According to Garat he was mobbed in the street as one of Pitt's spies, and narrowly escaped immediate trial and execution; but even if his apprehension really took place in this way the danger could not have been so imminent as Garat rep


Vaughan repaired to Geneva, and had no sooner arrived than he despatched a long letter to Robespierre, written in a tone bespeaking intimacy, and an intention of keeping up a correspondence. He advised Robespierre to contract France to her former limits, and to convert her conquests into a fringe of free and allied States. By the irony of fate this letter, written as if to an autocrat, reached Paris on the night of the 9th Thermidor, when Robespierre, arrested but released, was making his last throw for life and power at the Hôtel de Ville. It was opened by the Committee of Public Safety, perhaps at the very moment when the fallen tribune was writhing in agony.

mania, but the Revolution upheaval turned merchants into fanatics and rationalists into mystics.

Stone's acquittal ought to have rendered Vaughan's return to England perfectly safe, and his brother-in-law William Manning, M.P. for Plympton and a staunch Tory, was assured by Pitt that as a harmless enthusiast he might resume his Parliamentary duties; but Vaughan suspected a trap. This was of course absurd, but it shows the atmosphere of distrust which then prevailed. He consequently never again trod English soil; but after living some time with Skipwith, the American consul in Paris, he rejoined his family at Hallowell, Maine. We do not hear that he took any part in American politics, but he doctored his neighbors gratuitously, was honored and respected, and died in 1835, bequeathing part of a fine library to Bowdoin College. Of all the English exiles in Paris he seems to have had the peacefullest old age.

In 1796, probably before his return to George Grieve, who hunted Madame Paris, Vaughan published at Strasburg a du Barry to death, is in every way a conpamphlet entitled "De l'état politique et trast to him. Grieve's grandfather, Ralph, économique de la France sous sa Consti- was a scrivener at Alnwick, who, on the tution de l'an 3." It professed to be a election of an incumbent in 1694, headed translation from the German, made by a the minority and was expelled from the foreigner who craved excuse for inaccu- Common Council. His father, Richard, a racies of idiom. It is an unqualified pan- few weeks before George's birth in 1748, egyric of the Directory, a system of was the leader of an election mob which government to be envied, according to stormed the town hall, thus frustrating the Vaughan, even by America, much more attempt of his fellow-councillors to proby England, Switzerland, and Holland. cure an unfair return. With such a linThere is an incidental reference to the eage George Grieve could scarcely fail to Reign of Terror as a political inquisition be an ardent politician; yet his elder whose rigor equalled that of the Spanish brother, Davidson Richard, was a quiet tribunal, and there is a very just remark country gentleman, high sheriff of Northattributing the atrocities of the Revolu- umberland in 1788. George, in 1774, tion in part to the despotism and supersti- headed the opposition to the Duke of tion under which its leaders had been Northumberland's attempt to fill up both trained. Vaughan likewise observes that seats, in lieu of being content with one, the mob generally respected private prop- and the opposition secured a narrow maerty, frequently yielded to the voice of rea- jority of sixteen, Alnwick itself pronouncson, and were rarely intoxicated, "which" ing for the duke. Four years later Grieve -an evident fling at the London and Bir- led a mob which levelled the fences of mingham rioters "cannot be said of part of the moor wrongfully presented by mobs everywhere." It is surprising, how-the corporation to the duke's agent. He ever, to find him not merely extolling the cumbrous and corrupt system of the Directory, but confidently predicting its durability and an era of peace and prosperity. He was manifestly wanting in political sagacity. He was also smitten with the craze of the Revolution being a fulfilment of the book of Daniel, and wrote a treatise on the subject, but had the good sense to suppress it, the printer saving one copy for Grégoire. A Unitarian should have escaped the prophecy-interpretation in Paris.

was of course a fervent admirer of Wilkes, and a zealous advocate of Parliamentary reform. His affairs, however, became involved, and like Pigott, he fancied England to be on the brink of ruin. Accordingly about 1780 he sold his patrimony, crossed the Atlantic, made acquaintance with Washington and Paine, and is said to have partly supported himself by his pen. He appears to have been sent on a mission to Holland, and then, about 1783, settled

