RIGHTS OF MAN, &c. &c.

AMONG the incivilities by which nations or individuals provoke and irritate each other, Mr. Burke's pamphlet on the French Revolution is an extraordinary inſtance. Neither the People of France, nor the National Aſſembly, were troubling themſelves about the affairs of England, or the Engliſh Parliament; and why Mr. Burke ſhould commence an unprovoked attack upon them, both in parliament and in public, is a con⯑duct that cannot be pardoned on the ſcore of manners, nor juſtified on that of policy.

There is ſcarcely an epithet of abuſe to be found in the Engliſh language, with which Mr. Burke has not loaded the French Nation and the National Aſſembly. Every thing which rancour, prejudice, ignorance, or knowledge could ſuggeſt, are poured forth in the copious fury of near four hundred pages. In the ſtrain and on the plan Mr. Burke was writing, he might have written on to as many thouſands. When the tongue or the [8] pen is let looſe in a frenzy of paſſion, it is the man, and not the ſubject, that becomes ex⯑hauſted.

Hitherto Mr. Burke has been miſtaken and diſappointed in the opinions he had formed of the affairs of France; but ſuch is the ingenuity of his hope, or the malignancy of his deſpair, that it furniſhes him with new pretences to go on. There was a time when it was impoſſible to make Mr. Burke believe there would be any revolution in France. His opinion then was, that the French had neither ſpirit to undertake it, nor fortitude to ſupport it; and now that there is one, he ſeeks an eſcape, by condemning it.

Not ſufficiently content with abuſing the Na⯑tional Aſſembly, a great part of his work is taken up with abuſing Dr. Price (one of the beſt-hearted men that lives), and the two ſocieties in England known by the name of the Revolution Society, and the Society for Conſtitutional Information.

Dr. Price had preached a ſermon on the 4th of November 1789, being the anniverſary of what is called in England, the Revolution which took place 1688. Mr. Burke, ſpeaking of this ſermon, ſays,

[9]Dr. Price does not ſay that the right to do theſe things exiſts in this or in that perſon, or in this or in that deſcription of perſons, but that it exiſts in the whole; that it is a right reſident in the nation. —Mr. Burke, on the contrary, denies that ſuch a right exiſts in the nation, either in whole or in part, or that it exiſts any where; and, what is ſtill more ſtrange and marvellous, he ſays, ‘that the people of England utterly diſclaim ſuch a right, and that they will reſiſt the practical aſſertion of it with their lives and fortunes.’ That men ſhould take up arms, and ſpend their lives and fortunes, not to maintain their rights, but to maintain they have not rights, is an entire new ſpecies of diſ⯑covery, and ſuited to the paradoxial genius of Mr. Burke.

The method which Mr. Burke takes to prove that the people of England have no ſuch rights, and that ſuch rights do not now exiſt in the nation, either in whole or in part, or any where at all, is of the ſame marvellous and monſtrous kind with what he has already ſaid; for his arguments are, that the perſons, or the generation of perſons, in whom they did exiſt, are dead, and with them the right is dead alſo. To prove this, he quotes a declaration made by parliament about a hundred years ago, to William and Mary, in theſe words: ‘The Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Com⯑mons, do, in the name of the people aforeſaid, —(meaning the people of England then living)— moſt humbly and faithfully ſubmit themſelves, their heirs and poſterities, for EVER.’ He alſo [10] quotes a clauſe of another act of parliament made in the ſame reign, the terms of which, he ſays, ‘binds us—(meaning the people of that day)— our heirs, and our poſterity, to them, their heirs and poſterity, to the end of time.’

Mr. Burke conceives his point ſufficiently eſta⯑bliſhed by producing thoſe clauſes, which he en⯑forces by ſaying that they exclude the right of the nation for ever: And not yet content with making ſuch declarations, repeated over and over again, he further ſays, ‘that if the people of England poſſeſſed ſuch a right before the Revolution, (which he acknowledges to have been the caſe, not only in England, but throughout Europe, at an early period), yet that the Engliſh nation did, at the time of the Revolution, moſt ſolemnly renounce and abdicate it, for themſelves, and for all their poſterity, for ever.’

As Mr. Burke occaſionally applies the poiſon drawn from his horrid principles, (if it is not a profanation to call them by the name of princi⯑ples), not only to the Engliſh nation, but to the French Revolution and the National Aſſembly, and charges that auguſt, illuminated and illumi⯑nating body of men with the epithet of uſurpers, I ſhall, ſans ceremonie, place another ſyſtem of principles in oppoſition to his.

The Engliſh Parliament of 1688 did a certain thing, which, for themſelves and their conſti⯑tuents, they had a right to do, and which it ap⯑peared right ſhould be done: But, in addition to this right, which they poſſeſſed by delegation, [11] they ſet up another right by aſſumption, that of bind⯑ing and controuling poſterity to the end of time. The caſe, therefore, divides itſelf into two parts; the right which they poſſeſſed by delegation, and the right which they ſet up by aſſumption. The firſt is admitted; but, with reſpect to the ſecond, I reply—

There never did, there never will, and there never can exiſt a parliament, or any deſcription of men, or any generation of men, in any coun⯑try, poſſeſſed of the right or the power of binding and controuling poſterity to the "end of time," or of commanding for ever how the world ſhall be governed, or who ſhall govern it; and there⯑fore, all ſuch clauſes, acts or declarations, by which the makers of them attempt to do what they have neither the right nor the power to do, nor the power to execute, are in themſelves null and void.—Every age and generation muſt be as free to act for itſelf, in all caſes, as the ages and generations which preceded it. The vanity and preſumption of governing beyond the grave, is the moſt ridiculous and inſolent of all tyrannies. Man has no property in man; neither has any generation a property in the generations which are to follow. The parliament or the people of 1688, or of any other period, had no more right to diſpoſe of the people of the preſent day, or to bind or to controul them in any ſhape whatever, than the parliament or the people of the preſent day have to diſpoſe of, bind or controul thoſe who are to live a hundred or a thouſand years hence. [12] Every generation is, and muſt be, competent to all the purpoſes which its occaſions require. It is the living, and not the dead, that are to be ac⯑commodated. When man ceaſes to be, his power and his wants ceaſe with him; and having no longer any participation in the concerns of this world, he has no longer any authority in direct⯑ing who ſhall be its governors, or how its govern⯑ment ſhall be organized, or how adminiſtered.

I am not contending for nor againſt any form of government, nor for nor againſt any party here or elſewhere. That which a whole nation chooſes to do, it has a right to do. Mr. Burke ſays, No. Where then does the right exiſt? I am contend⯑ing for the rights of the living, and againſt their being willed away, and controuled and contracted for, by the manuſcript aſſumed authority of the dead; and Mr. Burke is contending for the au⯑thority of the dead over the rights and freedom of the living. There was a time when kings diſpoſed of their crowns by will upon their death⯑beds, and conſigned the people, like beaſts of the field, to whatever ſucceſſor they appointed. This is now ſo exploded as ſcarcely to be remem⯑bered, and ſo monſtrous as hardly to be believed: But the parliamentary clauſes upon which Mr. Burke builds his political church, are of the ſame nature.

The laws of every country muſt be analogous to ſome common principle. In England, no parent or maſter, nor all the authority of par⯑liament, omnipotent as it has called itſelf, can [13] bind or controul the perſonal freedom even of an individual beyond the age of twenty-one years: On what ground of right, then, could the parlia⯑ment of 1688, or any other parliament, bind all poſterity for ever?

Thoſe who have quitted the world, and thoſe who are not yet arrived at it, are as remote from each other, as the utmoſt ſtretch of mortal imagi⯑nation can conceive: What poſſible obligation, then, can exiſt between them; what rule or prin⯑ciple can be laid down, that two non-entities, the one out of exiſtence, and the other not in, and who never can meet in this world, that the one ſhould controul the other to the end of time?

In England, it is ſaid that money cannot be taken out of the pockets of the people without their conſent: But who authorized, or who could authorize the parliament of 1688 to controul and take away the freedom of poſterity, and limit and confine their right of acting in certain caſes for ever, who were not in exiſtence to give or to with⯑hold their conſent?

A greater abſurdity cannot preſent itſelf to the underſtanding of man, than what Mr. Burke offers to his readers. He tells them, and he tells the world to come, that a certain body of men, who exiſted a hundred years ago, made a law; and that there does not now exiſt in the nation, nor ever will, nor ever can, a power to alter it. Un⯑der how many ſubtilties, or abſurdities, has the divine right to govern been impoſed on the cre⯑dulity of mankind! Mr. Burke has diſcovered a [14] new one, and he has ſhortened his journey to Rome, by appealing to the power of this infal⯑lible parliament of former days; and he produces what it has done, as of divine authority: for that power muſt certainly be more than human, which no human power to the end of time can alter.

But Mr. Burke has done ſome ſervice, not to his cauſe, but to his country, by bringing thoſe clauſes into public view. They ſerve to demon⯑ſtrate how neceſſary it is at all times to watch againſt the attempted encroachment of power, and to prevent its running to exceſs. It is ſome⯑what extraordinary, that the offence for which James II. was expelled, that of ſetting up power by aſſumption, ſhould be re-acted, under another ſhape and form, by the parliament that expelled him. It ſhews, that the rights of man were but imperfectly underſtood at the Revolution; for, certain it is, that the right which that parliament ſet up by aſſumption (for by delegation it had it not, and could not have it, becauſe none could give it) over the perſons and freedom of poſterity for ever, was of the ſame tyrannical unſounded kind which James attempted to ſet up over the parliament and the nation, and for which he was expelled. The only difference is, (for in principle they dif⯑fer not), that the one was an uſurper over the living, and the other over the unborn; and as the one has no better authority to ſtand upon than the other, both of them muſt be equally null and void, and of no effect.

[15]From what, or from whence, does Mr. Burke prove the right of any human power to bind poſ⯑terity for ever? He has produced his clauſes; but he muſt produce alſo his proofs, that ſuch a right exiſted, and ſhew how it exiſted. If it ever exiſt⯑ed, it muſt now exiſt; for whatever appertains to the nature of man, cannot be annihilated by man. It is the nature of man to die, and he will continue to die as long as he continues to be born. But Mr. Burke has ſet up a ſort of political Adam, in whom all poſterity are bound for ever; he muſt therefore prove that his Adam poſſeſſed ſuch a power, or ſuch a right.

The weaker any cord is, the leſs will it bear to be ſtretched, and the worſe is the policy to ſtretch it, unleſs it is intended to break it. Had a perſon contemplated the overthrow of Mr. Burke's poſi⯑tions, he would have proceeded as Mr. Burke has done. He would have magnified the authorities, on purpoſe to have called the right of them into queſtion; and the inſtant the queſtion of right was ſtarted, the authorities muſt have been given up.

It requires but a very ſmall glance of thought to perceive, that altho' laws made in one generation often continue in force through ſucceeding genera⯑tions, yet that they continue to derive their force from the conſent of the living. A law not re⯑pealed continues in force, not becauſe it cannot be repealed, but becauſe it is not repealed; and the non-repealing paſſes for conſent.

But Mr. Burke's clauſes have not even this quali⯑fication in their favour. They become null, by [16] attempting to become immortal. The nature of them precludes conſent. They deſtroy the right which they might have, by grounding it on a right which they cannot have. Immortal power is not a human right, and therefore cannot be a right of parliament. The parliament of 1688 might as well have paſſed an act to have authorized them⯑ſelves to live for ever, as to make their authority live for ever. All therefore that can be ſaid of them is, that they are a formality of words, of as much im⯑port, as if thoſe who uſed them had addreſſed a con⯑gratulation to themſelves, and, in the oriental ſtile of antiquity, had ſaid, O Parliament, live for ever!

The circumſtances of the world are continully changing, and the opinions of men change alſo; and as government is for the living, and not for the dead, it is the living only that has any right in it. That which may be thought right and found convenient in one age, may be thought wrong and found inconvenient in another. In ſuch caſes, Who is to decide, the living, or the dead?

As almoſt one hundred pages of Mr. Burke's book are employed upon theſe clauſes, it will con⯑ſequently follow, that if the clauſes themſelves, ſo far as they ſet up an aſſumed, uſurped dominion over poſterity for ever, are unauthoritative, and in their nature null and void; that all his voluminous inferences and declamation drawn therefrom, or founded thereon, are null and void alſo: and on this ground I reſt the matter.

[17]We now come more particularly to the affairs of France. Mr. Burke's book has the appear⯑ance of being written as inſtruction to the French nation; but if I may permit myſelf the uſe of an extravagant metaphor, ſuited to the extravagance of the caſe, It is darkneſs attempting to illumi⯑nate light.

While I am writing this, there are accidentally before me ſome propoſals for a declaration of rights by the Marquis de la Fayette (I aſk his pardon for uſing his former addreſs, and do it only for diſtinc⯑tion's ſake) to the National Aſſembly, on the 11th of July 1789, three days before the taking of the Ba⯑ſtille; and I cannot but be ſtruck by obſerving how oppoſite the ſources are from which that Gentleman and Mr. Burke draw their principles. Inſtead of referring to muſty records and mouldy parchments to prove that the rights of the living are loſt, ‘re⯑nounced and abdicated for ever,’ by thoſe who are now no more, as Mr. Burke has done, M. de la Fayette applies to the living world, and empha⯑tically ſays, ‘Call to mind the ſentiments which Nature has engraved in the heart of every citizen, and which take a new force when they are ſo⯑lemnly recognized by all:—For a nation to love liberty, it is ſufficient that ſhe knows it; and to be free, it is ſufficient that ſhe wills it.’ How dry, barren, and obſcure, is the ſource from which Mr. Burke labours! and how ineffectual, though gay with flowers, are all his declamation and his argument, compared with theſe clear, conciſe, and ſoul-animating ſentiments! Few and ſhort as they [18] are, they lead on to a vaſt field of generous and manly thinking, and do not finiſh, like Mr. Burke's periods, with muſic in the ear, and nothing in the heart.

As I have introduced M. de la Fayette, I will take the liberty of adding an anecdote re⯑ſpecting his farewel addreſs to the Congreſs of America in 1783, and which occurred freſh to my mind when I ſaw Mr. Burke's thundering at⯑tack on the French Revolution.—M. de la Fayette went to America at an early period of the war, and continued a volunteer in her ſervice to the end. His conduct through the whole of that enterpriſe is one of the moſt extraordinary that is to be found in the hiſtory of a young man, ſcarcely then twenty years of age. Situated in a country that was like the lap of ſenſual pleaſure, and with the means of enjoying it, how few are there to be found who would exchange ſuch a ſcene for the woods and wilderneſſes of America, and paſs the flowery years of youth in unprofitable danger and hardſhip! but ſuch is the fact. When the war ended, and he was on the point of taking his final departure, he pre⯑ſented himſelf to Congreſs, and contemplating, in his affectionate farewel, the revolution he had ſeen, expreſſed himſelf in theſe words: ‘May this great monument, raiſed to Liberty, ſerve as a leſſon to the oppreſſor, and an example to the oppreſſed!’ —When this addreſs came to the hands of Doctor Franklin, who was then in France, he applied to Count Vergennes to have it inſerted in the French Gazette, but never could obtain his conſent. The [19] fact was, that Count Vergennes was an ariſto⯑cratical deſpot at home, and dreaded the example of the American revolution in France, as certain other perſons now dread the example of the French revolution in England; and Mr. Burke's tribute of fear (for in this light his book muſt be conſidered) runs parallel with Count Vergennes' refuſal. But, to return more particularly to his work—

‘We have ſeen (ſays Mr. Burke) the French rebel againſt a mild and lawful Monarch, with more fury, outrage, and inſult, than any people has been known to riſe againſt the moſt illegal uſurper, or the moſt ſanguinary tyrant.’—This is one among a thouſand other inſtances, in which Mr. Burke ſhews that he is ignorant of the ſprings and principles of the French revolution.

It was not againſt Louis the XVIth, but againſt the deſpotic principles of the government, that the nation revolted. Theſe principles had not their origin in him, but in the original eſtabliſhment, many centuries back; and they were become too deeply rooted to be removed, and the augean ſtable of paraſites and plunderers too abominably filthy to be cleanſed, by any thing ſhort of a complete and univerſal revolution. When it becomes neceſ⯑ſary to do a thing, the whole heart and ſoul ſhould go into the meaſure, or not attempt it. That criſis was then arrived, and there remained no choice but to act with determined vigour, or not to act at all. The king was known to be the friend of the nation, and this circumſtance was favourable to the enter⯑priſe. Perhaps no man bred up in the ſtile of an [20] abſolute King, ever poſſeſſed a heart ſo little diſpo⯑ſed to the exerciſe of that ſpecies of power as the preſent King of France. But the principles of the government itſelf ſtill remained the ſame. The Monarch and the Monarchy were diſtinct and ſepa⯑rate things; and it was againſt the eſtabliſhed deſpotiſm of the latter, and not againſt the per⯑ſon or principles of the former, that the revolt commenced, and the revolution has been carried.

Mr. Burke does not attend to the diſtinction between men and principles; and therefore, he does not ſee that a revolt may take place againſt the deſ⯑potiſm of the latter, while there lies no charge of deſpotiſm againſt the former.

The natural moderation of Louis XVI. contri⯑buted nothing to alter the hereditary deſpotiſm of the monarchy. All the tyrannies of former reigns, acted under that hereditary deſpotiſm, were ſtill liable to be revived in the hands of a ſuc⯑ceſſor. It was not the reſpite of a reign that would ſatisfy France, enlightened as ſhe was then become. A caſual diſcontinuance of the practice of deſpotiſm, is not a diſcontinuance of its princi⯑ples; the former depends on the virtue of the in⯑dividual who is in immediate poſſeſſion of the power; the latter, on the virtue and fortitude of the nation. In the caſe of Charles I. and James II. of England, the revolt was againſt the perſonal deſpotiſm of the men; whereas in France, it was againſt the hereditary deſpotiſm of the eſtabliſhed government. But men who can conſign over the [21] rights of poſterity for ever on the authority of a mouldy parchment, like Mr. Burke, are not qua⯑lified to judge of this revolution. It takes in a field too vaſt for their views to explore, and pro⯑ceeds with a mightineſs of reaſon they cannot keep pace with.

