DEATH OF ROBESPIERRE. 
 
 EVERY day was demonstrating the appropriate 
 ness of the famous comparison of the French revolution 
 with Saturn devouring his children, and there was no 
 Cybele watching over the monstrous appetite of the 
 unnatural parent, to cheat the cannibalism of the 
 near-sighted deity by the substitution of a swaddled 
 stone for flesh and blood. On the contrary, it hap 
 pened that, more than once, there was some woman 
 who, either voluntarily or involuntarily, directly or 
 indirectly, assisted and encouraged the settled deter 
 mination of the god to feed on his own family. 
 Charlotte Corday had dispatched Marat. The women 
 of the fish market and of the sewers of Paris had 
 contributed, as much as their male associates, to the 
 fall of the Girondists, by intimidating the Convention 
 and stimulating Robespierre and his party. Danton, 
 the Jupiter of the revolution, had not escaped like 
 his prototype the jaws of Saturn. He, who had 
 flung the head of a king at the feet of all the kings 
 of Europe as the gauntlet of defiance he who had 
 shouted that " to dare, dare again, and always dare," 
 was the sure way to success, had listened to the ap 
 peals of one whom he tenderly loved. She had said : 
 " Let there be no more bloodshed "; she had con 
 quered the heart and the will of the thunderer. He 
 17 (385)
 
 386 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 could not resist that voice ; he yielded, and refused a 
 seat among the sanguinary Committee of Public Safe 
 ty. It was taken as a censure, and to censure the 
 Committee of Public Safety, was to engage in a duel 
 with death. He had gone farther: he had, in the 
 presence of Robespierre, let fall some words of blame 
 against the ultra-revolutionists. It was construed 
 into a decided act of hostility and reaction. What 
 was still more fatal to him, his wife had, with pardon 
 able imprudence, withdrawn him from the scene of 
 action, and carried him away from Paris to Arcis sur 
 Aube, his native place, where the disarmed Titan had 
 reposed several weeks in the bosom of conjugal love. 
 When he returned to his seat in the Convention, he 
 was lost. All had been prepared for his rum. He 
 was accused of a conspiracy against the republic, 
 judged, condemned, and executed without being per 
 mitted to defend himself. He had been warned of 
 the danger, and had replied : " They will not dare." 
 Strange that he should have forgotten that he was the 
 apostle of daring, and had formed disciples who had 
 bettered the instruction ! There is a sort of political 
 infatuation which is striking in the uniformity of its 
 effects, and yet no ambition has ever been able to 
 guard itself against its contagious influence. The 
 hope of being an exception always soars above the 
 warning given by the undeniable evidence resulting 
 from historical precedents. What law more invaria 
 ble than the one by which it is decreed, that the orig 
 inal mover or abettor of a revolution seldom or never 
 profits by it ? There comes a time when the demon 
 who has been evoked and enslaved, breaks his bonds 
 and tears the magician to pieces. There comes the 
 inevitable hour when the leader discovers that he who
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 387 
 
 precedes the Juggernaut car of revolution, does it 
 after the fashion of yoked oxen that he is driven, 
 not driving and that when he stops, or does not go 
 fast enough, he is trampled upon. In the Cabinet of 
 the many-headed tyrant, whoever accepts the portfolio 
 of the ministry of proscription is sure to wield the 
 sceptre of power. But, whenever he attempts to per 
 form an act of humanity, he falls never to rise again. 
 Revolutions acknowledge no masters ; they are never 
 controlled by the will of man. Onward they move, 
 crushing every obstacle, until they stop of their own 
 accord, or from sheer fatigue, or from the necessity 
 of digesting the food with which they have been 
 gorged. It is only then, at the appointed hour, that, 
 out of the smoke and dust where he had remained 
 concealed from view, appears on the scene the man 
 of destiny, who calls himself Caesar, Cromwell, Bona 
 parte. It matters not what name it is. 
 
 Robespierre committed the same fault as Danton, 
 whom, in consequence of it, he had sent to the scaf 
 fold. He was forty days without appearing in the 
 Committee of Public Safety, or in the Convention, 
 and thus lost more of his influence than he supposed. 
 He thought that the dictatorship which he had de 
 sired for himself alone, and not with colleagues, was 
 at last within his grasp. He wished to establish on 
 clean ground the foundations of popular sovereignty, 
 of which he fondly hoped to be the representative, 
 after having swept out of sight the corpses and blood 
 which began to stink in his nostrils, as soon as he had 
 concluded that they were no longer necessary. There 
 fore, he did not want to appear to participate in the 
 butcheries daily ordered by the Committee of Public 
 Safety. But before beginning to carry his secret in.
 
 388 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 tentions into effect, he desired to get rid of some mem 
 bers of the Convention whose opposition he feared, 
 and he was plotting their ruin. They were not so 
 blind as not to discover it, and thus a death struggle 
 ensued between those irreconcilable antagonists. A 
 woman was destined to have considerable influence in 
 shaping its final issue. But before she took a part in 
 it, another woman had attempted to deliver France 
 from Robespierre. She presented herself at his dom 
 icile, armed with two knives. Being arrested, she 
 avowed her intention, and said " that she wanted to 
 see of what stuff a tyrant was made." She was twen 
 ty years old, and her name was Cecile Renault. 
 Robespierre had escaped that imitator of Charlotte 
 Corday ; he had yet to meet a more artful and dan 
 gerous enemy in Theresa Cabarrus. 
 
 This woman was born in Spain. Her romantic ca 
 reer ended in her dying Princess de Chimay the wife 
 of Joseph de Caraman, a descendant from a family in 
 France to which there was no superior save the royal 
 one ; he was a Spanish Grandee, the first peer of 
 Hainault, and a chamberlain to the King of the Neth 
 erlands. Her father, who was a Frenchman by birth 
 and distinguished for his abilities, particularly as a 
 financier, had introduced into Spain the system of 
 banking, and, for his public services, had been created 
 by Charles IV. a Count of Castile. He took care 
 to give his daughter the most brilliant education, 
 and when she was only sixteen years of age, he pre 
 sented her, in 1788, to the court of France, whose 
 expiring glories she witnessed and whose last orna 
 ment she became. Her beauty and her graces were 
 unrivaled, and she possessed that rare endowment 
 which makes beauty perfect and resistless that in-
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 3 89 
 
 describable charm which can not be analyzed and is 
 called fascination. She spoke three languages with 
 equal facility, accuracy, and elegance, and, what was 
 still more attractive for the frivolous, she sang and 
 danced divinely. Two nations of antiquity had be 
 come the fashion in France ; everything was to be 
 a la Greeque, or a la Romaine. Theresa Cabarrus had 
 to choose a character in harmony with the mania of 
 the epoch. She did so; but it was not Lucretia, 
 Porcia, or Cornelia whom she adopted for a model ; 
 it was Lais, Phryne, or rather Aspasia. She would 
 become the priestess of the doctrine of free love, but 
 with restricted affinities which would be permitted to 
 develop themselves only in favor of the privileged 
 few who dwell on the high Olympus of society. She 
 would sacrifice chastity and virtue to wealth and 
 power, without which she could not live, but it would 
 be with the condescension and refinement of a god 
 dess, and not with the shameless facility of a courte 
 san. Thus she, in early youth, sketched for herself 
 the part she determined to act in the future, and she 
 performed it with never-failing consistency. She was 
 an extraordinary compound, and she exhibited, 
 throughout her long life, the phenomenon of an ex 
 cellent and energetic heart entirely controlled by the 
 vicious logic of a splendid intellect. Her first step 
 on the stage where she was to shine, was taken with 
 mature deliberation and a frigidity of calculation with 
 which no impulse or inclination was permitted to in 
 terfere. Thus, whilst royalty and nobility were still 
 in existence and in the enjoyment of their privileges, 
 although in imminent peril, she selected for her hus 
 band, among a crowd of worshipers, a man old 
 enough to be her father. It is true that he was still
 
 390 
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 handsome ; that he was gay and witty. But probably 
 the main consideration for her was, that he was rich, 
 and Marquis de Fontenay. It followed that the new 
 marquise became what she expected the rage in all 
 the salons of Paris. She breathed like a deity in an 
 atmosphere of adoration, and in her temple incessant 
 ly burned the incense offered by all those who by 
 their talents or genius were the pride of France. 
 
 After four years of marriage, Theresa Cabarrus dis 
 covered that she had not been properly mated. Her 
 coronet of marquise had fallen to a very low discount, 
 and the wealth of her husband had vanished. She 
 concluded that the affinities which had led her to his 
 arms were things also of the past, and she contem 
 plated a divorce under a recent law that permitted a 
 separation between husband and wife to take place 
 almost at the will of either party. But the life of 
 Mr. de Fontenay was threatened ; he had to fly, and 
 she could not make up her mind, under such circum 
 stances, to abandon her proscribed husband. It was 
 resolved that they should seek an asylum in Spain, 
 and they had reached Bordeaux, when an event hap 
 pened which changed the destinies of Theresa. Three 
 hundred royalists of that city, ruined by the revolu 
 tion, were anxious to escape with their lives, if noth 
 ing else, and had taken their passage on board of an 
 English ship in the harbor, but, at the last moment, 
 the captain had refused to sail, because the whole of 
 the passage-money had not been paid. When Theresa 
 heard this, she was so fired with indignation as not to 
 listen to the remonstrances of prudent friends. She 
 instantly went on board, and gave the captain the 
 three thousand francs which he claimed. He offered 
 a receipt. " I do not care for it," she said. " Only
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 39 1 
 
 give me the list of your passengers, that I may know 
 the names of those I have saved." The list was deliv 
 ered to her, and with it she returned, proud and happy. 
 Unfortunately, this act of generosity became known, 
 and those who had been balked of their prey went to 
 work to ascertain who was the beautiful woman that 
 had dared to save aristocrats. It seems that they 
 were successful ; for, the next day, when she went to 
 the theatre, she was hooted by a mob and rudely 
 handled. But her spirit was equal to the occasion. 
 " Look at my cockade," she said. " I am a patriot, 
 as you see. I assure you that you have been misin 
 formed. The persons who sailed yesterday are not 
 enemies of the revolution." " We shall judge for 
 ourselves," shouted one of the crowd. " Give me the 
 list of the passengers, for we know that you have it in 
 your bosom." " Out with it," cried another. " It is 
 useless to deny it. You see that we have good spies." 
 A third one threw himself on her, and tried to force 
 the concealed list out of the place where it was report 
 ed to be. She repulsed him with all her strength, 
 and, as he still held in his grasp one of her hands, she 
 took the paper out of her bosom with the other which 
 was free, and tore it with her teeth, exclaiming : " I 
 will not give it ; you may kill me first." At that mo 
 ment, a man stepped through the crowd, and with an 
 imperative sign of the hand ordered them to disperse. 
 It was Tallien, the proconsul, a member of the Na 
 tional Convention, who, with two associates, Isabeau 
 and Lacombe, had been sent to Bordeaux to purge 
 that city of its impure blood. Lacombe had already 
 issued an order for the arrest of citoyenne Fontenay, 
 suspected of a want of patriotism. The order was 
 obeyed, and Theresa, instead of the pleasure that she
 
 392 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 expected at the theatre, had the mortification of being 
 carried to prison. 
 
 Under the triumvirate of Tallien, Isabeau, and La- 
 combe at Bordeaux, to be in prison and accused of a 
 want of patriotism, was to be with the prospect of 
 being decapitated in twenty-four hours. Fortunately 
 for Theresa, she had in Paris, once before, met Tal 
 lien, on whom her beauty had exercised the same fas 
 cination which it did on everybody else. He had 
 hurried to visit her after her arrest, apparently as an 
 inflexible judge, and came out a devoted lover, deter 
 mined to sacrifice everything to his passion, if neces 
 sary. When he stepped out of the prison, the saga 
 cious jailer hastened to take pen and ink, and wrpte 
 to Robespierre : " Everybody betrays the republic. 
 The citizen Tallien pardons aristocrats." The pro 
 consul had not pardoned an aristocrat, but the love 
 liest woman of her time an enchantress as powerful 
 as the Armida of Tasso. The penetration of the 
 turnkey had not been at fault. Theresa Cabarrus was 
 free. Tallien, at that time, was young, handsome, 
 full of energy and eloquence. He had acted a con 
 spicuous part in the Convention, had dared to beard 
 Robespierre himself at the tribune, and was backed by 
 reliable and numerous friends. He was one of the 
 most influential leaders of the " Montague" ; his star 
 was culminating over the horizon, and there was no 
 telling how high was the zenith which it might reach. 
 For the present, he was a proconsul of the terrible 
 republic. He was armed with immense power, and 
 unlimited wealth was at his disposal, for plunder was 
 the order of the day, and he had nothing to do but to 
 stretch his hands and take largely in the dark out of 
 the well-filled exchequer of confiscation. Clearly
 
 A UBER T -D USA YE T. 
 
 393 
 
 there were irresistible affinities in Theresa which har 
 monized with those of Tallien. The result of the in 
 terview proves it. Mr. de Fontenay was permitted to 
 cross the Pyrenees in safety, but alone. " Remain," 
 had Tallien said to Theresa, " and be the Egeria of 
 the Montagne, as Madam Roland was of the Gironde! 
 " I know nothing of the Montagne, or of the Gironde" 
 was the reply. " I know only of the people. Let me 
 serve them." So, they were united in some sort of 
 Jacobin wedlock, and the ci-devant marquise became 
 a plebeian and a patriot. Tallien had gallantly ten 
 dered to her for a residence the magnificent hotel 
 which he occupied on the Place de Llechafaud, as it 
 was called, because it was provided with a guillotine, 
 which was in such active operation that this Place de 
 Lechafaud might have been considered as decorated 
 with a never-failing fountain a fountain of blood. 
 Theresa, who had no taste for such a sight, refused 
 the offer. " Then," said Tallien, " I will come to 
 your own house." " No. It is not you, but the guil 
 lotine, that must move"; and the guillotine did move 
 away. This wonderful woman soon subjugated the 
 two colleagues of her new husband, Isabeau the tiger, 
 and Lacombe the wolf, who, spell-bound under the 
 charm with which she had fascinated them, forgot to 
 fill up daily, as usual, the death lists, and the guillotine 
 became an idle and useless instrument. 
 
 Theresa was again in possession of what was indis 
 pensable to her existence pomp and power. She 
 was again a goddess, and one far superior to the other 
 divinities of the day such as the Goddess of Liberty 
 and Reason for she was proclaimed the Goddess of 
 Pardon. Since his connection with Theresa, the stern 
 proconsul had ceased to affect to live with republican 
 17*
 
 394 -* UnER T D USA YE T. 
 
 simplicity. The Spartan had become a Persian satrap. 
 He appeared in public with her, sometimes driving in 
 an open carriage, in which her exquisite form was set 
 off to advantage by Grecian draperies. At other 
 times, in the costume of an Amazon, she dashed 
 through the streets, and, stopping where she saw a 
 crowd of people, addressed them in language which 
 produced the wildest enthusiasm. She literally 
 reigned over the populace ; all delighted to hear her, 
 with the mellifluous voice of a siren, apotheosize 
 liberty, and preach a republic of universal peace and 
 charity. But, when she was within the perfumed pre 
 cincts of her boudoir, she encouraged Tallien in the 
 famous de grand seigneur which were natural to him, 
 and which he had perhaps inherited, for he was report 
 ed to be the illegitimate son of a nobleman. It is not 
 astonishing, therefore, that an observer of what was 
 going on should have addressed Robespierre in these 
 words : " There are singular political details about La 
 Fontenay, and Bordeaux seems to be a labyrinth of 
 intrigue and plunder. We must restore the people 
 to the sincere love of the real virtues of the republic." 
 So, Tallien was recalled, and Bordeaux was to be 
 subjected to the observance of the " real virtues of 
 the republic " which meant that heads were again to 
 be tossed about, thick and fast, like balls in a tennis- 
 yard. Little did Robespierre dream how fatal to 
 himself would be that order of recall. Such are the 
 vain schemes of man ! When the hour of adversity, 
 sent by fate, approaches, it throws forward a shadow 
 which blinds the eyes of the doomed. Instead of 
 clipping the wings of Tallien, as he had intended, he 
 gave them the opportunity of gaining more strength 
 and amplitude ; for, on his return, Tallien was elected
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 395 
 
 president of the Convention for a fortnight. This 
 was a bitter pill for Robespierre. He was surprised 
 at such a success ; but what surprised him still more, 
 was to find that his former pupil was no longer man 
 ageable. That pupil had tasted the sweets of author 
 ity ; he had become bolder and more eloquent ; the 
 cub had grown into a fully-developed beast of prey, 
 with a genuine roar, a horrific row of teeth, a huge, 
 angry mane, and paws exhibiting claws which were 
 not to be despised. In fact, Tallien had become im 
 patient of the curb and irrepressible. This was not to 
 be wondered at, for it was the effect of his natural 
 temper, and he had an ambitious woman at his elbow. 
 He and she regretted Bordeaux, and had a secret 
 grudge against Robespierre. Probably at her instiga 
 tion, Tallien seemed to have taken pleasure in teasing 
 and irritating his more experienced adversary, and 
 more than one lance was broken between them in de 
 bate. That was sufficient to make Robespierre re 
 solve to have the head of Tallien. In the meanwhile, 
 the wheels of the revolution went on grinding faster 
 than they had ever done before, and the edge of the 
 guillotine became blunted, so much was it tasked to 
 fill up with heads the insatiable basket of liberty and 
 fraternity. This butchery was carried so far, that 
 Camille Desmoulins, in a daily paper which he pub 
 lished under the title of Le Vieux Cordelier, had 
 said, mockingly : " Yesterday, there was a miracle in 
 Paris. A man actually died in his bed." This 
 Camille Desmoulins is an authority which can not be 
 suspected, for he had styled himself " Attorney-Gen 
 eral of the Lamp-post "; and when, a little later, he 
 was put on his trial and interrogated as to his age, he 
 answered : " I am of the same age with the sans-
 
 396 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 culotte Jesus at the time of His death. I am thirty, 
 three years old." 
 
