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MEMOIRS

THE LIFE

SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY,

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF;

WITH A SELECTION FROM

HIS COREESPONDENCE.

EDITED BY HIS SONS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

TEIKD EDITION,

\ LONDON:

[ JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.

11841.
Digitized by Google

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Printed by William Clowes aud Sosts,

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PREFACE.

The publication of the *' Memoirs of Sir Samuel Romilly
edited by his Sons" requires some explanation of what is
included under this title, and of the motives which have
led to this undertaking.

From the great mass of papers left by Sir S. Romilly,
those have been selected which furnish, in some measure,
a connected history of his life. They begin with a narra-
tive, in two parts, of the events of his earliest years, from
1757 to the close of 1189. The former of these bears
date 1 796, two years previous to his marriage : it appears
to have been carefully revised and corrected, and a fair
copy was made of it, of which no other instance is to be
found amongst these papers. The latter part, dated in
1813, seems to have been more hastily written ; the rough
draft, consisting of loose sheets, is the only copy ; and the
alterations and corrections which are to be found in it
appear to have been made when it was originally written.
With the exception of two passages, both parts have been
published entire.

This narrative is followed by a series of letters written to
his brother-in-law, the Rev. Mr. Roget, who was then
residing at Lausanne: they commence in 1780, and con-
tinue till the death of Mr. Roget in 1783. Besides
many domestic details, most of which are omitted, these
letters contain an accoimt of the principal events which
took place in England during those years, and much criti-
cism on the books he was then reading. Such of them

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IV PEEFACB.

have been selected as present the most faithful picture of
his mind and disposition at that period of his life.

No original materials exist from which alone it would
have been possible to continue the history of Sir Samuel
Romilly's life during the sixteen years which elapsed from
1*789 to the beginning of 1806. This interval has been
filled up with a selection from such letters, either from hh
correspondents or himself, as seems best calculated to
supply this deficiency. To this correspondence has been
added the diary of a visit to Paris in 1802, and an unfi-
nished narrative of certain events belonging to the history
of his life which took place in 1805.

The next and principal part of this work is a journal
of his parliamentary life, extending from the beginning
of the year 1806 to the close of it in 1818. The original
manuscript is contained in three small quarto volumes.
Except a few references to subsequent passages, and some
pages inserted in the middle of the second volume,
containing letters relating to the Bristol election, no
addition appears to have been made to any part of it
after it was first written; and, except two lines which
are effiu:ed in the second volume, no passage is erased, and
very few corrections are to be found, throughout this
manuscript. The Editors have added several notes, some to
furnish explanations and references, and some for the pur-
pose of introducing at the proper dates a few contempora-
neous letters : all the other notes and the marginal abstjuracts
which appear here, together with a copious index, exist in
the original. A few passages have been omitted, but no
attempt has been made to remove any of those marks of
haste which show the manner in which this journal was
written from day to day, as the occasion prompted.

Four papers, which are entitled ** Letters to C," to
which is prefixed a separate explanatory introduction, con-
stitute the last portion of these Memoirs.

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PBEFACB. V

Such is a short account of the papers which compose
this work. The reader must not expect to find in them any
connected history of the times in which they were written,
and scarcely any hut an incidental reference to the great
events which were then taking place on the continent of
Europe. But to record public events did not enter into
the views with which these Memoirs were written, neither
does it constitute any part of those with which they are
published. It should be borne in mind, throughout, that
to give such a history of Sir Samuel Romilly's life as will
illustrate his character, by describing his feelings and
opinions as far as the production of original documents
will accomplish it, is the exclusive object of this work.
The Editors have accordingly strictly confined themselves
to the task of selection and arrangement. They have
sedulously abstained from comment or remark; and, with
the exception of the few notes and references, not a
word will be found in these volumes which has not been
written by their father, or by one of his correspondents.
They have, however, availed themselves, although very
sparingly,* of the power of suppression ; but in no case
has any passage been omitted which would have given a
diflFerent colour to the observations in the text.

Some passages will be found in the parliamentary diary
in which the conduct of various persons is animadverted
upon : but wherever these have been retained they have
been considered to relate exclusively to public character or
public conduct, and to be such as the terms in which they
are expressed, and the object for which they were written,
entitled the Editors to publish, and would not have justified
them in suppressing.

There are, however, many deficiencies in these Memoirs

which, consistently with the plan adopted, the Editors are

* The passages omitted from the parliamentary journal amount
in the whme, to eight pages, of which five are a mere catalogue of
places passed through in travelling.

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Tl PREFACE.

unable to supply. Of one part, and that a most material
one, of their father's life, they regret to say that no account
is .to be found in these pages. Of his labours in the
study of the law, of his gradual rise and ultimate success
in his profession, to which he owed the opportunities of
doing all that is here recorded, these pages contain scarcely
any mention . Although abundant materials remain which
testify the intensity of his labours in his profession, he
has left none which show the mode by which he ros^ or
the eminence which he reached. The Editors have not
sought for information to supply this omission, being
anxious that his character should appear as it is displayed
by himself. If, in truth, they had departed from this
course, it would have been, not to record his triumphs in
his profession, or to relate the influence of his eloquence,
but to describe some few of those scenes which live in
the memories of them all, when, in the intervals of relaxa-
tion from his labours and in the midst of his children, he
sympathised with their pursuits, partook of their enjoy-
ments, added by his gaiety to their mirth, and to each, in
his different way, was scarcely less a companion than a
father. This gratification, however, they have not ven-
tured to allow themselves ; and as they neither pretend to
write his life, nor affect to possess the impartiality which
should belong to those who undertake that task, they have
deemed it necessary, with whatever reluctance, to confine
themselves strictly to the course they had laid down for
their conduct, and to which alone they felt themselves to .
be equal. The portrait they present must, they are aware,
be in many respects unfinished, and in some scarcely more
than an outline; but many considerations, amongst which
the following have had the greatest weight, have induced
them to offer it, imperfect as it is, to the observation of the
public : —

In a codicil to Sir Samuel Romilly's will, after stating
that he had prepared materials for a work on Criminal

PREFACE. VU

Law,* he proceeds to say, " What I have written is not by
any means in a state fit for publication ; but I should be
glad if some friend of mine would look over it ; and if
he thought that there were any extracts or detached parts
of it which it might be useftd to publish, either as fur-
nishing good observations, or affording hints which might
be serviceable to others who may treat on the subject, that
so much of them should be printed with my name. That
such a publication may be injurious to my reputation as
an author or a lawyer I am quite indifierent about ; if it
can be any way useful, that is all I desire."

Every perusal of their father's manuscripts impressed
the Editors with the belief that the publication of another
portion of them, that which forms the principal part of
these volumes, would, though in a different way, fulfil the
spirit of his wishes, and accomplish the objects he had in
view, without diminishing or impeding any benefit which
might flow from a compliance with the request he had
expressed. And they further felt a conviction that,
although he perhaps did not contemplate the possibility
of these Memoirs being known to others than his children
and their descendants, yet that, if he had believed that a
more extended knowledge of them could in any way tend
to the advancement of human happiness, he would« had
it been possible to consult his wishes, have consented to
their publication.

Strongly as the Editors felt this conviction, they dis-
trusted their own judgment in a case where they felt per-
sonally so deep an interest, and would probably have re-
frained from acting upon it, if they had not been sup-
ported by other authority ; but their opinions were con-
firmed and enforced by those of the late Mr. Dumont, the
earliest of the friends who survived their father, and who,

* The papers here referred to are mentioned subsequently in a
note to the introduction to the Letters to C, vol. ii.

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Vm PREFACE.

after an attentive consideration of these papers, urged
their publication in the following manner, in a letter* in-
tended to be addressed to the friend to whom Sir Samuel
Romilly had entrusted the care of his children, and who,
as far as it was possible for any one to do so, has supplied
to them the place of their father.

" I propose, my dear Whishaw, to set down the prin-
cipal observations which have occurred to me in reading
the memoirs of the friend whose virtuous intentions we
wish to fulfil, and whose objects we desire to accomplish,
by devoting to the public good those writings which
breathe, in a peculiar manner, the spirit of patriotism
and benevolence.

" The private memoirs being written only for himself
and his family, and he never having thought of publish-
ing them, it may be asked if his friends have the right to
do so ; that is, if they would be authorised by him thus
to reveal his inmost thoughts, and to display the privacies
of life, the very secrecy of which endears them to us ?
Should I wish it, were I in his place ? and I, who knew
him so well, who was thoroughly acquainted with his most
intimate disposition, can I believe that he would approve
of their publication ? I believe — to answer my own ques-
tion— that, always true, always seeking in the public
good for the sources of his actions, he would say, 'If my
friends think that this publication can injure no one,
and that it may be of public utility, I resign myself to
their judgment, and sacrifice my own inclination.* I think
also that it must have occurred to him, as to every one
who writes his own life, that these recollections might be

* This letter was, in fact, never sent, but was found amongst Mr.
Dumont's papers after his death. The passage in the text is a trans-
lation of that portion of it which relates to the priirate memoirs and
the parliamentary journal ; the rest of the letter refers to other
manuscripts of Sir Samuel Romilly, which are not of an autobio-
j^raphical character.

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PREFACE. IX

one day published either by his friends, or from some
accidental cause; and this appears to me the more pro-
bable from the habitual reserve which is preserved towards
the persons mentioned in them.

" There is, I think, no other work of this kind which
could produce the same moral effects upon a youthful
mind. On one side we see great talents, great repu-
tation, .and ample fortune ; and, on the other, ah obscure
origin, scarcely any education, years lost, — and all these
disadvantages overcome by unwearied application, and by
efforts constantly directed towards the same end. It is
a lesson composed entirely of facts, worth more than
volumes of moral sentiments ; to which none of those
pretences, by which young people commonly reconcile to
themselves their own nothingness, can be suggested as an
answer. Nor does the example stop here. During
twenty years, no one enjoyed happiness surpassing his,
and this of a kind to be described by him alone who felt
it. Although his natural disposition was not without a
tinge of melancholy, this had ceased at the moment of his
marriage, and left only that serious turn of mind which
gave weight to all his thoughts. I, who knew him from
the age of two-and-twenty, could describe how vividly
his flexible imagination dwelt on the pleasures derived
from the beauties of nature, from literature, from the
fine arts, and from the society of his friends ; and how
he made all these enjoyments keep their proper place in
the disposal of his time. But never did I see in him
any trace of those habits of despondency which produce
discontent with one's self and with the world. A charm,
too, is spread over the whole work, and it leaves in the
mind a feeling of affection for the author ; and this
because be displays himself without pretension, and be-
cause the picture he draws relates only to those moral
feelings, those private virtues, which every one can imitate.

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X PREFACE.

and to that domestic life, the happiness of which, as it
is derived from the purest and most amiable feelings,
creates jealousy in the breast of no one. Mere men of
the world will probably disbelieve it : in their eyes it will
appear a romance, but one that will not offend them ;
and, by the middling ranks, the most numerous class of
society, these Memoirs will be read with the same feeling
as that which dictated their composition.

" As to the Memoirs of his Pariiamentary life, I should
have still fewer doubts about them. I know that he wrote
them only for his private use ; but, at the same time, the
only objection that he could have made to their publica-
tion is derived from their imperfect state, the consequence
of the little care he was able to bestow upon them. But
it appears to me that we are able to appreciate the force
of this objection. If these Memoirs present a very in-
teresting summary ; if they will be read (and as far as I
can myself judge this will be the case) with very great
pleasure; if they contain a parliamentary history, in-
structive in the highest degree with regard to the course
of public affairs, to the incidents which determine their
issue, to the difficulties which lie in the way of all reforms,
and to the precautions necessary to ensure success ; if
they contain abundance of novel and striking observa-
tions on many parts of civil and penal legislation ; if, as
I believe, all this is true, then I think that the publica-
tion of these Memoirs, although in some respects and on
certain subjects they be but mere sketches, will confer an
essential benefit on the public.

" Above all, it appears to me that no one ever saw a
more perfect model of all that ought to constitute a
public man in the character of a member of parliament.
And all this appears by a simple statement, with no pre-
tension, no exaggeration, no display of feeling, not a word
of satire^ not an expression which denotes a man hurt by

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PREFACE. Xi

his want of success ; but, on the contrary, representing
him never discouraged, always ready to renew his defeated
projects, and always entertaining the hope that reason
would one day triumph.

"To me, these Memoirs appear a precious monument:
and when I reflect that this laborious undertaking was
the work of a man always occupied to the utmost extent,
who gave up to it, as well as to alibis legislative labours,
that time from whence he might have derived very con-
siderable professional advantages, it seems to me that it
cannot fail to produce a lasting eflfect upon those who
know how to profit by a great example, and to reflect
upon what may be done with life by him who chooses to
employ it."

It is not for the purpose of recording praise of their
father, or of deprecating criticism on these papers, which
it would ill become his sons to attempt, that they have
inserted this letter, but because the writer's intimacy with
him, prolonged without interruption from youth to the last
concluding scenes of his life, gives a weight and authority
to the opinion here expressed, which scarcely leave them
the liberty of choice.

In addition to these, the weightiest considerations, they
have felt that, if they shrank from this task, it might be
performed at some distant period, when those to whom
the perusal of this work would afford the highest gratifi-
cation had passed away, and when none remained either
to correct accidental errors, or to bear witness to the accu-
racy of its author.

If the following pages can furnish any useftil example
or convey any useful instruction, and thus contribute to
the honour of their father's memory, their end will be
answered. It is, in truth, with the view of promoting
the objects to which he devoted his life, in obedience to
the spirit which dictated the latest wish recorded by him-

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XII PREFACS.

self, and under the conviction that these objects and this
wish will, by these means, be to some extent accomplished,
that his sons now give these papers to the world.

The following statement respecting that portion of Sir
Samuel Romilly's papers which, not being of an autobio-
graphical nature, forms no part of the present publication,
is inserted by the Editors, at the request of their father's
executor, Mr. Whishaw.

'<In a codicil to Sir Samuel Romilly's will, dated Oct. 1818,
there is the following passage : —

" ^ I ha\re for some time past employed what leisure I ha\re had in
preparing materials for a work on Criminal Law, and have written
some observations, and collected facts upon different heads, which
would enter into such a work. What I have written is not by any
means in a state fit for publication ; but I should be glad if some
friend of mine would look over it ; and if he thought that there were
any extracts or detached parts of it which it might be useful to
publish, either as furnishing good observations, or affording hints
which might be serviceable to others who may treat on the subject,
tiiat so much of them should be printed with my name. That such
a publication may be injurious to my reputation as an author or a
lawyer I am quite indifferent about ; if it can be any way useful,
that is all I desire. If my friend, Mr. Whishaw, would look over
the papers with this view, and decide what should be done with
respect to them, I should be highly gratified ; they could not possibly
be in better hands. If it were not to suit him to undertake such a
task, perhaps my friend Mr. Brougham, who finds time for anything
that has a tendency to the advancement of human happiness, would
be able, notwithstanding his numerous occupations, to perform this
office of friendship.*

''In compliance with these directions, Mr. Whishaw carefully
examined the papers in question, and, on full consideration, was of
opinion that, under all the circumstances of the case, the publication
of them was no longer a matter of importance, and, unless accom-
panied or preceded by a more general publication, was, on the
whole, not advisable. The amendment of the Criminal Law had
made great progress in public opinion, had engaged the attention of
Parliament and the executive government, and several of the pro-
posed measures had been anticipated by the legislature. He will-
ingly admits that his peculiar habits, and aversion to publicity, may

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PREFACE. * XIU

have contributed to this opinion. But on consulting others in whom
he had confidence, and especially his excellent fiiend Sir James
Mackintosh, then chairman of the Parliamentary Committee on the
amendment of the Criminal Law, his opinion was confirmed by their
judgment. He intimated this to the Editors ; and delivered up to
them all their father's manuscripts at that time in his possession,
including those which form the principal part of the following work,
and respecting which no other directions had been left, but that they
< should be preserved for his children/ The papers on Crimind.
Law were then in the hands of Lord Brougham ; but these also were
subsequently returned to the family, with expressions of great kind-
ness and approbation. To that distinguished individual Mr. W.
gladly avails himself of the present occasion to record the deep sense
of gratitude he, in common with every member of Sir S. Romilly's
family, entertains for the repeated tributes paid by his Lordship, in
his writings and in his speeches, to the talents and virtues of their
departed friend.'^

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CONTENTS

THE FIRST VOLUME.

NARRATIVE OF THE EARLY LIFE OF SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY.

1757—1778.

Part I. — Motives for writing his life. Ancestors. His grand-
father abandons France and settles in England ; his marriage,
difficulties, and death. His father's character. Anecdote. His
own infancy. Mrs. Facquier. Mary Evans. Instances of his
early disposition. French chapel. Day school. Plans of life.
His self-education. His brother^s marriage. Mr. de la Haize's
legacies. Articled to Mr. Lally. His occupations. Friendship
with Mr. Roget. His sister's marriage. Greenway.

Pages 1—28

1778—1789.

Past II. — Motives for resuming this narrative. Reasons for re-
linquishing the Six Clerks' office. Enters at Gray's Inn. Mr.
Spranger. Ill health. Lord George Gordon's riots, and their
effects on his health. Journey to Switzerland. Lausanne. So-
ciety of Geneva. Criminal Trial. Dumont. Excursions.
Journey. Paris. Illuminations. D'Alembert, Diderot, Romilly.
Mde Delessert. Return to England. Baynes. Called to the
bar... Death of Mr. Roget Journey to Paris. Dr. Franklin.
Mr. Gautier. Geneva. Abb6 Raynal. Return to England.
Midland circuit. Sergeant HiU. Old Wheler. His father's
death. His clerk Bickers. Mirabeau; Trial of Hardy ; Mr.
Justice Buller. Lord Lansdowne. Fragment on the consti-
tutional power and duties of juries. The Rev. Dr. Madan's
Thoughts on Executivs Justice. Observations on a hte publication

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XVI CONTENTS.

entitled Thoughts, 8fc, Ascougb, Perceval, Bramston. Quarter
sessions. Death of Baynes. Journey to Paris. Mirabeau.
BicStre. Malesherbes ; Anecdote. French politics and society.
Return to England. Statement of rules of the House of Com-
mons. Thoughit on the probable influence of the French revolution
on Great Britain, Visit to Paris. Courrier de Provence. Abb6
Sieyes. Anecdotes. Mallouet Mirabeau • Pages 29 — 82

LETTERS TO THE REV. JOHN ROGET.

1780—1783.

LETTER

I. — Lord George Gordon's riots. Meeting in St. George's
Fields. Tumults at Westminster. Attack upon the

Catholic Chapels .83

II. — Lord George Gordon's riots— continued. Lord Sand-
wich. The prisons broken open, and houses burnt.
|if easures of the Government • • . .90
III. — -Anecdotes respecting the riots. Character of Lord
Greorge Gordon. Steps taken by the Inns of Court.

Tumults at Bath 93

IV. — ^Effect of the riots upon his own health. Character of
the new parliament. Burke's rejection at Bristol. The
appeal of the Protestant Association compared to the
war song of the American savages . • .98
V. — His friends ; occupations ; and future prospects. Ame-
rican war; Arnold's conduct and proclamation; Major
Andr6. Burke's speech at Bristol . . • 101
VI. — Machiavel's Del Principe. Voltaire's Anti-Machiavel.
Hurricane in the West Indies. Rousseau . 106

VII. — Debate in the House of Lords on the Dutch war. Death

of Mrs. Facquier 109

VIII. — Remarks on a bill to disable contractors from sitting in
Parliament. English judges in India. Petition of the

Gentoos 114

IX. — ^Tendency to exaggerate the miseries of life. Mode of

life; politics • 118

X. — Burke's motion on the conduct of Rodney and Vaughan
at St. Eustatius. Religious debating societies. Howard
on prisons .•••••• 121

XI. — Description of the Grande Chartreuse . .125

XII — Ostend. Diderot and Rousseau. Life of Seneca.

Character of the French. Mass at Versailles • 127

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CONTENTS, XVU

LETTER

XIII. — Diderot ; anecdote of Hume. Birth of the Dauphin ;

rejoicings on the occasion • • • Page 131

XIV. — Lord Comwallis taken prisoner. Meeting of parliament.

Fox's Amendment to the Address . . .134

XV. — Character of Lord North*s administration. Pitt's first

speeches. Roget's future plans. Fine arts at Paris.

Houdon 139

XVI.— De Lolme. French Atheists. Taking of St. Eustatius.

D'Alembert 144

XVII. — ^Foz's motion on the conduct of Lord Sandwich. De-
bate on General Conway's motion on the American

war . • 147

XVIIL — Rejoicing of the people on the prospect of a change of
ministry. Cross elections at Geneva. Demagogues less
dangerous in office than out of it Wilkes. . 151
XIX. — Motion for the removal of the Ministry. Their resig-
nation. Burke^s speeches, and eloquence. On the
engagement not to accept office • . .154
XX. — Change of ministry ; Lord North. Lord George
Gordon. Affiiirs in Ireland ; Eden's conduct. Fox's
speech ....... 159

XXI. — Debate on Pitt's motion for parliamentary reform.

Atheism • 162

XXII. — Rodney's victory over De Grasse. Debate on his recall.

Hood. Geneva 167

XXIII. — Death of Lord Rockingham. Resignation of Fox,
Burke, &c. Their speeches on resigning. New ap-
pointments •...•., 171
XXIV. — Geneva. Abb6 St. Pierre and Rousseau on perpetual
peace •••.... 175
XXV. — Prospects in his profession. Genevese colony in Ireland.
Hume on eloquence ; Orators of England, and of an-
tiquity; Bolinbroke 178

XXVI. — Anticipation of peace. King's speech on the opening
of parliament ; debate ; Fox's speech. Genevese emi-
gration. Locke 181

XXVII. — His profession. Geneva. Characters of Duroveray,
Claviere,&c Pitt's talents . . . .189
XXVIII. — Linguet. M6moire9 9ur la Bastille, Mirabeau; in-
fluence of religion on eloquence. Alliance between

Fox and Lord North 195

XXIX. — Coalition ministry ..... 203

VOL. I, b

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Xviii CONTENTS.

LETTER

XXX. — ^Pitt's motion for refonn in parliament Anecdote.

Penal Code. Locke and Rousseau on education. On

Roget's proposed return to England • Page 206

XXXI.— To hifl sister on the loss of her husband • .213

XXXII.— On the same subject . . • . .215

LETTERS FROM THE C50UNT DE MIRABEAU AND OTHERS.

1783—1787.

XXXIII. — From Mh. Baynes. Cheanbre du ParlemenL Renault.

(note) Dr. Parr's account of Mr. Baynes . .218

XXXIV. — Fhm THE Count de M wabeau. Work on the order

of Cincinnatus • 220

XXXV.— From THE SAME. On Fontenelle • . . 222
XXXVL—From the same. On hospitals . . . 228
XXXVII. — From the same. Gibbon. Marquis of Lansdowne.
Examination of coniricted criminals . . 236
XXXVIII. -From Mr. Baynes. Fox. Mirabeau. His friend-
ship 242

XXXIX. — From the same. On his expectation of the Marquis
of Lansdowne's offering Mr. Romilly a seat in par-
liament ....••• 244
XL. — From the Count de Mibabeau. On the immortality
of the soul. On Mr. Romilly's prospects . . 244
XLI. — From the same. His journey to Paris, and publication
of the Banque (TEspagne .... 247

XLII.— From the Mabquis of Lansdownb. On Mr. R. g
Observation* on Madan't Executive Justice . 250

XLlll. — From Sib G. Elliot. On the same subject • 251
XLI v.— From M. Target. On the same subject , 252

XLV.— From Mb. Baynes- Trinity College. Studies . 253
XLVI. — From Mr. Wilbebforce. On the death of Mr.

Baynes 255

XLVII. — From Mb. Mason (the poet). On the ame subject

255
CORRESPONDENCE WITH M. DUMONT AND OTHERS.

1788—1789.

XLVIII. — To Madame D. Journey from Paris. Mr. Seguier^s

speech 257

XLIX. — To THE same. King's recovery. The King of Prussia's
letters. Gray's letters. Abb^ de Mably • .258

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LETTER

L. — To THE SAME. Abergavezmy ; beauty of the country ;

Palm Sunday. Abolition of slave-trade • Page 260

LI. — To M. DuMONT. Debate on the slave-trade. Fox,

Wilberforce, Necker, Burke. Petition from Sheffield

262
LII. — From M. Dumont. SocUU dea Amis des Noira,

Rousseau and Voltaire 265

IJII. — To M. Dumont. Rules of the House of Commons,
Mirabeau. Slave ships; misrepresentations of their

captains 267

LIV. — From M. Dumont. Rules of ike House of Commons^
Disinclination of the French to borrow from the British

constitution • 270

LV. — To M. Dumont. French Revolution ; sympathy of the
English. Mirabeau. Murder of Foulon • 271

LVI. — From Mlle D. Switzerland ; Canton of Berne ; hap-
piness of the people. Expectations respecting the
French Revolution • . • • • 273
LVII, — From Mr. Trail. Mirabeau's proposition for a Riot
Act in France. National Assembly. Departure of the
Duke of Orleans. Reported plots. Excursion to Ver-
sailles, 5th and 6th October. Entertainment given by

the Gardes du Corps 276

LVIII. — From M. Dumont. On the French Revolution. Effect
of the removal of the National Assembly to Paris.

Slave-trade 279

LIX. — To Madame" D. Opinion on the removal of the Na^
tional Assembly. Change of opinion in England on
the French Revolution • • • .281

LXw — To M. Dumont. The English law respecting the sup-
pression of riots ; powers of the justices of tJbe peace ;
employment of military force ; Riot Act • . 283
LXI. — To the same. Courrier de Provence, On the exclu-
sion of ministers from the National Assembly. On
rewards for discovering conspiracies in France. Poor
Laws. Suppliants • • • • . 286
LXII. — To the same. Law proposed in National Assembly
respecting the children of bankrupts. False reports of
tumults at Paris. History of the French Revolution.

Joseph II 288

LXIII. — From M. Dumont. Mirabeau's loss of favour in the
Assembly. Law respecting the children of bankrupts.

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XX CONTENTS.

LETTER

Intentions of writing the history of the French Revo-
lution. Geneva. Rousseau s Confessions • Page 290
LXIV, — To Mr. Vaughan. Domine Salvum, &c. Diwaont.
Miraheau. Courrier de Provence • • • 294

1790.

LXV. — To M. DuMONT. Urges him to write a history of the

French Revolution. Slave-trade . . . 296

' LXVI. — To Madame G. Congratulations. Reflections on the

progress of the French Revolution. State of Flanders

297
LXVII. — From Madame G, The king's acceptance of the con-
stitution. On the finances. State of France. Division
into departments ...... 299

LXVIII. — From the same. Thoughts on the Influence, &c. On
the State of France ; want of employment, and general
distress ........ 301

LXIX. — From the same. Proceedings of the Assembly ;
Judicial establishments ; church property. General

licence 303

LXX. — To Madame G. Opinion on the National Assembly.
Right of making peace and war. Spanish war ; cala-
mities of war 306

LXXI.— 7b the same. Bentham's Defence of Usury. Adam

Smith's Mwral Sentiments, Opinions of the universities

on the French Revolution . • . • . 308

LXXII. — To M . DuMONT. Affairs of Geneva ; advice to Dumont

respecting them ...... 309

LXXIII.— 7b M. G . Congratulations on the birth of a

daughter. Reflections on the French Revolution. Meet-
ing of parliament. Warren Hastings • .312
LXXIV. — From Madame G. Opinion on the French Revolution

314

, 1791.

LXXV. — From the same. Manner in which English opinions
are considered in France. Danton and Pastoret 315

LXXVI.— 7b M. Dumont.— Gro«tw//'« Letters, On Paine's
Rights of Man. Bentham . . . .316

LXXVII. — From Madame G. Paine and Burke. Death of
Mirabeau ; his character and funeral . . 319

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CONTENTS. XXI

LETTER

LXXVIII. — From M. Dumont. On the death of Mirabeau.
GroenwU'a Letten .... Page 323

LXXIX. — To Madame G. Of Mirabeau's character. Slave-
trade ; prejudices. Burke and Paine . . 324
LXXX. — From Mr. Trail. The King's reception on his return
from Vaiennes. Anecdote. Bon-mot on Voltaire^s

iiineral • 327

LXXXI. — To Madame G. On the Birmingham riots . 329
liXXXII.— 7b M. Dumont. On Groenvelt's Letters . 330

ItXXXIII. — From Mr. Wilson (note). Characters of Wilson and
Trail. Louis XVI/s acceptance of the constitution.
" Richard'* at the Italian opera. Stories current at
Paris. The republicans in the Assembly. D'Andr£.
Chamfort. Yoinefs Ruinet . • .331

LXXXIV.— From Mr. Trail. Popularity of Louis XVI. Illu-
minations. Rerocation of the decree in favour of the
gens de coukur. Barnave. Report on national edu-
cation. The Queen and French princes. FSles Na-
tionaks. Bailly. Emigrations . • . 336

LXXX v.— To . Trials of the Birmingham rioters at

Warwick 339

I^XXVI. — From Madame G. Legislative Assembly. General

desire of the nation for peace and order. Emigration

among the middle classes .... 344

LXXXYII. — To Madame G. His profession. National Assembly.

Fox. Insurrection at St. Domingo • • 346

1792.

LXXXVIII.— ro Madamb G. The French Revolution ; conduct
of the Assembly. Slave>tiade abolition ; resolution
rejected by the Lords ; feeling in favour of the bill.

Lotteries 349

LXXXIX.— r© M. Dumont. Arrival of young D . On the

September massacres at Paris • . • 350

XC.—From M. Dl-mont. Death of M. de la Rochefo«

cauld. September massacres ; how far provoked.

Cabanis 352

XCI. — To M. Dumont. On the September massacres.
Union of political proscription, and religious per-
secution ....... 355

XCIL— i^ow M. Dumont. Parisian mob. Passports. Con-

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XXll CONTENTS.

LETTER

duct of Catherine II. Louis XIV» EflTect of the
Prussian and Austrian alliance • . Page 356

XCIII. — Fhmt The Marquis op Lansdowne. Country gen-
tlemen. Reform in Parliament. French clergy ; per-
secution ••••••• 358

XCIV.— From Madame G. The French Republic. Trial of
Louis XVI, Conduct of the Convention. England
and its institutions 359

1793.

XCV. — From Madame 6. War with England ; consolations.

State of Paris 362

XCVI.— 7b M. DuMONT. Edinburgh. Dugald Stewart's
account of Adam Smith. Administration of justice
in Scotland. Scotch scenery; Loch Lomond. The

Rev. Mr. Stuart 364

XCVII. — 7*0 THE SAME. M. Guyot. F&ris massacres. Manuel;

anecdotes 368

XCVIII. — To THE SAME. On literary composition • • 370

XCIX.— From M. DuMONT. The Gironde. Brissot . 373

C. — To M. DuMONT. Profession of the law. State of

France. The Queen s trial. Kentucky. American

writers, 375

1794.

CI. — To Madame G. Anxiety for the safety of her family.
Stateof France; of England • • ,377
I CII. — To Mr. Duo ALD Stewart. Adam Smith. Imprison-
ment of Mr. D 379

cm. — To Madame G. Congratulations on the release of

. Mr. D . Profession of the law. State of the

country. Volunteers • . • • . 380

1795.

CIV. — 7b Mr. Duoald Stewart. Expedition into Brittany.
Memoirs of the Girondistes. Madame Roland

Louvet 383

CV. — Fhnn M. Dumont. Garat's apology, and Madame
Roland's memoirs. Destruction of the Girondistes
Hie Convention 385

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LETTER

CVI. — 7b M. DuMONT. Garat. French character. French
pamphlets; spies; prisons. Tronson du Coudray

Page 387

1796.

CVII. — To THE SAME. London. Mitford's Greece. Lite-
rary composition. Charlotte Smith's novels. Drouet's

escape 389

CVIII. — From M. Dumont. Worthing. Literary compo-
sition 391

CIX.— 7b M. Dumont. Proposed Visit to Bowood • 393

1797.

CX« — 7b HIS Nephew. Friendship^ Advice against too
close an application to study. Hastings • • 394

1798.

CXI, — Fnw» M. Dumont. Congratulations on Mr. R.'g

marri£^ 395

CXII. — From Mr. Manners Sutton. Same subject • 397

CXIII. — 7b Madams G. Announcing his marriage • 397

CXIV. — 7b the same. M. Corancez' book ; Rousseau. Coxe's

Memoirs of Sir Robert Walpole . • .398

1199.

CXV. — From M. Dumont. Education ; Sandford and Merton

400
CXVI.— 7b Madame G. Criticisms on La Harpe . 401

1800.

CXVn. — 7b the SAME. Riots; cause of them; mistaken ex-
pedients to check them ; resolutions . • 403

1802.

CX VIII.— 7b M. Dumont. Bentham. Traitei de LtgUlation
civile et penale. Dugald Stewart s Life of Robertson.
Hume • • 405

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XXIV CONTENTS.

DIARY OF A JOURNEY TO PARIS.

Abbeville ; beggars — improvement in the condition of the people
and land. — ^Paris ; Place de la Concorde. — Original MS. of Dr.
Franklin's life. — ^Talleyrand ; England and France. — ^Picture by
Girodet. — Gallois; Tribunal criminel; juries; witnesses; fre- J>

quent acquittals. Other courts ; special juries ; examination of N

the accused by the judges. — Place de Greve; the guillotine ; ex- ■ 2
ecution. — Inscriptions on public buildings; monuments; Le ^j^
Brun. — The opera ; Talleyrand ; dinner at Neuilly, — St, Cloud ; ■ '^
pictures. — Lotteries. — Madlle. Duchesnois. — Bonaparte — Hall of I )
the legislative body. — ^Palais Bourbon. — ^National Institute. — J

' Galvanism. — Anniversary of the Republic; illuminations. — Dinner
at Talleyrand's. — Infernal machine. — Inscriptions in the H6tel j ^
des Invalides. — Gallery of the Museum ; West ; pictures ; Ver- ' t
saiUes. — Houses of the Bonaparte family ; levee at St. Cloud. — ' X
National library; manuscripts. — Leaves Paris. — Abundance of
specie; assignats; banknotes; high rates of interest ; despotism
in France ; police ; restraints upon the press ; English newspapers
prohibited; spies; Bonaparte. State prisoners. — Fouch6; Liberie
andEgalit^; Tuileries; Bonaparte; cause of his power. — ^French
opinion of Pitt ; disposition to refine • • Pages 407 — 424

CXIX — 7b Madame G. Friendship. Bonaparte's proclamation '
against the Swiss. Paley's Natural Theology • 424 !

1803. i

CXX.— r© M. DuMONT. Edinburgh Review. Lord King. ''

War with France. Influence of Pitt. Fox ; Tiemey. ■

Bonaparte's detention of English travellers. Bentham >

426 :

CXXI. — 7b Madame G. Domestic happiness. Profession of .

the law. Bowood 428 \

NARRATIVE OF EVENTS IN 1805.

Romilly appointed Chancellor of Durham ; circumstances which '
led to the appointment ; Mr. Bernard ; duties of the office ; limited '
number of causes; reception at Durham. — Offer of a seat in par- '
liament from the Prince of Wales; Creevey ; Miss Seymour; '
Mrs. Fitzherbert; answer to Creevey's letter ; Princess of Wales; '
Lady Douglas; Lord Thurlow .... 429—446

Appendix 447—458

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^" 4^

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MEMOIRS

SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY.

NARKAflVE OF HIS EARLY LIFfi WRITTEN BY HIMSELF
IN 1796.

1751— 1718. , ^,, ,,^

August 16, 1796.
I SIT clown to write my life ; the life of one who never
achieved anything memorahle, who will probahly leave no
posterity, and the memory of whom is therefore likely to
survive him only till the last of a few remaining and affec-
tionate friends shall have followed him to the grave. A
subject so uninteresting will hardly awaken the curiosity
of any one into whose hands this writing may chance to
faU, and I may almost be assured of having no reader but
myself^ In truth, it is for myself that I write, for myself
alone ; for my own instruction, and my own amusement
In old age, if I should live to be old, I may find a plea-
sure, congenial to that season of life, in retracing the
actions and sentiments of my youth and of my manhood,
less imperfectly than by the aid of an impaired and de-
caying memory, and as it were in living again with rela-
tions and with friends long deceased.

If I had the inclination, I have not the means, of speak-
ing of many of my ancestors. The first of them that I
have ever heard of is my great-grandfather ; and of him
I know little more than that he had a pretty good landed
estate at Montpellier. in the south of France, where he
resided. He was a Protestant, but living under the reli-
gious tyranny of Louis XIV., and in a part of France
where persecution raged with the greatest fury, he found
it prudent to dissemble his^ fkithy and it was only in the

▼OL. I. B

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2 NABRATIVE OP 1757-78.

privacy of his own family that he ventured to worship
Grod in the way which he judged would find favour in His
sight. His only son, my grandfather, he educated in his
own religious principles, and so deeply did the young man
imbibe them that, when he was about seventeen years of
age, * he made a journey to Geneva for the sole purpose of
there receiving the sacrament. It was a journey which
had most important consequences to his posterity, and to
which I owe that I was not born under the despotism of
the French monarchy, and that I have not fallen a victim
to the more cruel despotism which succeeded it. At
Geneva my grandfather met with the celebrated Saurin,
who happened to be on a visit there. The reputation of
that extraordinary man was then at the highest. He was
revered as an apostle ; and his eloquence and his authority
could not fail to make a forcible impression on a young
mind deeply tinctured with that religious fervour which
persecution generally inspires. The result of a few con-
versations was a fixed determination in my grandfather
to abandon for ever his native country, his connexions,
his friends, his affectionate parents, and the inheritance
which awaited him ; and to trust to his own industry for
a subsistence amidst strangers, and in a foreign land, but
in the enjoyment of civil and religious liberty. Instead
of returning to Montpellier, he set out for London ; and
it was not till he had landed in England that he apprized
his father of the irrevocable resolution which he had
formed. He, at first, met with much more prosperity in
the country, which he had thus adopted, than he could
have had reason to expect. His father endeavoiured to
alleviate the hardships of his exile by remitting him
money ; and, after he had been a few years in England,
he set up with a tolerable capital at Hoxton, in the neigh-
bourhood of London, in the business of a wax- bleacher.
He soon afterwards married Judith de Monsallier,t the

* In 1701 : he waa bom in 1684.

f She was one of four children of Francis de Monsallier : the
other three were also daughters ; Lucy, married to Solomon Pages ;
Anne Marie Picart, married to a person of the name of De Laferty ;
and Elizabeth, married to [Samuel] Fludyer. See the will of Francis

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1757—78. HIS EABLY LIFE, PAKT I. 3

daughter of another French refugee, and he hecame the
father of a very numerous family. His generosity, his
piety, his afPection for his wife, his tenderness towards his
children, and their reciprocal fondness and veneration for
him, are topics on which I have often heard my father
and my aimts enlarge with the most lively emotion. His
generosity, indeed, was such, that it led him into expenses
which the profits of his business alone would have ill ena*
bled him to support ; but he had a better resource in the
remittances which he was seldom long without receiving
from his father.

This resource, however, at last faOed, and a sad reverse
of fortune ensued. His father died: a distant relatioa
(but the next heir who was a Catholic) took possession of
the estate, and my grandfather was reduced to a very
scanty income for the subsistence of his large family;
difficulties were soon «(iultiplied upon him, and bank-
ruptcy and poverty were the consequences. His gentle
spirit sunk under these calamities, and he died at the
age of forty-nine of a broken heart, leaving behind him a
widow, fom* sons, and four daughters, and most of them
wholly unprovided for.* To them, though they were all
of an age to discern the full extent of the melancholy
prospect before them, all misfortunes appeared light in
comparison with the loss of such a parent; and the
yoimgest of them, whose nam« was Joseph, abandoning
himself to grief and despair, was within a few months
buried in the grave which had recently closed upon his
father.

Of the three remaining sons, Stephen, Isaac, and Peter,
my father was the youngest. He was born in the year
1712, and had been bound by my grandfather an appren-
tice to a jeweller, of the name of Lafosse, who lived in
Broad Street, in tiie City.

During his apprenticeship he contracted a great intih

de If oDfiiHier, dated ftth May, 1735. When he died does not ajK
pear, buttfaere is a codicil to hu will, dated 13th Oct., 1726.

* He died in 1733. His four daughters were Ann, afterwards
married to * * * * Gibbons ; Catherine, who married * * * * Hunter;
and Martha and Margaret, who were never married.

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4 NARRATIVE OP 1757—78.

macy with one of his fellow-apprentices of the name of
Garnault, who was, like himself, the son of a Protestant
refugee. This lad had a sister, to whom my father was
introduced, and his acquaintance with her soon grew up
into a mutual passion. The hrother long encouraged it ;
but afterwards, either from a change in his own prospects
in life, founded on a hope which he conceived that a rich
uncle would leave him his estate, or from mere caprice,
he began to look on my father with coolness, disapproved
the visits to his sister, and at last desired that they might
be discontinued. She had no money, indeed, but she had
rich relations, and they too were averse to her marrying
a young man without fortune, and with no other expecta-
tions than what industry, honesty, youth, and good health
could enable him to form. The passion, however, which,
under the sanction of her nearest relations, she had in-
dulged, had taken too strong possession of her mind to be
dismissed just as they should dictate ; but what she could
do she did, she submitted to their authority, resigned all
hopes of marrying my father, and gave herself up to a de-
spair which destroyed her health, and endangered her life.
My father soon afterwards quitted the kingdom, and
went to reside at Paris. There he continued for a con-
siderable time, working as a journeyman in his business ;
and having saved out of his little earnings a small sum
of money, he employed it in making an excursion into
the south of France. Montpellier was amongst the places
which he visited ; and he did not fail to take a view of
the family estate, now in the possession of strangers and
irrecoverably lost, since it could be redeemed only by
falsehood and apostacy.

^ In this part of the manuscript there is a considerable erasure.
The writer had no doubt proceeded to give an account of his father's
marriage, and of the circumstances connected with that event ; but
dissatisfied, as it would seem, with what he had written, he expunged
several pages. This chasm in the narrative he never afterwards filled
up \ and the papers he has left do not afford any materials from
which to supply the deficiency, beyond the fact that Miss Gamault's
family at length consented to her union with Mr. RomUly's father,
which accordingly took place. — ^Ed.

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1767-78. HIS EARLY UPE. PART L 5

His children were his greatest delight ; and yet of the
six eldest of those children, five died in infancy. The
sixth, a girl, lived indeed a few years longer, but she
lived only till she had taken stronger hold of his affec-
tions, and then was torn from him like the rest. The
death of this favourite child was considered by my father
as the greatest calamity of his life. Her extraordinary
perfections, my father's doting love of her, his habit of
waking her in the morning by playing on a flute at the
side of her bed, his anxious solicitude during her illness,
and the violence of his grief at the loss of her, have
been often described to me. I was not born^ myself till
several years after her death.

Naturally, my father was of the most cheerful and
happy disposition, always in good humour, always kind
and indulgent, always, even in the worst circumstances,
disposed to expect the best, enjoying all the good he met
with in life, and consoling himself under adversity with
the hope that it would not be of long duration. Of ex-
treme sensibility, and quick in expressing what he felt,
he was subject to violent transports of anger ; but they
were always short and transient, and left not the least
trace of resentment behind, not even where a real injury
had been done him : warm and persevering in his friend-
ship, he can hardly be said to have ever entertained an
enmity. He was very religious, but his religion was
without austerity: and, though he did not fail to read
prayers in the midst of his family every Sunday, he at-
tached much less importance to the forms of religion than
to the substance of it ; and the substance he thought con-
sisted in doing good to our fellow-creatures. His charity
far exceeded the means of his fortune, and he sometimes
indulged it to a degree which cold discretion might tax
with imprudence. At a time when he had but a slender
income, and a numerous family, it happened that he fre-
quently observed in a street in his neighbourhood a
woman lying at a door in rags and dirt, half naked, and
apparently in extreme distress, yet generally intoxicated j

' He was bom on the Ist of March, 1757. — Ed.

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( NARRATIVE OF 1757-^78.

she had a female infant by her side, who was crying for
bread, but to whose cries she seemed insensible. My
father's imagination was forcibly struck by this spectacle
of wretchedness and depravity. He pictured to himself,
in strong colours, the fate to which the wretched child
seemed devoted, and he determined if possible to save her.
He applied to the woman, who, without diflSculty, parted
with the child, of which she did not pretend to be the
mother. He clothed her, maintained her for several
years, had her taught to read and work, and when she
had grown up to a proper age, provided for her the place
of a servant, and had the satisfaction to see her in that
situation living for many years with reputation and com-
fort.

There was one occurrence, and that a very important
one, in his life, in which he acted with such unexampled
disinterestedness, and made so extraordinary a sacrifice of
his happiness to what he conceived to be his duty, that
it is with great reluctance that I deny myself the satis-
faction of relating it ; but it is unfortunately connected
with transactions the memory of which might give great
pain to persons now living, and who perhaps may survive
me. My father, therefore, I am sure, would be sorry that
it should be remembered, and I suppress what would
add so largely to his praise from a pious respect for his
benevolence.

He used often to talk to his children of the pleasure of
doing good, and of the rewards which virtue found in
itself ; and from his lips that doctrine came to us, not as
a dry and illusive precept, but as a heartfelt truth, and as
the fruit of the happiest experience.

All my father's favourite amusements were such as his
home only could afford liim. He was fond of reading,
and he had formed for himself a small, but a tolerably well-
chosen, library. He was an admirer of the fine arts, but,
pictures being too costly for his purchase, he limited
himself to prints; and in the latter part of his life, as he
grew richer, indulging himself in this innocent luxury to
a degree perhaps of extravagance, he had at last a very
large and valuable collection. He took pleasure in gar-
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1757-78. HIS E^RLY UFE, PAKT I. f

dening, and he hired a small garden, in which he passed
in the summer most of the few leisure hours which his
business afPorded him. But I am anticipating a subse*
qucnt period.

The loss of so many children filled my father with
consternation. He began to ascribe it to the unwhole-
someness of a constant town residence, and he determined
to take a small lodging in the country, where his family
might, during the summer months, breathe a purer air
than that of London. He accordingly hired some rooms
at Marylebone, which was then a small village about a
mile distant from town, though it- has now, for many
years, by the increase of new buildings, been united to,
and become a part of the metropolis. My father had
reason to congratulate himself upon the success of this
experiment, for all the children which he afterwards had
lived to years of maturity. They were only three ; my
brother Thomas, my sister Catherine, and myself.

We were brought up principally by a very kind and
pious female relation of my mother's, a Mrs. Margaret
Facquier, who had lived in our family ever since my
mother's marriage. She taught us to read, and to read
with intelligence ; though the books in which we were
taught were ill suited to our age. The Bible, the Spec-
tator, and an English translation of Telemachus, are those
which I recollect our having in most frequent use. But
this kind relation had too bad a state of health to attend
to us constantly. During the last forty years of her life,
it seldom happened that many weeks passed without her
being confined to her bed, or at least to her room. The
care of us, upon these occasions, devolved on a female
servant of the name of Mary Evans, who was ill qualified
to give us instruction or to cultivate our understandings ;
but whose tender and affectionate nature, whose sensi-
bility at the sufferings of others, and earnest desire to
relieve them to the utmost extent of her little means,
could hardly fail to improve the hearts of those who were
under her care.

Perhaps there hardly ever existed three persons more
affectionate, more kind, more compassionate, and whose

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g nabrauve of 17»7— ts.

sentiments and whose example were better calculated to
inspire every soft and generous affection, than these two
excellent women and our most excellent father. It was
under the influence of these examples that we passed our
earliest years ; as for my mother, she was incapable, from
the bad state of her health, of taking any part in our
education.

The servant whom I have mentioned was to me in the
place of a mother. I loved her to adoration. I remem-
ber, when quite a child, kissing, unperceived by her, the
clothes which she wore ; and when she once entertained
a design of quitting our family and going to live with her
own relations, receiving the news as that of the greatest
misfortune that could befal me, and going up into my
room in an agony of affliction, and imploring God upon
my knees to avert so terrible a calamity.

It is commonly said to be the happy privilege of youth
to feel no misfortunes but the present, to be careless of
the future, and forgetful of the past. That happy pri-
vilege I cannot recollect having ever enjoyed. In my
earliest infancy, my imagination was alarmed and my
fears awakened by stories of devils, witches, and appari-
tions ; and they had a >nuch greater effect upon me than
is even usual with children; at least 1 judge so, from
their effect being of a more than usual duration. The
images of terror with which those tales abound, infested
my imagination very long after I had discarded all belief
in the tales themselves, and in the notions on which they
are built ; and even now, although I have been accustomed
for many years to pass my evenings and my nights in so-
litude, and without even a servant sleeping in my cham-
bers, I must, with some shame, confess that they are
sometimes very unwelcome intruders upon my thoughts.
I often recollect, and never without shuddering, a story
which, in my earliest childhood (for my memory hardly
reaches beyond it), I overheard, as I lay in bed, related
by an old woman who was employed about our house, of
a servant murdering his master; and particularly that
part of it where the murderer, with a knife in his hand,
had crept, in the dead of night, to the side of the bed in

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1757—76. HIS EARLY UFE, FART L Q

which his master lay asleep, and when, as from a momen-
tary compunction, he was hesitating before he executed
his bloody purpose, he on a sudden heard a deep hollow
voice whispering close to his ear in a commanding tone
'* that he should accomplish his design I"

But it was not merely such extravagant stories that
disturbed my peace ; as dreadful an impression was made
on me by relations of murders and acts of cruelty. The
prints, which I found in the lives of the martyrs and the
Newgate Calendar, have cost me many sleepless nights.
My dreams, too, were disturbed by the hideous images
which haunted my imagination by day. I thought myself
present at executions, murders, and scenes of blood ; and
I have often lain in bed agitated by my terrors, equally
afraid of remaining awake in the dark, and of falling
asleep to encounter the horrors of my dreams. Often
have I in my evening prayers to God- besought him, with
the utmost fervour, to suffer me to pass the night undis-
turbed by horrid dreams.

I had other apprehensions^ and some of a kind which
are commonly reserved for maturer years. I was op-
pressed with a constant terror of death, not indeed for
myself, but for my father, whose life was certainly much
dearer to me than my own. I never looked on his coun-
tenance, on which care and affliction had deeply imprinted
premature marks of old age, without reflecting that there
could not be many years of his excellent life still to come.
If he returned home later than usual, though but half an
hour, a thousand accidents presented themselves to my
mind ; and, when put to bed, I lay sleepless and in the
most tormenting anxiety till I heard him knock. This
state of mind became so habitual to me, that an uneasi-
ness and a foreboding of some misfortune came upon me
regularly about half an hour before the usual time of his
return, and went on increasing till the moment of his
arrival. So far, indeed, was I from endeavouring to over-
come this weakness, that I willingly encouraged it, from
a strange idea which I had conceived, that by dreading
misfortunes I prevented them, and that the calamity
r%ich I feared would, whenever it happened, come upon

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10 NARRATIVE OF 1767--78;

me quite unawares. I took a pleasure therefore in in^
dulging my terrors, and reproached myself if ever I felt
a moment of security.

The idea of my father's approaching death pursued
me even in the midst of scenes which seemed most likely
to dispel such gloomy reflections. I rememher once ac-
companying him to the theatre on a night when Garrick
acted. The play was Zara, and it was followed by the
farce of Lethe. The inimitable and various powers of
acting which were displayed by that admirable performer
in both those pieces, could not for a moment drive from
my mind the dismal idea which haunted me. In the
aged Lusignan I saw what my father in a few years
would be, tottering on the brink of the grave ; and when
in the farce the old man desires to drink the waters of
Lethe that he may forget how old he is, I thought that
the same idea must naturally present itself to my father;
that he must see as clearly as I did that his death could
not be at the distance of many years ; and that, notwith-
standing his apparent cheerfulness, that idea must often
prey upon his mind, and poison his happiness more even
than it did mine. I looked at his countenance as he was
sitting by me, persuaded myself that I observed a change
in his features, conjectured that the same painful reflec-
tions had occurred to him as had to me, repented of having
entered the theatre, and returned from it as sad and as
dejected as I could have done from a funeral.

The anxiety which I constantly felt about my father
strengthened in me the natural inclination which I always
had for a life of peace and tranquillity, and gave me such
an aversion, and even a terror, of every kind of tumult
and disturbance, as I can hardly describe. It was not
often that my father took us to any public amusements :
it did, however, sometimes happen ; and my mother,
whenever her health would allow of it, was of the party.
My father, as I have already observed, was of a temper
warm and impatient of injury, and his solicitude for the
beloved objects which he had under his charge made him
resent, with an unnecessary degree of warmth and vio-
ence, the incivility of those who happened to crowd upon

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n57-.78. HIS £ARLT LIFE, PART I. H

US, or in any way to incommode ns. The dread of such
quarTe]s, and of what might he the consequence of them
to him, always depressed my spirits when in any place of
puhlic resort: and the greatest pleasure I readied from
those kinds of amusements was the satisfaction with
which, upon our return home, I reflected that he was
safe, as if there had heen some mighty danger which he
had escaped.

My infancy and my childhood, though they were thus
clouded, did not however pass without many gleams of
sunshine. My spirits were often high, even to a degree
of tumult and intoxication, and my imagination was not
always employed upon melancholy suhjects. My imagi-
nation, indeed, was the faculty which I most exercised,
and it was often very husily employed when those ahout
me were little aware of it. During the winter months we
were always very regular on Sundays in our morning and
evening attendance at church. My father had a pew in
one of the French chapels which had heen established
when the Protestant refugees first emigrated into Eng-
land, and he required us to attend alternately there and
at the parish church. It was a kind of homage which he
paid to the faith of his ancestors, and it was a means of
rendering the French language familiar to us: but nothing
was ever worse calculated to inspire the mind of a child
with respect for religion than such a kind of religious
worship. Most of the descendants of the refugees were
bom and bred in England, and desired nothing less than
to preserve the memory of their origin ; and their chapels
were therefore ill attended. A large uncouth room, the
avenues to which were narrow courts and dirty alleys, and
which, when you entered it, presented to the view only
irregular unpainted pews and dusty plastered walls; a
congregation consisting principally of some strange-look-
ing old women scattered here and there, one or two in a
pew ; and a clergyman reading the service and preaching
in a monotonous tone of voice, and in a language not
familiar to me, was not likely either to impress my mind
with much religious awe, or to attract my attention to
the doctrines which were delivered. In truth, I did not

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12 NARRATIVE OF 1757-^8.

even attempt to attend to them ; my mind was wandering
to other subjects, and disporting itself in much gayer
scenes than those before me, and little of religion was
mixed in my reveries.

But it is time to say something of my education, if the
little instruction I ever received from masters deserves to
be so cailed. My brother and myself were sent, when
we were very young, to a day-school in our neighbour-
hood, of which the sole recommendation seems to have
been, that it had once been kept by a French refugee, and
that the sons of many refugees were still scholars at it.
All the learning which it afforded we were to receive ; but
the utmost that our master professed to teach was read*
ing, writing, arithmetic, French, and Latin, and the last
was rather inserted in his bill of fare by way of ornar
ment, and to give a dignity and character to the school,
than that there was any capacity of teaching it either in
our master or in any of his ushers. I doubt whether any
one of them was capable of construing a single sentence of
the easiest Latin prose. Our master was ignorant, severe,
and brutal : my brother and myself, however, escaped the
effects of those bad qualities, by the help of others which
he possessed; for towards his scholars he was unequal
and partial, and we were both among his favourites. The
severity with which he treated many of the other boys,
however, often excited my indignation and aversion;
and I often burned with shame at not being among the
victims of his injustice. He had very bad health, and
his disorder gave an edge to his ill-humour, and kept it
in constant activity. Many a poor boy have I seen over-
whelmed with stripes because our master had a sleepless
night, or felt the symptoms of a returning rheumatism.
Young as I then was, I was struck with the bad effects of
this severe treatment. There were some boys who were
always in scrapes, continually playing truant, and con-
tinually punished with increasing severity. Their faults,
and the mischievousness of their dispositions, seemed to
increase in proportion to the severity with which they
were treated. The observation, however, could not, by
daily experience, force itself upon the mind of so

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1757—78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART L 13

thorough-bred a schoolmaster as Mr. Flack. He would
as soon have doubted that food is the proper remedy for
hunger, as that blows and stripes are the only genuine
promoters of goodness, and incentives to virtue. From
the nature of the school may be conjectured what was, in
general, the description of the scholars. They consisted,
principally, of the sons of all the barbers, bakers, and
butchers in the neighbourhood ; and the superior gentility
of my father's trade was, I believe, the contemptible mo-
tive for the favour which we experienced. At this miser-
able seminary we continued for several years, and the
only acquisitions that we made at it were writing, arith-
metic, and the rules of the French grammar. The more
familiar use of that language we acquired at home; it
being a rule established by my father that French should
be spoken in the family on a Sunday morning, the only
time which a constant attendance to business allowed him
to pass with us.

My father was particularly desirous that I should learn
Latin, and Latin was among the things which my master
professed to teach me ; but, after the account which' I
have ghren of my instructors, it is unnecessary to say that
I made no proficiency in it. The motive with my father
for wishing me to learn it was a desire, which he enter-
tained, that I should enter into the profession of the law ;
as he destined my brother to succeed himself in his busi-
ness. But those plans, which he had formed in his own
mind, were formed in perfect subordination to what might
be our own choice ; it being a fixed opinion of his, that
few men succeeded in any profession which they have not
themselves chosen. He endeavoured, however, by his con -
versation, to give me a favourable opinion of the way of life
of a lawyer, an attorney I should say, for his ideas certainly
soared no higher. But, unfortunately for the success of his
plan, there was one attorney, and only one, among his
acquaintance, a certain Mr. Liddel, who lived in Thread-
needle Street, in the City, and was, I believe, a man emi-
nent enough in his line. He was a shortish fat man, with
a ruddy countenance, which always shone as if besmeared
with grease ; a large wig which sat loose from his head ;

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14 NARBATIVB OF 1767-78.

his eyes constantly half shut and drowsy ; all his motions
slow and deliberate ; and his words slabbered out as if he
had not exertion enough to articulate. His dark and
gloomy house was filled with dusty papers and voluminous
parchment deeds ; and in his meagre library I did not
see a single volume which I should not have been deterred
by its external appearance from opening. The idea of a
lawyer and of Mr. liddel were so identified in my mind,
that I looked upon the profession with disgust, and en-
treated my father to think of any way of. life for me but
that ; and, accordingly, all thoughts of my being an at-
torney were given up as well by my father as myself.

But my father was not long without forming other
schemes for me. Sir Samuel Fludyer, and his brother
Sir Thomas, who were at the head of a great commercial
house in the city, were his cousins-german ; two of his
brothers,* my uncles, had been partners in the house,
and he began to entertain hopes of my arriving in time
at the same situation. The Fludyers had began their
career in very narrow circumstances ; but, by extraordi-
nary industry, activity, enterprise, and good fortune, they
had acquired inordinate wealth, and were every day
increasing it by the profits of a most extensive commerce.
Sir Samuel was an alderman of the city of London, and
a member of Parliamentt He had been created a baronet ;>
and had served the office of Lord Mayor in a year very
memorable in the history of city honours ;* for it was that
in which the king, upon his marriage, made a visit to the
corporation and dined in Guildhall. Notwithstanding,
however, the great elevation at which fortune had placed
these opulent relations above my father, they always
maintained a very friendly intercourse with him, and
professed, perhaps sincerely, a great desire to serve him.
Sir Samuel, too, was my god-father; and the humble
situation of a clerk in his counting-house might, if I had
pleased him by my conduct, have led to a very brilliant
fortune. My father therefore determined to fit me for

* Stephen and Isaac. f For Ghippenham.

» On Nov. 13, 1756.--ED. « In 1761.— Ed.

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17*7—78, HIS EARLY LIFE. PART L 15

that situation, and it was resolved that I should learn the
art, or science (I know not which it should be called), of
keeping merchants' accounts. A master was accordingly
provided for me. I was equipped with a set of journals,
waste hooks, bill books, ledgers, and I know ; not what ;
and I passed some weeks in making careful entries of
ideal transactions, keeping a register of the times when
fictitious bills of exchange would become due, and posting
up imaginary accounts. I should have lost more time
than I did in this ridiculous employment, if my instructor,
Mr. Johnson, as he was called, (but whose name was per-
haps as fictitious as those of my correspondents at Am-
sterdam, at Smyrna, and in both the Indies, and to whose
merits my father had been introduced only by an adver-
tisement in a newspaper,) had not suddenly decamped to
avoid his creditors. Events which soon afterwards happened
made it unnecessary to look out for a new professor of
the mercantile science. Sir Samuel Fludyer died of an
apoplexy ; Sir Thomas did not long survive him ; and all
the prospects of riches and honours which we thought
opening upon me, were shut out for ever.

Other plans were now to be thought of, and my father
talked at one time of placing me as an apprentice with a
jeweller and silversmith in Cheapside. Neither this, how-
ever, nor any other scheme was carried into execution.
What prevented them I do not recollect ; but at the age
of fourteen, when I had left school, I remained at home
without any certain destination, and my father began to
employ me in his business, at first because I had no other
occupation, and afterwards with a view to its being carried
on by me and my brother when he should decline it.

A short time before his marriage, my father had set up
for himself as a jeweller ; and by his diligence and honesty
in his dealings, and the taste andj merit of his workman-
ship, he had so much extended his business, and had
acquired in it such celebrity, that, for several years,
about the period of which I am now speaking, its returns
were not less than twenty thousand pounds a year. With
all this, however, he had not acquired much riches by it.
He had contented himself with very moderate profits, and

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16 NARRATIVE OF 1767—78.

that not at the beginning only, and as a means of establish-
ing his name, but when his reputation was at the highest
and he was obliged to decline much of the business that
was oifered him. His easy and unsuspecting nature, too,
had induced him to give credit incautiously, and his losses
had been considerable. The business itself, however, if
properly and skilfully managed, would afford very ample
profits, was capable of being much enlarged, and might
be considered as a very good provision both for me and
for my brother.

My new employment was merely to keep my father's
accounts, and sometimes to see and receive orders from
his customers. In this occupation about two years of
my life were spent. It was an occupation which never
pleased me but in one respect ; it imposed little restraint
upon me, and left me many hours of leisure. These
I employed in reading, which had been for some time
my principal amusement. I read, without system or
object, just such books as fell in my way, such as my father's
library afforded, and such as several circulating libraries,
to which I subscribed in succession, could supply. Ancient
history, English poetry, and works of criticism, were, how-
ever, my favourite subjects ; and poetry soon began to
predominate over them all. After a few attempts, I found
myself, to my unspeakable joy, possessed of a tolerable
faculty of rhyming, which I mistook for a talent for poetry.
I wrote eclogues, songs, and satires, made translations of
Boileau, and attempted imitations of Spenser. My feeble
verses and puerile images were received with the most
flattering applause by my family, and afforded supreme
delight to myself. I was soon persuaded that I possessed
no inconsiderable share of genius. My father's business
became every day more unpleasant to me, and I lamented
that I had not been educated for some profession connected
with literature. I considered that it was not yet too late
for me, with an abundance of zeal, to make a very great
progress. I determined, therefore, when I was between
fifteen and sixteen years of age, to apply myself seriously
to learning Latin, of which I, at that time, knew little more
than some of the most familiar rules of grammar. Having

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1757-78. HIS BABLY UFE, PART I. 17

made myself tolerably master of the grammar, I was for-
tunate enough to meet with a very good scholar in a
Scotchman of the name of Paterson, who kept a school
in Bury Street, St. James's, and who became my instructor.
From him I every day received a lesson, which consisted
in his correcting my Latin exercises, and hearing me
construe a few pages of some Latin author. But the hour
I passed with him was a very small portion of the time
which I every day dedicated to this new study. I con-
sumed the greatest part of my time in poring over Caesar,
livy, and Cicero ; in consulting, at every difficulty, the
translations of those authors which I had procured ; and
in making translations of my own, first from Latin into
English, and then back again into Latin.

In the course of three or four years, during which I
thus applied myself, I had read every prose writer of the
ages of pure Latinity, except those who have treated merely
of technical subjects, such as Varro, Columella, and Cel-
sus. I had gone three times through the whole of Livy,
Sallust, and Tacitus : I had read all Cicero, with the excep-
tion, I believe, only of his Academic questions, and his
treatises De Finibus, and De Divinatione. I had studied
the most celebrated of his orations, his Lcelius, his Cato
ASajor, his treatise De Oraiore, and his Letters, and had
translated a great part of them. Terence, Virgil, Horace,
Ovid, and Juvenal, I had read again and again. From
Ovid and from Virgil I made my translations in verse, for
so I ought to call them, rather than poetical translations.
At the time, however, they appeared to me to have such
merit, that I remember reading with triumph, first Dry-
den's translations, and then my own, to my good-natured
relations, who concurred with me in thinking that I had
left poor Dryden at a most humiliating distance ; a proof
certainly, not of the merit of my verses, but of the bad-
ness of my judgment, the excess of my vanity, and the
blind partiality of my friends.

In ranging through such a variety of authors and study-
ing their works, I did not imagine that I was doing any
thing extraordinary. With great simplicity, I supposed
that a similar course of reading entered into the plan of

yoL. I. c

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18 NARRATIVE OF , 1767—78.

education adopted at our public schools and Universitiea.
Greek I attempted, but with no success ; and, after seri-
ously considering the difficulties which the language pre-
sented, and the little probability that there was at my time
of life of my ever becoming completely master of it, or
even of my making in it any tolerable progress, mthout
sacrificing a large portion of time which might be more
usefully employed, I renounced the hope of ever reading
the Greek writers in the original. I determined, however,
to read them ; and I went through the most considerable
of the Greek historians, orators, and philosophers, in the
Latin versions, which generally accompanied the original
text.

My reading had been so various, that I had acquired
some slight knowledge of a good many sciences. Travels
had been one of my favourite subjects ; and, as I seldom
read either travels or history without maps before me, I
had acquired a tolerable stock of geographical knowledge.
I had read, too, a good deal of natural history, and had
attended several courses of lectures on natural philosophy,
given by Martin, the optician in Fleet Street, by Fergu-
son, and by Walker.

My father's taste for pictures and prints could hardly
fail of being communicated to his children. I found a
great source of amusement in turning over the prints he
was possessed of, became a great admirer of pictures,
never omitted an opportunity of seeing a good collection,
knew the peculiar style of almost every master, and attend-^
ed the lectures on painting, architectiure, and anatomy,
which were given at the Royal Academy.

Such were my pursuits and my amusements ; but these
were not my only amusements. My father's house fur-
nished me with others most congenial to my disposition.
Several happy changes had by this time taken place in our
family. As my mother advanced in age her constitution
was strengthened, and she at last recovered a good state of
health. Our family had been increased and enlivened by
two female cousins, the children of my uncle Isaac, who
had been left orphans in their infancy by the premature
and almost sudden death of both their parents within a

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1757—78. HIS EABLT LIFE. PAKT I. 19

few days of each other. Immediately after that melancholy
event had happened. Sir Samuel Flndyer took the eldest
under his guardianship, and Sir Thomas the youngest ;
but a few years only passed before death reduced them
both to a second orphanage. Their sprightly society and
amiable dispositions contributed most essentiaUy to the
happiness of us all.

The eldest, particularly, added to the utmost sweetness
of temper, extraordinary accomplishments and uncommon
beauty. Her charms were really most captivating, and
both my brother and myself felt the effects of them . Mine,
however, was the love of a child, and soon yielded to my
brother's more earnest passion, which increased and
strengthened with time, and was many years afterwards
rewarded by marriage. They have ever since lived
happy in each other and in their children, siurrounded at
this moment by eight of them, and having never for a
single instant had their harmony interrupted.

Among other changes a very considerable one had
taken place in my father*s circumstances. A very rich
relation of my mother's, a Mr. de la Haize, had died, and
had left us very large legacies. To me and to my brother
2000/. a-piece, to my sister 3000/., to my father, my mo-
ther, and Mrs. Facquier, legacies of about the same amount
for their lives with remainder to my brother, my sister,
and myself, and to each of us a share of the residue of his
fortune equally with the rest of his legatees. The whole
property bequeathed to us amounted together to about
14.000/. or 15,000/. Blessed be his memory for it! ^But
for this legacy, the portion of my life which is already
past must have been spent in a manner the most irksome
and painful, and my present condition would probably
have been wretched and desperate. I should have engaged
in business ; I should probably have failed of success in it ;
and I should at this moment have been without fortune,
without credit, and without the means of acquiring either,
and, what would have been most painful to me, my nearest
relations would have been without resources.

Upon receiving so large an accession to his fortune, my
father removed out of his country lodgings into a house.

bySA)Ogk

20 NABRATIVE OP 1757—78

still however at Marylebone; though, by the increase of
the new buildings, it had ceased to be the country, and was
merely the outskirts of London. There our whole family
now resided throughout the year, what had been our town-
house being appropriated entirely to business. Our new
house was in High Street, and, to judge from its external
appearance, its narrow form, its two small windows on a
floor, and the little square piece of ground behind it, which
was dignified with the name of a garden, one would have
supposed that very scanty and very homely, indeed, must
have been this our comparative opiQence and luxury. But
those who had mingled in our family, and had hearts to
leel in what real happiness consists, would have formed a
very dififerent judgment They would have found a lively,
youthful, and accomplished society, blest with every enjoy-
ment that an endearing home can afford; a society imited
by a similarity of tastes, dispositions, and affections, as well
as by the strongest ties of blood. They would have ad-
mired our lively, varied, and innocent pleasures ; our sum-
mer rides and walks in the cheerful country, which was
close to us ; our winter-evening occupations of drawing,
while one of us read aloud some interesting book, or the
eldest of my cousins played and sung to us with exquisite
taste and expression ; the little banquets with which we
celebrated the anniversary of my father's wedding, and of
the birth of every member of our happy society ; and the
dances with which, in spite of the smallness of our rooms,
we were frequently indulged. I cannot recollect the days,
happily I may say the years, which thus passed away,
without the most lively emotion. I love to transport my-
self in idea into our little parlour with its green paper,
and the beautiful prints of Vivares, Bartolozzi, and Strange,
from tb^ pictures of Claude, Carracci, Raphael, and Cor-
reggio, with which its walls were elegantly adorned ; and
to call again to mind the familiar and affectionate society
of young and old intermixed, which was gathered round
the fire ; and even the Italian greyhound, the cat and the
spaniel, which lay in perfect harmony basking before it
I delight to see the door open, that I may recognise the
friendly countenances of the servants, and above all of

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1757—78. HIS EiULLY LIFE. PART I. 21

the old nurse* to whom we were all endeared, because it
was while she attended my mother that her health had so
much improved.

But yet with such means of happiness, and in the midst
of ei^oyments so well suited to my temper and disposition,
I was not completely happy. The melancholy to which I
had from my childhood been subject, at intervals oppressed
me ; and my happiness was often poisoned by the reflec-
tion, that at some time or other it must end.

The dislike which I had conceived for my father's busi-
ness every day increased, and I earnestly wished for some
other employment. My indxilgent father readily yielded
to my wishes, and, after some consideration, it was deter-
mined that I should enter into some department of the law.
The Commons were first thought of; but it was afterwards
judged, by the friends whom my father consulted, that a
more advantageous situation for me would be the office of
the Six Clerks in Chancery. This was accordingly de-
cided on ; and, at the age of sixteen, I was articled to Mr.
William Michael Lally, one of the sworn clerks in Chancery,
for a period of five years. The prejudice which Mr. Liddel
had inspired me with against all lawyers had been before
this time removed ; but if any vestige of it had remained,
it must have yielded to the temper and manners of Mr.
Lally. A strong natural understanding, improved by much
general reading, and much knowledge of the world, a high
sense of honour, the purest integrity, a very brilliant fancy,
great talents for conversation, an extraordinary flow of
spirits, and a most convivial disposition, were the predomi-
nant characteristics of this amiable and estimable man.

I had not, it was not possible indeed that I should have>
any accurate idea of the business of a sworn clerk in Chan-
cery till I had adopted it for my profession. I^ business
lies in a very narrow compass : it consists almost entirely
in making copies of bills, answers, and other pleadings in
Chancery ; in receiving notices of motions to be made in
suits, and the service of orders pronounced by the court,
and transmitting them to the solicitors of the different
suitors ; and in occasional attendance upon the Court of
Chancery at the hearing of causes, and upon the masters

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22 NABBATIVEOF 1757—78.

in Chancery when they are proceeding upon matters re-
ferred to them. Except these attendances, all the business
of a clerk in coiurt is transacted at a public office in Chan-
cery Lane. Mr. Lally acted, as indeed did ^most of the
other clerks, as a solicitor in Chancery as well as a clerk
in court ; and his business of a solicitor procured me
much more attendance upon the court, and in the masters'
offices, than I should have otherwise had. In these occu-
pations I found no amusement, and took little interest ;
but they still left me a great deal of leisure. The office
was open only during certain hours of the day. In the
time of vacation, and in one season of the year for three
months together, no attendance was required. The pa-
ternal house still continued to be my home, and I still had
the means of pursuing, with little intermission, my fa-
vourite studies and amusements. I had soon laid out the
plan of my future life, which was to follow my profession
just as far as was necessary for my subsistence, and to as-
pire to fame by my literary pursuits. For a few years I
still cultivated that talent for poetry which I supposed
myself to possess. But insensibly as my judgment im-
proved, my self-admiration abated ; I even grew dissatisfied
vnth what I wrote, and before I had obtained my nine-
teenth year I had the sense, and I may say the good taste,
to wean myself entirely from the habit of versifying. I
did not, however, relinquish the pleasing hope, for such it
was to me, of becoming a very distinguished author. I
began, therefore, to exercise myself in prose compositions ;
and, judging translations to be the most useful exercise
for forming a style, I rendered into English the finest
models of writing that the Latin language afforded ; almost
all the speeches in livy, very copious extracts from Taci-
tus, the whole of Sallust, and many of the finest passages
in Cicero. With the same view of improving my style, I
read and studied the best English writers, Addison, Swift»
Bolingbroke, Robertson, and Hume, noting down every
peculiar propriety and happiness of expression which I
met with, and which I was conscious that I should not
have used myself.
While I was pursuing these studies with unremitting

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1757—78. HIS BABLY LIFE, PART I. 23

zeal, I formed an acquaintance which has had great in-
fluence on all the subsequent events of my life. It was
that of Mr. John Roget, a clergyman and a native of
Geneva, who had then lately left that city, and had been
elected minister of the French chapel we attended. It
was no longer the gloomy building which I have de-
scribed. Out of the permanent funds of the church a new
chapel had been erected upon a different spot ; small,
indeed, and suited to the congregation, but neat and cheer-
ful. The difference between the old and the new edifice
was not greater than between the newly elected preacher
and his predecessor. Instead of the stammering mono-
tony, and the learned, but dry and tedious, dissertations of
Monsieur Coderc, we heard, from Roget, sermons com-
posed with taste and eloquence, and delivered with great
propriety and animation. He was, indeed, possessed of
the genuine sources of eloquence ; an ardent mind, a rich
imagination, and exquisite sensibility. Immediately upon
his arrival in England, he became acquainted with our
family, and that acquaintance soon grew into very great
intimacy with us all. He took pleasure in talking with me
about my studies ; used to give me great encouragement to
persevere in them ; and often pronoimced of the talents,
which he supposed me to possess, predictions that have
never been fulfilled, but which, as is often the case with
prophecies of another kind, had a strong tendency to bring
about their own accomplishment.

Roget was an admirer of the writings of his countryman
Rousseau, and he made me acquainted with them. With
what astonishment and delight did I first read them I I
seemed transported into a new world. His seducing elo-
quence so captivated my reason, that I was ^lind to all
his errors. I imbibed adl his doctrines, adopted all his
opinions, and embraced his system of morality with the
fervour of a convert to some new religion. That enthu-
siasm has long since evaporated : and though I am not
even now so cold and insensible as to be able imder any
circumstances to read his writings with an even and lan-
guid pulse, and un moistened eyes, yet I am never tempted
to exclaim, Malo cum Platone errare, quam cum aliis

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24 NABRATIVE OF 1757—78.

vera sentire, — ^a motto which I once seriously inscribed in
the first page of Emile, But though the writings of
Rousseau contain many errors on the most important sub-
jects, they may yet be read with great advantage. There
is, perhaps, no writer so capable of inspiring a young
mind with an ardent love of virtue, a fixed hatred of op-
pression, and a contempt for all false glory, as Rousseau ;
and I ascribe, in a great degree, to the irrational admi-
ration of him, which I once entertained, those dispositions
of mind from which I have derived my greatest happiness
throughout life.

In our family, Roget found a society well suited to his
taste. His visits to us became frequent ; his conversation
was uncommonly interesting, and he had soon secured
the friendship of us all. My sister he inspired with
warmer sentiments than those of friendship. On his part»
he was by no means insensible to her merits, but he for-
bore for some time to offer his addresses to her. He had
no property but the very moderate* income which his
church afforded him ; my sister's fortune, though not
large in itself, was comparatively large, and her expec-
tations were supposed to be much greater, for my father,
from his assiduity, the long time he had been in business,
his extensive dealings, and his moderate expenses, was
reputed to be possessed of great wealth. Roget's intimate
friends endeavoured to dissuade him from making a pro-
posal, which, they said, they foresaw would be unfa-
vourably received ; they were, however, as much mistaken
with respect to my father's disposition as with respect to
his fortune. Upon the first mention of Roget's addresses
my father declared, that, if they had my sister's appro-
bation, thef had his ; he had long before resolved never
to resist, or even to check, his daughter's inclinations.
With respect to Roget, however, it was not a case in
which my father was merely not to oppose : he could not
but approve a marriage so well calculated to render a be-
loved child happy; and it was, soon afterwards, solem-
nized* to the great satisfaction of all our family.

* On the 12th of February, 1778.

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1757—78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 25

There was one person, indeed, who, though not of our
family by blood, was from long intimacy and mutual
affection considered almost as a part of it, to whom
this event gave as much pain as it did satisfaction to
all the rest This was a young man of the name of
Greenway. He had been an apprentice to my father, and
as such had lived with us. He had afterwards travelled
together with my brother, upon a tour of seven or eight
months, on the continent ; and, upon his return, an uncle
who was possessed of an estate of about 500/. a year,
had died and left him his heir. Though no longer
living under the same roof, we still continued in habits
of the greatest intimacy : he was of all our parties, ac-
companied us in our rides, in our walks ; and was al-
ways a welcome and a happy guest at our house. He
had conceived, unknown to us all, a warm affection for
my sister : from the natural reserve of his temper, or for
some other cause which I have never learned, he did not
give the least intimation of his affection to any one ; not
even to her who was the object of it. The only expression
that ever dropped from him, which bespoke any incli-
nation to open his mind, was during a visit which, after
his uncle's death, my father and mother, together with
my sister, made him at his house in the country. In an-
swer to a compliment which my father paid him upon the
appearance of his house, and the air of comfort which pre-
vailed in it, he said, " Yes, sir, it wants nothing but a mis-
tress." My father, either from not understanding his
meaning, or from having determined not to control or in-
fluence in any manner his daughter's choice, remained
silent: and poor Greenway construed that silence into
disapprobation of what he supposed could not fail to be
understood. My sister certainly felt no affection for him,
but she highly esteemed him : his person was agreeable ;
lus temper was even and amiable ; and he had an intrinsic
goodness of heart, a disinterestedness, a generosity, and a
sense of honour, which it was impossible not to admire.
Her heart, too, was at that time disengaged, and, but for
the most fatal reserve on his part, he undoubtedly might
have obtained for his wife the woman, without whom, as

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26 NABRiLTIVB OF 1757-78.

it afterwards appeared, it was impossible for him to live
and to be happy. He remained, however, silent ; not an
expression ever fell from him which could lead to a dis-
covery of his secret, not even to my brother or myself, in
our greatest intimacy. He was a witness to Roget's being
introduced into our family ; marked the progress which
he made in our friendship ; observed the first dawning
of affection in my sister's breast ; watched the sentiments,
which she and Roget mutually entertained for each other,
growing up into attachment, affection, and the warmest
passion; and still observed the most profound silence;
and it was not till after the marriage had been resolved
on, that any of us discovered the cause of that melancholy
which had then long become apparent in him ; nor should
we, even then, have discovered it, but it would perhaps
have passed with him in silence into that grave into which
his misfortunes soon led him, but for the most accidental
circumstance.

One night my brother and myself supped with him, at
the house of one of our friends. We stayed very late, and
drank a good deal of wine ; not enough, however, to pro-
duce a visible effect on any of us, but on poor Greenway.
On him was produced an effect the most extraordinary :
his spirits were not exhilarated, his reason was not cloud-
ed, or his articulation impeded ; but the passions, which
had long preyed upon his mind, heightened and inflamed,
overcame at once the restraint which he had long imposed
on them, and burst out in the most vehement expression.
As we were walking home, he talked in vague terms of
his wretchedness, till, unable to proceed, he sunk down
on the steps of a door ; and there, in a transport of passion,
and in words and with an accent that penetrated to the
soul, expressed the cause and extent of his misery ; and
in a spirit of prophecy, which was but too truly fulfilled,
exclaimed, that he should never, never again know what
it was to be happy.

Immediately after the intended marriage of my sister
was made public, he entered into the Oxfordshire militia,
which was then encamped, in the hope that the bustle
and novelty of a military life might efface those recollec-

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1757—78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 27

tions which were incompatible with his peace of mind.
But all was in vain. A deep melancholy settled and
preyed upon his mind. Calamities the most dreadful,
which in the course of a few years afterwards happened
in his own family, increased this load of affliction. He
soon afterwards set out upon a journey into France, in
the hope that a change of place, and of objects, might
relieve the anguish which he suffered ; but it was to no
purpose. Nothing could dissipate, for a single moment,
the gloom which hung upon him. He had no sooner ar-
rived in any town than he was impatient to leave it; and
he hurried from place to place, more dejected every day,
and more decHning in his health, till, upon his arrival at
Calais, on his return, he was too ill to proceed any farther.
His companion in his travels * immediately wrote to me
to apprize me of his situation ; and with all possible expe-
dition I set out to join'him. I arrived ; but too late for
every thing but to witness his last agonies. He turned
upon me his dying eyes, attempted to speak, but was
unable, and shortly after expired. He had twice at-
tempted to make his will, but found it impossible. In
the delirium of the fever which consumed him, he often
exclaimedywhen distmrbed by the noise of a hammering in
the court-yard of the inn where he lay, that he heard they
were preparing the rack for him. Unhappy man I the
torments of his sensible and affectionate mind were more
poignant even than those of the rack which he dreaded ;
and yet he, whose destiny it was thus exquisitely to suffer,
had employed his whole life in serving his friends, in acts of
kindness, humanity, and generosity, and had never done an
injury to any one, or entertained a sentiment but of virtue
and benevolence. His body was conveyed to Canterbury,
and now lies buried in the church-yard of the cathedral.

The melancholy fate of poor Greenway has led me
much beyond the period to which I had brought down
the account of myself. I wished to conclude his story
before I proceeded with my own ; and I have spared myself
the frequent renewal of affliction, by crowding into a few

* Mr. Byme, the eDgraver.

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28 NARKATIVE OF 1767— 7»^

pages the miseries and the daily sufferings of several
years. From /the time of my sister's marriage, nay, from
the time when it was first in contemplation, he knew no
happiness ; but he lingered through seven tedious years,
before his sorrows laid him in the grave.^ He lived long
enough to see the instability of human happiness, and
to witness the cruel misfortunes which overwhelmed those
whom he had considered as completely blessed.

But let me not anticipate other calamities; let me
rather postpone them as long as possible, and forget
awhile that they are fast approaching, to live over again
and enjoy completely the too short period of pure and un-
mixed happiness, which followed my sister's marriage. I
had always loved her with the tenderest affection. I had
conceived for Roget the sincerest friendship, and their
union increased and enlivened these sentiments. I passed
most of my leisure hours with them, enjoying the small
but well selected society which frequented their house,
and enjoying still more their conversation when alone.

I shall never forget the charms of our little frugal sup-
pers, at which none but we three were present ; but where
we never were at a loss for topics that went to the hearts
of all of us : where each spoke without the least reserve,
nay, where each thought aloud, and was not only happy
in himself, but happy from the happiness of those most
dear to him. Our happiness, indeed, was such that it
could hardly be increased ; but, if not increased, we might,
at least, reckon upon its duration ; the sources of our en-
joyment were in ourselves, not dependent upon the gifts
of fortune, and not subject to the tyranny of opinion.
We were young ; myself, indeed, but just of age : and
many years, in the enjoyment of the purest friendship
and affection, seemed to be in store for us. Vain, however,
were these expectations ! our happiness was as transient
as it was pure.

* He died in the autumn of 1785 : his remains were conveyed to
Canterbury for interment on the 2drd of October in that year. — ^£d.

d by Google

1778-89. HIS SARLY UFE. PART II. 29

NARRATIVE OF HIS EARLY LIFE, CONTINUED BY HIMSELF
IN 1813.

1718—1189.

Tanhunt, ^ August 28, 1813.
After an interval of seventeen years I am about to re-
sume the task of writing my life ; a task undertaken in
very different circumstances^ and with very different
views, from those with which I now resume it. When
I began to set down the few events of my unimportant
history, I was living in great privacy ; I was unmarried,
and it seemed in a very high degree probable that I
should always remain so. My life was wasting away with
few very lively enjoyments, and without the prospect that
my existence could ever have much influence on the hap-
piness of others ; or that I should leave behind me any
trace by which, twenty years after I was dead, it could be
known that ever I had lived. But since that period, and
within the last few years, I have been in situations that
were more conspicuous ; and though it has never been
my good fortune to render any important service, either
to my fellow-creatures or to my country, yet, for a short
period of time, at \fiast, some degree of public attention
has been fixed on me. It is, however, with no view to
the public that I am induced to preserve any memorial
of my life ; but wholly from private considerations. It
is in my domestic life that the most important changes
have taken place. For the last fifteen years my happiness
has been the constant study of the most excellent of
wives; a woman in whom a strong understanding, the
noblest and most elevated sentiments, and the most
courageous virtue, are imited to the warmest affection, and
to the utmost delicacy of mind and tenderness of heart ;

> A country houie, in Suirey, on ike side of Leith Hill.— >Ed.

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30 NARRATIVE OF 1778.

and all these intellectual perfections are graced and
adorned by the most splendid beauty that human eyes
ever beheld. She has borne to me seven children, who
are living ; and in all of whom I persuade myself that I
discover the promise of their, one day, proving themselves
not unworthy of such a mother. Some of them are of so
tender an age that I can hardly hope that I shall live till
their education is finished, and much less that I shall
have the happiness to see them established in life ; and of
some it is not improbable that I may be taken from them
while they are yet of such tender years that, as they ad-
vance in life, they may retain but little recollection of
their father. To these, and even to my dear wife, if, si
I devoutly wish, she should many years survive me, it
may be a source of great satisfaction to turn over these
pages ; to learn or to recollect what I was, what I have
done, with whom I have lived, and to whom I have been
known. Such is the information that these pages will
afford, and they will, 1 fear, afford nothing more. Of
instruction there is but little that they can supply : what
to shun or what to pursue, is that of which a life, so little
chequered with events as mine, can hardly present any
very striking lessons. I have been in no trying situa-
tions ; the force of my character has never been called
forth ; I have fallen into no very egregious faults, and I
have had the good fortune to escape those situations which
generally lead to them; but, from the pious affection
which may have been instilled into my children's minds,
they may set a considerable value, and take a lively in-
terest in facts which, to the rest of mankind, must appear
altogether insipid and indifferent. It is, therefore, to
eiyoy conversation with my children, at a time when I
shall be incapable of conversing with any one; and to
live with them, as it were, long after I shall have de-
scended into the grave, that I proceed with this narrative
of my life. It is surrounded by these children in their
happy infant state ; cheered with the little sallies of their
wit ; exhilarated with their spirits ; become youthful, as
it were, by their youth ; and transported at sometimes
discovering in them the dawnings of their mother's vir-

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1778. HIS EARLY LIFE* PART IL 31

tues ; it is in the repose of a short period of leisure after
unusual fatigues in my profession ; it is in a fine season,
in the midst of a beautiful country, with some of the
richest and most luxuriant scenes of nature spread before
me: it is in the midst of all these sources of enjoyment
and of happiness, that I sit down to this pleasing employ-
ment.

Writing of times so long past, my memory may some-
times fail me (for till within the last seven years I have
never kept any journal, but while I was travelling) ; it
can be, however, only in trifles that it can fail ; and even
as to matters the most trifling, I shall endeavour most
strictly and religiously to adhere to truth.

When my former narrative broke off, I think (for I
have it not at this moment before me) I was serving Mr.
Lally as his articled clerk. I had never, during my
clerkship, thoughtvery seriously of engaging in the line of
the profession for which that noviciate was intended to
qualify me. To distinguish myself in some literary career
was the chimerical hope which I had long indulged ; and
I had once even supposed that I might become illustrious
as a poet ; but thu delusion was not of long duration.
The important moment, however, had arrived when it
was necessary to come to a decision, upon the prudence
or folly of which my future fate was to depend. The en-
couragement I had received from Roget hsid very strongly
inclined me not only to continue in the profession, but to
look up to a superior rank in it ; and although I had yet
taken no step whatever towards such an object, I could
not, now that it was requisite to decide, persuade myself
to decide against it With the exception, however, of
Roget, I believe most of my friends thought it a hazardous
and imprudent step ; Mr* Lally deemed it so in a very
high degree. He did not, indeed, undervalue my talents,
though I believe he did not rate them very high ; but he
thought my diffidence invincible, and such as must alone
oppose an insiurmountable bar to my success. He had,
however, the generosity not to [urge his objections with
the force with which he felt them. He thought himself
interested in my decision, since, being desirous himself

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32 NABJLATIVE OF 1778.

of retiring from business, it was of him that I should
naturally purchase a seat in the Six Clerks' Office, for it
is by purchase only that these situations are obtained.
Others of my friends thought that, whatever my talents
might be, and even if my modesty could be overcome,
yet my delicate health was hardly equal to the laborious
course of study which I was about to undertake ; and
I had very kind intimations of this from many of my
friends ; but I do not recollect that I had a direct re-
monstrance on the folly of what I was doing from any
one. My good-natured father (too good-natured perhaps
in this instance) hardly interposed his advice; he left
every thing to my own decision ; and that decision was to
renounce the Six Clerks' Office for ever, and, as the only
other course that was left me, to aspire to a higher for-
tune. What principally influenced this decision was, that
it enabled me to leave in my father's hands my little fortune
(the 2000/. legacy), and the share of the residue (perhaps
700/. or 800/. more) which M. de la Haize had left me,
and which I knew it would be very inconvenient to him
that I should call for ; but which would have been indis-
pensably necessary, if I had purchased a sworn clerk's
seat, 2000/. being about the price which it would cost
This consideration, I am sure, had no weight with my
father, in his acquiescing in my resolution; but it was
decisive with me in forming it; and it is not the only
instance of my life in which a decision, which was to have
most important consequences, has been taken principally
to avoid a present inconvenience. Even with a view,
however, to my father's pecuniary circumstances, the
determination I took was hardly to be justified ; because,
however inconvenient to him the immediate payment of
the money might have been, yet it would have secured
to me, without the possibility of risk, an income much
larger than I had then occasion for ; and with which I
might, in the course of a few years, have replaced as
large or a larger sum in his hands. The course of life I
was entering upon, on the contrary, insured expense ; and
postponed all prospect of profit certainly for five years,
and probably for a much longer period. At a later season

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177a HIS B&BXT UWE, PILRT II. 33

of my Hfe,. after & Bucccds at the bar which my wildest
and most sanguine dreams had never painted to me;
when I was gaining an income of 8000^. or 9000/. a year ;
I have often reflected how all that prosperity had arisen
out of the pecuniary difficulties and confined circum*^
stances o£ my father. There was another circumstance;
which, though a trifling one, I ought to mention ; for it
certainly had some, though I cannot at this distance of
time recollect how great an influence over the judgment
which I exercised. The works of Thomas had fallen into
my hands: I had read with admiration his Ehge or
Daguesseau ; and the career of glory, which he repre-^'
sents that iUustrious magistrate to have run, had excited^
to a very great degree my ardour and my ambition, and
opened to my imagination new paths of glory.

I had completed my twenty-first year before my resola-
tion was taken, and at this late period of life I entered
myself of the Society of Gray's Inn ; took there a very
pleasant set of chambers, which overlooked the gardens ;
arranged my little collection of books about me, and
began with great ardour the painful study of the law.
My good friend, Mr. Lally, advised me to become the
pupU of some Chancery drsiftsman for a couple of years ;
and, for the first year, to confine myself merely to reading
under his direction and with his assistance. This advice
I followed, and. placed myself under the guidance of Mr.
Spranger. I was the only pupil he ever had ; and, in-
deed, his drawing business was hardly sufficient to give
employment, even to a single pupil. I did not, however,
repent of the step I had taken. I passed all my morn-
ings and part of most of my evenings at his house. He had
a very good library, which I had the use of; he directed
my reading; he explained what I did not understand;
he removed many of the difficulties I met with: and,
what was of no small advantage to me, I formed a lasting
friendship with this very kind-hearted and excellent man,
who was universally esteemed, and who had a high cha-
racter in the profession.

As I read, I formed a common-place book ; which has
been of great use to me, even to the present day. It is,

VOL. I. p- T

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34 NAKRikTIVK OF 1779.

indeed, the only way in which law reports can be read
with much advantage.

It was not, however, to law alone that I confined my
studies. I endeavoured to acquire much general know-
ledge. I read a great deal of history ; I went on improv-
ing myself in the classics ; I translated, composed, and
endeavoured (though I confess with a success little pro-
portioned to the pains I took) to form for myself a correct
and an elegant style ; I translated the whole of Sallust,
and a great part of Livy, Tacitus, and Cicero ; I wrote
political essays, and often sent them without my name to
the newspapers, and was not a little gratified to find them
always inserted; above all, I was anxious to acquire a
great fiicility of elocution, which I thought indispensably
necessary for my success. Instead, however, of resorting
to any of those debating societies which were at this time
mueh frequented, I adopted a very useful expedient,
which I found suggested in Quinctilian ; that of express-
ing to myself, in the best language I could, whatever I
had been reading ; of using the arguments I had met
with in Tacitus or Livy, and making with them speeches
of my own, not uttered, but composed and existing only
in thought. Occasionally, too, I attended the two Houses
of Parliament ; and used myself to recite in thought, or
to answer the speeches I had heard there. That I might
lose no time, I generally reserved these exercises for the
time of my walking or riding ; and, before long, I had so
well acquired the habit of it, that I could think these
compositioHs as I was passing through the most crowded
streets.

The very close application with which I pursued my
studies proved at last iiyurious to my health. There
were other causes, too, which tended to impair it. Among
the principal of these was the ^eat anxiety I long felt
for my sister and her husband. The happiness they en-
joyed upon their marriage was as pure, and as complete,
as is ever the portion of human beings ; but it was of very
short duration. They were blessed with (me sweet child
to increase that happiness; but not long after the joyful
event of his birth, in the spring of 1779, and just when I

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1779. HIS EAKLY LIFE. PART H. 35

had projected to pass the approaching summer with them
in a lodging they had taken at Fulham, and when we had
begun to carry our project into execution, Roget was
seized with an inflammation of the lungs, attended with a
violent spitting of blood, and with other symptoms so
alarming, that his life appeared to be in the most im-
minent danger. As the only chance of saving him, his
physician recommended that he should be removed to his
native air ; and he, soon afterwards, set out for Geneva.
But he set out in such a state, and the violence of his dis-
ease so much increased upon the journey, that it soon
appeared very doubtful whether he would ever be able to
reach the end of it. A situation more distressing than
my sister's can hardly be imagined. Separated for the
first time completely from her family, in a foreign country,
amongst strangers, without even an attendant; exposed
to all the inconveniences of wretched inns, and destitute
of all medical assistance in which she could place any con-
fidence, she was doomed to watch the progress of a terrible
disease, undermining and gaining every day upon the
strength of a husband on whom she doted with the fondest
affection. Her letters during this journey, and after it
had terminated, written with a simplicity and a resigna-
tion which were celestial, but in which it was impossible
for her to conceal the torment of mind which she suffered
and the constant alarms she entertained, pierced me to
the heart; and the dread of what she probably had still to
undergo preyed continually on my mind.

Roget arrived, at last, with my sister at Geneva ; but it
seemed as if he had arrived only to die there ; and it was
long, very long, before their, prospects at all brightened, and
before they ventured to flatter themselves with any hopes.

The declining state of my own health induced me to
take medical advice. My stomach was particularly disor-
dered, and my physician advised me to try the waters of
Bath ; and accordingly, in the spring of 1780, I passed
six weeks at that place. There happened, soon after I
arrived there, to be an auction of a law library, at which 1
bought many books. With this supply I continued my

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36 NASBATITE OP ITSOL

studies, and probably too closely : I drank too mucb of
the water ; I was advised by an apothecary there to try the
bath : I followed that advice, but I went into the bath
when it was too hot, I stayed in it too long, and in a short
time, by these various means, I found myself in a much
worse state than that in which I had left town. The dis-
order in my stomach was all I had then to complain of;
but now I was disordered throughout my whole frame.
I was incapable of walking half a mile without excessive
fatigue. Any exertion either of mind or body produced
the most distressing palpitation of my heart. My nights
were sleepless, my days restless and a^tated. My appre*
hensions for the future were the most gloomy. Having
heard at Bath of persons i who had never recovered from
the relaxed and nervous habit into which an intemperate
use of the hot bath had reduced them, I persuaded myself
that such was my destination. I imagined that my whole
life (and I feared it might be a long one) would drag on
in my then state, useless to all mankind and burdensome
to myself; and I entertained strong apprehensions that
my disorder might end in madness.
/ Under the pressure of all these real and imi^nary ills,
j I returned to town. Sir William Watson, my physician,
^ endeavoured to repair all the mischief I had been doing.
He made me use the cold bath, and drink the chalybeate
waters of Islington : and he recommended me for a time
to relinquish all study ; but this recommendation was un-
necessary, for my constant restlessness and uneasiness
made it impoa^ble for me to fix my attention upon any
thing.

Gradually I got better ; but my health had not made any
considerable progress, when I was obliged to undergo bo*
dily fatigues which threw me back again, and left me in
a very deplorable state. In the beginning of June broke
out that most extraordinary insurrection, excited by Lord
George Gordon, which has hardly any parallel in our his-
tory. In a moment of profound peace and of perfect se-
curity, the metropolis found itself on a sudden abandoned,
as it were, to the plunder and the fury of a bigoted and

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ITW. HIS£ABIrTLIFK,FAftTlI. 37

frantic populace. The prisans were bralceii open and
burned ; and their inhabitants — debtors, men accused of
crimes, and convicted felons — ^indiscriminately turned
loose upon the public^ and received into the first ranks of
their deliverers to assist in further acts of devastation. One
night the flames were seen ascending from nine or ten
different ccmflagrations, kindled by these unresisted insur-
gents. The Inns of Court were marked out as objects of
destruction ; «nd Gray's Inn, in which many Catholics re-
sided, was particularly obnoxious. Government, which
had acted with extraordinary irresolution at first, took at
last very vigorous measures to put a stop to these disgrace-
ful outrages. In the mean time, however, it had become
necessary for every man to trust to himself for security ;
and the barristers and students of the different Inns of
Court determined to arm themselves in their own defence.
The state of my health rendered me quite unequal to so
great an exertion. I was ashamed, however, of being ill
atauch a season. I did therefore as others did ; was up a
whole night under arms, and stood as sentinel for several
hours at the gate in Holbom.

This fatigue, and the excessive heat of the weather,
threw me back into a worse state of health than ever. I
was so relaxed that I could hardly stand ; I had, from mere
weakness, continual pains in all my limbs. My nights
were restless ; and if the continual agitation of my fibres
would have permitted me to sleep, the pulsation of my
heart, which was continually sensible to me and which
was visible through my clothes when I was dressed, would
have prevented me. I hurried out of town to try the
efBsct o^ sea air ; found myself worse, and hastened back
again. Very stow indeed was my recovery. Through-
out the whole of the following winter I was incapable of
walking more than a mile at a time. My studies 1 was
obliged almost entirely to lay aside. I read little but for
my amusement, and rather by way of diverting my
thoughts from my malady, and from my melancholy pros-
pect that I had before me, than with any view to my im-
provement. It was at this time, and with this object, that
I began to read Italian ; and I certainly found consider-

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38 NARRATIVE OF 1780.

able entertainment in the novelties which the literature of
Italy presented to me.

My constitution seemed so much altered, I felt so sen-
sibly and so very disagreeably every change of the atmo-
sphere, and this had lasted so long, that I continued
strongly possessed with the idea that my health was irre-
coverably lost ; that for the rest of my days I should be a
wretched valetudinarian ; and that the bright prospects of
success in my profession, in which I had sometimes in-,
dulged, were shut out from me for ever. Such I continued
throughout the winter, and during the following spring..
Fortunately for me, an occasion presented itself, early in
the summer, which tempted me to go abroad.

When Roget's deplorable state of health compelled him.
and my sister to quit this country, they had been obliged
to leave their child, an infant then not a year old, behind
them. They had intended to be absent but for a few
months ; but they were soon convinced that a return to
this country, if ever to be ventured on, could not, without
the greatest danger, be undertaken for several years; and
with this sad conviction, they had naturally become very
impatient to have their child restored to them. My most
alPectionate father had grown dotingly fond of his little
grandson ; and though he would reluctantly resign him to
the hands of my poor sister, who in a foreign country, and
with a sick husband, stood in great need of such a conso-
lation, yet he would not consent to commit his little charge
to the care only of strangers, or of a servant, for so long a
journey. I offered, therefore, to convey him, and deliver
him into the hands of his parents ; and this offer was very
thankfully, on all sides, accepted.

His nursery maid was of course to go with him, and, as
the best mode of conveyance for such a party, and the
most economical too (which was a consideration very
important to be attended to), we put ourselves under the .
care of one of those Swiss voituriers, who were at that
time in the habit of convoying parties of six or eight per-
sons to any part of Switzerland. Our party consisted of
seven : a Mr. Bird, who was going to Turin ; a Mr. Barde.
a Genevese ; a young man of the name of Broughton ; a

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IWl. * HIS EARLY LIFE, PART U. 39

little effeminate Englishman, whose name I do not recolr
lect ; the nursery maid, the child, and myself.* It was a
time of war, and we were therefore obliged to pass through
the Low Countries ; and, as is necessary in this mode of
travelling, which is performed with the same horses, we
made short and easy journeys of not more than thirty or
forty miles a day, which gave us an opportunity of seeing
all the objects of curiosity that lay upon our road.

The improvement of my health and spirits as I pro-
ceeded, the great variety of places we passed through, and
the novelty of every thing I saw, made it to me a most de-
lightful journey. I shall never forget the impression I
received on first landing at Ostend ; and, afterwards, upon
entering the magnificent city of Ghent ; every human
creature, every building, every object of superstition, al-
most every thing that I beheld, attracted my notice and
excited and gratified my curiosity.

We pursued our course through Brussels, Namur^
Longwy, Metz, Nancy, Plombidres, and Besangon, to
Lausanne, where I delivered safely their little boy to Ro-
getand my sister.

I found Roget much better than I had expected ; obliged,
indeed, to live by the strictest rule, and compelled to
make his health the subject of his continual care and at-
tention, but well enough to enjoy the society of a few
friends, and to amuse himself with literary pursuits. He
had formed the project of writing a history of the Ame-
rican war, and it served to employ very agreeably many
hours of the few last years of his life ; but he did not live
long enough to complete the work, or even to make any
considerable progress in it. His friendship for me, and
the favourable opinion he had entertained of my talents,
had been greatly increased by absence, and by the nume-
rous and long letters which had, during that absence,
. passed between us. My success at the bar he considered
as certain ; and, knowing what that success leads to in
England, he spoke of my future destination with a degree
of exultation and enthusiasm, which rekindled those

* We set out June 16, 1781.

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40 VABBATIVE OP 19»1.

hopes tint had for «ome time been aearhf extingaished
in my mind. The recollection oC one of these oonverear
tione, which took place oi we were walking upon the ter-
race of hiB garden one iioe summer night, when not
a dond appeared upon the atmosphere to intercept the
effulgence of the stars scattered over every part of the
heavens, has since a thousand times occurred to me, and
is now as fresh in my memory as if it had been an event
of yesterday. Scarcely any thing, indeed, that I saw, or
heard, or read, during the six weeks that I passed in this
ddightfol retirement, have I since forgotten.

The situation was one oi the most beautiful that imagi-
nation could paint it was about a mile from Lausanne,
and at a considerable eminence above it, commanding a
most extensive view of that enchanting country, with the
lake of Geneva stretching out to its whole extent, and
bounded by the lofty and rude mountains of Savoy. Never
could there be a clearer refutation of the common saying,
that the most beautiful objects by familiarity tire upon the
sight, than what I here experienced. The window of my
room commanded this sublime prospect; every day I
gazed upon it with fresh rapture ; and the last time that
I beheld it» its beauty kindled in me the same pious admi^
ration as the first

From Lausanne I proceeded to Geneva, where I made
a stay of only about a month ; but during that short resi*
dence, I saw so great a variety of persons, and I saw so
much of them, that I derived as much profit as I could
under other circumstances from a much longer residence.
It was in the midst of those political contests which, soon
afterwards, ended so fatally for that repubhc I lived
with Chauvet who was deeply engaged with the popular
party, and was one of those who, upon the aristocratical
faedim becoming triumphant was banished the republic.
Duroveray, formerly sitomey*gencral of the republic, a
man of great talents, but unfit from his unconciliatory
Qianners to be the leader of a party ; Ckvidre, afterwards for
a short time, and at a very unhappy season, minister of
finance in France, possessed of considerable abilities, and
a man of undoubted ambition, though wholly deficient in

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ITBt. HIS BARLY LIFK» rAKT 0. 4|

couxa^ to gratify it ; and Reyba^, of a beiteft judgraant, of
nMfre extensive knowledge, and ei more solid talents, but
equally wanting in courage, were amongst the foremost
of those who conducted the measures of the popular party.
Politics, -dioogh they serred to bring out the characters of
individuals, and display all the variety of dispositions inci-
dent to mankind, had, in some respects, considerably hurt
the society of Geneva. Politics had engrossed what be-
fore was given to literature. The society <tf Geneva must»
indeed, judging of it even under all the disadvantages in
which I saw it, have been at one time highly interesting.
It had the liveliness of French conversation without its fri-
volity, and the good sense of England, with a refined lite-
rary taste, formed by an intimate and feuniliar acquaintance
with the writings of Rousseau and Voltaire, to which we
have no pretensions.

I was very desirous, while I thus passed through fo-
reign countries, to inform myself as well as I could of their
laws, particularly their criminal law, and their mode of
administering justice. While I was at Geneva, an oppor-
tunity presented itself of learning the manner of conduct-
ing criminal trials there, which few travellers have had
the good fortune to meet with. The proceedings, as in
most other parts of the Continent, are secret; and none
but the prisoner, his counsel, and two friends named by
him to assist him, are permitted to be present when the
cause is pleaded. It happened before I arrived here, that
a burglary had been committed by a gang of Savoyards, of
whom three w^^e seized, and Uie rest, three more in
number, had made their escape. A criminal trial of any
kind was, at this time, in this little republic, of very rare
occurrence, and always excited an interest proportioned to
its novelty. The advocates of the highest reputation were
accustomed to afford their gratuitous assistance to the ao-
GQsed, and to conduct their defence with as much care
and zeal as the wealthiest and most liberal client could de-
sire. I was acquainted with one of the advocates upon this
occasion ; and he suggested to one o£ the prisoners, who
was a stranger in Geneva, to name me to assist him. Be-
fore I was admitted to be his assistant, I was obliged to

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42 NARRATIVE OF 1781

take an oath before one of the syndics (the chief magis-
trates of the republic), that I would not give, or suffer to be
taken, copies of any papers in the cause ; and that I would
return to the court, immediately after the cause should be
ended, all the copies or extracts which I might have made
for my own use. All the prisoners were found guilty ;
but their sentences varied according to the degree of evi-
dence which had appeared against each. One, a lad of six-
teen, was sentenced to be whipt, and then to be sent to
the galleys for twenty years (the French Government
having some time since agreed to take all the criminals of
the republic to work in their galleys). Another was con-
demned to be present while his companion was whipt, and
then to be banished the territory of the republic for life ;
and the doom of the third was merely banishment. As
to the three accomplices, who had escaped, they were
sentenced to be whipt in effigy ; which was executed by
the pictures of men being whipt, with the names of the
offenders inscribed under them, being carried round the
city.

During this residence at Geneva, I formed. a friendship
with a young man about my own age, of the name of
Dumont, who was then studying for the church, and was
soon after admitted one of its ministers. Roget, who had
been long acquainted with him, had spoken to each of us
in such favourable terms of the other that we were desi-
rous of becoming friends before we had met ; and a per-
sonal acquaintance, improved by a little tour we had made
together to the glaciers of Savoy, and round the lake of
Geneva, by the TSte Noire, Martigny, Bex, and Vevey,
was soon matured into a very intimate and firm friend-
ship, which remains to this day, increased and strength-
ened by the number of years during which it has lasted.
His vigorous understanding, his extensive knowledge,
and his splendid eloquence, qualified him to have acted
the noblest part in public life ; while the brilliancy of his
wit, the cheerfulness of his humour, and the charms of
his conversation, have made him the delight of every
private society in which he' has lived: but his most

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1781. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 43

valuable qualities are, his strict integrity, his zeal to serve
those to whom he is attached, and his most affectionate
disposition.