But there are many points of view in which this revolution may be conſidered. When deſpo⯑tiſm has eſtabliſhed itſelf for ages in a country, as in France, it is not in the perſon of the King only that it reſides. It has the appearance of being ſo in ſhow, and in nominal authority; but it is not ſo in practice, and in fact. It has its ſtandard every-where. Every office and department has its deſpotiſm, founded upon cuſtom and uſage. Every place has its Baſtille, and every Baſtille its deſpot. The original hereditary deſpotiſm reſi⯑dent in the perſon of the King, divides and ſubdi⯑vides itſelf into a thouſand ſhapes and forms, till at laſt the whole of it is acted by deputation. This was the caſe in France; and againſt this ſpecies of deſpotiſm, proceeding on through an endleſs labyrinth of office till the ſource of it is ſcarcely perceptible, there is no mode of redreſs. It ſtrengthens itſelf by aſſuming the appearance of duty, and tyranniſes under the pretence of obey⯑ing.

When a man reflects on the condition which France was in from the nature of her govern⯑ment, he will ſee other cauſes for revolt than thoſe which immediately connect themſelves with the perſon or character of Louis XVI. There were, [22] if I may ſo expreſs it, a thouſand deſpotiſms to be reformed in France, which had grown up un⯑der the hereditary deſpotiſm of the monarchy, and became ſo rooted as to be in a great meaſure inde⯑pendent of it. Between the monarchy, the par⯑liament, and the church, there was a rivalſhip of deſpotiſm; beſides the feudal deſpotiſm operating locally, and the miniſterial deſpotiſm operating every-where. But Mr. Burke, by conſidering the King as the only poſſible object of a revolt, ſpeaks as if France was a village, in which every thing that paſſed muſt be known to its commanding officer, and no oppreſſion could be acted but what he could immediately controul. Mr. Burke might have been in the Baſtille his whole life, as well under Louis XVI. as Louis XIV. and neither the one nor the other have known that ſuch a man as Mr. Burke exiſted. The deſpotic principles of the government were the ſame in both reigns, though the diſpoſitions of the men were as remote as tyranny and benevolence.

What Mr. Burke conſiders as a reproach to the French Revolution (that of bringing it for⯑ward under a reign more mild than the preced⯑ing ones), is one of its higheſt honours. The revolutions that have taken place in other Euro⯑pean countries, have been excited by perſonal hatred. The rage was againſt the man, and he became the victim. But, in the inſtance of France, we ſee a revolution generated in the rational contemplation of the rights of man, and diſ⯑tinguiſhing [23] from the beginning between perſons and principles.

But Mr. Burke appears to have no idea of principles, when he is contemplating governments. ‘Ten years ago (ſays he) I could have felicitated France on her having a government, without enquiring what the nature of that government was, or how it was adminiſtered.’ Is this the language of a rationable man? Is it the language of a heart feeling as it ought to feel for the rights and happineſs of the human race? On this ground, Mr. Burke muſt compliment every go⯑vernment in the world, while the victims who ſuffer under them, whether ſold into ſlavery, or tortured out of exiſtence, are wholly forgotten. It is power, and not principles, that Mr. Burke venerates; and under this abominable depravity, he is diſqualified to judge between them.—Thus much for his opinion as to the occaſions of the French Revolution. I now proceed to other conſiderations.

I know a place in America called Point-no-Point; becauſe as you proceed along the ſhore, gay and flowery as Mr. Burke's language, it con⯑tinually recedes and preſents itſelf at a diſtance before you; but when you have got as far as you can go, there is no point at all. Juſt thus it is with Mr. Burke's three hundred and fifty-ſix pages. It is therefore difficult to reply to him. But as the points he wiſhes to eſtabliſh, may be inferred from what he abuſes, it is in his paradoxes that we muſt look for his arguments.

[24]As to the tragic paintings by which Mr. Burke has outraged his own imagination, and ſeeks to work upon that of his readers, they are very well calculated for theatrical repreſentation, where facts are manufactured for the ſake of ſhow, and accommodated to produce, through the weakneſs of ſympathy, a weeping effect. But Mr. Burke ſhould recollect that he is writing Hiſtory, and not Plays; and that his readers will expect truth, and not the ſpouting rant of high-toned exclama⯑tion.

When we ſee a man dramatically lamenting in a publication intended to be believed, that, ‘The age of chivalry is gone! that The glory of Europe is ex⯑tinguiſhed for ever! that The unbought grace of life (if any one knows what it is), the cheap defence of nations, the nurſe of manly ſentiment and heroic enter⯑prize, is gone!’ and all this becauſe the Quixote age of chivalry nonſenſe is gone, What opinion can we form of his judgment, or what regard can we pay to his facts? In the rhapſody of his imagination, he has diſcovered a world of wind-mills, and his ſor⯑rows are, that there are no Quixotes to attack them. But if the age of ariſtocracy, like that of chivalry, ſhould fall, and they had originally ſome connection, Mr. Burke, the trumpeter of the Or⯑der, may continue his parody to the end, and finiſh with exclaiming—"Othello's occupation's gone!"

Notwithſtanding Mr. Burke's horrid paintings, when the French Revolution is compared with that of other countries, the aſtoniſhment will be, that it is marked with ſo few ſacrifices; but this [25] aſtoniſhment will ceaſe when we reflect that principles, and not perſons, were the meditated objects of deſtruction. The mind of the nation was acted upon by a higher ſtimulus than what the conſideration of perſons could inſpire, and ſought a higher conqueſt than could be produced by the downfal of an enemy. Among the few who fell, there do not appear to be any that were intentionally ſingled out. They all of them had their fate in the circumſtances of the moment, and were not purſued with that long, cold-blooded, unabated revenge which purſued the unfortunate Scotch in the affair of 1745.

Through the whole of Mr. Burke's book I do not obſerve that the Baſtille is mentioned more than once, and that with a kind of implication as if he were ſorry it was pulled down, and wiſhed it were built up again. ‘We have rebuilt New⯑gate (ſays he), and tenanted the manſion; and we have priſons almoſt as ſtrong as the Baſtille for thoſe who dare to libel the Queens of France^*.’ As to what a madman, like the perſon called Lord G— G—, might ſay, and to [26] whom Newgate is rather a bedlam than a priſon, it is unworthy a rational conſideration. It was a madman that libelled — and that is ſufficient apology; and it afforded an opportunity for con⯑fining him, which was the thing that was wiſhed for: But certain it is that Mr. Burke, who does not call himſelf a madman, whatever other people may do, has libelled, in the moſt unprovoked man⯑ner, and in the groſſeſt ſtile of the moſt vulgar abuſe, the whole repreſentative authority of France; and yet Mr. Burke takes his ſeat in the Britiſh Houſe of Commons! From his violence and his grief, his ſilence on ſome points, and his exceſs on others, it is difficult not to believe that Mr. Burke is ſorry, extremely ſorry, that arbitrary power, the power of the Pope, and the Baſtille, are pulled down.

Not one glance of compaſſion, not one commi⯑ſerating reflection, that I can find throughout his book, has he beſtowed on thoſe who lingered out the moſt wretched of lives, a life without hope, in the moſt miſerable of priſons. It is painful to be⯑hold a man employing his talents to corrupt him⯑ſelf. Nature has been kinder to Mr. Burke than he is to her. He is not affected by the reality of diſtreſs touching his heart, but by the ſhowy reſemblance of it ſtriking his imagination. He pities the plumage, but forgets the dying bird. Accuſtomed to kiſs the ariſtocratical hand that hath purloined him from himſelf, he degenerates into a compoſition of art, and the genuine ſoul of nature forſakes him. His hero or his heroine muſt [27] be a tragedy-victim expiring in ſhow, and not the real priſoner of miſery, ſliding into death in the ſilence of a dungeon.

As Mr. Burke has paſſed over the whole tranſac⯑tion of the Baſtille (and his ſilence is nothing in his favour), and has entertained his readers with reflec⯑tions on ſuppoſed facts diſtorted into real falſe⯑hoods, I will give, ſince he has not, ſome account of the circumſtances which preceded that tranſac⯑tion. They will ſerve to ſhew, that leſs miſchief could ſcarcely have accompanied ſuch an event, when conſidered with the treacherous and hoſtile aggravations of the enemies of the Revolution.

The mind can hardly picture to itſelf a more tremendous ſcene than what the city of Paris exhi⯑bited at the time of taking the Baſtille, and for two days before and after, nor conceive the poſſibility of its quieting ſo ſoon. At a diſtance, this tranſac⯑tion has appeared only as an act of heroiſm, ſtand⯑ing on itſelf; and the cloſe political connection it had with the Revolution is loſt in the brilliancy of the atchievement. But we are to conſider it as the ſtrength of the parties, brought man to man, and contending for the iſſue. The Baſtille was to be either the prize or the priſon of the aſſailants. The downfal of it included the idea of the down⯑fal of Deſpotiſm; and this compounded image was become as figuratively united as Bunyan's Doubt⯑ing Caſtle and Giant Deſpair.

The National Aſſembly, before and at the time of taking the Baſtille, was ſitting at Verſailles, twelve miles diſtant from Paris. About a week before the [28] riſing of the Pariſians, and their taking the Baſtille, it was diſcovered that a plot was forming, at the head of which was the Count d'Artois, the King's youngeſt brother, for demoliſhing the National Aſ⯑ſembly, ſeizing its members, and thereby cruſhing, by a coup de main, all hopes and proſpects of form⯑ing a free government. For the ſake of humanity, as well as of freedom, it is well this plan did not ſucceed. Examples are not wanting to ſhew how dreadfully vindictive and cruel are all old govern⯑ments, when they are ſucceſsful againſt what they call a revolt.

This plan muſt have been ſome time in con⯑templation; becauſe, in order to carry it into exe⯑cution, it was neceſſary to collect a large military force round Paris, and to cut off the communica⯑tion between that city and the National Aſſembly at Verſailles. The troops deſtined for this ſervice were chiefly the foreign troops in the pay of France, and who, for this particular purpoſe, were drawn from the diſtant provinces where they were then ſtationed. When they were collected, to the amount of between twenty-five and thirty thouſand, it was judged time to put the plan into execution. The miniſtry who were then in office, and who were friendly to the Revolution, were inſtantly diſmiſſed, and a new miniſtry formed of thoſe who had con⯑certed the project;—among whom was Count de Broglio, and to his ſhare was given the command of thoſe troops. The character of this man, as de⯑ſcribed to me in a letter which I communicated to Mr. Burke before he began to write his book, and [29] from an authority which Mr. Burke well knows was good, was that of ‘an high-flying ariſtocrat, cool, and capable of every miſchief.’

While theſe matters were agitating, the National Aſſembly ſtood in the moſt perilous and critical ſituation that a body of men can be ſuppoſed to act in. They were the devoted victims, and they knew it. They had the hearts and wiſhes of their coun⯑try on their ſide, but military authority they had none. The guards of Broglio ſurrounded the hall where the aſſembly ſat, ready, at the word of com⯑mand, to ſeize their perſons, as had been done the year before to the parliament of Paris. Had the National Aſſembly deſerted their truſt, or had they exhibited ſigns of weakneſs or fear, their enemies had been encouraged, and the country depreſſed. When the ſituation they ſtood in, the cauſe they were engaged in, and the criſis then ready to burſt which ſhould determine their perſonal and political fate, and that of their country, and probably of Europe, are taken into one view, none but a heart callous with prejudice, or corrupted by dependance, can avoid intereſting itſelf in their ſucceſs.

The archbiſhop of Vienne was at this time pre⯑ſident of the National Aſſembly; a perſon too old to undergo the ſcene that a few days, or a few hours, might bring forth. A man of more ac⯑tivity, and bolder fortitude, was neceſſary; and the National Aſſembly choſe (under the form of a vice-preſident, for the preſidency ſtill reſided in the archbiſhop) M. de la Fayette; and this is the only inſtance of a vice-preſident being [30] choſen. It was at the moment that this ſtorm was pending (July 11.) that a declaration of rights was brought forward by M. de la Fayette, and is the ſame which is alluded to in page 17. It was haſtily drawn up, and makes only a part of a more extenſive declaration of rights, agreed upon and adopted afterwards by the National Aſ⯑ſembly. The particular reaſon for bringing it forward at this moment, (M. de la Fayette has ſince informed me) was, that if the National Aſ⯑ſembly ſhould fall in the threatened deſtruction that then ſurrounded it, ſome traces of its princi⯑ples might have the chance of ſurviving the wreck.

Every thing now was drawing to a criſis. The event was freedom or ſlavery. On one ſide, an army of nearly thirty thouſand men; on the other, an unarmed body of citizens: for the citizens of Paris, on whom the National Aſſembly muſt then immediately depend, were as unarmed and as un⯑diſciplined as the citizens of London are now.— The French guards had given ſtrong ſymptoms of their being attached to the national cauſe; but their numbers were ſmall, not a tenth part of the force that Broglio commanded, and their officers were in the intereſt of Broglio.

Matters being now ripe for execution, the new miniſtry made their appearance in office. The reader will carry in his mind, that the Baſtille was taken the 14th of July: the point of time I am now ſpeaking to, is the 12th. Immediately on the news of the change of miniſtry reaching Paris, in the afternoon, all the play-houſes and places of [31] entertainment, ſhops and houſes, were ſhut up. The change of miniſtry was conſidered as the prelude of hoſtilities, and the opinion was rightly founded.

The foreign troops began to advance towards the city. The Prince de Lambeſc, who commanded a body of German cavalry, approached by the Place of Lewis XV. which connects itſelf with ſome of the ſtreets. In his march, he inſulted and ſtruck an old man with his ſword. The French are re⯑markable for their reſpect to old age, and the in⯑ſolence with which it appeared to be done, uniting with the general fermentation they were in, pro⯑duced a powerful effect, and a cry of To arms! to arms! ſpread itſelf in a moment over the city.

Arms they had none, nor ſcarcely any who knew the uſe of them: but deſperate reſolution, when every hope is at ſtake, ſupplies, for a while, the want of arms. Near where the Prince de Lam⯑beſc was drawn up, were large piles of ſtones collected for building the new bridge, and with theſe the people attacked the cavalry. A party of the French guards, upon hearing the firing, ruſhed from their quarters and joined the people; and night coming on, the cavalry retreated.

The ſtreets of Paris, being narrow, are favour⯑able for defence; and the loftineſs of the houſes, conſiſting of many ſtories, from which great annoy⯑ance might be given, ſecured them againſt noctur⯑nal enterpriſes; and the night was ſpent in provid⯑ing themſelves with every ſort of weapon they could make or procure: Guns, ſwords, black⯑ſmiths hammers, carpenters axes, iron crows, [32] pikes, halberts, pitchforks, ſpits, clubs, &c. &c. The incredible numbers with which they aſſem⯑bled the next morning, and the ſtill more incredible reſolution they exhibited, embarraſſed and aſtoniſhed their enemies. Little did the new miniſtry expect ſuch a ſalute. Accuſtomed to ſlavery themſelves, they had no idea that Li⯑berty was capable of ſuch inſpiration, or that a body of unarmed citizens would dare to face the military force of thirty thouſand men. Every moment of this day was employed in collecting arms, concerting plans, and arranging themſelves into the beſt order which ſuch an inſtantaneous movement could afford. Broglio continued lying round the city, but made no further advances this day, and the ſucceeding night paſſed with as much tranquillity as ſuch a ſcene could poſſibly produce.

But defence only was not the object of the ci⯑tizens. They had a cauſe at ſtake, on which de⯑pended their freedom or their ſlavery. They every moment expected an attack, or to hear of one made on the National Aſſembly; and in ſuch a ſituation, the moſt prompt meaſures are ſome⯑times the beſt. The object that now preſented it⯑ſelf was the Baſtille; and the eclat of carrying ſuch a fortreſs in the face of ſuch an army, could not fail to ſtrike a terror into the new miniſtry, who had ſcarcely yet had time to meet. By ſome intercepted correſpondence this morning, it was diſcovered, that the Mayor of Paris, M. Deff⯑leſſelles, who appeared to be in their intereſt, was betraying them; and from this diſcovery, there [33] remained no doubt that Broglio would reinforce the Baſtille the enſuing evening. It was therefore neceſſary to attack it that day; but before this could be done, it was firſt neceſſary to procure a better ſupply of arms than they were then poſſeſ⯑ed of.

There was adjoining to the city a large maga⯑zine of arms depoſited at the Hoſpital of the In⯑valids, which the citizens ſummoned to ſurren⯑der; and as the place was not defenſible, nor attempted much defence, they ſoon ſucceeded. Thus ſupplied, they marched to attack the Baſ⯑tille; a vaſt mixed multitude of all ages, and of all degrees, and armed with all ſorts of weapons. Imagination would fail in deſcribing to itſelf the appearance of ſuch a proceſſion, and of the anxie⯑ty for the events which a few hours or a few minutes might produce. What plans the mini⯑ſtry was forming, were as unknown to the peo⯑ple within the city, as what the citizens were doing was unknown to the miniſtry; and what move⯑ments Broglio might make for the ſupport or relief of the place, were to the citizens equally as un⯑known. All was myſtery and hazard.