 In his efforts to acquire strength and popularity, 
 Tallien was actively supported by her who had as 
 sumed to be his wife, and who had taken his name. 
 She danced the Carmagnole with the red cap on her 
 head, paraded in public promenades in transparent 
 costumes, and appeared in the salons dn beau monde, 
 escorted by a host of admirers, with her naked feet 
 reposing on sandals and adorned on each toe with 
 precious stones. She led the fashion, when full- 
 dress meant almost the absence of all drapery, such, 
 for instance, as we might suppose the appearance of 
 the statue of the Medicis statue of Venus, placed 
 under a gossamer veil, merely to increase the volup 
 tuousness of visible and embellished nudity. She 
 even took a bolder step. Appearing before the Na 
 tional Convention, she presented to that body a fluent 
 and lengthy exposition of her republican and evan 
 gelizing views and sentiments, beginning in these 
 words: "Citizens and representatives, as morality is 
 more than ever the order of the day," and she went 
 on, entreating that women, now adorned with the 
 noble title of citoyennes, might be allowed to find 
 some work to do for the State in training the young 
 and alleviating the sufferings of the poor and the sick. 
 She was warmly applauded. The former marquise 
 was evidently playing a farce, but Robespierre thought 
 that it was time to put a stop to such foolish exhibi 
 tions. He seemed to have taken a serious view of 
 them ; for he desired the Committee of Public Safety, 
 of which he was a member, to issue an order of arrest 
 against her. Its phraseology was peculiar. She was 
 designated as " one, Cabarrus by name, the daughter
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 397 
 
 of a Spanish banker, and the wife of one Fontenay 
 by name, ex-member of the parliament of Paris." It 
 must be observed that, in this document, she was not 
 recognized as Madam Tallien. This order was kept 
 secret for several days. It was executed in a striking 
 manner. 
 
 Theresa, although she had sent over the Pyrenees 
 the Marquis de Fontenay, had retained possession of 
 his ckdteau. It was situated in the environs of Paris, 
 and was called Fontenay aux roses, a very appropriate 
 name for the residence of its beautiful proprietoress, 
 or occupant. There she was fond of giving enter 
 tainments, where splendor vied with taste. Uncon 
 scious of the danger which threatened her, she had 
 prepared a fete, which was to surpass all the preceding 
 ones. It was to be in honor of Robespierre. She 
 had a special object in view, certainly deserving of 
 praise, and which was, to captivate him, and to cajole 
 him into consenting to the inauguration of a policy 
 of clemency and moderation. On the day fixed, 
 Robespierre appeared with his favorite blue coat and 
 his perpetual bouquet. He was, of course, the guest 
 among the guests, the one on whom her smiles and 
 powers of fascination were concentrated. She re 
 lated to him, in tones which would have melted iron, 
 what triumphs clemency had obtained in Bordeaux, 
 and she begged that the same experiment be made in 
 Paris and all over France. Robespierre was moved 
 to tears. He declared that the god of liberty was 
 no longer athirst, that the prison doors should be 
 opened, and that the reign of peace and fraternal 
 love should begin. She embraced him enthusiastic 
 ally and they danced together. When he retired, she, 
 with a burst of joyful exultation, said to her friends
 
 398 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 who gathered round her : " We are saved. He is the 
 most just of men." It is easy to imagine the general 
 congratulations and rejoicings that ensued, but they 
 were suddenly changed into consternation, when gen 
 darmes broke in and showed their commission, signed 
 by Robespierre, for the arrest of the hostess. It was 
 dramatic ; it produced what the French call a tableau, 
 and, years after, was actually put on the stage. 
 
 The plan of Robespierre was a crafty one. He 
 wanted a pretext for the arrest of Tallien himself, 
 and he had probably calculated that, by endangering 
 the life of the woman he adored, he might drive him 
 into some imprudent action, or that Tallien would 
 sue for her release, which he would grant on condi 
 tions by which his adversary would be tamed down, 
 and which would be guaranties for his future conduct. 
 If, on the contrary, Tallien should remain passive, it 
 was to be presumed that Theresa would resent his 
 not risking everything in her defense. In that case, 
 Robespierre supposed that she might be tempted to 
 say something that would serve his purposes. But 
 Tallien saw the trap, and, although frantic with ap 
 prehension, did nothing which the spies of Robes 
 pierre could seize upon as a sufficient ground for ac 
 cusation and death. Defeated in that quarter, the 
 wily monster approached Theresa and offered her life 
 and liberty, provided she signed a declaration of Tal- 
 lien's treason against the republic at Bordeaux. She 
 nobly replied : " I am only twenty years old, but I 
 would rather die twenty times." So, she remained in 
 her dungeon at La Force for awhile, and was afterward 
 transferred to Les Cannes, where she had at least the 
 consolation of being in distinguished company, for 
 she was incarcerated in the same cell with Josephine
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 399 
 
 Beauharnais, the future Empress of France, and with 
 the Duchess of Aiguillon. For some reason or other 
 she was taken back to La Force. In the meantime, 
 Tallien, unable to effect her release, and trembling 
 lest every hour might prove her last, watched the 
 daily processions of victims. Never had they been 
 so frequent, and never had there been so many women 
 in the death carts. The bodies of countless citizens 
 were thrown into pits full of quick-lime, and it was 
 said that, in the vicinity of Paris, there was a tannery 
 for human skins. It was the "reign of terror." 
 
 Theresa was pining away in doubt and anxiety, 
 when, one day, her rough jailer, upon whom some 
 mysterious influence seems to have acted, said to her 
 in gentler tones than usual : " Your health is declin 
 ing visibly. I will assume the responsibility of allow 
 ing you to inhale a little fresh air," and, in the even 
 ing, he took her to a small court of the prison, where 
 she was left alone. She was pacing it up and down, 
 when a stone suddenly fell at her feet. She in 
 stantly picked it up, and saw that a scrap of paper 
 was attached to it. She was afraid of unfolding the 
 note ; invisible eyes might be fixed on her. She re 
 tired to her cell, but there darkness prevailed. She 
 had to wait until dawn. How long that night was ! 
 At last there was light, and, with a palpitating heart, 
 she deciphered these words from Tallien : " I am 
 watching over you. Every evening you will go into 
 the court at nine, and I shall be near you." For 
 eight days she was permitted to comply with that 
 secret summons, and had the comfort of receiving 
 the assurance, by some token or other, of the pres 
 ence of a loving heart close to her outside the wall. 
 On the ninth day, the jailer told her that her health
 
 40O A UBER T D USA YE T. 
 
 was restored, and that she needed no more fresh air. 
 She contrived, however, to send a message to Tallien. 
 Although a silent one, it was eloquent. One morn 
 ing, when he awoke, he saw glittering on a table by 
 his bed a small Spanish dagger which belonged to 
 Theresa Cabarrus, and which had been deposited 
 there during the night by some unknown and unseen 
 hand. " I understand thy meaning," he exclaimed ; 
 and, after pressing it to his lips, he put it within the 
 breast of his coat and went out. The first object he 
 saw was appalling. He stood facing four cartloads 
 of women on their way to the scaffold. He gazed 
 at them with sickening eagerness. Theresa was not 
 among them. Great was the relief, momentary as it 
 was, and he went his way. As chance would have it, 
 he met Robespierre and David, the painter, walking 
 arm in arm. He informed the former that he had a 
 request to address to him. " It is granted, if pos 
 sible," answered Robespierre with that air of benig 
 nity which he sometimes assumed. " Well, then," 
 continued Tallien, " I entreat you to stop this horrid 
 spectacle of women being put to death for political 
 offenses. It is unworthy of the republic to strike 
 such weak and defenseless beings. There is one in 
 particular who is unjustly arrested, and whom I wish 
 to plead for." The piercing gray eyes of Robespierre 
 were instantly fixed on the speaker, and a mocking 
 smile played on his thin lips. Tallien's courage failed, 
 he hesitated, he could not utter the name he had in 
 mind, and he said : " It is the citoyenne Josephine 
 Beauharnais." " I do not know the citoyenne Jose 
 phine Beauharnais," replied Robespierre dryly. " Be 
 sides, no one is arrested illegally." Tallien became 
 more pressing. " That the French republic," he said,
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 401 
 
 " should fear women is contemptible, almost laugh 
 able. It would be an eternal disgrace to shed their 
 blood on account of their opinions. Europe is 
 shocked." 
 
 " I do not care a straw for Europe," retorted Robes 
 pierre, with that peculiar hissing intonation which 
 his voice always assumed when he began to be excited. 
 " But, as to women, it is different. You think that 
 they are not dangerous. It shows that you do not 
 know them. They are all our enemies ; they love noth 
 ing but the orgies of royalty. It is by a woman that 
 the republic will perish "; and he turned on his heels. 
 
 "Is this your last word?" exclaimed Tallien. 
 " Well, you have said it, cowardly tyrant. It is by a 
 woman that your republic will perish ! " and he de 
 parted. When he was out of sight and hearing, he 
 took Theresa's dagger from his bosom, and swore on 
 it to save her or die. 
 
 In the afternoon of that day, Tallien, Barras, Fr6- 
 ron, Barrere, Isabeau, Collot D'Herbois, and Carnot, 
 the weather being intensely hot, for it was in July, 
 were dining together outside of a cafe, under the trees 
 in the Elysian Fields. By a curious coincidence, 
 Robespierre and his brother, with David, St. Just, and 
 Lebas, all of them his most devoted adherents, were 
 also dining at the same establishment, but in an upper 
 room, and with closed doors. The evening having 
 5>.olen on them, and dusk falling, both parties left the 
 Elysian Fields almost at the same time ; and, by an 
 other strange coincidence, found themselves face to 
 face on the Place de la Revolution, close by the statue 
 of Liberty. Barras, without consulting his friends, 
 stepped to Robespierre and thus addressed him: "I 
 have the right to speak the truth to you at the foot
 
 4O2 
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 of this statue. We have established a reign of terror 
 by which we only frighten one another. Let us cease 
 such child's play, and be men." 
 
 " Why not," replied Robespierre, coldly. " I make 
 no one afraid, and I am afraid of nobody." 
 
 " Then," broke in Tallien, with ill-restrained im 
 petuosity, " if you really wish to make no one afraid, 
 why do you gorge the guillotine as you do? Why 
 are not the prisons thrown open ? Why are those who 
 were your friends treated as enemies? " 
 
 Barras, interposing, endeavored to pacify him and 
 recommended more moderation in language and man 
 ner. " You and Robespierre," he said, " have both 
 done too much for your country to forget it, and to 
 permit yourselves to sacrifice the common cause to 
 private interests and selfish passions." 
 
 David chimed in : "I agree to that. Yes, let us 
 unite to save the vessel of State, but let Robespierre 
 remain at the helm." 
 
 " I ask nothing else," added St. Just. " I have 
 already declared repeatedly in our Jacobin Clubs that 
 the committees, in whose hands the government now 
 is, must, to insure the safety of the republic, be re 
 placed by one man of genius, patriotism, and energy, 
 as dictator, and that that man is Robespierre, the only 
 one capable of saving us, for you know that the mo 
 ment for action has come." 
 
 " As to myself," said Robespierre, with an air of as 
 much modesty as he could put on, " I am ready to 
 make way for my betters, but it is only true republi 
 cans who must be the masters of the situation." 
 
 "Are you not absolute master everywhere?" ex 
 claimed Tallien, angrily. " When I sayjw, I mean the 
 Montague"
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 403 
 
 "No," rejoined Robespierre, "it is just there that 
 I find most traitors." 
 
 "Name them," cried Barras. "We have heard that 
 you have a list. Show it to us." 
 
 " Here it is," said Robespierre, drawing a paper 
 out of his pocket. 
 
 " Let it be torn now without reading it," hastened 
 to say Freron. " We are all too good republicans to 
 suspect one another. Let us swear to suppress the 
 guillotine ! " 
 
 " No," replied Robespierre. " Since the paper has 
 been called for, it must be read, and read aloud." And 
 he handed it over to Barras. 
 
 The first name on the death-list was Tallien's ; then 
 came Barras himself, Freron, and others. There was 
 in this action of Robespierre an audacity of frankness 
 which was almost sublime, and which struck them 
 dumb with astonishment. A dead silence ensued 
 the silence of stupor. Tallien was the first to break 
 it. " Since you have shown us our names," he said, 
 with deliberate and marked emphasis, "you mean to 
 efface them, because you believe that union would be 
 strength. You invite us, I suppose, to reconciliation 
 and peace, and not to dissension and mortal combat. 
 Therefore, let us have your programme ; and let us 
 see if we can accept it." 
 
 Robespierre's answer was a long speech on the criti 
 cal state of affairs, and a proposition to take Tallien 
 and his friends into confidence, if they would unite 
 with him in effecting the proscription of his enemies. 
 Tallien thought the moment favorable to let out what 
 he had most at heart, and begged the liberty of the 
 citoyenne Fontenay, born Theresa Cabarrus. 
 
 "Never! Never!" was the reply. "For her you
 
 404 A UBER T D USA YE T. 
 
 betrayed the republic at Bordeaux. She leads you 
 like a child." 
 
 " Ha! Ha! is it so? Know then that the citoyenne 
 Fontenay is my wife, and I will have her set free be 
 fore the sun goes down twice. If you must have 
 blood, take our heads," shouted Tallien, breaking 
 away from the group. He had become desperate. 
 When he reached his home he was in a state of mind 
 to dare all that man can dare. He certainly needed 
 no stimulant, and yet he found a powerful one in a 
 note which was handed to him, and which ran thus : 
 
 AT LA FORCE, 7th thermidor. 
 THE citoyenne FONTENAY TO THE citoyen TALLIEN. 
 The administrator of police has just been here. He came 
 to inform me that to-morrow I am to be tried ; that is, car 
 ried to the scaffold. This is very little in harmony with the 
 dream which I had last night. Robespierre existed no longer, 
 and the prisons were open. But thanks to your arrant cow 
 ardice, there will soon be left in France nobody capable of 
 realizing it. 
 
 Tallien wrote back to her: " Be as prudent as I am 
 courageous. Pray, keep a cool head on your shoul 
 ders." 
 
 Robespierre had never been known to act from im 
 pulse. It is probable, therefore, that when he showed 
 his death list to Tallien and Barras, he had calcu 
 lated that they would attribute his frankness to the 
 security which he felt in the possession of resistless 
 power, and that they would be intimidated into a 
 reconciliation and submission, which they would be 
 lieve him capable of accepting with the same frank 
 ness he had shown in braving them. But he com 
 mitted a fatal error, if these were his motives. He 
 had staked too much on one card ; the game was too
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 405 
 
 high ; the losers would inevitably have to pay in the 
 end with their heads. He forgot that he was too well 
 known to be trusted by his adversaries as to any pro 
 posed compact. He had shown them that the contest 
 could not be safely prolonged. Time was precious, 
 and the most was to be made of it. Hence, his op 
 ponents resolved that the next two days should de 
 termine which side should be the loser, or the gainer. 
 There is a secret instinct which tells us that, when 
 men have to put their fate on the cast of a die, it is the 
 boldest hand which shakes the box that has the best 
 chance to win. That night, the next day, and the 
 following night, every member of the Convention, 
 known or supposed to be hostile to Robespierre, was 
 seen and tampered with, and when dawn broke on the 
 Qth thermidor, everything was ready for the onslaught. 
 The plan had been digested, discussed, and adopted. 
 Every one was to be at his post and knew what he 
 had to do. 
 
 On that great historical day, early in the morning, 
 there seemed to be something fatidical in the air. 
 Excited groups had assembled in the streets, and 
 crowds had gathered in the public places. There was 
 a general agitation without any known cause. Some 
 event was expected to happen, but why, and where, 
 and what was it ? These questions were not answered, 
 and yet everybody looked and acted as if the answer 
 would not long be deferred. In the meantime, the 
 hour for the meeting of the Convention had come. 
 That body had rarely been so well attended by its 
 members. An atmosphere of grim solemnity seemed 
 to have penetrated into the hall of their deliberations 
 and to have enveloped the whole assembly. It was 
 observed that many of them looked pale and jaded.
 
 406 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Robespierre was the first to ascend the tribune. He 
 described his own services and zeal for the State, and 
 declared that he had the intention to propose meas 
 ures which alone could save the country. He said : 
 "I see in many no inclination to be guided by fixed 
 principles, no disposition to follow the path of justice, 
 which the enemies of the republic have tried to ob 
 struct. If I am to conceal these truths, I prefer that 
 the cup of hemlock be brought to me. My reason, if 
 not my heart, is on the eve of having doubts on the 
 possible existence of that virtuous republic of which 
 I had designed the plan myself." " You are the Cat 
 iline of the republic," shouted Tallien. " Down with 
 the tyrant ! " cried many voices. " It is to men who 
 are pure, and not to brigands, that I address myself," 
 continued Robespierre. He was interrupted by in 
 creasing vociferations. Gathering all his strength, 
 and clinging to the tribune, from which his adversaries 
 struggled to pull him notwithstanding the opposition 
 of his partisans, he turned to the president of the 
 Assembly, and said in a loud tone : " For the last 
 time, president of assassins, I demand to be heard." 
 "No! no!" shouted numerous voices, "he shall not 
 be heard ; the traitor and tyrant never allowed any 
 one of his adversaries to be heard. Measure for meas 
 ure." Robespierre continued his efforts to speak, 
 until he was completely exhausted, and until nothing 
 but a gurgling sound or death-rattle issued from his 
 throat. " It is the blood of Danton which chokes 
 you," shouted a member. " Ha ! is it Danton you 
 wish to avenge ? " gasped Robespierre. " Down with 
 the tyrant, down with the would-be dictator ! " was 
 heard on all sides. Tallien rushed toward the trib 
 une, and, brandishing Theresa's small Spanish weapon
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 407 
 
 cried : " I have armed myself with this dagger to 
 pierce the heart of this Cromwell, if the Convention 
 does not decree his arrest." The Assembly tumultu- 
 ously voted that decree, accompanied with the shouts 
 of, "Long live the republic!" "The republic!" 
 echoed Robespierre, rousing himself, " it is lost, for 
 brigands triumph." He, with his brother, with St. 
 Just and several others who had been comprehended 
 in the same order of arrest, were conducted as pris 
 oners to the city hall. He was rescued, however, by 
 General Henriot, the commander-in-chief of the na 
 tional guards of Paris, and advised by St. Just and 
 others to march against the Convention and disperse 
 them. He replied: "Such a step would be the pro 
 ceeding of a tyrant. I will not expose myself to shed 
 the blood of my fellow-citizens to avenge my own 
 cause. My duty, after all, is to conform to the will 
 of the sovereign people. They are free to defend or 
 to abandon me. Should the last be the case, I shall 
 know how to die like Tiberius Gracchus." 
 