WhUe I was in this enchanting country, I made several
little excursions to see and admire its beauties ; amongst
others to the Lac de Joux, to Evian, and the rocks of Meil*
lerie ; and one, which more than all the rest made a
deep impression on me, to the summit of the Dent
d'Oche, a very high mountain of Savoy on the southern
bank of the lake of Geneva. The ascent is very difficult,
and for that reason, perhaps, it is seldom visited by stran-
gers ; but the prospect it affords is the most beautiful and
the most sublime that ever I beheld : the lake of Geneva
stretched out to its whole extent with the rich country of
the Pays de Vaud and its numerous towns, on the one
side, and the Alps of Savoy on the other, like a vast sea
of mountains, terminated by the distant Mont Blanc,
towering far above the rest. It was after this expedition
that, crossing the lake, I again paid a short visit to Lau-
sanne, and took leave of my sister and of Roget. The
precarious state of his health, and the prospect of the re-
newal of my own studies, and of the occupations which I
hoped might follow them, made both of us apprehensive
of what proved but too true, that we were bidding each
other an everlasting farewell.

Upon quitting this country, I made a party with three
other persons* to visit the Grande Chartreuse, intending
from thence to get the best way I could to Lyons, and to
return home by way of Paris, which I was desirous of
seeing. I have since often regretted that I did not ex-
tend my travels, and allow myself to visit at least some
of the cities in the northern part of Italy. Perhaps, how-
ever, I did well to resist the temptation which this oppor-
tunity held out to me. The prolongation, for a few
months more, of this interruption of all regular habits of
study might have had very serious consequences to me,
and have disappointed all my future .schemes. Our road

* M. Juyentin, puteur of Geneva ; M. de V^gobre, an advocate
there; and Mr. Shore, a young Englishman, who was at Geneva for
bis education.

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44 KAHEATUTE OK Vm.

to the Grande Chartreuse lay through a very beaatiiid
country ; and we had an opportunity of visiting Cham-
berry, the capital of Savoy. The wild and romantic
ecenery of the Chartreuse has been often celebrated. I
8aw it to some disadvantage ; for though it was early in
September, we had so deep a fall of snow, and which lasted
so long, that the roads became impassable, and for three
days we were obliged to prolong our stay with the hosr
pitable fathers against our will. Amongst the travellers
collected together, there were two young French officeri^
one of whom was going to Lyons, and I joined his com-
pany. We proceeded together on mules to Grenoble, and
there hired a cabriolet, which conveyed us to Lyons. At
that place we parted : and I proceeded to Paris in the
diligence or mHsagerie* a large carriage containing eight
inside passengers ; not a very convenient or a very ele*
gant conveyance, but one which was well suited to my
humble circumstances, and in which much more is to be
learnt of the manners of a people than by being shut up
in a commodious English carriage and travelling post
Arrived at Paris, I left my luggage at the Bureau dee di-
ligences ; and set off on foot to inquire my way through
the street for an hotel at the other end of the town, to
which I had got a direction. It was in the Rue de
Richelieu, and in a very pleasant situation, the back win«
dows looking upon the gardens of the Palais Royal ; for a
garden it then was, though the duke of Orleans, to the
great indignation of the Parisians, was preparing to cover
it with buildings. At Paris I saw all that common tra-
vellers see, the theatres, the palaces, the public buildings,
collections of pictures, and other objects of curiosity. I
saw, too, the court in all its splendour ; and I was present
at the Royal Chapel at Versailles when high mass was
celebrated before the king.

An event happened while I was there which showed
Paris to great advantage ; this was the birth of a Dauphin,
after the Queen had .been married several years without
having had a son. Great public rejoicings took place.
The theatres were thrown open to the people with gratui-
tous representations; and at the Comedie Franpaise they

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ITil. HIS EARLY UFE, PABT II. 4^

were indulged with the adventures of Henry IV., their
good and favourite king. There were puhlic illuminations
too, but these were commanded ; and I felt no small sur-
prise when I read placarded in the corners of the streets
the mandate by which the loyal people of Paris were or-
dered to shut up their shops, and to illuminate their
houses for three successive nights, and the ofiBcers of the
police w^e enjoined to see the order executed. The illu-
mination corresponded with its cause ; and in many a
house I observed one solitary lamp at each window glim"*
mering, not in token of joy, but in reluctant obedience to
the pleasure of the government. The public buildings,
however, were splendid ; and in most of the large squares
were orchestras and bands of music, which played to the
dancing of the people. The Place de Gr^ve was (as I
thought unfortunately) chosen as the favourite scene of
these amusements. The Hdtel de Ville was resplendent
with lamps. Fire-works were played off before it ; and
to the music of four different orchestras, were as many
parties of dirty and ragged creatures dancing, with as
much life and gaiety as if they were in a theatre devoted
only to mirth and joy. For myself, I confess that my
cheerfulness was not a little damped by the squalid ap-
pearance of the dancers ; by the soldiers ranged on every
side ; by the sudden appearance from time to time of the
horse patrol (marSchaussie) silently and unexpectedly
making their way through the thickest of the crowd ; and
by the recollection that the ground on which I stood was
the common place of execution, which had been so often
wet with blood, and had so often witnessed the lengthened
agonies of tortured wretches expiring in flames, or upon
the wheel.

The King went to Notre Dame in great state to return
thanks to God for the birth of his son. The scene was
a very splendid one, and the crowds which pressed on
every side to see the royal procession pass, were immense.
Only eight years afterwards I was present at a ceremony
accompanied with the same military pomp, and beheld
with the same eager curiosity by many of the same spec-
tators, but which was of a very different kind; it was

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40 NARRATIVE OF 1781.

when, in the same church, the colours of the National
Guard of Paris received the henediction of the archbishop,
and when a patriotic sermon was preached on the occa-
sion by the Abb6 Fauchet.

I saw at Paris a great variety of persons; artists,
advocates, and authors. Amongst these were D'Alembert
and Diderot, the most celebrated of all the writers then
remaining in France. D'Alembert was in a very infirm
state of health, and not disposed to enter much into con-
versation with a person so shy and so unused to society
as I was. Diderot, on the contrary, was all warmth and
eagerness, and talked to me with as little reserve as if
I had been long and intimately acquainted with him.
Rousseau, politics, and religion, were the principal topics
of his conversation. The Confessions of Rousseau were,
at that time, expected shortly to appear; and it was
manifest from the bitterness with which Diderot spoke of
the work and of its author, that he dreaded its appear-
ance. On the subject of religion he made no disguise ;
or rather he was ostentatious of a total disbelief in the
existence of a God. He talked very eagerly upon politics,
and inveighed with great warmth against the tyranny of
the French government. He told me that he had long
meditated a work upon the death of Charles the First ;
that he had studied the trial of that prince ; and that his
intention was to have tried him over again, and to have
sent him to the scaffold if he had found him guilty, but
that he had at last relinquished the design. In England
he would have executed it, but he had not the courage to
do so in France.

D'Alembert, as I have observed, was more cautious;
he contented himself 'with observing what an effect
philosophy had in his own time produced on the minds
of the people. The birth of the Dauphin afforded him
an example. He was old enough, he said, to remember
when such an event had made the whole nation drunk
with joy * ; but now they regarded with great indifference
the birth of another master.

♦ Tbi» was in 1729. *< On etait dans une ivrcsse de joi©."

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1781. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 4*7

I must not quit the subject of my abode at Paris with-
out the mention of two acquaintances I formed there, for
to them I owed the most agreeable hours I passed in that
celebrated city. The one was a person of my own name,
a watchmaker, who then lived in the Place Dauphine, a
Genevese, of the age of seventy, but who had all the
gaiety and vivacity of youth. He was a man of very
great merit in his business, had seen a great deal of the
world, and was not without a considerable portion of
literature. All the articles upon the subject of his own
art, which are to be found in the EncyclopSdie, were his.
He conceived himself to be under obligations to my
family, on account of the great kindness which his son
had received during his residence in London at the hands
of my father. The son had been elected a minister of
one of the French Protestant churches in London ; but
ill health forced him to return to Geneva, where he died
about a year before I arrived there. He was the author
of two articles in the Encyclopidie, "Toleration" and
"Virtue," \vhich had very great celebrity. These, and
two volumes of sermons, which were published after his
death, attest the merits of that extraordinary man. He
was the delight of the societies in which he lived, and
his good-natured repartees were in every body's recollec-
tion at Geneva when I visited it. Nothing could ex-
ceed the zeal of this good old M. Romilly to serve me
while I was at Paris, or the attentions which were paid
me by his family, particularly his son-in-law and his
daughter, M. et Mad* de Corancez. It was to them I
was indebted for my introduction to D'Alembert and
Diderot, and for all the society I knew at Paris ; which
was confined, however, to the bourgeoisie^ and to the
descriptions of persons I have before enumerated.

The other valuable acquaintance which I have said
that I formed at Paris was that of Mad* Delessert, one
of the most benevolent and amiable of women. She was
from Switzerland; was, as long as Rousseau saw any-
body, one of his best friends ; and it is to her that were
addressed the charming Letters on Botany which, since

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43 KAKiumvB or itm.

his death, have been published. She had a large col-
lectian of other tetters from him» of some of which she
permitted me to take copies. At her country house at
Passy, in her society, and in that of her amiable daughter,
then a girl of fifteen, of a very agreeable person and of a
very cultivated understanding, I spent most usefully the
time I passed at Paris. There is nothing, indeed, by which
I have through life more profited than by the just <^serva*
tions, the good opinion, and the sincere and gentle en«-
couragement of amiable and sensible women.

I returned to London by way of Lisle and Ostend, still
travelling in public carriages, having greatly benefited in
every respect by my short travels. My health particularly
was very much improved; though I still occasionally,
during the winter* fdt the effects of my former maladie&
I was able, however, to resume my studies with great
ardour, and I prosecuted them with considerable success.
Soon after my return, I published, in The Morning
Chronicle, a tolerably detailed account of the late poli-
tical events at Geneva, which I had written while I was
there.

There was a young man of my own age, a student and
an inhabitant of Gray*s Inn, with whom I, about this
time, formed a great degree of intimacy. His great
talents, and his learning as a classical scholar, as an Eng^
lish antiquary, and as a profound lawyer, must, if he had
lived, have raised him to very great eminence in his pro^
fession ; though his honest and independent spirit would,
probably, to him have barred all access to its highest
offices. This was John Baynes. He was a native of the
West Riding of Yorkshire ; had received his early educa-
tion at Richmond in that county; and had afterwards
very much distinguished himself both in mathematics and
in the classics in the University of Cambridge, where he
became a fellow of Trinity College. A man more high-
spirited, more generous, more humane, more disposed to
protect the feeble against the oppression of the powerful
and the great, never adorned the annals of England. His
premature death, which happened five or six years after

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1783. HIS EASLT US^ PART U. 4g

tite time I ani speaking of, 1 have always considered as a
very great public loss* To our profession, particularly^
the loss of such a man, and in such a state of the pro*
£ession as that in iHiich it happened, wasc the greatest
that it could sufier. The intimacy which I formed with
this excellent man soon ripened into the firmest friend«-
ship. We prosecuted our studies together ; we c(Hn>'
municated to each other, and compared, the notes which
we took during our attendance in the courts. We used
to meet at night at each other's ehambers to read some
of the classics, particularly Tacitus, in whom we both took
great delight ; and we formed a litde society, to which we
admitted only two other persons, Holroyd and Chuistian,
for arguing points of law upon questions which we sug-
gested in turn. One argued on each side as counsel, the
other two acted the part of judges, and were obliged to
give at length the reasons of their decisions ; an exercise
which was, certainly, very useful to us all.

On the last day of Easter Term, 1783, 1 was called to '
the bar. It was my intention to have gone a circuit, but
this I was obliged to postpone till the ensuing spring.

Roget, whose health had continued very precarious
from the time when I left him» had, early in the present
summer, a fresh attack of his disorder, which in a few
weeks proved fatal to him. His death happened at a
most unfortunate time for my poor sister, for it was when
she had been brought to bed only six weeks of her
daughter. Never did any womsm adore a husband with
more passionate fondness than she did hers ; never had
anxiety surpassed that with which she had been tortured
during the different periods of his long disease ; and never
was affliction greater than that which she now endured.
My father and all our family were very impatient that she
should return to us from the strange land in which her
melancholy lot had been cast. But with two children, and
one of 80 very tender an age, and with no companion but
her maid, it was an alarming journey to undertake. My
brother was married, and was entirely occupied by his
business. There was no person who could, without the
greatest inconvenience, attend her on such a journey but

VOL.1. A ]

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50 • NARRATIVE OF HSS.

myself, and I therefore undertook it ; it was only losing
one circuit, and it was rendering a very essentia] service
to all those whom I most loved and valued.

Baynes was desirous of seeing Paris, and agreed to be
my companion so far on my journey. It was not the most
direct road to Lausanne ; but it was that by which 1 was
likely to find the best opportunities of conveyance. We,
accordingly, proceeded to Paris together; and his good
spirits and agreeable society rendered it a very pleasant
journey. At Paris I staid only a week, and had little
more tban time to renew my acquaintance with the con-
nexions I had formed there, particularly with M. Romilly
and Madame and Madlle. Delessert. Baynes had a letter
of introduction to Dr. Franklin, who was then residing at
Passy, and I had the great satisfaction of accompanying
him in his visit. Dr. Franklin was indulgent enough to
converse a good deal with us, whom he observed to be
young men very desirous of improving by his conversa*
tion.^ Of all the celebrated persons whom, in my life,
I have chanced to see, Dr. Franklin, both from his ap-^
pearance and his conversation, seemed to me the most
remarkable. His venerable patriarchal appearance, the
simplicity of his manner and language, and the novelty of
his observations, at least the novelty of them at that time
to me, impressed me with an opinion of him as of one of
the most extraordinary men that ever existed. The
American Constitutions were then very recently pub-
lished. I remember his reading us some passages out
of them, and expressing some surprise that the French
government had permitted the publication of them in
France. They certainly produced a very great sensation
at Paris, the effects of which were probably felt many
years afterwards. Diderot was at this time dead; and
D'Alembert was in so infirm a state that I thought he
would gladly enough dispense with a visit from me.

From Paris I travelled by the direct road to (Jeneva,
in company with a M. Gautier, a Genevese, with whom I

' See extracts from Mr. Baynes's Journal at Uie end of this rolume.
—Ed

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1783. HIS EABLY LIFE. PART U. 51

had, some years before, made acquaintance in London— «
very worthy and friendly man. He, afterwards, married
Madlle. Delessert; and with him and his incomparable
wife I constantly maintained a correspondence by letters.
I made but a short stay at Geneva ; few of my best friends
were then remaining there. The revolution which had
taken place had a£Porded a complete triumph to the aris-
tocratical party ; but it had been effected by the interfer-
ence of France, and by the terror of its arms. I shall never
forget the burning indignation which I felt as I looked
down upon a French regiment, which was mounting
guard in the place of Bel-air, luider the windows of my
hotel, and as I heard the noise of the military music,
Which seemed, as it were, to insult the ancient liberties of
the republic.

At Lausanne, I met with the Abb£ Raynal ; but I saw
him with no admiration either of his talents or his charac-
ter. Having read the eloquent passages in his celebrated
work with delight, I had formed the highest expectations
of him ; but those expectations were sadly disappointed.
I was filled at this time with horror at West Indian slavery
and at the Slave Trade, and RaynaVs philosophical history
of the two Indies had served to enliven these sentiments ;
but when I came to talk on these subjects with him, he
appeared tome so cold and so indifferent about them, that
I conceived a very unfavourabte opinion of him.* His
conversation was certainly so inferior to his celebrated
work, as to give much countenance to the report, which
has been very common, that the most splendid passages in
it were not his own.

My return to England with my sister and her two
children was but a melancholy j oumey. We put ourselves
under the care of a Swiss voiturier ; and, for the sake, I
think, of avoiding any of the places through which my

* I brought with me from Lausamie, on my former visit to it, a
little tract on West Indian Slavery, which the Marquis de Condor-
cet bad printed there, and had written under the pretended name of
Schwarte, a Swiss clergyman. I translated it into Englidi ;. but up-
on offering it to a bookseller, I found that he would not undertake
the printing. I laid it aside, therefbre ^ and it never appeared.

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52 KARSATEVB OW ITM.

Bist^ had passed with her husband when she left her coun-
try, and which she thought would be attended with re-
membrances too painful for her to endure, we made rather
a circuitous journey. We passed through Soleure, Berne,
Basle, Louvain, Malines, Antwerp, Breda, and Rotterdam
to Helvoetsluys, whence we crossed to Harwich. At
Helvoetsluys we arrived just after the packet had sailed,
and as four days would elapse before the next, and we
were unwilling to venture in any other vessel, I took ad-
vantage of this delay to make a little excursion to the
Hague, and I returned time enough to accompany my sis-
ter in her passage across the sea.

Thus was my first long vacation passed. By Michael-
mas term I bad returned to business, or rather, to attend
the courts, and to receive such business as accident might
throw in my way. I had endeavoured to draw Chancery
pleadings before I was called to the bar, as an introduction
to business when I should be called. In that way, however*
the occupation I got under the bar was very inconside-
rable ; but soon after I was admitted to the bar, I was era-
ployed to draw pleadings in several cases. This species of
employment went on very gradually increasing for several
years; during which, though I was occupied in the way of
my profession, I had scarcely once occasion to open my
lips in court

In the spring of 1784, 1 first went upon the circuit All
circuits were indifferent to me, for I had no friends or
connexions on any one of them ; and my choice fell upon
the Midland, because there appeared to be fewer men of
considerable talents or of high cha];acter as advocates upon
it than upon any other, and consequently a greater open-
ing for me than elsewhere. It was, besides, shorter than
some other circuits, and would, therefore, take me for a
less time from the Court of Chancery ; and, what was no
unimportant consideration, my travelling expenses upon
it would be less. The circuit did not indeed, when I
joined it, appear to be overstocked with talent. At the
head of it in point of rank, though with very little busi-
ness, was Serje^t Hill ; a lawyer of very profound and ex-
tensive learning, but with a very small portion of judg-

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VtH, HIS BABLY UR* PART II. 55

ment, and without the faculty of making his great know-
ledge usefiiL On any subject on which you consulted him,
lie would pour forth the treasures of his legal science
without order or discrimination. He seemed to he of th6
order of lawyers of Lord Coke's time, and he was the last
of that race. For modern law he had supreme contempt ;
and I have heard him observe, that the greatest service
that could be rendered the country would be to repeal all
the statutes, and burn all the reports, which were of a later
date than the Revolution. Next to him in rank, but far
b^ore him in business, and indeed, completely at the head
of the circuit, stood ♦ * * * ; who, without talents, with-
out learning, without any one qualification for his profes-
sion, had, by Uie mere friendship, or rather companion-
ship, oi Mr. Justice ***, obtained the &vour of a silk
gown; and by a forward manner, and the absence of
commanding abilities in others^ had got to be employed in
almost every cause. The merits of a horse he understood
perfectly well ; and when in these, as sometimes happened,
consisted the merits of a cause, he acquitted himself adoti'-
rably ; but in other cases nothing could be more injudi-
cious than his conduct. In spite, however, of his defects,
and notwithstanding the obvious elects of his misma-
nagement, he continued lor many years, while I was upon
the circuit, in possession of a very large portion of business*
The other men in business on the circuit were DayreU,
Balguy, Parker Coke, Clarke, White, Gaily, and Sutton
(afterwards Lord Manners, and Chancellor of Ireland) ;
none of them very much distinguished as lawyers, or as
advocates. There were, besides, s<Mne young men without
business, and who seemed to have little prospect of ever
obtaining it ; George Isted, Rastal, Aufrere, Skrine, Gough,
Sfaipston, Tom Smith, and some others whose names I
may probably have forgotten. The society of the circuit
wa« not very much to my mind, but I formed in it a friend-
ship with several men whom I highly valued. Of these,
however. Gaily and Sutton were the principd ; the others
joined the circuit some years after I had entered upon it.
At different places we had provincial counsel, who joined
us. The most remarkable of these was Old Wheler (so

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$4 NABBATTVE OP 17M.

we always called him), who lived in the neighbourhood of
Ck)ventry ; an honest, sensible, frfuik, good-natured, talk-
ative old lawyer. He had been upon the circuit forty years
when I first joined it, and was attending the assizes at the
time of the rebellion of 1745. It was some years later,
and when I attended the Coventry and Warwick Quarter
Sessions, that I became very intimate with this cheerful,
open-hearted, kind old man ; but I was so much delighted
with his conversation and society, that I cannot, upon the
first mention of the lawyers whom I found upon the cir-
cuit, refuse myself the pleasure of speaking of him. He
had read nothing but law, he had lived only among law-
yers, and all the pleasant stories he had to tell were of the
lawyers whom he remembered in his youth. His stories,
indeed, were repeated by him again and again ; but they
were told with such good humour, and had so much intrin-
sic merit, that I always listened to them with pleasure.
Among some peculiarities which he had, was a very great
dislike to parsons and to noblemen. He often remarked
that it would have given him the greatest joy if his
daughter and his only child had married a lawyer ; but he
had the mortification (a singular one, undoubtedly, but
such it appeared to him) of seeing, before he died, his
two grandsons the presumptive heirs of two different
peerages.

Soon after my return from this, my first circuit, I lost
my dear and excellent father. He died * in his seventy-
third year, of a palsy which had affected him several weeks
before it proved fatal. Happily, he suffered no pain, and
was never sensible of the nature of his disease. A few
years before, I had persuaded myself that he w$a likely to
live to a much more advanced period. His faculties were
then all unimpaired, his natural cheerfulness unclouded,
and his activity unabated. I remember his once observing
that he had grown an old man to others without seeming
so to himself ; and his telling us of a pleasant mistake he
had made, when, being announced to some house, and one
of the servants having, from the top of the stairs, called
out '* that the old gentleman was desired to walk up," he

• On the 29th of Augutt, 1784.

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vm^ HIS EARLY UFE. PART II. 55

had drawn aside, altogether forgetting himself, in order to
let the venerahle person, whoever he might he, who he
supposed was meant, pass him : and he, prohahly, would
have lived to a very great age, if in his latter days he had
enjoyed that serenity of mind to which his virtues so justly
entitled him ; hut, alas I they were harassed with perpe-
tual anxiety. The expensive stock in trade, necessary to
the carrying on of his business, had obliged him to raise
money by procuring the discount of hills, which were
from time to time renewed. As he was known to he a
man of the strictest integrity, and was supposed to be very
wealthy, he had for a considerable time found no difficulty
in procuring his bills to be discounted ; hut when, in the
latter end of the American war, there was a great stagna-
tion of credit, he, in common with others, found himself
involved in difficulties, and he became exceedingly alarmed
for the consequences. These alarms had damped his
natural cheerfulness, and greatly agitated his mind, and
may be truly said to have brought upon him, though he
was then of the age of seventy, a premature old age.

When I was called to the bar, it became necessary for
me to have a servant, one who should be always in cham-
bers to receive briefs, cases, and instructions for pleadings,
if any should chance to be brought for me, and who should
attend me upon the circuit, in the various characters of
clerk, valet, and groom. It was a singular choice that I
made of a man to serve me in these capacities. I have
mentioned, I think, in the early part of my life, a female
servant, to whom the care of myself, my brother, and my
sister was intrusted, one Mary Evans, as simple-hearted,
honest, and affectionate a creature as ever existed. Be-
fore she left my father's house, she had become strongly
infected with methodism ; and, not long after she left it,
she married a pious journeyman shoemaker, of the name
of Bickers, as fervent a methodist as herself. The poor
man began to grow infirm ; he had become incapable of
working assiduously at his trade, and consequently inca-
pable of supporting himself, and of supporting her. I
could not endure the idea of seeing a woman whom in my
infancy I had revered almost as a mother, and who had

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56 STABBATIVBOF 1784.

loved me as her eon, reduced to distress ; and I could not
afford to maintain her husband and to pay the wages of a
servant besides. I determined, therefore, unpromising aa
the project seemed, to try whether I could not make shift
with him as a servant I certainly suffered, during seve-
ral years, for my good nature. He could ride, and he
could stand behind my chair at dinner, but this was al-
most all that he could do ; and though I, sometimes^ em-
ployed him to copy papers for me, he wrote very ill, and
made a thousand faults of spelling. The want of proper
attendance, however, was far less disagreeable to me than
the jokes which he excited on the circuit His appearance
was singular and puritanical ; and the first day he was seen
on the circuit, he was named by the young men upon it
'*The Quaker," an appellation by which he was always
afterwards known. It is not easy to give an idea of the
great familiarity which existed amongst the yoimg men
who went the circuit of the strong disposition to turn
things into ridicule which prevailed, and how very formid-
able that ridicule was. To all his defects. Bickers added
that of sometimes getting drunk ; and he has often made
me pass very unpleasant hours under the apprehension
that half elevated with liquor, and half inspired with the
spirit of methodism which possessed him, he would say
or do something which would afford an inexhaustible
fund of mirth to the whole circuit. All this, however,
I submitted to, from the motives which I have ahready
mentioned; and, in spite of his increasing defects and
infirmities, and notwithstanding the disagreeable hours
which he made me pass, he continued my servant to the
day of his death, (a period, I think, of about seven
years,) though I was obliged, at last to take a temporary
servant to attend me on the circuits. With all his defects,
he had some excellent qualities. He knew that it could not
be for the services he rendered me that I continued him
in my service, and he was all gratitude for my kindness.
In every way that it was possible for him, he showed his
zeal and his attachment to me ; and I shall not soon forget
the earnestness with which he once ventured to offer me
his advice upon what appeared to him to be a matter of no

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1784. HIS EAKLT UFE, PART II. 57

mnall moment. I had, sometimes, employed him to copy
IN^rs which I had amused myself with writing up<m
abuses esdsting in the administration of justice, and upon
the necessity of certain reforms. He had seen with great
regret the little progress I had made in my profession, and
particularly upon the circuit, and had observed those whom
he thought much my inferiors in talents far before me in
business ; and putting these matters together in his head,
he entertained no doubt that he had, at last, discovered the
cause of what had long puzzled him. The business of a
barrister depends upon the good opinion of attorneys ; and
attorneys never could think well of any man who was
troubling his head about reforming abuses when he ought
to be profiting by them. All this he, one day, took the
liberty >of representing to me with great humility. I en-
deavoured to calm his apprehensions, and told him that
what I wrote was seen only by himself and by me ; but
this, no doubt, did not satisfy him.

But it is time for me to mention the acquaintance
which I formed with some celebrated men. It was in
the latter end of the year 1784 that I first met the Count
de Mirabeau, and it was to D'lvemois that I owed his ac-
quaintance. His extraordinary talents, the disorders of
his tumultuous youth, the excesses he had committed, the
law-suits in which he had been engaged, the harsh treat-
ment he had experienced from his father, his imprison-
ment in the dungeon of Vincennes, and the eloquent
work he had written with the indignant feelings which so
unjust an imprisonment inspired, had already given him
considerable celebrity in Europe ; but it was a celebrity
greatly inferior to that which he afterwards acquired.
He brougljt with him to this country a short tract, which
he had written against the Order of the Cincinnati lately
eitaUished in America, which it was his object to publish
here. He was desirous that an English translation of it
should appear at the same time with the original. He
read his manuscript to me ; and, seeing that I was very
much struck with the eloquence of it, he proposed to me
to become his translator, telling me that he knew that
it was impossible to expect anything tolerable from a

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58 NAJUtAnVB OP }9M«

translator that was to be paid. I thought the translation
would be a useful exercise for me ; I had sufficient leisure
on my hands, and I undertook it. The Count was dif-
ficult enough to please ; he was sufficiently impressed widi
the beauties of the original. He went over every part of
the translation with me ; observed on every passage in
which justice was not done to the thought, or the force of
the expression was lost ; and made many very useful cri*
ticisms. Diu-ing this occupation, we had occasion to see
one another often and became very intimate ; and, as he
had read much, had seen a great deal of the world, was
acquainted with all the most distinguished persons who
at that time adorned either the royal court or the republic
. of letters in France, had a great knowledge of French and
Italian literature, and possessed a very good ta^te, his
conversation was extremely interesting, and not a little
instructive. I had such frequent opportunities of seeing
him at this time, and afterwards at a much more impor-
tant period of his life, that I think his character was well
known to me. I doubt whether it has been as well
known to the world, and I am convinced that great in-
justice has been done him. This, indeed, is not surpris-
ing, when one considers that, ftom the first moment of
his entering upon the career of an author, he had been
altogether indifferent how numerous or how powerful
might be the e'nemies he diould provoke. His vanity
was, certainly, excessive ; but I have no doubt that, in his
public conduct as well as in his writings, he was desirous
of doing good, that his ambition was of the noblest kind,
and that he proposed to himself the noblest ends. He
was, however, like many of his countrymen, who were
active in the calamitous revolution which afterwards took
place, not sufficiently scrupulous about the means by
which those ends were to be accomplished. He, indeed,
in some degree professed this; and more than once I
have heard him say that there were occasions upon which
** la petite morale Stait ennemie de la grande,'* It is not
surprising that with such maxims as these in his mouth,
unguarded in his expressions, and careless of his reputa-
tion, he should have^afforded room for the circulation of

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17U. HIS lUJXLH LIFE, PABT IL 5§

many stories to his disadvantage. Violent, impetuous,
conscious of the superiority of his talents, and the declared
enemy and denouncer of every species of tyranny and
opfK-essimi, he could not fail to shock the prejudices, to
oppose the interests, to excite the jealousy, and to wound
the pride of many descriptions of persons. A mode of
refuting his works, open to the basest and vilest of man-
kind, was to represent him as a monster of vice and profli-
gacy. A scandal once set on foot is strengthened and pro-
pagated by many who have no malice against the object of
it Men delight to talk of what is extraordinary ; and
what more extraordinary than a person so admirable for
his talents, and so contemptible for his conduct, professing
in his writings principles so excellent, and in all the of-
fices of public and private life putting in practice those
which are so detestable ? I, indeed, possessed demonstra-
tive evidence of the falsehood of some of the anecdotes
which^ by men of high character, were related to his pre-
judice.

While he was in London, he lost a great part of his
linen, and a manuscript copy of the correspondence be-
tween Voltaire and D'Alembert, which was at that time
unpublished, but has since appeared in Beaumarchais*
edition. A person of the name of Hardy, who served him
in the capacity of amanuensis, having abruptly left him,
although his wages remained unpaid, suspicion naturally
fell on him, and the Count obtained a warrant against
him ; and after some time he was apprehended and tried
at the Old Bailey.* The evidence was very slight, and the
man was properly acquitted ; but nothing at all discredit-
able to Mirabeau appeared upon the trial. On the
contrary. Baron Perryn, who tried the prisoner (Mr. Jus-
tice Buller being at the same time upon the bench), de-
clared, that though the prisoner ought certainly to be ac-
quitted, no blame whatever was to be imputed to the pro-
secution.* Lord Minto, then Sir Gilbert Elliot, who had

* On the 26th of February, 1785.— Ed.

' The following are the expressions used by the Court on the occa-
sion. ** Sir Gilbert, you will take the trouble to tell the Count, there
is nothing has dropt that throws the smallest imputation on him ;

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60 NABKATITE OF I7BS.

been at the same school with Mirabeau, and was the
greatest friend he had in England, Baynes, and myself^
were present ^ the trial, and had been consolted by Mi*
rabeau upon all the steps he had taken upon the occauon*
When the trial was over. Lord Minto said that it wonldbe
extremely important to have an accurate account of what
had passed upon the trial inserted in some of the news^
papers, to prevent any misrepresentation of it, which he
thought might be apprehended from Mirabeaus enemies ;
for it had been observed that some of them» and psrtica*
larly Linguet, had taken a great interest in the a&ir, and
had been present watching every thing that passed, as
wdl upon the trial as previously upon the examination of
the prisoner before the magistrate who committed him.
At Lord Minto's suggestion, therefore, he, together with
Baynes and myself, went immediately from the Court to
Baynes's chambers ; and there drew up a very full account
of the trial, which was the next day published in one of
the newspapers. I have the paper still in my possession,
and it contains a most scrupulously exact account of every
thing that passed.^ What was my astonishment, therefore,
some years afterwards, when Mirabeau had, by his con^
duct in the National Assembly of France, drawn the at-
tention of all Europe upon him, to hear, as I did, that Mr.
Justice Buller had stated * in diiferent companies, that
Mirabeau had had the villany, because his servant de*
manded his wages of him, and threatened him with an
arrest, to charge him with a felony, for which there was so
little foundation that it was proved upon the trial that
Mirabeau had never been possessed of so many shirts as
he had accused his servant of stealing ! That Mr. Justice
Buller deliberately circulated these untruths, knowing
them to be such, I do not believe. He had a very imper-

he has acted very wisely, and his honor is not in the least degrege

impeached by anything that has occurred in the prosecution

The attempt to throw a stain on the Count^s honor was very impro-
per." Old Bailey Sessions Papers, 1785, p. 396. Ed.
1 See Public Advertiser, Monday, 28th Feb. 1785.— Ed.

* I heard this from persons who told me they were present when
Mr. Justice Buller made these statements.

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Vm, HIS EABLY U7B. PIAT II. ({|

feet reeoIleetioQ of the trials although he had himself pre-
sided at it ; he fancied what he stated ; he did not give
himself the trouble of lo<^ng back to his notes, and it
did not seem to him to be very important that he should
be scrupulously exact respecting a man who had already
80 bad a reputation, and who would not be the better or
the worse for what waa thought of him in England. It
is in this way» only, that I am able to account for what
appears so extraordinary, but upon which it is hardly
possible that I can have made any mistake.

Mirabeau*s indifference as to the enemies he made was
shown in various instances during his residence in Eng-
land. In his notes upon his Cincinnati he attacked Sir
Joseph Banks for his conduct as President of the Royal
Society ; and he arraigned the judgment of the Court of
King's Bench, in the celebrated case of the Dean of St
Asaph. In private company he was positive and into-
lerant in his opinions. One remarkable instance of this
appeared at a dinner, at which I was present, at Mr.
Brand Hollis's. Among the company were John Wilkes*
General Miranda, and Mirabeau. The conversation
turned upon the English criminal law, its severity, and
the frequency of public executions. Wilkes defended
the system with much wit and good-humour, but with
very bad arguments. He thought that the happiest re-
sults followed from the severities of our penal law. It
accustomed men to a contempt of death, ^ough it never
held out to them any very cruel spectacle ; and he thought
that much of the courage of Englishmen, and of their hu-
manity too, might be traced to the nature of our capital
punishments, and to their being so often exhibited to the
people. Mirabeau was not satisfied with having the best
of the argument, and with triumphantly refuting his op-
ponent ; he was determined to crush him with his elo-
quence. He declaimed with vehemence, talked of Wilkes's
profound immorality, and with a man less cool, less in-
different about the truth, and less skilled in avoiding any
personal quarrel than Wilkes, the dispute would probably
have been attended with very serious consequences.

Mirabeau seemed to provoke and to take a pleasure in

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02 narrahvb of itss.

these Boris of controversies with celebrated men ; and he
wrote a letter to me while I was on the circuit in 1785, in
which he gave me a very detailed account of a dispute
which he supposed himself to have had with Gibbon, the
historian, at Lord Lansdowne's table, and in which he ex-
pressed himself with so much violence, that he seems in
some degree to admit that he was to blame. The most
extraordinary circumstance, however, is, that he certainly
never had any such dispute with Gibbon ; and that, at the
time when he supposed it to have taken place, Gibbon was
actually residing at Lausanne. How the mistake hap-
pened, and who it was that he took for Gibbon, I never
discovered ; but of the fact there can be no doubt, for I
have still the letter in my possession.^

I have dwelt too long, perhaps, on this extraordinary
man, especially as I shall have occasion to mention him
again, and probably more than once. My acquaintance
with him may have had considerable influence on the
subsequent events of my life, though I am unable to say
with any certainty whether it really had such an influence.
He introduced me to Benjamin Vaughan, and Benjamin
Vaughan made me acquainted with Lord Lansdowne.
Mirabeau, too, was loud in his praises of me to that noble-
man ; he had formed high expectations of me ; he was
anxious that I should act a distinguished part in the
country ; and he was impatient to see me in Parliament,
as the only theatre upon which that part could be acted.
In all this he was actuated by the most disinterested
motives, and by the purest friendship for me.'

Lord Lansdowne's acquaintance with me was entirely at
his own request He begged that I would call on him to
give him some information respecting my friend Dumont,
who at that time was the pastor of the Protestant church
at Petersburgh, and whom he had some thoughts of en-
gaging to come into this country to undertake the educa-
tion of his youngest son, Henry, the present Marquis of
Lansdowne. I accordingly waited on his Lordship, and

^ See m/ra^ '< Letters from Mirabeau" in 1785.~Ed.
« Ibid.

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1785. HIS BA.RLY LIFE, PART II. Q3

was received by him in the inost flattering manner.
From that time he anxiously cultivated my acquaintance
and my friendship ; and to that friendship I owe it that
I ever knew the affectionate wife who has been the author
of all my happiness. What procured me so kind a rcr
ception by Lord Lansdowne was less the praises of Mira-
beau, than a small tract which I had written on a subject
which at that time very much interested the public.
The trial of the Dean of St. Asaph had revived and given
a more lively interest to the question often before dis-^
cussed, '* what was the proper province of the jury in
matters of libel.*' Upon this question I had drawn up a
paper, which I called A Fragment on the Rights and
Duties qf Juries \ or by some such title, and which I
had sent anonymously to the Constitutional Society, that
Society having warmly entered into the controversy, and
being, indeed, deeply interested in the trial out of which
it arose, since the dialogue, written by Sir William Jones,
which the dean was prosecuted for publishing in Welsh,
had been originally printed in English by the Society
itself. The only object of this Society, which con-
sisted of a few men of great talents, but of which the
greater number were well meaning but foolish persons,
was to publish and circulate gratuitously political tracts
which might inform the people upon the true principles
of the constitution. These tra(;ts, as Burke has some-
where observed, were never as charitably read as they
were charitably published. The Society received my
paper, with great applause, and ordered many copies of it
to be printed and distributed. Baynes, Vaughan, and a
very few more of my friends knew the paper to be mine,
and Vaughan mentioned it as such to Lord Lansdowne, who
conceived from it a very favourable opinion of me, and
became, in consequence, desirous of my acquaintance.^
His Lordship loaded me with civilities, and seemed to
take, and I have no doubt did sincerely take, a great
interest in my success. The projects, however, which

^ The accurate title of the tract is, A Fragment on the Constitu-
tional Potoer and Duties ofJttriet, — Ed.

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04 KABKAnVB OF 178S.

Mirabeau had conceived for me, were not at this tiine
at all in question. If, indeed, they had been, I should
not have hesitated to decline them, as^ if I am not mia*
taken, I very fully stated to Baynes, in a letter which I
wrote to him from the circuit, in answer to one", in
which he stated to me all that Mirabeau had been dream*
ing about for my advantage. Some years afterwards,
indeed. Lord Lansdowne did offer me a seat in Parliament^ "^
and strongly pressed me to accept it, with an assurance
that I was to be at perfect liberty to vote and act as fl
should think proper. This was at a time when I had
got a tolerable share of business at the bar, when I seemed
certain of gaining a competence in my profession, and
when, in point of fortune, I should have risked very
little by going into Parliament It was that which, above
all things, I should have rejoiced in, if I could have gone
into the House of Commons perfectly independent, and
not with the consciousness that I was placed there by an
individual whose opinions might, on some important sub-
jects, be very different from my own. Even with all
these disadvantages, the offer was at that time so tempt-
ing, that I confess I hesitated : it was not, however, for
long : I had the good sense and the honesty to decline iU
and I have ever since applauded my determination.

But whatever distant views Lord Lansdowne might
have had» he had no wish, at this time, to see me in the
House of Commons ; and I believe he did not imagine
that I should ever be a successful speaker there. He
was very desirous, however, that I should distinguish
myself in my profession ; and he was, at the same time,
anxious that I should write some work which might
attract the attention of the public. Madan had recently

^ The following passage is taken from another of Sir SamueVs
manuscripts. — Ed.

** I was not the only person whose supposed talents had procured
him Lord Lansdowne's friendship. That admirable criticism on
Blackstone** CommentarieB, which was published under the title of
A Fragment on Government^ procured for its author, my most
excellent friend, Jeremy Bentham, an introduction to Lord Lans-
downe of the same kind, and in consequence of ithis warm friendship."

* See infra, " Letters from Mirabeau " in 1785.— Ed.

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178S. HIS EARLY LIFE. PART II. 55

published his ' Thoughts on Executive Justice ; * a small
tract» in which, hy a mistaken application of the maxim
* that the certainty of punishment is more efficacious than
its severity for the prevention of crimes,' he absurdly
insisted on the expediency of rigidly enforcing, in every
instance, our penal code, sanguinary and barbarous as it
is : the certainty of punishment he strongly recommended,
but intimated no wish to see any part of its severity re-
laxed. The work was, in truth, a strong and vehement
censure upon the judges and the ministers for their mode
of administering the law, and for the frequency of the
pardons which they granted. It was very much read,
and certainly was followed by the sacrifice of many lives,
by the useless sacrifice of them ; for though some of the
judges, and the government, for a time, adopted his rea-
soning, it was but for a short time that they adopted it ;
and, indeed, a long perseverance in such a sanguinary
system was impossible Lord Ellenborough, who seems
to consider himself as bound to defend the conduct of all
judges, whether living or dead, has lately, in the House
of Lords, in his usual way of unqualified and vehement
assertion, declared that it was false that this book had any
effect, whatever, upon either judges or ministers. To
this assertion I have only to oppose these plain facts : in
the year 1783, the year before the work was published,
there were executed in London only 51 malefactors ; in
1785, the year after it was published, there were executed
97: and it was recently after the publication of this
book that was exhibited a spectacle unseen in London for
a long course. of years before, the execution of nearly 20
criminals at a time. Lord Lansdowne, amongst others,
was dazzled and imposed upon by this writer's reason-
ing ; and he even recommended me to write something
on the same subject. This, of course, induced me to look
into the book ; but I was so much shocked at the folly
and inhumanity of it, that, instead of enforcing the same
arguments, I sat down to refute them ; and I soon after-
wards produced a little tract, which I published without
my name, as Observations on a late Publication, entitled,

VOL. I. »

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56 NARRATIVE OF 17B0.

* Thoughts on Executive Justice f and I added to it a
letter of Dr. Franklin's to Benjamin Vanghan, on the
same subject. A few of my friends, — ^Baynes, Vaugfaan,
Lord Lansdowne, Dr. Jebb, Wilberforce, and Sir Gilbert
Elliot, knew that the work was mine, and highly ap*
proved it. I did not, however, publicly avow it, nor
had I any encouragement to do so ; for though it was
much commended in the Reviews, it had so little success
with the public, that not more than a hundred copies of
it were sold. I sent a copy to each of tJie judges ; and I
had great satisfaction in hearing Mr. Justice WiUes, while
he was on the circuit, speaking highly in its praise, and
wondering who could be the author. To Lord Sydney,
who was then Secretary of State for the Home Department,
I also sent a copy ; but it was not received, his servant
having told the person by whom I sent it, that he had his
Lordship's orders not to receive any letter or parcel
without knowing whom it came from ; a curious precaution
to be used by a minister who is at the head of the police.

The little success of this pamphlet did not deter me
from occupying my leisure hours in writing observations
on different parts of our criminal law. Upon the circuit,
too, I made the criminal law very much my study, and
attended as often as I could in the Crown Court, and noted
down all the most remarkable things that passed there ;
not merely the points of law that arose, but the effects
which the different provisions of the law, the rules of
evidence, and our forms of proceeding appeared to me to
produce on the manners of the people, and on the ad-
ministration of justice.

The society of the circuit had much improved within a
few years after I first entered upon it, by the addition of
several men for whom I entertained a very great regard.
The principal of these were Ascough, Perceval, and Bram-
ston. Ascough, though possessed of large property, and
though generous to a degree which amounted to a perfect
contempt of money, followed the profession with as much
ardour as if his subsistence had depended upon his success.
He had read a great deal, always brought many books

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I78e. HIS EARLY LIFE. PART II. 57

with him upon the circuit, and was possessed of much ge-
neral knowledge, in which English lawyers are commonly
so lamentably deficient. He was cheerful, warm, friendly,
and was a great acquisition to the society of the circuit.
So, too, was Perceval : with much less, and indeed very
i ttle reading, of a conversation barren of instruction, and
with strong and invincible prejudices on many subjects ;
yet, by his excellent temper, his engaging manners, and
his sprightly conversation, he was the delight of all who
knew him. I formed a strong and lasting friendship with
both these men. Poor Ascough died of a consumption a
short time after I was married ; and Perceval, after he
had, in a manner which my private friendship for him
could never induce me to consider in a favourable point of
view, obtained the situation of Prime Minister*, and quite
to the moment of his tragical end, was desirous that our
friendship should remain uninterrupted: I could not,
however, continue in habits of private intimacy and inter-
course with one whom in public J had every day to oppose.
Bramston had the goodhumour and the friendly disposi-.
tion of the other two, and his conversation was likewise
very engaging. Many very happy hours have I passed in
this society ; particularly when we could contrive for a
day to get away from the circuit, either at Matlock, or at
our friend Digby's at Meriden, in Warwickshire.

This sort of amusement, however, was for a considerable
time the only profit that I derived from the circuit. Many
of the barristers upon it had friends and connexions in
some of the counties through which we passed, which
served as an introduction of them to business ; but for
myself, I was without connexions everywhere : and at
the end of my sixth or seventh circuit, I had made no
progress. I had been, it is true, in a few causes ; but all
the briefs I had had, were delivered to me by London at-
torneys, who had seen my face in London, and who hap-
pened to be strangers to the juniors on the circuit. They
aftbrded me no opportunity of displaying any talents, if I
had possessed them, and they led to nothing ; I might have

> See infr&, Pail. Diary, April, 1807.— Ed.

P 2

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58 NABRATIV1B OF 1787.

continued thus a mere spectator of the business done by
others, quite to the end of the sixteen years which elapsed
before I gave up every part of the circuit, if I had not
resolved, though it was very inconvenient to me on ac-
count of the business which I began to get in London, to
attend the Quarter Sessions of some Midland County.
There is, indeed, a course by which an unconnected man
may be pretty sure to gain business, and which is not un-
frequently practised. It is to gain an acquaintance with
the attorneys at the different assize-towns, to show them
great civility, to pay them great court, and to aifect before
them a display of wit, knowledge, and parts. But he who
disdains such unworthy means may, if he do not attend
the Quarter Sessions, pass his whole life in travelling
round the circuit, and in daily attendances in court,
without obtaining a single brief. When a man first
makes his appearance in court, no attorney is disposed
to try the experiment whether he has any talents ; and
when a man's face has become familiar by his having
been long a silent spectator of the business done by
others, his not being employed is supposed to proceed
from his incapacity, and is alone considered sufficient
evidence that he must have been tried and rejected. It
was an observation, indeed, which I heard Mr. Justice
Heath make, *• that there was no use in going a circuit
without attending sessions,'* which determined me to try
the experiment, and I fixed on Warwick as being the last
place upon the commission, and thei:efore that part of it
which I could attend with the least interruption of my bu-
siness in Chancery, and as being also the place at which
at that time the greatest number of causes were tried.
At the sessions there is a much less attendance of
counsel than at the assizes ; and from the incapacity for
business of many who do attend, every man is almost
certain of being tried ; and if he has any talents, of being
a good deal employed. I found the experiment very
successful ; I had not attended many sessions before I
was in all the business there ; this naturally led to business
at the assizes, and I had obtained a larger portion of it

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1787. HIS EARLY UFE, PART II. 59

than any man upon the circuit, when my occupations in
London forced me altogether to relinquish it : this» how-
ever, was at a period long subsequent to that to which I
have brought down my narrative.

The increase of my business in town was so regular and
considerable, as to make it evident that I ought princi-
pally to rely upon it, and that the circuit should be made
a matter of very subordinate consideration. It was^
indeed, more for the sake of cultivating the habit of ad-
dressing juries, of examining and cross-examining wit-
nesses, and of exercising that presence oi mind which i&
BO essential to a nisi prim advocate, and which I thought
might be of great use to me in the higher stations of the
profession to which I began to aspire, than on account
of the emolument I might derive from it, that I remained
on the circuit.

In the summer of 1787, 1 suffered an irreparable loea
by the death of my most excellent friend, Baynes. I had
engaged to pass a part of the vacation with him at his
father's in the neighbourhood of Skipton, . in Yorkshire,
and we were to have set out immediately upon my return
from the circuit ; but, upon the circuit, I received the
news of his illness, of the alarms which were entertained
for him, and of his death. He had been applying himself
to study with unusual assiduity ; his business as a special
pleader under the bar had much increased, and he had
undergone extraordinary fatigues in it ; and, during all
this, he had determined to live with a very unusual degree
of abstemiousness. He was attacked by a putrid fever,
which baffled aU the efforts of medicine, and in a very
short time brought him to his grave. His loss was one
of the greatest misfortunes which at that time could
have befallen me, and it was a source of great affliction to
me ; but I shall ever account it one of the most fortimate
occurrences, in my prosperous life, that, for six years be-
fore he died, I enjoyed his warm and generous friendship.
In death, he bore testimony of his affection for me; he
appointed me the executor of his will, and he left me a
valuable part of his library, all his classics, and all his
books upon law and legal antiquities. His friend Dr.

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70 NARRATIVB OP 1788.

Parr, at the instance of his father, wrote an inscription
for his tomb, which is very happily characteristic of him.^

In the vacation of the following year, 1788, I made a
third visit to Paris. My friend Dumont was my compa-
nion ; and my principal object was to amuse myself, and to
see more of the society of that celebrated city than my
former short visits had enabled me to do. As soon as the
circuit was over, we set out together, and after a delight-
ful journey through Normandy, by Dieppe, and Rouen, we
arrived at Paris. It was on a Saturday that we arrived ;
and on the next day the ambassadors of Tippoo Saib
were to be presented to the King at Versailles. We re-
paired thither; and though we could only procure a place
in one of the rooms through which the ambassadors passed,
yet we had an opportunity of seeing all the splendour and
gaiety of the court ; and its dazzling magnificence has
often occurred to my imagination, when I have read of
the horrible scenes which were, soon afterwards, acted on
the same theatre.

We brought with us many letters of introduction, and

particularly some from Lord I-Ausdowne ; we had both of

us already acquaintances at Paris, and we saw a great

number and a great variety of persons. Among the

^ The following ia the inscription alluded to ;— Ed.

JOANNI BAYNES, A.M.

COLLEGII 8. TRINITATIS AFDD CANTABRXOIENSIS SOCIO
JUVENI DISERTO ET SINE MALEDICTIS FACETO

VI IN6EMII AD EXCOGITANDUM ACUTA

ET FIRMA AD MEMORIAM MIEIFICE TRAEDITO

GRAECIS ET LATINIS UTERIS PENIT08 IHBUTO

LEOUH ANGLICAROM INTERIOEI

ET RE00in>ITA DISCIFLINA ERUDITO

LIBBRTATIS CONSERVANDAE PEB8TUDI0S0

PATRIAE BONORUMQUE CIVICM AMANTISSIMO

8IMPLICI JUSTO ET PROPOSITI

ANIH08E ET FOBTITER TENACI

QUI VIXIT ANN. XXVIII. MENS. III. DIEB. XXVIIL

DECES8IT LONDINI PRIDIE NON. AUGUST.

ANNO SACRO

M.DCC.LXXX.yiI.

GULIELMUS BATNBS

CONTRA YOTUH SUPER8TE8

FILIO BENE MERENTI

H. M. P.

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1788. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. i^X

most remarkable were the Duke de la Rochefoucauld,
M. de Malesherbes, M. de lAfayette, the Abb6 Morellet,
Chamfort, Dupont de Nemours, Condorcet, Mallet du
Pan, the Count de Sarsfield, Jefferson the American am-
bassador, Etienne de St Pierre, Target, and Mercier the
author of the TcUdeau de Paris, Mirabeau, too, was, at
this time, at Paris, publishing his great work on the
Prussian Monarchy. We saw him; I renewed my ac-
quaintance with him : he was delighted with Dumont's
wit and extraordinary talents ; we became again very in-
timate, and passed many hours in his most captivating
society. Amongst other objects of curiosity for travellers,
we made, during our stay at Paris, a visit to BicStre.
Mercier, Mallet du Pan, Dumont, and myself, were the
whole party. I was much shocked and disgusted at what
I saw, both in the hospital and the prison ; I saw Mirabeau
the next day, and mentioned to him the impression they
had made on me ; he exhorted me earnestly to put down
my observations in writing, and to give them to him. I
did so; and he soon afterwards translated them into
French, and published them in the form of a pamphlet, un-
der the title of Lettre (Tun Voyageur Anglais sur la Pri-
son de B%c€tre; and he added to them some observations on
criminal law, which were very nearly a translation from
the little tract I had published on Madan's Thoughts on
Executive Justice, The work was suppressed by the police
of Paris. The letter upon BicStre, after my return to
London, I printed in a periodical publication called The
Repository^ which was published by Benjamin Vaughan,
or under his auspices. I printed it as being a translation
from Mirabeau, although it was in truth the original.

Amongst all the eminent persons we saw at Paris,
there was none who impressed me with so much respect
and attachment as the good and virtuous Malesherbes.
There was a certain simplicity and warmth of heart in
him, which, at the first moment, put those who approached
him perfectly at their ease, and inspired them with
the freedom of a long and intimate acquaintance. Of
a man, who, soon afterwards, upon the trial of the un-
fortunate King, acted so magnanimous a part, it may
\>e worth while to remember a circumstance, very trifling

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72 NARRATIVE OP 1788L

in itself, but yet which puts his afOftbility and kindness of
heart in a very amiable point of view. One day that I
dined with him, the Count de Sarsfield, who was of the
party, told me and Dumont that it would be well worth
our while to go one day to some of the large guinguettea
about Paris, and to observe the scenes that passed there,
when they were filled, as they commonly were in the
evenings, with persons of the lower orders. It happened
that, in the neighbourhood of M. de Malesherbes, who
lived beyond the Boulevards, there was one of the most
celebrated and crowded of these places of entertainment ;
and the good-natured old man consented that, after
dinner, the whole company should take a walk to it. Ac-
cordingly, in the evening, the party, which was a pretty
large one, and consisted, amongst others^ of M. de la
Luzerne, M. de Lafayette, and Target the celebrated
advocate, proceeded to the guinguette. The master of
it, a man of very mean appearance and vulgar manners,
was a tenant of M. de Malesherbes ; and while they were
convei^sing together with great familiarity and bonhomie,
M. de Malesherbes, being desirous of surprising the poor
fellow with the great name of one of his guests, and eu"
joying his admiration, asked him if he had ever happened
to hear of a certain Marquis de Lafayette, pleasing him-
self with being able, when he had received for answer, as
I he expected, '* to be sure he had, as had all the rest of the
world," to point out to him the modest-looking gentleman
who was standing at his elbow ; but, to his great disap-
pointment, the man answered, '* No, really I can't say I
ever did. Pray, who was he?" His little disappoint-
ment, however, he took with that good nature which
characterized every thing that he said or did, and he
joined in the laugh against himself.

The state of public affairs, during this our visit to
Paris, was highly interesting. The administration of the
Archbishop of Sens had become extremely unpopular,
and there were some trifling commotions in the streets.
Crowds assembled on the Pont Neuf, and obliged all the
passers-by to take off their hats, in token of respect,
before the equestrian statue of Henry IV. In the coffee-
houses of the Palais Royal, the freest conversations were

1788. HIS EARLY UFE. PART 11. 73

indulged ; and in the midst of the puhlic ferment which
prevailed, a change of ministry was announced, and M.
Necker was recalled to the administration. He had not
long returned to office hefore the King declared his deter-
mination to assemble the States General. Such an event,
as may well be supposed, produced a very great effect, and
was the subject of every conversation. The best and most
virtuous men (and I place the Duke de la Rochefoucauld
and M. de Malesherbes amongst the foremost of them)
saw in it the beginning of a new era of happiness for
France, and for all the civilized world. The ambitious
rejoiced at the wide field that was opening to their aspir-
ing hopes, and the men of letters began to entertain a
higher opinion of their own importance than even they
had before conceived. There was not, however, to be
found a single individual, the most gloomy, the most
timid, or the most enthusiastically sanguine, who foresaw
any of the extraordinary events to which the assembling
the States was to lead. Who, indeed, could, in that single
measure, have discovered the seeds of what followed?—
tde abolition of the monarchy ; the public execution of
the king and queen ; the destruction of the nobility ; the
annihilation of all religion ; the erection of a petty but
most sanguinary tyranny in almost every town of France ;
a succession of wars, all contributing to increase the
martial glory of the nation ; and, finally, the establishment
of a military despotism, the subjugation of almost all
the rest of Europe, and the nearest approach that is to
be found in the history of modern times to universal
empire !

Paris was at this time, from the different characters of
the individuals we saw there, and the occasion which
called these characters forth, as instructive to us as it was
amusing. I should have been glad to have stayed longer,
and to have enjoyed and profited more by it, but I was
obliged to be back early in October, to attend the Coventry
and Warwick Quarter Sessions; and to an object of such
great importance to me as my success in my profession, I
was disposed to make great sacrifices. We reluctantly,
therefore, set out on our return, and yet I was near missing

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74 NARRATIVE OF ITSS.

the object of it ; for though we had allowed ourselves fiill
time to perform our journey, when we arrived at Boulog:ne
we found the wind adverse, and blowing so strongly, that
it was impossible to sail for England, either from that
port or from Calais; and after staying at Boulogne
nearly a week, we were still there on Saturday at one
o'clock in the day, when it was requisite that I should be
in Court, at Coventry, by ten o'clock on the morning of
the^ following Monday. This, however, by great good
fortune, I was able to accomplish. We had a passage
of only three hours; we proceeded the same night to
Canterbury; and I arrived in London early enough on
the next evening to obtain a place in a mail-coach, which
Conveyed me by nine o'clock the following morning to
Coventry.

Some months after I had returned from Paris, I re-
ceived a letter from the Count de Sarsfield, requesting
me to send him some book which stated the rules and
orders of proceeding in the English House of Commons.
He thought it would be extremely useful to assist the
States General in regulating their debates, and their
modes of transacting business. There was no such book,
and I could send him nothing that would answer his
purpose. Hatsell omits the common rules which are
known to every body, and which are just what the French
would stand the most in need of ; and he is very minute
and very ample in precedents upon points which to them
could not be of the smallest use. There was nothing to
be done but to draw up a statement of the Rules of the
House of Commons myself ; and I very cheerfully set about
it, though it was likely to occupy a good deal of my time.
In truth, I thought it of extreme importance that the
States should begin by making some regulations which
might insure order and tranquillity in their proceedings.
Dupont, who was one of the Secretaries of the Notables,
and had a proces verbal of their proceedings, had men.
tioned to me the tumult which had often prevailed in that
assembly, and which was sometimes carried to such a
height that he was obliged to suspend his journal. It was
once, he said, pleasantly proposed by one of the members

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1789. HIS EARLY UFE. FART II. >J5

to establish as a rule, that there should never be more
than four members speaking at once. I gave m3rself
great pains to make the paper I drew up as accurate as
possible ; and after I had finished it, I showed it to Sir
Gilbert Elliot, who corrected it in some matters in which
I had been mistaken, and who showed it likewise to Mr.
Ley, the assistant clerk to the House of Commons. When
it was as complete as I could make it, I sent it to the
Count de Sarsfield. He received it most thankfully,
and set about translating it into French. He died, how-
ever, before he had advanced far with the work; and
from his hands the papers passed into those of Mirabeau
Mirabeau, fully sensible of the importance of the work,
with all expedition translated and published it. It never,
however, was of the smallest use ; and no regard what-
ever was paid to it by the .National Assembly, as the
States General were pleased, soon after their meeting, to
call themselves. They met, having to form their rules and
mode of proceeding. The leading members were little
disposed to borrow any thing from England. They did
not adopt these rules, and they hardly observed any others.
Much of the violence which prevailed in the Assembly
would have been allayed, and many rash measures un-
questionably prevented, if their proceedings had been
conducted with order and regularity. If one single rule
had been adopted, namely, that every motion should be
reduced into writing in the form of a proposition before
it was put from the chair, instead of proceeding, as was
their constant course, by first resolving the principle as
they called it (decreter le principe), and leaving the draw-
ing up what they had so resolved (or, as they called it,
la redaction) for a subsequent operation, it is astonishing
how great an influence it would have had on their de-
bates and on their measures. When I was afterwards
present, and witnessed their proceedings, I had often
occasion to lament that the trouble I had taken had been
of no avail.

I was among those who, in the early stages of the
French Revolution, entertained the most sanguine expec-
tations of the happy effects which were to result from it,

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76 NARKATIVE OF 17g9.

not to France alone, but to the rest of the world ; and I
very early, I think some time about July, 1789, published
a short pamphlet on the subject, under the title of
Thoughts on the probable Influence qf the hie JRevohitum
in France upon other Countries, or some such tiUe.^

By the time that I was able to enjoy again the leisure of
a long vacation, events in France had become so interesting^
and the National Assembly, then sitting at Versailles, had
become an object of such curiosity, that I could not resist
the desire of being a near spectator of them. Acoor-
dingly 1 set out, on the first day after I was released from
the circuit, for Paris. I arrived there shortly after the
celebrated decrees of the 4th of August had been passed
— ^those decrees by which in an evening sitting, and in a
moment of enthusiasm, the Assembly had, by a string of
hasty resolutions, abolished tithes and all feudal rights^
without considering what consequences were to follow^
or what compensations or precautions it might be expe-
dient should accompany' such important 'measures. Aa
the rules which govern all other legislative assemblie&
had been neglected, no guards whatever had been put on
the legislative powers which the Assembly exercised. It
was not necessary that an alteration of the law should pass
through various stages, so as to become the subject, or at
least to afford the opportunity, of renewed consideration
and debate. After some of the first resolutions had been
passed, the rest were carried by acclamation the moment
they were proposed ; and I afterwards heard it lamented
by several of the deputies, that they had not availed them-
selves of that fortunate moment of effervescence and en-
thusiasm to propose the abolition of other abuses, which
it would then have been only necessary to have named in
order to have destroyed. How unfortunate, I have heard
it said, that no person happened to think of the Slave
Trade!

At Versailles, I found Dumont and Duroveray living
there together, and together conducting a periodical pub-
lication which gave an account of the proceedings of the

^ Thought* on the prMble Influence of the French Revolution on
Great Britain, The year on the title-page is 1790.~£d..

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1789. HIS EARLY LIFE. PART II. tjtj

National Assembly, and was entitled the Courrier de Pro-
vence. It passed with the public for Mirabeau's ; and was
a continuation of the Letters to his Constituents, which
rendered them an account of his own conduct and of that
of the other deputies. Duroveray and Dumont had gone
to Paris early in the year, to endeavour to avail them-
selves of M. Necker being minister to procure for their
common country, Geneva, an alteration of the law which
France had guaranteed at the late fatal revolution in that
republic. They had— and who could avoid it ? — taken a
great interest in the opening of the States, and the events
that rapidly followed. Mirabeau was well aware of their
talents, and was disposed to benefit by them. On several
important occasions they assisted him ; and the address
of the Assembly to the King for the removal of the troops,
an address which was adopted the moment that Mirabeau
had proposed it, and which produced so great an effect in
France, was entirely written by Dumont. The last of
Mirabeau's letters to his constituents, one of the most elo-
quent compositions in the French language, was also Du-
mont*s. Its extraordinary success suggested the idea of
pubUshing a regular journal, under a different title, and
not under Mirabeau's name, but which, from the great
talents displayed in it, was generaUy supposed to be
written by him ; and he was too proud of the performance
to deny it. Of course, I found Dumont and Duroveray
in great intimacy with Mirabeau. They were very well
acquainted, too, with other members of the Assembly. I
had a letter from Lord Lansdowne to Necker ; I was ac-
quainted with the Bishop of Chartres, a deputy to the
States ; and by these various means I saw a great number
of the persons who were most distinguished as speakers
in the Assembly. I was very frequent in my attendance
there, and often heard Mounier, Bamave, Lally Tolendal,
Thouret, Maury, Casales, and D'Epresmenil, who were
some of the speftkers at that time most looked up to by
the different parties. I heard Robespierre ; but he was
then so obscure, and spoke with so litUe talent or success,
that I have not the least recollectiou of his person. I
met the Abb6 Sieyes several times at the Bishop of

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78 NARRATIVE OF 1789 .

Chartres' ; he was the Bishop's atimdnier, and a person of
whose talents he entertained the highest opinion. Sieyes
was of a morose disposition, said little in company, and
appeared to have a full sense of his own superiority, and
great contempt for the opinions of others. He was,
however, when I saw him, greatly out of humour with the
Assembly, and with everybody who had concurred in its
decree for the abolition of tithes, and seemed to augur
very ill of the revolution. While I was at Versailles, he
published his defence of the tithes, with this motto pre-
fixed to it — ** lis veulent etre libres, et ils ne savent pas Stre
justes." At the Bishop of Chartres', too, I sometimes
met with P6tion, a man who appeared to me to have
neither talents nor vices which could have enabled him to
have so great and so unfortunate an influence on public
affairs as he afterwards appeared to have. What struck
me as most remarkable in the dispositions of the people
that I saw, was the great desire that every body had to
act a great part, and the jealousy which in consequence
of this was entertained of those who were really eminent.
It seemed as if all persons, from the highest to the lowest,
whether deputies themselves, declaimers in the Palais
Royal, orators in the coffee-houses, spectators in the gal-
lery, or the populace about the door, looked upon them-
selves individually as of great consequence in the revolu-
tion. The man who kept the hotel at which I lodged at
Paris, a certain M. Villars, was a private in the National
Guard. Upon my returning home on the day of the be-
nediction of their colours at Notre Dame, and telling him
that I had been present at the ceremony, he said, "You
saw me. Sir ?" I was obliged to say that I really had not
He said, " Is that possible, Sir ? You did not see me.
Why I was in one of the first ranks— all Paris saw me !"
I have often since thought of my host's chDdish vanity.
What he spoke was felt by thousands. The most impor-
tant transactions were as nothing, but as they had rela-
tion to the figure which each little self-conceited hero
acted in them. To attract the attention of all Paris, or of
all France, was often the motive of conduct in matters
which were attended with most momentous consequences.

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1789. HIS EARLY UFE, PART IL 79

The confidence which they felt in themselves, and their
unwillingness to be informed by persons capable of giving
them information, were not a little remarkable. I was
dining one day at M. Necker's, at Versailles, at a great
dinner, at which many of the deputies were present;
amongst others, M. Malouet, a man of considerable
eminence. It was a day in which great tumult had pre-
vailed in the National Assembly, and the Bishop of
Langres, who was then the president, had rung his bell to
command silence till he had broken it ; but all had been
in vain. The conversation turned upon this. Malouet
observed, that in the English House of Commons the
greatest order prevailed, and that this was acc^biplished
by dint of the great authority vested in the Speaker, Who
had power, if any member behaved disorderly, to impose
silence on him by way of punishment for two months, or
any other limited period of time. M. Necker turned
round to me as the only Englishman present, and asked
me if this was so. M. Malouet had been so positive and
bold in his assertion, that I thought the most polite way
in which I could contradict him, was to say that I had
never heard of it. But this only served to give that gen-
tleman an opportunity of showing his great superiority
over me. I might not, he said, have heard of it, but of
the fact there was not the least doubt.

Mirabeau was acting a great part during the whole
time that I was at Versailles ; and it was not surprising
that he was a little intoxicated by the applause and ad-
miration which he received. He was certainly a very
extraordinary man, with great defects undoubtedly, but
with many very good qualities ; possessed of great talents
himself, and having a singular faculty of bringing forward
and availing himself of the talents of others. He was a
great plagiarist; but it was from avarice, not poverty,
that he appropriated to himself the views and the elo-
quence of others. Whatever he found forcible or beauti-
ful, he considered as a kind of common property which he
might avail himself of^ and which he ought to make the
most of to promote the object he had in view ; and not-
withstanding all tiiat has been said against him, I am well

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80 NAREATIVE OF 1789.

convinced that both in his writings and in his speeches he
had what he sincerely conceived to he the good of man-
kind for his object. He was vain, and he was inordinately
ambitious ; but his ambition was to act a noble part, and
to establish the liberty of his coimtry on the most solid
foimdations. He was very unjustly accused of having
varied in his politics, and of having gone over to the
court. From the beginning, and when he was the idol of
the people, he always had it in view to establish a limited
monarchy in France upon the model of the British Con-
stitution. That at the time when the democratical
leaders in France had far other projects in contemplation
he was in secret correspondence with the court, and that
he received money from the King, I think highly pro-
bahle ; and the gross immorality of such conduct I am
not disposed to justify, or even to palliate. But those
who believe that he suffered himself to be bribed to do
what his own heart and judgment condemned, and that
unbribed he would have acted a very different part, do
him, in my opinion, and I had frequent opportunities of
hearing his sentiments at the different periods when I
was intimately acquainted with him, very great injustice.
I have already spoken of his relaxed morality, and of
his vanity. In matters of indifference, yea, and some-
times in matters of importance txx), the placing himself in
an advantageous point of view to those whose applause or
admiration he courted, far outweighed the interests of
truth. Among many instances of this kind which came
within my own observation, there was one so remarkable
that; I cannot forbear to mention it. In one of the early
numbers of the Courrier de Provence, in which Mirabeau
wrote himself, he represents Mounier as saying in the
National Assemhly that it was corruption wbdch had de-
stroyed England, and himself as very happily turning
that extravagant hyperbole into ridicule, by exclaiming
upon the important news so unexpectedly communicated
to the Assembly of the destruction of England, and asking
when and in what form that remarkable event had heen
brought about ? The truth, however, ^s, that of all this
not a single word was uttered in the Assembly. Neither

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1789. HIS EARLY UFE, PART IL 3^

Mounier nor any other person talked of the destruction of
England ; neither Mirabeau nor any other person made
any such reply as he assumes to himself. The whole
origin of this fiction was, that, while Mirabeau was writ-
ing his Courrier de Provence^ exactly what he has stated
passed in a private conversation, at which he was present.
Brissot de Warville used the words which he has ascribed
to Moimier, and Dumont those which he has claimed for
himself. He thought the dialogue too good and too hap-
pily expressed to be lost ; he made himself the hero of it,
and placed the scene in the National Assembly : and this,
though he well knew that Brissot, Dumont, Mounier, and
all the members of the Assembly, could give evidence of
the falsehood of his statement, and which, indeed, Mou-
nier took occasion formally to do in the justification of
his own conduct, which he not long afterwards published.

Of all Mirabeau's extraordinary talents, his faculty of
availing himself of the knowledge and abilities of others
was perhaps the most extraordinary. As an author, he
has published the works of others, and, with their permis-
sion, under his own name, and as if they were his own.
The eight octavo volumes which he published on the
Prussian Monarchy were entirely, as to every thing but
the style, the work of M. de Mauvillon. His tracts upon
finance were Claviere's ; the substance of his work on the
Cincinnati was to be found in an American pamphlet ;
his pamphlet on the opening of the Scheldt was Benjamin
Vaughan's : and I once saw him very eager to undertake
a great work on geography, of which he was totally igno<
rant, in the expectation that M. de Rochette, a geographer
of great merit, and with whom he had contracted great
intimacy, would supply him with all the materials for it
As an orator, he on many occasions delivered in the Na-
tional Assembly speeches as his own, which had been com-
posed for him by others; and so much confidence had he
in the persons who thus contributed to establish his repu-
tation, that he has sometimes, to my knowledge, read at
the tribune of the Assembly speeches which he had not
even cast his eyes upon before, and which were as new to
himself as to hk admiring audience.

VOL. I. o

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32 NARBATIVE OF HIS EABLY LIFE. 1789.

I was again obliged to leave Paris by the end of Sept-
ember, that I might not lose the Quarter Sessions. I
left it with a much less favourable opinion of the state of
public affairs than that which I had entertained when I
arrived there. I found the most exaggerated and extra-
vagant notions of liberty entertained by many, and the
most violent and bitter animosities prevailing, and all that
disposition to violence on the part of the lower orders of
the people which, a few days afterwards, manifested itself
in the insurrection that ended in bringing the Royal Family
to Paris.

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CORRESPONDENCE.

LETTERS TO THE REV. JOHN ROGET,
FROM 1780 TO 1783.

1780—1783.
Letter I.

Gray*B Inn, June 6, 1780.

At last, then, my dear Roget, my mind may be some-
what at ease. The salutary air of Lausanne, and your
great attention to your health, have, thank God, enabled
you to write a letter which has given me the greatest joy.
From the moment when I ought to have taken leave of
you in the coach at Rochester, but could not, because I
perceived I had not sufficient fortitude for the ceremony,
to the instant that I received your letter from Lausanne,
I have never thought of you without anxiety. I had no
sooner read any of your letters from Geneva> than imme-
diately the melancholy reflection rose in my mind, that
you were ill ; and that fourteen days had elapsed since my
last news from you. But what was my anxiety when
sometimes fourteen days were added to that, before we
bad another letter ; and perhaps, from the delay of posts,
even more ! But I may flatter myself that, hereafter, the
delay of receiving news from you will be no otherwise
disagreeable, than as it will delay the pleasure of hearing
that you continue to grow better. I will endeavour that
my imagination shall be as active in magnifying to myself
your increasing health and strength, as it was once busy,
to my torment, in representing every circumstance that
concerned you in too gloomy colours. Yes, my dear friend,
the love of you and my dear sister will now be rewarded

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34 LETTERS TO Jane,

with uninterrupted felicity, I hope, in this life ; it is not
presumptuous to say, I am sure it will in that to come.

The shameful means hy which, as I related to you in
a former letter, names were procured to the petition for
repealing the Catholic Act, did not give one any idea that
the party could he either very formidable or numerous :
but you know how dangerous an engine religion is, when
employed upon the minds of the ignorant ; so dangerous,
indeed, that it is formidable in any hands, however weak
and contemptible. The Methodists, the followers of Wes-

Iley, and the sectaries of Whitfield, were the first, if not to
raise, at least to join, the cry against Popery ; and it should
seem, from the effects that have been produced, that no
art has been left untried, which either could magnify the
1 terrors of the people, by painting to their imagination in
/ the most glaring colours all the horrors of Popery, or
could infuse among them a mistaken zeal and a dangerous
spirit of fanaticism. One way or other, 40,000 persons
were prevailed on to sign the petition. Lord George Gor-
don, that he might give it greater weight, or rather, that
he might by violence force it upon the House, advertised
in the newspapers as president, and in the name of (what
they style themselves) the Protestant Association, the day
on which he purposed presenting the petition to the House,
at the same time desiring the attendance of all the petition-
ers ; and " as no hall is capable of containing 40,000 men '*
(such were the words of the advertisement), they were re»
quired to assemble in St. George's Fields, wearing blue
cockades as a distinction by which they might know one
another. The concourse of people on the appointed day,
which was last Friday, was astonishing. You know how
difficult it is to judge with accuracy of the numbers of a
multitude assembled in an open field. By the largest
computation I have heard, and which is certainly very
much exaggerated, there were 100,000 in the fields ; but
by the most moderate accounts, no less than 14,000 accom-
panied Lord George to the House of Commons.
f When I arrived at Westminster, whither I went to
\ hear a debate that was to come on in the House of Lords

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1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. g^

upon a motion of the Duke of Richmond, I found the
large opening (which you may remember) between the
Parliament House and Westminster Abbey, all the
avenues of the House and the adjoining streets, thronged
with people wearing blue cockades. They seemed to
consist, in a great measure, of the lowest rabble ; men
who, without doubt, not only had never heard any of the
arguments for or against toleration, but who were utterly
ignorant of the very purport of the petition. To give
you one instance : a miserable fanatic who accosted me,
not indeed with any friendly design, but to question me
where my cockade was, which I very civilly informed him
I had dropped out of my hat in the crowd, told me that
the reign of the Romans had lasted too long — the object |
of the petition, you know, is only to repeal an Act * that \
passed the year before last. As I think there is much to
be learned by studying human nature, even in its most
humiliating and disgusting forms, I would fain have
mingled in a circle which I saw assembled round a female
preacher, who, by her gestures and actions, seemed to be
well persuaded, or desirous of persuading others, that she
was animated by some supernatural spirit ; but I found
it attended with some little danger : the want of a cockade
was a sure indication of a want of the true faith, and I
did not long remain unquestioned as to my religious
principles. My joining, however, in the cry of "No
Popery I^' soon pacified my inquisitors, or rather, indeed, .
gained me their favour ; for a very devout butcher in- [
sisted upon shaking hands with me as a token of his
friendship. Upon my getting into the House of Lords,
I found my Lord Mansfield, and five or six peers, who t
were all that were yet assembled, seemingly in great I
consternation from the news they had just received of
Lord Stonnont's being in great danger from the popu^

^ There i| a very good account of the object of thi« Act, and of
the circumstaDcei under which it was paued, in Burke's speech to
the electors of Bristol.*

» This and the following notes, in the Correspondence, are in-
serted by the Editors.

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35 LETTERS TO June,

lace. That lord, however, soon made his appearance ; he
had been treated rudely, but not very outrageously, by
the mob. Lord Hillsborough and several other peers
came in soon after, with their hair dishevelled, having
lost their bags in the scuffle they had to get into the
House. Lord Bathurst, the late Chancellor, was pulled
in by the attendants out of the hands of the populace.
Several noblemen, among others Lord Sandwich, seeing
the ;danger, had returned home ; so that the House was

I rather thin. The Duke of Richmond, notwithstanding,
rose to speak upon the motion he was about to make.

\He had proceeded in his speech for about an hour,

/though with frequent interruptions from the thundering
of the mob at the doors of the House, and the shouting

i that was heard without, when one of the peers abruptly
entered to inform the Lords that the populace had forced
Lord Boston out of his coach, and that his life was thought
to be in the greatest danger. Several lords immediately'
offered to go out and rescue him ; but, by the assistance
of thfe attendants and some of the people about the
House, this was rendered unnecessary. Not long after,
word was brought that Lord Ashburnham was in the
same situation, surrounded by the mob and in great
danger ; at last, however, he was dragged into the House
over the heads of the people, and apparently much hurt.
The tumult becoming every moment more violent, it was
found impossible to go on with any business ; and at half-
past eight the House adjourned. Thus far as to what I
was myself a witness to.

At the House of Commons, the lobby was so much
crowded with the petitioners, that the members could
hardly get in ; and none, it is said, were suffered to pass
without giving in their names to Lord George Gordon,
and promising to vote for the repeal. As soon as the
House sat upon business, the petition was taken into
consideration ; but certainly nothing could be done upon
it then, for many members had been deterred from
coming to the House, and those who were present were
far from enjoying any freedom of debate. A motion
was therefore made to defer the further consideration of

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1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 37

it till the following Tuesday, and carried by a majority of
190 against 9. Lord George then came into the gallery
over the lobby, and harangued the populace: he told
them their petition was as good as rejected ; that if they
expected redress they must keep in a body, or meet day
after day till the Catholic Act was repealed. Some of
his friends, who stood behind him, besought him, with
the greatest earnestness, not to excite the people to mea-
sures which must be destructive to themselves; but
nothing could deter this frantic incendiary, till he was
by violence forced back into the House. The clamours
of the people were now become so loud, and there ap-
peared among them symptoms of such a dangerous tem-
per, that it was absolutely necessary to call up the Guards.
This expedient was so far successful that the lobby and
the avenues of the House were soon cleared ; but, with-
out doors, the fury of the populace was ungovernable.
The Bishop of Lincoln, the Chancellor's brother, was
torn out of his coach as he was going to the House ;
happily he escaped out of the hands of the mob, and took
refuge in a house in Palace Yard ; the mob, however,
pursued him, broke the windows, and insisted so reso-
lutely on being admitted to search for him, that it was
impossible to keep them out any longer than while the
Bishop changed his dress, and made his escape over the
garden wall. The tumult continued till very late at night,
when the mob divided into different parties and broke
into three Homish chapels (two of which belonged to
Ambassadors), tore down the a] tars, the organs, and
decorations of the chapels, brought them out into the
street and burned them. Not content with this, at the
Sardinian Ambassador's, they carried the fire into the
chapel: the inside was presently consumed, but for-
tunately no other damage was done.

It is well that none of our patriots, except that mad-\
man. Lord George Gordon, promote these disturbances.
The opposition, in general, are entirely against the ob-
ject of the petition. I myself heard the Duke of Rich-
mond declare, upon one of the occasions when he was in-
terrupted in his speech, that •* he would ever oppose the

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gg LETTERS TO June,

repeal of the Aot ; that he was determined to defend liherty
♦ of conscience in all sects of religion : those were his un-
alterable sentiments; no fears, no hopes, should ever
make him change them ; they were what he would not
scruple to go out and declare to the multitudes who were
assembled at the doors of the House, though they were
twice 50,000." Several of the rioters were taken, some
i in the very act of carrying fire into the chapel ; these de-
V luded wretches will be tried and executed without delay,
for, the following day, the Lords voted unanimously, that
an address should be presented to the King, to give direc-
tions for prosecuting with rigour the authors, abettors,
and instruments of these outrages. Severity is a very
' dangerous instrument for suppressing religious fury.
You know how often the guiltiest sufferers in such a
cause are elevated into martyrs, and how a fanatical
preacher may work upon his hearers to court a death,
which is instantly to be rewarded with a crown of glory.
And yet in the present circumisdances there seems no
other expedient. This rage of mistaken zeal is the more
extraordinary, and the more to be dreaded, because it has
no visible cause. The Catholics have not, of late, used
any extraordinary pomp in their mass- houses, their num-
bers have not increased, nor have they in any respect
made a bad use of the relaxations given them by the late
Act. Stories, indeed, have, of late, been very artfully and
very maliciously circulated of their making a number of
proselytes ; but not one instance of this that I can find is
well authenticated. As to the hypocrites who excite these
outrages, they affect the greatest moderation. In their
advertisement, they requested the Protestants (for they
pretend that none are Protestants but the petitioners) to
behave with decency and order. What I — summon
40,000 fanatics to meet together, and expect them to be
orderly ! What is it but to invite hungry wretches to a
banquet, and at the same time enjoin them not to eat ?
But the real intentions of these men are evident from
some hand-bills they distributed, under the same pretext
of inculcating moderation and the spirit of peace. In
these they say that, as there was great reason to suspect

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1780. THE REV. JOHN ROOET. gg

that a number of Papists intended to mingle in disguise
among the petitioners for the purpose of raising riots and •
disturbances, they entreated the Protestants not to return
their insults or violence, but to secure the aggressors
quietly, and give them up to the constables who should at- !
tend. Who does not see that the former part of this ad-
monition was all that was intended to have any effect, and
that when once the terrors of the people were set afloat, |
every purpose of it was answered ? I

On Sunday night the mob assembled again in Moor-
iiekls, broke into a mass-house that had lately been built
there, and into some adjoining houses which were inha-
bited by Catholics, destroyed all the furniture, and every
thing they could lay hands on, and at last set fire to the
houses. Five were consumed besides the mass-house.
Last night, they committed great outrages at the houses
of several persons who had appeared as witnesses against
those who were taken. Afterwards they broke all the
windows and destroyed all the furniture at the house of
Sir George Savile, a man who bears an excellent character, V
who is one of the most active men in the opposition, and
who was the very person who brought up the York peti- \
tion to the Parliament ; but all these merits it seems are
cancelled by his having moved, two years ago, to give
some privileges to an unfortunate class of men, who were
unjustly the objects of very rigorous laws. I hope a sud-
den exertion of severity will put a stop to these enormi-
ties ; but I confess I am not very sanguine in my hopes,
for when a torrent of religious fury is once let loose, who
shall say to it, "Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther?"

Though part of my paper remains imfilled, I must here
bid you good night^ unless I postpone sending off this
letter to another post, and I know you would be impa-
tient to remain so long without hearing from your sincere
friend,

Saml. Romilly.

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90 LETTERS TO Jaw,

Letter II.

Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, June 9, 1780.

I would not suffer a post to pass, after the alarming in-
telligence which my last letter contained, without writing
to you ; but it will be necessary first to inform you, that
we are now quite at peace again, and that last night the
most profound tranquillity reigned in every part of Lon-
don. The evening of Tuesday, the day when I wrote to
you last, was attended with the most violent outrages and
excesses that can be imagined. I informed you, I be-
lieve, that the further consideration of the petition was re-
ferred to that day. Prodigious multitudes, wearing blue
cockades, assembled, as before, in Palace Yard ; but, on
the first appearance of a crowd, guards, both foot and
'horse, were drawn up, and formed an avenue for the
; Members to pass to the House. But this martial appear-
ance, far from intimidating the mob, only rendered them
more insolent: they boldly paraded the streets with
colours and music, and attempted to pass through the
Park to Buckingham House ; but were stopped by a very
strong party of guards stationed there. TTie Lords, how-
ever, were suffered to go on to the House with no out-
rage, though they were followed by the hisses and re-
proaches of the people, till the arrival of Lord Sandwich.
His chariot was stopped at the end of Parliament Street,
where there happened not to be any guards, and the cha-
riot doors were immediately torn open. At that instant
three light horsemen rode up to his relief, but all the as-
sistance they could give him was^ to make room for his
carriage to turn round ; this was accordingly effected,
though with difficulty, and he drove back to the Admi-
ralty with the utmost rapidity ; but some of the most
daring of the rioters seized the horses' bridles and again
stopped him. I expected that moment to have seen him
torn in pieces ; but leaping quickly out of the chaiiot, he
saved himself in a coffee-house, and a very strong party
of guards immediately rode up and kept off the mob.
About five o'clock the rioters were become so outrageous.

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1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. QJ

that there was no possibility of awing them but by read-
ing the Riot Act, which (you know) gives a right to fire
upon the mob if they do not disperse. Upon this a great
part of the rioters quitted Palace Yard; but they only
quitted it with an intention to wreak their fury upon the
objects of their resentment in other parts of the town.
One party went straight to the house of the justice of
peace who had read the act, and entirely demolished it.
Another, and a much stronger body, marched to New-
gate, demanded the release of the persons who were con-
fined there for burning the ambassadors* chapels ; and,
this demand not being complied with, broke open all the
doors, set at liberty all the felons and debtors, and set fire
to the prison and to the keeper's house, which were both
presently consumed. They then proceeded to the New
Prison at Clerkenwell, and set free all the prisoners who
were there in confinement. About one o'clock in the \
morning they attacked the house of Lord Mansfield ; his 1
Lordship had but just time to escape by a back door when '
they broke in. A bonfire was immediately made, in the
street, of his furniture : and with merciless fury they
threw into it all his books, and, among others, many ma- ,
nuscripts of inestimable value. At last, they set fire to |
the house, which was presently burned down to the /
ground. The soldiers, after having for a long time en-
dured the insults of the populace, were at last obliged to
fire. Eight or nine persons were killed and several
wounded. The same night, the house of Sir John Field-
ing was burned ; and in diiferent parts all over the town
the houses of Catholics were 'pulled down or set on fire.
Some, of the mob at last insisted upon lights being put up
at every window, in joy for the destruction of Newgate ;
the illumination accordingly was general. You can
hardly represent to yourself so melancholy a sight as this
appearance of ijiyoluntary rejoicing, and at the same time
to behold the sky glowing on every side with the light of
different conflagrations, as if the city had been taken by
an enemy. The terror which these acts of violence spread
through the town is not easy to be conceived. The next
day, Wednesday, it was reported everywhere that, that

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92 LETTERS TO June,

night, the houses of the Secretaries of State, of every
Bishop, of every Catholic, of every justice of the peace, and
of all the King's tradesmen, were marked out for destruc-
tion. The Catholics, and many other persons, moved all
their effects ; their neighhours as well as themselves fled
into the country, or waited, in the utmost horror, the ap-
proach of evening. The panic which had seized upon the
people gave birth to a multitude of alarming reports ; at
one time it was said that none of the soldiers would do
then: duty, but were all ready to join with the rioters ; at
. another, that there were insurrections as dangerous in the
country, and that 30,000 colliers were upon their way to
London to join the insurgents. The King and his Privy
Council took the most effectual way to put a stop to the
enormities which were being committeid; they ordered
a great number of the regiments of the militia to march
straight to London, and issued a proclamation command-
ing all persons to keep within their houses at night, and
warning them of the ill consequences of neglecting this
injunction, as the King was resolved to exert the military
force to put an end to these rebellious and treasonable
practices. Martial law was thus established, by which all
persons taken, concerned in these riots, were liable to
be tried by a court martial, and executed upon the spot ;
but, as this proclamation was not universally known, and
but few of the militia regiments arrived in town by
Wednesday night, many daring outrages were still com-
mitted. Several houses were pulled down, the King's
Bench prison thrown open, and about 700 prisoners
released, and the prison set on fire and consumed. But
the insolence and audaciousness of these men were not
confined to night ; in the middle of the day they made
bonfires of the goods of several Papists openly in the
streets; in some places they went in a large body, from
house to house, exacting contributions, which they called
mob-money. The excesses which these delirious wretches
committed are inconceivable : among^ other houses, they
threatened to pull down that of a Catholic, a distiller in
Holbom ; the man, to save his house, told the rioters
that he would give them out liquor as long as they

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1780. THE RllV. JOHN ROGET.' 93

pleased ; this stipulation was immediately concluded on» '
and spirituous liquors were accordingly handed out to
the mob in large vessels ; they drank to such a degree
that numbers of them lay intoxicated in the middle of
the way, and some died. But all this could not save the
poor man's house, which was set fire to the following .
night. Last night, and to-day, every thing has been at
peace: we have two encampments, one in St. James's
Park, and another in Hyde Park ; no man is suffered to
wear a blue cockade in the streets, and we have no doubt
that the rioters are entirely quelled. I have just received
news that Lord George Gordon is taken; the person
who told me saw him conducted through the Park by a
party of light horse, under the care of the Usher of the
Black Rod. I have not time to write more to you at
present, but you may depend upon hearing from some of
us by the next post.

Your affectionate brother,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter III.
Dear Roget, J»ine is, i780.

I should not write to you again so soon, but for the
sake of fulfilling the promise I made you in my last. Such
profound tranquillity reigns in London, that the late
scenes of riot and confusion seem nothing but a dream.
Indeed, the outrages which have been committed this
week past were so unexpected and so unaccountable,
that one would be inclined to believe one's senses had
deceived one, did not the ruins of houses and other
vestiges of the fury of the populace in all parts of the
town make it evident that these calamities are but too
real. In the account I have given you of these transac-
tions, I mention no circumstance but what I was either
an eyewitness of myself, or heard from authority which
I had no reason to doubt. I could not disguise the truth,
though I was afraid it would alarm you; much less
would I be so cruel as to exaggerate the horror of my
narration. It was really no exaggeration to say that, on

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94 LETTEBS Td . Jane,

Tuesday and Wednesday nights, London had the ap-
pearance of a city taken by storm. The fires blazing in
different parts of the town, the terror and dismay of one
part of the inhabitants, and the rage and licentiousness
of the other, were equal to what one can imagine in such
a catastrophe. There seems no probability that these
monstrous excesses were concerted beforehand, or that
they formed part of any regular plan to overturn the
Government. They appear to me to have been only the
/ accidental effects of the ungovernable fury and licentious-
ness of a mob, who gathered courage from their num-
bers, and who, having ventured on one daring act, found
their only safety to lie in imiversal havoc and devastation.
When once the rioters had gone so far as to bum down
Newgate, one cannot be surprised at their entering on
any enterprise, however daring; for, besides that they
thought they might go on with impunity when they had
left no prisons wherein to confine them, they gained as
an accession to, or rather as leaders of their party, a set
of criminals whose lives were already forfeited to their
country. One of these wretches, who was to have been
hanged the following day, appeared at my Lord Mans-
field's on horseback, leading on the rioters. But religion
has certainly been used, and too successfully, as an instru-
ment to excite these feuds; not that I think any the
wildest fanatics were concerned in breaking open the
prisons, but they were certainly wrought up to a pitch of
fury, which made them capable of any acts of violence
against the Catholics, and ripe for any mischief that
could be represented as serviceable to their religion. I
can give you some proofs how grossly the people have
been deceived and played upon by some designing vil-
lains. I have heard from three persons (a]l strangers
to each other) who jpined in conversation with the popu-
lace, that it was a current opinion among them that the
King was a Papist Some were sure of it: they pre-
tended to know that he heard mass privately, and that
his confessor had the direction of all politicaJ concerns.
A woman told a friend of mine that she hoped to see the
streets stream with the blood of Papists. But nothing

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1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 95

shows more evidently what base arts have been practised
to rouse the fears of the people, and excite them to mad-
ness, than a hand-bill which was distributed about the
streets oh the morning of Tuesday. I will transcribe itT
verbatim, for it now lies before me. " England in blood !
On Thursday morning, the 8th instant, will be published,
TTie Thunderer, addressed to Lord 'George Gordon and
the glorious Protestant Association, showing the necessity
of their persevering and being united as one man against
the infernal designs of the Ministry to overturn the
religious and civil liberties of this country, in order to
introduce Popery and slavery. In this paper will be
given a full account of the bloody tyrannies, persecutions,
plots, and inhuman butcheries exercised on the pro-
fessors of the Protestant religion in England by the See
of Rome, together with the names of the martyrs and
their sufferings, highly necessary to be read at this im-
portant moment by every Englishman who loves his Grod
and his country. To which will be added, some reasons
why the few misguided people now in confinement for
destroying the Romish chapels should not suffer, and the
dreadful consequences of an attempt to bring them to
punishment." The author of this paper has been since
taken into custody.

Lord George Gordon underwent an examination last
Friday before the Privy Council during three hours.
Nothing more, it is reported, appeared against him than
an inflammatory letter which he had sent to be inserted
in one of the newspapers, wherein he applauded the
rioters for what they had done, and encouraged them to
further excesses ; and some private letters to confidential
friends in Scotland, relating the events that had passed
in London, and speaking of them in terms of high ap-
probation; but there was no evidence of his having
planned any revolution. The Privy Council committed
Lord George a prisoner to the Tower. From what I
knew of Lord George Gordon before the present dis-
turbances, (which, by the way, was only by having heard
him often speak in the House of Commons,) I never
thought him a man from whom his country had much to

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9g LETTEBS TO June,

dread. He spoke, indeed, U{K)n all occasions, but his
speeches were incoherent and ridiculous. One day, I
remember, he read a newspaper as part of his speech ;
at another time, he kept the whole House waiting two
hours while he read them an Irish pamphlet. He seemed
the less dangerous as he had not the support of either
party ; one day he attacked the Ministry, the next the
Opposition, and sometimes both the one and the other.
It has ,'happened to him to divide the House, when he
alone voted for a question to which every other member
gave his negative. Yet what dreadful effects may not a
mistaken zeal produce even in such hands as these!
Though it must be confessed that Lord George Gordon
is not destitute of qualities which, in an age when reli-
gion had greater influence upon the minds of men than
it has at present, might have raised him to be the scourge
of his country. He is endowed with a spirit of enthu-
siasm, and with the most determined resolution; add
to this, that his manner of speaking not being in
the least declamatory, but in the style of conversation,
is most capable of working an effect upon an ignorant
audience.

I believe I did not mention in my former letter that
these civil broils have converted me into a soldier.
Gray's Inn was one of the places which these determined
f enemies to all law threatened to lay in ashes. All the
law societies (for Lincoln's Inn and the Temple were
likewise threatened with destruction) resolved to stand
upon their defence. Accordingly we all armed our-
selves, and kept watch at our different gates for several
nights. The Temple, however, was the only Inn of
Court that was attacked ; and there the rioters retreated
very precipitately when they found what resistance was
made to them. This example is followed all over the
town : the inhabitants of almost every parish arc forming
themselves into associations to protect their houses and
property; so that hereafter, should any disturbance of
this kind happen, it will be very shortly quelled, without
the assistance of tlie soldiery. And we shall esteem it
no small happiness to be able to do without them ; for.

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1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 97

though we are greatly indebted to the military power for
saving our effects from being plundered, and our houses
from being burned, it is no very comfortable sight to
Englishmen to see encampments at their very doors, .
and soldiers patrolling all their streets. I should not/
omit to mention that the government have conducted
themselves very prudently in not using any unconstitu-
tional remedies against these outrages : they have taken
prisoners all the rioters they could find, and mean to let
them have a fair trial by jury. We have just received
news» that at Bath they have been disturbed with the
same riots as broke out here: several Romish chapels
and houses have been burned ; but when this intelligence
was sent from thence, peace was pretty well restored.
This information is certainly authentic ; but the reports
we have of the same fury raging at York, at Bury, and in
other parts of the country, are, I hope, entirely ground-
less ; indeed, we have had so many false report^ that one
knows not what to believe. At one time it was said that
the rioters had broken into the Bank, at another that
they had attempted the Tower ; again, that Lord Peters*
house in the country was levelled with the ground, and
that he himself was murdered; in short, every tale of
horror to which the fears and the credulity of the people
could give birth and strength, was circulated with astonish-
ing rapidity throughout every part of the town.

It has been no small comfort to me, amidst all these
tumults, to reflect that you and my dear sister were far
removed from them. I could not turn my thoughts to
you, without agreeably contrasting in my mind the quiet
you enjoy at Lausanne, amidst all the riches of nature,
a fertile country, and a benignant climate, to the rage
and uproar that revelled among us, and set before us, in
the most shocking points of. view, the enormous vices
of some of our fellow-creatures, and the miseries and
afflictions of others. Not but that I was aware how far
the baneful influence of these disorders must have spread,
and that they must have occasioned some uneasy moments,
even at Lausanne. Nature did not form you to say with
the inhuman Lucretius,^

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gg LETTEBS TO Oct.

" Suave man magno, turbantibas equora ventis,
£ tend magnum alterius spectare laborem ;"

especially when those yon saw struggling with the tem-
pest were united to you by the tenderest bonds of love
and friendship. But how happy am I that I can tell you
(so fully is peace restored to us) that the tranquillity of
my beloved hermits need not hereafter be disturbed by
any melancholy reflections on the situation of afiPairs with
us! Enjoy then, my dear Roget, that repose so con-
genial to your disposition, and may it soon restore you to
perfect health.

Your affectionate brother,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter IV.

Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, Oct. 27, 1780.

Your inquiries after my health, as well as those of
my dear Kitty, are so frequent and so pressing, that they
seem to require of me a short history of my Indisposition ;
it shall be but short. I dignify it with the name of
history, because, as I am now very nearly, if not quite
recovered, nothing will be wanting to make it complete.
It begins, then, with the late riots. For several days
before they commenced, I had attended constantly at the
House of Lords to hear the debates, where one is obliged
to stand the whole time. This slight fatigue was in-
creased by being pressed in the crowds of the petitioners,
and still more by my sitting up three successive nights
when the confusion was greatest, and by running about
all day instead of taking rest or even giving my usual
application to study ; for I cannot boast the same com-
mand over myself with Archimedes, to wrap myself up
in meditation when my city is given up to be plundered.
After this, you will easily'imagine I was not in a condition
very proper for entering upon military discipline ; yet,
without refusing to join an association which I wished
ardently to see formed, and which I had warmly pro-
moted, I could not avoid it. Accordingly I began to
learn my exercise. The ardour of our association deter-

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^'^' THE WSV. JOHN R06ET. gg

mined them to indulge in no relaxation, but to exercise
every day, for two hours each day, without intermission •
and this, too, in very warm weather. The consequence
was, that after persevering for some time, I was obliged
to withdraw. Nor was 1 the only person who found the
fatigue too much. The cold bath, from frequent use,
was no longer a remedy. I was advised to try the sea!
I did BO, but unfortunately had a slight fever at the time ;
bathing increased it, and so much that I arrived in town
very ill. The care of my good friend. Dr. Watson, soon
delivered me from my fever; my strength returned by
degrees, and I am now so well recovered that I should
resume my regimentals, were it not that, most of our
association being out of town, our summer campaign is
at an end. My physician tells me, that I shall have better
health as I advance farther in life: so that, unlike most
men, I may regard the revolution of time and the ap-
proaches of old age, as desirable. The worst eflPect of my
illness has been to make me lose some time. My doctor
forbade me to look into any books but such as are merely
amusing. I followed this prescription at first ; but I had
soon the courage to disregard it, and found myself grow
much better by my disobedience.

There is great reason to presume that the character of
our new Parliament will not difPer materially from that
of its predecessor: for there are but 150 new members.
The greater number of the old members who have been
thrown out at this election are of the court party ; but
as the ministry always commanded such great majoritie^
one cannot thence conclude that the opposition have
gathered any strength. The most famous of those re-
jected members of the last Parliament is Burke. Though
he was thrown out at Bristol, he certainly might have
been elected for some borough ; but it seems he is re-
solved to retire altogether from public af&irs. To with-
draw his assistance from the public counsels at so difficult
and dangerous a crisis does not, in my opinion, admit of
any excuse ; even though one should make every allow-
ance for what a man of nice honour must feel under the
di^race of being rejected by his former constituents.

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200 LETTEBS TO Oct

and under the torrent of abuse which the newspapers
have long vomited forth against him. Surely, the nicest
sensibility to injury can never so disorder a man's judg-
ment, as to make him mistake the sordid traders of
Bristol, and venal gazetteers, for an ungrateful public.
But it is not in the dregs of modern patriotism that we
must look for a Phocion exhorting his son, as he drinks
off the poison to which he has been sentenced by an un-
grateful country, never to forget that even veneration of
his father's memory is a duty subordinate to love towards
his country.

/ '^I have lately read a pamphlet published by the Pro-
testant Association about a year ago, and entitled. An
Appeal to the People of Great Britain. Had I read it
before, and known how much it had been circulated
among the common people, I should not have been at a
/ loss to account for the violence of the petitioners' religious
zeal. It is extremely ill written ; the reasoning such as
' refutes itself; but the author addresses himself to the
passions of his readers in a strain of furious declamation,
well calculated to work up enthiisiasts to very madness.
He professes to favour toleration; but his book is such
an exhortation to revenge and persecution, as the days
of Charles the Ninth never, perhaps, produced. But
judge yourself whether I exaggerate. "Let us call to
remembrance," these are the very words of the appeal —
{ ''Let us call to remembrance the massacre at Paris;
there Popery appeared in its true colours, drunken with
the blood of the saints and toith the blood qf the martyrs
of Jesus. Whilst Popery has existence upon earth, let it
be remembered, though, to the disgrace of humanity, let
it be remembered with [horror, that on Saint Bartho-
lomew's Day thousands and tens of thousands of Pro-
testants were murdered in France in cold blood. Smith-
field, Oxford, Cambridge, and many other places have a
f voice crying aloud * Beware of Popery.* O Britons I let
not the blood of the martyrs be forgotten, or their sufier-
ings effaced from our memories, or from those of our
children to the .atest posterity. Are there none living iit
these days whose ancestors suffered by the unparalleled

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1780. THE SEV. JOHN R06ET. J^QJ^

massacre of Ireland ?" Is not this dictated by the vindic-
tive spirit which animates the war-song of the American
savages ? Do you remember that inserted in Dr. Robert-
son's History of America ^— ** The bones of our country-
men lie uncovered ; their bloody bed has not been washed
clean ; their spirits cry against us. Let us go and devour
the people by whom they were slain. Lift the hatchet ;
console the dead ; tell them that they shall be avenged."
They certainly will bear comparison ; and so far it is to
the advantage of the savage, that he honestly owns him-
self to be actuated by a principle of revenge, while the
pious Protestant affects to have at heart the good of
mankind and the glory of God. He has not omitted the
aiigument of all persecutors, that they seek the happiness
of those they persecute. ** To tolerate Popery," he says,
"is to be instrumental to the perdition of immortal
souls now existing, and of millions of spirits that at pre-
sent have no existence but in the prescience of God, and
is the direct way to provoke the vengeance of an holy
and jealous Grod, to bring down destruction on our fleets
and armies." So that, according to the arguments of this
wretch, persecution is a religious duty I

Adieu ; believe me to be, &c.

Saml. Rohilly.

Letter V.

Gny*8 Inn, Dee. 19, 1780.

You ask me, my dear sister, if the circle of my
friends is as small as ever. Yes, to the full ; less I should
rather say. All the few friends I had here two years ago are
now scattered in different parts of the earth. Yourselves
banished to the distance of above six hundred miles ;
Greenway, always in camp, or in winter quarters, does not
pass a month in town in the whole year ; Joseph Garnault,
in China ; and even Appia, (with whom you know I had
contracted some intimacy,) at Petersburgh. My brother
and our dear Jane are all I have left to console me for
being separated from you : with them I dine almost every
day, and frequently pass my evenings. New acquaintance

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IQ2 LETTESS TO Dee.

I have none ; hoir, indeed, should I make them, since I
am stil] as backward to introduce myself into company as
ever ? One acquaintance, it is true, I have made since
you were in England ; a friend I ought to say, if to take
the greatest interest in my concerns, and to load me with
unaffected civilities, can give a claim to that title. I mean
Mr. Spranger, a name, I believe, perfectly new to you.
He is a counsellor, under whom I have studied almost ever
since you quitted England. Mrs. Spranger is one of the
most amiable women I know ; not very young, indeed, for
she has four children, but still handsome, and possessing'
the most engaging manners. At their house, where I fre-
quently dine or sup (though less often than I am pressed
to do), I meet a good deal of company, which, consisting'
mostly of men of sense and education, is very agreeable.
But the most engaging society, that, my dear Catherine,;
of your amiable sex, I seldom enjoy, for I am hardly ever
of their card parties ; besides that, it is not at a whist table*
that your sex appears in its native charms. With so
small an acquaintance, you will easily conceive that I seek
for amusement in my studies, and there I am never dis-
appointed. My rooms are exceedingly lively, and capable
of themselves to secure me from indulging in melancholy,
so that you may discard those apprehensions which I per-
suade myself I discover under your inquiries. In the
depth of winter, the moment the sun peeps out, I am in
the country. ' A cold country indeed it is ; for, having only
one row of houses between me and Highgate and Hamp*
stead, a north-west wind (sharp as your piercing bise)
blows full against my chambers : fortunately I am shel-
tered from the north-east. What renders my chambers
very comfortable is a tolerable collection of books, which,
I confess, somewhat extravagantly, I have lately purchased.
Thus far to my dear sister ; and now, without taking leave
of her, to her husband.

Alas 1 my dear Roget, you quite despair, then, of re-
turning to England. For myself, I cannot yet resign that
hope. So much, indeed, is niy happiness attached to it,
I must be cruel to myself were I forward to give it up.
As to yoiur little boy, if you should be resolved to ha\e

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1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. X03

him over in the spring, be assured that, thinking every
other concern of less importance than your happiness, I
shall not hesitate, whatever may be my employments, to
quit them all, and to be the bearer of joy and comfort to
my dear friends. But at the same time I am forced to add
that, should you (as I hope you will) alter your intention
of having him sent to you, or should there be any other
means of sending him with safety, you must not think of
seeing me. It can hardly be necessary to dwell upon my
reasons for denying myself the happiness such a jomrney
would afford me. Having so much to do before I can be
qualified for the employment I have chosen, and so short
a time in which to do it, all my moments are precious ;
they are now, indeed, become still more so, by reason of
the time which I was obliged to lose during my illness in
the summer. Were I actuated by the bad ambition of
gaining honours or of winning applause, this would be but
a poor apology for being remiss in the duties of friend-
ship ; but with you I need not enforce the necessity of
fulfilling the prior duties one owes to one's country, and
unless I much mistake the intention of my heart, my
greatest ambition is " patriie impendere vitam»**

What do you think of Arnold's conduct ? You may
well suppose he does not want advocates here. I cannot
join with them. If he thought the Americans not justi-
fied in continuing the war, after the offer of such favour-
able terms as the commissioners held out to them, why did
he keep his command for two years afterwards ? In my
opinion, they must be very extraordinary circumstances
indeed which can warrant a man's bearing arms in a civil
war on opposite sides. Arnold will certainly, from his
knowledge of the people and the country, prove a very
useful man. He has published a proclamation, inviting
the Americans to enlist under his standard, for Clinton
has empowered him to raise a regiment for the service of
the King. It abounds with invectives against France and
the Congress, and what seems to me to come less from
the heart, with high professions of zeal to serve his coun-
try and assert its liberties. One word in this procrlama-
tion I think very remarkable. He says that the Americans

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104 LETTERS TO ]>eo*

might have been 8]>ared the calamities which they have
suffered for these two last years if, as prudently as the
Irish, they had accepted of the liberality of Great Britain.
Either the Americans were, at first, contending for their
rights, or they were not ; if they were, it was not liberality*
it was but strict justice in us to acknowledge those rights*
— a piece of justice not very meritorious in us, since we
were forced into it. If, on the other hand, what they
contended for was not their undoubted right, but an usur-
pation they sought to make upon the parent country, the
war on the side of the colonies was, from the first, rebellion,
and Arnold a traitor. My brother says the word may
have been inserted inadvertently. What 1 a word on
which so much depends : and in a solemn proclamation !
But Arnold, they say, may in truth have discovered his
error ; he may now think that the Americans were wrong
from the beginning. But, admitting this, surely the dis-
covery of an error so fatal, and which has been attended
with such an effusion of blood, should have left an honest
man no inclination to form new schemes of ambition, and
to embark with as much alacrity as ever in new enter-
prises, where I see no reason why he may not be as much
mistaken as before.