That the Baſtille was attacked with an enthuſi⯑aſm of heroiſm, ſuch only as the higheſt animation of liberty could inſpire, and carried in the ſpace of a few hours, is an event which the world is fully poſſeſed of. I am not undertaking a detail of the attack; but bringing into view the conſpi⯑racy againſt the nation which provoked it, and which fell with the Baſtille. The priſon to which [34] the new miniſtry were dooming the National Aſ⯑ſembly, in addition to its being the high altar and caſtle of deſpotiſm, became the proper object to begin with. This enterpriſe broke up the new miniſtry, who began now to fly from the ruin they had prepared for others. The troops of Broglio diſperſed, and himſelf fled alſo.

Mr. Burke has ſpoken a great deal about plots, but he has never once ſpoken of this plot againſt the National Aſſembly, and the liberties of the nation; and that he might not, he has paſſed over all the circumſtances that might throw it in his way. The exiles who have fled from France, whoſe caſe he ſo much intereſts himſelf in, and from whom he has had his leſſon, fled in conſe⯑quence of the miſcarriage of this plot. No plot was formed againſt them: they were plotting againſt others; and thoſe who fell, met, not unjuſtly, the puniſhment they were preparing to execute. But will Mr. Burke ſay, that if this plot, contrived with the ſubtilty of an ambuſcade, had ſucceeded, the ſucceſsful party would have reſtrained their wrath ſo ſoon? Let the hiſtory of all old governments anſwer the queſtion.

Whom has the National Aſſembly brought to the ſcaffold? None. They were themſelves the devoted victims of this plot, and they have not re⯑taliated; why then are they charged with revenge they have not acted? In the tremendous breaking forth of a whole people, in which all degrees, tempers and characters are confounded, and de⯑livering themſelves, by a miracle of exertion, [35] from the deſtruction meditated againſt them, is it to be expected that nothing will happen? When men are ſore with the ſenſe of oppreſſions, and menaced with the proſpect of new ones, is the calmneſs of philoſophy, or the palſy of inſenſi⯑bility, to be looked for? Mr. Burke exclaims againſt outrage; yet the greateſt is that which himſelf has committed. His book is a volume of outrage, not apologized for by the impulſe of a moment, but cheriſhed through a ſpace of ten months; yet Mr. Burke had no provocation—no life, no intereſt at ſtake.

More of the citizens fell in this ſtruggle than of their opponents: but four or five perſons were ſeized by the populace, and inſtantly put to death; the Governor of the Baſtille, and the Mayor of Paris, who was detected in the act of betraying them; and afterwards Foulon, one of the new mi⯑niſtry, and Berthier his ſon-in-law, who had accep⯑ted the office of Intendant of Paris. Their heads were ſtuck upon ſpikes, and carried about the city; and it is upon this mode of puniſhment that Mr. Burke builds a great part of his tragic ſcene. Let us therefore examine how men came by the idea of puniſhing in this manner.

They learn it from the governments they live under, and retaliate the puniſhments they have been accuſtomed to behold. The heads ſtuck upon ſpikes, which remained for years upon Temple-bar, differed nothing in the horror of the ſcene from thoſe carried about upon ſpikes at Paris: yet this was done by the Engliſh go⯑vernment. [34] [...] [35] [...] [36] It may perhaps be ſaid, that it ſigni⯑fies nothing to a man what is done to him after he is dead; but it ſignifies much to the living: it either tortures their feelings, or hardens their hearts; and in either caſe, it inſtructs them how to puniſh when power falls into their hands.

Lay then the axe to the root, and teach govern⯑ments humanity. It is their ſanguinary puniſh⯑ments which corrupt mankind. In England, the puniſhment in certain caſes, is by hanging, draw⯑ing, and quartering; the heart of the ſufferer is cut out, and held up to the view of the populace. In France, under the former goverment, the pu⯑niſhments were not leſs barbarous. Who does not remember the execution of Damien, torn to pieces by horſes? The effect of thoſe cruel ſpecta⯑cles exhibited to the populace, is to deſtroy ten⯑derneſs, or excite revenge; and by the baſe and falſe idea of governing men by terror, inſtead of reaſon, they become precedents. It is over the loweſt claſs of mankind that government by terror is intended to operate, and it is on them that it operates to the worſt effect. They have ſenſe enough to feel they are the objects aimed at; and they inflict in their turn the examples of terror they have been inſtructed to practiſe.

There is in all European countries, a large claſs of people of that deſcription which in Eng⯑land is called the "mob." Of this claſs were thoſe who committed the burnings and devaſta⯑tions in London in 1780, and of this claſs were thoſe who carried the heads upon ſpikes in Paris. [37] Foulon and Berthier were taken up in the coun⯑try, and ſent to Paris, to undergo their examina⯑tion at the Hotel de Ville; for the National Aſ⯑ſembly, immediately on the new miniſtry coming into office, paſſed a decree, which they commu⯑nicated to the King and Cabinet, that they (the National Aſſembly) would hold the miniſtry, of which Foulon was one, reſponſible for the mea⯑ſures they were adviſing and purſuing; but the mob, incenſed at the appearance of Foulon and Berthier, tore them from their conductors before they were carried to the Hotel de Ville, and exe⯑cuted them on the ſpot. Why then does Mr. Burke charge outrages of this kind on a whole people? As well may he charge the riots and outrages of 1780 on all the people of London, or thoſe in Ireland on all his countrymen.

But every thing we ſee or hear offenſive to our feelings, and derogatory to the human character, ſhould lead to other reflections than thoſe of re⯑proach. Even the beings who commit them have ſome claim to our conſideration. How then is it that ſuch vaſt claſſes of mankind as are diſ⯑tinguiſhed by the appellation of the vulgar, or the ignorant mob, are ſo numerous in all old countries? The inſtant we aſk ourſelves this queſtion, reflection feels an anſwer. They ariſe, as an unavoidable conſequence, out of the ill conſtruction of all old governments in Europe, England included with the reſt. It is by diſtorted⯑ly exalting ſome men, that others are diſtortedly debaſed, till the whole is out of nature. A vaſt [38] maſs of mankind are degradedly thrown into the back-ground of the human picture, to bring for⯑ward with greater glare, the puppet-ſhow of ſtate and ariſtocracy. In the commencement of a Revolution, thoſe men are rather the followers of the camp than of the ſtandard of liberty, and have yet to be inſtructed how to reverence it.

I give to Mr. Burke all his theatrical exagge⯑rations for facts, and I then aſk him, if they do not eſtabliſh the certainty of what I here lay down? Admitting them to be true, they ſhew the neceſſi⯑ty of the French Revolution, as much as any one thing he could have aſſerted. Theſe outrages were not the effect of the principles of the Revolution, but of the degraded mind that exiſted before the Revolution, and which the Revolution is calculated to reform. Place them then to their proper cauſe, and take the reproach of them to your own ſide.

It is to the honour of the National Aſſembly, and the city of Paris, that during ſuch a tremen⯑dous ſcene of arms and confuſion, beyond the controul of all authority, they have been able, by the influence of example and exhortation, to reſtrain ſo much. Never were more pains taken to inſtruct and enlighten mankind, and to make them ſee that their intereſt conſiſted in their virtue, and not in their revenge, than have been diſplayed in the Revolution of France. I now proceed to make ſome remarks on Mr. Burke's account of the expedition to Verſailles, October the 5th and 6th.

[39]I cannot conſider Mr. Burke's book in ſcarcely any other light than a dramatic performance; and he muſt, I think, have conſidered it in the ſame light himſelf, by the poetical liberties he has taken of omitting ſome facts, diſtorting others, and making the whole machinery bend to pro⯑duce a ſtage effect. Of this kind is his account of the expedition to Verſailles. He begins this account by omitting the only facts which as cauſes are known to be true; every thing beyond theſe is conjecture even in Paris: and he then works up a tale accommodated to his own paſſions and prejudices.

It is to be obſerved throughout Mr. Burke's book, that he never ſpeaks of plots againſt the Revolution; and it is from thoſe plots that all the miſchiefs have ariſen. It ſuits his purpoſe to exhibit the conſequences without their cauſes. It is one of the arts of the drama to do ſo. If the crimes of men were exhibited with their ſufferings, ſtage effect would ſometimes be loſt, and the audience would be inclined to ap⯑prove where it was intended they ſhould commi⯑ſerate.

After all the inveſtigations that have been made into this intricate affair, (the expedition to Ver⯑ſailles), it ſtill remains enveloped in all that kind of myſtery which ever accompanies events produ⯑ced more from a concurrence of awkward circum⯑ſtances, than from fixed deſign. While the cha⯑racters of men are forming, as is always the caſe in revolutions, there is a reciprocal ſuſpicion, and [40] a diſpoſition to miſinterpret each other; and even parties directly oppoſite in principle, will ſome⯑times concur in puſhing forward the ſame move⯑ment with very different views, and with the hopes of its producing very different conſequences. A great deal of this may be diſcovered in this em⯑barraſſed affair, and yet the iſſue of the whole was what nobody had in view.

The only things certainly known, are, that con⯑ſiderable uneaſineſs was at this time excited at Paris, by the delay of the King in not ſanctioning and forwarding the decrees of the National Aſſem⯑bly, particularly that of the Declaration of the Rights of Man, and the decrees of the fourth of Auguſt, which contained the foundation principles on which the conſtitution was to be erected. The kindeſt, and perhaps the faireſt conjecture upon this matter is, that ſome of the miniſters intended to make remarks and obſervations upon certain parts of them, before they were finally ſanctioned and ſent to the provinces; but be this as it may, the enemies of the revolution derived hope from the delay, and the friends of the revolution, un⯑eaſineſs.

During this ſtate of ſuſpenſe, the Garde du Corps, which was compoſed, as ſuch regiments generally are, of perſons much connected with the Court, gave an entertainment at Verſailles (Oct. 1,) to ſome foreign regiments then arrived; and when the entertainment was at the height, on a ſignal given, the Garde du Corps tore the national cockade from their hats, trampled it under foot, and re⯑placed [41] it with a counter cockade prepared for the purpoſe. An indignity of this kind amounted to defiance. It was like declaring war; and if men will give challenges, they muſt expect conſequen⯑ces. But all this Mr. Burke has carefully kept out of ſight. He begins his account by ſaying, ‘Hiſtory will record, that on the morning of the 6th of October 1789, the King and Queen of France, after a day of confuſion, alarm, diſmay, and ſlaughter, lay down under the pledged ſecu⯑rity of public faith, to indulge nature in a few hours of reſpite, and troubled melancholy re⯑poſe.’ This is neither the ſober ſtile of hiſ⯑tory, nor the intention of it. It leaves every thing to be gueſſed at, and miſtaken. One would at leaſt think there had been a battle; and a battle there probably would have been, had it not been for the moderating prudence of thoſe whom Mr. Burke involves in his cenſures. By his keeping the Garde du Corps out of ſight, Mr. Burke has afforded himſelf the dramatic licence of putting the King and Queen in their places, as if the ob⯑ject of the expedition was againſt them.—But, to return to my account—

This conduct of the Garde du Corps, as might well be expected, alarmed and enraged the Pari⯑ſians. The colours of the cauſe, and the cauſe itſelf, were become too united to miſtake the in⯑tention of the inſult, and the Pariſians were deter⯑mined to call the Garde du Corps to an account. There was certainly nothing of the cowardice of aſſaſſination in marching in the face of day to de⯑mand [42] ſatisfaction, if ſuch a phraſe may be uſed, of a body of armed men who had voluntarily given defiance. But the circumſtance which ſerves to throw this affair into embarraſſment is, that the enemies of the revolution appear to have encoura⯑ged it, as well as its friends. The one hoped to prevent a civil war by checking it in time, and the other to make one. The hopes of thoſe oppoſed to the revolution, reſted in making the King of their party, and getting him from Verſailles to Metz, where they expected to collect a force, and ſet up a ſtandard. We have therefore two different ob⯑jects preſenting themſelves at the ſame time, and to be accompliſhed by the ſame means: the one, to chaſtiſe the Garde du Corps, which was the object of the Pariſians; the other, to render the confu⯑ſion of ſuch a ſcene an inducement to the King to ſet off for Metz.

On the 5th of October, a very numerous body of women, and men in the diſguiſe of women, collected round the Hotel de Ville or town-hall at Paris, and ſet off for Verſailles. Their profeſſed object was the Garde du Corps; but prudent men readily recollect that miſchief is more eaſily begun than ended; and this impreſſed itſelf with the more force, from the ſuſpicions already ſtated, and the irregularity of ſuch a cavalcade. As ſoon there⯑fore as a ſufficient force could be collected, M. de la Fayette, by orders from the civil authority of Paris, ſet off after them at the head of twenty thouſand of the Paris militia. The revolution could derive no benefit from confuſion, and its [43] oppoſers might. By an amiable and ſpirited man⯑ner of addreſs, he had hitherto been fortunate in calming diſquietudes, and in this he was extraor⯑dinarily ſucceſsful; to fruſtrate, therefore, the hopes of thoſe who might ſeek to improve this ſcene into a ſort of juſtifiable neceſſity for the King's quitting Verſailles and withdrawing to Metz, and to pre⯑vent at the ſame time the conſequences that might enſue between the Garde du Corps and this phalanx of men and women, he forwarded expreſſes to the King, that he was on his march to Verſailles, by the orders of the civil authority of Paris, for the purpoſe of peace and protection, expreſſing at the ſame time the neceſſity of reſtraining the Garde du Corps from firing upon the people^*.

He arrived at Verſailles between ten and eleven at night. The Garde du Corps was drawn up, and the people had arrived ſome time before, but every thing had remained ſuſpended. Wiſdom and policy now conſiſted in changing a ſcene of danger into a happy event. M. de la Fayette became the mediator between the enraged parties; and the King, to remove the uneaſineſs which had ariſen from the delay already ſtated, ſent for the Preſident of the National Aſſembly, and ſigned the Declaration of the Rights of Man, and ſuch other parts of the conſtitution as were in readineſs.

It was now about one in the morning. Every thing appeared to be compoſed, and a general [44] congratulation took place. By the beat of drum a proclamation was made, that the citizens of Verſailles would give the hoſpitality of their houſes to their fellow-citizens of Paris. Thoſe who could not be accommodated in this manner, remained in the ſtreets, or took up their quarters in the churches; and at two o'clock the King and Queen retired.

In this ſtate matters paſſed till the break of day, when a freſh diſturbance aroſe from the cenſurable conduct of ſome of both parties, for ſuch charac⯑ters there will be in all ſuch ſcenes. One of the Garde du Corps appeared at one of the windows of the palace, and the people who had remained during the night in the ſtreets accoſted him with reviling and provocative language. Inſtead of retiring, as in ſuch a caſe prudence would have dictated, he preſented his muſket, fired, and kil⯑led one of the Paris militia. The peace being thus broken, the people ruſhed into the palace in queſt of the offender. They attacked the quar⯑ters of the Garde du Corps within the palace, and purſued them throughout the avenues of it, and to the apartments of the King. On this tumult, not the Queen only, as Mr. Burke has repreſented it, but every perſon in the palace, was awakened and alarmed; and M. de la Fayette had a ſecond time to interpoſe between the parties, the event of which was, that the Garde du Corps put on the national cockade, and the matter ended as by oblivion, after the loſs of two or three lives.

[45]During the latter part of the time in which this confuſion was acting, the King and Queen were in public at the balcony, and neither of them concealed for ſafety's ſake, as Mr. Burke in⯑ſinuates. Matters being thus appeaſed, and tran⯑quillity reſtored, a general acclamation broke forth, of Le Roi à Paris—Le Roi à Paris—The King to Paris. It was the ſhout of peace, and immediately accepted on the part of the King. By this mea⯑ſure, all future projects of trapanning the King to Metz, and ſetting up the ſtandard of oppoſition to the conſtitution, were prevented, and the ſuſpi⯑cions extinguiſhed. The King and his family reached Paris in the evening, and were congra⯑tulated on their arrival by Mr. Bailley the Mayor of Paris, in the name of the citizens. Mr. Burke, who throughout his book confounds things, per⯑ſons, and principles, has in his remarks on M. Bailley's addreſs, confounded time alſo. He cen⯑ſures M. Bailley for calling it, "un bon jour," a good day. Mr. Burke ſhould have informed him⯑ſelf, that this ſcene took up the ſpace of two days, the day on which it began with every appearance of danger and miſchief, and the day on which it terminated without the miſchiefs that threatened; and that it is to this peaceful termination that M. Bailley alludes, and to the arrival of the King at Paris. Not leſs than three hundred thouſand perſons arranged themſelves in the proceſſion from Verſailles to Paris, and not an act of moleſtation was committed during the whole march.

[46]Mr. Burke, on the authority of M. Lally Tol⯑lendal, a deſerter from the National Aſſembly, ſays, that on entering Paris, the people ſhouted, "Tous les eveques à la lanterne." All Biſhops to be hanged at the lanthorn or lamp-poſts.—It is ſur⯑priſing that nobody could hear this but Lally Tollendal, and that nobody ſhould believe it but Mr. Burke. It has not the leaſt connection with any part of the tranſaction, and is totally foreign to every circumſtance of it. The biſhops had never been introduced before into any ſcene of Mr. Burke's drama; Why then are they, all at once, and altogether, tout à coup et tous enſemble, introduced now? Mr. Burke brings forward his biſhops and his lanthorn like figures in a magic lanthorn, and raiſes his ſcenes by contraſt inſtead of connection. But it ſerves to ſhew, with the reſt of his book, what little credit ought to be given, where even probability is ſet at defiance, for the purpoſe of defaming; and with this reflec⯑tion, inſtead of a ſoliloquy in praiſe of chivalry, as Mr. Burke has done, I cloſe the account of the expedition to Verſailles^*.