 In public affairs, the greatest rogues invariably talk 
 the loudest about virtue, and the most abominable 
 tyrants, about liberty and popular sovereignty. On 
 this occasion, the monstrous hypocrisy of Robespierre 
 overleaped the mark and caused his ruin. He waited, 
 and refused to act, no doubt to assume the position 
 of one saved by the people, and not by his own exer 
 tions. It would have been better and more convenient 
 for him to have the Convention butchered by others 
 whilst he folded his arms, and to be proclaimed dicta 
 tor, notwithstanding his protest, and by the force of 
 circumstances. But his partisans, being deserted by 
 their chief, who gave no order, vacillated, hesitated, 
 disagreed, and knew not what to do. In supreme
 
 4 o8 * UBEB T D UBA YE T. 
 
 crises, to -hesitate is to be lost. It is what happened 
 in this emergency. The golden opportunity presented 
 itself to Robespierre, and he did not clutch it with a 
 firm and resolute hand. It gave breathing-time to 
 his enemies in the Convention. They acted with the 
 vigor which had been lacking in him, and history re 
 lates the rest. But let it be remarked that Tallien 
 was a true prophet when he said to Robespierre : 
 " Your republic will perish by a woman." It was 
 Theresa Cabarrus. Robespierre was no less prophetic 
 when he declared that the republic no matter what 
 republic it was, his, or that of any other man would 
 also be destroyed by the same instrument ; for, by a 
 woman the republic of Tallien and Barras perished in 
 its turn. Its death-warrant was signed when Barras, 
 the president of the French Directory, issued, under 
 the influence of a woman, that commission which gave 
 to her young husband the command of the army of 
 Italy. That woman was Josephine Beauharnais. 
 
 But that event was yet in the future. For the pres 
 ent, Tallien and Barras had triumphed, and Theresa 
 Cabarrus became again the idol of the Parisian society. 
 The "reign of terror" was over, and the reign of pleas 
 ure began. People were tired of the Spartan black 
 broth in public, when there was no real sobriety in 
 private, and of the ridiculous affectation of Roman 
 virtue, when there was not a particle of virtue of any 
 kind. Life is no longer in danger ; let us make the 
 most of it, was the general feeling, and the whole pop 
 ulation fell to eating, drinking, and dancing with a 
 sort of rage. " Sullen despair was gone," says a writer, 
 " and now it was : let us seek new ways of killing time 
 and spending money, and accordingly, in this reac 
 tion, all Paris danced danced as if it never could
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 409 
 
 make up for the lost time; danced over graves; 
 danced with crape on the sleeve at the ' ball of the 
 victims] as it was called, where the ground for ad 
 mission was the loss of a relative by the guillotine. 
 From the highest to the lowest, every man, woman, and 
 child seemed seized with a dancing mania a lucra 
 tive time for fiddlers, one would suppose, when there 
 were no fewer than six hundred and forty-four places 
 for dancing in Paris. And what dancing ! No longer 
 stately minuets, country-dances, or quadrilles, but the 
 German waltz, in which women, far too scantily clad 
 for former notions of decency, were whirled about in 
 their partners' arms till they almost dropped from ex 
 haustion." License was carried to its extremest limit, 
 and its exigencies beggared the fertility of invention 
 of the most depraved imagination, amidst the satur 
 nalia of this saltatory insanity. 
 
 Thus the republic had become a bacchanalian revel, 
 a carnival of bedlamites, and a school for dancing, 
 which was soon to be changed into a military one 
 under the rod of an imperial despotism. 
 
 18
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE LEADERS OF MEN AND THEIR WEARINESS OF 
 SPIRIT. 
 
 I NOW proceed to relate the impressions which 
 some of the events I have described had produced in 
 America. Washington was on a visit to Mount Ver- 
 non, when he received a letter from Gouverneur Mor 
 ris, dated on the 23d of October, 1792, which awoke 
 his benevolent sympathy in favor of the unfortunate 
 Louis XVI., the ancient friend and ally of America. 
 " You will have seen," wrote Morris, " that the King 
 is accused of high crimes and misdemeanors, but I 
 verily believe that he wished sincerely for his nation 
 the enjoyment of the utmost degree of liberty, which 
 their situation and circumstances will permit. He 
 wished for a good constitution, but, unhappily, he had 
 not the means to obtain it, or if he had, he was 
 thwarted by those about him. What may be his fate 
 God only knows, but history informs us that the pas 
 sage of dethroned monarchs is short from the prison 
 to the grave." 
 
 In the meantime, the arms of revolutionary France 
 were triumphant. " Towns fall before them without 
 a blow," wrote Gouverneur Morris, "and the declara 
 tion of rights produces an effect equal at least to the 
 trumpets of Joshua. But I do not draw a favorable 
 augury from this success. We must observe the civil, 
 moral, religious, and political institutions of a coun- 
 (410)
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 411 
 
 try. These have a steady and lasting effect, and 
 these only. Since I have been here, I have seen the 
 worship of many idols, but little of the true God. I 
 have seen many of those idols broken, and some of 
 them beaten to the dust. I have seen the late con 
 stitution, in one short year, admired as a stupendous 
 monument of human wisdom, and ridiculed as an 
 egregious production of folly and vice. I wish much, 
 very much, the happiness of this inconstant people. 
 I love them. I feel grateful for their efforts in our 
 cause, and I consider the establishment of a good 
 constitution here, as the principal means, under divine 
 Providence, of extending the blessings of freedom to 
 the many millions of my fellow-men who groan in 
 bondage on the continent of Europe. But I do not 
 greatly indulge the flattering illusions of hope, be 
 cause I do not yet perceive that reformation of morals 
 without which liberty is but an empty sound." 
 
 Washington shared all the forebodings of Morris, 
 and had even apprehensions as to the state of affairs 
 at home. He thought there was too great a disposi 
 tion to run fast and to innovate. He said to Jeffer 
 son : " When men put a machine into motion, it is 
 impossible for them to stop it exactly where they 
 would choose, or to say where it will stop. The 
 constitution we have is an excellent one, if we can 
 keep it where it is." * How prophetic ! 
 
 The mills of a revolution work fast. The mon 
 archy, the King, the Queen, the nobility, the clergy 
 of France, and Heaven knows what else, had been 
 ground into powder, and the force that kept the 
 wheels still a-going was not hydrological power, but 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 170, vol. v.
 
 4 I2 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 constant streams of a more precious liquid, which 
 flowed as abundantly as water. 
 
 " When will savages be satisfied with blood ? " ex 
 claimed John Adams, when he heard of the death of 
 Marie Antoinette.* 
 
 Not so with Jefferson, who, from Monticello, wrote 
 to his friend, Tenck Coxe, in Paris : " Your letters 
 give a comfortable view of French affairs, and later 
 events seem to confirm it. Over the Foreign Powers 
 I am confident that they will triumph ultimately, and 
 I can not but hope that that triumph, and the con 
 sequent disgrace of the invading tyrants, is destined, 
 in the order of events, to kindle the wrath of Europe 
 against those who have dared to embroil them in such 
 wickedness, and to bring at length, kings, nobles, and 
 priests to the scaffolds which they have been so long 
 deluging with human blood. I am still warm when 
 ever I think of these scoundrels, though I do it as 
 seldom as I can, preferring infinitely to contemplate 
 the tranquil growth of my lucern and potatoes. I 
 have so completely withdrawn myself from these 
 spectacles of misrule and usurpation, that I do not 
 take a single newspaper, nor read one in a month ; 
 and I feel myself infinitely the happier for it." f 
 
 How painful must have been the sacrifice made by 
 the retired philosopher, when, solely for the good of 
 his fellow-citizens, and not for the gratification of any 
 ambitious aspirations, he allowed himself to be torn 
 away from the " contemplation of the tranquil growth 
 of his lucern and potatoes," to become during eight 
 years President of the United States ! 
 
 * John Adams to his wife. 
 
 t Jefferson's Works, vol. iv., p. 104.
 
 A USER T D UBA YET. 413 
 
 But we must return to General Aubert Dubayet. 
 After the terrible events which had brought on the 
 destruction of the Princess de Lamballe, and of the 
 King and Queen, he had missed Tintin Calandro and 
 looked round for him in vain ; nobody had been able 
 to tell him anything about the object of his inquiries. 
 At last, when the most diligent search had been fruit 
 less, he accidentally found him in a lunatic asylum. 
 Dubayet, taking charge of the poor maniac, and 
 thinking that a change of scene would benefit him, 
 had dispatched him to Louisiana with a letter for 
 Labbe, Viel, his old preceptor, who kept a school in 
 the county of Opelousas, and officiated as the priest 
 to whose spiritual care had been committed that dis 
 tant settlement, where, in those days, there were al 
 most as many Indians as whites and blacks. In that 
 wilderness Tintin Calandro had ever since remained, 
 after having partly recovered his reason, until, on the 
 departure of L'abbe Viel for France, he was, on the 
 recommendation of that ecclesiastic, appointed by the 
 bishop of New Orleans guardian and sexton of the 
 St. Louis Cemetery, in that city, in the discharge of 
 which functions he has been exhibited in a preceding 
 work " Fernando de Lemos." 
 
 General Dubayet had been glad to escape the ter 
 rific scenes enacted in Paris in 1793, in consequence 
 of his having been intrusted at that time with the de 
 fense of Mayence, on the Rhine. But, after having 
 shown great courage and skill, he had been obliged to 
 surrender. He was arrested, accused of treason, in 
 capacity, or cowardice ; for the patriots would not ad 
 mit that Frenchmen could be beaten fairly. He was, 
 however, honorably acquitted. Not satisfied with 
 that, he presented himself before the Convention,
 
 414 ^ UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 begged to be heard, and exonerated himself and his 
 troops so completely from all blame, that he received 
 a fraternal embrace from the president of that body 
 by virtue of a formal decree. After having been 
 comforted with this theatrical exhibition of good-will 
 and confidence, he was sent to La Vendee, at the head 
 of the garrison which had defended Mayence in vain. 
 Fortune did not smile on him at first, for at Clisson 
 he met the terrible Cathelineau, who kept the word 
 he had pledged to the Jacobins when he defied them 
 and Marat in their den, and who, on this occasion, 
 crushed the forces of the republic, capturing eight 
 hundred men with all the artillery and baggage. 
 Cathelineau, on account of his piety, had been sur- 
 named by the peasants " The Saint of Anjou " a 
 province in which most of his exploits had been per 
 formed. 
 
 After having repaired his losses, General Dubayet 
 was confronting another army of Vendeans, when he 
 received a dispatch removing him from command on 
 the eve of a battle for which all his preparations had 
 been made. Quietly putting the dispatch in his 
 pocket, to be considered and attended to in due time, 
 he fought and won the battle. After a complete vic 
 tory he departed for Paris. His laurels did not pre 
 vent him from being arrested by order of the Conven 
 tion. Tried a second time, he was again acquitted, 
 and returned to La Vendee where, under General 
 Hoche, he contributed to the pacification of the 
 province and behaved with humanity toward the in 
 surgents, who were called brigands, and had been 
 treated as such by their adversaries in that dreadful 
 civil war. Promoted to the grade of General of di 
 vision, he was appointed commander-in-chief with his
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 4 ! 5 
 
 headquarters at Cherbourg. He acted with great 
 energy, re-established communication between Le 
 Mans, Alengon, Angers, and La F15che, and several 
 times obtained considerable advantages over the ene 
 mies of the republic. At one time, he was preparing 
 to -march on Paris to put down an insurrection against 
 the National Convention, when he heard of the tri 
 umph of that body. Constitutions were fast succeed 
 ing constitutions, to gratify the impatient fickleness 
 of the people, who were not long satisfied with what 
 had pleased them at first. A new constitution having 
 been adopted in 1795, Aubert Dubayet was appoint 
 ed under it minister of war. 
 
 One day, when he was complaining to Gouverneur 
 Morris of the vexations which besieged him, the 
 American minister said : " Be comforted, my friend. 
 If our noble and great Washington is constantly at 
 tacked by censorious tongues and pens which are ever 
 ready to cavil at every measure of his administration, 
 why should you be fretted by unjust opposition on 
 the part of your countrymen? It is mournfully sug 
 gestive of the soreness and weariness of heart with 
 which he sees his conscientious policy misunderstood, 
 or misrepresented, and himself becoming an object 
 of party hostility, when, for the first time perhaps in 
 his life, he is betrayed into expressions of bitter irony ; 
 for this is what he writes to me : ' The affairs of this 
 country can not go wrong ; there are so many watch 
 ful guardians of them, and such infallible guides, that 
 no one is at a loss for a director at every turn.' " 
 
 Washington's weariness of spirit went on increas 
 ing. Not only had he to contend with calumnies and 
 factious opposition, but also with actual insurrections, 
 which struck him with horror at the bare idea of
 
 4 16 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 shedding the blood of his countrymen in a civil war. 
 Witnessing the last days of the expiring Roman re 
 public, and determined not to survive the loss of lib 
 erty, Brutus, when putting an end to his life, exclaim 
 ed : " O virtue, thou art but a name ! " Washington, 
 in the golden age of the American republic which he 
 had founded, was so disgusted with the turbulence of 
 party, with the wickedness of human passions, with 
 the want of truth and patriotism conspicuous around 
 him, and with the difficulties which selfish interests 
 and corruption threw in the way of one who would 
 undeviatingly lead his country to respectability, 
 wealth, and happiness, that he exclaimed : " The post 
 of honor is a private station." Such were the con 
 clusions of Brutus and Washington, although sepa 
 rated by an interval of almost two thousand years ! 
 If such is to be the bitter experience of the best men 
 who engage in political struggles, what matters it 
 under what form of government we sweat and groan, 
 draw water and hew wood, during our brief existence ! 
 Marat had died by the dagger of Charlotte Corday, 
 Robespierre on the scaffold, and the " reign of terror " 
 was over. Aubert Dubayet lent himself to the hope 
 that the new republic of France had seen its darkest 
 days and passed its most dangerous ordeal. When 
 ever he could steal an hour from the time required 
 for the fulfilment of his arduous duties as sec 
 retary of war, he would call on his friend, Gouver- 
 neur Morris, with whom he loved to talk of the 
 destinies of France and America, which he con 
 sidered as bound together by the strong ties of 
 past services, of similar institutions, and reciprocal 
 attachment and esteem. One day, he found Morris 
 overwhelmed with mortification and shame. He but
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 too soon ascertained the cause of such feelings, for 
 the American minister showed him a copy of a dis 
 patch which had been found on board of a French 
 privateer captured by a British frigate, and which had 
 been forwarded to the Cabinet of St. James. Lord 
 Grenville had transmitted the original to Mr. Ham 
 mond, the British minister at Philadelphia, through 
 whose hands it had reached Washington's. That dis 
 patch was from Fauchet, the French minister to the 
 United States, and addressed to his Government. It 
 strongly implicated the integrity of Randolph, who 
 was then secretary of state. After relating the break 
 ing out of the Western, or whisky insurrection, as it 
 was called, and the proclamation of Washington on 
 that event, Fauchet went on saying:* 
 
 " Two or three days before the proclamation was 
 published, and, of course, before the Cabinet had re 
 solved on the measures to be taken, the secretary of 
 state came to my house. All his countenance was 
 grief. He requested of me a private conversa 
 tion. ' It is all over,' he said to me : ' a civil war is 
 about to ravage our unhappy country. Four men, 
 by their talents, their influence, and their energy, 
 may save it. But, debtors of English merchants, they 
 will be deprived of their liberty if they take the smallest 
 step. Could you lend them instantaneously funds to 
 shelter them from English prosecution?' This in 
 quiry astonished me much. It was impossible for me 
 to give a satisfactory answer. You know my want of 
 power and deficiency in pecuniary means. Thus, with 
 some thousands of dollars, the republic could have 
 decided on civil war, or peace. Thus the consciences 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 222, vol. v. 
 1 8*
 
 4 1 8 * UBERT DUB A YE T. 
 
 of the pretended patriots of America have already their 
 price. What will be the old age of this Government, 
 if it is thus already decrepit ? " 
 
 Aubcrt Dubayet dropped the paper and shed tears. 
 "Ah!" said Morris, "well may you weep with me 
 over such revelations ; and how much more will you 
 grieve, when I tell you that, publicly, before the face 
 of the whole world, in the councils of the nation, in 
 the daily journals of the country for which he has 
 done so much, Washington's military and political 
 character* is attacked with equal violence, and it is 
 proclaimed that he is totally destitute of merit, either 
 as a soldier or a statesman. He is charged with 
 having violated the constitution in negotiating a 
 treaty without the previous advice of the Senate, and 
 with having embraced within that treaty subjects exclu 
 sively belonging to the Legislature, for which an im 
 peachment is publicly suggested. Nay, more, it is as 
 serted that he has drawn from the treasury, for his 
 private use, more than the salary annexed to his 
 office. Thus, in broad daylight, Washington is ac 
 cused of being a thief, not by obscure scribblers, 
 slandering him from the dark corners where they are 
 hidden, but by conspicuous leaders who are backed 
 by a powerful and numerous party. O God ! is this 
 the beginning of our republic ? If it is born in cor 
 ruption, and if it is possible to publish with impunity 
 in the midst of an ungrateful, or at least indifferent, 
 people, that we have a Dick Turpin at our head, what 
 will be the morals of our successors in one hundred 
 years, and what will our boasted institutions be 
 worth?" 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 226, vol. v.
 
 A UBERT DUBA YET. 
 
 Washington himself was amazed at the wide-spread 
 hostility exhibited against him, and wrote as follows 
 to Jefferson : 
 
 " Truly,* until the last year or two, I had no con 
 ception that parties would, or even could, go the 
 length I have been witness to ; nor did I believe until 
 lately, that it was within -the bounds of probability, 
 hardly within those of possibility, that, whilst I was 
 using my utmost exertions to establish a national 
 character of our own, independent, as far as our obli 
 gations and sense of justice would permit, of every 
 nation of the earth, and wished, by steering a steady 
 course, to preserve this country from the horrors of a 
 desolating war, I should be accused of being the 
 enemy of one nation (the French) and subject to the 
 influence of another (the English) ; and, to prove it, 
 that every act of my administration would be tort 
 ured, and the grossest and most insidious misrepre 
 sentations of them made, by giving one side only 
 of a subject, and that, too, in such exaggerated and 
 indecent terms as could scarcely be applied to a Nero, 
 a notorious defaulter, or even to a common pickpocket. 
 But enough of this ; I have already gone further in 
 the expression of my feelings than I intended." 
 
 This letter must have had the effect of producing a 
 twinge in Jefferson's toe ; for he had lately written to 
 Monroe : " Republicanism must lie on its oars, resign 
 the vessel to its pilot,f and themselves to what course 
 he thinks best for them." Thus, according to Jeffer 
 son's declaration, the best thing that republicanism 
 could do under Washington's administration was to 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 241, vol. v. 
 
 t General Washington, President of the United States.
 
