YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

MEMOIRS

OF

THE LIFE

SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY,

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF;

WITH A -SELECTION FROM

HIS CORRESPONDENCE.

EDITED BY HIS SONS.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

JS>«0tttr eRftttmi.

LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
MDCCCXL.

PREFACE.

The publication ofthe " Memoirs of Sir Samuel
Romilly edited by his Sons" requires some ex
planation of what is included under this title, and
of the motives which have led to this undertaking.
From the great mass of papers left by Sir S.
Romilly, those have been selected which furnish, in
some measure, a connected history of his life. They
begin with a narrative, in two parts, of the events
of his* earliest years, from 1757 to the close of
1789. The former of these bears date 1796, two
years previous to his marriage : it appears to have
been carefully revised and corrected, and a fair
copy was made of it, of which no other instance
is to be found amongst these papers. The latter
part, dated in 1813, seems to have been more
hastily written ; the rough draft, consisting of loose
sheets, is the only copy ; and the alterations and
corrections which are to be found in it appear to
have been made when it was originally written.
With the exception of two passages, both parts
have been p'ublished entire. ', .
A 2

IV PREFACE.
This narrative is followed by a series of letters
written to his brother-in-law, the Rev. Mr. Roget,
who was then residing at Lausanne: they commence
in 1780, and continue till the death of Mr. Roget
in 1783. Besides many domestic details, most of
which are omitted, these letters contain an account
of the principal events which took place in Eng
land during those years, and much criticism on the
books he was then reading. Such of them have
been selected as present the most faithful picture of
his mind and disposition at that period of his life.
No original materials exist from which alone it
would have been possible to continue the history
of Sir Samuel Romilly's life during the sixteen
years which elapsed from 1789 to the beginning
of 1806. This interval has been filled up with a
selection from such letters, either from his cor
respondents or himself, as seemed best calculated to
supply this deficiency. To this correspondence has
been added the diary of a visit to Paris in 1802,
and an unfinished narrative of certain events be
longing to the history of his life which took place
in 1805.
The next and principal part of this work is a
journal of his parliamentary life, extending from the
beginning ofthe year 1806 to the close of it in 1818.
The original manuscript is contained in three
small quarto volumes. Except a few references to
subsequent passages, and some pages inserted in the
middle of the second volume, containing letters
relating to the Bristol election, no addition appears
to have been made to any part of it after it was
first written ; and, except two lines which are effaced

PREFACE.

in the second volume, no passage is erased, and
very few corrections are to be found, throughout
this manuscript. The Editors have added several
notes, some to furnish explanations and references,
and some for the purpose of introducing at the
proper dates a few contemporaneous letters : all
the other notes and the marginal abstracts which
appear here, together with a copious index, exist in
the original. A few passages have been omitted,
but no attempt has been made to remove any of
those marks of haste which show the manner in
which this journal was written from day to day, as
the occasion prompted.
Four papers, which are entitled " Letters to C,"
to which is prefixed a separate explanatory introduc
tion, constitute the last portion of these Memoirs.
Such is a short account of the papers which com
pose this work. The reader must not expect to find
in them any connected history of the times in which
they were written, and scarcely any but an incidental
reference to the great events which were then taking
place on the continent of Europe. But to record
public events did not enter into the views with which
these Memoirs were written, neither does it consti
tute any part of those with which they are published.
It should be borne in mind, throughout, that to
give such a history of Sir Samuel Romilly's life, as
will illustrate his character, by describing his feel
ings and opinions as far as the production of original
documents will accomplish it, is the exclusive ob
ject of this work. The Editors have accordingly
strictly confined themselves to the task of selection
and arrangement. They have sedulously abstained
A 3

VI PREFACE.

from comment or remark; and, with the exception
of the few notes and references, hot a word will
be found in these volumes which has not been
written by their father, or by one of his corre
spondents. They have, however, availed them
selves, although very sparingly*, of the power of
suppression ; but in no case has any passage been
omitted which would have given a different colour
to the observations in the text.
Some passages will be found in the parliamentary
diary in which the conduct of various persons is
animadverted upon ; but wherever these have been
retained they have been considered to relate ex
clusively to public character or public conduct,
and to be such as the terms in which they are
expressed, and the object for which they were writ
ten, entitled the Editors to publish, and would not
have justified them in suppressing.
There are, however, many deficiencies in these
Memoirs which, consistently with the plan adopted,
the Editors are unable to supply. Of one part," and
that a most material one, of their father's life, they
regret to say that no account is to be found in these
pages. Of his labours in the study ofthe law, of his
gradual rise and ultimate success in his profession,
to which he owed the opportunities of doing all
that is here recorded, these pages contain scarcely
any mention. Although abundant materials re
main which testify the intensity of his labours in
his profession, he has left none which show the

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

PREFACE. Vll
mode by which he rose, or the eminence which he
reached. The Editors have not sought for in
formation to supply this omission, being anxious
that his character should appear as it is displayed
by himself. If, in truth, they had departed from
this course, it would have been, not to record his
triumphs in his profession, or to relate the influence
of his eloquence, but to describe some few of those
scenes which live in the memories of them all,
when, in the intervals of relaxation from his labours
and in the midst of his children, he sympathised with
their pursuits, partook of their enjoyments, added
by his gaiety to their mirth, and to each, in his dif
ferent way, was scarcely less a companion than a
father. This gratification, however, they have not
ventured to allow .themselves; and, as they neither
pretend. to write his'life, nor affect to possess the
impartiality which should belong to those who un
dertake that task, they have deemed it necessary,
with whatever reluctance, to confine themselves
strictly to the course they had laid down for their
conduct, and to which alone they felt themselves
to be equal. The portrait they present must, they
are aware, be in many respects unfinished, and in
some scarcely more than an outline ; but many con
siderations, amongst which the following have had
the greatest weight, have induced them to offer it,
imperfect as it is, to the observation ofthe public : —
In a codicil to Sir Samuel Romilly's will, after
stating that he had prepared materials for a work
on Criminal Law*, he proceeds to say, " What I
* The papers here referred to are mentioned subsequently in a note
to the introduction to the Letters to C., Vol. III. p. 372.
A 4

Vill PREFACE.
have written is not by any means in a state fit for
publication ; but I should be glad if some friend of
mine would look over it ; and if he thought that
there were any extracts or detached parts of it
which it might be useful to publish, either as fur
nishing good observations, or affording hints which
might be serviceable to others who may treat on
the subject, that so much of them should be
printed with my name. That such a publication
may be injurious to my reputation as an author or
a lawyer I am quite indifferent about ; if it can be
any way useful, that is all I desire."
Every perusal of their father's manuscripts im
pressed the Editors with the belief that the publi
cation of another portion of them, that which forms
the principal part of these volumes, would, though
in a different way, fulfil the spirit of his wishes, and
accomplish the objects he had in view, without di
minishing or impeding any benefit which might
flow from a compliance with the request he had
expressed. And they further felt a conviction
that, although he perhaps did not contemplate the
possibility of these Memoirs being known to others
than his children and their descendants, yet that,
if he had believed that amore extended knowledge
of them could in any way tend to the advancement
of human happiness, he would, had it been pos
sible to consult his wishes, have consented to their
publication. Strongly as the Editors felt this conviction, they
distrusted their own judgment in a case where they
felt personally so deep an interest, and would pro
bably have refrained from acting upon it, if they had

PREFACE. IX
not been supported by other authority ; but their
opinions were confirmed and enforced by those of
the late Mr. Dumont, the earliest of the friends
who survived their father, and who, after an at
tentive consideration of these papers, urged their
publication in the following manner, in a letter *
intended to be addressed to the friend to whom Sir
Samuel Romilly had entrusted the care of his chil
dren, and who, as far as it was possible for any one
to do so, has supplied to them the place of their
father. " I propose, my dear Whishaw, to set down the
principal observations which have occurred to me
in reading the memoirs of the friend whose virtu
ous intentions we wish to fulfil, and whose objects
we desire to accomplish, by devoting to the public
good those writings which breathe, in a peculiar
manner, the spirit of patriotism and benevolence.
" The private memoirs being written only for
himself and his family, and he never having
thought of publishing them, it may be asked if his
friends have the right to do so ; that is, if they
would be authorised by him thus to reveal his
inmost thoughts, and to display the privacies of
life, the very secrecy of which endears them to
us ? Should I wish it, were I in his place ? and I,
who knew him so well, who was thoroughly ac
quainted with his most intimate disposition, can I
* This letter was, in fact, never sent, but was found amongst Mr.
Dumont's papers after his death. The passage in the text is a trans
lation of that portion of it which relates to the private memoirs and the
parliamentary journal ; the rest of the letter refers to other manu
scripts of Sir Samuel Romilly, which are not of an autobiographical
character.

X PREFACE.
believe that he would approve of their publication ?
I believe — to answer my own question — that,
always true, always seeking in the public good for
the sources of his actions, he would say, 'If my
friends think that this publication can injure no
one, and that it may be of public utility, I re
sign myself to their judgment, and sacrifice my
own inclination.' I think also that it must have
occurred to him, as to every one who writes his
own life, that these recollections might be one
day published either by his friends, or from some
accidental cause ; and this appears to me the more
probable from the habitual reserve which is pre
served towards the persons mentioned in them.
" There is, I think, no other work of this kind
which could produce the same moral effects upon
a youthful mind. On one side we see great
talents, great reputation, and ample fortune ; and,
on the other, an obscure origin, scarcely any
education, years lost, — and all these disadvan
tages overcome by unwearied application, and by
efforts constantly directed towards the same end.
It is a lesson composed entirely of facts, worth
more than volumes of moral sentiments; to which
none of those pretences, by which young people
commonly reconcile to themselves their own no
thingness, can be suggested as an answer. Nor
does the example stop here. During twenty years,
no one enjoyed happiness surpassing his, and
this of a kind to be described by him alone who
felt it. Although his natural disposition was not
without a tinge of melancholy, this had ceased at
the moment of his marriage, and left only that

PREFACE.

serious turn of mind which gave weight to all his
thoughts. I, who knew him from the age of two-
and-twenty, could describe how vividly his flexible
imagination dwelt on the pleasures derived from
the beauties of nature, from literature^ from the
fine arts, and from. the society of his friends; and
how he made all these enjoyments keep their pro
per place in the disposal of his time. But never
did I see in him any trace of those habits of de
spondency which produce discontent with one's self
and with the world. A charm, too, is spread over
the whole work, and it leaves in the mind a feeling
of affection for the author ; and this because he
displays himself without pretension, and because the
picture he draws relates only to those moral feelings,
those private virtues, which every one can imitate,
and to that domestic life, the happiness of which,
as it is derived from the purest and most amiable
feelings, creates jealousy in the breast of no one.
Mere men of the world will probably disbelieve it :
in their eyes it will appear a romance, but one that
will not offend them ; and, by the middling ranks,
the most numerous class of society, these Memoirs
will be read with the same feeling as that which
dictated their composition.
" As to the Memoirs of his Parliamentary life,
I should have still fewer doubts about them. I
know that he wrote them only for his private use;
but, at the same time, the only objection that he
could have made to their publication is derived
from their imperfect state, the consequence of
the little care he was able to bestow upon them.
But it appears to me that we are able to appreciate

Xli PREFACE.
the force of this objection. If these Memoirs
present a very interesting summary ; if they will
be read (and as far as I can myself judge this
will be the case) with very great pleasure ; if they
contain a parliamentary history, instructive in the
highest degree with regard to the course of public
affairs, to the incidents which determine their
issue, to the difficulties which lie in the way of all
reforms, and to the precautions necessary to ensure
success ; if they contain abundance of novel and
striking observations on many parts of civil and
penal legislation ; if, as I believe, all this is true,
then I think that the publication of these Memoirs,
although in some respects and on certain subjects
they be but mere sketches, will confer an essential
benefit on the public.
"Above all, it appears to me that no one ever
saw a more perfect model of all that ought to con-
titute a public man in the character of a member
of parliament. And all this appears by a simple
statement, with no pretension, no exaggeration, no
display of feeling, not a word of satire, not an ex
pression which denotes a man hurt by his want of
success, but, on the contrary, representing him
never discouraged, always ready to renew his de
feated projects, and always entertaining the hope
that reason would one day triumph.
" To me, these Memoirs appear a precious monu
ment : and when I reflect that this laborious un
dertaking was the work of a man always occupied
to the utmost extent, who gave up to it, as well as to
all his legislative labours, that time from whence he
might have derived very considerable professional

PREFACE. Xlll
advantages, it seems to me that it cannot fail to pro
duce a lasting effect upon those who know how to
profit by a great example, and to reflect upon what
may be done with life by him who chooses to
employ it."
It is not for the purpose of recording praise of
their father, or of deprecating criticism on these
papers, which it would ill become his sons to at
tempt, that they have inserted this letter, but because
the writer's intimacy with him, prolonged without
interruption from youth to the last concluding
scenes of his life, gives a weight and authority to
the opinion here expressed, which scarcely leave
them the liberty of choice.
In addition to these, the weightiest considerations,
they have felt that, if they shrank from this task,
it might be performed at some distant period, when
those to whom the perusal of this work would afford
the highest gratification had passed away, and when
none remained either to correct accidental errors, or
to bear witness to the accuracy of its author.
If the following pages can furnish any useful
example or convey any useful instruction, and thus
contribute to the honour of their father's memory,
their end will be answered. It is, in truth, with the
view of promoting the objects to which he devoted
his life, in obedience to the spirit which dictated
the latest wish recorded by himself, and under the
conviction that these objects and this wish will, by
these means, be to some extent accomplished, that
his sons now give these papers to the world.

The following statement respecting that portion of Sir
Samuel Romilly's papers which, not being of an autobio
graphical nature, forms no part of the present publication,
is inserted by the Editors, at the request of their father's
executor, Mr. Whishaw,
" In a codicil to Sir Samuel Romilly's will, dated Oct.
1818, there is the following passage : —
" ' I have for some time past employed what leisure I
have had in preparing materials for a work on Criminal
Law, and have written some observations, and collected
facts upon different heads, which would enter into such a
work. "What I have written is not by any means in a state
fit for publication; but I should be glad if some friend of
mine would look over it; and if he thought that there were
any extracts or detached parts of it which it might be
useful to publish, either as furnishing good observations, or
affording hints which might be serviceable to others who
may treat on the subject, that so much of them should be
printed with my name. That such a publication may be
injurious to my reputation as an author or a lawyer I am
quite indifferent about ; if it can be any way useful, that is
all I desire. If my friend, Mr. Whishaw, would look over
the papers with this view, and decide what should be done
with respect to them, I should be highly gratified ; they
could not possibly be in better hands. If it were not to
suit him to undertake such a task, perhaps my friend Mr.
Brougham, who finds time for any thing that has a ten
dency to the advancement of human happiness, would be
able, notwithstanding his numerous occupations, to perform
this office of friendship.'
" In compliance with these directions, Mr. Whishaw
carefully examined the papers in question, and, on full

XVI

consideration, was of opinion that, under all the circum
stances of the case, the publication of them was no longer a
matter of importance, and, unless accompanied or preceded
by a more general publication, was, on the whole, not ad
visable. The amendment of the Criminal Law had made
great progress in public opinion, had engaged the attention
of Parliament and the executive government, and several
of the proposed measures had been anticipated by the legis
lature. He willingly admits that his peculiar habits, and
aversion to publicity, may have contributed to this opinion.
But on consulting others in whom he had confidence, and
especially his excellent friend Sir James Mackintosh, then
chairman of the Parliamentary committee on the amend
ment of the Criminal Law, his opinion was confirmed by
their judgment. He intimated this to the Editors; and de
livered up to them all their father's manuscripts at that time
in his possession, including those which form the principal
part of the following work, and respecting which no other
directions had been left, but that they ' should be preserved
for his children.' The papers on Criminal Law were then in
the hands of Lord Brougham ; but these also were subse
quently returned to the family, with expressions of great
kindness and approbation. To that distinguished indivi
dual Mr. W. gladly avails himself of the present occasion
to record the deep sense of gratitude he, in common with
every member of Sir S. Romilly's family, entertains for the
repeated tributes paid by his Lordship, in his writings and
in his speeches, to the talents and virtues of their departed
friend."

CONTENTS

THE FIRST VOLUME.

NARRATIVE OF THE EARLY LIFE OF
SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY.
1757—1778.
Part I. — Motives for writing his life. Ancestors. His grand
father abandons France and settles in England ; his marriage,
difficulties, and death. His father's character. Anecdote.
His own infancy. Mrs. Facquier. Mary Evans. Instances of
his early disposition. French chapel. Day school. Plans of
life. His self-education. His brother's marriage. Mr. de la
Haize's legacies. Articled to Mr. Lally. His occupations.
Friendship with Mr. Roget. His sister's marriage. Randolph
Greenway - Pages 1 — 39
1778—1789.
Part II. — Motives for resuming this narrative. Reasons for
relinquishing the Six Clerks' office. Enters at Gray's Inn. Mr.
Spranger. Ill health. Lord George Gordon's riots, and their
effect on his health. Journey to Switzerland. Lausanne. So
ciety of Geneva. Criminal trial. Dumont. Excursions. Jour
ney. Paris. Illuminations. D'Alembert, Diderot, Romilly.
Mde. Delessert. Return to England. Baynes. Called to the
bar. Death of Mr. Roget. Journey to Paris. Dr. Franklin.
Mr. Gautier. Geneva. Abb6 Raynal. Return to England.
Midland circuit. Sergeant Hill. Old Wheler. His father's
death. His clerk Bickers. Mirabeau ; Trial of Hardy ; Mr.
Justice Buller. Lord Lansdowne. Fragment on the consti
tutional power and duties of furies. The Rev. Dr. Madan's
vol. i. a

XV111 CONTENTS.
Thoughts on Executive Justice. Observations on a late publi
cation entitled Thoughts, fyc. Ascough, Perceval, Bramston.
Quarter sessions. Death of Baynes. Journey to Paris. Mira
beau. Bicetre. Malesherbes; Anecdote. French politics
and society. Return to England. Statement of rules of the
House of Commons. Thoughts on the probable influence of
the French revolution on Great Britain. Visit to Paris. Cour-
rier de Provence. Abbe Sieyes. Anecdotes, Mallouet.
Mirabeau - - Pages 40 — 112
LETTERS TO THE REV. JOHN ROGET.
1780—1783.
LETTER
I. — Lord George Gordon's riots. Meeting in St. George's
Fields. Tumults at Westminster. Attack upon the
Catholic chapels - , T. - - 113
II. — Lord George Gordon's riots continued. Lord Sand
wich. The prisons broken open, and houses burnt.
Measures of the Government - - - 122
III. — Anecdotes respecting the riots. Character of Lord
George Gordon. Steps taken by the Inns of Court.
Tumults at Bath - - 127
IV. — Effect ofthe riots upon his own health. Character
of the new parliament. Burke's rejection at Bris
tol. The appeal of the Protestant Association com
pared to the war song of the American savages 133
V. — His friends; occupations; and future prospects.
American war ; Arnold's conduct and proclamation ;
Major Andre". Burke's speech at Bristol - 138
VI. — Machiavel's Del Principe. Voltaire's Anti-Machi-
avel. Hurricane in the West Indies. Rousseau 144.
VII. — Debate in the House of Lords on the Dutch war.
Death of Mrs. Facquier - j^q
VIII — Remarks on a bill to disable contractors from sitting
in parliament. English judges in India. Petition
of the Gentoos - - _ . ¦ --
IX. — Tendency to exaggerate the miseries of life. Mode
of life; politics - - . .„.
X.— Burke's motion on the conduct of Rodney and
Vaughan at St. Eustatius. Religious debating socie
ties. Howard on prisons - - _ ,„,

CONTENTS. XIX
LETTER XI — Description ofthe Grande Chartreuse - Page 171
Xli  Ostend. Diderot and Rousseau. Life of Seneca.
Character of the French. Mass at Versailles - 173
XIII. — Diderot ; anecdote of Hume. Birth of the Dauphin ;
rejoicings on the occasion ... 178
XIV. — Lord Cornwallis taken prisoner. Meeting of par
liament. Fox's amendment to the address - 182
XV. — Character of Lord North's administration. Pitt's
first speeches. Roget's future plans. Fine arts at
Paris. Houdon - - - 190
XVI. — De Lolme. French Atheists. Taking of St. Eus-
tatius. D'Alembert - - - - 197
XVII. — Fox's motion on the conduct of Lord Sandwich.
Debate on General Conway's motion on the Ame
rican war . .-' - - - - - 201
XVIII. — Rejoicing ofthe people on the prospect of a change
of ministry. Cross elections at Geneva. Dema
gogues less dangerous in office than out of it.
Wilkes  206
XIX. — Motion for the removal of the ministry. Their
resignation. Burke's speeches, and eloquence. On
.the engagement not to accept office - - 210
XX. — Change of ministry ; LotcI North. Lord George
Gordon. Affairs in Ireland ; Eden's conduct. Fox's
speech ..... 216
XXI. — Debate on Pitt's motion for parliamentary reform.
Atheism - - 220
XXII. — Rodney's victory over De Grasse. Debate on his
recall. Hood. Geneva _ - - - 228
XXIII. — Death of Lord Rockingham. Resignation of Fox,
Burke, &c. Their speeches on resigning. New ap
pointments ----- 232
XXIV. — Geneva. Abbe St. Pierre and Rousseau on per
petual peace - - - - - 238
XXV. — Prospects in his profession. Genevese colony in
Ireland. Hume on eloquence ; Orators of England,
and of antiquity ; Bolingbroke ... 242
XXVI. — Anticipation of peace. King's speech on the open
ing of parliament ; debate, Fox's speech. Genevese
emigration. Locke ----- 247
a 2

XX CONTENTS.
LETTERXXVII  His profession. Geneva. Characters of Duroveray,
Claviere, &c. Pitt's talents - Page 257
XXVIII  Linguet. Memoires sur la Bastille. Mirabeau; in
fluence of religion on eloquence. Alliance between
Fox and Lord North - - - - 264
XXIX. — Coalition ministry - - - 270
XXX  Pitt's motion for reform in parliament. Anecdote.
Penal code. Locke and Rousseau on education. On
Roget's proposed return to England - - 275
XXXI. — To his sister on the loss of her husband - 282
XXXII  On the same subject ... - 285
LETTERS FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU AND
OTHERS.
1783—1787.
XXXIII. — From Mr. Baynes. Chambre du Parlement. He-
nault. (note) Dr. Parr's account of Mr. Baynes 288
XXXIV. — From the Count de Mirabeau. Work on the
order of Cincinnatus - - - 291
XXXV. — From the same. On Fontenelle - - 293
XXXVI. — From the same. On hospitals - 300
XXXVII. — From the same. Gibbon. Marquis of Lansdowne.
Examination of convicted criminals - - 310
XXXVIII.- From Mr. Baynes. Fox. Mirabeau. His friend-
shiP  318
XXXIX. — From the same. On his expectation of the Mar
quis of Lansdowne's offering Mr. Romilly a seat in
parliament -----. 320
XL. — From the Count de Mirabeau. On the immor
tality of the soul. On Mr. Romilly's prospects. 321
XLI.— From the same. His journey to Paris, and publi
cation of the Banque d'Espagne - _ 305
XLH. — From the Marquis op Lansdowne. On Mr. R.'s
Observations on Madans Executive Justice - 328
XLIII.— From Sir G. Elliot. On the same subject. 320
XLIV.— From M. Target. On the same subject - 330
r XLV. — From Mr. Baynes. Trinity College. Studies 332

CONTENTS. XXI
LETTER XL VI. — From Mr. Wilberforce. On the death of Mr.
Baynes .._-.. Page 334
XLVII. — From Mr. Mason (the poet). On the same sub
ject  335
CORRESPONDENCE WITH M. DUMONT AND
OTHERS.
1788—1789.
XLVIII.— To Madame D. Journey from Paris. Mr. Se-
guier's speech - - - - . 337
XLIX. — To the same. King's recovery. The King of Prus
sia's letters. Gray's letters. Abbe de Mably 339
L. — To the same. Abergavenny ; beauty of the coun
try ; Palm Sunday. Abolition of slave trade 341
LI. — To M. Dumont. Debate on the slave trade. Fox,
Wilberforce, Necker, Burke. Petition from Shef
field ----__. 344,
LII. — From M. Dumont. Societe des Amis des Noirs.
Rousseau and Voltaire - 348
LIII. — To M. Dumont. Rules ofthe House of Commons.
Mirabeau. Slave ships ; misrepresentations of tlieir
captains  350
LIV. — From M. Dumont. Rules of the House of Com
mons. Disinclination of the French to borrow from
the British constitution . 354
LV. — To M. Dumont. French revolution; sympathy of
the English. Mirabeau. Murder of Foulon 356
LVI. — From Mlle. D. Switzerland; Canton of Berne;
happiness of the people. Expectations respecting
the French revolution - 358
LV1I. — From Mr. Trail. Mirabeau's proposition for a
riot act in France. National Assembly. Departure
of the Duke of Orleans. Reported plots. Excur
sion to Versailles, 5th and 6th October. Entertain
ment given by the Gardes du Corpp - - 362
LVIII. — From M. Dumont. On the French revolution.
Effect of the removal of the National Assembly to
Paris. Slave trade ----- 365
LIX. — To Madame D. Opinion on the removal of the

XXtl CONTENTS;
LETTER National Assembly. Change of opinion in England
pn the French revolution - Page 368
LX.— To M. Dumont. The English law respecting the
suppression, of riots ; powers of the justices of the
peace; employment of military force; Riot Act 370
LXI. — To the same. Courrier de Provence. On the ex
clusion of ministers from the National Assembly.
On rewards for discovering conspiracies in France.
Poor Laws. Suppliants - 374
„ LXII. — 7b the same. Law proposed in National Assem
bly respecting the children of bankrupts. False
reports of tumults at Paris. History of the French
revolution. , Joseph II. 377
LXIII. — From M. Dumont. Mirabeau 's loss of favour in
the assembly. Law respecting the children of
bankrupts. Intentions of writing the history of the
French revolution. Geneva. Rousseau's Confes
sions - -.-..._. _ 380
LXIV.— To Mr. Vaughan. Domine Salvum &c. Dumont.
Mirabeau. - Courrier de Provence - - 385
1790.
LXV — To M. Dumont." Urges him to write a history of
the French revolution. Slave trade - - 387
LXVI. — Jb Madame G". Congratulations. Reflections on
the progress of the French revolution. State of
Flanders - - . _ ggg
LXVII — From Madame G. Tlie king's acceptance of the
constitution. On the finances. State of France.
Division into departments - 392
LXVIIL — From the same. Thoughts on the Influence &c.
On the state of France ; want of employment, and
general distress --_.._ oqa
LXIX.— From the same. Proceedings of the assembly;
Judicial establishments ; church property. General
licence - _ ^
LXX. — To Madame G. Opinion on the National Assem
bly. Right of making peace and war. Spanish war ;
calamities of war - . , '
4UU

CONTENTS. XXlll
LETTER LXXL:- — To] tas same. Bentham's Defence . of Usury.
- Adam Smith' sMoral-Senlitiients. Opinions ofthe
universities on the French revolution Page 403
LXXII, — To M; Dumont. Affairs of Geneva ; advice to
Dumont respecting them - 405
LXXIII  7b M. G  . Congratulations on the birth of a
¦. daughter. Reflections on the French revolution.
Meeting of parliament. Warren Hastings - 408
LXXIV. — From Madame G. Opinion on the French re
volution - - - - - -411

1791.
LXXV. — From the same. Manner in which English
opinions are considered in France. Danton and
Pastoret - - - - 412
LXXVI. — To M. Dumont. Groenvelt's Letters. On Paine's
Rights of Man. Bentham - - - 414
LXXVII  From Madame G. Paine and Burke. Death of
Mirabeau ; his character, and funeral - - 417
LXXVIIL— From M. Dumoht. On the death of Mirabeau.
Groenvelt's Letters --..-- 422
LXXIX. — To Madame G. Of Mirabeau's character. Slave
trade ; prejudices. Burke and Paine - - 424
LXXX. — From Mr. Trail. The King's reception on his
return from Varennes. Anecdote. Bon-mot on
Voltaire's funeral ----- 428
LXXXI  To Madame G. On the Birmingham riots 431
LXXXIL— 7b M. Dumont. On Groenvelt's Letters - 432
LXXXIIL — From Mr. Wilson, (note) Characters of Wilson
and Trail. Louis XVI.'s acceptance of the consti
tution. "Richard" at the Italian opera. Stories
current at Paris. The republicans in the assembly.
D'Andre. Chamfort. Volney's Ruines - 433
LXXXIV. — From Mr. Trail. Popularity of Louis XVI.
Illuminations. Revocation ofthe decree in favour
of the gens de couleur. Barnave. Report on na
tional education. The Queen and French princes.
Fites nationales. Bailly. Emigrations - 439

XXIV CONTENTS.
LETTER LXXXV.— 7b  Trials of the Birmingham rioters at
Warwick  Page 443
LXXXVI. — From Madame G. Legislative Assembly. Ge
neral desire of the nation for peace and order.
Emigration among the middle classes - 450
LXXXVII. — 7b Madame G. His profession. National As
sembly. Fox. Insurrection at St. Domingo 453

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MEMOIRS OF
SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY.

NARRATIVE OF HIS EARLY LIFE WRITTEN BY
HIMSELF IN 1796.
I757—I778.
August 16. 1796.
I sit down tp write my life ; the life of one who
never achieved any thing memorable, who will
probably leave no posterity, and the memory of
whom is therefore likely to survive him only till
the last of a few remaining and affectionate friends
shall have followed him to the grave. A subject
so uninteresting will hardly awaken the curiosity of
any one into whose hands this writing may chance
to fall, and I may almost be assured of having
no reader but myself. In truth, it is for myself
that I write, for myself alone ; for my own instruc
tion, and my own amusement. In old age, if I
should live to be old, I may find a pleasure, con
genial to that season of life, in retracing the actions
and sentiments of my youth and of my manhood,
less imperfectly than by the aid of an impaired and
decaying memory, and as it were in living again
with relations and with friends long deceased.
vol. 1. B

2 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78
If I had the inclination, I have not the means
of speaking of many of my ancestors. The first
of them that I have ever heard of is my great
grandfather ; and of him I know little more than
that he had a pretty good landed estate at Mont
pellier, in the south of France, where he resided.
He was a Protestant, but living under the religious
tyranny of Louis XIV., and in a part of France
where persecution raged with the greatest fury, be
found it prudent to dissemble his faith, and it was
only in the privacy of his own family that he ven
tured to worship God in the way which he judged
would find favour in His sight. His only son, my
grandfather, he educated in his own religious prin
ciples, and so deeply did the young man imbibe them
that, when he was about seventeen- years of age*, he
made a journey to Geneva for the sole purpose of
there receiving the sacrament. It was a journey
which had most important consequences to his pos
terity, and to which I owe that I was not born
under the despotism of the French monarchy, and
that I have not fallen a victim to the more cruel
despotism which, succeeded it. At Geneva my
grandfather met with the celebrated Saurin, who
happened to be on a visit there. The reputation
of that extraordinary man was then at the highest.
He was revered as an apostle ; and his eloquence
and his authority could not fail to make a forcible
impression on a young mind deeply tinctured with
that religious fervour, which persecution generally
inspires. The result of a few conversations was a
fixed determination in my grandfather to abandon
* In 1701 : he was born in 1Q84.

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 3
for ever his native country,, his connexions, his
friends, his affectionate parents, and the inheritance
which awaited him ; and to trust to his own industry
for a subsistence amidst strangers and in a foreign
land, but in the enjoyment of civil and religious
liberty. Instead of returning to Montpellier, he set
out for London ; and it was not till he had landed
in England, that he apprized his father of the irre«
vocable resolution which he had formed. He, at
first, met with much more prosperity in the country,
which he had thus adopted, than he could have had
reason to expect. His father endeavoured to alle
viate the hardships of his exile by remitting him
money ; and, after he had been a few years in
England, he set up with a tolerable capital at Hoxton,
in the neighbourhood of London, in the business
of a wax-bleacher. He soon afterwards married
Judith de Monsallier*, the daughter of another
French refugee, and he became the father of a very
numerous family. His generosity, his piety, his
affection for his wife, his tenderness towards his
children, and their reciprocal fondness and venera
tion for him, are topics on which I have often heard
my father and my aunts enlarge with the most
lively emotion. His generosity, indeed, was such,
that it led him into expences, which the profits of
his business alone would have ill enabled him to
support ; but he had a better resource in the remit-
* She was one of four children of Francis de Monsallier : the other
three were also daughters ; Lucy, married to Solomon Pages ; Anne
Marie Picart, married to a person of the name of De Laferty ; and
Elizabeth, married to * * * Fludyer. See the will of Francis de Mon
sallier, dated 5th May, 1725. When he died does not appear, but there
is a codicil to his will, dated 13th Oct. 1726.
B 2

4 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
tances, which he was seldom long without receiving
from his father.
This resource, however, at last failed, and a sad
reverse of fortune ensued. His father died: a distant
relation (but the next heir who was a Catholic) took
possession of the estate, and my grandfather was
reduced to a very scanty income for the subsistence
of his large family ; difficulties were soon multiplied
upon him, and bankruptcy and poverty were the
consequences. His gentle spirit sunk under these
calamities, and he died at the age of forty-nine of a
broken heart, leaving behind him a widow, four
sons, and four daughters, and most of them wholly
unprovided for.* To them, though they were all of
an age to discern the full extent of the melancholy
prospect before them, all misfortunes appeared
light in comparison with the loss of such a parent ;
and the youngest of them, whose name was Joseph,
abandoning himself to grief and despair, was within
a few months buried in the grave, which had re
cently closed upon his father.
Of the three remaining sons, Stephen, Isaac,
and Peter, my father was the youngest. He was
born in the year 1712, and had been bound by my
grandfather an apprentice to a jeweller, of the
name of Lafosse, who lived in Broad Street, in the
City. During his apprenticeship he contracted a great
intimacy with one of his fellow- apprentices of the
name of Garnault, who was, like himself, the son of

* He died in ] 733. His four daughters were Ann, afterwards married
to # * # * Gibbons ; Catherine, who married * * * * Hunter, and Martha
and Margaret who were never married.

1757-78. HIS EARLY LTFE, PART I. 5
a Protestant refugee. This lad had a sister to whom
my father was introduced, and his acquaintance
with her soon grew up into a mutual passion. The
brother long encouraged it 5 but afterwards, either
from a change in his own prospects in life, founded
on a hope which he conceived that a rich uncle
would leave him his estate, or from mere caprice,
he began to look on my father with coolness, dis
approved the visits to his sister, and at last desired
that they might be discontinued. She had no
money, indeed, but she had rich relations, and they
too were averse to her marrying a young man with
out fortune, and with no other expectations than
what industry, honesty, youth, and good health could
enable him to form. The passion, however, which,
under the sanction of her nearest relations, she had
indulged, had taken too strong possession of her
mind to be dismissed just as they should dictate ;
but what she could do she did,, she submitted to
their authority, resigned all hopes of marrying my
father, and gave herself up to a despair which de
stroyed her health, and endangered her life.
My father soon afterwards quitted the. kingdom,
and went to reside at Paris. There he continued
for a considerable time, working as a journeyman
in his business ; and having saved out of his little
earnings a small sum of money, he employed it in
making an excursion into the south of France.
Montpellier was amongst the places which he vi
sited ; and he did not fail to take a view of the fa
mily estate, now in the possession of strangers and
irrecoverably lost, since it could be redeemed only
by falsehood and apostacy.
b 3

6 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
# # # # * * !
His children were his greatest delight ; and yet
of the six eldest of those children, five died in in
fancy. The sixth, a girl, lived indeed a few years
longer, but she lived only till she had taken stronger
hold of his affections, and then was torn from him
like the rest. The death of this favourite child was
considered by my father as the greatest calamity of
his life. Her extraordinary perfections, my father's
doting love of her, his habit of waking her in the
morning by playing on a flute at the side of her
bed, his anxious solicitude during her illness, and
the violence of his grief at the loss of her, have
been often described to me. I was not born 2 myself
till several years after her death.
Naturally, my father was of the most cheerful
and happy disposition, always in good humour, al
ways kind and indulgent, always, even in the worst
circumstances, disposed to expect the best, enjoying
all the good he met with in life, and consoling him
self under adversity with the hope that it would
not be of long duration. Of extreme sensibility,
and quick in expressing what he felt, he was suh-
iect to violent transports of anger ; but they were
always short and transient, and left not the least
trace of resentment behind, not even where a real
' In this part of the MS. there is a considerable erasure. The
writer had no doubt proceeded to give an account of his father's mar
riage, and of the circumstances connected with that event ; but dissatis
fied, as it would seem, with what he had written, he expunged several
pages. This chasm in the narrative he never afterwards filled up ; and,
the papers he has left do not afford any materials from which to supply
the deficiency ,beyond the fact that Miss Garnault's family at leno-th con
sented to her union with Mr. Komilly's father, which accordingly took
place. — Ed. 6 *
2 He was born on the 1st of March, 1757. — Ed.

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. J
injury had been done him : warm and persevering
in his friendship, he can hardly be said to have
ever entertained an enmity. He'was very religious,
but his religion was without austerity : and, though
he did not fail to read prayers in the midst of his
family every Sunday, he attached much less im
portance to the forms of religion than to the sub
stance of it ; and the substance he thought con
sisted in doing good to our fellow-creatures. His
charity far exceeded the means of his fortune, and
he sometimes indulged it to a degree which cold
discretion might tax with imprudence. At a time
when he had but a slender income, and a numerous
family, it happened that, he frequently observed in a
street in his neighbourhood a woman lying at a door
in rags and dirt, half naked, and apparently in ex
treme distress, yet generally intoxicated : she had
a female infant by her side, who was crying for
bread, but to whose cries she seemed insensible.
My father's imagination was forcibly struck by this
spectacle of wretchedness and depravity. He pic
tured to himself, in strong colours, the fate to which
the wretched child seemed devoted, and he deter
mined if possible to save her. He applied to the
woman, who, without difficulty, parted with the
child, of which she did not pretend to be the mo
ther. He clothed her, maintained her for several
years, had her taught to read and work, and when
she had grown up to a proper age, provided for her
the place of a servant, and had the satisfaction to
see her in that situation living for many years with
reputation and comfort.
There was one occurrence, and that a very im-
b 4

8 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
portant one, in his life, in which he acted with such
unexampled disinterestedness, and made so extraor
dinary a sacrifice of his happiness to what he con
ceived to be his duty, that it is with great reluctance
that I deny myself the satisfaction of relating it ;
but it is unfortunately connected with transactions,
the memory of which might give great pain to per
sons now living, and who perhaps may survive me.
My father, therefore, I am sure, would be sorry
that it should be remembered, and I suppress what
would add so largely to his praise from a pious re
spect for his benevolence.
He used often to talk to his children ofthe plea
sure of doing good, and of the rewards which vir
tue found in itself; and from his lips that doctrine
came to us, not as a dry and illusive precept, but
as a heart-felt truth, and as the fruit of the happiest
experience. All my father's favourite amusements were such
as his home only could afford him. He was fond
of reading, and he had formed for himself a small,
Dut a tolerably well chosen, library. He was an
admirer of the fine arts, but pictures being too
costly for his purchase, he limited himself to prints ;
and in the latter part of his life, as he grew richer,
indulging himself in this innocent luxury to a de
gree perhaps of extravagance, he had at last a very
large and valuable collection. He took pleasure in
gardening, and he hired a small garden, in which
he passed in the summer most of the few leisure
hours which his business afforded him. But I am
anticipating a subsequent period.
The loss of so many children filled my father

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. ,.- Q
with consternation. He began to ascribe it to the
unwholesomeness of a constant town residence,
and he determined to take a small lodging in the
country, where his family might, during the sum
mer months, breathe a purer air than that of London.
He accordingly hired some rooms at Marylebone,
which was then a small village about a mile distant
from town, though it has now, for many years, by
the increase of new buildings, been united to, and
become a part of the metropolis. My father had
reason to congratulate himself upon the success of
this experiment, for all the children which he
afterwards had lived to years of maturity. They
were only three ; my brother Thomas, my sister
Catherine, and myself.
We were brought up principally by a very kind
and pious female relation of my mother's, a Mrs.
Margaret Facquier, who had lived in our family
ever since my mother's marriage. She taught us
to read, and to read with intelligence ; though the
books in which we were taught were ill suited to
our age. The Bible, the Spectator, and an English
translation of Telemachus, are those which I re
collect our having in most frequent use. But this
kind relation had too bad a state of health to attend
to us constantly. During the last forty years of
her life, it seldom happened that many weeks passed
without her being confined to her bed, or at least
to her room. The care of us, upon these occasions,
devolved on a female servant of the name of Mary
Evans, who was ill qualified to give us instruction
orto cultivate our understandings; but whose tender
and affectionate nature, whose sensibility at the suf-

10. NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
ferings of others, and earnest desire to relieve them
to the utmost extent of her little means, could
hardly fail to improve the hearts of those who were
under her care.
Perhaps there hardly ever existed three persons
more affectionate, more kind, more compassionate,
and whose sentiments and whose example were
better calculated to inspire every soft and gene
rous affection, than these two excellent women
and our most excellent father. It was under the in
fluence of these examples that we passed our ear
liest years ; as for my mother,- she was incapable,
from the bad state of her health, of taking any part
in our education.
The servant whom I have mentioned was to
me in the place of a mother. I loved her to a'dor-
ation. I remember, when quite a child, kissing,
unperceived by her, the clothes which she wore ;
and when she once entertained a design of quitting
our family and going to live with her own relations,
receiving the news as that of the greatest misfor
tune that could befal me, and going up into my
room in an agony of affliction, and imploring God
upon my knees to avert so terrible a calamity.
It is commonly said to be the happy privilege
of youth to feel no misfortunes but the present, to
be careless ofthe future, and forgetful ofthe past.
That happy privilege I cannot recollect having
ever enjoyed. In my earliest infancy, my ima
gination was alarmed and my fears awakened by
stories of devils, witches, and apparitions; and they
had a much greater effect upon me than is even
usual with children ; at least I judge so, from their

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 11
effect being of a more than usual duration. The
images of terror, with which those tales abound,
infested my imagination very long after I had dis
carded all belief in the tales themselves, and in the
notions on which they are built ; and even now,
although I have been accustomed for many years to
pass my evenings and my nights in solitude, and
without even a servant sleeping in my chambers, I
must, with some shame, confess that they are some
times very unwelcome intruders upon my thoughts.
I often recollect, and never without shuddering, a
story which, in my earliest childhood, (for my memory
hardly reaches beyond it,) I overheard, as I lay in
bed, related by an old woman who was employed
about our house, of a servant murdering his master ;
and particularly that part of it where the murderer,
with a knife in his hand, had crept, in the dead of
night, to the side of the bed in which his master lay
asleep, and when, as from a momentary compunc
tion, he was hesitating before he executed his bloody
purpose., he on a sudden heard a deep hollow voice
whispering close to his ear in a commanding tone,
" that he should accomplish his design ! "
But it was not merely such extravagant stories
that disturbed my peace ; as dreadful an impression
was made on me by relations of murders,, and acts
of cruelty. The prints, which I found in the lives
of the martyrs and the Newgate Calendar, have cost
me many sleepless nights. My dreams too were
disturbed by the hideous images which haunted
my imagination by day. I thought myself present
at executions, murders, and scenes, of blood ; and
I have often lain in bed agitated by my terrors,

12 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
equally afraid of remaining awake in the dark, and
of falling asleep to encounter the horrors of my
dreams. Often have I in my evening prayers to
God besought him, with the utmost fervour, to
suffer me to pass the night undisturbed by horrid
dreams. I had other apprehensions, and some of a kind
which are commonly reserved for maturer years.
I was oppressed with a constant terror of death,
not indeed for myself, but for my father, whose life
was certainly much dearer to me than my own. I
never looked on his countenance, on which care
and affliction had deeply imprinted premature
marks of old age, without reflecting that there
could not be many years of his excellent life still
to come. If he returned home later than usual,
though but half an hour, a thousand accidents
presented themselves to my mind ; and, when put
to bed, I lay sleepless and in the most tormenting
anxiety till I heard him knock. This state of mind
became so habitual to me, that an uneasiness and a
foreboding of some misfortune came upon me re
gularly about half an hour before the usual time of
his return, and went on increasing till the moment
of his arrival. So far, indeed, was I from endea
vouring to overcome this weakness, that I wil
lingly encouraged it, from a strange idea which I
had conceived, that by dreading misfortunes I pre
vented them, and that the calamity, which I feared
would, whenever it happened, come upon me quite
unawares. I took a pleasure therefore in indulging
my terrors, and reproached myself if ever I felt a
moment of security.

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 13
The idea of my father's approaching death pur
sued me even in the midst of scenes which seemed
most likely to dispel such gloomy reflections. I
remember once accompanying him to the theatre
on a night when Gar rick acted. The play was
Zara, and it was followed by the farce of Lethe.
The inimitable and various powers of acting, which
were displayed by that admirable performer in both
those pieces, could not for a moment drive from my
mind the dismal idea which haunted me. In the
aged Lusignan I saw what my father in a few years
would be, tottering on the brink of the grave ; and
when in the farce the old man desires to drink the
waters of Lethe that he may forget how old he is,
I thought that the same idea must naturally pre
sent itself to my father ; that he must see as clearly
as I did that his death could not be at the distance
of many years ; and" that, notwithstanding his ap
parent cheerfulness, that idea must often prey
upon his mind, and poison his happiness more even
than it did mine. I looked at his countenance
as he was sitting by me, persuaded myself that I
observed a change in his features, conjectured that
the same painful reflections had occurred to him as
had to me, repented of having entered the theatre,
and returned from it as sad and as dejected as I
could have done from a funeral.
The anxiety which I constantly felt about my
father strengthened in me the natural inclination
which I always had for a life of peace and tran
quillity ; and gave me such an aversion, and even a
terror of every kind of tumult and disturbance, as
I can hardly describe. It was not often that my

14 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
father took us to any public amusements : it did
however sometimes happen; and my mother,
whenever her health would allow of it, was of the
party. My father, as I have already observed, was
of a temper warm and impatient of injury, and his
solicitudefor thebeloved objects which he had under
his charge made him resent, with ah unnecessary-
degree of warmth and violence, the incivility of
those who happened to crowd upon us, or in any
way to incommode us. The dread of such quar
rels, and of what might be the consequence of them
to him, always depressed my spirits when in any
place of public resort ; and the greatest pleasure I
reaped from those kind of amusements was the
satisfaction with which, upon our return home, I
reflected that he was safe, as if there had been
some mighty danger which he had escaped.
My infancy and my childhood, though they were
thus clouded, did not however pass without many
gleams of sunshine. My spirits were often high,
even to a degree of tumult and intoxication, and
my imagination was not always employed upon
melancholy subjects. My imagination, indeed,
was the faculty which I most exercised, and it was
often very busily employed when those about me
were little aware of it. D uring the winter months, we
were always very regular on Sundays in our morning
and evening attendance at church. My father had
a pew in one of the French chapels, which had
been established when the Protestant refugees first
emigrated into England, and he required us to
attend alternately there and at the parish church.
It was a kind of homage which he paid to the faith

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 15
of his ancestors, and it was a means of rendering
the French language familiar to us : but nothing
was ever worse calculated to inspire the mind of a
child with respect for religion than such a kind of
religious worship. Most ofthe descendants ofthe
refugees were born and bred in England, and de
sired nothing less than to preserve the memory of
their origin ; and their chapels were therefore ill
attended. A large uncouth room, the avenues to
which were narrow courts and dirty alleys, and
which, when you entered it, presented to the
view only irregular unpainted pews and dusty
plastered walls ; a congregation consisting prin
cipally of some strange-looking old women scat
tered here and there, one or two in a pew ; and
a clergyman reading the service and preaching in a
monotonous tone of voice, and in a language not
familiar to me, was not likely either to impress my
mind with much religious awe, or to attract my at
tention to the doctrines which were delivered. In
truth, I did not even attempt to attend to them ;
my mind was wandering to other subjects, and dis
porting itself in much gayer scenes than those be
fore me, and little of religion was mixed in my
reveries. But it is time to say something of my educa
tion, if the little instruction I ever received from
masters deserves to be so called. My brother
and myself were sent, when we were very young,
to a day-school in our neighbourhood, of which
the sole recommendation seems to have been,
that it had once been kept by a French re
fugee, and that the sons of many refugees were

16 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
still scholars at it. All the learning which it af
forded we were to receive ; but the utmost that our
master professed to teach was reading, writing,
arithmetic, French, and Latin, and the last was
rather inserted in his bill of fare by way of orna
ment, and to give a dignity and character to the
school, than that there was any capacity of teaching
it either in our master or in any of his ushers. I
doubt whether any one of them was capable of
construing a single sentence of the easiest Latin
prose. Our master was ignorant, severe, and
brutal : my brother and myself, however, escaped
the effects of those bad qualities, by the help of
others which he possessed ; for towards his scholars
he was unequal and partial, and we were both
among his favourites. The severity with which
he treated many of the other boys, however, often
excited my indignation and aversion ; and I often
burned with shame at not being among the victims
of his injustice. He had very bad health, and his
disorder gave an edge to his ill-humour, and kept
it in constant activity. Many a poor boy have I
seen overwhelmed with stripes, because our master
had a sleepless night, or felt the symptoms of a re
turning rheumatism. Young as I then was, I was
struck with the bad effects of this severe treat
ment. There were some boys who were always in
scrapes, continually playing truant and continually
punished with increasing severity. Their faults, and
the mischievousness of their dispositions, seemed
to increase in proportion to the severity with
which they were treated. The observation, how
ever, could not, by daily experience, force itself upon

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 17
the mind of so thorough-bred a schoolmaster as
Mr. Flack. He would as soon have doubted that
food is the proper remedy for hunger, as that
blows and stripes are the only genuine promoters
of goodness, and incentives to virtue. From the
nature ofthe school maybe conjectured what was,
in general, the description of the scholars. They
consisted, principally, ofthe sons of all the barbers,
bakers, and butchers, in the neighbourhood ; and
the superior gentility of my father's trade was, I
believe, the contemptible motive for the favour
which we experienced. At this miserable seminary
we continued for several years, and the only
acquisitions that we made at it were writing,
arithmetic, and the rules of the French grammar.
The more familiar use of that language we acquired
at home ; it being a rule established by my father,
that French should be spoken in the family on a Sun
day morning, the only time which a constant atten
dance to business allowed him to pass with us.
My father was particularly desirous that I
should learn Latin, and Latin was among the
things which my master professed to teach me ;
but, after the account which I have given of my
instructors, it is unnecessary to say that I made no
proficiency in it. The motive with my father for
wishing me to learn it was a desire, which he en
tertained, that I should enter into the profession of
the law ; as he destined my brother to succeed
himself in his business. But those plans, which he
had formed in his own mind, were formed in perfect
subordination to what might be our own choice; it
being a fixed opinion of his, that few men succeed
vol. i. c

18 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
in any profession which they have not themselves
chosen. He endeavoured, however, by his con-
- versation, to give me a favourable opinion of the
way of life of a lawyer, an attorney I should say,
for his ideas certainly soared no higher. But, un
fortunately for the success of his plan, there was
one attorney, and only one, among his acquaint
ance, a certain Mr. Liddel, who lived in Thread-
needle Street, in the City, and was, I believe,
a man eminent enough in his line. He was a
shortish fat man with a ruddy countenance, which
always shone as if besmeared with grease ; a large
wig which sat loose from his head ; his eyes con
stantly half shut and drowsy ; all his motions slow
and deliberate ; and his words slabbered out as
if he had not exertion enough to articulate. His
dark and gloomy house was filled with dusty
papers and voluminous parchment deeds ; and in
his meagre library I did not see a single volume
which I should not have been deterred by its ex
ternal appearance from opening. The idea of a
lawyer and of Mr. Liddel were so identified in my
mind, that I looked upon the profession with dis
gust, and entreated my father to think of any way of
life for me but that ; and, accordingly, all thoughts
of my being an attorney were given up as well by
my father as myself.
But my father was not long without forming
other schemes for me. Sir Samuel Fludyer, and
his brother Sir Thomas, who were at the head of a
great commercial house in the citv, were his
cousins-german ; two of his brothers *, my uncles,
* Stephen and Isaac.

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 19
had been partners in the house, and he began to
entertain hopes of my arriving in time at the same
situation. The Eludyers had begun their career
in very narrow circumstances ; but, by extraordinary
industry, activity, enterprise, and good fortune,
they had acquired inordinate wealth, and were
every day increasing it by the profits of a most ex
tensive commerce. Sir Samuel was an alderman
of the city of London, and a member of Parlia
ment.* He had been created a Baronet, and had
served the office of Lord Mayor in a year very
memorable in the history of city honours ; for it
was that in which the King, upon his marriage,
made a visit to the corporation, and dined in Guild
hall. Notwithstanding, however, the great eleva
tion at which fortune had placed these opulent re
lations above my father, they always maintained a
very friendly intercourse with him, and professed,
perhaps sincerely, a great desire to serve him*
Sir Samuel, too, was my god-father; and the humble
situation of a clerk in his counting-house might, if
I had pleased him by my conduct, have led to a
very brilliant fortune. My father therefore deter
mined to fit me for that situation, and it was re
solved that I should learn the art, or science (I
know not which it should be called) of keeping
merchants' accounts. A master was accordingly
provided for me. I was equipped with a set of jour
nals, waste books, bill books, ledgers, and I know
not what; and I passed some weeks in making care
ful entries of ideal transactions, keeping a register of
the times when fictitious bills of exchange would
# For Chippenham.
C 2

20 NARRATIVE OF 1757-7&
become due, and posting up imaginary accounts.
I should have lost more time than I did in this
ridiculous employment, if my instructor, Mr. John
son, as he was called, (but whose name was perhaps
as fictitious as those of my correspondents at Am
sterdam, at Smyrna, and in both the Indies, and to
whose merits my father had been introduced only
by an advertisement in a newspaper,) had not
suddenly decamped to avoid his creditors. Events,
which soon afterwards happened, made it unne
cessary to look out for a new professor of the
mercantile science. Sir Samuel Fludyer died of an
apoplexy ; Sir Thomas did not long survive him ; and
all the prospects of riches and honours, which we
thought opening upon me, were shut out for ever.
Other plans were now to be thought of, and my
father talked at one time of placing me as an ap
prentice with a jeweller and silversmith in Cheap-
side. Neither this, however, nor any other scheme
was carried into execution. What prevented them
I do not recollect; but at the age of fourteen, when
I had left school,. I remained at home without any
certain destination, and my father began to employ
me in his business, at first because I had no other
occupation, and afterwards with a view to its being
carried on by me and my brother when he should
decline it.
A short time before his marriage, my father had
set up for himself as a jeweller; and by his diligence
and honesty in his dealings, and the taste and merit
of his workmanship, he had so much extended his
business, and had acquired in it such celebrity,
that, for several years, about the period of which I

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 21
am now speaking, its returns were not less than
twenty thousand pounds a year. With all this, how
ever, he had not acquired much riches by it. He
had contented himself with very moderate profits,
and that not at the beginning only, and as a means
of establishing his name, but when his reputation
was at the highest, and he was obliged to decline
much of the business that was offered him. His
easy and unsuspecting nature, too, had induced him
to give credit incautiously, and his losses had been
considerable. The business itself, however, if pro
perly and skilfully managed, would afford very
ample profits, was capable of being much enlarged,
and might be considered as a very good provision
both for me and for my brother..
My new employment was merely to keep my
father's accounts, and sometimes to see and receive
orders from his customers. In this occupation about
two years of my life were spent. It was an occu
pation which never pleased me but in one respect;
it imposed little restraint upon me, and left me
many hours of leisure. These I employed in read
ing, which had been for some time my principal
amusement. I read, without system or object, just
such books as fell in my way, such as my father's
library afforded, and such as several circulating
libraries, to which I subscribed in succession, could
supply. Ancient history, English poetry, and works
of criticism, were, however, my favourite subjects;
and poetry soon began to predominate over them
all. After a few attempts, I found myself, to my
unspeakable joy, possessed of a tolerable faculty of
rhyming, which I mistook for a talent for poetry. I
c 3

22 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
wrote eclogues, songs, and satires, made transla
tions of Boileau, and attempted imitations of Spen
ser. My feeble verses, and puerile images were
received with the most flattering applause by my
family, and afforded supreme delight to myself. I
was soon persuaded that I possessed no inconsider
able share of genius. My father's business became
every day more unpleasant to me, and I lamented
that I had not been educated for some profession
connected with literature. I considered that it was
not yet too late for me, with an abundance of zeal,
to make a very great progress. I determined, there
fore, when I was between fifteen and sixteen years
of age, to apply myself seriously to learning Latin,
of which I, at that time, knew little more than some
ofthe most familiar rules of grammar. Having made
myself tolerably mas£er of the grammar, I was for
tunate enough to meet with a very good scholar in
a Scotchman ofthe name of Paterson, who kept a
school, in Bury Street, St. James's, and who became
my instructor. From him I every day received a
lesson, which consisted in his correcting my Latin
exercises, and hearing me construe a few pages of
some Latin author. But the hour I passed with
him was a very small portion of the time which I
every day dedicated to this new study. I con
sumed the greatest part of my time in poring over
Csesar, Livy, and Cicero ; in consulting, at every
difficulty, the translations of those authors which I
had procured ; and in making translations of my
own, first from Latin into English, and then back
again into Latin.
In the course of three or four years, during which

1757-78. HIS EARIY LIFE, PART I. 23
I thus applied myself, I had read every prose writer
of the ages of pure Latinity, except those who
have treated merely of technical subjects, such as
Varro, Columella, and Celsus. I had gone three
times through the whole of Livy, Sallust, and Ta
citus : I had read all Cicero, with the exception,
I believe, only of his Academic questions, and his
treatises De Finibus, and De Divinatione. I had
studied the most celebrated of his orations, his Lce-
lius, his Cato Major, his treatise De Oratore, and
his Letters, and had translated a great part of them.
Terence, Virgil, Horace, Ovid, and Juvenal, I had
read again and again. From Ovid and from Virgil
I made many translations in verse, for so I ought
to call them, rather than poetical translations. At
the time, however, they appeared to me to have
such merit, that I remember reading with triumph,
first Dryden's translation, and then my own, to my
good-natured relations, who concurred with me in
thinking that I had left poor Dryden at a most hu
miliating distance ; a proof certainly, not of the
merit of my verses, but ofthe badness of my judg
ment, the excess of my vanity, and the blind parti
ality of my friends.
In ranging through such a variety of authors
and studying their works, I did not imagine that I
was doing any thing extraordinary. With great
simplicity, I supposed that a similar course of read
ing entered into the plan of education adopted at
our public schools and Universities. Greek I at
tempted, but with no success ; and, after seriously
considering the difficulties which the language pre
sented, and the little probability there was at my
c 4

24 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
time of life of my ever becoming completely mas
ter of it, or even of my making in it any tolerable
progress, without sacrificing a large portion of time
which might be more usefully employed, I re
nounced the hope of ever reading the Greek writers
in the original. I determined, however, to read
them ; and I went through the most considerable of
the Greek historians, orators, and philosophers, in
the Latin versions, which generally accompany the
original text.
My reading had been so various, that I had ac
quired some slight knowledge of a good many
sciences. Travels had been one of my favourite
subjects ; and, as I seldom read either travels or
history without maps before me, I had acquired a
tolerable stock of geographical knowledge. I had
read, too, a good deal of natural history, and had
attended several courses of lectures on natural phi
losophy, given by Martin, the optician in Fleet
Street, by Ferguson, and by Walker.
My father's taste for pictures and prints could
hardly fail of being communicated to his children.
I found a great source of amusement in turning
over the prints he was possessed of, became a great
admirer of pictures, never omitted an opportunity
of seeing a good collection, knew the peculiar style
of almost every master, and attended the lectures
on painting, architecture, and anatomy, which were
given at the Royal Academy.
Such were my pursuits and my amusements ; but
these were not my only amusements. My father's
house furnished me with others most congenial to
my disposition. Several happy changes had by this

1757-78: HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 25
time taken place in our family. As my mother
advanced in age her constitution was strengthened,
and she at last recovered a good state of health.
Our family had been increased and enlivened by
two female cousins, the children of my uncle Isaac,
who had been left orphans in their infancy by the
premature and almost sudden death of both their
parents within a few days of each other. Imme
diately after that melancholy event had happened,
Sir Samuel Fludyer took the eldest under his
guardianship, and Sir Thomas the youngest ; but a
few years only passed before death reduced them
both to a second orphanage. Their sprightly so
ciety and amiable dispositions contributed most
essentially to the happiness of us all.
The eldest, particularly, added to the utmost
sweetness of temper, extraordinary accomplish
ments and uncommon beauty. Her charms were
really most captivating, and both my brother and
myself felt the effects of them. Mine, however,
was the love of a child, and soon yielded to my
brother's more earnest passion, which increased
and strengthened with time, and was many years
afterwards rewarded by marriage. They have ever
since lived happy in each other and in their
children, surrounded at this moment by eight of
them, and having never for a single instant had
their harmony interrupted.
Among other changes, a very considerable one
had taken place in my father's circumstances. A
very rich relation of my mother's, a Mr. de la Haize,
had died, and had left us very large legacies. To
me and to my brother 2000^. a-piece, to my sister

26 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
3000^., to my father, my mother, and Mrs. Fac
quier, legacies of about the same amount for their
lives, with remainder to my brother, my sister, and
myself, and to each of us a share of the residue of
his fortune equally with the rest of his legatees.
The whole property bequeathed to us amounted to
gether to about 14,000^. or 15,000^. Blessed be his
memory for it! But for this legacy, the portion of
my life which is already past must have been spent
in a manner the most irksome and painful, and
my present condition would probably have been
wretched and desperate. I should have engaged
in business ; I should probably have failed of suc
cess in it ; and I should at this moment have been
without fortune, without credit, and without the
means of acquiring either, and, what Would have
been most painful to me, my nearest relations would
have been without resources.
Upon receiving so large an accession to his
fortune, my father removed out of his country
lodgings into a house, still however at Marylebone ;
though, by the increase of the new buildings, it
had ceased to be the country, and was merely the
outskirts of London. There our whole family now
resided throughout the year, what had been our
town-house being appropriated entirely to business.
Our new house was in High Street, and, to judge
from its external appearance, its narrow form, its
two small windows on a floor, and the little square
piece of ground behind it, which was dignified with
the name of a garden, one would have supposed
that very scanty and very homely, indeed, must
have been this our comparative opulence and

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 27
luxury. But those who had mingled in our fa
mily, and had hearts to feel in what real happi
ness consists, would have formed a very different
judgment. They would have found a lively,
youthful, and accomplished society, blest with
every enjoyment that an endearing home can
afford ; a society united by a similarity of tastes,
dispositions, and affections, as well as by the strong
est, ties of blood. They would have admired our
lively, varied, and innocent pleasures ; our sum
mer rides and walks in the cheerful country, which
was close to us ; our winter-evening occupations
of drawing, while one of us read aloud some in
teresting book, or the eldest of my cousins played
and sung to us with exquisite taste and expression ;
the little banquets with which we celebrated the
anniversary of my father's wedding, and of the
birth of every member of our happy society ; and
the dances with which, in spite of the smallness
of our rooms, we were frequently indulged. I can
not recollect the days, happily I may say the years,
which thus passed away, without the most lively
emotion. I love to transport myself in idea into
our little parlour with its green paper, and the
beautiful prints of Vivares, Bartolozzi, and Strange,
from the pictures of Claude, Caracci, Raphael,
and Corregio, with which its walls were elegantly
adorned; and to call again to mind the familiar
and affectionate society of young and old inter
mixed, which was gathered round the fire ; and
even the Italian greyhound, the cat, and the spa
niel, which lay in perfect harmony basking before
it. I delight to see the door open, that I may re-

\j

28 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
cognise the friendly countenances of the servants,
and above all, of the old nurse, to whom we were
all endeared, because it was while she attended my
mother that her health had so much improved.
But yet with such means of happiness, and in
the midst of enjoyments so well suited to my tem
per and disposition, I was not completely happy.
The melancholy to which I had from my childhood
been subject, at intervals oppressed me; and my
happiness was often poisoned by the reflection, that
at some time or other it must end.
The dislike which I had conceived for my fa
ther's business every day increased, and I earnestly
wished for some other employment. My indul
gent father readily yielded to my wishes, and, after
some consideration, it was determined that I should
enter into some department ofthe law. The Com
mons were first thought of; but it was afterwards
judged, by the friends whom my father consulted,
that a more advantageous situation for me would be
the office of the Six Clerks in Chancery. This was
accordingly decided on ; and, at the age of sixteen,
I was articled to Mr. William Michael Lally, one of
the sworn clerks in Chancery, for a period of five
years. The prejudice which Mr. Liddel had in
spired me with against all lawyers had been before
this time removed ; but if any vestige of it had
remained it must have yielded to the temper and
manners of Mr. Lally. A strong natural under
standing, improved by much general reading, and
much knowledge of the world, a high sense of
honour, the purest integrity, a very brilliant fancy;
great talents for conversation, an extraordinary

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 29
flow of spirits, and a most convivial disposition,
were the predominant characteristics of this amiable
and estimable man.
I had not, it was not possible indeed that I
should have, any accurate idea of the business of
a sworn clerk in Chancery till I had adopted it for
my profession. His business lies in a very narrow
compass : it consists almost entirely in making
copies of bills, answers, and other pleadings in
Chancery ; in receiving notices of motions to be
made in suits, and the service of orders pronounced
by the court, and transmitting them to the solicitors
ofthe different suitors; and in occasional attendance
upon the Court of Chancery at the hearing of eau ses,
and upon the masters in Chancery when they are
proceeding upon matters referred to them. Except
these attendances, all the business of a clerk in
court is transacted at a public office in Chancery
Lane. Mr. Lally acted, as indeed did most of the
other clerks, as a solicitor in Chancery as well as a
clerk in court ; and his business of a solicitor pro
cured me much more attendance upon the court,
and in the masters' offices, than I should have
otherwise had. In these occupations I found no
amusement, and took little interest ; but they still
left me a great deal of leisure. The office was
open only during certain hours of the day. In
the time of vacation, and in one season ofthe year
for three months together, no attendance was re
quired. The paternal house still continued to be
my home, and I still had the means of pursuing,
with little intermission, my favourite studies and
amusements. I had soon laid out the plan of my

30 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
future life, which was to follow my profession just
as far as was necessary for my subsistence, and to
aspire to fame by my literary pursuits. For a few
years I still cultivated the talent for poetry which
I supposed myself to possess. But insensibly, as
my judgment improved, my self-admiration abated;
I even grew dissatisfied with what I wrote, and
before I had attained my nineteenth year I had
the sense, and I may say the good taste, to wean
myself entirely from the habit of versifying. I
did not, however, relinquish the pleasing hope, for
such it was to me, of becoming a very distinguished
author. I began, therefore, to exercise myself in
prose compositions ; and, judging translations to be
the most useful exercise for forming a style, I
rendered into English the finest models of writing
that the Latin language afforded ; almost all the
speeches in Livy, very copious extracts from Ta
citus, the whole of Sallust, and many of the finest
passages in Cicero. With the same view of im
proving my style, I read and studied the best
English writers, Addison, Swift, Bolingbroke,
Robertson, and Hume, noting down every peculiar
propriety and happiness of expression which I met
with, and which I was conscious that I should not
have used myself.
While I was pursuing these studies with un
remitting zeal, I formed an acquaintance which
has had great influence on all the subsequent
events of my life. It was that of Mr. John Roget,
a clergyman and a native of Geneva, who had
then lately left that city, and had been elected mi
nister of the French chapel we attended. It was

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 31
no longer the gloomy building which I have de
scribed. Out of the permanent funds of the church
a new chapel had been erected upon a different
spot ; small indeed, and suited to the congregation,
but neat and cheerful. The difference between
the old and the new edifice was not greater than
between the newly elected preacher and his pre
decessor. Instead of the stammering monotony,
and the learned, but dry and tedious, dissertations of
Monsieur Coderc, we heard, from Roget, sermons
composed with taste and eloquence, and delivered
with great propriety and animation. He was, in
deed, possessed ofthe genuine sources of eloquence ;
an ardent mind, a rich imagination, and exquisite
sensibility. Immediately upon his arrival in Eng
land, he became acquainted with our family, and
that acquaintance soon grew into very great in
timacy with us all. He took pleasure in talking
with me about my studies ; used to give me great
encouragement to persevere in them ; and often
pronounced of the talents, which he supposed me
to possess, predictions that have never been ful
filled, but which, as is often the case with pro
phecies of another kind, had a strong tendency to
bring about their own accomplishment.
Roget was an admirer of the writings of his
countryman Rousseau, and he made me acquainted
with them. With what astonishment and delight
did I first read them ! I seemed transported into a
new world. His seducing eloquence so captivated
my reason, that I was blind to all his errors. I im
bibed all his doctrines, adopted all his opinions, and
embraced his system of morality with the fervour of

32 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
a convert to some new religion. That enthusiasm
has long since evaporated ; and though I am not
even now so cold and insensible, as to be able under
any circumstances to read his writings with an even
and languid pulse, and unmoistened eyes, yet Iam
never tempted to exclaim, Maio cum Platone errare,
quam cum aliis vera sentire, — a motto which I once
seriously inscribed in the first page of Emile. But
though the writings of Rousseau contain many
errors on the most important subjects, they may yet
be read with great advantage. There is, perhaps, no
writer so capable of inspiring a young mind with
an ardent love of virtue, a fixed hatred of op
pression, and a contempt for all false glory, as
Rousseau ; and I ascribe, in a great degree, to the
irrational admiration of him, which I once enter
tained, those dispositions of mind, from which I
have derived my greatest happiness throughout
life. In our family, Roget found a society well suited
to his taste. His visits to us became frequent ; his
conversation was uncommonly interesting, and he
had soon secured the friendship of us all. My sister
he inspired with warmer sentiments than those of
friendship. On his part, he was by no means
insensible to her merits, but he forbore for, some
time to offer his addresses to her. He had no
property but the very moderate income which his
church afforded him ; my sister's fortune, though
not large in itself, was comparatively large, and her
expectations were supposed to be much greater,
for my father, from his assiduity, the long time he
had been in business, his extensive dealings, and his

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 33
moderate expenses, was reputed to be possessed of
great wealth. Roget's intimate friends endeavoured
to dissuade him from making a proposal, which,
they said, they foresaw would be unfavourably
received ; they were, however, as much mistaken
with respect to my father's disposition as with
respect to his fortune. Upon the first mention of
Roget's addresses, my father declared, that, if they
had my sister's approbation, they had his ; he had
long before resolved never to resist, or even to
check, his daughter's inclinations. With respect to
Roget, however, it was not a case in which my
father was merely not to oppose ; he could not but
approve a marriage so well calculated to render a
beloved child happy ; and it was, sopn afterwards,
solemnized* to the great satisfaction of all our
family. There was one person, indeed, who, though not
of our family by blood, was from long intimacy and
mutual affection considered almost as a part of it,
to whom this event gave as much pain as it did
satisfaction to all the rest. This was a young man
ofthe name of Randolph Greenway. He had been
an apprentice to my father, and as such had lived
with us. He had afterwards travelled together
with my brother, upon a tour of seven or eight
months, on the continent ; and, upon his return, an
uncle, who was possessed of an estate of about
5001. a year in Oxfordshire, had died and left
him his heir. Though no longer living under
the same roof, we still continued in habits ofthe
greatest intimacy : he was of all our parties,s ac-
* On the 12th of February, 1778.
VOL. I. D

34' NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
companied us in our rides, in our walks; and
was always a welcome, and a happy guest at our
house. He had conceived, unknown to us all, a
warm affection for my sister : from the natural re
serve of his temper, or for some other cause which
I have never learned, he did not give the least in
timation of his affection to any one ; not even to
her who was the object Of it. The only expression
that ever dropped from him, which bespoke any
inclination to open his mind, was, during a visit,
which after his uncle's death, my father and mother,
together with my sister, made him at his house in
the country. In answer to a compliment which my
father paid him upon the appearance of his house,
and the air of comfort which prevailed in it, he
said, " Yes, sir, it wants nothing but a mistress."
My father, either from not understanding his
meaning, or from having determined not to con
trol or influence in any manner his daughter's
choice, remained silent ; and poor Greenway con
strued that silence into disapprobation of what he
supposed could not fail to be understood. My
sister certainly felt no affection for him, but she
highly esteemed him : his person was agreeable ; his
temper was even and amiable ; and he had an in
trinsic goodness of heart, a disinterestedness, a
generosity, and a sense of honour, which it was im
possible not to admire. Her heart, too, was at that
time disengaged, and, but for the most fatal reserve
on his part, he undoubtedly might have obtained
for his wife the woman, without whom, as it after
wards- appeared, it was impossible for him to live
and to be happy. He remained, however, silent ;

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 35
not an expression ever fell from him which could
lead to a discovery of his secret, not even to my
brother or myself, in our greatest intimacy. He
was a witness to Roget's being introduced into our
family ; marked the progress which he made in our
friendship ; observed the first dawning of affection
in my sister's breast ; watched the sentiments,
which she and Roget mutually entertained for
each other, growing up into attachment, affection
and the warmest passion ; and still observed the
most profound silence ; and it was not. till after the
marriage had been resolved on, that any of us dis
covered the cause of that melancholy which had
then long become apparent in him ; nor should
we, even then, have discovered it, but it would
perhaps have passed with him in silence into that
grave into which his misfortunes soon led him, but
for the most accidental circumstance.
One night, my brother and myself supped with
him, at the house of one of our friends. We stayed
very late, and drank a good deal of wine ; not
enough, however, to produce a visible effect on any
of us, but on poor Greenway. On him was pro
duced an effect the most extraordinary : his spirits
were not exhilarated, his reason was not clouded, or
his articulation impeded ; but the passions, which
had long preyed upon his mind, heightened and
inflamed, overcame at once the restraint which he
had long imposed on them, and burst out in the
most vehement expression. As we were walking
home, he talked in vague terms of his wretchedness,
till, unable to proceed, he sunk down on the steps
of a door; and there, in a transport of passion, and
d 2

36 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
in words, and with an accent that penetrated to the.
soul, expressed the cause and extent of his misery ;
and in a spirit of prophecy, which was but too
truly fulfilled, exclaimed, that he should never,
never again know what it was to be happy.
Immediately after the intended marriage of my
sister was made public, he entered into the Oxford
shire militia, which was then encamped, in the hope
that the bustle and novelty of a military life might
efface those recollections which were incompatible
with his peace of mind. But all was in vain. A
deep melancholy settled and preyed upon his mind.
Calamities the most dreadful, which in the course
of a few years afterwards happened in his own
family, increased this load of affliction. His mother
became disordered in her mind; one of his sisters
was affected with all the symptoms of a consump
tion ; and his brother became the subject of a public
prosecution. This last misfortune struck a blow to
his peace of mind, from which he never recovered.
I saw him, immediately after the news of it had
reached him, suffering tortures of the mind which
I have never witnessed before or since. He soon
afterwards set out upon a journey into France, in
the hope that a change of place, and of objects,
might relieve the anguish which he suffered ; but
it was to no purpose. Nothing could dissipate, for
a single moment, the gloom which hung upon him.
He had no sooner arrived in any town than he was
impatient to leave it ; and he hurried from place to
place, more dejected every day, and more declining
in his health, till, upon his arrival at Calais, on his
return, he was too ill to proceed any farther. His

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 37
companion in his travels * immediately wrote to
me to apprize me of his situation ; and with all
possible expedition I set out to join him. I trem
bled lest he should not have made a will, for I
knew the distressed state of his sisters, and that, if
he were to die intestate, all his estates would de
scend to the very brother who had shortened his
days. I arrived ; but too late for every thing but
to witness his last agonies. He turned upon me
his dying eyes, attempted to speak, but was unable,
and shortly after expired. The recollection of the
situation in which he left his family aggravated his
sufferings. He had twice attempted to make his
will, but found it impossible. In the delirium of
the fever which consumed him, he often exclaimed,
when disturbed by the noise of a hammering in the
court-yard of the inn where he lay, that he heard
they were preparing the rack for him. Unhappy
man ! the torments of his sensible and affectionate
mind were more poignant even than those of the
rack which he dreaded ; and yet he, whose destiny
it was thus exquisitely to suffer, had employed his
whole life in serving his friends, in acts of kindness,
humanity, and generosity, and had never done an
injury to any one, or entertained a sentiment but
of virtue and benevolence. His body was conveyed
to Canterbury, and now lies buried in the church
yard of the cathedral.
The worst evils to his family, which on his death
bed he anticipated, soon befell them. The brother
enjoyed the estate, and left the youngest of his
sisters (though her conduct had always been irre-
* Mr. Byrne, the engraver.
D 3

33 NARRATIVE OF 1757-78.
proachable) in a condition so wretched and desti
tute, that, but for the charity of one 1 of his friends,
who maintained her, she would have perished
through misery and hunger.
The melancholy fate of poor Green way has led
me much beyond the period to which I had brought
down the account of myself. I wished to conclude
his story before I proceeded with my own ; and I
have spared myself the frequent renewal of affliction,
by crowding into a few pages the miseries and the
daily sufferings of several years. From the time of
my sister's marriage, nay, from the time when it
was first in contemplation, he knew no happiness ;
but he lingered through seven tedious years, before
his sorrows laid him in the grave. He lived long
enough to see the instability of human happiness ;
and to witness the cruel misfortunes which over
whelmed those whom he had considered as com
pletely blessed.
But let me not anticipate other calamities ; let
me rather postpone them as long as possible, and
forget awhile that they are fast approaching, to live
over again and enjoy completely the too short
period of pure and unmixed happiness, which fol
lowed my sister's marriage. I had alwrays loved
her with the tenderest affection. I had conceived
for Roget the sincerest friendship, and their union
increased and enlivened these sentiments. I passed
most of my leisure hours with them, enjoying the
small but well selected society which frequented
i In an account book kept by him, during this period, and down to
1792, there are frequent entries of small sums paid by him to Miss
Greenway. — : Ed.

1757-78. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART I. 39
their house, and enjoying still more their convers
ation when alone.
I shall never forget the charms of our little
frugal suppers, at which none but us three were
present ; but where we never were at a loss for
topics that went to the hearts of all of us : where
each spoke without the least reserve, nay, where
each thought aloud, and was not only happy in
himself, but happy from the happiness of those.
most dear to him. Our happiness, indeed, was such
that it could hardly be increased ; but, if not in
creased, we might, at least, reckon upon its dura
tion ; the sources of our enjoyment were in our
selves, not dependant upon the gifts of fortune,
and not subject to the tyranny of opinion. We
were young ; myself, indeed, but just of age :
and many years, in the enjoyment of the purest
friendship and affection, seemed to be in store for
us. Vain, however, were these expectations ! our
happiness was as transient as it was pure.

d 4

40 NARRATIVE OF 1778-89.

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

1778—1789.
Tanhurst ', August 28. 1813.
?j^f ter an interval of seventeen years I am about
"to resume the task of writing my life ; a task un
dertaken in very different circumstances, and with
very different views, from those with which I now
resume it. When I began to set down the few
events of my unimportant history, I was living in
great privacy ; I was unmarried, and it seemed in
a very high degree probable that I should always
remain so. My life was wasting away with few
very lively enjoyments, and without the prospect
that my existence could ever have much influence
on the happiness of others ; or that I should leave
behind me any trace by which, twenty years after
I was dead, it could be known that ever I had lived.
But since that period, and within the last few
years, I have been in situations that were more
conspicuous ; and though it has never been my
good fortune to render any important service, either
to my fellow-creatures or to my country, yet, for a
short period of time, at least, some degree of public
attention has been fixed on me. It is, however,
with no view to the public that I am induced to
preserve any memorial of my life; but wholly from
1 A country house, in Surrey, on the side of Leith Hill. — Ed.