I have now to follow Mr. Burke through a path⯑leſs wilderneſs of rhapſodies, and a ſort of deſcant upon governments, in which he aſſerts whatever he pleaſes, on the preſumption of its being be⯑lieved, [47] without offering either evidence or rea⯑ſons for ſo doing.

Before any thing can be reaſoned upon to a concluſion, certain facts, principles, or data, to reaſon from, muſt be eſtabliſhed, admitted, or de⯑nied. Mr. Burke, with his uſual outrage, abuſes the Declaration of the Rights of Man, publiſhed by the National Aſſembly of France as the baſis on which the conſtitution of France is built. This he calls "paltry and blurred ſheets of paper about the rights of man."—Does Mr. Burke mean to deny that man has any rights? If he does, then he muſt mean that there are no ſuch things as rights any where, and that he has none himſelf; for who is there in the world but man? But if Mr. Burke means to admit that man has rights, the queſtion then will be, What are thoſe rights, and how came man by them originally?

The error of thoſe who reaſon by precedents drawn from antiquity, reſpecting the rights of man, is, that they do not go far enough into an⯑tiquity. They do not go the whole way. They ſtop in ſome of the intermediate ſtages of an hundred or a thouſand years, and produce what was then done, as a rule for the preſent day. This is no au⯑thority at all. If we travel ſtill farther into anti⯑quity, we ſhall find a direct contrary opinion and practice prevailing; and if antiquity is to be au⯑thority, a thouſand ſuch authorities may be pro⯑duced, ſucceſſively contradicting each other: But if we proceed on, we ſhall at laſt come out right; we ſhall come to the time when man came from [48] the hand of his Maker. What was he then? Man. Man was his high and only title, and a higher cannot be given him.—But of titles I ſhall ſpeak hereafter.

We are now got at the origin of man, and at the origin of his rights. As to the manner in which the world has been governed from that day to this, it is no farther any concern of ours than to make a proper uſe of the errors or the improve⯑ments which the hiſtory of it preſents. Thoſe who lived a hundred or a thouſand years ago, were then moderns, as we are now. They had their ancients, and thoſe ancients had others, and we alſo ſhall be ancients in our turn. If the mere name of anti⯑quity is to govern in the affairs of life, the people who are to live an hundred or a thouſand years hence, may as well take us for a precedent, as we make a precedent of thoſe who lived an hundred or a thouſand years ago. The fact is, that por⯑tions of antiquity, by proving every thing, eſtabliſh nothing. It is authority againſt authority all the way, till we come to the divine origin of the rights of man at the creation. Here our enquiries find a reſting-place, and our reaſon finds a home. If a diſpute about the rights of man had ariſen at the diſtance of an hundred years from the creation, it is to this ſource of authority they muſt have re⯑ferred, and it is to the ſame ſource of authority that we muſt now refer.

Though I mean not to touch upon any ſectarian principle of religion, yet it may be worth obſerv⯑ing, that the genealogy of Chriſt is traced to Adam. [49] Why then not trace the rights of man to the crea⯑tion of man? I will anſwer the queſtion. Be⯑cauſe there have been upſtart governments thruſting themſelves between, and preſumptuouſly working to un-make man.

If any generation of men ever poſſeſſed the right of dictating the mode by which the world ſhould be governed for ever, it was the firſt generation that exiſted; and if that generation did it not, no ſucceeding generation can ſhew any authority for doing it, nor can ſet any up. The illuminating and divine principle of the equal rights of man, (for it has its origin from the Maker of man) re⯑lates, not only to the living individuals, but to ge⯑nerations of men ſucceeding each other. Every generation is equal in rights to the generations which preceded it, by the ſame rule that every individual is born equal in rights with his contem⯑porary.

Every hiſtory of the creation, and every tradi⯑tionary account, whether from the lettered or un⯑lettered world, however they may vary in their opinion or belief of certain particulars, all agree in eſtabliſhing one point, the unity of man; by which I mean, that men are all of one degree, and conſequently that all men are born equal, and with equal natural right, in the ſame manner as if po⯑ſterity had been continued by creation inſtead of generation, the latter being only the mode by which the former is carried forward; and conſequently, every child born into the world muſt be conſidered as deriving its exiſtence from God. The world is [50] as new to him as it was to the firſt man that ex⯑iſted, and his natural right in it is of the ſame kind.

The Moſaic account of the creation, whether taken as divine authority, or merely hiſtorical, is full to this point, the unity or equality of man. The expreſſions admit of no controverſy. ‘And God ſaid, Let us make man in our own image. In the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.’ The diſtinction of ſexes is pointed out, but no other diſtinction is even implied If this be not divine authority, it is at leaſt hiſtorical authority, and ſhews that the equality of man, ſo far from being a modern doc⯑trine, is the oldeſt upon record.

It is alſo to be obſerved, that all the religions known in the world are founded, ſo far as they relate to man, on the unity of man, as being all of one degree. Whether in heaven or in hell, or in whatever ſtate man may be ſuppoſed to exiſt here⯑after, the good and the bad are the only diſtinc⯑tions. Nay, even the laws of governments are obliged to ſlide into this principle, by making de⯑grees to conſiſt in crimes, and not in perſons.

It is one of the greateſt of all truths, and of the higheſt advantage to cultivate. By conſidering man in this light, and by inſtructing him to conſi⯑der himſelf in this light, it places him in a cloſe connection with all his duties, whether to his Cre⯑ator, or to the creation, of which he is a part; and it is only when he forgets his origin, or, to uſe a more faſhionable phraſe, his birth and family, that [51] he becomes diſſolute. It is not among the leaſt of the evils of the preſent exiſting governments in all parts of Europe, that man, conſidered as man, is thrown back to a vaſt diſtance from his Maker, and the artificial chaſm filled up by a ſucceſſion of barriers, or ſort of turnpike gates, through which he has to paſs. I will quote Mr. Burke's catalogue of barriers that he has ſet up between man and his Maker. Putting himſelf in the character of a he⯑rald, he ſays—‘We fear God—we look with awe to kings—with affection to parliaments—with duty to magiſtrates—with reverence to prieſts, and with reſpect to nobility.’ Mr. Burke has forgotten to put in "chivalry." He has alſo for⯑gotten to put in Peter.

The duty of man is not a wilderneſs of turnpike gates, through which he is to paſs by tickets from one to the other. It is plain and ſimple, and con⯑ſiſts but of two points. His duty to God, which every man muſt feel; and with reſpect to his neighbour, to do as he would be done by. If thoſe to whom power is delegated do well, they will be reſpected; if not, they will be deſpiſed: and with regard to thoſe to whom no power is de⯑legated, but who aſſume it, the rational world can know nothing of them.

Hitherto we have ſpoken only (and that but in part) of the natural rights of man. We have now to conſider the civil rights of man, and to ſhew how the one originates from the other. Man did not enter into ſociety to become worſe than he was before, nor to have fewer rights than he had [52] before, but to have thoſe rights better ſecured. His natural rights are the foundation of all his civil rights. But in order to purſue this diſtinction with more preciſion, it will be neceſſary to mark the different qualities of natural and civil rights.

A few words will explain this. Natural rights are thoſe which appertain to man in right of his exiſtence. Of this kind are all the intellectual rights, or rights of the mind, and alſo all thoſe rights of acting as an individual for his own com⯑fort and happineſs, which are not injurious to the natural rights of others.—Civil rights are thoſe which appertain to man in right of his being a member of ſociety. Every civil right has for its foundation, ſome natural right pre-exiſting in the individual, but to the enjoyment of which his individual power is not, in all caſes, ſufficiently competent. Of this kind are all thoſe which relate to ſecurity and protection.

From this ſhort review, it will be eaſy to diſtin⯑guiſh between that claſs of natural rights which man retains after entering into ſociety, and thoſe which he throws into the common ſtock as a mem⯑ber of ſociety.

The natural rights which he retains, are all thoſe in which the power to execute is as perfect in the individual as the right itſelf. Among this claſs, as is before mentioned, are all the intellectual rights, or rights of the mind: conſequently, re⯑ligion is one of thoſe rights. The natural rights which are not retained, are all thoſe in which, though the right is perfect in the individual, the [53] power to execute them is defective. They an⯑ſwer not his purpoſe. A man, by natural right, has a right to judge in his own cauſe; and ſo far as the right of the mind is concerned, he never ſurrenders it: But what availeth it him to judge, if he has not power to redreſs? He therefore de⯑poſits this right in the common ſtock of ſociety, and takes the arm of ſociety, of which he is a part, in preference and in addition to his own. Society grants him nothing. Every man is a proprietor in ſociety, and draws on the capital as a matter of right.

From theſe premiſes, two or three certain con⯑cluſions will follow.

Firſt, That every civil right grows out of a na⯑tural right; or, in other words, is a natural right exchanged.

Secondly, That civil power, properly conſidered as ſuch, is made up of the aggregate of that claſs of the natural rights of man, which becomes de⯑fective in the individual in point of power, and an⯑ſwers not his purpoſe; but when collected to a focus, becomes competent to the purpoſe of every one.

Thirdly, That the power produced from the ag⯑gregate of natural rights, imperfect in power in the individual, cannot be applied to invade the natu⯑ral rights which are retained in the individual, and in which the power to execute is as per⯑fect as the right itſelf.

We have now, in a few words, traced man from a natural individual to a member of ſociety, and ſhewn, or endeavoured to ſhew, the quality of the [54] natural rights retained, and of thoſe which are ex⯑changed for civil rights. Let us now apply theſe principles to governments.

In caſting our eyes over the world, it is ex⯑tremely eaſy to diſtinguiſh the governments which have ariſen out of ſociety, or out of the ſocial com⯑pact, from thoſe which have not: but to place this in a clearer light than what a ſingle glance may afford, it will be proper to take a review of the ſeveral ſources from which governments have a⯑riſen, and on which they have been founded.

They may be all comprehended under three heads. Firſt, Superſtition. Secondly, Power. Thirdly, The common intereſt of ſociety, and the common rights of man.

The firſt was a government of prieſtcraft, the ſecond of conquerors, and the third of reaſon.

When a ſet of artful men pretended, through the medium of oracles, to hold intercourſe with the Deity, as familiarly as they now march up the back⯑ſtairs in European courts, the world was completely under the government of ſuperſtition. The oracles were conſulted, and whatever they were made to ſay, became the law; and this ſort of government laſted as long as this ſort of ſuperſtition laſted.

After theſe a race of conquerors aroſe, whoſe government, like that of William the Conqueror, was founded in power, and the ſword aſſumed the name of a ſcepter. Governments thus eſtabliſhed, laſt as long as the power to ſupport them laſts; but that they might avail themſelves of every engine in their favour, they united fraud to force, [55] and ſet up an idol which they called Divine Right, and which, in imitation of the Pope, who affects to be ſpiritual and temporal, and in contradiction to the Founder of the Chriſtian religion, twiſted itſelf afterwards into an idol of another ſhape, called Church and State. The key of St. Peter, and the key of the Treaſury, became quartered on one another, and the wondering cheated multitude worſhipped the invention.

When I contemplate the natural dignity of man; when I feel (for Nature has not been kind enough to me to blunt my feelings) for the honour and happineſs of its character, I become irritated at the attempt to govern mankind by force and fraud, as if they were all knaves and fools, and can ſcarcely avoid diſguſt at thoſe who are thus impoſed upon.

We have now to review the governments which ariſe out of ſociety, in contradiſtinction to thoſe which aroſe out of ſuperſtition and conqueſt.

It has been thought a conſiderable advance to⯑wards eſtabliſhing the principles of Freedom, to ſay, that government is a compact between thoſe who govern and thoſe who are governed: but this can⯑not be true, becauſe it is putting the effect before the cauſe; for as man muſt have exiſted before governments exiſted, there neceſſarily was a time when governments did not exiſt, and conſequently there could originally exiſt no governors to form ſuch a compact with. The fact therefore muſt be, that the individuals themſelves, each in his own perſonal and ſovereign right, entered into a compact with each other to produce a government: and this [56] is the only mode in which governments have a right to ariſe, and the only principle on which they have a right to exiſt.

To poſſeſs ourſelves of a clear idea of what go⯑vernment is, or ought to be, we muſt trace it to its origin. In doing this, we ſhall eaſily diſcover that governments muſt have ariſen, either out of the people, or over the people. Mr. Burke has made no diſtinction. He inveſtigates nothing to its ſource, and therefore he confounds every thing: but he has ſignified his intention of undertaking at ſome future opportunity, a compariſon between the conſtitutions of England and France. As he thus renders it a ſubject of controverſy by throwing the gauntlet, I take him up on his own ground. It is in high challenges that high truths have the right of appearing; and I accept it with the more readineſs, becauſe it affords me, at the ſame time, an opportunity of purſuing the ſubject with reſpect to governments ariſing out of ſociety.

But it will be firſt neceſſary to define what is meant by a conſtitution. It is not ſufficient that we adopt the word; we muſt fix alſo a ſtandard ſigni⯑fication to it.

A conſtitution is not a thing in name only, but in fact. It has not an ideal, but a real exiſtence; and wherever it cannot be produced in a viſible form, there is none. A conſtitution is a thing an⯑tecedent to a government, and a government is only the creature of a conſtitution. The conſtitution of a country is not the act of its government, but of the people conſtituting a government. It is the [57] body of elements, to which you can refer, and quote article by article; and which contains the principles on which the government ſhall be eſta⯑bliſhed, the manner in which it ſhall be organized, the powers it ſhall have, the mode of elections, the duration of parliaments, or by what other name ſuch bodies may be called; the powers which the executive part of the government ſhall have; and, in fine, every thing that relates to the compleat or⯑ganization of a civil government, and the principles on which it ſhall act, and by which it ſhall be bound. A conſtitution, therefore, is to a govern⯑ment, what the laws made afterwards by that go⯑vernment are to a court of judicature. The court of judicature does not make the laws, neither can it alter them; it only acts in conformity to the laws made: and the government is in like manner go⯑verned by the conſtitution.

Can then Mr. Burke produce the Engliſh Con⯑ſtitution? If he cannot, we may fairly conclude, that though it has been ſo much talked about, no ſuch thing as a conſtitution exiſts, or ever did exiſt, and conſequently that the people have yet a conſtitution to form.

Mr. Burke will not, I preſume, deny the poſition I have already advanced; namely, that govern⯑ments ariſe, either out of the people, or over the people. The Engliſh government is one of thoſe which aroſe out of a conqueſt, and not out of ſociety, and conſequently it aroſe over the people; and though it has been much modified from the opportunity of circumſtances ſince the time of [58] William the Conqueror, the country has never yet regenerated itſelf, and is therefore without a conſtitution.

I readily perceive the reaſon why Mr. Burke declined going into the compariſon between the Engliſh and French conſtitutions, becauſe he could not but perceive, when he ſat down to the taſk, that no ſuch thing as a conſtitution exiſted on his ſide the queſtion. His book is certainly bulky enough to have contained all he could ſay on this ſubject, and it would have been the beſt manner in which people could have judged of their ſeparate merits. Why then has he declined the only thing that was worth while to write upon? It was the ſtrongeſt ground he could take, if the advantages were on his ſide; but the weakeſt, if they were not: and his declining to take it, is either a ſign that he could not poſſeſs it, or could not maintain it.

Mr. Burke ſaid in a ſpeech laſt winter in parliament, That when the National Aſſembly firſt met in three Orders, (the Tiers Etats, the Clergy, and the Nobleſſe), France had then a good conſtitution. This ſhews, among nume⯑rous other inſtances, that Mr. Burke does not underſtand what a conſtitution is. The perſons ſo met, were not a conſtitution, but a convention, to make a conſtitution.

The preſent National Aſſembly of France is, ſtrictly ſpeaking, the perſonal ſocial compact.— The members of it are the delegates of the na⯑tion in its original character; future aſſemblies will be the delegates of the nation in its organized [59] character. The authority of the preſent Aſſembly is different to what the authority of future Aſſem⯑blies will be. The authority of the preſent one is to form a conſtitution: the authority of future Aſſemblies will be to legiſlate according to the principles and forms preſcribed in that conſtitu⯑tion; and if experience ſhould hereafter ſhew that alterations, amendments, or additions, are neceſ⯑ſary, the conſtitution will point out the mode by which ſuch things ſhall be done, and not leave it to the diſcretionary power of the future govern⯑ment.

A government on the principles on which con⯑ſtitutional governments ariſing out of ſociety are eſtabliſhed, cannot have the right of altering itſelf. If it had, it would be arbitrary. It might make itſelf what it pleaſed; and wherever ſuch a right is ſet up, it ſhews there is no conſtitution. The act by which the Engliſh Parliament empowered itſelf to ſit ſeven years, ſhews there is no conſtitu⯑tion in England. It might, by the ſame ſelf-authority, have ſat any greater number of years, or for life. The Bill which the preſent Mr. Pitt brought into parliament ſome years ago, to reform parliament, was on the ſame erroneous principle. The right of reform is in the nation in its original character, and the conſtitutional method would be by a general convention elected for the purpoſe. There is, moreover, a paradox in the idea of vitia⯑ted bodies reforming themſelves.

From theſe preliminaries I proceed to draw ſome compariſons. I have already ſpoken of the [60] declaration of rights; and as I mean to be as con⯑ciſe as poſſible, I ſhall proceed to other parts of the French conſtitution.