 420 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 " lie on its oars," and wait for better times. If so, 
 Washington was not a republican ; and if not, he was 
 not true to the institutions he had founded ; and if 
 not true, then he was a perjured hypocrite. Could 
 anything more disgraceful be intimated against him ? 
 It is needful, indeed, for the virtuous and the good in 
 this world, particularly those who aim at being the 
 benefactors of their race, to keep their eyes fixed on 
 Calvary. The awful lesson will support their courage 
 and maintain their steadiness of purpose.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A QUARREL, AND ALMOST A WAR, BETWEEN THE 
 TWO SISTER REPUBLICS DEATH OF AUBERT 
 DUBAYET. 
 
 MEANWHILE, Monroe had succeeded Morris, as 
 minister plenipotentiary of the United States in 
 Paris, and the latter had departed from that city for 
 London. This was a painful blow to Dubayet, who 
 was warmly attached to him. He needed such a 
 friend, for whom he had no secret, and in whom he 
 had found the consolations of sincere sympathy and 
 the salutary advice of experience and sound judg 
 ment, on more than one occasion. As minister of 
 war his relations had become unpleasant with Carnot, 
 the president of the Committee of Public Safety. He 
 therefore resigned, and was appointed ambassador to 
 the Ottoman Porte at Constantinople. He departed 
 on the 26th of March, 1796, taking with him a nu 
 merous suite and a company of light artillery that 
 was to engage in the service of Turkey. Before his 
 leaving Paris, he had read with much satisfaction a 
 letter written by Washington to Monroe, and in which 
 the former said : 
 
 " My conduct in public and in private life, as it 
 relates to the important struggle in which France is 
 engaged against England, has been uniform from the 
 beginning of it, and may be summed up in a few 
 
 (421)
 
 4 22 A UBER T D USA YE T. 
 
 words. I have always wished well to the French 
 revolution ; I have always given it as my decided 
 opinion, that no nation has a right to intermeddle 
 in the national concerns of another; that every one 
 had a right to form and adopt whatever government 
 they liked best to live under themselves ; and that, if 
 this country could, consistently with its engagements, 
 maintain a strict neutrality, and thereby preserve 
 peace, it was bound to do so by motives of policy, 
 interest, and every other consideration that ought to 
 actuate a people situated as we are, already deeply in 
 debt, and in a convalescent state from the struggle 
 we have been engaged in ourselves. 
 
 " On these principles I have steadily and uniformly 
 proceeded, bidding defiance to calumnies calculated 
 to sow the seeds of discontent in the French nation, 
 and to excite their belief of an influence possessed 
 by Great Britain in the councils of this country, than 
 which nothing is more unfounded and injurious. "* 
 
 So thoroughly sick was Washington of the atmos 
 phere in which he lived, and so disgusted was he with 
 being at the head of the great republic he had founded 
 for the happiness of others, if not for his own, that he 
 began to count the days and hours that would inter 
 vene between his term of office and his retirement, 
 for he had refused to serve more than two constitu 
 tional terms in his exalted office. He wrote to his 
 old fellow-soldier and political coadjutor, Henry 
 Knox : " To the wearied traveler who sees a resting- 
 place, and is bending his body to lean thereon, I now 
 compare myself; but to be suffered to do this in 
 peace, is too much to be endured by some. To mis- 
 
 * Washington's Writings, vol. xi., p. 164.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 42 3 
 
 represent my motives, to reprobate my politics, and 
 to weaken the confidence which has been reposed in 
 my administration, are objects which can not be re 
 linquished by those who will be satisfied with noth 
 ing short of a change in our political system." 
 
 How mournful is such language from such a man ! 
 What a deep sigh of discouragement is here breathed 
 by the wounded spirit within ! 
 
 Poor Dubayet ! He himself had become the vic 
 tim of a sombre melancholy which he could not 
 overcome, and, on the day before he departed, he 
 overheard a dialogue between two boyish ragamuffins 
 in the streets of Paris, which ought to have excited 
 hir mirth, but which, strange to say, increased the 
 weight of the load oppressing his heart. It seemed 
 to be such a mockery' of what had been the idols of 
 his youth, at least in theory, and the objects of his 
 generous hopes ! 
 
 " Tom," said Nat, " what is that republic of which 
 people talk so much?" 
 
 Tom. " Fool ! Don't you know ? It is wild Lucy, 
 the circus girl, whom Robespierre promenaded 
 through the streets with a red cap on her head, a 
 red flag in her hand, and whom he called the mother 
 of reason. As you see, the republic is no great 
 thing." 
 
 Nat. " That was not the name. It was the god 
 dess of reason." 
 
 Tom. " What is the goddess of reason ? " 
 
 Nat. " I don't know." 
 
 Tom. " Then don't talk nonsense. I say it was 
 the mother of reason." 
 
 Nat. " Very well. I don't care. But what is 
 liberty?"
 
 424 
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 Tom. " It is, that we can do what we please with 
 out being whipped by papa and mamma." 
 
 Nat. "Hurrah for liberty! But what signifies 
 equality?" 
 
 Tom. " It signifies, that we can break, when we 
 choose, into old Mathew's orchard, and that you have 
 the right to steal as many of his apples as I can, al 
 though you are not as big and as smart as I am." 
 
 Nat. " Hurrah for equality! But what is general 
 fraternity?" 
 
 Tom. " What a goose you are ! It is that you and 
 I are brothers." 
 
 Nat. " How can that be, when our fathers and 
 mothers are not the same? " 
 
 Tom. " That is their fault, and their noses ought 
 to be tweaked for such a mistake. No matter, we are 
 brothers, although they don't know it. The republic 
 says so, and when I have no soup at home, which 
 often happens, I will go and eat half of yours." 
 
 Nat. " The old woman won't like that." 
 
 Tom. " If she don't, aunt Guillotine will settle 
 it." 
 
 Nat. " You are so smart, Tom, that I will ask you 
 one more question. What is communism?" 
 
 Tom. " Why ! a thing which belongs to you and 
 me equally. For instance, I have an empty pipe; 
 you have a cent. I say to you, buy tobacco. Good ! 
 Give it to me. Excellent ! I fill my pipe. That's 
 all." 
 
 Nat. (Looking puzzled). " That's all ! What is 
 my share in it ? " 
 
 Tom. " You are very dull, Nat. Whilst I do the 
 smoking, you do the spitting. Is not that fair? 
 That's communism."
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 42 5 
 
 This time, little Nat did not shout any hurrah. 
 " Well," said Dubayet to himself, as he left these 
 boys, the one so inquisitive, and the other so wise, 
 before having cut their eye teeth, " I have seen the 
 birth of two republics, and I have sad doubts about 
 their vitality and their answering the purposes for 
 which they were created. I am curious now to ex 
 amine the most absolute despotism existing on earth. 
 Let us hasten, then, to the dominion of him to whose 
 decree of death the followers of the prophet of Islam 
 unhesitatingly bend their submissive necks, without 
 one thought of resistance." 
 
 Aubert Dubayet was treated with coldness at Con 
 stantinople. Almost all the representatives of the 
 Foreign Powers were hostile to him. The envoy of 
 rebels who had murdered their sovereign, could not 
 expect sympathy in any country whose ruler claimed 
 to exercise his functions by divine right. He be 
 haved, however, with such dignity and tact, that he 
 soon conciliated favor and commanded respect. Hav 
 ing at last obtained an audience from the Sultan, he 
 was received by that Prince with all the marks of the 
 highest consideration. 
 
 Meanwhile, John Adams had succeeded Washing 
 ton as President of the United States. He was sus 
 pected of being still more in favor of England than 
 Washington was supposed to be, and for that reason 
 was assailed with greater violence. In the treaty 
 which Washington had made with that power, the 
 rights of the people had been represented as not only 
 neglected, but absolutely sold. It was asserted that it 
 contained no reciprocal advantages ; that the benefits 
 were all on the side of Great Britain ; and, what 
 seemed to have more weight with the people than all
 
 4 >6 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 the rest, and to have been most pressed by the oppo 
 sition : " that the treaty was made with the design to 
 oppress the French, in open violation of a treaty al 
 ready existing between that nation and the United 
 States, and contrary, too, to every principle of grati 
 tude and sound policy." 
 
 Under Adams, the relations between France and 
 the United States, which had been unpleasant under 
 his predecessor, became gradually so embittered that 
 they threatened a rupture. Washington had de 
 manded the recall of Genet for improper conduct. It 
 had been granted ; but the French Government had, 
 in its turn, insisted on the recall of Gouverneur Morris, 
 whose political sympathies were considered highly 
 aristocratic. That request had been complied with. 
 In these conjunctures, the text of the obnoxious 
 treaty having been made known, such was the irrita 
 ble condition of the public mind that the whole coun 
 try had been immediately in a blaze.* Not only the 
 opposition party, but also a portion of the Cabinet, 
 had been against its ratification. The attack upon it 
 had been vehement and sustained ; the support of it, 
 feeble and faltering. The assailants had seemed de 
 termined to carry their point by storm. Immense 
 meetings to oppose the ratification had been held in 
 Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and 
 Charleston. The smaller towns throughout the Union 
 had followed their example. In New York a copy of 
 the treaty had been burnt before the Governor's 
 house. In Philadelphia it was suspended on a pole, 
 carried about the streets, and finally burnt in front of 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 216, vol. v.
 
 A USER T D UBA YE T. 427 
 
 the British minister's house, and amidst the shoutings 
 of the populace.* 
 
 Monroe, who had been sent to France as envoy in 
 the place of Gouverneur Morris, had been especially 
 instructed to explain the views and conduct of the 
 United States in forming the treaty with England, 
 and had been amply furnished with documents for the 
 purpose. From his own letters, however, it appears 
 that he had omitted to use them. Whether this arose 
 from undue attachment to France, a feeling common 
 to many, or from mistaken notions of American in 
 terests, or from real dislike to the treaty, the result 
 was the very evil which he had been instructed to 
 prevent. The French Government misconceived the 
 views and conduct of the United States ; suspected 
 their policy in relation to Great Britain ; and, when 
 aware that the House of Representatives would exe 
 cute the treaty, became bitter and unjust in their re 
 sentment. Symptoms of this appeared in the capture 
 of an American merchantman by a French privateer, f 
 Under these circumstances Monroe had been recalled, 
 and Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, of South Carolina, 
 chosen to succeed him. 
 
 Still the resentful policy of the French had con 
 tinued, because the American Government would not 
 join them in a war against England, and they had 
 issued a decree ordering the seizure of British property 
 found on board of American vessels, and of provisions 
 bound for England, which was a direct violation of 
 their treaty with the United States. A letter which 
 Washington had written to Gouverneur Morris, then 
 in London, had by some accident fallen into the 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 216, vol. v. t Ib., p. 242
 
 428 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 hands of the French Government, and had produced 
 much irritation, although it gave very little cause for 
 it, for the part deemed objectionable was as follows : 
 
 " I give these details," wrote Washington to Mor 
 ris, " as evidences of the impolitic conduct of the 
 British Government toward these United States, that 
 it may be seen how difficult it has been for the Execu 
 tive, under such an accumulation of irritating circum 
 stances, to maintain the ground of neutrality which 
 had been taken ; and at a time when the remembrance 
 of the aid we had received from France in the Revo 
 lution was fresh in every mind, and while the parti 
 sans of that country were continually contrasting the 
 affections of that people with the unfriendly disposition 
 of the British Government ; and that, too, while their 
 own sufferings during the war with the latter, had not 
 been forgotten. 
 
 " It is well known that peace has been (to borrow 
 a modern phrase) the order of the day with me, since 
 the disturbances in Europe first commenced. My 
 policy has been, and will continue to be, while I have 
 the honor to remain in the administration, to main 
 tain friendly terms with, but independent of, all the 
 nations of the earth ; to share in the broils of none ; to 
 fulfil our engagements ; to supply the wants of, and be 
 carriers for, them all. Nothing short of self-respect, 
 and that justice which is essential to national charac 
 ter, ought to involve us in war." 
 
 On Monroe's recall the French Government had 
 gone so far as to declare that it would not receive 
 any new minister plenipotentiary from the United 
 States, until that Power should have redressed the 
 pretended grievances of which the republic had com 
 plained. When Monroe had his audience of leave,
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 429 
 
 Barras, the president of the Directory, addressed him 
 in terms which conveyed a compliment to his own 
 nation, but an insult to the Americans. 
 
 "The French republic hopes," he said with arro 
 gance, " that the successors of Columbus, of Raleigh, 
 and of Penn, ever proud of their liberty, will never 
 forget that they owe it to France. In their wisdom 
 they will weigh the magnanimous benevolence of the 
 French people with the artful caresses of perfidious 
 designers, who meditate to draw them back to their 
 ancient slavery. Assure, Mr. Minister, the good 
 American people, that, like them, we adore liberty ; 
 that they will always have our esteem, and that they 
 will find in the French people the republican gener 
 osity which knows how to accord peace, as it knows 
 how to make its sovereignty respected. 
 
 "As to you, Mr. Minister plenipotentiary, you 
 have fought for the principles, you have known the 
 true interests of, your country. Depart with our re 
 grets. We give up in you a representative of Amer 
 ica, and we retain the remembrance of the citizen 
 whose personal qualities honor that title." 
 
 A few days afterward, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney 
 presented himself as the successor of Monroe. The 
 French Government refused to receive him ; and, as 
 if this indignity was not sufficient, he was ordered out 
 of the republic. The next step was to proceed to the 
 capture of American vessels by French cruisers. On 
 being informed of these outrages, President Adams 
 convened Congress. In his opening address he ad 
 verted particularly to the language of Barras in Mon 
 roe's audience of leave. 
 
 "The speech of the president of the Directory," 
 said he, " discloses sentiments more alarming than the
 
 430 * UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 refusal of a minister, because more dangerous to our 
 independence and Union; and, at the same time, 
 studiously marked with indignities toward the Gov 
 ernment of the United States. It evinces a dispo 
 sition to separate the people from their Government, 
 to persuade them that they have different affections, 
 principles, and interests from those of their fellow- 
 citizens, whom they themselves have chosen to man 
 age their common concerns, and thus to produce dis 
 sensions fatal to our peace. Such attempts must be 
 repelled with a decision which shall convince France 
 and the world, that we are not a degraded people, 
 humiliated under a colonial spirit of fear and sense of 
 inferiority, fitted to be the miserable instrument of 
 foreign influence, and regardless of national honor, 
 character, and interest," 
 
 The President recommended to Congress to pro 
 vide for effectual measures of defense, but at the 
 same time announced his intention to institute nego 
 tiations in view of an amicable adjustment. Wash 
 ington, though retired from public life, strongly ad 
 vocated the course pursued by Adams. In accord 
 ance with the policy announced, three envoys extra 
 ordinary were appointed to the French republic, viz. : 
 Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, John Marshall, and 
 Ellridge Gerry. 
 
 On the arrival of the ministers in Paris, a certain 
 individual, named Bellarni, called on Pinckney, as the 
 secret agent of Talleyrand, minister of foreign affairs, 
 assuring him that citizen Talleyrand had the highest 
 esteem for the citizens of the United States, and was 
 most anxious for their reconciliation with France. 
 
 " I am very happy," replied Pinckney, " to receive
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 43 1 
 
 such assurances, and so will my colleagues be. We 
 hope, therefore, soon to obtain an audience." 
 
 " No doubt," continued Bellarni. " But, to show 
 your good dispositions, it would be proper to offer a 
 present of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to 
 Mr. de Talleyrand, for the use of the Directory ; to 
 agree to expunge certain offensive passages in the 
 speech of President Adams ; and to pay a large sum, 
 in the shape of a loan from America to France." 
 
 The baseness and the impudence of these propo 
 sitions were startling; they were indignantly rejected. 
 A few days after, besides the secret agent, an intimate 
 friend of Talleyrand was present at another meeting. 
 They insisted again on the expunging of the passages 
 in the President's message to Congress, but hinted 
 that they might give that up, " provided they had 
 money a great deal of money." 
 
 At a third conference, the same personages fixed at 
 six millions four hundred thousand dollars the amount 
 of the loan which they exacted from the United States, 
 with a douceur of two hundred and fifty thousand dol 
 lars for the private comfort of the members of the 
 Directory. 
 
 A fourth meeting was held, and on the plenipoten 
 tiaries presenting the object of their mission in what 
 they thought its proper light : " Gentlemen," said 
 the secret agent, " you mistake the point altogether. 
 You say nothing of the money you are to give you 
 make no offer of money ; on that point you are not 
 explicit." 
 
 "We are explicit enough," replied the American 
 envoys. " We will not give you one farthing ; and, 
 before coming here, we should have thought such an
 
 432 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 offer as you now propose, would have been regarded 
 as a mortal insult." 
 
 " You again mistake the point," coolly observed 
 the agent. " We are above a bribe, and want merely 
 a fee to advocate your claims, just as you would pay 
 a lawyer to plead your cause. You had better reflect 
 on the matter, and let me know the result of your de 
 liberations." 
 
 Having continued to reject persistently such dis 
 graceful propositions, the American envoys remained 
 several months in Paris without being accredited, and 
 finally returned, without having had the opportunity 
 to discuss officially the object of their mission. 
 
 The Directory, believing the people of the United 
 States would not support their Government in a war 
 against France, issued a decree subjecting to capture 
 and condemnation neutral vessels and their cargoes, 
 if any portion of the latter was of British fabric or 
 produce, although the entire property might belong 
 to neutrals. The United States being at this time 
 the great neutral carriers of the world, this iniqui 
 tous decree struck at a vital point in their maritime 
 power. * 
 
 The Directory had reckoned too much on the par 
 tiality of the American people for the French. Such 
 insults and outrages at once roused their temper, 
 changed their dispositions, and with an indignant 
 spirit they prepared for a war which they considered 
 inevitable. Congress resolved on vigorous measures, 
 and the President was authorized to enlist ten thou 
 sand men as a provisional army, to be called by him 
 into actual service, in case of hostilities. " If the 
 
 * Irving's " Life of Washington," p. 271, vol. v.
 
 A UBER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 433 
 
 French come here," wrote Adams, "we will have to 
 march with a quick step and attack, for in that way 
 alone they are said to be vulnerable." 
 
 Washington was appointed commander-in-chief, and 
 Hamilton next in command. In recommending him, 
 Pickering, the secretary of state, wrote : " The enemy 
 whom we are now preparing to encounter, veterans 
 in arms, led by able and active officers, and accus 
 tomed to victory, must be met by the best blood, 
 talents, energy, and experience that our country can 
 produce." 
 