The Congress, to justify their generals in the severity
eiercised over Major Andr6, who, as he was returning
from concerting measures with Arnold, was taken and
hanged, have published a very long account of that affair,
with all the letters that passed between the generals upon
the occasion. Major Andre's case was laid before aboard
consisting of fourteen field-officers, and it was their
unanimous opinion that he ought to suffer death ; but
they gave no other reasons for their sentence than that
it was conformable to the rules of war. The arguments
used by Clinton and Arnold in their letters to Washington,
to prove that Andr6 could not be considered as a spy, are,
first, that he had with him, when he was taken, a protec-
tion of Arnold's, who was at that time acting under a
commission of the Congress, and, therefore, competent to
give protections. Certainly he was, to all strangers to his
negotiation with Clinton, but not to Andr6, who knew

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ITSe. THE REV. JOHN KOGET. 105

him to be at that time a traitor to the Congress ; nay more,
whose protection was granted for no other purpose but to
promote and give effect to his treachery. In the second
place, they say that, at the time he was taken, he was
upon neutral ground ; but then they do not deny that he
had been within the American lines in disguise. The
letters written by Andr6 himself, show a firm, cool intre-
pidity, worthy a more glorious end. Writing to General
Clinton, he requests that his mother and sister may have
the sale of his commission ; as for himself, he says, he is
** perfectly tranquil in mind, and prepared for any fate to
which an honest zeal for the King's service may have de-
voted '• him. There is another short note which he wrote
to Washington the day before his execution ; it concludes
with these words : " Let me hope, sir, if aught in my cha-
racter impresses you with esteem towards me, if aught in
my misfortunes marks me as the victim of policy and not
of resentment, I shall experience the operation of these
feelings in your breast by being informed that I am not
to die on a gibbet,** "But," say the Congress, **the
practice and usage of war were against his request, and
made the indulgence he solicited inadmissible." The
fate of this unfortunate young man, and the manly style
of his letters, have raised more compassion here than the
loss of thousands in battle, and have excited a warmer
indignation against the Americans than any former act of
the Congress. When the passions of men are so deeply
affected, you will not expect to find them keep within the
bounds of reason. Panegyrics on the gallant Andr6 are
unbounded ; they call him the English Mutius, and talk
of erecting monuments to his memory. Certainly no man
in his situation could have behaved with more determined
courage ; but his situation was by no means such as to
admit of these exaggerated praises. Arnold, in his letter
to the Americans, charges the Congress with having reject-
ed the offers of the English commissioners by their own
authority, and without ever consulting the different Pro-
vinces. This, if true, was a very bold step indeed ; but it
may be said, that if the Provinces have re-elected the
same members to represent them in Congress, they have

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IQ5 LETTBBS to Jan.

tacitly confirmed all their former measures ; bat whether
the fact is so I cannot tell.

Burke has lately published the speech he made to the
people of Bristol, in which he had the courage not only
to vindicate the act for the toleration of the Roman
Catholics, but to give it the highest encomiums. He
concludes a very noble panegyric on Sir George Savile,
by saying, that one of the actions which in his whole life
does him the greatest honour, is his having been the man
who brought so just and wise a bill into Parliament.
Your friend and affectionate brother,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter VI.
Dear Roget, ^^^'» inn»^«* ^» "«i-

Use has not at all lightened your loss to me. After an
absence of eighteen months, I still regret as much as ever
that I am debarred the happiness of your conversation.
In my studies I miss you yet more : I long to consult you
upon what I read, and to read over to you and take your
opinion on what I write. I have lately learned Italian :
do not censure me for such a waste of time. I began to
apply myself to it when I was ill, and was forbidden
any severer studies ; and so easy a language is it, that I
soon began to read its prose writers with pleasure. I
have just read Machiavel's famous book, Del Principe.
Had Caesar Borgia, his hero, been as successful as he was
cruel and profligate, he would have been exactly the un-
just man, stained and polluted with every vice, whom
Plato, in his Republic^ proves to be miserable in the midst
of his prosperity, and to whom he opposes his just man,
despised and persecuted. Though, in the end, his crimes
availed not this monster, M achiavel does not scruple to
propose him as a model for the imitation of princes ; and
seems to lament that his great talents could not give him
the disposal of events. The picture this Italian politician
gives of human nature is the blackest that ever was
painted; but it seems probable that he never travelled
out of his native country ; and though his acute penetra-

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1781. THE REV. JOHNBOOET. IQ)

tion may have given him a fall insight into the character
of his countrymen, he was assuredly but ill acquainted
with human nature in general. When he says that men
are by nature hypocrites and cowards, ungrateful and ra-
pacious, this may possibly be as exact a copy of the
manners of Italy, in an age just emerging from barbarism,
as his gloomy imagination could trace ; but for a repre*
sentation of the human specdes, how false and prepos-
terous is it I ** Princes,** he says, ** are not to be bound by
promises and oaths, for all men are perfidious ; and were
monarchs alone observant of their faith, they would find
themselves the dupes of their own ridiculous scruples,"*
He is thefirst writer, perhaps, who, regarding mankind with
the eyes of a sullen misanthrope, has expressed no indigna-
tion at what he saw, and seemed well contented that
things should remain as they were. Seeing men in the
odious light in which he represents them, Machiavel
could not but have conceived a deadly hatred against
them ; and, if so, his book seems to me no longer a pro-
digy : for in this institute of a tyrant, he has, consistently
with that hatred, set himself to arm with force, and with
every destructive art, the most cruel scourge of mankind.
The author of the Anti-Machictvel, published by Voltaire,
seems to have formed his opinion of the Human heart
from the manners of France, as much as Machiavel did
from those of Italy. Machiavel says, that no oppression
of a prince will so soon draw on him the hatred of his
subjects, as to rob them of their property or wives ; for
these are wrongs which raise a more implacable resent-
ment than the murder of a father. The Anti-Machiavelian,
falling into the opposite extreme, says, that such gallantry,
using that fashionable phrase of the language he writes
in, never renders a prince odious. The story of Liicretia,
indeed, stands a little in his way ; but he dexterously
removes that obstacle by supposing the whole story a
romance, — a convenient mode this of getting rid of the
great examples of ancient virtue, where they obstruct a
modern system or remain a reproach to modern depravity.

^ Principe, chap. 18.

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\Qg LETTERS TO Jan. '

Without doubt, you have had some account of the
dreadful hurricane and earthquake in the West Indies ;
but not, I imagine, such particular relations as we have
had here. They exceed in horror anything; I ever read of.
Wherever the storm directed its coiirse, it was attended
with desolation and death. The letters from the in-
habitants of Bridgetown, in Barbadoes, contain descrip-
tions of the night they passed, when the storm was at its
worst, which are horrible beyond conception. To the-
howling of the tempest was added the noise of the houses
falling on every side, and of the shrieks and groans of the
inhabitants who were crushed by their ruins, — ^this, too,
in a night impenetrably dark, interrupted only by sudden
gleams of lightning, which discovered imperfectly the
havoc suffered in every quarter. The return of light, which
had been so long and so fervently prayed for, brought
no abatement of the storm ; and only served to display the
most dreary prospect that the imagination can devise :
what was, the preceding evening, a well-built populous
town, was now a vast heap of ruins, interspersed with the
bodies of the dying and the dead. Those who have es-
caped this calamity find themselves only reserved for
greater misfortunes : reduced from afiluence to beggary,
without any shelter to protect them from the inclemency
of the weather, and with all the horrors of a famine
staring them in the face ; for the devastation has been so
universal, that they say it will scarce be possible to avert
that dreadful evil. It is hardly credible, but the same
letters declare it to be a fact, that, 'in the midst of this
shocking scene, numbers of the negroes were employed in
pillaging the houses. Great allowances are certainly to
be made for a race of men so oppressed and trampled on,
in any vengeance they take upon their oppressors ; but
one would think no human being had a heart so hardened,
either by natural stupidity or by the longest course of op-
pression, as not to be melted or appalled at so awful' a
spectacle.

Jan. 5. — I intended, you see, to send this letter by the
last post, but I was unluckily prevented from finishing it in
time. I have since received yours of the 16th December.

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1781. THE REV. JOHN BOOET. JQg

You profess yourself unequal to the task of criticising
Rousseau ; what presumption would it then be in me to
undertake it f I have lately read a great part of his works.
It astonishes me that I should not formerly have been
more struck with the merits of the Emile. '* M on cceur
a b6ni cent fois pendant cette lecture Thomme yertueux
et ferme qui ose ainsi instruire les humains." I sincerely
lament with you that he abandoned the plan he had
formed for its continuation. I am much surprised that
any one should ever have questioned his speaking his real
sentiments, in his Discourse upon the Arts. Surely
never had any piece of oratory the marks of coming warm
from the heart, if that has not. Some parts of the Lettrea
Scriies de la Montagne, and that addressed to the Arch-
bishop of Paris, to me appear superior, for forcible rea-
soning and a strain of irresistible eloquence, to any
modern production I ever read. Had I the arrogance to
judge of originals, some of which I know but from trans-
lations, I should possibly give to some passages of Rous-
seau the preference over the great masterpieces of anti-
quity. At least, after reading Rousseau, I am inclined to
confess that, after all, my favourite Cicero ** n*6tait qu*un
avocat." Among other of his writings, one I had never
heard of, a Letter addressed to Voltaire, on the subject of
his Poem on the Earthquake at Lisbon*, has given me
great pleasure. Do you recollect it? It is in that he
makes the very just distinction, that we should not say
••tout est bien,*' but •* le tout est bien."

Yours, &c.

Sam L. RoMiLLY.

Letter VIL

Dear Roget, Ony's inn. Feb. 9, 1781.

It was not till last Monday that I received your
letter of the 13th of last month, in which you paint in
such strong colours the very alarming occurrences which
have lately happened at Geneva. It will be needless to

* The date of this letter is Ang. 18, 1756.

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I ^Q LETTERS TO Feb.

trouble you with any reflections on that subject ; though
you must think they could hardly fail of presenting them-
selves to me in abundance upon reading your letter. Let
me particularly beg of you not to fail to inform me of
every event of any importance, which may happen in con-
sequence of what I am already acquainted with.

The Dutch have not' yet published their counter-mani-
festo: we wait with impatience to hear how they will
justify their conduct : they have some very able defenders
here. Having lately heard a debate in the House of Lords
upon the Dutch war, which lasted seven hours, you must
needs think I am pretty well master of the arguments on
both sides of the question. The substance, or rather the
heads of them, I will state to you as concisely as I can.
The Ministry represented Jthe conduct of the Dutch, ever
since the breaking out of the war with America and
France, to have been, in the last degree, injurious and
faithless to England. Mention was inade of their sup-
plying the enemy with stores, contrary to the treaty
subsisting between them and us ; of their giving refuge to
American privateers, not only at St. Eustatius, but even in
the Texel. and refusing to surrender them up to our
ambassador ; of their denying us the succours they were
by treaty bound to furnish ; and, lastly, of their having
actually signed a treaty with our subjects in open rebellion
against us, nay, of their having assented to American
Independence almost as early as France, for the treaty
bears date September, 1778. On the other hand, the
conduct of Great Britain towards the Dutch was repre-
sented to have been in every respect friendly, moderate,
and even indulgent ; we did not persist in our demands
of having Paul Jones delivered up to us ; we suffered
them for a long time to carry on an illicit commerce with
our enemies ; and, when we were at last obliged to stop
their ships, we scrupulously paid them for all their
cargoes, and indemnified them from loss. We did not
so much as demand the stipulated succours, to which we
had an undeniable right, till our coast was threatened
with an invasion; and even now, when fortune has
thrown into our hands their secret treaty with America,

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178L THE KEV. JOHN ROGITr. m

we have still left them room to repair their fault, by only
demanding that the pensionary Van Berkel, who had
signed it, may be punished. So much for the justice of
the war.

As to its expediency, they say it is now clear that the
Dutch are secretly our enemies. It is, then, prudent in
us to strip them of their disguise, and force them to meet
us face to face ; as open enemies, they cannot do us more
prejudice than they have already done as false friends.
St. Eustatius has been the continual source which has
supplied vigour to the Americans. Had some violent
convulsion in nature sunk that island in the sea, before
the breaking out of the war, America must long since
have submitted -to our arms. The Dutch were, once,
powerful as a maritime state, it is true ; but ships are
now constructed in so different a manner, and lie so much
deeper in the water than they did formerly, that their
harbours are totally incapable of containing any formida-
ble fleet. They are a people naturally averse to war, and
fond of that peace and security by which alone commerce,
their great idol, can thrive. This innate disposition has
been nourished by the torpor of a century, passed in ease
and quiet As they are thus indisposed, so are they
wholly unprepared for war ; their possessions are every-
where open and exposed to an enemy : St. Eustatius, the
Cape of Good Hope, the Isle of Ceylon, the Spice Islands,
in short, all their distant possessions, are in a state to
invite invaders. One vigorous blow will strike an alarm
through all the States ; will open the eyes of the better
part of the nation, and rouse them to shake off the yoke
of that French faction, which has gained so entire an
ascendant over them as to make them forgetful of their
fsuth, and blind to their true interests.

The Opposition, on the other hand, contend: First,
That the war is unjust. The Dutch, they say, are, by the
now subsisting treaty, allowed to furnish our enemies
with stores. They are, as everybody knows, so rapacious
of gain, that they have supplied even their own enemies
with stores, particularly in a very memorable instance,
the siege of Bergen-op-Zoom ; and how can we then

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112 LETTERS TO Feb.

expect they will do for us what they will not do for them-
selves ? The pretended treaty which has been found is,
in fact, no treaty; it is only a rough draft; it purports
to be no more, for its initial words are, " We agree upon
this as the proper plan for a treaty," &c. Our demand
of punishment on Van Berkel is insolent, ridiculous, and
illegal. How is he punishable ? by what law ? Suppose
an Englishman, some years ago, had, in his cabinet,
drawn up a treaty with Corsica, or that he had actually
agreed upon terms with some Corsican chief, and the
French had demanded punishment on him ; should we
have inflicted it? or rather could we? Our demand to
the States is not unlike that of the Czar Peter, who, when
an ambassador of his was arrested in London for debt,
demanded the heads of the persons concerned in the
arrest I

Secondly, As the war is unjust, so is it inexpedient
and rash. War is at all times an evil ; what then must it
be to a nation already engaged in hostilities with three of
the greatest powers in the world, sinking under the
enormous weight of its debt, with all its resources ex-
hausted ;— a war against our natural ally, whose interests
are inseparable from ours ? What though they have been
long lulled in peace; their indefatigable industry will
shortly put them in a state, not merely of defence, but of
annoyance. The severest blows our naval power ever
sustained were from the Hollanders. The names of Van
Tromp and De Ruyter are still dreadful. Who knows
how soon the rashness of our councils may raise up other
commanders as formidable ? We talk of the weakness of
the Dutch settlements, but we forget the condition of our
own ; that our oppressions in the East Indies have made
for us there as many enemies as there are natives ; that
we are already engaged in war with the fierce Marattoes ;
that discord and enmity rage among the servants of the
Company, particularly at Bengal, where all is anarchy. A
war with Holland must be a war with all the powers of
Europe; for as the Dutch have acceded to the armed
neutrality, there can be no doubt that all the neutral
powers will make theirs a common cause.

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1781. THE REV. X>HN BOOST. X 1 3

I leave you, my dear Roget, to determine on which
side the arguments preponderate. However weighty the
arguments of Opposition, it must he confessed they come
with a had grace from men who have so often hlamed the
timidity of the Ministry. Our circumstances, you will
say, have greatly changed, and it would he madness in us
to hold the same language now, which, a few years since,
would have heen moderate and reasonahle; but it was
only last summer, at a moment the most alarming we
have ever known, when great part of London lay in ashes,
and rebellion and civil war seemed at our very doors, that
the Duke of Richmond reproached the Ministry in the
severest terms for not proceeding rigorously to punish a
Russian, who was said to have been concerned in burning
the chapels. The Duke was then for despising the
Russians, and the armed neutrality. No matter what the
consequences. " Fiat justitia et mat coelum.'*

I must now conclude by informing you of the death of
Mrs. Facquier.* You know too well the great obligations
we have to her, and were yourself too well acquainted
with her excellent disposition, not to conceive how much
we all should feel her loss, were it not lightened by the
consideration that her death is a deliverance from a pain-
ful existence. Considering what she has gone through
for many years past, one cannot call it a cessation of life,
but the conclusion of a lingering death ; " non erepta
vita sed donata mors est" She expired, free from all
paui, in a state of composure and tranquillity which could
hardly be expected after what she so long had suffered.
Though she had never any apprehension of quitting
this life, (for it had proved to her a state of too severe
probation for her to be attached to it, nor could a life of
such piety and charity leave her any dread of futurity,)
yet having so often experienced [such sharp pain from
disease, she always expressed some fear of what she might
suffer at the moment of dissolution ; but her death was
like sleep. So true is it that half the terrors of death are
of our own creation. Adieu. Yours most affectionately,

Saml. Romilly.
^ See ante, p. 7.

TOL. I. I

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1 1^ LETTBBS TO Kuoh,

Letter VIII.

Oray's Inn. March 27, 1781..

When I have told you, my dear Roget, that your
little boy and all your friends here are in perfect health,
I have concluded all the most interestmg intelligence I
have to send you, and must have recourse to public news
to fill my letter. I might, indeed, indulge myself with
planning schemes of future felicity: the probability of
our seeing each other next summer in Switzerland
already affords me the dream of a transient happiness ;
but of happiness it becomes us to be economists.

Little business of consequence has come on lately in
our Parliament; the Lords have scarcely any debates;
the Duke of Richmond, Lord Shelburne, and Lord Cam-
den never attend. In the Commons, some unsuccessful
attempts have been made to curb that system of corrup-
tion which is the bane of our constitution. One was a
Bill against contractors sitting in Parliament ; the same
Bill which last year passed the Commons, and was thrown
out by the Lords. The debate was short ; for the majority
were so confident of victory, and so vociferous for the
question, that few deigned to speak on one side of the
House, or were permitted on the other. One argument
used against the Bill was, that it was unjust and cruel to
suppose that members of Parliament would be induced
to vote against their conscience by the hope of being
favoured with lucrative contracts ; as if men of honour
and fortune would prefer their own interests to those of
their country. Another objection was, that the Bill
would, in its effects, prove an exclusion of merchants
from Parliament You observe how these arguments
destroy one another. If these contractors are so disin-
terested as to prefer the public to their own private goodt
they will sooner resign the advantage to be made by con-
tracts than quit the service of their country in Parlia*
ment ; consequently, the Act will not operate as an exclu-
sion. If, on the contrary, preferring an increase of their
private fortunes to the honour and satisfaction of pro-

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1781. THE REV. JOHN ROOET. 115

moting the public good, they keep their contracts and
resign their seats, it necessarily follows that they are not
men who have the welfare of their country at heart, not
men who can safely be entrusted with the rights of their
fellow-citizens and the interests of their country. Ano-
ther Bill, which has been thrown out by the House of
Commons, was for disqualifying officers, employed in the
collection of the Excise and Customs, to vote at elections
of members of Parliament. The opposers of this Bill
dared to profane the name of Liberty by saying that the
Bill was destructive of it, and that it would rob a very
large class of men of their dearest privilege; though
they well know that this dear privilege is a hateful burden
to ^1 but those who are dishonest enough to make a profit
of it : that the rest, threatened with the loss of their places
if they vote against the court, find themselves, at every
election, reduced to the dDemma of choosing between a
sacrifice of fortune or of conscience.

The conduct of the English judges in India is become :
a matter of public inquiry by a committee of the House, .
of Commons, in consequence of petitions which have been
presented to the King and the Parliament from the
British inhabitants, and from the Gentoos and Mahom- -
medans in India, complaining of great injustice and op-
pression in the administration of justice. But, before t
proceed, it maybe proper to remind you that this English
court of justice was established in the year 1773, and that
the Act, under which it was erected, confines its jurisdic-
tion to British inhabitants and natives in the service of
the Company. Our countrymen complain that they are
refused the trial by jury in civil causes; that the judges
have, in many particular cases, acted partially and illegally ;
that they have denied Magna Charta to have force in
India, &c. &c. But the wrongs of the natives are much
more insupportable. The judges, in order to extend their
authority, have given to the Act of Parliament the most
literal, rigid, unfair construction ; for example, all per-
sons who rent farms of the Company are, they say, ser-
vants of the Company, and therefore, by the letter of the
Act, subject to the English court of justice* By such

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2X6 LETTEllS TO Mairch,

means, multitudes of Indians are brought under the
English law; that is, a complicated system of law, so
voluminous that years of study are requisite to enable
even Englishmen to acquire a knowledge of it, is at once
transplanted into a country whose inhabitants are stran-
gers even to the language in which it is written. The
arbitrary institutions of a commercial republic, in which
all men are equal, are made the laws of a despotic empu'e,
where distinctions between every different class of men
are religiously observed, and where such distinctions are
even become necessary to subordination and government.
In a word, a law is given them which clashes with their
own law and their own religion, and shocks their manners
and prejudices in a thousand instances. But, indepen-
dently of the laws themselves, they detest the practice of
our courts, our pleadings and mode of trial, as founded
in absurdity and injustice. Why, they ask, must we em-
ploy an attorney to prosectite our suits? How is it to be
conceived that another man, a stranger, whose acquaint-
ance we must seek for the purpose, will defend our
cause as zealously as we should ourselves ? Money can
be the only inducement for his becoming our friend ; bo
that our adversary has but to offer a higher bribe, for this
mercenary friend to sell his friendship again and to
betray our cause. The monstrous expense, the perpetual
delays, and enormous length of your proceedings ruin us
before our cause is heard ; and, after all, when it comes
to a hearing, ignorant of your language, we remain
strangers to what passes in court, to the rules of your
decisions, to every thing, in short, but the sentence we
are to undergo and the fees we are to pay.

Though it was scarcely possible to reconcile the Indians
to the novelty of oiu: laws and the practice of our courts,
however cautiously and gradually it might have been
attempted, yet by prudent conduct the yoke might have
been made to feel less galling at first ; but our judges seem
to have sought to aggravate its weight. They were at-
tended to India by a swarm of desperate adventurers,
debtors, and bankrupts, who went to repair their ruined
fortunes by the plunder which was to be made under

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1781. THE RBV. JOHN ROOET. '117

sanction of the law. These wretches, upon their arrival
tt Calcutta, assumed the character of attorneys, officers of
the court, servants of the judges, &c. &c. ; and are de-
scrihed to have spread themselves over the fertile pro-
vinces of fiengal, fiahar, and Orissa, like the locusts over
Egypt, carrying with them ruin and desolation ; hreathing
a spirit of discord and litigation wherever itey went;
opening public shops to supply a redress for every
imagined wrong, or rather to gratify the malevolence and
resentment of every restless and revengeful spirit ; insti-
gating slaves to bring actions of assault against their
masters, and culprits to recover on the judges of the
country for false imprisonment, and reviving causes which
had long been terminated ; for, what seems incredible, the
judges gave the law a retrospective force, and property
was disposed of, and crimes ac^udged and punished, by po-
sitive laws, which were not in being, in that country, at
the time of the transactions. The confusion that followed
from all this is hardly to be conceived. On the principle
that all men are equal, writs were issued out indiscrimi-
nately against persons of every description, no matter what
their sex, rank, or consideration in the country. Gentoos,
who think themselves polluted by the touch of any but
those of their own particular sect, were personally arrested,
thrown into a common dungeon with malefactors of every
description, and there left with the alternative either of
perishing with hunger, or offending against their religion
by eating of food prepared by profane hands. The harams,
the apartments of the females, which are held sacred in
that country, and which it is profane in any male to ap-
proach, were violently forced open by bailiff and the
bodies of the women arrested ; an indignity which they
complain of as more cruel than death itself. Judges were
seized in the administration of justice, and torn, with cir-
cumstances of contempt, from their tribunals in the sight of
the prisoners they were trying. The administration of
justice was at a stand ; murders were committed with im-
punity; and the country judges refused to punish the
murderers, lest they should draw down on themselves the
severity of our Supreme Court by some error in their pro-
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215 LETTEBS TO April*

ceedings, or by interfering with the English jurisdiction.
The petition of the Gentoos concludes in these words, ** If
(which God forbid !) it should so happen that this our pe-
tition should not be accepted, those amongst us who have
power and ability, discarding all affections to our families,
will fly to any quarter we can : whilst the remainder who
have no m^ns or ability, giving themselves up with pious
resignation to their evil fate, will sit down in expectation
of their death. After this, let the soil of the country re-
main, and the court of justice ! Let the court of justice
remain upon the earth, or the earth cover it !" Though
I have read a great many of the papers and publications
upon this subject, yet, as I have not seen any thing written
in defence of the judges, I ought to suspend my judgment
upon their conduct]; but with very great allowances for
exaggeration and misrepresentation, they still seem very
guilty.
I must now take my leave of you.

Your affectionate brother,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter IX.

Gray's Inn, April 4, 1781.

It gave me great pain, my dear Roget, to find
you in your last letter speak in so disconsolate a manner
of life, as if you had lost all relish for any of its enjoyments.
I own I did not expect it ; for, though I am sure no one
has felt your afflictions more sensibly than I, yet I have
often pleased myself with thinking that your life was not
destitute of enjoyment ; for, knowing that ambition and
the tumultuous pleasures of the world never had charms
fdr you, I confess I thought I still saw room for many
happy hom's in a life of quiet and obscurity, with the
company of a few friends and our dear Catherine for the
partner of your exile ; above all, in the prospect of educat-
ing your son. I know that the purest intellectual plea-
sures are poisoned by bodily pain ; but you have flattered
us, or you are free from that evil. You speak of your life

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1781. THE BJSV. JOHK BOGET. X ^Q

as precarious; but who is ccrtaiu of existence till to-mor«
TOW ? and what thinking being would have the idea of
death less present to his mind than you say it is to yours ?
You know, my dear Roget, how we always exaggerate to
ourselves our past happiness and our present misery : so
much, that were we to live over again some of the most
envied moments of our past life, we should be surprised
to find that that happiness which, seen through the delu-
sive medium of time, appeared with so many charms, was,
in reality, possessed of so few ; and yet it is by comparisons
with this distant magnified happiness that we add to the
bitterness of all our present sorrows.

You ask me how I spend my time : in a manner so uni-
formly the same, that a journal of one day is a journal of
all. At six o'clock, or sooner, I rise; go into the cold
bath ; walk to Islington to drink a chalybeate water (from
which I have found great benefit), return and write or
read till ten ; then dress and go to Mr. Spranger's, where
1 study till three ; dine in Frith Street, and afterwards re-
turn to Mr. Spranger's, where I remain till nine, or else
stay in Frith Street, and read with my brother and Jane.
This is the history of every day, with little other variation
than that Of my frequently attending the courts of jus-
tice in the morning, instead of going to Mr. Spranger's,
and of my often passing my afternoons at one of the
Houses of Parliament ; for I have lately been so fortunate
as to find the means of gsdning admittance to both Houses
whenever I choose. Indeed I am grown as great a poli-
tician as Appia was, though it is not mine, as it was his,
favourite topic of conversation. " Peace is my dear de-
light," and peace and our politics are incompatible. My
father is still as warm an advocate as ever for the Minis-
try*, and I as deeply affected as ever with the miseries
and disgrace they have brought upon my country. The
moment the conversation turns upon public afBEiirs, I im-
pose it upon myself as a law not to take part ; and yet I
am often weak enough to let the subject carry me away
by degrees, in which case our conversation never ends

^ The administzation of Lord North.

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120 LETTERS TO April,

without my sincerely repenting, and reproaching myself
with want of firmness in not keeping my resolution. Mr.
Spranger is as warm a friend of the opposition as my
father of the court ; too warm a friend for me to concur
with him ; for, though I helieve many of the minority to he
as disinterested and truly patriotic as any men in the king-
dom, yet some of the leaders of the party are such, that
one must he prejudiced to hlindness, not to see that their
only view is to raise themselves upon the ruins of the
party they oppose. At Mr. Spranger's I pass for a minis-
terialist, and at home for a patriot — an epithet not very
honourahle in the sense in which it is used.

As for political news, we have none, except that the mi-
nority are very angry with Lord North for the terms
upon which he has made the loan this year, and for his
distribution of it among the subscribers. I should not be
very intelligible, I fear, if I were to endeavour to explain
what those terms were ; suflSce it to say, that they were
so advantageous to the subscribers, and consequently so
disadvantageous to the public, that the next daysiter
they were declared, they bore a premium of 10 per cent,
and have remained ever since at a premium of between
10 and 7 per cent. The distribution is complained of as
having been made to none but the friends of the Ministry
and a very great part of it to Members of Parliament,
who are thus bribed with the public money to betray the
public, and whose interest it thus becomes to ratify the
most improvident bargain a minister can make, when
they themselves share the spoil. Tliey are not the
guardians of the people, but the usurers who profit by
their prodigality.

Adieu ; believe me to remain, my dear Roget, your
warm friend and affectionate brother,

Saml. Romilly.

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1781. THE REV. JOHN ROOET. 221

Lbttek X.
Dear Roget, May 22. i78i.

The conduct of Rodney and Vaughan in confiscating
all the property at St. Eustatius, has lately been brought
before the House of Commons by Burke. As his motion,
though it was only for papers necessary for an inquiry
into that transaction, led to a censure upon the Ministry,
if the orders of confiscation were sent from hence, and if
not to a censure upon Rodney and Vaughan, you will not
be surprised that it was rejected, though it was supported
by very strong arguments, at least in my opinion ; but
you shall judge for yourself. It was admitted, that to
confiscate all the property of a place taken in war is con-
trary to the law of nations observed by all civilized states,
and particularly as that law is laid down by Vattel, the
last writer of authority upon the subject. But then it is
said, a distinction is to be made between a people openly
at war with you, and one who, like the Dutch, have per-
fidiously violated their treaties, and secretly supplied your
enemy with succours. The answer to this is : their per-
fidy was the cause of our declaring war, but, war being
once begun, we must conform to the rules of warfare
established in Europe ; and it is a principle laid down by
every writer on the law of nations, that each state at war
must be presumed to have justice on her side. Besides,
it is impossible to punish the perfidy of a nation by se-
verity in carrying on war against it ; for the only effect
of such severity would be to draw retaliations from the
enemy, and finally to establish a more cruel law of nations
than what now prevails. But then it is said, St. Eusta-
tius is not a settiement ; it ought not to be compared to
Grenada, or any other conquered island ; it is nothing but
a depdt or magazine. But how does this alter the case?
The only question is, whether, in a place which has sur-
rendered at discretion and without resbtance, the private
property of individuals is liable to confiscation. Lord
George Germaine ^ said, that the orders sent from home
^ Secretary of State for the Colonies.

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J 22 LETTERS TO May,

were, that the property of the inhabitants established in
the island should not be touched. But this is a reason
for going into an inquiry ; for if it be true, Rodney is
highly criminal in having departed from his orders, and
that to commit an act of the most wanton injustice.
With respect to the Jews, it was said that the orders that
were given for transporting them, were given unknown
to the Commander-in-Chief, and that they were counter-
manded the moment they came to his knowledge. An
inquiry, then, is still more necessary, in order to discover
who it was that dared to give orders so disgraceful to the
nation. With respect to the property of English mer-
chants it is said the trade was improper, and supplied
the enemy with strength: the cargoes that were con-
signed to St. Eustatius might, with much more safety,
have been sent more to the north. To this it is answered,
that the trade was perfectly legal ; that it was protected
and encouraged by acts of parliament, made since the
commencement of the American war ; that more to the
northward the cargoes might, it is true, have been safe
from capture, but they would not have been sold, they
would have found no market. But that this dread of
supplying the enemy is only a mask to cover the most
flagrant injustice is evident, for the Commander-in-Chief
sold all the effects they seized, — sold them much cheaper,
indeed, but exactly in the same manner as the merchant
would have sold them ; so that to supply the enemy by a
fair trade is with them a crime, but not, to supply them
by dint of violence and plunder. After all, it is said, what
injury has been done ? Whoever think themselves ag-
grieved, may have recourse to law. Without doubt they
may ; but it is only because they have been injured that
they must reciu: to law. Are we to thank Rodney and
Vaughan if our courts of justice are open, and our judges
impartial ? Was it a merit in Verres that the Sicilians
found a Tully to plead their cause, and a tribunal to hear
their complaints? When one considers who they are
whom those men advise to go to law, one must see that
it is adding insult to injury. It is telling the wretches
whom they have reduced to beggary, that they may follow

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1781. THE BBV. iOBV ROGET. 123

them home if they wDl, engage in an expensive lawsuit^
and try whether the goodness of their cause alone will
enahle them to overcome men crowned with laurels, ele-
vated with popular favour, and loaded with riches. And
what redress will the law give them ? at most only the
restoration of their property. But who will compensate
them for a long separation from their families, and for
the injury their commerce must have sustained hy a
tedious attendance on our courts of justice? But the
strongest ground on which the motion was opposed was*
that it would be unjust to condemn Rodney and Vaughan
unheard and absent ; and yet this argument comes with
an ill grace from those who are so confident of their inno-
cence ; for being innocent, they cannot fear a condemna-
tion. These confident friends of Rodney, to be consistent
with themselves, should be the most earnest for the pro-
posed inquiry, which will clear his character from the
foulest stain which, whether justly or not, it has certainly
contracted. Let us be just to our officers, but let us not
be unjust to these miserable sufferers who are reduced to
want bread ; let us not be unjust to ourselves, nor suffer
the honour of the nation to be blasted by a flagrant vio-
lation of the laws of nations.

Did I ever inform you that, among the variety of dis-
puting societies which were established here in such
abundance last winter, there were several for debating
topics of religion ? Having never been present at any of
them, I cannot speak of them from my own knowledge ;
but, according to the representation I have had given me
of the company which usually frequent them, the auditors
are mostly weak, well-meaning people, who are inclined
to Methodism ; the speakers partly fanatics, who persuade
themselves that a jargon of scriptural words, as unintelli-
gible to themselves as to their hearers, is inspired elo-
quence; some designing villains, who are anxious to
poison the minds of the people, and by means of their re-
ligious prejudices to work their own bad ends; and a few
coxcombs, with more wit than understanding, and who
go there for the purpose of ridiculing religion, or rather of
displaying their own talents to advantage, by placing them

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^24 LETTERS TO May,

in contrast with the imbecility of their opponents. That
such meetings, where the cause of religion is probably no
less injured by its defenders than by its assailants, are at
all times pernicious, can, I think, admit of no dispute ;
but at present they are particularly dangerous, as they
tend to keep alive that rage of persecution against the
Catholics which has of late so unhappily infected the
minds of the people. Nothing, one would imagine, could
raise up panegyrists of these societies but what has lately
happened, an attempt to suppress them. The Solicitor-
General^ has lately brought a bill into Parliament for
this purpose. The bill is drawn artfully enough ; for, as
these societies are held on Sundays, and people pay for
admittance, he has joined them with a famous tea-drinking
house, involving them both in the same fate, and en-
titling his bill, A Bill to regulate certain Abuses and
Profanations of the Lord's Day. This bill has met with
no opposition in Parliament but from two or three
members ; but among the common people, I am told, it is
exceedingly odious. It is called a persecution, an inqui-
sition, and many other names equally reproachful and in-
applicable. Could one, indeed, expect that those tur-
bulent spirits who have sought to blow up the wildest fa-
naticism among the people, would patiently suffer so
powerful an instrument to be Wrested out of their hands ?
Have you ever heard of a book published here some
time since by a Mr. Howard, upon the State of the Prisons
in England, and in several other countries of Europe ?
You may conjecture from the subject that it is not a book
of great literary merit ; but it has a merit infinitely su-
perior. It is one of those works which have been rare in
all ages of the world ; it is written with a view only to the
good of mankind. The author was some time ago sheriff
in the country ; in the execution of that office a number
of instances of abuses practised in the prisons came under
his observation. Shocked with what he saw, he began to
inquire whether the prisons in the adjacent counties were
on a better footing. Finding everywhere the same in-

^ Mr* James Mansfield.

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1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 125

justice prevail, he resolved, — a private individual, — to
attempt to reform abuses which he found were as general
as they were shocking to humanity. Accordingly, he
made a visit to every prison and house of correction in
England, with invincible perseverance and courage; for
some of the prisons were so infected with diseases and
putrid air, that he was obliged to hold a cloth steeped in
vinegar to his nostrils during the whole time he remained
in them, and. to change his clothes the moment he returned.
After having devoted so much time to this painful em-
ployment, he set out on a tour thiough great part of
Holland, Germany, and Switzerland, to visit their prisons.
What a singular journey ! — not to admire the wonders of
art and nature, not to visit courts and ape their manners ;
but to dive into dungeons, to compare the misery of men
in different climates, to study the arts of mitigating the
torments of mankind I What a contrast might be drawn
between the painful labour of this man, and the ostenta-
tious sensibility which turns aside from scenes of misery,
and, with the mockery of a few barren tears, leaves it to
seek comfort in its own distresses ! The result of all his
inquiries Mr. Howard has laid before the Parliament, and
some steps have, 1 believe, been taken towards putting
our prisons on a better regulation; but I am sorry I
cannot particularly inform you what they are.
Adieu, yours most ait'ectionately,

S. R.

Letter XI.
[TO .]

La Grande Chartreuse, near Grenoble, Sept. 8, 178I.>

This is but the third day, my dear , that I

find myself in this monastery, and I seem already to have
inhabited it for years. The sight of the same objects
and of the same faces, and the precise order which reigns
here, soon destroy the novelty of the life of a recluse ;

■ ^ Mr. Romilly made a journey to France and Switzerland in the
summer of this year. See *< Narrative of his eaily Life^" p. 43.

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126 LETTERS TO Sept.

and I can hardly persuade myself, since I have been in
this place, that I am ever to quit it. It was dusk when we
arrived, and we were so much fatigued with our journey
that we paid little attention to any thing but the hospitality
of our religious hosts, and the excellent supper they setbc^-
fore us. As for myself, when I was shown into my cham-
ber, I was so overwhelmed with drowsiness that I took
notice of nothing in it but a bed, into which I threw my-
self with the impatience of a weary traveller. The next
morning, after a slumber of nine hours without interrup-
tion,—except once, indeed, that I was waked by the melan-
choly bell which simimons the fathers to the midnight ser-
vice,—I found myself lying on a small wooden bed, in a little
cell paved with tiles, and furnished only with two wooden
chairs, and a desk for prayer, over which hung a very in-
different print of the passion of our Saviour. My window
looked over, the spacious court-yard before the houses
which was vast, but solitary ; the grass grew between the
stones, and in the midst stood two fountains, the melan-
choly splashing of whose waters alone interrupted the
deep silence. The aspect of the country was well suited
to the building, and presented to the view a dreary
mountain rising above, one end wholly covered with
woods of gloomy pine. I quitted my little cell to walk
about the house of this solitary community. Every object
struck me with awe and respect. As I walked through
the long cloisters, nothing broke the profound silence of
the convent but the sound of my steps on the pavement,
faintly echoed by the vaulted roof. The cloister led me
by a small burial-ground in the midst of the building,
where a number of tombstones in the form of crosses were
placed in a kind of irregular order, — some high, some low,
some new, others mouldering away and broken or fallen
down, and with inscriptions scarce legible. This is the
burial-place of the Generals ; and they are never per-
mitted to be far distant from it after their elevation to the
supremacy of their order ; for the General must not step
beyond the precincts of the monastery. I began to read
the inscriptions ; and while I was remarking the very
advanced age to which a life abstemious even to excess

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1781. THE BEV. JOHN ROOET. 121

had been prolonged by these venerable fathers, and was
observing the slight distinctions which some of them de-
rived from the addition of a few years to their imiform
lives, or by having died, some in the present century, and
some three hundred years ago, I heard the distant steps
of some person in the cloister. I quitted the cemetery
to see who it might be ; a white figure at a considerable
distance was advancing towards me ; it was one of the
fathers. I walked to meet him, and should have spoken
to him ; but he had arrived at the door of his cell, which
opened into the cloister : he entered, and shut-to his door.
I reproached myself for having forgotten that the fathers
are not permitted to speak, and for having exposed him
to the temptation of opening his lips ; for he seemed in
that instant to regret that the laws of his order imposed si-
lence on him. The falling-to of the heavy door rang
through the building, and left an awful impression on my
mind. In imagination I followed this venerable monk
into his cell. I fancied myself, like him, imprisoned from
the world, and separated from the grave by nothing but
the unvaried round of fasts and prayers ; and that I should
never quit my cell, except to rehearse the vigils in the
chapel, to eat one weekly meal in silence with my brethren,
or to walk about the lonely mountain, till I was carried
into my tomb.

S. R.

Letter XII.

OBtend, Nov. 10. 1781.

Once more better than my word» I write to you, my
dear Roget, from this place, though I did not give you
reason to expect to hear from me till I should have arrived
at London ; but I deserve no thanks for this letter, for it
la the fruits of the most irksome leisure which an unfa-
vourable wind inflicts on me, by confining me to this
place. I cannot look back on the manner in which I have
spent the last five months, without owning myself much
indebted to you for having induced me to take a journey,
jpart of which has afforded me much pleasure, and all, if I

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128 LETTEBS Tt) Nor.

do not flatter myself, mucli instruction ; at the same time
that I have gained by it this great advantage, that I now
find myself possessed of a tolerable stock of health and
strength, both of which I was poor in when I landed here
in June last.

Pray inform me in your next letter whether the last
part of Rousseau*s works has yet been published, and
whether you hear any thing of the edition of Berne. I
have talked a great deal about that our favourite author
with Mr. Romilly * of Paris, who was one of the very few
persons who remained connected with him till his death ;
though, what is singular, he did not sacrifice to that con-
nexion his friendship with Diderot. The manner in which-
these two authors used to speak of one another well ex-
emplifies their different dispositions. Rousseau, though
fully persuaded that Diderot had used him exceedingly
ill, used to tell Mr. Romilly that he did well to continue
his acquaintance with him, for that there was much to be
learned in his conversation. Diderot, on the contrary,
could not forgive Mr. Romilly for seeing Rousseau,
whom he loaded with the most opprobrious names, though
he never would particularise the injuries he pretended to
have received from him. The acrimony of Diderot against
Rousseau, instead of abating, seems to have increased
with the death of that unfortimate man.' His remains
were hardly cold before Diderot, in his L\fe of Senecct,
treated him in vague and general terms, as a monster of
hypocrisy and impurity. In one of the visits I made Di-
derot, I purposely turned the conversation on Rousseau.
The reason which Diderot gave for not attacking him till
after his death was that several private persons were in-
volved in the transactions in which Rousseau had used
him so ill, and that, if he had mentioned those affairs
before, Rousseau, ** qui n'avait point de pudeur," would
not have scrupled, in defending himself, to have blasted
the characters of those other persons. This reason seems

^ The Mr. Romilly here mentioned was no relation of the writer.
See p. 47.

* Rousseau died in T778.

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1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. |29

a very strange one ; and the rather so, as Diderot's accu-
sation, entirely vague and uncertain, particularises neither
things nor persons. However, he is going to publish a
second edition of the I4fe of Seneca, increased by a whole
volume, in which he is to defend his accusation of Rous-
seau in the former edition against the editors of the
Jowmal de Paris, among whom are Mr. Romilly and Mr.
Corancez, who severely criticised it. I talked with Dide-
rot a good deal about this work, of which he said he would
send me a copy. I find that, among other very extrava-
gant means which he has hit on to defend and exalt the
character of his hero, one is to destroy the veneration with
which the world has hitherto regarded Thraseas ; though
in truth, the extravagant design of abusing Thraseas is
but a consequence'^ of a former extravagance, that of ex-
alting Seneca. When I see these two men compared
together, I cannot help thinking of the two architects ^ of
antiquity : in Seneca I see the eloquent speaker who talks
of the greatest virtues ; in Thraseas, the godlike stoic, who
shows those virtues in action. The chimeras of Seneca
were realized in Thraseas.

In the little I have seen of the French, I have found
them to be much less gay than they are commonly
said to be. They are merry and serious by starts ; but
they are strangers to cheerfulness, and still more to
serenity of temper. When Mr. De Luc was at Paris, he
often observed to a gentleman whom I am a(;quainted with,
as he walked out with him on Sunday evenings, that he
never saw in England that mirth and gaiety which appear-
ed on the countenances of the French. The observation has
often been made before, but by men of less sense than Mr.
De Luc ; and thence one is to conclude, that the French
are a happier nation than the English, and consequently
that a despotic government is preferable to a free one !
I greatly doubt the happiness of the French ; but, if they

^ Competitors for the erection of a public building at Athens; the
one of whom fascinated the people by his eloquence, whilst the other,
who had more knowledge of his art than of oratory, said only, <' Men
of Athens, all that he has spoken will I perform." — Fide Plutarch,
Reip, Ger, Prcec,

VOL. I. K

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130 LETTERS TO Nov.

are happy, they are more to be pitied than if they were
discontented, because, in their situation, it is not possible
they can be happy till their souls are debased to a level
with their condition. Slaves must be insensible indeed
to the misery and ignominy of their state, when they can
hug the chains that dishonour them, and lick the feet by
which they are trampled on. Such men can never taste
of real happiness ; to them all its genuine sources are dried
up. It is ever the policy of a tyrant to enervate the
minds of his subjects, and to give them a fondness for
false grandeur and empty pleasures. When he has. once
wrought this change in their disposition, he may at an
easy price glut them with all that they are greedy after :
they will never feel the want of pleasures which they no
longer have souls to enjoy. So it w)is that, in the worst
days of the Roman empire, its tyrants fed a populace,
whom they had rendered stupid and sensual, with offals
and gaudy shows. It is not more surprising that a people
ignorant of liberty are contented with servitude, than that
a man blind from his birth laments not the want of the
most delightful of the senses. I have never seen a troop
of children who appeared more cheerful and contented
than the deaf and dumb scholars of the Abb6 de TEpee ;
but ought I from thence to conclude, that they are as
happy, or perhaps happier than we, and that Providence,
in giving us our senses complete, bestowed on us a super-
fluous, if not a pernicious gift ?

At Versailles I assisted at the mass. The service was
very short, though it was on a Sunday ; for kings are so
highly respected in that country that even Religion ap-
points for them less tedious ceremonies than it imposes
on the people. The moment his Majesty appeared, the
drums beat and shook the temple, as if it haid been in-
tended to announce the approach of a conqueror. Daring
the whole time of saying mass, the choristers sang, some-
times single parts, sometimes in chorus. In the front
seats of the galleries were ranged the ladies of the court,
glowing with rouge, and gorgeously apparelled, to enjoy
and form a part of the showy spectacle. The King
laughed and spied at the ladies ; every eye was fixed on

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1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. ]31

the personages of the court, every ear was attentive to the
notes of the singers, while the priest, who in the mean
time went on in the exercise of his office, was unheeded
by all present Even when the Host was lifted up, none
observed it ; and if the people knelt, it was because they
were admonished by the ringing of the bell ; and even in
that attitude, all were endeavouring to get a glimpse of
the King. How can a King of France ever be brought
to regard his subjects as his equals, when, even before the
throne of heaven, he maintains so high a superiority over
all around him ? What an idea must he not conceive of
his own importance, when he thus sees .his God less
honoured than himself?

S.R.

Lettkr XIII.

Gray's Inn. Nov. 16, 1781.

At last, my dear Roget, you find I am safe arrived at
my dear home. It was very fortunate that I took advantage
of the first favourable moment which presented itself for
crossing the sea, as the wind has been contrary ever since,
and there are, at present, no less than four mails due.

I have not yet had time to do anything in the com-
mission you gave me ; but I shall now set about it im-
mediately, and give you an account of it in my next.

I forget what it was I wrote to you from Ostend ; I
know I mentioned something of Diderot, but did I tell
you how zealously he preaches his system of materialism ?
In the first visit I paid him, after we had talked a little
on political topics, he turned the conversation to his fa-
vourite philosophy ; he praised the English for having led
the way to true philosophy, but the adventurous genius
of the French, he said, had pushed them on before their
guides. •* Vous autres," these were his words, " vous melez
la theologie avecla philosophic ; c'est gSter tout, c'est meler
le mensonge avec la verit6 ; il faut abrer la th6ologie." He
spoke of his acquaintance with Hume. " Je vous dirai
un trait de lui, mais il vous sera un pen scandaleux peut-
etre, car vous Anglais vous croyez un pen en Dieu ; pour

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232 LETTERS TO Not.

nous autres nous n'y croyons gueres. Hume dina avec
une grande compagnie chez le Baron d'Holbach. II
6tait assis k c6t6 du Baron ; on parla de la religion na-
turelle : *Pour les Ath6es,' disait Hume, *je ne crois pas
qu'il en existe ; je n'en ai jamais vu.' * Vous avez 6t^ un
peu malheureux,' r^pondit I'autre, • vous void a table
avec dix-sept pour la premiere fois.' "

He said that Chancellor Bacon was one of the greatest
men our country had ever produced, and that Bacon says,
" Causa finalis est virgo, Deo sacrata, quae nihil parit ;"
that Plato, too, the author of all the good theology that
ever existed on the earth, says, that there is a vast cur-
tain drawn over the heavens, and that men must content
themselves with what passes beneath that curtain, without
ever attempting to raise it ; and in order to complete my
conversion from my unhappy errors, he read me all
through a little work of his own,— a Dialogue between
himself and a lady of quality much attached to religion,
whom he attempts to convince of her folly.^

You know that the Queen of France was brought to
bed at the time that I was at Paris ; but I never had time
to give you any account of the rejoicings on that occasion.
What seemed to me most extraordinary was, that they
were commanded. The day the Dauphin was born, an
order was posted up in all the streets, enjoining the
citizens to illuminate their houses for three successive
nights, and to shut up their shops, and commanding the
officers of the police to look to the execution of this order.
Who would have thought that a people so famous for
their fond attachment to their kings could have needed
such an order ! an order which, even when rendered ne-
cessary by the disloyalty of a nation, can never answer
any purpose, imless it be to lull a feeble government into
a childish joy by an outward show of happiness, by making
an oppressed and discontented nation for a moment act
the part of a happy and a grateful people I

At night I walked about Paris to see the illuminations ;

^ This is published in his works, under the title of Entretien d^un
Philasophe avec la Marechak de .

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1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. I33

the streets were crowded with people, and the public edi-
fices were well lighted up ; but in many of the private
houses there appeared only one glimmering lamp at each
window, hung up, not in token of joy, but of reluctant
obedience to the Sovereign's will ; and some of the citi-
zens were daring enough not to illuminate their houses at
all. In many of the squares were little orchestras with
bands of music playing to the populace, some of whom
danced about in wild irregular figures. But it was at the
Place de Greve that the greatest crowd was assembled.
The Town-house there was richly illuminated, a fire- work
was played ofP, and afterwards the people were invited to
dance to the music of four bands in different orchestras.
The company, which consisted of the very lowest and
dirtiest rabble of Paris, soon began to dance in a ring ;
but they were noisy rather than merry, and none seemed
happy, unless happiness can be found ini a tumultuous
oblivion. My opinion of the Parisians, liith respect to
gaiety, is so different from that of all travellers, that I
hardly dare trust to it ; but I must describe things as I
see them, and not borrow from others my opinions and
observations. However, as the idea one forms of a people
commonly depends in a great measure on the disposition of
mind one happens to be in one's self, I ought not to conceal
from you, that the ragged and miserable appearance of the
people, the sight of the guards drawn up on every side,
the frequent appearance of the horse-guet, who came
upon one every now and then unexpectedly, and the re-
flection that the pavement on which I stood had been so
often wet with the blood of the wretches whom the bar-
barous justice of the country dooms to expire in excru-
ciating and lengthened agonies, spread over my mind such
a cloud of melancholy as nothing could dissipate.

Forgive me for not making this long letter still longer ;
but as yet I have hardly found a moment's leisure since
my return. Pray write to me soon, and often think of
your sincere friend and most affectionate brother,

Saml. Romilly.

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134 LETTERS TO Dec.

Letter XIV.

Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, Dec 4, 1781.

j I have just received your letter of the 14th of last

month, wherein you mention a former letter addressed to
me at London, which unfortunately has not yet come to
hand. I fear it was on board that packet which has been
lost, and which sailed the last before the one in which I
came over. As there is no prospect of my ever recovering
it, I shall be much obliged to you to repeat, in your next,
the most interesting of its contents which you recollect.
The hopes you give us of your returning to England have
given me the greatest joy. When we have you here again
we intend it should be for life. I hope, therefore, you
will be careful to lay in a good stock of health before you
undertake the tourney.

And now, t(f speak of public news, which is of much
too serious a nature to be passed over in silence. When
I arrived home, I found everybody in great anxiety for
the army under Lord Comwallis. His situation was very
critical ; an army, vastly superior in numbers to his own,
surrounded him on every side ; and no person seemed to
doubt that, unless Clinton arrived in time to relieve him
before his provisions were consumed, he would be obliged
to surrender up himself and his army prison rs, and the
disgrace at Saratoga would be renewed in the Chesapeak.
It was thought, however, that Clinton might reach the
Chesapeak before it was too late ; and much was then ex-
pected from the valour of two such British armies against
forces so unnatural allied together, and so unaccustomed
to act in conjunction as those of America and France.
At any rate, it was supposed that the event must be quite
decisive of the war; and the public was eager and
burning with impatience to hear whether America was to
return to her dependence, or be dissevered from us for ever.
In this uncertainty, the day on which the Parliament was
to meet drew near. The king's speech was prepared, had
been read at the Council, and was to have been delivered

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1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 135

to Parliament the very next day, when news arrived that
Cornwallis and all his soldiers were prisoners. This
report, which came with such authority as not to admit of
any doubt, filled many persons with the deepest conster-
nation ; they saw blasted all our hopes of ever attaining
what, in the course of so many years, we had pursued at
the cost of so much blood and treasure. Others, instead
of turning their views back, looked forward to the evils
we had escaped, and thought we had more reason to re-
joice at an event which had delivered us from a war so
destructive to the nation ; an event which, by happening
thus early (for they considered it as inevitable at some time
or other), had spared us many millions of debt, and the
loss of many gallant armies, which fhe ministers would
certainly have sacrificed in the pursuit of a favourite, but
unattainable object. But none (at least none that I have
heard of) saw this calamity with the terrors with which it
has since been heightened ; for none imagined that, after
another so awful a lesson, there would be any talk of con-
tinuing our inauspicious war in America.

The debates, which were to be had on the following day,
promised to be very interesting ; and so much had they
roused the attention of men, that the lobby of the House
was full long before the Speaker arrived; nor was it
without difficulty that he could make his way into the
House. The moment he had entered the people crowded
after him : it was impossible to shut the doors, and the
gallery was in a moment filled with a promiscuous crowd.
I, among the rest, had the good fortune to get a seat. As
you have, without doubt, already seen the King's speech,
you have as certainly observed that, after boasting of suc-
cesses in the East Indies which nobody had heard of before,
announcing the disaster in Virginia, and declaring his reso-
lution to prosecute the war with vigour, he goes on to in-
volve the future conduct of the war in darkness and un-
certainty. Let me recall his words to you, for they are very
material. " I should not answer the trust committed to me
as the Sovereign of a free people, &c., if I consented to sa-
crifice, either to my own desire of peace, or to their tempo-
rary ease and relief, those essential rights and permanent

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136 LETTERS TO Dec.

interests, upon the maintenance and preservation of which
the future strength and security of this country must ever
principally depend ;" and afterwards, " the late mis-
fortune calls loudly for your firm concurrence and assist-
ance, to frustrate the designs of our enemies, equally pre-
judicial to the interests of America, and to those of Great
Britain." In both Houses, all the' speakers on the side
of Opposition understood these words to intimate that
the war in America was still to be carried on ; and the
address, which echoed them back to the throne, they under-
stood as pledging the House to give their sanction to that
measure : but the Ministerial speakers denied that to be
the sense either of the speech or of the address, and many
of them declared that, if they had understood it so, they
certainly would have voted against the address ; not that
they were clear that the war in America ought to be
abandoned, but because it was a question of too great
moment to be thus hastily decided.

But let me confine myself to the debate in the Commons^
which I was myself witness to. The gentlemen who
moved for an address, echoing, as usual, every sentence
of the speech (men so little known that I shall not trouble
you with their names), prefaced their motion with ha-
rangues of a very singular kind ; giving the most dismal
picture of the nation, yet saying we ought not to despond ;
boasting that our empire had numberless resources, yet
omitting to point out any one of those resources ; con-
fessing that we were overcome in America, yet insisting
that we ought still to maintain the style and deportment
of conquerors ; reminding the House that it became a
renowned and high-spirited nation not to sink under its
misfortunes, but, like ancient Rome, to take courage and
a more determined resolution from its defeats: that,
though every man must be deeply affected with the late
calamity, it was not for Britons to indulge an unmanly
sorrow; and that it better suited the character of the
nation to appear before their King on this occasion as the
bold Barons, our ancestors, are recorded to have done in
former times, upon alike disaster, when for mourning they
put on suits of armour. To these declamations they

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1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 13»J

added an abundance of angry invectives against the ambi-
tion of the Bourbons, threw out many vague accusationa
against the opposition as the real authors of all these
measures, whose mischievous conduct they contrasted
with the wise schemes and prudent measures of adminis-
tration, which the seditious harangues of their opponents
had frustrated.

When the last of these gentlemen had ended. Fox rose
to move as an amendment to the ^proposed address, the
omission of all the words which I have above transcribed,
and the insertion of others which said nothing of con-
tinuing the war, but recommended a change of measures.
This motion he introduced by a very long and passionate
speech, in which he said that he had to set before the House
a picture of the nation, melancholy indeed, but much less
melancholy than had been drawn by the gentlemen who
preceded him. He would use to the House the same
reasoning with which Demosthenes addressed the peoplie
of Athens: "If your country had been reduced to its
present miserable state under a wise and virtuous ad-
ministration, as these men pretend, your situation would
be desperate indeed ; but if, as I insist, your affairs have
been foolishly, imprudently, and perhaps treacherously
administered, you have still hopes of retrieving them
under other men and by some other system." He said,
that for the party of administration to stand forth the
accusers of the minority on a day of such shame and
humiliation to themselves was insolence not to be en-
dured; that their accusations were the severest con-
demnation of themselves, for what could be thought of
those, men whose best digested plans and profoundest
schemes were all disconcerted and scattered into air by
the breath of one seditious orator! that the authors of
the ruinous measures which had been pursued sought to
shift the responsibility for what they had been guilty of
from their own shoulders, to those of the men who had
from the first seen the folly of these measures, had fore-
told their failure, and had endeavoured in vain to open the
eyes of the nation before it was too late. He then en-
tered on the subject of the address : he said he must call

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138 LETTERS TO Dec. 1781.

back the attention of the House to the events of the war;
events which, though the movers of the address had
passed them over in silence, should and must be often
mentioned that night ; events which would long be re-
membered with horror in the history of* this country, and
the effects of which he hoped would soon be felt upon its
scaffolds. At this, the Solicitor-General smDed. Fox
perceived it, and hastily asked him if he was not yet con-
tented. "What," coiAinued he, "are we still to suffer
before the Ministry are called to account? Is not all they
have done suflScient, — not the loss of thirteen provinces,
— ^the effusion of so much blood, the waste of so much
public money,— the annihilation of so many branches of
our commerce? What crimes can be imagined black
enough to provoke the severity of justice, if deeds so
atrocious, if such accumulated treasons to their country,
do not bring their authors to the scaffold?" He then
went through the history of the war, pointing out every-
where the misconduct of Ministers, and concluded with
saying that, though he would not assert that they were
pensioned by the King of France, he would be bold to
say that France had not, among all the statesmen whose
memory she reveres the most, one who had done her half
such essential services as the present English Ministry.
They railed, indeed, at the French King with empty
words, as the Miso-philippoi, of whom Demosthenes
speaks, railed against the King of Macedon ; but, like
them, they were bent on securing to him the most sub-
stantial benefits. They disdained to pursue, like Louis
XIV., vain and ostentatious schemes of superficial great-
ness— they had industriously gained for the country they
favoured the greatest and most solid advantages — an ex-
tension of her commerce, and the annihilation of the only
rival which could check Irer power. Nor was this great
design more meritorious than the admirable mode of
its execution ; the Ministry having so contrived it that
America should separate from England, not by treaty,
but by the decision of war, in order that sentiments of
resentment and hostility might remain for ever impressed
on either party. Nor was this all ; they had so managed

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Jan. 1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 139

matters as to render the union between France and
America indissoluble; they had made the concluding
blow proceed from their joint efforts, and had taken care,
by letting the French be their deliverers, that a sense of
gratitude to that people should be with them eternal,
like the memory of their deliverance. He ended with
showing the folly and cruelty of still continuing the war
in America, and said the Ministers had dared to suggest
to his Majesty the speech of a hard-hearted, unfeeling
prince, who was not to be moved by the affliction of his
much injured and exhausted people, but was determined
madly to prosecute the same measures as had already
driven them to the brink of ruin. Burke made another
very violent speech, in which he promised soon to move
for an impeachment against the Ministers: but the
amendment to the address was lost in the Commons, by
218 to 129 ; and in the Lords, by 75 to 31.

Adieu. Yours most affectionately,

SamL. ROMILLY.

Letter XV.

Gray's Inn, Jan. 11, 1782.

That I have suffered so many posts to pass without
writing to you, my dear Roget, you will have ascribed, I
hope, to its true causes, — a great deal of business, and no
news to send you.

In a letter which I received at Paris you desired me to
procure for you the papers which the Congress published
at their first meeting, their petition to the King, and their
addresses to the people of Great Britain and to the Cana-
dians ; but I suppose you have since discovered that they
are all printed at length in the Annual Register for 1774.

You desire me to send you characters of Lord Dart-
mouth, Lord George Germaine^ &c. Their private
characters I am quite unacquainted with ; and it is not
easy to distinguish their characters as statesmen, for no
one minister has appeared to be the author of any parti-
cular measure. All that has been done has had the ap-

^ Members of Lord North's administration.

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140 LETTERS TO Jan.

parent approbation of the whole administration; and
there are persons who go so far as to assert, that the real
authors of all the proceedings against America are still
behind the curtain. Of the whole administration, how-
ever, taken together, the principal characteristics are,
want of system and irresolution ; and the latter, indeed,
is but a consequence of the former. Having little, con-
fined views, they seem never, from the first, to have
formed any comprehensive plan ; and this original defect
has increased with ill success. Perplexed and con-
founded with the mazes and dangers into which they
have run, like children they rather turn away from what
affrights them than endeavour to prevent it. They ward
off' the present evil that presses on them, but leave the
morrow to provide for itself; they may truly be said, ac-
cording to the Latin phrase, in diem vivere. Their plan
of operations (for system they have none) changes with
every new occurrence ; with every various accident, every
various passion takes its turn to rule them; regarding
only the immediate object before them, they magnify its
importance; they are now confident of success, now
plunged into despair. The idol they erected yesterday
is cast down to-day, and perhaps will be enshrined again
to-morrow. In prosperity they are proud, contemptuous,
and overbearing ; in adversity supple, mean, and abject.
At the commencement of the disputes with America,
they treated the refractory colonists as a despicable gang
of ruflSans ; but the moment a league was formed with
France, they prostrated themselves at the feet of those
rebels they had spurned, and offered them much more
than ever had been demanded. This panic was soon
dissipated by a gleam of success ; the ministers resumed
confidence, and one of them was imprudent enough to
hint, even in the House of Commons, that unconditional
submission was alone to be listened to ;

" Quidlibet impotens
Sperare, fortun&que dulci

» Horat. Car. lib. i. 37.

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 141

Nay, only last winter, flushed with the successes of Lord
Cornwallis, they were already, in imagination, masters of
all the Southern provinces ; and masters so absolute, that
they thought it time to send out again Lord Dunmore to
chastise, not to govern Virginia.

The petitions and remonstrances I mentioned in my
last go on very languidly ; the nation seems fallen into a
deep sleep. There are calamities, I fear, enough in store
to awaken them ; God forbid that it be then too late I The
first business the Parliament is to be engaged on, when it
meets again, is an inquiry into Lord Sandwich's conduct.^
The cause, however, is already prejudged; for Lord
North has declared that this inquiry will prove his col-
league to be honest, able, and vigilant. William Pitt, the
late Lord Chatham's son, of whom I believe I talked with
you, has made a great figure this session in Parliament ;
he has spoken only twice, but both his speeches have
gained him uncommon approbation. Applause was echoed
from one side of the House to the other ; and Fox, in an
exaggerated strain of panegyric, said he could no longer
lament 'the loss of Lord Chatham, for he was ag^in living
in his son, with all his virtues and all his talents. He
studies for the bar ; and, to whatever he applies himself,
whether to law or politics, he is likely soon to take pre-
cedence of all our orators. He possesses those talents
which are said to have been peculiar to his father —
warmth of utterance, command of language, strength and
closeness of reasoning, and, above all, an energy and
irresistible vigour of eloquence.

As I could not have published an article about Geneva
in The Annual Register before next year, 1 sent the ac-
count I had written to the printer of The Morning Chron-
icle ; and it has been inserted in two very long articles of
that paper of last Tuesday and of this day. The account
is exactly the same as when you saw it, except as to cor-
rections of the style, which, after all, I have not had time
to make other than indifferent, and except a continuation
from the time when that accoimt broke oif to the present

^ First Lord of the Admiralty.

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142 \ LETTERS TO Jan.

moment. I will send you both papers with your parcel of
books.

I must now leave you, for I have a great deal to say to
our dear Catherine.

My dear Sister,

If my ascending the Dent d'Oche had answered no
other purpose, I should not regret my excursion, since it
serves sometimes to recall me to your memory, and to that
of your dear little boy. Pray when he knows his Uncle
by no other description than that of the man who went up
the high mountain, do not fail to assure him that I am
not very much taller than Roget, lest the gigantic ideas
his little imagination may form of me should be sadly
disappointed when we are happy enough to meet. I hope
he always talks English to you, though all his soliloquies
are French.

I was very sorry to hear that you were somewhat uneasy
about your future plans, whether to return to London or
Geneva: you seem to think that whichever part of the al-
ternative you embrace, it will be decisive where you will
spend the remainder of your days. If I thought so too, I
should not hesitate to entreat you to return without delay
to England. But why not pass one year more at Geneva
or at Lausanne (for as affairs are at Geneva, I every day
rejoice that you are out of it), and then, with Roget's in-
creased stock of health, come and make us all happy here ?
Nay, suppose you should be obliged to remain two or
three years longer abroad, they will seem as nothing when
we meet. Life, it must be confessed, is short enough, but
at our age two or three years is no very considerable por-
tion of it. Should it happen, which God forbid, that
Roget's health should render it unsafe for him to return
to England, I hope we shall both learn to endure separa-
tion with patience. I will not preach to you that the
satisfaction of acting properly in every station of life into
which we are thrown, and of bearing with composure
every misfortune, is a pleasure to compensate every want
and to remove all the uneasiness of absence. I feel too
painfully by the concern I experience at being so far from a

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 143

sister I so dearly love, that that doctrine is too sublime for
me, and therefore not to be preached by me to others. But
yet, my dear Kitty, when we are guided only by the
emotions of our hearts, we are very often misled. Great
as is the pleasure of being amidst our friends (and how
great it is I believe no one knows better than myselOt I
fear we often magnify it much beyond the truth. Separa-
tion gives to what is absent a thousand charms which
vanish on a nearer approach. Yes, I really believe that
even the charms of my dear father's society, and the
pleasure of remarking continually, by a close observance,
the uncommon excellence of his heart, may be exagge-
rated by an imagination always flying back to the paternal
house, and hovering over it with habitual fondness. Let
us, my dear sister, be cheerful as long as Heaven permits.
You mustf needs think me a very insipid traveller, for as
yet I have not given you an account of any thing that I
saw since I left you ; but if such accounts will afford you any
amusement, you have bat to write me word, and we will
make together a great many excursions to Paris ; but we
will not take Roget with us, lest, while we are gazing at
its magnificent buildings, its spacious squares and exten-
sive gardens, at the costly grandeur of Versailles, its su-
perb gallery, and its almost animated pictures and statues,
he draw us away, and exclaim in the words of our favourite
Rousseau, ** Prdtendues grandeurs ! frivoles d^dommage-
mens de la servitude, qui ne vaudront jamais I'auguste
liberte ! '' I know your penchant for the fine arts ; but to
describe all the beautiful in asterpieces of the best masters,
which I have seen in the collections of the Duke of Orleans
and the French King, would be almost an endless, and I
fear, after all, a tedious task. The living artists at Paris,
in every branch except sculpture and architecture, are, I
think, much below mediocrity. These two arts, indeed,
are not yet on the decline ; architecture, on the contrary,
seems better cultivated now than it has ever been. Have
you ever heard of Houdon, a famous sculptor at Paris ?
He it was who carved the bust of* Rousseau, which is now
so common at Geneva : he is a man of great merit, I think
I may say of great genius. I was particularly struck with

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144 LFTTERS TO Jan.

two of his designs for sepulchral monuments. In one.
Virtue with a serene and cheerful countenance, and
Friendship weeping with dishevelled hair and in an agony
of grief, are laying the dying man in his tomb : on one
side appear Envy and Calumny, hovering aloof, and not
daring to approach the grave : and on the other, the Dig-
nities, the Pomps, and Follies of the world dissolving into
air. The other is a monument for a Princess of Saxe
Gotha : she is represented walking in a kind of chapel ;
at the end is a recess, with a curtain half lifted up by the
image of Death, who has seized upon the princess, and is
dragging her with an irresistible arm into his dark abode :
the princess seems resigned to her fate, and is turning a
farewell look upon her subjects. In both these monu-
ments the thought is noble, but they both leave in the
mind a sentiment of despair ; and such is the effect of what,
at Paris, is called Philosophy : they boast that it has made
men wiser ; I am sure that it has not made them happier
than they were before. I must confess I regret those
times when Religion gave awful lessons from the graves of
the dead ; when she appeared, as on the tomb of Richelieu,
mitigating the pangs of death ; when the dead were seen
rising from their sepulchres, as in one of the master-pieces
of Roubillac, and the proud monuments of human grand-
eur mouldering away at the sound of the last trumpet.
But I must take my leave of you ; it is with that regret
which I always feel on quitting you.

S R.

Letter XVI.

Gray's Inn, Jan. 24, 1782.

At last, my dear Roget, I have sent your books ; Pache
set out last Monday.

Has Mr. Berenger heard any thing of De Lolme ? his
bookseller here has had no news from him since he left
Ostend, from which, and I believe some other circum-
stances, it is supposed that he is in the Bastille ; and it is
likewise supposed that the crime he is accused of is being the
author of the invectives against M. de Vergennes ^ which

^ Minister of Louis XVI.

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 145

appeared in the Courrier de Londres. It is true he is
not the author, but no matter for that. It is the policy of
an arbitrary court to make sure of all those whom they
suspect ; if he is guilty he deserves his fate, if innocent
there is no harm done. They will be convinced of their
error in some four or five years, and then, with true
politesse, on lui demandera miUe exciises, and set him at
liberty. I was very much surprised to hear that such a
zealot of liberty had set out on an errand so humiliating
and so hopeless as to sue a minister of France for permis-
sion to seU his papers in that kingdom. If it be true that
he is in the Bastille, I fear he is there for a long time ; for
to write against a minister is, in the religion of govern-
ment, the sin against the Holy Ghost.

You ask what I think of Diderot. I did not suppose
you would have thought that question necessary, when you
had read the account of my visit. With respect to the
atheists of Paris, among honest men there can hardly be
two opinions. A man must be grossly stupid who can en-
tertain such pernicious notions on subjects of the highest
importance without strictly examining them ; and much
is he to be pitied if, after examination, he still retains
them : but if, without examination of them, and uncertain
of their truth, though certain of their fatal consequences,
he industriously propagates them among mankind, one
loses all compassion for him in abhorrence of his guilt.
He is like a man infected with some deadly contagious
disease, for whom one's heart bleeds while he submits in
secrecy to his fate ; but when one sees him running in the
midst of a multitude, with the infernal design of commu-
nicating the pestilence to his fellow-creatures, indignation
and horror take the place of pity. I am not vain enough
to pronounce what is the extent of Diderot's and D'Alem-
bert's learning and capacity ; but, without an over-fond '
opinion of myself, I may judgqofthe subordinate atheists,
the mob of the Republic of Letters, the Plebecula who
have no opinions but what those their arbitrary tribunes
dictate to them ; and in these I have generally found the
grossest ignorance. The cause of modern atheism, I
believe, like that of the atheism of antiquity as Plato

VOL. I. L

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1 ^g LETTERS TO Jan.

represents it, is the most dreadful ignorance, disguised
under the name of the sublimest wisdom. You do well
to say that Plato does not favour their opinions. I fear
these self-erected idols of modern phDosophy, had they
been born among the philosophical magnates, would have
been but outcasts and exiles; for, if you have read Plato
lately, you will remember that, among his laws, some were
to be enacted for maintaining an uniformity of language
in matters of religion in all times and places, in all writ-
ings and conversations ; others for obliging all men to
worship the gods with the same ceremonies and to prohibit
all private sacrifices ; others, again, for inflicting the seve-
rest punishments on any who should dare maintain that
the wicked can be happy, or that the useful can be dis-
tinguished from the just. So totally does the authority
of the ancients, on which the advocates for unbounded
toleration build so much, upon occasion fail them.

You have long since read the account of the taking of
St. Eustatius. What infamy! The Governor is too
prudent, undoubtedly, ever to return to England ; he must
either drag on the load of his life in France, in the receipt
(for he cannot know the enjoyment) of the wages of his
treachery, or be more actively infamous, and take up
arms against his country. I am wrong, perhaps, to speak
as if his treason were proved, but can it possibly be
doubted ? How unfortunate we are in our commanders ;
some cowards, some traitors, others brave, indeed, but the
slaves of party, or the more abject slaves of avarice ! The
Ministers have often availed themselves of some circum-
stances which seemed for the moment fortunate, to boast
that we had Providence on our side. What will they say
now ? Never did the hand of Providence appear more
conspicuously than at present. We took St Eustatius
like pirates, violating in the persons and property of the
prisoners the law of nations ; but we did not profit by our
guilt. The effects seized were retaken in their passage
home, and the island itself is lost in the most disgraceful
manner. We encouraged treachery in the rebel Arnold,
but all we gained by it was empty promises ; the same
treachery is retaliated on us, and what we lose by it is the

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 14»j

only pledge we had, by which we might have purchased
back the friendship of the Dutch.^ And, indeed, when
one looks upon all the dreadful events of the war, and upon
all the calamities which this administration has brought
upon us, one is tempted to exclaim, " Nunquam atroci-
oribus cladibns, magisve justis indiciis approbation est,
non esse curae Deis securitatera nostram, esse ultionem I** *
Lord Cornwallis and Arnold are both arrived at Plymouth ;
the latter is said to have brought with him a very great
fortune. The Parliament met last Monday, but they have
not yet entered on any business of importance.

Admire my self-sufficiency ; for I am going to censure
a fault in the language of your last letter. You say " de-
puis lorSj^ a phrase which is used only in the territory of
Geneva, and which, as you are now in the Canton of
Berne, you are not entitled to. The literati of Paris are all
agreed to say ** depnis ce temps'' And how came I to be
so learned ? By the favour of D'Alembert, who told me
that " depuis lors " was one of the Genevanisms which
blemished the style of Rousseau. This piece of know-
ledge is not to be despised, for it is almost all I learned in
two visits I made to the reserved D'Alembert. Whatever
subject I talked of, he found means to turn the discourse
upon what was to be seen at Paris ; as if I visited him for
the purpose of gaining imperfectly that intelligence which
was to be had completely in the CuriositSs de Paris,
Your most affectionate

SaML. ROMILLT.

Letter XVII.

My dear Kitty, Cray's inn, Marck 1, 1782.

When, after having read your first letter, where you
are all joy with the thoughts of soon living with us again, I
came to the second, where that scheme is quite abandoned,
where you talk of taking a final leave of me, and of teach-

^ St. Eostataut was taken firom the Dutch, February 3rd, 1781 ; and
W88 taken by the French, under the command of Marquis BouiU^,
OQ NoTember the 26th 1781.

* Tac. Hist. 1—3.

L 2

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148 LETTERS TO Mardi,

ing your boy the history of our family and of his country,
as if we were to be only a tale in his memory, and be
to be for ever an alien to his native land, I sincerely
lamented the mischief I had undesignedly done ; and re-
proached myself a thousand times with coming like a
cruel invader, and carrying off the little sum of happiness
you had been so long scraping together : but how is it
possible, my dear sister, you could find anything in my
letter tending to fix you in so cruel a resolution ! My
intention, when I wrote, was only to persuade you not
to come to a determination at present either way. Not
but what I knew how painful it is to remain in suspense ;
but I strongly suspected, what your last letter has con-
vinced me of, that your seeming resolution had left you
in a very undecided and uneasy state, and that your think-
ing so continually on what was far distant only served to
weary and harass you by anticipating again and again the
fatigues, and by multiplying tenfold the dangers of the
journey. Let me preach to you a philosophy which I
have myself often found successful ; it is to command
one's imagination, and not to suffer it to carry one astray
into the midst of tragedies which are but possible ; for
though it is, I think, our duty in all cases to be prepared
for the worst, it cannot be necessary that we should afflict
ourselves by entering into all the detail of misery, and
by dwelling on objects which we see but darkly, and
through a medium that always magnifies and distorts
them. It becomes us to look forward to futurity, but not
to pry into it with too curious an anxiety. Another con-
solation which my little share of misfortunes in life has
taught me, is to trust that every evil will bring with it
some cause or means of comfort. The greatest of our
joys and afflictions are but in imagination. Learn then,
my dear sister, with me to treat those waking visions,
which you so forcibly describe to have thrown you into
alternate ecstasies of joy and starts of fear, and to have
made you pass many uneasy days and sleepless nights, as
the vain representation of what never was and never will
be. I flatter myself I am not teaching you any ideal
philosophy, but what I have myself practised with success.

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1782. THE KEV. JOHN KOGET. I49

Thank you, my dear Roget, for giving me so con-
stantly accounts of what passes at Geneva : my paper is
too short for me to waste it in compliments ; I shall there*
fore thank you, hy a like service, and tell you the news
we have here.

In my last I think I mentioned a motion which Fox
made in the House of Commons, censuring Lord Sand-
wich. He has since repeated it to the fullest House that
has been known for several years, there being 453 Mem-
bers present. The division was, for the motion 217,
against it 236. Lord Sandwich is, nevertheless, still con-
tinued in his oflSce. A motion has since been made by
General Conway, whose name I suppose you are by this
time well acquainted with, as he was principally con-
cerned in the repeal of the Stamp Act. His motion was
for an address to the King, praying that the impracticable
plan of subduing America by force might be abandoned*
and that proper means might be taken to efPect a recon-
ciliation with the American Colonies. I omit, as un-
necessary, the arguments by which it was supported : it
will naturally occur to you, that the principal topics of
argument were, the distress of this country, the impossi-
bility of succeeding in the conquest of America, the much
worse situation we are in now than at the very com-
mencement of the war, &c.

The Ministers opposed the motion with all their
strength : they said that to vote such an address would
be to apprize the enemy how we intended to act, and to
teach them how to counteract our designs ; it would be
to encourage the Americans by showing our despondency,
and instead of forwarding peace would set it at greater
distance. The expression of the proposed address was,
they said, much too loose and extensive ; it was impossible
to know how to comply with it. Was it intended to with-
draw all the troops from America? The motion might
be so understood ; and yet nobody had pretended that
this would be expedient.

The Ministers disclosed to the House, but in a very
unsatisfactory manner, their design for carrying on the
war. They said they meant to keep the posts ; and when

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250 LETTERS TO Maxdi/

it was asked what they meant by a war of* posts, the
Secretary at War said they meant to keep the posts they
had already, and to take more if they saw occasion. This
explanation produced a roar of " Hear, hear !" from the
Opposition. Fox said is was evident, from this and many
similar expressions dropped inadvertently, that the plan
of the war was changed only for the moment, and that the
faintest glimmering of success would awaken all the vain
projects of the Ministers ; that they would indulge new
dreams of conquest, that new armies would be marched
through the country, and unconditional submission be
again the only terms to be listened to. The new Secretary
of State for the American department, Welbore Ellis,
spoke in the debate, little to the purpose, though in a
great many words. One objection he made to the ob-
ject of the motion was, that it would be to abandon
our friends in America. The state of those friends.
Colonel Barr6 declared, and, as he said, from very good
information, to be this : those who were called our friends
in the Northern Provinces hardly troubled themselves
to know whether we were in existence, and those in
the South remembered us only to pour execrations on
our heads. The Ministers were asked why, if the war
was to be merely defensive in America, had Sir Guy
Carleton been appointed to the command in chief?
They answered that, unless the troops were recalled, an
officer must be sent to take the command, as otherwise
the chief in command, when Sir Henry Clinton leaves
America, would be a foreigner. But the argument which
the Court party seemed to rely on most, and which I
presume was meant to operate by way of threat (though,
if the event had been foreseen, it would surely never
have been used), was this : the Opposition, they said, to
act in a fair and manly manner, ought not to have made
such a motion as that before the House, but to have
moved at once for a change of ministers ; for that was
the effect which the motion must indirectly have if it
were carried, since no ministers could possibly remain
in office, if the Parliament could not trust them with the
executive power, but took upon itself to direct it. The

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1782. THE RBV. JOHN ROGET. X51

House was. exceedingly f\ill when I left it, which was
about one o'clock in the morning; but several Mem-
bers went away before the division. The motion was
lost by a majority of only a single vote ; the numbers
being 193 to 194. The House did not rise till three in
the morning.

The minoritjy resolved to try their strength again upon
the same question : accordingly the day before yesterday,
General Conway moved the following resolution : " That
after the long and fruitless continuance of the ofPensive
war in America, for the purpose of subduing the revolted
Colonies by force, it is evident that that object is im-
practicable, inasmuch as it takes from our exertions some
part of that strength which ought to be employed against
our European enemies, and is contrary to his Majesty's
inclination, expressed in his speech to both Houses, in
which he declared it to be his royal wish to restore peace
and tranquillity." I was not in the House, but the argu-
ments used in the debate were much the same as had
been employed before. The House did not divide till
half past one o'clock, when the motion was carried against
the Ministry by a majority of 19 ; 234 for the motion to
215 against it. This happy event occasioned, the next
day, a rise of the stocks of one and a half per cent.

Letter XVIII.

Dear Roget, ^^^y'^ ^^^' m*"* ®» ^'^^'

In my last letter I mentioned General Conway's
motion : as soon as it had passed the House, a motion was
made for putting it into the form of an address, and carry-
ing it up to the Crown. An address was accordingly
carried up, to which the King answered, ** that the House
might be assured that, in pursuance to their desire, he
would take such measures as should appear to him to be
most conducive to the restoration of harmony between
Great Britain and the revolted Colonies." The day after
the motion passed, there were rejoicings in several places ;
the bells were rung, and a great many houses were illu-
minated ; and papers were cried about the streets, "

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152 LETTERS TO Mardi,

news for England — Lord North in the dumps, and peace
with America." The Ministers affected to take the sdarm,
and sent advice to the Lord Mayor, that they had notice
of intended riots ; but every thing was very peaceable, as»
I believe, everybody expected. The joy of this victory
over the Ministers was much damped by their still con-
tinuing in office. Lord North, a few days after when
pressed with his own declaration, did not scruple to say
he would stay in his place till the House voted that he
should be removed ; which may be fairly interpreted thus,
that as his administration had lasted in calamity to his
country, so it should end in utter disgrace to himself.
Since the success of his last motion, General Conway
moved the House to come to a resolution, " That whoever
should be hereafter concerned in advising, or by any
means attempting, the further prosecution of offensive
war on the Continent of North America, for the purpose
of reducing the revolted Colonies to obedience by
force, were declared and should be considered as enemies
to their King and country." The Ministry said the
motion was useless ; that when the House voted the
address, that implied a censure upon those who should
dare to disobey it: but the Ministry, probably feeling
their weakness, would not divide the House upon the
motion, and it passed. We have since received news
of the loss of Minorca and of St. Christopher's in the
West Indies. Some very important motion is to come on
to-day in the House of Commons ; it is said to be for a
total change of Ministers: in my next I will tell you the
fate of it.

I forgot to mention before, that the Attorney-General
has brought in a Bill preparatory to a peace with Ame-
rica. Charles Fox said, a few days ago, in the House,
that he knew peace with America might be had immedi-
ately ; that there were persons in Europe empowered by
the Congress to treat for peace ; and that he himself, as
much as he detested the Ministry, would, if they would
give him authority, negotiate with those men. Lord
North answered, that services so offered he disdained.

I am much surprised you thought anything in my

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. I53

letter worth communicating to M. de V6gobre. On the
subject of the Cross Elections he seems to think that
political energy is not essentially necessary in your com-
monwealth [Geneva], except in such a crisis as the pre-
sent ; and that such a crisis is not likely soon to recur.
He may be assured it never will recur if the citizens are
once unmanned and enervated. Perhaps I am mistaken ;
but it is my opinion that political indifi'erence must at all
times be mortal to a small republic. If the cross elections
do not produce the effect which I think most natural,
that of stifling all zeal for the people, they will be still
more dangerous to the peace of the community. A
demagogue in office is infinitely less dangerous than when
excluded and persecuted into importance* In office, the
demagogue is fettered by the known extent of his power,
his views are restrained and his proposals overruled by
his colleagues ; but when excluded and kept in a private
condition, he stands alone ; his power being illegal knows
no limits, and as he cannot take a single step without an
infringement of the constitution, as, to be active at all,
he must come under the animadversion of the law, he
little heeds how desperate may be his measures. Suppose
him to be actuated by the ambition of acquiring honours ;
which is wisest, to cut off the possibility of his gratifying
that ambition without the subversion of the state, or to
lure his attention from more dangerous objects by leaving
certain places in view, which, when he attains them,
disarm him of half his power ? When Wilkes was forced
into popularity by expulsions and exclusions from Parlia-
ment, his power over the populace was little less absolute
than that of eastern despots ; they yoked themselves like
slaves to his coach ; they rescued him out of the hands
of the ministers of justice ;• and, when afterwards he
voluntarily surrendered himself up, they besieged his
prison, and shed their blood in his cause : but the moment
he was admitted into the House of Commons, his power
fell to be that of a single vote in a small minority ; for
none of the talents which make a demagogue important
with the multitude have much influence in a senate.
What avails it ten members of a coimcil that each is a

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254 LETTERS TO Mareh.

Demosthenes in eloquence, in zea], and in patriotism, if
they have to oppose the silent votes of eleven pedestrian ^
senators ?

Adieu. Yours most affectionately,

S. R.

Lbttbr XIX.

Dear Roget, ^"^y'" ^°°' ***"* ^' *''^^*

Though I have received your and my dear Kitty's letter
of the 2nd of this month, I must postpone answering it, till
I have given you some account of the fortunate event which
has taken place here since the date of my last letter.

You may remember I then talked of a motion that
was to be made that day in the House of Commons, and
from which much was expected. The motion was for a
removal of the whole administration : it was lost by 226
votes against 216. The Friday following, another motion
was made, different in form, but the same in substance ;
that, too, was lost by 236 against 227. How the ministers
began already to tremble for their places you may judge by
the topics on which they were defended in the debate ; the
principal of which were, that the Ministers were not
the authors of the American war, which, it was admitted,
was the source of all our calamities : that that war was the
unavoidable consequence of measures adopted before any
of the present Ministers came into office, particularly the
Stamp Duty and the Declaratory Act: that to enforce
our right of taxation over the Americans was not a
project of the Ministers, but of the whole nation, expres-
sed by their representative, the House of Commons : that
if the present ministry were now to be removed, they
must be succeeded by men who entertained the most
dangerous and unconstitutional principles of government,
and who had pledged themselves to the nation to reduce
those principles into practice (for Charles Fox had pro-
tested a few days before, that, if ever he came into office,
he would act upon the same principles which he had

^ Roman senators who voted but did not speak were called
PedarUf from their expressing no opinion but with their feet.

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J782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. I55

always professed in opposition, and .that he should hold
any man who did otherwise in the most sovereign con-
tempt and abhorrence) : that we should soon see half the
boroughs in the kingdom stripped of their rights of election.
Parliaments made triennial or even annual, and the popu-
lace assembled to give their advice in matters of legisla-
tion and government : that unanimity was now more than
ever requisite : that it was unanimity to which we owed
all our success in the last war : that a change of ministers
ought to be effected, not by turning out one party and
bringing in another, which was to aggravate, not to heal
our divisions ; but by a coalition of all parties, who, uni-
ting cordially in the common cause, might destroy the
very name of opposition.

To all this it was answered, that the question was not
now who were the authors of the war, but whether, after
that scries of disasters and disgraces which had over-
whelmed us under the present administration, it was
proper to intrust them any longer with the conduct of
our affairs : that the sanction of Parliament, under which
the Ministers sought to shield themselves, had been ob-
tained by deceit and misrepresentation of our having in-
numerable friends in America, of all the powers of Eu-
rope being resolved to remain at peace, of the certainty of
our being always able to command a fleet equal to that of
the House of Bourbon : that whatever the political
principles of a new ministry, no innovation could be esta-
blished till after it had received, in the constitutional form,
the assent of the King and both Houses of Parliament ;
that unanimity was desirable, but not an unanimity obsti-
nately to pursue impracticable schemes of ambition, and
complete that ruin which was so far advanced: that the
unanimity of the last war was produced by no coalition,
but by discarding an obnoxious administration and form-
ing a new one agreeably to the wishes of the people : that
a coalition with the men now in office was impossible, for
what the nation required was, not a change of men, but
of system ; and that the government should no longer be
founded on corruption, but on the affections and confi-
dence of the people.

Upon this motion being lost, notice was given that

156 LETTERS TO Match,

another motion to the same effect would be made upon
the Wednesday following. On that day, accordingly, the
House met ; but, just as the motion was about to be made,
Lord North rose and informed the House that the busi-
ness they were going to proceed upon was quite un-
necessary, as the King had come to a resolution to change
all his ministers. He therefore moved that the House
might be adjourned to Monday (to-morrow), in order
that the new ministry might be properly arranged. We
are all very impatient to know who will compose this
new administration : I will send you a list of them if it
be settled before I close this letter, for it is greatly ap-
prehended that the House will be obliged to adjourn
again to-morrow.

I am not surprised that you so much admire Burke's
speech ; but, though it is somewhat cruel to tell you so,
it is far inferior to some of his later compositions, parti-
cularly to a speech made at Bristol at the last election,
in justification of his own conduct, which is perhaps the
first piece of oratory in our language. The passages
which you pointed out are those which I the most admire,
particularly that of General Conway's quitting t]xe House
of Commons after the repeal of the Stamp Act. Cer-
tainly never had any writer a more luxuriant imagination
than Burke ; he is more a poet than an orator ; but do
not you think that he indulges that poetical imagination
to a fault ? When he has once hold of a beautiful image,
he forgets that its only use is to illustrate ; the ornament
becomes with him the subject, and he employs many
phrases to decorate and enrich the figure, while the
matter of his speech is quite neglected. I think I could
point out several instances of this in the speech I sent
you^ if I had it before me. One I recollect in the
character of Lord Chatham's second administration, which
he calls a motley composition, a piece of joining work, a
tessellated pavement, making several other allusions of
the same kind ; and, in the very first words of his speech,,
where an orator ought surely to be very temperate in the
use of figures, having, in describing the uniformity of the

^ Barke'8 Speech on American Taxation, April 19. 1774.

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 15»j

arguments upon the American question, called it a circle,
he pursues the metaphor, and says " we have been lashed
round it till our heads are g:iddy and our stomachs nauseate."
The imagination of Burke properly restrained, and united
to the force and irresistible reasoning of Fox, would form
a perfect orator as to composition ; for in delivery they
are both defective. The account of the European settle-
ments was written when Burke was a very young man ;
though it certainly bears no marks of being a juvenile
performance. However, I should suppose he is much
less to be relied on than Robertson, who everywhere cites
his authorities. You certainly could not read, without
being much struck with, A Description of the Feast of the
Dead ^ extracted from Lafitau. When I read it, it recalled
to my mind a passage of one of Saurin's sermons, where,
upon occasion of the title of a book, Rome Souterraine, he
carries his hearers into the subterranean world, the regions
of the dead as they lie scattered there in all the various
stages of corruption. Do you know Lafitau's book? I
should be curious to see it from Burke's commendation
of it.

You ask whether I do not think there may be circum-
stances in which an Englishman should begin his political
career by a solemn engagement never to accept of any
place. I think there hardly can be any circumstances in
which such an engagement would not, in a man of great
abilities, be culpable. In one of an inferior capacity it is
indifferent whether he make such a declaration or not ;
for, though his integrity admit not of the remotest suspi-
cion, his opinions will have very little weight. We have
an instance of this in Sawbridge, who has done exactly
what you mention, solemnly professed that he will never
come into oflfice ; but who seldom speaks in the House,
and never commands attention. When a man is endowed
with very distinguished talents, there can be no question
that he owes the utmost exertion of them to his country ;
and you certainly know too much of our politics to think
that he can render his country the hundredth part of that

^ Burke's Account of the European Settlements in America, vol. i«
p. 225.

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158 LinTERS TO March,

service in opposition that he can in administration. In
politics, above all things, I think it the highest imprudence
to bind one's self down to any determinate rule of action,
except that supreme rule of conforming one's self in all
things to the dictates of virtue and to the public good.
Imagine a Chatham having, in the days of his coimtry's
prosperity, bound himself by such a vow as you allude to.
Suppose, after the lapse of some years, his country brought
to the verge of ruin ; the ministers driven from the helm
by public indignation ; and every honest man deterred,
by the dangers to be encountered^ from venturing to take
their place. What is he to do, who by the suicide of his
incomparable talents has made himself useless to his
country ? A second Jephthah, he would have to choose
between perjury and parricide. I very much doubt such
an engagement having the good effects you seem to ex-
pect from it. To men of honest minds, who cannot easily
bring themselves to think that others have no nobler mo-
tives for their public actions than their private interest, it
would be superfluous ; and the envious and suspicious
would not be debarred every means of misconstruction,
even by such an engagement. It would still remain for
them to doubt its sincerity, however solemn it was ; or to
allege, as you have heard it alleged at Geneva, that, the
ambition of riches and titles removed, there still remained
the more captivating ambition of fame and popularity.

26th March.— Yesterday morning nothing was known
of the new ministry. The Parliament, however, met, and
it is said that an announcement was there made of all the
members of the new administration ; but no business was
done, for I was there at four o'clock, and both houses were
adjourned.^ I am, dear Roget, &c. &c.,

Saml. Romilly.

^ On the 25th of March, 1782, Lord North's adminiBtration was
replaced by that of Lord Rockingham, in which Lord Shelbume
and Charles Fox were the secretaries. On the 1st of July Lord
Rockingham died, and a few days after Fox resigned his office.
Lord Shelbume then became prime minister, Lord Grantham and
T. Townshend secretaries, and William Pitt chancellor of the
exchequer. This ministry was succeeded early in 1783 by the
coalition ministry, in which Lord North and Charles Fox were ^e
two secretaries.

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 159

Lettee XX.

Gray's Inn, April 12, 1782.

The news of the change of ministry will, I hope, my
dear Roget, have revived your spirits, and disposed you
not to think any longer that we can expect a peace but
from the generosity of our enemies. Not that I am yet
very confident in my expectations ; one may almost doubt
whether things have not gone too far to be retrieved, even
hy such superior talents as are found united in the new
administration.

Lord North has had two places, which he held only
during pleasure, settled on him for life ; so that you may
judge he is not very much chagrined at being displaced.
He attends regularly in the House of Commons as a pri-
vate member of Parliament. In private company the
other day he said, that the Opposition who had always
complained of his publishing lying Gazettes, were no
sooner in office than they set off with a Gazette more full
of lies than any of his had been, for it contained a string
of paragraphs, each beginning, " His Majesty has been
pleased to appoint," &c., when it is certain that the King
was not pleased at any one of those appointments. It
Tvould amuse you to see how most of the pensioned news-
papers have changed their style ; they now pay assiduous
court, with compliments and panegyrics, to the men
whom a few weeks ago they constantly persecuted with
libels and lampoons. We hear of nothing but the public
savings they are to make, of the peace we are to have with
America, and of the peace with Holland.

It is generally imagined that the new ministry will meet
with no opposition of any kind in Parliament. Out of it,
indeed, there is an impotent attempt to oppose them.
Lord George Gordon is endeavouring again to poison the
minds of the public by dispersing handbills, in which he
has not unsuccessfully imitated the style of the Puritans
of the last century. He inveighs against the new mi-

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150 LETTERS TO April,

nisters; says that they are no better than their prede-
cessors ; that they are despised by the public ; that Fox
is a Papist; that the present disturbances in Ireland
are to be imputed to the toleration of Catholics ; and
laments that no person moved to amend the resolution
proposed to the House, "that the Ministers had lost the
confidence of the people," by adding, " and the Oppo-
sition have not found it."

Are you not very curious to know what will be the first
measures of the new administration ? Is it not too much
to expect they should perform literally all they promised
when in opposition ? Will Fox, agreeably to his promise,
impeach Lord Sandwich, even though he may now find
affairs of more pressing importance on his hands ; or is
not this another instance of the imprudence of not leav-
ing one's future political conduct free ? The Ministers
seem likely, at the very commencement of their admi-
nistration, to have great diflSlculties to encounter in the
affairs of Ireland. You' know the Irish have long talked
of throwing off the supremacy of Great Britain. A mo-
tion for that purpose has been made this Session in the
Irish Parliament, but lost by a very great majority, since
which the different associations in Ireland have come to
resolutions to assert their independence. This has been
followed by tumults at Dublin ; Lord Carlisle, the Lord
Lieutenant, has not dared to stir out of his castle, and
Eden, his Secretary, was near receiving personal violence
from the populace as he was setting off for England.
The object of his journey was to bring Lord Carlisle's
resignation of his vice-royalty, and to represent to the
Ministers the state of affairs in Ireland ; but, on his ar-
rival here, he found the ministry changed. Lord Carlisle
deprived of the honorary oflSce of Lord Lieutenant of the
East Riding of the county of York (which was now re-
stored to the Marquis of Carmarthen, from whom it had
been taken two years ago because that nobleman pre-
sumed to vote with the Opposition), and deprived of the
vice-royalty of Ireland, which was now conferred on the
Duke of Portland. Piqued at this affront, as he considered
it, to Lord Carlisle, he refused to give the Secretaries of

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1782. THE KEV. JOHN ROGET. jgl

State any information, but told them he should, on the first
day of the Common's meeting (for they were then ad-
journed), make, a motion relative to the affairs of Ireland.
Accordingly, last Monday, he moved to repeal a clause in
an Act of George I., which declares the supremacy of the
British over the Irish legislature. The Ministers, par-
ticularly Fox, complained loudly of the very uncandid
manner in which Eden had behaved. They said that,
for themselves, having no information of the state of
affairs in Ireland, or of that people's demands, they could
not judge how far the measure proposed wa» proper, but
that it seemed, like all the measures of the late ministers,
designed to palliate, not eradicate the evil ; that the pre-
sent ministers intended to make such a settlement of the
affairs of Ireland as should be agreeable to both countries,
and remove all fears and jealousies for the future. Eden
was desired by a number of members to withdraw his
motion; for a long time he refused; General Conway
talked of moving a vote of censure on him ; at last he
complied with the wishes of the House. Fox, in the
course of his speech, said that, if the motion were per-
sisted in, he should be obliged to move for the order of
the day, though he should be sorry to do it, for then the
House must adjourn immediately; and he wished that,
on the very first day <rf their meeting under the' new
administration, something might be done towards that
reformation which they had promised. Accordingly, after
this business was over, a motion was made for leave to
bring in a Bill to exclude all persons concerned in col-
lecting the customs or excise from giving their votes at
elections. In another part of his speech Fox said, that
since he and his colleagues had come into ofSce, they had
found many more instances of the shameful neglect and
mismanagement of the late ministers even than they had
suspected; such instances of mismanagement as would
render public inquiries on the subject necessary. So
much for politics.

Yours affectionately,
S. R.

YOL. I. M

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IQ2 LETTERS TO May,

Letter XXI.

6ray*s Inn. May 20, 1782.

I always write to you, my dear Roget, on the sup-
position that you take as much interest as ever in English
politics ; and certainly, if you were at all changed in that
respect, these letters must be very dry and unentertain-
ing ; but I cannot suppose you are ; and the present situ-
ation of our a&irs should rather increase than abate your
curiosity.

I mentioned to you in my last letter the object and the
fate of Mr. William Pitt's motion^ ; it remains to give you
some account of his speech, and of the arguments used in
opposition to the measure. The account you have had in
the Courrier de r Europe has, I suppose, been very in-
different; as the Parliamentary intelligence of that paper
is borrowed from the English newspapers, and in them
there have been but very imperfect accounts of that de-
bate, for the fame of Mr. Pitt's eloquence had drawn such
a crowd down to the House that many of the news-writers
could not get in. I was more fortunate.

Mr. Pitt began by establishing as propositions which
could not be controverted, first, that every free state, to
maintain its liberty and the vigour of its constitution, must
be frequently brought back to its original principles ; and
next, that the English constitution has departed widely
from the principles on which it was originally founded,
inasmuch as the House of Commons, which ought to be
the representative of the people of Great Britain, waa
become a partial representation, having no connexion
with the people at large, and from which the sense of
the nation could not be collected. He then went on to
this effect:— ''That this is so cannot be disputed; we all
know it by reason, we all know it much more feelingly
by fatal experience ; we have all been the melancholy

^ In favour of parliamentary reform.

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178S. THE BEV. JOHN BOGET. 153

witnesses of a war carried on obstinately and ruinously
against the sense of the nation, but with the approbation
and support of Parliament. We have seen ministers,
obnoxious and hateful to the nation, retained in their
places by Parliament, in the nation's despite ; and plans
of economy, brought forward in consequence of the
people's demands, and supported by their earnest pe-
titions, rejected with scorn by Parliament. We all know
that many of the constituents who send members to this
House are not men zealous for the honour and happi-
ness of their country, but venal electors, who carry ti]«ir
votes — the noblest privilege of Englishmen— to market,
like some vile and contemptible commodity ; not populous
and commercial towns, but miserable boroughs, the drains
of all that ill-got wealth which from the East pours in upon
us like a deluge. After having seen all this, all these fatal
symptoms of the approaching ruin of a state, can it be
doubted that the original principles of this constitution
are lost ? Nay, it is past all doubt ; our shame and our
misfortunes cannot be dissembled. This House is not the
representative of the people of Great Britain ; it is the
representative of nominal boroughs, of ruined and exter-
minated towns, of noble families, of wealthy individuals,
of foreign potentates ; and this is surely the most to be
dreaded of all the misfortunes that can befall a nation,
for there can be no stronger symptom of the approaching
dissolution of a state than that foreigners have gained an
interest and an ascendant in the national council. Our
laws have, with a jealous care, provided that no foreigner
shall give a single vote for a representative in Parliament ;
and yet we now see foreign princes, not giving votes, but
purchasing seats in this House, and sending their agents
to sit with us as representatives of the nation. No man
can doubt what I allude to. We have sitting among us
the members of the Rajah of Tanjore, and the Nabob of
Arcot, the representatives of petty Eastern despots ; and
this is a thing notorious, publicly talked of, and heard
with indifference ; our shame stalks abroad in the open
face of day, it is become too common even to excite sur-
prise. We treat it as a matter of small importance that

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2g4 LETTERS TO May,

some of the electors of Great Britain have added treason
to their corruption, and have traitorously sold their votes
to foreign powers; that some of the members of our
senate are at the command of a distant tyrant ; that our
senators are no longer the representatives of British
virtue, but of the vices and pollutions of the East.'* He
then strongly recommended a reform of the represent-
ation, as the only effectual means to restrain the influence
of the Crown, which had lately manifested itself with
such dreadful symptoms, and which had brought the
nation to the verge of ruin.

The speakers against the motion insisted on the danger
of innovation in a constitution, which had ever been
the boast of this country, and the admiration and envy
of all others. They urged that, in matters of government,
visionary projects could not be put to trial innocently;
for a failure of success might involve a whole nation in
anarchy and confusion ; that to vote for the motion was,
in effect, to open a wide field for innovation of every
kind : it was no less than, by destroying the old consti-
tution, to dissolve all the bands of government, to reduce
men to the primeval state of nature, and to prompt every
individual to propose such a form of government as the
wildness of a luxuriant imagination, or the frenzy of ig-
norant enthusiasm, might suggest : that though the mo-
tion did not directly propose a general representation of
the people, yet it must necessarily hold out that idea to
the pubhc ; it would raise among them mighty expect-
ations, which must end in disappointment and apparent
deceit, because a general representation is a thing abso-
lutely impracticable: that nothing could be more dan-
gerous than to infuse into the people's minds vast ex-
pectations of franchises and privileges, which, by frequent
and habitual reflection, they woidd come to consider as
their undoubted rights, and as such would think them-
selves justified to assert and contend for: that this in*
convenience would arise from the mode in which the
measure was proposed, — the motion did not offer any
specific plan, whi^h might be canvassed and duly con-
sidered, and pas8e4 or rejected ac4M>rding to its merits or

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. Ig5

defects ; but generally it pledged the House to do some-
thing upon the subject without ascertaining what ; thus
leaving it to the people to imagine, as they should please,
what it was the House was bound to do, and then to ac-
cuse it of deceit if the new-modelled representation did
not come up to the wild expectations of every hardy
reformer : that no time could be more improper for such
a motion than the present, at a moment the most perilous
this country had ever known ; when we were surrounded
by enemies, when the greatest exertions were necessary,
and when (as Mr. Fox had lately declared) ten times the
ability of the Ministers would not be more than was
requisite for the salvation of the country. At such a time,
instead of fixing all our attention on our own defence,
and on the annoyance of the enemy, the bands of go-
vernment are to be dissolved, a new constitution is to be
formed, visionary schemes of perfection are to be de-
bated. Will the measure proposed help, in any degree,
to extricate us from our difficulties ? Will it strengthen
the hands of the Ministers ? Will it weaken our enemies ?
Will it give us allies ? Will it supply our navy with one
ship, or our army mth a single man? If not, let us save
the country from the dangers which threaten it on every
side, and then aim at its political perfection. But it is
said that a more equal representation is the only eiFectual
remedy that can be found against the influence of the
Crown, and that it is to that influence over Parliament
that we owe all our present calamities. If this be so, why
did that influence never appear with such dreadful effects
before? Is' the representation different? Is it more
unequal than it was? Nay, it never has been altered
from the time of Charles II. It was what it is now
during all the illustrious reign of King William, at the
time of our immortal victories under Queen Anne, dur-
ing our unrivalled greatness in the last war. Where has
this baneful influence lurked during all this long period ?
Either an unequal representation is not the cause of in-
fluence in the Crown, or that influence cannot be very
fatal to the strength, the happiness, or the glory of a
nation, which, under its shadow, can flourish at home,

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156 LETTERS TO May,

gain victories abroad, and rise to be an object of uni-
versal terror and envy. — As I suppose the answers to
all these arguments will present themselves directly to
your mind, I shall not dwell any longer on the subject
than to say that Charles Fox supported the motion with
all his force.

I turn abruptly from one subject to another ; but you
do not, I hope, expect method in my letters.

The more I reflect on the reasoning of the atheists of
France, the more I wonder at their absurdity. I cannot
forgive them that, not content with starting doubts, they
are for utterly destroying everything that falls not under
the notice of the senses, which they preposterously regard
as unerring, nay, as the only guides to truth. Wholly
absorbed themselves in matter, they will allow nothing
else to have existence. Do you not think that the ab-
surdity of their reasonings on this subject might be piit
in a very strong light by the fable of some imaginary
island, not unlike those one meets with in the Travels
of Gulliver f An island, suppose, inhabited by none but
blind men, who should have a traditionary religion which
taught them to believe, that if they observed all their
natural duties to God, themselves, and their fellow-crea-
tures, they should be rewarded, at some future time, with
the gift of a fifth sense; a sense which would open
to them enjoyments which, in their present imperfect
state, they had not capacities to conceive; a sense by
which they would, as it were, feel things at a prodigious
distance, which would enable the soul to expatiate, as it
were, apart from the body, to soar into vast regions of
space above their heads, and to contemplate thousands of
celestial luminaries which were placed there ; in a word,
which would make them infinitely happier than they then
were, though it was impossible to give them any clear
notion of that happiness. With this tradition, and this
prospect before them of unknown joys, they may be sup-
posed to have long lived happy and virtuous, tUl there
arose among them a sect of philosophers, who captiously
scrutinized these religious doctrines, and ridiculed the
believers of them, who demanded proof that these pre-

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1782. THE REV. JOHN B06ET. Igf

tended future blessings were not imaginary. Prove, said
they» that the soul, which is clearly inseparable from the
body, and reaches no farther than the extension of the
body, can otherwise than by the hearing know what is
passing at a distance from it How shake off this material
frame, and wander into superior regions ? If not, how
feel at a distance ? Are men to be equipped with organs
of feeling that shall reach miles ? Must not they obstruct
one another? &c. &c. One might thus, to prove the im-
possibility of there being a fifth sense, employ similar
arguments to those which our dogmatizing philosophers
use to prove the impossibility of the soul's existing apart
from the body, or rather to prove the non-existence of
spirit, because it falls not under the notice of the senses.
But you laugh, perhaps, at this ridiculous cx>nceit of mine.