The conſtitution of France ſays, That every man who pays a tax of ſixty ſous per annum, (2s. and 6d. Engliſh), is an elector.—What article will Mr. Burke place againſt this? Can any thing be more limited, and at the ſame time more capri⯑cious, than the qualifications of electors are in England? Limited—becauſe not one man in an hundred (I ſpeak much within compaſs) is admit⯑ted to vote: Capricious—becauſe the loweſt cha⯑racter that can be ſuppoſed to exiſt, and who has not ſo much as the viſible means of an honeſt live⯑lihood, is an elector in ſome places; while, in other places, the man who pays very large taxes, and has a known fair character, and the farmer who rents to the amount of three or four hundred pounds a year, with a property on that farm to three or four times that amount, is not admit⯑ted to be an elector. Every thing is out of nature, as Mr. Burke ſays on another occaſion, in this ſtrange chaos, and all ſorts of follies are blended with all ſorts of crimes. William the Conqueror and his deſcendants parcelled out the country in this manner, and bribed ſome parts of it by what they called Charters, to hold the other parts of it the better ſubjected to their will. This is the reaſon why ſo many of thoſe charters abound in Cornwall; the people were averſe to the government eſta⯑bliſhed at the Conqueſt, and the towns were garri⯑ſoned and bribed to enſlave the country. All the [61] old charters are the badges of this conqueſt, and it is from this ſource that the capriciouſneſs of elections ariſes.

The French conſtitution ſays, That the number of repreſentatives for any place ſhall be in a ratio to the number of taxable inhabitants or electors. What article will Mr. Burke place againſt this? The county of Yorkſhire, which contains near a million of ſouls, ſends two county members; and ſo does the county of Rutland, which contains not an hundredth part of that number. The town of old Sarum, which contains not three houſes, ſends two members; and the town of Mancheſter, which contains upwards of ſixty thouſand ſouls, is not ad⯑mitted to ſend any. Is there any principle in theſe things? Is there any thing by which you can trace the marks of freedom, or diſcover thoſe of wiſdom? No wonder, then, Mr. Burke has decli⯑ned the compariſon, and endeavoured to lead his readers from the point by a wild unſyſtematical diſplay of paradoxical rhapſodies.

The French conſtitution ſays, That the National Aſſembly ſhall be elected every two years.—What article will Mr. Burke place againſt this? Why, that the nation has no right at all in the caſe: that the government is perfectly arbitrary with reſpect to this point; and he can quote for his au⯑thority, the precedent of a former parliament.

The French conſtitution ſays, There ſhall be no game laws; that the farmer on whoſe lands wild game ſhall be found (for it is by the produce of his lands they are fed) ſhall have a right to what [62] he can take: That there ſhall be no monopolies of any kind—that all trade ſhall be free, and every man free to follow any occupation by which he can procure an honeſt livelihood, and in any place, town or city throughout the nation.—What will Mr. Burke ſay to this? In England, game is made the property of thoſe at whoſe expence it is not ſed; and with reſpect to monopolies, the country is cut up into monopolies. Every chartered town is an ariſtocratical monopoly in itſelf, and the qualification of electors proceeds out of thoſe char⯑tered monopolies. Is this freedom? Is this what Mr. Burke means by a conſtitution?

In theſe chartered monopolies, a man coming from another part of the country, is hunted from them as if he were a foreign enemy. An Engliſh⯑man is not free of his own country: every one of thoſe places preſents a barrier in his way, and tells him he is not a freeman—that he has no rights. Within theſe monopolies, are other monopolies. In a city, ſuch for inſtance as Bath, which contains between twenty and thirty thouſand inhabitants, the right of electing repreſentatives to parliament is monopoliſed by about thirty-one perſons. And within theſe monopolies are ſtill others. A man even of the ſame town, whoſe parents were not in circumſtances to give him an occupation, is debar⯑red, in many caſes, from the natural right of ac⯑quiring one, be his genius or induſtry what it may.

Are theſe things examples to hold out to a coun⯑try regenerating itſelf from ſlavery, like France?— Certainly they are not; and certain am I, that when [63] the people of England come to reflect upon them, they will, like France, annihilate thoſe badges of ancient oppreſſion, thoſe traces of a conquered na⯑tion.—Had Mr. Burke poſſeſſed talents ſimilar to the author "On the Wealth of Nations," he would have comprehended all the parts which enter into, and, by aſſemblage, form a conſtitution. He would have reaſoned from minutiae to magnitude. It is not from his prejudices only, but from the diſorderly caſt of his genius, that he is unfitted for the ſubject he writes upon. Even his genius is without a conſtitution. It is a genius at random, and not a genius conſtituted. But he muſt ſay ſomething—He has therefore mounted in the air like a balloon, to draw the eyes of the multitude from the ground they ſtand upon.

Much is to be learned from the French conſti⯑tution. Conqueſt and tyranny tranſplanted them⯑ſelves with William the Conqueror from Normandy into England, and the country is yet disfigured with the marks. May then the example of all France contribute to regenerate the freedom which a province of it deſtroyed!

The French conſtitution ſays, That to preſerve the national repreſentation from being corrupt, no member of the National Aſſembly ſhall be an officer of the government, a place-man, or a pen⯑ſioner.—What will Mr. Burke place againſt this? I will whiſper his anſwer: Loaves and fiſhes. Ah! this government of loaves and fiſhes has more miſ⯑chief in it than people have yet reflected on. The National Aſſembly has made the diſcovery, and it [64] holds out the example to the world. Had govern⯑ments agreed to quarrel on purpoſe to fleece their countries by taxes, they could not have ſucceeded better than they have done.

Many things in the Engliſh government appear to me the reverſe of what they ought to be, and of what they are ſaid to be. The Parliament, imper⯑fectly and capriciouſly elected as it is, is neverthe⯑leſs ſuppoſed to hold the national purſe in truſt for the nation: but in the manner in which an Engliſh parliament is conſtructed, it is like a man being both mortgager and mortgagee; and in the caſe of miſapplication of truſt, it is the criminal ſitting in judgment upon himſelf. If thoſe who vote the ſupplies are the ſame perſons who receive the ſup⯑plies when voted, and are to account for the expen⯑diture of thoſe ſupplies to thoſe who voted them, it is themſelves accountable to themſelves, and the Co⯑medy of Errors concludes with the Pantomine of HUSH. Neither the miniſterial party, nor the op⯑poſition, will touch upon this caſe. The national purſe is the common hack which each mounts up⯑on. It is like what the country people call, ‘Ride and tie—You ride a little way, and then I ^*.’— They order theſe things better in France.

The French conſtitution ſays, That the right of war and peace is in the nation. Where elſe ſhould it reſide, but in thoſe who are to pay the expence?

[65]In England, this right is ſaid to reſide in a meta⯑phor, ſhewn at the Tower for ſixpence or a ſhilling a-piece: So are the lions; and it would be a ſtep nearer to reaſon to ſay it reſided in them, for any inanimate metaphor is no more than a hat or a cap. We can all ſee the abſurdity of worſhipping Aaron's molten calf, or Nebuchadnezzar's golden image; but why do men continue to practiſe themſelves the abſurdities they deſpiſe in others?

It may with reaſon be ſaid, that in the manner the Engliſh nation is repreſented, it ſignifies not where this right reſides, whether in the Crown, or in the Parliament. War is the common harveſt of all thoſe who participate in the diviſion and ex⯑penditure of public money, in all countries. It is the art of conquering at home: the object of it is an increaſe of revenue; and as revenue cannot be increaſed without taxes, a pretence muſt be made for expenditures. In reviewing the hiſtory of the Engliſh government, its wars and its taxes, a by-ſtander, not blinded by prejudice, nor warped by intereſt, would declare, that taxes were not raiſed to carry on wars, but that wars were raiſed to carry on taxes.

Mr. Burke, as a Member of the Houſe of Com⯑mons, is a part of the Engliſh Government; and though he profeſſes himſelf an enemy to war, he abuſes the French Conſtitution, which ſeeks to ex⯑plode it. He holds up the Engliſh Government as a model in all its parts, to France; but he ſhould firſt know the remarks which the French make upon it. They contend, in favour of their own, [66] that the portion of liberty enjoyed in England, is juſt enough to enſlave a country by, more produc⯑tively than by deſpotiſm; and that as the real ob⯑ject of all deſpotiſm is revenue, a Government ſo formed obtains more than it could do either by di⯑rect deſpotiſm, or in a full ſtate of freedom, and is therefore, on the ground of intereſt, oppoſed to both. They account alſo for the readineſs which always appears in ſuch governments for engaging in wars, by remarking on the different motives which produce them. In deſpotic governments, wars are the effect of pride; but in thoſe govern⯑ments in which they become the means of taxation, they acquire thereby a more permanent promptitude.

The French Conſtitution, therefore, to provide againſt both theſe evils, has taken away the power of declaring war from kings and miniſters, and placed the right where the expence muſt fall.

When the queſtion on the right of war and peace was agitating in the National Aſſembly, the people of England appeared to be much in⯑tereſted in the event, and highly to applaud the deciſion.—As a principle, it applies as much to one country as to another. William the Con⯑querer, as a conqueror, held this power of war and peace in himſelf, and his deſcendants have ever ſince claimed it under him as a right.

Although Mr. Burke has aſſerted the right of the parliament at the Revolution to bind and con⯑troul the nation and poſterity for ever, he denies, at the ſame time, that the parliament or the na⯑tion had any right to alter what he calls the ſuc⯑ceſſion [67] of the crown, in any thing but in part, or by a ſort of modification. By his taking this ground, he throws the caſe back to the Norman Conqueſt; and by thus running a line of ſucceſſion ſpringing from William the Conqueror to the preſent day, he makes it neceſſary to enquire who and what William the Conqueror was, and where he came from; and into the origin, hiſtory, and nature of what are called perogatives. Every thing muſt have had a beginning, and the fog of time and antiquity ſhould be penetrated to diſ⯑cover it. Let then Mr. Burke bring forward his William of Normandy, for it is to this origin that his argument goes. It alſo unfortunately happens, in running this line of ſucceſſion, that another line, parallel thereto, preſents itſelf, which is, that if the ſucceſſion runs in the line of the con⯑queſt, the nation runs in the line of being con⯑quered, and it ought to reſcue itſelf from this reproach.

But it will perhaps be ſaid, that tho' the power of declaring war deſcends in the heritage of the conqueſt, it is held in check by the right of the parliament to with-hold the ſupplies. It will always happen, when a thing is originally wrong, that amendments do not make it right; and it often happens, that they do as much miſchief one way, as good the other: and ſuch is the caſe here; for if the one raſhly declares war as a matter of right, and the other peremptorily with-holds the ſupplies as a matter of right, the remedy becomes as bad, or worſe than the diſeaſe. The one forces [68] the nation to a combat, and the other ties its hands: but the more probable iſſue is, that the conteſt will end in a colluſion between the parties, and be made a ſcreen to both.

On this queſtion of war, three things are to be conſidered. Firſt, the right of declaring it: Secondly, the expence of ſupporting it: Thirdly, the mode of conducting it after it is declared. The French conſtitution places the right where the expence muſt fall, and this union can be only in the nation. The mode of conducting it after it is declared, it conſigns to the executive depart⯑ment.—Were this the caſe in all countries, we ſhould hear but little more of wars.

Before I proceed to conſider other parts of the French conſtitution, and by way of relieving the fatigue of argument, I will introduce an anecdote which I had from Dr. Frank⯑lin.—

While the Doctor reſided in France as mini⯑ſter from America during the war, he had nume⯑rous propoſals made to him by projectors of every country and of every kind, who wiſhed to go to the land that floweth with milk and honey, America; and among the reſt, there was one who offered himſelf to be King. He introduced his propoſal to the Doctor by letter, which is now in the hands of M. Beaumarchais, of Paris—ſtat⯑ing, firſt, that as the Americans had diſmiſſed or ſent away ^* their King, that they would want [69] another. Secondly, that himſelf was a Norman. Thirdly, that he was of a more ancient family than the Dukes of Normandy, and of a more honourable deſcent, his line having never been baſtardized. Fourthly, that there was already a precedent in England, of Kings coming out of Normandy: and on theſe grounds he reſted his offer, enjoining that the Doctor would forward it to America. But as the Doctor neither did this, nor yet ſent him an anſwer, the projector wrote a ſecond letter; in which he did not, it is true, threaten to go over and conquer America, but only with great dignity propoſed, that if his offer was not accepted, an acknowledg⯑ment of about £ 30,000 might be made to him for his generoſity!—Now, as all arguments reſpecting ſucceſſion muſt neceſſarily connect that ſucceſſion with ſome beginning, Mr. Burke's arguments on this ſubject go to ſhew, that there is no Engliſh origin of kings, and that they are deſcendants of the Norman line in right of the Conqueſt. It may, therefore, be of ſervice to his doctrine to make this ſtory known, and to inform him, that in caſe of that natural extinction to which all mortality is ſubject, Kings may again be had from Normandy, on more reaſonable terms than William the Conqueror; and conſe⯑quently, that the good people of England, at the Revolution of 1688, might have done much bet⯑ter, had ſuch a generous Norman as this known their wants, and they had known his. The chi⯑valry character which Mr. Burke ſo much ad⯑mires, [70] is certainly much eaſier to make a bargain with, than a hard-dealing Dutchman.—But, to return to the matters of the conſtitution—

The French conſtitution ſays, There ſhall be no titles; and of conſequence, all that claſs of equivocal generation, which in ſome countries is called "ariſtocracy," and in others "nobility," is done away, and the peer is exalted into MAN.

Titles are but nick-names, and every nick-name is a title. The thing is perfectly harmleſs in it⯑ſelf; but it marks a ſort of foppery in the human character, which degrades it. It reduces man into the diminutive of man in things which are great, and the counterfeit of woman in things which are little. It talks about its fine blue ribbon like a girl, and ſhews its new garter like a child. A certain writer of ſome antiquity, ſays, ‘When I was a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childiſh things.’

It is, properly, from the elevated mind of France, that the folly of titles has fallen. It has outgrown the baby-cloaths of Count and Duke, and breeched itſelf in manhood. France has not levelled; it has exalted. It has put down the dwarf, to ſet up the man. The punyiſm of a ſenſe⯑leſs word like Duke, or Count, or Earl, has ceaſed to pleaſe. Even thoſe who poſſeſſed them have diſowned the gibberiſh, and as they outgrew the rickets, have deſpiſed the rattle. The genuine mind of man, thirſting for its native home, ſoci⯑ety, contemns the gewgaws that ſeparate him [71] from it. Titles are like circles drawn by the ma⯑gician's wand, to contract the ſphere of man's felicity. He lives immured within the Baſtille of a word, and ſurveys at a diſtance the envied life of man.

Is it then any wonder that titles ſhould fall in France? Is it not a greater wonder they ſhould be kept up any-where? What are they? What is their worth, and "what is their amount?" When we think or ſpeak of a Judge or a General, we aſſociate with it the ideas of office and character; we think of gravity in the one, and bravery in the other: but when we uſe a word merely as a title, no ideas aſſociate with it. Through all the vocabulary of Adam, there is not ſuch an ani⯑mal as a Duke or a Count; neither can we connect any certain idea with the words. Whether they mean ſtrength or weakneſs, wiſdom or folly, a child or a man, or the rider or the horſe, is all equi⯑vocal. What reſpect then can be paid to that which deſcribes nothing, and which means noth⯑ing? Imagination has given figure and character to centaurs, ſatyrs, and down to all the fairy tribe; but titles baffle even the powers of fancy, and are a chimerical non-deſcript.

But this is not all.—If a whole country is diſ⯑poſed to hold them in contempt, all their value is gone, and none will own them. It is common opinion only that makes them any thing, or no⯑thing, or worſe than nothing. There is no occa⯑ſion to take titles away, for they take themſelves away when ſociety concurs to ridicule them. This [72] ſpecies of imaginary conſequence has viſibly de⯑clined in every part of Europe, and it haſtens to its exit as the world of reaſon continues to riſe. There was a time when the loweſt claſs of what are called nobility was more thought of than the higheſt is now, and when a man in armour riding throughout Chriſtendom in queſt of adventures was more ſtared at than a modern Duke. The world has ſeen this folly fall, and it has fallen by being laughed at, and the farce of titles will follow its fate.—The patriots of France have diſcovered in good time, that rank and dignity in ſociety muſt take a new ground. The old one has fallen through.—It muſt now take the ſubſtantial ground of character, inſtead of the chimerical ground of titles; and they have brought their titles to the altar, and made of them a burnt-offering to Reaſon.

If no miſchief had annexed itſelf to the folly of titles, they would not have been worth a ſerious and formal deſtruction, ſuch as the National Aſ⯑ſembly have decreed them: and this makes it neceſſary to enquire farther into the nature and character of ariſtocracy.

That, then, which is called ariſtocracy in ſome countries, and nobility in others, aroſe out of the governments founded upon conqueſt. It was origi⯑nally a military order, for the purpoſe of ſupporting military government, (for ſuch were all govern⯑ments founded in conqueſt); and to keep up a ſucceſſion of this order for the purpoſe for which it was eſtabliſhed, all the younger branches of thoſe [73] families were diſinherited, and the law of primoge⯑nitureſhip ſet up.

The nature and character of ariſtocracy ſhews it⯑ſelf to us in this law. It is a law againſt every law of nature, and Nature herſelf calls for its deſtruc⯑tion. Eſtabliſh family juſtice, and ariſtocracy falls. By the ariſtocratical law of primogenitureſhip, in a family of ſix children, five are expoſed. Ariſto⯑cracy has never more than one child. The reſt are begotten to be devoured. They are thrown to the cannibal for prey, and the natural parent prepares the unnatural repaſt.

As every thing which is out of nature in man, affects, more or leſs, the intereſt of ſociety, ſo does this. All the children which the ariſtocracy diſ⯑owns (which are all, except the eldeſt) are, in ge⯑neral, caſt like orphans on a pariſh, to be pro⯑vided for by the public, but at a greater charge.— Unneceſſary offices and places in governments and courts are created at the expence of the public, to maintain them.

