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 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 MIRABEAU. 
 
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RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 MIRABEAU, 
 
 AND OF THE 
 
 TWO FIRST LEGISLATIVE ASSEMBLIES 
 
 FRANCE. 
 
 BY 
 
 ETIENNE DUMONT 
 
 OF GENEVA. 
 
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 CAREY & LEA— CHESTNUT STREET 
 1833. 
 
({ JUL ^ 1B8E 
 
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CONTENTS 
 
 Preface by the English Editor. . . xviii 
 
 Preface by the Genevese Editor. . . . xxiii 
 
 CHAPTER I. y 
 
 Motives which induced the author to write these 
 Recollections. The revolution of Geneva in 1789, 
 determines his departure for Paris with M. Du- 
 roverai. Desire of taking advantage of M, Nec- 
 ker's return to office to do something in favour of 
 the Genevese exiles. Origin of the author's 
 acquaintance with Mirabeau. Journey to Paris 
 with Sir Samuel Romilly in 1788. Mirabeau's 
 residence in England in 1784. His activity and 
 industry as a writer. His reputation at Paris in 
 1788. First interview with Mirabeau. Some 
 traits of his private character. His work on the 
 Prussian monarchy. Major Mauvillon the princi- 
 pal author. Quarrel between M. de Calonne and 
 M. Necker about the deficit. M. Necker's answer. 
 Mirabeau forms the project of replying. Why he 
 
Vi CONTENTS. 
 
 abandons it. Visit to Bicetre and the Salpetriere. 
 Romilly writes an energetic description of them. 
 Mirabeau translates it. Discussion between Mira- 
 beau, de Bourges and Claviere. Dupont de Ne- 
 mours. Anecdotes. Champfort. A saying of 
 Mirabeau on Champfort. General feeling in polite 
 circles at Paris. Some traits of the private cha- 
 racter of Sir Samuel Romilly. Note given to the 
 author by Mirabeau. . . . . . 41 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Journey from London to Paris in 1789. Elections 
 of deputies at the bailliages. Regulations for the 
 election, made whilst breakfasting at Montreuil- 
 sur-Mer. Success of these regulations. Inter- 
 view with M. Necker. Residence at Claviere's at 
 Surene. Committees at Claviere's and Brissot's. 
 The Duke de la Rouchefoucauld. Confusion of 
 ideas at this period. Saying of Lauraguais. 
 Right of representation claimed by Palissot. As- 
 sem.bly of the sections. Difficulty of proceeding. 
 Assembly of electors. M. Duval-d'Espremenil. 
 M. de Lauraguais, bourgeois of Paris, Opening 
 of the states-general. Aspect of the tiers-Hat. 
 Reflection upon the verification of the powers. 61 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 How Mirabeau was situated in the assembly, on the 
 opening of the states-general- His bitterness 
 
CONTENTS. VU 
 
 against the assembly. Conversations on this sub- 
 ject. The author engages him to be more mode- 
 rate. Intimacy between Mirabeau and Duroverai. 
 Little committees. Duroverai's plan for bringing 
 Necker and Mirabeau together. Adopted by Mal- 
 louet. Difficulty of an interview. It takes place. 
 Mirabeau's saying on Necker. Embassy to Con- 
 stantinople. Ottoman Encyclopaedia. Mirabeau's 
 first triumph at the tribune. Debut of Robespierre. . 
 Efiect of his speech. Saying of M. Reybaz con- 
 cerning him. Sieyes, his character and habits. 
 The bishop of Chartres. Anecdotes of this pre- 
 late • . . 73 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Inaction of the tiers during the disputes of the orders. 
 Its effect upon the public. Motion of Sieyes upon 
 the title of the assembly. Title of national as- 
 sembly proposed. This question debated between 
 the author, Duroverai and Mirabeau. The latter 
 determines to oppose this title. Speech written by 
 the author in the hall of the assembly. Mirabeau 
 adopts it. Its effect upon the assembly. Author's 
 anxiety. Sieyes's motion carried. Its effect. Du- 
 roverai forms the plan of a royal session. Mallouet 
 undertakes to communicate it to Necker. This 
 plan concealed from Mirabeau. It is spoiled by 
 the influence of the court party. Royal session. 
 Its effect upon the assembly and the public. Re- 
 flections. Circumstance which determined Nec- 
 ker to absent himself. Mirabeau's anger against 
 
viii CONTBNTSo 
 
 Duroveraio What he thinks of Necker. His 
 opinion upon the session. .... 92 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Agitation of the people after the royal session. 
 Cause of this agitation. Saying of Sieyes on the 
 Breton club. Attitude of the court. Arrival 
 of troops. Mirabeau's speech. Address to the 
 king. Mirabeau undertakes to write it. Con- 
 fides this task to the author. Anecdote. General 
 uneasiness. Supposed projects of the court. Mi- 
 rabeau fears being arrested. Character of the 
 king on his arrival. Death of the Marquis de 
 Mirabeau. Work upon the events of the revolu- 
 tion 112 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Courrier de Provence. Its origin. Partnership 
 between the author. Duroverai and Mirabeau, 
 Success of this journal. Negligence and dishon- 
 esty of the bookseller. Annoyances. Embar- 
 rassment of Mirabeau. His connexion with 
 Madame le Jay. The journal has a new editor. 
 It begins to fall. New arrangements. Judg- 
 ments upon the Courrier de Provence. What 
 ultimately became of it. ... 126 
 
CONTENTS. Ili IX 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Complete union of the orders. Aspect of the as- 
 sembly. Address to the people. Mirabeau re- 
 quests the author to write it. Cause of its want of 
 success. Weakness of the assembly regarding the 
 tumults. Fear and mistrust of the government. 
 Cause of it. General opinion in favour of the re- 
 volution. Causes which led to an alteration in 
 their opinion. Work of Burke. Declaration of 
 the rights of man. Discussion. Opinion of the 
 author and of Mirabeau on this subject. Sitting 
 of the 4th of August. Reflection upon it. Anger 
 of Sieyes. His opinion. That of Mirabeau upon 
 the assembly. Effect of this sitting upon the peo- 
 ple 134 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Discussion upon the veto. Marquis de Caseaux and 
 his speech. Difficulties of Mirabeau in reading it. 
 Anecdote. Public opinion. Improper mode of 
 proceeding in the assembly. Impatience of show- 
 ing off. Love of making motions. Some traits 
 of French character. Compared with the English. 
 Regulations by Romilly. Rejected by the assem- 
 bly. Opinion of Brissot, Sieyes, &c. upon Eng- 
 land. Saying of Duroverai. Mirabeau applies it 
 to Mounier. ....... 148 
 
# 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Camille Desmoulins. LaClos. His connexion with 
 Mirabeau. Was Mirabeau acting in concert with 
 the Duke of Orleans ? Facts for and against. 
 Translation from Milton against royalty. Du- 
 roverai prevents its publication. Saying of Mira- 
 beau upon the events of Paris. His conduct on 
 the 4th and 5th of October. Aspect of the inte- 
 rior of the assembly. Anecdotes. Desertion of 
 several deputies. . . . . . 159 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Discussion upon finances. Mirabeau's reasons for 
 supporting M. Necker. Effect of his speech. 
 Singular compliment paid to Mirabeau by Mole. 
 Address to the nation. Mirabeau confides to the 
 author the task of writing it. Want of success of 
 this address. Mirabeau proposes a vote of thanks 
 to Lafayette and Bailly. What determined him. 
 Project for bringing Mirabeau into office. Motion 
 to prevent it. Civic inscription. Proposal of 
 Sieyes. Mirabeau brings it forward. Law con- 
 cerning bankrupts. Martial law. . . 173 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Connexion of Mirabeau with the court. Confidence 
 on this subject. Plan of a counter-revolution by 
 Mirabeau. King's departure. Basis of the plan. 
 Appeal to the nation. Decrees of the assembly 
 annulled. Immediate convocation of another as- 
 sembly. Surprise of the author. His resolution. 
 Conversation and discussion of the plan. Mira- 
 beau promises to renounce it. Another mode is 
 adopted. The Marquis de Favras. His trial. 
 Uneasiness of Mirabeau. Discussion on church 
 property. P6Iin author of Mirabeau's speeches 
 on this subject. His connexion with Mirabeau. 
 Anecdotes. . ..... 186 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Mirabeau's habits changed. His house. Luxury. 
 Expenses. He refuses to take his father's title. 
 Receives 20,000 francs a month. His connexion 
 with Prince Louis d'Aremberg. Quarrel between 
 Mirabeau, Clavifere and Duroverai. The author 
 reconciles them. Gradual election. Idea of the 
 author. Mirabeau's motion. Barnave opposes it. 
 Mirabeau abandons it. Reflections. . . 203 
 
XII M CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 Author's departure. Motives. Barrere. Barnave. 
 Petion. Target. Mnlouet. Volney. Robes- 
 pierre. Morellet. Necker. Champfort. Re- 
 turn to Paris with Achille Duchatelet. His cha- 
 racter. Anecdotes. Conversation vi^ith Mirabeau. 
 His connexion with the queen. He directs the 
 court party. Report of diplomatic committee. 
 Author's share in it. Anecdote. Increased ex- 
 pense in Mirabeau's style of living. Remark of 
 the author. The Abbe Lamourette, Mirabeau 
 president of the assembly. Opinion thereon. Mi- 
 rabeau's ill health. His forebodings. Emotion 
 on taking leave of the author. He prophecies on 
 the fate of France. His death. . . .213 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Private life of Mirabeau. Anecdote on his mar- 
 riage. Correspondence with Madame Mounier. 
 How he wrote it. Portrait of Mirabeau. Con- 
 sidered as an author. Distinctive characteristic of 
 his writings. As a political author. His good 
 qualities. Defects. Compared with Fox, with 
 Barnave. His private habits. As member of the 
 assembly. Venality. Saying on this subject. 
 Despair at not enjoying a spotless reputation. Plis 
 vanity. Saying of the author. Public character 
 of Mirabeau. His object Designs, Cause of 
 
CONTENTS. XIU 
 
 their failure. Charactoristic trait of his genius. 
 Political sagacity. Powers of prophecy. Know- 
 ledge of mankind. . . . . . 232 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Detached anecdotes. Mirabeau's habit of giving 
 nicknames. How he designated Sieyes, d'Espre- 
 menil, Lafayette, Necker, Claviere. His opinion 
 of Washington. Saying concerning the assembly. 
 Annoyance at praise bestowed upon mediocrity. 
 Saying of the author on this subject. Viscount de 
 Mirabeau. Laughable answer. Personal courage 
 of Mirabeau. Adored by his domestics. Visit to 
 the Bastille. His friendship for Cabanis. Cause 
 of his death. Last moments. Legacy to the as- 
 sembly. Activity. Hopes of becoming minister. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 Author's return to Paris. Flight of the king to 
 Varennes. Aspect of the assembly. Effect of 
 the king's flight upon the people. Shade of Mira- 
 beau. Project of a paper. Its object. Why re- 
 nounced- Paine at Paris. Confidence of Ducha- 
 telet. Placard in favour of the republic. Con- 
 dorcet becomes a republican. Claviere, Brissot, 
 Petion, &c. discuss the question. Origin of this 
 opinion. Condorcct's motives and influence., 
 Lameth, Barnave, &c. join the king. The author 
 returns to London with Paine. Opinion on this 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 writer. Details given by d'Andre on the assem- 
 bly. His complaints. Reflections. Supposed 
 dialogue between d'Andr6 and his servant, recited 
 by Sieyes. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 General reflections on the revolution. Its causes. 
 Nine causes of the faults of the assembly. Hete- 
 rogeneous composition. Bad mode of carrying on 
 proceedings. Immutability of constitutional de- 
 crees. Fear of a counter-revolution. Emigration. 
 
 • Affiliation and institution of the Jacobins. Wrong 
 measures of the court party, &c. Causes of the 
 fall of the constitution. Unity of the assembly. 
 Absolute independence. Ineligibility of the 
 members of the first assembly to the second. Im- 
 mutability of the constitutional laws. Opinion on 
 the national assembly. Author regrets his want 
 of memory and curiosity. .... 284 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Arrival of Petion in London. Object of his journey. 
 How accomplished. D'Andre. His character. 
 His talents. Persecuted by Brissot. Some par- 
 ticulars concerning Brissot's character. Talley- 
 rand. Anecdotes. Object in coming to Lon- 
 don. Reception by the king and queen. Author 
 returns to Paris. Reasons. Accompanies Talley- 
 rand and Duroverai. ..... 294 
 
CONTENTS, XV 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Arrival at Paris. Conversation with Talleyrand. 
 Anecdote on the consecration of the clergy. As- 
 pect of the legislative aasembly. Divided into 
 three parties. The king governed by the Feuil- 
 lans. Girondists. Their object. M. de Lessart. 
 Impeachment by Brissot. Author reproaches 
 Brissot. Reflections. De Graves. Anecdotes. 
 Author secretly consulted on the choice of a war 
 minister. Speech to bring the Girondists into 
 power, made by Gensonne. Petion's speeches. 
 Vergniaud. Guadet. Gensonne, Buzot. Rce- 
 derer. Condorcet. ..... 304 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The author taken to Roland's. Character of the lat- 
 ter. Madame Roland. Memoirs. Servan. Lou- 
 vet. Lanthenas. Pache. Claviere is appointed 
 minister. His life and character. His ambition. 
 Activity. Madame Claviere. Her illness. Cause 
 of recovery. Legislative assembly and Giron- 
 dists. . . 322 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 Declaration of war against Austria. Reticences in 
 the memoirs of Dumouriez. Austrian committee, 
 
XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 Brissot desirous of war. Duchatelet refutes the 
 objection of the desertion of old officers. Din- 
 ners at Claviere's and Dumouriez's. Gaiety of 
 Louvet and Dumouriez. The latter communicates 
 to the author his report on the war. Condorcet's 
 weakness. Appointment of an embassy to Eng- 
 land. Talleyrand. Chauvelin. Hesitation. Du- 
 mouriez puts an end to them. Garat. Embassy 
 badly received in London. Pitt and Chauvelin. 
 The embassy at Ranelagh. The public shun them. 
 The Duke of Orleans. .... 334 
 
 CHAPTER XXH. 
 
 Object of the embassy. Maintenance of peace. 
 Work of Garat. 10th of August. Talleyrand 
 goes to Paris. Presses the author to accom- 
 pany, him. Refusal. Motives. The Genevese 
 government request him to proceed to Paris. 
 Army at the gates of Geneva. Montesquiou. 
 Travels with an Irish quaker who is come to 
 France to make proselytes. Arrival at Paris. The 
 author determines Brissot and Clavi^re to support ' 
 the Genevese treaty. Gasc sent by the republic. 
 Dinner at Claviere's. Lebrun's ode. Secret 
 confided to the author by Gensonne. Intrigues 
 by Grenus. The author proceeds to Geneva. 353 
 
 Appendix. . . . . . . . 369 
 
PREFACE 
 
 ENGLISH EDITOR 
 
 There is no public character whose actions 
 have been more the subject of misrepresenta- 
 tion, and over v\^hom calumny has had greater 
 sv\^ay, than the Count de Mirabeau. He is 
 known in this country rather as one of the 
 most profligate promoters of the French revo- 
 lution, than as the most extraordinary man 
 of his age, in those surpassing endowments 
 of mind in which he far surpassed all the 
 great luminaries of that brilliant period; and 
 it has been reserved for Dumont, a man of 
 high character and unsullied principles, to 
 rescue his name from the blind obloquy by 
 
XVlll PREFACE BY 
 
 which it has been so long and so unjustly ob- 
 scured. 
 
 With all his vices, and they were by no 
 means few, Mirabeau had many redeeming 
 qualities. The former have been exaggerated 
 with all the virulence of party hatred, while the 
 latter have been concealed with equal malignity. 
 This is unjust. A man, whatever be his errors, 
 should go to posterity with the benefit of his 
 good as well as the odium of his evil qualities. 
 
 In these Recollections, Dumont, the friend of 
 Mirabeau, has concealed nothing, nor has he "set 
 down aught in malice." He has not shrunk 
 from the task of exposing the blemishes of a 
 master-mind, at the same time that he exhibits 
 the splendour of its superior endowments. He 
 has candidly stated Mirabeau's good and bad 
 qualities without disguise, and while it will ap- 
 pear that there is much to despise, it will be 
 found that upon the whole, there is perhaps more 
 to admire. Justice has been rendered to an 
 erring but illustrious man. 
 
 With all his vices, Mirabeau was an ardent 
 patriot. The good of his country was mingled 
 even With his dying aspirations, and the love 
 
THE ENGLISH EDITOR. xix 
 
 of France ceased in his heart but with his last 
 breath. His great powers of intellect and tran- 
 scendant eloquence maintained his popularity 
 through all the fluctuating changes attendant 
 upon one of the greatest political convulsions 
 ever recorded in history ; and by the ascendency 
 of his energetic mind, he awed Robespierre and 
 the jacobin anarchists into harmless insignifi- 
 cance. Had his life been spared, there is no 
 doubt that the French revolution would have 
 taken another direction, and the horrible ex- 
 cesses of the reign of terror never have blackened 
 the page of French political regeneration. His 
 death was the knell of the French monarchy ; — 
 the glory of a long line of kings was buried in 
 the grave of Mirabeau. 
 
 Dumont's Recollections contain the most 
 valuable materials for history. Facts hitherto 
 unknown, the secret causes of many of those 
 great and surprising events which have puzzled 
 the acutest research of the historian, are laid 
 open. However we may regret that the work 
 remains unfinished, we cannot but be thankful 
 for the abundance of information supplied by 
 these Recollections, every page of which is of 
 
XX PREFACE BY 
 
 momentous interest. Our regret arises from 
 the very perfection of the work even in its un- 
 finished state ; and had Dumont found leisure 
 to fill up the periods connecting its different parts, 
 and to give his promised account of the revolu- 
 tions of Geneva, subsequent to that of 17S9, 
 and in which he was himself an actor, this 
 volume would form the completest compendium 
 of the French revolution ever given to the public. 
 In reflecting upon the events contained in 
 this book, the philosophic mind cannot but be 
 forcibly struck with the disproportion between 
 causes and effects in political convulsions, when 
 once the edifice of the state has begun to totter 
 upon its foundations. On these occasions, the 
 most insignificant circumstance, like the chance 
 spark which, unperceived, may slowly spread its 
 latent flame and ultimately destroy the noblest 
 edifice, often leads to astounding results, even to 
 the ruin of states and the overthrow of empires. 
 Such was the case in France ;— and such will 
 be the case in all revolutions proceeding from 
 the same causes. It is a lamentable fact that 
 governments founded upon the barbarous re- 
 mains of feudality — and most governments of 
 
THE ENGLISH EDITOR. XXI 
 
 modern ages are in this predicament — naturally 
 divide the state into two classes, whose hostility 
 to each other is instinctive. A few privileged 
 individuals hold the reins of power, and for their 
 own interest and advantage, oppress the great 
 mass of the people. When at length the latter 
 discover and claim their just rights, those rights 
 should be fairly and frankly admitted, otherwise 
 the authority by whom they are withheld must 
 ultimately, even in the absence of tumult and 
 bloodshed, be crushed by the inert preponde- 
 rance alone of the discontented mass of the 
 population. Had this self-evident principle 
 been admitted by the blind and bigotted aristo- 
 cracy of France, no convulsions would have 
 taken place, nor would the freedom of the 
 French people have been cemented with blood. 
 The inveterate and unjust prejudices of the 
 nobles, and more particularly of the members 
 of the royal family — which even five and 
 twenty years of misfortune and exile could not 
 eradicate — ^led immediately to those first excesses 
 which showed the people their strength and 
 betrayed the weakness of the government. It 
 is singular that neither the fruits of experience, 
 nor the pangs of personal suflTering, can rectify 
 
Xxii ENGLISH editor's PREFACE. 
 
 the warpings of the human mind ; and in the 
 feelings which, in 1789, induced the Count 
 d'Artois to convert the conciliatory object of the 
 royal session into the immediate cause of the 
 first revolutionary insurrections, may be traced 
 the same spirit of bigotry, which in 1830 led 
 him, as Charles X, to issue the ordinances by 
 which he lost his crown. 
 
 Numerous other examples might be adduced 
 which would form a collection of valuable les- 
 sons for kings and statesmen. But alas ! man 
 profits not by the experience of others — often- 
 times not by his own ; and it is not until we 
 have obstinately and wickedly brought on the 
 evil, that we choose, amid the pangs of tardy 
 and useless repentance, to open our eyes to 
 truth! 
 
 In oflfering Dumont's ideas to the public in 
 an English garb, it only remains for the English 
 editor to add that his sole aim has been to give 
 the author's meaning with clearness and preci- 
 sion. If he has failed, it is not from want of 
 zeal and attention. 
 
 G. H. C. 
 
 London, 29ih March, 1832. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 BY THE 
 
 GENEVESE EDITOR 
 
 It is not my intention to write a biographical 
 notice of M. Etienne Dumont. Two illus- 
 trious authors, M. de Candolle and M. de Sis- 
 mondi, have already paid their tribute of admi- 
 ration to the memory of their departed friend 
 and fellow-countryman. I cannot do better 
 than refer the reader to the Bihliotheque uni- 
 verselle^^ and the Revue encyclopedique^-\ in 
 which they have deposited, with all the warmth 
 of friendship, the expression of their regret at 
 
 * Bihliotheque universelle, November 1829. 
 t Revue encyclopediqitc^ vol. 44, p. 258. 
 
XXIV PREFACE BY 
 
 the loss which our country, science and litera- 
 ture have just sustained. 
 
 To render, however, the present work more 
 intelligible, it is necessary that I should trace, 
 in as rapid a sketch as possible, the principal 
 circumstances of the author's life, especially 
 those preceding the period to which the work 
 alludes. When I have explained his connexion 
 with politics and political men, long before 1789, 
 and the rank which he has since held, in the 
 literary world, it will be more easy to under- 
 stand how he, a stranger to France and to the 
 great acts of the French revolution, should have 
 been able to relate facts hitherto unknown, and 
 have acquired the right of passing judgment 
 upon men and events. 
 
 M. Etienne Dumont, of Geneva, spent the 
 early part of his life in his native country, where 
 his talents as a preacher gained him well de- 
 served renown. In 1783, he left Geneva, in 
 consequence of its political troubles, and went 
 to St Petersburgh to join some members of his 
 family who had settled there. During a resi- 
 dence of eighteen months in this city, he 
 was equally successful, and obtained the high 
 
THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXV 
 
 consideration due to his merit and noble cha- 
 racter. 
 
 He left St Petersburgh in 1785, and went 
 to London to reside with Lord Shelburne, then 
 a minister of state, who confided to him the 
 general education of his sons. Lord Shelburne, 
 afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne, soon dis- 
 covered the great talents of M. Dumont, whom 
 he made his friend. It was in the house of 
 this minister that he became acquainted with 
 some of the most illustrious men of the country ; 
 and amongst others, with Sheridan, Fox, Lord 
 Holland, Sir Samuel Romilly and Mr Brougham, 
 then a barrister, now Lord High Chancellor of 
 England. 
 
 His connexion with these distinguished in. 
 dividuals, founded upon friendship, similarity 
 of opinions and literary occupations, and the 
 pursuit of great objects of public utility, gave 
 them full opportunities of appreciating his high 
 worth. He was generally known to be a man 
 of profound knowledge, correct judgment, irre- 
 proachable character, and lively and brilliant 
 wit. Each did him justice during his life, and 
 
 D 
 
XXVI PREFACE BY 
 
 they who have survived him continue to honour 
 his memory. 
 
 He formed a very particular intimacy with 
 Sir Samuel Romilly, a man equally distinguished 
 by his private virtues and his great talents as a 
 lawyer and a political orator. The friendship 
 which united these two men, increased daily, 
 nor did its activity cease till the death of Sir 
 Samuel Romilly. M. Dumont was inconsola- 
 ble for this loss, and never mentioned his de- 
 parted friend without tears. 
 
 In 1788, they undertook a journey to Paris 
 together, and it was under Sir Samuel Romilly 's 
 auspices that M. Dumont first became acquainted 
 with Mirabeau. During a sojourn of two months 
 in the French capital, he saw the latter every 
 day, and a certain affinity of talents and intel- 
 lect led to an ultimate connexion between two 
 men so opposed to each other in habits and cha- 
 racter. It was on his return from Paris, that 
 Dumont began his acquaintance with the cele- 
 brated Bentham, which had so complete an in- 
 fluence over his future opinions and writingSy 
 and fixed, as it were, his career as a writer on 
 legislation. 
 
THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXVH 
 
 Dumoiit, penetrated with a lively admiration 
 for the genius of this extraordinary man, and 
 profoundly struck with the truth of his theory 
 and the consequences to w^hich it so naturally 
 led, applied all his talents to make the writings 
 of the English publicist known, and devoted 
 the greater part of his life in rendering availa- 
 ble to the world at large, the exhaustless store 
 of knowledge which the ever active genius of 
 Mr Bentham was always increasing.* 
 
 In 1789, M. Dumont suspended his labours 
 in England to proceed to Paris with M. Duro- 
 verai, ex- attorney-general of the republic of 
 Geneva. The object of this journey was to ob- 
 tain, through the return of M. Necker to office, 
 and the events then passing in France, an unre- 
 stricted restoration of Genevese liberty, by can- 
 
 * The following works are the result of this labour : 1° Trea- 
 tises on legislation^ published in 1822, in 3 vols, 8vo, now in 
 their third edition ; 2° Theory of punishments and rewards^ 2 
 vols, 8vo, also in its third edition ; 3" Tactics of legislative 
 assemblies, two editions, 1815 and 1822 ; 4° Judicial evidence, 
 published in 1823, and a second edition in 1830 j 5«* Judicial 
 organization and codification, 1 vol. published in 1828. I do 
 not here mention the numerous editions published in foreign 
 countries. 
 
XXVlll PREFACE BY 
 
 celling the treaty of guarantee between France 
 and Switzerland, which prevented the republic 
 from enacting new laws without the consent of 
 the parties to this treaty. The necessary steps 
 to which this mission gave rise, brought M. 
 Dumont into connexion with most of the lead- 
 ing men in the constituent assembly, and made 
 him an interested spectator, sometimes a par- 
 ticipator in the events of the French revolution. 
 The importance of the changes about to be 
 operated, and the immense interest which this 
 period inspired, determined M. Dumont to 
 follow closely the course of events. Like all 
 the other generous and elevated minds in Eu- 
 rope, he offered up his vows for the realization 
 of the great hopes to w^hich the first proceed- 
 ings of the national assembly had given rise, 
 and was desirous of assisting at occurrences 
 which he considered the forerunners of a new 
 political era. His former acquaintance with 
 Mirabeau was renewed immediately after his 
 return to Paris, and it contributed to prolong 
 his residence in France, during which he co- 
 operated in many of the works of that cele- 
 brated man ; but being afterwards attacked in 
 
THE GENEVESE EDITOR. xxix 
 
 pamphlets and other periodicals as one of Mi- 
 rabeau's writers, he felt much hurt at his name 
 being mentioned publicly, and determined to 
 return to England. The reputation of being a 
 subaltern writer was, as he himself states, by no 
 means flattering, and that of an influential con- 
 nexion with a man whose character was not 
 untainted, alarmed his delicacy. From that 
 period he sedulously employed his time in pre- 
 paring Mr Bentham's manuscripts for publica- 
 tion. 
 
 In 1814, the restoration of Geneva to inde- 
 pendence, induced M. Dumont to return to that 
 city, which, subsequently, he never quitted for 
 any length of time. Until 1829, he devoted 
 his talents to his country, to which he rendered 
 very eminent services. It would be a w^ork of 
 supererogation to recall his claims to the grati- 
 tude of his fellow-citizens. All know and 
 acknowledge how much they are indebted to 
 his patriotism and devotion ; and to the general 
 mass of readers such details would present but 
 little interest. In the autumn of 1829, he 
 undertook a tour of pleasure to the north of Italy 
 in company with one of his friends, M. Bellamy 
 
XXX PREFACE BY 
 
 Aubert;* and his family were impatiently 
 expecting his return, when they received the 
 news of his death. They who were intimate 
 with him can alone appreciate the charm which 
 his goodness of heart, his active benevolence, 
 and his great talents threw around him. He 
 loved to encourage youth, and could make him- 
 self the companion of all who approached him. 
 Men of all ages and professions were sure to find, 
 in his inexhaustible kindness and remarkable 
 conversation, interest, advice, information and 
 pleasure. 
 
 Among the many unpublished works which 
 M. Dumont's friendship, much more than his 
 thirst for renown, confided to my care, I have 
 selected for publication, in preference to any 
 other, the one which appeared to me the best 
 calculated to make him known in a literary 
 
 * I cannot suffer this opportunity to pass without publicly 
 expressing the gratitude entertained by M. Dumont's family 
 towards M. Bellamy Auberf, whose active friendship and affec- 
 tionate attentions soothed the last moments of his friend. This 
 consolatory circumstance, in so painful an event, can alone in 
 some degree assuage the grief produced by a death so unexpected, 
 which at a distance from his family and country, carried off a 
 man in whose heart the love of both predominated. 
 
THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXXI 
 
 capacity different from that upon which he 
 founded his honourable fame. It also appeared 
 to me that a work, like the present, would 
 diminish in value, in proportion to the distance 
 of its publication from the events it records and 
 the persons whom it makes known. This work, 
 besides, contains materials for history which it 
 is but just to submit to the judgment and criti- 
 cism of those best able to appreciate them, I 
 mean the contemporaries of the great epoch to 
 which they refer. I must likewise state that 
 of M. Dumont's other posthumous works, some 
 are not finished, whilst others, written by parts 
 and at different times, are not in a fit state to 
 appear before the public. A last work of revi- 
 sion is yet necessary for the purpose either of 
 placing the different detached portions in the 
 order pointed out by their author, or of separa- 
 ting the parts that are terminated and publishing 
 them in a miscellaneous form. But all these 
 reasons, derived from the subject itself, were not 
 the only ones which fixed my determination. 
 I was influenced in my choice principally from 
 a desire of showing M. Dumont in a work en- 
 tirely his own. Hitherto he has been known 
 
XXXll PREFACE BY 
 
 in the literary and scientific world only as the 
 propagator of M. Bentham's ideas, and few are 
 able to appreciate the full merit of his labours. 
 M. Dumont had no literary ambition; satisfied 
 with the esteem of the distinguished individuals 
 who knew him, he considered himself suffi- 
 ciently rewarded by the consciousness of having 
 contributed to the happiness of mankind by the 
 propagation of useful ideas; and he never 
 sought, I will not say to raise his fame at the 
 expense of that which his celebrated friend had 
 so justly earned, but even to claim the share of 
 renown to which he was really entitled. His 
 own thoughts and ideas merged in those of Mr. 
 Bentham, and he gave the whole to the public 
 under the name of that great publicisty without 
 ever troubling his head about the portion of 
 honour and esteem which he should derive from 
 them. But if such unequal participation suited 
 M. Dumont's modesty, it is no less incumbent 
 upon me to endeavour to place him in the rank 
 which is his due. God forbid, however, that 
 I should desire here to raise a controversy, by 
 claiming for M. Dumont all or the principal 
 part of the merit belonging to the works which 
 
THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXxiii 
 
 appeared under the name of Mr Bentham. It 
 would be against evidence, and would, moreover, 
 be a violation of the respect I owe to M. Du- 
 mont's memory ; for the latter did not cease, 
 to the end of his life, expressing his enthusiastic 
 admiration of the English publicist* My 
 
 * This is what he wrote a few days before his death : "What 
 I most admire is, the manner in which Mr Bentham has laid 
 down his principle, the development he has given to it, and the 
 rigorous logic of his inductions from it. The first book of the 
 Treatises on legislation, is an art of reasoning upon this princi- 
 ple, of distinguishing it from the false notions which usurp its 
 place, of analyzing evil, and of showing the strength of the 
 legislator in the four sanctions, natural, moral, political, and 
 religious. The whole is new, at least with regard to method 
 and arrangement, and they who have attacked the principle 
 generally, have taken good care not to make a special attack 
 upon the detailed exposition of the system. Egotism and mate- 
 rialism ! How absurd ! Nothing but vile declamation and 
 insipid mummery ! Look into the catalogue of pleasures, for 
 the rank which the author assigns to those of benevolence, and 
 see how he finds in them the germ of all social virtues ! His 
 admirable Treatise upon the indirect means of preventing crime^ 
 contains, among others, three chapters sufficient to pulverise all 
 those miserable objections. One is on the cultivation of benevo- 
 lence, another on the proper use of the motive of honour, and 
 the third on the importance of religion when maintained in a 
 proper direction ; that is to say, of that religion which conduces 
 to the benefit of society. I am convinced that Fenelon himself, 
 £ 
 
XXxiv PREFACE BY 
 
 design is solely to prove, that if M. Dumont 
 consented to work in the second rank, if he 
 preferred in some sort to abandon his own stock, 
 and cultivate the ideas of another, it was the 
 eJQTect of choice, not necessity ,• and nothing can 
 answer my purpose better, than the publication 
 of a book written solely by himself, which shows 
 in detail, and by precise facts, the high conside- 
 ration which he enjoyed from the celebrated 
 men with whom he lived, and proves the depth 
 
 would have put his name to every word of this doctrine. Con- 
 sider the nature and number of Mr Benthara's works ; see what 
 a wide range he has taken in legislation ; and is it not acknow- 
 ledged, that no man has more the character of originality, 
 independence, love of public good, disinterestedness, and noble 
 courage in braving the dangers and persecutions which have 
 more than once threatened his old age ? His moral life is us 
 beautiful as his intellectual. Mr Benthara passes in England, 
 whether with justice or not I am unable to determine, for the 
 chief, I mean the spiritual chief, of the radical party. His name, 
 therefore, is not in good repute with those in power, or those 
 who see greater dangers than advantages in a reform, especially 
 a radical reform. I do not pretend to give an opinion, either 
 for or against, but it must be understood, that he has never enjoy- 
 ed the favour either of government or of the high aristocracy ; 
 and this must guide, even in other countries, those who desire not 
 to commit themselves ; for Mr Bentham's ensign leads neither 
 to riches nor to power. 
 
THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXXV 
 
 and correctness of his judgment, the elegance 
 of his mind, his feelings of high honour, and 
 gives, besides, a specimen of his own powers of 
 composition. It will also be seen, in this work, 
 how often men of eminence had recourse to his 
 counsels, his information and his pen ; whence 
 it may be inferred, that if he afterwards con- 
 sented to become second to Mr Bentham, it was 
 not from the speculation of an inferior mind, 
 incapable of proceeding alone, and who would 
 consider such an association as a real honne- 
 fortune, but rather from that true modesty, 
 which made him, provided the good were done, 
 care little to whom it was attributed. 
 
 M. Dumont by no means looked upon these 
 Recollections as a finished work. He spoke of 
 them as a sketch which he intended to go over 
 again and complete. He intended them as notes 
 upon things and persons ; as materials for a his- 
 torical work of a higher order than simple 
 memoirs; — ^but he alone could have made it 
 complete, and I should consider it a breach of 
 duty on my part, had I endeavoured to supply 
 the deficiencies or omissions which may be 
 remarked in it, or attempted to finish it even 
 
XXXVl PREFACE BY 
 
 according to the plan he had himself laid down 
 when talking on the subject. 
 
 Whatever regret we may feel that the sudden 
 death of the author should have prevented the 
 completion of this work, it will nevertheless 
 remain as one of the most interesting sources 
 of information and research for the history of 
 the period to which it refers. 
 
 M. Dumont's intimacy with the principal 
 personages of that epoch, and particularly with 
 Mirabeau, afforded him the knowledge of many 
 facts unknown to most of those who have writ- 
 ten upon the same subject ; and besides obser- 
 vations on the general events of the revolution, 
 these Recollections contain a number of anec- 
 dotes never published, and statements concern- 
 ing persons and things, more or less important, 
 no doubt, but which are all of great interest. 
 
 What appears to me more particularly to add 
 to the merit of this work, and distinguish it 
 from every production of the same kind, is 
 that M. Dumont, a stranger to France, would 
 never consent, from a sentiment of propriety 
 which does him much credit— very rare at that 
 period — to take an active part in the events 
 
THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXXVll 
 
 which passed before his eyes, nor exercise any- 
 public functions. He has, therefore, nothing to 
 conceal, nor any motive for altering facts in 
 order to present his own conduct in a more 
 favourable light. His love of freedom and his 
 great talents made him the confidant of great 
 projects, and a contributor to important works, 
 but never in any other capacity than as the 
 friend or adviser of the real authors. The 
 instant this association of intellect and talents 
 attracted the public attention, and he perceived 
 that the hopes he had founded on the patriotism 
 of those with whom he was connected, faded 
 before a sad reality, he hastened to abandon 
 the place he occupied, and withdrew. 
 
 I have only another word to say ; it is res- 
 pecting the opinions formed by M. Dumont up- 
 on the proceedings of the constituent assembly. 
 Perhaps his judgments may be deemed severe; 
 but if the period, when he wrote his Recollec- 
 tions, be taken into consideration, that is to say 
 1799, when not many years had elapsed since 
 the disorders into which anarchy had plunged 
 France — and it be recollected that when he 
 went to Paris, he had already resided several 
 
XXXVlll PREFACE BY 
 
 years in England, it may seem less surprising 
 that he should sometimes express strong disap- 
 probation. Looking at the proceedings of the 
 national assembly, over which a thoughtless and 
 enthusiastic heat too often presided, he naturally 
 assumed as his point of comparison, the prudent 
 slowness and regular form of the English par- 
 liament. This contrast must have struck him 
 painfully, and he might have been the more 
 induced to blame what he saw, because the 
 labours of the constituent assembly did not pro^ 
 duce the results anticipated by every friend of 
 freedom. He would judge differently now, 
 when subsequent events have placed this great 
 epoch in its proper light. The action of time, 
 which effaces or softens prejudices, and the 
 succession of events which can alone enable us 
 to look from an eminence, permit us now to 
 form a correct judgment of the mission of the 
 national assembly. It was called upon, at the 
 very outset, to announce to Europe the destruc- 
 tion of the ancient social order, and prepare for 
 the establishment of a new one in France. 
 They who then so strongly blamed it for having 
 founded nothing, were not in a position fairly 
 
THE GENEYESE EDITOR, XXXIX 
 
 to appreciate its works. Their wishes, founded, 
 it is true, upon praise-worthy motives, made 
 them unjust ; they demanded of the assembly 
 more than it could perform ; and assigned 
 it another task than that which Providence had 
 fixed. A generous impatience to see a realiza- 
 tion of the great destinies of man, made them 
 anticipate the periods prescribed by the order 
 of progress, and they bitterly vituperated the 
 constituent assembly for not equalling the vast 
 hopes which they had conceived. This assem- 
 bly, however, which contained most of the 
 great and generous minds then distinguished 
 in France, accomplished with grandeur, bold- 
 ness, and impartiality, the noblest and most ex- 
 tensive task ever confided to any body of men. 
 
 At the present time, when we can better 
 appreciate the difficulties and dangers it had to 
 encounter, and the immensity of the services it 
 rendered to the cause of humanity, by destroying 
 the obstacles which stopped the progress of 
 civilization, we exact less, and are more grate- 
 ful; — in short, we are become just. 
 
 I might have softened expressions of severe 
 criticism, and struck out certain passages which 
 
xl GENEVESE EDITOR's PREFACE. 
 
 may displease some, but it would have been a 
 betrayal of confidence. This work was a de- 
 posit placed in my hands, and I restore it to the 
 public such as it was intrusted to me, unaltered 
 and untouched. 
 
 J. L. DUVAL, 
 
 Member of the Representative Couacil of Geneva. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 MIRABE AU 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I HAVE just read the ^^ Annals of the French Revo- 
 lution," by Bertrand de Molleville. This work has 
 recalled to my recollection a variety of facts whose 
 secret causes are known to me; it has also reminded 
 me of my connexion with many of the leading cha- 
 racters of that period. A lapse of ten years has 
 effaced a number of circumstances from my memory, 
 and were I to wait much longer, I should retain only 
 a very vague idea of the many remarkable events 
 which occurred under my own observation. My 
 friends have repeatedly urged me to commit to paper 
 the details with which I have been in the habit of 
 
42 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 entertaining them in private conversation. I have 
 hitherto refused, from an invincible repugnance to 
 speak of myself. Having been rather a spectator 
 than an actor in these events, I can conscientiously 
 declare, that in the little participation I had in them, 
 my intentions were always pure, however defective 
 may have been my judgment. But not having 
 attached consequence to any thing I ever said or did, 
 I have kept no journal, and have thus suffered many 
 interesting matters to escape me. I did not, at the 
 time, perceive their importance, and it is only by 
 looking back at them through a lapse of years, that I 
 am able to appreciate their value. In the work of 
 Bertrand de Molleville, I have read many details 
 which had already escaped my memory, and I feel 
 the necessity of putting my own fugitive recollections 
 into a permanent form. 
 
 I cannot better employ my leisure hours at Bath 
 than by devoting them to this task, which, if it prove 
 tedious, as I fear it will, I have only to suspend, and 
 throw into the fire what I have written. 
 
 My journey to Paris was occasioned by the revo- 
 lution at Geneva in 1789. I went thither with 
 Duroverai, ex-attorney-general of Geneva, in con- 
 sequence of M. Necker's return to office, and the 
 events then passing in France. We had two objects 
 in view : one to render Geneva wholly free, by an- 
 nulling the treaty which prevented her from making 
 
OP MIRABEAU. 43 
 
 laws without the approbation of the powers which 
 had become guarantees of that treaty ; the other, to 
 complete that which the Genevese revolution had 
 only commenced; for this revolution having been 
 effected with great precipitation^ the popular party 
 had obtained only a portion of the rights of which 
 they had been deprived in 1782. The councils had 
 yielded some of their usurped powers, but had man- 
 aged to retain several. The Genevese residents in 
 London were by no means satisfied with this arrange- 
 ment, and the clause which they reprobated the 
 most, was the one which provided that the exiles, 
 though recalled, should not resume their offices and 
 honours. Meetings had been held on this subject ; 
 and, as I had not been banished, but was only a vol- 
 untary exile, it was considered that I could plead the 
 cause of the exiles with much more propriety than 
 themselves. My notions of liberty had been strength- 
 ened by my residence in England, and by the liberal 
 spirit of the writings published, at that period, in 
 France. I was one of the most active at our Gene- 
 vese meetings ; and I undertook to write a pamphlet 
 containing all the observations we had made upon the 
 new Genevese code. My work was well received; 
 and it was proposed to address it to our fellow citi- 
 zens. Duroverai, who had just arrived from Ireland, 
 persuaded me that the work would prove more effect- 
 ive if published at Paris ; and that it was necessary 
 
44 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 to prevent a ratification of the treaty by the powers, 
 otherwise the imperfect state of things then existing, 
 might be rendered permanent and conclusive. 
 
 The affairs of Geneva are totally foreign to the 
 present work. But it was necessary that I should 
 make known my object in going to Paris^ and show 
 that, by a concatenation of events, all connected with 
 that object, I found myself mixed up with the French 
 revolution. Before I enter upon my subject, I must 
 premise that my principal recollections relate to 
 Mirabeau, and I am therefore bound to begin by 
 stating the origin of my connexion with him. 
 
 In 1788, I spent the months of August and Sep- 
 tember, at Paris, with my friend Mr Romilly, of 
 London. Romilly is descended from a French fam- 
 ily, who took refuge in England after the revocation 
 of the edict of Nantes ; an event of which he never 
 spoke without blessing the memory of Louis XIV, to 
 whom he thus owed the obligation of being an Eng- 
 lishman. He had embraced the profession of the 
 law, and practised at the Chancery bar, where suc- 
 cess is attended with much less eclat than in the Court 
 of King's Bench. 
 
 During Mirabeau's visit to London in 1784, he had 
 become very intimate with Romilly. He was then 
 engaged in his work on the order of Cincinnatus, and 
 had in his portfolio plans and sketches of several other 
 works, upon which he took good care to consult every 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 45 
 
 person capable of affording him information. He was 
 then poor, and obliged to live by his writings. He 
 wrote his Considerations on the Escaut^ from a letter 
 by M. Chauvet, which gave him the first idea of the 
 work. Having become acquainted with a geogra- 
 pher, whose name I forget, he also meditated writing 
 a universal geography. Had any one offered him 
 the elements of Chinese grammar, he would, no doubt, 
 have attempted a treatise on the Chinese language. 
 He studied a subject whilst he was writing upon it, 
 and he only required an assistant who furnished 
 matter. He could contrive to get notes and addi- 
 tions from twenty different hands t, and had he been 
 offered a good price, I am confident he would have 
 undertaken to write even an encyclopsedia. 
 
 His activity was prodigious. If he worked little 
 himself, he made others work very hard. He had 
 the art of finding out men of talent, and of success- 
 fully flattering those who could be of use to him. He 
 worked upon them with insinuations of friendship, 
 and ideas of public benefit.* His interesting and 
 animated conversation was like a hone which he used 
 to sharpen his tools. Nothing was lost to him. He 
 
 * When, at a later period, Mirabeau wanted my services, he 
 spoke to me in praise of my friends, and talked about Geneva. 
 This was a species of Manz des Vaches — it softened and subju- 
 gated me. Note by Dumont. 
 
46 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 collected with care, anecdotes, conversations, and 
 thoughts — appropriated, to his own benefit, the fruits 
 of the reading and study of his friends — knew how 
 to use the information thus acquired, so as to appear 
 always to have possessed it — and when he had begun 
 a work in earnest, it was seen to make a rapid and 
 daily progress. 
 
 In London he fell in with D . . . ., who was wri- 
 ting a history of the Revolutions of Geneva, the first 
 volume of which he had already published. D . . . . 
 wished to be an author without its being known, and 
 seemed to blame himself for writing this work. He 
 pressed Mirabeau to take his manuscripts and com- 
 pose a History of Geneva. In less than a week, 
 Mirabeau showed him an extract he had made from 
 the volume already published. It was done in a 
 masterly style ; was energetic, rapid and interest- 
 ing. I know not w^hat made D . . . . change his 
 mind, but, on a sudden, he withdrew his manuscripts 
 from Mirabeau. The consequence was a coolness, 
 and something worse, between them. These two 
 men could never have worked in conjunction. Mi- 
 rabeau, however, declared that he only wanted the 
 second place, and would willingly yield to D . . . . 
 the honour of the undertaking ; but the truth is, he 
 thought that his reputation would absorb that of his 
 companion, and that D . . . . would be considered, 
 at most, but as a mason who had brought the stones 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 47 
 
 and raortar for the edifice, of which Mirabeau was 
 the architect. 
 
 When we arrived at Paris in 1788, the character 
 of the Count de Mirabeau was in the lowest possible 
 state of degradation. He had been employed at Ber- 
 lin by M. de Calonne, was connected with all the 
 enemies of Neck er, against whom he had several times 
 exercised his pen, and was considered as a dangerous 
 enemy and a slippery friend. His lawsuits with his 
 family — his elopements — his imprisonments and his 
 morals, could not be overlooked, even in a city so lax 
 as Paris ; and his name was pronounced with detes- 
 tation at the houses of some of our most intimate 
 friends. Romilly, almost ashamed of his former 
 friendship for Mirabeau, determined not to renew 
 acquaintance with him. But Mirabeau was not a 
 man of etiquette ; and having learnt our address from 
 Target, at whose house we had dined, he determined 
 to call upon us. The noise of a carriage at the door 
 drove Romilly to his room, desiring me, should it be 
 a visitor on a call of ceremony, to say that he was out. 
 Mirabeau was announced, and I did not send word 
 to Romilly, because I thought he wished to avoid 
 seeing the count ; and as his room was only separated 
 by a thin partition from the one we were in, I con- 
 cluded that he would be able to distinguish the voice 
 of our visitor, and make his appearance if he pleased. 
 Mirabeau began the conversation by talking of our 
 
48 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 mutual friends in London. He then spoke of Gene- 
 va, for he well knew that to a Genevese there was no 
 greater pleasure than talking of his country. He said 
 many flattering things of a city which, by producing 
 so many distinguished, men, had contributed to the 
 general mass, so large a share of genius and learning; 
 and he concluded by affirming, that he should never 
 be happy until he could liberate that city from the 
 fetters imposed upon it by the revolution of 1782. 
 Two hours seemed but a moment ; and Mirabeau 
 was, in my estimation, the most interesting object in 
 Paris. The visit ended by my promising to dine with 
 him the same day, and he was to return and fetch 
 me in his carriage. 
 
 "With whom have you been talking so long?" 
 said Romilly, on leaving his room, to which this long 
 visit had confined him. — " Did you not recognise his 
 voice ?'^ inquired I. — "No.'^ — "Yet you well know 
 the individual, and I even think you must have 
 heard a panegyric on yourself, which would have 
 made a superb funeral oration.'^ — " What ! was it 
 Mirabeau ?" — ^^ It was ; and may I be a fool all my 
 life, if I allow the prejudices of our friends to prevent 
 me from enjoying his company. I belong neither to 
 Calonne's party, nor to Necker's ; but to his whose 
 conversatiori animates and delights me. As a com- 
 mencement, I am going to dine with him to-day.'^ 
 Mirabeau soon returned, took us both with him, and 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 49 
 
 in a very short time overcame our prejudi- 
 ces. We visited him often ; and taking advantage 
 of the fine weather, made many excursions into the 
 country. We dined with him in the Bois de Bou- 
 logne, at St Cloud, and at Vincennes ; at which lat- 
 ter place he showed us the dungeon in which he had 
 been confined three years. 
 
 I never knew a man who, when he chose, could 
 make himself so agreeable as Mirabeau. He was a 
 delightful companion in every sense of the word ; 
 obliging, attentive, full of spirits, and possessed of 
 great powers of mind and imagination . It was imposs- 
 ible to maintain reserve with him ; you were forced 
 into familiarity, obliged to forego etiquette and the 
 ordinary forms of society, and call him simply by his 
 name. Although fond of his title of count, and, at 
 the bottom of his heart, attaching great importance 
 to noble birth, he had too much good sense not to 
 know when he could avail himself of it with propri- 
 ety ; he therefore made a merit of its voluntary ab- 
 dication. The forms of good breeding, which have 
 been so properly compared to the cotton and other 
 soft materials placed between china vases, to prevent 
 their being broken by collision, keeps men at a cer- 
 tain distance from each other, and prevents, as it were, 
 the contact of hearts. Mirabeau rejected them. 
 His first care was to remove such obstacles, and inti- 
 mate intercourse with him was attended with a sort 
 
 G 
 
50 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 of agreeable asperity, a pleasant crudity of express- 
 ion, more apparent than real ; for under the dis- 
 guise of roughness, sometimes even of rudeness, was 
 to be found all the reality of politeness and flattery. 
 After the stiff and ceremonious conversations of for- 
 mal good breedings there was a fascinating novelty in 
 his, never rendered insipid by forms in common use. 
 His residence at Berlin had supplied him with a 
 stock of curious anecdotes ; for his scandalous letters 
 were not then published. He was, at this period, 
 publishing his book on the Prussian monarchy. This 
 production consisted of a work by Major Mauvillon, 
 and extracts from different memoirs procured at great 
 expense. No one could, for a moment, suppose that, 
 during a residence of only eight months at Berlin, 
 Mirabeau could himself have written eight volumes, 
 in which he had introduced every possible informa- 
 tion relative to the government of Prussia. But he 
 had the merit of employing the talents of an officer 
 scarcely known to the government he served, and the 
 Prussian ministers must have been much surprised at 
 finding that a man who had made so short a sojourn 
 in their country, could singly undertake so arduous a 
 task, and succeed in supplying them with more ma- 
 terials than could be found in the united offices of 
 their several departments. This work is an illustra- 
 tion, by facts, of Adam Smith's principles of political 
 economy j and it clearly proves that Prussia has 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 51 
 
 always been a sufferer, whenever she has departed 
 from those principles. 
 
 This was the period of the famous quarrel between 
 M. de Calonne and M. Necker, about the deficit. 
 The former had good reasons for endeavouring, by a 
 direct charge, to throw upon other shoulders the 
 weight of his own responsibility. He had accused 
 M. Necker of having imposed upon the nation by a 
 statement, that on leaving office, instead of a defi- 
 ciency, there was an overplus of ten millions of livres. 
 M. de Calonne's article, teeming with arithmetical 
 calculations and specious arguments, had produced 
 a certain effect upon the public mind. M. Necker, 
 who had just resumed office, had announced his reply 
 as forthcoming. Mirabeau was preparing to refute 
 the latter, even before it had appeared and he could 
 possibly know its contents. M. Necker's enemies 
 were in the habit of meeting at the house of Panchaud, 
 the banker, a man of talent, and well versed in finance, 
 but who, after a disgraceful bankruptcy, was lost in 
 character more than he was ruined in fortune. On 
 the publication of M. Necker's work, the committee 
 met daily, and Mirabeau always attended to collect 
 observations, and inveigh against the minister. He 
 anticipated the most triumphant success ; and talked 
 confidently of exposing the charlatan, ripping him 
 open, and laying him at Colonne's feet, convicted of 
 falsehood and incapacity. But this fierce ardour was 
 
52 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 soon exhausted by its own violence ; and he said no 
 more on the subject himself, nor was he pleased when 
 any other person mentioned it in his presence. I 
 often asked him why this refutation was delayed ; 
 by what novelty of kindly feelings he spared the 
 great charlatan, who was enjoying an unmerited repu- 
 tation; and why Panchaud's committee deferred 
 this great act of justice? Mirabeau, to get rid of 
 these attacks, which, after his foolish boasting, he 
 could not well parry, at length informed me that M. 
 Necker's aid was necessary for the formation of the 
 states-general, that his popularity was useful, and 
 that the question of the deficit was absorbed by the 
 more important one of the double representation of 
 the tiers- etat. 
 
 From this fact I infer that M. Necker's answer 
 had proved victorious, and that his enemies could 
 not succeed in injuring his character. 
 
 We went with Mercier, the author of the ' ' Tableau 
 de Paris," and Mallet-Dupan, to see these horrid 
 dens, the Salpetriere and Bicetre. I never saw any 
 thing more hideous ; and these two establishments at 
 the gates of the metropolis strongly display the care- 
 less frivolity of the French. The hospital .contained 
 the germ of every loathsome disease ; the prison was 
 the school of every crime. Romilly, much moved, 
 wrote, in a letter to a friend, an energetic description 
 of these two receptacles of wretchedness. I men- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 53 
 
 tioned this description to Mirabeau, who was anxious 
 to see it. After reading it, to translate and publish 
 it was the work of a single day ; and he completed a 
 small volume by adding a translation of an anonymous 
 paper on the administration of the criminal law of 
 England. The work was announced as translated 
 from the English, by the Count de Mirabeau; but 
 the public, accustomed to disguises of this nature, 
 imputed to him the authorship of both. The suc- 
 cess of this book was great, and its profits covered 
 his expenses for a month. Mirabeau enjoyed a high 
 reputation as a writer. His work on the Bank of St 
 Charles, his "Denunciation of Stock-jobbing," his 
 "Considerations on the Order of Cincinnatus,'' and 
 his "Lettres de Cachet," were his titles to fame. 
 But if all who had contributed to these works had 
 each claimed his share, nothing would have remained 
 as Mirabeau's own, but a certain art of arrangement, 
 some bold expressions and biting epigrams, and nu- 
 merous bursts of manly eloquence, certainly not the 
 growth of the French academy. He obtained from 
 Claviere and Panchaud the materials for his writings 
 on finance. Claviere supplied him with the subject 
 matter of his Letter to the King of Prussia. De 
 Bourges was the author of his address to the Batavi- 
 ans, and I have often been present at the disputes 
 between them, to which this circumstance gave rise. 
 Mirabeau did not deny the debt, but de Bourges, 
 
54 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 seeing the success of the work, was enraged at having 
 been sacrificed to the fame of another. Mirabeau 
 stood so high with the public, that the partners of 
 his labours could not succeed in destroying a reputa- 
 tion which they had themselves established for him. 
 I have often compared Mirabeau to a general making 
 conquests through his lieutenants, whom he afterwards 
 subjects to the very authority they have founded for 
 him. Mirabeau had certainly a right to consider 
 himself the parent of all these productions, because 
 he presided at their birth, and without his indefati- 
 gable activity they would never have seen the light. 
 
 Claviere, as much annoyed as any man could be at 
 having served as a pedestal to Mirabeau's fame, had 
 formed a connection with Brissot de Warville, with 
 whom he wrote in conjunction. Mirabeau called 
 Brissot a 'literary jockey, and spoke of him with con- 
 tempt; but entertained a high opinion of Claviere, 
 with whom he was desirous of a renewal of intimacy. 
 There had been no direct rupture between them, but 
 much bitter feeling. Claviere called Mirabeau a 
 jackdaw, that ought to be stripped of his borrowed 
 plumes; but this jackdaw, even when deprived of 
 his borrowed plumes, was still armed with a power- 
 ful spur, and could soar above all the rest of the lite- 
 rary tribe. 
 
 Mirabeau introduced us to Dapont de Nemours 
 and Champfort. Dupont, author of the " Citizen's 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 55 
 
 Ephemerides/' and the zealous friend of Turgot, had 
 the reputation of an honest man and a clever econo- 
 mist; but he rendered himself a little ridiculous by 
 the aifectation of importance with which he complain- 
 ed of having to correspond with four kings. We 
 found him one morning occupied in writing a work 
 on leather^ in which he showed that the government 
 had never been consistent in its regulations on this 
 matter. "This work," said he^, "will be more en- 
 tertaining than a novel ;" and, as a specimen, he read 
 to us seven or eight heavy and tedious chapters ; but 
 he rewarded us for this ennui by giving us many 
 anecdotes of the assembly of notables, of which he 
 had been secretary. He mentioned, among other 
 things, a very successful bon-mot. Tithes were the 
 subject of discussien. " Tithes," said the Archbishop 
 of Aix, in a whining tone, " that voluntary/ offering 
 of the devout faithful . . . " — "Tithes," interrupted 
 the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, in his quiet and mod- 
 est way, which rendered the trait more piquant, 
 " that voluntary offering of the devout faithful, con- 
 cerning which there are now forty thousand lawsuits 
 in the kingdom." 
 
 Champfort and Mirabeau kept up a reciprocal ex- 
 change of absurd compliments. The former aifected 
 independence of character even to singularity. Al- 
 though intimate with several distinguished persons at 
 court, particularly with M. de Vaudreuil, he always 
 
56 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 made a point of railing, in their presence, against 
 every thing connected with high office and elevated 
 rank. He aimed at passing for a misanthropist ; but 
 his dislike of human-kind arose from pride alone, 
 and was manifested only in epigrams. Whilst others 
 endeavoured, with a battering-ram, to overthrow the 
 Colossus, he attempted to cripple him with shafts of 
 satire. Knowing him afterwards more intimately, I 
 saw a great deal of him ; and, in his passion for revo- 
 lution, I could discern nothing but a species of 
 wounded vanity, susceptible of no enjoyment save 
 the one resulting from the overthrow of that superi- 
 ority of talent which had given him umbrage. He 
 hated the institution of marriage, because he was 
 himself illegitimate; and he declaimed against per- 
 sons of rank and influence, lest he should be suspect- 
 ed of enjoying court patronage. By his own account, 
 he was a severe moralist, and yet he sought his 
 pleasures in the very coarsest and most degrading 
 kind of voluptuousness. Mirabeau said that a statue 
 ought to be raised to him by the physicians, because 
 he had discovered, in the stews of the Palais Royal, 
 the germ of a disease thought to be extinct — a kind 
 of leprosy or elephantiasis. 
 
 We had other acquaintances in Paris besides Mi- 
 rabeau, among whom we dared not boast above our 
 breath of our intimacy with the latter. These were 
 the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, M. de Malesherbes, 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 
 
 57 
 
 M. de Lafayette, Mr Jefferson, the American 
 minister, Mallet du Pan, the Abbe Morellet, and 
 many other personages less known. French conver- 
 sation at this period was much less trivial than it 
 used to be. The approaching convocation of the 
 states-general, the importance of passing political 
 events, interesting questions on freedom, and the 
 near approach of a crisis which would affect the fu- 
 ture destinies of the nation, were all novel topics at 
 Paris, where they excited a diversity of opinions, and 
 raised a fermentation which, though yet but feebly 
 developed, imparted a strong stimulus to conversation. 
 Every mind plunged into uncertain futurity and 
 speculated in accordance with his fears or his wishes. 
 In the higher classes, not a single individual remained 
 indifferent to what was passing, and even the mass 
 of the people commenced an agitation of which they 
 scarcely knew the object. 
 
