at seeing the lord's pigeons trespassing on his crops, without the power of destroying them, knowing that the lord might not possess an acre of land,* than he did from paying a tithe of that crop to the church and a third to the landlord ; and the statutę labour (corvée) which he always had to perform must have harassed him incalculably more than a much heavier burthen shared with the feudal lord. Accordingly, of all the changes effected by the Revolution, there was none which went more home to every Frenchman's bosom than the famous decree sweeping away feudal privileges. The vote of the Assembly on the 4th of August diffused joy over all France, such as perhaps no other act of legislative power ever excited. It may be said, without a figure of speech, to have raised one universal shout of exultation through the whole expanse of that vast and populous country. The language applied by Mr. Burke to the memorable proceedings of that night, and which termed it the "St. Bartholomew of the privileged orders," was employed by but a very few, and did not express the sentiments prevailing even among the members of those orders themselves, from whom indeed the proposition mainly had proceeded.

*The droit de Colombier was wholly dependent on the seignory, and might belong to a lord who had no property in land: the actual owner had it only in a very limited extent.-Political Philosophy, part 1, chap. xiii.

Just half a century after these events I happened to be travelling in a remote district of Provence, when, reposing in the heat of the day under a porch, my eye was attracted by some placards, whose letters were preserved by the great dryness of that fine climate, though they had been there for fifty years. Those papers were the official promulgation of the several decrees for secularizing the clergy, abolishing the monastic orders, and abrogating all feudal privileges, signed by the several Presidents of the Assembly, Bureau de Pusey,* Camus, and Siéyes. The incident is exceedingly trivial in itself; but I shall not easily forget its effect in carrying me back to the great scenes of the Revolution, ere yet its path had been stained with blood, while virtuous men might honestly exult in its success, and the friends of their species could venture to hope for the unsullied triumphs of the sacred warfare waged with long-established abuses. The past seemed connected with the present, and the mighty consequences visible all around which had flowed from the changes recorded in those few lines, appeared to rise, as it were, before the sight, springing out of their causes. Nor must it be forgotten that the perils of the tempest having happily passed away, the atmosphere which it had cleared was breathed in a pleasing reflection that the region over which its fury had swept was now flourishing in unprecedented prosperity, for which the price paid had as

*Afterwards confined at Olmutz with Lafayette.

suredly been heavy, but not too heavy compared with the blessings it had purchased.

Hitherto we have only considered the proceedings of the National Assembly itself; but that memorable body was not the only organ of public opinion and popular feeling, nor were its deliberations entirely free and uncontrolled. As soon as parties began to form themselves within its circle, appeals to the people out of doors were the natural consequence, each seeking to gain the weight arising in revolutionary times from popular support. At first, with the exception of one or two scenes of dreadfully excited popular fury, the press alone was the channel through which the party leaders sought to influence public opinion. The religious feelings of the people were next appealed to; but the tendency of the clergy to support the ancient institutions, and the course of hostility to the Church so early pursued by almost all parties in the Assembly, soon brought such feeble and roundabout appeals to a close; and a more summary and effectual mode of agitating was discovered. Clubs were formed, at which men not belonging to the Assembly, as well as deputies, met to discuss the topics of the day, and especially the proceedings of their representatives. These meetings were at first private and not numerous; soon they became better attended, and were much frequented by the deputies themselves; then their doors were flung open to the people. The earliest association of this

kind was formed by the deputies from Brittany. When the National Assembly was removed from Versailles to the capital, the club, becoming more numerous, held its meetings at the Jacobin Convent in the Rue St. Honoré, and admitted as members many persons not belonging to the National Assembly. Perceiving that its influence upon the Assembly was considerable, the Club now endeavoured to rule the municipality or Town-Council of Paris, a body always possessed of great influence from the large revenues at its disposal, and the great number of persons in its constant employ for the management of those revenues, as well as of the Metropolitan Police. The Jacobin Club, as it was now termed, extended its influence to the provinces, and formed everywhere affiliated societies or clubs which corresponded with it, took their tone from its debates, and exercised in each town an influence like its own.

Dissension, however, broke out in the mother society itself. The more moderate men, with Lafayette and Siéyes at their head, retired to form an association of their own, which they termed the Club of '89, while Lameth and Barnave directed the proceedings of the Jacobins. The new Club chiefly influenced the Assembly; the Jacobins always made their appeal to the people. The Royalist party soon attempted a similar policy, first forming a Club called the "Impartiaux," which had no success; then one termed the Monarchique,"

which was so much better attended that it excited the jealousy of the Parisian mob, gave rise to tumults, and was shut up at the beginning of the year 1791 on that account by the police, which thought it just and reasonable to punish the party assailed, because those who attacked it had been guilty of some violence.

The Jacobins now underwent another change; the Lameths and Barnaves, unwilling to push matters to extremity, formed a new club, called the 66 Feuillans," from the convent at which they met ; and the direction of the Jacobins fell into the hands of Pétion and of Robespierre. But there were some who deemed these men and their followers not sufficiently favourable to extreme courses. Danton, Camille Desmoulins, and Fabre d'Eglantine seceded to form a more violent club, which met at the Convent of the Vieux Cordeliers, and took from thence their name. Among these different clubs, the Jacobins exercised the greatest influence both over the Assembly, the municipality, and the people at large; but all of them, by their unceasing agitation, kept the people in a constant ferment of disquiet; all of them, by their overbearing conduct, kept the deliberations of the Assembly under a control as indecent as it was pernicious; all of them prepared the materials of a combustible train, which a spark might at any time fire into a general explosion. Unhappily the Assembly did not present from the first a firm and determined aspect of re