1778-89. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 41
private considerations. It is in my domestic life
that the most important changes have taken place.
For the last fifteen years, my happiness has been
the constant study of the most excellent of wjsresui
a woman in whom a strong understanding We---
noblest and most elevated sentiments, and tflp^bsjt
courageous virtue, are united to the warmes^af>-'.
fection, and to the utmost delicacy of minffiSJfid.
tenderness of heart; and all these intellectual peri^
fections are graced and adorned by the most spleri^ "^
did beauty that human eyes ever beheld. She has
borne to me seven children, who are living ; and
in all of whom I persuade myself -that I discover
the promise of their, one day, proving themselves
not unworthy of such a mother. Some of them
are of so tender an age that I can hardly hope
that I shall live till their education is finished, and
much less that I shall have the happiness to see
them established in life ; and of some it is not im
probable that I may be taken from them while
they are yet of such tender years that, as they ad
vance in life, they may retain but little recollection
of their father. To these, and even to my dear
wife, if, as I devoutly wish, she should many years
survive me, it may be a source of great satisfaction
to turn over these pages ; to learn or to recollect
what I was, what I have done, with whom I have
lived, and to whom I have been known. Such is
the information that these pages will afford, and
they will, I fear, afford nothing more. Of instruc
tion there is but little that they can supply : what
to shun or what to pursue, is that of which a life,
so little chequered with events as mine, can hardly

42 NARRATIVE OF 1778:
present any very striking lessons. I have been in
no trying situations ; the force of my character has
never been called forth ; I have fallen into no very
egregious faults, and I have had the good fortune
to escape those situations which generally lead to
them ; but, from the pious affection which may
have been instilled into my children's minds, they
may set a considerable value, and take a lively in
terest in facts which, to the rest of mankind, must
appear altogether insipid and indifferent. It is,
therefore, to enjoy conversation with my children,
at a time when I shall be incapable of conversing
with any one ; and to live with them, as it were,
long after I shall have descended into the grave,
that I proceed with this narrative of my life. It is
surrounded by these children in their happy infant
state ; cheered with the little sallies of their wit ;
exhilarated with their spirits ; become youthful, as
it were, by their youth ; and transported at some
times discovering in them the dawnings of their
mother's virtues ; it is in the repose of a short pe
riod of leisure after unusual fatigues in my pro
fession ; it is in a fine season, in the midst of a
beautiful country, with some of the richest and
most luxuriant scenes of nature spread before me :
it is in the midst of all these sources of enjoyment
and of happiness, that I sit down to this pleasing
employment. Writing of times so long past, my memory may
sometimes fail me (for till within the last seven
years I have never kept any journal, but while I
was travelling) ; it can be, however, only in trifles
that it can fail ; and even as to matters the most

1778. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 43
trifling, I shall endeavour most strictly and re
ligiously to adhere to truth.
When my former narrative broke off, I think
(for I have it not at this moment before me)
I was serving Mr. Lally as his articled clerk.
I had never, during my clerkship, thought very
seriously of engaging in the line of the profession
for which that noviciate was intended to qualify
me. To distinguish myself in some literary career
was the chimerical hope which I had long in
dulged ; and I had once even supposed that I might
become illustrious as a poet ; but this delusion was
not of long duration. The important moment,
however, had arrived when it was necessary to
come to a decision, upon the prudence or folly of
which my future fate was to depend. The en
couragement I had received from Roget had very
strongly inclined me not only to continue in the
profession, but to look up to a superior rank in it ;
and, although I had yet taken no step whatever
towards such an object, I could not, now that it
was requisite to decide, persuade myself to decide
against it. With the exception, however, of
Roget, I believe most of my friends thought it a
hazardous and imprudent step ; Mr. Lally deemed
it so in a very high degree. He did not, indeed,
undervalue my talents, though I believe he did
not rate them very high ; but he thought my diffi
dence invincible, and such as must alone oppose
an insurmountable bar to my success. He had,
however, the generosity not to urge his objections
with the force with which he felt them. He
thought himself interested in my decision, since,

44 NARRATIVE OF 1778.
being desirous himself of retiring from business, it
was of him that I should naturally purchase a seat
in the Six Clerks' office, for it is by purchase only
that these situations are obtained. Others of my
friends thought that, whatever my talents might
be, and even if my modesty could be overcome,
yet my delicate health was hardly equal to the
laborious course of study which I was about to
undertake ; and I had very kind intimations of
this from many of my friends ; but I do not recol
lect that I had a direct remonstrance on the folly
of what I was doing from any one. My good-
natured father (too good-natured perhaps in this
instance) hardly interposed his advice ; he left
every thing to my own decision ; and that decision
was to renounce the Six Clerks' office for ever, and,
as the only other course that was left me, to aspire
to a higher fortune. What principally influenced this
decision was, that it enabled me to leave in my
father's hands my little fortune (the 2000/. legacy),
and the share of the residue (perhaps 700/. or
800/. more) which M. De la Haize had left me ;
and which I knew it would be very inconvenient
to him that I should call for ; but which would
have been indispensably necessary, if I had pur
chased a sworn clerk's seat, 2000/. being about the
price which it would cost. This consideration, I
am sure, had no weight with my father, in his ac
quiescing in my resolution ; but it was decisive
with me in farming it ; and it is not the only
instance of my life in which a decision, which was
to have most important consequences, has been
taken principally to avoid a present inconvenience.

1778- HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 45
Even with a view, however, to my father's pecu
niary circumstances, the determination I took was
hardly to be justified : because, however incon
venient to him the immediate payment of the
money might have been, yet it would have secured
to me, without the possibility of risk, an income
much larger than I had then occasion for ; and
with which I might, in the course of a few years,
have replaced as large or a larger sum in his hands.
The course of life I was entering upon, on the con
trary, insured expense ; and postponed all prospect
of profit certainly for five years, and probably for
a much longer period. At a later season of my
life, after a success at the bar which my wildest
and most sanguine dreams had never painted to me ;
when I was gaining an income of 8000/. or 9000/.
a year ; I have often reflected how all that pro
sperity had arisen out of the pecuniary difficulties
and confined circumstances of my father. There
was another circumstance, which, though a trifling
one, I ought to mention ; for it certainly had some,
though I cannot at this distance of time recollect
how great an influence over the judgment which
I exercised. The works of Thomas had fallen
into my hands : I had read with admiration his
Eloge of Daguesseau ; and the career of glory,
which he represents that illustrious magistrate to
have run, had excited to a very great degree my
ardour and my ambition, and opened to my imagin
ation new paths of glory.
I had completed my twenty-first year before my
resolution was taken, and at this late period of life
I entered myself of the Society of Gray's Inn ;

46 NARRATIVE OF 1778.
took there a very pleasant set of chambers, which
overlooked the gardens ; arranged my little col
lection of books about me, and began with great
ardour the painful study of the law. My good
friend, Mr. Lally, advised me to become the pupil
of some Chancery draftsman for a couple of years;
and, for the first year, to confine myself merely to
reading under his direction and with his assistance.
This advice I followed, and placed myself under
the guidance of Mr. Spranger. I was the only pupil
he ever had; and, indeed, his drawing business
was tiardly sufficient fo give employment, even to
a single pupil. I did not, however, repent of the
step I had taken* I passed all my mornings and
part of most of my evenings at his house. He
had a very good library, which I had the use of; he
directed my reading ; he explained what I did not
understand ; he removed many of the difficulties
I met with ; and, what was of no small advantage
to me, I formed a lasting friendship with this very
kind-hearted and excellent man, who was uni
versally esteemed, and who had a high character
in the profession.
As I read, I formed a common-place book ;
which has been of great use to me, even to the
present day. It is, indeed, the only way in which
law reports can be read with much advantage.
It was not, however, to law alone that I confined
my studies. I endeavoured to acquire much general
knowledge. I read a great deal of history ; I went
on improving myself in the classics ; I translated,
composed, and endeavoured (though I confess with
a success little proportioned to the pains I took)

1778. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 47
to form for myself a correct and an elegant style ;
I translated the whole of Sallust, and a great part of
Livy, Tacitus, and Cicero ; I wrote political essays,
and often sent them without my name to the news
papers, and was not a little gratified to find them
always inserted ; above all, I was anxious to acquire
a great facility of elocution, whrch I thought in
dispensably necessary for my success. Instead,
however, of resorting to any of those debating
societies which were at this time much frequented,
I adopted a very useful expedient, which I found
suggested in Quinctilian ; that of expressing to my
self, in the best language I could, whatever I had
been reading ; of using the arguments I had met
with in Tacitus or Livy, and making with them
speeches of my own, not uttered, but composed and
existing only in thought. Occasionally, too, I at
tended the two Houses of Parliament ; and used
myself to recite in thought, or to answer the
speeches I had heard there. That I might lose no
time, I generally reserved these exercises for the
time of my walking or riding ; and, before long,
I had so well acquired the habit of it, that I
could think these compositions as I was passing
through the most crowded streets.
The very close application with which I pursued
my studies proved at last injurious to my health.
There were other causes, too, which tended to
impair it. Among the principal of these was the
great anxiety I long felt for my sister and her
husband. The happiness they enjoyed upon their
marriage was as pure, and as complete, as is ever
the portion of human beings ; but it was of very

48 NARRATIVE OF 1779;
short duration. They were blessed with one
sweet child to increase that happiness ; but not
long after the joyful event of his birth, in the
spring of 1779, and just when I had projected to
pass the approaching summer with them in a
lodging they had taken at Fulham, and when we
had begun to carry our project into execution,
Roget was seized with an inflammation of the
lungs, attended with a violent spitting of blood,
and with other symptoms so alarming, that his
life appeared to be in the most imminent danger.
As the only chance of saving him, his physician
recommended that he should be removed to his
native air ; and he, soon afterwards set out for
Geneva. But he set out in such a state, and the
violence of his disease so much increased upon the
journey, that it soon appeared very doubtful whether
he would ever be able to reach the end of it. A
situation more distressing than my sister's can hardly
be imagined. Separated for the first time completely
from her family, in a foreign country, amongst
strangers, without even an attendant ; exposed to
all the inconveniences of wretched inns, and des
titute of all medical assistance in which she could
place any confidence, she was doomed to watch
the progress of a terrible disease, undermining and
gaining every day upon the strength of a husband,
on whom she doted with the fondest affection.
Her letters during this journey, and after it had
terminated, written with a simplicity and a re
signation which were celestial, but in which it was
impossible for her to conceal the torment of mind
which she suffered and the constant alarms she

1780. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 49
entertained, pierced me to the heart ; and the dread
of what she probably had still to undergo preyed
continually on my mind.
Roget arrived, at last, with my sister at Geneva ;
but it seemed as if he had arrived only to die there ;
and it was long, very long, before their prospects at
all brightened, and before they ventured to flatter
themselves with any hopes.
The declining state of my own health induced
me to take medical advice. My stomach was par
ticularly disordered, and my physician advised me
to try the waters of Bath ; and accordingly, in the
spring of 17S0, I passed six weeks at that place.
There happened, soon after I arrived there, to be
an auction of a law library, at which I bought
many books. With this supply I continued my
studies, and probably too closely : I drank too
much of the water ; I was advised by an apothecary
there to try the bath : I followed that advice, but
I went into the bath when it was too hot, I stayed
in it too long, and in a short time, by these various
means, I found myself in a much worse state than
that in which I had left town. The disorder in my
stomach was all I had then to complain of; but now
I was disordered throughout my whole frame. I
was incapable of walking half a mile without ex
cessive fatigue. Any exertion either of mind or
body produced the most distressing palpitation of
my heart. My nights were sleepless, my days
restless and agitated. My apprehensions for the
future were the most gloomy. Having heard at
Bath of persons who had never recovered from the
relaxed and nervous habit into which an intem-
VOL. 1. e

50 NARRATIVE OF 1780.
perate use of the hot bath had reduced them, I
persuaded myself that such was my destination. I
imagined that my whole life (and I feared it
might . be a long one) would drag on in my then
state, useless to all mankind and burdensome to
myself; and I entertained strong apprehensions
that my disorder might end in madness.
Under the pressure of all these real and imagi*
nary ills, I returned to town. Sir William Watson,
my physician, endeavoured to repair all the mischief
I had been doing. He made me use the cold
bath, and drink the chalybeate waters of Islington :
and he recommended me for a time to relinquish
alf study; but this recommendation was unneces
sary, for my constant restlessness and uneasiness
made it impossible for me to fix my attention upon
any thing.
Gradually I got better ; but my health had not
made any considerable progress, when I was
obliged to undergo bodily fatigues which threw me
back again, and left me in a very deplorable state.
In the beginning of June broke out that most ex
traordinary insurrection, excited by Lord George
Gordon, which has hardly any parallel in our
history. In a moment of profound peace and of
perfect security, the metropolis found itself on a
sudden abandoned, as it were, to the plunder and
the fury of a bigoted and frantic populace. The
prisons were broken open and burned ; and their
inhabitants — debtors, men accused of crimes, and
convicted felons — indiscriminately turned loose upon
the public, and received into the first ranks of their
deliverers to assist in further acts of devastation.

1780. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 51
One night, the flames were seen ascending from
nine or ten different conflagrations, kindled by
these unresisted insurgents. The Inns of Court
were marked out as objects of destruction ; and
Gray's Inn, in which many Catholics resided, was
particularly obnoxious. Government, which had
acted with extraordinary irresolution at first, took at
last very vigorous measures to put a stop to these
disgraceful outrages. In the mean time, however,
it had become necessary for every man to trust to
himself for his security ; and the barristers and
students of the different Inns of Court determined
to arm themselves in their own defence. The
state of my health rendered me quite unequal to
so great an exertion. I was ashamed, however, of
being ill at such a season. I did therefore as
others did; was up a whole night under arms, and
stood as sentinel for several hours at the gate in
Holborn. This fatigue, and the excessive heat of the wea
ther, threw me back into a worse state of health
than ever. I was so relaxed that I could hardly
stand; I had, from mere weakness, continual pains
in all my limbs. My nights were restless; and if
the continual agitation of my fibres would have
permitted me to sleep, the pulsation of my heart,
which was continually sensible to me, and which
was visible through my clothes when I was dressed,
would have prevented me. I hurried out of town
to try the effect of sea air; found myself worse, and
hastened back again. Very slow indeed was my
recovery. Throughout the whole of the following
winter I was incapable of walking more than a
E 2

52 NARRATIVE OF 1780.
mile at a time. My studies I was obliged almost
entirely to lay aside. I read little but for my
amusement, and rather by way of diverting my
thoughts from my malady, and from the melancholy
prospect that I had before me, than with any view to
my improvement. It was at this time, and with this
object, that I began to read Italian; and I certainly
found considerable entertainment in the novelties.
which the literature of Italy presented to me.
My constitution seemed so much altered, I felt
so sensibly and so very disagreeably every change of
the atmosphere, and this had lasted so long, that
I continued strongly possessed with the idea that
my health was irrecoverably lost ; that for the
rest of my days I should be a wretched valetudina
rian ; and that the bright prospects of success in
my profession, in which I had sometimes indulged,
were shut out from me for ever. Such I con
tinued throughout the winter, and during the fol
lowing spring. Fortunately for me, an occasion
presented itself, early in the summer, which tempted
me to go abroad.
When Roget's deplorable state of health com
pelled him and my sister to quit this country, they
had been obliged to leave their child, an infant
then not a year old, behind them. They had in
tended to be absent but for a few months ; but they
were soon convinced that a return to this country,
if ever to be ventured on, could not, without the
greatest danger, be undertaken for several years ;
and, with this sad conviction, they had naturally
become very impatient to have their child restored
to them. My most affectionate father had grown

1781. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 53
dotingly fond of his little grandson ; and though he
would reluctantly resign him to the hands of my
poor sister, who in a foreign country, and with a
sick husband, stood in great need of such a con
solation, yet he would not consent to commit his
little charge to the care only of strangers, or of a
servant, for so long a journey. I offered, therefore,
to convey him, and deliver him into the hands of
his parents; and this offer was very thankfully, on
all sides, accepted.
His nursery maid was of course to go with him,
and, as the best mode of conveyance for such a
party, and the most economical too (which was
a consideration very important to be attended
to), we put ourselves under the care of one of those
Swiss voituriers, who were at that time in the habit
of convoying parties of six or eight persons to any
part of Switzerland. Our party consisted of seven:
a Mr. Bird, who was going to Turin ; a Mr.
Barde, a Genevese ; a young man of the name of
Broughton ; a little effeminate Englishman, whose
name I do not recollect; the nursery maid, the child,
and myself.* It was a time of war, and we were
therefore obliged to pass through the Low Countries;
and, as is necessary in this mode of travelling, which
is performed with the same horses, we made short
and easy journeys of not more than thirty or forty
miles a day, which gave us an opportunity of seeing
all the objects of curiosity that lay upon our road.
The improvement of my health and spirits as I
proceeded, the great variety of places we passed
through, and the novelty of every thing I saw, made
* We set out June 16. 1781.
E 3

54 NARRATIVE OF 1781.
it to me a most delightful journey. I shall never
forget the impression I received on first landing at
Ostend; and, afterwards, upon entering the magni
ficent city of Ghent: every human creature," every
building, every object of superstition, almost every
thing that I beheld, attracted my notice, and ex
cited and gratified my curiosity.
We pursued our course through Brussels, Namur,
Longwy, Metz, Nancy, Plombieres, and Besan^on,
to Lausanne, where I delivered safely their little
boy to Roget and my sister.
Ifound Roget much better than I had expected;
obliged, indeed, to live by the strictest rule, and
compelled to make his health* the subject of his
continual care and attention, but well enough to
enjoy the society of a few friends, and to amuse
himself with literary pursuits. He had formed the
project of ^writing a history of the American war,
and it served to employ very agreeably many hours
of the few last years of his life ; but he did not live
long enough to complete the work, or even to
make any considerable progress in it. His friend
ship for me, and the favourable opinion he had en
tertained of my talents, had been greatly increased
by absence, and by the numerous and long letters
which had, during that absence, passed between us.
My success at the bar he considered as certain ;
and, knowing what that success leads to in Eng
land, he spoke of my future destination with a
degree of exultation arid enthusiasm, which re
kindled those hopes that had for some time been
nearly extinguished in my mind. The recollection
of one of these conversations, which took place as

1781. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 55
we were walking upon the terrace of his garden
one fine summer night, when not a cloud appeared
upon the atmosphere to intercept the effulgence of
the stars scattered over every part of the heavens,
has since a thousand times occurred to me, and is
now as fresh in my memory as if it had been an
event of yesterday. Scarcely anything, indeed, that
I saw, or- heard, or read, during the six weeks that
I passed in this delightful retirement, have I since
" forgotten. The situation was one of the most beautiful that
imagination could paint. It was about a mile from
Lausanne, and at a considerable eminence above it,
commanding a most extensive view of that enchant
ing country, with the lake of Geneva stretching
out to its whole extent, and bounded by the lofty
and rude mountains of Savoy. Never could there
be a clearer refutation of the common saying, that
the most beautiful objects by familiarity tire upon
the sight, than what I here experienced. The
window of my room commanded this sublime pros
pect : every day I gazed upon it with fresh rap
ture ; and the last time that I beheld it, its beauty
kindled in me the same pious admiration as the
first. From Lausanne I proceeded to Geneva, where
I made a stay of only about a month ; but, during
that short residence, I saw so great a variety of
persons, and I saw so much of them, that I de
rived as much profit as I could under other cir
cumstances from a much longer residence. It was
in the midst of those political contests which, soon
afterwards, ended so fatally for that republic. I
e 4

56 NARRATIVE OF 1781.
lived with Chauvet, who was deeply engaged with
the popular party, and was one of those who, upon
the aristocratical faction becoming triumphant,
was banished the republic. Duroveray, formerly
attorney-general of the republic, a man of great
talents, but unfit from his unconciliatory man
ners to be the leader of a party ; Claviere, after
wards for a short time, and at a very unhappy
season, minister of finance in France, possessed of
considerable abilities, and a man of unbounded
ambition, though wholly deficient in courage to
gratify it ; and Reybaz, of a better judgment,
of more extensive knowledge, and of more solid
talents, but equally wanting in courage ; were
amongst the foremost of those who conducted the
measures of the popular party. Politics, though
they served to bring out the characters of indi
viduals, and display all the variety of dispositions
incident to mankind, had, in some respects, con
siderably hurt the society of Geneva. Politics had
engrossed what before was given to literature.
The society of Geneva must, indeed, judging of it
even under all the disadvantages in which I saw
it, have been at one time highly interesting. It
had the liveliness of French conversation without
its frivolity, and the good sense of England, with
a refined literary taste formed by an intimate
and familiar acquaintance with the writings of
Rousseau and Voltaire, to which we have no pre
tensions. I was very desirous, while I thus passed through
foreign countries, to inform myself as well as I
could of their laws, particularly their criminal law,

1781. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 57
and their mode of administering justice. While I
was at Geneva, an opportunity presented itself of
learning the manner of conducting criminal trials
there, which few travellers have had the good for
tune to meet with. The proceedings, as in most
other parts ofthe Continent, are secret ; and none
but the prisoner, his counsel, and two friends
named by him to assist him, are permitted to be
present when the cause is pleaded. It happened,
before I arrived here, that a burglary had been
committed by a gang of Savoyards, of whom three
were seized, and the rest, three more in number,
had made their escape. A criminal trial of any
kind was, at this time, in this little republic, of very
rare occurrence, and always excited an interest
proportioned to its novelty. The advocates of the
highest reputation were accustomed to afford their
gratuitous assistance to the accused, and to con
duct their defence with as much care and zeal as
the wealthiest and most liberal client could desire.
I was acquainted with one of the advocates upon
this occasion ; and he suggested to one of the pri
soners, who was a stranger in Geneva, to name me
to assist him. Before I was admitted to be his
assistant, I was obliged to take an oath before one
of the syndics (the chief magistrates of the re
public), that I would not give, or suffer to be taken,
copies of any papers in the cause ; and that I would
return to the court, immediately after the cause
should be ended, all the copies or extracts which
I might have made for my own use. All the pri
soners were found guilty ; but their sentences varied
according to the degree of evidence which had ap-

58 NARRATIVE OF 1781.
peared against each. One, a lad of sixteen, was
sentenced to be whipt, and then to be sent to the
galleys for twenty years (the French Government
having some time since agreed to take all the cri
minals of the republic to work in their galleys).
Another was condemned to be present while his
companion was whipt, and then to be banished
the territory of the republic for life ; and the
doom ofthe third was merely banishment. As to
the three accomplices, who had escaped, they were
sentenced to be whipt in effigy ; which was exe
cuted by the pictures of men being whipt, with
the names of the offenders inscribed under them,
being carried round the city.
During this residence at Geneva, I formed a
friendship with a young man about my own age,
of the name of Dumont, who was then studying
for the church, and was soon after admitted one
of its ministers. Roget, who had been long ac
quainted with him, had spoken to each of us in
such favourable terms of the other that we were
desirous of becoming friends before we had met ;
and a personal acquaintance, improved by a little
tour we made together to the glaciers of Savoy,
arid round the lake of Geneva by the Tete Noire,
Martigny, Bex, and Vevey, was soon matured into
a very intimate and firm friendship, which remains
to this day, increased and strengthened by the
number of years during which it has lasted. His
vigorous understanding, his extensive knowledge,
and his splendid eloquence, qualified him to have
acted the noblest part in public life ; while the
brilliancy of his wit, the cheerfulness of his hu-

1781. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 59
mour, and the charms of his conversation, have
made him the delight of every private society in
which he has lived : but his most valuable qualities
are, his strict integrity, his zeal to serve those
whom he is attached to, and his most affectionate
disposition. While I was in this enchanting country, I made
several little excursions to see and admire its
beauties ; amongst others to the Lac de Joux, to
Evian, and the rocks of Meillerie ; and one, which
more than all the rest' made a deep impression on
me, to the summit of the Dent d'Oche, a very
high mountain of Savoy on the southern bank of
the lake of Geneva. The ascent is very difficult,
and for that reason, perhaps, it is seldom visited by
strangers ; but the prospect it affords is the most
beautiful and the most sublime that ever I beheld :
the lake of Geneva stretched out to its whole
extent with the rich country of the Pays de
Vaud and its numerous towns, on the one side,
and the Alps of Savoy on the other, like a vast sea
of mountains, terminated by the distant Mont
Blanc, towering far above the rest. It was
after this expedition that, crossing the lake, I
again paid a short visit to Lausanne, and took
leave of my sister and of Roget. The preca
rious state of his health, and the prospect of the
renewal of my own studies, and of the occupations
which I hoped might follow them, made both of
us apprehensive, of what proved but too true, that
we were bidding each other an everlasting fare
well. Upon quitting this country, I made a party with

60 NARRATIVE OF 1781.
three other persons* to visit the Grande Char
treuse, intending from thence to get the best way
I could to Lyons, and to return home by way
of Paris, which I was desirous of seeing. I have
since often regretted that I did not extend my
travels, and allow myself to visit at least some of
the cities in the northern part of Italy. Per
haps, however, I did well to resist the temptation
which this opportunity held out to me. The pro
longation, for a few months more, of this inter
ruption of all regular habits of study might have
had very serious consequences to me, and have
disappointed all my future schemes. Our road
to the Grande Chartreuse lay through a very
beautiful country ; and we had an opportu
nity of visiting Chambery, the capital of Savoy.
The wild and romantic scenery of the Chartreuse
has been often celebrated. I saw it to some dis
advantage ; for though it was early in September,
we had so deep a fall of snow, and which lasted so
long, that the roads became impassable, and for
three days-we were obliged to prolong our stay with
the hospitable fathers against our will. Amongst
the travellers collected together, there were two
young French officers ; one of whom was going to
Lyons, and I joined his company. We proceeded
together on mules to Grenoble, and there hired a
cabriolet, which conveyed us to Lyons. At that
place we parted : and I proceeded to Paris in the
diligence or messagerie, a large carriage contain
ing eight inside passengers ; not a very convenient
* M. Juventin, pasteur of Geneva ; M. de Vegobre, an advocate
there ; and Mr. Shore, a young Englishman, who was at Geneva for
his education.

1781. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 61
or a very elegant conveyance, but one which
was well suited to my humble circumstances,
and in which much more is to be learnt of the
manners of a people, than by being shut up in
a commodious English carriage, and travelling
post. Arrived at Paris, I left my luggage at the
Bureau des diligences ; and set off on foot to
inquire my way through the street for an hotel at
the other end of the town, to which I had got a
direction. It was in the Rue de Richelieu, and in
a very pleasant situation, the back windows look
ing upon the gardens of the Palais Royal ; for a
garden it then was, though the Duke of Orleans,
to the great indignation of the Parisians, was pre
paring to cover it with buildings. At Paris I saw
all that common travellers see, the theatres, the
palaces, the public buildings^ collections of pictures,
and other objects of curiosity. I saw, too, the
court in all its splendour ; and I was present at the
Royal Chapel at Versailles when high mass was
celebrated before the king,
An event happened while I was there which
showed Paris to great advantage ; this was the
birth of a Dauphin, after the Queen had been
married several years without having had a son.
Great public rejoicings took place. The theatres
were thrown open to the people with gratuitous
representations ; and at the Comedie Francaise they
were indulged with the adventures of Henry IV.,
their good and favourite King. There were public
illuminations too, but these were commanded ; and
I felt no small surprise when I read placarded in
the corners of the streets the mandate by which

62 NARRATIVE OF 1781.
the loyal people of Paris were ordered to shut up
their shops, and to illuminate their houses for three
successive nights, and the officers of the police
were enjoined to see the order executed. The
illurnination corresponded with its cause ; and in
many a house I observed one solitary lamp at each
window glimmering, not in token of joy, but in
reluctant obedience to the pleasure of the govern
ment. The public buildings, however, were splendid ;
and in most of the large squares were orchestras
and bands of music, which played to the dancing
of the people. The Place de Greve was (as I
thought unfortunately) chosen as the favourite
scene of these amusements. The Hotel de Ville"
was resplendent with lamps. Fire-works were
played off before it ; and to the music of four
different orchestras were as many parties of dirty
and ragged creatures dancing, with as much life
and gaiety as if they were in a theatre devoted
only to mirth and joy. For myself, I confess that
my cheerfulness was not a little damped by the
squalid appearance of the dancers ; by the soldiers
ranged on every side ; by the sudden appearance,
from time to time, ofthe horse patrol (marechaussee)
silently and unexpectedly making their way through
the thickest of the crowd ; and by the recollection
that the ground on which I stood was the com
mon place of execution, which had been so often
wet with blood, and had so often witnessed the
lengthened agonies of tortured wretches expiring
in flames, or upon the wheel.
The King went to Notre Dame in great state to
return thanks to God for the birth of his son. The

1781. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 63
scene was a very splendid one, and the crowds
which pressed on every side to see the royal pro
cession pass, were immense. Only eight years after
wards I was present at a ceremony accompanied
with the same military pomp, and beheld with the
same eager curiosity by many of the same specta
tors, but which was of a very different kind ; it
was when, in the same church, the colours of the
National Guard of Paris received the benediction
of the archbishop, and when a patriotic sermon was
preached on the occasion by the Abb6 Fauchet.
I saw at Paris a great variety of persons ; ar
tists, advocates, and authors. Amongst these were
D' Alembert and Diderot, the most celebrated of all
the writers then remaining in France. D' Alembert
was in a very infirm state of health, and not dis
posed to enter much into conversation with a per
son so shy and so unused to society as I was.
Diderot, on the contrary, was all > warmth and
eagerness, and talked to me with as little reserve
as if I had been long and intimately acquainted
with him. Rousseau, politics, and religion, were
the principal topics of his conversation. The Con
fessions of Rousseau were, at that time, expected
• shortly to appear ; and it was manifest, from the
bitterness with which Diderot spoke of the work
and of its author, that he dreaded its appearance.
On the subject of religion he made no dis
guise ; or rather he was ostentatious of a total
disbelief in the existence of a God. He talked
very eagerly upon politics, and inveighed with
great warmth against the tyranny of the French
government. He told me that, he had long

64 NARRATIVE OF 1781.
meditated a work upon the death of Charles the
First ; that he had studied the trial of that prince ; v
arid that his intention was to have tried him over
again, and to have sent him to the scaffold if he
had found him guilty, but that he had at last relin
quished the design. In England he would have
executed it, but he had not the courage to do so in
France. D' Alembert, as I have observed, was more cau
tious ; he contented himself with observing what
an effect philosophy had in his-own time produced
on the minds of the people. The birth of the
Dauphin afforded him an example. He was old
enough, he said, to remember when such an event
had made the whole nation drunk with joy*; but
now they regarded with great indifference the birth
of another master.
I must not quit the subject of my abode at Paris
without the mention of two acquaintances I formed
there, for to them I owed the most agreeable hours
I- passed in that celebrated city. The one was a
person of my own name, a watchmaker, who then
lived in the Place Dauphine, a Genevese, of the
age of seventy, but who had all the gaiety and
vivacity of youth. He was a man of very great
merit in his business, had seen a great deal of the
world, and was not without a considerable portion
of literature. All the articles upon the subject of
his own art, which are to be found in the Encyclo
pedic, were his. He conceived himself to be under
obligations to my family, on account of the great
kindness which his son had received during his
* This was in 1729. " On etait dans une iyresse de joie."

1781. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 65
residence in London at the hands of my father.
The son had been elected a minister of one of the
French Protestant churches in London ; but ill
health forced him to return to Geneva, where he
died about a year before I arrived there. He was
the author of two articles in the Encyclope'die,
"Toleration" and "Virtue," which had very great
celebrity. These, and two volumes of sermons,
which were published after his death, attest the
merits of that extraordinary man. He was the
delight of the societies in which he lived, and his
good-natured repartees were in every body's recol
lection at Geneva when I visited it. Nothing
could exceed the zeal of this good old M. Romilly
to serve me while I was at Paris, or the attentions
which were paid me by his family, particularly
his son-in-law and his daughter, M. et Made de
Corancez. It was to them I was indebted for my
introduction to D'Alembert and Diderot, and for
all the society I knew at Paris ; which was confined,
however, to the bourgeoisie, and to the descriptions
of persons I have before enumerated.
The other valuable acquaintance which I have
said that I formed at Paris was that of Made
Delessert, one of the most benevolent and amiable
of women. She was from Switzerland ; was, as long
as Rousseau saw any body, one of his best friends ;
and it is to her that were addressed the charming
Letters on Botany which, since his death, have been
published. She had a large collection of other
letters from him, of some of which she permitted
me to take copies. At her country house at Passy,
in her society, and in that of her amiable daughter,
VOL. I. F

66 NARRATIVE OF 1781.
then a girl of fifteen, of a very agreeable person and
of a very cultivated understanding, I spent most
usefully the time I passed at Paris. There is no
thing, indeed, by which I have through life more
profited than by the just observations, the good
opinion, and the sincere and gentle encouragement
of amiable and sensible women.
I returned to London by way of Lisle and
Ostend, still travelling in public carriages, having
greatly benefited in every respect by my short
travels. My health particularly was very much
improved ; though I still occasionally, during the
winter, felt the effects of my former maladies.
I was able, however, to resume my studies with
great ardour, and I prosecuted them with consider
able success. Soon after my return, I published,
in The Morning Chronicle, a tolerably detailed
account of the late political events at Geneva,
which I had written while I was there.
There was a young man of my own age, a stu
dent and an inhabitant of Gray's Inn, with whom
I, about this time, formed a great degree of inti
macy. His great talents, and his learning as a
classical scholar, as an English antiquary, and as a
profound lawyer, must, if he had lived, have raised
him to very great eminence in his profession ;
though his honest and independent spirit would,
probably, to him have barred all access to its
highest offices. This was John Baynes. He was
a native of the West Riding of Yorkshire ; had
received his early education at Richmond in that
county; and had afterwards very much distinguished
himself both in mathematics and in the classics in

1783. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 67
the University of Cambridge, where he became a
fellow of Trinity College. A man more high-
spirited, more generous, more humane, more dis
posed to protect the feeble against the oppression
of the powerful and the great, never adorned the
annals of England. His premature death, which
happened five or six years after the time I am
speaking of, I have always considered as a very
great public loss. To our profession, particularly,
the loss of such a man, and in such a state of the
profession as that in which it happened, was the
greatest that it could suffer. The intimacy which
I formed with this excellent man soon ripened
into the firmest friendship. We prosecuted our
studies together ; we communicated to each other,
and compared the notes which we took during our
attendance in the courts. We used to meet at night
at each other's chambers to read some of the clas
sics, particularly Tacitus, in whom we Tboth took
great delight ; and we formed a little society, to
which we admitted only two other persons, Holroyd
and Christian, for arguing points of law upon ques
tions which we suggested in turn. One argued on
each side as counsel, the other two acted the part
of judges, and were obliged to give at length the
reasons of their decisions ; an exercise which was,
certainly, very useful to us all.
On the last day of Easter Term, 1783, I was
called to the bar. It was my intention to have
gone a circuit, but this I was obliged to postpone
till the ensuing spring.
Roget, whose health had continued very pre
carious from the time when I left him, had, early in
F 2

68 NARRATIVE OF 1783.
the present summer, a fresh attack of his disorder,
which in a few weeks proved fatal to him. His
death happened at a most unfortunate time for my
poor sister, for it was when she had been brought
to bed only six weeks of her daughter. Never did
any woman adore a husband with more passionate
fondness than she did hers ; never had anxiety
surpassed that with which she had been tortured
during the different periods of his long disease ;
and never was affliction greater than that which she
now endured. My father and all our family were
veiy impatient that she should return to us from
the strange land in which her melancholy lot had
been cast. But with two children, and one of so
very tender an age, and with no companion but her
maid, it was an alarming journey to undertake.
My brother was married, and was entirely occupied
by his business. There was no person who could,
without th*e greatest inconvenience, attend her on
such a journey but myself, and I therefore under
took it ; it was only losing one circuit, and it was
rendering a very essential service to all those whom
I most loved and valued.
Baynes was desirous of seeing Paris, and agreed
to be my companion so far on my journey. It
was not the most direct road to Lausanne ; but it
was that by which I was likely to find the best
opportunities of conveyance. We, accordingly,
proceeded to Paris together ; and his good spirits
and agreeable society rendered it a very pleasant
journey. At Paris I staid only a week, and had
little more than time to renew my acquaintance
with the connexions I had formed there, parti-

1783. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 69
cularly with M. Romilly and Made and M1Ie
Delessert. Baynes had a letter of introduction
to Dr. Franklin, who was then residing at Passy,
and I had the great satisfaction of accompanying
him in his visit. Dr. Franklin was indulgent
enough to converse a good deal with us, whom
he observed to be young men very desirous of
improving by his conversation. Of all the cele
brated persons whom, in my life, I have chanced to
see, Dr. Franklin, both from his appearance and
his conversation, seemed to me the most remark
able. His venerable patriarchal appearance, the
simplicity of his manner and language, and the
novelty of his observations, at least the novelty of
them at that time to me, impressed me with an
opinion of him as of one of the most extraordinary
men that ever existed. The American Constitu
tions were then very recently published. I re
member his reading us some passages out of them,
and expressing some surprise that the French
government had permitted the publication of them
in France. They certainly produced a very great
sensation at Paris, the effects of which were pro
bably felt many years afterwards. Diderot was at
this time dead ; and D' Alembert was in so infirm a
state that I thought he would gladly enough dis
pense with a visit from me.
From Paris I travelled by the direct road to
Geneva, in company with a M. Gautier, a Ge
nevese, with whom I had, some years before,
made acquaintance in London, a very worthy
and friendly man. He, afterwards, married MUe
Delessert ; and with him and his incomparable
f 3

70 NARRATIVE OF 1783.
wife I constantly maintained a correspondence by
letters. I made but a short stay at Geneva; few of
my best friends were then remaining there. The
revolution which had taken place had afforded a
complete triumph to the aristocratical party ; but it
had been effected by the interference of France,
and by the terror of its arms. I shall never forget
the burning indignation which I felt as I looked
down upon a French regiment, which was mounting
guard in the place of Bel-air, under the windows of
my hotel, and as I heard the noise of its military
music, which seemed, as it were, to insult the an
cient liberties of the republic.
At Lausanne, I met with the Abbe Raynal ; but
I saw him with no admiration either of his talents
or his character. Having read the eloquent pas
sages in his celebrated work with delight, I had
formed the highest expectations of him ; but those
expectations were sadly disappointed. I was filled
at this time with horror at West Indian slavery and
at the Slave Trade, and Raynal's philosophical his
tory of the two Indies had served to enliven these
sentiments ; but when I came to talk on these
subjects with him, he appeared to me so cold
and so indifferent about them, that I conceived a
very unfavourable opinion of him. * His convers
ation was certainly so inferior to his celebrated
work, as to give much countenance to the report,

* I brought with me from Lausanne, on my former visit to it, a
little tract on West Indian Slavery, which the Marquis de Condorcet
had had printed there, and had written under the pretended name of
Schwartz, a Swiss clergyman. I translated it into English ; but upon
offering it to a bookseller, I found that he would not undertake the
printing. I laid it aside, therefore ; and it never appeared.

1783. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 71
which has been very common, that the most splen
did passages in it were not his own.
My return to Engl and with my sister and her
two children was but a melancholy journey. We
put ourselves under the care of a Swiss voiturier ;
and, for the sake, I think, of avoiding any of the
places through which my sister had passed with
her husband when she left her country, and which
she thought would be attended with remembrances
too painful for her to endure, we made rather a
circuitous journey. We passed through Soleure,
Berne, Basle, Louvain, Malines, Antwerp, Breda,
and Rotterdam, to Helvoetsluys, whence we
crossed to Harwich. At Helvoetsluys we arrived
just after the packet had sailed ; and as four days
would elapse before the next, and we were un
willing to venture in any other vessel, I took advan
tage of this delay to make a little excursion to the
Hague, and I returned time enough to accompany
my sister in her passage across the sea.
Thus was my first long vacation passed. By
Michaelmas term I had returned to business, or
rather to attend the courts, and to receive such
business as accident might throw in my way. I
had endeavoured to draw Chancery pleadings be
fore I was called to the bar, as an introduction to
business when I should be called. In that way,
however, the occupation I got under the bar was
very inconsiderable ; but soon after I was admitted
to the bar, I was employed to draw pleadings in
several cases. This species of employment went on
very gradually increasing for several years ; during
which, though I was occupied in the way of ray
F 4

72 NARRATIVE OF 1784.
profession, I had scarcely once occasion to open my
lips in court.
In the spring of 1784, I first went upon the cir
cuit. All circuits were indifferent to me, for I had no
friends or connexions on any one of them ; and my
choice fell upon the Midland, because there appeared
to be fewer men of considerable talents or of high
character as advocates upon it than upon any other,
and consequently a greater opening for me than
elsewhere. It was, besides, shorter than some other
circuits, and would, therefore, take me for a less
time from the Court of Chancery ; and, what was no
unimportant consideration, my travelling expenses
upon it would be less. The circuit did not, indeed,
when, I joined it, appear to be overstocked with
talent. At the head of it, in point of rank, though
with very little business, was Serjeant Hill ; a lawyer
of very profound and extensive learning, but with a
very small portion of judgment, and without the
faculty of making his great knowledge useful. On
any subject on which you consulted him, he would
pour forth the treasures of his legal science without
order or discrimination. He seemed to be of the
order of lawyers of Lord Coke's time, and he was
the last of that race. For modern law he had su
preme contempt ; and I have heard him observe,
that the greatest service that could be rendered the
country would be to repeal all the statutes, and burn
all the reports which were of a later date than the Re
volution. Next to him in rank, but far before him in
business, and, indeed, completely at the head of the
circuit, stood * * * * ; who, without talents, with
out learning, without any one qualification for his

1784. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 73
profession, had, by the mere friendship, or rather
companionship, of Mr. Justice * * *, obtained the
favour of a silk gown ; and by a forward manner,
and the absence of commanding abilities in others,
had got to be employed in almost every cause. The
merits of ahorse he understood perfectly well ; and
when in these, as sometimes happened, consisted
the merits of a cause, he acquitted himself admir
ably ; but in other cases nothing could be more in
judicious than his conduct. In spite, however, of
his defects, and notwithstanding the obvious effects
of his mismanagement, he continued for many
years, while I was upon the circuit, in possession
of a very large portion of business. The other men
in business on the circuit were Dayrell, Balguy,
Parker Coke, Clarke, White, Gaily, and Sutton
(afterwards Lord Manners, and Chancellor of Ire
land) ; none of them very much distinguished as
lawyers, or as advocates. There were, besides,
some young men without business, and who
seemed to have little prospect of ever obtaining
it ; George Isted, Rastal, Aufrere, Skrine, Gough,
Shipston, Tom Smith, and some others whose names
I may probably have forgotten. The society of
the circuit was not very much to my mind, but I
formed in it a friendship with several men whom
I highly valued. Of these, however, Gaily and
Sutton were the principal ; the others joined the
circuit some years after I had entered upon it. At
different places we had provincial counsel, who
joined us. The most remarkable of these was Old
Wheler (so we always called him), who lived in
the neighbourhood of Coventry; an honest, sensible,

74 NARRATIVE OF 1784.
frank, good-natured, talkative old lawyer. He had
been upon the circuit forty years when I first joined
it, and was attending the assizes at the time of the
rebellion of 1745. It was some years later, and
when I attended the Coventry and Warwick,Quar-
ter Sessions, that I became very intimate with this
cheerful, open-hearted, kind old man ; but I was
so much delighted with his conversation and society,
that I cannot, upon the first mention of the lawyers
whom I found upon the circuit, refuse myself the
pleasure of speaking of him. He had read nothing
but law, he had lived only among lawyers, and all
the pleasant stories he had to tell were of the law
yers whom he remembered in his youth. His stories,
indeed, were repeated by him again and again ; but
they were told with such good humour, and had
so much intrinsic merit, that I always listened to
them with pleasure. Among some peculiarities
which he had, was a very great dislike to parsons
and to noblemen. He often remarked, that it would
have given him the greatest joy if his daughter and
his only child had married a lawyer ; but he had
the mortification (a singular one, undoubtedly, but
such it appeared to him) of seeing, before he died,
his two grandsons the presumptive heirs of two
different peerages.
Soon after my return from this, my first circuit,
I lost my dear and excellent father. He died * in
his seventy-third year, of a palsy which had affected
him several weeks before it proved fatal. Hap
pily, he suffered no pain, and was never sensible
* On the 29th of August, 1784.

1784. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 75
of the nature of his disease. A few years before,
I had persuaded myself that he was likely to live
to a much more advanced period. His faculties
were then all unimpaired, his natural cheerfulness
unclouded, and his activity unabated. I remem
ber his once observing that he had grown an old
man to others without seeming so to himself; and
his telling us of a pleasant mistake he had made,
when, being announced at some house, and one of
the servants having, from the top of the stairs,
called out " that the old gentleman was desired to
walk up," he had drawn aside, altogether forgetting
himself, in order to let the venerable person, who
ever he might be, who he supposed was meant,
pass him : and he, probably, would have lived to
a very great age, if in his latter days he had en
joyed that serenity of mind to which his virtues so
justly entitled him ; but, alas ! they were harassed
with perpetual anxiety. The expensive stock in
trade, necessary to the carrying on of his business,
had obliged him to raise money by procuring
the discount of bills, which were from time to
time renewed. As he was known to be a man of
the strictest integrity, and was supposed to be
very wealthy, he had for a considerable time found
no difficulty in procuring his bills to be discounted ;
but when, in the latter end of the American war,
there was a great stagnation of credit, he, in com
mon with others, found himself involved in diffi
culties, and he became exceedingly alarmed for the
consequences. These alarms had damped his na
tural cheerfulness, had greatly agitated his mind,
and may be truly said to have brought upon him,

76 NARRATIVE OF 1784.
though he was then of the age of seventy, a pre
mature old age.
When I was called to the bar, it became neces
sary for me to have a servant, one who should be
always in chambers to receive briefs, cases, and
instructions for pleadings, if any should chance to
be brought for me, and who should attend me
upon the circuit, in the various characters of clerk,
valet, and groom. It was a singular choice that
I made of a man to serve me in these. capacities.
I have mentioned, I think, in the early part of my
life, a female servant, to whom the care of myself,
my brother, and my sister was intrusted, one
Mary Evans, as simple-hearted, honest, and affec
tionate a creature as ever existed. Before she left
my father's house, she had become strongly infected
with methodism ; and, not long after she left it,
she married a pious journeyman shoemaker, ofthe
name of Bickers, as fervent a methodist as herself.
The poor man began to grow infirm ; he had
become incapable of working assiduously at his
trade, and consequently incapable of supporting
himself, and of supporting her. I could not en
dure the idea of seeing a woman, whom in my in
fancy I had revered almost as a mother, and who
had loved me as her son, reduced to distress ; and
I could not afford to maintain her husband and to
pay the wages of a servant besides. I determined,
therefore, unpromising as the project seemed, to
try whether I could not make shift with him as a
servant. I certainly suffered, during several years,
for my good nature. He could ride, and he could
stand behind my chair at dinner, but this was

1784. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 77
almost all that he could do ; and though I, some
times, employed him to copy papers for me, he
wrote very ill, and made a thousand faults of
spelling. The want of proper attendance, how
ever, was far less disagreeable to me than the jokes
which he excited on the circuit. His appearance
was singular and puritanical ; and the first day he
was • seen on the circuit, he was named by the
young men upon it, " the Quaker," an appellation
by which he was always afterwards known. It is
not easy to give an idea of the great familiarity
which existed amongst the young men who went
the circuit, ofthe strong disposition to turn things
into ridicule which prevailed, and how very for
midable that ridicule was. To all his defects,
Bickers added that of sometimes getting drunk ;
and he has often made me pass very unpleasant
hours under the apprehension that, half elevated
with liquor, and half inspired with the spirit of
methodism which possessed him, he would say or
do something which would afford an inexhaustible
fund of mirth to the whole circuit. All this,
however, I submitted to, from the motives which
I have already mentioned ; and, in spite of his in
creasing defects and infirmities, and notwithstand
ing the disagreeable hours which he made me pass,
he continued my servant till the day of his death,
(a period, I think, of about seven years,) though I
was obliged, at last, to take a temporary servant to
attend me on the circuits. With all his defects,
he had some excellent qualities. He knew that
it could not be for the services he rendered me
that I continued him in my service, and he was all

78 NARRATIVE OF 1784.
gratitude for my kindness. In every way that it
was possible far him he showed his zeal and his
attachment to me ; and I shall not soon forget the
earnestness with which he once ventured to offer
me his advice upon what appeared to him to be a
matter of no small moment. I had, sometimes,
employed him to copy papers which I had amused
myself with writing upon abuses existing in- the
administration of justice, and upon the necessity
of certain reforms. He had seen with great re
gret the little progress I had made in my profes
sion, and particularly upon the circuit, and had
observed those whom he thought much my in
feriors in talents far before me in business ; and,
putting these matters together in his head, he en
tertained no doubt that he had, at last, discovered
the cause of what had long puzzled him. The
business of a barrister depends on the good opinion
of attorneys ; and attorneys never could think well
of any man who was troubling his head about re
forming abuses when he ought to be profiting by
them. All this he, one day, took the liberty of
representing to me with very great humility. I
endeavoured to calm his apprehensions, and told
him that what I wrote was seen only by himself
and by me ; but this, no doubt, did not satisfy
him. But it is time for me to mention the acquaint
ance which I formed with some celebrated men.
It was in the latter end of the year 1784 that I first
met the Count de Mirabeau, and it was to DTver-
nois that I owed his acquaintance. His extra
ordinary talents, the disorders of his tumultuous

1784. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 79
youth, the excesses he had committed, the law
suits in which he had been engaged, the harsh
treatment he had experienced from his father, his
imprisonment in the dungeon of Vincennes, and
the eloquent work he had written with the indig
nant feelings which so unjust an imprisonment in
spired, had already given him considerable celebrity
in Europe ; but it was a celebrity greatly inferior
to that which he afterwards acquired. He brought
with him to this country a short tract, which he had
written against the Order of the Cincinnati lately
established in America, which it was his object to
publish here. He was desirous that an English
translation of it should appear at the same time
with the original. He read his manuscript to me ;
and, seeing that I was very much struck with the
eloquence of it, he proposed to me to become his
translator, telling me that he knew that it was im
possible to expect any thing tolerable from a trans
lator who was to be paid. I thought the trans
lation would be a useful exercise for me ; I had
sufficient leisure on my hands, and I undertook it.
The Count was difficult enough to please ; he was
sufficiently impressed with the beauties of the ori
ginal. He went over every part of the translation
with me ; observed on every passage in which jus
tice was not done to the thought, or the force of
the expression was lost ; and made many very use
ful criticisms. During this occupation, we had
occasion to see one another often, and became
very intimate; and, as he had read much, had
seen a great deal of the world, was acquainted with
all the most distinguished persons who at that time

80 NARRATIVE OF 1784.
adorned either the royal court or the republic
of letters in France, had a great knowledge of
French and Italian literature, and possessed a very
good taste, his conversation was extremely interest
ing, and not a little instructive. I had such fre
quent opportunities of seeing him at this time, and
afterwards at a much more important period of his
life, that I think his character was well known to
me. I doubt whether it has been as well known
to the world, and I am convinced that great injus
tice has been done him. This, indeed, is not sur
prising, when one considers that, from the first
moment of his entering upon the career of an
author, he had been altogether indifferent how
numerous or how powerful might be the enemies
he should provoke. His vanity was, certainly, ex
cessive ; but I have no doubt that, in his public
conduct as well as in his writings, he was desirous
of doing good, that his ambition was of the noblest
kind, and that he proposed to himself the noblest
ends. He was, however, like many of his country
men, who were active in the calamitous revolution
which afterwards took place, not sufficiently scru
pulous about the means by which those ends were
to be accomplished. He, indeed, in some degree,
professed this ; and more than once I have heard
him say that there were occasions upon which " la
petite morale Mail ennemie de la grande." It is
not surprising that with such maxims as these in .
his mouth, unguarded in his expressions, and care
less of his reputation, he should have afforded
room for the circulation of many stories to his dis
advantage. Violent, impetuous, conscious of the

1784. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 81
superiority of his talents, and the declared enemy
and denouncer of every species of tyranny and op
pression, he could not fail to shock the prejudices,
to oppose the interests, to excite the jealousy, and
to wound the pride of many descriptions of per
sons. A mode of refuting his works, open to the
basest and vilest of mankind, was to represent hirii
as a monster of vice and profligacy. A scandal
once set on foot is strengthened and propagated
by many who have no malice against the object of
it. Men delight to talk of what is extraordinary ;
and what more extraordinary than a person so ad
mirable for his talents, and so contemptible for his
conduct, professing in his writings principles so
excellent, and in all the offices of public and pri
vate life putting in practice those which are so
detestable? I, indeed, possessed demonstrative
evidence of the falsehood of some of the anecdotes
which, by men of high character, were related to
his prejudice.
While he was in London, he lost a great part of
his linen, and a manuscript copy of the correspond
ence between Voltaire and D' Alembert, which was
at that time unpublished, but has since appeared
in Beaumarchais' edition. A person of the name
of Hardy, who served him in the capacity of
amanuensis, having abruptly left him, although his
wages remained unpaid,' suspicion naturally fell
on him, and the Count obtained a warrant against
him ; and after some time he was apprehended
and tried at the Old Bailey. The evidence was
very slight, and the man was properly acquitted;
but nothing at all discreditable to Mirabeau ap-
vol. 1. o

82 NARRATIVE OF 1784.
peared upon the trial. On the contrary, Baron
Perryn, who tried the prisoner (Mr. Justice
Buller being at the same time upon the bench),
declared, that though the prisoner ought certainly
to be acquitted, no blame whatever was to be im
puted to the prosecution. Lord Minto, then Sir
Gilbert Elliot, who had been at the same school
with Mirabeau, and was the greatest friend he had
in England, Baynes, and myself, were present at
the trial, and had been consulted by Mirabeau
upon all the steps he had taken upon the occa
sion. When the trial was over, Lord Minto said
that it would be extremely important to have an
accurate account of what had passed upon the
trial inserted in some of the newspapers, to prevent
any misrepresentation oft it, which he thought
might be apprehended from Mirabeau's enemies ;
for it had been observed that some of them, and
particularly Linguet, had taken a great interest in
the affair, and had been present watching every
thing that passed, as well upon the trial as pre
viously upon the examination ofthe prisoner before
the magistrate who committed him. At Lord
Minto's suggestion, therefore, he, together with
Baynes and -myself, went immediately from the
Court to Baynes's chambers ; and there drew up
a very full account .of the trial, which was the
next day published in one of the newspapers. I
have the paper still in my possession, and it con
tains a most scrupulously exact account of every
thing that passed. What was my astonishment,
therefore, some years afterwards, when Mirabeau
had, by his conduct in the National Assembly of

1784. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 83
France, drawn the attention of all Europe upon
him, to hear, as I did, that Mr. Justice Buller had
stated * in different companies, that Mirabeau
had had the villany, because his servant demanded
his wages of him, and threatened him with an
arrest, to charge him with a felony, for which
there was so little foundation that it was proved
upon the trial that Mirabeau had never been pos
sessed of so many shirts as he had accused his
servant of stealing ! That Mr. Justice Buller de
liberately circulated these untruths, knowing them
to be such, I do not believe. He had a very im
perfect recollection of the trial, although he had
himself presided at it ; he fancied what he stated ;
he did not give himself the trouble of looking back
to his notes, and it did not seem to him to be very
important that he should be scrupulously exact
respecting a man who had already so bad a re
putation, and who would not be the better or the
worse for what was thought of him in England.
It is in this way, only, that I am able to account
for what appears so extraordinary, but upon which
it is hardly possible that I can have made any
mistake. Mirabeau's indifference as to the enemies he
made was shown in various instances during his
residence in England. In his notes upon his
Cincinnati, he attacked Sir Joseph Banks for his
conduct as President of the Royal Society ; and
he arraigned the judgment ofthe Court of King's
Bench, in the celebrated case of the Dean of
* I heard this from persons who told me they were present when
Mr. Justice Buller made these statements.
G 2

84 NARRATIVE OF 1784.
St. Asaph. In private company he was positive
and intolerant in his opinions. One remarkable
instance of this appeared at a dinner, at which I
was present, at Mr. Brand Hollis's. Among the
company were John Wilkes, General Miranda,
and Mirabeau. The conversation turned upon the
English criminal law, its severity, and the fre
quency of public executions. Wilkes defended
the system with much wit and good-humour, but
with very bad arguments. He thought the hap
piest results followed from the severity of our
penal law. It accustomed men to a contempt of
death, though it never held out to them any very
cruel spectacle ; and he thought that much ofthe
courage of Englishmen, and of their humanity
too, might be traced to the nature of our capital
punishments, and to their being so often exhibited
to the people. Mirabeau was not satisfied with
having the best of the argument, and with1 tri
umphantly refuting his opponent; he was deter
mined to crush him ' with his eloquence. He
declaimed with vehemence, talked of Wilkes's
profound immorality, and with a man less cool,
less indifferent about the truth, and less skilled
in avoiding any personal quarrel than Wilkes, the
dispute would probably have been attended with
very serious consequences.
Mirabeau seemed to provoke and to take a plea
sure in these sort of controversies with celebrated
men ; and he wrote a letter to me while I was on
the circuit in 1785, in which he gave me a very
detailed account of a dispute which he supposed
himself to have had with Gibbon, the historian, at

1784. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 85
Lord Lansdowne's table, and in which he expressed
himself with so much violence, that he seems in
some degree to admit that he was to blame. The
most extraordinary circumstance, however, is, that
he certainly never had any such dispute with
Gibbon ; and that, at the time, when he supposed
it to have taken place, Gibbon was actually residing
at Lausanne. How the mistake happened, and
who it was that he took for Gibbon, I never dis
covered, but ofthe fact there can be no doubt, for
I have still the letter in my possession.1
I have dwelt too long, perhaps, on this extraor
dinary man, especially as I shall have occasion to
mention him agairi, and probably more than once.
My acquaintance with him may have had con
siderable influence on the subsequent events of
my life, though I am unable to say with any cer
tainty whether it really had such an influence. He
introduced me to Benjamin Vaughan, and Ben
jamin Vaughan made me acquainted with Lord
Lansdowne. Mirabeau, too, was loud in his praises
of me to that nobleman ; he had formed high
expectations of me ; he was anxious that I should
act a distinguished part in the country ; and he
was impatient to see me in Parliament, as the
only theatre upon which that part could be acted.
In all this he was actuated by the most disin
terested motives, and by the purest friendship for
me.2 Lord Lansdowne's acquaintance with me was
entirely at his own request. He begged that I
' See infra, " Letters from Mirabeau " in 1785. — Ed.
a Ibid.
G 3

86 NARRATIVE OF 1784.
would call on him to give him some information
respecting my friend Dumont, who at that time
was the pastor of a protestant church at Peters-
burgh, and whom he had some thoughts of en
gaging to come into this country to undertake the
education of his younger son, Henry, the present
Marquis of Lansdowne. I accordingly waited on
his Lordship, and was received by him in the most
flattering manner. From that time he anxiously
cultivated my acquaintance and my friendship ; and
to that friendship I owe it that I ever knew the
affectionate wife who has been the author of all my
happiness. What procured me so kind a reception
by Lord Lansdowne was less the praises of Mira
beau, than a small tract which I had written on a
subject which at that time very much interested
the public. The trial of the Dean of St. Asaph
had revived and given a more lively interest to the
question, often before discussed, ' what was the
proper province of the jury in matters of libel';
Upon this question I had drawn up a paper, which
I called A Fragment on the Rights and Duties of
Juries \ or by some such title, and which I had
sent anonymously to the Constitutional Society,
that Society having warmly entered into the con
troversy, and being, indeed, deeply interested in
the trial out of which it arose, since the dialogue,
written by Sir William Jones, which the Dean was
prosecuted for publishing in Welsh, had been ori
ginally printed in English by the Society itself.
The only object of this Society, which consisted
i The accurate title of the tract is, A Fragment on the Constitu
tional Power and Duties of Juries. — Ed.

1784. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 87
of a few men of great talents, but of which the
greater number were well meaning but foolish per
sons, was to publish and circulate gratuitously po
litical tracts which might inform the people upon
the true principles of the constitution. These
tracts, as Burke has somewhere observed, were
never as charitably read as they were charitably
published. The Society received my paper with
great applause, and ordered many copies of it to be
printed and distributed. Baynes, Vaughan, and a
very few more of my friends knew the paper to be
mine, and Vaughan mentioned it as such to Lord
Lansdowne, who conceived from it a very favour
able opinion of me, and became, in consequence,
desirous of my acquaintance.* His Lordship
loaded me with civilities, and seemed to take, and
1 have no doubt did sincerely take, a great inter
est in my success. The projects, however, which
Mirabeau had conceived for me, were not at this
time at all in question. If, indeed, they had been,
I should not have hesitated to decline them, as, if
I am not mistaken, I very fully stated to Baynes,
in a letter which I wrote to him from the circuit,
in answer to one1, in which he stated to me all
that Mirabeau had been dreaming about for my
advantage. Some years afterwards, indeed, Lord
Lansdowne did offer me a seat in Parliament, and
* I was not the only person whose supposed talents had procured
him Lord Lansdowne's friendship. That admirable criticism on Black-
stone's Commentaries, which was published under the title of A Fragment
on Government, procured for its author, my most excellent friend, Jeremy
Bentham, an introduction to Lord Lansdowne of the same kind, and in
consequence of it his warm friendship.

1 See infra, " Letters from Mirabeau" in 1785. — Ed.
G 4

88 NARRATIVE OF 1785.
strongly pressed me fo accept it, with an assurance
that I was to be at perfect liberty to vote and act
as I should think proper. This was at a time
when I had got a tolerable share of business at the
bar, when I seemed certain of gaining a compe
tence in my profession, and when, in point of for
tune, I should have risked very little by going into
Parliament. It was that which, above all things, I
should have rejoiced in, if I could have gone into
the House of Commons perfectly independent, and
not with the consciousness that I was placed there
by an individual whose opinions might, on some
important subjects, be very different from my own.
Even with all these disadvantages, the offer was at
that time so tempting, that I confess I hesitated :
it was not, however, for long : I had the good
sense and the honesty to decline it, and I have
ever since applauded my determination.
But whatever distant views Lord Lansdowne
might have had, he had no wish, at this time, to
see me in the House of Commons ; and I believe
he did not imagine that I should ever be a success
ful speaker there. He was very desirous, however,
that I should distinguish myself in my profession ;
and he was, at the same time, anxious that I should
write some work which might attract the atention
of the public. Madan had recently published his
* Thoughts on Executive Justice ; ' a small tract,
in which, by a mistaken application of the maxim,
' that the certainty of punishment is more efficacious
than its severity for the prevention of crimes,' he
absurdly insisted on the expediency of rigidly en
forcing, in every instance, our penal code, san
guinary and barbarous as it is : the certainty of

1785. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 89
punishment he strongly recommended, but inti
mated no wish to see any part of its severity relaxed.
The work was, in truth, a strong and vehement
censure upon the judges and the ministers for their
mode of administering the law, and for the fre
quency of the pardons which they granted. It was
very much read, and certainly was followed by the
sacrifice of many lives, by the useless sacrifice of
them ; for though some of the judges, and the go
vernment, for- a time, adopted his reasoning, it was
but for a short time that they adopted it ; and, in
deed, a long perseverance in such a sanguinary
system was impossible. Lord Ellenborough, who
seems to consider himself as bound to defend the
conduct of all judges, whether living or dead, has
lately, in the House of Lords, in his usual way
of unqualified and vehement assertion, declared
that it was false that this book had any effect, what
ever, upon either judges or ministers. To this
assertion I have only to oppose these plain facts :
in the year 1783, the year before the work was
published, there were executed in London only 51
malefactors; in 1785, the year after itwas published,
there were executed 97 '• and it was recently after
the publication of this book that was exhibited a
' spectacle unseen in London for a long course of
years before, the execution of nearly 20 criminals
at a time. Lord Lansdowne, amongst others, was
dazzled and imposed upon by this writer's reason
ing ; and he even recommended me to write some
thing on the same subject. This, of course, in
duced me to look into the book ; but I was so much
shocked at the folly and inhumanity of it, that, in-

90 NARRATIVE OF 1786.
stead of enforcing the same arguments, I sat down
to refute them ; and I soon afterwards produced a
little tract, which I published without my name,
as Observations on a late Publication, entitled,
' Thoughts on Executive Justice ;' and I added to
it a letter of Dr. Franklin's to Benjamin Vaughan,
on the same subject. A few of my friends, —
Baynes, Vaughan, Lord Lansdowne, Dr. Jebb,
Wilberforce, and Sir Gilbert Elliot, knew that the
work was mine, and highly approved it. I did not,
however, publicly avow it, nor had I any encou
ragement to do so ; for, though it was much com
mended in the Reviews, it had so little success with
the public, that not more than a hundred copies of
it were sold. I sent a copy to each of the judges;
and I had great satisfaction in hearing Mr. Jus
tice Willes, while he was on the circuit, speaking
highly in its praise, and wondering who could be
the author. To Lord Sydney, who was then Se
cretary of State for the Home Department, I also
sent a copy ; but it was not received, his servant
having told the person by whom I sent it, that he
had his Lordship's orders not to receive any letter
or parcel without knowing whom it came from ;
a curious precaution to be used by a minister who
is at the head of the police.
The little success of this pamphlet did not deter
me from occupying my leisure hours in writing ob
servations on different parts of our criminal law.
Upon the circuit, too, I made the criminal law very
much my study, and attended as often as I could
in the Crown Court, and noted down all the most
remarkable things that passed there ; not merely the

1786. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 91
points of law that arose, but the effects which the
different provisions of the law, the rules of evi
dence, and our forms of proceeding appeared to
me to produce on the manners of the people, and
on the administration of justice.
The society of the circuit had much improved
within a few years after I first entered upon it,
by the addition of several men for whom I en
tertained a very great regard. The principal
of these were Ascough, Perceval, and Bramston.
Ascough, though possessed of a large property,
and though generous to a degree which amounted
to a perfect contempt of money, followed the pro
fession with as much ardour as if his subsistence
had depended upon his success. He had read
a great deal, always brought many books with
him upon the circuit, and was possessed of much
general knowledge, in which English lawyers are
commonly so lamentably deficient. He was cheer
ful, warm, friendly, and was a great acquisition to
the society of the circuit. So, too, was Perceval ;
with much less, and indeed with very little read
ing, of a conversation barren of instruction, and
with strong and invincible prejudices on many sub
jects ; yet, by his excellent temper, his engaging
manners, and his sprightly conversation, he was the
delight of all who knew him. I formed a strong
and lasting friendship with both these men. Poor
Ascough died of a consumption a short time after
I was married ; and Perceval, after he had, in a
manner which my private friendship for him could
never induce me to consider in a favourable point
of view, obtained the situation of Prime Minister1,
' See infra, Pari. Diary, April, 1807. — Ed.

92 NARRATIVE OF 1786.
and quite to the moment of his tragical end, was
desirous that our friendship should remain unin
terrupted : I could not, however, continue in habits
of private intimacy and intercourse with one whom
in public I had every day to oppose. Bramston had
the good humour and the friendly disposition of
the other two, and his conversation was likewise
very engaging. Many very happy hours have I
passed in this society ; particularly when we could
contrive for a day to get away from the circuit,
either at Matlock, or at our friend Digb/s, at
Meriden, in Warwickshire.
This sort of amusement, however, was for a con
siderable time the only profit that I derived from
the circuit. Many of the barristers upon it had
friends and connexions in some of the counties
through which we passed, which served as an intro
duction of them to business ; but for myself, I was
without connexions every where : and at the end
of my sixth or seventh circuit, I had made no pro
gress. I had been, it is true, in a few causes ; but
all the briefs, I had had, were delivered to me by
London attorneys, who had seen myface in London,
and who happened to be strangers to the juniors
on the circuit. They afforded me no opportunity
of displaying any talents, if I had possessed them,
and they led to nothing; I might have conti
nued thus a mere spectator of the business done
by others, quite to the end of the sixteen years
which elapsed before I gave up every part of the
circuit, if I had not resolved, though it was very
inconvenient to me on account of the business
which I began to get in London, to attend the

1786. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 93
Quarter Sessions of some Midland County. There
is, indeed, a course by which an unconnected man
may be pretty sure to gain business, and which is
not unfrequently practised. It is to gain an ac
quaintance with the attorneys at the different assize-
towns, to show them great civility, to pay them
great court, and to effect before them a display of
wit, knowledge, and parts. But he who disdains
such unworthy means may, if he do not attend
the Quarter Sessions, pass his whole life in tra
velling round the circuit, and in daily attendances
in court, without obtaining a single brief. When a
man first makes his appearance in court, no attorney
is disposed to try the experiment whether he has
any talents ; and when a man's face has become
familiar by his having been long a silent spectator
of the business done by others, his not being em
ployed is supposed to proceed from his incapacity,
and is alone considered as sufficient evidence that
he must have been tried and rejected. It was an
observation, indeed, which I heard Mr. Justice
Heath make, " that there was no use in going a
circuit without attending sessions," which deter
mined me to try the experiment, and I fixed on
Warwick as being the last place upon the com
mission, and therefore that part of it which I could
attend with the least interruption of my business in
Chancery, and as being also the place at which at
that time the greatest number of causes were tried.
At the sessions there is a much less attendance of
counsel than at the assizes ; and from the inca
pacity for business of many who do attend, every
man is almost certain of being tried ; and if he has

94 NARRATIVE OF 1787.
any talents, of being a good deal employed. I
found the experiment very successful : I had not
attended many sessions before I was in all the
business there ; this naturally led to business at the
assizes, and I had obtained a larger portion of it
than any man upon the circuit, when my occupa
tions in London forced me altogether to relinquish
it : this, however, was at a period long subsequent to
that to which I have brought down my narrative.
The increase of my business in town was so
regular and considerable, as to make it evident
that I ought principally to rely upon it, and
that the circuit should be made a matter of very
subordinate consideration. It was, indeed, more
for the sake of cultivating the habit of addressing
juries, of examining and cross-examining witnesses,
and of exercising that presence of mind which is
so essential to a nisi prius advocate, and which I
thought might be of great use to me in the higher
stations of the profession to which I began to as
pire, than on account of'the emolument I might
derive from it, that I remained on the circuit.
In the summer of 1787) I suffered an irreparable
loss by the death of my most excellent friend,
Baynes. I had engaged to pass a part of the
vacation with him at his father's in the neigh
bourhood of Skipton, in Yorkshire, and we were to
have set out immediately, upon my return from the
circuit ; but, upon the circuit, I received the news
of his illness, of the alarms which were entertained
for him, and of his death. He had been applying
himself to study with unusual assiduity; his busi
ness as a special pleader under the bar had much

1787. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 95
increased, and he had undergone extraordinary
fatigues in it ; and, during all this, he had deter-
mind to live with a very unusual degree of abste
miousness. He was attacked by a putrid fever,
which baffled all the efforts of medicine, and in a
very short time brought him to the grave. His
loss was one of the greatest misfortunes which at
that time could have befallen me, and it was a
source of great affliction to me ; but I shall ever
account it one of the most fortunate occurrences, in
my prosperous life, that, for six years before he died,
I enjoyed his warm and generous friendship. In
death, he bore testimony of his affection for me ; he
appointed me the executor of his will, and he left
me a valuable part of his library, all his classics, and
all his books upon law and legal antiquities. His
friend Dr. Parr, at the instance of his father, wrote
an inscription for his tomb, which is very happily
characteristic of him.1
1 The following is the inscription alluded to : — Ed.
JOANNI BAYNES, A.M.
COLLEGII S. TRINITATIS APUD CANTABRIGIENSIS SOCIO
JUVENI DISERTO ET SINE MALEDICTIS FACETO
VI INGENII AD EXCOGITANDUM ACUTA
ET FIRMA AD MEMORIAM MIRIFICE PRAEDITO
GRAECIS ET LATIN1S LITERIS PENITUS IMBUTO
LEGUM ANGLICARUM INTERIORI
ET RECONDITA DISCIPLINA ERUDITO
LIBERTATIS CONSERVANDAE PERSTUDIOSO
PATRIAE BONORUMQUE CIVIUM AMANTISSIMO
SIMPLICI JUSTO ET PROPOSITI
ANIMOSE ET FORTITER TENACI
QUI VIXIT ANN. XXVIII. MENS. III. DIEB. XXVIII.
DECESSIT LONDINI PRIDIE NON. AUGUST.
ANNO SACRO
M.DCC.LXXX.VII.
GULIELMUS BAYNES
CONTRA VOTUM SUPERSTES
FILIO BENE MERENTI
H. M. P.

96

NARRATIVE OF 1788.

In the vacation of the following year, 1788, I
made a third visit to Paris. My friend Dumont
was my companion ; and my principal object was to
amuse myself, and to see more of the society of
that celebrated city than my former short visits
had enabled me to do. As soon as the circuit
was over, we set out together, and after a delight
ful journey through Normandy, by Dieppe and
Rouen, we arrived at Paris. It was on a Saturday
that we arrived ; and on the next day the ambas
sadors of Tippoo Saib were to be presented to the
King at Versailles. We repaired thither ; and
though we could only procure a place in one of
the rooms through which the ambassadors passed,
yet we had an opportunity of seeing all the
splendour and gaiety of the court ; and its dazzling
magnificence has often occurred to my imagin
ation, when I have read of the horrible scenes
which were, soon afterwards, acted on the same
theatre. We brought with us many letters of intro
duction, and particularly some from Lord Lans
downe ; we had both of us already acquaintances
at Paris, and we saw a great number and a great
variety of persons. Among the most remark
able were the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, M. de
Malesherbes, M. de Lafayette, the Abbe Morel
let, Chamfort, Dupont de Nemours, Condorcet,
Mallet du Pan, the Count de Sarsfield, Jefferson
the American ambasador, Etienne de St. Pierre,
Target, and Mercier the author of the Tableau
de Paris. Mirabeau, too, was, at this time, at
Paris, publishing his great work on the Prussian

1788. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. . 97
Monarchy. We saw him ; I renewed my ac
quaintance with him ; he was delighted with
Dumont's wit and extraordinary talents ; we be
came again very intimate, and passed many hours
in his most captivating society. Amongst other
objects of curiosity for travellers, we made, during
our stay at Paris, a visit to Bicetre. Mercier,
Mallet du Pan, Dumont, and myself, were the
whole party. I was much shocked and disgusted
at what I saw, both in the hospital and the prison :
I saw Mirabeau the next day, and mentioned to
him the impression they had made on me ; he
exhorted me earnestly to put down my observ
ations in writing, and to give them to him. I did
so ; and he soon afterwards translated them into
French, and published them in the form of a
pamphlet, under the title of Lettre d'un f^oy^
ageur Anglais sur la Prison de BicMre ; and he
added to them some observations on criminal law,
which were very nearly a translation from the
little tract I had published on Madan's Thoughts
on Executive Justice. The work was suppressed
by the police of Paris. The letter upon Bicetre,
after my return to London, I printed in a peri
odical publication called The Repository, which
was published by Benjamin Vaughan, or under his
auspices. I printed it as being a translation from
Mirabeau, although it was in truth the original.
Amongst all the eminent persons we saw at
Paris, there was none who impressed me with so
much respect and attachment as the good and
virtuous Malesherbes. There was a certain sim
plicity and warmth of heart in him, which, at the
VOL. I. H

98

NARRATIVE OF 1788.

first moment, put those who approached him per
fectly at their ease, and inspired them with the
freedom of a long and intimate acquaintance. Of
a man, who, soon afterwards, upon the trial of the
unfortunate King, acted so magnanimous a part,
it may be worth while to remember a circumstance,
very trifling in itself, but yet which puts his affa
bility and kindness of heart in a very amiable
point of view. One day that I dined with him,
the Count de Sarsfield, who was of the party,
told me and Dumont that it would be well worth
our while to go one day to some of the large
guinguettes about Paris, and to observe the scenes
that passed there, when they were filled, as they
commonly were in the evenings, with persons of
the lower orders. It happened that, in the neigh
bourhood of M. de Malesherbes, who lived be
yond the Boulevards, there was one of the most
celebrated and crowded of these places of enter
tainment ; and the good-natured old man consented
that, after dinner, the whole company should take
a walk to it. Accordingly, in the evening, the
party, which was a pretty large one, and con
sisted, amongst others, of M. de la Luzerne, M.
de Lafayette, and Target the celebrated advocate,
proceeded to the guinguette. The master of it,
a man of very mean appearance and vulgar man
ners, was a tenant of M. de Malesherbes ; and while
they were conversing together with great fami
liarity and bonhomie, M. de Malesherbes, being
desirous of surprising the poor fellow with the
great name of one of his guests, and enjoying his
admiration, asked him if he had ever happened to

1788. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 99
hear of a certain Marquis de Lafayette, pleasing
himself with being able, when he had received for
answer, as he expected, "to be sure he had, as
had all the rest of the world," to point out to him
the modest-looking gentleman, who was standing
at his elbow ; but, to his great disappointment,
the than answered, "No, really I can't say I ever
djd. Pray, who was he?" His little- disappoint
ment, however, he took with that good nature
which characterized every thing that he said or did,
and he joined in the laugh against himself.
The state of public affairs, during this our visit
to Paris, was highly interesting. The administra
tion of the Archbishop of Sens had become ex
tremely unpopular, and there were some trifling
commotions in the streets. Crowds assembled on
the Pont Neuf, and obliged all the passers-by to
take off their hats, in token of respect, before the
equestrian statue of Henry IV. In the coffee
houses of the Palais Royal, the freest conversa
tions were indulged ; and in the midst of the
public ferment which prevailed, a change of mi
nistry was announced, and M. Necker was re
called to the administration. He had not long
returned to office before the King declared his de
termination to assemble the States General. Such
an event, as may well be supposed, produced a
very 'great effect, and was the subject of every
conversation. The best and most virtuous men
(and I place the Duke de la Rochefoucauld and
M. de Malesherbes amongst the foremost of them)
saw in it the beginning of a new era of happiness
for France, and for all the civilized world. The

100 NARRATIVE OF 1788.
ambitious rejoiced at the wide field that was open
ing to their aspiring hopes, and the men of letters
began to entertain a higher opinion of their own
importance than even they had before conceived.
There was not, however, to be found a single
individual, the most gloomy, the most timid, or
the most enthusiastically sanguine, who foresaw
any of the extraordinary events to which the as
sembling the States was to lead. Who, indeed,
could, in that single measure, have discovered the
seeds of what followed? — the abolition of the
monarchy ; the public execution of the king and
queen ; the destruction of the nobility ; the anni
hilation of all religion ; the erection of a petty but
most sanguinary tyranny in almost every town of
France ; a succession of wars, all contributing to
increase the martial glory ofthe nation ; and, finally,
the establishment of a military despotism, the sub
jugation of almost all the rest of Europe, and the
nearest approach that is to be found in the history
of modern times to universal empire !
Paris was at this time, from the different cha
racters of the individuals we saw there, and the
occasion which called these characters forth, as
instructive to us as it was amusing. I should
have been glad to have stayed longer, and to have
enjoyed and profited' more by it, but I was obliged
to be back early in October, to attend the" Co
ventry and Warwick Quarter Sessions ; and to
an object of such great importance to me as my
success in my profession, I was disposed to make
great sacrifices. We reluctantly, therefore, set
out on our return, and yet I was near missing

1788. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 101
the object of it ; for though we had allowed
ourselves full time to perform our journey, when
we arrived at Boulogne we found the wind ad
verse, and blowing so strongly that it was impos
sible to sail for England, either from that port or
from Calais ; and after staying at Boulogne nearly
a week, we were still there on Saturday, at one
o'clock in the day, when it was requisite that I
should be in Court, at Coventry, by ten o'clock
on the morning of the following Monday. This,
however, by great good fortune, I was able to
accomplish. We had a passage of only three
hours ; we proceeded the same night to Canterbury ;
and I arrived in London early enough on the next
evening to obtain a place in a mail-coach, which
conveyed me by nine o'clock the following morn
ing to Coventry.
Some months after I had returned from Paris,
I received a letter from the Count de Sarsfield,
requesting me to send him some book which stated
the rules and orders of proceeding in the English
House of Commons. He thought it would be
extremely useful to assist the States General in
regulating their debates, and their modes of trans
acting business. There was no such book, and I
could send him nothing that would answer his
purpose. Hatsell omits the common rules which
are known to every body, and which are just what
the French would stand the most in need of; and
he is very minute and very ample in precedents
upon points which, to them, could not be of the
smallest use. There was nothing to be done but
to draw up a statement of the Rules ofthe House
h 3

102 NARRATIVE OF 1788.
of .Commons myself; and I very cheerfully set
about it, though it was likely to occupy a good
deal of my time. In truth, I thought it of ex
treme importance that the States should begin by
making some regulations which might insure order
and tranquillity in their proceedings. Dupont,
who was one of the Secretaries of the Notables,
and had a process verbal of their proceedings, had
mentioned to me the tumult which had often pre
vailed in that assembly, and which was sometimes
carried to such a height that he was obliged to
suspend his journal. It was once, he said, plea
santly proposed by one of the members to establish
as a rule, that there should never be more than
four members speaking at once. I gave myself
great pains to make the paper I drew up as accu
rate as possible ; and after I had finished it, I
showed it to Sir Gilbert- Elliot, who corrected it in
some matters in which J had been mistaken, and
who showed it likewise to Mr. Ley, the assistant
clerk to the House of Commons. When it was
as complete as I could make it, I sent it to the
Count de Sarsfield. He received it most thank
fully, and set about translating it into French.
He died, however, before he had advanced far
with the work ; and from his hands the papers
passed into those of Mirabeau. Mirabeau, fully
sensible of the importance of the work, with all
expedition, translated and published it. It never,
however, was of the smallest use ; and no regard
whatever was paid to it by the National Assembly,
as the States General were pleased, soon after
their meeting, to call themselves. They met,

1789. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 103
having to form their rules and mode of proceed
ing. The leading members were little disposed
to borrow any thing from England. They did not
adopt these rules, and they hardly observed any
others. Much of the violence which prevailed
in the Assembly wTould have been allayed, and
many rash measures unquestionably prevented, if
their proceedings had been conducted with or
der and regularity. If one single rule had been
adopted, namely, that every motion should be re
duced into writing in the form of a proposition
before it was put from the chair, instead of pro
ceeding, as was their constant course, by first re
solving the principle as they called it (decreter le
principe), and leaving the drawing up what they
had so resolved (or, as they called it, la redaction,)
for a subsequent operation, it is astonishing how
great an influence it would have had on their de
bates and on their measures. When I was after-
ward's present, and witnessed their proceedings, I
had often occasion to lament that the trouble I had
taken had been of no avail.
I was among those who, in the early stages of
the French Revolution, entertained the most san
guine expectations ofthe happy effects which were
to result from it, not to France alone, but to the
rest of the world ; and I very early, I think some
time about July, 1789, published a short pamphlet
on the subject, under the title of Thoughts on the
probable- Influence ofthe late Revolution in France
upon other Countries, or some such title.1
1 Thoughts on the probable Influence of tlie French Revolution on
Great Britain. The year on the title-page is 1790. — Ed.
H 4

104 NARRATIVE OF 1789.
By the time that I was able to enjoy again the
leisure of a long vacation, events in France had be
come so interesting, and the National Assembly, then
sitting at Versailles, had become an object of such
curiosity, that I could not resist the desire of being a
near spectator of them. Accordingly I set out, on
the first day after I was released from the circuit, for
Paris. I arrived there shortly after the celebrated
decrees of the 4th of August had been passed, —
those decrees by which, in an evening sitting, and
in a moment of enthusiasm, the Assembly had, by
a string of hasty resolutions, abolished tithes and
all feudal rights, without considering what conse
quences were to follow, or what compensations or
precautions, it might be expedient should accom
pany such important measures. As the rules which
govern all other legislative . assemblies had been
neglected, no guards whatever had been put on the
legislative powers which the Assembly exercised.
It was not necessary that an alteration of ther law
should pass through various stages, so as to become
the subject, or at least to-afford the opportunity, of
renewed consideration and debate. After some of
the first resolutions had been passed, the rest were
carried by acclamation the moment they were pro
posed ; and I afterwards heard it lamented by
several of the deputies, that they had not availed
themselves of that fortunate moment of efferves
cence and enthusiasm to propose the abolition of
other abuses, which it would then have been only
necessary to have named in order to have destroyed.
How unfortunate, I have heard it said, that no per
son happened to think ofthe Slave Trade!