 The two months we spent at Paris were so well 
 filled, the company we saw so varied, the whole of 
 our time so profitably employed, the objects we be- 
 held so interesting, and the scene so constantly 
 changing, that in this short period I lived more than 
 during whole years of my subsequent life. I was 
 chiefly indebted to my fellow traveller for the recep- 
 tion I met with. I was under his auspices, and as 
 his society was much courted, I did not encounter 
 neglect. 1 was proud of his merit, and when I per- 
 
 H 
 
58 RECOLLECTIONS "* 
 
 ceived that he was understood and appreciated, my 
 heart warmed with the exultation of friendship at the 
 consideration he enjoyed without perceiving it. I 
 cannot at present conceive how, in so short a time, we 
 managed to get through all we performed. Romilly, 
 always so quiet and measured in his motions, is yet 
 a man of unceasing activity. He does not lose even 
 minutes. He devotes himself in earnest to whatever 
 he is doing; and, like the hand of a clock, never 
 stops, although his motions are so equal as to be 
 scarcely perceptible. 
 
 I can fancy I see him now before me, overwhelmed 
 with business in the most laborious of professions; 
 nevertheless he finds leisure to read every important 
 book that appears, recurs often to his classics, sees 
 much company, and yet never appears pressed for 
 time. Economy of time is a virtue I never possessed, 
 and my days often pass away without leaving any 
 trace. Romilly communicated his activity to me, 
 and taught me an art which unfortunately I shall 
 never be able to make available.* 
 
 On our departure, Mirabeau accompanied us as 
 far as Chantilly, where we spent a delightful day, 
 making projects to meet again; and we agreed to 
 keep up a regular correspondence, which, however, 
 
 * Sir Samuel Romilly died in London in 1818. — Note by 
 the Genevese Editor. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 59 
 
 we did not even begin. Mirabeau was full of his plan 
 concerning the stales-general. He foresaw the diffi- 
 culties he should have to encounter in his election ; 
 but he already aimed at becoming one of the repre- 
 sentatives of the tiers-etaty from a notion that he 
 should thereby raise himself to greater eminence, 
 and that his rank would add fresh eclat to his popular 
 principles. I will here give another instance of his 
 activity — of his avarice, I may say, in collecting the 
 smallest literary materials. He gave me a methodical 
 list of the subjects we had discussed together in con- 
 versation, and upon which we had differed. It was 
 headed thus: " List of subjects which Dumont en- 
 gages, upon the faith of friendship, to treat consci- 
 entiously, and send to Mirabeau very shortly after 
 his return to London. Divers anecdotes on his 
 residence in Russia; biographical sketches of several 
 celebrated. Genevese ; opinions on natiunal educa- 
 tion,'' &c. There were eighteen items in all, and 
 his recollection of them was a proof of his attention 
 and faithful memory. He was desirous of forming a 
 collection of such materials, that he might use them 
 at his leisure. Mirabeau could adopt every style of 
 conduct and conversation, and though not himself a 
 moral man, he had a very decided taste for the so- 
 ciety of those whose rigidity of principle and severity 
 of morals contrasted with the laxity of his own. His 
 mode of inspiring confidence was to confess candidly 
 
60 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 the faults and follies of his youth, express regret at 
 his former errors, and declare that he would endea- 
 vour to expiate them by a sedulous and usefid appli- 
 cation of his talents in future to the cause of humanity 
 and liberty, without allowing any personal advantage 
 to turn him from his purpose. He had preserved, 
 even in the midst of his excesses, a certain dignity 
 and elevation of mind, combined with energy of 
 character, which distinguished him from those 
 effeminate and worn out rakes, those walking shadows, 
 with which Paris swarmed ; and one was tempted to 
 admit, as an excuse for his faults, the particular cir- 
 cumstances of his education, and to think that his 
 virtues belonged to himself, and that his vices were 
 forced upon him. I never knew a man more jealous 
 of the esteem of those whom he himself esteemed, or 
 one who could be acted upon more easily, if excited 
 by a sentiment of high honour ; but there was nothing 
 uniform and permanent in his character. His mind 
 proceeded by leaps and starts, and obeyed too many 
 impetuous masters. When burning with pride or 
 jealousy, his passions were terrible ; he was no longer 
 master of himself, and committed the most dangerous 
 imprudences. 
 
 Having thus explained the origin of my intimacy 
 with Mirabeau, I return to the journey I undertook 
 with M. Duroverai, in 1789, for the purpose of 
 trying if, with M. Necker's return to office, we could 
 not better the condition of the Genevese exiles. 
 
or MIRABRAU, 61 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A SOMEWHAT ludicrous circumstance occurred dur- 
 ing our journey. I have but an imperfect recol- 
 lection of it. All was in a bustle for the election of 
 the deputies; and the primary assemblies of the 
 bailliages, composed of shopkeepers and peasants, 
 knew not how to proceed with an election. We 
 were breakfasting at Montreuil-sur-Merj if I recol- 
 lect right, and while chatting with our host, the lat- 
 ter acquainted us with the trouble and embarrassment 
 attendant upon their meetings. Two or three days 
 had been lost in disputes and confusion, and they 
 had never even heard of such things as a president, 
 a secretary, or voting tickets. By way of a joke, 
 we determined to become the legislators of Mon- 
 treuil, and having called for pen, ink and paper, 
 began to draw up short regulations indicating the 
 proper mode of conducting these elections. Never 
 did work proceed more gaily than ours. In an hour 
 it was complete, though interrupted every moment 
 
•62 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 by peals of laughter. We then read and explained 
 it to our host, who, delighted at the idea of acquiring 
 consequence, entreated that we would give it to him, 
 assuring us that he would make good use of it. We 
 would willingly have delayed our journey for a day 
 to assist at this assembly and behold the incipient 
 dawn of democracy in France, but we could not 
 spare the time. Soon after our arrival at Paris, we 
 were not a little surprised at reading in the public 
 prints, that the assembly at Montreuil had finished 
 its election the first of any, and great praises were 
 bestowed upon the order which had been established 
 there. 
 
 This circumstance is not so unimportant as it might 
 at first appear. It displays either the carelessness 
 or the incapacity of a government which could or- 
 der so unusual a thing as a popular election, without 
 drawing up a regular form of proceeding, so as to 
 prevent disputes and confusion. 
 
 On our arrival at Paris, we waited on M. Necker, 
 and in an interview with that minister, perceived 
 that the question of the Genevese guarantee would 
 not be so easily settled as we had anticipated. The 
 king would neither consent to annul the edict of 1782, 
 nor risk a refusal of his assent to an arrangement 
 voluntarily entered into by both parties. As the 
 negociation threatened to be long, I spent a few 
 weeks at Claviere's country-house at Surene, where 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 63 
 
 I employed myself in re- writing my "Address to 
 the citizens of Geneva." I was aided in this task by 
 Claviere, Duroverai, and Reybaz, the latter being 
 my Aristarchus for the style ; for this was my appren- 
 ticeship in the art of composition, at least upon po- 
 litical topics. The work was finished, and sent to 
 Geneva two or three months after. I say nothing of 
 the sensation it produced, for if I derive any plea- 
 sure from continuing these memoirs, I shall have a 
 long chapter to write on the subsequent revolutions 
 of Geneva, and the individual part I took in them. 
 
 Claviere's house at Surene was the rendezvous of 
 many of the most distinguished personages of the 
 French revolution. Mirabeau and Brissot were two 
 of the most remarkable. I was aware of every thing^ 
 that was passing at Paris ; I often went there for a 
 day or two, in order not to neglect the acquaintances 
 I had formed during my former residence in that 
 city. I visited the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, M. 
 de Lafayette, and M. de Malesherbes. I had since 
 become very intimate with the Bishop of Chartres, 
 at whose house I often met the Abbe Sieyes. I vis- 
 ited also M. Delessert, Mallet-Dupan, Dr de La 
 Roche, M. Bidderman and M. Reybaz. But du- 
 ring the months of March and April, I was almost 
 always at Surene, occupied with my work, and caring 
 little about the approaching meeting of the states-- 
 general. 
 
64 llECOLLECTIONS 
 
 I remember attending, at Brissot's and Claviere's, 
 several meetings which they called committees, in 
 which it was proposed to draw up declarations of 
 right, and to lay down principles for conducting the 
 proceedings of the states-general. I was only a spec- 
 tator, and I never quitted one of these meetings 
 without a feeling of mortal disgust at the chattering 
 of these talkers. But the scene about to be unfold- 
 ed was so important, that I was always to be found 
 wherever there was any thing to be seen. I heard 
 no interesting speeches, it is true ; but the feeling on 
 the subject of liberty was unanimous. Cordiality, 
 warmth and energy pervaded every heart, and in the 
 midst of a nation endeavouring to shake off the tram- 
 mels of feudal oppression, and which had abandoned 
 its characteristic frivolity for a nobler pursuit, I felt 
 inspired with the most enthusiastic ardour, and yield- 
 ed to the most flattering anticipations. The French, 
 against whom I had imbibed a prejudice of contempt, 
 arising from my republican education, and which had 
 been strengthened in England, now seemed to me 
 quite a different people. I began to look upon them 
 as free men, and participated in all the opinions of the 
 most zealous partisans of the tiers-etat. I did not give 
 much consideration to the questions which divided 
 the French nation, but suffered myself to be borne 
 away by my habitual opinions in favour of liberty. 
 I never contemplated more than an imitation of the 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 65 
 
 English form of government^, which I considered the 
 most perfect model of political institutions. But if I 
 had not adequately studied the subject, neither had 
 I the presumption to deliver an opinion upon it. I 
 never spoke at any of these meetings, when they ex- 
 ceeded the ordinary number of a friendly party. No 
 one could be less desirous than I of making a display 
 before a numerous auditory. I considered such a 
 thing improper for a stranger, and my natural timid- 
 ity strengthened my resolve not to make the attempt. 
 Duroverai, although more accustomed to public as- 
 semblies, and gifted, moreover, with a power of elo- 
 quence which would have raised him to the highest 
 rank in these committees, maintained a similar 
 reserve, and had not even the modest ambition to un- 
 dertake a part which he might have played with the 
 most distinguished success. I will now state how 
 we were at length dragged into the stream.* 
 
 * In one of these meetings at Brissot's, the subject under dis- 
 cussion was the several points to be inserted in the regulation for 
 Paris. Amid a great number of propositions, we were greatly sur- 
 prised at hearing Palissot move for a special article on the right of 
 representation. We Genevese fancied that he meant the right 
 of making representations or rather remonstrances to govern- 
 ment. But he soon undeceived us by stating that this essential 
 right, one of the most precious attributes of liberty, was now in 
 the very act of beini( violated by government, in the most open 
 manner, for M. Chenier's tragedy of Charles IX. was not allowed 
 I 
 
66 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 The only impression which these speeches and 
 proceedings have left upon my mind is one of a 
 chaos of confused notions. There was no fixed point 
 of public opinion, except against the court, and what 
 was then termed the aristocracy. Necker was the 
 divinity of the day; and Sieyes, then little known to 
 the people, had, in his writings, supplied with points 
 of argument such as were fond of discussing public 
 questions. Rabaud de Saint-Etienne and Target had 
 acquired a reputation at least equal to that of Sieyes. 
 They who anticipated a civil war, looked upon La- 
 fayette as ambitious of becoming the Washington 
 of France. These were the leading characters of 
 the day. 
 
 The Duke de la Rochefoucauld, distinguished by 
 his simplicity, the excellence of his moral character, 
 his independence of the court and his liberal princi- 
 ples, assembled at his house the principal members 
 of the nobility who had pronounced themselves in 
 favour of the people, the double representation of the 
 tiers, the vote by numbers, the abolition of privi- 
 leges, &c. Condorcet, Dupont, Lafayette, and the 
 Duke de Liancourt, were the most distinguished at 
 
 to be performed. Being thus made acquainted with the nature 
 of the right of representation, we could not help smiling at our 
 blunder, when some one approaching me, whispered in my ear, 
 " You perceive that, among the French, every thing ends with 
 the theatre. " — Note by Dumont. 
 
OF MIUABEAU. 67 
 
 these meetings. The prevailing idea was that of 
 giving a constitution to France. The princes and 
 nobles, who would fain preserve and fortify the old 
 constitution, formed, properly speaking, the aristo- 
 cratic party, against whom a general outcry was raised. 
 But although the clamour was great, many individuals 
 were almost indifferent, because they were unable 
 to appreciate the consequences of what was passing. 
 The body of the nation, even at Paris, saw nothing 
 more in the assembling of the states-general, than a 
 means of diminishing the taxes ; and the creditors 
 of the state, so often deprived of their dividends by 
 a violation of public faith, considered the states-gene- 
 ral as nothing more than a rampart against a govern- 
 ment bankruptcy. The deficit had filled them with 
 consternation ; they deemed themselves on the brink 
 of ruin, and were anxious to establish the public 
 revenue upon a sure foundation. Besides this, each 
 order of the states- general had its parties ; the order 
 of the nobility was divided into an aristocratic and a 
 democratic faction ; so was that of the clergy, and so 
 was the tiers-etat. It is impossible to describe the 
 confusion of ideas, the licentiousness of imagination, 
 the burlesque notions of popular rights, the hopes, 
 apprehensions and passions of these parties. The 
 Count de Lauraguais said that it was like a world, the 
 day after its creation, when nations, rendered hostile 
 by interest, were trying to settle their differences 
 
68 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 and regulate their respective rights as if nothing had 
 previously existed, and in making arrangements for 
 the future, there was no past to be taken into consid- 
 eration. 
 
 I was present at Paris at the meetings of the sec- 
 tions for the appointment of electors. Although 
 there were orders to admit into these assemblies none 
 but the inhabitants of the section in which they were 
 respectively held, they were not enforced j for in 
 France there was no feeling of jealousy in this res- 
 pect. After the first few had entered, every de- 
 cently dressed individual presenting himself at the 
 door was allowed to pass. In many sections there 
 was some diflSculty in obtaining the attendance of a 
 sufficient number of persons. The citizens of Paris, 
 surprised at the novelty of the thing, and rather 
 alarmed at centinels being placed at the doors of the 
 assemblies, remained at home out of danger, and de- 
 termined to continue to do so until the first few days 
 were passed. I was at the section of the Filles- 
 Saint- Thomas f a central district inhabited by the 
 most opulent classes. For many days not more than 
 two hundred individuals were present. The diffi- 
 culty of giving the first impetus to the machine was 
 extreme. The noise and confusion were beyond 
 any thing I can describe. Each individual was stand- 
 ing, and all spoke at the same time, nor could the 
 president succeed in obtaining silence for two minutes 
 together. Many other difficulties arose on the man- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 69 
 
 ner of taking the votes and counting them/ I had a 
 store of curious anecdotes relative to this infancy of 
 popular institutions, but by degrees they have been 
 effaced from my memory. They were instances of 
 the eagerness of conceited men to put themselves 
 forward in the hope of being ejected. 
 
 Here were likewise to be seen the first attempts 
 at party intrigue. A list of candidates was rejected, 
 and the elections were to be made amongst all per- 
 sons present. The consequence of this was, that the 
 votes were at first so much divided, that no absolute 
 majority was obtained for any one candidate pro- 
 posed, and it became necessary to repeat the poll 
 several times. 
 
 The assembly of electors were as slow and tumul- 
 tuous in their proceedings as the district assemblies. 
 The states-general met at Versailles several days 
 before the deputies were elected for Paris. It is a 
 remarkable fact that the Abbe Sieyes was the last 
 deputy elected, and the only ecclesiastic appointed 
 to represent the tiers-etat. Thus the man who had 
 given the impulsion to the states- general and possessed 
 the greatest influence in their formation, owed his 
 being a member of that assembly to a mere chance. 
 
 The elections at Paris were the last in the king- 
 dom. The delay arose, I apprehend, from a discus- 
 sion as to the mode of making them. Some pre- 
 tended that it should be done by the three orders in 
 
70 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 conjunction — others^ by the orders separately. Dur- 
 ing this discussion, Duval d'Espresmenil, who had 
 always been considered as a partisan of the tiers-etat, 
 declared himself in favour of privileges ; and on this 
 occasion the count de Lauraguais said to him jeer- 
 ingly, " Eh ! M. Duval, as I do not prevent you 
 from being noble, pray suffer me to be a bourgeois 
 of Paris!" 
 
 I was not at Versailles at the opening of the states, 
 but went thither a few days afterwards. The three 
 orders were in open quarrel about the verification of 
 their powers. The Uers-etat wanted this verifica- 
 tion to be made in common ; the two other orders 
 insisted upon its being done separately. Though 
 the question appeared to be of no importance, much 
 in reality depended upon it. The tiers-etat wanted 
 the two other orders to unite with them and form but 
 one assembly ; in which case, the commons, from 
 their numerical strength, would always maintain a 
 preponderance. They adhered to this opinion with 
 the greatest tenacity ; resisted every attempt to bring 
 them into action, and contrived to cast upon the no- 
 bility and clergy an imputation of obstinacy, which 
 rendered the latter orders still more unpopular with 
 the multitude. 
 
 It was a great blunder of the government to leave 
 this question unsettled. If the king had ordered the 
 union of all three, he would have had the tiers-etat 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 71 
 
 for him ; and had he ordered the separation, he would 
 have been supported by the nobility and clergy. 
 The states-general would certainly not have begun 
 their proceedings by an act of disobedience towards 
 the king, then considered as the provisional legisla- 
 tor. But in coming to no decision on the subject, 
 he opened the lists to the corabattants^ and the royal 
 authority was destined to become the prey of the 
 victors. 
 
 I had opportunities of seeing how much this delay 
 generated and excited party feelings. The tiers- 
 etat continued their proceedings, and at length went 
 so far as to constitute themselves a national assembly, 
 after having sent a peremptory summons to the nobil- 
 ity and clergy, to which those orders declined paying 
 any attention. All the seeds of disorder were sown 
 during this interval, and this is a period to which the 
 historian of the revolution ought to pay particular 
 attention. 
 
 When I entered the hall in which the States sate, 
 there was neither object of discussion nor order. 
 The deputies were not at first known to each other ; 
 but every day made them better acquainted. Du- 
 ring their proceedings, they took their places any 
 where, chose the oldest among them to preside at their 
 sittings, and spent their whole time in discussing 
 trifling incidents, listening to news ; and, the provin- 
 
72 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 cial deputies, in making themselves acquainted with 
 Versailles. 
 
 The hall was constantly full of visitors who went 
 every where, and even took possession of the benches 
 of the deputies, without any jealousy on the part of 
 the latter, or claims of privilege. It is true that, not 
 being yet constituted, they considered themselves 
 rather as members of a club than of a body politic. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. - 73 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I SOON found the person I was looking for. It was 
 Mirabeau. In the course of a long conversation with 
 him, I discovered that he was already annoyed with 
 every body, and in open hostility with the majority 
 of the deputation from Provence. I was informed, 
 soon afterwards, that several humiliating circumstan- 
 ces had occurred to vex him. 
 
 When the list of deputies of the several hailliages 
 was read, many well known names were received 
 with applause. Mounier, Chapelier, Rabaud de 
 Sainte-Etienne, and several others had been distin- 
 guished by these flattering marks of approbation; 
 but, when Mirabeau's name was read, there was a 
 murmur of a different kind, and hooting instead of 
 applause. Insult and contempt showed how low he 
 stood in the estimation of his colleagues, and it was 
 even openly proposed to get his election cancelled, 
 when the verification of powers took place. He had 
 employed raanceuvres at Aix, and at Marseilles, 
 
 K 
 
74 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 which were to be brought forward against the legality 
 of his return ; and he himself felt so convinced that 
 his election at Marseilles could never be maintainedj 
 that he gave the preference to Aix, although he 
 would have been much more flattered at representing 
 one of the largest and most important cities in the 
 kingdom. He had tried to speak on two or three 
 occasions, but a general murmur always reduced him 
 to silence. It was in this situation of spite and ill- 
 humour;, that he published the two first numbers of 
 an anonymous journal entitled, the ^^ States-General," 
 a sort of lampoon upon the assembly. He compared 
 the deputies to tumultuous school-boys, giving way 
 to indecent and servile mirth. He severely attacked. 
 M. Necker, the nation's idol. In short, this journal 
 was a collection of epigrams. The government 
 ordered its suppression ; but Mirabeau, more excited 
 than discouraged by this prohibition, announced in 
 his own name, his ^^ Letters to his constituents." No 
 one durst dispute the right of a representative of the 
 people to give an account of the public sittings of 
 the assembly. 
 
 With my friendship for Mirabeau, and the high 
 opinion I entertained of his talents, it made my heart 
 bleed to see him in such disgrace, especially as it 
 inflamed his self-love, and made him, perhaps, do as 
 much harm as he might have done good. I listened 
 patiently to all his complaints and railings against the 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 75 
 
 assembly. In speaking of its members, he was prodi- 
 gal in his expressions of contempt, and he already 
 anticipated that all would be lost by their silly vanity, 
 and jealousy of every individual who evinced supe- 
 rior abilities. He thought, or rather affected to 
 think, that he was repulsed by a sort of ostracism 
 against talents j but he would show them, he said, 
 that he could be even with them. In the midst of 
 these bursts of passion, and these rodomontades of 
 vengeance, I easily perceived that he was much 
 affected, and even distinguished the tears of vexation 
 in his eyes. I seized the earliest opportunity of 
 applying a balm to the wounds of his self-love. I 
 told him plainly and candidly, that his debut had 
 offended every one ; that nothing was more dangerous 
 than for a deputy who, like him, might aspire to the 
 first rank in the assembly, to write a journal ; that 
 to censure the body to which he belonged, was not 
 the way to become a favourite with its members; 
 that if, like me, he had lived in a republic, and seen 
 the concealed springs of party intrigue, he would not 
 so readily yield to discouragement; that he should 
 quietly suffer all the half-talents and half-reputations 
 to pass before him ; that they would destroy them- 
 selves, and, in the end, each individual would be 
 placed according to his specific gravity ; that he was- 
 on the greatest theatre in the world ; that he could 
 pot attain to eminence except through the assembly ; 
 
76 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 that the slight mortification he had undergone, would 
 be more than compensated by a single successful day ; 
 and that if he were desirous of obtaining a permanent 
 ascendency, he must follow a new system. This long 
 conversation, which took place in the garden of Tri- 
 anon, had an excellent effect. Mirabeau, feelingly 
 alive to the voice of friendship, softened by degrees, 
 and at length admitted that he was wrong. Soon 
 after, he showed me a letter to his constituents, which 
 he was about to publish. We read it together ; it 
 was less bitter than former ones, but was still too 
 much so. We spent a couple of hours in remodelling 
 it, and entirely changing its tone. He even consent- 
 ed, though with repugnance, to praise certain depu- 
 ties, and represent the assembly in a respectable light. 
 We then agreed that he should not attempt to speak 
 until some extraordinary occasion should offer. 
 
 Mirabeau had but a slight acquaintance with Du- 
 roverai, but was well aware of his talents. He knew 
 that Duroverai had acquired great experience in 
 conducting the political affairs of Geneva, had a pro- 
 found knowledge of jurisprudence, had drawn up the 
 Genevese code of law^s, and possessed, in the highest 
 degree, the art of discussion and the routine of popu- 
 lar assemblies. All this rendered an intimacy with 
 him very desirable ; and Mirabeau, who afterwards 
 considered him as his Mentor, never took a step of 
 any consequence without consulting him. At Ver- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 77 
 
 sallies, we lodged at the hotel Charost. Claviere, 
 who frequently came from Paris to see the assembly, 
 had become reconciled to Mirabeau, and came often 
 to our hotel, where we assembled now and then a 
 few friends of our own way of thinking, and, in par- 
 ticular, our countryman M. Reybaz, between whom 
 and Mirabeau we endeavoured to promote an inti- 
 macy. But it was some time before they became 
 familiar. Reybaz, by his coldness of manner, re- 
 pulsed the most flattering advances ; but he at length 
 yielded, and became one of Mirabeau's most active 
 co-operators. This did not occur till several months 
 after, when Mirabeau had already acquired great 
 ascendency in the assembly. In this little committee, 
 I have seen very important measures put in train, 
 and I may speak of them with the more freedom, be- 
 cause I looked on rather than participated in them. 
 I had never meddled with political matters, and felt 
 no inclination to do so. I had, moreover, too high 
 an opinion of the talents of Duroverai and Claviere, 
 not to adopt, generally, their way of thinking. I 
 was of great use in preventing collision between them, 
 and in calming them when their prejudices, which I 
 did not share, were opposed to each other. Durov- 
 erai, with many amiable qualities, had unpleasant as- 
 perities of temper, and often treated Mirabeau like a 
 truant school-boy. Claviere, who looked forward to 
 be minister of finance, was in haste to act, and did 
 
78 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 not willingly lend himself to Duroverai's plan of 
 uniting Mirabeau and Necker, and governing, by- 
 such coalition^ the whole assembly. 
 
 Duroverai was acquainted with M. Mallouet, who 
 was intimate with M. Necker, and had rendered 
 some services to the representatives of Geneva. 
 We often dined at his house ; and on one occasion 
 convinced him of the necessity of bringing about a 
 conference between Mirabeau and M. Necker. 
 Many objections were raised: "Can Mirabeau be 
 trusted ?" — " Would he concert measures with the 
 minister?" — "Would not M. Necker commit him- 
 self?" Duroverai answered every objection, and 
 M. de Montmorin was consulted. The conference 
 took place, and Mirabeau, who had never before seen 
 M. Necker, spoke of him, on his return, as a good 
 kind of man, unjustly accused of possessing talent and 
 depth of thought. This interview was not wholly 
 unfruitful ; and the promise of an embassy to Con- 
 stantinople, on the dissolution of the assembly, was 
 held out to Mirabeau. The engagement was to be 
 kept secret ; and I do not think that Mirabeau, who 
 was the least discreet of men, communicated it to 
 more than some seven or eight persons. However, 
 the king's intentions, and those of M. Necker, were 
 considered so consonant with public feeling, that a man 
 who pledged himself to second them, did not contract 
 an engagement contrary to the good of the nation. But 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 79 
 
 the turn that affairs subsequently took, and Mirabeau's 
 great ascendency, soon raised him above an embassy, 
 and placed him in a situation to dictate rather than 
 have conditions imposed upon him. At this period, 
 however, when the permanency of the states was not 
 contemplated, much less the destruction of the mon- 
 archy, the idea of an embassy pleased him much. 
 He wanted to have me appointed secretary, and was 
 already meditating the plan of an Ottoman encyclo- 
 psedia. 
 
 I ought, before I related this circumstance, to have 
 mentioned Mirabeau's first triumph at the assembly 
 of the tiers- etat. I was the more affected by it, be- 
 cause it concerned Duroverai 5 and never was the 
 most dreadful state of anxiety succeeded by more 
 intense joy, than on this occasion. Duroverai was 
 seated in the hall of the assembly, with some deputies 
 of his acquaintance. He had occasion to pass to Mira- 
 beau a note written with a pencil. M . . . ., who 
 was already one of the most formidable declaimers of 
 the assembly, saw this, and asked the member next 
 him, who that stranger was, that was passing notes 
 and interfering with their proceedings. The answer 
 he received was a stimulus to his zeal. He rose, and 
 in a voice of thunder, stated, that a foreigner, banished 
 from his native country, and residing in England, 
 from whose government he received a pension, was 
 seated among themj, assisting at their debates, and 
 
80 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 transmitting notes and observations to the deputies 
 of their assembly. The agitation on every side of 
 the hall, which succeeded this denunciation, would 
 have appeared to me less sinister, had it been the 
 forerunner of an earthquake. Confused cries were 
 heard of, " Who is he ?''— " Where is he ?"— " Let 
 him be pointed out!" Fifty members spoke at once ; 
 but Mirabeau's powerful voice soon obtained silence. 
 He declared that he would himself point out the 
 foreigner, and denounce him to the assembly. * ' This 
 exile," said he, " in the pay of England, is M. 
 Duroverai, of Geneva ; and know, that this respec- 
 table man, whom you have so wantonly insulted, is a 
 martyr to liberty ; that, as attorney-general of the re- 
 public of Geneva, he incurred the indignation of our 
 visirs, by his zealous defence of his fellow citizens ; 
 that a lettre de cachet^ issued by M. de Vergennes, 
 deprived him of the office he had but too honourably 
 filled ; and when his native city was brought under 
 the yoke of the aristocracy, he obtained the honours 
 of exile. Know further, that the crime of this en- 
 lightened and virtuous citizen, consisted in having 
 prepared a code of laws, in which he had abolished 
 odious privileges."* 
 
 * This is the speech as Mirabeau uttered it : — " I think with 
 the gentleman who spoke last, that no individual, not a deputy, 
 whether he be a foreigner or a native, ought to be seated among 
 us. But the sacred ties of friendship, the still more holy claims 
 
OF MIUABEAU. 81 
 
 The impression produced by this speech, of which 
 the above is only an abstract, was electrical. It 
 was succeeded by a universal burst of applause. 
 Nothing that resembled this force and dignity of elo- 
 
 of humanity, and the respect 1 have for this assembly of patriots, 
 and friends of peace, render it an imperious duty on my part, to 
 separate from the simple question of order, the odious accusation 
 which he has had the assurance to couple with it. He has dared 
 to assert, that among the numerous strangers who are assisting at 
 our proceedings, there is an exile ;— one who has taken refuge 
 in England, and is in the pay of the king of Great Britain. Now 
 this stranger, this exile, this refugee, is M. Duroverai, of Geneva, 
 one of the most respectable citizens in the world. Never had 
 freedom a more enlightened, a more laborious, or a more disin- 
 terested advocate ! From his youth he was appointed by his 
 countrymen to assist in the framing of a code of laws, intended to 
 place the constitution of his country on a permanent basis. 
 Nothing was more beautiful, nothing more philosophically politi- 
 cal, than the law in favour of the natives. He was one of its 
 framers. This law, so little known, yet so deserving of general 
 attention, establishes the following principle : " That all repub- 
 lics have perished, nay more, deserved to perish, for having op- 
 pressed the people, and not having known that they who govern, 
 can preserve their own liberty only by respecting that of their 
 brethren." Elected attorney-general of Geneva, by the unani- 
 mous voice of his fellow citizens, M. Duroverai incurred, from 
 that moment, the hatred of the aristocrats. They swore his 
 ruin ; and certain that this intrepid magistrate would never 
 cease to employ the authority of his office in defence of the 
 independence of his country, they succeeded in obtaining his 
 L 
 
83 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 cution had ever been heard before in the tumultuous 
 assembly of the tiers-etat. Mirabeau was deeply 
 moved by this first success. Duroverai was imme- 
 diately surrounded by deputies, who, by their kind 
 attentions, endeavoured to atone for the insult they 
 had offered him. Thus, an accusation which had, 
 at first, filled me with consternation, terminated so 
 
 dismissal, through the interference of a despotic minister. But 
 even in the midst of party hatred, and the intrigues of base fac- 
 tions, M. Duroverai's character was respected even by calumny 
 itself, whose foul breath never sullied a single action of his life. 
 Included in the proscription which the aristocrats obtained from 
 the destroyers of Genevese independence, he retired to England, 
 and will, doubtless, never abdicate the honours of exile, until 
 freedom shall once more resume her sway at Geneva. A large 
 number of the most respectable citizens of Great Britain took 
 up the cause of the proscribed republican, procured him the 
 most flattering reception in their country, and induced their go- 
 vernment to grant him a pension. This was a species of civic 
 crown, awarded by that modern people, whom the tutelar ge- 
 nius of the human race seems especially to have appointed to 
 guard and officiate at the altars of freedom . . . . ! Behold then 
 the stranger, the exile, the refugee, who has been denounced 
 to you ! Formerly the persecuted man sought refuge at the 
 altar, where he found an inviolable asylum, and escaped from 
 the rage of the wicked. The hall in which we are now assem- 
 bled, is the temple which, in the name of Frenchmen, you are 
 raising to liberty ; and will you suffer it to be polluted by an 
 outrage committed upon a martyr of liberty ?" — -Note by Du- 
 mont. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 83 
 
 much the more to my satisfaction, that the knowledge 
 of this scene at Geneva could not fail to promote the 
 recall of her exiled citizens. Of course this act of 
 courage, this transport of justice and friendship was 
 not lost upon us, and our connection was strengthen- 
 ed by the ties of gratitude. If Mirabeau had always 
 served the public cause with the same ardour as he 
 did that of his friend — if he had shown a zeal equally 
 noble, in putting a stop to the calumnies uttered 
 from the tribune, he would have become the saviour 
 of his country. 
 
 I have but an imperfect recollection of the early 
 proceedings of the assembly, during the dispute of 
 the orders ; but I cannot forget the occasion on which 
 a man, who afterwards acquired a fatal celebrity, 
 first brought himself into notice. The clergy were 
 endeavouring, by a subterfuge, to obtain a meeting of 
 the orders ; and for this purpose deputed the Arch- 
 bishop of Aix to the tiers-etat. This prelate expa- 
 tiated very pathetically upon the distresses of the 
 people, and the poverty of the country parishes. 
 He produced a piece of black bread, which a dog 
 would have rejected, but which the poor were 
 obliged to eat or starve. He besought the tiers-etat 
 to depute some members to confer with those deputed 
 by the nobility and clergy, upon the means of better- 
 ing the condition of the indigent classes. The tiers- 
 etat perceived the snare, but dared not openly reject 
 
84 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 the proposal, as it would render them unpopular 
 with the lower classes ; when a deputy rose, and af- 
 ter professing sentiments in favour of the poor still 
 stronger than those of the prelate, adroitly threw 
 doubts upon the sincerity of the intentions avowed by 
 the clergy. 
 
 " Go," said he to the archbishop, " and tell your 
 colleagues^ that if they are so impatient to assist the 
 suffering poor, they had better come hither and join 
 the friends of the people. Tell them no longer to 
 embarrass our proceedings with afTected delays ; — 
 tell them no longer to endeavour, by unworthy 
 means, to make us swerve from the resolutions we 
 have taken ; but as ministers of religion — ^as worthy 
 imitators of their masters — let them forego that 
 luxury which surrounds them, and that splendour 
 which puts indigence to the blush ; — let them 
 resume the modesty of their origin — discharge the 
 proud lackeys by whom they are attended — sell their 
 superb equipages, and convert all their superfluous 
 wealth into food for the indigent." 
 
 This speech, which coincided so well with the pass- 
 ions of the time, did not elicit loud applause, which 
 would have been a bravado and out of place, but was 
 succeeded by a murmur much more flattering: 
 '' Who is he ?" was the general question ; but he was 
 unknown ; and it was not until some time had elapsed, 
 that a name was circulated which, three years later, 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 85 
 
 made France tremble. The speaker was Robespierre. 
 Reybaz, who was seated next to me, observed, 
 <* This young man has not yet practised ; he is too 
 wordy, and does not know when to stop, but he has 
 a store of eloquence and bitterness which will not 
 leave him in the crowd." ' 
 
 I had become acquainted with several deputies, 
 and I often dined with the Bishop of Chartres, to 
 whom I had been introduced by Brissot and Claviere. 
 I used to meet, at the house of this prelate, his grand 
 vicar, the Abbe Sieyes, but did not form any inti- 
 macy with him. He was a very absent man, did not 
 encourage familiarity, and was by no means of an 
 open disposition. He gave his opinion, but without 
 discussion ; and if any one raised an objection, he 
 made no reply. His works had earned him a high 
 reputation. He was considered the oracle of the 
 tiers-etaty and the most formidable enemy of privi- 
 leges. He was easily moved to anger, and seemed 
 to entertain the most profound contempt for the pres- 
 ent order of society. I thought this friend of liberty 
 must of course like the English, and I sounded him 
 on this subject ; but with surprise I discovered that 
 he deemed the English constitution a mere piece of 
 quackery, got up to impose upon the multitude. 
 He seemed to listen to me as if I were uttering ab- 
 surdities, while I detailed the divers modifications 
 of this system, and the disguised though real checks 
 
86 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 upon the three estates composing the legislature. 
 All influence possessed by the crown was, in his eyes, 
 venality, and opposition a mere trick. The only thing 
 which he admired in England was trial by jury ; 
 but he badly understood its principles, which is the 
 case with every Frenchman, and had formed very 
 erroneous notions on the subject. In a word, he 
 considered the English as tyros in framing constitu- 
 tions, and that he could give a much better one than 
 theirs to France.* 
 
 I inquired of the Bishop of Chartres and M. Las- 
 seney concerning Sieyes's habits, studies, and the 
 manner in which he had acquired his knowledge ; 
 for it was easy to perceive that he was self-educated. 
 
 * I must not forget one of the most characteristic traits with 
 which my memory supplies me, relative to the Abbe Sieyes. 
 One day, after having breakfasted at M. de Talleyrand's, we 
 walked together for a considerable time in the garden of the 
 Tuilleries. The Abbe Sieyes was more disposed to talk and 
 more communicative than usual. In a moment of familiarity 
 and effusion of heart, after having spoken of his studies, his 
 works, and his manuscripts, he uttered these words, which 
 struck me forcibly : " Politics are a science in which I think I am 
 perfect." Had he ever measured the outline, or formed a con- 
 ception of the extent and difficulty of a complete legislation, he 
 would not have made such an assertion ; and presumption, in 
 this case, as in any other, is the surest test of ignorance. — Note 
 by Dvmont. 
 
OF MIHABEAU. 87 
 
 Nothing remained of his acquirements at his theo- 
 logical seminary or at the Sorbonne. It appears that 
 at Chartres, where he always spent the greater part of 
 the summer, he lived like a recluse, because he did 
 not like provincial society, and would put himself out 
 of the way for nobody. . He read little, but medi- 
 tated a great deal. The works he preferred were 
 Rousseau's " Contrat Social,''^ the writings of Con- 
 dillac, and Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations." 
 He had written much, but could not bear the work 
 of revision. He fancied he did not possess what is 
 called the knack of writing ; he envied Mirabeau's 
 power and facility in this respect, and would willingly 
 have confided his manuscripts to any one capable of 
 giving them that last polish which he felt to be be- 
 yond his power. He was little moved by the charms 
 of women, which perhaps originated in a weak and 
 sickly constitution, but was passionately fond of music, 
 with the theory of which he was conversant, besides 
 being an excellent performer. This is all I was able 
 to collect concerning his character and habits. At 
 the period I am speaking of, he might be considered 
 the real leader of the tiers-etat, although no one made 
 less display. But his work on the " Means of Exe- 
 cution," &c. had pointed out the line of conduct to be 
 pursued by the assembly, and it was he who exploded 
 
88 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 the term tiers-etat to substitute in its stead that of 
 the commons.^ 
 
 The Bishop of Chartres was one of the prelates 
 attached to the popular party ; that is to say, he was 
 favourable to the union of the orders, the vote by in- 
 dividual numbers, and a new constitution. He was 
 neither a politician nor a man of profound learning ; 
 but had much good faith and candour, and suspected 
 nothing wrong. He could not imagine, in the tiers- 
 etat^ any other views than the reform of abuses and 
 the public good. A stranger to intrigue and sincere 
 in his intentions, he followed the dictates of his con- 
 science, and was acted upon by the purest sense of 
 duty. In religion, as in politics, he was a believer, 
 but tolerant, and was much rejoiced at seeing the 
 removal of the protestant disabilities. He expected 
 that the clergy would be called upon to make great 
 sacrifices, but did not acticipate that they would be- 
 come victims of the revolution. I saw him when the 
 property of the church was declared national pro- 
 perty. I found him, one day, with tears in his eyes, 
 
 * Active and ardent in his party, he caused more to be done 
 by others than he did himself. He laid down the plan of the 
 battle, but remained in his tent during the combat. Girardin 
 said of him, " He is to a party what a mole is to a grass-plot, he 
 labours and raises it. " — Note by DumonU 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 89 
 
 discharging his servants, reducing his hospitable 
 establishment, and preparing to sell his jewels for the 
 liquidation of his debts. He assuaged his grief by 
 entering with me into the most confidential details. 
 His regret was not selfish ; but he accused himself of 
 having submitted to be made a dupe of by the tiers- 
 etatf whose interests he had embraced, and who, as 
 soon as they became strong, had violated the engage- 
 ments they had contracted during their weakness. 
 It was indeed painful to an honest and well-meaning 
 man, to have contributed to the success of so unjust a 
 party; but never could blame attach less to any indi- 
 vidual than to the Bishop of Chartres. I cannot but 
 mention two anecdotes of this worthy prelate, which 
 I never think of without admiration. During the 
 first insurrections, he was deputed by the assembly to 
 proceed to a village near Versailles, and endeavour 
 to save the life of an unfortunate baker, named Tho- 
 massin, against whom the people v;^ere furious. The 
 venerable bishop had exhausted all the means of rea- 
 son and persuasion, but to no purpose. He saw the 
 ferocious savages seize the unhappy wretch to tear 
 him to pieces. He had not an instant to lose. With- 
 out hesitation he threw himself upon his knees in a 
 deep mire, and called upon the assassins to kill him 
 also, rather than force him to witness so atrocious a 
 crime. The frenzied multitude of men and women, 
 struck with respect at this action, drew back an 
 
 M 
 
90 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 instant, and gave the bishop time to help into his car- 
 riage the wonnded and bleeding Thomassin. 
 
 The other anecdote cannot be compared to this ; 
 but it serves to show his excessive delicacy and high 
 probity. At a period when pretended national re- 
 forms had reduced so many individuals to distress, he 
 had purchased, in the street, a gold box at a very 
 low price. On his return home he perceived that the 
 box was worth much more than he had paid for it. 
 Uneasy at his purchase, and fearful of having taken 
 an undue advantage of the wants of the seller, he did 
 not rest until he had found him out and given him 
 several louis-d'or in addition to what he had already 
 paid, although he would have preferred to return the 
 box, which, at that price, was no longer in unison 
 with a situation he already perceived to be inevitable. 
 " But," said he, ^^ if I return thebox, his wants may 
 force him to sell it at a lower price than I first paid. 
 This is but a small sacrifice, and it is perhaps the 
 last I shall have it in my power to make.'' To con- 
 clude what I have to say about this excellent man,— 
 when, after his emigration, he was residing in a village 
 in Germany, the Marquis of Lansdowne, who had 
 known him at Spa, sent him, anonymously, a letter 
 of credit for a hundred pounds. But he would not 
 at first accept it, declaring that if he were unable to 
 discharge such a debt, he would at least know his 
 benefactor, for he did not choose to be exempted 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 91 
 
 from gratitude. I had the satisfection of being the 
 interpreter of Lord Lansdowne's sentiments on this 
 occasion, and of testifying to him, under his misfor- 
 tunes, that respect and esteem still entertained to- 
 wards him by every person who had known him dur- 
 ing his prosperity. 
 
92 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 More than a month had elapsed in this state of 
 suspense. Sieyes thought it was high time to send 
 a positive summons to the nobility and clergy^ and, 
 on their refusal, to proceed to the verification of 
 powers, and put the commons into a state of activity. 
 But this apparent loss of time had been turned to 
 profit by the deputies of the tiers-etat. 
 
 They had obtained public favour. The other two 
 orders were divided among themselves, and the votes 
 among the clergy nearly equalized. The people, 
 who saw only the surface of things, considered the 
 nobility and clergy as too obstinate to enter into any 
 arrangement, they having already refused to assemble 
 in the same hall as the deputies of the tiers-etat. 
 The inhabitants of Versailles were in the habit of in- 
 sulting, in the street and at the doors of the assembly, 
 those whom they termed aristocrats ^ a term which, 
 like all other party expressions, subsequently acquired 
 a most direful influence. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 93 
 
 What surprises me is, that there was no counter 
 designation to distinguish the opposite party, then 
 called the nation. The effect of the latter term, 
 placed in the balance with the other, may readily be 
 conceived. The people of Paris, so easy to govern 
 and so indolent in their state of repose, became by 
 degrees filled, like a balloon, with inflammable gas. 
 
 Though the commons began already to feel their 
 strength, there were many different opinions on the 
 manner of bringing it into use, and on the name which 
 should be taken by the assembly as a collective body. 
 The audacity afterwards shown, was then only in em- 
 bryo. Every man of forethought judged that the 
 most important consequences would result from the 
 decision of such a question. To call themselves a 
 national assembly, would be to depreciate to the 
 lowest degree the king, the nobles, and the clergy ; 
 — it would, if the government displayed any vigour, 
 prove the beginning of civil war. To vote them- 
 selves simply an assembly of the commons would, on 
 the other hand, be only expressing an undoubted fact, 
 and would not force the nobles and clergy to join 
 them ; it merely maintained the subdivisions of the 
 assembly then existing. Several titles were proposed 
 as modifications of these two ; for each member en- 
 deavoured to conceal his views and pretensions ; and 
 even Sieyes himself, who rejected every thing tend- 
 
94 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 ing to maintain the orders, did not dare at once to 
 propose the decisive term of national assembly. He 
 first suggested an ambiguous denomination, imply- 
 ing but not expressing that idea ; nor was it till after 
 a debate of two or three days, that he ventured to pass 
 the Rubicon, and get the motion made by a deputy 
 called Legrand. There was an immediate and gene- 
 ral call for putting it to the vote, and this voting, 
 which lasted till very late at night, had something 
 sombre and awful. The galleries had, with great 
 difiiculty, been forced to absolute silence. There 
 were eighty votes against the denomination of na- 
 tional assembly, and nearly five hundred in its fa- 
 vour. 
 
 I have reserved, to mention separately, the part 
 taken by Mirabeau in this debate. The question 
 had already been discussed in our little society. The 
 danger of a scission with the court and the nobles ; 
 the evil of opening the states -general by a rupture 
 between the orders ; the necessity of recurring to 
 violent measures to support this first step and over- 
 come resistance ; all these considerations were duly 
 weighed ; but what had still more influence over us, 
 was tTiat we bore in mind the English constitution, 
 which we took for our model, and the division 
 of the legislature into two branches appeared to 
 us far preferable to a single assembly over whom 
 
OF MIHABEAU. 95 
 
 there could be no check. Thougli we ultimately 
 adopted this opinion, it was no easy matter to get 
 Mirabeaii to support it as his own. It was against 
 the popular torrent ; and it required courage to com- 
 mence a determined and systematic opposition to 
 Sieyes, the Bretons and the Palais Royal, and brave 
 calumnies, clamours, and suspicions which such an 
 apparent deviation from democratic principles might 
 produce. But Mirabeau possessed, in a high degree, 
 the courage produced by excitement, and was en- 
 dowed with.great presence of mind. He had no ob- 
 jection to an opposition of eclat; was not pleased 
 with Sieyes, who did not flatter him ; and had suffi- 
 cient confidence in himself to think, that he could 
 redeem his popularity, should he be deprived of it 
 by the opinion he was about to advocate. In pre- 
 senting his motion, he paid many flattering compli- 
 ments to the dominant party, abused the privileged 
 orders, and concluded by proposing that the commons 
 should be designated by the title of assembly of the 
 French people. 
 
 This motion, not very well understood at first, was 
 not strongly opposed ; but when Mallouet, who passed 
 for a ministerial, was seen to support it, and was bring- 
 ing the moderates to his way of thinking, the popular 
 party, in alarm, commenced a violent attack on Mira- 
 beau. The word people, which had at first appeared 
 synonymous with the word . nation, was now placed 
 
yo RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 in another light, as having been invented to form 
 opposition with the nobility and clergy who were 
 not the people f and pretended to be above them. 
 Invectives were not spared : the author of the motion 
 w^as termed an aristocrat in disguise, who had insidi- 
 ously endeavoured, by this title, to villify the true 
 representatives of the French nation. The tempest, 
 increasing by degrees, seemed to burst w^ith tenfold 
 fury. I was then in one of the galleries talking to 
 Lord Elgin, a young Scottish nobleman who much 
 admired Mirabeau's motion. Indignant at the ab- 
 surdities^ uttered about the word people^ I was unable 
 to resist the pleasure of writing what I should ray- 
 self have said, had I been a member of the assembly. 
 After discussing the question, I wrote with a pencil 
 a sort of apostrophe intended as a peroration. It 
 was addressed to those pretended friends of liberty 
 who fancied themselves degraded at being called 
 deputies of the people. This sketch, very rapidly 
 written, was not wanting in force and elevation. 
 Lord Elgin begged I would permit him to read it, 
 and as I had no ultimate view in writing it, I showed 
 him the paper, with which he appeared much pleased. 
 The dinner hour suspended the sitting, I dined 
 at Mirabeau's. Duroverai reproached him with the 
 weakness of his speech, and proved to him that he 
 had neglected the strongest and most convincing argu- 
 ments. I showed him my sketch, and the peroration 
 
OF MIRABEAU. . 97 
 
 appeared to him so conclusive, that he instantly de- 
 termined, he said, "to throw that burning tile at 
 their heads.'* "This is impossible," said I, " for I 
 showed it to Lord Elgin, who was next to me in the 
 gallery." " And what difference does that make?" 
 replied Mirabeau ; ^^ had you shown it to the whole 
 world, I should certainly quote it as the passage best 
 adapted to the subject." 
 
 Duroverai, who had an extraordinary desire that 
 this motion should succeed, began to write a refuta- 
 tion of all the arguments used against it. Mirabeau 
 copied as fast as he could, and the result was a tole- 
 rably complete oration, for the delivery of which, it 
 was only necessary to be allowed to speak. He found 
 much dijQiculty in obtaining a hearing; but the gal- 
 leries were so fond of listening to him, that the 
 assembly durst not persist in a refusal. The exordium 
 which I had written, excited a tolerable degree of 
 attention — the argumentative part passed off with 
 alternate murmurs and applause — but the peroration, 
 which he delivered in a voice of thunder, and which 
 was heard with a species of terror, produced an ex- 
 traordinary effect. It was succeeded, not by cries, 
 but by convulsions of rage. The agitation was gene- 
 ral, and a storm of invectives burst upon the speaker 
 from all parts of the hall. But he stood, calm and 
 unmoved, whilst I, the poor author of this unhappy 
 attempt, remained petrified in a corner, lamenting 
 
 N 
 
98 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 an error of judgment so fatal to my friend and 
 
 cause.* 
 
 * The following is the peroration. " I persevere in my mo- 
 tion and in its only expression that has called forth animadver- 
 sion. — I mean the denomination of French people. I adopt 
 it, I defend it, and I proclaim it for the very reason urged in 
 objection to it.— Yes ! it is because the term people is not suffi- 
 ciently respected in France, that it is cast into the shade and 
 covered with the rust of prejudice ;— because it presents an idea 
 alarming to our pride and revolting to our vanity — and is pro- 
 nounced with contempt in the chamber of the aristocrats. It 
 is for these very reasons, gentlemen, that I could wish (and we 
 ought to impose the task upon ourselves), not only to elevate 
 but to ennoble the name, and thus render it respectable to min- 
 isters, and dear to every heart. If this title were not, in fact, 
 already ours, it ought to be selected from amongst every other, 
 and its adoption considered the most valuable opportunity of 
 serving that people from whom we derive our authority — that 
 people whose representatives we are— whose rights we defend 
 — and yet, whose name, as forming our own denomination and 
 title, would seem to raise the blush of shame on our cheeks. — 
 Oh ! how should I exult if, by the choice of such a title, firmness 
 and courage were restored to a trodden-down people ! My 
 mind is elevated by the contemplation in futurity, of the happy 
 results which may proceed from the use of this name ! The 
 people will look up to us, and we to the people ; and our title 
 will remind us of our duties and of our strength. Under the 
 shelter of a name which neither startles nor alarms us, we can 
 sow and cultivate the seeds of liberty ; — we can avert those fatal 
 blasts that would nip it in the bud ; and if we so protect its 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 99 
 
 When the tumult had somewhat subsided, Mira- 
 beau, in a grave and solemn tone, thus addressed the 
 president: ''Sir, I deposit upon your table the 
 
 growth, our descendants will sit under the vivifying shade of its 
 wide-spreading branches. — Representatives cf tlie people ! 
 vouchsafe to answer me ! Will you go and tell your constituents 
 that you have rejected this name o^ people? — that if you are not 
 ashamed of them, you have, at all events, endeavoured to elude 
 using their name, which does not appear to you a sufficiently 
 flattering title ? — that you want a more fastuous denomination 
 than they could confer upon you ? Gentlemen ! do you not per- 
 ceive that the title of representatives of the people is absolutely 
 necessary, inasn;iuch as it will insure to you the attachment of 
 the people, that imposing mass, without which you would be 
 nothing but single individuals — nothing but slender reeds which 
 might easily be broken one by one ? Do you not see that you 
 require the word people, because it shows the people that you 
 have united your fate to theirs ; and it will teach them to centre 
 in you all their thoughts and all their hopes ! — The Batavian he- 
 roes who founded the liberties of their country, were more able 
 tacticians than we are. They adopted the denomination ofgneux 
 or beggarly fellows ; — they chose this title, because their tyrants 
 had endeavoured to cast it upon them as a terra of opprobrium ; 
 and this designation, by attaching to their party that numerous 
 and powerful class so degraded by the despotism of the aristoc- 
 racy, was, at the same time, their glory, their strength, and the 
 pledge of their success. The friends of freedom select the name 
 which is most useful to them, and not that by which they are the 
 most flattered. They are called remonsirators in America, 
 shepherds \n Switzerland, and gueux in the Low Countries. 
 
100 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 speech which has elicited such strong marks of dis- 
 approbation, because it has not been properly under- 
 stood. I consent to be judged, on the merits of its 
 contents, by all the friends of liberty." So saying he 
 left the hall amid threats and furious imprecations. 
 I called on Mirabeau an hour after. I was over- 
 come by feelings of dread and disappointment, but I 
 found him triumphant, and reading his speech to 
 some inhabitants of Marseilles who were expressing 
 the most enthusiastic admiration of it. I must con- 
 fess that he paid back to the assembly the slights he 
 had received from them. He compared them to 
 wild asses, who had obtained from nature no other 
 faculty than that of kicking and biting. " They did 
 not frighten me, my dear friend," said he in a pro- 
 phetic tone, " and in a week you shall see me more 
 powerful than ever. They must come to me, when 
 they find themselves about to be overwhelmed by the 
 tempest they have themselves raised. Regret not, 
 therefore, the events of this evening. The thinkers 
 will see something very profound in my motion. As 
 for the fools, I despise them too much to hate them, 
 and will save them in spite of themselves." With 
 
 They consider the terms of reproach applied to them by their 
 enemies, as their proudest boast ; for they deprive such terms 
 of all power of humiliation, the moment they have succeeded in 
 coupling them with honourable deeds ! — Note by the Genevese 
 Editor. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 101 
 
 all this excess of pride and temporary courage, he 
 had not^sufficient firmness to attend at the call of the 
 house. He did not, therefore, vote upon the ques- 
 tion ; and thus it was that his name did not appear 
 on the list of the eighty deputies held up, to the 
 people, as traitors sold to the aristocracy. Even his 
 popularity did not suffer at the Palais Royal, whilst 
 Mallouet, Mounier and several others who had 
 maintained the same opinion less openly, were de- 
 livered over to popular censure. 
 
 On the following day, when Sieyes appeared in 
 the hall, all the members, from a spontaneous feeling 
 of respect, rose to receive him, and applause thun- 
 dered from every side. ''How contemptible!" 
 said Mirabeau. ^^Do they. imagine that all is over? 
 I should not be surprised if civil war were the fruit 
 of their wise decree.'' 
 
 The nobles were confounded at the audacity of 
 the tiers-etat. They who had access to the king, 
 told him that all would be lost, if he did not oppose 
 this usurpation on the part of the commons. The 
 debates in the chamber of the nobility, were scenes 
 of infuriated madness. The decree of the tiers-etat 
 was termed an outrage, treachery, high treason. 
 The frenzy was at its height ; and the king ought 
 to have called all his faithful subjects to defend him, 
 put himself at the head of his troops, ordered the 
 seditious to be arrested, and dissolved the assembly. 
 
102 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 The cause of the events which followed, was to 
 be traced to the excitement of party spirit, and to 
 the violent language which resulted from it. It is 
 necessary to have witnessed this ferment to compre- 
 hend what followed. Many historical facts, stripped 
 of the circumstances by which they were prepared, 
 seem inexplicable. The atmosphere at Versailles 
 was dark and scorching ; and the explosion which 
 was expected to follow, must needs be terrible. 
 
 At this juncture, Duroverai conceived a plan 
 which he mentioned to M. Mallouet, but feared to 
 confide to the indiscretion of Mirabeau, in whom 
 neither party had any confidence. This plan was, 
 that the king should sit as the provisional legislator 
 of France, and annul the decree of the commons 
 which constituted them a national assembly ; but 
 that, at the same time, he should order the nobles 
 and clergy to join the tiers-etat for the joint verifi- 
 cation of their powers, and proceed in concert for 
 the future. The object of this sitting was, therefore, 
 to do by royal authority that which the commons 
 had effected by setting aside the king's power: and 
 to decree the union of the nobles and clergy with 
 the tiers-etat, in order that this union should emanate 
 from the king, and not from the commons. This 
 was intended only to save appearances, for the re- 
 sult would be the same. But by this measure, the 
 nobility would not appear at the assembly under 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 103 
 
 circumstances humiliating to their pride, and it 
 would, moreover, put an end to those violent disputes 
 between the three orders, which could only end 
 either in the triumph of the commons, by means of 
 a popular movement, or in the dissolution of the 
 assembly, which would be the precursor of a civil 
 war. 
 
 Mallouet entered warmly into Duroverai's plan, 
 and brought M. Necker to the same way of thinking ; 
 but there was no direct communication between the 
 latter and Duroverai. 
 
 The plan of the royal session was adopted by the 
 king, but M. Necker's arguments in its favour were 
 made subservient to a modification which certainly 
 he never intended. After an animated discussion 
 in the council, the Count d'Artois and his party 
 triumphed ; and it was resolved that the decree of 
 the commons should be annulled, but without enjoin- 
 ing a union of the orders. Thus was the real object 
 of the measure done away, and nothing but its form 
 remained. M. Necker had aimed at combining 
 democracy with royalty ; but this measure had only 
 invested aristocracy with despotism. The forms of 
 authority which, with propriety, might be used to 
 ennoble a necessary act of condescension, became 
 revolting, when employed in an act of violence 
 which the king had no means of following up. Not 
 but the royal session in itself, when fairly considered, 
 
104 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 will be found to contain the strongest concessions 
 which monarch ever made to his subjects; and which, 
 at any other period, would have called forth their 
 warmest gratitude/ When a prince is powerful, 
 every thing he grants is a gift, every thing he does 
 not take, is a favour; but if he be weak, that which 
 he grants is only a debt due — that which he refuses 
 to comply with, an injustice. * 
 
 The commons determined to be a national assem- 
 bly. Nothing less would satisfy them. If the 
 government chose to oppose this, they should have 
 prepared the means of doing so ; but to annul the 
 decrees, and excite popular ferment, without taking 
 a single precaution, without even having a party in 
 the assembly, was an act of madness which led to 
 the overthrow of the monarchy. Nothing is more 
 dangerous than to stimulate a weak man to acts be- 
 yond his strength ; for when resistance to his will 
 has shown his real weakness, he has no resource left. 
 Thus was the royal authority degraded, and even 
 the people discovered the secret of the king's want 
 of power. 
 
 The measures attendant upon the royal session were 
 as badly combined as if they had related to the acts 
 of unruly school-boys. The hall of the states-gene- 
 ral was closed for three or four days, A display of 
 soldiers imparted to this measure the appearance of 
 
OF MlltABEAU. 105 
 
 violence. The deputies, driven from their hall at 
 the point of the bayonet, met in the famous Jeu-de- 
 Paumef or Tennis-court, where they swore never to 
 separate, until they had obtained a constitution. 
 
 Even the eighty members forming the minority 
 who had opposed the decree, took this oath ; for being- 
 ignorant of what was going on, they imagined that 
 the king was about to dissolve the states-general ; 
 andMirabeau, then labouring under the same mistake, 
 spoke so energetically against such dissolution, that 
 even his greatest enemies began to look upon him 
 as a giant, whose strength, in the present crisis of 
 aifairs, had become necessary to them. This scene, 
 — where fear was masked by an appearance of bold 
 determination — where the most timid became the 
 most violent — must have been witnessed to convey an 
 adequate conception of the evils it produced in the 
 course of the revolution. The alarmed deputies 
 were for ever alienated from the king's government ; 
 the oath was a tie of honour, and from that day, the 
 deputies of the tiers-etat were confederated against 
 the royal authority. This appearance of persecu- 
 tion redoubled the popularity of the commons, and 
 the Parisians were alarmed at their danger. The 
 Palais-Royal was a scene of absolute frenzy ; and dark 
 rumours seemed to menace the lives of some of the 
 most distinguished individuals at court. In a hazy 
 horizon, objects cannot be seen as they really are. 
 