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Grieve was to have dined with Marat the very day of his assassination, and he unwarrantably denounced the Jacobin expriest Roux as Charlotte Corday's accomplice, on the ground of having met him at Marat's house and seen him "look furious; " but this denunciation had no effect. He is said, however, to have boasted that he had brought seventeen persons to the guillotine. If the vaunt was true, it can only be hoped that his reason was temporarily impaired. Five months after Robespierre's fall he was arrested at Amiens and taken to Versailles, where twenty-two depositions were given against him, but on unknown grounds the prosecution was stopped. In 1796 he was back in America, where he published a translation of the Marquis de Châtellux's "Travels," unaware perhaps that John Kent, likewise an eyewitness of and pamphleteer on the Revolution, had brought out a translation in London nine years earlier. He eventually settled in Brussels, and died there in 1809. His tool and confederate Zamore, also arrested after Robespierre's fall, but said to have been released on Grieve's representations, lived, morose, miserable, and a vilifier of his benefactress, till 1820.

That such a man would throw himself again petitioned for her liberation, but into the Revolutionary movement is evi- this time in vain. Grieve superintended dent; but although he knew Mirabeau the search for jewels concealed in dungthere is no trace of Grieve's activity till | heaps, and got up the case against her. 1792, when he took up his quarters at an His manuscripts, still preserved at the inn at Louveciennes, the hamlet inhabited national archives, are in irreproachable by Madame du Barry. Here he formed a French. Not merely did he collect eviclub, which, the lady being in England in dence, but he was himself a witness, and quest of her stolen jewels, audaciously had it not been for his relentless persecu met in her drawing-room. Her Hindoo tion it seems likely that she would have servant Zamore, whom she had brought been left unmolested. up, had stood sponsor to, and had named after one of Voltaire's tragedies, proved unfaithful. She had loaded him with kindness, and as a boy he used, dressed like Cupid, to hold a parasol over her as she went to meet Louis XV. in the garden; but Grieve wormed all her secrets out of him, got an order for seals to be placed on her property, and placed her name at the head of a list of persons to be arrested. The power of the municipality to make arrests was, however, questioned, and for seven months Madame du Barry remained free, though in perpetual anxiety. On July I, 1793, Grieve escorted the municipality to the bar of the Convention, vehemently denounced her, and obtained authority to apprehend her, but a petition from the villagers, who had profited by her residence, procured her release. Thereupon Grieve issued a pamphlet describing her luxurious life, and holding her up to odium as a conspirator. He signed himself "Man of letters, officious" (this is surely a case for translating officieux officious), "defender of the brave sans-culottes of Louveciennes, friend of Franklin and Marat,* factious (factieux) and anarchist of the first water, and disorganizer of despotism for twenty years in both hemispheres." Madame du Barry, who had already dismissed one treacherous servant, now dismissed Zamore also. In September Grieve secured a fresh warrant against her, and singularly enough rode part of the way to Paris in the hackney carriage with her. What passed between them is a mystery. Was he enamored of her, and repelled with horror, or did he offer life and liberty if she disgorged? In any case it is strange that Madame du Barry, whose last lover but one had been an English- Henry Seymour, nephew of the Duke of Somerset, the Sunday-evening dancing in whose park at Prunay was remembered by old women still living in 1870 should have been hunted to death by another Englishman. The inhabitants


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Marat perhaps made his acquaintance at Newcastle, or while teaching French at Edinburgh in 1773.

