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ew  France 


iijt:Ci'<tytii',^^Q«:f(yi<;r,^ 


a 


THE   NEW   FRANCE 


Works  by  the  Same  Author 


ANCIENT   RELIGION    AND   MODERN 

THOUGHT.     {Out  of  print.)  Chapman  and  Hall. 

CHAPTERS  IN   EUROPEAN  HISTORY. 

{Out  ofpri?it.)  Chapman  and  Hall. 

A  CENTURY   OF   REVOLUTION.     (3?-^ 

Edition.)  Chapman  and  Hall. 

ON       RIGHT      AND      WRONG.       {yd 

Edition.)  Chapman  and  Hall. 

ON  SHIBBOLETHS.  Chapman  and  Hall. 

THE    CLAIMS    OF    CHRISTIANITY.         Chapman  and  Hall. 

ESSAYS   AND   SPEECHES.  Chapman  and  Hall. 

CHRISTIANITY  AND  MODERN  CIVI- 
LIZATION. Chapman  and  Hall. 

STUDIES  IN  RELIGION  AND  LITERA- 
TURE Chapman  and  Hall. 

MANY    MANSIONS  Chapman  and  Hall. 

IDOLA   FORI  Chapman  and  Hall. 

THE    GREAT   ENIGMA.     {Out  of  print.)      John  Murray. 

FOUR  ENGLISH  HUMOURISTS  OF 
THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 
{Out  of  print.)  John  Murray. 

FIRST  PRINCIPLES  IN  POLITICS.    {2nd 

Edition.)  John  Murray. 

RENAISSANCE    TYPES.    {Out  of  print.)        Fisher  Unwin. 


INDIA    AND    ITS   PROBLEMS.      {Out  of 

print)  Sands. 


A    YEAR    OF    LIFE     {Out  of  print.)  John  Lane. 


THE   NEW  FRANCE 


BY 

WILLIAM    SAMUEL   LILLY 

HONOKAKY    FELLOW   OF    FETEKHOUbE,    CAMBRIDGE 


"L'identite  dcs  formes  d'esprit  est  surprenante  tntrc  les  sophistes 
sanglants  de  '93  et  leurs  successturs  plus  benins,  et  plus  dangercux 
peut-etre,  d'aujourd'hui." — Bourget. 


LONDON 
CHAPMAN    &    HALL,    Ltd. 

19^3 


TO 

S.    RUSSELL   WELLS,    M.D. 

My  Dear  Russell  Wells, 

A   considerable    portion   of  the  contents 

of     this     book    was     written     during     the     weary 

months,    which    your    daily   visits    did   so   much   to 

brighten,     of     a    painful     and     protracted    illness. 

Speaking   ex  Jmmano  die,    I    owe    to  your  vigilant 

care  and  never-failing  skill,   my   rescue    from   that 

Valley    of   the    Shadow    of   Death.      I   write    your 

name    here,     with     your    kind    permission,    as     a 

memorial  of  the  debt  of  gratitude  thus  laid  upon 

me,  and  as  a  tribute  to  a  deeply  valued  friendship 

of  many  years. 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  S.   LILLY. 
May  I,  1913. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

I.  The  Principles  of  1789 

II.  The  Revolution  and  Religion   . 

III.  The  Anti-Christian  Crusade 

IV.  A  Typical  Jacobin 

V,  The  Founder  of  a  New  Church 

VI.  A  Paladin  of  the  Restoration  . 

VII.  L'Ame  Moderne    .... 


PAGE 
I 

•  39 

100 

•  117 

•  156 

•  194 

260 


PAGS 


SUMMARY 

CHAPTER    I 
The  Principles  of  1789 

The  Revolution  of  1789  was  an  attempt,  largely  successful, 
to  recreate  a  nation  :  it  brought  into  existence  a 
New  France i 

Object  of  the  present  volume  :  to  deal  with  some  of  the 
more  noticeable  aspects  of  this  New  France,  as 
exhibited  in  pohtics  and  literature i 

The  principles  on  which  the  makers  of  the  New  France 
raised  their  political  and  social  edifice  are  set  out 
in  the  Declaration  of  the  Rights  of  the  Man  and  the 
Citizen 2 

Text  of  that  document 3 

Its  immediate  results 6 

Some  provisions  of  the  Declaration  good,  either  absolutely  or 

with  limitations  and  explanations 7 

But  these  are  vitiated  by  the  demonstrably  false  principles 

underlying  it 10 

Those  false  principles,  derived  from  Rousseau,  may  be 
summed  up  in  the  two  propositions :  The  true 
conception  of  mankind  is  that  of  a  mass  of  sovereign 
human  units,  by  nature  free,  equal  in  rights,  and 
virtuous;  Civil  society  rests  upon  a  compact 
entered  into  by  these  sovereign  units 10 

The  proposition  that  man  is  born  free  is  opposed  to  the 
most  elementary  facts  of  hfe.  He  is  born  in  a  state 
of  more  entire  subjection  than  any  other  animal : 
and  throughout  his  life  he  is  necessarily  subservient, 
in  greater  or  less  measure,  to  the  will  of  others       .      .       15 

Equally  false  is  the  assertion  that  men  are  born  and  con- 
tinue equal  in  rights 16 

ix 


SUMMARY 


PACE 


And  so  is  the  assertion  of  man's  natural  goodness     ...        17 
Is  it  not  true  that  civil  society  is  the  result  of  a  contract 

between  a  multitude  of  unrelated  human  units  .  .  18 
Nor  are  these  serviceable  fictions  :  they  are  false  dogmas 
presented  as  truths  whereon  the  total  reconstruction 
of  the  public  order  might  be  based  :  and  their 
practical  effect  is  the  effacement  of  the  individual,  the 
death    of   personal   liberty,  and    the   destruction   of 

human  progress 19 

What  Jacobin  fraternity  really  means 31 

The  Declaration  is   in  fact  what  Burke  declared  it  to  be  : 

"  a  sort  of  institute  or  digest  of  anarchy  "    .      .      .       37 

CHAPTER    II 
The  Revolution  and  Religion 

The  contest  carried  on  in  France  for  long  years  between 
the  politicians  dominating  that  country  and  Catho- 
licism, is  one  of  the  most  striking  facts  of  contem- 
porary history 39 

Ignorance    of    most    English    readers    regarding    the    true 

facts  of  it,  and  the  reason  of  that  ignorance  ...        40 

But  no  one  who  has  lived  in  France,  or  who  has  associated 
much  with  French  people,  can  honestly  doubt  that 
the  aim  of  the  party  now  in  power  there  is  to  de- 
catholicize,  to  dechristianize,  that  country       ...       40 

The  object  of  the  present  Chapter  is  to  explain  why  this 

is  so 40 

For  an  explanation  of  the  present  position  of  Church  and 
State  in  France,  we  must  go  back  to  the  time  when 
Catholicism  was  confronted  with  the  great  Revolution       40 

Sketch  of  the  history  of  the  pre-revolutionary  Church  in 

France 41 

The  Church  had  been,  of  necessity,  intimately  associated 
with,  nay  incorporated  in,  the  feudal  organization 
of  society  :  when  the  Revolution  broke  out,  feudal- 
ism had  ceased  to  be  a  political  institution,  but  it 
cumbered  the  ground  as  a  civil  and  social  institution, 
and  it  was,  not  unnaturally,  an  object  of  popular 
hatred  :    in  that  hatred  the  Church  shared     ...       47 


SUMMARY  xi 


PAGE 


Moreover,  it  was  full  of  flagrant  and  utterly  indefensible 
abuses.  The  distribution  of  its  great  wealth  was 
scandalous.  The  forty  thousand  parish  priests 
were  in  abject  poverty.  The  emoluments  of  the 
higher  clergy,  taken  almost  exclusively  from  the 
noble  caste,  and  infected  to  some  extent  with  its 
vices  and  sceptical  tone  of  thought,  were  vast  .      .        48 

Moreover,  the  persecutions  of  Protestants  and  Jansenists, 
urged  by  the  Assembly  of  the  Clergy,  shocked  and 
outraged  the  humanitarian  sentiment  which  had 
become  dominant 53 

Further,   the    Church,   alone    of    the  three  estates  of    the 
realm,  had  preserved  not  merely  the  forms  but  some 
of  the  substance  of  freedom.     This,  however,  as  will 
be  explained  later  on,  served  only  to   increase  the' 
animosity  of  the  revolutionary  legislators  against  it  .        55 

Such  was  the  Church  in  France,  when  the  Revolution  broke 

out.     What  was  the  Revolution  ? 57 

No  doubt  it  was  primarily  a  revolt  against  feudal  privileges 
which,  having  no  longer  a  reason  for  existing,  had 
become  iniquitous 57 

Those  privileges  all  went  in  a  mass  on  the  famous  night  of 
the  4th  of  August,  when  the  France  of  history 
vanished  :  but  after  destroying,  the  National  Assem- 
bly  had    to    rebuild 57 

Their  method  was  to  translate  into  institutions  the  doctrines 

of  Rousseau 59 

The  unit  of  Rousseau's  speculations  is  an  abstract  man,  who 

never  has  existed  and  never  will  exist   ....        59 

His  system,  aptly  described  as  a  sort  of  political  geometry, 
starts  with  four  postulates  which  he  presents  as 
axioms,  and  upon  which  he  rears  his  wordy  edifice  ; 
that  man  is  naturally  good  ;  that  man  is  essentially 
rational  ;  that  freedom  and  sovereignty  are  his 
birthright ;  that  civil  society  rests  upon  a  contract 
between  these  free  and  equal  sovereign  units,  in 
virtue  of  which  each,  while  surrendering  his  individual 
sovereignty,  obtains  an  equal  share  in  the  collective 
sovereignty,  and  so,  in  obeying  it,  as  exercised  by  the 
majority  of  the  units,  obeys  only  himself.  And  to 
this  collective  sovereignty  he  allows  no  limits     .      .       60 


xii  SUMMARY 

P\GE 

Animated    by    these   sentiments,    the    National    Assembly 

turned  its  attention  to  the  CathoHc  Church  in  France       6r 

The  cures,  who  were  among  the  representatives,  had  dis- 
played unbounded  sympathy  with  the  popular  cause, 
and  demanded  far-reaching  reforms.  But  their 
demands,  though  far-reaching,  by  no  means  repre- 
sented the  views  of  the  majority  in  the  National 
Assembly.  They  had  before  their  eyes  the  teaching 
of  Rousseau,  who  desired  for  his  Utopia  a  religion 
which  should  be  part  of  the  machinery  of  the  omni- 
potent State  and,  in  all  respects,  subject  to  its  con- 
trol. No  Church  at  all  seemed  to  him  preferable 
to  a  Church  which  should  break  what  he  calls  "  the 
social  unity  " 6i 

They  began  by  stripping  it  bare  of  its  revenues,  and  so 
destroying  its  corporate  character  and  the  measure 
of  independence  which  it  had  possessed  under  the 
ancien  regime.  Having  thus  rendered  it  defenceless, 
they  proceeded  to  regulate  its  constitution      ...       63 

That  task  they  entrusted  chiefly  to  the  Jansenists  among 
them,  few  in  number,  but  strong  in  learning  and  in 
character 63 

Who,  it  was  felt,  would  effectively  shape  a  law  destructive  of 
the  Catholicity  of  the  Church  in  cutting  it  off  from 
the  Holy  See 63 

This  was  essential  to  the  conversion  of  the  clergy  into  a 
department  of  the  State,  which  was  the  main  object 
of  the  Constitution  Civile 64 

The  Constitution   Civile  was  condemned  by  the  Pope,  and 

the  vast  majority  of  the  clergy  refused  to  accept  it       66 

The  National  Assembly,  acting  on  Rousseau's  doctrine  that 
the  people  have  the  right  of  imposing,  under  the 
penalty  of  death,  the  cult  which  seems  most  useful 
for  the  public  weal,  inflicted  a  bitter  persecution 
upon  the  orthodox  clergy,  and  in  the  event  those 
of  them  who  escaped  death  became  exiles  ....       66 

The  Revolution  was  not  a  political  movement  only  :  it  was 
a  sort  of  religion  founded  on  the  doctrines  of  Rousseau 
and  claiming  to  replace  the  Catholic 69 

This  sufficiently  explains  the  rooted  hostility  to  Catholicism 
which  animated  the  men  of  the  first  Revolution,  and 


SUMMARY  xiii 

PAGE 

which  equally  animates  their  successors  now  bearing 

rule  in  France 74 

An  epitome  of  the  religious  history  of  France  from  1789  to 

1799 74 

But  there  were  among  the  Revolutionary  leaders  those  who 
appreciated  the  dictum,  "  On  ne  tue  que  ce  qu'on 
remplace,"  and  who  sought  to  provide  substitutes  for 

Christianity 87 

Among  these  was  Chaumette  with  his  Goddess  of  Reason       88 

Robespierre  with  his   Eire-SuprSme 92 

And  Larevelliere  Lepaux  with  his  Theophilanthropy   .      .       95 
But   these  substitutes,   when   tried,   were  found   wanting  : 
their   chief   practical    effect    was    to    accelerate   the 

Christian  reaction 97 

The  ill  success  of  these  experiments  do  not  afford  encourage- 
ment for  the  present  rulers  of  France  to  set  up  a 
new  religion  of  their  own  :  they  appear  to  be  content 
to  rest  in  sheer  Atheism,  and  are  indoctrinating  with 
it  the  children  of  their  country 98 


CHAPTER    III 

The  Anti-Christian  Crusade 

In  the  last  Chapter  the  anti-Christian  legislation  of  the 
Revolution  was  considered.  In  this,  some  details 
will  be  given  of  atrocities  perpetrated  in  anticipation 
or  in  pursuance  of  that  legislation 100 

One  of  those  atrocities  was  the  taking  of  the  Bastille  and 
the  murder  of  its  little  garrison — a  cowardly  crime 
exalted  into  an  act  of  heroism  and  glorified  by  a 
m.tiona.1  fete loi 

Such,  too,  was  the  attack  upon  the  Lazar,  the  house  of  St. 
Vincent  de  Paul  and  the  centre  of  his  vast  work  of 
beneficence 103 

But  the  full  story  of  the  crusade  against  Christianity,  which 
was  the  distinctive  mark,  the  special  note  of  the  Revo- 
lution from  1789  to  1799,  has  never  been  told    .      .      105 

A  general,  and  as  far  as  possible,  complete  martyrology  oi 
the  Catholics  who  suffered  during  the  French 
Revolution  is  much  to  be  desired,  and  the  foundations 


xiv  SUMMABY 

PAGE 

of  it  have  already  been  laid  in  diocesan  memoirs, 

monographs,   and   the   like 105 

Twelve  such  works  enumerated 106 

A  few  extracts  from  them 108 

M.  Desir6  Nisard's  account  of  the  regime  of  the  hulks    .      .  112 

An  ordination  during  the  persecution 114 


CHAPTER    IV 

A  Typical  Jacobin 

Fouche  may  be  regarded  as  "  la  Revolution  faite  homme  "  117 

His  early  career  as  an  Oratorian 118 

Elected  to  the  National  Convention  in  1792 122 

Begins  his  political  life  as  a  Girondin,  but  soon  gravitates 

towards  the  Left 122 

Votes  for  the  murder  of  the  King,  and  defends  his  vote  by  a 

violent  pamphlet 123 

Sent  en  mission  to  the  west  of  France 123 

His   sanguinary   and   sacrilegious   exploits   at   Nantes   and 

Nevers 124 

And  at  Lyons 126 

Recalled  by  the  Convention  to  Paris 129 

Antipathy  between  him  and  Robespierre 130 

Successfully  intrigues  for  the  fall  of  Robespierre     .      .      .  131 

Plots  with  Barras  the  coup  d'etat  of  the  13th  of  Vend6miaire  135 

The  beginning  of  his  immense  fortune 136 

Plans  and  induces  Barras  to  carry  out  the  coup  d'Stat  of 

Fructidor 136 

Named  by  the  Directory  Minister  of  the  General  Police  of 

the  Republic 137 

Makes  the  acquaintance  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte     .      .      .  140 
Becomes  one  of  the  conspiracy  issuing  in  the  coup  d'Stat  of 

Brumairc 141 

His  tortuous  career  during  the  Consulate  and  Empire   .      .  142 

Is  Napoleon's  Minister  of  Police  during  the  Hundred  Days  145 
Arranges  for  the  return  of  Louis  XVIII.  to  Paris,  and  is 

nominated  Secretary  of  State  and  Minister  of  Police 

to  that  monarch 146 

His  enlightened  policy 149 

His  second  marriage 150 


SU3IMART  XV 


PAGE 


His  fall 153 

His  death 153 

His  character 155 


CHAPTER   V 

The  Founder  of  a  New  Church 

Talleyrand's  early  years 157 

Receives  minor  orders  and  is  known  in  Parisian  society  as 

the  Abbe  de  Perigord 159 

His  reputation  at  that  period 159 

Elected  an  Agent  of  the  Clergy 160 

Recommended  in  vain  for  a  Cardinal's  hat 161 

Obtains  the  Bishopric  of  Autun 162 

Elected  to  the  States-General 164 

Proposes  the  confiscation  of  the  property  of   the  clergy,  of 

which   the   Civil   Constitution   was   the   logical   and 

necessary  consequence 166 

Gouverneur  Morris's  account  of  him  at  this  period  .      .      .  167 

His  magnetic  power  and  curious  influence  over  women  .      .  168 

Consecrates  a  Bishop  for  the  Constitutional  Church  .      .      .  170 

In  England 171 

Returns  to  Paris  for  a  brief  time,  and  writes  in  defence  of 

the  crimes  of  the  Provisional  Government  .  .  .  172 
Returns  to  London,  whence  he  is  expelled  under  the  Aliens 

Act,  and  proceeds  to  the  United  States  of  America  .  1 74 
Through  the  influence  of  Madame  de  Stael,   his  name  is 

struck  out  of  the  list  of  Emigres  and  he  returns  to 

France  and  is  appointed  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  175 

Madame  Grand 176 

The  Brief  of  Secularization 181 

Marriage  to  Madame  Grand 182 

Separates  from  Madame  Talleyrand 184 

The  Duchesse  de  Dino 185 

Goes  to  England  as  Ambassador 188 

Reconciliation  with  the  Church 189 

Key  to  his  hfe 190 

His  death 192 


xvi  SUMMARY 


CHAPTER   VI 

A  Paladin  of  the  Restoration 

PAGE 

Chateaubriand's  mission 194 

Sources  for  a  knowledge  of  him 195 

Many  British  readers,  influenced  by  recent  revelations  of 

his  sexual  irregularities,  regard  him  as  a  hypocrite    .  197 

Falseness  of  this  view 198 

The  Christian  teaching  as  to  the  virtue  of  purity     .      .      .  201 
This  view  largely  inoperative  in  the  age  and  country  into 

which  Chateaubriand  was  born  :    and  he  was  of  his 

age 202 

Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  his  lapses  from  chastity  were,  in 

some  sort,  a  manifestation — illicit,  unfortunately — 

of  the  more  striking  of  his  psychical  endowments       .  203 

The  Breton  temperament 204 

His  high  qualities  now  properly  appreciated  in  France  .      .  205 

His  origin 206 

His  childhood  and  youth 206 

Appointed  sub-lieutenant  in  the  Navarre  regiment    .      .      .  207 

Leaves  the  army 208 

His  visit  to  America 208 

Element  of  fiction  in  his  account  of  his  travels  there,  and 

an  explanation  of  it 208 

Marries  and  joins  Conde's  army 211 

Is  invalided  and  goes  to  England 211 

Begins  Le  Genie  du  Chrisiianisme 213 

Returns  to  France,  bringing  the  manuscript  of  Le  Genie 

with  him 213 

Is  introduced  to  Joubert  and  to  Madame  de  Beaumont       .  213 

Some  account  of  Madame  de  Beaumont 213 

Her  relations  with  Chateaubriand 217 

She  helps  him  with  the  Genie 218 

The  Genie  is  published  and  takes  the  world  by  storm     .      .  219 

What  it  accomplished 221 

Bonaparte  offers  Chateaubriand   the  post  of  Secretary  of 

Legation  in  Rome 222 

He   accepts   it,   and   Madame   de   Beaumont   follows   him 

thither 222 

Madame  de  Beaumont's  death 223 

Chateaubriand's  desolation 225 


SUMMARY  xvii 

PAGE 

Chateaubriand  appointed  French  Minister  to  the  Repubhc 

of  the  Valais 226 

Resigns    that    appointment  on   the    murder  of    the    Due 

d'Enghien 227 

His  literary  career 229 

His  Memoires 230 

Fall  of  Napoleon  and  first  restoration  of  Louis  XVIII.  .  233 
The   Battle   of   Waterloo   and    the  second    restoration   of 

Louis  XVIII 235 

Chateaubriand    nominated    to    the    peerage    and    made    a 

Councillor  of  State 236 

Desires  an  alliance  between  legitimism  and  liberty  vvliich 

could  not  be  realized 237 

Turned  to  journalism,  and  his  brilliant  articles  become  a 

great  political  power 238 

Madame  Recamier 239 

Chateaubriand  Ambassador  at  Berlin 240 

Chateaubriand  Ambassador  in  England 241 

The  Congress  of  Verona 241 

Chateaubriand  Foreign  Minister       .........  242 

The  Spanish  War 243 

Dismissed  from  office 243 

Puts  his  pen  at  the  service  of  the  Journal  des  Debats     .      .  244 

Fall  of  the  Villele  Ministry 244 

Chateaubriand  accepts  the  Embassy  at  Rome  ....  244 
Returns  to  France  and  resigns  his  Embassy  on  the  formation 

of  the  Polignac  Ministry 245 

Refuses  to  take  the  oath  to  Louis  Philippe,  and  resigns  his 

peerage 248 

His  relations  with  Hortense  Allart 249 

His  friendship  with  Beranger 253 

His  death 255 

A  posthumous  scandal 255 

His  ruling  passion 258 

CHAPTER   VII 

L'Ame  Moderne 

All  the  tendencies  of  our    epoch  reflected  in  Paul  Bourget. 
Object  of  this  Chapter:  to  catch  and  to  present  that 

reflection 261 


xviii  SUMMARY 


PAGE 


High  gifts  of  M.  Bourget 261 

Sketch  of  his  career 262 

His  works  hoki  all  together 265 

Step  by  step  he  reaches  distinctly  Christian  conclusions      .      266 
And  has  thrown  in  his  lot  with  the  religious  tradition  of 
Old  France,   which  the  Revolution  sought  and  still 

seeks  to  destroy 267 

Has   not  escaped   from   the  influence  of   the   lubricity  so 

firmly  estabUshed  in  French  fiction 269 

A  brief  sketch  will  be  given  of  two  of  his  books  which  are  of 
special  interest  from  the  view  which  he  is  led  to  take 
of  certain  tendencies  of  thought,   of  certain  social 

phenomena,  in  the  New  France 271 

First :    Le  Fantome,  a  brief  account  of  the  story     .      .      .     272 

The  ethical  significance 290 

Second  :   Le  Disciple  :  its  keynote  struck  in  its  "  Dedication 

a  Un  Jeune  Homme  " 293 

The  story 294 

Brunetiere's  judgment  of  the  book  :   "  not  only  an  admirable 

bit  of  literature,  but  a  good  action  " 307 

It  exhibits  the  practical  working  of  the  intellectual  nihilism 
held,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  by  the  leaders  of 
the  anti-Christian  campaign  calling  itself  la  la'icUe, 

now  triumphant  in  France 307 

A  doctrine,  like  a  tree,  may  be  judged  by  its  fruits    .      .      .      307 
A  philosophy  which  makes  unreason  the  last  word  is  self- 
condemned       308 


The  First  Chapter  of  this  book  is  reprinted,  with  additions  and 
omissions,  from  a  work  entitled  "  Chapters  in  European 
History,"  which  has  been  long  out  of  print.  The  greater  part 
of  the  rest  of  it  is  reclaimed  from  the  Quarterly  Review,  the 
Dublin  Review,  the  Fortnightly  Review,  and  the  Nineteenth 
Century,  by  the  kind  permission  of  the  respective  proprietors 
and  editors  of  those  magazines,  which  I  desire  here  to  acknow- 
ledge, with  due  thanks. 

W.  S.  L. 


■I         »  * 


•      '>  >   > 

»      1      >  J 


THE  NEW   FRANCE 


CHAPTER  I 

■^    The  Principles  of  1789 

I 

The  great  Revolution  of  1789  brought  into  exis- 
tence a  New  France.  It  meant  a  change  not 
merely  in  the  accidental  arrangements,  but  in  the 
very  basis  of  civil  society.  It  was  a  daring 
attempt  to  recreate  a  nation.  The  attempt  largely 
succeeded.  Balzac  truly  says,  "  the  Revolution  is 
implanted  in  the  soil,  written  in  the  laws,  living 
in  the  popular  mind  "  of  the  country.  In  the 
present  volume  I  propose  to  deal  with  some  of  the 
more  noticeable  aspects  of  this  New  France,  as 
exhibited  in  politics  and  literature.  I  do  not 
pretend  to  offer  to  my  readers  a  homogeneous 
work.  I  shall  merely  put  before  them  studies 
w^hich,  written  from  different  points  of  view,  have 
this  in  common,  that  they  are  informed  by  the 
same  ethos,  and  point  to  the  same  conclusions. 
Possibly  in  the  hurly-burly  of   twentieth-century 

»  B 


2  THE  PBINOPLES  OF   1789  [ch. 

life,  when  "  half  our  knowledge  we  must  snatch 
not  take/'  these  separate  but  not  isolated  dis- 
cussions ma}/  be  of  special  utility.  They  may 
assist  towards  a  right  judgment,  ingenuous  and 
inquiring  minds  possessing  neither  time  nor  taste 
for  protracted  and  precise  investigation  of  a 
subject  so  encyclopaedic  as  the  New  France.  They 
may  help  such  readers  to  discern  the  true  character 
of  the  relations  between  the  revolutionary  spirit 
and  religion,  to  seize  the  real  significance  of  the 
careers  of  some  representative  men,  to  appreciate 
rightly  the  existing  condition,  moral  and  intel- 
lectual, of  the  third  Republic. 


II 

But  it  is  desirable  to  begin  with  the  beginning 
and  to  understand  the  foundation  on  which  the 
makers  of  the  New  France  raised  their  political 
and  social  edifice  :  to  apprehend  correctly  those 
**  principles  of  1789,"  often  so  ignorantly  talked 
about.  There  is  really  no  excuse  for  such  ignor- 
ance, for  the  legislators  of  the  Constituent 
Assembly  embodied  their  dogmas  in  that  famous 
Declaration  of  the  Rights  of  the  Man  and  the 
Citizen  which  von  Sybel  has  well  termed  "  a 
mighty  landmark  between  two  ages  of  the  world." 
Fortunately  it  is  not  a  lengthy  document,  and  I 
shall  proceed  to  present  it  in  its  entirety.  It  will, 
of  course,  be  remembered  that  the  object  of  the 
Constituent  Assembly  was  to  make  a  tabula  rasa 


I]  DECLARATION  OF  THE  RIGHTS  OF  MAN  3 

of  the  past,  to  reconstruct  civil  society  upon  the 
basis  of  pure  reason  :  and  this  Declaration  is  the 
result  of  their  prolonged  labours.^ 

"  The  representatives  of  the  French  people  constituted  in 
National  Assembly,  considering  that  ignorance,  forgetfulness, 
or  contempt  of  the  rights  of  man,  are  the  sole  cause  of  public 
misfortunes  and  of  the  corruption  of  governments,  have 
resolved  to  set  forth,  in  a  solemn  Declaration,  the  natural 
inalienable  and  sacred  rights  of  man  ;  that  this  Declaration 
being  constantly  present  to  all  the  members  of  the  body 
social,  may  unceasingly  recall  to  them  their  rights  and  their 
duties  ;  that  the  acts  of  the  legislative  power,  and  those  of  the 
executive  power,  being  capable  of  being  every  moment  com- 
pared with  the  end  of  every  political  institution,  may  be  more 
respected ;  that  the  claims  of  the  citizens,  being  founded,  in 
future,  on  simple  and  incontestable  principles,  may  always 
tend  to  the  maintenance  of  the  Constitution,  and  the  general 
happiness. 


^  "  Je  me  rappelle,"  says  Dumont,  "  cette  longue  discussion 
qui  dura  des  semaines,  comme  un  temps  d'ennui  mortel ;  values 
disputes  de  mots,  fatras  metaphysique,  bavardage  assommant ; 
I'Assemblee  s'etait  convertie  en  ecole  de  Sorbonne."  Quoted  by 
Taine,  in  Les  Origines  de  la  France  Contemporaine,  vol.  i.  p.  162. 
Of  the  method  pursued  by  the  Assembly,  Taine  writes  as  follows  : — 
"  C'est  de  parti-pris  qu'ils  renversent  le  precede  ordinaire. 
Jusqu'ici  on  construisait  ou  Ton  reparait  une  Constitution  comme 
un  navire.  On  procedait  par  tatonnements  ou  sur  le  module  des 
vaisseaux  voisins  ;  on  souhaitait  avant  tout  que  le  batiment  put 
naviguer  ;  on  subordonnait  sa  structure  a  son  service  ;  on  le 
faisait  tel  ou  tel  selon  les  materiaux  dont  on  disposait ;  on 
commen9ait  par  examiner  les  materiaux  ;  on  tachait  d'estimer 
leur  rigidite,  leur  pesanteur  et  leur  resistance. — Tout  cela  est 
arriere,  le  siecle  de  la  raison  est  venu,  et  I'Assemblee  est  trop 
eclairee  pour  se  trainer  dans  la  routine.  Conformement  aux 
habitudes  du  temps,  elle  opere  par  deduction  a  la  maniere  de 
Rousseau,  d'apres  une  notion  abstraite  du  droit  de  I'Etat  et  du 
Contrat  Social.     De  cette  fa9on,   et  par  le  seule   vertu   de   la 


4  TEE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789  [ch. 

"  For  these  reasons,  the  National  Assembly  recognizes  and 
declares,  in  the  presence  and  under  the  auspices  of  the  Supreme 
Being,  the  following  rights  of  the  Man  and  the  Citizen  : — 

"  I.  Men  are  born  and  continue  free  and  equal  in  rights. 
Social  distinctions  can  be  founded  only  on  common 
utility. 

"  II.  The  end  of  every  political  association  is  the  pre- 
servation of  the  natural  and  imprescriptible  rights  of  man. 
These  rights  are  liberty,  security,  and  resistance  to  oppression. 

"  III.  The  principle  of  all  sovereignty  resides  essentially 
in  the  nation  ;  no  body,  no  individual,  can  exercise  authority 
which  does  not  expressly  emanate  from  it. 

"  IV.  Liberty  consists  in  the  power  of  doing  whatever 
does  not  injure  another. 

"  V.  The  law  ought  to  prohibit  only  actions  hurtful  to 
society.  What  is  not  prohibited  by  the  law  should  not  be 
hindered,  and  no  one  can  be  constrained  to  do  what  it  does 
not  order. 

"  VI.  The  law  is  the  expression  of  the  general  will.  All 
citizens  have  a  right  to  concur,  either  personally  or  by  their 
representatives,  in  its  formation.  It  should  be  the  same  for 
all,  whether  it  protects  or  punishes.  All  citizens  being  equal 
in  its  eyes,  are  equally  eligible  to  all  honours,  places,  and 
public  employments,  according  to  their  capacity,  and  without 
other  distinction  than  that  of  their  virtues  and  talents. 

"  VII.  No  man  can  be  accused,  arrested,  or  held  in  con- 
finement, except  in  cases  determined  by  the  law,  and  according 
to  the  forms  it  has  prescribed.  All  who  solicit,  promote, 
execute,  or  cause  to  be  executed,  arbitrary  orders,  ought  to 
be  punished  ;  but  every  citizen  summoned  or  apprehended 
by  virtue  of  the  law  ought  immediately  to  obey  ;  he  renders 
himself  culpable  by  resistance. 

"  VIII.  The  law  ought  to  impose  no  other  penalties  than 
such  as  arc  absolutely  and  evidently  necessary  ;   and  no  one 


g6om6trie  politique,  on  aura  le  navire  ideal ;  puisqu'il  est  ideal, 
il  est  sur  qu'il  naviguera,  et  bien  mieux  que  tous  les  navires 
empiriques.     Sur  ce  principe  lis  l^giferent."     Ibid.  p.  i6i, 


I]  TRUISMS  AND  SOPH  I S  31 S  5 

ought  to  be  punished  but  in  virtue  of  a  law  estabhshed  and 
promulgated  before  the  offence,  and  legally  applied. 

"IX.  Every  man  being  presumed  innocent  till  he  has 
been  found  guilty,  whenever  his  detention  becomes  indis- 
pensable, all  rigour  towards  him,  beyond  what  is  necessary 
to  secure  his  person,  ought  to  be  severely  repressed  by  the  law. 

"X.  No  man  ought  to  be  molested  on  account  of  his 
opinions,  not  even  on  account  of  his  religious  opinions,  pro- 
vided their  manifestation  does  not  disturb  the  public  order 
established  by  the  law. 

"  XI.  The  unrestrained  communication  of  thoughts  and 
opinions  is  one  of  the  most  precious  rights  of  man.  Every 
citizen,  therefore,  may  speak,  write,  and  print  freely,  pro- 
vided he  is  responsible  for  the  abuse  of  this  liberty  in  cases 
determined  by  the  law. 

*'  XII.  A  public  force  being  necessary  to  give  security  to 
the  rights  of  the  Man  and  the  Citizen,  that  force  is  instituted 
for  the  advantage  of  all,  and  not  for  the  particular  benefit 
of  the  persons  to  whom  it  is  entrusted. 

"  XIII.  A  common  contribution  is  indispensable  for  the 
support  of  the  public  force,  and  for  the  expenses  of  govern- 
ment ;  it  ought  to  be  assessed  equally  among  all  the  citizens, 
according  to  their  means. 

"  XIV.  All  citizens  have  the  right,  either  by  themselves 
or  their  representatives,  to  determine  the  necessity  of  the 
public  contribution,  freely  to  consent  to  it,  to  supervise  its 
employment,  to  determine  its  apportionment,  assessment, 
collection  and  duration. 

"  XV.  The  community  has  a  right  to  demand  of  every 
public  agent  an  account  of  his  administration. 

"  XVI.  Every  community  in  which  the  guarantee  of  rights 
is  not  assured,  nor  the  separation  of  powers  determined,  has 
no  constitution. 

"  XVII.  All  property  being  an  inviolable  and  sacred  right, 
no  one  can  be  deprived  of  it,  save  where  the  public  necessity 
evidently  requires  it,  and  on  condition  of  a  just  and  previous 
indemnity." 


6  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  1789  [ch. 

Such  is  the  famous  Declaration  of  the  Rights  of 
the  Man  and  the  Citizen  :  perhaps  the  most  curious 
medley  of  truisms  and  sophisms,  fragments  of 
philosophy  and  of  criminal  procedure,  literary 
commonplaces  and  rhetorical  bravuras  the  world 
has  ever  seen.  Its  immediate  results  are  best 
exhibited  in  Taine's  great  work,  which  throws 
such  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  actors  and  events 
of  the  French  Revolution.^  The  author  pictures 
to  us,  in  his  graphic  way,  the  effect  produced  by 
these  *'  rights,"  as  proclaimed  by  the  orator  of 
the  club  or  the  streets.  Every  article  of  the  De- 
claration, he  observes,  was  a  poignard  directed 
against  human  society.  It  was  only  necessary  to 
push  the  handle  in  order  to  drive  the  blade  home. 
For  example,  among  "  the  natural  and  impre- 
scriptible rights  "  of  the  Man  and  the  Citizen,  is 
mentioned  "  resistance  to  oppression."  The  Jaco- 
bin missionary  assures  his  hearers  that  they  are 
oppressed,  and  invites  them — nay,  it  is  not  he, 
it  is  the  preamble  of  the  Declaration  which  invites 
them — to  judge  for  themselves  the  acts  of  the 
legislative  and  executive  power,  and  to  rise  in 
arms.  Again,  it  is  laid  down  as  the  right  of  the 
community  to  demand  of  every  public  agent  an 
account  of  administration.  The  populace  obey 
the  invitation,  and  proceed  to  the  hotel  de  ville  to 
interrogate  a  lukewarm  or  suspected  magistrate  ; 
and,  if  the  fanc}'  takes  them,  to  hang  him  on  the 

*  Les  Origines  de  la  France  Contemporainc.     I  have  before  me 
as  I  write,  pp.  275,  27C  of  vol.  i. 


I]       FRUITS  OF  THE  DECLARATION       7 

nearest  lamp-post.  Or,  once  more  there  is  the 
proposition  tliat  "  the  law  is  the  expression  of  the 
general  will."  A  mob  then,  as  the  living  law,  ma}^ 
supersede  the  lex  scripta.  All  this  is  not  mere 
play  of  the  imagination.  These  deductions  from 
the  Declaration  were  actually  drawn  and  put  into 
practice  throughout  France,  the  result  being  what 
Taine  calls  a  universal  and  permanent  jacquerie. 
Everywhere  in  the  forty  thousand  sovereign  muni- 
cipalities into  which  the  country  had  been  divided, 
"  une  minorite  de  fanatiques  et  d'ambitieux 
accapare  la  parole,  I'influence,  les  suffrages,  le 
pouvoir.  Taction,  et  autorise  ses  usurpations  multi- 
plees,  son  despotisme  sans  frein,  ses  attentats  crois- 
sants, par  la  Declaration  des  droits  de  I'homme."  ^ 
Exitus  acta  prohat.  These  fruits  of  the  Declaration 
are  a  significant  commentary  upon  it.  But  let  us 
turn  to  the  document  itself. 


Ill 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  comment  upon  the 
articles  of  the  Declaration  one  by  one.  To  do  so 
would  take  me  too  far  ;  nor,  as  I  venture  to  think, 
would  such  an  undertaking  be  worth  the  pains 
that  would  have  to  be  bestowed  upon  it.  Not, 
indeed,  that  I  wish  to  deny  or  ignore  how  much 
there  is  in  the  Declaration  that  is  unquestionabl}^ 
good  ;  for  example,  its  proclamation  of  equality 
before  the  law,  of  "  la  carriere  ouverte  aux  talens," 

^  Ibid.  p.  279. 


8  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789  [ch. 

of  the  death  of  privilege  ;  its  enunciation  of  the 
truth — recognized  in  the  Middle  Ages  as  a  prime 
political  axiom/  but  trampled  upon  by  three 
centuries  of  Renaissance  Csesarism — that  govern- 
ment exists  for  the  benefit  of  the  governed,  and 
that  rulers  are  responsible  to  the  ruled  ;  ^  its  police 
regulations  presenting  so  favourable  a  contrast 
to  the  savage  criminal  jurisprudence  which  it 
superseded,  with  the  hideous  question  pripara- 
toire  and  other  horrors  :  its  vindication,  as  admir- 
able as  inoperative,  of  the  sacredness  and  in- 
violabihty  of  property.  Nor  do  I  deny  that  other 
portions  of  it,  dubious  as  they  stand  in  the  text, 
may  be  accepted  as  true,  partially,  or  under  con- 
ditions. Thus  the  definition  of  liberty  in  Art.  IV. 
may  pass,  perhaps,  if  civil  liberty  alone  is  meant. ^ 
But  it  is  obviously  an  imperfect  account  of  freedom, 
taken  in  general,  and  in  all  the  different  senses  of 
the  word.  Better  is  the  doctrine  of  George  Eliot : 
"  True  liberty  is  nought  but  the  transfer  of  obedi- 
ence from  the  rule  of  one  or  of  a  few  men  to  that 

^  Thus  the  well-known  dictum  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  "  Civis 
regitur  in  commodum  suum,  non  in  commodum  magistratus." 
See  also  the  passage  from  the  Summa,  quoted  on  the  next  page. 

2  On  this  subject  Suarez,  in  a  chapter  which  expresses  the 
teaching  of  the  schools,  observes,  inter  alia  :  "  Si  rex  justam  suam 
potestatem  in  tyrannidem  verteret,  ilia  in  manifestam  civitatis 
perniciem  abutendo,  posset  populus  naturali  potestate  ad  se 
defendendum  uti  :  hac  enim  nunquam  se  privavit." — Defensio 
Fidei  CatholiccB,  lib.  iii.  c.  iii. 

^  Bcntham,  writing  from  a  different  point  of  view  from  mine, 
has  severely  criticised  this  definition.  See  Dumont's  Traiie  de 
Legislation,  p.  80  (London  University  reprint). 


I]  THE  RIGHTFUL  LAWGIVER  9 

will  which  is  the  norm  or  rule  for  all  men."  ^  The 
philosophers  of  the  Constituent  Assembly  lost  sight 
of  the  fact  that  obedience  is  an  essential  need  of 
human  nature.  Again,  the  definition  of  law  in 
Art.  VI.  as  '*  the  expression  of  the  general  will  " 
is  extremely  lame  :  is  open,  indeed,  to  precisely 
the  same  objection  which  St.  Thomas  Aquinas 
makes  to  the  servile  maxim  of  the  Roman  juris- 
consults :  "  Quod  principi  placuit  legis  vigorem 
habet  "  ; — namely,  that  unless  the  will  of  the 
legislator  be  regulated  by  reason,  "  magis  esset 
iniquitas  quam  lex."  -  And,  once  more,  the  right 
of  resistance  to  oppression,  just  and  salutary 
within  proper  limits,^  if  stated  in  the  naked  way 

^  Felix  Holt,  the  Radical,  chap.  xiii. 

2  It  is  well  observed  by  Coleridge,  "  It  is  not  the  actual  man, 
but  the  abstract  reason  alone  that  is  the  sovereign  and  rightful 
lawgiver.  The  confusion  of  two  things  so  different  is  so  gross 
an  error,  that  the  Constituent  Assembly  could  hardly  proceed 
a  step  in  their  Declaration  of  Rights  without  a  glaring  incon- 
sistency."— The  Friend,  Essay  iv. 

3  It  seems  to  me  difficult  to  conceive  of  juster  views  on  this 
subject  than  those  expressed  by  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  which  I 
subjoin.  He  teaches  that  a  tyrannical  government  is  not  a 
lawful  government,  and  that  a  general  rising  against  such  a  govern- 
ment is  not  sedition,  provided  it  does  not  involve  evils  greater 
than  those  which  it  seeks  to  remed)-.  He  also  points  out  that 
where  the  ruler  bears  sway  in  virtue  of  a  constitutional  pact  (and 
such  was  the  case  in  most  medieval  governments,  as  the  Coronation 
offices — our  own,  for  example — sufficiently  witness),  breach  of 
that  pact  entitles  his  subjects  to  depose  him.  His  words  are  as 
follows  :  "  Regimen  tyrannicum  non  est  justum,  quia  non 
ordinatur  ad  bonum  commune,  sed  ad  bonum  privatum  regentis, 
ut  patet  per  philosophum  ;  et  ideo  perturbatio  hujus  regiminis 
non  habet  rationem  seditionis,  nisi  forte  quando  sic  inordinate 
perturbatur  tyranni  regimen,   quod   multitude  subjecta   majus 


10  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789  [ch. 

in  which  we  find  it  in  Art.  II.,  seems  perilously 
like  the  proclamation  of  a  general  right  of  insurrec- 
tion. But  these,  and  other  provisions,  upon  which 
I  need  not  linger,  whether  good  absolutely,  or  good 
with  limitations  and  explanations,  are — if  I  ma\' 
so  speak — not  of  the  essence,  but  of  the  accidents 
of  the  Declaration,  and  are  vitiated  by  the  demon- 
strably false  principles  which  underlie  it.  It  is 
in  the  Preamble  and  in  the  first  three  articles  that 
these  principles  find  expression,  and  they  may  be 
summed  up  in  the  two  following  propositions. 

I.  That  the  true  conception  of  mankind  is  that 
of  a  mass  of  sovereign  human  units,  by  nature 
free,  equal  in  rights,  and  virtuous. 


detrimentum  patitur  ex  perturbatione  consequenti  quam  ex 
tyranni  regimine.  Magis  autem  tyrannus  seditiosus  est,  qui  in 
populo  sibi  subjecto  discordias  nutrit  et  seditiones,  ut  tutius 
dominari  possit ;  hoc  enim  tyrannicum  est,  cum  sit  ordinatum 
ad  bonum  proprium  pra^sidentis  cum  multitudinis  nocumento." — 
Summa,  2,  2,  q.  42,  a.  2  ad  3.  "  Secundum  illud  Ezech.  22, 
Principes  ejus  in  medio  illius,  quasi  lupi  rapientes  praedam  ad 
effundendum  sanguinem.  Et  ideo,  sicut  licet  resistere  latronibus, 
ita  licet  resistere  in  tali  casu  malis  principibus,  nisi  forte  propter 
scandalum  vitandum." — Ibid.,  q.  69,  a.  4. 

"  Et  quidem  si  non  fuerit  excessus  tyrannidis  utilius  est 
remissam  tyrannidem  tolerare  ad  tempus,  quam  contra  tyrannum 
agendo  multis  implicari  periculis,  quffi  sunt  graviora  ipsa  tyran- 
nide." — De  Regimine  Principum,  lib.  i.  c.  C.  "  Si  ad  jus  multi- 
tudinis alicujus  pertineat  sibi  providere  de  rege,  non  injuste  ab 
eadem  rex  institutus  potest  destrui,  vel  refrenari  ejus  potestas, 
si  potestate  regia  tyrannice  abutatur.  Kec  putanda  est  talis 
multitudo  infideliter  agere  tyrannum  destituens,  etiamsi  eidem 
in  perpetuosc  ante  subjeccrat,  quia  hoc  ipse  meruit  in  multitudinis 
regimine  se  non  fideliter  gerens,  ut  exigit  regis  officium,  quod  ei 
pactum  a  subditis  non  reservetur." — Ibid. 


I]       ROUSSEAU'S  THEORY  OF  MAN       11 

II.  That  civil  society  rests  upon  a  compact 
entered  into  by  these  sovereign  units. 

These  are  the  two  main  propositions  upon 
which  the  whole  Declaration  hangs.  Let  us  con- 
sider them  a  little,  and  see  what  they  amount  to. 
They  are,  of  course,  derived  from  the  doctrine  of 
Rousseau,  the  political  gospel  generally  received 
and  believed  throughout  France  in  1789.  And  it 
is  to  the  writings  of  that  speculator,  and  in  par- 
ticular to  his  Contrat  Social,  that  we  must  go  in 
order  to  ascertain  their  true  intent. 

Rousseau  starts,  then,  from  what  he  calls  "a 
state  of  Nature,''  and  a  hypothetical  man  in  such  a 
state  is  the  unit  of  his  theories  :  not  man  in  the 
concrete  as  he  existed  in  the  last  century,  or  as 
he  has  existed  in  any  known  period  of  the  annals 
of  our  race,  a  member  of  a  living  society  through 
which  he  is  bound  by  manifold  obligations,  weighted 
by  multiform  duties,  shaped  and  moulded  by 
longeval  history  and  immemorial  traditions  ;  but 
man  in  the  abstract,  belonging  to  no  age  and  to 
no  country  ;  unrelated,  and  swayed  only  by  pure 
reason  ;  lord  of  himself,  and  no  more  able  to 
alienate  this  sovereignty,  than  he  is  able  to  divest 
himself  of  his  own  nature.  Civil  society,  Rousseau 
insists,  is  purely  conventional,  the  result  of  a 
pact  between  these  sovereign  individuals,  whence 
results  in  the  pubhc  order  the  collective  sovereignt}^ 
of  all.  He  postulates,  as  a  primary  condition 
of  the  Social  Contract,  '' I'alienation  totale  de 
chaque  associe   avec  tons   ses   droits   a  toute   la 


12  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789  [ch. 

communaute."  ^  He  insists,  "  chaque  membre  de  la 
communaute  se  donne  a  elle  au  moment  qu'elle  se 
forme,  tel  qu'il  se  trouve  actuellement,  lui  et  toutes 
ses  forces,  dont  les  biens  qui'l  possede  font  partie."  ^ 
He  will  allow  no  limits  to  the  authority  of  this 
republic  of  equals.  He  ascribes  to  it  a  universal 
and  compulsory  power  to  order  and  dispose  of  each 
part  of  the  body  politic  in  the  manner  which  it 
judges  to  be  most  advantageous  to  all.  "  As 
Nature,"  he  writes,  "  gives  to  each  man  absolute 
authority  over  his  own  members,  so  the  social 
pact  gives  to  the  body  politic  an  absolute  authority 
over  all  its  members,  and  it  is  this  same  power 
which,  directed  by  the  general  will,  bears  the  name 
of  sovereignty."  ^  Hence  all  rights,  that  of  pro- 
perty among  them,  exist  only  by  the  sufferance  of 
the  community,  and  within  the  limits  prescribed 
by  it.  *'  The  right  that  the  individual  has  over 
his  own  possessions  [sur  son  propre  fonds) ,  is  sub- 
ordinate to  the  right  that  the  community  has  over 
all."  ^  And  this  collective  sovereignty,  like  the 
individual  sovereignty  of  which  it  is  the  outcome, 
is  inalienable.  In  practice  it  is  exercised  through 
certain  delegates,  to  whom  in  its  fulness  it  is  con- 
fided ;  and  these  delegates  are  chosen  by  all  the 
sovereign  units — that  is,  by  a  majority  of  them — 
and  are  alike  the  legislators  and  the  adminis- 
trators of  the  community,  for  sovereignty  is  in- 
divisible.    They    wield    all    the    powers    of    the 

^  Du  Contrat  Social,  lib.  i.  c.  6.  ^  md.,  c.  ix. 

'  Ibid.,  lib.  ii.  c.  4.  *  Ibid.,  lib.  i.  c.  9. 


I]       ROUSSEAU   AND  THE  JACOBINS     13 

sovereign  units  who,  in  obeying  a  government, 
thus  deriving  its  authority  from  themselves,  are, 
in  fact,  obeying  themselves.  Such  is  Jean  Jacque's 
receipt  for  making  the  constitution  and  redressing 
the  woes  of  humanity.  And  it  must  be  taken  in 
connection  with  what  Lord  Morley  of  Blackburn 
calls  "  the  great  central  moral  doctrine,"  held  by 
him,  as  by  the  Revolutionary  theorists  generally, 
"  that  human  nature  is  good,  and  that  the  evil 
of  the  world  is  the  fruit  of  bad  education  and  bad 
institutions."  ^  Enlighten  man  as  to  his  "  natural 
and  imprescriptible  rights,"  obscured  since  the 
da3/s  of  the  state  of  Nature,  restore  him  to  his  true 
position  of  liberty  and  equality  and  sovereignty, 
and  general  happiness  would  result.  The  whole 
French  Revolution  was  an  endeavour  to  apply 
this  theory  of  man  and  society,  to  work  the  world 
upon  it.  And  in  the  decomposing  political  soil 
into  which  it  was  cast,  the  new  doctrine  quickly 
developed.  The  truest  and  most  consistent 
disciples  of  Rousseau  were  the  Jacobins  ;  and  it 
was  the  emphatic  proclamation  of  the  sovereignty 
of  the  individual  in  the  Declaration  of  Rights  which 
so  endeared  that  document  to  them.  Marat  and 
Robespierre  regarded  it  as  the  only  good  thing 
achieved  by  the  Constituent  Assembly,  and  the 
Jacobin  orators  generally  harangued  in  the  same 
strain.  "  Le  peuple  connait  aujourd'hui  sa 
dignite,"  cried  Isnard.  "  II  sait  que  d'apres  la 
Constitution  la  devise  de  tout  Francais  doit  etre 

^  Morley 's  Diderot,  vol.  i.  p.  5. 


14  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789         [ch. 

celle-ci-vivre  libre,  I'egal  de  tout  et  membre  du 
souverain."  And  so  Chalier  :  "  Sachez  vous  que 
vous  etes  rois  et  plus  que  rois  ?  Ne  sentez-vous 
pas  la  souverainte  qui  circule  dans  vos  veines  ?  " 
Utterances  of  this  sort  were  the  commonplaces  of 
the  Jacobin  rhetoricians,  "  the  phrases  of  pedants," 
M.  Taine  judges,  "  delivered  with  the  violence  of 
energumens."  "  All  their  vocabulary,"  he  goes  on 
to  observe,  '*  consists  of  some  hundred  words,  all 
their  ideas  may  be  summed  up  in  one — that  of 
man  in  the  abstract  (I'homme-en-soi)  :  human 
units,  all  alike,  equal,  independent  and  contracting 
for  the  first  time — such  is  their  conception  of 
society." 

IV 

And  now  let  us  survey  a  little  more  closely 
these  great  principles  of  1789  regarding  man  and 
society/,  and  consider  upon  what  grounds  they 
rest.  Rousseau,  indeed,  and  his  Jacobin  disciples, 
regarded  them  as  axiomatic  and  self-evident,  and 
so  as  standing  in  no  need  of  proof.  And  it  must 
be  owned  that  they  were  received  in  this  un- 
questioning spirit  by  the  men  of  his  own  genera- 
tion, and  that  they  are  still  so  received  by  a  vast 
number  of  Frenchmen.  But  it  has  not  been  the 
habit  of  us  Englishmen  to  take  upon  trust  the 
doctrines  which  are  to  guide  us  in  the  grave  and 
important  concerns  of  life.  We  are  accustomed, 
as  Heine  noted,  to  test  them  by  facts.  Let  us 
apply  this  test  to  the  principles  of  1789. 


I]  SOVEREIGNTY  OF  THE  INDIVIDUAL  15 

And,  first,  of  the  cardinal  principle  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  individual.  Are  freedom, 
equality,  and  virtue  his  natural  heritage  ?  That 
there  is  a  sense  in  which  it  may,  with  perfect 
truth,  be  affirmed  that  men  are  born  free,  I  should 
be  the  last  to  deny.  But  it  is  a  sense  very  different 
from  that  in  which  the  proposition  is  found  in  the 
speculations  of  Rousseau,  and  in  the  Declaration 
of  the  Rights  of  the  Man  and  the  Citizen.  It  is  a 
familiar  position  in  the  writings  of  the  Fathers  and 
the  Schoolmen  of  Christianity  that  slavery  is  an 
unnatural  state.  "  Take  man  as  God  at  first 
created  him,''  says  St.  Augustine,  "  and  he  is 
slave  neither  to  man  nor  to  sin."  ^  And  again, 
*'  the  name  of  slave  had  not  its  origin  from 
Nature."  ^  In  this  sense,  the  proposition  that 
man  is  born  free,  is  perfectly  true  ;  in  this  sense, 
but  surely  in  no  other.  Stated  broadly,  as 
Rousseau  states  it  at  the  opening  of  the  Contrat 
Social—''  Man  is  born  free,  and  is  everywhere  in 
chains  " — it  is  opposed,  as  flatly  as  is  well  con- 
ceivable, to  the  most  obvious  facts  of  life.  Man 
is  born  in  a  state  of  more  entire  subjection  than 
any  other  animal.  And  by  the  necessity  of  the 
conditions  in  which  his  life  is  passed— I  speak  of 
man  as  he  everywhere  exists  in  civil  society  from 
its  most  complex  to  its  simplest  states — he  is 
throughout  his  life  subservient,  in  greater  or  less 
measure,  to  the  will  of  others,  from  the  tutors 
and  governors  who  sway  his  childhood  and  guide 

1  De  Civitette  Dei,  lib.  xix.  c.  15.  2  /^/^^ 


16  THE  PBINCIPLES  OF  1789         [cii. 

his  youth,  to  the  nurses  and  physicians  who  rule 
his  decrepitude,  and  preside  over  his  dissolution. 
I  need  not  enlarge  upon  so  familiar  a  topic.  It 
must  be  obvious  to  all  men  who  will  consider  the 
commonest  facts  of  life  that  man  is  not  born  free, 
and  does  not  continue  free. 

Not  less  manifestly  false  is  the  assertion  that 
men  are  born  and  continue  equal  in  rights.  That 
men  exist  in  a  quite  startling  inequality,  whether 
of  natural  or  adventitious  endowments,  is  one  of 
the  things  which  first  force  themselves  upon  the 
wondering  observation  of  a  child  ;  and,  certainly, 
as  we  go  on  in  life,  experience  does  but  deepen  our 
apprehension  of  that  inequality,  and  of  the  differ- 
ence in  rights  resulting  from  it,  as  necessary  con- 
stituents in  the  world's  order.  The  natural 
equality  of  man,  ranging  as  he  does  from  the 
Baris  of  tropical  Africa,  "  abject  animals,"  as  Sir 
Samuel  Baker  judges,  or  the  Eskimo,  described  by 
Sir  John  Ross  as  "  without  any  principle  or  rational 
emotion,"  to  the  saints  and  sages  who  are  the 
supreme  fruit  of  spiritual  and  moral  culture  ! 
But  we  need  not  travel  to  the  Tropics  or  the  Arctic 
regions  for  a  reductio  ad  ahsiirdum  of  this  thesis. 
A  glance  into  the  streets  is  sufficient  to  refute  it. 
No  doubt,  every  individual  unit  of  the  motley 
crowd,  as  it  passes  by,  has  some  rights.  But  who 
that  is  not  blinded  by  a  priori  theories  will  main- 
tain that  all  have  the  same  rights  ?  Are  the 
rights  of  the  father  the  same  as  those  of  the  son  ? 
Of  the  mill  owner  the  same  as  those  of  the  factory 


I]  EQUALITY  IN  RIGHTS  17 

hand  ?     To  look  into  the  streets  was  indeed  the 
last    thing    which    Rousseau    thought    of    doing. 
Occupied  with  the  abstractions  of  the  state  of 
nature,  he  turned  away  from  the  consideration  of 
humanity  in  the  concrete.     Still,  he  might  have 
learnt  from  the  lumbering  periods  of  his  master, 
Locke,  that  **  there  is  a  difference  in  degrees  in 
men's  understandings,  apprehensions  and  reason- 
ings, to  so  great  a  latitude,  that  one  may,  without 
doing  injury  to  mankind,  affirm  that  there  is  a 
greater  difference  between  some  men  and  others 
in  this  respect,  than  between  some  men  and  some 
beasts."  ^    And  does  the  difference  in  these  en- 
dowments produce  no  difference  in  rights  ?     His- 
tory, it  may  be  confidently  affirmed,  contains  no 
more  signal  example  of  human  credulity  than  that 
so  startling  a  paradox  as  this  of  man's  natural 
equality,  should  have  been  eagerly  received  by 
whole  nations  upon  the  ipse  dixit  of  a  crazy  senti- 
mentalist.    But,   indeed,   hardly  less  startling  is 
the  doctrine  of  the  unalloyed  goodness  of  human 
nature.     Not  a  shred  of  evidence  is  adducible  in 
support  of  it.     It  is  certainly  not  true  of  man  as 
we  find  him,  at  his  best,  in  any  period  of  the 
world's  history  of  which  we  have  knowledge,  and 
under  the  conditions  of  life  most  favourable  to 
the  culture  and  practice  of  virtue.     Facts,   un- 
fortunately,   are    against    the    optimist    view    of 
humanity,    and   not   only   external   but   internal 
facts.     The  assertion  that  *'  the  base  in  man  "  is 

^  Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding,  book  iv,  c.  20. 

C 


18  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789         [ch. 


"  the  fruit  of  bad  education,  and  of  bad  institu- 
tions "  is  a  perfectly  arbitrary  and  crude  hypo- 
thesis. There  is  an  overwhelming  mass  of  proof 
that  the  radix  mali  is  within.  External  influences 
may  develop  or  repress  it ;  but  it  is  always  there. 
As  a  fact,  men  are  no  more  born  good,  than  thev 
are  born  equal  and  free.  The  theory  of  their 
natural  sanctity  is  as  baseless  as  the  theory  of 
their  natural  sovereignty. 

So  much  as  to  the  great  principles  of  1789  re- 
garding the  individual.  Let  us  now  pass  to  the 
doctrine  of  the  Revolutionist  regarding  civil  society. 
Is  the  public  the  result  of  a  contract  between  a 
multitude  of  unrelated  units  ?  To  put  the  ques- 
tion is  to  answer  it.  There  is  no  instance  on 
record,  in  any  age,  or  in  any  country,  of  a  number 
of  men  saying  to  one  another,  "Go  to  ;  let  us 
enter  into  a  social  contract  and  found  a  state." 
Pacts  there  may  be  in  abundance  in  the  public 
order.  For  example,  as  I  have  observed,  the 
monarchies  of  medieval  Europe  usually  rested 
upon  pacts  ;  which,  indeed,  is  natural  enough, 
seeing  that  they  were,  for  the  most  part,  the  out- 
come of  the  elective  sovereignty  described  by 
Tacitus  as  prevailing  among  such  of  the  Teutonic 
tribes  as  had  kings.  But  of  civil  society  the  true 
account  is  "  nascitur,  non  fit."  It  is  not  a  cun- 
ningty  devised  machine,  but  an  organism,  not  the 
hasty  fabrication  of  crude  theorists,  but  the  slow 
growth  of  countless  centuries.  I  shall  have  to 
touch  upon  this  point  again.     Here,  it  is  enough 


I]  THE  SOCIAL  CONTRACT  19 

to  say  that  the  conception  of  Rousseau  and  of  the 
older  speculators  from  whom  he  so  largely  "  con- 
veyed "  as  to  the  contractual  nature  of  civil 
society,  is  historically  false.  It  is  only  in  a  very 
limited  and  restricted  sense  that  a  pact  can  pro- 
perly be  spoken  of  as  the  foundation  of  the  public 
order  ;  in  such  a  sense,  for  example,  as  that  in 
which  St.  Augustine  uses  the  word  when  he  speaks 
of  "  obedience  to  rulers  "  as  being  "  the  general 
pact  of  society."  ^  It  is  true  when  employed  thus, 
in  a  figure.  It  is  false  in  the  literal  sense  in  which 
it  was  used  by  Rousseau  and  the  Jacobins.  Wholly 
false,  as  involving  a  negation  of  the  great  truth 
that  civil  society  is  the  normal  state  -  of  men,  and 
not  the  result  of  convention. 


But  it  may  be  urged  that  the  principles  of 
1789,  though  false  in  fact,  are  serviceable  fictions  ; 
that  the  doctrine  of  individual  sovereignty,  if  not 
true,  may  be  accepted  as  a  convenient  starting 
point  in  the  science  of  politics  ;  that  men,  if  not 
in  strictness  free  and  equal  and  good,  may,  for 

^  "  Generale  quippe  pactum  est  societatis  humanse  obedire 
regibus  suis."  Confess,  lib.  iii.  c.  8.  I  do  not  know  whether 
Lord  Tennyson  had  this  passage  in  view  when  he  wrote  in  the 
Morte  d' Arthur — 

"  Seeing  obedience  is  the  bond  of  rule." 

-  Thus  Aristotle  calls  man  ^woi/  tvoXltlkuv,  a  phrase  not  easily 
translated  into  English  in  the  present  degradation  of  the  word 
"  politics." 


20  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789         [ch. 

practical  purposes,  be  so  accounted.  It  may  be 
well  to  consider  this  argument.  No  philosophical 
student  of  human  institutions  would  now  deny 
that,  in  a  certain  stage  of  legal  or  political  deve- 
lopment, fictions  are  useful,  nay,  as  it  would  seem, 
indispensable  expedients  for  the  progress  of  society. 
Are  the  fictions  known  as  "  the  principles  of 
1789  "  of  this  kind  ? 

To  answer  that  question,  let  us  consider  what 
the  progress  of  European  society  really  is.  It 
may  be  described  as  consisting  in  the  evolution 
of  the  individual.  Among  our  Aryan  ancestors, 
in  the  earliest  stages  known  to  us  of  their  social 
organization,  we  find  neither  personal  liberty,  nor 
its  most  characteristic  incident,  single  ownership. 
The  unit  of  the  public  order  is  not  the  individual, 
but  the  family,  whose  head  exercises  despotic 
power  over  its  members.  Not  several,  but  common 
possession,  is  the  form  in  which  property  is  held. 
For  long  ages  the  unemancipated  son  differed 
nothing  from  a  slave.  The  history  of  Western 
civilization,  whatever  else  it  may  be,  is  certainly 
the  history  of  the  growth  of  personal  liberty  and 
of  private  property.  And  the  two  things  are 
most  intimately  connected,  for  property  is  but 
liberty  realized.  This  has  been  admirably  stated 
by  a  distinguished  French  publicist,  with  whom 
it  is  always  a  pleasure  to  me  to  find  myself  in 
agreement.  **  Property,  if  you  go  back  to  its 
origin,"  writes  M.  Laboulaye,  "  is  nothing  else 
than  the  product  of  a  man's  activity,  a  creation 


I]    WHAT  FICTIONS  ARE  SERVICEABLE  21 

of  wealth  which  has  taken  nothing  from  any  one 
else,  and  which,  therefore,  owes  nothing  to  any 
one  else,  and  belongs  only  to  him  and  his  descen- 
dants, for  it  is  for  them  that  he  works/'  ^  And 
again  :  "  Liberty  and  property  are  like  the  tree 
and  the  fruit/'  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  certain 
that  the  two  things  rose  and  developed  together, 
under  the  fostering  protection  of  the  civil  order. 
It  has  been  profoundly  observed  by  Kant,  that 
**  in  society  man  becomes  more  a  man/'  Or,  as 
Spinoza  puts  it,  more  exactly  to  the  present  pur- 
pose, "  the  end  of  the  State  is  liberty,  that  man 
should  in  security  develop  soul  and  bod}/,  and 
make  free  use  of  his  reason/'  It  is  towards  the 
attainment  of  this  "  far  off  event  "  that  the  public 
order  has  moved  through  countless  ages.  And 
nothing  has  more  subserved  its  onward  march 
than  the  employment  of  fictions,  the  object  of 
which  is  that  existing  institutions  should  be  accom- 
modated to  fresh  exigencies  ;  that  the  new  should 
succeed  the  old  without  solution  of  continuity  ; 
that  *'  the  change  which  comes  "  should  "  be  free 
to  ingroove  itself  with  that  which  flies/'  To  Sir 
Henry  Maine  belongs  the  credit  of  having  been 
the  first  among  English  thinkers  to  bring  out 
clearly  this  great  truth.  And  he  has  expressed 
it  with  a  force  and  authority  peculiarly  his  own. 
"  It  is  not  difficult,"  he  writes,  *'  to  understand 
why  fictions  in  all  their  forms  are  particularl}/ 
congenial  to  the  infancy  of  Society.     They  satisfy 

^  Le  Parti  Liberal,  p.  33. 


22  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1780         [cii. 

the  desire  for  improvement,  which  is  not  quite 
wanting  :  at  the  same  time  they  do  not  offend  the 
superstitious  disrehsh  for  change  which  is  alwa37S 
present.  At  a  particular  stage  of  social  progress, 
they  are  invaluable  expedients  for  overcoming 
the  rigidity  of  the  law  ;  and  indeed,  without  one 
of  them,  the  Fiction  of  Adoption,  which  permits 
the  family  tie  to  be  artificially  created,  it  is  difficult 
to  understand  how  Societ}/  would  ever  have  escaped 
from  its  swaddling  clothes."  ^  Certainly  not  less 
valuable,  I  may  observe,  as  an  instrument  of 
progress  was  the  fictitious  triple  sale  resorted  to 
at  so  early  a  period  in  the  history  of  Rome  for 
getting  rid  of  the  patria  potestas  and  emancipating 
thefdius/amilias.  But  I  must  not  dwell  upon  this 
subject.  Enough  has  been  said  to  indicate  the 
true  goal  of  the  progressive  societies  of  the 
Western  world — the  evolution  of  the  individual 
— and  the  nature  and  importance  of  the  part 
played  in  the  process  by  fictions. 

But  the  fictions  embodied  in  the  teaching  of 
Rousseau,  and  in  the  principles  of  1789,  are  by  no 
means  of  this  kind.  They  are  not  "  assumptions 
which  conceal,  or  affect  to  conceal,  the  fact  that 
a  rule  of  law  has  undergone  alteration,  its  letter 
remaining  unchanged,  its  operation  being  modi- 
fied "  :  economical  expedients  whereby  the  innate 
conservatism  of  human  nature  is  conciliated  to- 
wards inevitable  innovations ;  wise  condescensions 
to    men's    feelings    and    prejudices    in    order    to 

*  Ancient  Law,  p.  26. 


I]  WHAT  FICTIONS  ARE  PERNICIOUS  23 

the  peaceful  reconciliation  of  permanence  with 
progression.  They  are  something  very  different 
from  this.  They  are  what  Le  Play  justly  called 
them,  "false  dogmas"  :  they  are  a  set  of  lies  pre- 
sented as  truths,  to  serve  as  the  basis  for  a  total 
reconstruction  of  the  public  order.  And  their 
practical  effect  is  not  to  carry  on  the  progress  of 
human  society,  but  to  throw  it  back  indefinitely  : 
not  to  develop  the  work  which  has  been  the  slow 
growth  of  so  many  centuries,  but  to  lay  the  axe 
to  the  root  of  it  :  not,  in  a  word,  to  promote  the 
evolution  of  individuality,  but  to  destroy  it.  This 
may  sound  a  hard  saying.  I  am  convinced  that 
it  is  a  true  one.     I  proceed  to  show  why. 

And,  first,  let  me  say,  roundly,  that  these 
principles  of  1789  are  fatal  to  liberty.  They  make 
the  individual  nominally  free  and  a  king,  it  is 
true.  They  mean,  in  fact,  the  unchecked  domina- 
tion of  the  State.  A  multitude  of  independent 
and  equal  units — equal  in  rights  and  equal  in 
political  power — obviously  is  not  a  nation.  It  is  a 
chaos  of  sovereign  individuals.  It  is  the  State 
which,  by  virtue  of  the  fictitious  social  contract, 
welds  them  into  a  community.  And  the  State 
invested  with  their  full  sovereignty,  becomes 
omnipotent.  This,  as  we  have  seen,  is  insisted 
upon  by  Rousseau,  who  no  sooner  salutes  the 
"  Man  and  the  Citizen"  as  king,  than  he  proceeds 
to  impose  upon  him  a  blind  abnegation  of  all  the 
powers  of  royalty,  and  replaces  individual  action 
by  the  action  of  the  State.     The  consolation  of 


24  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789         [ch. 

the  man  and  the  citizen  is  to  be  found  in  the 
reflection,  that  if  the  State  is  above  him — the 
State  and  its  functionaries,  for  of  course  the  State 
is  a  mere  abstraction — no  one  else  is  ;  and  that, 
by  virtue  of  his  nature,  he  is  a  member  of  the 
sovereign  despotic  authority  whose  sovereignty  is, 
in  effect,  his  sovereignty.  It  is  a  poor  consola- 
tion, even  on  paper.  It  is  poorer  still  in  practice. 
For,  in  practice,  this  doctrine  of  popular  sovereignty 
is  the  sovereignty  of  "  the  majority  told  by  the 
head,"  as  Burke  expresses  it — the  very  class  to 
which  ancient  and  medieval  democracy  denied  any 
political  power  whatever — whom  all  men  are 
required  to  believe  and  confess  to  be  their  perpetual, 
natural,  unceasing,  indefeasible  ruler.  But  this 
really  means  the  untempered  sway  of  the  delegates 
of  the  majority  ;  or,  to  get  a  step  farther,  of  the 
wire  pullers  who  are  not  usually  among  the 
"  choice  specimens  of  wisdom  and  virtue  "  that 
adorn  our  race.  Let  us  clear  our  minds  of  cant, 
for  to  do  so  is  the  beginning  of  political  wisdom,  and 
consider  the  sovereign  units  as  life  actually  pre- 
sents them  :  as  we  know  them  by  the  evidence  of 
our  senses.  The  world  is  not  peopled  by  the  wise 
and  virtuous  abstractions  of  Rousseau's  theories, 
but  by  beings  whose  inclinations  towards  good  arc, 
at  the  best,  but  weak  and  intermittent  :  whose 
passions  are  usually  strong,  and  who  are  prone  to 
gratify  them  at  the  expense  of  others  :  who  are, 
for  the  most  part,  feeble  in  reasoning  power,  even 
to  perceive  the  things  that  are  most  excellent. 


I]     THE  MEN  WHO  GET  THE  POWER    25 

feebler  still  in  will  to  follow  after  such  things  : 
**  bibulous  clay  "  too  often  :  good  judges,  possibly, 
of  the  coarser  kinds  of  alcoholic  stimulants,  but 
not  skilled  in  discerning  between  good  and  evil 
in  higher  matters,  to  which,  indeed,  the  "  one  or 
two  rules  that  in  most  cases  govern  all  their 
thoughts  "  (as  Locke  speaks)  do  not  extend.  I 
do  not  know  who  has  better  characterized  "  the 
masses,"  as  the  phrase  is,  than  George  Eliot,  in 
what,  perhaps,  of  all  the  works  given  to  the  world 
by  her  inimitable  pen,  is  the  richest  in  political 
wisdom  : — 

"  Take  us  working  men  of  all  sorts.  Suppose  out  of  every 
hundred  who  had  a  vote  there  were  thirty  who  had  some 
soberness,  some  sense  to  choose  with,  some  good  feeling  to 
make  them  wish  the  right  thing  for  all.  And  suppose  there 
were  seventy  out  of  the  hundred  who  were,  half  of  them,  not 
sober,  who  had  no  sense  to  choose  one  thing  in  politics  more 
than  another,  and  who  had  so  little  good  feeling  in  them  that 
they  wasted  on  their  own  drinking  the  money  that  should 
have  helped  to  clothe  their  wives  and  children  ;  and  another 
half  of  them  who,  if  they  didn't  drink,  were  too  ignorant,  or 
mean,  or  stupid,  to  see  any  good  for  themselves  better  than 
pocketing  a  five-shilling  piece  when  it  was  offered  them. 
Where  would  be  the  political  power  of  the  thirty  sober  men  ? 
The  power  would  lie  with  the  seventy  drunken  and  stupid 
votes  ;  and  I'll  tell  you  what  sort  of  men  would  get  the  power, 
what  sort  of  men  would  end  by  returning  whom  they  pleased 
to  Parliament.  They  would  be  men  who  would  undertake 
to  do  the  business  for  a  candidate,  and  return  him  ;  men  who 
have  no  real  opinions,  but  who  pilfer  the  words  of  every  opinion, 
and  turn  them  into  a  cant  which  will  serve  their  purpose  at 
the  moment ;  men  who  look  out  for  dirty  work  to  make  their 
fortunes  by,  because  dirty  work  wants  little  talent  and  no 


26  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789         [ch. 

conscience  ;  men  who  know  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  bribery, 
because  there  is  not  a  cranny  in  their  own  souls  where  a  bribe 
can't  enter.  Such  men  as  these  will  be  the  masters  wherever 
there's  a  majority  of  voters  who  care  more  for  money,  more 
for  drink,  more  for  some  mean  little  end  which  is  their  own 
and  nobody  else's  than  for  anything  that  has  been  called 
Right  in  the  world."  ^ 

No  one  possessing  any  actual  knowledge  of 
the  classes  which  form  the  great  majority  in  every 
country,  as  they  are,  and  as— human  nature  being 
what  it  is — they  will  probably  ever  be,  can  honestly 
say  that  the  picture  of  them  thus  drawn  by  Felix 
Holt  is  too  darkly  coloured.^  No  one  who  has 
attentively  considered  the  actual  working  of  uni- 
versal suffrage  in  the  world  can  fail  to  discern 
(however  loth  he  may  be  to  make  the  confession) 
that  the  description  of  **  the  sort  of  men  "  who 
"  get  the  power  "  by  means  of  it,  is  simply  true. 
It  was  long  ago  pointed  out  by  Aristotle  that  the 
tyrant,  whether  one  or  many  headed,  is  the  natural 
prey  of  his  parasites  :  "  demagogues  and  Court 
favourites  are  the  same  and  correspond."  And, 
he  further  observes,  "  the  ethos  of  monarchical 
despotism  and  of  mob  despotism  is  identical ; 
both  are  tyrannously  repressive  of  the  better 
sort."  ^  Moreover,  the  instrument  whereby  this 
tyranny  is  exercised  is  the  same  in  both  cases — a 

^  Felix  Holt,  the  Radical,  c.  xxx. 

2  Mill  goes  much  further.  "  Consider."  he  writes,  "  how  vast 
is  the  number  of  men  in  any  great  country  who  are  Httle  better 
than  brutes." — The  Subjection  of  Women,  p.  64.  Aristotle  said 
precisely  the  same  thing  two  thousand  years  ago. 

'  Pol.,  lib.  vi.  c.  4. 


I]  EQUALITY  AND  LIBERTY  27 

hierarchy  of  functionaries,  a  highly  centraHzed 
administration.  Absolute  equalit}^  is  impossible. 
The  voice  of  human  nature  spoke  by  the  mouth 
of  that  Irishman,  who,  in  answer  to  the  stump 
orator's  appeal,  "  Is  not  one  man  as  good  as 
another  ?  "  called  out,  "  Yes,  and  much  better, 
too/'  And,  when  all  other  superiorities  are 
wanting,  ofticial  superiority/  gives  rise  to  the  most 
odious  of  privileged  orders  ;  an  order  possessing 
all  the  vices  of  an  aristocracy,  and  none  of  its 
virtues.  Burke  remarks,  with  profound  wisdom, 
*'  The  deceitful  dreams  and  visions  of  equality  and 
the  rights  of  man  end  in  a  base  oligarchy  " — of  all 
oligarchies  most  fatal  to  liberty.  One  has  but  to 
look  at  France  for  an  example.  It  is  now  more 
than  a  century  since  the  principles  of  1789  were 
formulated  there.  But  in  no  country,  not  even 
in  Russia,  is  individual  freedom  less.  The  State 
is  as  ubiquitous  and  as  autocratic  as  under  the 
worst  of  Bourbon  or  Oriental  despots.  Nowhere 
is  its  hand  so  heavy  upon  the  subject  in  every 
department  of  human  life.  Nowhere  is  the  negation 
of  the  value  and  the  rights  of  personal  independence 
more  absolute,  more  complete,  and  more  effective. 
Rivarol  observes  that  his  countrymen  judged 
liberty  to  lie  in  restricting  the  liberties  of  others. 
And  Gambetta  is  reported  to  have  declared, 
upon  a  memorable  occasion,  that  it  is  "  one  of 
the  prerogatives  of  power."  The  declaration  is 
in  full  accord  with  the  constant  teaching  of  the 
Jacobin  publicists,  who  have  ever  maintained  that 


28  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789         [ch. 

the  will  of  the  majority  is  the  rule  of  right,  and  that 
dissent  from  it  is  a  crime  ;  and  have  branded  with 
the  name  of  "  Individualism  "  all  that  is  most 
precious  in  what  we  call  "  civil  and  religious 
Iibert3\"  Centralization,  the  fanaticism  of  uni- 
formity, the  worship  of  brute  force,  and  contempt 
of  all  that  Englishmen  understand  by  the  vener- 
able phrase,  "the  rights  of  the  subject" — in  a 
word,  the  effacement  of  the  individual — such  is 
the  natural,  the  inevitable  outcome  of  the  principles 
of  1789,  whether  in  the  stage  of  ochlocracy  or  in 
the  stage  of  Revolutionary  Caesarism,  which  is 
only  ochlocracy  crowned.  If  ever  there  was  a 
safe  truth,  it  is  this :  that  the  enforced  and  un- 
natural equality  of  Rousseau  and  his  disciples 
is  the  death  of  personal  liberty. 

But  this  is  not  all.  Something  still  remains 
to  be  said  about  the  working  of  this  fiction  of 
equality,  or  rather  equivalence,  which,  as  Heine's 
keen  eyes  discerned,  is  the  real  ruling  principle 
of  the  Revolution.  It  has  been  pointed  out  by 
the  great  master  of  the  political  wisdom  of  anti- 
quity, whose  doctrine,  based  as  it  is  upon  a  pro- 
found knowledge  of  human  nature,  is  "  not  of  an 
age,  but  for  all  time,"  that  those  w^ho  are  equal 
in  political  power  soon  come  to  think  that  they 
should  be  equal  in  everything  else.^  They  very 
soon  come  to  think  so.  And  the  inequality  most 
deeply  felt  is  that  of  property.  Of  what  avail 
to  tell  the  Man  and  the  Citizen  that  he  is  equal  in 

*  Pol.,  lib.  viii.  c.  i,  2. 