1789. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 105
At Versailles, I found Dumont and Duroveray
living there together, and together conducting a
periodical publication which gave an account of
the proceedings of the National AssemWy, and
was entitled the Courrier de Provence. It passed
with the public for Mirabeau's ; and was a conti
nuation of the Letters to his Constituents, which
rendered them an account of his own conduct and
of that of the other deputies. Duroveray and
Dumont had gone to Paris early in the year, to en
deavour to avail themselves of M. Necker being
minister to procure for their common country,
Geneva, an alteration of the law which France had
guaranteed at the late fatal revolution in that re
public. They had — and who could avoid it? — taken
a great interest in the opening of the States, and
the events that rapidly followed. Mirabeau was
well aware of their talents, and was disposed to
benefit by them. On several important occasions
they assisted him ; and the address of the Assembly
to the King for the removal of the troops, an ad
dress which was adopted the moment that Mira
beau had proposed it, and which produced so great
an effect in France, was entirely, written by Du
mont. The last of Mirabeau's letters to his con
stituents, one of the most eloquent compositions
in the French language, was also Dumont's. Its
extraordinary success suggested the idea of pub
lishing a regular journal, under a different title,
and not under Mirabeau's name, but which, from
the great talents displayed in it, was generally sup
posed to be written by him; and he was too proud
ofthe performance to deny it. Of course, I found

106

NARRATIVE OF 1789.

Dumont and Duroveray in great intimacy with
Mirabeau. They were very well acquainted, too,
with other members of the Assembly. I had a letter
from Lord Lansdowne to Necker ; I was acquainted
with the Bishop of Chartres, a deputy to the
States ; and by these various means I saw a great
number of the persons who were most distinguished
as speakers in the Assembly. I was very frequent
in my attendance there, and often heard Mounier,
Barnave, Lally Tolendal, Thouret, Maury, Casales,
and D'Epresmenil, who were some of the speakers
at that time most looked up to by the different
parties. I heard Robespierre ; but he was then so
obscure, and spoke with so little talent or success,
that I have not the least recollection of his person.
I met the Abbe Sieyes several times at the Bishop
of Chartres' ; he was the Bishop's aumonier, and
a person of whose talents he entertained' the
highest opinion. Sieyes was of a morose disposi
tion, said little in company, and appeared to have
a full sense of his own superiority, and great con
tempt for the opinions of others. He was, how
ever, when I saw him, greatly out of humour with
the Assembly, and with every body who had con
curred in its decree for the abolition of tithes, and
seemed to augur very ill of the revolution. While
I was at Versailles, he published his defence of
tithes, with this motto prefixed to it — " Ils veulent
etre libres, et ils ne savent pas etre justes." At
the Bishop of Chartres', too, I sometimes met with
Petion, a man who appeared to me to have neither
talents nor vices which could enable him to have
so great and so unfortunate an influence on public

1789. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 107
affairs as he afterwards appeared to have. What
struck me as most remarkable in the dispositions of
the people that I saw, was the great desire that
every body had to act a great part, and thejealousy
which in consequence of this was entertained of
those who were really eminent. It seemed as if
all persons, from the highest to the lowest, whe
ther deputies themselves, declaimers in the Palais
Royal, orators in the coffee-houses, spectators in
the gallery, or the populace about the door, looked
upon themselves individually as of great conse
quence in the revolution. The man who kept
the hotel at which I lodged at Paris, a certain M.
Villars, was a private in the National Guard. Upon
my returning home on the day of the benediction
of their colours at Notre Dame, and telling him
that I had been present at the ceremony, he said,
" You saw me, Sir ? " I was obliged to say that I
really had not. He said, " Is that possible, Sir ?
You did not see me ! Why I was in one ofthe first
ranks — all Paris saw me." I have often since
thought of my host's childish vanity. What he
spoke was felt by thousands. The most important
transactions were as nothing, but as they had rela
tion to the figure which each little self-conceited
hero acted in them. To attract the attention of
all Paris, or of all France, was often the motive of
conduct in matters which were attended with, most
momentous consequences.
The confidence which they felt in themselves,
and their unwillingness to be informed by persons
capable of giving them information, was not a little
remarkable. I was dining one day at M. Necker's,

108 NARRATIVE OF 1789.
at Versailjes, at a great dinner, at which many of
the deputies were present ; amongst others, M.
Mallouet, a man of considerable eminence. It
was a day in which great tumult had prevailed in
the National Assembly, and the Bishop of Langres,
who was then the president, had rung his bell to
command silence till he had broken it ; but all had
been in vain. The conversation turned upon this.
Mallouet observed, that in the English House of
Commons the greatest order prevailed, and that
this was accomplished by dint of the great autho
rity vested in the Speaker, who had power, if any
member behaved disorderly, to impose silence on
him by way of punishment for two months, or any
other limited period of time. M. Necker turned
round to me as the only Englishman present, and
asked me if this was so. M. Mallouet had been so
positive and bold in his assertion, that I thought
the most polite way in which I could contradict
him, was to say that I had never heard of it. But
this only served to give that gentleman an oppor
tunity of showing his great superiority over me. I
might not, he said, have heard of it, but ofthe fact
there was not the least doubt.
Mirabeau was acting a great part during the
whole time that I was at Versailles ; and it was
not surprising that he was a little intoxicated by
the applause and admiration which he received.
He was certainly a very extraordinary man, with
great defects undoubtedly, but with many very
good qualities ; possessed of great talents himself,
and having a singular faculty of bringing forward
and availing himself of the talents of others. He

1789. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. 109
was a great plagiarist ; but it was from avarice,
not poverty, that he appropriated to himself the
views and the eloquence of others. Whatever he
found forcible or beautiful, he considered as a kind
of common property which he might avail himself
of, and which he ought to make the most of to
promote the objects he had in view; and notwith
standing all that has been said against him, I am
well' convinced that both in his writings and in his
speeches he had what he sincerely conceived to be
the good of mankind for his object. He was vain,
and he was inordinately ambitious ; but his ambition
was to act a noble part, and to establish the liberty
of his country on the most solid foundations. He
was very unjustly accused of having varied in his
politics, and of having gone over to the court.
From the beginning, and when he was the idol of
the people, he always had it in view to establish a
limited monarchy in France upon the model of the
British Constitution. That at the time when the
democratical leaders in France had far other pro
jects in contemplation he was in secret corre
spondence with the court, and that he received
money from the King, I think highly probable ;
and the gross immorality of such conduct I am
not disposed to justify, or even to palliate. But
those who believe that he suffered himself to be
bribed to do what his own' heart and judgment con
demned, and that unbribed he would have acted a
very different part, do him, in my opinion, and I
had frequent opportunities of hearing his sentiments
at the different periods when I was intimately ac
quainted with him, very great injustice.

110

NARRATIVE OF 1789

I have already spoken of his relaxed morality,
and of his vanity. In matters of indifference, aye,
and sometimes in matters of importance too, the
placing himself in an advantageous point of view
to those whose applause or admiration he courted,
far outweighed the interests of truth. Among
many instances of this kind which came within my
own observation, there was one so remarkable that
I cannot forbear to mention it. In one of the
early numbers ofthe Courrier de Provence, in which
Mirabeau wrote himself, he represents Mounier as
saying in the National Assembly that it was cor
ruption which had destroyed England, and himself
as very happily turning that extravagant hyperbole
into ridicule, by exclaiming upon the important
news so unexpectedly communicated to the As
sembly ofthe destruction of England, and asking
when and in what form that remarkable event had
been brought about? The truth, however, is, that
of all this not a single word was uttered in the
Assembly. Neither Mounier nor any other person
talked ofthe destruction of England; neither Mira.
beau nor any other person made any such reply as
he assumes to himself. The whole origin of this
fiction was, that, while Mirabeau was writing his
Courrier de Provence, exactly what he has stated
passed in a private conversation, at which he was
present. Brissot de Warville used the words which
he has ascribed to Mounier, and Dumount those
which he has claimed for himself. He thought the
dialogue too good and too happily expressed to be
lost ; he made himself the hero of it, and placed
the scene in the National Assembly ; and this,

1789. HIS EARLY LIFE, PART II. Ill
though he well knew that Brissot, Dumont, Mou
nier, and all the members of the Assembly, could
give evidence of the falsehood of his statement,
and which, indeed, Mounier, took occasion formally
to do in the justification of his own conduct, which
he not long afterwards published.
Of all Mirabeau's extraordinary talents, his
faculty of availing himself of the knowledge and
abilities of others was perhaps the most extraor
dinary. As an author, he has published the works
of others, and, with their permission, under his own
name, and as if they were his own. The eight
octavo volumes which he published on the Prussian
Monarchy wrere entirely, as to every thing but the
style, the work of M. de Mauvillon. His tracts
upon finance were Claviere's ; the substance of his
work on the Cincinnati was to be found in an
American pamphlet ; his pamphlet on the opening
of the Scheldt was Benjamin Vaughan's ; and I
once saw him very eager to undertake a great work
on geography, of which he was totally ignorant, in
the expectation that M. de Rochette, a geographer
of great merit, and with whom he had contracted'
great intimacy, would supply him with all the ma
terials for it. As an orator, he on many occasions
delivered in the National Assembly speeches as his
own, which had been composed for him by others ;
and so much confidence had he in the persons who
thus contributed to establish his reputation, that he
has sometimes, to my knowledge, read at the tri
bune of the Assembly speeches which he had not
even cast his eyes upon before, and which were as
new to himself as to his admiring audience.

112 NARRATIVE OF HIS EARLY LIFE. 1789.
I was again obliged to leave Paris by the end of
September, that I might not lose the Quarter Ses
sions. I left it with a much less favourable opinion
ofthe state of public affairs than that which I had
entertained when I arrived there. I found the
most exaggerated and extravagant notions of liberty
entertained by many, and the most violent and
bitter animosities prevailing, and all that disposition
to violence on the part of the lower orders of the
people, which, a few days afterwards, manifested
itself in the insurrection that ended in bringing the
Royal family to Paris. -

CORRESPONDENCE.

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

1780—1783. Letter I.
Gray's Inn, June 6. 1780.
At last, then, my dear Roget, my mind may be
s&mewhat at ease. The salutary air of Lausanne,
and your great attention to your health, have, thank
Gdd, enabled you to'-wgrte. a letter which has given
me the greatest joy. /^Fforn/the. moment when I
ought to have take'nJeave of ^yo*u,in the coach at
Rochester, but couldnot, 'beca.us.ev, I perceived I
had not sufficient fortifajtie fqr the'reremony, to the
instant that I received yc^JeJter^from Lausanne,
I have never thought of you" %fth6ut anxiety. I
had no sooner read any of your letters from Geneva,
than immediately the melancholy reflection rose in
my mind, that you were ill ; and that fourteen days
had elapsed since my last news from you. But what
was my anxiety when sometimes fourteen days were
added to that, before we had another letter ; and
perhaps, from the delay of posts, even more. But
I may flatter myself that, hereafter, the delay of
VOL. I. I

1 14< LETTERS TO June,
receiving news from you will be no otherwise dis
agreeable, than as it will delay the pleasure of hear
ing that you continue to grow better. I will en
deavour that my imagination shall be as active iri
magnifying to myself your increasing health and
strength, as it was once busy, to my torment, in re
presenting every circumstance that concerned you
in too gloomy colours. Yes, my dear friend, the love
of you and my dear sister will now be rewarded
with uninterrupted felicity, I hope, in this life ; it
is not presumptuous to say, I am sure it will in that
to come. i
The shameful means, by which, as I related to
you in a former letter, names were procured to the
petition for repealing the Catholic Act, did not
give one any idea that the party could be either
very formidable or numerous : but you know how
dangerous an engine religion is, when employed
upon the minds of thei ignorant ; so dangerous, in
deed, that it is formidable in any hands, however
weak and contemptible. The Methodists, the fol
lowers of Wesley, and the sectaries of Whitfield,
were the first, if not to raise, at least to join, the
cry against Popery ; and it should seem, from the
effects that have been produced, that no art has
been left untried, which either could magnify the
terrors of the people, by painting to their imagin
ation in the most glaring colours all the horrors of
Popery, or could infuse among them a mistaken
zeal and a dangerous spirit of fanaticism. Oneway
or other, 40,000 persons were prevailed on to sign
the petition. Lord George Gordon, that he might
give it greater weight, or rather, that he might by

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 115
.violence force it upon the House, advertised in the
newspapers as president, and in the name of (what
they style themselves) the Protestant Association,
the day on which he purposed presenting the pe
tition to the House, at the same time desiring the
attendance of all the petitioners ; and " as no hall
is capable of containing 40,000 men " (such were
the words ofthe advertisement), they were required
to assemble in St. George's Fields, wearing blue
cockades as a distinction by which they might know
one another. The concourse of people on the ap
pointed day, which was last Friday, was astonishing.
You know how difficult it is to judge with accuracy
ofthe numbers of a multitude assembled in an open
field. By the largest computation I have heard,
and which is certainly very much exaggerated,
there were 100,000 in the fields; but, by the most
moderate accounts, no less than 14,000 accom
panied Lord George to the House of Commons.
When I arrived at Westminster, whither I went to
hear a debate that was to come on in the House of
Lords upon a motion of the Duke of Richmond, I
found the large opening (which you may remember)
between the Parliament House and Westminster
Abbey, all the avenues of the House, and the
adjoining streets, thronged with people wearing
blue cockades. They seemed to consist, in a great
measure, of the lowest rabble ; men who, without
doubt, not only had never heard any of the argu
ments for or against toleration, but who were utterly
ignorant of the very purport of the petition. To
give you one instance : a miserable fanatic who
accosted me, not indeed with any friendly design,
i 2

11 °* LETTERS TO June,
but to question me where my cockade was, which,
I very civilly informed him I had dropped out of
my hat in the crowd, told me that the reign of the
Romans had lasted too long — the object of the
petition, you know, is only to repeal an Act 1 that
passed the year before last. As I think there is
much to be learned by studying human nature, even
in its most humiliating and disgusting forms, I would
fain have mingled in a circle which I saw assembled
round a female preacher, who, by her gestures and
actions, seemed to be well persuaded, or desirous of
persuading others, that she was animated by some
supernatural spirit ; but I found it attended with
some little danger : the want of a cockade was a
sure indication of a want of the true faith, and I
did not long remain unquestioned as to my religious
principles. My joining, however, in the cry of
" No Popery ! " soon pacified my inquisitors, or
rather, indeed, gained me their favour ; for a very
devout butcher insisted upon shaking hands with
me as a token of his friendship. Upon my getting
into the House of Lords, I found my Lord Mans
field, and five or six peers, who were all that were
yet assembled, seemingly in great consternation
from the news they had just received of Lord Stor-
mont's being in great danger from the populace.
That lord, however, soon made his appearance ; he
had been treated rudely, but not very outrageously,
by the mob. Lord Hillsborough and several other
i There is a very good account of the object of this Act, and of the
circumstances under which it was passed, in Burke's speech to the
electors of Bristol.3
a This and the following notes, in the Correspondence, are inserted
by the Editors.

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 117
peers came in soon after, with their hair dishevelled,
having lost their bags in the scuffle they had to get
into the House. Lord Bathurst, the late Chan
cellor, was pulled in, by the attendants out of the
hands of the populace. Several noblemen, among
others Lord Sandwich, seeing the danger, had re
turned home ; so that the House was rather thin.
The Duke of Richmond, notwithstanding, rose to
speak upon the motion he was about to make. He
had proceeded in his speech for about an hour,
though with frequent interruptions from the thun
dering of the mob at the doors of the House, and
the shouting thatwas heard without, when one of
the peers abruptly entered to inform the Lords that
the populace had forced Lord Boston out of his
coach, and that his life was thought to be in the
greatest danger. Several lords immediately offered
to go out and rescue him ; but, by the assistance of
the attendants and some of the people about the
House, this was rendered unnecessary. Not long
after, word was brought that Lord Ashburnham was
in the same situation, surrounded by the mob and
in great danger ; at last, however, he was dragged
into the House over the heads of the people, and
apparently much hurt. The tumult becoming every
moment more violent, it was found impossible to go
on with any business ; and at half-past eight the
House adjourned. Thus far as to what I was my
self a witness to.
At the House of Commons, the lobby was so
much crowded with the petitioners, that the mem
bers could hardly get in ; and none, it is said, were
suffered to pass without giving in their names to
i 3

118 LETTERS TO JUD6)
Lord George Gordon, and promising to vote for
the repeal. As soon as the House sat upon busi
ness, the petition was taken into consideration ;
but certainly nothing could be done upon it then,
for many members had been deterred from coming
to the House, and those who were present were
far from enjoying any freedom of debate. A mo
tion was therefore made to defer the further con-
sideration of it till the following Tuesday, and car
ried by a majority of 190 against 9- Lord George
then came into the gallery over the lobby, and
harangued the populace : he told them their peti
tion was as good as rejected ; that if they expected
redress they must keep in a body, or meet day
after day till the Catholic Act was repealed. Some
of his friends, who stood behind him, besought him,
with the greatest earnestness, not to excite the
people to measures which must be destructive to
themselves; but nothing could deter this frantic
incendiary, till he was by violence forced back into
the House. The clamours of the people were now
become so loud, and there appeared among them
symptoms of such a dangerous temper, that it was
absolutely necessary to call up the Guards. This
expedient was so far successful that the lobby and
the avenues ofthe House were soon cleared ; but,
without doors, the fury of the populace was un
governable. The Bishop of Lincoln, the Chan
cellor's brother, was torn out of his coach as he was
going to the House; happily he escaped out of
the hands of the mob, and took refuge in a house
in Palace Yard ; the mob, however, pursued him,
broke the windows, and insisted so resolutely on
being admitted to search for him, that it was im-

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 119
possible to keep them out any longer than while
the Bishop changed his dress, and made his escape
over the garden wall. The tumult continued till
very late at night, when the mob divided into dif
ferent parties and broke into three Romish chapels
(two of which belonged to Ambassadors), tore
down the altars, the organs, and decorations of the
chapels, brought them out into the street and
burned them. Not content with this, at the Sar
dinian Ambassador's, they carried the fire into the
chapel : the inside was presently consumed, but
fortunately no other damage was done.
It is well none of our patriots, except that mad
man, Lord George Gordon, promote these disturb
ances. The opposition, in general, are entirely
against the object of the petition. I myself heard
the Duke of Richmond declare, upon one of the
occasions when he was interrupted in his" speech,
that ' he would ever oppo'se the repeal of the Act,
that he was determined always to defend liberty of
conscience in all sects of religion : those were
his unalterable sentiments ; no fears, no hopes,
should ever make him change them ; they were
what he would not scruple to go out and declare
to the multitudes who were assembled at the doors
of the House, though they were twice 50,000.'
Several of the rioters were taken, some in the very
act of carrying fire into the chapel ; these deluded
wretches will be tried and executed without delay,
for, the following day, the Lords voted unanimously,
that an address should be presented to the King,
to give directions for prosecuting with rigour the
authors, abettors, and instruments of these out-
i 4

*20 LETTERS TO June>
rages. Severity is a very dangerous instrument
for suppressing religious fury. You know how
often the guiltiest sufferers in such a cause are
elevated into martyrs, and how a fanatical preacher
may work upon his hearers to court a death, which
is instantly to be rewarded with a crown of glory.
And yet in the present circumstances there seems
no other expedient. This rage of mistaken zeal
is the more extraordinary, and the more to be
dreaded, because it has no visible cause. The
Catholics have not, of late, used any extraordinary
pomp in their mass^houses, their numbers have not
increased, nor have they in any respect made a
bad use of the relaxations given them by the late
Act Stories, indeed, have, of late, been very art
fully and very maliciously circulated of their
making a number of proselytes ; but not one in
stance of this that I can find is well authenticated.
As to the hypocrites who excite these outrages,
they affect the greatest moderation. In their ad
vertisement, they requested the Protestants (for
they pretend that none are Protestants but the
petitioners) to behave with decency and order.
What ! — summon 40,000 fanatics to meet together,
and expect them to be orderly ! What is it but to
invite hungry wretches to a banquet, and at the
same time enjoin them not to eat ? But the real in
tentions of these men are evident from some hand
bills they distributed, under the same pretext of
inculcating moderation and the spirit of peace. In
these they say that, as there was great reason to
suspect that a number of Papists intended to min
gle in disguise among the petitioners for the pur-

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 121
pose of raising riots and disturbances, they entreated
the Protestants not to return their insults or vio
lence, but to secure the aggressors quietly, and
give them up to the constables who should attend.
Who does not see that the former part of this ad
monition was all that was intended to have any
effect, and that when once the terrors of the people
were set afloat, every purpose of it was answered ?
On Sunday night the mob assembled again in
Moorfields, broke into a mass-house that had lately
been built there, and into some adjoining houses
which were inhabited by Catholics, destroyed all the
furniture, and every thing they could lay hands on,
and at last set fire to the houses. Five were con
sumed besides the mass-house. Last night, they
committed great outrages at the houses of several
persons who had appeared as witnesses against
those who were taken. Afterwards they broke all
the windows and destroyed the furniture at the
house of Sir George Saville, a man wdio bears an
excellent character, who is one of the most active
men in the opposition, and who was the very per
son who brought up the York petition to the Par
liament ; but all these merits it seems are cancelled
by his having moved, two years ago, to give some
privileges to an unfortunate class of men, who were
unjustly the objects of very rigorous laws. I hope
a sudden exertion of severity will put a stop to
these enormities ; but I confess I am not very san
guine in my hopes, for when a torrent of religious
fury is once let loose, who shall say to it, "Thus far
shalt thou go, and no farther ? "
Though part of my paper remains unfilled, I

122 LETTERS TO Jun6j
must here bid you good night, unless I postpone
sending off this letter till another post, and I know
you would be impatient to remain so long without
hearing from your sincere friend,
Same. Romilly.

Letter II.
Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, June 9. 1780.
I would not suffer a post to pass, after the
alarming intelligence which my last letter con
tained, without writing to you ; but it will be ne
cessary first to inform you, that we are now quite
at peace again, and that last night the most pro
found tranquillity reigned in every part of Lon
don. The evening of Tuesday, the day when I
wrote to you last, was attended with the most vio
lent outrages and excesses that can be imagined.
I informed you, I believe, that the further con
sideration of the petition was referred to that
day. Prodigious multitudes, wearing blue cock
ades, assembled, as before, in Palace Yard ; but,
on the first appearance of a crowd, guards,
both foot and horse, were drawn up, and formed
an avenue for the Members to pass to the House.
But this martial appearance, far from intimidating
the mob, only rendered them more insolent : they
boldly paraded the streets with colours and music,
and attempted to pass through the Park to Buck
ingham House ; but were stopped by a very strong
party of guards stationed there. The Lords,
however, were suffered to go on to the House

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 123
with no outrage, though they were followed by
the hisses and reproaches of the people, till the
arrival of Lord Sandwich. His chariot was stopped
at the end of Parliament. Street,-where there hap
pened not to be any guards, and the chariot doors
were immediately torn open. At that instant
three light horsemen rode up to his relief, but all
the assistance they could give him was to make
room- for his carriage to turn round ; this was ac
cordingly effected, though with difficulty, and he
drove back to the Admiralty with the utmost
rapidity ; but some of the most daring of the
rioters seized the horses' bridles, and again stopped
him. I expected that moment to have seen him
torn in pieces ; but, leaping quickly out of the
chariot, he saved himself in a coffee-house, and
a very strong, party of guards immediately rode
up and kept off the mob. About five o'clock,
the rioters were become so outrageous, that there
was no possibility of awing them but by reading
the Riot Act, which (you know) gives a right to
fire upon the mob if they do not disperse. Upon
this a great part of the rioters quitted Palace Yard ;
but they only quitted it with an intention to wreak
their fury upon the objects of their resentment in
other parts of the town. One party went straight
to the house of the justice of peace who had'
read the act, and entirely demolished it. Another,
and a much stronger body, marched to Newgate,
demanded the release of the persons who were
confined there for burning the ambassadors' cha
pels ; and, this demand not being complied with,
broke open the doors, set at liberty all the felons

124 LETTERS TO June;
and debtors, and set fire to the prison and to the
keeper's house, which were both presently con
sumed. They then proceeded to the New Prison
at Clerkenwell, and set free all the prisoners who
were there in confinement. About one o'clock
in the morning they attacked the house of Lord
Mansfield ; his Lordship had but just time to es
cape by a back door when they broke in. A bon
fire was immediately made, in the street, of his
furniture ; and with merciless fury they threw
into it all his books, and, among others, many
manuscripts of inestimable value. At last, they
set fire to the house, which was presently burned
down to the ground. The soldiers, after having for
a long time endured the insults of the populace,
were at last obliged to fire. Eight or nine persons
were killed, and several wounded. The same night,
the house of Sir John Fielding was burned; and in
different parts all over the town the houses of Ca
tholics were pulled down or set on fire. Some of
the mob at last insisted upon lights being put
up at every window, in joy for the destruction of
Newgate ; the illumination accordingly was gene
ral. You can hardly represent to yourself so
melancholy a sight as this appearance of involun
tary rejoicing, and, at the same time, to behold the
sky glowing on every side with the light of differ
ent conflagrations, as if the city had been taken
by an enemy. The terror which these acts of
violence spread throughout the town is not easy
to be conceived. The next day, Wednesday, it
was reported every where that, that night, the
houses of the Secretaries of State, of every Bishop,

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 125
of every Catholic, of every justice of the peace,
and of all the King's tradesmen, were marked out
for destruction. The Catholics, and many other
persons, moved all their effects ; their neighbours
as well as themselves, fled into the country, or
waited, in the utmost horror, the approach of
evening. The panic which had seized upon the
people gave birth to a multitude of alarming re
ports ; at one time it was said that none of the
soldiers would do their duty, but were all ready to
join with the rioters ; at another, that there were
insurrections as dangerous in the country, and
that 30,000 colliers were upon their wayto Lon
don to join the insurgents. The King and his
Privy Council took the most effectual way to put
a stop to the enormities which were being com
mitted ; they ordered a great number of the regi
ments of the militia to march straight to London,
and issued a proclamation commanding all persons
to keep within their houses at night, and warning
them of the ill consequences of neglecting this
injunction, as the King was resolved to exert the
military force to put an end to these rebellious
and treasonable practices. Martial law was thus
established, by which all persons taken, concerned
in these riots, were liable to be tried by a court
martial, and executed upon the spot ; but, as this
proclamation was not universally known, and but
few of the militia regiments arrived in town by
Wednesday night, many daring outrages were still
committed. Several houses were pulled down,
the King's Bench prison thrown open, and about
700 prisoners released, and the prison set on fire

126 LETTERS TO June,
and consumed. But the insolence and audacious
ness of these men was not confined to night ; in
the middle of the day they made bonfires of the
goods of several Papists openly in the streets ;
in some places they went in a large body, from
house to house, exacting contributions, which they
called mob-money. The excesses which these
delirious wretches committed are inconceivable :
among other houses, they threatened to pull down
that of a Catholic, a distiller in Holborn ; the
man, to save his house, told the rioters that he
would give them out liquor as long as they
pleased ; this stipulation was immediately con
cluded on, and spirituous liquors were accord
ingly handed out to the mob in large vessels ; they
drank to such a degree that numbers of them lay
intoxicated in the middle of the way, and some
died. But all this could not save the poor man's
house, which was set fire to the following night.
Last night, and to-day, every thing has been at
peace : we have two encampments, one in St.
James's Park, and another in Hyde Park ; no man
is suffered to wear a blue cockade in the streets,
and we have no doubt that the rioters are entirely
quelled. I have just received news that Lord
George Gordon is taken ; the person who told
me saw him conducted through the Park by a
party of light horse, under the care of the Usher
ofthe Black Rod. I have not time to write more
to you at present, but you may depend upon hear
ing from some of us by the next post.
Your affectionate brother,
Saml. Romilly,

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 127
Letter III.
Dear Roget, June 13. im
I should not write to you again so soon, but
for the sake of fulfilling the promise I made you
in my last. Such a profound tranquillity reigns in
London, that the late scenes of riot and confusion
seem nothing but a dream. Indeed, the outrages
which have been committed this week past were
so unexpected and so unaccountable, that one
would be inclined to believe one's senses had de
ceived one, did not the ruins of houses and other
vestiges of the fury of the populace in all parts of
the town make it evident that these calamities are
but too real. In the account I have given you of
these transactions, I mentioned no circumstance
but what I was either an eyewitness of myself,
or heard from authority which I had no reason to
doubt. I could not disguise the truth, though I
was afraid it would alarm you ; much less would I
be so cruel as to exaggerate the horror of my narra
tion. It is really no exaggeration to say that, on
Tuesday and Wednesday nights, London had the
appearance of a city taken by storm. The fires
blazing in different parts of the town, the terror
and dismay of one part of the inhabitants, and the
rage and licentiousness ofthe other, were equal to
what one can imagine in such a catastrophe. There
seems no probability that these monstrous excesses
were concerted beforehand, or that they formed
part of any regular plan to overturn the Govern
ment. They appear to me to have been only the
accidental effects of the ungovernable fury and

128 LETTERS TO June,
licentiousness of a mob, , who gathered courage
from their numbers, and who, having ventured on
one daring act, found their only safety to lie in
universal havoc and devastation. When once the
rioters had gone so far as to burn down Newgate,
one cannot be surprised at their entering on any
enterprise, however daring ; for, besides that they
thought they might go on with impunity when
they had left no prisons wherein to confine them,
they gained as an accession to, or rather as leaders
of their party, a set of criminals whose lives were
already forfeited to their country. One of these
wretches, who was to have been hanged the fol
lowing day, appeared at my Lord Mansfield's on
horseback, leading on the rioters. But religion
has certainly been used, and too successfully, as an
instrument to excite these feuds ; not that I think
any the wildest fanatics were concerned in break
ing open the prisons, but they were certainly
wrought up to a pitch of fury, which made them
capable of any acts of violence against the Catho
lics, and ripe for any mischief that could be repre
sented as serviceable to their religion. I can give
you some proofs how grossly the people have been
deceived and played upon by some designing vil
lains. I have heard from three persons (all strangers
to each other) who joined in conversation with the
populace, that it was a current opinion among
them that the King was a Papist. Some were
sure of it : they pretended to know that he heard
mass privately, and that his confessor had the
direction of all political concerns. A woman told
a friend of mine that she hoped to see the streets

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 129
stream with the blood of Papists. But nothing
shows more evidently what base arts have been
practised to rouse the fears of the people, and
excite them to madness, than a hand-bill which was
distributed about the streets on the morning of
Tuesday. I will transcribe it verbatim, for it now
lies before me. " England in blood ! On Thurs
day morning, the 8th instant, will be published
The Thunderer, addressed to Lord George Gordon
and the glorious Protestant Association, showing
the necessity of their persevering and being united
as one man against the infernal designs of the
Ministry to overturn the religious and civil liber
ties of this country, in order to introduce Popery
and slavery. In this paper will be given a full
account of the bloody tyrannies, persecutions,
plots, and inhuman butcheries exercised on the
professors ofthe Protestant religion in England by
the See of Rome, together with the names of the
martyrs and their sufferings, highly necessary to
be read at this important moment by every En
glishman who loves his God and his country. To
which will be added, some reasons why the few
misguided people now in confinement for destroy
ing the Romish chapels should not suffer, and the
dreadful consequences of an attempt to bring them
to punishment." The author of this paper has
been since taken into custody.
Lord George Gordon underwent an examination
last Friday before the Privy Council during three
hours. Nothing more, it is reported, appeared
against him than an inflammatory letter which he
had sent to be inserted in one of the newspapers,
vol. i. k

130 LETTERS TO June,
wherein he applauded the rioters for what they had
done, and encouraged them to further excesses ;
and some private letters to confidential friends in
Scotland, relating the events that had passed in
London, and speaking of them in terms of high
approbation ; but there was no evidence of his
having planned any revolution. The Privy Council
committed Lord George a prisoner to the Tower.
From what I knew of Lord George Gordon before
the present disturbances, (which, by the way, was
only by having heard him often speak in the House
of Commons,) I never thought him a man from
whom his country had much to dread. He spoke,
indeed, upon all occasions ; but his speeches were
incoherent and ridiculous. One day, I remember,
he read a newspaper as part of his speech ; at
another time, he kept the whole House waiting
two hours while he read them an Irish pamphlet.
He seemed the less dangerous as he had not the
support of either party ; one day he attacked the
Ministry, the next the Opposition, and sometimes
both the one and the other. It has happened to
him to divide the House, when he alone voted for
a question, to which every other member gave his
negative. Yet what dreadful effects may not a
mistaken zeal produce even in such hands as these!
though it must be confessed that Lord George
Gordon is not destitute of qualities which, in an
age when religion had greater influence upon the
minds of men than it has at present, might have
raised him to be the scourge of his country. He
is endowed with a spirit of enthusiasm, and with
the most determined resolution ; add to this, that

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 131
his manner of speaking not being in the least
declamatory, but in the style of conversation, is
most capable of working an effect upon an igno
rant audience.
I believe I did not mention in my former letter
that these civil broils have converted me into a
soldier. Gray's Inn was one of the places which
these determined enemies to all law threatened to
lay in ashes. All the law societies (for Lincoln's
Inn and the Temple were likewise threatened with
destruction) resolved to stand upon their defence.
Accordingly, we all armed ourselves, and kept
watch at our different gates for several nights.
The Temple, however, was the only Inn of Court
that was attacked ; and there the rioters retreated
very precipitately when they found what resistance
* was made to them. This example is followed all
over the town : the inhabitants of almost everv
parish are forming themselves into associations to
protect their houses and property ; so that, here
after, should any disturbance of this kind happen,
it will be very shortly quelled, without the assist
ance of the soldiery. And we shall esteem it no
small happiness to be able to do without them ; for,
though we are greatly indebted to the military
power for saving our effects from being plundered,
and our houses from being burned, it is no very
comfortable sight to Englishmen to see encamp
ments at their very doors, and soldiers patroling all
their streets. I should not omit to mention that
the government have conducted themselves very
prudently in not using any unconstitutional reme
dies against these outrages : they have taken pri-
k 2

?

182 LETTERS TO June,
soners all the rioters they could find, and mean to
let them have a fair trial by jury. We have just
received news, that at Bath they have been dis
turbed with the same riots as broke out here : se
veral Romish chapels and houses have been burned;
but when this intelligence was sent from thence,
peace was pretty well restored. This information
is certainly authentic ; but the reports we have of
the same fury raging at York, at Bury, and in
other parts of the country, are, I hope, entirely
groundless ; indeed, we have had so many false
reports, that one knows not what to believe. At
one time it was said that the rioters had broken
into the Bank, at another that they had attempted
the Tower ; again, that Lord Peters's house in the
country was levelled with the ground, and that he
himself was murdered ; in short, every tale of*
horror to which the fears and the credulity of the
people could give birth and strength, was circulated
with astonishing rapidity throughout every part of
the town.
It has been no small comfort to me, amidst all
these tumults, to reflect that you and my dear sister
were far removed from them. I could not turn
my thoughts to you, without agreeably contrasting
in my mind the quiet you enjoy at Lausanne,
amidst all the riches of nature, a fertile country,
and a benignant climate, to the rage and uproar
that revelled among us, and set before us, in the
most shocking points of view, the enormous vices
of some of our fellow-creatures, and the miseries
and afflictions of others. Not but that I was aware
how far the baneful influence of these disorders

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 133
must have spread, and that they must have occa
sioned some uneasy moments, even at Lausanne.
Nature did not form you to say with the inhuman
Lucretius, —
" Suave mari magno, turbantibus aequora ventis,
E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem ; "
especially when those you saw struggling with the
tempest were united to you by the tenderest bonds
of love and friendship. But how happy am I that
I can tell you (so fully is peace restored to us) that
the tranquillity of my beloved hermits need not
hereafter be disturbed by any melancholy reflec
tions on the situation of affairs with us. Enjoy
then, my dear Roget, that repose so congenial to
your disposition, and may it soon restore you to
perfect health. Your affectionate brother,
Saml. Romilly.

Letter IV.
Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, Oct. 27. 1780.
Your inquiries after my health, as well as
those of my dear Kitty, are so frequent and so
pressing, that they seem to require of me a short
history of my indisposition ; it shall be but short.
I dignify it with the name of history, because, as I
am now very nearly, if not quite recovered, nothing
will be wanting to make it complete. It begins,
then, with the late riots. For several days before
they commenced, I had attended constantly at the
House of Lords to hear the debates, where one is
K 3

13h LETTERS TO Oct.
obliged to stand the whole time. This slight
fatigue was increased by being pressed in the
crowds of the petitioners, and still more by my
sitting up three successive nights when the confu
sion was greatest, and by running about all day
instead of taking rest or even giving my usual ap
plication to study ; for I cannot boast the same
command over myself with Archimedes, to wrap
myself up in meditation when my city is given up
to be plundered. After this, you will easily imagine
I was not in a condition very proper for entering
upon military discipline ; yet, without refusing to
join an association which I wished ardently to see
formed, and which I had warmly promoted, I could
not avoid it. Accordingly I began to learn my
exercise. The ardour of our association deter
mined them to indulge in no relaxation, but to
exercise every day, for two hours each day, with
out intermission ; and this, too, in very warm wea
ther. The consequence was, that after persevering
for some time, I was obliged to withdraw. Nor was
I the only person who found the fatigue too much.
The cold bath, from frequent use, was no longer a
remedy. I was advised to try the sea. I did so,
but unfortunately had a slight fever at the time ;
bathing increased it, and so much that I arrived
in town very ill. The care of my good friend,
Dr. Watson, soon delivered me from my fever ;
my strength returned by degrees, and I am now
so well recovered that I should resume my regi
mentals, were it not that, most of our association
being out of town, our summer campaign is at an
end. My physician tells me that I shall have

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 135
better health as I advance farther in life : so that,
unlike most men, I may regard the revolution of
time, and the approaches of old age, as desirable.
The worst effect of my illness has been to make
me lose some time. My doctor forbade me to look
into any books but such as are merely amusing. I
followed this prescription at first ; but I had soon
the courage to disregard it, and found myself grow
much better by my disobedience.
There is great reason to presume that the cha
racter of our new Parliament will not differ mate
rially from that of its predecessor ; for there are but
150 new members. The greater number of the old
members who have been thrown out at this elec
tion are ofthe court party ; but, as the ministry al
ways commanded such great majorities, one cannot
thence conclude that the opposition have gathered
any strength. The most famous of those rejected
members of the last Parliament is Burke. Though
he was thrown out at Bristol, he certainly might
have been elected for some borough ; but it seems
he is'resolved to retire altogether from public af
fairs. To withdraw his assistance from the public
counsels at so difficult and dangerous a Crisis does
not, in my opinion, admit of any excuse ; even
though one should make every allowance for what
a man of nice honour must feel under the disgrace
of being rejected by his former constituents, and
under the torrent of abuse which the newspapers
have long vomited forth against him. Surely, the
nicest sensibility to injury can never so disorder a
man's judgment, as to make him mistake the sordid
traders of Bristol, and venal gazetteers, for an un
it 4

136 LETTERS TO Oct.
grateful public. But it is not in the dregs of
modern patriotism that we must look for a Phocion
exhorting his son, as he drinks off the poison to
which he has been sentenced by an ungrateful
country, never to forget that even veneration of
his father's memory is a duty subordinate to love
towards his country.
I have lately read a pamphlet published by the
Protestant Association about a year ago, and en
titled, An Appeal to the People of Great Britain.
Had I read it before, and known how much it had
been circulated among the common people, I should
not have been at a loss to account for the violence of
the petitioners' religious zeal. It is extremely ill
written ; the reasoning such as refutes itself; but
the author addresses himself to the passions of his
readers in a strain of furious declamation, well
calculated to work up enthusiasts to very madness.
He professes to favour toleration ; but his book is
such an exhortation to revenge and persecution, as
the days of Charles the Ninth never, perhaps, pro
duced. But judge yourself whether I exaggerate.
" Let us call to remembrance," these are the very
words of the appeal — " Let us call to remembrance
the massacre at Paris ; there Popery appeared in
its true colours, drunken with the blood of the saints
and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus. Whilst
Popery has existence upon earth, let it be remem
bered, though, to the disgrace of humanity, let it
be remembered with horror, that on Saint Bartho
lomew's day thousands and tens of thousands of
Protestants were murdered in France in cold blood.
Smithfield, Oxford, Cambridge, and many other

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 137
places have a voice crying aloud, ' Beware of Popery.'
O Britons ! let not the blood of the martyrs be for
gotten, or their sufferings effaced from our memories,
or from those of our children to the latest posterity.
Are there none living in these days whose ancestors
suffered by the unparalleled massacre of Ireland?"
Is not this dictated by the vindictive spirit which
animates the war-song of the American savages ?
Do you remember that inserted in Dr. Robertson's
History of America ? — " The bones of our coun
trymen lie uncovered ; their bloody bed has not
been washed clean ; their spirits cry against us.
Let us go and devour the people by whom they
were slain. Lift the hatchet; console the dead;
tell them that they shall be avenged." They cer
tainly will bear comparison ; and so far it is to the
advantage of the savage, that he honestly owns
himself to be actuated by a principle of revenge,
while the pious Protestant, affects to have at heart
the good of mankind and the glory of God. He
has not omitted the argument of all persecutors,
that they seek the happiness of those they perse
cute. " To tolerate Popery," he says, " is to be
instrumental to the perdition of immortal souls now
existing, and of millions of spirits that at present
have no existence but in the prescience of God,
and is the direct way to provoke the vengeance of
an holy andjealous God, to bring down destruction
on our fleets and armies." So that, according to
the arguments of this wretch, persecution is a reli
gious duty !
Adieu, believe me to be, &c,
Saml; Romilly.

138 LETTERS TO Dec.

Letter V.
Gray's Inn, Dec. 12. 1780.
You ask me, my dear sister, if the circle of
my friends is as small as ever. Yes, to the full ;
less, I should rather say. All the few friends I had
here two years ago are now scattered in different
parts of the earth. Yourselves banished to the
distance of above six hundred miles ; Greenway,
always in camp, or in winter quarters, does not pass
a month in town in the whole year ; Joseph Gar
nault, in China ; and even Appia (with whom you
know I had contracted some intimacy), at Peters-
burgh. My brother and our dear Jane are all I
have left to console me for being separated from
you : with them I dine almost every day, and fre
quently pass my evenings. New acquaintance I
have none ; how, indeed, should I make them,
since I am still as backward to introduce myself
into company as ever? One acquaintance, it is
true, I have made since you were in England ; a
friend I ought to say, if to take the greatest in
terest in my concerns, and to load me with un
affected civilities, -can give a claim to that title. I
mean Mr. Spranger, a name, I believe, perfectly
new to you. He is a counsellor, under whom I
have studied almost ever since you quitted Eng
land. Mrs. Spranger is one of the most amiable
women I know ; not very young, indeed, for she
has four children, but still handsome, and possess
ing the most engaging manners. At their house,
where I frequently dine or sup (though less often
than I am pressed to do), I meet a good deal of

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 139
company, which, consisting mostly of men of sense
and education, is very agreeable. But the most
engaging society, that, my dear Catherine, of your
amiable sex, I seldom enjoy, for I am hardly ever
of their card parties ; besides that, it is not at a
whist table that your sex appears in its native
charms. With so small an acquaintance, you will
easily conceive that I seek for amusement in my
studies, and there I am never disappointed. My
rooms are exceedingly lively, and capable of them
selves to secure me from indulging in melancholy,
so that you may discard those apprehensions which
I persuade myself I discover under your inquiries.
In the depth of winter, the moment the sun peeps
ct, I am in the country. A cold country indeed
t is ; for, having only one row of houses between
ioe and Highgate and Hampstead, a north-west
wind (sharp as your piercing bise) blows full
against my chambers : fortunately I am sheltered
from the north-east. What renders my chambers
very comfortable is a tolerable collection of books,
which, I confess, somewhat extravagantly, I have
lately purchased. Thus far to my dear sister;
and now, without taking leave of her, to her hus
band. Alas ! my dear Roget, you quite despair, then,
of returning to England. For myself, I cannot
yet resign that hope. So much, indeed, is my
happiness attached to it, I must be cruel to my
self were I forward to give it up. As to your
little boy, if you should be resolved to have
him over in the spring, be assured that, thinking
every other concern of less importance than your

140 LETTERS TO Dec.
happiness, I shall not hesitate, whatever may be
my emyloyments, to quit them all, and to be the
bearer of joy and comfort to my dear friends.
But, at the same time, I am forced to add that,
should you (as I hope you will) alter your inten
tion of having him sent to you, or should there be
any other means of sending him with safety, you
must not think of seeing me. It can hardly be
necessary to dwell upon my reasons for denying
myself the happiness such a journey would afford
me. Having so much to do before I can be qua
lified for the employment I have chosen, and so
short a time in which to do it, all my moments
are precious ; they are now, indeed, become still
more so, by reason of the time which I was obliged
to lose during my illness in the summer. Were I
actuated by the bad ambition of gaining honours
or of winning applause, this would be but a poor
apology for being remiss in the duties of friend
ship ; but with you I need not enforce the neces
sity of fulfilling the prior duties one owes to one's
country, and unless I much mistake the intention
of my heart, my greatest ambition is "patrice im-
pendere vitam."
What do you think of Arnold's conduct?
You may well suppose he does not want advocates
here. I cannot join with them. If he thought
the Americans not justified in continuing the war,
after the offer of such favourable terms as the
commissioners held out to them, why did he keep
his command for two years afterwards? In my
opinion, they must be very extraordinary circum
stances indeed which can warrant a man's bearing

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 141
arms in a civil war on opposite sides. Arnold
will certainly, from his knowledge of the people
and the country, prove a very useful man. He has
published a proclamation, inviting the Americans
to enlist under his standard, for Clinton has em
powered him to raise a regiment for the service of
the King. It abounds with invectives against
France and the Congress, and, what seems to me
to come less from the heart, with high professions
of zeal to serve his country and assert its liberties.
One word in this proclamation I think very re
markable. He says that the Americans might
have been spared the calamities which they have
suffered for these two last years if, as prudently as
the Irish, they had accepted of the liberality of
Great Britain. Either the Americans were, at
first, contending for their rights, or they were not ;
if they were, it was not liberality, it was but strict
justice in us to acknowledge those rights, — a piece
of justice not very meritorious in us, since we were
forced into it. If, on the other hand, what they
contended for was not their undoubted right, but
an usurpation they sought to make upon the
parent country, the war on the side of the colonies
was, frpm the first, rebellion, and Arnold a traitor.
My brother says the word may have been inserted
inadvertently. What ! a word on which so much
depends : and in a solemn proclamation ! But
Arnold, they say, may in truth have discovered
his error ; he may now think that the Americans
were wrong from the beginning. But, admitting
this, surely the discovery of an error so fatal, and
which has been attended with sucn an effusion of

142 LETTERS TO Dec.
blood, should have left an honest man no inclin
ation to form new schemes of ambition, and to
embark with as much alacrity as ever in new en
terprises, where I see no reason why he may not
be as much mistaken as before.
The Congress, to justify their generals in the
severity exercised over Major Andre, who, as he
was returning from concerting measures with Ar
nold, was taken and hanged, have published a very
long account of that affair, with all the letters that
passed between the generals upon the occasion.
Major Andre's case was laid before a board con
sisting of fourteen field-officers, and it was their
unanimous opinion that he ought to suffer death ;
but they gave no other reasons for their sentence
than that it was conformable to the rules of war.
The arguments used by Clinton and Arnold in then-
letters to Washington, to prove that Andre could
not be considered as a spy, are, first, that he had
with him, when he was taken, a protection of
Arnold's, who was at that time acting under a
commission of the Congress, and, therefore, com
petent to give protections. Certainly he was, to all
strangers to his negotiation with Clinton, but not to
Andre, who knew him to be at that time a.traitor
to the Congress ; nay more, whose protection was
granted for no other purpose but to promote and
give effect to his treachery. In the second place,
they say that, at the time he was taken, he was
upon neutral ground ; but then they do not deny
that he had been within the American lines in
disguise. The letters written by Andre himself
show a firm, cool intrepidity, worthy a more glo-

1780. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 143
rious end. Writing to General Clinton, he requests
that his mother and sister may have the sale of his
commission ; as for himself, he says, he is " per
fectly tranquil in mind, and prepared for any fate
to which an honest zeal for the King's service may
have devoted" him. There is another short note
which he wrote to Washington the day before
his execution; it concludes with these words:
" Let me hope, Sir, if aught in my character im
presses you with esteem towards me, if aught in
my misfortunes marks me as the victim of policy
and not of resentment, I shall experience the
operation of these feelings in your breast by being
informed that I am not to die on a gibbet."
" But," say the Congress, " the practice and usage
of war were against his request, and made the in
dulgence he solicited inadmissible." The fate of
this unfortunate young man, and the manly style
of his letters, have raised more compassion here
than the loss of thousands in battle, and have ex
cited a warmer indignation against the Americans
than any former act of the Congress. When the
passions of men are so deeply affected, you will
not expect to find them keep within the bounds of
reason. Panegyrics on the gallant Andre are un^
bounded ; they call him the English Mutius, and
talk of erecting monuments to his memory. Cer
tainly no man in his situation could have behaved
with more determined courage ; but his situation
was by no means such as to admit of these exag
gerated praises. Arnold, in his letter to the Ame
ricans, charges the. Congress with having rejected
the offers of the English commissioners by their

144 LETTERS TO Jan.
own authority, and without ever consulting the
different Provinces. This, if true, was a very bold
step indeed ; but it may be said, that if the Pro
vinces have re-elected the same members to repre
sent them in Congress, they have tacitly confirmed
all their former measures ; but whether the fact is
so I cannot tell.
Burke has lately published the speech he made
to the people of Bristol, in which he had the cou
rage not only to vindicate the act for the tolera
tion of the Roman Catholics, but to give it the
highest encomiums. He concludes a very noble
panegyric on Sir George Saville, by saying, that
one of the actions which in his whole life does him
the greatest honour, is his having been the man
who brought so just and wise a bill into Parliament.
Your friend and affectionate brother,
Saml. Romilly.

Letter VI.
Dear Roget, Gra/S Inn» Jan- L 1781-
Use has not at all lightened your loss to
me. After an absence of eighteen months, I still
regret as much as ever that I am debarred the
happiness of your conversation. In my studies I
miss you yet more : I long to consult you upon
what I read, and to read over to you and take
your opinion on what I write. I have lately
learned Italian : do not censure me for such a
waste of time. I began to apply myself to it when
I was ill, and was forbidden any severer studies ;

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 145
and so easy a language is it, that I soon began to
read its prose writers with pleasure. I have just
read Machiavel's famous book, Del Principe. Had
Caesar Borgia, his hero, been as successful as he
was cruel and profligate, he would have been ex
actly the unjust man, stained and polluted with
every vice, whom Plato, in his Republic, proves
to be miserable in the midst of his prosperity, and
to whom he opposes his just man, despised and
persecuted. Though, in the end, his crimes
availed not this monster, Machiavel does not scru
ple to propose him as a model for the imitation of
princes ; and seems to lament that his great talents
could not give him the disposal of events. The
picture this Italian politician gives of human na
ture is the blackest that ever was painted ; but it
seems probable that he never travelled out of his
native country ; and though his acute penetra
tion may have given him a full insight into the
character of his countrymen, he was assuredly but
ill acquainted with human nature in general.
When he says that men are by nature hypocrites
and cowards, ungrateful and rapacious, this may
possibly be as exact a copy of the manners of
Italy, in an age just emerging from barbarism, as
his gloomy imagination could trace ; but for a re
presentation of the human species, how false and
preposterous is it ! " Princes," he says, " are not
to be bound by promises and oaths, for all men
are perfidious ; and were monarchs alone observant
of their faith, they would find themselves the dupes
of their own ridiculous scruples."1 He is the first
' Principe, chap. 18.
VOL. I. L

146 LETTERS TO Jan.
writer, perhaps, who, regarding mankind with the
eyes of a sullen misanthrope, has expressed no
indignation at what he saw, and seemed well con
tented that things should remain as they were.
Seeing men in the odious light in which he repre
sents them, Machiavel could not but have con
ceived a deadly hatred against them ; and, if so,
his book seems to me no longer a prodigy : for in
this institute of a tyrant, he has, consistently with
that hatred, set himself to arm with force, and with
every destructive art, the most cruel scourge of
mankind. The author of the Anti-Machiavel,
published by Voltaire, seems to have formed his
opinion of the human heart from the manners of
France, as much as Machiavel did from those of
Italy. Machiavel says, that no oppression of a
prince will so soon draw on him the hatred of his
subjects, as to rob theni of their property or wives ;
for these are wrongs which raise a more implacable
resentment than the murder of a father. The
Anti-Machiavelian, falling into the opposite ex
treme, says, that such gallantry, using that fashion
able phrase of the language he writes in, never
¦renders a prince odious. The story of Lucretia,
indeed, stands a little in his way; but he dex
terously removes that obstacle by supposing the
whole story a romance, — a convenient mode this
of getting rid of the great examples of ancient
virtue, where they obstruct a modern system or
remain a reproach to modern depravity.
Without doubt, you have had some account of
the dreadful hurricane and earthquake in the West
Indies ; but not, I imagine, such particular re-

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 147
lations as we have had here. They exceed in
horror any thing I ever read of. Wherever the
storm directed its course, it was attended with
desolation and death. The letters from the in
habitants of Bridgetown, in Barbadoes, contain
descriptions of the night they passed, when the
storm was at its worst, which are horrible beyond
conception. To the howling of the tempest was
added the noise of the houses falling on every
side, and of the shrieks and groans of the in
habitants who were crushed by their ruins, —
this, too, in a night impenetrably dark, interrupted
only by sudden gleams of lightning, which dis
covered imperfectly the havoc suffered in every
quarter. The return of light, which had been so
long and so fervently prayed for, brought no abate
ment of the storm ; and only served to display the
most dreary prospect that the imagination can de
vise : what was, the preceding evening, a well-built
populous town, was now a vast heap of ruins, inter
spersed with the bodies of the dying and the dead.
Those who have escaped this calamity find them
selves only reserved for greater misfortunes: reduced
from affluence to beggary, without any shelter to
protect them from the inclemency of the weather,
and with- all the horrors of a famine staring them
in the face ; for the devastation has been so uni
versal, that they say it will scarce be possible to
avert that dreadful evil. It is hardly credible, but
the same letters declare it to be a fact, that, in
the midst of this shocking scene, numbers of the
negroes were employed in pillaging the houses.
Great allowances are certainly to be made for a
l 2

148 LETTERS TO Jan;
race of men so oppressed and trampled on, in any
vengeance they take upon their oppressors ; but
one would think no human being had a heart so
hardened, either by natural stupidity or by the
longest course of oppression, as not to be melted
or appalled at so awful a spectacle.
Jan. 5. — I intended, you see, to send this letter
by the last post, but I was unluckily prevented from
finishing it in time. I have since received yours of
16th December. You profess yourself unequal to
the task of criticising Rousseau ; what presumption
would it then be in me to undertake it ? I have
lately read a great part of his works. It astonishes
me that I should not formerly have been more
struck with the merit ofthe Emile. " Mon cceur
a beni cent fois pendant cette lecture l'homme ver-
tueux et ferme qui ose ainsi instruire les humains."
I sincerely lament with you that he abandoned the
plan he had formed for its continuation. I am much
surprised that any one should ever have questioned
his speaking his real sentiments, in his Discourse
upon the Arts. Surely never had any piece of
oratory the marks of coming warm from the heart,
if that has not. Some parts of the Lettres ecrites
de la Montagne, and that addressed to the Arch
bishop of Paris, to me appear superior, for forcible
reasoning and a strain of irresistible eloquence, to
any modern production I ever read. Had I the
arrogance to judge of originals, some of which I
know but from translations, I should possibly give
to some passages of Rousseau the preference over
the great masterpieces of antiquity. At least, after
reading Rousseau, I am inclined to confess that,

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 149
after all, my favourite Cicero " n'etait qu'un avo-
cat." Among other of his writings, one I had
never heard of, a Letter addressed to Voltaire, on
the subject of his Poem on the Earthquake at Lis
bon1, has given me great pleasure. Do you recol
lect it ? It is in that he makes the very just dis
tinction, that we should not say, " tout est bien,"
but " le tout est bien." Yours, &c.
Saml. Romilly.
Letter VII.
Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, Feb. 9. 1781.
It was not till last Monday that I received
your letter ofthe 13th of last month, in which you
paint in such strong colours the very alarming oc
currences which have lately happened at Geneva.
It will be needless to trouble you with any reflec
tions on that subject; though you must think they
could hardly fail of presenting themselves to me in
abundance upon reading your letter. Let me par
ticularly beg of you not to fail to inform me of every
event of any importance, which may happen in con
sequence of what I am already acquainted with.
The Dutch have not yet published their counter-
manifesto : we wait with impatience to hear how
they will justify their conduct: they have some
very able defenders here. Having lately heard a
debate in the House of Lords upon the Dutch
War, which lasted seven hours, you must needs
think I am pretty well master of the arguments on
1 The date of this letter is Aug. 18. 1756.
L 3

150 LETTERS TO Feb.
both sides of the question. The substance, or rather
the heads of them, I will state to you as concisely
as I can. The Ministry represented the conduct
of the Dutch, ever since the breaking out of the
war with America and France, to have been, in
the last degree, injurious and faithless to England.
Mention was made of their supplying the enemy
with stores, contrary to the treaty subsisting between
them and us ; of their giving refuge to American
privateers, not only at St. Eustatius, but even in the
Texel, and refusing to surrender them up to our
ambassador; of their denying us the succours they
were by treaty bound to furnish ; and, lastly, of
their having actually signed a treaty with our sub
jects in open rebellion against us, nay, of their
having assented to American Independence almost
as early as France, for the treaty bears date Sep
tember, 1778. On the other hand, the conduct of
Great Britain towards the Dutch was represented
to have been in every respect friendly, moderate,
and even indulgent : we did not persist in our de
mands of having Paul Jones delivered up to us ;
we suffered them for a long time to carry on an
illicit commerce with our enemies ; and, when we
were at last obliged to stop their ships, we scrupu
lously paid them for all their cargoes, and indem
nified them from loss. We did not so much as
demand the stipulated succours, to which we had
an undeniable right, till our coast was threatened
with an invasion ; and even now, when fortune has
thrown into our hands their secret treaty with Ame
rica, we have still left them room to repair their
fault, by only demanding that the pensionary Van

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 151
Berkel, who had signed it, may be punished. So
much for the justice ofthe war.
As to its expediency, they say it is now clear
that the Dutch are secretly our enemies. It is,
then, prudent in us to strip them of their dis
guise, and force them to meet us face to face ;
as open enemies, they cannot do us more preju
dice than they have already done as false friends.
St. Eustatius has been the continual source which
has supplied vigour to the Americans. Had some
violent convulsion in nature sunk that island in
the sea, before the breaking out of the war,
America must long since have submitted to our
arms. The Dutch were, once, powerful as a mari
time state, it is true ; but ships are now con
structed in so different a manner, and lie so much
deeper in the water than they did formerly, that
their harbours are totally incapable of containing
any formidable fleet. They are a people naturally
averse to war, and fond of that peace and security
by which alone commerce, their great idol, can
thrive. This innate disposition Jias been nourished
by the torpor of a century, passed in ease and quiet.
As they are thus indisposed, so are they wholly
unprepared for war ; their possessions are every
where open and exposed to an enemy : St. Eusta-
*tius, the Cape of Good Hope, the Isle of Ceylon,
the Spice Islands, in short, all their distant pos
sessions, are in a state to invite invaders. One
vigorous blow will strike an alarm through all the
States ; will open the eyes of the better part of the
nation, and rouse them to shake off the yoke of that
French faction, which has gained so entire an as-
l 4

152 LETTERS TO Feb.
cendant over them as to make them forgetful of
their faith, and blind to their true interests.
The Opposition, on the other hand, contend :
First, That the war is unjust. The Dutch, they
say, are, by the now subsisting treaty, allowed to
furnish our enemies with stores. They are, as
every body knows, so rapacious of gain, that they
have supplied even their own enemies with stores,
particularly in a very memorable instance, the siege
of Bergen-op-Zoom ; and how can we then expect
they will do for us what they will not do for them
selves? The pretended treaty which has been found
is, in fact, no treaty ; it is only a rough draft ; it
purports to be no more, for its initial words are,
" We agree upon this as the proper plan for a
treaty," &c. Our demand of punishment on Van
Berkel is insolent, ridiculous, and illegal. How is
he punishable? by what law? Suppose an En
glishman, some years ago, had, in his cabinet, drawn
up a treaty with Corsica, or that he had actually
agreed upon terms with some Corsican chief, and
the French had demanded punishment on him ;
should we have inflicted it ? or rather could we ?
Our demand to the States is not unlike that of the
Czar Peter, who, when an ambassador of his was
arrested in London for debt, demanded the heads
ofthe persons concerned in the arrest !
Secondly, As the war is unjust, so is it inexpe
dient and rash. War is at all times an evil ; what
then must it be to a nation already engaged in hosti
lities with three of the greatest powers in the world,
sinking under the enormous weight of its debt,
with all its resources exhausted ; — a war against our

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 153
natural ally, whose interests are inseparable from
ours ? What though they have been long lulled in
peace ; their indefatigable industry will shortly put
them in a state, not merely of defence, but of an
noyance. The severest blows our naval power ever
sustained were from the Hollanders. The names
of Van Tromp and De Ruyter are still dreadful.
Who knows how soon the rashness of our councils
may raise up other commanders as formidable ?
We talk ofthe weakness ofthe Dutch settlements,
but we forget the condition of our own ; that our
oppressions in the East Indies have made for us
there as many enemies as there are natives ; that we
are already engaged in war with the fierce Marat-
toes ; that discord and enmity rage among the ser
vants of the Company, particularly at Bengal,
where all is anarchy. A war with Holland must
be a war with all the powers of Europe ; for, as the
Dutch have acceded to the armed neutrality, there
can be no doubt that all the neutral powers will
make theirs a common cause.
I leave you, my dear Roget, to determine on
which side the arguments preponderate. How
ever weighty the arguments of Opposition, it
must be confessed they come with a bad grace
from men who have so often blamed the timidity
of the Ministry. Our circumstances, you will say,
have greatly changed, and it would be madness
in us to hold the same language now, which, a
few years since, would have been moderate and
reasonable ; but it was only last summer, at a
moment the most alarming we have ever known,
when great part of London lay in ashes, and re-

154 LETTERS TO Feb.
bellion and civil war seemed at our very doors, that
the Duke of Richmond reproached the Ministry in
the severest terms for not proceeding rigorously to
punish a Russian, who was said to have been con
cerned in burning the chapels. The Duke was
then for despising the Russians, and the armed
neutrality. No matter what the consequences.
" Fiat justitia et ruat caelum."
I must how conclude by informing you of the
death of Mrs. Facquier.1 You know too well the
great obligations we haye to her, and were yourself
too well acquainted with her excellent disposition,
not to conceive how much we all should feel her
loss, were it not lightened by the consideration that
her death is a deliverance from a painful existence.
Considering what she has gone through for many
years past, one cannot call it a cessation of life,
but the conclusion of a lingering death ; " non
erepta vita sed donata mors est." She expired,
free from all pain, in a state of composure and tran
quillity which could hardly be expected, after what
she so long had suffered. Though she had never
any apprehension of quitting this life, (for it
had proved to her a state of too severe probation
for her to be attached to it, nor could a life of such
piety and charity leave her any dread of futurity,)
yet having so often experienced such sharp pain
from disease, she always expressed some fear of
what she might suffer at the moment of dissolu
tion ; but her death was like sleep. So true is it
that half the terrors of death are of our own crea
tion. Adieu. Yours most affectionately,
Saml. Romilly.
1 See ante~, p. 9.

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 155

Letter VIII.
Gray's Inn, March 27. 1781.
When I have told you, my dear Roget, that
your little boy and all your friends here are in per
fect health, I have concluded all the most interest
ing intelligence I have to send you, and must have
recourse to public news to fill my letter. I might,
indeed, indulge myself with planning schemes of
future felicity: the probability of our seeing each
other next summer in Switzerland already affords
me the dream of a transient happiness ; but of hap
piness it becomes us to be economists.
Little business of consequence has come on
lately in our Parliament ; the Lords have scarcely
any debates ; the Duke of Richmond, Lord Shel-
burne,* and Lord Camden never attend. In the
Commons, some unsuccessful attempts have been
made to curb that system of corruption which is
the bane of our constitution. One was a Bill
against contractors sitting in Parliament ; the same
Bill which last year passed the Commons, and was
thrown out by the Lords. The debate was short ;
for the majority were sO confident of victory, and
so vociferous for the question, that few deigned to
speak on one side ofthe House, or were permitted
on the other. One argument used against the Bill
was, that it was unjust and cruel to suppose that
members of Parliament would be induced to vote
against their conscience by the hope of being fa
voured with lucrative contracts ; as if men of hor
nour and fortune would prefer their own interests

156 LETTERS TO Mar.
to those of their country. Another objection was,
that the Bill would, in its effects, prove an exclusion
of merchants from Parliament. You observe how
these arguments destroy one another. If these
contractors are so disinterested as to prefer the
public to their own private good, they will sooner
resign the advantage to be made by contracts than
quit the service of their country in Parliament;
consequently, the Act will not operate as an exclu
sion. If, on the contrary, preferring an increase of
their private fortunes to the honour and satisfac
tion of promoting the public good, they keep theii
contracts, and resign their seats, it necessarily fol
lows that they are not men who have the welfare
of their country at heart, not men who can safely
be entrusted with the rights of their fellow*citizens
and the interests of their country. Another Bill,
which has been thrown out by the House of Com
mons, was for disqualifying officers, employed in
the collection of the Excise and Customs, to vote
at elections of members of Parliament. The op
posers of this Bill dared to profane the name of
Liberty by saying that the Bill was destructive of
it, and that it would rob a very large class of men
of their dearest privilege ; though they well know
that this dear privilege is a hateful burden to all
but those who are dishonest enough to make a
profit of it : that the rest, threatened with the loss
of their places if they vote against the court, find
themselves, at every election, reduced to the di
lemma of choosing between a sacrifice of fortune
or of conscience.
The conduct of the English judges in India is

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 157
become a matter of public inquiry by a com
mittee of the House of Commons, in consequence
of petitions which have been presented to the
King and the Parliament from the British in
habitants, and from the Gentoos and Mahomme-
dans in India, complaining of great injustice and
oppression in the administration of justice. But,
before I proceed, it may be proper to remind you
that this English court of justice was established
in the year 1773, and that the Act, under which
it was erected, confines its jurisdiction to British
inhabitants and natives in the service of the Com
pany. Our countrymen complain that they are
refused the .trial by jury in civil causes; that the
judges have, in many particular cases, acted partially
and illegally ; that they have denied Magna Charta
to have force in India, &c. &c. But the wrongs
of the natives are much more insupportable. The
judges, in order to extend their authority, have
given to the Act of Parliament the most literal,
rigid, unfair construction ; for example, all persons
who rent farms ofthe Company are, they say, ser
vants of the Company, and therefore, by the letter
ofthe Act, subject to the English court of justice.
By such means, multitudes of Indians are brought
under the English law ; that is, a complicated
system of law, so voluminous that years of study
are requisite to enable even Englishmen to acquire
a knowledge of it, is at once transplanted into a
country whose inhabitants are strangers even to
the language in which it is written. , The arbitrary
institutions of a commercial republic, in which all
men are equal, are made the laws of a despotic em-

158 LETTERS TO Mar.
pire, where distinctions between every different
class of men are religiously observed, and where
such distinctions are even become necessary to
subordination and government. In a word, a law
is given them which clashes with their own Jaw
and their own religion, and shocks their manners
and prejudices in a thousand instances. But, inde
pendently of the laws themselves, they detest the
practice of our courts, our pleadings and mode of
trial, as founded in absurdity and injustice. Why,
they ask, must we employ an attorney to prosecute
our suits ? How is it to be conceived that another
man, a stranger, whose acquaintance we must seek
for the purpose, will defend our cause as zealously
as we should ourselves ? Money can be the only
inducement for his becoming our friend ; so that
our adversary has but to offer a higher bribe, for
this mercenary friend to sell his friendship again
and to betray our cause. The monstrous expense,
the perpetual delays, and enormous length of your
proceedings ruin us before our cause is heard ;
and, after all, when it comes to a hearing, ignorant
of your language, we remain strangers to what
passes in court, to the rules of your decisions, to
every thing, in short, but the sentence we are to
undergo and the fees we are to pay.
Though it was scarcely possible to reconcile the
Indians to the novelty of our laws and the practice
of our courts, however cautiosuly and gradually it
might have been attempted, yet by prudent conduct
the yoke might have been made to feel less galling
at first ; but our judges seem to have sought to ag
gravate its weight. They were attended to India by

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 159
a swarm of desperate adventurers, debtors^ and bank
rupts, who went to repair their ruined fortunes by
the plunder which was to be made under sanction
of the law. These wretches, upon their arrival
at Calcutta, assumed the character of attorneys,
officers of the court, servants of the judges, &c.
&c. ; and are described to have spread themselves
over the fertile provinces of Bengal, Bahar, and
Orissa, like the locusts over Egypt, carrying with
them ruin and desolation ; breathing a spirit of
discord and litigation wherever they went ; open
ing public shops to supply a redress for every
imagined wrong, or rather to gratify the malevo
lence and resentment of every restless and re
vengeful spirit ; instigating slaves to bring actions
of assault against their masters, and culprits to-
recover on the judges of the country for false im
prisonment, and reviving causes which had long
been terminav id; for, what seems incredible, the-
judges gave thy -law a retrospective force, and pro
perty was disposed of, and crimes adjudged and
punished by positive laws, which were not in being,
in that country, at the time of the transactions.
The confusion that followed from all this is hardly
to be conceived. On the principle that all men
are equal, writs were issued out indiscriminately
against persons of every description, no matter
what their sex, rank, or consideration in the coun
try. Gentoos, who think themselves polluted by
the touch of any but those of their own particular
sect, were personally arrested, thrown into a com
mon dungeon with malefactors of every descrip
tion, and there left with the alternative either of

160, LETTERS TO Mar.
perishing with hunger, or .offending against their
religion by eating of food prepared by profane
hands. The harams, the apartments of the fe
males, which are held sacred in that country, and
which it is profane in any male to approach, were
violently forced open by bailiffs, and the bodies of
the women arrested ; an indignity which they com
plain of as more cruel than death itself. Judges
were seized in the administration of justice, and
torn, with circumstances of contempt, from their tri
bunals in the sight of the prisoners they were try
ing. The administration of justice was at a stand ;
murders were committed with impunity ; and the
country judges refused to punish the murderers,
lest they should draw down on themselves the se
verity of our Supreme Court by some error in their
proceedings, or by interfering with the English ju
risdiction. The petition of the Gentoos concludes
in these words, " If (which God forbid !) it should
so happen that this our petition should not be ac
cepted, those amongst us who have power and
ability, discarding all affections to our families,
will fly to any quarter we can : whilst the remainder
who have no means or ability, giving themselves
up with pious resignation to their evil fate, will sit
down in expectation of their death. After this, let
the soil of the country remain, and the court of
justice! Let the court of justice remain upon
the earth, or the earth cover it ! " Though I have
read a great many of the papers and publications
upon this subject, yet, as I have not seen any thing
written invdefence of the judges, I ought to sus
pend my judgment upon their conduct, but with

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 161
very great allowances for exaggeration and misre
presentation, they still seem very guilty.
I must now take my leave of you.
Your affectionate brother,
Saml. Romilly.

Letter IX.
Gray's Inn, April 4. 1781.
It gave me great pain, my dear Roget, to
find you in your last letter speak in so disconsolate
a manner of life, as if you had lost all relish for any
of its enjoyments. I own I did not expect it ; for,
though I am sure no one has felt your afflictions more
sensibly than I, yet I have often pleased myselfwith
thinking that your life was not destitute of enjoy
ment ; for, knowing that ambition and the tumul
tuous pleasures of the world never had charms for
you, I confess I thought I still saw room for many
happy hours in a life of quiet and obscurity, with
the company of a few friends and our dear Ca
therine for the partner of your exile ; above all, in
the prospect of educating your son. I know that
the purest intellectual pleasures are poisoned by
bodily pain ; but you have flattered us, or you are
free from that evil. You speak of your life as pre
carious ; but who is certain of existence till to
morrow ? and what thinking being would have the
idea of death less present to his mind than you
say it is to yours ? You know, my dear Roget,
how we always exaggerate to ourselves our past
happiness and our present misery : so much, that
VOL. I. M

162 LETTERS TO April,
were we to live over again some ofthe most envied
moments of our past life, we should be surprised
to find that that happiness which, seen through the
delusive medium of time, appeared with so many
charms, was, in reality, possessed of so few; and
yet it is by comparisons with this distant magnified
happiness that we add to the bitterness of all our
present sorrows.
You ask me how I spend my time : in a manner
so uniformly the same, that a journal of one day is
a journal of all. At six o'clock, or sooner, I rise ;
go into the cold bath ; walk to Islington to drink a
chalybeate water (from which I have found great
benefit), return and write or read till ten ; then
dress and go to Mr. Spranger' s, where I study till
three ; dine in Frith Street, and afterwards return
to Mr. Spranger' s, where I remain till nine, or else
stay in Frith Street, and read with my brother and
Jane. This is the history of every day, with little
other variation than that of my frequently attending
the courts ofjustice in the morning, instead of going
to Mr. Spranger's, and of my often passing my after
noons at one of the Houses of Parliament ; for I
have lately been so fortunate as to find the means
of gaining admittance to both Houses whenever I
choose. Indeed I am grown as great a politician
as Appia was, though it is not mine, as it was his,
favourite topic of conversation. " Peace is my
dear delight," and peace and our politics are in
compatible. My father is still as warm an advo
cate as ever for the Ministry1, and I as deeply
affected as ever with the miseries and disgrace
' The administration of Lord North.