With what kind of parental reflections can the father or mother contemplate their younger off⯑ſpring. By nature they are children, and by mar⯑riage they are heirs; but by ariſtocracy they are baſtards and orphans. They are the fleſh and blood of their parents in one line, and nothing akin to them in the other. To reſtore, therefore, parents to their children, and children to their pa⯑rents—relations to each other, and man to ſociety —and to exterminate the monſter Ariſtocracy, root and branch—the French conſtitution has deſtroyed [74] the law of PRIMOGENITURESHIP. Here then lies the monſter; and Mr. Burke, if he pleaſes, may write its epitaph.

Hitherto we have conſidered ariſtocracy chiefly in one point of view. We have now to conſider it in another. But whether we view it before or be⯑hind, or ſide-ways, or any way elſe, domeſtically or publicly, it is ſtill a monſter.

In France, ariſtocracy had one feature leſs in its countenance, than what it has in ſome other coun⯑tries. It did not compoſe a body of hereditary le⯑giſlators. It was not "a corporation of ariſtocracy," for ſuch I have heard M. de la Fayette deſcribe an Engliſh Houſe of Peers. Let us then examine the grounds upon which the French conſtitution has reſolved againſt having ſuch a Houſe in France.

Becauſe, in the firſt place, as is already men⯑tioned, ariſtocracy is kept up by family tyranny and injuſtice.

Secondly, Becauſe there is an unnatural unfit⯑neſs in an ariſtocracy to be legiſlators for a nation. Their ideas of diſtributive juſtice are corrupted at the very ſource. They begin life by trampling on all their younger brothers and ſiſters, and relations of every kind, and are taught and educated ſo to do. With what ideas of juſtice or honour can that man enter a houſe of legiſlation, who ab⯑ſorbs in his own perſon the inheritance of a whole family of children, or doles out to them ſome piti⯑ful portion with the inſolence of a gift?

Thirdly, Becauſe the idea of hereditary legiſla⯑tors is as inconſiſtent as that of hereditary judges, [75] or hereditary juries; and as abſurd as an hereditary mathematician, or an hereditary wiſe man; and as ridiculous as an hereditary poet-laureat.

Fourthly, Becauſe a body of men holding them⯑ſelves accountable to nobody, ought not to be truſted by any body.

Fifthly, Becauſe it is continuing the uncivilized principle of governments founded in conqueſt, and the baſe idea of man having property in man, and governing him by perſonal right.

Sixthly, Becauſe ariſtocracy has a tendency to degenerate the human ſpecies.—By the univerſal oeconomy of nature it is known, and by the in⯑ſtance of the Jews it is proved, that the human ſpe⯑cies has a tendency to degenerate, in any ſmall number of perſons, when ſeparated from the gene⯑ral ſtock of ſociety, and intermarrying conſtantly with each other. It defeats even its pretended end, and becomes in time the oppoſite of what is noble in man. Mr. Burke talks of nobility; let him ſhew what it is. The greateſt characters the world have known, have riſen on the democratic floor. Ariſt⯑ocracy has not been able to keep a proportionate pace with democracy. The artificial NOBLE ſhrinks into a dwarf before the NOBLE of Nature; and in the few inſtances of thoſe (for there are ſome in all countries) in whom nature, as by a miracle, has ſurvived in ariſtocracy, THOSE MEN DESPISE IT. —But it is time to proceed to a new ſubject.

The French conſtitution has reformed the con⯑dition of the clergy. It has raiſed the income of the lower and middle claſſes, and taken from [76] the higher. None is now leſs than twelve hun⯑dred livres (fifty pounds ſterling), nor any higher than about two or three thouſand pounds. What will Mr. Burke place againſt this? Hear what he ſays.

He ſays, ‘That the people of England can ſee without pain or grudging, an archbiſhop pre⯑cede a duke; they can ſee a biſhop of Durham, or a biſhop of Wincheſter, in poſſeſſion of £. 10,000 a-year; and cannot ſee why it is in worſe hands than eſtates to the like amount in the hands of this earl or that 'ſquire.’ And Mr. Burke offers this as an example to France.

As to the firſt part, whether the archbiſhop precedes the duke, or the duke the biſhop, it is, I believe, to the people in general, ſomewhat like Sternhold and Hopkins, or Hopkins and Stern⯑hold; you may put which you pleaſe firſt: and as I confeſs that I do not underſtand the merits of this caſe, I will not contend it with Mr. Burke.

But with reſpect to the latter, I have ſomething to ſay.—Mr. Burke has not put the caſe right.— The compariſon is out of order, by being put be⯑tween the biſhop and the earl or the 'ſquire. It ought to be put between the biſhop and the curate, and then it will ſtand thus: —The people of England can ſee without pain or grudging, a biſhop of Durham, or a biſhop of Wincheſter, in poſ⯑ſeſſion of ten thouſand pounds a-year, and a curate on thirty or forty pounds a-year, or leſs.—No, Sir, they certainly do not ſee thoſe things without [77] great pain or grudging. It is a caſe that applies itſelf to every man's ſenſe of juſtice, and is one among many that calls aloud for a conſtitution.

In France, the cry of "the church! the church!" was repeated as often as in Mr. Burke's book, and as loudly as when the diſſenters' bill was be⯑fore the Engliſh parliament; but the generality of the French clergy were not to be deceived by this cry any longer. They knew, that whatever the pretence might be, it was themſelves who were one of the principal objects of it. It was the cry of the high beneficed clergy, to prevent any regulation of income taking place between thoſe of ten thouſand pounds a-year and the pariſh prieſt. They, therefore, joined their caſe to thoſe of every other oppreſſed claſs of men, and by this union obtained redreſs.

The French conſtitution has aboliſhed tythes, that ſource of perpetual diſcontent between the tythe-holder and the pariſhioner. When land is held on tythe, it is in the condition of an eſtate held between two parties; the one receiving one-tenth, and the other nine-tenths of the produce: and, conſequently, on principles of equity, if the eſtate can be improved, and made to produce by that improvement double or treble what it did before, or in any other ratio, the expence of ſuch improvement ought to be borne in like propor⯑tion between the parties who are to ſhare the pro⯑duce. But this is not the caſe in tythes; the farmer bears the whole expence, and the tythe-holder takes a tenth of the improvement, in ad⯑dition [78] to the original tenth, and by this means gets the value of two-tenths inſtead of one. This is another caſe that calls for a conſtitution.

The French conſtitution hath aboliſhed or re⯑nounced Toleration, and Intolerance alſo, and hath eſtabliſhed UNIVERSAL RIGHT OF CONSCIENCE.

Toleration is not the oppoſite of Intolerance, but is the counterfeit of it. Both are deſpotiſms. The one aſſumes to itſelf the right of with-hold⯑ing Liberty of Conſcience, and the other of granting it. The one is the pope armed with fire and faggot, and the other is the pope ſelling or granting indulgencies. The former is church and ſtate, and the latter is church and traffic.

But Toleration may be viewed in a much ſtronger light. Man worſhips not himſelf, but his Maker; and the liberty of conſcience which he claims, is not for the ſervice of himſelf, but of his God. In this caſe, therefore, we muſt neceſſarily have the aſſociated idea of two beings; the mortal who renders the worſhip, and the IM⯑MORTAL BEING who is worſhipped. Toleration, therefore, places itſelf, not between man and man, nor between church and church, nor be⯑tween one denomination of religion and ano⯑ther, but between God and man; between the being who worſhips, and the BEING who is wor⯑ſhipped; and by the ſame act of aſſumed autho⯑rity by which it tolerates man to pay his worſhip, it preſumptuouſly and blaſphemouſly ſets itſelf up to tolerate the Almighty to receive it.

[79]Were a Bill brought into any parliament, in⯑titled ‘AN ACT to tolerate or grant liberty to the Almighty to receive the worſhip of a Jew or a Turk,’ or ‘to prohibit the Almighty from receiving it,’ all men would ſtartle, and call it blaſphemy. There would be an uproar. The preſumption of toleration in religious mat⯑ters would then preſent itſelf unmaſked: but the preſumption is not the leſs becauſe the name of "Man" only appears to thoſe laws, for the aſſociated idea of the worſhipper and the worſhip⯑ped cannot be ſeparated.—Who, then, art thou, vain duſt and aſhes! by whatever name thou art called, whether a King, a Biſhop, a Church or a State, a Parliament, or any thing elſe, that obtrudeſt thine inſignificance between the ſoul of man and its Maker? Mind thine own concerns. If he believes not as thou believeſt, it is a proof that thou believeſt not as he believeth, and there is no earthly power can determine between you.

With reſpect to what are called denominations of religion, if every one is left to judge of its own religion, there is no ſuch thing as a religion that is wrong; but if they are to judge of each others religion, there is no ſuch thing as a religion that is right; and therefore, all the world is right, or all the world is wrong. But with reſpect to religion itſelf, without regard to names, and as directing itſelf from the univerſal family of man⯑kind to the Divine object of all adoration, it is man bringing to his Maker the fruits of his heart; and though thoſe fruits may differ from each other [80] like the fruits of the earth, the grateful tribute of every one is accepted.

A Biſhop of Durham, or a Biſhop of Winche⯑ſter, or the Archbiſhop who heads the Dukes, will not refuſe a tythe-ſheaf of wheat, becauſe it is not a cock of hay; nor a cock of hay, becauſe it is not a ſheaf of wheat; nor a pig, becauſe it is neither one nor the other: but theſe ſame perſons, under the figure of an eſtabliſhed church, will not permit their Maker to receive the varied tythes of man's devotion.

One of the continual choruſes of Mr. Burke's book is, "Church and State." He does not mean ſome one particular church, or ſome one parti⯑cular ſtate, but any church and ſtate; and he uſes the term as a general figure to hold forth the po⯑litical doctrine of always uniting the church with the ſtate in every country, and he cenſures the National Aſſembly for not having done this in France.—Let us beſtow a few thoughts on this ſubject.

All religions are in their nature kind and be⯑nign, and united with principles of morality. They could not have made proſelites at firſt, by profeſſing any thing that was vicious, cruel, per⯑ſecuting, or immoral. Like every thing elſe, they had their beginning; and they proceeded by perſuaſion, exortation, and example. How then is it that they loſe their native mildneſs, and become moroſe and intolerent?

It proceeds from the connection which Mr. Burke recommends. By engendering the church [81] with the ſtate, a ſort of mule animal, capable only of deſtroying, and not of breeding up, is pro⯑duced, called The Church eſtabliſhed by Law. It is a ſtranger, even from its birth, to any parent mother on which it is begotten, and whom in time it kicks out and deſtroys.

The inquiſition in Spain does not proceed from the religion originally profeſſed, but from this mule-animal, engendered between the church and the ſtate. The burnings in Smithfield proceeded from the ſame heterogeneous production; and it was the regeneration of this ſtrange animal in England afterwards, that renewed rancour and ir⯑religion among the inhabitants, and that drove the people called Quakers and Diſſenters to America. Perſecution is not an original feature in any reli⯑gion; but it is always the ſtrongly-marked feature of all law-religions, or religions eſtabliſhed by law. Take away the law-eſtabliſhment, and every religion reaſſumes its original benignity. In Ame⯑rica, a Catholic Prieſt is a good citizen, a good character, and a good neighbour; an Epiſcopa⯑lian Miniſter is of the ſame deſcription: and this proceeds, independently of the men, from there being no law-eſtabliſhment in America.

If alſo we view this matter in a temporal ſenſe, we ſhall ſee the ill effects it has had on the proſ⯑perity of nations. The union of church and ſtate has impoveriſhed Spain. The revoking the edict of Nantes drove the ſilk manufacture from France into England; and church and ſtate are now driving the cotton manufacture from Eng⯑land [82] to America and France. Let then Mr. Burke continue to preach his antipolitical doc⯑trine of Church and State. It will do ſome good. The National Aſſembly will not follow his advice, but will benefit by his folly. It was by obſerving the ill effects of it in England, that America has been warned againſt it; and it is by experiencing them in France, that the National Aſſembly have aboliſhed it, and, like America, have eſtabliſhed UNIVERSAL RIGHT OF CONSCIENCE, AND UNI⯑VERSAL RIGHT OF CITIZENSHIP^*.

I will here ceaſe the compariſon with reſpect to the principles of the French conſtitution, and conclude this part of the ſubject with a few ob⯑ſervations on the organization of the formal parts of the French and Engliſh governments.

[83]The executive power in each country is in the hands of a perſon ſtiled the King; but the French conſtitution diſtinguiſhes between the King and the Sovereign: It conſiders the ſtation of King as official, and places Sovereignty in the nation.

The repreſentatives of the nation, who com⯑poſe the National Aſſembly, and who are the le⯑giſlative power, originate in and from the people by election, as an inherent right in the people.— In England it is otherwiſe; and this ariſes from the original eſtabliſhment of what is called its monarchy; for, as by the conqueſt all the rights of the people or the nation were abſorbed into the hands of the Conqueror, and who added the title of King to that of Conqueror, thoſe ſame matters which in France are now held as rights in the people, or in the nation, are held in Eng⯑land as grants from what is called the Crown. [84] The Parliament in England, in both its branches, was erected by patents from the deſcendants of the Conqueror. The Houſe of Commons did not originate as a matter of right in the people to de⯑legate or elect, but as a grant or boon.

By the French conſtitution, the Nation is always named before the King. The third article of the Declaration of rights ſays, "The nation is eſſential⯑ly the ſource (or fountain) of all ſovereignty." Mr. Burke argues, that, in England, a King is the fountain—that he is the fountain of all honour. But as this idea is evidently deſcended from the Conqueſt, I ſhall make no other remark upon it, than that it is the nature of conqueſt to turn every thing upſide down; and as Mr. Burke will not be refuſed the privilege of ſpeaking twice, and as there are but two parts in the figure, the fountain and the ſpout, he will be right the ſecond time.

The French conſtitution puts the legiſlative be⯑fore the executive; the Law before the King; La Loi, Le Roi. This alſo is in the natural order of things; becauſe laws muſt have exiſtence, be⯑fore they can have execution.

A King in France does not, in addreſſing him⯑ſelf to the National Aſſembly, ſay, "My aſſem⯑bly," ſimilar to the phraſe uſed in England of "my Parliament;" neither can he uſe it conſiſtently with the conſtitution, nor could it be admitted. There may be propriety in the uſe of it in Eng⯑land, becauſe, as is before mentioned, both Houſes of Parliament originated from what is called the Crown by patent or boon—and not from the [85] inherent rights of the people, as the National Aſſembly does in France, and whoſe name deſig⯑nates its origin.

The Preſident of the National Aſſembly does not aſk the King to grant to the Aſſembly liberty of ſpeech, as is the caſe with the Engliſh Houſe of Commons. The conſtitutional dignity of the National Aſſembly cannot debaſe itſelf. Speech is, in the firſt place, one of the natural rights of man always retained; and with reſpect to the Na⯑tional Aſſembly, the uſe of it is their duty, and the nation is their authority. They were elected by the greateſt body of men exerciſing the right of election the European world ever ſaw. They ſprung not from the filth of rotten boroughs, nor are they the vaſſal repreſentatives of ariſtocratical ones. Feeling the proper dignity of their cha⯑racter, they ſupport it. Their parliamentary lan⯑guage, whether for or againſt a queſtion, is free, bold, and manly, and extends to all the parts and circumſtances of the caſe. If any matter or ſub⯑ject reſpecting the executive department, or the perſon who preſides in it, (the King), comes be⯑fore them, it is debated on with the ſpirit of men, and the language of gentlemen; and their anſwer, or their addreſs, is returned in the ſame ſtile. They ſtand not aloof with the gaping vacuity of vulgar ignorance, nor bend with the cringe of ſycophantic inſignificance. The graceful pride of truth knows no extremes, and preſerves, in every latitude of life, the right-angled character of man.

[86]Let us now look to the other ſide of the queſ⯑tion.—In the addreſſes of the Engliſh Parliaments to their Kings, we ſee neither the intrepid ſpirit of the old Parliaments of France, nor the ſerene dignity of the preſent National Aſſembly; neither do we ſee in them any thing of the ſtile of Eng⯑liſh manners, which border ſomewhat on blunt⯑neſs. Since then they are neither of foreign ex⯑traction, nor naturally of Engliſh production, their origin muſt be ſought for elſewhere, and that ori⯑gin is the Norman Conqueſt. They are evidently of the vaſſalage claſs of manners, and emphati⯑cally mark the proſtrate diſtance that exiſts in no other condition of men than between the conquer⯑or and the conquered. That this vaſſalage idea and ſtile of ſpeaking was not got rid of even at the Revolution of 1688, is evident from the de⯑claration of Parliament to William and Mary, in theſe words: ‘We do moſt humbly and faith⯑fully ſubmit ourſelves, our heirs and poſterities, for ever.’ Submiſſion is wholly a vaſſalage term, requgnant to the dignity of Freedom, and an echo of the language uſed at the Conqueſt.

As the eſtimation of all things is by compariſon, the Revolution of 1688, however from circum⯑ſtances it may have been exalted beyond its va⯑lue, will find its level. It is already on the wane, eclipſed by the enlarging orb of reaſon, and the luminous revolutions of America and France. In leſs than another century, it will go, as well as Mr. Burke's labours, "to the family vault of all the Capulets." Mankind will then ſcarcely believe [87] that a country calling itſelf free, would ſend to Holland for a man, and clothe him with power, on purpoſe to put themſelves in fear of him, and give him almoſt a million ſterling a-year for leave to ſubmit themſelves and their poſterity, like bond-men and bond-women, for ever.

