Foulon, a French Official in the time of the great Revolution. This is that same Foulon named âme damnée (Familiar demon) du Parlement; a man grown gray in treachery, in griping, projecting, intriguing and iniquity: who once, when it was objected, to some finance-scheme of his, “What will the people do?” made answer, in the fire of discussion, “The people may eat grass:” hasty words, which fly abroad irrevocable, and will send back tidings. . . . We are but at the 22nd of the month, hardly above a week since the Bastile fell, when it suddenly appears that old Foulon is alive; nay, that he is here, in early morning, in the streets of Paris: the extortioner, the plotter, who would make the people eat grass, and was a liar from the beginning! It is even so. The deceptive “sumptuous funeral” (of some domestic that died); the hiding-place at Vitry towards Fountainebleau, have not availed that wretched old man. Some living domestic or dependent, for none loves old Foulon, has betrayed him to the village. Merciless boors of Vitry unearth him, pounce upon him, like hell-hounds. Westward, old Infamy! to Paris, to be judged at the Hôtel-de-Ville! His old head, which seventy-four years had bleached, is bare; they have tied an emblematic bundle of grass upon his back; a garland of nettles and thistles is round his neck: in this manner, led with ropes, goaded on with curses and menaces, must he, with his old limbs, sprawl forward; the pitiablest, most unpitied of all old men. Sooty Saint-Antoine, and every street, musters its crowds as he passes; the Hell of the Hôtel-de-Ville, the Place de Grève itself, will scarcely hold his escort and him. Foulon must not only be judged righteously, but judged there where he stands without delay. Appoint seven judges, ye Municipals, or seventy and seven; name them yourselves, or we will name them, but judge him. Electoral rhetoric, eloquence of Mayor Bailly, is wasted for hours, explaining the beauty of the law’s delay. Delay, and still delay! . . . the morning has worn itself into noon, and he is still unjudged. . . . “Friends,” said a person, stepping forward, “what is the use of judging this man? Has he not been judged these thirty years?” With wild yells Sans-culottism clutches him in its hundred hands: he is whirled across the Place de Grève to the Lanterne (lamp-iron), which there is at the corner of the Rue de la Vannerie, pleading bitterly for life—to the deaf winds. Only with the third rope—for two ropes broke, and the quavering voice still pleaded—can he be so much as got hanged. His body is dragged through the streets; his head goes aloft upon a pike, the mouth filled with grass: amid sounds as of Tophet, from a grass-eating people.—Carlyle’s French Revolution.
outlines and suggestive comments.
Two things, as herein is showed, do move the righteous unto joy. The one is, the honouring and good success of the just. When it is well with them that do well, the well-disposed multitude cannot but be inwardly glad, and outwardly justify this inward joy by signs and tokens of mirth. The other thing that moveth the well-disposed to rejoice, and even to sing (or shout) is the destruction of the wicked. There is great cause why the people of God should rejoice at the vengeance that is executed on the ungodly; for they persecute the Church, or infect many with their evil counsel and example, or draw God’s punishments on the places wherein they live. Thus did the ancient Israelites rejoice in old time, when the enemies of God were overthrown; and thus did we of late sing and triumph when the proud Popish Spaniards were drowned and confounded. . . . A kingdom is overthrown by the flattery, heresy, foolish counsel, and conspiracy of mischievous and ungodly persons. Thus a tongue can even build and overthrow a city.—Muffet.
The world, in despite of the native enmity of the heart, bears its testimony to consistent godliness (ch. xvi. 7; Mark vi. 20). . . . The people of God unite in the shouting occasioned by the overthrow of the wicked; not from any selfish feeling of revenge; much less from unfeeling hardness towards their fellow-sinners. But when a hindrance to the good cause is removed (ch. xxviii. 28; Eccles. ix. 18); when the justice of God is against sin (2 Sam. xviii. 14–28), and his faithful preservation of His Church (Exod. xv. 21; Judges v. 31) are displayed, ought not every feeling to be absorbed in a supreme interest in His glory? Ought they not to shout? (Psa. lii. 6, 7, lviii. 10; Rev. xviii. 20). The “Alleluia” of heaven is an exalting testimony to the righteous judgments of the Lord our God, hastening forward His glorious kingdom (Rev. xix. 1, 2).—Bridges.