 Gouverneur Morris, who had remained in London, 
 had maintained a regular correspondence with his 
 friend Dubayet, at Constantinople, and had kept him 
 informed of these facts and details. They mortified 
 him so deeply that his heakh, which had never been 
 strong, gave way entirely. The dreadful shock which 
 he had received in early youth in Louisiana, had never 
 been forgotten, and its lingering effects could be de 
 tected in the latent melancholy which he carried with 
 him through life, concealed as much as possible, but 
 doing its withering work in the depths of the heart. 
 As a diversion from his sorrows, he had resolved to 
 keep himself incessantly engaged in the execution of 
 noble and great purposes. He had assisted the suc 
 cessful creation of two republics in two hemispheres, 
 which were the hope of mankind, and which were to 
 spread universal liberty, peace, equality, and fraternity 
 all over the whole earth. What an illusion it had 
 proved to be ! The two model republics, on two dif 
 ferent continents, although separated by the broad 
 Atlantic, were on the eve of grappling together, not 
 in a sisterly embrace, but in a deadly struggle. One 
 of these republics was already steeped in blood and 
 19
 
 434 A USER T D UBA YE T. 
 
 corruption ! What would become of the other, the 
 virgin of the wilderness? Did he not clearly see in 
 her such seeds or germs of demoralization as might, 
 in the course of time, and under circumstances favor 
 able to putrefaction, develop themselves into appall 
 ing growth and expansion? In his dejection, he felt 
 as if all incentives to action were gone, since it was 
 impossible to do any permanent good in the world, 
 and to achieve any progress in private or public mor 
 als and in the science of government, without a cor 
 responding retrogression, which brought the chariot 
 of civilization back to its starting-point, notwithstand 
 ing so many discoveries and improvements in the 
 realm of matter. He considered humanity as typified 
 in the symbolic circle of the snake biting its tail. 
 With a mind in such a condition, and a constitution 
 weakened by a long-indulged sorrow, Dubayet yielded 
 easily to a malignant fever which suddenly attacked 
 him, and died at Constantinople, on the 7th of De 
 cember, 1797, in the thirty-eighth year of his age, 
 with the knowledge and conviction that, in this world 
 which he left when still so young, " all is vanity of 
 vanities," save the unselfish satisfaction proceeding 
 from the consciousness of the performance of duty 
 under all circumstances, and the internal consolations 
 derived from the divine sources of morality and re 
 ligion. 
 
 THE END.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 CLOSING REMARKS. 
 
 AFTER having described the revolutionary throes 
 accompanying the birth, in the last century, of the 
 two greatest republics of modern times in Europe and 
 in America, the author believes that it will not be inap 
 propriate and foreign to the subject he has treated, 
 to place before his readers, in the shape of an ap 
 pendix, the following episode showing the last agonies 
 of the ancient Roman republic, when perishing under 
 the deadly effects of lawlessness and corruption, and 
 gradually transforming itself into a social and polit 
 ical condition which, in accordance with eternal and 
 inflexible laws, necessitated the advent of imperial 
 despotism.
 
 436 APPENDIX, 
 
 A HISTORICAL EPISODE 
 
 OF 
 
 THE LAST DAYS OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC 
 
 THE WIFE OF CESAR THE MYSTERIES OF THE GOOD GOD 
 DESS THE TRIAL OF CLODIUS FOR SACRILEGE AND 
 ADULTERY THE JUDGES BRIBED SCENES IN THE 
 FORUM AND IN THE SENATE OF ROME GENERAL COR 
 RUPTION.* 
 
 ON the 5th of December, 692 of the Roman Era, 
 and 62 years before the birth of Christ, under the 
 consulate of Julius Silanus and Licinius Murcna, early 
 in the morning, there could be observed in the streets 
 of Rome a greater agitation than usual. The vast 
 human hive was evidently in a state of commotion. 
 In the Forum, and particularly in the Sacred Street 
 Via Sacra there were groups of excited men talking 
 and gesticulating with extreme animation ; a number 
 of priests were seen moving about in various direc 
 tions, and when they met, conversed in a low tone 
 of voice, apparently on a subject which seemed to fill 
 them with anxiety. Some extraordinary event had no 
 doubt happened, or was expected. What was it ? Wild 
 rumors of every sort circulated rapidly. Some said 
 that another Catiline conspiracy had been discovered ; 
 others, that Cato, the inflexible adversary of all 
 agrarian laws, had been murdered by the violent and 
 
 * The writer of this article has derived the materials with 
 which he has constructed it, from Cicero, Suetonius, Seneca, 
 Plutarch, and other authorities, but chiefly from Dumazeau's 
 " Barreau Remain."
 
 APPENDIX. 437 
 
 unprincipled advocates of such measures; that Cicero 
 had quarreled with Pompey and Crassus; that a 
 Roman army had been entirely destroyed somewhere 
 nobody yet knew in what locality and by what 
 enemy. Suppositions and conjectures increased, as 
 time flew, in number and in sensational force. Crowds 
 had gathered densely in front of the residence of each 
 of the two consuls, in the hope that, from that quarter, 
 the first reliable news would come out. The excite 
 ment was growing in intensity, when the street door 
 of Consul Silanus opened and let out, to the wonder 
 of the multitude, the venerated matron, Aurelia, the 
 aged mother of Julius Caesar. An expression of deep 
 grief was in her face; she walked slowly and with 
 difficulty, supported by the female servants who es 
 corted her. The people crowded around her as much 
 as respect permitted ; her son was already dear to 
 them. Had he been the victim of some cowardly 
 and secret attempt against his life, and had she come 
 to inform the consul ? Being eagerly interrogated as 
 to the truth of this conjecture, she replied : " No, 
 Caesar still lives, to serve the Roman people, but asks 
 redress for the insult offered to his name and to his 
 household Gods." A few minutes afterward, the 
 whole population of Rome, of high and low degree, 
 knew the adventure which, the night previous, had 
 taken place. On that night, the mysteries of the 
 Good Goddess were to be celebrated at the house of 
 Caesar, the high pontiff, under the direction of Pom- 
 peia, his wife, daughter of Quintus Pompey and niece 
 of Lucius Sylla. What of that Good Goddess? 
 What of her mysterious worship? In what did it 
 consist? Nobody ever knew exactly. Her true name, 
 for she had more than one, was to be communicated
 
 438 APPENDIX. 
 
 only to women, and they seem to have kept the secret. 
 No man was permitted to be present in the building 
 where those mysteries were celebrated, and even every 
 picture, statue, effigy, or anything whatever, animate 
 or inanimate, in which there was any trace of the 
 male sex, was to be carefully removed, or veiled. 
 
 A female slave, named Abra, had been stationed at 
 the door opening into the inner peristyle, to admit the 
 Roman women who, as soon as the sun disappeared 
 beneath the horizon, were seen moving from all parts 
 of the city toward the house of Caesar. The relig 
 ious sacrifices were to be accomplished in a large hall 
 prepared for the occasion. A woman presented her 
 self with her face carefully veiled. Her stature was 
 rather uncommon for one of her sex, and a close ob 
 server could have detected a slight degree of embar 
 rassment or confusion in her manner. On her being 
 asked her name, she replied: "I am the Milesian 
 Neera, chorist of the Good Goddess in her temple on 
 Mount Aventine." There must have been something 
 preconcerted between them, because, on hearing these 
 words, Abra put her finger on her lips as if recom 
 mending silence, prudence, and caution, and taking 
 the pretended Neera by the hand, led her rapidly 
 through a long series of galleries, and left her to her 
 self in a small room of the upper story where com 
 plete obscurity prevailed. It was the chamber of 
 Abra. 
 
 The person who had thus assumed the character of 
 a chorist was Publius Clodius Pulcher. His illustrious 
 family was traced back to the foundation of Rome 
 itself. He inherited the surname of Pulcher, the 
 handsome, from one of his ancestors, but it seems 
 that he very little deserved the complimentary appel-
 
 APPENDIX. 439 
 
 lation ; for, Cicero once apostrophizing him in one 
 of his speeches, said : " I believe that, should a mir 
 ror be presented to you, you would find yourself to 
 be very far from being Pulcher, handsome." Never 
 theless, he was a favorite with the women of Rome. 
 He was a haughty, overbearing, impetuous profligate, 
 renowned for his debaucheries, and was even suspect 
 ed of having an incestuous intercourse with his three 
 sisters one of them the wife of Lucullus. That 
 personage had changed the orthography of his pat 
 ronymic name from Claudius to Clodius. He had 
 become such a demagogue, that perhaps it was to 
 show by this change, that he renounced all connec 
 tion with his noble ancestors ; and in order to be 
 elected a tribune, to which office no patrician could 
 aspire, he at last caused himself to be adopted into a 
 plebeian family, and thus became one of the people. 
 They, in the course of time, rewarded him with the 
 position which he had desired, and from which he 
 expected to derive the authority and influence he 
 needed for the accomplishment of all his nefarious 
 schemes. He was a hideous assemblage of all the 
 vices without one solitary redeeming quality, and his 
 audacity was fully equal to the perverseness of his 
 heart. 
 
 This was the man who was in the chamber of Abra, 
 waiting for the object of his guilty passion. But the 
 religious ceremonies had begun, and Pompeia, who 
 performed in them the principal part, could not with 
 draw without its being remarked. Impatient of delay, 
 and perhaps moved by an irresistible curiosity to peep 
 into the celebrated mysteries of the Good Goddess, 
 Clodius left the room where he was safely concealed 
 and directed his steps to a place where melodious
 
 440 APPENDIX. 
 
 sounds attracted his attention. He lost his way, as 
 he cautiously wandered through the sinuosities of 
 vaulted arches by whose obscurity he thought himself 
 protected. He met a female slave, who proposed to 
 lead him where they could entertain themselves with 
 some amusement or other. He refused ; she insisted ; 
 he persisted in his silent refusal. Somewhat nettled 
 by his obstinacy, she attempted to drag him to some 
 lighted spot where she could see his face. Clodius then 
 said that he was Neera the singer, and that he was 
 in search of Abra ; but his voice, which he could not 
 sufficiently modify to make it support his assumed 
 part, betrayed his sex, and the alarm was given. A 
 shout announced that a man was within the sacred 
 precincts. The frightened women shrieked and 
 gathered together like a flock of sheep ; the religious 
 ceremonies were interrupted, and the holy emblem 
 atic images used in the celebration of the mysteries 
 were veiled to protect them against a profane eye. 
 Aurelia promptly ordered all the doors to be closed, 
 and with lighted torches a search being made, the 
 audacious person who had sacrilegiously violated the 
 mysteries of the Good Goddess was soon discovered. 
 The indignant crowd of women precipitated them 
 selves upon the guilty one, whom they devoted to 
 the Infernal Gods with the usual imprecations. The 
 tumult was at the highest, when Abra, availing herself 
 of the confusion, got hold of Clodius, hurried him 
 through a gallery which was not lighted, and facili 
 tated his escape by a secret door. But he had been 
 recognized, and at day-break, Aurelia, as already 
 stated, had hastened to give information of this sac 
 rilege to Consul Silanus. 
 
 This amorous adventure, complicated with an out-
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 441 
 
 rage against religion, assumed from other circum 
 stances the character of a political event, which was 
 destined in its consequences to have a serious influ 
 ence on the affairs of the State. For some time past 
 many Romans had reconciled themselves to the idea 
 that the end of the republic was at hand, and that a 
 concentration of all powers in one man was bound 
 to be the necessary result of those fatal intestine dis 
 sensions and civil wars which had undermined its 
 very foundations, by introducing the dissolving ele 
 ment of universal corruption, private and public. The 
 grand republic, so noble at its birth, had become noth 
 ing else than a monstrous, gigantic mass of putrefac 
 tion. This had stimulated the unscrupulous ambition 
 of three men, who dreamed of possessing themselves 
 of a permanent dictatorship. They were Crassus, 
 Pompey, and Caesar. The first based his hopes on 
 his colossal wealth ; the second on his military glory, 
 which had made him the idol of the people ; and the 
 third on the consciousness of his own genius and on 
 his belief in the fortune which destiny had prepared 
 for him. Caesar knew that he was Caesar. That was 
 enough to plan the conquest of the world, including 
 the subjugation of his own country. Those tm*ee men 
 united themselves to remove all the obstacles which 
 they found in their way, although they subsequently 
 became divided as soon as they had gathered the 
 fruits of a common victory. Cato and Cicero strug 
 gled against the accomplishment of those schemes of 
 usurpation that were manifest to all. Cato had all 
 the energy of a sincere republican and austere stoician. 
 But Cicero, with all his eloquence, his patriotism, and 
 his many other virtues, was sometimes weak and 
 vacillating. His philosophy was not so stern and his 
 19*
 
 442 APPENDIX. 
 
 nerves so strong as to impart to his mind that fixed 
 ness of purpose which shrinks from no danger, be 
 they a threatening reality, or existing only in an 
 alarmed imagination, but no less powerful in their in 
 fluence. The luxury of certain material and intel 
 lectual enjoyments in Rome, or at his famous coun 
 try-seat of Tusculum, was too keenly appreciated by 
 Cicero not to make him alive to the consequences of 
 risking too much, although it can not be denied that 
 he fearlessly made great sacrifices in his country's 
 cause. 
 
 The crime of Clodius had been the occasion of a 
 wide-spread scandal. Notwithstanding the stupend 
 ous corruption of the epoch, the religious institutions, 
 formerly so much respected, still retained a powerful 
 hold on the mind and heart of a portion of the popu 
 lation, which felt itself profoundly outraged in its 
 faith ; and the women, particularly, were clamorous 
 for the punishment of the sacrilegious offense that 
 had been committed. But the patrician Clodius was 
 known as desiring to be adopted in a plebeian family, 
 as already stated, and, therefore, disposed to renounce 
 his caste. He had assumed to be the warm, or rather 
 the furious advocate of the interests, wishes, and pas 
 sions of the people, who were grateful to him for his 
 efforts on their behalf. They could not forget that 
 he intended to descend voluntarily into their ranks, 
 and to abandon all the aristocratic privileges of his 
 race, which for centuries had been famous for its 
 haughtiness and its contempt for the lower classes. 
 He was, therefore, in possession of an immense 
 popularity, that made him worth being conciliated 
 by every one of those ambitious men who aimed 
 at sovereign power, and who hoped to cajole the
 
 APPENDIX. 443 
 
 people into willing servitude, or into granting the 
 means of destroying their liberties at the oppor 
 tune moment. Hence, Crassus and Pompey could 
 not but be inclined to serve him, if not by declaring 
 themselves openly in his favor on this occasion, when 
 he had brought himself into peril, at least by secretly 
 helping him with their influence. The interest of 
 Caesar was the same. It was his policy not to pro 
 voke the enmity of that energetic demagogue, but his 
 position was exceedingly delicate. As a pontiff and 
 as a husband he had been outraged in a double ca 
 pacity. His political interests, however, prevailed 
 over a just resentment, and he joined, as much as de 
 cency permitted, his efforts to those of his two associ 
 ates, Crassus and Pompey, to save the lover of his wife, 
 although he had hastened to repudiate her. In palli 
 ation of his conduct, if it can be palliated at all, it 
 must be remembered that in those days of advanced 
 civilization to which Rome had attained, Romans had 
 ceased to care much for the fidelity of their wives. 
 
 The consuls, whose term of office was soon to ex 
 pire, were disposed to follow a policy of prudent in 
 action, and to refrain from taking the initiative in a 
 criminal prosecution which might subject them to the 
 animadversion of the populace. Less timid, or per 
 haps actuated by secret feelings of enmity toward 
 Clodius, Quintus Cornificus, who had lately been a 
 candidate for the consulship in opposition to Cicero, 
 denounced the alleged crime to the Senate. This 
 act of virtuous energy on the part of a man who had 
 always shown himself more of an unprincipled dem 
 agogue than a rigid conservative, or guardian of pub 
 lic morals, caused universal astonishment. People 
 wondered at the inexplicable motive of his conduct,
 
 444 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 as his sympathies, considering his character and usual 
 deportment, were supposed to be enlisted in favor of 
 Clodius. Whatever was his spring of action, it is cer 
 tain that he forcibly related the circumstances of the 
 case, expatiated at length on the gravity of the offense, 
 insisted on having the accused brought before the 
 proper tribunal, and declared that he himself, if no 
 other undertook the task, would appear in the char 
 acter of public prosecutor. As he was known to be 
 a friend of Clodius, some suspected that his object 
 was to obtain the management and control of the 
 trial, and to conduct it in such a manner as to make 
 it a failure. This was not uncommon at that epoch 
 on the part of those who favored the accused parties, 
 and who had recourse to that stratagem. 
 
 There was another anomalous circumstance. Caius 
 Scribonius Curio, the friend of Cicero, and his firm 
 supporter in his former quarrels with Clodius so 
 much so that he had been beaten, it is said, by the 
 slaves of that ferocious partisan on account of his op 
 position to their master's schemes now showed him 
 self favorable to the accused, and, without assuming 
 to justify him, called the attention of the Senate to 
 the fact that, even admitting the truth of what was 
 related, there was a preliminary question to be set 
 tled, which was, whether what Clodius had done was 
 a crime or not alleging that it was the first time that 
 such an occurrence had happened ; that it was not 
 foreseen and provided for by any law ; that inasmuch 
 as it was an affair of a religious nature, the Senate 
 had no jurisdiction over it, and, therefore, that it was 
 indispensable to refer the matter to the consideration 
 of the Sacred College of Pontiffs. The main object 
 of this proposition was to gain time, and to post-
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 445 
 
 pone all further action until after the first of January, 
 when the new consuls were to come into office. It 
 was known that one of them, Piso Calpurnius, was 
 completely devoted to Clodius, and it was hoped that, 
 through his influence, the unfavorable feelings and 
 dispositions entertained by his colleague, Valerius 
 Messala Niger, might be paralyzed. After a very 
 animated debate, Curio's motion was adopted, and 
 the affair was referred to the pontiffs. This was one 
 point gained by Clodius. Curio's course, considering 
 his previous antagonism to Clodius, appears enigmatic 
 to posterity, but perhaps was well understood and ap 
 preciated by his contemporaries. In a demoralized 
 state of society, made worse by civil discords and in 
 tense party excitement, such tackings about, or shift- 
 ings of the ship's sails, in which individual interest is 
 the only recognized pilot, or such coat-turnings as 
 may suit the exigencies of the hour, are not unfre- 
 quent. The morality of modern times has been more 
 than once shocked by similar circumstances in high 
 places, where the very conspicuousness of the varia 
 tions might have been supposed to be a check against 
 their occurrence. 
 