I]  EQUALITY  AND  PROPERTY  29 

rights  to  the  greatest  potentate  on  earth,  when  he 
is  sansculottic  and  empty  ?  Surely  the  Jacobins 
were  well  warranted  in  declaring  that  equality 
was  a  delusion  so  long  as  the  majority  of  French- 
men possessed  nothing.  **  Either  stifle  the  people, 
or  feed  them,"  urges  Marat  in  the  Ami  du  Peuple, 
pleading,  as  he  was  wont  to  do,  for  the  "  re-estab- 
lishment of  the  holy  law  of  Nature."  So  Chau- 
mette  :  "  We  have  destroyed  the  nobles  and  the 
Capets,  but  there  is  still  an  aristocracy  to  be  over- 
thrown, the  aristocracy  of  the  rich."  Tallien,  in 
like  manner,  proposed  that  the  owners  of  property 
should  be  "  sent  to  the  dungeons  as  public  thieves." 
While  Armand  (de  la  Meuse),  going  further,  de- 
manded mental  equality,  without  stating,  however 
(unless  my  memory  is  at  fault),  how  he  proposed 
to  enforce  it.  St.  Just  constantly  denounced 
opulence  as  a  crime.  Barrere  greatly  distinguished 
himself  by  invectives  against  *'  the  pretended  right 
of  private  property."  And  it  was  upon  the  motion 
of  Robespierre  that  the  four  famous  Resolutions 
affirming  the  necessity  of  limiting  by  law  the 
amount  of  individual  possessions,  were  passed  by 
the  Jacobin  Club.  "  La  propriete  est  le  vol  "  is 
the  necessary  corollary  of  the  proposition  that  men 
are  born  and  continue  equal  in  rights.  Babeuf 
and  Proudhon  are  the  legitimate  successors  and 
continuators  of.  Rousseau  and  his  disciples,  the 
legislators  of  1789.  As  we  have  seen,  it  is  laid 
down  in  the  Contrat  Social  that  every  one  entering 
into  the  fictitious  pact  which  is  postulated  as  the 


30  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789         [ch. 

basis  of  the  public  order  gives  himself  to  the  com- 
munity of  which  he  is  to  form  one,  wholly  ;  "  lui 
et  toutes  ses  forces  dont  les  biens  qu'il  possede  font 
partie  "  ;  the  effect  being  that  henceforth  his  title 
to  his  possessions  is  derived  from  the  State,  which 
legitimates  what  had  been  before  mere  usurpation.^ 
And  Rousseau  adds  that  '*  the  right  which  each 
individual  has  to  his  own  property  (sur  son  propre 
fonds)  is  subordinate  to  the  right  which  the  com- 
munity has  over  all  "  ;  and  that  "  the  social  state 
is  of  advantage  to  men  only  so  long  as  all  have  some- 
thing, and  no  one  too  much."  -  Babeuf  declares 
that  this  last  proposition  is  the  elixir  of  the  Contrat 
Social.  But  it  does  not  stand  alone.  It  may  be 
paralleled  from  other  writings  of  Rousseau  ;  from 
the  Discours  sur  I'Inegalite  for  example,  in  which 
the  famous  passage  occurs,  **  The  first  man  who, 
having  enclosed  a  piece  of  ground,  ventured  to 
say,  *  This  is  mine,'  and  found  people  simple 
enough  to  believe  him,  was  the  true  founder  of 
civil  society.  From  what  crimes,  what  wars,  what 
murders,  what  miseries,  what  horrors  would  not 
any  one  have  delivered  the  human  race,  who, 
snatching  away  the  stakes,  and  filling  up  the 
ditches,  had  cried  to  his  fellows,  '  Don't  listen  to 
that  impostor  ;  you  are  lost  if  you  forget  that  the 

^  "  La  communaute  ne  fait  que  Icur  en  assurer  la  legitime 
possession :  changer  I'usurpation  en  un  veritable  droit  et  la 
jouissance  en  propriete." — Du  Contrat  Social,  lib.  i.  c.  9. 

'^  "  L'6tat  social  n'est  avantageux  aux  hommcs  qu'aulant  qu'ils 
ont  tous  quclquc  chose,  et  qu'aucun  d'eux  n'a  ricn  de  trop." — 
Ibid. 


I]  EQUALITY  OF  FACT  31 

produce  of  the  soil  belongs  to  everybody,  and  the 
soil  to  nobody.' "  I  am  well  aware  that  saner 
views,  irreconcilable  with  these,  are  from  time  to 
time  expressed  by  Rousseau,  whose  speculations, 
indeed,  are  as  full  of  inconsistencies  and  contra- 
dictions as  the  ravings  of  a  lunatic.  But  my 
present  point  is  that  these  views  are  closely,  nay, 
necessarily,  linked  to  the  doctrine  of  equality. 
For  equality  of  rights  ought  to  result  in  equality 
of  fact.  Mere  equality  before  the  law  is  main- 
tained byBabeuf — and  with  reason,  if  the  principles 
of  1789  are  to  be  accepted — to  be  "  a  mere  con- 
ditional equality,  a  hypocritical  pretence,  a  sterile 
fiction/'  Thus  we  are  landed  in  Socialism,  Com- 
munism, Nihilism — systems  which,  under  the  pre- 
tence of  abolishing  "  the  slavery  of  labour,"  make 
all  men  slaves  alike.  The  individual  is  effaced. 
Art  and  science,  anathematized  by  Rousseau  as 
the  curses  of  mankind,  and  all  the  essential  con- 
stituents of  civilization,  disappear  together  with 
the  inequality  of  which  they  are  the  fruit.  And 
the  human  race  is  thrown  back  to  a  condition 
lower  than  that  in  which  we  find  it  at  the  dawn  of 
history.  It  is  the  triumph  of  Materialism  in  the 
public  order  :    "  chaos  come  again." 


VI 

So  much  may  suffice  regarding  the  principles 
which  are  of  the  essence  of  the  Declaration  of  the 
Rights  of  the  Man  and  the  Citizen,  as  distinguished 


32  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789         [ch. 

from  the  provisions,  salutary  or  questionable,  which 
may  be  regarded  as  the  accidents  of  that  docu- 
ment. The  liberty  which  they  bestow  upon  the 
world  is  a  hollow  pretence, 

"  the  name 
Of  Freedom  graven  on  a  heavier  chain." 

The  equality  is,  as  has  been  happily  said,  ime 
egalite  par  voie  d'ahaissemeitt,  absolutely  fatal  to 
human  progress.  But  there  is  another  great 
principle,  usually  ascribed  to  the  year  1789,  that 
has  been  added  to  Liberty  and  Equalit}^  to  make 
up  a  sort  of  sacramental  formula,  the  principle  of 
Fraternity,  concerning  which  I  ought  perhaps  to 
say  a  word.  In  strictness,  indeed,  this  shibboleth 
belongs  to  a  later  period.  It  was  not,  I  think, 
until  late  in  1791  that  it  became  current.  It 
appears  to  have  been  put  in  circulation  by  the 
Abbe  Fauchet,  the  orator  of  the  Cercle  Social,  a 
Club  of  Freemasons,  who  desired,  as  they  pro- 
fessed, to  promote  "  the  universal  federation  of 
the  human  race,''  and  who,  with  a  view  of  hastening 
that  consummation,  published  a  journal  called 
La  Bouche  de  Per.  For  some  two  years  the  Abbe 
discoursed  in  this  newspaper,  and  at  the  meetings 
of  the  Cercle,  "  upon  the  mysteries  of  Nature  and 
Divinity,"  especially  devoting  himself  to  the 
elucidation  of  Rousseau's  proposition,  that  "  all 
the  world  should  have  something,  and  nobody 
too  much."  He  was  guillotined  in  1793  and 
seems  to  have  considered  Catholicism  a  better 
religion  to  die  in  than  Freemasonry,  for  we  are 


ij  JACOBIN  FRATERNITY  33 

informed  that  "he  made  his  confession,  and  heard 
the  confession  of  Sillery,  Comte  de  Genhs,  who  was 
executed  at  the  same  time  with  him."  But  his 
catch-word,  as  we  all  know,  has  survived  him,  and 
at  the  present  day  does  duty  as  the  third  article 
of  the  Revolutionary  sj/mbol.  It  must  be  allowed 
to  be  a  sonorous  vocable,  which  surely — as  the 
world  goes— is  something  considerable.  The  old 
Marquis  de  Mirabeau  remarks,  in  his  character  of 
Friend  of  Man,  I  suppose,  "  Ce  sont  deux  animaux 
bien  betes,  que  Thomme  et  le  lapin,  une  fois  qu'ils 
sont  pris  par  les  oreilles."  The  Jacobins  have 
ever  understood  this  truth  ;  and  have,  from  the 
first,  been  great  proficients  in  the  art  of  leading 
men  by  the  ears.  And  the  French  people  have 
displayed  an  extreme  aptitude  for  being  so  led. 
Fraternity  has  served  admirably  to  round  off  the 
Revolutionary  form.ula.  But  I  do  not  remember 
ever  to  have  seen  a  clear  account  of  what  it  is  taken 
to  mean.  Looking  at  man  as  a  mere  sentient  animal 
apart  from  transcendental  considerations,  which, 
of  course,  is  the  Jacobin  point  of  view,  there  is 
exactly  the  same  ground  for  talking  of  human 
brotherhood  as  of  canine  or  equine.  Thus  re- 
garded, it  does  not  appear  to  be  of  much  moment, 
or  fitted  to  elicit  much  enthusiasm.  Nor,  if  we 
consider  it  as  practised  by  the  Jacobins,  is  it  a 
thing  to  win  or  to  exhilarate  us,  resembling  as  it 
does,  very  closely,  the  fraternity  of  Cain  and  Abel, 
according  to  the  testimony  of  Chamfort,  who 
tasted   of    it    in    its   first   fervour.     There   is   a 

D 


34  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789         [ch. 

somewhat  grotesque  passage  in  one  of  Taine's 
volumes  which  may  serve  to  show  how  it  was 
apprehended  by  the  masses.  At  Riberac,  we  read, 
the  village  tailor  acted  as  the  Director  of  the  mob 
who  were  engaged  in  sacking  the  neighbouring 
chateaux.  Drawing  from  his  pocket  The  Catechism 
of  the  Constitution,  he  proceeded  to  confute  there- 
with the  Procureur-Syndic,  and  to  prove  that  the 
marauders  were  only  exercising  the  rights  of  the 
Man  and  the  Citizen.  "  For,  in  the  first  place," 
he  argued,  "  it  is  said  in  the  book  that  the  French 
are  equal  and  brothers,  and  ought  to  help  one 
another.  Ergo,  the  masters  ought  to  share  with 
us,  especially  in  this  bad  year.  In  the  second 
place,  it  is  written  that  all  goods  belong  to  the 
nation,  which  was  the  very  ground  upon  which 
the  nation  appropriated  the  goods  of  the  Church. 
But  the  nation  is  composed  of  all  Frenchmen. 
Whence  the  conclusion  is  clear."  "  In  the  eyes 
of  the  tailor,"  as  Taine  observes,  "  since  the 
goods  of  individual  Frenchmen  belonged  to  all 
the  French,  he,  the  tailor,  had  a  right  to  his 
share."  ^  This  example  may  serve  sufficiently  to 
show  the  practical  working  of  the  doctrine  of 
Fraternity.  But  before  I  pass  on,  I  would  make 
another  remark  upon  it.  Its  originator,  the  Abbe 
Fauchet,  was  an  apostate  priest.  And,  no  doubt, 
we  have  it  in  an  echo  of  the  Catholic  doctrine 
which  he  had  taught  during  the  earlier  portion  of 
his  life,  and  to  which  he  turned  for  consolation 

*  Les  Origincs  de  la  France  Contcmporaine,  vol.  i.  p.  383. 


il  CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY  35 

in  the  face  of  death.     The  dogma  of  the  brother- 
hood of  Christians  is  at  the  very  foundation  of  the 
idea    of   the    Cathohc    Church.     Every    baptized 
person  is  held  to  be  gifted  with  a  divine  sonship, 
and  that  common  spiritual  generation  is  regarded 
as  the  bond  of  the  Christian  family,  and  supplies 
an  argument  whereon  the  duty  of  charity  to  our 
neighbour    is    especially    grounded.     Property    is 
conceived  of  in  Catholic  theology  as  being  rather 
a  trust  than  a  possession.     St.  Edmund  of  Canter- 
bury,  in   his   Mirror,   one   of   the   most   popular 
religious  works  in  medieval  England,  lays  it  down 
broadly  that  the  rich  can  be  saved  only  through 
the  poor.     And  the  well-known  saying  of  the  great 
Apostle  of  "  holy  poverty,"  St.  Francis  of  Assisi, 
when  bestowing  a  cloak  which  had  been  given  him 
upon  a  poor  man,  "  I  had  a  right  to  keep  it  only 
until  I  should  find  some  one  poorer  than  myself," 
expresses  forcibly  the  way  of  looking  at  worldly 
wealth  prevalent  in  the  Middle  Ages.     **  Humanum 
paucis  vivit  genus,"  is  the  stern  law  of  life,  as  it 
has  ever  been,  and  ever  must  be.     But  never  has 
its  sternness  been  so  tempered  as  by  the  Catholic 
doctrine    of    Fraternity.     So,    too,    Liberty    and 
Equality  are  strictly  Christian  ideas.     Men  who, 
in  fact,  are  not  free,  nor  equal  in  rights,  by  birth, 
are,  according  to  the  Catholic  conception,  invested 
with  the  tributes  of  freedom  and  equality  by  the 
faith  of  Christ.     **  Where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
is,   there  is  Liberty."  ^     "  There  is  neither  Jew 

^  Second  Epistle  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Corinthians,  c.  iii.  v.  17. 


36  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789         [ch. 

nor  Greek,  there  is  neither  bond  nor  free,  there 
is  neither  male  nor  female,  for  ye  are  all  one  in 
Christ."  "  Ye  are  all  the  children  of  God."  ^ 
Hence  results  a  theory  of  the  sovereignty  of  the 
individual  Christian,  and  something  more  indeed, 
for  sacredoHum  is  attributed  to  him  as  well  as 
imperium.  He  is  held  to  be  both  a  priest  and  a 
king.^  I  need  not  dwell  further  upon  this  matter. 
I  touch  upon  it  to  indicate  the  source  whence 
Rousseau  really  derived  the  notions  which  blend 
so  strangely  and  incongruously  with  the  naturalism, 
and,  if  I  may  so  speak,  sublimated  materialism, 
that  are  of  the  essence  of  his  speculations.  In  the 
gospel  according  to  Jean  Jacques,  Man  takes  the 
place  of  God,  for  I  suppose  no  human  being  ever 
believed  in  the  Eire  Supreme  therein  proclaimed  ; 
not  even  in  that  culminating  hour  of  the  new 
Deity's  career,  when  Robespierre,  after  causing  his 
existence  to  be  solemnly  decreed  by  the  National 
Convention,  pontificated  at  his  Fete,  "  in  sky- 
blue  coat,  made  for  the  occasion,  white  silk  waist- 
coat broidered  with  silver,  black  silk  breeches, 
white  stockings,  and  shoebuckles  of  gold."  It  is 
true  that  the  legislators  of  1789  made  a  sort  of 
bow  to  him  in  their  Declaration.  It  was  under 
his  "  auspices,"  whatever  that  may  mean,  that 
they  placed  the  rights  of  the  Man  and  the  Citizen. 
But  we  hear  little  more  about  him  from  that  time 
until  the  great  day  of  the  Robespierrean  function. 

*  Epistle  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Calaiians,  c.  iii.  v.  28,  29. 
'  Apocalypse,  c.  i.  v.  0. 


I]       THE  APOTHEOSIS  OF  THE  MOB     37 

The  Abbe  Fauchet  roundly  declared,  in  a  moment 
of  lyrical  enthusiasm, 

"  L'homme  est  Dieu  :  connais-toi !     Dieu,  c'est  la  verite." 

So  Anacharis  Clootz,  "  the  Orator  of  the  Human 
Race  "  :  *'  The  people  is  the  Sovereign  of  the 
world,  it  is  God."  Hence  it  is,  I  suppose,  that 
some  writers  have  reckoned  Atheism  among  the 
principles  of  1789.  I  shall  have  to  discuss  the 
attitude  of  the  Revolution  to  Christianity  in 
subsequent  Chapters.  Here  it  must  suffice  to  say 
that  the  Jacobin  doctrine  of  the  sovereignty  of 
the  people  unquestionably  leads  to  the  apotheosis 
of  the  mob,  and  to  the  application  to  it  of  the 
maxim  "  Vox  populi,  vox  Dei/' 


vn 

I  think,  then,  I  may  claim  to  have  shown  that 
the  fundamental  principles  of  1789  are  neither 
great  truths  nor  serviceable  fictions,  but  palpable 
lies  fraught  with  the  most  terrible  mischief ; 
neutralizing  what  there  is  of  good  in  the  famous 
Declaration  in  which  they  are  authoritatively 
embodied,  and  rendering  it  what  Burke  pro- 
nounced it  to  be,  "a  sort  of  institute  or  digest  of 
anarchy."  It  is  a  remark  of  Rousseau's — one  of 
the  luminous  observations  which  from  time  to 
time  relieve,  as  by  a  lightning  flash,  the  dreariness 
of  his  sophisms — "  H  the  legislature  establish  a 
principle  at  variance  with  that  which  results  from 


38  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF   1789      [ch.  i] 

the  nature  of  things,  the  State  will  never  cease 
to  be  agitated  until  that  principle  has  been  changed, 
and  invincible  Nature  has  resumed  her  empire/' 
These  are  the  words  of  truth  and  soberness.  And 
the  whole  history  of  France — and  of  the  countries 
of  Europe  most  largely  influenced  by  France—- 
from  the  day  they  were  written  until  now,  supplies 
a  singularly  emphatic  corroboration  of  them. 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Revolution  and  Religion 

I 

One  of  the  most  striking  facts  of  contemporary 
history  is  the  contest,  which  for  long  years  has 
been  carried  on  in  France,  between  the  pohticians 
dominating  that  country  and  CathoHcism,  which 
there  is  virtually  synonymous  with  Christianity. 
Exception  might,  indeed,  be  taken  to  the  word 
**  contest  "  on  the  ground  indicated  by  the  Latin 
poet :  "Si  rixa  est  ubi  tu  pulsas,  ego  vapulo 
tantum."  The  French  Church  has  been  obliged 
passively  to  endure  one  persecution  after  another. 
She  has  been  deprived  of  her  religious  communities, 
ousted  from  her  official  position,  shorn  of  the 
miserable  pittance  doled  out  to  her  in  lieu  of  her 
ancient  revenues,  despoiled  even  of  the  houses  of 
her  chief  pastors,  while  mere  attendance  at  her 
public  offices  is  recognized  as  a  sufficient  dis- 
qualification for  the  service  of  the  State.  To  which 
must  be  added  that  the  primary  education  of  the 
country  has  been  withdrawn  from  her  :  she  has 
been  bidden  to  stand  aside  and  look  helplessly 

39 


40   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

on  while  the  children  of  France  are  brought  up 
in  atheism,  even  the  very  name  of  God  being 
banished  from  their  school  books.  Probably  few 
English  readers  really  realize  these  facts.  The 
foreign  correspondents  of  our  principal  newspapers 
are,  for  the  most  part,  in  close  sympathy  with  the 
anti-Christian  movement  in  European  politics,  and 
do  their  best  to  serve  it  in  this  country  by  veiling 
from  British  eyes  its  true  character.  But  no  one 
who  has  lived  in  France,  or  who  has  associated 
much  with  French  people,  can  honestly  question 
the  correctness  of  the  statement  which  I  have  just 
made.  The  object  of  the  party,  or  rather  sect, 
now  in  power  there  is  to  decatholicise,  to  de- 
christianise,  that  country.  I  propose  in  this 
present  Chapter  to  explain  why  this  is  so. 


II 

It  has  been  tersely  and  truly  remarked  by 
Taine  :  "  L'ancien  regime  a  produit  la  Revolution 
et  la  Revolution  le  regime  nouveau."  For  the 
explanation  of  the  present  position  of  Church  and 
Statein  the  New  France,  we  must  go  back  for  more 
than  a  century  to  the  time  when  Catholicism  was 
confronted  with  the  great  Revolution  which,  in 
Alexis  dc  Tocqueville's  phrase,  has  engendered 
the  other  Revolutions.  Let  us  proceed  to  con- 
sider first,  what  the  Catholic  Church  in  France 
then  was,  and  next,   what  the  Revolution  was, 


II]  THE  PREREVOLUTIONARY  CHURCH  41 

and  how  the  conflict  arose  which  has  lasted  ever 
since — and  of  which  the  end  is  not  yet. 

Now,  as  a  mere  matter  of  history,  it  is  certain 
that  the  Cathohc  Church  in  France  was  anterior 
to  the  French  State.  The  Frankish  monarchy, 
with  all  its  appendant  institutions,  was  created  by 
the  ecclesiastical  hierarchy  of  the  fifth  and  sixth 
centuries.  This  was  one  of  the  achievements  by 
which  the  Church,  "  great  mother  of  majestic 
works,"  earned  her  prominent  place  in  the  social 
order.  It  was  her  task  to  train  the  nascent 
nationalities  of  Europe,  and  to  inform  them  with  a 
new  spirit.  To  quote  Taine's  words,  "  In  a  world 
founded  on  conquest,  hard  and  cold  as  a  machine 
of  brass,"  she  taught  the  higher  virtues  whereby 
man  erects  himself  above  himself :  patience, 
kindness,  humility,  self-sacrificing  charity.  She 
saved  what  could  be  saved  of  antique  civilization, 
and  she  transformed  it.  Of  course,  the  chief  agents 
in  this  beneficent  work  were  the  monks.  I  need 
not  dwell  upon  what  is  unfolded  at  length  in 
Montalembert's  brilliant  pages,  which  merely  invest 
hard  facts  with  poetic  glamour.  It  was  around 
the  monasteries  that  villages,  towns,  and  cities 
grew  up — new  centres  of  agriculture  and  industry 
and  population.  To  the  monks  we  owe  most  of 
the  institutions  whereby  we  now  live  as  civilized 
men.  That  is  the  debt  of  the  modern  world  to 
them.  The  debt  of  the  men  of  that  far-off  age 
was  greater  still.  In  a  time  when  brute  force 
prevailed,  it  was  their  office  and  ministry   "  to 


1 


42  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

furnish  man  with  inducements  to  hve,  or,  at  the 
very  least,  with  the  resignation  which  makes  Hfe 
endurable  "  \  to  point  to  an  existence  beyond  the 
present,  where  justice  should  be  rendered,  where 
justice  should  be  requited,  where  Lazarus,  after 
his  evil  things,  should  be  comforted,  and  Dives, 
after  his  good  things,  tormented.  This  was  the 
work  of  the  clergy  for  the  nascent  nationalities, 
and  Taine  well  observes,  "  of  the  greatness  of  the 
debt  of  gratitude  which  it  laid  upon  the  world, 
we  may  judge  from  the  greatness  of  the  reward 
which  the  world  bestowed."  Popes,  for  two 
hundred  j^ears,  were  the  supreme  judges,  we  might 
say  the  dictators,  of  Christendom.  Bishops  and 
abbots  became  sovereign  princes.  "  The  Church 
held  in  her  hands  a  third  of  the  land,  half  the 
revenue,  and  two-thirds  of  the  capital  of  Europe." 
b  speak  of  France  onty,  when  the  Revolution 
broke  out,  the  clergy  owned  a  fifth  of  the  soil 
of  the  country.  Their  possessions  were  estimated 
at  four  milliard  livres.^  Their  tithes  amounted 
to  about  an  eighteenth  of  the  produce  of  the  soil ; 
and  their  total  income  was  not  far  short  of  one- 
j  fourth  of  the  whole  revenue  of  the  nation. 

"  Do  not  suppose,"  Taine  justly  adds,  "  that  man  is  grateful 
for  notliing,  tliat  he  gives  without  adequate  motives  :  he  is 
too  egoist,  too  covetous  for  that.  Whatever  may  be  the 
establisliment,  ecclesiastical  or  secular,  whatever  may  be  the 


^  Of  course,  the  difference  between  the  value  of  money  then 
and  now  must  be  remembered.  We  must  multiply  by  two  at 
least ;   possibly  by  three. 


II]     THE  CHURCH  AND  FEUDALITY     43 

clergy,  Buddhist  or  Christian,  contemporaries  whose  observa- 
tion extends  over  forty  centuries  are  not  bad  judges.  They 
do  not  surrender  their  volitions  and  their  goods  except  for 
proportionate  services  :  and  the  excess  of  their  devotion  may 
serve  to  indicate  the  vastness  of  their  obligations."  ^ 

The  Church  is  in  the  world,  as  its  befriending, 
corrective  opposite.  But  the  world  is  in  the 
Church,  shaping,  in  many  respects,  its  action, 
whether  for  good  or  for  evil.  It  has  been  truly 
remarked  that  no  man  can  influence  his  age  who 
is  not  of  his  age.  The  dictum  holds  good  of 
institutions,  religious  as  well  as  secular.  The 
work  of  the  Church  in  moulding  the  civilization 
of  the  new  nationalities  was  done  in  an  epoch  of 
feudalism  :  and  in  doing  it  the  Church  necessarily 
used  the  feudal  system,  and  took  her  place  therein. 
It  was  the  dissolution  of  the  old  order,  when  the 
Roman  Empire  had  crumbled  away,  which  called 
that  system  into  existence.     Taine  puts  it  tersely^ 

"  In  this  age  of  permanent  war,  only  one  species  of  rule 
is  of  use,  that  of  a  military  company  confronting  the  enemy  ; 
and  such  is  the  feudal  system.  Judge,  then,  of  the  perils 
which  it  wards  off,  and  of  the  services  to  which  it  is  bound."  ^ 

The  feudal  aristocracy  earned  their  privileges  : 
they  were  the  champions  and  saviours  of  the 
social  order  ;  the  protectors  of  the  peasant  who, 
thanks  to  their  strong  arm,  could  till,  sow  and 
reap  in  safety.  "  On  vit  done,  ou  plutot  on  re- 
commence a  vivre,  sous  la  rude  main  gantee  de 

*  Les  Origines  de  la  France  Contemporaine,  vol.  i.  p.  8. 
2  Ihid.,  p.  lo. 


44   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

fer  qui  vous  rudoie,  mais  qui  vous  protege."  The 
feudal  dues  were  originally  a  recognition  of  that 
protection,  and  were  given  not  grudgingly  or  as 
of  necessity,  but  gladly — "  too  little  payment  for 
so  great  a  debt."  The  lordship,  county,  duchy, 
was  a  true  country,  and  the  Lord,  Count,  or  Duke 
and  his  vassals,  serfs,  burghers,  were  bound 
together  in  one  great  famity,  not  only  by  the  tie 
of  a  common  interest,  but  b}^  that  living  instinct 
of  loyalty,  which  to  men  of  these  days  seems 
fantastical  and  unreal.  And  from  these  small 
feudal  countries  arose  that  great  national  country 
— all  the  seigneurs  under  one  seigneur,  the  King, 
chief  of  his  nobles  ;  a  consolidating  process  which 
began  under  Hugh  Capet  and  went  on  for  eight 
hundred  years.  But  to  follow  its  career,  even  in 
the  most  shadow}^  outline,  would  take  me  too  far  ; 
nor,  indeed,  is  that  my  subject.  My  present  point 
is  that  the  Church  became,  of  necessity,  intimately 
associated  with,  nay,  we  may  say,  incorporated 
in,  the  feudal  organization.  Bishops,  abbots, 
canons,  possessed  fiefs  in  virtue  of  their  ecclesias- 
tical functions  :  it  was  the  only  way  in  which  a 
definite  and  congruous  place  in  the  social  system 
could  be  assigned  to  them.  The  convent  was 
invested  with  the  lordship  of  the  village  which 
had  grown  up  round  it,  and  exercised  all  the  pre- 
rogatives of  a  seigneur.  Like  him,  it  had  its 
judicial  functions,  its  rights  of  corvee,  of  tolls  on 
fairs  and  markets  ;  it  had  its  own  kiln,  its  mill, 
its  wine-press,  its  bull,  for  the  service  of  its  vassals. 


II]  THE  DECAY  OF  FEUDALISM        45 


III 

"  Our  little  systems  have  their  day."  Feu- 
dality served  its  hour  in  the  world's  history  and 
then  crumbled  away.  In  England  it  began  to 
disappear  in  the  seventeenth  century  and,  gradu- 
ally, a  transformation  of  its  institutions,  to  suit 
the  new  wants  of  a  new  time,  was  peacefully 
accomplished.  Not  so  in  France.  The  forms  of 
the  old  order  remained  after  its  spirit  had  vanished. 
During  the  Middle  Ages  liberty  largely  existed  in 
that  countr}^  not  indeed  in  abstract  propositions, 
but  in  actual  practice.  Gradually,  the  Sovereign 
dealt  it  a  fatal  blow  by  usurping  the  right  of 
taxation  which  had  belonged  originally  to  the  three 
estates.  The  old  maxim  was  **  N'imposte  qui  ne 
veut."  Originall}',  the  King  lived  on  the  revenue 
of  his  domains,  and  as  Forbonnais  remarks, 
**  Comme  les  besoins  extraordinaires  etaient 
pourvus  par  des  contributions  extraordinaires, 
elles  portaient  egalement  sur  le  clerge,  la  noblesse 
et  le  peuple."  -^  But  the  clergy  and  the  nobles 
acquiesced  in  the  taxation  of  the  tiers  etat  by  the 
King,  provided  they  themselves  escaped  it. 
Commines  sagaciously  observed  on  the  gravity  of 
this  royal  error  :  ''  Charles  VII.,  qui  gagna  ce 
point  d'imposer  la  taille  a  son  plaisir,  sans  le  con- 
sentement  des  etats,  chargea  fort  son  ame  et  celle 
de  ses  successeurs  et  fit  a  son  royaume  une  plaie 

1  Quoted  in  Alexis  de  Tocqueville's  L'Ancien  Regime  et  la 
Revolution,  p.  154. 


46  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

qui  long  temps  saignera."  ^  And  while  the  burden 
of  taxation  was  thus  thrown  upon  those  least 
capable  of  bearing  it,  the  antique  franchises,  the 
cherished  liberties  of  which  local  institutions  had 
been  the  fortresses,  were,  one  after  another, 
absorbed  by  the  royal  prerogative.  Louis  XL 
largely  restricted  municipal  immunities,  through 
fear  of  their  democratic  tendencies.  Louis  XIV. 
put  them  "  en  offices,"  as  the  phrase  was  :  that 
is  to  say,  he  trafficked  in  them.  He  would  con- 
fiscate them  by  an  arbitrary  act,  and  then  sell 
them  to  the  cities  and  towns  willing  to  buy  them 
back,  or  confer,  for  a  money  gratification,  upon  a 
certain  number  of  the  inhabitants,  the  right  in 
perpetuity  to  govern  the  rest.  The  provincial 
states  became  mere  shadows,  the  greater  portion 
of  their  prerogatives  being  transferred  to  the 
Parliaments,  an  association  of  the  judicial  with 
the  administrative  power  very  prejudicial  to 
public  affairs. 

In  feudal  times  the  nobles  were  charged  with 
the  chief  duties  of  provincial  administration. 
They  it  was  who  ministered  justice,  maintained 
order,  succoured  the  feeble,  directed  the  public 
business  of  their  neighbourhood.  The  policy  of 
the  French  monarchy  since  Louis  XL  withdrew 
from  them  these  functions,  and  set  up  a  vast 
system  of  bureaucracy.  The  royal  council  (concile 
du  roi)  directed  the  administration  of  the  country. 
The  management  of  interior  affairs,  public  works, 

*  VAncien  Regime  et  la  Revolution,  p.  154. 


n]  THE  ANCIEN  REGIME  47 

finance,  commerce,  was  entrusted  to  a  controller- 
general,  under  whom  there  was,  in  each  province, 
an  intendant.  There  were  thirty  of  these  function- 
aries, and,  as  Law  told  the  Marquis  d'Argenson, 
they  it  was  who  governed  France.  The  nobles, 
thus  shorn  of  their  administrative  functions,  re- 
tained their  privileges.  But  privileges  which  have 
no  longer  a  reason  for  existing  are  iniquities. 
Rights  divorced  from  duties  become  wrongs. 
Feudalism,  which  had  ceased  to  be  a  political 
institution,  cumbered  the  ground  as  a  civil  and 
social  institution.  To  which,  without  pausing  to 
speak  of  the  vast  personal  expenditure  of  the 
monarch,  it  must  be  added  that  the  huge  pos- 
sessions of  the  nobility  were  augmented  by  profuse 
pensions  and  scandalous  sinecures  granted,  appar- 
ently, on  the  principle  "  Whosoever  hath,  to  him 
shall  be  given.  "  Les  plus  opulents  tendent  la 
main  et  prennent,"  Taine  observes.  And  it  was 
really  from  the  underfed  and  overworked  poor 
that  the  money  for  this  profligate  expenditure 
was  wrung.  Such  was  the  decadent  and  decayed 
feudal  system  in  France  on  the  eve  of  the  Revo-  '  "j 
lution.  It  was,  not  unnaturally,  an  object  of 
intense  popular  hatred.  And  the  Church,  which 
was  intimately  associated  with  that  system — whose 
prelates,  indeed,  were  taken  with  hardly  an  ex- 
ception from  the  privileged  caste — was  involved 
in  this  hatred.  Even  the  cure,  almost  always  a 
man  of  the  people,  did  not  escape  it :  for  was  he 
not  closely  bound  to  the  noble  hierarchy  ? 


-v„ 


48   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION   [ch. 


IV 

We  may  say,  then,  that  the  Cathohc  Church 
in  France  presented  itself  to  "the  men  of  1789" 
as  a  portion  of  the  old  outworn  social  order,  an 
unfit  survival,  an  antiquated  fortress  of  irrational 
privilege.  And  if  we  go  on  to  look  at  it  in  itself, 
who  can  deny  that  as  an  institution  it  was  full  of 
flagrant  and  utterly  indefensible  abuses  ?  Its 
wealth,  we  have  seen  in  a  previous  page,  was 
enormous.  The  distribution  of  that  wealth  was 
scandalous.  The  emoluments  of  the  higher  clergy, 
the  eighteen  archbishops,  the  one  hundred  and 
seventeen  bishops,  the  grand  vicars,  the  canons, 
the  abbots,  and  the  rest,  were  vast.  The  forty 
thousand  parish  priests  were,  with  few  exceptions, 
in  abject  poverty.  Charles  IX.  had  fixed  their 
annual  stipend  at  120  livres  ;  ^  Louis  XIII.  in 
1634  raised  it  to  200  hvres  ;  Louis  XIV.  in  1686 
to  300  ;  and  Louis  XV.  in  1768  to  500  livres.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  Archbishopric  of  Alby  was 
worth  120,000  livres,  the  Archbishopric  of  Cambrai 
200,000  livres,  the  Archbishopirc  of  Narbonne 
160,000  livres,  the  Bishopric  of  Beauvais  96,000 
livres  ;  while  the  revenues  of  the  See  of  Strasbourg 
— the  richest  in  the  kingdom — amounted  to 
400,000  livres.-    But  even  such  great  prizes  were 

*  A  livre  was  almost  identical  in  value  with  a  franc. 

2  The  aggregate  of  the  episcopal  incomes  is  stated  at  56,000,000 
livres  ;  in  addition  to  which  the  Bishops  received  1,200,000  livres 
in  commendam. 


II]  ECCLESIASTICAL  ABUSES  49 

insufficient  to  satisfy  the  prelates  who  obtained 
them.  By  the  abominable  system  known  as 
"  commendam/'  the  revenues  of  religious  houses  ^ 
were  plundered  to  swell  their  coffers.  They  were 
nominated  by  the  King  to  the  headship  of  rich 
monastic  communities  which  they  never  even  so 
much  as  visited,  their  duties  being  discharged  by 
priors  claustral  whom  they  appointed.^  The  whole 
of  the  great  ecclesiastical  patronage  of  France  had 
been  vested  in  the  Sovereign  by  the  Concordat  of 
Bologna,  made  in  15 16  between  Leo  X.  and 
Francis  I.,  which  converted  the  Church  from  an 
independent  power,  bold,  should  occasion  arise,  to 
speak  of  the  divine  testimonies  before  kings,  into 
a  dependent  of  the  State  and  a  preserve  of  the 
nobility,^  from  the  protector  of  the  poor  into  the 
accomplice  of  the  rich.  But  this  is  not  the  whole 
of  the  indictment  against  the  higher  clergy.  As 
was  natural,  they  were  largely  imbued  with  a  tone 
of  thought  prevailing  in  the  class  from  which 
they  were  taken.      Taine  judges — and  gives  good 

^  It  is  true  that  many  of  them  were  almost  empty.  The 
religious  life  had  greatly  declined  in  France  during  the  eighteenth 
century. 

2  Thus,  to  give  only  two  examples,  Lomenie  de  Brienne,  who, 
as  Archbishop  of  Sens,  had  a  revenue  of  70,000  livres,  held  live 
great  abbeys  in  commendam.  His  ecclesiastical  income  amounted 
to  680,000  francs — ^^27,000.  Again,  Cardinal  Bernis,  Archbishop 
of  Alby,  a  preferment  worth  120,000  livres,  had  four  abbeys,  the 
richest  of  which,  Saint  Medard  de  Soissons,  gave  him  40,000 
livres. 

^  Noble  birth  was  regarded  as  an  indispensable  quahfication 
for  all  the  bishoprics  except  five,  which  were  known  as  evdches  de 
laquais. 

E 


50  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

reason  for  his  judgment — "  Never  has  there  been 
a  society  more  detached  from  Christianity  than 
that  class/'  '*  In  its  eyes  a  positive  rehgion  is 
nothing  else  but  a  popular  superstition,  good 
for  children  and  simpletons,  not  for  les  honnetes 
gens  " — I  must  keep  this  phrase  in  the  original 
French — "  and  great  personages.  If  a  religious 
procession  should  pass,  you  owe  it  the  tribute  of 
raising  your  hat  :  but  you  owe  it  nothing  more."^ 
And  this  laxity  of  thought  was  accompanied  by  a 
corresponding  laxity  of  life,  especially  as  regards 
the  relations  of  the  sexes  '-^ — all  of  which  was  done 
in  the  name  of  Reason,  or  in  the  name  of  Nature. 
The  great  Apostle  of  Reason  was  Voltaire,  who 
conceived  of  that  faculty  as  a  weapon  wherewith 
to  combat  superstition  :  and  who,  for  sixty  years, 
employed  his  incomparable  esprit  in  waging  an 
unceasing  war  of  flouts  and  gibes  against  the 
Catholic  religion,  from  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis 
to  the  last  Papal  Bull.  Then  came  Rousseau, 
the  Prophet  of  Nature,  whose  spurious  optimism 

^  Taine  continues  : — "  Sans  doute  presque  tons  et  toutes 
alliaient  h.  I'independance  des  idees  la  convenance  des  formes. 
Quand  unc  femme  de  chambre  annonce,  '  Madame  la  duchesse, 
le  bon  Dieu  est  la  ;  permettez-vous  qu'on  le  fasse  entrer  ?  II 
souhaiterait  d'avoir  Thonneur  de  vous  administrer,'  on  conserve 
les  apparences.  On  introduit  I'importun  :  on  est  poli  avec  lui. 
Si  on  I'esquive,  c'est  sous  un  pr6texte  decent,  mais  si  on  lui 
complait,  ce  n'est  pas  que  par  bienseance." — Les  Origines,  &c., 
vol.  i.  p.  381. 

^  Many  piquant  details  on  this  subject  are  given  by  Taine, 
and  more  in  the  MM.  Goncourt's  book.  La  Feyntne  au  dix-huitieme 
siecle. 


II]  THE  HIGHER   CLERGY  51 

was  even  more  unethical  than  Voltaire's  real 
cynicism  ;  and  as  the  eighteenth  century  drew 
towards  its  close,  the  upper  classes  of  the  French 
laity  were  deeply  infected  by  the  sophisms  and 
sentimentality  of  that  filthy  dreamer.^  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  among  the  higher  clergy 
there  were  some  whose  way  of  thinking  was  much 
the  same  as  that  of  the  upper  classes  of  the  laity, 
and  whose  way  of  living  was  as  corrupt.  It  is,  of 
course,  impossible  to  arrive  at  accurate  statistics 
in  such  a  matter  :  but  a  lurid  light  is  thrown  upon 
it  by  the  remark  attributed  to  Louis  XVI.,  when 
asked  to  confer  the  See  of  Paris  upon  Lomenie 
de  Brienne,  a  prelate  whose  life  and  conversation 
gave  much  scandal  :  ''  No,  no  ;  it  is  still  necessary 
that  an  Archbishop  of  Paris  should  believe  in  God." 
No  inconsiderable  number  of  the  bishops  resided 
little  in  their  cathedral  cities :  they  preferred 
spending  their  ample  revenues  at  Paris  or  at 
Versailles.  Taine's  account  of  the  higher  clergy 
generally — among  whom  must  be  reckoned  fifteen 
hundred  commendatory  abbots — on  the  eve  of 
the  Revolution  is  :  "  They  were  men  of  the  world, 
rich,  well  bred,  not  austere,  and  their  episcopal 
palaces  or  abbeys  were  country  houses  which 
they  restored  or  decorated  for  their  occasional 

1  I  borrow  the  phrase  from  the  somewhat  pungent  rendering 
of  St.  Jude's  IvvTTviatpfitvoi  in  the  authorized  version.  It  appears 
to  me  to  describe  Rousseau  most  accurately.  M.  Albert  Sorel 
speaks  truly  of  "  the  subtle  poison  of  sensuality  "  by  which  his 
writings  are  contaminated. — L'Europs  et  le  Revolution  Frangaise, 
vol.  i.  p.  237. 


52   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

residence  there,    with  the  company  whom   they 
invited/'  ^ 

It  must  not,  however,  be  forgotten  that  while 
too  many  rich  dignitaries  were  of  this  kind,  the 
inferior  clergy,  living  in  apostolic  poverty,  lived 
also  in  apostolic  purity  and  simplicity. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  Alexis  de  Tocqueville  writes,  "  whether, 
take  them  as  a  whole,  and  in  spite  of  the  conspicuous  vices 
of  some  of  its  members,  there  has  ever  been  in  the  world  a 
clergy  more  remarkable  than  the  Catholic  clergy  of  France, 
when  the  Revolution  took  it  by  surprise  :  more  enlightened, 
more  rational,  less  entrenched  in  merely  private  virtues, 
better  equipped  with  public  virtues,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
more  penetrated  by  religious  faith — as  the  persecution  which 
arose  sufficiently  proved.  I  began  the  study  of  that  ancient 
society  full  of  prejudice  against  them.  I  ended  it  full  of 
respect."  ^ 


1  L' Europe  et  le  Revolution  Fran^aise,  p.  154.  I  incline  to  think 
that  Taine  [Les  Origines,  Sec,  vol.  i.  p.  381)  generalizes  too  sweep- 
ingly  regarding  the  unbelief  of  the  higher  clergy.  "  Les  prelats  qui 
causent  et  sent  du  monde  ont  les  opinions  du  monde."  But  those 
"  opinions  "  were  doubtless,  in  many  instances,  very  loosely  held, 
and  very  indeliberately  uttered  ;  they  were  not  real  convictions. 
The  action  of  the  great  bulk  of  the  episcopate — of  all,  indeed,  but 
five — as  regards  the  Civil  Constitution  of  the  clergy  would  seem 
strong  evidence  that  this  was  so  ;  and  when  the  Archbishop  of 
Narbonne  attributed  that  action,  in  most  cases,  not  to  faith,  but 
to  a  feeling  of  honour,  his  claim  to  speak  on  behalf  of  the  episcopate 
generally  is  by  no  means  evident ;  he  seems  to  have  assigned  to 
them  the  motive  which  actuated  himself.  "  Concluons  des  moeurs 
aux  croyances,"  Taine  says.  But  that  is  by  no  means  a  safe  method 
of  ratiocination.  "  A  very  heathen  in  the  carnal  part,  but,  still, 
a  sad  good  Christian  at  her  heart,"  says  Pope  ;  and  the  case  is  not 
uncommon.  A  man  may  have  real  faith  and  not  show  it,  by  his 
works,  in  daily  life.  But  often  persecution  will  bring  it  out.  For 
many,  it  is  much  easier  to  die  for  a  religion  than  to  live  by  it. 

*  L'A'ticien  Rigime  et  la  Revolution,  p.  176. 


II]  CLERICAL  INTOLERANCE  53 

But,  unfortunately,  the  "  vices  eclatants  " — 
the  phrase  is  not  too  strong — of  one  cleric  occupying 
a  high  position,  do  more  to  influence  public  opinion 
than  the  humble  virtues  of  a  multitude  of  poor 
parish  priests.  Is  it  possible  to  over-estimate  the 
harm  wrought  to  the  reputation  of  the  spiritualty 
of  France  by  even  a  single  great  beneficiary  like 
Lomenie  de  Brienne  ?  Nor  must  it  be  forgotten 
that  prelates  such  as  he  were  foremost  in  urging 
the  religious  persecutions  which,  as  the  eighteenth 
century  drew  near  its  last  decade,  shocked  and 
outraged  the  humanitarian  sentiment  then  domi- 
nant. He,  indeed,  it  was  who  in  1775  admonished 
the  young  king  to  **  finish  the  work  which  Louis 
the  Great  had  taken  in  hand  ;  to  give  the  last 
blow  to  Calvinism  in  his  dominions."  And  among 
the  most  furious  foes  of  Jansenism  there  were 
ecclesiastical  dignitaries  of  whom  we  may  well 
doubt,  as  of  him,  whether  it  was  religious  zeal 
which  prompted  their  severities — Archbishop  de 
Tencin  may  serve  as  a  specimen  of  them.  Of 
course,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  these  severities 
were  congenial  to  the  clergy  generally,  few  of 
whom  disapproved  even  of  that  monstrous  iniquity, 
the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.^    Nor  is 

*  A  striking,  a  melancholy,  page  in  Taine  exhibits  how  one 
fresh  severity  after  another  was  obtained  by  the  Assembly  of  the 
Clergy  from  the  Crown  in  exchange  for  money  gratifications. 
"  Telle  loi  contre  les  protestants  en  echange  d'un  ou  deux  millions 
ajoutes  au  don  gratuit  ...  en  sorte  que  si  le  clerge  aide  I'Etat, 
c'est  a,  condition  que  I'Etat  se  fera  bourreau.  Pendant  tout  le 
dix-huiti^me  si^cle  I'eglise  veille  h  ce  que  I'op^ration  continue." 
Les  Origines,  &c., — vol.  i.  p.  80. 


54  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

that  to  be  wondered  at.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  in  France,  as  indeed  elsewhere  throughout 
Europe,  Church  and  State  were  co-extensive.  The 
laws  of  the  Church  were  laws  of  the  State.  The 
secular  arm  upheld  the  national  creed.  The  quite 
modern  principle  of  toleration  was  nowhere 
admitted.  Since  then  it  has  been  established, 
more  or  less  firmly — at  all  events  in  theory — in 
most  European  countries.  But  in  France  it  has 
never  obtained  a  real  hold.  Rousseau,  who,  we 
shall  see  presently,  supplied  the  inspiration  of  the 
Revolutionary  legislation,  expressly  rejects  it ;  and 
the  leaders  of  the  Revolution,  most  assuredly,  did 
not  practise  it.  Nor,  indeed,  do  their  successors. 
"  Liberty,"  the  late  M.  Gambetta  declared,  "  is 
one  of  the  prerogatives  of  power."  And  this  view 
is  not  confined  to  politicians  of  the  school  to  which 
Gambetta  belonged.  It  seems  to  be  common  to 
his  countrymen  generally.  I  was  reading  lately 
a  paper  of  M.  Faguet's,  in  which  he  observes  : 
"  A  Frenchman  will  always  prefer  to  renounce 
any  liberty  rather  than  see  his  antagonist  in 
possession  of  it."  He  adds,  ''  Republican  France 
ranks  foremost  among  those  countries  where 
liberty  and  liberalism  are  unknown." 

This  by  the  way.  My  present  point  is,  that 
while,  externally,  the  Catholic  Church  in  France 
presented  itself  to  the  eyes  of  men,  when  the 
Revolution  came,  as  a  feudal  institution,  inter- 
nally it  was  full  of  the  most  flagrant  abuses.  It 
had,   however,   yet   another   characteristic   which 


II]   THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  THE  CLERGY  55 

we  might,  at  first  sight,  suppose  should  have 
recommended  it  to  the  revolutionary  legislators, 
but  which,  as  will  be  explained  later  on,  only  served 
to  increase  their  animosity  against  it.  Alone  of 
the  three  estates  of  the  realm,  the  Church  had 
preserved  not  merely  the  forms  but  some  of  the 
substance  of  freedom.  The  clergy  were  a  corpo- 
rate body,  whose  representatives  met  in  General 
Assembly  every  five  years  to  treat  of  matters 
pertaining  to  religion,  and  specially  of  their  own 
rights  and  privileges — for  the  origin  of  which  the}^ 
went  back  to  the  Capitularies  of  Charlemagne — 
and  to  make  to  the  King  a  subsidy  which  was 
termed  a  free  gift,  don  gratuit.  This  Assembly 
consisted  of  sixty-eight  delegates,  four  from  each 
of  the  ecclesiastical  provinces  called  *'  French." 
Of  these  four,  two  belonged  to  the  first  order,  the 
episcopate  ;  two  to  the  second,  the  priesthood. 
During  the  intervals  of  their  sessions,  their  powers 
were  deputed  to  two  Agents-General,  who  were 
elected  every  five  years  by  each  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical provinces  in  succession.  These  Assemblies 
were  real  guarantees  of  a  certain  amount  of  liberty, 
externally,  that  is  to  say,  quoad  the  regal  authority. 
Nor  did  arbitrary  rule  prevail,  internally,  in  the 
pre-Revolutionary  French  Church.  Episcopal 
power  was  limited  and  defined,  and  had  to  be 
exercised  canonically.  The  inferior  clergy  were 
by  no  means  at  the  mercy  of  their  superiors.  They 
were  not  a  regiment  bound  to  march  at  the  com- 
mand   of   the   bishop.     The   priests    knew    their 


56   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

rights,  and  knew,  too,  how  to  maintain  them  against 
tyranny.  Nor  must  it  be  forgotten,  as  Alexis  de 
Tocqueville  points  out,  that  the  prelates,  belonging, 
as  they  did,  to  the  noble  caste,  brought  with  them 
into  the  Church  the  pride  (fierte)  and  indocility  of 
their  condition.  Their  feudal  rank  and  attributes, 
prejudicial  to  their  moral  influence,  gave  them, 
individually,  a  spirit  of  independence  in  relation 
to  the  civil  power.  We  must  not  judge  of  the 
French  clergy  of  the  eighteenth  century  by  their 
successors  of  the  nineteenth.  We  must  remember 
that  Napoleon  brought  the  spiritualty  of  France 
into  a  state  of  abject  submission  by  his  fraudu- 
lent Organic  Articles,  which  went  far  beyond  the 
so-called  "  Galilean  Liberties  "  as  an  instrument 
of  servitude  ;  and  that  it  was  the  settled  policy 
of  every  government  which  succeeded  his  to  main- 
tain them  in  their  abject  condition.  Alexis  de 
Tocqueville  puts  it  forcibly,  and  I  will  quote  his 
own  words  : 

"  Les  pretres  qu'on  a  vus  souvent  depuis  si  servilement 
soumis  dans  les  choses  civiles  au  souverain  tempore!,  quel 
qu'il  f ut,  et  ses  plus  audacieux  flatteurs,  pour  peu  qu'il  fit  mine 
de  favoriser  I'Eglise,  formaient  alors  I'un  des  corps  les  plus 
independants  de  la  nation,  et  le  seul  dont  on  etait  oblige  de 
respecter  les  liber tcs  particulicres."  ^ 

f.^  Such  was  the  Catholic  Church  in  France  when 
it  found  itself  confronted  with  the  Revolution  : 
an  institution  identified  in  the  public  mind  with 
the  outworn  feudal  system  on  which  it  had  been 

*  L'Ancien  Regime  el  la  Rivolution,  p.  171. 


II]  REBUILDING  57 

engrafted ;     enjoying   irrational   privileges ;     dis-    i 
figured  by  accumulated  abuses  and  abominable 
anomalies  ;  possessing  immense  wealth  distributed    | 
in  a  manner  shocking  to  common  sense  ;    tainted     * 
by  persecution,   sanguinary  in  the  case  of  Pro- 
testants, shabby  in  the  case  of  Jansenists ;   stained 
by   the   vices   of   many   of   its   prelates,    though 
adorned  by  the  virtues  of  the  inferior  clergy  ;   and 
alone  of  the  three  estates  of  the  realm  retaining  a 
corporate  character  and  a  measure  of  independence. 
Such  was  the  Church.     What  was  the  Revolution  ? 


V 

No  doubt,  as  Lord  Acton  has  indicated,^  the 
Revolution  was,  primarily,  a  revolt  against  privi- 
leges. They  all  went  in  a  mass,  so  to  speak,  on  that 
famous  night  of  August  4th,  when,  as  he  pithily 
puts  it,  "  the  France  of  history  vanished,  and  the 
France  of  the  new  Democracy  took  its  place."  - 
But  after  destro^dng,  the  members  of  the  National 
Assembly  had  to  rebuild.  It  would  perhaps  have 
been  impossible — it  certainly  would  have  been 
extremelv  difficult — to  find  a  corresponding 
number  of  men,  if  Europe  had  been  ransacked, 
less  competent  to  engage  on  such  a  task.  Un- 
questionably, some  of  them  were  possessed  of  great 
capacity — Mirabeau,  for  example,  and  Talleyrand 

^  In  his  Lectures  on  the  French  Revolution. 
*  Ibid.,  p.  100. 


J 


5S   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

— but  these  were  very  few,  and  their  influence 
depended  upon  their  adroitly  flattering  the  mass 
of  their  fellow  legislators,  of  whom  it  is  impossible 
to  exaggerate  the  incapacity.  The  great  majority 
of  the  members  of  the  National  Assembly,  ignorant 
of  the  actual  conduct  of  public  affairs,  unversed 
in  political  science,  unspeakably  disdainful  of 
history,  derived  their  conceptions  of  statecraft 
exclusively  from  the  sophisms  of  Rousseau  ; 
sophisms  which,  at  first  received  gladly  by  the 
upper  classes,  gradually — such  is  the  way  of 
movements  of  opinion — penetrated  the  bourgeoisie, 
and  then  sank  into  the  mind  of  the  populace. 
Taine  tells  us  of  a  traveller  who,  on  returning  to 
France  at  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI., 
after  an  absence  of  some  years,  was  asked  what 
change  he  had  remarked  in  the  nation,  and  replied, 
"  None,  except  that  what  used  to  be  said  in  the 
salons  is  now  repeated  in  the  streets."  ^  And 
**  what  was  repeated  in  the  streets,"  Taine  adds, 
**  was  the  teaching  of  Rousseau,  his  Discourse  on 
Inequality,  his  Social  Contract,  amplified,  vul- 
garised, and  reiterated."  It  was  an  agreeable 
teaching  for  the  masses,  who  had  hitherto  been 
nothing  in  the  State.  They  heard  gladly  the 
prophet  who  told  them  that  they  ought  to  be 
everything,  and  whose  sophisms,  very  easy  of 
apprehension,  seemed  to  them  capable  of  being 
converted  offhand  into  fact.  And  so  the  sages  of 
the  National  Assembly  proceeded  "  to  make  the 

*  Les  Origines,  &c.,  vol.  i.  p.  413. 


II]  A   GIGANTIC   TASK  59 

constitution."  It  was  in  vain  to  point  out  to 
them  that  France  had  already  institutions  merel}^ 
requiring  reforms  and  additions  to  adapt  them  to 
the  country's  needs — or,  as  Burke  puts  it  in  his 
Reflections,  *'  the  elements  of  a  constitution  very 
nearly  as  good  as  could  be  wished."  No  ;  as  he 
went  on  to  complain,  they  chose  **  to  act  as  if  they 
had  never  been  moulded  into  civil  society,  and  had 
everj/thing  to  begin  anew."  They  believed  what 
Barrere  told  them  :  "  Vous  etes  appeles  a  recom- 
mencer  I'histoire  "  :  and  thev  addressed  them- 
selves  to  that  gigantic  task  with  no  kind  of  mis- 
giving. 

Their  method,  as  I  observed  in  the  last  Chapter, 
was  to  translate  into  institutions  the  doctrines 
of  Rousseau,  who  may  be  regarded  as  the  revo- 
lutionary L3^curgus.^  Rousseau,  altogether  put 
aside  facts.  He  took  "  the  high  priori  road,"  -  the 
unit  of  his  speculations  being  not  man  as  moulded 
by  history  and  presented  by  life,  but  an  abstract 
man  who  never  has  existed  and  never  will  exist. 
His  system  has  been  aptly  described  as  a  sort  of 
political  geometry.  As  we  saw,  it  starts  with 
four  postulates  which  he  presents  as  axioms,  and 

*  M.  de  Pressense  well  remarks  : — "  Rousseau  eut  le  funeste 
honneur  de  faire  a  son  image  la  revolution  fran^aise.  II  regne 
sans  contestation  sur  sa  periode  la  plus  puissante  et  la  plus 
devastatrice.  .  .  .  C'est  a  son  Contrat  Social  qu'il  faut  demande'-" 
la  formule  la  plus  precise." — L'Eglise  Catholique  et  la  Revoluiio}7, 
p.  i8. 

2  I  am  far  from  denying  that  a  priori  conceptions  have  their 
use  in  politics :  I  am  speaking  of  their  abuse. 


60   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

upon  which  he  rears  his  wordy  edifice  ;  that  man 
is  naturally  good  ;  that  man  is  essentially  rational ; 
that  freedom  and  sovereignty  are  his  birthright  ; 
that  civil  society  rests  upon  a  contract  between 
these  free  and  equal  sovereign  units,  in  virtue  of 
which  each,  while  surrendering  his  individual 
sovereignty,  obtains  an  equal  share  in  the  collective 
sovereignty  and  so,  in  obeying  it,  as  exercised  by 
the  majority  of  the  units,  obeys  only  himself.  And 
to  this  collective  sovereignty  he  allows  no  limits. 
He  adopts  the  theory  of  the  State  which  Louis  XIV. 
formulated,  and  which,  indeed,  the  French  mind 
would  seem  to  regard  as  something  Hke  self- 
evident.     Taine  pithily  observes  : 

"For  the  sovereignty  of  the  King,  the  Social  Contract 
substituted  the  sovereignty  of  the  people.  But  the  new 
sovereign  is  still  more  absolute  than  the  old.  In  the  demo- 
cratic convent  which  Rousseau  constructed,  the  individual  is 
nothing,  the  State  is  everything."  * 

Yes,  everything;  it  claims  to  dominate  even 
that  interior  monitor  whose  judgments  of  right 
and   wrong  Christianity  -  regards  as  of    supreme 

1  Les  Origines,  &c.,  vol.  i.  p.  321. 

2  Christianity  is,  unfortunately,  a  vague  term,  but  there  can 
be  no  question  that  this  is  the  doctrine  of  the  CathoHc  Church. 
It  has  been  forcibly  stated  by  Cardinal  Newman,  in  a  well-known 
passage  of  his  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  from  which  I  will 
borrow  a  few  sentences  : — "  I  have  already  quoted  the  words 
which  Cardinal  Gousset  has  adduced  from  the  Fourth  Lateran 
Council,  that  '  He  who  acts  against  conscience  loses  his  soul.' 
This  dictum  is  brought  out  with  singular  fulness  and  force  in  the 
moral  treatises  of  theologians.  The  celebrated  school  known  as 
the  Salmanticenses,  or  Carmelites  of  Salamanca,  lays  down  the 
broad  proposition  that  conscience  is  ever  to  be  obeyed,  whether  it 


II]      OMNIPOTENCE  OF  THE  STATE      61 

authority — "Quidquid  fit  contra  conscientiam  aidi- 
ficat  ad  Gehennam."  Mayor  Bailly  expressed 
this  claim  forcibly,  but  quite  accurately,  upon  a 
memorable  occasion  :  "  When  the  law  speaks, 
conscience  should  be  silent."  "  L'etat  fait  des 
hommes  ce  qu'il  veut,"  was  the  credo  of  those  first 
Revolutionists,  as  it  is  the  credo  of  their  twentieth- 
century  successors  :  and  it  is  notable  that  this 
doctrine  of  Rousseau  was  asserted  nakedly  by 
some  of  them  who  would  not  have  owned  them- 
selves his  disciples.  Thus  Camus,  the  zealous 
Jansenist :  "  We  have  assuredly  the  powder  to 
change  religion "  ;  and  so  Gregoire,  an  ultra 
Galilean  :  "  We  could  change  the  religion  of  the 
State  if  we  wished,  but  we  do  not  wish."  Men 
breathe  the  intellectual  atmosphere  of  their  time  : 
and  the  influence  of  Rousseau  was  then  all-per- 
vading. 

Animated  by  these  sentiments,  the  National 
Assembly  turned  their  attention  to  the  Cathohc 
Church  in  France.  The  cures,  who  were  among 
the  representatives,  had  displayed  unbounded 
sympathy  with  the  popular  cause,  and  awaited 

tells  truly  or  erroneously,  and  that  whether  the  error  is  the  fault 
of  the  person  erring  or  not.  They  say  that  this  opinion  is  certain, 
and  refer  as  agreeing  with  them  to  St.  Thomas,  St.  Bonaventure, 
Caietan,  Vasquez,  Durandus,  Navarre,  Cordoba,  Layman,  Esobar, 
and  fourteen  others.  Two  of  them  even  say  this  opinion  is 
de  fide.  Of  course,  if  he  is  culpable  in  being  in  error,  which  he 
could  have  escaped  had  he  been  more  in  earnest,  for  that  error 
he  is  answerable  to  God  ;  but  still  he  must  act  according  to  that 
error  while  he  is  in  it,  because  he,  in  full  sincerity,  thinks  the  error 
to  be  truth." 


62  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

eagerly  ecclesiastical  reforms.  It  appears  clearly 
from  the  Cahiers  of  1789,  that  there  was  a  general 
demand  among  the  clergy  throughout  the  country 
for  a  thorough  correction  of  abuses :  for  the 
abolition  of  pluralities  and  of  the  system  of  com- 
mendam,  for  the  suppression  of  the  degenerate 
mendicant  orders,  largely  composed  of  able-bodied 
vagabonds  who  could  dig,  and  were  not  ashamed 
to  beg ;  for  the  recision  of  the  Concordat  of 
Bologna  ;  for  the  introduction,  in  some  measure, 
of  the  ancient  suffragium  de  persona  in  the  appoint- 
ment of  cures,  and  even  of  bishops  ;  for  the  re- 
duction and  redistribution  of  episcopal  incomes  ; 
for  the  augmentation  of  the  stipends  of  the  inferior 
clergy  ;  for  the  commutation  or  redemption  of 
tithes  ;  for  the  enforcement  of  residence  by  all 
spiritual  persons  among  their  flocks.  But  these 
demands,  far-reaching  as  they  were,  by  no  means 
represented  the  views  of  the  majority  in  the 
National  Assembly.  Not  reformation  but  trans- 
formation was  their  object.  They  had  before  their 
eyes  the  teaching  of  Rousseau,  who  desired  for 
his  Utopia  a  religion  which  should  be  part  of  the 
machinery  of  the  omnipotent  State  and,  in  all 
respects,  subject  to  its  control.  No  Church  at  all 
seemed  to  him  preferable  to  a  Church  which  should 
break  what  he  calls  *'  the  social  unity."  The 
time-honoured  phrase,  **  Respublica  Christiana," 
disgusted  him.  "  Republique  Chretienne  \"  he 
writes  ;  "  chacun  de  ces  deux  mots  exclut  I'autre." 
It  is  significant  that  Robespierre  forcibly  expounded 


II]         THE   CONSTITUTION  CIVILE         63 

that  view  in  a  famous  speech  on  the  Civil  Con- 
stitution dehvered  on  the  29th   of    May,   1790/ 
and  unquestionably  it  guided  the  great  majority 
of   the   National   Assembly   in   dealing   with   the 
Catholic    Church    in    France.      They    began    b}^ 
stripping  it  bare  of  its  revenues  ;    and  in  this  act 
of  spoliation  who  can  fail  to  see  the  Nemesis  justly 
attending  upon  the  horrible  misuse  of  its  posses- 
sions ?     So  did  they  destroy  its  corporate  character 
and  the  measure  of  independence  which  it  had 
possessed  under  the  ancien  regime.     Having  thus 
rendered  it  defenceless,  they  proceeded  to  regulate 
its  constitution.     That  task  they  astutely  entrusted 
chiefly   to   the   Jansenists   among   them,    few   in 
number,  but  strong  in  learning  and  in  character, 
and  burning  to  avenge  the  ignominies  of  seventy 
years.     Sir    James     Mackintosh    remarks,  in    his 
VindicicB  GalliccB,  that  "  the  spirit  of  a  dormant 
sect,  thus  revived  at  so  critical  a  period — the  un- 
intelhgible  subtleties  of  the  Bishop  of  Ypres,  thus 
influencing  the  institutions  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury— might  present  an  ample  field  of  reflection 
to  the  intelligent  observer  of  human  affairs."     An 
ample  field,   no   doubt.     Here  it  may  suffice  to 
remark  that  while  the  philosopher  had  no  more 
sympathy  with  the  "  Jansenist  rabble  "  than  with 
the  *'  Jesuit  rabble,"  as  d'Alembert  expressed  it, 
they  sagaciously  discerned  that  Jansenists  would 

J-  An  account  of  it  is  given  by  M.  de  Pressense  (p.  117).  He 
well  observes  : — "  On  n'a  pas  assez  remarqu6  I'intervention  de 
Robespierre  des  I'ouverture  de  cet  important  debat.  II  y  apporta 
la  pensee  de  Rousseau  dans  toute  son  intolerance." 


64  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

effectively  shape  a  law  destructive  of  the  Catho- 
licity of  the  Church  in  cutting  it  off  from  the  Holy 
See.  That  was  essential  to  the  conversion  of  the 
clergy  into  a  department  of  the  State.  The  real 
object  of  the  Constitution  Civile,  Mirabeau  dis- 
cerned, was  "  to  decatholicise  France."  The  name 
**  Civil  Constitution  "  is,  indeed,  fallacious.  That 
disastrous  measure  affected  other  and  far  more 
important  interests  than  those  of  a  merely  civil 
nature.  It  suppressed  fifty  bishoprics.  It  changed 
the  boundaries  of  dioceses  and  parishes.  It 
abolished  cathedral  and  collegiate  chapters.  It 
severed  the  clergy  from  the  Holy  See,  thereby 
destroying  the  essential  principle  of  Catholic 
unity. ^    A  Protestant  historian  writes  : 

"  In  vain  do  the  fervent  apologists  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion contend  that  the  Civil  Constitution  respected  the  dignity 
and  independence  of  the  religious  Society  by  contenting  itself 
merely  with  external  reforms  which  did  not  touch  dogma. 
To  unsettle,  to  this  degree,  the  organization  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  to  decide  the  very  delicate  question  of  its  relations 
with  the  Papacy,  entirely  to  transform  the  episcopate  by 
making  of  it  a  kind  of  constitutional  sovereignty,  with 
responsible  ministers,  to  base  the  whole  ecclesiastical  edifice 
on  popular  election,  was  evidently  to  do  a  work  which,  coming 
from  a  political  Assembly,  was  an  inexcusable  abuse  of  power. 
It  matters  little  that  this  or  that  reform  was  good  in  itself, 
and  sanctioned  by  the  most  ancient  traditions  of  Christianity. 


^  Lord  Acton  describes  "  the  Papacy,  that  unique  institution, 
the  crown  of  the  CathoUc  system,"  as  "  the  bulwark,  or  rather 
corner-stone,  of  Catholicism — the  most  radical  and  conspicuous 
distinction  between  the  Cathohc  Church  and  the  sects." — Essays 
on  Liberty,  pp.  320-321. 


11]  LOUIS  XIV:S  INFAMOUS  PRECEDENT  65 

Nothing  could  redress  the  vice  of  its  origin.  The  Church  was, 
in  the  event,  placed  in  absolute  dependence  on  the  Civil  power. 
Her  representatives  were  right  in  protesting  against  such  a 
measure."  ^ 

As  we  know,  they  protested  in  vain.  The  only 
effect  of  their  protest  was  to  enrage  the  Jansenists 
and  the  Rousseauan  sectaries  in  the  National 
Assembly,  and  to  let  loose  the  fool  fury  and 
sanguinary  savagery  of  the  populace  outside. 
Cazales  warned  his  fellow  legislators  that  "  the 
effect  of  the  Civil  Constitution  of  the  clergy  would 
be  like  that  of  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes 
— a  crime  by  which  justice  was  outraged  and  over 
which  humanity  still  groans."  The  warning  was 
unheeded,  and  Louis  XIV. 's  infamous  precedent 
was  unhesitatingly  followed.^  Surely  there  must 
have  been  some  among  the  clergy  who,  when  they 
remembered  how  the  Church  had  welcomed  that 
atrocious  measure,  made  the  reflection,  ''  Ouam 
temere  in  nosmet  legem  sancimus  iniquam."  The 
fact,  however,  remains  that  the  spiritualty,  con- 
fronted with  the  Civil  Constitution,  rose  to  the 
height  of  the  situation.  M.  de  Pressense — to 
quote  him  once  more — seems  to  me  well  warranted 
when  he  writes  :  ''  Nothing  but  the  most  sectarian 
prejudice  can  deny  the  grandeur  of  that  scene  of 

^  L'Eglise  CathoUque  ct  la  Revolution  frmi^aise,  par  E.  de 
Pressense,  p.  114. 

2  M.  Albert  Sorel  points  out : — "  On  trouve  dans  les  edits  de 
Louis  XIV.  centre  les  protestants,  tous  les  precedents  des  lois 
r^volutionnaires  centre  les  pretres." — L'Europe  et  la  Revolution 
frangaise,  vol.  i.  p.  231. 

F 


66  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

the  refusal  of  the  oath  at  the  morning  sitting  on 
the  4th  of  January.  .  .  .  Rehgion  defended  its 
rights  and  preserved  them  by  great  sacrifices, 
offered  in  the  midst  of  the  gravest  perils/'  Of  the 
two  hundred  and  forty-six  of  the  inferior  clergy 
who  were  members  of  the  National  Assembly, 
sixty  took  the  oath.  Of  the  forty-two  bishops, 
two  took  it,  Talleyrand  and  Gobel.^  The  rest  of 
the  episcopate  refused  it.  They  recognized — how 
could  they  fail  to  recognize? — that,  as  Pius  VI. 
declared  in  his  Brief  Quod  Aliquantulum,^  the  object 
of  the  Civil  Constitution  was  the  destruction  of 
the  Catholic  religion  in  France  ;  and  in  an  ex- 
tremely beautiful  and  touching  letter  they  assured 
the  Pontiff,  *'  We  shall  submit  to  our  fate,  what- 
ever it  may  be,  with  the  courage  which  religion 
inspires."  Rousseau,  in  the  Contrat  Social,  ex- 
pressly claims  for  the  people  the  right  of  imposing, 
under  the  penalty  of  death,  the  cult  which  seems 
to  be  most  useful  for  the  public  weal.  This 
doctrine  was  acted  upon  by  the  National  Assembly. 
In  the  next  Chapter  I  shall  have  to  give  some 
details  of  the  persecution  which  fell  upon  the  non- 
juring    clergy  ;     the    horrible    massacres  ;  ^    the 

^  Subsequently  three  other  prelates,  of  much  the  same  type 
as  these  two,  took  it :  Lomenie  de  Brienne,  Archbishop  of  Sens  ; 
Jarente,  Bishop  of  Orleans  ;   and  de  Sarrines,  Bishop  of  Verviers; 

-  It  is  dated  the  loth  of  March,  1791. 

•■'  It  is  worth  noting  that  to  the  priests  slaughtered  in  the 
massacres  of  September,  life  was  offered  upon  condition  of  taking 
the  oath  to  the  civil  constitution  ;  and  that  the  offer  was,  in 
every  case,  rejected.  M.  de  Pressense  well  remarks  : — "  There 
is  nothing  finer  in  the  history  of  martjTdom  than  the  scenes  of 


II]    THE  EXPULSION  OF  THE  CLERGY    67 

physical  tortures,  just  short  of  death  ;  the  mental 
anguish  worse  than  death.  In  the  event,  forty 
thousand  ecclesiastics  were  driven  from  France, 
no  inconsiderable  number  of  these  confessors  of 
the  faith  becoming  the  honoured  guests  of  Pro- 
testant England.  The  power  of  nicknames  is 
great,  and  the  supporters  of  the  constitutional 
clergy  called  them  "  patriots,"  and  styled  the 
non- jurors  *'  aristocrats."  This  was  ingenious  ; 
and  it  cannot  be  denied  that  some  of  the  bishops, 
in  their  pastorals  and  other  official  documents, 
expressed  themselves  in  terms  which  exhibited 
their  dislike  of  the  new  order  of  things.  Nay, 
language  used  by  the  Pope  himself  lent  colour 
to  the  allegation  that  he  regretted  the  ancien 
regime,  notwithstanding  its  abuses ;  that  he 
associated  the  cause  of  the  old  monarchy  with 
the  liberties  of  the  Church.  By  the  Civil  Con- 
stitution the  Revolution  had  shown  itself,  clearly, 
as  rabidly  anti-Catholic,  and  how  could  the  Pope 
or  his  clergy  be  expected  to  love  it  ?  But  the 
pretres  assermentes  did  not,  in  the  event,  fare  much 
better  than  the  non-jurors.  By  1794  the  Civil 
Constitution  had  become  a  mere  shadow.  Apos- 
tasy had  thinned  the  ranks  of  its  votaries.  It  had 
been  made  well-nigh  as  difficult  for  them  as  for  the 
orthodox  ecclesiastics  to  discharge  their  functions. 
They  had  ceased  to  receive  stipends,   and  were 

the  Carmes."  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  savagery  of 
the  Revolutionary  butchers  was  especially  directed  against 
religious  women.  Some  touching  details  of  their  heroism  will  be 
found  in  M,  Bird's  work,  Le  Clerge  de  France  pendant  la  Revohition 


68   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

almost  all  in  abject  poverty.^  To  declare  oneself 
a  Christian  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  incivism, 
and  was  punished  accordingly.  Ministers  of  re- 
ligion who  would  not  deny  their  faith,  were  cast 
into  filthy  dungeons,  there  to  await  a  mock  trial, 
of  which  the  foregone  conclusion  was  the  guillotine. 
And  this  bitter  persecution  lasted,  with  a  few  lulls, 
until  the  end  of  the  Directory,  It  is  pleasant  to 
read  that  many  of  the  Constitutional  clergy,  when 
brought  face  to  face  with  death,  displayed  better 
sentiments  than  those  which  had  animated  them 
during  life.  The  Abbe  Emery,  in  a  letter  addressed 
to  Pius  VI.,  writes  -  that  during  the  seventeen 
months  of  his  imprisonment  in  the  Conciergerie, 
the  schismatic  priests  confined  there,  before  making 
their  appearance  at  the  revolutionary  tribunal, 
without  exception  repudiated  the  oath  which  they 
had  taken  to  the  Civil  Constitution,  and  urgently 
sought  to  be  reconciled  to  the  Church. 


VI 

So  much  must  suffice  as  to  the  earliest  chapter 
in  the  history  of  the  relations  between  the  Catholic 
Church  and  the  Revolution.  There  can  be  no 
question  as  to  its  significance.     It  is  the  record  of 

^  Gregoire  writes  that  in  1794  all  the  churches  were  closed 
except  a  few  in  outlying  villages. — Histoire  des  Secies  Religieuses, 
vol.  i.  p.  179. 

*  This  most  interesting  letter  is  gi\^n  by  Theiner,  Doc, 
Jn&d.,  vol.  i.  p.  439. 


n]  *'A   SORT  OF  RELIGION''  69 

an  implacable  war  against  Catholicism  of  which 
the  Rousseauan  demagogism  was  as  intolerant  as 
any  medieval  inquisitor  had  ever  been  of  heresy. 
And  this  is  but  the  carrying  out  of  the  express 
teaching  of  the  Contrat  Social,  which  insists  that 
**  Christianity  preaches  only  servitude  and  de- 
pendence "  ;  that  "  true  Christians  are  made  to 
be  slaves  "  ;  that  Catholicism,  "  like  the  rehgion 
of  the  Lamas  or  of  the  Japanese,"  by  *'  giving 
men  two  legislations,  two  chiefs,  two  countries," 
is  ''so  evidently  bad,  politically  considered,  that 
it  would  be  mere  waste  of  time  to  argue  about  it." 
In  these  words  we  have  the  key  which  explains 
the  Civil  Constitution  of  the  clergy  and  all  that 
came  of  it.  Lord  Morley  of  Blackburn  tells  us 
that  *'  at  the  heart  of  the  Revolution  was  a  new 
way  of  understanding  life."  ^  And  this  is  un- 
doubtedly true.  It  was  not  a  merely  political 
movement :  it  exhibited  itself,  in  the  words  of 
Alexis  de  Tocqueville,  as  a  *'  sort  of  religion." 
Nor  was  it  merely  a  national  movement ;  Lord 
Acton  truly  says  :  "  The  Rights  of  Man  were  meant 
for  general  application  ;  they  were  no  more  specially 


^  Rousseau,  vol.  i.  p.  4.  Among  the  "  springs  "  of  the 
Revolution  Lord  Morley  reckons  "  undivided  love  of  our  fellows, 
steadfast  faith  in  human  nature,  steadfast  search  after  justice, 
firm  aspiration  towards  improvement  and  generous  contentment 
in  the  hope  that  others  may  reap  what  reward  may  be."  One 
rubs  one's  eyes  as  one  reads  these  words,  and  thinks  of  what  the 
history  of  France  from  1789  to  1799  really  was.  Can  Lord 
Morley  be  poking  fun  at  his  readers  ?  But,  no  ;  Lord  Morley 
is  nothing  if  not  serious. 


70   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

French  than  is  the  multipHcation  table."  ^  It 
dealt  with  the  individual,  not  as  a  member  of  a 
particular  race,  tribe  or  kindred,  but  as  a  man. 
Like  Christianity,  it  professed  to  have  glad  tidings 
of  great  joy  for  all  people.  Anacharsis  Clootz,  in 
expounding  it,  assumed  the  title  of  "  Orator  of 
the  Human  Race  "  ;  and  at  all  events,  that  buffoon 
thus  truly  indicated  its  pretension.  Its  leaders 
supposed  themselves  to  be  living  "  dans  le  siecle 
de  lumieres,  dans  Tage  de  raison,"  their  mission  to 
give  light  to  a  world  which  had  hitherto  sat  in 
darkness  and  in  the  shadow  of  death.  It  claimed 
to  replace  Christianity,  and  its  leaders  emphatically 
asserted  this  claim  by  abolishing  in  1793  the  Chris- 
tian era,  and  by  substituting  the  d^cadi  for  the 
Sunday. 


VII 

Lord  Morley  then  seems  to  me  well  warranted 
when  he  speaks  of  the  French  Revolution  as  "  a 
new  Gospel  "  ;  "  aliud  Evangelium  quod  non  est 
aliud "  ;  a  Gospel  according  to  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau,  quite  incompatible  with  the  Gospel 
of  Jesus  Christ.  And  this  the  chiefs  of  the  Revo- 
lution ever  apprehended.  Thus  the  Directory 
wrote  to  Bonaparte  in  February,  1797  :  "  You  are 
too  accustomed  to  politics  not  to  have  felt,  as  well 
as  we,  that  the  Roman  religion  will  always,  by  its 

I  ^  Lectures  on  the  French  Revolution,  p.  m. 


II]  IRRECONCILABLE  ENMITY  71 

essence,  be  the  irreconcilable  enemy  of  the  Re- 
public." ^  "  By  its  essence."  The  words  are 
worth  noting.  What  they  called  ''  the  Repubhc  " 
was  a  polity  embodying  the  doctrine  of  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau  :  his  postulates  or  fundamental 
axioms  of  man's  congenital  goodness  and  ration- 
ality, freedom,  and  sovereignty ;  of  the  con- 
tractual nature  of  human  society,  and  of  the  un- 
limited sovereignty  of  the  State.  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  remark  that  these  axioms  are  really 
monstrous  sophisms  ;  that  man  is  no  more  essen- 
tially good  than  essentially  bad  ;  that  so  far  from 
being  wholly  rational,  speaking  and  thinking  like 
a  book,  he  is  much  more  under  the  dominion  of 
habit  and  passion  than  of  logic — nay,  that  the 
number  of  people  capable  of  general  ideas  and 
consecutive  reasoning  is  extremely  limited  ;  that 
inequality,  mental,  physical,  civil — not  equality 
— is  his  heritage,  and  ever  must  be  ;  that  the  social 
contract  is  a  fraudulent  fiction,  and  the  unlimited 
sovereignty  of  the  State  deduced  from  it  an  out- 
rage on  man's  most  sacred  and  most  inalienable 
prerogative — the  rights  of  conscience.  All  this  is 
"  as  true  as  truth's  simplicity,  and  simpler  than 
the  infancy  of  truth  "  ;  but  that  is  not  my  present 
point.  My  present  point  is  that  the  teaching  of 
Christianity  is  utterly  opposed  to,  utterly  irre- 
concilable with,  these  postulates.  Christianity 
takes  man  as  he  is — a  being  under  two  laws,  the 
law  of  his  mind  and  the  law  in  his  members  :   not 

^  Quoted  by  M.  de  Pressense,  p.  334. 


72   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

doing  the  good  that  he  would,  and  doing  the  evil 

that  he  would  not.     And  in  answer  to  his  exceeding 

bitter  cr}^  "  O  me  miserum  !     O  wretched  that  I 

am,  who  shall  deliver  me  ?  "  it  offers  itself  as  the 

rescuer.     It  starts  with  the  fact,  which  only  the 

theory-blind  can  ignore,  that  there  is  in  the  heart 

of  every  man,   more  or  less  developed,   an   evil 

principle — radicale  B'dse,  Kant  called  it — which  is 

a    primordial,    permanent    ingredient    of   human 

nature.     You  may  give  it  what  name  you  will,  or 

leave  it  innominate,  you  may  explain  it  how  you 

will,  or  pronounce  it  inexplicable,  that  taint,  that 

perversion.     But  there  it  is,  ''a  wild  beast  within 

us,"  to  use  Plato's  word.     He  added,  "  The  wild 

beast  must  be  tamed."     Rousseau  lets  it  loose — 

with  what  consequences  the  history  of  France  from 

1789  to  1799  may  sufficiently  show.     And  it  is 

the  best  of  us  who  are  most  sensitively  conscious 

of  the  innate  evil  element  in  us,  which  thwarts 

and  mars  our  life,  just  as  it  is  the  wisest  of  us  who 

feel  most  acutely  the  inadequacy  of  the  individual 

reason  as  the  guide  of  human  action.     Nor  is  it 

too  much  to  say  that  here  we  have  the  very  raison 

d'etre  of  Christianity  which,   as  one  of  tlie  pro- 

foundest  students  of  man  and  societ}^  has  observed, 

is  "  a  complete  system  of  repression  of  the  depraved 

tendencies  of  man."  ^     It  is  also,  he  goes  on  to 

note,    *'  the   greatest   element   of   social   order  "  ; 

and  it  is  this  because  it  bases  that  social  order  not 

upon  the  fleeting  caprice  of  the  multitude,   but 

^  Ilonorc  de  Balzac,  QLuvrcs,  vol.  i.  p.  7. 


