Washington and the American Republic, Vol. 3.

by Benson John Lossing

A little later, Lafayette wrote: “The refugees hovering about the frontiers; intrigues in most of the despotic and aristocratic cabinets; our regular army divided into tory officers and undisciplined soldiers; licentiousness among the people not easily repressed; the capital, that gives the tone to the empire, tossed about by anti-revolutionary or factious parties; the assembly fatigued by hard labor, and very unmanageable—cause me sometimes to be filled with alarm.”

These few sentences lift the curtain slightly from the terrible drama, then in cautious rehearsal, which was soon openly acted before the great audience of the nations. In place of constitutional order, there was the anarchy of faction in the French capital and throughout the provinces. The club of forty gentlemen and men of letters, who met in the hall of the Jacobin monks long before the states-general convened, had now grown up to a vast and popular association known as the Jacobin club. They were the avowed and determined adversaries of monarchy and all aristocratic titles and privileges, and contemner of Christianity; and they had started a journal for the dissemination of their ultra-democratic and irreligious doctrines, having for its watchwords—Liberty and Equality. It was puissant in spreading the spirit of revolt and disaffection to the king, and the greatest license began to prevail among the people. The king and his family were insulted in public. Lafayette, disgusted with the refractory spirit that began to prevail among the National Guards, resigned the command of them, but resumed it at the urgent solicitation of sixty battalions. The democratic spirit became more and more insolent, and at length the king and his family fled from Paris in disguise. Terror prevailed among all classes. A crisis seemed impending. Political dissolution appeared at hand. But the monarch was arrested at Varennes and taken back to Paris under an escort of thirty thousand National Guards. The helpless king assured the assembly that he had no intention of leaving France, but wished to live quietly at a distance from the capital, until government should in a degree be restored and the constitution settled. His justification was that he was subjected to too many insults in the capital, and that the personal safety of the queen was imperilled.

The populace were not satisfied. On the twentieth of July they met in the Elysian Fields, with Robespierre at their head, and petitioned for the dethronement of the king. Four thousand troops fired upon them and killed several hundred. Then and there, in the exasperation of the people and the appearance of Robespierre, the epoch of the Reign of Terror dawned. Yet Lafayette and his friends held the factions in check. The constitution was completed early in September, and was accepted by the king, who solemnly swore that he would “employ all the powers with which he was intrusted in maintaining the constitution declared by the national assembly.”

Proclamation of this act was made throughout the kingdom, and a grand festival in commemoration of the event took place in the Elysian Fields. One hundred thousand citizens danced on that occasion; festoons of many-colored lamps were suspended between the trees; every half hour, one hundred and thirty pieces of cannon thundered along the banks of the Seine; and on a tree planted upon the site of the Bastile was a placard inscribed—

“Here is the epoch of liberty;
We dance on the ruins of despotism;
The constitution is finished—
Long live patriotism!”

On the thirtieth, the king made a speech to the assembly, when the president proclaimed: “The constituent assembly declares their mission fulfilled and their sittings terminated.” Then opened a new act in the French revolution.

While this revolution was thus progressing, half-formed, half-understood political maxims, that were floating upon the tide of social life in the United States, were crystallizing into distinct tenets and assuming strongly antagonistic party positions. The electric forces, so to speak, which produced this crystallization, proceeded from the president's cabinet, where the opinions of the secretaries of the treasury and of the state were at direct variance, and were now making constant war upon each other. Hamilton regarded the federal constitution as inadequate in strength to perform its required functions, and believed that weakness to be its greatest defect; and it was his sincere desire, and his uniform practice, so to construe its provisions as to give the greatest strength to the executive in the administration of public affairs. Jefferson, on the other hand, contemplated all executive power with distrust, and desired to impair its vitality and restrain its operations, believing with Paine that a weak government and a strong people were the best guaranties of liberty to the citizen. He saw in the funding system, the United States bank, and the excise law, instruments for enslaving the people, and believed that the rights of the states and liberties of the inhabitants were in danger. And as Hamilton was the originator of these measures, and they constituted prominent features of the administration, Jefferson found himself, at the opening of the new Congress, arrayed politically with the opposers of the president and the general government, and in the position of arch-leader.

Not content with an expression of his opinions, he charged his opponents, and especially Hamilton, with corrupt and anti-republican designs, selfish motives, and treacherous intentions; and then was inaugurated that system of personal vituperation which, from that time until the present, has disgraced the press and the politicians of our country, and brought odium upon us as a nation.

The party of which Jefferson was the head called themselves Republicans, and warmly sympathized with the radical revolutionists in France; while the great majority of the people—the conservative men of the country—who were favorable to Hamilton's financial schemes and the constitution, were called Federalists.

In the adjustment of party lines at this time, there was a very small party that appeared to be a cross between the two, as manifested by John Adams in a series of essays which he published in the United States Gazette, the acknowledged organ (if organ it had) of the administration, entitled “Discourses on Davila.” These were an analysis of Davila's History of the Civil Wars in France in the sixteenth century; and the aim of Mr. Adams was to point out to his countrymen the danger to be apprehended from factions and ill-balanced forms of government. In these essays he maintained that as the great spring of human activity, especially as related to public life, was self-esteem, manifested in the love of superiority and the desire of distinction, applause, and admiration, it was important in a popular government to provide for the moderate gratification of all of them. He therefore advocated a liberal use of titles and ceremonial honors for those in office, and an aristocratic senate. To counteract any undue influence on the part of the senate, he proposed a popular assembly on the broadest democratic basis; and to keep in check the encroachment of each upon the other, he recommended a powerful executive. He thought liberty to all would be thus secured. From the premises which formed the basis of his reasoning, Mr. Adams concluded that the French constitution, which disavowed all distinctions of rank, which vested the legislative authority in a single assembly, and which, though retaining the office of king, divested him of nearly all actual power, must, in the nature of things, prove a failure.