Except him, I do not recollect a man of rank or talents, who by his speeches or his votes, by his pen or by his sword, has not been active on this scene. The time, indeed, could admit no neutrality in any person worthy of the name of man. There were originally two great divisions in France: the one is that which overturned the whole of the government in Church and State, and erected a republic on the basis of atheism. Their grand engine was the Jacobin Club, a sort of secession from which, but exactly on the same principles, begat another short-lived one, called the Club of Eighty-Nine,[37] which was chiefly guided by the court rebels, who, in addition to the crimes of which they were guilty in common with the others, had the merit of betraying a gracious master and a kind benefactor. Subdivisions of this faction, which since we have seen, do not in the least differ from each other in their principles, their dispositions, or the means they have employed. Their only quarrel has been about power: in that quarrel, like wave succeeding wave, one faction has got the better and expelled the other. Thus, La Fayette for a while got the better of Orléans; and Orléans afterwards prevailed over La Fayette. Brissot overpowered Orléans; Barère and Robespierre, and their faction, mastered them both, and cut off their heads. All who were not Royalists have been listed in some or other of these divisions. If it were of any use to settle a precedence, the elder ought to have his rank. The first authors, plotters, and contrivers of this monstrous scheme seem to me entitled to the first place in our distrust and abhorrence. I have seen some of those who are thought the best amongst the original rebels, and I have not neglected the means of being informed concerning the others. I can very truly say, that I have not found, by observation, or inquiry, that any sense of the evils produced by their projects has produced in them, or any one of them, the smallest degree of repentance. Disappointment and mortification undoubtedly they feel; but to them repentance is a thing impossible. They are atheists. This wretched opinion, by which they are possessed even to the height of fanaticism, leading them to exclude from their ideas of a commonwealth the vital principle of the physical, the moral, and the political world engages them in a thousand absurd contrivances to fill up this dreadful void. Incapable of innoxious repose or honorable action or wise speculation in the lurking-holes of a foreign land, into which (in a common ruin) they are driven to hide their heads amongst the innocent victims of their madness, they are at this very hour as busy in the confection of the dirt-pies of their imaginary constitutions as if they had not been quite fresh from destroying, by their impious and desperate vagaries, the finest country upon earth.
It is, however, out of these, or of such as these, guilty and impenitent, despising the experience of others, and their own, that some people talk of choosing their negotiators with those Jacobins who they suppose may be recovered to a sounder mind. They flatter themselves, it seems, that the friendly habits formed during their original partnership of iniquity, a similarity of character, and a conformity in the groundwork of their principles, might facilitate their conversion, and gain them over to some recognition of royalty. But surely this is to read human nature very ill. The several sectaries in this schism of the Jacobins are the very last men in the world to trust each other. Fellowship in treason is a bad ground of confidence. The last quarrels are the sorest; and the injuries received or offered by your own associates are ever the most bitterly resented. The people of France, of every name and description, would a thousand times sooner listen to the Prince de Condé, or to the Archbishop of Aix, or the Bishop of St. Pol, or to Monsieur de Cazalès, then to La Fayette, or Dumouriez, or the Vicomte de Noailles, or the Bishop of Autun, or Necker, or his disciple Lally Tollendal. Against the first description they have not the smallest animosity, beyond that of a merely political dissension. The others they regard as traitors.
The first description is that of the Christian Royalists, men who as earnestly wished for reformation, as they opposed innovation in the fundamental parts of their Church and State. Their part has been very decided. Accordingly, they are to be set aside in the restoration of Church and State. It is an odd kind of disqualification, where the restoration of religion and monarchy is the question. If England should (God forbid it should!) fall into the same misfortune with France, and that the court of Vienna should undertake the restoration of our monarchy, I think it would be extraordinary to object to the admission of Mr. Pitt or Lord Grenville or Mr. Dundas into any share in the management of that business, because in a day of trial they have stood up firmly and manfully, as I trust they always will do, and with distinguished powers, for the monarchy and the legitimate Constitution of their country. I am sure, if I were to suppose myself at Vienna at such a time, I should, as a man, as an Englishman, and as a Royalist, protest in that case, as I do in this, against a weak and ruinous principle of proceeding, which can have no other tendency than to make those who wish to support the crown meditate too profoundly on the consequences of the part they take, and consider whether for their open and forward zeal in the royal cause they may not be thrust out from any sort of confidence and employment, where the interest of crowned heads is concerned.
These are the parties. I have said, and said truly, that I know of no neutrals. But, as a general observation on this general principle of choosing neutrals on such occasions as the present, I have this to say, that it amounts to neither more nor less than this shocking proposition,—that we ought to exclude men of honor and ability from serving theirs and our cause, and to put the dearest interests of ourselves and our posterity into the hands of men of no decided character, without judgment to choose and without courage to profess any principle whatsoever.