 The question did not seem doubtful to the Sacred 
 College. It was remembered that, in the year 567 of 
 the foundation of Rome, under the consulship of Pos- 
 tumius Albinus and Marcus Philippus, certain women 
 having been accused of incest during the celebration 
 of the mysteries of Bacchus, the Senate had instructed 
 the consuls to proceed to an investigation, and that 
 several of those women had been tried and punished 
 with death. It was thought by the Sacred College 
 that the introduction of a man into the building where 
 the mysteries of the Good Goddess were celebrated,
 
 446 APPENDIX. 
 
 evidently constituted a sacrilege, and also that the 
 priestly character which Pompeia derived from the 
 sacerdotal dignity of her husband as pontiff, combined 
 with the sacredness of the place where the outrage 
 had been committed, assimilated to incest the adul 
 tery of which Clodius was suspected. The Sacred Col 
 lege, therefore, declared that the act attributed to 
 him was a crime de religione, or pollutis sacris, or de 
 incestu. 
 
 A report to that effect being made to the Senate, 
 gave rise to immediate discussion. Cornificus deliv 
 ered a speech in which he again expatiated on the 
 enormity of the offense, and on the necessity of quiet 
 ing, by an exemplary punishment of the offender, the 
 consciences of the honest and the pious. This was 
 very well thus far; but what was the tribunal, or qiuzs- 
 tio, which could entertain jurisdiction over the case? 
 It was admitted that there was none. Nobody thought 
 of bringing Clodius before the ordinary and perma 
 nent tribunals established to judge assassins, pecula 
 tors in the provinces subjected to the rule of Rome, 
 plunderers of the public treasury, and perpetrators of 
 the crime of bribery and corrupt canvassing. Conse 
 quently, it was indispensable to create, by a special 
 law, a special tribunal, quastio extra ordincm. 
 
 Cato spoke after Cornificus, and adopted his con 
 clusions. The sacrilege of Clodius could not remain 
 unpunished, but he feared a scandalous impunity, 
 should the accused be tried by a special tribunal, 
 which, according to precedent and usage, would be 
 composed of judges drawn by lot. " In recent trials," 
 he said, " has it not been demonstrated how weak 
 has become the sentiment of duty and justice in the 
 breasts of the people, from whose ranks the jurors
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 447 
 
 were to be taken according to the accidents of chance, 
 and how easy it was to corrupt those administrators 
 of the law thus improvised at random. What judges, 
 designated by the blind caprice of the drawing by lot, 
 will condemn Clodius, so powerful by his wealth, by 
 his family connections, by the sympathies felt for him 
 by all the enemies of order and peace, and by the 
 secret support of ambitious men, who speculate on 
 the audacity and popularity of this patrician dema 
 gogue ? Therefore, if this was an occasion for the 
 creation of a special tribunal, it also was a matter of 
 absolute necessity to decree that the judges be se 
 lected by the prcetor, or magistrate, instead of leaving 
 the composition of the tribunal to the uncertain ar 
 bitration of chance." 
 
 On hearing these sentiments, the partisans of 
 Clodius, who had artfully grouped themselves for 
 effect and mutual support in the Senate, burst into 
 a wild clamor, accompanied by violent gesticulations. 
 " What ! " exclaimed Curio, " is Clodius so great a 
 personage in our republic that our existing laws are 
 too feeble to rise up to the height of his importance 
 and power, and that he can be reached only by the 
 extraordinary exercise of an exceptional legislation, 
 applying singly to his person ? Or is he the object of 
 such implacable hatred, that men who have hitherto 
 been considered as the most vigP.ant guardians of the 
 established laws, propose to violate them for the pur 
 pose of securing the gratification of their revengeful 
 passions ? Exceptional legislation for a special case 
 has always been regarded with disfavor by the Roman 
 people, because one of their most objectionable effects 
 is, to be retroactive an odious feature, which has been 
 eloquently and energetically denounced by Cicero in
 
 448 APPENDIX. 
 
 the trial of Verres, and explicitly prohibited in the 
 laws cf the Twelve Tables. It is proposed, not only 
 to institute an extraordinary tribunal, but, moreover, 
 to invest it with the power to pass judgment over a 
 sacrilege and an incest. Would not this be a viola 
 tion of all the sound principles of jurisprudence ? Can 
 two crimes entirely distinct be cumulated and sub 
 jected to the same jurisdiction ? If the Senate should 
 be of opinion that there are good grounds, which I 
 am far from admitting, to order a criminal prosecu 
 tion against Clodius, there ought at least to be created 
 two tribunals one for each of the alleged crimes. 
 With regard to the proposition to give to the praetor 
 the choice of the judges, it is a monstrous one, which 
 I resist to the utmost of my ability ; and thoroughly 
 convinced I am that, if this body should thus dare to 
 trample underfoot all those usages, precedents, and 
 principles which are matters of common law, the peo 
 ple would know how to render justice in the premises 
 by reprobating and checking such iniquitous pro 
 ceedings." 
 
 Cicero, whose authority had been quoted, rose and 
 said: " True it is that, in the case mentioned, I spoke 
 with the usual energy of my convictions against the 
 abuses of retroactive legislation, but the orator to 
 whom I reply has forgotten that, on the occasion to 
 which he called our attention, it was an edict of the 
 praetor Verres which I assailed. There is no assimi 
 lation to be made between an edict emanating from a 
 magistrate concerning private matters, and a law pro 
 posed by the Senate and approved by the people. 
 The special laws passed to meet particular cases in 
 analogous circumstances are so numerous, that I do 
 not deem it necessary to recite them, because they
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 449 
 
 are well knov/n to all. With regard to the cumulation 
 of accusations, of which Curio complains, I can not 
 explain to myself the position he has taken, except 
 on the hypothesis of his being blinded by the excess 
 of his zeal for the defense of his friend, because no 
 body can plead ignorance of the fact that the perma 
 nent tribunal constituted by the law Cornelia took 
 cognizance of the crimes of assassination, of poison 
 ing, and of the bribing of judges, although these were 
 distinct facts, and of a different nature. After all, in 
 the present affair, the necessity of conforming to the 
 same jurisprudence results from the connection of the 
 two crimes attributed to Clodius a connection which 
 is so close that it merges them into one because the 
 circumstances of time and place are such that they 
 make of adultery an incest and a sacrilege. I see, 
 therefore, no objection to prosecuting Clodius for the 
 crime de religione, according to the conclusions of the 
 Sacred College of Pontiffs. Finally, I am of opinion, 
 in relation to the motion of Cato, that it certainly ap 
 pertains to the Senate, when it creates a new tri 
 bunal, to propose that the people, whose will is sov 
 ereign, should ultimately determine, for the best in 
 terests of justice, either the number of the judges, or 
 the mode of selecting them, or both, and the forms of 
 the proceedings." 
 
 Fierce and long were the debates. Several senators 
 imputed other crimes to Clodius among others, 
 that of sexual intercourse with his sister, the wife of 
 Lucullus. At last, after the most stormy delibera 
 tions, the Senate passed a Senatus Consultum decree 
 ing the formation of an extraordinary tribunal to 
 judge Publius Clodius Pulcher, accused of the crime 
 of sacrilege. That tribunal was to be composed of
 
 450 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 fifty-six jurors, chosen by the praetor presiding at the 
 trial, outside of the ordinary jury list, if he deemed 
 it proper. As to the mode of proceeding, it was to 
 be in conformity to the forms and rules prescribed 
 for the court which took cognizance of peculations. 
 (De pecuniis repetendis). The consuls were invited, 
 according to the ordinary formula, to apply to the 
 people for the necessary sanction to convert into law 
 the present Senatus Consultum. (Rogatio). 
 
 The decree of the Senate produced a great surprise 
 and commotion in Rome, the general impression hav 
 ing been that the partisans of Clodius would have 
 the upper-hand in that body. He had relied on the 
 influence of Crassus and Pompey, who, probably 
 yielding to a sentiment of shame, had prudently 
 kept aloof. The Consul Piso, who was entirely de 
 voted to Clodius, was indignant at their equivocal 
 conduct, and urged the tribune Fufius Calenus to 
 seize the first opportunity to force Pompey to mani 
 fest his dispositions. That opportunity was not long 
 in presenting itself. The tribune, having met Pompey 
 in the circus of Flaminius on a market day, called 
 upon him to declare in the presence of the crowd 
 there assembled, whether he approved the Senatus 
 Consultum which delegated to the praetor the choice 
 of the judges, and what was his opinion about the 
 best mode of composing the tribunal. Pompey was 
 surprised and nettled. He aristocratically answered 
 that it appeared and had always appeared to him tha.t 
 the authority of the Senate should be held superior 
 to any other. The rest of his remarks were prolix, 
 embarrassed, and devoid of any precise meaning. 
 This ambiguity and trimming pleased neither of the 
 contending parties. Shortly after, Consul Messala
 
 APPENDIX. 45 ! 
 
 asked him in full Senate what he thought of the affair 
 of Clodius. His answer did not differ much from 
 what he had already said in the circus of Flaminius. 
 He so enveloped his sentiments in a cloud of words 
 that it was impossible to discover what they were ; 
 and after having praised in general terms the pro 
 found wisdom of the august assembly, he went and 
 took a seat by the side of Cicero, to whom he said : 
 " Do you not think that I have been sufficiently ex 
 plicit on that ugly case?" It is fair to suppose that 
 Cicero, who was always cautious to keep on good 
 terms with Pompey, did not give a very positive 
 answer. Crassus rose and spoke in pompous terms 
 of the glories of Cicero's consulship, praised his cour 
 age, extolled his services to the sky, but said nothing 
 of the affair of Clodius, whom he was known secretly 
 to favor. This was an artful diversion from the sub 
 ject on which he suspected Cicero of being disposed 
 to speak energetically and with damaging effect to 
 his friend. He succeeded ; the vanity of the great 
 orator was well known, and was prodigiously tickled 
 on that occasion. He wrote to Atticus in an ecstasy 
 of pride and joy : " This day has made me a Crassus 
 man." Then he added, about the speech which he 
 had delivered in reply: "By the Immortal Gods, how 
 handsomely I made my toilet, and in my best dress 
 paraded in the presence of Pompey ! If ever sono 
 rous periods, happy inflections of the voice, richness 
 of invention, artifices of language, came to my aid, 
 it was certainly on that day. Hence, what acclama 
 tions ! It is true that I was treating of the dignity 
 of the Senate, of its perfect accord with the Eques 
 trian Order, of the excellent spirit which prevails 
 throughout Italy, of the expiring remnants of the
 
 452 APPENDIX. 
 
 Catiline conspiracy, of the low price of grain, and of 
 the re-established peace. You know how my words 
 ring when I peak on such a subject. Being con 
 vinced that tli iy sounded loud enough to reach your 
 ears, notwithstanding the distance which separated 
 us, I will refrain from saying anything further as to 
 the grand effect which they produced." Evidently 
 the satisfaction of Cicero was unbounded. But what 
 of Clodius, whom he had forgotten? Surely Crassus 
 must have laughed in his beard and enjoyed hugely 
 the success of his artifice. 
 
 Meanwhile, the day on which the people were to 
 vote for the approbation or rejection of the Senatus 
 Consultum had arrived. From early morn the whole 
 city was in commotion. All the young debauchees 
 who had joined in the Catiline conspiracy, were seen 
 actively moving in the most populous thoroughfares 
 and advocating the rejection of the Senatus Consult 
 um. Piso, who as consul had been officially com 
 pelled to submit the measure to the vote of the peo 
 ple, participated in these shameful manoeuvres. The 
 agents of Clodius swarmed at every point and were 
 distributing ballots for the rejection. On these bal 
 lots was inscribed the letter A meaning : Antiquo 
 that is, " I vote for what is ancient ; no innovation." 
 The formula of adoption was an U and R uti 
 rogas which meant : " Let it be done as desired." 
 Cato, seeing with what ability the partisans of Clodius 
 were conducting their intrigues, and fearing a defeat 
 for the Senate, ascended the rostrum, and called Con 
 sul Piso, who happened to be present, to an account 
 for his conduct. This was done with a vivacity of in 
 dignation which produced a profound sensation. Hor- 
 tensius succeeded Cato whose views he supported
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 453 
 
 with the animated flow of his usual eloquence. Other 
 orators were heard ; they all agreed in their withering 
 denunciations of the corrupt practices of the friends 
 of Clodius. Their success, however, was doubtful, 
 when fortunately perhaps for the fate of the Senatus 
 Consultum, it was announced that the auspices were 
 unfavorable, and therefore the comitia were pro 
 rogued. It was a convenient circumstance, which 
 frequently happened whenever it suited the patri 
 cians, who alone had the privilege of consulting the 
 entrails of the animals sacrificed to the Gods. 
 
 Thus time was gained, and the situation of affairs 
 was considered so important, that the Senate was 
 convened in extraordinary session as in cases of ur 
 gency, and a member proposed to invite by a decree 
 the consuls to solicit the sanction of the people to 
 the Senatus Consultum in question ; which was an 
 extreme measure, only resorted to in exceptional cir 
 cumstances. Clodius, alarmed at this firm persever 
 ance of the senators in their resolution to prosecute 
 him, affected great humility and threw himself as a 
 suppliant at the feet of the most influential. Piso 
 and Curio made great efforts to have the proposition 
 rejected. The decree, however, was adopted by a 
 majority of 400 to 15 the vote being ascertained by 
 sitting and standing. The decree said that the comitia 
 should be convened de novo to take cognizance of the 
 affair in preference to any other. This was a crush 
 ing result, but Clodius was not abashed. He who, 
 when the issue was doubtful, had put on so humble 
 a garb, resumed the attitude of haughtiness which 
 was natural to his character, and addressed Horten- 
 sius, his brother-in-law Lucullus, and Consul Mes- 
 sala in the most violent and insulting language, over-
 
 454 APPENDIX. 
 
 whelming them with reproaches and threats. As to 
 Cicero, Clodius ironically complimented him on his 
 marvelous talent to discover conspiracies and all 
 sorts of crimes. 
 
 A few days afterward, the comitia were assembled. 
 Gifted with that prodigious activity which character, 
 izes the abettors of popular troubles and disturbances, 
 and which Cicero calls horribilis diligentia, Clodius 
 had stimulated and raised the courage of his parti 
 sans, whilst he had by his defamations undermined 
 his adversaries in the public estimation. He had 
 personally attacked Cicero, who from the rostrum re 
 plied with one of those broadsides which he so well 
 knew how to direct against his enemies, when his fiery 
 zeal for the safety and dignity of the commonwealth 
 had not cooled down into moderation from pruden 
 tial considerations. He was elated at the manner in 
 which he spoke on that occasion. " Immortal Gods! " 
 he wrote to Atticus. " With what blows I demolished 
 my adversaries ! What a carnage I made of them! 
 How I rushed on Piso, Curio, and all those miserable 
 bandits ! How I crushed to the earth under the 
 weight of my contempt and indignation those hare 
 brained old men and those beardless debauchees ! " 
 Still there were apprehensions as to the result of the 
 vote. Hortensius, frightened at the turn which the 
 affair took, imagined an expedient which, as he 
 thought, would give satisfaction to the populace, and 
 at the same time save the dignity of the Senate. 
 The main complaint of Clodius against that body 
 was based on that part of the decree which conferred 
 on the praetor the power to compose the tribunal as 
 he pleased. Hortensius suggested to the tribune 
 Fufius, whose opposition he feared, the idea of pro-
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 455 
 
 posing, as an amendment coming from himself (Fufius) 
 that the Senatus Consultum be adopted in all its pro 
 visions, with the exception of what was relative to 
 the composition of the tribunal. Fufius acceded to 
 it with eagerness, and presented the amendment to 
 the people. 
 
 This compromise was generally approved, but 
 Cicero opposed it with much earnestness. According 
 to his views, the gist of the law was that very part of 
 it which was proposed to be suppressed, so much so, 
 that, so far as he was personally concerned, he would 
 prefer the absolute rejection to the adoption of the 
 offered compromise, because it was much better to 
 abandon Clodius and leave him to his infamy, than to 
 institute against him a derisive prosecution. Hor- 
 tensius insisted, being convinced, as he said, that the 
 culprit could not escape, whatever was the composi 
 tion of the tribunal, and that " a leaden sword would 
 suffice to pierce him." His conclusions were finally 
 adopted by many of those who had been originally 
 opposed to the amendment, and what was called the 
 law Fufia passed by the vote of a large majority. 
 
 This issue of the first phase of the prosecution 
 profoundly discouraged Cicero. From that moment 
 " he drew in his sails," according to his own expres 
 sions, and kept aloof, as if he saw in the future the 
 flames which devoured his house and the decree which 
 sent him into exile. 
 
 Four citizens presented themselves before the 
 praetor as the accusers of Clodius. They were the 
 three brothers Lentulus, of the great Cornelian fami 
 ly, and Fannius, one of the Pontiffs. Publius Lentu 
 lus, the eldest of the brothers and the highest in dig 
 nity, was the principal accuser, and swore that his ac-
 
 456 APPENDIX. 
 
 cusation was not based on any evil motives and was 
 not for the purpose of calumniating the accused. 
 His two brothers and Fannius joined him as secon 
 dary accusers (subscriptores). They all signed the 
 proccs verbal recording the names of the accusers and 
 of the accused, the taking of the oath, the allegation 
 and definition of the crime, together with the date of 
 the day fixed for the opening of the trial, which was, 
 after a delay of ten days. Accordingly, the praetor 
 summoned the accused, the accusers, and the judges 
 or jurors for the 4th of May, 693 of the foundation 
 of Rome, after the Floral games. 
 
 II. 
 
 Among the great judicial trials recorded in history 
 there are few which present themselves to the imagi 
 nation with such circumstances of pomp and grandeur. 
 The real accusers were the Roman Senate and peo 
 ple ; the accused was the powerful descendant of the 
 great Claudian family, whose origin was coeval with 
 that of the Eternal City. The advocates on both 
 sides were patricians and senators ; the witnesses 
 were the mother and sister of Caesar, Caesar himself, 
 Cicero, and other illustrious personages. The theatre 
 of the debates was the Forum, and one may be al 
 lowed to suppose that among the audience were the 
 invisible Gods, whose temples encircled on all sides 
 the august seats to be occupied by fifty-six judges. 
 In appearance the question was whether a man had 
 been guilty of sacrilege and adultery, but in reality it 
 was, which of the elements of good and evil engaged 
 in a death struggle, would predominate, and influence 
 the destinies of the mistress of the world. The tem 
 ple of justice had become a political arena, and the
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 457 
 
 verdict of the jury was to be the measure and evi 
 dence of that corruption which bred civil wars, de 
 stroyed the republic, and made a necessity of the 
 Augustan empire. 
 