 
 
106 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 The alarmed populace became suspicious and active, 
 nor could any subsequent conciliatory measures of the 
 court restore the public confidence. Such was the 
 true origin of that burning excitement so carefully 
 kept alive by two classes of men, the factious and the 
 timid. 
 
 The day after the meeting at the Jeu-de-Paume^ 
 the deputies, still excluded from their hall, in which 
 preparations were being made for the king's sitting, 
 presented themselves at the door of several churches, 
 but were not admitted. The sight of the represen- 
 tatives of the nation thus seeking an asylum and finding 
 none, increased the popular discontent. At length 
 they entered the church of St Louis, where a doubt- 
 ful majority of the clergy, headed by the Archbishop 
 of Vienne, the Archbishop of Bordeaux, and the 
 Bishop of Chartres, joined the deputies of the tiers- 
 etat amid transports which the approaching danger 
 rendered sincere. Greetings, applauses, pathetic 
 speeches, and even tears, announced that all were 
 united heart and hand against a common peril ; and 
 the conduct of the clergy on this occasion was the 
 more meritorious because it was voluntary. Who 
 would have anticipated at this period, that very 
 shortly after, an ecclesiastic would be unable to ap- 
 pear in public without suffering the most degrading 
 insults! 
 
 On the day of the royal session, I went to the pal- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 107 
 
 ace to witness the splendid pageant. I well remember 
 the hostile and triumphant looks of many individuals, 
 in their way to the chateau. They thought their 
 victory sure. I saw the king's ministers, whose emo- 
 tion, though they aifected unconcern, was but too 
 apparent. The attitude of the Count d'Artois was 
 haughty ; the king seemed pensive and sad. The 
 crowd was great, and the silence profound. When 
 the king got into his carriage, there were rolling of 
 drums and flourishes of trumpets, but not a sign of 
 approbation from the people, and fear alone prevented 
 an explosion of popular discontent. At length the 
 vast procession began to move. The royal household 
 and its officers, the guards, infantry and cavalry, 
 proceeded towards the hall of the states-general, in 
 which the three orders assembled were defying each 
 other with looks of mute indignation, and impatiently 
 awaiting the result of this important day. Never 
 had passions so violent, and so diametrically opposed 
 to each other, been before pent up in so small a space. 
 The ceremony was precisely the same as on the open- 
 ing of the states- general, but what a difference was 
 there in the feelings of the assembly ! The day of 
 the first ceremony was a national festival, — the, re- 
 generation of political freedom ; but now, the same 
 pomp which had delighted every eye, was covered 
 with a veil of terror. The sumptuous dresses of 
 the nobles, the magnificence of regal state, and the 
 
108 EECOLLECTIONS 
 
 splendour of royal pageantry, seemed the accompani- 
 ment of a funeral procession. 
 
 I was not present at the sitting, and have obtained 
 my knowledge of what passed from the recital of 
 others ; but I know, that when the king and nobles 
 had withdrawn, the comnioifs attempted to disguise 
 their consternation. They began to perceive the 
 consequences of the decree they had so unheedingly 
 promulgated, and found that they had now no other 
 alternative than to subjugate the monarchy, or basely 
 recall their act. No one had yet attempted to 
 speak, when a message from the king ordered them 
 to separate. It was then that Mirabeau uttered 
 those famous words which form an epoch in the revo- 
 lution, and which roused the sunken spirits of the 
 assembly.* The deliberation assumed a decisive 
 character, and the royal sitting was termed a bed of 
 justice. This called to mind how the parliaments 
 had always acted on such emergencies — how often 
 the latter had dared to annul the orders given to 
 them by the king in person, and succeeded, by their 
 perseverance, in triumphing over the court. Before 
 the deputies separated, they confirmed their decree, 
 and renewed the oath of the Jeu-de-Paume; and 
 scarcely had the king entered the palace, when the 
 proceedings of the royal session were cancelled. 
 
 * " Go, tell your master that we are here by the power of the 
 people, and nothing but the force of bayonets shall drive lis 
 hence !" 
 
OF MIRABBAU. 109 
 
 One circumstance which encouraged the resistance 
 of the deputies, was that M. Necker had not attended 
 the king on this occasion. He w^as the only minister 
 not present, and his absence seemed to mark his 
 disapprobation of the measure. His popularity 
 thence prodigiously increased, and the people con- 
 sidered him as their safe-guard against the storm. 
 The assembly, who afterwards became jealous of the 
 people's affection for him, because they wanted to 
 engross it all to themselves, felt it their interest at 
 that period, to make him a public idol, and, with 
 his name, to counterbalance the court. His absence, 
 however, originated in a very simple cause. There 
 was a certain M. de Riol, who called himself a 
 Chevalier and wore some Swedish order,— a very 
 significant personage, who contrived to thrust him- 
 self every where. Although a subaltern, he lived 
 on terms of great familiarity with M. Necker. We 
 had become acquainted with this individual, who 
 called upon us on the very day of the royal session. 
 He assured us that he had found M. Necker on the 
 point of setting out for M. de Montmorin's, in order 
 to proceed to the palace, and accompany the king 
 to the assembly ; but that he (Riol) conjured him to 
 do no such thing, as he would inevitably have to 
 share in the odium of the measure, and would be un- 
 able to do any good in future. Riol added, that he 
 had carried his zeal so far as to tell Necker he would 
 
110 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 rather break one of his arms or legs, than suifer him 
 to proceed; and that Madame Necker, in great 
 agitation, having joined her entreaties to his, M. 
 Necker at last yielded. I have no reason either to 
 doubt or to confirm this fact ; but if it be true, M. 
 Necker suffered his determination, on so important a 
 matter, to be influenced by a very insignificant per- 
 sonage.* It is, however, certain, that a witless man 
 often communicates his fears in a more persuasive 
 manner than an intellectual one ; and his gestures 
 sometimes produce a stronger effect than either rea- 
 son or eloquence. But surely M. Necker was not 
 to blame for not sanctioning, with his presence, a 
 measure in furtherance of which his speeches had 
 been insidiously used, after changing the vital part 
 of the plan he had proposed. 
 
 Mirabeau was made acquainted by Claviere, who 
 could not keep a secret, with the true origin of the 
 royal session. He complained of it to me in terms 
 of indignation. " Duroverai," said he, ^^did not 
 think me worthy of being consulted. He looks upon 
 
 * Impartiality forces us to state that Madame de Stael, in her 
 *• Considerations on the French Revolution," (Chap 20) attri- 
 butes M. Necker's absence to a determination previously taken, 
 in consequence of the changes made in his plan ; and according 
 to the same authority, M. Necker replied to the wish, expressed 
 by the court, that he should be present at the royal session, by 
 tendering his resignation. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. Ill 
 
 me, I know, as a madman with lucid intervals. But 
 I could have told him beforehand what would be the 
 fate of his plan. It is not wdth such an elastic tem- 
 perament as that of the French, that these brutal 
 forms must be resorted to. And what kind of man 
 is this M. Necker, that he should be trusted with 
 such means ? You might as well make an issue in a 
 wooden leg as give him, advice ; for he certainly 
 could not follow it.'' /ind getting warmer as he 
 proceeded, he conclu^led with these remarkable 
 words, " It is thus that kings are led to the scaf- 
 fold:' 
 
112 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 At this period great agitation commenced among 
 the people. I have no doubt that there were meet- 
 ings to promote insurrection, paid declaimers, a 
 great deal of money distributed, and that the primary 
 agents of the directors at Versailles, were more nu- 
 merous among the minority of the nobles, than in 
 the tiers-etat. I will not, indeed, venture to assert, 
 that I am acquainted with particulars ; but I firmly 
 believe that the deputies of the tiers-etat acted, at 
 this momentous crisis, with very little concert among 
 themselves. There was a commencement of organi- 
 zation only among the deputies from Brittany, who 
 had already been somewhat drilled into the tactics of 
 popular assemblies, by their public disputes in their 
 native province. So far as I was able to ascertain, 
 the Breton club, which was acquiring great impor- 
 tance, had been got up by the minority of the nobles ; 
 but there will be no complete history of the revolu- 
 tion, until some member of this party publishes the 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 113 
 
 secret memoirs of its transactions. I well remember 
 an anecdote of that period. I one day encountered 
 Sieyes, who had just quitted a meeting composed of 
 Bretons, and of members belonging to the minority 
 of the nobles. He mentioned no names, but said, 
 *^ I will return to those men no more. Their poli- 
 tics are too cavernous, and they propose crimes 
 instead of expedients." 
 
 Duport and the Lameths had the reputation of 
 having machinated the revolution of Paris. It was 
 easy for the Duke of Orleans to put the centre dis- 
 tricts in motion. He was like a spider in the midst 
 of his web. But I know nothing of these events, 
 except through public channels. Mirabeau was not 
 connected with them. His fiery and ungovernable 
 temper disqualified him for coalitions. His ideas 
 were not sufiiciently connected, nor did he inspire 
 sufficient confidence to become a chief, and he had 
 too much pride to play a subordinate part. He 
 therefore remained independent ; envious to an ex- 
 cess of every rising influence, epigrammatic by 
 wholesale, a retail dealer in flattery, and alienated 
 from his colleagues by his contempt for some, and 
 his jealousy of others. I often went to Paris with 
 him, and I am convinced that he had no share in the 
 rising of the Parisians. 
 
 They who would account for the French revolu- 
 tion, by attributing it to concealed machinators; are 
 p 
 
114 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 mistaken. Such machinators did certainly not pro- 
 duce the public feeling ; they only took advantage 
 of it. It is true, that they excited and directed it ; 
 but it is absurd to suppose that any conspirators, at 
 this period, could have caused so sudden and violent 
 an impulse ; — one, in short, so vast as to include, 
 simultaneously, the whole French nation. Every 
 one was in motion at Paris; even the coldest and 
 most calculating participated in the phrenzy of the 
 moment. The whole popular mass was in a state of 
 extreme caldescence. A word from the Palais 
 Royal, an accidental movement, the merest trifle, in 
 fine, might cause a general commotion. In such a 
 state of things, tumult begets tumult, and the disease 
 of the evening is aggravated next day. 
 
 Although the details are somewhat eifaced from 
 my recollection, I yet well remember the interval 
 between the royal session and the mournful appari- 
 tion of the king, at the assembly, when he came to 
 deliver himself up, or rather to place his person in 
 deposit there, after the capture of the Bastille. I 
 recollect this period as one of trouble, confusion, 
 and obscurity. False alarms were given, people 
 knew and did not know, orders were given and re- 
 voked, every thing was attempted to be guessed at 
 and explained, and a motive was attributed to the 
 most indiiferent actions. The palace was watched ; 
 spies were placed every where, and each trifle was 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 115 
 
 made of consequence. There were insurrections at 
 Versailles, originating, not in a preconcerted plan, 
 but in a suspicious and irascible disposition. Mean- 
 time, the three orders remained divided, and had 
 assumed hostile attitudes. The court sent troops to 
 quell these insurrections. Versailles was filled with 
 foreign soldiers, and military measures seemed every 
 where adopted. There were whispers of a change 
 of ministry, and the new names mentioned did not 
 tend to tranquillize the commons. So much bustle 
 on the part of the court, could be intended only to 
 enforce obedience to the royal session, either by re- 
 moving the assembly to a greater distance from 
 Paris, its proximity to which was dangerous, or by 
 dissolving it altogether, if this could be done without 
 the risk of a civil war, the idea of which made the 
 king shudder. But whatever were the intentions 
 of the court or of those who conducted its aifairs, 
 such intentions were certainly not in unison with 
 those of the king; there was an alarming secrecy in 
 the whole conduct of the court party; secret prepa- 
 rations were discovered, and plans seemed to be in a 
 course of development, but no result was ever per- 
 ceived. Such conduct raised general indignation, 
 and the fermentation at Paris was dreadful. 
 
 Reybaz and Claviere returned from Paris, and 
 assured us that it would be impossible to contain the 
 
116 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 people. They urged Mirabeau to stand forward 
 upon this occasion. " If/' said they, '^ the tiers-etat 
 were wrong in voting themselves a national assembly, 
 still it is a measure which cannot now be recalled, 
 without degrading the representatives of the people, 
 and affording a complete triumph to the insolence of 
 the aristocracy. Should the states- general be dis- 
 solved, a national bankruptcy must be the inevitable 
 consequence. The people will rejoice at this, because 
 the government will reduce the taxes ; there will be 
 then no further difficulty, and the cause of freedom 
 will be lost." I am certain, that at this period, the 
 creditors of the state, a very numerous and active 
 body, who were all powerful at Paris, were acting in 
 direct opposition to the court, because they perceived 
 but too plainly, that if the government declared a 
 national bankruptcy, the deficit would be thought no 
 more of, and the words states- general j, constitutiony 
 and sovereignty of the people , totally forgotten. 
 
 It was at length discovered, that agents of the 
 court were sounding the regiments recently arrived 
 at Versailles, and likewise the French guards, in 
 order to ascertain how far their fidelity to the govern- 
 ment might be depended on. There was now no 
 time to be lost, and it was thought necessary that the 
 king himself should be warned of these manoeuvres, 
 the object and danger of which were probably con- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 117 
 
 cealed from him. These points were introduced by 
 Mirabeau into his famous speech upon the removal 
 of the troops. Tliis speech was a sort of abstract of 
 every thing that had been said upon the subject, 
 during our private conferences. I wrote it, arid 
 Duroverai drew up the resolutions containing the 
 proposed measure. One of these resolutions called 
 upon the king to establish a militia of citizens. It 
 was the only one rejected by the assembly, though, 
 perhaps, it was the most important. Duroverai saw 
 that if the people took up arms, the royal authority 
 would be annihilated; but if the king himself armed 
 the citizens, such a choice of men and oJBicers might 
 be made, that this institution, like the English mili- 
 tia, would be a bulwark against insurrection, without 
 alarming the advocates of liberty. The last of these 
 resolutions was to present an address to the king, 
 relative to the removal of the troops. A committee 
 was appointed to draw up this address; for the 
 assembly sent every thing to committees, in order to 
 give as little importance as possible to individuals. 
 But as writing in common is the most difficult of all 
 conjunct functions, Mirabeau was requested by the 
 committee to make a draft of the address. Anima- 
 ted by the success of the speech, and full of the sub- 
 ject, encouraged, moreover, by the flattery and 
 aifectionate caresses of Mirabeau, whom the applause 
 of the assembly had filled with delight, I wrote with 
 
118 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 great ease and rapidity, in the interval between one 
 sitting and another, the address to the king.* 
 
 I remember a circumstance which amused me at 
 the time. Garat, who was a member of the commit- 
 tee, came to ask the hour at which Mirabeau could 
 attend. I was then in the heat of composition, and 
 he was obliged to elude replying, by shuffling and 
 giving an oblique turn to the question. Next day, 
 at M. de la Rochefoucauld's, another member of the 
 committee, whose name I forget, spoke greatly in 
 favour of this address, and praised the modesty of 
 Mirabeau, who had consented to all the alterations 
 demanded, as if, in this composition, he had foregone 
 his vanity of authorship. I know not whether my 
 self-love were more sensible on the occasion than his, 
 but I certainly thought that the alterations had not 
 improved the address. Duroverai kept the original 
 for a long time, a thing I did not even think of. 
 Though flattered by the applause bestowed upon 
 this production, I was not silly enough to fancy it a 
 masterpiece. I considered that its greatest merit 
 arose from the circumstance which occasioned it. 
 There was dignity and simplicity in the style, with 
 as much oratorical eloquence as was consistent with 
 the respect due to the monarch, and with the dig- 
 nity of the assembly who addressed him. The 
 
 * Vide Appendix, No. 1. 
 
OF MIHABEAU. 119 
 
 expressions were measured and unctuous, and the 
 whole was in good keeping with the subject. Mira- 
 beau approved of it the more because he felt himself 
 unable to write in this particular way : ^^ My style 
 readily assumes force," said he, ^^and I have a com- 
 mand of strong expressions ; but, if I want to be mild, 
 unctuous, and measured, I become insipid, and my 
 flabby style makes me sick." 
 
 Had I afterwards discovered any faults in this ad- 
 dress, I must not have pointed them out to Mirabeau ; 
 for he attached himself so strongly to his adopted 
 children that he felt for them the affection of a pa- 
 rent.* 
 
 If the honour of these compositions had belonged 
 to another, it must not be thought that the unknown 
 author would have derived no satisfaction from them. 
 The approbation of a circle of some half dozen friends 
 is always flattering, without including those whom 
 they may have let into the secret. I have not to ac- 
 cuse myself of any indiscretion of this kind ; or, 
 
 * When T worked for Mirabeau, I seemed to feel the pleasure 
 of an obscure individual who had changed his children at nurse, 
 and introduced them into a great family. He would be obliged 
 to respect them, although he was their father. Such was the 
 case with my writings. When Mirabeau had once adopted them, 
 he would have defended them even against me ; more than that 
 ^he would have allowed me to admire them, as an act of esteem 
 and friendship for himself. — Note by Dumont. 
 
120 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 strictly speaking, perhaps, my own self-love may 
 have been the best guardian of the secret 5 for the 
 instant I had been tempted to reveal it^ I should have 
 fancied that I perceived an expression of doubt and 
 incredulity upon every countenance. But in sober 
 earnest, I can declare that, knowing such a proceed- 
 ing to be repugnant to delicacy and friendship, the 
 temptation never once occurred to me. 
 
 I was not long in perceiving that Mirabeau's friends 
 considered Duroverai and me as his writers. His 
 life of agitation, his being much out, his occupations 
 at the assembly, his committees, his loss of time, and 
 his taste for pleasure, prevented those who knew him 
 from considering him the author of the writings which 
 appeared in his name. At a later period, a greater 
 number of workmen were added to this manufactory. 
 But when I was designated in the ^cts of the Jlpos- 
 ties, and other pamphlets, at one of Mirabeau's au- 
 thors, I no longer felt the same pleasure in writing 
 for him ; and this circumstance determined me, as I 
 shall hereafter explain, to return to England. 
 
 The king's answer to the address was not satisfac- 
 tory. His personal intentions were thought good, 
 and he was supposed to be led astray by deception 
 practised upon him. There was a plan in a course 
 of development, whose extent and object were not 
 known. But the threats of certain subordinates, 
 their insulting looks, apparent preparations for a 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 121 
 
 coup d'etat, the movements of the troops, nocturnal 
 visits to the guard houses by officers of rank, secret 
 councils at court, to which M. Necker was not sum- 
 moned, and a thousand particulars of the same de- 
 scription, constituted the events of every day. These 
 were again exaggerated and distorted by the general 
 uneasiness and alarm. No one was yet bold enough 
 to speak of the conspiracy of the court — this name 
 was not applied till after the victory ; — but the con- 
 sternation was general. The approach of the troops 
 and the dismissal of M. Necker, brought on the in- 
 surrection of Paris. I say nothing of the public 
 events of which I was not an eye-witness. I remained 
 at Versailles with the national assembly, whose in- 
 trepidity was not to be shaken by the approach of 
 danger. It was no longer divided into parties ; all 
 had one unanimous feeling. The dissolution of the 
 states- general appeared to all pregnant with the 
 greatest danger. 
 
 The sitting of Monday, the 13th of July, was 
 awfully calm. There were a thousand confused re- 
 ports relative to what had occurred at Paris on the 
 preceding day. It was known that the people had 
 repulsed the regiment of the prince of Lambesc, and 
 driven it back to the Tuilleries : that the French 
 guards had joined the people, and had been engaged 
 with the Swiss ; that the populace were arming, that 
 they had broken open the armourer's shops, and 
 Q 
 
122 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 closed the city gates , and that Paris, in a word, was 
 in open insurrection. Mirabeau told us that he had 
 a list of proscriptions 5 that Sieyes, Chapelier, La- 
 fayette, Lameth, himself, and several others, were to 
 be arrested ; that they had been put upon their guard 
 and intended to pass the night at the assembly, where 
 they should consider themselves safer than in their 
 own houses. The assembly continued its sitting 
 throughout the night, and in the intervals between 
 the deputations dispatched to the king to beseech him 
 to withdraw the troops whose presence had inflamed 
 the metropolis ; they discussed, if I remember rightly, 
 a declaration of the rights of man, presented by Lafay- 
 ette. In his answer to the deputation, the king stated 
 that his heart was lacerated ; that it was impossible 
 the orders he had given, for the restoration of the 
 public peace, could have led to the rising of Paris. 
 But he spoke not of withdrawing the troops, and the 
 individuals by whom he was surrounded, were not 
 calculated to restore confidence. The plan of the 
 court seemed to continue its progress, when the as- 
 sembly made a last effort, and on the Tuesday morn- 
 ing sent a more solemn deputation to the king. Mi- 
 rabeau, with a voice rendered hoarse by watching, 
 fatigue, and uneasiness, said a few words, which were 
 rapturously applauded. 
 
 It is a well known fact that the troops at Versailles 
 hac} declined obedience ; and that after the fall of 
 
OF MIRABEALT. 123 
 
 the Bastille, and the metamorphosis^ which, in two 
 days, had changed the peaceful citizens of Paris into 
 an army of two hundred thousand men, the king had 
 no other alternative than to unite himself to the na- 
 tional assembly, and seek his safety among its members. 
 What a contrast, then, did the sitting of the 18th of 
 June form with those which had preceded it ! The 
 king announced his intention of going to Paris forth- 
 with. Mirabeau, astonished at this resolve, and still 
 more so at its subsequent execution, afterwards said 
 to me, ^* He must be a bold mortal who advised this 
 step. Had the king not followed the advice, Paris 
 was lost to him for ever. Two or three days later, 
 and he would have been unable to return thither." 
 I attribute these words to the singular sagacity with 
 which Mirabeau was gifted. He knew the Duke of 
 Orleans's party, and might have thought that this 
 prince would have taken advantage of the circum- 
 stances to obtain possession of the metropolis. If the 
 Duke's party did indeed form any such plan, it was 
 frustrated by the sudden appearance of the king, 
 who, thereby, in some degree, revived the almost 
 extinct affection of the Parisians. It seemed as 
 though the two hundred thousand men under arms 
 had concerted among themselves to receive him with 
 the most appalling solemnity. In proceeding to the 
 Hotel-de-Ville, he heard no other cry than, *^ long 
 live the assembly !" but on his return, as if the chas- 
 
124 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 tisement had been severe enough, he was saluted by 
 acclamations of "long live the king!" 
 
 The king was a man of w^eak character, but by no 
 means timid ; of which his conduct on this day fur- 
 nished a striking illustration. It required a great de- 
 gree of courage to go into the midst of an enraged pop- 
 ulace, w^ho seemed conferring a favour on their mo- 
 narch by receiving him within the walls of his own 
 capital. When M. Bailly told him that Henry IV. 
 had conquered his people, but the people had now 
 conquered their king, he turned round and said in a 
 whisper to the Prince of Beauveau, "Perhaps I had 
 better not hear that." The Prince of Beauveau 
 made a sign, in reply, and the orator proceeded. 
 
 The death of the Marquis of Mirabeau, the author 
 of " The Friend of Man,^^ obhged Mirabeau to 
 absent himself from the assembly for a few days. 
 This occurred during the motions for the recall of 
 M. Necker, and against the new ministers. M. Ber- 
 trand de Molleville, who has enriched his pretended 
 <^ Annals of the Revolution" with all his own preju- 
 dices, has attributed Mirabeau's silence on these oc- 
 casions to profound intentions. 
 
 Mirabeau had made me promise to employ my lei- 
 sure time in writing for him a sketch of the revolu- 
 tion. I began it at Paris, but I had great difficulty 
 in collecting facts, reconciling contradictions, redu- 
 cing exaggeration, and separating truth from false- 
 
OF MTRABEAU. 125 
 
 hood. The causes of events were always hidden, 
 the secret councils of the court unknown. Much 
 might always be urged on both sides of the question, 
 and it might be maintained with perhaps equal plau- 
 sibility, that there was a court conspiracy, and that 
 there was not. It appeared to me necessary to dis- 
 tinguish the acts of the king from those of his min- 
 isters, and to represent him as having concurred in a 
 plan of which the most vital points had been con- 
 cealed from him. Even with regard to Paris itself, 
 the more the scene was extended, the more confused 
 were the details. Some described to me the capture 
 of the Bastille as a wonderful achievement ; others 
 reduced it to a mere nothing, and I really knew not 
 what conclusion to come to with regard to Launay and 
 his invalids. The crimes of the period appeared to 
 me the mere effect of sudden excitement, but every 
 one seemed to believe that they were mixed up with 
 treachery. Persuaded at last that the secret history 
 of no great political event was ever well known even 
 at the period of its occurrence, I wrote, in the best 
 way I could, the account contained in the nineteenth 
 letter of Miraheau to his constituents, in which he 
 made some alterations, and struck outsome express- 
 ions of doubt, because the court conspiracy was more 
 manifest to him than to me. This letter was prodi- 
 giously successful. 
 
126 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 All Mirabeau's letters to his constituents, begin- 
 ning from the eleventh, were written by either Du- 
 roverai or me. Mirabeau, who was very desirous of 
 keeping us at Paris during the session of the Nation- 
 al Assembly, proposed a literary partnership which 
 oifered a good chance of profit. This was to write 
 a regular journal in his name, the profits of which, 
 after deducting the expenses, should be equally di- 
 vided between himself, le Jay the bookseller, Durov- 
 erai and me. We were to include in the outgoings 
 of the paper a reasonable monthly sum for our current 
 expenses. The title of the journal was " Le Courrier 
 de ProvenceP It was announced in the nineteenth 
 letter to which. I alluded at the end of the last chap- 
 ter ; and although the subscription was high, so many 
 subscribers appeared, that we all fancied our fortunes 
 made. In a few days, our list contained more than 
 three thousand names. Orders from the provinces 
 were large in proportion. If le Jay had been a man of 
 
OF MIRAEEAU. 127 
 
 business; or if his wife, who managed every thing, 
 had shown a little order and probity, they would have 
 acquired a rapid fortune, for they had a considerable 
 allowance for printing and commission. They had, 
 besides, a fourth part of the net profits, and Mirabeau 
 had given up his share to them also; but their impro- 
 priety of conduct and rapacity ruined the undertak- 
 ing. Being entirely occupied in writing the articles, 
 and residing, moreover, at Versailles, we were obliged 
 to trust wholly to their integrity. The subscribers 
 were continually making complaints ; and those in the 
 provinces were so neglected that they were sometimes 
 a whole month without receiving any paper, because 
 le Jay had often not money enough to pay for the car- 
 riage of the papers by the diligence. The parcels 
 were delayed, and the country booksellers complained 
 without obtaining redress. The printer at Paris re- 
 fused to print when his payments were behind hand, 
 and Mirabeau was often obliged to make advances to 
 keep the thing going. When, at the expiration of 
 four months, we called for an account, there was none 
 forthcoming. Madame le Jay concealed her books. 
 She had furnished her house and stocked her shop 
 with the money received, and her small pamphlet 
 stall had been converted into a splendid bookseller's 
 shop ; in short, all in her establishment announced 
 opulence; but having appropriated to herself the 
 amount of the subscriptions, she would come to no 
 
128 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 settlement. I left it to Duroverai to settle this busi- 
 ness, for litigation did not accord with my habits. 
 Money matters interested me very little, and I un- 
 derstood them not. Mirabeau was placed between 
 two fires. He was irritated at Madame le Jay's dis- 
 honesty, and said to her one day in my presence, 
 *' Madame le Jay, if probity did not exist, it should 
 be invented as a means of growing rich." But 
 Madame le Jay had other means of obtaining the vic- 
 tory, and Mirabeau's liaison with this artful and de- 
 termined female permitted him not to make too much 
 noise. She was in possession of all his secrets ; knew 
 too many anecdotes about him ; and was too danger- 
 ous and too fond of mischief for him to think of a 
 rupture, although he was tired of her, and in the 
 high sphere in which he was moving, often felt that 
 such a connection degraded him. This is the only 
 time, during the whole course of my life, that I was 
 ever involved in a dispute relative to money matters, 
 and had an opportunity of closely observing the ma- 
 noeuvres of fraud and the passion of cupidity. Le 
 Jay was a fool who promised every thing ; but he 
 trembled like a child before his wife. Mirabeau, 
 ashamed of our disappointment, swore that the nation- 
 al assembly was easier to govern than a woman who 
 had made up her mind. But violence is always over- 
 come by sang-froid. She replied to his reproaches 
 with the most piquant raillery. "All the bar," 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 129 
 
 said he, ^^ would grow grey before they could con- 
 vince her. I defy the most artful lawyer to find the 
 subtleties which she invents.'^ As it was impossible 
 to recover our money by a law-suit, we came to a 
 determination of ceasing our contributions to the jour- 
 nal. This disconcerted her at first ; but she thought 
 she could easily induce me to go on again, and under- 
 took it in a conversation full of artifice. Without 
 anger, and without even alluding to the subject of our 
 quarrel, I drily told her that I would never separate 
 from Duroverai. " Very well," replied she, " do as 
 you please. I am sorry for it ; but there are other 
 writers in this great city besides you, and I have al- 
 ready received advances from several." On leaving 
 me she applied to all the literary men she knew, and 
 proposed her journal; for in her own opinion it was 
 as much her property as any estate she might have 
 purchased ; and she had considered Duroverai and 
 me merely as two labourers in her hire. After many 
 fruitless attempts, she at length got two individuals to 
 undertake it; one of whom was M. Guiraudez, a 
 man of talent and learning, whom I had met at Mira- 
 beau's. Such a proceeding, more than uncivil, and 
 which surprised me much, met with its just reward ; 
 for had these gentlemen possessed more talent than 
 really belonged to them, they had not not been in the 
 practice of attending the national assembly, were una- 
 ble to designate individuals, and having no communi- 
 
130 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 cations with any of the deputies, through whom alone 
 they could have ascertained what was going on be- 
 hind the scenes, they gave nothing but long and tame 
 extracts from speeches, without being able to afford 
 any interesting information. Mirabeau was furious 
 at the abuse of his name, and wanted to insert notices 
 in all the public prints. 
 
 Complaints to Madame le Jay poured in from all 
 quarters. Guiraudez and his colleague, ashamed of 
 their conduct, and still more at their want of success, 
 — overwhelmed, moreover, with reproaches from 
 Mirabeau, — repented of what they had done ; and 
 without coming to any settlement with Madame le 
 Jay about the past, we entered into a new arrange- 
 ment for the future. 
 
 I know not why I have written these insignificant 
 details. I shall expunge them if I find hereafter 
 that these Recollections become suflSciently interest- 
 ing to deserve my more particular attention. 
 
 The composition of this journal became a source 
 of amusement to us. Duroverai and I undertook 
 the alternate sittings of the assembly. A few words 
 written in pencil, sufficed to call to our recollection 
 the arguments of a speech and the order of a debate. 
 We never intended to give all the idle prating in the 
 tribune. As most of the important speeches were 
 written, Mirabeau took care to ask for them for us, 
 and many deputies sent them as from themselves. 
 
OF MIR ABE AU. 131 
 
 The most diffuse sometimes complained of our re- 
 ducing their dropsical and turgescent productions. 
 
 Though few were satisfied, yet Mirabeau received 
 thanks which he did not fail to transmit us. '^ The 
 provincials must think, '^ said Chapelier to him, 
 ^^that we speak like oracles, when we are read 
 stripped of our verbiage and nonsense." 
 
 Our principal care in important discussions, was to 
 omit no argument advanced by either party. It was 
 an impartial expose of the case. Even Mirabeau, 
 although his extravagances were palliated, obtained 
 no flattery. Barring a few innocent pleasantries, 
 which served to amuse our readers, we never indulged 
 in personalities, and, except in a few particular cases, 
 Mirabeau himself felt that the greatest service we 
 could render him was never to lend ourselves to the 
 vengeance of his self-love. Sieyes complained bit- 
 terly of some criticisms upon his ^'^ Rights of Man" 
 and upon his ^^ Principles of Constitutions." " Do 
 not make me quarrel with that man," said Mira- 
 beau, <^for his vanity is implacable." 
 
 I have lately read many articles of this journal, 
 and am now surprised at the boldness with which the 
 assembly is censured. The want of order and con- 
 nection in its constitutional and financial operations ; 
 its manner of laying down general principles and over- 
 looking details ; its insidious manner of anticipating 
 decisions ; its having overthrown the old established 
 
132 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 authority before other institutions were formed to 
 replace it 5 its constituting itself an oflGice of delation ; 
 and its usurpation of ministerial duties, are all visited 
 with severe comments. The defects of its internal 
 regulations are presented with the boldness of naked 
 truth, and a faithful picture is given of its incoherent 
 disorder, and the fiery impatience always attendant 
 upon its proceedings. 
 
 During an absence of Duroverai, in 1790, M. 
 Reybaz, who had already supplied us with several 
 very interesting articles, undertook his share of the 
 work, and executed it with much more accuracy than 
 he. I ended my labours, in the beginning of March, 
 by a discussion on religious communities and the 
 spirit of monarchism. Duroverai and Reybaz con- 
 tinued together for some months, and the paper, 
 abandoned at length by Mirabeau, became a mere 
 compilation of speeches and decrees, and retained 
 nothing of our journal but the name. 
 
 I was often disgusted with this work, because 
 the simple operation of abridging speeches and 
 reporting the tumultuous proceedings of the assem- 
 bly, was not a kind of occupation to afford me plea- 
 sure. On the other hand, the rapidity of the whirl- 
 wind by which the assembly was swept along, left no 
 time for study and meditation. Thus the work, in 
 spite of some tolerable articles, is mediocre and often 
 very bad. I am not surprised that it incurred at last 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 133 
 
 the same contempt as all the ephemeral productions 
 of that period. I shall, however, extract in another 
 place, some passages which may serve to give an 
 idea of the interior of the assembly, and which no one 
 would take the trouble of looking for in a large com- 
 pilation. 
 
 Besides my contributions to this journal, I con- 
 tinued to supply my share of Mirabeau's legisla- 
 tive labours. I shall now proceed to matters much 
 more interesting. 
 
134 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 After the insurrection of Paris, the national as- 
 sembly was soon completed by the union with it 
 of the majority of the nobles and the minority 
 of the clergy. The forms of ordinary civility 
 were still entertained, by the tiers-etaty towards 
 these two orders, who were received with silence 
 and dignity, but without bravado. The speeches 
 of Bailly, then president of the assembly, were too 
 complimentary, and sincerity was sacrificed to good- 
 breeding. Whilst the bosoms of all were ulcerated 
 and bleeding, their words breathed nothing but 
 friendship and concord. These manoeuvres were in- 
 tended to impose upon the people ; but the people 
 were not to be so imposed upon, and such forced and 
 evidently hypocritical language tended only to de- 
 stroy their confidence in the assembly. 
 
 The disorders of the Paris insurrection had not 
 ceased, and the massacres with which the metropolis 
 had been disgraced, were imitated in the provinces. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 135 
 
 Under these circumstances, several members pro- 
 posed an address from the national assembly to the 
 people. After the success of my first, I considered 
 addresses as belonging to my peculiar department, 
 and I wrote one which was a species of political ser- 
 mon. It was at first applauded, but ultimately re- 
 jected. I know not whether it thwarted the views 
 of certain persons ; be that as it may, it was much 
 praised but not accepted. It was afterwards printed 
 in the Courrier de Provence,* Whether this ad- 
 dress were adopted or not, it would have made not 
 the slightest difference. Insurrections are not to be 
 arrested by words ; and if, under such circumstances, 
 an exhortation ever succeeds, it is when used only 
 as a preamble to force. 
 
 So fearful were the assembly of ofiending the 
 people, that motions tending to the repression of 
 disorder, and the censure of popular excesses, were 
 considered almost as snares. Mistrust was still in 
 every bosom. The assembly had triumphed by 
 means of the people, towards whom, therefore, they 
 could not display great severity ; and it is a notorious 
 fact, that although they often stated in their pream- 
 bles how severely they were afflicted and irritated, 
 at the violent excesses committed by the brigands, 
 who burned chateaus and insulted the nobility — they 
 
 * Vide Appendix, No. 2. 
 
136 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 secretly rejoiced, in reality, at the existence of a 
 terror, which they conceived salutary. They had 
 placed themselves between the alternatives of fearing 
 the nobles, or being feared by them. They censured 
 to save appearances, but policy prevented them 
 from punishing ; they paid compliments to authority, 
 but gave encouragement to licentiousness. Respect 
 for the executive was, with them, a mere formula of 
 style, and, in fact, when the king's ministers came 
 and manifested their weakness, and revealed their 
 direful anticipations, the assembly, remembering their 
 own late fears, were not sorry that fear had changed 
 sides. ^^ If you were powerful enough to be feared 
 by the people, you would be sufficiently so to be 
 feared by us I" Such was the feeling prevalent 
 among what was called the cote gauche. It was the 
 reaction of fear. 
 
 I must not omit that, at this period, not only the 
 general opinion in France, but that of all Europe, 
 was in favour of the democratic party in the assem- 
 bly. A feeling of pleasure was generally enter- 
 tained at a revolution which had overthrown the 
 ancient government of France. 
 
 It may be said, with truth, that throughout Eu- 
 rope, all who were not patricians, had trembled for 
 the fate of the commons, and had considered their 
 delivery as a service rendered to the human race in 
 general. It was the cause of mankind against the 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 137 
 
 powers usurped by the exclusive and privileged 
 classes. The unhappy events which debased the 
 revolution, throw at the present day a sinister shade 
 even upon its very cradle. We are ashamed of hav- 
 ing admiredj at its birth, a cause which, during its 
 progress, we were forced to abhor. But let the im- 
 partial historian recollect, that when the French 
 revolution first broke out, there was a general excite- 
 ment, a sort of intoxication of hope ; and that the 
 enthusiasm raised by the grandeur of the object, 
 generated a degree of insensibility to its first ex- 
 cesses, which were considered merely as unfortunate 
 accidents occurring during the ceremony of a na- 
 tional triumph. Surely, every part of a ruined and 
 antiquated edifice could not fall to the ground with- 
 out crushing some of the mistaken individuals who 
 persevered in their endeavours to prop it up. Such 
 was the opinion of the master minds of Europe, of 
 the soundest philosophers, the greatest philanthro- 
 pists, and the dearest friends of freedom. If it 
 were an error, it was a universal one. England, as 
 the noblest and most free, declared her opinions in a 
 more marked manner than other states ; and in that 
 kingdom, the news of the fall of the Bastille was re- 
 ceived with the most joyful acclamations. If the 
 British government did not allow that event to be re- 
 presented on the stage, it was only from personal 
 respect for the king of France. The whole nation 
 
138 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 felt the strongest sympathy towards the French peo- 
 ple, with whom they sincerely rejoiced at the over- 
 throw of despotism. 
 
 This enthusiasm was maintained almost throughout 
 the existence of the first national assembly. It 
 diminished after the events of the 5th and 6th of 
 . October. Many admirers cooled in their praise, and 
 many influential men began to think that the French 
 people were treating, with too great indignity, a king 
 who had done so much for them ; and to fear that the 
 national character was too impetuous, and too violent 
 for the rational enjoyment of freedom. So small, how- 
 ever, was the number of individuals who disapprov- 
 ed, that their opinion made but a slight impression. 
 The first decisive blow struck at the enthusiasm in 
 favour of the revolution, was that famous production 
 of Burke's, in which alone he grappled with the gi- 
 gantic strength of the assembly, and represented 
 these new legislators, in the full enjoyment of power 
 and honours, as so many maniacs, who could destroy, 
 but who were unable to replace. This work, res- 
 plendent with genius and eloquence, though written 
 in an age when imagination was on the decline, led 
 to the formation of two parties in England. How- 
 ever the arguments of Burke may seem to have been 
 justified by posterior events, it yet remains to be 
 shown, that the war cry then raised against France 
 did not greatly contribute to the violence which 
 
OF MIUABEAU. 139 
 
 characterised that period. It is possible, that had 
 he merely roused the attention of the governments 
 and wealthy classes to the dangers of this new poli- 
 tical creed, he might have proved the saviour of Eu- 
 rope ; but he made such exaggerated statements, and 
 used arguments so alarming to freedom, that on many 
 points, he was not only plausibly, but victoriously 
 refuted. Be that as it may, this publication of 
 Burke's, which was a manifesto against the assembly, 
 had a prodigious success in England. The Ger- 
 mans, who more than any other people, had winced 
 under the yoke of the nobles, persevered in their 
 admiration of the French legislators. 
 
 The united national assembly commenced their 
 proceedings with the famous declaration on the rights 
 of man. The idea was American, and there was 
 scarcely a member who did not consider such a de- 
 claration an indispensable preliminary. I well re- 
 member the long debate on the subject, which lasted 
 several weeks, as a period of mortal ennui. There 
 were silly disputes about words, much metaphysical 
 trash, and dreadfully tedious prosing. The assem- 
 bly had converted itself into a Sorbonne, and each 
 apprentice in the art of legislation was trying his 
 yet unfledged wings upon such puerilities. After 
 the rejection of several models, a committee of five 
 members was appointed to present a new one. Mira- 
 beau, one of the five, undertook the work with his 
 
140 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 usual generosity, but imposed its execution upon his 
 friends. He set about the task, and there were he, 
 Duroverai, Claviere, and I, writing, disputing, add- 
 ing, striking out, and exhausting both time and 
 patience upon this ridiculous subject. At length 
 we produced our piece of patchwork, our mosaic of 
 pretended natural rights which never existed. Dur- 
 ing the progress of this stupid compilation, I made 
 some reflections, which had never struck me before. 
 I felt the inconsistency and ridicule of a work, 
 which was only a puerile fiction. A declaration of 
 rights could be made only after the framing of the 
 constitution, and as one of its consequences; for 
 rights exist in virtue of laws, and therefore do not 
 precede them. The maxims sanctioned by this de- 
 claration ; that is to say, the principles intended to be 
 established by it, are dangerous in themselves, for 
 legislators should not be tied down to general propo- 
 sitions which they are afterwards obliged to alter or 
 modify ; — above all, they must not be cramped by 
 false maxims. Men are born free and equal! that is 
 not true. They are not born free , on the contrary, 
 they are born in a state of weakness and necessary 
 dependence. .E^^^wa/.Miow are they so? or how caw 
 they be so? if by equality is understood equality of 
 fortune, of talents, of virtue, of industry, or of rank, 
 then the falsehood is manifest. It would require 
 volumes of argument to give any reasonable meaning 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 141 
 
 to that equality proclaimed without exception. In 
 a word, my opinion against the declaration of the 
 rights of man was so strongly formed, that this time 
 it influenced that of our little committee. Mirabeau, 
 on presenting the project, even ventured to make 
 some objections to it, and proposed to defer the decla- 
 ration of rights until the constitution should be com- 
 pleted. "I can safely predict/^ said he, in his bold 
 and energetic style, <* that any declaration of rights 
 anterior to the constitution, will prove but the al- 
 manac of a single year .'" 
 
 Mirabeau, generally satisfied with a happy turn 
 of expression, never gave himself the trouble of 
 studying a subject sufficiently to be able to discuss it, 
 and patiently maintain the opinion he had advanced. 
 He seized every thing with marvellous facility, but 
 developed nothing. He wanted the practice of refu- 
 tation. This great art, so indispensable to a politi- 
 cal orator, was unknown to him. His opinion on the 
 declaration surprised the assembly, because, when the 
 question was previously discussed, he had argued in 
 favour of its necessity. The most violent reproaches 
 were addressed to him at this sudden change of senti- 
 ment. ^^What manner of man is this," cried some 
 one, "who uses his ascendency here to make the 
 assembly adopt by turns both sides of a question ? 
 Shall we condescend to be the sport of his perpe- 
 tual tergiversation ?" Mirabeau had on this occasion 
 
142 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 SO many good reasons to urge in favor of his propo- 
 sition, that he would no doubt have triumphed had he 
 known how to make use of them, but he withdrew 
 his motion at the instant when several deputies had 
 come over to his way of thinking. The eternal bab- 
 ble had then full range, and at last gave birth to the 
 unfortunate declaration of the rights of man. I have 
 now a complete refutation of it, clause by clause, 
 from the pen of a great master who has exposed, in 
 the clearest manner, the contradictions, absurdities 
 and dangers of this programme of sedition, which 
 proved alone sufficient to overthrow the constitution 
 of which it formed part. It may be compared to a 
 powder magazine placed under an edifice, which it 
 might overthrow by an explosion produced by the 
 smallest spark.* 
 
 But if the assembly wasted much time in discuss- 
 ions on the rights of man, this was amply compensa- 
 ted in the nocturnal sitting of the 4th of August. 
 Never was so much work done in so short a space of 
 time. That which would have required twelve 
 months of careful examination, was proposed, dis- 
 cussed, put to the vote, and passed by general accla- 
 mation. I know not how many laws were decreed; 
 — the abolition of feudal rights, tithes, and provincial 
 privileges — three questions embracing a whole system 
 of jurisprudence and politics — were, with ten or 
 
 * Vide Tactique des MssemhUes deliherantes, vol. 2. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 143 
 
 twelve others, disposed of in less time than the English 
 parliament would decide upon the j&rst reading of any 
 bill of consequence. The assembly resembled a 
 dying man who had made his will in a hurry ; or to 
 speak more plainly, each member gave away what 
 did not belong to him, and prided himself upon his 
 generosity at the expense of others. 
 
 I was present at this extraordinary and unexpected 
 scene, which occurred on a day when Sieyes, Mira- 
 beau and several other leading deputies were absent. 
 
 The proceedings commenced with a report on the 
 excesses in the provinces, the burning of chateaus, and 
 the bands of banditti who attacked the nobles and 
 laid waste the country. The Dukes of Aiguillon 
 and Noailles and several other members of the mi- 
 nority of the nobles, after a vivid description of the 
 disasters, declared that it was by a great act of gen- 
 erosity alone that tranquillity and confidence could 
 be restored ; that it was, therefore, time to forego 
 odious privileges, and make the people feel the bene- 
 fits of the revolution. It is impossible to describe 
 the eifervescence which burst forth in the assembly 
 at this declaration. There was no longer calmness 
 or reflection. Each came forward with a sacrifice — 
 each laid a fresh offering upon the altar of his country 
 — each despoiled himself or despoiled others. There 
 was no time taken for consideration, or for objection ; 
 a sentimental contagion seemed to drag every heart 
 
144 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 into one general torrent. This renunciation of all 
 privileges, this abandonment of so many rights bur- 
 thensome to the people, these multiplied sacrifices, 
 bore a stamp of magnanimity which covered with its 
 splendour the indecent haste and precipitation, so ill- 
 suited to legislators, with which they were made. 
 On this night I saw good and brave deputies shed 
 tears of joy on perceiving their work of political 
 regeneration advance so rapidly, and on finding them- 
 selves borne on the wings of enthusiasm even beyond 
 their most sanguine hopes. It is true that all were 
 not actuated by the same feeling. He who found 
 himself ruined by a proposition unanimously agreed 
 to, moved another from spite, and because he 
 would not suifer alone. But the assembly were not 
 in the secret of the principal movers of these mea- 
 sures, and the latter took advantage of the general 
 enthusiasm to carry their point. The renunciation 
 of the provincial privileges was made by the depu- 
 ties of the respective provinces. The deputies from 
 Brittany, who had promised to maintain theirs, were 
 much more embarrassed ; but they came forward in 
 a body and declared that they would exert their 
 utmost influence with their constituents to obtain a 
 ratification of this abandonment of their privileges. 
 This great and magnanimous measure was necessary 
 to restore political unity in a kingdom formed by a 
 successive aggregation of several smaller states, each 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 145 
 
 of which had preserved certain antiquated rights and 
 particular privileges which it was now necessary to 
 destroy? in order to form a social body susceptible of 
 receiving one general constitution. 
 
 The following day brought reflection, and with it 
 discontent. Mirabeau and Sieyes, each, however, 
 from personal motives, very strongly reprobated the 
 madness of such enthusiasm. " This is just the cha- 
 racter of our Frenchmen," said the former, '^ they 
 are three months disputing about syllables, and in a 
 single night they overturn the whole venerable edi- 
 fice of the monarchy." Sieyes was more annoyed 
 at the abolition of tithes than at all the rest. It was 
 hoped that in a subsequent sitting the most impru- 
 dent clauses of these precipitate decrees might be 
 amended ; but it was not easy to recall concessions 
 which the people already looked upon as an indispu- 
 table right. Sieyes made a speech full of force and 
 logic, in which he showed that to abolish tithes 
 without an indemnity, was spoliating the clergy to 
 enrich the land owners ; for each having purchased 
 his property with the burthen of tithes upon it, would 
 on a sudden find himself richer by one tenth part, 
 which would be a gratuitous present. This speech, 
 impossible to be refuted, he concluded with the fa- 
 mous saying : " They would be free, and know not 
 how to be just!". ..The prejudice was so strong 
 that even Sieyes was not listened to. He was looked 
 
 T 
 
146 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 upon as an ecclesiastic unable to forego his personal 
 interest, and who was paying the tribute of error to 
 his gown. A little more, and he would have been 
 hooted and hissed. I beheld him next day full of 
 bitter resentment and profound indignation against 
 the injustice and folly of the assembly, whom he never 
 pardoned. He gave vent to his irritated feelings 
 in a conversation with Mirabeau, when the latter 
 said to him : " My dear abbe, you have let loose 
 the bull and you now complain that he gores you!'^ 
 These two men had always a very contemptible 
 opinion of the national assembly. They were well 
 qualified to appreciate its faults, yet neither of them 
 granted it his esteem but on condition that his own 
 opinion should always prevail. If either was ap- 
 plauded, he discovered that the majority had good 
 sense when left to their own judgment ; if either re- 
 ceived marks of disapprobation, he then discovered 
 that the assembly was composed of fools under the 
 influence of a few seditious members. I have often 
 seen Mirabeau graduate his opinion by this kind of 
 thermometer ; and assuredly he was not the only one. 
 The contempt of Sieyes might have been thought 
 sincere, because he did not lay himself out for ap- 
 plause, and always preserved a disdainful silence; 
 but Mirabeau was infected with the speaking mania, 
 and no one could for a moment believe that he was 
 indifferent to applause. Both felt that a single 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 147 
 
 legislative assembly was insufficient, because' there 
 was nothing to controul it ; and the occurrences of the 
 4th of August proved to what extent the contagion 
 of enthusiasm and eloquence could influence its pro- 
 ceedingSj and make it adopt the most absurd mea- 
 sures. 
 
 Far from having put a stop to violence and bri- 
 gandage, the decrees of the 4th of August showed the 
 people their strength, and convinced them that the 
 most monstrous attacks upon the nobility would be 
 overlooked, if they did not even elicit a recompense. 
 I repeat, that what is granted through fear, never 
 satisfies; and they whom you think your concessions 
 will disarm, acquire tenfold confidence and audacity. 
 
148 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Soon after the discussion on the decrees of the 4th 
 of August, constitutional questions were introduced, 
 and one of the most important was that of the 
 veto. It must not be supposed that this subject 
 underwent a regular debate similar to those in the 
 English house of commons. A list of speakers for 
 and against was made out ; each appeared,- manu- 
 script in hand, and read a dissertation unconnected 
 with any thing that had been urged by preceding 
 orators. I can imagine nothing more disgustingly 
 tedious than this species of academic lecture, — the 
 reading of those heavy pamphlets teeming with repe- 
 titions and devoid of any continued chain of argu- 
 ment. The form of a debate in which each speaks 
 either to reply or attack, stimulates all the faculties 
 and keeps up the attention; but those prepared 
 speeches refuted objections which had never been 
 urged, and did not refute those which had been ur- 
 ged. The proceedings were always in the same stage ; 
 
OF MIR ABE AU. 149 
 
 each speaker opened the question as if no other 
 had preceded him, and nothing but the fanaticism 
 attendant upon public events could have resisted the 
 mortal ennui of these sittings. Mirabeau had deter- 
 mined to support the absolute veto^ considered of 
 vital importance to the monarchy ; but with regard 
 to the manner of treating this question, he had 
 placed himself under the tuition of the Marquis de 
 Caseaux, author of an unintelligible book on the me- 
 chanism of human societies, and of another entitled 
 '' Simplicity of the Idea of a Constitution" which no 
 one had been able to read or understand. I believe 
 that, for once, Mirabeau was not sorry to proceed 
 without us. He therefore concealed from us his 
 alliance with his apocalyptic friend, and merely in-r 
 formed us he was prepared and had made a few notes, 
 which he should develope in the tribune. After 
 being forced to listen to so many execrable speeches. 
 Mirabeau's appearance in the tribune delighted every 
 body; but scarcely had he begun when I recognized 
 the. style and doctrines of Caseaux. The embarrassed 
 constructions, the singularity of the words, the 
 lengthy periods and the obscurity of the reasoning, 
 soon cooled the attention of the assembly. It was at 
 length made out that he supported the absolute veto, 
 and this excited much disapprobation. Mirabeau, 
 who had scarcely looked at this trash before he left 
 home, threw himself immediately into digressions, 
 
150 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 inveighed against despotism, and by some smart 
 things, which he had always at command, obtained 
 the applause of the galleries ; but the moment he 
 reverted to his fatal manuscript, the tumult again com- 
 menced, and he had much difficulty in getting to the 
 end of his speech, although on such occasions his 
 courage never deserted him. By supporting the 
 absolute veto, Mirabeau gave great offence to the 
 popular party ; but his speech was so obscure, that 
 the galleries nCver found out what side of the ques- 
 tion he had taken, and the Palais Royal, who were 
 in a frenzy against the supporters of the absolute veto, 
 did not cease to consider Mirabeau as one of its most 
 zealous opponents. That which would have de- 
 stroyed the popularity of any other, seemed to have 
 no power over his. The cote gauche thought that 
 he had affected obscurity on this occasion in order to 
 be able to turn to any side of the question ; so that 
 the nonsense of Caseaux was imputed to a profound 
 politician, and pure machiavelism was traced in every 
 part of a writing which no one could understand. I 
 never saw Mirabeau out of countenance but this 
 once. He confessed to me that as he proceeded with 
 the manuscript, which he had not before read, he 
 felt himself in a cold perspiration ; and that he had 
 omitted one half of it without being able to substitute 
 any thing in its stead, having, in his over confidence 
 in Caseaux, neglected to study the subject. We cor- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 151 
 
 reeled this speech a little before we published it in 
 the Cuurrier de Provence; but the original fantastic 
 style and obscurity could not be entirely effaced. It 
 is thus the most important matters in legislation were 
 treated j ex ungue leonem. This was tlie first con- 
 stitutional question in which the people took a strong 
 interest; and it may be readily supposed that it was 
 a question which they little understood. The veto, 
 in their eyes, assumed every possible form — it was a 
 monster that would devour them all. I shall never 
 forget that in going to Paris with Mirabeau, either 
 on that day or the next, there were many people 
 congregated on the outside of Madame le Jay's shop, 
 waiting for him. They ran to him and conjured him, 
 with tears in their eyes, not to suffer the king to have 
 the absolute veto. ^^ Monsieur le Comte, you are 
 the father of the people; you must save us, you 
 must defend us against those who want to deliver us 
 up to despotism. If the king is to have the veto, 
 there will be no further occasion for a national as- 
 sembly ; all will be lost and we shall be slaves !" A 
 thousand such absurdities were uttered, and all pro- 
 ceeded from the most earnest dread of a thing they 
 had not the slightest idea of. On these occasions 
 Mirabeau always displayed great dignity and con- 
 descension; he managed to appease them with vague 
 answers, and dismissed them with a politeness some- 
 what patrician. 
 
152 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 Mirabeau did not vote upon the question, and 
 that is the reason why he was not upon the list, 
 taken to the Palais Royal, of those who had support- 
 ed the absolute veto. Surely this conduct was pu- 
 sillanimous, but he covered it with the mask of his 
 soi-disant contempt for the assembly. The proceed- 
 ings on this question proved the absurdity of voting 
 separately upon constitutional laws ; for it is evident 
 that they must be compared with each other to try 
 whether they perfectly coincide. The law which 
 might be very good when combined with some 
 other, might produce a very bad effect if taken 
 alone. Nothing but presumption and inexperience 
 could have induced the national assembly to proceed 
 in any other way, and daily issue unconnected con- 
 stitutional decrees, without having previously deter- 
 mined upon the plan of a constitution, so as to have 
 a whole before them. In the veto, for instance ; — 
 before they decided upon the question, they should 
 have determined whether the legislation were to 
 consist of two chambers or of only one. The settle- 
 ment of the latter point was an indispensable prelim- 
 inary; for if the legislature were not divided, the 
 absolute veto became positively necessary to prevent 
 the single chamber from usurping the supreme 
 power. At the same time, the king would have 
 been too weak to exercise the absolute veto against 
 the strong and unanimous wish of the national a«sem- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 153 
 
 bly. It would not be good policy in a sovereign, 
 under such circumstances, to oppose the wish of the 
 whole nation. If the legislature were divided into 
 two sections, then the absolute veto would become 
 less necessary, because there was not even a proba- 
 bility that the two sections would go hand in hand 
 upon every question. One might, therefore, oppose 
 the other. Thus the decision of one question de- 
 pending upon another, both ought to be considered 
 in coming to a conclusion. The greatest fault the 
 assembly committed, was to work upon detached 
 parts ; for thus it is that an irregular edifice was con- 
 structed without proportion or correctness. Some 
 parts were too strong, others too weak. There 
 were incoherent masses which could not sustain the 
 slightest shock, a gigantic elevation, and foundations 
 which gave way under the weight of the fabric. 
 But these defects originated in an extreme ambition 
 to shine, and in an eager anxiety, in making a motion, 
 to anticipate that of some other member. There 
 was nothing concerted, nothing prepared. Each de- 
 lighted in pilfering the propositions of another, in 
 smuggling in an article out of its place, and in sur- 
 prising the assembly by something unexpected. A 
 constitution committee had been appointed, but this 
 committee, a prey to jealousy and quarrels, could 
 come to no understanding, nor direct their labours 
 to a common object. It was a miniature likeness of 
 u ■ 
 
154 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 the assembly ; composed of the same elements^ the 
 same prejudices, the same desire of shining exclu- 
 sively and the same struggle of self-love. Each, in 
 short, took upon himself to introduce matters accord- 
 ing to his own judgment, and often for no earthly 
 reason than to be beforehand with the others. Study 
 and meditation were foreign to the habits of the as- 
 sembly ; its decrees were passed almost at the sword's 
 point, and the most fiery passions had neither truce 
 nor interval. After having overthrown every thing 
 that existed, all must be reconstructed at once ; and 
 so high an opinion had the assembly of their own 
 powers, that they would willingly have undertaken 
 to frame a code for all nations. Historians will say 
 enough about the misfortunes of the revolution, but 
 it would be not less essential to denounce the primi- 
 tive faults which led to these misfortunes ; to go still 
 further back, — the composition of the assembly 
 ought to be examined, and particularly the circum- 
 stances in which originated the mistrust, the struggle 
 between the orders, the victory of the commons and 
 the degradation of the royal authority. 
 
 The most leading trait in the French character is 
 self-vanity. Each member of the assembly thought 
 himself equal to any undertaking. Never were 
 seen so many men congregated together, who fancied 
 themselves legislators, capable of repairing the faults 
 of the past, finding a remedy for all the errors of the 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 155 
 
 human mind, and securing the happiness of future 
 generations. Doubt of their own powers never once 
 found its way into their bosoms, and infallibility 
 always presided over their decisions. In vain did a 
 strong minority accuse them, and protest against 
 their measures ; the more they were attacked, the 
 more were they satisfied with their own transcendent 
 wisdom. When the king presumed to transmit to 
 them some mild remonstrances upon the decrees of 
 the 4th of August and the declaration of rights, they 
 were surprised that ministers should dare to criticise 
 their proceedings, and M. Necker, who was the au- 
 thor of the criticisms, began from that moment to 
 lose his influence among them. 
 
 I have been able to compare the English and 
 French of the same rank in life, and I have attended 
 assiduously the sittings of the English parliament and 
 those of the national assembly. There is no point 
 of opposition in the character of the two nations 
 more striking than the reserve, approaching timidity, 
 of the Englishman, and the confidence in himself 
 displayed by the Frenchman. I often used to think 
 that if a hundred persons indiscriminately were stop- 
 ped in the streets of London, and the same number 
 in the streets of Paris, and a proposal made to each 
 individual to undertake the government of his coun- 
 try, ninety-nine would accept the oifer at Paris and 
 ninety-nine refuse it in London. 
 