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 163
they have brought upon my country. The mo
ment the conversation turns upon public affairs, I
impose it upon myself as a law not to take part ;
and yet I am often weak enough to let the subject
carry me away by degrees, in which case our con
versation never ends without my sincerely re
penting, and reproaching myself with want of firm
ness in not keeping my resolution. Mr. Spranger
is as warm a friend of the opposition as my father
of the court ; too warm a friend for me to concur
with him ; for, though I believe many of the mi
nority to be as disinterested and truly patriotic as
-any men in the kingdom, yet some of the. leaders
ofthe party are such, that one must be prejudiced
to blindness, not to see that their only view is to
raise themselves upon the ruins of the party they
oppose. At Mr. Spranger's I pass for a minis
terialist, and at home for a patriot — • an epithet
not very honourable in the sense in which it is
used. As for political news, we have none, except that
the minority are very angry with Lord North for
the terms upon which he has made the loan of this
year, and for his distribution of it among the sub
scribers. I should not be very intelligible, I fear,
if I were to endeavour to explain what those terms
were ; suffice it to say, that they were so advan
tageous to the subscribers, and, consequently, so
disadvantageous to the public, that the next day
after they were declared, they bore a premium of
10 per cent., and have remained ever since at a
premium of between 10 and 7 per cent. The
distribution is complained of as having been
m 2

164 LETTERS TO May,
made to none but the friends of the ministry, and
a very great part of it to Members of Parliament,
who are thus bribed with the public money to
betray the public, and whose interest it thus be
comes to ratify the most improvident bargain a
minister can make, when they themselves share
the spoil. They are not the guardians of the
people, but the usurers who profit by their pro
digality. Adieu ; believe me to remain, my dear Roget,
your warm friend and affectionate brother,
Saml. Romilly.
Letter X.
Dear Roget, May 22. i78i.
The conduct of Rodney and Vaughan in
confiscating all the property at St. Eustatius, has
lately been brought before the House of Commons
by Burke. As his motion, though it was only for
papers necessary for an inquiry into that trans
action, led to a censure upon the Ministry, if the
orders of confiscation were sent from hence, and
if not, to a censure upon Rodney and Vaughan,
you will not be surprised that it was rejected,
though it was supported by very strong arguments,
at least in my opinion ; but you shall judge for
yourself. It was admitted, that to confiscate all
the property of a place taken in war is contrary to
the law of nations observed by all civilized states,
and particularly as that law is laid down by Vattel,
the last writer of authority upon the subject. But
then, it is said, a distinction is to be made between

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 1 65
a people openly at war with you, and one who,
like the Dutch, have perfidiously violated th en
treaties, and secretly supplied your enemy with
succours. The answer to this is : their perfidy
was the cause of our declaring war, but, war being
once begun, we must conform to the rules of war
fare established in Europe ; and it is a principle
laid down by every writer on the law of nations,
that each state at war must be presumed to have
justice on her side. Besides, it is impossible to
punish the perfidy of a nation by severity in
carrying on war against it ; for the only effect of
such severity would be to draw retaliations from
the enemy, and finally to establish a more cruel
law of nations than what now prevails. But
then, it is said, St. Eustatius is not a settlement ;
it ought not to be compared to Grenada, or any
other conquered island; it is nothing but a depot or
magazine. But how does this alter the case? The
only question is, whether, in a place which has
surrendered at discretion and without resistance,
the private property of individuals is liable to
confiscation. Lord George Germaine ' said, that
the orders sent from home were, that the pro
perty of the inhabitants established in the island
should not be touched. But this is a reason for
going into an inquiry ; for, if it be true, Rodney
is highly criminal in having departed from his
orders, and that to commit an act of the most
wanton injustice. With respect to the Jews, it
was said that the orders that were given for trans
porting them, were given unknown to the Com-
' Secretary of State for the Colonies.
M 3

166 LETTERS TO May,
mander-in-Chief, and that they were counter
manded the moment they came to his knowledge.
An inquiry, then, is still more necessary, in order
to discover who it was that dared to give orders so
disgraceful to the nation. With respect to the pro
perty of English merchants, it is said the trade was
improper, and supplied the enemy with strength :
the cargoes that were consigned to St. Eustatius
might, with much more safety, have been sent
more to the north. To this it is answered, that
the trade was perfectly legal; that it was protected
and encouraged by acts of parliament, made since
the commencement of the American war ; that
more to the northward the cargoes might, it is
true, have been safe from capture, but they would
not have been sold, they would have found no
market. But that this dread of supplying the
enemy is only a mask to cover the most flagrant
injustice is evident, for the Commanders-in-Chief
sold all the effects they seized, — sold them much
cheaper indeed, but exactly in the same manner
as the merchants would have sold them ; so that
to supply the enemy by a fair trade is with them a
crime, but not, to supply them by dint of violence
and plunder. After all, it is said, what injury
has been done ? Whoever think themselves ag
grieved, may have recourse to law. Without
doubt they may ; but it is only because they
have been injured that they must recur to law.
Are we to thank Rodney and Vaughan if our
courts of justice are open, and our judges im
partial ? Was it a merit in Verres that the Si
cilians found a Tully to plead their cause, and

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 167
a tribunal to hear their complaints? When one
considers who they are whom those men advise
to go to law, one must see that it is adding in
sult to injury. It is telling the wretches whom
they have reduced to beggary,, that they may
follow them home if they will, engage in an ex
pensive lawsuit, and try whether the goodness of
their cause alone will enable them to overcome
men crowned with laurels, elevated with popular
favour, and loaded with riches. And what redress
will the law give them ? at most only the restor
ation of their property. But who will compensate
them for a long separation from their families, and
for the injury their commerce must have sus
tained by a tedious attendance on our courts of
justice ? But the strongest ground on which the
motion was opposed was, that it would be unjust
to condemn Rodney and Vaughan unheard and
absent ; and yet this argument comes with an ill
grace from those who are so confident of their in
nocence ; for being innocent, they cannot fear a
condemnation. These confident friends of Rod
ney, to be consistent with themselves, should be
the most earnest for the proposed inquiry, which
will clear his character from the foulest stain which,
whether justly or not, it has certainly contracted.
Let us be just to our officers, but let us not be
unjust to these miserable sufferers who are reduced
to want bread ; let us not be unjust to ourselves,
nor suffer the honour ofthe nation to be blasted by
a flagrant violation of the laws of nations.
Did I ever inform you that, among the variety
of disputing societies which were established here
m 4

168 LETTERS TO May,
in such abundance last winter, there were several
for debating topics of religion ? Having never been
present at any of them, I cannot speak of them
from my own knowledge; but, according to the
representation I have had given me of the company
which usually frequent them, the auditors are
mostly weak, well-meaning people, who are in
clined to Methodism ; the speakers partly fanatics,
who persuade themselves that a jargon of scriptural
words, as unintelligible to themselves as to their
hearers, is inspired eloquence ; some designing
villains, who are anxious to poison theminds ofthe
people, and by means of their religious prejudices
to work their own bad ends ; and a few coxcombs,
with more wit than understanding, and who go
there for the purpose of ridiculing religion, or
rather of displaying their own talents to advantage,
by placing them in contrast with the imbecility of
their opponents. That such meetings, where the
cause of religion is probably no less injured by its
defenders than by its assailants, are at all times
pernicious, can, I think, admit of no dispute ; but
at present they are particularly dangerous, as they
tend to keep alive that rage of persecution against
the Catholics which has of late so unhappily in
fected the minds of the people. Nothing, one
would imagine, could raise up panegyrists of these
societies but what has lately happened, an attempt
to suppress them. The Solicitor-General 1 has
lately brought a bill into Parliament for this pur
pose. The bill is drawn artfully enough ; for, as
these societies are held on Sundays, and people pay
1 Mr. James Mansfield.

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 169
for admittance, he has joined them with a famous
tea-drinking house, .involving them both in the
same fate, and entitling his bill, A Bill to regulate
certain Abuses and Profanations of the Lord's Day.
This bill has met with no opposition in Parliament
but from two or three members ; but among the
common people, I am told, it is exceedingly odious.
It is called a persecution, an inquisition, and many
other names equally reproachful and inapplicable.
Could one, indeed, expect that those turbulent
spirits who have sought to blow up the wildest fa
naticism among the people, would patiently suffer
so powerful an instrument to be wrested out of
their hands ?
Have you ever heard of a book published here
some time since by a Mr. Howard, upon the State
of the Prisons in England, and in several other
countries of Europe ? You may conjecture from
the subject that it is not a book of great literary
merit ; but it has a merit infinitely superior. It is
one of those works which have been rare in all
. ages of the world ; it is written with a view only
to the good of mankind. The author was some
time ago sheriff in the country ; in the execution
of that office a number of instances of abuses prac
tised in the prisons came under his observation.
Shocked with what he saw, he began to inquire
whether the prisons in the adjacent counties were
on a better footing. Finding every where the same
injustice prevail, he resolved, — a private individual,
— to attempt to reform abuses which he found were
as general as they were shocking to humanity.
Accordingly, he made a visit to every prison and

170 LETTERS TO May,
house of correction in England, with invincible
perseverance and courage ; for some of the prisons
were so infected with diseases and putrid air, that
he was obliged to hold a cloth steeped in vinegar
to his nostrils during the whole time he remained
in them, and to change his clothes the moment he
returned. After having devoted so much time to
this painful employment, he set out on a tour
through great part of Holland, Germany, and Swit
zerland, to visit their prisons. What a singular
journey! — not to admire the wonders of art and
nature, not to visit courts and ape their manners ;
but to dive into dungeons, to compare the misery
of men in different climates, to study the arts of
mitigating the torments of mankind ! What a con
trast might be drawn between the painful labour
of this man, and the ostentatious sensibility which
turns aside from scenes of misery, and, with the
mockery of a few barren tears, leaves it to seek
comfort in its own distresses ! The result of all
his inquiries Mr. Howard has laid before the Parlia
ment, and some steps have, I believe, been taken
towards putting our prisons on a better regulation ;
but I am sorry I cannot particularly inform you
what they are.
Adieu, yours most affectionately,
S. R.

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 171
Letter XL
[TO  .]
La Grande Chartreuse, near Grenoble, Sept. 8. 1781. >
This is but the third day, my dear

that I find myself in this monastery, and I seem
already to have inhabited it for years. The sight
ofthe same objects, and ofthe same faces, and the
precise order which reigns here, soon destroy the
novelty of the life of a recluse ; and I can hardly
persuade myself, since I have been in this place,
that I am ever to quit it. It was dusk when we
arrived, and we were so much fatigued with our
journey that we paid little attention to any thing
but the hospitality of our religious hosts, and the
excellent supper they set before us. As for myself,
when I was shown into my chamber, I was so
overwhelmed with drowsiness that I took notice of
nothing in it but a bed, into which I threw myself
with the impatience of a weary traveller. The
next morning, after a slumber of nine hours with
out interruption, — except once, indeed, that I was
waked by the melancholy bell which summons the
fathers to the midnight service, — I found myself
lying on a small wooden bed, in a little cell paved
with tiles, and furnished only with two wooden
chairs, and a desk for prayer, over which hung a
very indifferent print of the passion of our Savour.
My window looked over the spacious court-yard
1 Mr. Romilly made a journey to France and Switzerland in the
summer of this year. See " Narrative of his early Life," p. 60.

172 LETTERS TO Sept.
before the house, which was vast, but solitary;
the grass grew between the stones, and in the midst
stood two fountains, the melancholy splashing of
whose waters alone interrupted the deep silence.
The aspect of the country was well suited to the
building, and presented to the view a dreary moun
tain rising above, one end wholly covered with
woods of gloomy pine. I quitted my little cell to
walk about the house of this solitary community.
Every object struck me with awe and respect. As
I walked through the long cloisters, nothing broke
the profound silence of the convent but the sound
of my steps on the pavement, faintly echoed by the
vaulted roof. The cloister led me by a small
burial ground in the midst of the building, where a
number of tombstones in the form of crosses were
placed in a kind of irregular order, — some high,
some low ; some new, others mouldering away and
broken or fallen down, and with inscriptions scarce
legible. This is the burial-place of the Generals ;
and they are never permitted to be far distant from
it after their elevation to the supremacy of their
order ; for the General must not step beyond the
precincts of the monastery. I began to read the
inscriptions ; and while I was remarking the very
advanced age to which a life abstemious even to
excess had been prolonged by these venerable
fathers, and was observing the slight distinctions
which some of them derived from the addition of
a few years to their uniform lives, or by having
died, some in the present century, and some three
hundred years ago, I heard the distant steps of
some person in the cloister. I quitted the cemetery

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 173
to see who it might be ; a white figure at a con
siderable distance was advancing towards me ; it
was one of the fathers. I walked to meet him,
and should have spoken to him ; but he had ar
rived at the door of his cell, which opened into
the cloister : he entered and shut-to his door.
I reproached myself for having forgotten that
the fathers are not permitted to speak, and for
having exposed him to the temptation of opening
his lips ; for he seemed in that instant to regret
that the laws of his order imposed silence on him.
The falling-to of the heavy door rang through the
building, and left an awful impression on my mind.
In imagination I followed this venerable monk into
his cell. I fancied myself, like him, imprisoned
from the world, and separated from the grave by
nothing but the unvaried round of fasts and
prayers ; and that I should never quit my cell,
except to rehearse the vigils in the chapel, to eat
one weekly meal in silence with my brethren, or
to walk about the lonely mountain, till I was car
ried into my tomb. S. R.
Letter XII.
Ostend, Nov. 10. 1781.
Once more better than my word, I write to
you, my dear Roget, from this place, though I did
not give you reason to expect to hear from me till
I should have arrived at London ; but I deserve
no thanks for this letter, for it is the fruits of the
most irksome leisure which an unfavourable wind
inflicts on me, by confining me to this place. I

174 LETTERS TO Nov.
cannot look back on the manner in which I have
spent the last five months, without owning myself
much indebted to you for having induced me to
take a journey, part of which has afforded me much
pleasure, and all, if I do not flatter myself, much
instruction ; at the same time that I have gained
by it this great advantage, that I now find myself
possessed of a tolerable stock of health and strength,
both of which I was poor in when I landed here in
June last.
Pray inform me in your next letter whether the
last part of Rousseau's works has yet been published,
and whether you hear any thing of the edition of
Berne. I have talked a great deal about that our
favourite author with Mr. Romilly * of Paris, who
was one of the very few persons who remained
connected with him till his death ; though, what
is singular, he did not sacrifice to that connexion
his friendship with Diderot. The manner in which
these two authors used to speak of one another
well exemplifies their different dispositions. Rous
seau, though fully persuaded that Diderot had used
him exceedingly ill, used to tell Mr. Romilly that
he did well to continue his acquaintance with him,
for that there was much to be learned in his con
versation. Diderot, on the contrary, could not
forgive Mr. Romilly for seeing Rousseau, whom he
loaded with the most opprobrious names, though
he never would particularise the injuries he pre
tended to have received from him. The acrimony
of Diderot against Rousseau, instead of abating,
> The Mr. Romilly here mentioned was no relation of the writer.
See p. 64.

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 175
seems to have increased with the death of that
unfortunate man.1 His remains were hardly cold
before Diderot, in his Life of Seneca, treated him
in vague and general terms, as a monster of hypo
crisy and impurity. In one of the visits I made
Diderot, I purposely turned the conversation on
Rousseau. The reason which Diderot gave for not
attacking him till after his death was, that several
private persons were involved in the transactions
in which Rousseau had used him so ill, and that, if
he had mentioned those affairs before, Rousseau,
" qui n'avait point de pudeur," would not have
scrupled, in defending himself, to have blasted the
characters of those other persons. This reason
seems a very strange one ; and the rather so, as
Diderot's accusation, entirely vague and uncertain,
particularises neither things nor persons. How
ever, he is going to publish a second edition of
the Life of Seneca, increased by a whole volume,
in which he is to defend his accusation of Rousseau
in the former edition against the editors of the
Journal de Paris, among whom are Mr. Romilly
and Mr. Corancez, who severely criticised it. I
talked with Diderot a good deal about this work,
of which he said he would send me a copy. I find
that, among other very extravagant means which
he has hit on to defend and exalt the character of
his hero, one is to destroy the veneration with
which the world has hitherto regarded Thraseas ;
though, in truth, the extravagant design of abusing
Thraseas is but a consequence of a former extra
vagance, that of exalting Seneca. When I see
1 Rousseau died in 1778.

176 LETTERS TO Nov.
these two men compared together, I cannot help
thinking of the two architects1 of antiquity: in
Seneca I see the eloquent speaker who talks of the
greatest virtues ; in Thraseas, the godlike stoic,
who shows those virtues in action. The chimeras
of Seneca were realized in Thraseas.
In the little I have seen of the French, I have
found them to be much less gay than they are com
monly said to be. They are merry and serious by
starts ; but they are strangers to cheerfulness, and
still more to serenity of temper. When Mr. De
Luc was at Paris, he often observed to a gentleman
whom I am acquainted with, as he walked out
with him on Sunday evenings, that he never saw
in England that mirth and gaiety which appeared
on the countenances of the French. The observa
tion has often been made before, but by men of
less sense than Mr. De Luc ; and thence one is to
conclude, that the French are a happier nation
than the English, and consequently that a despotic
government is preferable to a free one ! I greatly
doubt the happiness of the French ; but, if they
are happy, they are more to be pitied than if they
were discontented, because, in their situation, it is
not possible they can be happy till their souls are
debased to a level with their condition. Slaves
must be insensible indeed to the misery and igno
miny of their state, when they can hug the chains
that dishonour them, and lick the feet by which
i Competitors for the erection of a public building at Athens ; the
one of whom fascinated the people by his eloquence, whilst the other,
who had more knowledge of his art than of oratory, said only, " Men of
Athens, all that he has spoken will I perform." — Fide Plutarch. Reip.
Ger. Prcec.

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 177
they are trampled on. Such men can never taste
of real happiness ; to them all its genuine sources
are dried up. It is ever the policy of a tyrant to
enervate the minds of his subjects, and to give
them a fondness for false grandeur and empty plea
sures. When he has once wrought this change in
their disposition, he may at an easy price glut them
with all that they are greedy after: they will never
feel the want of pleasures which they no longer
have souls to enjoy. So it was that, in the worst
days of the Roman empire, its tyrants fed a popu
lace, whom they had rendered stupid and sensual,
with offals and gaudy shows. It is not more sur
prising that a people ignorant of liberty are con
tented with servitude, than that a man blind from
his birth laments not the want of the most delight
ful of the senses. I have never seen a troop of
children who appeared more cheerful and contented
than the deaf and dumb scholars of the Abbe de
l'Epee; but ought I from thence to conclude, that
they are as happy, or perhaps happier than we, and
that Providence, in giving us our senses complete,
bestowed on us a superfluous, if not a pernicious
gift? At Versailles I assisted at the mass. The ser
vice was very short, though it was on a Sunday ;
for kings are so highly respected in that country
that even Religion appoints for them less tedious
ceremonies than it imposes on the people. The
moment his Majesty appeared, the drums beat and
shook the temple, as if it had, been intended to
announce the approach of a conqueror. During
the whole time of saying mass, the choristers sang,
VOL. I. N

1?8 LETTERS TO Nov
sometimes single parts, sometimes in chorus. In
the front seats of the galleries were ranged the
ladies of the court, glowing with rouge, and gor
geously apparelled, to enjoy and form a part ofthe
showy spectacle. The King laughed and spied at
the ladies ; every eye was fixed on the personages
of the court, every ear was attentive to the notes
of the singers, while the priest, who in the mean
time went on in the exercise of his office, was un
heeded by all present. Even when the Host was
lifted up, none observed it; and if the people
knelt, it was because they were admonished by
the ringing ofthe bell ; and even in that attitude,
all were endeavouring to get a glimpse of the
King. How can a king of France ever be brought
to regard his subjects as his equals, when, even
before the throne of heaven, he maintains so high
a superiority over all around him ? What an idea
must he not conceive of his own importance, when
he thus sees his God less honoured than himself? S. R.

Letter XIII.
Gray's Inn, Nov. 16. 1781.
At last, my dear Roget, you find I am safe
arrived at my dear home. It was very fortunate
that I took advantage of the first favourable mo
ment which presented itself for crossing the sea,
as the wind has been contrary ever since, and
there are, at present, no less than four mails due.
I have not yet had time to do any thing in the

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 179
commission you gave me ; but I shall now set
about it immediately, and give you an account of
it in my next.
I forget what it was I wrote to you from
Ostend ; I know I mentioned something of
Diderot, but did I tell you how zealously he
preaches his system of materialism ? In the first
visit I paid him, after we h*ad talked a little on
political topics, he turned the conversation to his
favourite philosophy ; he praised the English for
having led the way to true philosophy, but the
adventurous genius of the French, he said, had
pushed them on before their guides. " Vous
autres," these were his words, "vous melez la
theologie avec la philosophie ; c'est gater tout,
c'est meler le mensonge avec la verite ; il faut
sabrer la theologie." He spoke of his acquaint
ance with Hume. " Je vous dirai un trait de lui,
mais il vous sera un peu scandaleux peuf-etre, car
vous Anglais vous croyez un peu en Dieu ; pour
nous autres nous n'y croyons gueres. Hume
dina avec une grande compagnie chez le Baron
D'Holbach. II etait assis a cote du Baron ; on
parla de la religion naturelle : ' Pour les Athees,'
disait Hume, 'je ne crois pas qu'il en existe ; je
n'en ai jamais vu.' ' Vous avez ete un peu mal
heureux,' repondit 1' autre, 'vous voici a table
avec dix-sept pour la premiere fois.'"
He said that Chancellor Bacon was one of the
greatest men our country had ever produced, and
that Bacon says, "Causa finalis est virgo, Deo
sacrata, quae nihil parit ; " that Plato, too, the
author of all the good theology that ever existed
n 2

180 LETTERS TO .Nov.
on the earth, says, that there is a vast curtain
drawn over the heavens, and that men must con
tent themselves with what passes beneath that cur
tain, without ever attempting to raise it ; and in
order to complete my conversion from my unhappy
errors, he read me all through a little work of his
own, — a'Dialogue between himself and a lady of
quality much attached to religion, whom he at
tempts to convince of her folly. '
You know that the Queen of France was brought
to bed at the time that I was at Paris ; but I never
had time to give you any account of the rejoicings
on that occasion. What seemed to me most ex
traordinary was, that they were commanded. The
day the Dauphin was born, an order was posted
up in all the streets, enjoining the citizens to
illuminate their houses for three successive nights,
and to shut up their shops, and commanding the
officers of the police to look to the execution of
this order. Who would have thought that a peo
ple so famous for their fond attachment to their
kings could have needed such an order ! an order
which, even when rendered necessary by the dis
loyalty of a nation, can never answer any purpose,
unless it be to .lull a feeble government into a
childish joy by an outward show of happiness, by
making an oppressed and discontented nation for
a moment act the part of a happy and a grateful
people !
At night I walked about Paris to see the illumin
ations ; the streets were crowded with people, and
i This is published in his works, under the title of Entretien d'un
Philosophe avec la Marechale de  .

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 181
the public edifices were well lighted up ; but in
many of the private houses there appeared only
one glimmering lamp at each window, hung up,
not in token of joy, but of reluctant obedience to
the Sovereign's will ; and some of the citizens were
daring enough not to illuminate their houses at all.
In many of the squares were little orchestras with
bands of music playing to the populace, some of
whom danced about in wild irregular figures. But
it was at the Place de Gr£ve that the greatest
crowd was assembled. The Town-house there
was richly illuminated, a fire-work was played off,
and afterwards the people were invited to dance to
the music of four bands in different orchestras.
The company, which consisted of the very lowest
and dirtiest rabble of Paris, soon began to dance
in a ring ; but they were noisy rather than merry,
and none seemed happy, unless happiness can be
found in a tumultuous oblivion. My opinion of
the Parisians, with respect to gaiety, is so different
from that of all travellers, that I hardly dare
trust to it ; but I must describe things as I see
them, and not borrow from others my opinions and
observations. However, as the idea one forms of
a people commonly depends, in a great measure, on
the disposition of mind one happens to be in one
self, I ought not to conceal from you, that .the,
ragged and miserable appearance of the people,
the sight of the guards drawn up on every side,
the frequent appearance of the horse-guet, who
came upon one every now and then unexpectedly,
and the reflection that the pavement on which I
stood had been so often wet with the blood of the
n 3

182 LETTERS TO Dec
wretches whom the barbarous justice ofthe coun
try dooms to expire in excruciating and length
ened agonies, spread over my mind such a cloud of
melancholy as nothing could dissipate.
Forgive me for not making this long letter still
longer ; but as yet I have hardly found a moment's
leisure since my return. Pray write to me soon,
and often think of your sincere friend and most
affectionate brother, Saml. Romilly.

Letter XIV.
Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, Dec. 4. 1731.
I have just received your letter of the 14th
of last month, wherein you mention a former letter
addressed to me at London, which unfortunately has
not yet come to hand. I fear it was on board that
packet which has been lost, and which sailed the
last before the one in which I came over. As
there is no prospect of my ever recovering it, I
shall be much obliged to you to repeat, in your
next, the most interesting of its contents which
you recollect. The hopes you give us of your re
turning to England have given me the greatest
joy. When we have you here again, we intend it
should be for life. I hope, therefore, you will be
careful to lay in a good stock of health before you
undertake the journey.
And now, to speak of public news, which is of
much too serious a nature to be passed over in
silence. When I arrived home, I found every

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 183
body in great anxiety for the army under Lord
Cornwallis. His situation was very critical; an
army, vastly superior in numbers to his own, sur
rounded him on every side ; and no person seemed
to doubt that, unless Clinton ariived in time to
relieve him before his provisions were consumed,
he would be obliged to surrender up himself and
his army prisoners, and the disgrace at Saratoga
would be renewed in the Chesapeak. It was
thought, however, that Clinton might reach the
Chesapeak before it was too late ; and much was
then expected from the valour of two such British
armies against forces so unnaturally allied together,
and so unaccustomed to act in conjunction as those
of America and France. At any rate, it was sup
posed that the event must be quite decisive of the
war ; and the public was eager and burning with
impatience to hear whether America was to return
to her dependence, or be dissevered from us for
ever. In this uncertainty, the day on which the
Parliament was to meet drew near. The King's
speech was prepared, had been read at the Council,
and was to have been delivered to Parliament the
very next day, when news arrived that Cornwallis
and all his soldiers were prisoners. This report,
which came with such authority as not to admit of
any doubt, filled many persons with the deepest
consternation : they saw blasted all our hopes of
ever attaining what, in the course of so many years,
we had pursued at the cost of so much blood and
treasure. Others, instead of turning their views
back, looked forward to the evils we had escaped,
and thought we had more reason to rejoice at an
n 4

184 LETTERS TO Dec.
event which had delivered us from a war so
destructive to the nation ; an event which, by
happening thus early (for they considered it as in
evitable at some time or other), had spared us
many millions of debt, and the loss of many gallant
armies, which the ministers would certainly have
sacrificed in the pursuit of a favourite, but unat
tainable object. But none (at least none that I
have heard of) saw this .calamity with the terrors
with which it has since been heightened ; for none
imagined that, after another so awful lesson, there
would be any talk of continuing our inauspicious
war in America.
The debates, which were to be had on the fol
lowing day, promised to be very interesting ; and
so much had they roused the attention of men,
that the lobby of the House was full long before
the Speaker arrived ; nor was it without difficulty
that he could make his way into the House. The
moment he had entered, the people crowded after
him ; it was impossible to shut the doors, and the
gallery was in a moment filled with a promiscuous
crowd. I, among the rest, had the good fortune
to get a seat. As you have, without doubt, al
ready seen the King's speech, you have as cer
tainly observed that, after boasting of successes in
the East Indies, which nobody had heard of be
fore, announcing the disaster in Virginia, and de
claring his resolution to prosecute the war with
vigour, he goes on to involve the future conduct
of the war in darkness and uncertainty. Let me
recall his words to you, for they are very material.
" I should not answer the trust committed to me

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 185
as the Sovereign of a free people, &c, if I con
sented to sacrifice, either to my own desire of
peace, or to their temporary ease and relief, those
essential rights and permanent interests, upon the
maintenance and preservation of which the future
strength and security of this country must ever
principally depend ; " and afterwards, " the late
misfortune calls loudly for your firm concurrence
and assistance, to frustrate the designs of our ene
mies, equally prejudicial to the interests of Ame
rica, and to those of Great Britain." In both
Houses, all the speakers, on the side of Opposition,
understood these words to intimate that the war
in America was still to be carried on ; and the ad
dress, which echoed them back to the throne, they
understood as pledging the House to give their
sanction to that measure : but the Ministerial
speakers denied that to be the sense either of the
speech or of the address, and many of them de
clared that, if they had understood it so, they
certainly would have voted against the address ;
not that they were clear that the war in America
ought to be abandoned, but because it was a ques
tion of too great moment to be thus hastily decided.
But let me confine myself to the debate in the
Commons which I was myself witness to. The
gentlemen who moved for an address, echoing, as
usual, every sentence of the speech (men so little
known that I shall not trouble you with their
names), prefaced their motion with harangues of a
very singular kind ; giving the most dismal picture
of the nation, yet saying we ought not to despond ;
boasting that our empire had numberless resources,

186 LETTERS TO Dec.
yet omitting to point out any one of those re
sources ; confessing that we were overcome in
America, yet insisting that we ought still to main
tain the style and deportment of conquerors ; re
minding the House that it became a renowned and
high-spirited nation not to sink under its mis
fortunes, but, like ancient Rome, to take courage
and a more determined resolution from its defeats:
that, though every man must be deeply affected
with the late calamity, it was not for Britons to
indulge an unmanly sorrow ; and that it better
suited the character of the nation to appear before
their King on this occasion as the bold Barons, our
ancestors, are recorded to have done in former
times, upon a like disaster, when for mourning they
put on suits of armour. To these declamations
they added an abundance of angry invectives
against the ambition of the Bourbons, threw out
many vague accusations against the Opposition as
the real authors of all these measures, whose mis
chievous conduct they contrasted with the wise.
schemes and prudent measures of administration,
which the seditious harangues of their opponents
had frustrated.
When the last of these gentlemen had ended,
Fox rose to move as an amendment to the pro
posed address, the omission of all the words which
I have above transcribed, and the insertion of
others which said nothing of continuing the
war, but recommended a change of measures.
This motion he introduced by a very long and
passionate speech, in which he said that he had to
set before the House a picture of the nation,

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 187
melancholy indeed, but much less melancholy than
had been drawn by the gentlemen who preceded
him. He would use to the House the same rea
soning with which Demosthenes addressed the
people of Athens : "If your country had been
reduced to its present miserable state under a wise
and virtuous administration, as these men pretend,
your situation would be desperate indeed ; but if,
as I insist, your affairs have been foolishly, im
prudently, and perhaps treacherously admini
stered, you have still hopes of retrieving them
under other men, and by some other system.''
He said, that for the party of administration to
stand forth the accusers of the minority on a day
of such shame and humiliation to themselves was
insolence not to be endured ; that their accusa
tions were the severest condemnation of them
selves, for what could be thought of those men
whose best digested plans and profoundest schemes
were all disconcerted and scattered into air by the
breath of one seditious orator ! that the authors
of the ruinous measures which had been pursued
sought to shift the responsibility for what they
had been guilty of from their own shoulders, to
those of the men who had from the first seen the
folly of these measures, had foretold their failure,
and had endeavoured in vain to open the eyes of
the nation before it was too late. He then en
tered on the subject of the address : he said he
must call back the attention of the House to the
events of the war ; events which, though the
movers of the address had passed them over in
silence, should and must be often mentioned that

188 LETTERS TO Dec.
night ; events which would long be remembered
with horror in the history of this country, and
the effects of which he hoped would soon be felt
upon its scaffolds. At this, the Solicitor-General
smiled. Fox perceived it, and hastily asked him
if he was not yet contented. " What," continued
he, "are we still to suffer before the Ministry are
called to account? Is not all they have done
sufficient, — not the loss of thirteen provinces, —
the effusion of so much blood, — the waste of so
much public money, — the annihilation of so many
branches of our commerce ? What crimes can be
imagined black enough to provoke the severity of
justice, if deeds so atrocious, if such accumulated
treasons to their country, do not bring their au
thors to the scaffold ? " He then went through the
history ofthe war, pointing out everywhere the
misconduct of Ministers, and concluded with say
ing that, though he would not assert that they
were pensioned by the King of France, he would
be bold to say that France had not, among all the
statesmen whose memory she reveres the most,
one who had done her half such essential services
as the present English Ministry. They railed, in
deed, at the Freach King with empty words, as
the Miso-philippoi, of whom Demosthenes speaks,
railed against the King of Macedon ; but, like
them, they were bent on securing to him the
most substantial benefits. They disdained to pur
sue, like Louis XIV., vain and ostentatious schemes
of superficial greatness — they had industriously
gained for the country they favoured the greatest
and most solid advantages — an extension of her

1781. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 189
commerce, and the annihilation of the only rival
which could check her power. Nor was this great
design more meritorious than the admirable mode
of its execution ; the Ministry having so con
trived it that America should separate from Eng
land, not by treaty, but by the decision of war,
in order that sentiments of resentment and hosti
lity might remain for ever impressed on either
party. Nor was this all ; they had so managed
matters as to render the union between France
and America indissoluble ; they had made the
concluding blow proceed from their joint efforts,
and had taken care, by letting the French be
their deliverers, that a sense of gratitude to that
people should be with them eternal, like the me
mory of their deliverance. He ended with show
ing the folly and cruelty of still continuing the
war in America, and said the Ministers had dared
to suggest to his Majesty the speech of a hard
hearted unfeeling prince, who was not to be moved
by the affliction of his much injured and exhausted
people, but was determined madly to prosecute
the same measures as had already driven them
to the brink of ruin. Burke made another very
violent speech, in which he promised soon to move
for an impeachment against the Ministers: but the
amendment to the address was lost in the Com
mons, by 218 to 129 ; and in the Lords, by 75
to 31. Adieu, yours most affectionately, Saml. Romilly.

190' LETTERS TO Jan.

Letter XV. Gray's Inn, Jan. 11. 1782.
That I have suffered so many posts to pass
without writing to you, my dear Roget, you will
have ascribed, I hope, to its true causes, — a great
deal of business, and no news to send you.
In a letter which I received at Paris you desired
me to procure for you the papers which the Con
gress published at their first meeting, their petition
to the King, and their addresses to the people of
Great Britain and to the Canadians ; but I suppose
you have since discovered that they are all printed
at length in the Annual Register for 1774.
You desire me to send you characters of Lord
Dartmouth, Lord George Germaine l , &c. Their
private characters I am quite unacquainted with ;
and it is not easy to distinguish their characters as
statesmen, for no one minister has appeared to be
the author of any particular measure. All that has
been done, has had the apparent approbation ofthe
whole administration ; and there are persons who
go so far as to assert, that the real authors of all
the proceedings against America are still behind*
the curtain. Of the whole administration, how
ever, taken together, the principal characteristics
are, want of system and irresolution ; and the
latter, indeed, is but a consequence ofthe former.
Having little, confined views, they seem never,
from the first, to have formed any comprehensive
plan ; and this original defect has increased with
i Members of Lord North's administration.

1782.

THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 191

ill success. Perplexed and confounded with the
mazes and dangers into which they have run, like
children they rather turn away from what affrights
them than endeavour to prevent it. They ward
off the present evil that presses on them, but leave
the morrow to provide for itself; they may truly
be said, according to the Latin phrase, in diem vivere.
Their plan of operations (for system they have
none) changes with every new occurrence ; with
every various accident, every various passion takes
its turn to rule them ; regarding only the imme
diate object before them, they magnify its import
ance ; they are now confident of success, now
plunged into despair. The idol they erected yes
terday is cast down to-day, and perhaps will be
enshrined again to-morrow. In prosperity they
are proud, contemptuous, and overbearing ; in ad
versity supple, mean, and abject. At the com
mencement of the disputes with America, they
treated the refractory colonists a§ a despicable gang
of ruffians ; but the moment a league was formed
with France, they prostrated themselves at the feet
of those rebels they had spurned, and offered them
much more than ever had been demanded. This
panic was soon dissipated by a gleam of success ;
the ministers resumed confidence, and one of them
was imprudent enough to hint, even in the House
of Commons, that unconditional submission was
alone to be listened to ;
" Quidlibet impotens
Sperare, fortunaque dulci
Ebrius." i
i Horat. Car. lib. i. 37.

192 . LETTERS TO Jan.
Nay, only last winter, flushed with the successes
of Lord Cornwallis, they were already, in imagin
ation, masters of all the Southern provinces ; and
masters so absolute, that they thought it time to
send out again Lord Dunmore to chastise, not to
govern Virginia.
The petitions and remonstrances I mentioned in
my last go on very languidly; the nation seems
fallen into a deep sleep. There are calamities, I
fear, enough in store to awaken them ; God forbid
that it be then too late ! The first business the
Parliament is to be engaged on, when it meets
again, is an inquiry into Lord Sandwich's conduct.1
The cause, however, is already prejudged ; for Lord
North has declared that this inquiry will prove his
colleague to be honest, able, and vigilant. William
Pitt, the late Lord Chatham's son, of whom I be
lieve I talked with you, has made a great figure
this session in Parliament ; he has spoken only
twice, but both his speeches have gained him un
common approbation. Applause was echoed from
one side of the House to the other ; and Fox, in an
exaggerated strain of panegyric, said he could no
longer lament the loss of Lord Chatham, for he
was again living in his son, with all his virtues and
all his talents. He studies for the bar ; and, to
whatever he applies himself, whether to law or
politics, he is likely soon to take precedence of all
our orators. He possesses those talents which are
said to have been peculiar to his father — warmth
of utterance, command of language, strength and
closeness of reasoning, and, above all, an energy
and irresistible vigour of eloquence.
1 First Lord of the Admiralty.

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 193
As I could not have published an article about
Geneva in The Annual Register before next year,
I sent the account I had written to the printer of
The Morning Chronicle ; and it has been inserted
in two very long articles in that paper of last
Tuesday and of this day. The account is exactly
the same as when you saw it, except as to correc
tions of the style, which, after all, I have not had
time to make other than indifferent, and except a
continuation from the time when that account
broke off to the present moment. I will send you
both papers with your parcel of books.
I must now leave you, for I have a great deal to
say to our dear Catherine.
My dear Sister,
If my ascending the Dent d'Oche had an
swered no other purpose, I should not regret my
excursion, since it serves sometimes to recall me to
your memory, and to that of your dear little boy.
Pray, when he knows his Uncle by no other descrip
tion than that of the man who went up the high
mountain, do not fail to assure him that I am not
very much taller than Roget, lest the gigantic ideas
his little imagination may form of me should be
sadly disappointed when we are happy enough to
meet. I hope he always talks English to you,
though all his soliloquies are French.
I was very sorry to hear that you were somewhat
uneasy about your future plans, whether to return
to London or Geneva: you seem to think that
whichever part of the alternative you embrace, it
will be decisive where you will spend the re-
vol. i. o

194 ¦ LETTERS TO Jail.
mainder of your days. If I thought so too, I should
not hesitate to entreat you to- return without delay
to England. But why not pass one year more at
Geneva or at Lausanne (for as affairs are at Geneva,
I every day rejoice that you are out of it), and
then with Roget's increased stock of health, come
and make us all happy here ? Nay, suppose you
should be obliged to remain two or three years
longer abroad, they will seem as nothing when we
meet. Life, it must be confessed, is short enough,
but at our age two or three years is no very con
siderable portion of it. Should it happen, which
God forbid, that Roget's health should render it
unsafe for him to return to England, I hope we
shall both learn to endure separation with pa
tience. I will not preach to you that the satis
faction of acting properly in every station of life
into which we are thrown, and of bearing with
composure every misfortune, is a pleasure to com
pensate every want, and to remove all the un
easiness of absence. I feel too painfully, by the
concern I experience at being so far from a sister
I so dearly love, that that doctrine is too sublime
for me, and therefore not to be preached by me to
others. But yet, my dear Kitty, when we are
guided only by the emotions of our hearts, we are
very often misled. Great as is the pleasure of
being amidst our friends (and how great it is I
believe no one knows better than myself), I fear
we often magnify it much beyond the truth.
Separation gives to what is absent a thousand
charms which vanish on a nearer approach. Yes,
I really believe that even the charms of my dear

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 195
father's society, and the pleasure of remarking con
tinually, by a close observance, the uncommon ex
cellence of his heart, may be exaggerated by an
imagination always flying back to the paternal
house, and hovering over it with habitual fondness.
Let us, my dear sister, be cheerful as long as
Heaven permits.
You must needs think me a very insipid tra
veller, for as yet I have not given you an account
of any thing that I saw since I left you ; but if
such accounts will afford you any amusement, you
have but to write me word, and we will make
together a great many excursions to Paris ; but
we will not take Roget with us, lest, while we are
gazing at its magnificent buildings, its spacious
squares and extensive gardens, at the costly gran
deur of Versailles, its superb gallery, and its almost
animated pictures and statues, he draw us away,
and exclaim in the words of our favourite Rous
seau, " Pretendues grandeurs ! frivol es dedom-
magemens de la servitude, qui ne vaudront jamais
l'auguste liberte! " I know your penchant for the
fine arts ; but to describe all the beautiful master
pieces of the best masters, which I have seen in
the collections of the Duke of Orleans and the
French King, would be almost an endless, and I
fear, after all, a tedious task. The living artists at
Paris, in every branch except sculpture and archi
tecture, are, I think, much below mediocrity.
These two arts, indeed, are not yet on the de
cline ; architecture, on the contrary, seems better
cultivated now than it has ever been. Have vou
ever heard of Houdon, a famous sculptor at Paris ?
o 2

196 LETTERS TO Jan.
he it was who carved the bust of Rousseau, which
is now so common at Geneva : he is a man of
great merit, I think I may say of great genius. I
was particularly struck with two of his designs for
sepulchral monuments. In one, Virtue with a
serene and cheerful countenance, and Friendship
weeping with dishevelled hair and in an agony of
grief, are laying the dying man in his tomb : on
one side appear Envy and Calumny, hovering aloof,
and not daring to apprqach the grave ; and on the
other, the Dignities, the Pomps, and Follies ofthe
world dissolving into air. The other is a monu
ment for a Princess of Saxe Gotha : she is repre
sented walking in a kind of chapel ; at the end is a
recess, with a curtain half lifted up by the image
of Death, who has seized upon the princess, and
is dragging her with an irresistible arm into his
dark abode : the princess seems resigned to her
fate, and is turning a farewell look upon her sub
jects. In both these monuments the thought is
noble, but they both leave in the mind a sentiment
of despair; and such is the effect of what, at Paris, is
called Philosophy : they boast that it has made
men wiser ; I am sure that it has not made them
happier than they were before. I must confess I
regret those times when Religion gave awful lessons
from the graves of the dead ; when she appeared,
as on the tomb of Richelieu, mitigating the pangs
of death ; when the dead were seen rising from
their sepulchres, as in one of the master-pieces of
Roubillac, and the proud monuments of human
grandeur mouldering away at the sound of the
last trumpet. But I must take my leave of you ;

1782. THE REV-. JOHN ROGET. 197
it is with that regret which I always feel on quit
ting you. S. R.

Letter XVI.
Grays Inn, Jan. 24. 1782.
At last, my dear Roget, I have sent your
books ; Pache set out last Monday.
Has Mr. Berenger heard any thing of De Lolme ?
his bookseller here has had no news from him since
he left Ostend, from which, and I believe some
other circumstances, it is supposed that he is in the
Bastille ; and it is likewise supposed that the crime
he is accused of is being the author of the in
vectives against M. de Vergennes l, which appeared
in the Courrier de Londres. It is true he is not
the author, but no matter for that. It is the policy
of an arbitrary court to make sure of all those
whom they suspect ; if he is guilty he deserves his
fate, if innocent there is no harm done. They will
be convinced of their error in some four or five
years, and then, with true politesse, on lui deman
dera mille excuses, and set him at liberty. I was
very much surprised to hear that such a zealot of
liberty had set out on an errand so humiliating and
so hopeless, as to sue a minister of France for per
mission to sell his papers in that kingdom. If it
be true that he is in the Bastille, I fear iie is there
for a long time ; for to write against a minister is,
in the religion of government, the sin against the
Holy Ghost.
1 Minister of Louis XVI.
o 3

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

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 199
their opinions. I fear these self-erected idols of
modern philosophy, had they been born among
the philosophical magnates, would have been but
outcasts and exiles ; for, if you have read Plato
lately, you will remember that, among his laws,
some were to be enacted for maintaining an uni
formity of language in matters of religion in all
times and places, in all writings and conversations;
others for obliging all men to worship the gods
with the same ceremonies, and to prohibit all pri
vate sacrifices ; others, again, for inflicting the
severest punishments on any who should dare
maintain that the wicked can be happy, or that
the useful can be distinguished from the just. So
totally does the authority of the ancients, on which
the advocates for unbounded toleration build so
much, upon occasion fail them.
You have long since read the account of the
taking of St. Eustatius. What infamy ! The Go
vernor is too prudent, undoubtedly, ever to return
to England ; he must either drag on the load of
his life in France, in the receipt (for he cannot
know the enjoyment)of the wages of his treachery,
or be more actively infamous, and take up arms
against his country. I am wrong, perhaps, to
speak as if his treason were" proved, but can it
possibly be doubted ? How unfortunate we are
in our commanders ; some cowards, some traitors,
others brave, indeed, but the slaves of party, or the
more abject slaves of avarice! The Ministers
have often availed themselves of some circum
stances which seemed for the moment fortunate,
to boast that we had Providence on our side.
o 4

200 LETTERS TO Jan.
What will they say now? Never did the hand of
Providence appear more conspicuously than at
present. We took St. Eustatius like pirates, vio
lating in the persons and property of the prisoners
the law of nations ; but we did not profit by our
guilt. The effects seized were retaken in their
passage home, and the island itself is lost in
the most disgraceful manner. We encouraged
treachery in the rebel Arnold, but all we gained
by it was empty promises ; the same treachery is
retaliated on us, and what we lose by it is the
only pledge we had, by which we might have
purchased back the friendship of the Dutch.1
And, indeed, when one looks upon all the dread
ful events of the wTar, and upon all the calamities
which this administration has brought upon us,.
one is tempted to exclaim, "Nunquam atroci-
oribus cladibus, magisve justis indiciis approba-
tum est, non esse curae Deis securitatem nostram,
esse ultionem!"2 Lord Cornwallis and Arnold are
both arrived at Plymouth; the latter is said to have
brought with him a very great fortune. The Par
liament met last Monday, but they have not yet
entered on any business of importance.
Admire my self-sufficiency ; for I am going to
censure a fault in the language of your last letter.
You say " depuis lors," a phrase which is used
only in the territory of Geneva, and which, as you
are now in the Canton of Berne, you are not en
titled to. The literati of Paris are all agreed to
i St. Eustatius was taken from the Dutch, February 3d, 1781 ; and
was taken by the French, under the command of Marquis Bouille, on
November 26th, 1781.
a Tae. Hist. 1—3.

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 201
say " depuis ce temps." And how came I to be
so learned? By the favour of D'Alembert, who
told me that " depuis lors" was one of the Ge-
nevanisms which blemished the style of Rousseau.
This piece of knowledge is not to be despised, for
it is almost all I learned in two visits I made to
the reserved D'Alembert. Whatever subject I
talked of, he found means to turn the discourse
upon what was to be seen at Paris ; as if I visited
him for the purpose of gaining imperfectly that
intelligence which was to be had completely in the
Curiositis de Paris.
Your most affectionate Saml. Romilly.

Letter XVII.
My dear Kitty, Gray's Inn, March ]. 1782.
When, after having read your first letter,
where you are all joy with the thoughts of soon
living with us again, I came to the second, where
that scheme is quite abandoned, where you talk of
taking a final leave of me, and of teaching your
boy the history of our family and of his country,
as if we were to be only a tale in his memory, and
he to be for ever an alien to his native land, I sin
cerely lamented the mischief I had undesignedly
done ; and reproached myself a thousand times
with coming like a cruel invader and carrying off
the little sum of happiness you had been so long
scraping together : but how is it possible, my dear
sister, you could find any thing in my letter tend-

202 LETTERS TO Mar.
ing to fix you in so cruel a resolution ! My in
tention, when I wrote, was only to persuade you
not to come to a determination at present either
way. Not but what I knew how painful it is to
remain in suspense ; but I strongly suspected, what
your last letter has convinced me of, that your
seeming resolution had left you in a very undecided
and uneasy state, and that your thinking so con
tinually on what was far distant only served to
weary and harass you by anticipating again and
again the fatigues, and by multiplying tenfold the
dangers of the journey. Let me preach to you a
philosophy which I have myself often found suc
cessful ; it is to command one's imagination, and
not to suffer it to carry one astray into the midst of
tragedies which are but possible ; for though it is, I
think, our duty in all cases to be prepared for the
worst, it cannot be necessary that we should afflict
ourselves by entering into all the detail of misery,
and by dwelling on objects which we see but
darkly, and through a medium that always mag
nifies and distorts them. It becomes us to look
forward to futurity, but not to pry into it with too
curious an anxiety. Another consolation which
my little share of misfortunes in life has taught me,
is to trust that every evil will bring with it some
cause or means of comfort. The greatest of our
joys and afflictions are but in imagination. Learn
then, my dear sister, with me to treat those waking
visions, which you so forcibly describe to have
thrown you into alternate ecstasies of joy and starts
of fear, and to have made you pass many uneasy
days and sleepless nights, as the vain represent-

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 203
ation of what never was and never will be. I flatter
myself I am not teaching you any ideal philosophy,
but what I have myself practised with success.
Thank you, my dear Roget, for giving me so
constantly accounts of what passes at Geneva :
my paper is too short for me to waste it in compli
ments ; I shall therefore thank you by a like service,
and tell you the news we have here.
In my last I think I mentioned a motion which
Fox made in the House of Commons, censuring
Lord Sandwich. He has since repeated it to the
fullest House that has been known for several years,
there being 453 Members present. The division
was, for the motion 217, against it 236. Lord
Sandwich is, nevertheless, still' continued in his
office. A motion has since been made by General
Conway, whose name, I suppose, you are by this
time well acquainted with, as he was principally
concerned in the repeal of the Stamp Act. His
motion was for an address to the King, praying
that the impracticable plan of subduing America
hy force might be abandoned, and that proper
means might be taken to effect a reconciliation
with the American Colonies. I omit, as unneces
sary, the arguments by which it was supported :
it will naturally occur to you, that the principal
topics of argument were, the distress of this coun^
try, the impossibility of succeeding in the conquest
of America, the much worse situation we are in
now than at the very commencement ofthe war, &c.
The Ministers opposed the motion with all
their strength : they said that to vote such an
address would be to apprize the enemy how we

204 LETTERS TO Mar.
intended to act, and to teach them how to counter
act our designs ; it would be to encourage the
Americans by showing our despondency, and in
stead of forwarding peace would set it at greater
distance. The expression of the proposed address
was, they said, much too loose and extensive ; it
was impossible to know how to comply with it.
Was it intended to withdraw all the troops from
America ? The motion might be so understood ;
and yet nobody had pretended that this would be.
expedient. The Ministers disclosed to the House, but
in a very unsatisfactory manner, their design for
carrying on the war. They said they meant to
keep the posts ; and when it was asked what they
meant by a war of posts, the Secretary at War
said they meant to keep the posts they had already,
and to take more if they saw occasion. This ex
planation produced a roar of " Hear, hear ! " from
the Opposition. Fox said it was evident, from this
and many similar expressions dropped inadvert
ently, that the plan of the war was changed only
for the moment, and that the faintest glimmering
of success would awaken all the vain projects of
the Ministers ; that they would indulge new
dreams of conquest, that new armies would be
marched through the country, and unconditional
submission be again the only terms to be listened
to. The new Secretary of State for the American
department, Welbore Ellis, spoke in the debate,
little to the purpose, though in a great many words.
One objection he made to the object of the motion
was, that it would be to abandon our friends in

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 205
America. The state of those friends, Colonel
Barre declared, ahd, as he said, from very good
information, to be this : those who were called our
friends in the Northern Provinces hardly troubled
themselves to know whether we were in existence,
and those in the -South remembered us only to
pour execrations on our heads. The Ministers
were asked why, if the war was to be merely
defensive in America, had Sir Guy Carleton been
appointed to the command in chief? They an
swered that, unless the troops were recalled, an
officer must be sent to take the command, as,
otherwise, the chief in command, when Sir Henry
Clinton leaves America, would be a foreigner.
But the argument which the Court party seemed
to rely on most, and which, I presume, was meant
to operate by way of threat (though, if the event
had been foreseen, it would surely never have
been used) was this : the Opposition, they said,
to act in a fair and manly manner, ought not to
have made such a motion as that before the House,
but to have moved at once for a change of minis
ters ; for that was the effect which the motion
must indirectly have if it were carried, since no
ministers could possibly remain in office, if the
Parliament could not trust them with the exe
cutive power, but took upon itself to direct it.
The House was exceedingly full when I left it,
which was about one o'clock in tbe morning ; but
several Members went away before the division.
The motion was lost by a majority of only a single
vote ; the numbers being 193 to 194. The House
did not rise till three in the morning.

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

Letter XVIII.
Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, March 8. 1782.
In my last letter I mentioned General Con
way's motion : as soon as it had passed the House,
a motion was made for putting it into the form of
an address, and carrying it up to the Crown. An
address was accordingly carried up, to which the
King answered, " that the House might be assured .
that, in pursuance to their desire, he would take

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 207
such measures as should appear to him to be most
conducive to the restoration of harmony between
Great Britain and the revolted Colonies." The day
after the motion passed, "there were rejoicings in .
several places; the bells were rung, and a great
many houses were illuminated ; and papers were
cried about the streets, " Good news for .England,
Lord North in the dumps, and peace with Ame
rica." The Ministers affected to take the alarm,
and sent advice to the Lord Mayor, that they had
notice of intended riots ; but every thing was very
peaceable, as, I believe, every body expected.
The joy of this victory over the Ministers was
much damped by their still continuing in office.
Lord North, a few days after, when pressed with
his own declaration, did not scruple to say he
would stay in his place till the House voted that
he should be removed ; which may be fairly inter
preted thus, that as his administration had lasted
in calamity to his country, so it should end in
utter disgrace to himself. Since the success of his
last motion, General Conway moved the House to
come to a resolution, " That whoever should be
hereafter concerned in advising, or by any means
attempting, the further prosecution of offensive
war on the Continent of North America, for the
purpose of reducing the. revolted Colonies to obe
dience by force, were declared and should be con
sidered as enemies to their King and country."
The Ministry said the motion was useless; that
when the House voted the address, that implied a
censure upon those who should dare to disobey it :
but the Ministry, probably feeling their weakness,

208 LETTERS TO Mar.
would not divide the House upon the motion, and
it passed. We have since received news of the
loss of Minorca and of St. Christopher's in the
West Indies. Some very important motion is to
come on to-day in the House of Commons ; it is
said to be for a total change of Ministers : in my
next I will tell you the fate of it.
I forgot to mention before, that the Attorney-
General has brought in a Bill preparatory to a
peace with America. Charles Fox said, a few
days ago, in the House, that he knew peace with
America might be had immediately ; that there
were persons in Europe empowered by the Con
gress to treat for peace ; and that he himself, as
much as he detested the Ministry, would, if they
would give him authority, negotiate with those
men. Lord North answered, that services so of
fered he disdained.
I am much surprised you thought any thing in
my letter worth communicating to M. de Vegobre.
On the subject ofthe Cross Elections he seems to
think that political energy is not essentially ne
cessary in your commonwealth [Geneva], except
in such a crisis as the present ; and that such a
crisis is not likely soon to recur. He may be
assured it never will recur if the citizens are once
unmanned and enervated. Perhaps I am mistaken ;
but it is my opinion that political indifference must
at all times be mortal to a small republic. If the
cross elections do not produce the effect which I
think most natural, that of stifling all zeal for the
people, they will be still more dangerous to the
peace of the community. A demagogue in office

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 209
is infinitely less dangerous than when excluded and
persecuted into importance. In office, the dema
gogue is fettered by the known extent of his power,
his views are restrained and his proposals overruled
by his colleagues ; but when excluded and kept in
a private condition, he stands alone ; his power
being illegal knows no limits, and, as he cannot
take a single step without an infringement of the
constitution, as, to be active at all, he must come
under the animadversion ofthe law, he little heeds
how desperate may be his measures. Suppose him
to be actuated by the ambition of acquiring ho
nours ; which is wisest, to cut off the possibility of
his gratifying that ambition without the subversion
of the state, or to lure his attention from more
dangerous objects by leaving certain places in view,
which, when he attains them, disarm him of half
his power ? When Wilkes was forced into popu
larity by expulsions and exclusions from Parliament,
his power over the populace was little less absolute
fhan that of eastern despots ; they yoked them
selves like slaves, to his coach ; they rescued him
out of the hands of the ministers of justice ; and,
when afterwards he voluntarily surrendered himself
up, they besieged his prison, and shed their blood
in his cause : but the moment he was admitted
into the House of Commons, his power fell to be
that of a single vote in a small minority; for
none of the talents which make a demagogue im
portant with the multitude have much influence
in a senate. What avails it ten members of a
council that each is a Demosthenes in eloquence,
VOL. i. p

210 LETTERS TO March,
in zeal, and in patriotism, if they have to oppose
the silent votes of eleven pedestrian ' senators ?
Adieu. Yours most affectionately, S. R.

Letter XIX.
Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, March 24. 1782.
Though I have received your and my dear
Kitty's letter of the 2d of this month, I must
postpone answering it, till I have given you some
account of the fortunate event which has taken
place here since the date of my last letter.
You may remember I then talked of a motion
that was to be made that day in the House of Com
mons, and from which much was expected. The
motion was for a removal of the whole administra
tion : it was lost by 226 votes against 216. The
Friday following, another motion was made, different
in form, but the same in substance ; that, too, was
lost by 236 against 227- How the Ministers began
already to tremble for their places you may judge
by the topics on which they were defended in the
debate ; the principal of which were, that the
Ministers were not the authors of the American
war, which, it was admitted, was the source of all
our calamities : that that war was the unavoidable
consequence of measures, adopted before any of
the present Ministers came into office, particularly
the Stamp Duty and the Declaratory Act: that to
enforce our right of taxation over the Americans
' Roman senators who voted but did not speak were called Pedarii,
from their expressing no opinion but with their feet.

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 211
was not a project ofthe Ministers, but ofthe whole
nation, expressed by their representative, the
House of Commons : that if the present ministry
were now to be removed, they must be succeeded
by men who entertained the most dangerous and
unconstitutional principles of government, and who
had pledged themselves to the nation to reduce
those principles into practice (for Charles Fox had
protested a few days before, that, if ever he came
into office, he would act upon the same principles
which he had always professed in opposition, and
that he should hold any man who did otherwise in
the most sovereign contempt and abhorrence) :
that we should soon see half the boroughs in the
kingdom stripped of their rights of election, Par
liaments made triennial or even annual, and the
populace assembled to give their advice in matters
of legislation and government : that unanimity was
now more than ever requisite : that it was unanimity
to which we owed all our success in the last war :
that a change of ministers ought to be effected,
not by turning out one party and bringing in
another, which was to aggravate, not to heal our
divisions ; but by a coalition of all parties, who,
uniting cordially in the common cause, might
destroy the very name of opposition.
To all this it was answered, that the question
was not now who were the authors ofthe war, but
whether, after that series of disasters and disgraces
which had overwhelmed us under the present ad
ministration, it was proper to intrust them any
longer with the conduct of our affairs : that the
sanction of Parliament, under which the Ministers
p 2

212 LETTERS TO March,
sought to shield themselves, had been obtained by
deceit and misrepresentation of our having innu
merable friends in America, of all the powers of
Europe being resolved to remain at peace, of the
certainty of our being always able to command a
fleet equal to that of the House of Bourbon : that,
whatever the political principles of a new ministry,
no innovation could be established till after it had
received, in the constitutional form, the assent of
the King and both Houses of Parliament: that
unanimity was desirable, but not an unanimity ob
stinately to pursue impracticable schemes of am
bition, and complete that ruin which was so far
advanced : that the unanimity of the last war was
produced by no coalition, but by discarding an ob
noxious administration and forming a new one
agreeably to the wishes of the people : that a co
alition with the men now in office was impossible,
for what the nation required was, not a change of
men, but of system ; and that the government
should nolonger be founded on corruption, but on
the affections and confidence. of the people.
Upon this motion being lost, notice was given that
another motion to the same effect would be made
upon the Wednesday following. On that day, ac
cordingly, the House met ; but, just as the motion
was about to be made, Lord North rose and in
formed the House that the business they were going
to proceed upon was quite unnecessary, as the King
had come to a resolution to change all his ministers.
He, therefore, moved that the House might be
adjourned to Monday (to-morrow), in order that
the new ministry might be properly arranged. We

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 213
are all very impatient to know who will compose
this new administration : I will send you a list of
them if it be settled before I close this letter, for
it is greatly apprehended that the House will be
obliged to adjourn again to-morrow.
I am not surprised that you so much admire
Burke's speech ; but, though it is somewhat cruel
to tell you so, it is far inferior to some of his later
compositions, particularly to a speech made at
Bristol at the last election, in justification of his
own conduct, which is perhaps the first piece of
oratory in our language. The passages which you
pointed out are those which I the most admire,
particularly that of General Conway's quitting the
House of Commons after the repeal of the Stamp
Act. Certainly, never had any writer a more
luxuriant imagination than Burke ; he is more a
poet than an orator; but do not you think that
he indulges that poetical imagination to a fault ?
When he has once hold of a beautiful image, he
forgets that its only use is to illustrate ; . the orna
ment becomes with him the subject, and he em
ploys many phrases to decorate and enrich the
figure, while the matter of his speech is quite ne
glected. I think I could point out several instances
of this in the speech I sent you ! if I had it before
me. One I recollect in the character of Lord
Chatham's second administration, which he calls a
motley composition, a piece of joining work, a tes-
selated pavement, making several other allusions of
the same kind ; and, in the very first words of his
speech, where an orator ought surely to be very
i Burke's Speech on American Taxation, April 19. 1774.
p 3

214 LETTERS TO March,
temperate in the use of figures, having, in de
scribing the uniformity of the arguments upon the
American question, called it a circle, he pursues
the metaphor, and says, " we have been lashed
round it till our heads are giddy and our stomachs
nauseate." The imagination of Burke properly
restrained, and united to the force and irresistible
reasoning of Fox, would form a perfect orator as to
composition ; for in delivery they are both defective.
The account of the European settlements was writ
ten when Burke was a very young man ; though it
certainly bears no marks of being a juvenile per
formance. However, I should suppose he is much
less to be relied on than Robertson, who every
where cites his authorities. You certainly could
not read, without being much struck with, A De
scription of the Feast qfthe Dead l, extracted from
Lafitau. When I read it, it recalled to my mind
a passage of one of Saurin's sermons, where, upon
occasion of the title of a book, Rome Souterraine,
he carries his hearers into the subterranean world,
the regions of the dead as they lie scattered there
in all the various stages of corruption. Do you
know Lafitau's book ? I should be curious to see
it from Burke's commendation of it.
You ask whether I do not think there may be
circumstances, in which an Englishman should
begin his political career by a solemn engagement
never to accept of any place. I think there hardly
can be any circumstances in which such an en
gagement would not, in a man of great abilities,
be culpable. In one of an inferior capacity it is
' Burke's Account ofthe European Settlements in America, vol.i. p. 225.

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 215
indifferent whether he make such a declaration or
not ; for, though his integrity admit not of the re
motest suspicion, his opinions will have very little
weight. We have an instance of this in Sawbridge,
who has done exactly what you mention, solemnly
professed that he will never come into office ; but
who seldom speaks in the House, and never com
mands attention. When a man is endowed with
very distinguished talents, there can be no question
that he owes the utmost exertion of them to his
country; and you certainly know too much of our
politics to think that he can render his country the
hundredth part of that service in opposition that
he can in administration. In politics, above all
things, I think it the highest imprudence to bind
one's self down to any determinate rule of action,
except that supreme rule of conforming one's self in
all things to the dictates of virtue and to the public
good. Imagine a Chatham having, in the days of
his country's prosperity, bound himself by such a
vow as you allude to. Suppose, after the lapse of
some years, his country brought to the verge of
ruin ; the ministers driven from the helm by pub
lic indignation ; and every honest man deterred,
by the dangers to be encountered, from venturing
to take their place. What is he to do, who by the
suicide of his incomparable talents has made him
self useless to his country ? A second Jephthah,
he would have to choose between perjury and par
ricide. I very much doubt such an engagement
having the good effects you seem to expect from it.
To men of honest minds, who cannot easily bring
themselves to think that others have no nobler
p 4

216 LETTERS TO April,
motives for their public actions than their private
interest, it would be superfluous ; and the envious
and suspicious would not be debarred every means
of misconstruction, even by such an engagement.
It would still remain for them to doubt its sincerity,
however solemn it was ; or to allege, as you have
heard it alleged at Geneva, that, the ambition of
riches and titles removed, there still remained the
more captivating ambition of fame and popularity.
26th March. — Yesterday morning nothing was
known of the new ministry. The Parliament,
however, met, and it is said that an announcement
was there made of all the members of the new
administration ; but no business was done, for I
was there at four o'clock, and both Houses were
adjourned.1 I am, dear Roget, &c. &c.
Saml. Romilly.

Letter XX.
Gray's Inn, April 12. 1782.
The news of the change of ministry will, I
hope, my dear Roget, have revived your spirits,
and disposed you not to think any longer that we
can expect a peace but from the generosity of our
enemies. Not that I am yet very confident in my
i On the 25th of .March, 1782, Lord North's administration was
replaced by that of Lord Rockingham, in which Lord Shelburne and
Charles Fox were the secretaries. On the 1st of July Lord Rocking
ham died, and a few days after Fox resigned his office. Lord Shel
burne then became prime minister, Lord Grantham and T. Townshend
secretaries, and William Pitt chancellor of the exchequer. This
ministry was succeeded early in 1783 by the coalition ministry, in which
Lord North and Charles Fox were the two secretaries.

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 217
expectations ; one may almost doubt whether things
have not gone too far to be retrieved, even by such
superior talents as are found united in th'e new
administration. Lord North has had two places, which he held
only during pleasure, settled on him for life ; so
that you may judge he is not very much chagrined
at being displaced. He attends regularly in the
House of Commons as a private member of Parlia
ment. In private company the other day he said,
that the Opposition, who had always complained of
his publishing lying Gazettes, were no sooner in
office than they set off with a Gazette more full of
lies than any of his had been, for it contained a
string of paragraphs, each beginning, " His Ma
jesty has been pleased to appoint," &c, when it is
certain that the King was not pleased at any one
of those appointments. It would amuse you to
see how most of the pensioned newspapers have
changed their style; they now pay assiduous court,
with compliments and panegyrics, to the men
whom, a few weeks ago, they constantly persecuted
with libels and lampoons. We hear of nothing but
the public savings they are to make, of the peace
we are to have with America, and of the peace
with Holland.
It is generally imagined that the new ministry
will meet with no opposition of any kind in Par
liament. Out of it, indeed, there is an impotent
attempt to oppose them. Lord George Gordon is
endeavouring again to poison the minds of the
public by dispersing handbills, in which he has not
unsuccessfully imitated the style of the Puritans of

218 LETTERS TO April,
the last century. He inveighs against the new
ministers ; says that they are no better than their
predecessors ; that they are despised by the pub
lic ; that Fox is a Papist ; that the present dis
turbances in Ireland are to be imputed to the
toleration of Catholics; and laments that no person
moved to amend the resolution proposed to the
House, "that the Ministers had lost the confidence
of the people," by adding, " and the Opposition
have not found it."
Are you not very curious to know what will be
the first measures of the new administration ? Is
it not too much to expect they should perform
literally all they promised when in opposition?
Will Fox, agreeably to his promise, impeach Lord
Sandwich, even though he may now find affairs of
more pressing importance on his hands ; or is not
this another instance of the imprudence of not
leaving one's future political conduct free ? The
Ministers seem likely, at the very commencement
of their administration, to have great difficulties to
encounter in the affairs of Ireland. You know the
Irish have long talked of throwing off the supre
macy of Great Britain. A motion for that purpose
has been made this Session in the Irish Parliament,
but lost by a very great majority, since which the
different associations in Ireland have come to re
solutions to assert their independence. This has
been followed by tumults at Dublin ; Lord Car
lisle, the Lord Lieutenant, has not dared to stir
out of his castle, and Eden, his Secretary, was
near receiving personal violence from the populace
as he was setting off for England. The object of

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 219
his journey was to bring Lord Carlisle's resignation
of his vice-royalty, and to represent to the Mi
nisters the state of affairs in Ireland ; but, on his
arrival here, he found the ministry changed, Lord
Carlisle deprived of the honorary office of Lord
Lieutenant of the East Riding of the county of
York (which was now restored to the Marquis of
Carmarthen, from whom it had been taken two
years ago, because that nobleman presumed to vote
with the Opposition), and deprived of the vice-
royalty of Ireland, which was now conferred on
the Duke of Portland. Piqued at this affront, as
he considered it, to Lord Carlisle, he refused to
give the Secretaries of State any information, but
told them he should, on the first day of the Com
mons meeting (for they were then adjourned),
make a motion relative to the affairs of Ireland.
Accordingly, last Monday, he moved to repeal a
clause in an Act of George I., which declares the
supremacy of the British over the Irish legislature.
The Ministers, particularly Fox, complained loudly
of the very uncandid manner in which Eden had
behaved. They said that, for themselves, having
no information of the state of affairs in Ireland, or
of that people's demands, they could not judge
how far the measure proposed was proper, but that
it seemed, like all the measures ofthe late ministers,
designed to palliate, not eradicate the evil ; that
the present ministers intended to make such a
settlement of the affairs of Ireland as should be
agreeable to both countries, and remove all fears
and jealousies for the future. Eden was desired
by a number of members to withdraw' his motion ;

220 IETTERS TO May,
for a long time he refused ; General Conway talked
of moving a vote of censure on him ; at last he
complied with the wishes of the House. Fox,
in the course of his speech, said that, if the motion
were persisted in, he should be obliged to move for
the order of the day, though he should be sorry to
do it, for then the House must adjourn imme
diately ; and he wished that, on the very first day
of their meeting under the new administration,
something might be done towards that reformation
which they had promised. Accordingly, after this
business was over, a motion was made for leave to
bring in a Bill to exclude all persons concerned in
collecting the customs or excise from giving their
votes at elections. In another part of his speech
Fox said, that since he and his colleagues had
come into office, they had found many more in
stances of the shameful neglect and mismanagement
of the late ministers even than they had suspected ;
such instances of mismanagement as would render
public inquiries on the subject necessary. So much
for politics. Yours affectionately,
S. R.
Letter XXI.
Gray's Inn, May 20. 1782.
I always write to you, my dear Roget, on
the supposition that you take as much interest as
ever in English politics ; and certainly, if you were
at all changed in that respect, these letters must be
very dry and unentertaining ; but I cannot suppose

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 221
you are ; and the present situation of our affairs
should rather increase than abate your curiosity.
I mentioned to you in my last letter the object
and the fate of Mr. William Pitt's motion : ; it
remains to give you some account of his speech,
and of the arguments used in opposition to the
measure. The account you have had in the
Courrier de I'Europe has, I suppose, been very
indifferent ; as the Parliamentary intelligence of
that paper is borrowed from the English news
papers, and in them there have been but very im
perfect accounts of that debate, for the fame of
Mr. Pitt's eloquence had drawn such a crowd down
to the House that many of the news-writers could
not get in. I was more fortunate.
Mr. Pitt began by establishing as propositions
which could not be controverted, first, that every
free state, to maintain its liberty and the vigour of
its constitution, must be frequently brought back to
its original principles.; and next, that the English
constitution has departed, widely from the prin
ciples on which it was originally founded, inas
much as the House of Commons, which ought to
be the representative of the people of Great Bri
tain, was become a partial representation, having
no connexion with the people at large, and from
which the sense of the nation could not be col
lected. He then went on to this effect : — " That
this is so cannot be disputed ; we all know it by
reason, we all know it much more feelingly by
fatal experience ; we have all been the melancholy
witnesses of a war carried on obstinately and rufn-
1 In favour of parliamentary reform.

LETTERS TO May,
ously against the sense of the nation, but with the
approbation and support of Parliament. We have
seen ministers, obnoxious and hateful to the na
tion, retained in their places by Parliament, in the
nation's despite ; and plans of economy, brought
forward in consequence of the people's demands,
and supported by their earnest petitions, rejected
with scorn by Parliament. We all know that
many of the constituents who send members to
this House are not men zealous for the honour
and happiness of their country, but venal electors,
who carry their votes -*- the noblest privilege of
Englishmen — to market, like some vile and con
temptible commodity ; not populous and commer
cial towns, but miserable boroughs, the drains of
all that ill-got wealth which from the East pours
in upon us like a deluge. After having seen all
this, all these fatal symptoms of the approaching
ruin of a state, can it be doubted that the original
principles of this constitution are lost ? Nay, it is
past all doubt; our shame and our misfortunes
cannot be dissembled. This House is not the re
presentative of the people of Great Britain ; it is
the representative of nominal boroughs, of ruined
and exterminated towns, of noble families, of
wealthy individuals, of foreign potentates ; and this
is surely the most to be dreaded of all the misfor
tunes that can befall a nation, for there can be no
stronger symptom of the approaching dissolution of
a state than that foreigners have gained an interest
and an ascendant in the national council. Our
laws have, with a jealous care, provided that no
foreigner shall give a single vote for a represent-

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 223
ative in Parliament ; and yet we now see foreign
princes, not giving votes, but purchasing seats in
this House, and sending thier agents to sit with us
as representatives of the nation. No man can
doubt what I allude to. We have sitting among
us the members of the Rajah of Tanjore, and
the Nabob of Arcot, the representatives of petty
Eastern despots ; and this is a thing notorious,
publicly talked of, and heard with indifference ;
our shame stalks abroad in the open face of day,
it is become too common even to excite surprise.
We treat it as a matter of small importance that
some of the electors of Great Britain have added
treason to their corruption, and have traitorously
sold their votes to foreign powers ; that some of
the members of our senate are at the command of
a distant tyrant ; that our senators are no longer
the representatives of British virtue, but of the
vices and pollutions of the East." He then
strongly recommended a reform of the represent
ation, as the only effectual means to restrain the
influence of the Crown, which had lately mani
fested itself with such dreadful symptoms, and
which had brought the nation to the verge of
ruin. The speakers against the motion insisted on
the danger of innovation in a constitution, which
had ever been the boast of this country, and the
admiration and envy of all others. They urged
that, in mutters of government, visionary projects
could not be put to trial innocently ; for a failure
of success might involve a whole nation in anarchy
and confusion : that to vote for the motion was, in

224 LETTERS TO May,
effect, to open a wide field for innovation of every
kind ; it was no less than, by destroying the old
constitution, to dissolve all the bands of govern
ment, to reduce men to the primeval state of
nature, and to prompt every individual to propose
such a form of government as the wildness of a
luxuriant imagination, or the frenzy of ignorant
enthusiasm, might suggest: that though the motion
did not directly propose a general representation of
the people, yet it must necessarily hold out that
idea to the public ; it would raise among them
mighty expectations, which must end in disap
pointment and apparent deceit, because a general
representation is a thing absolutely impracticable :
that nothing could be more dangerous than to
infuse into the people's minds vast expectations of
franchises and privileges, which, by frequent and
habitual reflection, they would come to consider as
their undoubted rights, and as such would think
themselves justified to assert and contend for:
that this inconvenience would arise from the
mode in which the measure was proposed, — the
motion did not offer any specific plan, which might
be canvassed and duly considered, and passed or
rejected according to its merits or defects ; but
generally it pledged the House to do something
upon the subject without ascertaining what, thus
leaving it to the people to imagine, as they should
please, what it was the House was bound to do,
and then to accuse it of deceit if the new-modelled
representation did not come up to the wild ex
pectations of every hardy reformer : that no time
could be more improper for such a motion than the

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 225
present, at a moment the most perilous this country
had ever known; when we were surrounded by
enemies, when the greatest exertions were neces
sary, and when as (Mr. Fox had lately declared)
ten times the abilities of the Ministers would not
be more than was requisite for the salvation of the
country. At such a time, instead of fixing all our
attention on our own defence, and on the annoy
ance of the enemy, the bands of government are
to be dissolved, a new constitution is to be formed,
visionary schemes of perfection are to be debated.
Will the measure proposed help, in any degree, to
extricate us from our difficulties ? Will it strengthen
the hands of the Ministers ? Will it weaken our
enemies ? Will it give us allies ? Will it supply
our navy with one ship, or our army with a single
man? Tf not, let us save the country from the
dangers which threaten it on every side, and then
aim at its political perfection. But it is said that
a more equal representation is the only effectual
remedy that can be' found against the influence of
the Crown, and that it is to that influence over
Parliament that we owe all our present calamities.
If this be so, why did that influence never appear
with such dreadful effects before ? Is the repre
sentation different? Is it more unequal than it
was ? Nay, it never has been altered from the
time of Charles II. It was what it is now, during
all the illustrious reign of King William, at the
time of our immortal victories under Queen Anne,
during our unrivalled greatness in the last war.
Where has this baneful influence lurked during all
this long period ? Either an unequal represent-
VOL. I. Q,

226 LETTERS TO May,
ation is not the cause of influence in the Crown,
or that influence cannot be very fatal to the
strength, the happiness, or the glory of a nation,
which, under its shadow, can flourish at home, gain
victories abroad, and rise to be an object of univer
sal terror and envy. — As I suppose the answers to
all these arguments will present themselves directly
to your mind, I shall not dwell any longer on the
subject than to say that Charles Fox supported the
motion with all his force.
I turn abruptly from one subject to another ; but
you do not, I hope, expect method in my letters.
The more I reflect on the reasoning of the
atheists of France, the more I wonder at their
absurdity. I cannot forgive them that, not con
tent with starting doubts, they are for utterly de
stroying every thing that falls not under the notice
of the senses, which they preposterously regard as
unerring nay, as the only guides to truth. Wholly
absorbed themselves in matter, they will allow no
thing else to have existence. Do you not think
that the absurdity of their reasonings on this sub
ject might be put in a very strong light by the
fable of some imaginary island, not unlike those
one meets with in the Travels of Gulliver ? An
island, suppose, inhabited by none but blind men,
who should have a traditionary religion which
taught them to believe, that, if they observed all
their natural duties to God, themselves, and their
fellow-creatures, they should be rewarded, at some
future time, with the gift of a fifth sense ; a sense
which would open to them enjoyments which, in
their present imperfect state, they had not capa-

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 227
cities to conceive; a sense by which they would,
as it were, feel things at a prodigious distance,
which would enable the soul to expatiate, as it
were, apart from the body, to soar into vast regions
of space above their heads, and to contemplate
thousands of celestial luminaries which were placed
there ; in a word, which would make them in
finitely happier than they then were, though it
was impossible to give them any clear notion of
that happiness. With this tradition, and this pro
spect before them of unknown joys, they may be
supposed to have long lived happy and virtuous,
till there arose among them a sect of philosophers,
who captiously scrutinized these religious doctrines,
and ridiculed the believers of them, who demanded
proof that these pretended future blessings were
not imaginary. Prove, said they, that the soul,
which is clearly inseparable from the body, and
reaches no farther than the extension of the body*
can otherwise than by the hearing know what is
passing at a distance from it. How shake off this
material frame, and wander into superior regions ?
If not, how feel at a distance ? Are men to be
equipped with organs of feeling that shall reach
miles ? Must not they obstruct one another ? &c.
&c: One might thus, to prove the impossibility of
there being a fifth sense* employ similar arguments
to those which our dogmatizing philosophers use
to prove the impossibility of the soul's existing
apart from the body, or rather to prove the non
existence of spirit, because it falls not under the
notice of the senses. But you laugh, perhaps, at
this ridiculous conceit of mine.
Q 2

.228 LETTERS TO June,

Letter XXII.
Gray's Inn, June 11. 1782.
Your last letter, my dear Roget, put me a
little out of humour with you, not because it fol
lowed so quickly upon its predecessor, but because
it began with an apology for such diligence, as if I
did not always, when I had read one of your letters,
begin to be impatient for another, and count the
days until it should arrive.
You have heard, before this time, all the parti
culars of Rodney's victory over De Grasse, and
you perceive undoubtedly the very great advan
tages resulting from it ; that, besides depriving the
enemy of eight line-of-battle ships, it has frustrated
all their designs upon Jamaica, and will probably
enable us to recover many of our islands. The
thanks of both Houses of Parliament have been
voted to Rodney ; they have likewise been voted to
the other admirals and captains who were in the en
gagement, and to every common seaman on board
the fleet. A monument, too, is to be erected in
Westminster Abbey to Lord Robert Manners, and
two other officers who were killed in the action.
Rodney has, besides, been made an English Peer,
and Admiral Hood, who commanded under him,
a Peer of Ireland. Rodney, however, was recalled,
and Admiral Piggot sent to supersede him before
the news ofthe late victory arrived here ; and the
Ministers have not since sent to countermand Rod
ney's recall. In all this they have, in my opinion,
done exceedingly right; they did well to recall

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 229
him; and to have afterwards countermanded his
recall must have made them appear ridiculous and
contemptible, as if they were wholly uncertain and
undecided in their measures. However, this step
of recalling Rodney has displeased many people,
and raised something like an opposition to the Mi
nistry. You have seen an account of the debates
upon this subject, I suppose, in the newspapers. A
motion of censure was offered to the House, but.
not made, and the speakers against the Ministry
were very few. Governor Johnstone was the most
violent. You recollect him, I suppose ; he went
out as one of the Commissioners to America. In
the character of a warm friend of Rodney, he has
delivered two Philippics against the Ministry, in
which he styles the recall of Rodney a disgrace,
and the moving of thanks to him by Fox an insult;
and, because Fox and Burke had said that, though
they thought Rodney deserved great thanks and
rewards from his grateful country, yet they could
not change their opinion of what had happened at
St. Eustatius from anything he had done since ; that
they thought, however, that the nation ought en
tirely to forget the transaction at St. Eustatius, and
drop all inquiries into it ; all the errors of Rodney
were hidden under the trophies he had won from
France. But this, Governor Johnstone said, he
would never agree to ; he defied the Ministers to
prosecute the inquiry which was afoot ; he would
agree to no compromise ; his gallant friend would
never consent to be dressed up with honours and
titles, while the world was made to believe that he
was a plunderer and a corsair. Don't you think it
d 3

230 LETTERS TO June,
would have been a more friendly part to have left
it to Rodney to determine about this matter for
himself; especially as the Admiral seems to be so
little anxious to have the inquiry prosecuted, that,
this very session, he voted in person against its
being gone into by the House? Lord North made
a kind of speech which is very usual with him ;
uncertain, undecided ; wishing, but not daring to
join in opposition; saying that he should vote
against the motion, but exhausting his invention
to find arguments in its support ; and saying he
was sure such a motion would have been made
against him, had such a measure as the recall of
Rodney been adopted in his administration. Fox
answered with a degree of warmth and indignation
which a cooler politician than myself wduld blame ;
he bade Lord North speak his sentiments boldly,
and not, with an affectation of candour and de
licacy, vote against a motion which he sought
obliquely to recommend to the House. Fox
seemed to despise the man, and to scorn his assist
ance, and indeed,
" Non tali auxilio, nee defensoribus istis
Tempus eget." i
But if it is impolitic to provoke enemies by
such warm language, it is surely much more so to
irritate them by the severity of sarcasm. When
Governor Johnstone complained that Fox was an
improper person to move the thanks of the House
to Rodney, Fox said that he was actuated only by
zeal for the public, and promised to move the
thanks ofthe House even to Governor Johnstone,
i Virgil. JEn. ii. 521, 522.