By the good of the righteous; not “in the good” or “when it goeth well.” “By the perishing of the wicked,” not when the wicked perish. A city is very far from exulting in the good of the righteous, or in the destruction of the wicked. But “by,” or “by means of,” as the unacknowledged cause there comes the exulting and shouting. That is, a city is blest by the prosperity of righteous men. “Good.” This word cannot be properly translated. It means both good and goodness. If we say “good,” the “good of the righteous” will mean their welfare. If we say “goodness” it will mean their piety. The word in the Hebrew means both. The text to be complete must confine itself to neither. The city is not only blessed by the good that characterises the righteous, but by the good that happens to them. How glorious this becomes when “the righteous” means the Church! The wilderness and the solitary place have been glad for her. It is true of all the universe. As the history of heaven and hell, the “good of the righteous,” and “the perishing of the wicked” will breed universal benefit. It was such texts as these that moved the Papists to realise the good by actually slaughtering the wicked out of the land. . . . Piety is in proportion to usefulness. If a Christian does not bless his city, it is a mark against him. “Bless” means to invoke good. “The mouth of the wicked” pulls down a neighbourhood by every form of teaching. The righteous builds it, and especially by prayer.—Miller.
“The mouth of the wicked.” Whether he be a seedsman of sedition or a seducer of the people, a Sheba or a Shebna, a carnal gospeller or a godless politician, whose drift is to formalise and enervate the power of the truth, till at length they leave us a heartless and sapless religion. “One of these sinners may destroy much good” (Eccles. ix. 18).—Trapp.
Good men have not only God’s hand to give them good things, but godly men’s hearts to be joyful for them. When Mordecai was advanced, the city of Shushan rejoiced and was glad. When the Lord showed His great mercy on Zacharias and Elizabeth in giving them a son, their kinsfolk and neighbours came and rejoiced with them. . . . It is well known that righteous men will make their brothers commoners with them in their prosperity; when they are advanced, others shall not be disgraced thereby: when they are enriched, others shall not be impoverished thereby: when they are made mighty, others shall not be weakened thereby; And so it is said concerning Mordecai, that when the royal apparel was on his back, and the crown of gold on his head, that unto the Jews was come light, and joy, and gladness and honour (Esth. viii. 16). . . . Here is instruction to them that be desirous to gain the hearts of honest men. . . . Many men desire to be popular, but few to be righteous. . . . Good liking is not gotten by pomp and power, and favour is not gained by wealth and riches, and love is not commanded by authority and dignity. These may be allured with goodness, but never compelled by violence.—Dod.
Such is the nature of righteousness, that though it cannot make all to love it, yet it maketh all to love the welfare of the righteous. Origen therefore saith, that the few righteous which were in Jerusalem were not carried into captivity for their own offences, but that the captive people might rejoice in their welfare. For, saith he, had the wicked only been carried away, and the righteous remained, the wicked had never had the comfort of returning. On the other side, such is the nature of wickedness, that though many embrace it themselves, yet they are pleased to see it destroyed in others.—Jermin.
The exultant shout of relief at a man’s death might almost wake the dead man. It is hideous to think of a choral symphony of voices, jubilant at a dead march, making the welkin ring with huzzas at death’s last fest, and welcoming it to the echo. For those tumultuous pæans have a vengeful curse in every note. They mean malediction; and they say what they mean. The bad man dead and gone is such a good riddance. The multitude account it for themselves, not for him, such a happy release. The greatest of the greater prophets of the Old Testament indites the “triumphant insultation,” of his country and his countrymen against the dead and gone king of Babylon, when that oppressor ceased. . . . (Isa. xiv. 4). When Alexander Jannæus, desirous of a reconcilement with his people, asked them what he should do to make them quite content;—“Die!” was the response. It was the only way. The death of Ethwald, in Joanna Baillie’s tragedy, points the moral to the same bitter tale. Here are the closing lines of the drama:—
“Through all the vexed land
Let every heart bound at the joyful tidings,
Thus from his frowning height the tyrant falls
Like a dark mountain, whose interior fires,
Raging in ceaseless tumult, have devoured
Its own foundations. Sunk in sudden ruin
To the tremendous gulf, in the vast void
No friendly rock rears its opposing head
To stay the dreadful crash. . . . The joyful hinds
Point to the traveller the hollow vale
Where once it stood.”