II]  CHRISTIANITY  AND  CIVIL  SOCIETY  73 

upon  justice — jusUtia  fundamentum  regni.  It 
knows  nothing  of  a  social  contract  between 
sovereign  and  equal  units.  It  accounts  of  civil 
society,  in  whatever  form,  as  of  divine  ordinance  ; 
of  right  as  issuing,  not  from  the  empirical  con- 
sensus  of  individuals,  but  from  that  ^fto?  vov^ 
which  is  the  supreme  reason  ;  of  human  juris- 
prudence ^  as  the  adaptation  to  our  needs  of  "  the 
moral  laws  of  nature  and  of  nations  " — an  ideal 
order  of  right  ruling  throughout  all  worlds.  And 
this  law  of  virtue  which  we  are  born  under,  it  does 
not  exhibit  as  "  an  appendage  to  a  set  of  theo- 
logical mysteries,"  -  but  as  a  natural  and  per- 
manent revelation  of  Reason,  whereof  conscience 
is,  in  the  words  of  Aquinas,  the  practical  judgment 
or  dictate,  for  it  is  the  entering  into  the  individual 
of  the  objective  law  of  Right. 

I  must  not  enlarge  on  this  topic,  nor,  indeed,  is 
that  necessary  for  my  present  purpose.  I  have 
said  enough,  I  think,  to  show  how  irreconcilable 

^  So  Aquinas :  "A  human  law  bears  the  character  of  law, 
so  far  as  it  is  in  conformity  with  right  reason  ;  and,  in  that  point 
of  view,  it  is  manifestly  derived  from  the  Eternal  Law.  But 
inasmuch  as  any  human  law  recedes  from  reason,  it  is  called  a 
wicked  law  ;  and  to  that  extent  it  bears  not  the  character  of 
law,  but  rather  of  an  act  of  violence  "  {Sttmma  Theologica,  i,  2, 
q-  93.  ^-  3.  ad.  2).  Or,  as  he  elsewhere  puts  it,  "  Laws  enacted 
by  men  are  either  just  or  unjust.  If  they  are  just,  they  have  a 
binding  force  in  the  court  of  conscience  from  the  Eternal  Law 
whence  they  are  derived.  .  .  .  Unjust  laws  are  not  binding  in 
the  court  of  conscience,  except  perhaps  for  the  avoiding  of  scandal 
or  turmoil  "  {Ibid.,  q.  96,  a.  i). 

2  As  Lord  Morley  seems  to  think.     See  his  Voltaire,  p.  50. 


74   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

is  the  doctrine  of  Rousseau  with  the  doctrine  of 
Cathohcism.  And  this  is  quite  sufficient  to  ex- 
plain the  rooted  hostihty  to  Cathohcism  which 
animated  the  men  of  the  first  French  Revolution, 
and  which  equally  animates  their  successors — 
their  spiritual  children,  if  I  may  so  speak— at  the 
present  day.  It  is  natural  that  these,  as  it  was 
natural  that  those,  should  seek  to  decatholicise 
France.  In  place  of  Catholicism,  the  present  rulers 
of  that  countr\'  have  nothing  to  offer  but  Atheism. 
Some  of  the  older  Revolutionists  thought  Atheism 
insufficient.  They  felt  that  man  does  not  live  by 
bread  alone  ;  that  he  needs  a  religion  of  some  sort 
to  support  "  the  burden  and  the  mystery  of  all  this 
unintelhgible  world."  And,  at  all  events,  it  is 
to  their  credit  that  they  did  their  best  to  provide 
substitutes  for  Christianity.  Let  us  go  on  to 
consider  what  those  substitutes  were. 


VIII 

But  before  we  proceed  to  do  that,  I  would  ask 
my  readers  to  look  a  little  more  closely  at  the 
religious  history  of  France  during  the  first  ten  years 
of  the  Revolution  (1789-99).  That  period  divides 
itself  into  three  portions.  First,  there  are  the 
twenty-eight  months  of  the  National  Assembly,  sub- 
sequently called  Constituent  ;  then  come  the  well- 
nigh  twelve  months  of  the  Legislative  Assembly ; 
next  the  three  years  of  the  National  Convention  ; 


II]     THE  CONSTITUTIONAL  CHURCH     75 

and  lastl}',  the  four  years  of  the  Directory.  The 
great  work  of  the  National  Assembly  in  the  domain 
of  religion  was,  of  course,  the  Civil  Constitution 
of  the  Clergy — the  setting  up,  in  July,  1790,  of  a 
schismatic  Church.  That  Church  may  be  said  to 
have  had  a  career  of  four  and  a  half  years,  its  end 
as  a  State  religion  being  wrought  by  the  decrees 
of  the  Convention  of  the  i8th  of  September,  1794, 
and  of  the  21st  of  February  and  the  30th  of  Ma}^ 
1795,  which  professed  to  establish  liberty  of  wor- 
ship. It  started  with  some  prospect  of  success. 
Probably  one- third  ^  of  the  French  clerg}^  at  first 
adhered  to  it.  But  it  bore  within  it  the  seeds  of 
dissolution  and  death.  As  soon  as  the  Pope's 
condemnation  of  the  Civil  Constitution  of  the 
Clergy  became  known,  many  priests  who  had 
accepted  it,  with  or  without  qualification,  with- 
drew from  it.  Not  a  few  who  adhered  to  it  lost 
their  influence  by  marriage  or  some  other  scandal. 
A  certain  number  apostatised  from  Christianity. 
Popular  feeling  was  everywhere  in  favour  of  non- 
juring  clergy, -and  the  troubles  which  arose  through- 
out France  might  well  have  caused  the  Constituent 
Assembly  serious  searchings  of  the  heart  as  to  the 
policy  of  their  ecclesiastical  legislation. 

^  That  is  the  estimate  accepted  by  the  Abbe  Pisani  after 
careful  examination.  See  his  L'Egliss  de  Paris  et  la  Revolution, 
p.  188. 

2  "  Les  fideles  ne  tarddrent  pas  a  manif ester  leur  preference  : 
pendant  que  le  cure  constitutionel  disait  la  messe  paroissiale  dans 
I'eglise  vide,  il  y  avait  foule  aux  heures  ou  officiaient  les  inser- 
mentes." — Pisani,  L'Eglise  de  Paris  et  la  Revolution,  p.  236, 


76   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [cii. 

But  revolutions  never  turn  back.  And  the 
Legislative  Assembly,  which  met  on  the  first  of 
October,  1791,  devoted  no  small  portion  of  the 
twelve  months  less  nine  days  during  which  it 
existed  to  devising  measures  of  persecution  against 
the  nonjuring  priests.  We  must  not  forget  that 
the  Girondins  were  the  most  conspicuous  initiators, 
and  the  most  zealous  fautors,  of  those  laws  of 
tyranny  and  proscription.  They  were,  indeed, 
animated  b}^  so  intense  a  hatred  of  Christianit}^ 
that  Sainte  Beuve's  account  of  Condorcet,  their 
chief  philosopher  and  theorist,  may  well  apply 
to  the  whole  party  ;  "  fanatique  d'irreligion  et 
atteint  d'une  sorte  d'hydrophobie  sur  ce  point." 
And  Durand  de  Maillane,  the  Deput}^  of  the 
Bouches  du  Rhin,  expressed  the  opinion,  **  le 
parti  girondin  etait  plus  impie  meme  que  le  parti 
de  Robespierre."  It  was  Roland  who,  on  be- 
coming Minister,  gave  the  signal  for  this  persecuting 
legislation.  On  the  23rd  of  April  and  the  9th  of 
May,  1792,  he  wrote  to  the  Assembly,  begging  them 
to  take  measures  against  the  "refractory"  priests, 
a  request  which  amounted  to  a  command,  three- 
fourths  of  the  Legislative  Assembly  being  under 
the  control  of  the  Girondin  party.  On  the  29th  of 
November,  1791,  indeed,  the  Assembly  had  passed 
a  decree  declaring  that  all  ecclesiastics  who  should 
refuse  to  take  the  civic  oath  forfeited  by  such 
refusal  their  salaries  and  pensions.  It  further 
declared  that  the  nonjuror  priests  were  "  suspect  " 
of  revolt  against  the  law,  and  of  evil  intentions 


II]  THE  GIRONDINS  77 

against  the  country,  and  as  such  were  specially 
recommended  to   the   surveillance   of   the  public 
authorities.  But  this  was  insufficient  to  satisfy  their 
thirst  for  persecution.     So,  on  the  27th  of  May, 
1792,   a  further  decree  was  adopted  proscribing 
the  nonjurors,  as  a  body  and  without  trial.     Verg- 
niaud  and  Gaudet  were  chief  movers  in  procuring 
this    measure,    which   may    be    regarded    as    the 
crowning     achievement     of     the    Girondins.       It 
mirrors  them  truly  with  their  contempt  for  liberty, 
their  hatred  of  priests,  their  passion  for  delation. 
The  whole  of  this  law  of  theirs — a  law  involving 
the  deportation  of  thousands  of  Frenchmen — rests 
upon  the  sole  basis  of  denunciation.     And  they 
sought  to  enlarge  this  basis,  as  far  as  possible, 
by  providing,  in  Article  VIII.,  that  the  denuncia- 
tion should  be  received  even  when  the  delators 
{les  citoyens  delateurs)  did  not  know  how  to  write. 
The  utterances  of  Isnard,   one  of  the  principal 
members  of  their  party,  in  the  sitting  of  the  14th 
of  November,  1791,  well  interpret  their  sentiments  : 
"  If  there  are  complaints  against  a  priest  who  has 
not  taken  the  oath,  he  should  be  compehed  to 
quit  the  kingdom  ;    proofs  are  not  necessary  {il 
nefaiit  pas  dc  preuves)."  ^    By  wa\^  of  supplement 
to  this  measure,  a  decree,  passed  on  the  26th  of 
August,  ordained  that  all  nonjuring  priests  who, 

^  In  the  course  of  the  debate  on  this  decree  a  deputy,  one 
Lariviere,  read  from  the  tribune  the  Chapter  of  the  Conirat 
Social,  which  declares  the  right  of  the  State  to  put  to  death 
dissentients  from  its  rehgion. 


78  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

in  a  fortnight  should  not  have  left  the  kingdom, 
should  be  deported  to  Guiana.  Louis  XVI.  vetoed 
these  decrees,  but  they  served  as  a  pretext  for 
arbitrary  violence  throughout  the  country.  And 
the.  time  was  rapidly  approaching  when  Louis 
XVL  and  his  veto  should  be  taken  out  of  the 
way. 

On  the  2ist  of  September,  1792,  the  Legislative 
Assembly  came  to  an  end,  and  the  National  Con- 
vention took  its  place.  At  the  first  session  of  the 
Convention,  Collot  d'Herbois,  a  strolling  comedian, 
brought  forward  a  motion  for  the  abolition  of 
royalty  ;  and  the  hall  resounded  with  applause. 
The  motion  was  carried  and  the  Republic  pro- 
claimed. On  the  3rd  of  December,  Robespierre 
proposed  that  the  king  should  at  once  be  declared 
*'  a  traitor  to  his  country  and  a  criminal  against 
humanity,  and  should  be  immediately  condemned 
to  death  for  an  example  to  mankind,"  alleging 
as  a  precedent  for  this  summary  proceeding  that 
"  Hercules  did  not  resort  to  legal  tribunals,  but  at 
once  relieved  the  world  of  its  monsters."  The 
Assembly,  however,  declined  to  emulate  the  ex- 
ploits of  Hercules,  preferring  to  decree  injustice 
by  a  law.  On  the  19th  of  January,  1793,  it  voted 
the  murder  of  the  King,  and  was  congratulated  by 
Cambaceres  on  "  having  done  a  deed  the  memory 
of  which  would  never  pass  away  and  which  would 
be  graven  by  the  pen  of  immxortality  on  the  fasti 
of  the  world."  Murdered  the  King  was,  accord- 
ingly, on  the  2ist  of  January,  having  recommended 


II]  AS  SHEEP  APPOINTED  TO  BE  SLAIN  79 

by  letter  his  family  to  the  care  of  the  Conven- 
tion. That  Assembly  passed  a  resolution,  "  That 
the  people  of  France,  always  magnanimous, 
would  take  upon  themselves  the  care  of  his 
family."  This  magnanimous  engagement  was 
fulfilled  by  guillotining  the  wife  and  sister  of 
the  monarch,  by  slowly  doing  to  death  his  infant 
son,  and  by  keeping  his  daughter  in  close 
confinement. 

The  Convention  having  thus  begun  its  tyranny 
by  shedding  the  innocent  blood  of  the  King,  con- 
tinued it  by  slaughtering,  without  mercy,  the  no 
less  innocent  ministers  of  religion.  The  men  who 
dominated  it  were  the  declared  enemies  of  Chris- 
tianity in  all  forms  and  phases.  The  Constitu- 
tional clergy  was  well-nigh  as  hateful  to  them  as 
the  Catholic,  but  was  attacked  in  a  different  way. 
In  November,  1793,  they  passed  a  decree  de- 
claring that  the  public  authorities  might  receive 
from  ministers  of  any  cult  the  renunciation  of 
their  ministry.  And  on  the  30th  of  that  month 
they  accorded  to  apostate  bishops,  cures,  and 
vicars  annual  pensions  varying  from  1200  to  800 
francs.  A  very  considerable  number  of  the  Con- 
stitutional clergy  accepted  the  thirty  pieces  of 
silver. 

The  orthodox  clergy,  who  could  not  thus  be 
bought,  were  killed  all  the  day  long,  and  were 
counted  as  sheep  appointed  to  be  slain.  They 
were  drowned  in  batches,  or  sent,  en  masse,  to 
the  scaffold.     Or,  worse  fate  still,  were  sentenced 


80   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

to  deportation.^  The  sufferings  of  the  priests 
condemned  to  this  torture  are  indescribable — 
huddled  together,  in  the  most  filthy  conditions, 
with  galley  slaves,  insulted  and  outraged  by  their 
guardians,  every  religious  act  prohibited  under 
pain  of  being  cast  into  irons.  Carlyle  has  depicted 
their  state  in  words  which,  though  every  one  is 
as  an  echo  of  Dante's  Inferno,  yet  fall  short  of 
the  truth.  **  Ragged,  sordid,  hungry :  wasted  to 
shadows  :  eating  their  unclean  rations  on  deck 
circular^,  in  parties  of  a  dozen  :  beating  their 
scandalous  clothes  between  two  stones  :  choked 
in  horrible  miasmata,  closed  under  hatches,  sevent}^ 
of  them  in  a  berth,  through  the  night :  so  that 
the  aged  priest  is  found  dead  in  the  morning,  in 
the  attitude  of  prayer."  The  chief  legislative 
measures  -    against     them     were     the    laws    of 

1  M.  Bire  tells  us  of  a  batch  of  forty  of  them  on  board  the 
Vaillantc,  bound  for  Guiana.  Two  days  after  they  set  sail,  the 
Vaillante  was  captured  by  an  English  vessel,  whose  captain — 
afterwards  celebrated  as  Lord  Exmouth — noticing  the  costume 
of  the  priests,  asked  one  of  them,  who  they  were.  On  receiving 
a  reply  he  saluted  them  courteously,  saying,  "  Gentlemen,  this  is 
the  richest  capture  I  have  ever  made  in  my  life." — Le  Clerge  de 
France  pendant  la  Revolution,  p.  135. 

2  It  may  be  worth  while  to  quote  M.  Eire's  excellent  summary 
of  this  legislation  (p.  172).  "  La  Convention,  continuant  I'oeuvre 
de  I'Assemblee  legislative,  comme  I'Assemblee  legislative  avait 
continue  I'oeuvre  de  I'Assemblee  constituante,  se  contente  de 
faire  deux  lois  contre  le  clerge  catholique,  mais  deux  lois  d'exter- 
mination.  Loi  du  18  Mars  1793.  Les  pretres  qui  devaient  etre 
dcportds  et  qui  ne  le  sont  pas,  on  qui,  ayant  ete  deportes,  sont 
revenus  de  la  deportation,  seront  mis  a  mort  dans  les  vingt-quatre 
heures.  Loi  du  21  Avril,  1793.  1°  :  Tons  les  ecclesiastiques 
r6guliers,   seculiers,   freres   convers   et   freres   lais   qui   n'ont   pa 


n]         LAWS  OF  EXTERMINATION         81 

extermination    made  respectively  on  the  i8th   of 
March  and  the  2ist  of  April,  1793,  to  which  indeed 
may  be  added  the  law  of  the  17th  of  December,  1793, 
the  terrible  lot  des  suspects.     To  enforce  this  penal 
legislation  the  Convention  sent  out  into  each  de- 
partment two  deputies  designated  "  representants 
du  peuple  en  mission,''  who  were  empowered  to 
create    revolutionary  committees    with    virtually 
despotic  powers.      The  savagery  perpetrated  by 
these  emissaries  of  anti-religious  fanaticism  has 
never  been  surpassed.     At  Lyons,  Collot  d'Herbois, 
in  a  single  day,  condemned  to  death  a  hundred 
and  twenty  victims.     Lebon,  at  Arras,  shed  their 
blood  in  torrents,  and  no  inconsiderable  number 
of  them  perished  in  the  drownings  of  Nantes.     The 
Revolution  was  not  less  cruel  towards  religious 
women.     Those    of   Compiegne    gave    this    noble 
answer  to  their  persecutors,  who  charged  them  with 
fanaticism  :     *'  Fanatics   slaughter   and  kill  :     we 
pray    for   them."     "  You    will    be    transported." 
''  To  whatever  place  that  may  be,  we  shall  pray." 
"  Where  do  you  wish   to   be   transported  to  ?  " 
*'  Where  there  are  the  most  unhappy  to  be  con- 
soled :     and   there   are  nowhere   so   many   as   in 
France."     ''  If  you  remain   here,   it   is   to   die." 

prete  le  serment  de  maintenir  la  liberty  et  I'egalite  (serment 
impose  par  I'Assemblee  legislative  le  14  Aout,  1792),  seront 
deportes  a  la  Guyane.  2°  :  Ceux  meme  qui  auront  prete  ce 
serment  seront  egalement  deportes  s'ils  sont  denonces  pour  cause 
d'incivicism  par  six  de  leurs  concitoyens."  And  these  two 
atrocious  measures  of  proscription  were  supplemented  on  the 
17th  September,  1793,  by  the  loi  de  suspects, 

G 


82  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

**  We  will  die."  These  holy  women  sang  the 
Salve  Regina  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold.  The 
simple  faithful  often  rivalled  in  courage  the  priests 
and  nuns.  An  assembly  for  worship  was  held  in 
a  grotto.  Those  present  were  warned  by  the 
priest  that  their  hymns  were  heard  by  the  can- 
noneers of  the  Republic.  "  That  does  not  matter, 
my  father,"  they  replied.^  It  is  notable  that  the 
Convention,  in  its  last  sitting  (24th  October,  1795), 
provided  fresh  pains  and  penalties  for  priests.  It 
left  the  Departments  of  France  covered  with 
Watch  Committees  (Comites  de  Surveillance),  Re- 
volutionary Committees,  Military  Commissions. 
The  religious  houses,  which  had  been  turned  into 
dungeons,  were  crammed  with  prisoners,  of  whom 
a  certain  number  were  led  forth,  day  b}^  day,  and, 
after  a  mock  trial,  were  conducted  to  the  guillotine, 
which,  as  the  phrase  ran,  was  en  permanence. 
France  was  deluged  with  blood — innocent  blood, 
for  against  the  vast  majority  of  the  condemned 
no  shadow  of  an  offence  was  so  much  as  attempted 
to  be  proved.  Piety,  attachment  to  rehgion  were 
regarded  as  capital  crimes,  as  was  also  the  mere 
fact  of  being  a  priest,  unless  the  accused  had  married 
or  apostatised. 

IX 

There    are    writers,    and    writers    of    name, 
who  represent   the  period  of  the  Director}^  (ist 

*  De  Pressens6,  L'Eglise  Catholique  et  la  Revolution,  p.  257. 


II]    THE  POLICY  OF  THE  DIRECTORY    83 

November,  1795,  to  gtli  November,  1799)  as  being 
one  of  comparative  toleration  for  the  Catholic  clergy. 
Lamartine,  indeed,  goes  so  far  as  to  say,  "  Sous  le 
Directoire  la  proscription  avait  cesse."  Nothing 
could  be  more  opposed  to  the  truth.  The  policy 
of  the  Directory  was  a  policy  of  ruthless  persecu- 
tion ^  carried  out  with  a  cynical  contempt  of  all 
legal  guarantees,  which  recalls  the  proceedings  of 
the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  during  the  worst 
days  of  the  Terror.  In  1795  there  was  a  widespread 
feeling  in  France  in  favour  of  religious  peace. 
The  Directory  by  no  means  shared  it.  Rewbel 
declared  in  one  of  his  speeches,  "  II  faut  pour- 
suivre  les  pretres  refractaires  comme  des  betes 
fauves  qu'il  faut  exterminer."  -  He  and  his  col- 
leagues did  their  best  to  carry  out  this  programme.^ 

^  On  the  3rd  of  Ventose,  Year  III.  (21st  February,  1795),  was 
passed  what  has  been  called  the  law  of  the  Separation  of  Church 
and  State.  Except  that  it  deprived  the  constitutional  clergy  of 
their  ill-gotten  stipends,  it  was  a  mere  form. 

2  "  Je  n'ai  jamais  eu  qu'une  reproche  a  faire  a  Robespierre, 
c'est  d'avoir  ete  trop  doux,"  was,  according  to  Carnot,  Rewbel's 
judgment  of  "  the  Incorruptible." 

3  A  very  full  account  of  their  proceedings  is  given  in  M. 
Victoire  Pierre's  masterly  book.  La  Terreiir  sous  le  Directoire 
(Paris,  1887),  and  in  the  excellent  work  which  may  be  regarded 
as  a  supplement  to  it,  18  Fructidor  (Paris,  1893),  where — to  quote 
his  own  words — ^he  presents  "  I'histoire  d'une  juridiction  peu 
connue,  celle  des  commissions  militaires."  Most  of  the  historians 
of  the  French  Revolution  say  not  a  word  about  this  terrible 
chapter  in  its  annals.  Taine  devotes  to  it  a  single  pregnant 
sentence  :  "  De  toutes  parts,  dans  les  departments,  les  commis- 
sions militaires  fusillent  en  force."  M.  Pierre,  with  enormous 
labour,  has  collected  authentic  official  documents  which  supply 
a  complete  and  horrible  justification  of  these  words  of  Taine. 


84  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

They  passionately  wished  to  sever  France  from 
her  ancient  rehgion.  But  they  had  not  a  free 
hand  until  after  the  coup  d'etat  of  the  i8th  of 
Fructidor  {4th  September,  1797),  which  delivered 
the  country  once  more  to  the  Jacobins  and  plunged 
the  Church  into  a  savage  persecution.  The  very 
next  day  a  decree  was  passed  abrogating  the  law 
of  the  7th  of  Fructidor  (24th  August),  1797,  and 
reviving  all  the  preceding  legislation  against  the 
clergy — even  the  laws  of  1790  and  1791,  which 
required  the  oath  to  the  Civil  Constitution  of  the 
Clergy,  now  defunct ;  but  besides  resuscitating 
those  enactments,  it  conferred  on  the  Directory 
an  absolute  right  to  deport  priests  whom  it  should 
judge  guilty  of  "  troubling,  in  the  interior,  the 
public  tranc[uillity/'  And  this  legislation  rested 
in  full  force  until  the  end  of  the  Directory,  and 
was  worked  with  unscrupulous  vigour  by  anti- 
Christian  zealots  throughout  France.  The  Direc- 
tory, indeed,  did  not  employ  largely  the  guillotine 
to  kill  priests.  They  preferred  that  their  victims 
should  die  slowly  by  deportation  ^ — a  mode  of 
punishment  called  la  guillotine  seche — or  that  thej^ 
should    be    shot    by    military    commissions.-    A 

1  The  favourite  place  of  deportation  was  French  Guiana,  but 
owing  to  the  vigilance  of  British  cruisers,  it  was  difficult  for  the 
French  convict  ships  to  make  their  way  there,  and  large  numbers 
of  priests  were  shut  up,  in  terrible  conditions,  concerning  which 
some  details  will  be  given  in  the  next  Chapter,  in  the  isle  of  R6 
and  the  isle  of  Oleron. 

-  There  is  a  touching  story  in  M.  Bird's  volume  of  a  venerable 
priest,  Mathurin  Cochon,  who  was  arrested  by  the  Revolutionary 


II]      THE  PURCHASE  OF  APOSTAGY      85 

private  letter  from  Nantes,  dated  the  7  th  of 
Januar}/,  1798,  which  chanced  to  be  intercepted 
by  the  pohce,  and  has  been  preserved  in  official 
archives,  gives  a  graphic  account  of  the  state  of 
the  Catliolic  clergy  there  at  this  period. 

"  Everything  is  going  from  bad  to  worse  here  since  the 
i8th  of  Fructidor.  All  the  nonjuring  priests  are  concealed,  and 
those  who  are  caught  are  shot  or  deported  :  things  are  pretty 
much  as  they  were  in  the  time  of  Robespierre.  All  the 
emigres,  priests  or  laity,  who  are  arrested  are  shot  within 
twenty-four  hours  ;  and  all  people  who  are  '  suspect  '  are 
shut  up  in  prison.  Those  condemned  to  deportation  are 
huddled  together  in  the  prisons  of  Rochfort  and  the  Isle 
of  Re."  1 

But  the  Directory  employed  against  religion 
other  weapons  besides  death  and  deportation. 
Following  the  example  of  the  Convention,  it  en- 
couraged the  constitutional  clergy  by  money 
gratifications  to  apostatise,  and  in  many  instances 
it  provided  them  with  employment  in  the  service 


troops,  and  who,  worn  by  hunger,  asked  a  little  girl  for  a  bit  of 
a  morsel  of  bread  which  she  had  in  her  hand.  "  Yes,"  she 
replied,  "  take  it."  "  You  see  I  can't,  my  hands  are  tied." 
Then  the  child  put  the  bread  into  his  mouth.  He  thanked  her 
and  told  her  God  would  bless  her  for  what  she  had  done.  Just 
then  a  well-known  constitutional  cleric — one  LaUeton — came  up, 
and  remarked,  "  Take  the  oath  and  I  guarantee  your  life."  "  No," 
he  replied,  "  I  have  not  suffered  so  much,  up  to  now,  to  damn 
myself  at  this  moment."  "  Then  do  your  duty,  soldiers,"  the 
schismatic  priest  rejoined.  They  did.  (P.  264.)  This  was  on 
8th  September,  1798. 

^  Quoted  in  Eire's  Lc  Clerge  de  France  pendant  la  Revolution, 
p.  140. 


86   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

of  the  State.  Another  anti-Christian  measure  of 
even  more  importance  was  the  substitution  of  the 
decadi  for  the  Sunday,  and  the  imposition  of  a  new 
Calendar,  devised  by  Fabre  d'Eglantine,  shortly 
before  his  execution  for  forgery,  in  which  domestic 
animals,  fowls,  vegetables,  and  fishes  figure  in- 
stead of  the  mysteries  and  Saints  of  Christianity.^ 
M.  Bire  sees  here  *'  the  most  dangerous  weapon 
wielded  by  the  Revolution  in  the  strife  Vv^ith  the 
Church."  -  And  a  writer  of  a  very  opposite 
school,  M.  Aulard,  judges,  "  To  substitute  for 
Catholic  rites  and  feasts,  other  dates  and  feasts, 
to  abolish  Sunday,  and  to  impose  the  lay  decadi, 
to  replace  the  names  of  Saints  b}^  those  of  objects 
which  constitute  the  true  riches  of  the  nation,  was 
to  snatch  from  Catholicism  its  ornament  and 
distinction  (parure  et  prestige)  ;  it  was  violently 
to  expel  it  from  the  national  habits."  "  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  Directory  stuck  at  no  violence 
to  accomplish  this  "  reform."  Gregoire  does  not 
speak  too  strongly  when   he   says   that    "  whole 

^  The  Turkey,  the  Pig,  the  Cat,  the  Goat,  the  Rabbit,  have 
places  in  that  curious  document.  The  19th  July,  which  is  the  feast 
of  St.  Vincent  of  Paul,  is  consecrated  to  German  wheat  (Epeautre)  ; 
28th  August,  the  feast  of  St.  Augustine,  to  the  Water  Melon  ; 
2nd  December,  the  feast  of  St.  Francis  Xavier,  to  Horse-radish. 
It  seems  hard  to  believe  that  this  performance  of  Fabre  d'Eglantine 
should  have  found  admirers  ;  but  it  did.  For  Michelet  it  is 
"  le  Calendricr  vrai  ou  la  nature  clle-mcme  nomme  les  phases  de 
I'annee,"  and  Louis  Blanc  describes  it  as  a  "  chef-d'oeuvre  de 
grace,  de  podsie  et  de  raison." 

2  Bird,  Le  Clerge  ds  France  pendant  la  Revolution,  p.  369. 

'  Le  Cult  de  la  Raison  ct  le  Cult  de  I'Etre-Suprtmc.  Avant- 
Propos. 


n]  DEC  AD  I  FURY  87 

departments  were  tortured  by  decadi  fury  "  ;  ^  he 
gives  ample  warrant  for  these  words.  It  is  notable 
that  the  Directory  was  busy  with  further  projects 
of  persecution  when  the  coup  d'etat  of  the  i8th 
of  Brumaire  put  an  end  to  its  existence. 


X 

Thus  much  as  to  the  persecution  of  Christianity 
in  France  from  1789  to  1799 — enough  perhaps  to 
illustrate  the  truth  of  M.  Eire's  observation : 
"  The  Revolution  was  before  all  things  anti- 
Christian  :  its  chief  work  was  to  expel  and  kill 
priests,  to  shut  and  desecrate  churches,  to  tear 
away  the  soul  of  France  from  the  Catholic  re- 
ligion." But  there  were  among  its  earlier  leaders 
some  who  appreciated  the  dictum,  "  On  ne  tue 
que  ce  qu'on  remplace."  Let  us  now  proceed  to 
see  how  they  proposed  to  replace  the  Catholic 
Church  :  what  were  the  substitutes  for  Chris- 
tianity which  they  provided  for  France. 

First  among  the  inventors  of  new  religions 
comes  Pierre  Gaspard  Chaumette — Anaxagoras  he 

1  "  Quelques  departments  tirailles,  tortures  par  la  fureur 
decadaire,"  Histoire  des  Secies  Religieuses,  vol.  i.  p.  229.  The 
whole  of  the  chapter — the  tenth — headed,  Persecutions  pour  le 
decadi,  in  which  this  statement  occurs,  is  well  worth  reading. 
It  was  in  August,  1800,  that  the  decadi  was  abolished  by  a  Consular 
decree,  after  an  existence  of  seven  years.  Gregoire  truly  remarks 
(p.  339),  "  La  posterite  ne  pourra  jamais  se  former  qu'une  idee 
tres  incomplete  de  ce  qui  les  fetes  decadaires  ont  coute  d 'argent, 
de  larmes,  de  tortures  et  de  sang." 


88   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

called  himself,  I  do  not  know  why — whom  Lord 
Morley  praises  as  showing  "  the  natural  effect  of 
abandoning  belief  in  another  life  by  his  energetic 
interest  in  arrangements  for  improving  the  lot  of 
men   in    this   life."  ^     The   most   famous   of   the 
arrangements  claiming  that  character  which  en- 
gaged the  energetic  interest  of  Chaumette  was  the 
worship  of  Reason — indeed,  it  would  seem  that 
he  was  not  only  energetically  interested  in  this 
cult,  but  was  its  actual  originator.     In  the  Com- 
mune of  Paris  he  found  his  first  converts,   and 
through  the  favour  of  that  body  he  was  allowed 
to  set  up  his  religion  on  the  loth  of  November,  1793, 
in  the  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame.     A  sort  of  eleva- 
tion which  they  called  a  mountain  (tme  montagne) 
was  erected  over  the  high  altar  of  the  Church, 
with  a  kind  of  throne  whereon  the  Goddess  of 
Reason  was  installed.     Who  the  Goddess  was  we 
do   not   certainly   know  :     the   honour   has   been 
claimed  for  Mdlle.   Aubrey,   for  Mdlle.   Maillard, 
for  Mdlle.  Candeille,  all  of  the  Opera  ;    but  the 
probabilities  are  in  favour  of  the  concubine  of  the 
printer    Momoro.     Prudhomme    testifies  :     "  Mo- 
moro  entretenait  une  femme  assez  fraiche  qu'il 
traitait  durement.     II  en  faisait  alors  sa  servante. 
Enfin  il  en  faisait  une  Deesse  de  Raison."     De 
Maistre  speaks  of  the  Goddess  as  "  toute  nue  "  ; 
but  this  appears  to  be  an  error.     Eye-witnesses 
describe  her  as  clothed,  though  scantily,  in  white 
tunic,  purple  girdle,  and  an  azure  mantle.    Incense 

^  Miscellanies,  vol.  i.  p.  78. 


II]  THE  GODDESS  OF  REASON  89 

was   burnt    before   her,   and   hymns  were   sung, 
of  which  the  two  following  verses  are  a  specimen  : 

"  Descends  6  Liberie,  fille  le  la  Nature  ; 
Le  peuple  a  reconquis  son  pouvoir  immortel : 
Sur  les  pompeux  debris  de  I'antique  imposture 
Ses  mains  reinvent  ton  autel. 

"  Venez,  vainqueurs  des  rois,  I'Europe  vous  contemple  ; 
Venez,  sur  les  faux  dieux  etendez  vos  succ^s  ; 
Toi,  sainte  Liberte,  viens  habiter  ce  temple, 
Sois  la  deese  des  Frangais." 

Which  rites  being  accomplished,  the  Goddess, 
attended  by  her  *'  vestals  " — who  had  been  picked 
up  in  the  coulisses  of  the  Opera — was  borne  aloft 
to  the  Convention,  where  Chaumette  perorated, 
declaring  her  to  be  a  chef-d' ccMvre  of  Nature, 
asserting  that  she  had  inflamed  all  hearts,  and 
demanding  that  the  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame 
should  thenceforth  be  consecrated  to  Reason  and 
Liberty.  One  Laloy,^  who  presided,  expressed 
the  most  lively  satisfaction  at  these  proceedings, 
as  a  triumph  over  superstition  and  fanaticism — 
the  two  words  by  which  Christianity  was  then 
commonly  designated — and  the  Convention  de- 
creed that  the  Cathedral  should  in  future  be  the 
temple  of  Reason.  Next,  Laloy  put  the  sacred 
red  night-cap  on  the  Goddess  and  gave  her  a  kiss 
— *'  the  fraternal  accolade  "  it  was  supposed  to  be. 
Then  the  procession  trooped  out  to  finish  the  day 

^  It  was  this  Laloy  who  presided  over  the  Convention  when 
Gobel  made  his  declaration  of  apostacy,  and  who  congratulated 
the  wretched  man  on  having  "  risen  to  the  height  of  philosophy." 


90   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [CH. 

with  an  orgy — over  which  it  is  better  to  draw  a  veil. 
Chaumette  was  dehghted  with  his  work,  and  pre- 
dicted, "  This  time  Jesus  Christ  won't  rise  again/' 
He  also  professed  a  sure  and  certain  hope  that  in 
four  months'  time  they  would  be  strong  enough 
to  guillotine  all  who  believed  in  God.  The  event 
proved  that  he  was  in  error.  Indeed,  at  the  end 
of  four  months  he  himself  was  guillotined.  It  is 
worth  while  to  notice,  in  passing,  how,  thirteen 
years  before  this  profanation  of  Notre  Dame  took 
place,  it  was  prophesied  in  a  sermon  preached  in 
that  ver}^  church. 

"  Yes,"  the  preacher  exclaimed,  "  religion  is  the  real  object 
of  the  attack  of  the  philosophes.  The  axe  and  the  hammer 
are  in  their  hands  ;  they  merely  await  the  favourable  moment 
for  overturning  the  altar.  Yes:  Thy  temples,  O  Lord, 
shall  be  plundered  and  destroyed  ;  Thy  feasts  abolished  ;  Thy 
Name  blasphemed;  Thy  worship  proscribed.  But  what  do 
I  hear,  great  God  ?  What  do  I  see  ?  The  sacred  canticles 
with  which  these  roofs  have  resounded  in  honour  of  Thee,  are 
replaced  by  lubricious  and  profane  songs.  And  thou,  infamous 
Deity  of  Paganism,  shameless  Venus,  thou  comest  here  to  take 
the  place  of  the  living  God,  to  sit  on  the  throne  of  the  holy  of 
liolies,  and  there  to  receive  the  incense  of  thy  abandoned 
votaries."  ^ 

A  few  days  after  the  enthronement  of  the  God- 
dess of  Reason  at  Notre  Dame,  all  the  Catholic 

^  Gregoire,  Histoire  dcs  Scctes  Religicuses,  vol.  i.  p.  32.  The 
preacher  was  le  Pere  Beauregard,  whom  Gregoire  terms  "  mon 
ancien  professeur."  The  passage  is  given  by  Jauffret,  with  some 
sUght  variations,  in  his  Memoires,  vol.  i.  p.  213.  JaufTret  speaks 
of  tlic  sermon  in  which  it  occurs  as  having  been  preached  three 
years  before  the  Revolution. 


n]       THE  APOTHEOSIS  OF  MARAT        91 

churches  and  chapels  in  Paris  were  closed.  Some, 
however,  were  soon  reopened  for  the  new  cult, 
and  the  example  of  Paris  was  largely  followed 
throughout  France  under  the  guidance  of  the 
deputies  en  mission,  seconded  by  the  generals, 
judges,  and  administrators,  and  supported  by 
"  the  loud  applause  and  aves  vehement  "  of  the 
"  people."  ^  It  is  said  that  within  twenty  days 
over  two  thousand  churches  were  converted  into 
Temples  of  Reason.  Shortly  the  new  religion 
completed  by  a  decree  of  the  Convention  bestowing 
on  Marat — to  quote  the  official  language—''  the 
sublime  honour  of  apotheosis."  "  And  so,"  as 
M.  de  Pressense  pungently  remarks,  "  it  had  pro- 
stitutes for  Goddesses,  and  a  man  of  blood  and  mud 
for  a  martyr  and  Saint."  -  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  had  for  its  arch-enemy  Robespierre,  who  quickly 
made  an  end  of  its  chief  apostles  and  evangelists, 
sending  to  the  scaffold  Chaumette,  Clootz,  and 
even  Momoro,  the  husband,  or  vice-husband,  of 
the  Goddess  of  Reason,  in  company  with  Hebert, 
Gobel,  and  others  of  the  same  persuasion.  Having 
thus  made  straight  the  paths  for  his  own  religion, 
he  proceeded  to  recommend  it  to  the  Convention, 
on  the  8th  of  May,  1794,  in  a  discourse  wherein  he 
dwelt  upon  *'  the  utter  inadequacy  of  Atheism  to 

^  M.  Aulard  describes  this  worship  of  "  Reason  "  as  "  an 
expedient  of  national  defence  "  ("  un  expedient  de  defense 
nationale  ")  !  Le  Culte  de  la  Raison  et  le  Culte  de  I'Etrs  Supreme. 
Avant  Propos. 

-  L'Eglise  et  la  Revolution  Fran^aise,  p.  280. 


92   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

meet  the  innate  convictions  of  the  human  con- 
science," and  recommended  the  Assembly  to  recall 
men  to  the  pure  worship  of  the  Supreme  Being. 
The  Convention  manifested,  in  complying  with 
this  summons  to  the  pure  worship  of  the  Etre- 
Supreme,  as  much  alacrity  as  they  had  shown  six 
months  before  in  adopting  the  impure  worship  of 
Momoro's  concubine ;  indeed,  it  not  only  decreed 
his  existence,  but  voted  him  a  festival  on  the  20th 
of  Prairial — the  8th  of  June.  Accordingly,  when  the 
appointed  day  arrived,  the  feast  of  the  new  Deity 
was  celebrated  with  becoming  splendour  in  the 
gardens  of  the  Tuileries,  Robespierre,  as  President 
of  the  Convention,  pontificating.  In  a  basin, 
situated  in  the  middle  of  the  gardens,  David  the 
painter,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  arrangements, 
had  constructed  with  pasteboard  a  colossal  group 
supposed  to  represent  Atheism  sustained  by  Am- 
bition, Discord,  and  False  Simplicity.  Robes- 
pierre, after  a  discourse  ^  inveighing  against  kings 
and  tyrants,  and  extolling  his  Etre-Supreme, 
descended  into  the  basin  and  set  fire  to  the  images 
there.  It  had  been  devised  that  from  their  ashes 
should  arise  a  statue  "  with  front  calm  and 
serene,'-'  to  symbolise  Divine  Wisdom,  but  un- 
fortunately this  work  of  art  made  its  appearance 

^  His  admirers  likened  him,  on  this  occasion,  to  Orpheus. 
Thus,  in  Boissy  d'Anglas'  Essai  sur  les  fetes  nationales,  we  read, 
"  Robespierre  parlant  de  I'Etre-Supreme  au  peuple  le  phis  eclair^ 
du  monde,  me  rapcllait  Orphee  enseignant  aux  hommes  les 
j)rincipes  de  la  civilisation  et  de  la  morale." 


n]    HYMN  TO  THE  SUPREME  BEING    93 

in  a  villainously  besmirched  condition.^  Nothing 
dismayed,  however,  by  that  accident,  the  Pontiff 
proceeded,  at  the  head  of  the  Convention,  to  the 
Champ  de  Mars,  where  on  a  sham  mountain  had 
been  erected  an  "  altar  of  the  country  "  with  a 
tree  on  the  top — presumably  a  tree  of  Liberty. 
There,  as  an  eye-witness  puts  it,  "  Robespierre 
expectorated  further  rhetoric,"  and  the  pro- 
ceedings were  enlivened  by  a  hymn  to  the  Supreme 
Being  composed  by  Chenier,  in  which  it  is  alleged 
that  the  murder  of  the  King  was  inspired  by  that 
Deity. 

"  Quand  du  dernier  Capet  la  criminelle  rage 
Tombait  d'un  trone  impur,  ecroule  sous  nos  coups, 
Ton  invisible  bras  guidait  notre  courage, 
Tes  foudres  marchaient  devant  nous." 

Of  course,  no  intelligent  student  of  history  in 
judging  of  its  phenomena  will  forget  that  large 
allowance  must  be  made  for  national  character 
and  temperament.  Still  it  is  difficult  to  contem- 
plate  Robespierre's  festival  of  the  Etre-Supreme 
without  recalling  Butler's  question  whether  whole 
nations  might  go  mad.  Carlyle  speaks  of  the 
French  as  "  a  people  prone  to  monomania."  And 
whether  or  no  we  agree  with  him  as  to  that,  there 
are  probably  few  Englishmen  who  will  dissent 
from  his  opinion  that  the  record  of  this  business 
of  the  Etre-Supreme  is  "the  shabbiest  page  of 

*  Wliich  gave  Senart  occasion,  some  weeks  afterwards,  for  the 
witticism,  "  La  Sagesse  de  Robespierre  est  restee  terne,  et  lui- 
meme  est  mort  en  prouvant  qu'il  avait  manque  de  sagesse." 


94   THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

human  annals":  that  "  Mumbo-Jumbo  of  the 
African  woods  seems  venerable  beside  Robes- 
pierre's new  Deity,  for  this  is  a  conscious  Mumbo- 
Jumbo  and  knows  that  he  is  machinery."  But 
stripped  of  Robespierre's  verbiage  and  theatricali- 
tries,  the  religion  which  he  wished  to  establish 
was  Rousseau's  Deism,  and  nothing  else.  M. 
Aulard  truly  says  that  certain  parts  of  the  Emile, 
and  the  last  page  of  the  Contrat  Social,  prepared 
the  way  for  the  Fete  of  the  20th  of  Prairial.  The 
votaries  of  the  Goddess  of  Reason,  naturally 
enough,  disliked  the  new  cult,  but,  warned  by  the 
fate  of  Chaumette  and  Clootz  and  Momoro,  they 
did  not  venture  to  offer  any  resistance  to  it. 
"  That  cursed  Robespierre,"  one  of  them  com- 
plained, "  has  thrown  us  back  ten  3'ears  with  his 
Etre-Supreme  whom  no  one  was  thinking  of  :  we 
were  getting  on  famously  :  he  has  spoilt  all."  It 
seems  hardly  open  to  doubt  that  a  Goddess  of 
Reason,  "  ripe  and  real,"  was  a  divinity  more  to 
the  taste  of  most  Frenchmen  than  Robespierre's 
shadowy  abstraction,  of  whom,  indeed,  the  vast 
majority  could  make  nothing.  Gregoire  tells  us 
of  a  man  who,  summoned  to  a  communal  assembl}^ 
thought  that  the  question  before  the  meeting  was 
of  electing  an  Etre-Supreme.^  And  there  seems 
to  have  been  a  prevalent  opinion  that,  whether 
owing  his  place  to  election  or  not,  the  new  Deity 
was  a  successful  rival  of  "  le  bon  Dieu."  Of 
course,    the     deputies    en    missio^i    hastened    to 

*  Gr6goire,  Histoire  des  Secies  Religieuses,  vol.  i.  p.  102. 


II]  THEOPHILANTHEOPY  95 

introduce  liis  worship  throughout  France,  and  tlie 
terrorised  populace  had  to  profess  it.  Natural!}', 
glorious  accounts  of  its  triumphs  was  sent  to  the 
Convention.  Thus  a  juge  de  paix  of  the  Canton 
of  Sauge  reports  to  that  body  "  a  simple  matter, 
but  enough  to  show  how  this  belief,  free  from 
senseless  and  superstitious  practices,  will  pro- 
pagate the  reign  of  fraternity."  The  simple 
matter  was  this  :  that  at  the  Fete  of  the  Etre- 
Supreme,  one  Trocheteau,  an  apostate  and  married 
constitutional  cure,  gave  his  hand  to  the  citoyenne 
Leveque,  a  Protestant,  and  embraced  her.^ 

Notwithstanding,  however,  enthusiastic  official 
reports  such  as  this,  it  is  certain  that  the  worship 
of  the  Etre-Supreme  did  not  catch  on  ;  and,  of 
course,  the  guillotining  of  its  author  did  not  help 
it.  Intelligent  men  perceived  that  a  cult  with 
more  warmth,  more  colour,  so  to  speak,  was 
wanted.  Hence  the  invention  of  Theophilan- 
thropy,  a  religion,  indeed,  without  mystery  and 
without  dogma,  but  with  much  histrionic  display. 
LareveUiere  Lepaux,  a  member  of  the  Directory, 
is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  its  founder.  But  this 
appears  not  to  have  been  so.  He  expressly  denies 
it  in  his  Memoires,  and  I  do  not  know  why,  in  this 
matter,  he  should  not  be  believed.  It  seems  to 
have  been  excogitated  by  one  Haiiy,  brother  of 
the  famous  chemist  of  that  name,  assisted  by  four 
others  who  were  described  as  "  peres  de  famille.'* 
This  Haiiy  was  the  director  of  an  asylum  for  the 

^  Ibid.,  p.  112. 


96  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

blind,  where  was  a  disused  chapel  which  served 
for  the  first  home  of  the  new  sect.     But  if  Lare- 
velliere   Lepaux   was   not   the   founder   of   Theo- 
philanthropy,  he  was  assuredly  its  most  zealous, 
devoted,    and    influential    adherent.     Indeed,    we 
may  say  that  it  was  his  hobby.     He  was  a  furious 
Jacobin,  breathing  out  threatenings  and  slaughter 
against  Christianity  ;    but  he  was  wise  enough  to 
discern  the  desirability  of  providing  something  to 
replace  it,  and  he  supposed  himself  to  have  found 
that    something    in    Theophilanthropy.     Through 
his    influence   the    Theophilanthropists    obtained 
possession  of  some  of  the  chief  churches  of  Paris, 
Saint-Jaques  -  du  -  Haut  -  Pas,  Saint  -  Nicolas  -  des- 
Champs,  Saint-Germain-l'Auxerron,  Saint-Sulpice, 
Saint-Gervais,       Saint-Thomas-d'Aquin,       Saint- 
Etienne-du-Mont,  Saint-Medard,  Saint-Roch,  Saint 
Eustache.     Indeed,  in  1796  they  invaded  Notre 
Dame,  and  the  choir  and  the  organ  of  that  church 
were  assigned  to  them.     Their  difficulty,  indeed, 
was  not  to  get  churches,  but  congregations.     The 
chief  authority  on  their  tenets  and  rites  is  the 
Manuel  of  Chemin  Dupontes,  which,  by  the  way, 
was    distributed    gratis    throughout    France    by 
direction  of  the  Minister  of  the  Interior.     Perhaps 
I  should  rather  speak  of  their  tenet  than  of  their 
tenets,  for  the  sole  article  of  their  creed  seems  to 
have  been  belief  in  a  Deity  who  bears  a  suspicious 
likeness    to    Robespierre's    Etre-Supreme.     They 
celebrated  their  rites  on  the  decadi,  their  clergy, 
if  the  word  may  be  permitted,  being  for  the  most 


n]     THE  FESTIVAL  OF  TOLERATION     97 

part  apostate  constitutional  priests  and  ci-devant 
Protestant  pastors.     These  gentlemen  were  clad  in 
sky-blue  tunics,  with  red  belts  and  a  long  white 
robe  open  in  front.     They  included  in  their  com- 
munion all  beliefs  except  the  Catholic.     On  the 
Festival  of  Toleration  they  set  up  their  banners 
for  tokens,  each  being  inscribed  with  the  name  of 
some   religious   sect.     In   their   assembhes,    it   is 
stated,  passages  were  read  from  Confucius,  Vyasa, 
Zoroaster,  Theognis,  Cleanthes,  Socrates,  Aristotle, 
La  Bruyere,   Voltaire,   Rousseau,   William  Penn, 
and  Franklin,  but  the  Christian  Bible  was  tabooed. 
In   imitation   of  the   Catholic  religion   they   had 
ceremonies  for  the  various  circumstances  of  life 
— infancy,  marriage,  and  death — parodies  of  the 
Christian  rites.     Hymns  were  copiously  employed 
in  their  churches.     The  sect  lasted,   in  spite  of 
ridicule,   as   long   as   the   Directory   lasted,   and, 
indeed,   a  little  longer  ;    it  was  finally  excluded 
from  the  "  National  Edifices  "  by  a  decree  of  the 
consuls  on  the  5th  of  October,  1801,  and  shortly 
after  disappeared. 


XI 

So  much  as  to  the  substitutes  for  Christianity 
which  the  Revolution  in  its  first  fervour  introduced 
into  France.  They  were  tried  and  found  wanting. 
Perhaps  their  chief  practical  effect  was  to  accelerate 
the  Christian  reaction  which,  in  spite  of  militaiy 

H 


98  THE  REVOLUTION  AND  RELIGION  [ch. 

commissions  and  deportations  and  manifold 
murders,  set  in  under  the  Directory.  No  doubt 
the  extent  of  that  reaction  has  been  exaggerated. 
For  a  statement  made  by  Bishop  Lecoc  in  August, 
1797,  and  widely  repeated,  that  forty  thousand 
communes  had  returned  to  Catholic  worship,  no 
evidence  has  ever  been  produced,  and  there  is  a 
vast  assemblage  of  facts  which  discredit  it.  Still, 
that  there  was  a  reaction — a  considerable  reaction 
— is  undeniable.^  At  the  beginning  of  1798  Bona- 
parte, who,  at  all  events,  had  eyes,  whatever  else 
he  lacked,  wrote  to  Clarke  "  On  est  redevenu 
Catholique  Remain  en  France."  Probably  the 
present  rulers  of  that  country  will  not  attempt  to 
set  up  a  new  religion  of  their  own.  The  ill-success 
of  the  three  which  we  have  been  considering,  not- 
withstanding a  vast  amount  of  State  support, 
affords  them  no  encouragement  for  such  an  under- 
taking. They  appear  to  be  content  to  rest  in 
sheer  Atheism,  to  hold  the  view  expounded 
in  Proudhon's  Popular  Revolutio7iafy  Catechism  : 
**  Qu'il  n'y  a  pas  de  puissance  et  de  justice  au 
dessus  et  en  dehors  de  I'homme  :  et  que  nier  Dieu 
c'est  afhrmer  Thomme  unique  et  veritable  souve- 
rain  de  ses  destinees."     That  is  the  creed  with 

1  Some  very  striking  details  illustrative  of  the  Catholic  revival 
in  1798  will  be  found  in  the  second  volume  of  Jauffret's  Memoires, 
pp.  472-512.  The  Abb6  Sicard,  in  his  interesting  work,  Les 
Evcques  de  France  pendant  la  Revolution,  gives  it  as  the  result  of 
his  careful  statistics,  that  at  the  beginning  of  the  Consulate  there 
were  28,000  priests  in  France,  6000  of  them  being  constitutional 
clergy  of  whom  not  more  than  one-half  exercised  their  ministry. 


n]  UIIOMME  SANS  DIEU  99 

which  the  children  of  France  are  being  indoctri- 
nated. But  can  society  be  carried  on  with  such 
a  creed  ?  It  is  a  question  to  which  history  supphes 
no  answer,  for  the  experiment  has  never  been 
tried.  The  First  Napoleon,  we  may  note,  thought 
not.  "  II  me  faut,"  he  observed  on  one  occasion, 
'*  des  eleves  qui  sauront  etre  des  hommes.  On 
n'est  pas  homme  sans  Dieu.  L'homme  sans  Dieu, 
je  I'ai  vu  a  I'oeuvre  en  1793.  Cet  homme-la,  on 
ne  le  gouverne  pas  :  on  le  fusille." 


CHAPTER  III 
The  Anti-Christian  Crusade 


We  considered  in  the  last  Chapter  the  anti-Chris- 
tian legislation  of  the  Revolution.  In  this  I 
propose  to  give  some  details  of  atrocities  perpe- 
trated in  anticipation  or  in  pursuance  of  that 
legislation.  It  is  curious  to  reflect  how  soon  the 
movement,  of  which  the  New  France  is  the  out- 
come, developed  the  character  of  an  anti- Chris- 
tian crusade.  It  may  be  fully  admitted  that  there 
was  nothing  anti-Christian  in  its  inception.  The 
summoning  of  the  States-General  was  a  vindica- 
tion of  popular  rights  which  had  come  down  from 
the  Ages  of  Faith.  Their  solemn  opening  was 
hallowed  by  the  most  august  act  of  Catholic 
worship.  The  demand  for  reforms  in  Church  and 
State  made  by  the  cahiers — whatever  exception 
may  be  taken  to  some  of  them — were,  on  the  whole, 
congruous  with  the  first  principles  of  religion  and 
morality.  But  a  year  had  barely  passed  away 
before  the  Revolutionary  movement  stood  self- 
revealed  in  its  true  character.     The  14th  of  Juh^ 


100 


[CH.  Ill]        A   COWARDLY  CRIME  101 

1789,  was  marked  by  the  capture  of  the  royal  for- 
tress of  the  Bastille  and  the  assassination  of  its 
little  garrison — a  cowardly  crime  which  not  only 
went  unpunished,  but  was  exalted  by  the  popular 
imagination  into  an  act  of  heroism,  and  is  still 
glorified  as  such  by  a  national  fete.  It  was  the 
beginning  of  the  revolt  against  ordered  govern- 
ment which  was  to  lay  the  French  Monarchy  in 
the  dust,  and  to  issue  in  '*  red  ruin  and  the  breaking 
up  of  laws."  And  it  was  distinctly  and  directly 
anti-Christian.  In  France,  as  in  the  rest  of  Chris- 
tendom, the  precepts  :  "  Fear  God,"  '*  Honour 
the  King,"  were  revered  as  resting  upon  the  same 
divine  authority.  Obedience  to  the  powers  that 
be  was  regarded  as  a  religious  dut}'" — not  indeed 
the  passive  obedience  preached  by  the  Anglican 
clergy,  under  the  Stuarts,  but  the  ratio7tabile 
ohsequium  inculcated  by  the  great  Catholic 
moralists.^  The  taking  of  the  Bastille  was  a 
denial  of  the  duty  of  civil  obedience,  the  procla- 
mation of  a  so-called  right  of  insurrection — a 
"  sacred  "  right  it  is  sometimes  denominated  by 
politicians  to  whom  little  else  is  sacred. 

But  still  more  directly  and  avowedly  anti- 
Christian  was  the  attack  of  the  mob — the  first 
fruits  of  the  Revolution — upon  St.  Lazar  on  12th  of 
July.  The  Bastille  had  an  ugly  record  and  might 
well  have  seemed  a  monument  of  self-condemned 
tyrann}^  Very  different  was  it  as  regards  St. 
Lazar.    Nothing  but  hatred  of  the  Christian  religion 

1  As  to  the  which,  see  p.  9. 


102  THE  ANTI-CHRISTIAN  CRUSADE  [ch. 

could  have  prompted  the  raid  upon  the  house 
of  St.  Vincent  of  Paul  :  an  institution  which  was 
one  of  the  vastest  agencies  of  beneficence  in  France, 
or,  indeed,  in  the  world  :  an  institution  existing 
chiefly  for  the  people,  and  assuredly  not  tainted 
b}^  the  misuse  of  public  authority  or  by  the  abuses 
of  arbitrary  power.  A  century  and  a  half  before 
the  French  Revolution  broke  out,  St.  Vincent  of 
Paul  had  accepted  this  disused  hospital  for  lepers 
as  a  home  for  his  congregation.  During  that 
century  and  a  half  his  w^ork  had  marvellously 
prospered.  In  1788  his  congregation  had  seventy- 
seven  houses  in  France,  five  in  Poland,  fifty-six 
in  Italy,  Spain,  and  Portugal.  So  much  for 
Europe.  In  Asia  they  were  dotted  about  from 
Constantinople  to  Pekin.  In  Algiers  and  Tunis 
his  priests  were  to  be  found  by  the  side  of  the  galley 
slaves  held  in  bitter  bondage  in  those  countries. 

In  France  the  number  of  charitable  institutions 
when  the  Revolution  broke  out  was  immense. 
There  was  hardly  a  parish  which  had  not  some 
foundation  for  the  relief  of  its  indigent,  some 
Hotel  Dieu  served  by  the  brothers  or  sisters,  or 
ladies  of  charity,  of  St.  Vincent  of  Paul.  Then 
again  there  were  the  Foundling  Hospitals,  the 
homes  for  young  girls  who  had  gone  astray,  for 
widows  and  virgins  who  wished,  without  formal 
vows,  to  devote  themselves  to  the  service  of  the 
poor,  for  the  insane,  the  blind  and  the  incurable. 

The  centre  of  all  this  good  work  was  the  vast 
enclosure  known  as  St.  Lazar,  where  there  were 


Ill]  "COMRADES,  LIBERTY"  103 

some  four  hundred  residents — priests,  novices, 
young  students  in  philosophy  or  theology,  forty- 
eight  laics,  and  some  pensioners.  It  was  under 
the  rule  of  a  Superior-General  who  shared  fully  in 
the  laborious  and  ascetic  life  of  the  rest,  his  sole 
privilege  being  to  entertain  two  poor  men,  one  on 
each  side  of  him,  at  dinner.  Side  by  side  with  the 
habitation  of  these  religious,  was  the  dwelling  of 
the  Sisters  of  Charity,  who  were  under  their  direc- 
tion— they  were  some  hundred  and  fifty,  with 
ninety  postulants.  On  the  night  of  12th  July  the 
Revolution  invaded  this  peaceful  home  of  religion 
and  charity.  Two  hundred  ruffians  armed  with 
poniards,  guns,  lances,  hatchets,  broke  open  the 
principal  door  of  the  house  and  began  to  devastate 
the  place,  encouraging  one  another  by  the  cry, 
"  Comrades,  liberty."  After  some  hours  of  aimless 
and  wanton  destruction  these  missionaries  of 
liberty  made  their  way  to  the  refectory.  Having 
devoured  all  the  food  on  which  they  could  lay 
their  hands,  they  proceeded  to  despoil  that  noble 
hall,  cutting  to  pieces  the  hundred  and  sixty 
portraits  of  benefactors  with  which  it  was  hung, 
and  destroying  the  windows,  the  woodwork  and 
the  furniture.  Thence  they  betook  themselves  to 
the  library,  where  fifty  thousand  volumes  were 
hacked  to  pieces  by  them.  The  treasures  of  the 
museum  then  engaged  their  attention  and  any- 
thing capable  of  being  stolen  was  purloined.  The 
room  in  which  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  lived  and  died 
was  next  invaded  :    the  cherished  memorials  of 


104   THE  ANTI-CHRISTIAN  CRUSADE  [cii. 

him  were  dispersed,^  and  his  statue  was  broken 
in  pieces.  At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  the 
missionaries  of  hberty  invented  a  pretext  for  their 
atrocities  in  the  assertion  that  the  congregation 
had  stores  of  concealed  grain — an  allegation  for 
which,  as  was  abundantly  proved,  there  was  no 
shadow  of  foundation. 

We  may  regard,  then,  as  it  seems  to  me,  the 
attack  upon  St.  Lazar  as  the  opening  of  the  Revo- 
lutionary crusade  against  Christianity.  And  I 
would  beg  of  my  readers  to  remember — what  is 
forgotten  or  ignored  by  most  historians — that  it 
w^as  just  this  furious  hatred  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
this  blind  zeal,  this  mad  rage  for  persecuting  her, 
which  was  the  distinctive  mark,  the  special  note 
of  the  Revolution  from  1789  to  1799.  Bishop 
Cousseau  was  not  wrong  when  he  called  the  authors 
of  the  Civil  Constitution  the  elder  brothers  of  the 
murderers  of  September.  During  those  ten  years 
there  were  diversities  of  operation  but  the  same 
spirit.  To  eradicate  the  Catholic  religion  from 
France  was  the  supreme  end.  It  was  for  this 
object  that  the  Legislative  and  Constituent  Assem- 
blies set  up  a  schismatic  Church,  requiring  adhesion 
to  it  under  penalties.  The  Convention  did  not 
want  any  Church  at  all.  After  a  series  of  anti- 
religious  measures,  they  addressed  to  the  Com- 
munes suggestions  for  the  cessation  of  pubhc 
worship,  and,  of  course,  received  the  answers  they 

*  On  14th  July  many  of  the  relics  which  had  been  thrown  into 
the  street  and  courtyard  were  recovered. 


Ill]  LYING  HISTORIES  105 

desired.  Of  the  exploits  of  the  Convention  in 
promoting  the  cult  of  the  Goddess  of  Reason  and 
in  receiving  the  abjuration  of  Gobel  and  his  com- 
pany, I  spoke  in  the  last  Chapter.  I  also  touched 
on  their  legislation  for  furthering  the  apostacy  of 
the  poor  remnant  of  the  Constitutional  clergy.  In 
the  French  Revolution  the  political  question  fell 
altogether  into  insignificance  by  the  side  of  the 
religious.  It  became  a  crusade  for  the  dechris- 
tianization  of  France  and  all  the  powers  of  the 
State  were  unscrupulously  devoted  to  that  end 
until  the  fall  of  the  Directory.  The  end  was  not 
realized  in  spite  of  guillotines,  military  commissions, 
deportations,  drownings  and  numberless  other 
horrors  extending  through  ten  miserable  years. 
The  gates  of  hell  did  not  prevail. 


II 

The  details  of  this  life  and  death  struggle  are 
not  given  with  adequate  fullness  in  any  of  the 
formal  histories  of  the  French  Revolution.  A  few 
lines,  or  it  may  be  a  page  or  two,  have  been  devoted 
by  some  to  certain  of  the  more  colossal  atrocities 
such  as  the  massacre  at  the  Carmes,  the  savageries 
of  Fouche  and  Collet  d'Herbois,  or  the  atrocious 
tortures  inflicted  on  priests  deported  to  the  Isle 
of  Oleron  and  French  Guiana,  but  the  full  story 
is  left  untold,  of  helhsh  cruelty  on  the  one  hand, 
of  divine  heroism  on  the  other.     We  turn  in  vain 


106  THE  ANTI-CHRISTIAN  CRUSADE  [ch. 

to  Thiers,  Mignet,  Louis  Blanc,  Lamartine, 
Michelet,  for  the  history  of  the  crusade  against 
Christianity.  Instead  of  facts,  they  present  us 
with  excuses,  legends,  and,  I  fear  I  must  say,  lies. 
M.  Bire  has  truly  observed  that  more  is  to  be 
learnt  on  this  subject  from  the  few  pages  of  Balzac's 
U7i  Episode  sous  la  Terreur  than  from  the  whole 
of  their  volumes.  We  find  the  real  history  of 
those  times,  written  as  with  blood  and  tears,  in 
documents  such  as  those  preserved  for  us  in  Bishop 
Baruel's  excellent  book,  in  the  pages  of  Bishop 
Jauffret's  Mhnoires,  and  in  the  venerable  Abbe 
Carron's  most  pathetic  volumes.  It  has,  however, 
been  thought  that  a  general  and,  as  far  as  possible, 
complete  martyrology  of  the  Catholics  who 
suffered  during  the  French  Revolution  should  be 
compiled.  We  are  told  "  Pretiosa  in  conspectu 
Domini  mors  sanctorum  ejus."  And  assuredly  the 
histories  of  those  heroes  of  the  faith,  resisting  unto 
blood,  should  be  precious  to  all  whose  sympathies 
are  with  truth  and  righteousness. 

But  the  foundation  of  this  so  desirable  work 
must  be  sought  in  local  memoirs,  diocesan  mono- 
graphs, and  the  like  ;  and  with  the  sanction  and 
encouragement  of  many  of  the  Bishops  of  France 
a  beginning  has  been  made.  Thus,  the  Abbe 
Delarc  has  given  us  an  admirable  volume,  L'Eglise 
de  Paris  pendant  la  Revolution  francaise  (1789- 
1801).  The  Abbe  Odon  has  written  a  pathetic 
and  illuminating  account  of  the  martyrdom  of  the 
Carmelites  of  Compiegne.     M.  Lallic  has  published 


Ill]  A   NEW  MARTYROLOGY  107 

a  most  praiseworthy  work,  Le  Diocese  de  Nantes 
pendant  la  Revolution,  in  the  course  of  which  he 
sketches  the  instructive  career  of  M.  JuUen  Minee, 
the  constitutional  Bishop  of  the  Loire  Inferieure. 
The  Abbe  Bourgain's  L'Eglise  d' Angers  pendant  la 
Revolution  consists  of  fourteen  conferences  and  has 
all  the  vigour,  the  actuality,  which  should  charac- 
terize that  kind  of  composition.  The  Abbe  Bossard 
has  given  us  a  new  chapter  in  the  Acts  of  the 
Vendean  Martyrs.  M.  I'Abbe  Bauzon  and  M. 
I'Abbe  Muguet  have  collected  authentic  details  of 
the  persecution  in  the  Department  of  Saone-et- 
Loire  ;  and  M.  Anatole  Charmasse  has  supplied  a 
pendant  to  this  work  in  his  biography  of  Gouttes, 
constitutional  Bishop  of  that  region,  who  is  tra- 
ditionally believed  to  have  had  the  grace,  before 
he  was  guillotined,  to  retract  his  adhesion  to  the 
Civil  Constitution  and  to  reconcile  himself  with  the 
Church.  To  the  history  of  the  diocese  of  Saint 
Brieuc  during  the  Revolution,  two  volumes  have 
been  furnished  by  an  episcopal  Commission.  It  is 
a  subject  of  peculiar  interest,  because  Brittany  had 
the  bad  eminence  of  being  foremost  in  receiving 
the  shibboleths  of  the  Revolution  and  in  devising 
refinements  of  cruelty  against  the  orthodox  priests. 
The  life  and  death  of  the  Abbe  Talhouet  have  been 
treated  by  M.  Goeffroy  in  a  fascinating  study,  to 
which  he  has  given  the  title  of  Un  Cure  d' autrefois. 
We  owe  to  the  Abbe  J.  P.  C.  Blanchet  a  graphic 
account  of  the  clergy  of  the  Department  de  la 
Charente  during  the  Revolution,  and  to  the  Abbe 


108  THE  ANTI-CHRISTIAN  CRUSADE  [ch. 

Justin  Gary/  what  he  calls  a  Notice  sur  le  clerge  de 
Cahors  pendant  la  Revolution.  The  history  of  the 
Ursulines  of  Bordeaux  during  the  Terror  and  under 
the  Directory  has  been  written  by  the  Abbe  H. 
Lelievre  in  a  volume  of  singular  power. 


Ill 

I  have  been  led  to  enumerate  the  twelve  books 
mentioned  in  the  preceding  paragraph,  not  because 
they  are  superior  in  interest  and  importance  to 
many  others  of  the  kind,  but  because  they  have 
been  briefly  reviewed  in  M.  Bire's  Le  Clerge  de 
France  pendant  la  Revolution  1789-1799,  a  work 
to  which  I  wish  to  call  attention  both  on  account  of 
its  intrinsic  merits,  and  of  its  modest  dimensions. 
The  extracts  from  the  publications  with  which  it 
deals  are  full  of  the  most  pathetic  interest,  and  it 
may  serve  to  send  some  readers  to  the  sources 
from  which  it  is  drawn — readers  who  will  realize 
the  truth  of  the  proverb,  "  Melius  est  petere  fontes 
quam  sectari  rivulos."  I  shall  proceed  to  quote  a 
few  pages  from  it. 

First  take  the  following  account  of  the  murder 
of  the  Abbe  Belouart,  who  suffered,  like  the  early 
mart3TS,  for  the  Name  of  Jesus  : 

"On  January  6th,  1796,  he  was  apprehended  and  shut  up 
in  a  chapel  whence,  when  the  night  was  well  advanced,  they 

^  The  Abb6  Gary's  work  is  a  republication,  with  valuable 
additions,  of  the  Abb6  Floras'  Memoire. 


Ill]         INTROIBO  AD  ALTARE  DEI        109 

took  him  into  a  neighbouring  field,  where  they  massacred  him 
with  their  bayonets.  All  his  body  was  so  pierced  with  bayonet 
thrusts  in  the  back,  head,  sides,  and  belly  that  his  entrails 
fell  out.    When  the  wretches  heard  him  utter  the  names  of 

Jesus  and  Mary  they  cried,  '  Ah  le  sacre  b ,  he  pronounces 

the  name  of  Jesus.  Give  it  to  him  with  your  bayonet.' 
According  to  the  report  of  his  murderers,  the  more  he  uttered 
the  name  of  Jesus  the  more  thrusts  of  the  bayonet  did  he 
receive.  In  conducting  him  to  the  place  of  his  punishment 
they  all  had  lighted  candles  as  a  token  of  their  triumph." 

Next,  let  me  speak  of  another  priest  to  whom  fell 
the  rare  distinction  of  being  guillotined  in  his  sacer- 
dotal vesture.  On  the  21st  of  February,  1794,  as  he 
was  about  to  say  Mass,  and  had  put  on  his  chasuble, 
he  was  seized  by  the  "  patriots,"  and  his  butchers 
insisted  that  he  should  die  in  his  vestments.  He 
was  dragged  round  the  town,  amid  the  sobs  and 
tears  of  the  faithful,  and  when  he  had  arrived 
before  the  scaffold  he  crossed  himself  and  began 
the  Psalm,  Introiho  ad  altare  Dei.  It  is  worth  while 
to  quote  six  lines  of  a  very  beautiful  sonnet 
which  Louis  Veuillot  has  consecrated  to  the 
memory  of  the  Abbe  Noel  Pinot : 

"  L'echaufaud  attendait.     La  canaille  feroce 
Veut  qu'avant  d'y  monter,  I'homme  du  sacerdoce 
Prenne  I'habit  sacre.    Cet  ordre  est  obei. 

"  Le  pretre  alors,  signant  son  front  de  patriarche, 
Tranquille,  met  le  pied  sur  la  premiere  marche, 
Et  dit :  Introiho  ad  altare  Dei." 

Surely  this  is  a  scene  which  ought  never  to  be 
forgotten. 


110  THE  ANTI-CHRISTIAN  CRUSADE  [ch. 

I  will  now  briefly  relate  the  martyrdom  of  six 
Ursulines  of  Bordeaux — an  episode  of  the  persecu- 
tion in  that  city.  Anne  Gassiot,  in  religion  Sister 
Saint  Ursula,  had  been  professed  seven  years  when 
the  delegates  of  the  municipality  invited  her  to 
take  advantage  of  the  "  beneficent  "  decree  of 
the  Legislative,  enabling  her  to  quit  the  religious 
life.  But,  like  the  other  thirty-nine  Ursulines  of 
the  Community  of  Bordeaux,  she  did  not  wish  to 
avail  herself  of  this  privilege.  On  the  ist  of  Octo- 
ber, 1792,  however,  she  was  turned  out  of  her 
convent,  with  the  other  religious,  and  took  refuge 
in  the  house  of  the  Abbe  Bo3^e,  who  was  then 
administering  the  diocese.  She  undertook  the 
dangerous  and  difficult  task  of  carrying  his  corre- 
spondence. She  also  undertook  the  task,  hardly 
less  perilous,  of  messenger  of  the  Association  for  the 
Adoration  of  the  Sacred  Heart.  Two  "patriots" 
denounced  her. 

She  was  arrested  and  imprisoned,  and,  together 
with  five  other  religious,  was  brought  before  a 
military  commission.  This  is  an  extract  from  the 
official  record  of  her  trial. 

"  The  Commission  after  hearing  the  answers  of  the  accused 
and  the  different  documents  regarding  them, 

"  Convinced  that  the  women  Briolle,  Maret,  Dumeau, 
Gassiot,  Lebret  and  Girot  have  assisted,  in  various  private 
liouses,  at  rehgious  services  conducted  by  refractory  priests, 
tfiat  notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  the  tribunal  and  the  means 
of  persuasion  employed  by  it,  they  have  declared  in  open  court, 
that  they  have  heard  the  mass  of  the  said  priests,  and  know 
where  they  arc,  but  will  not  say. 


Ill]  ''VIVE  LA   REPUBLIQUE''  111 

"  Convinced  that  in  all  respects  they  ought  to  be  classed  as 
counter  revolutionists  and  accomplices  of  perfidious  priests,  the 
most  cruel  and  dangerous  enemies  of  the  country, 

"  Orders  that  in  accordance  with  the  law  of  the  27th 
March  and  that  of  the  29th  of  Ventose  they  shall  suffer  tlie 
pain  of  death,  declares  their  goods  confiscated  to  the  benefit 
of  the  Republic,  and  directs  that  the  present  judgment  shall 
be  executed  forthwith  on  the  Place  Nationale  of  this  Com- 
mune." 

A  few  minutes  after  the  sentence  was  pro- 
nounced Anne  Gassiot  and  her  companions 
appeared  on  the  place  of  execution.  Their  faces 
were  irradiated  by  a  peace  and  gladness  not  of 
this  world.  It  was  that  celestial  light,  unknown 
to  Pagan  antiquity  and  reserved  for  Christian 
centuries  :  *'  ibant  gaudentes  a  conspectu  consilii 
quoniam  digni  habiti  sunt  pro  nomine  Jesu  con- 
tumeliam  pati."  On  ascending  the  Rue  Bouffard 
the  six  victims  intoned  Veni  Creator  Spiritus. 
Arrived  at  the  Place  Nationale  they  lifted  their 
eyes  and  saw  the  cleaver  of  the  guillotine  shining 
in  the  rays  of  the  sun.  It  was  five  o'clock  in  the 
evening — "  in  tempore  sacrificii  vespertini." 
Neither  their  heart  nor  their  voice  failed  them. 
To  the  hymn  Veni  Creator  succeeded  the  antiphon, 
so  dear  to  St.  Theresa  and  to  Angela  Merici.  Salve 
Regina  began  one  of  the  martyrs,  and  the  rest  took 
it  up  :  Mater  miser ecor dice,  vita  diilcedo  et  spes 
nostra  salve.  The  words  ceased  as  one  head 
fell  after  another  :  and  then  some  "  patriots  " 
clapped  their  hands  and  shouted  Vive  la 
Repiihlique. 


112   THE  ANTI-CHRISTIAN  CRUSADE  [ch. 


IV 

In  the  last  Chapter  I  touched  briefly  upon  the 
torture  of  deportation  specially  affected  by  the 
Directory  ;  a  torture  often  ending  in  madness 
and  death,  and  inflicted  upon  hundreds  of  priests, 
innocent  of  any  crime  save  that  of  refusing  to 
deny  Christ.  I  will  now  give  a  detailed  account 
of  the  sufferings  of  one  of  them,  as  related  by  a 
distinguished  Frenchman  of  letters,  speaking  out 
of  the  fullness  of  knowledge.  Towards  the  end  of 
May,  1794,  a  great  number  of  ecclesiastics  of  the 
diocese  of  Angouleme  were  brought  to  Rochfort 
and  huddled  together,  with  several  hundreds  of 
clerics  from  other  departments,  on  two  rafts  or 
pontoons  where  they  endured  unimaginable 
horrors.  Among  them  was  the  Abbe  de  Feletz 
who  did  not  succumb  to  his  tortures.  He  eventu- 
ally became  a  member  of  the  French  Academy, 
and  M.  Desire  Nisard,  who,  on  his  decease,  suc- 
ceeded to  his  fauteuil,  spoke  of  this  episode  of  his 
career  in  admirable  words,^  which  I  will  translate, 
however  inadequately. 

"  The  Convention  liad  wished  to  appropriate  tlie  punish- 
ment to  the  condition  of  the  victims.  Of  the  priests  huddled 
together  on  board  the  Two  Associates  and  the  Washington,  it 
made  so  many  martyrs.  During  the  day  it  penned  them  on 
half  of  the  deck  which  was  separated  by  a  grating  from  the 


^  M.  Bire  justly  remarks,  "  Cctte  belle  page  academique  est 
une  belle  page  d'histoire." 


Ill]      THE  REGIME  OF  THE  HULKS     113 

crew.     This  was  their  yard.     There,  with  the  mouths  of  cannon 
charged  with  grape  shot,  continually  pointed  at  them,  on  foot, 
without  tables,  without  seats,  without  books — even  their  manuals 
of  devotion  had  been  taken  from  them — overwhelmed  by  cold, 
hunger,  inaction,  spied  upon,  insulted,  and,  under  pretext  of 
plotting,  searched  by  the  cupidity  of  their  gaolers,  as  though 
their  clothes  in  rags  could  conceal  anything  but  their  nudity — 
all  this  suffering  appeared  to  them  as  a  deliverance  compared 
with  what  awaited  them  at  night.     The  night  was  eleven 
hours  long :   eleven  hours  which  they  were  obliged  to  pass  in 
a  between  decks  five  feet  high  where  the  air  and  the  light 
penetrated  by  only  two  hatches.     Planks  adjusted  all  round, 
breast  high,  served  for  beds  to  a  certain  number  of  them. 
Others  slept  below,  and  on  the  bare  floor.     The  rest  piled 
themselves  up,  some  on  the  middle  of  the  between  decks,  in 
closely  packed  lines,  spread  out  on  the  side,  for  want  of  room  : 
others  in  hammocks  each  containing  two  men,  and  hanging 
close  to  the  faces  of  those  who  lay  below.     The  vision  which 
the  affrighted  imagination  presents  of  such  an  agglomeration  of 
men  in  so  small  a  space,  men  many  of  whom  were  infirm  and 
nearly  all  ill,  what  picture  could  equal  ?     The  regime  of  the 
hulks  at  Rochfort  was  that  of  a  negro  slaver,  with  this  differ- 
ence, that  the  owners  were  in  a  hurry  to  throw  their  cargo  into 
the  sea.     As  soon  as  each,  crawling,  had  dragged  himself  to 
his  place,  often  the  officer  on  duty  would  appear  at  the  entry 
of  the  dungeon,  lantern  in  hand,  pushing  before  him  into  the 
gulf  some  new  prisoner,  whom  he  would  pleasantly  counsel 
to  lie  across  the  others,  promising  him  the  first  place  that  a 
dead  man  should  vacate.     The  poor  wretch  had  not  long  to 
wait.     In  those  endless  nights  how  often  would  piercing  cries, 
and  a  noise  of  people  who  seemed  to  be  scuffling  in  the  dark- 
ness below,  announce  that  delirium  had  converted  into   a 
raging  lunatic  one  who  had  perhaps  been  the  quietest  and 
most  resigned  of  those  sufferers  !     So,  often,  began  an  illness 
on  board  the  hulks  at  Rochfort ;    and  it  did  not  last  long. 
Happy  were  they  who  escaped  by  a  sudden  death  the  tender 
mercies  of   the  infirmarians   of  the   Convention,     Instances 
were  not  unfrequent.     One  night  M.  de  Feletz  felt  a  head 

I 


114  THE  ANTI-CHRISTIAN  CRUSADE  [ch. 

pressing  on  him  more  heavily  than  usual,  and  gently  asked 
his  neighbour  to  move  a  little  ;  but  no  notice  was  taken.  He 
then  supposed  that  the  man  was  asleep  and  said  nothing 
more,  not  wishing  to  rob  the  poor  wretch  of  this  short  respite. 
Next  morning  when  the  first  rays  of  light  penetrated  by  the 
hatches,  he  understood  that  his  shoulder  had  served  all  night 
as  a  funeral  pillow  for  a  corpse.  The  invalids  among  the 
deported  were  placed  on  the  boats  of  the  two  rafts,  where  the 
cold,  the  water  which  soaked  their  wretched  couches,  the 
rolling,  the  want  of  help,  soon  brought  them  to  their  end. 
Every  time  one  of  them  died,  a  flag  was  hoisted  on  the  boat 
and  the  crew,  thus  informed  that  the  Republic  counted  an 
enemy  the  less,  shouted,  hat  in  hand,  Vive  la  Repuhlique. 
Hardly  a  day  passed  but  that  some  boat  carried  off  one  or 
more  dead  to  the  Isle  of  Aix  which  had  become  the  cemetery 
of  the  deportcs.  Sometimes  there  were  as  many  as  fourteen 
of  them  in  less  than  two  days.  Those  who  were  strong  dug  with 
their  hands  the  ditches  in  the  sand  of  the  shore,  and  the  dead 
were  deposited  there  in  silence,  without  any  external  signs 
of  religion,  without  a  prayer."  ^ 


V 

I  will  end  my  citations  with  an  extract  from  the 
Abbe  Sicard's  book  Les  Eveques  pendant  le  Revolu- 
tion giving  a  graphic  account  of  an  ordination  in 
1800  by  Mgr.  d' Avian,  Archbishop  of  Vienne. 
From  1797  this  holy  and  devoted  prelate  had  been 
visiting  his  desolate  diocese — they  were  three  years 
of  a  truly  apostolic  life,  of  journeys  by  night,  of 
perpetual  hiding,  of  constant  watching.  On 
one  occasion,  we  read,  the    Archbishop    and   his 

^  Quoted  by  M.  Bire,  pp.  307-310. 


ni]  AN  ORDINATION  115 

companion  arrived  in  the  late  evening  at  a  chateau 
near  Briangon,  and  the  domestic  taking  them  from 
their  garb  for  beggars,  lodged  them  in  a  hayloft, 
but  being  led  to  suspect  from  the  length  of  their 
prayers  that  they  were  priests,  went  to  tell  the 
chatelaine  about  them.  She  begged  them  to  come 
to  her,  and  after  a  curious  interrogation  discovered 
who  they  were,  and  threw  herself  at  the  feet  of 
the  Archbishop,  thanking  God  for  sending  her 
such  a  guest. 