Lbttee XXII.

Ony's Inn, June 11, 1782.

Your last letter, my dear Roget, put me a little out of
humour with you, not because it followed so quickly upon
its predecessor, but because it began with an apology for
such diligence, as if I did not always, when I had read
one of your letters, begin to be impatient for anotlier, and
count the days until it should arrive.

You have heard before this time all the particulars of
Rodney's victory over De Grasse, and you perceive un-
doubtedly the very great advantages resulting from it ;
that, besides depriving the enemy of eight line-of-battle
ships, it has frustrated all their designs upon Jamaica,
and will probably enable us to recover many of our
islands. The thanks of both Houses of Parliament have
been voted to Rodney ; they have likewise been voted to
the other admirals and captains who were in the engage-
ment, and to every common seaman on board the fleet.
A monument, too, is to be erected in Westminster Abbey to ,
Lord Robert Manners, and two other officers who were
killed in the action. Rodney has, besides, been made an
English Peer, and Admiral Hood, who commanded under
him, a Peer of Ireland. Rodney, however, was recalled,

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Igg LETTERS TO Jane,

and Admiral Piggot sent to supersede him, before the
news of the late victory arrived here ; and the Ministers
have not since sent to countermand Rodney's recall. In
all this they have, in my opinion, done exceedingly right ;
they did well to recall him ; and to have afterwards counter-
manded his recall must have made them appear ridiculous
and contemptible, as if they were wholly uncertain and
undecided in their measures. However, this step of re-
calling Rodney has displeased many people, and raised
something like an opposition to the Ministry. You have
seen an account of the debates upon this subject, I sup-
pose, in the newspapers. A motion of censure was
offered to the House, but not made, and the speakers
against the Ministry were very few. Governor John-
stone was the most violent. You recollect him, I sup-
pose ; he went out as one of the Commissioners to Ame«
rica. In the character of a warm friend of Rodney, he
has delivered two philippics against the Ministry, in
which he styles the recall of Rodney a disgrace, and
the moving of thanks to him by Fox an insult ; because
Fox and Burke had said that, though they thought Rodney
deserved great thanks and rewards from his grateful
country, yet they could not change their opinion of what
had happened at St. Eustatius from anything he had
done since ; that they thought, however, that the nation
ought entirely to forget the transaction at St. Eustatius,
and drop all inquiries into it ; all the errors of Rodney
were hidden under the trophies he had won from France.
But this. Governor Johnstone said, he would never agree
to : he defied the Ministers to prosecute the inquiry which
was afoot; he would agree to no compromise ; his gallant
friend would never consent to be dressed up with honours
and titles, while the world was made to believe that he
was a plunderer and a corsair. Don't you think it would
have been a more friendly part to have left it to Rodney
to determine about this matter for himself ; especially as
the Admiral seems to.be so little anxious to have the
inquiry prosecuted, that this very session he voted in
person against its being gone into by the House ? Lord
North made a kind of speech which is very usual with

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. Igg

him ; uncertain, undecided ; wishing, but not daring to
join in opposition ; saying that he should vote against the
motion, but exhausting his invention to find arguments
in its support; and saying he was sure such a motion
would have been made against him, had such a measure
as the recall of Rodney been adopted in his administration.
Fox answered with a degree of warmth and indignation
which a cooler politician than myself would blame; he
bade Lord North speak his sentiments boldly, and not,
with an affectation of candour and delicacy, vote against
a motion which he sought obliquely to recommend to
the House. Fox seemed to despise the man, and to scorn
his assistance, and indeed,

'' Non tali auxilio, nee defeoBoribus istis
Tempu»egct."»

But if it is impolitic to provoke enemies by such warm
language, it is surely much more so to irritate them by
the severity of sarcasm . When Governor Johnstone com-
plained that Fox was an improper person to move the
thanks of the House to Rodney, Fox said that he was
actuated only by zeal for the public, and promised to
move the thanks of the House even to Governor John-
stone, if ever he should render any service to his country.
And again, when Johnstone, giving an account of his
being himself employed by the late ministry, said that he
was applied to to command an expedition to South Ame-
rica to foment a rebellion that was said to have broken
out there, but that at first he refused it, as not thinking
himself equal to such an expedition. Fox observed that
he was much too modest when he supposed himself not
qualified to excite seditions and rebellions in the domin-
ions of any Prince upon the earth. Are not these the
"facetifiB asperse, quae acrem sui memoriam relinquunt ?"«

By Rodney's being created a Peer, his seat in Parlia-
ment is become vacant Hood has been proposed to
succeed him; but the Westminster committee have
named another candidate. This opposition to Hood is said

1 Viigil. iEn. ii. 621, 622.
« Tac. Ann. xv. 68.

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JiJO LETTEBS TO June,

to be ungenerous and ungrateful ; but why, is more than
I can tell, unless a seat in Parliament is to be considered
merely as a reward, a titular dignity; or unless it be
proved that the same qualities are requisite to make a
good senator as to constitute a brave admiral. What
man, who was engaged in a lawsuit, would, out of grati-
tude to Hood, take him for his advocate ? and yet that
would be as reasonable as making him a member of
Parliament, only because he fights well ; besides that it
is impossible he should do his duty as a member of
Parliament, without giving up that station in which he is
so much better calculated to serve his country.

No material change has yet been made in our constitu-
tion. Sawbridge has made his motion for shortening
the duration of Parliament, but it was lost by a great
majority. If the Ministry are sincere in their desire to
bring about the great changes that have been talked of,
they must dissolve the Parliament ; and a dissolution is what
I fully expect, although it does not seem to be generally
thought of. So much for politics, with which I fear I
have very much tired you.

What I mentioned that I had written about Geneva
has been printed : I will send it to you by the first op-
portunity, though I should be sorry it were seen at
Geneva, for this among other reasons, that it might in
some measure (what above all things I wish to avoid)
influence the conduct of the citizens ; for the opinions of
the obscurest individual, when they appear in public, are
often mistaken by foreigners for the opinions of a nation.

Pray continue to be very particular about the affiurs
of Geneva, whose patriots I regard more as my country-
men than all the literati in the world. But I must
answer my dear sister, so adieu with more than fraternal
affection.

S. R.

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1782. THE REV, JOHN &OGET. |71

Letter XXIII.

Oray*B Inn. July 16, 1782.

Your letter of the 29th of June left me, my dear
Roget, in very anxious suspense about the fate of Geneva.
The news I have since heard of the city's opening its
gates has relieved my mind from many of the horrors
which I began to paint to myself; but I still wait with
impatience for the circumstantial account of this event»
which I hope you have sent me, before I determine with
myself whether to rejoice even at the restoration of peace,
and the sparing of many precious lives.

The news I have to send you from hence is not of a na-
ture to afford you any consolation for the misfortunes of
Geneva. The fair prospect which the change of the mi-
nistry opened to us is at present very much overcast No
doubt, you have heard of the death of the Marquis of
Rockingham, and of the unhappy division among our Mi-
nisters which followed that event. Fox, Burke, Lord
John Cavendish, and Lee the Solicitor-General, have all
resigned ; and Keppel, it is expected, will very shortly
follow their example. O n the first day of the Parliament's
meeting after this political schism, the expectation that
Fox would explain the motives of the step he had taken
drew an uncommon crowd to the House of Commons. I
was fortunate enough to be carried along with those who
forced their way into the House, so that you may depend
on the account I send you.

The business began by Mr. Coke, a very independent
county member, moving a vote of censure against the Mi-
nistry for having granted a pension of 3200/. a-year to
Colonel Barrg, which is to take place whenever he shall
be out of office ; a pension which has been hurried through
the House with unusual expedition, that it might be be-
forehand with the Bill for the Reform of the Civil List
Expenditure, because that Bill provides that no pension
shall be granted for more than 300/. a-year, and that all
the pensions in any one year shall not amount to more

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1 72 LETTERS TO July.

than 600/. This very culpable measure (for as such
I must consider it) was but weakly defended by an
exaggerated representation of the great services which
Colonel Barr6 has rendered his country, and by an enu-
meration of the honourable and lucrative employments of
which the persecution of the late ministry deprived him ;
and it was very soon quite forgotten in the more important
discussion which the debate produced. For, when a
member of the late administration drew a comparison be-
tween them and their successors, each being, as he pre-
tended, alike eager to enrich their friends, and alike dis-
united in opinion. Fox rose and denied that it was true that
he and his friends, when in opposition, had ever blamed
any of the late ministers for differing in opinion from
their colleagues, but said that they had blamed those who,
though divided in opinion and disapproving the political
system they saw adopted, were still mean enough to con-
tinue in place, and, through the criminal dread of losing
the emoluments of office, lent their name and authority to
measures which they knew threatened inevitable destruc-
tion to their country ; that, for himself^ he disdained such
conduct, and no sooner had he seen the political system
of the last ministry likely to be revived by the present,
than he had resigned. This called up General Conway to
declare that he saw no symptoms of any renewal by the
present adHiinistration of the ancient system ; he said that
he understood the principles upon which the present ad-
ministration had come into place to be these: — 1. That
the independence of America should be made the basis of
a peace. 2. That economy should be observed in every
department of the State. 3. That the influence of the
Crown should be diminished. 4. That Ireland's depend-
ence on the British Parliament should be preserved in-
violate, as it had lately been established. These, he said,
he believed to be the political principles of the whole
administration ; he was sure they were his own ; he never
would forsake them ; and the moment he saw them aban-
doned by his present colleagues he would stand forth, he
pledged himself, as one of the warmest members of oppo-
sition. What were Mr. Fox's motives for resigning, Ge-

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 1>J3

neral Conway said, he did not know. The opinion he
entertained about the necessity of making America inde-
pendent diifered so little from the sentiments of other
members of the Council, that to himself it appeared to be
only a subtle distinction, merely a shade of difference in
opinion.

This declaration led Fox into a general explanation of
his conduct in a speech an hour and a half long, delivered
with more than his usual eloquence. The sum of what
he said is shortly this : that his opinions have been over-
ruled at the Council. on several subjects, particularly re-
specting the independence of America. What the dif-
ference exactly consisted in he did not explain, because,
he said, that if he were to speak without reserve, it would
be said that he had transported to America suspicions to
which the Americans had before been strangers, and
made them more exacting in their demands than they
would otherwise have been. He declared that he should
not be surprised to see the war revived in America on
its original plan. As to what Conway had laid down as
the principles of the administration, they were principles
which he had never heard of before, and which, if really
adopted by the Ministry, had been adopted since he had
retired, and justified his resignation ; for they showed that
he had much more weight at the Council out of adminis-
tration than in it. He then mentioned the backward-
ness of the Ministry to correct and punish the abuses and
peculations that have been committed in the East Indies ;
and said that, finding his opinion always overruled at the
Council table, he had formerly signified to his colleagues,
before the death of Lord Rockingham, that he should re-
sign ; a step which he would have takeiUmmediately, had
he not feared it might affect the declining health of that
nobleman. But when Lord Rockingham died, and Lord
Shelburne was made First Lord of the Treasury, he was
then confirmed in his resolution, and immediately resigned.
Since that promotion, he said, the administration was no
longer that which the Parliament and the nation had
brought in ; that, for himself, he had not the least confi-
dence in the present administration ; and that he had, as

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1IJ4 LETTERS TO July,

was his duty, resigned : that he had made a very great
sacrifice : that he did not affect such a stoic indifference
for what all the rest of the world earnestly aspired to as to
pretend that he had, without regret, resigned high dis-
tinctions of fortune, power, honour, and glory ; hut he did
not hesitate a moment to give up all these advantages,
and, what he prized ahove them all, near political connex-
ion with those he was most united to hy blood and affec-
tion (meaning the Duke of Richmond, who stays in),
rather than submit to the treachery and infamy of con-
tinuing in office, and patronising by his name an adminis-
tration and its measures which in his conscience he
disapproved, and believed dangerous and fatal to the
country. He then prophesied that all the real friends of
the constitution and of the people would soon be in oppo-
sition again, and that Lord Shelbume would be in admi-
nistration with all the old ministers.

Burke spoke against the appointment of the First Lord
of the Treasury. He exclaimed with uncommon warmth
(uncommon rage I should rather say), that he had no
confidence in the administration, constituted as it now
was; that he saw in them, indeed, ** satis eloquentitie sed
sapientiue parum ;'' that in his soul he believed the
Government was more safely intrusted to the hands of
the late ministry ; that the country was sold, betrayed, and
ruined; that his own conduct in resigning could not
appear interested, for it was certainly most prejudicial to
his fortime, most adverse and repugnant to his nature ; that
his disposition was an attachment to business, a desire to
exert his little talents to the utmost for his country, to
promote the public good, and assist in the public business';
that, by a strange fatality, he had been doomed to pass
his days in opposition, and now, after three months spent
in a manner congenial to his nature, he found himself
condemned to pursue, during the remainder of his life,
the same unprofitable course that he had formerly taken,

William Pitt answered Burke and Fox in severe terms ;
said that their great talents ought to be considered at this
time as public property, and that to withhold their assiat-
ance from the public at a time when it stood so much in

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 2'J5

need of them was a species of treachery. To him, he said,
the dispute between the Ministers appeared to be only a
contest for power.

The new promotions are as follows :— Lord Shelburne,
First Lord of the Treasury; William Pitt, Chancellor of
the Exchequer ; Thomas Townshend, and Lord Grantham,
who was lately ambassador at Madrid, Secretaries of State ;
Sir George Youug, Secretary at War.

The Americans liave refused to enter into any separate
negotiation, so that peace seems much more distant than
we hoped. To this bad news must be added the loss of the
Bahama Islands. But let us quit this ungrateful subject.
Adieu. Love to our dear Kitty.

S. R.

Lbtter XXIV.

Gny'8 Inn. July 26, 17^.

I am not to expect then, my dear Roget, any more
letters from you on the melancholy subject of Geneva.
The few words which my dear sister inclosed for me in
her last letter, too fully confirm all the fatal intelligence
we h^ before received. The warm interest which you
know I took in the cause of your fellow- citizens will have
enabled you to conceive the concern I feel at the issue of
their affairs. I lament it, too, from a more general con*
sideration ; for I do not doubt that the conduct of the
pretended patriots of Geneva will be remembered here*
after by the advocates for arbitrary power ; who, when
they find the arguments by which the people's cause is
defended unanswerable, betake themselves to an attack
upon its defenders, and triumph in showing the insincerity
and selfishness of seditious demagogues. Thus are the
people alike the victims of the treachery of their pre-
tended friends and of the tyranny of their open enemies.
I am less astonished at the want of public virtue and pa-
triotism, which has appeared in the chiefs of the Repre-
sentantSf than at their folly and inattention to their private
interests. For, admitting that they were careless about

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276 LETTERS TO July,

the honour and freedom of their country, surely pruden-
tial and interested considerations alone might have in-
duced them to risk their lives in defence of their own
fortunes, their character and consideration in their
country, rather than to preserve, at any rate, a miserable
existence, embittered by the reproaches of their own con-
sciences, and the contempt of mankind, —

** Et propter vitam viTendi perdere causas.'* '

My dear sister gives me room to hope that she will
write me a detailed account of this melancholy catastrophe.
I am the more desirous of this, as I think of continuing
my account of the affairs of Geneva, not (undoubtedly)
with a view to its appearing in any publication, but
merely as an exercise and a matter of instruction and im-
provement to myself.

What do you think of the Abb6 St. Pierre's project of
perpetual peace, and Rousseau s observations on it ? * A
mi^ch stronger objection might, I think, be made to the
proposal than either of those writers have foreseen and
answered, which is, that the ultimate consequence of in-
stituting, as supreme arbitrator of all the affairs of Eii-
rope, a Diet, of which the majority would be the repre-
sentatives of arbitrary princes, must be the total extirpa-
tion of liberty. For the internal political disputes of
every country must be submitted to the decision of the
Diet, there being no other alternative but an appeal to
war ; and the project supposes war never to be made but
by the whole confederacy. To explain my meaning
better — Suppose the project to be adopted, and a general
European confederacy to be formed ; a dispute arises in
England between the Crown and the Commons about
the extent of the royal prerogative ; and the king and the
people are both alike inflexible in their pretensions.
The confederates, who are the guarantees of each national
constitution, must be recurred to, to decide the contest ;
and, no doubt, the weight of royal influence, the necessary

Juvenal. Sat. viii. 84..
* Entitled Jugement gur lit Pair perpetwUe,, and published with
Rousseau^s political works.

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET.

ignorance of the judges with respect to our constitution,
and the despotic principles of government prevalent in
their own states, will render their decision favourable to
the^King. Nor is it any answer to this objection to say,
that the confederates are guarantees of every distinct con-
stitution of government, such as it exists at the time that
the confederacy was formed ; because in disputes between
different members of a government, the question always
is, what is the constitution ? and every ambitious prince
has prudence enough to cover his encroachments, and
the stretches of his power, with the name of the exercise
of his constitutional prerogative. Besides it may often
happen, from a change in the character and manners of a
nation, that to maintain its present constitution ift to de-
stroy its liberties ; witness England at this moment; or
granting that the confederacy should violate the first
principle on which it was formed, who shall take advan-
tage of the violation and refuse obedience to its decrees ?
Shall a populace, unxised to arms, and ignorant of disci-
pline, array themselves for war against a league of all the
powers of Europe ? There would be nothing then to re-
strain the general diet from deciding every contest for the
prince and against his subjects. One victory of this
kind would encourage the prince to excite fresh troubles
which must be brought before the same partial tribunal,
and the example would soon become general. It is ab-
surd, as Rousseau says, to imagine, that, if the project
took place, many of the confederate princes would \mite
their forces for the purpose of making conquests ; but it
is not absurd to suppose that they would unite their
counsels in order to extend their authority over their sub-
jects : and it would be to be dreaiied that not only princes
but even aristocratical governments would join in this
cruel policy, by turns assisting each other to become the
tyrants of their country. The evil would be without the
possibility of a remedy ; for what would it avail a country
that she had many Brutuses among her sons, if their
virtue was overawed and rendered useless by a mighty
league of all Europe, firmly resolved " ut e conspectu ' li-

TOL. I. N

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1*73 LETTERS TO Oct.

bertas tolleretur ? ''^ Whether Europe would not be com-
pensated for the loss of liberty in the very few states that
stDl retain any shadow of it, by having war banished from
all its quarters, is a question which I should not hesitate
to decide by saying " Mihi potior visa est periculosa liber-
tas quieto servitio." * But it is time to put an end to this
long dissertation.

Adieu ! believe me, &c.,

SaML. ROMILLY.

Letter XXV.

Gray's Inn. Oct. 25, 1782.

I was obliged to send my last letter to you, my
dear Roget, in so great a hurry, that I had not time to
read over what I had written. I hope, however, you
were able to make it out. From that time till the pre-
sent moment I have never had leisure to write to you,
and the hour which I now devote to you is stolen from
occupations which, compared to anything that I had less
at heart than writing to yourself, I should think neces-
sary. All this is not so much to apologize (for apologies
to you would be Dl placed) as to account for my silence,
and to prevent your being uneasy whenever I am thus
forced to interrupt our correspondence. Do not ima-
gine, by my seeming to be thus immersed in business,
that I am yet called to the bar. I cannot be caUed be-
fore six months ; and a just diffidence, or rather know-
ledge of myself, will make me postpone it for six months
longer. Indeed, the nearer I approach the term» which
I have formerly so often wished for, the more I dread it.
I sometimes lose all courage, and wonder what fond
opinion of my talents could ever have induced me to
venture on so bold an undertaking; but it too often
happens (and I fear that has been my case), that men
mistake the desire for the ability of acting some very
distinguished part. Of those who may truly say

1 Tac. Agile. 24. * Sallust. Hist. FragTu. lib. i.

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROOET. 179

'* aliquid jam dudam invadere magnum
Mens agitat mihi; nee placid& contenta quiete est,"' ^

very many were never designed by nature for heroes.
But not to lose all the little time I have upon no better a
subject than myself, let me inform you of news in which
I presume you must take the deepest interest.

It has been determined, in the Privy Council of Ireland,
to recommend the King to offer to the Genevese a per-
mission to establish themselves in Ireland, and to grant
them a sum of money for the purpose. The king has
agreed to give 50,000/. It is proposed that the colony
shall consist of 1000 persons, who understand the watch
manufacture ; and they are to have a charter of incor-
poration, by which they will be enabled to elect their own
magistrates, and to regulate entirely their own internal po-
lice. The Duke of Leinster, by letter, invites the colony
to settle upon his estate in the county of Wexford, in the
province of Leinster. He offers to give them, by a pure
and perpetual donation, a very large tract of ground
which he now lets (though much below its value) for
600/. a-year ; he engages to procure them places of abode,
and particularly offers his own house, Leinster Lodge, a
mansion capable of lodging one hundred persons, till they
can build houses for themselves. The spot of ground
where he proposes that they should build their little
city is, he says, in one of the most fertile and temperate
parts of Ireland, at the confluence of two rivers, at a
convenient vicinity to the sea, and distant about thirty
miles from Dublin. All this news you may depend on,
for I have seen the order of the Irish Council, and the
letters of Lord Temple and the Duke of Leinster. Other
noblemen have invited the colony to settle upon their
estates, but none offer terms so advantageous and so
noble as the Duke of Leinster. You will wonder how I
gained all this intelligence, but your astonishment will
cease when I inform you that I have had some visits
from D'lvernois. He hinted to me that, besides the
watch manufactory, there were some thoughts of institut-

» Virgil. iEn. ix. 186.

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180 LETTERS TO Oct.

ing a French College at the New Geneva (for so the city
is to be called). It is to resemble the old Geneva in
everything) except in having an upper and a lower town»

" et parvam Trojam, simctlataqvie magnift
Pergama, et arentem Xanthi cognomine rivum
Agnosco, Scsffique amplector limina ports."' ^

You were perfectly right in supposing that do such
opinion is to be found in Hume, as M * * * ascribes to
the pkilosopke Anglais. That writer does say, it is true,
that England has not produced any orator who may be
compared with those of antiquity ; but, far from prophe-
sying that it never will, he writes purposely to exhort
his countrymen to the imitation of those great models;
and instead of imputing the want of success in oratory of
the Enghsh to their great sense, he entirely refutes that
opinion.

The Essay of Hume, which I suppose is alluded to. is,
in my opinion, a very indifferent performance. In ex-
amining all the causes of our inferiority in eloquence,
the writer passes over in silence that which seems to me
to be the most material — I mean the different application
which the ancients gave to that science from that which
we give it. Our great men are everything; geome-
tricians, historians, poets, orators, and I know not what.
Demosthenes was an orator alone. Till we have seen
men of genius shut themselves up for whole months, to
study only the force and beauty of their language, tran-
scribing with their own hands eight several times the
works of an eloquent writer, and struggling with unre-
mitting efforts to overcome every imperfection in their
nature, we cannot wonder that we have not a modern
Demosthenes. Hume is the more surprised that we
have had no orators (though he must or might have
heard Lord Chatliam, Mr. Pulteney, Lord Hardwicke,
Lord Mansfield, and Lord Camden), when we have had
such a writer as Lord Bolingbroke. You know Lord
Bolingbroke's history: during the greater part of his
life he was debarred a seat in ParUament, or, in his own

* Virgil. Mu, iii. 349.

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L782. THE REV. JOHN BOOET. X8l

words, he was "stripped of the rights of a British sub-
ject, of all except the meanest of them, that of inherit-
ing;'' but if his delivery was equal to his style (and
according to Lord Chesterfield it was so), he was, at least,
capable of rivalling Cicero. You are unacquainted, I
believe, with his writings ; let me, therefore, give you a
specimen of some of his figures. I have a multitude of
them present to my memory. Speaking of the criminal
indifference and gaiety of some of his contemporaries, he
says, that "they were men ready to drown the dying
groane <\f their country in peals of unseasonable mirth
and laughter ;'* of Catherine of Medicis, that "she first
bleu) up the flames of religious faction, and then endear
voured in vain to extinguish them in a deluge of bhod;"*
of Philip IV. of Spain, that " he languished rather than
lived from the cradle to the grace'' To Sir Robert Wal-
pole he speaks of the many crimes which might now be
proved against him, of the many more which were ready
to Mart into light the moment the powa: by which he
concealed them should determine.

Pray, thank my dear Kitty for her letter ; I mean to
answer her soon, and am rejoiced to find she continues
to draw the beautiful prospects that surround you. To
g^e on those sublime views, to be conversing with
you and my dear sister, and walking with you and your
little boy over your grounds, are the frequent, but, alas !
the imaginary occupations of your affectionate brother,

Saml. Romuuly.

Letter XXVI.

Gray's Inn, Deo. 10, 1782.

Before I take any notice, my dear Roget, of the
contents of your letters of the 13th and 23d of last month,
r must hasten to communicate to you the agreeable news
I have to tell you. It is much less agreeable, however,
than we were flattered with hopes of, a fortnight ago.
We have had the greatest expectations of peace: the
Parliament, which was to have met the 26th of last
month, was a^ourned to the 5th of the 'present : a letter

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232 LETTERS TO Dec.

was sent from the Secretary of State to the Governor of
the Bank, informing him that a negotiation had been
begun, and was very far advanced, and that, before the
meeting of Parliament, either peace would be concluded,
or all negotiations would be at an end. The dealers in
stocks were immediately in an uproar and tumult, which
has lasted almost ever since. The stocks rose and fell,
one, two, and sometimes three per cent, every day; from
57, the price at which they were when this news arrived,
they one day rose to 65. The opening of Parliament,
however, has disappointed much of our expectations:
how much of them has been fulfilled I cannot state to
you more accurately than by transcribing a part of the
King's speech. It shall be only a part; for, whatever
other merits it may possess, it has so little of that "im-
peratoria brevitas" which Tacitus commends, that it fills
very nearly two columns in the newspapers.

** Since the close of the last Session, I have employed
my whole time in the care and attention which the im-
portant and critical conjuncture of public affairs required
of me. I have pointed all my views and measures, as
well in Europe as in North America, to an entire and
cordial reconciliation -with the colonies. Finding it in-
dispensable to the attainment of this object, I did not
hesitate to go the full length of the powers vested in me,
and offered to declare them free and independent States,
by an article to be inserted in the treaty of peace. Pro-
visional articlee are agreed upon, to take effect whenever
terms of peace shall be Jincdly settled taith the court of
France. In thus admitting their separation from the
crown of these kingdoms, I have sacrificed every con-
sideration of my own to the wishes and opinion of my
people. I make it my humble and earnest prayer to
Almighty God, that Great Britain may not feel the evils
which might result from so great a dismemberment of
the empire, and that America may be free from those
calamities which have formerly proved, in the mother
country, how essential monarchy is to the enjoyment of
constitutional liberty. Religion, language, interest, af-
fections may, and I hope will, yet prove a bond of per-

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. Xd3

manent union between the two countries. To this end,
neither attention nor disposition shall be wanting on my
part. While I have carefully abstained from all oflFensive
operations against America, I have directed my whole
force, by land and sea, against the other powers at war,
with as much vigour as the situation of that force, at the
commencement of the campaign, would permit. I trust
that you feel the advantages resulting from the safety of
the great branches of our trade. You must have seen,
with pride and satisfaction, the gallant defence of the go-
vernor and the garrison of Gibraltar ; and my fleet, after
having effected the object of their destination, offering
battle to the combined fleets of France and Spain on their
own coasts ; those of my kingdom have remained, at the
same time, perfectly secure, and your domestic tranquil*
lity uninterrupted. This respectable state, under the
blessing of Grod, I attribute to the entire confidence which
nUmsts between me and my people, and to the readiness
which has been shown by my subjects to stand forth in
the general defence. Having manifested to the whole
world, by the most lasting examples, the signal spirit and
bravery of my people, I conceived it a moment not unbe-
coming my dignity, and thought it a regard due to the
lives and fortunes of such brave and gallant subjects, to
ahow myself ready, on my part, to embrace fair and
honourable terms of accommodation with all the powers
at war. I have the scUitfaction to acqiuiint you that ne-
gotiations to thie effect are considerably advanced. * * *
I have every reason to hope and believe that I shall have
it in my power,' in a very short time, to acquaint you that
they have ended in terms of paciflcaiion, which I trust
you will see just cause to approve. I rely, however, with
perfect confidence on the wisdom of my Parliament, and
the spirit of my people, that, if any unforeseen change in
the belligerent powers should frustrate my confident ex-
pectations, they will approve of the preparations I have
thought it advisable to make, and be ready to second my
most vigorous efforts in the further prosecution of war.
* * * I must recommend to you an immediate attention,
above all things, to the state of the public debt. Not-
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234 LETTEBS TO Dee.

withstanding the great increase of it during the war,
it is to be hoped that such regulations may still be esta-
blished, such savmgs made, and future loans so conducted,
as to promote the means of its gradual redemption, by a
fixed course of payment.*'

These are the most important passages in the speech ;
but it wanders over a multitude of subjects, calling the
attention of the Parliament to the affair^ of India, the
scarcity of com, a revision of our commercial system, the
late increase of robberies, the Mint, the King's revenue,
particularly the royal forests, the money voted for Ame-
rican BufPerers, &c. The King assures ^the Parliament,
too, that he has carried into strict execution the Act
passed in the last session for making reductions in the
civil list expenses.

There was not, in either house, any opposition to the ad-
dress. In tlie House of Lords, Lord Shelbume explained
the offer of declaring America independent, not to be a
present and irrevocable recognition of her independence,
but a mere offer, which, if peace did not follow, was to
be entirely at an end. Fox, in the other house, under-
stood it to be a full acknowledgment of the independence
of America ; supposed the word "offer" to be a mere in-
accuracy of expression ; and, upon this ground only, ap-
proved the measure. But his speech is worth giving you
a fuller account of.

It appeared, from some parts of the speeches of the
mover and seconder of the address, that great sacrifices
must be made to purchase peace. The cession of Gib-
raltar was hinted at ; that fort was represented to be an
empty honour, of little advantage to the country ; and it
was said that, by giving up to the Spaniards what they
had 80 set their minds upon, and what seemed to have
been the sole object of their ambition in the last wars,
England would secure the permanency of peace. Fox
commended the speech ; praised a part of the present
administration, but said that he saw great danger in some
members of it ; — declared that he never would make any
opposition to them, while they acted so wisely as they did
at present. He enlarged upon the wisdom of signing^

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1782. THE REV. JOHN ROOET. 185

a separate treaty of peace with America, by which our
acknowledgment of her independence was made certain
and irrevocable. It was a measure which he had always
himself recommended when in administration, but which
was then disapproved. He did not doubt, however, that, less
powerful in the ministry than out of it, he had much con-
tributed to the adoption of that measure ; and that, speak-
ing in the House of Commons on the opposite side from
that of the administration, his sentiments had had that
weight with his ancient colleagues which they never ob-
tained in the council. He said that the acknowledgment
of the independence of America was an act so wise and
so expedient, that he was only sorry to find in the same
speech which announced it words expressive of reluct-
ance and regret, of distrust and apprehensions of its con-
sequences: that those apprehensions, he would venture
to affirm, were groundless ; the consequences must be
happy to this country ; the ministers need not fear, they
had acted well and wisely ; he would defend them against
themselves; he would maintain against any eloquent
lord, that when America was independent, the sun of
Britain's glory was not set (such had been once the ex-
pression of Lord Shelburne) : on the contrary, that sun
would now shine out brighter than it had done for years
before. He would pledge himself to the world that no
learned lord (alluding to a former speech of Dunning
now Lord Ashburton) should move for an impeachment
against the first minister ; that minister might be secure ;
his life was in no danger ; the independence of America
should not be granted with such gloomy auspices as im-
peachments and public executions; it should not be
sealed with Lord Shelburne's blood. He owned that
})eace was most desirable ; yet he thought too high a
price might be paid for it. He would not iiay that it
could not be expedient, in any possible situation of this
country, to give up Gibraltar; but he would say that.
Great Britain and Ireland excepted, it was the last of his
Majesty's dominions that ought to be ceded ; that it was
the most effectual instrument of war in our hands ; and
that, had it been properly employed by stationing a fleet

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186 LETTERS TO Dec.

there, early in the present war, to have prevented D'Es-
taing from sailing to the West Indies, we should pro-
bahly have had peace at this moment. To part with
Gibraltar was to resign the Mediterranean altogether into
the hands of the house of Bourbon, to be theirs as com-
pletely and as absolutely as any lake or pool in their own
dominions. Gibraltar was an important possession as a
means to gain us allies; but when foreign powers saw
that we could afford them no assistance in the Mediter-
ranean, they would be little solicitous of our alliance.
To suppose that the cession of Gibraltar would secure a
longer duration of peace was as unphilosophical as it was
impolitic ; for one must be strangely ignorant of human
passions to suppose that ambition could be extinguished
by enjoyment ; on the contrary, it was a passion whose
appetite was sharpened by being gratified; a passion with
whi(;h every success was the parent of a thousand new
projects, and which the farther it advanced the more un-
bounded were the prospects that opened before it. It
had been said that the failure of the Spaniards now would
be a lesson to them hereafter ; and that the more import-
ant the advantages which we had reaped from Gibraltar
during this war, the more certainly would it be a useless
possession in future, when our enemies would have learned
to neglect it, and to point their arms against some vul-
nerable part. But this reasoning proceeds upon a notion
(the vainest that ever was conceived) that states are ex-
empt from human follies, prejudices, and passions ; but
that states, and those who are intrusted with their go-
vernment, are, in fact, subject to all the weaknesses in-
cident to humanity, is a truth, of which we need not go
far to find a striking example. It was not a first, a
second, or a third campaign in which we had exhausted
our strength, lavished our treasures, and poured out our
blood upon the plains of America, quite as ineffectually as
the Spaniards had wasted their efforts against the im-
pregnable rock of Gibraltar, that taught us to desist from
our design. The ministers of that day gained new ob-
stinacy from every repulse ; and, though their object was
every day more distant, they would still have pursued it

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;

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. Jgij

with as much eagerness and rage as ever, if this House
had not timely interposed, wrested the sword from their
hands, and saved the country. Let us trust for the dur-
ation of peace, not to so frail a hope as that the amhition
of the Bourbon^ will be satiated, but to the terror of our
own arms.

Lord North, too, spoke much upon the importance of
Gibraltar. It had one advantage, he said, above what
anything we could receive in return for it could possess ;
it was impregnable. He recommended that, notwith-
standing all our domestic divisions, we should be united
against France and Spain as one man. Peace was de-
sirable to us, but it was also desirable to our enemies.
America was exhausted ; an attempt had been made by
the Congress to r4ise taxes, but without success: Hol-
land was divided in herself, and as likely to consume her
strength in intestine wars as to annoy her neighbourp :
Spain was impatient till she could turn her arms against
her own revolted subjects in South America ; and even
France was in no condition to supply her allies with
money. He claimed merit to himself and his ancient col-
leagues for our late successes, and for the happy change
in the aspect of public affairs. It was they who had made
the mighty preparations for the last campaign, and had
laid in such abundant naval stores. He said he would
tell our naval Alexanders that, if they had conquered,
they had conquered with the troops of Philip.

The day after the address had been voted. Fox said in
the House that he had quite mistaken the purport of the
King's speech ; that, as the offer of independence to Ame-
rica had been explained by Lord Shelburne in the House
of Peers, he by no means approved of it, but retracted all
he had said the preceding day in its praise. Burke made
a similar declaration, and talked of moving an amendment
to the address, which Fox affirmed he would second.
After so hmg a detail, all reflections of my own may well
be spared.

To pass, then, to another subject I am much obliged
to you for giving me so particular an account of the diffi-
culties which are supposed to stand in the way of an emi-

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188 LETTERS TO Dec. 1782.

gration from Geneva. You seem to think, as I do, that
they are too weak to merit a moment's consideration.
One would think the Genevese imagined their manufac-
ture to be the sole means by which they could support
themselves, or be useful to society ; and that, ceasing to
be watchmakers, they would cease to be men. I confess
I augured very ill of the project when my dear sister was
asked whether coals were burned in Ireland, whether
wine was drunk there, and was importuned with other
such minute and frivolous inquiries. How different was
the manly conduct of the Hollanders, when, to preserve
their liberty, they resolved to transport their common
wealth to Batavia, the most pestilential climate upon the
whole face of the globe I Were I of Geneva, I should
be tempted to apply to my countrymen the words of
Brutus, *'Nimium timemus mortem et exilium et pau-
pertatem. Hac videntur Genevensibus ultima esse in
malis. Servitutem luxuriosam modo et honorificam non
aspernantur : si quidquam in extremst ac misen'imi con-
tumelid potest honorificum esse."^ To many I hope they
will be inapplicable ; but all those who can bear to live
under the present government of Geneva deserve all its
severities, and all the contempt which attends the con<
dition of slaves. But perhaps there is more of resent-
ment than of reason in what I have said, for I confess I
am impatient with the prospect of this second disappoint-
ment.

I have never read Locke's book on education which
you speak of, but I have always heard it esteemed as one
of his best works. From the idea Rousseau himself gives
me of him, I should have supposed that our admired
author had borrowed all the physical part of his education
from Locke, but none of the moral part. Locke's plan
seems to have been to exercise the reason early, instead
of burdening the memory, according to the usual method ;
but you know it is not Rousseau's design to make chil-
dren reasoners. Madame Genlis is very ungrateful if
what Roustan tells me fs true (and he is an admirer of

^ Cic. Epist. ad Biutum, 17.

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Jan. 1783. THE REV. JOHN ROOET. jgQ

hers), that the best part of her book is borrowed from
the Emile. Rousseau's reason for refusing to educate a
prince, namely, that his scholar would afterwards refuse
the title, flows necessarily from the best maxim of prac-
tical philosophy, that we should avoid temptations; a
maxim which is so little of a paradox, that no person of
the plainest understanding can refuse his assent to it,
and that it is recognised by every Christian in his daily
prayers. Rousseau might, with more propriety than any
other writer, have used the exclamation which I have
somewhere read was frequently in the mouth of a Spanish
polemic, " Ye powers that preside over controversy, give
me, I ask no more, give me an adversary that under-
stands me."

S, R.

Letter XXVII.

London, Jan. 7, 1783.

It would seem, my dear Roget, by your last letter, that
you thought I had affected doubt of succeeding in the way
of life on which I am to enter, only to draw from you such
praises as might encourage me in my pursuit. That object,
had it been mine, must have been fully gratified by your
silence, which, introduced as it is, is a greater encourage-
ment to me, and is more offensive to modesty even than a
panegyric upon talents which your mdulgenoe might have
supposed me to possess.^* However, I assure you I had no

^ The following is the passage of Mr. Roget *8 letter, alluded
to — Ed.

" Je vous le rSpete, mou cher " I tell you again, my dear Sam,

Sam, ma plus grande peine, that what gives me the greatest

toutes les fois que vous tardez ^ anxiety, whenever you delay writ-

xn'6crire, se porte sur IVtat de iug to me, is the state of your

▼otre sant^; car je comprends health; for I quite understand

d'ailleurs que toutes les heures that, every day, each hour must

vous doi vent devenir chaque jour become more precious to you;

plus cheres; et quant a votre and as for your friendship, of

amiti^, j en ai d6ja re^u trop de that I have already received too

marques pr6cieuses, pour que ma many tokens for my belief in

croyance k cet 6gaid se laisse this respect to be easily shaken.

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290 LETTERS TO Jan.

such wish, and that what I wrote to you was but a faith-
ful transcript of what I felt. Could I but realize the
partial hopes and expectations of my friends, there could
be no doubt of my success, almost beyond my wishes ;
but in myself I have a much less indu]p:ent censor, and,
in this perhaps alone, I cannot suffer their judgment to
have equal weight with my own. I have taught myself,
however, a very useful lesson of practical philosophy, in
order to make myself easy in my situation, which is, not
to suffer my happiness to depend upon my success.
Should my wishes be gratified, I promise myself to em-
ploy all the talents and all the authority I may acquire
for the public good. Should I fail in my pursuit, I
console myself with thinking that the humblest situation
of life has its duties, which one must feel a satisfaction
in discharging; that, at least, my conscience will bear
me the pleasing testimony of having intended well ; and
that, after all, true happiness is much less likely to be
found in the high walks of ambition than in the " secretum
iter et fallentis semita vitae." Were it not for these con-
solations, and did I consider my success at the bar as
decisive of my future happiness, my apprehensions would
be such that I might truly say, «*Cum illius diei mihi

facilement 6braiiler. Sans en
chercher des preuves loin de moi,
je sens trop bien que le goiHt
d^une vocation n*en suppose pas
toujours les talens; mais quand
ce goiit se troave accompagn^
d'une ardeur deTorante pour
I'^tude, mais quand IL cette
ardeur se joint une application
constante, des efforts soutenus,

il faut que je m'arrSte ;

je vous estime trop sincdrement
pour Tous louer en face, et je
n*aurois |)as dit le quart de tout
ce que je pense sur ce sujet,
qu'un exc^s de modestie vous
feroit m'accuserd^ji d'exagg^ra-
tion "

Without searching for proofs
further than myself, I am too
well aware that inclination for a
pursuit does not always pre>8up>
pose the talent for it; but when to
that inclination is found united
an insatiable ardour for study,
when with this ardour are com-
bined constant application, per-
severing efforts I must

stop : I esteem you too sincerely
to praise you to your face ; and
I should not have said one
quarter of all that I think on
tiiis subject, before an excess of
modesty would have already
made you accuse me of exag-
geration "

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1783. THE REV. JOHN ROOET. 292

venit in mentem, quo mihi dicendum sit, non solum com-
moveor animo, sed etiam toto corpore perhorresco.'* ^

My account of the new edict of Geneva did not come
from the republican Beauchateau, but from one who feels
no less indignation at it than yourself. I hear of articles
in it more insulting and tyrannical than any you mention ;
such as the abolition of the liberty of the press ; a pro-
hibition under a severe penalty to bear arms, or even to
have any weapon in one's house ; a law to make all clubs
unlawfid, even those for amusement ; to make it unlaw-
ful to speak of politics in a coffee-house, or even in a
private family ; to punish every transgression with great
severity, and to compel the master and servants of the
coffee-house, or the master of the family where the words
are spoken, under a heavy penalty, to inform against
their guests. But you must tell me that you have read
all this in the edict before I can give credit to it. Not
that X suppose men who can resolve to destroy the liber-
ties of their country are likely to be guided by any sense
of decency in the choice of the means most proper to
effect their object; but a tyranny so complete and so
atrocious as this, seems quite repugnant to the manners
of the age we live in. It is only under the detested
tyrants of Rome that one can find its parallel ; and it is
the wonderful pencil of Tacitus that alone can paint
all its horrors. *' Non ali^a magis anxia et pavens civitas,
egens adversiim proximos; congressus, colloquia, notse
ignotaeque aures vitari : etiam ihuta atque inanima, tectum
et parietes'circumspectabantur.'' * I rejoice, however,'that
the Government has not deigned to assume any mask :
one has at least the satisfaction to reflect that none wUl
suffer its severities but willing slaves. Besides, the
instructive lesson, which Geneva affords the world, ac-
quires tenfold weight from the horrors of such a tyranny.
How much is it to be lamented that such a subject should
not find an historian worthy of it ! Why is not there some
Genevan who, now that he has lost his own country, will
enlarge his patriotism into a divine philanthropy, and,

> Cic. In Q. CcBciL Diy. 13. * AnnaL lib. iy. 69.

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292 LETTEBS TO Jan.

considering the world as his country, turn the miseries of
his native city to the advantage of mankind ? I would
fain see the history of Geneva written, not hy a member
of the commission, whose talents must be prostituted to
palliate the faults, and it may be to excuse the treasons, of
himself and his colleagues ; but by one who has no interest
in the subject but the interest of virtue: "Uni sequus
virtuti atque ejus amicis." * If you know a citizen of this
character (as you assuredly do), an enthusiast of virtue,
one who to a Roman's patriotism adds the utmost sensi-
bility of heart, conjure him to undertake the subject:
entreat him not to doubt his talents ; let him be assured
that the energy of his mind and the tenderness of his
heart cannot ful to render him eloquent Exhort him
to write with no view to interest, with no view even to
reputation, but only for the benefit of mankind, and most
of posterity. Find such an historian, and let me have
the honour to be his translator; for that is the only
literary character in which I can venture for many. years,
if ever, to appear before the public. I have attempted,
indeed, the very subject which I am now exhorting you
not to suffer to remain without an historian; but my
attempt, which (for I had scarcely any materials) was
only an exercise, and consisted but of detached parts,
such as seemed to afford the greatest scope for ima^na-
tion, has corroborated my opinion that it is not for me
yet to think of being an author. Most of what I wrote
I had the grace to destroy immediately aften Some
passages, however, I preserved ; and, though it may seem
inconsistent with the rest of what I have said upon my
composition, I shall, if I do not find wherewith to fill this
letter, send you, for your opinion, some of the characters
which I had drawn * ; not for your opinion as to style or

1 Hot. IL S. L 70.
* " Duroveray was at this time Attorney- Greneral of the Republic ;
an honour which he owed less to acquired talents than to his zeal for
liberty, and to the bold and decided manner in which he had en-
gaged in the party of tlie citizens. His natural eloquence was little
improved by study or by art; but the violence of his temper sup-
plied him with bold and imposing images, and the warmth and

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1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 293

composition, for in that respect they are beneath your
notice, but as to truth of design; in a word, to know
whether you think I have caught any of the features of
their characters, and have made any progress in that
which Pope calls the proper study of mankind.

quickness of his passions with a rapid and impetuous elocution.
These natural endowments soon rendered him one of the most con-
spicuous characters in the commonwealth, and the citizens the more
willingly gave him their confidence, as he was an entire stranger to
artifice ; the ingenuous openness of his character displayed qu^ities
less proper to conciliate the affections than to command the ap-
plause of his fellow-citizens. He was violent, resolute, uncomply-
ing, warm and overbearing in dispute, exacting rather than courting
approbation, and impatient of contradiction as well from friends as
from enemies.

<< Claviere, who might be considered, next to D., as chief of the
repr^entant party, was of a character very unlike that of the
Attorney-General. Not bom in the city, nor the son of a citizen,
his zeal in the popular cause wanted ^e animating warmth of
national j^judices ; for which sentiments of philanthropy and gene-
ral principles of politics are but a feeble substitute. His reason
might convince him of the people's rights and the government's
injustice ; but his heart had not inherited the enthusiasm of liberty,
or the stem hatred of tyranny. Nor were his passions strong and
energetic to conceal or supply his want of patriotism. His genius
was penetrating and subde, not bold and enterprising. Though
artful and. cautious, he was incapable of that firm and deliberate
calmness which is tiie most requisite quality in a popular leader.
His timid ambition, intoxicated by the prospect of success which
a delusive imagination painted to him, yet startled and was checked
by the least suspicion oi a reverse of fortune : even his art forsook
him when it was most required, and he knew not, in any critical
moment, how to dissemble his fears, or to conceal his intemperate
hopes.

^'Vemes had all those qualities which can adorn and render
amiable a tranquil and studious life, but nothing of the republican s
force and energy. Tender, mild, affectionate, learned, eloquent,
and polite; the friend of Rousseau, but, at die same time, the
friend of Voltaire ; his love of virtue was blemished by an intem*
perate love of letters, of glory, and of applause. Nature designed
him for an ornament to a Trajan's court, in whose pure serenity
every lesser virtue flourishes and is embellished with all the inno-
cent elegancies of life; and not to embark amidst the tempests of a
divided republic, where occasion may call for those higher virtues
at which vulgar natures shudder. She had denied him the mascu-
line vigour of mind which shrinks not at the sight of blood when
liberty can be purchased at no less a price.

VOL. I. O

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204 LETTERS TO Jan.

There are those, then, it seems, who think the pleni-
potentiaries justified because they acted under their
royal master s commands. I, on the contrary, have always
been taught that no commands, no fear, not even of death,
can ever excuse the author or the instrument of a flagrant
injustice. There once, too, were men of honour in France
who thought so; witness the gallant soldier who re-
turned for answer to the mandate of the most bloody
tyrant of France, '* Je supplie votre Majesty d'employer
mes bras et ma vie k choses faisables."

Our ministers seem, in the House of Commons, to be
very weak in orators, however strong they may be in
numbers. If Mr. Pitt had more experience, and were
more accustomed to business, in short, if he were some
years older than he is, he might almost alone support the
administration ; but talents as wonderful even as those he
possesses can hardly qualify a man, at the age of twenty-
three or twenty-four, for the arduous part he has to sus-
tain. With a great command of language and quickness
of parts, it is no difficult task to support any side in a de-
bate ; but to propose taxes in such a manner as may be
palatable to the Parliament, when almost every resource
of finance is exhausted, and to be ready to answer the
multitude of objections which are started from every
quarter of the House, is an undertaking to which one
would suppose nothing but long habit and the most per-
fect knowledge of the subject could render any man equal.

'* Lamotte was a trae republican, bom in a low condition of life,
and destined to a mechanic trade. His rude bluntness, the boldness
of his language, and bis ostentatious contempt of the accidental dis-
tinctions of fortune, challenged attention to his singular character,
and he delighted in that singularity. He affected alike to despise
the foppery of artificial manners, the refinements of systenoatic
politics, and the resources of study and of learning. Yet he pos-
sessed a rough and nervous eloquence, whose vigorous sallies pro-
duced the greater effect as they were the less expected ; but his
arguments were mingled with coarse and unseasonable jests; bis
language was uncouth, his pronunciation vulgar, his tone of voice
loud and clamorous. Such manners could not fail of being highly
offensive to the wealthy families, who looked down with scomfid
pity on a man who, glorying in tiie meanness of his condition, had
yet the presumption to be ambitious."

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1783. .THE BEV. JOHN ROGET. I95

Mr. Pitt is soon to propose some plan for a reform of the
parliamentary representation ; but who is so sanguine as
to hope that it will be adopted by the present Parhament ;
— a Parliament elected under the predominant influence
of the late ministry, and many of whose members cannot
be ignorant that a new-modelled representation will, in
effect, be an exclusion of themselves from Parliament?
The present Parliament was tried last session upon both
questions, of a new representative system, and of shorten-
ing the duration of Parliaments, and rejected both by a
majority of almost two to one ; since when, I cannot see
that anything has happened to convince them of the ne-
cessity of these reforms.

Your most affisctionate brother,

Saml. Romilly.

Lkttee XXVIII.

Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, March 21, 1783.

I am very sorry my silence should have occasioned
you any uneasiness : my letter of the 10th of last month
ought to have arrived at Lausanne before the date of your
last ; I make no doubt you have received it since. You
do me but justice when you suppose that I am prevented
from writing to you by business, and that you are never
forgotten by me. I lost no time in executing your com-
mission respecting Linguet. Three numbers, containing
the *'Memoire8 sur la Bastille,*^ had been published when
your letter reached me ; these I have sent to you by Le-
cointe, who will put them in the post at Geneva. I never
was more completely disappointed in any book than in
this. Before he enters upon his subject, he talks so much
of the horrors and of the unparalleled atrocities of the
Bastille, putting his imagination and his language to the
rack for the strongest images and expressions, that one
is quite astonished, afterwards, to find only a narrative of
a confinement, rigorous indeed, but such as one would
expect in almost every prison. He resembles the poet,
his countryman, who began, —

o 2

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196 LETTERS TO March,

*' Je chante le vainqueur des yainqueurs de la terre ;"

and one may very well say with Boileau, —

*' Que produira Tauteur apres tous ces grands ctisi
La montagne en fravail eufaote vine souris."

Even his motto is as injudicious as all the rest : ** Non
mihi si voces* centum sint," &c. After this mighty pro-
mise upon the cover, one opens the book, and behold ! it is
with the utmost difficulty that the author is able to spin out
three small pamphlets, of which his narrative does not
occupy a third part. The Memoirs are useful in one respect,
as they serve to convince one that no account of the Bas-
tille coming from a prisoner can be at all interesting, and
that the only men qualified to write a good history of the
prison are the governor of it, or the lieutenant de police.
Even with Linguet's exaggerated language, the horrors
of the Bastille fall much short of what one's imagination
had painted to one. I cannot agiee with him ''que
jamais oppression n'a 6t6 si cruelle;" much less should I say
** que jamais elle n'a 6t6 reproch^e avec tant d'energie."
I perceive, by your letter, that you are still inclined to
think Linguet a good writer. It is to myself only I ought
to make excuses for differing from you in opinion ; but
indeed, upon this subject I do differ from you entirely.
This, at least, I think certain : if Linguet is eloquent, we
must not call Demosthenes so, or Cicero, or Rousseau,* for
no two things can differ more than their style of writing
and his. We find all those great writers, in different parts
of their works, pleading their own cause, painting their
own sufferings, and reproaching their enemies with the
wrongs which they had done them. In doing this, we
find that they content themselves with copying faithfully
what passes in their own mind, with representing every-
thing exactly as it struck themselves, and with giving a
voice, if I may so express myself, to nature. They keep
the attention of their readers fixed upon the single subject
they are treating of, because they know that all ambitious
ornaments will only weaken its force. We never find

* This word is lingua: in Virgil.

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1783.

THE REV. JOHN ROGET.

197

them straining their imagination to find out metaphors
and similes that were never imagined before. They
invite, they even force us to think, but it is on the subject
before us, not on the ornaments with which it is profusely
covered ; they do not oblige us to pause at every figure to
consider its meaning ; in a word, they do not sacrifice
their subject to its ornaments : they seek to show us what
they have suffered, and how they have been wronged, not
what wit, imagination, and powers of language they
possess.^

* The following was. Mr. Rogef s estimate of Linguet^s merits as a
writer — Ed.

" Ma surprise k la lecture des
* M^moires wr la BastWe ' n'a
pas ^t6 moindie que la v6tre : j*y
ai trouY^ tousles d^fauts dont vous
parlez : ' de grandt touliers pour
de petits pieds^^ comme dit Mon-
taigne ; un mauvais choix de mots
ronflans, un entassement de
grandes phrases, une accumula-
tion de figures fausses ou froides,
nn air de pretention qui indispose
le lecteur ; force esprit, certains
tours heureux, de Timagination,
beaucoup d'616gance, quelque
chose de pittoresque, d'original;
mais d'ailleurs rien qui paraisse
partir du coeur, rien qui touche
et ptoetre, rien m^me qui pr6vi-
enne pour Tauteur, et qui lui
attire la confiance, &c. Au reste,
tout cela pent s'expliquer: si
Linguet eut 6crit ses M^moires
dans la Bastille meme, je ne doute
pas qu'il n*eut eu plus d'61o-
quence en peignant ce qu'il sen-
tait ; mais ^ present qu il en est
dehors, et qu'il se trouve heu-
reux en raison de ses malheurs
passes, je ne suis pas bien surpris
qu'il ne peigne que foiblement ce
dont il n'a que des reminiscences.
Pour rendre le pass^ avec force,
il lui faudrait une ^me capable
d'impressions durables et pro-

My surprise on reading " Les
Memoir €8 aur la Bastilie^'' was
not less than yours. I found in
it all the defects you mention :
" de grands soulierspour depetUa
ptedSy" as Montaigne says; a
bad choice of sonorous words, a
heap of inflated phrases, an accu-
mulation of false or frigid figures,
an air of pretension which dis-
gusts the reader ; abundance of
wit, certain happy expressions,
imagination, much elegance,
something picturesque and ori-
ginal ; but, on the other hand,
nothing which seems to come
firom the heart, nothing which
affects you or makes an impres-
sion, nothing which disposes
you in the author's favour and
which gives you confidence in him,
&c. But all this may be explain-
ed : if Linguet had written his
Memoirs in the Bastille itself, I
do not doubt but that he would
have been more eloquent in de-
scribing what he felt; but now
that he is out of it, and that he
feels happy by reason of his past
misfortunes, I am not much sur-
prised that he should describe but
feebly that of which he has
reminiscences alone. To portray
the past with effect; he musthave a

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198

LETTERS TO

Much|

I am not surprised that you were in such haste to sell
out your stock after reading the author of the *^ Finances
(VAngleterre,"' However, French writers upon our govern-
ment and politics deserve very little attention ; they are
commonly very ignorant of the suhject on which they
write, and very partial against the English. De Lolme,
and perhaps Montesquieu, are the only foreigners whom I
have read who have written anything worth reading upon
our constitution. I can say nothing of Mably, for I have
not seen his book ; but the inaccuracies, to use no harsher
an expression, of the French writers in general, are unpar-

fondes. C'estce quWait Rous-
geau au plus haut degr6; mais
c'est ce que n'aura jamais lin-
guet. Croyez-Tous, apres ceque
je viens de yous dire, que cet au-
teur me paraisse bien estimable f
Non : je le trouve plus que me-
diocre comme historien; mais
comme amialiste, ou nouyel-
liste, j'avoue qu'il m'amuse, et
que s'il a un genre, c'est celui-U.
II ii*a pas le talent de me per-
suader ; mais il a celui de me faire
quelqu'illusion. Sans dtre mo-
dele, il ecrit du moins avec rapi-
dity et ayec grace; sa maniere
est ais6e ; il a de Toreille ; il
connait son monde; son style a
du nombre, et tout le feu que
peut donner Timagination. L'au-
teur a des saillies, et une maniere
de voir par fois plaisante, &c.
En un mot, je le compare k ces
mets trop composes, dont un
trop fr^uent usage prvertirait
le go&t et la sant^, mais qui, pris
k petite dose, ne font que piquer
le ^ais, et r^veiller les esprits.
J'aime beaucoup a lire une fois
Linguet, maisje ne voudrai pas
qu'on me condamna k le relire.^'

soul capable of deep and lasting
impressions. This is what Rousseau
had in the highest degree, but
what Linguet will neyer have.
Can you believe, after what I have
just told you, that this author
seems to me very estimable ? No : I
consider him worse than indifferent
as an historian ; but as an annal-
ist or novelist^ I confess that he
amuses me, and that if he has any
peculiar line, it is that. He has
not as regardJs myself the talent
of persuasion ; but he has that of
creating a certain degree of illu-
sion. Without being a model, he
writes at least with rapidity and
elegance ; his style is easy ; be has
a good ear ; he undeistands his
readers; his style has rhythm in
it, and all the spirit which imagi-
nation can infuse. The author has
his flights, and a way of sometimes
seeing things in a humorous light,
&c. In a word, I compare him to
those too highly seasoned dishes,
the over frequent use of which
perverts the taste and the health,
but which, when taken in mode-
ration, only excite the palate and
awaken the intellect. I much
like reading Linguet once, but I
should not like to be condemned
to read him over again.

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1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. I99

donable. Who can imagine that the author of the treatise
on " Lettres de Cachet " believed what he was writing, or
that he had taken the trouble to inquire into the fact, when
he tells the world that the trial by jury is falling into dis-
use amongst us, and that the habeas corpus can only be ob-
tained with diflBculty ? A propos of the " Lettres de Cachet,"
that book has confirmed me in my opinion that religion
is necessary to excellence even in the arts; and I cannot
doubt that, if the Comte de Mirabeau had been as devout
as he was animated, he would have been infinitely more
eloquent. With what energy might he have invoked the
Author of his existence, and have called upon him to wit-
ness his veracity, instead of using that cold exclamation,
'• J'atteste Thonneur que tout dans mon r6cit est conforme k
]a v6rit6 !" With how much more eloquence might he have
committed his child to the care of Providence, and have
implored its vengeance on his head if ever he became a
friend or an instrument of oppression, than have addressed
those vows, as one may say, to aerial nothing, '' Puisse la
mort vous moissoner avant Tage !'' &c. &c. Swift has
written a book* to prove the advantages of Christianity ;
but the work is ludicrous, and his principal argument is
that, if Christianity was utterly destroyed, the wits would
want a subject for pleasantry, and minute philosophers an
enemy to combat. The subject, however, might, I think,
very well be treated seriously ; at least I know that, when
I was at Paris, everything I saw convinced me that, in-
dependently of our future happiness and our sublimest
enjoyments in this life, religion is necessary to the com-
forts, the conveniences, and even to the elegances and
lesser pleasures of life. Not only I never met with a
writer truly eloquent who did not, at least, affect to believe
in religion, but I never met with one in whom religion
was not the richest source of liis eloquence. Cicero,
sceptical as he is in his philosophical writings, in his
orations always (except once or twice where it was his
interest to shake the established faith of his country) ap-

^ Entitled An Argument against abolishing Christianity,

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200 LETTERS TO Maich,

pears to be a firm believer. He repeatedly invokes those
** Dii immortales " who he knew did not exist, and is never
perhaps so eloquent as where he adopts even all the
absurdities of paganism : where, for instance, in his plead-
ing for Milo, he attests the sacred hills and groves of Al-
bania, its subverted altars, and the great Jupiter Latiaris,
that they were roused to punish the infamous Clodius who
had polluted all their holy rites ; where, in his oration for
Sextius, he invokes to his aid Jupiter Capitolinus, Juno,
Minerva, and the Dii Penates, whose temples and shrines
he had secured from destruction, and that maternal Vesta
whose priestesses he had saved from violation, and whose
eternal fire he had preserved from being extinguished in
the blood of his fellow-citizens, or lost in the general con-
flagration of the city ; where, in his defence of Flaccus,
he works upon the passions of his audience, by repre-
senting the sister of his client, a vestal, in the delirimn of
her grief, neglecting the sacred fire on which the exist-
ence of Rome depended, or likely to extinguish its eternal
flames with her tears. But the instances are innumer-
able where the eloquence of Cicero owes all its wonderful
force to the fables, the errors, and the superstitious rites
of heathenism : and one cannot doubt that the same ob-
servations may be extended to the literature of France
when one reflects that her first orators are Bossuet, Mas-
sillon, and Flechier ; and that the finest pieces of poetry
in the language are " Athalie" ** Zaire," and Rousseau's
Odes?

' " Rien de plus vrai," says Mr. Nothing can be more true than

Roget in reply, " que ce que what you say on the advantages

Tous dites sur les avantages de la of religion with relation to the

religion par rapport aux arts. arts. To what prodigious ac-

Quel immense parti n'en ont pas count have notthe ancients turned

tir£ les anciens! Leur th^olo- it! Their theology was, in some

gie 6tait en quelque sorte toute respects, all poetical. They in-

po^tique. lis la taisaient entrer trodu6ed it generally in their

partoutdansleurspoemeslyriques, poems, lyrical, epic, tragic,

^piques, tragiques, &c. Nos phi- &c. Our philosophers themselves

losophes eux-m^mes savent bien, well know, on occasions, how

dans Toccasion, mettre k profit to profit by our religious ideas,

nos id6es religieuses. Voltaire Voltaire owes them a multitude

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1783.

THE REV. JOHN ROGET.

201

I suppose the Courrier de PEurope, and all the gazettes,
have proclaimed to you the scandalous alliance between
Fox and Lord North. It is not Fox alone, hut all his

leur doit une foule de beaux vers.
Olez du * Pere de Famille ' tous
les passages quisupposent iin Dieu,
c'est retrancher de la piece tout
ce qu elle a de plus touchant et
de plus beau. Buffon, comme
^crivain, est, sans contredit, bien
•up^eur ^ Bonnet ; et cependant
combien la^ ^ Contemplation de la
Nature^ par ce dernier, n'est elle
par plus ^loquente que ' Let
F'ices," ^c, du premier ! Mais
(elle est la manie du siecle.
On ne veut que de laphilosophie,
c^est-^-dire du verbiage et des
reveries, pourvu que la religion
8oit moqu6e. Les plus sens^
mSmes cedent au torrent. D —
me disait toujours qu'il n aimait
pas Saurin, parce qu'il n'^tait pas
philosopbique. D — - ! St. Lam-
bert, dans sa preface des ^Saisons,*
met en syst^me les vers m6taphy-
giques. Yoltaire en donne sou-
vent Texemple dans ses tragedies.
Aussi n'y a-t-il rien de plus sec
et de plus froid que les poemes
de nos jours : c'est par la surtout
que p^chent *Le8 Georgiquet de
Delisle, et * Les Mois ' de Rouil-
lier. Nos nouvelles trag^ies sont
la froideur m^me. II y a longtems
que Tode est morte en France.
Le style Acad^mique passe en
proverbe. II nous faudrait aussi
entendre la plupart de nos jeunes
pr^dicateurs. Ce n'est pas que
nous n ayons encore quelques
auteurs ^loquens; mais il est
certain que leur nombre diminue
k xnesure que les principes reli-
gieux s'afiaiblessent ; et je doute,
ainsi que vous, qu'on put en
trouver un seul parmi les philo-

of fine verses. Erase from the
" Pere de Famille " all the pas-
sages which presuppose a God,
and you take away ^om the piece
all that is most touching and beau-
tiful in it. Buffon, as a writer,
is incontestably very superior to
Bonnet ; and yet how much more
eloquent is the " Contemplation de
la Nature" of the latter than **Le»
Vices," &c., of the former ! But
such is the mania of the age.
The world will have nothing but
philosophy, that is to say, jargon
and reveries, provided religion
be derided. The most sensible
themselves yield to the torrent.
D — was always telling me that
he did not like Saurin, because he
was not philosophical. EvenD — !
St. Lambert, in his preface od
'' The Seasons," reduces to system
metaphysical verses. Voltaire
often sets the example in his tra-
gedies. Thus then it is that no-
thing can be more dry and frigid
than the poems of the present
day ; such Is the fault especially of
"Lr» Georgiqaes " of Delisle, and
of **Z^» Alois " of Rouillier. Our
new tragedies are frigidity itself.
The ode has long ago disappeared
from France. The Academician
style is becoming proverbial.
We ought also to listen to the
greater number of our yoimg
preachers. I do not mean to say
that we have not still some elo-
quent authors; but certainly
their number diminishes in pro-
portion as religious principles are
weakened ; and I doubt, as you do»
whether a single one can be found
amongst the philosophers. One

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202 LETTERS TO Maxch,

party ; so much that it is no exaggeration to say that, of
all the puhlic characters of this devoted country (Mr. Pitt
alone excepted), there is not a man who has, or who de-
serves, the nation's confidence. But that even these men
may not he judged unheard, the apology for their conduct
which they offer, or rather with which they insult the
puhlic, is this. They say the great cause of enmity be-
tween them was the American war, which being removed,
there remains no obstacle to their now becoming friends :
that this country has long been shamefully rent with
party feuds and animosities, to which it is now high time
to put an end, by uniting all the talents of the country in
one administration : that their alliance implies no depar-
ture from their ancient principles ; for, though each party
consents to act with men whom they formerly opposed,
yet neither gives up any of their political sentiments:
that an administration formed of men holding contrary
speculative opinions in politics is no novelty in this
coiintry : that even Lord Shelburne*s administration was
one of this kind, the Lord Chancellor and the Lord Advo-
cate of Scotland being the warm advocates of the Crown
and of the present established constitution, and the other
ministers being the zealous friends of the people and the
promoters of a reformation of the constitution. These
sophisms are not worth refuting.

sophes. Encore une remarque : more remark : the Matadoies of

leg Matadors de la philosophie the philosophy of the age, I mean

da siecle, je veux dire leg Ency- the Encyclop^distes, are no much

clop^distes, ont si grand peur que afraid that the idea of a Divinity

rid6e d'une Divinity se trouve should be foimd in their works,

dans leurs ouvrages, que toutes les that every time they quote from

fois qu'il mettent Charles Bonnet Charles Bonnet without naming

It contribution sans le nommer, him, which is often the case, wher>

ce qui leur arrive souvent, par- ever this writer says " the Author

tout oil cet^crivaindit TAuteur of Nature," the Encyclop^distes

de la Nature," les Encyclop^distes always say '^ Nature."

ne disent jamais que * La Na- Farewell, dear Sam : I can never

ture.' sufficiently tell you how much I

"Adieu, cher Sam : je ne pour- am more and more affectionately

rai jamais vous dire assez com- attached to you.
bien je vous suis de plus en plus
tendrement attach^."

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1783. THE RBV. JOHN R06ST. 203

Adieu ; I make no apology for breaking off abruptly,
since it is to procure you the pleasure of hearing from my
father.

Yours most affectionately,
S. R.

Letter XXIX.

London, April 1, 1783.

To compensate, my dear Roget, for having of late
written to you so little upon politics, I propose that it
shall be the principal subject of the present letter. The
peace has by no means deprived me of materials ; on the
contrary, it has rather increased them. To one who
would acquire a knowledge of mankind, the political con-
tests of this country offer much for reflection : unhappily
the reflections they surest, at least to an Englishman,
and therefore to you, my dear Roget, as well as to myself,
must be of a very melancholy kind.

The long-expected, and I will add the much-dreaded,
administration of Lord North and Fox has not yet taken
place, though five weeks have elapsed, since any of the
late ministers, except Pitt» have acted as ministers, and
this at a time when we are engaged in various negoti-
ations of the greatest importance. What is the true cause
of this delayjl cannot inform you : some impute it to the
averseness which the king entertains to the appointing of
an administration so profligate ; others to the same dispo-
-^ition in the Chancellor, and the influence he has over his
lajesty. The week before last, Mr. Coke gave notice in
ic House of Commons that, if an administration was not
•rmed before the following Friday (March 21), he
-hould move for an address to the king upon the subject
When the day came he was informed that the new Minis-
try was settled. The Duke of Portland had arranged it,
and it was (according to a list which appeared the next
day in the newspapers) as follows : — ^The Duke himself,
First Lord of the Treasury ; Lord John Cavendish, Chan-
cellor of the Exchequer ; Lord North and Mr. Fox, Secre-

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204 LETTERS TO April.

taries of State ; Lord Keppel, First Lord of the Admiralty ;
Lord Stormont, President of the Council ; Lord Carlisle,
Lord Privy Seal. In a day or two, however, the project
of this new Administration was laid aside ; owing, as is pre-
tended, to the king's having insisted upon having a list of
the names of the persons who were to fill all the inferior
departments before he would make any appointment, and
the Duke of Portland and his party having absolutely
refused to comply with that requisition.

On the following Monday, Mr. Coke made his.promised
motion for an address to the king, praying that he would
be graciously pleased to form an administration entitled to
the confidence of the people, and such as might have a tend-
ency to put an end to the unfortunate divisions and dis-
tractions of this country. The motion was carried without
a division, but not without debate ; in which Fox inveighed
against the Chancellor, once his boasted friend and the
subject of his panegyrics. He insisted upon the necessity,
in order to our salvation from the dangers which threatened
us, of an union of all parties, and of a general amnesty of
all animosities and ancient prejudices. Divisions and oppo-
sition, according to him. would prove the destruction of
the country : he would have it so, if possible, that there
should be no difference of opinion in the nation ; and to
attain that desirable end of unanimity, he wo\ild consent
to unite even with the Shelburne party, as well as with
that of Lord North. That if any men could suppose that,
in times so critical as the present, he, and those who acted
with him, were actuated merely by motives of private in-
terest, he would not condescend to remove their suspicions.
Lord North was upbraided by some of his former friends
with having abandoned them, and with having disgrace-
fully made, not a coalition with Fox, but an humble submis-
sion to him ; with having consented to accept a subordinate
office, and to form part of a Cabinet in which there would
always be a majority against him. Lord North treated
these reproaches as the mere eif'ects of disappointment in
those who saw that, having less power and authority in the
intended administration than he had when he was in
office before, he wotdd be less able to serve them. Mr.

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1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 205

Pitt treated the offer of a coalition held out to him by Fox
with all the scorn which it deserved : " He never would
consent to call the abandonment of former principles a
forgetting of ancient prejudices ; nor would he be, by any
consideration, induced to pass an amnesty upon measures
which had brought his country almost to the verge of ruin ;
but he saw that his system of politics differed from that of
his contemporaries, and he felt that his principles and his
temper were not calcidated for the times in which he
lived." Since this debate it has been much reported that
an administration will be formed from which both Fox and
Lord North will be excluded, but to this I give no credit ;
and the only hope with which I endeavour to console myself
is, that such an administration cannot be of long duration,
but must soon be put an end to, either by disputes among its
own members, or by majorities of the House of Commons
declaring against them ; though, after what we have seen,
we can hope for little good from the House of Commons,
Fox seems already to have lost all his popularity ; and it
is almost a general wish that some man of character and
credit may be opposed to him as a candidate for West-
minster at the election which his acceptance of a place
will render necessary. Lord North has lost still more in
the public estimation. Wonderful as it may seem, it is
certain that he was growing into a kind of popularity.
The tranquillity in which he was left by his successors
after the loud threats which had been heard of parliament-
ary inquiries and impeachment, was considered by many
as a complete triumph over his enemies, and an unanswer-
able proof of his innocence ; though certainly there are
other more plausible ways of accounting for ministers
avoiding to bring into precedent the instituting of rigorous
inquiries into the conduct of their predecessors.

April 11.— You see, my dear Roget, that till this mo-
ment I have not been able to find an opportunity to finish
my letter. Since my being interrupted in it, the new
administration has been appointed ; it is exactly the same
as that which I have already mentioned had been pro-
posed by the Duke of Portland, with the addition of the
following appointments :— Burke is Paymaster of the

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206 LETTERS TO May,

Forces ; the other Lords of the Treasury are Sir G-rey
Cooper of the North party, Mr. Montagu and Lord
Surrey of the Whig party. Colonel North is to be the
secretary to his father, and Lord North is to be cre-
ated a Peer. The Lord Chancellor has resigned, and the
Great Seal is to be put in commission ; the Lords Com-
missioners to be Lord Loughborough, formerly Wedder-
burn (the man whom Fox has repeatedly charged with
being the immediate author of the American war), and
two other judges. Last Monday Fox was re-elected for
Westminster, because no person opposed him. The po-
pulace received him with hisses, hooting, and every other
mark of displeasure ; he attempted to speak to them seve-
ral times, but to no purpose ; they were resolved not to
hear him. Byng and Lord Surrey, Fox's great friends*
and men who were once very popular, endeavoured to
harangue the people, but all in vain ; the people would
listen to none of them. At last Fox was proposed, and of
mere necessity elected ; afterwards he with difficulty ob-
tained an audience from the people, and the very short
speech he made was frequently interrupted by the hisaes
of his hearers.

Pray, when you write to Dumont, make my excuses for
not answering the letter which M. Mercier brought me.
I had intended to have written by Lecointe, but he went
sooner than I expected.

S. R.

Letter XXX.

My dear Roget, London, May 9, 1783.

I was in hopes I should have been able to give you a
good account of a debate which took place the day before
yesterday in the House of Commons, upon a motion of
Mr. Pitt for a more equal representation in Parliament ;
but, though I was at the house by twelve o'clock, I could
not gain admittance, the gallery having been quite full
at a little after eleven, and three times as many as it would
hold obliged to come away. One might imagine, from this

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1783. THB REV. JOHN ROOET. 207

crowding, that a great many persons took concern in the
fate of their country ; hut the truth is, that it was the
eloquence of Mr. Pitt, and not the suhject on which it was
to he employed, that excited people s curiosity : and, no
douht, the reflection which his speech produced in the
minds of many of his hearers was not unlike that which
the usurer makes upon the preacher in the Diable Boi'
teuXy ** II a hien fait son m6tier ; aliens faire ]e ndtre.*'

We have lately had a very convincing proof that laws
which contradict and (if I may so express myself) do vio-
lence to the general sentiments of a nation, never can he
executed. Two officers quarrelled ahout a gaming deht ;
they did not fight till six months afterwards, when a duel
ensued. One of the officers was shot through the lungs,
and, though he could with difficulty stand, he insisted
upon firing ; he did so, and killed his adversary. The
law is express that to kill a man in a duel is murder.
The coroner ^s inquest, however, which sat upon the hody
of the person killed, refused to hring in a verdict of '
murder ; and the hody was huried in Westminster Abhey,
attended by the choir, and with a kind of mDitary pomp.
A few days afterwards the other officer died.

I have just got the newspaper with the account of the
debate upon Mr. Pitt's motion. The motion was, that the
House should come to the three following resolutions : —
1. That it was the opinion of the House that measures
were highly necessary to he taken to prevent bribery and
corruption at future elections for Parliament. 2. That, in
future, when the majority of voters for any borough
should be convicted of gross and notorious corruption
before a committee of that House, such borough should
be disfranchised, and the minority of voters not so con-
victed should be entitled to vote for the county in which
such borough should be situated. 3. That an addition of
knights of the shire and of representatives of the metropolis
should be made to the representative body. In his speech
he said that the addition he would propose should be
of about 100 members. He spoke of a perfectly equal re-
presentation as a wild Utopian scheme which never could
be realized, and gave as a reason for not proposing to

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208 LBTTBBS TO May,

strike off the corrupt boroughs and those which are the
patrimony of particular families, that it would be an unjust
and unwarrantable invasion of private property. This is
a kind of argument which, I confess, has no great weight
with me ; for I think the laws are not bound to protect
men in the possession of such pecuniary advantages as
they ought never to have obtained. If a man's having a
pecimiary interest in a thing, no matter how acquired, is
sufficient to make his property in it sacred, then may the
laws become a shield to every species of fraud, iniquity,
and immorality. The motion was lost (as you will, no
doubt, have expected) by a majority of 293 against 149.
Fox strenuously defended the motion ; Lord North as
warmly opposed it. Burke rose to speak ; but it was late,
and a great many members, dreading the length of his
oration, quitted the house at the very same moment,
which so much offended him that he sat down without
speaking : this has happened to him more than once.

I am much obliged to you for giving me your senti-
ments on the question whether any crime ought to be
punished with death.^ The objection you make to the

^ The passage which follows contains the opinions referred to in
the text. — Ed.

Je crois, comme vous, que les I believe, with you, that the
argumens de M. Sinrin pour arguments of M . Sirvin against
combattre la peine de mort sont the punishment of death are, to say
tout au moins contestables. En the least, open to discussion,
voici un qui me semble avoir There is one which seems to me
plus de force : peut-etre n*est-il to have more force ; perhaps it is
qu'une reminiscence de ce que j'ai but a recollection of what I have
lu autrefois dans Beccaria. Quel formerly read in Beccaria.
est le but des peines? Ce but, What is the end of punishment?
tous en conviennent, est, d un The end, as all admit, is, on the
cot6, de mettre la soci^t^ II Tabri one hand, to protect society from
des outrages du m^chant qui la the outrages of the bad man who
trouble ; de I'autre, de retenir, disturbs it ; on the other, to re-
par Texemple des suites funestes strain, by the example of the
<le la violation des lois, ceux qui fatal consequences of the violation
seraient enclins k ne les pas re- of the laws, those who would be
specter. Mais non seulement on inclined not to respect them,
peut obtenir ce double but sans But not only may this twofold
avoir recourse la peine de mort — end be attained without having
on peut I'obtenir encore plussfire recourse to the punishment of

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1783.

THE REV. JOHN ROOFT.

209

punishment of death, fouuded on the errors of human tri-
bunals and the impossibility of having absolute demon-
stration of the guilt of a criminal, strikes me more forcibly

ment et avec moins de danger ;

done, la peine de mort est in-

jmte, puisqu'elle est inutile. Vous

auiez pu voir dans le discours

de Sirvin bien des raisons en

faTeur de Tesclavage, substi-

ttt£ k la mort. Permettez-moi

d^y en ajouter une nouvelle, qui

me frappe singulierement, et que

je suis bien surpris de n'avoir lu

nuUepart. L*erreur des hommes

est trop connue pour qu*on puisse

la r^voquer en doute. Les pr£-

jug^ les passions, I'int^rSt, I'au-

torit6, de malheureuses circon-

stances, tout pent nous ^garer. Les

lumieres les plus ^tendues, le

travail le plus constant, lattention

la plus soutenue, les intentions

les plus droites, ne les mettent

pas m^me i labri de I'erreur.

Un juge, quelqu'il soit, est

homme: lI peut se tromper; il

peut Stre tromp6; et lorsqu'un

innocent a £t6 envoy 6 au supplice,

qnelles ressources lui restent-il f La

douleur, lesremords, les regrets,

et Pafireuse certitude de ne pou-

Yoir r^parer les suites funestes

d'une si cruelle erreur. Mais

s'il vit encore, avec quel empresse-

ment un juge malheureux, mais

honnSte, tromp^, mais non pas

coupable, ne volera-t-il pas vers

luif Avec quelle joie il dk-

tacherases liens, commeileffacera

par ses larmes les cicatrices des

fers qui auront li^s des mains

innocentes ! La soci^t^, pour la-

quelle, et au nom de laquelle, il

aura 6fk condamn^, s'empressera

i r^parer ses torts ; et Tinnocence

opprim^e et g^missante pouira

esp6rer d* voir une foislejour

VOL. I.

death — it may be attained still
more surely and with less danger ;
if so, the punishment of death is
unjust, since it is useless. You
may have seen in Sirvin's dis-
course many reasons in favour of
slavery as a substitute for death.
Let me add a new one, which
strikes me as having singular
force, and which I am muchsur*
prised never to have met with.
Human error is too well known
to be questioned. Prejudice,
passion, interest, power, unfortu-
nate circumstances, all may lead
us astray. Knowledge the most
extensive, labour the most perse-
vering, attention the most continu-
ous, intentions the most upright,
are no safeguards against error.
A judge, whatever he may be, is
still a man : he may deceive him-
self; he may be deceived ; and
after an innocent person has been
consigned to punishment, what is
then his resource ? Grief, remorse,
regret, and the horrible certainty
of being unable to repair the fatal
consequences of so grievous a mi»-
take. But if he still lives, with
what eagerness will not a judge,
unfortunate but upright, mistaken
but not guilty, nasten to him I
With what joy will he not loosen
his bonds, and obliterate by his
tears the marks of the iron which
bound his guiltless hands ! Soci-
ety, for whom, and in whose name,
he will have been condemned, will
hasten to repair the mischief done,
and innocence crushed and bro-
ken-hearted may hope at last to
see the happy day of her triumph.
But in the present times, with
P

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210 LETTERS TO May,

than any argument I have ever hefore heard on the same
side of the question. I confess, however, that to myself
it seems ahsolutely impossihle, even if it were to he wished
(of which I am not quite sure), to omit death in the cata-
logue of human punishments ; for if the criminal will not
Buhmit to the punishment inflicted on him, if he escapes
from his prison, refuses to perform the lahour prescribed

heureux de son triomphe. Mus our legislation as it is, their me-
aujourd'hui,dansnotreUgislation mory is restored, their wretched
actuelle, on r^habilite leur m6- families are slightly and sadly
moire, on donne ^ leurs families indemnified ; and yet they have
infortun^es de Ug^res, de tristes not the less perished on the
d^dommagemens; et ilsn'ont pas wheel or the scaffold ; they have
moins expir6 sur la roue, ou sur not the less drunk to its dregs,
r^chaffaud : ils n'ont pas moins and for ever, the bitter cup
bfl jusqu*a la lie, et sans retour, of opprobrium and ignominy,
le caliceamer de Vopprobre etde Nor do I conceal from myself ^e
rignominie. Je ne me dissimule objections. It may be answered,
pas non plus les objections. On that there is more cruelty in end-
pent rdpondre qu'il y a plus de less slavery than in the punish-
cruaut6 dans im 6temel esclavage ment of death. One may expa-
que dans la peine de mort. On tiate too on the abuses attached
pent 8*6tendre encore sur les abus to slavery ; abuses on the pEirt of
attaches a la servitude; abus inferiors without pity for the
commis par des subaltemes sans wretched being confided almost
entrailles sur des malheureux blindfold to their care. It is
confi^s presqu'aveuglement H more humane, in fact; for once to
leurs soins. C*est plus humain, lavish blood than inflict stripes
en effet, de prodiguer une fois le and bad treatment for years and
sang, que les coups et les mauvais years. The higher officers cannot
traitemens pendant de longues enter into all the details of the
ann^es. Les sup6rieurs ne management of the unfortunate

Seuvent d^scendre dans tons les prisoner, often at a distance from
6tails du regime de Tinfortun^ the capital whence their sentence
captif, souvent 61oign6 de la capi- came. It depends upon a gaoler to
tale d'oii sort leur sentence. II 06- destroy all proportion in punish-
pend d'un geolier de d^truire ment. The complaisant and
toute proportion de peine. Le servile culprit will know how to
sc^Urat complaisant et bas saura conciliate his good-will; while
captiver sa bienveillance ; tandis his ill-humour, his passions, his
que sa mauvaise humeur, ses cruelty, may exert themselves on
passions, sacruaut^pourronts'ex- a less grovelling prisoner, &c.
ercer sur un captif moins rampant. This remark staggers me to that
&c. Cette observation m'6branle degree as to leave me almost un*
au point de me laisser presqu'in- decided. Be yourself the judg^e
d6cis. Soyezvous-mSmele juge of my reasons, and try to relieve
de mes raisons, et tachez de me me from my doubts,
tirer de mon incertitude.

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1783. THE BEV. JOHN EOGET. 211

to him, or commits new crimes, he must, at last, be
punished with death. So it is, at least, in the Utopia of
Sir Thomas More ; and it is a very melancholy reflection,
that some of the miserable victims of that excellent phi-
losopher's compassion might, if his visions had ever been
realized, have suffered years of miserable servitude in
addition to the punishment of death, which would at
last be inflicted on them as the consequence of crimes
which they had been provoked to commit. One reason
why I cannot think that death ought so carefully to be
avoided among human punishments is, that I do not think
death the greatest of evils. Beccaria and his disciples
confess that it is not, and recommend other punishments
as being more severe and effectual, forgetting, undoubt-
edly, that, if human tribunals have a right to inflict a se-
verer punishment than death, they must have a right to
inflict death itself.

You will not, I hope, conclude from all this that I am
perfectly satisfied with the penal codes that now subsist in
Europe, and particularly with that in my own country,
where theft (pilfering it should rather be called), forgery,
and every description of the Crimen fain, ai-e punished
with death. The laws of our country may indeed be said
to be written in blood ; and we may almost apply to our-
selves the words of Montaigne, " II n'est si homme de
bien qu'il mette k Texamen des loix toutes ses actions et
pens6es, qui ne soit pendable dix fois en sa vie."

Since you mentioned Locke on Education, I have read
it. I have lent it, too, to Roustan, who exclaims with
Madame Genlis against the injustice of Rousseau, and
wonders how he could dare to call his subject new after
Locke's treatise. But what there is in common between
the moral system of the one and the other, I leave you to
judge, when Locke, according to his manner of education,
woul4 have curiosity in a child cultivated and encouraged,
and all his questions answered to his understanding;
would have the idea of God very early impressed on his
mind, and have him taught to pray soon after he could
speak ; would have a disposition to generosity encouraged
in a child by making him sensible that it is his interest to

p 2

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212 LETTERS TO May,

be generouB) and by taking care that more shall always be
repaid him than he has given away ; would have him sti-
mulated to learning, by giving him dominion over his
younger brothers and sisters, and making him their in-
structor ; and when he relies so much upon the article of
good -breeding, and repeats his instructions upon it so
often, that he seems to have more remembered that he was
educating a gentleman than a man. Rousseau was in-
finitely better acquainted with his subject than Locke ;
that is, with the dispositions, passions, capacity, and intel-
ligence of children. Nevertheless, I admit that Rousseau
owes a great part of his book to Locke ; inasmuch as Locke
directed the attention of Rousseau to objects which he
.1 might otherwise have overlooked, and that to some errors
' in Locke we owe some tniths in Rousseau. The book is
well written ; not indeed with the elegance of an Addison,
but with an energy of which Addison was incapable, par-
ticularly in those passages where the author inveighs
against pubUc schools, as seminaries of every pernicious
principle, and where he reproaches the generality of
parents with inculcating every vice in the tender minds of
their children, not indirectly and by example only, but
directly and by way of precept.

You have perfectly reconciled me to your plan of
returning to England, and I now not only consent to
it, but earnestly solicit its execution. Indeed, you do
not know how painfully J resisted my own inclinations,
when, alarmed, though perhaps unreasonably, for your
health, I started objections to your scheme. But one
short truth will best show it. Of all my life, that short
period which elapsed between your marriage and your
being taken ill was infinitely the most happy. Let me
then renew that happiness. Nor is it for my pleasure
alone, but for a much better purpose, that I wish you
were again in England. I have often lamented your ab-
sence, as depriving me of a very considerable assistance
in my studies ; but you are now to render me a more im-
portant assistance. I am soon to enter on a career which
possibly (though 1 grant not very probably) may placse
me in important and critical situations, which will cer-

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1783. MRS. ROGET. 213

tainly give me partial and selfish interests, incompatible
with the good of others, and which will throw me amidst
mankind, and condemn me to hear the profession of dis-
honourable sentiments without opposing them, and to be^
a near spectator of selfish and degrading conduct without
discovering any detestation of it. It will in part depend
on you to save me from the contagion of such examples ;
for though my heart still recoils from them with an an-
tipathy that seems quite insurmountable, I have I know
not what kind of terror, which I cannot overcome, of the
force of habit, of perpetual temptations, of being fami-
liarized with a contempt for virtue, and, above all, of
an habitual attachment to the miserable gold which one
earns. The best shield against these is, I am convinced ,
the society and conversation of such a friend as yourself,
whom one may consider as the pledge and deposit of all
the sacred engagements which one has taken with God,
oneself, and one's fellow- creatures. This very letter is
some proof of what I say, for to whom should I venture
to write thus but to yourself?

Adieu ! Be assured of the sincere and invariable af-
fection of your warmest friend and brother,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter XXXI.

My dear Sister, London, June 10, 1783.

I should not at this moment sit down to write to you
if I thought it would add to your misfortunes ^ to hear how
much I share them ; but, judging of you by myself, I do
not fear increasing your grief. It were to no pmpose not
to speak of our affliction ; it cannot but be always before
■us, nor can we wish it were not. What a loss I suffer,
and how ill I am able to bear it, you know but too well.
You know whether I have an affectionate heart ; you
know whether Roget did not, with yourself, engross
almost all that affection. The anxiety for the health of our
dearest friend, of which I never could divest myself, and
the apprehension of the worst that could happen, which

1 The death of Mr. Roget, which took place on the 23rd of May.

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214 LETTERS TO Jime,

never quitted me when I had the least knowledge of his
being ill, had made me suppose it impossible that any
news from Lausanne could ever have surprised, how
much soever it must afflict me. That news, however,
which I had often formerly expected, and endeavoured to
prepare myself to meet^ came upon me at last the most un-
expectedly. I had heard indeed of your last letter, but I
had not seen it, and the most alarming circumstances in
it were concealed from me.

Great as our loss is, my dear Kitty (and I presume to
place my loss nearly on a level with yours, when I reflect
that I have lost the best and dearest friend I ever had, a
better and a dearer than I ever shall have again), still are
we not without reason to be consoled, when we reflect that
this great misfortune is ours alone, and reacthes not our
dear friend. It is we who are deprived of the society and
friendship of the tenderest, the most amiable, the most
virtuous of men ; but our friend is happy, which in this
life he never could have been ; he was too good, too tender,
too affectionate, for this life. It could not but be a source
of misery to him as long as there were men in it who
were unjust, and others who were unfortunate. Dissolu-
tion of life is not, in truth, a misfortune to any man who
has lived well ; to him it must have been less so than to
. any man I ever knew, for it' was always present to his
mind, and his whole life was a preparation for it. He is
now assuredly rewarded for his virtues by that Grod in
whom he has always firmly believed, and he now partakes of
that immortality for which he showed, by the whole tenor
of his life, that he knew he was created. But I feel that,
however little reason there may be for our tears, it is
hardly in our power to prevent them ; and if we considered
ourselves alone, what could we do better than indulge our
sorrows to the utmost, and return, by our tears, the senti-
ments of affection which he always did and still does enter-
tain for us ? Bat it is in our power to make abetter return,
and it is our duty to do it. It is the duty of both of us
to guard, to instruct, and protect the children which he
has bequeathed to us ; those dear children who have not
lost, but only changed, their father. We know how much

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17B3. MRS. BOGBT. 215

our excellent friend had theirhappiness at heart ; we know
what a parent they would have experienced in him ; and we
will, my dear sister, take care that they shall not suffer
by our misfortune, and that his fondest hopes shall not be
disappointed. But to fulfil this sacred promise, it becomes
US to take care that the excess of our grief do not put it
out of our power to render them service. I entreat you
then, my dear sister, not to indulge your grief, to be careful
of your health, to think what would be the dreadful conse-
quence of depriving your infants of that care and assistance
which they have a right to expect from you. But it is
not for your children alone, and for the memory of dear
Roget, that you are bound to take the greatest care of
your health, but for all your fond relations here in your
native country ; those relations who have deeply felt all
your misfortunes, who have hardly ever dared, since you
left them, to indulge any joy, whose greatest pleasures
have always been damped with the reflection that one of
those who were entitled to partake them was absent Yes,
indeed, my dear sister, you do owe us something. Hitherto
your life has been most unfortunate; what remains of it
you have the prospect of spending, not indeed joyfully,
but unruffled with tears and anxieties, in a calm and
pleasing melancholy. I have a thousand projects to men-
tion to you ; but when I reflect that it will be a month
before I can have an answer, I dare not mention one of
them. Pray write to us immediately. I thought it im-
possible anything could add to my affection for you ; but
the more unfortunate you are, the more I feel myself to
love, to esteem, and respect you. That God may protect
you under your misfortunes is the constant prayer of your
most affectionate brother,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter XXXII.

My dear Sister, London, June 13,:i783.

I could wish to be constantly with you, and, since
that is impossible, at least to write to you every day ; but

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216 LETTERS TO Jw^e,

the post, unfortunately, goes from hence but twice a week.
What a consoling reflection must it be to you to think
how much your tenderness alleviated the misfortunes of
our dear friend ! without you, how unhappy must have
been the last years of his life I It is a comfort even
to me to reflect that if he had never known me, he would
have been less happy than he was. Though his friend-
ship has been to me a source of infinite uneasiness and
affliction, I thank God that I was blessed with it ; his
life was happier, and mine, I am sure, will be better for
it. I do not seek to divert my attention from the cause
of my sorrows. I know that to be a resource as vain
and ineffectual as it is unworthy. I rather consider what
is the amount of my loss, and examine what is real and
what imaginary in the terrors of death. I know that my
dear brother's virtues had made him invulnerable to its
sting. I know that he is immortal, I know that he still
lives ; and I carry the idea so far as to read over all his
former letters. I think with myself he is still only in a
foreign country, — we shall soon meet again ; not so soon,
indeed, as we intended ; but what can be late that is cir-
cumscribed by the limits of life, and what can be distant
that lies no farther than the grave ? I reflect that my
dear brother is now more present with me than ever, that
he looks down upon me from Heaven, is the witness of
all my actions, knows all that passes in my mind, and sees
the sincerity of my affection for him ; that he will still be
the guardian and director of my conduct ; and that, when-
ever 1 am doubtful how to act, I will consider how he
would have acted in such a situation, and I shall then be
certain always to determine for what is just and virtuous.
It is a pleasure to me to reflect that by this means his will
be the merit of the laudable actions which I may per-
form ; and that perhaps it will be part of those joys which
are to reward his good works to contemplate their exten-
sive effects, and to see the good fruits of the virtues which
his friendship has inspired me with, and to behold his
own virtues reviving again in his children, by the happy
effects of that wise and judicious education which he had
begun, and which he has taught you how to perfect. I

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1783. MRS. ROGET. 217

do not exhort you, my dear sister, lo dismiss all sad re-
flections, but rather to turn them to another object — to
think of your friends in this country, to think how your
return among them will revive and cheer them. Think
of our dear parents, and comfort them in their old age.
Think of your sweet children, and bring them amongst
protectors who are anxious to devote themselves to their
care and service. When, my dear Kitty, will you set out
upon your journey hither ? To perform it alone must
be painful ; I will come to bear you company. I will
be with you by the end of July, or sooner if you desire it»
though it would be inconvenient to me. All the months
of August, September, and October shall be devoted
wholly to your service. If you choose, we will return to
London immediately ; or, if you prefer it, I will stay with
you for some time at Lausanne, or any other place, till the
hottest weather has passed over. Above all things, let me
entreat you to be careful of your health, think of your
children, and remember that at their age the loss of a
mother is much greater than of a father ; think what en-
dearing duties you have to discharge. We shall certainly
join our dear friend again soon, (for what are a few years,
what is a whole life, compared to that eternity which we
shall pass with him ?) but let us endeavour, first, to have
done all that we know will afford him pleasure, and not
to leave unperformed those offices for which he would
chiefly have desired to live. In the midst of our afflic-
tion, and under the hard lot which has befallen us, we will
find out serious, nay melancholy pleasures, which might
be envied by those who seem more the favourites of for-
tune. Once more let me entreat you to be careful of your
health, and not to cause another affliction to your dearest
friends, greater than they will be able to bear, — at least,
if I may judge of their hearts by that of your most affec-
tionate brother,

Saml. Romilly.

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LETTERS FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU
AND OTHERS.

1783—1787.
Letter XXXIII.

FROM MR. 6AYNES. i
My good Friend, P*™' September, 1783.

Since you left me, I have not known what in the
world to do with myself. The first morning I verily
believe I should have been tempted to throw myself into
the Seine, had I not, luckDy, met with an acquaintance,

' The following accoiuit of Mr. Baynes is extracted from a letter
of Dr. Parr, dated March 2, 1820. See ante, p. 48.

"John Baynes was born at Skipton, in Yorkshire, where his fatibcv
was a prosperous attorney. He was a member of Trinity College ;
and, at a tmie of life unusually early, he gained the highest, or
nearly the highest, honours, mathematical and classical. He had
great ardour of mind, great singleness of heart, great variety of re-
search. He was an antiquary as well as a scholar. He waa for a
time suspected of having written the celebrated Epistle to Sir Wil-
liam Chambers : he disclaimed the authorship, but confessed that
he superintended the press. He had a very fine, commanding person,
the tones of his voice were impressive, his dress was at all times be-
coming, his manners were unaffected, and yet dignified. He was noir
and then fond of paradoxes, and would defend fhem resolutely,
when they had aU the properties of improbability and even al>-
surdity. He was a steady advocate for civil and religious liberty.

'* John Baynes was perhaps the most intimate fnend Sir S. Ro«
milly had in early life; and in consequence of their connexion, my
own acquaintance at Warwick with Sir Samuel hegan at some
assizes or sessions. Sir Samuel spoke of him with sSOfection and
admiration ; and doubtless, if he had lived, he would have been a
bright luminary in the literature and politics of England. He hacL
not yet been called to the bar, but practised at Gray's Inn, 1 believe
as a conveyancer. He died, to iny sorrow, of a fever; and his re-
signation at the approach of death was worthy of his intellectoal,
moral, and religious excellences. I wrote his epitaph in Latin.^*

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Sept. 1783. LETTEKS FROM MIRABEAU, ETC. 219

who was at the Hdtel d^Espagne in the next street, at the
Caf(6 Conti. I called on M . RomDly, * and was very sorry
to find Madame Romilly was very ill ; so I did not stay,
but promised to call the next day, which I did, and saw
her much better, but he was not at home. The next
morning I called at Passy, but Dr. Franklin was gone to
Paris. I set off for Poutoise, and arrived there on Wed-
nesday. I was much taken with the look of the place ;
the bridge, the river Oise, the rising ground on which it
stands, made me very much in love with it; — ^began a
copy of verses on the place. The next day I went to see
the convents, and to make inquiries about a preceptor*
but the devil a preceptor could I find; did not like
Pontoise quite so well. The third day, not meeting with
any better success, I thought Pontoise a most horrible
place indeed ;— burnt my verses, and set off for Paris
again, where I now am chez M . Villars.

I went this morning to the Chambre du Parlement,
where I understood rather more than I had done before.
The subject of the cause was a suit between the sheriflfe
of a neighbouring town and the bakers, for enhancing
the price of bread. But (would you believe it?) the
" avocats du Parlement de Paris " are as arrant squabblers
as any of our King's Bench practitioners. I was not a
little diverted with the dispute between a little dapper
avocat with his own hair, and a great tall man in an
enormous wig, both concerned in this cause: the tall
man seemed to rely much on the prosecution being at
the suit de la ville; "Ah," said the other, " on sait fort
bien ce que c'est que la ville ; ce n'est que deux ou trois
officiers de la ville.''

I have half read through M . Henault.' It is certauily
a very useful book, and by a learned man ; but he has
two faults: 1. His principles of toleration in religion,
and his ideas of government, are both very bad. 2. He is
perpetually making very foolish and childish observa-
tions, qui ne prouvent rien, as he says himself. Pray tell
me if you are not of the same opinion. His observations

J See ante, p. 47.
* Probably Abr^g^ Chnmoiogique de PHutoirt de France,

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220 LETTEBS FROM 1785.

on the progress of customs, laws, manners, &c., are
excellent, and show him to have been a great antiquarian
in that particular line.

I saw St. Denis's church, a fine light building (I speak
of the inside), the roof unornamented, the windows won-
derfully rich and (ut ita dicam) frequent, the church
being surrounded with windows which have hardly any
space between them. The ornaments on the gate are
very curious, being as old as Charlemagne. The lightness
of the columns and windows pleased me much. This
morning I went to see the Duchess of La Vallidre at the
Carmelites. Oh I I had. almost forgot to tell you that,
on Tuesday, I went to see the Due de la Vallidre's library,
which, for the number of rare and fine books, is well
worth the trouble. I never saw such a magnificent col-
lection for an individual; there are some volumes of
drawings and paintings which I should think invaluable,
immense numbers of ancient romances, printed and
manuscript, and a fine collection of the first printed
books, all in excellent condition.

Pray tell me if you have already written to Pontoise. -
Write immediately ; be full, explicit, nay, even be tedious ;
have no mercy on me.

Yours ever sincerely,

J.B.

Letter XXXIV.

FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.i
Mon Ami, [Londres,] Ce Jeudi [1785].

Je ne voulais plus vous 6crire que je n'eusse une
r^ponse de vous qui me dit que ce n'est pas par simple

Letter XXXIV.

London, Thursday, 1785.
I had resolved, my dear friend, not to write to you again until
I had had an answer from you, telling me that you did something

' Mr. Romilly became acquainted with Mirabeau in 1784. See
ante, p. 67. This letter refers to the work on The Order of
Cincinnatut, by Mirabeau, which Mr. Romilly was translating.
The translation was published by J. Johnson,
St. Paul's Churchyard, in 1785.

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1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 221

tolerance que vous souiFrez mon amitie et mes bavardages.
L'extrait ci-joint d'une lettre de Franklin me force k un
billet d'envoi. J'ai fait toutes les d-marches n^cessaires
chez Johnson, pour remplir ses voeux de ce cbi6: du
vdtre, je vous demande un avertissement bien fait dans
le sens tr^s-sage oii il Tenvisage, et je vous prie d'y dire
un mot de Touvrage, si vous trouvez que cela convienne.
Adieu, mon ami, car je ne veux pas rompre mon voeu ;
et, d'ailleurs, je suis tr^s-occup6, soit par Madame de
* * *, k qui il faut force instructions, soit par Parrange-
ment et le triage de mes papiers, que je fais avec autant
d'exactitude que si j'allais me noyer. Vous trouverez ces
deux rapprochemens de Madame de ♦ * ♦ etdelaTamise
trfis-disparates ; et cela vous rappellera peut-Stre ce tem-
ple, consacr6 k V^nus et aux Graces, dont parle Plu-
tarque, sur le frontispice duquel 6taient Merits ces mots,
** II faut mourir;" et cela vaut bien le " Libertas " de la
prison de Venise. Quoiqu'il en soit, soyez tranquille,
mon ami ; je ne me noyerai pas avant de vous avoir
embrass6 encore une fois. Peut-6tre, conviendrait-il i
un homme d'un aussi grand et beau talent que vous, qui
daigne traduire, de traiter, dans un discours pr^liminaire,
le beau sujet de Tinfluence du bonheur de TAm^rique

more than mei'ely tolerate my frieDdship and my idle talk ; but
the enclosed letter from Franklin obliges me to send to you. I
haye taken all the necessary steps with Johnson to fulfil his wishes
on that side. From you I hope to receive a good introduction, in
accordance with the very sensible view of the subject taken by him ;
and I beg of you to insert in it a word or two about the work itself,
if you think it right to do so. Farewell, my friend, for I will not
break my vow; and besides, I am much engaged, partly with
Madame de * * *, who requires a good deal of instruction, and
partly with the arranging and selecting of my papers, which I am
doing with as much care as if I were going to drown myself. You
will think the ideas of Madame de * * * and the Thames very in-
congruous : and this will perhaps remind you of that temple, sacred
to Venus and the Graces, of which Plutarch speaks, upon the front
of which were these words — " We must die;^* a motto which is at
least as good as the " Liberia s^^ of the prison of Venice. Be that
as it may, do not be alarmed, my friend ; I shall not drown myself
before I have shaken hands with you once more. Perhaps it might
suit a man of talents as great and noble as yours, who condescends
to translate, to treat in a preliminary discourse that noble subject of
the influence of the happiness of America upon the rest of the world^

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222 LETTERS FROM Maieh,

BUT le reste du monde, ce qui vous ferait passer aupr^ de
la locality de Maty.* Quoiqu'il en soit, envoyez-nous un
avertissement, si non mieux.

Letter XXXV.

FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.
M on cher Romilly, [Londres. ce l Man, 1785.3

Vous me quittez aujourd'hui ; et Tamie qui fait le
bonheuT de ma vie me quitte demain ; ce concours de
circonstances p^nibles m*a fait sentir encore mieux
combien je vous aime tons deux, et combien Thabitude
est un lien 6troit pour les bons coeurs.

** Quel siecle jiuqu'au soir ; il mesure des yeux
Le tour que le soleil doit faire dans les cieuz :
II faut que sur ces monts ce grand astre renaisse,
S'61eve leDtement et lentement s^abaiue.^*

C'est un trds-mauvais poete qui a fait ces quatre beaux
vers, et la m^moire de Tamie me les rappelle au moment
du veuvage. Eh I mon Dieu I nous vivons un jour : faut-

which would place you near the locaiity of Maty.* At all events,
send us an introduction, if nothing better.

Letter XXXV.

My dear Romilly, London, March 1, 1785.

You leave me to-day, and she who makes the happiness of my
life leaves me to-morrow ; this concurrence of painful circumstances
makes me feel still more forcibly how much I am attached to yoa
both, and how closely habit binds together affectionate hearts.

" Quel siScle jusqu^au soir ; il mesure des yeux
Le tour que le soleil doit faire dans les cieux :
II faut que sur ces monts ce grand astre renaisse,
S eUve ient«ment et lentement s'abaisse."

These four fine lines were written by a very bad poet, and the
recollection of my friend brings them to my mind at the moment
of separation. Alas! we live but for a day! Shall we then curtail

^ Henry Maty, the editor of a monthly Review, the first number
of which appeared in February, 1782.

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1785. MIBABE^U, ETC. 223

il xnutiler cette frSle journfe par des privations de notre
choix? des privations volontaires? £t quels sont done
088 tristes intSrSts d'invention humaine pour lesquels cet
^tre, si passager, malheureux par lui, par les choses, par
«es semblables, cet 8tre qu'on appelle homme, aggrave
encore ses peines et diminue ses jouissances? En v6rit6,
cette pens6e abat quelquefois mon s^me, au point de m'dter
toute faculty d'^crire et de m'occuper.

Ufutheureux! disais-je un jour en parlant de Fon-
tenelle. Ce mot» qui devrait retentir avec tant de joie
dans les dmes honn^tes, k peine on ose le prononcer : la
haine et Tenvie ont toujours reproch^ son bonheur 4
Fontenelle ; elles lui ont fait un crime de n'avoir point
attir6 sur lui la persecution des pr^jug^s de son silcle,
de n'avoir indiqu^ qu'^L demi la v^rit^ qu'il voyait toute
entidre ; de ne lui avoir 6te les voiles qui la cacbaient que
pour lui en donner d'autres qui la d^robent; d' avoir
montr^ le G6nie tremblant devant les Pr6jug6s^qui de-
vaient trembler . devant lui. Quelle passion que Tenvie !
elle poursuit sans relSche Vhomme de g6nie, pour lui
rendre tons les tourmens qu'elle en re^oit S'il fait en-
tendre des plaintes, elle pretend qu'il s'avilit par la ven-

this one precarious day by privations of our own choice — by volun-
tary privations? And what, after all, are those pitiful objects of
human invention, for the sake of which this short-lived being, un-
happy in himself, imhappy by his fellow-creatures and in the cir-
cumstances which surround him, this being, called Man, aggravates
his sorrows and lessens his enjoyments t Indeed, this reflection at
times so depresses my spirits, that it deprives me of all power of
writing and of application.