 On the day of the famous trial, the 4th of May, the 
 Forum was invaded before sunrise by an immense 
 multitude. The porticoes of the temples of Saturn, 
 of Castor and Pollux, of Vesta and of Concord were 
 loaded with spectators, as well as every spot, roof, 
 gallery, or elevated point from which the eye could 
 embrace the Forum. At nine o'clock, a long swell or 
 undulation was noticed in that ocean of human beings, 
 which parted to give passage to Clodius, who was 
 seen advancing with slow steps, and accompanied by 
 his defenders, four in number, by his numerous clients 
 and friends, and by several members of his family, 
 among whom were conspicuous his three sisters, 
 Clodia, Pulchra, and Tertia, who were in mourning 
 apparel. At a short distance behind Clodius came 
 the accusers, followed by many persons of distinction, 
 among whom, the Consul Messala, Cicero, Cato, Ca 
 tullus, Caius, Piso, Lucullus, and others. The prsetor 
 was not long in presenting himself with his two lie- 
 tors, his clerks, and bailiffs. He took his seat in the 
 centre of the Forum on an elevated estrade. Behind 
 him were exhibited a pike and a sword, as the em 
 blems of command and force. A little lower, at a 
 certain distance on the right, was the bench of the 
 accusers in the shape of a semicircle. In line, on the 
 left, was the bench of the accused and his defenders. 
 The space between the estrade and those benches on 
 both sides was occupied by the seats of the judges, 
 in the shape of a hemicycle. A balustrade about 
 three feet high encircled the whole.
 
 458 APPENDIX. 
 
 The case being called, the pnEtor announced that 
 he would proceed to the first drawing by lot (sortitio) 
 of the fifty-six judges, or jurors, who were to take 
 cognizance of the accusation against Clodius. He 
 added that the accuser and accused had each the right 
 to recuse twenty-eight ; that is, ten in the order of the 
 senators, nine in the order of the knights, and nine 
 in the order of the tribunes of the treasury. Imme 
 diately, the bailiffs brought three urns containing 
 balls, on which were inscribed the names of the jurors 
 who were to serve as such during the year. These 
 urns having been opened, the praetor drew from the 
 first, nineteen names of senators; from the second, 
 nineteen names of knights ; and from the third, 
 eighteen names of tribunes of the treasury in all, 
 fifty-six judges. The accuser, having risen, declared 
 that he recused twenty one judges, whom he desig 
 nated. The accused challenged nine. The praetor 
 announced that he would proceed to the second draw 
 ing by lot to complete the number of the judges (sub- 
 sort it id). Consequently, he drew again, as he had 
 done before, and exactly in the same manner, fifty-six 
 names. Then addressing the accuser, he informed 
 him that his right being to recuse half of the judges 
 that is, twenty-eight and his having already re 
 cused twenty-one, there remained only seven to be 
 challenged by him, to wit : six in the order of sena 
 tors, and one in the order of knights. He also noti 
 fied the accused that he had the right to nineteen re- 
 cusations seven among the tribunes of the treasury, 
 seven among the knights, and five among the sena 
 tors. He then placed the fifty-six names in a fourth 
 urn, and proceeded to draw again, either party chal 
 lenging as the drawing went on the accuser first,
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 and the accused next. The right of recusation being 
 exhausted on both sides, the judges, or jurors, seated 
 themselves and took the prescribed oath. The prae 
 tor declared that the tribunal was finally constituted. 
 
 These preliminaries had not been gone through 
 without considerable disorder. Each time a recusa 
 tion was made, shouts of approbation or disapproba 
 tion had been heard from the crowd, according to 
 the feelings of the sympathizers with either party. 
 The judges had hardly been sworn, when the public 
 began to conjecture about the issue of the trial, 
 based upon the composition of the tribunal. Clodius 
 had exercised his right of recusation with remarkable 
 tact, and succeeded in setting aside most of the inde 
 pendent and honest citizens whose names had been 
 called. There could be seen among the judges, if 
 Cicero is to be believed, senators of ill-repute, knights 
 in rags, and tribunes of the treasury, " who certainly 
 had no treasury of their own." Three of the judges 
 were of a notoriously bad character, and the presence 
 of a few honest men whom the challenging by the ac 
 cused had not been able to reach, was not a sufficient 
 guarantee for an impartial judgment. 
 
 The praetor informed the accuser that he had the 
 right to open the case. 
 
 The law servilia, which was enacted thirty-two 
 years before, to put an end to certain abuses, had or 
 dered that, in cases of a specific nature, the pleadings 
 should embrace two days, with an interval of one day. 
 The second hearing, or pleading, was called compe- 
 rendinatio that is, the pleading of the third day. 
 This proceeding, which, at first, was restricted to 
 special cases, was later extended to several sorts of 
 criminal actions, and it seems that the law Fufia had
 
 460 APPENDIX. 
 
 made it applicable to the Clodius case. In the course 
 of time, the advocates, considering that these two 
 pleadings were supererogatory, and were tiresome to 
 the judges and to themselves, because it frequently was 
 a mere repetition of the same arguments, had gradu 
 ally adopted the habit of reducing the first pleading 
 to a simple exposition of the general features of the 
 affair, reserving for the second hearing the examina 
 tion of the proofs and the offering of their strongest 
 arguments. They had found it to their advantage to 
 speak only after the testimony had closed, rather than 
 split their discourse into two parts, one before and 
 the other after the proofs. But this course was not 
 very favorable to the accused, because it gave to the 
 accuser the opportunity to reserve his best points, 
 and to comment with more precision and effect on 
 the evidence presented. 
 
 Publius Lentulus, therefore, limited himself to ex 
 posing the facts of the case as they resulted from the 
 versions which were believed to be the most accurate, 
 and to presenting some remarks based on the gravity 
 of the crime attributed to Clodius, and on the respon 
 sibility which rested on the judges. He drew a vivid 
 picture of the situation of the Republic, and showed 
 that it was on the very brink of terrible disasters and 
 final ruin, through the violence of those factions which 
 were the natural results of such causes as the general 
 corruption of the commonwealth, the rivalship of am 
 bitious men, and the ever-growing contempt for the 
 majesty, sanctity, and power of the Gods. 
 
 After Lentulus had concluded, the pnetor signified 
 to the accused that it was his turn to speak. Then 
 Curio, the principal defender of Clodius, rose and ad 
 dressed the court. After a pathetic exordium, in
 
 APPENDIX. 46! 
 
 which he attempted to enlist the sympathies of the 
 judges in favor of a citizen whose greatest crime 
 nay, whose sole crime in the eyes of the nobles was 
 to have always warmly embraced the cause of the 
 people in all conflicts between them and their patrician 
 adversaries, he bitterly complained of the laconism of 
 the argument of the counsel on the opposite side. 
 " Thus far," he said, " on what rests so grave an ac 
 cusation ? Relating merely the gossipings scraped 
 up in the fish-market, the accuser reserves, no doubt, 
 for the second hearing, some great stage effect sedu 
 lously concealed from us. Truth ignores these tricks, 
 and does not fear to show herself at once in all her 
 chaste and commendable nudity. Clodius does not 
 require two days' preparation to justify himself. He 
 is ready to establish, without delay, that on the 4th 
 of December, 692, at nine o'clock in the evening, he 
 was in the city of Interamnium, at the house of his 
 friend, Cassinius Schola, and, therefore, that he could 
 not be in Rome when the sacrilege is alleged to have 
 been committed. The alibi will be proved beyond a 
 doubt by a large number of respectable witnesses, and 
 it will be demonstrated to every man of good faith 
 and impartiality that my client is the victim of an 
 atrocious calumny, or a deplorable error." He then 
 reviewed certain circumstances that rendered improb 
 able the facts brought forth by the accusation, and he 
 strove to refute in advance the proofs which the ac 
 cuser had announced. In concluding, he alluded to 
 the last words of Lentulus : " Yes," he said, " the Re 
 public is in danger ; but keep it in mind, Romans, 
 that it is less from the contempt for religion than 
 from the avarice of the patricians." This apostrophe 
 was received with boisterous acclamations from the
 
 462 APPENDIX. 
 
 partisans of Clodius, who had grouped themselves 
 near him as much as possible, and those acclamations 
 were echoed through the crowd to the very extrem 
 ities of the Forum. When silence was at last re-estab 
 lished, the praetor invited the accuser to produce his 
 witnesses, and the clerks prepared themselves to take 
 down the depositions. 
 
 The first witness was Aurelia, the mother of Caesar. 
 After having sworn by Jupiter to tell the truth, she 
 thus spoke: "You all know it, O judges ; the 4th of 
 December was the day fixed for the celebration of the 
 mysteries of the Good Goddess. The sacrifice which 
 was to be offered in the name of the Roman people 
 was to have taken place in the house of the high 
 pontiff, Caius Julius Caesar, my son. My daughter- 
 in-law, Pompeia, was called upon, on account of the 
 sacerdotal dignity of her husband, to fulfill the minis 
 try of high priestess. At four o'clock in the after 
 noon, Caesar departed with all the male persons of 
 his household. All male animals had been sent away. 
 The statues, the paintings, and everything which rep 
 resented persons or animals of the male sex, had been 
 carefully veiled. When this was done, the Vestals de 
 clared that the grounds were consecrated, and pro 
 nounced the usual imprecations against any profane 
 intruder who should dare to pollute them by his 
 presence. At 8 o'clock the women invited to the 
 celebration of the mysteries had arrived, the holy 
 things were uncovered, and the ceremonies began. 
 Between eight and a half and nine, a great noise was 
 heard in the triclinium, and almost at the same time 
 my slave ^Egypta rushed into the oratorio, with di 
 shevelled hair and her dress in disorder. ' A man is 
 here,' she cried. Immediately the songs ceased, and
 
 APPENDIX. 463 
 
 the Vestals threw themselves on the sacred objects to 
 prevent them from being seen. I ordered all the 
 doors to be closed. ^Egypta informed me that the 
 man she had met was in female attire, and indicated 
 the direction he had gone. We visited the house 
 with lights, even the most secret places, and we found 
 in the chamber of Abra, the slave of Pompeia, a per- 
 son dressed like a woman, but whom it was easy to 
 discover to be a man. At that moment there rushed 
 in a crowd of women, and availing himself of the 
 tumult which ensued, the stranger disappeared and 
 could not be found again. Early on the next morn 
 ing, I called on Consul Silanus to complain of this 
 abominable sacrilege. I have said." 
 
 Lentulus, having risen, asked her if she had seen 
 and recognized the man of whom she had spoken. 
 She answered : " I saw and recognized him, I believe. 
 I believe* that it was Publius Clodius Pulcher, the 
 son of Appius Claudius." This declaration produced 
 a moment of agitation among the spectators who 
 were the nearest to the tribunal. 
 
 "Will you describe the costume of the pretended 
 Clodius ? " . asked Curio, addressing the witness. " I 
 can not," she replied, " but ^Egypta will." 
 
 Lentulus expressed the desire to know if Pompeia 
 had left the sacred place of the sacrifice between 
 eight and nine o'clock. The witness affirmed that 
 she was not aware of it, and did not think that she 
 had absented herself. 
 
 * Witnesses among the Roman people generally gave their 
 testimony with great circumspection. They did not say : 
 " I saw, I heard, but I believe that I saw, that 1 heard." This 
 formula, expressive of what was the " Socratic doubt," had 
 passed from the Academy to the Forum.
 
 464 APPENDIX. 
 
 After Aurelia, the sister of Cresar, Julia, was heard. 
 Her testimony, delivered with clearness and without 
 hesitation, confirmed her mother's declarations. Next 
 came C?esar. He declared that he had been several 
 hours absent from his house when the incident oc 
 curred, and therefore that he knew nothing. Being 
 hard pushed by the accusers, he persisted in the same 
 reserve and even refused to repeat any of the reports 
 which had reached his ears, because it was impossible 
 for him to ascertain if they were correct. " If you 
 know nothing," testily said Lentulus, " how is it that 
 you have repudiated Pompeia ? " " Because," he re 
 plied, " the wife of Caesar must not even be sus 
 pected." 
 
 The fourth witness was the slave ^Egypta. She 
 thus spoke : " I had been appointed to guard exter 
 nally the place where the sacrifice for the Roman peo 
 ple was to be accomplished. About nine o'clock, I 
 discovered at the extremity of a gallery a woman 
 whom I took to be a slave. I went to her and pro 
 posed a game of osselets. She did not answer ; she 
 turned her head, and walked a few steps from me, as if 
 going away. I followed her, drew her to a lamp sus 
 pended from the vaulted ceiling, and asked her who 
 she was, to be so disdainful. She replied that she was 
 one of the singers of the Good Goddess, and that she 
 was looking for Abra. It was not the voice of a 
 woman. I seized the unknown by the arm, but she 
 got rid of me by so abrupt and violent a movement, 
 that I no longer had any doubt as to her sex." The 
 witness then repeated ail that had already been said 
 by Aurelia. Curio having asked her if she had rec 
 ognized Clodius, she answered that she could not 
 have recognized him, because he was unknown to
 
 APPENDIX. 465 
 
 her ; but that several of the Roman dames, on seeing 
 the person she had mentioned, exclaimed : " It is 
 Clodius." 
 
 Confronted with the accused, she believed that she 
 recognized him as the person in question, who, how 
 ever, was younger and beardless. Interrogated as to 
 the costume, she declared that the pretended chorist 
 of the Good Goddess wore a saffron-colored robe, a 
 head-dress in the shape of a mitre, purple ribbons, a 
 tucker, and a buskin, such as are used by women, and 
 that she carried a harp. 
 
 Abra testified with great unconcern on the facts al 
 ready known, as if she had not been an accomplice. 
 Keenly interrogated by both sides, she confessed that 
 she had admitted the chorist dressed as ^gypta had 
 described, but averred that she did not know who she 
 was and had lost sight of her immediately after her 
 admittance. She emphatically denied having facili 
 tated her evasion. After Abra, several Roman mat 
 rons testified. They all declared that they thought 
 they had recognized Clodius. 
 
 Then Marcus Tullius Cicero was called as a witness. 
 On hearing that name, the partisans of Clodius broke 
 out into an immense clamor. Yells after yells of 
 rage resounded far and wide. Alarmed at this threat 
 ening demonstration, the judges spontaneously rose 
 from their seats and surrounded Cicero, as if to pro 
 tect the man who had so well deserved the appella 
 tion of " father of his country," and by gestures and 
 words gave the perturbators of the peace to under 
 stand that they were determined to defend the illus 
 trious witness at the peril of their lives. This atti 
 tude of the tribunal produced a profound impression 
 on the people, and Clodius himself seemed to be 
 20
 
 466 APPENDIX. 
 
 struck with dismay. The howls ceased by degrees, 
 and Cicero could give his testimony. He swore that, 
 on the day of the celebration of the mysteries of the 
 Good Goddess, he had seen Clodius at six in the 
 evening in Rome, and had conversed with him on the 
 affairs of the Republic. He added that this fact was 
 so well known in the city, and, if necessary, could be 
 proved by so many witnesses, that it would not have 
 been possible for him not to mention it, even if he 
 had been so disposed. 
 
 Curio then rose and said : " There is not one of us 
 who does not know the jealous and shrewish temper 
 of Terentia, the wife of Cicero. She has taken into 
 her head that Clodia, the sister of Clodius, entertains 
 the singular fancy of marrying Cicero after having 
 induced him to repudiate her, Terentia, and that this 
 negotiation is now being conducted by Tullius, a 
 friend of both houses. I ask the witness, whose 
 reverential submission to the will of Terentia is not 
 a secret for anybody, if the declaration which he has 
 just made has not been suggested to him by the ne 
 cessity of re-establishing peace in his household." 
 This question elicited loud laughter on the benches 
 of the accused and of his friends. When silence was 
 restored, Cicero answered with calm dignity, in a 
 tone not untinged, however, with irony : " That he 
 had never raised his pretentions to the thought of 
 marrying Clodia, although it was well known that she 
 had a tempting dowry of quadrantes ;* that he was 
 
 * Clodia was one of the loosest women of Rome. It was re 
 lated that one of her numerous lovers had once, in derision, sent 
 her a bag of small coins, of very little value, called quadrantes, 
 as an adequate price for her favors. Hence the surname of 
 qaudr ant aria given to her.
 
 APPENDIX. 467 
 
 far from believing that she had ever thought of him, 
 because he knew her taste for family alliances ;* and 
 that, with regard to Terentia, even admitting as true 
 the ridiculous ideas attributed to her, she could not 
 have been so insensate as to desire the removal of a 
 man whose assiduous attentions to Clodia were rather 
 a cause of security for her supposed jealousy than 
 one of inquietude." 
 
 The answer produced an explosion of hilarity ; all 
 eyes turned toward Clodia, and it was with difficulty 
 that the praetor put an end to this war of sarcasms. 
 
 Curio, however, was not put out of countenance. 
 He said that he was not willing to insist on simple 
 conjectures, whatever might be their plausibility. 
 But he thought it not improper to remind the judges 
 that the Vestal Fabia, the sister of Terentia, had been 
 accused of incest by Clodius, and that, although she 
 had been acquitted, yet it was easy to understand 
 that Terentia had cherished against the accused, in 
 the present trial, a resentment which was necessarily 
 shared by the witness. 
 
 Cicero, who had withdrawn from the stand, signi 
 fied by a gesture that he would not condescend to 
 reply. 
 
 Other witnesses were heard in support of the accu 
 sation. Cato testified as to some facts which were 
 of little importance. Lucullus produced two of his 
 female slaves who swore that Clodius had entertained 
 
 * It was a matter of public notoriety that Clodius entertained 
 an incestuous commerce with his three sisters, and particularly 
 with Clodia. This infamous creature had married the celebrated 
 Lucullus, and after being repudiated by him, had become the 
 wife of the Consul Metellus Celer ! There can not be a stronger 
 illustration of the moral putrefaction of Rome at that epoch.
 