It  was  at  Monestiere,  in  the  mountains  of  the 
Ardeche,  that  the  ordination  took  place,  the  time 
being  the  dead  of  night,  and  the  place  the  barn 
of  the  presbytery,  the  walls  of  which  had  been 
hung  with  some  rough  cloths.  There  the  young 
men  who  sought  to  dedicate  themselves  to  the 
ministry,  received  sacred  orders  from  the  hands 
of  the  venerable  and  much-tried  pastor,  who 
addressed  them  as  follows  : 

"  My  dear  children,  if  ever  vocation  was  inspired  from  on 
high  is  it  not  yours  ?  Is  it  not  God  Himself  who  has  called 
you  ?  Is  it  not  He  who  has  put  into  your  heart  this  generous 
resolution  ?  Oh,  surely  flesh  and  blood  have  nothing  to  do 
here  to-day.  What  should  they  seek  in  the  sanctuary  ?  There 
are  no  more  riches,  no  more  benefices,  no  more  honours.  The 
temples  have  been  devastated,  the  altars  broken  down,  the 
priests  imprisoned,  banished,  slaughtered,  nay,  what  do  I  say  ? 
The  scaffold  still  stands  ready,  the  prisons  are  crowded  with 
ecclesiastics,  the  lands  of  exile  have  not  given  us  back  our 
banished  ones.  These  locks,  these  chains,  these  blood-stained 
axes,  have  they  no  terror  for  you  ?  "  ^ 

1  P.  449. 


116  THEANTI-CHBISTIAN  CRUSADE  [ch.iii] 

No  !  these  things  had  no  terror  for  those  young 
Christian  athletes,  to  whom  the  measure  of  all 
things  was  the  Cross  of  Christ.  They  had  looked 
them  in  the  face.  And  it  is  well  that  we,  too, 
should  look  them  in  the  face,  and  realize  what  the 
French  Revolution  was — what  it  is.  Yes  :  is. 
"  Marvel  not,  my  brethren,"  an  Apostle  exhorted, 
"  if  the  world  hate  you."  The  French  Revolution 
is  an  expression  of  that  hatred,  the  bitterest,  the 
most  venomous.  The  ethos  of  the  men  in  power 
to-day  in  France  is  precisely  that  of  their  pre- 
decessors at  whose  deeds  we  have  been  glancing. 
They  boast  themselves  the  representatives  of  **  the 
giants  of  1793,"  and  if  they  have  not  as  yet  been 
able  to  emulate  the  exploits  of  their  spiritual 
ancestors,  may  they  not  fairly  plead  lack  of  oppor- 
tunity ?  May  they  not  claim  also  that  they  have 
done  what  they  could  ?  To  have  chased  the 
religious  communities  from  France,  while  stealing 
their  property,  to  have  confiscated  the  miserable 
pittance  doled  out  to  the  French  Church  in  lieu 
of  its  ancient  revenues,  to  have  appropriated  its 
houses,  to  have  made  attendance  at  the  public 
offices  of  religion  a  virtual  disqualification  for  the 
service  of  the  State,  and  to  have  converted  the 
primary  schools  of  France  into  nurseries  of  Atheism 
— surely  this  is  something  considerable.  And  the 
end  is  not  yet.  The  time  may  be  at  hand  when 
it  will  be  open  to  them  to  fill  up  more  fully  the 
measure  of  Robespierre  and  Chaumette,  of  Fouche 
and  Collot  d'Herbois. 


CHAPTER  IV 
A  Typical  Jacobin 


Some  years  ago  I  ventured  to  remark  to  a  dis- 
tinguished French  historian  that  Joseph  Fouche 
might  be  regarded  as  "  la  Revolution  faite  homme." 
My  friend,  a  man  of  few  and  well-weighed  words, 
after  brief  reflection  replied,  **  II  me  semble  que 
vous  avez  raison."  Fouche  is  singularly  con- 
spicuous among  the  founders  of  the  New  France. 
His  astonishing  career  throws  a  flood  of  light  upon 
the  times  and  is  therefore  well  worth  studying, 
whatever  estimate  we  may  form  of  the  man.  Most 
of  his  contemporaries  held  him  in  great  disesteem. 
Liar,  cheat,  assassin,  traitor,  nay,  fanfaron  de 
trahisons,  were  epithets  which  they  freely  applied 
to  him.  Napoleon,  summoning  up,  at  St.  Helena, 
remembrance  of  things  past,  called  him  ce  coquin, 
and  expressed  poignant  regret  at  not  having 
hanged  him.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  does  not  seem  to  have  thought  him 
more  unprincipled  than  most  politicians,  and  had 

a  kindly  feeling  for  him.     That  was  the  case,  too, 

117 


118  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

with  Metternich  ;  and  he  was  on  terms  of  intimate 
friendship — purely  platonic,  be  it  noted — with 
Madame  de  Custine,  with  Madame  de  Remusat, 
with  Madame  Recamier,  and  with  many  other 
charming  and  accomplished  women.  The  litera- 
ture about  him  is  enormous  ;  but  happily  it  has 
been  thoroughly  investigated — I  may  say  win- 
nowed— by  M.  Louis  Madelin,  whose  two  ample 
volumes  ^  supply  a  long-felt  want  in  French 
literature.  This  monumental  work  is  the  first 
attempt  to  present  a  complete  life  of  Fouche. 
Its  author  gives  us  to  understand  that  he  was 
engaged  upon  it  for  six  years.  They  must  have 
been  six  years  of  unremitting  toil,  which  the  result 
thoroughly  justifies.  M.  Madelin  has  used  his 
abundant  materials  with  discrimination  and  im- 
partiality. Moreover,  his  book  is  not  merely  a 
biography.  It  may  truly  be  described  as  being 
also  an  essay  in  psychology,  unpretentious, 
indeed,  but  not,  on  that  account,  of  the  less 
value.  In  what  I  am  about  to  write  I  shall  freely 
use  it. 


II 

Joseph  Fouche  was  born  in  1759  at  Pellerin, 
five  leagues  from  Nantes.  He  came  of  a  good 
middle-class  family  belonging  to  the  French  mer- 
cantile marine — a  more  adventurous  calling  then 

*  Paris  :   Plon-Nourrit,  1901. 


IV]  FOU CHE'S  BEGINNINGS  119 

than  now,  for,  owing  to  the  constant  hostiUties 
with  the  Enghsh,  there  was  in  it  an  element  of 
war.     At  nine  he  was  sent  to  the  College  of  the 
Oratorians  at  Nantes  to  learn  "  grammar  and  the 
humanities  "  ;    but  arithmetic,  physics,  the  exact 
sciences,  had  a  greater  attraction  for  him.     It  was 
soon  decided  that  he  was  unfit  for  a  seafaring 
career  on  account  of  his  delicate  health  ;    and  he 
continued  his  studies  with  the  Oratorians,  who, 
since   the  expulsion  of  the  Jesuits,  had  had  the 
higher  education  of  France  in  their  hands.     In  1781, 
having  received  the  tonsure,^  he  removed  to  their 
Seminary  in  Paris,  where,  among  other  students, 
who  were  to  be  damned  to  everlasting  flame  for 
participation  in  the  worst  atrocities  of  the  French 
Revolution,    were   Joseph   Lebon,    Ysabeau,    and 
Billaud-Varennes.     He  himself  came  much  under 
the  influence  of  a  pious  priest,  Pere  Merault  of 
Bisy,   of  whose   "  angelic  soul "   he  wrote  forty 
years  afterwards,  declaring  that  it  had  penetrated 
his  own.     Clearly  the  effect  of  the  alleged  pene- 
tration was  not  lasting  ;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  down  to  the  year  1792  he  was  a  devout  Ora- 
torian.     He  took  his  colour,  then  as  always,  from 
his  surroundings.     After  teaching  in  various  Ora- 
torian  institutions,   he  was  sent  in   1788   to  the 
college  at  Arras,  as  professor  of  physics.     Here  he 

^  That  is  to  say,  he  was  admitted  to  minor  orders  ;  he  never 
went  further  in  the  ecclesiastical  career.  M.  Wallon,  therefore, 
is  in  error — an  error  shared  by  many  other  writers — when  he 
speaks  of  him  as  "  pretre  defroque,  moine  apostat."  He  was 
neither  a  priest  nor  a  monk. 


120  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

came  under  the  influence  of  the  new  ideas  which 
found  expression  in  the  French  Revolution  ;  and 
here  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Robespierre, 
then  an  advocate,  with  Uttle  business,  to  whom 
he  lent  money,  and  to  whose  sister  Charlotte  he 
paid  much  attention,  without,  however,  becoming 
actually  affianced  to  her.  In  1790  he  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  Oratorian  college  at  Nantes.  There 
the  Revolutionary  doctrines  were  fermenting  in 
the  heads  of  many  students,  the  consequence 
being  an  epidemic  of  anarchy.  Fouche  shortly 
became  principal  or  prefect  of  the  college,  and 
laboured  successfully  to  introduce  order  and 
discipline. 

The  old  institutions  of  the  country — the  French 
Oratory  ^  among  them — were  now  crumbling  away, 
sapped  by  the  Revolutionary  tide  ;  and  Fouche, 
always  "  a  man  of  circumstances,"  as  his  bio- 
grapher calls  him — "  opportunist  "  does  not  seem 
a  precise  equivalent — watched  keenly  the  signs  of 
the  times.  He  became  a  member  of  the  Club  of 
"Friends  of  the  Constitution,"  a  liberal  royahst 
society,  if  I  may  so  speak,  and  in  a  few  months 
he  was  elected  its  president.  In  1792  the  Oratory 
came  to  an  end,  and  with  it  Fouche's  community 
life  of  celibacy.  On  the  17th  of  September,  1792, 
he  married  Mile  Coignard,  daughter  of  the  president 
of  the  administration  of  Nantes,  a  lady  endowed 
with   many   excellent   virtues,    but   of   singularly 

*  A  different  institution  from  the  Oratory  of  St.  Philip  Ncri, 
though  derived  from  it. 


IV]  MADA3IE  FOUCHE  121 

unprepossessing  appearance.^  Barras,  a  good 
judge,  speaks  of  her  "horrible  ughness  "  ;  and 
Vicenzo  Monti  appUes  to  her  the  adjective  *'brutta." 
Fouche  himself  was,  to  say  the  least,  as  ill-favoured 
as  his  spouse — Michelet  attributes  to  him  "  une 
figure  atroce  " — a  fact  which,  later  on,  Robes- 
pierre, oddly  enough,  urged  against  him  in  the 
course  of  a  general  indictment.  But  he  and  his 
wife  appear  to  have  been  indifferent  to  external 
parts  and  graces,  and  were  unquestionably  a 
devoted  couple.  Moreover,  he  always  retained  the 
simple  and  frugal  habits,  the  gravity  and  austerity, 
which  had  marked  his  career  as  an  Oratorian. 
M.  Madelin,  in  an  interesting  page,  traces  the  in- 
fluence, visible  throughout  his  career,  of  heredity 
and  early  education.  The  descendant  of  a  family 
of  sailors,  the  qualities  of  energy,  self-confidence, 
and  coolness,  so  necessary  to  seafaring  men,  and 
treasured  up  through  long  generations  of  them, 
were  ever  displayed  b}^  him.  He  knew  too,  in- 
stinctively, that  it  is  of  no  use  to  sail  against  the 
wind  ;  that  in  order  to  arrive,  one  must  tack  and 
sail  with  it.  Again,  though  he  was  never  ordained 
priest,  his  ecclesiastical  training  had  imparted  to 
him  something  sacerdotal.  Even  in  his  later 
years    his    correspondence    teems    with    bibhcal 

^  Baron  Despatys  describes  her  as  "  une  femme  maigre,  rousse, 
aux  pomettes  osseuses,  une  vraie  laideron  "  (p.  ii)  ;  he  speaks 
of  "  son  caractere  difhcile,  son  humeur  acariatre  "  (p.  250),  and 
refers  passim  to  her  vulgarity  and  avarice.  But  to  these  defects 
arid  blemishes  Fouche  seems  to  have  been  blind.  His  marital 
fidelity  was  matter  of  wonder  in  those  days. 


122  A    TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

phrases.  One  of  his  most  striking  characteristics 
was  an  absence  of  rancour  ;  the  readiness  with 
which  he  pardoned — or  perhaps  I  should  say, 
ignored — injuries,  even  grave  ones,  was  remark- 
able ;  and  this  he  himself  ascribes,  in  one  of  his 
letters,  "  au  souvenir  de  la  morale  Oratorienne, 
qui  etait  celle  de  TEvangile."  To  which  may  be 
added,  that  he  possessed  quite  a  clerical  gift  ''  a 
frequenter,  a  menager  et  a  diriger  la  femme  " — 
a  gift  of  which  he  made  full  proof  with  women  of 
very  different  types  and  positions.  For  Char- 
lotte Robespierre,  for  Josephine  Beauharnais,  for 
Elise  Bonaparte,  for  Madame  de  Custine,  he  is 
"  le  grand  ami,"  the  companion,  the  guide  and 
the  familiar  friend.  Moreover,  as  professor,  he 
had  acquired  the  art  of  managing  men  ;  he  had 
"  le  sens  gouvernmental."  One  more  debt  he 
owed  to  his  studious  youth.  Mathematician, 
physicist,  chemist,  he  had  learnt  to  state  problems 
accurately ;  and  this  is  the  first  step  towards 
their  solution. 


Ill 

Fouche's  political  life  began  in  1792  with  his 
election  to  the  National  Convention  as  a  deputy 
from  Nantes,  in  the  character  of  a  Moderate,  or, 
we  may  say,  a  Conservative.  In  the  Convention 
he  took  his  seat  on  the  Right,  to  the  displeasure 
of  Robespierre,  his  old  friend  of  Arras,  and  was 
numbered  among  the  Girondins.    He  was  appointed 


IV]      THE  NATIONAL  CONVENTION      123 

to  several  Committees  and  took  an  active  part  in 
their  labours.  But  all  the  time  he  was  slowly 
gravitating  towards  the  Left.  When  the  question 
of  the  King's  execution  came  up,  he  inclined  at 
first  against  that  crime  ;  but,  perceiving  that  the 
majority  was  of  the  contrary  opinion,  he  made  no 
difficulty  about  foUowing  the  multitude  to  do 
evil,  and  voted  that  the  monarch  be  put  to  death, 
defending  his  vote  by  a  violent  pamphlet.  This 
was  the  occasion  of  his  leaving  the  Girondist  party, 
and  becoming  the  associate  of  Hebert  and  Chau- 
mette.  "  Esprit  resolu  et  energique,"  says  M. 
Madelin,  "  il  entendait  aller  jusqu'au  bout  de 
I'aventure.  La  parole  etait  aux  violents  :  il  les 
depassa  tons,  au  moins  en  paroles."  Such  was  the 
change  wrought  by  a  few  weeks  of  political  life 
— probably  the  most  corrupting  atmosphere  in 
which  a  man  can  exist — on  the  Moderate  and 
Conservative  candidate  who  had  won  the  suffrages 
of  the  electors  of  Nantes. 

It  was  on  the  13th  of  March,  1793,  that  Fouche 
was  sent  "  en  mission  "  to  the  west  of  France  ;  and 
there  he  made  full  proof  of  his  readiness  to  carry 
out  a  policy  of  *'  thorough,"  which  he  himself  seems 
gradually  to  have  excogitated — the  complete  pro- 
gramme of  what  he  called  "  an  integral  revolu- 
tion." ^    We  should  do  him  an  injustice  if  we 

1  His  letters  to  the  Convention  and  the  Committee  of  Public 
Safety — especially  his  letters  from  Lyons — are  revolting  in  their 
utter  savagery.  That  they  expressed  the  real  convictions  of  the 
man — cold,  hard-headed,  sceptical,  caustic  and,  in  private  life, 
benevolent — is  impossible.     We  must  remember  that  one  of  the 


124  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

supposed  that  he  himself  had  any  personal  pre- 
dilection for  this  integral  revolution.  But  his  aim 
was  to  be — or  to  seem  to  be — in  the  advanced 
guard  of  the  extreme  part}^  his  adhesion  to  which 
had  been  cemented  by  the  blood  of  the  King. 
Hebert  and  Marat  were  at  the  height  of  their 
authority  when  he  left  Paris  ;  and  it  was  his  cue 
to  show  himself  as  good  a  Revolutionist  as  they. 
This  was  undoubtedly  the  secret  of  what  M. 
Madelin  calls  "  the  policy  of  demagogic  exalta- 
tion "  which  he  displayed  at  Nantes,  and  which 
won  him  honour  from  the  terrorists  of  Paris.  The 
programme  of  **  the  integral  revolution  "  was  a 
monstrous  amalgam  of  Jacobinism,  Atheism  and 
Communism.  He  was  ever,  let  us  remember,  "  a 
man  of  circumstances  "  ;  and,  at  the  moment,  the 
faction  of  Hebert,  Chaumette,  Collot  and  Billaud 
was  dressed  in  a  little  brief  authority.  So  Fouche 
was,  for  the  nonce,  of  their  persuasion  ;  he  was 
indeed  the  most  daring  theorist  of  their  party, 
giving  lessons  of  Jacobinism  to  Hebert,  of  Atheism 
to  Chaumette,  of  Communism  to  the  Commune  of 
Paris.  On  the  27th  of  June,  1793,  he  caused  himself 
to  be  designated  Commissary  of  the  Convention  in 
the  West  and  Centre  ;  and,  after  having  installed 
the  Revolutionary  tribunal  at  Nantes,  he  left  that 
city,  amidst  the  maledictions  of  its  inhabitants, 
soon    to   be   succeeded  there   by  his   friend   the 

notes  of  the  Revolutionary  spirit  was  utter  ferocity.  Bishop 
Gauffret  says,  with  entire  accuracy,  "  Dans  ce  temps  d'horreur, 
divclopper  le  moindre  sentiment  d'humanite  etait  un  crime  digne 
de  mort." — Memoires,  ii.  2O1. 


IV]  FOUCHE  EN  3IISSI0N  125 

murderous  Carrier.  At  Nevers,  the  next  scene  of  his 
activity,  he  had  the  assistance  of  another  friend, 
Chaumette,  the  apostle  of  official  Atheism,  whom 
he  enthusiastically  assisted,  making  churches  the 
scene  of  horrible  profanations,  while  over  the  gates 
of  the  cemeteries  he  caused  the  inscription  to  be 
put,  ''  Death  is  an  eternal  sleep."  One  of  his 
achievements  was  the  establishment  of  a  "  philan- 
thropic Committee,"  authorized  by  him  to  levy 
on  the  rich  a  tax  proportioned  to  the  number  of 
the  indigent.  He  also  issued  a  proclamation 
abolishing  mendicity  and  affirming  that  every  one 
has  a  right  to  be  comfortable,  and  ought  to  be 
made  so  at  the  expense  of  the  State.  He  assumed, 
as  pro-consul,  the  power  of  marrying  and  un- 
marrying  people,  and  constituted  himself  a  court 
of  appeal  in  criminal  cases.  He  invited  the  public 
authorities  to  substitute  for  the  God  of  the  priests 
the  God  of  the  sansculottes,  without,  however, 
affording  any  information  concerning  that  Deity. 
Not  only  did  he  claim  the  privilege  of  arbitrary 
taxation  ;  he  also  plundered  the  churches  and 
chateaux  of  all  the  gold  and  silver  which  he  could 
find,  sending  it  to  the  Convention.  Sacks  of 
chalices,  monstrances,  coronets,  dishes,  forks  and 
spoons,  were  poured  out  before  the  assembled 
legislators,  to  the  satisfaction  of  some,  to  the 
disgust  of  others,  among  whom,  to  his  credit, 
Robespierre  must  be  reckoned.  "  Fouche,"  said 
his  admiring  colleague  Chaumette,  "  has  wrought 
miracles." 


126  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

The  Convention  showed  their  appreciation  of 
these  performances  by  decreeing  on  the  30th  of 
October,  1793,  that  Fouche  and  Collot  d'Herbois 
should  be  sent  to  Lyons.  That  unhappy  city  had 
revolted  against  the  rule  of  the  Jacobin  canaille 
who  in  the  name  of  liberty  had  established  the 
most  grinding  tyranny,  in  the  name  of  philanthropy 
had  shed  torrents  of  blood,  in  the  name  of  justice 
had  violated  man's  most  elementary  rights.  It  had 
been  besieged  and  captured  by  the  Revolutionary 
troops,  and  now  was  awaiting  its  doom  from  the 
"  patriots."  That  doom  was  conveyed  in  a  decree 
from  the  Convention  couched  in  these  terms  : 

"  The  city  of  Lyons  shall  be  destroyed.  The  portion  of  it 
inhabited  by  the  rich  shall  be  demolished.  The  name  of 
Lyons  shall  be  effaced  from  the  map  of  the  cities  of  the 
Republic.  The  houses  which  are  left  shall  bear  the  designa- 
tion of  Ville  Affranchie.  On  the  ruins  of  Lyons  shall  be 
erected  a  column  bearing  the  inscription,  '  Lyons  made  war 
on  Liberty  :  Lyons  is  no  more.'  " 

Such  was  the  decree  which  Collot  d'Herbois  and 
Fouche  went  to  carry  out.  Collot,  a  drunken 
debauchee,  was  a  monster  of  cruelty ;  his  feet 
were  swift  to  shed  blood  ;  and  Lyons  became  a 
human  slaughter-house.  It  was  this  cahotin  who 
played  the  principal  part  in  the  atrocities  endured 
by  that  miserable  cit}^  Fouche  seems  to  have 
been  chiefly  his  accomplice  in  the  acts  of  "  canni- 
balism " — that  was  the  expression  subsequently 
used  in  the  Convention — committed  in  1793  and 
1794.     Not,  indeed,  that  Fouche  can  in  the  least 


IV]     ONE  OATH  FAITHFULLY  KEPT    127 

escape  responsibility  for  them.  His  signature  is 
appended  to  the  most  sanguinary  edicts.  He,  too, 
it  was  wlio  organized  the  processions  which  pro- 
faned the  churches,  broke  down  rehgious  emblems, 
burnt  crucifixes  and  the  Gospels,  and  originated 
the  cult  of  the  infamous  Chalier,  a  Jacobin  most 
righteously  executed  during  the  revolt  of  Lyons, 
a  worthy  martyr  of  the  new  irreligion.  "  Chalier, 
Charier  !  "  he  is  reported  to  have  said  in  a  solemn 
discourse,  "  we  swear  by  thy  sacred  image  to  avenge 
thy  punishment  ;  the  blood  of  the  aristocrats 
shall  serve  in  the  place  of  incense."  The  oath 
was  more  faithfully  kept  than  most  of  Fouche's. 
The  guillotine  being  insufficient  for  the  work  of 
massacre,  the  victims  were  arranged  in  batches 
before  trenches  which  were  to  serve  as  their  graves, 
and  were  shot  down  into  them.  At  the  same  time 
people  were  plundered  even  of  their  garments, 
"  the  rich  egoist  "  being  bidden  to  tremble,  as  he 
may  well  have  done. 

Fouche  designed  to  crown  his  work  by  intro- 
ducing the  religion  of  Reason  invented  by  Chau- 
mette  ;  and  the  cathedral  of  Lyons  was  arranged 
for  the  installation  of  a  goddess.  But  news  came 
from  Paris  that  Chaumette,  with  his  new  cult, 
was  rapidly  falling  into  discredit ;  that  Danton 
had  denounced  his  tomfooleries  ;  that  Hebert  had 
repudiated  his  pontificate ;  and  that  he  was 
suspect  to  Robespierre.  The  late  Mr.  Gladstone 
attributed  his  escape  from  "  inconvenience  in  the 
race  of  life  " — what  a  phrase  ! — to  his  faculty  for 


128  A  TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

discerning  "  the  ripeness  of  questions  "  :  ^  in  other 
words,  of  seeing  to  what  quarter  the  pohtical  wind 
was  veering.  Fouche  possessed  in  ample  measure 
this  valuable  gift  de  flairer  le  vent.  He  aban- 
doned the  religion  of  Reason  and  devoted  his 
energies  to  the  propagation  of  Communism  and 
the  work  of  murder.  What  was  called  "  la  terreur 
active  "  was  organized  at  Lyons.  The  crowded 
prisons  had  to  be  purged  {nettoyes).  The  mitraille 
was  called  to  the  aid  of  the  too  slow  guillotine  ; 
and  in  three  or  four  weeks  more  than  two  thousand 
inhabitants  were  massacred.  Fouche  and  Collot 
wrote  to  the  Convention,  "  La  terreur,  la  salutaire 
terreur  est  ici  a  I'ordre  du  jour."  But  a  great  cry 
went  up  from  the  terrorised  city — a  city  every- 
where saturated  with  blood,  enveloped  by  an 
atmosphere  of  putrefaction  and  death.  A  depu- 
tation presented  itself  before  the  Convention 
Collot  d'Herbois  was  summoned  to  Paris  to  justify 
himself  and  his  colleague.  He  appeared,  terrified 
the  cowardly  Assembly,  and  won  from  it  a  vote 
of  confidence.  But  Fouche  was  fully  sensitive 
to  the  signs  of  the  times.  In  December,  1793, 
Robespierre's  determination  to  put  down  the 
Hebertist  faction  was  clearly  manifested ;  and 
before  the  year  1794  was  far  advanced,  the  heads 
of  Danton,  Desmoulins,  Momoro,  Clootz,  and 
Hebert  himself  had  fallen.  Other  prominent 
demagogues  soon  shared  their  fate.  From  one 
point   of   view   this   year   1794   is   the   brightest 

^  The  Irish  Question,  p.  22. 


IV]    LE  FAMEUX  FOUCHE  DE  NANTES  129 

of  that  miserable  Revolutionary  decade.  It  is 
some  satisfaction  to  see  the  vile  canaille  who 
devastated  France  engaged  in  murdering  one 
another.  It  gives  us  a  glimpse,  at  all  events,  of 
that  Eternal  Justice  ruling  the  world,  without 
belief  in  which  life  would  not  be  worth  living. 
"  Nee  est  lex  justior  ulla,  Ouam  necis  artifices 
arte  perire  sua." 


IV 

On  the  17th  of  Germinal,  Year  11.  (6th  April, 
1794),  Fouche  left  Lyons,  recalled  by  the  Con- 
vention to  give  the  necessary  information  regarding 
the  affairs  of  that  city.  He  departed  with  an 
unquiet  mind,  but  full  of  resolution  and  courage. 
At  Paris  his  performances  had  been  persistently 
discussed.  He  returned  thither  not  as  an  obscure 
or  ordinary  commissary,  but  as  one  of  the  pro- 
minent chiefs  of  the  Revolution,  whose  heavy 
hand  had  been  laid  upon  one-fourth  of  the  terri- 
tory of  France.  He  was  commonly  spoken  of  as 
"  le  fameux  Fouche  de  Nantes,"  and  was  extolled 
by  many  as  a  pure  democrat,  which  suggests  an 
enquiry  as  to  what  manner  of  man  an  impure 
democrat  may  be.  But  the  Convention,  as  M. 
Madelin  remarks,  must  have  been  a  terrible  and 
threatening  spectacle  for  him.  A  hundred  empty 
places  testified  to  Robespierre's  "  stern  surgery," 
to  borrow  a  phrase  from  Carlyle.     Chaumette  was 

K 


130  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

to  be  included  in  the  next  batch  of  victims.  Talhen, 
Barras,  Cambon,  Carnot,  Billaud-Varennes,  Collot 
d'Herbois,  were  expecting  their  turn.     Men's  hearts 
were  faihng  them  for  fear.     And  Fouche  had  as 
grave  reason  for  apprehension  as  any  one.     Per- 
sonal enmity  and  political  conflict,  old  antipathies 
and  recent  grievances,  an  absolute  opposition  of 
temperament,  of  principles,  of  politics — all  divided 
the  Incorruptible  from  his  quondam  friend,  the 
ex-professor   of   Arras.     He   was   utterly   out    of 
sympathy  with  the  Communistic  views  professed 
and  applied  by  Fouche,  whose  sacrilegious  per- 
formances and  adhesion  to  Chaumette's  atheistic 
worship  of  Reason  filled  him  with  disgust.     M. 
Madelin  observes,  justly,  that,  little  as  the  fact  is 
recognized,  the  9th  of  Thermidor  was  the  conse- 
quence of  a  religious  strife,  of  the  conflict  of  two 
sects  :   the  cult  initiated  in  the  person  of  Momoro's 
concubine  and  the  cult  of  the  "  Etre  Supreme." 
One   great   quality,    which    assuredly   cannot   be 
denied  to  Fouche,  is  courage.     The  ill  reception 
accorded  to  him  when  he  called  on  Robespierre, 
on  his  return  to  Paris,  sufficiently  indicated  the 
Incorruptible's  hostility.     Fouche  felt  that  his  head 
was  in  jeopardy  ;    but  he  was  not  dismayed,  even 
for  a  moment.     He  possessed  a  supreme  genius 
for  intrigue,  as  his  whole  career  clearly  manifests. 
To  follow  here,  in  detail,  the  incidents  of  the 
game  he  played  at  this  period  would  take  too  long. 
They  will  be  found  in  the  copious  pages  of  M. 
Madehn.     At  one  moment  we  see  him  President 


IV]        THE  NINTH  OF  THERMIDOR       131 

of  the  Jacobin  Club  ;  then  he  is  formally  expelled 
from  it.  That  was  for  him  the  signal  to  redouble 
his  activity.  He  joined  himself  to  Tallien  and 
Billaud,  and  with  them  put  about,  to  the  conster- 
nation of  his  fellow  legislators,  lists  of  the  next 
victims  said  to  be  designated  by  Robespierre  for 
the  scaffold.  His  sang-froid  was  extreme,  and  so 
was  his  confidence.  Of  course,  he  was  always 
talking  of  his  probity,  his  integrity,  and  the  like. 
"  Yet  a  few  days,"  he  writes  to  his  sister,  "  and 
Truth  and  Justice  will  have  a  striking  triumph." 
Truth  and  Justice  !  At  all  events,  Fouche  had  a 
striking  triumph  on  the  9th  of  Thermidor,  when 
Robespierre  fell.  He  was  proud  of  it.  A  year 
afterwards  he  wrote  to  the  Convention  :  "  When 
Robespierre  lorded  it  over  you  as  master,  when 
you  bent  your  heads  like  slaves  before  the  success 
of  his  crimes,  when  you  rendered  the  most  de- 
grading homage  to  his  ferocious  and  murderous 
tyranny,  I  it  was  who,  almost  alone,  combated 
him."  And  so,  many  years  later,  he  observed, 
*'  Robespierre  had  declared  that  my  head  or  his 
must  fall  on  the  scaffold.  His  it  was  that  fell." 
It  must  be  confessed  that  the  skill,  energy  and 
coolness  with  which  Fouche  conducted  his  patient, 
slow  and  secret  operations  merited  this  triumph. 
And  yet  one  cannot  survey  the  events  of  the  9th 
of  Thermidor  without  reflecting  how  large  a  part 
what  we  call  "  accident  "  plays  in  history.  It 
seems  not  too  much  to  say  that,  if  Robespierre  had 
not  been  physically  and  mentally  exhausted  6n 


132  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

that  memorable  day,  if  Henriot  ^  had  not  been 
drunk,  if  the  gendarme  Meda  had  been  less  bold, 
it  would  not  have  been  the  head  of  Maximilien 
that  would  have  fallen,  no,  but  the  heads  of  Tallien, 
CoUot,  Billaud,  Barras,  and  of  the  "  genie  tene- 
breux,  profond,  extraordinaire  " — as  Balzac  well 
calls  him — Fouche,  who  counselled,  united  and 
guided  them. 


V 

The  overthrow  of  Robespierre  was  Fouche's 
first  master-stroke  in  the  Revolutionary  history. 
He  might  have  expected  that  it  would  place  him 
in  a  position  of  security  and  influence.  One  im- 
mediate result  of  it  was,  indeed,  to  restore  him  to 
the  Jacobin  Club,  where  he  was  received  with 
acclamation  as  a  victim  of  the  perfidious  machi- 
nations of  the  dead  tyrant.     But  he  was    soon 

^  Fouche  writes  in  his  Memoires,  i.  25,  "  Ce  fut  Henriot  qui 
compromit,  le  9  Thermidor  (27  Juillet),  la  cause  de  Robespierre, 
dont  il  eut  un  moment  le  triomphe  dans  sa  main.  Qu'attendre 
aussi  d'un  ancien  laquais  ivre  et  stupide  ?  "  As  regards  these 
two  volumes  of  Memoires,  I  cannot  agree  with  the  Baron  Despatys 
{Un  Ami  de  Fouche,  p.  42)  that  "  they  present  nothing  of 
great  interest."  It  seems  to  me  that  they  are  full  of  matter  in 
the  highest  degree  both  interesting  and  important.  Nor  can  I 
doubt  their  virtual  authenticity.  It  was  called  in  question, 
indeed,  in  an  action  brought  by  Fouche's  heirs  in  1824  ;  and  a 
French  Court  decided  against  it.  Nevertheless,  I  venture  to 
think  that  the  internal  evidence  warrants  us  in  regarding  them 
as,  at  all  events,  substantially  Fouche's  ;  "  aut  Fouche  aut 
diabolus."  And  I  am  glad  to  see  that  M.  Madehn  (Preface, 
xxviii)  is  of  the  same  opinion. 


IV]         THE  SWORD  OF  DAMOCLES        133 

alienated  from  his  late  anti-Robespierrian  col- 
leagues, Tallien,  Barras  and  the  rest,  who  now  trod 
in  the  way  of  reaction.  It  can  hardly  have  been, 
as  M.  Madelin  observes,  his  "  fragile  convictions, 
his  accommodating  principles,  his  cold  character," 
that  withheld  him  from  following  them.  No ; 
doubtless,  it  was  rather  because  he  thought  that 
way  led  to  the  counter-revolution  and  the  re- 
storation of  Louis  XVIII. ;  a  consummation 
which,  as  a  regicide,  he  could  not  view  with 
equanimity,  though — such  is  the  irony  of  fate — he 
was  destined,  in  the  long  run,  to  bring  it  about. 
But  he  was  quite  right  in  regarding  his  vote  for 
the  murder  of  the  King  as  the  great  political 
mistake  of  his  life.  It  ever  hung  over  his  impious 
neck,  like  the  sword  of  Damocles,  and  at  last — 
as  we  shall  see  later — it  fell,  cutting  off,  not  indeed 
his  head,  but  his  career.  Fouche,  however,  was 
to  pass  through  many  evolutions  before  that  con- 
summation. At  the  moment  of  which  we  are 
speaking  he  remained  a  terrorist.  He  was  still 
associated  with  the  extreme  Mountain,  and  de- 
clared in  the  Convention  that  "  every  thought  of 
indulgence  is  a  contra-revolutionary  thought." 
He  succeeded,  however,  in  avoiding  the  fate  which 
overtook  the  majority  of  his  Jacobin  associates. 
Within  a  year,  most  of  them  had  been  guillotined 
or  were  rotting  in  Guiana.  He  escaped  their 
doom,  but  only — if  I  may  so  speak — by  the  skin 
of  his  teeth.  The  odium  of  his  atrocities  at  Nantes 
he  managed  to  transfer  to  Carrier,  his  successor 


134  A    TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

there.  Lebon  was  similarly  his  scapegoat  for  his 
deeds  of  blood  at  Arras.  The  denunciations  of 
Tallien,  now  become  a  man  of  clemency  and  good 
principles,  he  met  with  a  haughty  defiance.  He 
managed  even  to  throw  off  responsibility  for  the 
savageries  at  Lyons,  casting  it  upon  Collot 
d'Herbois,  who  was  condemned  to  Cayenne.  To 
the  accusations  against  him  which  came  from 
Nevers,  from  Moulins,  from  Clamecy,  he  replied 
with  his  usual  self-laudation,  declaring  that  his 
soul  was  pure,  nay  more,  holy  and  glorious  ;  that 
there  was  not  an  act  of  his,  during  his  missions, 
which  was  not  marked  by  the  good  faith  of  an 
unstained  conscience,  altogether  occupied  with 
social  perfection  and  happiness  ;  and  that,  if  he 
had  committed  any  error,  it  was  due  to  the  fatality 
of  circumstances.  Such  turgid  rhetoric  was  in 
vogue  at  the  time  ;  and  doubtless  this  bombast 
pleased  the  ears  of  some  of  the  Revolutionary 
legislators.^  But  Fouche,  as  is  evident  from  his 
private  letters,  was  well  aware  of  the  jeopardy  in 
which  he  stood.  The  upshot  was  that  by  a  large 
majority  of  the  Convention  his  arrest  was  decreed. 
And  that  meant  the  Conciergerie,  as  a  stepping- 
stone  to  the  scaffold. 

All  might  now  have  seemed  hopelessly  lost  ; 
but  M.  Madelin  well  observes  that  nothing  was 
hopelessly  lost  where  Fouche  was  concerned.     By 

*  M.  Madelin  truly  remarks,  "  Dans  les  assemblees  les  faits 
p6sent  pen  ct  beaucoup,  au  contrairc,  les  phrases  rclentissantes," 
i.  199. 


IV]     ''THE   WHIFF  OF  GRAPESHOT''    135 

the  influence  of  Barras  or  Tallien  or  of  some  other 
friend,  he  escaped  arrest.  He  proceeded  to  address 
to  the  Convention  a  letter  in  which  he  assumed 
the  tone  rather  of  an  accuser  than  of  an  accused ; 
and  in  a  subsequent  epistle  he  declared  that  the 
judgment  of  posterity  upon  him  would  be  "  he 
was  a  good  son,  a  good  friend,  a  good  husband,  a 
good  father  and  a  good  citizen."  This  is  not 
precisely  the  judgment  of  posterity.  What  that 
judgment  is  we  will  consider  later.  But  Fouche's 
letters  had  the  effect  which  he  desired — he  re- 
mained at  liberty.  He  proceeded  to  demand 
leave  of  absence  for  a  few  weeks,  which  was 
accorded  to  him.  Those  weeks  he  spent  in  plotting 
with  Barras  the  cotip  d'etat  which  came  off  on  the 
13th  of  Vendemiaire,  when  Napoleon's  "  whiff  of 
grapeshot"  was  so  effectively  employed.  This  we 
may  regard  as  Fouche's  second  master-stroke  in 
the  Revolutionary  history.  It  was  he,  chiefly, 
who  had  planned  it.  It  was  he  who  wrote  the 
document  in  which  Barras  defended  it. 


VI 

This  whiff  of  grapeshot  marks  the  end  of  the 
Convention's  career,  and,  we  may  say,  the  beginning 
of  Bonaparte's.  Fouche  avers  in  his  Memoires 
that  "  it  restored  to  him  liberty  and  honour." 
We  may  perhaps  demur  to  the  word  "  honour," 
but  it  certainly  delivered  him  from  the  peril  in 


136  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

which   he   stood.     He   did   not,   however,    derive 
from  it,  immediately,  any  other  benefit.     On  the 
morrow  of  Vendemiaire  he  was  Uterally  buried 
in  obhvion  ;    all  that  remained  to  him  was  one 
valuable    friendship— that    of    Barras.     Through 
Barras'  influence  he  received  some  trifling  employ- 
ment which  just  sufficed  to  keep  him  alive.     It  is 
not  too  much  to  say  that  he  really  subsisted  on 
the  alms  of  Barras,  for  whom  he  appears  to  have 
acted  as  a  sort  of  secret  police  agent.     In  1797 
this  potent  protector  procured  for  him  a  contract 
in  connexion  with  "  the  army  of  England  "  ;   and 
here  was  the  beginning  of  the  immense  fortune 
which  he  subsequently  amassed.     An  era  of  specu- 
lation had  set  in  ;   and  the  great  bankers,  Ouvrard 
and  Hainguerlot,  were  the  financial  kings  of  the 
day.     Fouche  consorted  with  them,  and  continued, 
for  the  rest  of  his  life,  these  useful  relations.     But 
he  ever  kept  his  eye  on  politics.     The  royalists 
had  had  a  great  success  in  the  elections  of  May, 
1797.     The  Assembly  of  Five  Hundred  were  mostly 
reactionaries  ;    and  Barthelemy  had  become  one 
of  the  Directorate.     There  is  ground  for  believing 
that  Fouche  again  offered  himself  to  the  royalists, 
and  that  they  rejected  his  advances  with  disdain. 
He  then  planned  and  induced  Barras  to  carry  out 
the  coup  d'etat  of  Fructidor,  which  crushed  the 
royalist  party  and  delivered  him  from  obscurity. 
This  was  his  third  master-stroke  in  the  history 
of  the  Revolution,   and  was  more  profitable  to 
him  than  the  preceding  two  had  been. 


IV]     FOVCHE  MINISTER  OF  POLICE     137 

Its  immediate  result  was  that  he  was  appointed 
ambassador  to  the  Cisalpine  Republic,  established 
three  months  before.  After  a  short  and  tumul- 
tuous time  there,  he  was  superseded  and  recalled 
by  the  Directory,  But,  as  he  tells  us  with  much 
satisfaction  in  his  Memoirs,  instead  of  standing 
on  the  defensive  he  assumed  the  haughty  tone  of 
injured  innocence  which  he  knew  so  well  how  to 
employ  on  occasion,  and  demanded,  not  only  an 
explanation  of  their  savage  proceedings  in  respect 
of  him,  but  a  pecuniary  indemnity  for  a  money 
loss  which  he  had  thereby  sustained.  The 
indemnity  was  accorded,  but  he  was  begged 
to  keep  the  matter  quiet  ("  de  ne  point  faire 
d'esclandre ").  This  sufficiently  indicated  to 
what  degree  the  authority  of  the  Directory  was 
discredited.  He  then  applied  himself,  with  his 
accustomed  skill,  to  the  intrigues  resulting  in  the 
coup  d'etat  of  Prairial,  Year  vi.  (i8th  June,  1799), 
which  issued  in  the  expulsion  of  the  three  Directors 
who  were  hostile  to  him,  and  gave  his  protectors, 
Barras  and  Sieyes,  the  mastery.  He  claims  in 
his  Memoirs,  no  doubt  justly,  that  he,  more  than 
any  one  else,  brought  this  about.  It  was  his 
fourth  master-stroke.  The  immediate  result,  so 
far  as  he  was  concerned,  was  that  he  was  sent  as 
ambassador  to  Holland.  His  mission  there  was 
quickly  and  skilfully  fulfilled,  and  he  soon  had  his 
reward.  On  the  2nd  of  Thermidor  he  was  named 
by  the  Directory  Minister  of  the  General  Police 
of  the  Republic. 


138  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 


VII 

And  now  we  have  Fouche  as  an  arrive.  There 
can  be  Uttle  doubt  that  again  he  was  quite  ready 
to  go  over  to  the  royaHst  party  if  they  would  have 
had  him.  But  they  would  not.  M.  Madelin  well 
observes  that  he  was  a  revolutionist  by  accident. 
His  sympathies  were  with  law  and  order,  with  a 
strong  and  settled  Government.  Solid  principles 
he  had  none  ;  a  primordial  interest  supplied  their 
place,  and  this  bound  him  to  the  Revolution. 
Jacobinism,  however,  was  played  out ;  so  he 
ceased  to  profess  it.  He  applied  himself,  in  fact, 
to  curb  royalism  on  the  one  hand,  the  ultra- 
revolutionists  on  the  other.  In  a  day  or  two  he 
astonished  the  Directory — and  France  generally — 
by  issuing  a  proclamation  in  which  he  announced 
his  intention  to  re-establish  interior  tranquillity. 
This  was  succeeded  by  a  report  to  the  Directory 
on  Popular  Societies  which  he  desired  to  dissolve. 
The  most  active  and  powerful  of  them  was  the 
terrible  club  of  the  Rue  du  Bac.  For  twelve 
months  it  had  made  the  Directors  shake  in  their 
shoes.  It  had  highty-placed  protectors,  among 
them  Bernadotte,  then  Minister  of  War,  to  whose 
inquiries  as  to  his  intentions  Fouche  replied  : 
"  To-morrow  I  will  deal  with  your  club,  and  if 
I  find  you  at  its  head,  your  head  shall  fall  from 
your  shoulders."  Bernadotte  profited  by  the 
warning.     Fouche  did  not  find  him  at  the  club 


IV]  ANTICIPATION  OF  COMING  CHANGE  139 

when  he  went  there  alone  on  the  morrow,  and 
authoritatively  dissolved  the  assembly,  turning  out 
the  members  and  putting  in  his  pocket  the  keys 
of  the  building,  which  he  calmly  delivered  at  the 
bureau  of  the  Director}^ 

And  now  began  a  series  of  intrigues  of  which 
Fouche  gives  us  in  his  Memoirs  a  full  and,  on  the 
whole,  a  candid  ^  account — intrigues  leading  up 
to  the  coup  d'etat  of  Brumaire.  The  Government 
was  discredited  ;  the  Directors  were  divided  ;  and 
the  popular  mind  was  agitated  by  a  vague  antici- 
pation of  coming  change' — "  quelque  chose  de 
factice,  une  impulsion  occulte,"  Fouche  calls  it. 

"  The  course  of  human  events  "  (he  truly  observes)  "  is 
doubtless  subject  to  an  impulse  derived  from  certain  causes 
of  which  the  effects  are  inevitable.  Unperceived  by  the  mass 
of  men,  these  causes  strike,  more  or  less,  the  mind  of  the 
statesman  ;  he  discovers  them,  it  may  be  in  certain  tokens 
{indices),  it  may  be  in  casual  incidents,  whence  come  inspira- 
tions which  enlighten  and  guide  him."  - 

Fouche  unquestionably,  at  this  period,  displayed 
genius  of  a  high  order  in  reading  the  signs  of  the 
times.  It  was  reported  to  him,  he  tells  us,  that 
two  of  the  clerks  of  his  office,  in  discussing  public 
affairs,  anticipated  the  speedy  return  of  Bona- 
parte from  Egypt. ^     He  set  himself  to  ascertain 

1  Of  course,  his  aim  is  apologetic,  and  some  of  his  statements 
must  be  discounted,  as,  for  example,  his  allegation  (i.  96)  that  his 
management  of  Barras  was  inspired  "  bien  luoins  pour  me  main- 
tenir  que  par  amour  pour  mon  pays." 
■    ^  Memoirs,  i.  103. 
^  Ibid.,  p.  104. 


140  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

their  reasons  for  this  beHef,  and  found  that  it  had 
no  other  basis  than  what  he  calls  "  a  flash  of  in- 
voluntary prevision."  But  this  prevision  pos- 
sessed him  also,  and  he  set  himself  to  follow  it 
up.  He  put  himself  into  communication  with 
Bonaparte's  brothers,  who  also  entertained  it, 
though  the  difftculty  of  communicating  with 
Egypt,  on  account  of  the  English  cruisers,  was  a 
serious  obstacle  to  the  reception  of  authentic 
news.  He  addressed  himself  to  Josephine,  whom 
he  found  easily  accessible.  She  was,  as  usual,  in 
pecuniary  straits,  the  income  of  40,000  francs 
allowed  her  by  her  husband  being  altogether  in- 
sufficient for  her  profuse  expenditure.  A  present 
of  a  thousand  louts  was  gratefully  accepted  ;  and 
similar  subsidies  were  renewed  from  time  to  time. 
"  Through  her  I  got  much  information,"  Fouche 
writes.  What  he  learnt  from  all  quarters  induced 
the  belief  that  Bonaparte  would,  so  to  speak, 
"  fall  from  the  clouds." 

That  is  what  Bonaparte  did,  arriving  in  France, 
shortly  after  the  news  of  his  victory  at  Aboukir, 
amid  a  torrent  of  popular  enthusiasm,  which  much 
impressed  and  by  no  means  pleased  the  Directory. 
Fouche  soon  called  upon  him.  He  was  then  con- 
ferring with  Real,  one  of  his  most  trusted  and 
active  agents  ;  and  Fouche,  of  whom  Bonaparte 
knew  very  little,  was  kept  waiting  for  an  hour  in 
the  ante-chamber.  Real,  well  aware  of  the 
political  importance  of  the  Minister  of  Police,  was 
astonished  by  this  treatment  of  him,  and  made 


IV]  THE  COUP  D'ETAT  OF  BRUMAIRE   141 

representations  which  led  Napoleon  to  order  his 
speedy  introduction.  It  was  the  first  interview 
between  the  two  men,  and  they  soon  came  to  an 
understanding.  The  future  Emperor  discerned  the 
value  of  his  new  auxiliary,  who  at  once  began  to 
exercise  over  him  that  curious  influence  which 
endured  till  1815.  Fouche,  as  the  Director  Gohier 
said,  "  became  one  of  the  conspiracy  "  issuing  in 
the  coup  d'etat  of  Brumaire,  which  was  to  oust 
Gohier  and  his  colleagues  from  the  seat  of  power, 
and  to  introduce  the  Consulate.  But  in  all  the 
intrigues  which  took  place  at  this  time  Fouche 
was  on  his  guard.  He  was  personally  most  anxious 
to  secure  the  success  of  the  coup  d'etat,  his  fifth 
master-stroke  ;  but  he  was  quite  ready  to  exercise 
his  authority  as  Minister  of  Police  against  the 
Bonapartists  in  case  of  their  failure,  and  laid  his 
plans  accordingly.  In  later  years  the  Emperor 
used  jokingly  to  remind  him  of  this  without  a 
trace  of  rancour.  In  spite  of  Bonaparte's  hesita- 
tion at  the  last  moment  ^  the  coup  d'etat  succeeded. 
The  Directory  succumbed  ;  and  Fouche,  in  one  of 
the  declamatory  proclamations  which  he  knew 
well  how  to  compose,  may  be  said  to  have  made 
the  funeral  oration  of  the  Republic.  In  another, 
issued  soon  afterwards,  he  announced  to  the  people 
of  France  the  new  Constitution,  declaring,  in 
words   to   which   subsequent   events   lent   bitter 

1  M.  Madelin  remarks,  "  Tous  lesapprentis  dictateurs  en  notre 
siecle  ont  eu  de  ces  faiblesses  de  la  derniere  minute  ;  heureux 
ceux  qu'une  main  secourable  est  venue  rejeter  dans  Tillegalite." 
i.  268. 


142  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

irony,  "  that  it  should  be  welcomed  with  trans- 
ports by  every  one  who  carries  in  his  heart  the 
love  of  liberty  and  the  desire  of  peace." 


VIII 

It  is  impossible  to  follow  here,  in  detail, 
Fouche's  tortuous  career  during  the  Consulate 
and  Empire.  His  relations  with  Napoleon  were 
very  extraordinary  and  are  very  illuminating. 
For  nearly  sixteen  years  ^  they  were  closely  united  ; 
and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  ex-Oratorian 
was  the  greatest  statesman  who  served  the  Em- 
peror— the  only  statesman,  Napoleon  is  reported 
to  have  declared,  forgetful  of,  or  undervaluing 
Talleyrand.  Fouche,  on  the  other  hand,  though 
well  aware  of  Napoleon's  consummate  greatness 
as  a  general,  had  a  very  low  opinion  of  his  political 
powers,  and  deemed  him  entirely  wanting  in  state- 
craft. Certain  it  is  that  the  Emperor  prospered 
when  he  followed  Fouche's  counsels.  He  dis- 
regarded them  in  the  matter  of  the  Spanish  War, 
of  the  Austrian  marriage,  and  of  the  Russian 
campaign,  with  the  results  which  all  the  world 
knows.  The  two  men's  characters  were  very  dis- 
similar, though  they  had  in  common  a  total 
absence  of  moral  scruples,  a  profound  contempt 

1  On  3rd  September,  1802,  Napoleon  suppressed  the  Ministry 
of  Police,  and  Fouche  went  out  of  office.  On  loth  July,  1S04,  he 
re-established  it  and  recalled  Fouche,  whom  he  dismissed  on  3rd 
June,  1 810,  for  secret  intrigues  with  the  British  Government. 


IV]  FOUCHE  AND  NAPOLEON  143 

for  parliamentary  government,  and  a  deep  hatred 
of  the  newspaper  press.  Napoleon  was  well  aware 
that  Fouche  was  entirely  wanting  in  loyalty,  and 
sought  to  attach  him  by  favours,  creating  him 
Duke  of  Otranto  and  making  him  considerable 
gifts  of  money.  Moreover,  he  relied  on  his  com- 
plicity in  the  murder  of  the  King  as  an  insur- 
mountable obstacle  to  his  being  welcomed  by  the 
Bourbons.  The  event  showed  that  this  calcu- 
lation was  erroneous,  and  that  Napoleon  judged 
the  Bourbons  too  highly.  It  was  not  only  Fouche's 
broad  intelligence,  keen  perceptions  and  inde- 
fatigable activity  which  won  for  him  the  Env 
peror's  admiration.  It  was  also  that  he  was  the 
only  man  that  had  the  courage,  as  the  phrase  is, 
to  stand  up  to  his  Imperial  master.  Napoleon, 
who,  perhaps,  was  less  of  a  gentleman  ^  than  any 
man  that  has  ever  achieved  greatness,  took 
pleasure  in  brutally  reminding  him  of  his  vote 
for  the  murder  of  Louis  XVI.  "  Yes,  Sire," 
Fouche  imperturbably  replied,  "  that  was  the  first 
service  which  I  had  the  happiness  of  rendering 
to  your  Majesty."  On  another  occasion,  "  Duke 
of  Otranto,"  the  Sovereign  said,  "  I  ought  to  have 
you  beheaded."  "  Sire,  that  is  not  my  opinion," 
was  the  Minister's  calm  answer.  At  St.  Helena 
the  fallen  Emperor  expressed  the  opinion  that  if 
he    had    caused    Fouche    and    Talleyrand    to    be 

1  I  have  in  my  mind  a  dictum  of  Cardinal  Newman's  :  "It 
is  almost  a  definition  of  a  gentleman  to  say  he  is  one  who  never 
inflicts  pain." — Idea  of  a  University,  p.  208. 


144  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

hanged  he  would  still  be  on  the  throne.  It  would 
have  been  more  correct  to  say  that  he  would 
have  been  still  on  the  throne  if  he  had  followed 
the  counsels  of  those  statesmen. 

The  end  which  Fouche  had  foreseen  came.  The 
Russian  campaign  broke  Napoleon.  All  Europe 
arose  against  him.  He  was,  in  fact,  played  out. 
Of  this  Fouche  was  well  aware.  Dismissed  in 
1 8 10  from  his  post  of  Police  Minister — it  was  his 
second  disgrace — he  had  been  subsequently  em- 
ployed by  the  Emperor  in  Italy,  and  had  been 
nominated  Governor-General  of  the  Illyrian  Pro- 
vinces, in  which  capacity  he  had  made  his  mark 
during  the  short  time  that  he  held  the  office.  But 
the  Austrians  soon  occupied  the  Illyrian  Provinces, 
whereupon  his  Sovereign  nominated  him  Imperial 
Commissary-General  in  Italy.  The  appointment 
did  not  realize  Napoleon's  expectations.  Fouche, 
of  whose  intrigues  at  this  time  M.  Madelin  gives 
us  a  full  and  vivid  picture,  became — to  use  his 
biographer's  picturesque  expression — "  the  liqui- 
dator of  the  Napoleonic  bankruptcy "  in  that 
country.  The  issue  of  his  policy  was  the  deliver- 
ance, in  1814,  of  all  Italy  to  Murat,  who,  after 
much  vacillation,  had  decided  to  join  the  coalition 
against  the  Emperor.  Fouche  now  hastened  to 
Paris  in  order,  if  I  may  so  speak,  to  be  in  at 
the  death.  But  he  was  too  late.  He  arrived 
there  on  8th  April ;  on  31st  March  the  city  had 
capitulated.  On  ist  April,  the  Senate,  under 
the  influence    of    Talleyrand,    had    appointed    a 


IV]  FOUCHE  IN  THE  HUNDRED  DAYS  145 

provisional  Government  with  that  statesman  at  its 
head ;  and  in  it  no  place  had  been  found  for 
Fouche.  Nor  in  spite  of  all  his  incessant  in- 
trigues, did  he  succeed  in  finding  one.  He  retired 
to  his  chateau  of  Ferrieres,  devoting  himself  to 
his  affairs  and  to  the  care  of  his  children,  now 
motherless,  for  the  Duchess  of  Otranto  had  died 
in  1812.  He  consoled  himself  for  his  ill-success 
with  the  Bourbons  by  the  prediction  that  the 
Restoration  would  not  last  six  months. 


IX 

When  Napoleon  returned  from  Elba  on  the  ist 
of  March,  1815,  Fouche  saw  his  opportunity  to  re- 
gain office  and  power.  The  Bourbons,  now  fully 
perceiving  his  importance,  sought  to  secure  him  by 
offering  him  a  place  among  the  King's  Ministers. 
But  it  was  too  late.  He  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  them. 
He  was  not  the  man  to  associate  himself  with  a 
falling  cause.  Then  they  endeavoured  to  arrest 
him,  but  he  managed  to  escape  by  jumping  out  of  a 
window  and  climbing  over  a  wall,  with  an  agility 
surprising  in  a  man  of  his  age.  Napoleon  returned 
to  the  Tuileries,  and,  with  many  misgivings,  made 
Fouche  again  Minister  of  Police — it  was  the  fourth 
time  he  was  appointed  to  that  ofQce.  He  held  it 
during  the  Hundred  Days.  The  Emperor  utterly 
distrusted  him,  and  with  reason  ;  and  his  distrust 
found  vent,  from  time  to  time,  in  bitter  invectives. 

L 


146  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 


"  Duke  of  Otranto,"  he  is  reported  to  have  said, 
"  you  are  betraying  me.  I  have  proof  of  it.  I 
ought  to  have  you  shot ;  and  every  one  would 
applaud  such  an  act  of  justice.  You  will  ask 
perhaps,  why  I  do  not.  It  is  because  I  despise  you 
too  much."  He  ought  to  have  said,  "  Because 
I  have  too  great  need  of  you." 

Then  came  Waterloo.  And  now  Fouche,  by 
an  utterly  unscrupulous  exercise  of  his  supreme 
gift  of  intrigue,  made  himself  master  of  the  situa- 
tion in  Paris.  It  was  to  him  that  the  fallen 
Emperor  entrusted  the  Act  of  Abdication,  which 
he,  more  than  any  one  else,  had  contributed  to 
bring  about.  It  was  he  who  presented  the  Act 
to  the  Chamber,  and  caused  the  nomination  of  a 
Commission  of  Five.  It  was  he  who,  by  adroit 
manoeuvring,  procured  his  own  election  as  Presi- 
dent of  the  Commission.  It  was  he  who,  magni- 
fying the  office  which  he  had  thus  obtained, 
appeared  as  Chief  of  the  State,  deciding  all  grave 
questions  by  his  sole  authority.  It  was  he  who, 
although  his  four  colleagues  detested  the  Bourbons, 
negotiated  the  Capitulation — in  the  Chamber  he 
called  it  a  Convention — which  effected  their  re- 
storation. He  managed  to  convince  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  that  it  was  only  under  his  protection 
that  Louis  XVIII.  could  peacefully  enter  Paris. 
His  own  reward  was  his  nomination  as  Secretary 
of  State  and  Minister-General  of  Police  to  the 
Most  Christian  King.  Beugnot  tells  us  that 
Louis  XVII L,  when  signing  the  ordinance  which 


IV]     AN  EIGHTH  OATH  OF  FIDELITY     147 

made  the  appointment,  wiped  away  a  tear,  mur- 
muring, "  Unhappy  brother,  if  you  see  me,  you 
have    pardoned    me " — a    statement    which,    as 
M.  Madehn  justly  remarks,  no  one  could  gainsay. 
Fouche  now  took  the  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  new 
regime — it  was  the  eighth  of  the  kind  by  which 
he  had  bound  himself  ;    and    Chateaubriand,  in 
stinging  phrase,   describes  how,   with  Talleyrand 
leaning  on  his  arm,   he  passed  into  the   King's 
cabinet — "  vice  supported  by  crime  " — and  depicts 
the  trusty  regicide,  on  his  knees,  putting  the  hands 
which    had    contributed    to    the    decapitation    of 
Louis  XVI.,  between  the  hands  of  the  brother  of 
the  royal  martyr,  the  apostate  Bishop  going  bail 
for  the  oath.     To  many  of  the  men  of  the  Revo- 
lution  the  inclusion   of  Fouche   in   the   Ministry 
must  have  been  grateful   and  comforting,   as   a 
pledge  of  their  own  security.     If  this   old    Con- 
ventional, this  deeply-pledged  regicide,  this  assassin 
of  ten  thousand  royalists,   was  admitted  to  the 
royal  favour,  who  need  despair  ?     Certainly  not 
Talleyrand,  who,  by  the  side  of  Fouche,  felt  him- 
self a  saint.     For  the  rest,  it  must  be  added  that 
all  his  plans  and  combinations  regarding  the  second 
Restoration  succeeded.      Louis  XVIII.  re-entered 
Paris  on  the  8th  of  July,  1815,  and  took  possession 
of  the  Tuileries.     A  crowd  of  notables  assembled 
there    to    pay    their    respects    to    the    Sovereign. 
Among    them     was    Fouche — perhaps,    notwith- 
standing his  sang-froid,  a  little  ill  at  ease.     The 
door  of  the  King's  cabinet  opened  ;    the  Count 


148  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

d'Artois  approached  him,  and  taking  his  hand 
cordially  pressed  it  with  exuberant  thanks,  sajdng, 
"  I'entree  du  roi  a  ete  admirable  ;  et  nous  vous 
en  avons  toute  I'obligation/'  Then,  the  rest  of 
the  assembly  having  been  dismissed,  the  King  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  see  the  Duke  of  Otranto  pri- 
vately, and  had  a  long  conversation  with  him. 

Fouche,  naturally  enough,  left  the  Tuileries 
entirely  satisfied  with  himself  and  with  his  sixth 
political  master-stroke.  But  the  work  before  him 
as  Minister  of  the  Most  Christian  King  was  ex- 
tremely difficult.  He  assured  his  old  associates 
that  he  had  accepted  the  portfolio  only  out  of 
devotion  to  the  interests  of  the  Revolution,  which 
doubtless  was  true,  in  a  sense  ;  for  with  those 
interests  his  own  were  bound  up.  He  desired  to 
pursue  a  policy  of  moderation ;  to  adopt,  in  Burke's 
phrase,  "  healing  measures."  Unquestionably  that 
would  have  been  the  wisest  course  both  for  the 
country  and  for  the  Bourbons ;  but  with  such  a 
policy,  with  such  measures,  the  triumphant  loyalists 
had  no  sympathy.  The  tide  of  reaction  was  flowing 
strongly ;  and  Fouche,  with  all  his  ability,  could 
not  dictate  to  it  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go,  and  no 
farther."  The  regicide,  the  Conventional,  the  ex- 
Jacobin,  the  Minister  of  Napoleon,  was  obliged 
to  proscribe,  almost  at  hazard,  no  small  number 
of  his  former  colleagues,  revolutionary  and  Bona- 
partist ;  the  Royal  Ordinance  by  which  this  was 
effected  bears  his  counter-signature.  It  is  true 
that  he  did  his  best  to  enable  some  of  them  to 


IV]  THE   ULTRA   LOYALISTS  149 

escape  ;  but  his  pity,  if  pity  it  can  be  called,  was 
largely  flavoured  with  contempt.  "  Ou  veux-tu 
que  j'aille,  traitre  ?  "  Carnot  is  said  to  have  asked 
him,  the  reply  being,  *'  Ou  tu  voudras,  imbecile." 
For  the  rest,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  Fouchc,  in 
his  circulars  to  the  prefects  and  in  other  official 
documents,  spoke  the  language  of  an  enlightened 
statesman  as  to  the  policy  required  by  France. 

This  policy  had,  for  a  time,  the  support  of  the 
King.  M.  Madelin  says,  *'  Fouche's  firmness  with- 
out violence,  his  sang-froid,  the  governmental  tact 
which  never  left  him,  his  perfect  knowledge  of 
pubHc  affairs,  of  the  men  about  him,  of  the  French 
character,  astonished  and  reassured  the  revenants 
from  Coblenz  and  Hartwell,  ignorant  of  the  things 
of  their  epoch  and  of  their  country,  of  the  new 
institutions,  of  the  new  traditions."  It  is  cer- 
tain that,  in  the  months  of  July  and  August, 
1815,  both  Louis  XVIII.  and  the  Comte  d'Artois 
had  confidence  in  him.  It  is  certain  that  he  had 
full  confidence  in  himself.  He  despised  "  the 
ultra-loyalists  " — this  was  the  name  he  invented 
for  them — as  utterly  destitute  of  political  sense, 
as  having  learnt  nothing  and  forgotten  nothing  ; 
and  he  was  right.  He  was  wrong  in  under- 
estimating them,  for  they  represented,  stupidly 
enough,  moral  forces  ;  the  might  of  such  forces, 
indeed,  he  did  not  understand.  But  just  at  this 
period  his  mind  was  occupied  with  his  second 
marriage.  He  was  now  fifty-six,  and  appears  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  to  have  experienced  the 


150  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

tender  passion/  for  his  laideron  of  a  first  wife, 
whatever  her  merits,  can  hardly  have  inspired  it. 
The  second  Duchess  of  Otranto  was  Mile  Gabrielle 
de  Castellane,  a  daughter  of  one  of  the  most  ancient 
and  honourable  houses  of  Provence.  She  was 
young — twenty  -  six — beautiful  and  charmingly 
clever  ;  and  she  fell  under  the  spell  which  Fouche, 
notwithstanding  his  unprepossessing  exterior,  un- 
questionably exercised  over  women. ^  She  was  for 
the  rest  of  his  life  his  faithful  and  devoted  com- 
panion. The  wedding  was  celebrated  with  much 
pomp,  the  King  himself — it  was  held  a  great 
honour — signing  the  marriage  contract. 


X 

This  took  place  on  the  ist  of  August.  Ten  days 
afterwards  Fouche  was  elected  to  the  new  Chamber 
for  three  constituencies.  He  was  now  at  the  apogee 
of  his  career.  And  what  a  career,  if  we  look  back 
on  it !  A  devout  Oratorian,  a  violent  apostle  of 
Atheism,  a  bitter  persecutor  of  those  whose  faith 
he  had  professed  and  shared,  a  profaner  of  churches 

1  "  Mile  de  Castellane  "  (writes  the  Baron  Despatys),  "  I'avait 
seduit  par  sa  grace,  son  charme  et  sa  distinction  ;  elle  etait 
pauvre  mais  jolie,  remplie  d'esprit,  d'une  grande  vertu,  estimee 
et  adul6e  de  tous  ceux  qui  I'approchaient  "  [Un  Ami  de  Fouche, 
p.  426).  And  ho  observes,  quite  justly,  regarding  some  malicious 
reports  spread  concerning  her  in  1818  (as  to  which  see  MadeHn,  ii. 
519),  "  ce  ne  furcnt-la  que  dcs  bruits  sans  fondement." — Ibid.,  p.  12. 

2  M.  Bardoux  remarks  {Madame  de  Ciistinc,  p.  255),  "  II 
6tait  fort  6pris  do  sa  beaute,  et  ellc  fort  eprise  de  son  esprit." 


IV]  THE  SWORD  FALLS  151 

and  steeped  in  all  kinds  of  sacrilege,  a  missionary 
of  Communism,  a  murderer  not  only  of  his 
Sovereign  but  of  thousands  of  guiltless  people,  a 
multi-millionaire  by  means  of  secret  speculations 
and  scarcely  avowable  profits,  the  creature  of 
Barras  and  Sieyes,  one  of  whom  he  betrayed  on 
the  eve  and  the  other  on  the  morrow  of  Brumaire, 
a  Napoleonic  Minister  and  Duke  and  a  traitor  to 
the  Emperor  ;  and  now  Secretary  of  State  to  the 
Most  Christian  King,  the  hope,  the  great  resource 
of  capitalists,  the  friend  of  dignified  ecclesiastics, 
the  favoured  guest  at  aristocratic  houses,  and  the 
husband  of  a  lady  of  great  personal  charms  be- 
longing to  one  of  the  noblest  of  them.  Apostate, 
regicide,  homicide,  traitor,  he  might  well  have 
questioned  the  existence  of  justice  in  the  world's 
affairs ;  he  might  well  have  regarded  himself  as 
an  exception  to  the  rule  that  retribution,  however 
halting  her  foot,  does  overtake  crime.  But  at 
last  the  sword  suspended  for  so  long  over  his 
impious  neck,  and  ever  dreaded  by  him,  was  about 
to  fall.  The  elections  of  August,  1815,  which  had 
returned  him  for  three  constituencies,  had  returned 
also  a  vast  majority  of  ultra-loyalists  who  were 
bent  upon  his  overthrow.^    The  Chamber  was  too 

^  Oddly  enough,  this  result  was  directly  due  to  a  want  of  pre- 
vision curious  in  so  cautious  a  man.  French  elections  were  largely 
determined  then,  as  they  are  now,  by  the  wire-pulling  of  the 
party  in  power.  It  is  not  open  to  doubt  that  Fouche,  if  he  had 
used  the  means  at  his  command  "  pour  faire  la  Chambre,"  as  the 
phrase  is,  might  have  secured  the  return  of  a  very  different 
assembly.     But  he  did  not  use  them.     Why  ?     "  Cherchez-moi 


152  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

violent  in  its  hatred  and  its  fanaticism  to  tolerate 
a  regicide  Minister ;  and  two  of  Fouche's  colleagues, 
Talleyrand  and  Pasquier,  who,  though  not  regi- 
cides, were  regarded  by  the  ultras  as  little  less 
abominable,  were  only  too  glad  to  make  him  a 
scapegoat.  He  defended  himself  with  his  accus- 
tomed energy  and  astuteness,  but  without  success. 
The  Duke  of  Wellington  ^  interposed  in  vain  on 
his  behalf  with  Louis  XVIII.  The  most  influential 
members  of  the  Chamber  protested  against  the 
presence  on  the  ministerial  bench  of  "  this  wretch 
loaded  with  crime  and  shame."  A  more  powerful 
adversary  still  was  Louis  XVI.'s  daughter,  the 
Duchess  of  Angouleme — "  the  only  man  of  her 
family,"  Napoleon  called  her — who  emphatically 
declared  that  she  would  not  receive  this  murderer 
of  her  father,  notwithstanding  that  he  was  a 
Minister  of  the  King.     Louis  XVI 1 1.,  in  spite  of 

la  femme."  He  was  enamoured  of  a  singularly  attractive  young 
lady  and  was  occupied  with  the  arrangements  for  his  approaching 
marriage  with  her.  But  Talleyrand,  the  head  of  the  INIinistry  ? 
He  also  left  the  elections  uncontrolled,  and  for  a  similar  reason. 
So  Fouche  transfers  the  blame  to  "  I'incurie  nonchalante  du 
president  du  conseil.  qui  [se  ber^ait  d'illusions  sensuelles  " 
{Memoires,  ii.  383),  the  object  of  these  amorous  imaginings  being 
his  niece  by  marriage,  the  Duchesse  de  Dino,  whose  "  relations 
with  him,"  to  use  a  French  phrase,  date  from  that  time. 

^  Fouch6  tells  us  in  his  Memoires  that  the  origin  of  the  Duke's 
interest  in  him  was  "  dans  I'empressemcnt  que  je  mis,  lors  de  mon 
second  ministere,  a  faire  cesser  la  captivity  d'un  membre  de  cette 
famille  honorable  detenu  en  France  par  suite  des  mesures 
rigoureuses  qu'avait  ordonnees  Napoleon"  {MSmoires,  ii.  324). 
But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Duke,  apart  from  this, 
entertained  the  highest  estimate  of  Fouch6's  political  sagacity. 


IV]  CIVILLY  DEAD  153 

vast  obligations  to  Fouche,  bowed  before  the  storm. 
Talleyrand,  the  President  of  the  Council,  resolved 
on  sacrificing  him  ;  and  the  rest  of  the  Ministry 
cheerfully  consented.  On  the  15th  of  September, 
a  Roj^al  Ordinance  was  published  appointing  him 
ambassador  at  Dresden.  It  was  an  expatriation. 
The  law  of  amnesty  (oddly  so  called),  passed 
shortly  afterwards,  changed  it  into  exile.  Fouche 
ceased  to  be  ambassador.  He  was  civilly  dead. 
The  catastrophe  was  as  sudden  as  it  was  complete. 
One  thinks  of  the  words  of  the  Psalmist  :  "I  my- 
self also  have  seen  the  ungodly  in  great  power 
and  flourishing  like  a  green  bay-tree  :  I  went  by, 
and  lo,  he  was  gone  :  I  sought  him,  but  his  place 
could  nowhere  be  found." 

No  :  his  place  could  nowhere  be  found.  For 
the  remaining  five  years  of  his  life,  Fouche  was  a 
wanderer  in  the  Austrian  Empire,  occupied  in 
futile  schemes  for  returning  to  France  and  to  public 
life  there.  The  devotion  of  his  young  and  charming 
wife,  his  daily  intercourse  with  his  children,  whom 
he  tenderly  loved — he  was  ever  a  man  of  strong 
family  affections — the  various  resources  which  his 
immense  fortune  placed  at  his  command,  were 
unable  adequately  to  console  him.  He  was  tor- 
mented by  what  M.  Madelin  calls  "  le  pruruit  de 
pouvoir."  In  1820  he  died  at  Trieste,  where 
for  some  time  he  had  resided,  having  received, 
it  is  said,  the  last  sacraments  of  the  Catholic 
Church. 

I  have  called  Fouche  a  typical  Jacobin,  and  I 


154  A   TYPICAL  JACOBIN  [ch. 

think  with  reason.  *'  Parvenir "  is  the  word 
which  really  represents  the  supreme  aspiration  of 
those  sectaries.  Is  it  credible  that  any  of  them, 
with  the  possible  exception  of  here  and  there  a 
crack-brain  enthusiast,  such  as  Anacharsis  Clootz, 
really  believed  in  the  claptrap  shibboleths — Liberty, 
Equality,  Fraternity,  Reason,  the  Holy  Law  of 
Nature,  and  the  like — upon  which  they  so  success- 
fully traded  ?  Danton,  in  a  moment  of  candour, 
revealed  their  secret :  "  Nous  etions  dessous,  nous 
sommes  dessus,  et  voila  toute  la  Revolution." 
Parvenir — to  arrive — was  their  master  desire,  and 
the  cleverer  of  them  whose  vile  heads  were  not  shorn 
off  in  the  struggle,  did  arrive  and  strut  on  the 
world's  stage  as  Dukes,  Princes,  Archchancellors, 
under  the  Empire.  Fouche  is  assuredly  an  ex- 
cellent type  of  them  in  his  utter  indifference  to 
anything  but  his  own  advancement.  This  passion 
of  individualism,  if  I  may  so  speak,  completely 
dominates  him,  altogether  atrophying  his  moral 
sense.  Not  naturally  cruel,  it  renders  him  quite 
callous  to  all  considerations  of  humanity ;  men 
are  "  impotent  pieces  in  the  game  he  plays." 
Not  naturally  avaricious,  he  heaps  up  riches  by 
questionable  means  to  serve  it :  for  he  knows  that 
"omnia  pulchris  parent  divitiis."  In  comparison 
with  it,  truth,  honour,  loyalty  are  to  him  as 
the  small  dust  of  the  balance.  "  Unfettered  by 
the  sense  of  crime,  to  whom  a  conscience  never 
wakes,"  we  must  say  of  this  greatest  statesman  of 
the    Revolutionary    epoch.     And    it    is    the    true 


IV]  ''THE  GIANTS  OF   1793"  155 

account   of   the    rest    of   the    canaille   who    have 
obtained  a  sort  of  apotheosis  as  **  the  giants  of 

I793-"  ' 

^  I  have  in  my  mind  that  saying  of  Royer-CoUard  :    "  The 
men  of  1793,  who  have  been  transformed  into  Titans,  were  simply 

canaille." 


CHAPTER  V 

The  Founder  of  a  New  Church 


Talleyrand  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  most 
conspicuous  figures  in  the  Revolutionary  epoch, 
and  affords,  in  some  respects,  valuable  help  for 
understanding  the  new  France.  His  career  as  a 
statesman  is  fairly  well  known.  His  doings  as  a 
Member  of  the  National  Assembly,  as  Chauvelin's 
colleague  in  London,  as  Minister  of  the  Directory, 
the  Consulate  and  the  Empire,  and  of  both  Restora- 
tions, as  Ambassador  under  Louis  XVHL  and 
Louis  Philippe,  have  been  related  by  many  his- 
torians. But  few  have  tried  to  put  before  us  an 
accurate  delineation  of  the  man.  There  have, 
indeed,  been  gossiping  books  about  him,  for  the 
most  part  of  little  value.  And  then  there  are  his 
Memoirs,  the  publication  of  which  was  so  long 
delayed,  and  the  perusal  of  which  is  so  disappoint- 
ing. Fragmentary  and  apologetic,  they  leave 
psychological  problems  untouched,  and  contain 
little  of  self-revelation  beyond  a  very  significant 
expression  of  regret  for  their  author's  action  as 

150 


[CH.  V]       TALLEYRAND'S    YOUTH  157 

the  Founder  of  the  Constitutional  Church.  But 
no  one  before  M.  de  Lacombe  has  apphed 
himself  to  the  task  of  truly  picturing  Talleyrand's 
personality.  In  the  two  volumes  ^  which  we  owe 
to  this  painstaking  and  accurate  writer,  we  are 
presented  with  many  new  facts  derived  from 
documents  previously  unpublished,  the  most  im- 
portant of  them  collected  by  the  late  Bishop  of 
Orleans,  Mgr.  Dupanloup.  It  is  not  easy  to  over- 
rate the  importance  of  M.  de  Lacombe's  work, 
carried  out,  as  it  has  been,  in  that  spirit  of  com- 
plete impartiality  upon  which  the  late  Lord  Acton 
used  so  strongly  to  insist.  "  Les  faits,  tels  que 
j'espere  les  avoir  fixes,"  he  writes,  "  ont  ils  servi  ou 
desservi  Talleyrand  ?  Je  n'en  ai  pas  eu  souci,  ne 
poursuivant  dans  I'histoire  que  la  verite."  - 


II 

And  now,  keeping  before  us  M.  de  Lacombe's 
volumes,  and  not  neglecting  other  sources  of  in- 
formation, let  us  endeavour  to  see  what  manner  of 
man  Talleyrand  really  was.  He  was  born  in  1754 
and  belonged  to  one  of  the  noblest  families  in 
France.  Shortly  after  his  birth  he  was  entrusted 
to  the  care  of  a  nurse  in  a  Paris  faubourg.  She 
seems  to  have  discharged  her  trust  with  great 

*  They  are  Talleyrand,  EvSque  d'Auiun,  published  in  1902, 
and  La  Vie  Privee  de  Talleyrand,  pubUshed  in  1910. 
2  Talleyrand,  Evique  d'Autun,  avant-propos,  p.  6. 


158  THE  FOUNDEROF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch, 

negligence,  as  the  boy,  whether  by  a  fall  from  a 
chest  of  drawers,  which  is  one  account,  or  by  an 
attack  of  ferocious  pigs,  which  is  another,  sustained 
an  injury  to  his  right  foot  which  made  him  slightly 
lame.     This  accident  determined  his  future  career. 
It  unfitted  him  for  the  profession  of  arms,  and  his 
family  decided  that  he  should  enter  the  Church. 
When  he  was  four  years  old,  his  great-grandmother, 
the   Princesse   de   Chalais,    sent   for   him   to   her 
chateau   of   Perigord,   which   he   reached   after   a 
seventeen  days'  journey  in  the  mail  coach  from 
Paris  to  Bordeaux.     Some  charming  pages  in  his 
Memoirs  are  devoted  to  the  years  which  he  passed 
with  this  venerable  lady.     We  read  how  every 
Sunday  he  accompanied  her  to  the  Parish  Church, 
where  his  little  stool  was  ready  by  the  side  of  her 
prie-dieii,  on  which  an  old  relative  of  the  family 
arranged  the  prayer-books,  solemnly  carried  in  a 
red   velvet   bag  trimmed  with   gold ;     and   how, 
after  Mass,  the  poor  and  suffering  made  their  way 
to  the  chateau,  where  the  chatelaine  distributed 
to  them  medicine  or  clothing,  the  boy  standing  by 
her  side,  his  powdered  hair  carefully  curled  and 
tied  into  a  pig-tail,  with  a  laced  cravat  and  an 
embroidered  coat,  his  little  sword  on  and  his  tiny 
hat  under  his  arm.     He  declares  that  the  recollec- 
tion of  those  early  days  was  inexpressibly  dear  to 
him.     They  came  to  an  end  in  1762,  when  he  was 
sent  to  the  College  d'Harcourt  in  Paris.     After 
remaining  there  three  years,  he  was  removed  to 
the  Seminary  of  Saint  Sulpice.    "  All  the  accounts," 


v]  TWO  DOMINANT  PASSIONS        159 

writes  M.  de  Lacombe,  "  agree  in  attributing  to 
him  a  melancholy  akin  to  misanthropy  during 
his  period  of  preparation  for  holy  orders." 
One  of  his  fellow-students,  M.  de  Bethisy,  after- 
wards Bishop  of  Uzes,  remembered  his  saying, 
**  lis  veulent  faire  de  moi  un  pretre  :  eh  bien  ! 
vous  verrez  qu'ils  en  feront  un  sujet  affreux  :  mais 
je  suis  boiteux,  cadet ;  il  n'y  a  pas  moyen  de  me 
soustraire  a  ma  destinee."  ^  He  appears,  however, 
at  this  early  period,  as  later  on,  to  have  done  all 
in  his  power  to  alleviate  the  destiny  which  he  could 
not  escape.  His  morals  are  said  to  have  been 
"  anything  but  clerical."  He  himself  tells  us,  in 
his  Memoirs,  of  his  relations,  at  that  time,  with  a 
young  and  pretty  actress  who  lodged  in  the  Rue 
Ferou,  a  few  yards  from  the  Seminary.  And  one 
of  his  fellow-students,  M.  de  Sausin,  afterwards 
Bishop  of  Blois,  writes,  "  Money  was  his  passion." 
In  fact,  the  love  of  woman  and  the  lust  of  lucre, 
of  which  he  thus  early  gave  proof,  dominated  him 
through  his  life. 