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 231
if ever he should render any service to his country.
And again, when Johnstone, giving an account of
his being himself employed by the late ministry,
said that he was applied to to command an ex
pedition to South America to foment a rebellion
that was said to have broken out there, but that
at first he refused it, as not thinking himself equal
to such an expedition, Fox observed that he was
much too modest when he supposed himself not
qualified to excite seditions and rebellions in the
dominions of any prince upon the earth. Are not
these the " facetiag asperae, quas acrem sui memo-
riam relinquunt ? " 1
By Rodney's being created a Peer, his seat in
Parliament is become vacant. Hood has been
proposed to succeed him; but the Westminster
committee have named another candidate. This
opposition to Hood is said to be ungenerous and
ungrateful; but why, is more than I can tell, unless
a seat in Parliament is to be considered merely as
a reward, a titular dignity ; or unless it be proved
that the same qualities are requisite to make a
good senator as to constitute a brave admiral.
What man, who was engaged in a lawsuit, would,
out of gratitude to Hood, take him for his ad
vocate ? and yet that would be as reasonable as
making him a member of Parliament, only because
he fights well ; besides that it is impossible he
should do his duty as a member of Parliament
without giving up that station in which he is so
much better calculated to serve his country.
No material change has yet been made in our
• ' Tae. Ann. xv. 68.
Q 4

232 LETTERS TO July,
constitution. Sawbridge has made his motion for
shortening the duration of Parliament, but it was
lost by a great majority. If the Ministry are sin
cere in their desire to bring about the great
changes that have been talked of, they must dis
solve the Parliament ; and a dissolution is what I
fully expect, although it does not seem to be
generally thought of. So much for politics, with
which I fear I have very much tired you.
What I mentioned that I had written about
Geneva has been printed : I will send it to you
by the first opportunity, though I should be sorry
it were seen at Geneva, for this among other rea
sons, that it might in some measure (what above
all things I wish to avoid) influence the conduct
of the citizens ; for the opinions of the obscurest
individual, when they appear in public, are often
mistaken by foreigners for the opinions of a nation.
Pray continue to be very particular about the
affairs of Geneva, whose patriots I regard more as
my countrymen than all the literati in the world.
But I must answer my dear sister, so adieu with
more than fraternal affection.
S. R.
Letter XXIII.
Gray's Inn, July 16. 1782.
Your letter of the 29th of June left me,
my dear Roget, in very anxious suspense about
the fate of Geneva. The news I have since heard
of the city's opening its gates has relieved my
mind from many of the horrors which I began to

1782.

THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 233

paint to myself; but I still wait with impatience
for the circumstantial account of this event, which
I hope you have sent me, before I determine with
myself whether to rejoice even at the restoration
of peace, and the sparing of many precious lives.
The news I have to send you from hence is not
of a nature to afford you any consolation for the
misfortunes of Geneva. The fair prospect which
the change of the ministry opened to us is at pre
sent very much overcast. No doubt, you have
heard of the death of the Marquis of Rocking
ham, and of the unhappy division among our Mi
nisters which followed that event. Fox, Burke,
Lord John Cavendish, and Lee the Solicitor-Ge
neral, have all resigned ; and Keppel, it is expected,
will very shortly follow their example. On the
first day of the Parliament's meeting after this
political schism, the expectation that Fox would
explain the motives of the step he had taken drew
an uncommon crowd to the House of Commons.
I was fortunate enough to be carried along with
those who forced their way into the House, so that
you may depend on the account I send you.
The business began by Mr. Coke, a very inde
pendent county member, moving a vote of censure
against tbe Ministry for having granted a pension
of 3200/. a-year to Colonel Barre, which is to take
place whenever he shall be out of office; a pension
which has been hurried through the House with
unusual expedition, that it might be beforehand
with the Bill for the Reform of the Civil List Ex
penditure, because that Bill provides that no pen
sion shall be granted for more than 300/. a-year,

234 LETTERS TO July,
and that all the pensions in any one year shall not
amount to more than 600/. per annum. This very
culpable measure (for as such I must consider it)
was but weakly defended by an exaggerated re
presentation of the great services which Colonel
Barre has rendered his country, and by an enu
meration of the honourable and lucrative employ
ments of which the persecution of the late ministry
deprived him ; and it was very soon quite forgotten
in the more important discussion which the debate
produced. For, when a member of the late ad
ministration drew a comparison between them and
their successors, each being, as he pretended, ahke
eager to enrich their friends, and alike disunited in
opinion, Fox rose and denied that it was true that
he and his friends, when in opposition, had ever
blamed any of the late ministers for differing in
opinion from their colleagues, but said that they had
blamed those who, though divided in opinion and
disapproving the political system they saw adopted,
were still mean enough to continue in place, and,
through the criminal dread of losing the emolu
ments of office, lent their name and authority to
measures which they knew threatened inevitable
destruction to their country ; that, for himself, he
disdained such conduct, apd no sooner had he seen
the political system of the last ministry likely to
be revived by the present, than he had resigned.
This called up General Conway to declare that he
saw no symptoms of any renewal by the present
administration of the ancient system ; he said that
he understood the principles upon which the pre
sent administration had come into place to be

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 235
these: — 1. That the independence of America
should be made the basis of a peace. 2. That
economy should be observed in every department
of the State. 3. That the influence of the Crown
should be diminished. 4. That Ireland's depend
ence on the British Parliament should' be preserved
inviolate, as it had lately been established. These,
he said, he believed to be the political principles of
the whole administration ; he was sure they were
his own ; he never would forsake them ; and the
moment he saw them abandoned by his present
colleagues he would stand forth, he pledged him
self, as one of the warmest members of opposi
tion. What were Mr. Fox's motives for resigning,
General Conway said, he did not know. The
opinion he entertained about the necessity of
making America independent differed so little
from the sentiments of other members of the
Council, that to himself it appeared to be only a
subtle distinction, merely a shade of difference in
opinion. This declaration led Fox into a general explan
ation of his conduct in a speech an hour and a half
long, delivered with more than his usual eloquence.
The sum of what he said is shortly this : that his
opinions have been overruled at the Council on
several subjects, particularly respecting the inde
pendence of America. What the difference ex
actly consisted in he did not explain, because, he
said, that if he were to speak without reserve,
it would be said that he had transported to Ame
rica suspicions to which the Americans had before
been strangers, and made them more exacting in

236 LETTERS TO July,
their demands than they would otherwise have
been. He declared that he should not be surprised
to see the war revived in America on its original
plan. As to what Conway had laid down as the
principles of the administration, they were principles
which he had never heard of before, and which, if
really adopted by the Ministry, had been adopted
since he had retired, and justified his resignation ;
for they showed that he had much more weight at
the Council out of administration than in it. He
then mentioned the backwardness ofthe Ministry
to correct and punish the abuses and peculations
that have been committed in the East Indies ; and
said that, finding his opinion always overruled at
the Council table, he had formally signified to his
colleagues, before the death of Lord Rockingham,
that he should resign ; a step which he would have
taken immediately, had he not feared it might
affect the declining health of that nobleman. But
when Lord Rockingham died, and Lord Shelburne
was made First Lord of the Treasury, he was then
confirmed in his resolution, and immediately re
signed. Since that promotion, he said, the admini
stration was no longer that which the Parliament
and the nation had brought in ; that, for himself, he
had not the least confidence in the present admi
nistration ; and that he had, as was his duty, re
signed : that he had made a very great sacrifice :
that he did not affect such a stoic indifference for
what all the rest of the world earnestly aspired to
as to pretend that he had, without regret, resigned
high distinctions of fortune, power, honour, and
glory ; but he did not hesitate a moment to give

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 237
up all these advantages, and, what he prized above
them all, near political connection with those he
was most united to by blood and affection (mean
ing the Duke of Richmond, who stays in), rather
than submit to the treachery and infamy of con
tinuing in office, and patronizing by his name an
administration and its measures which in his con
science he disapproved, and believed dangerous and
fatal to the country. He then prophesied that all
the real friends of the constitution and of the people
would soon be in opposition again, and that Lord
Shelburne would be in administration with all the
old ministers.
Burke spoke against 'the appointment of the
First Lord of the Treasury. He exclaimed with
uncommon warmth (uncommon rage I should
rather say), that he had no confidence in the ad
ministration, constituted as it now was ; that he
saw in them, indeed, " satis eloquentice sed sa-
pientice parum ; " that in his soul he believed the
Government was more safely intrusted to the
hands of the late ministry ; that the country was
sold, betrayed, and ruined ; that his own conduct
in resigning could not appear interested, for it was
certainly most prejudicial to his fortune, most ad
verse and repugnant to his nature ; that his dis
position was an attachment to business, a desire to
exert his little talents to the utmost for his country,
to promote the public good, and assist in the public
business ; that, by a strange fatality, he had been
doomed to pass his days in opposition, and now,
after three months spent in a manner congenial to
his nature, he found himself condemned to pursue,

238 LETTERS TO July,
during the remainder of his life, the same unprofit
able course that he had formerly taken.
William Pitt answered Burke and Fox in severe
terms ; said that their great talents ought to be
considered at this time as public property, and that
to withhold their assistance from the public at a
time when it stood so much in need of them was a
species of treachery. To him, he said, the dispute
between the Ministers appeared to be only a con
test for power.
The new promotions are as follows: — Lord
Shelburne, First Lord of the Treasury ; William
Pitt, Chancellor of the Exchequer; Thomas Towns
hend, and Lord Grantham, who was lately am
bassador at Madrid, Secretaries of State ; Sir
George Young, Secretary at War.
The Americans have refused to enter into any
separate negotiation, so that peace seems much
more distant than we hoped. To this bad news
must be added the loss of the "Bahama Islands.
But let us quit this ungrateful subject. Adieu.
Love to our dear Kitty. S. R.
Letter XXIV.
Gray's Inn, July 26. 1782.
I am not to expect, then, my dear Roget,
any more letters from you on the melancholy sub
ject of Geneva. The few words which my dear sister
inclosed for me in her last letter, too fully confirm
all the fatal intelligence we had before received.
The warm interest which you know I took in the

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 239
cause of your fellow-citizens will have enabled you
to conceive the concern I feel at the issue of their
affairs. I lament it, too, from a more general con
sideration ; for I do not doubt that the conduct
of the pretended patriots of Geneva will be re
membered hereafter by the advocates for arbitrary
power; who, when they find the arguments by
which the people's cause is defended unanswerable,
betake themselves to an attack upon its defenders,
and triumph in showing the insincerity and selfish
ness of seditious demagogues. Thus are the
people alike the victims of the treachery of their
pretended friends and of the tyranny of their open
enemies. I am less astonished at the want of
public virtue and patriotism, which has appeared
in the chiefs of the Representants, than at their
folly and inattention to their private interests. For,
admitting that they were careless about the honour
and freedom of their country, surely prudential
and interested considerations alone might have in
duced them to risk their lives in defence of their
own fortunes, their character and consideration in
their country, rather than to preserve, at any rate,
a miserable existence, embittered by the reproaches
of their own consciences, and the contempt of man
kind, — " Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas." '
My dear sister gives me room to hope that she
will write me a detailed account of this melan
choly catastrophe. I am the more desirous of
this, as I think of continuing my account of the
1 Juvenal. Sat viii. 84

LETTERS TO July,
ijjfffairs of Geneva, not (undoubtedly) with a view
to its appearing in any publication, but merely as
an exercise and a matter of instruction and im
provement to myself.
What do you think of the Abbe St. Pierre's
project of perpetual peace, and Rousseau's observ
ations on it?1 A much stronger objection might,
I think, be made to the proposal than either of
those writers have foreseen and answered, which
is, that the ultimate consequence of instituting, as
supreme arbitrator of all the affairs of Europe, a
Diet, of which the majority would be the represent
atives of arbitrary princes, must be the total extir
pation of liberty. For the internal political dis
putes of every country must be submitted to the
decision of the Diet, there being no other alterna
tive but an appeal to war ; and the project supposes
war never to be made but by the whole confederacy".
To explain my meaning better — Suppose the pro
ject to be adopted, and a general European con
federacy to be formed ; a dispute arises in England
between the Crown and the Commons about the
extent of the royal prerogative ; and the King and
the people are both alike inflexible in their preten
sions. The confederates, who are the guarantees
of each national constitution, must be recurred to,
to decide the contest ; and no doubt the weight
of royal influence, the necessary ignorance of the
judges with respect to our constitution, and the
despotic principles of government prevalent in
their own states, will render their decision favour-
1 Entitled, Jugement sur la Paix perpetuelle, and published wilh
Rousseau's political works.

782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET.
able to the King. Nor is it any answer to thrs
objection to say, that the confederates are guaran
tees of every distinct constitution of government,
such as it exists at the time the confederacy was
formed; because, in disputes between different
members of a government, the question always is,
what is the constitution? and every ambitious
prince has prudence enough to cover his encroach
ments, and the stretches of his power, with the
name ofthe exercise of his constitutional preroga
tive. Besides it may often happen, from a change
in the character and manners of a nation, that to
maintain its present constitution is to destroy its
liberties ; witness England at this moment ; or
granting that the confederacy should violate the
first principle on which it was formed, who shall
take advantage of the violation and refuse obedi
ence to its decrees ? Shall a populace, unused to
arms, and ignorant of discipline, array themselves
for war against a league of all the powers of
Europe ? There would be nothing then to restrain
the general diet from deciding every contest for
the prince, and against his subjects. One victory
of this kind would encourage the prince to excite
fresh troubles, which must be brought before the
same partial tribunal, and the example wOuld soon
become general. It is absurd, as Rousseau says,
- to imagine that, if the project took place, many of
the confederate princes would unite their forces
for the purpose of making conquests ; but it is
not absurd to suppose that they would unite their
counsels in order to extend their authority over
their subjects : and it would be to be dreaded that
vol. i. R

242 LETTERS TO Oct.
not only princes, but even aristocratical govern
ments, would join in this cruel policy, by turns
assisting each other to become the tyrants of their
country. The evil would be without the possi
bility of a remedy ; for what would it avail a
country that she had many Brutuses among her
sons, if their virtue was overawed and rendered
.useless by a mighty league of all Europe, firmly
resolved " ut e conspectu libertas tolleretur." '
Whether Europe would not be compensated for
the loss of liberty in the very few states that still
retain any shadow of it, by having war banished
from all its quarters, is a question which I should
not hesitate to decide by saying, " Mihi potior
visa est periculosa libertas quieto servitio." 2 But
it is time to put an end to this long dissertation.
Adieu ! believe me, &c,
Saml. Romilly.

Letter XXV.
Gray's Inn, Oct. 25. 1782.
I was obliged to send my last letter to you,
my dear Roget, in so great a hurry, that I had
not time to read over what I had written. I hope,
however, you were able to make it out. From
that time till the present moment I have never had
leisure to write to you, and the hour which I now
devote to you is stolen from occupations which,
compared to any thing that I had less at heart than
i f ac. Agric. 24. a Sallust. Hist. Fragm. lib. i.

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 248
writing to yourself, I should think necessary. All
this is not so much to apologize (for apologies to
you would be ill placed) as to account for my
silence, and to prevent your being uneasy when
ever I am thus forced to interrupt our correspond
ence. Do not imagine, by my seeming to be
thus immersed in business, that I am yet called to
the bar. I cannot be called before six months ;
and a just diffidence, or rather knowledge, of my
self will make me postpone it for six months
longer. Indeed, the nearer I approach the term,
which I have formerly so often wished for, the
more I dread it. I sometimes lose all courage,
and wonder what fond opinion of my talents could
ever have induced me to venture on so bold an
undertaking ; but it too often happens (and I fear
that has been my case), that men mistake the de
sire for the ability of acting some very distinguished
part. Of those who may truly say
" aliquid jam dudum invadere magnum .
Mens agitat mihi ; nee placida contenta quiete est," '
very many were never designed by nature for
heroes. T3ut not to lose all the little time I have
upon no better a subject than myself, let me in
form you of news in which I presume you must
take the deepest interest.
It has been determined, in the Privy Council
of Ireland, to recommend the King to offer to
the Genevese a permission to establish them
selves in Ireland, and to grant them a sum of
money for the purpose. The King has agreed to
1 Virgil. Mn. ix. 186.
R 2

244 LETTERS TO Oct.
give 50,000/. It is proposed that the colorty shall
consist of 1000 persons, who understand the watch
manufacture ; and they are to have a charter of
incorporation, by which they will be enabled to
elect their own magistrates, and to regulate en
tirely their own internal police. The Duke of
Leinster, by letter, invites the colony to settle
upon his estate in the county of Wexford, in the
province of Leinster. He offers to give them,
by a pure and perpetual donation, a very large
tract of ground which he now lets (though much
below its value) for 600/. a-year; he engages to
procure them places of abode, and particularly
offers his own house, Leinster Lodge, a mansion
capable of lodging one hundred persons, till they can
build houses for themselves. The spot of ground
where he proposes that they should build their
little city is, he says, in one of the most fertile and
temperate parts of Ireland, at the confluence of
two rivers, at a convenient vicinity to the sea, and
distant about thirty miles from Dublin. All this
news you may depend on, for I have seen the
order ofthe Irish Council, and the letters of Lord
Temple and the Duke of Leinster. Other noble
men have invited the colony to settle upon their
estates, but none offer terms so advantageous and
so noble as the Duke of Leinster. You will
wonder how I gained all this intelligence, but your
astonishment will cease when I inform you that I
have had some visits from DTvernois. He hinted
to me that, besides the watch manufactory, there
was some thoughts of instituting a French College
at the New Geneva (for so the city is to be called).

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 245
It is to resemble the old Geneva in every thing,
except in having an upper and a lower town,
" et parvam Trojam, simulataque magnis ,
Pergama, et arentem Xanthi cognomine rivum
Agnosco, Scaeseque amplector limina porta?." '
You were perfectly right in supposing that no
such opinion is to be found in Hume, as M * * *
ascribes to the philosophe Anglais. That writer
does say, it is true, that England has not produced
any orator who may be compared with those of
antiquity ; but far from prophesying that it never
will, he writes purposely to exhort his countrymen
to the imitation of those great models ; and instead
of imputing the want of success in oratory of the
English to their great sense, he entirely refutes
that opinion.
The Essay of Hume, which I suppose is alluded
to, is, in my opinion, a very indifferent perform
ance. In examining all the causes of our inferiority
in eloquence, the writer passes over in silence that
which seems to me to be the most material — I
mean the different application which the ancients
gave to that science from that which we give it.
Our great men are every thing ; geometricians,
historians, poets, orators, and I know not what.
Demosthenes was an orator alone. Till we have
seen men of genius shut themselves up for whole
months, to study only the force and beauty of their
language, transcribing with their own hands eight
several times the works of an eloquent writer, and
struggling with unremitting efforts to overcome
every imperfection in their nature, we cannot
1 Virgil. JEn. iii. 349.
R 3

246 LETTERS TO Oct.
wonder that we have not a modern Demosthenes.
Hume is the more surprised that we have had
no orators (though he must or might have
heard Lord Chatham, Mr. Pulteney, Lord Hard-
wicke, Lord Mansfield, and Lord Camden), when
we have had such a writer as Lord Bolingbroke.
You know Lord Bolingbroke's history : during
the greater part of his life he was debarred a seat
in Parliament, or, in his own words, he was "strip
ped ofthe rights of a British subject, of all except
the meanest of them, that of inheriting ; " but, if
his delivery was equal to his style (and according
to Lord Chesterfield it was so), he was, at least,
capable of rivalling Cicero. You are unacquainted,
I believe, with his writings ; let me, therefore,
give you a specimen of some of his figures. I
have a multitude of them present to my memory.
Speaking ofthe criminal indifference and gaiety of
some of his contemporaries, he says, that "they were
men ready to drown the dying groans of their
country in peals of unseasonable mirth and laugh
ter;" of Catherine of Medicis, that "she first blew
up the flames of religious faction, and then endea
voured in vain to extinguish them in a deluge
of blood ; " of Philip IV. of Spain, that " he lan
guished rather than lived from the cradle to the
grave." To Sir Robert Walpole he speaks of the
many crimes which might now be proved against
him, of the many more which were ready to start
into light the moment the power by which he con
cealed them should determine.
Pray, thank my dear Kitty for her letter ; I
mean to answer her soon, and am rejoiced to find

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 247
she continues to draw the beautiful prospects that
surround you. To gaze on those sublime views,
to be conversing with you and my dear sister, and
walking with you and your little boy over your
grounds, are the frequent, but, alas ! the imaginary
occupations of your affectionate brother, Saml. Robiilly.

Letter XXVI.
Gray's Inn, Dec. 10. 1782.
Before I take any notice, my dear Roget,
of the contents of your letters of the 13th and
23d of last month, I must hasten to communicate
to you the agreeable news I have to tell you. It
is much less agreeable, however, than we were
flattered with hopes of, a fortnight ago. We have
had the greatest expectations of peace : the Par
liament, which was to have met the 26th of last
month, was adjourned to the 5th ofthe present: a
letter was sent from the Secretary of State to the
Governor of the Bank, informing him that a nego
tiation had been begun, and was very far advanced,
and that, before the meeting of Parliament, either
peace would be concluded, or all negotiations
would be at an end. The dealers in stocks were im
mediately in an uproar and tumult, which has lasted
almost ever since. The stocks rose and fell, one,
two, and sometimes three per cent, every day ; from
57, the price at which they were when this news
arrived, they one day rose to 65. The opening of
Parliament, however, has disappointed much of our
r 4

248 LETTERS TO Dec.
expectations : how much of them has been ful
filled, I cannot state to you more accurately than
by transcribing a part of the King's speech. It
shall be only a part; for, whatever other merits it
may possess, it has so little of that " imperatoria
brevitas" which Tacitus commends, that it fills
very nearly two columns in the newspapers.
" Since the close ofthe last Session, I have em
ployed my whole time in the care and attention
which the important and critical conjuncture of
public affairs required of me. I have pointed all
my views and measures, as well in Europe as in
North America, to an entire and cordial recon
ciliation with the colonies. Finding it indispens
able to the attainment of this object, I did not
hesitate to go the full length of the powers vested
in me, and offered to declare them free and inde
pendent States, by an article to be inserted in the
treaty of peace. Provisional articles are agreed
upon, to take effect whenever terms of peace shall
be finally settled with the court qf France. In thus
admitting their separation from the crown of these
kingdoms, I have sacrificed every consideration of
my own to the wishes and opinion of my people. I
make it my humble and earnest prayer to Almighty
God, that Great Britain may not feel the evils
which might result from so great a dimemberment
of the empire, and that America may be free from
those calamities which have formerly proved, in
the mother country, how essential monarchy is to
the enjoyment of constitutional liberty. Religion,
language, interest, affections may, and I hope will,
yet prove a bond of permanent union between the

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. '249
two countries. To this end, neither attention nor
disposition shall be wanting on my part. While I
have carefully abstained from all offensive operations
against America, I have directed my whole force,
by land and sea, against the other powers at war,
with as much vigour as the situation of that force,
at the commencement of the campaign, would per
mit. I trust that you feel the advantages resulting
from the safety of the great branches of our trade.
You must have seen, with pride and satisfaction,
the gallant defence of the governor and the garri
son of Gibraltar ; and my fleet, after having effected
the object of their destination, offering battle to
the combined fleets- of France and Spain on their
own coasts ; those of my kingdom have remained,
at the same time, perfectly secure, and your do
mestic tranquillity uninterrupted. This respect
able state, under the blessing of God, I attribute
to the entire confidence which subsists between
me and my people, and to the readiness which
has been shown by my subjects to stand forth in
the general defence. Having manifested to the
whole world, by the most lasting examples, the
signal spirit and bravery of my people, I conceived
it a moment not unbecoming my dignity, and
thought it a regard due to the lives and fortunes of
such brave and gallant subjects, to show myself
ready, on my part, to embrace fair and honourable
terms of accommodation with all the powers at
war. / have the satisfaction to acquaint you
that negotiations to this effect are considerably
advanced. * * * I have every reason to hope and
believe that I shall have it in my power, in a very

250 LETTERS TO Dec.
short time, to acquaint you that they have ended in
terms of pacification, which I trust you will see just
cause to approve. I rely, however, with perfect
confidence, on the wisdom of my Parliament, and
the spirit of my people, that, if any unforeseen
change in the belligerent powers should frustrate
my confident expectations, they will approve of the
preparations I have thought it advisable to make,
and be ready to second my most vigorous efforts in
the further prosecution of war. * * * I must re
commend to you an immediate attention, above all
things, to the state of the public debt. Notwith
standing the great increase of it during the war,
it is to be hoped that such regulations may still
be established, such savings made, and future loans
so conducted, as to promote the means o£ its gradual
redemption, by a fixed course of payment."
These are the most important passages in the
speech ; but it wanders over a multitude of sub
jects, calling the attention ofthe Parliament to the
affairs' of India, the scarcity of corn, a revision of
our commercial system, the late increase of rob
beries, the Mint, the King's revenue, particularly
the royal forests, the money voted for American
sufferers, &c. The King assures the Parliament,
too, that he has carried into strict execution the
Act passed in the last session for making reductions
in the civil list expenses.
There was not, in either house, any opposition
to the address. In the House of Lords, Lord Shel
burne explained the offer of declaring America in
dependent, not to be a present and irrevocable re
cognition of her independence, but a mere offer,

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 251
which, if peace did not follow, was to be entirely
at an end. Fox, in the other house, understood it
to be a full acknowledgment of the independence
of America ; supposed the word " offer " to be a
mere inaccuracy of expression ; and, upon this
ground only, approved the measure. But his speech
is worth giving you a fuller account of.
It appeared, from some parts of the speeches of
the mover and seconder of the address, that great '
sacrifices must be made to purchase peace. The
cession of Gibraltar was hinted at ; that fort was
represented to be an empty honour of little advan
tage to the country ; and it was said that, by giving
up to the Spaniards what they had so set their minds
upon, and what seemed to have been the sole object
of their ambition in the last wars, England would
secure the permanency of peace. Fox commended
the speech ; praised a part of the present admini
stration, but said that he saw great danger in some
membersof it; — declared that he never would make
any opposition to them, while they acted so wisely
as they did at present. He enlarged upon the wis
dom of signing a separate treaty of peace with
America, by which our acknowledgment of her
independence was made certain and irrevocable.
It was a measure which he had always himself
recommended when in administration, but which
was then disapproved. He did not doubt, how
ever, that, less powerful in the ministry than out
of it, he had much contributed to the adoption of
that measure ; and that, speaking in the House of
Commons on the opposite side from that of the
administration, his sentiments had had that weight

252 LETTERS TO Dec.
with his ancient colleagues which they never ob
tained in the council. He said that the acknow
ledgment of the independence of America was an
act so wise and so expedient, that he was only
sorry to find in the same speech which announced
it words expressive of reluctance and regret, of
distrust and apprehensions of its consequences:
that those apprehensions, he would venture to
affirm, were groundless; the consequences must be
happy to this country ; the Ministers need not fear,
they had acted well and wisely ; he would defend
them against themselves ; he would maintain
against any eloquent lord, that when America
was independent, the sun of Britain's glory was
not set (such had been once the expression of Lord
Shelburne) : on the contrary, that sun would now
shine out brighter than it had done for years
before. He would pledge himself to the world
that no learned lord (alluding to a former speech
of Dunning, now Lord Ashburton) should move
for an impeachment against the first minister ; that
minister might be secure ; his life was in no dan
ger ; the independence of America should not be
granted with such gloomy auspices as impeach
ments and public executions ; it should not be
sealed with Lord Shelburne's blood. He owned
that peace was most desirable ; yet he thought too
high a price might be paid for it. He would not
say that it could not be expedient, in any possible
situation of this country, to give up Gibraltar; but
he would say that, Great Britain and Ireland ex
cepted, it was the last of his Majesty's dominions
that ought to be ceded ; that it was the most

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 253
effectual instrument of war in our hands ; and
that, had it been properly employed by stationing
a fleet there, early in the present war, to have pre
vented D'Estaing from sailing to the West Indies,
we should probably have had peace at this moment.
To part with Gibraltar was to resign the Mediter
ranean altogether into the hands of the house of
Bourbon, to be theirs as completely and as abso
lutely as any lake or pool in their own dominions.
Gibraltar was an important .possession as a means
to gain us allies ; but when foreign powers saw
that we could afford them no assistance in the
Mediterranean, they would be little solicitous of
our alliance. To suppose that the cession of Gib
raltar would secure a longer duration of peace was
as unphilosophical as it was impolitic ; for one must
be strangely ignorant of human passions to suppose
that ambition could be extinguished by enjoyment ;
on the contrary, it was a passion whose appetite
was sharpened by being gratified ; a passion with
which every success was the parent of a thousand
new projects, and which the farther it advanced the
more unbounded were the prospeets that opened
before it. It had been said that the failure of the
Spaniards now would be a lesson to them here
after; and that the more important the advan
tages which we had reaped from Gibraltar during
this war, the more certainly would it be a useless
possession in future, when our enemies would
have learned to neglect it, and to point their
arms against some vulnerable part. But this
reasoning proceeds upon a notion (the vainest
that ever was conceived), that states are exempt

254 LETTERS TO Dec.
from human follies, prejudices, and passions; but
that states, and those who are entrusted with their
government, are, in fact, subject to all the weak
nesses incident to humanity, is a truth, of which
we need not go far to find a striking example.
It was not a first, a second, or a third cam
paign in which we had exhausted our strength,
lavished our treasures, and poured out our blood
upon the plains of America, quite as ineffectually
as the Spaniards have wasted their efforts against
the impregnable rock of Gibraltar, that taught us
to desist from our design. The ministers of that
day gained new obstinacy from every repulse ; and,
though their object was every day more distant,
they would still have pursued it with as much
eagerness and rage as ever, if this House had not
timely interposed, wrested the sword from their
hands, and saved the country. Let us trust for the
duration of peace, not to so frail a hope as that the
ambition of the Bourbons will be satiated, but to
the terror of our own arms.
Lord North, too, spoke much upon the import
ance of Gibraltar. It had one advantage, he said,
above what anything we could receive in return for
it could possess ; it was impregnable. He recom
mended that, notwithstanding all our domestic di
visions, we should be united against France and
Spain as one man. Peace was desirable to us, but
it was also desirable to our enemies. America was
exhausted; an attempt had been made by the
Congress to raise taxes, but without success : Hol
land was divided in herself, and as likely to con
sume her strength in intestine wars as to annoy her

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 255
neighbours : Spain was impatient till she could
turn her arms against her own revolted subjects in
South America ; and even France was in no con
dition to supply her allies with money. He claimed
merit to himself and his ancient colleagues for our
late successes, and for the happy change in the
aspect of public affairs. It was they who had made
the mighty preparations for the last campaign, and
had laid in such abundant naval stores. He said he
would tell our naval Alexanders that, if they had
conquered, they had conquered with the troops of
Philip. The day after the address had been voted, Fox
said in the House that he had quite mistaken
the purport of the King's speech ; that, as the
offer of independence to America had been ex
plained by Lord Shelburne in the House of Peers,
he by no means approved of it, but retracted all he
had said the preceding day in its praise. Burke
made a similar declaration, and talked of moving
an amendment to the address, which Fox affirmed
he would second. After so long a detail all re
flections of my own may well be spared.
To pass, then, to another subject. I am much
obliged to you for giving me so particular an ac
count of the difficulties which are supposed to stand
in the way of an emigration from Geneva. You seem
to think, as I do, that they are too weak to merit
a moment's consideration. One would think the
Genevese imagined their manufacture to be the
sole means by which they could support them
selves, or be useful to society ; and that, ceasing to
be watchmakers, they would cease to be men. I

256 LETTERS TO Dec.
confess I augured very ill of the project when my
dear sister was asked whether coals were burned in
Ireland, whether wine was drunk there, and was
importuned with other such minute and frivolous
inquiries. How different was the manly conduct
of the Hollanders, when, to preserve their liberty,
they resolved to transport their common wealth to
Batavia, the most pestilential climate upon the
whole face of the globe. Were I of Geneva, I
should be tempted to apply to my countrymen the
words of Brutus, " Nimium timemus mortem et
exilium et paupertatem. Hsec videntur Geneven-
sibus ultima esse in malis. Servitutem luxuriosam
modo et honorificam non aspernantur : si quid-
quam in extrema. ac miserrima contumelia. potest
honorificum esse."1 To many I hope they will be
inapplicable ; but all those who can bear to live
under the present government of Geneva deserve
all its severities, and all the contempt which attends
the condition of slaves. But perhaps there is more
of resentment than of reason in what I have said,
for I confess I am impatient with the prospect of
this second disappointment.
I have never read Locke's book on education
which you speak of, but I have always heard it
esteemed as one of his best works. From the idea
Rousseau himself gives me of him, I should have
supposed that our admired author had borrowed
all the physical part of his education from Locke,
but none of the moral part. Locke's plan seems
to have been to exercise the reason early, instead
of burdening the memory, according to the usual
1 Cic. Epist. ad Brutum. 17.

1782. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 257
method ; but you know it is not Rousseau's design
to make children reasoners. Madame Genlis is
very ungrateful if what Roustan tells me is true
(and he is an admirer of hers), that the best part
of her book is borrowed from, the Emile. Rous
seau's reasoh for refusing to educate a prince,
namely, that his scholar would afterwards refuse
the fitle, flows necessarily from the best maxim of
practical philosophy, that we should avoid tempt
ations ; a maxim which is so little of a paradox,
that no person of the plainest understanding can
refuse his assent to it, and that it is recognised by
every Christian in his daily prayers. Rousseau
might, with more propriety than any other writer,
have used the exclamation which I have some
where read was frequently in the mouth of a
Spanish polemic, "Ye powers that preside over
controversy, give me, I ask no more, give me an
adversary that understands me."
S. R.
Letter XXVII.
London, Jan. 7. 1783.
It would seem, my dear Roget, by your last
letter, that you thought I had affected doubt of
succeeding in the way of life on which I am to
enter, only to draw from you such praises as might
encourage me in my pursuit. That object, had it
been mine, must have been fully gratified by your
silence, which, introduced as it is, is a greater
encouragement to me, and is more offensive to
modesty even than a panegyric upon talents which
vol. i. s

258 LETTERS TO Jan.
your indulgence might have supposed me to pos
sess. However, I assure you I had no such wish,
and that what I wrote to you was but a faithful
transcript of what I felt. Could I but realize the
partial hopes and expectations of my friends, there
could be no doubt of my success, almost beyond
my wishes ; but in myself I have a much less in
dulgent censor, and, in this perhaps alone, I cannot
suffer their judgment to have equal weight with
my own. I have taught myself, however, a very
useful lesson of practical philosophy, in order to make
myself easy in my situation, which is, not to suffer
my happiness to depend upon my success. Should
my wishes be gratified, I promise myself to employ
all the talents and all the authority I may acquire
for the public good. Should I fail in my pursuit,
I console myself with thinking that the humblest
situation of life has its duties, which one must feel
a satisfaction in discharging; that, at least, my
conscience will bear me the pleasing testimony of
having intended well; and that, after all, true
happiness is much less likely to be found in the
high walks of ambition than in the " secretum iter
et fallentis semita vitae." Were it not for these
consolations, and did I consider my success at the
bar as decisive of my future happiness, my appre
hensions would be such that I might truly say,
"Cum illius diei mihi venit in mentem, quo mihi
dicendum sit, non solum commoveor animo, sed
etiam toto corpore perhorresco." 1
My account of the new edict of Geneva did not
come from the republican Beauchateau, but from
i Cic. In Q. Ca;cil. Div. 13.

1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 259
one who feels no less indignation at it than your
self. I hear of articles in it more insulting and
tyrannical than any you mention ; such as the
abolition of the liberty of the press ; a prohibition
under a severe penalty to bear arms, or even to
have any weapon in one's house ; a law to make
all clubs unlawful, even those for amusement; to
make it unlawful to speak of politics in a coffee
house, or even in a private family j to punish
every transgression with great severity, and to
compel the master and servants of the coffee-house,
or the master of the family where the words are
spoken, under a heavy penalty, to inform against
their guests. But you must tell me that you have
read all this in the edict before I can give credit
to it. Not that I suppose men who can resolve to
destroy the liberties of their country, are likely to
be guided by any sense of decency in the choice
of the means most proper to effect their object;
but a tyranny so complete and so atrocious as this,
seems quite repugnant to the manners of the age
we live in. It is only under the detested tyrants
of Rome that one can find its parallel ; and it is the
wonderful pencil of Tacitus that alone can paint
all its horrors. "Non alias magis anxia et pavens
civitas, egens adversum proximos ; congressus,
colloquia, nota? ignotasque aures vitari ; etiam
muta atque inanima, tectum et parietes circum-
spectabantur." • I rejoice, however, that the Go
vernment has not deigned to assume any mask :
one has at least the satisfaction to reflect that
none will suffer its severities but willing slaves.
i Annal. lib. iv. 69.
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260 LETTERS TO Jan.
Besides, the instructive lesson, which Geneva af
fords the world, acquires tenfold weight from the
horrors of such a tyranny. How much is it to be
lamented that such a subject should not find an
historian worthy of it. Why is not there some
Genevan who, now that he has lost his own coun
try, will enlarge his patriotism into a divine phi
lanthropy, and, considering the world as his. coun
try, turn the miseries of his native city to the
advantage of mankind ? I would fain see the his
tory of Geneva written, not by a member of the
commission, whose talents must be prostituted to
palliate the faults, and it may be to excuse the
treasons, of himself and his colleagues ; but by
one who has no interest in the subject but the in
terest of virtue : "Uni aequus virtuti atque ejus
amicis." * If you know a citizen of this character
(as you assuredly do), an enthusiast of virtue, one
who to a Roman's patriotism adds the utmost
sensibility of heart, conjure him to undertake the
subject ; entreat him not to doubt his talents ; let
him be assured that the energy of his mind and
the tenderness of his heart cannot fail to render
him eloquent. Exhort him to write with no view to
interest, with no view even to reputation, but only
for the benefit of mankind, and most of posterity.
Find such an historian, and let me have the
honour to be his translator ; for that is the only
literary character in which I can venture for many
years, if ever, to appear before the public. I have
attempted, indeed, the very subject which I am
now exhorting you not to suffer to remain without
i Hor. II. S. i. 70.

1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 26 1
an historian ; but my attempt, which (for I had
scarce any materials) was only an exercise, and
consisted but of detached parts, such as seemed
to afford the greatest scope for imagination, has
corroborated my opinion that it is not for me yet
to think of being an author. Most of what I
wrote I had the grace to destroy immediately
after. Some passages, however, I preserved ; and,
though it may seem inconsistent with the rest of
what I have said upon my composition, I shall, if
I do not find wherewith to fill this letter, send
you, for your opinion, some of the characters
which I had drawn* ; not for your opinion as to
* " Duroveray was at this time Attorney-General of the Republic ;
an honour which he owed less to acquired talents than to his zeal for
liberty, and to the bold and decided manner in which he had engaged
in the ptrty of. the citizens. His natural eloquence was little improved
by study or by art ; but the violence of his temper supplied him with
bold and imposing images, and the warmth and quickness of his passions
with a rapid and impetuous elocution. These natural endowments
soon rendered him one of the most conspicuous characters in the com
monwealth, and the citizens the more willingly gave him their con
fidence, as he was an entire stranger to artifice ; the ingenuous openness
of his character displayed qualities less proper to conciliate the affections,
than to command the applause of his fellqw citizens. He was violent,
resolute, uncomplying, warm and overbearing in dispute, exacting rather
than courting approbation, and impatient of contradiction as well from
friends as from enemies.
" Claviere, who might be considered, next to D., as chief of the repre
sentor party, was of a character Very unlike that of the Attorney-
General. Not born in the, city, nor the son of a eitizen, his zeal in the
popular cause wanted the animating warmth of national prejudices; for
which sentiments of philanthropy and general principles of politics are
but a feeble substitute. His reason might convince him of the people's
rights, and the government's injustice ; %ut his heart had not inherited
the enthusiasm of liberty, or* the stern hatred of tyranny. Nor were
his passions strong and energetic to conceal or supply his want of
patriotism. His genius was penetrating and subtle,, not bold and
enterprising. Though artful and cautious, he was incapable of that
firm and deliberate calmness which is the most requisite quality in a
popular leader. His timid ambition, intoxicated by the prospect of
success which a delusive imagination painted to him, yet startled and
was checked by the least suspicion of a reverse of fortune : even his art
forsook him when it was most required, and he knew not, in any critical
s 3 „

262

LETTERS TO Jan.

style or composition, for in that respect they are
beneath your notice, but as to truth of design ; in
a word, to know whether you think I have caught
any of the features of their characters, and have
made any progress in that which Pope calls the
proper study of mankind.
There are those, then, it seems, who think the
plenipotentiaries justified, because they acted under
their royal master's commands. I, on the contrary,
have always been taught that no commands, no
fear, not even of death, can ever excuse the author
of the instrument of a flagrant injustice. There
once, too, were men of honour in France who
thought so ; witness the gallant soldier who re-

moment, how to dissemble his fears, or to conceal hisjntemperate
hopes. " Vernes had all those qualities which can adorn and render amiable
a tranquil and studious life, but nothing of the republican's force and
energy. Tender, mild, affectionate, learned, eloquent, and polite ; the
friend. of Rousseau, but, at the same time, the friend of Voltaire ; his
love of virtue was blemished by an intemperate love of letters, of glory,
and of applause. Nature designed him for an ornament to a Trajan's
court, in whose pure serenity every lesser virtue flourishes and is em
bellished with all the innocent elegancies of life ; and not to embark
amidst the tempests of a divided republic, where occasion may call for
those higher virtues at which vulgar natures shudder. She had denied
¦him the masculine vigour of mind which shrinks not at the sight of
blood when liberty can be purchased at no less a price.
" Lamotte was a true republican, born in a low condition of life, and
destined to a mechanic trade. His rude bluntness, the boldness of his
language, and his ostentatious contempt of the accidental distinctions
of fortune, challenged attention to his singular character, and he de
lighted in that singularity. He affected alike to despise the foppery of
artificial manners; the refinements of systematic polities, and the re
sources of study and of learning. Yet he possessed a rough and ner
vous eloquence, whose vigorous sallies produced the greater effect as
they were the less expected ; but his arguments were mingled with
coarse and unseasonable jests ; his language was uncouth, his pronun
ciation vulgar, his tone of voice loud and clamorous. Such manners
could not fail of being highly offensive to the wealthy families, who
looked down with scornful pity on a man, who, glorying in the mean
ness of his condition, had yet the presumption to be ambitious."

1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 9,63
turned for answer to the mandate ofthe most bloody
tyrant of France, " Je supplie votre Majeste d'em-
ployer mes bras et ma vie a choses faisables."
Our ministers seem, in the House of Commons,
to be very weak in orators, however strong they
may be in numbers. If Mr. Pitt had more ex
perience, and were more accustomed to business,
in short, if he were some years older than he is, he
might almost alone support the administration ;
but talents as wonderful even as those he possesses
can hardly qualify a man, at the age of twenty-three
or twenty-four, for the arduous part he has to sus
tain. With a great command of language and
quickness of parts, it is no difficult task to support
any side in a debate ; but to propose taxes in such
a manner as may be palatable to the Parliament,
when almost every resource of finance is exhausted,
and to be ready to answer the multitude of objec
tions which are started from every quarter of the
House, is an undertaking to which one would sup
pose nothing but long habit and the most perfect
knowledge of the subject could render any man
equal. Mr. Pitt is soon to propose some plan for
a reform of the parliamentary representation ; but
who is so sanguine as to hope that it will be
adopted by the present Parliament ;— a Parliament
elected under the predominant influence of the late
ministry, and many of whose members cannot be
ignorant that a new-modelled representation will,
in effect, be an exclusion of themselves from Par
liament ? The present Parliament was tried last
session upon both questions, of a new represent
ative system, and of shortening the duration of Par-
s 4

264 LETTERS TO Mar.
liaments, and rejected both by a majority of almost
two to one ; since when, I cannot see that any
thing has happened to convince them of the ne
cessity of these reforms.
Your most affectionate brother,
Saml. Romilly.

Letter XXVIII.
Dear Roget, Gray's Inn, March 21. 1783.
- I am very sorry my silence should have oc
casioned you any uneasiness ; my letter of the
10th of last month ought to have arrived at Lau
sanne before the date of your last ; I make no
doubt you have received it since. You do me but
justice when you suppose that I am prevented from
writing to you by business, and that you are never
forgotten by me. I lost no time in executing your
commission respecting Linguet. Three numbers,
containing the Memoires sur la Bastille, had been
published when your letter reached me ; these I
have sent to you by Lecointe, who will put them
in the post at Geneva. I never was more com
pletely disappointed in any book than in this.
Before he enters upon his subject, he talks so much
of the horrors, and of the unparalleled atrocities of
the Bastille, putting his imagination and his lan
guage to the rack for the strongest images and ex
pressions, that one is quite astonished, afterwards,
to find only a narrative of a confinement, rigorous,
indeed, but such as one would expect in almost

1783.

THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 265

every prison. He resembles the poet, his country
man, who began, —
" Je chante le ' vainqueur des vainqueurs de la Terre ; "
and one may very well say with Boileau, —
" Que produira l'auteur apres tous ces grand cris ?
La montagne en travail enfante une squris."
Even his motto is as injudicious as all the
rest. " Non mihi si voces1 centum sint," &c.
After this mighty promise upon the cover, one
opens the book, and behold it is with the utmost
difficulty that the author is able to spin out three
small pamphlets, of which his narrative does
not occupy a third part. The memoirs are useful
in one respect, as they serve to convince one that
no account of the Bastille coming from a prisoner,
can be at all interesting, and that the only men
qualified to write a good history of the prison are
the governor of it, or the lieutenant de police.
Even with Linguet's exaggerated language, the
horrors of the Bastille fall much short of what
one's imagination had painted to one. I cannot
agree -with him " que jamais oppression n'a ete si
cruelle ;" much less should I say, " que jamais elle
n'a ete reprochee avec tant d' energie." I per
ceive, by your letter, that you are still inclined to
think Linguet a good writer. It is to myself only
I ought to make excuses for differing from you in
opinion ; but, indeed, upon this subject I do differ
from you entirely. This, at least, I think certain :
if Linguet is eloquent, we must not call De
mosthenes so, or Cicero, or Rousseau, for no two
things can differ more than their style of writing
and his. We find all those great writers, in differ-
1 This word is Ungues in Virgil.

266

LETTERS TO .Mar.

ent parts of their works, pleading their, own cause,
painting their own sufferings, and reproaching their
enemies with the wrongs which they had done
them. In doing this, we find that they content
themselves with copying faithfully what passes in
their own mind, with representing every thing ex
actly as it struck themselves, and with giving a
voice, if I may so express myself, to nature. They
keep the attention of their readers fixed upon the
single subject they are treating of, because they
know that all ambitious ornaments will only weaken
its force. . We never find them straining their ima
gination to find out metaphors and similes that
were never imagined before. They invite, they
even force us to think, but it is on the subject
before us, not on the ornaments with which it is
profusely covered ; they do not oblige us to pause
at every figure to consider its meaning ; in a word,
they do not sacrifice their subject to its ornaments :
they seek to show us what they have suffered, and
how they have been wronged, not what wit, ima
gination, and powers of language they possess.
I am not surprised that you were in such haste
to sell out your stock after reading the author
of the Finances d'Angleterre. However, French
writers upon our government and politics deserve
very little attention ; they are commonly very ig
norant of the subject on which they write, and very
partial against the English. De Lolme, and perhaps
Montesquieu, are the only foreigners whom I have
read, who have written any thing worth reading
upon our constitution. I can say nothing of
Mably, for I have not seen his book ; but the inac-

1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 267
curacies, to use no harsher an expression, of the
French writers in general, are unpardonable. Who
can imagine that the author of the treatise on
Lettres de Cachet believed what he was writing,
or that he had taken the trouble to inquire into
the fact, when he tells the world that the trial by
jury is falling 'into disuse amongst us, and that the
habeas corpus can only be obtained with difficulty.
A-propos of the Lettres de Cachet, that book has
confirmed me in my opinion, that religion is neces
sary to excellence even in the arts ; and I cannot
doubt that, if the Comte de Mirabeau had been as
devout as he was animated, he would have been
infinitely more eloquent. With what energy might
he have invoked the Author of his existence, and
have called upon him to witness his veracity, instead
of using that cold exclamation, " J'atteste l'honneur
que tout dans mon recit est conforme a la verite!"
With how much, more eloquence might he have
committed his child to the care of Providence, and
have implored its vengeance on his head, if ever he
became a friend or an instrument of oppression,
than have addressed those vows, as one may say, to
aerial nothing, " Puisse la mort vous moissoner
avant Page," &c.^&c. Swift has written a book1
to prove the advantages of Christianity ; but the
work is ludicrous, and his principal argument is,
that if Christianity was utterly destroyed, the wits
would want a subject for pleasantry, and minute
philosophers an enemy to combat. The subject,
however, might, I think, very well be treated
seriously ; at least I know ' that when I was at
i Entitled, An Argument against abolishing Christianity.

268

LETTERS TO Mar)

Paris, every thing I saw convinced me that, inde
pendently of our future happiness and our sub-
limest enjoyments in this life, religion is neces
sary to the comforts, the conveniences, and even
to the elegances and lesser pleasures of life. Not
only I never met with a writer truly eloquent, who
did not, at least, affect to believe in religion, but I
never met with one in whom religion was not the
richest source of his eloquence. Cicero, sceptical
as he is in his philosophical writings, in his orations
always (except once or twice where it was his in
terest to shake the established faith of his country)
appears to be a firm believer. He repeatedly
invokes those " Dii immortales" who he knew did
not exist, and is never perhaps so eloquent as
where he adopts even all the absurdities of pagan
ism : where, for instance, in his pleading for Milo,
he attests the sacred hills and groves of Albania,
its subverted altars, and the great Jupiter Latiaris,
that they were roused to punish the infamous
Clodius who had polluted all their holy rites :
where, in his oration for Sextius, he invokes to his
aid Jupiter Capitolinus, Juno, Minerva, and the
Dii Penates, whose temples and shrines he had
secured from destruction, and that maternal Vesta,
whose priestesses he had saved from violation, and
whose eternal fire he had preserved from being
extinguished in the blood of his fellow-citizens, or
lost in the general conflagration of the city : where,
in his defence of Flaccus, he works upon the pas
sions of his audience, by representing the sister of
his client, a vestal, in the delirium of her grief,
neglecting the sacred fire on which the existence

1783.

THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 269

of Rome depended, or likely to extinguish its eter
nal flames with her tears. But the instances are
innumerable where the eloquence of Cicero owes
all its wonderful force to the fables, the errors, and
the superstitious rites of heathenism : and one
cannot doubt that the same observations may be
extended to the literature of France, when one
reflects that her first orators are Bossuet, Massillon,
and Flechier ; and that the finest pieces of poetry,
in the language, are Athalie, Zaire, and Rous
seau's Odes.
I suppose the Courrier de I'Europe, and all the
gazettes, have proclaimed to you the scandalous
alliance between Fox and Lord North. It is not
Fox alone, but all his party ; so much that it is
no exaggeration to say that of all the public cha
racters of this devoted country (Mr. Pitt only
excepted), there is not a man who has, or who
deserves, the nation's confidence. But that even
these men may not be judged unheard, the apo
logy for their conduct which they offer, or rather
with which they insult the public, is this. They
say the great cause of enmity between them was
the American war, which being removed, there
remains no obstacle to their now> becoming
friends : that this country has long been shame
fully rent with party feuds and animosities, to
which it is now high time to put an end, by unit
ing all the talents of the country in one adminisr
tration : that their alliance implies no departure
from their ancient principles ; for, though each
party consents to act with men whom they formerly
opposed, yet neither gives up any of their po-

270 LETTERS TO Apr.
litical sentiments : that an administration formed
of men holding contrary speculative opinions in
politics is no novelty in this country : that even
Lord Shelburne's administration was one of this
kind, the Lord Chancellor and the Lord Advo
cate of Scotland being the warm advocates of the
Crown, and of the present established Constitu
tion, and the other Ministers being the zealous
friends of the people, and the promoters of a
reformation of the Constitution. These sophisms
are not worth refuting.
Adieu ; I make no apology for breaking off
abruptly, since it is to. procure you the pleasure of
hearing from my father. Yours most affectionately, S. R.
Letter XXIX.
London, April 1. 1783.
To compensate, my dear Roget, for having
of late written to you so little upon politics, I
propose that it shall be the principal subject of the
present letter. The peace has by no means de
prived me of materials ; on the contrary, it has ra
ther increased them. To one who would acquire a
knowledge of mankind, the political contests of this
country offer much for reflection ; unhappily the
reflections they suggest, at least to an Englishman,
and therefore to you, my dear Roget, as well as
to myself, must be of a very melancholy kind.
The long-expected, and I will add, the much-
dreaded, 'administration of Lord North and Fox

1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 271
has not yet taken place, though five weeks have
elapsed since any of the late Ministers, except
Pitt, have acted as Ministers, and this at a time
when we are engaged in various negotiations ofthe
greatest importance. What is the true cause of
this delay I cannot inform you ; some impute it
to the averseness which the King entertains to the
appointing of an administration so profligate ; others
to the same disposition in the Chancellor, and the
influence he has over his Majesty. The week
before last, Mr. Coke gave notice in the House of
Commons that, if an administration was not formed
before the following Friday (March 21.), he should
move for an address to the King upon the sub
ject. When the day came, he was informed that
the new Ministry was settled. The Duke of Port
land had arranged it, and itwas (according to a list
which appeared the next day in the newspapers) .
as follows : — The Duke himself, First Lord of the
Treasury; Lord John Cavendish, Chancellor of
the Exchequer ; Lord North and Mr. Fox, Se
cretaries of State ; Lord Keppel, First Lord of
the Admiralty ; Lord Stormont, President of the
Council; Lord Carlisle, Lord Privy Seal. In a
day or two, however, the project of this new Ad
ministration was laid aside; owing, as is pretended,
to the King's having insisted upon having a list of
the names of the persons who were to fill all the
inferior departments before he would make any
appointment, and the Duke of Portland and his
party having absolutely refused to comply with
that requisition.
On the following Monday, Mr. Coke made

272 LETTERS TO Apr.
his promised motion, for an address to the King,
praying that he would be graciously pleased to
form an administration entitled to the confi
dence of the people, and such as might have a
tendency to put an end to the unfortunate divi
sions and distractions of this country. The mo
tion was carried without a division, but not with
out debate ; in which Fox inveighed against the
Chancellor, once his boasted friend, and the sub
ject of his panegyrics. He insisted upon the
necessity, in order to our salvation from the dan
gers which threatened us, of an union of all
parties, and of a general amnesty of all animosities
and ancient prejudices. Divisions and opposition,
according to him, would prove the destruction of
the country ; he would have it so, if possible, that
there should be no difference of opinion in the
nation ; and to attain that desirable end of unani
mity, he would consent to unite even with the
Shelburne party, as well as with that of Lord
North. That if any men could suppose that, in
times so critical as the present, he, and those who
acted with him, were actuated merely by motives
of private interest, he would not condescend to
remove their suspicions. Lord North was up
braided by some of his former friends with having
abandoned them, and with having disgracefully
made, not a coalition with Fox, but an humble sub
mission to him ; with having consented to accept
a subordinate office, and to form part of a Cabinet
in which there would always be a majority against
him. Lord North treated these reproaches as the
mere effects of disappointment in those who saw

1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 273
that, having less power and authority in the in
tended administration than he had when he was
in office before, he would be less able to serve
them. Mr. Pitt treated the offer of a coalition
held out to him by Fox with all the scorn which it
deserved : " He never would consent to call the
abandonment of former principles a forgetting of
ancient prejudices ; nor would he be, by any con
sideration, induced to pass an amnesty upon mea
sures which had brought his country almost to the
verge of ruin ; but he saw that his system of
politics differed from that of his contemporaries,
and he felt that his principles and his temper were
not calculated for the times in which he lived."
Since this debate it has been much reported that
an administration will be formed from which both
Fox and Lord North will be excluded, but to this
I give no credit; and the only hope with which I
endeavour to console myself is that such an ad
ministration cannot be of long duration, but must
soon be put an end to, either by disputes among its
own members, or by majorities of the House of
Commons declaring against them ; though, after
what we have seen, we can hope for little good from
the House of Commons. Fox seems already to have
lost all his popularity ; and it is almost a general
wish that some man of character and credit may
be opposed to him as a candidate for Westminster,
at the election which his acceptance of a place
will render necessary. Lord North has lost still
more in the public estimation. Wonderful as it
may seem, it is certain that he was growing into
a kind of popularity. The tranquillity in which.
VOL. I. T

274 LETTERS TO April,
he was left by his successors, after the loud threats
which had been heard of parliamentary inquiries
and impeachment, was considered by many as a
complete triumph over his enemies, and an un
answerable proof of his innocence ; though cer
tainly there are other more plausible ways of ac
counting for ministers avoiding to bring into
precedent the instituting of rigorous inquiries into
the conduct of their predecessors.
April 11. — You see, my dear Roget, that till this
moment I have not been able to find an oppor
tunity to finish my letter. Since my being inter
rupted in it, the new administration has been ap
pointed ; it is exactly the same as that which I
have already mentioned had been proposed by the
Duke of Portland, with the addition of the follow
ing appointments : — Burke is Paymaster of the
Forces ; the other Lords of the Treasury are Sir
Grey Cooper of the North party, Mr. Montagu
and Lord Surrey of the Whig party. Colonel
North is to be the secretary to his father, and Lord
North is to be created a Peer. The Lord Chan
cellor has resigned, and the Great Seal is to be
put in commission ; the Lords Commissioners to
be Lord Loughborough, formerly Wedderburn
(the man whom Fox has repeatedly charged with
being the immediate author of the American war),
and two other judges. Last Monday Fox was
re-elected for Westminster, because no person op
posed him. The populace received him with
hisses, hooting, and every other mark of dis
pleasure ; he attempted to speak to them several
times, but to no purpose ; they were resolved not

1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 275
to hear him. Byng and Lord Surrey, Fox's great
friends, and men who were once very popular, en
deavoured to harangue the people, but all in vain ;
the people would listen to none of them. At last
Fox was proposed, and of mere necessity elected ;
afterwards he with difficulty obtained an audience
from the people, and the very short speech he
made was frequently interrupted by the hisses of
his hearers.
Pray, when you write to Dumont, make my
excuses for not answering the letter which M.
Mercier brought me. I had intended to have
written by Lecointe, but he went sooner than I
expected. S.R.
Letter XXX.
My dear Roget, London, May 9. 1783.
I was in hopes I should have been able to
give you a good account of a debate which took
place the day before yesterday in the House of
Commons, upon a motion of Mr. Pitt, for a more
equal representation in Parliament ; but, though I
was at the House by twelve o'clock, I could not
gain admittance, the gallery having been quite full
at a little after eleven, and three times as many as
it would hold obliged to come away. One might
imagine, from this crowding, that a great many per
sons took concern in the fate of their country; but
the truth is, that it was the eloquence of Mr. Pitt,
and not the subject on which it was to be em
ployed, that excited people's curiosity : and, no
t 2

276 LETTERS TO May,'
doubt, the reflection which his speech produced in
the minds of many of his hearers, was not unlike
that which the usurer makes upon the preacher in
the Diable Boiteux, " II a bien fait son metier ;
allon s faire le notre."
We have lately had a very convincing proof that
laws which contradict and (if I may so express
myself) do violence to the general sentiments of
a nation, never can be executed. Two officers
quarrelled about a gaming debt; they did not
fight till six months afterwards, when a duel en
sued. One of the officers was shot through the
lungs, and, though he could with difficulty stand,
he insisted upon firing ; he did so, and killed his
adversary. The law is express, that to kill a man
in a duel is murder. The coroner's inquest, how
ever, which sat upon the body of the person killed,
refused to bring in a verdict of murder ; and the
body was buried in Westminster Abbey, attended
by the choir, and with a kind of military pomp.
A few days afterwards the other officer died.
I have just got the newspaper with the account
of the debate upon Mr. Pitt's motion. The motion
was, that the House should come to the three fol
lowing resolutions: — 1. That it was the opinion of
the House that measures were highly necessary to
be taken to prevent bribery and corruption at
future elections for Parliament. 2. That, in future,
when the majority of voters for any borough should
be convicted of gross and notorious corruption
before a committee of that House, such borough
should be disfranchised, and the minority of voters
not so convicted should be entitled to vote for the

1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. .277
county in which such borough should be situated.
3. That an addition of knights of the shire and of
representatives of the metropolis should be made
to the representative body. In his speech, he said
that the addition he would propose should be of
about 100 members. He spoke of a perfectly
equal representation as a wild Utopian scheme
which never could be realized, and gave as a
reason for not proposing to strike off the corrupt
boroughs and those which are the patrimony of
particular families, that it would be an unjust and
an unwarrantable invasion of private property.
This is a kind of argument which, I confess, has
no great weight with me ; for I' think the laws are
not bound to protect men in the possession of
such pecuniary advantages as they ought never to
have obtained. If a man's having a pecuniary
interest in a thing, no matter how acquired, is
sufficient to make his property in it. sacred, then
may the laws become a shield to every species of
fraud, iniquity, and immorality. The motion was
lost (as you will, no doubt, have expected) by a
majority of 293 against 149. Fox strenuously de
fended the motion; Lord North as warmly op
posed it. Burke rose to speak ; but it was late,
and a great many members, dreading the length of
his oration, quitted the House at the very same
moment, which so much offended him that he sat
down without speaking : this has happened to him
more than once.
I am much obliged to you for giving me your
sentiments on the question, whether any crime
ought to be punished with death. The objection
t 3

278 LETTERS TO May,
you make to the punishment of death, founded on
the errors of human tribunals and the impossibility
of having absolute demonstration of the guilt of a
criminal, strikes me more forcibly than any argu
ment I have ever before heard on the same side of
the question. I confess, however, that to myself
it seems absolutely impossible, even if it were to
be wished (of which I am not quite sure), to omit
death in the catalogue of human punishments; for
if the criminal will not submit to the punishment
inflicted on him, if he escapes from his prison,
refuses to perform the labour prescribed to him,
or commits new crimes, he must, at last, be
punished with death. So it is, at least, in the
Utopia of Sir Thomas More ; and it is a very
melancholy reflection, that some of the miserable
victims of that excellent philosopher's compassion
might, if his visions had ever been realized, have
suffered years of miserable servitude in addition to
the punishment of death, which would at last be
inflicted on them as the consequence of crimes
which they had been provoked to commit. One
reason why I cannot think that death ought so
carefully to be avoided among human punishments
is, that I do not think death the greatest of evils.
Beccaria and his disciples confess that it is not, and
recommend other punishments as being more se
vere and effectual, forgetting, undoubtedly, that
if human tribunals have a right to inflict a severer
punishment than death, they must have a right
to inflict death itself.
You will not, I hope, conclude from all this that
I am perfectly satisfied with the penal codes that

1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 279
now subsist in Europe, and particularly with that
in my own country, where theft (pilfering it should
rather be called), forgery, and every description of
the Crimen falsi are punished with death. The
laws of our country may, indeed, be said to be
written in blood ; and we may almost apply to
ourselves the words of Montaigne, " II n'est si
homme de bien qu'il mette a l'examen des loix
toutes ses actions et pensees, qui ne soit pendable
dix fois en sa vie."
Since you mentioned Locke on Education, I
have read it. I have lent it, too, to Roustan, who
exclaims with Made Genlis against the injustice
of Rousseau, and wonders how he could dare to call
his subject new, after Locke's treatise. But what
there is in common between the moral system of
the one and the other I leave you to judge, when
Locke, according to his manner of education,
would have curiosity in a child cultivated and en
couraged, and all his questions answered to his
understanding ; would have the idea of God very
early impressed on his mind, and have him taught
to pray soon after he can speak ; would have a
disposition to gejaerosity encouraged in a child, by
making him sensible that it is his interest to be
generous, and by taking care that more shall always
be repaid him than he has given away ; would
have him stimulated to learning, by giving him
dominion over his younger brothers and sisters,
and making him their instructor ; and when he
relies so much upon the article of good-breeding,
and repeats his instructions upon it so often, that
he seems to have more remembered that he was
T 4

280 LETTERS TO May,
educating a gentleman than a man. Rousseau was
infinitely better acquainted with his subject than
Locke ; that is, with the dispositions, passions, ca
pacity, and intelligence of children. Nevertheless,
I admit that Rousseau owes a great part of his
book to Locke ; inasmuch as Locke directed the
attention of Rousseau to objects which he might
otherwise have overlooked, and that to some errors
in Locke we owe some truths in Rousseau. The
book is well written ; not indeed with the elegance
of an Addison, but with an energy of which Ad
dison was incapable, particularly in those passages
where the author inveighs against public schools,
as seminaries of every pernicious principle ; and
where he reproaches the generality of parents with
inculcating every vice in the tender minds of their
children, not indirectly and by example only, but
directly and by way of precept.
You have perfectly reconciled me to your plan
of returning to England, and I now not only con
sent to it, but earnestly solicit its execution. Indeed,
you do not know how painfully I resisted my own
inclinations when, alarmed, though perhaps unrea
sonably, for your health, I started objections to
your scheme. But one short truth will best show
it. Of all my life, that short period which elapsed
between your marriage and your being taken ill
was infinitely the most happy. Let me then renew
that happiness. Nor is it for my pleasure alone,
but for a much better purpose, that I wish you
were again in England. I have often lamented
your absence, as depriving me of a very con
siderable assistance in my studies ; but you are

1783. THE REV. JOHN ROGET. 281
now to render me a more important assiftance.
I am soon to enter on a career which pcsibly
(though I grant not very probably) may place
me in important and critical situations, which will
certainly give me partial and selfish interests, in
compatible with the good of others, and which will
throw me amidst mankind, and condemn me to
hear the profession of dishonourable sentiments
without opposing them, and to be a near spectator
of selfish and degrading conduct without discover
ing any detestation of it. It will in part depend
on you to save me from the contagion of such ex
amples ; for though my heart still recoils from
them with an antipathy that seems quite insur
mountable, I have I know not what kind of terror,
which I cannot overcome, of the force of habit, of
perpetual temptations, of being familiarized with a
contempt for virtue, and, above all, of an habitual
attachment to the miserable gold which one earns.
The best shield against these is, I am convinced,
the society and conversation of such a friend as
yourself, whom one may consider as the pledge and
deposit of all the sacred engagements which one
has taken with God, one's self, and one's fellow-
creatures. This very letter is some proof of what
I say, for to whom should I venture to. write thus
but to yourself?
Adieu ! Be assured of the sincere and invariable
affection of your warmest friend and brother,
Saml. Romilly.

282 LETTERS TO June,

Letter XXXI.
My dear Sister, London, June 10. 1783.
I should not at this moment sit down to
write to you, if I thought it would add to your
misfortunes1 to hear how much I share them ; but,
judging of you by myself, I do not fear increasing
your grief. It were to no purpose not to speak
of our affliction ; it cannot but be always before
us, nor can we wish it were not. What a loss I
suffer, and how ill I am able to bear it, you know
but too well. You know whether I have an af
fectionate heart ; you know whether Roget did not,
with yourself, engross almost all that affection. The
anxiety for the health of our dearest friend, of
which I never could divest myself, and the appre
hension of the worst that could happen, which
never quitted me when I had the least knowledge
of his being ill, had made me suppose it impossi
ble that any news from Lausanne could ever have
surprised, how much soever it must afflict me.
That news, however, which I had often formerly
expected, and endeavoured to prepare myself to
meet, came upon me at last the most unexpectedly.
I had heard indeed of your last letter, but I had
•not seen it, and the most alarming circumstances
in it were concealed from me.
Great as our loss is, my dear Kitty, (and I
presume to place my loss nearly on a level with
yours, when I reflect that I have lost the best
and dearest friend I ever had, a better and a
i The death of Mr. Roget, which took place on the 23d May.

1783. MRS. ROGET. 283
dearer than I ever shall have again,) still are we
not without reason to be consoled, when we re
flect that this great misfortune is ours alone, and
reaches not our dear friend. It is we who are
deprived of the society and friendship of the ten
derest, the most amiable, the most virtuous of
men ; but our friend is happy, which in this life
he never could have been ; he was too good, too
tender, too affectionate, for this life. It could
not but be a source of misery to him as long as
there were men in it who were unjust, and others
who were unfortunate. Dissolution of life is not,
in truth, a misfortune to any man who has lived
well; to him it must have been less so than to
any man I ever knew, for it was always present to
his mind, and his whole life was a preparation for
it. He is now assuredly rewarded for his virtues
by that God in whom he has always firmly be
lieved, and he now partakes of that immortality
for which he showed, by the whole tenor of his
life, that he knew he was created. But I feel
that, however little reason there may be for our
tears, it is hardly in our power to prevent them ;
and if we considered ourselves alone, what could
we do better than indulge our sorrows to the
utmost, and return, by our tears, the sentiments'
of affection which he always did and still does
entertain for us ? but it is in our power to make
a better return, and it is our duty to do it. It is
the duty of both of us to guard, to instruct, and
protect the children which he has bequeathed to
us ; those dear children who have not lost, but
only changed their father. We know how much

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

1783. MRS. ROGET.

285

I feel myself to love, to esteem, and respect you.
That God may protect you under your misfor
tunes is the constant prayer of your most affec
tionate brother, Saml. Romilly.

LETTER XXXII.
My dear Sister, London, June 13. 1783.
I could wish to be constantly with you,
and, since that is impossible, at least to write to
you every day ; but the post, unfortunately, goes
from hence but twice a week. What a consoling
reflection must it be to you to think how much
your tenderness alleviated the misfortunes of our
dear friend! without you, how unhappy must have
been the last years of his life ! It is a comfort even
to me to reflect, that if he had never known me,
he would have been less happy than he was.
Though his friendship has been to me a source of
infinite uneasiness and affliction, I thank God that
I was blessed with it; his life was happier, and
mine, I am sure, will be better for it. I do not
seek to divert my attention from the cause of my
sorrows. I know that to be a resource as vain and
ineffectual as it is unworthy. I rather consider
what is the amount of my loss, and examine what
is real and what imaginary in the terrors of death.
I know that my dear brother's virtues had made
him invulnerable to its sting. I know that he is
immortal, I know that he still lives ; and I carry
the idea so far as to read over all his former ietters.
I think with myself he is still only in a foreign

286 LETTERS TO June,
country, — we shall soon meet again ; not so soon,
indeed, as we intended ; but what can be late that
is circumscribed by the limits of life, and what can
be distant that lies no farther than the grave ? I
reflect that my dear brother is now more present
with me than ever, that he looks down upon me
from Heaven, is the witness of all my actions,
knows all that passes in my mind, and sees the
sincerity of my affection for him : that he will still
be the guardian and director of my conduct ; and
that whenever I am doubtful how to act, I will
consider how he would have acted in such a situ
ation, and I shall then be certain always to deter
mine for what is just and virtuous. It is a plea
sure to me to reflect that by this means his will be
the merit of the laudable actions which I may
perform ; and that perhaps it will be part of
those joys which are to reward his good works,
to contemplate their extensive effects, and to see
the good fruits of the virtues which his friend
ship has inspired me with, and to behold his
own virtues reviving again in his children, by the
happy effects of that wise and j udicious education
which he had begun, and which he has taught you
how to perfect. I do not exhort you, my dear
Sister, to dismiss all sad reflections, but rather to
turn them to another object. To think of your
friends in this country, to think how your return
among them will revive and cheer them, Think
of our dear parents, and comfort them in their old
age. Think of your sweet children, and bring
them amongst protectors who are anxious to de
vote themselves to their care and service. When,

1783. MRS. ROGET. 287
my dear Kitty, will you set out upon your journey
hither ? To perform it alone must be painful ; I will
come to bear you company. I will be with you
by the end of July, or sooner if you desire it,
though it would be inconvenient to me. All
the months of August, September, and October,
shall be devoted wholly to your service. If you
choose, we will return to London immediately ; or
if you prefer it, I will stay with you for some
time at Lausanne or any other place, till the hot
test weather has passed over. Above all things,
let me entreat you to be careful of your health,
think of your children, and remember that at their
age the loss of a mother is much greater than
of a father ; think what endearing duties you
have to discharge. We shall certainly join our
dear friend again soon, (for what are a few years,
what is a whole life compared to that eternity
which we shall pass with him ?) but let us endea
vour, first, to have done all that we know will
afford him pleasure, and not to leave unperformed
those offices for which he would chiefly have
desired to live. In the midst of our affliction, and
under the hard lot which has befallen us, we will
find out serious, nay melancholy pleasures, which
might be envied by those who seem more the fa
vourites of fortune. Once more let me entreat
you to be careful of your health, and not to cause
another affliction to your dearest friends, greater
than they will be able to bear, — at least, if I may
judge of their hearts by that of your most affec
tionate brother,
Saml. Romilly.

288 LETTERS FROM Sept.

LETTERS FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU
AND OTHERS.

1783—1787.
LETTER XXXIII.
FROM MR. BAYNES. '

My good Friend, Paris, September, 1783.
Since you left me, I have not known what
in the world to do with myself. The first morning,
1 The following account of Mr. Baynes is extracted from a letter of
Dr. Parr, dated March 2. 1820. See ante, p. 68.
" John Baynes was born at Skipton, in Yorkshire, where his father
was a prosperous attorney. He was a member of Trinity College ; and,
at a time of life unusually early, he gained the highest, or nearly the
highest honours, mathematical and classical. He had great ardour of
mind, great singleness of heart, great variety of research. He was an
antiquary as well as a scholar. He was for a time suspected of having
written the celebrated Epistle to Sir William Chambers. : he disclaimed
the authorship, but confessed that he superintended the press. H'e
had a very fine commanding person, the tones of his voice were im
pressive, his dress was at all times becoming, his manners were un
affected, and yet dignified. He was now and then fond of paradoxes,
and would defend them resolutely, when they had all the properties of
improbability and even absurdity. He was a steady advocate for civil
and religious liberty.
" John Baynes was perhaps the most intimate friend Sir S. Romilly
had in early life ; and in consequence of their connexion, my own
acquaintance at Warwick with Sir Samuel began at some assizes or
sessions. Sir Samuel spoke of him with affection and admiration ; and
doubtless, if he had lived, he would have been a bright luminary in the
literature and politics of England. He had, not been called to the bar,
but practised at Gray's Inn, I believe, as a. conveyancer. He died, to
my sorrow, of a fever ; and his resignation at the approach of death
was worthy of his intellectual, moral, and religious excellences. I
wrote his epitaph in Latin."

1783. MIRABEAU, ETC. 289
I verily believe I should have been tempted to
throw myself into the Seine, had I not, luckily,
met with an acquaintance, who was at the Hotel
d'Espagne in the next street, at the Cafe Conti.
[ called on M. Romilly ', and was very sorry to find
Made. Romilly was very ill ; so I did not stay, but
promised to call the next day, which I did, and
saw her much better, but he was not at home.
The next morning I called at Passy, but Dr.
Franklin was gone to Paris. I set off for Pontoise,
and arrived there on Wednesday. I was much
taken with the look of the place ; the bridge, the
river Oise, the rising ground on which it stands,
made me very much in love with it ; — began a copy
of verses on the place. The next day I went to
see the convents, and to make inquiries about a
preceptor, but the devil a preceptor could I find ;
did not like Pontoise quite so well. The third day,
not meeting with any better success, I thought
Pontoise a most horrible place indeed ; — burnt
my verses, and set off for Paris again, where I now
am chez M. Villa.
I went this morning to the Chambre du Parle
ment, where I understood rather more than I had
done before. The subject pf the cause was a suit
between the sheriffs of a neighbouring town and
the bakers, for enhancing the price of bread. But
(would you believe it ? ) the " avocats du Parlement
de Paris " are as arrant squabblers as any of our
King's Bench practitioners. I was not a little
diverted with the dispute between a little dapper
avocat with his own hair, and a great tall man in an
1 See ante, p. 64.
VOL. I. U

290 LETTERS FROM Sept.
enormous wig, both concerned in this cause : the
tall man seemed to rely much on the prosecution
being at the suit de la ville ; " Ah," said the other,
" on sait fort bien ce que c'est que la ville ; ce n'est
que deux ou trois officiers de la ville."
I have half read through M. Henault.1 It is
certainly a very useful book, and by a learned man ;
but he has two faults : 1. His principles of tole
ration in religion, and his ideas of government, are
both very bad. 2. He is perpetually making
very foolish and childish observations, qui ne
prouvent rien, as he says himself. Pray tell me if
you are not ofthe same opinion. His observations
on the progress of customs, laws, manners, &c. are
excellent, and show him to have been a great anti
quarian in that particular line.
I saw St. Denis' church, a fine light building
(I speak of the inside), the roof unornamented,
the windows wonderfully rich and (ut ita dicam)
frequent, the church being surrounded with win
dows which have hardly any space between them.
The ornaments on the gate are very curious, being
as old as Charlemagne. The lightness of the
columns and windows pleased me much. This
morning I went to see the Duchess of La Valliere
at the Carmelites. Oh ! I had almost forgot to tell
you that, on Tuesday, I went to see the Due de
la Villiere's library, which, for the number of rare
and fine books, is well worth the trouble. I never
saw such a magnificent collection for an individual;
there are some volumes of drawings and paintings
which I should think invaluable, immense numbers
1 Probably Abrege Chronologique de PHistoire de France.

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC.

291

of ancient romances, printed and MSS., and a fine
collection of the first printed books, all in excellent
condition. Pray tell me if you have already written to Pon
toise. Write immediately ; be full, explicit, nay,'
even be tedious ; have no mercy on me.
Yours ever sincerely, J.B.

Letter XXXIV.
FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.'
Mon Ami, [Londres,] Ce Jeudi [17851.
Je ne voulois plus vous ecrire que je
n'eusse une reponse de vous qui me dit, que ce
n'est pas par simple tolerance que vous souffrez
mon amitie et mes bavardages. L'extrait ci-joint
d'une lettre de Franklin me force a un billet
d'envoi. J'ai fait toutes les demarches necessaires
chez Johnson, pour remplir ses vceux de ce cote :
du votre, je vous demande un avertissement bien
Letter XXXIV. London, Thursday, 1785.
I had resolved, my dear friend, not to write to you again until I
had had an answer from you, telling me that you did something more than
merely tolerate my friendship and my idle talk ; but the enclosed letter
from Franklin obliges me to send to you. I have taken all the necessary
steps with Johnson to fulfil his wishes on that side. From you I hope
to receive a good introduction, in accordance with the very sensible

' Mr. Romilly became acquainted with Mirabeau in 1 784. See
ante, p. 78. This letter refers to the work on The Order of Cincinnatus,
by Mirabeau, which Mr. Romilly was translating. (See ante, p. 79.)
The translation was published by J.Johnson, St. Paul's Churchyard,
in 1785.
U 2

292 LETTERS FROM 1785.
' fait dans le sens tres-sage ou il l'en visage, et je
vous prie d'y dire un mot de l'ouvrage, si vous
trouvez que cela convienne. Adieu, mon ami,
car je ne veux pas rompre mon vceu ; et, d'ail-
leurs, je suis tres-occup6, soit par Madame de * * *,
a, qui il faut force instructions, soit par l'arrange-
ment et le triage de mes papier s, que je fais avec
autant d'exactitude que si j'allois me noyer. Vous
trouverez ces deux rapprochemens de Madame de
* * * et de la Tamise tres- disparates ; et cela vous
rappellera peut-etre ce temple, consacre a Venus et
aux Graces, dont parle Plutarque, sur le frontispice
duquel etoient ecrits ces mots, " II faut mourir ; "
et cela vaut bien le " libertas " de la prison de
Venise. Quoiqu'il en soit, soyez tranquille, mon
ami ; je ne me noyerai pas avant de vous avoir
embrasse encore une fois. Peut-etre, conviendroit-
il a un homme d'un aussi grand et beau talent que
Vous, qui daigne traduire, de traiter, dans un dis-
cours preliminaire, le beau sujet de l'influence du
bonheur de l'Amerique sur le reste du monde, ce
view of the subject taken by him ; and I beg of you to insert in it a
word or two about the work itself, if you think it right to do so.
Farewell, my friend, for I will not break my vow ; and, besides, I am
much engaged, partly with Madc. de * * *, who requires a good deal
of instruction, and partly with the arranging and selecting of my papers,
which I am doing with as much care as if I were going to drown my
self. You will think the ideas of Made. de * * * and the Thames very
incongruous : and this will perhaps remind you of that temple, sacred
to Venus and the Graces, of which Plutarch speaks, upon the front of
which were these words, " We must die ;" a motto, which is at least as
good as the "Libertas" of the prison of Venice. Be that as it may,
do not be alarmed, my friend, I shall not drown myself before 1 have
shaken hands with you once more. Perhaps it might suit a man of
talents as great and noble as yours, who condescends to translate, to
treat in a preliminary discourse that noble %ubject of the influence of
the happiness of America upon the rest of the world, which would

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC.