**He was happy," said I, one day, in speaking of Fontenelle.
These words, which ought to find a joyful echo in every good breast,
alas! one hardly ventures to utter them. Hatred and envy have
ever made Fontenelle's happiness a cause of reproach to him. They
made it a crime in him that he did not draw down upon himself
persecution from the prejudices of his age ; that he showed to others
only half of those truths of which he saw the whole; that he drew
aside one veil from the image of truth, only to throw over it another ;
that he exhibited Genius trembling before Prejudice, which ought
to have trembled before him. What a passion is envy! without
relaxation she pursues the man of genius, throwing back upon him
all the torments she suffers at his hands. If he utter a complaint,
ahe says that he is lowering himself by retaliation ; if he be silent,

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geance ; s'il se tait, elle assure qu'il est insensible k rinjure ;
si son Sme imp^rieuse attaque k d^couvert les erreors
populaires, elle le peint comme un esprit s6ditieux,
pour qui rien n est sacr6 ; si sa sagesse adoucit la verity
pour ne pas Texpoter aux outrages de la multitude, elle
I'accuse de Tavoir 6to\jS^e dans sa pens^, d'avoir saciifi6
les droits ^ternels du genre humain a quelques jours de
repos. Sans doute, il faut bien admirer ces dmes fortes
et intr6pides qui annoncent la v^rit^ avec I'^clat et la
majesty qu'elle a prise dans leur g^nie, et, apres la gloire
de Tavoir d^couverte, veulent obtenir encore celle de
souffi*ir, et, s'il le faut, de mourir pour elle. Je respecterai
F6n61on 6crivant le " TSlimaque'* dans la cour de Louis
XIV., et Thomas Morus publiant ** I' Utopie '* dans le palais
de Henri VIII. Ces dmes sublimes consacrent les sidcles
qui se sont d£sbonor6s en les pers^cutant. Mais en
versant des larmes d'attendrissement et d'admiration sur
ces d^vouemens h^roVques, on regrette que Tesprit humain
n'en ait pas retir6 d'assez grands avantages. Mon ami,
j'en viens k croire que Ton ne fait point triompher la
v6rite en s'immolant pour elle. La persecution, qui 6tend
les progrds de Terreur, arrSte ceux delaraison; etles
philosophes ne se multiplient point, comme les fanatiques»

hissileDce is insensibility to insult; if his uncompromising spirit
lead him to make popular error the object of his undisguised attack,
she paints him as a factious spirit, with whom nothing is sacred ; if
his prudence soften truth, in order that it may not be exposed to the
outrage of the multitude, she accuses him of having stifled it in its
birth, and of having sacrificed the eternal rights of mankind to a
few days of repose. Doubtless, we must admire those vigorous
and intrepid spirits who proclaim truth in all the splendour and
dignity with which their own genius has clothed her, and who, not
satisfied with the glory of discovering her, aspire to that of suffering,
and, if need be, of dying for her. I shall always respect F^n^lon
writing " TeUmachut " in the court of Louis XIV., and Sir Thomas
More publishing the *^ Utopia " in the palace of Henry VIII. These
noble spirits haUow the age, which dishonoured itself by persecut-
ing them. But while one sheds tears of pity and admiration at die
thought of such heroical self-devotion, one regrets that the human
mind should not have benefited by them as it ought. I come, my
friend, to the conclusion, that to sacrifice oneself for truth is not
he way to ensure its triumph. Persecution, which spreads the
progress of error, arrests that of reason; and philosophers do not.

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1786. MIRABEAU, ETC. 225

dans I'exil, dans ]e8 prisons, et sous la hacfae des bourreaux.
Peut-etre il y a eu des pays et des siScles oh la v6rit6 ]a
plus hardie, presentee tout k coup k un peuple souverain,
persuade k une multitude immense par I'ascendant de la
parole, pouvait faire une revolution aussitdt qu*elle 6tait
entendue ; et il 6tait beau de 8*immoler k cette esp6rance.
Parmi nous, ce n'est qu'avec le temps que la v6rit6 pent
vaincre les prejug^s ; il faut qu'elle r^gne non avec Teclat
d'une nouvelle creation du g6nie, mais avec cette force
invisible, de la raison g^n^rale, qui a severs^ les erreurs,
sans qu'on ait entendu le bruit de leur chiite.

Voili, mon cher Romilly, sous quels rapports ce Fon-
tenelle, que j'ai si longtems m^pris^, peut-Stre parceque
e'est de tons les hommes d'esprit celui dont la nature
m'a fait le plus dissemblable : voila sous quels rapports
Fontenelle me semble trds-remarquable. Fontenelle
paratt voir dans la v6rit6 cette statue antique d'Isis,
couverte de plusieurs voUes. II croit que chaque sidcle
doit en lever un, et soulever seulement un autre pour le
siecle suivant : il connatt les hommes et U les craint, non
seulement parcequ'ils peuvent faire beaucoup de mal,
mais parcequ'il est tr^s-difficile de leur faire du bien ; et

like fanatics, multiply in exile, in prison and under the axe of the
executioner. Perhaps there may have been a country and an age
in which the boldest truth, announced on a sudden to a sovereig^i
people, forced upon the attention of an immense multitude by all
the powers of eloquence, might have given birth to a revolution at
the very moment of its utterance; and it were noble to sacrifice
oneself to such a hope as this. But in our days, time only can
give to truth the victory over prejudice ; with us the reign of truth
is not the dazzling sway of some new creation of genius, but it is
the imperceptible influence of general intelligence, by which error
18 overmrown without the sound of its fall being heard.

This is the point of view, my dear Romilly, in which this Fon-
tenelle, whom^I have so long despised, only perhaps because of all
men of genius he is the one to whom nature has made me the most
unlike, appears to me to be so remarkable. Truth seems in his
eyes to be like that ancient statue of Isis which was covered with
many veils. He thinks that every age should remove one veil, and
only raise the next for the age which is to follow. He knows
men, and he fears them, not only because they are capable of do-
ing much harm, but because it is very difficult to do them any good :
and he has found the means of doing them good by the practice of

TOL. I. Q

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226 LETTERS FROM March,

il en a trouv^ les moyens dans un art qui n*aurait jamais
€te, sans doute, celui d*un caractire plus ^nergique et
plus imp6tueux, mais qui a fait servir sa timidit6 m^me
et sa discretion k un grand progr^s de Tesprit philoso-
phique. Tantot il se courbe un instant devant une erreur
du siecle, et se releve de ce respect contraint en frappant
en sa presence une erreur toute semblable qui a trompe
toute I'antiquite. D'autrefois il met k c6t6 d'elle une
v6rit6 qu'il semble lui sacrifier et lui soumettre, mais qui
est sure de triompher, pourvu qu'on I'y laisse, meme a
ce prix. Souvent il 6tale les pr^juges avec toutes leurs
pretentions, et leur accorde mSme ce qu'ils refusent, pour
ne pas paraitre trop absurdes. Dans les occasions o^ ils
attendent un homms^e, il passe en silence, et ce silence
est toujours place dans Tendroit oii on Tentend le mieux
et oi\ il offense le moins ; quelquefois, au contraire, il se
presse de parattre sans n6cessit6 soumis et ob6issant, et
montre par la des tyrans injustes et soup9onneux dont il
faut se d^fier. En g6n6ral, au lieu d'attaquer les erreurs
les unes aprds les autres, il s'attache a d^voiler, k tarir
dans I'esprit humain les sources d'oii elles naissent; il
6claire et fortifie la raison qui doit les renverser toutes, et

an art which would doubtless never have been the expedient of a
more energetic and impetuous character, but which in him has
made even timidity and discretion subservient to the progress of the
spirit of philosophy. At one time he bows down for a moment
before an error of his own age, and then, raising himself from this
constrained attitude of respect, in its very presence he crushes an
exactly similar error which has deluded all antiquity. At another
time, he places by the side of error a truth which he appears to
sacrifice and subject to her, but which is sure to be triumphsmt pro-
vided only she be allowed to remain there, in spite of all risks.
Often he parades prejudices in all their pretensions, and even grants
them that which, from the fear of appearing too absurd, they do not
claim. At those times, whea homage is expected from him, he is
silent ; and this silence always occurs at a place where it will best
be understood, and give least offence. Sometimes, on the other hand,
he goes out of his way to appear unnecessarily submissive and
obsequious, and by so doing shows that there are unjust and suspi-
cious tyrants whom one must distrust. In general, instead of
attacking errors one by one, he devotes himself to the task of dis-
closing and drying up in the human mind the sources whence tiiey
spring. He aims at giving new light and strength to that human

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^^8^- MIRABEAU, ETC. 227

par la leur suscite un ennemi Eternal : ainsi il les combat
par ses respects, les d^tniit par ses hommages, les perce
de toutes parts de traits dont elles n'ont das le droit de se
plaindre, et quoiqu'elles aient toujours Foeil sur lui,
comme sur rennemi le plus dangereux, il vit, il meurt
en paix au milieu d'elles.

N'en d^plaise a ma v6h6mence, mon cher ami, cette
methode pourrait bien gtre la meilleure, et n'gtre pas
moins estimable que la mienne, et certainement elle vaut
mieux pour la tranquillity individuelle ; mais comme elle
n'est pas et ne sera jamais k mon usage, je commence a
ressentir un grand penchant pour la paresse, mgme celle
de la pens^e: et surtout des regrets tr^s-vifs pour le
temps que me consument le respect humain, Topinion
phantastique des autres hommes, et les conventions
sociales.

Mais voil^ beaucoup de bavardage pour vos yeux, et
peut-Stre pour votre esprit. Excusez-moi, mon Jher
Romilly ; j'ai besoin de distractions, et j'en cherche au
sein de votre amiti6, parcequ'elle m'est bien douce et bien
ch^re. Fale, et me ama.

Ce Mardi.

reason which is destined to be the destroyer of them all, and by this
raises up against them an everlasting enemy. Thus he attacks them
by treating them with respect, he destroys them by doing them
reverence, he pierces them on every side with shafts of which they
have no right to complain ; and although they have always their
eye upon him, as upon their most dangerous enemy, he lives he
dies, in peace in the midst of them. '

Without any disparagement to my own impetuosity, this method
may,' very possibly, my dear friend, be the best, and no less entitled
ix> respect than mine, and, as far as personal ease is concerned, un-
doubtedly it is the best ; but as it does not and never will suit my
character, 1 begin to feel a great inclination for idleness, even that
of mind, and above all a very lively regret for the time which human
observances, the fantastical opinions of other men, and ^e conven-
tions of society make me waste.

But your eyes, if not your head, will have had enough of this gar-
rulity. Excuse it, my dear Romilly ; I want something to divert my
thoughts, and I seek for it in the bosom of your friendship, because
it is very pleasmg and very dear to me. Fale, et me arna,

Tuesday.

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228 LETTERS FROM Maich,

Letter XXXVI.

FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.

LondreSt ee Vendredi,4 Mara, 1785.

GrSces k Ilndicible dtourderie de Baynes, dont je n'ai
jamais vu T^gal dans un homme aussi sage et aussi
studieux, vous avez k peine ma premiere lettre, mon bon
ami, ou vous ne I'avez pas, et je suis cependant tr^-tent6
de vous en 6crire une autre ; car I'absence de Madame
de * * * me laisse un mal-€tre auquel je ne puis 6chapper.
Oh, combien les &mes sensibles 6prouvent les besoins du
occur plus que les autres n^cessit^s de la vie ! La mienne
est une suite d*exp£riences sur les infirmit^s du coeur
bumain; et je voudrais bien trouver 1e terme oi!i il ne
pent plus soufirir, afin d'etre siir du moins une fois d'avoir
^puis6 ma destin6e.

J'aurais 6t6 vous chercher si vous eussiez 6t6 ici. J'ai
6t6 voir Baynes; mais cet homme excellent d'ailleurs
analyse toujours, et moi j'ai besoin d'etre senti. Diriez-
vous oii, press^ de la n6cessit6 de m'attendrir et d'Stre
triste, j'ai 6t6 ? Dans les hdpitaux ; et en v6rit6 je n'en
ai pas 6t6 content, quoique Elliot m'ait montr6 les

Lbttee XXXVI.

London, Friday, March 4, 1785.
Thanks to the unspeakable thoughtlessness of Baynes, which I
never before saw equalled in so steady and studious a man, you have
hardly got my first letter, my good friend, or you have it not, and
yet I am much tempted to write you another ; for Madame de
* * *^s absence leaves me in a state of wretchedness which I cannot
get rid of. Oh ! how much does an affectionate disposition feel the
yearnings of the heart more than all the other wants of life ! Mine
is a succession of experiments on the infirmities of the human heart,
and I would gladly find the period when it may cease to suffer,
that I might, for once at least, feel sure of having exhausted my
destiny.

I should have looked for you, had you been here. I went to see
Baynes; but that man, however excellent in other respects, is always
analysing, and I want sympathy. Would you guess whither, im-
pelled by the desire of indulging in my feelings of emotion and
sadness, I went? To the hospitals; and, indeed, I was not pleased
with them, though Elliot showed me the best as well as the worst.

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1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 229

meiUeurs comme les plus mauvais. J'aurais mille choses
^ dire ; mais je ne veux vous parler que d*une, qui, menant
a des id6es gdnerales, vous fera mieux supporter mon
bavardage.

Tous les hSpitaux, tous les lieux oA Ton recueille les
infirmes, les enfans trouv^s, les mendians, les fols, &c. &c. ;
toutes ces maisons sont 6tabliea dans les villes. Pourquoi
ne les transporte-t-on pas des villes, qu'elles infecten^ et
qui les infectent, dans les campagnes, et surtout dans les
campagnes les plus 61oign6es, dans les d6serts ; car tous
les royaumes, et meme TAngleterre, ont des deserts ?

I''. Les enfans, plus sensibles k toutes les impressions
de I'air, prennent et communiquent les maladies con-
tagieuses avec une extr@me facilite; et chez eux, dans
ces petits corps spongieux, pour ainsi dire, toutes les
maladies sont contagieuses. Dans les hospices des villes,
o^ on les amoncele les ims sur les autres, il y a une con-
tagion fix6e parmi eux, et Ton pent dire qu*ils vivent
toujours avec une maladie mor telle. Dans les campagnes
on les placerait k d'assez grandes distances pour couper
ais^ment toutes les routes de contagion k leurs maladies.
De cela seul rdsulterait trois grands biens : on en con-
serverait infiniment davantage; Fair des villes serait
d61ivr6 d'un grand foyer de corruption ; et Tentretien de

I have a thousand things to say, but I will keep to one, which, as it
leads to general principles, will better enable you to bear with my
tediousness.

All hospitals, all institutions for the reception of the infirm, of
foundlings, beggars, lunatics, &c. &C., are established within towns.
Why are they not removed from towns, which they infect, and which
infect them, to the country, and indeed to the most distant parts of
the country, 'to deserts; for sJl kingdoms, even England, have deserts ?

1°. Children, who are more susceptible to influence from the
atmosphere, take and give contagious disorders with extreme facility,'
and with them, in their little spongy bodies, so to speak, all diseases
are contagious. In town hospitals, where they are huddled one
upon anotiier, contagion is settled amongst them ; and it may almost
be said that they live with a mortal disease. In the country they
would be placed at distances from each other, suflScient to cut off
with ease all access to contagion. From this alone would result
three great advantages : the lives of many more would be preserved ;
the air of towns would be freed from a great hot-bed of corruption ;
and ^e funds of the establishment would be relieved from the

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230 LETTERS FBOM Mareh,

ces maisons serait soulag6 des frais de tous les remddes
qu'on fait prendre k ces enfans continuellement malades.

2°. N'est-il pas Strange que ce soit dans les villes oii
le luxe ench6rit tout, oii Topulence mSme et Tindustrie la
plus active ont tant de peine k vivre, qu*on place des
maisons qui doivent subsister de la charite du gouveme-
ment ou de la nation? Qu^on les transporte dans les
campagnes, oii tout est k meilleur march6, leur enti'etien
coiitera un tiers, une moitie, deux tiers de moins, suivant
les lieux, et ce qu'elles consommeront sera une source de
f6condit£ pour ces mSmes campagnes.

3°. Ici meme, et peut-ltre autant ici que partout
ailleurs, les employes a la regie de ces maisons d6poui]lent
le pauvre des deniers donnes par la charity publique, et
s'enrichissent en d^robant le pain k la faim d^vorante, en
volant k Tenfant qui se meurt le remdde qui devait lui
sauver la vie .... Le brigand couvre souvent la nudit6
du pauvre ; le plus feroce assassin soutient Thomme qui
tombe en difaillance, et dans ces administrations ....
C'est le crime qui accuse k la fois, qui outrage, et qui
r^volte le plus Thumanit^. II ne peut 6tre commis que
dans les lieux oii les plus grands excSs sont devenus des

ezpeDM of all those remedies which must be given to these children
who are constantly ill.

2*. Is it not strange that it should be in towns, where luxury en-
hances) the price of everything, where even opulence and the most
active industry find it so difficult to live, that these establishments,
which must subsist on the charity of government or of the people,
should be placed ? Let them be removed to the country, where
everything is cheaper, the cost of maintaining them will, according
to the situation, be one-third, one-half, two-thirds less, and what
they consume will be a source of prosperity to the neighbouring
country.

3*. Even here, and perhaps as much here as elsewhere, the officers
of these establishments strip the poor of the pittance given by public
charity, and enrich themselves in pilfering bread from those who are
famishing with hunger, and in robbing from the dying child the reme-
dies which were intended to save its life Tlie highwayman

often covers the nakedness of the poor, the most ferocious assassin
supports the fainting man, and in these establishments . . • . It is
the crime which at once accuses, outrages, and most revolts humanity.

It can only be committed in places where the greatest excesses ai«
become necessities — ^where, from the constant excitemeutand prompt

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1783. MIRABEAU. ETC. 231

besoins, ou les passions, sans cesse irrit^es et toujours
promptement satisfaites, font passer continuellement les
£^mes du dSlire, de la'fureur de d^sir, k cet assoupisse-
meut des volupt6s et de la moUesse dans lequel on n'a
pas la force d'avoir un sentiment ; oil Ton est cruel et
barbare par Timpuissance de recevoir les donees Amotions
de la pitie. II ne pent ^tre commis que dans les lieux o^
les objets de luxe vous cacbent, pour ainsi dire, la nature ;
oil la foule vous d6robe a chaque instant k vous-meme ;
oill le bruit des plaisirs 6touffe etfait taire la voix int^rieure
de r^e et de la conscience ; oii, vivant continuellement
dans des spectacles qui ne sont qu'illusions, on finit par
oublier qu'on est homme et qu*on vit avec des hommes.
Un tel crime ne peut Stre commis que dans les villes k
grand luxe. Dans les campagnes, oii Ton ne sent gu^re
que les besoins de la nature, o^ les passions sont moins
s6ductriceB et moins enivrantes, on ne voit rien qu'on
soit tent^ d'acheter par un si grand crime. Les adminis-
trateurs, restant continuellement pres des enfans mal-
heureux confies k leurs sokis, entendraient mieux k la
fois, dans le silence des campagnes, et la voix de leur
conscience et le cri de Tinfortune. lis seraient pitoyables
et bons meme par int^ret personnel.

gratification of the passions, the minds of men pass continually from
Sie delirium, the frenzy of desire, to that lethargic state of volup-
tuousness and effeminacy which deprives men of the power of feel-
ing, which makes them cruel ana barbarous, from their inability
to receive the soft emotions of pity. It can only be committed in
those places where nature is in a manner concealed by objects of
luxury, where the crowd every moment draws you away from your-
self, where the sound of pleasure stifles and silences the inward voice
of sympathy and of conscience, where, living constantly amidst
sights which are but an illusion, one ends by forgetting that one is a
man, and that one lives with men. Such a crime can on]y be com-
mitted in towns of great luxury. In the country, where few desires
but those of nature are felt, where passions are less seductive and
less intoxicating, one sees nothing one is tempted to purchase at the
price of so great a crime. The officers of the establishment, remain-
ing constantly with the unfortunate children intrusted to their care,
would, in the silence of the country, be more alive both to the voice
of their conscience and to the cry of misfortune. They would become
kind and compassionate even from self-interest

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232 LETTEBS FROM ' M»nh,

II se pr^sente une objection, et elle est unique, k ce
que je crds. On peut dire que des maisons dloignees des
grandes villes, oii sont aussi les grandes fortunes, ne se-
raient pas aussi bien plac^es pour attirer sur elles les
bienfaits de la charity ; en les perdant de vue, la piti^
s'affoiblirait peut-Stre ; elles ne s'enrichiraient plus des
expiations du crime, et des dons g6n6reux de la vertu^
Mais, mon ami, je ne crois point que ce soient les mouve-
mens fugitifs et instantan^s de la piti6 qui attirent des bien-
faits sur ces maisons. Elles sont trds-peu connues dans
les grandes villes au milieu desquelles elles sont plactes ;
elles y sont aussi cach6es qu'elles pourraient I'^tre dans
les campagnes ; c'est le sentiment r^flechi et constant de
rhumanit6 qui leur portent des pr6sens, et ces deux sen-
timens savent aller chercher loin les objets de leur lib^-
ralit6. C*est commun^ment par les der nitres volont^s de
la vie, par les testamens qu'on leur laisse des biens, et la
pensee d'un homme qui dispose de sa fortune pour les
temps otk il ne sera plus n'est pas plus ^loign^e des mal-
heureux qui sont k cinquante lieues de lui que de ceux
qui sont k ses cdt^s. Les reflexions, et les relations, et
les lumidres, en r^pandant au loin le sentiment de Thu-
manite, Tout peut-Stre affoibli, mais elles Tout singulidre-
ment ^tendu. On pleure moins, on secourt davantage.

One objection presents itself, and one only, as I believe. It may
be said that establishments at a distance from large towns, where are
also the large fortunes, would not be so well placed to attract the be-
neficence of charity ; in losing sight of them, compassion would di-
minish, perhaps ; they would no longer be enriched by the expiations
of crime, and the generous gifts of virtue. But, my friend, I do not
believe that it is from momentary and fleeting emotions of pity that
these institutions derive their benefactions. They are very little
known in those large towns in the midst of which they stand; they
are there as much out of sight as they could be in the country ; it is
the matured [and the lasting feeling of humanity which brings offer-
ings to them,and these two feelings travel far in search of objects for
their liberality. It is usually by tiie last dispositions of life, by wills,
that property is left to them ; and the thoughts of a man who dis-
poses of his fortune for the time when he shall be no more are not
farther removed from the unhappy beings who are fifty leagues off
than from those who are by his side. Reflection, intercourse and
information, in spreading far the feelings of humanity, may perhaps
have weakened, but have singularly extended, them. Fewer tears

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I7S6. MIRABEAU, ETC. 233

La piti6 prompte etpassionn^e est la g^n^rosit^ dessiecles
barbares; ]a g^n^rosiU r6fl^hie et combin^e est la piti^
des siScles 6clair68. II ne faut done pas croire que la
source des cbarit^s particulieres et publiques tartt dans
les yilles, si Ton en ^loignait les bospices des^nfans trou-
y^s ou des mendians ; elle coulerait en ref£condant dans
sa route jusqu'aux lieux 61oign6s oii Ton transporterait
ces maisons.

£t si tant d'avantages ne regardent que ces bospices
mSmes, remarquez, mon ami, qu*il s*en pr^sente de bien
plus considerables pour la nation enti^re. On s*est plaint
de tons temps, et depuis un demi si^cle les plaintes ont
singuli^rement redouble en Angleterre ce me semble
comme en France, de ce pencbant aveugle et funeste qui
fait abandonner k tous les bommes les campagnes pour
les yilles, qui peuple les ateliers des arts et des manufac-
tures des bommes qui manquent k la culture des cbamps.
L'6tabli8sement des maisons de cbarit6 dans les villes est
tr^s-propre k entretenir, k augmenter ce d^sordre. Les
enfans qu'ou y nourrit ne peuvent 6tre 61ev6s que pour
les metiers et pour les villes ; le travail sedentaire des
metiers tue les enfans, dont le premier besoin est de
courrir, de sauter, et de s'^battre. Et c'est Ik sdrement
line des causes de la mortality effrayante dtablie dans ces
maisons. Si on les transporte dans les campagnes, les

are shed ; more anistance giwen. Quick and impusioned pity is
the generonty of barbarous ages; well considered and combined
generosity the pity of enlightened times. It must not therefore be
supposed that the source of public and private charity would be
dried up in towns, if hospitals for foundlings or beggars were removed
from them ; it would flow on fertilizing in its course to the most
distant spots in which Ihese buildings might be placed. And if
these numerous advantages concern the hospitals alone, observe, my
friend, that much more important ones result to the whole nation.
Complaints have at all times been made, and for half a century they
have wonderfully increased in England, as it seems to me, as well as
in France, against the blind and fieital inclination which induces all
people to abandon the country for towns, which peoples <he work-
shops of art and manufacture with the men who are wanted for the
cultivation of the fields. Charitable establishments in towns tend
much to maintain and increase this evil. Children bred Ihere can
only be brought up for trade and for town ; the sedentary employ-
ment of trades kills children, whose first want is to run, to jump and
play about; and this is no doubt one of the causes of the frightful

234 LETTERS FROM March.

etifans que F^tat y nourrit seront nourris et 61ev6s pour
les campagnes. Le gouvernement, qui aura toujours dans
ses mains cette source de population, la repandra, la dis-
tribuera k son gr6 sur les terres d'un royaume ; et tandis
que les vices naturels de la soci6t6 entratnent les hommes
des campagnes dans les villes, les lumi^res du gouverne-
ment les feront refluer des villes dans les campagnes.
Produits la plupart par les vices des cit6s, ces infortun6s
enfans seront ^lev68 du moins dans les bonnes moeurs et
dans la simplicite des champs ; on se servira des fruits
mSme de la corruption pour en arrSter les progr^s ; alors
on en conservera davantage, et loin de craindre on pourra
d^sirer d'en voir augmenter le nombre. L'etat, qui fera
pour eux et par eux de grands 6tablis8emens de culture,
les regardera du m^me ceil que le laboureur regarde ses
nombreux enfans, dans lesquels il voit sa richesse. . . .
Je ne sais, mon ami, si ce ne sont pas la de bonnes specu-
lations pour TAngleterre, mais je sais que ce serait un
des mes grands ressorts en France. Adopt^s par le
gouvernement, le gouvernement aurait 16gitimement
sur ces enfans deux esp^ces de pouvoir, celui de
souverain et celui de pere ; il aurait un droit ab-
solu et sur leur Education et sur les fruits des travaux

mortality in these hospitals. If removed into the country, these
children, fed there at the expense of the nation, will be fed and
brought up for the country. Government, which will always have
this source of population at its command, will, at pleasure, spread
and distribute it throughout the kingdom; and thus, whilst the
vices natural to society draw mankind from the country to towns,
the wisdom of government will make the tide flow back from towns
to the country. These unhappy children, the produce for the most
part of the vice of cities, will at least be brought up in the good and
simple morals of the country. The fruits of corruption will them-
selves serve to arrest its progress ; a greater number will be preserved,
and this increase, far from being to be dreaded, will be to be de-
sired. The state, which will form, for them and by them, great
agricultural establishments, will look upon them in the same light
that the labourer looks upon his numerous family, in whom he sees
his wealth. I know not, my friend, whether these may not be good
speculations for England, but I know that it would be one of my
main resources in France.

The government which had adopted these children would have
two legitimate kinds of control over them, that of sovereign and that
of father ; it would have an absolute right over both their education

1785. MIJtABEAU, ETC 235

de toute leur premiere jeunesse. Que d'exp^riences et
que d'essais avantageux k ces enfans eux-memes et it la
nation entiere un gouvernement 6clair^ pourrait faire
dans la culture, dans la legislation, et dans les moeurs de
ces colonies naissantes ! Que d'antiques usages on pour-
rait y detruire ! Que de vues qui paraissent des syst^mes
y prendraient Tautorit^ des faits I Les pr^jug^s, les er-
reurs, les abus deviennent 6ternels en se transmettant des
p^res aux enfans. Ces enfans sans p^res se trouveraient
adopt^s par le gouvernement avec moins d'erreurs et de
pr6jug6s. Au sein d'un empire antique s'^l^verait, pour
ainsi dire, un nouveau peuple. En v6rit6, s'ils est quel-
ques moyens de peupler et de f6conder les landes de la
Normandie et de la Champagne, les d^sertesqui sont entre
Bayonne et Bordeaux, je crois qu'on les trouverait dans
ce nouvel emploi des enfans et des hommes renferm^s
dans les hospices de la nation.

Voild, un beau rSve, n'est-ce pas, mon ami ? mais vous
le trouvez trop long peut-Stre, et je finis. Pardon, mais
il est doux de r^ver au bonheur des hommes, tout m^chans
qu'ils sont, parceque ce n'est pas la faute du plus grand
nombre s'ils le sont ; il est doux d'y rSver surtout quand
on est tr^s-malheureux et on craint de se r^veiller. Vale,
et me ama. M.

and the produce of the labour of their early youth. How many ex-
periments, useful to the children themselves and to the whole nation,
might not an enlightened government make in the culture, the
legislation, and the morals of these infant colonies ! How many
old customs might they not abolish ! how many new ideas, which
pass for theories, would there acquire the authority of facts! Preju-
dices, errors, abuses, become eternal, by being transmitted from
father to son. These fatherless children would find themselves
adopted by government with less of error and less of prejudice.
From the bosom of an antiquated empire there would arise, as it
were, a new people. If, indeed, there are any means of peopling
and fertilizing the waste lands of Normandy and Champagne, the
deserts which lie between Bayonne and Bordeaux, I believe these
means would be found in turning to this new account children and
men now confined within the hospitals of the nation.

This is a fine dream, is it not, my friend ? but you find it too long,
perhaps, and I have done. Forgive me, but it is pleasing to make
dreams for the happiness of men, wicked though they be, for it is
not the fault of the greater number if they be so ; it is pleasing to
indulge in such dreams, above all when one is very unhappy, and
when one fears to awake. Fakj et me ama, M.

236 .LETTEBS FROM March,

Letter XXXVIL
from the count de mirabeau.

[Lon^res, ce 5 Man, 1785.}

Vous saurez, mon ami, que je suis devenu si phi-
losophe, si sage, si insouciant, qu'une conversion si
prompte, si complete, est un vrai ph6nom6ne. Vous
saurez que j'ai entendu hier M. Gibbon^ parler, comme
un des plus plats coquins qui existent, sur la situation
politique de TEurope, et que je n'ai pas dit un mot, quoi-
que des la premiere phrase de M. Gibbon sa morgue et
son air insolent m'eussent infiniment repousses. Vous
saurez que, press6 par votre candide ami le Marquis de
Lansdowne de dire mon avis, je me suis content^ de pro-
fSrer ce peu de mots : " Je n^entends rien a la politique,
et .^urtout rien k celle de M. Gibbon ; mais je crois que je
puis assez bien deviner les motifs des 6crivains politiques,
parceque, solitaire et studieux, j'ai Thabitude de d6meler
dans les 6crits d'un homme de lettres ses principes, et les

Letter XXXVII.

Loudon, March 5, 1785.
Yoa must know, my dear friend, that I am become so philo*
sopbical, so rational, and so indifferent, that such a speedy and com*
plete conversion is positively a phenomenon. You must know that
yesterday I heard Mr. Gibbon ^ talk like one of the most arrant knaves
in existence upon the political state of Europe, and that I did not
utter a word, although I was infinitely disgusted with the air of
insolent confidence which accompanied his very first sentence. You
must know that, urged by your candid friend the Marquis of Lans-
downe to give my opinion, I contented myself with delivering these
few sentences : — *< I understand nothing of politics, and especially
nothing of Mr. Gibbon's politics; but I think I can pretty well guess
the motives of political writers, because, solitary and studious in my
habits, I am accustomed in the writings of a man of letters to make

This is a mistake of Mirabeau's. Gibbon was at this time at

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Uu«mDe. Seea„<^,p.62. ^ ,,GoOgk

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 237

principes sont la clef de tout. Or, j'ai lu T^l^gante his-
toire de M. Gibbon, et cela me suffit. Je dis son eUgante,
et non pas son estimable histoire, et void pourquoi. Jamais,
k mon avis, la philosophie n'a mieux rassembl6 les lu-
mi^res que T Erudition peut donner sur les temps anciens,
et ne les a dispos^es dans un ordre plus heureux et plus
facile, Mais, soit que M. Gibbon ait H€ s^duit, ou qu*il
ait voulu le parattre, par la grandeur de Tempire Romain,
par le nombre de ses legions, par la magnificence de ses
chemins et de ses cit6s, il a trace un tableau odieusement
faux de la fllicit^ de cet empire, qui 6crasait le monde et
ne le rendait pas heureux. Ce tableau mSme il I'a pris
dans Gravina, au livre de Imperio Romano, Gravina
m^rite indulgence, parcequ'il 6tait excusS par une de ces
grandes id6es dont le g6nie surtout est si facilement la
dupe. Comme Leibnitz, il 6tait occup6 du projet d'un
empire universel, form^ de la reunion de tons les peuples
de TEurope, sous les mSmes lois et la m6me puissance ;
et il cherchait un exemple de cette monarchic universelle
dans ce qu'avait 6t^ Tempire Romain depuis Auguste.
Monsieur Gibbon peut nous dire qu'il a eu la mSme id^e ;
mais encore lui r6pondrai-je qu'il 6crivait une histoire, et
ne faisait pas un syst^me. D'ailleurs cela n'expliquerait

oat his principles, and principles are the key to everything. Now,
I have read Mr. Gibbon's elegant history, and that is enough for me.
I say his elegant, not his veUuable history, and for this reason : Never,
in my opinion, has philosophy more skilfully collected together the
information which erudition can afford respecting ancient times, nor
arranged it in a happier and more natural order. But whether
Mr. Gibbon has really been led away, or has wished to appear to
be so, by the greatness of the Roman empire, by the number
of its legions, by the magnificence of its roads and of its cities,
he has dnwn an odiously false picture of the felicity of that empire,
which crushed the world and did not make it happy. This picture
too he took from Gravina, in his book de Imperio Romano. Gra-
vina is entitled to indulgence, for he is excused by one of those
great ideas of which genius especially is so easily the dupe. Like
Leibnitz, he was taken up with the project of an universal empire,
formed by an union of all the nations of Europe, under the same
laws and the same authority, and he sought for an example of this
universal monarchy in the Roman empire from the time of Au-
gustus. Mr. Gibbon may tell us that he entertained the same idea,
but to this I should reply that he was writing a history, not found-
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238 LETTERS FROM March,

point, et surtout cela n'excuserait pas I'esprit g6n6ral de
son ouvrage, oii se montre h, chaque instant ramour et
Testime des richesses, le goiit des volupt^s, Pignorance
des vraies passions de rhomme, Tincr^dulit^ surtont pour
les vertus ripublicaines. En parcourant FHistoire du Bas
Empire de M. Gibbon, j'aurais ais6ment devin6 que, si
I'auteur se montrait jamais dans les affaires publiques de
la Grande Bretagne, on le verrait pretant sa plume aux
ministres, et combattant les droits des Americains k Fin-
d6pendance: j'aurais aussi dcvin6 la conversation d'au-
jourd'hui ; T^loge du luxe et de rautorit6 compacte, comme
dit Monsieur. Aussi, je n'ai jamais pu lire son livre sans
m'6tonner qu'il fQt 6crit en Anglais. Chaque instant k
peu pr^s, comme Marcel, j'6tais tentd de m'adresser a
M. Gibbon et de lui dire, * Vous un Anglais ! Non, votts
ne Vites point Cette admiration pour un empire de plus
de deux cent millions d^hommest oii il h'y a pas un seul
homme qui ait le droit de se dire litre, cette philosophic
effiminee qui donne plus d'iloges au luxe et a/ux plaisirs
qu^aux'vertusy ce style toujours cligant et jamais Sner-
gique, annoncent tout au plus Vesclave d^un electeur
d^Hannore* " Diriez-vous, mon ami, que des paroles si
i6dulcor6es ayent paru irriter M. Gibbon, et qu'il m'ait dit

ing a system. Besides, this would not explain, still less would it
excuse, the general spirit of the work, which displays at every mo-
ment a love and respect for wealth, a taste for luxury, an ignorance
of the real paraions of man, and above all a disbelief in republican
virtue. In reading through Mr. Gibbon's History of the Lower
Empire, I should readily have guessed that, if the author ever came
forward in the public affairs of Great Britain, he would be seen
lending his pen to ministers, and contesting the right of the Ameri-
cans to independence. I should also have anticipated the conver-
sation of to-day, the praise of luxury and of * compact* authority, as
he is pleased to call it. Accordingly I never could read his book
without wondering that it should be written in English. At almost
every moment, I was tempted, like Marcel, to address Mr. Gibbon,
and to say to him, * You an Englishman ! No, that you are not.
This admiration for an empire of more than two hundred millions of
men, where there is not a single man who has the right to call him-
self free — this effeminate philosophy, which bestows more praise
upon luxury and pleasure than upon virtue — this style, always ele-
gant but never energetic, — proclaim, at the very best, the slave of an
dector of Hanover.' " Could you have supposed, my friend, that

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1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 239

qu'il n'y avait rien k r^pondre k des injures ? et moi, j'ai
ri . - . . Oh ! je vous assure que je fais de grands pro-
gres dans Tart de manager les hommes.

Au reste, men ami, notez deux choses que me dit liier
le Marquis, qui a r^ellement beaucoup d'esprit et d'id^es.
La premiere, bien digne de remarque, c'est qu'on lit dans
les Memoires de Bellecombe ^ qu'un capitaine, dont il ne
se rappela pas le nom, proposait, avant le milieu de ce
s^icle, de conqu6rir le Bengal e avec cinq cents hommes.
On le prit pour un fol. Cela met bien a leur juste mesure
les brigands post^rieurs qui voudraient se faire passer
pour des h6ros ; et cela prouve, ce que je pense depuis
longtemps, que la revolution de I'Am^rique s'est faite a
Londres, et celle de Tlndostan dans le Bengale, ex vis-
ceribus ret.

La seconde chose porte sur une idee belle et profonde.
** Je voudrais," dit le Marquis, **que Ton questionnit les
8c^l6rats convaincus, pour les 6tudier en philosophes^
apres les avoir interrog^s en magistrats pour les con-
damner. On gouverne les hommes, et on ne les connatt

words so softened down could have appeared to irritate Mr. Gibbon,
and that he could have told me that he had no reply to make to

abuse % As for me, I laughed Oh ! I assure you I make

great progress in the art of conciliating men.

In the mean time, my friend, observe two things which were said
to me yesterday by the Marquis, who is really very clever and very
full of thought. The first, which is well worthy of remark, was,
that in BeUeconAes ^ Memoirs it is said that an officer, whose name
he did not remember, offered, before the middle of the present cen-
tury, to conquer Bengal with five hundred men. He was taken for
a QGiadman. This places on a proper level the cutthroats of a later
date, who aim at being thought heroes; and it proves, what I have
long thought, that the revolution of America was made in London,
and that of Hindoostan in Bengal, ex viscerihus ret.

The second thing involves a fine and profound thought. <^ I
wish," said the Marquis, " that convicted criminals were questioned,
in order that they might be philosophically studied, after having
been magisterially examined with a view to their conviction. We
govern men, and we do not know them, we do not endeavour to

^ Probably Melcombe; see Diary of G. Bubb DodcUngton, Lord
Mekombe, who, in 1751, relates a proposal by Colonel Milles, to
conquer Bengal with 1500 men, p. 110, 4th edit.

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240 LETTERS FBOM Mansh,

point ; on ne fait rieif pour les connaitre." Cette pena^e
m*a paru grande, vraie, et touchante.

Un malheureux, accost d*im crime qui pent le mener
k r^^a&ud, est assis sor une sellette; on Tinterroge,
mais sur son crime uniquement, et, si son crime paralt
etabli, on Tenvoie k la mort sans liii rien demander de
plus. Chez nous, il se confesse k Voreille du ministre de
la religion, dans le sein du quel tous les secrets de sa vie
doivent se perdre. On ne doit plus que de la piti6 aux
criminels m@me, lorsquHls ont entendu leur sentence de
mort: car, des ce moment, ils ont d^j^subi leur plus
grande peine. Que le magistrat, qui la leur a prononc6e,
fasse succ^er k ce miniature, si terrible pour lui-mSme,
un minist^re qui le console d*avoir 6t^ aussi s^v^re que
la loi ; qu'en t^moignant de la piti6 et de la compassion
aux malheureux qu'il a 6t^ oblig6 de condamner, il p^
ndtre dansleurs dmes d^j^ d6chir6es par le repentir et par
la douleur; qu'il en obtienne I'aveu des fieitales circon-
stances qui les ont 6gar£s dans les voies du crime ! Que
de lumi^res ! quelle nouvelle connaissance de Thomme et
de la society on verra r6sulter de ces confessions faites
aux prStres de la loi I £t qu'on ne croie point qu'il fdt si
difficile d'obtenir ces revelations de la bouche de ces in-

know them." This thought appeared to me important^ true, and
affecting.

An unfortunate man, accused of a crime which may bring him
to the scaffold, is placed in the dock ; he is examined, but with re-
ference to his crime only, and, if that appear to be proved, he is sent
to death without another question being asked him. With us, he
makes his confession in private to the minister of religion, in whose
breast all the secrets of his life are to be buried. As soon as a
criminal has heard his sentence of death, our only feeling towards
him should be that of pity ; for from that moment he has already
suffered his greatest punishment. I would have the magistrate, who
has pronounced sentence against him, pass from the performance of
an office so terrible to one which may console him for having been
the instrument of the law's severity. Let him, by showing pity and
compassion for the wretches he has been obliged to condemn, pene-
trate into their breasts, already torn by remorse and grief, and draw
from them an avowal of the fatal circumstances which led them
astray into the paths of crime. How many new lights, what in-
creased knowledge of man and of society would ensue from these
confessions^ made to the ministers of justice ! And let it not be

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1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 241

fortunes. L'homine qui va mourir a bien peu de choses
k dissimuler. Interrogds par des magistrals qui connat-
traient la langue que rhumanit^ doit parler aux malheu-
reux, ils 6prouveraient k s'entretenir des vices qui les out
perdus, cette espece d'attrait que rhomme eprouve k ra-
conter ses malheurs. II est, d'ailleurs, dans la nature hu-
maine de trouver je ne sais quelle consolation, je ne sais
quel soulagement, k faire des aveux, dout on n'a rien a
craindre. II semble que TSme oppressee du poids de ses
remords le rejette, et s'en d61ivre, en faisant Taveu de ses
fautes ; et c*est ainsi que la confession m'a toujours paru
d'institution de nature, quoique bien dangereuse comme
institution divine ou politique.

Mais, mon ami, voici le troisi^me bavardage volumineux
que vous recevez de moi ; il est temps avant de continuer
de savoir si cela vous d^plait ou vous d6range. A votre
r^ponse done.

M. Hardy ^ laisse k toutes les portes un libeUe Anglais
centre moi.

L'Histoire de Geneve m'est irr^vocablement et exclu-
sivement abandonn^e, mais Dyer n'a pas remis une ligne.
. Diraanche, 5.

thought that it would be so difficult to draw such disclosures from the
moutiis of these unfortunate beings. The man who is about to die
has very little to conceal. If examined by a magistrate who knows
the language which humanity should employ towards the wretched,
they would experience, in speaking of the vices which have proved
their ruin, tHe same kind of pleasure as that which is felt by all men
in relating their misfortunes. It is, moreover, a part of human
nature to find I know not what of consolation and relief in making
confessions from which there is nothing to be feared. It would
seem that the mind, oppressed by the load of remorse, shrinks from
it, and throws it off by confessing its faults ; and thus it is that the
practice of confession has always appeared to me to have had its
origin in nature, however dangerous as a religious or political
institution.

But this is the third long rhapsody which you will have received
from me, my friend ; it is high time, before I go on, to know if this
annoys or disturbs you. I await your answer.

Mr. Hardy ^ is leaving at every door an English libel against me.
The History of Geneva is finally and exclusively given up to me ;
ItSit Dyer has not sent me one line.

^ See ante, p. 59.
VOL. I. R

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242

LETTERS FROM March,

Letter XXXVIII.

FROM MR. BAYNES.

Dear Romilly, London. March 7, 1785.

I dined yesterday with your brother; we had, as
usual, a very agreeable afternoon ; he is to go in your
stfed with Mr. M. into the House of Commons, in case
of your absence. It was yoiu- mother*s birthday; they
did not intend to tell me ; but I happened to have found
it out by accident previously, and, all on a sudden, I
drank your mother's health, congratulating her on the
occasion. They were all surprised, and we laughed most
heartily — an art in which, if loudness and frequency are
any merit, I surely excel. However, they soon guessed
that I had got my information at Kensington, whither I
had been on a walk with the Count.^

I dare say you are no more sorry than myself that the
scrutiny is ended. Mr. Fox's party keep within no
bounds of joy ; they have illuminated two or three nights,
and yesterday the rabble drew Mr. Fox to the House of
Commons.

The Count called upon me to-day, to desire me to
write to Johnson to insist on his finishing the translation,
and publishing it immediately. * Hardy has printed an
English libel against him, apparently translated from the
French of Linguet :— this, I trust, will be of no great
service to H. if he should bring his cause to a trial. The
Count complains bitterly of his hard fate, in losing
Madame de * * * and you at once. By his letter to
you, he seems to think my heart harder than adamant or
Marpesian rocks, in being so insensible to his distress.
For my part, as I well know that there are many persons
^who possess much finer feelings than myself, so, I trust,
I am far from being that unfeeling philosophizing mass
of clay which the Count seems to imagine me ; and

* Mirabeau. « See ante, p. 68.

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1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 243

though I douht not in the least the sincerity of his sor-
row, yet I own I am, on this occasion, much more dis-
posed to wish he had no greater cause of uneasiness.
One reason why he seems to think thus of me is pro-
bably a certain resrt-ve or backwardness (which, in other
respects, I do not possess) in expressing my affections
either of pity or regard to any other person. This is
perhaps a weakness, perhaps a fault, which I feel I pos-
sess, and which I cannot help attributing to the circum-
stance of my not meeting with a friend whose disposition
exactly suited me till very late in life. This, however,
if a fault, will I trust be readily excused by you ; particu-
larly as, on many occasions, I cannot help fancying that I
have seen you feel much more than you have ventured or
had the courage to express. I do not know whether
I am not much bolder on paper than in conversation in
expressing as well my own uneasinesses as my regards.
I think I have observed the same in you. However this
may be, I hope you will not think me the more insensible
because I do not always express my sensations ; nor in-
sincere, when I assure you that I do really feel a great
want of your company. I have even the pleasure to hope
you will believe me when I assure you that your friend-
ship is the principal source of my present happiness ; and
that it is my greatest consolation to reflect that we shall
never probably be far or long separated during our lives.
"Equidem ex omnibus rebus, quas mihi aut fortuna
aut natura tribuit, nihil habeo, quod cum amicitial Sci-
pionis possim comparare. In h^c mihi de republics^ con-
sensus, in h^c rerum privatarum consilium; in eidem
requies plena oblectationis fuit" (I wish I might add,
*• nunquam ilium ne minimi quidem re offendi, quod qui-
dem senserim") ; " nihil audivi ex eo ipse, quod noUem.
Una domus erat, idem victus, isque communis: neque
solum militia, sed etiam peregrinationes rusticationesque
communes." *

Yours, dear Romilly, ever sincerely,

J. B.

Tuesday, 8th.

^ Cic. de Amicit.

R 2

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244 LETTERS FBOM Maich,

Lettee XXXIX.

FROM MR. BAYNES.
Deax Romilly, Gray's Inn, March 16. 1785.

The Count is delighted with your letter ; he is de-
termined you shall be a great man ; and, from the con-
versation I had with him this morning in confidence, I
have great reason to think that he has spoken of you in
such terms to Lord Shelburne as to induce Lord S. to
offer you a seat in Parliament. ' I doubt not but that you
will be astonished at this information ; it is, however, my
firm opinion that some such plan is in agitation. I col-
lect it only from what passed between the Count and me
this morning. The terms offered wUl, I doubt not, be
very liberal. Though my information is founded only
on the Count's ideas, which are in general very sanguine,
yet I see no reason to doubt his accuracy in this account
At all events, I thought it would be the best to tell you
my suspicions ; as it would be very unpleasant for you to
be attacked unprepared upon so important a subject.
I wish you would give me a line, immediately or as soon as
possible, with the rough sketch of your ideas of this pro-
pose]. Pray consider it well. I will then tell you mine
very freely.

Yours sincerely,

J.B.

Letter XL.

FROM the count DE MIRABEAU.
Mon Ami, [Londres,] 18 Mars, 1785.

Je ne vous r6pondrai pas, parceque je suis ficrase
d'ouvrage inattendu ; mais je vous dirai du moins combien

Lettbr XL.
My dear Friend, London, March 18, 1785.

I will not reply to you, because I am overwhelmed with unex-
pected business ; but I will at least tell you how much your letter

^ See ante, p. 64.

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I

1785. MIRABEA.U, ETC. 245

votre lettre m'a touch6, combien elle porte Tempreinte
d'un cceur tendre et d'une iuae honn^te, et quel charme
ce didcia sunto ^ r6pand sur les plus grands talens et sur
les plus fortes conceptions de I'esprit. Je sens comme
vous avez senti dans votre lettre, quoique je ne pense pas
sur ce sujet comme vous pensez ; parcequ'il est impossible
k ma raison de donner son assentiment k la seule Amotion.
On ne me ripond pas, metis peut-Stre on m'entend; ces
mots touchans, prof6r6s sur Tume cin6raire d'un ami,
m'ont toujours paruce qu'on pouvaitdire de plus Eloquent
en faveur de Pimmortalit^ de I'dme; et si je ne puis
trouver k cette th^orie qu'un attrait, et non pas une Evi-
dence portant conviction, ni mdme une probability en-
tratnant persuasion, cet attrait m'a toujours sembl6 assez
vif pour non seulement excuser, mais aimer et louer ceux
qui admettent ce dogme, quoique leurs argumens me
paraissent incomplets et d^fectueux. Et plut au Fabrica-
teur des mondes que le grand ressort qu'il a mis en nous,
la sensibility, n*e(it jamais entratnE notre ^espece k des
illusions plus dangereuses, k des paralogismes plus funestes I
Quoiqull en soit, mon ami, si vous avez cru me faire un

has touched me, how deeply it bears the stamp of a tender heart
and an honest mind, and what a charm these ^ dulda sunto ^" diffuse
over the gpreatest tsdents and the most vigorous conceptions of the
intellect.

I feel as you felt in your letter, although I do not think upon this
subject as you think : because it is impossible for my reason to give
its assent to feeling alone. <' I am not answered, but perhaps I am
heard r these affecting words, uttered over the grave of a friend,
have always appeared to me the most eloquent thing that could be
said in favour of the immortality of the soul; and if in this theory
I can find but a charm, and not evidence amounting to conviction,
or even a probability carrying with it persuasion, still it is a charm
which has always appeared to me attractive enough not only to
excuse, but to make one love and praise those who admit this dogma,
although to me their arguments appear incomplete and defective.
And would that it had pleased the Creator of worlds that sensi.
bility, the great elastic principle with which he has endowed us,
had never seduced our species into more dangerous illusions, into
more fatal paralogisms! Be that as it may, my friend, if you

^ Non satis est pulchra esse poemata ; dulda sunto,
Et quocunque volent, animum auditoris agunto.

Hor. deA.P. 99.

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246 LETTERS FROM March,

sermon, je vons dirai, sermonnez-moi toujours ainsi ; la
poesie de votre ^me vaut mieux -X la mienne que la logique de
mapauvre tSte, qui, dans ce genre, apres avoir bien travailM,
ne fait guSre que substituer des difficult^s a des difficultes.
Je vous attends avec impatience, mon bon ami, non pas
seulement parceque vous voir et causer avec vous est
devenu un des plus vifs et des plus pr^cieux besoins de
mon coBur et de mon esprit, mais parceque je suis tres-
tromp^ ou il s'ouvreune carriere digne de vous, et propre
k donner I'essor k vos grands talens. On m'a fait des
propositions k votre sujet qui ne blesseront pas votre
d61icatesse, puisqu'elles n'ont point effarouch6 la mienne,
et qui vous prdsagent un nouvel ordre de choses. Je sais
ce que votre damnable timidity et votre aimable modestie
vont me r^pondre; mais, mon ami, je vous r6p6terai
pour la millidme fois qu'un homme fort doit avoir le
sentiment de sa force, et que la sauvagerie n'est pas la
modestie, ni la timidity la circonspection. Heureusement
on a dans ce pays le tres-bon esprit de mettre moins de
prix aux graces que partout ailleurs ; mais il estcependant
une vacillation de contenance qui nuit partout, et le tr&-
petit et frivole talent de costumer sa personne et son

thought to read me a lecture, I will say to you, lecture me ever
thus ; the poetry of your soul is better for mine thau the logic of my
poor head, which, on such matters, after having laboured hard, does
little more than substitute one difficulty for another.

I expect you impatiently, my good friend, not only because to
see you and to converse with you is become one of the most lively
and precious wants of my heart and mind, but because (unless I
much deceive myself) a career is about to be opened to you which
is worthy of you, and suited to the exercise of your great talents.
Proposals have been made to me on your behalf, wlucb will not
offend your delicacy, since mine has not been alarmed by them, and
which hold out to you the promise of a new order of things. I know
the answer your cursed timidity and amiable diffidence axe going
to make; but I will repeat to you, my friend, for the thousandth
time, that a powerful mind ought to have the consciousness of its
own power, and that shyness is not modesty, nor want of courage
prudence. Fortunately, in this country, people have the great
good sense to set less value upon external grace than in any other
part of the world, but nevertheless there is a certain want of self-
possession which is injurious everywhere; and the art of setting off
the person and demeanour, petty and frivolous as it is, is only to be

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1786. MIRABEAU, ETC. 247

attitude ne se gagne que dans le monde. Si done, par des
raisons tiroes de votre profession, ou de vos projets (car
il n'est aucune autre objection admissible lorsqu'on vous
appelle au rdle d'homme public sans conditions), vous ne
voulez pas accepter les propositions qui vous seront faites,
connaissez du moins, et voyez, ceux qui veulent vous les
faire. R6pandez-vous, voyez, soyez vu, montrez-vous,
formez-vous. Tout ce k quoi je me suis engage c'est k
vous amener, parceque je sais qu'un Stranger ne pent pas
conseiller dans les choses locales ; mais je me suis engage
k cela, et vous ne m'en d6direz pas ; car, dans un pays
libre, dans un pays oill il y a une patrie, un citoyen doit
conference a quiconque la lui demande sur des objets
d*utilit6 publique.

Tout ceci vous parattra peut-Stre du galimatbias, mon
ami, mais ce n'est rien moins qui cela, et vous en aurez
la clef k la premiere vue.— VcUe, et me ama.

Letter XLI.

FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.

[Paris,] 22 Mai, 1785.

Pour cette fois, mon bon et cher Romilly, et,sans tirer
k consequence, vous avez tort J'arrive ce soir k minuit k

acquired in the world. If then, for reasons drawn from your pro-
fession or plans in life (for when, unfettered by conditions, you are
called upon to take a part in public life, no other reason is admis-
sible), you will not accept the proposals which will be made you, at
all events know and see those who wish to make them. Mix in
society, see and be seen, show what you are, form yourself. I know
that in local matters a foreigner is not a safe adviser, and accord-
ingly all that I have engaged to do is to bring you with me : to so
much I am pledged, and you will not deny me ; for, in a free
country, one which is truly a mother country, a citizen is bound
to give audience to any one who may demand it of him on matters
of public utility.

All this may, perhaps, appear jargon to you, my friend ; it is
however, nothing less, I assure you, and I wUl give you the key to
it when we meet. Vale, et me ama.

Letter XLI.

Paris, May 22, 1785.

This time, my good and dear Romilly, (but without any dispa-
ragement to you), you are in the wrong. I reached Paris to-night

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248 LETTERS FROM Hay,

Paris : j'y trouve votre lettre, arriv^e de hier : et je n'ai
que le temps de vous dire que je viens de faire 900 lieues,
composer, imprimer, tirer, et brocher 300 pages k 2000
exemplaires ; que ce livre,^ bon ou mauvais, mais n6ce8-
saire pour sauver un bon ministre, et, qui plus est, une
banqueroute de quelques centaines de millions, a 6t6 com-
post, imprim^ en pays Stranger, rapport^, et mis en 4tat
d'etre distribue, en moins de cinq semains, parcequ'il de-
vait parattre avant le 1*' Juin : que ma toum6e, un peu
rapide comme vous voyez, se faisait en pays ou la moin-
dre chose qui m'edt d6cel6 me faisait pendre ou empaler :
que c'est \k la raison unique qui m'a empSche d'k^rire :
que cela m*a si peu emp^che de penser k mes amis que
ma petite, qui ne m'a rejoint qu*iL la fin, et quand j'ai eu
besoin d'elle pour la contrebande, a dd ^crire trois ou qua>
tre fois ; qu*enfin, en signe de souvenir, il est parti un
paquet de cinquante exemplaires de ce livre, oii je les rap-
pelle aux ordres de leurs graces MM. Elliot, Romilly,
Baynes, Vaughan, et Chauvet. La justification vous parai-
tra complete, mon ami, si vous y ajoutez que, le troisi-

at twelve ; I find your letter, which arrived yesterday ; and I have
now only time to tell you that I have trayelled 300 leagues, com-
posed, printed, struck off, and stitched 2000 copies of 300 pages
each ; uiat this book,^ whether good or bad, — but which was neces-
sary to save a good minister, and, what is more, to prevent a bank-
ruptcy to the extent of some huncbreds of millions, — -has been written,
pnnted in a foreign country (because it was essential that it should
appear before the 1st of June), brought back, and got ready for dis-
trioution, all in less than five weeks ; that my journey, somewhat
rapid, as you see, was in a country where the slightest thing which
had betrayed me would have sent me to the gallows or the stake ;
that this has been the only cause of my not writing to you, and has
so litde prevented me from thinking of my frieods, that my little dear,
who only joined me towards the end of my expedition, when she
was wanted for the smuggling, must have written not less than three
or four times ; that, to conclude, a parcel containing 50 copies of the
book has been sent off, in token of remembrance, to Messrs. Elliot,
Romilly, Baynes, Vaughan, and Chauvet, at whose disposal I beg
to leave them. My justification will appear to you complete, my
friend, if you add that the third day after my arrival from England

^ The work alluded to was probably the one entitled De la Banque
iFEtpagne, dite de St. CharUa, which was suppressed by the French
govenmient on the 17th of July, 1785.

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1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 249

eme jour apr^s mon arrivSe d'Angleterre, j'ai ^t6 saisi par
cette besogne, le onzi^me en course, car de fait, mes ma-
t^riaux une fois ramass^s, le livre a ^te fait dans les au-
barges ; que vos lettres ne me sont parvenues (sauf la v6tre)
qii'aprds des circnits immenses ; que deux me galoppent
et ne me sont point encore parvenues ; que je suis rendu
de fatigue plus que motiv6e par une expedition d*une
activite et d'une audace presque sans exemple ; qu'enfin,
si le prochain courrier je ne suis pas k la Bastille, vous
aurez tous trois ou quatre une grande lettre de moi. —
N. B. Que si j'y 6tais, Mde. de * * ♦ le manderait, et qu'il
ne faudrait pas beaucoup s'en efirayer.

Sur le tout, cher ami, aimez-moi comme je vous aime,
et montrez sur-le-champ cette lettre k Elliot et Baynes,
car il est temps qu*ils sachent ce qu'ils auraient dii deviner,
que j'etais incapable d'une negligence si coupable, et qu'il
fallait bien qu il y eut un dessous de carte qu'ils ignoraient.
VcUe^etme ama; car je tombe de sommeil, mais j'ai voulu
saisir le courrier.

Justifiez-moi aussi aupres de M. Vaughan.

I was engrossed by this work ; that on the eleventh I was on my
journey ^for, in truth, my materials once collected, the book was
written in inns); that all the letters of my English friends, with the
exception of your own, made enormous circuits before they reached
me, and that two of them are still in pursuit of me ; that I am ex-
hausted with fatigue more than accounted for by an expedition al-
most unexampled for its activity and boldness : and, finally, that,
by the very next post, if I am not then in the Bastille, you shall all
three or four have a long letter from me. — N.B. Tbkt, if I were
there, Mde. de * * * would send you word of it, and there would
be no great reason for alarm.

To sum up, my friend, love me as I love you, and show this letter
forthwith to Elliot and Baynes, for it is time they should know
what they ought to have guessed, that I was incapable of such cul-
pable neglect, and that of course there was something behind the
scenes of which they were not aware. Vale, et me ama ; for I am
dropping from my chair with sleep, but I was resolved to save the
post

Set me right also with Mr. Vaughan.

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250 LETTEBS FROM Dec. 1785.

Lettek XLII.

FROM THE MARQUIS OF LANSDOWNE.

Sir, Bowood Park, Dec. 25, 1785.

I should have thanked you sooner for the favour of
your letter, but deferred doing it till I had time to read
the book^ which accompanied it, with the attention
which anything coming from you will always command
from me. The principles of penal law is the subject of all
others upon which I am most ignorant and most unread.
However, your arguments, and the authorities to which
you refer, incline me to think that a revision of our penal
law is not only desirable, but necessary, for the purpose
of making it agreeable to the spirit of the times, and such
as can be executed.

Mr. Blackburne*s plan was stopped during my time at
the Treasury. I was assured that, if the number of ale-
houses could be lessened, the Vagrant Act enforced, and
the general administration of justice as it stood invigo-
rated, a great deal might be done without having recourse
to any new institution. As Parliament was not sitting,
nothing could be done about the public-houses; but a
proclamation was issued, and every method tried to bring
about the two last, and the effect answered the most san-
guine expectation. I see, by a late charge of Mr. Main-
waring's to the grand jury of Middlesex, that those most
'conversant in the police continue of the same opinion.
Under these circumstances, it was impossible for me to
consent to so great an expenditure upon a plan which I
plainly saw had been partially taken up, and the whole of
the subject not properly considered. No man would do so
in his private affairs ; and I still think it would be inexpe-
dient, in the double light of expenditure and punishment,
till the measures to which I allude have had a fair and

* Entitled Observations on a /ate Publication, entitled
" Thoughts on Executive Justice, by Madan:' See ante, p. 64.

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Feb. 1786. MIRABEAU, ETC. 251

effectual trial. Upon the change of ministry these mea-
sures were dropped ; and a number of persons confined
under the Vagrant Act were immediately set at liberty ;
who have made, if I am rightly informed, a material part
of those who have infested London since.

I propose to be in London in about a fortnight ; when
I shall be very glad of the pleasure of talking to you
upon this or any other subject.

I am, with great truth and regard. Sir,
Your most obedient humble servant,

Lansdowne. ,

Letter XLIIL
from sir gilbert elliot, i

Dear Sir, P»rk street. Feb. 10, 1786.

I thank you for the very excellent work * you have
favoured me with. As I am writing to yourself, I shall be
more reserved than with any other man I can converse
with on the subject ; but you mtist just give me leave to
wonder that you should feel the least desire to conceal the
name of the author. Your design is too honourable, I
think, to leave you much anxiety about the performance,
even if that were at all doubtful : but one is worthy of the
other, and you know, from me, c'est tout dire. I do assure
you, the perusal has given me the greatest pleasure, both
from the certainty of the very high credit you must derive
from it, and from the hope it affords me of seeing real
and extensive good result from our penal law and our ad-
ministration of criminal justice being treated with your
views and by your pen. I entreat you to go on.

I send you the paper you desired, and some others which
you may perhaps either have already or not want ; but
they may take their chance of serving you.

Believe me most sincerely, dear Sir,

Your faithful humble servant,
Gilbert Elliot.

^ Afterwards Lord Minto.

^ The work alluded to in the preceding letter.

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252 LETTEBS FROM June,

Letter XLIV.

FROM M. TARGET.

[Paris,] 19 Jain, 1796.

Recevez, Monsieur, tous mes remerctmens du bon
ouvrage que vous m'avez envoys. Je Tai lu avec TintfirSt
qu'inspire un grand objet sociaJ, et Pattendrifisement que
Ton ressent toujours k la lecture d'un 6crit dict6 par
Tamour de Thumanit^. Ces sentimens s'accroissent de
tout ce que peut y ajouter Tamiti^ que vous m'avez inarqu6e»
et dont je conserve un pr6cieux souvenir. Ecrivez, com-
battez toujours, Monsieur, pour la bienfaisance et pour I'u-
tilit6 publique ; c'est le meilleur emploi d'une vie qu'on perd
toutes les fois qu'on ne la consacre pasaux choses utiles.

Je suis d61ivr6 depuis peu de jours d'une affiure dont
toute r Europe a parl6 : vous savez sans doute quepar arret
du 31 Mai dernier, M. le Cardinal de Rohan a 6t£ d^
charge de I'accusation, et a obtenuune victoire pleine ; les
m^moires que j'ai faits pour lui sont k Londres ; il y en
a mSme une traduction Anglaise, que je d^irerais avoir si
cela ^tait possible.

Letter XLIV.

Paris, 19 June, 1786.
Accept my best thanks, my dear Sir, for the excellent work you
have sent me. I read it with the interest which a great social object
must inspire, and with the feelings which must be always excited in
reading what is dictated by the love of mankind. Much is to be
added to these feelings from the friendship you have shown me, the
recollection of which is most valuable to me. Continue, Sir, to write
and to labour in the cause of benevolence and of public utility ; it
is making the best use of a life which, when not devoted to usefiil-
ness, is thrown away.

It is only a few days since I have been set at liberty from a cause
which has engaged the attention of all Europe. You, no doubt,
know that, by the decree of the 31st of May last, the Cardinal of
Rohan has been freed from the accusation against him, and has ob-
tained a complete victory ; the defence which I made for him is in
London ; there is even an English translation of it, which I should
wish to have if possible.

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1786. MIRABEAU, ETC. 253

Je ne recommande point ^ votre zele la cause de Mad.
de Rochard, qui me remercie k chaque occasion du pre-
sent que je lui ai fait en vous indiquant pour d^fenseur.
Je n'ai surement aucuns efforts k faire pour vous engager
i la servir de toute votre justice et de tous vos taJens.

Ne m'oubliez pas, je vous prie, auprds de M. Baynes,
que je remercie de sa lettre, et k qui je demande pardon
de n'avoir pas r^pondu.

J'ai rhonneur d'etre, avec un attachement respectueux
et un d^vouement inviolable.
Monsieur,
Votre tres-humble
Et trds-ob6issant serviteur,

Target.

Letter XLV.

FROM MR. BAYNES.

My dear Friend, T™»- CoU. Camb., Oct. 3, 1786.

I should have been with you by this time, had not
our Master and Seniors, by making the late election of
Fellows exactly in the most improper as well as most un-
popular manner possible, detained me in college a few days
longer, for the purpose of endeavouring to effect some re-
form in the present mode of carrying on that business.
How far we shall succeed, Heaven only knows. The par-
ticulars of what has passed I cannot now communicate,
for many reasons.^

I do not beg you to be zealous in the cause of Mad. de Rochard,
who takes every opportunity of thanking me for the present I made
her in pointing you out for her counsel ; no exertions of mine are
necessary to induce you to assist her with all your justice and all
your talents.

Pray remember me to Mr. Baynes, whom I thank for his letter,
and whose forgiveness I ask for not having answered it.

I have the honour to be, &c. &c.
Target.

^ See the history of Trinity College, which is appended to Bishop
Monk's Life of Bentley^ voL ii. p. 423. 2d edit.

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254 LETTERS FROM Oct. 1786.

My time has been, on the whole, very agreeably spent.
Our juniors form a very pleasant party: Cautley and
Hailstone ^and Popple have been with us pretty con-
stantly ; Mansell, the M omus of our Pantheon, supplies
us liberally with puns, as Harry Gordon, our Ganymede,
with his nectarean port. Alas, poor Gordon! for our
Seniors, the other day, thought proper to displace him,
after Christmas next, for an insult on some of their own
body. We are all imanimous, and facetious, and merry ;
what can I say more ?

Our evenings are filled up by the exertions of two com-
panies of comedians, one from Norwich, the other from I
know not where ; but the latter is under the management
of W. Palmer, of the Theatre Royal Covent Garden.
Palmer and Edwin come down occasionally to W. Palmer's
theatre. I am going thither to-night, with some very
handsome ladies; therefore wonder not at my unususd
brevity if I be obliged to conclude soon, as the hour is not
far distant. Shakspeare and black letter muster strong
at Emanuel. Farmer the master, Stevens, Isaac Reed,
and Master Herbert the editor of Ames, have taken up
their quarters there. I have looked for Douce every day ;
but, alas ! he does not come.

I shall come to law with redoubled fury. I have ran-
sacked all the libraries here for manuscripts, but find
nothing of much consequence except old readings, which
are, mostly, very difficult to read. I have done a chapter
of Coke on Fines, read a book of Cicero de Lcgibus, an
oration in Greek, and newspapers and reviews sans nom-
bre. You seem all very dull in town, and want a certain
person, who shall be nameless, to enliven you. I intend,
therefore (provided I can accomplish my point by that
time), to set off on Saturday next.

J. B.

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Sept. 1787. MIRABEAU, ETC. 255

Lbttkr XLVI.

FROM MR. WILBERFORCE.
Dear Sir, Teignmouth, Aug. 20. 1787.

I loved and valued poor Baynes ^ more, almost, than
I was warranted to do by the length of our acquaintance,
or the time we had spent together ; and excepting one or
two persons only, there is scarce any man living to whose
future public services I looked forward with such good
hope as I did to his. An understanding so solid as his, with
such unaffected simplicity and honesty of heart, are indeed
rarely to be met with in our days ; and are a greater
national loss than can well be estimated. Though a
stranger to his father, it is impossible not to be deeply af-
fected for his situation; I understand he had no other
child. The book and ring I shall be much obliged to you
if you will transmit to me at Exeter, or rather the latter
of them only, and which may be sent in a letter, and will
be forwarded to me wherever I may be rambling ; the
former you will have the goodness to reserve for me until
my return to town.

I cannot lay aside my pen without expressing a wish
that I may be allowed to persuade myself that the con-
nexion which was formed between us through the medium
of our deceased friend will not be broken off ; but that,
though this bond of union exist no longer, we shall con-
tinue mutually to cultivate it, as opportunities may occur,
I am, dear Sir, yours, &c.

W. WiLBERFORCB.

Letter XLVII.
from mr. mason. >

g^ Aston, near Rofherham, Sept. 15, 1787.

I was on a visit in South Wales when the very afflict-
ing news of our excellent friend's death was first commu-

1 Mr. Baynes died in the summer of 1787. See ante, p.69.
» The poet

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256 LETTEBS FROM MIRABEAU, ETC. Sept. 1787.

nicated to me by the papers ; and your letter of the 22nd
of August, directed to me at York, travelled almost half
the kmgdom after me before it found me, only the last
post-day, returned to my parsonage. This, I trust, you
will think a sufficient excuse for so late an answer, and
will account for a silence which would otherwise have
been highly culpable.

I should expatiate much on the character of him who is
now lost to us and our country, did I not firmly believe
that the person whom he selected for one of his executors
must have as true a sense, and even more experience, of
his invaluable qualities than myself ; suffice it for me to
avow, that, as youth is the season of virtue, I never saw
youth more replete with moral excellence than his ex-
hibited. The remembrance he was pleased to honour me
with in his last moments will make his end only with
mine. Let me entreat you. Sir, when you can do it with
propriety, to make my tenderest expressions of condolence
acceptable to his too justly afflicted parent, and I hope
this will find both you and him somewhat recovered from
so severe a stroke.

I am, Sir, with most tnie respect, your much obliged
and obedient servant,

W. Mason.

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CORRESPONDENCE WITH M. DUMONT AND OTHERS.

1788—1189.
Letter XLVIII.

TO MADAME D . i

Gray's Inn, Oct. 14, 1788.

I profit very gladly of the liberty you have al-
lowed me of writing to you, and of writing in that lan-
guage in which I can most forcibly express the sentiments
of affection and gratitude which I entertain for you and
your family. The hours which I spent with them were
by far the happiest that I passed in France ; and though
my frequent visits to Passy must have shown that I
thought them such, and have made this declaration un-
necessary, yet I make it because I find a pleasure in doing
so, and in transporting myself, though but in imagination,
once again amongst you. If anything could be wanting
to make me feel how much I lost in quitting Paris, it was
our unpropitious journey. We* had the misfortune to
be kept six days by adverse winds at Boulogne ; and, not-
withstanding all the philosophy we could summon to our
assistance, and a pretty large number of books with which
we were provided, the contrast between our late residence
at Paris, and our then condition, imprisoned in a miser-'
able inn, and, to add to our mortification, with the coast of
England full in our view, was too striking not to provoke
very frequently our impatience. Our only resource was
to talk of Paris and Passy, and in idea to live over again

^ These letters were written to a lady with whom and with whose
family Mr. Romilly formed, during his stay at Paris, in 1781, a
friendship which continued uninterrupted to the end of his life.

> M. Dumont accompanied Mr. Romilly on this journey.

VOL. I. ^B .

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258 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct 1788.

the time which was passed. A few hours' more delay
would have prevented the possihility of my arriving at
Warwick in time for the sessions, and have totally dis-
appointed the only ohject for which I was in so great a
hurry to get from Paris. However, hy travelling two
nights, and not stopping in Loudon even to unpack my
trunks, I arrived time enough ; and the only misfortune
produced hy this delay (but which, indeed, I feel as no
small one) is, that I have been prevented delivering Miss
D 's letters till my return from Warwick.

With respect to public affairs, I interest myself so much
in them, that I am as impatient to read the foreign ga-
zettes as if the preservation of our liberties depended
upon the recovery of those of France. I have found M .
Seguier's speech (for which I return you many thanks)
much more curious than edifying. What has most
shocked me in it, even more than his legislative volonte
du Boi, is the doctrine which he takes so much trouble
to enforce, that les abw tudssent du sein des innovations;
because it appears to me to be a doctrine which is per-
nicious everywhere, but which in France is destruc.tive
not only of all public good, but even of every hope of
good : for the people to be happy and free would certainly
be, in France, the greatest of all innovations.

Permit me. Madam, to beg that you would present my
most affectionate compliments to all your family, to M.
Guyot and to M. Gautier, to whom I hope .to have the
pleasure of writing by the next post. I have the honour
to be, with the sincerest respect and affection, Madam,
Yours, &c.

Saml. Romilly.

Letter XLIX.

TO THE SAME.
Madam, London. Feb. 27. 1789.

Miss D does me great injustice in supposing

that the late situation of our affairs, or indeed any pos-
sible situation of them, could make me forget your family.

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Feb. 1789. HI* DUMONT, KTC. 259

It has not been forgetfulness, but the fear of tiring you,
which has prevented my writing sooner. Perhaps I may
still have that to fear ; but even at so great a risk, I can-
not any longer delay telling you the pleasure I always
feel in hearing from you.

Our situation in England begins to wear a very happy
appearance. The King, if not quite recovered, is very
nearly so. There will be no regency, and consequently
no change of ministry. The joy which has taken place
throughout the nation is very sincere and very general :
it is not, however, universal. A number of persons '
had made themselves sure of coming into great and lu-
crative offices, and of long enjoying them: these have
now waked from their dream of grandeur, and find
themselves condemned still to toil on in an unsuccessful
opposition.

I quite concur with Miss D in her judgment of the

King of Prussia's letters. It is certain that the King
everywhere gives his philosophical correspondents indi-
rect lessons of toleration and forbearance. The historical
parts of his works, though certainly not written in the
proper style for history, are very instructive. The de-
scription he gives of his own desolated dominions at the
end of that war of seven years in which he reaped so
much glory, seems better calculated to inspire mankind
with a detestation of war than any arguments or any elo-
quence.

Gray's Letters I have never read since they were first
published ; but I remember at that time being very much
delighted with them; and particularly with some frag"
ments of poems which are nearly equal to his finished
performances. I cannot say that I am acquainted with
the Abb6 de Mably's Observations on the History of France,
although I have bought them, for I have not yet had time
to look into them. I entertain much more respect for
the Abb6 de Mably's memory on account of his private
character than his literary talents. I have never much
admired anything I have read of his, not even his famous
Entretiens de Phocion, If this letter were by any acci-
dent to fall into M. Gautier's hands, I fear it would quite

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250 OORRESPONDENCS WITH April.

ruin me in his good opinion. May I beg of you. Madam,
when you see him, to assure him that however erroneous
my judgment may be with respect to others, it is very
just with respect to himself, and that I always entertain
the warmest friendship for him.

But it is time for me to put an end to this letter ; per-
mit me to do it with the most earnest assurances of the
respect and attachment with which I am, &c.

Sahl. Rohillt.

Letter L.
to the same.

Abergavenny, April 18, 1789.

I write to you. Madam, from a place, the name of
which is, I fancy, hardly known to you. It is a little
town on the borders of Wales, which I have hurried to
from the circuit in order to pass a week with my sister.
She has lately come hither for the sake of her children's
breathing the pure air which blows from the Welsh
mountains, and enjoying the pleasures which this beauti-
ful country affords. It is the most beautiful that I have
seen in England, or anywhere else, except in Switzer-
land : indeed, it very much resembles some parts of Switzer-
land, but everything is on a smaller scale ; the mountains
are less high, the rocks less craggy, and the torrents less
rapid. The valleys are perfectly Swiss, and are enchant-
ing: scattered over with villages and farm-houses, and
portioned out into a multitude of small fields, they be-
speak a happy equality of property, and transport one
back in idea to the infancy of society. You will easily
imagine that, at this time of the year, I cannot have
seen this country to its greatest advantage. We have had
a very long winter; it has quitted us little more than a
week ago, and though the summer has burst upon us all
at once, yet the trees are but just beginning to put out
their leaves; and, though the outline of the landscape
may be seen, all its colouring, except the ric^h verdure of
the fields, is wanting. Butthe most beautiful objects in

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this country, and which are in a great degree independent
of the season, are the health, the cheerfulness, and the
contentment which appear on the countenances of the
inhabitants.

The poor people here have a custom which I never
knew observed anywhere else, and which is very poetical,
and very affecting. Once a year (on Palm Sunday) they
get up early in the morning, and gather the violets and
primroses, and the few other flowers which at this season
are to be found in the fields, and with their little harvest
they hasten to the churchyard, and strew the flowers over
the graves of their nearest relations. Some arrange their
humble tribute of affection in different forms with a great
deal of taste. The young girls, who are so fortunate as
never to have lost any near relation or any friend, exert
themselves that the tombs of the strangers who have died
in the village, at a distance from all who knew them, may
not be left unhonoured; and hardly a grave appears
without some of these affectionate ornaments. I came
here soon after this ceremony had been observed, and
was surprised, on walking through a churchyard, to find
in it the appearance of a garden ; and to see the flowers
withering, each in the place in which it had been fixed.
I have been the more delighted with my excursion hither,
from the contrast it forms to the noise, the hurry, the
crowd, and the contentions of the courts I have just
quitted. What would I not have given to have been able
to transport your family hither, to have enjoyed their
company in this charming spot, and to have had the
pleasure of introducing my sister to you ! But all that is
impossible.

I am very much indebted to Miss D for the news

which she sends me respecting French politics, in which
I take the greatest interest.

The question respecting the abolition of the slave trade
is to be discussed, in about ten days' time, in the House of
Commons ; and I am happy to find that those who are
concerned in the trade begin to be very seriously alarmed.
The society, which has so strenuously exerted itself to
procure the abolition of the trade, wrote a letter some

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262 GOBUOBFONDSNCE WITH Hay*

time ago to M. Necker, to entreat that he would endea^-
vour to procure the concurrence of the French govern-
ment with that of England in so laudable an enterprise.
M. Necker's answer was very flattering to them, but
gave them so little reason to hope for the concurrence of
France, that they thought it advisable not to publish it.
The King of Spain is giving additional encouragement
to the trade ; and the argument which is used with most
force here, and indeed the only argument from which any-
thing can be feared, is that by our abolishing the trade we
shall give no relief to the negroes, but only transfer to our
neighbours the advantages which we derived from that
commerce. I believe that argument admits of a very
easy refutation ; but, if it did not, I should have no ob-
jection to making such a transfer* when I must at the
same time transfer all the guilt of so abominable a
traffic.

I hear my friend M. Dumont is gone to Paris, and J
make no doubt he will have the honour of waiting on you.
There is no pleasure I envy him so much as that of see*
ing you and your family. I beg to be remembered very
affectionately to them all, and have the honour to be, &c

Saul. Rouilly.

Letter LI.

TO M. DUMONT. i
Dear Dumont, Cray'i inn. May 16. 1799.

My conscience reproaches me for having sent you
80 shabby a letter as my last, in return for yours, which
was so long and so very entertaining. * I was quite de-
lighted with it. You transported me into the midst of
the assembly of your district, and I was as much amused

^ Mr. Romilly became acquainted with M. Dumont at Geneva,
in 1781 (see ant^, p. 42), and an intimate friendship was maintained
between them up to the close of Mr. Romilly's life.

* In this letter, dated April 28, M. Dumont had given a very
long and detailed account of the proceedings connected with the
election of deputies to the States-General.

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17». M. DUMONT. ETC. 263

as if I had been present. I took the liberty of reading
parts of your letter to Trail and Wilson. We all agreed
in admiring it, and in abusing you, first for not employ-
ing your talents in writing some useful work ; and se-
condly, if you won't do that, for not writing me more
letters.

I was in the House of Commons last Tuesday, when
Wilberforce opened the business of the slave trade. He
did it in an admirable speech, which seemed to make a
great impression on the House. What he proposes is,
that the trade should be totally and immediately abo-
lished. Pitt, Fox, Burke, and Grenville (the Speaker
of the House), all declared that they were for a total abo-
lition, and seemed to vie with one another who should
express in the strongest terms his detestation of the trade.
Fox says that it will certainly before long be abolished,
and the only question is, whether England shall have the
honour of setting so noble an example, or shall wait to
follow it in others: that he made no doubt that the
French would soon abolish the trade: that, though he
had often talked of the rivalship of France, and professed
himself a political enemy to that country, yet God forbid
that he should not do justice to their national character ;
and he did not believe that there was any nation on earth
who would be more quick to catch a spark of such noble
enthusiasm, even from those whom they might consider
as their enemies, or who would be more eager than they
would to imitate our example. Wilberforce, among
other reasons which he gave for believing that the trade
which we abandoned would not be taken up by the French,
relied much on the character of M. Necker, and par-
ticularly on the passage in his book on Finance, where
he says that the only obstacle to the abolition of the
trade is that, if one nation abolished it, another, and
perhaps a rival nation, might take advantage of their
generosity. For, when once England has abolished the
trade, France cannot have to fear anything from her
rivals by abolishing it ; and it is impossible to suppose
that any man, much more M. Necker, would consent to
become so infamous as he must, if, after having published

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264 CORBESPONDENCE WITH Muj,

this work, he should attempt to take advantage of us be-
cause we had abolished the trade. But what gives us
better security than these arguments is, that the trade
cannot be carried on by France, but under much greater
disadvantages even than those under which it is carried on
by us ; for the commodities proper for the African market
are (at least the greater part of them) manufactured
better and cheaper in England than anywhere else. A
part of Wilberforce*s speech which I thought admirable
was, where he showed that the present barbarism of
Africa was to be ascribed principally, if not solely, to this
trade; which, by making it the interest of the native
princes to wage war perpetually with one another, and to
plunder and carry away their own subjects, and by
destroying all mutual confidence among the native sub-
jects, and encouraging men to enslave their neighbours and
parents to sell their children, prevented any improvement
in manners or civilisation. Burke, in speaking of this
trade, described it very truly, very concisely, and with
great energy. He said that it was a trade which began
by violence and war, was continued by the most dreadful
imprisonment, and ended in exile, slavery, and death.
Among the speakers, none did more service to the cause
which we have so much at heart than those who spoke
against it. All they did was to use invectives, to insist
that the statements which had been made were misrepre-
sentations, to call Wilberforce's propositions reveries,
and to rely on objections which had been answered and
on arguments which had been refuted. A few days be-
fore this debate came on, a petition was presented to the
House of Commons by a great many of the manufacturers
of Sheffield, stating that they were greatly interested that
the slave trade should not be abolished, the principal
manufactures employed in that trade being made by
them; but declaring that they were desirous that no
regard might be had to their interests, but that they
might be readily sacrificed and the trade abolished.
There seems the greatest probability that the Bill for the
abolition will pass the Commons ; but it is to be expected
from the enemies to it, that they will throw every obstacle

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1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 265

they can in the way of it ; and that, by bringing a mul-
titude of witnesses to the bar of the House, they will
delay the business till the next session, when all will be
to begin again. What opposition may be made to the
Bill when it gets into the House of Lords cannot be fore-
seen ; however, I think it is certain that in three or four
years to come, at farthest, this trade will no longer dis-
grace England. ^

Mr. Frazer is, or will very soon be, at Paris. He will
call on you. If Rousseau*s Cor^fessiom are published by
that time, pray do not fail to send them to me by him.
I wish much, too, to see Necker's speech to the States.

Have you read Voltaire's posthumous letters? What
do you think of them ? We talk of you very often in
Frith Street, and long to see you. If you don't come
back soon, pray write me another of your long letters.
I am sure you would conquer your idleness, if you knew
how much pleasure they give me. I write to you in a
very great hurry.

Pray give my compliments to M. Clavi^re, and to all
his family, to M. de la Roche, and to M. and Mad**.

Mallet. The family of Mad*. D I fear have quitted

Paris.

Yours most sincerely,

S. R.

Letter LII.

FROM M. DUMONT.

Paris, 22 Mai, 1789.

Je viens de recevoir votre lettre, mon cher Romilly,
et je suis charm6 qu'un scrupule de conscience m'ait valu

Letter LII.

Paris, May 22, 1780.

I have just received your letter, my dear Romilly, and I am
delighted that a scrapie of conscience should have procured me the

^ It continued, however, till 1806, when it was abolished by the
Whig administration.

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266 OORIIESPONDENCE WITH M«y,

rint^ressante relation de ce qui s'est pass^ dans la Cham-
bre des Communes relativement k la traite. J'avoisoubli^
de vous dire que je m'^tois fait agr^ger k la Soci6t6 des Amis
des Noirs a Paris, pour voir par moi-mezne de quel esprit
elle ^toit anim6e, et de quoi Ton pouvoit se flatter. C'est
un foible commencement ; elle a environ cent souscrip-
teurs, et la plupart de ceux qui la composent sont des
grands seigneurs ou des hommes de lettres, qui peut-Stre
ne d6^nt^ressent pas assez leur amour propre, et ne
s'occupent pas assez de la chose elle-mSme. Tout est
formality dans Tassembl^e ; leur mani^re de recueillir les
opinions est si mauvaise que la moindre question tratne
durant des heures, et Tennui m*en a toujours chass6 avant
la fin de la discussion.

Cette 60ci6t6, toute foible qu'elle est, a caus6 de Tom-
brage k des planteurs, qui Tout d^nonc^e au Roi, mais ils
ont 6t^ bien dfisappointfis. ** Tant mieux,'' a-t-il r6pondu ;
•* je suis charm6 qu'il y ait dans mes 6 tats quelquos hon-
nStes gens qui s'occupent du sort de ces pauvres nfegres."
Ce mot a donnfi un peu plus de vigueur k nos philan-
thropes. II faut esp6rer qu'on fera ici par Emulation ce
qu'on aura fait en Angleterre par principe.

interesting account of what took place in the House of Commons
on the subject of the slave trade. I had forgotten to tell you that I
had joined the Society of the Friends of the Negroes at Paris, that
I might myself see the spirit which animated them, and what might
be expected from them. It is a small beginning ; there are about a
hundred members, most of whom are men of rank or men of letters,
who perhaps do not sufficiently set aside their personal vanity, and
io not attend sufficiently to the object itself. All is formality at
heir meetings ; their mode of collecting the opinions of the mem-
)ers is so bad, that the most trivial question drags on for hours
ogether, and I have always been driven away by ennui before the
end of the discussion.

This society, feeble as it is, has given umbrage to some of the
planters, who have complained of it to the King, but they have had
little reason to be pleased with his answer. " So much the better,'*
he replied: "I am delighted to hear that there are some honest
people in my kingdom who interest themselves in the lot of these
poor negroes." This answer has infused a little more vigour into
our philanthropists, and it is to be hoped that emulation will do
here what in England will have been done on principle.

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1799. M. DCMONT, ETC. 267

Les CoT^fessions de Rousseau ne paroissent pas; je
n'en ai plus entendu parler, mais ce que je vous ai mand6
k cet 6gard est certain. J'ai lii quelques unes des lettres
posthumes de Voltaire; elles ne sont pas fort int^ressantes ;
11 faut en acheter une bonne par vingt mauvaises. Le
r^gne de Voltaire est pa8s6, except^ au tli6itre. Rous-
seau s'616ve k mesure que Tautre s'abaisse. La post6rit6
sera bien 6tonn6e qu'on les ait regard^s comme rivaux.

Mes complimens ^ MM. Trail et Wilson ; ils devroient
bien venir passer r6t6 k Paris ; je crois qu ils y passeroient
six semaines d'une mani6re fort agr6able. — Adieu, mon
cher Romilly ; aimez-moi comme je vous aime.

Et. D.

Letter LI 1 1.

TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, London, June 9, 1789.

I return you many tbanks for your long and very
entertaining letter of the 3d of this month. It has given
me as much pleasure as I could possibly have received
from the scenes themselves which it describes, if I had
been present at them. The inconveniences of debating
in so tumultuous a manner are terrible ; they render me
quite impatient that the papers I sent the Count de Sars-
field should be published. * Perhaps they would do no

Rouwean's Omfetiicns are not yet published. I have heard
nothing more said about them ; but what I wrote to you on the
subject is accurate. I have read some of Voltaire's posthumous
letters; they are not very interesting; it is at the expense of twenty
that are bad that one has to get at one that is good. Voltaire's
reign is over, except at the theatre. Rousseau rises in proportion
as the other sinks, and posterity will be much astonished at their
having been considered as rivals.

My compliments to Messrs. Trail and Wilson ; they should come
and pass the summer at Paris ; I think they would spend six weeks
there very agreeably. Farewell, my dear Romilly, &c. &c.

Et. D.

An account of these papers is given at p. 74. They consisted

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268 GORBESPONDENCE WITH June.

good ; but, however, there is at least a chance of their
doing good.

M irabeau is probably so much engaged with the politics
of the day, that you must not speak to him of any other
subject. If you may, I wish you would tell hira, that,
upon my return last autumn from Paris, I told Mr.
Vaughan and Sir Gilbert Elliot that he said he would send
each of them a copy of his Monarchic Prussienne, and
that they have neither of them received one. I wish
Mirabeau may be induced by the noble opportunity which
he now has of making the most distinguished figure,
and rendering a most essential service to mankind, — I
wish he may be induced to avoid provoking so many
enemies as he has hitherto done. He should remember
that he at the same time makes them enemies to his
principles, and consequently to the good of mankind.

I dined a few days ago at Mr. V.'s. Lord W. was there.
The abolition of the slave trade was the subject of con-
versation, as it is indeed of almost all conversations. I
was sorry to find that Lord W. is not a friend to it. I
make no doubt that he looks upon me as a mad enthu-
siast ; and, to speak the truth, I cannot boast of having
shown much coolness in the conversation: but I every
day hear such arguments used ilpon the subject as no
human patience can endure. You have seen the repre-
sentation of a slave-ship. Can you believe it possible,
after having seen that representation, the truth of which
it is easy to ascertain with a pair of compasses, that any
man should be found capable of giving such an accoimt
as I here transcribe of an African voyage? "In the in-
terval between breakfast and dinner, the negroes are
supplied with the means of amusing themselves, after the
manner of their country, with musical instruments ; the
song and dance are encouraged and promoted ; the men
play and sing, whilst the boys dance for their amusement ;
the women and girls divert themselves in the same way,
and amuse themselves with arranging fanciful ornaments

of a statement of the rules and forms of proceeding of the English
House of Commons, and were intended to serve as a model for the
French Assembly, which met at Versailles on the 5th of May.

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1789. M. DUMONT. ETC. 269

for their persons with heads When tired of music

and dancing, they go to games of chance. The women
are supplied with heads, which they make into ornaments,
and the utmost attention is paid to the keeping up their
spirits, and to indulge them in all their little humours."
Such is the evidence which two African captains have
not heen ashamed to give before the Privy Council. Some
other witnesses however are examined ; one, a surgeon,
who speaks of what he himself saw. " It was usual," he
says, *' to mdke the slaves dance, in order that they might
exercise their limbs, and preserve health. This was done
by means of a cat-o'-nine tails, with which they were
driven about among one another, one of their country
drums beating at the same time ; on these occasions they
were compelled to sing, the cat being brandished over them
for that purpose. He sometimes heard the women among
themselves singing, but always at those times in tears.
Their songs contained the history of their lives, and their
separation from their friends and country. These songs
were very disagreeable to the captain ; he has sometimes
logged the women for no other reason than this, in so
terrible a manner, that the witness has been a fortnight
healing the incisions." It appears by the Report of the
Privy Council that the crimes for which men are made
slaves in Africa are frequently those of witchcraft, and
that for witchcraft the punishment involves the whole
family of the person convicted.

Trsdl and Wilson desire their compliments to you ; they
will thank you to inquire which is the best French Jour-
nal that they can take in, in order to have an account of
the proceedings of the States. Is M irabeau's ^ regularly
continued ? The last number you sent me comes no lower
down than the 11th May. It was reported here that even
these letters to his commettans were suppressed.

Your friends in Frith Street, not forgetting your little
niece, desire to be very affectionately remembered to you.

^ Leitres de Mirabeau a sei Commettans, which afterwards at-
tracted great attention under the name of the Courrier de Provence,
See SoMvenira 'sur Mirabeau, by Dumout, chap. vi.

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270 00RRE8PONPSNGE WITH Jvne,

LrrrxR LIV.

FEOM M. DUMONT.

Snitee, prta Paris, SI Jain, 1789.

Je vousenvoye, mon cher Romilly, un exemplaire de
la Trculuciion,^ &c. ; vous en aurez d'autres que je vous
porterai moi-mdme, car je ne resteplus ici que pour voir
deux ou trois stances des trois ordres r^unis, et juger s'ils
s'inspireront mutuellement aseez de respect ou de terreur
pour s'assujettir k ]a discipline, et si, de T^niulatioii entre
ks ordres, r^sultera le bien public. Quant & votre ouvrage,
il sera utile ; les bons esprits le lisent avec attention, mais
son effet sera lent : ils ont tant de vanity nationale, tant
de pretention, qu'ils aimeront mieux toutes les sottises de
leur cboix, que les r6sultats de Texp^rience Britannique.
Le temps seul les 6clairera sur les absurdit6s du r6gle-
ment de police qui est en projet, et ils s'accoutumeront
k rid6e, qui les r6volte, d'emprunter quelque chose de
votre gouvernement, qui est ici respu6 comme un des op-
probres de la raison humaine: quoique Ton convienne

Letteb LIV,

SurSne, near Paris, June 21, 1789.
I send you, my dear Romilly, one copy of the Tronsiationy^
&c. ; I will myself bring you others ; for I shall only remain here
to see one or two meetings after the union of the three orders, and to
determine whether they will inspire each other with sufficient reqiect
or fear to submit to control, and whether, from emulation between
the different orders, public good can arise. As to your work, it will
be useful; the well-disposed read it with attention, but its effect
will be slow. The French have so much national vanity, so much
pretension, that they will prefer all the follies of their own choosing
to the results of English experience. Time alone will enlighten
them on the absurdities of the police regulations which are in con-
templation, and will accustom them to the idea now so revolting to
them, of borrowing any thing from your government, which is here
repudiated as a reproach to human reason. It is, indeed^ admitted

' A translation of the papers mentioned in the preceding letter.

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1789. M. X>UMONT, ETC. 271

que vous avez deux ou trois belles loix ; mais il est insou-
tenable que vous ayez la pr6somption de dire que vous
avez une constitution. Cependant il faut convenir que
la jalousie nationale a 6t6 clairvoyante, et leur a tres-bien
fait d6couvrir qu'il y avoit une grande distance de la th^
one de Montesquieu et de De Lolme k la pratique r6e]le,
k I'etat vrai des choses. J'ai revu la traduction, mais ce
fut un travail fort rapide, une revision avec Thomme dont
vous connoissez la turbulente impatience ; vous ne serez
juge que des fautes qui restent» et non de celles que j'ai
fait disparottre, et cette comparaison seule pourroit me
m^riter un peu d'indulgence.

Mille amiti6s, je vous prie, k nos amis communs* Je
suis fort press6 pour finir.

Aimez-moi comme je vous aime.

> Et. Dumont-

Letter LV.

TO M. DUMONT.

Dear Dumont, July 28, 1789.

I sit down to write a few lines to you as fast as 1 can
before I set out on the circuit, which will be early to-
morrow morning. I shall return in about a fortnight, and
how I shall dispose of myself during the vacation is yet
uncertain. It is true that you have written me some very
long letters, but that was long ago. Since a£fairs have

that you have tw6 or three fine laws; but then you have the un-
warraD table presumption to assert that you have a constitution.
Nevertheless, it must be allowed that the national jealousy has been
clear-sighted, and has very properly made them discover that there
is a wide difference between the theory of Montesquieu and De Lolme
and actual practice — the real state of things. I have gone through
the translation ; but revisinj?, with a man whose boisterous impa-
tience you well know, was hurried work. You can only judge of
the faults which remain, and not of those which I have struck out ;
and yet this comparison alone can entitle me to any indulgence.
Best remembrances to our mutual friends.

Yours, in haste, &c.

Et. Dumont.

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been in such a state in France as must make every man
who has the least humanity impatient for news, you have
not let me hear from you once.

T am sure I need not tell you how much I have rejoiced
at the Revolution which has taken place. I think of no>
thing else, and please myself with endeavouring to guess
at some of the important consequences which must follow
throughout-all Europe. I think myself happy that it has
happened when I am of an age at which I may reasonably
hope to live to see some of those consequences produced.
It will perhaps surprise you, but it is certainly true, that
the Revolution has produced a very sincere and very ge-
neral joy here. It is the subject of all conversations ; and
even all the newspapers, without one exception, though
they are not conducted by the most liberal or most philo-
sophical of men, join in sounding forth the praises of the
Parisians, and in rejoicing at an event so important for
mankind.

Pray congratulate Mirabeau on my behalf; tell him that
I admire and envy him the noble part he is acting. The
force of truth obliges me to say this, though I am really
ofiended with him (and I wish you would tell him so), for
having very wantonly bestowed on me a very undeserved
panegyric* The book in which it is contained is cer-
tainly, upon the whole, well translated ; but there are
some errors in it which I would correct, and send you or
him the corrections, if I thought there were any probabi-
lity of its passing through a second edition.

You have never sent me the third and fourth letter of
Mirabeau to his constituents : I wish you would get them
for me to complete my set. When is M. Claviere's great
work to appear ? I don't know whether I told him not
by any means to use the name of Dr. Price as an autho-

' The following is the passage alluded to : — " Je dois ce travail,
entrepris uniquement pour la France, k un Anglais qui,jeune encore,
a m^rit6 une haute reputation, et que ceux dont il est parti culi-
erement connu regardent comme une des esp^rances de sou pays.
C'est un de ces philosophes respectables, dont le civisme ne se borne
point {I la Grande Bretagne,*' &c. See Dumont's TdcHqtie dei
Asaemb, Ligialat,, vol. i. p. 285, 2nd edit.

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rity for the information he communicated to him through
me. Be so good, therefore, as to tell him that Dr. Price
begs he may not be named.

My brother and sister beg to be very affectionately re-
membered to you. They think we should all be happier,
sitting in their little parlour in Frith Street, than being
spectators of the revolutions in France, and the tragedies
which attend them. We have just heard the news of the
murder of Foulon and his son-in-law, which no doubt
everybody, and chiefly the friends of the people, must
consider as a very unfortunate event Adieu ! Believe
me to be, with unalterable affection,

Yours, &c.,

S. R.

Letter LVI.
from mlle.d —

Paris, 27 Aoflt. 1789.

Si vous avez pu croire que c'^toit par oubli ou par
negligence que nous n'avons pas repondu k vos dernieres
lettres. Monsieur, et que nous avons gard6 un si long
silence, vous nous avez fait une grande injustice. La mul-
titude de scenes, d'id^es, d'evdnemens, par lesquels nous
avons pass^, nous ont caus^ tant d'agitations, que, mSme
en pensant plus que jamais k nos amis, il ^toit impossible
de leur 6crire. Combien de fois, Monsieur, vous avez
ete present k mon esprit, pendant ces troifr mois qui feront
epoque dans ma vie, par tant de raisons! C'est a fH)us,

Letter LVI,

Paris, August 27, 1789.
If you can have believed tbat it has been through forgetfulness
or neglect that we have not answered your last letters, Sir, and that
we have so long been silent, you have done ns great injustice. The
multitude of scenes, of ideas, of events through which we have
passed, have thrown nsinto a state of so much agitation, that, whilst
we have thought more than ever of our friends, we have found it im-
possible to write to them. How often have yon been present to my
mind during the last three months, which, for so many reasons, will
form an epoch in my life ! It is to you, Sir, that I must turn when.
VOL. I. T

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Monsieur, que j'ai besoin de parier de la Suisse ; persoxine
icine m'entend, etjesaisbien qoe v<ms m'entendrez, me
comprendrez, car vous connoissez ce pays favoris^ duCiel,
et vous 6tiez digne de le parcourir. Je B*ai 6t6 que dans
une bien petite partie de la Suisse, mais j'en ai vd assez
pour juger de tout ce que la Nature y a accumul6 de grand,
de beau, de sublime, pour Padmiration des fimes sensibles.
Tai ^pronv^ 1^ des sensations qui m'etoient inconnues, et
en v^rit^ trap dSlicieuses ; car elles m'ont laiss6 beaucoup
trop de regrets d'etre destin^e a vivre si loin des objets
ravissans qui les causoient. 3*bx visits cette lie * od Rous-
seau a joui de quelques mois de bonheur, du seul qui 6toit
fait pour lui, auquel il 6toit accessible, celui qu'D trouvoit
dans la contemplation de la nature et de lui-mSme. Nous
y avons retrouv6 encore ce mtoe calme dont il a sii si
bien jouir, qu'il a sii si bien peindre, et qu*il a si vainement
recherch6 depuis. J'ai vii Geneve, encore dans une ivresse,
ou, si vous voulez, une illusion de bonheur, qu'il seroit cruel
et barbare de d6truire et de troubler. J'ai vft dans le canton
de Berne, sous un gouvernement haissable par ses formes,
mais doux dans ses effets, un peuple tranquille et heureux,

I would talk about Switzerland ; no one here understands me ; and
I am well aware that you will, and will feel with me on this sub-
ject ; for you know that country, so favoured by Heaven, and you
were worthy to know it. I have only been in a very small part of
Switzerland; but I have seen enough io form an idea of all the
grandeur, the beauty, the sublimity which Nature has there thrown
together for the admiration of men of feeling. I there felt emotions
to which I was before a stranger, and which, indeed, were too de-
lightful ; for they have left behind them too much regret that I should
be destined to live so far firom the enchanting scenes which called
them forth. I visited that island ^ where Rousseau enjoyed a few
months of happiness, the only happiness which was made for him, and
to which he was accessible, that which he found in the contemplation
of nature and of himself. We found there the same tranquillity
which he knew so well how to enjoy and to describe, and which be
has so vainly sought for since. I saw Geneva, which was still in an
intoxication, or, if you will, a dream of happiness, which it would
be cruel and bubarous to destroy or disturb. I saw in the canton
of Berne, under a government hateful in its forms, but gentle in its
effects, a happy and contented people, sheltered by the comfort and

^ Llle de Saint Pierre, in the middle of the Lake of Bienne.

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garanti par son aisance et sa prosp^rit^, encore mieux que
par ses montagnes, des orages et des r6volution8 qui d6-
Solent d*autre6 contr6es. C'est au milieu de ces valines for-
tun^es. oii le bonheur doit 6tre bien plus facUe, puisqu'il
y est d6pouill6 de tant de biens factices, c'est \i oii il se-
roitsi douxde vivre et d'oublier le reste du monde, que la
nouvelle des d^sastres de la France est venue m'atteindre.
Quoique la succession la plus inconcevable d'^venemens
inesp^r^s ait ensuite un peu calm6 nos alarmes, nous avions
un trop grand besoin de venir rejoindre tout ce qui nous
6toit cher, pour continuer paisiblement notre voyage.
Nous I'avons done pr^cipit^, et nous sommes depuis peu
de jours de retour au sein de notre famille, encore ^mues
du bonheur d' avoir re trouv6 tant d'objets ch^ris, pr63erv6s
de tons maux, au milieu de tant de dangers.

Je ne vous dirai aucune nouvelle. Monsieur ; vous Stes
mieux inform^ sdrement que peut-ltre je ne le suis moi-
m6me. L'inqui6tude est encore le sentiment dominant,
et surtout sur Tobjet des finances. Mais les biens dont
nous allons jouir ne sauroient lire trop achet6s ; on se
fera gloire m6me des soucis et des peines dont on les
payera. £t vous, Monsieur, qui seriez si digne de voir

prosperity of their condition, «till jnore than by their mountains,
from the storms and revolutions by which other countries are laid
waste. It was in the midst of those favoured valleys, where happi-
ness is the more accessible that it is there stripped of so many factitious
pleasures,*-it was there, where it would be so delightful to live and
to forget the rest of the world, that the news of the disasters of France
reached me. Although the most inconceivable succession of un-
hoped-for events has since, in some degree, allayed our fears, we
felt too strongly the want of being reunited to all that was dear to us
to continue our journey in peace. We accordingly hastened our re-
turn, and have now been some days at home in the bosom of our
family, and are still under the joyful emotion of having found so
many objects of our love, preserved from all harm in the midst of so
many dangers.

I shall send you no news. Sir, for you are, no doubt, as well in-
formed, perhaps better than I am myself. Anxiety is still the prevail-
ing feeling, especially on the subject of finance. But the blessings which
we are going to enjoy can scarcely be too dearly purchased ; we shall
even glory in the cares and privations by which we shall have paid
for them. And you, Sir, who are so worthy to be a near spectator

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de pres le spectacle int^ressant qu'offre la France dans ce
moment, celui d'un grand peuple qui veut rentrer dans
ses droits naturels que les institutions sociales avoient
effacees depuis si longtems, ne viendrez-vous point?
Jamais de plus grands motifs n*attirerentsurle Continent,
et, en v6rit6, si vous y r^sistez, je ne sais k quelle hauteur
je placerai ce degr^ de vertu. J'attends au moins, Mon-
sieur, de votre amiti6, une lettre de vous. Je n'en ai
jamais si vivement souhait^, pour savoir votre opinion de
ce qui se passe ici. Veuillez nous faire part de quelques
unes de vos reflexions ; j*ai encore bien plus d'envie de
vous entendre sur la France, que je n'avois de besoin de
vous parler de la Suisse.
Recevez, Monsieur, &c.

Letter LVII.

FROM MR. TRAIL.!

Dear Romilly, **"*•» Oct. 18, 1789.

You will see that Mirabeau has proposed a law fo
the suppression of riots, similar in many respects to our
Riot Act. It is intended by him to be much milder ; and
Dumont wishes extremely to have an accurate statemen
of the English law on that subject. I believe he has the
Riot Act ; but I think there are many cases in which the

of the interesting spectacle which France exhibits at this moment,
that of a gieat people re-assuming their natural rights, which social
institutions had so long obliterated, will not you come ? Never was
there a stronger motive to draw men to the Continent ; and, in truth,
if you resist the temptation, I know not at what height I shall place
this degree of virtue. At least, Sir, I trust to your friendship for a
letter ; I never before so strongly wished for one, that 1 may bear
your opinion on what is passing here. Pray impart to us some of
your reflections ; I have a still gi eater desire to hear from you about
France, than I had to write to you about Switzerland.

I am, &c.

^ For an account of Mr. Trail, and the origin of Mr. Romilly'i
intimacy with him, see tw/rd, note to letter of Sept. 21, 1791.

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civil magistrate employs force, and military force where
he has it, without going through the forms prescribed by
that statute. If the mob are actually committing a felony,
may not the magistrate, or even any person whatever, dis-
perse them by force? In 1780, immediately after the
riots. Lord Mansfield stated the law in the House of
Lords, which appeared to many to give more power to
the magistrates than it was supposed did legally belong
to them ; but the Chancellor approved of every thing he
said : and if you could transmit to Dumont a copy of that
speech, which you will find in the Parliamentary Register^
he will be greatly obliged to you. The sooner you do it
the better.

I have seen but little of the National Assembly, and I
am afraid that I shall see little more. It is supposed the
members will not venture to regulate the admission of
strangers by tickets, or in any other way, but will permit
the vacant space to be filled by such as come first. I was
in the Assembly on Tuesday evening, all Wednesday, and
on Thursday forenoon, when they adjourned till Monday
at Paris. Mirabeau spoke a few sentences with great pre-
cision, and like a man of business : he has an imposing and
dictatorial manner, with an air of superiority and seJf
sufficiency. I heard a short speech from Volney, which
I liked on account of the temper and delicacy with which
he reproached the Assembly for changing, inconsiderately,
the order of the day. The sudden departure of the Duke
of Orleans is the only topic of conversation among all
ranks, ages, and sexes, so far as I know. The most pre-
vailing report is, that the Ministry got evidence of his
being engaged in some conspiracy, and offered him the
alternative of a trial, or a pretext for withdrawing out of
the kingdom. The object of his plot, according to some,
was to put himself upon the throne by the most violent
and sanguinary means ; according to others, to get himself
declared Regent, in case the King should withdraw, or
should, by any other means, be removed from the govern-
ment. It is confidently asserted that they can prove his
having distributed large sums of money among the people :
perhaps from this single fact the other reports have
arisen. For my own part, having no authority for any of

278 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Get.

the stories, I believe none. I am the more inclined to
scepticism, that I perceive every body suspectins: a plot
in every accidental circumstance that occurs. It is diffi-
cult to decide which of the parties are most credulous and
suspicious. I have read almost all the printed accounts
of the late excursion * to Versailles, and have conversed
with several persons who were about the palace at the
' arrival of the Parisians, and after all I cannot make out a
consistent story. It is certain the Paris militia, preceded
by several hundred women, went to Verswlles ; that a few
of the Gardes du Corps were killed, and one or two
women ; and that they prevailed on the King to com«
with his family to reside in the capital. It is equally cer-
tain that the officers of the Gardes du Corps gave, some
days before, a great entertainment to a great niftmber of
military people at Versailles ; that the King permiited
them to use the Opera House, and he and the Queen and
Dauphin visited them after dinner, and conversed &-
miliarly with them ; and that, during this entertainment,
some rash and violent expressions were used, the national
cockade laid aside, and the black one resumed. Thk ex-
ample was beginning to be followed by some military
men at Paris; and, added to this, bread became unac-
countably scarce, and for a day or two was hardiy to be
got at all. The removal of the National Assembly will
bring things, I should imagine, to a crisis. If the people
do not disturb their deliberations, all will go well ; if they
do, the King and they must, with the support of the mu-
nicipality, endeavour, once for all, to restore energy to the
laws ; and if they fail, it is in vain to conjecture the coa-
quences. This morning I saw his Majesty walking in the
Champs Elys^es, without guards. He seemed easy and
cheerful. He passed along the line of 5000 or 6000of the
Paris militia, who are reviewed there every Sunday.
Dumont is at the Hotel Royal> Rue Neuve St. Mare. I
have not seen him since he came from VersaiUea^ although
we have been in search of each other.