 468 APPENDIX. 
 
 a criminal intercourse with his sister, whilst she was 
 the wife of their master, who had repudiated her, not 
 only for that crime, but also for other acts of licen 
 tiousness. Several distinguished personages testified 
 as to facts by which it was intended to show that 
 Clodius had been guilty of perjury and peculation, 
 of electoral bribery and rape. Thus it is seen that 
 in Rome a criminal prosecution took a wide range. 
 The accused, when charged with a particular crime, 
 was subjected to a critical review of his whole life, 
 and all his past transgressions were invoked against 
 him as presumptive evidence of his having commit 
 ted the one for which he was tried. To this day the 
 criminal jurisprudence of France, which is derived to 
 some extent from the Romans, is tainted with the 
 same vicious and unjust mode of proceeding. 
 
 At last, at the request of the accuser, some of the 
 slaves of Clodius were interrogated as to the manner 
 in which he had passed his time during the evening 
 of the 4th of December. This was an exceptional 
 proceeding, authorized only in trials de religione. But 
 nothing was extracted from them which could crimi 
 nate the accused. 
 
 The evidence being closed on the part of the ac 
 cuser, the court adjourned to the next day. 
 
 On the 5th of May, early in the morning, the crowd 
 again took possession of the Forum not more nu 
 merous than on the preceding day that would have 
 been impossible but better disposed for Clodius, be 
 cause the night had been employed in gaining him 
 partisans. The court being in session, the witnesses 
 for the accused were called. 
 
 The first who presented himself declared that his 
 name was Caius Cassinius Schola, a Roman knight,
 
 APPENDIX. 469 
 
 residing in the city of Interamnium. After having 
 sworn to tell the truth, he said that, on the 4th of 
 December, Clodius, at nine o'clock in the evening, 
 had come to his house, where he had passed the rest 
 of the night, and that he had returned to Rome the 
 next day. 
 
 Lentulus asked Cassinius Schola what was the dis 
 tance between Rome and Interamnium. The witness 
 answered that it was about sixty-six miles ; that no 
 doubt it was difficult to admit that Clodius could have 
 been seen at both places on the same day, and at the 
 same hour, but that it was not for him, the witness, 
 to do away with this difficulty ; and that he consider 
 ed himself to be called upon to affirm only what was 
 to his personal knowledge. Several of the slaves of 
 Cassinius confirmed this declaration, which gave rise 
 to violent debates, often interrupted by the clamors 
 of the assembled multitude. 
 
 After the hearing of several other witnesses who 
 had been picked out from among the vilest creatures 
 attached to the service of Clodius, with a view to 
 corroborate the evidence of the alibi, which was the 
 capital point of the defense, there came the intro 
 duction of such witnesses as were needed to establish 
 the good and virtuous antecedents of Clodius and 
 his immaculate morality. It certainly required a 
 wonderful supply of brass for any one to publicly 
 endorse Clodius as a man having even the semblance 
 of virtue so well known was he to the whole com 
 munity ! Nevertheless, that class of witnesses proved 
 to be numerous, and composed even of many senators 
 on whose devotion Clodius had good reasons to rely. 
 Pompey himself had been cited to render the same 
 service to a man notoriously coated all over with
 
 470 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 vices and stained with every crime. But Pompey, at 
 least, did not come. Clodius brought also to testify 
 in his favor many notable citizens of neighboring 
 cities, particularly of Lanuvium, which was his birth 
 place and in which he exercised great influence. 
 
 The 5th of May having not sufficed to hear all 
 those whitewashing witnesses, the case was continued 
 to the 6th, and then the list being exhausted, the 
 tribunal adjourned to the 8th, allowing the /th for 
 the interval, or compercndinatio, which was required by 
 the law to elapse before the pleadings could be re 
 sumed. 
 
 The coming of the 8th of May was not looked to 
 without great apprehensions in Rome. An incident 
 had taken place on the last sitting of the court which 
 was a justifiable cause for those apprehensions. 
 Moved by the pathetic amplifications of the notables 
 of Lanuvium on the generous devotion of Clodius to 
 the interests of the poor of the plebeian class, a por 
 tion of the people had manifested much turbulence, 
 and the vociferations had been of an alarming nature. 
 For one moment the populace had broken into the 
 precincts of the tribunal, and threats had been pre 
 ferred both against the judges and against Cicero, 
 who, notwithstanding the moderation of his testi 
 mony, was supposed to be the instigator of the pros 
 ecution. Afraid of these demonstrations, which might 
 lead to acts of greater violence, some of the judges 
 had resolved not to take their seats, unless a guard 
 were granted for their protection. All the members 
 of the tribunal deliberated on the subject, and unani 
 mously voted, less one vote, for the furnishing of a 
 guard. The Senate, to which was referred the action 
 of the judges, approved of it, and issued orders in ac-
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 471 
 
 cordance with their desire. This measure gave great 
 satisfaction to all good citizens, and removed, to some 
 extent, their apprehensions. A large crowd went to 
 the house of Cicero to show their sense of his patriot 
 ism and eminent services. There was much rejoicing 
 among the sound part of the population when the 
 tribunal, so much distrusted at first, now gave signs 
 of its being determined to do courageously its duty. 
 Moreover, there were such precision and concordance 
 in the proofs adduced, they were so clear and so 
 overwhelming, the falsity of the alibi was so conclu 
 sively demonstrated, that nobody doubted that a ver 
 dict of guilty would be rendered. The accused him 
 self seemed resigned to his fate. Hortensius, rejoic 
 ing at having so accurately judged of the situation 
 when he suggested to the tribune Fufius the amend 
 ment which reconciled the people to the Senate's de 
 cree, offered to bet that Clodius would not present 
 himself on the next morning, but would prefer a vol 
 untary exile to exposing himself to the blow which 
 was sure to fall upon him. 
 
 On the said 8th of May, an immense multitude 
 came from the neighboring cities to see the end of 
 that memorable trial. At dawn, a troop of armed 
 men occupied the porticoes of the old hall of the 
 Forum. To the astonishment of his adversaries, Clo 
 dius made his appearance. His face was calm, and 
 his whole countenance was full of assurance. 
 
 When the court opened, it was addressed by Pub- 
 lius Lentulus, one of the accusers. After having de 
 scribed in his exordium the situation of the Republic, 
 and dwelt on the necessity of putting an end to the 
 civil discords which threatened it with absolute ruin, 
 the orator reviewed the antecedents of Clodius. " The
 
 4/2 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 accused," he said, " after the death of his father, par 
 ticipated with a sort of furious eagerness in all the 
 debaucheries of those suddenly enriched buffoons 
 who disgrace Rome, and sank so low into the mire of 
 infamy as to be guilty of incest with his own sisters. 
 When he reached the age of manhood, he embraced 
 the career of arms, and made himself conspicuous, not 
 by his talents and courage, but by the avidity with 
 which he surrendered himself to the shameful pas 
 sions of the Cilicians and other barbarians. Having 
 become infected by the new-fangled notions of the 
 day, he communicated the infection to the army, 
 which was commanded by Lucullus, his brother-in- 
 law, and to which he preached insubordination and 
 insurrection. Having failed in that criminal enter 
 prise, he is put on a vessel and sent back to Rome. 
 Attacked by pirates near Nisibis, he is too timid to 
 offer any resistance and is made prisoner. Set free 
 on account of the fear they had of Pompey, his pa 
 tron, he goes to Antioch, and then sneaks back to 
 Rome. After his return, how does he signalize him 
 self? By charging Catiline with peculation and by 
 taking hush-money for ignominiously dropping the 
 accusation ! Having departed for Gaul with Murena, 
 he manufactures in that province all sorts of false 
 statements, puts to death the minors and heirs that 
 are in his way, and associates himself with malefac 
 tors to perpetrate a number of crimes of astonishing 
 variety. Back to Rome again after all those exploits, 
 his first step is, to fraudulently appropriate to himself 
 certain sums of money belonging to the people, by 
 cutting the throats, in his own house, of the men who 
 had been charged with the distribution of those funds 
 among the tribes." Lentulus then went into a close
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 473 
 
 examination of the pending case, and discussed in de 
 tail the proofs relative to the fact of sacrilege on which 
 the trial was based. With regard to the alibi, it was 
 treated by his brother Lucius. The pontiff Fannius 
 took charge of the general recapitulation and of the 
 peroration. 
 
 The advocates of Clodius also divided among them 
 selves the defense in three parts. Curio spoke first ; 
 the largest portion of his speech was consecrated to 
 the justification of his client against the imputations 
 foreign to the case, by which Clodius had been, he 
 said, so malignantly assailed. " I beg the judges," 
 he added, " to weigh equitably in the scales of The 
 mis, on one side the calumnies of which my client is 
 the object from the nobles, and on the other, the con 
 stant devotion of that client to the popular interests. 
 He shows it by aspiring only to become a tribune of 
 the people. He has, O Romans, no other ambition ! 
 To obtain that single honor he has relinquished all his 
 patrician privileges. He has been adopted into a ple 
 beian family he who reckons among his ancestors 
 thirty-two consuls, five dictators, seven censors, and 
 seven triumphers ! His intentions and predilections 
 are known to all. Hence the hatred of the patricians, 
 and, in particular, of Cicero that new man, for 
 merly so proud of his plebeian origin when struggling 
 against the freedmen of Sylla, and to-day so infatu 
 ated with his upstart nobility that he systematically 
 opposes all reforms ! The sacrilege of which Clodius is 
 here accused is nothing but a pretext, and it is evident 
 that what in reality stands on trial now, is, on one 
 side, the preservation of the worm-eaten privileges of 
 the Roman aristocracy, and on the other, the devel 
 opment of the progressive theories which are spread-
 
 474 APPENDIX. 
 
 ing with such force, and which will be carried into 
 practical effect by the new generation. Do you know 
 who are the parties to this trial ? It is the usurped 
 wealth of the publicans against the excessive and 
 ever-increasing poverty of the oppressed class. This 
 quarrel does not date from the 4th of December, 692 ; 
 it is as old as the Republic itself, and the profaner of 
 the mysteries of the Good Goddess is shall I tell you 
 his true name? It was, in turn and successively, at 
 different epochs, Spurius Cassius, Licinius Stolo, Ti 
 berius and Caius Gracchus, and Servilius Rullus, who 
 all proposed laws, the object of which was to distrib 
 ute among our poor citizens the lands belonging, or 
 having belonged to the State, that were wrongfully 
 alienated." These last words of Curio were welcomed 
 with immense acclamations, and his friends thronged 
 around him to pour out their compliments. 
 
 The remainder of the defense was presented by the 
 other advocates, who attempted to destroy the proofs 
 of the identity of Clodius with the man seen in the 
 house of Caesar. One of them demonstrated the inno 
 cence of the accused by a syllogism, which he main 
 tained that nobody could strive to refute without im 
 piety. " We all know," he said, " that the Good 
 Goddess strikes with immediate blindness the viola 
 tor of her sacred mysteries. But Clodius has the en 
 tire use of his eyes. Hence Clodius can not have 
 violated the sacred mysteries." " Who can know," 
 exclaimed Cicero, " what the Good Goddess would do 
 on such an occasion, since no profanation of the kind 
 ever occurred before the one perpetrated by Clodius ? " 
 
 The praetor having declared the case closed, the 
 bailiffs delivered to each judge a tablet coated with 
 wax, and a bodkin. The judges wrote their votes im-
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 mediately and deposited them into three urns, cor 
 responding with the three Orders of which the tribu 
 nal was composed. The prastor took out successively 
 the fifty-six tablets, and read aloud the letter in 
 scribed on each one of them. The letter C, meaning 
 condemno I condemn was on twenty-five tablets, 
 and the letter A absolve I acquit on thirty-one. 
 This result being known, the praetor declared : that 
 Clodius seemed not to have committed the crime of 
 which he was accused (non fecisse videtur), and con 
 sequently pronounced his acquittal. The Forum rang 
 with thundering applause, and Clodius was escorted 
 triumphantly to his house by his partisans. 
 
 Cicero wrote to Atticus : " You know that bald- 
 head that Crassus, who lauded me so profusely in 
 the Senate ? Well ! In two days and through the me 
 dium of one single slave, he has brought thio whole 
 affair to its shameful conclusion ! He invited the 
 judges to his house, he promised, he furnished pledges 
 and guarantees he gave. Moreover (O Good Gods, 
 what corruption !), he threw into the bargain, as an 
 additional temptation, the prostitution of noble ma 
 trons and adolescents." In later times the scandal of 
 this immortal trial was branded by Seneca with sin 
 gular energy : " The acquittal," he said, " was more 
 criminal than the crime. The adulterer made a dis 
 tribution of adulteries among the judges, and thought 
 himself safe only when he had rendered them similar 
 to himself." 
 
 The deeds of corruption had been so patent and 
 the demoralization of the epoch had reached such a 
 degree of brazen impudence, that the agents of that 
 corruption boasted openly 'of what they had done. 
 The names of the prevaricating judges were men-
 
 476 APPENDIX. 
 
 tioned publicly, and without the slightest reserve, as 
 well as the bribe which each one had received. Catu- 
 lus said to one of them : " Why did you ask for 
 guards? Were you afraid of being robbed of the 
 money which bribed you ? " 
 
 On the 1 5th of May there was an assembly of the 
 Senate. Cicero, who, from the beginning of the trial, 
 had determined to act with the greatest reserve, could 
 not resist the excitement of the occasion and perhaps 
 the perfidious goadings of th secret enemies who 
 surrounded him. Roused into making a speech, he 
 allowed himself to be betrayed into the most bitter 
 vituperations against the judges who had sold them 
 selves, and did not spare even Consul Piso, whom he 
 treated with a harshness that could hardly be sur 
 passed. " Conscript fathers," he said, "you must not 
 shrink from the performance of duty, because you 
 have met with one defeat, and you must not permit 
 yourselves to be discouraged. That defeat, it is true, 
 is of such a nature that it must not be disregarded, 
 but at the same time its gravity must not be exagger 
 ated. It would be insensate to close our eyes to the 
 danger, but there would be cowardice in attaching 
 more importance to it than it deserves. Lentulus 
 and Catiline were acquitted twice. It is but another 
 bandit whom the judges have set free to plot against 
 the Republic. You must not, O Clodius, deceive 
 yourself with any flattering illusion. The judges 
 have given you Rome for a prison. In not condemning 
 you, they wished to deprive you of the liberty of 
 exile. Take courage then, O conscript fathers ! Do 
 not forfeit any portion of your dignity. Honest men 
 have still faith in the destinies of the Republic. Their 
 hearts have been filled with grief, but their fortitude
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 477 
 
 remains intact. The evil is not new ; but to-day it 
 bears its fruits. A malefactor, loaded with crimes, 
 has found judges as infamous as himself." 
 
 Clodius was present, and such language was hard to 
 bear. He was called to his feet by Cicero's violent 
 apostrophe. " How long," he exclaimed, "shall we 
 suffer that this King shall thus dare to speak to us 
 like a master ? " " Do you call me King," (rex] said 
 Cicero, "because you have a grudge against the 
 memory of your brother-in-law, Marcus Rex, for hav 
 ing forgotten you in his testament ? " " You have 
 bought a house," replied Clodius, " with money re 
 ceived from your client, Publius Sylla, in violation of 
 the law Cencia, which forbids advocates from accept 
 ing any remuneration for their services." " Bought ! " 
 exclaimed Cicero. " Are you thinking of your 
 judges? " " My judges ! They did not believe your 
 testimony, although given on oath." " Twenty-five 
 believed it," retorted Cicero, " but thirty-one did not 
 put any faith in you, since they compelled you to pay 
 them in advance." This last sarcasm overwhelmed 
 Clodius, who could not conceal his confusion, and who 
 resumed his seat amidst shouts of derision. 
 
 The Senate, alarmed at the consequences which 
 might result from the impunity of the crime commit 
 ted by Clodius, ordered an inquest against the judges 
 who had been corrupted. This was, however, des 
 tined to be a brutum fulmen, in the condition to which 
 the Republic had been reduced. It would have been 
 wise not to propose a vain measure which could not 
 be executed, and Cicero said in a letter to Atticus 
 that he would have opposed it, had he been present. 
 The Order of the Knights, who, it seems, had many 
 reasons to fear the investigation, considered it a di-
 
 478 APPENDIX. 
 
 rect attack and separated from the Senate, from which 
 they resolved to withdraw their support in any future 
 conflict with the people. The inquest ordered by 
 the Senate was, of course, a stillborn infant. There 
 was no attempt to give life to it ; there was substi 
 tuted for it a general law against judicial corruption, 
 but the people refused to ratify it. A striking illus 
 tration of the moral condition of Rome at that 
 epoch ! 
 
 Shortly after, Clodius, in violation of all law and 
 precedent, in which he was secretly assisted by Pom- 
 pey and Caesar, became, as he had long intended, a 
 tribune of the people on his renouncing his patrician 
 rank and privileges. Armed with the new power to 
 which he had aspired, he burned the house of Cicero 
 on Mount Palatine, another at Tusculum, and a third 
 at Formia, and Cicero voluntarily exiled himself to 
 escape from a worse fate. Clodius enjoyed his re 
 venge, until the gladiators of Milo put an end to his 
 scandalous career. 
 
 As soon as public and private virtue ceased to 
 exist in Rome, the Republic virtually perished. 
 It continued to subsist in name and in semblance 
 not in its former reality and vigorous vitality. 
 This was demonstrated in the trial of Clodius and 
 in the scenes which preceded and followed that 
 event. The day was rapidly coming when Brutus 
 would be compelled to exclaim : " O virtue, thou art 
 but a name ! " On that day, when it came, the death 
 warrant of the Republic was signed by Fate that 
 stern executor of eternal and inflexible laws. An 
 imperial despotism became a necessity, as being a 
 lesser evil than anarchy. Everything in the social 
 body was for sale from head to foot. The conquerors
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 479 
 
 of the world were openly bought like slaves in the 
 market-place. The gold of Crassus elected Caesar 
 consul, and Cato himself, to defeat that dangerous 
 candidate, admitting in full Senate that bribery had 
 become an indispensable element of influence, recom 
 mended its use " for good purposes in opposition to 
 its being employed for evil ones." But Caesar was 
 the highest bidder, and therefore obtained the major 
 ity of the popular vote ; the Republic was dead 
 and we all know what Cato did to escape what he 
 thought to be the infamy of living under a master. 
 The people shrank into being insignificant factors in 
 the distribution of power; they were succeeded by 
 the Pretorian guards and the legions, who became 
 the electors at the ballot-box of the sword, and who 
 recognized but one authority one sovereign on 
 earth one God above and that was gold ! Alas ! 
 It is but too easy for one who studies thoroughly the 
 annals of mankind, to be a true prophet the same 
 causes invariably producing the same effects ; but if 
 there is anything that is entitled to be called "The 
 voice in the wilderness," it is emphatically the voice 
 of History.
 
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