156 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 Few of the speeches made in the assembly were 
 written by the parties who uttered them. A French- 
 man made no scruple of using the composition of 
 another, and acquiring honour by a species of public 
 imposture. No Englishman of character would con- 
 sent to play such a part. A Frenchman would put 
 himself forward and make any motion suggested to 
 him, without once troubling himself about the conse- 
 quences; whilst an Englishman would be afraid of 
 exposing himself, if he had not sufficiently studied his 
 subject to be able to answer every reasonable objec- 
 tion, and support the opinion he had advanced. A 
 Frenchman affirms upon very light grounds ; an 
 assertion costs him nothing ;— an Englishman is in no 
 haste to believe, and before he publicly advances a 
 fact, he traces it to its source, weighs his authorities, 
 and makes himself master of particulars. A French- 
 man believes that with a little wit he can stem a tor- 
 rent of difficulties. He is ready to undertake things 
 the most foreign to his habits and studies, and it was 
 thus that Mirabeau got himself appointed reporter to 
 the committee of mines, without having the slightest 
 knowledge concerning mines. An Englishman would 
 expose himself to eternal ridicule if he dared to 
 invade a department of which he knew nothing ; 
 and he is more disposed to refuse undertaking that 
 which he is able to perform, than to be ambitious of 
 doing what he knows to be beyond his powers. The 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 157 
 
 Frenchman believes that wit supplies the place of 
 every thing ; the Englishman is persuaded that no- 
 thing can be properly done without both knowledge 
 and practice. A French gentleman being asked if 
 he could play upon the harpsichord, replied, "I 
 do not know, for I never tried ; but I will go and 
 see." Now this is badinage, but make it serious ; — 
 for harpsichord substitute government, and for music 
 legislation, and, instead of one French gentleman you 
 would find twelve hundred. 
 
 Romilly had written a very interesting work upon 
 the regulations observed in the English house of com- 
 mons. These regulations are the fruit of long and 
 closely reasoned experience ; and the more they are 
 examined, the more worthy are they found of admi- 
 ration. They are rigorously enforced in an assembly 
 extremely jealous of innovation ; and as they are not 
 written, it required much pains and labour to collect 
 them. This little code indicated the best manner of 
 putting questions, preparing motions, discussing 
 them, telling the votes, appointing committees, — of 
 carrying on, in short, all the proceedings of a political 
 assembly. At the commencement of the meeting of 
 the states-general, I translated this work. Mirabeau 
 presented it, and deposited it upon the bureau of the 
 commons, at the time when it was in contemplation to 
 draw up a set of regulations for the national assembly. 
 "We are not English, and we want nothing English !" 
 
158 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 was the reply. This translation of Romilly's work, 
 although printed, was not taken the least notice of; 
 nor did any member ever condescend to inquire how 
 matters were conducted in so celebrated an assembly 
 as the British parliament. The national vanity was 
 wounded at the idea of borrowing the wisdom of any 
 other people, and they preferred maintaining their 
 own defective and dangerous mode of conducting 
 their proceedings, of which the sitting of the 4th of 
 August was a painful illustration. 
 
 When Brissot talked about constitution, his fami- 
 liar phrase was, ^^That is what lost England." 
 Sieyes, Dupont, Condorcet, and many others with 
 whom I was acquainted, were precisely of the same 
 way of thinking. " How !'' once replied Duroverai, 
 feigning astonishment, "is England lost?" when did 
 you receive the news, and in what latitude was she 
 lost?" The laugh was against Brissot ; and Mira- 
 beau, who was then writing one of his speeches 
 against Mounier, attributed to the latter Brissot's 
 stupid saying, in order to have the pleasure of ma- 
 king him the object of Duroverai's bon mot. Mou- 
 nier complained of this in his first pamphlet, wherein 
 he points out Mirabeau's mistatements relative to a 
 sitting of which he professed to give a faithful account. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 159 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I HAVE not many recollections of the month of Sep- 
 tember. During that period I met at Mirabeau's 
 two men of very different characters. The first was 
 Camille Desmoulins, who signed several of his writings 
 as the attorney- general of the lantern. It must not, 
 however, be imagined that he excited the people to 
 use the lantern posts in the stead of gallows, an 
 abomination attributed to him by M. Bertrand de 
 Molleville ; — quite the reverse, he pointed out the 
 danger and injustice of such summary executions, but 
 in a tone of lightness and badinage by no means in 
 keeping with so serious a subject. Camille appeared 
 to me what is called a good fellow ; of rather exag- 
 gerated feelings, devoid of reflection or judgment, 
 as ignorant as he was unthinking, not deficient in wit, 
 but in politics possessing not even the first elements 
 of reason. Walking with him one day, I gave him 
 some explanations on the constitution of England, of 
 which he had been talking with the most profound 
 
160 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 ignorance of the subject. Three years afterwards, 
 Camille, who had become a great man, by means of 
 his jacobinism and his intimacy with Robespierre, 
 and had cultivated his talents, wrote a work, in which, 
 giving an account of his own life since the beginning 
 of the revolution, he condescended, en passant, to 
 give me a kindly recollection by representing me as 
 an emissary of Pitt placed near Mirabeau to mislead 
 him, and as preaching the English constitution at 
 Versailles. I never read this work, but have been 
 told that it was clever, Camille being one of those 
 whom circumstances have led to acquire talents. 
 
 The other person whom I met at Mirabeau's was 
 La Clos, the author of the Liaisons Dangereuses, 
 This individual, belonging to the household of the 
 Duke of Orleans, was witty though sombre, taciturn 
 and reserved'; with the face and look of a conspirator, 
 he was so cold and distant, that although I met him 
 several times, I scarcely ever spoke to him. I knew 
 not his object in visiting Mirabeau. The events of 
 the 5th and 6th of July have been attributed to the 
 Duke of Orleans, and Mirabeau was implicated in 
 the conspiracy. The national assembly decreed 
 that there was no ground of accusation against either. 
 But the acquittal of the assembly is not the verdict 
 of history, and many doubts require still to be solved 
 before a correct judgment can be formed. Notwith- 
 standing my intimacy with Mirabeau at this period, 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 161 
 
 he never let me into the secret of his having formed 
 any connection with the Duke of Orleans. If then 
 such a fact be true, I am not aware of it. In my 
 recollections of the most minute circumstances, 
 which could not fail to betray a man so confiding and 
 imprudent as Mirabeau, I find not the slightest 
 ground for supposing him an accomplice in the pro- 
 ject against the court. It is true, nevertheless, that 
 his intimacy with La Clos might indicate some inten- 
 tion on the part of the duke to negotiate with him 
 for his services. Mirabeau sometimes visited Mon- 
 trouge, and once or twice, I believe, met the duke 
 there ; but it cannot be inferred from this that they 
 conspired together. I remember hearing him speak 
 somewhat favourably of this prince, that is to say of 
 his natural talents ; for in morals he said that nothing 
 must be imputed to the duke, who had lost his taste, 
 and could not therefore distinguish good from evil. 
 About the same time, Mirabeau said to Duroverai 
 and me, ^^I am quite astonished at finding myself a 
 philosopher, because I was born to be an adventurer. 
 But, who knows? They are going to tear the king- 
 dom to pieces; I have some interest in Provence . . . ." 
 Duroverai interrupted him with a laugh. " Ah ! he 
 already thinks himself Count of Provence." — 
 ^^Well," replied Mirabeau, /^ many have risen from 
 smaller beginnings." All this was but the result of 
 
 V 
 
162 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 high animal spirits, and his fervent imagination anti" 
 cipated nothing but ruin and overthrow. 
 
 The only cireumstance I know to his disadvantage, 
 was his preparing a work which he concealed from 
 us. When the assembly quitted Versailles, to meet 
 at Paris, Duroverai and I having called at Mira- 
 beau's, who was already gone, to collect some papers 
 which concerned us jointly, le Jay arrived in a trav- 
 elling dress, and had a van at the door. He seemed 
 much agitated, and had some difficulty in making us 
 comprehend the cause. He had been somewhere to 
 fetch the edition of a book which had been printed 
 clandestinely, ought to have arrived a week sooner, 
 and which he was now afraid of taking to Paris. 
 " What edition ? What book ? What is it about?" 
 — " Why," replied le Jay, ^^ it is the book against 
 royalty." — " Against royalty, pray bring us a copy." 
 It was a small volume, with a preface by Mirabeau, 
 and the name of the author. I do not remember 
 the precise title, but I think it was '^ On Royalty,^ 
 extracted from MiltonP It was an abridgement or 
 translation from Milton. Detached passages had 
 been united, and a complete body of doctrine formed 
 from the republican writings of the great English 
 poet. I recollect seeing Mirabeau occupied about 
 this translation with his friend Servan, governor of 
 the pages, who, like all the inhabitants of Versailles, 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 163 
 
 •was hostile to the court. Servan was afterwards 
 minister of war. After the events of the 5th and 
 6th of October, such a publication by a member of 
 the national assembly was not only a libel, but an act 
 of high treason. We were the more annoyed at 
 this conduct, because the first suspicions of Mira- 
 beau's intimate acquaintances would have fallen 
 upon us, as being naturally inclined to republican- 
 ism, and being, moreover, familiar with the English 
 language. ^ But independently of our own feelings, 
 Mirabeau's situation was calculated to alarm us dread- 
 fully. Duroverai put le Jay into such a fright that 
 he already fancied himself in the Chatelet or La 
 Tournelle. He consented to every thing we pro- 
 posed, and we brought the whole edition into the 
 house, and burned it the same day. Le Jay saved 
 about a dozen copies. This expedition over, he re- 
 turned to Paris, and gave an account to his wife of 
 the dangers he had incurred, together with the man- 
 ner in which we had got him out of the scrape. 
 Madame le Jay, who had placed great dependence 
 upon this libel, fell upon the poor husband, called 
 him a fool, and made him feel at the same time 
 her double superiority in strength and intelligence. 
 She next went to Mirabeau, and denounced Durov- 
 erai ; but Mirabeau had too much sense not to per- 
 ceive that the book would have proved his ruin, had 
 it been published. All he wanted v/as to keep it in 
 
164 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 reserve against a future favourable opportunity ; but 
 he had behaved too ill in the business to dare to re- 
 proach us with the loss of a few thousand francs, 
 I confess that on reflecting since upon this affair, the 
 time at which it occurred — the delay of the edition, 
 and the week earlier when it ought to have arrived — 
 le Jay's journey to fetch it, and the secrecy which he 
 was enjoined to preserve — I am sometimes tempted 
 to think that the work w^as associated with some im- 
 portant events, and that Mirabeau was iw the secret 
 of the occurrences of the 5th and 6th of October. 
 But on the other hand, I know that this compilation 
 was begun long before, and that Mirabeau's rage for 
 publishing was so great that it often got the better of 
 all prudential considerations. The best conclusion 
 at which I can arrive, after deliberately weighing 
 every circumstance, is that, taking it for granted 
 that the insurrection of Versailles was conducted by 
 the Duke of Orleans, La Clos was too able a tactician 
 to place the whole affair at Mirabeau's discretion, 
 but had engaged him conditionally with only a partial 
 confidence, and left a wide loop-hole to creep out at. 
 It is impossible not to think that there was some con- 
 nexion between them. <^^ Instead of a glass of brandy, 
 a bottle was given." This is the figure by which 
 Mirabeau explained the movement of Paris, upon 
 Versailles. I presume that if the king had fled, 
 Mirabeau v^ould have proclaimed the duke of Or- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 165 
 
 kans lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and would 
 have become his prime minister. Such a scheme 
 might easily find place in a brain like Mirabeau's, 
 and his subsequent anger against the Duke of Orleans 
 might lead to the idea that he had been deceived in 
 his expectations. M. de Lafayette is perhaps ac- 
 quainted with the secret of these events, originating, 
 perhaps, in the spontaneous rising of the people, ex- 
 cited by a dread of famine which had, for the time 
 being, produced a real famine. 
 
 I w^as at Versailles, and saw part of what passed. 
 But I know nothing in particular, neither did I see 
 any thing that could characterise either a settled 
 plan or a conspiracy. I can even say that when the 
 event occurred, it was not explained in the same 
 manner as it has since been. The people attributed 
 the dearth to the aristocracy. The aristocrats, they 
 said, destroyed the corn before it reached maturity, 
 paid the bakers not to work, suspended trade, and 
 threw the flour into the rivers ; — in short, there was 
 no absurdity too gross to appear improbable. The 
 popular journals did not cease to circulate the gross- 
 est falsehoods. The arrival of a new regiment at 
 Versailles had renewed the public alarm. The fete 
 which had been given at the palace to the ojficers, 
 was inconceivably imprudent. It could not be term- 
 ed a conspiracy, because people do not conspire at 
 • a public banquet of five hundred persons ; but seve- 
 
166 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 ral anti-popular songs were sung, the national cockade 
 insulted, the infant dauphin led about, and the 
 king and queen, yielding to the enjoyment of these 
 testimonies of affection, increased, by their presence, 
 the general enthusiasm. At any other period, it 
 would not have been imputed as a crime, that the 
 young officers of the king's guard should become 
 animated at a banquet, and display their affection 
 for the royal family. The cloud which hung over 
 this unhappy family, and the misfortunes which 
 threatened them, were a fresh stimulus to the feelings 
 of chivalrous honour which pervaded the bosoms of 
 these young nobles, devoted, by profession, to the 
 defence of their sovereign. But when the particu- 
 lars of this banquet were made public, with every 
 possible exaggeration, it was construed into an in- 
 tention of rendering the revolution odious, and of 
 forming a fresh league for the king's defence, and 
 was therefore denounced in the assembly as evidence 
 of a court conspiracy against the people. The cote 
 droit was furious, and inveighed against the calumny. 
 Mirabeau, whom Servan had excited, threw himself 
 into the midst of the tumult, and declared that he 
 was ready to name the principal author in the im- 
 pious fete, provided it were decreed beforehand 
 that the king's person was sacred and inviolable. 
 This single expression, which cast a direct accusa- 
 tion upon the queen, threw the cote droit into con- ' 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 167 
 
 sternation, and made the democrats themselves fear 
 that they had gone too far. 
 
 If, on this occasion, Mirabeau had adopted the 
 most generous line of policy, and opposed the popu- 
 lar rage, it would have been easy to give another 
 colour to this circumstance, and place those testimo- 
 nies of affection for the king in a favourable point of 
 view. He might have openly complained of its being 
 supposed that the entire assembly did not participate 
 in these marks of affection, and have proposed a sim- 
 ilar fete, at which the king should appear surrounded 
 by all the representatives of France. He might, at 
 the same time, have asked for the removal of the 
 regiment of Flanders, whose presence was unneces- 
 sary. But it must be admitted that this assembly, 
 though very prodigal of their expressions of attach- 
 ment to the king, had never yet shown it by any 
 tangible act. 
 
 The dearth which kept the people in a state of 
 effervescence, and the banquet scene at the chateau 
 appeared, at the time, sufficient to account for the 
 insurrection at Paris, and the invasion at Versailles. 
 
 It was not till afterwards that a plot was imagined 
 and attributed to the duke of Orleans. This suspi- 
 cion acquired consistency when it was known that 
 M. de Lafayette had insisted upon the duke leaving 
 Paris and proceeding to England. The secret of 
 this intrigue has never transpired, but I recollect that 
 
168 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 two years after, in a confidential conversation with 
 M. de Talleyrand, bishop of Autun, that prelate ut- 
 tered these remarkable words : " The Duke of Or- 
 leans is the slop-pail into which is thrown all the 
 filth of the revolution /" 
 
 The following, so far as my recollection serves me^ 
 was Mirabeau's conduct during these two days. On 
 the fifth, we dined with M. Servan, in the palace 
 called les Petites-Ecuries, in which, as governor of 
 the pages, he had apartments. We could see from 
 the windows opening upon the great square, the ar- 
 rival of the Parisian multitudes, including the pois- 
 sardes or fish women, and the market porters. This 
 crowd demanded nothing but bread. The regiment 
 of Flanders and the national guard were drawn up 
 outside the external enclosure of the chateau. The 
 king's guards, both cavalry and infantry, were formed 
 within the great and lesser courts. There was a 
 tumultuous movement among the crowd, the cause 
 of which we could not well distinguish. Mirabeau 
 was not long with us ; nay, I have an idea that he 
 did not stay to dinner. Though the crowd was 
 great, and there was no knowing what might happen, 
 we walked about every where. We saw the king's 
 carriages go off through unfrequented streets, and 
 thought they were conveying the royal family to a 
 place of safety. Tired of wandering, I went to the 
 assembly at about eight o'clock in the evening. The 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 169 
 
 hall presented a curious spectacle. It had been 
 invaded by the people from Paris, and was quite full 
 of them. The galleries were crowded with women 
 and men armed with halberts, bludgeons and pikes. 
 The sitting was suspended, but a message came from 
 the king, calling upon the president to resume it, 
 and send a deputation to the chateau. I went to 
 Mirabeau, whom I found in bed, although it was not 
 eleven o'clock. He rose, and we returned to the 
 assembly. When we arrived, the president was ex- 
 hausting his strength in a fruitless endeavour to obtain 
 silence. Mirabeau immediately raised his voice, and 
 called upon the president to make the assembly 
 respected, and order the strangers in the hall to quit 
 the members' benches, which they had invaded. 
 It required all Mirabeau's popularity to succeed. 
 By degrees the populace withdrew, and the deputies 
 began to discuss some clauses of the penal code. In 
 the gallery in which I was sitting, there was a pois- 
 sarde who assumed superior authority, and directed 
 the motions of about a hundred women, awaiting her 
 orders to make a noise or be silent. She called 
 familiarly to the deputies, and said, '^ Who is speak- 
 ing yonder? Make that babbler hold his tongue! 
 We do not want his speechifying ; we want bread ! 
 Let our little mother Mirabeau speak ; we should 
 like to hear him!" Our little mother Mirabeau be- 
 came the cry of the whole band ; but Mirabeau was 
 w 
 
170 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 not a man to show off on such occasions, and his pop- 
 ularity never made him lose sight of his dignity. 
 
 About midnight, an aide-de-camp announced the 
 arrival of M. de Lafayette, at the head of the national 
 guard of Paris, and every one now thought himself 
 safe. The soldiers of the national gUard had re- 
 newed their oath of fidelity to the law and the king, 
 and the multitude, on being made acquainted with 
 the king's assurances, became calmer. About two 
 in the morning, we left the assembly, which was still 
 sitting. On awaking some hours after, a confused 
 account was given me of what had occurred ; of the 
 invasion of the chateau, and the disarming of the 
 guards. These events were then attributed to mis- 
 understandings, imprudences and chance quarrels. 
 Mirabeau went early to the assembly, and I was in- 
 formed that he opposed a compliance with the king's 
 desire of removing the assembly to the chateau, as 
 the only means of keeping the multitude in cheek. 
 The pretended dignity, which he put forward as a 
 reason for sending only a deputation, certainly ap- 
 peared suspicious. Was that a time to consult eti- 
 quette ? Was there a duty more imperious than that 
 of forming a living rampart around the monarch in 
 danger? Certain it is, that had a conspiracy against 
 the king really existed, and Mirabeau been an ac- 
 complice, he could not have behaved otherwise than 
 he did. But, on the other hand, how happened it. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 171 
 
 that the assembly, who surely were not in the plot, 
 all so instantly concurred in bis opinion ? This is a 
 reason for believing that he had only taken advan- 
 tage of the general feeling, and that his motion was 
 not premeditated. There was, at this time, a marked 
 opposition between the court and the national assem- 
 bly, because the king had given but a half sanction 
 to the declaration of the rights of man, and to the 
 explanatory decrees of the 4th of August. The as- 
 sembly was mean enough, on this occasion, to take 
 advantage of the disorder, and call upon the king 
 for his full and unqualified consent ; just as if his 
 refusal had been one of the causes of the insurrec- 
 tion. Mounier presided on that day ;— Mirabeau 
 was very jealous of him, and had, perhaps, no other 
 motive, even without being conscious of it, than a 
 desire to get the better of Mounier, and injure him, 
 by representing his opinions as derogatory from the 
 national dignity. I did not, at the time, make these 
 reflections, because, such was the rapidity of 
 events, that one impression was soon effaced by 
 another. 
 
 Several deputies, against whom the fury of the 
 populace had been excited, took to flight ; and hav- 
 ing no hope from a revolution eff'ected by such means, 
 they dared not return to Paris, but abandoned their 
 post. Lally-Tolendal and Mounier were among the 
 number. There were fifty-five or fifty-six. This 
 
172 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 desertion was not justifiable. But, on taking into 
 consideration the violence they had suffered, it would 
 be but fair, prior to accusing them of cowardice, that 
 we should ourselves have suffered, for a time, the 
 same outrages. I never met Mounier but once, and 
 I was present at a conversation between him and 
 Mirabeau, at the house of a painter. Mounier's 
 account of this conversation is quite correct. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 173 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 I DID not before allude to Mirabeau's celebrated 
 speech on the national bankruptcy, because I wished, 
 under the same head, to add a few further observa- 
 tions. 
 
 Mirabeau was not well acquainted with the subject, 
 although he had published several papers on it, such 
 as ^^ The Bank of St Charles,^^ " The Denuncia- 
 tion of Stock-jobbing,'^^ &c. But he had two able 
 coadjutors in Panchaud and Claviere, the former of 
 whom said, that Mirabeau was the first man in the 
 world to speak on a question he knew nothing about. 
 A ready conception, and the happiest expressions 
 enabled him easily to lead artificial minds astray. 
 When, from the effects of the revolution, the public 
 revenue was considerably diminished, and the taxes 
 of scarcely any value, M. Necker, unable to keep in 
 motion an immense machine, whose moving power 
 was almost annihilated, proposed to the assembly a 
 loan, to which he had endeavoured to give a very 
 
174 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 seductive form. He wanted, for this purpose, to 
 make use of the credit of the caisse d^escompte. 
 Claviere, who, I believe, had some feeling of perso- 
 nal hostility towards the company of the caisse d^es- 
 compte, engaged Mirabeau to oppose the measure. 
 The assembly attempted to organise the loan, and 
 proceeded with as little intelligence as on many other 
 occasions. The consequence was, that the measure 
 was unsuccessful, and the national credit, about which 
 so much had been said, became worse than useless. 
 M. Necker was soon after forced to present another 
 project, a species of patriotic loan, somewhat resem- 
 bling an income tax. This time, Mirabeau deter- 
 mined to support the minister, to whom, however, 
 he was personally hostile. There had been no inter- 
 course between them ; for the intimacy which Du- 
 roverai and Mallouet had attempted to bring about, 
 had failed. Some persons suspected, that Mira- 
 beau's support was given, in order to fix upon Necker 
 the responsibility of the certain failure of the plan. 
 Several stupid members, who thought that the assem- 
 bly would be wanting in dignity, if it adopted min- 
 isterial measures without altering something in them, 
 proposed several modifications. Mirabeau was of 
 opinion, that the plan required no alteration, and 
 ergerly pressed the assembly to adopt it as it was. 
 His principal argument was, the ill success of the 
 last project of loan, which the friends of the minister 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 175 
 
 attributed to the assembly, who, by ill-judged 
 modifications; had altered its nature. Thence pro- 
 ceeding to remark upon the dangerous state of pub- 
 lic credit, and the failure of the revenue, he repre- 
 sented a national bankruptcy, as the probable conse- 
 quence of the rejection of this plan. The force with 
 which he presented so commonplace a subject, was 
 miraculous ; he elevated it to sublimity. Those who 
 heard this speech will never forget it; it excited 
 every gradation of terror, and a devouring gulph, 
 with the groans of the victims it swallowed, of which 
 the orator gave a very appalling description, seemed 
 pictured to the senses of the audience. 
 
 The triumph was complete ; not an attempt was 
 made to reply. The assembly were subjugated by 
 that power of a superior and energetic mind, which 
 acts upon the multitude, as if it were only a single 
 individual, and the project was adopted without a 
 dissenting voice. From that day, Mirabeau was 
 considered as a being superior to other men. He 
 had no rival. There were, indeed, other orators, 
 but he alone was eloquent ; and this impression was 
 stronger, because, in his speech on this question, he 
 was obliged to depend entirely upon his own resour- 
 ces ; for it was an unexpected reply, and could not, 
 therefore, have been prepared.* 
 
 * This^s the passage in Mirabeau's reply, to which M. Du- 
 
176 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 Mole, the celebrated actor at the Theatre Fran- 
 pais, was present. The force and dramatic eifect of 
 Mirabeau's eloquence, and the sublimity of his voice, 
 had made a deep impression upon this distinguished 
 comedian, who, with visible emotion, approached 
 
 mont alludes : " Oh ! if less solemn declarations did not insure 
 our respect for public faith, and our horror of the infamous word 
 bankruptcy, 1 would search into the secret motives, unknown, 
 perhaps, to ourselves, which make us draw back at the very 
 instant we are called upon to consummate a great sacrificej — 
 inefficacious, it is true, unless it be sincere ; — and I would say 
 to those who, from the fear of sacrifices and the dread of taxes, 
 are, perhaps, familiarizing their minds with the idea of not 
 keeping faith with the public creditor : — What is such a bank- 
 ruptcy itself, but the most cruel, the most iniquitous, the most 
 unequal, and the most ruinous of taxes ?— My friends, listen 
 to a word-— a single word! — Two centuries of depredations and 
 robbery have dug the gulph into which the kingdom is about 
 to fall. This horrible gulph must be filled up ! But how ? 
 There is but one way. Here is a list of rich men in France. 
 Choose from among the richest, in order that you may sacrifice 
 fewer citizens ; — but choose, at all events, for must not the 
 smaller number perish to save the great mass of the people ? 
 Well ! these two thousand rich men are possessed of sufficient 
 wealth to make up the deficiency. Restore order to your finan- 
 ces, peace and prosperity to the country; — strike, immolate your 
 victims without pity ; precipitate them into the abyss, and it will 
 close. . . What, do you draw back horror-struck, ye inconsistent, 
 ye pusillanimous men ! Well, then, do you not perceive, &c. 
 &c." — Note by the Genevese Editor. • 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 177 
 
 the ouator to offer his compliments. ^' Ah I Monsieur 
 le Comte,'' said he in a pathetic tone of voice, 
 " what a speech! and with what an accent did you 
 deliver it ! Yon have surely missed your vocation !" 
 Mole smiled on perceiving the singularity of the 
 compliment which his dramatic enthusiasm had led 
 him to utter, but Mirabeau was much flattered by it. 
 Some days after, in the beginning of October, the 
 King being already at Paris, it was determined to 
 press this ministerial measure by an address from the 
 national assembly to the nation. Mirabeau was re- 
 quested to write this address, and he transferred the 
 task to me. I undertook it with more readiness, 
 because I was still of opinion that a solemn address, 
 supported by authority, might yet serve as a vehicle 
 for important truths, I had no desire to palliate the 
 excesses of the revolution, but wished, on the con- 
 trary, to prove, in the strongest manner possible, 
 that the nation would be lost if it were misled any 
 longer by wrong notions of liberty, whose mask 
 licentiousness had assumed to render her odious. 
 This composition was not so rapid as the address to 
 the king, because the subject was more complicated 
 and delicate ; for great caution was requisite not to 
 offend the assembly itself, whose ears were irritable 
 as those of a despot, and who took umbrage at the 
 most indirect reproach. I devoted three days to 
 this work, which was well received, but produced 
 
 X 
 
178 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 upon the nation just about as much effect as a sermon 
 upon a congregation. Scarcely had it been applau- 
 ded, when it was already forgotten. I found among 
 my papers the original of this address almost in the 
 same state as when I gave it to Mirabeau; there 
 being only two or three slight alterations made by 
 the committee appointed to draw it up.* 
 
 Soon after this occurrence, Duroverai communi- 
 cated to me a proposal made him by M. Delessert a 
 banker of Paris, that we should accept a sum of mo- 
 ney as a testimony of gratitude for the services we 
 had rendered in supporting M. Necker's project; 
 for our influence over Mirabeau was well known; 
 and my contributions to several of his speeches, to- 
 gether with the hand I had in framing the address 
 to the nation, were at least suspected. M. Delessert 
 spoke in the name of several bankers, and offered a 
 hundred louis d'or as his share of the contribution. 
 Duroverai had neither accepted nor refused, but 
 said he would mention the matter to me. I was very 
 angry that he had not immediately declined the offer 
 of these gentlemen, in the strongest terms, as he 
 certainly would have done had it preceded instead 
 of following the service. We had not acted in the 
 matter with any view to their advantage — they, 
 therefore, owed us nothing ; and I could not but 
 
 * Vide Appendix, No. 3, 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 179 
 
 perceive a bribe in disguise, in this pretended 
 <iisplay of gratitude. A gift which cannot be loudly 
 avowed and publicly proclaimed — a gift, in short, 
 that will not bear the light of day, stamps itself as 
 illicit and conveys a pledge of venality. The simple 
 suspicion of personal interest appeared to me so dis- 
 graceful, that Duroverai had much difficulty in convin- 
 cing me that there was no insult in M. Delessert's offer. 
 The answer was dictated by these feelings ; — for it is 
 clear that this was an attempt upon our delicacy, 
 and not a very indirect one. I soon forgot the mat- 
 ter, and never took the trouble to mention it to M. 
 Delessert. 
 
 When the assembly was transferred to Paris, and 
 met at the archbishop's palace, I prevailed upon 
 Mirabeau to move a vote of thanks to M. Bailly and 
 M. de Lafayette, and I composed a speech for him 
 in which I pointed out the difficulties which, amid 
 these political hurricanes, they had to encounter as 
 public men. As he had always been envious of their 
 popularity, this proposal displeased him at first ; but 
 I well knew that he would not resist the temptation 
 of being thought the author of a motion, written in 
 a style that flattered him. The maire and comman- 
 dant of Paris were the more flattered at this, because 
 it was unexpected, and I had the satisfaction of bring- 
 ing together, at least for some days, men whose union 
 appeared to me advantageous to the country. Jea- 
 
180 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 lousy, hatred, and malevolence were the plagues 
 which seemed to have attached themselves to the 
 principal actors in the revolution. Could the latter 
 have been brought to act in concert, they would have 
 imparted a uniform motion both to the assembly and 
 to the "nation. But my hopes in this respect were 
 the illusions of inexperience. No power but that of 
 a government can suspend individual passions, and 
 give them an impulsion towards a common object. 
 In weak administrations, a thousand contending cur- 
 rents are formed, and each candidate for public 
 favour, desirous of feathering his own nest, hates his 
 fellows because he considers them rivals, and they 
 thus mutually weaken each other until, at length, 
 they all fall under the domination of one. 
 
 Lafayette was now in the meridian of his power. 
 He was master of the chateau, and the national guard 
 were wholly attached to him. But he bore his ho- 
 nours meekly, his intentions were pure and his per- 
 sonal character elicited general esteem. His house, 
 under the direction of his virtuous and religious wife, 
 was distinguished by that decorum of manners which 
 the French nobles had too much neglected. I was 
 invited by him to dinner to meet Mirabeau, M. de 
 la Rochefoucauld, M. de Liancourt, and many others. 
 I was in the full enjoyment of a reconciliation which 
 I had brought about, without any one suspecting my 
 share in the business. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 181 
 
 As far as I can remember, a scheme for bringing 
 Mirabeau into office was talked of, about this period. 
 There were conferences and negotiations on the sub- 
 ject. M. Necker had almost agreed to it — the king 
 was about to consent — but there was a sine qua non 
 of Mirabeau's, which was that he should remain 
 member of the assembly, without which he felt that 
 his taking-office would prove his destruction without 
 advantage to the public cause. A suspicion of this 
 project seemed to exist in the assembly. Perhaps it 
 arose from secret treachery, or may be, simple indis- 
 cretion. Be that as it may, whilst the negotiation 
 was still pending, Lameth, or Noailles, or Dupont, 
 or some one of that party, moved that no member 
 should accept an office in the executive, nor a king's 
 minister sit in the assembly. Mirabeau opposed the 
 motion in vain. Duroverai, I think, wrote a very 
 powerful speech for him on this occasion. The votes 
 were nearly equal, but the motion was carried by a 
 feeble majority. An appeal to the usage in the En- 
 glish parliament, instead of telling against the motion, 
 was instrumental to its success. The least idea of 
 imitation offended the pride of the innovators, who 
 pretended to establish a monarchical form of govern- 
 ment without preserving a single element of monar- 
 chy. Mirabeau's exasperation may easily be ima- 
 gined, when he found his ambitious hopes overthrown 
 by this motion of the Lameths and their party. 
 
182 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 In the constitution-committee, Sieyes had made 
 two proposals which were rejected, and which, ac- 
 cording to custom, he had not taken the least trouble 
 to get accepted. One was a/« civic inscription, to 
 admit young men, with a certain degree of solemnity, 
 into the body of active citizens. I liked this idea, 
 not as a great legislative measure, but as a means of 
 inspection and education for youth. I wrote a short 
 speech upon it, which Mirabeau pronounced at the 
 assembly, and the proposal was unanimously adopted. 
 Sieyes was delighted at the humiliation of the com- 
 mittee. He was much pleased with Mirabeau, and 
 still more so with me. It was not a difficult matter 
 for him to guess my share in the business; for, after 
 the rejection of the proposal by the committee, he 
 had mentioned it in a conversation at the house of 
 the Bishop of Chartres, and I had expressed my 
 opinion on the subject. 
 
 The other proposal, which I likewise treated with 
 the same success, has escaped my memory, but I shall 
 find it in looking over the numbers of the Courrier 
 de Provence. 
 
 The question of qualifications for a deputy having 
 been brought forward, Duroverai wrote a speech for 
 Mirabeau, which tended to declare bankrupts ineli- 
 gible to any public employment. This was one of 
 the laws of Geneva, to prove the utility of which, 
 Montesquieu had devoted a whole chapter. There 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 183 
 
 are, however, some strong objections to the principle. 
 A merchant may fail without being to blame, and it 
 is hard to punish misfortune by a disgraceful exclu- 
 sion. A bankrupt may be a man of overwhelming 
 talent, and it would not be just to deprive the public 
 of his services. Experience at Geneva, however, 
 had shown that the advantages of this law more than 
 counterbalanced its evils, and the authority of Mon- 
 tesquieu, though not very powerful with the demo- 
 cratic party, contributed, nevertheless, to the success 
 of the motion. M. Reybaz sent a laughable letter 
 on this subject to the Courrier de Provence.'^ 
 
 I forgot to mention another law passed at Ver- 
 sailles, after the king had gone to Paris, and suggested 
 by Duroverai ; namely, the martial law. Insurrec- 
 tions had become so frequent, that the duties of a 
 municipal officer or a town-major were more difficult 
 than when in the presence of a hostile army. In 
 many places the troops, imbued with the revolution- 
 ary spirit of the day, instead of supporting the au- 
 thorities, had joined the people. The revolution 
 existed in the army as in the nation. A handful of 
 mutineers were sufficient to make the commandant of 
 a citadel tremble. Every act of personal defence 
 became a capital crime, and the clamours of the pop- 
 ulace were more formidable than an enemy's battery. 
 
 * Vide Appendix, No. 4. 
 
184 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 Mirabeau had long thought that this popular dicta- 
 ture should be put down, and, if I mistake not, was 
 the first to propose the martial law, which encoun- 
 tered a violent opposition. It is remarkable that he 
 again opposed the popular party, and yet his pop- 
 ularity was not affected by it. Duroverai drew up 
 the law upon the English model, and England was 
 often, though improperly, quoted throughout this 
 debate. There were at this period at Versailles, 
 two English barristers with whom I was intimate. 
 Duroverai, who had a superabundance of activity in 
 the pursuit of his plan, requested that I would ask 
 them to write a letter to Mirabeau, explaining mar- 
 tial law as it existed in England. I told him that I 
 was sure of not succeeding in such a demand ; I had 
 good reasons for thinking so, and it was not until 
 repeatedly urged by Duroverai, that I consented to 
 make the application. I asked my English friends 
 if they would answer a letter from Mirabeau, soli- 
 citing information on the subject ; but I could obtain 
 nothing from either. They would not expose them- 
 selves to have their names mentioned, their letter 
 shown, or to the suspicion of having, in any way, 
 attempted to influence the deliberations of the as- 
 sembly. 
 
 I should not have mentioned this circumstance but 
 to remark, that this reserve belongs to the national 
 character of the English, and that the fear of appear- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 185 
 
 ing in a matter in which they had no concern — the 
 suspicion of intrigue or officious interference, is a 
 feeling as common among Englishmen, as the desire 
 of taking a prominent part and interfering with every 
 thing, is a universal feeling among Frenchmen. 
 
186 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 I HAVE, in my head, a confusion of dates concerning 
 the occurrences of November and December. It 
 was in the former month, that Duroverai went to 
 England. His absence, which was not to have ex- 
 ceeded a week, lasted five or six. M. Seybaz, who, 
 as I have already stated, undertook to supply his 
 place in the Courrier de Provence, seldom attended 
 the assembly, from which he resided at too great a 
 distance, but took his materials from other journals, 
 which were now becoming very numerous. The 
 Moniteur was already begun, and in it was published 
 every speech made in the assembly, whether good or 
 bad. 
 
 As great accuracy in dates is requisite for what 
 follows, I fear I shall be unable to establish them from 
 simple recollections. I must refer to documents, 
 and shall, therefore, be unable to finish this chapter, 
 until my return to London. 
 
 During Duroverai's absence, Mirabeau called upon 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 187 
 
 me one morning, and said, he had a most important 
 communication to make. He began by representing 
 in the blackest colours, the complete disorganization 
 of the kingdom, expatiated on the impossibility of 
 doing any good with the national assembly, as then 
 constituted, and at length, drew from his portfolio a 
 paper, in his own hand writing, of seven or eight 
 pages. " Here,'' said he, " is a plan by which 
 France may yet be saved, and her freedom secured ; 
 for you know me too well, my friend, to suppose 
 that I would co-operate, in any measure, of which 
 liberty were not the basis. Read it through, without 
 interruption. I will then talk to you about the 
 means of execution, and you will perceive that they 
 are commensurate with the greatness of the measure. 
 I cannot, however, tell you all, or name the parties 
 concerned. It is a secret of honour — a solemn 
 engagement." 
 
 I here have occasion to regret the imperfection of 
 my memory, and the lapse of time which has effaced 
 from my recollection most of the details of this pro- 
 ject. It was founded upon the departure of the king, 
 who could no longer bear his captivity at Paris. He 
 was to escape to Metz, or some other strongly fortified 
 city, garrisoned with troops and officers of well known 
 fidelity. On his arrival thither, he was to appeal, by 
 proclamation, to the body of the people. He was 
 to remind the country of his benefactions, and de- 
 
188 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 nounce the crimes of the metropolis. He was to 
 cancel the decrees of the national assembly, as being 
 contrary to law, and founded upon a manifest usur- 
 pation of power. He was next to dissolve the assem- 
 bly itself, and order an immediate convocation of the 
 bailliages to elect fresh deputies. He was, at the 
 Same time, to order all the commandants to resume 
 their authority, and the parliaments their functions, 
 and to act in conjunction against the rebels. He was 
 to summon the nobles to rally round him, for the de- 
 fence of the monarch and his throne. Mirabeau was 
 to remain at Paris, and watch the motions of the as- 
 sembly. So soon as the royal proclamation should 
 appear, all the cote-droit and the moderates of the 
 cote-gauche were, if my memory serves me correctly, 
 to vote that they should immediately follow the king, 
 and separate from those who were of a contrary 
 opinion. If Paris persevered in its disobedience, all 
 communication with it was to be stopped, and it was 
 to be reduced by famine. It was certain, that the 
 clergy, who had been despoiled of their wealth by 
 the national assembly, would employ all their reli- 
 gious influence over the people, in furtherance of 
 this plan , and the bishops were to meet, and protest, 
 in the name of religion, against the sacrilegious usur- 
 pations of the legislative body. — ^There were four or 
 five pages in the same strain. The project appeared 
 arranged with much art, and all its parts seemed so 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 189 
 
 skilfully combined, as to be likely to work well in 
 conjunction. 
 
 I cannot describe my emotion, or rather my alarm, 
 on reading this paper. After a few moments silence, 
 I told Mirabeau that I saw, in this confidence, the 
 strongest proof of his friendship for me ; that I had 
 no observations to make, such projects being beyond 
 my skill ; that I was not competent to decide upon 
 the fate of the monarchy, nor to give an opinion 
 upon the differences between the king and the as- 
 sembly ; but that my resolution was taken, and I 
 should quit Paris in two days. 
 
 The tone of this conversation is strong in ray mem- 
 ory. We spoke in a low voice, and very slowly, 
 like men weighing the importance of each word, and 
 who, to contain their internal agitation, compress every 
 motion of the body, as if they feared a sudden and 
 involuntary explosion. 
 
 ^^You are labouring under a misconception :" said 
 Mirabeau, surprised at my determination; "you 
 imagine this plan to be a signal of civil war. No 
 such thing. You know not to what extent the nation 
 are attached to their king, and how exclusively mon- 
 archical we are. The instant the king is free, the 
 assembly will be annihilated. With him the body is 
 a colossus 5 but without him , a heap of sand. There 
 will be, doubtless, on the part of the Palais Royal, 
 some attempts hostile to the measure. If Lafayette 
 
190 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 should play the Washington, and put himself at the 
 head of the national guard, he would deserve death, 
 and his fate would be soon sealed.'^ — "As well as 
 that of many others/' exclaimed I, ^'^ for assassination 
 will take the place of massacre. I am ignorant of 
 your means of execution, but I am sure they are m- 
 dically bad, because the king has not energy enough 
 to follow them up. He will make this plan miscarry 
 like every other.'' — "You do not know the queen;" 
 he replied, ^' she has prodigious strength of mind : 
 she has the courage of a man." — "But have you 
 seen her?" I inquired. " Have you been consulted 
 with? Are you quite sure that full confidence is 
 placed in you? Recollect with whom you are 
 acting, what kind of men you are supporting. If 
 you were at Metz, or in any other strong hold, and the 
 first part of the project successful, be assured that 
 you would be the first they would get rid of; 
 for you have already made them fear you, and that 
 they will never forgive. But let us forego personal 
 considerations. Has not every thing yet attempted 
 against the assembly proved favourable to it? Does 
 it not command the the power of public opinion? 
 Has it not paralyzed both the finances and the army? 
 The king may establish himself upon the frontiers ; 
 he may obtain assistance from the emperor; but is it 
 in his character to become the conqueror of his sub- 
 jects? And is it with Austrian soldiers that you 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 191 
 
 would establish freedom ? Is it not madness to begin 
 the regeneration of France, with the most deplorable 
 
 of misfortunes ? " I recollect that, animated 
 
 by this conversation, I was no longer upon my guard, 
 and 1 raised my voice. After uttering something 
 with great warmth, and in a very loud tone, Mira- 
 beau and I were both surprised at perceiving, that 
 the sound of a violin in the next room, from which 
 we were separated only by a thin partition, had sud- 
 denly ceased. We had before paid but little atten- 
 tion to it, but its cessation struck us both simultane- 
 ously. '^ We may be overheard," said Mirabeau, 
 ' ' let us go into another Toora . I had anticipated," he 
 continued, as soon as we had changed our quarters, 
 ^^several of the objections you have urged. But I 
 am certain that the court party are bent upon making 
 the experiment, and I think my co-operation neces- 
 sary to its success, and to direct it in favour of liberty, 
 otherwise it will only lead to new errors, and to the 
 total ruin of the country. If it does not succeed, 
 the monarchy is lost." — " And how can any man of 
 sense," said I, ^^ stake his life in such an infernal 
 game ? You are irritated against the national assem- 
 bly, on account of the decree which excluded you 
 from the ministry, and you are unconsciously blinded 
 by your resentment. If such a project had been 
 formed by any one else, you would have considered it 
 either the greatest of crimes, or the consummation of 
 
192 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 an act of the greatest madness. I agree with you, that 
 the assembly is badly conducted ; but I am persuaded, 
 that if seven or eight members only would unite, 
 and act in concert, every thing would go right. If 
 you have interest at court, which I very much doubt, 
 you had better use it in the furtherance of what I 
 now urge. All these half projects, these counter- 
 revolutionary phantasies only tend to increase the 
 general apprehension, and add to the alarms of the 
 jacobins and the comite de surveillance. It is in the 
 assembly alone that you have influence and power ; 
 out of it you possess neither ; and if the court party 
 have really the confidence in you, which you seem 
 to think, you can serve them much better as a deputy 
 than as a minister." 
 
 This is all I can remember of a conversation which 
 lasted two or three hours. My objections had their 
 due weight, and by degrees, I obtained from him *a 
 confession that he had proposed this plan on being 
 sounded as to whether his services might be depend- 
 ed upon, in the event of the king quitting Paris. 
 I then pointed out to him, that which he had over- 
 looked in the blindness of his anger against the assem- 
 bly ; namely, that the court party had only assumed 
 a hypothetical project ; that, not being in the confi- 
 dence of the Tuileries, he had no certain data to 
 proceed upon, and that there was a great difference 
 between giving a plan, and belonging to the council 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 193 
 
 who were to decide upon its adoption. This last 
 consideration was decisive. He felt that he was em- 
 ployed only in a subordinate capacity — for he was 
 not even acquainted with the names of the principal 
 parties to the project of the king's escape — and that 
 he could not answer for the king's vigorous adoption 
 of the plan with all its consequences. He therefore 
 gave me his word of honour that he would withdraw 
 from it, and urge Monsieur,^ who had induced him 
 to join in it, to forego his purpose and advise the 
 court party to turn their views towards the national 
 assembly. 
 
 Two or three days after, Mirabeau informed me 
 that the court party, as well as he, had abandoned 
 the plan ; that the king was irresolute and only seem- 
 ed determined upon attempting his evasion when 
 wincing under some recent insult of the national as- 
 sembly, but thought no more of it the moment they 
 let him alone. There was a new scheme to form a 
 confederation among the moderates, and Mirabeau's 
 services were considered indispensable to its success. 
 Dining, a few days after, at the Bishop of Chartres', 
 Brissot, who was there, said to me with an air of 
 triumph, "Well, you are always laughing at our 
 comite de surveillance and at our 3fetection of con- 
 spiracies ; but this time you will not laugh. We 
 
 * Afterwards Louis XVIII. 
 
194 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 have the clue to a plot, a list of the highest names 
 in the kingdom, as conspirators, and strong evidence 
 to back the charge. I cannot tell you more at pre- 
 sent, but to-morrow, when the denunciation is made, 
 you will know all." On the following day, the comite 
 de surveillance denounced the Marquis de Favras, 
 who was in the service of Momieur, and produced 
 evidence of a plan to carry off the king, and convey 
 him to some frontier town. I know that Monsieur 
 was much alarmed, and thought it necessary to ap- 
 pear at the commune of Paris and disavow all con- 
 nexion with the Marquis de Favras. He also wrote 
 to the national assembly a letter of which Mirabeau 
 claimed the authorship. The storm passed over. 
 Favras, a ruined man and a gambler, was one of 
 those adventurers whom great men always sacrifice 
 when themselves are exposed to danger. During 
 the proceedings against him, Favras behaved with 
 as much sang-froid as the public evinced excite- 
 ment. If an agent of Monsieur, he was faithful to 
 the last, and he mounted the scaffold with a degree 
 of courage that would have done honour to a better 
 man. The secret of this intrigue was never known ; 
 but I have no doubt Favras was one of those men 
 who, when employed as instruments, are led by van- 
 ity much further than their principals intend, in- 
 stead of confining themselves to their particular 
 sphere, they are spurred on by the fatal ambition of 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 195 
 
 embracing objects beyond their reach, and are at 
 last betrayed by their own activity. The fate of 
 Favras convinced the court that their best policy 
 was to form a party in the national assembly. As 
 for Mirabeau, he bestowed a thousand curses upon 
 the shuffling courtiers, those mountebank conspirators 
 who confided the restoration of the monarchy to the 
 exertions of a ruined gamester ; but the praises he 
 bestowed upon the intrepidity of Favras in his last 
 interrogatory, made me shrewdly suspect that the 
 death of the latter was not less consolatory to his 
 friends than to his enemies. 
 
 I must not forget the part taken by Mirabeau in 
 the debate upon church property. Turgot, in his 
 article, Foundation, of the Encyclopedia, had shown 
 that the legislature had an undoubted right to destroy 
 private corporations whenever they became injuri- 
 ous to the public welfare. He had also shown the 
 absurdity of believing that a foundation, that is to 
 say, the private will of an individual, could have the 
 force of law. It followed from the principles he had 
 laid down, that the clergy being only a body of pub- 
 lic functionaries, their property was nothing more 
 than a salary for the services they performed. So 
 long as the clergy were considered Accessary to the 
 state, so long ought they to be paid ; but the state 
 had an undoubted right to pay them either out of 
 the public revenue, like the army, or by means 
 
196 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 especially appropriated thereto, such as lands or 
 tithes. Now the question was only to determine in 
 which way they should be paid ; whether by allowing 
 them a territorial domain or by fixed salaries, like 
 other public ofiicers. The Bishop of Autun was 
 the first to propose a sale of the church property for 
 the extinction of the national debt, and to substitute 
 a fixed salary in its stead. Mirabeau had embraced 
 the same opinion, which was also that of the cote 
 gauche and the popular party. There were two 
 reasons for this measure : — the immense property of 
 the clergy, of which immediate possession could be 
 taken, and a consequent reduction of power, so as to 
 bring that body to a level with its future place in a 
 democratic constitution. A powerful clergy is a for- 
 midable instrument in the hands of a king. The 
 cause of the ecclesiastical body was strenuously de- 
 fended by the Abbe Maury, the Archbishop of Aix, 
 and several others. 
 
 I had nothing to do with this discussion, nor did I 
 write any speech for Mirabeau. I had my own 
 opinions upon this question. I did not approve of 
 immolating victims on the altar of public benefit; and 
 I thought it unjust to discharge the national debt by 
 the spoliation or the clergy. The abolition of con- 
 vents, proceeded in with discretion, was a measure 
 of humanity and wisdom, and the reduction in the 
 future salaries of the clergy seemed compatible with 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 197 
 
 prudence and justice ; but it did not appear to rae 
 necessary to diminish the enjoyment of the actual pos- 
 sessors. I had many discussions on this subject with 
 the incumbents themselves; with the Abbe Morellet, 
 for instance, who would willingly have consented to 
 a sacrifice of part of his income, and approved of a 
 proportionate reduction in the revenue of the pre- 
 lates and great commendatories. I had imbibed 
 my motions on the subject in England, were it is a 
 principle in reforms never to effect them upon living 
 persons. In France this principle was unknown. It 
 had never been acknowledged by the old govern- 
 ment. The expulsion of the Jesuits was a violation 
 of it; M. Necker himself had never observed it, 
 for he had never ceased to reduce, retrench, and 
 economise without caring about the individuals he 
 plundered, whom he considered liberally treated 
 when they had sufficient left to keep them from actual 
 starvation. The inflexible Camus, with his jansenist 
 harshness, governed the poor state pensioners despot- 
 ically ; and because, when he despoiled them of tljeir 
 pensions, he did not appropriate the money to his 
 own use, he passed for a virtuous defender of the 
 public property. He multiplied degrees whereby he 
 rendered thousands miserable, without making a sin- 
 gle individual happy ; for the pensioners, who were 
 the sufferers, endured a loss affecting their very 
 
198 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 means of subsistence, whilst the public, who gained 
 by it, made but an imperceptible profit, spread as it 
 was over the mass of the nation. How mistaken are 
 those pretended reformers who can only better the 
 condition of the one by sacrificing the other. 
 
 At this juncture, the clergy might really be 
 thought not to form part of the French nation. The 
 national assembly, however, did not carry their pre- 
 judice to exclusion, but purposed making a settle- 
 ment upon the ecclesiastical body, which certainly 
 would have proved sufiicient, if there had been no 
 subsequent falling off. The clergy themselves 
 would have suffered without a murmur, had the pro- 
 mised settlement been regularly paid ; but the spoli- 
 ation was real, for the payment of the indemnity 
 was soon discontinued. 
 
 The person who wrote Mirabeau's speech on 
 this question, was one Pelin, a native of Mar- 
 seilles, by profession a lawyer. In his youth he 
 had been implicated in some dirty transactions, 
 had undergone a condemnation, and either suffered 
 punishment or saved himself from it by a pru- 
 dential voyage to the West Indies. He had been 
 of use to Mirabeau during the tumultuous elec- 
 tion at Marsmles, and he came to Paris with 
 his wife, a very young and very pretty woman, 
 doubtless aware that she was in no danger from 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 199 
 
 the austere morality of the tribune of the people. 
 In appearance, Peliii was mild and timid ; he did 
 not talk too much, was reserved and discreet, not bril- 
 liant, but possessed of great abilities. He almost 
 disappeared in the presence of Mirabeau, who treated 
 him as a very humble subordinate, and often assumed 
 a tone towards him which surprised me ; for Pelin 
 was very useful to him, and had written for him a 
 report upon Marseilles, another upon the municipali- 
 ties, and other works which I have forgotten. Pelin 
 was paid for all this, it is true, but complained of not 
 being adequately remunerated. What made Mira- 
 beau assume this air" of disdain and hauteur, was his 
 profound contempt for the man, although he could 
 appreciate his talents and determine to make use of 
 them. One of the speeches upon church property 
 written by Pelin, reminds me of a scene which I wit- 
 nessed by chance. The Abbe Maury had refuted 
 this speech very successfully. Mirabeau, unable to 
 follow the abbe through his arguments, obtained 
 leave to speak for the next d^y. On his return home, 
 Pelin was not there. H^ispatched two or three 
 successive messengers in search of nim, but no Pelin 
 arrived. Towards evening Mirabe^^ecame uneasy 
 and sent again. At length Pelin SSne. As I per- 
 ceived that Mirabeau was in a state of great excite- 
 ment and made use of expressions which the pre- 
 
200 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 sence of a third person rendered very humiliating, 
 I withdrew into a closet with a glass door which I 
 closed ; but I could not help overhearing every 
 word of the reproaches which; like a storm, now 
 burst upon Pelin's head. " Were you at the assem- 
 bly?^' — "No!" — "What! you were not there? 
 Is this the way you behave to me? See what an 
 awkward situation you place me in. Maury spoke 
 for an hour .... and what reply can you make to a 
 speech you have not heard? You would prefer 
 writing one against me; I know you well; but 
 I tell you, that^by to-morrow morning, I must 
 have a complete refutation of Maury's speech. 
 You- will find some extracts from it in the 
 evening papers." Pelin made some diflSiculty, 
 and proposed that an adjournment of the question 
 should be moved ; but Mirabeau seized him by the 
 throat, pinned him against the wall, enjoined him to 
 do what he ordered without delay, and to look well 
 to his conduct. Pelin, with his mind thus prepared 
 for labour and eloquence, withdrew at about seven 
 o'clock in the evening ; ifed what appeared to me al- 
 most miraculous'was, that at seven the next morning, 
 I received froij^ Mirabeau a voluminous manuscript 
 with a note b^^ing me to cast my eye over Pelin's 
 lucubratipn of the preceding night ; to give a little 
 touch, if necessary, to the beginning and end, and 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 201 
 
 send it to him at the assembly at twelve. As I read 
 this production, I was astonished at the flow of ideas, 
 the force of reasoning, the logical arrangement of all 
 its parts, and the subtlety of the arguments in refuta- 
 tion of those points in which Maury had the advan- 
 tage. It was a work of mere dry reasoning, for 
 Pelin had neither imagination nor eloquence ; and 
 its style was that of an ordinary advocate who dis- 
 cusses but embellishes nothing. Mirabeau, less 
 struck by this kind of merit than by that with which 
 Pelin was not endued, did not d# him justice. I 
 returned the manuscript with an- assurance that it 
 might be used with^t fear. I had merely struck 
 out a few superfluities, and was in admiration of the 
 facility and sound logic which pervaded the whole. 
 After all this trouble, the question was adjourned, 
 and the speech only appeared in the Courrier de 
 Provence. 
 
 Mirabeau afterwards assured me that Pelin was 
 so venal that he had more than once written for both 
 parties upon the same question, and this amused him 
 whilst he made it a sourS of considerable profit. 
 But Mirabeau must still have had some confidence 
 in the man, when he continued Jj| Employ him. 
 Pelin, whose talents ought to have raised him to 
 great influence among the jacobins, had^een em- 
 ployed in the Low Countries by the d'Aremberg 
 2a. 
 
202 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 family, and thus found himself implicated by degrees 
 with the aristocratic party. If this individual had 
 displayed more honesty or more energy, he would 
 have attained to distinguished rank in a revolution 
 which opened so wide a field to talent of every de- 
 scription. 
 
 r 
 
 # 
 
 1 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MiRABEAu had quitted his furnished lodgings and 
 taken a house in the Chaussee-d'Antin, which he 
 fitted up like the boudoir of a petite maitresse. In 
 his former straitened circumstances, he had never 
 been able to indulge in his taste for luxury ; but he 
 was fond of pleasure and show, elegant furniture, a 
 good table and much company. There would have 
 been nothing to blame in the style in which he now 
 lived, had it not exceeded his means. His father 
 had left him, besides the title of marquis, which he 
 would not assume because he thought he had given 
 more celebrity to his title of count, very considerable 
 estates, but eat up with incumbrances and in the 
 hands of creditors. He confided to me that an offer 
 had been made to extricate him fr^ these embar- 
 rassments and put him in possession of his family 
 estates. The source whence such an offer came, 
 would have raised suspicion in a proudly independent 
 mind. It was again Monsieur, who undertook to 
 
204 RECOLLEGTIONS 
 
 advance him twenty thousand francs a month until 
 these incumbrances were wiped off, and thus become 
 his only creditor. Such, at least, was the pretence 
 given to a pension paid him by the court. It was 
 the Duke de Levis, attached from his infancy to the 
 household of Monsieur^ who had brought about this 
 arrangement. When in receipt of the pension, Mi- 
 rabeau no longer thought of paying his debts, except, 
 indeed,' the most pressing, and this had probably 
 been anticipated. But as, in appearance at least, 
 the court had abandoned the project of a counter- 
 revolution by means of the king's evasion, and were 
 making great exertions to form a party in the assem- 
 bly, it was necessary to supply Mirabeau with an 
 establishment and the means of action. An open 
 house was an essential requisite for bringing together 
 the men he wanted. But, on the other hand, his 
 new and expensive mode of living must naturally 
 have raised suspicions as to the source of his increased 
 income, and a tribune of the people becoming a Lu- 
 cullus, could not fail to render him an object of dis- 
 trust. The pension of twenty thousand francs was 
 not long paid. Mirabeau was found indocile ; he 
 did not consult the court party — paid no attention 
 to the precautiras which the latter thought they had 
 a right to impose upon him — and treated with the 
 greatest contempt men, who, as he stated, wished to 
 destroy his popularity, which was the very instrument 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 205 
 
 of his success, and which alone could render his ser- 
 vices available. 
 
 He received another pension from the court, at 
 this time, through the Prince Louis d'Aremberg, 
 who was devoted to the queen, and perceived much 
 better than the other courtiers, the fault of neglect- 
 ing to acquire influence in the assembly. Mirabeau 
 introduced me to the prince as he also did Diiroverai 
 and Claviere. The conversations at which I was 
 present related to the necessity of opposing, by pru- 
 dent and measured publications, the unrestrained 
 licentiousness of the public press, of obviating the 
 excesses which could not but prove fatal to freedom, 
 of convincing the nation that the king had entered 
 with sincerity into the spirit of the revolution, and 
 of eradicating that eternal mistrust which enervated 
 all the measures of government. Certain it is, that, 
 at this period, it was a duty incumbent upon every 
 honest man in the kingdom to embrace the king's 
 cause, because the latter felt himself bound, not only 
 from honour and weakness of character, but from a 
 dread of civil war, to proceed in concert with the 
 national assembly ; and because nothing but violent 
 measures and direct attacks, upon the last remnants 
 of royalty, could detach the king from the assembly. 
 Mirabeau, who knew how to set off his friends to 
 advantage as well as to shine by their means, and who 
 displayed a sort of generous pride in placing them in 
 
206 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 the most favourable light, had answered for our 
 serving the king with zeal in all his exertions against 
 anarchy. Claviere anticipated making his way to 
 the ministry through this connexion. 
 