But there is a truth that ought to be made known: I have had the opportunity of ſeeing it; which is, that, notwithſtanding appearances, there is not any deſcription of men that deſpiſe monarchy ſo much as courtiers. But they well know, that if it were ſeen by others, as it is ſeen by them, the juggle could not be kept up. They are in the con⯑dition of men who get their living by a ſhow, and to whom the folly of that ſhow is ſo familiar that they ridicule it; but were the audience to be made as wiſe in this reſpect as themſelves, there would be an end to the ſhow and the profits with it. The difference between a republican and a cour⯑tier with reſpect to monarchy, is, that the one op⯑poſes monarchy, believing it to be ſomething; and the other laughs at it, knowing it to be nothing.

As I uſed ſometimes to correſpond with Mr. Burke, believing him then to be a man of ſounder principles than his book ſhews him to be, I wrote to him laſt winter from Paris, and gave him an account how proſperouſly matters were going on. Among other ſubjects in that letter, I referred to the happy ſituation the National Aſſembly were placed in; that they had taken a ground on which their moral duty and their political intereſt were united. They have not to hold out a language [88] which they do not themſelves believe, for the fraudulent purpoſe of making others believe it. Their ſtation requires no artifice to ſupport it, and can only be maintained by enlightening mankind. It is not their intereſt to cheriſh ignorance, but to diſpel it. They are not in the caſe of a miniſterial or an oppoſition party in England, who, though they are oppoſed, are ſtill united to keep up the common myſtery. The National Aſſembly muſt throw open a magazine of light. It muſt ſhew man the proper character of man; and the nearer it can bring him to that ſtandard, the ſtronger the National Aſſembly becomes.

In contemplating the French conſtitution, we ſee in it a rational order of things. The princi⯑ples harmoniſe with the forms, and both with their origin. It may perhaps be ſaid as an excuſe for bad forms, that they are nothing more than forms; but this is a miſtake. Forms grow out of principles, and operate to continue the prin⯑ciples they grow from. It is impoſſible to prac⯑tiſe a bad form on any thing but a bad principle. It cannot be ingrafted on a good one; and where⯑ever the forms in any government are bad, it is a certain indication that the principles are bad alſo.

I will here finally cloſe this ſubject. I began it by remarking that Mr. Burke had voluntarily de⯑clined going into a compariſon of the Engliſh and French conſtitutions. He apologiſes (in page 241) for not doing it, by ſaying that he had not time. Mr. Burke's book was upwards of eight months in hand, and is extended to a volume of [89] three hundred and ſixty-ſix pages. As his omiſ⯑ſion does injury to his cauſe, his apology makes it worſe; and men on the Engliſh ſide the water will begin to conſider, whether there is not ſome radical defect in what is called the Engliſh con⯑ſtitution, that made it neceſſary for Mr. Burke to ſuppreſs the compariſon, to avoid bringing it into view.

As Mr. Burke has not written on conſtitutions, ſo neither has he written on the French revolution. He gives no account of its commencement or its progreſs. He only expreſſes his wonder. "It looks," ſays he, ‘to me, as if I were in a great criſis, not of the affairs of France alone, but of all Europe, perhaps of more than Europe. All circumſtances taken together, the French revolution is the moſt aſtoniſhing that has hitherto happened in the world.’

As wiſe men are aſtoniſhed at fooliſh things, and other people at wiſe ones, I know not on which ground to account for Mr. Burke's aſto⯑niſhment; but certain it is, that he does not un⯑derſtand the French revolution. It has apparently burſt forth like a creation from a chaos, but it is no more than the conſequence of a mental revolu⯑tion priorily exiſting in France. The mind of the nation had changed before hand, and the new order of things has naturally followed the new order of thoughts.—I will here, as conciſely as I can, trace out the growth of the French revolu⯑tion, and mark the circumſtances that have con⯑tributed to produce it.

[90]The deſpotiſm of Louis XIV. united with the gaiety of his Court, and the gaudy oſtentation of his character, had ſo humbled, and at the ſame time ſo faſcinated the mind of France, that the people appeared to have loſt all ſenſe of their own dignity, in contemplating that of their grand Mo⯑narch: and the whole reign of Louis XV. re⯑markable only for weakneſs and effeminacy, made no other alteration than that of ſpreading a ſort of lethargy over the nation, from which it ſhewed no diſpoſition to riſe.

The only ſigns which appeared of the ſpirit of Liberty during thoſe periods, are to be found in the writings of the French philoſophers. Mon⯑teſquieu, preſident of the Parliament of Bour⯑deaux, went as far as a writer under a deſpotic government could well proceed; and being obliged to divide himſelf between principle and prudence, his mind often appears under a veil, and we ought to give him credit for more than he has expreſſed.

Voltaire, who was both the flatterer and the ſatiriſt of deſpotiſm, took another line. His forte lay in expoſing and ridiculing the ſuperſti⯑tions which prieſt-craft united with ſtate-craft had interwoven with governments. It was not from the purity of his principles, or his love of mankind, (for ſatire and philanthropy are not naturally concordant), but from his ſtrong capa⯑city of ſeeing folly in its true ſhape, and his ir⯑reſiſtible propenſity to expoſe it, that he made thoſe attacks. They were however as formida⯑ble [91] as if the motives had been virtuous; and he merits the thanks, rather than the eſteem of man⯑kind.

On the contrary, we find in the writings of Rouſſeau, and the Abbé Raynal, a lovelineſs of ſentiment in favour of Liberty, that excites re⯑ſpect, and elevates the human faculties; but having raiſed this animation, they do not direct its operations, and leave the mind in love with an object, without deſcribing the means of poſ⯑ſeſſing it.

The writings of Queſnay, Turgot, and the friends of thoſe authors, are of the ſerious kind; but they laboured under the ſame diſadvantage with Monteſquieu: their writings abound with moral maxims of government, but are rather directed to oeconomiſe and reform the adminiſtration of the government, than the government itſelf.

But all thoſe writings and many others had their weight; and by the different manner in which they treated the ſubject of government, Monteſquieu by his judgment and knowledge of laws, Voltaire by his wit, Rouſſeau and Ray⯑nal by their animation, and Queſnay and Turgot by their moral maxims and ſyſtems of oeconomy, readers of every claſs met with ſomething to their taſte, and a ſpirit of political enquiry began to diffuſe itſelf through the nation at the time the diſpute between England and the then colonies of America broke out.

In the war which France afterwards engaged in, it is very well known that the nation appeared [92] to be before hand with the French miniſtry. Each of them had its view: but thoſe views were di⯑rected to different objects; the one ſought liberty, and the other retaliation on England. The French officers and ſoldiers who after this went to Ame⯑rica, were eventually placed in the ſchool of Freedom, and learned the practice as well as the principles of it by heart.

As it was impoſſible to ſeparate the military events which took place in America from the principles of the American revolution, the pub⯑lication of thoſe events in France neceſſarily con⯑nected themſelves with the principles which pro⯑duced them. Many of the facts were in them⯑ſelves principles; ſuch as the declaration of American independence, and the treaty of alliance between France and America, which recogniſed the natural right of man, and juſtified reſiſtance to oppreſſion.

The then Miniſter of France, Count Vergennes, was not the friend of America; and it is both juſtice and gratitude to ſay, that it was the Queen of France who gave the cauſe of America a faſhion at the French Court. Count Vergennes was the perſonal and ſocial friend of Dr. Frank⯑lin; and the Doctor had obtained, by his ſenſible gracefulneſs, a ſort of influence over him; but with reſpect to principles, Count Vergennes was a deſpot.

The ſituation of Dr. Franklin as Miniſter from America to France, ſhould be taken into the [93] chain of circumſtances. The diplomatic cha⯑racter is of itſelf the narroweſt ſphere of ſociety that man can act in. It forbids intercourſe by a reciprocity of ſuſpicion; and a diplomatic is a ſort of unconnected atom, continually repelling and repelled. But this was not the caſe with Dr. Franklin. He was not the diplomatic of a Court, but of MAN. His character as a philoſopher had been long eſtabliſhed, and his circle of ſociety in France was univerſal.

Count Vergennes reſiſted for a conſiderable time the publication in France of the American conſtitutions, tranſlated into the French language; but even in this he was obliged to give way to public opinion, and a ſort of propriety in admit⯑ting to appear what he had undertaken to defend. The American conſtitutions were to liberty, what a grammar is to language: they define its parts of ſpeech, and practically conſtruct them into ſyntax.

The peculiar ſituation of the then Marquis de la Fayette is another link in the great chain. He ſerved in America as an American officer un⯑der a commiſſion of Congreſs, and by the univer⯑ſality of his acquaintance, was in cloſe friendſhip with the civil government of America, as well as with the military line. He ſpoke the language of the country, entered into the diſcuſſions on the principles of government, and was always a wel⯑come friend at any election.

When the war cloſed, a vaſt reinforcement to the cauſe of Liberty ſpread itſelf over France, by [94] the return of the French officers and ſoldiers. A knowledge of the practice was then joined to the theory; and all that was wanting to give it real exiſtence, was opportunity. Man cannot, pro⯑perly ſpeaking, make circumſtances for his pur⯑poſe, but he always has it in his power to improve them when they occur; and this was the caſe in France.

M. Neckar was diſplaced in May 1781; and by the ill management of the finances afterwards, and particularly during the extravagant admini⯑ſtration of M. Calonne, the revenue of France, which was nearly twenty-four millions ſterling per year, was become unequal to the expenditure, not becauſe the revenue had decreaſed, but becauſe the expences had increaſed; and this was the cir⯑cumſtance which the nation laid hold of to bring forward a revolution. The Engliſh Miniſter, Mr. Pitt, has frequently alluded to the ſtate of the French finances in his budgets, without un⯑derſtanding the ſubject. Had the French Parlia⯑ments been as ready to regiſter edicts for new taxes, as an Engliſh Parliament is to grant them, there had been no derangement in the finances, nor yet any revolution; but this will better ex⯑plain itſelf as I proceed.

It will be neceſſary here to ſhew how taxes were formerly raiſed in France. The King, or rather the Court or Miniſtry acting under the uſe of that name, framed the edicts for taxes at their own diſcretion, and ſent them to the Parliaments to be regiſtered; for until they were regiſtered [95] by the Parliaments, they were not operative. Diſ⯑putes had long exiſted between the Court and the Parliaments with reſpect to the extent of the Par⯑liament's authority on this head. The Court inſiſted that the authority of Parliaments went no farther than to remonſtrate or ſhew reaſons againſt the tax, reſerving to itſelf the right of determining whether the reaſons were well or ill-founded; and in conſequence thereof, either to withdraw the edict as a matter of choice, or to order it to be enregiſtered as a matter of authority. The Par⯑liaments on their part inſiſted, that they had not only a right to remonſtrate, but to reject; and on this ground they were always ſupported by the Nation.

But, to return to the order of my narrative— M. Calonne wanted money; and as he knew the ſturdy diſpoſition of the Parliaments with reſpect to new taxes, he ingeniouſly ſought either to approach them by a more gentle means than that of direct authority, or to get over their heads by a manoeuvre: and, for this purpoſe, he revived the project of aſſembling a body of men from the ſeveral provinces, under the ſtile of an "Aſſem⯑bly of the Notables," or Men of Note, who met in 1787, and who were either to recommend taxes to the Parliaments, or to act as a Parlia⯑ment themſelves. An Aſſembly under this name had been called in 1617.

As we are to view this as the firſt practical ſtep towards the revolution, it will be proper to enter into ſome particulars reſpecting it. The Aſſem⯑bly [96] of the Notables has in ſome places been miſ⯑taken for the States-General, but was wholly a different body; the States-General being always by election. The perſons who compoſed the Aſ⯑ſembly of the Notables were all nominated by the King, and conſiſted of one hundred and forty members. But as M. Calonne could not depend upon a majority of this Aſſembly in his favour, he very ingeniouſly arranged them in ſuch a man⯑ner as to make forty-four a majority of one hun⯑dred and forty: to effect this, he diſpoſed of them into ſeven ſeparate committees, of twenty mem⯑bers each. Every general queſtion was to be decided, not by a majority of perſons, but by a majority of committees; and as eleven votes would make a majority in a committee, and four committees a majority of ſeven, M. Calonne had good reaſon to conclude, that as forty-four would determine any general queſtion, he could not be out-voted. But all his plans deceived him, and in the event became his overthrow.

The then Marquis de la Fayette was placed in the ſecond committee, of which Count D'Artois was preſident: and as money-matters was the object, it naturally brought into view every cir⯑cumſtance connected with it. M. de la Fayette made a verbal charge againſt Calonne, for ſelling crown-lands to the amount of two millions of livres, in a manner that appeared to be unknown to the King. The Count D'Artois (as if to inti⯑midate, for the Baſtille was then in being) aſked the Marquis, if he would render the charge in [97] writing? He replied, that he would.—The Count D'Artois did not demand it, but brought a meſſage from the King to that purport. M. de la Fayette then delivered in his charge in writing, to be given to the King, undertak⯑ing to ſupport it. No farther proceedings were had upon this affair; but M. Calonne was ſoon after diſmiſſed by the King, and ſet off to England.

As M. de la Fayette, from the experience of what he had ſeen in America, was better ac⯑quainted with the ſcience of civil government than the generality of the members who com⯑poſed the Aſſembly of the Notables could then be, the brunt of the buſineſs fell conſiderably to his ſhare. The plan of thoſe who had a conſtitu⯑tion in view, was to contend with the Court on the ground of taxes, and ſome of them openly profeſſed their object. Diſputes frequently aroſe between Count D'Artois and M. de la Fayette, upon various ſubjects. With reſpect to the ar⯑rears already incurred, the latter propoſed to remedy them, by accommodating the expences to the revenue, inſtead of the revenue to the expences; and as objects of reform, he pro⯑poſed to aboliſh the Baſtille, and all the State-priſons throughout the nation, (the keeping of which was attended with great expence), and to ſuppreſs Lettres de Cachet: But thoſe matters were not then much attended to; and with reſpect to Lettres de Cachet, a majority of the Nobles appeared to be in favour of them.

[98]On the ſubject of ſupplying the Treaſury by new taxes, the Aſſembly declined taking the matter on themſelves, concurring in the opini⯑on that they had not authority. In a debate on this ſubject, M. de la Fayette ſaid, that raiſing money by taxes could only be done by a Na⯑tional Aſſembly, freely elected by the people, and acting as their repreſentatives. Do you mean, ſaid the Count D'Artois, the States Ge⯑neral? M. de la Fayette replied, that he did. Will you, ſaid the Count D'Artois, ſign what you ſay, to be given to the King? The other replied, that he not only would do this, but that he would go farther, and ſay, that the effectual mode would be, for the King to agree to the eſtabliſhment of a Conſtitution.

As one of the plans had thus failed, that of getting the Aſſembly to act as a Praliament, the other came into view, that of recom⯑mending. On this ſubject, the Aſſembly agreed to recommend two new taxes to be enregiſtered by the Parliament: The one a ſtamp-tax, and the other a territorial tax, or ſort of land-tax. The two have been eſtimated at about five millions ſterl. per ann. We have now to turn our atten⯑tion to the Parliaments, on whom the buſineſs was again devolving.

The Archbiſhop of Thoulouſe (ſince Arch⯑biſhop of Sens, and now a Cardinal) was ap⯑pointed to the adminiſtration of the finances, ſoon after the diſmiſſion of Calonne. He was alſo made Prime Miniſter, an office that did not [99] always exiſt in France. When this office did not exiſt, the Chief of each of the principal de⯑partments tranſacted buſineſs immediately with the King; but when a Prime Miniſter was ap⯑pointed, they did buſineſs only with him. The Archbiſhop arrived to more State-authority than any Miniſter ſince the Duke de Choiſeul, and the nation was ſtrongly diſpoſed in his fa⯑vour; but by a line of conduct ſcarcely to be accounted for, he perverted every opportunity, turned out a deſpot, and ſunk into diſgrace, and a Cardinal.

The Aſſembly of the Notables having broken up, the new Miniſter ſent the edicts for the two new taxes recommended by the Aſſembly to the Parliaments, to be enregiſtered. They of courſe came firſt before the parliament of Paris, who returned for anſwer, That with ſuch a reve⯑nue as the Nation then ſupported, the name of taxes ought not to be mentioned, but for the purpoſe of reducing them; and threw both the edicts out ^*.

On this refuſal, the Parliament was ordered to Verſailles, where, in the uſual form, the King held, what under the old government was called, a Bed of Juſtice; and the two edicts were enregiſtered in preſence of the Parliament, by an order of State, in the manner mentioned in page 94. On this, the Parliament immedi⯑ately returned to Paris, renewed their ſeſſion in [100] form, and ordered the enregiſtering to be ſtruck out, declaring that every thing done at Ver⯑ſailles was illegal. All the members of the Parliament were then ſerved with Lettres de Cachet, and exiled to Trois; but as they con⯑tinued as inflexible in exile as before, and as vengeance did not ſupply the place of taxes, they were after a ſhort time recalled to Paris.

The edicts were again tendered to them, and the Count D'Artois undertook to act as repre⯑ſentative of the King. For this purpoſe, he came from Verſailles to Paris, in a train of pro⯑ceſſion; and the Parliament were aſſembled to receive him. But ſhow and parade had loſt their influence in France; and whatever ideas of im⯑portance he might ſet off with, he had to return with thoſe of mortification and diſappointment. On alighting from his carriage to aſcend the ſteps of the Parliament Houſe, the crowd (which was numerouſly collected) threw out trite expreſſions, ſaying ‘This is Monſieur D'Artois, who wants more of our money to ſpend.’ The marked diſapprobation which he ſaw, impreſſed him with apprehenſions; and the word Aux armes! (To arms!) was given out by the officer of the guard who attended him. It was ſo loudly vociferated, that it echoed through the avenues of the Houſe, and produced a temporary confuſion: I was then ſtanding in one of the apartments through which he had to paſs, and could not avoid re⯑flecting [101] how wretched was the condition of a diſreſpected man.