Yours»

J. T.

1 Oa the 5th and Stb of October.

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Lbitbb LVHL

FROM tf. DUMONT.

PtiTto. 190ctolxre,l7B9.

Eh bien, mon cher Romilly, vous Tavie* pr6vu ; noua
le disions ensemble; rien n'6toit fini; rhwizon 6toil
trouble, Vous avez vu un insipide entr'iicte, et k peine
^tiez vous parti ^ que la scdne est devenue trds-intdres-
sante et tr^s-anim^e. Yous ne me demandez pas des
details: ceux qui peuvent Stres publics sont partout;
ceux qu'il faut dire en confidence, il ne feut paa les en-
Toyer par la poste.

Vous me demandez mon opinion sup la revolution.
H^las ! mon ami, que puis-je vous dire ? Cette terre-ci
est tenement volcanique, les mouvemens sont si soudains,
Pautorit6 si foible, qu^on a lieu de redouter ce s^our*
pour rABsembl6e Nationale. Plusieurs provinces sont
bless^es de la conduite de Paris, et regardent les quinze

Letter LVIII.

Paris, October 19, 1789.
Well, mj dear Romilly, you foiesaw it. We both said so ;
nothing was concluded ; the borizoa was overcast. You saw ao i».
sipid iuterlude, and you were hardly gone ^ when the scene became
very interesting and very animated. You do not ask me for details :
indeed, those which can be published ara to be had everywhere ;
those which must be told in confidence must not be sent by the
pott.

You ask me my opinion of the revolutiou, Alas! my friend,
what can I say ? The ground on which we stand is so volcanic, all
our movements are so sudden, all constituted authority so weak,
that one cannot but dread the present abode* for the National Assem-
bly. Several of the provinces are offended at the conduct of Parii,

* Mr. Romilly had spent the greater part of the months of August
and September of this year at Paris. See anfe, p. 76—83.

« The National Assembly had removed from Venuulles to Paris
after the 5th and 6th of October.

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mille ambassadeurs arm6d, envoy6s k Versailles, comme
un attentat qui int^resse tout le royaume. Les autres
croyent que la capitale est TonV de la Erance, comme le
dit M. de Warville, et que sa vigilance a sauve la liberty
d*une conspiration plus hardie que la premiere. L'une
de ces conspirations est aussi bien prouv^e que I'autre ;
et vous savez mon avis sur la pr6c6dente. Des m^contens,
des impi-udens, des malveillans, des ennemis de la liberty,
des courtisans corrompus, des gens qui voudroient bien
avoir assez de moyens pour mal faire — ^assez de caract^re
pour §tre dangereux — ^il y a de tout cela ; mais des con-
spirateurs, des chefs, des projets suivis, une marche sou-
terraine, une reunion d'efForts, de vues, de personnes,
voila ce qui n'existe pas, ou du moins ce qui n'est pas
prouv6. Laconduite future de Paris, le sentiment des
provinces, voili deux donn^es qui me manquent pour as-
seoir mon jugement Si les deputes sont insult6s, s'Ds
ne sont pas libres, vous pr6voyez bien qu'ils fuiront les
uns aprds les autres. La desertion est d£j^ trSs conside-
rable, e tils n'ont vu qu'avec la plus vive douleur leur
translation k Paris. Les plus z616s r6publicains en ont
pens6 k cet %ard 3L-peu-pr6s comme les autres.

and look upon the march of the 15,000 armed ambassadors to Ver-
sailles as an ouirage which concenis the whole kingdom. The other
provinces look upon the capital as " the eye of France,*' to use M.
de Warville 8 expression, and believe that its vigilance has preserved
our liberty from a much bolder conspiracy than the ^rst. The evi-
dence upon which both conspiracies rest is of the same value, and
you know my opinion of the first. Discontented men, imprudent
ones, ill-disposed people, enemies of liberty, corrupt courtiers,
creatures who long for ability enough to do mischief — determina-
tion enough to be dangerous, — all this we have ; but as for con^i-
rators, leaders, settled designs, deep-laid plots, a concert of efforts,
views, or persons, nothing of this exists, or, at least, nothing is less
established by evidence. The future conduct of Paris, and the feel-
ing of the provinces, are data without a knowledge of which it is
difficult to form a judgment. If the deputies should be insulted, if
they should not be free, it is clear that they will desert their post one
after the other. This desertion is already very considerable, and it
was with the deepest sorrow that they beheld their removal to Paris.
On this subject the most zealous republicans have thought much
like the others.

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D^s que je verrai M. de Mirabeau, je lui rendrai fidele-
ment votre commission. Vous pouvez compter que Trail
vous portera ce que vous demandez, except6 les deux
cahiers arri6res du Courrier de Provence j parceque ma
maudite m6moire a laiss^ 6chapper les Nos. ; mais cette
omission sera bienl6t r6par6e.

L'afFaire des nSgres n'est pas mdre, mais je vous assure
qu'elle n'est point n6glig6e ; et il me parott encore pro-
bable qu'elle sera trait6e mSme dans cette session. Le
Due de la Rochefoucauld est trSs-instant li-dessus. Nous
avons les papiers dont vous parlez entre les mains, et ils
iront 4 leur destination premiere, ou retourneront dans
les v6tre8.

L'EvSque de Chartres et TAbb^ Sieyes m'ont pri6 de
vous faire leurs amiti6s.

Et. D.

Letter LIX.

TO MADAME D

London, Oct. 20, 1789.

It was with great concern and anxiety, Madam, that
I learned the events which passed at Paris and Versailles
soon after I left them. Those events were related here
with circumstances so alarming, that it was impossible

As soon as I see M. de Mirabeau, I will faiUifully deliver to him
your commission. You may rely upon Trail's bringing you what
you ask for, excepting the two numbers of the Courrier de Provence
in arrear, because my confounded memory has allowed the numbers
to escape me ; but the omission shall be soon repaired.

The question of the negroes is not yet ripe, but I assure you that
it is kept alive ; and I still think it likely that it will be discussed
even this session. The Duke de la Rochefoucauld is very earnest
about it. The papers of which you speak are with us, and they
shall either go to their original destination or be returned into your
bands.

The Bishop of Chartres and the Abb6 Sieyes have begged that I
would remember them to you.

Et. D.

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not to feel great uneasiaeas for those dear friends whom
I had left at Paris, and of whom none are so near to my
heart as your family. It is astonishing how formidable
dangers appear at the distance of above two hundred
miles, and when one sees them thrcmgh that cloud of un-
certainty which attends all the early accounts we have
from Paris. I endeavoured to comfort myself with sup-
posing that those accounts must be greatly exa^erated ;
and so they have proved to be. Still, however, I own
that I am much concerned at what has passed. I cannot
but think that the removal of ^tbe National Assembly to
Paris may be a source of great mischief; and I fear for
the freedom of debate in the midst of a people so turbu-
lent, so quick to take alarm, and so much disposed to con-
sider the most trifling circumstances, as proofs of a con-
spiracy formed against them, as the Parisians seem to be,
and, indeed, as it is natural to suppose a people so new to
liberty would be. At any rate, I am vexed at seeing even
the possibility of new obstaclea arising to the establish-
ment of a free constitution in France ; not that I suppose
it possible that any obstacles can prevent such a constitu-
tion being established, but they may delay it ; and that
alone, under the present circumstances of France, would
be a dreadful evil.

I find the &vour with which the popular cause in
France is considered here, much less than it was when I
quitted England. We begin to judge you with too much
severity ; but the truth is, that you taught ua to expect
too much, and that we are disappointed and chagrined at
not seeing those expectations fulfilled.

Our ministers have lately held a council on the affairs
of France, the result of which was. that England should
in no way interfere in them.

S. BQMai.Y.

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Letter LX.

TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, Gray's inn, Oct 23, 1789.

I this morning received Trail*s letter, in which he
says that you desire to be informed of our law respect-
ing the suppression of riots ; and I sit down immediately
to comply with your request, though I believe Trail could
have given you a better account of it from his memory
than I can from books. The Riot Act, he says he believes
you have, and that Mirabeau has in some degree taken
it for his guide. I am much surprised that he has, for
that act has always appeared to me to be a very useless
law. It makes the offence of persona being riotously
assembled together for the space of an hour after pro-
clamation has been made for them to depart punishable
with death. This severity was certainly never meant to
be executed against all who should expose themselves tc
it : the only object was to hold out a terror ; although it
ought to have been foreseen that the cireumstance of the
law not being executed would prevent its inspiring terror.
The effect of the law, certainly, has not been to prevent
riots, which have been at least as frequent and as mis-
chievous since as before the passing of it. One great
absurdity in the act is, that it is not calculated to disperse
a mob immediately, and that nothing can be done under
it for an hour, although in that space of time the mischief
may have increased a hundred times. It is true that the
magistrates in England do not wait patiently for an houi
before tbey take any steps to suppress a riot ; but every
thing which they do before that time, they do by virtue
of the powers which they derive from older statutes, or
from the common law, and not from the Riot Act.

The powers which the justices have, independent of
the Riot Act, are these. Two justices of the peace and
the sheriff may, in order to suppress riots which happen
in their own county, either within their own view, or of
which they have credible information, raise the pow».

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of the county ; that is, they may command all persons
whatever within the county, except women, clergymen,
and children under fifteen, to attend them, and assist in
dispersing the rioters, arresting them, and conducting
them to prison : and all persons who refuse or neglect to
give such assistance are punishable by fine and imprison-
ment. And if the justices or the sheriff neglect to call
for such assistance when it is necessary, they too are
punishable in the same manner. The persons so called
on to assist are to arm themselves ; and if they kill any of
the rioters who make resistance, they are justifiable.
Besides this, all persons whatever may act of their own
accord, and without the authority of any magistrate, to
suppress riots which they are themselves witnesses of.
Neither the Riot Act nor any other statute declares on
what occasion the magistrates may call military force to
their assistance ; nor, indeed, is it any where said that the
magistrates may upon any occasion call in military force ;
which I mention, because it is generally supposed that
the justices have a right to call in the soldiers after they
have made proclamation for people to depart. The fact
is. that the justices have power to command the assistance
of all the king's subjects, and consequently they may com-
mand the assistance of soldiers, who are subjects like the
rest ; and this they may do after proclamation by the Riot
Act, and before it by the older statutes.

This doctrine of soldiers being to be considered as other
subjects was heard by many persons with great dissatisfac-
tion when it was advanced by Lord Mansfield and the
Chancellor in 1780. During the riots of that time no
proceedings whatever were had under the Riot Act ; pro-
clamation was not anywhere made for the people to dis-
perse, and the soldiers acted without the direction of any
magistrate. Lord Mansfield and the Chancellor asserted
(and there can be no doubt that the law is) that all per-
sons might act to suppress riots, and that, where felonies
were being committed, such as the burning of houses,
&c., it was the duty of all persons to do everything in
their power to prevent those felonies, and to resist the
persons committing them, and that soldiers had this power

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and were bound by this duty as well as other men. I do
not send you a copy of their speeches, because they are
long, but they amount to no more than what I have told
you.

There is one part of the Riot Act which seems very
wise ; it is that which makes the district in which the
riots have been committed liable to be sued, by the per-
sons whose houses or property have been destroyed, for
the amount of the loss; and which directs how, when that
loss has been so recovered, it shall be raised by a tax on
the district. The effect of this is to make it the interest
of the inhabitants of every district that the peace shall
be preserved, and to render them more active than they
would otherwise be in suppressing riots.

It is possible I may be mistaken on some of the informa-
tion I send you, for I write in great haste ; if, therefore,
you mean to make any use of it, show my letter first to
Trail, and he will probably be able to correct my errors.

Pray, if you ever see the Bishop of Chartres and the
Abbe Sieyes, say a great many civil things to them from
me. I leave full scope to your genius.

I am quite impatient for the numbers of the Courrier
de Provence subsequent to 44.

Mirabeau promised me Helvetius's Letter on Mon-
tesquieu; pray torment him for it, and send it me if you
can. I think the Address to the Constituents on the
Tax of the Fourth Part of the Income admirable. If Trail
be still at Paris, tell him that I am much obliged to him
for giving me some account of French politics ; and that
I don't write to him because no news can be worth re-
ceiving from so dull a place as London, where the Duke
of Orleans is feasting with the Prince of Wales in igno-
minious safety.

Yours sincerely,

S. R.

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LSTTKK LXI.
TO M. DUMONT.

Dear Dumont, Not. n. 1789.

As we cannot yet see you, I wish you to make your
stay at Paris as profitable as possible. If it is not very
profitable, I think your bookseller must certainly cheat
you. The Courrier de Provence is become very fashion-
able in London ; and though the booksellers here make
a profit of cent, per cent, (for they charge half a g:uinea
for a month's subscription), yet I saw the other day, in
De BoflFe's shop, a list of forty-five subscribers to it.
Among them were some persons of the first rank : the
Duke of Portland, Lord Loughborough, Mr. Grenville the
Secretary of State, Lord Mountstuart, and many others
whose names I don't recollect. Elmsly has it too, and is
a more fashionable bookseller than De Boffe. From all
this I conclude that there will very soon be a long list of
subscribers in London alone.

You know my opinion about the Ministers being in the
National Assembly ; I need not tell you, therefore, what
I think of the question ^ which has been lately carried on
that subject. They seem to suppose the eloquence of a
minister to be more dangerous than that of any other
man ; but the fact is that it is much less dangerous,
because he always speaks under the disadvantage of being
supposed to be interested in every question, and all bis
words are weighed with peculiar distrust. Upon the sup-
position that seems prevalent in France, that a minister
is, by virtue of his office, an enemy to the public good,
they ought to rejoice at having him in the Assembly, and
that he may fight against them in the face of day.

I was very sorry to see that large rewards had been

^ The decree passed by the National Assembly on the 7th of
November, 1789, to the effect that no member of the representatiye
body should be capable of holdint^ the situation of a Minister as
long as the Assembly to which he belonged should be in existence.
See Choix de Bapporis, Sfc, vol. V. p. 177.

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offered at Paris to persons who would make discoveries
of the conspirators in the plot supposed to have heen
formed against the nation. If France contains in it any
such men as Bedloe and Titus Gates, I fear that it is likely
to be disgraced with such scenes as were acted in England
in the reign of Charles II., when a Popish plot was sup-
posed to have existed, when discoveries of pretended
conspiracies were every day made, and the most infamous
false accusers grew rich upon the public terror and cre-
dulity, and the worst men in the nation made some of the
best instruments in the foulest judicial murders.

I very much fear that the nation will follow the example
we have set them as to the support of the poor ; and hav-
ing taken the possessions of the clergy into their hands,
and by that means deprived the poor of that resource,
will establish in the place of it a certain provision. If
that provision is to be distributed according to the discre-
tion of persons in whom that trust may be reposed, it is
very well ; but if, as with us, any poor person shall be
enabled to demand support as a matter of right, and not
be made dependent for it on the judgment of other men,
I am well satisfied that it will be there, as it has been
with us, a source of much greater mischiefs than any it is
intended to prevent ; that it will prove a great check to
industry ; and will, in the end, produce greater misery
than would arise from the poor being left to depend en-
tirely on the casual bounty of the charitable.

Don't you think the invention of having neppUants a
very injudicious one? The people should form their
judgment of a man at the moment he is about to discharge
a public duty, and not a long time before. A man may
enjoy the public confidence when he is named a suppliant,
and may have lost it totally long before he takes his seat
in the Assembly. Surely there is great inconvenience in
such a man sitting as a new representative of the people.
With us, whenever the King appoints a man to any
office, his seat in Parliament is vacated, and an appeal is
in some sort made to the people, whether the honour or
the trust has been properly bestowed ; and the people are
called upon to say whether, notwithstanding their repre-

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288 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Dm.

eentative is under personal obligations to the King, they
have confidence enough in him to continue him their
minister. So appeals are sometimes made from the
House of Commons to the people ; as, where the House
expels a member, the people, if they please, may re-elect
him, and the House must then receive him. This has
been decided in the case of Wilkes : but nothing of this
kind can ever happen in France ; for the moment a seat
in the National Assembly has by any means become
vacant, the suppliant succeeds to it.

I have not time to make this letter as long as I in-
tended, but I send it you ; for I don't know when I shall
have time to write again.

Yours affectionately,

Saml. Romilly.

Lkttsr LXII.

TO M. DDMONT.

Dear Dumont, i>«c- 1«». iw.

After receiving so many letters from me, you will no
longer, I hope, pretend that I have not as good a right as
everybody else to reproach you with your idleness.

Trail, who subscribes to the Courtier de Provence,
lends me the numbers of it as he gets them. I am very
much rejoiced that the law excluding the children of
bankrupts from voting for representatives in the National
Assembly was not carried in the manner it was proposed \
notwithstanding that you and Duroveray seem so warmly
to have espoused it. Surely it is gross injustice to punish
a man for not paying a debt which be has not the means
of paying, and which he never contracted. That that

' The proposition was that the children of bankrupts, who should
not, in the course of three years, have discharged that portion of
their father's debts with which they would have been chargeable
in case they had inherited property from him, should not be eligible
to any council or assembly, miuiicipal, provincial, or national, or
capable of exercising any judicial or municipal office. (See
Afoniteur, 1789, No. 78.)

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law has produced all the happy effects which were seen at
Geneva, requires, I think, to be proved. It might be
very true that that law existed, and that the people of
Geneva were happy and virtuous, without one being the
cause of the other ; and one might just as fairly conclude,
because in England we have a very unequal representation
of the people in Parliament, and yet the perfect enjoy-
ment of civil liberty, that these are to each other cause
and effect. I think you talk a great deal too much of
Geneva, and that you are likely to prevent, rather than to
promote, the freedom of the Republic, by so often dinning
it in the ears of the French. They will soon be as tired
of hearing you talk of your Geneva as they are of hearing
M. Necker talk of his integrity.

We have lately had an account of a most terrible insur-
rection at Paris. The martial law was held, we were told,
in the utmost contempt ; everybody was under arms, and
many lives had been lost. The newspaper called the
World went so far as to say that the streets of Paris
were streaming with blood, and it concluded the account
with saying that the King and Queen were yet alive. It
appears now that there is not a word of truth in all this,
except the conclusion. It is supposed to have originated
with the aristocratical refugees here, who have great in-
fluence over our newspapers. Calonne has the Times
entirely to himself. It was in allusion to that circumstance
that one of the Miss Norths the other day said of the
report of the insurrection, that it was une Calomnie; a
saying which you have too pure a taste for puns not to
admire.

I hope you are seriously thinking of writing the History
of the Revolution, and preparing materials for it. You
will be unpardonable if you do not. I assure you with
the utmost sincerity that I don't believe there is any
man living capable of doing it so well as yourself; and it
certainly must be the fault of the historian if it is not one
of the most interesting works that ever was composed.
Pray undertake it, and collect all the materials for it that
you can.

There seems to be an end of Joseph II. in the Low

VOL. I. u

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Countries, to my inexpressible joy.* It has been said

in our newspapers that L discovered the Brussels

plot to the Government, and was seized to conceal his
treachery. To judge by the character of the man only,
one would think this probable. I have just received,
from Lord Lansdowne, the Courtier de ProvencSy from
No. 56 to 68 inclusive, for which I return you many
thanks. I have just received, too, the sequel ■ of Rous-
seau's Con/essionSt and am so impatient to read them that
I must conclude thus abruptly.

Yours very affectionately,

S. ROMILLY.

LETTER LXin.

FROM M. DUMONT.

[Paris,] Dec. 1789.

J'attendois une occasion pour vous 6crire, mon cher
Romilly ; car, sans avoir des secrets k vous communiquer,
rid6e de ces trahisons des postes gSte le plaisir de la
causerie, et retient toujours au fond du coeur quelque
chose qui voudroit en sortir.

Mirabeau est tomb6 dans TAssembl^e, soit par un effet
des manoeuvres de ses ennemis, soit par le d61uge des

Letter LXIII.

Paris, December, 1789.
I have been waiting for a private opportunity to write to you,
my dear Romilly; for, without having secrets to impart, the notion
of post-office treachery spoils the pleasure of conversation, and keeps
buried in the heart one thought or other which is longing to escape.
Mirabeau has lost ground in the Assembly, whether from the in-
trigues of his enemies, or from the torrent of libels poured forth

^ In the January following the Emperor lost all remains of au-
thority in the Low Countries, and an independent confederacy was
formed under the title of the United Belgic States.

' The second part of the Confeations of Rouaaeau, containing the
account of his life subsequent to the year 1741. The first part,
which embraced only the twenty-nine first years of his life (from
1712 to 1741), was published (with the omission of the more objec-
tionable passages) in 1781, three years after Rousseau's death.

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libelles, soit enfin par les fautes perpetuelles oii Tentraine
ce caract^re violent, cette fureur de domination, et cette
ambition impatiente qui s'est trahie elle-mSme. On n*a
pu souffrir l'id6e de le voir ministre. Au lieu de donner
aux inimiti6s le temps de se calmer, de se refaire une
reputation k neuf, de prendre une marche lente et me-
8ur6e, dont Teifet eiit 6t6 infaillible, il a tout brusqu6 et
tout d^truit. Pendant plus d'un mois satSte 6toit comme
alt^r^e par les convulsions de ses passions. Sa motion
pour le r^tablissement des exiles Corses * a eu beaucoup
de succes, mais tel est I'effet du d^cri personnel, ce qui
feroit beaucoup d*bonneur k d'autres ne lui en fait point.
Je ne sais s'il pourra reprendre de Tascendant, mais je
suis bien sur qu'^ moins d'une refonte totale, il n'aura
jamais que des Eclairs de succes dont la lueur ne tarde
pas k Tegarer, et ranime les efforts de ses ennemis. Quelle
carri^re il aura manqu6 1 . . .

La motion de Duroveray sur les faillis fut tr^s-applaudie.
Je ne veux pas entrer en pol^mique avec vous sur Texten-

against him, or from the continual faults into which he is drawn by
his impetuous disposition, his rage for domination, and that im-
patient ambition which has been its own betrayer. The idea of
seeing him minister could not be endured. Instead of allowing
time for enmities to subside, for his own reputation to be formed
anew ; instead of pursuing a slow and measured course, the effect
of which would have been infallible, he has risked and ruined every-
thing. For more than a month his head was, as it were, disordered
by the convulsions of his passions. His motion for the restoration
of the Corsican exiles^ has had great success; but such is the
effect of his loss of character, that he gains no credit by what would
have conferred much on any other man. I do not know whether
he will be able to recover his ascendency ; but I am sure thal^
unless his whole conduct be remodelled, he will never have more
than flashes of success, the glare of which is siure to lead him
astray, and revive the efforts of his enemies. What a career he will
have missed!

Duroveray's motion with respect to bankrupts was received with
great applause. I will not enter into a controversy with you as to

^ The decrees of the Assembly, constituting Corsica a part of the
French empire, and permitting exiled Corsicans to return to France
as French citizens^ were passed on the 30th of November, 1789.

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292 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Dec.

sion de Texclusion jusqu'aux enfans ; si je me trompe a
cet egard, c'est de bonne foi, mais je ne crois pas Stre
dans rerreur : les faits sur cette matidre valent mieux que
les abstractions. J'en ai mille k vous citer oCi Texclusion
prononc^e a fait r6parer des torts, des malheurs, ou des
crimes ; je n'en connois pas un seul oil elle ait entrain^
une injustice. La loi n'est pas encore absolument et
irrdvocablement decr6t6e, puisqu'elle Ta 6tfe sauf redaction,
et que la redaction est a faire.

Je n'ai pas perdu de vue le recueil des mat^riaux pour
6crire quelque chose sur cette revolution, et si rien an
monde peut vaincre le profond sentiment de la dispropor-
tion de mes forces avec une telle entreprise, c'est Ten-
couragement de votre amiti6 ; au reste, la moisson m6me
des 6v6nemens est encore en herbe ; il faut au moins une
seconde 16gislature pour completer Pouvrage de la pre-
miere, et le temps seul peut faire des revelations sans
lesquelles il seroit impossible de donner un corps d'his-
toire. Mais il faut en causer au coin du feu, et surtout
k la promenade. Le petit essai que je fais dans les
fantassins de la litt^rature me montre tous les jours davan-
tage combien j'ai peu de gout pour ce metier. Vous dites

the exclusion being extended to the children. If I am mistaken on
this point, I am at least sincere ; but I cannot think that I am
wrong : facts, in a matter of this kind, are better than abstractions.
I could quote you a thousand in which this exclusion enforced has
brought about the redress of injuries, of misfortunes, nay, of crimes;
and I do not know one where it has led to injustice. The law is
not yet absolutely and irrevocably passed, but it was so, with the
exception of the wording of it, which is still to come.

I have not lost sight of the collection of materials with a view of
writing something on the Revolution; and if anything in the
world can overcome the deep sense I entertain of the disproportion
between my own powers and such an undertaking, it is the encou-
ragement which your friendship gives me. However, the harvest of
events is not yet ripe ; there must be a second legislature at least to
complete the work of the first, and time alone can bring to light
those facts, without which it would be impossible to form the
groundwork of a history. But we must talk the matter over by our
fireside, and especially in our walks. The slight attempts which I
am now making in the lighter ranks of literature show me every
day more and more how little taste I have for this vocation.

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que nous ennuyerons de Gendve k force de repetitions,
autant que le vertueux Necker de son int^gritfe ; cependant
c'est le plaisir de parler quelquefois de Gendve qui nous
donne le courage d'aller en avant. Nous en disons trop
pour nos lecteurs, mais pas assez pour nous ; et je ne
vous promets pas de me corriger 1^-dessus, quoiqu' assur§-
ment je sente bien que vous avez raison.

Vous avez done lu les Confessions de Rousseau ; * on
voit combien son style dependoit de Tetat de son ^me.
On y cherchoit I'histoire de ses sentimens, on n'y trouve
gudre que celle de son menage. La premiere lecture
m'a desappoint^ ; la seconde m*a fait plus de plaisir. II
est si bon homme, si naif; il se montre avec tant de
verite ; ses sentimens sont toujours si prds de la nature.
Get ouvrage a fait peu de sensation, mais cette sensation
n'a pas ^t^ d6favorable k Rousseau. Cerutti a eu beau
imprimer des injures dans le Journal de Paris; il n'a
persuade personne.

Mille petites occupations m'empSchent de causer avec
vous aussi longuement que je me I'etois promis. En
relisant ma lettre, je m'aper9ois que je n'ai presque rien

You say that we shall tire out people by our repeated allusions to
Geneva, as much as the virtuous Necker does by descanting on hia
integrity ; nevertheless, it is the pleasure we feel in sometimes talk-
ing of Geneva which gives us tne courage to go on. We say too
much about it for our readers, but not enough for ourselves ; and I
make no promise of amendment, although I quite feel that you are
right.

So you have read Rousseau's Omfetaiont.^ One sees how much
his style depended on the state of his mind. One seeks in it for the
history of his feelings and opinions, and one finds only that of hia
domestic life. The first reading disappointed me ; the second gave
me more pleasure. He is so good — so simple ; he describes himself
with such truth ; his feelings are always so close to nature. The
work has made little sensation, but that little has not been unfavour-
able to Rousseau. Cerutti might have spared his abuse of it in the
Journal de Pari* ; he has convinced no one.

A thousand little occupations prevent me from talking with you
as long as I had wished. In reading over my letter, I perceive that

1 See note, p. 290.

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294 CORBESPONDENCE WITH Dec.

dit de ce que je voulois vous dire. Je m'en console en
pensant que le peu que j'ai dans mon r6pertoire nous
foumira matiere k conversation. Dites beaucoup de
choses de ma part ai nos amis de Frith St. ; je me promets
tant de plaisir de nos paisibles soir6es, qu*il redouble mon
impatience de me debarrasser de mes liens. Le Courrter
de Provence ne m'enrichit pas ; nous ferons banqueroute
avant que nous ayons 8auv6 les debris de cette sotte en-
treprise.*

Letter LXIV.

TO BfR. VAUGHAN.

Dec. 29, 1789.

I am very much obliged to Lord Lansdowne for
sending me the Domine Salvum* &c. ; and am very grate-
ful for his goodness towards Dumont in feeling any soli-
citude on his account. I cannot, however, entertain
the least doubt of Dumont's being perfectly safe at
Paris, notwithstanding his being named in that libel.
A work so contemptible and so malignant, replete with
notorious falsehoods, can hardly have made impres-
sion on anybody. I believe the only person who has
thought it deserving of any notice is the aristocratical
editor of the Ley den Gazette, You may recollect my
speaking to you about the book, near two months ago,

I have scarcely said anything of what I had intended. I console
myself with thinking that the little which remains of my budget
will furnish us with matter for conversation. Say many kind things
for me to our friends in Frith Street. I promise myself so mudi
pleasure from our quiet evenings, that it makes me doubly impatient
to throw off my fetters. The Omrrier de Provence is not making
my fortune ; we shall be bankrupts before we have saved anything
from the wreck of this foolish undertaking.^

» See note, p. 269.

* This was a political pamphlet, which had been published some
weeks before at Paris, and in which M. Dumont bad been men-
tioned as the principal writer of Mirabeau's journal (the Onanrier de
Provence),

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when I dined at your house with Mr. Dugald Stewart.
Perhaps I did not say that Dumont was named in it ; in-
deed, I thought it of little consequence. However, my
friendship for Dumont could make me wish, if himself
alone were to be considered, that he were no longer at
Paris ; for it is impossible not to feel the utmost indigna-
tion when one sees the services which he has rendered to
the French nation, and which are certainly not much less
considerable than those of any one man in the National
Assembly, have no other reward than the calumnies of
the most malignant libellers. I believe it is no exag-
geration to say that all the good which Mirabeau has done
was suggested to him by Dumont or Duroveray, and that
they have prevented him from doing nothing but what was
mischievous. It is hardly necessary to say that Dumont
has acted with the purest disinterestedness, and that he
has never had any other object in view than that of being
useful. He has done what few people could have had
magnanimity enough to do ; he has seen his compositions
universally extolled as masterpieces of eloquence, and all
the merit of them ascribed to persons who had not written
a single word in them : and he has never discovered that
he was the author of them but to those from whom it was
impossible to conceal it. Of everything that he has
written, the advantages have been shared between Mira-
beau and his bookseller, the one taking the glory, and the
other the emolument. It is true that, with respect to the
Courrier de Provence,^ Dumont ought by agreement to
receive a share of the profit ; but the honest bookseller
always manages so well that, though the book is in every-
body's hands, there never are any profits to divide.

S. R.
* See Dumont's Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, pp. 120-129.

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1790—1791.

Lbttkr LXV.

to m. dumont.

Dear Dumont, J«»- 26. 1790,

I sit down to answer your letter of the 18th of this
month ; but it will give me great pleasure if the answer
does not reach you, and if you have quitted Paris before
my letter gets there. I assure you I am much more im-
patient for your return than you are yourself. I trembled
lest you should set out for Geneva ; but you say nothing
about any such intention, and therefore 1 trust you have
given it up. I still fear, however, that you will again get
involved with the Courrier de Provence ; but, indeed, you
ought not, through good nature, thus to sacrifice yourself
to others. I shall not be easy till 1 see you quietly esta-
blished in Berkeley Square, writing the History of the
Revolution, and giving me sheet at a time to translate.
Positively you must undertake it. Your objections, which
amount only to this, that you will not be able to attain an
ideal perfection which you have painted to yourself, are
good for nothing. With all the defects which even your
severity may imagine, it will still be the most useful work
that has been published for a century, and will be infinitely
better executed by you than by any other person that
attempts it. Once more, you must undertake it. Make
it a work for posterity, but make it a work for the pre-
sent generation too ; and prepare for yourself the sublimest
of all pleasures, that of contemplating the extensive good
which you will have effected. Indeed, I am serious in
thinking that you cannot renounce the idea of writing the
work I have mentioned to you, and be exempt from all
criminality.

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My only commissions are to beg you would bring me
the Bishop of Autun's* book on Lotteries, a copy of my
Reglemens of the English House of Commfms^ Helvetius's
Letters, and to inquire the date of the Abbe Sidyes' pam-
phlets. At least I don't, at present, recollect any others.

I grieve beyond measure that the National Assembly
does nothing respecting the slave-trade. The question
has been revived here the first day that the House met
on business. If there were any prospect of the French
giving up the trade, I think it certainly would be abolished
here. I cannot conceive why it is delayed. If the sub-
ject were merely introduced, and the temper of the French
seen, it would be sufficient.

I write in great haste.

Yours affectionately,

Saml. Romillt*

: Letter LXVI.

TO MADAME G .

Gray's Inn, Jan. 26, 1790!.

I was very sorry. Madam, that I could not send you
my congratulations ^ at the same time that you received
those of your other friends. I am sure that you will have
received none more sincere, and that no one has formed
more ardent wishes for your happiness than I have. AH
those wishes, indeed, are now comprehended in one — that
of long life ; for length of life to both of you must be to
both a prolongation of the greatest happiness. I long to
pay you both a visit, and to see you in your menage, which
I cannot express in English, because we have no word for
it; although there is no country, I believe, where the
domestic comforts which it imports are more felt and
valued than in ours. As I cannot visit you in reality, I do it
often in idea, and transport myself from my solitary
chambers in Gray s Inn, to the cheerful fireside of my
dear friends in the Rue des Capucines. I accompany you
too in many of your frequent visits to M"®. D , and

1 Talleyrand. « See ante, p. 74.

^ On her marriage.

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298 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Jan.

enjoy the satisfaction she feels at being surrounded by her
happy and virtuous family.

We, in England, are surprised and rejoiced that so
great an operation as the division of the kingdom should
have been accomplished in France without anything that
deserves the name of opposition. So convincing a proof
of the unanimity and public zeal of the whole country
makes it impossible even for the most incredulous to
doubt any longer of the success of the Revolution. I
was present in our House of Commons on the first day of
the session, and blushed for our legislators when I heard
Lord Valletort*s observations on the French Revolution,
and found that they passed without animadversion. How-
ever, it was a very thin House ; none of the considerable
men of opposition were there, and the friends of the
ministry were probably unwilling to disconcert their young
aristocratical friend in his first essay at public spesiking ;
but this, I admit, is a very bad excuse.

I am disappointed and vexed beyond measure at the
turn which affairs seem likely to take in Flanders. One
would have thought it impossible that one of the first
measures of a people who had just recovered their inde-
pendence, and who had such examples before them, would
be to sanction their old government, with all its abuses,
and that one of the worst governments on the face o^ the
earth ; and that in all their manifestoes they should com-
plain of the Emperor's tolerating other religions as an
insufferable grievance. Indeed, one can hardly rejoice at
their success. It is of little consequence that they have
thrown off the yoke of Joseph II., since they willingly
submit to the double yoke of a proud aristocracy and a

persecuting superstition. Pray assure M. G of my

most affectionate regard ; and believe me, &c.

Saml. Romilly.

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Letter LXVII.

FROM MADAME G .

[Paris,] 7 Fevrier, 1790.

Si nous 6crivons rarement a nos amis. Monsieur, nous
y pensons bien souvent, et rarement un jour se passe sans
une occasion de prononcer votre nom entre nous : tantot
un ev6nement politique, tant6t la lecture d'un de vos
grands poetes, nous ramene a vous ; et surement il y a
bien peu de pens^es interessantes auxquelles votre idee
ne puisse Stre li^e. Vous voulez nous aflBliger en nous
pr6sentant comme si peu probable Tesp^rance de vous voir
en France ; mais I'avenir est si incertain, il am^ne si sou-
vent des maux et des biens sur lesquels on ne comptoit pas,
que nous ne voulons point d^sesp6rer du plaisir de vous
voir au milieu de nous, et nous nous reposonspour cela sur
le temps et les circonstances.

Nos affaires ici von t bien, et la venue du Roi k I'Assem-
bl6e a produit un excellent effet.* On est k present tout
occup6 de preter serment, Vous trouverez peut-Stre quel-
que ridicule dans cette id6e, et qu'on se presse trop de

Letter LXVII.

rParig,] Febraary 7, 1790.
If we seldom write to our friends, Sir, at least we very often
think of tbem, and scarcely a day passes without there being some
occasion to mention your name : at one time a political event, at
another the perusal of one of your great poets, brings us back to
you; and, indeed, there are very few interesting thoughts with
which you are not associated in our minds. You seem bent on
distressing us, by holding out so little prospect of our seeing you in
France. But the future is so uncertain, it brings with it so often
both good and evil, upon which one did not reckon, that we are
r^olved not to despair of having the pleasure of seeing you amongst
us, but to trust for it to time and circumstance.

Our matters go on well here, and the Kings visit to the Assembly
has produced an excellent effect.^ Every one is now busy in taking
the oath. You will perhaps think this notion somewhat ridiculous,
and that people are in too great a hurry to swear to maintain a con-

^ On the 4th of February the King came to the Assembly to
accept the constitution formed by them ; and on the following days
the oath of fidelity to the constitution was taken by the Assembly
and other public bodies.

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jurer de maintenir une constitution qui n'estqu'^bauch^e.
Tout cela a ^t^ produit par une effervescence qui ne per-
mettoit pas la reflexion, mais qui aura de bons effets.
L'Assemblee trayaille avec ardeur, et parott bien dispose.
Les finances sont toujours notre cdt6 malade, et c'est ce-
pendant le point important ; mais les biens du clerg6 se-
ront notre salut, et on va s'occuper tr^s-incessamment de
mettre en vente ceux qui en sont susceptibles. La France
offre dans ce moment un beau spectacle, et je ne doutepas
que vous n'y fixiez avec complaisance vos regards, d'autant
plus qu'actuellement tout est calme et tranquille, et qu'D
n est plus question des horreurs qui ont tant rgvolt6, et
avec raison, les Strangers.

La division de la France^ parott achev6e ; mais ce n'est
pas sans peine, et il est difficile d'imaginer le travail du
comity de constitution. Les reclamations ont 6t^ innom-
brables, et il n*y avoit pas de petit village qui n*eut de
fortes raisons k all^guer pour dtre choisi pour cbef-lieude
district ou de d^partement. Les municipalit^s sont for-
nixes en grande partie ; les Elections sont assez bonnes, et

stitution of which nothing exists but a mere outline. All this has
been brought about by an ebullition of feeling which allowed no
time for reflection, but which will do good. The Assembly is
earnest in its labours, and appears to be well disposed. Finance is
still our weak point, and yet the most important ; but the church
property will be our salvation, and steps are about to be taken to
offer for sale that portion of it which can be so disposed of. France
affords at this moment a noble spectacle, and I have no doubt that
you contemplate it with pleasure ; the more so, that at present all
is calm and tranquil, and that there is an end of the horrors with
which foreigners were so greatly and so justly shocked.

The division of France^ appears to be completed, but not without
difficulty ; and it is not so easy to form an idea of ^e labours of the
constitution-committee. The claims set up have been numberless,
and there was no little village which had not strong reasons to urge
for its selection as the capital of the district or department. Most
of the municipalities are formed. The elections are tolerably good ;

^ The Act which decreed a division of France into eighty-three
■Iments was passed on the 15 th of January, 1790 ; and the letters
of the King relative to this new division of the kingdom were
on the 4th of March. See Moniteur for 1790, No. 17.

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dans trols endroits on a 61u pour maire Tintendant, et dans
beau coup des privilSgies.

Excusez, Monsieur, ma precipitation, mais je ne veux
pas manquer encore ce courrier. Croyez d notre amitie.

M. D. G.
Letter LXVIII.

FROM MADAME G .

Paris, 4 Mars, 1790.

M. Dumont vient de nous faire dire, Monsieur, qull
partoit pour TAngleterre, c'est i dire, qu'il all})it vous re-
voir et vous rejoindre ; on ne pent se refuser k le charger
d'un petit mot pour vous. Nous avons re9U les pamphlets
et votre lettre qui en indique la destination qui a €ti aus-
8it6t fidelement remplie. Nous avons lu, avec beaucoup
d'int6r@t. Thoughts on the InflueTice,^ &c., dont Tauteur se
cache si soigneusement qu'on n'ose pas le deviner, quoi-
qu'on en ait pourtant bien envie. Ce sera un bien beau
spectacle que T^mulation de ces deux nations pour parve-
nir au bien et au perfectionnement dans leurs gouveme-
mens, et qui rendra bien meprisdble et bien puerile celle

in three places the intendant has been elected mayor, and in many
others persons of the privileged class.

Excuse haste, but I must not again miss the post Believe
me, &c.

M. D. G.
Lettbe LXVIII.

Paris, March 4, 1790.
M. Dumont has just sent us word, Sir, that he is setting out
for England ; in other words, that he is going to see and join you.
We cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of giving him a few lines for
you. We received the pamphlets you sent us, and immediately
forwarded them to their destination, according to the directions con-
tained in your letter.

We have read, with much interest, Vtoughts on the Influence,^ &c.,
the author of which conceals himself so carefully that we do not
venture to guess who he is, although we are very anxious to do so.
It will be a very noble spectacle to behold the rivalry of these two
nations vying with each other in their endeavours to increase the
measure of human happiness, and to perfect their respective govem-

* Thoughts on the probable Influence of the French Revolution on
Great Britain^ printed in 1790. See ante, p. 76.

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302 CORRESPONDENCE WITH March,

d'un genre bien different qui a existe depuis si longtems
entr'elles. Je souhaite bien vivement que cette emulation
soit bient6t fetablie k juste titre, et que le moment oil I'An-
gleterre aura quelque chose k envier k la France k ne soit
pas trop 61oigne. Notre position, d Tenvisager philoso-
phiquement et moralement, est grande, belle, et faite pour
animer et exciter tons les sentimens nobles et eleves. Mais
le r^gne de I'imagination ne subsiste pas toujours, et nous
avons bien des maux r6els. Au reste, il nous sied /ort
mal de tenir ce langage, car nous sommes du nombre de
ceux auxquels la revolution ne procurera que de grands et
nombreux avantages, et d qui elle ne coiitera presque rien.
Je plains foiblement aussi ceux qui ne sont attaqu^s que
dansleurs pr^jug^s les plus chers, qui perdent des places,
des pensions mSme, quoiqu'une grande revolution de for-
tune soit souvent bien p^nible sL supporter. Mais je g^mis
8ur la cessation d'ouvrage de tout genre, de manufactures
de toate espdce, qui se fait sentir d'un bout du royaume a
Tautre, et qui cause une misere aussi difficile k imaginer
qu'ck d^crire ; heureusement que la belle saison qui s'ap-
proche va beaucoup adoucir sa rigueur. C'est vraiment
le c6t6 triste de la revolution, celui qui fait dlsirer avec

ments ; which will place in a justly puerile and contemptible light
that very different rivalry which has so long subsisted between them.
I fervently hope we may soon see this spirit of emulation in operation
on proper principles, and that the moment is not far distant when
France may possess something which may be justly envied by
England. Our position, looking at it in a philosophical and mend
point of view, is great and noble, and calculated to animate and
excite every fine and elevated feeling. But the reign of imagination
will not last for ever, and we are suffering under many re^l evils.
However, it ill becomes us to hold this language ; for our family
is of the number of those to whom the revolution will bring many
and great advantages, and will cost scarcely anything. Nor do I much
pity those who are attacked only in their darling' prejudices, who lose
places, and even salary ; although a great reverse of fortune is often
very hard to bear. But I do lament over the cessation of every kind
of work, and of every sort of manufkcture, which is felt from one end
of the kingdom to the other, and which creates an amount of misery
as difficult to imagine as to describe ; fortunately, the summer is
coming on, and will greatly mitigate its severity. This is indeed
the melancholy side of the revolution, and makes one long very

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une bien vive ardeur que Tordre et la coniiance, qui feront
tout revivre, renaissent bient6t. II est peu probable que
la France donne k TAngleterre Texemple de rabolition de
la traite et de Tesclavage des nSgres : oncraint d'ouvrir
une nouvelle plaie, et peut-Stre pour I'honneur de notre
humanity le craint-on trop.

Je desire ardemment que vous conserviez votre bonne
opinion de notre revolution ; et je souhaite bien que nous
la justifions : c'est siirement un des suffrages qui lui fait
honneur, et je me le cite souvent pour ranimer mes esp^-
rances. Recevez, &c.

M. D. G.

Letter LXIX.

FROM MADAME G .

Paris, 2 Mai, 1790.

Nous sommes depuis quelque temps priv6s duplaisir
de vous ^crire, Monsieur, et cependant nous avons regu
plusieurs marques de votre souvenir. Nous avons envoy6,
des le mSme jour qu'il nous est parvenu, Touvrage* de M,
Bentham k un membre du comit^. de constitution, qui sait
parfaitement I'Anglois ; et certainement, si ces messieurs
Font voulu, ils ont eu assez tdt connoiss^nce de cet int6-

ardently for what would give new life to everything, the restoration
of order and confidence. It is little likely that France will set
England the example of abolishing the slave-trade and slavery :
people are afraid of opening a fresh wound, and too much so perhaps
for the honour of humanity.

I fervently wish that you may retain your good opinion of our
revolution, and I much hope that it may be justified. Your good
opinion is one of those which do us honour ; and I ojften recall it
to my mind for the sake of reviving my hopes. Believe me, &c.

M. D. G.
Letter LXIX.

Paris, May 2, 1790.
We have for some time been delved of the pleasure of
writing to you, Sir, although we have received several tokens of your
kind recollection of us. We forwarded, on the same day that it
reached us, Mr. Bentham 's work^ to a member of the constitution-
committee, who knows English perfectly ; and certainly, if the com-
mittee had wished to profit by this interesting work, they have been

Emancipate ywr Coloniei,

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804 CX)RRESPONT)ENCE WITH May.

ressant travail pour pouvoir en profiter. L'Assemblee est
s^rieusement occup^e de Tordre judiciaire dans ce moment
On craint beaucoup qu'elle ne fasse qu'^ moiti6 bien;
peut-etre auroit-il ^t6 plus sage de ne faire que de change -
mens provisoires, et de renvoyer k quelques ann6es ce tra-
vail important, qui pourroit bien se ressentir de Tagitation
des esprits, de Texaltation des tetes, &c. Je redoute quel-
quefois, Monsieur, que vous ne nous trouviez bien F^an-
fois dans la plupart des choses que nous avons faites. On
s'6chauffe, on dispute, on discute avec esprit de parti ; on
decide promptement, parcequ'on est press^ par les circon-
stances ; et quand le dicret est rendu, on se persuade qu'il
€toit impossible de pouvoir rien faire de mieux. II y a
une fermentation plus vive que jamais dans I'Assembl^e
depuis quelques jours. Les derniers d^crets sur les biens
du clergS ont caus^ une irritation chez ceux qui en sont
les victimes qui va jusqu'^L la rage. Dans leur desespoir
ils se portent aux derni^res extr6mit6s. Heureusement
que leur influence sur les esprits est trds-foible, etque leur
protestations et toutes leurs d-marches ne servent qa*k les
rendre moins intfiressans, et k gSter leur cause. Je crois

in possession of it quite long enough to have done so. The Assembly
is at this moment earnestly engaged on the judicial establishment
It is greatly feared that what it does will only be half done ; and
perhaps it would have been wiser if none but temporary alterations
had now been made, and the permanent execution of this important
work had been postponed some years, to a period when it would be
less likely than it now is to suffer from the agitation and enthusiasm
of men^s minds.

I sometimes fear that you must think most of the things we have
done very French. We get heated, we dispute, we discuss with
party-spirit; we decide precipitately, because we are pressed by
circumstances, and when the decree is passed we persuade ourselves
that it was not possible to do better.

For some days past the Assembly has been in a more violent state
of ferment than ever. The last decrees respecting the property of
the church have caused an irritation amongst those who are suflferers
by them which amounts to a state of phrenzy ; and, in their despair,
they would carry matters to the last extremity. Happily their
influence on men*s minds is very slight ; and all their protestations
and proceedings serve only to lessen the interest with which they
are regarded, and to injure their cause. If you were in the midst
of us, I think you would have many painful moments, and that you

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que, ei vous 6tiez au milieu de nous, vous auriez souvent
des m omens p6nibles, et que vous souffririez de la licence
effr^n^e qui r^gne dans les Merits, dans les propos. Toute
id^e de d6cence, de retenue, est foul6e aux pieds, et il est
d craindre qu'on n*ait de la peine k se raccoutumer d ob6ir
auxlois qu'on se sera impose^s. Au reste, ce qui peut
rassurer, c'est que les provinces sont beaucoup plus calmes
et raisonnables ; que la mil ice nationale est partout fort
bien compo86e et dispos6e d faire ex6cuter les d^crets de
TAssemblee.

Nous avons, au milieu des agitations de la revolution,
pas86 un hiver trds-beureux et paisible, fort r6unis en fa-
mille, prenant Tint^rSt le plus vif k la revolution, et nous
affligeant quelquefois de voir les deux partis aller trop
loin. Toutes les fortunes ont M pendant quelque temps
en grand danger ; mais Top^ration des assignats semble
r^ussir, et probablement nous sauvera. Recevez, Mon-
sieur, mille choses de vos amis de Paris, qui s'occupent
bien souvent de vous, et qui vous sont bien sincSrement
attaches. M. D. G.

would grieve at the unbounded licence which pervades all writings
and all conversations. Every idea of decency and of restraint is
trampled under foot ; and it is to be feared that men will not easily
return to a habit of obedience to the law, even though it be the law
of their own creation. In the mean time, one may derive some con-
fidence from the fact that the provinces are much more tranquil and
reasonable, and that the national militia is everywhere formed of
good materials, and is well disposed to give effect to the decrees of
the Assembly.

In the midst of all the agitations of the revolution, we in our
family circle have passed a calm and happy winter, taking the
deepest interest in the revolution, and grieving sometimes to see both
parties going too far. All private property was, for some time, in
great danger ; but the operation of the oMignatt seems to succeed,
and will probably prove our salvation.

I have many kind messages to send you from your friends at
Paris, who think of you very often, and are very sincerely attached
to you.

M. D. G.

VOL. I.

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305 CORRESPONDENCE WITH June,

Letter LXX.

to madame g .

Madam, ^^"^y'* ^^' J*^® ^ 1790.

You are apprehensive that I shall think a great deal
of what has been done in France is very French; and I
guess that you allude to an observation which I remember
to have made on young Vernet's picture at your exhibition :
but though your countrymen have acquired a manner in
the fine arts which is peculiarly their own, it may be
doubted whether they have been legislators long enough
to have given their name to any peculiar mode of legis-
lation. I assure you, however, that, if I were to venture
to call any species of law-making French, I should use
that expression as a term of great honour, and not of
reproach. The National Assembly are better judged of
at a distance than near at hand, because they should be
judged by what they do, and not by their manner of doing
it. I find this by experience ; and I have, I assure you,
much more respect for the National Assembly now that I
am in London than I had while I was at Versailles. I am
fifiur from approving of everything that they have done ;
but one finds so much to admire, that one is not willing
to dwell upon the few things which one would wish were
otherwise than they are.

I congratulate you on the decision of the National As-
sembly 1 on the king's right of making war. I hope it has
given you as much pleasure as it has me. I consider every
difficulty thrown in the way of making war as so much
gained to humanity ; and if a project of universal peace
can ever be established, I am satisfied it must rather be

^ The decree of tbe National Assembly on this subject was made
on the 22d of May, 1790, and was in substance as follows : — "The
right of making peace and war belongs to the nation. War can only
be decided on by a decree of the legislative body, passed on the
formal proposal of the king, and sanctioned by him.'* See Momtatr
for 1790, No. 144

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by disarming kings than by the Abb6 St. Pierre's congress
of regal deputies. 1 know that many very warlike re-
publics have existed, and that it is easy to cite the example
of the Romans, the Carthaginians, and so forth ; but I
hope the French Revolution has put those kinds of his-
torical arguments quite out of fashion. I know, at least,
that by such arguments I could have proved to demon-
stration, eight months ago, that the districts of Paris, —
those sixty republics, as they were called, — with their
senates and their demagogues, would never have submitted
to be annihilated; which however has since happened
without opposition (as far as we have heard here, at least)
even of a single individual.

I am afraid, though I should not call anything that has
passed with you very French, you would, if you had been
here at the first news of a Spanish war, have thought us
very, very English. The discovery of the grand elixir,
which would efface pain and disease out of the list of
human calamities, could not have given a man of humanity
more pleasure than some persons felt here at the piospect
of plundering foreign merchants, and burning and sinking
Spanish ships. It is very fortunate for France that her
National Assembly does not meet in a city where they can
be much influenced by the barbarous prejudices of persons
concerned in privateering, or in particular branches of
commerce. The situation of our parliament has more than
once made an unjust and impolitic wax have the ap-
pearance of being popular. I had the mortification, a few
days ago, of finding myself considered as a maintainer of
the most extravagant paradoxes, because I asserted that
a war of any kind must be to England a calamity ; but that
a victorious war would be the greatest of calamities. And
this is thought a paradox; after the experience of the
glories, as they are called, of Lord Chatham's administra-
tion,— ^glories which procured no one solid advantage to
this country ; which did not add one single moment's hap-
piness to the existence of any human being, but which
were purchased by an immense debt, by infinite blood-
shed, and, what was worse, which gave us false notions of
our honour, and our dignity, and our superiority, of which

X 2

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308 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Aug.

we cannot be corrected but by the loss of much more
treasure and more blood I But I beg your pardon for
troubling you with my observations on these melancholy
subjects. I would have talked with you of subjects more
pleasing to us both, but it is now too late to correct my
error, for I have got to the end of my paper, and it is im-
possible for me at this moment to command time enough
to begin another letter. Pray remember me very affec-
tionately to Mr. G., &c. &c.

Lettbr LXXI.

TO THE SAME.

London, Angost 20. 1790.

The first use. Madam, to which I devote the leisure
that the long vacation affords me is to return you many
thanks for the translation of Mr. Bentham's book on
Usury y^ which you did me the favour to send me. I have
read it with very great pleasure. It appears to me to be
extremely well done, and the omissions and alterations
which have been made in the order of the work I think
very judicious. I have given a copy of it to Mr. Bentham,
who is exceedingly pleased with it, and returns many
thanks to his unknown translator for so ably assisting
him in propagating opinions which he hopes will prove
useful to mankind.

I very gladly seize the opportunity of M. de la Roche's
departure to send you the new edition of Adam Smith's
Theory of Moral Sentiments. It was published only a few
months before the author's death, and contains many
passages and some whole chapters not published in any of
the preceding editions. These will afford you entertain-
ment if you should be, as I suppose you are, already ac-
quainted with the rest of the work. If that should not be
the case, you will receive great pleasure from the whole of
it. Not, indeed, that I think his theory perfectly solid :
but the speculations of an ingenious man on such a sub-
ject are always interesting, and those of Adam Smith
would render any subject interesting. I have been sur-
prised, and I own a little indignant, to observe how little
* Defence of Umry,

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impression his death has made here. Scarce any notice
has been taken of it, while for above a year together, after
the death of Dr. Johnson, nothing was to be heard of
but panegyrics of him — Lives, Letters, and Anecdotes:
and even at this moment there are two more Lives of him
about to start into existence. Indeed one ought not,
perhaps, to be very much surprised that the public does
not do justice to the work^ of A. Smithy since he did not
do justice to them himself, but always considered his
Theory of Moral Sentiments as a much superior work to
his Wealth of Nations,

The French Revolution seems to be growing popular,
where one would last expect it, even in our universities.
One of the questions proposed this year by the Vice-
Chancellor of Cambridge, for a Latin prize dissertation,
was, ** Whether the French Revolution was likely to prove
advantageous or injurious to this country ;" and the prize
was given to a dissertation* written to prove that it would
be advantageous to it.

I was very agreeably surprised to hear from my friend
Mr. Vaughan that he had spent part of one of the very
few days which he passed at Paris in your company. I
have been importuning him with questions about you,
and have made him tell me where he saw you, and when,
and for how long, and how long he walked in the garden
at Passy, and everything which could assist me to trans-
port myself to the same scene, and to make one of the
company.

Pray assure Mr. G of my warm and unalterable

friendship. I mention him less frequently in my letters
than I should do if I did not consider the whole of them
as being addressed to him at the same time as to you.

Letter LXXIL

TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, September 25, 1790.

After reading Duroveray's letter with the greatest
attention, I cannot say that I find in it sufficient reason to
^ This diflsertation was written by Mr. Whisbaw.

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810 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Sept.

induce you to undertake the journey which he proposes.
If he does not deceive himself as to the situation of affairs
at Geneva, your presence seems quite unnecessary ; and
matters are likely to be settled without you, if not in the
best manner possible, at least in the best that can be
expected : and if he does deceive himself, and considers
matters with too sanguine hopes, it must be at least doubt-
ful what can be done, and how distant may still be that
crisis which he supposes has already arrived. I cannot
conceive how Duroveray can persuade himself that the
people of Geneva ought to be careful not to let the pre-
sent opportunity pass imimproved. That opportunity (if
it ought to be called by that name) is what the French
Revolution has offered them, and seems likely to be an
opportunity which will last for ages. A counter-revolution
is impossible ; and, if there were degrees of impossibility,
it would be still more impossible that France should again
exercise any control over the government of Geneva. The
most essential thing, therefore, at Geneva is to do nothing
precipitately ; the making a constitution is a work of rea-
son, not of enthusiasm. Argument and discussion may be
of great use at the present moment at Geneva ; but I do
not see what good is to be done by eloquence ; and argu-
ment and discussion may as well be communicated to them
from London as at Geneva. I can easily conceive, in-
deed, that if you were on the spot you might be able to
induce them to do more for the natives than they would
otherwise do; but I own I should dread the effects of
what they might be induced to do merely from a sudden
movement, with which they would be inspired, and which,
in cooler moments of selfish reflection, they might repent
of. It is easy to foresee the jealousies which might arise
from hence, how the seeds of future divisions might by
that means be sown, and how the most generous conduct
on your part might in the end receive no other reward
than the complaints and dissatisfaction of your country-
men. With all this, however, 1 cannot in my conscience
tell you that I think you would be of no use at Geneva.
I have too high an opinion of your talents and your virtues
to think that you could ever be useless where any good

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1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 3U

was to be done. But, of whatever use your journey might
be to your countrymen, I am sure it would be of none to
yourself: and a person, destined to do as much good as I
sincerely believe you are, ought to be allowed a little to con-
sider what effect any measure he may take is likely to have
on his own character. A person who sets out on such a
mission as that on which your friends desire you to go to
Geneva assumes to himself a degree of importance which,
however well you may be entitled to it, it is not in your
temper to assume, and which, if such an expedition prove
fruitless, cannot fail of covering him with ridicule. I
admit, however, that all this and much more ought to be
risked, if there were a prospect of rendering any important
service to your country; but I cannot persuade myself
that this is the present case. The disinclination you have
to going i6 Geneva is alone sufficient to convince me that
you would be of little service there ; and though I cannot
blame the zeal of your friends, who importune you to
surmoimt that disinclination, and to sacrifice your own
ease to an object which they think important, yet, in fact,
it is much easier to recommend sacrifices than to make
them. The truth is, that we never know what the sacrifices
are which we recommend ; and that which we look upon
as only a slight inconvenience may be to the person whom
we would persuade to submit to it a very serious evil. I
say all this merely to convince you that you alone are the
proper judge what you ought to do. Trust to your own
judgment alone. Regard no part of the letters which you
receive from Geneva but the facts they contain, and the
opinion which is entertained of your abilities and your
virtues, and from those data decide whether you oi]^ht to
go or not. To undertake such a journey, on such an
occasion, merely from deference to the opinions and wishes
of others, is a weakness hardly excusable. Trust to your-
self, and I have no doubt of your doing right.

I dined two days ago with Trail, who vas in town for a

day. He is very much pleased with Mirabeau's two

speeches on the family compact and the assignats,^ and

has conceived a higher opinion of him than he ever had

i See Motiiteur for 1790, Nos. 240 and 241.

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312 OORBESPONDENCE "WITH * ' Oct.

before, at finding he can do so much when deprived of
the assistance to which he owed so great a part of his for-
mer reputation.

Erskine is returned from Paris a violent democrat. He
has had a coat made of the uniform of the Jacobins, with
buttons bearing this inscription, " Vivre libre ou mourir,"
and he says he intends to wear it in our House of Com-
mons.

Yours affectionately,

Saml. Romillt.

Letter LXXIII.

TO M. G-

J)q2lT G - Gny's Inn, Oct. 29, 1790.

I thank you for your good news, and congratulate you
upon it most cordially. I will venture to cast the nativity
of your little daughter, and to pronounce that she is infal-
libly destined to be happy ; for the education she will re-
ceive cannot fail of rendering her so. You promise me
that she is by and by to be my very good friend ; in the
mean time, however, I foresee that the little damsel will do
me a great deal of mischief, and will engross moments that
otherwise perhaps would be employed in writing some of
those letters which I always expect with so much impa-
tience, and read with so much pleasure. Pray tell Mad«.

G , however, that I shall never admit the validity of

such an excuse ; and since she has received her morality
from me, tell her that I hold it to be an indisputable prin-
ciple in morals that there are no incompatible virtues,
and that therefore she may be a good mother and a good
correspondent too ; and, much as I wish well to my little
new-born friend, I cannot consent to sacrifice to her the
very few hours in the year which I have any claim to. In
short, tell her that I shall not believe she is perfectly re-
covered till I see a letter from her under her own hand.

At the same time that you tell me you won't speak of
public affairs, you let me discover very easily what your
opinion of them is ; but I really think that, if you are dis-
appointed at the turn which the Revolution has taken, it

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1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 313

is because you expected too much. I will admit all the
violence, and, if you will, even the interestedness, of the
leaders in the National Assembly ; but that men should
act from the pure motive of procuring good to others,
without any regard at all to themselves, is, I am afraid,
more than one is entitled to expect, even under the
most perfect government that human wisdom could desire,
much more imder such a government as that under which
the characters of all the men who are now acting any
public part in France have been formed. Notwithstand-
ing the vanity and ambition of some individuals, and not-
withstanding the injustice which the Assembly itself has
been guilty of in several instances, it must be admitted
that no assembly of men that ever met since the Creation
has done half so much towards promoting the happiness
of the human species as the National Assembly. Don't
imagine that I judge of what is passing in France merely
from the accounts in our English papers ; I constantly
read four French papers ; and among them the Gazette
Nationale, and the Journal des Debats et des Dicrets,
Our English papers indeed afi'ect to treat everything
which is done in the National Assembly with contempt ;
but it is the contempt of the contemptible.

Our parliament is to meet on the 25th of next month ;
and we shall then learn, it is to be hoped, why we have
been making such expensive preparations for war. There
are, I think, about 150 or 160 new members in the par-
liament ; some of them certainly will take part in the
debates. Erskine is, I think, the most remarkable of
these, though his eloquence, which certainly is very great,
was not displayed to much advantage when he was for-
merly in parliament. Another new member, who will
probably speak, is Sir Elijah Impey, the East India Judge,
the friend of Mr. Hastings, and the man against whom
the last parliament were very near voting an impeach-
ment. As to Mr. Hastings himself, his partisans pretend
that the dissolution of the parliament has put an end to
his impeachment ; and it is said that even the Chancellor
maintains that opinion. It is an opinion, however, for
which the principal members of the House of Commons

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3 14 OORRESFONDENCE WITH Not. 1790.

insist there is not the least foundation, and there will
probably be some violent debates on the subject in both
houses. If, on the pretence of a dissolution, an end
should be put to the trial, I should not be at all surprised
to see Mr. Hastings dignified with a peerage, and .taking
his seat among his judges, as his friend Sir Elijah Impey
has taken his among his accusers.

Pray remember me very affectionately to Mad«. D ^

and to all her family.

Yours, 8ec.

Sahl. Romillt.

Lettbe LXXIV.

FROM MADAME G .

Paris, 3 Nov. 1790.

Nous venons de recevoir, Monsieur, votre obligeante
lettre, et je ne laisserai pas partir M. Smith sans quelques
lignes qui vous prouvent mon parfait r^tablissement,
puisque vous ne voulez y croire qu'4 cette condition.

Nous sommes bien aises que vous con8id6riez encore
notre revolution et notre position sous un aspect un
pen favorable. Votre opinion nous redonne du courage.
Peut-etre notre difi6rence de maniere de voir tient-elle d
ce que vous ne voyez que les resultats des operations de
]*Assembiee, et que nous, qui sommes sur le lieu de la
scdne, nous sommes blesses du spectacle du jeu des passions
dans tons leurs exces, des fureurs de la cabale, de Tintrigue,
uniques ressorts qui conduisent dans ce moment nos af-

Letteh LXXIV.

Paris, Nov. 3, 1790.
We have jiut received your obliging letter, and I cannot
allow Mr. Smith to leave lu without a few lines which may satisfy
you as to my complete recovery, since you will believe it on no
other condition.

We are very glad that you still view our revolution, and the
posture of our affairs, in a somewhat favourable light. Your good
opinion gives us fresh courage. Perhaps the difference in our mode
of viewing arises from your seeing only the results of the proceed-
ings of the Assembly, whilst w^ who are on the spot, are shocked by
beholding the working of passions in all their excesses, and the
raging of cabals and intrigues, the only springs which now direct

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Feb. 1791. M. DUMONT. ETC. 3^5

faires. Quelquefois on ne peut s'empScher de craindre
qu'une si grande depravation, dans les esprits et dans les
caxact^res, ne nuise et n'empoisonne totalement tout le
bien qu'on avoit lieu d'esp^rer de la revolution. Voil^ la
cause du d6couragement des honnStes gens, qui g^missent
de voir tous les jours se reculer davantage I'^poque du
retour de Tordre et de la paix au milieu de nous.

M.D.G.

Letter LXXV.

FROM THE SAME.

Paris, 18 Fevrier, 1791.

Nous aurions dii r^pondre bien plutdt. Monsieur, i
votre obligeant envoi, et ^ la lettre qui Taccompagnoit,
que M . Dumont nous a remise. Nous nous sommes pro-
cur6 le plaisir de parler beaucoup de vous avec lui : nous
avons tdche d'arranger que vous fissiez bient6t un voyage
ici, et nous trouvons que vous ne pouvez pas vous en dis-
penser. Pensez bien, Monsieur, au plaisir que nous
aurons k vous voir, k tous les objets d'inter§t que la
France peut vous ofPrir, et vous serez de notre avis. Nous
vous rendons mille graces des pamphlets que vous nous
avez envoy^s : ils nous sont fort agreables ; car on met ici
un tr^s- grand int^rSt k ce que vous dites et pensez de

our movements. Sometimes one cannot help fearing lest so great a
depravation of mind and disposition should neutralise, or entirely
poison, all the good one had reason to expect from the revolution.
This it is which discourages right-minded men, who lament to see
ihe time when order and peace may be restored to us becoming
every day more distant.

Letter LXXV.

Paris, Feb. 18, 1791.
We ought, Sir, to have acknowledged much sooner your oblig-
ing packet, and the letter which accompanied it, and which M.
Dumont delivered to us. We indulged the pleasure of talking
much of you with him. We endeavoured to settle for you the plan
of a journey to Paris, which we really think it is incumbent on you
to put into early execution. Consider well the pleasure we shall
have in seeing you, all the interesting objects which France offers
to you, and you will agree with us. We return you many thanks
for the pamphlets you have sent us : they were very welcome ; for
we feel a strong interest in all that you say and think about us.

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15 CORRESPONDENCE WITH ' April,

nous. C'est i dire, que, quand vous bl^ez quelques-unes
de nos operations, les aristocrates triomphent, et se font
gloire de votre autorit^, tandis que les d6mocrates disent
que vous etes recules, que vous n'^tes pas encore k notre
hauteur, et que vous ne connoissez pas encore les prin-
cipes. Quand vous nous admirez, alors c'est different;
car, pour le bl&me et la louange, les Jacobins sont hommes,
comme pour plusieurs autres petites choses. Mirabeau a
6prouvfe un 6chec dernier ement ; il ^tait en concurrence
avec M. Pastoret, pour etre Procureur-Syndic de notre
d6partement. Danton a fait un discours pompeux, pour
prouver aux 61ecteur8 qu'il devoit Stre 61u, mais cette fois
Teloquence a eu le dessous, et M. Pastoret I'a emport^.

Vous avez mille choses de tous les individus de notre
famille. Notre petit enfant prosp^re 4 merveille, et nous
procure d6ji beaucoup de bonheur. Recevez Tassurance
de la sincere et inviolable amiti6 de mari et femme.

Letter LXXVI.

TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, London, April 5th, 1791.

I make you no apology for not writing sooner, be-
cause you deserve none. I own I have been much disap-
pointed, after all your promises, to have received only
one letter from you since your departure. The only way

That is to say, when you blame any of our proceedings, the aristo-
crats triumph and glurify themselves on the strength of your autho-
rity ; while the democrats say that you are gone backwards, that
you have not risen to our height, and that you have not yet any
knowledge of principles. When you admire us, then the case is
altered ; for, in so far as blame and praise are concerned, the Jacobins
are much like the rest of mankind ; as, indeed, they are in many
other small matters. Mirat)eau has lately met with a rebuff; he
was opposed to M. Pastoret as candidate for'the place of Procureur-
Syndic of our department. Danton made a pompous speech to
prove to the electors that he ought to be elected ; but, for this once^
eloquence had the worst of it, and M. Pastoret carri^ the election.
Every member of our family unites in kind regards to you. Our
little child thrives wonderfully, and is already a source of much
happiness to us. Believe in the sincere and unalterable friendship
of husband and wife.

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1791. , M. DUMONT, ETC. 317

in which I can account for it is by supposing that you
intend to return very shortly,— the end of this month or
the beginning of the next, as you at first intended. The
politics of Geneva at least will not delay you, as I under-
stand everything is finally settled. I cannot give you
my opinion of that settlement, as I am not sufficiently in-
formed of the circumstances that relate to it.

Kirkerbergher,^ I am afraid, is quite forgotten by you.
I have written a few letters for him since you went, but
he will not be able to go on with spirit till you return.
We have been anticipated in our design by a real Kirker-
bergher — a man of the name of Wendeborn, who has
published a book in two volumes 8vo., entitled, A View qf
England towards the Close of the Eighteenth Century.
I have only seen the accounts which the Reviews give of
it, and it seems accurate, and not devoid of merit ; but I
do not believe that we shall find he has often taken the
same ground as we take. I thought K. had been a name
of our own invention, but I find Rousseau, in his Con-
Jessionsy mentions a Bernese of that name who made him
a visit at the He de St. Pierre.

There have been several answers to Burke since you left
us, but none that have much merit, except one by Paine,'
the author of the famous American Common Sense. It is
written in his own wild but forcible style ; inaccurate in
point of grammar, flat where he attempts wit, and often

* It appears from preceding letters that Mr. Romilly had been
very urgent with M. Dumont to write a History of the French
Revolution. This suggestion was never acted on to the full extent
<jf Mr. Romilly's wishes ; but a series of historical letters on the
events of which M. Dumont had been an eye-witness, during the
four months from Apiil to September, 1789, were written by him,
and translated into English by Mr. Romilly. To this translation
were added several original letters, on subjects connected with the
manners and institutions of England, all of them, with one ex-
ception, by Mr. Romilly himself; and the whole was published in
a small 12mo. volume, in 1792, under the title of GroenveWt
Lettertf that name beuig substituted for Kirkerbergher, which they
had at first chosen. It is afterwards referred to under the letter K,
Various circumstances, which it is unnecessary to state, prevented
the intended continuation of this work.

* Righi* of Man,

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318 CORRESPONDENCE WITH April,

ridiculous when he indu]ge8 himself in metaphors ; but,
with all that, full of spirit and energy, and likely to pro-
duce a very great effect. It has done that, indeed, al-
ready ; in the course of a fortnight it has gone through
three editions ; and, what I own has a good deal surprised
me, has made converts of many persons who were before
enemies to the revolution. As you are not likely to see
it soon, I will give you a specimen of his manner. He is
speaking of the law of primogeniture. " The nature and
character of aristocracy shows itself to us in this law. It
is a law against nature. Establish family justice, and
aristocracy falls. By the aristocratical law of primoge-
niture, in a family of six children, five are exposed.
Aristocracy has never more than one child ; the rest are
begotten to be devoured. They are thrown to the can-
nibal for prey, and the natural parent prepares the un-
natural repast. All the children which the aristocracy
disowns (which are all except the eldest) are in genend
cast, like orphans, on a parish, to be provided for by the
public, but at a greater charge. Unnecessary offices and
places in governments and courts are created, at the ex-
pense of the public, to maintain them." He speaks of
titles of nobility with true republican contempt, and says
that " they afford no idea," that " no such animal as a
Count or an Earl can be found anywhere but in ima-
gination."

Bentham leads the same kind of life as usual at
Hendon ; seeing nobody, reading nothing, and writing
books which nobody reads. His brother, who is a colonel
in the Russian army, and a great friend of Potemkin's, is
on his road to England, on a visit My brother and sister
desire to be remembered to you.

Yom-s sincerely and affectionately,

Saml. Romilly.

d by Google

1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 319

Letter LXXVII.

FROM MADAME G .

Paris. 7 Avril, 1791.

Nous avons regu ces jours derniers encore un paquet
de vous, Monsieur, contenant les reflexions de M. Bentham
BUT notre ordre judiciaire, une esquisse du r^gne de George
III., et une r6ponse k M. Burke. Nous vous rendons
mille graces de ces marques d'attention, fort agr^ables en
elles-memes, et qui ont de plus le m^rite de nous assurer
de votre souvenir. Vous devez trouver que nous y r6pon-
dons bien mal, car nous n'avons pu vous envoyer aucune
brochure ni nouveaut6 qui fiit digne de vous. Nous avions
pens6 un instant k vous faire parvenir les M€moires de
Franklin, dont nous avons ici une traduction informe et
incomplete, mais nous avons presume que vous connoissiez
peut-etre, deji le manuscrit, et qu'ils ne devoient pas tar-
de k paroitre en original k Londres. Nous avons lu
Touvrage de M. Paine en reponse k M . Burke ; c'est la
folie inverse ; oependant il y a des idees assez piquantes, et
assez neuves, et qui sont assez au niveau de celles qui
remplissent les tStes Fran9oise8 actuellement.

Letter LXXVII.

Paris, April 7, 1791.
We have received within the last few days another packet from
you, containing the observations of Mr. Bentham on our judicial es-
tablishment^ a sketch of the reign of George III., and an answer to
Mr. Burke. We return you many thanks for these marks of atten-
tion, very agreeable in themselves, and which have the additional
merit of assuring us that we are not forgotten by you. You must
think that we make a very poor return, for we have not been able to
send you any pamphlet or new publication worthy of you. We had
atone moment thought of sending you Franklin s Memoirtj of which
we have here an imperfect translation ; but we presumed that you
-were, perhaps, already acquainted with the manuscript, and that the
original would shortly be published in London. We have read Mr.
Paine's woik in answer to Mr. Burke ; it is the opposite extreme of
madness; it contains, however, ideas somewhat new and striking,
and which are pretty much on a level with those which at present
fill the heads of Frenchmen.

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320 OORBESPONDENCE WITH April,

Vous aurez surement pris part a la perte que la France
vient de faire par la mort de M irabeau.^ L'impression
que cet 6v6nement a produite seroit seule une preuve suf-
fisante que la revolution est complete et achev6e jusques
dans les derni^res classes de citoyens ; que les titres, les
rangs, les places ne nous 6blouissent plus, etque le talent
seul sera disormais Fobjet des regrets et des honneurs.
La carriSre de Mirabeau nepouvoitpasfinir dans un mo-
ment plus propice pour sa gloire : six moisplutot sa mort
auroit ete consid6r6e comme heureuse pour la chose pub-
lique, et il y a seulement deux mois qu'elle auroit et6 vue
generalement avec indiff6rence. Mais depuis quelques
semaines il avoit tellement embrasse le bon parti, et on
sentoit sibien qu*il devoit faire reussir tout ce qu'il vou-
droit, que tons les honngtes gens avoient mis leur espoir
en lui, pour le retour de Tordre et de la paix, et le re-
gardoient comme laterreur'des factieux etlesoutien de la
constitution ; aussi, sa perte cause-t-elle des craintes ex-
ag6rees peut-etre. II faut se flatter que les vrais amis de
la chose publique se rallieront avec plus de fermete encore,
en proportion de ce qu'ils sentent que sa mort pent leur
6ter. Nous n'avons plus rien k apprendre, je crois, des

You will, no doubt, have felt for the loss which France has ju«t
suffered by the death of Mirabeau.^ The impression which this event
has produced would alone be sufficient proof that the revolution is
complete, and that its effects extend even to the lowest classes of the
people ; that titles, rank, and office no longer dazzle us ; and that
talent alone will henceforth be the object of our regret and of our
homage. Mirabeau's career could not have come to an end at a mo-
ment more propitious for his own fame ; six months earlier his death
would have been considered as a happy event for the public ; and
only two months ago it would have been looked upon with general
indifference. But for some weeks past he had so entirely taken up
the right side, and it was so strongly felt that he could not but ac*
complish whatever he wished, that all well-disposed people had
placed in him their hopes for the restoration of order and peace, and
looked upon him as the terror of the factious and the prop of the
constitution. Accordingly, his, loss has raised fears, which are, per-
haps, exaggerated. We must hope that those who have the public
good at heart will rally with a degree of vigour proportioned to their
sense of the loss they have sustained by his death. We have no-
thing more to learn, I believe, from the Greek and Roman republics,

* Mirabeau died on the 2nd of April, 1791.

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1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 321

r^publiques Grecques et Romains, pour les honneurs k
d^cerner aux grands hommes. Les spectacles, les diver-
tissemcDS publics, ont 6t6 ferm6s : tous les corps k Penvi
ont d6cid6 de porter le deuil et de se rendre k son convoi.
L'AssembI6e Nationale, les 61ecteur8, la municipalit6, le
d^partement, les ministres, plusieurs clubs, une grande
parti de la garde nationale, &c., formoient le cortege le
plus imposant et le pluslugubre ; unconcoursinnombra-
ble de peuple 6tait sur son passage ; un morne et profond
silence r^gnoit dans cette multitude immense, qui parois-
soit frapp6e d^un sentiment nouveau et extraordinaire.
C'6tait seulement grand dommage que quelques vertus ne
pussent pas se trouver dans le nombre de choses qu*on
regrettoit dans cet homme illustre, et qu'au contraire, le
talent s'y trouve obscurci par tout cequ'il y a de d^goiitant
dans la nature humaine ! Son corps a 6t6 pr6sent6 k St.
Eustache, oii s'est fait le service funebre, et ensuite depos6
k I'ancienne 6glise de Ste. Genevieve, en attendant qu'il
puisse Stre plac6 dans la nouvelle ^glise k cdt6 des grands
hommes que rAssembl6e jugera digne d'y admettre. Mi-
rabeau a conserv6 une trds-grande presence d'esprit et un
grand sang-froid jusques dans ses derniers momens. II
fait par son testament un grand nombre de legs. II pos-

with respect to the honours to be decreed to ^reat men. The
theatres and other places of public amusement were closed, and all
public bodies vied with each other in their zeal to put on mourning
and to attend the fiineral. The National Assembly, the electors,
the officers of the municipality and the department, the ministers,
several clubs, and a large portion of the national guard, formed a
most imposing and mournful procession ; an immense concourse of
people attended it on its passage ; a deep and solemn silence reigued
throughout the countless multitude, which seemed to be overwhelmed
by some new and extraordinary feeling. What a pity it is that no
virtues are to be found among the things for whica this illustrious
man is regretted ; and that, on the contrary, talent was in him ob.
scured by all that is most repulsive in human nature ! His body was
taken to St. Eustachius, where the funeral service was performed,
and it was afterwards deposited at the old church of St. Genevidve,
where it will remain till it can be placed in the new church, by the
side of the other great men whom the Assembly may think fit to
admit there. Mirabeau retained great presence of mind and compo-
sure up to the last moment. He leaves, by his will, a great number
VOL. I. Y

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322 CORRESPONDENCE WITH April,

sdde une terre, line maieon, el I'apergu de sa fortune est
d 'environ un million, mais on croit qu'il en doit deux. M.
de la Marck, son ami, a promis de suppleeri ce qui pour-
roit manquer, pour que ses demidres volontSs puissent
Stre remplies, mais M. de la M arck est endett^ au-del^. de
ce qu'il possdde. II laisse quelque chose k Mad. le Jay, a
ses enfans, puis k un fils naturel, ensuite k une de ses sceurs,
et k ses nieces.

Mon mari na pas le temps de vous ecrire ; il vous
adresse mille choses.

Agr6ez, &c.

Letter LXXVIII.

FROM M. DUMONT.

Sacconex.i 9ATril« 1791.

Voil^ done Mirabeau 6teint au milieu de sa carridre !
Est-ce un malheur pour la revolution ? Je le crois. Sa
maison fetoit un foyer de liberte. S'il ne travailloit pas
lui-mSme, il faisoit travailler ; il excitoit les talens, et don-
noit un appui considerable au parti qu*il embrassoit. II

of legacies. He ponessed an estate and a house, and his fbrtane is
estimated at about one million, but it is believed that he owes two.
His friend, M. de la Marck, has promised to make good what may
be wanting to carry into effect his last wishes ; but M. de la Marck
himself owes more than he is worth. He leaves something' to Ma-
dame le Jay, to her children, to a natural son, to one of his sisters,
and to his nieces.

My husband has not time to write to you. He desires many kind
regards.

Believe me, &c.

Letter LXXVIII.

Sacconez,^ April 9, 1791.

So Mirabeau is extinguished in the midst of his career ! Is it a

misfortune for the revolution i I think it is. His house was a focus

of liberty. If he did not work himself, he made others work : be

stimulated men of talent, and was a strong prop to the party whose

* Near Geneva.

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1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 323

6tait dangereux, sans doute, k cause de ses passions, qui le
gouvernoient absolument; mais on pouvoit les dinger
au bien, et 11 avoit Tamour de la gloire. J'ai senti, aux
regrets que saperte m*a fait ^prouver, qu'il avoit bien plus
gagn6 mon affection que je ne le savois moi-mSme. On
ne pouvoit pas le connottre et n'Stre pas seduit par son
esprit et ses manidres caressantes. Combien de fois il m'a
fait deplorer qu'il manqu&t k ses moyens la puissance que
donne une reputation intacte ! II a 6l€ consume par ses
passions ; s^il avoit su les mod^rer, il avoit pour cent ans
de vie. Nob aristocrates le dSchiroient, et ils le regrettent.
C'est une perte pour eux que celle d'un homme qui sou-
tenoit le credit public.

Je compte partir du 20 au 25 de Mai pour Paris, et du
10 au 15 Juin pour Londres ; ainsi j'arriverai vers le mi-
lieu de Juin et je me remettrai d*abord pour m*6gayer et
me distraire k la correspondance de Kirkerberg. II faut
renoncer k faire un nom Allemand, puisqu'on ne sauroit
en imaginer un assez dur, assez barbare, assez Gothique
pour qu'ils ne s'en soient pas d6ji empares. Je suis presque
siir que tout sera prSt pour le temps o^ nous Tavons
pens6, et j*ai pris quelques mesures indirectes pour la

cause he espoused. He was dangerous, no doubt from his passions,
which exerted absolute dominion over him ; but even these might be
directed to good ends, and he had a love of glory. I felt, from the
grief that I experienced at his loss, that he had acquired a stronger
hold on my affections than I had been myself aware of. It was im-
possible to know him, and not be fascinated by his talents and his
engaging manners. How often have I lamented that his powers
should have wanted the influence of an unsullied reputation i His
passions have consumed him ; if he had known how to control them,
he might have lived for a hundred years. Our aristocrats tore him.
to pieces, and they regret him ; the death of a man who sustained
public credit is a real loss to them.

I propose to set off for Paris between the 20th and 25th of May,,
and to leave it for London between the 10th and 15th of June, so that
I shall arrive towards the middle of June ; and, by way of an agree-
able diversion to my tlioughts, I shall at once set to work on Kirker*
berg. We must give up the idea of inventing a German name forr
our letters, since it is impossible to imagine one so harsh, barbarous,
and Gotiiic, as not to nave been abready appropriated. Every-
thing will be ready, I have little doubt, by the time we had antici-
pated, and I have indirectly taken some steps for the publication...

Y 2

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publication. Ne seroit-ce encore qu'un songe agr6able ?
mieux vaudroit un joli songe qu'un mauvais r6veil. Quoi-
qu'il en soit, je suis bien silr qu'on ne perd rien pour at-
tendre. L'int6r@t ne diminue en aucune mani^re, et rien
n'a paru qui doive d^courager T^mulation de nos corre-
spondans.

Letter LXXIX.

TO liADAME G .

Madam, G»y'» !»»» May 20, 1791.

I am very much ashamed of not having written to
you sooner ; and I am ashamed, too, of making you an
apology, because you are so used to such kind of apologies
from me. The best apology I could make would be to
give you an account of the manner in which my time has
been spent ; but I shall spare you the pain of reading so
uninteresting a diary, in which you would find me per-
petually occupied in a way which, of all others, is least
pleasant to me.

I am exceedingly obliged to you for the very interesting
account you give me of Mirabeau's funeral. I sincerely
regret his death. You certainly do not do him justice,
when you suppose him destitute of all private virtues.
I know that he was capable of very warm friendship,
that he often exerted the greatest zeal, and made very
considerable sacrifices to serve his friends. I know, too,
that he has been very grossly calumniated in several in-
stances which have come under my own immediate ob-
servation.^

You have before this time heard, and, I make no doubt,
lamented, how the question respecting the abolition of

What though it should still be but an agreeable dream f and yet an
agreeable dream is better than a sad waking. However that may
be, I am sure that nothing is lost by delay. The subject loses
none of its interest, and our correspondents have no reason to be dia-
eouraged by anything that has yet appeared.

See ante, p. 59.

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the slave-trade has been decided in our House of Com-
mons.^ Nothing can be more disgraceful to the nation
than such a decision, after so long an inquiry too ; and
after that inquiry had shown the necessity of an imme-
diate abolition in the strongest light possible, and had
converted into well-authenticated facts what had before
been only matter of conjecture, and the supposed and
probable consequences of the trade. I believe the history
of mankind cannot furnish another instance of a nation,
calmly, and after long deliberation, giving its sanction to
continual robberies and murders, because it conceives
them to contribute to its riches. We have but one con-
solation under this disgrace ; it is a consolation, however,
which is itself the source of another species of disgrace.
It is that our House of Commons is not a national assem-
bly, and certainly does not speak the sense of the nation.
It is remarkable that, though the question was carried
by a great majority, not one man who has any character
for abilities spoke on the side of the majority, and all the
^ members who are most eminent for their talents took a
very active part on the side of the abolition. But elo-
quence, humanity, policy, reason, and justice were easily
defeated by the most stupid prejudices. The question,
however, is not (as the West India planters flatter them-
selves) now at rest. It will be resumed in a future session,
and must before long be carried. The arguments urged in
the last debate, though they could not convince the House of
Commons, have produced a very great effect on that large
portion of the public whose hearts are not hardened by
opulence, nor their understandings corrupted by com-
mercial and political prejudices. Even the arguments
for the trade have contributed to increase the public
horror of it. One member, an alderman of London, to
prove the advantage of slavery to this country, told the
House that it afforded a market for the refuse fish and

^ On the 19tb of April, 1791, Mr. Wilberforce's motion for leave
to bring in a bill to prevent the further importation of slaves into the
British colonies in the West Indies was lost in the House of Com-
moDS by a majority of 163 to 88.

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corrupted food, which could be sold for no other de-
scription of persons. Undoubtedly, neither the trade,
nor even slavery in the islands, can exist for many years
longer ; and yet it is dreadful to think what misery must
be endured in the interval which is to elapse before
they are abolished.

We have had violent debates in our House of Commons
on the French revolution ; and they have produced a
total, and, as it should seem, an irreparable breach be-
tween Fox and Burke. Fox has gained much with the
public by his conduct, and Burke has lost as much. It is
astonishing how Burke's book is fallen ; though the tenth
edition is now publishing, its warmest admirers at its
first appearance begin to be ashamed of their admiration.
Paine's book, on the other hand, has made converts of a
great many persons, which I confess appears to me as
wonderful as the success of Burke's ; for I do not under-
stand how men can be convinced without arguments,
and I find none in Paine, though I admit he has great
merit. It is a book calculated, I should have thought, to
strengthen preconceived opinion, but not to convert any
one. However, the event shows that I was wrong. The
impression which it has made in Ireland is, I am in-
formed, hardly to be conceived. But the French revolu-
tion there has always been universally popular ; and if the
enthusiasm which it has kindled should anywhere break
out in acts of violence, it will certainly be first in Ireland.

I write to you in very great haste, and, I fear, illegibly ;
but t would not let slip the only opportunity I may have
of writing for some time. Pray let me hear from you,
and as often as you can conveniently. I don't deserve it
by my letters, but I do by my thoughts, which transport
me perpetually in the midst of your family. Pray re-
member me very aifectionately to all of them, particularly

to my dear friend G .

Saml. Romilly.

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1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 327

Lbttek LXXX.

FROM MR. TRAIL.

Paris, June 27, 1791.

Nothing can exceed the good order and tranquillity
which have reigned at Paris ever since the King s elope-
ment^ Some very seditious resolutions have been adopted
and published by some of the inferior clubs, and some
abominable libels have also been published against Lafay-
ette and the municipality, but, it would seem, with very
little effect. Profound silence was recommended to the
people on the entrance of the Royal family ; and it was
in general observed. I stood in the Champs Elysees, on
the edge of the road, from three till near eight, and I
never saw more tranquillity or even indifference on any
occasion. An officer passed us about half an hour before
the King's arrival, and called out as he passed, *' Chapeau
Bur tSte !" This order was punctually observed. I heard
of a young man, who lost his hat, being obliged to get be-
hind, that nobody might appear uncovered. In all the
conversation I heard, not a symptom of pity or sympathy
appeared — nor much resentment. Ridicule, contempt, or
great indifference, characterized all the observations that
were made. When the Royal family got out of the car-
riage, three gardes du corps, who had acted as couriers,
and were brought back tied on the coach-box, were for
some time in great danger of being put to death by the
mob, and even by the national guards. A deputation
from the National Assembly arrived in time to save them ;
they are in prison. It is needless to give you an account
of the King's being stopped. Everything known about
it has been published by the Assembly. It is certain that
the King has repeatedly declared that he did not mean to
quit the kingdom. When Lafayette's aide-de-camp pre-

^ The King's flight from Paris took place on the night of the 20th
— 2lst of June, and he was brought back on the 2dtb.

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328 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Jone,

sented him with the decrees the Assembly h^ passed
immediately on the discovery of his flight, it is said both
the King and Queen expressed themselves with much
violence and resentment.

I have been much entertained in listening to the dis-
cussions in the groups formed in the Palais Royal and in
the streets. I have heard very little violence against the
King, a good deal against the Queen, but still more
against those who assisted their escape. ** Le Gros
Cocbon " is the most common appellation. They seem
unwilling to believe that the guards about the Tuileries
knew nothing of the elopement. A woman said, speak-
ing of the Queen and Madame Elizabeth's escape, ** S'U
avoit ^t£ question de Madame d*Artois et de Ma-
dame de Provence, je les aurois cru 6chapp6es en bonnes
Savoyardes par la chemin^e.'* When the King was
passing yesterday, a man by me said, ** Voila vingt-cinq
millions perdus, pour un Louis gagne !'* The day the
King went o£P, it was a very common reflection that the
nation would save thirty millions a year. I did then sup-
pose that the general opinion was for a republic ; but I
am now persuaded I was mistaken, for since, nobody talks
of it— at least very few. All the schemes I have heard
proposed imply continuing the monarchical form of go-
vernment. They do also imply setting aside in efiect, if
not also in form, the present sovereign. When the com-
missaries from the Assembly met the Royal famUy, the
Queen said, " Eh bien, factieux, vous triomphez encore !"
She asked Lafayette's aide-de-camp, who came up with her
at Varennes, " En quel 6tat est Paris ?'* " Dans la plus
parfaite tranquillity ; votre depart n'inspiroit que du m6-
pris.'' The King, on his arrival, was, it is said, much in-
toxicated. A thousand other circumstances are repeatedly
mentioned. I give you these, as the most likely to be true
of all I have heard.

When the people were destroyin?: all the insignia of
royalty they coidd find on signs, &c., they came to the
head of the King of England, a sign of one of the restaura-
teurs in the Palais Royal ; when they were about to " faire
main basse,*' an orator persuaded them that the King of

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1791. M. DUMONT. ETC. 329

England was a good man, and the only good king in Eu-
rope, and so saved his Majesty's head. I did not hear
what arguments he employed.

After P6tion and Barnave got into the carriage with
the Royal family, the Dauphin examined the legend on
Barnave's buttons, one after another, and at last said,
" Vivre libre, ou mourir partout, M aman."

Voltaire's funeral procession will probably be put off.
They* say here, " Le clerg6 a refus6 d'enterrer Voltaire, et
Voltaire a enterr6 le clerg^."

Letter LXXXI.

TO MADAME 6-

Madam, Gray's Inn, August 2, 1791.

Indeed it is not just that you should always wait to
receive a letter from me before you let me have that plea-
sure. You have many subjects to write on, while I have
none that are worth saying anything about. Every day
furnishes materials for a volume in the land of wonders
which you inhabit ; but here every day passes exactly like
that which went before it. I speak of London, for at
Birmingham ^ that happy uniformity which is the effect of
peace and prosperity has been dreadfully interrupted. It
is very singular that all the persons who have most suffered
from the outrages of the rioters were persons particularly
distinguished for their benevolence and charity, and who
had most contributed to the prosperity of Birmingham by
their industry. But all their virtues were of no avail in
the eyes of men who had been deluded, by those who are
very improperly called their superiors, into a belief that
they intended to overturn the civil and ecclesiastical con-
stitution of the country. I do not say this from conjec-
ture, for I am just returned from Birmingham, where I
have had occasion to inquire particularly into the causes
and circumstances of the riots, and I am perfectly con-
vinced that the persons who were the most active in
destroying and burning the chapels and houses are not

^ The riots at Birmingbam took place on the 14th of July and
following days.

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330 CORRESPODENNCE WITH Sept.

by any means the most criminal. The celebration of the
French revolution was entirely forgot in the rage of the
people against the Dissenters. Several of those who have
most suffered were not at the dinner, and had never en-
tertained any thoughts of going thither ; and the only cry
that was heard among the mob was, " Church and King
for ever, and down with the Presbyterians !*' I enclose
Dr. Priestley^s and another letter giving an account of the
dinner, which may perhaps entertain you.

Pray have the charity to write to me soon, and send me
good news of the health of your little girl, for Mr. Trail
does not mention her so often as her mother.

I beg to be remembered very sincerely and affectionately

to M. G , to Mad*. D , and to all your family-

Yours, &c.

Saml. Romilly.

Letter LXXXII.

TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, September 6. 1791.

I send you the conclusion of the letter on Lotteries,
and another letter on Cruelty towards Animals. I believe
I formerly read it to you ; but I have since added to it, and
I think improved it. It consists of scarcely any thing but
description ; but the subject admits of nothing else. Men
cannot be I'easoned into humanity ; and perhaps our rea-
ders will not be sorry to find that we do not ergotise for ever.
I have added several passages from you to the letter
on Elections and some of my own, and on the whole I
think it much better than it was. I have been working
very hard since you left us. I hope you have done the
same. I long to see some of your original letters. Re-
member that, as yet, since K. has been in England, you
have done nothing but translate. Pray send me originals
and translations as fast as you can. I can hardly reckon
upon more than a month's leisure, if so much, and after

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17W. M. DUMONT, ETC. 33 j

that, adieu to K. Enable rae to make the best use of my
time. Never send me a larger packet than I now send
you, lest K. should cost me more in MS. than he will
ever repay me in print.

Yours affectionately,

S. IL

Letter LXXXIII.
from mr. george wilson.»

Hdtel da Roi, an Carousel,
Dear Romilly, Wedneaday night, Sept. 21, 1791.

You have in the French papers probably more French
news than I can give you. Since the completion of the
Constitution, the Assembly has been dull, and we have

^ The foUowiDg account of Mr. Wilson and Mr. Trail is taken
from a copy [ireserved by Sir Samuel Romilly of a letter written by
him to Sir Jas. Mackintosh, in 1816 : —

«CabaJva,Sept 8, 1816.

'^ Whisbaw told me, just before he left town, that you were desirous
of knowing where I first became acquainted with our late excellent
friend George Wilson ; and I intended immediately to have written
to you, but the unusually early and late sittings of the Chancellor,
day after day for the last three weeks, left me not a moment that I
could call my own, and it really has not been till I have got out of
town that I have had an instant of leisure. My first acquaintance
with Wilson was in the year 1784. The first circuit I went, which
was in the spring of that year, I met Trail, who was then travelling
it for the last time. Having gone round to every assize-town for
three successive circuits, without having a single brief, he gave it
up in despair, as he afterwards relinquished the Chancery bar. He
was a very remarkable instance of a man most eminently qualified
to have attained the highest honours of the profession, but who,
having no other recommendation than his great talents, was indeed
respected, admired, and consulted continually ; but it was only by
those who were of ihe same rank in the profession with himself. No
attorney ever discovered his merit ; he never got any business, and
the profession was to him only a source of expense and disappoint-
ment. By being continually in the same society during the three
weeks or month that the circuit lasted, we became very well ac-
quainted together ; and he was so intimate with Wilson, that it was
impossible to have formed a friendship with him, and not frequently
to be in Wilson's society. In a short time I became as intimate
with the one as with the other, and our friendship remained un-

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332 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Sept.

gone seldom ; we were present when the King's letter ^
was read, and enjoyed the transport with which it was
received by all parts of the Salle, except the coU

diminished and uninterrupted for a moment till I lost both of them
by death — Trail in 1809, and Wilson in the present year,

<< You were yourself so well acquainted with Wilson, that it is
not likely that I should be able to inform you of any incident of his
life, or any ingredient in his character, which is not already known
to you. Perhaps, however, you may not have had so many oppor-
tunities as myself of observing his great sensibility and warmth of
affection. Under a cold and reserved exterior he had the warmest
attachment to his friends, and the tenderest sympathy for the mis-
fortunes of others, that I ever met with; and though there was
something of austerity in his manner, he was singularly kind and
even indulgent to all about him. You knew, and must have re-
marked, the clearness of his understanding, the soundness of his
judgment^ the propriety and perspicuity of his language, and the
great ex tent of his learning as a lawyer, and the readiness with which
be applied it. That with such qualifications, so universally known,
acknowledged, and brought into practice as they were by his being
for many years the leader of the Norfolk circuit, he should never
have been raised to a judicial station, or, I should rather say,
should never have had such a situation offered to him, must be ad-
mitted to be matter of just reproach to those at whose disposal
judicial offices are placed. If judgeships were elective, and the
Bar — that is, the men best able to estimate the qualifications of a
candidate — were the electors, he would, by their almost unanimous
suffrages, have been raised to the Bench. But in truth, it was hit
other admirable endowments which prevented justice being done to
his professional merit. If he had entertained political principles
less liberal and less honourable to himself than he did, be would
probably never have seen men, far his inferiors in learning and
talents, raised over his head to those honours which of right should
have been his. I say probab/y ; for, from what I know of his dis-
position, I entertain much doubt whether he would, at any period
of his life, have accepted the office of Judge, and /whether tiie
ministers might not have had the credit of desiring to raise to the
Bench, without regard to politics, a man whose administration of
justice would have been one of the greatest public benefits they
could have conferred on the country, and yet have enjoyed what
they consider as the solid advantage of appointing to the office as
determined a Tory as they could find amongst their most favoured
friends. He thought so modestly of himself, and was so devoid of

^ Containing the King's acceptance of the Constitution, which had
been presented to him by the Assembly a few days before. On the
29th of September the sittings of the Constituent Assembly terminated.

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1791. M. DUMONT. ETC. 333

droit, who hung their heads and were silent. The pro-
positibn for an amnesty was prodigiously applauded hy
the public tribunes; and the moment the reading was
over, the people in them rushed to the door, tumbling
over each other as if the house had been on fire, to tell
the news all over Paris. At the Champ de Mars, on Sun-
day, the ceremony was very fine, and the people pleased
and good-humoured, but without those transports which
they say were shown at the Federation. The illuminsr
tions in the evening were very fine in the Champs Elys^s
and the castle and garden of the Tuileries. All Paris
was there, and the Royal family appeared in the evening,
and were well received, though perhaps with less en-
thusiasm than Lafayette. On Monday ''Richard*' was
given at the Italiens to an immense house. The song,
•* O Richard, O mon Roi I" was not interrupted till the
excessive applause of the Aristocrats provoked it, and the
piece was heard throughout. A biliet was thrown on the
stage, which the audience desired to have read ; but as soon
as it began, " 0 Louis, 0 mon Roi I " they stopped it, and
a tumult arose. After some time a juge de paix came on
the stage and commanded silence in the name of the law,
which to my surprise was immediately complied with.
He said the spectacle must not be interrupted by this
paper. If the verses were fit to be published, they should
have them in the Journal de Paris next day. The audience
clapped, the piece went on, and the verses have not been
published. Last night all the Royal family were at the
Opera ; the Boulevard and the house as full as they could
hold, and the most enthusiastic applause without any

ambition, and ao contented with the quiet enjoyment of the society
of the small but well-cboaen circle of his professional and literary
friends, that I believe he would have thought the highest honours
and the greatest emoluments of the profession too dearly purchased
by the sacrifices they would have cost him, and the painful duties to
which they would have subjected him. It was not, as you know, till
very late in life that he was promoted to the rank of King's Counsel.
It was at the instance of Lord EUenborough, whose private friend-
ship he had long enjoyed, that that rank was conferred on him,
and I know that it was with some hesitation and reluctance that
he accepted it.''

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alloy. One verse, "R^gnez sur un peuple fiddle," wai
encored, and amazingly clapped ; and the applause, as far
as I could judge, was distributed to their Majesties very
equally. They have been very popular ever since their
enlargement, and the acceptation has fixed it for the
present, though the people in the groups still express a
distrust of the King, and some of the Queen. There is a
story very current that the Queen has discouraged the
Emperor from assisting the Princes, thinking that the
King must be a cipher at all events, and that she is better
under the present government than with the Princes as
conquerors.

Another story is, that the King said lately to an officer
of the national guard that he was afraid of being assassin-
ated by his brothers. Perhaps these things are circulated
to persuade the people that the King and Queen have an
interest in and are attached to the constitution. It is of
great importance that their situation should be made
comfortable, and that the world should think it so ; and
the leading men and the bulk of the people seem sensible
of this, and disposed to contribute to it. Bailly and
Lafayette were in the next box to the King last night,
and several leading men in other parts of the house.
Lafayette is to command at Metz, and BaUly' does not
resign till November. A letter from Monsieur and M.
d'Artois to the King, accompanied with another from the
Cond6s, was published yesterday by Calonne*s printer,
and is said to be authentic. It is, I think, Dl written and
injudicious. It treats all innovation on the old system as
illegal and void, and does not hold another assembly or
any mode of forming a constitution, and it is full of un-
popular expressions about nobility; and the declaration
of the Emperor and King of Prussia is given at the end,
which seems to bind them to nothing ; and the emigrants
at Spa now say that everything is put off till the spring
Last week the invasion was fixed for the beginning of
October. I was in hopes that the amnesty would have

^ Bailly had held the ntuation of mayor of Paris since the 14th
of July, 1789.

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1791. M. DUMONT. ETC. 335

brought back the greater part of the emigrants, but this
letter makes it impossible for the Princes at least. Three
deputies have been chosen * to-day for Paris, one a gold-
smith, and all good men as I hear. Except Brissot, and
Garran de Coulon, and perhaps Mulot, I have not heard
of any violent man being chosen for Paris, and we hear
good accounts of the elections in the country. Perhaps
the best way of extinguishing Brissot is to choose him.
It made an end of Wilkes. There is a story that Thouret,
Chapelier, Beaumetz, and Talleyrand are to be in the
King's council, without office or salary. I hope it is not
true. It would be an evasion of the law which makes
them incapable of office. It would never be believed that
they received no emolument ; and besides ruining these
men and hurting the government, it would throw a sus-
picion on the whole work of the constitution, which is at
present universally popular. The Republicans seem to
be a very small party, and their leaders men of no talent,
and very unpopular in the Assembly. I have never heard
any of them make a tolerable speech. The man with
whom I am most pleased is D'Andr6, and he is now clearly
the leader of the Assembly. I have heard an excellent
character of him in private life, and as a magistrate
at Aix. He is going to set up as a grocer. I never saw
a man do business better, or take his ground with more
judgment. I have been sometimes at the '89,* but do
not speak with sufficient ease to get on much there. The
only man of any eminence that I have made a little ac-
quaintance with is Chamfort, who is a man of parts, but
too fond of talking and of systems. There is a new book
of Volney's, called Les Ruines, ou Meditations sur les
involutions des Empires, written chiefly before the re-
volution, containing reveries of all sorts in a bad form,
with some good things here and" there. I have read but
little of it. Sutton" and Lens live in the house with us,
and we are much with Windham, Mitford, * and Douglas.

^ As members of the Legislative Assembly.
* This was a club called the Club of 1789, established in May,
1790. See Moniteur for 1790, No. 135.

8 Lord Maraiers, * Lord Redesdale.

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336 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Sept.

Everybody sends you compliments, and we hope to hear
from you soon. Sutton has a note to-night from Lally,
who has a letter from you to Trail, which we hope to get
to-morrow morning. I must conclude, because it is very
late ; and I must rise early to go to the Assembly, where
we expect a debate about the colonies.

Yours sincerely,

G. Wilson.

Letter LXXXIV.

FROM MR. TRAIL.

Dear Romilly, Pteii. Sept. 26. 1791.

I had the pleasure of your letter by Mr. Lally a few
days ago. I was in hopes that between Ascough and
Wilson you would have had a regular and circumstantial
detail of what is passing ; but, with the best dispositions,
they have frequently delayed writing till the last moment,
and have then been prevented by some unexpected occur-
rence. I believe, however, they have both written at least
once ; I am sure Wilson did last week.

Things continue pretty much in the same state. The
satisfaction with theKing*s unequivocal and decided mode
of accepting the constitution is still manifest among all
ranks of people. For the present suspicion seems to be
asleep ; and I think it is not impossible, by a continuance
of the same open and frank conduct, to prevent it from
being waked. Some hot-headed people and some specu-
lative republicans are, or affect to be, alarmed at the re-
ception the Royal family meet with wherever they appear,
as if there was the most distant probability of the people
relapsing into their ancient idolatry of the Grcmd Ma-
narque. Last night the King illuminated the Tuileries and
the Champs Elys^es in return for the testimonies of affec-
tion he has received from the people. He went in grand
cavalcade with all the family, preceded by his servants,
and followed by Lafayette and the etat-tnajor, to the bar-
rier, to see the illuminations ; he was well received by an
immense concourse of people wherever he passed. There

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was no enthusiasm to alarm the anxious and timorous
patriots ; hut there was a great deal of hearty good-hu-
mour and satisfaction in everybody's countenance. Al-
though the weather was not so fine as on the preceding
Sunday, there was a much greater assemblage of people
in the Tuileries and Champs £lys6es : perhaps that was
occasioned by the illuminations being much more splendid.
I never saw anything so magnificent.

The National Assembly revoked on Saturday the decree
of the 15th of May ^ in favour of the gens de couleur. I am
sorry it was ever passed ; and am rather inclined to think
that it was wise, under all the circumstances, to revoke
it. It was certainly understood in the colonies, and with
some foundation, to be contrary to the decree or declara-
tion of the 12th of October. It was very likely to occasion
a separation of the colonies from the mother country, as,
at present, measures of vigour for its execution could not
be pursued. That event, though in itself no great mis-
fortune, would, however, have been considered in all the
trading and manufacturing towns a great calamity, and
have been imputed to the revolution. Besides, it is more
consonant to the grands prindpes that the colonies
should be permitted to decide on this matter themselves,
fiarnave has throughout the whole business of the colonies
behaved with great artifice and mawmsefoi ; he has also.
met with severe mortifications in consequence of his mis-
behaviour. He made a very great speech, I am told, on
Friday. Douglas heard it, and was much pleased : so he
is in general with the manner of doing business in the
Assembly. Mitford is also a tolerable French Whig. I
am sorry the decree of Saturday is declared constitu-
tional ; it would have been better to have revoked the
decree of the 15th of May, and to have declared every-
thing relative to the colonies to be within the province of
the ordinary legislature. The friends of the gens ds
couleur in the Assembly are numerous ; but there is not
among them a good head, unless it be the Due de la

1 Making penoos of colour bom of free parents eligible to all colo-
nial and parochial assemblies.

VOL. I. Z

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Rochefoucauld, who has certainly an excellent under-
standing, hut wants energy of manner. Your friend
Dupont has always a crotchet on which he is entM like
a mule. I have not heard how there appeared to he a
decided majority against the colonial committee, although
on the appel nominal there was a majority of ahove one
hundred the other way.

I have just glanced over Talleyrand's report on national
education. I don't like either his general principles or
his plan. I hope the Assemhly won't enter far into the
subject ; they have not time, and of course they wDl do
ill what they attenfpt. It is adjourned to the next legisla-
ture. It is very generally believed that the Queen is
determined to abide by the constitution rather than run
any more risks; and that she is satisfied, if the Count
d'Artois were to succeed, the King would be a cipher,
and the kingdom would be governed by the Princes.
The declaration of the Emperor and the King of Prussia
made but little sensation here ; it amounts to nothing, and
can only be considered as a very civil refusal . The letter of
the King's brothers makes none ; it is said to be Calonne's
workmanship ; it is ill written, and worse conceived.

It is clear that, in the fites nationales which they in-
tend to institute, no religious ceremony whatever will be
admitted. This maybe done on a sound principle, which
can offend nobody. The f^e should be such as every
French citizen can partake of without violence to his
religious principles.

Bailly has offered his resignation as Mayor of Paris,
and, at the request of the municipal body, has delayed it only
till November. It is said he is fatigued ; and he has lately
been insulted by the people, and accused of forestalling
corn, of which he is, most undoubtedly, perfectly innocent.

A great number of Aristocrates have lately quitted the
kingdom. The letter of the Princes and the declaration
of Pilnitz have, perhaps, persuaded, them that a counter-
revolution would be immediately attempted. They all
appear so thoroughly mortified with the King's accepta-
tion and subsequent conduct, that I have not the least
doubt of his sincerity.

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Sutton, Wilson, and Lens desire their compliments.
Lens sets out to-morrow or Wednesday for London and
Taunton.

Yours, &c.

James Trail.

Letter LXXXV.'
TO .

October, 1791.

The impatience which in your last letter you said
you felt to know what had passed at the assizes at Warwick
must have heen already pretty well satisfied by the ac-
counts which have appeared in the newspapers. If your
curiosity was excited by the expectation that, in the
course of the trials, some discovery would be made of the
first instigators of the riots, you must have been much
disappointed ; nothing of that kind appeared. The per-
sons tried were all men in low situations of life, and no
discovery of any importance came out on any of the trials.
Twelve men were tried, and only four were convicted.
One was acquitted because the meeting-house which he
had burned had not been properly registered, and there-
fore did not come within the Act of Parliament. Against
another the counsel who managed the prosecution declined
to call evidence on account of his youth ; and the other
six were acquitted, although the evidence against them
was so strong that no rational being could entertain the
smallest doubt of their guilt. Two of these six. Rice and
Whitehead, acted as the ringleaders of the rioters, and
Rice had been twice tried at Worcester and twice ac-
quitted, though his guilt was proved beyond all doubt.
If these two men had been convicted, it was hoped that
they might have made a discovery of their employers ;
and for this reason it is supposed that the gentlemen,
who have christened themselves the friends of Church

1 The following letter is taken from a copy in the handwriting of
Mr. Romilly.

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and King, were particularly anxious for their acquittal.
They were indeed anxious for the acquittal of all of them ;
and a private suhscription was made for the purpose of
affording the rioters all the legal assistance they could
have. Two counsel and an attorney were employed for
each of them, and three counsel appeared for the only
prisoner who could afford to retain counsel for himself;
for the friends of Church and King extended their gene-
rosity indiscriminately to all who had risked their lives
in so good a cause. The assistance, however, which their
counsel could afford the prisoners was inconsiderahle,
when compared with that which they derived from the
absurdity of the leading counsel for the crown, the very
extraordinary incapacity of the judge, and the most pro-
fligate partiality in the jury. The counsel for the crown
began, in opening, the first prosecution, by telling the
jury that the prisoner was to be considered as an object
of commiseration, and that he acted under a delusion and
a species of madness, and he represented his case as that
of a man who, though mistaken, was sincere in his opi-
nions ; and all this of a fellow who was a notorious thief,
and had been tried several times before at Warwick for
robberies. An opening so injudicious might induce any
one to think that government was not sincere in the pro-
secution, and that they wished merely the show of a trial,
which should end in an acquittal. That, however, cer-
tainly was not the case, and any one who has been often
a witness to the conduct of the leader of our circuit has a
much easier way to account for it ; as it is a very usual
thing for him to state a case as strongly as possible against
his own client, and to sacrifice the cause which he is en-
trusted with to what he thinks a stroke of wit or a display
of eloquence ; and this was the case at Warwick, where
his only object was to utter a nonsensical dissertation on
difference of opinion, and to paint the devastation done
at London in 1780, and at Birmingham a month ago, in
a style that would very well have suited the tragedy of
Tom Thumb. The judge, who has, and not undeservedly,
the character of being the very worst upon the bench,
who is totally ignorant of law, and who is incapable of

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Stating facts in a manner intelligible to the jury, summed
up several of the plainest cases for conviction in the only
way that could give the jury a pretence for acquittal. In
one case, after stating the facts as strongly as he could to
the jury, and telling them that they were proved by four
witnesses, the veracity of whom was entirely unimpeached,
who had no interest in the matter, and all of whom must
be perjured, and must intend wrongfully to take away
the life of their neighbour if he was innocent, he con-
cluded with telling them that, whichever way they found,
their verdict would be equally satisfactory to him. Two
of the men who destroyed Dr. Priestley's house were con-
victed ; and as the evidence against them was not at all
stronger than what was given against several of those who
were acquitted, it can be ascribed to nothing but to a
speech which was made by Mr. Coke, another of the
counsel for the crown, on opening the prosecution, in
which he represented to the jury the scandal which their
conduct in acquitting men accused of such offences, con-
trary to the plainest evidence, would bring ou themselves
and on the country. The jury, who, being most- of them
men of property in Birmingham, conceived themselves
to be gentlemen, and who thought they might give false
judgments and commit perjury without any reproach to
their reputation, but that to suffer themselves to be told
of what they had done without resenting it would bring
an indelible stain on their honour, immediately took fire
and complained to the judge; and afterwards one of
them told a friend of mine that he thought they were
bound, as gentlemen, to insist on Mr. Coke's making
them satisfaction, or fighting them one after another.
Mr. Burke's favourite spirit of chivalry, you see, is not
quite extinguished ; and when one finds so much of it
still prevailing among the noblesse of Birmingham, one
cannot be surprised that the doctrines of the National
Assembly are with them so unpopular. The rage which
prevails in Warwickshire against the Dissenters is not to
be conceived by any one who has not been there. There is
no story so incredible, no calumny so gross, as does not
meet with implicit credit and the most speedy propaga-

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tion among the friends of Church and King; and the
complete refutation of one calumny, instead of begetting
distrust of the truth of another, only procures it a more
easy reception. The appetite for defamation grows
stronger as it has missed the prey of which it thought
itself secure. I heard one of these zealots declaring his
utter detestation, not of Dissenters in general, hut of those
of Birmingham, founded, as he said, on the whole of their
conduct, which he declared to have been scandalous and
infamous beyond all example. These expressions were
so strong, and were uttered with so much vehemence, that
I thought I had now at last found the opportunity, which
I had so often wished for before in vain, of hearing some
specific charges which had been the pretext for the per-
secution ; and I ventured to ask the gentleman what were
the facts to which he alluded ; but I am afraid my ques-
tion, though certainly unintentionally, was expressed in
such a way as betrayed more doubt than curiosity ; for he
told me, with great impatience, that it was to no piurpose
to talk with a person so prejudiced as I was. The suf-
ferers by the riots, though several of them were in War-
wick, thought it decent not to appear in court, and indeed
they had no more business there than any other spectator;
but I heard it observed by a warm Churchman that not
one of the Dissenters had dared to show his face in court
during the trials. The prosecutions have all been con-
ducted entirely by the Solicitor of the Treasury ; and yet
I have heard many persons say that the Dissenters were
so malignant that they tried to get all the rioters hanged,
and that they would not be satisfied unless they could hang
half the town of Birmingham. The Dissenters had es-
tablished a Sunday-school at Warwick, and through mere
charity had sent thither some children of poor persons
who were of the Church of England. This diabolical con-
duct has produced several meetings of the Churchmen of
Warwick ; and, with a Rev. Mr. Daniel in the chair, they
have voted this conduct to be a dangerous attack upon the
rights of the Church, and have appointed a committee to
watch over and protect the Church from invasion. In a
word, the spirit that prevails against Dissenters now in

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1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 343

Warwickshire, and, I believe, in some of the adjoining
counties, is not unlike that which raged against the
Catholics in the time of the famous Popish plot. A gen-
tleman of good education, and who, on all other subjects,
is certainly a sensible man, told me, as a story .which he
had heard from good authority, and to which he gave
implicit credit, that, on the day after the revolutionary
dinner, a hamper was brought to the hotel, and left there
without direction ; that, on being opened, it was found
to be full of daggers, and that it has never since been sent
for, and no one knows by whom it was brought.

At the time of the riots a common cry among the mob
was, "No philosophers — Church and King for ever I" and
some persons painted up on their houses, " No philoso-
phers I"

Two of the men who were convicted have been par-
doned ; one of them very soon after the trial, and without
any application being made for him by the people of
Birmingham. His pardon was a matter of great surprise
to the Birmingham people, as he was a man of very bad
character. It is said he has a brother at Windsor, who is
in a mean way of life, but witli whom the King has some-
times entered into conversation in his walks.

Dr. Parr is almost as unpopular at Birmingham as Dr.
Priestley. The reason alleged for his unpopularity is, that,
in a sermon which he lately preached in the town, he men-
tioned Dr. Priestley by name, spoke in praise of him, and re-
commended some of his sermons. Perhaps a more probable
cause of his loss of popularity is, that he has had private
quarrels with the heads of the Church-and-King faction.
But, whatever be the cause of it, the fact is certain that
he has the honour to be involved in the persecution of
the Dissenters ; and, himself an intolerant high church-
man, he wonders to find himself an object of enmity to an
intolerant high-church mob.

nie fugit, per que f aerat loca seepe secutus :
Heu famulos fugit ipse Suos! clamare libebat,
Actffion ego sum ! dominum cognoscite vestrum.

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Letter LXXXVI.

FROM MADAME G

Paris, 1791.

Nous avons revu avec int^ret M. Smith, puisqu'il
nous a donn6 de vos nouvelles avec detail, mais nous
sommes extrSmement faches d'avoir aussi peu profit^ de
son s6jour. II parott partir avec une assez triste opinion
de notre Assembl^e Legislative ; ^ il est sur qu'elle a bien
perdu son temps depuis qu'elle est assembl^e, et que du
Isruit, du tumulte, des d^nonciations, puis du tumulte et
du bruit, sont les seuls r^sultats de ses stances. Les
tetes exalt^es, jusqu'a pr6sent, y ont eu une grande in-
fluence. Le d^sir general de la nation actuellement est
pourtant celui de la paix et du repos. Toutes les classes
de la societe sentent que les temps de revolution ne sont
favorables ni aux aifaires ni aux plaisirs; et depuis
ceux qui ont besoin de gagner leur vie, jusqu'd ceux qui
ne veulent la passer qu'd jouir, tons souhaitent 6galement
Taifermissement de Tordre. Mais 11 y a quelques obstacles
qui s'opposent a Taccomplissement de ce voeu general, et

Letteb LXXXVI.

Paris, 1791.
We had much pleasure in seeing Mr. Smith again, for he gave
us many particulars about you; but we are very sorry to have
enjoyed so little of his society during his stay here. He appears to
leave us with but a poor opinion of our Legislative Assembly ; ^ and,
certainly, from the first day of their meeting, they have only been
wasting their time. Noise, and tumult, and recrimination, and then
tumult and noise again, are the only results of their sittings.
Hitherto the enthusiasts have had great influence among tfaeoo,
although the general wish of the nation now is for peace and quiet.
All classes of society feel that times of revolution are not favourable
either to business or pleasure ; and from those who have their liveli-
hood to gain to those who live (^ly to enjoy themselves, all axe
equally desirous for the establishment of order ; but however general

^ It had commenced its sittings on the Ist of October, 1791.

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nous serons encore assez longtemps obliges de les com-
battxe. Les Emigrations sont dans ce moment plus nom-
breuses que jamais ; on dit mSme qu'elles gagnent d'autres
classes que celle de Tancienne noblesse. II est tr^-difficile
de deviner les motifs qui peuvent engager at cette triste
resolution, car les puissances Etrangdres paroissent assez
peu disposes k venir nous attaquer, et nous nous bergons
beaucoup de Tid^e que nous n'avons rien d en craindre.
On commence d s effirayer de cette emigration, et Ton
pense qu'il seroit prudent de prendre quelque mesure
pour TarrSter. Cette idee fait des progr^s dans TAssembl^e ;
je crois pourtant que ce seroit une sottise, et que les gens
qu'on retiendroit par force seront toiijours de dangereux
et mauvais enfans pour leur patrie.

Mon mari a re9U de votre part. Monsieur, un livre
interessanc, et qui a ete lu ici avec avidity par quelques
personnes, II est flatteur pour nous de voir notre con-
stitution defend ue par des etrangers. Nous ne pouvons
cependant nous dissimuler qu'elle s*est assez ressentie de
notre caractdre Fran9ois, facilement exalte et pr^somp-
tueux. Nous avons voulu n'imiter personne, et nous
n'avons point profit^ des le9ons que nous oifroieut I'expfe-
rience des autres nations. Si nous nous d^terminons au

the wish, there are several obstacles to its accomplishment, against
which we shall still have to struggle for a long time. Emigration
is at this moment more frequent than ever ; and it is even said that
it is spreading to other classes besides that of the old nobleue. It is
very difficult to conceive the motives for so sad a determination ; for
foreign powers seem little disposed to attack us, and we even buoy
ourselves up with the belief that we have nothing to fear from them.
People are beginning to be alarmed at this emigration, and to think
that it would be prudent to take some steps to put a stop to it.
This notion gains ground in the Assembly ; but I think that it would
be an act of folly, for those who are retained in a country by force
will always be dangerous and bad citizens.

My husband has received an interesting book from you, which
has been read here by some with avidity. It is flattering to us to
see our constitution defended by foreigners ; but we cannot, at the
same time, conceal from ourselves that it has a tinge of the French \
character, which so easily gives way to extravagance and presumption.
We were determined not to imitate ; we have, therefore, not profited
by the lessons which the history of other nations supplied us with.

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346 OORRESPOKDENCE WITH Dec.

moins k nous ]ais8er eclairer par notre propre experience,
et k reconnottre sans partialite lea defauts de notre gou-
vemement qui nous blesseront, ce sera dejd beaucoup, et
nous serous alors assez avances.

Nous avons une petite GWe qui a un an accompli, qui
commence d marcher et d begayer quelques mots : dans
quelque temps nous lui verrons former des idees. Nous
tdcherons d'etre raisonnables, de suivre les conseils de
notre Emile, et de ne pas gdter cette plante confine d nos
soins.

Nous avons du regret de n'avoir ni livres nouveaux ni
brochures interessantes d remettre d M. Smith. Nous
n*avons d vous envoyer que les assurances bien sinc^resde
notre inviolable attachement.

Lbttee LXXXVII.

TO MADAME G-

Madam Lincoln's Inn, Dec. 6, 1791 •

Indeed your letters do not need to be scarce to make
them valuable. As for mine, I wonder you have the
patience to read them. I write from a country which fur-
nishes no event worth communicating to you. About
myself I have nothing to write ; my life passes without
any incidents in it, and one day of it exactly resembles
the former. I have been passing the whole of the last
summer in town, seeing nobody but my brother's family,
(for, indeed, at that season, there is nobody here to see,)
and scarcely stirring out of my room but to go to his

If we resolve at least to submit to be guided by our own experience,
and impartially acknowledge those faults of our own government
which may be injurious to us, it will be a great point gained : we
shall then have made some progress.

Our little girl, who is just a year old, begins to walk and to lisp
a few words ; in a littie time we shall see her forming ideas. We
shall endeavour to act with sense, to follow the advice of our Emile,
and not to spoil this tender plant entrusted to our care.

We are sorry to have no new books or interesting pamphlets to
send you by Mr. Smith. We can only send you the sincerest
expression of our unalterable attachment.

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1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 34'y

house, or to take exercise. You may judge that such a
life does not afford any adventures to relate. The most
important transaction that has taken place in it for a long
time, and one which, for a very powerful reason, I ought
to communicate to you, is, that I have changed my
chambers, and that your future letters are not to be ad-
dressed to Gray's Inn, but to Lincoln* s Inn^ No. 2, Netp
Square. I have changed much for the better as a situation
for business, but much for the worse as far as my own
pleasure is concerned. Instead of having a very pleasant
garden under my windows, I have nothing but houses
before me, and I can't look any way without seeing bar-
risters or attorneys. This is another sacrifice which I
have made to a profession which nothing but inevitable
necessity forces me to submit to, which I every day feel
more and more that I am unfit for, and which I dislike
the more the more I meet with success in it.

We do not think at all more highly of the present Na-
tional Assembly here than you seem to do at Paris. Nothing
could be more mischievous than the decree by which the
last Assembly disqualified themselves. If any one wished
to bring popular elections into discredit, he could not do
it more effectually than by letting the people elect their
representatives, but forbidding them to elect those in whom
they had most confidence, and of whose talents and vir-
tues they had had experience. It is certain that hitherto
very little ability has been shown in the Assembly, either
collectively or by any of its members ; but I have no doubt
that they will improve, and that much good may be ex-
pected from them. I remember having heard Mr. Fox say
that a parliament was so good a thing, however ill it might
be constituted, that, if it were to consist of the first five hun-
dred men who should be met passing in a certain street at a
certain hour, it would be better than to have none. I believe
it better to be governed by a very bad National Assembly
than by a very good king. I cannot but persuade myself that
there are men of great talents in the Assembly who have
not yet spoken. It was natural to suppose that the most
superficial men would be the most in haste to speak. Men
who are conscious of their own superiority are not so im-

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patient to discover it ; they wait for some occasion worthy
of them, and willingly forego a little reputation, which
they are sure of reaping at some time or other in the
greatest ahundance.

I have heen exceedingly shocked at the insurrection at
St. Domingo. It was natural to expect that it would he
imputed to those who have exerted themselves in Europe
on hehalf of the negroes, because, if a bad cause be not
defended by falsehood and calumny, it must remain with-
out defence. The planters have, ever since it was first
proposed to abolish the slave-trade, that is, for above five
years, predicted insurrections in the islands. Like the
prophecies of Henry ^ IV.'s death, it was impossible that
they should not at last be right. It is observable, how-
ever, that there has been no insurrection in any British
island, in which alone it has ever been proposed to abolish
the slave-trade ; and that, as there never has been any long
period, since the present barbarous system was first esta-
blished, without insurrections in some of the islands, there
is no more reason to ascribe the insurrection at St. Do-
mingo to the generous exertions of the friends of the
negroes, than to the taking of Ismael, or to any other
event that has happened in Europe. The true cause of
this, as well as of all the former insurrections, is the cruelty
of the planters ; and one cannot but feel the warmest in-
dignation when one hears men imputing that mischief,
which is caused by their own crimes, to the virtues of
those who resist them.

I remain, &c.

Saml. Romilly.

1 Of France.

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May. 1792. M. DUMONT, ETa 349

1792—1794. ' >

Letter LXXXVIII.

TO MADAME G .

Madam, lanooln's Inn, May 15, 1792.

I could willingly persuade myself that I am ill,

merely that I might take the remedy which Mr. G

recommends, and make a visit this summer to Paris. By
much the strongest temptation I could have to adopt his
prescription would be, to have the pleasure of seeing you
both, and your excellent family. Indeed, I see little else
to tempt me at Paris ; and I have not the smallest wish
to be present at the debates of your Assembly; to read
them is more than sufficient. My opinion, however, is
not in the least altered with respect to your revolution.
Even the conduct of the present Assembly has not been
able to shake my conviction that it is the most glorious
event, and the happiest for mankind, that has ever taken
place since human aflTairs have been recorded ; and though
I lament sincerely the miseries which have happened,
and which still are to happen, I console myself with
thinking that the evils of the revolution are transitory,
and all the good of it is permanent.
You have heard, I suppose, what has passed here on

the subject of the slave-trade since Mr. G wrote;

that the House of Commons came to a resolution that the
trade should be abolished on the 1st of January, 1796,
and carried that resolution up to the House of Lords ;
and that the Lords have determined to examine witnesses
upon the subject, which must take up so much time that
there is little prospect of any Bill passing in the present
session. This, however, will be no great misfortune;
and, strange as it may appear, will probably accelerate the
abolition. It is very likely that the House of Commons
will, in the next session, pass a Bill for an immediate
abolition ; and, though the Lords may at first reject it,
they will hardly venture to do so a second time, and they

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will certainly have a second Bill sent to them. However
sincere the Lords are in their zeal for slavery, they will
hardly carry their sincerity so far as to endanger their
own authority ; and the cause of the negro slaves is at
present taken up with as much warmth in almost every
part of the kingdom as could be found in any matter in
which the people were personally and immediately in-
terested. Innumerable petitions for the abolition have
been presented to parliament, and (what proves men*s
zeal more strongly than petitions) great numbers have
entirely discontinued the use of sugar. All persons, and
even the West India planters and merchants, seem to
i^ree that it is impossible the trade should last many
years longer.

"We are likely too to get rid of another evil, the mis-
chievous effects of which are felt every day among oiu*-
selves— that of lotteries. There has been a debate on the
subject in the House of Commons, and it seems under-
stood that, after the present year, there are to be no more
lotteries. In these two instances the Parliament has fol-
lowed the opinion of the public, though it must be owned
that it has been the speeches of members of the Parliament
which has greatly contributed to form the public opinion.
I remain, &c.

Saml. Rohilly.

Lettbr LXXXIX.

TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, Lincoln's Inn, Sept 10, 1792.

I hoped by this time to have been at Bowood, but
several things have happened unexpectedly to prevent
me ; one of the principal has been the arrival here of the

eldest of the young D s. His whole family, you know,

are accused of being aristocrats, though their only ortV-
tocratism consists in wishing to defend a constitution
which all France has sworn to maintain. He was him-
self particularly obnoxious, for he was in the castle on
the 10th of August, commanding a battalion of the Na-
tional Guard. He has accordingly been denounced by
the Jacobins, and he got away with great difficulty, and

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1/92. M. DUMONT, ETC 35 j

without any passport He has come, as might he sup-
posed, without letters, and has scarce any acquaintance
here. I have been endeavouring to be as useful to him
as I could. You know how much I am, and how much
reason I have to be, attached to his family. I had not
seen much of him till now ; but I find him very sensible,
well informed, and amiable.

I observe that, in your letter, you say nothing about
France, and I wish I could do so too, and forget the
affairs of that wretched country altogether ; but that is so
impossible, that I can scarcely think of anything else.
How could we ever be so deceived in the character of the
French nation as to think them capable of liberty?
wretches who, after all their professions and boasts about
liberty, and patriotism, and courage, and dying, and after
taking oath after oath, at the very moment when their
country is invaded and an enemy is marching through it
unresisted, employ whole days in murdering women, and
priests, and prisoners I^ Others, who can deliberately
load whole waggons full of victims, and bring them like
beasts to be butchered in the metropolis ; and then (who
are worse even than these) the cold instigators of these
murders, who, while blood is streaming round them on
every side, permit this carnage to go on, and reason about
it, and defend it, nay, even applaud it, and talk about the
example they are setting to all nations. One might as
well think of establishing a republic of tigers in some
forest of Africa as of maintaining a free government
among such monsters.

My plan, at present, if nothing should happen to de-
range it, is to be with you in the middle of the next week,
and to go from Bowood to Warwick to the sessions, where
I must be at the beginning of October. I have seen the
Duke de Liancourt twice, and am to dine with him to-day
at Bentham's : I like him extremely.

Yours, &c.

S.R.

^ The massacres at Paris took place on the 2nd^ 3rd, and 4th of
September.

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352 OORBSSFONDENCE WITH Sept.

Letter XC.

FROM M. DUMONT.

Bowood. Sept. 11, 1792.

Je vous re ponds tout de suite, mon cher Romilly,
pour vous prier d'ecarter autant qu'il vous sera possible
tous les obstacles, et de venir a Bowood au temps marqufe,
ou plutdt.

Vous deviez etre k diner chez Bentham quand on a
appris k M. de Liancourt la mort horrible de M. de la
Rochefoucauld. Nons avons cherche k croire que c'^toit
le Cai'dinal, et non pas ]e Due ; quoique ces b^tes f^roces
n'aient pas plus de droit k tuer.Pun que Tautre : cepen-
dant les vertus, les services, le patriotisme du dernier,
aggraveroient bien Thorreur de ce massacre.

Je me promene la moiti^ du jour dans une agitation ex-
treme, et par Timpossibilite de rester en place, en pen-
sant a tous les Svenemens malheureux qui d^coulent d'une
source d'oii nous nous sommes flatt6s de voir sortir le
bonheur du genre humain. Brulons tous les livres, ces-
sons de penser et de rSver au meilleur systeme de legis-
lation, puisque les liommes font un abus infernal de
toutes les verit6s et de tous les principes. Qui croiroit

Letter XC.

Bowood, Sept. II, 1792.
I answer your letter at once, my dear Romilly, to beg that
you will do what you possibly can to remove all impediments, and
come to Bowood at the appointed time, or sooner.

You must have been dining at Bentham's when M. de Liancourt
received the news of the horrible death of M. de la Rochefoucauld.
We tried to persuade ourselves that it was the Cardinal, and not the
Duke; for, although those wild beasts had no more right to kill the
one than the other, yet the virtues, the services, the* patriotism of the
latter would add much to the horror of this butchery. I walk about
half the day in a state of the greatest agitation, from the impossibility
of remaining still, with my thoughts fixed upon all the sad events
which are flowing from a source whence we had flattered ourselves
human happiness was to arise. Let us bum all our books, let us
cease to thmk and dream of the best system of legislation, since men
make so diabolical a use of every truth and every principle.

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1792. M. DUMONT.ETC. 353

qu'avec de si belles roaximes on pQt se livrer k de tels
exc^s, et que la constitution, la plus extravagante en fait
de liberty, parottroit k ces sauvages le code de la tyrannic ?
Le pass6 est afPreux, mais ce qu*il y a de plus affireux en-
core, c'est qu'on ne pent rien attendre, rien esplrer, pour
I'avenir. Nous ne verrons que d^chiremens et massacres.
A moins que la France ne se divise en un grand nombre
d'6tats ind6pendans, il est impossible de se former une
id6e du rdtablissement de Tordre.

Je cherche pourtant k balancer ces id6es par d'autres :
je sens bien que ]e peuple est jet6 dans cet 6tat de fidvre
par I'approche des ennsmis ; je me rappelle Tetat de colore
et de douleur fr^n^tique oil j'ai ^t6 moi-meme quand j'ai
vu trois armees environner Geneve pour nous soumettre k
un gouvernement odieux: Je comprends que, dans une
grande ville comme Paris, oCl tant de passions fermentent,
elles ont dii s'exalter jusqu'^ la fureur centre les aristo-
crates, qui ont attir6 ces fl^aux d'Autriche et de Prusse
sur leur patrie ; et comme la declaration sanguinaire de
I'Attila Prussien a menac6 detoutmettre k feu et sL sang,

Who would believe that with such noble maxims it would he
possible for men to give themselves over to such excesses, and that a
constitution, the most extravagant in point of freedom, should appear
to these savages the code of tyranny 9 The past is hideous ; but what
is still more frightful is, that there is nothing to expect, nothing to
hope, from the future. We shall see nothing but destruction and
massacre. Unless France should separate into a great number of
independent states, it is impossible to form an idea in what way
order is to be re-established.

I endeavour, however, to find some counterpoise for these thoughts.
I know that it is the approach of a hostile army which has thrown
the people into this fever : I have not forgotten the rage and frantic
grief wnich I myself endured when I saw Geneva surrounded by
three armies, united to enforce our submission to a government we
detested. I can conceive that, in a great city like Paris, where so
many passions are in constant ferment, they must have risen to a
pitch of madness against the aristocrats, who have drawn down upon
their country the scourges of Austria and Prussia; and that, when
the people found that the sanguinary manifesto of the Prussian
Attim^ threatened to destroy all with fire and sword, that those who

^ The manifesto of the Duke of Brunswick, who was afterwards
mortally wounded at the battle of Jena in 1806.

VOL.1. 2Ji

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^p^4 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Sept

de faire p^rir dans les flammes ceux qui auroient ^chapp^
an fer, ils se seront dit k eux-mSmes qu'avant de p^rir il
falloit 6ter aux conspirateurs la joie du triomphe. Dans
le dernier acc^s ils ont ^gorg6 les prisonniers, parce qu'il
s'est r^pandu un bruit qu'i Tapproche du Due de Bruns-
wick les prisons seroient ouvertes, et que tons les prison-
niers acheteroient leur grace en servant leur Roi, et en
se tournant centre les patriotes.

Je re9ois unelettre de Paris de Thomme le plus douxet
le plus humain que je connoisse, et il paroit croire que
tout ce qui est arriv§ est n^cessaire, que c'est le denoue-
ment d'une conspiration, et que, sanscela, Paris 6toit cer-
taineroent livr6 aux' troupes 6trang^res. C'est M . Cabanis^
qui m*6crit ainsi. II n'a nul int^rSt dans la revolution ; il
est dgar6 par Tesprit de parti : mais quand Tesprit de parti
6gare les hommes bons et 6clair6s, il faut bien qu'il ai
quelque couleur sp^cieuse. On n'a aucun doute des tra-
hisons de la Cour. Beaucoup de Feuillants qui croyoient
Bervir la constitution sent revenus k TAssembl^e, et sont
les plus indignfis contre le Roi, parcequ'ils ont eteles

should escape the one might perish by the other, so they may have
said to themselves, " Before we die, at least let us snatch from the
conspirators the joy of their triumph/* In their last paroxysm they
murdered the prisoners, because a report had been spread that, at
the approach of the Duke of BrunswicK, the prisons would be thrown
open, and that the prisoners would purchase their pardon by serving
their king, and turning against the patriots.

I have just received a letter from Paris, written by the mildest,
the most humane man I am acquainted with, and he seems to think
that all that has taken place was necessary; that it was the sabvei^
sion of a conspiracy, and that without it Paris would undoubtedly
have been given up to foreign troops. It is M. Cabanis^ who writes
to me thus. He tias no interest m the success of the revolution ;
he is misled by party-spirit ; but when party-spirit misleads good
and enlightened men, it must surely have assumed some specious
form. No doubt is entertained of the treachery of the Court
Many Feuillants, who hoped to do service to the constitution, have
returned to the Assembly, and are the more indignant against the

^ The author of Rapports du Physique et du Moral de fHomme^
and several other works. He was Mirabeau's physician in hia last
illness and published an account of that illness.

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1792. M.DUMONT, ETC. 355

dupes d'un parti qui s'^toit servi, pour les tromper, de
leur bonne foi mime. Voili comme on parle. Mille
choses de ma part k nos amis communs.

Adieu I tout i vous, &c.

Et. D.

Letter XCI.
TO M. DUMONT.

Dear Dumont, Sept. 16, 1792.

I am exceedingly obliged to Lord Lansdowne for his

invitation of my friend D . I have mentioned it to

him, and he begs you would return Lord Lansdowne a
great many thanks for his goodness. He seems, however,
afraid of going so far from London, and of receiving news
from his relations at this alarming time twenty-four hours
later than he would if he stayed here. But still, if I can
persuade him to go, I shall ; for solitude in his situation,
with a thousand ideal dangers continually present to his
mind, is terrible.

You know undoubtedly that it is the Duke de la Roche-
foucauld who has been murdered. His own tenants, it is
said, were among his assassins. The Cardinal had been
murdered before at the Carmes ; and M. Chabot Rohan,
the brother of Mad«. de la Rochefoucauld, and the grand-
son of Mad«. d' Anville, was among those who were killed
at the Abbaye. He was a very young man : perhaps you
do not recoUect him, but we dined with him at the Duke
de la R.'s, in '88. There seems to be no doubt that all
these assassinations were planned and directed by the
persons who have now the power in their hands. Manuel
sent an order to the Abbaye to release M. de Jaucourt on
the morning of the massacre, but before there was any
talk among the mob of attacking any of the prisons.

King, inasmuch as they have been flie dupes of a party who have
made their very honesty an instrament in deceiving them. This is
what is said.

A thousand kind messages to our common friends. Adieu.

Yours, &c.
Et. D.

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356 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Sept.

I don't think the ohservations you make afiEbrd the small-
est extenuation of the guilt of the murderers. Observe that,
at the time of these massacres, though the Duke of Bruns-
wick was marching towards Paris, yet all the Parisians,
with their stupid confidence, were very sure he could
never reach the capital; and that the fury of these
wretches has been directed, not against aristocrats, who
would triumph at the Duke of Brunswick's victories, but
against the persons who have, during the revolution,
always acted the most conspicuous part on the side of the
people, and who would be proscribed, and their estates
confiscated, if the revolution should be overturned. It is
impossible to walk a hundred yards in any public street
here in the middle of the day without meeting two or
three French priests. Who would have conceived that,
at the close of the eighteenth century, we should see, in
the most civilized country in Europe, all the horrors of
political proscriptions and religious persecution united ?

I hope to be with you by the middle of next week.

Yours sincerely,

S.R.

Letter XCII.

FROM M.DUMONT.

Bowood, Sept. 16, 1792.

T^chez d'amener M. D ; nous avons les lettresle

matin a 9 heures, il n'y a que douze heures de diflGSrence
pour la plupart.

Le meurtre du Due de la Rochefoucauld n'est que trop
vrai. Garat en parle avec un sang-froid atroce : " M. de
la Rochefoucauld, qui se laissoit toujours appeler Due, a
&i6 tue." II y a dix k douze hommes, plus noirs que

Letter XCIL

Bowood, Sept 16, 1792.

Try to bring M. D with you. We get our lettexs at

nine in the morning, generally, not more than twelve hours later
than in London.

The murder of the Duke de la Rochefoucauld is hut too true.
Garat speaks of it with a cold-blooded indiflference, which is atrocious.
" M. de la Rochefoucauld," he says, " who always permitted himself
to be styled Duke, has been killed." There are some ten or twelve

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1792. M. DUMONT, ETC. 35*^

to US les assassins de la terre, qui seront la cause que
TEurope entidre devient insensible au sort des Frangois,
et les verra passer avec plaisir sous le joug.

Je ne sais si Thistoire de Manuel est vraie. Je sais seule-
ment que I'AssembMe Nationale est atrocement coupable
de tous les meurtres qui se feront encore, en n'ayant pas
imm^diatement aboli le d6cret sur les passeports. Fermer
les portes d*un empire, ou le peuple furieux massacre
sur un soup9on tous ceux qui ne pensent pas comme lui,
c'est Itre responsable de tous les assassinats qui se com-
mettent.

Je ne veux pas ext^nuer des horreurs qui font chanceler
tous mes principes, mais je cherche a voir ce qui est ;
c'est que, si les peuples sont f^roces, les despotes ne le
sont pas moins. Comptez les personnes qui ont 6t6 en
Pologne les victimes d'une seule femme.\ Pensez que cette
seule femme, sans provocation, sans cause quelconque,
pent s'attribuer a elle seule la mort de deux millions
d'liommes. Pensez k Louis XIV., et vous conviendrez
peut-Stre qu'on peut d6sirer encore le succ^s des armes
Frangoises, la destruction des Prussiens et des Autrichiens,
sans offenser Thumanit^. Si les Fran9ois sont battus, je

men, blacker thim all the assassins of the earth, who will be the
cause that all Europe will become careless as to the fate of the
French people, and will look on with satisfaction while they pass
under the yoke.

I do not know whether the story of Manuel is true. I only know
this, that the National Assembly is atrociously guilty of all the
murders which may yet be committed, in not haying immediately
repealed the decree on passports. To shut the gates of a kingdom,
in which a frantic people butcher on bare suspicion all those who do
not think as they do, is to be responsible for all the murders that are

I do not attempt to palliate horrors which shake all my principles,
but I endeavour to see things as they are; and I know that, if the
people are ferocious, despots are no less so. Reckon the number of
persons who, in Poland, have been the victims of a single woman. ^
Only reflect that this one woman, without provocation, without any
cause whatever, may lay claim to the deaths of two millions of
human beings. Think of Louis XIV., and you will perhaps admit
that one may still wish for the success of the French arms, and for

^ Catherine II. of Russia.

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358 CORKESPONDENCE WITH Oct.

mer^signerai i r6v6nement plus aisementquejen'aurois
fait sans les horreurs commises. Mais je ne puis m'emp6-
cher de fr^mir centre cette ligue, qui nesauroitetre justi-
fi^e dans son principe, puisque les crimes les plus noirs du
peuple Fran9oi8 sont post6rieurs k cette ligue, et princi-
palement occasionn^s par elle.

Nous vous attendons avec impatience.- Adieu.

Et. D.

Letter XCIII.

FROM LORD LANSDOWNB.

Dear Mr. Romilly , Bowood Park, Oct. 8. 1792.

I only wish you to like Bowood half as well as Bowood
likes you.

As to the Warwickshire country gentleman, I am only
afraid that he is the same with those of every other county
in England. I thank God, the King has nobody about
him cunning and wicked enough to advise him to meet
the desire of reform, and compose a parliament of quali-
fied men. I mean in the solid legal sense, for I verily
believe a more corrupt, ignorant, and tyrannical assembly
would not be to be found upon the face of the earth, espe-
cially with a little scattering of a certain profession, which
I will not presume to name, but which the King has found
too useful to consent to any reform which went to exclude
them.

I pity the French very sincerely, particularly the clergy ;
but, after all, those who have any elevation of mind cannot
be considered in such a desperate situation. I have always
doubted whether an ambitious man, whose object is fame.

the destruction of the Prussians and Austrians, without offence to
humanity. If the French should be beaten, I shall make up my
mind to the event more easily than I 8hoi;dd have done if these
horrible scenes had never been acted. But I cannot help shudder-
ing at this league, the principle of which it is impossible to justify,
inasmuch as the blackest of the crimes of the FVench people were
subsequent to it, and for the most part occasioned by it

We expect you impatiently. Adieu. Ex. D.

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1792. M. DUMONT, ETC. 359

gained most by being persecuted or favoured through life.
So far as kings are concerned, I am sure they gain most
by being persecuted ; and people resemble kings so much
that I believe it makes no great difference, except that the
people are sure to open their eyes sooner or later, and
where they have been guilty of injustice to repay with
ample interest either the dead or the living. The clergy
have no families ; the harshness under which they suffer
gives a dignity to their deportment, if they know how to
assume it, and certainly no small degree of interest. I am
sure there is^'not a priest of them all who will be half so
miserable as the Duke of Brunswick, if he continues to
have the worst of the campaign ; but the clock strikes six,
and I am not dressed, and you know the government under
which I live, so that I hope you will excuse my bidding
you adieu so very abruptly.

Ever yours,

Lansdowne.

Letter XCIV.

FROM MADAME G .

Passy, 9 Decembre, 1792.

II y a bien longtemps. Monsieur, que nous sommes
priv^s de vos lettres ; c'est bien notre faute; mais j'espere
que vous n'aurez pas un seul instant accuse notre amiti6,
et plutSt les circonstances qui ont ^t6 si extraordinaires
qu'elles laissoient peu de presence d'esprit.

Nous sommes bien surs que vous avez suivi, avec un
int^rSt souvent mel6 d'horreur, tons les ^v6nemens qui se
sont accumules dans cette memorable 6poque. Nous

Letter XCIV.

Passy, December 9, 1792.
We have been for a long time, Sir, without letters from you ;
the fault is certainly our own, but I trust that you will not for one
moment have attributed our silence to want of ^iendship, but rather
to circumstances which have been so extraordinary as to leave but
little time for thought.

We feel sure that you have followed up, with interest often mixed
with horror, all the events which have crowded one upon another

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Bommes toujours dans un chaos effrayant, et il ne reste pas
le plus 16ger rayon d'espoir de voir bientot renaitre un ordre
de choses calme et paisible : tous les 616mens revolution-
naires sont si bien rdunis, et r^pandus avec tant de profu-
sion dans toute P^tendue de la Ripublique ; nous sommes si
savans et si habiles en conjuration, qu*il est pen probable que
de semblables talens ne cherchent pas k faire naitre et du-
rer toutes les circonstances qui leur seront favorables pour
briller. Nous sommes done destines aux agitations de
tout genre pour un temps illimitfi, et nous regrettODS
d'avoir une disposition d'esprit qui est entidrement con-
traire k cette maniSre d'Stre. Nous touchons dans ce
moment ^une catastrophe^ horrible, qui laissera sur le nom
Fran9ois une tacho ind61^bile, et qtd aura des suites plus
funeates qu'on ne pent le pr^voir. On apporte dansce
proems une partialit6, une injustice, qui ajoute encore k
ratrocit6 du forfait,et qui produit une indignation sourde,
mais que la peur emplche de laisser percer ; car il y a
parmi les soi-disant honnStes gens de la Convention une
l&chet6, qui ^gale la f6rocit6 barbare de Tautre parti. Ces
circonstances affectent profond^ment, quelque effort qu'on
fasse pour s'en distraire ou s'en d^sinteresser.

during this memorable epoch. We are still in a state of disorder
the most fearful ; and not the slightest ray of hope remains of seeing
any speedy 'return to a state of peace and tranquillity. All the
elements of revolution are so well combined, and are spread with such
profusion over the whole surface of the Republic, we are so learned
and skilful in conspiracies, that it is little probable that such talents
ajB these should cease to encourage and keep alive everything which
may favour their display. We are therefore doomed for an
unlimited time to agitation of every kind ; and it is become matter
of regret that the character of our minds should be wholly opposed
to this kind of life. We are now on the eve of a horrible cata-
strophe,^ which will leave an indelible stain on the French name^
and which will have more fatal consequences than it is possible to
foresee. This trial is being conducted with a degree of partiality,
' of injustice, which, if possible, adds to the atrocity of the crime,
and produces a silent indignation, which*f|M||^revents from break-
ing out ; for there is, amongst the self-called honest members of the
Convention, a degree of cowardice which equals the savage ferocity
of the other side. One cannot but be deeply affected at all this,
however much one may strive to divert one's thoughts ftom the
subject, or to divest oneself of all personal interest in it

1 The trial of Louis XVI.

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1792. . M. DUMONT, ETC. 361-

Nous sommes aussi tres-affecl6s des nouvelles qu'on
exag^re, sans doute, de ce qui se passe en Angleterre.
C'etoit la que nous allions nous r6fugier en imagination,
quand nous voulions trouver une liberty sage, et accom-
pagn6e du respect pour les lois. Nous nous flattons ce-
pendant que notre exemple vous sera utile, que vous saurez
arrSter I'incendie k temps, et en mod6rer les effets. Nos
voeux pour le bonheur de ce beau pays sont bien sinc^res,
et votre opinion sur ce qui s'y passe nous seroit tres-pr6-
cieuse. Tout en g6missant sur lesmalheurs de Thumanit^,
nous jouissons cependant de tout le bonheur particulier
qui nous est laisse. Comme il y a plusieurs sortes d'in-
conv^niens k passer Thiver a Paris, nous sommes tous en
famille r^unis k ce Passy oii nous avons eu le plaisir de
vous voir, et nous y savourons tous les genres de jouis-
sances domestiques.

Nous trouvons qu'en g^n6ral le commerce des hommes
ne donne que des chagrins et du dlgodt pour la pauvre
humanity, et nous voudrions beaucoup nous en detacher,
pour le remplacer par des Etudes et des occupations qui
ne laissent apres elles aucun genre d'amertume. Vous
comprendrez, j*esp^re. Monsieur, que ce qui cause notre
misantropie nous rend encore plus chers et precieux les

The accounts, too, of what is passing in England, although no
doubt exaggerated, give us great pain. It was the land of refuge
for our imagination when we sought for an example of well-regulated
liberty, combined with respect for the law. We trust, at least, that
Qur example will not be thrown away upon you, and that you will
know before it be too late how to arrest and moderate the flame of
popular enthusiasm. Our wishes for the welfare of your noble
country are very sincere, and your opinion of what is passing there
would be highly valued by us. While mourning over the suft'er-
ings of human nature, we yet enjoy that domestic happiness which
still remains to us. As a winter at Paris would be attended with
many inconveniences, we are all imited in our family circle at that
Passy where we had the pleasure of seeing you, and here we taste
with the same relish as ever all the various pleasures of domestic
Ufe.

We find tbat the intercourse of the world produces for the most
part only sorrow and disgust for wretched humanity ; and we would
willingly keep aloof from it and replace it by studies and occupa-
tions which leave no bitterness behind them. You will, I trust,
understand that what makes us misanthropical renders still dearer

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352 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Mani,

liens de ramitie ; les sentimens que nous avons pour vous
sont du nombre de ceux qui consolent de voir les hommes
se degrader par tons les excds que dictent les passions,
parcequ'on sent qu'il y a des compensations. Nous vous
prions de ne pas oublier que tout ce qui vous touche nous
iut^resse particulidrement, et nous vous demandons de
nous prouver que vous en Stes persuade, en entrant avec
nous dans quelque detail sur ce qui vous concerne.

Je suis oblig6e de fermer pr^cipitamment cette lettre.
Agr6ez toutes les assurances de notre amiti§.

Letter XCV.

FROM MADAME G .

Paris 13, Man. 1793.

Nous ne pouvons pas, Monsieur, laisser partir M.
Dumont sans lui remettre quelques lignes, qui vous don-
neut de nouvelles assurances de notre amiti^ et de notre
souvenir.

Quoique les sensations individuelles soient bien se-
condaires aupres des grands int6r@ts qui agitent dans ces
temps-ci, nous n'avons puvoir sans chagrin rinterruption,
ou plut6t les difficult^s, de communication que la guerre

and more precious to us the ties of friendship ; the sentiments we
entertain towards you are among those which console us when we
see men degrading themselves by the commission of every excess
which is prompted by their passions, because we feel that there are
compensations. Pray do not forget that there is nothing which
affects you in which we do not take a lively interest ; and we beg
you to prove to us that you do not doubt it, by giving us a particular
account of whatever concerns you.

I am obliged to conclude my letter in haste. Believe ever in our
friendship.

Letter XCV.

Paris, March 13, 1793.

We cannot allow M. Dumont to set off without making
him the bearer of a few lines, to assure you that we have the same
friendship for you, and that you are as often in our thoughts, as
ever. Although all private feelings are of secondary importance,
compared with the mighty interests which now agitate men's minds,
it has been impossible for us to observe without pain the interrup-
tion, or rather the difficulty, of communication between us which
war will occasion. We are deeply grieved to think of the ine-

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apportera entre vous et nous. Cette rupture^ nous a pro-
fond6ment afiHigds par les maux inevitables qu'elJe doit
causer aux deux pays. Combien Y humanity a lieu de g^mir,
quelques soient les suites de ce bouleversement g^n^ral !
Lors meme que la fin seroit parfaitement heureuse et glo-
rieuse, il est impossible que tous les coeurs sensibles ne
soufPrent pas cruellement des moyens. Au milieu des
calamit^s publique nous conservons le m^me bonheur
domestique ; nous pourrions dire meme que le iidtre en
est augment^ : les liens de l'intimit6 se resserrent encore
dans les momens oii le coeur froiss6 sent le besoin de ses
consolations. D'ailleurs ce qu'on appeloit autrefois de-
voirs de 80ci6te, les visites, les repas, les assemblies,
n'etant plus demise dans les circonstances actuelles. Ton
se trouve plus habituellement aupr^s de ses vrais amis, et
Ton les en aime davantage; I'onjomt de la douceur de
gemir avec eux, mais vous savez que ce ne pent etre que
bien bos. Paris est violemment agit^ depuis quelques
jours ; on voudroit faire partir tout le monde pour Tarmde,
et il y a bien quelques oppositions. Cependant il partira
beaucoup d'hommes, et les sacrifices d'argent pour les

vitable evils which this ruptare^ will bring upon both countries.
How much humanity has reason to lament, whatever may be the
consequences of the general confusion ! Even though the end should
prove glorious and happy, no feeling heart can fail to be cruelly
affected by the means.

In the midst of public calamity, the happiness of our family
circle is the same as ever. We might almost say that it is in-
creased ; for the ties of intimacy are drawn closer when the bruised
heart feels the want of consolation. Besides, what were formerly
called the duties of society, visits, dinners, and parties, being no
longer suited to existing circumstances, one is thrown more habitually
amongst one^s real Mends, to whom, on that account, one becomes
the more attached. One finds a pleasure in uniting one's lamenta-
tions to &eirs, although you are aware that it must be only in a
whisper.

Paris has been for some days in a state of violent agitation ; every
one is required to set off to join the army, and this meets with some
opposition. However, a great number of men will go, and great

^ The National Convention declared war against Great Britain
ou the Ist of February, 1793.

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bien payer et les bien habiller sont considerables. C'est
bien le moment de vaincre ou de mourir, car quelle
esp^ce de mis^ricorde pourrions-nous attendre de nos
ennemis ? Nous vous comptons avec bien du regret dans
le nombre, et nous tournons nos regards avec amertume
vers le temps oii nous vous faisions des soUicitations pour
nous venir voir.

Mon mari se joint k moi pour vous assurer de notre
inviolable amitie, et pour vous prier de penser k nous.

D. G.

Letter XCVI.

TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, September 14, 1793.

I have just received yoUr second letter, and must with
shame confess that no letter of mine to you has mis-
carried, for I have never yet written to you. You wiU, I
am sure, do me the justice to believe that I have not been
able to find half an hour*s leisure since I left London, or
you would certainly have heard from me. At Edinburgh,
which is the only place where I have been at all sta-
tionary, the business I came about occupied, on an
average, five or six hours of every day. I had then to
see the curiosities of the place, and the charming country
about it, and I had every day dinner and supper parties
in a very excellent society. You will easily believe that
all this left me few moments of leisure — so few that I have
hardly been able to read a newspaper, and that I know
little more of what is passing on the Continent than what
I have heard in conversation.

sacrifices are made to pay them well and clothe them well. This
is indeed the moment to conquer or die, for what mercy could we
expect from our enemies t It is with pain we reckon you amongst
the number, and we call to mind with bitter regret the time when
we entreated you to come and visit us. My husband joins me in
assuring you of our unalterable friendship, and in beggmg that you
will sometimes think of us.

Yours, &c.

D. G,

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1799. M.DUMONT, ETC. 355

The society I have been living in has consisted prin-
cipally of lawyers and men of letters. Among the last of
these, the person whom I most saw and lived with at
Edinburgh was our friend Mr. Dugald Stewart, whom
the more I know the more I esteem for the qualities of
his heart, and the more I admire and respect for his
knowledge and his talents.

He is at this moment printing two works: one, An
Accoimt of Adam Smith and his Writings, to be pub-
lished in the Transactions of the Edinburgh Society ;
and the other, the heads of his Lectures on Moral
Philosophy, a part of which only he has already published
in the book which you are well acquainted with. This
last work is only intended for the use of the students who
attend his lectures, but he has promised me a copy. He
has shown me part of his account of Adam Smith, which
is very interesting. It contains a history of his different
works ; but Mr. Stewart has unfortunately resolved to be
much shorter in what he says of the Wealth of Nations
than he had once intended. Smith*s life, as you may
suppose, does not abound with extraordinary events.
There is one, however, which happened to him in his
infancy, which is worth mentioning : he was stolen by
some gipsies, and they had carried him to the distance of
some miles before they were overtaken. A little more
expedition on their part, or a little more delay on the part
of their pursuers, and that acuteness and invention
which has produced a work that will benefit the latest
posterity would have been wholly exercised in finding
out irregular expedients to preserve a precarious exist-
ence. I have seen many of Adam Smith's friends here,
and he seems to have been loved and revered by every-
body who knew him.

Nothing is wanting in Edinburgh but a fine climate to
make it the place in which I should prefer, before any
that I have seen, to pass my life, if I were obliged to pass
it in any town. Nothing can surpass the beauty of the
country around it, which is rich, highly cultivated, well
wooded, well peopled, and bounded on the different sides
with the sea or with mountains. I have been pleased

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with everything I have seen in Edinburgh and about it,
except the persons of the women ; I mean those of the
lower ranks of life, who are certainly very plain ; and the
administration of justice, which I think detestable. I am
not surprised that you have been shocked at the account
you have read of Muir's trial ; you would have been much
more shocked if you had been present at it as I was. I
remained there both days, and think I collected, in the
course of them, some interesting materials. You may
judge, however, from the account I gave you of the
manner of my spending my time, that I have not been
able to collect any materiaJs on any subject in a more
faithful repository than my memory; and as that was
never very good, is pretty much used, and is stuffed tole-
rably full, T am afraid I shall lose a good deal of what I
have been collecting.

I write this letter, as you may guess from the different
coloured inks, in different inns, just as I have five or ten
minutes' leisure, and am at this moment at Luss, a little
village on the side of Loch Lomond, in a most romantic
country, by the side of an immense lake (Loch Lomond),
which is enclosed with mountains and enriched with
islands. My course from Edinburgh has been to Lin-
lithgow, from thence to Falkirk and the iron-works at
Carron, and so on to Stirling, which, as well as Linlith-
gow, was formerly the residence of the kings of Scotland.
I am not much given to copy the inscriptions which I
meet with on my travels, but I was very much struck
with one I saw at Stirling. It was indeed so modem,
having been only put up the last year, that no learned
traveller would have deigned to look at it. It is upon
some almshouses, which were founded by a tailor. He
had, in the exercise of his trade, earned a considerable
fortune, which he chose to employ in this foundation, and
in establishing a fund for repairing bridges. The inscrip-
tion commemorates this fact, and then concludes with
these words : " Forget not, reader, that the shears of this
man do more honour to human nature than the swords of
conquerors."

I have been perfectly astonished at the richness and

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1793. M. DUMONT. EXa 36*J

high cultivation of all the tract of this calumniated
country through which I have passed, and which extends
above sixty miles, quite from Edinburgh to the moun-
tains where I now am. It is true, however, that almost
everything which one sees to admire in the way of cul-
tivation is due to modem improvements ; and now and
then one observes a few acres of brown moss, contrasting
admirably with the corn-fields to which they are con-
tiguous, and affording one a specimen of the dreariness
and desolation which, half a century ago, overspread a
country now cultivated and scattered over with comfort-
able habitations, and become a most copious source of
human happiness. I complained to you formerly of the
climate, and I never had more reason to be out of
humour with it than at this moment, when the rain is
pouring down, and spreading a veil between me and one
of the most beautiful views that I have ever seen.

I take up my pen to conclude this long letter. While
I was complaining of the rain it began to cease, and I
soon afterwards set out for an island, on an eminence of
which I had a beautiful view of the lake, its islands, and
the surrounding country. I was accompanied by the
minister of the parish, a Mr. Stuart, to whom Mr. Dugald
Stewart gave me a letter. I afterwards dined with him,
and found in him the hospitality and naivetS of a moun-
taineer, and the learning and cultivated mind of one who
had divided his whole time between study and the so-
ciety of a metropolis. I was quite delighted to make
acquaintance with him. In the morning he preaches at
his church in English, and in the afternoon in Erse ; and
he is now translating the Bible into Erse, a considerable
part of which has been already printed. After dinner I
proceeded to this place (Dumbarton), in my way to
Glasgow, which I shall reach to-morrow morning. From
thence I shall return to London, though not by the most
direct road.

S. R.

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368

CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.

Letter XCVII.

TO THE SAME.

Dear Dumont, ^^"^'^ ^»»'^- 2, 1793.

I am 80 senaible of my fault in not having written
to you oftener while I was in Scotland, that I have sat
down with a firm resolution of writing you a very long
letter now that I am returned, and nothing less than the
interruption of a client shall prevent my keeping my
resolution. Since my return I have been overloaded
with business, and I have found accumulated for the few
days I have to be here all the business which would have
been thinly scattered through the last two months if I
had been in town. Of the little time I have had to spare
a part has been taken up with Mr. Guyot, whom I found
here on my return from Scotland, and who is now set off
for that country himself. I was very glad to see him,
both on his own account (for, with all the faults which
you impute to him, he has many very estimable and
amiable qualities), and because he brought me some news

of the D 8. They are still well, and at Passy ; and

what may be deemed extraordinary good fortune, not-
withstanding then: riches, they have not yet been any of
them fixed on as objects of persecution. The second son,
however, has been compelled to take arms, but by special
favour he has been permitted to enter into the corps of
engineers, and has been allowed a little time to qualify
himself for that situation, so that he has a short respite
before he will be compelled to risk his life in defence of
the oppressors of his country. The eldest son is still at
Hamburg. G.'s brother, who was in the National Guard,
has been murdered in a riot at Lyons. Guyot was at
Paris in August and September of last year, and I have
learned many more curious particulars of the events of
that time, in a few hours' conversation with him, than
are to be found in all the five or six hundred pages of
Dr. Moore. He left Paris immediately after the mas-

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sacres of September ; and although he was a foreigner it
was with great difficulty that he obtained a passport.
Finding all other resources faO him, he resolved to try
what influence he might have on Manuel, with whom he
had once been intimate, and whom he had introduced to

the D family. Accordingly he went to the Hotel de

Ville, and was there conducted into a room where a num-
ber of persons were assembled, all waiting to have an
audience of Manuel. A profound silence prevailed
among them, and the deepest ^melancholy and dejection
was painted on every countenance. Guyot could not
conjecture who they were ; but he soon found that they
were the relations and friends of persons who had been
confined in different prisons, come to inquire what had
been their fate. The mode adopted to answer their in-
quiries, and to remove their anxious uncertainty, was
this : they were taken one by one into a room, where
were strewed about a number of fragments of clothes,
torn, stained with dirt, or soaked in blood ; and if, upon
minutely examining these vestiges of massacre, they
could discover nothing which they recollected, there was
some faint hope that the son or tiie husband they were
trembling for had escaped. While this tragedy was
acting in the rooms of the Hdtel de Ville, a most dis-
gusting farce was performed in the court below. Volun-
teers, who were setting out for the frontiers, came in
crowds to take the oath to the new government before
their departure, and as they came out of the Town House
each in his turn walked up deliberately to the prostrate
statue of Louis XIV., which had been cast down with the

other monuments of royalty, and p upon it in the

midst of the shouts and laughter of a circle of women and
children, delighted with this obscene ceremony, which
lasted without interruption during the two hours that
Guyot was there waiting for his passport.

I am sorry to find that you are wavering in your deter-
mination about going to Bowood, for I know how that
sort of wavering generally ends in a person of your
indolent disposition. I wish you would determine to go
with me. It is pretty evident from your last letter that,

YOL. I. 2 b

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370 OORRESPONDEMCE WITH Oet.

if you have not quite laid aside Bentham's work, it oc-
cupies very little of your time; and as toK., it seems
completely eflGewsed from your memory. There may un-
doubtedly be some kind of enjoyment in sauntering away
the whole morning with D., and hearing, during the
whole afternoon, T.'s panegyrics on that loss of time
which he professes to adore, and thus approaching so
near to the quiescent state of death ; but I really cannot
persuade myself that it is an enjoyment fit for one of
your talents, natural dispositions, and prospects of haj)-
piness. Indeed I am quite vexed, not only with you,
but with myself, when I see such means of being useful
to mankind as you possess so lost as they seem likely to
be. I reproach myself as being in some degree an ac-
complice by not endeavouring to rouse you from so fiital
a lethargy. Indeed, Dumont, you must come to a reso-
lution of doing something that will be useful to posterity.
Surely the hope of being able to prevent some of those
calamities from falling on future ages which we now see
so dreadfully visiting the present might be as strong a
motive to excite your energy as any that has ever hitherto
called it forth. ^ I have a great deal more to say to you
on this subject ; but, not to fatigue you too much at pre-
sent, I conclude.

Yours most affectionately,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter XCVIII.

to the same.

Dear Dumont, Oct 4. 1793.

I was very much rejoiced to find that you were ca-
pable of reading my long letter quite to the end, and even
of answering it in the same day : after so great an ex-
ertion your case is certainly not quite to be despaired of.
You cannot think that I meant very seriously to cen-

^ M. Dumont became subsequently the coadjutor of Bentham,
and published ten volumes 870. of his works on subjects connected
withlegislation.

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I'm. M. DUMONT. ETC. 37I

sure you for sending my letter open to the Chauvets.
They have said nothing to me about K., nor I to them.
However, my attack upon your indolence, loss of time,
&c., was most serious, and I really think that it can be to
nothing but your habitual want of exertion that can be
ascribed your using such curious arguments as you do in
your defence. Your theory is this : Every mao does all
the good that he can. If a particular individual does no
good, it is a proof that he is incapable of doing it. That
you don't write proves that you can't, and your want of
inclination demonstrates your want of talents. What
an admirable system ! and what beneficial effects would
it be attended with if it were but universally received !

Indeed, I cannot condescend to refute a theory which
I am sure it is impossible you can have seriously adopted.
One would suppose by your letter that you thought the
true criterion of a fine writer was, that he was fond of
writing ; but the contrary is so true that I doubt whether
there ever was a great writer who took great pleasure in
writing, and who had not, generally, when he began to
write, a sort of repugnance to surmount. It must natu-
rally be so. He must be difficult in the choice of expres-
sions ; he finds more pain from what is ill expressed than
pleasure from what is merely as it ought to be. He is
sensible of the defects of his own style, and he feels more
pain from them than from defects in the style of others ;
and whatever pleasure his own performances may give
him when they are corrected to his mind, they afford him
but little in their intermediate state. You recollect the
labour which Rousseau had in writing, and the fatigue
which he says it gave him ; many other examples of the
same kind might be mentioned.

S.R.

See ante, p. 317.

2 B 2

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372 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Nov

Letter XCIX.

FROM M. DUMONT.

13 Novembi«, 1793.

J'avois compt^, mon cher Romilly, de retoumer in-
cessamment k Wycombe, mais j'apprends que Madame de

va s'^tablir i Londres, et en consequence je resterai

k Bowood, ce qui me privera du plaisir de vous voir,
jusques vers la fin de I'ann^e, selon toute apparence. Ce
long s6jour n'eat pas precis^ment ce que j'aurois choisi,
surtout parceque, n'ayant point fait mon plan pour cela,
je n'ai pas apport^ les materiaux de mon travail. Cepen-
dant, pour ne pas m^riter tout-i-fait vos reproches, je
remplis ma t^te d'histoire, avec un projet suivi, et j'amajsse
des pierres et du sable pour faire un jour un Edifice, si mes
forces peuvent seconder mes d6sirs.

Mais que font les livres ? Qui est-ce qui ne seroit pas
d6goiit6 d'^crire et mSme de penser, quand on voit la bar-
baric se reproduire dans le pays le plus 6clair6 de T Europe ?
Les hurlemens des sauvages sont moins afreux que les

Letter XCIX.

November 13, 1793.

I had reckoned, my dear Romilly, upon returning forthwith

to Wycombe, but I learn that Made, de is going to §ettle in

. London, and I shall therefore remain at Bowood, which will, in all
probability, deprive me of the pleasure of seeing you till towards
the end of the year. This long stay is not exactly what I should
have chosen, especially as, not having foreseen it when I made my
arrangements, I have not brought with me the materials of my work.
Nevertheless, that I may not altogether deserve your reproaches, I
am cramming my head with history, and am endeavouring to lay
down a connected plan ; I am collecting stones and sand, which, if
my powers do but second my wishes, may one day become an
edifice.

But of what use are books ? Who can write or even think with-
out disgust, when he sees the most enlightened country in Europe
returning to a state of barbarism i The bowlings of savages aie
less frightful than the harangues of the representatives of a nation

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1793. M. DUMONT, ETC. 373

harangues des d^put^s de la nation la plus polie et repute
la plus douce du Continent. On est presque r^duit k sou-
haiter que les Frangois eussent les vices de la Mchet^,
comme ils ont ceux de la barbaric. Le courage du peuple
est devenu I'instrument de la f6rocite de ses chefe.

Quoique j'aie condamn^ autant que vous la faction de la
Gironde, pendant qu'elle attaquoit et renversoit la consti-
tution, je vous avoue que I'horrible vengeance de la faction
dominante m'a cau86 une profonde douleur. Je n'ai jamais
aim6 Brissot sous ses rapports politiques ; la passion I'avoit
6nivr6 plus que personne ; mais cela ne m'empeche pas de
rendre justice k ses vertus, k son caract^re priv6, k son
d6sint6ressement, k ses qualites sociales comme epoux,
comme pere, comme ami, comme defenseur intr6pide de
la cause des msJheureux noirs. Je ne pense pas sans effroi
qu'il avoit puis6 une partie des principes qui Font 6gare
dans les ecrits m^me de Rousseau, et qu'un cceur naturelle-
ment humain et honnete ne Ta pas d6fendu des illusions
de Tesprit de parti. La vanite d'etre regaxd6 comme un
chef a sans doute contribu6 k ses fautes ; la MgSrete de son
jugement Ta precipite dans die fausses mesures, et la vio-
lence du peuple a fait le reste. II 6toit de ceux qui
crojoient de bonne foi que tout 6toit sanctifi6 par ce qu'on

esteemed the gentlest and the most polished of the Continent. One
is almost reduced to wish that the French added the vices of
cowardice to those of barbarity. The courage of the people has
become the instrument of the ferocity of their leaders.

Although I condemned, as strongly as you did, the faction of the
Gironde whilst it was attacking and pulling down the constitution,
I confess to you that the dreadful vengeance taken on than by the
dominant party gave me the deepest pain. I never liked Brissot
as a politician; no one was ever more mtoxicated by passion; but
that does not prevent me from doing justice to his virtues, to his
private character, to his disinterestedness, to his social qualities as a
husband, a father, and a friend, and as the intrepid advocate of the
wretched negro. I cannot reflect, without^' a shudder, that he
imbibed some of the principles which led him astray from the very
writings of Rousseau ; and that a disposition naturally kind and
good did not preserve him from the delusions of party-spirit. The
vanity of being looked upon as a leader no doubt contributed to
his faults, the weakness of his judgment hurried him into false
measures, and the violence of the people did the rest. He was one
of those who sincerely believed that what is called the will of the

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374 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Nov.

appeloit la volont6 du peuple, et il a fait de grands manx
par Tenthousiasnie de la liberty, comme tant d'autres en
ont Mi par renthousiasme de la religion. Le pouvoir
d'absotddre, que s'6toit attriba6 TEglise Rcnnaine, a pr€-
cis^ment k mgme 6nergie sar les consciences que Ten-
thousiasme politique sur I'esprit. Je ne m'^tois pas pro-
pose de vous parler si longtemps d'un homme que vous
n'avez jamais pu souflBrir; mais je Tavois connu sous
d'autres points de vue que ceux qui lerendoient justement
bMmable k vos yeux, et la triste fin de cet homme,^ qui
eut 6t6 excellent s'il fut n6 dans les Etats-Unis, m'inspire
un sentiment de compassion qui ne me laisse voir dans ses
fkutes que TefFet de la contagion g^nftrale.

Mais que penser de I'abominable 16gSret6 de ce peuple
qui a compt6, Tune apr^s I'autre, les tStes de ces vingt
victimes, k mesure qu'elles tomboient sous Tinstrument
fatal, sans parottre conserver le moindre souvenir des
applaudissemens qu'il avoit donn6, pendant plus d'une
ann6e, i des hommes qu*il regardoit comme les d^fenseurs
de sa liberty ? Cette r6flexion ne devroit-elle pas affrayer

people was a justification of everything, and he has done as much
mischief by the enthusiasm of liberty as many others have done by
the enthusiasm of religion. The power of absolution assumed by the
Romish Church has precisely the same hold on the consciences of
men as political enthusiasm has on their understandings. I bad
not intended to talk to you so long about a man you never could
endure, but I had seen him in points of view different from those
which made him justly blamable in your eyes ; and the sad end of
this man,^ who would have been excellent had he been bom in tiie
United States, inspires me with a feeling of compassion which pre-
vents my seeing .in his faults anything more than the effect of the
general contagion of the time.

But what are we to think of the abominable fickleness of tiiat
people who could count, one after the other, the heads of those
twenty victims, as they each dropped under the fatal instrument of
death, without seeming to retain the slightest recollection of the
applauses which, for more than a year, they had bestowed upon
them, as men whom they then looked upon as the defenders of their
liberty ? Ought not this reflection to alarm those who have directed

^ Brissot was executed at Paris on the 30th October, 1793,
together with twenty other members of the Gironde party.

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ceux qui ont dirig6 ces executions pr^tendues juridiques ?
J'esp^re que les sc616rat8 qui dominent aujourd'hui
ont aign€ leur arr^t de mort. Mais verrons-nous ce
peuple f6rocia6 revenir k I'hunianit^ et k la raison? je
n'en sais rien. La folie des Croisades a dur6 deux cents
ans ; la d6mence actuelle pent engloutir plus d'une g6n6-
ration.

Vous Stes plong6 dans vos occupations judicielles.
C'est presque un bonheur pour vous de n'avoir pas le
tems de r6fl6chir, car toutes les reflexions aujourd'hui
sont amdres. J'esp^re que vous avez fait une provision
de sante dans vos excursions. On parle ici de vous
comme ayant donn6 plus de plaisir que vous ne pouviez
en recevoir, et Ton se flatte d'un plus long s6jour une
autre ann6e.

Adieu! Je vous 6crirai bientdt une lettre moins la-
mentable.

Et. D.

Lbtter C.

TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, Lincoln's Inn, Nov. 22. 1793.

You would perhaps set some value on this letter, if
you knew how many things I have to do at the moment I
write it, and what excuses I must make to-morrow to
some stupid attorney for having devoted to you the time
which I ought to employ upon a bill in Chancery. You

these pretended legal executions ? I trust that the ruffians who rule
to-day have signed their own death-warrant. But shall we ever see
this brutalised people return to humanity and reason ? I know not.
The madness of the Crusades lasted two hundred years ; the present
frenzy may swallow up more than one generation.

You ajre engrossed by your legal pursuits. It is almost a blessing
for you that you have no time for thought, for all thoughts are bitter
now. I hope that, in your excursions, you have laid in a good
stock of health. You are spoken of here as having given more
pleasure than you could have received, and a longer visit is looked
forward to another year. Farewell ! I will write you soon a less
melancholy letter.

Et.D.

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must have fonned a very inaccurate idea of the insipid
and uninteresting occupations to which I am every day
enslaved, when you conjecture that I am so deeply ahsorbed
in them as to pay little attention to what is passing in
France. I have almost always present to my mind the
state of that deplorable country. I cannot say that I felt
no compassion even for Brissot and his party, but it is a
compassion which reason cannot justify. They who have
been teaching such bloody lessons have no right to com-
plain that they fall by the hands of the disciples whom
they have themselves instructed. How fortunate it is
that the torture was an aristocratical or a monarchical
invention I — it is certainly that circumstance alone, and no
degree of humanity, which prevents its being exercised
on all the victims who are daily offered up to the popu-
lace of Paris. The Queen's * trial furnishes one among
many instances that the wretches who at present rule in
France have been able to invent tortures for the mind
more cruel than any that had ever before been heard of.
The French are plunging into a degree of barbarism which,
for such a nation, and in so short a period, surpasses all
imagination. All religion is already abolished ; and the
next proceeding will undoubtedly be a persecution as
severe and as unremitting as any that has taken place in
the darkest ages ; for it is only in order to arrive at the
persecution that religion is abolished. We may soon
expect to see all books exterminated ; history, because it
relates to kings; poetry, because it speaks the language
of flattery ; political economy, because it favours mono-
I polizers and freedom of trade ; and so on through all
other sciences, till the French preserve nothing of civil-
ized life but its vices, which they will have engrafted on
a state of the most savage barbarism.

Are you not astonished to see Si^yes in all this standing
up in the midst of his fellow-murderers, and claiming
applause for his having so long ago thought like a phi-
losopher ? Ill as I have long thought of him, I did not
imagine him capable of such degradation.

* Marie Antoinette had been executed on the 16th October.

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July, 1794. M. DUMONT, ETC. 3>jij

I have been lately endeavouring to relieve my mind
from the reflections which these hideous scenes suggest,
by an accoimt which has been lately published of the
new colony of JCentucky, in America. It is no small
consolation to one to think that there is at least one quarter
of the globe in which mankind is daily increasing in
happiness. The book is very interesting, though it is
written, like almost all the other American compositions I
have seen, in a style which has every possible defect, and
not one merit ; and though the author has the American
mania of pretending to philosophize upon everything, and
to treat all nations but his own with contempt.

Yours ever,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter CI

' TO MADAME

London, July 29, 1794.

I can hardly express to you. Madam, the pleasure

which I felt on opening M. G ^'s letter, and reading

the first four lines of it ; by which I learnt that you were
both with your children, well in health, and out of France.
My joy, indeed, was greatly damped by the rest of the
letter, which gives me an account of the situation of M.

D ; and yet, as I had heard a vague report of his

having been arrested, unaccompanied with any particular
circumstances, my anxiety for you had so much exagge-
rated the evil, and had so heightened your^ distress, that
your letter brought me very great relief. I most ear-
nestly pray that your endeavours may be successful, and
that the time is not far off when you will again enjoy un-
disturbed that domestic happiness which you so well de-
serve. May I beg of you, when you write to your excellent
mother, to mention my name to her, and to say how much
I feel, and how anxiously I interest myself for her?
Would to God that you were wholly separated from the
wretched country^ which you have quitted, and could have
the full enjoyment of being once more in a land of peace

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and tranquillity I I have never read any of the accounts
of those unexampled enormities which have been com-
mitted at Paris, without feeling, amidst the emotions of
horror and pity which they excited hi my mind, the
strongest sympathy for you, who were doomed to be near
the spot where all those atrocious crimes were perpe-
trated, and to have your imaginations alarmed, and your
sensibility tortured, by a detail of a thousand circum-
stances of horror which we at this distance have escaped.
I do not, however, wish to bring them back to your recol-
lection, and should be happy if I could efface them from
it for ever.

I have no news to send you, for happily this country
produces no events worth relating. A great deal, indeed,
has been said, both here and abroad, of the dangerous
designs which are entertained and cherished by many
persons in this country ; but there has not hitherto been
the smallest indication by any open acts of any such
designs existing; and whatever interruptions of tran-
quillity have happened have been by the too zealous
friends of quiet and good order riotously demonstrating
their loyalty and attachment to the constitution.

It is impossible not to be curious to hear particulars of
the unhappy country you have left, and of which the
public accounts here, where we never see a single French
newspaper, are very imperfect ; and yet I hardly know
how to require them from you ; " infandum renovare
dolorem." But at any rate write to me. I can scarcely
say how much I rejoice at the renewal of our correspond-
ence. It seems as if we had met together after a long
journey, and the lapse of many years. And what trage-
dies have filled up the interval! Our correspondence
will, I hope, never again be interrupted, and I trust we
shall, before many years have passed, meet in reality
either in this country or in Switzerland.

I remain, &c.

S. ROMILLT.

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Letter CII.

TO MR. DUGALD STEWART.

Angost 26, 1794.

1 reproach myself very much for having so loBg
delayed returning you thanks for the great pleasure which
your account of Adam Smith afforded me. Some very
pressing engagements made it very inconvenient to me to
write to you for some time after I received it ; and having
once postponed writing, I have ever since gone on in-
creasing my fault hy heing ashamed to own it. All my
acquaintance who have seen the account of Adam Smith
think it extremely interesting. The only complaint I
have heard respecting] it is that it is too short, and that
you have withheld from the puhlic the observations which
an analysis of the Wealth of Nations would have sug-
gested to you.
I received, a few weeks ago, a letter from my friend

G , who married Mile. D . It was dated from

Berne, and hrought me the good news of his heing safe
there with his wife and his children. But M. and Made.
D are still in France, and he is in confinement ; ac-
cused, however, of nothing but vaguely of being attached
to aristocracy ; and reaUy guilty, I believe, of no crime
but that of being rich. He is in a house in the neighbour-
hood of Paris, in a good air, with the use of a large garden,
and in a very numerous and very good society of his
fellow-prisoners. All these indulgences, however, are paid
for at a very high rate ; and I have heard it said (though
G does not mention it) that this species of imprison-
ment of the rich is a source of corruption to those who are,
or lately were, in power at Paris. Enormous sums are
exacted, nominally for the board of the prisoners, but in
truth to enrich some of the members of the governing
committees. The lives of the persons so imprisoned are
not supposed to be in much danger, because their deaths
M^ould put an end to a source of wealth to the persons to
whose protection they are committed ; but, for the same

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380 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.

reason, their impriaonmeiit is likely to be of long duration.

The object of M. G ^'s journey into Switzerland is to

procure the Council of Berne to interpose in behalf of

M. D , who is still considered as a Swiss; and he

seems to entertain great hopes of the success of that ex-
pedient. You told me, I recollect, that you had some
thoughts of making a visit to London in the course of this
year. I hope you have not given- up all intention of that
kind, and that I shall have the pleasure of seeing you
here, where I shall probably pass the greatest part of my
vacation.

I remain yours,

S. R.

Letter CIIL

TO MADAME G .

Oct. 14. 1794.

Your excellent letter gave me inexpressible joy. I
know that it is unnecessary to tell you so, but yet I feel
pleasure in doing it. At the moment I received it I was
under great uneasiness on your account. I had, indeed,
considered the overthrow of Robespierre's system* as the

forerunner of M. D 's liberty, and I had even sat down

to congratulate you on that event, when I read in one of
our newspapers that he was removed to the Conciergerie.
I immediately destroyed my letter, lest my congratula-
tions, reaching you at a moment when you were in the
most tormenting uncertainty, should have only given you
additional pain. I have ever since been waiting witii
great anxiety to hear from you. Judge then of the joy
which your letter afforded me. May you long— long
enjoy the society of the parents who are restored to you !
I felt the most lively pleasure in learning that your ex-
cellent and admirable mother, whose virtues have been
put to so severe a trial, and whose sensibility has been so
tortured, was not indifferent to the interest which I take
in everything that concerns her. I please myself with
thinking that, before this letter reaches you, she will have

* On the 27th of July, 1794 (9th Thermidor, An 11).

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joined you, and that when you read this it will he hy the
side of that excellent parent, and that you will read it
with a heart perfectly at ease, and in that calm and tran-
quillity which can enahle you to enjoy the charming
country which you now inhahit. I have at this moment
before my eyes the very prospect which you are perhaps
admiring. I once passed six weeks in the neighbourhood
of Lausanne, and I every day beheld the sublime scene of
the Lake of Geneva spread out at the feet of the rude
mountains with fresh astonishment and delight. I think it
never will be effaced from my memory. Unfortunately,
I don't recollect the village of Cour, though I must several
times have passed through it in going to Ouchy ; but I
lived above the town, in a house which then went by the
name of the " Pavement." It has probably changed its
name by this time, for it is now thirteen years ago : it was
just before I first visited Paris, and when I had the good
fortune to be introduced to your family.

You are kind enough to reproach me for not talking
about myself in my letters. It is, I assure you, because it
is a subject upon which there is nothing to be told. If any
events had happened in my life which could afford either
pain or pleasure to those who take any interest about me,
I should not have failed to relate them to you, on whose
friendship I so firmly rely. But mine is a life which
passes without events. I am, I believe, exactly what I
was when you last saw me, with the addition of five years
to my age, with some alteration in my opinions produced
by the terrible experience of public events, but with none,
that I am aware of, in my dispositions. I am still un-
married, and, I think, likely to remain so. My success in
my profession has been much greater than I could have
had any reason to expect. My business has of late years
greatly increased, and seems likely to increase much
more. I devote myself indeed entirely to it, and it has
been without much struggle with myse^ that I have twice
refused a seat in Parliament.* My reasons for it I think

* The following paasage occurs, at the date of January, 1792, in
a diary of evente in the handwriting of Mr. Romilly :— " Lord

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CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct. Vm.

you would approve of were I to trouble you with them ;
but I have been long enough talking about mjTBelf; and
if I have been too long remember tbat the fault is
yours.

Notwithstanding our total failure of success, the war
seems, I think, as popular here as ever, at least in the
part of the country where I have been, for I am but just
returned to town. In London, I believe, and in other
great trading towns, people begin to reflect that no ad-
vantage can be gained by prosecuting a war which has
hitherto had no effect but to strengthen the system it was
intended to overturn. As to the internal tranquillity of
the country, there is no reason to fear its being inter-
rupted, at least not for a considerable time. There are
indeed many persons here who wish, a total overthrow of
our constitution, and many more who desire great changes
in it ; but the great majority of the nation, and particularly
the armed part of it (which is at present a very large por-
tion, for volunteer regiments have been raised in every
county), are most ardent zealots for maintaining our con-

Lansdowne offered me a seat in Parliament for Calne, in the room
of Mr. Morris, who was about to resign. I refused it.^'

There is no account in these papers of the second offer here men-
tioned; but at a date subsequent to that of the letter in the text, the
following correspondence passed between Lord Lansdowne and Mr.
Romilly on the same subject : —

Extract from a letter of Lord Lansdowne, dated 27ih June, 1 795 : —
" As YOU mention the* possibility of its [a dissolution of Parlia-
ment] taking place in a few days, I send this by the coach to save
time, for I cannot think of making any arrangement as to a new
Parliament without knowing your final _ determination in regard to
yourself. I am persuaded it is unnecessary for me to say anything on
my part, as I have already explained myself so fully and repeatedly
to you."

From a rough draught, in the handwriting of Mr. Romilly, dated
28th June, 1795 : — ^ I return your Lordship my warmest thanks
for your yery obliging letter. Nothing which has happened since I
had last the honour of conversing with you on the subject has in the
least altered my sentiments with respect to Parliament; it is, there-
fore, with the truest sense of the obligation which I have to your
Lordship, and with a great degree of reluctance, that I think myself
obliged to decline profiting of your Lordship^s kind intentions in my
favour."

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1795. M. DUMONT, ETC 383

stitation as it is, and disposed to think the reform of the
most palpable abuse, which has been of long continuance,
as a species of sacrilege. I am

Yours, &c.

S. R.

1795—1802.
Letter CIV.

TO MR. DUGALD STEWART.

1795.

I know you do not very rigidly exact punctuality in
your correspondents, but yet I am afraid you will think I
have abused your indulgence by delaying so long to write
to you. Very soon after I received your last letter I de-
livered your book * to Lord Lansdowne ; he desired me to
return you many thanks for it, and to say that as soon as
he is sufficiently recovered from a fit of the gout, which
he has had for a considerable time, to be able to hold a
pen, he will write himself to thank you for it.

Since I had the pleasure of writing to you I have re-
ceived some account of M. D 's family. I told you, I

believe, that he was a long time in confinement for
having, as was alleged, in his possession papers of a coun-
ter-revolutionary tendency. Soon after Robespierre's
death he was tried and acquitted, and he immediately re-
moved with his femily to Lausanne, in Switzerland.

M. G and his wife have, however, since returned to

Paris, and I believe they are there at present. The eldest
son, who went to America, and was at the head of a com-
mercial establishment which his father had formed, died
there after an illness of a very few dajrs.

I understand the ministers entertain very sanguine
expectations from the expedition of the emigrants into
Britany, though it seems hardly likely to produce any
great efiect at Paris ; or, if it does, the most probable
effect of it will be to restore the credit of the Jacobin

^ Account of Adam SmitL

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384 OORKESPONDENCE WITH 1795.

party, whose vigorous measures may be thought the only
resource in times of danger. The state of Paris seems very
singular. There are no disturbances there but in fevour
of moderantism, and the only murders at present to be
dreaded are likely to be perpetrated, as in the south of
France, by those who are actuated by horror of the assas-
sinations committed by Robespierre and his adherents.

Many persons who have been proscribed in France ever
since the establishment of the Republic now appear with
security, and even challenge the public attention by jk)-
litical publications. Among these, some of the most re-
markable are Vaublanc, Dupont de Nemours, and Ber-
gasse ; but the most singular publications that have ap-
peared at Paris are the different memoirs of the Giron-
distes, and which seem by the French papers to be very
numerous. A few of them have been reprinted here ;
among others that of Mad®. Roland, composed during her
confinement in different prisons at Paris. It is written
with uncommon eloquence, contains a great many curious
facts, and gives some very well-drawn characters of the
leading men in the different factions which have pre-
vailed during and since the time of her husband's ad-
ministration. But the most extraordinary character it
paints is her own. Her enthusiasm, her party zeal, her
masculine courage, and unalterable serenity under the
most imminent dangers, are exactly calculated, in the
present state of France, to excite the most enthusiastic
veneration for her memory. Her eloquence, however, is
much superior, to her judgment ; and the warmth of her
zeal more remarkable than the purity of her morals. She
expatiates on the extraordinary talents and virtues of
Brissot, Buzot, Potion, and, indeed, almost all of her own
party : she applauds the famous letters of her husband to
the King, which certainly, more than anything else, con-
tributed to the revolution of the 10th of August, and the
consequent destruction of that unfortunate prince. She
bestows high encomiums on the patriotism of Grangeneuve,
who had laid a plan to have himself murdered, in order
that the popular leaders who survived him might falsely
accuse the king of the murder, and by that means inflame

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1795. M. DUMONT. ETC. 885

the indignation of the people against him. Another sin-
gular book, but much inferior in point of merit, is Louvet's
account of his dangers and hair-breadth escapes during his
journey from Paris to seek an asylum in the Gironde, and
back again from the Gironde to find a place of conceal-
ment at Paris.^ The facts which it contains render it very
interesting, though it is written very much in the manner
of a novel, and though nothing can exceed the extravagant
absurdity. of the author's political opinions. He is fully
convinced, for example, that Robespierre was bribed by
Pitt, and that the English army suffered itself to be beaten
in order to gain the Jacobin party credit in France.

I am, &c.

S. ROMILLY.

'Letter CV.
prom m. dumont.

Bowood, 26t)ct., 1795.

J'ai i6t6 fort Men re9U ici, mon cher Romilly, mais je
I'aurois 6t6 beaucoup mieux si je vous avois amen6 ; il a
fallu expliquer qu il n'y avoit pas de ma faute, et rejeter
sur la n6cessit6 des affaires.

Si vous n'avez pas lu Tapologie de Garat,' n'oubliez pas
de vous la procurer. II y a quelques details extrSmement
curieux, non pas sur lui-mSme, car, malgrS tous ses^fforts,

Letter CV*

Bowood, October 26, 1795.

I have been very well receired here, my dear Romilly; but
I should hare been much better received if I had brought you with
me. I was obliged to explain that the fault was in no respect mine,
and to lay it on pressing business.

If you have not read Garat's apology,* do not forget to procure it.
It contains some extremely curious detsuls; not on himself, for, in
spite of all his efforts, he can nowhere make it appear that he played

1 Le Recti de me8 Perils dejmU le 31 Mai, 1793.
' Entitled Memoires aur la Revolution, ou Expose de ma Cbnduiie
da/u les Affaires et dans les Fonctions Publiques, Paris, 1794.
VOL. I. 2 C

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386 CORKESPONDENCE WITH Oct.

il ne peut jamais se donner qu'un role bien mediocre. Le
morceau le plus soign6 est un portrait de Danton, vers la
fin de Touvrage ; mais, en le comparant avec Made. Roland,
on voit combien tous les efforts d'un bel esprit sont im-
puissans pour arriver k ce style 6nergique et simple qu'elle
a trouve naturellement dans la trempe de son caractere.
Au reste, il a dit aux Girondins une bonne v6rit6, c'est
que, par les lois les plus absurdes et les plus atroces, ils
avoient arm6 eux-mSmes la commune de Paris de tous les
moyens qu'on a ensuite toum6 centre eux. Ils ont 6t6
d6truits par les instruments qu'ils avoient pr^par^ pour
d6truire les Royalistes.

n me parott bien difficile que la Convention puisse
rester avec s(iret6 ou avec confiance dans Paris, apres
Tavoir convert de victimes. Si elle transporte ses stances
k Versailles, en abandonnant la capitale, ils perdent Tin-
fluence qu'elle exer9oit sur les provinces. 11 me semble
que le m6contentement de Paris doit @tre une nouvelle
source de revolution.

Vous verrez dans Garat qu'il a sauv^ la vie k Mr.
Vaughan, que Ton alloit trainer devant le tribunal r^volu-
tionnaire comme espion de Pitt. II ne le nomme pas,

more than a very secondary part. The most laboured passage in it
is a portrait of Danton, towards the end of the work ; but in com-
paring him with Madame Roland one sees how powerless are all the
attempts of a wit to acquire that simple and energetic style which
she derived from the peculiar temper of her own mind. However,
he has told the Girondists one home truth, namely, that it was hj
their own absurd and atrocious laws that they supplied the commune
of Paris with all the powers which were afterwards employed against
themselves. They have been destroyed by the weapons which they
had prepared for the destruction of the Royalists.

It seems to me that it will be very difficult for the Convention to
remain with safety or confidence in Paris, after having strewed it
with victims ; and, on the other hand, if they transfer &eir sittings
to Versailles, they will, by quitting the capital, lose the influebce
which it exercised over the provinces. It appears to me that &e
discontent of Paris must become a new source of revolution.

You will see in Garat that he saved the life of Mr. Vaughan,
who was about to be dragged before the revolutionary tribunal, as a
spy of Pitt's. He does not mention him by name, but he points

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mais il le d6signe pour ceux qui le connoissent, en parlant
d'une lettre qu'C en a re9U de Basle.

Adieu, mon cher Romilly. Quand vous serez de loisir,
envoyez-moi en deux lignes le bulletin de votre sant6. Je
voudrois bien vous transporter ici subitement. Je ne
suis pas le seul k qui cela feroit plaisir. Vale, et me ama.
En finissant comme notre ami Mirabeau, je me rappelle
encore un trait de Garat, qui a eu la Mchet6 de I'insulter
dans sa tombe, quoiqu'il aimdt beaucoup sa compagnie et
ses dtners.

Et. D.

Letter CVI.

TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, Lincoln's inn, Oct. 27, 1795.

I have received your long-expected letter, and, as a
gentle reproach, I answer it immediately. It would have
given me great pleasure to have been with you at Bowood.
I should certainly have passed my time much more agree-
ably than I have done here in the midst of Chancery
pleadings ; but I should hav6 had so great an arrear of
business as would have kept me hurried and fatigued
throughout the whole winter. I do not much envy you
any of your company at Bowood, except those who always
reside there, and Robert Smith, whom I should be glad to
know better than I do.

I have read Garat, and found many parts of it curious ;
but the most extraordinary thing in it is the spirit in
which it is written. Surely none but a Frenchman could,
after having acted such a part as he has done, speak of

hizn out to those who know him, by speaking of a letter which he
received ftom. him from Basle.

Farewell, my dear Romilly. When you have leisure, send me
in two lines the bulletin of your health. I wish I could suddenly
transport you hither. I am not the only one to whom it would give
pleasure. FaU, et me ama. In ending my letter like our friend
Mirabeau, I am reminded of another trait of Garat's, who has had
the meanness to insult him in his grave, although he was very fond
of his company and his dinners.

Et. D.
2c2. ,

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himself with pride and self-applause, and, in the midst of
the ignominy in which he is involved, challenge the
honours due to the most unexampled courage and patri-
otism. But such is the national character ; no Frenchman
is satisfied with a mere justification of himself; he must
have a panegyric, and not to have done wrong is a praise
which such heroes despise. Vilate, one of Rohespierre's
jurymen, who, as a matter of great merit, says that he
never condemned 9Jxy/oum4es (that is, he only murdered
his victims one hy one), has puhlished a pamphlet^ to
hlazon forth his own virtues, and ahove all his sensibility.
But the vanity of no Frenchman surely is superior to that
of Isnard. I have just been reading his memorial, which
he has entitled Proscription (Tlsnard, in which, in one
modest tirade, he puts himself at least on a level with
Curtius, Mutius Scsevola, and Cato of Utica. He boasts
that he never acted in concert with any man, " pas meme
pour faire le bien." "J'avois la manie," he says, "de
former un comity k moi tout seul."

I have probably been reading many more French pam-
phlets than you, for a friend of mine has lent me a la^e
cargo just imported from Paris. Among others are the
papers found in the possession of Robespierre. Nothing
can exceed the adulation of many of his correspondents.
Louis XIV. was never exalted higher by the poets who
cringed about his court, than Robespierre by his pretended
republicans. He appears to have had spies, like those of
the police under the old system. There are reports made
by some of them to this mighty despot, in which they give
an account where Tallien, and Thuriot, and others, went
on such a day, and with whom they were seen, and much
more of the same kind. The lists of the persons confined
and transported, with the crimes imputed to them, which
are also published, are much more curious than the
Registers of the Bastile, which once excited so much
indignation. Another curious pamphlet is V Almanac des
Prisons, and Le Tableau des Prisons, which consists of
relations of what passed in the different prisons, given by

* Entifled Causes Secrttes de la Revolution du 9 Thermidor.

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6eveFal persons who were confined there. There is, too, a
history of Terrorism in the department of Vienne, by
Thibaudeau, a depaty ; but it is less interesting than one
would expect. It contains an account of some of the
enormities of Piorry and Ingrand, the two commissioners
to whom that department was delivered up ; but the author
seems to think no persecutions so interesting to the public
as those to which he and his own family were exposed, and
to those he has accordingly mostly confined his narrative.
There are likewise two volumes of other pieces relating to
it. Among these is Tronson du Coudray's defence of the y
Revolutionary Committee of Nantes, which contains such
a picture of France, under the government of Robespierre
and his proconsuls, as surpasses in horror the most hideous
scenes that history, or even poetry, ever before presented.
Perhaps you have seen all these publications ; and yet I
think you would have mentioned some of them if you had.
Bentham has been locking himself up at Hendon, and
working, as he teUs me, for you at his Civil Code. He
has, too, a refutation of the French Declaration of Rights,
which I encourage him to publish.

Yours ever,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter CVII.

TO M. DUMONT.

Dear Dumont, August 26, 17%.

Your description of Worthing is not very alluring,
but yet there are some circumstances in it which are not
to be despised, and I am by no means clear that I shall
not make it a little visit. If I do, it will not be till after
your ladies have left you. I wish, therefore, you would,
some time in the course of the next week, give me some
account of the plan of life which you have laid down for
the season of adversity, that is, when they shall have left
ypu. I take for granted we can dine together, in any
lodging we may have, tHe-h'tite ; that is a circumstance
upon which so much comfort depends, that, if I understood

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I most dine either with boarders in a house, or even in the
public room of a coffee-house, it would be quite decisive
with me not to set my foot in Worthing. You may recol-
lect how poor a compensation I thought the goodness of
the dinner for the badness of the company when we were
at Liverpool. I shall depend on your writing to me again,
but you must not depend on seeing me. I may probably
go for a week to the neighbourhood of Richmond : and,
after all, the heat, the dust, the smoke, the closeness, and
the stenches of London, at this season of the year, are not
so oppressive to me as to those whom nature or fashion
has moulded of a more delicate texture. The truth indeed
is, that, though I reside in London, I spend most of my
evenings in its environs ; sometimes at my brother's, some-
times on the banks of the Thames, and now and then at
Kensington ; and for my mornings, I pass them in the
enjoyment of my newly acquired liberty. Instead of law-
books and Chanceiy pleadings, I read and write just what
I please. I am still devouring Mitford with unabated
pleasure, and, that it may last the longer, I often consult
his authorities, and am led away from him, for hoars
together, by the narrative of Pausanias and the charming
simplicity of Herodotus. I have been writing, too, a great
deal,^ and I cannot discover that want of exercise hte had
that sensible effect upon my style which you prophesied
that it would ; but, perhaps, together with the faculty of
writing, I have lost that of judging ; or, which is more
probable, perhaps I never possessed those merits which
you were apprehensive I should lose. But when I see
you, you shall decide ; and yet, what I have been writing
is hardly likely to afford you much pleasure, since even in
myself, with all an author's partiality, it has produced very
mixed sensations. Have you ever read any of Charlotte
Smith's novels? If not, get them at your circulating
library. No doubt they have them ; for, as she is either a
native, or at least has been long resident in Sussex, her
reputation there is even higher than in other parts of H^e
kingdom. They will give you great pleasure, and are just

^ Probably the first part of the Narrative of hu own Life, which
is dated 16th August, 1796.

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suited to your present medicinal course of study. I forget
the names of all of them but the Old Manor Houscy and
Eihelindoty which are two of the best

What do you think of Drouet's escape, and of the letters
which he h»& written to the Five Hundred and to the
public ? If such facts as have appeared in the course of
the French Revolution were to be found in Herodotus,
they would be set to the account only of his credulity and
his love of the marvellous.

Cura ut valeas, et ut ad nos firmus ac valens quam
primum venias.

Saml. Romilly.

Letter CVIII.

FROM M. DUMONT.

Worthing. 29 Adut. 1796.

Je suis plus content de Worthing, mon cher Romilly,
que je ne r6tois dans les premiers jours. Je m'6tois ex-
ag^r6 le bruit et la foule, parceque je m'attendois a une
esp^ce de retraite ignoree. II y a des environs fort agr6-
ables, et on pent varier ses promenades dans quatre ou
cinq milles, de maniere k d6jeiiner ou dtner tons les jours
de la semaine dans quelque endroit different. Je resterai
seul d^s Samedi matin ; si vous gtes tent6 de venir, en sup-
posant le temps beau, et nul sacrifice de votre part de
quelque soci6t6 aimable, marquez-moi le jour, et vous me
trouverez k Steyning, k htdt milles d'ici, oil Ton quitte la

Letter CVHI.

Worthmg, August 29, 1796.

I like Worthing better, my dear Romilly, than I did at first.
I had fancied the noise and tlie crowd greater than they really are,
because I had expected to find a kind of secluded retreat The
neighbourhood is very agreeable^ and one may vary one's excursions
for four or five miles round, so as to breakfast or dine every day of
the week in a difierent spot. I shall be alone after Saturday morn-
ing, and if you should be tempted to come, assuming the weather to
be fine, and no pleasant party to give up, let me know the day, and
you will find me at Steyning, eight miles from hence^ where you

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diligence, et oii Ton prend une chaise de poste. Sans
doute, il ne &ut pas vivre dans la cbambre publique d'an
caf6, ni diner k une table-d'hdte ; quoique j'aime assez de
temps en temps cette vari^t^j ce n'est pas lorsque je peux
gtre t8te-&-tSte avec vous. Notre chaumi^re, im village
Yoisin, un bateau, peut-8tre une excursion plus lointaine
jusqu'ji Arundel, ou telle autre place sur les bords de la
mer, nous offrent plus de diversity qu'il n'en &ut pour un
temps si court

Apportez-moi done; je vous prie, quelque rayon de
votre miel. Je vous dirai bien fhinchement mon avis sur
sa saveur et le goiit du terroir. Vous n'gtes pas dans T^e
des pertes ; mais quand je pense que Rousseau et Boffon,
apr^s plusieurs volumes admires, sentoient encore eux-
memes leur progr&i, je suis jaloux pour vous de tout ce
qui vous retarde dans une carri^re oii vous pouvez aller si
loin.

^< Quotque in flore novo pomis se fertiliB arbos
Induerat, totidem autmnno matura tenebat."

Quoique mon 6criture soit si mauvaise, ne Tattribuez pas
k une main foible et tremblante; je n'ai pour pupitre
qu'un livre appuy6 sur le dossier d'une chaise. Je me

leave the coach and take a chaise. Of course, we must not live in
the coffee-room, nor dme at a public table ; although I like this well
enough for a change now and then, it irnot when I can be alone
with yon. Our cottage, a neighbouring village, a boat, and now
and then a more distant excursion to Arundel, or some other such
place by the sea-side, will afford us more variety than we shall want
for so short a time.

Bring me, then, I beg of yon, a sample of your honey. I will tell
you frankly my opinion of its flavour, and of the garden in which it
is produced. You are not in the age of decline ; but when I think
that Rousseau and Buffon, after several popular volumes, were
conscious that they were still gaining ground,^ I am jealous of all
^at keeps you baick iu a career in which you may rise so high.

" Quotque in flore novo pomis se fertilis arbos
Induerat, totidem autumno matura tenebat"

Although my writing is so bad, do not suppose that my hand is
weak and trembling : my only desk is a book supported on the back
of a chair. I am better in all respects ; good nights, good appetite.

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troave mieux k tous ^gards ; bon 8ommeil» bon app6tit, et
surtout bonne digestion, a tel point que, si nous avions en-
core deux mois de chaleur, je suis per8aad6 que je serois
tout-a-fait r^tabli. Adieu, mon cher Romilly. Je ne me
suis pas encore livr6 d I'esp^rance de vous voir icii et je ne
le Youdrois pas au d^pens de vos plus 16geres convenances.

Tout k vous,

Et.D.

Letter CIX.
to m. dumont.

Dear Dumont, September 6, 1796,

But for your letter, I should have been, soon after the
time when you receive this, at Worthing ; your unexpected
visiter, of course, immediately put an end to my plan. I
have, however, little regret at it, for I had before given up
the idea of passing a week or a fortnight with you in the
friendly tHe-h-tite which I had once promised myself, and
my principal intention in visiting Worthing was to prevail
on you to quit it

I shall very much enjoy the parly you propose. With
respect to going to Bowood, I have not yet come to an ab-
solute determination.^ I intended to go, but the meeting
of Parliament, which is certainly to be on the 27th of this
month, quite deranges my plan. Lord Lansdowne will
probably be in town ; and indeed I intend to be, myself, in
town at that time, and to be as constant an attendant in the
gallery as I used to be before I was induced to sacrifice my
love of politics and eloquence to my love of money.

Yours ever,

S. R.

and aboye all good digestion ; so much so, that, if we have two
more months of warm weather, I am persuaded I shall be quite well
again. Farewell, my dear Romilly. I have not yet given way to
the hope of seeing you here, and I would not wiih it if it were in
the least inconvenient to you.

Yours, &c. Ex. D.

* See infrh, Political Diary, Sept 8, 1817.

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Letter CX.

TO MR. ROOET.i

My dear Peter, Haatmgs, Sept. 12, 1797.

I have for some time intended to write to you, but I
have been so much occupied by business during these last
two months, that till very lately I have never had half an
hour which I could dispose of quite as I pleased. It would
give me very great pleasure to entertain a regular cor-
respondence with you; though, as your mother knows,
mine is a correspondence in which I give but little and
require a great deaL The time, however, is, I hope, now
not veiy distant when there wiQ be a better intercourse
between us than can be kept up by letters ; when we shall
see one another very often, and be connected, not merely
by relationship and by warm affection, but by a most
intimate and familiar friendship. I have heard lately from
several persons of your application, and of the success of
your studies ; and it has given me great pleasure, but a
pleasure not wholly unmixed with anxiety. I am afiraid
of your prosecuting your studies with more ardour and
perseverance than your strength will allow of. I need not,
certainly, impress on your mind the value of life and
health, not on your own account alone, but for the sake of
those who are most dear to you. But you really should
consider that it is with respect to knowledge as with many
other things ; by attempting to get too much we often lose
instead of gaining, and a fortnight of too close occupation
may make all study impossible for many weeks and months
that may follow it I have experienced this myself, when
I was nearly of your age, and have been obliged to ex-
piate, by several tedious months of languor and constrained
idleness, the imprudent exertions which had exceeded my
strength. You ought to reflect that relaxation is to the

^ Now Dr. Roget, his nephew, who was then studying medicine
at Edinburgh.

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Jan. 1798. M. DUMONT, EXa 395

full as necessary as study to your success ; and that the
time which appears to be thrown away is really, even with
respect to the advancement of your studies, time most pro-
fitably employed. I am at this moment puttrog in practice
the doctrine I inculcate, for my only occupation here is to
ride about the country, to enjoy the sea-air, and to read
books of amusement. I regret that your mother, in her
rambles about England, never found out this spot. I think
it would have exactly suited her. The town itself indeed
has nothing to recommend it, nor yet much that can be ob-
jected to it : but the country about it is one of the richest,
and one that affords the greatest variety of beautiful views,
of any that I have seen in England ; and it possesses in a
very eminent degree that which is unfortunately almost .
peculiar to England, a general appearance of prosperity, /
comfort, and content I have been here about a fortnight,
and am going from hence, with M. Dumont, along the
coast as far as Chichester, and from thence to Bowood.

Remember me very affectionately to my sister and to
Nannette, and believe me to be

Most affectionately yours,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter CXI.

FROM M. DUMONT.

Kendngton. 6 Jan. 1798.

Je n'essaye pas, mon cher Romilly, de vous dire tout
ce que j'eprouve dans le sentiment de votre bonheur :^ ce
que je puis vous pr6dire d'aprds la connoissance de votre
cceur, c'est qu'il augmentera encore, quoique peut-etre

Lettbb CXI.

; Kensington, January 6, 1798.
I will not attempt, my dear Romilly, to tell you aU I fee],
when I think of your happiness ;^ but I may venture to predict,
knowing your heart as I do, that you have still greater happiness in

^ His marriage with Anne, eldest daughter of Francis Garbett,
Esq., and Elizabeth Walsham, of Knill Court, Herefordshire, which
took place on the dd of January, 1798.

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396 CORRESPONDENCE VfTm Jan;

aujourdliai vous ne croyez pas cette augmentation possible.
Vous 6te8 dans an tumulte de sentimens qui, en se cal-
mant par degr^s, vous laissera plus propre k connottre, a
gouter tons les cbarmes de votre nouvelle existence. Je
vous attends k deux ans d*ici pour faire honneor k la
justesse de mon discemement.

Nos amis, avee lesquels j'avois anticip6 votre confidence,
et vos raisons pour ne pas la faire vous-mSme, quoique ce
tat d^j'l il y a quinze jours le secret de tout le monde,
m'avoient fait toutes les questions que Tamiti^ pent sug-
g6rer en pareille occurrence.

Si vous aviez pr6vu les questions auxquelles j'ai k r6-
pondre, vous auriez sans doute ajout6 deux ou trois Lignes
k votre lettre sur le temps de votre retour, sur vos arrange-
mens, si vous prenez maison cet hiver, si ... si .... : tout
cela veut dire au fond qu'on est tr^s-impatient et trds-
curieux de voir la personne qui vous a fait passer sous
le joug, parcequ'on salt bien, avec les sentiments qu'on
a pour vous, que cela n'a pas pu se faire avec un m^rite
commun.

A present, mon cher Romilly, je me recommande a vous
aupr^s de M. Garbett et de sa famille ; 11 &ut qu'il me

store, although you may not now perhaps think this possible. When
the first tumult of emotion has gradually subsided, you will be
better able to know and feel all &e charms of your new life. I
give you two yeaz» to do justice to the accuracy of my diacem-
ment.

Our friends, to whom I had already confided your secret, a» well
as your reasons for not having communicated it to them yourself,
(although, for a fortnight, it had been no secret to any one,) beset
me with every question which friendship can suggest on such an
occasion. If you had foreseen all the inquiries I have to satisfy,
you would no doubt have added two or three lines to your letter,
respecting the time of your return, your plans, whether you take a

house this winter, whether , whether— — ; all which means,

that there is great impatience and gieat curiosity to see the person
who has made you pass under the yoke, because, firom what we know
of you, we are well aware that it is no common merit which could
have brought about such an event.

And now, my dear Romilly, I commend myself, through you, to
Mr. Garbett and his family ; I trust to you to secure for me some

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1798; M. DUMONT, ETC. 397

revienne qaelque chose de leur amiti^ ; r^glez bien pour
mes int6rets tous ces prfilimiiiaires.

Tout k vous,

Et. Dumont.

Letter CXII.

PROM. MR. MANNERS SUTTON.*

Dear Romilly, Apethorpe,Jaii.8. 1798.

I have just read the paragraph of your marriage, and
I do most sincerely and heartily congratulate you on that
event. I am extremely glad on every account that you
have taken this step ; amongst many other reasons, I am
sure it will contribute most essentially to your own happi-
ness, and I think it must create a new interest in your
mind in the situation of public affairs, and in some way or
other give the country the advantage of an understanding
which I never thought much inferior to that of the ablest
man in it.

I beg you will give my respects to Mrs. Romilly, and
believe me with great regard

Yours very sincerely,

Thomas Manners Sutton.

Letter CXIII.

TO MADAME G

Linoola's Inn, Feb. 19, 1798.

You have sometimes reproached me for not speaking
more of myself than I usually do in my letters ; my excuse
has been that, in a life of so even a tenor as mine, no event
ever occurred worth communicating to you. I have not
that excuse, however, at present ; for since I last wrote to

portion of their friendBhipw Settle all these preliminaries to my
advantage.

Yours, &c. Et. Dumont.

^ Afterwards Lord Manners.

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398 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Aug.

you, an event no less important has taken place than that
of my marriage. I remember telling you some time ago
that I was unmarried, and likely to remain so ; but I did
not at that time know that such a woman as I have now
the supreme happiness of having for my wife existed.
You will naturally wish to have some account of her, but
really I am unfit to give you that account. Were I to speak
of her only as she appears to me, you would imagine I was
exercising my talents in drawing the model of female per-
fection rather than describing a person who really exists.
How happy should I be if uncontroulable circumstances
had not placed us at so great a distance from each other ;
and if I could make intimately acquainted persons who are
so formed to enjoy each other's society as you and my dear
Anne!

S. R.

Letter CXIV.

TO THE SAME.

August 21, 1799.