 But it must not be imagined that our little society 
 was always free from disputes. I never quarrelled 
 with any of its members, because I had no personal 
 object and was independent. I had been of service 
 to every one of them, and was under no obligation to 
 either in return. I was often under the necessity of 
 appeasing or reconciling them ; but on one occasion 
 I thought a rupture inevitable. We dined with the 
 prince Louis d'Aremberg. Just as the dessert was 
 put upon the table, the queen sent for the prince, 
 who, as he should not be long absent, made us pro- 
 mise not to go till he returned. There had been a 
 little altercation in the course of the morning, but it 
 had blown over, although enough of excitement re- 
 mained to require little to fan it into a flame. Mi- 
 rabeau was playing with one of his rings, which 
 Claviere looked at, and said in a sarcastic tone : '' Is 
 it a sphinx?" — ^^No,^' replied Mirabeau, " it is a 
 beautiful head of Cicero, and here is one of Minerva, 
 which is much admired."— ^^ Very good !" observed 
 Claviere ironically, ^<^ Cicero on one side, Minerva 
 on the other, and Demosthenes between the two." — 
 "As for you," retorted Mirabeau, who could never 
 bear a joke, ^^ if ever you get yourself painted as a 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 207 
 
 Minerva, do not forget the owl." — " I am not gay, 
 I confess, my dear count, and your means of making 
 me so, are rather too much for me.'^ — " Oh ! if my 
 means won't suit you, you have your own. Have 
 you not de Bourges's libels on me ? Have you not 
 Brissot's little productions? And have you not 
 Madame le Jay's shop, where you state to ail who 
 will listen to you, that my reputation is a usurped 
 one, that I am indebted for it to the labours of my 
 friends, and that if I were reduced to my own re- 
 sources, I should be little or nothing?" — After this 
 reply, the storm burst. The most violent reproaches 
 rapidly succeeded each other; each accused the 
 other of libelling him, of leaguing with his enemies, 
 and of reports injurious to his character. Their 
 anger at length became so impetuous that they could 
 no longer moderate their voices ; and a servant, ex- 
 cited no doubt by curiosity at hearing this noise, 
 opened the door and inquired if they had called. 
 In an instant Mirabeau resumed his sang-froid^ and 
 with the greatest politeness thanked the man, telling 
 him that if any thing was wanted they would ring. 
 Duroverai now joined Claviere, bitterly reproached 
 Mirabeau with many points of his conduct, and de- 
 clared that what with his whims and^eraper, it was 
 almost impossible to carry on any plan in conjunction 
 with him. All soon became confusion — a medley 
 of bitter sarcasms and mutual accusation. Mirabeau 
 
208 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 and Claviere, in great agitation, had often occasion 
 to wipe their eyes, which were certainly not filled 
 with tears of compassion. As I had hitherto re- 
 mained neuter, and said nothing except now and then 
 a few conciliatory words, which proved of no avail, 
 Duroverai made a direct appeal to me, calling upon 
 me to declare whether I had not often blamed such 
 and such parts of Mirabeau's conduct, and whether 
 I were not of their opinion on every point in dispute. 
 Mirabeau, desirous perhaps of keeping open a road 
 to reconciliation, said that if I had blamed him, it 
 was openly and in a friendly conversation, but that I 
 had never leagued with his enemies as they had 
 done, nor endeavoured to undermine his character 
 behind his back, by representing him as a plagiary. 
 When I thought my turn was come to speak, 1 sim- 
 ply observed that such disputes must terminate, and 
 could not twice occur between men of honour. That 
 if they chose to come to a rupture, I should be much 
 grieved at it, but my resolution was taken, and Mi- 
 rabeau could not blame me for not separating, in such 
 an event, from my oldest friends and fellow country- 
 men. But they would all three repent of such a 
 rupture, founded, as it would be, merely upon those 
 little inequalities of temper which they ought mu- 
 tually to pardon in each other, or upon the exagge- 
 rated and malicious reports of evil-disposed persons. 
 " No further discussion is necessary ;" said I, " this 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 209 
 
 must be brought to an issue. You are met here for 
 a common object, and what fresh discovery have you 
 made since dinner, that obliges you to separate? 
 Your being friends at three o'clock was ridiculous, 
 if you are not to be so now." — By degrees the con- 
 versation resumed a milder tone, and we went home 
 in the same carriage, without any thing but public 
 measures being talked of on the way. 
 
 A singular circumstance, which struck me very 
 forcibly, had called this quarrel to my recollection. 
 Mirabeau and Claviere, although beside themselves 
 with rage, maintained, with regard to each other's 
 characters, a discretion which surprised me. I 
 trembled every moment lest Claviere should utter 
 some taunts regarding Mirabeau's private conduct, 
 and tax him with meanness in pecuniary matters. 
 But although he had frequently mentioned such things 
 to me, he was too much master of himself to utter 
 them now ; whilst Mirabeau, on the other hand, 
 foaming with pride and anger, had still the address 
 to mingle with his invectives testimonies of esteem, 
 and compliments upon Claviere's talents. Thus they 
 scratched and caressed each other with the same 
 hand. This rendered a reconciliation easier, and it 
 convinced me that there is no candour even in the 
 anger of a man of the world. 
 
 I can recollect only one more legislative question 
 of importance in which I had any share. In reading 
 2b 
 
210 RECOLLECTIOiNS 
 
 the Contrat Social and the Observations on Poland, 
 I had remarked that Rousseau attached great impor- 
 tance to a system of gradual elections ; that is to say, 
 assimilating civil functionaries to military of&cers, by 
 making them pass through different gradations of 
 office. This has been done in most republics, with- 
 out being the object of an express law, with the 
 exception perhaps of Rome and Geneva, if such con- 
 trasting names may be mentioned together. It 
 seemed to me that such a system would be advisable 
 in France, where a citizen should either pass through 
 a municipality to a department, and through the 
 latter to the national assembly, or have previously 
 exercised public functions of some kind, such, for 
 instance, as those of judge or advocate. Two years 
 of subaltern functions would not make a deputy grow 
 old during his political apprenticeship, and would 
 give him great facility in conducting the important 
 business of the legislature. The question was soon 
 debated among us, and Mirabeau warmly approved 
 of the plan. I wrote a speech on the occasion, with 
 which I took the greatest pains, and when it was 
 first proposed, I had the pleasure of seeing the cote 
 droit join the cote gauche in support of it. But 
 something in it, I know not what, displeased the 
 Lameths ; and Barnave and Duport moved an ad- 
 journment. They perceived, they said, all kinds 
 of aristocratic snares in this proposal, although sup- 
 
OF MIRABEAU.. 211 
 
 ported on the high authority of Rousseau ; and this 
 party had taken such sure steps to obtain a docile 
 majority in the assembly, that the warmest admirers 
 of the project cooled upon it, and the adjournment 
 was carried. This is another occasion on which I 
 had to regret Mirabcau's possessing so little the 
 talent of parliamentary debate, and studying a sub- 
 ject so superficially as he was accustomed to do. 
 He could not reply to Barnave, because he knew 
 nothing of the question beyond the speech I had 
 written for him ; indeed, he had paid so little atten- 
 tion to it, that he was unable even to reproduce, in 
 the form of a reply, the arguments of that very speech. 
 The motion was lost ; but it had interested the re- 
 flecting portion of the assembly. Mallouet had 
 spoken in its favour, and RoBderer enumerated the 
 persons eligible in France, counting by the munici- 
 palities and the departments. I had the satisfaction 
 to reply to Barnave in the Courrier de Provence, 
 and I never wrote with greater pleasure. I com- 
 pletely refuted his arguments, and all the thinking 
 members of the assembly, convinced of the utility of 
 the measure, begged Mirabeau to bring it forward 
 on some other occasion. But as the prudential con- 
 siderations connected with the candidates at the 
 next elections, would prevent its being carried into 
 execution for some years at least, it was not urgent 
 to press it at that time. Had it even been inserted 
 
213 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 in the constitution, it would, for the first few years, 
 have been of no use. Two or three of my friends in 
 England who, after reading Mirabeau's first speech 
 on this gradual system, had blamed it as imposing 
 an unnecessary restraint upon elections, changed 
 their opinion on reading my reply, in the Courrier 
 de Provence, to Barnave's objections. The motion 
 had only one defect, and that was a vital one ; it was 
 the clause which delayed for ten years the execution 
 of the measure. This had been done with a view of 
 gaining a sufficient number of candidates who had 
 passed through the lower gradations ; instead of which, 
 the persons eligible should have been immediately 
 limited, in order that at the ensuing elections, either 
 the old deputies should be re-elected, or, in their 
 stead, persons already in the municipalities and de- 
 partments. Had this precaution been taken, the 
 second assembly would have been composed of select 
 men interested in maintaining the constitution. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 213 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 I QUITTED Paris in the beginning of March. Sev- 
 eral reasons induced me to do so. The quarrels 
 between Duroverai and Mirabeau had become so 
 frequent, from Madame le Jay's dishonest practices 
 with regard to the Courrier de Provence, the whole 
 profits of which she appropriated to herself, that I 
 was glad to withdraw from the paper altogether. 
 My sanguine hopes of regeneration and public good 
 had considerably abated. Not that I conceived the 
 national assembly would not succeed in framing a 
 constitution ; but I had observed its proceedings so 
 closely, that the charm had disappeared, my curios- 
 ity was satisfied, and all illusion had vanished. Du- 
 roverai left me more than my share of the work, and 
 I was sick to death of it, particularly when it origi- 
 nated quarrels and pecuniary discussions. Besides, 
 my feelings towards Mirabeau, whom I had always 
 personally liked on account of his great abilities and 
 his affectionate manners towards me, were much 
 
2i4 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 altered since I had become too well acquainted with 
 hira. His intentions were good, but his passions 
 constantly carried him too far. He was attached to 
 the king and desirous of serving the monarchy, 
 threatened, as it was, on all sides, and the jacobins 
 exerting themselves for its overthrow. But the mo- 
 tives of his services were not pure ; and his expen- 
 sive style of living, supported by means not over 
 delicate, alienated me from him by degrees. What 
 immediately determined me to leave Paris was, that 
 in several political writings of the day, my name 
 was associated with his. The first was a pamphlet 
 by Pelletier entitled : Domine salvum fac regerrif 
 in which, after despoiling Mirabeau of his works, 
 the addresses were attributed to Duroverai and the 
 Courrier de Provence to me. In a short time we 
 were named in a multitude of libels. I felt consid- 
 erable pleasure in being known to a small circle of 
 friends, but was disgusted at being mentioned pub- 
 licly. The character of a subaltern writer was by 
 no means flattering to my pride ; and the idea of an 
 influential intimacy with a man whose celebrity was 
 not immaculate, revolted my delicacy. Instead of 
 having credit for the good I had done, and the evil 
 I had been instrumental in preventing, the very ex- 
 cesses which I had been the first to condemn, would 
 naturally be attributed to me. I perceived that 
 many respectable individuals showed me marked 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 215 
 
 coldness, from the contempt with which Mirabeau 
 inspired them. I had long preserved all my first 
 acquaintances at Paris, and I was much hurt at per- 
 ceiving that party spirit had alienated many of them. 
 My friends in London wrote to entreat I would re- 
 turn, because a connexion with Mirabeau was a 
 stamp of reprobation springing from the prejudices 
 against the revolutionary party, then becoming pre- 
 valent in England. I did return, and the unfavour- 
 able suspicions which had begun to spread among my 
 acquaintances, immediately ceased. 
 
 During my residence at Paris, I had become more 
 or less intimate with several individuals of whom 1 
 shall say a word. What I here state, however, is 
 a mere memorandum, to enable me at a future period 
 to remember some anecdotes. For they sometimes 
 occur to my recollection unexpectedly, just as you 
 often by chance find a thing you had lost, when 
 looldng for something else. 
 
 I used to meet Barrere de Vieuzac at a table- 
 d'hote, where several deputies were in the habit of 
 dining. I considered him of a mild and amiable 
 temper. He was very well-bred, and seemed to love 
 the pevolution from a sentiment of benevolence. I 
 am persuaded that his association with Robespierre, 
 and the court which he paid to the different parties 
 he successively joined and afterwards deserted, were 
 less the effect of an evil disposition, than of a timid 
 
216 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 and versatile character, and a conceit which made 
 him think it incumbent upon him to appear as a pub- 
 lic man. His talents as an orator were by no means 
 of the first order ; there were fifty speakers in the 
 assembly superior to him. He was afterwards sur- 
 named the Anacreon of the guillotine ; but when I 
 knew him he was only the Anacreon of the revolu- 
 tion, upon which, in his "^ Point dujour/^ he wrote 
 some very amorous strains. 
 
 Barnave had a lodging in the house at Versailles 
 of which we occupied a part, after we left the hotel 
 Charost. I never could have become intimate with 
 him, even had he not belonged to the Lameth fac- 
 tion, and been consequently Mirabeau's enemy. He 
 displayed the most irritable self-love, an appearance 
 of jealousy and ill-temper, and the most disgusting 
 presumption. His talents in debate were powerful ; 
 that is to say, after he had exercised them ; for in the 
 beginning of his parliamentary career, he was dread- 
 fully prolix and heavy. He was one of those men 
 who owe their talents to their own exertions, and the 
 development of his was very rapid.* His jealousy 
 of his CO -deputy Mounier, had, as much as his revo- 
 lutionary principles, estranged him from the latter. 
 
 I frequently saw Petion, without indeed guessing 
 
 * Mirabeau once said of Barnave, at a time when he was 
 satisfied with him : " He is a tree growing to become some day 
 the mast of a line-of-battle ship." — Note by Dumont. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 217 
 
 what he would one day become. He had the embon- 
 point of an indolentj and the manners of a good kind 
 of man. But he was very vain, and considered him- 
 self a first rate orator, because, like Barnave, he 
 spoke extempore. He possessed nothing above 
 mediocrity either in wit or intellect, — no strength or 
 force of expression. 
 
 I had known Target the year before, but since his 
 election to a seat in the great assembly, he had 
 become a man of such consequence, that I was too 
 insignificant a personage to be noticed, by him ; and 
 after once or twice encountering his airs of impor- 
 tance, I was not again tempted to obtrude my- 
 self upon his notice. It was said of him that he was 
 drowned in his talents. He was always suffocated 
 by hard words. In Mirabeau's journal, I revenged 
 myself of his airs by some pleasantries, but it would 
 have required much stronger powers than mine to 
 puncture his dropsical eloquence. 
 
 Duroverai and I, when at Versailles, often dined 
 with Mallouet whom we continued to visit at Paris. 
 He has left upon me the impression of being an amia- 
 ble man of mild manners and moderate in his poli- 
 tical sentiments. He was continually making blun- 
 ders in the assembly, to whose forms he could not 
 accustom himself; every thing he did was in the 
 wrong place. He constantly blurted out the most 
 offensive words, and got himself into scrapes, for the 
 2 c 
 
218 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 veriest trifles ; but he had intellect, firmness of mind, 
 good intentions and experience. His work in favour 
 of the slave trade, was not one of his best titles to 
 fame. 
 
 Volney, a tall, lathy, splenetic man, was in a course 
 of reciprocal flattery with Mirabeau. He had ex- 
 aggeration and much dryness, but he was not one of 
 the working members of the assembly. It was 
 deemed necessary one day to order the galleries to 
 be silent. "What !" exclaimed Volney, ^^ are we to 
 impose silence upon our masters?" 
 
 I had twice occasion to converse with Robes- 
 pierre. He had a sinister expression of countenance, 
 never looked you in the face, and had a continual and 
 unpleasant winking of the eyes. Having once asked 
 me for some information relative to Geneva, I urged 
 him to speak upon the subject in the assembly ; but 
 he told me that he was a prey to the most childish 
 timidity, that he never approached the tribune with- 
 out trembling, and that when he began to speak, his 
 faculties were entirely absorbed by fear. 
 
 I sometimes met the Abbe Morellet, who had 
 already become very violent against the national as- 
 sembly. He would have pardoned its democracy, 
 had it only respected — not the church, which he did 
 not much respect himself — but church property, of 
 which he had but lately received his share and 
 thought it hard to lose it so soon. As he had been 
 
OF MIRABEAU, 219 
 
 one of the promoters of the then all-absorbing spirit 
 of liberty, Lord Lansdowne wrote to him that he 
 ought to consider himself as a ivounded soldier in a 
 victorious army. The victory, if it were one, did 
 not, however, console him for his wound. I met 
 Marmontel at his house. The topics of conversa- 
 tion were what the philosophers of the age had 
 done for the eradication of prejudices, and the 
 errors into which they had led the people, by 
 their exaggerations. The general anticipations 
 were far from realized by the aspect which pub- 
 lic affairs then presented, and Marmontel, who was 
 one of the discontented, said, "The national as- 
 sembly often reminds me of a saying of Madame de 
 Sevigne: ' / should like Provence if there were no 
 ProvengauxJ '^* 
 
 I occasionally saw M. Necker, but only as minister 
 and to confer about our affairs of Geneva. I even 
 carried on a correspondence with him, and have 
 some anecdotes on this circumstance, which I shall 
 reserve for a separate chapter. 
 
 Champfort often visited Mirabeau, to whom he 
 sometimes rendered literary services, and also com- 
 municated his violence and harshness. We always 
 remarked that after a visit from Champfort, Mira- 
 
 * Natives of Provence, a people peculiarly harsh and ill- 
 mannered. — English Editor. 
 
220 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 beau's sentiments had become more bitter and more 
 exaggerated. Nothing being now left in the state 
 for Champfort to overthrow, he prepared for Mira- 
 beau a speech against academies in general, and 
 against the French Academy in particular. The 
 latter, from the object of his ambition, had become 
 the subject of his epigrams. 
 
 About the end of 1790, I spent six months at 
 Geneva. I went thither to meet my mother and 
 sisters who had returned to visit their native coun- 
 try. On my way to Geneva, I remained about three 
 wrecks at Paris with Achille Duchatelet, my fellow 
 traveller from London, where I had become ac- 
 quainted with him. Achille Duchatelet had served 
 in America and was imbued with republican princi- 
 ples. On the breaking out of the French revolution, 
 he had embraced the popular party, and this bias 
 was much strengthened by his intimacy with Con- 
 dorcet. His ambition was solely confined to military 
 glory. He was brave, open, honest, and generous; 
 had information, taste and facility ; was one of the 
 most amiable men I knew ; but displayed the unheed- 
 ing impetuosity of a young Frenchman educated in 
 the style of those whose noble birth superseded the' 
 necessity of knowledge. If the mind of such a man as 
 Duchatelet had been formed in England, it would have 
 possessed much more depth and greater strength ; for 
 in his justification it may be observed, that his faults 
 
OF MIRABEAT^. 221 
 
 were only those of the school in which he had been 
 brought up. He had been much struck with the 
 discovery he had made, that England was a much 
 more moral nation than his own. The examination 
 of a religion less superstitious than the one he pro- 
 fessed, overcame his prejudice against all religions. 
 We had several interesting conversations on this 
 subject, and my principles, much more serious than 
 his, had tended rather to cement than to destroy our 
 growing friendship. He was a great admirer of 
 Mirabeau, who was often the theme of our conver- 
 sation, as he was, at that period, of the conversation 
 of all France, and all Europe. For he was the ruler 
 of that assembly who ruled all. At the assembly, the 
 eyes of every one were directed in search of him in 
 the midst of his colleagues ; each was happy at hav- 
 ing heard him speak, and his most familiar expressions 
 were preserved as apothegms. We found, even in 
 the postilions, a singular mode of testifying their 
 admiration of him. ^' Your horses are very bad,'' 
 said we to a post boy between Calais and Amiens — 
 " Yes," he replied, "my two side horses are bad, 
 but my Mirabeau is excellent." The middle horse, 
 in the shafts, being the strongest and doing the most 
 work, was called the Mirabeau; and provided the 
 latter was good^ little attention was paid to the others. 
 Duchatelet was aware that I had the credit, at Paris, 
 of being the author of some of Mirabeau's speeches, 
 
222 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 and he sounded me on the subject, biit with discre- 
 tion. I said nothing in reply to justify his surmises. 
 " Mirabeau must indeed," said he, endeavouring to 
 penetrate my thoughts, " be the author of his writ- 
 ten speeches, because they are precisely in the same 
 style as his extempore ones. They contain the same 
 principles and the same expressions. If he had the 
 materials prepared for him, I have no doubt that he 
 put them together himself. But you, who have 
 seen so much of him, must be able to give a positive 
 opinion on this point." — " I think," said I, " that 
 some people take a delight in undermining the fame 
 of a man of celebrity. Nothing is more easy than to 
 cast imputations of this kind, and nothing more dif- 
 ficult than to refute them. But what matters it 
 whether he lays his friends under contribution or 
 not, provided he make them produce that which, 
 without him, they could not have done? For, in 
 such a case, he is the real author. This species of 
 merit does not belong to every body. And we may 
 ask, how happens it that he is the only one who 
 knows how to use coadjutors, and that no other per- 
 son has the same resource ?" It was thus I eluded 
 his questions without deceiving him. But Mirabeau 
 himself, by his usual indiscretion, soon betrayed the 
 secret. The instant I arrived, I again became his 
 confidant. Not only had he maintained his influence 
 in the assembly, but had become more powerful than 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 223 
 
 ever. He had formed no precise party, but exer- 
 cised a successive influence over both parties, and 
 was treated with as a great power. The jacobins, 
 who, at this period, formed a state within a state, and 
 who sometimes successfully competed with the national 
 assembly itself, were alternately governed by the 
 Lameths, Robespierre and Petion; but whenever 
 Mirabeau condescended to appear in their tribune, 
 he always warped them to his will. He seldom, 
 however, went among them ; for his contempt of this 
 dangerous faction was only equalled by his jealousy 
 of their growing influence. 
 
 He informed me that he was on good terms with 
 the court ; that he had seen the Queen, whose coun- 
 cils he directed, and that he entertained well-founded 
 hopes from that quarter. It had been found neces- 
 sary to obtain his services, instead of listening to the 
 imprudent advice of the emigrants, and the princes 
 of the blood. 
 
 He had then a repbrt to make, in the name of the 
 diplomatic committee, on the feelings of the other 
 European powers towards France. This report 
 deeply interested the court ; for in other hands, it 
 might have become the torch of war, or at least ex- 
 cited general mistrust. Mirabeau's intention was to 
 make it a means of conciliation — to overcome by it the 
 prejudices which the jacobins continued to raise 
 against the houses of Spain and Austria, and to con- 
 
224 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 elude it by charging the executive power with the 
 precautions necessary for the safety of the kingdom. 
 He requested me to write the part of his speech 
 relating to England ; — to forget nothing that might 
 consolidate the friendship of the two countries, and 
 to strike hard at Burke's hook against the French 
 revolution. He was desirous of giving a democratic 
 colouring to this speech, in order to insure the success 
 of his proposal in favour of the executive power. I 
 undertook this task the more willingly, because no- 
 thing was more in unison with my opinions than to 
 combat, on such a momentous question, the preju- 
 dices existing against England, and preserve peace 
 between the two nations. I had found so much ex- 
 aggeration in Burke's work, that I felt no scruple in 
 representing it as a piece of mere declamation, by 
 no means expressing the sentiments of the English 
 nation. I wrote three or four pages of argument on 
 this subject. On the following day, Mirabeau came 
 to Duchatelet's to fetch me, and being unable to con- 
 tain his impatience, read the whole of his speech, 
 with the exception of the portion upon England 
 which I had not yet given him. 
 
 Duchatelet and I went to the assembly. The 
 speech was well received, particularly the part about 
 England and Burke ; because peace with Great 
 Britain was then sincerely desired, and the French 
 were anxious to obtain the esteem of the English. 
 
OF MIBABEAU. 225 
 
 Duchatelet made no remark to me, but the same 
 evening he said in my presence, to Madame Condor- 
 cet, " This man is one of those who prefer concealing 
 what they do, to boasting of that which they have 
 not done." Scarcely was I introduced into this 
 society, when I received that polished kindness of 
 which the French alone have the secret, and which 
 is the more flattering, because there is no fuss made 
 about it, and it consists more in attentions than in 
 words. My reserve with Duchatelet on the subject 
 of Mirabeau, obtained the same reward as modesty 
 does, which is always centuple ; and he attributed 
 to me more than I really had done or could do. 
 
 I have not many recollections of these three weeks, 
 because I saw too many people, and was in a constant 
 bustle. I dined several times with Mirabeau, whose 
 style of living was more sumptuous than ever. He 
 was in a state of affluence such as he had never known 
 before, and certainly did not enjoy it with discretion. 
 I was surprised at seeing him, after dinner, display 
 a casket of jewels of considerable value. This was 
 proclaiming the civil list with a vengeance, and I 
 was astonished it did not affect his popularity. He 
 had purchased part of BufTon's library, which was 
 not a large collection, but very valuable. His table 
 was sumptuous, and his company numerous. At an 
 early hour, his house was full of visitors ; it was an 
 uninterrupted levee from seven in the morning, till 
 2d 
 
226 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 the hour at which he went to the assembly often 
 through a crowd waiting for him at the door, to en- 
 joy the happiness of seeing him pass. Though titles 
 had been abolished, his remained, and he was still 
 the Count de Mirabeau, not only for his guests and 
 his servants, but for the people, who always love to 
 bedeck their idols. Surprised at all this ostentation, 
 I said one day to Claviere, "Mirabeau is badly ad- 
 vised ; he would make people suppose that he was 
 afraid of being taken for an honest man." — "He is 
 necessary to us ; we cannot do without him ;" replied 
 Claviere, " he alone can keep the jacobins and the 
 court in awe, and if he cost the nation a million, it 
 would be money well laid out." 
 
 I might liave become possessed of many secrets 
 relative to his private political connexions, his par- 
 ticular views, his means, and his intrigues, for he 
 seemed greatly disposed to unbosom himself to me ; 
 but I chose to become neither a censor, nor a syco- 
 phant, and his conduct was in too great discordance 
 with my notion of the duties of a public man and the 
 dignity of an independent mind, for me to think of 
 entering with him into a subject which could only be 
 unpleasant to both. He well knew my opinions, and 
 hinted to me in a thousand different ways, that his 
 only object was to save the monarchy if possible ; — 
 that for such purpose, luxury and ostentation were 
 necessary — that morality in trifles was always the 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 227 
 
 enemy of morality in things of importance — that 
 disinterested services were of very rare occurrence 
 — and that the court had hitherto thoughtlessly and 
 without advantage lavished money in profusion. 
 
 I remember an infamous anecdote of the Abbe 
 Lamourette, aferwards bishop of Lyons. It occur- 
 red during dinner ; and Garrat, Volney, Cabanis, 
 Palissot, and several others were present. Lamou- 
 rette was the author of Mirabeau's speeches upon 
 the civil constitution of the clergy , and Mirabeau 
 did not appear, in private, to entertain the same 
 opinion upon this subject as he had maintained in 
 public. On the contrary, he wished for a Catholic 
 clergy, but not a dominant or exclusive one. Palis- 
 sot was speaking of the Abbe Grcgoire who evinced 
 much zeal in the cause of religion, and whom, with 
 the usual intolerance of these gentlemen, he accused 
 of being a charlatan, and a hypocrite, "That I can 
 safely deny," said Lamourette, "for I was his pro- 
 fessor of theology ; and I can vouch for his believing 
 in God a hundred times more than is necessary." — 
 "Take care what you say ;" said Mirabeau, " here 
 is a Genevese whom you will oifend, for he believes 
 in God from the bottom of his heart." — " And so do 
 I," replied Lamourette, " I should be very sorry 
 that he understood me otherwise." — After dinner, 
 on opening a new book which lay upon the table, my 
 attention was arrested by the following title : " Med- 
 
 \ 
 
228 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 itations of the soul with its God^ by the Abbe La- 
 mourette, Professor of Theology/' &c. 
 
 Mirabeau was not satisfied with the side he had 
 taken on the question of the clergy ; and this I recol- 
 lect perfectly. M. Bertrand de Molleville, in his 
 Annals; imputes to him very profound views, and 
 thinks that in furtherance of the plan he had formed, 
 it was necessary to excite the clergy against the as- 
 serablyj in order to bring fresh auxiliaries to the 
 king. This reasoning is very far-fetched. I should 
 rather suppose that he had acted from weakness, and 
 feared to resist the opinion of the revolutionists, 
 which opinion, nevertheless, he did not confound 
 with that of the nation. 
 
 During the last week I spent at Paris, I saw Mira- 
 beau in a new situation — one which he had often 
 seemed to despise, rather I should think from envy 
 than indifference; — he was made president of the 
 assembly. Hitherto he had been carefully kept out 
 of the presidency, although every other distinguish- 
 ed member, and many besides who had no claim to it, 
 had already filled the chair. His present call to the 
 presidency showed that the court party began to 
 perceive how useful he might be to them, for he had 
 too many secret enemies among the democrats to be 
 elected by a majority consisting only of their votes. 
 Never had this office been so well filled ; he dis- 
 played in it a new kind of talent. He introduced a 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 229 
 
 degree of order and clearness in the proceedings, of 
 the possibility of which no member had previously 
 the least conception. He simplified forms ; could 
 render the question clear by a single word, and also 
 by a single word put down tumult. His regard for 
 all parties, the respect he always paid to the assem- 
 bly, the precision of his observations, and his answers 
 to the several deputations at the bar^ — answers 
 which, whether prepared or extempore, were always 
 remarkable for dignity and elegance, and satisfactory 
 even in conveying a refusal ; — in short, his activity, 
 his impartiality, and his presence of mind increased 
 his reputation, and added splendour to his talents in 
 an office which had proved a quicksand to many of 
 his predecessors. He had the art of appearing the 
 first, and of fixing the general attention, even when, 
 being no longer able to speak from the tribune, he 
 seemed to have foregone his most valuable preroga- 
 tive. His enemies and those jealous of his eloquence, 
 who had voted for him, in order thereby to cast him 
 in the shade and reduce him to silence, were bitterly 
 disappointed when they saw him add another wreath 
 to the chaplet of his glory. 
 
 He was far from enjoying good health at this pe- 
 riod. " If I believed in slow poisons," he said to me, 
 ^^I should think myself poisoned. For I feel that I 
 am dying by inches — that I am being consumed in a 
 slow fire." I observed to him that his mode of life 
 
230 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 would long ago have destroyed any man less robust 
 than he. Not an instant of rest from seven in the 
 morning till ten or eleven at night ; continual con- 
 versations, agitations of mind and excitement of every 
 passion ; too high living, in food only, for he was 
 very moderate in drink. "You must," I said, "be 
 a salamander to live in the fire which is consuming 
 you." Like all public and ambitious men in their 
 moments of ennui and fatigue, he entertained, at 
 times, thoughts of retiring from public life. The 
 irritation of his system, at this time, produced violent 
 attacks of ophthalmia, and I have seen him, whilst he 
 was president, sometimes apply leeches to his eyes 
 in the .interval during the adjournment of the sitting 
 from the morning to the evening, and attend the as- 
 sembly with his neck covered with linen to staunch 
 the blood. 
 
 When we separated, he embraced me with an emo- 
 tion I had never before seen him evince. " I shall 
 die at the stake, my dear friend," said he, " and we 
 shall never, perhaps, meet again. When I am gone, 
 my value will be appreciated. Misfortunes to which 
 I have put a stop, were overwhelming France in 
 every direction ; but that base faction whom I now 
 overawe, will again be let loose upon the country. 
 I have nor^e but direful anticipations. Ah ! my friend, 
 how right were we when, in the beginning, we tried 
 to prevent the commons from being declared a national 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 231 
 
 assembly. This is the origin of the evil. Since 
 they have carried that point, they have not ceased to 
 show that they are unworthy of confidence. They 
 wanted to govern the king, instead of being governed 
 by him ; but soon neither they nor he will govern ; 
 a vile faction will rule the country, and debase it by 
 the most atrocious crimes." 
 
 I did not then think that Mirabeau's forebodings 
 would be realized in every point. I considered 
 them as the mere workings of his ardent imagination, 
 and felt by no means disposed to believe in the vil- 
 lainy of the individuals whom he designated as the 
 chiefs of the jacobins. I had often seen his hatred 
 towards individuals lead him into similar exaggera- 
 tions, and 1 attributed his sinister prognostics, in the 
 present instance, to the same cause. 
 
 Three months after this conversation, Mirabeau 
 was no more, . . . 
 
232 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 I AM not perfectly acquainted with the private life 
 of Mirabeau, his domestic habits, or the particulars 
 of his conduct to his parents and his wife. The vio- 
 lence of his youthful passions, may perhaps justify 
 his father's severity ; but the Marquis de Mirabeau, 
 as violent as his son^ had certainly not the art of 
 governing the impetuous temper of the latter. In- 
 stead of attempting to lead him by affection, to which 
 the young man was feelingly alive, he would fain 
 subjugate him by force. Mirabeau used to compare 
 his family to that of Atreus and Thyestes. The 
 eternal quarrels between the parents, formed the 
 children into two hostile factions, and accustomed 
 them, at a very early age, to constraint and dissimu- 
 lation ; whilst the contagion of vice had but too much 
 power over such a temperament as Mirabeau's, so 
 precocious in every respect, and depraved by female 
 intercourse long before his reason had attained to 
 maturity. The manner in which he was brought up, 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 233 
 
 may explain that singular complication of contradic- 
 tory qualities by which he was characterized. 
 
 I have heard, that to obtain the hand of his wife, 
 he practised a very mean stratagem. The parents 
 had refused their consent, from a preference for a 
 rival. It therefore became necessary to force this 
 rival to withdraw, which he is said to have eifected 
 by the following means. He gained the good graces 
 of a maid servant in the house, with whom he had 
 meetings after the family were gone to bed. He 
 used to drive his carriage into a neighbouring street, 
 in order to impart an air of mystery to his motions. 
 This carriage was left there several hours, and the 
 spies of the rival soon reported that the Count de 
 Mirabeau was in the habit of passing the night at the 
 house of his mistress. The lady's reputation became 
 thus implicated, the rival withdrew, and the parents 
 deemed themselves fortunate in hushing the matter 
 up by consenting to the marriage. The happiness 
 of this union, founded upon fraud, was soon inter- 
 rupted by reciprocal infidelity and a separation. 
 
 Mirabeau's correspondence with Madame Mou- 
 nier, from his prison at Vincennes, evinced more of 
 sensuality than sentiment. Many of his letters are 
 so repugnant to modesty, that they degrade the per- 
 son to whom they are addressed ; for no man would 
 presume to adopt so licentious a style in writing to a 
 
 woman for whom he had the least esteem. Garat 
 2 E 
 
234 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 undertook to detect the plagiarisms ia this corres- 
 pondence. I heard his paper read at M. de Talley- 
 rand's. Mirabeau, when writing to his mistress, 
 would copy whole pages from several periodicals of 
 the day. " Listen, my beloved,^' he would write, 
 " whilst I pour my whole soul into thy bosom ;" and 
 such intimate confidence was a literal transcription 
 from the Mercure de France, or a new novel. 
 
 During the leisure of his solitude in prison, he 
 composed an obscene work, which was nothing more 
 than a compilation of the most monstrous impurities 
 found in the ancients. 
 
 That a mind like Mirabeau's should be formed 
 from materials so impure, is doubtless matter of as- 
 tonishment ; but Mirabeau, though immoral, was not 
 crapulous. He delighted in sensibility and affection. 
 I have often heard him express disgust at seeing the 
 unhappy victim of public prostitution. Nor did he 
 make a merit of this, for he believed himself a greater 
 sinner against society than they. Mirabeau could 
 inspire, as well as feel affection. — He had- attached 
 himself in Holland to a woman of respectable family, 
 who had united her fate to his from the effects of a 
 passion which absorbed every other consideration. 
 She was unmarried, young, beautiful, full of grace 
 and modesty ; she would have been an ornament to 
 virtue, had she never seen Mirabeau ; and no one, 
 perhaps, was more deserving of indulgence and com- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 235 
 
 miseration. Mirabeau's friends never forgave him 
 for sacrificing this interesting creature to a wretched 
 woman, who had the insolence of vice, and boasted 
 of her licentiousness. But Madame le Jay had 
 artifice and malice ; was familiar with intrigue, flat- 
 tering and voluptuousness. This woman took advan- 
 tage of her influence over Mirabeau to excite his 
 natural violence and promote her own interest ; and 
 his friends lamented to see him the prey of a cove- 
 tous and debauched female^, who had not one good 
 quality to compensate her faults. 
 
 Mirabeau had a confidence in his own power, 
 which supported him in difficulties under which 
 another would have sunk. His imagination loved 
 whatever was great, and his mind had extraordinary 
 powers of discrimination. He had natural good 
 taste, which he had cultivated by reading the best 
 authors of several nations. Without any depth of 
 information, he made good use of the little he knew; 
 in the turmoil of his stormy life he wanted leisure 
 for study, but in his prison at Vincennes, he went 
 through a course of general reading, made translations 
 from foreign authors, and formed a collection of ex- 
 tracts from many eminent writers. All this, however, 
 scarcely amounted to the stock of knowledge belong- 
 ing to the most ordinary man of letters ; and when he 
 spoke with the open confidence of friendship, he 
 was by no means vain of his acquirements. But 
 
236 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 what he possessed beyond other men, was an elo- 
 quent and impassioned soul;, which, the instant it 
 was excited, animated every feature of his coun- 
 tenance ; and nothing was more easy, than to bring 
 on the requisite degree of excitement. He had been 
 accustomed, from his youth, to consider the two 
 great questions of politics and government ; but he was 
 not competent to enter deeply into them. The work 
 of discussion, examination, and doubt was beyond his 
 reach. He had too much warmth and effervescence 
 of mind for didactic method or laborious application. 
 His mind proceeded by starts and leaps, but its con- 
 ceptions were bold and vigorous. He abounded in 
 forcible expressions, of which he made a particular 
 study, and was peculiarly qualified to shine in a 
 popular assembly, at a stormy period, when force and 
 audacity were the necessary passports to success. 
 
 As an author he cannot rank high, for all his works, 
 without exception, are a species of patch-work, of 
 which very little would be left if each contributor 
 took back his own. But he imparted splendour to 
 whatever he touched, by introducing here and there 
 luminous thoughts, original expressions, and apostro- 
 phes full of fire and eloquence. It was a singular 
 faculty, that which he had of discovering obscure 
 talents, applying to each the degree of encouragement 
 necessary to its peculiar character, and animating 
 those who possessed them with his own zeal, so as to 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 237 
 
 make them eagerly co-operate in a work of which he 
 was to reap all the credit. 
 
 He felt himself absolutely incapable of writing 
 upon any subject, except he were guided and sup- 
 ported by the work of another. His style, naturally 
 strained, degenerated into turgescence, and he was 
 soon disgusted with the emptiness and incoherence of 
 his own ideas. But when he had materials to work 
 upon, he could prune and connect, impart a greater 
 degree of life and force, and imprint upon the whole 
 the stamp of eloquence. That is what he called 
 putting the irait to a work. This trait consisted of 
 a forcible expression, an image, a flash of wit, an 
 epigram, an irony, or an allusion; something, in 
 short, smart and pungent, which he conceived abso- 
 lutely necessary to keep up the attention of his read- 
 ers. It will readily be perceived how dangerous the 
 ^ra/^mania, if indulged in, would become to good 
 taste, and that it would rapidly lead to the affecta- 
 tion which characterized the ages of the decline of 
 literature. 
 
 As a political orator, Mirabeau was, in certain 
 points, superior to all other men. He had a rapid 
 coup deceit J a quick and sure perception of the feel- 
 ings of the assembly, and well knew how to apply 
 his entire strength to the point qf resistance without 
 exhausting his means. No other orator did so much 
 witl» a single word, nor hit the mark with so sure an 
 
238 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 aim; none but Mirabeau ever forced the general 
 opinion either by a happy insinuation, or by a strong 
 expression which intimidated his adversaries. In 
 the tribune he was immovable. They who have 
 seen him well know that no agitation in the assembly 
 had the least effect upon him, and that he remained 
 master of his temper even under the severest per- 
 sonal attacks. I once recollect to have heard him 
 make a report upon the city of Marseilles. Each 
 sentence was interrupted from the cote droit with 
 low abuse ; the words calumniator, liar, assassin, 
 and rascal, were very prodigally lavished upon him. 
 On a sudden he stopped, and with a honeyed accent, 
 as if what he had stated had been most favourably 
 received, " I am waiting, gentleman," said he, ^^ until 
 the fine compliments you are paying me, are exhaus- 
 ted." He never considered himself sufla-ciently pro- 
 voked to forget the decorum of public oratory. But 
 what was wanting to make him a perfect political 
 speaker was, the power of discussion. His mind 
 could not embrace a chain of reasoning or of evi- 
 dence, nor could he refute methodically. Thus, he 
 was often obliged to abandon important motions after 
 he had read his speech ; for in reply, after a brilliant 
 exordium, he had no alternative but to abandon the 
 field of battle to his adversaries. This defect pro- 
 ceeded from his embracing too much, and not medi- 
 tating sufiiciently. He appeared with a speech that 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 239 
 
 had been written for him, and upon the arguments of 
 which he had scarcely bestowed any reflection. He 
 had not taken the pains to anticipate objections and 
 discuss details ; and in these respects he w^as very 
 inferior to many of the intellectual giants whom I had 
 heard in the English parliament. The triumph of 
 Fox, for instance, is in refutation. He resumes all 
 the arguments of the adverse party, puts them in a 
 new light and gives them more force ; — having thus 
 placed himself in the most difficult situation, he pul- 
 verizes them one by one, and never appears stronger 
 than when he seems about to be overthrown. The 
 only speakers in the national assembly, possessing any 
 share of this faculty, were Maury, Clermont Tonnere, 
 Barnave and Thouret. Barnave, in particular, was 
 cased in an armour of logic and argument ; he fol- 
 lowed the reasoning of his opponents step by step, 
 but he had neither imagination, style, nor eloquence. 
 • Some one comparing his didactic talents with Mira- 
 beau's eloquence, another said to him, " How can 
 you compare that artificial espalier to a tree exposed 
 to every blast, spreading its branches in the full 
 luxuriance of natural beauty!" Certain it is that 
 the two individuals were not to be compared. But 
 Mirabeau was conscious of his deficiency in power 
 of discussion, and one day when one of his attempts 
 at refutation had been crowned with a degree of 
 success, he said to us, " I well perceive that to speak 
 
240 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 extempore upon any subject, the orator must begin 
 by making himself master of it.^^ 
 
 Mirabeau's voice was full, manly and sonorous ; it 
 filled and pleased the ear. Always powerful, yet 
 flexible, it could be heard as distinctly when he low- 
 ered as when he raised it. He could go through all 
 its notes with equal ease and distinctness, and he 
 pronounced his finals with so much care that the last 
 syllable was never lost. His ordinary manner of 
 speaking was very slow. He commenced with the 
 appearance of a little embarrassment, often hesitated, 
 but in a way to excite interest, and until he became 
 animated, he seemed as if he were selecting the most 
 agreeable expressions. In his most impassioned mo- 
 ments, the feelings which made him dwell upon 
 certain words to give them emphasis, prevented him 
 from ever speaking rapidly. He had the greatest 
 contempt for French volubility and artificial warmth, 
 which he termed the thunders and tempests of the. 
 opera. He never lost sight of the gravity of a 
 senator, and it was a defect, perhaps, that when he 
 commenced a speech, there was always a slight 
 appearance of preparation and pretension. What 
 seems incredible is that little notes written in pencil 
 were often handed to him in the tribune, and he had 
 the art of reading them whilst he was speaking, and 
 embodying their contents in his speech with the 
 greatest facility. Garat used to compare him to one 
 
OF MIRABEAUr 241 
 
 of those jugglers who tear a piece of paper into 
 twenty little bits, swallow each bit separately, and at 
 last bring forth the original piece whole. He had 
 a most miraculous faculty of appropriating whatever 
 he heard. A word, a historical fact or a quotation 
 uttered in his presence, instantly became his own. 
 One day when Barnave, who was very vain of his 
 extemporaneous oratory, had just rej^ied without 
 preparation to a prepared speech, Champfort, who 
 was talking to Mirabeau on the steps of the tribune, 
 observed that facility was a fine talent if it were not 
 made an improper use of. Mirabeau immediately 
 took this proposition for his exordium, and thus be- 
 gan : "I have often said that facility was one of the 
 finest gifts of nature, if it were not made an impro- 
 per use of ; and what I have just heard, does not 
 induce me to alter my opinion," &c. 
 
 Among his personal advantages, he counted his 
 robust frame, his size, and his strongly marked fea- 
 tures seared with small pox. ^^ You know not," said 
 he, *^ all the power of my ugliness ;" but he con- 
 sidered this ugliness very handsome. He paid the 
 greatest attention to his dress, and wore an enormous 
 quantity of hair dressed in the fashion of the day, 
 and which Considerably increased the size of his 
 head. " When I shake my terrible locks," said he, 
 ''no one dares interrupt me." . . . He was fond of 
 standing before a large pier glass, to see himself 
 2f 
 
242 RECOLLECTIOKS 
 
 speak, squaring his shoulders and throwing back his 
 head. He had also the mania of those vain men who 
 are fond of hearing the sound of their own name, and 
 derive pleasure from pronouncing it themselves. 
 Thus he would suppose dialogues, and introduce 
 himself as one of the speakers ; — as, for instance : 
 " The Count de Mirabeau will answer that," &c. 
 
 Mirabeau did not possess, particularly at first, the 
 qualities necessary for the leader of a party in a po- 
 litical assembly. He was too fond of showing off 
 exclusively, of doing every thing himself, and of 
 engrossing all the attention. He knew not how to 
 flatter the self-love of others, had no general plan, 
 took the chance of whatever might occur from one 
 day to another, and became formidable to the cote 
 droit without gaining the unreserved confidence of 
 the cote gauche. Although fond of flourishing about 
 his party, he had no legions of his own. He was 
 unable to submit to follow up regularly and assidu- 
 ously the sittings of the assembly ; he scarcely ever 
 attended in the evening, and he depended too much 
 upon his own powers, to condescend to consult the 
 other deputies, and obtain their approbation before- 
 hand. For a considerable period he was quite alone ; 
 and he knew nothing of those preparatory tactics by 
 which a permanent and solid body of partizans may 
 be formed into a popular assembly. But in many 
 points, he had much improved. No one knew bet- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 243 
 
 ter how to benefit by experience. Reybaz, who 
 wrote a great deal for him, and was the author of 
 his speeches on the assignats and on many other 
 topics, told me, that he had improved prodigiously^ 
 during the last six months; that is to say, since he 
 had adopted a systematic plan, and aimed at forming, 
 in favour of the monarchy, a powerful union against 
 the jacobins. 
 
 Much has been said of the venality of Mirabeau ; 
 and if some of his detractors are worthy of credit, 
 his talents were actually put up to the highest bid- 
 der. " Since I have been in the practice of selling 
 myself," he would sometimes observe, ^^I ought to 
 have gained sufficient to purchase a kingdom ; but I 
 know not how it happens, that I have always been 
 poor, having at my command so many kings, and all 
 their treasures." It may be admitted, that he was 
 not over- scrupulous in money matters ; but he was too 
 proud to be dishonest, and he would have thrown 
 out of the window any one who dared make him a 
 humiliating proposal. He received a pension from 
 Monsieur^ and subsequently one from the king ; but 
 he considered himself an agent entrusted with their 
 aifairs, and he accepted those pensions not to be 
 governed by, but to govern those who granted them. 
 M. de Narbonne told me that he once heard him 
 say, " A man like me might accept a hundred thou- 
 sand crowns, but I am not to be bought for that sum." 
 
244 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 It is possible, however, that this remark was nothing 
 more than the effect of the same kind of vanity 
 which makes a female opera- dancer find a charm in 
 the high price at which her favours are valued. If 
 Spain and England did really bribe him, what be- 
 came of the sums he received? — How happens it 
 that he died insolvent? Although the expenses of 
 his establishment were considerable in proportion to 
 his means, yet he did not live above the style of a 
 man of ordinary opulence. And if he distributed, 
 for the king's service, the moneys he received, he can 
 no longer be accused of cupidity, for, in that case, he 
 was nothing more than the king's banker. 
 
 I imagine that, in this kind of reputation, Mira- 
 beau has paid the usury of some offences to others. 
 Exaggeration is the first penalty inflicted by the code 
 of public opinion. He was so fully aware that, if he 
 had enjoyed personal consideration, all France would 
 have been at his feet, that there were moments when 
 he would have consented to pass "seven times 
 through the heated furnace," to purify the name of 
 Mirabeau. I have seen him weep with grief, and 
 heard him say, almost suffocated with sobs, "I am 
 cruelly expiating the errors of my youth !" 
 
 His vanity, which was never at rest, except in the 
 intimate intercourse of friendship, rendered him 
 more ridiculous than people chose to perceive, when 
 he had become a great personage. To his peculiar 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 245 
 
 foible might be traced the names of several come- 
 dies, The Author, The J^oble, The Tribune of the 
 People, SfC. He loved praise from all ranks and 
 conditions : he was insatiable in this respect, and was 
 not sparing of it towards himself, under every form 
 which a man of wit and talent could make it assume. 
 He was proud of his fencing, of his acting in plays, 
 of the manner in which he corrected his proofs, in 
 short of every thing. I told him one day, in jest, 
 that with regard to praise, he would willingly break- 
 fast upon an elephant, and sup upon a flesh-worm ; 
 and this joke was near producing a serious quarrel. 
 The historian of the revolution will, no doubt, find 
 some difficulty in drawing the public character of 
 Mirabeau. He was essentially in favour of monar- 
 chy, and opposed the great measure by which the 
 commons revolutionized France ; that is to say, the 
 decree which abolished the orders, and confounded 
 them into one national assembly. He afterwards 
 maintained the necessity of the absolute veto, be- 
 cause, according to his opinion, the king was an inte- 
 gral part of the legislative power. It is true, that 
 after the royal session of the 21st June, he was the 
 first to support the assembly against the king, and 
 that such support rendered the crisis decisive. But 
 this action must be judged by circumstances then 
 existing, and not by the blunders and mishaps which 
 afterwards overturned the throne. What I have 
 
246 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 before stated on this subject sufficiently shows, that 
 at this period, the triumph of a party was to be 
 feared, who wanted to dissolve the assembly, and 
 destroy all hopes of national freedom. The measure 
 adopted by the king had been so badly prepared, 
 that it alarmed the whole nation, and if Mirabeau is 
 blamed on this account, the same blame must attach 
 to all France. 
 
 Mirabeau was desirous of giving to his country a 
 constitution as nearly resembling that of England as 
 local circumstances would admit. But it must be 
 allowed, that his passions, his thirst of popularity, the 
 weakness of the court — particularly in the disbelief 
 that he might be of use — M. Necker's mistrust, and 
 the king's repugnance, threw him out of his direct 
 course, and made him, in his political career, describe 
 an irregular and tortuous curved line, which it is 
 impossible to connect with any single plan, but in 
 which the perseverance and firmness characteristic 
 of a great citizen, are always visible. Had he lived, 
 it is probable that he would not only have constrained, 
 but overthrown the jacobins, and that in the revision 
 of the constitution, he would have exercised un- 
 bounded influence. He would have given strength 
 to the executive, and, above all, prevented the pass- 
 ing of the absurd decree whereby the members of 
 the assembly, by declaring themselves ineligible a 
 second time, abandoned their work whilst it was yet 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 247 
 
 too weak to support itself without their assistance. — 
 He had previously caused the failure of two attempts 
 to carry the same decree, oue made by the aristo- 
 cratSj and the other by the cote gauche. 
 
 Mirabeau is the only man of whom it may be 
 thought, that if Providence had spared his life, the 
 destinies of France would have taken another course. 
 His death gave courage to all the factious. Robes- 
 pierre, Petion and others, who dwindled into insig- 
 nificance before him, immediately became great men. 
 
 Mirabeau himself may be termed, not a great, but 
 an extraordinary man. As a writer, he does not be- 
 long to the first class; as an orator, he is below 
 Cicero, Demosthenes, Pitt and Fox. Most of his 
 writings are already forgotten, and his speeches, 
 with few exceptions, have no longer any interest. 
 The characteristic trait of his genius, consists in his 
 political sagacity, in his anticipation of events, and 
 in his knowledge of mankind; all of which, he ap- 
 pears, to me, to have displayed in a more remarkable 
 degree than any other power of his vigorous mind. 
 There were moments when he declared he felt him- 
 self a prophet ; and, in truth, he seemed to have in- 
 spirations of futurity. His sayings were not attended 
 to, because others could not see so far, and because 
 his forebodings were attributed to disappointed am- 
 bition. But I know that, at the very period when 
 he prognosticated the downfall of the monarchy, he 
 
248 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 had the most glorious anticipations of the future des- 
 tinies of his country. It may be seen, in his letter 
 to Major Mauvillon, that he considered France as 
 able to resist all Europe ; and his correspondence 
 contains many singular passages showing the wide 
 range of his political horizon. In 1782, he met our 
 Genevese exiles at Neufchatel, and spoke to them of 
 the states-general in France as of an event that could 
 not fail of success. *^ I shall be a deputy," he said, 
 " and will restore your country to freedom". . . . No 
 one felt, as he did, the consequences of the royal 
 session, or penetrated so acutely into the views of the 
 commons. I remember two truly prophetic speeches 
 in which he pointed out all the evils of their separa- 
 tion from the king. ^^You will have massacres," 
 said he in one of his speeches, "you will have butch- 
 ering — but you will not have even the execrable 
 honour of a civil war !" His uneasiness, during the 
 cruel malady that carried him off so rapidly, is well 
 known. <^ I take with me," said he to the bishop 
 of Autun, ^^ the last shreds of the monarchy." It 
 was by the same instinctive penetration that he so 
 easily detected the feelings of the assembly, and so 
 often embarrassed his opponents by revealing their 
 secret motives, and laying open that which they 
 were most anxious to conceal. There seemed to 
 exist no political enigma which he could not solve. 
 He came at once to the most intimate secrets, and 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 249 
 
 his sagacity alone was of more use to him than a mul- 
 titude of spies in the enemy's camp. I used some- 
 times to attribute the severity of his judgments to 
 hatred or jealousy ; but it has been justified by 
 succeeding events, and there was not a man of any 
 consequence in the assembly, the sum of whose con- 
 duct did not correspond with the opinion which 
 Mirabeau had formed of him. 
 
 Independently of this natural gift, this intellect of 
 penetration, his life had been so agitated, he had been 
 so tossed upoftthe sea of human existence, as he used 
 to say, that he had acquired vast experience of the 
 world and of men. He detected, in a moment, every 
 shade of character ; and to express the result of his 
 observations, he had invented a language scarcely 
 intelligible to any but himself; had terms to indicate 
 fractions of talents, qualities, virtues or vices — halves 
 and quarters — and, at a glance, he could perceive 
 every real or apparent contradiction. No form of 
 vanity, disguised ambition, or tortuous proceedings, 
 could escape his penetration; but he could also per- 
 ceive good qualities, and no man had a higher es- 
 teem for energetic and virtuous characters. He 
 possessed, within him, an intuitive enthusiasm for that 
 which is great and noble, and he suffered it not to be 
 degraded by his own vices. It was like a looking- 
 glass which might be tarnished with the breath, but 
 
 immediately resumed its brightness. Though his 
 2 G 
 
250 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 conduct was often in contradiction with what he pro- 
 fessedj it arose not from hypocrisy, but thoughtless- 
 ness. He had a purity of reason which elevated his 
 soul, and violent passions which again dragged it 
 down and degraded it. In a word, he was a colossus 
 in every respect, and there was in him a great deal 
 of good, and a great deal of evil : no one could know 
 him without feeling a strong interest towards him, 
 and he was a man born to fill a great sphere with his. 
 prodigious activity. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 I INTEND to place here, some detached anecdotes as 
 they occur to my memory. 
 
 Mirabeau was fond of conferring nick-names, taken 
 from well known names in history. This was an 
 energetic mode of painting characters by the associa- 
 tion of a single word. Voltaire had set the example ; 
 he had called the king of Prussia Alaric-Cottin, 
 Mirabeau often designated Sieyes by the name of 
 Mahomet, particularly at the period when the latter 
 governed the commons, he called d'Espremenil, 
 Crispin- Catalina, to show the ridicule of his con- 
 spiracies. The rigid Camus obtained the appellation 
 of Drapeau-JRouge or red flag, in allusion to the red 
 flag of the martial law, because he had a fiery coun- 
 tenance with a blood- coloured nose. 
 
 " He would fain be a Grandison- Cromwell,'' said 
 he, alluding to M. de Lafayette, whom he looked 
 upon as an ambitious man without power, " and would 
 coquet with the supreme authority without daring to 
 
252 EECOLLECTIONS 
 
 seize it, or indeed possessing the means of doing so." 
 His hatred in this particular instance made him un- 
 just. He also said of Lafayette, "he has made a 
 good leap and fallen backwards;" — alluding to his 
 not keeping up the high reputation he had gained in 
 America. He accused him, besides, of desiring only 
 the glory of gazettes. M. de Narbonne said that 
 Lafayette had every great quality, but something 
 was wanting in each. However, Mirabeau gave him 
 credit for his sang-froid. "He has always pos- 
 sessed," said he, ^^ the same degree of talent as he 
 possesses now."* 
 
 Washington was mentioned; his wisdom, the just 
 proportions of his different qualities, and his general 
 character. Mirabeau did him justice, but said 
 that in his place, after having terminated the Ame- 
 rican revolution, he would have collected an array of 
 adventurers and attempted the almost certain conquest 
 of Spanish America. The fact is, that Mirabeau was 
 incapable of enjoying, in peace and retirement, the 
 
 * Knowing the great esteem entertained by M. Dumont for 
 the character and talents of M. de Lafayette, I would have 
 omitted this paragraph, had I not feared the reproach of garb- 
 ling a manuscript confided to me. Many persons who had 
 read the manuscript during the author's life time, might have 
 fancied that more serious alterations had taken place, had they 
 missed this opinion of Mirabeau on one of the men who does 
 the most honour to his country. — Note hy the Genevese Editor. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 253 
 
 noble existence of a public man after his labours ; he 
 had no conception of otium cu?n dignitate. 
 
 Of M. Necker, he said, "he is like a clock that 
 always goes too slow." The connection we had en- 
 deavoured to bring about between him and M. 
 Necker was not successful ; for the latter did not 
 perceive the use he might be of, and was afraid to 
 trust him. Necker v/ould fain apply to his political 
 connections the same delicacy as in a marriage, or a 
 private transaction. He was acquainted with the age 
 in which he lived, and Mirabeau judged him weak 
 and powerless, considering him but a pigmy in the 
 revolution. " Mallebranche saw every thing in 
 God," said he, " but Necker sees every thing in 
 Necker." He accused him of seeing the whole 
 kingdom in the Rue Vivienne ; that is to say in the 
 state of the funds and of the treasury.* 
 
 * M. Necker evinced the pru'^lery of an honest man in de- 
 clining the acquaintance of a roue, as he considered Mirabeau. 
 He has even denied this commencement of acquaintance. I 
 was mentioning the circumstance to the archbishop of Bor- 
 deaux, who assured me that I was mistaken. " 1 know," said 
 the prelate, " from M. Necker himself, that he only saw Mira- 
 beau twice; it was at Versailles, and these interviews related 
 solely to the affairs of Geneva." "He demanded a confer- 
 ence," said Necker, " and I could not refuse it." It is true 
 that the affairs of Geneva had been the ostensible, but not the 
 real object. What weakness in a man of sense ! — Notes hy 
 Dumont. 
 
254 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 He said that Claviere was a man in head, and a 
 child in heart. He always wanted a regulator ; left 
 to himself, he never ceased to vary. 
 
 I have forgotten the name of a member of the 
 assembly, who had at first .been used as a speaking- 
 trumpet, and who one day delivered a speech very 
 superior to his own talents, and which had been 
 written for him. This deputy Mirabeau termed the 
 Merry- Andrew of eloquence. 
 
 Having one day seen an emblem of time armed 
 with a scythe and clepsydra, he alluded to it at the 
 national assembly, and said, ^^we have taken the 
 scythe, but not the clock." 
 
 He said of the national assembly, "it has Hanni- 
 bals enough, it only wants a Fabius." 
 
 Speaking of the allusions which having once gov- 
 erned men, were for ever destroyed, he said, ^^ we 
 have long been looking with a magic lantern, but the 
 glass is now broken." 
 
 ^'When a pond is full," said he, "a single mole, 
 by piercing the bank, may cause an inundation." 
 