He endeavoured to impreſs the Parliament by great words, and opened his authority by ſaying, "The King, our Lord and Maſter." The Parliament received him very coolly, and with their uſual determination not to regiſter the taxes: and in this manner the interview ended.

After this a new ſubject took place: In the various debates and conteſts which aroſe between the Court and the Parliaments on the ſubject of taxes, the Parliament of Paris at laſt de⯑clared, that although it had been cuſtomary for Parliaments to enregiſter edicts for taxes as a matter of convenience, the right belonged on⯑ly to the States-General; and that, therefore, the Parliament could no longer with propriety continue to debate on what it had not authority to act. The King after this came to Paris, and held a meeting with the Parliament, in which he continued from ten in the morning till about ſix in the evening; and, in a manner that ap⯑peared to proceed from him, as if unconſulted upon with the cabinet or the miniſtry, gave his word to the Parliament, that the States-General ſhould be convened.

But after this another ſcene aroſe, on a ground different from all the former. The miniſter and the cabinet were averſe to calling the States-General: They well knew, that if the States-General were aſſembled, themſelves muſt [102] fall; and as the King had not mentioned any time, they hit on a project calculated to elude, without appearing to oppoſe.

For this purpoſe, the Court ſet about making a ſort of conſtitution itſelf: It was principally the work of M. Lamoignon, Keeper of the Seals, who afterwards ſhot himſelf. This new arrangement conſiſted in eſtabliſhing a body un⯑der the name of a Cour pléniere, or full Court, in which were inveſted all the powers that the government might have occaſion to make uſe of. The perſons compoſing this Court were to be nominated by the King; the contended right of taxation was given up on the part of the King, and a new criminal code of laws, and law proceedings, was ſubſtituted in the room of the former. The thing, in many points, contained better principles than thoſe upon which the government had hitherto been ad⯑miniſtered: but with reſpect to the Cour pléniere, it was no other than a medium through which deſpotiſm was to paſs, without appearing to act directly from itſelf.

The Cabinet had high expectations from their new contrivance. The perſons who were to compoſe the Cour pléniere, were already nomi⯑nated; and as it was neceſſary to carry a fair appearance, many of the beſt characters in the the nation were appointed among the number. It was to commence on the 8th of May 1788: But an oppoſition aroſe to it, on two grounds— the one as to principle, the other as to form.

[103]On the ground of Principle it was contended, That government had not a right to alter itſelf; and that if the practice was once admitted, it would grow into a principle, and be made a precedent for any future alterations the govern⯑ment might wiſh to eſtabliſh: That the right of altering the government was a national right, and not a right of government.—And on the ground of Form, it was contended, That the Cour pléniere was nothing more than a larger Cabinet.

The then Duke de la Rochefoucault, Lux⯑embourg, De Noailles, and many others, re⯑fuſed to accept the nomination, and ſtrenuouſly oppoſed the whole plan. When the edict for eſtabliſhing this new Court was ſent to the Parliaments to be enregiſtered, and put into execution, they reſiſted alſo. The Parliament of Paris not only refuſed, but denied the au⯑thority; and the conteſt renewed itſelf between the Parliament and the Cabinet more ſtrongly than ever. While the Parliament were ſitting in debate on this ſubject, the Miniſtry ordered a regiment of ſoldiers to ſurround the Houſe, and form a blockade. The Members ſent out for beds and proviſion, and lived as in a beſieged citadel: and as this had no effect, the com⯑manding officer was ordered to enter the Parlia⯑ment houſe and ſeize them; which he did, and ſome of the principal members were ſhut up in different priſons. About the ſame time a de⯑putation of perſons arrived from the province [104] of Brittany, to remonſtrate againſt the eſtabliſh⯑ment of the Cour pléniere; and thoſe the Arch⯑biſhop ſent to the Baſtille. But the ſpirit of the Nation was not to be overcome; and it was ſo ful⯑ly ſenſible of the ſtrong ground it had taken, that of withholding taxes, that it contented itſelf with keeping up a ſort of quiet reſiſtance, which effectually overthrew all the plans at that time formed againſt it. The project of the Cour plé⯑niere was at laſt obliged to be given up, and the Prime Miniſter not long afterwards followed its fate; and M. Neckar was recalled into office.

The attempt to eſtabliſh the Cour pléniere had an effect upon the Nation which itſelf did not perceive. It was a ſort of new form of govern⯑ment, that inſenſibly ſerved to put the old one out of ſight, and to unhinge it from the ſuper⯑ſtitious authority of antiquity. It was govern⯑ment dethroning government; and the old one, by attempting to make a new one, made a chaſm.

The failure of this ſcheme renewed the ſubject of convening the States-General; and this gave riſe to a new ſeries of politics. There was no ſettled form for convening the States-General: all that it poſitively meant, was a deputation from what was then called the Clergy, the Nobleſſe, and the Commons; but their num⯑bers, or their proportions, had not been always the ſame. They had been convened only on extraordinary occaſions, the laſt of which was [105] in 1614; their numbers were then in equal proportions, and they voted by orders.

It could not well eſcape the ſagacity of M. Neckar, that the mode of 1614 would anſwer neither the purpoſe of the then government, nor of the nation. As matters were at that time circumſtanced, it would have been too contentious to agree upon any thing. The de⯑bates would have been endleſs upon privileges and exemptions, in which neither the wants of the government, nor the wiſhes of the nation for a conſtitution, would have been attended to. But as he did not chuſe to take the deciſion upon himſelf, he ſummoned again the Aſſembly of the Notables, and referred it to them. This body was in general intereſted in the deciſion, being chiefly of the ariſtocracy and the high-paid clergy; and they decided in favour of the mode of 1614. This deciſion was againſt the ſenſe of the Nation, and alſo againſt the wiſhes of the Court; for the ariſtocracy oppoſed itſelf to both, and contended for privileges inde⯑pendent of either. The ſubject was then taken up by the Parliament, who recommended, that the number of the Commons ſhould be equal to the other two; and that they ſhould all ſit in one houſe, and vote in one body. The num⯑ber finally determined on was twelve hundred: ſix hundred to be choſen by the Commons, (and this was leſs than their proportion ought to have been when their worth and conſequence is con⯑ſidered on a national ſcale), three hundred by [106] the Clergy, and three hundred by the Ariſto⯑cracy; but with reſpect to the mode of aſſem⯑bling themſelves, whether together or apart, or the manner in which they ſhould vote, thoſe matters were referred ^*.

The election that followed, was not a con⯑teſted election, but an animated one. The candidates were not men, but principles. So⯑cieties were formed in Paris, and committees of [107] correſpondence and communication eſtabliſh⯑ed throughout the nation, for the purpoſe of enlightening the people, and explaining to them the principles of civil government; and ſo or⯑derly was the election conducted, that it did not give riſe even to the rumour of tumult.

The States-General were to meet at Ver⯑ſailles in April 1789, but did not aſſemble till May. They ſituated themſelves in three ſepa⯑rate chambers, or rather the Clergy and the Ariſtocracy withdrew each into a ſeparate cham⯑ber. The majority of the ariſtocracy claimed what they called the privilege of voting as a ſeparate body, and of giving their conſent or their negative in that manner; and many of the biſhops and the high-beneficed clergy claimed the ſame privilege on the part of their Order.

The Tiers Etat (as they were then called) diſowned any knowledge of artificial Orders and artificial privileges; and they were not only re⯑ſolute on this point, but ſomewhat diſdainful. They began to conſider ariſtocracy as a kind of fungus growing out of the corruption of ſociety, that could not be admitted even as a branch of it; and from the diſpoſition the ariſtocracy had ſhewn by upholding Lettres de Cachet, and in ſundry other inſtances, it was manifeſt that no conſtitution could be formed by admitting men in any other character than as National Men.

After various altercations on this head, the Tiers Etat or Commons (as they were then called) declared themſelves (on a motion made [108] for that purpoſe by the Abbé Sieyes) "THE REPRESENTATIVES OF THE NATION; and that ‘the two Orders could be conſidered but as depu⯑ties of corporations, and could only have a de⯑liberative voice when they aſſembled in a national character with the national repreſenta⯑tives.’ This proceeding extinguiſhed the ſtile of Etats Généraux, or States-General, and erected it into the ſtile it now bears, that of L'Aſſemble Nationale, or National Aſſembly.

This motion was not made in a precipitate manner: It was the reſult of cool deliberation, and concerted between the national repreſen⯑tatives and the patriotic members of the two chambers, who ſaw into the folly, miſchief, and injuſtice of artificial privileged diſtinctions. It was become evident, that no conſtitution, wor⯑thy of being called by that name, could be eſtabliſhed on any thing leſs than a national ground. The ariſtocracy had hitherto oppoſed the deſpotiſm of the Court, and affected the language of patriotiſm; but it oppoſed it as its rival (as the Engliſh Barons oppoſed King John), and it now oppoſed the nation from the ſame motives.

On carrying this motion, the national repre⯑ſentatives, as had been concerted, ſent an invi⯑tation to the two chambers, to unite with them in a national character, and proceed to buſineſs. A majority of the clergy, chiefly of the pariſh prieſts, withdrew from the clerical chamber, and joined the nation; and forty-five from the [109] other chamber joined in like manner. There is a ſort of ſecret hiſtory belonging to this laſt circumſtance, which is neceſſary to its explana⯑tion: It was not judged prudent that all the pa⯑triotic members of the chamber ſtiling itſelf the Nobles, ſhould quit it at once; and in con⯑ſequence of this arrangement, they drew off by degrees, always leaving ſome, as well to reaſon the caſe, as to watch the ſuſpected. In a little time, the numbers increaſed from forty-five to eighty, and ſoon after to a greater number; which, with a majority of the clergy, and the whole of the national repreſentatives, put the mal-contents in a very diminutive condition.

The King, who, very different from the gene⯑ral claſs called by that name, is a man of a good heart, ſhewed himſelf diſpoſed to recommend an union of the three chambers, on the ground the National Aſſembly had taken; but the mal-contents exerted themſelves to prevent it, and began now to have another project in view. Their numbers conſiſted of a majority of the ariſtocratical chamber, and a minority of the clerical chamber, chiefly of biſhops and high-beneficed clergy; and theſe men were deter⯑mined to put every thing to iſſue, as well by ſtrength as by ſtratagem. They had no ob⯑jection to a conſtitution; but it muſt be ſuch a one as themſelves ſhould dictate, and ſuited to their own views and particular ſituations. On the other hand, the Nation diſowned know⯑ing any thing of them but as citizens, and was [110] determined to ſhut out all ſuch up-ſtart preten⯑ſions. The more ariſtocracy appeared, the more it was deſpiſed; there was a viſible imbecillity and want of intellects in the majority, a ſort of je ne ſais quoi, that while it affected to be more than citizen, was leſs than man. It loſt ground from contempt more than from hatred; and was rather jeered at as an aſs, than dreaded as a lion. This is the general character of ariſto⯑cracy, or what are called Nobles or Nobility, or rather No-ability, in all countries.

The plan of the mal contents conſiſted now of two things; either to deliberate and vote by chambers, (or orders), more eſpecially on all queſtions reſpecting a conſtitution, (by which the ariſtocratical chamber would have had a ne⯑gative on any article of the conſtitution); or, in caſe they could not accompliſh this object, to overthrow the National Aſſembly entirely.

To effect one or other of theſe objects, they began now to cultivate a friendſhip with the deſpotiſm they had hitherto attempted to rival, and the Count D'Artois became their chief. The King (who has ſince declared himſelf de⯑ceived into their meaſures) held, according to the old form, a Bed of Juſtice, in which he ac⯑corded to the deliberation and vote par tete (by head) upon ſeveral ſubjects; but reſerved the deliberation and vote upon all queſtions re⯑ſpecting a conſtitution, to the three chambers ſeparately. This declaration of the King was made againſt the advice of M. Neckar, who [111] now began to perceive that he was growing out of faſhion at Court, and that another mini⯑niſter was in contemplation.

As the form of ſitting in ſeparate chambers was yet apparently kept up, though eſſentially deſtroyed, the national repreſentatives, imme⯑diately after this declaration of the King, re⯑ſorted to their own chambers to conſult on a proteſt againſt it; and the minority of the chamber (calling itſelf the Nobles), who had joined the national cauſe, retired to a private houſe to conſult in like manner. The mal⯑contents had by this time concerted their mea⯑ſures with the Court, which Count D'Artois undertook to conduct; and as they ſaw from the diſcontent which the declaration excited, and the oppoſition making againſt it, that they could not obtain a controul over the intended conſtitution by a ſeparate vote, they prepared themſelves for their final object—that of con⯑ſpiring againſt the National Aſſembly, and overthrowing it.

The next morning, the door of the chamber of the National Aſſembly was ſhut againſt them, and guarded by troops; and the Mem⯑bers were refuſed admittance. On this, they withdrew to a tennis-ground in the neighbour⯑hood of Verſailles, as the moſt convenient place they could find, and, after renewing their ſeſſion, took an oath never to ſeparate from each other, under any circumſtance whatever, death excepted, until they had eſtabliſhed a [112] conſtitution. As the experiment of ſhutting up the houſe had no other effect than that of pro⯑ducing a cloſer connection in the Members, it was opened again the next day, and the pub⯑lic buſineſs recommenced in the uſual place.

We now are to have in view the forming of the new Miniſtry, which was to accompliſh the overthrow of the National Aſſembly. But as force would be neceſſary, orders were iſſued to aſſemble thirty thouſand troops, the command of which was given to Broglio, one of the new-intended Miniſtry, who was recalled from the country for this purpoſe. But as ſome manage⯑ment was neceſſary to keep this plan concealed till the moment it ſhould be ready for execution, it is to this policy that a declaration made by Count D'Artois muſt be attributed, and which is here proper to be introduced.

It could not but occur, that while the mal⯑contents continued to reſort to their chambers ſeparate from the National Aſſembly, that more jealouſy would be excited than if they were mixed with it, and that the plot might be ſuſ⯑pected. But as they had taken their ground, and now wanted a pretence for quitting it, it was neceſſary that one ſhould be deviſed. This was effectually accompliſhed by a declaration made by Count D'Artois, ‘That if they took not a part in the National Aſſembly, the life of the King would be endangered:’ on which they quitted their chambers, and mixed with the Aſſembly in one body.

[113]At the time this declaration was made, it was generally treated as a piece of abſurdity in Count D'Artois, and calculated merely to re⯑lieve the outſtanding Members of the two chambers from the diminutive ſituation they were put in; and if nothing more had followed, this concluſion would have been good. But as things beſt explain themſelves by their events, this apparent union was only a cover to the machi⯑nations which were ſecretly going on; and the declaration accommodated itſelf to anſwer that purpoſe. In a little time the National Aſſembly found itſelf ſurrounded by troops, and thouſands more were daily arriving. On this a very ſtrong declaration was made by the National Aſſembly to the King, remonſtrating on the impropriety of the meaſure, and demanding the reaſon. The King, who was not in the ſecret of this buſineſs, as himſelf afterwards declared, gave ſubſtantially for anſwer, that he had no other object in view than to preſerve the public tranquillity, which appeared to be much diſ⯑turbed.

But in a few days from this time, the plot unravelled itſelf. M. Neckar and the Miniſtry were diſplaced, and a new one formed, of the enemies of the Revolution; and Broglio, with between twenty-five and thirty thouſand foreign troops, was arrived to ſupport them. The maſk was now thrown off, and matters were come to a criſis. The event was, that in the [114] ſpace of three days, the new Miniſtry and their abettors found it prudent to fly the nation; the Baſtille was taken, and Broglio and his foreign troops diſperſed; as is already related in the former part of this work.

There are ſome curious circumſtances in the hiſtory of this ſhort-lived miniſtry, and this ſhort-lived attempt at a counter-revolution. The palace of Verſailles, where the Court was ſitting, was not more than four hundred yards diſtant from the hall where the National Aſſem⯑bly was ſitting. The two places were at this moment like the ſeparate head-quarters of two combatant armies; yet the Court was as perfectly ignorant of the information which had arrived from Paris to the National Aſſembly, as if it had reſided at an hundred miles diſtance. The then Marquis de la Fayette, who (as has been already mentioned) was choſen to pre⯑ſide in the National Aſſembly on this particu⯑lar occaſion, named, by order of the Aſſembly, three ſucceſſive deputations to the King, on the day, and up to the evening on which the Baſtille was taken, to inform and confer with him on the ſtate of affairs: but the miniſtry, who knew not ſo much as that it was attacked, pre⯑cluded all communication, and were ſolacing themſelves how dextrouſly they had ſucceeded; but in a few hours the accounts arrived ſo thick and faſt, that they had to ſtart from their deſks and run. Some ſet off in one diſguiſe, and ſome [115] in another, and none in their own character. Their anxiety now was to outride the news leſt they ſhould be ſtopt, which, though it flew faſt, flew not ſo faſt as themſelves.

It is worth remarking, that the National Aſ⯑ſembly neither purſued thoſe fugitive conſpira⯑tors, nor took any notice of them, nor ſought to retaliate in any ſhape whatever. Occupied with eſtabliſhing a conſtitution founded on the Rights of Man and the Authority of the People, the only authority on which Government has a right to exiſt in any country, the National Aſ⯑ſembly felt none of thoſe mean paſſions which mark the character of impertinent governments, founding themſelves on their own authority, or on the abſurdity of hereditary ſucceſſion. It is the faculty of the human mind to become what it contemplates, and to act in uniſon with its object.

The conſpiracy being thus diſperſed, one of the firſt works of the National Aſſembly, inſtead of vindictive proclamations, as has been the caſe with other governments, publiſhed a Declaration of the Rights of Man, as the baſis on which the new conſtitution was to be built, and which is here ſubjoined: