"That man was once my friend; today I would not scruple to kill him like a dog."
The tide of the Revolution overwhelmed him, and his death established his glory. This great man would have remained hidden beneath his merits, if misfortune had not revealed him to the world. A noble Venetian lost his life at the moment when he discovered his title-deeds amid the falling ruins of an old palace.
C. G. Lamoignon de Malesherbes.
M. de Malesherbes' free ways removed all my constraint. He found that I was not without information; this first point gave us something in common: we spoke of botany and geography, two of his favourite subjects. It was in the course of my conversations with him that I first conceived the idea of making a journey in North America, with the object of discovering the ocean seen by Hearne and later by Mackenzie[269]. We also held views in common on politics: the generous sentiments which were at the root of our earlier troubles appealed to the independence of my character; my natural antipathy to the Court gave strength to this inclination. I was on the side of M. de Malesherbes and of Madame de Rosanbo as against M. de Rosanbo and my brother, who was nicknamed "the raving Chateaubriand." The Revolution would have carried me away, had it not started in crime: I saw the first head carried on the end of a pike, and I drew back. Murder will never to my eyes be an object of admiration or an argument in favour of liberty; I know nothing more servile, more contemptible, more cowardly, more shallow than a Terrorist. Have I not in France seen the whole of this race of Brutus take service with Caesar and his police? The levellers, regenerators, cut-throats had been transformed into lackeys, spies, sycophants, and even less naturally into dukes, counts, and barons: such a medievalism!
My great liking for him.
Lastly, what attached me still more to the illustrious old man was his predilection for my sister: in spite of the Comtesse Lucile's shyness, we succeeded, with the aid of a glass of champagne, in inducing her to take a part in a little play on the occasion of M. de Malesherbes' birthday; her performance was so touching that it turned that good and great man's head. He was even more eager than my brother in urging her translation from the Chapter of the Argentière to that of Remiremont, which insisted upon the rigorous and difficult proofs of the "sixteen quarterings." For all his philosophy, M. de Malesherbes possessed principles of birth in an eminent degree.