Can you really have supposed that a natural effect of
happiness was to make one forget one*s best friends ? In-
deed the effect of it has been very different on me. Since
I have been blessed with my dear Anne I have thought
of you even more frequently than I did before. I have
often talked with her about you, your affectionate husband,
and your excellent mother; and we have together fre-
quently lamented that we are separated frOm you by so
great a distance, and by other obstacles far more insur-
mountable than distance.

My time has, during the last winter and spring, been
more engrossed by my business than ever; and, in addi-
tion to my usual occupations, two of my hours in every
morning have been occupied with military exercises, which
are now with us become the business of everybody. For-
tunately, I have now at last a little leisure ; and we are en-
joying it by the sea-side, in a most delightful country, and
with the finest weather imaginable.

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1798. M. DUMONT. ETC. 399

I return you thanks for M. Corancez'sbook.^ I cannot
however but say that I was disappointed to find from a
person who had frequently conversed with Rousseau for so
many of the last years of his life little more than anecdotes
of his frenzy. When one recollects the two or three traits
of Rousseau which M. de St. Pierre has related, one cannot
but wish that he had seen him oftener instead of M. Coran-
cez. It makes one's heart bleed to think what Rousseau
must have suffered in the latter part of his life ; and yet
those sufferings were mild compared with what he must
have experienced if he could have foreseen the events
which have since happened, the horrors which have been
committed by his pretended disciples, and the calamities
which have befallen the countries which of all others were
dearest to him.

I wish our literature had produced anything worth
sending you, or worth giving an account of ; but for a
long time nothing has appeared of any considerable merit
Coxe's MemoirB of Sir Robert Walpole have been pub*
lished ; but they seem to have disappointed everybody,
although the expectations which they had raised were not
very great.

You will be kind enough, I hope, not to lose any oppor-
tunity of letting me hear news of you ; and that you will
not with very scrupulous exactness wait for a letter from
me before you let me hear from you. My dear Anne joins
in the wishes that I form for the health and happiness of
yourself and your family.

I am yours,

S. R.

^ Corancez was one of the editors of the Journal de Parity from
1777 to 1790 ; and the work here alluded to was principally ex-
tracted from that Journal.

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Lettek CXV.

FROM M. DUMONT.
" < HastingB, 4 AoAi, 1799.

VouB avez done vu M. et Mad«. G . Je prends

part k toutes vos joies mutuelles ; grande impatience de
toutes parts, grande curiosity k satisfaire. Je serois bien
tromp^ si Tamiti^ des deux dames n'dgaloit bientdt celle
des deux amis. Dites-moi \k, en confessional, si vous
n'avez pas eu un mouvement d'orgueil, apr^s tous les

autres II faudroit certes, comme disoit Mirabeau,

que vous fussiez plus ou moins qu'un hommepour ne pas
r^prouver ; mais on ne d^mSle pas cela dans Pagr&ible
confusion de sentimens qu'occasionne une telle entrevue.
Je serai curieux de voir le mari et la femme aprds leur
B^jour dans le centre de cette revolution. lis ont diL vous
communiquer bien des anecdotes int^ressantes ; mais est-
il possible de vivre si longtemps au milieu de tant de pas-
sions d^chain^es sans en prendre soi-mSme ? II me semble
qu'on ne pent pas venir de Paris avec une Sme calme
et mod6r6e. Ce ne seroit pas mSme un fort bon signe,
que de voir avec moderation les actes et les acteurs de ce
theatre.

Letter CXV.

Hasting^ Aug. 4, 1799.

So jou have seen Mr. and Mrs. G . I take part in your

mutual joy. Great impatience on both sides; great curiosity to sar
tisfy ! I am much mistaken if the friendship of the two ladiea does
not soon equal that of the two friends. Now, confess to me, in con-
fidence : had you not a feeling of pride, after every other? In truth,
you must have been more or less than man, as Mirabeau used to say,
if you had not ; but it is not easy to distinguish it in the agreeable
confusion of feelings occasioned by such an interview.

I shidl be curious to see the husband and wife after their abode in
the centre of the revolution. They must have told you many inter-
esting anecdotes. But is it possible to have lived so long in the naidst
of so many unbridled passions and to have escaped the contagion f
I can scarcely conceive any one coming from Paris with a calm and
sober mind : indeed it would not be a very good sign to view with
moderation the acts and actors on that theatre.

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Un petit mot k I'oreille de Mad*. Romilly pour William :
c'est d'6ducatioD que nous parlous ensemble, et nous anti-
cipons un peu. Je viens de lire, ou plutot de relire, ce
Sandford et Merion, danslequel j'ai trouv6 beaucoup d'es-
prit, de talent, de Tart de d^velopper les id6es, de les pre-
parer, de les faire entrer dans une jeune tSte ; mais ne
trouvez-vous pas k cet ouvrage le d^faut d'etre une satire,
et de Jeter une espSce d'odieux sur les rangs plus 61ev^ de
la society, de donner constamment le beau r61e au petit
fermier, et le mauvais au petit gentleman ? et ce contraste
continuel entre les deux est-il sans danger ? On conviendra
qu'il ne seroit pas trop bon entre les mains des petits fer-
miers ; je conviendrai qu'il seroit moins mauvais entre les
msdns des petits gentlemen exclusivement, mais je crois
encore que cette satire, cette sauce piquante, est de trop
dans rinstruction, et j 'opine pour que William ne le Use
pas avant I'aige de quinze ans.

Tout ^ vous,

Et. Dumont.

Letter CXVI.
to madame g

KnfU Court, Sept. 4. 1799.

The letter. Madam, which my dear Anne wrote to

you last Saturday, and mine to Mr. G , were directed

to Arundel Street, and may therefore possibly have mis-
One word in Mrs. Romilly's ear about William. The subject is
education, and a little premature. I have just been reading, tot the
second time, Sandford and Merton, in which I find a good deal of cle-
verness, of talent, of the art of developing ideas, of preparing them, and
of introducing them into the minds of children. But does not this
work appear to you to have the fault of being a satire, and of throw-
ing a sort of odium upon the higher rac^ of society, by always
making the little farmer play the good part, and the little gentleman
the bad one ? and is this perpetual contrast between the two without
danger ? Every one will admit that it would not be a very good •
book for little farmers ; I allow that it would do less harm in the
hands of little gentlemen, but I still think that this satire, this high
seasoning, education would be better without, and my advice is,
that William should not read it till he is fifteen years old.

Yoins, &c. &c.

Et. Dumont.
VOL. I. .2d

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carried. I send this therefore to your new residence, for
it would he great injustice to ourselves, as well as to you,
to suffer you to entertain the idea that this heautifiil coun-
try, even with all its charms, can so soon have made us
forget the pleasure which your company afforded us. As
you say nothing of your sweet children, I conclude that
they are both in good health. Our little William improves
every day. He walks about, laughs, and is as happy as his
little means of happiness will allow him to be. Every
body that sees him is surprised that so healthy and strong
a child should have been nursed in London.

Your La Harpe affords me great entertainment ; though
I have not yet got to that which I guess to be the most
entertaining part of his works — his criticisms on modem
authors. He has certainly a great deal of taste, his ob-
servations are generally just, his illustrations are new, and
he is always amusing. It is remarkable, however, how
much afraid he seems of ever going alone. He is conti-
nually a critic upon other critics ; and. he seldom judges
of one author but through the medium of another. He
gives his own opinion on dramatic poetry, on the sublime,
and on oratory, in -the form of a review of Aristotle's
PoeticSy Longinus's Treatise^ Quinctilian's Insiiiuttons^
and Cicero's Dialogue. To praise Homer he finds it ne-
cessary to refute Lamotte ; to defend Sophocles he attacks
Voltaire ; and to explain his own opinion of Horace and
Juvenal he undertakes to show how much Dusaulx had
mistaken the characters of both those satirists. He seems
to me like a man who had long followed the business of a
reviewer of new publications, and who could not suffi-
ciently divest himself of the habits of his past life, when
he set about a great work, which required to be treated
upon general principles and with method. The disposi-
tion of his work appears to me to be made in defiance of
all order. He begins with dramatic poetry ; then proceeds
to the sublime ; next to a comparison of the French and
ancient languages ; then to epic poetry ; then to dramatic.
The division of the work between the ancients and mo-
derns appears to me to be most injudicious, since he must
necessarily, in both parts of it, have to compare the mo-
derns and ancients together. I will not, however, tire you

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Sept. 180e» M. DUMONT, ETC. 4q3

with my observations ; I should rather say, I will not tire
you any longer with them ; but will thank you again for the
great pleasure which the book has afforded me. Indeed
you can hardly think what pleasure, after the drudgery of
the last winter and spring, I have in passing a few days
just as I like; in reading what I please; in walking
when I please; in strolling about, or taking a ride with
my dear Anne ; in carrying about my little William ; and
in laughing only because he shakes his little sides with
laughter.

Yours, &c.

S. R.

Letter CXVII.

TO THE SAME.

Cowes, Sept. 29, 1800.

I am afraid you will both carry away a much less
favourable opinion of this country than you brought into
it, but I think you have seen it under disadvantages ; and
though I believe that many things are altered among us
for the worse since the French revolution, which has had
a most important effect on the whole nation, yet I
really do not believe that our national character is so
much changed as Mr. G. seems to think it. I must own,,
however, that what is now going forward in almost every
part of the kingdom is not calculated to give a favourable
opinion of the wisdom of my countrymen. Never, to be
sure, were there such temptations held out to riot and in-
surrection as the resolutions which, in consequence of the
late riots, have been entered into in different parts of the
country respecting the price of provisions. London is
almost the only place in which the rioters have not been
triumphant; everywhere else, although the riots have
been stopped by an armed force, yet the price of pro-
visions has for a moment been lowered ; the rioters have
consequently carried their point ; and the success of one
commotion has constantly produced others in other places.
Nothing can be more foolish than the expedients which
have been adopted for lowering the price of provisions :
they are such, indeed, as will probably produce that effect

2d2

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404 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Sept 1800.

for a short time (I believe a very short one), but as must
of necessity greatly increase them hereafter. The eflPect
thus produced, while it lasts, will be naturally attributed
by the rioters to their exertions ; they will feel the ne-
cessity of interposing their authority again, and will con-
sider a fresh violation of the law as an act of patriotism
and a public duty. I have so little doubt of this effect
being produced, and of fresh riots breaking out, that I
should really think the state of the country most alarm-
ing, if the number of armed volunteers that are spread
throughout it did not make it impossible that any com-
motions, in which only the lowest part of the community
takes part, should be carried to any formidable length.
The poor misguided wretches who engage in these riots
are greatly to be pitied. They feel the scarcity and the
high price of the necessaries of life most severely ; great
pains have been taken by persons in high authority to
persuade them that what they suffer is not to be ascribed
to those natural causes which were obvious to their
senses, but to the frauds and rapaciousness of the dealers
in provisions. They are told that there are severe laws
in force against these crimes, and yet that the crimes are
everywhere committed: it is clear, therefore, that no
justice is done for the people till they do it for themselves.
Then indeed resolutions are entered into, which the per-
sons who make them admit to have been necessary, but
which they never thought of 'entering into while they
only saw their poor neighbours starving around them, and
till the moment arrived when their own bams were about
to be burnt, and their houses to be pulled down over their
heads. Certainly a poor man, who, actuated by such con-
siderations, has the courage to expose himself and his
family to ruin for the public good, acts most meritoriously,
though the men who have contributed most to mislead
him will be the first to send him without pity to the gal-
lows. To this very moment I cannot find that the least
attempt has been anywhere made to undeceive the people ;
but, on the contrary, an opinion the most repugnant to
common sense, that is, that provisions of all kinds bear a
higher price than the persons who deal in them can well

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Jan. 1802. M. DUMONT, ETC. 495

afford to sell them at, is, without the least inquiry upon
the subject, everywhere acted upon as an established
truth.

Yours, &C.

S. R.

Letter CXVIIL
to m. dumont.

Dear Dumont, Saturaay, Jan. 9, 1862.

A thousand thanks for your letters; next to the
pleasure of being at Paris, and comparing with one's own
eyes the Paris of to-day with that which existed before
the Revolution, is that of receiving such interesting
details. ^

I am extremely rejoiced to hear that you and Bentham
are about to make your appearance in public so .soon. It
is very entertaining to hear Bentham speak of it. He
says that he is very impatient to see the book,* because
he has a great curiosity to know what his own opinions
are upon the subjects you treat of. The truth I believe
is, that he has a great curiosity to read these opinions in
print ; for when you gave them to him in manuscript, he
had so little curiosity that I believe he read very little of
them. He says that he thought what he read very in-
sipid, principally because there was nothing new or strik-
ing in the expressions. This, however, was not said to
me, and was so confidential that he would exclaim against
a double treachery if he knew that I told you of it.

Have you yet seen Dugald Stewart's Life of Robertson f
It is well done, but inferior to the Ltfe of Adam Smith.
The most interesting part of it consists of the Letters^
particularly those of Hume. The sincerity and cordiaHty
with which he interests himself about the writings, and
rejoices in the success of a contemporary and rival his-
torian, do him the greatest honour. If Dugald Stew-

* Traith de Ldgisiaiion Cwite et Penate, which was shortly after-
wards published at Paris.

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406 CORRESPONDENCE WITH M. DUMONT, ETC. Jan. 1802.

art's book be a good criterion by which to judge of the
spirit which at present prevails at Edinburgh, it must be
more intolerant than ever. Our friend thinks it neces-
sary, upon most of the subjects which he incidentally
mentions, to say that he would not be understood to adopt
the opinions which he relates; and he has carried his
caution so far as to suppress some letters, which were ex-
tremely characteristic of the writers of them, because he
thought they might scandalize his pious and loyal coun-
trymen. Amongst others, one that I have seen, in which
Hume, after reproaching Robertson for speaking without
disapprobation of some enormities which were committed
by the Scotch Reformers, concludes with saying, "But
I see you are a good Christian and a Whig, and I am
therefore your very humble servant, David Hume."

I have read with very great pleasure the papers you left
with me ; they are extremely interesting, and seem to me
new, though I believe that there is very little in them that
I had not heard from you in conversation.
Ever and most sincerely yours,

Saml. Romillt.

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DIARY

A JOURNEY TO PARIS IN 1802.

Aug. 90, 1802. Left London on a journey to Paris.

Sept, 3. We passed through Abbeville, where we found
most of the large houses shut up, and the streets full of
beggars. The cause, we were told, was, that the woollen
manufactures, which had once flourished .so much at this
place, were totally ruined.

Sept 4. Slept at Chantilly. The magnificent castle at
Chantilly is a heap of ruins, and its beautiful garden has
been laid waste. The stables, the private apartments in
which the Prince de Cond6 lived, and a range of buildings
erected for the Prince's servants, is all that remains of the
splendid piles of building which once constituted and
adorned this palace.

Sept. 5. Arrived at Paris. The rooms which had been
taken for us were in the Hdtel de Courlande, Place de la
Concorde, the place once known by the name of Place de
Louis XV., and afterwards Place de la Revolution. This
was the spot upon which the unfortunate Louis XVI.,
and afterwards the Queen and Mad*. Elizabeth, suffered
death ; and where, under the reign of Robespierre, daily
executions of a number of victims took place before a
gigantic statue of the Goddess of Liberty which was then
placed there, and as a sacrifice to whom so many victims
were offered up. In the last six days before the tenth
Thermidor, the Revolutionary Tribunal condemned two
hundred and thirty persons to death.

During our journey, which was entirely through a corn

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408 DIARY OF Sept.

country, we found the land everywhere cultivated ; no
waste land to be seen; but we saw no pasture and no
turnips. A number of small new farm-houses have been
built, and the condition of the middle and lower ranks of
the people seems to have been much improved. In general,
they plough with only two horses, which are yoked
a-breast : and one person alone can, by a long rein, drive
the horses and plough at the same time. We once saw a
woman alone ploughing and guiding the horses.

Sept 6. We went to Passy with Mad*. Gautier.

Sept 7. Mad*. Gautier procured for me the reading of
the original manuscript of Dr. Franklin's Life. There are
only two copies— this, and one which Dr. F. took with a ma-
chine for coppng letters, and which is in the possession of
his grandson. Franklin gave the manuscript to M. Vielkrd,
of Passy, who was guillotined during the revolution. Upon
his death it came into the hands of his daughter or grand-
daughter, Mad«. Viellard, who is the present possessor of
it. It appears evidently to be the first draught written
by Franklin ; for, in a great many places, the word ori-
ginally written is erased with a pen, and a word nearly
synonymous substituted in its place, not over the other, but
farther on, so as manifestly to show that the correction
was made at the time of the original composition. The ma-
nuscript contains a great many additions made upon a very
wide margin ; but I did not find that a single passage was
anywhere struck out. Part of the work, but not quite
half of it, has been translated into French, and from the
French re-translated into English. The Life comes down
no lower than to the year 1757.

Sept. 8. Called on Talleyrand, who received me with
great politeness. I afterwards called on Le Chevalier,
Talleyrand's secretary ; in a short conversation I had with
him, he told me that in his opinion nothing could restore
good morals and order in the country, but, as he ex-
pressed, it, *Ha roue et la religion de nos ancStres." He
knew, he said, that the English did not think so, but we
knew nothing of the people ; even Fox, with whom he
bad just had a conversation, knew nothing of them, fbr he
had said the same thing to him, and Fox bad been shocked

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1802. A JOURNEY TO PARIS. 4()g

at the idea of restoring the wheel as a punishment in
France.

We went to the Mus6e Central dea Arts, where all the
fine statues and pictures brought from Italy, from the
Netherlands, and from different parts of France, are col-
lected together: the Apollo Belvidere, the Laocoon, the
Dying Gladiator, the Torso, &c.

We dined at Mad*. Gautier's, at Passy, with Mad*. La-
voisier, the widow of the famous chemist.

Sept, 9. Mad*. Lavoisier took us to see a celebrated
picture of M. Girodet. The subject is Victory intro-
ducing the shades of Desaix, Dampierre, Marceau, Jou-
bert, and the other officers who have died in the war, to
the heroes of Ossian. The execution is, if possible, more
ridiculous than the subject. All the figures, except
Victory, and an eagle which is soaring in the sky, are
plEdnted as if seen through a mist to represent shades.
The nymphs who attend Osdan are hospitably regaling
the subordinate heroes, the private soldiers and drummers,
with the nectar of Ossian's time, good beer, in shells ; and
some of these manes of drummers and soldiers are repre-
sented as smoking their pipes, and are such burlesque
figures, that they might well have a place in Hogarth's
March to FincJUey. M. Girodet's reason for putting one
of these figures in his picture I thought a curious one.
He told us that he had placed him there (a little ugly
fellow beating a drum and smoking a pipe) to serve as a
foil to one of his heroes (I think Dampierre), who was
not much favoured in his person by nature.

Sept, 10. Gallois breakfasted with us, and afterwards
accompanied me to the Palais. At the Tribunal Criminel
I heard part of the trial of a woman accused of having
stolen some jewels and money belonging to her mistress,
upon her mistress's death; and of the brother of the
servant, who was accused of being an accomplice and a
receiver. The only part of the trial that we heard was
the speech of the counsel of the prisoners, and the sum-
ming up of the judge. The summing up was very mas-
terly; the judge recapitulated and observed upon the
evidence with great ability, and without the assistance of

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410 DIARY OF Sept.

any notes; all his observations were against the pri-
soners. It seems that it has been found that jaries very
often acquit the prisoners whom they ought to convict ;
which may account for the judge's sumjning up stron^y
against the prisoner. It is said that the frequent acquit-
t^s prevent witnesses from giving their testimony. They
foresee that, notwithstanding whatever they may depose,
the accused will be acquitted, and that by their evidence
they will only have provoked the vengeance of a despe-
rate villain, who is shortly to be turned loose upon the
public.

The juries are required to decide, not upon the single
question, guilty or not guilty, but upon a series of ques-
tions unnecessarily numerous.

In the court in which the criminal tribunal is held are
the busts of Brutus and of J. J. Rousseau. There are also
two unoccupied stands for busts, on which were formerly
placed those of Marat and Le Peletier St. Fargeau.

I afterwards went to the Tribunal de Cassation^ the
Tribunal de Premiere Insiance, and the Tribunal de Po-
lice Correctionnelle. Dined at Mad*. G.'s with CaxniUe
Jourdan, Portalis, (the son of the minister, and who is to
go as secretary to General Andr^ossi in his embassy to
England,) and Girodet.

Sept. 11. Attended again at the Tribunal Crindnel;
six men were tried together for forgery. There was no
jury. The trial by jury for the Crimen faUi, and like-
wise for the crimes of setting fire to barns of com, &c.,
was taken away by a law made last May, or Florial. Till
then, crimes of this description were tried by what was
called a special jury, consisting partly of persons who by
their profession were most likely to understand the sub-
ject (a sort of experte). The reasons given for super-
seding juries, as to these crimes, were, that the crimes had
become very common, were extremely dangerous to so-
ciety, and ought to be suppressed without delay. But,
in truth, all crimes ought to be suppressed as speedily as
possible, and if the trial by jury does not tend to the due
execution of justice, and consequently to the prevention
of crimes, the trial by jury ought to be abolished univer-

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1802. A JOURNEY TO PARIS. 411

Bally. The men I saw tried were, according to the last
law, tried by six judges; their judgment must be unani-
mous to condemn.

After every witness was examined, an examination took
place of the prisoners by the judge^. This would have
much shocked most Englishmen, who have very super-
stitious notions of the rights and privileges of the persons
accused of crimes. It should seem, however, if the great
object of all trials be to discover the truth, to punish the
guilty, and to afford security to the innocent, that the
examination of the accused is the most important and an
indispensable part of every trial. I observed one ob-
jection to it, however; which is, that the judges often
endeavour to show their ability and to gain the admir-
ation of the audience by their mode of cross-examining
the prisoners. This necessarily makes them, as it were,
parties, and gives them an interest to convict. They be-
come advocates against the prisoners; a prisoner who
should foil the judge by his mode of answering his ques-
tions, particularly if by that means he should raise a
laugh from the audience, would have little chance of
obtaining a judgment from him in his favour.

Having heard a sentence of a man who was to be ex-
ecuted at the Place de Grh>e cried about the streets, I
walked thither. The scaffold was erected, and the guil-
lotine ready ; a great crowd of persons were assembled,
principally women. The ideas which the guillotine must
awaken in every body's mind naturally render it an
object of horror : but, independently of those ideas, the
large slanting axe ; the hole through which the neck of
the sufferer is placed, smeared round of a different colour,
and seeming to be yet stained with the blood of former
malefactors ; the basket placed to receive the head, and
the large wicker chest in which the body is afterwards
thrown, render it altogeUier a most hideous instrument
of death. It seems to answer very well the idea of Mon-
taigne, who I think somewhere recommends, as the most
proper public punishments, those which make the strongest
impression on the spectators, but inflict the least pain
upon the malefactor. From the Place de Gr^ve I walked

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412 DIARY OP Sept.

back towards the Palais; and I there saw the prisoner
brought out to be led to the place of execution. A small
party of dragoons attended him : he was placed in a cart,
his body naked, with a red cloak (or, according to the
terms of the law, une chemise rouge) tied round his neck
and hanging loose over his shoulders. He had been con-
victed of a murder and robbery.

On all the public buildings at Paris are inscribed the
words, Unitit Indivtsibiliii de la RSpublique, LibertS,
EgcUiti, Pratemiti: the words "om la mart'* followed
in all these inscriptions, but are now effaced ; and in
some places the words Justice, Humaniti, are substituted
in their place. Under one of the windows of the Louvre
an inscription was placed during the reign of Robespierre
to commemorate that it was from that window that Charles
IX. fired upon the people. This inscription too is now
effaced. Upon the Chiteau of the Tuileries, next the
Place de Carousel, are the marks of the cannon-balls fired
on the fiunous 10th of August, and over each of those
marks is an inscription still remaining, 10 Aoikt, 1792.

We went this morning to the Petits Augusdns, where
are collected the monuments out of most of the churches
of France, the remains of the Vandalisme (as it is called)
which prevailed during the most extravagant times of the
republic. The inscription upon the monument of LeBrun,
the famous painter, may give some idea of the folly and
extravagance of those supposed republicans. The words
tfi italics have been struck out with a chisel, and the rest
of the inscription was suffered to remain. ** A la M6moire
de Charles Le Brun, Ecuyer, Sieur de ThionviHe, premier
Peintre du Roi, Directeur des Manufactures Royales des
Gobelins, Directeur Chancelier de VAcadimie Royale de
Peinture et de Sculpture. Son g6nie vaste et sup6riear le
mit en peu de temps au-dessus de tous les peintres de son
siecle. Ce fut lui qui forma la 661dbre Academic de
Peinture et de Sculpture que Louis le Grand a depuis
honor6e de sa Royale protection, &c. &c., pour marque
6temelle de son m6rite. Louis le Grand le fit son premier
peintre, lui donna des lettres authentiques de noblesse^ et
la combla de ses bien&its, &c. &c."

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1802. A JOURNEY TO PAAIS. 413

We dined at home, went afterwards to the Theatre de
la Rue FeydeaUi and then to Mad^ Lavoisier. We met
there a party of ahout a dozen persons ; amongst others,
the Ahb^ Morellet, MM. Suard, Barb6 Marbois, one of
the ministers (ministre du Tr6sor National), Dupont, Gal-
lois, Girodet the painter, M. and Mad*, de Souza (formerly-
Mad*, de Flahault). The conversation was very pleasant,
and principally literary; not a word of politics: this,
however, seemed to proceed rather from indifference than
from caution.

Sept. 13. I called with Gallois upon the Abb6 Morellet,
Suard, and Baert We went to the Panorama of Lyons,
and Mad*. Delhi's manufactory of china, formerly called
the AngoulSme manufactory, and afterwards to the Prison
of the Temple.

Went to the Opera Buffa. " 11 Barbiere di Seviglia."

Sept 14. Dined at home. Erskine and his son dined
with us.

Went after dinner to the Opera, to the first repre-
sentation of " Tamerlan." We saw there General Moreau,
Cambac^res, Mad*. Tallien, Mad*. Recamier, &c. &c. We
were going the next day into the country, and, to give
our horses some rest, we had a hackney coach brought to
take us home from the Opera. The consequence of this
was, that, though we quitted our box before the last dance
was over, we were obliged to wait till almost everybody
else was gone before we could get away. Every gentle-
man's carriage (no matter in what order they stood) had
precedence over our contemptible hackney coach ; and we
waited three quarters of an hour while the numerous car-
riages of the politer part of the audi^ice drove up and
carried off their company. I could not but think this a
singular order of police, enforced as it is by dragoons and
foot-soldiers, in a city where it is impossible to stir a step
without seeing the word ** Equality" displayed upon some
public building, or at the corner of a street, in conspicuous
characters.

Sept, 17. On my return from the country I found an in-
vitation from Talleyrand to dine with him to-day at his house
at Neuilly. I went there, of course, without Mrs. Romilly.

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414 DIAKY OF Sept.

A large company was assembled ; we waited a long time
for Talleyrand; soon afterwards dinner was announced.
We sat down about thirty. Among the men were Count
Cobenzl (the Austrian ambassador), the Danish ambas-
sador, General Andr^ossi, Admiral Brieux, Roederer,
Portal (a physician), and about ten or twelve Englishmen,
particularly Charles Fox, General Fitzpatrick, Lord Hol-
land, St. John, and Adair. After dinner the company
very much increased, and amongst those latter visiters
were General Boumonville and Cardinal Caprara. Tal-
leyrand received me cddly enough, with the air and
manner of a great minister^ and not of a man with whom
I once was intimate. The dinner, and the assemblage
after dinner, were so grave and solemn, that one might
have conceived one's self rather at the court of some little
German prince than in the house of a man of good society
in Paris. The dinner was one of the most stately and me-
lancholy banquets I ever was present at. I had the good for-
tune to sit next to Charles Fox, and to have a good deal of
conversation with him. But for this circumstance, I should
have found this dinner a very irksome and unpleasant
task which I had imposed on jnyself. After dinner, in
the room in which we took coffee, two young women,
dressed d FAngloisey and, as it is said, English women,
walked in and burned incense ; after staying some time
in one part of the room, they walked to another cor-
ner, still burning incense, till the whole room was per-
fumed.

Sept 18. We went by water to St. Cloud, in the hope
of being able to see the inside of the castle. Nobody is
admitted even into the outer court of this place, since it
has been determined that it is to be the habitation of the
First Consul, without producing a ticket; and, after
getting into the first court, the visiter is stopped by every
sentinel in his way, and ordered to produce his ticket, till
he gets into the palace. Into this palace, so difficult of
access, have been transported some of the finest pictures
of which the gallery of the Louvre has been despoiled, —
pictures which had long been exhibited there, which the
public of Paris have been accustomed to admire and to

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1802. A JOURNEY TO PARIS. 415

feast their eyes and their vanity upon, as part of the spoil
won from the nations with which France has heen at war.
This puhlic property is thus appropriated to adorn the
private residence of the First Consul, into which the un-
hallowed feet of the Parisian moh are not suffered to
penetrate. This, more than anything I have met with,
proves to me in what scorn Bonaparte holds the opinions
of the people. He seems to despise their favour ; and, if
he supplies them with frequent festivals, it is less to gain
popularity than to occupy and amuse them.

One can hardly pass through a street in Paris without
seeing a lottery-office, or meeting fellows offering lottery-
tickets for sale. The Constituent Assemhly aholished all
lotteries, as being destructive of the morals of the people.
Under the Directory they were restored, and they now are
encouraged and flourish to such a degree that this most
mischievous temptation to the most ruinous kind of gaming
is held out unremittingly, and almost in every village, to
the lowest class of society. Under the old government
there was only one lottery, which was drawn at Paris ;
but now there is a lottery by authority of government, not
only at Paris, but at Lyons, Strasbourg, Bordeaux, and
Brussels.

Sept, 20. Went to the Exhibition of the Productions of
the Arts at the Louvre ; afterwards to the Palais, where a
man and two women were tried for forgery; then to
Notre-Dame, and lastly to the Cabinet of Mineralogy at
the Hdtel de la Monnoye. At Notre-Dame all the cru-
cifixes and statues were removed while public worship
was prohibited, and the church was called the Temple of
Reason. In the great choir is a Mosaic pavement, with
the arms of France, the fleurs-de-lisj and a crown over
them. This was not removed, but the following inscription
is engraven upon it : — *' Sous le r^gne des lois, la liberty,
apres avoir 6cart6 tons les objets qui pouvoient blesser les
yeux r6publicains, a conserve ce pave par respect pour
les arts." Dined at home. Gallois and Bentham dined
with us. In the evening at the Theatre Frangois, Tar-
tuffe, &c.

Sept. 21. Went to the Jardin des Plantes with Mad®.

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415 DIARY OF Sept.

Gautier, Erskine, and his son. Saw the Cabinet d'Hia-
toire Naturelle, the Gardens, the Menagerie, and the
Cabinet of Anatomy of Cuvier, which Cuvier himself
showed us. Called on the Duchess de la Rochefoucauld.
Went in the evening to the Th6dtre Fran9ois — Phedre.
Mile. Duchesnois, a new actress, who has very consider-
able merit, appeared in the character of Ph6dre : the rest
very bad.

Sept 22. Went again to the Louvre to the Exhibition of
the Productions of the Arts, in the hope of seeing Bonaparte.
He was there ; and we had an opportunity of seeing him
very well, he being close to us during a pretty long con-
versation he had with Mongolfier, who explained to him a
machine he had exhibited. None of the prints of him are
very like. He has a mildness, a serenity in his counte-
nance which is very prepossessing; and none of that
sternness which is to be found in his pictures. His
painters seem rather to have wished to make the picture
of a very extraordinary man than to paint a portrait very
like him. Went with Bentham to see the hall of the legis-
lative body, which is built on what was formerly the Palais
Bourbon. The hall is very beautiful, and admirably
adapted to a country where the nominal legislature is a
mere ornament, a toy to amuse the nation with. Went in
the evening to a meeting of the National Institute — the
Class of the Sciences : Monge, president ; La Grange,
La Place, Bertholet, Cuvier, Guyton de Morveaux, Prony,
&c. A paper read of Aldani, a nephew of Galvani, on
experiments of Galvanism ; some, on the heads and bodies
of two men immediately after they had been guillotined.

Sept 23, I VendSmiaire. Anniversary of the Republic.
Talleyrand sent me word, by Charles Fox, that I might
be presented to day to the First Consul, together with
Erskine, at his levee at the Tuileries. I had been dis-
gusted at the eagerness with which the English crowded
to do homage at the new court of a usurper and a tyrant,
and I made an excuse.

The Illuminations and Fireworks. — The illuminations at
the Place de la Concorde and the Tuileries were very fine.
The illuminations of private houses were miserable. In

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1802. A JOURNEY TO PARIS. 417

England, the finest part of a public illumination consists
of the lights in the windows of private houses ; in France,
it is only in the illumination of public buildings and gar-
dens that one finds anything to admire. It is a trifling
circumstance, but it characterizes the two nations. In
France, almost all great works are undertaken by the
public ; in England, they are carried on by private pro-
jectors.

Sept, 24. Dined at Talleyrand's at Neuilly ;— a solemn
dinner, like the former, and still more numerous.

Sept. 26. Dined at Passy with M. Gamier (the trans-
lator of Adam Smith, and the present prefect of the de-
partment of the Seine and Oise), Bentham, Dumont, Lord
Henry Petty, &c.

Sept. 27. Saw the Hotel of the Invalides with M.
Treipzac, the architect, who lost a leg and was wounded
in many places by the explosion of the infernal machine,
3d Nivose. A-propos of the conspiracy of the 3d Nivose,
everybody here is firmly persuaded that it was suggested
and paid for in England. Windham is universally con-
sidered as the principal macliinator. Bonaparte spoke of
it to Charles Fox, and was astonished at Charles Fox as-
suring him that he was fiilly convinced that there was not
the least ground for the imputation.

At the Invalides, in the inscriptions under all the pic-
tures, the word ** Roi" is everywhere effaced, and no-
thing substituted in its place. *• Maestricht pris par le
." " Entree du dans la ville," &c. &c.

Sept. 28. Went to the gallery of the Museum ; met
West there, who showed us the pictures which are not
public. The Transfiguration of Raphael ; the demoniac
and his father, and a figure immediately behind him, were
left unfinished by Raphael, and were painted by Julio
Romano. The portrait of Cardinal Bentivoglio, by Van-
dyke, the finest of his portraits. West told us the pictures
were most judiciously repaired, and that no injury what-
ever was done to them by repairing them. There is not
a single picture of Salvator Rosa or of Gaspard Poussin in
the Gallery.

Sept. 29. Dined at Madame Lavoisier's, with Dupont,
VOL. I. 2 b

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418 DIARY OF Oct

Baert, Dumont, and Lord Henry Petty. Went after-
wards with Dumont and Lord H. Petty to Neuilly to
Talleyrand's. Saw Saint Foix there.

Oct 1. Went to Versailles ; breakfasted at Little Tri-
anon ; saw the castle. A miserable collection of pictures,
all of the French school.

Oct. 2. Dined at home. Went to the Th6Stre Fran-
9ois— The Cid : Lafont, in Rodrigue, received great ap-
plause, but appeared to me to be one of the worst actors J
ever saw.

Oct 3. Went to see the houses of Lucien Bonaparte,
General Murat near Neuilly, and Madame Bonaparte, the
mother. We could not help contrasting the fresh splen-
dour and magnificence of the habitations of the present
reigning femily with the tarnished grandeur and ne-
glected appearance of Versailles, the palace of the Bour-
bons in the days of their prosperity, and the ruinous cot-
tages and temples of the Little Trianon, which the last
queen had made the principal abode of her pleasures.

Oct 10. Went to the castle of Meudon and to Bellevue ;
returned to Passy. The road to St. Cloud at the bottom
of the garden at Passy was crowded for many hours with
the carriages of persons going to and returning from the
levee of the First Consul, or rather of Madame Bonaparte,
at St Cloud. We dined at Passy, and in the evening
Matthieu de Montmorency, the ex-constituent, came in.
He seems unaffected, unassuming, possessed of good sense,
and of an excellent disposition.

Oct 12. Went to the Hospice of the Enfans Trouvfe in
the Faubourg St. Jacques, formerly the Port Royal, and a
prison during the reign ot terror.

Oct 13. Went to the National Library. The Professor
Millin showed us the antiquities, and M. Dacier the
manuscripts. Among the most curious were, the fiimous
Virgil from the Vatican Library ; the Terence, which is
supposed to be of the ninth century, with a commentary
interlined ; a Latin translation of Josephus on the Egyp-
tian Papyrus, and written in the running hand of the
Romans, and said to be of the fourth century, but sup-
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1802. A JOURNEY TO PARIS. 419

posed by the best critics to be of a later date by two or
three centuries ; the letters of Henry IV. to his mistress ;
a most beautiful manuscript of Petrarch, with illumina-
tions, and a part of Dante in the same manuscript ; another
manuscript of Dante, with very curious illuminations ; the
** Heures" of Anne of Brittany, with a great variety of
plants and insects, beautifully drawn ; the " Heures" of
Louis XIV. ; the campaign of Louis XIV. ; the original
manuscript of Telemachus, in the handwriting of F6n61on,
with many interlineations and corrections, &c.

Went in the evening to M. Suard's ; met there the Abb6
Morellet, Lally Tolendal, Camllle Jourdan, &c.

Oct 14. Left Paris.

Oct, 19. Got home to Gower Street

There is at present in France the greatest abundance of
specie. All payments, except of large sums, are made in
gold and silver. Gold is scarce as compared with silver,
but not in a greater degree than it was before the revo-
lution. If a banker pays a sum in Louis-d'or, he deducts
three or two sous upon every Louis, although there has
not been, since the banning of the revolution, any coin-
age of gold. The principal part, too, of the silver that is
current consists of crowns of six livres of the old mo-
narchy. Soon after the first acts of violence which at-
tended the commencement of the revolution, gold and
silver coin became extremely scarce ; there was a general
cry, and almost a universal belief, that the coin had been
carried into foreign countries, and very strict, but very
futile, regulations were made to prevent what was thought
so great an evil. To men of reflection, it was very obvious
that the only possible cause of a scarcity which was so
sensible must be the general alarm which had spread
throughout the country, and which must have induced
most persons who were possessed of money to bury or con-
ceal it, as the only resource they could have when their
other property was gone. The creation of assignats ope-
rated in the same way, but to such a degree as to make all
coin disappear. It was obvious to everybody that a time
would come when assignats would be of no value ; every-
body therefore who was inclined to save anything saved in

2E.2

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420 DIARY OF Oct.

coin and paid in assignats. If assignats had not been
created, coin, however scarce, must have continued in
circulation. A man possessed of coin must have parted
with some of it, or must have reAised himself the neces-
saries of life ; and no future evil which he was disposed
to provide against could be greater than that of starving.
As soon as the assignats were put an end to, gold and
silver coin again immediately appeared in the very same
Louis-d*or and crowns which it was supposed had been
exported into foreign countries and melted.

The facility with which the currency of assignats was
stopped, and the perfect tranquillity which attended that
operation, is one of the most extraordinary political phe-
nomena of the revolution.

Bank-notes of the Cmsse cTEgcompte are current, but
only for large sums ; the smallest I have seen are for 500
francs.

The only silver coin there has been during the revo-
lution is of pieces of five francs, which are not very com-
mon ; there is a coinage of silver and copper mixed, con-
sisting of pieces of 30 sols and 15 sols ; and a copper
coinage of pennies ; all of which are very common. Money
is lent here at an enormous interest, as high, I have been
told, as 12 per cent, upon good security. Mortgages of
real estates of the old possessors of them produce an in-
terest of 10 per cent. ; and Government borrows money at
10 or 11 per cent., to be repaid in a few months by the
receipt from the taxes. As long as this lasts, none of their
great commercial enterprises which the French seem in
general to expect can possibly take place. What must be
the trade in which a man can afford to pay 12 per cent.
for the money he uses in it ? and who that can sit quietly
at home, dine with his friends, go to the Opera every
evening, and then to Frescati, and with all this receive 12
per cent, for his money, will devote his time, undertake
the trouble, and incur the risk of any trade ?

It is very curious to consider what France is, to recollect
what it has been during the last fourteen years, and to
speculate upon what it is likely to be. A more absolute
^oa*vr»*;a«, fhau that wWch now exists here France never

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1802. A JOURNEY TO PARIS. 421

experienced: Louis XIV. was never so independent of
public opinion as Bonaparte is : the police was never so
vigilant or so well organised. There is no freedom of dis-
cussion ; the press was never so restrained, as at present,
under Louis XIV. and XV. ; the vigilance of the police in
this respect was eluded, and books, published in other coun-
tries, containing very free opinions, were circulated at
Paris: but that is not the case now. Among other re-
straints, all English newspapers are prohibited ; and it is
said that even the foreign Ministers are not permitted to re-
ceive them by the post. An opinion is entertained, whether
with or without foundation I do not know, that persons of
character, and who mix in good society, are spies employed
by the police, and consequently that a man is hardly safe
anywhere in uttering his sentiments on public affairs. It
should seem, however, that few persons have any desire to
utter them. I have been in several societies in which there
was certainly the most perfect security, and where politics
seemed the last subject that anybody wished to talk upon.
It may seem at first very wonderful by what means Bona-
parte can maintain so absolute a power. It is not by the
army ; for if he is popular with the soldiers, it is only with
those he has commanded : he does not seem, however, to
have been ever very popular even with them. His cha-
racter is of that kind which inspires fear much more than
it conciliates affection. He is not loved by any of the per-
sons who are about him, not even by the officers who served
with him ; while Moreau is universally beloved by all who
have served with him. It is impossible to say that it is by
the force of public opinion that Bonaparte reigns : there is
certainly an opinion very universally entertained, highly fa-
vourable to his talents both as a general and as a politician :
but he is not popular ; the public have no attachment to
him ; they do not enjoy his greatness. Bonaparte seems,
indeed, to despise popularity ; he takes no pains to gain the
affections of the people. All the public works which he
sets on foot are calculated to give a high opinion of him-
self, and to immortalize his name, but not to increase the
happiness of the people, or to alleviate the sufferings of any
particular description of them. To increase the beauty and

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422 DIARY OF (M.

magnificence of the city, to build new bridges, to bring
water by a canal to Paris, to collect the finest statues and
pictures of which conquered nations have been despoiled,
to encourage and improve the fine arts, are the great ob-
jects of Bonaparte's ambition in time of peace. That he
meditates the gaining fresh laurels in war can hardly be
doubted, if the accounts which one hears of his restless and
impatient disposition be true. His literary taste may serve
to give some insight into his character : Ossian is his favour-
ite author.

When the Bastille was stormed by the mob of Paris,
there were not found in it I think more than ^ve or six
prisoners ; and to those the Bastille served as an hospital
rather than a prison ; for they were advanced in age and
without friends.— I am assured that there are, or at least
very lately were, more than seventy prisoners confined in
the Temple, the bastille of the present day ; persons of the
most adverse principles and opinions, some of them violent
Jacobins, others emigrants and aristocrats.

As persons of the most opposite opinions are subject to
persecution, so are they, as indiscriminately, objects of
favour. Fouch6, who till a few days ago was minister of
police, and was supposed to have the confidence of Bona-
parte, was at Nantes one of the most violent revolutionists,
in the very spirit, it is said, of Carrier. It is reported of
him that he used at one time to wear in his hat the ear of
an aristocrat, in the manner of ar national cockade.

What strikes a foreigner as most extraordinary at Paris
is that the de8X)0tism which prevails there, and the vexa-
tious and trifling regulations of the police, are all carried
on in the name of liberty and equality. It was to establish
liberty and equality on their true basis, according to Bona-
parte's own declaration in the legislative assembly at St.
Cloud, on the 18th Brumcdre^ that he commanded his gre-
nadiers to charge the assembly with fixed bayonets, and
obliged most of the members to seek their safety by escaping
through the windows. Liberty and equality are still
sounded as high, and displayed in as conspicuous charac-
ters, as ever. In the front of the Tuileries, one of the most
magnificent palaces of Europe, the most sumptuously far-
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1802. A JOUBNEY TO PARIS. 423

nished, filled with the finest pictures, continaally sur-
rounded with guards, and inaccessible but to those who are
connected with the First Consul, who makes it his place of
residence, is displayed the word EgalitS in large letters.
You attempt to pass through an open passage, and you are
rudely stopped by a sentinel, who, with the voice of autho-
rity, halloos out, ** On nc paase pas par ici." You turn your
bead, and for your consolation behold inscribed in charac-
ters which seem indelible— Xt^tfrte.

And has it been only for this, and in order that a num-
ber of contractors, of speculators, of persons who have
abased the military or civil authority they have possessed,
may enjoy securely their ill-gotten wealth, that rivers of
blood have been shed, that numbers of individuals, who by
their talents and acquisitions were the ornaments of one of
the most enlightened nations in the world, have perished
on the scaffold, that the most opulent families have been
reduced to misery and languished out their wretched lives
in exile? Such an excLunation is very natural. It is,
however, to all these horrors of the revolution that Bona-
parte owes his power. If public opinion is not strongly
expressed in his favour, it is strongly expressed against
everything in the revolution which has preceded his con-
sulate. The quiet despotism, which leaves everybody who
does not wish to meddle with politics (and few at present
have any such wish) in the full and secure enjoyment of
their property and of their pleasures, is a sort of paradise,
compared with the agitation, the perpetual alarms, the
scenes of infamy and of bloodshed which accompanied the
pretended liberties of France.

Bonaparte is said to entertain a very bad opinion of man-
kind, at least of the nation he governs. In consequence of
that opinion he distrusts everybody, and does everything
himself.

Almost all the French I have seen entertain a very high
opinion of Mr. Pitt, and a proportionally mean opinion of
the English opposition. They admit that Mr. Pitt did not
carry on the war with great ability, but they think that his
talents alone saved us from a revolution, such as they have
themselves experienced.

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424 COBBESFONDENCE WITH Nor.

It 18 astonishing how much the French are disposed to
refine, to account for everything that happens in an extra-
ordinary way, and to find deep design and contrivance in
the most simple transactions. There is hardly a French-
man who is not satisfied that Pitt's conduct with respect to
the skve-trade was only a trap laid for France, and into
which she unfortunately fell. I rememher to have heard
this very thing said in France in 1788, of the measures
taken in England to procure the abolition of the slave-trade.
The expedition of Quiberon was, according to this re-
fined way of thinking, undertaken with no object of suc-
ceeding in it, but merely to send to their graves all the best
naval officers that France had to boast of, and who happened
then to be emigrants and in England ; and in this point of
view it is considered as a great stroke of policy, and as one
of the adbievements which prove Pitt's great talents.

Letter CXIX.

TO MADAME O

Norember 2, 1802.

Anne's two letters from Dover and London will have
informed you, my dear Mrs. G., of our safe arrival here,
and of our having found our children perfectly well. The
contrast between France and England is not greater than
that between our present mode of existence and that which
we have lately enjoyed. From a life of gaiety, of seeing
sights, and of going into company, Anne's is become per*
fectly domestic, and she sees scarcely any but the faces of
relations ; and for myself, fiDm a life of complete idleneas,
I have passed into the midst of great business, and have the
near prospect of much more. The time, indeed, is so fast
approaching when I shall hardly have a moment which I
can call my own, that I am fearAil of suffering this season
of comparative leisure to pass without thanking you for all
your kindness to us. We are indeed indebted to you, and
your most amiable family, for almost all the enjoyment we
have had at Paris ; but what we have most reason to thank
you for is, for enabling us to know you so much better than

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1802. M. DUMONT, ETC. 425

we had done before. It was necessary to have lived with
you, to have seen you in your own house, and with your
own family, to have known all that you have gone through
and how you have gone through it, to appreciate justly all
your merit Our friendship and affection for you hardly
could increase, but at least we have now many additionsd
motives for them. I can hardly express how much I am
obliged to you for the memorial of my most excellent friend,
your husband. I had read the book often, but I have read
it again with new delight, because it was his ; and I have
been most sensibly affected by some passages which he had
marked, and particularly that in which Lselius laments
the loss of the best of friends in Scipio, and exclaims that,
although snatched away from him, yet in his memory he
still lived, and would live for ever ; and that the virtues
which he loved in him had not perished with that part of
him which was mortal. It will often be a source to me of
exquisite though melancholy pleasure.

I hope to God that a renewal of war is not at hand ; but
there does not seem much of a friendly disposition either
in your or our governors. There is no describing to you
the effect which Bonaparte's proclamation against the Swiss
has produced in this country. The language of all the
newspapers, of all parties, has been the same upon it, and
they certainly only express the indignation which has been
universally felt here. I hope, however, that our ministers
are not weak enough to mistake this for a wish on the part
of the nation to plunge into all the miseries of war ; but I
will not answer for it.

We have a work just published here by Paley, entitled
Natural Theolofry ; which, from an observation you made
when we were seeing Cuvier's cabinet, I think would afford
you great pleasure ; and I will send it to you by the first
opportunity I meet with. It is the only book worth
noticing which has been published during our absence.

I am yours, &c.

S. R.

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426 CORRESFONDEMCB WITH May.

Letter CXX.

TO M. DUMONT.

Dear Dumont, May 31, 1803.

It is vain to wait for a moment of leisure ; I may as
well write to you, therefore, now that I have not an instant
to spare as at any other time. Anne told you, I believe,
that there is no mention of you in the third number of the
Edinburgh Review. I dont think you have any reason to
be sorry, unless you think it would be of use to your book*
to have it abused. The editors seem to value themselves
principally upon their severity, and they have reviewed
some works seemingly with no other object than to show
what their powers in this particular line of criticism are.
They begin their account of Delphine with these words : —
** This dismal trash has nearly dislocated the jaws of every
critic among us with gaping." Of Fiev6e's Letters they
say, " It is some advantage to have this kind of standard of
pesntnism, to see the utmost extent to which ignorance
and petulance can go ;" and of Dugald Stewart's Life of Dr.
Robertson, which, upon the whole, they treat with compara-
tive indulgence, they say at the conclusion that a Life of
Robertson is a work yet to be written. There are, however,
many articles in the last number of g^reat merit, and it is, I
think, upon the whole, very much superior to the second
number.

Nothing has been published here since you left us, ex-
cept a pamphlet, by Lord King, on the Restriction on
Payments in Specie hy the Bank, which has great merit.
He has rendered clear and familiar a very obscure and
difficult subject I suspect that our friend Whishaw has
contributed something to the merit of the work.

I suppose you see our newspapers, and that you have
consequently read the papers which our ministers have
published as their justification for proceeding to hostilities

' Traites de Leffislation Civile et Pinah,

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1803. M. DUMONT. BTC. 427

against France. The first day's debate which took place
on the subject of them has not been published, for, owing
to a new regulation which was made respecting the ad-
mission of strangers into the gallery, none of the news-
writers were able to get in. Pitt's speech is universally
allowed to be one of the finest, if not the very finest, he
ever made. His influence and authority in the House of
Commons, shown upon the debate I have just mentioned,
and still more on the day when Fox moved that the House
should recommend the Crown to accept the mediation of
the Emperor of Russia, exceed all belief. The ministry
seem, in the House of Commons, in comparison with him,
to be persons of no account. An administration whose
talents were generally thought so meanly of, or I may say
who were so universally despised, was never before at the
head of a great country. There does not seem likely,
however, to be any great change. It is said that Tierney
is immediately to be in office, and it seems probable
enough ; but the king is supposed to object more firmly
than ever to Pitt's return into administration.

You wDl have heard, to be sure, before this that Bona-
parte, under pretence that to make captures at sea before
a formal declaration of war is contrary to the law of
nations, has made prisoners of all the English between the
ages of eighteen and sixty within the French territory.
Mr. Listen, our ambassador at the Hague, Lord Elgin,
who was at Paris on his way to London, and Mr. Talbot,
the secretary of Lord Whitworth, are said to be of the
number of persons who are not permitted to return to
England. AH the other Englishmen are made actual pri-
soners ; the men being sent to the Temple or the Concier-
gerie, and the women to Fontainebleau. If it had been
Bonaparte's object to give strength to the British ministry,
and to make the war universally popular in England, he
could not have devised a better expedient.

I have not seen Bentham for a long time ; but I under-
stand the ministry intend to propose, among other mea-
sures of finance, a tax on Successions, resembling that
which he some time ago suggested. This will, no doubt,
be not a little agreeable to him, and will probably, for a
time, divert him from his present occupation, which is,

428 CORRESPONDENCE, ETC. Ang. 1803.

I conjecture, writing on that particular question of the
Law of Evidence which has lately been discussed in our
Courts. Ever most sincerely and affectionately yours,

Saml. Romilly.

Letter CXXL

TO MADAME G .

Aogiut 9. 1803.

The uncommonly warm weather we have had lately
has made me very much enjoy the cool and refreshing
evening air at Kensington ; and now and then a vralk by
moonlight, after passing sometimes nine or ten hours of
the day in a crowded court of justice. You pity me for
not passing more of my time in this retreat, and in the
company of my dear Anne ; and I am not so dull as not to
perceive the gentle reproof which is concealed under your
pity. You think that I am sacrificing real and certain
happiness for an imaginary and uncertain good— that do-
mestic comfort which I might now enjoy, for riches and
honours which I may never live to attain. But in this
you are very unjust to me. In the course of life which I
am following, I think I am only discharging my duty;
and that the only chance I have of rendering any im-
portant service to others is, by just proceeding as I am
now doing. If I am not mistaken in this, you will admit
that I have an excuse, or rather that I do not stand in
need of excuse, for being so many hours separated from
one with whom it would be my greatest happiness to spend
every moment of my existence. Just at the present mo-
ment I am less deserving of your compassion than at any
other time. In a few days my labours will cease, and we
hope to quit London till the end of October. We shall
first pass ten days or a fortnight at Lord Lansdowne's at
Bowood— a place which I now always visit with fresh
pleasure, as it was there I first saw my dear Anne, and
every spot of that delightful abode brings to my recollec-
tion scenes which were only an earnest of that unmixed
happiness which I have ever since enjoyed. But I say
too much when I call it quite unmixed; for, though I

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1806. NARRATIVE. 429

cannot consider the irksome and laborious duties of my
profession as a real interruption of my happiness, yet it is
in truth interrupted by the reflection that in this life
everything is subject to change ; and that our condition
can hardly change but for the worse. From Bowood we
shall go into Herefordshire, into a retreat which, I think,
if you were to see it, you would say was worthy of Swit-
zerlaud.

EVENTS IN 1805.

The Chancellorship of Durham having become vacant
by the resignation of Mr. Baron Sutton, who did not think
it compatible with his situation as a judge — although it had
formerly been held by Mr. Justice Yates and Mr. Justice
Willes, after their promotion to the Bench— the Bishop of
Durham appointed me to the office. He came to me one
day below the bar in the House of Lords, after the business
I was attending on was concluded, and offered it to me
vrith many compliments more flattering than the offer
itself. Till then the Bishop had been almost a stranger to
me. I had indeed been counsel in different causes in the
Court of Chancery both for him and against him, but I
had never met him in company, and had spoken to him
only once before. The occasion of that conversation was
this : the Bishop and his friend, Mr. Bernard, were great
patrons of the Society for bettering the Condition of the
Poor, and were zealous promoters of a number of different
plans for advancing the general good of mankind ; all set
on foot with the best intentions, but many of them, as it
appeared to me, more remarkable for goodness of inten-
tion than for enlarged views or sound policy. I happened
to mention to Mr. Bernard one day, when the conversation
had turned upon the subject of the sufferings which mute
animals were wantonly made to endure, that I thought he
and his friends might do a great deal of good by endea-
vouring to bring into general use a mode of slaughtering
cattle which would be attended with much less pain to-
the animal than that which is commonly practised, such
as had been suggested by Mr. Bakewell of Leicestershire,
and warmly recommended in some of the agricultural

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430 NARRATIVE. 1805.

reports ; and I observed that perhaps this might be done
by offering rewards to butchers who should practise it,
and whose vanity might be the more flattered by receiving
a prize for their humanity, as it was a virtue of which th^
are generally supposed to be least susceptible. Mr. Ber-
nard pressed me to put down something upon the subject
in writing. I did so, and in the few lines I wrote I in-
sisted principally on the importance, in a moral and po-
litical point of view, of weaning men from the habit of
contemplating with indifference the sufferings of any sen-
sitive beings. The proper remedy for the evil would,
perhaps, be a law prescribing the mode in which cattle
should be put to death, and prohibiting any other. But
such a statute, unless the mode which it pointed out waa
generally known, and was already by some persons prac-
tised, would probably, as it were by general consent,
remain unexecuted. It was therefore of great import-
ance to introduce the new practice without any legislative
interposition, and this was my reason for su^esting the
measure to Bernard. He showed my paper to the Bishop,
who adopted the idea very cordially, and some time after-
wards introduced himself to me in the House of Lords.
After expressing his surprise that a lawyer, in so much
business as I was, could find time to think of such matters,
he told me that he had spoken to several persons who had
taken up the idea with much zeal ; amongst others. Lord
Somerville, who was at the head of the Board of Agricul-
ture, Mr. Mellish, the great contractor for victualling the
Navy, and the first Lord of the Admiralty, who had all
promised to do everything in their power to promote and
bring into general use Mr. Bakewell's plan, and that he
had great hopes that it i^ould, before long, be effected.

Whether this circumstance had given the Bishop a
favourable opinion of me, or whether he was merely in-
fluenced by the consideration that, of the barristers who
attended the Court of Chancery, I was in the most prac-
tice, I do not know ; but I understood that some earnest
and very powerful solicitations were made to him on
behalf of other persons, when he appointed me, who had
not solicited, and who did not wish for the office. Though
I had not wished for it, I accepted it. The emolument

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1803. NARRATIVE. 431

attending it I knew to be very inconsiderable, not much
more than the amount of the expense of going to Durham
to discharge its duties. The honour is not generally con-
sidered, either in or out of the profession, as a very high
one, and certainly had no charms for me : and it was im-
possible I could look to the office as the source of any plea-
sure. I yielded, therefore, in a great degree, in accepting
it, to public opinion. Attorneys and Solicitors General
had of late hardly thought themselves at liberty to refuse it ;
and I was partly afraid of incurring the reproach of being
solely intent upon amassing a fortune by my labours. I
was actuated, too, by another, though not a very powerful
motive. I was desirous of trying the experiment how I
should acquit myself, and how I should feel in a judicial
office. The experience, however, which the office could
afford me was very inconsiderable : there had not been,
upon an average of many years back, more than four or
five causes in the Court in a year, notwithstanding that,
for a part of that time, some of the ablest equity lawyers
in the profession, amongst others, Lord Eldon and Lord
Redesdale, had presided in it. In truth, there are several
concurrent causes which must ever prevent the business
of the Court from being considerable. One of the prin-
cipal is, the narrow extent of its jurisdiction. Out of the
county Palatine, the decrees of the Court cannot be en-
forced— one of the first acts I had to do as Chancellor was
to issue a sequestration against a man who had been
ordered to pay a sum of 900/. No sooner was the decree
pronounced against him than he quitted his old place of
residence, and having taken up his abode only a few miles
off, in the county of Northumberland, was disposed to set
the Court and its decrees at defiance. Fortunately he
had some land in Durham which could be sequestrated ;
but it will not be thought surprising that there is not
much business in a court which can enforce its decrees
only against those who happen to have real prox>erty in
one small county.

But though a Chancellor of Durham has not the comfort
of reflecting that his services are of much public utility,
he may, if he^be fond of such things, enjoy the grandeur,

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432 NARRATIVE. 1805-

and magnificence, and homage which attend him. The
castle of Durham, the episcopal palace, is, when the
Chancellor arrives, given up to him hy the Bishop. It is
his house ; the servants attend upon him as the lord of it;
a costly dinner is given to the dignitaries of the church,
to the counsel, the officers of the court, and the neighbour-
ing gentlemen ; and this, though at the Bishop's expense,
is, by a kind of legal fiction, considered as the Chancellor's
dinner. The invitations are sent in his name ; he presides
at the table ; and when the Bishop is at Auckland, the
Chancellor invites and receives him as his guest Though
I was, in some degree, prepared for this, I could not, upon
my arrival at Durham, but feel very forcibly the ridicule
of all this mimic grandeur. It was night when we got
there, for my dear Anne, who had been accompanying me
on a short and hasty tour to the Lakes of Cumberland, was
with me. We found that we had been long expected ; and
as we drove through the gates into the spacious court, and
the porter sounded the great bell, we saw the servants
hurrying out with lights. In the midst of bows and com-
pliments, and by numerous attendants, we were conducted
through long lighted galleries into a drawing-room, where
some of the officers of the court and their wives were
waiting to receive us, and " My Lord" and " Your Honour"
ushered in every phrase that was uttered. So sudden a
transformation into a great man, and the lord of an old
feudal palace, reminded one of Sancho's government of
Barataria ; and still more of Sly, the drunken cobbler of
Shakspeare. But to me all this ceremonial was not more
ridiculous than it was irksome. The necessity of making
conversation with persons I had never seen before, and of
presiding at table and doing the honours of a great dinner,
were to me so disgusting and painfiil, that the experience
of two tedious days passed at Durham would have heea
sufficient to cure me of all ambitious desires, if I could
have imagined that the duties of a Chancellor of England
bore any resemblance to those of a Chancellor of Durham.
The decision of the few causes which came before me, in
none of which did any question of difficulty arise, hardly
deserves the serious name of a duty, when compared with

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1806. NARRATIVE. 433

the more arduous task of acting the part of lord of a castle
not my own, and of considering as my welcome guests the
numerous strangers whom I met at tahle.

In the autumn of this year a very unexpected offer was
made to me hy the Prince of Wales, of a seat in Parliament.
It was made through my friend Creevey, in a letter which
I will transcrihe.

" Dear RomiUy, '* Bri«hton, Sept. 18, 1805.

" You will be surprised at receiving a letter from me,
no doubt, and perhaps stiU more so at the subject of it;
but I am desired to write to you by a person whose desires,
in the courtly language of this place, are considered as
commands. I will proceed, therefore, to state to you my
case. In the course of the few weeks I have been here, I
have had various conversations with the Prince of Wales,
principally upon the subject of political parties, and
respecting which he is very ardent and not a little com-
municative. On Monday last, the day after his return
from Weymouth and London, in the course of a very long
discussion upon these matters, he said he had done one
excellent thing during his absence,—* he had got a seat in
Parliament for Romilly.' He then went at great length
into your history and your merits.; pronounced you to be
the chief of your profession, and a certain future chan-
cellor ; and expressed the greatest desire for himself to be
the means of your coming into Parliament. He said he
had mentioned this in an interview with Fox, in town
last week, who had likewise expressed the greatest delight
at it. You would have been amused had you heard the
£imiliarity with which he handled the possible objections
to this measure. He said your parliamentary business
was principally in the House of Lords, with which it would
not interfere, and that you seldom or never attended elec-
tion committees. You may readily imagine I was not so
unskilful as to omit this opportunity of mentioning my
acquaintance with a person whom I heard so highly pane-
gyrised ; but I hazarded no conjecture as to the conduct
you would pursue upon such an offer, or as to any objects
you might have in view, parliamentary or political ; indeed,

VOL. I. 2 F

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434 KABJUTIVK. 9tfL

I wished the sabjeet to end as it then stood, that I might
have an opportunity of preparing you for solne official
communication upon this subject Yesterday, however,
he renewed the subject, and expressly desired me to write
to you ; and now I can only state to you what I have here
written. I do not know the name of the place he means,
the time when it would be vacated, nor do I know dis-
tinctly whether the seat was to be gratuitous; certainly
the impression upon my mind was such, but unfortunately
princes are very vague discoursers, and, still more unfor-
tunately, one has no means of cross-examining them, or
compelling them to put their sentiments down upon pap^.
You must therefore use your own discretion in the answer
you send to this very blind information, and coming from
such a quarter. You must see the necessity of my show-
ing him your letter in answer to this when it comes, and
of course will frame it accordingly. You may, at the
same time, give me any private instructions, and I will
take care to obey them. I am to dine with him to-day,
and doubtless you will again be displayed : if I collect any
more detail as to this matter I will send it, and in the
mean time I think my ignorance of your present residence
furnishes you with a sufficient apology for some delay in
sending the official answer to this communication. It
would be very presumptuous in me to give any opinion as
to whether you should politically connect yourself with
this same Prince. On the other hand, in the course oi
things, he is to be King, and a connexion with him now
is a connexion with a most powerful party, and a party
certainly the most respectable of parties in the country —
to say nothing of the political opinions of him and his
party being those which I presume you would think most
advantageous for the country. At all events, you must, I
am sure, feel much gratified at this homage f^m him in
conjunction with Fox, and I leave you to make such reply
to it as you think fit

" I beg you to present my respects to Mrs. Romilly, and
believe me to be very truly yours,

''Thomas CRBBvaYJ*

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1806. NARRATIVE. 435

When I received this letter I had not had any inter-
course whatever with the Prince, direct or indirect, except
upon the suhject of a cause in the Court of Chancery, in
which he took a very great interest It related to the
guardianship of a daughter of Lord Hugh Seymour, who
had remained, at the death of her parents while she was of
veiy tender years, under the care of Mrs. Fitzherhert.
With that lady she had heen left hy her family till she was
between five and six years old, and they then required to
have her returned to them. Being an orphan, and with-
out a legal guardian, no person had a right to remove her,
and the principal object of the suit was to have a guardian
for her appointed. On the one side were proposed for this
office Lord Euston and Lord Henry Seymour, who had
been named by Lord Hugh, in a will made before the birth
of this little orphan, the guardians of all his children, in a
certain event, which did not happen ; and on the other,
Mrs. Fitzherhert, with whom the child had been placed
by hoth her parents when they went from England, (Lady
Horatia, the mother, on account of her health, and Lord
Hugh as captain of the ship which he commanded,) who
had from that time considered and cherished the child as
her own, and who had in truth become a mother to it.
The Master, to whom the matter was referred, approved
of Lord Euston and Lord Henry Seymour as guardians ;
and from his decision Mrs. Fitzherhert brought the matter,
by an exception to the report, before the Lord Chancellor,
who, after a long hearing, and with less than his usual deli-
beration, confirmed the Master's report. While the cause
was depending, the Prince of Wales, who lived at Mrs.
Fitzherbert's house, as his own, was extremely anxious
about the event of it He loved the child with paternal
affection, and the idea of having her torn from him seemed
to be as painful to him as it was to Mrs. Fitzherhert. It
was upon the occasion of this cause that he desired once
that I, who was one of the counsel for Mrs. Fitzherhert,
would meet him at her house. I met him accordingly,
and had a very long conversation with his Royal High-
ness ; but it was confined entirely to. the subject on which
he had desired to see me.

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436 NARRATIVE. Sept.

I was very much surprised therefore to receive such an
offer from the Prince. I had not a moment's hesitation as
to refusing it, but the difficulty was to find a proper mode
of giving that refusal. I could not say that I had deter-
mined never to go into Parliament, for it was my inten-
tion to obtain a seat in it. I could not give any good
reason for wishing to delay it long, for, if I ever tiiought
of taking any part in politics, J had not much time to lose.
To give my real reason, that I was determined to be inde-
pendent, and not to enter the House of Commons as the
agent of another person, even though that person were the
heir-apparent of the Crown, would, I suspected, be ex-
tremely offensive to the Prince, and be thought by him
the highest degree of insolence. But offensive though it
was, I had no other resource ; and I determined, therefore,
with as much respect as I could, to assign that reason for
my refusal. What increased my embarrassment was, that
Creevey, to whom my letter was to be addressed, was him-
self brought into Parliament solely by Lord Petre. But
there was no help for it, and I returned him this answer : —

" Dear Creevey, ** LitUo Ealing, Sept. 23, isos.

" I have but just received your letter, which, by mis-
take, was sent after me to Durham, and did not arrive there
till after I had left it. It has, indeed, very much surprised
me, and I am afraid my answer to it will occasion as much
surprise in you. I cannot express to you how much
flattered I am by the honour which the Prince of Wales
does me. No event in the whole course of my life has
been so gratifying to me, and I have only to fear that it
proceeds from much too high an opinion which his Ro}^
Highness has formed from some partial and exaggerated
account of me. I have formed no resolution to keep out
of Parliament ; on the contrary, it has very long been my
intention, and is still my wish, to obtain a seat in the
House of Commons, though not immediately. My politics
you are already well acquainted with ; if I had been a
member from the beginning of the present Parliament,
my vote would have been uniformly given in a way which

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1805. NARRATIVE. 437

I presume would have been agreeable to the Prince of
Wales. Upon all great questions, and indeed it does not
at this moment occur to me that I need make any excep-
tion, I think that upon all questions I should have voted
with Mr. Fox ; and yet with all this I feel myself obliged
to decline the offer which his Royal Highness has the great
condescension to make me. This must seem very strange
and paradoxical, and it certainly does require a good deal
of explanation. I will endeavour to give it in the best
way I can. When I was a young man a seat in Parlia-
ment was offered me ; it was offered in the handsomest
manner imaginable. No condition whatever was annexed
to it. I was told that I was to be quite independent, and
was to vote and act just as I thought proper. I could not,
however, relieve myself from the apprehension that, not-
withstanding all these declarations, which I believe were
made with great sincerity, the person to whom I owed the
seat would consider me, without perhaps being quite con-
scious of it himself, as his representative in Parliament ;
that he would be surprised, and perhaps chagrined, if his
politics were not on all important occasions mine ; and,
in a word, that I should have some other than my own
reason and conscience to account to for my public con-
duct ; and even if these were not his sentiments, that they
would be the sentiments of the public. In other respects
the offer ^as to me a most tempting one. I had then no
professional business with which it could interfere. I took
a much greater interest in political contests than I have
ever done since, and as a young man I was vain and foolish
enough to imagine that I might distinguish myself as a
public speaker. I weighed the offer very maturely, and
in the end I rejected it. I persuaded myself that (although
that were not the case with others) it was impossible that
the little talents which I possessed could ever be exerted
with any advantage to the public, or any credit to myself,
unless I came into parliament quite independent, and
answerable for my conduct to God and to my country
alone. I had felt the temptation so strongly, that, in order
to fortify myself against any others of the same kind, I
formed to myself ah unalterable resolution never, unless I

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438 NARRATIVE. Sept.

held a pablic office, to come into Parliament bat by a
popular election, or by paying the common pric^ for my
Beat. As to the first of these, I knew, of cour^, tbat I
must never look for it ; and as for the latter, I determined
to wait till the labours of my profession should have enabled
me to accomplish it without being guilty of any great
extravagance.

" It is true that when I formed that resolution the pos-
sibility of a seat being offered me by the Prince of Wales
had never entered into my thoughts ; and that the rules
which I have laid down to regulate my conduct ought
perhaps to yield to such a circumstance as this. But yet
I have so long acted upon this resolution, the principles
on which I have formed it have become so much a part of
the system of my life, and that life is now so &r advanced,
that I cannot convince myself, proud as I am of the dis-
tinction which his Royal Highness is willing to confer on
me, that I ought to accept it. The answer that I should
wish to give to his Royal Highness is to express in the
strongest terms my gratitude for the offer, but in the most
respectful way possible to decline it; and at the same
time to say that, if his Royal Highness thinks that my
being in Parliament can be at all useful to the public, I
shall be very glad to procure myself a seat the first oppor-
tunity that I can find. But the difficulty is to know how
to give such an answer with propriety ; I am fearful that
it may be thought, in every way that it occurs to me to
convey it, not sufficiently respectful to his Royal High-
ness, and from this embarrassment I know not how to
relieve myself. My only resource is to trust that you will
be able to do for me what I cannot do for myself, and to
convey my answer in a way which will express all the re-
spect and gratitude I feel.

" You will undoubtedly not have understood me, when
I said that it was not my wish to go into Parliament im-
mediately, to mean that I was waiting till I might have
gained sufficient to make the consideration to be paid fbr
a seat a matter of little importance to me. I already con-
sider it as a matter of very little importance, but I was
desirous for a little longer to devote myself entirely to my

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1805. NARRATIVR 439

profession. A close attendance in Parliament is not quite
compatible with a close attendance at the Rolls, and you
know very well that, in the present state of the Court of
Chancery, by very much the greater proportion of causes
are heard there; this however is also a consideration of
very inferior importance.

** This long letter will, I am afraid, have quite exhausted
your patience, but I knew not how to explain myself more
concisely.

" J remain, dear Creevey,

" Ever and most sincerely yours,

" Saml. Romilly."

At the same time I addressed a private letter to Creevey
in these words : —

" Dear Creevey, " Sept. 23, isos.

" I send you enclosed the official answer you desire,
though I am afraid you will think for an official answer it
is in a very odd form. The truth is, that, though I had no
hesitation as to refusing the Prince's offer, I found myself
much embarrassed to know what reasons to give for doing
80 ; at last I thought, as is often the case in matters of dif-
ficulty, the simplest and most obvious course to take is the
best, and that I had nothing to do but just to speak the
plain truth upon the subject. If it gives offence to the
Prince I shall be sorry ; but my consolation will be that
the evil was inevitable. You will smile, perhaps, at the
solemnity of my letter, and at the long and important his-
tory oi myself; but while you are disposed to think this
ridiculous, pray do not forget how it is forced from me.
I have been making a very hasty tour to the lakes of
Cumberland, and have since been acting the part of a
chancellor at Durham. The most important, and by much
the most disagreeable, part of my duty has been to preside
at a formal and very numerous dinner of persons, not one
of whom except Losh I had ever seen before.

" I am sorry to be unintentionally the cause of so much
trouble to you, but you will easily guess that I shall not be
sorry to learn how; my answer is received."

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440 NARBATIVE. Ckt.

How my letter was received will appear from the fol-
lowing account which I received, about a week afterwards,
from Creevey :—

« Dear Romilly, « chicherter, Oct. i, iws.

" I am afraid you will think me long in giving you
any information upon the subject of your letter, and the
way in which it was received. On Wednesday last I saw
the Prince on horseback at a review, and he caUed me to
him, and, amongst other things, asked if I had heard from
you. I told him I had your answer to my letter in my
pocket ; and, after having shortly stated to him the sub-
stance of it in the way I thought most likely to give a
favourable impression to him, I gave it to him. As he
had not then an opportunity of reading it, he put it in his
pocket and took it home with him ; and on Thursday
evening I saw him reading it over and over again. He
then called me to him, and began a conversation about it :
he prqfessed himself to be perfectly satisfied with it, but
he was evidently mortified. He repeated all his former
sentiments respecting you, and said he hoped you certainly
would come into Parliament upon your own terms. ' That
if you would not permit him to give you a seat (which
would have been his greatest delight), he would take care
you should be sure of one, when you wanted it, in any way
you chose to have it.' I pressed upon him repeatedly the
superior advantage you could render to him, to his opi-
nions, to his party, and to the country, by sitting in Par-
liament in the way you proposed, rather than by owing
your seat immediately to him ; to all of which he assented,
but still conveying to me always the impression that he
was hurt. This is so natural a consequence of your re-
fusal, that of course you must have anticipated it I took
for granted you would do as you have done, and I am sure
you have done right. It seems to me impossible that this
conduct on your part can produce any injurious conse-
quences, either to yourself or the public. You must feel
every kind disposition to the Prince in return for an offer
so handsomely made ; and he is much too clever not to

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1805. NARRATIVE. 441

value you far more highly for this specimen of your inde-
pendence. A connexion thus begun between you is, I
think, of the most promising kind, the most likely to
afford you ultimate influence over the Prince (if he is
accessible to influence at all), and of course the most likely
to be beneficial to the country. At the close of our con-
versation I asked him if he wished to keep your letter ;
but he said, as it contained political opinions of yours, he
did not think himself justified in doing so; and here-
turned it, and it is now in my possession, to be disposed
of as you shaD direct. I delayed writing to you for some
days, thinking the conversation might be renewed ; but we
have had nothing but the Duke' of York, and generals,
and reviews, since. I meant to have written from here
last night, but was too late for the post I am now just
returning to Brighton, and if anything more occurs upon
this subject you shall learn it. I beg you to present my
kind respects to Mrs. Romilly, and believe me to be, dear
Romilly, very truly yours,

'* Thos. Creevey."

I had spoken the truth in my letter, but I had not
spoken the whole truth ; nor was it fit I should. I was
averse to being brought into Parliament by any man, but
by the Prince almost above all others. To be under per-
sonal obligations of that kind to him, to be in a situation
in which, as a lawyer and as a politician, he might repose
a particular confidence in me, was what I, above all
things, dreaded. I knew, from some conversations which
Lord Lansdowne told me had taken place between him
and Lord Moira some years before, that the Prince had
expressed a wish to know some lawyer upon whose advice
he could safely rely, and in whom he might place un-
bounded confidence ; and that he was desirous of forming
such a connexion before his accession to the throne. The
subject of this desired confidence was also mentioned to
me ; and it was one upon which I imagined the best ad-
vice was likely to be the least acceptable. These circum-
stances occurred to me when I wrote my answer ; and I

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442 NARRATIVS. Oct.

thought it might perhaps prove a fortunate circumstance
that I had thus early an opportunity of letting the Prince
know what I was. If, such as he found me, he should he
disposed to advance me to any high honour, I might, in-
deed, hope to he able to render some important services
to the public ; if, on the other hand, this specimen of my
independence should prove an obstacle to my promotion, it
would be clear that I could not obtain it but upon con-
ditions understood, if not expressed, to which I never
would submit.
I showed this correspondence soon after it had taken

place to . When he had read it, he asked me if I was

serious in saying that I meant to buy myself a seat, and
whether that were a measure which I could easily recon*
cile to my conscience. I had so long considered this as
almost the only mode by which Parliament was accessible
with honour to one who had no family connexion or local
interest which could procure his return, that I was sur-
prised at the observation even from a person who had
lived so long secluded from the world, and had been so
much accustomed to consider our constitution in its theory

rather than in practice, as .* Certainly it would be

better that biirgage-tenure boroughs should not exist, or
that, existing, the owners of them should never make the
high privilege of nominating representatives of the Com-
mons of England in Parliament a subject of pecuniary
traffic, but should, in the exercise of it, select only men of
an independent spirit, whose talents and integrity pointed
them out as most worthy of such a trust But while things
remain as we now unfortunately find them, as long as
burgage-tenure representatives are only of two descrip-
tions, they who buy their seats, and they who discharge
the most sacred of trusts at the pleasure, and almost as the
servants of another, surely there can be no doubt in which
class a man would choose to enrol himself; and one who

^ It may be proper to state that the name omitted in the text is
that of a person who never appeared before the public, either as an
author or in any other character.— 'Ed.

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1805. NARRATTVE. 443

should carry his notions of purity so far, that, thinking he
possessed the means of rendering service to his country,
he would yet rather seclude himself altogether from Par-
liament than get into it hy such a violation of the theory
of the constitution, must he under the dominion of a spe-
cies of moral superstition which must wholly disqualify
him for the discharge of any public duties.

If, however, I should be supposed, by any one into whose
hands this paper may chance to fall, to mean to convey a
universal censure upon all persons who suffer themselves
to be placed in Parliament by the proprietors of boroughs,
he will as much have misunderstood me as if he supposed
me ready to maintain that all persons who buy their seats
are honest independent men, who go into Parliament from
no motive but to promote the public good. There are ex-
ceptions to all general rules. A man who. has already
established his public character may be brought into Par-
liament by a private individual without the smallest re-
proach : it is his past and not his future conduct, what he
has done, and not what is expected from him, to which he
owes his seat.^ And even where no prior services have
given the individual any claims, there may be circum-
stances in the character of the giver and the acceptor of
the seat, in their mutual confidence and their mutual
friendship, which may make such a connexion an honour
to both of them. — I could myself name several private in-
dividuals from whom 1 should never have hesitated to
accept a seat in Parliament ; but they were men who had
not and who never could have any seats to dispose of.
The recollection, therefore, of cases which might indeed be
stated to be possible, but nothing more, could not prevent
me from adopting as a general riile that which I have
stated. It was a rule too laid down for myself alone, and
founded upon circumstances peculiar to myself, upon my
station in life, my family, my particular profession, upon
my own peculiar character, upon my past life, and the
future expectations of me which I knew my friends had
formed, and which I had been accustomed to form myself.

* * See ParUamentary Diary ^ November 23, 1812.— Ed.

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444 NARRATIVE. Oct.

In the November following the Prince sent to me to
desire that I would go to him at Carlton House. I obeyed
his summons (November 11 ). He said a few words upon
the subject of his offer, thanked me for having written so
fully on the subject, and said that I must come into Par-
liament, but in my own way. He then entered into some
conversation on the subject of Miss Seymour's cause.
After despatching these subjects he proceeded to the
matter which he said had been the cause of his desiring to
see me. It was one, he said, of the most confidential na-
ture, and of the greatest importance. He then stated to
me, very circumstantially and at great length, facts which
had been communicated to him relative to the Princess of
Wales, through the intervention of the Duke of Sussex,
by Lady Douglas, the wife of one of the Duke's equerries.
He told me that the account was to be put down in writing,
and that it should be then sent to me, that I might con-
sider with Lord Thurlow, to whom it was also to be sent,
what steps it woiild be necessary to take.

Near a month elapsed before I heard anything more on
the subject, but at the end of that time Colonel M'Mahon
brought me, from the Prince, the narrative of Lady Dou-
glas. After I had read it, by desire of the Prince I called
(December 15) on Lord Thurlow. Colonel M*Mahon ac-
companied me. Lord Thurlow had been very ill, which
had been the cause of our interview being postponed for
a week. He was still indisposed, and appeared to be ex-
tremely infirm ; he was, however, in full possession of his
faculties, and expressed himself, in the conversation we
had together, with that coarse energy for which he has
long been remarkable. He said that he had not been able
to read all Lady Douglas's narrative, it was written in so
bad a hand ; but that he had gone rapidly over it, and
collected the principal facts (and, in truth, it appeared,
from the observations he made, that no fact of any im-
portance had escaped him) ; that the first point to be con-
sidered was whether her account were true, and that, for
himself, he did not believe it. He said that there was no
composition in her narrative (that was the expression, he
used), no connexion in it, no dates : that some parts of it

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1805. NARRATIVE. 445

were grossly improbable. He then said that, when first
he knew the Princess, he should have thought her inca-
pable of writing or saying any such things as Lady Dou-
glas imputed to her, but that she might be altered ; that
to be sure it was a strange thing to take a beggar's child,
but a few days old, and adopt it as her own ; but that,
however. Princesses had sometimes strange whims which
nobody could account for ; that in some respects her situ-
ation was deserving of great compassion. Upon the whole,
his opinion was, that the evidence the Prince was in pos-
session of would not justify taking any step on his part,
and that he had only to wait and see what facts might
come to light in future : in the mean time, however, that
it would be proper to employ a person to collect evidence
respecting the conduct of the Princess ; and he mentioned
Lowten as a person very fit to be employed. At Colonel
M'Mahon's desire, I wrote down for the information of
the Prince what I collected to be Lord Thurlow's opinion.
It having been manifest, from Lord Thurlow's manner,
that he was not disposed to enter fully into the considera-
tion of the subject, I understood from Colonel M*Mahon
that the Prince would be governed by my advice. I wished,
however, to decline being the single adviser of the Prince
in a matter of such very great importance, and I suggested
the propriety of Erskine being consulted. The papers
were accordingly put into Erskine's hands, and we met
upon them. I could not, however, easily engage him to
consider what I thought the matters principally deserving
of consideration; I therefore, by myself, put down in
writing what appeared to me to be the principal diffi-
culties to be decided on, and gave it to Colonel M'Mahon
to be delivered to the Prince.

In the mean time Erskine and I agreed that, as Lord
Thurlow had recommended, Lowten should be employed
for the purpose. Erskine accordingly appointed Lowten
to meet us both ; but on the night preceding the day fixed
• for our meeting, Erskine's wife died : it was therefore
impossible for him to attend the meeting, and I saw Low-
ten alone (Dec. 27)» put him in possession of the facts I

d by Google

446 NAKRATIVE. Dee. 1805.

was acquainted wiUi, and deMvered to him Lady Douglas's
statement.

Dec. 30th. Lowten called on me, and infonned me that
he had seen Lord Moira and Colonel M'Mahon, and that
from them he understood that it was the Princess wish
that I should see Lady Douglas.

Dec. 3l8t. I saw Lady Douglas, with Sir John Douglas,
Lord Moira, and Lowten, at Lowten's chamhers. Lady
Douglas answered all questions put to her with readiness,
aud gave her answers with great /coolness and self-posses-
sion, and in a manner to impress one very much with the
truth of them.

d by Google

APPENDIX.

(See p. 50.)

The following are extracts from Mr. Baynes's journal, with
which we have heen fayoured by its present possessor. They refer
principally to conversations with Benjamin Franklin in 1783.
—Ed.

Wednesday, August 27. Hired a coach for the day, and went
to Tisit the ambassador (the Duke of Manchester), who receiyed
me very politely ; asked me to dine on Friday. From thence I went
to Passy (a pleasant town, two miles from Paris, and on the Seine)
to present Dr. JebVs letter to Dr. Franklin. Mr. Bomilly went with
me, haying inquired most particularly into the propriety of his
going, and finding that there would be nothing improper. His house
is delightfully situated, and seems yery spacious ; and he seemed
to haye a great number oi domestics. We sent up the letter, and
were then shown up into his bedchamber, where he sat in hi»
nightgown, his feet wrapped up in flannels and resting on a pil-
low, he having for three or four days been much afflicted with the
gout and the gravel. He first inquired particularly after Dr. Jebb,
which led us to the subject of parliamentary reformation. I men-
tioned that Dr. Jebb was for having every man vote : he said
he thought Dr. Jebb was right, as the all of one man was as dear
to him as the all of another. Afterwards, however, he seemed t&
qualify this by expressing his approbation of the American system,
which excludes minors, servants, and others, who are liable to
undue influence. He said that he much doubted whether a par-
liamentary reform at present would have the desired effect; that
we had been much too tender in our economical reform, — that
offices ought never to be accompanied with such salaries as will
make them the objects of desire. In support of this he read the
36th article of the Pennsylvania Constitution (a most wise and
salutary rule). He mentioned the absurd manner in which the
Courrier de V Europe had spoken of General Washington's resigna-
tion and retirement, as if it were a dissolution of the original
compact : he said that the General was an officer appointed by the
state, and no integral part of the constitution, and that his retire-
ment could affect the state no more than a constable, or other
executive officer, going out of office. I observed how some of our
papers had affected to depreciate his motives in retiring, and added
that I should always suppose a man to act from good motives till
I saw cause to think otherwise. " Yes," said he, •* so would every
honest man;" and then he took an opportunity of reprobating

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448 APPENDIX.

the maxim that all men were equally corrupt. "And yet," said Mr.
Bomilly, '^thatwas the fayourite maxim of Lord North's Adminis-
tration." Dr. Franklin observed that such men might hold such
opinions with some degree of reason, judging from themselves and
the persons they knew : " A man," added he, ** who has seen
nothing but hospitals, must naturally have a poor opinion of the
health of mankind.''
r Mr. Romilly asked as to the slave-trade in America, whe-
' ther it was likely to be abolished t He answered that in several
states it now did not exist ; that in Pennsylvania effective mea-
sures were taken for suppressing it; and that, if it had not
been for the Board of Trade, he believed it would have been
abolished everywhere. To that board he attributed all our mis-
fortunes, the old members corrupting the young ones.

He seemed equally liberal in religious and in political opinions.
The excellence of the constitution of Massachusetts in point of reli-
gious liberty being mentioned, he observed that they had always
shown themselves equally so ; that the land was originally granted
out to them subject to the payment of a small sum for the support of
a presbyterian minister ; that, many years ago, on the application
of persons of other religions, they agreed that the sum actually
paid by any congregation should go to its own minister, what-
ever was his persuasion. This was certainly a great act of libe-
rality, because they were not bound to do it in point even of
justice, the annual payment being in &ct the price or rent of the
land. He mentioned his having had a conversation with Lord
Bristol (the Bishop of Derry) on a similar subject; that the Bishop
said he had long had in hand a work for the purpose of freeing
Roman Catholics from their present state, and giving them a
similar indulgence. ** And pray, my Lord, while your hand is in,
do extend your plan to dissenters, who are clearly within all the
reasons of the rule." . His Lordship was astonished — ^no — ^he saw
some distinction or other, which he could not easily explain. In
^ct, the revenue of his Lordship would have suffered consider-
able diminution by suffering dissenters to pay their tithes to their
^ own pastors. He reprobated the statute of Henry VI. for limiting
votes to forty-shilling freeholders, and observed that the very next
statute in the book was an act full of oppression upon poor artificers.

He conversed with greater freedom and openness than I had
any right to expect, which I impute partly to Dr. Jebb's friendly
letter, partly to his own disposition. I never enjoyed so much
pleasure in my life as in the present conversation with this great
and good character. He looked very well, notwithstanding his
illness; and, as usual, wore his spectacles, which made him very

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APPENDIX. 449

like a small print I have seen of him in England. He desired us
on taking leaye to come and Tisit him again, which we resoWed
to do.

We went to dinner with a bourgeoiSf a namesake of Mr. R.,
Mons. EomUfyf a watchmaker, Rtie St, Louis, near the Pont
Neuf—K yery pleasant, agreeable man, and an ingenious artist.
* m * * *

Monday, September 1. Mr. S. R. left me and set off for Genera
or Lausanne with M. Gautier in a cabriolet or single-horse chair.
I nerer parted with any man more unwillingly ; for, besides his ex-
cellent disposition, he has such a fund of information on all sub-
jects of importance as must make his company an object of the
first consequence. He asked me repeatedly to write to him, which
I promised to do.

Monday, September 16. Called on Lieutenant Hemon, and
walked with him as &r as the Barriere de la Confirence, on the
way to Passy. He left me there, and I proceeded to Dr. Frank-
lin's house. On entering, a confounded Swiss servant told me to
go up stairs and I should meet with domestics. I went up, but
not a domestic was there ; I returned and told him there was
nobody. He then walked up with me, and pointing to the room
before me told me I might enter and I should find his master
alone. I desired him to announce me. " Oh ! Monsieur, ce n'est
pas n^cessaire; entrez, entres;" on which I proceeded, and,
rapping at the door, I perceived that I had disturbed the old man
from a sleep he had been taking on a sofa. My confusion was
inexpressible. However, he soon relieved me from it, saying
that he had risen early that morning, and that the heat of the
weather had made a little rest not imacceptable ; and desiring
me to sit down. He inquired if I had heard from Dr. Jebb. I
then showed him an excellent letter which I had just received
from him, containing some noble sentiments on tiie American
war, with which he seemed much pleased. The letter contained
some sentiments on the American religious constitution, particu-
larly noticing the liberality of that of Massachusetts Bay. Dr.
Franklin observed that^ notwithstanding its excellence, he thought
there was one fault in it: that whenthegovemment of that colony
had, thirty or forty years ago, upon the application of the dissen-
ters, permitted them to apply their portion of the sum raised for
religious |>urposes to the use of their own minister (as he had
mentioned in his former conversation), the Quakers likewise ap-
plied for a total exemption from this burden upon this ground,
that they did, one among another, gratis, the same duties as the

VOL. I. 3 G

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450 APPENDIX.

Other secUpaid a duty for performing. «* The goTcmmenV said
he, " considered their case and exempted them from the hurden, the
person claiming an exemption heing obliged to produce a certifi-
cate firom the meeting that he was really ftoft4./Scfe one of that
persuasion. The present constitution of Massachusetts Bay does
not appear to me to make any provision of this sort in favour of
Quakers. Now I own I think this a fault ; for if their regu-
lations, one among another, be such that they answer the ends of
a minister, I see no good reason why they should be obliged to
contribute to a useless expense. We find the Quakers to be as
orderly and as good subjects as any other religious sect whatever ;
and indeed," said he, *' in one respect I think their mode of in-
struction has the advantage ; for it is always delivered in language
adapted to the audience, and consequently is perfectly intelligible.
I remember once in England being at a church near Lord De-
spencer's with his Lordship, who told me that the clergyman
was a very sensible young man, to whom he had just given the
living. His sermon was a sensible discourse and la elegant lan-
guage ; but notwithstanding this, I could not perceive that the
audience seemed at all struck with it. The Quakers in general
attend to some plain sensible man of their sect, whose discourse
they all imderstand. I therefore rather incline to doubt of the
necessity of having teachers, or ministers, for the express purpose
of instructing the people in their religious duties.

" All this is equally applicable to the law: the Quakers have no
lawsuits except such as are determined at their own meetings ;
there is an appeal from the monthly to the annual meeting. All
is done without expense, and nobody grumbles at the trouble of
deciding. In fact, the honour of being listened to as a preacher,
or of presiding to decide lawsuits, is in itself sufficient. A
salary only tends to diminish the honour of the office ; and this,
if considered, will tend to support the doctrine, held in the Penn-
sylvania constitutions, which I mentioned to you in our last con-
versation. Persons will play at chess, by the hour, without being
paid for it ; this you may see in every coffee-house in Paris. De-
ciding causes is in fiict only a matter of amusement to sensible
men. "

I mentioned the mode in France of buying seats in the
Parliament for the purpose of ennobling themselves. He ob-
served that that very practice would confirm the ideas he had just
thrown out. Here a bourgeois gives a sum of money for his seat
in Parliament as a eonseiller. The fees of his office do not bring
him in 3 per cent., or at least not more. Therefore for the no^

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APPENDIX. 451

blesse or honour which his seat gives him, he pays two-fifths of
the price of the ofiice, and at the same time gives up his labour
without any recompense.

In the course of our conversation I asked if they did not still
imprison for debt in America 1 He answered that they did ; but
he expressed his disapprobation of this usage in very strong terms.
He said he could not compare any sum of money with imprison-
ment— they were not commensurable quantities. Nobody, how-
ever, in America who possessed a freehold (and almost everybody
had a freehold) could be arrested on mesne process. He inclined
to think that all these sorts of methods to compel payment were
very impolitic — some people indeed think that credit and conse-
quently commerce would be diminished if such means were not i
permitted, but he said that he could not think that the diminu-
tion of credit was an evil, for that the commerce which arose from
credit was in a great measure detrimental to a state.

4( 4( « « 4(

He mentioned one instance to show how unnecessary such
compulsory means were, and he seemed to think that it would be
better if there were no legal means of compelling the payment of
debts of a certain magnitude. In the interval between the decla-
ration of independence and the formation of the code of laws in
America, there was no method of compelling payment of debts,
yet, notwithstanding this, the debts were paid as regularly as
ever; and if any man had refused to pay a just debt because
he was not legally compellable, he durst not have shown
his face in the streets. Dr. Jebb having requested me to inqmre
if there were any good political tracts or pamphlets, I took the
liberty to ask if he knew any. He told me that there were a
good many upon one particular subject, which had been fully
discussed, but which was little known in England as yet. Of
these he said one might make a little library. The subject was
on the giving information to the public on matters of finance.
The books in question had given rise to a set of persons or to a
sect called economists, who held that if the people were well in- V
formed on matters of finance, it would be unnecessary to use
force to compel the raising of money ; that the taxes might be
too great — so great as in fact to diminish the revenue — for that a
farmer should have at the end of the year not only wherewith to
pay his rent and to subsist his family, but also enough to defray
the expense of the sowing, &c. &c., of next year's crop ; otherwise,
if the taxes are so high as to prevent this, part of his land must

2 G,

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d?y Google

452 APPENDIX.

remain unsown, and conseqaently the crop which is the subject of
taxation be diminished, and the taxes of course must suffer the same
fate. Some of their principles, he obserred, were perhaps not
quite tenable. However, the subject was discussed thoroughly.
The Marquis de Mirabeau was said to be the author of the system.
Dr. Franklin waited on him, but he assured him that he was not
the author originally — ^that the founder was a Dr. Chenelle, or
Quenelle.* The Marquis introduced Dr. Franklin to him, but he
could not make much out of him, haying rather an obscure mode
of expressing himself.

He said that he was acquainted with an Abbi f now abroad,
but who would return in a fortnight or so, and who would give
him a list of the principal pamphlets on both sides.

I then left him, and he desired me to call from time to time
during my stay at Paris.

• 4( * * •

Tuesday, September 23. Walked to Passy to see Dr. Franklin,
but took care to make the servant announce me regularly. Found
him with some American gentlemen and ladies, who were convers-
ing upon American commerce, in which the ladies joined. On their
departure I was much pleased to see the old man attend them
down stairs and hand the ladies to their carriage. On his return
I expressed my pleasure in hearing the Americans, and even the
ladies, converse entirely upon commerce. He said that it was so
throughout the coimtry : not an idle man, and consequently not
a poor man, was to be found.

In speaking of American politics, I mentioned Dr. Jebb's sen-
timents on the famous vote of the House of Commons which put
an end to the American war ; that he disapproved of the terms of
the resolution, which was, on the face of it, founded on our being
the better able to combat France, and which therefore could not be
very agreeable to America. " Certainly not," said he ; *» I trust
we shall never forget our obligations to France, or prove un-
grateful." "You are at so great a distance," said I, "from the
European powers, that there does not seem much probability of
your quarrelling with any of them unless on account of Canada
or the West Indies." He said that he hoped they would keep
themselves out of European politics as much as possible, and that
they should make a point of adhering to their treaties.

In the course of this conversation, I mentioned the shamefiil
neglect of treaties which so much prevailed at present; the

Or rather Queroay.— Ed. f Tlie Abbe Morellet.— Ed.

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APPENDIX. 453

great injustice of several of our own wars, and the triviality of
the avowed cause of others. I likewise mentioned Dr. Price's
plan for a general peace in Europe. He observed that nothing
could be more disgraceful than the scandalous inattention to
treaties, which appeared in almost every manifesto ; and that he
thought the world would grow wiser, and wars become less fre-
quent. But he observed that the plans which he had seen for
this purpose were in general impracticable in this respect, viz.
that they supposed a general agreement among the sovereigns of
Europe to send delegates to a particular place. Now though
perhaps two, or three of them might be willing to come into
this measure, it is improbable and next to impossible that all,
or even a majority of them, would do it. " But," said he, " if
they would have patience, I think they might accomplish it,
some way In this manner: — Two or three sovereigns might
agree upon an alliance against^ all aggressors, and agree to
refer all disputes between each other to some third person
or set of men, or power. Other nations, seeing the advan-
tage of this, would gradually accede ; and, perhaps, in 150 or
200 years, all Europe would be included. I will, however,**
continued he, « mention one plan to you, which came to
xne in rather an extraordinary manner, and which seems to
me to contain some very sensible remarks. In the course of
last year, a man very shabbily dressed — all his dress together
was not worth 5t.— <;ame and desired to see me. He was ad-
mitted, and, on asking his business, he told me that he had
walked from one of the remotest provinces in France, for the
purpose of seeing me and showing me a plan which he had
formed for a universal and perpetual peace. I took his plan
and read it, and found it to contain much good sense. I desired
him to print it. He said he had no money : so I printed it for
him. He took as many copies as he wished for, and gave several
away ; but no notice whatever was taken of it." He then went
into a closet and brought a copy of this plan, which he gave me.
I took the liberty to remind him of his list of books, which he
promised not to forget, saying the Abb^ was now with Lord
Shelbume in Holland.

N.B. — He this day expressed his opinion that in England the
executive power might be maintained without all the expense
which at present seems to be esteemed so necessary for its esta-
blishment.

« * >» 4( « 4( «

Thursday, Oct. 2. Walked with M. Hemon to Passy. Called

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454 APPENDIX.

upon Dr. Franklin, "who showed me an Irish newspaper he had
just received, containing the noble and spirited resolutions of
the delegates of the Ulster yolimteers at Dungannon, in which
they appointed a grand national conyention at Dublin. He
expressed his sentiments very strongly that they would carry
their point ; and that, if parliament would not execute their
plan of reform, they would drop the parliament and execute it of
themselves. On my asking his opinion of our hopes of success
in England, he said he feared we were too corrupt a nation to
carry the point. " I have not patience," said he, " to read even
your newspapers ; they are full of nothing but robberies, mur-
ders, and executions : and when a nation once comes to that,
nothing short of absolute government can keep it in order."

In speaking of the Irish volunteers I took the liberty of men-
tioning (what seemed to me an omission in the constitution of
America) the want of any sufficient armed force. He said they
had a militia who met and exercised five or six days in a year.
I objected the smallness of the time, and their serving by sub-
stitutes, and in support of personal service mentioned Andrew
Fletcher's opinion.

He seemed to think the objections of no great weight, ** for,"
said he, ** America is not, like any European power, surrounded
by others, every one of which keeps an immense standing army ;
therefore she is not liable to attacks from her neighbours — at
least, if attacked she Is on an equal footing with the aggressor ;
and if attacked by any distant power, she will always have time
to form an army. Could she possibly be in a worse situation
than at the beginning of this war, and could we have had better
success 1 "

Insensibly we began to converse on standing armies, and he
seeming to express an opinion that this system might some time
or other be abolished, I took the liberty to ask him in what
manner he thought it could be abolished ; that at present a com-
pact among the powers of Europe seemed the only way, for one
or two powers singly and without the rest would never do it ;
and that even a compact did not seem likely ever to take place,
because a standing army seemed necessary to support an abso-
lute government, of which there were many in Europe. *' That
is very true," said he ; "I admit that if one power singly were to
reduce their standing army, it would be instantly overrun by
other nations ; but yet I think that there is one eflfect of a stand-
ing army, which must in time be felt in such a manner as to
bring about the total abolition of the system." On my asking

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APPENDIX. 455

xvhat the effect was to which he alluded, he said he thought they
diminished not only the popuhition, hut even the hreed and the
size of the human species. ** For," said he, " the army in this and
every other country is in fact the flower of the nation — all the
most vigorous, stout, and well-made men in a kingdom are to be
found in the army. These men in general never marry."

I mentioned to him that in England, our military establish-
ment not being so large, we did not as yet feel these effects, but
that the multiplication of the species was dreadfully retarded by
other causes, viz.: — I. Our habits of luxury, which make us
fancy that a young man is ruined if he marry early, nobody
ever thinking of retrenching their expenses ; and 2. Our absurd
laws, e, g. the Marriage Act and the law of descents, which
gives all to the eldest son, whereby younger sons are generally
excluded.

" Yes," said he, " I have observed that myself in England.
I remember dining at a nobleman's house where they were
speaking of a distant relation of his who was prevented from
marrying a lady, whom he loved, by the smallness of their for-
tunes : everybody was lamenting their hard situation, when I
took the liberty to ask the amount of their fortunes. * Why,*
said a gentleman near me, * aU they can raise between them will
scarce be 40,000/.* I was astonished : however, on recollecting
myself, I suggested that 40,000/. was a pretty handsome fortune ;
that it would, by being vested in the Three per Cents., bring in
1200/. a year. * And pray, Sir, consider, what is 1200/. a yearl
There is my lord's carriage and my lady's carriage, &c. &c.*
So he ran up 1200/. in a moment. I did not attempt to confute
him ; but only added, that notwithstanding all he had said, if he
would give me the 40,000/., I would endow 400 American girls
with it, every one of whom should be esteemed a fortime in her
own. country. As to the custom of giving the eldest son more
than the others, we have not actually been able to get entirely
rid of it in America. The eldest son in Massachusetts has, with-
out either rhyme or reason, a share more than any of the rest.
I remember before I was a member of the Assembly, when I
was clerk to it, the question was fully agitated. Some were for
having the eldest son to have the extraordinary share ; others
were for giving it to the youngest son, which seemed indeed the
most reasonable, as he was the most likely to want his education,
which the others might probably have already had from their
father. After three days' debate, it was left as it stood before^
viz. that the eldest son should have a share more.

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456 APPENDIX.

I obseired that this was the Jewish law of descent. He asked
if it was to be found among Moses' lawst I answered that it
was. Upon which he said, it was remarkkble that he had not
seen or heard of it hefare ; ** but," said he, ^* the mention of Moses'
laws reminds me of one which always struck me as very extra-
ordinary ; and I do not remember an instance where it appears
to hare been carried into execution — ^I mean the law prohibiting
the alienation of land for a longer time than from Jubilee to
Jubilee, t. e, for 60 years. This must evidently have been in-
tended to prevent accumulation of landed property, but it seems
very difficult to execute ; indeed, in one respect, it is perhaps
impolitic, for it must necessarily follow that the land will be
run out at the end of the term."

" That," said I, " will always be the case even at the end of a four-
teen or seven years' lease, and it seems a difficult thing to determine
how long a lease in prudence and justice ought to be ; these long
leases throw too much into the power of the tenant, and in leases
from year to year the tenant is too dependent." " That very
thing," replied he, ** convinces me that no man should cultivate
any land but his own* I rather am of opinion that land at present
is of too high a value throughout these parts of the world. I
was reading the other day some accounts of China, sent over by
two young Chinese, who were educated here at the expense of
government, and sent into their own country again. They were
desired to send over minute accounts of every thing relative to
that country, and several volumes have been published already.
In the last of these I find that they allow a very high interest
on money, (about 30 per cent,) and it struck me that it ivus a
politic measure, for the consequence would be that no person
would be desirous of having a large quantity of land, Tvhich
therefore must be the more equally divided. All laws for keep-
ing the landed property exactly equal are impracticable on account
of the fluctuating state of population ; and where at the first the
property is equal, if alienation be allowed it will very soon be
unequal again. Antigua was at first divided into lots of ten
acres; it is not an ancient colony. I remember hearing one who
was a very old man when I was a very young one, observe that he
recollected there being a great number of ten-acre men in the
island, and yet that when he spoke there vras hardly a ten-acre
man to be met with. At this time I do not believe there is one
remaining." I mentioned to him my intention of leaving Paris
in ten days : he said he expected his Abb^ in less than that time.

Walked with M. Hemon to see the two places of La Mueii0

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APPENDIX. 451

and Madrid, both in the Bois de Boulogne. On our return we
dined at a table d'h6te where I had often dined before, at the H6tel
d'Angleterre, Rue St. Honor^. One of the girls who waited on
us had often struck me before with her elegance of figure and
her wonderful attention, but this day I heard a story of her
which would do honour to a Princess. An old Knight of St.
Louis who had lired there long happened to hare incurred a
debt which he found himself unable to pay : he was upwards of
80, and had outUved all his friends ; on his being threatened with
the process of the law, Marianne, out of the little she had saved,
actually paid the debt and supported him to his death.

4( 4( 4( 4( 4(

Sunday, October 12. Walked to Passy to call on Dr. Franklin.
Found him with two French gentlemen, conversing on the sub-
ject of the bcUlon. Dr. Franklin said he had subscribed to ano-
ther haMon, and that one of the conditions of the subscription was
that a man should be sent up along with it. The gentlemen did
not stay long. After they were gone our conversation turned
chiefly on the state of the arts here and in other countries, par-
ticularly printing and engraving. He admitted that we had one
or two artists superior to any French engravers, but he seemed
to think the art in much higher perfection here than in England.
He showed some engravings (coloured in the engraving) of
birds, &c., for Buffon's Natural History, which were wonderfully
finely executed. I cannot, however, tiiink that they can execute
a large print so finely as we do in England. I have never seen
a large print engraved here which had not a sort of coarseness
not to be found in Bartolozzi. Their small designs, vignettes,
&c., are beautiful, both in design and execution.

He showed me, among other specimens of printing, the Span-
ish Don Quixote, in 5 vols. 4to., which for elegance of typography
and engraving equals anything I ever saw except the translation
of Sallust by Don Gabriel, the second son of the King of Spain.
.* * * * *

I mentioned to him Howard's book on Prisons, as one of our
best printed books. He said he had never seen it ; I promised to
send it to him.

In the course of conversation he again expressed his doubts of
our success in accomplishing a parliamentary reform, and repeated
his opinion that we had been too tender of places and pensions :
he said that these were in general, either directly or indirectly,
the objects of coming into Parliament. This he confirmed by an

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458 APPENDIX.

instance taken from America, where he said that he had sat in
the Assembly 12 years and had never solicited a single Yote ;
that this was not peculiar to him — ^hundreds had done the same ;
that the office of an Assembly-man was looked upon as an office of
trouble, and that you perpetually saw the papers filled with
advertisements requesting to decline the honour. And to show
that the salary is the thing which makes the office desirable, the
Sheriff's place is always sought for by a number of candidates.
Anciently when the office of sheriff was insituted in America,
the fees were fixed at rather too small a rate to make a sufficient
salary, there being then very few writs : the fees were there-
fore increased; but since that time the number of lawsuits
having increased, the salary is increased so much as to make the
office an object of desire. He seemed to express a fear that the
spirit of the Pennsylvania constitution was not in this instance
perfectly kept up ; howeyer, he said if he ever went into America,
he would endeavour to diminish the sheriff's salary. He therefore
strongly recommended us to persist in the present economical
reform, as that would at all events save us from ruin, by taking
away the object at which most men at present aim who seek
a seat in Parliament.

I asked if the Abb^ was yet arrived. " Upon my word," said he,
« I had actually forgot your list. The Abb^ is arrived, and he was
one of the gentlemen who were with me when you came in. But
I will write him a note to request he will send you the list of
books you wish to have." I promised to send him word when
I intended to set off, as he wished to send a letter or two by me
to England.

Wednesday, Oct. 15. Not being able to get a place for Rouen
sooner, engaged one for Friday night. Dr. Franklin having
expressed a wish to read Maaon^s English Garden, I sent it to
him to-day, with a letter of thanks for his politeness. He re-
turned a most obliging answer.

Thursday, Oct. 16. Called on M. l'Abb6 Morellet, at Dr.
Franklin's Instance, to get my list, but he was in the country.

Oct. 17. Called again, but he was still in the country ; there-
fore I was at last disappointed of my list.

« « « * *

END OF VOL. I. A

London : Printed by William Clowxs and Sons, Stamford Street.

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