293

qui vous feroit passer aupres de la localiU de Maty.1
Quoiqu'il en soit, envoyez-nous un averti sement,
si non mieux.

Letter XXXV.
FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.
Mon Cher Romilly, [Londres, ce 1. Mars, 1785.]
Vous me quittez aujourd'hui; et 1'amie
qui fait le bonheur de ma vie me quitte demain ;
ce concours de circonstances penibles m'a fait
sentir encore mieux combien je vous aime tous
deux, et combien I'habitude est un lien etroit pour
les bons cceurs.
" Quel siecle jusqu'au soir ; il mesure des yeux
Le tour que le soleil doit faire dans les cieux :
II faut que sur ces monts ce grand astre renaisse,
S'eleve lentement et lentement s'abaisse."

place you near the locality of Maty. At all events, send us an intro
duction, if nothing better. Letter XXXV.
My dear Romilly, London, March I. 1785.
You leave me to-day, and she who makes the happiness of my
life leaves me to-morrow ; this concurrence of painful circumstances
makes me feel still more forcibly how much I am attached to you both,
and how closely habit binds together affectionate hearts.
" Quel siecle jusqu'au soir ; il mesure des yeux
Le tour que le soleil doit faire dans les oieux :
II faut que sur ces monts ce grand astre renaisse,
S'eleVe lentement et lentement s'abaisse."

1 Henry Maty, the editor of a monthly Review, the first number of
which appeared in February, 1782.
u 3

294 LETTERS FROM March,
C'est un tres-mauvais poete qui a fait ces quatre
beaux vers, et la memoire de l'amie me les rap-
pelle au moment du veuvage. Eh ! mon Dieu !
nous vivons un jour : faut-il mutiler cette frele
journee par des privations de notre choix? des
privations volontaires ? Et quels sont done ces
tristes interets d'invention humaine pour lesquels
cet etre, si passager, malheureux par lui, par les
choses, par ses semblables, cet etre qu'on appelle
homme, aggrave encore ses peines et diminue ses
jouissances ? En verite cette pensee abat quelque-
fois mon ame, au point de m'oter toute faculte
d'ecrire et de m'occuper.
Efut heureux ! disois-je un jour en parlant de
Fontenelle. Ce mot, qui devroit retentir avec tant
de joie dans les ames honnetes, a peine on ose le
prononcer : la haine et l'envie ont toujours re-
proche son bonheur a Fontenelle ; elles lui ont
fait un crime de n'avoir point attire sur lui la per
secution des prejuges de son siecle, de n'avoir
indique qu'a demi la verite qu'il voyoit toute
These four lines were written by a very bad poet, and the recollection
of my friend brings them to my mind at the moment of separation.
Alas ! we live but for a day ! Shall we then curtail this one precarious
day by privations of our own choice — by voluntary privations? And
what, after all, are those pitiful objects of human invention, for the
sake of which this short lived being, unhappy in himself, unhappy by
his fellow-creatures and in the circumstances which surround him, this
being, called Man, aggravates his sorrows and lessens his enjoyments ?
Indeed, this reflection at times so depresses my spirits, that it deprives
me of all power of writing and of application.
" He was happy," said I, one day, in speaking of Fontenelle. These
words, which ought to find a joyful echo in every good breast, alas !
one hardly ventures to utter them.- Hatred and envy have ever made
Fontenelle's happiness a cause of reproach to him. They made it a
crime in him that he did not draw down upon himself persecution from
the prejudices of his age ; that he showed to others only half of those

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 295
entiere; de ne lui avoir ore les voiles qui la ca-
choient que pour lui en donner d'autres qui la
derobent; d'avoir montre le genie tremblant de
vant les prejug6s qui devoient trembler devant lui.
Quelle passion que 1'envie! elle poursuit sans
relache l'homme de genie, pour lui rendre tous
les tourmens qu'elle en recoit. S'il fait entendre
des plaintes, elle pretend qu'il s'avilit par la ven
geance ; s'il se tait, elle assure qu'il est insensible
a l'injure; si son ame imperieuse attaque a de-
couvert les erreurs populaires, elle le peint comme
un esprit seditieux, pour qui rien n'est sacre ; si
sa sagesse adoucit la verite pour ne pas l'exposer
aux outrages de la multitude, ellel'accuse de 1' avoir
etouffee dans sa pensee, d'avoir sacrifie les droits
eternels du genre humain a quelques jours de
repos. Sans doute, il faut bien admirer ces ames
fortes et intrepides qui annoncent la verite avec
l'eclat et la majeste qu'elle a prise dans leur genie,
et, apres la gloire de favour decouverte, veulent

truths of which he saw the whole ; that he drew aside one veil from
the image of truth, only to throw over it another ; that he exhibited
Genius trembling before Prejudice, which ought to have trembled
before him. What a passion is envy ! without relaxation she pursues
the man of genius, throwing back upon him all the torment she suffers
at his hands. If he utter a complaint, she says that he is lowering
himself by retaliation; if he be silent, his silence is insensibility
to insult; if his uncompromising spirit lead him to make popular
error the object of his undisguised attack, she paints him as a fac
tious spirit, with whom nothing is sacred ; if his prudence soften
truth, in order that it may not be exposed to the outrage of the
multitude, she accuses him of having stifled it in its birth and of
having sacrificed the eternal rights of mankind to a few days of
repose. Doubtless we must admire those vigorous and intrepid
spirits who proclaim truth in all the splendour and dignity with which
their own genius has clothed her; and who, not satisfied with the
u 4

296 LETTERS FROM March,
obtenir encore celle de souffrir, et s'il le faut, de
mourir pour elle. Je respecterai Ferielon ecrivant
le Te'lemaque dans la cour de Louis XIV. et
Thomas Morus publiant I' Utopie dans le palais de
Henri VIII. Ces ames sublimes consacrent les
siecles qui se sont deshonores en les persecutant.
Mais en versant des larmes d'attendrissement et
d'admiration sur ces devouemens h6ro'iques, on
regrette que l'esprit humain n'en ait pas retire
d'assez grands avantages. Mon ami, j'en viens
a croire que l'on ne fait point triompher la verite
en s'immolant pour elle. La persecution qui etend
les progres de l'erreur, arrete ceux de la raison,
et les philosophes ne se multiplient point, comme
les fanatiques, dans l'exil, dans les prisons, et sous
la hache des bourreaux. Peut-etre il y a eu des
pays et des siecles ou la verite la plus hardie, pre
sentee tout a coup a un peuple souverain, per-
suadee a une multitude immense par l'ascendant
de la parole, pou voit faire une revolution aussitot
qu'elle etoit entendue ; et il etoit beau de s'immoler
glory of discovering her, aspire to that of suffering, and, if need be,
of dying for her. I shall always respect Fenelon writing Telemachus
in the court of Louis XIV., and Sir Thomas More publishing the
Utopia in the palace of Henry VIII. These noble spirits hallow the
age, which dishonoured itself by persecuting them. But while one
sheds tears of pity and admiration at the thought of such heroical
self-devotion, one regrets that the human mind should not have bene
fited by them as it ought. I come, my friend, to the conclusion, that
to sacrifice one's self for truth is not the way to ensure its triumph.
Persecution, which spreads the progress of error, arrests that of reason ;
and philosophers do riot, like fanatics, multiply in exile, in prison, and
under the axe of the executioner. Perhaps there may have been a
country and an age in which the boldest truth, announced on a sudden
to a sovereign people, forced upon the attention of an immense multi
tude by all the powers of eloquence, might have given birth to a revo
lution at the very moment of its utterance ; and it were noble to sacri-

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 297
a cette esperance. Parmi nous, ce n'est qu'avec le
temps que la verite peut vaincre les prejuges ; il
faut qu'elle regne non avec l'eclat d'une nouvelle
creation du genie, mais avec cette force invisible
de la raison general e, qui a renverse les erreurs,
sans qu'on ait entendu le bruit de leur chute.
Voila, mon cher Romilly, sous quels rapports ce
Fontenelle, que j'ai si longtems meprise, peut-etre
parceque c'est de tous les hommes d'esprit celui
dont la nature m'a fait le plus dissemblable ; voila
sous quels rapports Fontenelle me semble tres-
remarquable. Fontenelle paroit voir dans la verite
cette statue antique d'lsis, couverte de plusieurs
voiles. II croit que chaque siecle doit en lever
un, et soulever seulement un autre pour le siecle
suivant : il connoit les hommes et il les craint,
non seulement parcequ'ils peuvent faire beaucoup
de mal, mais parcequ'il est tres-difficile de leur
faire du bien ; et il en a trouve les moyens dans
un art qui n'auroit jamais ete, sans doute, celui

fice one's self to such a hope as this. But in our days, time only can
give to truth the victory over prejudice ; with us the reign of truth is
not the dazzling sway of some new creation of genius, but it is the im
perceptible influence of general intelligence, by which error is overthrown
without the sound of its fall being heard.
This is the point of view, my dear Romilly, in which this Fon
tenelle, whom I have so long despised, only perhaps ' because of all
men of genius he is the one to whom nature has made me the most
unlike, appears to me to be so remarkable. Truth seems in his
eyes to be like that ancient statue of Isis, which was covered with
many veils. He thinks that every age should remove one veil, and
only raise the next for the age which is to follow. He knows
men, and he fears them, not only because they are capable of do
ing much harm, but be'cause it is very difficult to do them any good :
and he has found the means of doing them good by the practice of
an art which would doubtless never have been the expedient of a more

298 LETTERS FROM March,
d'un caractere plus energique et plus impetueux,
mais qui a fait servir sa timidite meme et sa dis
cretion a un grand progres de l'esprit philoso-
phique. Tantot il se courbe un instant devant
une erreur du siecle, et se releve de ce respect
contraint en frappant en sa presence une erreur
toute semblable qui a trompe toute l'antiquite.
D'autrefois il met a cote d'elle une verite qu'il
semble lui sacrifier et lui soumettre, mais qui est
sure de triompher, pourvu qu'on l'y laisse, meme
a ce prix. Souvent il etale les prejuges avec toutes
leurs pretentions, et leur accorde meme ce qu'ils
refusent, pour ne pas paroitre trop absurdes.
Dans les occasions ou ils attendent un hommage,
il passe en silence,. et ce silence est toujours place
dans l'endroit ou on l'entend le mieux et ou il
offense le moins ; quelquefois, au con traire, il se
presse de paroitre sans necessite soumis et obeis-
sant, et montre par la des tyrans injustes etsoup-
9onneux dont il faut se defier. En general, au lieu

energetic and impetuous character, but which in him has made even
timidity and discretion subservient to the progress of the spirit of
philosophy. At one time he bows down for a moment before an error
of his own age, and then raising himself from this constrained attitude
of respect, in its very presence he crushes an exactly similar error
which has deluded all antiquity. At another time, he places by the
side of error a truth which he appears to sacrifice and subject to her,
but which is sure to be triumphant, provided only she be allowed to
remain there, in spite of all risks. Often he parades prejudices in all
their pretensions, and even grants them that which, from the fear of
appearing too absurd, they do not claim. At those times, when
homage is expected from him, he is silent : and this silence always oc
curs at a place where it will best be understood, and give least
offence. Sometimes, on the other hand, he goes out of his way to ap
pear unnecessarily submissive and obsequious, and by so doing shows
that there are unjust and suspicious tyrants whom one must distrust.

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 299
d'attaquer les erreurs les unes apres les autres, il
s'attache a devoiler, a tarir dans l'esprit humain
les sources d'ou elles naissent ; il eclaire et fortifie
la raison qui doit les renverser toutes, et par la
leur suscite un ennemi eternal : ainsi il les combat
par ses respects, les detruit par ses hommages, les
perce de toutes parts de traits dont elles n'ont pas
le droit de se plaindre, et quoiqu'elles ayent tou-
jours l'oeil sur lui, comme sur l'ennemi le plus dan-
gereux, il vit, il meurt en paix au milieu d'elles.
N'en deplaise a ma vehemence, mon cher ami,
cette methode pourroit bien etre la meilleure, et
n'etre pas moins estimable que la mienne, et cer-
tainement elle vaut mieux pour la tranquillite
individuelle ; mais comme elle n'est pas et ne sera
jamais a mon usage, je commence a, ressentir un
grand penchant pour la paresse, meme celle de la
pensee ; et surtout des regrets tres-vifs pour le
temps que me consument le respect humain,
1' opinion phantastique des autres .hommes, et les
conventions sociales.
In general, instead of attacking errors one by one, he devotes himself to
the task of disclosing and drying up in the human mind the sources
whence they spring. He aims at giving new light and strength to that
human reason which is destined to be the destroyer of them all, and by
this raises up against them an everlasting enemy. Thus he attacks them
by treating them with respect, he destroys them by doing them reverence
he pierces them on every side with shafts of which they have no right to
complain; and although they have always their eyeupon him, as upon their
most dangerous enemy, he lives, he dies, in peace in the midst of them.
Without any disparagement to my own impetuosity, this method may,
very possibly, my dear friend, be the best, and no less entitled to respect
than mine, and, as far as personal ease is concerned, undoubtedly it is
the best ; but as it does not and never will suit my character, I begin to
feel a great inclination for idleness, even that of mind, and above all a
very lively regret for the time which human observances, the fantastical
opinions of other men, and the conventions of society make me waste.

300 LETTERS FROM March,
Mais voila beaucoup de bavardage pour vos
yeux et peut-etre pour votre esprit. Excusez-moi,
mon cher Romilly ; j'ai besoin de distractions, et
j'en cherche au sein de votre amitie, parcequ'elle
m'est bien douce et bien chere. Vale, et me ama.
Ce Mardi.

Letter XXXVI.
FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.
Londres, ce Vendredi, 4 Mars, 1785.
Graces a l'indicible etourderie de Baynes,
dont je n'ai jamais vu l'egal dans un homme
aussi sage et aussi studieux, vous avez a. peine ma
premiere lettre, mon bon ami, ou vous ne l'avez
pas, et je suis cependant tres-tente de vous en
ecrire une autre ; car l'absence de Madame de * * *
me laisse un mal-etre auquel je ne puis echapper.
Ob, combien les ames sensibles eprouvent les
besoins du cceur plus que les autres necessites de

But your eyes, if not your head, will have had enough of this gar
rulity. Excuse it, my dear Romilly ; I want something to divert my
thoughts, and I seek for it in the bosom of your friendship, because it
is very pleasing and very dear to me. Vale, et vie ama.
Tuesday. Letter XXXVI. London, Friday, March 4. 1785.
Thanks to the unspeakable thoughtlessness of Baynes, which I
never before saw equalled in so steady and studious a man, you have
hardly got my first letter, my good friend, or you have it not, and yet I
am much tempted to write you another ; for Madame de * * *'s absence
leaves me in a state of wretchedness which I cannot get rid of. Oh !
how much does an affectionate disposition feel the yearnings of the

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 301
la vie ! La mienne est une suite d'experiences sur
les infirmites du cceur humain; et je voudrois
bien trouver le terme ou il ne peut plus souffrir,
afin d'etre sur du moins une fois d'avoir epuise ma
destinee. J'aurois ete vous chercher si vous eussiez ete ici.
J'ai ete voir Baynes; mais cet homme excellent
d'ailleurs analyse toujours, et moi j'ai besoin d'etre
senti. Diriez-vous ou,presse de la necessite de m'at-
tendrir et d'etre triste, j'ai ete ? Dans les hopitaux ;
et en verite je n'en ai pas ete content, quoique
Elliot m'ait montre les meilleurs comme les plus
mauvais. J'aurois mille choses a dire ; mais je
ne veux vous parler que d'une, qui, menant a, des .
idees generales, vous fera mieux supporter mon
bavardage. Tous les hopitaux, tous les lieux ou l'on re-
cueille les infirmes, les enfans trouves, les mendians,
les fols, &c. &c. ; toutes ces maisons sont etablies
dans les villes. Pourquoi ne les transporte-t-on pas
des villes, qu'elles infectent, et qui les infectent,

heart more than all the other wants of life ! Mine is a succession of
experiments on the infirmities of the human heart, and I would gladly
find the period when it may cease to suffer, that I might, for once at
least, feel sure of having exhausted my destiny.
I should have looked for you, had you been here. I went to see
Baynes ; but that man, however excellent in other respects, is always
analysing, and I want sympathy. Would you guess whither, impelled by
the desire of indulging in my feelings of emotion and sadness, I went ?
To the hospitals ; and, indeed, I was not pleased with them, though
%Elliot showed me the best as well as the worst. I have a thousand
things to say, but I will keep to one, which, as it leads to general prin
ciples, will better enable you to bear with my tediousness.
All hospitals, all institutions for the reception of the infirm of
foundlings, beggars, lunatics, &c. &c. are established within towns.
Why are they not removed from towns which they infect, and which

302 LETTERS FROM March,
dans les campagnes, et surtout dans les campagnes
les plus eloignees, dans les deserts; car tous les
royaumes, et meme l'Angleterre, ont des deserts ?
1°. Les enfans, plus sensibles a toutes les impres
sions de l'air, prennent et communiquent les mala
dies contagieuses avec une extreme facilite ; et
chez eux, dans ces petits corps spongieux, pour
ainsi dire, toutes les maladies sont contagieuses.
Dans les hospices des villes, ou on les amoncele
les uns sur les autres, il y a une contagion fixee
parmi eux, et l'on peut dire qu'ils vivent toujours
avec une maladie mortelle. Dans les campagnes,
on les placeroit a d'assez grandes distances pour
couper aisement toutes les routes de contagion a
leurs maladies. De cela seul resulteroit trois grands
biens : on en conserveroit infiniment davantage;
l'air des villes seroit delivre d'un grand foyer de
corruption ; et l'entretien de ces maisons seroit
soulage des frais de tous les remedes qu'on fait
prendre a ces enfans continuellement malades.
2°. N'est-il pas etrange que ce soit dans les villes

infect them, to the country, and indeed to the most distant parts of
the country, to deserts ; for all kingdoms, even England, have deserts ?
1°. Children, who are more susceptible to influence from the atmo
sphere, take and give contagious disorders with extreme facility, and
with them, in their little spongy bodies, so to speak, all diseases are
contagious. In town-hospitals, where they are huddled one upon
another, contagion is settled amongst them ; and it may almost be said
that they live with a mortal disease. In the country they would be
placed at distances from each other, sufficient to cut off with ease all
access to contagion. From this alone would result three great advan
tages: the lives of many more would be preserved; the air of towns"
would be freed from a great hot-bed of corruption ; and the funds of the
establishment would be relieved from the expense of all those remedies
which must be given to these children who are constantly ill.
2°. Is it not strange that it should be in towns, where luxury en-

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC.

303

ou le luxe encherit tout, ou l'opulence meme et
l'industrie la plus active ont tant de peine a vivre,
qu'on place des maisons qui doivent subsister de
la charite du gouvernement oude la nation? Qu'on
les transporte dans les campagnes, ou tout est a
meilleur marche, leur entretien coutera un tiers,
une moitie, deux tiers de moins, suivant les lieux,
et ce qu'elles consommeront sera une source de
fecondite pour ces memes campagnes.
3°. Ici meme, et peut-etre autant ici que par-
tout ailleurs, les employes a la regie de ces
maisons depouillent le pauvre des deniers donnes
par la charite publique, et s'enrichissent en dero-
bant le pain a la faim devorante, en volant a 1' enfant
qui se meurt le remede qui devait lui sauver la vie
. . . . Le brigand couvre souvent la nudite du
pauvre ; le plus feroce assassin soutient l'homme
qui tombe en defaillance, et dans ces administra
tions  C'est le crime qui accuse a la fois,
qui outrage et qui revoke le plus l'humanite. II
hances the price of every thing, where even opulence and the most active
industry find it so difficult to live, that these establishments, which
must subsist on the charity of government or of the people, should be
placed ? Let them be removed to the country, where every thing is
cheaper, the cost of maintaining them will, according to the situation, be
one third, one half, two thirds less, and what they consume will be a
source of prosperity to the neighbouring country.
3°. Even here, and perhaps as much here as elsewhere, the officers
of these establishments strip the poor of the pittance given by public
charity, and enrich themselves in pilfering bread from those who are
famishing with hunger, and in robbing from the dying child the reme
dies which were intended to save its life. .... The highwayman
often covers the nakedness of the poor, the most ferocious assassin
supports the fainting man, and in these establishments .... It is the
crime which at once accuses, outrages, and most revolts humanity.

304 . LETTERS FROM March,
ne peut etre commis que dans les lieux ou les plus
grands exces sont devenus des besoins, ou les pas
sions sans cesse irritees et toujours promp tement
satisfaites, font passer continuellement les ames du
desire, de la fureur des desirs, a cet assoupisse-
ment des voluptes et de la mollesse, dans lequel
on n'a pas la force d'avoir un sentiment ; ou l'on
est cruel et barbare par l'impuissance de recevoir
les douces emotions de la pitie. II ne peut etre
commis que dans les lieux ou les objets de luxe
vous cachent, pour ainsi dire, la nature ; ou la
foule vous derobe a chaque instant a vous-meme ;
ou le bruit des plaisirs etouffe et fait taire la voix
interieure de 1'a.me et de la conscience ; ou,
vivant continuellement dans des spectacles qui
ne sont qu'illusion, on finit par oublier qu'on est
homme et qu'on vit avec des hommes. Un tel
crime ne peut etre commis que dans les villes a
grand luxe. Dans les campagnes, ou l'on ne sent
guere que les besoins de la nature, ou les passions
sont moins seductrices, et moins enivrantes, on ne

It can only be committed in places where the greatest excesses are
become necessities, where, from the constant excitement and prompt
gratification of the passions, the minds of men pass continually from
the delirium, the frenzy of desire, to that lethargic state of volup
tuousness and effeminacy, which deprives men of the power of feeling,
which makes them cruel and barbarous, from their inability to receive
the soft emotions of pity. It can only be committed in those places
where nature is in a manner concealed by objects of luxury, where
the crowd every moment draws you away from yourself, where the
sound of pleasure stifles and silences the inward voice of sympathy
and of conscience, where living constantly amidst sights which are but
an illusion, one ends by forgetting that one is a man, and that one lives
with men. Such a crime can only be committed in towns of great luxury.
In the country, where few desires but those of nature are felt, where
passions are less seductive and less intoxicating, one sees nothing one i§

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 305
voit rien qu'on soit tente d'acheter par un si grand
crime. Les administrateurs, restant continuelle
ment pres des enfans malheureux' confies a leurs
soins, entendroient mieux a la fois, dans le silence
des campagnes, et la voix de leur conscience et le
cri de l'infortune. Ils seroient pitoyables et bons
meme par interet personnel.
II se presente une objection, et elle est unique,
a ce que je crois". On peut dire que des maisons
eloignees des grandes villes, ou sont aussi les
grandes fortunes, ne seroient pas aussi bien placees
pour attirer sur elles les bienfaits de la charite ; en
les perdant de vue, la pitie s'affoibliroit peut-
etre ; elles ne s'enrichiroient plus des expiations du
crime, et des dons genereux de la vertu. Mais,
mon ami, je ne crois point que ce soient les mouve-
mens fugitifs et instantanes de la pitie qui attirent
des bienfaits sur ces maisons. Elles sont tres-peu
connues dans les grandes villes au milieu des-
quelles elles sont placees; elles y sont aussi cachees
qu'elles pourroient l'etre dans les campagnes ; c'est
tempted to purchase at the price of so great a crime. The officers of
the establishment remaining constantly with the unfortunate children
intrusted to their care, would, in the silence of the country, be more
alive both to the voice of their conscience and to the cry of misfortune.
They would become kind and compassionate even from self-interest.
One objection presents itself, and one only, as I believe. It may be
said that establishments at a distance from large towns where are also
the large fortunes, would not be so well placed tp attract the bene
ficence of charity ; in losing sight of them, compassion would di
minish, perhaps ; they would no longer be enriched by the expiations
of crime, and the generous gifts of virtue. But, my friend, 1 do not
believe that it is from momentary and fleeting ¦ emotions of pity that
these institutions derive their benefactions. They are very little known
in those large towns, in the midst of which they stand ; they are there as
much out of sight as they could be in the country; it is the matured
VOL. I. X

306 LETTERS FROM March,
le sentiment reflechi et constant de I'humanite qui
leur portent des presens, et ces deux sentimens
savent aller chercher loin les objetsde leur liberalite.
C'est communement par les dernieres volontes de
la vie, par les testamens qu'on leur laisse des biens,
et lapensee d'un homme qui dispose de sa fortune
pour les temps ou il ne sera plus, n'est- pas plus
eloignee des malheureux qui sont a cinquante lieues
de lui, que de ceux qui sont a ses "cotes. Les re
flexions, et les relations, et les lumieres, en re-
pandant au loin le sentiment de I'humanite, 1'ont
peut-etre affoibli, mais elles font singulierement
etendu. On pleure moins, on secourt davantage.
La pitie prompte et passionnee est la generosite des
siecles barbares ; la generosite refleehie et combinee
est la pitie des siecles eclaires. II ne faut done pas
croire que la source des charites particulieres et
publiques tarit dans les villes, si l'on en eloignoit les
hospices des enfans trouves ou des mendians ; elle
couleroit en refecondant dans sa route jusqu'aux
lieux eloignes ou l'on transporteroit ces maisons.

and the lasting feeling of humanity, which brings offerings to them, and
these two feelings travel far in search of objects for their liberality. It
is usually by the last dispositions of life, by wills, that property is
left to them; and the thoughts of a man who disposes of /his fortune
for the time when he shall be no more, are not farther removed from
the unhappy beings who are fifty, leagues off, than from those- who
are by his side. Reflection, intercourse, and information, in spreading
far the feelings of humanity, may perhaps have weakened, but have
singularly extended them. Fewer tears are shed ; more assistance given.
Quick and impassioned pity is the generosity of barbarous ages ; well
considered and combined generosity the pity of enlightened times. It
must not therefore be supposed that the source of public and private
charity would be dried up in towns, if hospitals for foundlings or beggars
were removed from them ; it would flow on fertilizing in its course to
the most distant spots in which these buildings might be placed. And

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 307
Et si tant d'avantages ne regardent que ces hos
pices memes, remarquez, mon ami, qu'il s'en pre
sente de bien plus considerables pour la nation
entiere. On s'est plaint de tous temps, et depuis
un demi siecle les plaintes ont singulierement re
double en Angleterre ce me semble comme en
France, de ce penchant aveugle et funeste qui
fait abandonner a tous les hommes. les campagnes
pour les villes, qui peuple les ateliers des arts et
les manufactures, des hommes qui manquent a la
culture des champs. L'etablissement des maisons
de charite dans les villes est tres-propre a entre-
tenir, a augmehter ce desordre. Les enfans qu'on
y nourrit ne peuvent etre eleves que pour les
metiers et pour les villes ; le travail sedentaire
des metiers tue les enfans, dont le premier besoin
est de courir, de sauter, et de s'ebattre. Et c'est
la surement une des causes de la mortalite effra-
yante etablie dans ces maisons. Si on les trans-
porte dans les campagnes, les enfans que l'etat y
nourrit seront nourris et eleves pour les campagnes.

if these numerous advantages concern the hospitals alone, observe
my friend, that much more important ones result to the whole nation.
Complaints have at all times been .made, and for half a century they
have wonderfully increased in England, as it seems to me, as well as
in France, against the blind and 'fatal inclination which induces all peo
ple to abandon the country for towns, which peoples the workshops of
art and manufacture with the men who are wanted for the cultivation
of the fields. Charitable establishments in towns tend much to maintain
and increase this evil. Children bred there can only be brought up
for trade and for town ; the sedentary employment of trades kills
children, whose first want is to run, to jump, and play about ; and this
is no doubt one of the causes of the frightful mortality in these hos
pitals. If removed into the country, these children, fed there at the ex
pense of the nation, will be fed and brought up for the country. Govern-
x 2

308 LETTERS FROM March,
Le gouvernement qui aura toujours dans ses
mains cette source de population, la repandra, la
distribuera a son gre sur les terres d'un royaume,
et tandis que les vices naturels de la societe en-
trainent les hommes des campagnes dans les villes,
les lumieres du gouvernement les feront refluer*
des villes dans les campagnes. Produits la plu
part par* les vices des cites, ces infortunes enfans
seront eleves du moins dans les bonnes mceurs et
dans la simplicite des champs; on se servira des
fruits meme de la corruption pour en arreter les
progres ; alors on en conservera davantage, et
loin de craindre on pourra desirer d'en voir aug-
menter le nombre. L'etat, qui fera pour eux et
par eux de grands etablissemens de culture, les
regardera du meme ceil que le laboureur regarde
ses nombreux enfans dans lesquels il voit sa
richesse. . . . Je ne sais, mon ami, si ce ne sont pas
la de bonnes speculations pour l'Angleterre, mais
je sais que ce seroit un des mes grands ressorts en
France. Adoptes par le gouvernement, le gou-
ment, which will always have this source of population at its command,
will, at pleasure, spread and distribute it throughout the kingdom ;
and thus, whilst the vices natural to society draw mankind from the
country to towns, the wisdom of government will make the tide flow
back from towns to the country. These unhappy children, the produce
for the most part of the vice of cities, will at least be brought up in the
good and simple morals of the country. The fruits of corruption will
themselves serve to arrest its progress ; a greater number will be pre
served, and this increase, far from being to be dreaded, will be to be
desired. The state, which will form, for them and by them, great agri
cultural establishments, will look upon them in the same light that the
labourer looks upon his numerous family, in whom he sees his wealth.
I know not, my friend, whether these may not be good speculations for
England, but I know that it would be one of my main resources in
France. The government which had adopted these children would have two

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC.

309

vernement auroit legitimement sur ces enfans deux
especes de pouvoir ; celui de souverain et celui
de pere ; il auroit un droit absolu et sur leur educa
tion et sur les fruits des travaux de toute leur
premiere jeunesse. Que d'experiences et que
'd'essais avantageux a ces enfans eux-memes et a
la nation entiere un gouvernement eclaire pourroit
faire dans la culture, dans la legislation, et dans
les mceurs de ces colonies naissantes ! Que d'an-
tiques usages on pourroit y detruirel Que de
vues qui paroissent des systemes y prendroient
l'autorite des faits ! Les prejuges, les erreurs, les
abus deviennent eternels en se transmettant des
peres aux enfans. Ces enfans sans peres se trou-
veroient adoptes par le gouvernement avec moins
d'erreurs et de prejuges. Au sein d'un empire
antique s'eleveroit, pour ainsi dire, un nouveau peu
ple. En verite, s'il est quelques moyens de peu-
pler et de feconder les landes de la Normandie et
de la Champagne, les deserts qui sont entre
Bayonne et Bordeaux, je crois qu'on les trouve-

legitimate kinds of control over them, that of sovereign and that of
father ; it would have an absolute right over both their education, and
the produce of the labour of their early youth. How many experi
ments, useful to the children themselves and to the whole nation, might
not an enlightened government make in the culture, the legislation,
and the morals of these infant colonies ! How many old customs
might they not abolish ! how many new ideas, which pass for theories
would there acquire the authority of facts ! Prejudices, errors, abuses
become eternal, by being transmitted from father to son. These father
less children would find themselves adopted by government with less -
of error and less of prejudice. From the bosom of an antiquated empire
there would arise, as it were, a new people. If, indeed, there are any
means of peopling and fertilizing the waste lands of Normandy and Cham
pagne, the deserts which are between Bayonne and Bordeaux, I believe
x 3

310 LETTERS FROM March,
roit dans ce nouvel emploi des enfans et des
hommes renfermes dans les hospices de la nation.
Voila un beau reve, n'est-ce pas, mon ami ? mais
vous le trouvez trop long peut-etre, et je finis.
Pardon, mais il est doux de rever.au bonheur des
hommes, tout- medians qu'ils sont, parceque ce
n'est pas la faute du plus grand nombre s'ils le
sont ; il est doux d'y rever surtout quand on est
tres-malheureux et on craint de se reveiller. Vale,
et me ama. • M.

Letter XXXVII.
FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.
[Londres, ce 5 Mars, 1785.]
Vous saurez, mon ami, que je suis devenu
si philosophe, si sage, si insouciant, qu'une conver
sion si prompte, si complete, est un vrai pheno-
mene. Vous saurez que j'ai entendu hier M.

these means would be found in turning to this new account children
and men now confined within the hospitals of the nation.
This is a fine dream, is it not, my friend ? but you find it too long,
perhaps, and I have done. Forgive me, but it is pleasing to make
dreams for the happiness of men, wicked though they be, for it is
not the fault of the greater number if they are so ; it is pleasing to in
dulge in such dreams, above all when one is very unhappy, and when
one fears to awake. Vale, et me ama. M.
Letter XXXVII. London, March 5. 1785.
You must know, my dear friend, that I am become so philoso
phical, so rational, and so indifferent, that such a speedy and complete
conversion is positively a phenomenon. You must know that yesterday

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 311
Gibbon1 parler, comme un des plus plats coquins
qui existent, sur la situation politique de I'Europe,
et que je n'ai pas dit un mot, quoique des la pre
miere phras* de M. Gibbon, sa morgue et son air
insolent m'eussent infiniment repousses. Vous sau
rez que press6 par votre candide ami le Marquis
de Lansdowne de dire mon avis, je me suis con-
tente de proferer ce peu de mots : " Je n'entends
rien a la politique, et surtout rien a celle de
M. Gibbon; mais je crois que .je puis assez
bien deviner les motifs des 'ecrivains politiques,
parceque, solitaire et studieux, j'ai I'habitude de
demeler dans les ecrits d'un homme de lettres ses
principes, et les principes sont la clef de tout. Or,
j'ai lu 1' elegante histoire de M. Gibbon, et cela me
suffit. Je dis son MUgante, et non pas son estimable
histoire, et voici pourquoi. Jamais, a. mon avis, la
philosophic n'a mieux rassemble les lumieres que
1' erudition peut donner sur les temps anciens, et

I heard Mr. Gibbon1 talk like one of the most arrant knaves in
existence upon the political state of Europe, and that I did not utter
a word, although I was infinitely disgusted with the air of insolent
confidence which accompanied his very first sentence. You must
know that, urged by your candid friend the Marquis of Lansdowne to
give my opinion, I contented myself with delivering these few sen
tences : — "I understand nothing of politics, and especially nothing of
Mr. Gibbon's politics, but I think I can pretty well guess the motives
of political writers, because, solitary and studious in my habits, I am
accustomed in the writings of a man of letters to make out his princi
ples, and principles are the key to every thing. Now, I have read Mr.
Gibbon's elegant history, and that is enough for me. I say his elegant
not his valuable history, and for this reason. Never, in my opinion
has philosophy more skilfully collected together the information which
erudition can afford respecting ancient times, nor arranged it in a hap-
i This is a mistake of Mirabeau's. Gibbon was at this time at Lau
sanne. See ante, p. 85.
X 4

LETTERS FROM March
lisposees dans un ordre plus heureux et
Facile. Mais, soit que M. Gibbon ait ete seduit,
ou qu'il ait voulu le paroitre, par la grandeur de
I'empire Romain, par le nombre de* ses legions,
par la magnificence de ses chemiris et de ses cites,
il a trace un tableau odieusement fauxdelafelicite
de cet empire, qui ecrasoit le monde et ne le ren-
doit pas heureux. Ce tableau meme il l'a pris dans
Gravina, au livre de Imperio Romano. Gravina
merite indulgence, parcequ'il etoit excuse par une
de ces grandes idees dont le genie surtout est si
facilement la dupe. Comme Leibnitz, il etoit
occupe du projet d'un empire universel, forme de
la reunion de tous les peuples de I'Europe, sous les
memes lois et la meme puissance ; et il cherchoit
un exemple de cette monarchie universelle dans
ce qu'avoit ete I'empire Romain depuis Au-
guste. Monsieur Gibbon peut nous dire qu'il a
eu la meme idee ; mais encore lui repondrai-je qu'il
ecrivoit une histoire, et ne faisoifc pas un systeme.
D'ailleurs cela n'expliqueroit point, et surtout cela

pier and more natural order. But whether Mr. Gibbon has really been
led away, or has wished to appear to be so, by the greatness of the Roman
empire, by the number of its legions, by the magnificence of its roads
and of its cities, he has drawn an odiously false picture of the felicity
of that empire, which crushed the world and did. not make it happy.
This picture too he took from Gravina, in his book de Imperio Romano.
Gravina is entitled to' indulgence, for he is excused by one of those
great ideas of which genius especially is so easily the dupe. Like
Leibnitz, he was taken up with the project of an universal empire,
formed by an union of all the nations of Europe, under the same laws
and the same authority, and he sought for an example of this uni
versal monarchy in the Roman empire, from the time of Augustus.
Mr. Gibbon may tell us that he entertained the same idea, but to
this I should reply that he was writing a history, not founding a sys
tem. Besides, this would not explain, still less would it excuse, the

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. v .,v 313
n'excuseroit pas l'esprit general de son ouvrage, OuV
se montre a chaque instant l'amour et l'estime des '"
richesses, le gout des voluptes, l'ignorance des
vraies passions de l'homme, l'incredulite surtout
pour les vertus republicaines. En parcourant
l'histoire du Bas .Empire de M. Gibbon, j'aurois
aisement devine que, si l'auteur se montroit jamais
dans les affaires publiques de la Grande Bretagne, on
le verroit pretant sa plume aux ministres, et com-
battant les droits des Americains a 1'in dependance:
j'aurois aussi devine la conversation d'aujourd'hui;
l'eloge du luxe et de l'autorite compacte, comme
dit Monsieur. Aussi, je n'ai jamais pu lire son
livre sans m'etonner qu'il fut ecrit en Anglois.
Chaque instant a peu pres, comme Marcel, j'etois
tente de m'addresser a M. Gibbon, et de lui dire,
' Vous un Anglois ! Non, vous ne Vetes point. Cette
admiration pour un empire de plus de deux cent
millions d'hommes, ou il n'y v, pas un seul homme qui
ait le droit de se dire libre, cette philosophic effSminee
qui donne plus (Teloges au luxe et aux plaisirs

general spirit of the work, which displays at every moment a love
and respect for wealth, » taste for luxury, an ignorance of the real
passions, of man, and above all a disbelief in republican virtue. In
reading through Mr. Gibbon's History of the Lower Empire, I should
readily have guessed that, if the author ever came forward in the
public affairs of Great Britain, he would be seen lending his pen to
ministers, and contesting the right of the Americans to independence
I should also have anticipated the conversation of to-day, the praise
of luxury and of ' compact' authority, as he is pleased to call it Ac
cordingly I never could read his book without wondering that it
should be written in English. At almost every moment, I was temnted
like Marcel, to address Mr. Gibbon, and to say to him < You an En'
glishman ! No, that you are not. This admiration for an empire of
more than two hundred millions of men, where there is not a single
man who has the right to call himself free, this effeminate philosophy
which bestows more praise upon luxury and pleasure than upon virtue

314 LETTERS FROM

Marchy

qu'aux vertus, ce style toujours elegant et jamais
Energique, annoncent tout au plus I'esclave d'un
electeur d'Hanovre.'" Diriez-vous, mon ami, que
des paroles si edulcorees ayent paru irriter M.
Gibbon, et qu'il m'ait dit qu'il n'y avoit rien a
repondre a des injures? et moi j'ai ri . . . . Oh ! je
vous assure que je fais de grands progres dans Part
de menager les hommes.
Au reste, mon ami, notez deux choses que me dit
hier le Marquis, qui a reellement beaucoup d'esprit
et d'idees. La premiere, bien digne de remarque,
c'est qu'on lit dans les Memoires de Bellecombe1
qu'un capitaine, dont il ne se rappela pas le nom,
proposoit, avant le milieu de ce siecle, de conquerir
le Bengale avec cinq cents hommes. On le prit
pour un fol. Cela met bien a leur juste mesure les
brigands posterieurs qui voudroient se faire passer
pour des heros ; et cela prouve, ce que je pense

this style, always elegant but never energetic, proclaim, at the very
best, the slave of an elector of Hanover.' " Could you have supposed,
my friend, that words so softened down could have appeared to irritate
Mr. Gibbon, and that he could have told me that he had no reply to
make to abuse ? As for me, I laughed  Oh ! I assure you I make
great progress in the art of conciliating men.
In the mean time, my friend, observe two things which were said to
me yesterday by the Marquis, who is really very clever, and very full of
thought. The first, which is well worthy of remark, was, that in Belle-
combe's1 Memoirs it is said that an officer, whose name he did not
remember, offered, before the middle of the present century, to con
quer Bengal with five hundred men. He was taken for a madman.
This places on their proper level the cut-throats of a later date, who
aim at being thought heroes ; and it proves, what I have long thought,

1 Probably Melcombe ; see Diary of G. Bubb Doddington, Lord
Melcombe, who, in 1751, relates a proposal by Colonel Milles, to con
quer Bengal with 1500 men, p. 1 10. 4th edit.

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 315
depuis longtemps, que la revolution de l'Amerique
s'est faite a Londres, et celle de l'lndostan dans le
Bengale, ex visceribus rei.
La seconde chose porte sur une idee belle et
profonde. " Je voudrois," dit le Marquis, " que
l'on questionnat les scelerats convaincus, pour les
etudier en philosophes, apreis les avoir interroges
en magistrats pour les condamner. On gouverne
les hommes, et on ne les connoit point ; On ne fait
rien pour les connoitre." Cette pensee m'a paru
grande, vraie, et touchante.
Un malheureux, accuse d'un crime qui peut le
mener a l'echafaud, est assis sur une sellette ; on
1'interroge, mais sur son crime uniquement, et, si
son crime paroit etabli, on l'envoie a la mort sans
lui rien demander de plus. Chez nous, il se con
fesse a l'oreille du ministre de la religion, dans le
sein du quel tous les secrets de sa vie doivent se
perdre. On ne doit plus que de la pitie aux cri-
minels meme, lorsqu'ils ont entendu leur sen
tence de mort : car, des ce moment, ils ont dei a

that the revolution of America was made in London, and that of Hin-
doostan in Bengal, ex visceribus rei.
The second thing involves a fine and profound thought. " I wish "
said the Marquis, " that convicted criminals were questioned, in order
that they might be philosophically studied, after having been magisterially
examined with a view to their conviction. We govern men, and we do
not know them, we do not endeavour to know them." This thought
appeared to me important, true, and affecting.
An unfortunate man, accused of a crime which may bring him to the
scaffold, is placed in the dock ; he is examined, but with reference
to his crime only, and if that appear to be proved, he is sent to death
without another question being asked him. With us, he makes
his confession in private to the minister of religion, in whose breast all
the secrets of his life are to be buried. As soon as a criminal has heard his
sentence of death, our only feeling towards him should be that of pity •

316 LETTERS FROM March,
subi leur plus grande peine. Que le magistrat,
qui la leur a prononcee, fasse succeder a ce minis-
tere si terrible pour lui-meme, un ministere qui le
console d'avoir ete aussi severe que la loi ; qu'en
temoignant de la pitie et de la compassion aux
malheureux qu'il a ete oblige de condamner, il
penetre dans leurs ames deja dechirees par le
repentir et par la douleur; qu'il en obtienne
l'aveu des fatales circonstances qui les ont egares
dans les voies du crime ! Que de lumieres !
quelle nouvelle connoissance de l'homme et de la
societe on verra resulter de ces confessions faites
aux pretres de la loi ! Et qu'on ne croie point
qu'il fut si difficile d'obtenir ces revelations de la
bouche de ces infortunes. L'homme qui va mourir
a bien peu de choses a dissimuler. Interroges par
des magistrats qui connoitroient la langue que
I'humanite doit parler aux malheureux, ilseprouve-
roient a s'entretenir des vices qui les ont perdus,
cette espece d'attrait que l'homme eprouve a ra-

for from that moment he has already suffered his greatest punishment.
I would have the magistrate, who has pronounced sentence against him,
pass from the performance of an office so terrible to one which may
console him for having been the instrument of the law's severity. Let
him, by showing pity and compassion for the wretches he has been
obliged to condemn, penetrate into their breasts, already torn by re
morse and grief, and draw from them an avowal of the fatal circum
stances which led them astray into the paths of crime. How many
new lights, what increased knowledge of man and of society would
ensue from these confessions, made to the ministers of justice. And
let it not be thought that it would be so difficult to draw such dis
closures from the mouths of these unfortunate beings. The man who
is about to die has very little to conceal. If examined by a magistrate,
who knows the language which humanity should employ towards the
wretched, they would experience, in speaking of the vices which have
proved their ruin, the same kind of pleasure as that which is felt by

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 317
confer ses malheurs. II est, d'ailleurs, dans la
nature humaine de trouver je ne sais quelle con
solation, je ne sais quel soulagement, a faire des
aveux, dont on n'a rien a craindre. II semble
que l'ame oppressee du poids de ses remords le
rejette, et s'en delivre, en faisant l'aveu de ses
fautes ; et c'est ainsi que la confession m'a toujours
paru d'institution de nature, quoique bien dan-
gereuse comme institution divine ou politique.
Mais, mon ami, voici le troisieme bavardage volu-
mineux que vous recevez de moi ; il est temps avant
de continuer de savoir si cela vous deplait ou vous
derange. A votre reponse done.
M. Hardy1 laisse a toutes les portes un libelle
Anglais contre moi.
L'histoire de Geneve m'est irrevocablement et
exclusivement abandonnee, mais Dyer n'a pas
remis une ligne.
Dimanche, 5.

all men in relating their misfortunes. It is, moreover, a part of human
nature to find I know not what of consolation and relief in making
confessions from which there is nothing to be feared. It would seem
that the mind, oppressed by the load of remorse, shrinks from it and
throws it off by confessing its faults ; and thus it is that the prac
tice of confession has always appeared to me to have had its origin in
nature, however dangerous as a religious or political institution.
But this is the third long rhapsody which you will have received
from me, my friend ; it is high time, before I go on, to know if this
annoys or disturbs you. I await your answer.
Mr. Hardy ' is leaving at every door an English libel against me.
The History of Geneva is finally and exclusively given up tome- but
Dyer has not sent me one line.

See ante, p. 81.

318 LETTERS FROM March,
Letter XXXVIII.
FROM MR. BAYNES.
Dear Romilly, London, March 7. 1785.
I dined yesterday with your brother ; we
had, as usual, a very agreeable afternoon ; he is to
go in your stead with Mr. M. into the House
of Commons, in case of your absence. It was
your mother's birthday ; they did not intend to
tell me ; but I happened to haye found it out by
accident previously, and, all on a sudden, I drank
your mother's health, congratulating her on the
occasion. They were all surprised, and we laughed
most heartily, an art in which, if loudness and fre
quency are any merit, I surely excel. However,
they soon guessed that I had got my information
at Kensington, whither I had been on a walk with
the Count.1
I dare say you are no more sorry than myself
that the scrutiny is ended. Mr. Fox's party keep
within no bounds of joy ; they have illuminated
two or three nights, and yesterday, the rabble drew
Mr. Fox to the House of Commons.
The Count called upon me to-day, to desire
me to write to Johnson to insist on his finishing
the translation, and publishing it immediately.2
Hardy has printed an English libel against him,
apparently translated from the French of Linguet :
— this, I trust, will be of no great service to H. if
he should bring his cause to a trial. The Count
1 Mirabeau. ¦ 2 See ante, p. 79.

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 319
complains bitterly of his hard fate, in losing
Madame de * * * and you at once. By his letter to
you, he seems to think my heart harder than
adamant or Marpesian rocks, in being so insensible
to his distress. For my part, as I well know that
there are many persons who possess much finer feel
ings than myself, so, I trust, I am far from being that
unfeeling philosophizing mass of clay which the
Count seems to imagine me ; and though I doubt
not in the least, the sincerity of his sorrow, yet
I own I am, on this occasion, much more disposed to
wish he had no greater cause of uneasiness. One rea
son why he seems to think thus of me is probably
a certain reserve or backwardness (which, in other
respects, I do not possess,) in expressing my affec.
tions either of pity or regard to any other person.
This is perhaps a weakness, perhaps a fault, which
I feel I possess, and which I cannot help attri
buting to the circumstance of my not meeting
with a friend whose disposition exactly suited me, '
till very late in life. This, however, if a fault, will
I trust be readily excused by you ; particularly as,
on many occasions, I cannot help fancying that I
have seen you feel much more than you have ven
tured, or had the courage, to express. I do not know
whether I am not much bolder on paper than in
conversation, in expressing as well my own uneasi
nesses as my regards. I think I have observed the
same in you. However this may be, I hope you
will not think me the more insensible because
I do not always express my sensations ; nor in
sincere, when I assure you that I do really feel a
great want of your company. I have even the

320 LETTERS FROM March,
pleasure to hope you will believe me, when I assure
you that your friendship is the principal source of
my present happiness ; and that it is my greatest
consolation to reflect that we shall never probably
be far or long separated during our lives.
" Equidem ex omnibus rebus, quas mihi aut for-
tuna aut natura tribuit, nihil habeo, quod cum ami-
citia. Scipionis possum comparare. In hac mihi de
republica consensus, in hac rerum privatarum con
silium ; in eadem requies plena oblectationis fuit "
(I wish I might add, " nunquam ilium ne minima
quidem re offendi, quod quidem senserim") ; "nihil
audivi ex eo ipse, quod nollem. Una domus erat,
idem victus, isque communis : neque solum mi
litia, sed etiam peregrinationes rusticationesque
communes." l
Yours, dear Romilly, ever sincerely,
J. B.
Tuesday, 8th.
Letter XXXIX.
FROM MR. BAYNES.
Dear Romilly, Gray's Inn, March 16. 1785.
The Count is delighted with your letter ;
he is determined you shall be a great man ; and,
from the conversation I had with him this morning
in confidence, I have great reason to think that he
has spoken of you in such terms to Lord Shel
burne, as to induce Lord S. to offer you a seat in
Parliament.2 I doubt not but that you will be
astonished at this information ; it is, however, my
' Cic. de Amicit. " See ante, p. 87.

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 321
firm opinion that some such plan is in agitation.
I collect it only from what passed between the
Gount and me this morning. The terms offered
will, I doubt not, be very liberal. Though my
information is founded only on the Count's ideas,
which 'are in general very sanguine, yet I see no
reason to doubt his accuracy in this account. At
all events, I thought it would be the best to tell
you my suspicions ; as it would be very unpleasant
for you to be attacked unprepared upon so import
ant a subject. I wish you would give me a line,
immediately or as soon as possible, with the rough
sketch of your ideas of this proposal. Pray con
sider it well. I will then tell you mine very freely.
Yours sincerely,
J. B.

Letter XL.
FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.1
Mon Ami, [Londres,] 18 Mars, 1785.
Je ne vous repondrai pas, parceque je suis
ecrase d'ouvrage inattendu ; mais je vous dirai du
moins combien votre lettre m'a touche, combien
elle porte l'empreinte d'un cceur tendre et d'une

Letter XL.

My dear Friend, London, March 18. 1785.
I will not reply-to you, because I am overwhelmed with unex
pected business ; but I will at least tell you how much your letter has
touched me, how deeply it bears the stamp of a tender heart and an
VOL. I. y

322 LETTERS FROM

March,

ame honnete, et quel charm e ce dulcia sunto x re-
pand sur les plus grands talens et sur les plus fortes
conceptions de l'esprit. Je sens comme vous avez
senti dans votre lettre, quoique je ne pense pas
sur ce sujet comme vous pensez; parcequ'il est
impossible a. ma raison de donner son assenti-
ment a la seule emotion. On ne me rSpond pas,
mais peut-Mre on m'entend ; ces rnots touchans
proferes sur 1'urne cineraire d'un ami, m'ont tou
jours paru ce qu'on pouvoit dire de plus eloquent
en faveur de l'immortalite de I'&me ; et si je ne
puis trouver a. cette theorie qu'un attrait, et non
pas une evidence portant conviction, ni meme une
probability entrainant persuasion, cet attrait m'a
toujours semble assez vif pour non seulement ex-
cuser, mais aimer et louer ceux qui admettent ce
dogme, quoique leurs argumens me paroissent in-
complets et defectueux. Et plut au Fabricateur des
mondes, que le grand ressort qu'il a mis en nous,

honest mind, and what a charm these "dulcia sunto i " diffuse over the
greatest talents and the most vigorous conceptions of the intellect.
I feel as you felt in your letter, although I do not think upon this
subject as you think ; because it is impossible for my reason to give its
assent to feeling alone. " I am not answered, but perhaps I am heard ; "
these affecting words, uttered over the grave of a friend, have always
appeared to me the most eloquent thing that could be said in favour
of the immortality of the soul ; and if in this theory I can find but a
charm, and not evidence amounting to conviction, or even a proba
bility carrying with it persuasion, still it is a charm which has always
appeared to me attractive enough not only to excuse, but to make one
love and praise those who admit this dogma, although to me their argu
ments appear incomplete and defective. And would that it had pleased
the Creator of worlds that sensibility, the great elastic principle with

i*Non satis est pulchra esse poemata; dulcia sunto,
" Et quocunque volent, animum auditoris agunto.
Hor. De A. P. 99.

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC.

323

la sensibilite, n'eut jamais entraine notre espece a
des illusions plus dangereuses, a des paralogismes
plus funestesl Quoiqu'il en soit, mon ami, si
vous avez cru me faire un sermon, je vous dirai,
sermonnez-moi toujours ainsi ; la poesie de votre
ame vaut mieux a la mienne que la logique de ma
pauvre tete, qui, dans ce genre, apres avoir bien
travaille, ne fait guere que substituer des difficultes
a des difficultes.
Je vous attends avec impatience, mon bon ami,
non pas seulement parceque vous voir et causer avec
vous est devenu un des plus vifs et des plus pre
cieux besoins de mon cceur et de mon esprit, mais
parceque je suis tres-trompe ou il s'ouvre une car-
riere digne de vous, et propre a donner l'essor a
vos grands talens. On m'a fait des propositions a
votre sujet qui ne blesseront pas votre delicatesse,
puisqu'elles n'ont point effarouche la mienne, et
qui vous presagent un nouvel ordre de choses. Je
sais ce que votre damnable tjmidite et votre aimable
modestie vont me repondre ; mais, mon ami, je

which he has endowed us, had never seduced our species into more
dangerous illusions, into more fatal paralogisms. Be that as it may, my
friend, if you thought to read me a lecture, I will say to you, lecture
me ever thus ; the poetry of your soul is better for mine than the
logic of my poor head, which, on such matters, after having laboured
hard, does little more than substitute one difficulty for another.
I expect you impatiently, my good friend, not only because to see
you and to converse with you is become one of the most lively and
precious wants of my heart and mind, but because (unless I much
deceive myself) a career is about to be opened to you which is worthy
of you, and suited to the exercise of your great talents. Proposals
have been made to me on your behalf, which will not offend your deli
cacy, since mine has not been alarmed by them, and which hold out to
you the promise of a new order of things. I know the answer your
insufferable timidity and amiable diffidence are going to make; but I
v2

324 LETTERS FROM March,
vous repeterai pour la millieme fois qu'un homme
fort doit af oir le sentiment de sa force, et que la
sauvagerie n'est pas la modestie, ni la timidite la
circonspection. Heureusement on a dans ce pays
le tres-bon esprit de mettre moins de prix aux graces
que partout ailleurs ; mais il est cependant une va
cillation de contenance qui nuit partout, et le tres-
petit et frivole talent de costumer sa personne et
son attitude ne se gagne que dans le monde. Si
done, par des raisons tirees de Votre profession, ou
de vos projets (car il n'est aucune autre objection
admissible lorsqu'on vous appelle au role d'homme
public sans conditions), vous ne voulez pas accepter
les propositions qui vous seront faites, connoissez du
moins, et voyez ceux qui veulent vous les faire.
Repandez-vous, voyez, soyez vu, montrez-vous,
formez-vous. Tout ce a quoi je me suis engage
c'est a vous amener, parceque je sais qu'un etranger
ne peut pas conseiller dans les choses locales ; mais .
je me suis engage a cela, et vous ne m'en dedirez

will repeat to you, my friend, for the thousandth time, that a powerful
mind ought to have the consciousness of its own power, and that shy
ness is not modesty, nor want of courage prudence. Fortunately, in this
country, people have the great good sense to set less value upon ex
ternal grace than in any other part ofthe world, but nevertheless there
is a certain want of self-possession which is injurious every where ;
and the art of setting off the person and demeanour, petty and frivo
lous as it is, is only to be acquired in the world. If then, for reasons
drawn from your profession or plans in life (for when, unfettered
by conditions!, you are called upon to take a part in public life, no
other reason is admissible), you will not accept the proposals which
will be made you, at all events know and see those who wish to make
them. Mix in society, see and be seen, show what you are, form your
self. I know that in local matters a foreigner is not a safe adviser,
and accordingly all that I have engaged to do is to bring you with
me : to so much I am pledged, and you will not deny me ; for, in

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 325
pas ; car, dans un pays libre, dans un pays ou il y a
une patrie, un citoyen doit conference a quiconque
la lui demande sur des objets d'utilite publique.
Tout ceci vous paroitra peut-etre du galimathias,
mon ami, mais ce n'est rien moins qui cela, et vous
en aurez la clef a la premiere vue. — Vale, et me
ama.
Letter XLI.
FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.
[Paris,] 22 Mai, 1785.
Pour cette fois, mon bon et cher Romilly,
et, sans tirer a consequence, vous avez tort. J'ar-
rive ce soir a minuit a, Paris: j'y trouve votre
lettre, arrivee de hier : et je n'ai que le temps de
vous dire que je viens de faire 300 lieues, com
poser, imprimer, tirer, et brocher 300 pages a
2000 exemplaires ; que ce livre1, bon ou mauvais,
mais necessaire pour sauver un bon ministre, et,
a free country, one which is truly a mother country, a citizen is bound
to give audience to any one who may demand it of him on matters- of
public utility.
All this may, perhaps, appear jargon to you, my friend ; it is, however,
nothing less, I assure you, and I will give you the key to it when we
meet. Vale, et me ama. Letter XLI; Paris, May 22. 1785.
This time, my good and dear Romilly (but without any dis
paragement to you), you are in the wrong. I reached Paris, to-night,
at twelve : I find your letter, which arrived yesterday ; and I have
now only time to tell you, that I have travelled 300 leagues, com
posed, printed, struck off, and stitched 2000 copies of 300 ' pages
each ; that this book ', whether good or bad, —but which was neces
sary to save a good minister, and, what is more, to prevent a bank-
i The work alluded to was probably the one entitled De kc Banque
d Espagne, Me de St. Charles, which was suppressed bv the French an
vernment on the 17th of July, 178.5. *ieutn go-
Y 3

326

LETTERS FROM May,

qui plus est, une banqueroute de quelques cen-
taines de millions, a ete compose, imprime en pays
etranger, rapporte, et mis en etat d'etre distribue,
en moins de cinq semaines, parcequ'il devoit
paroitre avant le ler Juin : que ma tournee, un
peu rapide comme vous voyez, se faisoit en pays
ou la moindre chose qui m'eut decele me faisoit
pendre ou empaler : que c'est la la raison unique
qui m'a empeche d'ecrire: que cela m'a si peu
empeche de penser a mes amis que ma petite, qui
ne m'a rejoint qu'a la fin, et quand j'ai eu besoin
d'elle pour la contrebande, a du ecrire trois ou
quatre fois ; qu'enfin, en signe de souvenir, il est
parti un paquet de cinquante exemplaires de ce
livre, ou je les rappelle aux ordres de leurs graces
MM. Elliot, Romilly, Baynes, Vaughan, et Chau-
vet. La justification vous paroitra complete,
mon ami, si vous y ajoutez, que, le troisieme jour
apres mon arrivee d'Angleterre, j'ai ete saisi par
cette besogne, le onzieme en course, car de fait,
mes materiaux une fois ramasses, le livre a ete fait
ruptcy to the extent of some hundreds of millions, — has been written,
printed in a foreign country (because it was essential that it should
appear before the 1st of June), brought back, and got ready for distri
bution, all in less than five weeks ; that my journey, somewhat rapid as
you see, was in a country where the slightest thing which had betrayed
me would have sent me to the gallows or the stake ; that this has been
the only cause of my not writing to you, and has so little prevented me
from thinking of my friends, that my little dear, who only joined me
towards the end of my expedition, when she was wanted for the
smuggling, must have written not less than three or four times ; that, to
conclude, a parcel containing 50 copies of the book has been sent off, in
token of remembrance, to Messrs. Elliot, Romilly, Baynes, Vaughan, and
Chauvet, at whose disposal I beg to leave them. My justification will ap
pear to you complete, my friend, if you add, that the third day after my
arrival from England I was engrossed by this work ; that on the eleventh
I was on my journey (for, in truth, my materials once collected,

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 327
dans les auberges ; que vos lettres ne me sont
parvenues (sauf la votre) qu'apres des circuits
immenses ; que deux me galoppent et ne me sont
point encore parvenues; que je suis rendu de
fatigue plus que motivee par une expedition d'une
activite et d'une audace presque sans exemple;
qu'enfin, si le prochain courrier je ne suis pas a la
Bastille, vous aurez tous trois ou quatre une
grande lettre de moi. — N.B. Que si j'y etois, Mde.
de * * * le manderait, et qu'il ne faudrait pas beau-
coup s'en effrayer.
Sur le tout, cher ami, aimez-moi comme je vous
aime, et montrez sur-le-champ cette lettre a Elliot
et Baynes, car il est temps qu'ils sachent ce qu'ils
auroient du deviner, que j'etois incapable d'une
negligence si coupable, et qu'il falloit bien qu'il
y eut un dessous de carte qu'ils ignoroient. — Vale,
et me ama ; car je tombe de sommeil, mais j'ai voulu
saisir le. courrier.
Justifiez-moi aussi aupres de M. Vaughan.

the book was written in inns) ; that all the letters of my English
friends, with the exception of your own, made enormous circuits before
they reached me, and that two of them are still in pursuit of me ; that I
am exhausted with fatigue more than accounted for by an expedition
almost unexampled for its activity and boldness ; and, finally, that, by
the very next post, if I am not then in the Bastille, you shall all three
or four have a long letter from me. — N.B. That if I- were there,
Mde. * * * would send you word of it, and there would be no great
reason for alarm.
To sum up, my friend, love me as I love you, and show this letter,
forthwith, to Elliot and Baynes, for it is time they should know, what
they ought to have guessed, that I was incapable of such culpable
neglect, and that of course there was an under-current of which they
knew nothing. Vale, et me ama ; for I am dropping from my chair
with sleep, but I was resolved to save the post.
Set me right also with Mr. Vaughan.
Y 4

328 LETTERS FROM Dec.
Letter XLII.
FROM THE MARQUIS OF LANSDOWNE.
Sir, Bowood Park, Dec. 25. 1785.
I should have thanked you sooner for the
favour of your letter, but deferred doing it till I
had time to read the book1, which accompanied it,
with the attention which any thing coming from
you will always command from me. The prin-.
ciples of penal law is the subject of all others
upon which I am most ignorant, and most unread.
However, your arguments, and the authorities to
which you refer, incline me to think that a revision
of our penal law is not only desirable, but neces
sary, for the purpose of making it agreeable to the
spirit of the times, and such as can be executed.
Mr. Blackburne's plan was stopped during my
time at the Treasury. I was assured that if the
number of ale-houses could be lessened, the Vagrant
Act inforced, and the general administration of jus
tice as it stood invigorated, a great deal might be
done without having recourse to any new institu
tion. As Parliament was not sitting nothing could
be done about the public-houses ; but a proclama
tion was issued, and every method tried to bring
about the two last, and the effect answered the
most sanguine expectation. I see by a late charge
of Mr. Mainwaring's to the grand jury of Middle
sex, that those most conversant in the police
continue of the same opinion. Under these cir-
i Entitled Observations on a late Publication, entitled " Thoughts on
Executive Justice, by Madan." See ante, p. 88.

1785. MIRABEAU, ETC. 329
cumstances, it was impossible for me to consent
to so great an expenditure upon a plan which
I plainly saw had been partially taken up, and
the whole of the subject not properly con
sidered. No man would do so in his private
affairs ; and I still think it would be inexpedient,
in the double light of expenditure and punishment,
till the measures, to which I allude, have had a fair
and effectual trial. Upon the change of ministry
these measures were dropped ; and a number of
persons confined under the Vagrant Act were
immediately set at liberty ; who have made, if I
am rightly informed, a material part of those who
have infested London since.
I propose to be in London in about a fortnight ;
when I shall be very glad of the pleasure of talking
to you upon this or any other subject.
I am, with great truth and regard, Sir,
Your most obedient, humble Servant,
Lansdowne.

Letter XLIII.
FROM SIR GILBERT ELLIOT.i
Dear Sir, Park Street, Feb. 10. 1786.
I thank you for the very excellent work2
you have favoured me with. As I am writing to
yourself I shall be more reserved than with any
other man I can converse with on the subject ;
but you must just give me leave to wonder that you
1 Afterwards Lord Minto.
* The work alluded to in the preceding letter.

330 LETTERS FROM June,
should feel the least desire to conceal the name pf
the author. Your design is too honourable, I
think, to leave you much anxiety about the per
formance, even if that were at all doubtful : but
one is worthy of the other, and you know, from
me, c'est tout dire. I do assure you, the perusal
has given me the greatest pleasure, both from the
certainty of the very high credit you must derive
from it, and from the hope it affords me of seeing
real and extensive good result, from our penal law
and our administration of criminal justice being
treated with your views, and by your pen. I en
treat you to go on.
I send you the paper you desired, and some
others which you may perhaps either have already
or not want ; but they may take their chance of
serving you.
Believe me most sincerely, dear Sir,
Your faithful humble servant,
Gilbert Elliot.
Letter XLIV.
FROM M. TARGET.
[Paris,] 19 Juin, 1786.
Recevez, Monsieur, tous mes remercimens
du bon ouvrage que vous m'avez envoye. Je l'ai
lu avec l'interet qu'inspire un grand objet social,
et l'attendrissement que l'on ressent toujours a la
Letter XLIV. 19 June, 1786.
Accept my best thanks, my dear Sir, for the excellent work you
have sent me. I read it with the interest which a great social object
must inspire, and with the feelings which must be always excited in read-

1786. MIRABEAU, ETC 331
lecture d'un ecrit dicte par l'amour de I'humanite
Ces sentimens s'accroissent de tout ce que peut y
ajouter I'amitie que vous m'avez marquee, et dont
je conserve un precieux souvenir. Ecrivez, com-
battez toujours, Monsieur, pour la bienfaisance et
pour l'utilite publique ; c'est le meilleur emploi
d'une vie qu'on perd toutes les fois qu'on ne la con-
sacre pas aux choses utiles.
Je suis delivre depuis peu de jours d'une affaire
dont toute I'Europe a parle : vous savez sans doute
que par arret du 31 Mai dernier, M. le Cardinal
de Rohan a ete decharge de l'accusation, et a ob-
tenu une victoire pleine; les memoires que j'ai faits
pour lui sont a Londres ; il y en a meme une tra
duction Angloise, que je desirerois avoir si <:ela
etoit possible.
Je ne recommande point a votre zele la cause de
Mad. de Rochard, qui me remercie a chaque oc
casion du present que je lui ai fait en vous indi-
quant pour defenseur. Je n'ai siirement aucuns

ing what is dictated by the love of mankind. Much is to be added to
these feelings from the friendship you have shown me, the recollection
of which is most valuable to me. Continue, Sir, to write and to la
bour in the cause of benevolence and of public utility ; it is making
the best use of a life which, when not devoted to usefulness, is thrown
away. It is only a few days since I have been set at liberty from a cause
which has engaged the attention of all Europe. You, no doubt, know
that, by the decree of the 31st of May last, the Cardinal of Rohan has
been freed from the accusation against him, and has obtained a com
plete victory ; the defence which I made for him is in London ; there is
even an English translation of it, which I should wish to have if pos
sible. I do not beg you to be zealous in the cause of Mad. de Rochard,
who takes every opportunity of thanking me for the present I made
her in pointing you out for her counsel; no exertions of mine are

332 LETTERS FROM Oct,
efforts a. faire pour vous engager a. la servir de toute
votre justice et de tous vos talens.
Ne m'oubliez pas, je vous prie, aupres de. M.
Baynes, que je remercie de sa lettre, et a. qui je
demande pardon de n'avoir pas repondu.
Jai l'honneur d'etre avec un attachement re-
spectueux et un devouement inviolable,
Monsieur, Votre tres-humble
Et tres-obeissant Serviteur, Target.
Lftter XLV-
FROM MR. BAYNES.
My dear Friend, Trin. Coll. Camb., Oct. 3. 178S.
I should have been with you by this time,
had not our Master and Seniors, by making the
late election of Fellows exactly in the most im
proper as well as most unpopular manner pos
sible, detained me in college a few days longer,
for the purpose of endeavouring to effect some
reform in the present mode of carrying on that
business. How far we shall succeed, Heaven only
knows. The particulars of what has passed I can
not now communicate, for many reasons. '
necessary to induce you to assist her with all your justice and all your
talents. Pray remember me to Mr. Baynes, whom I thank for his letter, and
whose forgiveness I ask for not having answered it.
I have the honour to be, &c. &c. Target.

1 See the history of Trinity College, which is appended to Bishop
Monk's Life of Bentley, vol. ii. p. 423. 2d edit.

1786. MIRABEAU, ETC. 333
My time has been, on the whole, very agreeably
spent. Our juniors form a very pleasant party:
Cautley and Hailstone and Popple have been with
us pretty constantly ; Mansell, the Momus of our
Pantheon, supplies us as liberally with puns, as
Harry Gordon, our Ganymede, with his nectarean
port. Alas, poor Gordon ! for" our Seniors, the
other day, thought proper to displace him, after
Christmas next, for an insult on some of their own
body. We are all unanimous, and facetious, and
merry ; what can I say more ?
Our evenings are filled up by the exertions of
two companies of comedians, one from Norwich,
the other from I know not where ; but the latter
is under the management of W. Palmer, of the
Theatre Royal, Covent Garden. Palmer and Ed
win come down occasionally to W. Palmer's thea
tre. I am going thither, to-night, with some very
handsome ladies ; therefore, wonder not at my
unusual brevity if I be_obliged to conclude soon,
as the hour is not far distant. Shakspeare and
black letter muster strong at Emanuel. Farmer
the master, Stevens, Isaac Reed, and Master
Herbert, the editor of Ames, have taken up their
quarters there. I have looked for Douce every
day ; but, alas ! he does not come.
I shall come to law with redoubled fury. I
have ransacked all the libraries here for manu
scripts, but find nothing of much consequence
except old readings, which are, mostly, very diffi
cult to read. I have done a chapter of Coke on
" Fines, read a book of Cicero de Legibus, an ora
tion in Greek, and newspapers and reviews

334 LETTERS FROM Aug.
nombre." You seem all very dull in town, and
want a certain person, who shall be nameless, to
enliven you. I intend, therefore (provided I can
accomplish my point by that time), to set off on
Saturday next. J. B.

Letter XLVI.
FROM MR. WILBERFORCE.
Dear Sir, Teignmouth, Aug. 20. 1787.
I loved and valued poor Baynes l more,
almost, than I was warranted to do by the length
of our acquaintance, or the time we had spent to
gether ; and, excepting one or two persons only,
there is scarce any man living to whose future
public services I looked forward with such good
hope as I did to his. An understanding so solid
as his, with such unaffected simplicity and honesty
of heart, are indeed rarely to be met with in our
days ; and are a greater national loss than can well
be estimated. Though a stranger to his father, it
is impossible not to be deeply affected for his situ
ation ; I understand he had no other child. The
book and ring I shall be much obliged to you if
you will transmit to me at Exeter, or rather the
latter of them only, and which may be sent in a
letter, and will be forwarded to me wherever I
may be rambling ; the former you will have the
goodness to reserve for me until my return to
town.
Mr. Baynes died in the summer of 1787. See ante, p. 94

1787. MIRABEAU, ETC. 335
I cannot lay aside my pen without express
ing a wish, that I may be allowed to persuade
myself that the connexion, which was formed be
tween us through the medium of our deceased
friend, will not be broken off; but that, though
this bond of union exist no longer, we shall con
tinue mutually to cultivate it, as opportunities may
occur.- I am, dear Sir, yours, &c.
W. Wilberforce.

Letter XLVII.
FROM MR. MASON.'
gjj. Aston, near Rotherham, Sept. 15. 1787.
I was on a visit in South Wales, when the
very afflicting news of our excellent friend's death
was first communicated to me by the papers ; and
your letter of the 22d of August, directed to me
at York, travelled almost half the kingdom after
me, before it found me, only the last post day,
returned to my parsonage. This, I trust, you will
think a sufficient excuse for so late an answer, and
will account for a silence which would, otherwise,
have been highly culpable.
I should expatiate much on the character of
him who is now lost to us and our country, did I
not firmly believe that the person whom he se
lected for one of his executors, must have as true
a sense and even more experience of his invaluable
' The poet.

336 LETTERS FROM MIRABEAU, ETC 1787.
qualities than myself ; suffice it for me to avow,
that, as youth is the season of virtue, I never
saw youth more replete with moral excellence
than his exhibited. The remembrance he was
pleased to honour me with in his last moments,
will make his, end only with mine. Let me intreat
you, Sir, when you can do it with propriety, to
make my tenderest expressions of condolence ac
ceptable to his too justly afflicted parent, and I
hope this will find both you and him somewhat
recovered from so severe a stroke.
I am, Sir, with most true respect, your much
obliged and obedient servant, W. Mason.

337

CORRESPONDENCE WITH M. DUMONT AND OTHERS.

1788—1789.
Letter XLVIII.
TO MADAME D  .1
Gray's Inn, Oct. 14. 1788.
I profit very gladly of the liberty you have
allowed me of writing to you, and of writing in
that language in which I can most forcibly express
the sentiments of affection and gratitude which I
entertain for you and your family. The hours
which I spent with them, were by far the happiest
that I passed in France ; and though my frequent
visits to Passy must have shown that I thought
them such, and have made this declaration unne
cessary, yet I make it because I find a pleasure in
doing so, and in transporting myself, though but
in imagination, once again amongst you. If any
thing could be wanting to make me feel how much
I lost in quitting Paris, it was our unpropitious
journey.2 We had the misfortune to be kept six
days by adverse winds at Boulogne ; and, notwith
standing all the philosophy we could summon to
1 These letters were written to a lady with whom and with whose
family Mr. Romilly formed, during his stay at Paris, in 1781, a friend
ship which continued uninterrupted to the end of his life.
2 Mr. Dumont accompanied Mr. Romilly on this journey.
VOL. I, Z

338 correspondence with Oct.
our assistance, and a pretty large number of books
with which we were provided, the contrast between
our late residence at Paris, and our then condition,
imprisoned in a miserable inn, and, to add to our
mortification, with the coast of England full in out
vie w, was too striking not to provoke very fre
quently our impatience. Our only resource was to
talk of Paris and Passy, and in idea to live over
again the time which was passed. A few hours
more delay would have prevented the possibility of
my arriving at Warwick in time for the sessions,
and have totally disappointed the only object for
which I was in so great a hurry to get from Paris.
However, by travelling two nights, and not stop
ping in London even to unpack my trunks, I arrived
time enough : and the only misfortune produced
by this delay (but which, indeed, I feel as no small
one) is, that I have been prevented delivering Miss
D  's letters till my return from Warwick.
With respect to public affairs, I interest myself
so much in them, that I am as impatient to read the
foreign gazettes as if the preservation of our liber
ties depended upon the recovery of those of France.
I have found Mr. Seguier's speech (for which I
return you many thanks) much more curious than
edifying. What has most shocked me in it, even
more than his legislative volontS du Roi, is the
doctrine which he takes so much trouble to enforce,
that les abus naissent du sein des innovations; be
cause it appears to me to be a doctrine which is
pernicious every where, but which in France is de
structive not only of all public good, but even of
every hope of good ; for the people to be happy

1788. M. DUMONT, ETC. 339
and free would certainly be, in France, the greatest
of all innovations.
Permit me, Madam, to beg that you would pre
sent my most affectionate compliments to all your
family, to Mr. Guyot and to Mr. Gautier, to whom
I hope to have the pleasure of writing by the next
post. I have the honour to be, with the sincerest
respect and affection, Madam, Yours, &c. -Same. Romilly.

Letter XLIX.

TO THE SAME.

Madam,

London, Feb. 27. 1789.

Miss D-

 does me great injustice in sup

posing that the late situation of our affairs, or in
deed any possible situation of them, could make
me forget your family. It has not been forgetful*
ness, but the fear of tiring you, which has prevented
my writing sooner. Perhaps I may still have that
to fear, but even at so great a risk, I cannot any
longer delay telling you the pleasure I always feel
in hearing from you.
Our situation in England begins to wear a very
happy appearance. The King, if not quite reco
vered, is very nearly so. There will be no regency,
and consequently no change of ministry. The joy
which has taken place throughout the nation is very
sincere and very general : it is not, however, univer
sal. A number of persons had made themselves
z 2 .

340 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Feb.
sure of coming into great and lucrative offices, and
of long enjoying them : these have now waked from
their dream of grandeur, and find themselves con
demned still to toil on in an unsuccessful opposition.
I quite concur with Miss D  in her judgment
of the King of Prussia's letters. It is certain that
the King every where gives his philosophical cor
respondents indirect lessons of toleration and for
bearance. The historical parts of his works, though
certainly not written in the proper style for history,
are very instructive. The description he gives of
his own desolated dominions at the end of that war
of seven years in which he reaped so much glory,
seems better calculated to inspire mankind with a
detestation of war than any arguments or any elo
quence. Gray's letters I have never read since they were
first published ; but I remember at that time being
very much delighted with them ; and particularly
with some fragments of poems which are nearly
equal to his finished performances. I cannot say
that I am acquainted with the Abbe de Mably's
Observations on the History of France, although
I have bought them, for I have not yet had time
to look into them. I entertain much more respect
for the Abbe de Mably's memory on account of
his private character, than his literary talents. I
have never much admired any thing I have read of
his, not even his famous Entretiens de Phocion.
If this letter were by any accident to fall into Mr.
Gautier's hands, I fear it would quite ruin me in his
good opinion. May I beg of you, Madam, when
you see him, to assure him that however erroneous

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 341
my judgment may be with respect to others, it is
very just with respect to himself, and that I always
entertain the warmest friendship for him.
But it is time for me to put an end to this letter ;
permit me to do it with the most earnest assurances
ofthe respect and attachment with which I am, &c.
Saml. Romilly.