We now come to Thomas Paine - the original spelling seems to have been Pain, and the French orthography was Payne

- who had twice visited Paris prior to the Revolution, but whose previous career need not be related. He paid a third visit in 1790, and a fourth in 1791, when four Frenchmen joined him in constituting themselves a Republican Society. On the king's flight to Varennes, Paine drew up a republican manifesto, which Duchatelet translated, signed, and placarded on the doors of the Assembly. Still clinging to royalty, that body was much scandalized, and threatened a prosecution. Paine likewise challenged Sieyes to a written controversy on republicanism. He returned to London in company with Lord Daer, son of the Earl of Selkirk, a young Scotchman enraptured with the Revolu tion, destined to die of consumption at Madeira, and with Etienne Dumont, Mi

rabeau's secretary. The latter was thoroughly disgusted by Paine's claiming the chief credit for American independence, and by his avowed desire to burn every book in existence and start society afresh with his "Rights of Man."

a French translation of which was read by Bancal while he stood mute at the tribune, evinced humanity and sagacity. He contrasted the success of the English 1688 with the failure of 1649, excused Louis as the victim of bad training, and warned France of the impolicy of losing her sole ally, America, where universal grief would be caused by the death of a king regarded as its best friend. In a sentence which goes far to redeem Paine's errors he said :

Almost the last act of the Constituent Assembly was to confer French citizenship on eighteen foreigners, that they might help to "settle the destinies of France, and perhaps of mankind." Paine was elected by Girondin influence in four departments, one of them styling him I know that the public mind in France has "Penne," and as Priestley wisely declined been heated and irritated by the dangers to to sit, he and Clootz were the only for- which the country has been exposed; but if eigners in the Convention. Madame Ro- we look beyond, to the time when these danland, repelled doubtless by his vulgarity, gers and the irritation produced by them shall regretted that her friends had not nomi- have been forgotten, we shall see that what nated David Williams in his stead. To now appears to us an act of justice will then avoid being mobbed, Paine had to make appear only an act of vengeance. a detour by Sandwich and Deal to Dover, Marat twice interrupted, first alleging that where the custom-house is said to have Paine was a Quaker, and as an objector rummaged all his effects, and even opened to capital punishment disentitled to vote, his letters; but at Calais he was greeted and then pretending that his speech had with military honors, cheered by the been mistranslated. crowd, and harangued by the mayor. Paine, unable even to the last to open his mouth in French, could reply only by putting his hand to his heart. His portrait found its way even into village inns, and an English lady archly wrote home :

At the very moment you are sentencing him to instalment in the pillory we may be awarding him a triumph. Perhaps we are both right. He deserves the pillory from you for having endeavored to destroy a good constitution; and the French may with equal reason grant him a triumph, as their constitution is likely to be so bad that even Mr. Thomas Paine's writings may make it better.*

On the fall of the Girondins, Paine discontinued attending the Convention, quietly awaited the impending arrest, and amused himself in the garden and poultryyard of his house with marbles, battledore, and hopscotch. On Christmas day, 1793, he was expelled from the Convention as a foreigner, and on New Year's eve was arrested simultaneously with Clootz. An American deputation vainly pleaded for his release, and on his asking for the good offices of the Cordeliers Club, its only reply was to send him a copy of his speech against the king's execution. Gouverneur Morris, the American ambassador, advised Major Monro, with more seriousness him as the safest course to remain quiet, and severity, exclaimed in a despatch to and Paine appears to have acted on the the English Foreign Office, "What must advice. Morris, however, was mistaken a nation come to that has so little discern-in thinking that he would then have nothment in the election of their representa-ing to fear. Not that there is any truth in tives as to elect such a fellow?" Safe Carlyle's story of Paine's cell door flying out of reach, Paine sent a defiant letter to open, of the turnkey making the fatal the English government, thanking them chalk-mark on the inside, of the door for extending the popularity of his book swinging back with the mark inside, and by prosecuting it, and sneering at "Mr. of another turnkey omitting Paine in the Guelph and his debauchee sons as "in-batch of victims; even at the height of capable of governing a nation." When the Terror men were not executed without this letter was read at the trial, Erskine, reprobating its tone, could only suggest that it might be a forgery, and urge that in any case it was irrelevant.