In  1773  Talleyrand  received  the  tonsure,  that 
is  to  say,  was  admitted  into  minor  orders  ;  and 
became  known  as  the  Abbe  de  Perigord.  He  was 
a  conspicuous  figure  in  the  brilliant  and  corrupt 
society  of  Paris,  this  "  abbe  pimpant  "  just  turned 
twent}^  with  his  illustrious  name  and  with  his 
social  talents.  His  face,  without  being  handsome, 
is  described  as  singularly  attractive,  from  the  triple 
expression    of    sweetness    (douceur),    impudence, 

^  Talleyrand,  Evcqiie  d'Atihm,  p.  lo. 


160  THE FOUNDEROF ANEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

and  wit.  M.  de  Lacombe  remarks,  ".  Avec  les 
ordres  sacres,  le  sous-diacre  Talleyrand  n'avait  pas 
acquit  les  vertus  de  son  etat :  il  les  montrait  de 
moins  en  moins."  ^  And  M.  Pichot  puts  it,  '*  He 
completely  over-passed  the  limits  of  tolerance, 
which  were  large  enough  in  that  age  :  no  laymen 
even,  except  perhaps  Richelieu  and  Lauzun,  had 
so  copiously  enriched  the  chronique  scandaleuse  of 
Paris."  -  In  1775  he  obtained  his  first  preferment, 
the  sinecure  Abbey  of  St.  Denis,  in  the  diocese  of 
Rheims,  which  gave  him  a  revenue  of  eighteen 
hundred  livres.^  In  1779,'*  ^^  ^-  ^^  Lacombe 
shows  from  the  archives  of  Rheims — thereby 
clearing  up  an  obscurity — he  was  ordained  priest, 
and  the  day  afterwards  he  was  nominated  Vicar- 
General  to  his  uncle,  the  Archbishop  of  that  see. 
But  Talleyrand  "  n'etait  pas  pretre  pour  rester 
pretre."  In  1780  the  clergy  of  the  province  of 
Tours,  to  whom  that  year  the  election  of  two 
Agents-General  fell,  chose  him  as  one  of  them. 
The  place  was  of  importance.  The  Agents  of  the 
clergy  were  the  representatives  of  their  order  to 
the  King  and  the  Ministers  ;   it  was  their  duty  to 

^  Talleyrand,  Eveque  d'Autun,  p.  25. 

2  Souvenirs  Intinies  de  M.  de  Talleyrand,  p.  17. 

3  M.  de  Lacombe  shows  conclusively  {Talleyrand,  Eveque 
d'Autun,  p.  22),  the  incorrectness  of  the  legend  which  represents 
him  as  having  obtained  this  preferment  in  recompense  for  a  bon 
mot  at  Madame  du  Barry's. 

•  Lady  Blcnnerhassett  is  therefore  in  error  when  in  her 
Talleyrand,  eine  Studie  (p.  19)  she  says  :  "  Talleyrand  was  already 
a  priest  when  he  assisted  at  the  Coronation  of  Louis  XVL  at 
Rheims  in  June,  1775." 


V]  MADAME  DE  BRIENNE  161 

defend  the  interests  of  the  Church  of  France. 
Talle3^rand  made  the  most  of  his  opportunities 
during  his  five  years'  tenure  of  the  office.  "  II 
avait,"  says  Mignet,  "  la  reputation  d'un  homme 
spirituel,  il  acquit  celle  d'un  homme  capable." 
It  is  somewhat  amusing  to  find  him  signing,  in 
1780,  a  clerical  petition  to  the  King  against  the 
introduction  into  France  of  the  writings  of  Voltaire, 
of  whom  he  was  assuredly  a  disciple,  and  whose 
benediction — according  to  a  story,  lacking,  indeed, 
in  confirmation — he  is  said  to  have  sought  on 
bended  knees  when  the  moribund  philosopher 
visited  Paris  in  1778. 

Talleyrand's  devotion  to  women  was  the  result 
of  temperament ;  but  he  knew  how  to  turn  it  to 
account.  In  those  daj^s  the  readiest  road  to  eccle- 
siastical preferment  was  through  the  boudoir ; 
and  Talleyrand  endeavoured  to  follow  it.  He 
stood  high  in  the  favour  of  the  Comtesse  de  Brienne, 
*'  la  superbe  Comtesse,"  Bachaumont  calls  her  ; 
and  she  had  great  influence  with  the  King  of 
Sweden,  Gustavus  III.,  who  wa.s  a. persona gratissima 
to  the  Pope,  Pius  VI.  Madame  de  Brienne 
addressed  to  the  King  a  letter,  the  text  of  which 
M.  de  Lacombe  gives,  soliciting  a  Cardinal's  hat 
for  Talleyrand,  in  whose  Memoirs  we  read  that  the 
request  would  certainly  have  been  accorded  but 
for  the  hostile  interposition  of  Marie  Antoinette. 
It  was  just  after  the  affair  of  the  diamond  necklace, 
and  Madame  de  Brienne  had  warmly  embraced 
the  side  of  Cardinal  de  Rohan,  who  was  her  cousin. 

M 


162  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

Talleyrand's  thoughts  then  turned  towards  a 
bishopric,  but  his  love  of  women  and  gambling — 
"  sa  fagon  de  vivre,"  we  are  told,  *'  etait  de  plus  en 
plus  un  deii  a  la  morale  " — stood  in  his  way  with 
the  honest  and  pious  Louis  XVI.,  and  it  was  not 
until  1788  that  he  obtained  the  See  of  Autun. 
Its  revenues  were  not  large — only  twenty-two 
thousand  livres — but  they  were  eked  out  by  the 
Abbey  of  Celles  in  the  diocese  of  Poitiers,  which 
was  worth  nine  thousand  five  hundred  livres. 
On  the  i6th  of  January,  1789,  he  was  consecrated, 
and  on  the  next  day  he  received  the  pallium,  to 
which  the  Bishops  of  Autun  had  right  through  a 
concession  of  Gregory  the  Great  in  the  year  600. 
On  the  26th  of  January  he  addressed  to  his  flock 
a  Pastoral  Letter  which  M.  de  Lacombe,  who  gives 
extracts  from  it,  well  calls  une  petite  merveille. 
Borrowing  the  words  of  St.  Paul,  he  calls  God  to 
witness  that  from  the  day  of  his  nomination  he 
has  never  ceased  to  think  of  them  :  "  Testis  est 
mihi  Deus  quod  sine  intermissione  memoriam  vestri 
facio :  oui,"  he  continues,  "  souffrez-moi  cette 
expression,  nos  tres  chers  freres  :  vous  etes  devenus 
notre  douce  et  unique  occupation."  ^  But  having 
despatched  this  cottp-de-maitre,  he  was  in  no  haste 
to  quit  Paris,  nor  did  he  in  the  least  change  his 
way  of  life  there.  His  eyes  were  ever  more  and 
more  turned  to  the  political  questions  with  which 
the  States-General,  so  soon  to  meet,  would  have 
to  deal.     He  had  a  presentiment  of  vast  impending 

^  Talleyrand^  Evajue  d' Autun,  p.  83. 


V]  AN  EPISCOPAL  CHARIOT  163 

changes,  and  thought  it  best  to  stay  in  the  capital — 
"  at  the  very  heart  of  the  furnace,"  as  M.  de 
Lacombe  expresses  it,  "  where  events  were  cast 
into  shape."  That  he  did  not  in  the  least  antici- 
pate the  sinister  future  which  was  at  hand,  we  may 
be  quite  sure.  But  whatever  the  future  might  be, 
he  was  resolved  to  take  his  place  in  it — or,  rather, 
to  find  his  advancement  in  it.  Those  few  sheep 
in  the  wilderness — for  as  such  Autun  appeared  to 
him — could  wait  for  their  pastor,  whose  first  duty 
appeared  to  him,  then,  as  always,  to  be  to  himself. 
It  was  to  the  approaching  meeting  of  the  States- 
General  that  his  clergy  owed  his  presence.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  he  might  become  their 
deputy.  And  so  he  set  out  from  his  episcopal  city 
in  a  superb  chariot,  for  which,  by  the  way,  he  seems 
not  to  have  paid.^     He  arrived  there  on  the  I2th 

^  There  are  several  versions  of  the  story.  I  find  this  in  M. 
Louis  Thomas'  volume,  L'Esprit  de  M.  de  Talleyrand  : 

"  Lorsque  il  fut  nomme  eveque  d'Autun  M.  de  Talleyrand 
commanda  un  superbe  carrosse  episcopal  qui  lui  faisait  grand 
honneur.  Mais  deja  crible  de  dettes  il  ne  le  paya  point.  Apres 
avoir  longtemps  attendu,  le  carrossier  prit  le  parti  de  se  tenir 
tous  les  jours  a  la  porte  de  I'hotel  de  Monseigneur,  le  chapeau  a 
la  main,  et  saluant  tres  bas  lorsque  I'eveque  montait  en  voiture. 
Apres  quelques  jours  M.  de  Talleyrand  intrigue  lui  demanda  : 

"  '  Et  qui  etes  vous,  mon  ami  ?  ' 

"  '  Je  suis  votre  carrossier,  Monseigneur.' 

"  '  Ah,  vous  etes  mon  carrossier.  Et  que  voulez-vous  mon 
carrossier  ?  ' 

"  '  Etre  paye,  Monseigneur.' 

"  'Ah,  vous  etes  mon  carrossier  et  vous  voulez  etre  paye. 
Vous  serez  paye,  mon  carrossier.' 

"  'Et  quand,  Monseigneur  ?  ' 

"  'Hum  ! '  murmura  I'evgque,  s'etablissant  confortablement 
dans  son  carrosse  neuf  .  .  .  '  Vous  etes  bien  curieux.'  " — p.  24. 


164  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

of  March,  1789,  and  took  personal  possession  of 
his  see  on  the  i8th  of  that  month,  amid  popular 
rejoicing,  for,  as  M.  de  Lacombe remarks,  religious 
festivals  were  still  popular  festivals  :    "  malgre  le 
travail  sourd  qui  se  faisait,  les  ames  restaient  toutes 
penetrees   de  I'ideal  chretien."     During  the  few 
weeks  which  he  spent  in  his  diocese,  he  was  assid- 
uous in  discharging  his  pastoral  duties  ;   he  visited 
and  prayed  in  the  various  churches  of  his  cathedral 
city,  and  he  might  often  be  seen  reciting  his  breviary 
in  the  garden  of  his  episcopal  palace.     Nay,  as  a 
Right  Rev,  Father  in  God,  he  bestowed  spiritual 
counsels  upon  his  clergy,  insisting,  among  other 
things,  that  they  should  give  themselves  much  to 
mental   prayer.     At   the  same  time  he   did  not 
neglect   other   and  more   material  means   of  in- 
gratiating himself  with  his  flock.     It  was  mid- 
Lent,    and   at   that   time   the   police   regulations 
compelled  compliance  with  the  laws  of  the  church 
in  respect  of  abstinence  and  fasting.     But  fish  was 
scarce  at  Autun,  and  Talleyrand  was  recognized 
as  a  public  benefactor  when  he  procured  a  supply 
by  means  of  the  mail  cart  between  Paris  and  Lyons. 
Moreover,  he  kept  open  house  at  the  Palace,  much 
to  the  satisfaction  of  his  reverend  brethren,  who 
found  his  cuisine  "  a  thing  to  thank  God  upon." 
His   labours   were  not  in  vain.     On  the  2nd   of 
April,  1789,  he  was  elected  deputy  of  the  clergy 
by  a   large   majority.      A   week    afterwards    he 
quitted   his  episcopal  residence,  never   to  return 
to  it,  and  proceeded  to  Paris. 


V]  THE  RELIGIOUS  QUESTION        165 


III 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  follow  in  detail  Talley- 
rand's career  in  the  Revolutionary  legislature. 
No  man  who  ever  lived,  we  may  be  quite  sure,  was 
less  in  sympathy  with  the  Rousseauan  ideas  which 
dominated  it.  A  thorough  Voltairian,  cold, 
sceptical,  and  elegant,  Talleyrand  was  a  grand 
seigneur  of  the  ancien  regime,  penetrated  by  the 
charm  of  that  old  society  brilliant  with  the  phos- 
phorescence of  decay.  The  declamatory  banalities 
and  the  brutal  appetites  of  the  Revolution  must 
have  disgusted  him.  But  he  recognized  in  it  an 
irresistible  torrent,  and  he  thought  it  well  to  swim 
with  the  stream,  striking  out  his  own  course,  as 
best  he  might.  M.  de  Lacombe  aptly  remarks,  "  He 
did  not  oppose  the  Revolution,  he  accepted  it."  ^ 
*'  His  cleverness  consisted  in  adapting  himself  to 
circumstances ;  and  because  he  always  obeyed 
in  good  time,  he  was  able  to  create  the  illusion  that 
he  directed  and  dominated  them."  "  Thus,  when 
it  became  evident  to  him,  in  the  debates  in  the 
Assembly  on  the  Declaration  of  Rights,  that  an 
attack  on  the  Church  of  France,  with  its  traditional 
system  of  administration,  was  sure  to  come  at 
no  distant  date,  he  urged  successfully  the  post- 
ponement of  the  religious  question  till  the  proper 
opportunity  for  legislating  upon  it  should  be  ripe. 
This  was  in  August,  1789.     Two  months  later  he 

^  Talleyrand,  Eveque  d'Autun,  p.  133. 
2  Ibid.,  p.  124. 


166  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [cH. 

judged  that  the  opportunity  was  ripe ;  and,  in  a 
memorable  speech  on  the  loth  of  that  month, 
proposed  a  measure  for  confiscating  the  property 
of  the  spiritualty,  and  thereby  destroying  their 
independence,  and  converting  them  into  hireUngs 
of  the  State.  For  the  scheme  to  remodel  the 
external  constitution  and  administrative  system 
of  the  Church,  adopted  under  the  name  of  the 
Civil  Constitution  of  the  Clergy,  was  the  logical, 
the  necessary  consequence  of  the  scheme  of 
confiscation  proposed  by  Talleyrand,  as  of  course 
he  well  knew,  and  on  the  28th  of  January,  1790, 
he  took  the  oath  to  it — the  "  Constitutional 
oath."  1 

But  let  us  turn  from  the  politician  to  the  man. 
I  do  not  know  where  to  go  for  a  truer  picture  of 
him  at  the  time  with  which  we  are  at  the  present 
moment  concerned,  than  to  the  notices  scattered 
up  and  down  Gouverneur  Morris's  Diary."  This 
shrewd  observer,  as  he  stumped,  with  his  wooden 


^  Madame  de  Remusat  in  her  Memoircs  gives  a  lengthy  account 
of  the  reason  assigned  to  her  by  Talleyrand  for  his  proceedings  at 
this  period.  It  concludes  with  the  following  brief  Apologia  pro 
vita  sua.  "  Vouz  comprenez  que  dans  Ic  position  ou  j'etais,  je 
dus  accueillir  cette  Revolution  avec  empressement.  Elle 
attaquait  des  principes  et  des  usages  dont  je  avais  ete  victime  : 
elle  me  paraissait  faite  pour  rompre  mes  chaines  :  elle  plaisait 
a  mon  esprit.  J'embrassais  vivement  sa  cause  :  et  depuis  les 
6v6nements  ont  dispose  de  moi." — Vol.  iii.  p.  328.  That  "  les 
evenements  ont  dispos6  de  moi  "  is  delicious. 

2  The  Diary  and  Letters  of  Gouverneur  Morris,  Minister  of  the 
United  States  to  France.  Edited  by  Anne  Gary  Morris,  London, 
1899. 


V]  MADAME  DE  FLAHAUT  167 

leg/  from  boudoir  to  boudoir,  brought  an  eye  for 
all  he  saw,  and  has  chronicled  it  in  clear  and  simple 
outline.  His  first  impressions  of  Talleyrand  were 
unfavourable  :  "a  sly,  cunning,  ambitious,  and 
malicious  man,"  he  wrote.  A  little  later  on  in  his 
Diary  he  credits  the  Bishop — Talleyrand  is  usually 
so  described  by  him — with  "  sarcastic  and  subtle 
wit,  joined  with  immense  tact."  Further  ac- 
quaintance seems  to  have  led  to  a  sort  of  friendship 
between  them.  They  saw  a  great  deal  of  one 
another,  for  Morris  was  a  constant  caller  on 
Madame  de  Flahaut,  the  Bishop's  maitresse  en 
titre,  a  lady  whom  he  describes  as  endowed  with 
"  youth,  beauty,  and  every  loveliness." 

"  Hers,"  we  read,  "  had  been  a  strange  life.  Married  at 
fifteen  to  the  Comte  de  Flahaut,  then  quite  fifty,  who  had 
denied  himself  no  excess  of  dissipation,  she  found  herself  coldly 
neglected.  The  Abbe  Perigord,  who  had  performed  the 
marriage  ceremony  for  her,  became  her  friend  and  companion 
and  instructor — for  to  him  she  owed  the  opening  and  training 
of  her  intellect — and  he  also  became  the  father  of  her  only 
child,  who  was  named  Charles,  after  the  Abbe."  - 

This  Charles,  it  may  be  mentioned,  was  the 
Comte  de  Flahaut,  famed  as  the  lover  of  Queen 

^  The  wooden  leg  stood  \\m\  in  good  stead  on  one  occasion. 
Pursued  by  the  scoundreldom  of  Paris  as  an  aristocrat,  because 
he  was  driving  in  a  carriage,  he  thrust  out  his  wooden  leg,  exclaim- 
ing, "  An  aristocrat  !  Yes,  truly,  who  lost  his  leg  in  the  cause 
of  American  liberty,"  and  escaped  unhurt,  nay,  applauded.  In 
fact,  he  had  lost  the  leg  by  being  thrown  out  of  a  gig. 

2  Gouverneur  Morris's  Diary,  vol.  i.  p.  42.  I  should  note  that 
these  are  the  words  not  of  Morris  himself,  but  of  his  editor.  I  do 
not  know  whence  she  derived  her  details. 


168  THE FOUNDEROF  ANEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

Hortense  of  Holland,  and  the  father  by  her  of 
Napoleon  III.'s  half-brother,  the  Due  de  Morny, 
who  would,  upon  occasion,  boast  of  his  descent 
from  Talleyrand.  In  a  subsequent  page  of  Morris's 
Diary  we  have  an  account  of  a  New  Year's  Day 
visit  paid  by  him  to  Madame  de  Flahaut.  After 
narrating  his  conversation  with  the  Bishop  of 
Autun,  who  was  waiting  for  him,  he  adds  : 

"  Madame  being  ill,  I  find  her  with  her  feet  in  warm 
water,  and  when  she  is  about  to  take  them  out,  one  of  her 
women  being  employed  in  that  operation,  the  Bishop  employs 
himself  in  warming  the  bed  with  a  warming  pan,  and  I  look 
on.  It  is  curious  to  see  a  reverend  Father  of  the  Church 
engaged  in  that  pious  operation."  ^ 

But  we  must  not  suppose  that  Madame  de 
Flahaut  was  Talleyrand's  only  honne  amie  at  this 
period.  His  affections  were  erratic  ;  and  although 
Madame  de  Flahaut  retained  them  for  some  years, 
she  by  no  means  monopolized  them.  He  was 
much  devoted  to  Madame  de  Stael  also  ;  but, 
indeed,  he  appears,  to  borrow  a  phrase  from  one  of 
Swift's  least  decorous  poems,  to  have  been  "  an 
universal  lover."  There  was  about  him  a  curious 
magnetic  power  which  was  felt  strongly  even  by 
such  a  man  as  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  And  it 
was  easy  for  him,  down  to  the  close  of  his  life,  to 

^  Gouvemeur  Morris's  Diary,  vol.  i.  p.  264.  At  p.  226  we  read 
of  a  visit  paid  by  Morris  to  Madame  de  Corny.  "  Madame  being 
ill,  goes  into  the  bath,  and  when  placed  there  sends  for  me.  It 
is  a  strange  place  to  receive  a  visit,  but  there  is  milk  mixed  with 
the  water,  making  it  opaque.  She  tells  me  it  is  usual  to  receive 
in  the  bath," 


V]  ''AN   UNIVERSAL  LOVER''  169 

ingratiate  himself  with  women.  They  quickly 
caught  what  Madame  de  Remusat  quaintly  calls 
**  the  malady  of  falling  in  love  with  him."  One 
of  his  early  portraits  depicts  him  with  wavy  hair, 
slightly  powdered,  and  tied  in  a  pigtail  with  a 
black  ribbon  :  the  eyes  look  forth  from  beneath 
the  brows  with  a  cheerful  assurance  :  a  slightly 
turned-up  nose,  and  a  prominent  chin,  give  the 
face  an  air  of  audacity  and  calm  energy,  recalling 
B3^ron's  line : 

"  And  while  I  please  to  stare,  you'll  please  to  stay." 

"  Peu  d'hommes  ont  ete  aussi  passionnes  pour 
les  femmes,"  ^  M.  Pichot  tells  us.  We  may  add 
that  few  men  have  inspired  deeper  and  more  lasting 
passions  in  women.  How  touching  is  that  story 
of  his  visiting,  on  her  death-bed,  Madame  de 
Brienne,  after  long  years  of  estrangement.  "  II 
faut  que  la  politique  attende,"  he  writes  in  his 
Memoirs.  She  had  refused  all  intercourse  with 
him  when  he  threw  himself  into  the  Revolutionary 
movement,  when  he  became  the  Minister  of 
Napoleon.  But  in  1815  he  was  the  Ambassador 
of  his  lawful  Sovereign,  and  she  consented  to  see 
him.  The  end  was  close  at  hand  when  he  arrived. 
She  murmured,  "  Ah,  M.  de  Perigord,  you  alone 
can  tell  how  much  I  loved  you  !  "  and  put  out  her 
hand.  He  kissed  it,  overcome  with  emotion,  and 
held  it  till  it  hung  powerless  and  dead  in  his. 

The  tide  of  revolution  rose  rapidly  in  1791,  and 

Souvenirs  Intimes,  p.  119. 


170  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

Paris,  robbed  of  all  its  social  charm,  was  becom- 
ing an  abomination  of  desolation.  The  fiercest 
passions  were  unchained,  and  Talleyrand  knew  that 
his  life  was  in  jeopardy.  He  judged  that  the  only 
safe  course  was  to  bow  before  them.  It  was 
deemed  necessary  to  constitute  formally  the  new 
schismatic  Church  by  consecrating  a  bishop, 
and  Talleyrand  was  requested  to  put  this  finishing 
touch  to  the  religious  legislation  which  he  had 
initiated.  He  dared  not  refuse,  but  he  consented 
with  fear  and  trembling.  On  the  23rd  of  February, 
1791,  he  made  his  will,  leaving  to  Madame  de 
Flahaut  all  that  he  possessed.  She  passed  the 
night  in  tears.  He  in  hiding.  On  the  morrow  he 
consecrated,  according  to  the  schismatic  forms, 
two  apostate  priests,  one  to  the  see  of  Finistere 
(Ouimper),  the  other  to  the  see  of  the  Aisne 
(Soissons),  and  thus  vindicated  his  title  as  Founder 
of  the  Constitutional  Church.  It  was  an  act  which, 
if  we  may  judge  from  his  language  on  the  verge  of 
the  grave,  lay  heavy  on  what  remained  to  him  of 
conscience.  He  resigned  his  bishopric  and  entirely 
severed  himself  from  the  sect  to  which  he  had  thus 
given  some  semblance  of  ecclesiastical  authority, 
leaving  to  Gobel  the  task  of  completing  its  organiza- 
tion. He  habitually  expressed  contempt  for  it  1 
and  its  prelacy,  and  for  the  rest  of  his  life  divested 
himself  of  his  episcopal  and  sacerdotal  attributes. 
Moreover,    he    was    active    in    encouraging    and 

1  According  to  Cardinal  Maury  he  accounted   the  constitu- 
tional clergy,  "  un  tas  de  brigands  d^shonorcs." 


V]  TALLEYRAND  IN  LONDON         171 

assisting  Bonaparte   to   re-establish  the  CathoUc 
rehgion  in  France.^ 


IV 

Early  in  the  next  year  he  was  sent  on  a  mission 
to  London,  really  as  Ambassador,  though  not 
nominally,^  the  idiotic  self-denying  ordinance  with 
which  the  Constitutional  Assembly  had  finished 
its  existence,  having  prohibited  its  members  from 
taking  office  for  two  years  after  its  dissolution. 
He  was  received  with  frigid  politeness  by  George 
III.  The  Queen — "  good  Queen  Charlotte,"  as  I 
remember  my  grandmother  used  to  call  her — 
turned  her  back  on  him,  whereupon  Talleyrand  is 
stated  to  have  remarked  to  M.  de  Biron,  who  was 
with  him,  '*  Elle  a  bien  fait  car  Sa  Majeste  est  fort 
laide."  London  society  followed  the  Queen's 
example.^    In  July,  1792,  he  obtained  a  fortnight's 

^  Cardinal  Consalvi  says,  "  II  fut  le  seul  a  assister  Bonaparte 
et  a  soutenir  de  tout  son  pouvoir  les  affaires  de  la  religion." 
— Lacombe,  La  Vie  Privee,  p.  165. 

2  Carlyle  writes,  "  Ambassador,  in  spite  of  the  self-denying 
ordinance,  young  Marquis  Chauvelin  going  as  Ambassador's 
cloak." — French  Revolution,  vol.  ii.  p.  42. 

3  Morris  writes,  "  His  reception  was  bad  for  three  reasons  : 
First,  that  the  Court  look  with  horror  and  apprehension  at  the 
scenes  acting  in  France,  of  which  they  consider  him  a  prime 
mover.  Secondly,  that  his  reputation  is  offensive  to  persons  who 
pique  themselves  on  decency  of  manners  and  deportment ;  and, 
lastly,  because  he  was  so  imprudent  when  the  time  arrived  as 
to  propagate  the  idea  that  he  should  corrupt  the  members  of 
administration," — Vol.  i.  p.  519. 


172  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

leave  of  absence  and  returned  to  Paris.  He  found 
that  he  had  put  himself  into  a  den  of  wild  beasts, 
and  his  earnest  desire  was  to  get  away  from  them 
as  quickly  as  might  be.  They  had  already  tasted 
blood  ;  and  some  of  them,  at  all  events,  were 
thirsting  for  his.  Throughout  the  whole  of  his 
long  career  he  displayed  most  wonderfully  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation.  "  Ce  singe,"  Duke 
Dalberg  observed  of  him,  "  ne  risquerait  pas  de 
bruler  le  bout  de  sa  patte  lors  meme  que  les  marrons 
seraient  pour  lui  tout  seul."  But  the  question  here 
was  not  one  of  getting  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire. 
It  was  of  escaping  the  murderous  fury  of  a  mob, 
drunk  with  massacre  and  pillage,  which  was  con- 
verting Paris  into  a  huge  shambles.  "  Skin  for 
skin  :  all  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  his  life." 
Talleyrand  paid  a  heavy  price  for  his.  A  circular 
to  the  Powers,  extenuating  and  defending  the 
crimes  which  had  placed  the  Provisional  Executive 
in  authority,  was  urgently  wanted.  Talle5Tand, 
of  all  men,  was  the  one  to  draw  it  up.  At  the 
request  of  Danton,  who  was  the  real  head  of  the 
Government,  he  consented  to  do  so.  A  more 
disgraceful  document  was  never  composed  by  any 
human  being.  It  is  even  worse  than  the  apology 
devised  by  him  twelve  years  afterwards  for  the 
murder  of   the  Due  d'Enghien.^     It  exhibits  the 

1  It  is  noteworthy,  as  revelatory  of  the  man,  that  when  asked 
why  he  did  not  resign  rather  than  undertake  this  odious  task, 
he  rephed,  "  Si  comme  vous  le  ditcs,  Bonaparte  s'est  rendu  coupable 
d'un  crime,  ce  n'est  pas  une  raison  que  je  me  rende  coupable 
d'une  fautc." 


V]         A   DISGRACEFUL  DOCUMENT      173 

simple  and  sentimental  Louis  XVI.  as  a  tyrant  and 
a  traitor,  the  ruffians  who  had  butchered  the  Swiss 
Guard  as  heroes,  the  cowed  and  contemptible 
Convention  as  the  saviour  and  minister  of  peace. 
In  return  for  prostituting  his  intellect  in  the  pro- 
duction of  this  tissue  of  shameless  lies,  Talleyrand 
got  his  passport  on  the  8th  of  September,  and  set 
out  for  London.  He  pretended  afterwards,  as  we 
shall  see,  when  the  pretence  would  serve  his  pur- 
pose, that  he  had  received  from  the  Provisional 
Executive  Council  a  diplomatic  mission  to  England. 
But  this  was  not  so.  He  wrote  to  Lord  Grenville, 
on  the  i8th  September,  that  he  had  no  kind  of 
mission.^  And  that  was  the  truth.  His  occupa- 
tion was  gone.  To  all  intents  and  purposes  he  had 
become  an  emigres-  He  took  a  house  in  Kensington 
Square,  which  the  Comtesse  de  La  Chatre  described 
as  **  une  femme  seduisante,"  ^  kept  for  him,  and 
here  he  received  various  old  friends  whom  the  tide 
of  events  had  brought  to  London.  The  popular 
horror  in  this  country  engendered  by  the  Revolu- 
tionary atrocities  was  great.  The  murder  of  Louis 
XVI.  on  the  21st  of  January,  1793,  raised  it  to 
fever  heat.  The  theatres  were  closed.  There  was 
a  general  mourning.  The  King,  when  going  out 
in  his  carriage,  was  received  with  cries  of  "  War 

*  This  letter  is  quoted  by  M.  de  Lacombe  at  p.  23  of  La  Vie 
Privee  de  Talleyrand,  and  in  the  next  page  we  find  an  extract  from 
a  letter  of  Talleyrand  to  Lebrun  containing  a  similar  statement. 

.   2  His  name  appears  in  the  Liste  Generale  des  Emigres,  published 
by  the  Revolutionary  Government  on  the  29th  August,  1793. 

3  La  Vie  Privee  de  Talleyrand,  p.  28. 


174  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NE  W  CHURCH   [ch. 

with  France !  "  The  AUens  Bill  was  passed- 
And  on  the  24th  of  January,  1794,  Talleyrand 
received  an  Order,  drawn  up  under  its  provisions, 
to  leave  the  kingdom  within  five  days.  He  betook 
himself  to  the  United  States  of  America. 

Talleyrand  remained  in  America  for  rather  more 
than  two  years.  A  most  interesting  account  of 
his  time  there  fills  forty  pages  of  M.  de  Lacombe's 
new  volume.  Our  chief  source  of  information 
regarding  him,  at  this  period,  is  afforded  by  his 
letters  to  Madame  de  Stael.  He  was  extremely 
well  received  by  the  richer  and  more  cultivated 
people  of  the  United  vStates,  although  he  is  said 
to  have  scandalized  them  by  publicly  parading  a 
negress,  whom  he  had  taken  to  himself  as  mistress.^ 
But  the  representative  of  France  in  that  country, 
the  Jacobin  Joseph  Fauchet,  prevented  him  from 
obtaining  an  audience  of  Washington,  the  President. 
Talleyrand  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  the 
political  institutions  of  the  United  States,  and  also 
of  the  means  which  it  presented  of  speedy  enrich- 
ment, and  accumulated  a  mass  of  information 
which  subsequently  supplied  him  with  the  material 
for  two  admirable  papers  read  by  him,  under  the 
Directory,  to  the  National  Institute.  But  his  gaze 
was  all  the  while  directed  to  France,  where  he  hoped 
again  to  find  a  sphere  of  activity.  On  the  loth 
of    June,    1795,    he    drew    up   a  petition  to  the 

*  See  La  Vie  Privee,  p.  104.  M.  de  Lacombc  observes,  "  Cette 
interpretation  de  la  Declaration  des  droits  de  I'liommc  ne  fut 
point,  parait-il,  du  gout  des  coucitoyena  de  Washington." 


V]  TALLEYRAND  RETURNS  175 

Convention,    requesting   permission   to  revisit  his 
country,  of  which  he  declares  himself  "  worthy  by 
his  principles  and  his  sentiments,"  and  pleading 
that  he  was  not  an  emigre,  as  he  had  left  France  on 
a  mission  entrusted  to  him  by  the  Provisional 
Government.     A  long  debate  upon  this  petition 
took  place  in  the  Convention,  it  being  strongly 
urged   in   Talleyrand's  favour   that   he   was   the 
Founder  of  the  Constitutional  Church.-^     The  issue 
was  that  on  the  8th  of  September  the  decree  of 
accusation  which  stood  against  him  was  reversed, 
and  his  name  was  struck  out  of  the  List  of  Emigres. 
It  was  largely  to   Madame  de  Stael's  energetic 
action  on  his  behalf  that  he  owed  this  rehabilita- 
tion.    He   wrote   to   thank   her   in   warm  terms, 
assuring  her,  among  other  things,  that  the  rest  of 
his  life  should  be  passed  near  her  wherever  she 
might  be.     "  Chere  amie,"  he  continues,  "  je  vous 
aime    de    toute    mon    ame."  -     In    his    Memoirs, 
however,  there  is  no  mention  of  Madame  de  Stael 
in  connection  with  this  matter.     Moreover,  with 
what  M.  de  Lacombe  euphemistically  calls  "  a  very 
strange  failure  of  memory,"  he  writes,  "  Le  decret 
de  la  Convention  qui  m'autorisait  a  rentrer  en 
France  .  .  .  avait  ete  rendu  sans  aucune  solicita- 
tion de  ma  part,  a  mon  insu."     In  July,  1796,  he 
reached  Hambourg,  where  he  found  many  friends, 
among  them  Gouverneur  Morris  and  Madame  de 

1  "  Qu'il  a  etabli  I'Eglise  ConstitutioneUe."— La  Vie  Privee^ 

p.  lOI. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  loi. 


176  THE  FOUNDER  OF  ANEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

Flahaut,  who — her  husband  had  been  guillotined — 
was  then  engaged  in  a  sentimental  intrigue,  which 
ended  in  marriage,  with  M.  de  Souza,  the  Portu- 
guese Minister.  On  the  20th  of  September  he 
reached  Paris.  There  Madame  de  Stael  continued 
to  be  his  good  angel.  He  was  almost  penniless. 
He  wrote  to  her,  "  Ma  chere  enfant,  je  n'ai  plus  que 
25  louis  ...  si  vous  ne  me  trouvez  pas  un  moyen 
de  me  creer  une  position  convenable  je  me  brulerai 
la  cervelle.  Arrangez  vous  la-dessus.  Si  vous 
m'aimez,  voyez  ce  que  vous  avez  a  faire."  ^  She 
gave  him  twenty-four  thousand  francs,  and  so  used 
her  influence  on  his  behalf  that  he  became  Minister 
of  Foreign  Affairs  under  the  Directory. 


V 

It  is  at  this  period  that  a  lady  comes  into  his 
life  who  was  strongly  and  strangely  to  influence  it 
— Madame  Grand.-  A  great  deal  of  mystery  has 
hung  over  various  details  of  her  unedifying  career. 
Some  of  it  has  been  recently  dissipated  ;  and  we 
may  learn  from  M.  de  Lacombe,  perhaps,  all  about 
her  that  we  are  likely  to  know,  and  certainly  as 
much  as  is  worth  knowing.     She  was  born  on  the 

^  Lady  Blennerhassett's  Talleyrand,  p.  i8g. 

2  Lady  Blennerhassctt  speaks  (p.  135)  of  his  being  accompanied 
by  Madame  Grand  when  he  re-entered  Paris  in  September,  1796  ; 
another  account  represents  him  as  having  made  her  acquaintance 
at  Versailles  before  the  Revolution  ;  a  third  that  he  first  met  her 
in  America  ;   but  all  three  seem  legendary. 


V]  MADA3IE  GRAND  177 

2ist  of  November,  1762,  at  Tranquebar,  a  small 
Danish  possession  in  the  East  Indies,  but  was  of 
French  origin,  her  father,  whose  name  was  Worlee, 
and  who  was  a  Chevalier  of  St.  Louis,  being  a 
functionary  of  the  King  of  France  at  Pondicherry. 
In  1777  she  was  married  at  Chandernagor  to  a 
young  civil  servant  of  the  East  India  Company, 
George  Francis  Grand,  who  took  her  with  him  to 
Calcutta.  There  Sir  Philip  Francis  saw  her  and 
fell  in  love  with  her,  whence  a  scandal  and  an  action 
for  ci4m.  con.  in  the  Supreme  Court,  which  awarded 
damages  of  fifty  thousand  rupees  to  the  injured 
husband.  This  was  in  1779.  She  lived  under  the 
protection  of  Francis  for  the  next  year,  and  then 
set  sail  for  Europe.  Where  she  landed  is  uncertain, 
but  in  1782  she  was  established  in  Paris,  spending 
money  freely.  How  did  she  get  it  ?  "  Des  hommes 
de  la  finance  s'interessaient  a  elle,"  M.  de  Lacombe 
tells  us,  and  he  mentions  some  of  them  :  their 
names,  however,  need  not  detain  us.  The  outbreak 
of  the  Revolution  found  her  still  in  Paris.  On  the 
famous  loth  of  August  the  porter  of  the  house  in 
which  she  was  established — a  Swiss — having  been 
butchered  by  the  populace  before  her  eyes,  she  fled 
precipitately  to  London,  and  there  she  is  said  to 
have  **  had  many  adventures."  But  she  hankered 
after  Paris  where,  all  the  social  barriers  having  been 
cast  down,  women  of  her  kind — a  Tallien  or  a 
Beauharnais — had  become  queens  of  fashion,  and 
in  1797  we  find  her  there  again.  It  was  then, 
according   to   Colmache's   account,   which   is   the 

N 


178  THE  FOUNDER  OF  ANEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

most  probable,  that  Talleyrand  met  her.^  Return- 
ing late  one  night  to  the  Hotel  Gallifet,  which  was 
his  official  residence  as  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs, 
he  found  her  there,  with  a  letter  from  his  friend 
Montrond.  She  had  been  waiting  for  some  time 
and  had  fallen  asleep  in  an  armchair  before  the  fire. 
She  woke  upon  his  entering  the  room,  and  dropping 
her  manteau  a  capuchon,  stood  before  him  confused 
and  blushing,  in  her  ball  dress  of  gauze  and  gold 
tissue.  She  is  described  as  tall,  and  at  that  time 
slight  and  graceful  in  person,  with  singular  ease 
and  languor  in  her  carriage  :  her  tender  blue  eyes, 
fringed  with  long  dark  lashes,  large  and  lustrous  ; 
her  hair,  abundant,  soft,  golden-brown ;  "  the 
most  wonderful  hair  in  Europe,"  ^  competent 
judges  averred.  Colmache  represents  Talleyrand 
as  confessing  that  when  he  first  saw  this  vision  of 
beauty,  blase  and  desilhisione  as  he  was,  he  felt 
himself  completely  deprived  of  his  self-possession  ; 
which  is  likely  enough,  considering  his  tempera- 
ment. There  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  fell  violently 
in  love  with  her,  and  that,  protecting  her  from  the 
persecution  of  the  police,  who  inclined  to  regard 
her  as  a  spy  or  a  conspirator,  he  installed  her  in 
the  Hotel  Gallifet.  This  was  in  the  free-and-easy 
times  of  the  Directory,  when  the  morals  of  the 
poultry-yard  prevailed  in  Paris.  There  was  then 
no  question  of  Talleyrand's  espousing  her.     Still, 

^  There  is  no  evidence  of  his  having  known  her  previously. 

^  Madame  de  Boigne,  in  her  Memoires  (vol.  i.  p.  433),  tells 
an  amusing  story — it  is,  as  she  owns,  "  un  peu  leste  " — about  this 
wonderful  hair. 


V]  TALLEYRAND'S   MARRIAGE        179 

she  thought  it  well  to  dissolve  her  former  marriage 
— a  matter  of  no  difficulty  with  the  Revolutionary 
tribunals.  On  the  7th  of  April,  1798,  she  obtained 
a  divorce  at  the  Mairie  of  the  Second  Arrondisse- 
ment  on  the  ground  that  her  husband  had  given 
no  sign  of  life  for  five  years. 

She   now    presided    over   Talleyrand's   house, 
receiving  men  of  State  and  men  of  letters,  diplo- 
matists  and   warriors.     And   this  lasted   till   the 
Consulate.     Then  Bonaparte  determined  to  cleanse, 
as  much  as  possible,  the  x\ugean  stable  which  Paris 
had  become  ;   to  make  society  there  more  decent, 
if   not   more   virtuous.     At   one   time,    when   the 
negotiations  for  the    Concordat    had    begun,   he 
thought  of  restoring  Talleyrand  to  the  Church,  of 
obtaining  a  Cardinal's  hat  for  him,  and  of  giving 
him  the  charge  of  religious  affairs.     But  the  ex- 
Bishop  did  not  fall  in  with  the  plan  ;    and  so — as 
M.  de  Lacombe  puts  it — not  having  succeeded  in 
making  him   a   Cardinal,   Bonaparte  resolved  to 
make  him  a  husband.     It  appears  that  the  wives 
of  some  ambassadors  objected — not  unreasonably — • 
to  be  received  by  Madame  Grand  at  the  Hotel 
Galhfet.     That    was    disagreeable    to    Bonaparte, 
who  peremptorily   told   the   Foreign   Minister  to 
banish  the  lady  from  his  house.     This  proceeding, 
M.  de  Lacombe  hints,  might  have  suited  Talley- 
rand.    But  it  did  not  suit  Madame  Grand,  who 
hurried  off  to  Josephine — a  great  friend  of  hers. 
Josephine    arranged    that    she    should    have    an 
interview  with  the  First  Consul,  who,  moved  by 


180  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

her  beauty — it  was  still  very  great,  though  she  was 
nearly  forty — and  softened  by  her  tears,  said, 
"  Very  well,  let  Talleyrand  marry  you  and  all  can 
be  arranged  :  but  you  must  either  bear  his  name 
or  leave  his  house."  Talleyrand  was  given  by  his 
imperious  master  twenty-four  hours  to  decide. 
He  decided  for  the  marriage. 

But  it  was  not  easy  to  carry  out  this  decision. 
In  the  first  place,  the  lady  was  married  already, 
and  the  divorce  granted  her  by  the  Maire  of  the 
Second  Arrondissement  would  not  be  acknowledged 
by  the  Catholic  Church,  which  does  not  admit 
divorce — a  point  of  some  importance  on  the  eve  of 
the  conclusion  of  the  Concordat.  That  point, 
however,  does  not  seem  to  have  received  much 
consideration.  What  was  more  present  to  the 
mind  of  Talleyrand  was  that  he  was  a  Bishop,  and 
that  notwithstanding  the  manifold  scandals  of  his 
career,  and  the  ecclesiastical  censures  which  he  had 
incurred,  the  obligation  to  celibacy  still  bound  him. 
When  negotiating  the  Concordat,  he  had  urged, 
with  much  tenacity,  that  ecclesiastics,  secularised 
in  fact,  should  become  so  in  the  eyes  of  the  Church, 
hoping,  no  doubt,  that  his  own  case  would  be 
covered  by  a  general  concession  and  absolution  of 
this  kind.  But  the  Holy  See  utterly  declined  to 
accept  the  proposal.  It  fell  back  on  the  precedent 
set  in  the  time  of  Queen  Mary  by  Julius  III., 
who,  while  extending  to  married  secular  clerics, 
subdeacons,  deacons,  and  priests,  the  indulgence 
sought,  absolutely  refused  it  to  the  regular  clergy 


V]  THE  BRIEF  OF  SECULARISATION    181 

and  to  Bishops.  Failing  in  his  first  tentative, 
Talleyrand  sought  a  particular  condescension  (con- 
descendance)  of  the  Pope  for  his  own  case  ;  and  on 
the  27th  of  May,  a  special  envoy  proceeded  to  Rome 
with  a  letter  from  the  First  Consul  requesting  a 
Brief  of  Secularisation  for  the  Foreign  Minister, 
and  quoting  in  support  of  that  request  various 
instances  in  which,  it  was  said,  the  Holy  See  had 
granted  a  like  indulgence.  This  document  caused 
much  distress  to  the  Sovereign  Pontiff.  All  motives 
of  worldly  prudence  counselled  the  concession  thus 
sought.  And  it  was  a  question  not  of  faith  or 
morals,  but  only  of  ecclesiastical  discipline.  But 
Pius  VII.  merely  inquired  what  was  his  duty. 
The  matter  was  referred  for  investigation  to  the 
Roman  canonists  and  theologians.  They  refuted, 
one  after  another,  the  instances  alleged  by  the 
French  Government  of  permission  given  to  Bishops 
to  marry.  They  showed,  conclusively,  that  in  the 
eighteen  centuries  of  the  Catholic  religion  there  was 
not  a  single  example  of  ecclesiastical  sanction  for 
episcopal  nuptials.  Pius  VII.,  of  whom  it  has  been 
truly  said,  "  He  had  the  soul  of  a  Saint  and  the 
heart  of  a  hero, ' '  did  not  hesitate.  Whatever  might 
be  the  consequences  he  would  uphold  the  discipline 
of  the  Church.  A  Brief  was  prepared  authorizing 
Talleyrand  to  retire  into  lay  communion,  to  wear 
the  secular  habit,  and  to  fill  great  offices  of  State. 
It  contained  no  word  regarding  his  marriage.  At 
the  same  time  the  Pope  addressed  to  Bonaparte  an 
autograph  letter,  explaining  that  it  was  impossible 


182  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

for  him  to  do  more.  Rome  locuta  est,  causa  finita 
est,  it  might  have  been  said.  But  the  saying 
would  have  been  premature.  Bonaparte  and 
Talleyrand  had  another  weapon  at  hand,  namely, 
fraud.  By  a  lie  similar  to  that  which  asserted  the 
sanction  by  the  Holy  See  of  the  Organic  Articles, 
the  decision  of  Rome  in  this  case  was  falsified.  A 
notice  in  the  Moniteur  announced  that  the  Papal 
Brief  restored  Talleyrand  to  the  secular  and  lay 
life.  Rome  protested  in  vain  against  this  cheat. 
No  French  journal  reproduced  the  protest.  "  La 
censure  consulaire  etait  vigilante  et  ne  laissait  rien 
passer."  On  the  loth  of  September,  1802,  Talley- 
rand and  Madame  Grand  were  wedded  at  the  Mairie 
of  the  Tenth  Arrondissement,  Josephine  and 
Bonaparte  signing  the  marriage  contract.  A 
religious  marriage  at  lipinay is  said  to  have  followed, 
but  of  this  no  evidence  is  now  forthcoming. 

Madame  de  Talleyrand,  soon  to  become  Princess 
of  Beneventum,^  had  no  qualification  for  her  new 
position  except  her  beauty.  She  was  stupid,  but 
not  so  stupid,  perhaps,  as  a  number  of  malicious 
anecdotes  allege.  Napoleon,  who  was  really  the 
author  of  her  marriage,  always  treated  her  coldly 
and  often  rudely.  It  is  said  that  when  she  appeared 
at  the  Tuileries  for  the  first  time  as  a  bride,  he 

1  In  1806  Napoleon  conferred  upon  Talleyrand  the  princi- 
pality of  Beneventum,  a  papal  fief,  which  he  had  to  resign  when 
the  Temporal  Power  was  restored  at  the  Congress  of  \Mcnna. 
In  lieu  of  it  he  received  the  Neapolitan  Duchy  of  Dino,  but  he 
never  took  his  new  title.  He  transferred  it  to  his  nephew,  Edmond, 
whose  wife  is  best  known  as  Duchesse  dc  Dino. 


V]  3IADAMEDE  TALLEYRAND  OUSTED  183 

received  her  with  the  incredible  remark,  "  J'espere 
que  la  bonne  conduite  de  la  citoyenne  Talleyrand 
fera  oublier  les  legeretes  de  Madame  Grand." 
EquaUy  incredible  is  it  that  she  had  the  wit  to 
reply,  ''  Je  ne  saurai  mieux  faire  que  de  suivre  a 
cet  egard  I'example  de  la  citoyenne  Bonaparte." 
At  St.  Helena  Napoleon  spoke  of  her  as  *'  tres  belle 
femme,  mais  sotte,  et  de  la  plus  parfaite  ignorance." 
And  the  story  goes  that  Talleyrand  explained  to 
the  Emperor  his  marriage  on  this  wise  :  "  Sire,  je 
I'ai  epousee  parceque  je  n'ai  pu  en  trouver  de  plus 
bete."  And  even  in  his  hone3^moon,  comparing 
her  with  Madame  de  Stael,  he  is  said  to  have 
observed  :  "II  faut  avoir  aime  une  femme  de  genie 
pour  savourer  le  bonheur  d'aimer  une  bete." 
When  the  Restoration  took  place,  Madame  de 
Talleyrand's  position  became  extremely  difficult. 
At  the  Court  of  Louis  XVIIL  few  looked  with 
favourable  eyes  upon  the  ex-Bishop,  whose  marriage 
was  an  inexhaustible  theme  for  sarcasm.  More- 
over, Madame  Grand  had  grown  very  stout,  very 
clumsy  (lourde),  and  of  very  uncertain  temper. 
When  Napoleon  retired  to  Elba,  she  betook  herself 
to  London.  Talleyrand  earnestly  desired  that  she 
would  stay  there,  and  asked  the  French  Ambassa- 
dor, the  Marquis  d'Osmund,  to  arrange  the  affair. 
At  Vienna,  where  Talleyrand  attended  the  Congress 
on  behalf  of  France,  the  Comtesse  Edmond  de 
Perigord — subsequently  Duchesse  de  Dino — an 
extremely  beautiful  and  brilliant  woman,  married 
to  a  nephew  of  his — kept  his  house,  and  made  it  a 


184  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

great  social  centre.  This,  Madame  de  Talleyrand 
explained  to  Madame  d' Osmund,  was  why  she  had 
not  herself  gone  to  Vienna.  '*  Je  savais  I'attitude 
de  Madame  Edmond  chez  M.  de  Talleyrand  a 
Vienne  :  je  n'ai  pas  voulu  en  etre  temoin.''  ^  And 
so  she  submitted,  not,  indeed,  to  stay  in  London, 
but  to  go  to  Pont-de-Sains,  in  the  Department  du 
Nord,  where  she  possessed  a  small  estate  which  had 
been  settled  on  her  at  her  marriage,  hoping  to 
repair  to  Brussels  for  the  winter.  But  Pont-de- 
Sains  was  not  far  from  Paris,  and  Talleyrand 
dreaded  lest  his  wife  should  bear  down  upon  him. 
Moreover  Madame  Edmond,  while  quite  willing  to 
keep  his  house  in  France,  as  she  had  done  in 
Austria,  would  not  consent  to  its  being  invaded  by 
Madame  de  Talleyrand.  M.  de  Lacombe  quotes 
a  curious  epistle  in  which  she  states  her  views  to 
her  uncle  with  a  certain  amount  of  imperiousness. 

"  I  have  thought  much,"  she  writes,  "  about  Madame  de 
Talleyrand's  letter.  It  makes  me  dread  that  some  fine  day 
she  will  suddenly  enter  your  chamber.  She  will  say  that 
she  will  stop  only  a  little  time,  but  that  she  wants  an  explana- 
tion with  you  :  and  all  in  the  hope  of  getting  some  more 
money,  .  .  .  Since  money  is  the  true  motive  of  all  her  actions, 
it  is  best  always  to  start  from  that  point  of  view  in  dealing 
with  her  ;  so  I  venture  to  give  you  a  bit  of  advice,  which,  if 
you  follow  it,  will  spare  you  a  painful  and  disagreeable  corre- 
spondence. Here  it  is.  Send  at  once  M.  Perrey  with  a  kind 
of  letter  of  credit ;  and  let  him  tell  Madame  de  Talle^Tand 
that  she  shall  not  touch  a  penny  of  the  allowance  which  you 


^  Memoires  de  Madame  de  Boigne,  vol.  ii.  p.  226.  It  was  from 
Madame  d'Osmund,  who  was  Madame  de  Boignc's  mother,  that 
she  derived  "  ces  paroles  rcmarquablcs,"  as  she  calls  them. 


V]  THE   DUG  HESSE  BE  DINO  185 

make  her  until  she  is  in  England,  and  that  if  she  leaves  that 
country,  she  will  have  nothing.  Let  M.  Perrey  go  to  Calais 
or  Ostend,  and  not  return  till  he  has  seen  her  off.  My  counsel 
is  good,  I  assure  you  :  and  you  will  be  ill-advised  not  to 
follow  it."  1 

It  was  substantially  followed.  Madame  de  Talley- 
rand was  authorized,  indeed,  provisionally,  to  live 
at  Pont-de-Sains,  but  was  given  clearly  to  under- 
stand that  if  she  set  foot  in  Paris  her  income  would 
be  stopped. 


VI 

And  now  Madame  de  Talleyrand  vanishes  from 
Talle3Tand's  life,  her  place  being  taken  by  Madame 
Edmond,  nee  Dorothee  de  Courland.  She  was  a 
daughter  of  an  illustrious  lady,  the  Duchess  of 
Courland,  and  her  marriage,  negotiated  by  Talley- 
rand, with  his  nephew,  Edmond  de  Perigord,  had 
turned  out  unhappily.  Her  mother  was  on  terms 
of  close  intimacy  with  Talleyrand  during  the  last 
years  of  the  Empire  ;  she  was.  Lady  Blennerhasset 
observes,  "  the  recipient  of  his  most  secret 
thoughts,"  as  his  letters  to  her  sufficiently  show. 
It  was  his  habit  thus  to  confide  in  the  object,  for 
the  time  being,  of  his  adoration  ;  and  he  once 
observed  that  women  had  never  betrayed  him. 
Singularly  interesting  are  the  brief  notes  - — there 
are  a  hundred  and  twenty-three  of  them — which 

^  La  Vie  Privee,  p.  211. 

2  They  are  published  in  the  volume  called  Talleyrand  Intime. 


186  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

he  addressed  to  her  during  the  Hundred  Days, 
and  which,  in  spite  of  his  injunction  to  burn  them, 
she  preserved  :  do  women  ever  burn  such  letters  ? 
These  httle  missives — petits  billets  de  matin,  their 
editor  calls  them — were  sent  to  keep  her  acquainted 
with  the  progress  of  affairs  during  that  anxious 
time,  and  are  couched  in  terms  of  extreme  tender- 
ness. *'  Mon  ange,  je  vous  aime  de  touhe  mon 
ame,"  he  assures  her  in  one ;  in  another  he  exclaims, 
"  Mon  ange,  comme  je  vous  aime  !  Vous  .  .  . 
vous  .  .  .  vous  !  "  The}^  also  exhibit  his  special 
interest  in  the  Duchess's  daughter,  Dorothee,  who 
soon  was  to  supplant  her  mother  with  him.  What 
are  we  to  make  of  this  ?  the  editor  asks.  And  he 
courteously  replies,  "  Ce  que  le  lecteur  voudra. 
Avec  un  homme  tel  que  Talleyrand  il  faut  tant  de 
defier  d'etre  dupe."  Madame  de  Boigne — grande 
dame  tournee  a  lu  commere,  M.  de  Lacombe  aptly 
terms  her — was  at  no  loss  what  to  make  of  it,  and 
declares  roundly  that  Talleyrand  fell  over  head 
and  ears  in  love  with  Madame  Edmond  as  if  he  had 
been  a  young  man  of  eighteen  ;  that  her  inclination 
for  an  Austrian  gentleman,  the  Comte  de  Clam, 
with  whom  she  repaired  to  Vienna,  caused  him  to 
lose  his  head  completely  ;  and  that,  moreover,  he 
was  persecuted  by  the  despair  of  the  Duchess  of 
Courland,  who  was  mortally  jealous  of  her 
daughter.^  This  affair  is  also  mentioned  by  a 
higher  authority,  Duke  Pasquier,  in  his  Memoirs. 
He  represents  Talleyrand,  though  past  sixty,  as 

*  Mcmoircs,  vol.  ii.  pp.  225  and  227. 


V]  GRAND  CHAMBERLAIN  187 

absorbed  in  this  passion,  and  as  having  been  physi- 
cally and  mentally  prostrated  when  he  believed 
that  the  object  of  it  had  left  him  for  some  one  else.^ 
Talleyrand  was  at  that  time  Prime  Minister  to 
Louis  XVIII.,  and  it  was  while  he  was  in  the  con- 
dition thus  described  by  his  colleague,  that  he 
indited  the  famous  despatch  which  led  to  his 
resignation.  He  had  supposed  that  monarch  could 
not  do  without  him.  He  was  in  error.  His  judg- 
ment, usuallv  so  sound,  was  off  its  balance.  Louis 
XVIII. ,  though  personally  not  entertaining  for 
him  the  intense  aversion  -  which  he  inspired  in 
most  of  the  Legitimists,  had  no  liking  for  him,  and 
thought  his  services  sufficiently  repaid  by  the  post 
of  Grand  Chamberlain  and  a  salary  of  100,000  francs. 
For  the  next  fifteen  years  he  was  out  of  office. 
Had  he  swayed  the  counsels  of  Charles  X.,  the 
Revolution  of  July  would  assuredly  not  have 
occurred — unless,  indeed,  he  had  wished  to  bring  it 
about  in  order  to  put  money  in  his  purse,  or  for 
some  other  private  and  personal  reason.^ 

^  Memoires  du  Chanceliev  Pasquier,  vol.  iii.  p.  376.  The 
Comte  d'Artois,  who  hated  Talleyrand,  nevertheless  on  one 
occasion  remarked  of  him,  perhaps  with  the  benevolence  engendered 
by  a  fellow- feeUng,  "  I  know  it  is  said  he  has  still  some  of  the 
inclinations  of  youth.  I  congratulate  him.  Gaudeant  bene  nati." 
In  fact,  Talleyrand  preserved  his  physical  vigour  to  an  unusually 
late  age. 

2  De  Maistre  expressed  accurately  their  sentiments  when  he 
remarked,  "  Better  Fouche  than  Talleyrand." 

3  On  Talleyrand's  venality  see  some  interesting  pages  headed 
"  Talleyrand's  Kaufiichlveit,"  in  the  ninth  chapter  of  Lady 
Blennerhassett's  book.  Chateaubriand's  mot,  "  Quand  il  ne 
conspire  pas  il  trafique,"  is  substantially  borne  out  by  his  career. 


188  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

During  those  fifteen  years  the  Duchesse  de 
Dino,  who  retained  to  an  advanced  age  the  singular 
charm  ^  which  had  fascinated  him,  was  his  constant 
companion.  They  were  bound  to  one  another, 
M.  de  Lacombe  observes,  by  *'  the  most  vivid,  the 
deepest  affection."  ^  She  surrounded  him  with 
Uttle  attentions  and  cares,  and  aided  him  with  her 
counsels.  It  was  to  her  business-like  prudence  that 
he  owed  the  preservation  of  a  considerable  portion 
of  his  ill-gotten  fortune  when  a  bankruptcy 
threatened  to  swallow  it  up.  On  Louis  Philippe 
becoming  King,  he  was  offered  and  accepted  the 
post  of  Ambassador  in  England,  and  the  Duchess 
presided  over  his  house  in  London.  But  his  rela- 
tions on  the  one  hand  with  the  French  Foreign 
Offiice,  and  on  the  other  with  Lord  Palmerston, 
were  not  satisfactory  to  him,  and  in  November, 
1835,  he  resigned  his  embass}^  In  his  letter  of 
resignation,  published  in  the  Moniteiir  Universelle 
in  January,  1836,  he  gives  his  reasons  for  his  retire- 
ment :  his  great  age,  the  infirmities  which  were  its 
natural  consequence,  the  repose  which  it  prescribed, 
and  the  thoughts  which  it  suggested.  In  another 
document  he  says  that  he  does  not  wish  "to  be 
reminded  by  the  solve  senescentem  of  Horace  that 
he  had  delayed  this  step  too  long."     But  Lady 

^  Comte  A.  de  la  Garde-Chambounas,  who  was  at  Vienna  during 
the  Congress,  speaks,  in  his  Souvenirs,  of  the  Comtcsse  Edmond 
de  Perigord's  beauty  with  much  enthusiasm.  He  adds,  "  EUe 
a  sur  sa  figure  et  dans  toute  sa  personne  ce  charme  irresistible 
sans  quelle  la  beautc,  la  plus  parfaite,  est  sans  pouvoir." 

2  La  Vic  Priv6e,  p.  279. 


V]  TALLEYRAND'S  LAST   TASK       189 

Blennerhassett  writes  : 

"  The  real  reason  which  led  him  to  close  his  public  career 
of  fifty  years  lay  deeper.  He  was  of  opinion  that  with  the 
Reform  Bill  England  had  entered  on  a  path  which  would 
lead  to  an  entire  transformation  of  her  essential  institutions, 
and  convert  the  greatest  aristocratic  government  of  the 
modern  world  into  a  democratic  community.  The  parlia- 
mentary revolution,  which  he  compared  to  the  revolution  of 
1789,  might  be  inevitable.  At  all  events,  the  new  order  of 
things  did  not  inspire  him  with  the  same  confidence  as  the 
institutions  which  had  created  the  British  Empire."  ^ 

Talleyrand  had  eyes.     Political  vision  was  his 
supreme  gift. 


VII 

The  task  which  now  lay  before  Talleyrand  was 
to  prepare  for  his  exit  from  the  world's  stage.  It 
occupied  his  mind  much  in  these  long  nights  of 
little  sleep,  when,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  on  pense  a 
terriblement  de  choses."  The  task  was  a  supremely 
difficult  one,  although,  as  he  recognized,  Madame 
de  Talleyrand's  death — she  predeceased  him  by 
three  years — simplified  his  position.^  Royer- 
Collard  observed  of  him,  "  He  was  always  a  man  of 
pacification  ;  he  will  not  refuse  to  make  his  peace 
with  God  before  he  dies."  How  he  set  about  it, 
how  earnestly  he  was  assisted  by  the  Duchesse  de 

1  p.  526. 

"  That  was  his  expression  when  he  heard  of  the  event.  "  Ceci 
simplifie  beaucoup  ma  position."  As  M.  de  Lacombe  remarks, 
"  II  ne  lui  restait  de  son  amour  qu'une  rancune." 


190  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

Dino,  a  fervent  Catholic/  whatever  the  irregulari- 
ties of  her  life,  may  be  read  at  large  in  M.  de 
Lacombe's  last  volume,  where  the  account  left  by 
Mgr.   Dupanloup,  hitherto  known  only  by  frag- 
ments, is  given  in  full.     One  thing  which  stands 
out  clearty  is  that  in  this  grave  matter  he  acted 
rather  as  an  astute  diplomatist  than  as  a  returning 
prodigal.     He  put  off  his  reconciliation  with  the 
Church  to  the  latest  possible  moment ;    and  he 
made  his  submission  in  the  widest  and  vaguest 
terms.     His  tone  is  largely  apologetic  in  both  the 
documents  signed  by  him.     He  blames  the  excesses 
of  the  age  to  which  he  has  belonged.     He  condemns 
"  frankly  "  the  serious  errors  which  in  that  long 
tract   of  years   have   troubled   and   afflicted   the 
Church  Catholic,  Apostolic,  and  Roman — errors  in 
which  he  has  participated.     He  protests  his  entire 
submission  to  the  doctrine  and  discipline  of  the 
Church  and  to  the  decisions  and  judgments  of  the 
Holy  See.     He  deplores  the  acts  of  his  life  which 
have  saddened  the  Church.     Renan  observes  that 
whether  or  no  there  was  joy  in  the  presence  of  the 
angels  of  God  over  this  retractation   of  all  his 
revolutionary  past,  there  was  joy  in  the  Catholic 
world  of   the    Faubourg    St.    Germain    and    the 
Faubourg  St.  Honore.^ 

And  now  what  are  we  to  think  of  the  career  of 
this    Founder    of     the    Constitutional    Church  ? 

^  She  was  brought  up  in  Protestantism  of  the  haziest  kind — 
see  her  MSmoircs — and  was  led,  early  in  life,  to  become  a  Catholic, 
chiefly  by  perusing  Bossuet. 

2  Souvenirs  d'Enfance  et  de  Jeuncsse,  p.  162. 


V]  BALZAC  ON  TALLEYRAND         191 

Instead  of  answering  the  question,  let  us  see  how 
the  **  great  inquisitor  of  human  nature  "  contem- 
porary with  him  answered  it.  In  Pere  Goriot 
Talleyrand  is  spoken  of  as 

"  the  Prince  whom  every  one  throws  a  stone  at,  and  who 
despises  humanity  enough  to  spit  in  its  face  {pour  lui  cracker 
an  visage)  as  many  oaths  as  it  asks  for ;  who  prevented  the 
partition  of  France  at  the  Congress  of  Vienna  ;  who  deserves 
crowns,  and  whom  every  one  pelts  with  mud." 

We  must  remember,  however,  into  whose  mouth 
Balzac  puts  these  words.  They  express  the  view 
which  Vautrin  took  :  the  judgment  which  the 
Prince  of  Convicts  was  led  by  his  life  philosophy 
to  form  of  the  ex-Bishop  of  Autun.  And  what 
was  that  life  philosophy  ?     This  : — 

"  Do  you  know  how  a  man  makes  his  way  here  ?  By 
dazzhng  genius  or  by  adroit  corruption.  You  must  tear 
among  the  mass  of  men  hke  a  cannon  ball,  or  steal  among 
them  Hke  a  pestilence.  Mere  honesty  is  no  good  at  all.  If 
you  want  to  get  rich,  you  must  play  for  big  stakes.  If  you 
don't,  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  low  playing,  which  don't 
suit  yours  truly.  There  you  have  life  as  it  is.  Not  nice,  is 
it  ?  No  more  is  cookery.  That  stinks  in  your  nostrils  too, 
doesn't  it  ?  But  you  mustn't  mind  soiling  your  hands  if  you 
want  your  grub.  Only  take  jolly  good  care  to  wash  them 
well  afterwards.  And  there  you  have  the  whole  morality  of 
this  life  of  ours.  Do  you  suppose  I  blame  the  world  for  being 
what  it  is  ?  By  no  manner  of  means.  It  has  always  been 
like  that.  And  the  moralists  won't  ever  make  it  chfferent. 
I  don't  speak  to  you  of  those  poor  helots  who,  all  the  world 
over,  work  away  without  getting  anything  for  their  toil.  I 
call  them  the  Confraternity  of  Almighty  God's  ragamuffins. 
Sure  enough  there  you  have  virtue  in  the  full  bloom  of  its 


192  THE  FOUNDER  OF  A  NEW  CHURCH  [ch. 

idiocy — yes,  and  destitution  with  it.  I  can  see  from  liere  the 
face  those  good  fellows  will  make  if  God  should  play  them  the 
bad  joke  of  stopping  away  at  the  Last  Judgment." 

That  appears  to  me  to  express  accurately,  in 
the  jargon  of  the  hulks,  the  principles  on  which 
Talleyrand  acted  during  his  long  career.  His 
patriotism,  of  which  so  much  is  said,  was  really  his 
skilful  playing  of  the  political  game  :  a  game  which 
he  found  far  more  exciting  than  his  other  favourite 
pastime  of  whist,  and  in  which  vast  gains  were  to 
be  won,  and  were  won  by  himself.  "  J'ai  servi 
depuis  Louis  XVI.  tons  les  gouvernements  par 
attachement  a  mon  pays,"  he  wrote  to  Louis 
Philippe.  Par  attachement  a  moi-meme,  would 
have  been  the  truth. 

Here,  then,  as  it  appears  to  me,  we  have  the 
key  to  Talleyrand's  life.  And  what  are  we  to 
think  of  his  death,  reconciled  to  the  Catholic  Church 
and  fortified  by  her  Sacraments  ?  It  was  a  great 
event  in  1838,  and  widely  differing  judgments  were 
passed  upon  it.  Chateaubriand,  in  his  Memoir es 
d'Outre-Tomhe,  writes  :  *'  La  comedie  par  laquelle 
le  prelat  a  couronne  ses  vingt-quatre  deux  ans  est 
une  chose  pitoyable."  ^  M.  de  Blancmaison  ob- 
served, "  Apres  avoir  roule  tout  le  monde  il  a  voulu 
linir  par  rouler  le  bon  Dieu."  Lord  Balling's 
explanation  is  :  "  Talleyrand's  family  were  specially 
anxious  that   he   should   die   in  peace   with   the 

1  He  speaks  of  "  sa  niece  jouant  autour  de  lui  un  role  prepar6 
de  loin,  entre  un  pretre  abuse  et  une  petite  fille  trompde,"  which 
is  assuredly  unjust  to  the  Duchesse  de  Dino,  of  whose  good  faith 
and  religious  zeal  there  can  be  no  question. 


V]  DIFFERING  JUDGMENTS  193 

Church,  and  when  convinced  that  he  could  not 
recover,  he  assented  to  all  that  was  asked  of  him 
in  this  respect,  as  a  favour  that  could  do  him  no 
harm  and  was  agreeable  to  those  about  him."  ^ 
That  worldly-wise  old  lady,  Madame  de  Boignc, 
speaks  of  his  anxiety  about  his  burial,  and  opines 
that  notwithstanding  all  the  vicissitudes  of  his 
social  existence,  he  wished  to  die  as  a  gentleman 
and  a  Christian,  if  not  as  a  priest."  The  Abbe 
Dupanloup,  afterwards  illustrious  as  Bishop  of 
Orleans,  who  reconciled  him  to  the  Church  and  gave 
him  the  last  rites  of  religion,  observes  :  "  Dieu  sait 
le  secret  des  coeurs,  mais  je  lui  demande  de  donner 
a  ceux  qui  ont  cru  pouvoir  douter  de  la  sincerite 
de  M.  de  Talleyrand,  je  demande  pour  eux,  a  I'heure 
de  la  mort,  les  sentiments  que  j'ai  vu  dans  M.  de 
Talleyrand  mourant."  Yes  :  "  Dieu  sait  le  secret 
des  coeurs."  It  is  not  for  us  to  invade  the  pene- 
tralia of  conscience,  or  to  give  sentence  upon 
things  which  **  the  Invisible  King,  only  omniscient, 
hath  suppressed  in  night." 

^  Historical  Characters,  vol.  i.  p.  432. 
2  Memoires,  vol.  iv.  p.  205. 


O 


CHAPTER   VI 

A  Paladin  of  the  Restoration 

I 

Chateaubriand  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  most 
striking  and  fascinating  figures  of  the  early  nine- 
teenth century.  One  thing  which  marks  him  off 
from  most  public  men  of  his  time — from,  for 
example,  the  two  of  whom  I  have  had  to  speak  in 
the  last  two  Chapters — is  that  he  had  deep  con- 
victions, and  unswervingly  adhered  to  them  at 
whatever  cost  of  personal  suffering  and  sacrifice. 
His  mission  it  was  to  recall  to  his  generation 
traditions  and  ideals  of  the  Old  France  which  the 
Revolution  had  banished  for  the  New  :  to  recall 
them  and  to  make  them  available  for  the  exigencies 
of  national  life.  I  do  not  know  where  the  spirit 
which  animated  him  is  better  described  than  in 
certain  lines  of  a  great  poet  of  our  own  : 

"  Love  thou  thy  land,  with  love  far-brought 
From  out  the  storied  Past,  and  used 
Within  the  Present,  but  transfused 
Thro'  future  time  by  power  of  thought." 

That    his   labours    were  not    crowned    with    the 

194 


[CH.  VI]       PRURIENT  CRAVINGS  195 

success  which  they  merited,  is  not  to  be  accounted 
among  his  many  faults  upon  which  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  touch  in  this  Chapter. 


II 

For  one  striking  characteristic  of  the  age  in 
which  we  live  is  its  passionate  desire  to  rake  up 
the  private  lives  of  famous  or  notorious  persons 
after  their  decease.  The  late  Mr.  J.  A.  Froude 
who,  upon  a  memorable  occasion,  cast  aside  the 
most  sacred  obligations  of  friendship  and  the  most 
elementary  considerations  of  decency  to  minister 
to  that  desire,  also  applied  himself  to  apologize 
for  it.  *'  The  public,''  he  asserted,  "  will  not  be 
satisfied  without  sifting  the  history  of  its  men  of 
letters  to  the  last  grain  of  fact  which  can  be 
ascertained  about  them.  This  is  not  curiosity, 
but  a  legitimate  demand."  ^  "  Legitimate  "  ? 
How  ?  "  'Tis  but  right  the  many-headed  beast 
should  know,"  we  are  told.  Whence  the  right  ? 
On  what  ground  can  it  be  maintained  that  any 
man  possesses,  that  any  body  of  men  possesses, 
a  prerogative  to  exhume  the  most  intimate  personal 
affairs  of  the  dead  and  to  put  them  on  trial  before 
"  the  public  " — what  a  tribunal !  Right  ?  There 
is,  there  can  be,  no  such  right.  I  protest  against 
the  prostitution  of  that  august  word  to  veil  the 
prurient  cravings  of  a  decadent  age.     I  am  well 

^  Carlyle's  Early  Life,  vol.  i.  pref. 


196  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

aware  that  the  protest  is  as  the  voice  of  one  crying 
in  the  wilderness  :  powerless  against  the  general 
conviction  that  all  possible  details  of  the  doings, 
and  especially  the  misdoings,  of  public  men — and, 
I  may  say,  of  public  w^omen  too — ought  to  be 
revealed  to  the  world.  And  so  a  considerable 
department  of  literature  has  become  a  sort  of 
private  inquiry  office. 

It  is  a  maxim  of  the  law — a  maxim  to  be 
applied  most  cautiously  indeed — Quod  fieri  non 
debet,  factum  valet.  The  results  achieved  by  these 
literary  resurrectionists  are  before  us.  We  could 
not  abolish  them  if  we  would.  And  however  re- 
pugnant to  our  feelings  their  proceedings  may  be, 
the  matter  purveyed  by  them  has  to  be  reckoned 
with.  No  one  could  now  write,  to  any  purpose, 
concerning  the  subject  of  this  present  Chapter, 
Chateaubriand,  without  consulting  the  new  in- 
formation about  him  thus  supplied.  His  prescient 
intellect  indeed  divined  the  interest  which  posterity 
would  take  in  his  personality,  and  for  many  years 
he  devoted  himself  to  setting  down  in  his  Memoires 
d'Outre-Tombe  what  he  supposed  would  satisfy  it. 
But  the  Memoires  by  no  means  suffice  to  slake  the 
prevailing  thirst  for  information  about  their  author. 
For  that,  recourse  must  be  had  to  other  somewhat 
putrid  fountains,  and  the  books  which  lie  on  my 
table,  as  I  write,  testify  how  every  hole  and  corner 
has  been  ransacked  to  find  out  his  secrets.  I  have 
no  wish  to  be  unjust  to  these  works.  I  cannot  but 
agree    with    M.    de    Lacharriere    that,    although 


VI]  THE  BRITISH  ESTIMATE  197 

sometimes  they  merely  pander  to  the  pubhc 
appetite  for  scandal,  they  often  contain  data  of 
value.  M.  de  Lacharriere,  indeed,  goes  further 
and  remarks  apologetically,  that  when  we  have 
to  do  with  such  a  nature  as  Chateaubriand's — 
"  une  nature  toute  de  sensibilite — a  knowledge  of 
his  love  affairs  is  an  indispensable  commentary 
on  his  writings."  ^  Personally  I  demur  to  the 
adjective  "  indispensable."  I  think  we  might 
have  done  without  this  commentary.  But,  as  it 
exists,  we  cannot  ignore  it  or  put  it  aside. 

And  now,  in  the  first  place,  let  us  consider  a 
little  the  net  result  of  these  abundant  revelations 
about  Chateaubriand  which  we  owe  to  the  un- 
tiring perseverance  of  the  new  inquisitors.  Cer- 
tainly, so  far  as  the  British  public  is  concerned, 
that  net  result  is  unfavourable.  The  popular  con- 
ception of  him  in  this  country — a  very  erroneous 
conception — is  that  he  was  a  maker  of  evidences 
of  Christianity  :  a  prophet  of  righteousness  to  the 
dechristianised  France  of  the  opening  nineteenth 
century.  And  I  think  I  shall  not  be  wrong  in 
saying  that  the  impression  left  upon  the  minds  of 
most  British  readers  who  know  anything  of  the 
recent  literature  about  him,  either  at  first-  or  at 
second-hand,  is  that  this  Christian  apologist,  this 
preacher  of  righteousness,  as  they  account  him,  was, 
from  first  to  last,  a  man  of  loose  life,  faithless  to 
his   own   wife,   and   engaged   in   a   succession   of 

^  Les  cahiers  de  Madame  de  Chateaubriand  :  Publies  intigrale- 
ment  et  avec  notes,  par  J.  Ledrest  de  Lacharriere,  intro.,  p.  ix. 


198.4  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

intrigues  with  the  wives  of  other  men.  Whence 
the  conchision  is  pretty  generally  drawn  that  he 
did  not  believe  in  the  creed  which  he  professed 
and  whose  claims  he  advocated — that,  in  short, 
he  was  a  hypocrite.  It  is  not  an  unnatural  con- 
clusion for  the  average  British  reader  :  but  I  am 
persuaded  that  it  is  a  false  one.  It  is  not  unnatural 
because  the  average  British  reader  looks  at  the 
matter  from  the  Protestant  point  of  view  pre- 
vailing in  this  country.  And  in  this  connexion, 
I  cannot  do  better  than  cite  certain  words  of 
Cardinal  Newman's  : 

"  Protestants  do  not  think  the  inconsistency  possible  of 
really  believing  without  obeying  ;  and  when  they  see  dis- 
obedience they  cannot  imagine  there  the  existence  of  real 
faith.  Catholics,  on  the  other  hand,  hold  that  faith  and 
obedience,  faith  and  works,  are  simply  separable,  and  are 
ordinarily  separated  in  fact.  .  .  .  Faith  in  the  Catholic  creed 
is  a  certainty  of  things  not  seen  but  revealed.  ...  It  is  a 
spiritual  sight.  .  .  .  This  certainty,  or  spiritual  sight,  is 
according  to  Catholic  teaching,  perfectly  distinct,  in  its  own 
nature,  from  the  desire,  intention,  and  power  of  acting  agree- 
ably to  it.  .  .  .  Vice  does  not  involve  a  neglect  of  the 
external  duties  of  religion.  The  Crusaders  had  faith  sufficient 
to  bind  them  to  a  perilous  pilgrimage  and  warfare  :  they  kept 
the  Friday's  abstinence  and  planted  the  tents  of  their  mistresses 
within  the  shadow  of  the  pavilion  of  the  glorious  St.  Louis."  ^ 

An  unquestioning  belief,  then,  in  Christianity 
— "  the  faith  of  a  charcoal  burner,"  as  the  French 
say — seems  to  me  quite  compatible  with  the  in- 
fringement, even  the  habitual  infringement,  of 
some  of  its  positive  precepts.     But  the  Protestant, 

*  Anglican  DiffictiUies^  pp.  236-24G. 


VI]       THE  BRITISH   VIEW  OF    VICE      199 

or  rather  non-Catholic,  EngHshman  does  not  see 
this.  At  all  events — to  come  to  one  particular 
instance — he  is  quite  sure  that  what  he  calls  **  real 
faith  "  cannot  co-exist  with  disregard  of  the  pre- 
scriptions of  Christianity  concerning  the  relations 
of  the  sexes.  He  terms  a  man  guilty  of  that  dis- 
regard a  vicious  man — vice  meaning  for  him  speci- 
ally, if  not  exclusively,  sexual  intercourse  out  of 
marriage.  Hence,  at  the  time  of  the  great  ex- 
plosion of  the  Nonconformist  conscience,  occasioned 
by  a  scandalous  episode  in  the  life  of  Mr.  Parnell, 
an  eminent  Italian  ecclesiastic  was  led  to  observe 
to  a  friend  of  mine,  "  You  English  seem  to  think 
that  there  is  only  one  virtue."  So  Mr.  Mallock's 
pungent  remark  :  "  The  quality  of  chastity  [is] 
popularly  called  morality,  as  though  it  comprised 
all  the  other  virtues,  or  even  the  chief  of  them." 
Mr.  Mallock  goes  on  to  observe,  no  doubt  correctly 
— it  is  not  a  subject  in  which  I  am  specially  versed 
— that  *'  the  physical  basis  of  this  quality  is  the 
cerebellum."  ^  I  suppose,  then,  we  must  conclude 
that  Chateaubriand's  cerebellum  was,  in  some  way 
or  other,  unsatisfactory.  However  that  may  be, 
it  is  certain  that  his  life  was  unsatisfactory  in  the 
matter  of  his  sexual  relations.  This  must  be 
allowed.  My  present  point  is  that  here  is  no 
reason  for  questioning  his  religious  sincerity. 
Even  Sainte-Beuve,  whose  malice  would  have 
neglected  no  point  which  might  have  been  plausibly 
made  against  him,  did  not  question  it. 

*  Religion  as  a  Credible  Doctrine,  p.  139. 