Letter L.
TO THE SAME. ^
Abergavenny, April 18. 1789.
I write to you, Madam, from a place, the name
of which is, I fancy, hardly known to you. It is a
little town on the borders of Wales, which I have
hurried to from the circuit in order to pass a week
with my sister. She has lately come hither for the
sake of her children's breathing the pure air which
blows from the Welsh mountains, and enjoying
the pleasures which this beautiful country affords.
It is the most beautiful that I have seen in Eng
land, or any where else, except in Switzerland.
Indeed, it very much resembles some parts of
Switzerland, but every thing is on a smaller scale ;
the mountains are less high, the rocks less craggy,
and the torrents less rapid. The valleys are per
fectly Swiss, and are enchanting : scattered over
with villages and farm houses, and portioned out
into a multitude of small fields, they bespeak a
happy equality of property, and transport one back
in idea to the infancy of society. You will easily
imagine that, at this time ofthe year, I cannot have
z 3

342 CORRESPONDENCE WITH April,
seen this country to its greatest advantage. We
have had a very long winter ; it has quitted us
little more than a week ago, and though the sum
mer has burst upon us all at once, yet the trees are
but just beginning to put out their leaves ; and,
though the outline of the landscape may be seen,
all its colouring, except the rich verdure of the
fields, is wanting. But the most beautiful objects
in this country, and which are in a great degree
independent of the season, are the health, the
cheerfulness, and the contentment which appear
on the countenances ofthe inhabitants.
The poor people here have a custom which I
never knew observed any where else, and which is
very poetical, and very affecting. Once a year
(on Palm Sunday) they get tip early in the
morning, and gather the violets and primroses,
and the few other flowers which at this season are
to be found in the fields, and with their little har
vest they hasten to the churchyard, and strew the
flowers over the graves of their nearest relations.
Some arrange their humble tribute of affection in
different forms with a great deal of taste. The
young girls, who are so fortunate as never to have
lost any near relation or any friend, exert them
selves that the tombs of the strangers who have
died in the village, at a distance from all who knew
them, may not be left unhonoiired ; and hardly a
grave appears without some of these affectionate
ornaments. I came here soon after this ceremony
had been observed, and was surprised on walking
through a churchyard, to find in it the appearance
of a garden ; and to see the flowers withering each

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. S43
in the place in which it had been fixed. I have
been the more delighted with my excursion hither,
from the contrast it forms to the noise, the hurry,
the crowd, and the contentions of the courts I have
just quitted. What would I not have given to
have been able to transport your family hither ; to
have enjoyed their company in this charming spot;
and to have had the pleasure of introducing my
sister to you! But all that is impossible.
I am very much indebted to Miss D  for
the news which she sends me respecting French
politics, in which I take the greatest interest.
The question respecting the abolition ofthe slave
trade is to be discussed, in about ten days' time, in
the House of Commons ; and I am happy to find
that those who are concerned in the trade begin to
be very seriously alarmed. The society, which
has so strenuously exerted itself to procure the
abolition of the trade, wrote a letter some time
ago, to Mr. Necker, to entreat that he would en
deavour to procure the concurrence of the French
government with that of England in so laudable an
enterprise. Mr. Necker's answer was very flat
tering to them, but gave them so little reason to
hope for the concurrence of France, that they
thought it advisable not to publish it. The King
of Spain is giving additional encouragement to
the trade ; and the argument which is used with
most force here, and indeed the only argument
from which any thing can be feared, is that, by
our abolishing the trade, we shall give no relief to
the negroes, but only transfer to our neighbours
the advantages which we derived from that com-
z 4

344 CORRESPONDENCE WITH May,
merce. I believe that argument admits of a very
easy refutation ; but, if it did not, I should have
no objection to making such a transfer, when I
must at the same time transfer all the guilt of so
abominable a traffic.
I hear my friend, M. Dumont, is gone to Paris,
and I make no doubt he will have the honour of
waiting on you. There is no pleasure I envy him
so much, as that of seeing you and your family.
I beg to be remembered very affectionately to
them all, and have the honour to be, &c,
Saml. Romilly.

Letter LI.
TO M. DUMONT. i
Dear Dumont," Gray's Inn, May 15. 1789.
My conscience reproaches me for having
sent you so shabby a letter as my last, in return for
yours, which was so long and so very entertaining.2
I was quite delighted with it. You transported me
into the midst of the assembly of your district, and
I was as much amused as if I had been present.
I took the liberty of reading parts of your letter to
Trail and Wilson. We all agreed in admiring it,
and in abusing you, first for not employing your
talents in writing some useful work, and secondly, if
you wo'n't do that, for not writing me more Jetters.
i Mr. Romilly became acquainted with Mr. Dumont at Geneva, in
1781 (see ante, p. 58.), and an intimate friendship was maintained be
tween them up to the close of Mr. Romilly's life.
2 In this letter, dated April 28., Mr. Dumont had given a very long
and detailed account ofthe proceedings connected with the election of
deputies to the states-general.

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 345
I was in the House of Commons last Tuesday,
when Wilberforce opened the business of the slave
trade. He did it in an admirable speech, which
seemed to make a great impression on the House.
What he proposes is, that the trade should be totally
and immediately abolished. Pitt, Fox, Burke, and
Grenville (the Speaker of the House), all declared
that they were for a total abolition, and seemed to vie
with one another who should express in the strong
est terms his detestation of the trade. Fox says,
that it will certainly before long be abolished, and
the only question is, whether England shall have
the honour of setting so noble an example, or shall
wait to follow it in others : that he made no doubt
that the French would soon abolish the trade :
that, though he had often talked of the rivalship
of France, and professed himself a political enemy
to that country, yet God forbid that he should not
do justice to their national character ; and he did
not believe that there was any nation on earth who
would be more quick to catch a spark of such
noble enthusiasm, even from those whom they might
consider as their enemies, or who would be more
eager than they would to imitate our example.
Wilberforce, among other reasons which he gave
for believing that the trade which we abandoned
would not be taken up by the French, relied much
on the character of M. Necker, and particularly
on the passage in his book on Finance, where he
says that the only obstacle to the abolition of the
trade is that, if one nation abolished it, another
and perhaps a rival nation might take advantage
of their generosity. For,- when once England has

346 CORRESPONDENCE WITH May,
abolished the trade, France cannot have to fear
any thing from her rivals by abolishing it ; and it
is impossible to suppose that any man, much more
M. Necker, would consent to become so infamous
as he must, if, after having published this work, he
should attempt to take advantage of us, because
we had abolished the trade. But what gives us
better security than these arguments is, that the
trade cannot be carried on by France, but under
much greater disadvantages even than those under
which it is carried on by us ; for the commodities
proper for the African market are (at least the
greater part of them) manufactured better and
cheaper in England than any where else. A part
of Wilberforce's speech which I thought admirable
was, where he showed that the present barbarism
of Africa was to be ascribed principally, if not
solely, to this trade ; which, by making it the in
terest of the native princes to wage war perpetually
with one another, and to plunder and carry away
their own subjects, and which, by destroying all
mutual confidence among the native subjects, and
encouraging men to enslave their neighbours and
parents to sell their children, prevented any im
provement in manners or civilisation. Burke, in
speaking of this trade, described it very truly, very
concisely, and with great energy. He said that it
was a trade, which began by violence and war, was
continued by the most dreadful imprisonment, and
ended in exile, slavery, and death. Among the
speakers, none did more service to the cause whidh
we have so much at heart,, than those who spoke
against it. All they did was to use invectives, to1

J789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 347
insist that the statements which had been made
were misrepresentations, to call Wilberforce's pro
positions reveries, and to rely on objections which
had been answered and on arguments which had
been refuted. A few days before this debate came
on, a petition was presented to the House of Com
mons by a great many of the manufacturers of
Sheffield, stating that they were' greatly interested
that the slave trade should not be abolished, the
principal manufactures employed in that trade
being made by them ; but declaring that they were
desirous that no regard might be had to their in
terests, but that they might be readily sacrificed
and the trade abolished. There seems the greatest
probability that the Bill for the abolition will pass
the Commons ; but it is to be expected from the
enemies to it, that they will throw every obstacle
they can in the way of it ; and that, by bringing a
multitude of witnesses to the bar of the House,
they will delay the business till the next session,
when all will be to begin again. What opposition
may be made to the Bill when it gets into the
House of Lords cannot be foreseen ; however, I
think it is certain that in three or four years to
come, at farthest, this trade will no longer disgrace
England.1 Mr. Frazer, is, or will very soon be, at Paris.
He will call on you. If Rousseau's Confessions
are published by that time, pray do not fail to send
them to me by him. I wish much too to see
Necker' s speech to the states.
1 It continued,. however, till 1806, when.it was abolished by the
Whig administration.

348 CORRESPONDENCE WITH May,
Have you read Voltaire's posthumous letters ?
What do you think of them ? We talk of you very
often in Frith Street, and long to see you. If you
don't come back soon, pray write me another of
your long letters. I am sure you would conquer
your idleness, if you knew how much pleasure they
give me. I write to you in a very great hurry.
Pray give my compliments to Mr. Claviere, and
to all his family, to M. de la Roche, and to M.
and Madc. Mallet. The family of Made. D  - I
fear have quitted Paris. Yours most sincerely, S. R.
Letter LII.
FROM M. DUMONT.
Paris, 22 Mai, 1789.
Je viens de recevoir votre lettre, mon cher
Romilly, et je suis charme qu'un scrupule de con
science m'ait valu l'interessante relation de ce qui
-s'est passe dans la Chambre des Communes re-
lativement a la traite. J'avois oublie de vous dire
que je m'etois fait agreger a la Societe des Amis des
Noirs a Paris, pour voir par moi-meme de quel
esprit elle etoit animee, et de quoi l'on pouvoit
Letter LII. Paris, May 22. 1789.
I have just received your letter, my dear Romilly, aud I am delighted
that a scruple of conscience should have procured me the interesting
account of what took place in the House of Commons on the subject
of the slave trade. I had forgotten to tell you that I had joined the
Society of the Friends of the Negroes at Paris, that I might myself see
the spirit which animated them, and what might be expected from them.

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 349
se flatter. C'est un foible commencement ; elle a
environ cent souscripteurs, et la plupart de ceux
qui la composent sont des grands seigneurs ou des
hommes de lettres, qui peut-etre ne desinteressent
pas assez leur amour propre, et ne s'occupent pas
assez de la chose elle-meme. Tout est formalite
dans l'assemblee ; leur maniere de recueillir les
opinions est si mauvaise que la moindre question
traine durant des heures, etl'ennui m'en a toujours
chasse avant la fin de la discussion.
Cette societe, toute foible qu'elle est, a cause de
l'ombrage a des planteurs, qui l'ont denoncee au
Roi, mais ils ont ete bien dqsappointes. '" Tant
mieux," a-t-il repondu ; " je suis char me qu'il y
ait dans mes etats quelques honnetes gens qui s'oc
cupent du sort de ces pauvres negres." Ce mot a
donne un peu plus de vigueur a. nos philanthropes.
II faut esperer qu'on fera ici par emulation ce
qu'on aura fait en Angleterre par principe.
Les Confessions de Rousseau ne paroissent pas ;

It is a small beginning ; there are about a hundred members, most of
whom are men of rank or men of letters, who perhaps do not sufficiently
set- aside their personal vanity, and do not attend sufficiently to the
object itself. All is formality at their meetings ; their mode of col
lecting the opinions of the members is so bad, that the most trivial
question drags on for hours together, and I have always been driven
away by ennui, before the end of the discussion.
This society, feeble as it is, has given umbrage to some of the
planters, who have complained of it to the King, but they have had
little reason to be pleased with his answer. " So much the better " he
replied ; " I am delighted to hear that there are some honest men in
my kingdom, who have taken up the cause of these poor negroes."
This answer has infused a little more spirit into our philanthropists, and
it is to be hoped that emulation will do here what in England will have
been done on principle.
Rousseau's Confessions are not yet published. I hear nothing more

350 CORRESPONDENCE WITH June,
je n'en ai plus entendu parler, mais ce que je vous
ai mande a cet egard est certain. J'ai lii quelques
unes des lettres posthumes de Voltaire ; elles ne
sont pas fort interessantes ; il faut en acheter une
bonne par vingt mauvaises. Le regne de Voltaire
est passe, excepte au theatre. Rousseau s'eleve a
mesure que l'autre s'abaisse. La posterite sera bien
etonnee qu'on les ait regardes comme rivaux.
Mes complimens a MM. Trail et Wilson ; ils
devroient bien venir passer l'ete a Paris ; je crois
qu'ils y passeroient six semaines d'une maniere fort
agreable. — Adieu, mon cher Romilly ; aimez-moi
comme je vous aime. Et. D.

Letter LIII.
TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, London, June 9. 1789.
I return you many thanks for your long and
very entertaining letter of the 3d of this month.
It has given me as much pleasure as I could possi
bly have received from the scenes themselves which

said about them ; but what I wrote to you on the subject is correct '
I have read some of Voltaire's posthumous letters ; they are not very
interesting; it is at the expence of twenty that are bad that one has to
get at one that is good. Voltaire's reign is over, except at the theatre.
Rousseau rises in proportion as the other sinks, and posterity will be
much astonished at their having been considered as rivals.
My compliments to Messrs. Trail and Wilson ; they should come
and pass the summer at Paris ; I think they would spend six weeks
there very agreeably. Farewell, my dear Romilly, &c. &c.
Et.D.

1789, M. DUMONT, JETC. 351
it describes, if I had been present at them. The in
conveniences of debating in so tumultuous a manner
are terrible ; they render me quite impatient that the
papers I sent the Count de Sarsfield should be pub
lished.1 Perhaps they would do no good ; but, how
ever, there is at least a chance of their doing good.
Mirabeau is probably so much engaged with the
politics ofthe day, that you must not speak to him
of any other subject. If you may, I wish you
would tell him, that, upon my return last autumn
from Paris, I told Mr. Vaughan and Sir Gilbert
Elliot that he said he would send each of them a
copy of his Monarchic Prussienne, and that they
have neither of them received one. I wish Mirabeau
may be induced by the noble opportunity which he
now has of making the most distinguished figure,
and rendering a most essential service to mankind,
— I wish he may be induced to avoid provoking so
many enemies as he has hitherto done. He should
remember that he at the same time makes them
enemies to his principles, and consequently to the
good of mankind.
I dined a few days ago at Mr. V.'s. Lord W.
was there. The abolition of the slave trade was
the subject of conversation, as itis indeed of almost
all conversations. I was sorry to find that Lord W.
is not a friend to it. I make no doubt that he
looks upon me as a mad enthusiast ; and, to speak
the truth, I cannot boast of having shown much
coolness in the conversation : but I every day hear
1 An account of these papers is given at p. 101. They consisted of a
statement of the rules and forms of proceeding of the English House
of Commons, and were intended to serve as a model for the French
Assembly, which met at Versailles on the 5th of May.

352 CORRESPONDENCE WITH June,
such arguments used upon the subject as no human
patience can endure. You have seen the repre
sentation of a slave-ship. Can you believe it pos
sible, after having seen that representation, the
truth of which it is easy to ascertain with a pair of
compasses, that any man should be found capable
of giving such an account as I here transcribe of
an African voyage ? " In the interval between
breakfast and dinner, the negroes are supplied with
the means of amusing themselves, after the man
ner of their country, with musical instruments ;
the song and dance are encouraged and promoted ;
the men play and sing, whilst the boys dance for
their amusement ; the women and girls divert
themselves in the same way, and amuse themselves
with arranging fanciful ornaments for their persons
with beads  When tired of music and dancing,
they go to games of chance. The women are sup
plied with beads, which they make into ornaments,
and the utmost attention is paid to the keeping up
their spirits, and to indulge them in all their little
humours." Such is the evidence which two
African captains have not been ashamed to give
before the Privy Council. Some other witnesses
however are examined ; one, a surgeon, who speaks
of what he himself saw. " It was usual," he says,
" to make the slaves dance, in order that they
might exercise their limbs, and preserve health.
This was done by means of a cat-o'-nine tails, with
which they were driven about among one another,
one of their country drums beating at the same
time ; on these occasions they were compelled to
sing, the cat being brandished over them for that

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 353
purpose. He sometimes heard the women among
themselves singing, but always at those times in
tears. Their songs contained the history of their
lives, and their separation from their friends and
country. These songs were very disagreeable to
the captain ; he has sometimes flogged the women,
for ho other reason than this, in so terrible a manner,
that the witness has been a fortnight healing the
incisions." It appears by the Report of the Privy
Council that the crimes for which men are made
slaves in Africa are frequently those of witchcraft,
and that for witchcraft the punishment involves
the whole family of the person convicted.
Trail and Wilson desire their compliments to
you ; they will thank you to inquire which is the
best French Journal that they can take in, in order
to have an account of the proceedings ofthe States.
Is Mirabeau's ! regularly continued ? the last num
ber you sent me comes no lower down than the
1 1th May. It was reported here that even these
letters to his commettans were suppressed.
Your friends in Frith Street, not forgetting your
little niece, desire to be very affectionately remem
bered to you.
1 Lettres de Mirabeau a ses Commettans, which afterwards attracted
great attention under the name of the Courrier de Provence. See
Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, by Dumont, chap. vi.

VOL. I. A A

354 CORRESPONDENCE WITH June,
Letter LIV.
FROM M. DUMONT.
Surene, pres Paris, 21 Juin, 1789.
Je vous envoye, mon cher Romilly, un ex
emplaire de la Traduction \ &c. ; vous en aurez
d'autres que je vous porterai moi-meme, car je ne
reste plus ici que pour voir deux ous trois seances
des trois ordres reunis, et juger s'ils s'inspireront
mutuellement assez de respect ou de terreur pour
s'assujettir a la discipline, et si, de l'emulation entre
les ordres, resultera le bien public. Quant a votre
ouvrage, il sera utile, les bons esprits le lisent avec
attention, mais son effet sera lent : ils ont tant de
vanit6 nationale, tant de pretention, qu'ils aimeront
mieux toutes les sottises de leur choix, que les re-
sultats de l'experience Britannique. Le temps
seul les eclairera sur les absurdites du reglement
de police qui est en projet, et ils s'accoutumeront
Letter LIV.
Surene, near Paris, June 21. 1789.
I send you, my dear Romilly, one copy ofthe Translation*, &c. ;
I will myself bring you others ; for I shall only remain here to see one
or two meetings after the union of the three orders, and to determine
whether they will inspire each other with sufficient respect or fear to
submit to control, and whether, from emulation between the different
orders, public good can arise. As to your work, it will be useful ; the
well-disposed read it with attention, but its effect will be slow. The
French have so much national vanity, so much pretension, that tliey
will prefer all the follies of their own choosing to the results of En
glish experience. Time alone will enlighten them on the absurd
ities of the police regulations which are in contemplation, and will

' A translation of the papers mentioned in the preceding letter.

J789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 355
a l'idee, qui les revoke, d'emprunter quelque chose
de votre gouvernement qui est ici respue comme
un des opprobres de la raison humaine : quoique
Ton convienne que vous avez deux ou trois belles
loix ; mais il est insoutenable que vous ayez la
presomption de dire que vous avez une consti
tution. Cependant il faut convenir que la jalousie
nationale a ete clairvoyante, et leur a tres-bien fait
decouvrir qu'il y avoit une grande distance de la
theorie de Montesquieu et de De Lolme a la pra
tique reelle, a l'etat vrai des choses. J'ai revu la
traduction, mais ce fut un travail fort rapide, une
revision avec l'homme dont vous connoissez la tur-
bulente impatience ; vous ne serez juge que des
fautes qui restent, et non de celles que j'ai fait dis-
paroitre, et cette comparaison seule pourroit me
meriter un peu d'indulgence.
Mille amities, je vous prie, a nos amis communs.
Je suis fort presse pour finir.
Aimez-moi comme je vous aime.
Et. Dumont.
accustom them to the idea now so revolting to them, of borrowing
any thing from^ your government, which is here repudiated as a
reproach to human reason. It is, indeed, admitted that you have
two or three fine laws ; but then you have the unwarrantable pre
sumption to assert that you have a constitution. Nevertheless, it must
be allowed that the national jealousy has been clear-sighted, and has
very properly made them discover that there is a wide difference be
tween the theory of Montesquieu and De Lolme and actual practice
— the real state of things. I have gone through the translation ;
but revising, with a man whose boisterous impatience you well know,
was hurried work.' You can only judge of the faults which remain,
and not of those which I have struck out ; and yet this comparison
alone can entitle me to any indulgence. Best remembrances to our
mutual friends. Yours, in haste, &c.
Et. Dumont.
A A 2

356 CORRESPONDENCE WITH July,
Letter LV. f
TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, July 28. 1789.
I sit down to write a few lines to you as fast
as I can, before I set out on the circuit, which will
be early to-morrow morning. I shall return in
about a fortnight, and how I shall dispose of myself
during the vacation is yet uncertain. It is true
that you have written me some very long letters,
but that was long ago. Since affairs have been in
such a state in France as must make every man
who has the least humanity impatient for news, you
have not let me hear from you once.
I am sure I need not tell you how much I have
rejoiced at the Revolution which has taken place. I
think of nothing else, and please myself with endea
vouring to guess at some of the important conse
quences which must follow throughout all Europe.
I think myself happy that it has happened when I am
of an age at which I may reasonably hope to live to
see some of those consequences produced. It will
perhaps surprise you, but it is certainly true, that
the Revolution has produced a very sincere and
very general joy here. It is the subject of all con
versations ; and even all the newspapers, without
one exception, though they are not conducted by
the most liberal or most philosophical of men, join
in sounding forth the praises of the Parisians, and
in rejoicing at an event so important for mankind.
Pray congratulate Mirabeau on my behalf; tell

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 357
him that I admire and envy him the noble part he is
acting. The force of truth obliges me to say this,
though I am really offended with him (and I wish
you would tell him so), for having very wantonly
bestowed on me a very undeserved panegyric.1
The book in which it is contained is certainly,
upon the whole, well translated,; but there are
some errors in it which I would correct, and send
you or him the corrections, if I thought there were
any probability of its passing through a second
edition. You have never sent me the third and fourth
letter of Mirabeau to his constituents ; I wish
you would get them for me to complete my set.
When is Mr. Claviere's great work to appear ?
I don't know whether I told him not by any means
to use the name of Dr. Price as an authority for
the information he communicated to him through
me. Be so good, therefore, as to tell him that Dr.
Price be!gs he may not be named.
My brother and sister beg to be very affection
ately remembered to you. They think we should
all be happier, sitting in their little parlour in Frith
Street, than being spectators of tbe revolutions in
France, and the tragedies which attend them.
We have just heard the news of the murder of
Foulon and his son-in-law, which no doubt every
body, and chiefly the friends of the people, must
1 The following is the passage alluded to : — " Je clois ce travail
entrepris uniquement pour la France, a un Anglais qui, jeune encore
a merite une haute reputation, et que ceux dont il est particulierement
connu fegardent comme une des esperances de sons pays. C'est un
de ces philosophes respectables, dont le civisme ne se borne point a la
Grande Bretagne," &c. See Dumont's Tactique des Assemb. Lemslal
vol. i p. 285. 2d edit.
A A 3

358 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Aug.
consider as a very unfortunate event. Adieu!
Believe me to be, with unalterable affection,
Yours, &c. S. R.
Letter LVI.
FROM MLLE. d — .
Paris, 27 Aout, 1789.
Si vous avez pu croire que c'etoit par
oubli ou par negligence que nous n'avons pas
repondu a vos dernieres lettres, Monsieur, et que
nous avons garde un si long silence, vous nous
avez fait une grande injustice. La multitude de
scenes, d'idees, d'evenemens, par lesquels nous
avons passe, nous ont cause tant d'agitations, que,
meme en pensant plus que jamais a nos amis, il
etoit impossible de leur ecrire. Combien de fois,
Monsieur, vous avez ete present a mon esprit,
pendant ces trois mois qui feront epoque dans ma
vie, par tant de raisons. C'est a vous, Monsieur,
que j'ai besoin de parler de la Suisse ; personne
ici ne m'entend, et je sais bien que vous m'en-
Letter LVI. Paris, August 27. 1789.
If you can have believed that it has been through forgetfulness
or neglect that we have not answered your last letters, Sir, and that
we have so long been silent, you have done us great injustice; The
multitude of scenes, of ideas, of events through which we have passed,
has thrown us into a state of so much agitation, that whilst we have
thought more than ever of our friends, we have found it impossible
to write to them. How often have you been present to my mind,
during the last three months, which, for so many reasons, will form
an epoch in my life ! It is to you, Sir, that I must turn when I
would talk about Switzerland} no one here understands me; and I

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 359
tendrez, me comprendrez, car vous connoissez ce
pays favorise du Ciel, et vous etiez digne de le
parcourir. Je n'ai ete que dans une bien petite
partie de la Suisse, mais j'en ai vu assez pour juger
de tout ce que la nature y a accumule de grand,
de beau, de sublime, pour l'admiration des ames
sensibles. J'ai eprouve la des sensations qui
m'etoient inconnues, et en verite trop delicieuses ;
car elles m'ont laisse beaucoup trop de regrets
d'etre destinee a vivre si loin des objets ravissans
qui les causoient. J'ai visite cette ile1 ou Rous
seau a joui de quelques mois de bonheur, du seul
qui etoit fait pour lui, auquel il etoit accessible,
celui qu'il trouvoit dans la contemplation de la
nature et de lui-meme. Nous y avons retrouve
encore ce meme calme dont il a su si bien jouir,
qu'il a su si bien peindre, et qu'il a si vainement
recherche depuis. J'ai vu Geneve, encore dans
une ivresse, ou, si vous voulez, une illusion de bon-

am well aware that you will, and will feel with me on this subject; for
you know that country, so favoured by Heaven, and you were worthy
to know it. I have only been in a very small part of Switzerland ;
but I have seen enough to form an idea of all the grandeur, the beauty,
the sublimity which nature has there thrown together for the ad
miration of men of feeling. I there felt emotions to which I was
before a stranger, and which, indeed, were too delightful ; for they have
left behind them too much regret that I should be destined to live so
far from the enchanting scenes which called them forth. I visited that
island i where Rousseau enjoyed * few months of happiness, the only
happiness which was made for him, and to which he was accessible, that
which he found in the contemplation of nature and of himself. We
found there the same tranquillity which he knew so well how to enjoy
and to describe, and which he has so vainly sought for since. I saw
Geneva, which was still in an intoxication, or, if you will, a dream of

1 L'ile de Saint Pierre, in the middle ofthe Lake of Bienne.
A A 4

360 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Aug.
heur, qu'il seroit cruel et barbare de detruire et de
troubler. J'ai vu dans le canton de Berne, sous
un gouvernement hai'ssable par ses formes, mais
doux dans ses effets, un peuple tranquille et
heureux, garanti par son aisance et sa prosperite,
encore mieux que par ses montagnes, des orages
et des revolutions qui desolent d'autres contrees.
C'est au milieu de ces vallees fortunees, ou le
bonheur doit etre bien plus facile, puisqu'il y est
depouille de tant de biens factices, c'est Ja ou il
seroit si doux de vivre et d'oublier le reste du
monde, que la nouvelle des desastres de la France
est venue m'atteindre. Quoique la succession la
plus inconcevable d'evenemens inesperes ait en-
suite un peu calme nos alarmes, nous avions un
trop grand besoin de venir rejoindre tout ce qui
nous etoit cher, pour continuer paisiblement notre
voyage. Nous 1'avons done precipite, et nous
sommes depuis peu de jours de retour au sein de
notre famille, encore emues du bonheur d'avoir

happiness, which it would be cruel and barbarous to destroy or disturb.
I saw in the canton of Berne, under a government hateful in its forms,
but gentle in its effects, a happy and contented people, sheltered by
the comfort and prosperity of their condition, still more than by their
mountains, from the storms and revolutions by which other countries
are laid waste. It was in the midst of those favoured valleys, where
happiness is the more accessible that it is there stript of so many
factitious pleasures, — it was there, where it would be so delightful
to live and to forget the rest of the world, that the news of the dis
asters of France reached me. Although the most inconceivable suc
cession of unhoped-for events has since, in some degree, allayed our
fears, we felt too strongly the want of being reunited to all that was
dear to us, to continue our journey in peace. We accordingly hastened
our return, and have now been some days at home in the bosom of
our family, and are still under the joyful emotion of having found so

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 361
retrouve tant d'objets cheris, preserves de tous
maux, au milieu de tant de dangers.
Je ne vous dirai aucune nouvelle, Monsieur ; vous
etes mieux informe surement que peut-etre je ne
le suis moi-meme. L'inquietude est encore le senti
ment^ dominant, et surtout sur l'objet des finances.
Mais les biens dont nous allons jouir, ne sauroient
etre trop achetes ; on se fera gloire meme des
soucis et des peines dont on les payera. Et vous,
Monsieur, qui seriez si digne de voir de pres le spec
tacle interessant qu'offre la France dans ce moment,
celui d'un grand peuple qui veut rentrer dans ses
droits naturels que les institutions sociales avoient
effacees depuis si longtems, ne viendrez-vous point ?
Jamais de plus grands motifs n'attirerent sur le
Continent, et, en verite, si vous y resistez, je ne
sais a quelle hauteur je placerai ce degre de vertu.
J'attends au moins, Monsieur, de votre amitie,
une lettre de vous. Je n'en ai jamais si vivement
souhaite, pour savoir votre opinion de ce qui se
passe ici. Veuillez nous faire part de quelques
many objects of our love, preserved from all harm in the midst of so-
many dangers.
I shall send you no news, Sir, for you are, no doubt, as well informed,
perhaps better than I am, myself. Anxiety is still the prevailing feel
ing, especially on the subject of finance. But the blessings which we
are going to enjoy can scarcely be too dearly purchased; we shall
even glory in the cares and privations by which we shall have paid
for them. And you, Sir, who are so worthy to be a near spectator
of the interesting spectacle which France exhibits at this moment,
that of a great people re-assuming their natural rights, which social
institutions had so long obliterated, will not you come ? Never
was there a stronger motive to draw men to the Continent ; and in
truth, if you resist the temptation, I know not at what height I
shall place this degree of virtue. At least, Sir, I trust to your
friendship for ajetter; I never before so strongly wished for one that
I may hear your opinion on what is passing here. Pray impart to us

362

CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.

unes de vos reflexions ; j'ai encore bien plus d'envie
de vous entendre sur la France, que je n'avois de
besoin de vous parler de la Suisse.
Recevez, Monsieur, &c.

Letter LVII.
FROM »m. TRAIL."
Dear Romilly, Paris, Oct. 18. 1789.
You will see that Mirabeau has proposed a
Jaw for the suppression of riots, similar in many
respects to our Riot Act. It is intended by him
to be much milder ; and Dumont wishes extremely
to have an accurate statement of the English law
on that subject I believe he has the Riot Act ;
but I think there are many cases in which the civil
magistrate employs force, and military force where
he has it, without going through the forms pre
scribed by that statute. If the mob are actually
committing a felony, may not the magistrate, or
even any person whatever, disperse them by force ?
In 1780, immediately after the riots, Lord Mansfield
stated the law in the House of Lords, which ap
peared to many to give more power to the magis
trates than- it was supposed did legally belong to
them ; but the Chancellor approved of every thing

some of your reflections ; I have a still greater desire to hear from
you about France, than I had to write to you about Switzerland.
I am. &c.

1 For an account of Mr. Trail, and the origin of Mr. R.'s intimacy
with him, see infra, note to letter of Sept.21. 1791.

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC.

363

he said : and if you could transmit to Dumont a
copy of that speech, which you will find in the
Parliamentary Register, he will be greatly obliged
to you. The sooner you do it the better.
I have seen but little of the National Assembly,
and I am afraid that I shall see little more. It is
supposed the members will not venture to regulate
the admission of strangers by tickets, or in any other
way ; but will permit the vacant space to be filled by
such as come first. I was in the assembly on Tues
day evening, all Wednesday, and on Thursday fore
noon, when they adjourned till Monday at Paris.
Mirabeau spoke a few sentences with great pre
cision, and like a man of business : he has an im
posing and dictatorial manner, with an air of su
periority and self-sufficiency. I heard a short
speech from Volney, which I liked on account of
the temper and delicacy with which he reproached
the Assembly for "changing, inconsiderately, the
order of the day. The sudden departure of the
Duke of Orleans is the only topic of conversation
among all ranks, ages, and sexes, so far as I know.
The most prevailing report is, that the Ministry
got evidence of his being engaged in some con
spiracy, and offered him the alternative of a trial,
or a pretext for withdrawing out of the kingdom.
The object of his plot, according to some, was to
put himself upon the throne by the most violent
and sanguinary means ; according to others, to get
himself declared Regent, in case the King should
withdraw, or should, by any other means, be re
moved from the government. It is confidently
asserted that they can prove his liaving distributed

364

CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct..

large sums of money among the people : perhaps
from this single fact the other reports have arisen.
For my own part, having no authority for any of
the stories, 1 believe none. I am the more in
clined to scepticism, that I perceive every body
suspecting a plot in every accidental circumstance
that occurs. It is difficult to decide which of the
parties are most credulous and suspicious. I have
read almost all the printed accounts of the late ex
cursion 2 to Versailles, and have conversed with
several persons who were about the palace at the
arrival of the Parisians, and, after all, I cannot
make out a consistent story. It is certain the Paris
militia, preceded by several hundred women, went
to Versailles ; that a few of the Gardes du Corps
were killed, and one or two women ; and that they
prevailed on the King to come with his family to
reside in the capital. It is equally certain that the
officers of the Gardes du Corps gave, some days
before, a great entertainment to a great number of
military people at Versailles ; that the King per
mitted them to use the Opera House, and he and
the Queen and Dauphin visited them after dinner,
and conversed familiarly with them ; and that
during this entertainment, some rash and violent
expressions were used, the national cockade laid
aside, and the black one resumed. This example
was beginning to be followed hy some military men
at Paris ; and, added to this, bread became unac
countably scarce, and for a day or two was hardly
to be got at all. The removal of the National
Assembly will bring things, I should imagine, to a
1 On the 5th and 6th of October.

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC.

365

crisis. If the people do not disturb their deliber^
ations, all will go well ; if they do, the King and
they must, with the support of the municipality,
endeavour, once for all, to restore energy to the
laws ; and if they fail, it is in vain to conjecture the
consequences. This morning I saw his JMajesty
walking in the Champs Elysees, without guards.
He seemed easy and cheerful. He passed along the
line of 5000 or 6000 ofthe Paris militia, who are
reviewed there every Sunday. Dumont is at the
Hotel Royal, Rue Neuve St. Marc. I have not
seen him since he came from Versailles, although
we have been in search of each other. Yours, J. T.
Letter LVIII.
FROM M. DUMONT.
Paris, 19 Octobre, 1789.
Eh bien, mon cher Romilly, vous l'aviez
prevu ; nous le disions ensemble ; rien n' etoit fini ;
I'horizon etoit trouble. Vous avez vu un insipide
entr'acte, et a peine etiez vous parti 1 que la scene
est devenue tres-interessante et tres-animee. Vous
Letter LVIII. Paris, October 19.1789.
Well, my dear Romilly, you foresaw it. We both said so ;
nothing was concluded ; the horizon was overcast. You saw an in
sipid interlude, and you were hardly gone1 when the scene became
very interesting and very animated. You do not ask me for details ;
1 Mr. Romilly had spent the greater part of the months of August
and September of this year at Paris. See ante, p. 104 — 112.

366 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.
ne me demandez pas des details ; ceux qui peuvent
etre publies sont partout ; ceux qu'il faut dire en
confidence, il ne faut pas les envoyer par la poste.
Vous me demandez mon opinion sur la revo
lution. Helas ! mon ami, que puis-je vous dire ?
Cette terre-ci est tellement volcanique, les mouve-
mens sont si soudains, l'autorite si foible, qu'on a
lieu de redouter ce sejour ' pour I'Assemblee Na
tionale. Plusieurs provinces sont blessees de la con-
duite de Paris, et regardent les quinze mille ambas-
sadeurs armes, envoyes a Versailles, comme un
attentat qui interesse tout le royaume. Les autres
croyent que la capitale est I'osil de la France,
comme le dit M. de Warville, et que sa vigilance a
sauve la liberte d'une conspiration plus hardie que
la premiere. L'une de ces conspirations est aussi
bien prouvee que l'autre ; et vous savez mon avis
sur la precedente. Des mecontens, des imprudens,

indeed, those which can be published are to be had every where, those
which must be told in confidence must not be sent by the post.
You ask me my opinion of the revolution. Alas ! my friend, what
can I say ? The ground on which we stand is so volcanic, all our
movements are so sudden, all constituted authority so weak, that
one cannot but dread the present abode ' for the National Assembly.
Several of the provinces are offended at the conduct of Paris, and
look upon the march of the 15,000 armed ambassadors to Versailles
as an outrage which concerns the whole kingdom. The other pro
vinces look upon the capital as " the eye of France," to use M. de
Warville's expression, and believe that its vigilance has preserved our
liberty from a much bolder conspiracy than the first. The evidence
upon which both conspiracies rest is of the same value, and vou know
my opinion of the first. Discontented men, imprudent ones, ill-disposed

i The National Assembly had removed from Versailles to Paris after
the 5th and 6th of October.

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 367
des malveillans, des ennemis de la liberte, des cour-
tisans corrompus, des gens qui voudroientbien avoir
assez de moy ens pour mal faire — assez de caractere
pour etre dangereux — il y a de tout cela ; mais
des conspirateurs, des chefs, des projetssuivis, une
marche souterraihe, une reunion d'efforts, de vues,
de personnes, voila ce qui n'existe pas, ou du moins
ce qui n'est pas prouve. La conduite future de Paris,
le sentiment des provinces, voila deux donnees qui
me manquent pour asseoir mon jugement. Si les
deputes sont insultes, s'ils ne sont pas libres, vous
prevoyez bien qu'ils fuiront les uns apres les autres.
La desertion est deja tres-considerable, et ils n'ont
vu qu'avec la plus vive douleur leur translation a
Paris. Les plus zeles republicains en ont pense a
cet egard a-peu-pres comme les autres.
Des que je verrai M. de Mirabeau, je lui rendrai
fidelement votre commission. Vous pouvez comp
ter que Trail vous portera ce que vous demandez,
excepte les deux cahiers arrieres du Courrier de

people, enemies of liberty, corrupt courtiers, creatures who long for
ability enough to do mischief — determination enough to be dangerous,
— all this we have ; but as for conspirators, leaders, settled designs,
deep-laid plots, a concert of efforts, views, or persons, nothing of this
exists, or, at least, nothing is less established by evidence. The future
conduct of Paris, and the feeling of the provinces, are data without a
knowledge of which it is difficult to form a judgment. If the deputies
should be insulted, if they should not be free, it is clear that they will
desert their post, one after the other. This desertion is already very
considerable, and it was with the deepest sorrow that they beheld
their removal to Paris. On this subject the most zealous republicans
have thought much like the others.
As soon as I see M. de Mirabeau, I will faithfully deliver to him your
commission. You may rely upon Trail's bringing you what you ask
for, excepting the two numbers of the Courrier de Provence in arrear, be-

368 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.
Provence, parceque ma maudite memoire a laisse
echapper les Nos. ; mais cette omission sera bi
entot reparee.
L'affaire des negres n'est pas mure, mais je
vous assure qu'elle n'est point negligee ; et il me
paroit encore probable qu'elle sera traitee meme
dans cette session. Le Due de la Rochefoucauld
est tres-instant la-dessus. Nous avons les papiers
dont vous parlez entre les mains, et ils iront a leur
destination premiere, ou retourneront dans les
votres. L'Eveque de Chartres et l'Abbe Sieyes m'ont
prie de vous faire leurs amities.
Et. D.
Letter LIX.
TO MADAME D  .

London, Oct. 20. 1789.
It was with great concern and anxiety,
Madam, that I learned the events which passed at
Paris and Versailles, soon after I left them. Those
events were related here with circumstances so
alarming, that it was impossible not to feel great
uneasiness for those dear friends whom I had left
cause my confounded memory has allowed the numbers to escape me;
but the omission shall be soon repaired.
The question of the negroes is not yet ripe, but I assure you that it
is kept alive ; and I still think it likely that it will be discussed even
this session. The Duke de la Rochefoucauld is very earnest about it.
The papers of which you speak are with us, and they shall either go to
their original destination, or be returned into your hands.
The Bishop of Chartres and the Abbe Sieyes have begged that 1
would remember them to you. Et.D.

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC 369
at Paris, and of whom none are so near to my heart
as your family. It is astonishing how formidable
dangers appear at the distance of above two hun
dred miles, and when one sees them through that
cloud of uncertainty which attends all the early
accounts we have from Paris. I endeavoured to
comfort myself with supposing that those accounts
must be greatly exaggerated ; and so they have
proved to be. Still, however* I own that I am
much concerned at what has passed. I cannot but
think that the removal of the National Assembly
to Paris may be a source of great mischief; and I
fear for the freedom "of debate in the midst of a
people so turbulent, so quick to take alarm, and so
much disposed to consider the most trifling cir
cumstances as proofs of a conspiracy formed against
them as the Parisians seem to be, and, indeed, as
it is natural to suppose a people, so new to liberty;
would be. At any rate, I am vexed at seeing evert
the possibility of new obstacles arising to the esta
blishment of a free constitution in France ; not
that I suppose it possible that any obstacles can
prevent such a constitution being established ; but
they may delay it, and that alone, under the pre
sent circumstances of France, would be a dreadful
eviL I find the favour with which the popular cause
in France 'is considered here, much less than it
was when I quitted England. We begin to judge
you with too much severity ; "but the truth is, that
you taught us to expect too much, and that we are
disappointed and chagrined at not seeing those:
expectations fulfilled.
VOL. I. b B

370 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.
Our ministers have lately held a council on the
affairs of France, the result of which was, that
England should in no way interfere in them.
S. Romilly.

Letter LX.
TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, <*¦/¦ inn, Oct. 23. 1789.
I this morning received Trail's letter, in
which he says that you desire to be informed of
our law respecting the suppression of riots ; and I
sit down immediately to comply with your re
quest, though I believe Trail could have given you
a better account of it from his memory, than I can
from books. The Riot Act, he says, lie believes you
have, and that Mirabeau has in some degree taken
it for his guide. I am much surprised that he has,
for that act has always appeared to me to be a
very useless law. It makes the offence of persons
being riotously assembled together for the space of
an hour after proclamation has been made for them
to depart, punishable with death. This severity
was certainly never meant to be executed against
all who should expose themselves to it : the only
object was to hold out a terror ; although it ought
to have been foreseen that the circumstance of
the law not being executed would prevent its in
spiring terror. The effect of the law, certainly, has
not been to prevent riots, which have been at least
as frequent and as mischievous since as before the

1789. r M. DUMONT, ETC. 371
passing of it. One great absurdity in the act is,
that it is not calculated to disperse a mob imme
diately, and that nothing can be done under it for
an hour, although in that space of time the mischief
may have increased a hundred times. It is true
that the magistrates . in England do not wait pa
tiently for an hour before they take any steps to
suppress a riot ; but every thing which they do be
fore that time, they do by virtue of the powers
which they derive from older statutes, or from the
common law, and not from the Riot Act.
The powers which the justices have, independent
of the Riot Act, are these. Two justices of the
peace and the sheriff may, in order to suppress
riots which happen in their own county, either
within their own view or of which they have cre
dible information, raise the power of the county ;
that is, they may command all persons whatever
within the county, except women, clergymen, and
children under fifteen, to attend them and assist in
dispersing the rioters, arresting them and conduct
ing them to prison : and all persons who refuse 01
neglect to give such assistance are punishable by
fine and imprisonment. And if the justices or the
sheriff neglect to call for such assistance, when it
is necessary, they too are punishable in the same
manner. The persons so called on to assist are to
arm themselves ; and if they kill any of the rioters
-who make, resistance, they are justifiable. Besides
this, all persons whatever may act of their own
accord, and without the authority of any magi
strate, to suppress riots which they are themselves
witnesses of. Neither the Riot Act nor any other
b b 2

372 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.
statute declares on what occasion the magistrates
may call military force to their assistance ; nor, in
deed, is it anywhere said that the magistrates may
upon any occasion call in military force ; which I
mention, because it is generally supposed that the
justices have a right to call in the soldiers, after
they have made proclamation for people to depart.
The fact is, that the justices have power to com
mand the assistance of all the king's subjects, and
consequently they may command the assistance of
soldiers, who are subjects like^the rest; and this
they may do after proclamation by the Riot Act,
and before it by the older statutes.
This doctrine of soldiers being to be considered
as other subjects was heard by many persons with
great dissatisfaction when it was advanced by Lord
Mansfield and the Chancellor, in 1780. During
the riots of that time no proceedings whatever
were had under the Riot Act ; proclamation was
not anywhere made for the people to disperse, and
the soldiers acted without the direction of any
magistrate. Lord Mansfield and the Chancellor
asserted (and there can be no doubt that the law
is) that all persons might act to suppress riots,
and that, where felonies were being committed,
such as the burning of houses, &c, it was the duty
of all persons to do every thing in their power to
prevent those felonies, and to resist the persons
committing them, and that soldiers had this power
and were bound by this duty as well as other
men. I do not send you a copy of their speeches,
because they are long, but they amount to no
more than what I have told you.

1798. M. DUMONT, ETC. 373
There is one part of the Riot Act which seems
very wise ; it is that which makes the district in
which the riots have been committed liable to be
sued, by the persons whose houses or property
have been destroyed, for the amount of the loss ;
and which directs how, when that loss has been so
recovered, it shall be raised by a tax on the dis
trict. The effect of this is to make it the interest
of the inhabitants of every district that the peace
shall be preserved, and to render them more active
than they would otherwise be in suppressing riots.
It is possible I may be mistaken on some of the
information I send you, for I write in great haste :
if, therefore, you mean to make any use of it, show
my letter first to Trail, and he will probably be
able to correct my errors.
Pray, if you ever see the Bishop of Chartres and
the Abbe Sieyes, say a great many civil things to
them from me. I leave full scope to your genius.
I am quite impatient for the numbers of the
Courrier de Provence subsequent to 44.
Mirabeau promised me Helvetius's Letter on
Montesquieu; pray torment him for it, and send it
me if you can. I think the Address to the Consti
tuents on the Tax ofthe fourth part ofthe Income
admirable. If Trail be still at Paris,- tell him that
I am much obliged to him for giving me some
account of French politics ; and that I don't write
to him because no news can be worth receiving
from so dull a place as London, where the Duke
of Orleans is feasting with the Prince of Wales in
ignominious safety. Yours sincerely,
S. R.
B B 3

374 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Nov.
Letter LXI.
TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, Nov. 17. 1789.
As we cannot yet see you, I wish you to
make your stay at Paris as profitable as possible.
If it is not very profitable, I think your bookseller
must certainly cheat you. The Courrier de Pro
vence is become very fashionable in London; and
though the booksellers here make a profit of cent.
per cent, (for they charge half a guinea for a
month's subscription), yet I saw the other day, in
De Boffe's shop, a list of forty-five subscribers to it.
Among them were some persons of the first rank :
-the Duke of Portland, Lord Loughborough, Mr.
Grenville the Secretary of State, Lord Mount-
stuart, and many others whose names I don't re
collect. Elmsly has it too, and is a more fashion
able "Jbookseller than De Boffe. From all this I
concludedJiat there will very soon be a long Hst of
subscribers in London alone.
You know my opinion about the Ministers being
in the National Assembly ; I need not tell you
therefore, what I think of the question1 which has
been lately carried on that subject. They seem to
suppose the eloquence of a minister to be more
dangerous than that of any other man ; but the
1 The decree passed by the National Assembly on the 7th of No
vember, 1789, to the effect that no member of the representative body
should be capable of holding the situation of a Minister, as long as the
Assembly to which he belonged should be in existence. See Choix de
Rapports, Arc, vol. v. p. 177.

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 375
fact is that it is much less dangerous, because
he always speaks under the disadvantage of being
supposed to be interested in every question, and
all his words are weighed with peculiar distrust.
Upon the supposition that seems prevalent in
France, that a minister is, by virtue of his office,
an enemy to the public good, they ought to re
joice at having him in the Assembly, and that he
may fight against them in the face of day.
I was very sorry to see that large rewards had
been offered at Paris to persons who would make
discoveries of the conspirators in the plot supposed
to have been formed against the nation. If France
contains in it any such men as Bedloe and Titus
Oates, I fear that it is likely to be disgraced with
such scenes as were acted in England in the reign
of Charles IL, when a Popish plot was supposed
to have existed, when discoveries of pretended
conspiracies were every day made, and the most
infamous false accusers grew rich upon the public
terror and credulity, and the worst men in the
nation made some of the best instruments in the
foulest judicial murders.
I very much fear that the nation will follow the
example we have set them as to the support of the
poor ; and, having taken the possessions of the
clergy into their hands, and by that means de
prived the poor of that resource, will establish in
the place of it a certain provision. If that pro
vision is to be distributed according lo the discre
tion of persons in whom that trust may be reposed,
it is very well ; but if, as with us, any poor person
shall be enabled to demand support as a matter of
B b 4

376 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Nov.
right, and not be made dependent for it on the
judgment of other men, I am well satisfied that it
will be there, as it has been with us, a source of
much greater mischiefs than any it is intended to
prevent ; that it will prove a great check to in
dustry ; and will, in the end, produce greater
misery than would arise from the poor being left
to depend entirely on the casual bounty of the
charitable. Don't you think thednvention of having supple-
ants a very injudicious one ? The people should
form their judgment of a man at the moment he is
about to discharge a public duty, and not a long
time before. A man may enjoy the public con
fidence when he is named a suppliant, and may
have lost it totally long before he takes his seat in
the Assembly. Surely there is great inconveni
ence in such-a.man sitting as a new representative
of the people. With us, whenever 'the King ap
points a man to any office, his seat in Parliament
is vacated, and an appeal is in some sort made to
the people, whether the honour or the trust has
been properly bestowed ; and the people are called
upon to say whether, notwithstanding their repre
sentative is under personal obligations to the King,
they have confidence enough in him to continue
him their Minister. So appeals are sometimes
made from the House of Commons to the people :
as, where the House expels a Member, the people,
if they please, may re-elect him, and the House
must then receive him. This has been decided in
the case of Wilkes : but nothing of this kind can
ever happen in France; for the moment a seat

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 377
in the National Assembly has by any means be
come vacant, the suppliant succeeds to it.
I have not time to make this letter as long as I
intended, but I send it you ; for I don't know
when I shall have time to write again.
Yours affectionately, Saml. Romilly.

Letter LXII.
TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, 1st Dec. 1789.
After receiving so many letters from me,
you will no longer, I hope, pretend that I have not
as good a right as everybody else to reproach you
with your idleness.
Trail, who subscribes to the Courrier de Pro
vence, lends me the numbers of it as he gets them.
I am very much rejoiced that the law excluding
the children of bankrupts from voting for repre
sentatives in the National Assembly was not carried
in the manner it was proposed1, notwithstanding
that you and Duroveray seem so warmly to have
espoused it. Surely it is gross injustice to punish
a man for not paying a debt which he has not the
1 The proposition was that the children of bankrupts, who should
not, in the course of three years, have discharged that portion of their
fathers' debts with which they would have been chargeable in case they
had inherited property from him, should not be eligible to any council
or assembly, municipal, provincial, or national, or capable of exer
cising any judicial or municipal office. (See Moniteur, 1789, No. 78.)

378 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Dec.
means of paying, and which he never contracted.
That that law has produced all the happy effects
which were seen at Geneva, requires, I think, to be
proved. It might be very true that that law
existed, and that the people of Geneva were happy
and virtuous, without one being the cause of the
other ; and one might just as fairly conclude, be
cause in England we have a very unequal represent
ation of the people in Parliament, and yet the
perfect enjoyment of civil liberty, that these are to
each other cause and effect. I think you talk a
great deal too much of Geneva, and that you are
likely to prevent, rather than to promote the free
dom of the Republic, by so often dinning it in the
ears ofthe French. They will soon be as tired of
hearing you talk of your Geneva as they are of
hearing M. Necker talk of his integrity.
We have lately had an account of a most terrible
insurrection at Paris. The martial law was held,
we were told, in the utmost contempt ; every body
was under arms, and many lives had been lost.
The newspaper, called the TVorld, went so far as
to say, that the streets of Paris were streaming with
blood, and it concluded the account with saying,
that the King and Queen were yet alive. It ap
pears now that there is not a word of truth in all
this, except the conclusion. It is supposed to have
originated with the aristocratical refugees here,
who have great influence over our newspapers.
Calonne has the Times entirely to himself. It was
in allusion to that circumstance that one of the
Miss Norths the other day said of the report of
the insurrection, that it was une Calomnie ; a say-

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 379
ing which you have too pure a taste for puns not
to admire.
I hope you are seriously thinking of writing the
History of the Revolution, and preparing materials
for it. You will be unpardonable if you do not.
I assure you with the utmost sincerity that I don't
believe there is any man living capable of doing it
so well as yourself; and it certainly must be the
fault of the historian if it is not one of the most
interesting works that ever was composed. Pray
undertake it, and collect all the materials for it that
you can.
There seems to be an end of Joseph the Second
in the Low Countries to my inexpressible joy. l
It has been said in our newspapers that L 
discovered the Brussels plot to the Government,
and was seized to conceal his treachery. To judge
by the character of the man only, one would think
this probable. I have just received, from Lord
Lansdowne, the Courrier de Provence, from No. 56.
to 68. inclusive, for whieh I return you many
thanks. I have just received, too, the sequel2 of
Rousseau's Confessions, and am so impatient to
read them that I must conclude thus abruptly.
Yours very affectionately, S. Romilly.

i In the January following the Emperor lost all remains of au
thority in the Low Countries, and an independent confederacy was
Formed under the title of the United Belgic States.
2 The second part of the Confessions of Rousseau, containing the
account of his life subsequent to the year 1741. The first part, which
embraced only the twenty-nine first years of his life (from 1712 to
1741) was published (with the omission of the more objectionable
. passages) in>1781, three years after Rousseau's death.

380 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Dec.
LETTER LXIII.
FROM M. DUMONT.
[Paris,] Dec. 1789.
J'attendois une occasion pour vous ecrire,
mon cher Romilly ; car, sans avoir des secrets a
vous communiquer, l'idee de ces trahisons des
postes gate le plaisir de Ja causerie, et retient tou
jours au fond du cceur quelque chose vui voudroit
en sortir.
Mirabeau est tombe dans I'Assemblee, soit par un
effet des manoeuvres de ses ennemis, soit par le
deluge des libelles, soit enfin par les fautes perpe-
tuelles ou l'entraine ce caractere violent, cette
fureur de domination, et cette ambition impatiente
qui s'est trahie elle-meme. On n'a pu souffrir l'idee
de le voir ministre. Au lieu de donner aux ini-
mities le temps de se calmer, de se refaire une
reputation a neuf, de prendre une marche lente et
Letter LXIII. Paris, December, 1789.
I have been waiting for a private opportunity to write to you, my
dear Romilly ; for, without having secrets to impart, the notion of post-
office treachery spoils the pleasure of conversation, and keeps buried
in the heart one thought or other which is longing to escape.
Mirabeau has lost ground in the Assembly, whether from the in
trigues of his enemies, or from the torrent of libels poured forth against
- him, or from the continual faults into which he is drawn by his im
petuous disposition, his rage for domination, and that impatient
ambition which has been its own betrayer. The idea of seeing him
minister could not be endured. Instead of allowing time for enmities
to subside, for his own reputation to be formed anew ; instead of

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 381
mesuree, dont 1'effet eut ete infaillible, il a tout
brusque et tout detruit. Pendant plus d'un mois,
sa tete etoit comme alteree par les convulsions de
ses passions. Sa motion pourle retablissement des
exiles Corses J a eu beaucoup de succes, mais tel
est 1'effet du decri personnel, ce qui feroit beaucoup
d'honneur a d'autres ne lui en fait point. Je ne
sais s'il pourra reprendre de 1'ascendant, mais je
suis bien sur, qu'a moins d'une refonte totale, il
n'aura jamais que des eclairs de succes dont la lueur
ne tarde pas a l'egarer, et ranime les efforts de ses
ennemis. Quelle carriere il aura manque ! . . .
La motion de Duroveray sur les faillis fut tres-
applaudie. Je ne veux pas entrer en polemique
avec vous sur 1' extension de l'exclusion jusqu'aux
enfans ; si je me trompe a cet egard, c'est de
bonne foi, mais je ne crois pas etre dans l'erreur :

pursuing a slow and measured course, the effect of which would have
been infallible, he has risked and ruined every thing. For more than
a month, his head was, as it were, disordered by the convulsions of
his passions. His motion for the restoration of the Corsican exiles '
has had great success ;, but such is the effect of his loss of character,
that he gains no credit by what would have conferred much on any
other man. I do not know whether he will be able to recover his
ascendency ; but I am sure that, unless his whole conduct be re
modelled, he will never have more than flashes of success, the glare of
which is sure to lead him astray, and revive the efforts of his enemies.
What a career he will have missed !
Duroveray's motion with respect to bankrupts was received with
great applause. I will not enter into a controversy with you as to the
exclusion being extended to the children. If I am mistaken on this
point, I am at least sincere ; but I cannot think that I am wrong :

1 The decrees of the Assembly, constituting Corsica a part of the
French empire, and permitting exiled Corsicans to return to France
as French citizens, were passed on the 30th of November, 1789.

382 CORRESPONDENCE with Dec:
les faits sur cette matief e valent mieux que les ab
stractions. J'en ai mille a vous citer ou l'exclusion
prononcee a fait reparer des torts, des malheurs, ou
des crimes ; je n'en connois pas un seul ou elle ait
entraine une injustice. La loi n'est pas encore ab-
solument et irrevocablement decretee, puisqu'elle
l'a ete sauf redaction, et que la redaction est a
faire. Je n'ai pas perdu de vue le recueil des materiaux
pour ecrire quelque chose sur cette revolution, et
si rien au monde peut vaincre leprofond sentiment
de la disproportion de mes forces avec une telle en-
treprise, c'est l'encouragement de votre amitie ; ait
reste, la moisson meme des evenemens est encore
en herbe ; il faut au moins une seconde legislature
pour completer 1'ouvrage de la premiere, et le
temps seul peut faire des revelations sans les-
quelles ils seroit impossible de donner un corps
d'histoire. Mais il faut en causer au coin du feu, et
surtout a la promenade. Le petit essai que je fais

facts, in a matter of this kind, are better than abstractions. I could
quote you a thousand in which this exclusion enforced has brought
about the redress of injuries, of misfortunes, nay, of crimes ; and I do
not know one where it has led to injustice. The law is not yet ab
solutely and irrevocably passed, but it was so, with the exception of
the wording of it, which is still to come.
I have not lost sight of the collection cf materials with a view of
writing something on the Revolution ; and if any thing in the world can
overcome the deep sense I entertain of the disproportion between my
own powers and such an undertaking, it is the encouragement which
your friendship gives me. However, the harvest of events is not yet
ripe ; there must be a second legislature at least to complete the work
of the first, and time alone can bring to light those facts, without which
it would be impossible to form the groundwork of a history. But we
must talk the matter over by our fireside, and especially in our walks.
The slight attempts which I am now making in the lighter ranks of

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 383
dans les fantassins de la litterature me montre tous
les jours davantage combien j'ai peu de gout pour
ce metier. Vous dites que nous ennuyerons de
Geneve a force de repetitions, autant que le ver-
tueux Necker de son integrite ; cependant c'est le
plaisir de parler quelquefois de Geneve qui nous
donne le courage d'aller en avant. Nous en disons
trop pour nos lecteurs, mais pas assez pour nous ;
et je ne vous promets pas de me corriger la-dessus,
quoiqu' assurement je sente bien que vous avez
raison. Vous avez done lu les Confessions de Rousseauf
on voit combien son style dependoit de l'etat de
son ame. On y cherchoit l'histoire de ses sentimens,
on n'y trouve guere que celle de son menage.
La premiere lecture m'a desappointe ; la seconde m'a
fait plus de plaisir. II est si bon homme, si naif ; il
se montre avec tant de verite ; ses sentimens sont
toujours si pres de la nature. Cet ouvrage a fait

literature, show me every day more and more how little taste I have for
this vocation.
You say that we shall tire out people by our repeated allusions to
Geneva, as much as the virtuous Necker does by descanting on his
integrity ; nevertheless, it is the pleasure we feel in sometimes talking of
Geneva, which gives us the courage to go on. We say too much about
it for our readers, but not enough for ourselves ; and I make no pro
mise of amendment, although I quite feel that you are right.
So you have read Rousseau's Confessions.1 One sees how much
his style depended on the state of his mind. One seeks in it for the
history of his feelings and opinions, and one finds only that of his do
mestic life. The first reading disappointed me ; the second gave me
more pleasure. He is so good — so simple ; he describes' himself with
such truth ; his feelings are always so close to nature. The work has

i See note, p. 379.

384 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Dec.
peu de sensation, mais cette sensation n'a pas ete
defavorable a Rousseau. Cerutti a eu beau im-
primer des injures dans le Journal de Paris; il n'a
persuade personne.
Mille petites occupations m'empechent de causer
avec vous aussi longuement que je me l'etois pro-
mis. En relisant ma lettre, je m'apercois que je n'ai
presque rien dit de ce que je voulois vous dire.
Je m'en console en. pensant que le peu que j'ai
dans mon repertoire nous fournira matiere a con
versation. Dites beaucoup de choses de ma part
a nos amis de Frith St. ; je me promets tant de
plaisir de nos paisibles soirees qu'il redouble mon
impatience de me debarasser de mes liens- Le
Courrier de Provence ne m'enrichit pas, nous
ferons banqueroute avant que nous ayons sauve
les debris de cette sotte entreprise.1

made little sensation, but that little has not been unfavourable to
Rousseau. Cerutti might have spared his abuse of it in the Journal
de Paris ; he has convinced no one.
A thousand little occupatious prevent me from talking with you as
long as I had wished. In reading over my letter, I perceive that I
have scarcely said any thing of what I had intended. I console my
self with thinking that the little which remains of my budget will fur
nish us with matter for conversation. Say many kind things for me
to our friends in Frith Street. I promise myself so much pleasure
from our quiet evenings, that it makes me doubly impatient to throw
off my fetters. The Courrier de Provence is not making my fortune ;
we shall be bankrupts before we have saved any thing from the wreck
of this foolish undertaking.'

1 See note, p. 353.

1789. M. DUMONT, ETC. 385
Letter LXIV.
TO MR. VAUGHAN.'
Dec. 29. 1789.
I am very much obliged to Lord Lans
downe for sending me the Domine Salvum 2, &c. ;
and am very grateful for his goodness towards Du
mont in feeling any solicitude on his account. I
cannot, however, entertain the least doubt of Du-
mont's being perfectly safe at Paris, notwithstand
ing his being named in that libel. A work so con
temptible and so malignant, replete with notorious
falsehoods, can hardly have made impression on
any body. I believe the only person who has
thought it deserving of any notice is the aristocra-
tical editor of the Leyden Gazette. You may re
collect my speaking to you about the book, near
two months ago, when I dined at your house with
Mr. Dugald Stewart. Perhaps I did not say that
Dumont was named in it ; indeed, I thought it of
little consequence. However, my friendship for
Dumont could make me wish, if himself alone
were to be considered, that he were no longer at
Paris; for it is impossible not to feelthe utmost
indignation, when one sees that the services which
he has rendered to the French nation, and which
are certainly not much less considerable than those
of any one man in the National Assembly, have
1 See ante, p. 85.
« This was a political pamphlet, which had been published some
weeks before at Paris, and in which M. Dumont had been mentioned
as the principal writer of Mirabeau's journal (the Courrier de Provence).
VOL. I. C C

386 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 1789.
no other reward than the calumnies of the most
malignant libellers. I believe it is no exaggeration
to say that all the good which Mirabeau has done
was suggested to him by Dumont, or Duroveray,
and that they have prevented him from doing
nothing but what was mischievous. It is hardly
necessary to say that Dumont has acted with the
purest disinterestedness, and that he has never had
any other object in view than that of being useful,
He has done what few people could liave had
magnanimity enough to do ; he has seen his com
positions universally extolled as masterpieces of
eloquence, and all the merit of them ascribed to
persons who had not written a single word in
them ; and he has never discovered that he was
the author of them but to those from whom it was
impossible to conceal it. Of every thing that he
has written, the advantages have been shared be
tween Mirabeau and his bookseller, the one taking
the glory, and the other the emolument. It is true,
that, with respect to the Courrier de Provence,
Dumont ought by agreement to receive a share of
the profit; but the honest bookseller always manages
so well that though the book is in every body's
hands, there never are any profits to divide. S. R.

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 387

1790—1791.
Letter LXV.
TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, Jan- ^. mo.
I sit down to answer your letter ofthe 18th
of this month ; but it will give me great pleasure if
the answer does not reach you, and if you have
quitted Paris before my letter gets there. I assure
you I am much more impatient for your return
than you are yourself. I trembled lest you should
set out for Geneva ; but you say nothing about
any such intention, and therefore I trust you have
given it up. I still fear, however, that you will
again get involved with the Courrier de Provence;
but, indeed, you ought not, through good-nature,
thus to sacrifice yourself to others. I shall not be
easy till I see you quietly established in Berkeley
Square, writing the History of the Revolution,
and giving me a sheet at a time to translate. Posi
tively you must undertake it. Your objections,
which amount only to this, that you will not be
able to attain an ideal perfection which you have
painted to yourself, are good for nothing. With
all the defects which even your severity may
imagine, it will still be the most useful work that
has been published for a century, and will be in
finitely better executed by you than by any other
c c 2

388 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Jan.
person that attempts it. Once more, you must
undertake it. Make it a work for posterity, but
make it a work for the present generation too ; and
prepare for yourself the sublimest of all pleasures,
that of contemplating the extensive good which
you will have effected. Indeed, I am serious in
thinking that you cannot renounce the idea of
writing the work I have mentioned to you, and be
exempt from all criminality.
My only commissions are to beg you would
bring me the Bishop of Autun's ¦ book on Lot
teries, a copy of my Reglemens of the English
House of Commons2, Helvetius' Letters, and to
inquire the date of the Abbe Sieyes' pamphlets.
At least I don't, at present, recollect any others.
I grieve beyond measure that the National As
sembly does nothing respecting the slave trade.
The question has been revived, here, the first day
that the House met on business. If there were
any prospect of the French giving up the trade,
I think it certainly would be abolished here. I
cannot conceive why it is delayed. If the subject
were merely introduced, and the temper of the
French seen, it would be sufficient.
I write in great haste,
Yours, affectionately,
Saml. Romilly.
> Talleyrand. 2 See ante, p. 101.

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 389
Letter LXVI.
TO MADAME ^G  .
Gray's Inn, Jan. 26. 1790".
I was very sorry, Madam, that I could not
send you my congratulations ' at the same time
that you received those of your other friends. I
am sure that you will have received none more
sincere, and that no one has formed more ardent
wishes for your happiness than I have. All those
wishes, indeed, are now comprehended in one —
that of long life ; for length of life to both of you
must be to both a prolongation of the greatest hap
piness. I long to pay you both a visit, and to see
you in your manage, which I cannot express in
English, because we have no word for it ; although
there is no country, I believe, where the domestic
, comforts which it imports is more felt and valued
than ours. As I cannot visit you in reality, I do
it often in idea, and transport myself from my soli
tary chambers in Gray's Inn, to the cheerful fire
side of my dear friends in the Rue des Capucines.
I accompany you too in many of your frequent visits
to Mme. D  -, and enjoy the satisfaction she feels
at being surrounded by her happy and virtuous
family. We, in England, are surprised and rejoiced that
so great an operation as the division of the King
dom should have been accomplished in France
without any thing that deserves the name of oppo-
' On her marriage.
c c 3

390 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Jan.
sition. So convincing a proof of the unanimity
and public zeal ofthe whole country, makes it im
possible, even for the most incredulous, to doubt
any longer of the success of the Revolution. I
was present in our House of Commons on the first
day of the session, and blushed for our legislators
when I heard Lord Valletort's observations on the
French Revolution, and found that they passed
without animadversion. However, it was a very
thin House ; none of the considerable men of op
position were there, and the friends ofthe ministry
were probably unwilling to disconcert their young
aristocratical friend in his first essay at public
speaking ; but this, I admit, is a very bad excuse.
I am disappointed and vexed beyond measure at
the turn which affairs seem likely to take in Flan
ders. One would have thought it impossible that
one ofthe first measures of a people who had just
recovered their independence, and who had such
examples before them, would be to sanction their
old government, with all its abuses, and that one
ofthe worst governments on the face ofthe earth ;
and that in all their manifestoes they should com
plain of the Emperor's tolerating other religions as
an insufferable grievance. Indeed, one can hardly
rejoice at their success. It is of little consequence
that they have thrown off the yoke of Joseph II.,
since they willingly submit to the double yoke ofa
proud aristocracy and a persecuting superstition.
Pray assure M. G  of my most affectionate
regard ; and believe me, &c.
Saml. Romilly.

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 391
Letttr LXVII.
FROM MADAME G  .
[Paris,] 7 Fevrier, 1790.
Si nous ecrivons rarement a nos amis, Mon
sieur, nous y pensons bien souvent, et rarement un
jour se passe sans une occasion de prononcer votre
nom entre nous : tant6t un evenement politique,
tantot la lecture d'un de vos grands poetes, nous
ramene a vous; et surement il y a bien peu de
pensees interessantes, auxquelles votre idee ne
puisse etre liee. Vous voulez nous affliger en nous
presentant comme si peu probable l'esperance de
vous voir en France; mais I'avenir est si incertain, il
amene si souvent des maux et des biens sur lesquels
on ne comptoit pas, que nous ne voulons point des-
esperer du plaisir de vous voir au milieu de nous,
et nous nous reposons pour cela sur le temps et les
circonstances. Letter LXVII. [Paris,] February 7. 1790. •
If we seldom write to our friends, Sir, at least we very often
think of them, and scarcely a day passes without there being some
occasion to mention your name : at one time a political' event, at an
other the perusal of one of your great poets, brings us back to you ;
and, indeed, there are very few interesting thoughts with which you
are not associated in our minds. You seem bent on distressing us, by
holding out so little prospect of our seeing you in France. " But the
future is so uncertain, it brings with it. so often both good, and evil,
upon which one did not reckon, that we are resolved not to despair
of having the pleasure of seeing you amongst us, but to trust for it to
time and circumstance.
C C 4

392 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Feb.
Nos affaires ici vont bien, et la venue du Roi a
I'Assemblee a produit un excellent effet.1 On est
a present tout occupe de prefer serment. Vous
trouverez peut-etre quelque ridicule dans cette
idee, et qu'on se presse trop de jurer de maintenir
une constitution qui n'est qu'ebauchee. Tout cela
a ete produit par une effervescence, qui ne per-
mettoit pas la reflexion, mais qui aura de bons
effets. L' Assemblee travaille avec ardeur, et paroit
bien disposee. Les finances sont toujours notre
cote malade, et c'est cependant le point important ;
mais les biens du clerge seront notre salut, et on
va s'occuper tres-incessamment de mettre en vente
ceux qui en sont susceptibles. La France offre
dans ce moment un beau spectacle, et je ne doute
pas que vous n'y fixiez avec complaisance vos re
gards, d'autant plus qu'actuellement tout est
calme et tranquille, et qu'il n'est plus question des

Our matters go on well here, and the King's visit to the Assembly
has produced an excellent effect.1 Every one is now busy in taking the
oath. You will perhaps think this notion somewhat ridiculous, and
that people are in too great a hurry to swear to maintain a constitu
tion of which nothing exists but a mere outline. All this has been
brought about by an ebullition of feeling which allowed no time for
reflection, but which will do good. The Assembly is earnest in its
labours, and appears to be well disposed. Finance is still our weak
point, and yet the most important ; but the church property will be
our salvation, and steps are about to be taken to offer for sale that
portion of it which can be so disposed of. France affords at this
moment a noble spectacle, and I have no doubt that you contemplate
it with pleasure ; the more so, that at present all is calm and tranquil,

• On the 4th of February the King came to the Assembly to accept
the constitution formed by them ; and on the following days the oath
of fidelity to the constitution was taken by the Assembly and other
public bodies.

J790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 393
horreurs qui ont tant revoke, et avec raison, les
etrangers. La division de la France1 paroit achevee ; mais
ce n'est pas sans peine, et il est difficile d'imaginer
le travail du comite de constitution. Les re
clamations ont ete innombrables, et il n'y avoit pas
de petit village qui n'eut de fortes raisons a alle-
guer pour etre choisi pour chef-lieu de district ou
de departement. Les municipality sont formees
en grande partie ; les elections sont assez bonnes,
et dans trois endroits on a elu pour maire l'in-
tendant, et dans beaucoup des privilegies.
Excusez, Monsieur, ma precipitation, mais je
ne veux pas manquer encore ce courrier. Croyez
a notre amitie.
M. D. G.

and that there is an end of the horrors with which foreigners were so
greatly and so justly shocked.
The division of France ' appears to be completed, but not without
difficulty ; and it is not so easy to form an idea of the labours of the
constitution-committee. The claims set up have been numberless, and
there was no little village which had not strong reasons to urge for its
selection as the capital of the district or department. Most of the
municipalities are formed. The elections are tolerably good ; in three
places the intendant has been elected mayor, and in many others per
sons ofthe privileged class.
Excuse haste, but I must not again miss the post. Believe
me, &c. M.D.G.

1 The Act which decreed a division of France into eighty-three de
partments was passed on the 15th of January, 1790; and the letters
patent of the king relative to this new division of the kingdom were
issued on the 4th of March. See Moniteur for 1790, No. 17.

394 CORRESPONDENCE WITH March,
Letter LXVIII.
FROM MADAME G  .
Paris, 4 Mars, 1790.
M. Dumont vient de nous faire dire, Mon
sieur, qu'il partoit pour l'Angleterre, c'est a dire,
qu'il alloit vous revoir et vous rejoindre ; on ne
peut se refuser a le charger d'un petit mot pour
vous. Nous avons vequ les pamphlets et votre
lettre qui en indique la destination, qui a ete aus-
sitot fidelement remplie. Nous avons lu, avec beau
coup d'interet, Thoughts on the Influence*, &c.
dont I'auteur se cache sisoigneusement qu'on n'ose
pas le deviner, quoiqu'on en ait pourtant bien
envie. Ce sera un bien beau spectacle, que l'emu-
lation de ces deux nations pour parvenir au bien et
au perfectionnement dans leurs gouvernemens, et
qui rendra bien meprisable et bien puerile celle

Letter LXVIII. Paris, March 4. 1790.
Mr. Dumont has just sent us word, Sir, that he is setting out
for England ; in other words, that he is going to sSe and join you.
We cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of giving him a few lines for
you. We received the pamphlets you sent us, and immediately for
warded them to their destination, according to the directions contained
in your letter.
We have read, with much interest, Thoughts on the Influence1, &c,
the author of which conceals himself so carefully, that we do not ven
ture to guess who he is, although we are very anxious to do so. It will
be a very noble spectacle to behold the rivalry of these two nations
vying with each other in their endeavour to increase the measure
of human happiness, and to perfect their respective governments; which

1 Thoughts on the probable Influence qfthe French Revolution on Great
Britain, printed in 1790. See ante, p. 103.

,1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 3Q5
d'un genre bien different qui a exisfe depuis si
longtems entr'elles. Je souhaite bien vivement
que cette emulation soit bientot etablie a juste titre,
et que le moment ou l'Angleterre aura quelque
chose a envier a la France ne soit pas trop eloigne.
Notre position, a l'envisager philosophiquement et
moralement, est grande, belle, et faite pour animer
et exciter tous les sentimens nobles et eleves. Mais
le regne de l'imagination ne subsiste pas toujours,
et nous avons bien des maux reels. Au reste, il
nous sied fort mal de tenir ce langage, car nous
sommes du nombre de ceux auxquels la revolution
ne procurera que de grands et nombreux avantages,
et a qui elle ne coutera presque rien. Je plains
foiblement aussi ceux qui ne sontattaqu6s que dans
leurs prejuges les plus chers, qui perdent des places,
des pensions meme, quoiqu'une grande revolution de
fortune soit souvent bien penible a supporter. Mais
je gemis sur la cessation d'ouvrage de tout genre,
de manufactures de toute espece, qui se fait sentir

will place in a justly puerile and contemptible light that very different
rivalry which has so long subsisted between them. I fervently hope we
may soon see this spirit of emulation in operation on proper principles,
and that the moment is not far distant when France may possess some
thing which may be justly envied by England. Our position, looking at
it in a philosophical and moral point of view, is great and noble, and
calculated to animate and excite every fine and elevated feeling. But
the reign of imagination will not last for ever, and we are suffering
under many real evils. However, it ill becomes me to hold this
language ; for our family is of the number of those to whom the re
volution will bring many and great advantages, without imposing upon
us any important sacrifice. I have but little sympathy either for those
who are attacked only in their darling prejudices, who lose places, and
even pensions ; although a great reverse of fortune is often very hard
to bear. But what I do lament is the cessation of every kind of
work, and of every sort of manufacture, . which is felt from one end

396 CORRESPONDENCE WITH March,
d'un bout du royaume a l'autre, et qui cause une
misere aussi difficile a imaginer qu'a decrire;
heureusement que la belle saison qui s'approche,
va beaucoup adoucir sa rigueur. C'est vraiment
le cote triste de la revolution, celui qui fait desirer
avec une bien vive ardeur que l'ordre et la con-
fiance, qui feront tout revivre, renaissent bientot.
II est peu probable que la France donne a l'An-
gleterre l'exemple de l'abolition de la traite et de
l'esclavage des negres : on craint d'ouvrir une
nouvelle plaie, et peut-etre pour l'honneur de notre
humanite le craint-on trop.
Je desire ardemment que vous conserviez votre
bonne opinion de notre revolution ; et je souhaite
bien que nous la justifions : c'est surement un des
suffrages qui lui fait honneur, et je me le cite sou
vent pour ranimer mes esperances. Recevez, &c.
M. D. G.

of the kingdom to the other, and which creates an amount of misery as
difficult to imagine as to describe ; fortunately, the summer is coming
on, and will greatly mitigate its severity. This is indeed the melan
choly side of the revolution, and makes one long very ardently for
what would give new life to every thing, the restoration of order and
confidence. It is little likely that France will set England an ex
ample by abolishing the slave trade and slavery : people are afraid of
opening a fresh wound, and too much so perhaps for the honour of
humanity. I fervently wish that you may retain your good opinion of our re
volution, and I much hope that it may be justified. Your good
opinion, is one of those which does us honour ; and I often recall it to
my mind for the sake of reviving my hopes. Believe me, &c.
M. D. G.

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 397
Letter LXIX.
FROM MADAME G  .
Paris, 2 Mai, 1790.
Nous sommes depuis quelque temps prives du
plaisir de vous ecrire, monsieur, et cependant nous
avons recu plusieurs marques de votre souvenir.
Nous avons envoye, des le meme jour qu'il nous est
parvenu, l'ouvrage ' de M. Bentham a un membre
du comite de constitution, qui sait parfaitement
1' Anglois ; et certainement si ces messieurs l'ont
voulu, ils ont eu assez tot connoissance de cet
interessant travail, pour pouvoir en profiter. L' As-
semblee est serieusement occupee de l'ordre judi-
ciaire dans ce moment. On craint beaucoup qu'elle
ne fasse qu'a moitie bien ; peut-etre auroit-il ete plus
sage de he faire que des changemens provisoires,
et de renvoyer a quelques annees ce travail im
portant, qui pourroit bien se ressentir de I'agitation

Letter LXIX. Paris, May 2. 1790.
We have for some time been deprived of the pleasure of writing
to you, sir, although we have received several tokens of your kind
recollection of us. We forwarded, on the same day that it reached us,
Mr. Bentham's work » to a member of the constitution-committee, who
knows English perfectly ; and certainly if the committee had wished to
profit by this interesting work, they have been in possession of it quite
long enough to have done so. The assembly is at this moment earnestly
engaged on the judicial establishment. It is greatly feared that what
it does will only be half done ; and perhaps it would have been wiser
if none but temporary alterations had now been made, and the perma
nent execution of this important work had been postponed some years,

1 Emancipate your Colonies.

398 CORRESPONDENCE WITH May,
des esprits, de l'exaltation des tetes, &c. Je re-
doute quelquefois, monsieur, que vous ne nous
trouviez bien Frangois dans la plupart des choses
que nous avons faites. On s'echauffe, on dispute,
on discute avec esprit de parti ; on decide prompte-
ment, parcequ'on est presse par les circonstances,
et quand le decret est rendu, on se persuade qu'il
etoit impossible de pouvoir rien faire de mieux.
II y a une fermentation plus vive que jamais dans
I'Assemblee depuis quelques jours. Les derniers
decrets sur les biens du clerge ont cause une irri
tation chez ceux qui en sont les victimes, qui va
jusqu'a, la rage. Dans leur desespoir ils se por
tent aux dernieres extremites. Heureusement que
leur influence sur les esprits est tres-foible, et que
leur protestations et toutes leurs demarches ne
servent qu'a les rendre moins interessans, et a gater
leur cause. Je crois que si vous etiez au milieu de
nous, vous auriez souvent des momens penibles,
et que vous souffririez de la licence effrenee qui
to a period when it would be less likely than it now is to suffer from
the agitation and enthusiasm of men's minds.
I sometimes fear that you must think most of the things we have
done very French. We get heated, we dispute, we discuss with party-
spirit ; we decide precipitately, because we are pressed by circumstances,
and when the decree is passed, we persuade ourselves that it was not
possible to do better.
For some days past the Assembly has been in a more violent state of
ferment than ever. The last decrees respecting the property of the
church have caused an irritation amongst thosewho are sufferers by them,
which amounts to a state of phrenzy ; and, in their despair, they would
carry matters to the last extremity. Happily their influence on men's
minds is very slight j and all their protestations and proceedings serve
only to lessen the interest with which they are regarded, and to injure
their cause. If you were in the midst of us, I think you would have
many painful moments, and that you would grieve at the unbounded
licence which pervades all writings and all conversations. Every

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 399
regne dans les ecrits, dans les propos. Toute idee
de decence, de retenue, est foulee aux pieds, et il
est a craindre qu'on n'ait de la peine a se raccou-
tumer a obeir aux lois qu'on se sera imposees.
Au reste, ce qui peut rassurer, c'est que les pro
vinces sont beaucoup plus calmes et raisonnables ;
que la milice nationale est partout fort bien com-
posee et disposee a faire executer les decrets de
I'Assemblee. Nous avons, au milieu des agitations de la revo
lution, passe un hiver tres-heureux et paisible, fort
reunis en famille, prenant 1'interet le plus vif a la
revolution, et nous affligeant quelquefois de voir
les deux partis aller trop loin. Toutes les for
tunes ont ete pendant quelque temps en grand
danger ; mais 1' operation des assignats semble re-
ussir, et probablement nous sauvera. Recevez,
Monsieur, mille choses de vos amis de Paris*
qui s'occupent bien souvent de vous, et qui vous
sont bien sincerement attaches.
M. D. G.
idea of decency and of restraint is trampled under foot ; and it is to
be feared that men will not easily return to a habit of obedience to the
law, even though it be the law of their own creation. In the mean
time one may derive some confidence from the fact, that the provinces
are much more tranquil and reasonable, and that the national militia is
every where formed of good materials, and is well disposed to give
effect to the decrees of the Assembly.
In the midst of all the agitations of the revolution, we in our family
circle have passed a calm and happy winter, taking the deepest interest
in the revolution, and grieving sometimes to see both parties going too
far. All private property was, for some time, in great danger ; but the
operation of the assignats seems to succeed, and will probably prove
our salvation.
I have many kind messages to send you from your friends at Paris,
who think of you very often, and are very sincerely attached to you.
M.D.G.