When the king's trial came on, Paine voted for his detention during the war, to be followed by banishment. His reasons,

• Residence in France, 1792-5. Edited by John


trial, nor without an indictment having been drawn up by Fouquier Tinville and served upon them at least over-night. Not one of these preliminaries had been ac complished in Paine's case. Carlyle, con trary to his practice, cites no authority for the story, but a variation of it appeared in the newspapers in 1823, in a biography of Sampson Perry, likewise a prisoner at the Luxembourg, who may have been accus

tomed to tell this traveller's tale. Num- is easy to be wise after the event. The bers of survivors of the Terror pretended Revolution was like a day in early spring. indeed to have been ordered for execution It commences with brilliant sunshine, and saved by Robespierre's fall; whereas light showers then pass over, black clouds the tribunal took a holiday on décadi, the next begin to collect, but there are still Jacobin Sabbath, and of the fifteen cases occasional gleams of sunshine; presently prepared for trial on the 11th Thermidor the hail pelts, the wind howls, there is a there was not one of any note. Paine's rumbling of distant thunder, but there death-warrant was really signed, but it seems still a chance that the sky will consisted in this memorandum, found in clear, till at last the clouds lower, the hori Robespierre's note-book: "Demander que zon narrows, the thunder peals, the lightThomas Payne soit décrété d'accusation, ning flashes, the rain falls in sheets, and pour les intérêts de l'Amérique autant que the day ends in blackness and darkness de la France." and tempest. The capture of the Bastille was the brilliant dawn, arousing an enthusiasm in which even the English ambassador, the Duke of Dorset, shared. Before the first anniversary arrived, clouds had chequered the sky, but till the September massacres hope predominated; even after Louis XVI.'s execution it appeared still probable that the Revolution would be appeased by the blood of its foes; and there were alternations of hope and fear till the Terror commenced :—

This animosity can be explained. When Marat was prosecuted in April, 1793, Paine gave information to the Jacobin Club that, addressing him once in English in the lobby of the Convention, Marat expressed his desire for a dictatorship, and though the letter was prudently suppressed Robespierre was probably cognizant of it. In May, 1793, moreover, Paine wrote a letter to Danton (found among Danton's papers and still preserved), advocating the removal of the Convention from Paris, in order that provincial deputies might be

free from mob insults.

Paine was released in November, 1794, and Gouverneur Morris gave him hospitality for some months, though his dirty and drunken habits necessitated his exclusion from the family table. On DeIcember 8, the Convention rescinded his expulsion, and ordered payment of the arrears of Parliamentary stipend; but he did not resume his seat till the following July, when he pleaded a malignant fever contracted in prison as his excuse. On his journalistic and pamphleteering activity, his refusal of one of the proposed rewards to literary men, his subscription of five hundred francs towards the invasion of England, which Bonaparte intended him to accompany, and his return to America in 1802, it is needless to dwell.

We have not spoken of the dozen Englishmen consigned to the guillotine, for though some, like General Arthur Dillon, were born in this country, they had become to all intents and purposes French; nor need we speak of the members of the British Club at Paris in 1792, which was soon broken up by internal dissensions. Beyond temporarily misleading the Convention as to public feeling across the Channel, they were merely eyewitnesses of the Revolution, not actors in it. It may seem strange that so many British subjects, or at least those in no danger of molestation at home, should have remained in France during the Terror, but it


France has shown a light to all men, preached
a gospel, all men's good;
Celtic Demos rose a demon, shrieked, and
slaked the light with blood.

We see all along what the end was to be,
but these English enthusiasts were liter-
ally ignorant of the morrow, and did not
easily renounce their illusions. Not till
they were fairly in the toils did they recog-
nize the gravity of their position. Flight,
moreover, became increasingly difficult.
Passports were refused or granted grudg
ingly; to depart without them was peril-
ous in the extreme, and even with them
there was constant liability to detention
as French aristocrats in disguise. After
the occupation of Toulon by the English,
all British subjects were actual prisoners
of war; and although about February,
1795, there was a general liberation, Lord
Malmesbury in 1796 found countrymen in
Paris anxious, but still unable, to return
home. It is easy to say they should never
have gone to Paris during the Revolution
or should have left before the Terror com-
menced, but how natural was it that those
whose sympathy had drawn them thither,
like numbers who watched the Revolution
from this side the Channel, should hope
and believe that every atrocity was the
last, and that these excesses were the
inevitable transition to the triumph of
liberty! The wonder indeed is not that
they remained till it was too late to flee,
but that they suffered nothing beyond im-
prisonment, coupled, however, with con-

stant apprehension of another fearful gaol delivery like that of September, 1792. It must be presumed that many of them altered their opinion of their own country's stability and institutions, and learned to prefer even an unreformed Parliament to the French Convention. They cannot at any rate have failed to contrast the Revolutionary tribunal with a British jury, and the guillotine with the heaviest English penalties for sedition.