200  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

But  there  is  more  to  be  said  on  this  subject. 
The  principles  of  the  moral  law  which  Christianity 
consecrates  and  inculcates  are  immutable  :  they 
are  ''  not  of  an  age  but  for  all  time."  Most  of 
those  principles,  however,  are  not  of  specifically 
Christian  origin.  It  is  certain  that  Jesus  Christ 
left  no  code  of  ethics.  He  left  the  record  of  a 
life  wherein  the  moral  ideal  is  realized  :  a  supreme 
example  :  an  all-sufficient  pattern.  But  it  is  im- 
possible to  form  from  the  Gospels,  even  if  we  add 
to  them  the  Epistles,  the  elements  of  a  scientific 
morality.  So  Suarez  observes  :  *'  Christ  did  not 
deliver  positive  moral  precepts,  but  rather  deve- 
loped (explicavit)  those  of  the  natural  order."  ^ 
And  in  another  part  of  his  great  work  he  quotes 
the  dictum  of  Aquinas  that  the  New  Law  is  con- 
tained in  the  moral  precepts  of  the  Natural  Law 
and  in  the  articles  of  the  faith  and  the  Sacraments 
of  Grace.-  This  Natural  Law  does  not  depend 
upon  the  command  of  a  Supreme  Legislator,  but 
is  a  permanent  revelation  of  the  reason,  indicating 
what  is  good  or  bad  for  a  man  as  a  rational  creature  : 
what  should  be  as  distinct  from  what  is.  And  when 
in  the  expanding  Christian  society  the  need  arose 
for  a  scientific  synthesis,  recourse  was  had  to  the 
philosophers  of  Greece,  to  Aristotle  and  Plato,  to 
the  Stoics  and  the  Epicureans.  But  there  was 
one  important  title  of  morals  concerning  which 
the  teaching  of  those  "  wise  old  spirits,"  as  Jeremy 

*  De  Legibus,  lib.  ii.  c.  15,  v.  g. 
?  Ibid.  lib.  X.  c.  2,  v.  20. 


VI]  THE   VIRTUE  OF  PURITY  201 

Taylor  well  calls  them,  was  inadequate,  the  title 
regarding  the  relations  of  the  sexes.  Looking  the 
other  day  at  a  recent  work  of  French  fiction,^ 
which  seems  to  have  **  caught  on,"  as  the  phrase 
is — in  a  very  short  time  it  has  gone  through  a 
dozen  editions — I  came  upon  the  following  con- 
fession of  faith  made  by  the  hero  of  the  story  : 
*'  Je  n'ai  jamais  pu  attacher  a  I'oeuvre  de  chair  la 
moindre  importance,  et  je  ne  suis  pas,  de  cet  egard, 
infecte  de  Christianisme."  "  Infecte  de  Chris- 
tianisme  !  "  The  author  spoke  wisely,  more  wisely, 
probably,  than  he  was  aware  of.  Christianity  in- 
troduced into  the  world  a  new  doctrine  as  to  the 
relations  of  the  sexes,  a  doctrine  resting  on  its 
revelation  of  the  virtue  of  purity.  The  great 
moralists  of  the  antique  world  had  barely  suspected 
the  existence  of  such  a  virtue.  We  should  hardly 
exaggerate  in  speaking  of  it  as  unknown  in  ancient 
Rome  or  Hellas.  A  wife  was  expected,  indeed, 
to  be  faithful  to  her  husband.  But  that  duty 
was  derived  from  the  fact  that  she  was  his  pro- 
perty :  that  her  office  was  to  bear  his  children. 
No  similar  duty  was  regarded  as  incumbent  upon 
a  man.  The  Greek  orator  in  a  well-known  passage 
says,  "  We  have  courtesans  for  pleasure,  female 
house  slaves  (TraXXa/ca?)  for  daily  physical  service, 
and  wives  for  the  procreation  of  legitimate  children, 
and  for  faithfully  watching  over  our  domestic 
concerns."  And  a  man's  intercourse  with  all 
these  classes  of  women  was  regarded  as  equally 

^  Daniel,  par  Abel  Hemmant,  p.  34. 


202  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

lawful.  The  view  which  Christianity  introduced 
rests,  of  course,  upon  its  doctrine  of  the  Incar- 
nation :  "  sanctification  and  honour  "  is  its  new 
law  ^  of  the  relations  of  the  sexes  in  virtue  of  their 
new  creation  in  Christ.  But  it  is  not  necessary 
to  pursue  that  topic  here.  What  I  am  concerned 
to  observe  is  that,  in  the  age  and  country  into 
which  Chateaubriand  was  bom,  this  Christian  view 
was  largely  inoperative.  It  had  fallen  into  abey- 
ance in  the  days  of  the  Ancien  Regime.  Under 
the  First  Republic  it  was  definitely  rejected.  The 
society  in  which  Chateaubriand  lived  and  moved 
and  had  his  being  had  not  recovered  it.  And,  to 
quote  certain  admirable  words  of  Tainc,  "  We 
must  look  at  men  and  things  in  the  environment 
(milieu)  which  explains  them."  For  good  and 
for  evil,  Chateaubriand  was  of  his  age,  and  I  may 
remark,  in  passing,  that  it  was  not  as  a  prophet 
of  righteousness,  a  preacher  of  penance,  that  he 
appealed  to  his  age.  What  his  message  to  it  was, 
I  shall  consider  later  on.  Here  I  am  merely  con- 
cerned to  observe  that  I  do  not  seek  to  extenuate, 
although  I  quite  understand,  his  conformity  to  its 
ways.  No  doubt  he  ought  to  have  followed  a 
nobler  rule.  But  he  did  not.  Is  that  any 
wonder  ?  I  suppose  the  critics  who  are  so  ready 
to  throw  stones  at  him  would  unquestionably  have 

^  "  Its  new  law."  This  is  clearly  enough  indicated  in  the 
Apostle's  words  :  "  Let  every  man  possess  his  vessel  in  sanctifica- 
tion and  honour,  not  in  the  lust  of  concupiscence,  even  as  the 
Gentiles  who  know  not  God  "  (i  Thess.  iv.  5). 


VI]  DEUM  AM  ARE,  MULIERIBUS  VINCI  203 

conformed  to  that  severer  standard  had  they  been 
in  his  place.  Doubtless  they  know  themselves 
to  be  without  sin.  For  m^/self  I  confess  I  have  not 
that  reassuring  conviction  of  my  utter  whiteness 
which  would  warrant  my  joining  them.  And  I 
do  not  feel  inclined  to  usurp  the  office  proper  to 
*'  the  pure  eves  and  perfect  witness  of  all-judging 
Jove." 

So  much  may  suffice  to  explain  why,  though 
personally  lamenting  Chateaubriand's  lapses  from 
chastity,  I  find  therein  no  argument  to  support 
the  charge  of  hypocrisy  sometimes  based  upon 
them.  Indeed,  may  we  not  say  that  they  were,  in 
some  sort,  a  manifestation — illicit,  unfortunately 
— of  certain  of  the  more  striking  of  his  psychical 
endowments  ?  An  ancient  sage  has  pointed  out 
that  "  Deum  amare  "  and  "  mulieribus  vinci  "  are 
closely  related  in  the  highest  natures.  I  suppose 
David,  the  "  man  after  God's  own  heart,"  as  he 
was  considered,  may  serve  as  an  illustration  of 
the  truth  of  this  dictum.  Anyhow,  true  it  would 
seem  to  be.  Chateaubriand  came  of  a  very  noble 
race,  the  Breton ;  a  profoundly  poetical  race  ; 
devout  Catholics ;  ardent  lovers.  He  was  first 
and  before  all  things  a  poet  :  ^  a  poet  of  a  very 
high  order ;  and  is  it  possible  to  deny  some  force 
to  M.  Seche's  words  ? 

^  It  may  be  pointed  out  that  the  real  antithesis  is  not  between 
verse  and  prose,  but  between  poetry  and  prose.  Many  of  the 
truest  poets  have  never  written  a  Une  of  verse  :  many  versifiers 
have  been  writing  prose,  and  nothing  else,  all  their  lives. 


204^1  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [en. 

"  N'en  voulons  done  pas  a  Chateaubriand  d'avoir  si  bien 
amalgame  I'amour  et  la  religion  qu'on  ne  saurait  pas  plus  les 
separer  dans  sa  vie  que  dans  son  oeuvre.  II  etait  voue  au 
premier  avant  d'embrasser  la  seconde,  ou  plutot  il  avail  suce 
I'un  et  I'autre  avec  le  lait  maternel,  et  la  morale  relachee  de 
ceux  qui  ont  fait  le  catholicisme  a  leur  image  etait  incapable 
de  lui  imposer,  a  trente-deux  ans,  le  sacrifice  necessaire.  En 
Bretagne  tous  les  coeurs  biens  nes  sont  amoureux  des  I'enfance, 
L'amour,  au  pays  de  Marie  et  de  Pecheur  d'Islande,  est  aussi 
indispensable  a  la  vie  de  Tame  que  le  pain  a  la  vie  du  corps. 
Tout  petits,  on  nous  berce  avec  des  chansons  dont  l'amour  est 
le  theme  unique  ;  c'est  sur  les  bancs  du  catechisme  que 
s'ebauchent  les  premieres  idylles,  et,  la  mer  et  le  ciel  aidant — 
la  mer  grise  sous  le  ciel  brumeux — vers  la  seizi^me  annee  les 
passions  naissantes  nous  plongent  dans  des  reveries  sans  fin. 
De  Ik  notre  fonds  de  mclancolie  naturelle,  car  il  n'y  a  pas 
d'amour  sans  trouble  et  sans  chagrin.  Et  voila  pourquoi 
aussi,  dans  I'espece  de  prison  ou  son  pere  I'avait  pour  ainsi 
dire  emmure  k  Combourg,  Chateaubriand  s'dprit  d'abord  de 
sa  soeur  Lucile.  II  n'y  a  qu'une  chose  qu'il  n'ait  pas  connue 
en  amour,  c'est  la  fidelite — vertu  si  bretonne  pourtant,  que 
sa  ville  natale  s'en  est  fait  une  devise  :  Semper  fidelis,  lit-on 
sur  I'ecusson  de  Saint-Malo.  Mais  de  cela  encore  il  ne  faut 
pas  lui  faire  un  grief  trop  severe  :  il  tenait  de  sa  caste  sa  belle 
inconstance.  C'etait  un  vieux  reste  de  chevalerie,  la  noblesse 
fran^aise  ayant  toujours  mis  son  amour-propre  a  marcher  sur 
les  traces  du  roi  vert-galant.  Et  d'ailleurs,  s'il  fut  inconstant 
en  matiere  d'amour,  on  pent  d'autant  mieux  I'excuser,  de  ce 
chef,  qu'il  poussa  la  fidelite  jusqu'a  I'heroisme  en  matiere 
d'honneur."  ^ 

Yes  :  it  is  quite  true  that  he  carried  fideHty 
to  the  extent  of  heroism  where  honour  was  con- 
cerned. He  well  merits  the  title  of  Paladin  of 
the  Restoration. 

^  Horlcnse  Allart  dc  Miritcns,  preface,  p.  ii. 


VI]  CHATEA  UBRIAND  REHABILITATED  205 


III 

And  now  let  us  go  on  to  consider  a  little  further 
what  those  "  esprits  passionnes  pour  I'etude  dc 
Chateaubriand,"  who  have  laboured  so  abundantly, 
have  practically  achieved  for  him.  Their  books, 
as  we  have  seen,  have  brought  into  stronger  relief 
some  of  his  weaknesses  of  character  and  conduct 
specially  odious  to  the  British  public,  and  have 
done  him  ill-service  in  this  country.  In  France 
it  has  been  otherwise.  These  matters  have  there 
received  comparatively  small  attention,  and  the 
general  effect  of  the  recent  literature  about  Chateau- 
briand has  been  to  rehabilitate  him,  so  to  speak. 
The  sort  of  adoration  lavished  upon  him  during 
the  latter  years  of  his  life  was  succeeded  after  his 
death  by  a  violent  reaction,  due  in  greater  measure 
to  Sainte-Beuve  ^  than  to  any  one  else,  which  has 
lasted,  more  or  less,  to  this  present  da}^  But 
there  are  indications  that  a  more  favourable  and, 
I  will  say,  a  juster  judgment  has  now  gained  ground 
among  his  countr3/men.  The  unswerving  loyalty 
of  the  man  to  his  convictions,  his  refusal  to  sacrifice 

^  I  do  not  know  who  has  better  judged  Sainte-Beuve's  work 
on  Chateaubriand  than  M.  Giraud.  After  indicating  the  sort  of 
book  which  the  great  critic,  endowed  with  so  many  fine  quahties, 
might  have  been  expected  to  produce,  he  continues  :  "  II  a  mieux 
aime  satisfaire  ses  rancunes,  et  au  heu  de  I'etude  serieuse  et 
decisive  qui  seule  eut  ete  digne  de  Sainte-Beuve  et  de  son  passe, 
nous  avons  eu  un  Hvre  tres  interessant  certes,  et  fort  amusant, 
tres  habile  aussi,  mais  aussi  malveillant  qu'habile,  hvre  tres, 
superficiel  en  somme  et  d'une  criante  injustice." — Chateaubriand : 
Etudes  Litieraires,  Avant-propos,  p.  x. 


206^  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [cH. 

one  jot  or  tittle  of  them  to  his  personal  interests, 
his  elevatedconception  of  public  duty,  the  amplitude 
and  prescience  of  his  political  vision,  his  indifference 
to  money,  the  firmness  of  his  friendships,  his  frank- 
ness of  speech,  "  his  hand  unstained,  his  uncor- 
rupted  heart,"  are  now  more  correctly  valued. 
And  I  suppose  most  competent  men  of  letters 
would  accept  the  judgment  formulated  by  Lord 
Acton.  **  He  wrote  French  as  it  had  never  been 
written  :  and  the  magnificent  roll  of  his  sentences 
caught  the  ear  of  his  countrymen  with  convincing 
force."  ^ 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  put  before  my  readers 
a  biographical  sketch  of  Chateaubriand.  I  shall, 
however,  follow  the  chronological  order  in  what 
I  am  about  to  write.  He  came  of  a  very  dis- 
tinguished Breton  family.  One  of  his  ancestors 
had  fought  by  the  side  of  St.  Louis  at  the  battle 
of  Mansoura  (1250),  and,  like  the  king,  was 
wounded  and  taken  prisoner.  The  monarch, 
touched  by  his  devotion,  gave  him  permission  to 
bear  the  royal  fletir-de-lys  in  his  escutcheon  and 
to  use  the  motto  "  Notre  sang  a  teint  la  banniere 
de  France."  Chateaubriand  was  born  in  1768, 
and  spent  his  childhood  in  the  gloomy  ancestral 
chateau  of  Combourg.  As  a  younger  son,  he  does 
not  seem  to  have  received  much  attention  from 
either  of  his  parents  ;  and  the  same  must  be  said 
of  his  highly  gifted  sister  Lucile,  between  whom 
and  himself  there  was  a  passionate  affection.     He 

^  Lectures  on  the  French  RevohUion,  p.  115. 


VI]        CHATEAUBRIAND'S   YOUTH         207 

distinguished  himself  first  at  his  school  at  Dol, 
and  then  at  the  College  of  Rennes,  by  his  appli- 
cation, his  extraordinary  memory,  his  rapid  pro- 
gress in  mathematics,  and  his  decided  taste  for 
languages.  It  was  originally  intended  to  send  him 
into  the  navy.  That  intention  was,  howevcF, 
abandoned.  At  one  time  he  imagined  himself  to 
have  a  vocation  for  the  ecclesiastical  state,  and 
was  sent  to  the  College  at  Dinan  to  complete  his 
studies  in  the  humane  letters  ;  but  he  soon  recog- 
nized that  he  was  not  fitted  for  a  sacerdotal  exist- 
ence. At  last,  as  he  seemed  unable  to  choose  a 
career  for  himself,  his  father  chose  one  for  him, 
addressing  him  in  the  following  terms  : 

"  Chevalier,  you  must  give  up  your  nonsense.  Your 
brother  has  procured  for  you  a  sub-Heutenant's  commission 
in  the  Navarre  regiment  You  will  start  for  Rennes,  and 
from  there  you  will  go  to  Cambrai.  Here  are  a  hundred  louis. 
I  am  old  and  ill,  and  have  not  long  to  live.  Conduct  yourself 
like  a  man  of  honour  :  and  never  disgrace  your  name." 

Chateaubriand  tells  us  that  he  was  so  affected 
by  this  address  that  he  threw  himself  on  the 
paternal  hand  and  covered  it  with  kisses. 

And  so  Chateaubriand  left  the  prison-house 
of  his  childhood  and  went  to  Paris  and  thence 
to  Cambrai,  where  he  joined  his  regiment.  He 
appears  to  have  soon  acquired  such  knowledge  of 
his  profession  as  was  necessary,  and  to  have  won 
the  esteem  of  his  Colonel.  In  September,  1786, 
his  father  died,  and  he  went  back  to  Combourg 
for  a  brief  visit.     During  the  years  1787-1789  he 


208  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

was  in  Paris  from  time  to  time.  He  felt  inclined 
to  sympathize  with  the  Revolutionary  movement, 
he  tells  us,  but  the  first  head  he  saw  paraded  on 
a  pike  made  him  recoil  from  it.  In  1790  the 
Navarre  regiment,  then  stationed  at  Reims, 
mutinied,  and  he  resigned  his  commission.  His 
brother  officers  went  to  join  the  army  of 
Conde.  He  decided  to  go  to  America  with  the 
grandiose  project  of  discovering  the  North- West 
Passage. 

He  embarked  at  St.  Malo  on  the  8th  of  April, 
1791.  And  the  real  date  of  his  arrival  at  Balti- 
more appears  to  have  been  the  loth  of  July  of 
the  same  year.  He  re-embarked  at  Philadelphia 
on  the  loth  of  the  following  December.  I  give 
these  dates,  which  seem  to  be  fully  established, 
on  the  authority  of  Mr.  Gribble.^  They  reduce 
the  term  of  Chateaubriand's  American  visit  from 
the  traditional  eighteen  months  to  five.  The  im- 
portance of  this  reduction  is,  as  Mr.  Gribble  shows, 
that  it  proves  the  impossibility  of  Chateaubriand 
having  made  in  America  all  the  travels  which  he 
relates.  There  is  unquestionably  an  element  of 
fiction  in  his  narration.  Equally  unquestionable 
is  it — the  proof  will  be  found  in  Mr.  Cribble's 
pages — that  in  writing  it  he  freely  borrowed, 
without  acknowledgment,  from  earlier  travellers 
who  had  really  visited  regions  which  he  had  not. 
All  which  is  certainly  far  from  creditable  to  him. 
An  Elizabethan  poet  writes  : 

^  Chateaubriand  and  his  Court  of  Women,  chap.  iv. 


VI]      THE  TRAMMELS  OF  REALITY     209 

"  We,  through  madness, 
Form  strange  conceits  in  our  discoursing  brains, 
And  prate  of  things  as  we  pretend  they  were." 

Madness  can  hardly  be  pleaded  as  an  excuse  for 
Chateaubriand,  notwithstanding  Pope's  dictum 
that  great  wits  are  near  alhed  to  it.  Veracious  he 
unquestionably  was  in  provinces  where  the  standard 
current  in  his  day,  and  in  his  class,  required 
veracity  from  a  man  of  honour.  Literature  he 
appears  to  have  considered  not  to  be  one  of  those 
provinces  ;  and  I  may  observe,  by  the  way,  that 
he  made  a  like  exception  in  the  case  of  love. 
Further,  we  must  remember  that  there  is  a  very 
considerable  number  of  people  who  must  be 
accounted  congenitally  incapable  of  enduring  the 
trammels  of  reality.  To  pull  the  long  bow^  as 
the  phrase  is,  seems  part  of  their  nature.  A 
master-bowman  was  the  late  Mr.  J.  A.  Froude,  of 
whom  Freeman  observed,  with  hardly  an  ex- 
aggeration, that  his  account  of  any  historical 
matter  rnight  safely  be  accepted  as  indicating 
one  of  the  ways  in  which  it  did  not  happen.  But 
I  should  add  that  this  temperament  is  by  no 
means  incompatible  with  very  high  moral  and 
religious  excellence.  Among  the  best,  I  would 
say  most  saintly,  men  it  has  been  my  privilege 
to  know,  was  the  late  Cardinal  Manning.  At  one 
time  I  was  much  surprised,  like  the  rest  of  the 
world,  by  statements,  as  of  fact,  which  occasionally 
proceeded  from  his  lips  ;    such  as  his  assertion 

that  the  transactions  of  the  Vatican  Council  were 

p 


210  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

characterized  by  "majestic  unanimity,"  or  this: 
*'  In  1800  years  there  has  never  been  wanting  a 
man  prepared  in  secret  by  God  to  rise  up  to  the 
full  elevation  of  the  primacy  of  Peter  ;  and  the 
election  of  the  Holy  Ghost  reveals  him  in  due 
season  to  the  Church  when  the  appointed  hour  is 
come."  ^  Declarations  like  these — and  they  were 
not  unfrequent  with  him — made  one  stare  and 
gasp.  And  it  was  only  when  towards  the  close 
of  his  life  I  had  the  privilege  of  knowing  him  some- 
what intimately,  that  I  realized  the  truth  of  the 
apology  for  them  which  his  friends  were  in  the 
habit  of  making — that  they  were  not  due  to  any 
wish  to  mislead,  but  were  an  outburst  of  the 
poetical  element  in  the  Cardinal's  nature.-  He 
felt  how  delightful  it  would  be  if  the  Vatican 
Council  had  been  "  a  vision  of  peace  "  ;  if  super- 
natural influences  had  been  always  forthcoming 
to  prepare  and  to  designate  the  Roman  Pontiff ; 
and  he  could  not  refrain  from  announcing  these 

^  This  is  a  quotation  from  the  Tablet  report  of  an  Address 
made  by  him  to  his  clergy  on  his  return  from  Rome  after  the 
election  of  Leo  XIII.  I  remember  that  at  the  Requiem  for 
Cardinal  Newman  at  the  London  Oratory,  he  spoke  in  the  course 
of  his  sermon — which,  by  the  way,  contrary  to  his  usual  custom, 
he  read — of  the  "  affectionate  friendship  of  more  than  sixty  years  " 
between  them.  Knowing,  as  I  did,  what  the  relations  of  the  two 
men  really  were,  and  that  instead  of  a  lifelong  friendship  there 
had  been  lifelong  opposition,  fierce  and  bitter,  these  words 
astonished  me  beyond  measure,  as  they  did  most  of  Newman's 
friends.  One  of  them  observed  :  "  Well,  if  Manning  will  say  that, 
he  will  say  anything." 

*  Or,  according  toanother  explanation,  of  "theological  idealism." 


VI]     CHATEAUBRIAND'S  MARRIAGE     211 

aspirations  as  truths.  Perhaps  a  similar  explana- 
tion may  apply  to  Chateaubriand's  fictions.  They 
are  beautiful :  much  more  beautiful  than  the 
plain  unvarnished  tale  would  have  been.  He  was 
before  and  beyond  all  things  a  poet :  and  "  soaring 
in  the  high  reason  of  his  fancies  "  he  may  have 
lost  sight  of  humdrum  facts.  But  he  is  splendide 
mendax  when  he  gives  us  Dichtung  for  Wahrheit. 

On  Chateaubriand's  return  from  America,  his 
relations  appear  to  have  thought  it  his  duty  to 
join  Conde's  army.  But  he  had  no  money.  So 
they  sought  him  a  wife  with  a  dot,  in  order  to 
provide  him  therewith.  **  They  married  me,"  he 
says,  "because  they  wanted  to  give  me  the  means 
of  going  to  get  killed  for  a  cause  to  which  I  was 
indifferent."  The  bride,  Mademoiselle  Celeste 
Buisson  de  Lavigne,  was  a  great  friend  of  his 
adored  sister  Lucile,  and  was  quite  ready  to  accept 
Lucile's  brother,  although  she  knew  nothing  about 
him.  She  was  an  excellent  woman,  possessed  of 
few  personal  charms,  and,  as  Chateaubriand  found 
out  later  on,  not  gifted  with  a  specially  good 
temper — ''  d'une  humeiir  difficile,''  says  the  editor 
of  her  Cahiers.  He  espoused  her  without  en- 
thusiasm, being  quite  indifferent  to  her,  and 
feeling  no  vocation  for  the  married  state.  A  few 
days  afterwards  he  left  her  to  join  Conde's  army, 
with  which  he  served  for  a  few  months.  Then  he 
was  invalided,  and  after  a  difficult  and  perilous 
journey  found  his  way  to  England.  This  was  in 
1793.     He  hved  in  great  poverty  for  some  time  in 


212  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION   [ch. 

London,  whither,  twenty-nine  years  afterwards, 
he  was  to  return  as  the  magnificent  Ambassador 
of  the  Most  Christian  King.  He  went  down  to 
Suffolk  to  teach  French,^  and  there  a  scholarly 
clergyman  *'  loved  him,  oft  invited  him,"  and 
talked  classics  and  travels  with  him  over  copious 
postprandial  port.  The  clergyman's  daughter. 
Miss  Charlotte  Ives,  also  loved  him,  and  the  good 
parson  and  his  wife  were  willing  to  accept  him  as 
a  son-in-law,  when  he  remembered  that  he  had  a 
wife  already,  and  confessed  it  to  Mrs.  Ives,  and 
fled.  No  doubt  his  obliviousness  of  the  fact  that 
he  was  married  is  curious.  But,  as  a  charitable 
critic  has  observed,  "  il  I'etait  si  peu." 

So  he  went  back  to  London,  and  in  1797 
published  his  Essai  sur  les  Revohitions,  which  made 
him  almost  a  personage  among  the  emigres  there, 
and  brought  him  a  little  badly  wanted  money. 
The  book  has  traces  of  what  may  be  called  Chateau- 
briand's "  regal  French  "  ;  "  ceitvre  de  doute,  de 
colere,  et  de  revolte,  plus  sceptique  encore  qiiimpie," 
is  the  account  given  of  it  by  a  great  critic.  No 
doubt  it  was  a  correct  transcript  of  Chateaubriand's 
mind  at  that   period.     Shortly,   M.  de  Fontanes 

^  Chateaubriand's  account  in  the  M6moires  is,  that  he  went 
to  Suffolk  "  to  decipher  manuscripts  in  the  Camden  Collection." 
Mr.  Cribble  (pp.  48-52)  shows  conclusively  that  this  was  not  so, 
but  that  he  went  to  teach  French  in  schools  and  in  private  houses. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  when  Chateaubriand  wrote  the 
portion  of  the  M6moires  dealing  with  this  matter  he  was  in 
London  as  French  Ambassador.  It  is  intelligible,  if  somewhat 
petty,  that  he  should  have  shrunk  from  reference  to  his  career 
as  usher  and  private  tutor. 


VI]       ''I   WEPT  AND  I  BELIEVED''      21 


o 


arrived  in  London  with  news  of  his  mother's 
death.  Then  came  a  letter  from  his  sister  JuHe 
telhng  him  how  much  that  excellent  woman  had 
been  shocked  by  the  sentiments  expressed  in  the 
Essai,  and  exhorting  him  to  come  to  a  better 
mind.  He  did.  ''  I  wept  and  I  believed,"  is  his 
account  of  the  matter.  The  result  of  this  change 
was  seen  in  the  Genie  du  Christianisme.  The  work 
had  indeed  been  begun  earlier  and  laid  aside. 
He  now  applied  himself  to  it  with  new  vigour. 
In  May,  1800,  he  returned  to  France,  bringing  the 
manuscript  with  him.  He  felt,  to  use  his  own 
words,  that  the  publication  of  the  book  would 
decide  his  fate.  But  he  did  not  know  what 
changes  the  book  required  in  order  to  succeed. 
Much  light  was  radiated  on  this  subject  by  Joubert, 
to  whom  Fontanes  had  introduced  him.  And 
Joubert  presented  him  to  Madame  de  Beaumont. 


IV 

Pauhne-Marie-Michelle-Frederique-Ulrique  de 
Beaumont,  who  belonged  to  one  of  the  most 
illustrious  families  of  Auvergne,  was  born  on  the 
15th  of  August,  1768.  She  was  the  j'ounger 
daughter  of  the  Comte  de  Montmorin,  the  well 
known  and  unfortunate  Minister  of  Louis  XVL 
Brought  up,  as  all  French  girls  of  good  famity 
then  were,  in  a  convent,  she  was  told,  when  she 
was  eighteen,  that  a  husband  was  waiting  for  her 


214  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

in  the  person  of  Count  Christophe  de  Beaumont, 
whom  she  had  never  seen.  The  marriage  turned 
out  to  be  most  unhappy,  which  is  not  wonderful 
if,  as  the  Baron  de  Fretilly  alleges,  the  bridegroom 
was  le  phis  mauvais  sujet  de  Paris}  After  a  few 
days  the  young  wife  left  her  husband,  and  returned 
to  her  father,  who  threatened  him  with  a  lettre 
de  cachet  in  case  he  should  molest  her.  In  the  year 
1800  she  divorced  him.  This  proceeding,  while 
effectually  protecting  her  against  him,  did  not,  of 
course,  annul  her  espousals  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  That,  however,  was  in  those 
days,  of  small  importance  to  her,  as  she  seems  to 
have  fallen  into  a  kind  of  agnosticism.-  The 
years  of  Revolution  were  terrible  for  Pauline  de 
Beaumont.  First  her  father  was  slaughtered,  with 
revolting  cruelty,  by  the  Parisian  mob.  Next  her 
mother,  her  brother  Callixte,  and  her  sister  Madame 
de  Luzerne,  were  arrested  in  the  ChS.teau  de  Passy 
— thc}^  had  sought  refuge  there — and  were  carted 
to  Paris,  where  Madame  de  Montmorin  and  Callixte 
were  guillotined,  and  Madame  de  Luzerne  died  of 

^  Souvenirs,  p.  249. 

2  Her  biographer  writes  :  "  Madame  de  Beaumont  had  been 
as  religiously  brought  up  as  one  could  be  in  the  high  society  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  A  second  education  had  then  come  to 
her  through  her  reading,  and  through  the  young  and  distinguished 
friends  who  surrounded  her.  The  confiscations  of  the  Revolution, 
the  triumph  of  the  implacable  enemies  of  her  family,  the  number- 
less misfortunes  with  which  she  was  overwhelmed,  brought  her 
a  third  education.  She  doubted  for  a  time,  according  to  her 
own  expression,  of  divine  justice  and  of  Providence." — La  Comtesse 
de  Beaumont,  par  A.  Jiardoux,  p.  250, 


VI]  JOUBERT  215 

fever.  Pauline  de  Beaumont  insisted  on  accom- 
panying them,  but  was  soon  expelled  from  the 
cart,  as  she  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  death, 
and  was  left  by  the  roadside,  in  the  snow.  A  poor 
peasant,  Dominique  Paquereau,  took  compassion 
on  her,  and  sheltered  her  in  his  hut  for  several 
months.  Two  old  servants  of  her  father's,  husband 
and  wife,  called  Saint-Germain,  found  her  there, 
and  devoted  themselves  to  her  for  the  rest  of  her 
life.  Then  Joubert,  who  lived  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  had  heard  of  her  misfortunes,  sought 
her  out,  and  in  his  wife's  name  and  his  own — he 
had  been  married  the  year  before — offered  her  an 
asylum.  Later  on,  she  availed  herself  of  the  in- 
vitation, and  from  1794  to  the  end  of  the  centur}/, 
she  was  often  an  inmate  of  his  house  at  Villeneuve, 
where  ''  your  green  room  "  was  always  ready  for 
her.  The  subtle  penetration  of  this  refined  and 
sensitive  soul  soon  showed  him  that  he  had  enter- 
tained an  angel  unawares.  In  truth,  notwith- 
standing his  uninviting  exterior  and  eccentric 
habits  of  life,  he  and  she  were  of  the  same  high 
intellectual  and  spiritual  lineage.  He  has  been 
well  called  "  le  plus  fin,  le  plus  delicat,  le  plus 
original  des  penseurs."  These  adjectives  might 
apply  also  to  Pauline  de  Beaumont,  who  had 
besides  the  charm  of  a  highly  bred  woman,  vexed 
with  all  *'  the  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous 
fortune."  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  from 
1794  to  1803  she  was  the  confidante  of  his  deepest 
thoughts,  the  object  of  his  unceasing  solicitude  ; 


216  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

and  she  knew  well  how  to  value  the  grave  and 
tender  friendship  of  a  man  "  who  could  love 
nothing  which  he  did  not  respect,  and  whose 
respect  was  an  honour."  ^ 

In  1799  Madame  de  Beaumont,  who  had  gone 
to  Paris  for  the  business  of  her  divorce,  took  an 
apartment   in   the   Rue   Neuve   de   Luxembourg, 
where  her  friends  gathered  round  her,  on  most 
evenings,  in  her  modest  and  dimly  lighted  salon. 
One  day  Joubert  took  Chateaubriand  there,  and 
presented  him  to  her.     She  was  delighted,  and  more 
than  delighted.     "  The  Enchanter  "  was  the  name 
which  Joubert  had  bestowed  upon  Chateaubriand. 
Pauline  de  Beaumont  altogether  succumbed  to  his 
enchantments.     To  see  him,  to  listen  to  him,  was 
for  her  to  worship  him.     She  confessed  it  in  her 
inimitable  way,  after  hearing  him  read  some  pages 
of  his  Rene  :    "  Le  style  de  M.  de  Chateaubriand 
me  fait  eprouver  une  espece  d'amour ;   il  joue  du 
clavecin  sur  toutes  mes  fibres."     She  herself  dwelt 
much  among  her  own  thoughts,  but  Chateaubriand 
tells  us  "  Ouand  une  voix  amie  appelait  au  dehors 
cette    intelligence    solitaire,    elle    venait    et    vous 
disait  quelques  paroles  du  ciel."     A  new  thing  had 
come  into  her  existence  :    "la  divine  douceur  de 
I'amour  spontane,  naturel,  irresistible  "  ;   and  now 

1  M.  Bardoux  writes  :  "  Madame  dc  Beaumont  doit  beaucoup 
k  Joubert ;  il  lui  doit  beaucoup  aussi  :  et  cet  empire  qu'il  cxer^ait 
sur  les  autres,  une  femme  qu'un  souffle  pouvait  renverser,  un 
ctrc  tout  de  grace,  de  faiblcsse,  et  de  langucur,  rexer9a,  a  son 
tour,  sur  Ic  penscur  ingcnicux  ct  fort." — La  Comtcssc  dc  Beaumont , 
p.  210. 


VI]  PAULINE  DE  BEAUMONT         217 

at  last  she  was  to  find  life  worth  living — the  little 
that  remained  to  her  of  life.  Chateaubriand  was 
then  in  the  full  bloom  of  early  manhood,  wielding 
that  singular  personal  charm  which  he  never  alto- 
gether lost,  even  in  extreme  old  age,  with  his 
Olympian  head,  his  eyes  full  of  mysterious  meaning 
like  the  sea  of  whose  colour  they  were,  and  his 
irresistible  smile — a  smile,  it  was  said,  which 
belonged  only  to  him,  and  to  Napoleon.  She, 
still  young,  with  tender,  grave  almond  eyes,  and 
a  sylph-like  figure,  though  not  strictly  beautiful, 
fascinated  Chateaubriand  as  instantaneously  as 
he  fascinated  her.  As  M.  Beaunier  puts  it :  *'  II 
aima  Pauline  de  Beaumont,  certes  imparfaitement ; 
il  I'aima  de  son  mieux."  ^  She  threw  herself,  with 
all  the  ardour  of  her  impulsive  temperament,  into 
his  literary  work  ;  her  great  delight  was  to  minister 
to  it.  He  resolved  to  publish  Atala  separately 
from  and  in  advance  of  the  Genie — it  originally 
formed  part  of  that  work.  Madame  de  Beaumont 
was  full  of  anxiety  about  its  success.  Joubert, 
who,  as  M.  Bardoux  finety  says,  loved  her  so  well 
that  he  loved  Chateaubriand  also,  calmed  her 
fears.  "  The  book,"  he  told  her,  "  is  like  no  other  : 
it  has  a  charm,  a  talisman  which  it  owes  to  the 
fingers  of  the  workman."  Joubert's  judgment  was 
soon  amply  vindicated,  and  Chateaubriand  sud- 
denly found  himself  famous  not  only  in  France, 
but  throughout  Europe,  English,  Italian,  German, 

^  This  reminds  me  of  a  profound  remark  of  Bourget — "  Pour 
les  hommes  la  vanite  fait  le  fond  de  presque  tous  les  amours." 


218  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

and  Spanish  translations  of  Atala  quickly  appearing. 
And  now  the  great  thing  was  to  finish  and  publish 
the  Genie.  But  for  that,  as  Pauline  de  Beaumont 
saw,  quiet  was  necessary.  Inspiration  would  not 
come  to  Chateaubriand  in  a  Parisian  crowd.  She 
herself  provided  the  refuge  required.  She  took 
for  seven  months  a  house  at  Savigny.  Thither 
she  and  Chateaubriand  betook  themselves.  Pauline 
de  Beaumont's  delight  was  unbounded.  "  I  shall 
hear  the  sound  of  his  voice  every  morning,"  she 
wrote  to  her  friend  Madame  de  Ventimille  :  *'  I 
shall  see  him  at  work."  "  Her  enthusiasm,"  her 
biographer  writes,  "  was  as  boundless  as  her 
tenderness.  And  Chateaubriand  had  never  been 
more  gay,  more  boyish.  They  were  like  two 
truants  running  away."  ^ 

In  that  still  retreat  the  Genie  was  finished, 
and  much  that  is  best  in  it  is  unquestionably  due 
to  Pauline  de  Beaumont's  -  keen  perception, 
delicate  sympathy,  and  subtle  intellect.  "  I 
wish,"  she  wrote  to  Joubert,  "  he  had  critics  bolder 
and  more  enlightened  than  me  ;  for  I  am  under 
a  spell,  and  am  much  less  severe  than  he  is  :  it 
is  detestable."  Her  biographer  observes  that  it 
was  not  detestable  at  all,  since  it  was  just  the 
spell  cast  by  him  upon  his  tender  companion 
which  made  him  write  his  most  eloquent  pages  ; 

^  Bardoux,  La  Comtesse  de  Beaumont,  p.  317. 

2  M.  Beaunier  writes — and  I  agree  with  him — "  J'attribue  ^ 
Pauline  de  Beaumont  la  delicate  et  la  m61ancolique  poesie,  qui  est 
lo  plus  subtil  parfum  du  Genie  de  Christianismc." — Trois  Amies 
de  Chateaubriand,  p.  76. 


VI]     LE  GENIE  DU   CHRISTIANISME    219 

that  liers  was  that  voice  divine  of  which  every 
poet  has  need.  The  time  went  on  all  too  quickly 
for  them  both.  Chateaubriand  was  in  a  fever  of 
composition.  **  He  is  working  like  a  nigger,"  she 
wrote  to  Joubert.  She  sat  at  his  table  copying 
his  extracts,  arranging  his  notes,  making  her  diffi- 
dent suggestions.  It  is  notable  as  a  sign  of  the 
times  that  no  one  seems  to  have  been  shocked  by 
this  irregular  menage.  Joubert,  who  with  his  wife 
and  child  came  to  see  them  occasionally,  rejoicing 
in  the  happiness  of  a  woman  so  deeply  interesting 
to  him,  blessed  it  and  approved  it,  if  not  with  a 
text,  at  all  events  with  an  aphorism.  Chateau- 
briand's sister  Lucile,  now  Madame  de  Caux, 
Madame  de  Chateaubriand's  greatest  friend,  came 
too  ;  and  became  the  greatest  friend  of  Madame 
de  Beaumont  also.     "  So  passed  the  days." 

When  the  seven  months  at  Savigny  had  ex- 
pired, Madame  de  Beaumont  returned  to  her 
apartment  in  the  Rue  Neuve  de  Luxembourg, 
where  her  friends  gathered  around  her  once  more. 
The  Genie  du  Chrislianisme  appeared  on  the  14th 
of  April,  1802,  in  five  octavo  volumes.  The 
moment  was  opportune.  Bonaparte  had  con- 
cluded his  Concordat  with  the  Holy  See.  The 
Churches,  long  closed  and  desecrated,  were  opened, 
and  purged  from  their  defilements,  and  Mass  was 
again  said  in  them.  Sensible  people,  throughout 
France,  were  sick  alike  of  atheism  and  of  the 
fantastic  tricks  played  by  various  sectaries  who 
had  tried  to  provide  substitutes  for  the  Catholic 


220  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

rites.  The  first  edition  of  the  Genie  was  exhausted 
in  less  than  a  week.  The  second  was  dedicated 
to  the  First  Consul.  Chateaubriand  was  absent 
a  great  deal  from  Paris  in  those  days  ;  in  Avignon, 
where  he  had  to  take  proceedings  in  respect  of  a 
pirated  edition  of  the  Genie,  in  Brittany  to  see 
Madame  de  Chateaubriand — he  had  not  seen  her 
for  ten  years — and  elsewhere.^  Meanwhile  Pauline 
de  Beaumont  was  ill  and  unhappy.  "  La  societe 
m'ennuie,"  she  wrote,  "  il  n'y  a  plus  qu'une  societe 
pour  moi ;  la  pauvre  Hirondelle  -  est  dans  une 
sorte  d'engourdissement."  She  was,  in  fact,  slowly 
dying  of  pulmonary  trouble. 

The  success  of  the  Genie  was  doubtless  largely 
due  to  its  intense  vitality.  It  was  the  true 
transcript  of  the  author's  mind,  or,  in  Madame 
Recamier's  words,  "  a  revelation  of  himself."  ^ 
It  certainly  took  the  world  by  storm,  and  secured 
for  Chateaubriand  at  once  a  foremost,  I  might 
say  the  foremost,  place  among  contemporary  men 
of  letters  in  France  ^ — a  place  which  he  never  lost 

1  "  Elsewhere."  At  Madame  de  Custine's  Chateau  de  Fer- 
vaques,  among  other  places.  This  very  attractive  woman  had 
thrown  herself  at  Chateaubriand's  head,  and  he,  like  a  lady 
in  one  of  Oscar  Wilde's  plays,  could  resist  everything  except 
temptation. 

2  "  The  Swallow  "  was  a  pet  name  given  her  by  her  friends. 

^  "  Le  lendemain  elle  [Madame  Recamier]  s'cmbarqua  pour 
La  Haye,  et  mit  trois  jours  a  faire  une  traversee  de  seize  hcurcs. 
liUc  m'a  racontce  que  pendant  ces  jours,  melcs  de  tempctcs,  cllc 
lit  de  suite  Le  Genie  dii  Christianisme  ;  jc  lui  fus  levule,  scion  sa 
bienveillante  expression." — Mcmoircs  d'Outre-Tombe, vol.  iv.p.  397. 

■•  M.  Giraud  has  well  expressed  this  :  "  Si  jamais  ecrivain  a 
dn  ]ircmicr  coup  s6duit  et  ravi  ct  conqnis  Ic  public,  c'cst  lui  : 


VI]  WHAT  THE  GENIE  DID  221 

as  long  as  he  lived.  Moreover,  it  accomplished 
his  object,  which  was  to  show  that  the  Christian 
religion  was  the  source  of  many  most  precious 
elements  of  modern  civilization.  The  book  is  not, 
what  it  is  often  called,  an  apology  for  Christianity. 
It  is  rather,  as  the  sub-title  of  the  first  edition 
indicates,  an  exposition  of  certain  beauties  ^  of 
that  faith,  ver}^  generally  ignored  or  overlooked 
when  Chateaubriand  wrote.  It  is  a  vindication 
of  the  religious  sentiment  in  man  as  being,  like 
the  sentiment  of  love  or  art,  an  ultimate  irreducible 
fact  of  our  nature.  It  is  really  a  poem.  Joubert's 
mellow  wisdom  anticipated  its  mission  in  words 
which  are  worth  quoting.  "  We  shall  see  what  a 
poet  will  arise  to  purify  France  from  the  mess  of 
the  Directorate,  even  as  Epimenides,  with  his 
sacred  rites  and  poems,  purified  Athens  from  the 
plague."  This  is  precisely  what  the  Genie  did. 
It  addressed  to  a  frivolous,  sentimental,  worldly 
generation  just  the  considerations  most  likely  to 
weigh    with    them.     "  What    an    awakening !  " 

et  cette  royaut6,  sans  precedent,  devait  durer  pres  d'un  demi- 
siecle.  II  n'est  pas  un  Maitre,  il  est  le  Maitre." — Chateaubriand, 
Avant-propos,  p.  6. 

^  Le  Genie  du  Chvistianisme,  ou  Beautes  de  la  religion  Chretienne. 
The  title  which  Chateaubriand  thought  originally  of  giving  to  his 
book  was  "  Des  Beautes  poetiques  et  morales  de  la  religion 
Chretienne,  et  de  sa  superiorite  sur  tons  les  autres  cultes  de  la 
terre."  On  the  first  page  of  every  volume  of  the  original  edition 
was  the  following  epigraph  taken  from  Montesquieu's  Esprit  des 
lois  : — "  Chose  admirable  !  La  religion  chretienne,  qui  ne  semble 
avoir  d'objet  que  la  felicity  de  I'autre  vie,  fait  encore  notre 
bonheur  dans  celle-ci." 


222  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [cii. 

writes  Madame  Hamelin  in  one  of  her  letters  ; 
"  what  a  clatter  of  tongues,  what  palpitations  of 
the  heart  !  *  What  !  is  that  Christianity  ?  '  we  all 
exclaimed.  *  Why,  Christianity  is  perfectly  de- 
lightful !  '  "  A  revolution  was  worked  in  the 
dominant  sentiment  of  French  society,  and,  to 
use  Talleyrand's  mot,  impiety  became  the  greatest 
of  indiscretions.  But  the  success  of  the  book  in 
the  salons  was  the  least  of  its  triumphs.  It 
brought  back  into  French  life  and  hterature  what 
may  be  called  a  Christian  note  ;  it  repaired,  and 
set  flowing  anew,  fountains  of  emotion  which  had 
been  supposed  to  be  ruined  for  ever.  Am  I  asked, 
Well,  does  any  one  read  it  now  ?  I  suppose,  not- 
withstanding the  fine  things  in  it,  few  do,  except 
professed  men  of  letters.  The  generation  for  which 
it  was  written  has  long  passed  away.  We  look 
at  things  with  other  eyes.  The  book  did  its  work 
— a  beneficent  work — for  the  age  to  which  it  was 
addressed.  To  our  age  it  has  no  message.  For 
us  it  is  a  document  of  history. 

The  Genie  had  its  effect  upon  Bonaparte.  It 
led  him  to  offer  to  its  author  the  post  of  Secretary 
of  Legation  at  Rome.  Chateaubriand,  after  some 
hesitation,  accepted  the  appointment,  and  set  out 
to  take  it  up  in  May,  1803.  In  September,  Madame 
de  Beaumont  followed  him  thither.  The  doctors 
had  sent  her  to  Mont-Dore,  where  she  became 
worse  ;  she  could  not  rest  there  ;  so  she  deter- 
mined to  go  to  Rome  that,  at  all  events,  she  might 
see  Chateaubriand  once  more.     It  was  a  terrible 


VI]  PAULINE  DE  BEAU  MONT  S  DEATH  223 

journey,  in  those  days,  for  a  woman  in  her  deUcate, 
her  moribund  state.  Her  excitement  kept  her 
up  ;  but  her  great  fear,  as  she  expressed  it,  was 
that  the  drop  of  oil  which  still  remained  in  her 
lamp  of  life  should  burn  out  too  soon.  At  Florence, 
Chateaubriand  met  her  ;  she  had  just  strength 
enough  left  to  smile,  she  writes.  At  Rome  he 
installed  her  in  a  little  house  at  the  foot  of  the 
Pincian  Hill,  standing  in  an  orange  garden.  For 
a  day  or  two,  she  felt  better.  The  Pope,  and  the 
Cardinals  resident  in  Rome,  sent  to  inquire  after 
her,  and  the  Roman  nobility  followed  their  example 
— a  curious  instance  of  the  tolerant  spirit  then 
prevailing,  for  her  relations  with  Chateaubriand 
were  perfectly  well  known.  The  doctors  told  him 
that  nothing  but  a  miracle  could  save  her.  And 
soon  the  end  came.  Chateaubriand,  weeping, 
broke  the  news  to  her.  She  took  his  hand  and 
said  ''  Vous  etes  un  enfant.  Est-ce  que  vous  ne 
vous  y  attendiez  pas  ?  "  She  told  him  to  send  for 
the  Abbe  Bonnevie,^  the  Chaplain  of  the  French 
Embassy,  to  whom  she  made  her  confession,  and 
w^ho  was  greatly  edified  by  her  patience  and  good 
dispositions.^    When  Chateaubriand  returned  she 

^  M,  Bire  tells  us  :  "  Une  etroite  intimite  s'etablit  entre 
I'auteur  du  Genie  dit  Chrisiianisme  et  le  tr^s  spirituel  abbe,  qui 
ne  tarda  pas  a  conquerir  I'estime  et  I'affection  de  Madame  de 
Chateaubriand.  Jusqu'a  leur  mort  il  resta  I'un  de  leurs  plus 
fideles  amis." — Memoires  d'Outre-Tombe,  vol.  ii.  p.  335  note. 

2  M.  Seche  observes  :  "  N 'est-ce  pas  aux  pieds  d'une  jeune 
paienne  que  fut  ecrit  le  Genie  du  Chrisiianisme,  et  n'est-ce  pas 
aussi  par  la  vertu  de  ce  livre  que  cette  jeune  lemme  mouriit 
chr6tienne  ?  " — Hortense  Allart  de  Meritens,  Preface,  p.  11. 


224  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

said  "  Eh  !  bien,  etes-vous  content  de  moi  ?  " 
Later  on  in  the  day  they  brought  her  the  last 
sacraments  with  the  solemnity  and  pomp — and 
crowd — which  accompanied  them  at  Rome,  in 
those  days.  She  saw,  without  the  least  tremor, 
"  le  formidable  appareil  de  la  mort,"  and,  then, 
when  she  found  herself  alone  with  Chateaubriand, 
they  had  their  last  talk — of  the  past,  with  its 
tender  memories,  of  their  plans  for  the  future, 
never  to  be  realized.  She  begged  him  to  promise 
her  to  take  up  his  married  life  with  Madame  de 
Chateaubriand,  and  he  gave  his  promise.  They 
buried  her  in  the  Church  of  San  Luigi  dei  Frances!, 
Chateaubriand  being  the  chief  mourner.  In  a 
most  touching  letter,^  giving  an  account  of  her 
last  moments,  he  begged  of  M.  de  Luzerne — the 
husband  of  her  dead  sister — two  favours  :  that  he 
might  be  allowed  to  raise  a  monument  to  her,  and 
that  he  might  take  into  his  own  service  the  two 
Saint-Germains  who  had  served  her  so  faithfully, 
and  her  father  before  her.  Both  requests  were 
readily  granted.  The  bas  relief  -  in  San  Luigi 
bears  these  among  other  words :  "  F.  A.  de 
Chateaubriand  a  eleve  ce  monument  a  sa  memoire." 

^  Joubcrt  wrote  of  it :  "  Rien  au  mondc  est  plus  propre  h 
faire  couler  Ics  larmes  que  ce  recit.  Cependant,  il  est  consolant ; 
on  adore  le  bon  gar9on  en  le  lisant,  et  quant  a  clle,  on  sent  pour 
peu  qu'on  I'ait  connue  qu'elle  eut  donn6  dix  ans  de  vie  pour 
mourir  si  paisiblemcnt  et  pour  ctre  ainsi  regrctt^e." 

-  In  erecting  it  Chateaubriand  spent  all  the  money  he  had — 
and  more.  He  mentions  in  one  of  his  letters  that  it  has  cost  him 
about  nine  thousand  francs,  and  that  he  had  sold  everything  to 
pay  a  part  of  this  sum. 


VI]  DESOLATION  OF  HEART  225 

The  graceful  bit  of  statuary  has  already  suffered 
from  the  hand  of  time.  But  another  monument, 
which  time  cannot  touch,  has  been  dedicated  to 
her  by  Chateaubriand  in  some  exquisitely  tender 
and  pathetic  pages  of  the  Memoires  d'Outrc-Tomhe. 


V 

Chateaubriand's  devoted  attendance  upon 
Madame  de  Beaumont — it  was  on  the  4th  of 
November,  1803,  that  she  died — had  won  for  him 
in  Rome  general  sympath}^  to  which  he  was  by  no 
means  indifferent.  But  he  was  anxious  to  quit  scenes 
so  full  of  death  for  him.     He  writes  in  his  Memoires : 

"  No  one  knows  what  desolation  of  heart  is  till  he  has 
been  left  to  wander  alone  in  places  hitherto  frequented  by 
another  who  has  made  the  delight  of  his  life.  You  search  for 
her  everywhere,  and  you  find  her  not  ;  she  speaks  to  you, 
smiles  on  you,  is  by  your  side  ;  all  that  she  has  worn  or  touched 
brings  back  her  image,  there  is  only  a  transparent  curtain 
between  you,  but  so  heavy  that  you  cannot  lift  it.  .  .  .  I 
strayed  abandoned  among  the  ruins  of  Rome.  The  first  time 
I  went  out  everything  seemed  changed  to  me.  I  did  not 
recognize  the  trees,  the  monuments,  or  the  sky.  I  wandered 
about  the  Campagna,  and  by  waterfalls  and  aqueducts.  .  .  . 
I  came  back  to  the  Eternal  City,  which  had  added  to  so  many 
past  existences,  one  more  spent  life.  And  by  constantly  fre- 
quenting the  solitudes  of  the  Tiber  they  imprinted  themselves 
so  vividly  on  my  memory  that  I  reproduced  them  correctly 
enough  in  my  letter  to  M.  de  Fontanes."  ^ 


^  This  celebrated  letter  on  the  Campagna  Romana  is  dated 
the  loth  of  January,  1804.  Sainte-Bcuve  reckons  it  the  high- 
water  mark  of  French  prose  :   "  En  prose  11  n'y  a  rien  au  dela." 

0 


22QA  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

It  was  this  staunch  friend  who  had  procured 
his  nomination  as  French  Minister  to  the  Uttlc 
repubhc  of  the  Valais.  And  on  the  2ist  of  January, 
1804,  he  left  Rome  for  Paris,  where  he  made 
preparations  for  taking  up  his  new  post.  Madame 
de  Chateaubriand  was  to  accompany  him.  Her 
fortune  had  disappeared,  and  the  arrangement 
that  she  should  join  her  husband  was  opportune 
for  her  as  for  him.  But  they  never  went  to  the 
Valais.  Chateaubriand  shall  himself  explain  the 
reason  why  : 

"  On  the  2 1st  of  March  I  rose  early  on  account  of  a  souvenir 
sad  and  dear  to  me.  In  the  garden  of  the  house  built  by 
M.  de  Montmorin  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Plumet — sold 
during  the  Revolution — Madame  de  Beaumont,  then  little 
more  than  a  child,  had  planted  a  cypress,  which  she  would 
sometimes  point  out  to  me  when  we  passed  it  in  our  walks. 
It  was  to  this  cypress,  of  which  I  alone  knew  the  origin  and 
the  history,  that  I  went  to  say  Adieu.  It  still  exists,  but  in 
a  languishing  state,  and  scarcely  reaches  the  height  of  the 
window  under  which  a  vanished  hand  had  loved  to  tend  it. 
I  can  distinguish  this  poor  tree  from  three  or  four  others  of 
its  kind  ;  it  seems  to  know  me  and  to  be  glad  when  I  draw 
near  it :  a  melancholy  breeze  inclines  its  yellow  head  a  little 
towards  me,  and  it  murmurs  something  to  the  window  of  the 
forsaken  chamber  :  mysterious  communications  between  us 
which  will  cease  when  one  or  the  other  shall  have  fallen.  My 
pious  tribute  paid,  I  went  down  the  boulevard  and  the 
esplanade  of  the  Invalides,  crossed  the  bridge  Louis  XIV.  and 
the  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  and  went  out  by  the  grille  which 
now  opens  on  the  Rue  de  Rivoli.  There,  between  eleven  and 
twelve  o'clock,  I  heard  a  man  and  a  woman  crying  official 
news  which  caused  the  passers-by  to  stop,  suddenly  petrified 
by  the  words  :  "  Judi^menl  of  the  Special  Military  Commission 
assembled  at  Vincennes  xvhich  condemns  to  the  petialiy  of  death 


VI]  MURDER  OF  THE  DUG  D'ENGHIEN  227 

Louis  Antoine  Henri  dc  Bourbon,  horn  the  2nd  of  August,  1772, 
at  Chaiiiilly."  The  cry  fell  on  my  ears  like  thunder  :  it 
changed  my  life,  just  as  it  changed  Napoleon's,  I  went  back 
to  my  hotel.  I  said  to  Madame  de  Chateaubriand,  "  The 
Due  d'Enghien  has  been  shot."  I  sat  down  at  a  table  and 
began  to  write  my  resignation.  Madame  de  Chateaubriand 
did  not  oppose  me,  and  looked  on  with  great  courage  while 
I  wrote.  She  was  well  aware  of  my  danger.  The  trials  of 
General  Moreau  and  of  Georges  Cadoudal  were  proceeding  : 
the  lion  had  tasted  blood  :  it  was  not  the  moment  for  pro- 
voking him.  M.  Clausel  de  Coussergues  then  came  in  :  he 
too  had  heard  the  news.  He  found  me  pen  in  hand.  Out 
of  consideration  for  Madame  de  Chateaubriand  he  made  me 
strike  out  of  my  letter  certain  angry  phrases  :  and  it  went  to 
the  Foreign  Office." 

The  substance  of  the  letter,  couched  in  the  usual 
official  language,  was  that  Madame  de  Chateau- 
briand's health  compelled  her  husband  to  resign 
the  appointment  to  which  he  had  been  designated, 
and  that  he  begged  the  Foreign  Minister  to  submit 
"  ces  motifs  douloureux  "  to  the  First  Consul.^  It 
appears  to  me  that  Chateaubriand,  at  this  moment 
of  his  career,  presents  a  spectacle  which  may  well 
make  us  pause.  The  effect  of  the  murder  of  the 
Due  d'Enghien  was  to  strike  terror  into  "  the  good 

^  Mr.  Gribble  (p.  128)  speaks  of  this  letter  as  "  disappointing" 
because  "  it  does  not,  as  might  have  been  expected,  hurl  indignant 
defiance  at  a  Government  guilty  of  a  judicial  crime,"  but  "  merely 
states,  untruly,  that  Madame  de  Chateaubriand  is  ill."  I  wonder 
whether  if  Mr.  Gribble  had  been  in  Chateaubriand's  place  he 
would  have  hurled  "  indignant  defiance  "  at  Napoleon.  I  am 
sure  I  should  not  have  done  so.  It  is  a  proceeding  which  would 
have  been  good  and  congruous  for  St.  John  Baptist,  but  Chateau- 
briand was  merely  an  official  resigning  an  appointment ;  and 
assuredly  the  pretext — one  of  the  flimsiest — for  his  resignation 
deceived  no  one.  Napoleon  least  of  all. 


228  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

society  "  of  Paris.  To  quote  the  words  of  Madame 
de  Chateaubriand,  in  her  Cahiers :  "As  soon  as 
the  hero  was  changed  into  an  assassin,  the  royahsts 
precipitated  themselves  into  his  ante-chamber." 
Alone,  with  one  exception,  among  Frenchmen,^ 
Chateaubriand  declined  to  be  associated  with  the 
author  of  so  great  a  crime.  The  "  vultus  instantis 
tyranni  "  had  no  terror  for  him.  It  had  much 
for  his  friends.  Madame  Bacciochi,  Napoleon's 
sister,  who  took  great  interest  in  him,  burst  into 
loud  laments.  "  M.  de  Fontanes,"  Chateaubriand 
writes,  *'  became  almost  mad  with  fear  at  first,  and 
gave  me  up  for  shot."  But  things  passed  quietly. 
Talleyrand,  whether  from  design  or  from  indiffe- 
rence, kept  the  letter  for  two  da3^s  before  sub- 
mitting it  to  the  First  Consul,  who  merely  observed 
"  Very  well  "  (C'est  hon).  I  consider  that  in  this 
transaction  we  have,  so  to  speak,  the  keynote  of 
Chateaubriand's  public  career.  Long  years  after- 
wards he  wrote  : 

"  Grace  k  Dieu  je  n'ai  jamais  eu  besoin  qu'on  me  donnat 
des  conseils  d'honneur  :  ma  vie  a  ete  une  suite  de  sacrifices 
qui  ne  m'ont  jamais  ete  commandes  par  personne  :  en  fait 
de  devoir  j'ai  1 'esprit  primesautier."  " 


^  Louis  the  Eighteenth  returned  to  the  King  of  Spain  the 
Order  of  the  Golden  Fleece  with  which  Bonaparte  also  had  been 
invested,  declaring  that  there  could  be  nothing  in  common  between 
him  and  so  great  a  criminal. 

*  M6moires  d'Outre-Tombe,  vol.  v.  p.  172. 


VI]      CHATEAUBRIAND'S   WRITINGS     229 


VI 

For  ten  years,  public  life  was  to  be  closed  to 
Chateaubriand.  He  had  to  fall  back,  as  he  says, 
on  his  literary  career.  In  the  year  1806-7  he  made 
his  Eastern  journey  which  was  to  supply  him  with 
materials  for  his  Itineraire  de  Paris  a  Jerusalem, 
and  with  local  colour  for  Les  Martyrs.  His  ex- 
pedition ended,  as  all  the  world  knows,  in  Spain, 
and  in  his  meeting  there  Madame  de  Mouchy, 
concerning  whom  those  who  desire  information 
will  find  it  in  M.  Baunier's  Trois  Amies  de  Chateau- 
briand, or  in  Mr.  Gribble's  volume.  On  his  return 
to  France  he  became  the  proprietor  of  the  Mercttre, 
and  published  in  it  an  article  on,  or  rather  apropos 
of,  a  volume  of  travels  in  Spain,  in  the  course  of 
which  he  took  occasion  to  make  some  reflections 
on  Nero  and  Tacitus.  Napoleon  construed  them 
as  an  allegory  reflecting  on  himself.  The  Merciire 
was  confiscated,  and  Chateaubriand's  friends 
thought  him  fortunate  in  escaping  prison.  It  was 
in  1807  that  he  bought  a  rustic  country  house — it 
is  described  as  "  maison  de  jardinier  " — in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Sceaux,  expending  upon  it  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  money  brought  him  b}^ 
his  books.  He  occupied  himself  much  with  plant- 
ing and  gardening,  and  found,  as  he  tells  us,  great 
delight  in  that  occupation.  Here  he  wrote  Les 
Martyrs,  accounted  the  most  finished  of  his  works  ; 
the  Itineraire,  which  unquestionably  contains  some 


230  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [cH. 

of  his  finest  passages  ;  and  Le  Dernier  des  Ahen- 
cerages.  And  here  he  began  his  Memoir es,  carrying 
out  a  resolution  which  he  had  made  in  Rome  in 
1803,  and  communicated  to  his  friend  Joubert,  as 
we  shall  see  presentty. 

In  what  I  have  still  to  write  about  Chateau- 
briand I  shall  use  chiefly  these  Memoires.  I  regard 
them  as  by  far  the  most  important  work  which 
he  has  left  behind  him.  And  he  thought  so  too. 
They  are  not,  properh^  speaking,  confessions. 
Chateaubriand's  account  of  them  is  "  j'ecris  princi- 
palement  pour  rendre  compte  de  moi-meme  a 
moi-meme."  ^  But  of  course  they  were  intended 
for  future  generations,  too,  and  in  his  letter  to 
Joubert,  just  now  referred  to,  he  tells  him  : 

"  I  will  not  trouble  posterity  with  the  details  of  1113^  frailty. 
I  will  relate  of  myself  only  what  is  in  accordance  with  the 
dignity  of  man  and — I  dare  to  say  so — with  the  elevation  of 
m}^  heart.  One  should  put  before  the  world  only  what  is 
beautiful  {bean).  To  reveal  of  one's  existence  only  what  may 
lead  our  fellow-men  to  noble  and  generous  sentiments  is  not 
to  lie  unto  God." 

Elsewhere  he  says,  "  I  have  let  my  whole  life 
pass  into  these  Memoires,"  and  I  agree  with  M. 
Giraud  that  for  anyone  who  has  eyes  there  exists 
no  more  sincere  autobiography.  Further,  as  that 
accomplished  critic  remarks  : 

"  All  liis  work  leads  up  {ahouiit)  to  tiiis  book,  and  without 
this  book  his  work  would  remain  incomplete  and  in  part 
unexplained.     He  felt  that  deeply  :   hence  his  quite  paternal 


^  MS.  of  1826.     Quoted  by  Giraud,  Chaieaiibriavd  p.  30. 


VI]  LES  MEMOIRES  D' OUT  RE-TOM  BE  231 

tenderness  for  the  poor  orphan  destined  to  remain  on  earth 
after  him  :  hence  the  care  which  he  took  in  writing  it,  the 
incessant  retouches  which  he  gave  it,  the  unquiet  curiosity 
with  which  he  tried  to  foresee  and  to  shape  its  fortunes.  .  .  . 
It  was  more  than  a  mere  book  for  liim  :  it  was  a  part  of  liim- 
self,  the  dearest,  the  most  intimate.  A  part  ?  It  was  him- 
self :  it  was  his  ego  which  he  had  cast  into  these  pages  :  tlie 
mysteries  of  his  heart— his  *  inexpHcable  heart ' — he  had  here, 
if  not  unveiled,  at  all  events  indicated  to  those  who  have 
eyes  :  the  incomparable  gifts  of  his  genius  are  here  profusely 
scattered.  ...  It  was  not  then  in  vain  that  for  more  than 
thirty  years  Chateaubriand  had  patiently,  lovingly,  retouched 
and  fixed  the  image  of  himself  which  he  would  leave  to  his 
contemporaries,  and  to  posterity.  The  image  is  flattered, 
doubtless,  but  less  than  has  been  alleged.  And  it  would  be 
easy,  with  a  little  ingenuity,  to  extract  from  the  Memoires 
a  veritable  indictment  of  their  author.*  The  truth  is  that 
they  are  a  sufficiently  faithful  portrait, — and  that  when  we 
judge  them,  we  may  judge  Chateaubriand  and  his  works."  ^ 


^  So  M.  de  Lacharriere  observes :  "  Chateaubriand  s'est 
calomnie  lui-meme  en  exagerant  certains  gestes  :  il  a  montre  a 
nu  certains  cotes  de  son  caractdre  choquants  pour  les  idees 
actuelles,  mais  qui  pour  les  contemporains  se  voilaient  d'unc 
apparence  plus  sympathique.'' — Les  Cahiers  de  Madame  de 
Chateaubriand,  Intro,  p.  x. 

2  Chateaubriand,  p.  34.  By  a  cruel  irony  of  fate  these  Mimoires 
were  given  to  the  world  in  a  way  utterly  remote  from  Chateau- 
briand's design,  and  most  calculated  to  defeat  his  purpose.  His 
pecuniary  necessities,  in  his  old  age,  obliged  him  to  sell  them  to 
what  I  suppose  we  may  call  a  small  company,  who  agreed  to  pay 
him  an  annuity  of  20,000  francs  during  his  life„  and  one  of  12,000 
francs  to  Madame  de  Chateaubriand  in  case  she  should  survive 
him,  and  to  publish  them  after  his  death.  In  breach  of  this 
engagement  they  began  to  publish  them  some  months  before  his 
death,  and — horror  of  horrors  ! — as  a  feuilleton  in  the  Presse 
newspaper.  This  prostitution  to  the  canaille  of  what  was  so 
deeply  cherished  by,  and  so  sacred  to,  him  was  the  last  great 
grief  of  his  life,  and  doubtless  hastened  his  end. 


232  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

And  that  is  for  me  the  special  value  of  these 
Memoires.  They  are  the  abstract  and  brief 
chronicle  of  his  life  and  times  by  a  great  genius, 
who  was  one  of  the  few  honest  men  then  found  in 
French  public  affairs.  But  their  interest  is  almost 
inexhaustible.  Carried  on  by  the  magic  of  Chateau- 
briand's style,  one  reads  and  re-reads  pages  until 
one  knows  them  pretty  well  by  heart.  They  place 
before  us,  as  in  sunlight,  the  story  which  the  author 
has  to  tell,  and  the  moral  signification  of  the  story. 
Chateaubriand  had  that  prophetic  vision  which  is 
the  prerogative  of  poets.  He  sees  through  the  veil 
of  phenomena  to  the  causes  determining  them,  and 
moralizes  like  a  chorus  in  a  Greek  tragedy.  And 
while  he  deals  with  these  high  themes,  he  scatters 
by  the  way  literary  judgments  of  the  greatest  value. 
My  space  does  not  allow  me  to  dwell  on  them,  but 
I  will  give,  by  way  of  specimen,  three  that  happen 
to  meet  my  eye  in  the  second  volume  of  the 
Memoires,  which  chances  to  be  open  before  me. 
Where  shall  we  find  a  more  pregnant  dictum  than 
this:  "L'Angleterre  est  toute  Shakespeare"?  Pro- 
foundly true  again  is  his  estimate  of  the  Byronic 
school :  "  Lord  Byron  a  ouvert  une  deplorable 
ecole  :  je  presume  qu'il  a  ete  aussi  desole  des  Child 
Harolds  auxquels  il  a  donne  naissance  que  je  le 
suis  des  Renes  qui  re  vent  autour  de  moi."  And 
how  admirable  is  his  criticism  of  Sir  Walter  Scott ! 
While  fully  recognizing  the  high  gifts  of  the  author 
of  the  Waverlcy  Novels,  he  writes  :  "  II  me  semble 
avoir  crce  un  g^nic  faux  :  il  a  pervcrti  Ic  roman  et 


VI]  LOUIS  THE  EIGHTEENTH  233 

riiistoire  :  le  romancier  s'est  mis  a  faire  des  romans 
historiques,  etrhistoriendeshistoires  romanesques." 
The  wise  Duke  of  Weimar  prophesied  of  the 
domination  of  Napoleon,  when  he  seemed  the  fore- 
most man  of  all  the  world  :  "  It  is  unjust  :  it  can- 
not last."  It  lasted  till  1814,  Two  years  before, 
Chateaubriand  had  said,  "  Napoleon's  fate  will  be 
that  of  Crassus  :  the  Russians  will  retire  before 
him  like  the  Parthians,  and  this  will  be  the  rock  on 
which  his  power  will  split."  On  the  31st  of  March, 
1814,  the  Allies  entered  Paris.  A  few  days  after- 
wards Chateaubriand  published  his  pamphlet  De 
Bonaparte  et  des  Bourbons,  a  scathing  indictment 
of  the  Empire  and  all  its  works,  and  an  earnest 
plea  for  the  old  royal  house.  "  I  flung  it,"  he  said, 
*'  into  the  balance  :  and  all  the  world  knows  what 
an  effect  it  had."  Louis  the  Eighteenth  confessed 
it  had  been  of  as  much  service  to  him  as  an  addi- 
tional army  corps.  But  to  say  that  was  to  say 
too  little.  Then  set  in  the  scramble  for  offices 
under  the  restored  monarchy,  from  which  Chateau- 
briand proudly  kept  aloof.  His  friends  did  what 
they  could  for  him,  and  he  was  nominated  to  the 
Swedish  Embass}^  with  the  modest  emolument  of 
33,000  francs.  He  felt  that  he  was  too  poor  to 
take  it.  Next  came  the  escape  from  Elba.  Not 
the  least  interesting  portion  of  the  Memoires  are 
the  pages  describing  the  condition  of  things  in 
Paris  when  Napoleon  was  approaching  the  city. 
On  the  23rd  of  March  Louis  the  Eighteenth  pre- 
sented himself  to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  and 


234  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

among  other  brave  words  inquired,  amid  much 
applause,  whether  at  sixty  he  could  better  terminate 
his  career  than  by  dying  in  defence  of  his  country  ? 
He  gave  them  to  understand  that  he  meant  to 
remain  at  his  post.  This  royal  declaration  filled 
Chateaubriand  with  hope,  and  in  a  speech  delivered 
by  him  on  the  morrow  he  said  : 

"  Let  the  King  keep  his  word  and  stay  in  his  capital.  .  .  . 
Let  us  resist  for  only  three  days  and  the  victory  is  ours.  The 
King  defending  himself  in  his  chateau  will  evoke  universal 
enthusiasm.  And  if  it  is  destined  that  he  should  die,  let  him 
die  in  a  manner  worthy  of  his  rank.  Let  Napoleon's  last 
exploit  be  to  cut  an  old  man's  throat.  Louis  the  Eighteenth 
in  sacrificing  his  life  will  gain  the  only  battle  he  has  ever 
waged  :  and  he  will  gain  it  to  the  profit  of  the  liberty  of  the 
human  race." 

These  heroic  sentiments  pleased  the  ear.  To  the 
King  they  appealed,  Chateaubriand  sa37S,  as  having 
"  a  certain  Louis  Ouatorze  ring "  about  them. 
But  they  were  not  translated  into  action.  Louis 
the  Eighteenth  fled  to  Ghent  four  days  after  his 
memorable  speech  about  dying  at  his  post. 

"  If  he  had  only  kept  his  word,"  Chateaubriand  remarks, 
"  legitimacy  might  have  lasted  for  another  century.  Nature 
herself  seemed  to  have  deprived  the  old  monarch  of  the 
means  of  retiring  by  enchaining  him  with  salutary  infirmities. 
But  the  destinies  of  the  human  race  would  have  been  fettered 
[cntravccs)  if  the  author  of  the  Charter  had  adhered  to  his 
resolution.  Bonaparte  came  to  the  succour  of  the  future. 
This  Christ  of  the  evil  power  took  by  the  hand  the  new  paralytic 
and  said,  Arise,  take  up  thy  bed  :  Surge  :  iolle  ledum  ttmm." 

The  Hundred  Days  ran  their  course.  In  the 
miniature  Court  of  Louis  the  Eighteenth  at  Ghent, 


VI]         THE  BATTLE  OF   WATERLOO     235 

Chateaubriand  filled  the  post  of  Minister  of  the 
Interior  ad  interim,  while  remaining  also  titular 
Ambassador  of  the  Most  Christian  King  to  Sweden. 
Intrigues  abounded,  and  well-nigh  every  intriguer 
was  "  in  utraque  sorte  paratus  "  ;  just  as  ready  to 
serve  a  Bonaparte  as  a  Bourbon.  The  Duke  of 
Wellington  came  over  from  time  to  time  for  reviews, 
and  would  be  greeted  with  a  patronizing  nod  if 
Louis  the  Eighteenth,  taking  a  drive,  should  chance 
to  meet  him.  The  idee  fixe  of  the  monarch  was 
the  grandeur,  the  antiquit3/,the  dignity,  the  majesty 
of  his  race.  And  as  Chateaubriand  observes,  "  this 
unshakable  faith  of  Louis  the  Eighteenth  in  his 
kingship  was  a  power — the  power  which  gave  him 
the  sceptre.  He  was  legitimism  incarnate,  and 
with  him  it  disappeared." 

On  the  i8th  of  June,  1815,  Chateaubriand  went 
out  of  Ghent  by  the  Brussels  gate  to  take  a  walk 
on  the  main  road,  carrying  Caesar's  Commentaries 
in  his  hand.  He  was  deep  in  his  book  when,  some 
two  miles  from  the  city,  a  muffled  rumbling  reached 
his  ears.  It  was  the  distant  roar  of  the  cannon  at 
V/aterloo.  Soon  a  courier  passed  and  announced 
to  him  Bonaparte's  entry  into  Brussels  and  the 
defeat  of  the  Allies.  He  went  back  to  Ghent, 
where  there  was  a  general  saiive  qiii  pent.  Shortly, 
more  authentic  tidings  arrived.  Bonaparte  had 
not  entered  Brussels  ;  he  had  lost  the  battle  of 
Waterloo  and  had  fled  to  Paris.  Four  hundred 
thousand  troops  of  the  Allies  were  marching  thither 
after  him.    Louis  the  Eighteenth  received  a  friendly 


236  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

hint  from  Vienna  that  he  would  do  well  to  follow 
them  as  soon  as  possible,  or  he  might  find  his  place 
filled  up.  The  filling  up  of  places  was  indeed  the 
question  of  the  hour.  Chateaubriand  had  nothing 
of  the  courtier  about  him ;  he  was  absolutely 
wanting  in  the  suppleness  of  character,  the  elasti- 
city of  conscience,  needed  by  those  who  would 
thrive  in  Courts.  He  did  not  choose  to  ask  for  an 
appointment.  He  waited  to  be  asked  to  accept 
one.  Moreover,  he  shrank  from  the  contaminating 
contact  of  some  who  were  judged  indispensable  to 
the  restored  monarchy.  He  made  no  secret  of  his 
aversion  from  the  vile  Fouche,  from  the  venal 
Talleyrand.  He  came  back  to  France  with  no 
offer  or  promise  of  ofhce,  but  he  was  nominated 
to  the  peerage,  and  was  made  a  Councillor  of  State, 
a  position  which  brought  him  a  modest  salar}^ 


vn 

And  now  we  come  to  the  years  of  Chateau- 
briand's life  in  which  he  took  an  active  part  in 
politics.  Some  critics  appear  to  find  it  difficult  to 
understand  his  standpoint.  To  me  it  seems  quite 
easy.  He  was  a  legitimist  whose  personal  sym- 
pathies with  most  called  by  that  name  were  very 
limited.  He  was  also  a  liberal  in  the  best  sense  of 
the  word,  seeking  to  bind  together  the  old  historic 
traditions  of  France  with  the  claims — new  in  that 
country — of  individual   freedom.     That   was   the 


VI]    CHATEAUBRIAND'S  PRINCIPLES    237 

dominant  thought  to  which  he  was  ever  loyal,  and 
M.  de  Lacharriere  appears  to  me  well  warranted 
in  speaking  of  the  unity  of  his  political  conduct. 
It  is  true  that,  to  the  incalculable  loss  of  France, 
his  dream  of  an  alliance  between  legitimism  and 
liberty  was  not  realized.  That  was  not  his  fault. 
It  was  due  to  the  falsehood  of  extremes  which  he 
found  on  either  side.  On  the  one  hand  was  the 
dissolvent  individualism  of  the  revolutionary 
doctrine.^  On  the  other,  the  solid  dullness  of  a 
conservatism  utterly  unable  to  read  the  signs  of 
the  times ;  the  dullness  which  had  learnt  nothing 
and  forgotten  nothing  since  1789,  and  of  which 
Charles  the  Tenth  may  be  taken  as  the  supreme 
type.  Chateaubriand's  lot  was  cast  in  a  world 
not  moving  to  his  mind.  "  Pourquoi,"  he  exclaims 
in  a  striking  passage  of  his  Memoires  : 

"  Pourquoi  suis-je  venu  a  une  epoque  ou  j'etais  si  mal 
place?  Pourquoi  ai-je  ete  royaliste,  centre  mon  instinct, 
dans  un  temps  ou  une  miserable  race  de  cour  ne  pouvait  ni 
m'entendre,  ni  me  comprendre  ?  Pourquoi  ai-je  ete  jete  dans 
cette  troupe  de  mediocrite,  qui  me  prenait  pour  un  ecervele 
quand  je  parlais  courage,  pour  un  revolutionnaire  quand  je 
parlais  liberte."  ^ 

Such  then  were  Chateaubriand's  political  prin- 
ciples, from  which  he  never  swerved.  They  ani- 
mated  his   speeches   in   the   Chamber   of   Peers. 

1  "  Douce  patriarcale  innocente  honorable  amitie  de  famille, 
votre  siecle  est  pass6  ;  on  ne  tient  plus  au  sol  par  une  multitude 
de  fleurs,  de  rejetons,  et  de  racines  :  on  naU  et  I'on  mevirt,  tin 
d  un." — Memoires,  vol.  ii.  p.  i86. 

2  Vol.  iii.  p.  432. 


238  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [en. 

They  were  fully  unfolded  by  him  in  his  pamphlet, 
De  la  Monarchie  selon  la  Charte,  which  he  published 
in  1816.  This  brochure,  an  admirable  exposition 
of  the  doctrines  of  constitutional  government,  gave 
offence  to  Louis  the  Eighteenth  and  was  seized  by 
the  police — illegally  as  the  event  proved — while 
its  author  was  struck  off  the  list  of  Councillors  of 
State,  and  lost  the  stipend  attached  to  that  dignit3\ 
That  reduced  him  to  something  like  penury.  He 
was  obliged  to  sell  his  librar}^  and  his  country  house, 
La  Vallee-aux-Loups.  He  determined  to  turn  to 
journalism.  In  conjunction  with  some  of  his 
friends  he  founded  the  Conservateuv,  which,  thanks 
chiefly  to  his  brilliant  articles,  soon  became  a  great 
political  power.  He  claims — not  without  reason — 
"  la  revolution  operee  par  ce  journal  fut  inouie  : 
en  France  il  changea  la  majorite  dans  la  Chambre  : 
a  I'etranger  il  transforma  I'esprit  des  Cabinets." 
In  1820  the  Decazes  Cabinet  fell,  and  the  Due  de 
Richelieu  became  Prime  Minister  for  the  second 
time.  He  offered  Chateaubriand  the  Embassy  at 
Berlin. 

Chateaubriand  accepted  the  offer,  with  some 
reluctance  indeed,  but  he  could  not  afford  to  decline 
it.  One  reason  for  his  reluctance  was  that  it 
removed  him  from  the  society  of  Madame  Recamier, 
which  since  1817  had  entered  largely  into  his 
life.  His  relations  with  this  extremely  beautiful 
and  accomplished  woman  ^  have  been  generally 

*  Benjamin  Constant's  account  of  her  is  :    "  Sa  beautd  I'a 
d'abord  fait  admirer  :    son  Amc  s'est  cnsuite  fait  connaitre  :    et 


VI]  MADAME  RECAMIER  239 

supposed  to  be  Platonic,^  but  M.  Beaunier's  inquisi- 
torial tribunal  -  has  decided  otherwise.  Whether 
the  decision  is  right  or  wrong,  I  do  not  undertake 
to  pronounce.  I  must  refer  the  curious  in  such 
matters  to  M.  Beaunier's  own  pages.  What  is 
certain  is  that  in  Madame  Recamier  Chateaubriand 
found  that  adjiitorium  simile  sibi  which  unhappily 
he  had  not  found  in  Madame  de  Chateaubriand. 
In  a  striking  passage  ^  which  ends  the  first  volume 
of  the  Memoir es,  he  does  full  justice  to  his  wife's 
high  qualities,  her  fine  intelligence,  her  original 
and  cultivated  mind  and  her  admiration  for  him,'* 
although,  he  adds,  she  had  not  read  one  of  his  works. 
*'  She  is  better  than  I  am,"  he  observes,  but  *'  d'un 
commerce  moins  facile  " — which  no  doubt  was  true. 
For  the  rest,  Madame  de  Chateaubriand  was  greatly 
absorbed  in  the  affairs  of  the  Infirmerie  Marie 
Therese,  an  asylum  for  invalid  priests,  which  she 

son  ame  a  encore  paru  superieure  a  sa  beaute.  L'habitude  del  a 
societe  a  fourni  h  son  esprit  le  moyen  de  se  deplo^-er,  et  son 
esprit  n'est  reste  au-dessous  ni  de  sa  beaute  ni  de  son  ame." 

^  As  his  relations  with  the  Duchess  de  Duras  unquestionably 
were. 

-  See  Trois  Amies  de  Chateaubriand,  pp.  157-165. 

3  The  passage  concludes  with  these  words  :  "  Je  dois  done 
une  tendre  et  eternelle  reconnaissance  a  ma  femme,  dont  I'attache- 
ment  a  ete  aussi  touchant  que  profond  et  sincere.  EUe  a  rendu 
ma  vie  plus  grave,  plus  noble,  plus  honorable,  en  inspiranttoujours 
le  respect,  sinon  toujours  la  force  des  devoirs  " — which  is  very 
neatly  put. 

*  The  Duchess  de  Duras'  judgment  of  her  is  amusing  :  "  C'est 
une  personne  qui  a  de  I'esprit  et  surtout  de  I'originalit^  :  elle 
adore  son  mari  et  cela  me  parait  sa  meilleure  qualite." — La 
Diichesse  de  Duras  et  Chatea%ibriand,  p.  44. 


240  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

and  her  husband  had  founded,  and  where  she 
associated  with  rehgious  and  charitable  persons 
given,  hke  herself,  to  good  works.  It  was  not  an 
atmosphere  in  which  Chateaubriand  could  exist 
for  long.  He  found  one  more  congenial  to  him  in 
Madame  Recamier's  salon,  where  all  that  was  most 
illustrious  in  literature  and  politics  gladly  resorted, 
and  where  he  was  the  central  figure.  For  thirty 
years  she  was  the  light  of  his  life.  And  when  his 
life  w^as  drawing  towards  its  close,  he  wrote  thus 
of  her  in  his  Mcmoires  : 

"  As  I  approach  my  end  it  seems  to  me  that  everything 
which  has  been  dear  to  me,  has  been  dear  in  Madame  Recamier, 
and  that  she  has  been  the  hidden  source  of  all  my  affections. 
My  recollections  of  every  period  of  my  existence — those  of 
my  dreams  as  well  as  those  of  my  realities — have  become 
moulded,  commingled,  blended,  to  make  an  amalgam,  of 
which  she  has  become  the  visible  form."  ^ 

Chateaubriand  held  the  Embassy  at  Berlin  for 
only  a  few  months.^  Then,  in  consequence  of 
political  changes  in  France,  which  need  not  be 

^  MSmoires,  vol.  iv.  p.  488. 

2  The  independence  which  characterises  his  despatches  to  the 
French  Foreign  Office  during  this  period  is  remarkable.  Thus 
in  one  dated  the  loth  of  February,  1821,  he  writes  :  "  Je  desire. 
Monsieur  le  baron,  que  Ton  m'evite  des  tracasseries.  Quand  mes 
services  ne  scront  pas  plus  agr6ables,  on  ne  pent  me  faire  un  plus 
grand  plaisir  que  de  me  le  dire  tout  rondement.  Je  n'ai  ni  sollicite  ni 
desir6  la  mission  dont  on  m'a  charg6  ...  Jo  suis  au-dessus  ou 
au-dessous  d'une  ambassade  et  mcme  d'un  ministere  d'Htat. 
Vous  ne  manquerez  pas  d'hommes  plus  habiles  que  moi  pour 
conduirc  Ics  affaires  diplomatiqucs  .  .  .  J'cntendrai  ri  dcmi  mot : 
ct  vous  me  trouvercz  dispose  a  rcntrcr  dans  mou  obscuritc." 


VI]         AMBASSADOR  AT  LONDON         241 

dwelt  on  here,  he  was  nominated  to  the  much- 
coveted  post  of  Ambassador  to  the  Court  of  St. 
James.    He  accepted  the  nomination  with  pleasure. 
**  It  brought  back  to  me,"  he  says,  *'  Charlotte, 
my  youth,  my  emigration,  with  a  multitude  of 
joys  and  sorrows.      Human  frailty,  too,  delighted 
in  the  thought  of  my  reappearing,  celebrated  and 
powerful,  in  scenes  where  I  had  been  small  and  of 
no  reputation."     Some  of  the  most  charming  pages 
in  the  Memoires  ^  are  those  which  are  devoted  to 
this  episode  in  his  career.     In  September,  1822,  he 
left  London  to  go  as  one  of  the  French  plenipoten- 
tiaries to  the  Congress  of  Verona.     M.  Villemain 
enumerates  as  present  there  the  Emperor  of  Austria 
and   Prince   Metternich,   the  Emperor  of  Russia 
with  several  of  his  generals  and  ambassadors,  the 

^  Take  the  following  extract  as  a  specimen  of  them  :  "  Arrive 
a  Londres  comme  ambassadeur  fran9ais  un  de  mes  plus  grands 
plaisirs  est  de  laisser  ma  voiture  au  coin  d'un  square,  et  d'aller 
an  pied  parcourir  les  ruelles  que  j 'avals  jadis  frequentees,  les 
faubourgs  populaires  a  bon  marche  ou  se  refugie  le  malheur  sous 
la  protection  d'une  meme  souffrance,  les  abris  ignores  que  je 
hantais  avec  mes  associes  de  detresse,  ne  sachant  si  j'aurais  du 
pain  le  lendemain,  moi  dont  trois  ou  quatre  services  couvrent 
aujourd'hui  la  table  .  .  .  Quand  je  rentre  en  1822,  au  lieu  d'etre 
regu  par  mon  ami  tremblant  de  froid  qui  m'ouvre  la  porte  de 
notre  grenier,  en  me  tutoyant,  qui  se  couche  sur  son  grabat  aupres 
du  mien,  en  se  recouvrant  de  son  mince  habit,  et  ayant  pour 
lampe  le  clair  de  lunc,  je  passe  a  les  lueurs  des  flambeaux  entre 
deux  files  de  laquais,  qui  vont  aboutir  a  cinq  ou  six  respcctueux 
secretaires.  J 'arrive  tout  crible  sur  ma  route  des  mots,  Mon- 
seigneur,  Milord,  Voire  Excellence,  Monsieur  I' Ambassadeur,  a  ua 
salon  tapisse  d'or  et  de  soie.  Je  vous  en  prie.  Messieurs,  laissez- 
moi.  Resussitez,  compagnons  de  mon  exil.  Allons,  mes  vieux 
camarades  du  lit,  de  camp,  et  de  la  couche  de  paille." 

R 


242  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  BESTORATION  [ch. 

King  of  Prussia  with  his  two  brothers  and  his 
principal  Ministers,  the  King  of  Naples  with  his 
mistress  and  his  confessor,  the  King  of  Sardinia 
with  his  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  and  the  dele- 
gates of  England — chief  among  them  the  Duke  of 
Wellington.^  Chateaubriand  has  left  us  a  full 
account  of  the  Congress  in  two  volumes  of  entranc- 
ing interest.  The  question  which  above  all  others 
occupied  it  was  that  of  mediation  or  intervention 
in  the  Spanish  revolution.  Chateaubriand,  who 
had  larger  and  more  far-seeing  views  in  politics 
than  most  of  his  colleagues,  was  strongly  in  favour 
of  a  French  intervention  which,  as  he  judged, 
would  do  much  to  check  the  advancing  spirit  of 
unrest  throughout  Europe  and  to  enhance  the 
prestige  of  France.  We  learn  from  the  Memoir es 
that  in  1822  he  was  full  of  anxiety  for  the  future 
of  his  country.  He  speaks  of  "  cette  Restauration 
a  laquclle  j'ai  pris  tant  de  part,  aujourd'hui  glori- 
euse,  mais  que  je  ne  puis  pas  neanmoins  entrevoir 
qu'a  travers  je  ne  sais  quel  nuage  funebre."  He 
became  Foreign  Minister,  and  in  that  capacit}' 
carried  out  victoriously  the  Spanish  war.  Lord 
Acton  considers  "  the  overthrow  of  the  Cadiz 
constitution  in  1823  "  "  the  supreme  triumph  of 
the  restored  monarchy  in  France."  ^ 

Chateaubriand's  tenure  of  the  French  Foreign 
Office  lasted  for  fifteen  months.  The  military 
success  of  the  Spanish  campaign  was   complete. 

*  La  Tribune  Moderne  :   Chateaubriand,  p.  231, 
^  Essays  on  Liberty,  p.  89. 


VI]  EX-MINISTER  243 

And  no  doubt,  as  he  had  anticipated,  one  of  its 
effects  was  to  add  to  French  prestige.     But  its 
result  in  Spain  was  to  deUver  that  country  to  the 
unrestrained  despotism  of  Ferdinand  the  Seventh, 
a  prince  as  vindictive  in  power  as  vile  in  captivity. 
The  guarantees  for  good  government  which  Louis 
the  Eighteenth  sought  from  him  were  not  forth- 
coming, or  were  rendered  illusory.     On  one  occasion 
Chateaubriand  threatened  to  withdraw  the  French 
Ambassador  from  Madrid  if  the  King  did  not  pursue 
a  wiser  policy.     But  Ferdinand,  surrounded  by  a 
furious  and  greedy  camarilla,  made  no  real  reforms. 
Meanwhile  Chateaubriand's  position  in  the  French 
Cabinet   became   more   and   more   insecure.     His 
relations  with  the  Prime  Minister,  M.  de  Villele, 
were   unsympathetic.     His   masterful   ways   were 
distasteful  to  Louis  the  Eighteenth,  who  had  never 
liked    him.       Nothing,    however,    suggested,    as 
nothing  could  excuse,  the  manner  in  which  he  was 
dismissed.     On  Sunday,  the  6th  of  June,  1824,  ^^^ 
went  to  the  Tuileries  to  hear  Mass  at  the  Chapel 
Royal  and  to  present  his  respects  to  the  Sovereign. 
He  was  told  that  some  one  was  waiting  to  see  him 
in  the  Salle  des  Marechaux.     He  found  there  his 
private  secretary,  who  brought  him  a  communica- 
tion from  the  President  of  the  Council  transmitting 
a  royal  ordinance  b}^  which  he  was  relieved  of  his 
office. 

"  Quel  coup  pour  les  Bourbons,  et  de  leurs 
propres  mains,"  a  highly  cultivated  Englishman, 
Mr.  Frissell,  exclaimed  to  Villemain  when  he  heard 


244  A  PALADIN  OF  TEE  RESTORATION  [cii. 

the  news.  The  insult  was  gross,  and  was  of  a  kind 
which  Chateaubriand  would  deeply  resent.  Years 
before — it  was  in  1816 — Fontanes  had  said  of  him  : 
"  Chateaubriand  est  un  terrible  homme  :  ils  se 
repentiront  d'avoir  provoque  un  homme  de  genie." 
His  late  colleagues  did  repent.  Chateaubriand  put 
his  pen  at  the  service  of  the  Journal  des  Debats, 
while  the  Villele  Ministry  fell  from  one  fault  into 
another,  and  at  last,  in  1828,  arrived  at  a  degree 
of  unpopularity  which  terminated  its  existence. 
Chateaubriand  had  cause  to  be  satisfied. 

"  After  my  fall,"  he  writes,  "  I  became  the  acknowledged 
leader  of  French  opinion.  .  .  .  Young  France  was  on  my  side 
to  a  man,  and  has  never  since  deserted  me.  .  .  .  Crowds  sur- 
rounded me  whenever  I  showed  myself  in  the  streets.  Why 
did  I  acquire  this  popularity  ?  Because  I  had  read  the  true 
mind  of  France.  I  had  begun  the  combat  with  a  single  journal 
at  my  service.     I  became  the  master  of  the  entire  press." 

In  the  new  ministry  which  was  formed,  M.  de 
Martignac  desired — naturally  enough — to  include 
Chateaubriand.  But  Chateaubriand  declined  to 
accept  any  place  in  it  except  that  of  Foreign 
Minister — he  would  return,  he  said,  by  no  door 
save  the  one  at  which  he  had  been  thrust  out — 
and  Charles  the  Tenth  would  not  consent  to  that 
appointment.  He  was  however  appeased  by  the 
nomination  of  his  great  friend,  M.  de  la  Ferronays, 
to  the  Foreign  Office,  and  of  another  valued  friend, 
M.  Hyde  de  Neuville,  to  the  Admiralty,  while  he 
himself  accepted  the  Embassy  at  Rome.  Madame 
de  Chateaubriand — who  had  not  been  with  him 


VI]  AMBASSADOR  AT    ROME  245 

when  he  went  as  Ambassador  to  BerHn  or  London 
— determined  to  accompany  him  on  this  occasion, 
moved  no  doubt  by  her  devout  instincts.  If  the 
reminiscences  of  M.  de  Hausonville,  then  a  young 
attache,  are  to  be  trusted,  her  presence  did  not 
greatly  add  to  her  husband's  peace  and  comfort. 
His  most  important  work  during  the  few  months 
that  he  was  accredited  to  the  Holy  See  was  the 
defence  of  French  interests — or  what  were  supposed 
to  be  such — during  the  conclave  which  followed 
the  death  of  Leo  the  Twelfth.  But  the  pages  of 
the  Memoires  which  relate  to  this  period  are  full 
of  charm,  containing,  as  they  do,  some  admirable 
letters  to  Madame  Recamier,  and  several  diplomatic 
papers  still  well  worth  reading.  Meanwhile  the 
political  situation  in  France  was  becoming  ever 
more  menacing.  The  Liberal  majority  in  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies  was  in  constant  conflict  with 
M.  de  Martignac's  Ministry,  which  endeavoured  in 
vain  to  form  a  party  out  of  the  centres,  or  more 
moderate  members,  on  both  sides.  In  fact,  the 
ministry  was  at  the  mercy  of  two  great  parties, 
both  of  which  equally  detested  it,  and  over  neither 
of  which  had  it  any  control.  Prescient  of  coming 
changes,  Chateaubriand  determined  to  return  to 
France.  Having  obtained  leave  of  absence,  he 
left  Rome  on  the  6th  of  May,  1829,  accompanied 
by  Madame  de  Chateaubriand,  who,  as  we  read, 
took  back  with  her  for  her  Infirmerie  de  Marie- 
Therese,  a  plentiful  supply  of  relics,  medals,  and 
indulgences,  as  well  as  the  famous  Micetto,  Pope 


246  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

Leo  the  Twelfth's  favourite  cat,  "  red  streaked  with 
black/'  which  had  been  given  to  her  on  the  death 
of  that  Pontiff. 

On  arriving  at  Paris,  Chateaubriand  proceeded 
to  pay  his  respects  to  the  King,  whom  he  found  in 
a  state  of  grave  discontent  with  his  Ministers. 
They  were  too  liberal  for  him.  For  the  country 
they  were  not  liberal  enough.  The  Ministry  of 
Foreign  Affairs  was  vacant.  There  was  some 
expectation  that  it  would  be  given  to  Chateau- 
briand. But  the  King  said,  "  I  won't  say  that  he 
shall  not  be  my  Minister  at  some  time  ;  but  not 
at  present."  Charles  the  Tenth  had  other  views, 
which  Chateaubriand  did  not  even  divine. 

"  The  accession  of  M.  de  Polignac  to  power,"  he  says, 
"  never  entered  my  head  "  ;  "  M.  de  PoHgnac  !  son  esprit  borne, 
fixe  et  ardent,  son  nom  fatal  et  impopulaire,  son  entetement, 
ses  opinions  religieuses  exaltees  jusqu'au  fanatisme,  me 
paraissaient  des  causes  d'une  eternelle  exclusion." 

But  it  was  on  M.  de  Polignac  that  the  royal 
choice  fell.  Chateaubriand  had  gone  to  Cauterets 
to  drink  the  waters  ;  and  there  news  of  the  forma- 
tion of  the  Polignac  Ministry  reached  him.  He 
knew  well  what  this  mad  act  of  Charles  the  Tenth 
meant.  "  Le  coup  me  fit  un  mal  affreux,"  he 
writes,  "j'eus  un  moment  de  desespoir,  car  mon 
parti  fut  pris  a  I'instant ;  je  sentis  que  je  me 
devais  retirer."  He  immediately  returned  to  Paris 
and  wrote  to  M.  de  Polignac  requesting  an  audience 
of  the  King,  with  a  view  of  explaining  to  his 
Sovereign  the  reason  which  constrained  him  to 


VI]  FALL  OF  CHARLES   THE  TENTH    247 

resign  his  embassy.  The  King  was  unwilHng  to 
receive  him  unless  he  would  retain  his  embassy, 
which  he  firmly  declined  to  do,  telling  M.  de 
Polignac  frankly  why. 

"  Je  repondis  que  son  ministere  etait  impopulaire  ;  que 
la  France  entiere  etait  persuadee  qu'il  attaquerait  les  libertes 
publiques,  et  que  moi,  defenseur  de  ces  libertes,  il  m'etait 
impossible  de  m'embarquer  avec  ceux  qui  passaient  pour  en 
etre  les  ennemis." 

It  is  not  necessary  here  to  tell  the  story  of  the 
dethronement  of  Charles  the  Tenth.  But  it  may 
be  well  to  recall  certain  words  addressed  to  him  by 
Chateaubriand  in  1821 — he  was  then  Comte 
d'Artois — nine  years  before  the  catastrophe  came. 

"  The  new  France  is  now  entirely  royalist.  It  may 
become  entirely  revolutionary.  If  the  institutions  of  the 
country  are  conformed  to,  I  would  stake  my  head  on  a  future 
of  several  centuries.  If  they  are  violated  or  abused,  I  would 
not  answer  even  for  a  future  of  a  few  months." 

Chateaubriand's  position  in  the  crisis  brought 
about  by  the  Polignac  Ordonnances  was  stated 
very  plainly  in  a  letter  of  his  to  Madame  Recamier. 
**  It  is  painful  but  clear.  I  will  betray  neither  the 
King  nor  the  Charter,  neither  legitimate  power  nor 
liberty."  His  famous  speech  in  the  Chamber  of 
Peers  on  the  7th  of  August,  1830,  is  but  an  explica- 
tion of  these  words.  Charles  the  Tenth  had  fled, 
after  abdicating  in  favour  of  his  grandson,  and 
appointing  the  Due  d' Orleans  Lieutenant-General 
of  the  Kingdom  and  guardian  of  the  royal  infant. 
But  Louis  Philippe  was  by  no  means  satisfied  with 


248  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [cii. 

that  arrangement.  He  had  long  aspired  to  the 
crown,  and  he  thought — rightty,  as  the  event 
proved — that  his  hour  was  come.  Every  effort 
was  made  to  win  over  Chateaubriand  to  the 
Orleanist  party.  He  was  offered  the  Foreign 
Office,  the  Roman  Embassy,  or  what  he  hked. 
His  answer  was,  "  Would  you  have  me  give  the 
lie  to  my  whole  life  ?  "  That  w^as  the  keynote  of 
his  speech  on  the  7th  of  August — "  a  day  ever 
memorable  to  me,"  he  says,  "  for  then  I  had  the 
happiness  to  finish  my  political  career  as  I  had 
begun  it."  Assuredly  it  is  the  greatest  of  his 
speeches,  and  perhaps  he  never  wrote  anything 
better  than  the  paragraph  which,  as  he  tells  us, 
moved  him  to  tears  w^hen  he  delivered  it  : 

"  Inutile  Cassandre,  j'ai  assez  fatigue  le  trOne  et  la  patiie 
de  mes  avertissements  dedaignes  :  il  ne  me  reste  que  de 
m'asseoir  sur  les  debris  d'un  naufrage  que  j'ai  tant  de  fois 
predit.  Je  reconnais  au  malheur  toutes  les  sortes  de  puissance 
excepte  celle  de  me  delier  de  mes  serments  de  fidulite.  Je 
dois  aussi  rendre  ma  vie  uniforme  :  apres  tout  ce  que  j'ai  fait, 
dit  et  ecrit  pour  les  Bourbons,  je  serai  le  dernier  des  miserablcs 
si  je  les  reniais  au  moment  011,  pour  la  troisieme  et  dcrnicre 
fois,  ils  s'achcminent  vers  I'exil." 

Chateaubriand  refused  then  to  take  the  oath 
to  Louis  Philippe  as  King  of  the  French.  He  re- 
signed his  peerage,  and,  of  course,  the  emolu- 
ments attached  to  it,  and  also  his  place  of  Councillor 
of  State.  He  sold  the  trappings  of  his  ceremonial 
dress — gold  lace,  shoulder  straps,  epaulettes — to  a 
Jew  for  seven  hundred  francs.  "  I  was  left  stripped 
as  naked/'  he  says,  "  as  a  httlc  Saint  John."     He 


VI]  A    HEROIC   SACRIFICE  249 

might  have  added,  "  et  mea  Virtute  me  involve 
probamque  Pauperiem  sine  dote  quaero."  So  far 
as  I  know,  in  this  heroic  sacrifice  to  principle  he 
stands  alone  among  French  statesmen  of  that  time. 
''  Heaven's  Swiss,  who  fight  for  any  god  or  man," 
is  the  correct  account  of  well-nigh  all  of  them. 


VIII 

In  what  I  have  written  about  Chateaubriand 
I  have  referred  to  his  relations  with  his  fair  friends 
only  so  far  as  was  necessary  for  the  elucidation  of 
his  public  career.  If  anyone  desires  full  details 
of  his  amours,  are  they  not  written  in  Mr.  Cribble's 
Chateaubriand  and  his  Court  of  Women,  and  in 
M.  Beaunier's  Trois  Amies  de  Chateaubriand? 
Of  the  ''  trois  amies  "  I  have  been  led  to  speak  of 
two — Madame  de  Beaumont,  the  muse  of  his  earlv 
manhood,  and  Madame  Recamier,  the  guardian 
angel  of  his  maturity  and  old  age.  But  there  is  a 
third  lady  who  came  into  his  life  in  1829,  ^"^^  who 
counted  for  much  in  the  last  two  years  of  his  public 
activity.     She   is   mentioned   only   once  ^   in   the 

^  M.  Beaunier  well  explains  the  reason  why  :  "  Chateaubriand 
dans  ses  Memoires  parle  beaucoup  de  ses  amies  :  mais  il  a  I'honor- 
able  soin  de  presenter  ses  amours  comme  des  amities  :  le  reste, 
il  le  donne  a  entendre.  Avec  Hortense  ce  n'etait  pas  possible. 
Cette  aimable  femme  avait  eu  de  si  celebres  et  nombreuses 
aventures  qu'en  se  disant  son  simple  ami,  Chateaubriand  risquait 
le  ridicule.  II  supprima  cette  anecdote  d'une  existence  qui  etait 
assez  riche,  au  surplus,  sans  cela." — Trois  Amies  de  Chaicaiibriand, 
p.  230. 


250  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [cii. 

Memoires,  and  then  casually.  But  there  are 
abundant  sources  of  information  about  her,  and 
they  have  been  fully  utilized  by  M.  Seche,  in  his 
ably  written  volume  which  forms  one  of  the  series 
called  Muses  Romantiques. 

Hortense  Allart  was  born  at  Milan  in  the  year 
1801,  her  father  being  then  "  membre  d'une 
commission  extraordinaire  de  liquidation  "  for  that 
city.  At  the  age  of  twenty  she  became  an  orphan. 
Her  intellectual  endowments  were  considerable, 
and  she  had  received  w^hat  was  accounted  a  good 
education.  For  some  two  years  she  was  a  gover- 
ness in  the  family  of  General  Bertrand,  where 
apparently  she  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
Comte  de  Sampayo,  a  Portuguese  gentleman,  of 
whom  M.  Seche  tells  us  *'  II  etait  alors  age  de 
vingt-quatre  ans,  avait  une  jolie  figure  et  I'ame 
religieuse."  With  these  advantages  he  won  the 
affections  of  Hortense,  who  became  his  mistress, 
and  in  1826  bore  him  a  son,  Marcus.  Then  their 
intimacy  came  to  an  end,  Sampayo,  notwithstand- 
ing his  "  ame  religieuse,"  having  abandoned  her 
when  she  was  about  to  become  a  mother.  She  had 
betaken  herself  to  Florence,  where,  after  a  time, 
she  appears  to  have  had  tender  relations  with 
Capponi,  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Risorgimento, 
who  had  been  interested  in  a  book  entitled  La 
Coiijuraiion  d'Amboise,  which  she  had  published 
when  she  was  twenty-one.  Another  early  work 
of  hers  was  a  volume  of  Letters  to  George  Sand,  with 
whose  moral   and  religious  principles  she  much 


VI]  H0RTEN8E  ALLART  251 

sympathized,  and  who,  later  on,  pronounced  her 
to  be  "  one  of  the  glories  of  her  sex."  Hortense, 
says  her  biographer,  ''  n'ecouta  jamais  que  la  voix 
de  la  nature  " — "  nature  "  meaning  for  her  what 
her  inclination  prompted.  She  professed  herself 
a  Protestant,  and  had  a  kind  of  religiosity,  real, 
however  hazy ;  she  was  loyal,  generous  and  true 
to  her  lovers,  who,  in  the  event,  usually  became 
her  friends.  *'  C'etait  une  ame  simple  et  naturelle 
du  XVIIIe.  siecle,  a  qui  le  sens  moral  pouvait  faire 
defaut,  mais  dont  la  sincerite  n'etait  pas  douteuse," 
says  M.  Seche.  For  the  rest,  she  was  a  very  pretty 
woman,  "etincelante  de  vie,  d'interet  et  degaiete: 
un  morceau  de  roi." 

In  1829  Hortense  Allart  was  in  Rome  on  a  visit 
to  her  sister,  who  was  married  to  a  M.  Gabraic,  a 
man  of  business,  residing  in  the  quarter  delle 
Ouattro  Fontane.  She  passed  her  time,  M.  Seche 
tells  us,  in  exploring  the  ruins  of  pagan  antiquity, 
with  no  more  thought  of  Chateaubriand  than  if 
he  had  never  existed,  when  she  received  from 
Madame  Hamelin  a  letter  of  introduction  to  him. 
To  prepare  herself  for  the  interview  with  the  great 
man  she  read  Atala,  and  w^as  much  charmed  with 
it.  Chateaubriand  was  much  charmed  with  her. 
It  was  in  the  month  of  April,  1829,  ^^^^  ^^  was  just 
then  suffering  acutely  from  ennui — which,  indeed, 
was  often  the  case  with  him.  The  visit  of  this 
young  and  fascinating  woman  at  once  dispelled  it. 
"  Pour  la  vingtieme  fois  de  sa  vie,"  writes  M.  Seche, 
''  il  avait  recu  le  coup  de  foudre :    a  cela  rien 


252  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

d'etonnant,  du  reste,  car  Hortense  etait  vraimcnt 
seduisante."  As  for  him,  though  turned  sixty, 
his  Olympian  head  and  irresistible  smile  and  charm- 
ing manner  had  retained  all  the  fascination  of  his 
earlier  days,  and  he  might  have  said,  in  the  verse 
of  Victor  Hugo,  "  le  coeur  n'a  pas  de  rides."  M. 
Beaunier  writes,  "  It  was  as  though  the  young 
women  whom  he  loved,  successively,  with  an 
assiduous  ardour,  ever  renewed,  communicated  to 
him,  by  a  phenomenon  of  gracious  contagion,  a 
persistent  youth."  ^  However  that  may  have 
been,  Hortense  Allart  too  fell  under  his  spell,  and 
when,  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  he  proceeded 
to  Paris,  on  leave  of  absence,  she  followed  him 
thither,  and,  to  be  near  him,  took  an  apartment  in 
the  Rue  d'Enfer. 

Chateaubriand's  passion  for  his  young  mistress 
was  of  the  intense  kind  which  sometimes  assails 
men  at  the  age  critique,  and  in  the  troublous  da3's 
which  arrived  he  found  in  her  society  a  welcome 
refuge  from  the  strife  of  tongues.  But  her  great 
work  for  him — "  elle  n'a  rien  fait  de  plus  glorieux 
en  ce  mondc,"  M.  Seche  judges — was  to  bring  him 
into  relations  of  close  friendship  with  Beranger, 
whom  she  had  known  intimately  from  her  child- 
hood. Louis  Philippe  was  as  much  detested  by 
the  advanced  liberals  of  France  as  by  the  legiti- 
mists. They  by  no  means  saw  in  him  "  the  best 
of  republics."  They  regarded  him,  not  without 
reason,    as    a    discounter    and    juggler    who    had 

1  p.  184. 


VI]  BERANGER  253 

jockeyed    them.     Chateaubriand    had    deHghted 
them  by  his  refusal  to  serve  under  PoHgnac  ;   he 
dehghted  them  still  more  b}^  his  contemptuous 
defiance  of  the  new  Sovereign.     Beranger  was  quite 
one  of  the  most  influential  men  in  the  liberal  ranks, 
and  Chateaubriand,  who  greatly  admired  his  songs 
and  rated  very  highly  his  genius,  gladly  fell  in 
with  Hortense  Allart's  suggestion  that  he  should 
make  the  acquaintance  of  the  poet,  upon  whom 
he    called,    after    some    preliminary    negotiations 
skilfully  conducted  by  her.     Beranger  succumbed 
at  once  to  the  spell  of  the  enchanter  and  wrote  to 
Hortense  to  ask  how  soon  she  thought  he  might 
return  the  call — "  tant  je  suis  sous  le  charme,  mais 
je  crains  d'etre  indiscret."     "  From  the  date  of 
this  visit,"  writes  M.  Seche,   "  the  sentiment  of 
respect  and  esteem  which  the  two  men  cherished 
for  one  another  changed  into  a  friendship  which 
lasted  as  long  as  they.^ "    On  the  i6th  of  May,  1831, 
Chateaubriand  left  France  for  Switzerland,  most 
certainly  not  without  a  view  of  returning.   Beranger 
had  dissuaded  him  from  going.      It  appeared  to 
him  that  Beranger's  was  the  one  voice  which  should 
call  him  back.     No  one  had  so  much  authority, 
so  much  popularity  as  the  poet  '*  whose  couplets, 
charged  with  saltpetre,  had  blown  up  the  throne 

^  I  confess  that  I  am  insensible  to  the  charm  of  Beranger's 
songs,  and  that  I  have  no  sympathy  with  his  rehgious  or  pohtical 
opinions.  But  I  have  the  greatest  respect  and  admiration  for 
his  honesty  and  straightforwardness.  His  letters  to  Hortense 
Allart  are  charming. 


254  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

of  Charles  the  Tenth/'  After  some  hesitation 
Beranger  wrote  the  song,  *'  Chateaubriand,  pour- 
quoi  fuis  ta  patrie  ?  "  The  summons  to  return 
was  promptly  obeyed.  "  How  can  I  be  insensible,'' 
Chateaubriand  wrote,  in  his  grand  manner,  "  to 
the  flattery  of  that  muse  who  has  disdained  to 
flatter  kings  ?  " 

We  read  in  Chateaubriand's  Memoires  that  this 
period  was  the  happiest  of  his  life,  and  M.  Seche 
observes,  "Je  le  crois  bien,  puisqu'il  savoura  les 
douceurs  de  I'amour  et  de  la  popularite."  ^     Un- 
questionably his  delight  in  the  popiilaris  aura  was 
intense — so  intense  as  to  surprise  Beranger,  who, 
in  a  letter  to  Hortense  Allart,  observes,  "  Bon  Dieu, 
qu'il  a  besoin  de  gloire  et  de  bruit  !  "     But  the 
popularis  aura  does  not  continue  to  blow  for  long 
with  the  same  strength,  or  in  one  quarter.     And, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  Chateaubriand's  public  career  ^ 
was  virtually  closed  in  1830.     Moreover  his  liaison 
with  Hortense  Allart  came  to  an  end.     He  was 
himself,  in  some  sort,  the  author  of  that  calamity. 
"  Un  jour,"  M.  Seche  relates,  *'  pour  se  distraire 
d'Hortense,  il  lui  conseilla  d'aller  faire  un  petit 
voyage  en  Angleterre  :    elle  le  prit  au  mot  :    mais 
quand  elle  revint,  le  charme  etait  rompu  ;  elle  avait 
trouve  une  nouvelle  chaussure  a  son  pied."  which, 
being  interpreted,  means  that  in  England  she  met 
Henry  Bulwer  Lytton,  afterwards  Lord  Dalling, 
1  p.  124. 

*  "  Public  career."  Of  course,  I  do  not  forget  his  chivalrous 
activities  on  behalf  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  in  the  immediately 
succeeding  years. 


VI]  A  POSTHUMOUS  SCANDAL  255 

to  whom  she  transferred  her  mutable  affections — 
as  she  frankly  told  Chateaubriand  on  her  return. 
She  had  her  notions  of  probity,  and  was  faithful 
in  her  temporary  unions.  It  was  a  great  blow  to 
him  thus  to  lose  *'  sa  derniere  Muse,  son  dernier 
enchantement,  son  dernier  rayon  de  soleil."  But 
he  got  over  it,  and  he  and  Hortense  were  always 
friends.  Her  admiration  of,  her  interest  in  him, 
lasted  till  his  death  in  1848.^ 


IX 

Unfortunately,  it  lasted  longer.  Hortense  Allart 
had  a  way  of  recording  in  books  her  gallant  adven- 
tures, under  the  slightest  veil  of  fiction,  which 
more  expressed  than  hid  them.  Thus  her  novel 
Jerome,  published  in  1830,  is  really  an  account  of 
her  experiences  with  Sampayo,  who,  as  we  have 
seen,  was  a  Portuguese  gentleman — married,  we 
may  note — and  who  is  converted  by  her,  for  the 
purposes  of  her  story,  into  a  celibate  Roman  prelate. 
Her  other  novels  are  similarly  autobiographical  : 
a  friend  of  hers  remarked,  "  You  are  the  first 
woman  who  has  made  such  frank  confessions  to 
the  public."     None  of  them  had  much  success, 

*  She  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  Mm,  a  year  before  his  death,  in 
a  passage  which  M.  Seche  quotes  (p.  139)  :  "  II  m'a  charmee  et 
touchee.  II  ne  peut  marcher  :  il  est  melancohque.  II  a  ses 
anciennes  graces  :  cette  distinction,  cette  elevation  qui  en  font 
un  homme  si  attrayant.  L'age,  au  lieu  de  changer  la  beaute 
de  son  visage,  I'a  rendue  plus  remarquable." 


256  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

except  Les  Enchantements  de  Prudence,  published 
in  1873 — which  had  a  succes  de  scandale.     It  is  by 
way  of  being  an  account  of  her  relations  with 
Chateaubriand,    and   there   seems   no   reason   for 
doubting  that  it  is  substantially  accurate.    Veracity 
was  one  of  her  virtues.     Indeed,  no  sort  of  reticence 
much  checked  her  fluent  pen.     For  example,  she 
describes,  with  great  liberty,  her  little  dinners  with 
Chateaubriand,  in  a  cabinet  particulier  of  a  small 
restaurant,    I'Arc   en   Ciel,    near   the   Jardin   des 
Plantes.     She  tells  us  how  she  would  sing  him 
favourite  songs  of  Beranger — Mon  Ame,  la  Bonne 
Vieille,  le  Dieu  de  bonnes  gens,  and  how  "  il  les 
ecoutait  ravi,  et  cette  belle  poesie  et  la  voix  de  sa 
maitresse   I'attendrissaient  :    ces  chansons  le  sor- 
taient  de  lui-meme,  eveillaient  son  genie,  le  jetaient 
dans  un  etat  exalte,  triste  et  doux."     But  I  must 
refer  those  who  desire  further  details  of  this  flow 
of  soul  to  the  pages  of  M.  Seche — or  indeed  of  M. 
Beaunier    or    Mr.    Gribble.     The    effect    of   these 
revelations    was    different    on    different    readers. 
George  Sand  characterized  the  book  as  "  un  livre 
etonnant,"  and  pronounced  the  authoress  to  be 
**  une  tres  grande  femme,  une  ame  fervente  qui 
n'est  pas  exclusivement  chretienne  "  (which  was 
doubtless    true)  ;     and    while    making    *'  certain 
reserves,"  would  throw  no  stone  at  her,  but  would 
rather  present  her  with  a  crown  of  roses  and  oak 
leaves.     The   general   impression   among   men   of 
letters  appears  to  have  been  one  of  cynical  amuse- 
ment.    M.    Antoine    Passy    wrote    to    Hortense  : 


VI]  LAMENTATIONS  AND  INVECTIVE  257 


t( 


Cette  grande  figure  litteraire,  religieuse  et  poli- 
tique, baisant  vos  pieds  est  Un  tableau  ravissant." 
But  the  legitimists  were  of  a  different  opinion. 
They  found  the  picture  by  no  means  ravishing. 
Two  of  their  chief  writers  expressed  the  general 
scandal,  and  burst  into  loud  lamentations  and 
indiscriminate  invective,  when  silence  perhaps 
would  have  been  more  dignified  and  more 
politic.  M.  Armand  de  Pontmartin  was  aghast 
to  find 

"  Chateaubriand,  cette  grandiose  figure  dc  defenseur  d'une 
religion,  de  createur  d'une  poesie,  de  precurseur  d'une  revolu- 
tion litteraire,  d'ordonnateur  des  pompes  fun^bres  d'une 
monarchie  vaincue,"  exhibited,  at  the  mature  age  of  sixty, 
"  en  un  vicomte  boheme,  royaliste  ct  Catholique  pour  rire, 
enfonce  jusqu'au  menton  dans  cette  coterie  dominee  par 
Beranger  .  .  .  infidele  tout  ensemble  a  sa  femme — ceci  ne 
comptait  pas — a  Madame  Recamier,  a  son  nom,  a  son  passe, 
k  sa  gloire." 

Similarly,  M.  Barbey  d'Aurevilly  qualified  as 
"  ignoble  and  horrible  "  the  spectacle  of  the  author 
oi  Le  Genie  dit  Christianisme  **  sur  le  bord  de  sa  vie, 
en  bonne  fortune  de  cabaret,  avec  une  maitresse, 
y  chantant  le  Dieu  de  bonnes  gens  de  Beranger," 
and  expressed  his  sincere  pity  for  the  husband, 
the  sons,  the  daughters — if  they  have  any — of  the 
women  who  write  such  books. ^     Marcus  Allart — 

^  Hortense  Allart,  her  biographer  relates,  was  much  astonished 
to  hear  of  the  scandal  caused  by  the  Enchantements ,  the  more 
especially  as  she  had  ended  the  book  with  certain  prayers — "  de 
tres  belles  prieres,"  her  friends  esteemed  them — which,  M.  Seche 

S 


258  A  PALADIN  OF  THE  RESTORATION  [ch. 

now  arrived  at  man's  estate — was  so  disobliged  by 
this  unsought  commiseration,  that  he  sent  M. 
Barbey  d'Aurevilly  a  challenge  to  single  combat, 
which  was  not  accepted  ;  whereupon  he  betook 
himself  to  the  office  of  the  Constitutionnel  and 
failing  to  find  his  adversary  there,  assaulted  and 
battered  some  unoffending  contributor,  who  was 
unfortunate  enough  to  come  in  his  way  ;  for  which 
he  was  condemned,  in  due  course,  to  a  month's 
imprisonment  and  a  fine  of  two  hundred 
francs. 

Chateaubriand  had  been  dead  a  quarter  of  a 
century  when  all  this  happened.  And  I  suppose 
it  did  not  matter  to  him.  Does  it  really  matter  to 
us  that,  like  Samson  of  old,  "  effeminately  van- 
quished," he  was  thus  exhibited  to  make  sport  for 
the  Philistines  ?  Is  not  their  mirth  more  ignoble 
than  his  humiliation  ?  No  doubt  his  unquestion- 
able strength  and  greatness  were  marred  and  foiled 
by  as  unquestionable  weakness  and  littleness.  But 
surely  to  him,  if  to  anyone,  may  be  applied  Pope's 
doctrine  of  the  Ruling  Passion.  I  quoted  in  a  former 
page  his  declaration,  *'  Je  n'ai  jamais  eu  besoin 
qu'on  me  donnat  des  conseils  d'honneur  ...  en 
fait  de  devoir  j'ai  I'esprit  prime-sautier."  The 
testimony  which  he  thus  bears  of  himself  is  true. 
If  we  would  judge  him  aright,  we  must  remember 
that  his  ruling  passion  was  loyalty  to  honour,  to 
duty.     Let  us  take  leave  of  him  in  the  familiar 

tells  us  (p.  73),  she  thought  would  sanctify,  or  at  all  events  purify, 
her  confidences. 


VI]  MERITS  AND  FBAILTIES  259 

and  beautiful  lines  which  he  knew  well  and  deeply 
treasured  :  ^ 

"  No  farther  seek  his  merits  to  disclose, 
Or  draw  his  frailties  from  their  dread  abode, 
(There  they  alike  in  trembling  hope  repose) 
The  bosom  of  his  Father  and  his  God." 


^  In  vol.  xxii.  of  Chateaubriand's  (Etivres  Completes  will  be 
found  an  imitation  of  Gray's  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard,  which 
Sainte-Beuve  praises  :  "  Vers  tout-a-fait  beaux  et  poetiques," 
he  says.  I  have  no  doubt  this  praise  is  well  deserved,  but  the 
verses  are  widely  remote  from  the  thought  and  manner  of  the 
original.  That  is  not  the  fault  of  Chateaubriand.  The  ethos 
of  Gray's  masterpiece  is  so  utterly  English  that  an  ^equate,  or, 
indeed,  a  tolerable  version  of  it  in  French  is  quite  impossible. 


CHAPTER  VII 

L'Ame  Moderne 


A  REMARK  of  M.  Henry  Bordeaux  has  suggested 
to  me  the  title  which  I  have  given  to  this  Chapter. 
I  leave  it  in  the  French  because  no  English  ren- 
dering ^  of  it  quite  satisfies  me.  M.  Bordeaux's 
words  are,  **  M.  Paul  Bourget  a  Tame  moderne  : 
toutes  les  tendances  de  notre  epoque  se  refletent 
en  lui."  ^  I  shall  try  to  catch  that  reflection  and 
to  present  it  to  my  readers. 


II 

I  suppose  no  one  doubts  that  M.  Bourget  is 
the  greatest  novelist  of  contemporary  France — 
the  greatest  novelist  that  his  country  has  pro- 
duced since  Balzac.  His  popularity  is  enormous, 
and  it  is  merited  by  his  high  gifts.     For  they  are 

1  "  The  Modern  Spirit."  "  The  Mind  of  the  Age."  "  The  Soul 
of  the  Epoch,"  are  translations  ;  but,  somehow,  they  are  not 
equivalents. 

-  Lcs  Ames  Moderncs,  p.  246. 

260 


[CH.  VII]     BOURGET  AND  BALZAC  261 

indeed  high  gifts  which  he  has  brought  to  the 
composition  of  romantic  fiction.     Every  page  of 
his  is  marked  by  sagacity  and  subtlety,  by  depth 
of  feeling  and  by  delicacy  of  touch,  by  intellectual 
distinction   and   by   wide   culture.     His  work,   to 
borrow    a    word    from    Emerson,  is   "  vital    and 
spermatic."     It    is    literature    presenting    to    us, 
with  singular  seductiveness  of  form,  reality  which 
has   passed   through   the   fire   of   thought.     The 
critics    are    accustomed    to    compare    him    with 
Stendhal  or  with  Balzac.     There  are  grounds  for 
both  comparisons.     Inferior,  perhaps,  to  Stendhal 
in  originality,  he  is  assuredly  superior  to  that  great 
master  of  psychological  fiction  not  only  in  what 
is  called  "leroman  de  caracteres" — again  I  am  at 
a  loss  for  an  English  equivalent — but  also  in  poetic 
faculty,  in  philosophic  culture,  in  literary  power. 
With   Balzac   he   has   much   in   common.     Both 
possess    the   singular    faculty    of   description    by 
minute  delineation  of  details,  which,  so  to  speak, 
makes  us  see  with  our  own  eyes  what  they  picture  ; 
which   brings  before  us  not  individua  vaga,  not 
types   and   shadows,    but   actual   entities.     They 
have  in  common  that  curious  gift  of  fascination 
— a  kind  of  literary  magnetism — which  commands 
the  reader's  attention  in  spite  of  himself;    "he 
cannot  choose  but  hear."     They  are  both  endowed 
with  that  wonderful  psychological  power  which 
enables  them  to  lay  bare  the  innermost  secrets 
of  the  human  soul.     But  here  there  is  a  difference 
between  them  which  ought  to  be  noted.     Balzac's 


262  rlME  MODERNE  [ch. 

psychology  is  that  of  the  seer,  the  voyant.  Bourget's 
is  that  of  the  moral  anatomist.  Balzac  is  "  the 
great  inquisitor  of  human  nature."  Bourget  is 
the  accomplished  analyst  of  human  passions. 
Balzac,  as  George  Sand  said,  "  knew  and  dared 
everything."  Bourget  confines  himself  to  what 
may  be  called  experimental  or  applied  psychology. 


Ill 

So  much  in  general  as  to  M.  Bourget.  And  now 
let  us  briefly  survey  his  career.  His  father, 
sprung  from  a  province  of  central  France,  was 
engaged  in  1852  in  teaching  mathematics  at 
Amiens,  and  it  was  there,  in  September  of  that 
year,  that  Paul  Bourget  was  born.  His  early 
youth  was  passed  in  the  lycee  at  Clermont  whither 
his  father  had  been  transferred ;  and  in  his  work 
Le  Disciple  there  is  a  page  in  which  his  earliest 
recollections  of  his  life  are  put  into  the  mouth  of 
Robert  Greslou.  But  for  his  father's  mathe- 
matical pursuits  he  had  small  inclination.  It  so 
chanced  that  a  French  translation  of  Shakespeare, 
ill  two  large  volumes,  which  found  place  in  the 
scanty  paternal  library,  was  used  to  prop  up  the 
child  when  seated  at  the  family  table.  Curiosity 
led  him  to  look  into  them.  He  fell  at  once  under 
the  spell  of  the  great  magician.  It  was  the 
awakening  of  his  intellectual  life.  At  his  lycee, 
we  are  told,  he  made  *'  serious  and  solid  studies  " 


VII]  BOURGETS  EARLY  LIFE  263 

in  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics.  In  1867  he  came 
to  Paris  and  entered  the  college  of  St.  Barbe, 
where  his  father  had  been  nominated  Directeur 
des  Etudes.  There  he  won  a  prize  for  a  Latin 
dissertation,  and  there  he  continued,  with  appre- 
ciation and  judgment,  his  reading  of  the  poets 
and  historians  of  Hellas  and  Rome.  Now,  modern 
writers  began  to  engage  his  attention  :  Balzac 
and  Stendhal,  Musset  and  Beaudelaire,  Flaubert 
and  the  Goncourts  :  and  now  too  he  began  those 
philosophic  studies  which  later  on  were  to  bear 
such  good  fruit  in  the  Essais  de  Psychologic.  In 
1872  he  travelled  for  a  time  in  Greece  and  Italy — 
it  was  the  first  of  those  many  expeditions  to  which 
he  considers  himself  to  have  been  so  deeply  in- 
debted :  "  tout  ce  que  je  sais,  tout  ce  que  je  vaux, 
tout  ce  que  je  suis,  je  le  dois  aux  voyages,"  is  his 
judgment.  Then  for  a  time  he  had  to  fight  the 
battle  of  life  in  hard  conditions.  The  first  thing 
was  to  assure  his  daily  bread.  He  did  that  by 
giving  private  lessons.  The  rest  of  his  time  he 
devoted  to  literature.  His  earliest  published 
works  are  poems,  some  of  them — and  notably  the 
volume  called  Les  Aveux — of  considerable  merit. 
In  1872  his  admirable  essay  on  Spinoza  appeared. 
He  was  beginning  to  be  known — and  to  be  appre- 
ciated by  the  wise  few — but  he  found  it  very 
difficult  to  find  the  entry  which  he  desired  into  the 
domain  of  remunerative  literature  :  *'  j'ai  eu  beau- 
coup  de  peine  a  forcer  la  porte  des  journaux,"  he 
writes.     In  1880,  however,  he  joined  the  staff  of 


264  VAME  MODERNE  [ch. 

a  newspaper,  now  long  defunct,  called  Le  Parle- 
ment,  and  was  assigned  the  duty  of  directing  the 
literary  portion  of  it.  In  1881  and  1882  he  pub- 
lished in  the  Nouvelle  Revue  the  studies  which  he 
collected  afterwards  under  the  title  of  Essais  de 
Psychologie  Contemporaine :  and  at  last  his  repu- 
tation was  made. 


IV 

It  was  in  1885  that  he  gave  to  the  world  his 
novel  Cnielle  knigme.  It  may  truly  be  said  to 
have  taken  the  world  by  storm.  I  remember  how 
I  read  it  through,  the  first  time,  at  a  sitting.  And 
now,  after  so  many  years,  if  I  take  it  up,  I  am 
little  less  under  the  spell.  The  theme  is  of  the 
simplest.  A  young  man  carefully  and  religiously, 
but  not  effeminately,  brought  up,  by  two  charmingly 
refined  ladies,  his  mother  and  his  grandmother, 
falls  a  victim  to  the  fascination  of  a  young  married 
woman,  who  under  a  graceful  and  ingenuous  exte- 
rior conceals  a  sensuous  nature  and  an  adulterous 
past.  She  delights  in  his  freshness  and  ignorance 
of  the  world.  To  him  she  is  Ilia  and  Egeria. 
Even  her  monstrous  infidelity  to  him  fails,  in 
the  event,  to  free  him  from  her  toils.  He  sinks 
to  her  level.  In  Mensonges  the  theme  is  some- 
what similar.  The  book  is  more  powerful :  the 
characters  are  more  strongly  drawn  :  the  psycho- 
logy  is   more   subtle  :     the   situations   arc   more 


VII]      VARIATIONS  ON  ONE   THEME     265 

accentuated.  But  Susanne  Morannes  is  cast  in 
the  same  mould  as  Therese  de  Sauve,  and  Rene 
Vincy  is  of  the  same  type  as  Hubert  Liauran.  I 
need  not  dwell  here  on  the  long  succession  of 
masterpieces  which  have  followed  these  two. 
Adequately  to  deal  with  M.  Bourget's  contribu- 
tions to  French  literature  would  require  a  volume. 
But  what  I  want  to  point  out  here  is  that  all  his 
novels,  if  I  may  so  speak,  hold  together.  They 
are  all  variations  upon  one  and  the  same  theme. 
It  has  been  observed — and  truly — that  his  two 
volumes  of  Essais  PsycJwlogiques  are  a  sort  of 
grammar  of  which  they  are  illustrations.  I  said 
just  now  that  he  confines  himself  to  what  we  may 
call  experimental  or  applied  psychology.  Still  he 
is  not  a  mere  psychologist.  His  method  is 
analytical.  But  he  does  not  analyse  merely  for  the 
sake  of  analysing,  impelled  by  scientific  curiosity, 
or,  as  Plato  has  it,  "  wise  wonder."  The  psycho- 
logist, pure  and  simple,  desires  to  penetrate  to 
the  very  depths  of  the  soul  in  order  to  know  the 
most  secret  springs  of  men's  actions,  and  is  satisfied 
if  he  finds  them.  But  such  knowledge  does  not 
content  M.  Bourget.  He  proceeds  to  judge. 
Sensitiveness  to  moral  good  and  evil  is  written 
on  every  one  of  his  pages,  and  is  written  ever  more 
strongly  as  the  years  go  on.  He  becomes  ever 
more  keenly  alive  to  the  ethical  import  of  the 
social  phenomena  which  he  describes.  The  title 
of  his  early  book  Cruelle  Enigme  is  most 
significant.     That  is  all  he  has  to  say  by  way 


266  VAME  MODERNE  [ch. 

of  comment  upon  this  sad  story  of  the  ravages, 
the  irreparable  destruction,  wrought  by  passion. 
"  Cruelle  Enigme  :  cruelle,  cruelle  enigme  !  "  But 
why  are  these  things  so  ?  Is  there  any  explana- 
tion of  the  riddle  ?  No  :  he  has  none  to  give. 
The  question  remains  without  an  answer,  *'  comme 
le  trahison  de  la  femme,  la  faiblesse  de  I'homme, 
comme  le  duel  de  la  chair  et  de  I'esprit,  et  comme 
la  vie  meme  dans  ce  tenebreux  univers  de  la  chute — 
cruelle,  cruelle  enigme  !  "  In  the  concluding  page 
of  his  Crime  d' Amour,  he  gets  beyond  this.  The 
wretched  hero  of  that  most  powerful  but  most 
horrible  and  revolting  story,  finds,  "  a  reason  for 
living  and  acting "  in  "  le  respect,  la  piete,  la 
religion  de  la  souffrance  humaine."  And  so,  step 
by  step,  he  reaches  the  distinctly  Christian  con- 
clusion which  we  find  embodied  in  Cosmopolis,  in 
L'Echeance,  in  Le  Fantome,  in  Le  Disciple.  It  is  a 
conclusion  which  a  still  greater  master  of  French 
romantic  fiction  had  anticipated.  He  does  but 
follow  Balzac  in  holding  Christianity  to  be  *'  a 
complete  system  of  repression  of  the  depraved 
tendencies  of  man  and  the  greatest  element  of 
social  order,"  ^  in  regarding  ''  all  the  religious 
observances,  so  minute  and  so  little  understood 
which  Catholicism  ordains,  as  so  many  dykes  neces- 
sary to  hold  back  the  tempests  of  evil  within."  " 

M.  Bourget  has  now  definitely  thrown  in  his 
lot  with  the  religious  tradition  of  Old  France  which 

^  CEuvres  de  Balzac,  vol.  i.  p.  7. 
*  Ibid.,  vol.  vi.  p.  542. 


VII]  BOURGETS  CONCLUSIONS  267 

the  Revolution  sought  and  still  seeks  to  destroy. 
In  his  books  he  examines  man  and  society  as  they 
exist.  The  task  to  which  he  has  set  himself  is, 
in  the  words  of  Lemaitre,  "to  reflect  and  embody 
the  soul  of  a  certain  literary  epoch."  To  this 
task,  as  M.  Edmond  Rod  puts  it,  "  he  has  devoted 
one  of  the  most  complete,  the  best  equipped  and 
the  most  comprehensive  intellects  of  the  time." 
And  the  conclusions  at  which  he  arrives  are  that 
human  existence,  an  existence  really  human  and 
not  bestial,  is  possible  only  when  man  lives  under 
a  law  strong  enough  to  destroy  the  anarchy  of  his 
senses ;  and  that  the  only  law,  in  the  Western 
world,  at  all  events,  which  possesses  that  strength, 
is  Christianity.  This  is  the  issue  of  his  fruitful 
doubt — the  doubt  of  which  Abelard  speaks  :  "  By 
doubting  we  are  led  to  inquire  :  by  inquiry  we 
perceive  the  truth." 


V 

And  now,  before  I  go  further,  there  is  one  point 
upon  which  I  ought  to  say  something.  There 
are  critics  worthy  of  all  respect — and  I,  for  my 
part,  yield  it  to  them  ungrudgingly — who  would 
doubtless  say,  "  All  that  you  have  written  about 
the  high  gifts  of  M.  Paul  Bourget  is  unquestionabty 
true.  But  are  they  not  marred,  stained,  perverted 
by  sensuality  ?  Does  he  not  dwell  too  much,  and 
too  immodestly,  upon  merely  carnal  desires  and 


268  UAmE  MODERNE  [ch. 

animal  passions— upon  things  of  which  St.  Paul 
judges,  "  It  is  a  shame  even  to  speak  of  them  ?  " 
Well,  the  objection  cannot  be  properly  met,  as 
some  seek  to  meet  it,  by  a  repudiation  of  English 
prudery,  or  by  the  reply— true  enough  in  itself— 
made  by  others,  that  a  French  novelist  does  not, 
as  a  rule,  write  virginibtts  puerisquc,  but  for  men. 
No  doubt  it  may  be  rightly  urged  that  the  business 
of  an  author  of  romantic  fiction  is  to  describe 
things  as  they  are,  not  as  they  are  not.  But  the 
novelist  too  is  under  the  moral  law  which  embraces 
every  segment  of  civilized  life:  nay,  it  may  be 
truly  said  that  he  has  a  cure  of  souls.  He  is,  and 
cannot  help  being,  a  teacher.  There  can  hardly 
be  any  more  important  question  than  that  of 
the  ethos  of  a  popular  work  of  fiction.  And  it  is 
in  the  author's  treatment  rather  than  in  his  choice 
of  his  subject  that  his  ethos  comes  out.  The  test  is 
what  is  the  impression  left  upon  a  healthy  mind, — a 
mind  infected  neither  by  prudery  nor  by  prurience, 
which  are  merely  different  forms  of  the  same  moral 
disease.  Now  if  we  judge  certain  of  M.  Paul 
Bourget's  novels  by  that  test,  what  must  be  our 
verdict  on  them  ?  Take,  for  example,  his  Crime 
d' Amour.  The  last  thirty  pages  are  admirable. 
I  hardly  know  where  to  turn  for  a  more  passionate 
and  persuasive  exhibition  of  the  moral  agonies 
which,  by  the  nature  of  things,  arc  bound  up  in- 
separably with  the  crime  whereof  he  has  been 
writing — the  crime  of  high  treason  against  the 
most  sacrosanct  of  human  affections.     Those  pages 


VII]     THE  TRADITION  OF  LUBRICITY    269 

go  far  to  redeem  and  explain  all  that  has  gone 
before.  But  still — I  put  it  to  any  man  of  the 
world  who  has  carefully  read  the  book — does  not 
the  sensuous  impression  of  certain  voluptuous 
scenes,  of  certain  *'  audacities  of  description  "  (to 
use  the  author's  own  phrase)  in  the  earher  chapters, 
gradually  dim,  if  it  does  not  quite  efface,  this 
stern  and  lofty  teaching  ?  ^  "  Tout  cela,  c'est  de 
grandes  saletes,"  says  the  Abbe  Taconet  towards 
the  end  of  Mensonges.  It  is  too  true  of  too  much 
of  M.  Bourget's  work.  He  has  described  himself, 
half  apologetically,  as  *'  Un  MoraUste  de  Deca- 
dence." I  suppose  it  is  difficult  for  him  to  escape 
from  the  contamination  of  the  intellectual  atmo- 
sphere which  he  breathes,  from  the  yoke  of  the 
tradition  of  lubricity  so  firmly  established  in 
French  fiction.  Assuredly  he  has  not  always 
escaped.  As  we  look  through  some  of  his  books, 
we  may  almost  say  that  illicit  love  is  his  irov  aTco 
whence  his  whole  world  is  moved.  Man  is  appar- 
ently conceived  of  in  them  as  an  essentially  adul- 
terous animal.  "  First  catch  your  hare,"  enjoins 
the  ancient  oracle  of  British  cookery.  "  First 
find  your  neighbour's  wife,"  prescribes  the  French 
novelist,  and  then  proceed  to  corrupt  her,  secundum 
artem,  with  all  due  gravity.  For  one  thing  notable 
about  most  French  fiction  is  the  utter  absence  of 

1  I  find  in  M.  Henry  Bordeaux's  book,  before  cited,  a  similar 
judgment.  He  remarks  of  Un  Crime  d'Amoiiv  and  Cruelle 
Enigme,  "  sans  doute  on  pent  dire  de  ces  deux  livres  qu'ils 
s'attardent  aux  dangers  de  la  chair  au  risque  d'en  y  communiquer 
la  fievre." — P.  279. 


270  UA3IE  MODERNE  [cH. 

humour    in    it.     "  Thou    knowest,    dear    Toby/' 

quoth  Mr.  Shandy,  *'  that  there  is  no  passion  so 

serious  as  lust."     Well,  I  say  that  this  lubricity 

is  the  capital  sin  of  French  novelists,  and  it  is  a 

sin  against  the  laws  of  art  as  against  the  laws  of 

ethics.     For  beauty  and  morality  spring  from  the 

same  eternal  fount ;    they  are  expressions  of  the 

same  immutable  truth  :    they  are  different  sides 

or  aspects  of  the  same  thing  :    of  reason,  order, 

harmony,    right.     And   so    Kant,    in   a   pregnant 

passage  of  his  Critique  of  Judgment.     "  Only  the 

productions  of  liberty — that  is,  of  a  volition  which 

founds  its  actions  upon  reason — ought  properly 

to  be  called  art."     This  dictum  goes  to  the  root 

of  the  matter.      The  true  starting-point  of  the 

controversy  is  Free  Will.     If  we  may  choose  what 

we  will  habitually  dwell  upon  in  our  thoughts — 

and  no  man  who  has  not  sophisticated  his  intellect 

away  can  doubt  that  this  is  largely  in  our  own 

power — the  question  arises,  whether  we  have  any 

right  to  be  indifferent  to  the  sort  of  facts  with 

which  we  surround  ourselves,  which  we  habitually 

contemplate,   and  which  leave  their  impression, 

through  the  channel  of  the  senses,  upon  the  hidden 

man  of  the  heart.     Are  all  facts  ethically  equal 

and  indifferent  ?     Is  it  enough  that  a  thing  should 

be  true,  to  justify  us  in  considering  it  in  all  its 

bearings,    and    in    exposing   ourselves    to    all    its 

seductions  ?     What    calls    itself    free    thought — 

God  only  knows  why,  for  instead  of  thought,  I 

find   in   it   claptrap  phrases,   instead  of  freedom 


VII]       NAKED  AND  NOT  ASHAMED       271 

slavery  to  the  basest  passions — boldly  answers. 
Yes.  Modern  and  ancient  Determinism  tells  us 
that  the  question  is  idle,  for  that  we  cannot  help 
ourselves.  Well,  I  assert,  on  the  contrary,  that 
we  can  help  ourselves,  and  that  we  ought  to  do 
so.  I  say  that  there  are  truths  which  it  is  well 
not  to  know,  and  which  it  is  our  duty  not  to  dwell 
upon,  if  we  do  know  them — truths  which  tend  to 
debase  and  destroy  a  being  like  man,  who  is  not 
constituted  wholly  of  spirit,  but  of  spirit  and  sense. 
I  say  that  the  great  moral  principles  of  reserve, 
shame,  reverence,  have  their  perpetual  application 
in  art,  as  in  every  sphere  of  civilized  life.  A  savage 
is  naked  and  not  ashamed,  because  all  facts  are 
to  him  equally  devoid  of  moral  significance. 
Much  of  French  fiction  is  naked,  and  not  ashamed, 
for  a  far  worse  reason  :  all  facts  that  possibly  can, 
acquire  in  it  an  immoral  significance.  The  late 
Lord  Acton,  I  remember,  somewhere  speaks  of 
George  Sand's  "  ignominious  novels.''  He  is  quite 
right.  She  wrote  too  many — Lelia,  Valentine, 
Jacques  occur  to  my  mind  as  examples — which 
amply  merit  the  epithet.  And  I  cannot  deny  that 
it  is  applicable  to  some  pages  in  M.  Bourget's 
works. 

I  have  all  this  time  been  speaking  about  M. 
Paul  Bourget  :  and  now  I  will  let  him  speak  for 
himself.  I  will  put  before  my  readers  a  brief 
sketch  of  two  of  his  books  which  are  of  especial 
interest  for  my  present  purpose  as  exhibiting  the 
view  which  he  is  led  to  take  of  certain  tendencies 


272  VAME   MODERNE  [ch. 

of  thought,  of  certain  social  phenomena  in  the 
New  France  where  his  lot  is  cast.  Those  of  my 
readers  who  are  not  acquainted  with  the  two 
works  before  me,  will,  I  feel  sure,  thank  me  for  an 
introduction  to  them.  Those  who  have  read  them 
will  not  be  displeased  to  renew  acquaintance  with 
them. 


VI 

One  of  the  novels  of  M.  Bourget  which  I  have 
selected  for  my  present  purpose  is  Le  Fantome.  I 
shall  first  give  a  succinct  account  of  it.  Then  I 
shall  endeavour,  as  briefly,  to  estimate  its  didactic 
significance. 

The  story  opens  on  a  bright  May  morning  in 
1894.  M.  Philippe  D'Andiguier,  the  well-known 
collector  of  quattrocento  works  of  art,  is  pacing  the 
large  room  in  his  appartement,  which  serves  as  a 
gallery  for  his  treasures,  a  prey  to  an  agitation  at 
which  *'  his  colleagues  in  quattrocento  mania  " 
would  have  been  much  astonished  if  they  had  known 
the  cause  of  it.  He  is  a  man  of  sixty-four,  whose 
life,  sad  and  stainless,  has  for  many  years  past 
been  chiefly  spent  in  accumulating  the  master- 
pieces now  surrounding  him,  to  a  description  of 
which  M.  Bourget  devotes  six  admirable  pages, 
making  us  know  them  almost  as  well  as  their 
possessor  can  have  known  them.  He  excuses 
himself  gracefully  for  his  proUxity.     He  has  to  tell 


vn]  A  PURE  AND  PEACEFUL  ROMANCE  273 

the  story  of  so  lamentable  a  moral  aberration,  to 
study  and  exhibit  a  psychical  anomaly  of  such 
criminal  pathology,  that  he  may  well  linger  by  the 
elderly  collector  amid  the  delicate  and  beautiful 
things  assembled  in  that  appartement  in  the 
Faubourg  St.  Germain,  before  proceeding  to  his 
task.  "  So  does  the  surgeon,  on  the  threshold  of 
a  hospital,  pause  to  look  at  the  fresh  flowers  exposed 
for  sale  in  the  open  air,  in  order  to  realize,  for  a 
moment,  that  there  are  other  things  in  this  world 
than  bodies  eaten  away  by  ulcers,  than  purulent 
sores,  and  human  agonies." 

And  now  let  me  unfold  the  cause  of  M.  D'Andi- 
guier's  emotion.  There  has  been  a  romance  in  his 
life,  a  pure  and  peaceful  romance,  round  which  it 
has  for  years  centred.  His  youth,  his  early  man- 
hood, has  been  devoted  to  the  care  of  his  mother, 
who  had  lost  her  reason  on  the  death  of  his  father. 
He  could  not  bear  her  removal  to  a  maison  de  sanU. 
He  had  consecrated  his  leisure  to  her — he  held  an 
appointment  in  the  Cour  des  Comptes — never 
marrying,  and  finding  his  one  pleasure  in  collecting 
quattrocento  works  of  arts.  When  he  is  past  forty, 
she  dies,  and  his  occupation  seems  gone.  He 
travels  for  a  time  in  Italy,  and  on  his  way  home 
stops  at  a  little  village  on  the  lake  of  Como,  intend- 
ing merely  to  spend  the  night  there. 

"  Good  God,  how  strange  a  thing  is  destiny  !  What  a 
surprise  it  would  have  been  to  that  traveller,  who  bore  every- 
where the  imprint  of  care — in  his  withered  eyelids  and  cheeks, 
in  the  red  patches  on  his  complexion,  in  the  greyness  of  his 

T 


274  VAME  MODERNE  [ch. 

tufts  of  hair,  in  his  stooping  shoulders — if  any  one  had  told 
him  that  a  child  of  twenty  would  make  her  way  into  his  heart 
that  very  evening,  never  to  quit  it ;  and  that  this  would  be 
brought  about  by  the  most  commonplace  incidents  of  hotel 
life  :  the  mere  contiguity  of  two  rooms,  an  open  window,  and 
a  little  curiosity." 

Philippe  D'Andiguier  is  in  his  chamber  about 
to  make  a  brief  toilet  for  the  seven-o'clock  dinner 
of  the  hotel,  when  he  steps  into  the  balcony  before 
his  room,  to  look  at  the  magnificent  view.  His 
attention  is  arrested  by  a  sound  of  sobbing  in  the 
next  room.  He  listens,  not  unnaturally.  Yes  ; 
it  is  violent  sobbing  broken  by  hardly  articulate 
cries,  "  Ah,  mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu," — and  it  is  a 
woman's  voice.  Without  reflecting  upon  what  he 
is  doing,  he  steps  across  the  slight  barrier  which 
divides  his  balcony  from  that  of  the  adjoining 
chamber,  and  sees  through  its  open  window  a 
young  girl  in  an  agony  of  distress  ;  fair,  with  blue 
eyes,  with  small  and  delicate  features,  charming 
teeth  and  dainty  hands  and  feet.  She  is  extremely 
pretty  ;  that  is  evident  at  once  to  this  lover  of 
art.  As  evident  is  the  despair  in  which  she  is 
plunged.  She  notices  him,  and  giving  a  little  cry, 
shuts  her  window,  the  purple  of  shame  on  her 
face.  He  for  his  part  is  ashamed  of  his  unpardon- 
able curiosity,  and  doubts  whether  he  will  go  down 
to  dinner.  But  he  does,  and — grave  official  of 
forty  as  he  is — bestows  unusual  care  on  his  toilet. 
In  the  hall  of  the  hotel  he  finds  the  young  lady 
with  her  father,  M.  Andre  de  Monteran,  who  turns 
out  to  be  an  old  colleague  of  his,  and  heartily 


VII]  A  SIMPLE  SECRET  275 

welcoming  him,  introduces  him  to  Mme.  de  Monte- 
ran  and  to  Mademoiselle  Antoinette — and  also  to 
M.  Albert  Duvernay,  a  young  man  whom  the  girl 
is  about  to  marry. 

This  is  the  beginning  of  D'Andiguier's  acquain- 
tance with  Antoinette  de  Monteran.  Her  face  now 
wears  a  mask — the  mask  of  a  conventional  smile — 
as  she  returns  his  salute.  But  he  notes  a  heightened 
colour  on  her  fair  cheeks,  and  a  look  of  entreaty  in 
her  blue  eyes.  He  gazes  with  wonder  at  the  calm 
of  her  delicate  and  charming  face,  so  lately  con- 
vulsed with  sorrow  :  pure  and  virginal  it  is  :  a 
sort  of  distant  sweetness  or  sweet  aloofness 
written  on  it  :  gracious  and  at  the  same  time  in- 
accessible. The  mystery  veiled  by  her  modest 
and  tranquil  appearance — to  his  keen  and  in- 
structed eyes  the  tranquillity  seems  a  little  forced 
— adds  to  the  interest  with  which  her  personal 
charm  invests  the  young  girl  for  him.  Soon  she 
recovers  from  the  embarrassment  which  her  re- 
cognition of  him  naturally  causes  her.  Soon  he 
divines  her  secret — it  is  not  a  difficult  one.  She 
is  to  marry  a  man  whose  coarse  and  vulgar 
appearance  revolts  her,  as  well  it  may,  for  it  is 
the  outward  visible  sign  of  a  coarse  and  vulgar 
nature.  The  Monterans  are  on  the  verge  of  ruin, 
and  are  giving  their  daughter  to  this  wealth}^ 
clod  :  and  she — poor  child — accepts  the  marriage, 
for  she  knows  what  her  parents'  situation  is, 
and  looks  forward  to  paying  their  debts  and 
rendering   their   life   easier.     As   he   watches   the 


276  L'A3IE  MODERNS  [ch. 

two  fiances,  so  unlike,  so  ill-suited,  D'Andiguier 
understands  too  well  the  young  girl's  sobs  and 
despairing  cry.  He  soon  wins  her  confidence ; 
her  pure  and  noble  nature  responds  to  his  purity 
and  nobleness.  The  day  before  he  leaves,  he 
ventures  to  speak  to  her  about  her  approaching 
marriage,  pleading  in  excuse  for  his  temerity, 
his  age,  his  long  acquaintance  with  her  father, 
his  respectful  and  deep  sympathy  with  her  and — 
well,  a  certain  circumstance  on  which  he  need 
not  dwell,  and  entreats  her  not  to  take  an  irre- 
parable step  before  she  reflects,  before  she  well 
reflects.  She  answers  quickly  that  she  has  well 
reflected — yes,  well  reflected  :  that  she  knows 
what  she  is  resolved  to  do — yes,  resolved — because 
she  ought  to  do  it  :  and  as  to  that  "  circumstance  " 
to  which  he  has  alluded — "  Ah,"  he  interrupts, 
"  I  have  offended  you."  "  Perhaps  I  ought  to 
be  offended,"  she  replies  with  a  smile  of  melancholy 
sweetness ;  "  but,  although  I  have  known  you  such 
a  httle  time,  I  have  so  much  esteem  for  you,  so 
much  trust  in  you,  that  I  am  inclined  to  thank 
you."  And  then,  with  girlish  dignity  and  grace, 
she  leaves  him,  telling  him  to  come  and  see  her 
after  she  is  married.  "  And  we  shall  be  friends, 
if  you  know  how  to  forget  what  should  be  for- 
gotten, and  to  remember  the  rest." 

They  are  friends  for  the  remainder  of  her 
brief  life — fourteen  years,  during  which  his 
chivah-ous,  unselfish,  adoring  devotion  ever 
attends  her. 


VII]  A  SUDDEN  CATASTROPHE        277 

"At  forty,"  observes  the  author,  "if  a  man  has  led  a 
pure  life,  as  this  man  had,  pure  in  deed,  and  in  thought,  a 
life  ennobled,  like  this  man's,  by  daily  sacrifice  to  some  high 
idea,  whether  it  be  family  duty,  or  religious  faith,  cult  of  science 
or  of  art,  his  feelings  preserve  a  freshness  and  a  nobility  which 
render  him  capable  of  emotions,  rare  indeed,  and  scoffed  at 
by  vulgar  scepticism  :  feelings  which  may  be  likened  to 
literary  masterpieces,  exceptional  but  undeniable." 

Antoinette's  marriage  turns  out  unhappily — 
as  might  have  been  expected.  Her  husband  has 
nothing  in  common  with  her  :  and,  his  physical 
caprice  once  gratified,  she  ceases  to  interest  him. 
A  daughter  Eveline  is  born  to  her,  a  daughter 
who  singularly  resembles  her  in  appearance  and 
character ;  and  in  a  short  time  her  husband  dies. 
She  makes  up  her  mind  not  to  marry  again.  She 
devotes  herself  to  her  daughter,  goes  little  into 
society,  and  sees  much  of  D'Andiguier,  whose 
devotion  to  the  mother  is  extended  to  the  child. 
Then,  the  blow  suddenly  falls  upon  him,  putting 
a  tragic  end  to  the  happiness  which  he  had  fondly 
hoped  might  last  indefinitely.  One  day  when 
Antoinette  is  driving  in  the  Champs-Elysees,  the 
horses  of  her  carriage  take  fright.  The  vehicle 
is  broken  to  pieces.  Antoinette  is  thrown  out 
and  killed  on  the  spot.  D'Andiguier  learns  the 
appalling  news  by  telegram  while  he  is  making  a 
tour  in  Italy. 

He  learns  too  that  Antoinette  has  made  him  her 
executor  and  Eveline's  guardian.  When  her  will 
is  found,  there  is  found  with  it  a  letter  addressed 
to  him,   in  which  she   thanks  him,   in  touching 


278  UAME  MODERNE  [ch. 

words,  for  his  long  and  tried  friendship,  and  begs 
him  to  give  a  last  proof  of  it  by  destroying,  unread, 
the  papers  which  he  will  find  in  a  certain  coffer. 
He  obej^s  her  with  his  usual  scrupulous  fidelity — 
but  he  is  unable  to  refrain  from  wondering  at  the 
request.  Then  he  remembers  how,  at  the  date 
which  the  will  bears,  Antoinette's  beauty  seemed 
to  have  suddenly  developed :  how  happiness 
seemed  radiated  from  her  eyes,  her  smile,  her 
least  gestures.  Could  it  be  that  then  she  loved 
and  was  loved  ?  But  no  :  he  recalls  also  the  men 
he  used  to  meet  in  her  house  :  none  of  them  could 
possibly  have  instilled  such  a  sentiment  in  her. 
Besides,  would  she  not  have  told  him  ?  She  used 
to  tell  him  everything  !  He  thinks  of  Eveline — 
to  exorcise  these  unworthy  imaginations.  Eveline 
remains  to  him  :  his  adored  dead  friend  lives  still 
for  him  in  her  child. 

And  now  Eveline  is  married :  married  to 
Etienne  Malclerc,  a  man  of  thirty-four,  whom  she 
had  met  at  Hyeres,  and  had  accepted  after  an 
acquaintance  of  four  months.  He  is  four-and- 
thirty,  but  looks  younger  :  of  good  family,  fair 
fortune  and  unblemished  reputation.  He  has 
travelled  a  great  deal,  and  has  published  a  volume 
of  Impressions  de  Voyage,  in  which  D'Andiguier 
finds  tokens  of  real  culture.  He  has  called  on 
D'Andiguier  who  does  not  quite  know  what  to 
make  of  him.  He  is  slight,  of  a  Florentine  t3^pe 
of  features,  bearing  the  imprint  of  a  sort  of  refined 
arrogance  and  delicate  brulalit}',  the  face  rather 


VII]       SYMPATHY  OR  ANTIPATHY?     279 

long,  the  nose  straight  and  short,  the  chin  pro- 
minent and  square,  the  hair  brown  with  a  reddish 
tinge,  the  eyes,  too,  brown,  and  sometimes  looking 
like  two  dark  spots  on  his  clear  complexion.  No  : 
D'Andiguier  does  not  know  whether  the  feeling 
the  younger  man  gives  him  is  the  prelude  to  a  deep 
sympathy  or  a  decided  antipathy. 

And   so   Etienne   Malclerc   and   Eveline   were 
married,  and  went  on  a  long  tour  in  Italy  ;   and  at 
the  time  when  this  story  opens  they  had  returned 
to  Paris,  and  D'Andiguier  was  expecting  a  visit 
from  Eveline,   and,   as  we  saw,   was  pacing  the 
great  room  of  his  appartement,  which  served  as 
the  gallery  for  his  art  treasures,  in  much  agitation. 
There  was  good  cause  for  it.     He  had  already 
seen  the  girl  since  her  return,  and  had  been  dis- 
tressed to  find  her  thin  and  pale,  and  sad-looking  : 
a  sort  of  sad  look  which  he  remembers  on  her 
mother's    face,    at    a    like    period    of    expectant 
maternity.     Has  her  mother's  experience,    then, 
been  repeated   in   her   young    life  ?     Was  it  the 
same    story   of    a    man's    passion    without  love, 
and   satiety   after   possession  ?      The   note,    ask- 
ing him  to  see  her  at  once,  was  not  calculated 
to  reassure  him.     It  spoke  of  a  terrible  misfor- 
tune that  had  befallen  her.     What  can  it  be  ? 
D'Andiguier's  restlessness  increases,  until  the  clock 
strikes  five,  the  hour  he  had  appointed  for  Evehne's 
visit :   and  she  enters. 

Ah  !    what  a  vision  for  the  tender-hearted  old 
man.     He  had  not  seen  the  girl  for  some  days ; 


280  rlME  MODERNE  [ch. 

she  looked  ill  enough  then.  But  now — with  her 
wan  and  hollow  cheeks,  the  dark  circles  round 
her  eyes,  her  lips,  once  so  rosy,  discoloured  and 
parched  by  fever,  the  stigmata  of  suffering  im- 
printed on  her  pretty  face  so  fresh  and  mobile, 
and  the  pity  of  it  all  enhanced  by  her  condition  ! 
He  recalls  a  similar  visit  which  her  mother  paid 
him,  on  the  eve  of  her  birth — her  mother  suffering 
like  her  in  soul  and  body,  and  in  a  fit  of  sudden 
despairing  revolt  against  destiny.  At  last  the 
girl  tells  him  her  story.  Her  husband — well, 
from  the  first  Something  has  come  between  them  ; 
Something — she  knows  not  what — has  separated 
them  even  in  their  closest  intimacy  ;  her  husband 
is  the  victim  of  some  fixed  idea,  which  preys  upon 
him,  and  which  he  can  no  longer  endure.  Only 
last  night  on  awaking  at  three,  she  noticed  a  light 
in  his  room — it  is  next  hers — and  on  going  in 
found  him  seated  at  a  table  covered  with  papers, 
and  a  loaded  pistol  before  him  ;  and  there  was  a 
large  envelope  destined  apparently  to  receive  the 
papers,  and  it  bore  D'Andiguier's  name  newly 
written,  the  ink  was  scarcely  dry.  She  prevented 
the  intended  suicide,  and  he  gave  her  his  w^ord  of 
honour  not  to  destroy  himself ;  he  was  tender  to 
her,  nay  he  lavished  on  her  words  of  passionate 
love  :  but  he  did  not  tell  her  his  secret  :  he  did 
not  explain  what  that  Phantom  is  that  haunts 
him.  What  can  it  be  ?  No  ;  there  have  been 
no  scenes.  There  has  been  that  indefinable  Some- 
thing !     It  is  a  situation,  an  atmosphere.     Before 


VTi]  A  HAUNTING  PHANTOM  281 

they  were  engaged,  she  remembers,  he  sometimes 
had  sudden  fits  of  silence  and  sadness,  and  they 
ceased  after  the  betrothal — ah,  that  happy  time  1 
They  returned  after  the  marriage.  He  has  seemed 
to  love  her  passionately — and  yet,  and  yet,  she 
felt  somehow  that  it  was  not  love  for  her.  She 
had  thought  that  the  prospect  of  paternity  might 
tranquillize  him.  But  no ;  he  has  been  more 
troubled,  more  unquiet,  more  uncertain,  since  she 
told  him  of  it.  Her  old  friend — her  mother's  old 
and  true  friend — does  not  know  what  it  has  cost 
her  to  reveal  to  him  all  this  ;  what  a  blow  it  has 
been  to  her  pride,  to  that  fierte  du  /oyer  so  dear 
to  the  married  woman.  But  tell  him  she  must, 
or  go  mad  :  her  very  soul  is  so  bruised,  so  wounded. 
What  can  he  do,  does  he  ask  ?  Well,  would  he 
go  to  her  husband,  and  try  to  get  the  explanation 
of  that  terrible  secret  ?  He  will  do  anything  for 
her,  he  replies  :  anything  to  be  of  use  to  her. 
"  Ah,  you  save  me,  you  save  me  !  take  my  carriage, 
which  is  below.  How  I  shall  pray  till  you  come 
back." 