400 CORRESPONDENCE WITH June,
Letter LXX.
TO MADAME G  .
Madam, GlVs Inn> June 4- mo-
You are apprehensive that I shall think a
great deal of what has been done in France is very
French, and I guess that you allude to an observ
ation which I remember to have made on young
Vernet's picture at your exhibition ; but though
your countrymen have acquired a manner in the
fine arts which is peculiarly their own, it may be
doubted whether they have been legislators long
enough to have given their name to any peculiar
mode of legislation. I assure you, however, that
if I were to venture to call any species of law
making French, I should use that expression as a
term of great honour, and not of reproach. The
National Assembly are better judged of at a dis
tance than near at hand, because they should be
judged by what they do, and not by their manner
of doing it. I find this by experience ; and I
have, I assure you, much more respect for the
National Assembly now that I am at London, than
I had while I was at Versailles. I am far from
approving of every thing that they have done ; but
one finds so much to admire, that one is not willing
to dwell upon the few things which one would wish
were otherwise than they are.
I congratulate you on the decision of the Na
tional Assembly l, on the King's right of making
1 The decree of the National Assembly on this subject was made on
the 22d of May, 1790, and was in substance as follows : — "The right

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 401
war. I hope it has given you as much pleasure as
it has me. I consider every difficulty thrown in
the way of making war as so much gained to hu
manity ; and if a project of universal peace can
ever be established, I am satisfied it must rather be
by disarming kings than by the Abbe St. Pierre's
congress of regal deputies. I know that many very
warlike republics have existed, and that it is easy
to cite the example of the Romans, the Cartha
ginians, and so forth : but I hope the French Re
volution has put those kinds of historical arguments
quite out of fashion. I know, at least, that by such
arguments I could have proved to demonstration,
eight months ago, that the districts of Paris, —
those sixty republics, as they were called, — with
their senates and their demagogues, would never
have submitted to be annihilated ; which, however,
has since happened without opposition (as far as
we have heard here, at least,J) even of a single in
dividual. I am afraid, though I should not call any thing
that has passed with you very French, you would,
if you had been here at the first news of a Spanish
war, have thought us very, very English. The
discovery of the grand elixir, which would efface
pain and disease out of the list of human calamities,
could not have given a man of humanity more
pleasure than some persons felt here at the prospect
of plundering, foreign merchants* and burning and

of making peace and war belongs to the nation. War can only be de
cided on by a decree of the legislative body, passed on the formal pro
posal of the king, and sanctioned by him." See Moniteur for 1790,
No. 144.
VOL. I. D D

403 CORRESPONDENCE WITH June,
sinking Spanish ships. It is very fortunate for
France that her National Assembly does not meet
in a city where they can be much influenced by
the barbarous prejudices of persons concerned in
privateering, or in particular branches of commerce.
The situation of our parliament has more than
once made an unjust and impolitic war have the
appearance of being popular. I had the mortifi
cation, a few days ago, of finding myself considered
as a maintainer of the most extravagant paradoxes,
because I asserted that a war of any kind must be
to England a calamity; but that a victorious war
would be the greatest of calamities. And this is
thought a paradox ; after the experience of the
glories, as they are called, of Lord Chatham's ad
ministration, — glories which procured no one solid
advantage to this country -, which did not add one
single moment's happiness to the existence of any
human being, but which were purchased by an
immense debt, by infinite bloodshed, and, what
was worse, which gave us false notions of our
honour, and our dignity, and our superiority, of
which we cannot be corrected but by the loss of
much more treasure, and more blood ! But I beg
your pardon for troubling you with my observations
on these melancholy subjects. I would have talked
with you of subjects more pleasing to us both, but
it is now too late to correct my error, for I have
got to the end of my paper, and it is impossible for
me at this moment to command time enough to
begin another letter. Pray remember me very af
fectionately to Mr. G., &c. &c.

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 403
Letter LXXI.
TO THE SAME.
London, August 20. 1790.
The first use, Madam, to which I devote
the leisure that the long vacation affords me, is to
return you many thanks for the translation of Mr.
Bentham's book on Usury \ which you did me the
favour to send me. I have read it with very great
pleasure. It appears to me to be extremely well
done, and the omissions and alterations which have
been made in the order of the work I think very
judicious. I have given a copy of it to Mr. Ben
tham, who is exceedingly pleased with it, and
returns many thanks to his unknown translator, for
so ably assisting him in propagating opinions which
he hopes will prove useful to mankind.
, I very gladly seize the opportunity of M. De la
Roche's departure to send you the new edition of
Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments. It
was published only a few months before the author's
death,, and contains many passages and some whole
chapters not published in any of the preceding edi
tions. These will afford you entertainment if you
should be, as I suppose you are, already acquainted
with the rest of the work. If that should not b&
the case, you will receive great pleasure from the
whole of it. Not, indeed, that I think his theory
perfectly solid : but the speculations of an ingenious
man on such a subject are always interesting, and
those of Adam Smith would render any subject in-
' Defence of Usury.
D D 2

404 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Aug.
teresting. I have been surprised, and I own a little
indignant, to observe how little impression his death
has made here. Scarce any notice has been taken
of it, while for above a year together, after the
death of Dr. Johnson, nothing was to be heard of
but panegyrics of him. Lives, Letters, and Anec
dotes, and even at this moment there are two more
lives of him about to start into existence. Indeed
one ought not, perhaps, to be very much surprised
that the public does not do justice to the works of
A. Smith, since he did not do justice to them him
self, but always considered his Theory of Moral
Sentiments as a much superior work to his Wealth
of Nations.The French Revolution seems to be growing po
pular, where one would last expect it, even in our
Universities. One of the questions proposed this
year by the Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge, for a
Latin prize dissertation was, " Whether the French
Revolution was likely to prove advantageous or in
jurious to this country ; " and the prize was given
to a dissertation ' written to prove that it would be
advantageous to us.
I was very agreeably surprised to hear from my
friend Mr. Vaughan that he had spent part of one of
the very few days which he passed at Paris in your
company. I have been importuning him with ques
tions about you, and have made him tell me where
he saw you, and when, and for how long, and how
long he walked in the garden at Passy, and every
thing which could assist me to transport myself to
the same scene, and to make one of the company.
1 This dissertation was written by Mr. Whishaw.

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC 405
Pray assure Mr. G  of my warm and unalter
able friendship. I mention him less frequently in
my letters than I should do, if I did not consider
the whole of them as being addressed to him at the
same time as to you.

Letter LXXII.
TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, September 25.1 790.
After reading Duroveray's letter with the
greatest attention, I cannot say that I find in it
sufficient reason to induce you to undertake the
journey which he proposes. If he does not deceive
himself as to the situation of affairs at Geneva,
your presence seems quite unnecessary ; and matters
are likely to be settled without you, if not in the
best manner possible, at least in the best that can
be expected ; an<l if he does deceive himself, and
considers matters with too sanguine hopes, it must
be at least doubtful what can be done, and how
distant may still be that crisis which he supposes
has already arrived. I cannot conceive how Du
roveray can persuade himself that the people of
Geneva ought to be careful not to let the present
opportunity pass unimproved. That opportunity
(if it ought to be called by that name) is what the
French Revolution has offered them, and seems
likely to be an opportunity which will last for
ages. A counter-revolution is impossible ; and,
if there were degrees of impossibility, it would be
d d 3

406 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Sept.
still more impossible that France should again
exercise any control over the government of Ge
neva. The most essential thing, therefore, at Ge
neva is to do nothing precipitately ; the making a
constitution is a work of reason, not of enthusiasm.
Argument and discussion may be of great use at
the present moment at Geneva ; but I do not see
what good is to be done by eloquence ; and argu
ment and discussion may as well be communicated
to them from London as at Geneva. I can easily
conceive, indeed, that, if you were on the spot, you
might be able to induce them to do more for the
natives than they would otherwise do ; but I own
I should dread the effects of what they might be
induced to do merely from a sudden movement,
with which they would be inspired, and which, in
cooler moments of selfish reflection, they might
repent of. It is easy to foresee the jealousies
which might arise from hence, how the seeds of
future divisions might by that means be sown, and
how the most generous conduct on your part might
in the end receive no other reward than the com
plaints and dissatisfaction of your countrymen.
With all this, however, I cannot in my conscience
tell you that I think you would be of no use at
Geneva. I have too high an opinion of your
talents and your virtues to think that you could
ever be useless where any good was to be done.
But, of whatever use your journey might be to
your countrymen, Iam sure it would be of none to
yourself: and a person destined to do as much
good as I sincerely believe you are, ought to be
allowed a little to consider what effect any measure

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 407
he may take is likely to have on his own character.
A person who sets out on such a mission as that
on which our friends desire you to go to Geneva
assumes to himself a degree of importance which,
however well you may be entitled to it, it is not
in your temper to assume, and which, if such an
expedition prove fruitless, cannot fail of covering
him with ridicule. I admit, however, that all this
and much more ought to be risked, if there were a
prospect of rendering any important service to your
country ; but I cannot persuade myself that this
is the present case. The disinclination you have
to going to Geneva is alone sufficient to convince
me that you would be of little service there ; and
though I cannot blame the zeal of your friends, who
importune you to surmount that disinclination, and
to sacrifice your own ease to an object which they
think important ; yet, in fact, it is much easier to
recommend sacrifices than to make them. The
truth is, that we never know what the sacrifices
are which we recommend ; and that which we look
upon as only a slight inconvenience, may be to the
person whom we wrould persuade to submit to it a
very serious evil. I say all this merely to convince
you that you alone are the proper judge what you
ought to do. Trust to your own judgment alone.
Regard no part of the letters which you receive
from Geneva but the facts they contain, and the
opinion which is entertained of your abilities and
your virtues, and from those data decide whether
you ought to go or not. To undertake such a
journey, on such an occasion, merely from defer
ence to the opinions and wishes of others, is a
d d 4

408 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.
weakness hardly excusable. Trust to yourself, and
I have no doubt of your doing right.
I dined two days ago with Trail, who was in
town for a day. He is very much pleased with
Mirabeau's two speeches on the family compact
and the assignats ', and has conceived a higher
opinion of him than he ever had before, at finding
he can do so much when deprived ofthe assistance
tp which he owed so great a part of his former re
putation. Erskine is returned from Paris a violent demo
crat. He has had a coat made of the uniform
of the Jacobins, with buttons bearing this inscrip
tion, " Vivre libre ou mourir," and he says he in
tends to wear it in our House of Commons.
Yours affectionately, Saml. Romilly.

Letter LXXIII.
TO M. G  .
Dear G  , Gray's Inn, Oct. 29. 1790.
I thank you for your good news, and con
gratulate you upon it most cordially. I will ven
ture to cast the nativity of your little daughter,
and to pronounce that she is infallibly destined
to be happy ; for the education she will receive
cannot fail of rendering her so. You promise me
that she is by and by to be my very good friend ;
in the meantime, however, I foresee that the little
damsel will do me a great deal of mischief, and will
i See Moniteur for 1790, Nos. 240. and 241.

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 409
engross moments that otherwise perhaps would be
employed in writing some of those letters which I
always expect with so much impatience, and read
with so much pleasure. Pray tell Made. G  ,
however, that I shall never admit the validity of
such an excuse ; and since she has received her
morality from me, tell her that I hold it to be an
indisputable principle in morals, that there are no
incompatible virtues, and that therefore she may be
a good mother and a good correspondent too ; and
much as I wish well to my little new-born friend, I
cannot consent to sacrifice to her the very few
hours in the year which I have any claim to. In
short, tell her that I shall not believe she is per
fectly recovered, till I see a letter from her under
her own hand.
At the same time that you tell me you won't speak
of public affairs, you let me discover very easily what
your opinion of them is ; but I really think that if
you are disappointed at the turn which the Revo
lution has taken, it is because you expected too
much. I will admit all the violence, and, if you
will, even the interestedness of the leaders in the
National Assembly ; but that men should act from
the pure motive of procuring good to others, with
out any regard at all to themselves, is, I am afraid,
more than one is entitled to expect, even under
the most perfect government that human wisdom,
could desire, much more under such a government
as that under which the characters of all the men
who are now acting any public part in France has
been formed. Notwithstanding the vanity and
ambition of some individuals, and notwithstanding

410 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.
the injustice which the Assembly itself has been
guilty of in several instances, it must be admitted
that no assembly of men that ever met since the
creation has done half so much towards promoting
the happiness of the human species as the National
Assembly. Don't imagine that I judge of what is
passing in France merely from the accounts in our
English papers ; I constantly read four French
papers ; and among them the Gazette Nationale,
and the Journal des Debats et des Decrets. Our
English papers indeed affect to treat every thing
which is done in the National Assembly with con
tempt ; but it is the contempt of the contemptible.
Our parliament is to meet on the 25th of next
month ; and we shall then learn, it is to be hoped,
why we have been making such expensive prepara
tions for war. There are, I think, about 150 or
160 new members in the parliament; some of
them certainly will take part in the debates. Er
skine is, I think, the most remarkable of these ;
though his eloquence, which certainly is very great,
was not displayed to much advantage when he was
formerly in parliament. Another new member,
who will probably speak, is Sir Elijah Impey, the
East India Judge, the friend of Mr. Hastings, and
the man against whom the last parliament were
very near voting an impeachment. As to Mr.
Hastings himself, his partisans pretend that the
dissolution ofthe parliament has put an end to his
impeachment; and itissaid that even the Chancellor
maintains that opinion. It is an opinion, however,
for which the principal members of the House of
Commons insist there is not the least foundation,

1790. M. DUMONT, ETC. 411
and there will probably be some violent debates on
the subject in both houses. If, on the pretence
of a dissolution, an end should be put to the trial,
I should not be at ail surprised to see Mr. Hastings
dignified with a peerage, and taking his seat among
his judges ; as his friend Sir Elijah Impey has
taken his among his accusers.
Pray remember me very affectionately to Made.
D-  , and to all her family. Yours, &c.
Saml. Romilly.

Letter LXX IV.
FROM MADAME G  .
Paris, 3 Nov. 1 790.
Nous venons de recevoir, Monsieur, votre
obligeante lettre, et je ne laisserai pas partir M.
Smith sans quelques lignes qui vous prouvent mon
parfait retablissement, puisque vous ne voulez y
croire qu'a cette condition.
Nous sommes bien aises que vous consideriez
encore notre revolution et notre position sous
un aspect un peu favorable. Votre opinion nous
redonne du courage. Peut-etre notre difference
de maniere de voir tient-elle a ce que vous ne
Letter LXXIV. Paris, Nov. 3. 1790.
We haye just received your obliging letter, and I cannot allow
Mr. Smith to leave us without a few lines which may satisfy you as to my
complete recovery, since you will believe it on no other condition.
We are very glad that you still view our revolution, and the posture
of our affairs, in a somewhat favourable light. Your good opinion
gives us fresh courage. Perhaps, the difference in our mode of viewing

412 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Feb.
voyez que les resultats des operations de I'As
semblee, et que nous qui sommes sur le lieu de la
scene, nous sommes blesses du spectacle du jeu
des passions dans tous leurs exces, des fureurs
de la cabale, de l'intrigue, uniques ressorts qui
conduisent dans ce moment nos affaires. Quelque-
fois on ne peut s'empecher de craindre qu'une si
grande depravation, dans les esprits et dans les
caracteres, ne nuise et n'empoisonne totalement
tout le bien qu'on avoit lieu d'esperer de la revo
lution. Voila la cause du decouragement des
honnetes gens, qui gemissent de voir tous les jours
se reculer davantage l'epoque du retour de l'ordre
et de la paix ou milieu de nous.
M.D. G.

Letter LXXV.
FROM THE SAME.
Paris, 18Fe'vrier, 1791.
Nous aurions du repondre bien plutot, Mon
sieur, a votre obligeant envoi, et a la lettre qui
arises from your seeing only the results of the proceedings of the As
sembly, whilst we, who are on the spot, are shocked by beholding
the working of passions in all their excesses, and the raging of cabals
and intrigues, the only springs which now direct our movements.
Sometimes one cannot help fearing lest so great a depravation of mind
and disposition should neutralise, or entirely poison, all the good one
had reason to expect from the revolution. This itis which discourages
right-minded men, who lament to see the time when order and peace
may be restored to us becoming every day more distant.
Letter LXXV. Paris, Feb. 18. 1791.
We ought, Sir, to have acknowledged much sooner your obliging
packet, and the letter which accompanied it, and which M. Dumont

1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 413
l'accompagnoit, que M. Dumont nous a remise.
Nous nous sommes procure le plaisir de parler
beaucoup de vous avec lui : nous avons tache
d'arranger que vous fissiez bientot un voyage ici,
et nous trouvons que vous ne pouvez pas vous en
dispenser. Pensez bien, Monsieur, au plaisir que
nous aurons a vous voir, a tous les objets d'interet
que la France peut vous offrir, et vous serez de
notre avis. Nous vous rendons mille graces des
pamphlets que vous nous avez envoyes : ils nous
sont fort agreables ; car on met ici un tres-grand
interest a ce que vous dites et pensez de nous.
C'est a dire, que quand vousblamez quelques-unes
de nos operations, les aristocrates triomphent, et se
font gloire de votre autorite, tandis que les de-
mocrates disent que vous etes recuUs, que vous
n'etes pas encore a notre hauteur, et que vous ne
connoissez pas encore les principes. Quand vous
nous admirez, alors c'est different ; car pour le
blame et la louange, les Jacobins sont hommes
comme pour plusieurs autres petites choses. Mira-

delivered to us. We indulged the pleasure of talking much of you
with him. We endeavoured to settle for you the plan of a journey to
Paris, which we really think it is incumbent on you to put into early
execution. Consider well the pleasure we shall have in seeing you ;
all the interesting objects, which France offers to you, and you will
agree with us. We return you many thanks for the pamphlets
3'ou have sent us : they were very welcome ; for we feel a strong
interest in all that you say and think about us. That is to say, when
you blame any of our proceedings, the aristocrats triumph and glorify
themselves on the strength of your authority ; while the democrats say
that you are gone backwards, that you have not risen to our height,
and that you have not yet any knowledge of principles. When you
admire us then the case is altered ; for, in so far as blame and praise are
concerned, the Jacobins are much like the rest of mankind; as, indeed,
they are in many other small matters. Mirabeau has lately met with a

414 CORRESPONDENCE WITH April,
beau a eprouve un echec, dernierement ; il etait en
concurrence avec M. Pastoret, pour etre Procureur-
Syndic de notre depaftement. Danton a fait un
discours pompeux, pour prouver aux electeurs
qu'il devoit etre elu, mais cette fois 1' eloquence a
eu le dessous, et M. Pastoret l'a emporte.
Vous avez mille choses de tous les individus de
notre famille. Notre petit enfant prospere a mer-
veille, et nous procure deja beaucoup de bonheur.
Recevez l'assurance de la sincere et inviolable
amitie de mari et femme.

Letter LXXVP.
TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, London, April 5. 1791.
I make you no apology for not writing
sooner, because you deserve none. I own I have
been much disappointed, after all your promises, to
have received only one letter from you since your
departure. The only way in which I can account
for it is by supposing that you intend to return
very shortly, — the end of this month or the begin-

rebuff ; he was opposed to M. Pastoret as candidate for the place of
Procureur-Syndic of our department. Danton made a pompous speech
to prove to the electors that he ought to be elected ; but, for this once,
eloquence had the worst of it, and M. Pastoret carried the election.
Every member of our family unites in kind regards to you. Our little
child thrives wonderfully, and is already a source of much happiness
to us. Yours, &c.

791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 415
ing of the next, as you at first intended. The
olitics of Geneva at least will not delay you, as I
nderstand every thing is finally settled. I cannot
ive you my opinion of that settlement, as I am
ot sufficiently informed ofthe circumstances that
elate to it.
Kirkerbergher1, I am afraid, is quite forgotten
y you. I have written a few letters for him since
ou went, but he will not be able to go on with
pirit till you return. We have been anticipated in
>ur design by a real Kirkerberger. A man of the
lame of Wendeborn, who has published a book in
wo volumes 8vo., entitled, A View of England
owards the Close qf the Eighteenth Century.
'. have only seen the accounts which the Reviews
dve of it, and it seems accurate, and not devoid of
nerit ; but I do not believe that we shall find he
las often taken the same ground as we take. I
hought K. had been a name of our own invention,
jut I find Rousseau, in his Confessions, mentions a
Bernese of that name who made him a visit at the
[sle de St. Pierre.
There have been several answers to Burke since

" ' It appears from preceding letters that Mr. Romilly had been very
argent with M. Dumont to write a History of the French Revolution.
This suggestion was never acted on to the extent which Mr. Romilly
bad hoped that it might ; but a series of historical letters on the events
ofthe four months from April to September, 1789, of which he had
been an eye-witness, were written by M. Dumont, and translated into
English by Mr. Romilly. To this translation were added several
original letters of Mr. Romilly, on subjects connected with the manners
and institutions of England, and the whoje was published in one small
12mo. volume, in 1792, under the title of Groenvelt's Letters, which
name was substituted for that of Kirkerbergher, which they had at first
intended to give to this work. It is afterwards referred to under
the letter K. Various circumstances, which it is unnecessary to state,
prevented the intended continuation of this work.

416 CORRESPONDENCE WITH April,
you left us, but none that have much merit, except
one by Paine.1, the author ofthe famous American
Common Sense. It is written in his own wild but
forcible style ; inaccurate in point of grammar, flat
where he attempts wit, and often ridiculous when
he indulges himself in metaphors ; but, with all
that, full of spirit and energy, and likely to produce
a very great effect. It has done that, indeed, al
ready ; in the course of a fortnight it has gone
through three editions ; and, what I own has a
good deal surprised me, has made converts of many
persons who were before enemies to the revolution.
As you are not likely to see it soon, I will give you
a specimen of his manner. He is speaking of the
law of primogeniture. " The nature and charac
ter of aristocracy shows itself to us in this law. It
is a law against nature. Establish family justice
and aristocracy falls. By the aristocratical law of
primogeniture, in a family of six children, five are
exposed. Aristocracy has never more than one
child ; the rest are begotten to be devoured. They
are thrown to the cannibal for prey, and the natural
parent prepares the unnatural repast. All the
children which the aristocracy disowns (which are
all except the eldest) are in general cast, like or
phans, on a parish, to be provided for by the public,
but at a greater charge. Unnecessary offices and
places in governments and courts are created, at
the expense of the public, to maintain them." He
speaks of titles of nobility with true republican
contempt, and says that "they afford no idea," that
i Rights of Man.

791s M. DUMONT, ETC. 417
no such animal as a Count or an Earl can be
jund any where but in imagination."
Bentham leads the same kind of life as usual at
lendon : seeing nobody, reading nothing, and
writing books which nobody reads. His brother,
dio is a colonel in the Russian army, and a great
:iend of Potemkin's, is on his road to England, on
visit. My brother and sister desire to be remem-
ered to you. Yours sincerely and affectionately,
Saml. Romilly.

Letter LXXVII.
FROM MADAME G  .
Paris, 7 Avril, 1791.
Nous avons recu ces jours derniers encore
in paquet de vous, Monsieur, contenant les re-
lexions de M. Bentham sur notre ordre judiciaire,
me esquisse du regne de George III., et une re-
>onse a M. Burke. Nous vous rendons mille
;races de ces marques d'attention, fort agreables en
illes-memes, et qui ont de plus le merite de nous
tssurer de votre souvenir. Vous devez trouver

Letter LXXVII. Paris, April 7. 1791.
We have received within the last few days another packet
rom you, containing the observations of Mr. Bentham on our judicial
establishment, a sketch of the reign of George III., and an answer
;o Mr. Burke. We return you many thanks for these marks of atten-
ion, very agreeable in themselves, and which have the additional merit
)f assuring us that we are not forgotten by you. You must think that
VOL. I. E E

418 CORRESPONDENCE WITH April,
que nous y repondons bien mal, car nous n'avons
pu vous envoyer aucune brochure ni nouveaute
qui fut digne de vous. Nous avions pense un in
stant a vous faire parvenir les. Memoires de Frank
lin, dont nous avons ici une traduction informe et
incomplete, mais nous avons presume que vous
connoissiez, peut-etre, deja le manuscrit, et qu'ils ne
devoient pas tarder a paroitre en original a Lon
dres. Nous avons lu l'ouvrage de M. Paine en
reponse a M. Burke ; c'est la folie inverse ; cepen
dant il y a des idees assez piquantes, et assez
neuves, et qui sont assez au niveau de celles qui
remplissent les tetes Francises, actuellement.
Vous aurez surement pris part a la perte que la
France vient de faire par la mort de Mirabeau.1
L'impression que cet evenement a produite seroit
seule une preuve suffisante que la revolution est com
plete et achevee jusques dans les dernieres classes
de citoyens ; que les titres, les rangs, les places ne

we make a very poor return, for we have not been able to send you
any pamphlet or new publication worthy of you. We had at one moment
thought of sending you Franklin's Memoirs, of which we have here an
imperfect translation; but we presumed that you were, perhaps, already
acquainted with the MS., and that the original would shortly be pub
lished in London. We have read Mr. Paine's work in answer to
Mr. Burke ; it is the opposite extreme of madness ; it contains, how
ever, ideas somewhat new and striking, and which are pretty much on a
level with those which at present fill the heads of Frenchmen.
You will, no doubt, have felt for the loss which France has just suf
fered by the death of Mirabeau. ' The impression which this event
has produced, would alone be sufficient proof that the revolution is
complete, and that its effects extend even to the lowest classes of the
people ; that titles, rank, and office no longer dazzle us ; and that

Mirabeau died on the 2d of April, 1791.

791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 419
ous eblouissent plus, et que le talent seul sera de-
ormais l'objet des regrets et des honneurs. La
arriere de Mirabeau ne pouvoit pas finir dans un
loment plus propice pour sa gloire : six mois plu-
at sa mort auroit ete considered comme heureuse
our la chose publique, et il y a seulement deux
lois qu'elle auroit ete vue generalement avec in-
ifference. Mais depuis quelques semaines il avoit
sllement embrasse le bon parti, et on sentoit si
ien qu'il devoit faire reussir tout ce qu'il voudroit,
ue tous les honnetes gens avoient mis leur espoir
n lui, pour le retour de l'ordre et de la paix, et le
egardoient comme la terreur des factieux et le
outien de la constitution ; aussi, sa perte cause-
-elle des craintes exagerees peut-etre. II faut se
latter que les vrais amis de la chose publique se
allieront avec plus de fer mete encore, en proportion
le ce qu'ils sentent que sa mort peut leur 6ter.
vTous n'avons plus rien a apprendre, je crois, des re-
mbliques Grecques et Romaines, pour les honneurs

alent alone will henceforth be the object of our regret and of our
omage. Mirabeau's career could not have come to an end at a moment
lore propitious for his own fame ; six months earlier, his death would
ave been considered as a happy event for the public; and only two
lonths ago it would have been looked upon with general indifference.
Jut for some weeks past he had so entirely taken up the right side,
nd it was so strongly felt that he could not but accomplish whatever
e wished, that all well-disposed people had placed in him their hopes
3V the restoration of order and peace, and looked upon him as the
error of the factious, and the prop of the constitution. Accord-
agly, his loss has raised fears, which are, perhaps, exaggerated. We
lust hope that those who have the public good at heart will rally
nth a degree of vigour proportioned to their sense of the loss they
lave sustained by his death. We have nothing more to learn, I believe,
rom the Greek and Roman republics, with respect to the honours to
E E 2

420 CORRESPONDENCE WITH April,
a decerner aux grands hommes. Les spectacles, les
divertissemens publics, ont ete fermes : tous les
Corps, a. l'envi, ont decide de porter le deuil et de
se rendre a son convoi. L'Assemblee Nationale, les
electeurs, la municipalite, le departement, les
ministres, plusieurs clubs, une grande partie de la
garde nationale, &c. formoient le cortege le plus
imposant et le plus lugubre ; un concours innom-
brable de peuple etait sur son passage ; un morne
et profond silence regnoit dans cette multitude im
mense, qui paroissoit frappee d'un sentiment nou
veau et extraordinaire. C'etoit seulement grand
dommage que quelques vertus ne pussent pas se
Irouver dans le nombre de choses qu'on regrettoit
dans cet homme illustre, et qu'au contraire, le talent
s'y trouve obscurci par tout ce qu'il y a de degou-
tant dans la nature humaine. Son corps a ete
presente a St. Eustache, ou s'est fait le service fu-
nebre, et ensuite depose a l'ancienne eglise de Ste.
Genevieve, en attendant qu'il puisse etre place
dans la nouvelle eglise a cote des grands hommes que
be decreed to great men. The theatres and other places of public
amusement were closed, and all public bodies vied with each other in
their zeal to put on mourning, and to attend the funeral. The Na
tional Assembly, the electors, the officers of the municipality and the
department, the ministers, several clubs, and a large portion of the
national guard, formed a most imposing and mournful procession; an
immense concourse of people attended it on its passage ; a deep and
solemn silence reigned throughout the countless multitude, which seemed
to be overwhelmed by some new and extraordinary feeling. What a pity
it is that no virtues are to be found among the things for which this
illustrious man is regretted ; and that, on the contrary, talent was in
him obscured by all that is most repulsive in human nature. His body
was taken to St. Eustachius, where the funeral service was performed,
and it was afterwards deposited at the old church of St. Genevieve,
¦where it will remain till it can be placed in the new church, by the side
of the other great men whom the Assembly has thought worthy of

1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 421
' Assemblee jugera digne d'y admettre. Mirabeau
. conserve une tres-grande presence d'esprit et un
;rand sang-froid jusques dans ses derniersmomens.
1 fait par son testament un grand nombre de legs.
1 possede une terre, une maison, et 1'apercu de sa
brtune est d'environun million, mais on croit qu'il
n doit deux. M. de la Marck, son ami, a promis
e suppleer a ce qui pourroit manquer, pour que
es dernieres volontes puissent etre remplies, mais
A. de la Marck est endette au-dela de ce qu'il
lossede. II laisse quelque chose a Mad. le Jay, a
es enfans, puis a un fils naturel, ensuite a une de
es sceurs, et a ses nieces.
Mon mari n'a pas le temps de vous ecrire ; il vous
dresse mille choses.
Agreez, &c.

eing admitted there. Mirabeau retained great presence of mind and
omposure up to the last moment. He leaves, by his will, a great
umber of legacies. He possessed an estate and ahouse, and his for
me is estimated at about one million, but it is believed that he owes
uo. His friend, M. de la Marck, has promised to make good what
lay be wanting to carry into effect his last wishes; but M. de la Marck
imself owes more than he is worth. He leaves something to Madame
! Jay, to her children, to a natural son, to one of his sisters, and to
is nieces.
My husband has not time to write to you. He desires many kind
!gards- Believe me, &c.

E E ,3

422 CORRESPONDENCE WITH April,
Letter LXX VI II.
FROM M. DUMONT.
Sacconex1, 9 Avril, J791.
Voila done Mirabeau eteint au milieu de
sa carriere ! Est-ce un malheur pour la revolution ?
Je le crois, sa maison etoit un foyer de liberte.
S'il ne travailloit pas lui-meme, il faisoit travailler ;
il excitoit les talens, et donnoit un appui consi
derable au parti qu'il embrassoit. II etoit dan-
gereux, sans-doute, a cause de ses passions, qui le
gouvernoient absolument ; mais on pouvoit les
diriger au bien, et il avoit l'amour de la gloire.
J'ai senti, aux regrets que sa perte m'a faiteprouver,
qu'il avoit bien plus gagne mon affection que je
ne le savois moi- meme. On ne pouvoit pas le
connoitre et n'etre pas seduit par son esprit et
Letter LXXVIII. Sacconex ', April 9. 1791.
So Mirabeau is extinguished in the midst of his career ! Is it a
misfortune for the revolution ? I think it is ; his house was a focus of
liberty. If he did not work himself, he made others work : he sti
mulated men of talent, and was a strong prop to the party whose cause
he espoused. He was dangerous, no doubt, from his passions, which
exerted absolute dominion over him ; but even these might be directed
to good ends, and he had a love of glory. I felt from the grief that
I experienced at his loss, that he had acquired a stronger hold on my
affections than I had been myself aware of. It was impossible to know
him, and not be fascinated by his talents and his engaging manners.

1 Near Geneva.

791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 423
es manieres caressantes. Combien de fois il m'a
ait deplorer qu'il manquat a ses moyens la puis-
ance que donne une reputation intacte I II a ete
:onsume par ses passions ; s'il avoit su les moderer,
1 avoit pour cent ans de vie. Nos aristocrates
e dechiroient, et ils le regrettent. C'est uneperte
lour eux que celle d'un homme qui soutenoit le
:redit public.
Je compte partir du 20 au 25 de Mai pour
3aris, et du 10 au 15 Juin pour Londres ; ainsi
'arriverai vers le milieu de Juin, et je me re-
nettrai d'abord pour m'egayer et me distraire a
a correspondance de Kirkerberg. II faut renoncer
l faire un nom Allemand, puisqu'on ne sauroit
;n imaginer un assez dur, assez barbare, assez
jothique pour qu'ils ne s'en soient pas deja era-
>ares. Je suis presque siir que tout sera pret pour
e temps ou nous l'avons pense, et j'ai pris quel-
[ues mesures indirectes pour la publication. Ne
eroit-ce encore qu'un songa agreable ? mieux

low often have I lamented that his powers should have wanted the
ifluence of an viisullied reputation ! His passions have- consumed
im ; if he had known how to control them, he might have lived for a
undred years. Our aristocrats tore him to pieces, and they regret
lim ; the death of a man who sustained public credit is a real loss to
hem. I propose to set off for Paris between the 20th and 25th of May,
nd to leave it for London between the 10th and 15th of June, so that
'. shall arrive towards the middle of June ; and, by way of an agreeable
liversion to my thoughts, I shall at once set to work on Kirkerberg.
We must give up the idea of inventing a German name for our letters,
ince it is impossible to imagine one so harsh, barbarous, and Gothic,
a not to have been already appropriated. Every thing will be ready, I
lave little doubt, by the time we had anticipated, and I have indirectly
aken some steps for the publication. What though it should still be
lut an agreeable dream ? and yet an agreeable dream is better than a
E E 4

424 CORRESPONDENCE WITH May,
vaudroit un joli songe qu'un mauvais reveil. Quoi
qu'il en soit, je suis bien sur qu'on ne perd rien
pour attendre. L'interet ne diminue en aucune
maniere, et rien n'a paru qui doive decourager
l'emulation de nos correspondans.

Letter LXXIX.
TO MADAME G  .
Madam, Gray's Inn> May 20- 179J-
I am very much ashamed of not having
written to you sooner ; and I am ashamed, too, of
making you an apology, because you are so used to
such kind of apologies from me. The best apology
I could make, would be to give you an account of
the manner in which my time has been spent; but
I shall spare you the pain of reading so unin
teresting a diary, in which you would find me per
petually occupied in a way which, of all others, is
least pleasant to me.
I am exceedingly obliged to you for the very in
teresting account you give me of Mirabeau's fune
ral. I sincerely regret his death. You certainly do
not do him justice, when you suppose him destitute
of all private virtues. I know that he was capable of
very warm friendship, that he often exerted the
greatest zeal, and made very considerable sacrifices

sad waking. However that may be, I am sure that nothing is lost^
by delay. The subject loses none of its interest, and our corre
spondents have no reason to be discouraged by any thing that has yet
appeared.

1791. M. DUMONT, ETC 425
to serve his friends. I know, too, that he has been
very grossly calumniated in several instances which
have come under my own immediate observation.1
You have before this time heard, and, I make no
doubt, lamented, how the question respecting the
abolition ofthe slave trade has been decided in our
House of Commons.2 Nothing can be more dis-,
graceful to the nation than such a decision, after so
long an inquiry too ; and after that inquiry had
shown the necessity of an immediate abolition in
the strongest light possible, and had converted into
well authenticated facts what had before been only
matter of conjecture, and the supposed and pro
bable consequences of the trade. I believe the
history of mankind cannot furnish another instance
of a nation, calmly, and after, long deliberation,
giving its sanction to continual robberies and mur
ders, because it conceives them to contribute to its
riches. We have but one consolation under this
disgrace ; it is a consolation, however, which is
itself the source of another species of disgrace.
It is, that our House of Commons is not a na
tional assembly, and certainly does not speak the
sense ofthe nation. It is remarkable, that, though
the question was carried by a great majority, not
one man who has any character for abilities spoke
on the side of the majority, and all the members
who are most eminent for their talents took a very
active part on the side of the abolition. But elo-
1 See ante, p. 81.
- a On the 19th of April, 1791, Mr. Wilberforce's motion for leave
to bring in a bill to prevent the further importation, of slaves into the
British colonies in the West Indies was lost in the .House of Commons
by a majority of 163 to 88.

426 CORRESPONDENCE WITH May,
quence, humanity, policy, reason, and justice were
easily defeated by the most stupid prejudices. The
question, however, is not (as the West India
planters flatter themselves) now at rest. It will be
resumed iri a future session, and must before long
be carried. The arguments urged in the last de
bate, though they could not convince the House
of Commons, have produced a very great effect on
that large portion of the public whose hearts are
not hardened by opulence, nor their understandings
corrupted by commercial and political prejudices.
Even the arguments for the trade have contributed
to increase the public horror of it. One member,
an alderman of London, to prove the advantage of
slavery to this country, told the House that it
afforded a market for the refuse fish and corrupted
food, which could be sold for no other description
of persons. Undoubtedly, neither the trade, nor
even slavery in the islands, can exist for many years
longer ; and yet it is dreadful to think what misery
must be endured in the interval which is to elapse
before they are abolished.
We have had violent debates in our House of
Commons on the French revolution; and they
have produced a total, and, as it should seem, an
irreparable breach between Fox and Burke. Fox
has gained much with the public by his conduct,
and Burke has lost as much. It is astonishing how
Burke's book is fallen ; though the tenth edition is
now publishing, its warmest admirers at its first
appearance begin to be ashamed of their admir-
tion. Paine's book, on the other hand, has made
converts of a great many persons ; which, I con-

791. "M. DUMONT, ETC. 427
ess, appears to me as wonderful as the success of
Jurke's ; for I do not understand h'ow men can be
:onvinced without arguments ; and I find none in
'aine, though I admit he has great merit. It is
, book calculated, I should have thought, to
trengthen preconceived opinion, but riot to con-
ert any one. However, the event shows that I
ras wrong. The impression which it has made in
'reland is, I am informed, hardly to be conceived.
Jut the French revolution there has always been
iniversally popular ; and if the enthusiasm which it
las kindled should any where break out in acts of
iolence, it will certainly be first in Ireland.
I write to you in very great haste, and, I fear,
llegibly ; but I would not let slip the only oppor-
unity I may have of writing for some time. Pray
et me hear from you, and as often as you can
:onveniently. I don't deserve it by my letters,
>ut I do by my thoughts, which transport me
>erpetually iri the midst of your family. Pray
emember me very affectionately to all of them,
)afticularly to my dear friend G  .
Saml. Romilly.

428 CORRESPONDENCE WITH June,
Letter LXXX.
FROM MR. TRAIL.
Paris, June 27. 1791.
Nothing can exceed the good order and
tranquillity which have reigned at Paris ever since
the King's elopement.1 Some very seditious reso
lutions have been adopted and published by some
of the inferior clubs, and some abominable libels
have also been published against Lafayette and
the municipality, but, it would seem, with very little
effect. Profound silence was recommended to the
people on the entrance of the Royal family ; and
it was in general observed. I stood in the Champs
Elysees, on the edge of the road, from three till
hear eight, and I never saw more tranquillity or
even indifference on any occasion. An officer passed
us about half an hour before the King's arrival,
and called out as he passed, " Chapeau sur tete ! "
This order was punctually observed. I heard of a
young man, who lost his hat, being obliged to get
behind, that nobody might appear uncovered.
In all the conversation I heard, not a symptom of
pity or sympathy appeared — nor much resentment.
Ridicule, contempt, or great indifference, charac
terized all the observations that were made. When
the Royal family got out of the carriage, three
gardes du corps, who had acted as couriers, and
were brought back tied on the coach-box, were for
1 The King's flight from Paris took place on the night of the 20-21st
of June, and he was brought back on the 25th.

791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 429
ome time in great danger of being put to death
iy the mob, and even by the National Guards. A
leputation from the National Assembly arrived in
ime to save them: they are in prison. It is need-
ess to give you an account of the King's- being
topped. Every thing known about it has been
tublished by the Assembly. It is certain that the
iing has repeatedly declared that he did not mean
o quit the kingdom. When Lafayette's aide-de-
:amp presented him with the decrees the Assembly
lad passed immediately on the discovery of his
light, it is said both the King and Queen expressed
hemselves with much violence and resentment.
I have been much entertained in listening to the
liscussions in the groups formed in the Palais
Eloyal and in the streets. I have heard very little
dolence against the King, a good deal against the
^ueen, but still more against those who assisted
;heir escape. " Le Gros Cochon " is the most
common appellation. They seem unwilling to be-
ieve that the guards about the Tuileries knew
lothing of the elopement. A woman said, speak-
ng of the Queen and Made. Elizabeth's escape,
' S'il avoit ete question de Made. d' Artois et de
Made. de Provence, je les aurois cru echappees en
sonnes Savoyardes par la cheminee." When the
King was passing yesterday, a man by me said,
'¦' Voila vingt-cinq millions perdus, pour un Louis
jagne!" The day the King went off, it was a very
:ommon reflection that the nation would save thirty
millions a year. I did then suppose that the general
apinion was for a Republic ; but I am now persuaded
[ was mistaken, for since, nobody talks of it — at

430 CORRESPONDENCE WITH June,
least very few. All the schemes I have heard pro
posed, imply continuing the monarchical form of
government. They do also all imply setting aside
in effect, if not also in form, the present Sovereign.
When the commissaries from the Assembly met
the Royal family, the Queen said, " Eh bien,
factieux, vous triomphez encore ! " She asked La
fayette's aide-de-camp, who came up with her at
Varennes, " En quel etat est Paris ? " " Dans la
plus parfaite tranquillite ; votre depart n'inspiroit
que du mepris." The King, on his arrival, was, it
is said, much intoxicated. A thousand other cir
cumstances are repeatedly mentioned. I give you
these, as the most likely to be true of all I have
heard. When the people were destroying all the insignia
of royalty they could find on signs, &c, they
came to the head of the King of England, a sign
of one of the restaurateurs in the Palais Royal ;
when they were about to " faire main basse," an
orator persuaded them that the King of England
was a good man, and the only good king in Europe,
and so saved his Majesty's head. I did not hear
what arguments he employed.
After Petion and Barnave got into the carriage
with the Royal family, the Dauphin examined the
legend on Barnave's buttons, one after another, and
at last said, " Vivre libre, ou mourir partout, Ma-
man." Voltaire's funeral procession will probably be put
off. They say here, "Le clerge a refuse d'enterrer
Voltaire, et Voltaire a enterre le clerge."

)1. M. DUMONT, ETC. 481
Letter LXXXI.
TO MADAME G  .
Madam , Gray's Inn, August 2.1791.
Indeed it is not just that you should always
it to receive a letter from me, before you let me
ve that pleasure. You have many subjects to
ite on, while I have none that are worth saying
y thing about. Every day furnishes materials
• a volume in the land of wonders which you
habit ; but here every day passes exactly like
at which went before it. I speak of London ;
r at Birmingham1, that happy uniformity, which
the effect of peace and prosperity, has been
eadfully interrupted. It is very singular that
I the persons who have most suffered from the
ltrages of the rioters, were persons particularly
stinguished for their benevolence and charity,
id who had most contributed to the prosperity
' Birmingham by their industry. But all their
rtues were of no avail in the eyes of men who
id been deluded, by those who are very improperly
lied their superiors, into a belief that they in-
nded to overturn the civil and ecclesiastical con-
itution of the country. I do not say this from
mjecture, for I am just returned from Birmingham,
here I have had occasion to inquire particularly
to the causes and circumstances of the riots ;
id I am perfectly convinced that the persons
1 The Riots at Birmingham took place on the 14th of July and fol-
ring days.

432 correspondence with ' Sept.
who were the most active in .destroying and burn
ing the chapels and houses, are not by any means
the most criminal. The celebration of the French
Revolution was entirely forgot in the rage of the
people against the dissenters. Several of those
who have most suffered, were not at the dinner,
and had never entertained any thoughts of going
thither : and the only cry that was heard among
the mob was, " Church and King for ever, and
down with the Presbyterians I " I inclose Dr.
Priestley's and another letter giving an account of
the dinner, which may perhaps entertain you.
Pray have the charity to write to me soon, and
send me good news ofthe health of your little girl,
for Mr. Trail does not mention her so often as her
mother. I beg to be remembered very sincerely and
affectionately to M. G  , to Made. D  , and to
all your family. Yours, &c, Saml. Romilly.

Letter LXXXII.
TO M. DUMONT.
Dear Dumont, September 6. 1791.
I send you the conclusion of the letter on
Lotteries ', and another letter on Cruelty towards
Animals. I believe I formerly read it to you ; but
I have since added to it, and I think improved it.
It consists of scarcely any thing but description ;
1 See note, p. 415.

1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 433
jut the subject admits of nothing else. Men can-
lot be reasoned into humanity, and perhaps our
eaders will not be sorry to find that we do not
jrgotise for ever.
I have added several passages from you to the
etter on Elections and some of my own, and on
he whole I think it much better than it was. I
lave been working very hard since you left us. I
lope you have done the same. I long to see some
)f your original letters. Remember that, as yet,
ince K. has been in England, you have done no-
hing but translate. Pray send me originals and
ranslations as fast as you can. I can hardly reckon
lpon more than a month's leisure, if so much, and
ifter that, adieu to K. Enable me to make the best
ise of my time. Never send me a larger packet
;han I now send you, lest K. should cost me more
n MS. than he will ever repay me in print.
Yours affectionately, S. R.

Letter LXXXIIL
FROM MR. GEORGE WILSON. •
Hotel du Roi, au Carousel,
Dear Romilly, Wednesday night, Sept. 21. 1791.
You have in the French papers probably
nore French news than I can give you. Since the
1 The following account of Mr. Wilson and Mr. Trail is taken from
eopy preserved by Sir Samuel Romilly of a letter written by him to
lir Jas. Mackintosh, in 1816 : — " Cabalva, Sept. 8. 1816.
" Whishaw told me, just before he left town, that you were desirous of
nowing where I first became acquainted with our late excellent friend
VOL. I. V F

434 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Sept.
completion of the constitution, the Assembly has
been dull, and we have gone seldom : we were

George Wilson ; and I intended immediately to have written to you,
but the unusually early and late sittings of the Chancellor day after day
for the last three weeks, left me not a moment that I could call my
own, and it really has not been till I have got out of town that I have
had an instant of leisure. My first acquaintance with Wilson was in
the year 1784. The first circuit I went, which was in the spring of
that year, I met Trail, who was then travelling it for the last time.
Having gone round to every assize town for three successive circuits,
without having a single brief, he gave it up in despair, as he afterwards
relinquished the Chancery bar. He was a very remarkable instance of a
man most eminently qualified to have attained the highest honours of the
profession, but who, having no other recommendation than his great
talents, was indeed respected, admired, and consulted continually ; but
it was only by those who were of the same rank in the profession
with himself. No attorney ever discovered his merit ; he never got any
business, and the profession was to him only a source of expence and
disappointment. By being continually in the same society during the
three weeks or month that the circuit lasted, we became very well ac
quainted together ; and he was so intimate with Wilson, that it was
impossible to have formed a friendship with him, and not frequently to
be in Wilson's society. In a short time I became as intimate with the
one as with the other, and our friendship remained undiminished and
uninterrupted for a moment till I lost both of them by death — Trail in
1809, and Wilson in the present year.
" You were yourself so well acquainted with Wilson, that it is not
likely that I should be able to inform you of any incident of his life, or
any ingredient in his character, which is not already known to you.
Perhaps, however, you may not have had so many opportunities as my
self of observing his great sensibility and warmth of affection. Under
a cold and reserved exterior he had the warmest attachment to his
friends, and the tenderest sympathy for the misfortunes of others, that
I ever met with ; and though there was something of austerity in his
manner, he was singularly kind and even indulgent to all about him.
You knew, and must have remarked, the clearness of his understanding,
the soundness of his judgment, the propriety and perspicuity of his
language, and the great extent of his learning as a lawyer, and the readi
ness with which he applied it. That with such qualifications so uni
versally known, acknowledged, and brought into practice as they were
by his being for many years the leader of the Norfolk circuit, he should
never have been raised to a judicial station, or, I should rather say,
should never have had such a situation offered to him, must be admitted
to be matter of just reproach to those at whose disposal judicial offices
are placed. If judgeships were elective, and the Bar — that is, the men
best able to estimate the qualifications of a candidate — were the electors
he would, by their almost unanimous suffrages, have been raised to the
Bench. But, in truth, it was his other admirable endowments which
prevented justice being done to his professional merit. If he had en-

91. M. DUMONT, ETC. 435
•esent when the King's letter ' was read, and en-
yed the transport with which it was received by
I parts of the Salle, except the cdte droit, who
mg their heads and were silent. The proposi-
>n for an amnesty was prodigiously applauded by
e public tribunes ; and the moment the reading
as over, the people in them rushed to the door,
imbling over each other as if the house had been
1 fire, to tell the news all over Paris. At the
hamp de Mars, on Sunday, the ceremony was
;ry fine, and the people pleased and good-hu-
oured, but without those transports which they
y were shown at the Federation. The illumina-
ans in the evening were very fine in the Champs

¦tained political principles less liberal and less honourable to himself
an he did, he would probably never have seen men, far his inferiors in
irning and talents, raised over his head to those honours which of
;ht should have been his. 1 say probably ; for, from what I know of
> disposition, I entertain much doubt whether he would, at any period
his life, have accepted the office of Judge, and whether the Ministers
ght not have had the credit of desiring to raise to the Bench, without
;ard to politics, a man whose administration of justice would have
en one of the greatest public benefits they could have conferred on
3 country, and yet have enjoyed what they consider as the solid ad-
atage of appointing to the office as determined a Tory as they could
d amongst their most favoured friends. He thought so modestly of
nself, and was so devoid of ambition, and so contented with the
iet enjoyment of the society of the small but well-chosen circle of his
Sessional and literary friends, that I believe he would have thought
: highest honours and the greatest emoluments of the profession too
irly purchased by the sacrifices they would have cost him, and the
inful duties to which they would have subjected him. Itwas not, as
a know, till very late in life that he was promoted to the rank of
ng's Counsel. It was at the instance of Lord Ellenborough, whose
vate friendship he had long enjoyed, that that rank was conferred on
n, and I know that it was with some hesitation and reluctance that
accepted it."
1 Containing the King's acceptance of the Constitution, which had
:n presented to him by the Assembly a few days before. On the
:h of September the sittings of the Constituent Assembly ter-
nated.
F F 9.

436 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Sept.
Elysees and the castle and garden of the Tuile
ries. All Paris was there, and the Royal family
appeared in the evening, and were well received,
though perhaps with less enthusiasm than La
fayette. On Monday, " Richard " was given at the
Italiens to an immense house. The song, " O
Richard, O mon Roi ! " was not interrupted till
the excessive applause of the Aristocrats provoked
it, and the piece was heard throughout. A billet
was thrown on the stage, which the audience de
sired to have read; but as soon as it began, " O
Louis, O mon Roi ! " they stopped it, and a tumult
arose. After some time a juge de paix came on
the stage and commanded silence in the name of
the law, which to my surprise was immediately
complied with. He said the spectacle must not be
interrupted by this paper. If the verses were fit
to be published, they should have them in the
Journal de Paris, next day. The audience clapped,
the piece went on, and the verses have not been
published. Last night all the Royal family were
at the Opera ; the Boulevard and the house as
full as they could hold, and the most enthusi
astic applause without any alloy. One verse,
" Regnez sur un peuple fidele," Was encored, and
amazingly clapped ; and the applause, as far as I
could judge, was distributed to their Majesties
very equally. They have been very popular ever
since their enlargement, and the acceptation has
fixed it for the present, though the people in the
groups still express a distrust of the King, and
some of the Queen. There is a story very current
that the Queen has discouraged the Emperor from

1791. M. DUMONT, ETC 437
insisting the Princes, thinking that the King must
>e a cypher at all events, and that she is better un-
ler the present government than with the Princes
is conquerors.
Another story is, that the King said lately to an
tfficer of the National Guard, that he was afraid of
>eing assassinated by his brothers. Perhaps these
hings are circulated to persuade the people that
he King and Queen have an interest in and are
ittached to the constitution. It is of great import-
nee that their situation should be made comfort-
ible, and that the world should think it so ; and
he leading men and the bulk of the people seem
ensible of this, and disposed to contribute to it.
Bailly and Lafayette were in the next box to
;he King last night, and several leading men in
)ther parts of the house. Lafayette is to com-
nand at Metz, and Bailly ' does not.resign till No
vember. A letter from Monsieur and M. d' Artois
o the King, accompanied with another from the
Sondes, was published yesterday by Calonne's
:>rinter, and is said to be authentic. It is, I think,
11 written and injudicious. It treats all innovation
>n the old system as illegal and void, and does not
lold another assembly or any mode of forming a
:onstitution, and it is full of unpopular expressions
ibout nobility ; and the declaration of the Emperor
ind King of Prussia is given at the end, which
eems to bind them to nothing ; and the emigrants
it Spa now say, that every thing is put off till the
pring. Last week the invasion was fixed for the
1 Bailly had held the situation of mayor of Paris since the 14th of
uly, 1789.
F F 3

438 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Sept.
beginning of October. I was in hopes that the
amnesty would have brought back the greater
part of the emigrants, but this letter makes it im
possible for the Princes at least. Three deputies
have been chosen ' to-day for Paris, one a gold
smith, and all good men as I hear. Except Brissot,
and Garran de Coulon, and perhaps Mulot, I have
not heard of any violent man being chosen for
Paris, and we hear good accounts of the elec
tions in the country. Perhaps the best way of ex
tinguishing Brissot is to choose him. It made an
end of Wilkes. There is a story that Thouret,
Chapelier, Beaumetz, and Talleyrand are to be in
the King's council, without office or salary. I
hope it is not true. It would be an evasion of the
law which makes them incapable of office. It
would never be believed that they received no
emolument; and besides ruining these men and
hurting the government, it would throw a sus
picion on the whole work of the constitution,
which is at present universally popular. The
Republicans seem to be a very small party, and
their leaders men of no talent, and very unpopular
in the Assembly. I have never heard any of
them make a tolerable speech. The man with
whom I am most pleased is D'Andre, and he is
now clearly the leader of the Assembly. I have
heard an excellent character of him in private life,
and as a magistrate at Aix. He is going to set up
as a grocer. I never saw a man do business better,
or take his ground with more judgment. I have
1 As members of the Legislative Assembly.

1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 439
been sometimes at the '89 ', but do not speak with
sufficient ease to get on much there. The only
man of any eminence that I have made a little ac
quaintance with is Chamfort, who is a man of parts,
but too fond of talking and of systems. There is
a new book of Volney's, called Les Ruines, ou
Meditations sur les Revolutions des Empires, writ
ten chiefly before the revolution, containing reve
ries of all sorts in a bad form, with some good
things here and there. I have read but little of it.
Sutton 2 and Lens live in the house with us, and
we are much with Windham, Mitford3, and. Dou
glas. Every body sends you compliments, and we
hope to hear from you soon. Sutton has a note
to-night from Lally, who has a letter from you to
Trail, which we hope to get to-morrow morning.
I must conclude, because it is very late ; and I
must rise early to go to the Assembly, where we
expect a debate about the Colonies.
Yours sincerely, G. Wilson.

Letter LXXXIV.
FROM MR. TRAIL.
Dear Romilly, Paris, Sept. 26. 1791.
I had the pleasure of your letter by Mr.
Lally a few days ago. I was in hopes that be
tween Ascough and Wilson you would have had a
1 This was a club called the Club of 1789, established in May, 1790.
See Moniteur for 1790, No. 135.
2 Lord Manners. 3 Lord Redesdale.
F F 4

440 correspondence with Sept.
regular and circumstantial detail of what is pass
ing; but, with the best dispositions, they have
frequently delayed writing till the last moment,
and have then been prevented by some unexpected
occurrence. I believe, however, they have both
written at least once ; I am sure Wilson did last
week. Things continue pretty much in the same state.
The satisfaction with the King's unequivocal and
decided mode of accepting the constitution is still
manifest among all ranks of people. For the pre
sent, suspicion seems to be asleep ; and I think it
is not impossible, by a continuance of the same
Open and frank conduct, to prevent it from being
waked. Some hot-headed people and some specu
lative republicans are, or affect to be, alarmed at
the reception the Royal family meet with wherever
they appear, as if there was the most distant pro
bability of the people relapsing into their ancient
idolatry of the Grand Monarque. Last night the
King illuminated the Tuileries and the Champs
Elysees in return for the testimonies of affection, he
has received from the people. He went in grand
cavalcade with all the family, preceded by his ser
vants, and followed by Lafayette and the 6tat-
major, to the barrier to see the illuminations ; he
was well received by an immense concourse of
people wherever he passed. There was no enthu
siasm to alarm the anxious and timorous patriots ;
but there was a great deal of hearty good-humour
and satisfaction in everybody's countenance. Al
though the weather was not so fine as on the pre
ceding Sunday, there was a much greater assem-

1791. M. DUMONTj ETC. 441
blage of people in the Tuileries and Champs Ely-
sees : perhaps that was occasioned by the illumin
ations being much more splendid. I never saw
any thing so magnificent.
The National Assembly revoked on Saturday
the decree ofthe 15th of May1 in favour of the gens
de couleur. I am sorry it Was ever passed ; and am
rather inclined to think that it was wise, under all
the circumstances, to revoke it. It was certainly
understood in the colonies,-and with some founda
tion, to be contrary to the decree or declaration of
the 12th of October. It was very likely to occasion
a separation of the colonies from the mother-coun
try, as, at present, measures of vigour for its execu
tion could not be pursued. That event, though in
itself no great misfortune, would, however, have
been considered in all the trading and manufac
turing towns a great calamity, and have been im
puted to the revolution. Besides, it is more con
sonant to the grands principes that the colonies
should be permitted to decide on this matter them
selves. Barnave has throughout the whole busi
ness of the colonies behaved with great artifice and
mauvaise foi ; he has also met with severe mortifi
cations in ' consequence of his misbehaviour. He
made a very great speech, I am told, on Friday.
Douglas heard it, and was much pleased : so he is
in general with the manner of doing business in
the Assembly. Mitford is also a tolerable French
Whig. I am sorry the decree of Saturday is de
clared constitutional ; it would have been better
1 Making persons of colour born of free parents eligible to all colo
nial and parochial assemblies.

442 correspondence with Sept.
to have revoked the decree of the 15th of May,
and to have declared every thing relative to the
colonies to be within the province of the ordinary
legislature. The friends of the gens de couleur
in the Assembly are numerous ; but there is not
among them a good head, unless it be the Due de
la Rochefoucauld, who has certainly an excellent
understanding, but wants energy of manner. Your
friend, Dupont, has always a crotchet on which
he is entSte like a mule. I have not heard how
there appeared to be a decided majority against the
colonial committee, although on the appel no
minal there was a majority of above one hundred
the other way.
I have just glanced over Talleyrand's report on
national education. I don't like either his general
principles or his plan. I hope the Assembly won't
enter far into the subject; they have not time,
and of course they will do ill what they attempt.
It is adjourned to the next legislature. It is very
generally believed that the Queen is determined to
abide by the constitution rather than run any more
risks ; and that she is satisfied, if the Count d' Ar
tois were to succeed, the King would be a cypher,
and the Kingdom would be governed by the
Princes. The declaration of the Emperor and the
King of Prussia made but little sensation here ; it
amounts to nothing, and can only be considered as
a very civil refusal. The letter of the King's
brothers makes none : it is said to be Calonne's
workmanship ; it is ill written, and worse con
ceived. It is clear that, in thej^es nationales which they

1791. m. DUMONT, ETC 443
intend to institute, no religious ceremony whatever
will be admitted. This may be done on a sound
principle, which can offend nobody. The fgte
should be such as every French citizen can partake
of without violence to his religious principles.
Bailly has offered his resignation as Mayor of
Paris, and, at the request of the municipal body*
has delayed it only till November. It is said he is
fatigued ; and he has lately been insulted by the
people, and accused of forestalling corn, of which
he is, most undoubtedly, perfectly innocent.
A great number of Aristocrates have lately
quitted the kingdom. The letter of the Princes
and the declaration of Pilnitz have, perhaps, per
suaded them that a counter-revolution would be
immediately attempted. They all appear so tho
roughly mortified with the King's acceptation and
subsequent conduct, that I have not the least doubt
of his sincerity.
Sutton, Wilson, and Lens desire their compli
ments. Lens sets out to-morrow or Wednesday
for London and Taunton. Yours, &c.
James Trail,
Letter LXXXV.1
TO  .
October, J 791.
The impatience which in your last letter you
said you felt to know what had passed at the assizes
at Warwick must have been already pretty well sa-
1 The following letter is taken from a copy in the handwriting of
Mr. Romilly. S

444 correspondence with Oct.
tisfied by the accounts which have appeared in the
newspapers. If your curiosity was excited by the
expectation that, in the course of the trials, some
discovery would be made of the first instigators of
the riots, you must have been much disappointed ;
nothing of that kind appeared. The persons tried
were all men in Jow situations of life, and no dis
covery of any importance came out on any of the
trials. Twelve men were tried, and only four
were convicted. One was acquitted because the
meeting-house which he had burned had not been
properly registered, and therefore did not come
within the Act of Parliament. Against another the
counsel who managed the prosecution declined to
call evidence on account of his youth ; and the
other six were acquitted, although the evidence
against them was so strong that no rational being
could entertain the smallest doubt of their guilt.
Two of these six, Rice and Whitehead, acted as
the ringleaders of the rioters, and Rice had been
twice tried at Worcester and twice acquitted,
though his guilt was proved beyond all doubt. If
these two men had been convicted, it was hoped
that they might have made a discovery of their
employers ; and for this reason it is supposed that
the gentlemen, who have christened themselves
the friends of Church and King, were particularly
anxious for their acquittal. They were indeed an
xious for the acquittal of all of them ; and a private
subscription was made for the purpose of affording
the rioters all the legal assistance they could have.
Two counsel and an attorney were employed for
each of them, and three counsel appeared for the

1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 445
only prisoner who could afford to retain counsel
for himself; for the friends of Church and King
extended their generosity indiscriminately to all
who had risked their lives in so good a cause. The
assistance, however, which their counsel could
afford the prisoners was inconsiderable, when com
pared with that which they derived from the ab
surdity of the leading counsel for the crown, the
very extraordinary incapacity of the judge, and the
most profligate partiality in the jury. The counsel
for the crown began, in opening the first prose
cution, by telling the jury that the prisoner was to
be considered as an object of commiseration, and
that he acted under a delusion and a species of
madness, and he represented his case as that of a
man who, though mistaken, was sincere in his
opinions ; and all this of a fellow who was a no
torious thief, and had been tried several times
before at Warwick for robberies. An opening so
injudicious might induce any one to think that
government was not sincere in the prosecution,
and that they wished merely the show of a trial,
which should end in an acquittal. That, however,
certainly was not the case, and any one who has
been often a witness to the conduct ofthe leader of
our circuit has a much easier way to account for it ;
as it is a very usual thing for him to state a case as
strongly as possible against his own client, and to
sacrifice the cause which he is entrusted with to
what he thinks a stroke of wit or a display of elo
quence ; and this was the case at Warwick, where
his only object was to utter a nonsensical dissert
ation on difference of opinion, and to paint the

446 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.
devastation done at London in 1780, and at Bir
mingham a month ago, in a style that would very
well have suited the tragedy of Tom Thumb.
The judge, who has, and not undeservedly, the
character of being the very worst upon the bench,
who is totally ignorant of law, and who is incapable
of stating facts in a manner intelligible to the
jury, summed up several of the plainest cases for
conviction in the only way that could give the
jury a pretence for acquittal. In one case, after
stating the facts as strongly as he could to the jury,
and telling them that they were proved by four
witnesses, the veracity of whom was entirely un-
impeached, who had no interest in the matter, and
all of whom must be perjured, and must intend
wrongfully to take away the life of their neigh
bour if he was innocent, he concluded with telling
them that whichever way they found their verdict
would be equally satisfactory to him. Two of the
men who destroyed Dr. Priestley's house were con
victed ; and as the evidence against them was not
at all stronger than what was given against several
of those who were acquitted, it can be ascribed to
nothing but to a speech which was made by Mr.
Coke, another of the counsel for the crown, on
opening the prosecution, in which he represented
to the jury the scandal which their conduct in ac
quitting men accused of such offences, contrary to
the plainest evidence, would bring on themselves
and on the country. The jury, who, being most
of them men of property in Birmingham, conceived
themselves to be gentlemen, and who thought they
might give false judgments and commit perjury

1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 447
without any reproach to their reputation, but that
to suffer themselves to be told of what they had
done without resenting it would bring an indelible
stain on their honour, immediately took fire and
complained to the judge; and afterwards one of
them told a friend of mine that he thought they
were bound, as gentlemen, to insist on Mr. Coke's
making them satisfaction, or fighting them one
after another. Mr. Burke's favourite spirit of chi
valry, you see, is not quite extinguished ; .and when
one finds so much of it still prevailing among the
noblesse of Birmingham, one. cannot be surprised
that the doctrines of the National Assembly are
with them so unpopular. The rage which prevails
in Warwickshire against the Dissenters is not to be
conceived by any one who has not been there.
There is no story so incredible, no calumny so
gross, as does not meet with implicit credit, and
the most speedy propagation among the friends of
Church and King ; and the complete refutation of
one calumny, instead of begetting distrust of the
truth of another, only procures it a more easy
reception. The appetite for defamation grows
stronger as it has missed the prey, of which it
thought itself secure. I heard one of these zealots
declaring his utter detestation, not of Dissenters in
general, but of those of Birmingham, founded, as
he said, on the whole of their conduct, which he
declared to have been scandalous and infamous
beyond all example. These expressions were so
strong, and were uttered with so much vehe
mence, that I thought I had now at last found the
opportunity, which I had so often wished for before

448 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Oct.
in vain, of hearing some specific charges which had
been the pretext for the persecution ; and I ven
tured to ask the gentleman what were the facts to
which he alluded ; but I am afraid my question,
though certainly unintentionally, was expressed in
such a way as betrayed more doubt than curiosity;
for he told me, with great impatience, that it was
to no purpose to talk with a person so prejudiced
as I was. The sufferers by the riots, though several
of them were in Warwick, thought it decent not
to appear in court, and indeed they had no more
business there than any other spectator ; but I
heard it observed by a warm Churchman, that not
one of the Dissenters had dared to show his face in
court during the trials. The prosecutions have all
been conducted entirely by the Solicitor of the
Treasury ; and yet I have heard many persons say
that the Dissenters were so malignant that they
tried to get all the rioters hanged, and that they
would not be satisfied unless they could hang half
the town of Birmingham. The Dissenters had es
tablished a Sunday school at Warwick, and through
mere charity had sent thither some children of
poor persons who were of the Church of England.
This diabolical conduct has produced several meet
ings of the Churchmen of Warwick ; and, with a
Rev. Mr. Daniel in the chair, they have voted this
conduct to be a dangerous attack upon the rights
ofthe Church, and have appointed a committee to
watch over and protect the Church from invasion.
In a word, the spirit that prevails against Dissenters
now in Warwickshire, and, I believe, in some of
the adjoining counties, is not unlike that which

1 791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 449
raged against the Catholics in the time of the
famous Popish plot. A gentleman of good edu
cation, and who, on all other subjects, is certainly
a sensible man, told me, .as a story which he had
heard from good authority, and to which he gave
implicit credit, that, on the day after the revolu
tionary dinner, a hamper was brought to the hotel,
and left there without direction ; that, on being
opened, it was fourid to be full of daggers, and that
it has never since been sent for, and no one knows
by whom it was brought.
At the time of the riots, a common cry among
the mob was, '" No philosophers — Church and
King for ever ! " and some persons painted up on
their houses, "No philosophers!"
< Two of the men who were convicted have been
pardoned ; one of them very soon after the trials
and without any application being made for him
by the people of Birmingham. His pardon was a
matter of great surprise to the Birmingham people,
as he was a man of very bad character. It is said
he has a brother at Windsor, who is in a mean way
of life, but with whom the King has sometimes en
tered into conversation in his walks.
Dr. Parr is almost as unpopular at Birmingham
as Dr. Priestley. The reason alleged for his un
popularity is, that, in a sermon which he lately
preached in the town, he mentioned Dr. Priestley
byname, spoke in praise of him, and recommended
some of his sermons. Perhaps a more probable
cause of his loss of popularity is, that he has had
private quarrels with the heads of the church-and-
king faction. But, whatever be the cause of it,
VOL. I. G G

450 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 1791.
the fact is certain, that he has the honour to be in
volved in the persecution of the Dissenters ; and,
himself an intolerant high churchman, he wonders
to find himself an object of enmity to an intolerant
high church mob.
Ille fugit, per qua? fuerat loca saspe secutus :
Heu famulos fugit ipse suos ! clamare libebat,
Actason ego sum ! dominum cognoscite vestrum.

Letter LXXXVI.
. FROM MADAME G  .
Paris, 1791.
Nous avons revu avec interet Mr. Smith,
puisqu'il nous a donne de vos nouvelles avec detail,
mais nous sommes extremement faches d'avoir aussi
peu profite de son sejour. II paroit partir avec une
assez triste opinion de notre Assemblee Legislative ';
il est sur qu'elle a bien perdu son temps depuis
qu'elle est assemblee, et que du bruit, du tumulte,
des denonciations, puis du tumulte et du bruit, sont
les seuls resultats de ses seances. Les tetes exaltees,

•Letter LXXXVI. Paris, 1791.
We had much pleasure in seeing Mr. Smith again, for he gave us
many particulars about you ; but we are very sorry to have enjoyed so
little of his society during his stay here. He appears to leave us with
but a poor opinion of our Legislative Assembly • ; and, certainly,
from the first day of their meeting, they have only been wasting their
time. Noise and tumult and recrimination, and then tumult and
noise again, are the only results of their sittings. Hitherto the en-

It had commenced its sittings on the 1st of October, 1791.

1791 • M. DUMONT, ETC. 451
jusqu'a present, y ont eu une grande influence.
Le desir general de la nation actuellement est
pourtant celui de la paix et du repos. Toutes les
classes de la societe sentent que les temps de revo
lution ne sont favorables ni aux affaires ni aux
plaisirs ; et depuis ceux qui ont besoin de gagner
leur vie, jusqu'a ceux qui ne veulent la passer qu'a
jouir, tous souhaitent egalement I'affermissement
de l'ordre. Mais il y a quelques obstacles qui s'op-
posent a 1'accomplissement de ce vceu general, et
nous serons encore assez longtemps obliges de les
combattre. Les emigrations sont dans ce moment
plus nombreuses que jamais ; on dit meme qu'elles
gagnent d'autres classes que celle de l'ancienne
noblesse. II est tres-difficile de deviner les motifs
qui peuvent engager a cette triste resolution, car
les puissances etrangeres paroissent assez peu dis-
posees a venir nous attaquer, et nous nous bercons
beaucoup de l'idee que nous n'avons rien a en
craindre. On commence a s'effrayer de cette emi
gration, et l'on pense qu'il seroit prudent de prendre

thusiasts have had great influence among them, although the general wish
of the nation now is for peace and quiet. All classes of society feel
that times of revolution are not favourable either to business or plea
sure ; and from those who have their livelihood to gain, to those who live
only to enjoy themselves, all are equally desirous for the establishment of
order ; but however general the wish, there are several obstacles to
its accomplishment, against which we shall still have to struggle for a
long time. Emigration is at this moment more frequent than ever ;
and it is even said that it is spreading to other classes besides that of
the old noblesse. It is very difficult to conceive the motives for so sad
a determination ; for foreign powers seem little disposed to attack us,
and we even buoy ourselves up with the belief that we have nothing to
fear from them. People are beginning to be alarmed at this emigration,
and to think that it would be prudent to take some steps to put a stop
G G 2

452 CORRESPONDENCE WITH 1791.
quelque mesure pour l'arreter. Cette idee fait des
progres dans I'Assemblee ; je crois pourtant que ce
seroit une sottise, et que les gens qu'on retiendroit
par force seront toujours de dangereux et mauvais
enfans pour leur patrie.
Mon mari a re$u de votre part, Monsieur, un livre
interessant, et qui a ete lu ici avec avidite par quel-
ques personnes. II est flatteur pour nous de voir
notre constitution defendue par des etrangers.
Nous ne pouvons cependant nous dissimuler qu'elle
s'est assez ressentie de notre caractere Francois,
facilement exalte, et presomptueux. Nous avons
voulu n'imiter personne, et nous n'avons point pro
fite des lecjons que nous offroient Texperience des
autres nations. Si nous nous determinons au
moins a nous laisser eclairer par notre propre ex
perience, et a reconnoitre sans partialite les defauts
de notre gouvernement qui nous blesseront, ce sera
deja beaucoup, et nous serons alors assez avances.
Nous avons une petite fille qui a un an accompli,

to it. This notion gains ground in the Assembly j but I think that it
would be an act of folly, for those who are retained in a country by
force will always be dangerous and bad citizens.
My husband has received an interesting book from you, which has
been read here by some with avidity. It is flattering to us to see
bur constitution defended by foreigners ; but we cannot, at the same
time, conceal from ourselves that it has a tinge of the French character
which so easily gives way to extravagance and presumption. We were
determined not to imitate; we have, therefore, not profited by the
lessons which the history of other nations supplied us with. If we re
solve at least to submit to be guided by our own experience, and im
partially acknowledge those faults of our own government which
may be injurious to us, it will be a great point gained : we shall then
have made some progress.
Our little girl, who is just a year old, begins to walk and to lisp a few

1791. M. DUMONT, ETC. 453
qui commence a marcher et a begayer quelques
mots : dans quelque temps nous lui verrons former
des idees. Nous tacherons d'etre raisonnables, de
suivre les conseils de notre Emile, et de ne pas
gater cette plante confiee a nos soins.
< Nous avons du regret de n'avoir ni livres nou-
veaux, ni brochures interessantes a remettre a M.
Smith. Nous n'avons a vous envoyer que les as
surances bien sinceres de notre inviolable attache-
ment.

Letter LXXXVI I.
TO MADAME G  .
• Madam, Lincoln's Inn, Dec. 6. 1791.
Indeed your letters do not need to be scarce
to make them valuable. As for mine, I wonder
you have the patience to read them. I write from
a country which furnishes no event worth commu
nicating to you. About myself, I have nothing to
write ; my life passes without any incidents in it,
and one day of it exactly resembles the former. I
have been passing the whole of the last summer in
town, seeing nobody but my brother's family, (for,
indeed, at that season, there is nobody here to see,)

words ; in a little time we shall see her forming ideas. We shall en
deavour to act with sense, to follow the advice of our Emile, and not
to spoil this tender plant entrusted to our care.
We are sorry to have no new books or interesting pamphlets to send
you by Mr. Smith. We can only send you the sincerest expression of
our unalterable attachment.

454 CORRESPONDENCE WITH Dec.
and scarcely stirring out of my room, but to go to
his house, or to take exercise. You may judge that
such a life does not afford any adventures to relate.
The most important transaction that has taken
place in it for a long time, and one which, for a
very powerful reason, I ought to communicate to
you, is, that I have changed my chambers, and
that your future letters are not to be addressed to
Gray's Inn, but to Lincoln's Inn, No. 2. New
Square. I have changed much for the better
as a situation for business, but much for the worse
as far as my own pleasure is concerned. In
stead of having a very pleasant garden under my
windows, I have nothing but houses before me,
and I can't look any way without seeing barristers
or attorneys. This is another sacrifice which I
have made to a profession, which nothing but in
evitable necessity forces me to submit to, which I
every day feel more and more that I am unfit for,
and which I dislike the more the more I meet
with success in it.
We do not think at all more highly of the pre
sent national assembly here than you seem to do at
Paris. Nothing could be more mischievous than
the decree by which the last assembly disqualified
themselves. If any one wished to bring popular
elections into discredit, he could not do it more
effectually than by letting the people elect their
representatives, but forbidding them to elect those
in whom they had most confidence, and of whose
talents and virtues they had had experience. It is
certain that hitherto very little ability has been
shown in the assembly, either collectively or by

179.1. M. DUMONT, ETC. 455
any of its members ; but I have no doubt that they
will improve, and that much good may be expected
from them. I remember having heard Mr. Fox say,
that a parliament was so good a thing, however
ill it might be constituted, that, if it were to consist
of the first five hundred men who should be met pass
ing in a certain street, at a certain hour, it would be
better than to have none. I believe it better to
be governed by a very bad national assembly thari
by a very good king. I cannot but persuade my
self that there are men of great talents in the
assembly who have not yet spoken. It was natural
to suppose that the most superficial men would be
the most in haste to speak. Men who are con
scious of their own superiority are not so impatient
to discover it ; they wait for some occasion worthy
of them, and willingly forego a little' reputation,
jiyhich they are sure of reaping at some time or
other in the greatest abundance.
I have been exceedingly shocked at the insur-
lection at St. Domingo. It was natural to expect
that it would be imputed to those who have exerted
tujmselves in Europe on behalf of the negroes,
b^ause, if a bad cause be not defended by false-
"|§§od and calumny, it must remain without defence.
The planters have, ever since it was first proposed
tolabolish the slave trade, that is, for above five
yiars, predicted insurrections in the islands. Like
the prophecies of Henry1 IV.'s death, it was im-
tssible that they should not at last be right. It is
servable, however, that there has been no insur-
|ietion in any British island, in which alone it has
i Of France.

456 CORRESPONDENCE, ETC 1791.
ever been proposed to abolish the slave trade ; and
that, as there never has been any long period; since
the present barbarous system was first established,
without insurrections in some of the islands, there
is no more reason to ascribe the insurrection at St.
Domingo to the generous exertions of the friends
of the negroes, than to the taking of Ismael, or to
any other event that has happened in Europe.
The true cause of this, as well as of all the former
insurrections, is the cruelty of the planters ; and
one cannot but feel the warmest indignation, when
one hears men imputing that mischief, which is
caused by their own crimes, to the virtues of those
who resist them. I remain, &c. Saml. Romilly.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

LONBOS !
Printed by A. Spottiswoode,
New- Street- Square.