 He could not bear that praise should be bestowed 
 on mediocre talents ; for that is one of the secrets of 
 envy to debase men of superior genius. He loved 
 to repeat a saying of mine. I am not a man of ban- 
 mots, nor is it a bon-mot that I am about to relate. 
 " We call Clermont-Tonnere, the French Pitt," said 
 some one, desirous of lowering Mirabeau. ^^ Be it 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 255 
 
 so/^ I replied, ^^but I should like to know whether 
 Mr Pitt would be flattered at being termed the Eng- 
 lish Clerraont-Tonnere." 
 
 Mirabeau used to relate, with great glee, an anec- 
 dote of his brother. The Viscount de Mirabeau was 
 a very fat and heavy man ; the people called him 
 Tun-Mirabeau. One evening, going to pay his 
 court to Mesdames the king's aunts, the usher of the 
 chamber, deceived by the darkness of the corridor 
 and the heavy walk of the viscount, mistook him for 
 Monsieur^ the king's brother, whose gait was very 
 similar, and announced him as such. ^^ Monsieur, ^^ 
 said he, throwing open the door of the apartment. 
 *'0h! it is only Monsieur, brother of King Mira- 
 beau," said the viscount, and the courtly circle 
 laughed heartily at an allusion which was not entirely 
 devoid of truth. 
 
 Mirabeau, dining one day with the Count de 
 Montmorrin, was asked by the latter what he 
 thought of his brother. "He would be," replied 
 Mirabeau, "a man of wit and a scapegrace in any 
 family but ours." The viscount was not behind- 
 hand with him in epigrams. The friends of Tun- 
 Mirabeau, reproaching him with having one evening 
 attended the assembly almost in a state of intoxication, 
 he replied, "My brother has left me only that one 
 vice." 
 
 Doubts have been entertained of Mirabeau's per- 
 
256 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 sonal courage ; because he had wisely determined to 
 decline every duel, during the sittings of the national 
 assembly. ^^ They can procure as many bullies as 
 they like," he said, " and thus, by duels, get rid of 
 every one who opposes them. For if a man kills 
 ten of the. fellows, he may fall by the hand of the 
 eleventh." He was always armed with pistols, and 
 so were his servants. He feared assassination, but 
 without any good ground, for no attempt was ever 
 made upon his life. And who indeed would have 
 dared to commit so dangerous a crime, knowing his 
 immense popularity ! One evening at Versailles, 
 having left us at about eleven o^clock, he returned 
 some minutes after in manifest agitation. He was 
 attended by one of his servants, who had stopped 
 him in the street and pointed out a man, wrapped 
 up in a cloak, apparently lying in wait. We went 
 out with him to see who it could be. The suspi- 
 cious individual was still in the same place. He al- 
 lowed himself to be accosted. " Pray, sir," said 
 Mirabeau, ^^may I ask what you are doing here at 
 this late hour?" — '^ Sir," replied the stranger, "I 
 am waiting for my master, who is in a neighbouring 
 house," — "and may I ask, why you have a sword 
 under your cloak?" — " Because my master gives it 
 to me when he enters that house, and resumes it on 
 coming out." After this, we easily saw that the 
 adventure was not a sinister one, and having escorted 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 257 
 
 Mirabeau to his own door^ returned home without 
 any suspicious encounter. 
 
 Mirabeau's servants were much attached to him. 
 I went with him to the Bastile a few days after its 
 capture; we visited every accessible part of the for- 
 tress, and descended to a dungeon, into which Mi- 
 rabeau's servant was not allowed to follow us. The 
 poor fellow burst into tears, and conjured me to keep 
 an eye upon his master^ who might otherwise be 
 killed in the dungeon. The idea of the Bastile was 
 associated in the minds of the people with the most 
 sinister ideas, and the dead body of the monster 
 still threw them into an agony of fear. 
 
 I forgot to mention this visit to the Bastile in its 
 proper place. It was a triumphal procession for 
 Mirabeau. The crowd in the Rue St Antoine and 
 the adjacent parts, opened to afford him a passage. 
 Poetry and flowers were thrown over him, and his 
 carriage was filled with books and manuscripts, taken 
 from the fortress during the first two or three days 
 subsequent to its fall. I was put in possession of 
 some of the most curious, which remained in my 
 charge two or three months ; but the committee at 
 the Hotel-de-Ville, who published the reports, called 
 upon such persons as had any of these manuscripts 
 to deliver them up. Mine contained an account of 
 a series of imprisonments which took place at the end 
 of the reign of Louis XV. and the beginning of that of 
 2 H 
 
258 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 Louis XVI. I felt a scruple of conscience in retain- 
 ing them, and therefore forwarded them to the com- 
 mittee. 
 
 Mirabeau had a valet-de-chambre^ whose name 
 was Teutch. This man had been a smuggler, and 
 had performed prodigies of valour without even sus- 
 pecting that he had done any thing extraordinary. 
 " How these freebooters debase courage," once ob- 
 served Mirabeau ; " the greatest intrepidity is the 
 inheritance of the basest of men?" Teutch's per- 
 sonal services lasted a long time, for Mirabeau was 
 very recherche in his toilet, and moreover, sometimes 
 amused himself with kicking and thumping Teutch, 
 who considered these rough caresses as marks of 
 friendship. When, from occupation or some other 
 cause, several days had elapsed without any such 
 tokens being given, poor Teutch was very sad, and 
 his service seemed to weigh heavily upon him. 
 "What is the matter, Teutch?" said his master one 
 day; "you look very melancholy." — " Monsieur le 
 Comte neglects me quite." — "How? what do you 
 mean?" said Mirabeau. "Monsieur le Comte has 
 not taken any notice of me for this week past. Thus 
 it was really a necessary act of humanity to give him 
 now and then a good blow in the stomach ; and if he 
 were knocked down, he laughed heartily and was 
 quite delighted. The despair of this man at Mira- 
 beau's death is inconceivable. Mirabeau's secretary, 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 259 
 
 also, thought proper to carry his affliction a degree 
 beyond that of the public, and in his grief, inflicted 
 upon himself several stabs with a penknife, of which, 
 however, he took good care not to die. 
 
 Mirabeau had a son five or six years old, whose 
 mother I never knew. This poor boy was loved and 
 neglected by his father. ^^ That child," said Mira- 
 beau, by way of praise, "has a ferocious heart." 
 He thought that every thing connected with the 
 blood of a Mirabeau, must needs be extraordinary. 
 Finding the poor child very much neglected, I 
 caressed and fondled him, and was much surprised 
 at seeing this pretended ferocious little animal take 
 my hands, not to bite, but to kiss them. He appear- 
 ed to me of an amiable disposition, and might easily 
 have been managed with a little affectionate care. 
 The father did for his child as for himself, he stole 
 the smart sayings of other children to attribute them 
 to his, and it was perhaps in this way that he had 
 himself been accustomed in his youth to live upon 
 the property of others as if it were his own. 
 
 Mirabeau had imbibed much regard and esteem 
 for Cabanis, then a very young physician, but who 
 was amiable, witty, and had a most unbounded admi- 
 ration for him. He trusted Cabanis from friendship, 
 and was delighed at being able to contribute to his 
 reputation. In his last illness, Mirabeau would have 
 no other physician, although the danger was manifest ; 
 
260 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 for he was anxious to show Cabanis that he did not 
 doubt his abilities, and desirous of giving him the 
 full credit of his cure. Cabanis published an account 
 of Mirabeau's illness, and a copy of his will. I was 
 then at Geneva. From this expose^ our best practi- 
 tioners were of opinion that, from the second day, the 
 physician mistook the complaint, and lost his pre- 
 sence of mind ; that the charge, in short, had been 
 too much for him. Two years after, I ascertained 
 that the physicians of Edinburgh were of the same 
 opinion. They did not say that his death had been 
 caused by the mode of treatment, but that nothing 
 had been done to effect a cure ; in a word, that the 
 disorder, which is distinctly described in a work of 
 Cabanis, had not been treated at all. There was not 
 the slightest appearance of poison ; and that idea 
 was therefore deemed totally unfounded. The com- 
 plaint was acute enteritis, brought on by excesses. 
 Even the actresses at the opera sought the glory of 
 captivating this Hercules, who, trusting to the 
 strength of his constitution, gave himself up, without 
 restraint, to every kind of pleasure. 
 
 The bishop of Autun, who saw much of him dur- 
 ing his last illness, which lasted only four or five days, 
 told me that as soon as the fits of dreadfully acute pain 
 were over, he would resume his serenity, his mild- 
 ness and his amiable attentions to those about him. 
 He was the same to the last moment. He pet-ceived 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 261 
 
 that he was an object of general interest j and did not 
 for a moment cease speaking and acting as if he were 
 a great and noble actor performing his part. He 
 dramatised his deaths was the happy expression of the 
 bishop of Autun. In the extreme agony of convul- 
 sions, and covered with a chilly perspiration, there 
 were moments when it required more than the force 
 of a philosopher to support life. "I shall suffer," 
 he would mildly say, " so long as you have the least 
 hopes of my cure : but if you tiave no longer any, 
 have the humanity to put an end to my sufferings, 
 of which you can form no idea.^' After one of these 
 violent attacks, which had overcome his fortitude, 
 and forced him to groan aloud, he called for his pa- 
 pers, and having selected a speech upon willsy 
 " There 1" said he to the bishop of Autun, ^^ these 
 are the last thoughts the world will have of mine. I 
 deposit this manuscript with you ; read it when I 
 am no more ; it is my legacy to the assembly." This 
 speech on wills was, to my knowledge, written by M. 
 Reybaz. It is done with great care, and its style is 
 not at all like that of Mirabeau. It is a remarkable 
 fact that, on his very death bed, Mirabeau preserved 
 his thirst for artificial fame, when he had so much 
 personal glory that his reputation required not to be 
 decked with the laurels of others.* 
 
 * A speech on the slave trade disappeared from among his 
 papers. It was written by three or four different hands and 
 
262 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 Had I not lived with Mirabeau, I never should 
 have knovi^n all that can be done in one day, or 
 rather in an interval of twelve hours. A day to him 
 was of more value than a week or a month to others. 
 The business which he carried on simultaneously 
 was prodigious, from the conception of a project to 
 its execution, there was no time lost. To-morrow 
 was not to him the same im poster as to most other 
 men. Conversation alone could seduce him from his 
 labours, and even that he converted into a means of 
 work ; for it was always at the end of some conversa- 
 tion that active labour was begun, and writings pre- 
 pared. He read little ; but he read with great 
 rapidity, and discovered at a glance whatever was 
 new and interesting in a book. Writings were 
 copied in his house with prodigious quickness. As 
 fast as a speech changed its form by corrections or 
 additions, he had fresh copies of it made. This la- 
 bour sometimes proved too much for those who 
 
 Mirabeau had himself worked at it with affection. I recollect 
 a beautiful image which he had thrown into a description : " Let 
 us follow upon the Atlantic, that ship laden with captives, or 
 rather that long coffin" &c. Impatient of applause, he read 
 this speech at the jacobins' club, where he produced such an 
 effect, that the persons interested in slave dealing united all 
 their strength to prevent the subject from being discussed in the 
 assembly. They were afraid lest Mirabeau's speech should, by 
 a decree of enthusiasm, lead to the immediate abolition of the 
 slave trade. — Note by Dumont. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 263 
 
 undertook it ; but his haste of temper was known, 
 and he must be obeyed. " Monsieur le Comte,"said 
 his secretary to him one day, '^ the thing you require 
 is impossible." — "Impossible!" exclaimed Mira- 
 beau, starting from his chair ; " never again use that 
 foolish word in my presence I" 
 
 Mirabeau, in connecting himself with the court 
 during the last six months of his life, had no other 
 object than to become a minister. To attain this, it 
 became necessary to revoke several decrees of the 
 assembly. The project of a counter-revolution has 
 been attributed to him, during this period. I am 
 not aware of such a thing. His hatred and contempt 
 of the constituent assembly rendered it indeed pro- 
 bable ; but the experience he had acquired leads to 
 the supposition that he would have undertaken 
 nothing rashly. I am persuaded that he was desi- 
 rous of restoring the royal authority ; but I am con- 
 fident that he would have insisted upon a constitution 
 similar to that of England, and never sanctioned any 
 plan of which the national representation did not 
 constitute the basis. He was favourable to an aristo- 
 cracy, because he considered it essential to a monar- 
 chy ; and the decree abolishing titles of nobility is 
 one which he would have caused to be revoked. 
 
 Bouille's memoirs leave no doubt of Mirabeau's 
 connection with the court, from the beginning of 
 1791. The king, in his letter to Bouille, writes in 
 
364 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 allusion to Mirabeau and some others, " Although 
 these men are not respectable characters, and I have 
 paid an enormous price for the services of the first, 
 yet I think they may be of some use to me ; and it 
 seems advisable to adopt certain parts of their plan." 
 This plan was to dissolve the assembly, by the force 
 and will of the nation itself, by getting up addresses 
 from the departments ; and that, without having re- 
 course to foreign armies, or destroying the people's 
 hopes of freedom — for a new assembly was to be 
 convoked forthwith. This plan, therefore, does not 
 warrant Mirabeau's being considered as a traitor to 
 the popular cause, he was too able a tactician for that. 
 He well knew that all his power lay in the public 
 opinion, and that by restoring absolute power to the 
 king, he should destroy himself. 
 
 All his ambition was centered in the idea of be- 
 coming prime minister of France ; and he thought 
 that he should eclipse every minister who had pre- 
 ceded him. He felt himself powerful enough to 
 attract within the sphere of his patronage every man 
 of distinguished abilities, and he would, he said, 
 compose a halo of talents whose brightness should 
 dazzle Europe. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 In May 1791, I returned from Geneva, and went 
 to reside with Biddermann the Swiss banker, one of 
 my intimate friends. His house was the rendezvous 
 of several members of the assembly, and Claviere, 
 Brissot and Reybaz were among his guests. I seldom 
 went to the assembly, which no longer interested me 
 now Mirabeau was no more. It was occupied about 
 the municipalities, the assignats, &c. The influence 
 of the jacobins had increased, for the death of Mi- 
 rabeau had freed them from their most powerful an- 
 tagonist. Ambitious subalterns could now with 
 safety try their mediocre powers of eloquence. 
 
 The king had gone to the assembly, and, without 
 being called upon, had renewed the oath to be faith- 
 ful to the constitution and co-operate in its establish- 
 ment. A fortnight after, he escaped one evening 
 from the palace, after having eluded the vigilance of 
 Lafayette and his guards. The secret had been so 
 
 well kept that not the least suspicion was raised. 
 3i 
 
266 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 D'Andre would not, at first, believe it, although in- 
 formed of it at six o'clock in the morning, by one of 
 his friends, a valet- de-chambre at the palace. Every 
 one was in blind security ; for it seemed impossible 
 to elude the watchfulness of so many individuals. 
 
 The assembly proved worthy of itself on this oc- 
 casion. The cote droit, uneasy in the midst of Paris, 
 feared to testify their joy ; the cote gauche, alarmed 
 at an event which seemed to presage civil war, re- 
 solved to act with prudence. Prompt and quiet 
 measures were taken to bring back the monarch ; 
 and the occurrence was mentioned in the assembly 
 as the effect of a conspiracy against the king himself 
 — as a forcible abduction, of which the nation would 
 soon be avenged. Pains were taken to keep the 
 people quiet, and the public works went on, as if no 
 change had occurred, and the king only gone on an 
 excursion of pleasure. In this moderation may be 
 traced the effect of strong contending passions acting 
 upon and containing each other ; and it proves that 
 the majority was composed of honest and enlightened 
 men capable of calculating all the consequences of 
 their actions ; and who would not risk the peace of 
 their country. If the king had not been taken, it 
 is very probable that this majority of the assembly 
 .would have treated with him and satisfied him on the 
 principal points of which he complained. The Pa- 
 risians seemed inspired, on this occasion, with supe- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 267 
 
 rior wisdom, and were as quiet as possible. Nothing 
 was heard but jests upon the royal family ; bitter 
 jests, it is true, and which but too clearly indicated 
 that this family had forfeited all respect and confi- 
 dence. '^ The traitor is unmasked ? This then is 
 the result of his oaths ; these are his courtly protes- 
 tations ! We were great fools to believe that a king 
 could love freedom and forego the pleasures of des- 
 potism!" I heard such remarks in every public 
 place. There was not a term of degradation that 
 the people did not apply to the king, but with the 
 greatest sang-froid^ and unaccompanied with tumult. 
 A few hours after the king's flight, every sign of roy- 
 alty disappeared, one after the other. Whatever bore 
 the name of the king or any other member of the 
 royal family, was pulled down ; for the people would 
 not leave any thing standing which was calculated to 
 remind them of a king who had violated his oath. 
 The most libellous songs enlivened the streets, and 
 in a few hours every one had found out that a king 
 was not at all necessary. Levity, fickleness and in- 
 consistency are the characteristics of the people of 
 Paris. "If the king leaves us,'' said they gaily, 
 " the nation remains. A nation may exist without 
 a king, but not a king without a nation." Surely, if 
 the king supposed that his departure would throw 
 the multitude into consternation, he must have been 
 astonished at the general indifference. Reliance 
 
268 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 upon the assembly seemed the prevailing sentiment. 
 At first M. de Lafayette was in danger, being con- 
 sidered an accomplice ; but when it became known 
 that he had been deluded by the court, his popular- 
 ity increased. "There is our stumbling-block gone," 
 was written to me by an individual, who rendered 
 thanks to heaven that the king had thus abdicated 
 the throne. 
 
 The famous Paine was at this time at Paris, and 
 very intimate in Condorcet's family. He thought he 
 had effected the revolution in America, and fancied 
 himself called upon to bring about another in France. 
 
 The whim of writing upon these subjects seized 
 me; I had an idea of making the shade of Mirabeau 
 speak ; and I anticipated a secret pleasure from hear- 
 ing the observations of the public upon a work bear- 
 ing his name. I began with some degree of success, 
 and felt inspired by the subject. I represented the 
 king's flight as a conspiracy of the court party ; I 
 called upon the people to give an imposing and ma- 
 jestic strength to the national assembly, and I pressed 
 the assembly itself to declare that it would always 
 support the king ; and that when it had delivered 
 him from his captivity, it would bring to condign 
 punishment the conspirators who had violated the 
 national dignity. I apostrophised the king, and 
 pointed out to him the misfortune of a prince whom a 
 base faction would fain oblige to conquer his people, 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 269 
 
 and render himself an odious tyrant. I flattered my- 
 self that I had conjured up the shade of Mirabeau to 
 some purpose, and imparted to it language and sen- 
 timents which Mirabeau himself would not have 
 disavowed, when Duchatelet called upon me. After 
 a short preamble, he put into my hand an English 
 manuscript, in the form of a proclamation to the 
 French people. It was nothing less than a manifesto 
 against royalty, and it called upon the nation to seize 
 the opportunity, and become a republic. Paine was 
 the author of it. Duchatelet was determined to 
 adopt and put his name to it, to placard it on the 
 walls of Paris and stand to the consequences. He 
 came to request that I would translate it and add 
 some necessary developments. I began by discuss- 
 ing with him this strange proposal 5 and pointed out 
 the danger of raising the standard of republicanism 
 without the concurrence of the national assembly. 
 Nothing was yet known of the king's intentions or 
 means ; how he was supported, or what were his alli- 
 ances, his army, and the assistance he would receive 
 from the provinces. I asked Duchatelet whether 
 he had consulted with any of the most influential 
 men, such as Sieyes, Lafayette, and others ? He 
 had not; he acted alone. Paine and he, the one an 
 American, the other a young thoughtless member 
 of the French nobility, put themselves forward to 
 change the whole system of government in France. 
 
270 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 I resisted all his entreaties, and peremptorily refused 
 to translate his proclamation. In vain did he urge 
 that I shared none of the responsibility; that whe- 
 ther I acceded to his wishes or not, the thing would 
 be done, and that I might as well assist him as a 
 friend, and blame him, at the same time, if I thought 
 proper. I afterwards congratulated myself on hav- 
 ing remained inflexible, and for fear of evil conse- 
 quences to myself, I determined to make Mirabeau 
 return to the tomb. Next day, the republican pro- 
 clamation, signed Duchatelet, appeared on the walls 
 in every part of Paris, and was denounced to the 
 assembly. The idea of a republic had presented 
 itself to no one, and the first intimation of such a 
 thing filled the cote droit and the moderates of the 
 cote gauche with consternation. Mallouet, Cazales, 
 and several others, proposed that the author should 
 be prosecuted ; but Chapelier, backed by a numerous 
 party, fearful of adding fuel to the fire instead of 
 extinguishing it, moved the order of the day, on the 
 plea that the proposal was an absurdity and the 
 author a madman. 
 
 I owe it to truth to declare, that Duchatelet 
 sounded many persons, and was listened to by none ; 
 that Sieyes refused his concurrence in terms of the 
 greatest contempt ; that several individuals urged 
 that the time for a republic was not yet come, and 
 that Lafayette, in particular, repulsed all those who 
 
 
OF MIR A BEAU. 271 
 
 spoke to him on the subject, and declared, if I am 
 rightly informed, that it required at least twenty- 
 years more to bring freedom to maturity in France. 
 But some of the seed thrown out by the audacious 
 hand of Paine, began to bud forth in the minds of 
 many leading individuals. Since the flight of the 
 king, Condorcet had become a determined republi- 
 can; Claviere, Petion, and Brissot met to discuss 
 the question ; it was also mentioned at Bidderman's, 
 and I saw the formation of the first filaments of 
 republicanism which became so rapidly developed 
 in the southern provinces. The following was the 
 reasoning of the different committees : " The king 
 has forfeited the public confidence, which he can 
 never recover. The nation can never forget his 
 flight after such positive oaths freely taken. He 
 cannot himself forget that he has been brought back 
 by force, and that he reigns by mere sufferance over 
 a people who despise him either as a weak man or as 
 a traitor. The elements of the monarchy are de- 
 stroyed, for the king can no longer appear but as a 
 conspirator ; and nothing would be more absurd than 
 to confide high powers in the constitution to one who 
 has declared himself its enemy." 
 
 Though these arguments were very strong against 
 the king personally, they were weak against royalty 
 in the abstract. No line between the person and 
 the office was drawn, because it presented a difficulty 
 
272 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 which could not then be solved^ except by placing 
 some other member of the royal family upon the 
 throne. This alternative pleased none of the indi- 
 viduals I have named, for the Duke of Orleans, the 
 only prince who could have been selected, was con- 
 sidered too despicable. 
 
 It was further urged, that for two years past, it 
 was the assembly who had governed, and not the 
 king. The obstacles had all proceeded from the 
 latter, the resources from the former. At length 
 Condorcet said, "If a republic were formed by a 
 revolution, and the people rose against the court, the 
 consequences would be terrible ; but if a republic be 
 formed at present, whilst the assembly is all-powerful, 
 the passage from monarchy to republicanism will not 
 be difficult; and it is much better that it should take 
 place now when the king, from the situation in 
 which he has placed himself, is reduced to nothing, 
 than when sufficient power has been restored to him 
 to render his overthrow an effort." As for royalty 
 itself, it was looked upon as a bugbear for children 
 and a plaything for men. 
 
 Whilst the assembly were discussing the steps to 
 be taken with regard to the king's conduct, these 
 new republicans were desirous that he should be 
 brought to trial, his abdication proclaimed, and 
 France boldly declared a republic. 
 
 The opinion of persons with whom I was intimate 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 273 
 
 had an influence upon mine ; but after all, it was but 
 an opinion, and one which raised constant doubts in 
 my mind. I found great interest in attending their 
 meetings and listening to the discussion of a subject 
 of such vast importance. I remember one day, 
 having met at Petion's to determine upon a motion 
 to be made in the assembly upon the king's return ; 
 Petion was playing the violin, and Brissot became 
 seriously angry at such indifference and frivolity at 
 a moment when the fate of the monarchy was to be 
 decided upon. Petion had been deputed, with 
 Barnave, to go and fetch the king at Varennes. It 
 is certain that this honour had not changed him. 
 Barnave, he informed us, was like a provincial 
 bourgeois, struck with surprise and admiration at 
 finding himself in the same carriage with the king. 
 As for Petion himself — and I attribute it more to his 
 insensibility than to his magnanimity — he was not 
 even moved with compassion for a prince fallen from 
 his greatness, and felt no personal vanity ; or rather, 
 one species of pride had contended with another. 
 The self-love of Petion, who was looking for popular 
 honours, had rendered him insensible to courtly 
 honours. As a courtier of the people, he despised 
 the courtiers of the king. He thought that the pop- 
 ular favour led to power, and the royal favour to 
 nothing at all. He was one of those men who can 
 
 dispense with fortune, because they require no luxu- 
 2k 
 
274 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 ries. I believe him to have been incorruptible in 
 money matters ; but there are so many other sources 
 of corruption 1 
 
 Brissot was more disiaterested, but fanatical and 
 obstinate. I will speak of him more largely here- 
 after. He had many noble qualities, but they were 
 corrupted by party spirit and degenerated into vices ; 
 though a man formed to do good, he became the tool 
 of evil. 
 
 I had a high opinion of Condorcet, whose judgment 
 influenced that of many others. The friends who 
 met at his house, formed the true nucleus of the re- 
 public* It was said that Madame Condorcet had 
 been treated contemptuously by the queen, and that 
 her republican zeal originated in a woman's ven- 
 geance. But I do not believe it. Madame Condor- 
 
 * The greatest misfortunes in France originated perhaps in 
 the republic having arisen from a storm, instead of being formed 
 with deliberation. I do not mean to assert that a good republic 
 might have been made for France ; only that the same spirit 
 which deprived the king of his authority would have prevented 
 him from resuming or maintaining it ; and it is in this point of 
 view alone that Condorcet and his followers ought to be judged. 
 He was not a jacobin ; he perceived what the jacobins wanted, 
 and urged t!ie formation of a republic by the assembly, to pre- 
 vent one from being established by the populace. The most 
 inconsistent were they who, like Sieyes, not being republicans, 
 did not cease their attacks upon the feeble remains of royal 
 authority. — Note hy Dumunt. 
 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 275 
 
 cet owed her love of republicanism to her own 
 serious character, to a mind fond of philosophical 
 meditation, to the reading of republican works, and 
 to her passion for the writings of Rousseau. Her 
 husband had an enthusiasm of reflection; she, of 
 sentiment. Both felt convinced that freedom could 
 never flourish in France, and spring up to a goodly 
 tree, under the shadow of a throne. Paine had 
 given them false notions of England, which I often 
 combated in vain. America seemed to them the 
 model of a good government, and they considered 
 it easy to introduce the system of federalism into 
 France. 
 
 Robespierre was so alarmed at the king's flight, 
 that he had hid himself two whole days, and intend- 
 ed to proceed for safety to Marseilles. On the 
 king's return, he began to listen to Brissot and Pe- 
 tion, but with much reserve at first ; and he contin- 
 ued to undermine the monarchy without declaring 
 himself in favour of a republic. 
 
 From what I have stated, it is evident that the 
 first republicans were not creatures of the duke of 
 Orleans, as has been asserted. They were indepen- 
 dent men, and I see not what moral reproach they 
 incurred whilst their opinion remained only an opin- 
 ion. The king's departure was proof clear enough 
 that the court would never be reconciled to the con- 
 
276 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 stitution, upon which the people then founded all 
 their hopes of liberty. 
 
 Several members of the assembly, however, came 
 to a more prudent way of thinking. They readily 
 conceived that a humane and virtuous monarch 
 might, by the endless humiliations inflicted upon him, 
 be driven to an act of despair. From that time, La- 
 fayette began to fear the jacobins more than the 
 royalists. Duport, Barnave and the Lameths per- 
 ceived the necessity of again supporting the monarch 
 and attaching him to the constitution, by an interest 
 common to both. They therefore pursued a new 
 plan ; but having found it easier to destroy than to 
 re-establish, they lost, as moderates, the popularity 
 which they had acquired as factious men. 
 
 I remained at Paris but a few days after the king's 
 return. My fellow travellers to London were the 
 celebrated Paine and Lord Daer, a young Scotchman, 
 mad after liberty and republicanism — an honest and 
 virtuous enthusiast, who thought that, by transplant- 
 ing the principles of the French revolution into his 
 own country, he should be rendering it the greatest 
 service. I had met Paine five or six times before, 
 and I could easily excuse, in an American, his pre- 
 judices against England. But his egregious conceit 
 and presumptuous self-sufficiency quite disgusted me. 
 He was drunk with vanity. If you believed him, it 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 277 
 
 was he who had done every thing in America. He 
 was an absolute caricature of the vainest of French- 
 men. He fancied that his book upon the Rights 
 of Man ought to be substituted for every other book 
 in the world ; and he told us roundly that, if it were 
 in his power to annihilate every library in existence, 
 he would do so without hesitation, in order to eradi- 
 cate the errors they contained, and commence, with 
 the Rights of Man, a new era of ideas and principles. 
 He knew all his own writings by heart, but he knew 
 nothing else. He repeated to us even love letters of 
 his composition, written in the most fantastic style. 
 They were the effusions of his youth, and worthy of 
 Mascarillo. Yet Paine was a man of talent, full of 
 imagination, gifted with popular eloquence, and wield- 
 ed, not without skill, the weapon of irony. My 
 curiosity concerning this celebrated writer was more 
 than satisfied during this journey, and I saw him no 
 more. 
 
 My friends forwarded to me in London, the first 
 four numbers of the JRepublican, a periodical work 
 to which I had promised to become a contributor.* 
 
 * I wrote, for this republican journal, an article which was 
 published in the two first numbers, after my departure, but with 
 such changes and mutilations that I no longer recognized it as 
 my own. These alterations consisted in additions, suppressions 
 and expressions injurious to the king, all which were not in 
 
278 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 But my ideas, in a state of excitement from my resi- 
 dence at Paris, had soon became more temperate in 
 London. Being no longer within the influence of a 
 fascinating society, I considered the subject in a dif- 
 ferent point of view, and wrote a long letter to Cla- 
 viere, not only to inform him that I retracted my en- 
 gagement, but to represent to him that such a journal, 
 being in direct opposition to the national assembly 
 and the constitution already decreed, would be a 
 criminal publication. I further urged that, since the 
 king's return, the opportunity of founding a republic 
 had gone by, and that he and all his friends would 
 be incapacitated from serving the nation, if they per- 
 severed in principles which were no longer professed 
 except by a particular faction. I replied in the same 
 strain to the letters of Madame Condorcet. Claviere, 
 soon after, wrote that the Republican was given up, 
 and the idea of a republic no longer existed ; that 
 there was a reaction wholly in favour of monarchy ; 
 that the assembly itself seemed to be promoting a 
 counter-revolution, and that the sole suspicion of re- 
 publicanism had become an odious imputation. 
 
 The assembly, then in the act of revising the 
 constitution, showed a desire to abandon its errors, 
 correct exaggerations, and associate the king with 
 
 unison with either my political opinions or my personal feelings. 
 — Nota by Dumont. 
 
OF MIRABfiAtJ. 279 
 
 public liberty. But each time a proposal was made 
 tending to strengthen the executive, the parti de la 
 Montague called out treason. If, however, the 
 well-thinking portion of the assembly, who had dis- 
 covered their error, had then thought of meeting 
 and concerting measures of united action, it is proba- 
 ble that the constitution would have undergone im- 
 portant amendments. I had many particulars from 
 d' Andre, the leading personage in the assembly du- 
 ring these four months. Though not the most osten- 
 sible, he was the most skilful, the most flexible, and 
 the most able member in preparing a motion and 
 making it succeed. When a plan was agreed upon 
 in the committee of Lafayette, La Rochefoucauld, &c. , 
 d' Andre went early to the assembly. As the mem- 
 bers came in, he consulted them, insinuated his opin- 
 ion, got them to press him to propose it, and did not 
 seem to accede until they had promised to support 
 him. This is the art he used to strengthen his party, 
 and, in giving an opinion, he always seemed to be 
 following one that had been suggested to him. 
 
 The parti de la Montague^ often thwarted by 
 d' Andre, took a dislike to him. Brissot, in his Pa- 
 triot, attacked him with incredible virulence. The 
 jacobins looked upon him as a man sold to the king. 
 He had much talent and dexterity, but no imposing 
 eloquence, and this is the reason why he never sue- 
 
280 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 ceeded in making himself popular. Sieyes, who 
 would sometimes give way to a vein of pleasantry, was 
 very fond of reciting a dialogue supposed to have 
 passed between d' Andre and John, his valet- de-cham- 
 bre. 
 
 ^^D" Andre, What is the order of the day? 
 
 John. Sir, it is the question of the king's com- 
 missaries in the courts of justice. 
 
 D'' Andre. Help me off with this coat, and give 
 me the old one. 
 
 John. It is worn out at the elbows, sir. 
 
 D' Andre. So much the better ; that is just what 
 I want. Give me my old hat and my old stockings. 
 
 John. Will you have your boots, sir ? It is wet 
 under foot. 
 
 D^ Andre. No, they are quite new; give me 
 my thick shoes with iron nails; a little mud spoils 
 nothing. This is an important question. Now, I 
 am well dressed; who the devil, seeing me in this 
 trim, would think of the civil list?'' 
 
 D' Andre complained to me more of his associates 
 than of his enemies. Their indolence was extreme ; 
 they were weakened by the secret consciousness of 
 having changed their opinions ; and when accused 
 of inconsistency and contradiction, they could not re- 
 ply to their opponents. In a word, they had been 
 all fire in the attack, but were chilled in the defence. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 281 
 
 They often assembled in private, deliberated a long 
 time, and determined upon nothing. The parti de 
 la Montague had the advantage over them of con- 
 sistency, whilst among the moderates were to be 
 found traitors to their own principles. 
 
 D'Andre said that the greatest obstacles proceed- 
 ed from the court. The king listened to a great 
 many different counsellors, whose advice he rendered 
 nugatory by an ill-judged amalgamation of the whole. 
 There was a number of petty intrigues, but no really 
 concerted co-operation. A succession of foolish 
 measures brought suspicion upon the court, and gave 
 the appearance of counter-revolution to the acts of 
 those who were working heart and hand for the 
 maintenance of the constitutional monarchy. The 
 greatest of their annoyances was to find themselves 
 connected with persons who would have hanged 
 them all for the re-establishment of despotism. 
 
 The court party certainly committed suicide. 
 The king was so badly advised, particularly by the 
 queen, that he exerted all his influence to get the 
 decree passed, which rendered the members of the 
 first assembly ineligible to the second. D'Andre 
 made me acquainted with all the particulars. He 
 received a visit from one of the king's confidants, 
 who, after preparing the way with a great deal of 
 nonsense about gratitude, the esteem of the sovereign 
 2l 
 
2'82 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 and future favours, told him that the court depended 
 upon him to support this decree. D'Andre, who con- 
 sidered it as destructive of the constitution, did 9,11 
 in his power to open the king's eyes upon this 
 point. To save time he got the question adjourned ; 
 employed those who had influence at court, to point 
 out the evils which would be the result — but the 
 blindness was complete ; and the resentment of the 
 queen against most of the members of the cote 
 gauche, was so violent, that she considered the mon- 
 archy saved, if she could only succeed in excluding 
 from the assembly the men who had destroyed the 
 power of the crown. The court had been led, or 
 pretended to suppose, that the provinces were well- 
 intentioned — that the king was beloved by his peo- 
 ple, and that the electors would return men of a very 
 different character, who would repair the faults of 
 their predecessors. D'Andre, who presided when 
 the decree was proposed, saw, with astonishment, 
 the whole cote droit, who had been gained by the 
 court party, join the parti de la Montagne, to get it 
 passed without a discussion. '^ To the vote ! to the 
 vote !" sounded on all sides. D' Andre exerted himself 
 to enable his friends to speak, and subdue this danger- 
 ous enthusiasm, but could not succeed. The decree 
 was passed by acclamation, and the persons most 
 pleased with its success, were they who, by support- 
 ing it, had prepared their own downfall. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 283 
 
 The constitution was a true anomaly, containing 
 too much of republicanism for a monarchy, and too 
 much of monarchy for a republic. The king was 
 an absolute excrescence ; he appeared every where, 
 but possessed no real power. 
 
284 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 No event ever inspired the whole of Europe with 
 so deep an interest as the convocation of the states- 
 general. Every enlightened and reflecting mind 
 associated the most flattering anticipations with this 
 public struggle against old and deeply rooted preju- 
 dices, and expected a new moral and political world 
 to arise out of chaos. The necessity of hope was so 
 great, that all faults were pardoned? all misfortunes 
 imputed to accident ; and in spite of calamities, the 
 balance remained in favour of the constituent as- 
 sembly. It was the prosecution of despotism by 
 humanity. 
 
 Six weeks after the convocation of the states- 
 general, they no longer existed— they had been con- 
 verted into a national assembly, whose first misfortune 
 was, that it owed its new title to a revolution ; that 
 is to say, to a change in its powers, its attributes, its 
 title and its means. The commons should have acted 
 in concert with the nobles, the clergy, and the king ; 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 285 
 
 instead of which, they subjugated the clergy, the 
 king, and the nobles, and acted not only without, but 
 against them. This is the whole of the revolution. 
 
 We may reason ad infinitum upon the causes of 
 the revolution ; but in my mind, there is only one 
 dominant and efficient cause — the weakness of the 
 king's character. Had a firm and decided prince 
 been in the place of Louis XVI. the revolution 
 would not have happened. The whole of this mon- 
 arch's reign led to it through different gradations. 
 There is not a single period, during the existence of 
 the first assembly, when the king could not have re- 
 established his authority, and framed a mixed con- 
 stitution much stronger and more solid than the old 
 parliamentary and nobiliary monarchy of France. 
 His weakness, his indecision, his half measures and 
 half counsels, and more particularly his want of fore- 
 sight, led to the catastrophe. The subordinate 
 causes which concurred, are only the development 
 of the first cause. When a prince is weak, his 
 courtiers are intrigants ; the factious, daring and 
 insolent ; the people audacious ; honest men timid ; 
 the most zealous and faithful servants of the state 
 discouraged ; the services of men of talent rejected ; 
 and the best advice rendered nugatory. 
 
 A king with dignity and energy of character 
 would have drawn towards him, those who proved 
 hostile to him ; and such men as Lafayette, the 
 
286 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 Lameths, Mirabeau, and Sieyes, would not have 
 even thought of acting as they did, but upon a dif- 
 ferent field of action, would have appeared quite 
 different men.* 
 
 After the forcible union of the orders, the as- 
 sembly then enjoying the supreme power, pursued 
 
 * This article requires development.^ln England there are 
 discontented individuals, but no discontented classes. The 
 king, nobility, gentry, merchants, manufacturers, farmers, cler- 
 gy, army and navy, are each proud of their profession, of the 
 consideration they enjoy, and the prospects attached to their 
 situation in life. In France, before the revolution, discontent 
 pervaded all classes of society. The farmers and cultivators 
 were tired of the inequality of the taxes, and the arbitrary 
 manner in which they were often imposed. The merchants 
 were despised by the nobility, whilst the smaller nobles were 
 jealous of the higher, who were alone presented at court, and 
 in favour. The parliaments, with their contested prerogatives, 
 were sometimes powerful, at others ill-treated ; exposed to exile 
 when they resisted the government, and despised by the people 
 when they yielded to the will of the court. The advocates, a 
 numerous and widely-spread class, were kept below their pre- 
 tensions, and their ambition was without hope. No place was 
 offered to merit, in a kingdom where venality gave up all judi- 
 cial appointments to fortune. A tie of common interest was 
 wanting between the different orders. The provinces had, 
 likewise, distinctions which led to rivalry and hatred ; there 
 were fifty different organizations, each jealous of the other, and 
 forming different states, united under the same crown, but ene- 
 mies from their privileges. — Note by Dumont. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 287 
 
 a new plan. The faults of this body may be traced 
 to nine causes. 
 
 1. Its heterogeneous composition. The parties 
 were too much irritated against each other to act in 
 concert. They only sought to throw difficulties in 
 each other's way, and overcome each other. The 
 discontented often got decrees passed^ in the hope 
 that the faults of the assembly would throw it into 
 discredit with the public. They endeavoured to 
 degrade it, and thus led it to self-destruction. 
 
 2. The composition of the commons. There 
 was too great a number of men without property, 
 and advocates who carried democracy to the extreme 
 of exaggeration. 
 
 3. The bad method of carrying on their pro- 
 ceedings. Forms are to a popular assembly what 
 tactics are to an army. There was as much differ- 
 ence between the debates of the national assembly 
 and those of the English parliament, as between the 
 scientific sieges and marches of the Austrians, and 
 the irregular combats and skirmishes of the Croats. 
 
 4. The constitutional decrees, sanctioned as fast 
 as they were drawn up, and made permanent, with- 
 out regard to the constitution as a whole ; which 
 rendered the advantages of experience abortive, and 
 drove the discontented to despair. Had these de- 
 crees been only provisional, the hope of amending 
 them would have supported all parties. 
 
288 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 5. The fear of a counter-revolution. The revo- 
 lutionary party had set out by making powerful ene- 
 mies ; and they then fancied they could never take 
 precautions enough for their own safety. Every 
 thing that had the least appearance of royal authority 
 gave umbrage; the king's power seemed never suffi- 
 ciently destroyed ; but, on the contrary, always on 
 the point of resuscitation. The injury which they 
 had done it, made it an object of dread to them. If 
 the king but made himself popular by some step in 
 favour of the revolution, the assembly became jea- 
 lous. " The executive is pretending to be deadP^ 
 once observed Lameth. 
 
 6. The emigration. This was the greatest of all 
 faults. The king was weakened by this desertion, 
 and the emigrants, by their intrigues, their protesta- 
 tions, and the uneasiness they created, brought on an 
 internal reaction. 
 
 7. The institution of the jacobins and other 
 affiliated societies. The whole of the people were 
 excited by these societies, which soon became pow- 
 erful rivals of the assembly. A member who had no 
 influence with the assembly, had only to affect exag- 
 gerated democracy, and he became a hero among the 
 jacobins. These societies formed hot-houses, in 
 which every venomous plant that could not be made 
 to grow in the open air, was forced, to maturity. 
 
 8. The false measures of the court party. The 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 289 
 
 latter began at first by acting against the assembly, 
 in which they afterwards attempted to obtain influ- 
 ence ; but it was too late. M. Necker displayed a 
 prudery in this respect, honourable, no doubt, to a 
 private individual, but indicative of great ignorance 
 in a statesman. He knew not how to form a party, 
 nor would he connect himself with Mirabeau, or 
 flatter Sieyes to obtain his support. 
 
 9. The secession, after the king's return from 
 Varennes, of the members of the cote droit who, 
 during the monarch's captivity, refused to vote in the 
 assembly. Their inaction paralyzed the moderate 
 revolutionists, and rendered them too weak to resist 
 the jacobins. Had these moderates joined Mallouet 
 and the Lameths, they might yet have preserved 
 the constitution. 
 
 The causes which overthrew this constitution, so 
 solemnly sworn to, and so enthusiastically received 
 by the whole nation, may be reduced to four. 
 
 1. The unity of the legislature. If there had 
 been two councils or legislative bodies, their progress 
 would have been less impetuous ; and one would 
 have served as a regulator to the other. 
 
 2. The independence of the legislative assem- 
 bly. If the king had possessed the power of convok- 
 ing or dissolving it, he could have made his share 
 of authority respected. But the moment the assera- 
 
 2 M 
 
290 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 bly attacked him, he found himself without the means 
 of resistance. 
 
 3. The decree which rendered the members of 
 the first assembly ineligible to the second. Though 
 this be a secondary cause, it is, nevertheless, a very 
 powerful one. The newly elected deputies were 
 jealous of the glory won by their predecessors, and 
 had no regard for a work in which they had not 
 themselves concurred. 
 
 4. The immutability of the constitutional laws. 
 If my opinion be a correct one, ten years at least 
 should have been allowed for altering the defects in 
 these laws. A legislature whose hands were thus 
 tied, found themselves in too cramped a situation ; 
 and the two parties in the assembly soon concurred 
 in a violent revolution which burst these absurd 
 bonds. 
 
 This assembly, after enjoying so brilliant an exist- 
 ence, had an obscure end. From the moment of the 
 king's return, it fell into disrepute, and dragged on 
 the remnant of its being, between mistrust and con- 
 tempt. Since it had discovered the evils arising 
 from its excesses, and endeavoured to moderate them, 
 it had lost that ascendency which belongs to offensive 
 warfare. It seemed as if it would deprive the people 
 of the power it had conferred upon them; and it had 
 the appearance of condemning its own work, which 
 it was then completing with remorse and disgust. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 291 
 
 Nothing was more brilliant than its beginning, nothing 
 more insignificant than its end. 
 
 The assembly no doubt repented not having pass- 
 ed the constitutional laws provisionally, as it had 
 been advised to do, so as to be able to compare and 
 modify them as a whole, after the constitution was 
 completed. By adopting a contrary system, an error 
 became irremediable, and the effect of a bad law 
 necessitated the framing of still worse laws. 
 
 The revision, which was only a methodical arrange- 
 ment and classification, would have been the most im- 
 portant act of all, if the assembly had reserved 
 a power of amendment over these laws. Maturity 
 of judgment, acquired by an experience of three 
 years, would then have aided in perfecting the work. 
 But from ignorance and presumption, the assembly 
 had pronounced itself infallible, and had made all im- 
 provement impossible. At each decree, the depu- 
 ties burnt, as it were, the ship which had brought 
 them, and thus cut off all means of retreat. The 
 truth is, that each constitutional law was a party 
 triumph, and they who gained it would not leave 
 their adversaries any hope of recovering their loss. 
 The result of these forced laws, declared immutable, 
 was to bring about a revolution by which, in the 
 space of eight months, they were all annihilated. 
 
 There is a fact which I distinctly remember, 
 strongly illustrative of this defective mode of pro- 
 
292 RECOLLECTIOIQS 
 
 ceeding. The committee appointed to draw up the 
 code of constitutional laws were in the greatest em- 
 barrassment to class and arrange them. Many fruit- 
 less attempts were made and many plans proposed 
 and rejected. Every one capable of giving advice 
 was consultedj and if I am not mistaken, they re- 
 mained in this difficulty five or six weeks, when M. 
 Ramond, Lafayette's friend, furnished the plan of 
 arrangement whicTi was adopted. 
 
 I have finished with more patience than I had an- 
 ticipated the account of my connexion with Mira- 
 beau, and my recollections of this first epoch of the 
 French revolution. This is the most interesting 
 period, and yet I have rendered it very little so. I 
 must have made very imperfect observations, had 
 very little active curiosity, or my memory must be 
 very defective. That such a multitude of events 
 which occurred before my eyes, and the numerous 
 actors with whom I had constant communication, 
 should have left so slight an impression upon my 
 mind, is a reproach which I feel that I deserve. It 
 is the effect of my indifference to things when they 
 are passing before me : and whose importance I never 
 perceive till after they are gone by. Whilst they 
 last, the most extraordinary appear to me but com- 
 mon events, and obtain little of my attention. 
 Though this confession may serve to convict me of 
 stupidity, I cannot otherwise explain the little I saw 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 293 
 
 and retained of this great drama. It is true that 
 wherever I have lived, I have always been the last 
 in the house to perceive what was going on. If I 
 am required to know any family circumstance, it 
 must be mentioned to me ; for not only am I not 
 penetrating and cannot guess, but I have no taste for 
 confidences, nor have secrets any attraction for me. 
 I make these reflections with the more vexation be- 
 cause I have retained less of the second part of my 
 subject, upon which I am now about to enter, than of 
 the first. My recollections are more scattered and 
 the chain of events oftener broken. I have lost mctch 
 of what I once knew ; and what is still more irrepa- 
 rable, I did not take advantage of the particular cir- 
 cumstances under which I was placed to become ac- 
 quainted with half of what I might have known with 
 very little trouble. I could never make up my mind 
 to ask about any thing that was not first mentioned to 
 me ; but it is also true that I obtained nothing by 
 torture; therefore all I know proceeds from free and 
 voluntary testimony. 
 
294 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The first who came to England, after the close of 
 the assembly, was Petion. I had been too intimate 
 with him at Paris not to call upon him in London. 
 But he was so well received, and his society so much 
 courted, that the good fortune of finding him alone 
 was very rare. It was who should have him at their 
 house. He was overloaded with invitations and re- 
 ceived the most flattering attentions. He had come, 
 he said, to examine trial by jury in civil and criminal 
 cases. He did not, it is true, understand the English 
 language, but a barrister well acquainted with the 
 French language ofiered to accompany him to the 
 courts of law. A day was fixed, but Petion did not 
 keep his appointment. He had been showing Lon- 
 don to a friend just arrived. He remained only 
 three weeks, and the attentions he received from a 
 particular party excited the suspicion of the go- 
 vernment. 
 
 Some time after, d' Andre sought refuge in Lon- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 295 
 
 don. The pitiless Brissot had not ceased, in his 
 paper called the Patriot, to propagate calumnies 
 against him. Brissot thought it necessary to ruin or 
 at least drive him away ; and as he was an active and 
 intelligent man, devoted to the king, he was accused 
 of participating in the civil list. If d'Andre enjoyed 
 his share of royal favour, he did not, at all events, 
 make an ostentatious display of it. After the closing 
 of the assembly, he had the good sense, although a 
 noble, to enter into trade, and open a grocer's shop 
 at Paris. This conduct, so popular and so conso- 
 nant to the spirit of the constitution, ought to have 
 disarmed Brissot^s malice ; but Brissot was one of 
 those men in whom party spirit prevailed over right 
 and justice ; or rather, he confined right and justice 
 to his own party. He had more of the zeal of the 
 monk than any man I ever knew. Had he been a 
 capuchin, he would have doated upon his staff and 
 his vermin — a dominican, he would have burnt here- 
 tics — a Roman, he would have proved not unworthy 
 of Cato and Regulus. But he was a French repub- 
 lican, who had determined to overthrow the monar- 
 chy ; and to accomplish this object he hesitated not 
 to calumniate, to persecute, and to perish himself 
 upon the scaffold. 
 
 I became acquainted with d' Andre at Versailles ; 
 but I afterwards saw very little of him at Paris. On 
 his arrival in London, I called upon him, introduced 
 
296 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 him to several of my friends^ and had opportunities 
 of knowing him well during his two or three years' 
 residence in England. He had a great deal of wit, 
 a quick glance, great facility of explanation without 
 being an orator, and great clearness of conception — 
 all which made him an expert and industrious mem- 
 ber of the national assembly, and afterwards an ex- 
 cellent merchant. He was affectionate, generous, 
 obliging, easy and simple in his manners; modest, 
 retiring, and timid in company, to such a degree, 
 that the man who had been four times president of 
 the assembly, and had spoken before all France, was 
 agitated and nervous at the idea of supporting an 
 opinion or keeping up an indifferent conversation 
 before three or four individuals. What he wanted 
 was an air of dignity and an imposing carriage. A 
 vulgar countenance, and an insignificant figure told 
 against him in his elevated situation, nor had he any 
 thing in his appearance to indicate, at a first glance, 
 either his talents and quickness of perception, or his 
 benevolence and goodness of heart. 
 
 I do not remember the exact time when M. de 
 Talleyrand came to London. By a decree of the 
 national assembly, which prohibited, during two 
 years, its members from being employed by the ex- 
 ecutive, he could not have an ostensible public mis- 
 sion. But he had an equivalent. His was a journey 
 of observation, and he was to negotiate, if he found 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 297 
 
 the English ministers accessible, that is to say, dis- 
 posed to consider the constitutional king of France 
 in a new light, and maintain the neutrality of Great 
 Britain in the event of war, which began to appear 
 inevitable on the continent. 
 
 I had formed no intimacy with the bishop of Au- 
 tun at Paris, but we were acquainted, and he had 
 not been long in London before he made me such 
 advances as from our relative ranks ought to have 
 come from hira, if he were desirous of a closer ac- 
 quaintance. He had particular letters of intro- 
 duction to Lord Lansdowne ; and his distinguished 
 reputation, which opened to him the road to the 
 highest political honours, caused his society to be 
 courted by such as had not already imbibed strong 
 prejudices against all who were connected with the 
 French revolution. 
 
 M. de Talleyrand is descended from a family of 
 sovereign counts, one of the most ancient houses in 
 France. He was the eldest of three brothers ; but 
 being lame from infancy, he had been thought un- 
 worthy of figuring in the world, and was destined for 
 the church, although he possessed not one of the 
 qualifications which, in the Roman communion, can 
 render this profession even tolerable. I have often 
 heard him say, that, despised by his parents as a 
 being disgraced by nature and fit for nothing, he had 
 
 contracted, from his earliest youth, a sombre and 
 
 2n 
 
298 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 taciturn habit. Having been forced to yield the 
 rights of primogeniture to a younger brother, he had 
 never slept under the same roof with his parents. 
 At the seminary he had but few intimate associates ; 
 and from his habitual chagrin, which rendered him 
 unsociable, he was considered very proud. Condemn- 
 ed to the ecclesiastical state against his will, he did 
 not imbibe sacerdotal sentiments and opinions, any 
 more than cardinal de Retz and many others. He 
 even exceeded the limits of indulgence granted to 
 youth and gentle blood ; and his morals were any 
 thing but clerical. But he managed to preserve 
 appearances, and, whatever were his habits, no 
 one knew better when to speak and when to be 
 silent. 
 
 I am not sure that he was not somewhat too ambi- 
 tious of producing effect by an air of reserve and 
 reflection. He was always at first very cold, spoke 
 little, and listened with great attention. His fea- 
 tures, a little bloated, seemed to indicate effeminacy ; 
 but his manly and brave voice formed a striking con- 
 trast with this expression. In society, he was always 
 distant and reserved, and never exposed himself to 
 familiarity. The English, who entertain the most 
 absurd prejudices against the French, were surprized 
 at finding in him neither vivacity, familiarity, indis- 
 cretion, or national gaity. A sententious manner, 
 frigid politeness, and an air of observation, formed 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 299 
 
 an impenetrable shield around his diplomatic cha- 
 racter. 
 
 When among his intimate friends he was quite a 
 different being. He was particularly fond of social 
 conversation, which he usually prolonged to a very 
 late hour. Familiar^, aifectionate, and attentive to 
 the means of pleasing, he yielded to a species of in- 
 tellectual epicurism, and became amusing that he 
 might be himself amused. He was never in a hurry 
 to speak, but selected his expressions with much care. 
 The points of his wit were so acute, that to appreci- 
 ate them fully required an ear accustomed to hear 
 him speak. He is the author of the bon-mot quoted 
 somewhere by Champfort, where Rulhiere said, " I 
 know not why I am called a wicked man, for I never, 
 in the whole course of my life^, committed but one act 
 of wickedness." The bishop of Autun, who had not 
 previously taken any part in the conversation, im- 
 mediately exclaimed, with his full sonorous voice and 
 significant manner, ^^ But when will this act be at 
 an endP^' One evening at whist, whilst he was in 
 London, a lady of sixty was mentioned as just having 
 married a footman. Several expressed their surprise 
 at such a choice. " When you are nine," said the 
 bishop of Autun, "you do not count honours !" This 
 kind of wit belonged exclusively to him. He imbibed 
 it from the writings of Fontenelle, of whom he was 
 always a great admirer. He once related to me an 
 
300 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 abominable act of his colleague^ C . . at which i in- 
 dignantly exclaimed, " The man who would do that, 
 is capable of assassination ! " '^ No," said M. de 
 Talleyrand, ^' not of assassination, but of poisoning 1" 
 His manner of story-telling is peculiarly graceful ; 
 and he is a model of good taste in conversation. In- 
 dolent, voluptuous, born to wealth and grandeur, he 
 had yet, during his exile, accustomed himself to a life 
 of privation ; and he liberally shared with his friends 
 the only resources he had left, arising from the sale 
 of the wreck of his superb library, which fetched a 
 very low price, because, even in London, party- 
 spirit prevented a competition of purchasers. 
 
 Talleyrand did not come to London for nothing. 
 He had a long conference with Lord Grenville, of 
 which I have read his written account. Its object 
 was to point out the advantages which England might 
 derive from France having a constitutional king, and 
 to form a close connexion betv/een the two courts. 
 For, although the British cabinet appeared deter- 
 mined, in the event of war, to preserve a strict neu- 
 trality, it was extremely reserved towards France, 
 because it neither sympathised with the French gov- 
 ernment, nor believed in the stability of the French 
 constitution. This coldness gave great disquietude 
 to the cabinet of the Tuileries, and it was Talley- 
 rand's object to bring them closer together, even if 
 he could not unite them, and thus make sure that, at 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 301 
 
 all events, France had nothing to fear from England. 
 Lord Grenville was dry and laconic ; nor did he 
 lend himself, in any way, to the furtherance of Talley- 
 rand's views, notwithstanding the advantages they 
 held out to England. It is well known that Lord 
 Grenville afterwards represented the bishop of Autun 
 as a clever, but dangerous man. Mr Pitt, when very 
 young, visited France, and spent some time with the 
 archbishop of Rheims, Talleyrand's uncle. Here the 
 latter became acquainted with him, and these young 
 men passed several weeks together in friendly and 
 familiarly intercourse. But in the only interview 
 they had in England, Talleyrand thought it Pitt's 
 place to recall this circumstance, and therefore did 
 not mention it. Pitt, who was decidedly opposed to 
 the object of Talleyrand's mission, took good care 
 not to remember the uncle, lest he should be obliged 
 to show some civility to the nephew. 
 
 On Talleyrand's presentation at court, the king 
 took but little notice of him, and the queen turned 
 her back upon him with marked contempt, which 
 she subsequently imputed to his immoral character. 
 From that period he was excluded from the higher 
 circles of society, as a dangerous man, and the agent 
 of a faction, — who could not actually be turned out 
 of doors, but whom it was improper to receive well ; 
 and he could not hope for much success in a mission 
 which began under such unfavourable auspices. 
 
302 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 In the course of February 1792, Talleyrand was 
 informed by his correspondents at Paris, that impru- 
 dent changes were about to take place in the ministry, 
 and that his friend, Louis de Narbonne, the minister 
 of war, was in danger of being dismissed. He im- 
 mediately applied for and obtained permission to 
 return to Paris, and determined to take with him 
 Duroverai, whom I had introduced to him, and whose 
 advice he had found very useful. Duroverai had 
 much at heart the maintenance of a good understand- 
 ing between the two countries, and flattered himself 
 that his connexion with Talleyrand might promote 
 that object which, he thought, could not but be 
 agreeable to the English government. He was very 
 intimate with Lord Sydney, and some other indivi- 
 duals connected with the British cabinet; and he had 
 taken advantage of this intimacy to dissipate the 
 prejudices formed against Talleyrand. His inter- 
 vention had therefore been useful to both parties, and 
 he fancied himself called upon to be the secret me- 
 diator between the two governments. Talleyrand 
 wanted him at Paris, to confirm all that he had to say 
 concerning the general feelings in England, to Cla- 
 viere, Brissot, and several others who had formed 
 very wrong notions on the subject, and who would 
 listen more readily to their old friend Duroverai 
 than to Talleyrand, who might be suspected of hav- 
 ing some personal interest at stake. Duroverai's 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 303 
 
 opinion was a passport for his — a letter of credit to 
 the chiefs of the popular party. It was for these 
 same reasons that both Talleyrand and Duroverai 
 urged me to accompany them, and in truth, I requi- 
 red very little pressing. The idea of this visit to 
 Paris, which was to last only a fortnight, but ex- 
 ceeded six weeks, gave me much pleasure. I had 
 seen too much of the first assembly not to be desi- 
 rous of seeing the second. It was an interesting 
 episode in my monotonous existence. If I could join 
 my voice to theirs, and dissipate the prejudices 
 which we knew our friends to have formed against 
 England — if I could make them feel the necessity of 
 doing every thing for the preservation of peace, I 
 should serve the cause of freedom and humanity. — 
 Such an object of public interest gave fresh excite- 
 ment to a journey of pleasure, and connected me 
 with a great political project. I was also intimate 
 with Con dorcet, Claviere, Petion, and many others 
 whom it was necessary to bring to act in concert. 
 