Such men can serve no cause, for this plain reason,—they have no cause at heart. They can, at best, work only as mere mercenaries. They have not been guilty of great crimes; but it is only because they have not energy of mind to rise to any height of wickedness. They are not hawks or kites: they are only miserable fowls whose flight is not above their dunghill or hen-roost. But they tremble before the authors of these horrors. They admire them at a safe and respectful distance. There never was a mean and abject mind that did not admire an intrepid and dexterous villain. In the bottom of their hearts they believe such hardy miscreants to be the only men qualified for great affairs. If you set them to transact with such persons, they are instantly subdued. They dare not so much as look their antagonist in the face. They are made to be their subjects, not to be their arbiters or controllers.
These men, to be sure, can look at atrocious acts without indignation, and can behold suffering virtue without sympathy. Therefore they are considered as sober, dispassionate men. But they have their passions, though of another kind, and which are infinitely more likely to carry them out of the path of their duty. They are of a tame, timid, languid, inert temper, wherever the welfare of others is concerned. In such causes, as they have no motives to action, they never possess any real ability, and are totally destitute of all resource.
Believe a man who has seen much and observed something. I have seen, in the course of my life, a great many of that family of men. They are generally chosen because they have no opinion of their own; and as far as they can be got in good earnest to embrace any opinion, it is that of whoever happens to employ them, (neither longer nor shorter, narrower nor broader,) with whom they have no discussion or consultation. The only thing which occurs to such a man, when he has got a business for others into his hands, is, how to make his own fortune out of it. The person he is to treat with is not, with him, an adversary over whom he is to prevail, but a new friend he is to gain; therefore he always systematically betrays some part of his trust. Instead of thinking how he shall defend his ground to the last, and, if forced to retreat, how little he shall give up, this kind of man considers how much of the interest of his employer he is to sacrifice to his adversary. Having nothing but himself in view, he knows, that, in serving his principal with zeal, he must probably incur some resentment from the opposite party. His object is, to obtain the good-will of the person with whom he contends, that, when an agreement is made, he may join in rewarding him. I would not take one of these as my arbitrator in a dispute for so much as a fish-pond; for, if he reserved the mud to me, he would be sure to give the water that fed the pool to my adversary. In a great cause, I should certainly wish that my agent should possess conciliating qualities: that he should be of a frank, open, and candid disposition, soft in his nature, and of a temper to soften animosities and to win confidence. He ought not to be a man odious to the person he treats with, by personal injury, by violence, or by deceit, or, above all, by the dereliction of his cause in any former transactions. But I would be sure that my negotiator should be mine,—that he should be as earnest in the cause as myself, and known to be so,—that he should not be looked upon as a stipendiary advocate, but as a principled partisan. In all treaty it is a great point that all idea of gaining your agent is hopeless. I would not trust the cause of royalty with a man who, professing neutrality, is half a republican. The enemy has already a great part of his suit without a struggle,—and he contends with advantage for all the rest. The common principle allowed between your adversary and your agent gives your adversary the advantage in every discussion.
Before I shut up this discourse about neutral agency, (which I conceive is not to be found, or, if found, ought not to be used,) I have a few other remarks to make on the cause which I conceive gives rise to it.
In all that we do, whether in the struggle or after it, it is necessary that we should constantly have in our eye the nature and character of the enemy we have to contend with. The Jacobin Revolution is carried on by men of no rank, of no consideration, of wild, savage minds, full of levity, arrogance, and presumption, without morals, without probity, without prudence. What have they, then, to supply their innumerable defects, and to make them terrible even to the firmest minds? One thing, and one thing only,—but that one thing is worth a thousand;—they have energy. In France, all things being put into an universal ferment, in the decomposition of society, no man comes forward but by his spirit of enterprise and the vigor of his mind. If we meet this dreadful and portentous energy, restrained by no consideration of God or man, that is always vigilant, always on the attack, that allows itself no repose, and suffers none to rest an hour with impunity,—if we meet this energy with poor commonplace proceeding, with trivial maxims, paltry old saws, with doubts, fears, and suspicions, with a languid, uncertain hesitation, with a formal, official spirit, which is turned aside by every obstacle from its purpose, and which never sees a difficulty but to yield to it, or at best to evade it,—down we go to the bottom of the abyss, and nothing short of Omnipotence can save us. We must meet a vicious and distempered energy with a manly and rational vigor. As virtue is limited in its resources, we are doubly bound to use all that in the circle drawn about us by our morals we are able to command.
I do not contend against the advantages of distrust. In the world we live in it is but too necessary. Some of old called it the very sinews of discretion. But what signify commonplaces that always run parallel and equal? Distrust is good, or it is bad, according to our position and our purpose. Distrust is a defensive principle. They who have much to lose have much to fear. But in France we hold nothing. We are to break in upon a power in possession; we are to carry everything by storm, or by surprise, or by intelligence, or by all. Adventure, therefore, and not caution, is our policy. Here to be too presuming is the better error.