From The English Illustrated Magazine.

Another morning Jacqueline and I went to the Hague, which looked especially bright and cheery that sunny day. In the afternoon we took an open carriage and drove down to Scheveningen, through the wood, by the charming road that is always a flicker of light and shade. On the beach the wide sands were terribly windy; the great hotels closing for the winter; the many summer visitors fled. Still, we liked seeing the fishwives with their great flapping hats, the sea strangely streaked green and grey; and one picturesque little sight I remembered of a red wagon piled heavily with brown nets, and drawn by three

A VISIT IN A DUTCH COUNTRY HOUSE. long tailed brisk horses abreast, clattering


ONE morning the Baron and Baroness P came up from the Hague, to spend the day at Lindenroede. Hugo took us for a long drive after déjeuner through the thick woods and bright villas round Bloemendaal village; and by handsome, finely wooded demesnes with long grassy drives cut through the trees, stretching straight from the highroad to the housefronts, seen in narrowing perspective. We passed our cousin W. C- 's large place, with its deer-park and noble old beech avenues than which I know few finer. And lastly we visited the famous old ruined castle belonging to the Counts of Brederode, and so often besieged. It is of mellowed red brick, as stone could only be had imported in this low country, and is still surrounded by a broad moat. After seeing Chepstow lately, Brederode was small to my eyes, but on climbing to the tower's flat roof, its especial charm was manifest. How one could recall the past! Beyond the dark moat washing the old walls, unbroken green pastures dotted with cattle stretched away for some miles around to Haarlem and its cathedral. Nearer, on the seaside, rose steep and sharp, if low, the white sand-hills, topped with turf, in all sorts of jagged, fantastic outline like miniature Alps. Exactly the same these meadows must have looked "long time ago," when the hunt rode out in the morning from the courtyard; or a jousting-match was held down below on the sward in the afternoon. After dinner here, the dames and squires came out "to play" in the meadow, as told in old romances, whilst the heavy old lords snored or caroused, and many a countess trailing her skirts along these castle walls must have wearied of her life and of the low, rich, but monotonous pastures lying there below her eyes.

and straining sideways over the sloping paved causeway laid down on the shifting sands. This was a most pleasurable day. And on others equally delightful, we went to Amsterdam. Once with Hugo and the Princess, when we saw everything I remembered of old, and more the wide canals full of craft, and the still broader and more busy Amstel; the dark-red houses painted almost chocolate, with white corniced wreaths round the windows giving them a comical funereal air, in spite of the noise and bustle generally below them; the Jews' quarter, where quick eyes will see the bit of hollow wood nailed to every doorpost containing the law written on a tiny scrap of parchment; the delightful Kalverstraat where we bought old silver and stared at far more, regardless of a tremendous shower. Then the Treppenhuis pictures; Vandýck's burghers, more kingly than kings; and the Weenixes, when I could hardly believe that I cared to stand and gaze, and then again come back and stare at dead hares-but I did! And beyond all, the Rembrandts, and dearest of these the noble old lady- a work of love - with the down of age on her chin, but such eternal beauty of soul shining through her wrinkled face that one knows she must have loved and suffered, laughed and wept, and lived as a true and good woman till she was painted there at eighty. Then to the Broeker-huis, a medieval little house transported piecemeal from Broek, ("cleanest village in the world," vide Murray), and set up here by the good Amsterdam corporation, all fitted with old furniture, and shown by a costumed young vrouw, to show this generation exactly how the "old people" lived; a most interesting sight. Later to be briefwhat a good table d'hôte we enjoyed at the Amstel Hotel; and how my friends detected one guest to be English, because

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