 € # 
 
^04 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Never did I perform a more agreeable journey. 
 Talleyrand was fond of having a small party in a car- 
 riage, because the conversation, of which, soit dit en 
 passant, he was the life and soul, was friendly and 
 uninterrupted. Hopes, projects and pleasing anti- 
 cipations kept our minds to the necessary degree of 
 tension, and we had not an instant of langour or in- 
 difference. Talleyrand, among many other singular 
 anecdotes, described the manner in which the new 
 clergy had been consecrated. Three bishops were 
 necessary for the ceremony, and his two coadju- 
 tors had hesitated till the last moment. Nothing 
 was less canonical than the means he employed to 
 secure the co-operation of one of them, w^ho wanted 
 to withdraw and thereby prevent the ceremony 
 from taking place.* One species of fear overcame 
 
 * Being told by the bishop of Lida, that the bishop of Ba- 
 bylon was wavering in his resolution, Talleyrand paid the latter 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 305 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 another, and the breviary by which they were con- 
 vinced was a pistol and a menace of self-destruction. 
 That so sacred a ceremony should have been brought 
 about in such a manner, did not seem to me quite in 
 unison with the principles of religion ; but when the 
 critical situation of the bishop of Autun is consid- 
 ered, and the danger he would have incurred had 
 the weakness of his colleagues prevented the conse- 
 cration of the new clergy, some excuse may be made 
 for an act which tended to preserve the community 
 from revolt and bloodshed. 
 
 As we entered Paris, on the 19th of March, a 
 friend of M. de Talleyrand's stopped our carriage 
 to inform us that the court party had obtained the 
 dismissal of M. de Narbonne. His connexion with 
 the Girondists had led to the measure ; but people 
 were surprised that the king should still venture 
 upon inflicting this kind of disgrace. De Graves 
 had been appointed to succeed M. de Narbonne. 
 
 a visit, and with a most serious look, informed him that their 
 colleague, the bishop of Lida, was on the point of deserting 
 them ; that he well knew to what such conduct exposed them 
 from the people ; but his mind was made up never to suffer him- 
 self to be stoned by the mob, and he would certainly shoot 
 himself if either of them betrayed him. As he said this, he 
 produced a small pistol which he flourished with an air of de- 
 termination. This menace had its due effect. — Note by Du- 
 mont. 
 
 2o 
 
306 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 I soon made myself acquainted with what was 
 going on. There were three parties in the assem- 
 bly, each of whom swore by tlie constitution, though 
 all three were dissatisfied with it. The true consti- 
 tutional party, at whose head was Vaublanc, were 
 accused of secretly aiming at an extension of the 
 royal .luthority, and the formation of two legislative 
 chambers. This party, in their turn, imputed to 
 the Girondists a conspiracy against the constitution, 
 and the desire of establishing a republic. The Gi- 
 rondists cast upon the ultras of la Montague the 
 reproach of creating anarchy with a view to throw 
 odium upon the two other parties. The parti 
 de la Montague accused the constitutionalists of hav- 
 ing sold themselves to the king, and the Girondists 
 of a wish to govern in such a manner as to sacrifice 
 the country to the private interests of their own fac- 
 tion. — Hatred, mistrust and exaggeration were car- 
 ried to a lamentable excess, and it is difiicult to form 
 an idea of the passions which swayed this legislative 
 assembly. The moderates, as the first were called, 
 were the most sincere' and honest ; the Girondists 
 possessed all the talent, knowledge and eloquence \ 
 and the parti de la Montague had, in addition to 
 their audacity and violence, the support of the 
 populace of the faubourgs. 
 
 There were two principal clubs : that of the Feu- 
 illans who supported the constitution, and that of the 
 
OF MIR ABE AU. 307 
 
 jacobins whose principles tended to anarchy. The 
 Girondists fluctuated between both, and joined either 
 according to circumstances ; but they were hostile to 
 "the principles of the Feuillans, whilst they only 
 feared the excesses of the jacobins. 
 
 The king was governed by the Feuillans. The La- 
 meths and Barnave, who, with others of their friends, 
 were the leaders of this party, showed, then, as de- 
 termined a hostility to the majority in the legislative 
 assembly as they had formerly done to the court. 
 They thought of nothing but turning this majority 
 into ridicule, and bringing it into contempt. Such 
 a thing was certainly not difficult, but might lead to 
 dreadful acts of violence. They had obtained the 
 dismissal of M. de Narbonne as devoted to the Gi- 
 rondists, whilst his imputed attachment to themselves 
 had rendered him equally odious to the jacobins. 
 
 I will state my recollections of the Girondist party 
 with whom, at first, I found myself connected from 
 my intimacy with Condorcet, Brissot and Claviere. 
 
 They took me to breakfast-parties at the house of 
 a lady named, I think, d'Odun, who resided in the 
 Place- Vendome. These parties were usually attend- 
 ed by Brissot, Claviere, Roederer, Gensonne, Guadet, 
 Vergniaud, the Ducos, Condorcet, &c., w-ho met at 
 this house before they went to the assembly, and 
 here concerted their measures. But it may be readily 
 conceived that, at these meetings, there was more 
 
308 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 prating and party gossip than business done. Bris- 
 sot was the man of action ; he did every thing, and 
 \ his activity sufficed to meet every emergency. 
 
 \ Their principal object was to overthrow the courts" 
 
 by declaiming against the Austrian committee ; a sort 
 of invisible power against which they might bring 
 whatever charges they pleased. It was well known 
 that the king had secret counsels, and the queen se- 
 cret conferences ; that couriers were dispatched to 
 the princes of the blood at Vienna and Coblentz ; that 
 all the ambassadors to foreign potentates were attached 
 to the old regime, and had adhered to the constitu- 
 tion against their will ; that, in a word, the professed 
 opinion of the court was constitutional, but the real 
 opinion decidedly hostile to the constitution. — The 
 more the history of this period is studied, the stronger 
 becomes the certainty that the court wore a mask. 
 The king alone showed his face, but only in profile ; 
 and there is no doubt that he would have modified 
 the constitution, had he been able. This was, how- 
 ever, excusable, as it had already been admitted, by 
 every man of reflection, that this constitution could 
 never insure the primary object of a good govern- 
 ment ; I mean, public tranquillity. 
 
 The Girondists, persuaded that there was a conspi- 
 racy, among several foreign courts, against the French 
 people, attempted to get at the secret by the appoint- 
 ment of a ministry of their own choice, who could 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 309 
 
 dive to the bottom of the intrigue and cause its 
 failure. 
 
 But the ambition of governing was the real object 
 of their manoeuvres ; and they felt the necessity of 
 power to enable them to encounter the jacobins of 
 Robespierre, who were becoming formidable.* 
 
 M. de Lessart, the minister for foreign affairs, 
 was an honest man, tolerably constitutional, but more 
 attached to the old than the new regime. The Gi- 
 rondists wanted to get rid of him j and his corres- 
 pondence with M. de Noailles, ambassador at Vienna, 
 afforded them the opportunity. The diplomatic 
 committee, having called for and obtained copies of 
 this correspondence, were loud in their complaints. 
 They accused M. de Noailles of having debased the 
 dignity of France, by temporizing under the insulting 
 hauteur of the prince of Kaunitz ; and M. de Lessart, 
 of sanctioning further degradation, and seeming to 
 apologize for suffering the constitution to exist, in- 
 stead of assuming a proper tone of dignity, and ma- 
 king a strong declaration in its favour. 
 
 M. de Lessart had received instructions from the 
 diplomatic committee to demand a categorical expla- 
 nation of certain expressions used by the prince of 
 
 * This illustrates the dangerous consequences of political 
 excesses. A party which has made itself feared, must obtain 
 power for its own safety ; and is thus reduced to conquer or 
 perish. — Note by Dumont. 
 
310 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 Kaunitz. The explanation was given, but did not 
 prove satisfactory. It was a violent attack upon the 
 jacobins, whose excesses were represented as degra- 
 ding to the king's majesty, and setting a dangerous 
 example to the rest of Europe. This answer, sup- 
 posed to have been concerted between the king and 
 M. de Lessart, increased the enemies of the minis- 
 ters, and its ultimate effect was to raise the jacobin 
 faction into notice and power. 
 
 Alarmed at the complaints of the diplomatic com- 
 mittee, M. de Lessart thought to lull the storm by 
 resigning his office. . But Brissot prepared an act of 
 impeachment against him, upon which he was sent to 
 Orleans for trial by the high national court. 
 
 I heard this act, containing seventeen or eighteen 
 counts, read in the committee. When alone with 
 Brissot and Claviere, I made some observations on 
 the subject. I said the counts were many of them 
 one and the same thing ; others so vague that it was 
 impossible to answer them ; that they were generally 
 artful, and calculated to excite undue prejudice and 
 violent animosity against the accused ; that some of 
 them were contradictory ; and that personal invec- 
 tive ought to be carefully avoided in a criminal ac- 
 cusation, &c. I have forgotten what else I said; but 
 if, upon the whole, I was displeased with this docu- 
 ment^ I was indignant at Brissot's reply. Laughing 
 at niy simplicity, he said, in a tone of disgusting lev- 
 
OF MIKABEAU. 311 
 
 ity, " It is a necessary party manoeuvre. De Lessart 
 must positively go to Orleans, otherwise the king, 
 who is attached to him, would replace him in the 
 administration. We must steal a march upon the ja- 
 cobins, and this act of impeachment gives us the 
 merit of having done that which they would them- 
 selves do. This is so much taken from them. I 
 know that the counts are multiplied without necessity, 
 but the object of this is to lengthen the proceedings. 
 Oarand de Coulon, who is at the head of the high 
 national court, is a nice observer of legal forms ; he 
 will proceed methodically in the examination of each 
 separate count, and six months will elapse before de 
 Lessart will be able to get rid of the affair. I know 
 that he will be acquitted, because there is no evidence 
 against him ; but we shall have gained our object by 
 preventing his return to office." ^^Good God!" L 
 exclaimed, confounded at such odious principles, 
 *^ are you so deep in party machiavelism ? Are you 
 the man whom I once knew so decided an enemy to 
 subterfuge? Is it Brissot who now persecutes an in- 
 nocent man?. . . ." " But," he replied, disconcerted, 
 '^ you are not aware of our situation. De Lessart's ad- 
 ministration would destroy us, and we must get rid of 
 him at any price. It is only a temporary measure. 
 I know Garand's integrity, and de Lessart will come 
 to no harm. But we must save the country, and we 
 cannot overcome the Austrian cabinet unless the min- 
 
312 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 ister of foreign affairs be a man on whom we can de- 
 pend. Nevertheless, I will attend to your observa- 
 tions, and strike out the terms of invective to which 
 you so properly object." 
 
 From that time, Brissot fell in my estimation. I 
 did not come to a rupture with him, but ray friend- 
 ship weakened with my esteem. I had formerly 
 known him candid and generous ; he was now insidu- 
 ous and persecuting. If he had any qualms of con- 
 science — for Brissot was both a moral and a religious 
 man — they were allayed by the pretended necessity 
 of saving the state. It is in times of political faction 
 that we see illustrations of the correctness of the ideas 
 of Helvetius upon what constitutes virtue : Brissot 
 was faithful to his party, but a traitor to integrity. 
 He was excited by a feeling of enthusiasm for which 
 he was ready to sacrifice his life ; and because he 
 felt neither avarice nor ambition of ofiice, he fancied 
 himself a pure and virtuous citizen. " Look at the 
 extreme simplicity of my dwelling, and my table, 
 worthy of a Spartan — inquire into my domestic life, 
 and see if you can justly reproach me with dissipation 
 or frivolity. For two years I have not been near a 
 theatre ! ! !'' Such was the ground of his confidence. 
 He perceived not t^at party zeal, love of power, ha- 
 tred, and self-love are quite as dangerous in corrupt- 
 ing the human heart, as the thirst of riches, the am- 
 bition of office or the love of pleasure. 
 
OF MIRABRAU. 313 
 
 De Lessart's impeachment produced all the effect 
 which the Girondists desired. Their influence was 
 brought to light. They were considered all-power- 
 ful, and they really became so. The king, terror- 
 struck, threw himself into their arms. De Graves, 
 as the oldest member of the council, although he had 
 been a member of it but six days, was called upon to 
 furnish the king with a list of names to complete the 
 new council of administration ; but he feared to act 
 under any other influence than that of the party who 
 could impeach ministers and send them, for trial, 
 before the high national court. This party, there- 
 fore, had the nomination of the new councillors, and 
 the first they appointed were Duraouriez, Claviere, 
 Roland, Lacoste and Duranton. 
 
 I had become slightly acquainted with de Graves 
 in London, and I, therefore, paid him a simple visit 
 of politeness at the Hotel de la Guerre. He received 
 me in the most cordial manner. " When we used 
 to walk together in Kensington Gardens," said he, 
 *^ neither you nor I ever supposed that I should, one 
 day, be a minister. I consented to take office for 
 the sole purpose of acquiring greater experience of 
 public aifairs and of men. I have no ambition, nei- 
 ther have I a thirst for power or riches ; but I am 
 determined to try what a modest and disinterested 
 man can do, who has no other object in view than 
 the public good ." I found that, all things considered , 
 2p 
 
314 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 he dwelt at too great length, and with a little silli- 
 ness, upon his philosophy and moderation ; but he 
 was astonished at finding himself in such a sphere, 
 and tliey, who well knew him, were equally so. No 
 one was less qualified to take a part in a stormy ad- 
 ministration. He was an honest man, and his heart 
 w^as good ; he was a stranger to all party feeling, but 
 was weak both in body and mind ; he was not defi- 
 cient in acquirements and laboured hard ; but he 
 wanted energy of character and a firm will of his 
 own. Madame Roland, in her memoirs, treats him 
 with the most unjust contempt. She could see no- 
 thing in him but a bel- esprit of the drawing-room, 
 a fop in the shape of a minister ; his amenity, mild- 
 ness, and good breeding were so many blemishes, at 
 a period requiring a development of the greatest 
 energies. Certain it is that he was out of his sphere, 
 and his acceptance of office was a great error in 
 judgment. After two months of hard labour, he 
 became bewildered ; and that to such a degree, that 
 in his signatures he forgot his own name, and not 
 being aware of what he was doing, once signed him- 
 self Mayor of Pm^is. I had this fact from himself. 
 
 From my very first conversation with him, I re- 
 gretted not being sufficiently intimate to advise his 
 resignation . Accustomed to the manner of Mirabeau, 
 I now found myself at the Antipodes. De Graves, 
 having been brought into office by the Lameths, 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 315 
 
 knew not how to behave towards the Girondists. He 
 was friendly to the former and afraid of the latter ; 
 and in listening to both parties, he tried to draw a 
 diagonal between them. He suifered himself to be 
 governed by Dumouriez, while the latter was in the 
 ministry ; and from Dumouriez's well known activity, 
 which absorbed every thing, the most fortunate cir- 
 cumstance which could occur to him was to be taken 
 in tow by that minister. 
 
 I must here mention one of those singular circum- 
 stances which often designate the secret causes of 
 events. I was seriously consulted upon the choice of 
 a war minister. Such a thing is ridiculous, but it is 
 nevertheless true. The Girondists, having filled up 
 the appointments in the council, looked upon de 
 Graves with displeasure, because he had been brought 
 into oflice by the Feuillans. Brissot and his friends, 
 aware of my intimacy with Duchatelet, asked me, in 
 sober earnest, w^hether I thought him capable of fill- 
 ing the office of minister of war j what opinion I had 
 formed of his talents and principles, and how far I 
 considered him trust-worthy. No confidence was 
 placed in Condorcet's opinion on these points, because 
 Duchatelet might be deemed almost a member of his 
 family. I got off by aifecting to treat the matter as 
 a joke. I found de Graves too weak, Duchatelet too 
 violent. And in truth, the confidence which the for- 
 mer had in me, and my friendship for the latter, 
 would have placed me in an awkward predicament, 
 
316 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 had I not averted it by the natural idea of laughing 
 at Claviere and Brissot for consulting me on such a 
 subject. 1 informed Duchatelet, however, that his 
 name had been mentioned; but he begged that I 
 would contrive to spare him the necessity of refusing 
 the office, because he anticipated war^ and was anx- 
 ious to go into active service . With superior know- 
 ledge and talents, he did not yet feel himself qualified 
 to be a minister, and he never would take an office 
 unsuited to his abilities. How the Girondists could 
 reconcile with delicacy the idea of placing, among 
 the king's responsible advisers, a man who had signed 
 the first proclamation in favour of a republic, is more 
 than I can pretend to explain. When I was sure of 
 Duchatelet's refusal, I ventured an observation upon 
 this inconsistency. 
 
 I had flattered myself a moment with the hope of 
 being able, through the Chevalier de Graves, to bring 
 about a treaty of peace between the Feuillans and the 
 Girondists. These parties mutually accused each 
 other of a desire to overthrow the constitution, the 
 former to establish tv/o legislative chambers and the 
 latter a republic. I became a species of mediator 
 who could create no distrust ; I carried messages from 
 one party to the other, and endeavoured to bring 
 about conferences between them ; but my plan did 
 not succeed, because the Girondists, fearful of the 
 hostility of the jacobins, would not unite themselves 
 with the opponents of the latter. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 317 
 
 The Girondists, then masters of the cabinet, were 
 pretty well disposed towards the king. I wrote a 
 speech for Gensonne, which was a profession of faith 
 on behalf of his party. This speech was much ap- 
 plauded in the committee. Its object was to profess 
 attachment to the constitution, and point out the fac- 
 tions by which it was endangered. It was composed 
 with sufficient art to prevent strong declarations in 
 favour of royalty, and a vigorous denunication of 
 anarchy, from giving offence. Though Gensonne's 
 cold and feeble manner was very different from that 
 of Mirabeau, still he was listened to and applauded. 
 The king was much pleased ; and indeed, this was 
 the last monarchical speech made in the assembly. I 
 was well satisfied at having got this public step 
 taken by a party always suspected of republicanism. 
 But it was like a drop of oil upon the tempestuous 
 ocean. 
 
 This speech was strangely mutilated in the Moni- 
 teur. The conclusion of it had not been well receiv- 
 ed by the parti de la Montague, and the assembly 
 had not, therefore, decreed that it should be printed. 
 The Girondists already began to fear that they had 
 gone too far, and to repent of having made concess- 
 ions to the cause of royalty. I used to attend Pe- 
 tion's public dinners, at the Mairie, at which the 
 Girondists were always in strong force. At these 
 parties, the conversation was always pointed, like a 
 
318 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 battery, against the court. The Coblentz conspi- 
 racy, that of the Austrian cabinet, and the treachery 
 of the court were animadverted upon; and the 
 moderantism of the Feuillans was considered much 
 more heinous than the anarchial fury of the jacobins. 
 Chabot, of whom Madame Roland relates a trait of 
 fanaticism which she was credulous enough to be- 
 lieve sincere, used to put on his bonnet-rouge, and 
 amuse the company by low buffoonery, in ridicule of 
 the king. Many of the guests, whose names I for- 
 get, were disgustingly coarse and vulgar ; and I was 
 surprised at seeing Condorcet derive pleasure from 
 a society so much beneath him. I know nothing, in 
 a popular party, more annoying to a well-bred man, 
 than being obliged to associate with low and ill- 
 mannered persons. Such, however, was the com- 
 mencement of those disgusting manners and that 
 sans-culotism, by which France was so degraded. 
 Politeness and decorum of behaviour were aristo- 
 cratical distinctions, necessary to be trodden under 
 foot, in order to attain to equality with the rabble.* 
 
 * Four journals appeared, at that period, against the court, 
 and their success was precisely in an inverse ratio to their me- 
 rit. The Chronique de Paris, by Condorcet, written with 
 much art, with traits of covered malice and veiled satire, was 
 scarcely known except at Paris and in foreign countries'. 
 Brissot's Patriote, open and violent, but pure in style, cir- 
 culated more in the Cafes and in the provinces. Les An- 
 
OF MlRABEAtr. 319 
 
 The leaders of the Girondists were persons of a 
 difTerent description. Vergniaud was an indolent 
 man, who spoke little, and required to be stimu- 
 lated ; but when excited, his eloquence was true, 
 forcible, penetrating, and sincere. Guadet, who 
 had more vivacity, wit, and smoothness, was eloquent 
 and ingenious; always ready to appear in the tri- 
 bune and face his opponents. Brissot was always 
 writing, running about, getting up meetings, and 
 putting his machinery in motion ; but he had not 
 the gift of oratory. He was deficient in dignity, 
 ease, expression and presence of mind. Gensonne 
 was of a mild and easy temper. The eloquence of 
 Buzot was penetrating and persuasive. De Sers, 
 who was unknown to the public, but had great influ- 
 ence in their committees, was sensible, moderate, 
 and of amiable temper. He often made them revoke 
 precipitate resolutions, and was the only one who 
 could keep Brissot in order. Roederer was a man 
 
 nales Patriotiques, by Mercier and Cara, obtained great vogue, 
 from its meanly vulgar style, and was read aloud for the edification 
 of all the affiliated clubs. But the Pere Duchesne, who dishon- 
 oured literature by the most obscene and infamous style, was the 
 delight of the multitude. Such was the auction of popularity. It 
 is right to show those who embrace this career, that the prize 
 is always won by the most impudent. Condorcet, from his supe- 
 riority of talent, was a mere subaltern of the Pere Duchesne. — 
 Note by Dumont. 
 
320 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 of intellect, but extremely ignorant. He was so 
 inconsiderate and thoughtless, that he could never 
 raise himself above a subordinate part, although, in 
 capacity, he was superior to the whole of his party. 
 Condorcet never spoke in the tribune, and very 
 little in conversation. He was nick-named the mad 
 ram. He was not a party leader; for although his 
 name gave great weight to the party, he appeared 
 to me nothing more than a simple approver or de- 
 fender of their measures. His Chronique de PajHs 
 was a well written paper. The court had no greater 
 enemy than he ; and his attacks were the more dan- 
 gerous, because they were carried on in a tone of 
 refinement, decorum, and calmness, which made a 
 much stronger impression than the violent insults of 
 Brissot and the jacobins. Champfort was brilliant 
 and sarcastic, and his caustic bon-mots were in gene- 
 ral circulation. His dread of the conspirators at the 
 Tuileries, prevented him from sleeping. He always 
 fancied himself upon a mine of gunpowder about to 
 explode. Sieyes had generally the same fears ; and 
 during his dreams, saw his head rolling upon the 
 ground. 
 
 All, from a sentiment of fear, were working in 
 conjunction, at the overthrow of the monarchy ; they 
 wanted to get rid of a phantom, which kept them in 
 a constant agony of alarm. However we may ridi- 
 cule these imaginary terrors, they certainly brought 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 321 
 
 about the second revolution; The minds of men 
 were not in their right tone; and if jealousy imparts 
 an air of reality, to the most imperfect appearances, 
 and finds evidence in mere suspicion, — party spirit 
 has a similiar action upon the mind, and, like a fever 
 which inflames the brain, and presents livid spectres 
 and deformed monsters to the imagination, it creates 
 sinister and appalling visions. 
 
 2 Q 
 
322 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 I WAS taken to Roland's. This personage was sim- 
 ple in his manners, grave in his conversation, and 
 somewhat pedantic about virtue. But such kind of 
 moral ostentation, so strongly ridiculed in Necker, 
 does not displease me in a public man. Not that I 
 admire an individual who seems amazed at his own 
 probity, and, like the Doge of Genoa, is in astonish- 
 ment at finding himself existing in an age of corrup- 
 tion, but a minister who lays a degree of stress upon 
 morality, seems to me calculated to brace up the re- 
 laxed morals of society. Such affectation does not 
 indeed sit well iipon every one, but many who ap- 
 pear to turn it into ridicule hold it secretly in dread. 
 To a very beautiful person, Madame Roland uni- 
 ted great powers of intellect , her reputation stood 
 very high, and her friends never spoke of her but 
 with the most profound respect. In character she 
 was a Cornelia, and had she been blessed with sons, 
 would have educated them like the Gracchi. At 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 323 
 
 lier house I saw several committees composed of 
 ministers, and of the leading Girondists. A female 
 appeared rather out of place at such meetings ; but 
 she took no part in the discussions. She was gene- 
 rally at her desk writing letters, and seemed not to 
 notice what was going on, — of which, however, she 
 did not lose a word. The simplicity of her dress 
 did not detract from her natural grace and elegance, 
 and though her pursuits were more adapted to the 
 other sex, she adorned them with all the charms 
 of her own. I reproach myself with not having 
 personally known all her good qualities ; but I had 
 imbibed a prejudice against female politicians; and I 
 found in her, besides, too much of that tendency to 
 mistrust resulting from ignorance of the world. 
 
 Claviere and Roland, after seeing the king at the 
 council, had abandoned their prejudices, and gave 
 him credit for sincerity ; but Madame Roland did 
 not cease warning them against the illusions of the 
 court ; because she could not believe in the good 
 faith of a prince educated with an opinion that he 
 was superior to other men. She maintained that 
 both were dupes, and the most satisfactory assu- 
 rances were, in her judgment, only snares. Servan, 
 who had a sombre temper, and the most splenetic 
 pride, appeared to her energetic and incorruptible ; 
 she mistook his passions for elevation of mind, and his 
 hatred of the court for republican virtue. Lou vet, 
 
324 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 who had the same prejudices, became her hero. He 
 possessed, it is true, wit, courage, and vivacity ; but 
 I am at a loss to conceive how a virtuous woman could 
 ever mistake the libertine author of Faublas for a 
 severe republican. Madame Roland overlooked 
 every fault in those who declaimed against courtiers, 
 and believed that virtue was confined to hovels. 
 She exalted very mediocre personages, such as Lan- 
 thenas and Pache, merely because they professed the 
 same opinion. I confess that, in my estimation, all 
 this was any thing but attractive ; and it prevented 
 me from cultivating an intimacy which I should have 
 sought with eagerness, had I then known her as well 
 as I did after her death. Her personal memoirs are 
 admirable. They are an imitation of Rousseau's 
 Confessions, and often not unworthy of the original. 
 She exposes her innermost thoughts, and describes 
 herself with a power and truth not to be found in 
 any other work of the same description. A more 
 extensive knowledge of the world was wanting to her 
 intellectual development, and, perhaps, a more inti- 
 mate acquaintance with men of sounder judgment 
 than her own. None of those who visited her were 
 raised above vulgar prejudices ; and this encouraged 
 her in a disbelief of the possibility of an alliance 
 between monarchy and freedom. She looked upon 
 a king with the same horror as Mrs Macauley, whom 
 she considered as a being superior to her sex. Had 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 325 
 
 Madame Roland heen able to communicate to her 
 party her own intrepidity and energy of mind, roy- 
 alty would have been overthrown, but the jacobins 
 would not have triumphed. 
 
 Madame Roland's style was forcible and flowing, 
 but she was too fond of writing, and was constantly 
 urging her husband to do the same. Roland was the 
 minister of writers. I have often fancied that fac- 
 tions who pamphletize much, generally weaken them- 
 selves in public estimation. Among such a multitude 
 of writers, many are found who harass and irritate 
 their opponents without serving their own cause ; 
 and in such paper warfare, the party leaders acquire 
 a habit of talking instead of acting, of discussing 
 measures when they ought to be carrying them into 
 execution, and of sacrificing at the altar of vulgar 
 error, when they ought to soar above prejudice. 
 Besides, they who write to cultivate the opinion of 
 the moment, give themselves a very capricious mas- 
 ter. One good journal would have done more real 
 service to the Girondists, than the host of scribblers 
 paid by the minister of the interior to enlighten, as 
 he said, the nation and fix public opinion. 
 
 The greatest reproach that can with justice be 
 attached to Madame Roland, is, that she induced her 
 husband to publish his confidential letter to the king, 
 beginning thus: ^^ Sir, the contents of this letter 
 shall never be known but to you and me.'" — On his 
 
326 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 dismissal from the ministry^ he could not resist the 
 pleasure of a disguised revenge^ and he published his 
 letter? containing prophetic menaces, without reflect- 
 ing, perhaps, that these very menaces were likely to 
 bring about a realization of his predictions, and that 
 by pointing out publicly to the king all he had to 
 fear from the people, he was suggesting to the latter 
 what they ought to do against the king. 
 
 Claviere was appointed minister of public contri- 
 butions,* and I had the pleasure of seeing him at 
 length attain to that point of elevation he had so 
 long coveted, and for which he had struggled with 
 such stubborn ambition. He was now at the sum- 
 mit of his wishes. During ten long years he had 
 toiled to force his way into the government of 
 France; for he had all his life felt an instinctive 
 anticipation of one day becoming a minister of state. 
 When M. Necker was called to the ministry, Cla- 
 viere, then a merchant at Geneva, could not help 
 betraying the secret ambition of his heart to some 
 of his intimate friends. In 1780, he went with 
 Duroverai to Paris, about the affairs of the represen- 
 tatives. Passing, one day, the hotel of the minister 
 of finance, *^My heart tells me," said he, "that I 
 shall inhabit that hotel some day or other. ^^ He 
 laughed himself at a prophecy so unlikely ever to 
 
 * The same as minister of finance. 
 
OF MIllAlJEAU. 327 
 
 be realized, and Duroverai thought him a little de- 
 ranged in intellect. Exiled by the king of France 
 from the republic of Geneva, he went to Ireland 
 with a view of establishing a Genevese colony there ; 
 but having failed, he settled at Paris. Now, there 
 was very little probability that an individual, driven 
 from his native country by the French ministry, 
 should ever become a member of that ministry ; — 
 but men of ardent minds perceive means of success 
 in those things which, to others, would seem imposs- 
 ibilities. Claviere could write upon all financial 
 questions, and was the author of almost all Mira- 
 beau's works on finance. The confusion and disor- 
 der in this branch of the administration showed him, 
 in the distant horizon, an obscure perspective of 
 calamity, which might, at no very distant period, 
 render his services acceptable. His active imagi- 
 nation had already given birth to a grand project for 
 America. It consisted in forming a company to 
 purchase a large tract of land, and found a colony 
 upon the most liberal principles. Brissot went and 
 surveyed the country; and this voyage, of which 
 he published a relation, by no means damped his 
 ardour for liberty under republican forms. On his 
 return, he found France in a state to induce him to 
 renounce this project ; for she seemed about to re- 
 ceive that freedom which he and Claviere had in- 
 tended to seek on the other side of the Atlantic. 
 
328 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 When the states- general were on the eve of assem- 
 bling, Claviere published his work on keeping faith 
 with the public creditor, which made him very 
 popular with the holders of public stock. During 
 the session of the national assembly, he connected 
 himself with Mirabeau, whose influence he foresaw 
 would be very great, and through whom he hoped 
 to overthrow and succeed M. Necker. But he had 
 made himself many enemies among the stock-jobbers 
 and the directors of the caisse d^escompte. He was 
 the inventor of assignats, and published on this sub- 
 ject so great a number of pamphlets, that they 
 would form several volumes. Necker did not fall 
 from his high eminence, but slid, as it were, down a 
 rapid slope ; and his departure was as clandestine as 
 his return to office had been triumphant. But Mi- 
 rabeau's power was not sufficient to create a minister, 
 and Claviere remained in the crowd. It was Brissot 
 — that Brissot whom Mirabeau had so much con- 
 temned — who raised his friend to the ministry. 
 The king, who knew Glaviere's history, and was con- 
 scious of having driven him from his country, 'could 
 not at first see him without distrust. He did not, 
 however, show this feeling, and for some time 
 treated Claviere \Vith very little attention ; but this 
 coldness wore off by degrees, and at length he seem- 
 ed to transact business with his new minister, not 
 only without repugnance but with pleasure. 
 
OF MTllABEAU. 329 
 
 At Geneva, Claviere had been one of the leaders 
 of the popular party. Shrewd and penetrating, he 
 obtained the credit of being also cunning and artful. 
 He was a man of superior intellect. Deaf from his 
 youth, and deprived, by this infirmity, of the plea- 
 sures of society, he had sought a compensation in 
 study, and formed his education by associating poli- 
 tics and moral philosophy with trade. He was of a 
 timid character and devoid of personal courage, and 
 yet he found himself, all his life, in situations requir- 
 ing physical intrepidity. It seemed as if his mind 
 and constitution did not act in conjunction, for he 
 always attacked arbitrary power, though he trembled 
 at the danger which he thereby incurred. To him 
 might be applied what Madame de Flahault said of 
 Sieyes: that he was the most enterprising coward in 
 the world. He was fond of being placed in difficult 
 and uneasy situations, and yet was terrified at the 
 consequences. He used to say, that if political dis- 
 putes in a free state did harm, they did still more 
 good, because they placed every one in a situation 
 much more agreeable than the insipidity of repose. 
 He could, when he chose, praise even anarchy, and 
 find ingenious sophisms to defend it. His activity 
 was prodigious. He rose in the middle of the nighc, 
 wrote fifty pages, took an hour's repose, then followed 
 his private aifairs. His style was too diffuse ; it de- 
 noted a want of literature and elementary education. 
 2 R 
 
330 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 In spite of his republicanism, he was fond of luxury 
 and display ; and there was a singular contrast be- 
 tween his love of splendour and the severity of his 
 principles; but he never satisfied this taste for 
 sumptuous living at the expense of probity, and in 
 money matters he was always irreproachable. His 
 elevation to the ministry had an effect upon him 
 which shows that his mind was cast in no common 
 mould — he became more modest and affable, although 
 he had never been haughty or presumptuous. His 
 new dignity was perceptible only by an increase of 
 simplicity and kindness ; and in this he was very 
 different from Brissot, whose attainment of the great 
 influence he enjoyed, had turned his brain, and he 
 no longer spoke but in oracles, and could not bear 
 contradiction. 
 
 Claviere found his offices in excellent order. 
 They had been formed on the new plan, and with 
 the greatest care and trouble, by his predecessor, 
 Tarbe, upon whom he bestowed such encomiums as 
 almost seemed to hold him up to public regret. 
 This is not the characteristic of a vulgar mind.* 
 
 He possessed all the domestic virtues, and his inter- 
 course with his friends became more easy and plea- 
 
 * Claviere, seeing the immense expense of the services of the 
 nobles, who vi^ere paid according to their rank and not their 
 office, observed, " This is like getting potatoes cultivated by a 
 Dutch florist instead of a common gardener."— iV'ote byDumont. 
 
OF MIKABEAU. 331 
 
 sant when he had arrived at the height of his am- 
 bition. 
 
 He was naturally of a warm temper, and not free 
 from a species of bluntness ; but this was entirely 
 constitutional, and did not originate in pride. It 
 was like the anger of a child, soon appeased and for- 
 gotten. 
 
 He was of opinion, after he became a member of 
 the cabinet, and had opportunities of judging, that 
 the king's intentions were pure, and he did not hesi- 
 tate to say so. I have heard many disputes upon 
 this point, and I recollect one in particular, which 
 took place at Roland's in the presence of several 
 Girondist deputies. Claviere was relating that the 
 king had convicted him of being unacquainted with 
 a particular clause in the constitution ; that he had 
 pulled out his book from his pocket, and said with a 
 smile as he showed Claviere the passage, '^^ There, 
 M. Claviere, you see I am better acquainted with it 
 than you." As Claviere continued to speak in praise 
 of the king, Brissot became angry, and having begun 
 with sarcasms soon came to imputations. A very 
 angry discussion took place, and I once feared that it 
 would end in a rupture. Claviere appealed to Ro- 
 land, who was afraid either to confirm or contradict 
 what he said. He feared, should he dare to be just 
 towards the king, whose minister he was, to pass for 
 a weak man who had suffered himself to be seduced. 
 I approached Madame Roland, who was at her desk 
 
332 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 and pretended to be writing. She was pale and 
 trembling with agitation. I urged her to come for- 
 ward and put an end to the quarrel. "Do you 
 think I ought?" said she, hesitating; and then with 
 much address and suavity of manner, she managed to 
 change the conversation, and prolong it sufficiently 
 to give the two friends time to become calm. 
 
 Madame Claviere would fain have become a second 
 Madame Roland, but she possessed only in vanity 
 that which Madame Roland had in talent and cou- 
 rage. In her I saw one of the miracles of royal 
 power. When her husband was appointed to the 
 ministry, she was in a dying state; a nervous fever 
 left scarcely any hopes of saving her life ; — but the 
 physician said, ''^ I can now answer for her cure, and 
 in four days, you shall see her leave her bed to show 
 off at the hotel of public contributions." This pre- 
 diction was verified, and the joy and novelty of her 
 situation Operated with better effect than all the 
 remedies that medical skill could devise. 
 
 Characters are easily drawn when you have to 
 satisfy your readers only; but to the writer who sub- 
 mits them to the test of his own recollections, and is 
 anxious to give a faithful account of the persons 
 whom he best knew, nothing is more difficult. The 
 human heart is such a medley of good and evil, mo- 
 tives are so hidden, and each individual so complica- 
 ted, that there is always something incommunicable. 
 A certain portion must escape observation ; every 
 
OF MIRABEAU. ''333 
 
 thing cannot be given an account of, and it is im- 
 possible to transmit the whole of what is felt. 
 
 I have now only general recollections ; facts, 
 speeches, anecdotes — a thousand singular details of 
 this stormy period have gone from my memory. 
 Had I kept a journal of this sojourn at Paris, placed 
 as I was in the midst of a political party, and intimate 
 with all the ministers, I should now have materials 
 for an interesting work. I seldom went to the legis- 
 lative assembly, whose members were more incohe- 
 rent and prejudiced than those of the constituent 
 assembly. There was no Mirabeau ; but each party 
 had distinguished speakers. Amongst the Giron- 
 dists, Guadet was noticed for his talent of seizing a 
 favourable opportunity, and his powers of sophistry ; 
 Gensonne for his acuteness and subtlety ; Vergniaud, 
 who appeared only on grand occasions, was roused 
 from his habitual indolence, by the impassioned 
 workings of his scorching and terrible eloquence.* 
 
 * The Girondists may be considered in two points of view. 
 As avowed enemies of the king and constitution, they incurred 
 the most merited reproaches; as enemies of Robespierre and 
 the jacobins, their loss must be deplored, and their destruction 
 involved France in the most dreadful misfortunes. As subjects 
 of a monarchy they were highly criminal ; as republicans they 
 had honourable qualities ; and if the historian blames their con- 
 duct prior to the 10th of August, he will comparatively esteem 
 them after that period, and deplore both their elevation and 
 their fall. — Note by Dumont. 
 
334 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 I HAVE reserved for this chapter, the most important 
 point, the only one indeed belonging to history ; I 
 mean the declaration of war against Austria. 
 
 The memoirs of Duraouriez upon his own adminis- 
 tration are generally very correct, and yet there are 
 reticences in them. I much regret, on this account, 
 not having kept notes. 
 
 Brissot had long been desirous of a rupture with 
 Austria. His Cabinet Jlutrichien excited his ima- 
 gination, and open hostility appeared to him prefera- 
 ble to that state of obscurity and intrigue which then 
 existed. The court of Vienna scarcely condescend- 
 ed any longer to give pretences to its manoeuvres, 
 and yet was not determined to go to war. I am per- 
 suaded that a display of firmness, moderation and de- 
 corum with that court, would have averted the storm. 
 The constitution was yet a species of unknown, a 
 new being which created alarm ; tact and address 
 were required to make it respected and insure its 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 335 
 
 pardon for the crime of innovation; but unfortunate- 
 ly it was always made formidable, and the violence 
 of the jacobins rendered it odious. Had the Giron- 
 dists shown themselves desirous of conciliating the 
 good will of the king, they would have disarmed the 
 whole of Europe, rendered the emigrants ridiculous, 
 and maintained the peace of the country. There 
 was so little unison between the other powers, and so 
 little disposed were they to act in conjunction, that 
 with some slight diplomatic manoeuvring France 
 would have had nothing to fear. Such was the 
 opinion of the moderate party, and I am convinced 
 they were right. 
 
 Brissot and Dumouriez thought otherwise. The 
 former w^as so violent that I once heard him propose 
 to disguise a body of French soldiers as Austrians 
 and make them attack some French villages during 
 the night ; and that on receiving intelligence of this 
 attack, a motion should be made in the legislative 
 assembly and the question of war carried by a decree 
 of enthusiasm. Had I not heard him make this 
 proposal, I should not have believed it. Dumouriez 
 was a less impetuous and more able statesman. He 
 also wished for war , but he found in the conduct of 
 Austria herself, a sufficient justification of hostilities, 
 and an imprudent answer from the court of Vienna 
 put into his hands a reasonable pretence for their 
 commencement. I can affirm that his colleagues were 
 
336 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 not of the same opinion. One day they had dined 
 at the hotel of the war minister, and impatient of 
 knowing their determination, L went there at six 
 o'clock in the evening. Dumouriez was gone, but 
 the table was covered with maps of the Netherlands. 
 He had explained to them his plan of campaign. 
 They looked serious and embarrassed. De Graves had 
 a personal dread of the responsibility, and Roland 
 and Claviere were neither of them warriors. The 
 former gave the preference to negociations which 
 brought with them no risk ; the latter, who knew the 
 state of the finances, was aware that they had neither 
 money nor credit, that the taxes and imposts were 
 considerably in arrears and their collection difficult. 
 Brissot was radiant with joy, and said that war alone, 
 by showing who were the friends and who the ene- 
 mies of the constitution, could place liberty on a sure 
 foundation and detect the perfidy of the court. De 
 Graves anticipated danger from the army ; he feared 
 the desertion of the superior officers, for the most of 
 the military men of any talent had already emigrated. 
 Neither, however, dared oppose Dumouriez, who by 
 the ascendency of his energetic mind, obtained all he 
 wished. He saw abundant resources for carrying on 
 the war, and represented, in the strongest light, the 
 necessity of counteracting the plans of the House of 
 Austria and other sovereigns of Europe, before they 
 had time to concert the means of carrying them into 
 
OP MIRABEAU. 337 
 
 execution. Both parties in the council were equally 
 active. I remember that in reply to the objection of 
 the superior officers deserting, Duchatelet said that 
 if so, they would be replaced by the subalterns, who 
 were much better qualified. " There is the same 
 difference between them," he said, " as between 
 amateurs and artists ; and if all the old officers left 
 us, we should only derive benefit from it. There 
 would be more emulation in the army, and we should 
 find generals among our private soldiers." 
 
 From dining often at Claviere's, Roland's and De 
 Graves's, where I had met Dumouriez, I had become 
 intimate with him. These dinner parties were en- 
 livened by that gay and brilliant wit, which the 
 French, when assembled in convivial intercourse, 
 retain even under the most difficult circumstances, 
 and which was natural to men satisfied with them- 
 selves and flattered by their elevation to the highest 
 offices in the state. The present hid the future from 
 their sight ; the cares of office were for a short time 
 forgotten, and each was settled in his hotel as if he 
 were destined to occupy it for ever. Madame Ro- 
 land, in allusion to the magnificence of the apart- 
 ments, observed, that in her eyes it was only the 
 splendour of a public inn. Louvet and Dumouriez, 
 by their wit, conversation, and talents, were the life 
 and delight of these parties. I remember, one day, 
 Dumouriez was giving an account of some deeds of 
 2s 
 
338 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 gallantry of which he was himself the hero, w^hen 
 Claviere said to him archly, " Take care what you 
 say, general, you are making Baptiste smile.'' Bap- 
 tiste was the valet- de-chaYnhre whom Dumouriez has 
 rendered so famous by the mention he makes of him 
 in his memoirs. The general relished a joke and 
 made himself very merry at the austerity of his col- 
 leagues. His vivacity was sometimes nearly allied to 
 levity, and his age and office required a somewhat 
 more serious turn. He found himself connected with 
 pedants, and soon became disgusted with their repub- 
 lican morality. No confidence ever existed between 
 him and his colleagues, but he managed to avoid dis- 
 cussion, and a smart repartee often put an end to, or 
 prevented disputes. He had ready wit, a piercing 
 look, and prompt decision. Whilst he was minister, 
 his bon-mots were circulated and quoted. He heard 
 all that was said in company ; and guessed that which 
 he did not- hear: by which means he contrived to 
 make his presence entertaining to the king, whilst 
 that of his heavy colleagues was tedious and disgust- 
 ing. But amid his jests and merry conceits in the 
 council, he steadily pursued his plan and acquireda 
 decided ascendency. 
 
 One day he begged I would breakfast with hira. 
 He w^anted to read over with me that famous report 
 to the king in council, in which he set forth the 
 wrongs of Austria towards France. This produc- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 339 
 
 tion, which he had dictated to his secretary in great 
 haste and amid constant interruption, was very in- 
 correct in style, and he wished me, on that account, 
 to go over it with him. In his frequent digressions, 
 I perceived his enmity to the prince of Kaunitz, the 
 pleasure he would derive from humiliating him, and 
 his antipathy to the Austrian alliance. ^^Now," 
 said he, after we had done reading the report, ^^the 
 service I want you to do for me, is to write a speech 
 for the king, for I am not an adept in the style of 
 dignity and moderation. '^ " Very willingly," I 
 replied, *^ if the conclusion be not in favour of war; 
 that is to say, if your object be simply to make the 
 assembly authorize the king to declare war in the 
 event of his being unable to obtain full satisfaction 
 from the emperor." — "The conclusion," said Du- 
 mouriez, "can be settled only in the council. In 
 the meantime, write the speech, point out the rea- 
 sons of complaint we have against Austria, and we 
 will then see about the rest." I mentioned the cir- 
 cumstance to Duroverai ; the speech was written 
 and a conclusion added to it, of which I have not 
 kept a copy, but the substance of which was that 
 the king, after exhibiting reasonable grounds of com- 
 plaint, demanded the sanction of the assembly to 
 declare war against the king of Bohemia and Hun- 
 gary, unless the latter put an immediate stop to the 
 assembling of large bodies of French emigrants with- 
 
340 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 in his territories, and gave satisfactory explanations 
 relative to certain official notes, &c. When I next 
 saw Dumouriez, he informed me that the council 
 had determined upon, not a conditional, but a posi-' 
 tive and immediate war, and that the low countries 
 were to be attacked before they could be put in a 
 state of defence ; that the speech I had written for 
 the king had been read to him in council, but he 
 had found it too long, and had composed one himself 
 much more in unison with the result of their delib- 
 eration. 
 
 It is known how the legislative assembly, after 
 having prudently deferred their decision in order to 
 take time to consider so serious a proposal as the de- 
 claration of war, on a sudden, at a single evening 
 sitting, and after only two or three deputies had spo- 
 ken, voted a decree which plunged France and 
 Europe into a gulf of misery. 
 
 It may be said that Brissot and Dumouriez were 
 merely the organs of the national will, as there were 
 only seven or eight votes against war; but it ap- 
 peared to me very certain at the time, that if they 
 had adopted the opinion in favour of delay, they 
 would have been supported by an absolute unan- 
 imity. People's minds were floating in uncertainty; 
 and the opinion of every one was influenced by the 
 decision of the council. I heard influential men, 
 who, the day before, trembled at the idea of war, 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 341 
 
 declare it to be absolutely necessary. Condorcet 
 disapproved of it, yet he voted for it ; so did Cla- 
 viere, and Roland, and de Graves and many others 
 under the same feelings. The inconsistency between 
 opinion and action, which so often occurs when a 
 government decides, or when the leaders of a party 
 have taken their determination, is inconceivable to 
 those who have not closely studied the workings of 
 popular passions. 
 
 But in making this recital, I had forgotten my 
 fellow-travellers, to whom it is now time to return. 
 Duroverai fell ill a few days after our arrival, and 
 was confined to his room for nearly a month. M. 
 de Talleyrand had resumed his former mode of life 
 and I saw him but seldom. After Dumouriez had 
 obtained the portfolio of foreign aifairs, the Giron- 
 dists pressed him to appoint an embassy to England 
 and to select, as ambassador, a man who would inspire 
 confidence; for it was expedient, by strengthening 
 those ties of amity which had been somewhat re- 
 laxed by the events of the revolution, to prevent 
 Great Britain from taking part in a continental war. 
 Talleyrand appeared the man best qualified for the 
 mission. It is true that the Girondists were preju- 
 diced against him, but — and this was a full com- 
 pensation — he was quite out of favour at court. 
 Unfortunately the law did not allow of his accepting 
 an appointment from the king, and this proved an 
 
342 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 obstacle which there was some difficulty in overcom- 
 ing. At length an expedient was hit upon ; which 
 was to appoint an ambassador who would be satisfied 
 with the honour of the title and consent to be gov- 
 erned by Talleyrand. Chauvelin, who was very 
 young and had plunged into the revolution with all 
 the ardour of a boy, was proposed by Sieyes. The 
 appointment was so far above his expectations that 
 he immediately assented. The Girondists by an 
 excess of precaution, wanted to get Duroverai ap- 
 pointed counsellor of legation, but there were difficul- 
 ties which prevented the title from being conferred 
 upon him. He had the advantage of being well 
 acquainted with England, its customs and language, 
 and such a choice must naturally prove agreeable to 
 the English government, because Duroverai, natu- 
 ralized in Ireland and in the receipt of a pension from 
 the Irish government, might be considered as more 
 attached to Grealt Britain by a permanent interest 
 than to France by a precarious public appointment ; 
 and it would seem evident that he had accepted such 
 appointment in the French legation, only in the 
 persuasion that the mission was essentially of a paci- 
 fic nature, and that its sole object was to strengthen 
 the ties of friendship between the two nations. 
 
 It was this naturalization and this Irish pension 
 which formed the obstacle against Duroverai's ob- 
 taining the title of counsellor of legation. The diffi- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 343 
 
 culty was insurmountable and they were obliged to 
 give him the office without the title. Talleyrand, 
 who had already been able to appreciate the benefit 
 of his counsels, ardently desired to have him as a co- 
 adjutor. In order that he might be accredited, at 
 least indirectly, his name was mentioned in a letter 
 to Lord Grenville, as well as in the instructions giv- 
 en to Chauvelin. All these arrangements occasioned 
 much delay ; and the slowness with which the embas- 
 sy to England seemed to be formed, led to complaints 
 out of doors. When at length all appeared termi- 
 nated, a scruple of self-love seized upon Chauvelin. 
 He perceived that a great title was conferred upon 
 him, but that he was deprived of the real power; and 
 he found himself just like a young man sent to a 
 foreign court under the care of a couple of tutors. 
 Such a thing appeared to him so humiliating that he 
 refused to go. Talleyrand exhausted all his powers 
 of persuasion in vain, bat Duroverai was more suc- 
 cessful. He opposed self-love to self-love. He 
 represented to Chauvelin, that by such an appoint- 
 ment at his age, he was already raised to the highest 
 diplomatic rank, to which, in the ordinary course of 
 events, he certainly would not have attained for 
 many years. In the midst of these delays, Dumou- 
 riez, who began to be out of patience, sent for me. 
 "I do not understand," said he, ^^ the conduct of 
 your friends. The members of the embassy have 
 
344 RECOLLECTlOlSfS 
 
 been appointed this fortnight past, and they do not 
 yet think of going. M. de Talleyrand is amusing 
 himself — M. Chauveiin is sulky — and M. Duroverai 
 is driving a bargain. Do me the favour to tell them 
 that if by to-morrow evening they are not on the 
 road to England, another embassy shall be appointed 
 and shall start the day after before noon. This is 
 my ultimatum. ^^ I immediately ran to find the par- 
 ties, and as they were somewhat dispersed, it was 
 several hours before I could bring theoi together. 
 They all knew that Dumouriez would keep his word ; 
 for he had a relative whom he was desirous of ap- 
 pointing to the English embassy, their nomination 
 having been a mere friendly concession to Claviere 
 and the Girondist party. These circumstances had 
 their due weight, and the time of departure was de- 
 finitively fixed. 
 
 Two days after, at four o'clock in the morning, the 
 whole legation left Paris in two carriages. Besides 
 the persons already named, we had Garat and Reyn- 
 hart. We alternately changed carriages, and had 
 thus the pleasure of giving variety to our journey, 
 which passed very gaily. Chauveiin was very en- 
 tertaining when his self-love was not in play. What 
 a numberof curious anecdotes did I hear, and how 
 valuable would they have been, if I had taken the 
 precaution of collecting them in writing ! I thought 
 only of enjoying the pleasant company I was in, the 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 345 
 
 fine weather and the conversation of Garat? in whom 
 I found more candour, and true simplicity, and kind- 
 ness of heart than I had expected from one who had 
 spent his whole life in the very furnace of literary 
 bel-esprit^ which is, in general, so unfavourable to 
 the qualities of the heart. Literature, so neglected 
 at Paris for two or three years past, and so foreign 
 to the taste of the society of that period, often formed 
 the subject of our conversations. Garat was not a 
 man of deep learning, but brilliant and amiable. He 
 narrated beautifully j and he now felt gay and happy, 
 after having been so long and so closely confined to 
 his literary labours at Paris, amid the lamentable 
 scenes of the revolution. The delight of leisure and 
 fresh air, together with the expectation of seeing 
 that England which he did not know, but admired by 
 anticipation, imparted an elastic and delightful bril- 
 liancy to his imagination. " He is a schoolboy going 
 home for the holidays," said M. de Talleyrand. On 
 our arrival at Dover, Garat got upon the coach-box, 
 and I followed his example. Having adjusted his 
 spectacles, he began to examine every thing with as 
 eager a curiosity as if we had just arrived in the 
 moon. The most trifling differences affected him to 
 a singular degree. He uttered the most amusing ex- 
 clamations on the small cottages, the little gardens, 
 the cleanliness which every where existed, the beau- 
 ty of the children, the modest appearance of the 
 2 T 
 
346 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 country girls, ami the clean and decent apparel of 
 the inhabitants of the country villages ; in a word, 
 this appearance of ease and prosperity, which formed 
 so strong a contrast with the poverty and rags of the 
 peasants of Picardy, struck him forcibly. I was 
 proud of doing the honours of the country, and I 
 thought I was again looking at these things for the 
 first time, so greatly did my seeing him admire them 
 increase their impression upon me. " Ah ! what a 
 pity," said he, " what a pity, if ever this fine coun- 
 try should be revolutionized ! When will France be 
 as happy as England?" His enthusiasm was fed 
 with every thing and increased spontaneously ; but 
 it was that kind of enthusiasm which evaporates in 
 words and does not become concentrated. 
 
 Although I often saw Garat during his residence 
 in England, and we lived on very familiar terms in 
 our circle at the embassy, I never contracted any 
 particular intimacy with him. There was something 
 in our characters which -prevented them from har- 
 monizing with each other. He seemed to me a 
 kind, easy, amiable man, full of good and philan- 
 thropic intentions. I sought him out for the pleasure 
 of his conversation, and thought no more of him 
 when he was gone. He amused but did not interest 
 me. He had planned a history of the revolution, 
 and he meditated upon this event solely as regarded 
 the manner of relating it in his book. " What think 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 347 
 
 you Garat sees in the revolution of the 10th of Au- 
 gust?" said M. de Talleyrand to me; ^^ only a fine 
 page for his history." When he became an actor 
 in the scenes of the revolution, and played the part 
 of minister of justice, in which he incurred such 
 general censure, I am convinced that his heart bled 
 at the evils with which he had associated himself. 
 He wanted courage, — was weak and vain ; and he 
 was rash enough to undertake an office beyond his 
 strength, which act of imprudence and vanity he 
 expiated by the remorse of his whole life. If there 
 be men who are detested for the ill they commit, 
 there are others who ought to be pitied for the evil 
 to which they lend themselves. What he can never 
 justify, is his defence of the massacres of the 2nd of 
 September, and no thoughtlessness or levity of cha- 
 racter can palliate such an act of weakness. It was 
 then thought that the sanguinary monsters would be 
 softened by making them appear less ferocious than 
 they really were ; that absolution for the past con- 
 ferred a right to give them lessons in humanity for 
 the future. It was like saying to them, ^^ give not 
 way to the despair of ferocity. We are disposed to 
 believe you innocent, in order that you may not be 
 led to commit new crimes !" 
 
 If between Garat and me there existed no ten- 
 dency to friendship, this was not the case with Gal- 
 lois, who had accompanied M. de Talleyrand in his 
 
348 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 first visit to London, and remained there during our 
 excursion to Paris. The most intimate confidence 
 was established between us, and we sought each 
 other's society for the sole pleasure of being together. 
 Gallois is the least accessible to vanity of any literary 
 Frenchman I ever knew. He loves study for his 
 own enjoyment, and not as a means of making a 
 figure. He considers legislation and political econ- 
 omy as sciences which ought to be cultivated for the 
 happiness of mankind, and has never appeared to 
 look upon them as a road to fortune or fame ; at 
 least, fortune and fame are with him but secondary 
 objects — mere quiet accessories which do not excite 
 the passions. With an affectionate heart, and much 
 mildness and elegance of manners, he is a man of 
 strong mind and correct conduct. He says little in 
 a numerous company, but becomes animated in a 
 small circle of friends. I had made him acquainted 
 with all my particular friends, who became his, and 
 preserved the same feelings towards him after he had 
 left England. Though he had taken ^ no pains to 
 make acquaintances, he had gained the esteem of 
 many. I afterwards found him the self same being 
 at Paris, wise for himself and irreproachable for the 
 whole world, after he had safely weathered the 
 storm of the revolution. 
 
 This embassy, whose sole object was to obtain a 
 settled and permanent peace with England, was very 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 349 
 
 coldly received by the court, and almost with insult 
 by the public. Chauvelin was libelled in several 
 papers and accused of having worn the disguise of a 
 poissarde in the famous affair at Versailles of the 6th 
 of October. A circumstance which, at first, did him 
 a great deal of harm, was the ill-judged zeal of Perry 
 of the Morning Chronicle, who thought he was doing 
 the French embassy a service by pompously enume- 
 rating the individuals of whom it was composed. 
 
 He saw, in the selection of its members, an extra- 
 ordinary mark of attention on the part of the French 
 government. First there was M. Chauvelin, then 
 M. de Talleyrand, then M. Duroverai, next M. 
 Garat a distinguished man of letters, M. Gallois, re- 
 markable for talents and knowledge, M. Reynhart 
 secretary of legation, and M. de Talleyrand's grand- 
 vicar ; and all these distinguished individuals formed 
 a legation of writers and literary men such as was 
 never before seen. The simple truth is, that M. de 
 Talleyrand, fond of the society of men of talent, had 
 contrived to get two or three to accompany him to 
 England ; and in procuring the appointments of Ga- 
 rat and Gallois, he had thought only of himself, and 
 had no public object in view. But the number and 
 talents of the persons whose nomination Perry men- 
 tioned as a compliment paid to England, raised the 
 suspicion and mistrust of a great portion of the pub- 
 
350 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 lie. It was imagined that the real object of all this 
 was the propagation of revolutionary systems and 
 opinions, and the members of this embassy were 
 looked upon as missionaries come to make converts. 
 Chauvelin had soon occasion to perceive the coolness 
 of the court. One day, Pitt placed himself between 
 the king and the French ambassadorj and turned his 
 back upon the latter in the most pointed manner. 
 Chauvelin, annoyed at this, moved so as to turn wil- 
 fully upon Pitt's toes, and pressed so hard as to force 
 the English minister to draw further back. Romilly, 
 on being consulted about the numerous injurious 
 paragraphs which appeared in the ministerial jour- 
 nals under all the forms which malignity could invent 
 when they, who direct the politics of the paper, 
 point out some object to hunt down and persecute, 
 gave them the draft of a strong denial of every ca- 
 lumnious accusation, with a challenge to prove any 
 of the revolutionary acts or intentions imputed to 
 them, and a threat to prosecute the authors of the 
 libels. But Lord L . . . . advised them to despise 
 these attacks, which would only be consolidated and 
 rendered of more importance by answering them. 
 One imprudence which they committed, was to meet 
 the advances of the opposition. They visited Mr 
 Fox and Mr Sheridan, soon saw no other society than 
 these eminent men and their friends, and this proved 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 351 
 
 a bar of separation between them and the ministerial 
 party. 
 
 I remember that, soon after their arrival in Lon- 
 don, during the fine weather, when Ranelagh was in 
 high fashion and much frequented, I dined one day 
 at Chauvelin's, when it was proposed to finish the 
 evening at this place of fashionable resort. It is a 
 large round hall surrounded with open closets, like 
 the boxes of a theatre, with an orchestra in the cen- 
 tre. The company walk all round, and enter the 
 closets or boxes for refreshments. On our arrival, a 
 buzz of voices repeated, " there is the French em- 
 bassy.'' Looks of curiosity, certainly not of a benevo- 
 lent kind, were directed from all sides upon our bat- 
 talion, consisting of eight or ten individuals; and we 
 soon found that we should have the place entirely to 
 ourselves, for all withdrew on our approach, as if 
 they feared contagion even in the atmosphere which 
 surrounded us. Our battalion became the more re- 
 markable because it stood in a vacuum which it in- 
 creased as it moved forward. One or two bold 
 individuals came and spoke to M. Chauvelin and M. 
 de Talleyrand. A moment after, we saw a man 
 shunned from another cause ; this was the Duke of 
 Orleans, whom every one seemed to avoid with the 
 most sedulous care. Annoyed and disgusted at being 
 the object of this unpleasant attention, we separated 
 
352 RECOLLECTIONS v 
 
 for a short time, and I got into the crowd, where I 
 heard several persons giving, in their own way, an 
 account of this French embassy. We withdrew 
 shortly after, M. de Talleyrand no way moved at 
 what had occurred, but M. Chauvelin much affected. 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 353 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 It is not my intention to give an account of the di- 
 plomatic occurrences connected with M. Chauvelin's 
 mission. All that I know concerning them is the 
 result of confidential communication; and were I 
 even base enough to betray such confidence, I should 
 find it difficult to give a connected narrative. But 
 I can positively state that the nature of the mission 
 was wholly pacific ; its object was to draw the ties 
 of amity closer betwixt the two nations. Such were 
 the instructions given to the members of the embassy, 
 and great injustice was done to the latter in imputing 
 to them secret views and base intrigues with the 
 malcontents. I lived so constantly with Duroverai, 
 dined so often with M. de Talleyrand and M. Chau- 
 velin, and was so confidentially intimate with both, 
 that nothing could have been done without my per- 
 ceiving it, and I have the most positive certainty that 
 nothing which could give the least ground of alarm 
 was going on in secret. The embassy were much 
 2 u 
 
354 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 alarmed at the reserve of the English ministers and 
 the formal coldness of the cabinet. All that my 
 memory has retained of this period is the recollection 
 of a delightful society, some very pleasant dinner 
 parties, and the happiness of finding myself in France 
 and England at the same time — that is to say, enjoy- 
 ing alternately a select party of either nation. 
 