"  La  naiive  ardeur  de  sa  devotion  " — I  must  quote  this 
beautiful  and  touching  passage  in  the  original — "  la  naive 
ardeur  de  sa  devotion  la  fit,  quand  le  vieillard  fut  sur  le  pas 
de  la  porte,  courir  encore  une  fois  vers  lui,  pour  esquisser  le 
signe  de  la  croix  sur  son  front  et  sur  sa  poitrine.  Elle  revint, 
une  fois  seule,  s'agenouiler  en  effet  devant  le  fauteuil  ou  elle 
s'etait  assise,  durant  sa  longue  et  cruelle  confession.  Certes 
les  madones  des  vieux  maitres,  qui  ornaient  le  mus^e  de 
Philippe  d'Andiguier,  avaient  vu  bien  des  ferventes  oraisons 
monter  vers  elles,  quand  elles  souriaient  et  songeaient  dans 


282  L'AME  MODERNE  [ch. 

la  paix  des  chapelles  italiennes,  leur  patrie  d'origine.     Jamais 
plus  pur  et  plus  douloureux  coeur  ne  s'etait  repandu  a  leurs 
pieds,  que  celui  de  cet  enfant  de  vingt-deux  ans,  a  la  veille 
d'etre  mere,  et  qui  dans  cette  periode  d'un  debut  de  mariage. 
ou  tout  est  espoir,   lumiere,  confiance,   commencement,  se 
debattait  contre  un  mystere  dont,  helas  !  elle  n'en  soupgonnait 
pas  toute  I'amertume  !     S'il  flotte  dans  I'atmosphfere  invisible 
dont  sont  entourees  les  belles  ceuvres  d'art  quelques  atonies 
epars  des  emotions  qu'elles  ont  suscitees,  un  peu  des  ames 
qu'elles    ont    consolees    et    charmees,    certes    une    influence 
d'apaisement  dut  descendre  sur  cette  tete  blonde,  convulsive- 
ment  pressee  contre  ces  mains  jointes.  .  ,  .  Ou  va  la  pribre  ? 
Ouand  des  profondeurs  de  notre  etre  intime  jaillit  un  appel 
comme  celui-la  vers  la  cause  inconnue  qui  a  cree  cet  etre,  qui 
soutient  son  existence,  qui  recevra  sa  mort,  nous  ne  pouvons 
pas  comprendre  que  cet  appel  ne  soit  pas  entendu,  que  la 
cause  de  toute  pensee  n'ait  pas  de  pensee,  la  cause  de  tout 
amour  pas  d'amour.     Mais  quelles  sont  les  voies  de  cette 
communication  entre  le  mondede  I'epreuve,  ou  nous  avons  ete 
jetes  sans  le  demander,  et  le  monde  de  la  reparation  ou  nous 
aspirons  par  toutes  nos  fibres  saignantes,  dans  ces  minutes 
de  nos  agonies  interieurs  ?     Cela,  nous  ignorerons  a  jamais, 
comme  aussi  la  raison  de  cette  loi  d'expiation — du  sacrifice 
de  1 'innocent   pour  le   coupable — qui  pesait   sur  la  femme 
d'Etienne  Malclerc  sans  qu'elle  le  sut,  sans  quelle  eut  par 
elle-meme  rien  merite  que  du  bonheur." 

In  due  time  D'Andiguier  returns.  His  face 
does  not  tell  the  girl  anything.  It  is,  she  notes 
with  dismay,  expressionless,  like  a  mask  beneath 
which  nothing  can  be  read  but  the  consciousness 
of  great  responsibility  in  an  extremely  serious 
crisis.  He  says  that  he  has  seen  her  husband,  and 
that  Malclerc  had  repeated  to  him  the  explanation 
already  given  to  her  of  nervous  derangement,  and 
has  begged  that  the  events  of  the  last  night  might 


VII]  AH,  LA   MALHEU REUSE!  283 

not  be  spoken  of  between  them.  She  is  not  really 
satisfied.  But  would  her  old  and  true  friend,  her 
mother's  old  and  true  friend,  deceive  her  ?  She 
goes  ;  and  as  he  hears  the  door  of  the  house  close 
behind  her,  he  utters  a  cry :  "  Ah,  la  malheureuse  !  " 
Malclerc,  who  had  been  expecting  D'Andiguier, 
had  given  him  the  papers  which  Eveline  had  seen 
on  the  previous  night,  fragments  of  the  unhappy 
man's  diary,  revealing  his  terrible  secret.  D'Andi- 
guier had  glanced  at  them  as  he  drove  back  in 
Eveline's  carriage,  and  had  seen  enough  !  He  had 
seen  a  name  often  repeated  there  which  was  the 
key  of  the  enigma  :  the  name  of  Eveline's  mother, 
Antoinette :  the  idolized  name  which  death  had 
invested  for  him  with  a  more  sacred  devotion. 
And  now  he  nerves  himself  to  read  through  the 
fragments  of  the  journal  which  unfold  the  dolorous 
mystery.  Malclerc  had  met  Antoinette  some 
eighteen  months  before  her  death.  He  had  fallen 
deeply  in  love  with  her,  had  wooed  her  with  all 
the  ardour  and  intensity  of  his  passionate  nature, 
and  had  won  her.  Not  for  his  wife,  indeed.  His 
senior  by  some  years  as  she  was,  she  would  not 
do  him  the  wrong  of  marrying  him  ;  she  would 
be  an  old  and  faded  woman  while  he  was  still  in 
the  prime  of  life.  Nor  would  she  give  Eveline  a 
stepfather.  But  she  loves  him.  She  finds  in  her 
maturity  the  supreme  joy  denied  to  her  youth,  and 
she  does  not  repulse  it.  Religious  scruples  do  not 
trouble  her.  Nay,  she  makes  a  religion  of  her 
passion. 


284  rAME  MODERNE  [ch. 

"  God  is  love,"  she  tells  her  lover  ;  "  and  never  will  I 
believe  that  He  will  punish  us  for  loving.  He  punishes  only 
for  hating.  When  we  feel  in  our  heart  what  I  feel  for  you, 
we  are  with  Him  ;  He  is  with  us.  When  I  read  in  The 
Imitation  of  Christ  those  pages  about  love,  I  find  there  what 
I  experience  for  you." 

Antoinette  is  one  of  those  romantic  women 
who,  as  M.  Bourget  somewhere  tells  us,  transform 
physical  voluptuousness  by  sentiment :  a  woman 
who  gives  to  it  the  same  cult  as  to  her  moral 
emotions  :  a  woman  who — to  quote  his  own  words 
if  my  memory  rightly  retains  them — '*  aborde 
avec  une  piete  amoureuse,  presque  avec  une 
idolatrie  mystique,  le  monde  de  caresses  folles  et 
des  embrassements."  She  becomes  his  mistress, 
but  insists  on  keeping  him  wholly  apart  from  her 
home  existence.  He  never  enters  her  house. 
They  never  meet  in  society.  There  is  an  utter 
separation  between  their  life  of  love  and  her  life 
as  widow  and  mother.  Their  liaison  is  absolutelv 
secret.  Its  entire  clandestinity,  doubtless,  helps 
to  make  of  it  that  masterpiece  of  emotion  that  it 
was  for  them  :  "  le  doux  roman  cache  dc  nos 
tendresses,"  Malclerc  calls  it.  For  thirteen  months 
it  lasts  :  and  then  comes  the  accident  which  ends 
her  and  it. 

The  loss  of  Antoinette  is  as  the  bitterness  of 
death  to  Malclerc.  It  is  the  death  of  half  himself, 
and  the  best  half  ;  the  death  of  his  youth  and  of 
the  one  great  passion  which  had  been  the  soul  of 
his  youth.  And  yet  she  is  not  wholl}/  dead  to 
him.     Her  image  is  ever  before  his  mind.     In  vain 


VII]  OVERMASTERING  RESEMBLANCE  285 

does  he  seek  solace  in  other  women.  Her  sweet 
Phantom  ever  gUdes  between  him  and  them — "  se 
gUsse  entre  mes  maitresses  et  mon  etreinte  '' — 
recalhng  to  him  that  they  are  not  her  ;  that  he 
will  never  love  them  as  she  made  him  love  her.  He 
tries  to  distract  himself  with  travel,  with  literature. 
In  vain.  His  recollections  of  her — of  all  that  their 
hidden  intercourse  was  to  him — are  a  kind  of 
obsession.  No  :  death  has  not  quenched  his  love 
for  her.  She  has  passed  into  nothingness.  But  in 
her  nothingness  she  is  still  the  one,  the  only  woman 
for  him. 

And  so  seven  years  go  by.  And  then,  by  what 
we  call  accident,  he  finds  himself,  one  December, 
at  Hyeres.  Eveline  is  wintering  there  with  an 
aunt  who  has  taken  charge  of  her  since  her  mother's 
death.  He  sees  her,  for  the  first  time.  It  seems 
to  him  that  he  sees  his  lost  mistress  again  :  a 
younger  Antoinette,  and  a  gayer,  with  rounder 
cheeks,  with  the  freshness  of  youth,  and  with  a 
childish  brightness  over  her  face  which  he  had 
never  seen  on  the  other's  ;  but,  still,  Antoinette  ! 
The  same  features,  the  same  hair,  the  same  figure 
and  carriage  and  little  winning  gestures,  the  same 
profile  and  expression,  except,  indeed,  that  the 
look  of  the  other,  when  it  rested  on  him,  seemed  like 
a  caress  and  the  very  flame  of  love,  while  hers  does 
not  express  even  recognition,  for  she  does  not  even 
know  him !  The  resemblance,  striking  even  to 
hallucination,  overmasters  him.  It  is  as  though 
his  dead  mistress  had  come  back  to  life  ;  as  though 


286  VAME  3I0DERNE  [cii. 

his  dead  youth  had  left  the  tomb  in  which  it  sleeps 
beside  her  ;  as  though,  through  the  witchery  of 
a  likeness,  the  irreparable  past  had  become  the 
present.  I  have  not  space  to  trace  how  Malclerc 
falls,  more  and  more,  under  this  spell :  nor  would 
it  be  fair  to  M.  Bourget  to  attenuate  the  masterly 
pages  in  which  it  is  described.  He  is  introduced 
to  the  young  girl,  and  speedily  interests  her  as  much 
as,  in  years  gone  by,  he  had  interested  her  mother. 
She  soon  grows  to  love  him  :  and  he  knows  it,  in 
spite  of  her  virginal  shyness  and  religious  reserve. 
And  he — yes,  he  loves  her,  but  with  a  passion 
only  half  intelligible  to  himself  ;  with  a  complex 
emotion  where  remembrance  of  the  past  is  strangely 
blended  with  desire  of  the  future.  Still,  he  loves 
her  ;  that  child — who  should  be  nothing  but  a 
dream  to  him — has  made  his  heart,  which  he 
thought  dead,  beat  again  :  has  once  more  sent  the 
delicious  poison  through  his  veins.  But  how  can 
he  marry  her — after  he  has  been  her  mother's  lover  ? 
Has  been  ?  Yes,  and  is  still.  Is  it  the  dead  woman 
that  he  desires  in  the  living  ?  Horrible  !  He  is 
tortured  by  the  interior  conflict.  At  last,  he 
reasons  his  scruples  away.  Would  it  not  be  sheer 
madness  to  renounce  the  happiness  of  his  youth, 
thus  miraculously  resuscitated  for  him  just  when 
he  is  passing  into  middle  life  ?  All  those  seven 
weary  years  he  has  been  hungering  after  his  dead 
love,  consumed  with  the  vain,  vain  longing  that 
she  would  come  back  to  him.  And  she  has  come 
back  :    come  back  in  the  fragrance  of  her  youth 


VII]      UNREASONABLE  PREJUDICE?     287 

and  the  freshness  of  her  virginal  beauty.  She  loves 
him — that  sweet,  tender  child  !  And  shall  he 
sacrifice  the  supreme  joy  within  his  reach  to  the 
most  vulgar,  the  most  unreasonable  prejudice  ? 
When  he  entered  upon  manhood,  he  determined 
to  make  his  own  feelings  his  religion  ;  to  enjoy  his 
own  joys,  to  suffer  his  own  sufferings,  to  will  his 
own  will,  to  live  his  own  life,  in  entire  disregard  of 
conventions  and  tradition.  He  loved,  he  still  loves 
the  mother,  passionately,  profoundly.  He  loves 
the  daughter.  He  loves  them  both — the  one  dead, 
the  other  living.  That  is  the  truth,  his  heart's 
truth.  All  the  rest  is  make-believe.  Ah,  but  may 
he  love  the  daughter  as  he  has  loved  the  mother  ? 
May  he  ?  Why  not,  if  he  feels  the  same  love  ? 
He  does.  The  only  thing  that  withholds  him  from 
giving  free  course  to  his  passion  for  Eveline  is — 
the  fear  of  what  people  would  think  if  his  secret 
were  known.  A  cowardly  scruple  indeed  !  And 
if  Antoinette,  in  the  land  where  all  things  are  for- 
gotten, could  have  knowledge  of  his  position, 
would  she  not  say,  in  her  magnanimous  tenderness, 
"  Take  her,  love  her  ;  it  is  me  that  you  love  in  her  ; 
in  giving  you  her,  I  give  you  myself  again  ;  she  is 
young,  you  will  have  the  longer  time  to  love  me 
in  her." 

They  are  married  ;  and  from  the  first  moment 
of  their  married  life  his  punishment  begins.  The 
scales  fall  from  his  eyes,  even  when  they  are  in 
the  train  starting  on  their  honeymoon.  He  sees 
that  the  fancied  identity  between  his  old  love  and 


288  rAME  MODEENE  [ch. 

the  new  was  an  illusion.  He  ought  to  have  known 
that  it  was.  He  had  had  warnings.  One  came 
from  the  Abbe  Fronteau,  Eveline's  confessor,  to 
whom  he  went  for  the  customary  billet  de  confession, 
before  the  religious  marriage.  The  venerable 
priest  knew,  of  course,  that  he  was  a  libre  penseur, 
and  spoke  to  him  with  all  courtesy  and  reserve 
indeed,  but  still  deemed  it  right  to  utter  a  word  of 
warning. 

"  Your  future  wife  has  no  past  to  hide  from  you.  Of 
your  past  I  know  nothing  ;  but  I  feel  sure  that  the  moment 
you  decided  upon  this  marriage  you  freed  yourself  from  all 
other  sexual  ties,  in  thought,  as  in  deed  ;  that  you  approach 
the  altar  not  only  without  regrets — it  is  indeed  impossible  that 
you  should  entertain  them — but  without  remembrances.  If 
it  were  not  so,  you  would  profane  a  great  sacrament — you 
would  commit  a  real  sacrilege,  sure  to  be  visited  with  terrible 
punishment.  Deus  non  irridetiir :  God  is  not  mocked  with 
impunity." 

The  words  sink  to  the  very  primal  depths  of 
his  conscience,  and  for  a  moment  trouble  him 
strangely.  Had  the  Abbe,  who  assuredly  knew 
nothing  of  his  past,  thus  spoken  by  supernatural 
prompting  ?  No  ;  there  is  no  supernatural.  And 
yet — if  the  priest  was  right  ?  He  cannot  help 
a  shadow  of  superstitious  terror  at  this  appeal 
to  his  moral  sense.  Superstitious  ?  Yes ;  for 
what  is  the  moral  sense  but  an  exploded 
superstition  ? 

**  Si  pourtant  le  pretre  avait  raison  !  "  And 
he  is  ever  more  and  more  led  to  believe  that  the 
priest  was  right.     Deus  non  iryidctiir.     It  is  the 


VII]  DEUS  NON  IRRIDETUR  289 

Phantom  of  his  dead  love  which  is  made  the  aveng- 
ing angel  of  Eternal  Justice  ;  and  the  very  purity 
and  innocence  of  her  daughter  are  as  whips  to 
scourge  him.  Yes,  even  in  the  train  which  bears 
him  away  from  Paris  on  the  day  of  his  wedding, 
his  punishment  begins.  He  looks  into  his  bride's 
candid  eyes  as  she  nestles  gently  against  him,  and 
reads  there  the  unquestioning,  the  entire  confidence 
of  a  young  girl  who  gives  herself  wholly  to  the  man 
she  loves. 

"  II  y  eut  dans  ce  silencieux  et  tendre  mouvement,  quelque 
chose  de  si  virginal,  une  telle  innocence  ^manait  d'elle, 
que  le  baiser  par  lequel  je  lui  fermai  ses  chers  yeux  bleus, 
etait  celui  d'un  frere.  .  .  .  Au  lieu  de  presser  ces  levres, 
qu'aucun  baiser  d'amour  n'avait  jamais  touchees,  a  peine  si 
mes  levres  les  effleurerent.  Rien  que  d'avoir  associe,  une 
seconde,  i  cette  enfant,  qui  ne  saurait  de  la  vie  que  ce  que  je 
lui  en  apprendrais,  I'image  des  voluptees  goutees  autrefois 
aupres  de  sa  mere,  venait  de  me  donner  I'horreur  de  moi-meme. 
C'avait  ete  comme  si  je  me  preparais  a  lui  infliger  une  souillure. 
.  .  .  J'eprouvai  dans  toute  sa  force,  dans  toute  son  horreur, 
la  sensation  de  I'inceste." 

The  horror  deepens  in  him  day  by  day.     How 

should  it  be  otherwise  ?     By  his  intercourse  with 

the  mother  he  has  contracted  affinity  in  the  first 

degree  with  the  daughter.     It  is  no  idle  figment 

of  the  canonists.     It  is  a  truth  of  human  nature 

which  they  have  merely  clothed  in  ecclesiastical 

language.     The  claim  of  the  Catholic  Church  to  be 

the  embodied  conscience  of  mankind  is  more  easily 

vindicated  than  are  some  of  the  claims  sometimes 

made  for  her.     First,  unconquerable  trouble,  then, 

u 


290  L'AME   MODERNE  [ch. 

boundless  pity  for  the  girl  he  has  so  wronged,  and, 
at  last,  gnawing  remorse  fills  the  heart  of  Malclerc. 
Yes,  remorse.     He  writes  in  his  journal  :    "  L'idee 
que  j'ai  toujours  haie  comme  la  plus  mutilante  pour 
I'experience  sentimentale,  celle  de  la  responsabilite, 
s'eleve   en   moi,    s'empare   de   moi.     Je   me   sens 
responsable  vis-a-vis    d'elle.     J'ai    des    remords." 
He  learns  that  the  moral  law  is  no  superstition,  as 
he  had  supposed,  but  a  fact,  and  the  first  fact  of 
man's  being,  the  law  which  he  is  born  under  :  that 
punishment  is  not,  as  Milton  finely  puts  it,   "a 
mere    toy    of    terror,    awing    weak    senses,"    but 
"  law's   awful   minister,"    its   divinely   appointed 
sanction,   "  the  other  half  of  crime."     Deus  non 
irridetur.     And  if    death    does    not    end    all,    if 
Antoinette  still  exists  in  another  state,  and  has 
knowledge  of  his  marriage,  would  she,  as  he  madly 
dreamed,  approve  it  ?     Nay,  in  the  undiscovered 
country   whither   she   was   so   tragically   hurried, 
without  confession,  without  repentance,  may  not 
that   knowledge  be  her  hell — the  hell  in  which 
Eveline  believes,  who  is  not  a  visionary,  in  which 
that  priest  believes,  who  is  so  wise  ? 

Those  of  my  readers  who  would  know  more  of 
this  dolorous  story,  I  must  refer  to  M.  Bourget's 
own  pages.  It  is  a  story  worthy  of  the  pens  of  the 
old  tragedians  of  Hellas,  whose  themes  curiously 
resemble  it,  which  M.  Bourget  unfolds  in  this 
powerful  book  ;  the  most  powerful,  as  I  think,  of 
all  his  psychological  studies.  What  is  its  signifi- 
cance, its  ethical  significance  ?     I  need  hardly  sa}^ 


VII]  ART  AND  ETHICS  291 

that  M.  Bourget  is  too  true  an  artist  to  employ  a 
work  of  romantic  fiction  for  the  estabhshment  of  a 
thesis.  So  to  employ  it  would  be  fatally  to  pervert 
it  from  its  true  function,  according  to  that  admir- 
able dictum  of  Flaubert's:  "A  work  of  art 
designed  to  prove  anything,  nullifies  itself."  But 
the  phenomena  of  human  life,  whether  we  view 
them  as  existing  in  the  world  around  us,  or  as 
woven  into  the  picture  presented  by  the  novelist's 
imaginous  fancy,  have  a  significance,  an  ethical 
significance,  and  cannot  help  having  it. 

"Great  works  of  imagination,"  writes  Balzac,  "subsist 
by  their  passionate  side.  But  passion  is  excess,  is  evil.  The 
writer  has  nobly  accomplished  his  task  when,  not  setting  aside 
this  essential  element  of  his  work,  he  accompanies  it  with  a 
great  moral  lesson." 

What  then  is  the  lesson  deducible  from  these 
profound  and  pathetic  pages  of  M.  Bourget  ?  I 
take  it  that  Malclerc  is  a  type  of  a  class  of  men 
which  in  the  present  condition  of  French  education 
and  French  society,  is  far  from  uncommon,  and  is 
every  day  becoming  commoner.  He  belongs  to  a 
generation  in  which  the  beliefs  and  traditions  that 
for  so  man}^  centuries  held  society  together  in  Old 
France,  have  largely  disappeared.  That  order  of 
thought  and  practice  is  crumbling  away,  as  the 
ethical  and  religious  sanctions  which  had  main- 
tained it  disappear,  one  after  another. 

"  Excessere  omnes,  adytis  arisque  relictis, 
Di  quibus  imperium  hoc  steterat." 

Materialism  has  taken  the  place  of  morality. 


292  VAME  MODERNE  [ch. 

egotism  of  theism.  The  individual  is  his  own  law 
giver  and  his  own  law  :  self-deification,  autolatry 
— quisque  sihi  Deus — is  the  real  creed  of  millions. 
And  the  curious  thing  is  that  this  is  vindicated  in 
the  name  of  reason.  The  ancients  conceived  of 
reason  as  a  curb  to  hold  in  check  what  Plato  called 
*'the  wild  beast  within  us."  For  the  average 
lihre  penseur  it  is  a  weapon  wherewith  to  combat 
what  he  calls  **  superstition/'  by  which  he  means 
all  those  supersensuous  behefs  and  convictions 
which  act  as  a  restraint  on  imagination,  passion, 
action.  Malclerc  is  the  natural  result  of  the  ethical 
or  rather  unethical  teaching  of  the  French  lycee. 
Listen  to  his  creed  as  he  expounds  it. 

"  I  have  always  believed  that  man,  cast  upon  this  earth, 
in  a  world  which  he  will  never  understand,  by  a  cause  of  which 
he  knows  nothing,  and  for  an  end  of  which  he  is  utterly 
ignorant,  has  only  one  reason  for  existing  during  the  few  years 
that  are  accorded  him  between  two  nothingnesses  :  to  multiply, 
to  vivify,  to  heighten  in  himself,  all  strong  and  deep  sensations  ; 
and  as  love  contains  them  all  in  their  greatest  strength,  to 
love  and  be  loved." 

I  do  not  know  that  Malclerc,  holding  this  creed, 
could  reasonably  be  expected  to  shrink  from  acting 
as  he  does.  If  we  shut  out  the  eternal  horizons, 
if  we  hold  that  this  present  life  is  its  own  end  and 
object,  and  that  we  are  concerned  with  nothing 
above  or  beyond  it,  we  are  as  likely  as  not  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  corollary  that  all  means  of  enjoying 
life  arc  equally  good,  and  that  all  our  appetites, 
being  natural,  have  a  right  to  all  the  satisfaction 


vii]  THE  MORAL  LAW  293 

we  can  give  them.  Let  me  not  be  misunderstood. 
No  one  recognizes  more  unreservedly  than  I  the 
autonomy  of  the  moral  law,  or  has  more  unflinch- 
ingly contended  for  it.  I  hold  the  moral  law  to  be 
a  transcendent,  universal  order,  good  in  itself,  as 
being  supremely  reasonable  ;  the  rule  of  what 
should  be,  as  distinct  from  what  is :  its  own 
evidence,  its  own  justification.  I  hold  that  it  is 
independent  of  all  the  creeds,  and  would  sub- 
sist to  all  eternity,  as  it  has  subsisted  from  all 
eternity,  though  Christianity  and  every  other  form 
of  faith  were  swept  into  oblivion.  I  know  that 
such  is  the  moral  law.  But  I  know,  too,  that  to 
be  practically  operative  with  the  great  mass  of 
mankind,  it  needs  religious  sanctions.  Take  them 
away  and  what  sufficient  reason  will  the  vast 
majority  find  for  opposing  their  inclinations,  sub- 
duing their  passions,  thwarting  their  tastes  ? 
What  frenum  cupiditatis,  without  which  society 
must  fall  into  civilized  barbarism  and  hardly 
disguised  animalism  ? 


VII 

Commending  these  questions  to  the  considera- 
tion of  my  readers,  I  will  proceed  to  say  a  few  words 
about  another  novel  of  M.  Bourget's,  Le  Disciple, 
which  is  especially  interesting  from  the  point  of 
view  taken  in  this  Chapter.  He  strikes  the  keynote 
of  it  in  his  dedication  "  A  Un  Jeune  Homme,"  a 


294  L'AME  MODERNE  [ch. 

weighty    and   earnest    document.     Thus   does   it 
begin  : — 

"  C'est  a  toi  que  je  veux  dedier  ce  livre,  jeune  homme  de 
mon  pays,  a  toi  que  je  connais  si  bien  quoique  je  ne  sache 
de  toi  ni  ta  ville  natale,  ni  ton  nom,  ni  tes  parents,  ni  ta 
fortune,  ni  tes  ambitions — rien  sinon  que  tu  as  plus  de  dix- 
huit  ans  et  moins  de  vingt-cinq,  et  que  tu  vas,  cherchant 
dans  nos  volumes,  a  nous  tes  aines,  des  reponses  aux  questions 
qui  te  tourmentent.  Et  des  reponses  ainsi  rencontrees  dans 
ces  volumes,  depend  un  pen  de  ta  vie  morale,  un  peu  de  ton 
ame  ;  et  ta  vie  morale,  c'est  la  vie  morale  de  la  France  meme — 
ton  ame,  c'est  son  ame.  Dans  vingt  ans  d'ici,  toi  et  tes  freres 
vous  aurez  en  main  la  fortune  de  cette  vieille  patrie,  notre 
mere  commune,  Vous  serez  cette  patrie  elle-meme.  Ou'auras- 
tu  recueilli,  qu'aurez-vous  recueilli  dans  nos  ouvrages? 
Pensant  a  cela,  il  n'est  pas  d'honnete  homme  de  lettres,  si 
chetif  soit-il,  qui  ne  doive  trembler  de  responsabilite.  .  .  Tu 
trouveras  dans  Le  Disciple  1' etude  d'une  de  ces  responsa- 
bilites-la." 

And  now  let  us  turn  to  the  story. 

A  charming  young  girl,  Charlotte  de  Jussat,  is 
found  one  morning  dead  in  her  bed  in  her  father's 
chateau.  Her  face  is  livid.  Her  teeth  are  clenched. 
Her  eyes  are  extraordinarily  dilated.  Her  frame 
is  curved.  These  signs  of  poisoning  by  strychnine 
are  confirmed  by  the  post-mortem  examination. 
Suspicion  at  once  falls  upon  Robert  Grcslou,  who 
had  been  employed  in  the  family  as  a  tutor,  and 
who  had  left  the  chateau,  suddenly,  on  the  night 
of  the  girl's  death.  A  phial  bearing  no  label,  but 
containing  a  few  drops  of  nux  vomica,  is  found 
under  her  windows.  A  bottle,  half  full  of  the 
same  poison,  is  discovered  in  Grcslou's  room  ;  and 


VII]     A  PRESUMPTION  OF  MURDER      295 

the  village  apothecary  states  that  the  young  man 
had  obtained  it  from  him  some  six  weeks  before. 
A  footman  testifies  that  on  the  fatal  night  he  had 
seen  Greslou  leaving  her  room.  Others  of  the 
domestics  allege  that  the  relations  between  their 
young  lady  and  the  tutor,  formerly  somewhat 
intimate  and  confidential,  had  of  late  become 
manifestly  strained.  The  ministers  of  criminal 
justice  are  led,  by  these  and  other  facts  of  a  like 
kind,  to  conjecture  that  Greslou  had  fallen  in  love 
with  Charlotte  de  Jussat,  and  that,  finding  his 
advances  repelled,  he  had  infused  the  poison  into 
some  medicine  which  the  girl  was  to  take  at  night, 
his  object  being  to  prevent  her  from  marrying 
another  man  to  whom  she  was  betrothed.  Greslou 
is  arrested  and  committed  for  trial  at  the  forth- 
coming assizes.  In  prison  he  refuses  to  answer 
any  interrogatories,  and  spends  his  time  chiefly 
in  writing,  and  in  reading  the  philosophical  writings 
of  M.  Andre  Sixte,  of  whose  doctrines  he  is  an 
enthusiastic  disciple. 

M.  Andre  Sixte,  a  recluse  of  fifty,  lives,  and  has 
for  years  lived,  in  a  quiet  street  of  Paris  near  the 
Jardin  des  Plantes.  He  is  what  Rabelais  would 
have  cahed  "  an  abstractor  of  quintessences,"  the 
whole  formula  of  his  life  summed  up  in  the  one 
word  penser.  In  the  first  of  his  works.  La  Psycho- 
logic de  Dieu,  which  won  him  a  European  reputa- 
tion, he  directly  attacks  the  most  tremendous  of 
metaphysical  problems.  His  argument  is  that 
**  riiypothese-Dieu  "   is   necessarily   produced   b}^ 


296  rlME  MODERNE  [ch. 

the  working  of  certain  psychological  laws,  con- 
nected with  certain  cerebral  modifications  of  a 
purely  physical  order.  And  this  thesis  he  estab- 
lishes, confirms,  and  develops  with  an  atheistic 
bitterness  which  recalls  the  invectives  of  Lucretius. 
His  other  two  books  are  U Anatomie  de  la  Volonte 
and  Une  Theorie  des  Passions,  which  latter  work 
has  had  a  greater  succes  de  scandale  than  even 
La  Psychologic  de  Dieu.  The  substance  of  their 
teaching  is  this  :  The  human  intellect  is  impotent 
to  know  causes  and  substances  :  it  can  do  no  more 
than  co-ordinate  phenomena.  What  is  called  the 
soul  is  only  a  group  of  these  phenomena,  and  must 
be  investigated  according  to  the  methods  of  physical 
science.  The  genesis  of  the  forms  of  thought  is 
explicable  by  the  law  of  evolution.  Our  most 
refined  sensations,  our  subtlest  and  most  delicate 
moral  emotions,  as  well  as  our  most  shameful 
turpitudes,  are  the  ultimate  outcome,  the  supreme 
metamorphosis,  of  the  simplest  instincts ;  and 
these  are  a  mere  transformation  of  the  properties 
of  the  primitive  cell.  The  moral  universe  is  only 
the  consciousness,  pleasurable  or  painful,  of  the 
physical  universe.  In  this  connection  the  learned 
author  is  led  to  discuss  the  passion  of  love,  on  which 
subject  he  abounds  to  the  extent  of  two  hundred 
pages,  "  d'une  hardiesse  presque  plaisante  sous  la 
plume  d'un  homme  tres  chaste,  sinon  vierge." 
As  might  be  expected,  the  most  complete  Deter- 
minism pervades  the  book.  Liberty  of  volition, 
according  to  M.  Sixte,  is  the  greatest  of  illusions. 


VII]  M.  SIXTE  297 

Every  act  is  but  an  addition.  To  say  that  it  is 
free,  is  to  say  that  there  is  more  in  a  total  than  in 
the  elements  which  compose  it — an  absurdity  as 
great  in  psychology  as  in  arithmetic.  To  the 
philosopher  there  is  neither  crime  nor  virtue.  For 
our  volitions  are  facts  of  a  certain  order,  absolutely 
governed  by  certain  laws,  and  nothing  more. 

Such  is  the  philosophy  to  the  elaboration  of 
which  M.  Sixte  devotes  his  life  ;  a  life  led  with 
mechanical  regularity  and  in  absolute  detachment 
from  the  ordinary  interests  and  pursuits  of  men. 
Imagine  the  consternation  and  dismay  of  the 
savant  when  one  afternoon  a  citation  arrives, 
summoning  him  to  appear,  on  the  morrow,  before 
the  juge  d' instruction  for  examination  "  regarding 
certain  facts  and  circumstances  which  will,  in  due 
time,  be  made  known  to  him."  He  has  hardly 
recovered  from  the  stupor  into  which  he  is  plunged 
by  this  document  when  a  card  is  brought,  bearing 
the  name  of  Madame  veuve  Greslou,  and  begging 
that  he  will  receive  her  on  the  next  afternoon 
"  to  talk  with  her  regarding  the  crime  of  which 
her  innocent  son  is  falsely  accused."  M.  Sixte, 
who  never  looks  into  a  newspaper,  had  not  the  least 
notion  of  what  crime  Robert  Greslou  is  accused. 
All  he  knows  of  Robert  Greslou  is  that  a  young 
man  of  that  name  had  called  upon  him,  about  a 
year  before,  to  express  deep  gratitude  for  his 
writings,  and  that  he  had  been  greatly  struck  by 
the  erudition  and  power  of  reasoning  displaj^ed  by 
his  visitor,  who  had  since  addressed  to  him  a  few 


298  L'AME  MODERNE  [cii. 

letters  dealing  entirely  with  philosophical  questions. 
But  what  this  can  have  to  do  with  the  crime  of 
which  Greslou  is  accused,  passes  M.  Sixte's  compre- 
hension. 

The  next  day  M.  Sixte  presents  himself  at  the 
Palais  de  Justice.  When  he  is  announced  as  in 
attendance  the  juge  d' instruction,  M.  Valette,  a 
magistrate  of  the  new  school,  is  conversing  with  a 
friend,  a  man  about  town,  who  is  at  once  much 
interested. 

"  Hein  !  mon  vieux  Valette,  en  as-tu  de  la  chance  a  causer 
avec  cet  homme-la  ?  Tu  connais  son  chapitre  sur  1 'amour 
dans  je  ne  sais  plus  quel  bouquin.  .  .  .  Et  voila  un  lascar 
qui  connait  les  femmes.  Mais  sur  quoi,  diable,  as-tu  a  I'in- 
terroger  ?  " 

"  Sur  cette  affaire  Greslou,"  dit  le  juge  ;  "  il  a  beaucoup 
rc(;u  le  jeune  homme,  et  la  defense  I'a  cite  comme  temoin  a 
decharge.  On  a  lance  une  commission  rogatoire,  rien  que 
pour  cela." 

"  Quel  dommage  que  je  ne  puisse  pas  le  voir,"  dit  le  autre. 

"  Ca  te  ferait  plaisir  ?     Rien  de  plus  facile.     Je  vais  le 

fairc  introduire.     Tu  t'en  iras  comme  il  entrera.  ...  En  tout 

cas  c'est  convenu,  pour  ce  soir  k  huit  heures,  chez  Durand, 

Gladj's  y  sera  ?  " 

"  Convenu.  .  .  .  Tu  sais  son  dernier  mot,  i  Gladys, 
comme  nous  reprochions  devant  elle  h.  Christine  de  tromper 
Jacques  :  '  Mais  il  faut  bien  qu'elle  ait  deux  amants,  puisqu'elle 
dcpense  par  an  le  double  de  ce  que  cliacun  d'eux  lui 
donne.'  " 

"  Ma  foi,"  dit  Valette,  "  je  crois  que  celle-la  en  remontrerait 
sur  la  pliilosophic  do  I'amour  k  tous  les  Sixtes  du  monde  et 
du  demi-monde." 

The  two  friends  laugh,  and  the  viveur  takes  his 
leave  as  M.  Sixtc  is  introduced.     M.  Valette  at 


VII]  MORAL  PHENOMENA  299 

once  assumes  his  judicial  manner.  Man  of  pleasure 
as  he  is  outside  the  court — '*  goute  dans  le  demi- 
monde, ami  des  hommes  de  cercle  et  de  sport, 
emule  des  journalistes  en  plaisanteries  " — he  is  an 
extreme^  able  magistrate  within  it.  The  aspect 
of  the  timid,  eccentric  old  man  who  stands  before 
him,  evidently  most  ill  at  ease,  takes  him  aback 
for  a  moment.  He  had  expected  the  author  of 
the  pungent  passage  in  the  Theorie  des  Passions, 
which  he  had  read  with  much  gusto  in  certain 
reviews,  to  be  a  very  different  sort  of  person. 
However,  he  proceeds  with  his  examination,  and 
after  a  brief  statement  of  the  case  existing  against 
Robert  Greslou,  proceeds  to  question  the  savant 
as  to  his  relations  with  the  young  man.  M.  Sixte 
replies  that  these  relations  were  very  slight,  and 
were  of  a  purely  philosophical  kind.  The  magis- 
trate asks  him  to  explain,  if  he  can,  certain  expres- 
sions contained  in  a  sort  of  Programme  of  Life 
found  among  the  papers  of  the  accused — for 
example,  this  :  "To  multiply  as  much  as  possible 
psychological  experiences."  In  reply  M.  Sixte 
unfolds  a  portion  of  his  Theory  of  the  Passions. 
In  physics,  experimental  knowledge  means  the 
power  of  reproducing  at  will  such  and  such  a 
phenomenon,  on  reproducing  its  conditions.  Is  a 
like  procedure  possible  with  regard  to  moral 
phenomena  ?  He  believes  that  it  is.  But  the 
field  for  experimentation  is  too  limited. 

"  Suppose  (he  goes  on,  by  way  of  illustration)  the  exact 
conditions   of   the   genesis   of   any   particular   passion   were 


300  rA3IE  MODERN E  [ch. 

accurately  known.  Well,  if  I  wished  to  produce,  at  will, 
such  a  passion,  in  any  particular  subject,  I  should  at  once 
encounter  insuperable  difficulties  from  the  existing  legal  and 
moral  codes.  Perhaps  the  time  will  come  when  these  experi- 
ments wall  be  possible.  It  is  on  children  that  we  could  best 
operate  :  but  how  difficult  it  is  to  make  people  understand 
what  gain  would  accrue  to  science  if  we  could  impart 
systematically  to  children  certain  defects  or  certain  vices." 

M.  Valette  is  taken  aback  by  the  calmness  with 
which  the  philosopher  expresses  this  opinion.  He 
explains  that  he  speaks  as  a  psychologist.  The 
magistrate  replies  that  such  materialistic  doctrines 
have  doubtless  had  much  to  do  with  the  destruction 
of  all  moral  sense  in  the  accused.  M.  Sixte  rejoins 
— not  very  conclusively  perhaps — that  he  cannot 
be  called  a  materialist,  as  he  does  not  pretend  to 
know  what  matter  is.  He  adds,  in  a  tone  of  deep 
conviction : 

"  It  is  absurd  to  hold  a  philosophical  doctrine  responsible 
for  the  interpretations  put  upon  it  by  a  badly  balanced 
brain  ;  3^ou  might  as  well  blame  the  chemist  who  invented 
dynamite  for  the  crimes  perpetrated  by  means  of  that 
substance." 

In  the  afternoon  Robert  Greslou's  mother  comes 
to  see  the  savant.  She  speaks  of  her  boy's  innocent 
childhood  and  pious  youth,  and  of  the  change 
wrought  in  him  by  the  study  of  M.  Sixte's  books. 
**  You  have  taken  away  his  faith,"  the  poor  woman 
sobs.  "  Can  it  be  that  you  have  made  him  an 
assassin  ?  No,  it  cannot  be  that.  But  he  is  your 
pupil.  You  are  his  master.  He  has  a  claim  upon 
your  help."     It  was  the  second  time  in  that  day 


VII]    THE  PUPIL  AND  THE  MASTER    301 

that  this  altogether  new  view  of  his  responsibiUties 
as  a  teacher  rose  before  M.  Sixte.  Then  Madame 
Greslou  gives  him  a  packet  of  papers,  written  by 
her  son  in  prison,  which  she  has  promised  to  convey 
to  the  philosopher.  On  opening  it  M.  Sixte  finds 
a  document  with  the  title  "  Memoire  sur  moi- 
meme,"  followed  by  these  words  :  **  I  beg  my  dear 
master,  M.  Adrien  Sixte,  to  consider  himself 
pledged  to  keep  to  himself  these  pages  ;  or  else  to 
burn  them,  unread."  M.  Sixte,  after  some  hesita- 
tion, applies  himself  to  the  perusal  of  the 
manuscript. 

The  writer  begins  by  an  apology  for  placing 
this  account  of  himself  before  his  Master.  His 
excuse  is  that  between  him  and  the  philosopher 
there  exists  a  tie  which  the  world  would  not 
understand,  but  which  is  as  close  as  it  is  adaman- 
tine. 

"  I  have  lived  with  your  thoughts ;  and  that  so  passionately, 
so  completely,  during  this  most  decisive  epoch  of  my  existence  ! 
And  now  in  the  distress  of  my  intellectual  agony,  I  turn  to 
you  as  the  one  being  from  whom  I  can  expect,  hope,  implore, 
any  help." 

Not  help  to  save  him  from  the  scaffold — no — 
but  some  word  of  sympathy,  of  confirmation,  of 
consolation.  He  has  not  killed  Mile  de  Jussat, 
but  he  has  been  very  nearly  concerned  in  the  young 
lady's  tragic  end.  And  now  remorse  weighs  upon 
him.  Yes,  remorse,  although  the  doctrines  which 
he  has  learnt  from  M.  Sixte — doctrines  grown  into 
convictions  now  forming  the  veiy  essence  of  his 


302  L'AME  MODERNE  [ch. 

intellectual  being — assure  him  that  remorse  is  the 
most  foolish  of  human  illusions.  Charlotte  de 
Jussat  had  interested  him  by  her  grace  and  sweet- 
ness. 

"  Comme  elle  etait  jolie  dans  sa  robe  de  drap  clair,  et  fine, 
et  presque  ideale  avec  sa  taille  mince,  son  corsage  frele,  son 
visage  un  pen  long  qu'eclairaient  ses  yeux  d'un  gris  pensif ! 
Elle  ressemblait  k  une  Madone  de  Memling,  fervente,  gracile 
et  douloureuse." 

She  was  a  creature  of  almost  morbid  sensibility, 
which  manifested  itself  sometimes  by  a  slightly 
tremulous  movement  of  the  hands  and  the  lips — - 
those  lovely  lips  where  dwelt  a  goodness  almost 
divine.  He  thought  it  would  be  an  experiment 
rich  in  psychological  interest  to  win  her  affections 
and  to  practise  upon  them.  Did  an  inner  voice 
ask  him,  Had  he  a  right  to  treat  the  young  girl  as 
a  mere  subject  of  experiment  ?  He  replied.  Yes, 
assuredly.  Is  it  not  irrefragable  truth  that  might 
is  the  only  limit  of  right  ?  Has  not  M.  Sixte 
written,  irrefutably,  concerning  "  the  duel  of  the 
sexes  in  love  "  ?  Is  it  not  the  law  of  the  world 
that  all  existence  is  a  conquest  of  the  weak  by  the 
strong  ?  the  inevitable  law,  ruling  in  the  moral  as 
in  the  physical  order  ?  Are  there  not  souls  of 
prey  as  there  are  beasts  of  prey  ?  Yes,  there  are, 
and  his  is  one  of  them.  And  so  he  resolved  to 
attempt  her  seduction. 

"  Mais,  Gui,  c'est  bicn  ce  que  j'ai  voulu — et  je  ne  pouvais 
pas  nc  pas  Ic  vouloir — de  s6duire  cct  enfant,  sans  1 'aimer,  par 
pure  curiositc  dc  psychologue.     La  seulc  idee  de  diriger,  ^ 


VII]     THE  VIVISECTION  OF  A   SOUL     303 

mon  gre,  les  rouages  subtils  d'un  cerveau  de  femme,  toute  cette 
horlogerie  intellectuelle  et  sentimentale  si  compliquee  et  si 
tenue,  me  faisait  me  comparer  a  Claude  Bernard,  a  Pasteur, 
^  leurs  eleves.  Ces  savants  vivisectent  des  animaux.  N'allais- 
je  pas,  moi,  vivisecter  longuement  una  ame  ?  " 

I  must  leave  those  of  my  readers  who  will,  to 
follow  this  history  of  the  prolonged  vivisection  of 
a  soul,  told  with  rare  power  of  morbid  analysis  in 
M.  Bourget's  admirably  written  pages.  I  hasten 
on  to  the  denouement.  Robert  Greslou  succeeds 
too  well  in  winning  the  affections  of  the  young  girl, 
who  meanwhile  is  betrothed  by  her  parents  to  a 
man  of  her  own  station,  an  eligible  parti.  She  falls 
ill,  and  goes  away  for  a  time.  When  she  returns 
to  the  chateau,  Greslou  finds  that  he  is  really 
enamoured  of  her  :  **  all  lies  and  subtleties  melted 
in  the  flame  of  passion,  like  lead  in  a  brazier." 
He  is  a  prey  to  what  he  has  learned  to  consider 
"  the  malady  of  love,"  and  the  instinct  of  destruc- 
tion, so  nearly  allied,  as  M.  Sixte  has  shown,  to 
the  sexual  instinct,  awakens  in  him. 

"  Je  me  rappelle,"  he  writes,  "  des  sensations  tourbillon- 
nantes,  quelque  chose  de  brulant,  de  frenetique,  d'intolerable, 
una  terrassante  nevralgie  de  tout  mon  etre  intime,  une  lancina- 
tion  continue,  et — grandissant,  grandissant,  grandissant 
toujours,  le  reve  d'en  finir,  un  pro  jet  de  suicide  :  cette  idee 
de  la  mort  sortie  des  profondeurs  intimes  de  ma  personne,  cet 
obscur  appetit  du  tombeau  dont  je  me  sentis  possede,  comma 
d'una  soif  et  d'une  faim  physiques." 

He  procures  from  the  village  chemist  a  bottle 
of  strychnine.  He  writes  a  last  note  to  Charlotte 
de  Jussat,  to  tell  her  that  at  midnight  he  will  drink 


304  VA3IE  MODERNE  [ch. 

the  poison.  A  little  before  the  hour  strikes  she 
enters  his  room.  She  entreats  him  to  live.  No, 
the}^  will  die  together.  He  swears  it.  And  she 
abandons  herself  to  his  passion.  But  when  the 
moment  for  their  suicide  comes,  his  volition  fails 
him.  He  will  not  give  her  the  poison.  She  begs 
for  it  in  vain,  and  leaves  the  room  exclaiming, 
"  Mais  m'avoir  attiree  dans  ce  piege  ainsi  !  .  .  . 
Lache  !  lache  !  lache  !  "  A  day  or  two  afterwards 
Charlotte  de  Jussat  finds  means  to  read  in  his 
journal  the  account  of  how  he  has  practised  upon 
her,  and  to  possess  herself  of  some  of  the  strychnine. 
She  writes  to  her  brother  Andre,  who  is  with  his 
regiment,  an  account  of  what  has  occurred.  Then 
she  takes  the  poison  and  dies.  Greslou  is  arrested, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  on  suspicion  of  her  murder. 
At  his  trial  Andre  de  Jussat  appears,  and  tells  the 
true  tale  of  his  sister's  death.  Greslou  is  acquitted 
and  places  himself  at  Count  Andre's  disposal  for 
such  satisfaction  as  may  be  sought  from  him. 
"  No,"  replies  the  Count ;  ''  on  ne  se  bat  pas  avec 
les  hommes  comme  vous,  on  les  execute  "  ;  and 
drawing  a  revolver  he  shoots  the  wretched  man 
dead. 

And  now  let  us  turn  to  the  philosopher  poring 
over  his  disciple's  manuscript.  As  he  advances 
in  it  something  of  his  inmost  self  seems  to  him 
soiled,  corrupted,  gangrened  ;  so  much  of  himself 
did  he  hnd  in  the  young  man :  but  a  self  united — 
by  what  mystery  ? — to  the  sentiments  which  he 
most   detested   in   the   world,   to   actions  utterly 


VII]  M,  SIXTE'S  REFLECTIONS         305 

remote  from  the  pure  and  passionless  tcnour  of 
his  blameless  life.  And  here  let  me  quote  an  elo- 
quent page  of  M.  Bourget,  to  which  no  translation 
would  do  justice  : — 

"  Que  de  fois,  pendant  cette  fin  de  fevrier  et  dans  les 
premiers  jours  de  mars,  il  commen^a  pour  Robert  Greslou  des 
lettres  qu'il  se  sentait  incapable  d'achever  !     Qu'avait-il  k 
dire  en  effet  h  ce  miserable  enfant  ?     Qu'il  faut  accepter 
I'inevitable  dans  le  monde  interieur  comme  dans  le  monde 
exterieur,  accepter  son  ame  comme  on  accepte  son  corps  ? 
Oui,  c'etait  la  le  resume  de  toute  sa  philosophic.     Mais  cet 
inevitable,  c'etait  ici  la  plus  hideuse  corruption  dans  le  passe 
et  dans  le  present.     Conseiller  k  cet  homme  de  s'accepter  lui- 
meme,  avec    toutes  les  sceleratesses  d'une  nature  pareille, 
c'etait  se  faire  le  complice  de  cette  sceleratesse.     Le  blamer  ? 
Au  nom  de  quel  principe  I'eut-il  fait,  apres  avoir  professe  que 
la  vertu  et  le  vice  sont  des  additions,  le  bien  et  le  mal,  des 
etiquettes  sociales  sans  valeur,  enfin  que  tout  est  necessaire 
dans  chaque  detail  de  notre  etre,  comme  dans  I'ensemble  de 
I'univers  ?     Quel  conseil  lui  donner  davantage  pour  I'avenir  ? 
Par  quelles  paroles  empecher  que  ce  cerveau  de  vingt-deux 
ans  f  ut  ravage  d'orgueil  et  de  sensualite,  de  curiosites  malsaines 
et  de  depravants  paradoxes  ?     Demontrerait-on  a  une  vipere,  si 
elle  comprenait  un  raisonnement,  qu'elle  ne  doit  pas  secreter 
son    venin  ?     '  Pourquoi    suis-je  une    vipere  ?  .  .  .  '  repon- 
drait-elle.     Cherchant  a  preciser  sa  pensee  par  d'autres  images 
empruntees  k  ses  propres  souvenirs,  Adrien  Sixte  comparait  le 
mecanisme  mental,  demonte  devant  lui  par  Robert  Greslou, 
aux  montres  dont  il  regardait,  tout  petit,  aller  et  venir  les 
rouages  sur  I'etabli  paternel.    Un  ressort  marche,  un  mouve- 
ment  suit,  puis  un  autre,  un  autre  encore.     Les  aiguilles 
bougent.     Qui  enleverait,  qui  toucherait  seulement  une  piece, 
arreterait  toute  la  montre.     Changer  quoi  que  ce  fut  dans  une 
ame,  ce  serait  arreter  la  vie.     Ah  !     Si  le  mecanisme  pouvait 
de  lui-meme  modifier  ses  rouages  et  leur  marche  !     Si  I'horloger 
reprenait  la  montre  pour  en  refaire  les  pieces  !     II  y  a  des 

X 


306  rlME  MODERNE  [ch. 

creatures  qui  reviennent  du  mal  au  bien,  qui  tombent  et  se 
relevent,  qui  dechoient  et  se  reconstituent  dans  leur  moralite. 
Oui,  mais  il  y  faut  Tillusion  du  repentir  qui  suppose  rillusion 
de  la  liberte  et  celle  d'un  juge,  d'un  pere  celeste.  Pouvait-il, 
lui,  Adrien  Sixte,  ecrire  au  jeune  homme  :  '  Repentez-vous,* 
quand,  sous  sa  plume  de  negateur  systematique,  ce  mot 
signifiait :  '  Cessez  de  croire  a  ce  que  je  vous  ai  demontri^ 
comme  vrai  ?  '  et  pourtant  c'est  affreux  de  voir  une  ame 
mourir  sans  rien  essayer  pour  elle.  Arrive  a  ce  point  de  sa 
meditation,  le  penseur  se  sentait  accule  a  I'insoluble  probleme, 
a  cet  inexplique  de  la  vie  de  I'ame,  aussi  desesperant  pour  un 
psychologue  que  I'inexplique  de  la  vie  du  corps  pour  un 
physiologiste.  L'auteur  du  livre  sur  Dieu,  et  qui  avait  ecrit 
cette  phrase  :  '  II  n'y  a  pas  de  mystere,  il  n'y  a  que  des  ignor- 
ances .  .  .'  se  refusait  a  cette  contemplation  de  I'au-dela  qui, 
montrant  un  abime  derri^re  toute  r^alite,  amene  la  Science  a 
s'incliner  devant  I'enigme  et  a  dire  un  '  Je  ne  sais  pas,  je  ne 
saurai  jamais,'  qui  permet  a  la  Religion  d'intervenir.  II 
sentait  son  incapacite  b.  rien  faire  pour  cette  ame  en  detresse,  et 
qu'elle  avait  besoin  d'un  secours  qui  fut,  pour  tout  dire,  sur- 
naturel.  Mais  de  prononcer  seulement  une  pareille  formule 
lui  semblait,  d'apres  ses  idees,  aussi  fou  que  de  mentionner  la 
quadrature  du  cercle  ou  d'attribuer  trois  angles  droits  a  un 
triangle." 

So  much  must  suffice  to  convey  some  account 
of  this  singularly  arresting  work.  That  its  pages 
are  wholly  free  from  stains,  I  by  no  means  assert. 
And  I  regret  the  more  that  I  am  unable  to  make 
the  assertion,  because  the  crudities  of  description 
which  here  and  there  occur,  serve  neither  to  point 
the  moral  nor  to  adorn  the  tale.  I  would  add  that, 
in  my  judgment,  they  proceed  not  from  excess  of 
imagination,  but  from  defect  of  it.  It  is  the  very 
office  of  the  imaginative  faculty  to  suggest.     French 


VII]  PHILOSOPHIC  NIHILISM  307 

novelists — it  is  a  fault  common  to  well  nigh  all  of 
them — seem  to  suppose  that  no  one  will  under- 
stand the  thing  to  be  impressed,  unless  he  is  taken 
by  the  throat,  so  to  speak,  and  made  to  look  at  it 
by  force.  But  the  general  scope  and  aim  of  this 
book  of  M.  Bourget's  appear  to  me  worthy  of  no 
less  praise  than  its  workmanship.  Brunetiere  has 
happily  said  that,  "it  is  not  only  an  admirable 
bit  of  literature,  but  a  good  action.''  The  author 
speaks  of  it,  we  saw  in  the  dedicatory  preface, 
as  a  study  of  one  of  the  responsibilities  of  men  of 
letters.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  philosophic 
nihilism  is  the  ultimate  issue  of  the  intellectual 
movement  initiated  by  Rousseau  which  soon  rid 
itself  of  the  turbid  inconsequent  theism  where- 
with he  had  disguised  it.  This  is  the  doctrine  held, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  by  the  leaders  of  the 
anti-christian  campaign  calling  itself  la  laicite, 
now  triumphant  in  France.  M.  Bourget  has  aimed 
at  exhibiting  how  this  doctrine  works  in  practice. 
It  may  be  said  that  even  if  M.  Bourget's  exhibition 
is  correct,  it  supplies  no  argument  against  the  truth 
of  the  doctrine  :  that  consequences  are  the  scare- 
crows of  fools.  To  which  I  reply  that  only  a  fool 
will  lose  sight  of  consequences,  and  that  a  doctrine 
like  a  tree,  may  be  judged  by  its  fruits.  A  reducUo 
ad  absurdum  is  a  good  logical  process.  Why  ? 
Because  man  consists  in  reason.  And  so  does  the 
world  external  to  the  human  mind.  There  are 
mysteries  everywhere,  and  locked  doors.  But  that 
is  not  contradiction  or  unreason.     The  more  closely 


308  VAME  MODERNE  [ch.  vii] 

the  material  universe  is  examined,  the  more  clearly 
is  it  seen  to  be  everywhere  intelligible.  It  is 
cosmos,  not  chaos.  Reason  everywhere,  in  the 
microcosm  of  the  leaf,  and  in  the  macrocosm  of 
the  fixed  stars,  and  in  the  mind  of  man— such  is 
the  most  certain  of  all  certitudes.  And  a  philo- 
sophy which  makes  unreason  the  last  word  is  self- 
condemned. 


INDEX 

Acton,  Lord,  on  the  French  Revolution,  57 
on  the  Papacy,  64 
on  the  Declaration  of  Rights,  68 
on  Chateaubriand's  literary  style,  20G 
on  the  overthrow  of  the  Cadiz  constitution,  242 
Abelard,  on  fruitful  doubt,  267 
Allart,  Hortense,  some  account  of,  249-257 
AUart,  Marcus,  an  exploit  of,  257 
L'Ame  Moderne,  260-308 

Aquinas,  St.  Thomas,  on  resistance  to  oppression,  9-10 

on  conscience,  73 
on  just  and  unjust  laws,  9,  73 
Aristotle,  calls  man  ^wov  ttoXitikoV,  19 
on  tyranny,  26 

on  equality  in  political  power,  28 
Armand  (de  le  Meuse),  demands  mental  equality,  29 
Augustine,  on  man's  freedom,  15 

on  obedience  to  rulers,  19 
Aulard,  M.,  on  the  Revolutionary  Calendar  and  the  decadi,  86 

on  the  worship  of  Reason,  gi 
d'Aurevilly,  M.  Barbey,  on  an  incident  in  Chateaubriand's  later 

life,  257 
d'Aviau,  Mgr.,  an  ordination  by,  in  1797,  115 

Babeuf,  the  continuator  of  Rousseau,  29 
on  the  Social  Contract,  30 
on  mere  equality  before  the  law,  3 1 

Bailly,  Mayor,  on  conscience  and  human  law,  61 

Balzac,  his  account  of  the  French  Revolution,  i 

on  the  effect  upon  France  of  the  Revolution  of  1789. .  i 
on  Christianity  as  the  greatest  element  of  social  order,  72 
his  Un  Episode  sous  la  Terreur  referred  to,  106 
on  Fouche,  132 

309 


310  INDEX 

Balzac  on  Talleyrand,  191 

comparison  between  him  and  Bourget,  261 
on  great  works  of  imagination,  291 
Bardoux,  his  La  Comtesse  de  Beaumont  quoted  or  referred  to, 

214,  216,  217,  218 
Barrere,  on  private  property,  29 

on  the  task  of  the  National  Assembly,  59 
Bastille,  true  view  of  the  capture  of,  loi 
Beaumont,  Pauline  de,  some  account  of,  213-224 
Beaunier,  his  Trots  Amies  de  Chateaubriand,  referred  to,  218,  229, 

239,  249,  258 
Beauregard,  le  Pere,  predicts  the  profanation  of  Notre  Dame,  90 
Bir6,  on  the  Abbe  Bonnevie,  223 

his  Le  Clerge  de  France  pendant  la  Revolution,  quoted  or 
referred  to,  67,  80,  84,  85,  86,  87,  106,  108 
Blancmaison,  M.  de,  on  Talleyrand's  death,  192 
Blennerhassett,  Lady,  her  Talleyrand  eine  Studie,  referred  to  or 

quoted,  176,  185,  189 
Boigne,  Madame  de,  her  Memoires  quoted,  184,  186,  193 
Bonnevie,  I'Abbe,  his  friendship  with  M.  and  Madame  de  Chateau- 
briand, 223 
Bordeaux,  M.  Henry,  on  Bourget,  260 

his   remarks   on    Un   Crime   d' Amour  and 
Cnielle  Enigme,  269 
Bourget,  M.  Paul,  all  the  tendencies  of  our  age  reflected  in  him,  260 
the  greatest  French  novelist  since  Balzac,  261 
his  career,  262-267 
step   by   step   reaches   a   distinctly   Christian 

conclusion,  266 
stains  on  his  writings,  267-271 
a  brief  account  of  Le  Fantome,  272-290 
didactic  value  of  the  book,  290-293 
a  brief  accovmt  of  Le  Disciple,  294-306 
Brunetiere's  judgment  of  the  book,  307 
designed  as  a  study  of  one  of  the  responsi- 
bilities of  men  of  letters  :    as  an  exhibition 
how  philosophic  niliilism,  rampant  in  France, 
works  in  practice,  294,  307 
Bricnne,  Madame  de,  Talleyrand's  relations  with,  161,  169 
llrui'.etidre,  his  estimate  of  Le  Disciple,  307 
Burke,  on  deceitful  visions  of  equality,  27 

on  the  procedure  of  the  National  Assembly,  59 


INDEX  311 

Calendar,  the  Revolutionary,  86 
Cambaceres,  on  the  murder  of  Louis  XVI.,  78 
Carlyle,   his   account  of   the   condition   of  priests   sentenced   to 
deportation,  80 
on  tlie  Fete  de  I'Etre  Supreme,  93 
Castellane,  Mile  Gabrielle  de,  Fouche's  second  wife,  150 
Chalier,  on  the  royalty  of  the  people,  14 

the  cult  of,  originated  by  Fouche,  127 
Chamfort,  on  Jacobin  Fraternity,  33 
Chateaubriand,  his  mission,  164 

sources  for  a  knowledge  of  him,  195-197 

on  Talleyrand's  death,  192 

his  faults,  203,  209 

his  high  qualities,  205,  228,  249 

his  place  in  literature,  206,  220 

his  early  life,  206,  208 

his  visit  to  America,  208 

his  fictions,  208,  211 

his  marriage,  211 

joins  Conde's  array  and  is  invalided,  211 

his  visit  to  England,  211 

his  Essai  sur  les  Revolutions,  212 

his  Genie  dii  Chrisiiaitisme,  213 

his  relations  with  Pauline  de  Beaumont,  213-225 

his  friendship  with  Joubert,  216 

immense  success  of  the  Genie,  219-222 

accepts   the   post   of   Secretary   of   Legation   at 
Rome,  222 

his  desolation  on  Pauline  de  Beaumont's  death, 
225 

appointed  French  Minister  to  the  republic  of  the 
Valais,  226 

resigns    the    appointment    on    account    of    the 
murder  of  the  Due  d'Enghien,  226 

his  literary  career,  229 

his  Memoires  d'Oiitre  Tomhe,  230-233 

during  the  Restoration  and  the  Hundred  Days,  233 

is  nominated  to  the  peerage  and   made  a  Coun- 
cillor of  State  by  Louis  XVIIL,  236 

his  political  life,  236-249 

his  relations  with  Madame  Recamier,  238 

refuses  to  take  the  oath  to  Louis  Philippe,  248 


312  ,  INDEX 

Cliateaubriand,  his  relations  with  Hortense  AUart,  249-255 
his  friendship  with  Beranger,  253-254 
his  dcatli,  255 

posthumous  scandal  concerning,  255-259 
Chaumette,  on  property,  29 

invents  the  worship  of  Reason,  87 
praise  of,  by  Lord  Morley  of  Blackburn,  88 
predicts  the  guillotining  of  all  who  believe  in  God,  90 
guillotined,  90 

Fou die's  admiring  colleague  at  Nevers,  125 
Chenier,  his  Hymn  to  the  Supreme  Being,  93 
Church,  the  Catholic,  in  France  before  the  Revolution,  48-57 
the  Constitutional,  a  department  of  the  State,  64 
bore  within  it  the  seeds  of  dissolution,  75 
Talleyrand  the  founder  of,  165,  170,  175 
Clootz,  Anacharis,  deifies  "  the  people,"  37 
Coleridge,  S.  T.,  on  the  rightful  lawgiver,  9 
Commines,  on  the  error  of  Charles  VII.  in  usurping  the  power  of 

arbitrary  taxation,  45 
Conscience,  Cardinal  Newman  on,  60 
Mayor  Bailly's  view  of,  61 
Aquinas's  account  of,  73 
Constant,  Benjamin,  his  account  of  Madame  R(Scamier,  238 
Courland,  the  Duchess  of,  and  Talleyrand,  185 
Crusade,  the  Antichristian,  100-116 


Dalberg,  Duke,  on  Talleyrand,  172 
Dalling,  Lord,  on  Talleyrand's  death,  192 

his  relations  with  Hortense  Allart,  254 
Danton,  reveals  the  secret  of  the  Jacobins,  154 

hires  Talleyrand  to  draw  up  an  apology  for  the  crimes  of 
the  Provisional  Government,  172 
David,  the  painter,  and  the  Feast  of  the  Supreme  Being,  92 
Decadi,  the,  persecution  to  impose  it,  8G 

abolished,  87 
Declaration  of  the  Rights  of  the  Man  and  the  Citizen,  an  embodi- 
ment of  the  principles  of  1 789,  2 
text  of,  3-5 
fruits  of,  6-7 
examination  of,  7-31 
Burke  on,  37 


INDEX  313 

Despatys,  Baron,  his  account  of  Madame  Fouche,  121 
Dino,  the  Duchesse  de,  and  Talleyrand,  183-192 
Dumont,  on  the  discussions  in  the  National  Assembly,  3 
Dupanloup,  Bishop,  on  Talleyrand's  death,  193 
Dupont^s,  Chemin,  his  manual  referred  to,  96 
Duras,  la  Duchesse  de,  on  Madame  Chateaubriand,  239 

Edict  of  Nantes,  the,  an  infamous  precedent,  65 
Edmund  of  Canterbury,  St.,  on  the  rich  and  the  poor,  35 
Ehot,  George,  on  the  sort  of  men  who  get  the  power  in  Parlia- 
mentary elections,  25 
Emery,  the  Abbe,  on  the  reconciliation  of  Constitutional  priests  to 

the  Church,  68 
Equality  in  rights,  absurdity  of  the  doctrine,  17 

issues  in  Nihilism,  31 
Exmouth,  Lord,  his  capture  of  the  Vaillante,  80 

Faguet,  on  liberty  in  France,  54 

Fauchet,  the  Abbe,  invents  the  shibboleth  of  fraternity,  32 

deifies  man,  37 
Feletz,  the  Abbe,  his  experience  of  the  hulks,  112 
Fiction,  element  of,  in  Chateaubriand,  208-210 

serviceable,  21 

pernicious,  23 
Flahaut,  Madame  de,  some  account  of,  167,  175 
Forbonnais,  on  the  ancient  fiscal  system  of  France,  45 
Fouche,  may  be  regarded  as  la  Revolution  faite  homme,  117 

born  in  1759. .118 

his  youth  and  early  manhood,  1 19-122 

his  first  marriage,  120 

elected  to  the  National  Convention,  122 

votes  for  the  murder  of  the  King,  123 

en  mission,  123-129 

his  strife  with  Robespierre,  130 

his  triumph  when  Robespierre  fell  on  the  9th  of  Ther- 
midor,  131 

casts  the  blame  for  his  savageries  on  others,  134 

the  beginning  of  his  immense  fortune,  136 

appointed   by   the   Directory   Minister   of   the   General 
Police  of  the  Republic,  137 

introduced  to  Napoleon,  and  becomes  one  of  the  con- 
spiracy issuing  in  the  coup  d'etat  of  Brumaire,  141 


314  INDEX 

Fouche,  his  relations  with  Napoleon  during  the  Consulate  and 
Empire,  142-144 

Minister  of  Police  during  the  Hundred  Days,  145 

after  Waterloo  negotiates  the  capitulation  which  effects 
the  restoration  of  Louis  XVIII.,  146 

his  second  marriage,  150 

his  fall,  153 

his  death,  153 

his  character,  154 
Fouche.  Madame,  some  account  of,  121 
Francis  of  Assisi,  St.,  his  view  of  property,  35 
Fraternity,  Jacobin,  32-34 

Christian,  35-36 
Free  Thought,  so  called,  what  it  really  is,  270 
Froude,  J.  A.,  his  vindication  of  posthumous  scandal,  195 

Gambetta,  on  liberty,  27 

Giraud,  M.,  his  judgment  of  Sainte-Beuve's  work  on  Chateau- 
briand, 205 
on  the  Memoires  d'Outre  Tomhe,  230 
Girondins,  the  most  zealous  fautors  of  laws  against  the  clergy, 

76-78 
Gladstone,  the  late  Mr,,  his  account  of  his  escape  from  incon- 
venience in  the  race  of  life,  127 
Grand,  Madame,  some  account  of,  176-185 

her  death,  189 
Gregoire,  Bishop,  on  the  closing  of  the  Churches  in  France  in 
1 794.. 68 
on  decadi  fury,  86 

his  account  of  a  prophetic  sermon  in  Notre  Dame,  90 
Gribble,  Mr.,  his  Chateaubriand  and  his  Court  of  Women,  quoted 
or  referred  to,  208,  212,  227,  229,  249,  256 

Hauy,  said  to  be  the  inventor  of  Theophilanthropy,  95 
Hemmant,  Abel,  his  Daniel  quoted,  201 

Herbois,  Collot  d',  proposes  the  abolition  of  royalty  in  France,  78 
his  atrocities,  81,  126 

IsNARD,  on  the  dignity  of  "  the  people,"  13 

Jacobin,  a  typical,  11 7-1 55 
Janscnists,  persecution  of,  53-55 


INDEX  315 

Jansenists,  support  the  Civil  Constitution  of  the  Clergy,  63 

Jauffret,  Bishop,  his  Memoires  referred  to,  98,  106 

Joubert,  his  friendship  vvitli  Madame  de  Beaumont,  215,  217,  224 

with  Chateaubriand,  213,  224 

on  the  Genie  du  Christianisme,  221 

Kant,  on  man  in  society,  21 

on  an  innate  evil  principle,  72 
on  art.  270 

Laboulaye,  on  property,  20 

Lacharriere,  J.  Ledrest  de,  his  Les  Cahiers  de  Madame  de  Chateau- 
briand quoted,  197,  231 

Lacombe,  M.  de,  his   Talleyrand,  Eveque  d'Autiin  and  La   Vie 
Privee  de  Talleyrand  referred  to,  156-193,  passim 

Laloy,  his  performances  as  President  of  the  National  Convention, 
89 

Larevelliere  Lepaux,  a  champion  of  Theophilanthropy,  95 

Law,  the  moral,  what  it  is,  73,  293 

Lawgiver,  the  rightful,  9 

Lecoc,  Bishop,  a  doubtful  statement  of,  98 

Lemaitre,  on  Bourget's  Le  Disciple,  267 

Le  Play,  on  the  Declaration  of  Rights,  23 

Liberty,  true  conception  of,  9 

Locke,  on  the  difference  in  degrees  in  men's  understandings,  17 
on  the  average  intelligence  of  mankind,  25 

Louis  XVI.,  his  murder,  78 

effect  of  that  crime  in  England,  173 

Louis  XVIII. ,  Chateaubriand  on,  235 

offended  by  a  pamphlet  of  Chateaubriand's,  238 
dismisses  Chateaubriand  from  office,  243 

Louis  Philippe,  King,  Chateaubriand's  contempt  for,  253 

Lubricity,  tradition  of,  in  French  fiction,  269 

Lyons,  the  city  of,  decree  of  the  Convention  concerning,  126 

Mackintosh,  Sir  James,  on  Jansenism  and  the  French  Revo- 
lution, 63 
MadeHn,  M.   Louis,  his  Life  of  Fouche,  quoted  or  referred   to, 

1 18-153,  passim 
Maine,  Sir  Henry,  on  legal  fictions,  21 
Mallock,  on  the  popular  conception  of  morality,  199 
Manning,  Cardinal,  the  poetical  element  in  his  nature,  209 


316  INDEX 

Marat,  his  view  of  the  Declaration  of  Rights,  13 
his  plea  for  the  holy  law  of  nature,  29 
his  apotheosis,  91 
Michelet,  on  the  Revolutionary  Calendar,  86 

mendacious  character  of  his  History,  106 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  on  the  brutality  of  men,  26 
Mirabeau,  the  old  Marquis  of,  on  men  and  rabbits,  33 
Momoro,  his  concubine  as  Goddess  of  Reason,  88 

guillotined,  91 
Morley,  of  Blackburn,  Lord,  his  view  of  the  French  Revolution,  69 

his  account  of  the  Christian  view  of 

the  law  of  virtue,  73 
his  praise  of  Chaumette,  88 
Morris,  Gouverneur,  his  diary  quoted,  166,  167,  168 

Napoleon  I.  brings  the  spiritualty  of  France  into  abject  subjec- 
tion, 56 
discerns  in  1798  that  France  is  returning  to  the 

Catholic  religion,  98 
on  I'homme  sans  Dieu,  99 
makes  the  acquaintance  of  Fouche,  141 
his  relations  with  Fouche,  142-146 
his    action   in    regard    to   Talleyrand's    marriage, 

179-182 
and  Chateaubriand,  227,  229,  233 
Newman,  Cardinal,  on  conscience,  60 

on  believing  without  obeying,  198 
his  definition  of  a  gentleman,  142 
Nihilism,  philosophic,  the  ultimate  issue  of  the  philosophic  move- 
ment initiated  by  Rousseau,  307 
Nisard,  M.  Desire,  his  account  of  the  regime  of  the  hulks,  113 

Paladin  of  the  Restoration,  A,  194-259 

Pichot,  M.,  on  Talleyrand,  160 

Pierre,  Victoire,  his  works.  La  Terreiir  sons  le  Direcioire  and  /<? 

Fniciidor,  referred  to,  83 
Pisani,  the  Ahh6,  his  L'Eglise  de  Paris  et  la  Revoluiion  referred 

to.  75 
Pius  VI.,  Pope,  his  brief  Quod  Aliquantulum,  66 
Pius  VII.,  Pope,  and  Talleyrand's  secularization,  181 
Plato,  on  the  wild  beast  within  us,  72,  292 
Poetry  and  Prose,  the  antithesis  between,  203 


INDEX  317 

Pontmartin,  M.  Armand  de,  on  an  incident  in  Chateaubriand's 

later  life,  257 
Pressense,  M,  de,  his  L'Eglisc  Catholic  et  la  Revolution,  quoted, 

59,  63,  64,  65,  66,  91 
Principles  of  1789,  the,  examined,  1-36 
Proudhon,  his  Popular  Revolutionary  Catechism,  quoted,  98 
Purity,  the  virtue  of,  little  recognized  in  the  antique  world,  201 
Christian  view  of,  202 

Reason,  the  worship  of,  88 

the  ancient  conception  of,  and  the  lihre  petisenr's,  con- 
trasted, 292 
Recamier,  Madame  and  Chateaubriand,  218-230 
Renan,  on  Talleyrand's  retractation,  190 

Revolution,  the,  of  1789,  brought  into  existence  a  New  France,  i 

dogmas  of,  embodied  in  the  Declaration 

of  Rights,  2 
the  immediate  result  of  the  Declaration 
a  universal  and  permanent  jacquerie,  7 
the  good  in  the  Declaration  neutralized 
by  the  demonstrably  false  principles 
underlying  it,  10 
those  principles  derived  from  Rousseau's 
writings,  and,  in  particular,  from  his 
Contrat  Social,  11,  59 
an  examination  of  them,  11-31 
great  central  moral  doctrine  of,  13 
doctrine  of,  regarding  civil  society,  18 
and  rehgion,  39-99,  291,  307 
what  it  primarily  was,  57 
rabidly  anti-Catholic,  67,  79-87,  100-116 
exhibited  as  a  new  gospel,  70 
Rewbel,  on  the  persecution  of  refractory  priests,  83 
Rivarol,  on  the  French  conception  of  liberty,  27 
Robespierre,    moves,    in    the    Jacobin    Club,    four    Resolutions 
affirming  the  necessity  of  limiting  private  property, 
29 
pontificates  at  the  Feast  of  the  Etre  Supreme,  36 
advocates  the  Civil  Constitution  of  the  Clergy,  63 
proposes  that  the  King  be  immediately  executed,  78 
esteemed  by  Rewbel  "  trop  doux,"  83 
likened  to  Orpheus,  92 


318  INDEX 

Kobespierre  makes  the  acquaintance  of  Fouche,  120 
coolness  between  him  and  Fouche,  122 
puts  down  the  Herbertist  faction,  128 
is  vanquished  by  Fouche,  and  falls  on  the  gth  of 
Thermidor,  132 
Rod,  M.,  his  estimate  of  Bourget's  works,  267 
Rousseau,  his  theory  of  man  and  civil  society,  11-14 
that  theory  examined,  15-31 
a  luminous  observation  of,  37 
the  National  Assembly  tries  to  translate  his  doctrines 

into  institutions,  59 
his  view  that  the  Church  should  be  part  of  the  machinery 
of  an  omnipotent  State  adopted  by  the  National 
Assembly  in  dealing  with  the  French  Church,  63 
his  Gospel  quite  incompatible  with  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 

Christ,  70 
his  Deism  the  religion  which  Robespierre  sought  to 

establish,  94 
Philosophic  Nihilism  the  ultimate  issue  of  his  doctrine, 

307 
Royer-Collard,  on  the  men  of  1793.  .155 

predicts     Talleyrand's     reconciliation     with     the 
Church,  189 


Sainte-Beuve,  his  account  of  Condorcet,  76 

his  malice  against  Chateaubriand,  205 
on  a  celebrated  letter  of  Chateaubriand's,  225 
on  Chateaubriand's  rendering  of  Gray's  Elegy,  259 
St.  Just,  on  opulence,  29 

St.  Lazar  attacked  and  plundered  by  the  Revolutionary  mob,  104 
Sand,  Georges,  her  opinion  of  Hortense  AUart,  256 
Seche,  M.,  his  Hortense  AUart  de  MSritens,  quoted,  204,  223,  251, 

252,  253,  254,  255,  257 
Sicard,  the  Abbe,  his  Les  Eveques  de  France  pendant  le  Revolution, 

quoted,  98 
Social  Contract,  Rousseau's  fictitious,  19 
Sorel.  M.  Albert,  on  the  precedents  for  the  revolutionary  laws 

against  the  clergy,  65 
Spinoza,  on  the  end  of  the  State,  21 

Stael,  Madame  de,  a  bonne  amie  of  Talleyrand,  168,  175,  176,  183 
Stendhal,  comparison  between  him  and  Balzac,  261 


INDEX  319 


Suarez,  on  resistance  to  oppression,  8 

on  Christian  morality,  200 
Sybel,  on  the  Declaration  of  Rights,  3 


Taine,  on  the  method  pursued  by  the  National  Assembly,  3 
on  the  results  of  the  Declaration  of  Rights,  6 
his  Les  Origines  de  la  France  Contemporaine,  referred  to 

or  cited,  6-60,  passim 
on  Jacobin  rhetoricians,  14 
on  the  origin  of  the  Revolution,  40 
on  the  work  of  the  Church  for  the  nascent  nationalities 

of  Europe,  41,  42 
on  the  feudal  system,  43 
on  the  detachment  of  the  upper  classes  in  France  from 

Christianity  on  the  eve  of  the  Revolution,  50 
on  the  higher  clergy  at  that  period,  51,  52 
on  the  religious  persecutions  of  the  eighteenth  century,  53 
on  the  popularization  of  the  teaching  of  Rousseau,  58 
on  the  Contrat  Social,  60 
on  the  Commissions  Militaires,  83 
Talleyrand,  his  birth  and  early  years,  157 

admitted  into  minor  orders,  159 
his  dissolute  life,  160 
ordained  priest,  160 

elected  an  Agent-General  of  the  clergy,  160 
acquires  a  great  reputation  for  ability,  i6l 
obtains  the  See  of  Autun,  162 
elected  a  deputy  to  the  National  Assembly,  164 
accepts  the  Revolution,  165 

proposes   the   confiscation   of   the   property   of   the 
spiritualty — a  measure  which  issues  in  the  Civil 
Constitution  of  the  clergy,  166 
Gouverneur  Morris's  account  of,  167 
his   relations  with  Madame  de  Flahaut  and   other 

ladies,  167 
formally  constitutes  the  new  Church  by  consecrating 

a  Bishop,  1 70 
his  contempt  for  it  and  its  prelacy,  170 
in  London,  171 

revisits  Paris  and  draws  up  an  apology  for  the  crimes 
of  the  Provisional  Government,  172 


320  INDEX 

Talleyrand  returns  to  England  and  is  obliged  to  leave  under  the 
provisions  of  the  Aliens  Act,  1 74 
in  the  United  States  of  America,  174 
is  allowed  to  return  to  France  as  the  Founder  of  the 

Constitutional  Church,  175 
becomes  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  176 
Madame   Grand   becomes   his   mistress,   and   subse- 
quently his  wife,  176 
attends  the  Congress  of  Vienna  as  Ambassador  of 

Louis  XVIII.,  183 
his  relations  with  the  Duchess  of  Courland,  185 
and,  subsequent^,  with  her  daughter  the  Duchcsse 

de  Din,o,  186 
Grand  Chamberlain  to  Louis  XVIII.,  187 
sent  as  ambassador  to  England  by  Louis  Philippe,  i88 
his  reconcihation  with  the  CathoUc  Church,  190 
estimate  of  his  career,  191 
his  death,  192 
TaUien,  his  proposal  regarding  owners  of  propert)^  29 
Theophilanthropy,  some  account  of,  96 

Toqueville,  Alexis  de,  on  the  French  clergy  before  the   Revolu- 
tion, 52,  56 

ViLLEMAiN,  his  La  Tribune  Moderne,  quoted,  241 
Vincent  of  Paul,  St.,  some  account  of  his  work,  102 

Wellington,  the  Duke  of,  his  interest  in  Fouchc,  152 


THE  END 


PRINTED  BY  WILLIAM  CLOWES  AND  SONS,    UMITBD,  LONDON   AND  OliCCLES. 


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