 Garat was not entirely idle in England j he wrote 
 a refutation of a manifesto against France by the 
 government of the Low Countries. In this work of 
 Garat's, the French revolution was justified and the 
 violence by which it was attended lamented as a de- 
 plorable misfortune. 
 
 In France, meanwhile, the animosity of the dif- 
 ferent factions against the court became more viru- 
 lent every day; the Girondists made their attacks 
 insidiously, the Jacobins by open force. The first 
 events of the war with Austria were unfortunate, 
 and this was imputed to the treachery of the execu- 
 tive power. On the 13th of June, Roland, Claviere 
 and Servan were dismissed from ofiGice ; on the 20th, 
 the invasion of the Tuileries took place, and the king 
 was threatened and insulted in his palace; and 
 twenty days after, namely, on the 10th of August, 
 this same palace was stormed by the Marseillais. 
 
 The invasion of the 10th of August was another 
 of those striking occasions on which the king, by 
 suddenly changing his character and assuming firm- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 355 
 
 Mess, might have recovered his throne. The mass 
 of the French people were weary of the excesses of 
 the Jacobins, and the outrage of the 20th of June 
 roused the general indignation. Had he acted with 
 vigour, used force against force, and then taken ad- 
 vantage of the first moments of the victory he must 
 have gained, to treat the Jacobins and Girondists as 
 enemies — for they having, in a thousand instances, 
 violated the constitution, could no longer have ap- 
 pealed to it in their defence ; — had he ordered the 
 clubs of the Jacobins and Cordeliers to be shut up, 
 dissolved the assembly, and seized upon the fac- 
 tious, that day had restored his authority. But 
 this weak prince, unmindful that the safety of his 
 kingdom depended upon the preservation of his own 
 authority, chose rather to expose himself to certain 
 death than give orders for his defence. 
 
 When this event took place, M. de Talleyrand 
 was at Paris. He had quitted London some weeks 
 previous, and had asked me to accompany him ; but 
 this time I was prudent enough to decline a journey 
 which, being without a personal object, would have 
 given me the appearance of dabbling in politics and 
 state intrigue ; for I was so well known that I could 
 no longer indulge in my curiosity and roving pro- 
 pensities without giving rise to such inferences. I 
 had good reason to congratulate myself upon this act 
 of prudence, when, in my peaceful abode, I reflected 
 
356 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 upon the horrors in the midst of which I should have 
 found myself, and the unfavourable surmises to which 
 my conduct might have led, among my friends in 
 England. M. de Talleyrand required all his dex- 
 terity and means of persuasion to obtain from Danton 
 a passport to return to London, after the events of 
 the 10th of August. Had he remained a few days 
 longer at Paris, he would have been comprised in 
 the destruction of the constitutionalists, who, in an 
 almost incredibly short space of time, fell under the 
 axe of the guillotine. 
 
 In the month of November of the same year, 1792, 
 I was called to Paris by an object of duty. This 
 was no idle, wandering journey, but a service de- 
 manded by the magistrates of Geneva ; and I under- 
 took it without hesitation. 
 
 Savoy was threatened with an invasion by France, 
 and a French army was on the frontiers of that state. 
 Geneva had taken the precaution, adopted in time 
 of war, of applying to the canton of Berne, as was 
 the custom, for a reinforcement of troops. The 
 Bernese had isent several regiments to strengthen 
 the weak garrison of Geneva, and enable it to sup- 
 port the double fatigue of service necessary in a 
 fortified city surrounded by the troops of foreign 
 belligerent powers. The government of France, 
 then conducted by Roland, Claviere, Servan and a 
 committee of the legislative assembly, had affected 
 
OF MIRABEAU, 357 
 
 to take the alarm at this call for Swiss troops. They 
 pretended to perceive hostility to France in a pre- 
 caution only intended by Geneva to make its neu- 
 trality respected ; and, without considering that the 
 Swiss were themselves allies of France, and that 
 their co-operating in the protection of Geneva, 
 could not therefore tend to any act of hostility, 
 became loud in their complaints, and instructed 
 their general, M. de Montesquiou, to call upon the 
 Genevese magistrates to send back these troops, and, 
 in the event of a refusal, to lay siege to Geneva. In 
 the first moment of alarm, the Scyndics of Geneva 
 wrote to M. Tronchin, the accredited agent of the 
 republic, to engage Duroverai and me to proceed to 
 Paris, and endeavour to arrange matters with the 
 French ministry, with whom our connection was 
 known. Duroverai being obliged to attend to his du - 
 ties at the French embassy, I determined to go to Paris 
 alone, but had the prudence to take precautions 
 against improper surmises, by making the English 
 government acquainted with the object of my jour- 
 ney. M. Tronchin laid the letter from the Scyn- 
 dics before Lord Grenville, and easily obtained for 
 me the permission I requested. He likewise de. 
 manded that a passport might be delivered to me, 
 which would contribute to ray safety in France ; 
 but not having been naturalized in England, this 
 passport was refused. 
 
358 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 One of my fellow travellers in the stage coach 
 from London, was a quaker, whose name I have for- 
 gotten. Though of a more communicative temper 
 than most of his brethern, he did not make me ac- 
 quainted with the object of his journey to Paris. I 
 discovered it at the municipality of Calais. We 
 went there together, and he pulled out a passport, 
 which had been sent to him in Ireland, from France. 
 It was in Roland's own hand writing, and contained 
 a particular injunction to aid and assist the bearer, 
 whose journey to France was connected with an ob- 
 ject of beneficence and humanity. The quaker then 
 hinted to me that he came in the name of his breth- 
 ren, who had deemed the juncture favourable for 
 making proselytes in France. I know not whether 
 a quaker can diverge from truth, and did so in the 
 present instance, in order to conceal some other po- 
 litical object which he dared not mention ; but I knew 
 Roland's enthusiasm sufficiently well, to think that 
 he might have deemed republican France worthy of 
 adopting quaker simplicity, and I was also aware that 
 Brissot was in raptures at a doctrine which repre- 
 sented true equality and all the primitive virtues. 
 
 On my arrival at Paris, I found that Genevese af- 
 fairs bore rather a favourable aspect. Montesquieu 
 felt ashamed of attacking a free city, which had only 
 used its right of self-preservation; and in his corres- 
 pondence with the ministers, had defended the re- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 359 
 
 public, although he publicly used towards it threats 
 which he did not mean to carry into execution. He 
 had inspired the government of Geneva with confi- 
 dence, and was himself their counsel. The negoci- 
 ations were open, and conducted with much candour 
 on both sides. He represented to the magistrates 
 the necessity of sending away the Swiss troops as a 
 first concession, without which he could do nothing 
 for them ; but, at the same time, he would give them 
 every possible guarantee, establish their indepen- 
 dence in the strongest manner, and publicly admit 
 that there was nothing in their conduct hostile to 
 France. The first treaty to which this led them, 
 was not ratified at Paris, because it appeared too 
 favourable to the republic; and Montesquiou had 
 been instructed to make the most unreasonable de- 
 mands. When I arrived at Paris, a second treaty 
 was then waiting for ratification. Claviere, who had 
 incurred the bitterest reproaches, as the supposed 
 author of these measures against his native country, 
 seemed anxious to clear himself to me. He told me 
 that he had not concurred in the decree hostile to 
 the Syndics of Geneva, as on the day it was deter- 
 mined upon, he had been prevented by ill health 
 from attending the council. I seemed willingly to 
 listen to his excuses, and observed that a favourable 
 opportunity now presented itself, of sheltering him- 
 self from all future reproach, by obtaining a ratifi- 
 
360 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 cation of the treaty. I also succeeded in bringing 
 Brissot to the same way of thinking, although he had, 
 in his Patriate Francais, been very violent against 
 the Lilliputian republic, as he termed it. I repre- 
 sented to Vergniaud, Guadet, Gensonne, and Condor- 
 cet, the indignation felt in England at this attack 
 made by republicans upon the weakest of republics 5 
 and one which had done the greatest honour to free- 
 dom. Others also contributed to soften the ministers 
 and their party, and some consideration was still 
 shown towards the Swiss. A few days after, the 
 treaty was proposed at the legislative assembly, rati- 
 fied without a dissenting voice, and the independence 
 of the Genevese republic acknowledged by the most 
 formal act. 
 
 The person who, during this crisis, rendered the 
 greatest services to Geneva, was M. Reybaz, who 
 had succeeded M. Tronchin as minister of the re- 
 public. Every thing in the council and the conven- 
 tion, was done so abruptly, that measures were 
 adopted and decrees passed, before he was aware of 
 their being in contemplation ; and it was much more 
 difficult to repair an evil than it would have been to 
 anticipate it. His connexion with Claviere gave 
 him some influence, but the Girondists fancied that 
 he did not display a proper zeal in the cause of free- 
 dom, because, when he voted with them, he had 
 often blamed their measures. On the present occa- 
 
OF MIRABEAU, 361 
 
 sion, he showed great activity in finding out what 
 passed in the diplomatic committeej in forming a 
 party there, and in getting votes. I regret having 
 forgotten, or rather not sufficiently recollecting many 
 particulars which I had from him, and which suffi- 
 ciently depicted the character, ignorance, and wick- 
 ed folly of the convention. He informed me that the 
 true secret of the affectation of anger towards Gen- 
 eva, displayed by the council, was their wanting a 
 pretence for seizing the city and arsenal, in order 
 to have a strong hold, which they could use against 
 Savoy, and against the Swiss, whom they wished to 
 intimidate. The prudent delays of Montesquiou, 
 had counteracted the perfidious designs of these min- 
 isters, who wanted to obtain possession of Geneva, 
 without the disgrace of having ordered such a mea- 
 sure, and who could have wished that their general 
 had taken it by a coup- de-main, even though they 
 should disavow his act, and dismiss him from their 
 service. But they would have retained their con- 
 quest. Such was the nature of the acts of vigour 
 which the French government of that period expect- 
 ed from its generals. There was at Geneva a party 
 of discontented citizens who inveighed bitterly 
 against the aristocracy and the government, and 
 Montesquiou would only have had to second this 
 party, present himself as the supporter of the true 
 democrats; and as an excuse to his government for 
 2 V 
 
362 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 this act, he had only to write a flaming letter to state, 
 that as the avenger of freedom, he had destroyed a 
 nest of aristocrats at Geneva. 
 
 During the negociation, the Genevese council sent 
 to Paris a citizen named Gasc, formerly very intimate 
 with Claviere, and who, as a warm admirer of the 
 French revolution, could insinuate himself more 
 easily into the good graces of the members of the 
 French government. Gasc was a man of talent*, a 
 most expert arguer, with great sang-froid. His 
 heart was never troubled by the operations of his 
 head. I was at a loss to conceive how this precise 
 mathematician, so devoid of warmth and sensibility, 
 could have imbibed so ardent an enthusiasm in favour 
 of French republicanism. Claviere related to me a 
 scene at his house, in which Gasc proved himself a 
 first-rate actor. His being an agent of the Genevese 
 government was sufficient to stamp him as an aristo- 
 crat, and the success of his mission required his get- 
 ting rid of such an imputation. One day at a grand 
 dinner given by Claviere to the Girondists, Lebrun 
 the poet recited an ode to liberty with such lyric 
 transport, that he produced a similar excitement in 
 his auditors, and each strophe was received with 
 cries of admiration. Gasc, upon whose mind the 
 finest poetry had no effect, and who like Terrasson 
 would have said — what does that prove ?— most pro- 
 bably felt the greatest contempt for this enthusiasm. 
 
OF MIKABEAU. 363 
 
 His phlegmatic calmness was soon remarked, and it 
 gave the company a very unfavourable opinion of 
 him. He remained silent and motionless in his arm- 
 chair until, at the conclusion of the poem, he seemed 
 suddenly roused from his apathy, and as if carried 
 away by a feeling he could not control, threw him- 
 self into the poet's arms and, his voice trembling 
 with emotion and tears in his eyes, appeared a thou- 
 sand times more affected than any one present. The 
 company were struck with astonishment at a sen- 
 sibility, compared to which their own transports 
 seemed but as a transient ebullition of the moment. 
 On leaving Claviere's hospitable board, the Giron- 
 dists present, who were members of the diplomatic 
 committee, took him with them, listened to him 
 with the greatest confidence, and disposed other 
 members in his favour. He knew how to combine 
 the interests of the lesser republic with those of the 
 greater ; and they were so struck with the wisdom 
 of his conversation, and the perspicuity of his reason- 
 ing, that after he had obtained his audience, they 
 invited him to remain and discuss the affairs of Eu- 
 rope with them. This occurred to him three or 
 four days following ; nor was it the first instance I 
 saw in France of such communicative disposition, 
 such exuberant confidence. I recollect, during the 
 existence of the first assembly, having, one day, at- 
 tended the constitution-committee with Duroverai — 
 
3^4 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 I mean the committee who drew up the constitutional 
 laws for the assembly ; — after having explained our 
 business, which related to the guarantee of France 
 for the execution of the Genevese treaty, the mem- 
 bers politely begged that we would remain and dis- 
 cuss with them the subject of their labours, observing 
 that the presence of enlightened men was always an 
 advantage to them, and that there were no secrets in 
 their deliberations. 
 
 The business which called me to Paris being set- 
 tled, I prepared to return to London, and dining 
 one day with Claviere, I informed him of my intended 
 departure. Having, after dinner, remained talking 
 to Gensonne, a member of the diplomatic committee, 
 the latter asked me if I could give him any informa- 
 tion concerning one Grenus, a native of Geneva, who 
 had come to Paris upon a mission diametrically op- 
 posed to mine, and had several times attended the 
 committee to demand, in the name of a numerous 
 party of Genevese, a union of Geneva with France. 
 ^^You think,*' said he, "that the treaty just ratified 
 is conclusive, but I must warn you that there is a 
 counter-plot going on, and our government does not 
 yet despair of incorporating your republic with that 
 of France. Grenus has pointed out the mode of 
 effecting it. There will be a rising of the natives 
 who call themselves egalitiens, or tiers- etat. These 
 will be assisted by the peasantry, who are more nu- 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 365 
 
 merous than the citizens. The latter will, no doubt, 
 defend the magistrates ; and daring the conflict, the 
 natives will claim the assistance of the French troops, 
 who will appear at the gates of the city as if for the 
 purpose of preventing bloodshed. The gates will 
 then be opened to the French, who will immediately 
 make themselves masters of the city, and proclaim 
 the union of Geneva with France. Such," con- 
 tinued Gensonne, ^^is the plan which Grenus has 
 proposed. It has been neither refused nor accepted. 
 For my own part, I prefer that your republic should 
 remain as it is ; for I do not know what we should 
 gain by this union, and I can well understand what 
 you would lose. Do not betray my name, but make 
 use of this secret, which I thought it my duty to re- 
 veal to you, as you deem most advisable for the in- 
 terests of your country. We have hitherto consid- 
 ered Grenus as one of those adventurers with whom 
 it is dangerous to make arrangements ; but he will be 
 allowed to act, and if he succeeds and we once be- 
 come masters of Geneva, we shall aifect to think that 
 we were called thither by the whole body of the 
 citizens, and you may easily imagine that no atten- 
 tion will be paid to the claims of such a man. 
 
 In possession of this alarming secret, I went to 
 M. Reybaz to concert with him on the means of 
 averting the threatened evil. The first step to be 
 taken was to acquaint the government of Geneva 
 
366 RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 with the plot of Grenus and his associates. It ap- 
 peared to M. Reybaz expedient that I should pro- 
 ceed thither. I had formerly been popular with 
 the natives, and had rendered them services more 
 than adequate to counterbalance, at least, the influ- 
 ence of Grenus over the honest and well-intentioned 
 members of this class of the people. 
 
 Having determined upon ray immediate departure, 
 I called upon M. Gasc, to whom I communicated my 
 intention and secret. He told me that as he left the 
 diplomatic coinmittee, he saw Grenus enter it, and 
 that he suspected this individual of having come to 
 Paris for the purpose of traversing his negociation. 
 — Grenus, who had an estate in the country of Gex 
 and was mayor of Great Sacconex, about a league 
 from Geneva, had an evident interest in bringing his 
 country under the French domination. He could 
 not fail by such a service to obtain the confidence of 
 the French government, and with it the mayoralty 
 of the city he had delivered into their hands. But 
 his true motive was to humiliate the Genevese, par- 
 ticularly the upper classes, of which he was a mem- 
 ber by birth, but from which his character and 
 conduct had alienated him. In politics as in reli- 
 gion, no enemies are more bitter than apostates. 
 Grenus was the demagogue of the rabble, and de- 
 rived continual amusement from the alarm which he 
 inflicted upon the Genevese government, and the 
 
OF MIRABEAU. 367 
 
 aristocrats, among whom were his own cordially 
 hated relations. He took no pains to conceal the 
 atrocity of his mind, no less intense from its being 
 combined with pleasantry. A sardonic laugh played 
 upon his features each time he succeeded in causing 
 an insurrection among the peasants, and the days of 
 alarm and terror in the republic were to him days 
 of rejoicing. Surrounded by his low and crapulous 
 associates, he exulted in the disorders he caused, 
 and never failed to attend the great council of the 
 two hundred, of which he was a member, to enjoy 
 the fright attendant upon the tumult he had raised. 
 Gasc, better acquainted than I with this Crispin- 
 Catalina, had no difloiculty in believing Gensonne's 
 communication, and thought, with M. Reybaz, that 
 my immediate presence at Geneva was necessary to 
 counteract the influence of Grenus over the natives, 
 and induce the magistrates and citizens to adopt 
 such measures as might be deemed most expedient 
 under existing circumstances. 
 
 THE END. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 address to the king for the removal of the troops. 
 
 Sire, 
 
 By calling upon the assembly to testify their confidence 
 in your majesty, you have anticipated their most anxious 
 desire. 
 
 We are come, sire, with respectful humility to acquaint 
 your majesty with the alarms which agitate us. They 
 regard not ourselves, sire ; — but had we even the weak- 
 ness to fear on our own account, we are certain that your 
 royal indulgence would still induce you to encourage and 
 console us ; and further, that in blaming us for doubting 
 your good intentions, you would, at the same time, listen 
 to our complaints, remove their cause, and place the na- 
 tional assembly upon a sure and unequivocal footing. 
 
 Sire, we implore not your protection ; — it would be an 
 offence to your justice. We have become a prey to fears 
 which — and we say it with confidence — have their source 
 in the purest patriotism, the interests of our constituents, 
 the public tranquillity, and the happiness of a beloved 
 2 w 
 
370 APPENDIX. 
 
 monarch, who, in smoothing for us the path to felicity ,^ 
 deserves himself to. walk in it without obstacle. 
 
 The impulses of your own heart, sire, form the safeguard 
 of your people ; and when we perceive troops approach- 
 ing on all sides — when we see camps formed around us, 
 and the metropolis surrounded by soldiers, we exclaim 
 in astonishment : — Does our sovereign suspect the fidelity 
 of his people ? If so, would he not make known his 
 doubts to us their representatives ? What mean these 
 menacing preparatives ? Where are the enemies of the 
 state and king — where the rebels and leaguers against 
 whom this formidable array is brought? . . . .The unani- 
 mous voice of the metropolis and the whole kingdom 
 answers : — We cherish our king, and we bless heaven 
 for the gift of his affection ! 
 
 Sire ! your majesty's confidence has been imposed 
 upon, under pretence of the public weal. 
 
 If they who counselled our king had confidence enough 
 in their' principles to expose them before us, — it would 
 lead to the most noble manifestation of truth. 
 
 The state has nothing to fear but from false principles, 
 which lay siege even to the throne itself, and respect not 
 the confidence of the purest and most virtuous of princes. 
 And by what base means, sire, have you been brought 
 to doubt the love and affection of your subjects ? Have 
 you been prodigal of their blood ? Are you cruel or 
 implacable ? Have you prostituted the name of justice ? 
 Do the people impute to you their misfortunes ? — is your 
 name ever associated with their calamities ? Have you 
 
APPENDIX. 371 
 
 been told that the people are impatient of your yoke, — 
 that they are tired of the sceptre of the Bourbons ? — No! 
 No ! You cannot have been told so ; — calumny is not so 
 absurd — -she colours her atrocities with a semblance of 
 probability. 
 
 Your majesty has been able to perceive, of late, the 
 greatness of your influence over your faithful subjects. 
 Subordination has been restored in your lately agitated 
 metropolis; — the prisoners, liberated by the multitude, 
 have voluntarily resumed their chains ; — and public order, 
 which, had force been employed, might have deluged the 
 city with blood, was restored by a single word of your 
 mouth. But that word was one of peace : — it was the 
 expression of your own sentiments, which it is the glory 
 of your subjects never to resist. How noble is the exer- 
 cise of such influence, — which was that of Louis IX, 
 Louis XII, and Henry IV, and is the only influence wor- 
 thy of your majesty. 
 
 We should deceive you, sire, did we not add, as the 
 present state of the kingdom imperiously calls upon us to 
 do, that this kind of ascendency is now the only one pos- 
 sible to be exercised in France. The French people will 
 never suffer the best of kings to be deceived, and, for sinis- 
 ter purposes, advised to deviate from the noble line of 
 conduct which he himself has traced. You have called 
 upon us, sire, to concur with your majesty in framing 
 our constitution, and thereby operating the regeneration 
 of the kingdom ; and the national assembly now approach 
 your throne solemnly to declare that your wishes shall be 
 
372 APPENDIX. 
 
 accomplished, and the promises you have held out to the 
 nation fulfilled — nor shall snares, difficulties, or terrors, 
 delay our progress or intimidate our courage. 
 
 Our enemies may affect to say : " But what danger is 
 there in having troops?. .What mean these complaints, 
 when the deputies declare they are not accessible to dis- 
 couragement ?". . . . 
 
 The danger, sire, is pressing, universal, and beyond 
 all the calculations of human prudence. 
 
 There is danger for the inhabitants of the provinces. 
 When once alarmed for our freedom, we know of nothing 
 that could check this danger. Distance alone magnifies 
 and exaggerates every thing, increases the public uneasi- 
 ness, misrepresents, and gives an envenomed character to 
 facts. 
 
 There is danger for the metropolis. With what feel- 
 ings would a populace, struggling against poverty and the 
 cruel pangs of hunger, see the remains of their scanty 
 food disputed by a fierce soldiery ? The presence of 
 troops will excite the populace, lead to riots, and produce 
 a general ferment, whilst the very first act of violence 
 exercised on the people, under pretence pf maintaining 
 the public peace, may be the commencement of a horri- 
 ble series of misfortunes. 
 
 There is danger for the troops themselves. French 
 soldiers, so near the focus of discontent, and naturally 
 participating in the passions and interests of the people, 
 may perchance forget that an engagement has made them 
 soldiers, and remember only that nature made them men. 
 
APPENDIX. 373 
 
 The danger, sire, threatens that work which it is our 
 first duty to make perfect, and which will not be fully 
 successful or really permanent, until the people are con- 
 vinced that it is the offspring of freedom. There is, 
 moreover, contagion in the effects of passion. — We are 
 but men ; — a want of confidence in ourselves, or the 
 dread of evincing weakness, may carry us far beyond our 
 mark — we may be beset with violent and desperate coun- 
 sels ; and reason and wisdom deliver not their oracles in 
 the midst of tumult, disorder, and bloodshed. 
 
 The danger, sire, is more dreadful still ; and you may 
 judge of its extent, by the fears which have brought us 
 to the foot of your throne. Great revolutions have re- 
 sulted from causes of much less importance ; and the 
 overthrow of more nations than one has been announced 
 by signs less ominous and less formidable. 
 
 We beseech you, sire, not to give credence to those who 
 speak contemptuously of the nation, and represent the 
 people to your majesty, as it suits their purpose, — some- 
 times as rebellious, insolent and seditious — at others, as 
 submissive, docile under the yoke and ready to bow their 
 heads to receive it. Both are equally at variance with 
 truth. 
 
 We are ever ready, sire, to obey your commands, be- 
 cause you issue them in the name of the law ; and our 
 fidelity is as unbounded as it is above suspicion. 
 
 We are equally ready to resist the arbitrary commands 
 of those who make an undue use of your majesty's name, 
 because thev are enemies to the law. This resistance is 
 
374 APPENDIX. 
 
 imposed upon us by our fidelity alone, and we shall always 
 be proud of the reproaches cast upon us for our firmness 
 in this our line of duty. 
 
 We conjure you then, sire, in the name of our country 
 — in the name of your own happiness and future fame, 
 to send back these soldiers to the quarters whence your 
 majesty's advisers induced you to call them. Remove, 
 sire, we beseech you, this artillery intended for the de- 
 fence of your frontiers ; — and, above all, send away those 
 foreign troops — those allies whom we pay to defend and 
 not to oppress us. Your majesty does not require such 
 troops. Why should a monarch adored by twenty-five 
 millions of Frenchmen, surround his throne, at great 
 expense, with a few thousand foreigners ? 
 
 Let the afiection of your subjects, sire, be your best 
 and only guard. The deputies of the nation are called 
 upon to consecrate with you the high attributes of royalty, 
 upon the immutable basis of popular freedom. But in 
 fulfilling their duty — in following the dictates of their 
 reason and their feelings, would you expose them to the 
 suspicion of having yielded to fear ? Ah ! the authority 
 with which every heart spontaneously invests you, is 
 alone pure and unmoveable ; it is a just return for your 
 benefactions, and is the immortal heritage of princes like 
 your majesty. 
 
APPENDIX. 375 
 
 No. II. 
 
 draft of an address proposed to be made by the 
 national assembly to their constituents. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 Your deputies to the states-general, too long kept in 
 painful inaction, but from motives which you approved, 
 were about to commence their proceedings by the only 
 means which seemed to them compatible with your rights 
 and interests. 
 
 The majority of the clergy had declared in favour of 
 the union ; a respectable minority of the nobles evinced 
 the same desire, and every thing seemed to announce the 
 happy day which was to give birth to the constitution 
 and freedom of France. 
 
 Events with which you are acquainted, have deferred 
 this union, and the aristocracy have agarin the courage to 
 persist in a separation, of the danger of which they will 
 but too soon be convinced. 
 
 Alarm has been spread but too rapidly among us ; the 
 metropolis has been thrown into consternation, and even 
 the place in which we are now assembled has experienced 
 a commotion, against whose effects we have seen precau- 
 tions taken which, if they be considered necessary, are 
 not the less alarming. All this renders it incumbent 
 upon us to guard against the misfortune and disturbances 
 
376 APPENDIX. 
 
 to which, under such extraordinary circumstances, the 
 general uneasiness may give rise. 
 
 The revival of the states-general, after so long an 
 interval, the agitation by which it luas preceded, the 
 object of this convocation, so different from the motives 
 which called your ancestors together ;^ the pretensions 
 of the nobles, their adherence to gothic and barbarous 
 laws, — but above all, the truly extraordinary means 
 adopted to obtain the king's interference, have excited a 
 powerful feeling throughout the nation ; and the whole 
 kingdom is in such a state of effervescence that those who 
 would fain use violence, when prudence and conciliation 
 are becoming every day more necessary, are not only 
 unworthy of beiiig considered as Frenchmen^ but de- 
 serve to be treated as incendiaries. 
 
 From these motives, gentlemen, we consider it our 
 duty to present you with a faithful picture of our real situa- 
 tion, in order to caution you against the fears and exag- 
 gerations by which injudicious zeal or criminal intentions 
 might seek to increase your alarm. 
 
 On the day when, with a pomp rather threatening than 
 imposing, we were called upon to appear before an abso- 
 lute and severe monarch, instead of the supreme chief 
 of the state, escorted, as we could have wished, by his 
 virtues alone, — on that very day, we had from his own 
 Mps the noblest evidence of his vast designs in our favour, 
 
 * The words in Italics are extracted from the king's speech. 
 \ From the king's speech . 
 
APPENDIX. 377 
 
 and of his truly generous and magnanimous intentions. 
 Even the forms least adapted to conciliate our minds, 
 shall not make us insensible of the real sentiments of our 
 king. However we may lament his erroneous opinion 
 of us, we shall never have to reproach ourselves with 
 injustice. Woe to those who would represent us as dan- 
 gerous! We might become so on the day of retribution, 
 but it would be to them alone. 
 
 And how could the king's sentiments excite our fears? 
 We are, it is true, but little acquainted with his designs, 
 but have we not confidence in his wisdom, and is not his 
 own interest at stake ? Are not these our securities ? Do 
 the aristocracy ever cease to be the real enemies of the 
 throne ? Is it not their sole ambition to reduce the public 
 authority to fractions ? Are they not endeavouring, by 
 bad laws, to cement their prerogatives, their privileges 
 and their usurpations ? And is it not an acknowledged 
 truth, that the people require but justice, and the great 
 alone seek power ? The aristocracy have inflicted the 
 greatest of evils upon a long succession of sovereigns, 
 whose very virtues they have often rendered doubtful, 
 but truth has at length arrived at the foot of the throne, 
 and the king, who has declared himself the father of his 
 people, will disseminate his benefactions over the whole 
 community. He will not uphold the titles of spoliation 
 which have been but too long respected. It is to preju- 
 dice, obsession, the respect perhaps which even the 
 strongest minds sometimes entertain for old customs, and 
 the hope of bringing about the union more promptly, 
 2x 
 
378 APPENDIX. 
 
 that we must attribute the declarations in favour of the 
 separation of the orders, of their veto, of feudal rights, — 
 those remnants of barbarous ages — and of those ruins of 
 feudality which would impair the solidity, beauty and 
 proportions of the edifice weare called upon to raise. 
 
 The history of all ages, and particularly that of our 
 own nation, shows us that whatever is true, just, and 
 necessary, cannot be long withheld on the plea of being 
 illegal, false or dangerous. Prejudices wear out, and are 
 ultimately destroyed by discussion. Our confidence is 
 therefore firm and tranquil. You will share in it, gen- 
 tlemen, and you will never believe that the persevering 
 claims of a great people can be overruled by a few par- 
 ticular illusions, adopted by a small number becoming 
 daily smaller. You will feel that the triumph of public 
 order, when expected to result from measures of wisdom 
 and prudence, ought not to be risked by inconsiderate 
 agitation. It is for you, gentlemen, to assist us with 
 your knowledge and counsels, in the necessary task we 
 have undertaken. You will every where preserve calm- 
 ness and moderation ; you will be the promoters of order, 
 subordination, and respect for the law and its ministers ; 
 you will repose the plenitude of your confidence in the 
 unshaken fidelity of your representatives, and you will 
 afford them the most effective assistance. 
 
 It is amongst a corrupt and venal class of the commu- 
 nity that our enemies will endeavour to excite tumult 
 and insurrection, which would only embarrass and delay 
 the settlement of the great question. ^'Behold the 
 
APPRNDtX. 379 
 
 fruits of liberty ! behold the effects of democracy !" 
 will they not cease repeating, who are not ashamed to re- 
 present the people as a furious herd, dangerous when un- 
 fettered ; — who feign not to know that this same people, 
 always calm and measured when they are truly free, are 
 never violent and unruly, except in constitutions which 
 degrade in order to render them despicable. How un- 
 fortunately numerous are those cruel men, who, indiffer- 
 ent to the fate of the people, whom they always make 
 the victims of their rashness, create events whose infal- 
 lible consequence is to strengthen the hands of authority, 
 which, when preceded by terror, is always followed by 
 servitude ! Alas ! how fatal to liberty are the acts of 
 those who endeavour to maintain it by agitation and re- 
 volt ! Do they not perceive that they increase the pre- 
 cautions from which the fetters of the people are forged ? 
 that they arm calumny with a pretence at least — terrify 
 pusillanimous minds, and bring into action those incendia- 
 ries, who, having nothing to lose, become auxiliaries but 
 to prove themselves dangerous enemies ? 
 
 The number of our enemies, gentlemen, is greatly ex- 
 aggerated. Many who are not of our way of thinking, 
 deserve not this odious title. Facts often follow words, 
 and enmity too readily imputed gives rise to real hostility- 
 We have fellow-citizens, who, like us, are seeking 
 the public good, but expect to find it in a different 
 road from that which we follow. These individuals, 
 borne away upon the stream of inveterate prejudice, ari- 
 sing from education and early habits, have not strength of 
 
380 APPENDIX. 
 
 mind enough to strive against the current which carries 
 them along. Seeing us in a new situation, they fancy 
 that our pretensions will become exaggerated ; impressed 
 as they are with the idea that liberty is only a pretence 
 for licentiousness, they are in alarm for the safety of 
 their property. Let us treat all these men with respect 
 and kindness ; pity some, give others time to discover 
 their error, undeceive all, and not change into the quar- 
 rels of self-love or the war of factions, those differences 
 of opinion inseparable from the weakness of the human 
 mind, and from the multitude of aspects presented by 
 questions so complicated, whose very diversity is useful 
 to the public weal, inasmuch as it leads to discussion and 
 minute investigation. 
 
 Already, by peaceable means, have we made many 
 valuable converts. There passes not a day which brings 
 not into our ranks some one who had before kept from 
 us. There passes not a day on which the horizon of 
 truth does not widen, and the dawn of reason break upon 
 the minds of some who have hitherto been dazzled 
 rather than enlightened by its strong glare. What 
 would have been the consequence, if, in despair of the 
 power of truth, we had cast off for ever those whom in 
 vain we called upon to join us. We should have de- 
 stroyed even the friends we possess among the two first 
 orders of our fellow-citizens ; and should perhaps have 
 raised an insuperable bar to a union so advantageous to 
 France, as that which is now the object of our contem- 
 plation. But our present being a pledge of our future 
 
APPENDIX. 381 
 
 moderation, they must come to the conclusion that our 
 acts are guided by justice ; and it is in their name as 
 well as our own that we recommend to you that modera- 
 tion of which we have already reaped the fruits. 
 
 How glorious will it be for us and the country, if 
 this great revolution cost humanity neither crime nor 
 tears ! How often have the smallest states been unable 
 to acquire even the shadow of liberty, except by sacri- 
 ficing the blood of their most valuable citizens ? A 
 neighbouring nation, too vain of its constitution, and 
 despising the defects of ours, suffered from convulsions 
 and civil wars during more than a century, before her 
 laws were consolidated. America herself, whose tute- 
 lary genius seems now to reward us for the freedom 
 which she owes to us, did not enjoy this inestimable 
 blessing until she had encountered dreadful reverses and 
 doubtful and bloody contests. But we, gentlemen, shall 
 see a similar revolution brought about among us by the 
 concurrence only of wisdom with patriotism ! Our con- 
 tests are simple discussions, our enemies excusable preju- 
 dices, our victories not cruel, and our triumphs shall call 
 forth the blessings of those who are at last subjugated. 
 History but too often records human actions, more suited 
 to the ferocity of wild beasts than to man ; and here and 
 there she notices a hero ; but we may be allowed to hope 
 that we are beginning an era in the history of mankind, 
 as brothers, born for the mutual happiness of each other, 
 who agree even in their differences ; for their object is 
 the same, and their means only of pursuing it, different. 
 
382 APPENDIX. 
 
 Woe to him who would recklessly corrupt so pure a re- 
 volution, and trust the fate of France to the chance of 
 uncertain events, when its destinies are not doubtful — if 
 we suffer ourselves to be guided by justice and reason. 
 
 When we consider the happiness which twenty-five 
 millions of human beings must derive from a legal con- 
 stitution, substituted for ministerial caprice, from unani- 
 mity of will, wisdom in legislation, reform of abuses, 
 decrease of taxation, economy in finances, moderation in 
 punishments, consistency in the courts of justice, the abo- 
 lition of a host of feudal rights which cramp industry 
 and mutilate the human faculties ; from that great system 
 of liberty, in short, which reposing upon the municipali- 
 ties open to free election, gradually raises itself to the 
 provincial governments, and ultimately receives its per- 
 fection from the annual return of the states-general ; — 
 when we consider all the happy consequences of the res- 
 toration of this vast empire, we cannot but feel that it 
 would be the blackest of crimes against humanity, to op- 
 pose the destinies of our nation, to push it back into the 
 abyss and keep it down with the weight of the chains 
 which it wore for so many ages. Such a misfortune 
 could not occur except from those calamities always at-* 
 tendant upon the tumult, licentiousness, crimes and abom- 
 inations of civil war. Our fate depends upon prudence ; 
 and violence alone could throw doubt upon, or perhaps 
 annihilate that freedom which reason has promised us. 
 
 Such are our sentiments, gentlemen ; it was our duty 
 to make them known to you, that we might be honoured 
 
APPENDIX. 383 
 
 by their conformity with yours. It was important to 
 convince you that in pursuing our great patriotic object, 
 we did not deviate from the right path. 
 
 Such as you knew us when you entrusted your best 
 interests to our keeping, such shall we ever remain, 
 strengthened in the resolution of co-operating with our 
 monarch, not in measures of only transient advantage, 
 but in framing the constitution of the kingdom. We are 
 determined that each of our fellow- citizens, to whatever 
 class he belongs, shall enjoy the innumerable benefits of 
 nature and freedom ; that the suffering inhabitants of the 
 country shall be relieved, a remedy applied to the dis- 
 couragement by which poverty stifles virtue and industry, 
 and our laws, the same for all ranks and orders, made 
 our common safeguard and protection. [We shall show 
 ourselves to be not less inaccessible to the projects of 
 personal ambition than to the debasement of fear. We 
 ardently wish for concord, but will never purchase it 
 with the rights of the people. The only reward we ask 
 for our labours, is to see all the children of this immense 
 country unite in the same sentiments, happy in the gene- 
 ral happiness, and cherishing their common father, 
 whose reign is destined to be the era of the regeneration 
 of France. 
 
384 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. III. 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE CONSTITUENTS. 
 
 The deputies who from the national assembly, suspend, 
 for awhile, their proceedings, in order to make known 
 the wants of the state to their constituents, and, in the 
 name of the country in danger, call upon them for their 
 patriotic co-operation. 
 
 We should betray the interests you have confided to us, 
 did we conceal from you that the nation is now on the 
 eve of either rising to a glorious destiny or sinking into 
 an abyss of misery. 
 
 A great revolution, which, a few months since, ap- 
 peared chimerical, has just been effected in the midst of 
 us all ; but its progress having been accelerated by events 
 upon which no human foresight could calculate, it has, by its 
 impetuosity, dragged down with it the whole fabric of the 
 ancient system of government, and without giving us 
 time to prop up those parts which it might have been ad- 
 vantageous to preserve, or replacing those which it was 
 right to destroy, it has suddenly surrounded us with a 
 huge heap of ruins. 
 
 In vain have our exertions supported the government. 
 It has become completely powerless. The public reve- 
 nue has disappeared, and credit cannot raise its head at a 
 
APPENDIX. 383 
 
 period when there is perhaps more to fear than to hope. 
 In letting itself down, this main-spring of social strength 
 has relaxed all around it; men and things, resolution, cou- 
 rage, and even virtue. If your assistance restore not rap- 
 idly the body politic to life, this most admirable revolu- 
 tion will be lost ere it be complete ; it will return to chaos, 
 whence so many noble works have brought it forth, and 
 they who must ever preserve the invincible love of free- 
 dom, will not even leave to bad citizens the degrading 
 consolation of a return to slavery. 
 
 Ever since your deputies have, by a just and necessary 
 union, destroyed all rivalry and clashing of interests, the 
 national assembly has not ceased its exertions in framing 
 a code of laws applicable to all classes and conditions, and 
 the safeguard of all. It has repaired grievous errors, 
 broken the bonds of feudal servitude which degraded hu- 
 manity, diffused joy and hope through the hearts of our 
 husbandmen — those creditors of the soil and of nature 
 so long discouraged and branded with shame — re-estab- 
 lished that equality between Frenchmen, so long disa- 
 vowed — consisting in a common right to serve the state, 
 enjoy its protection, and deserve its favours ; in short, it 
 is gradually raising upon the unchangeable basis of the 
 imprescriptible rights of man, a constitution mild as 
 nature, lasting as justice, and whose imperfections, arising 
 from the inexperience of its authors, may be easily 
 amended. 
 
 We have had to contend against the inveterate preju- 
 dices of ages, and much uncertainty always attends great 
 2y 
 
386 APPENDIX. 
 
 political changes. Our successors will be enlightened by 
 our experience, for we have been obliged to tread in a 
 new path with only a glimmering light of the principles 
 which were to guide us. They will proceed peaceably, 
 for we shall have borne the brunt of the tempest. They 
 will know their rights and the limits of every power in 
 the state ; for we shall have recovered the one and fixed 
 the other. They will consolidate our work, and surpass 
 usj — this will be our reward. Who now would dare 
 assign a term to the greatness of France ? Who would 
 not, on the contrary, elevate its prospects, and glory in 
 being one of its citizens ? 
 
 Nevertheless, the state of our finances is such that our 
 social edifice threatens to fall before we can consolidate it. 
 The failure of the revenue has diminished the currency 
 of the realm ; a host of circumstances has drained the 
 kingdom of the precious metals, and all sources of credit 
 are dried up ; — the general circulation is on the eve of 
 stoppage, and if your patriotism assist not the govern- 
 ment in its finances — which embraces every thing, army, 
 navy, subsistence, arts, commerce, agriculture and na- 
 tional debts — France will be rapidly precipitated towards 
 a horrible catastrophe, and will receive no laws save 
 from disorder and anarchy ! . . . . 
 
 Freedom will have shone upon us but an instant, to 
 disappear forever, leaving us the bitter consciousness 
 that we are unworthy of her ! To our own eternal 
 shame, and to the conviction of the whole universe, we 
 shall owe our evils solely to ourselves. With so fertiie 
 
APPENDIX. 387 
 
 a soil, so fruitful an industry, so flourishing a trade, and 
 such extensive means of prosperity, the embarrassments 
 in our finances are comparatively trifling. The whole of 
 our present wants would scarcely cover the expenses of 
 a war campaign ; and is not our liberty much more pre- 
 cious than those mad struggles in which even our victories 
 have been fatal ? 
 
 The present crisis once past, it will be easy to better 
 the condition of the people ; and no more burthens need 
 be imposed upon them. Reductions which will not 
 reach luxury and opulence, reforms which will not affect 
 the fortunes of any, easy conversions of imposts, and an 
 equal <iistribution of taxes, will, by the equilibrium of 
 receipts and disbursements, establish a permanent order 
 of things ; and this consolatory prospect is formed upon 
 exact calculations — upon real and well-known objects. 
 On this occasion hope is susceptible of demonstration, be- 
 cause the imagination is rendered subservient to arithmetic. 
 
 But to meet our actual wants, restore motion to the 
 machinery of government, and cover for this year and 
 the next, the 160,000,000 of extraordinary expenditure — 
 the minister of finance proposes, as a means which, in 
 this emergency, may save the monarchy, a contribution 
 proportionate to the income of each citizen. 
 
 Pressed between the necessity of providing immedi- 
 ately for the wants of the state, and the impossibility of 
 deeply investigating the plan proposed by the minister, 
 in so limited a time, we have refrained from long and 
 doubtful discussions — and seeing nothing in the minis- 
 
388 APPENDIX. 
 
 ter's proposal derogatory from our duly, we have confi- 
 dently adopted it, in the persuasion that you would do 
 the same. The general affection of the nation towards 
 the author of this plan, seems to us the pledge of its 
 success, and we have trusted to the minister's long ex- 
 perience as a surer guide than new speculations. 
 
 The fixation of the amount of their several incomes is 
 left to the conscience of the citizens themselves ; thus, the 
 success of the measure depends solely upon their patriot- 
 ism, and we are therefore warranted in entertaining no 
 doubt of such success. 
 
 When a nation ascends from the depths of servitude to 
 the glorious regions of freedom — when policy is about to 
 concur with nature in the immense development of its 
 high destinies ; — shall vile passions oppose its grandeur — 
 or egotism arrest its flight ? Is the safety of the state of 
 less weight than a personal contribution ? 
 
 No, such an error cannot exist ; — the passions them- 
 selves yield not to such base calculations. If the revolu- 
 tion, which has given us a country, has left some French- 
 men indifferent, it will be their interest, to maintain at all 
 events, the tranquillity of the kingdom, as the only pledge 
 of their personal safety. For it is certainly not in a gen- 
 eral tumult — in the degradation of public authority — when 
 thousands of indigent citizens driven from their work, 
 and their means of subsistence, shall claim the sterile 
 commisseration of their brethren— when armies shall be 
 dissolved into wandering bands armed with swords and 
 irritated by hunger ; — when property sfeall be threatened, 
 
APPENDIX. 389 
 
 lives no longer safe, and grief and terror upon the 
 threshold of every door; — it is not in such a state of society 
 that the egotist can enjoy the mite he has refused to con- 
 tribute for the wants of his country. The only difference 
 in his fate, in the common calamity, from that of his 
 fellow citizens, would be deserved opprobium ; and in 
 his bosom, unavailing remorse. 
 
 What recent proofs have we not had of that public spi- 
 rit which places success beyond a doubt. With what 
 rapidity was that national militia, were those legions of 
 armed citizens formed, for the defence of the states, the 
 preservation of public peace, and due execution of the 
 laws! A generous emulation pervaded the whole king- 
 dom. Towns, cities, provinces, all considered their pri- 
 vileges as odious distinctions ; and aspired to the honour 
 of sacrificing them to enrich their country. You well 
 know, that there was not time to draw up a separate de- 
 cree for each sacrifice, which a truly pure and patriotic 
 sentiment dictated to all classes of citizens, who volunta- 
 rily restored to the great family, that which was exclu- 
 sively enjoyed by the few to the prejudice of the many. 
 
 Patriotic gifts have been singularly multiplied during 
 the present crisis in the finances. The most noble exam- 
 ples have emanated from the throne, whose majesty is 
 elevated by the virtue of the prince who sits upon it. 0, 
 prince, so justly beloved by your people! King, honest 
 man, and good citizen! You glanced at the magnificence 
 which surrounded you, and the riches of ostentation were 
 forthwith converted into national resources! By fore- 
 
390 APPENDIX. 
 
 going the embellishments of luxury, your royal dignity 
 received new splendour ; and while the affection of your 
 people makes them murmur at your privations, their sen- 
 sibility applauds your noble courage, and their generosity 
 will return your benefactions, as you wish them to be re- 
 turned, by imitating your virtue and affording you the 
 delight of having guided them through the difficult paths 
 of public sacrifice. 
 
 How vast is the wealth which ostentation and vanity 
 have made their prey, and which might become the active 
 agent of prosperity ! To what an extent might individual 
 economy concur with the most noble views, in restoring 
 happiness to the kingdom ! The immense riches accumu- 
 lated by the piety of our forefathers for the service of the 
 altar, would not change their religious destination, by 
 being brought from their obscurity, and devoted to the 
 public service! " These are the hoards which I collected 
 in the days of prosperity," says our holy religion ; "I 
 add them to the general mass in the present times of pub- 
 lic calamity. I required them not ; no borrowed splendour 
 can add to my greatness. It was for you, and for the 
 state, that I levied this tribute upon the piety of your an- 
 cestors." 
 
 Oh! who would reject such examples as these? How 
 favourable is the present moment for the development 
 of our resources, and for claiming assistance from all parts 
 of the empire ! Let us prevent the opprobrium of viola- 
 ting our most sacred engagements, which would prove a • 
 foul blot upon the infancy of our freedom Let us pre- 
 
APPENDIX. 391 
 
 vent those dreadful shocks which, by overthrowing the 
 most solid institutions, would affect far and near, the for- 
 tune of all classes of citizens, and present, throughout the 
 kingdom, the sad spectacle of a disgraceful ruin. How 
 do they deceive themselves who, at a distance from the 
 metropolis, consider not the public faith, either in its in- 
 separable connexion with the national prosperity, or as 
 the primary condition of our social compact! Do they 
 who pronounce the infamous word bankruptcy, desire 
 that we should form a community of wild beasts, instead 
 of equitable and free men? What Frenchman would 
 dare look upon one of his unfortunate brethren, if his con- 
 science should whisper to him that he had contributed 
 his share towards poisoning the existence of millions of 
 his fellow creatures? Should we be any longer that na- 
 tion whose very enemies grant us the pride of honour, if 
 foreigners could degrade us with the title of BANKRUPT 
 NATION, and accuse us of having assumed our freedom 
 and our strength, only to commit crimes at which even 
 despotism herself would shudder ? . 
 
 Our protesting that our execrable crime was not pre- 
 meditated, would avail us nothing. The cries of our vic- 
 tims, disseminated all over Europe, would be a louder, and 
 a more effective protestation than ours. We must act 
 without loss of time ; — prompt, efficacious, and certain 
 measures must be adopted ; and that cloud must disappear, 
 which has been so long suspended over our heads, and, 
 from one end of Europe to the other, has thrown conster- 
 nation into the minds of the creditors of France j — for it 
 
393 APPENDIX. 
 
 may, at length, become more fatal to our national resour- 
 ces, than the dreadful scourge which has ravaged our pro- 
 vinces. 
 
 What courage would the adoption of this plan give us 
 in the functions you have confided to our zeal! And how 
 could we proceed with safety, in the constitution of a state 
 whose very existence is in danger? We promised, nay, 
 we solemnly swore to save the country; judge then of 
 our anguish, when we fear that it will perish in our hands. 
 A momentary sacrifice is all that is required ; but it must 
 be frankly made to the public good, and not to the depre- 
 dations of cupidity. And is this slight expiation of the 
 faults and errors of the period marked by our political ser- 
 vitude, beyond our courage? God forbid! Let us re- 
 member the price paid for freedom, by every people who 
 have showed themselves worthy of it. Torrents of blood, 
 lengthened misfortunes, and dreadful civil wars, have 
 every where marked her birth. She only requires of us 
 a pecuniary sacrifice ; and this vulgar offering is not a 
 gift that will impoverish us ;— for she will return to en- 
 rich us, and shine upon our cities and our fields to in- 
 crease their glory and prosperity. 
 
APPENDIX. 393 
 
 No. IV. 
 
 THANKS OF AN ARTISAN TO THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU, 
 
 on his Tnotion against the eligibility of insolvent 
 debtors to the legislative assembly, and that of their 
 children, unless the latter pay the virile portion of 
 their father^ s debts. 
 
 Monsieur le Comte, 
 
 I HAVE neither great wit nor a fine style. All that is 
 very common with you, and you will easily dispense 
 with it in a poor artisan. But I have some judgment, — 
 at least I think so — a feeling of pure patriotism, and a 
 lively and grateful heart. These are my claims to your 
 attention, and I am sure they will be admitted by so 
 good a citizen. 
 
 Ah! Monsieur le Comte, what an excellent law you 
 have proposed! What a wise decree you have obtained 
 from the national assembly! It is the rallying of honest 
 men against rogues. May Heaven bless you, gentlemen ! 
 You are the defenders of duped and confiding men, the 
 scourge of insolvent dishonesty, and the restorers of in- 
 tegrity, honour and filial piety. 
 
 Though this effusion is excited in my mind by grati- 
 tude, the latter may, perhaps, be attended with a little 
 resentment. And how can I help it ? I was ruined by 
 a gentleman ; — I had worked for him several years, paid 
 2z 
 
394 APPENDIX, 
 
 workmen to serve him, and even mad© advances to 
 procure him other works in the line of my 'calling. I 
 wanted to set up my son, and portion my daughter ; and 
 I depended upon this sum, so justly due to me, for the 
 settlement of my children, and the payment of a small 
 stock in trade, which I had bought. On the eve of re- 
 ceiving this money, as I thought, I found that my debtor 
 had become insolvent, and fled ; and I thus lost, in an 
 instant, the advances I had made, and the fruit of my 
 long labour. 
 
 Alas! Sir ; what brought on the disaster of this sense- 
 less man, was precisely that which deceived me as to his 
 opulence. He had a hotel in town, a house in the coun- 
 try, fine clothes, footmen and lackeys ; — I was dazzled at 
 this, and my confidence was without bounds. A numer- 
 ous and elegant family seemed to answer for the prudence 
 of its chief; but I knew not that the children and valets 
 were the masters. After the reverse, nothing was talked 
 of but robbery, dissipation, imprudence, debts contracted 
 by the children, and paid off several times to usurers who 
 made a noise ; — whilst poor locksmiths, and joiners, and 
 tailors, did not presume to go and claim the fruit of their 
 labour. It is a very lamentable thing for a creditor, 
 Monsieur le Comte, to want bread, because his debtor 
 has squandered millions ; but there is something ^till 
 more disgusting to an honest man — it is to see impudence 
 the companion of knavery, and to encounter the disdain 
 of despicable persons. 
 
 One of the sons of this gentleman who dragged me with 
 
APPENDIX. 395 
 
 him into ruin, i'S returned to Paris. He is married and 
 cuts a figure ; the means by which he does so, may easily 
 be guessed. On being told of this, I experienced greater 
 indignation than hope ; and I was right. I gained admit- 
 tance to his anti-chamber ; but his people knew not what 
 I meant ; my claims seemed to be upon their master's 
 father and not upon him. As for the gentleman himself, 
 he did not choose to see or hear me, nor would he hon- 
 our his name by the least attention to a domestic debt. 
 After this, his door was shut against me. I presented 
 myself at it one (jay just as he was going out, and encoun- 
 tered the most dastardly glance that ever audacious scoun- 
 drel repulsed an honest man with. 
 
 Your pardon, Monsieur le Comte, for giving you all 
 these particulars ; you see my drift ; but I must repeat 
 it again, for it relieves me. Ah ! what an excellent de- 
 cree, what a consolatorj^ law does the nation owe you ! 
 Thus is my gentleman, in spite of his noble birth, fallen 
 below his locksmith, because the latter pays his debts, 
 and the gentleman does not. And here is his worthy 
 son reduced, in spite of his ostentation and insolence, to 
 the same level with his unhappy father, whose ruin he 
 hastened. Both are less than citizens, because they have 
 forfeited the privileges of citizens ; consequently they 
 are less than I whom they have despoiled. I hope to as- 
 sist at the primari/ assemblies ; my children will perhaps 
 become electors, and whilst we are performing such pa- 
 triotic duties, it will be the turn of these magnificent 
 debtors to respect us. 
 
396 APPENDIX. 
 
 The law, it is true, gives me no action against the son 
 of my debtor ; but the tribunal of public opinion brings 
 the action for me. This is a new security for debts, 
 which are thus placed under the safe-guard of public 
 honour. 
 
 You cannot, Monsieur le Comte, fully appreciate the 
 good you have done. Have you been ruined like me, by 
 a haughty and pitiless debtor ? Do you enjoy the plea- 
 sure of revenge by means so unforeseen, so sure, and so 
 terrible ? Are you aware of the proud slateliness of cer- 
 tain lords when they condescend to get into a poor devil's 
 debt ? Have you an idea of the disgust and rebufifs they 
 make him suffer before he can obtain the charity of a 
 little justice ? 
 
 Well, sir, your law will remedy all this. The fright- 
 ful disgrace attached to insolvency, by giving a greater 
 importance to order and economy, will bring the debtor 
 and creditor closer together, make each sensible of his 
 engagements, prevent any difficulties in their fulfilment, 
 and, by placing the honour of the insolvent debtor in the 
 hands of his creditors, miake him behave to them before- 
 hand with rectitude and honesty.. 
 
 Is not that too common habit of not paying one's 
 debts, a species of voluntary bankruptcy ; — that constant 
 putting off', to a future day, of shopkeepers, workmen, 
 and bearers of bills — or having them thrust out of doors 
 by porters, or valets ; and placing them in the cruel al- 
 ternative either of losing their customer if they press 
 for payment, or of being never paid if they do not press. 
 
APPENDIX. 397 
 
 I think, sir, that as the loss of certain political rights 
 will cast a stigma upon an insolvent debtor, even in the 
 person of his children, it will no longer be an honour not 
 to pay one's debts. All that petty inattention to prom- 
 ises which happens every day, will soon be included in 
 the moral effect of the new law against bankrupts. 
 
 And besides, Monsieur le Comte, (pardon me, if 1 
 go out of my depth in penetrating the consequences of 
 your decree ; but since the national assembly exists, we 
 have acquired a new sense — the moral and political taste), 
 and besides, it will be a powerful corrector of popular 
 opinion. The functions of citizens will be confided, 
 not to birth, title, intrigue and ambition ; but to faithful 
 industry, honest foresight and propriety of conduct. 
 The obscure honest man will enjoy the privileges which 
 the titled man will have lost, if he breaks his faith. 
 
 And public offices, Monsieur le Comte ; and the ap- 
 pointments in the municipality and magistracy ; and 
 the different gradations by which an individual raises him- 
 self from a simple citizen to be a representative of the 
 nation ! what a noble and true lustre will not each of 
 these gradations of rank acquire in addition ? when inte- 
 grity and good faith stand sentinel at the entrance of the 
 political temple, to repulse all who violate their precepts, 
 to be an honest man will become a primary object of 
 ambition ; and the first pride of the greater and lesser 
 magistracy will be to have no members but honest men. 
 
 Your ideas, on this subject, have doubtless anticipated 
 mine. We can appreciate the judgment, by the judge — 
 
398 APPENDIX. 
 
 the law, by the legislator. The best way to be well gov- 
 erned is to make virtue a title of eligibility for yo\ir 
 governors; for by perfecting the instrument, you render 
 the work more perfect ; — and a public man is the more 
 attached to his functions, and studies the more to make 
 them useful and respectable, when they are conferred 
 upon him as the reward of good morals and propriety of 
 conduct. 
 
 Perhaps, Monsieur le Comte, you may think me an 
 enthusiast. Pray excuse this soft delirium of ^a patriotic 
 citizen. I think that every thing is connected in moral- 
 ity and legislation, as in nature. Evil produces evil, and 
 good is the source of good ; therefore the latter must be 
 done for the sake not only of itself, but of all the advanta- 
 ges to which it leads. I can fancy, in this decree, by 
 which I am so much delighted, a regenerating principle 
 of the national morals. When a law takes into consider- 
 ation the honesty of a citizen — obliges him to make his 
 first progress in his political career, by a profession of 
 purity, and sows early in his heart the goodly seeds of 
 virtue, and the noble ambition of public esteem — there 
 are no good effects to which it may not lead. You were 
 right, sir, in asserting that it is a law which does honour 
 to the nation ; but the nation also renders the honour 
 due to the founders of such a law. 
 
 Let us now hope, sir, that every citizen will be pene- 
 trated with that public spirit which animates our legisla- 
 tors, and has produced so celebrated a statute. In our 
 immense cities, every thing is fugitive, and without cha- 
 
APPENDIX. 399 
 
 racter ; there is no lasting impression, and the strongest 
 laws leave no mark ; — but in our provinces, in our small 
 municipalities — where each individual is under the eye 
 of the whole community, and where the moral feeling is 
 extremely excitable, and that of honour very irritable — 
 your law will do wonders. There it is that its good ef- 
 fects will serve as edifying examples to our cities. Fewer 
 ruined nobles will be there seen, in future, insulting the 
 misery they have caused ; poor artisans will be able to 
 pay for their little stock in trade, to set up their sons, 
 and to portion off their daughters. They will be more 
 fortunate than I ; but they will not feel greater admira- 
 tion for their illustrious fellow-citizen, whose exertions 
 for our happiness and prosperity are unbounded. 
 
 I am, with respect. 
 
 Monsieur le Comte, 
 
 Your very humble servant, 
 
 R 
 
 END OF THE APPENDIX. 
 
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