YESTERDAY I had the honour of receiving your Letter, in which you deſire that I may reviſe and ſoften the ex⯑preſſions which I have made uſe of con⯑cerning Henry IV. King of France^* I am [8] not at all ſurpriſed at your requeſt; for ſince your childhood, you have heard every one talk of the pleaſing manner and mild tem⯑per of that Prince. Thoſe qualities have ſhaded, and almoſt obliterated, that vigi⯑lance and vigour, without which he would never have either merited or enjoyed the title of Great. The intention of this is ſelf-evident. The name of Henry IV. recalls the idea of his popularity; the ſovereigns of France are proud to have deſcended from this hero, and are taught to look up to him as a model. It is under the ſhelter of his venerable name that all the con⯑ſpirators againſt the laws, againſt religion, and againſt good order, have dared to per⯑ſuade their king, that he ought to abandon all the precautions of power to the deſigns of ambition. After having thus diſarmed, they have reſolved to deliver their ſovereign, his nobility, and his magiſtrates (the natural [9] ſupporters of his throne) into the hands of thieves and of aſſaſſins.

It was a long time ſince this plot was firſt formed. It was reſolved to put it into execution according to circumſtances; and the mode adopted, of everywhere ſuſpend⯑ing the portraits of Henry IV. was one of the means employed for the ſucceſs of the de⯑ſign:—a means truly perfidious, as it holds ſnares to the unwary, and catches mankind by the bait of their own virtues.

Every time that this politic prince had oc⯑caſion to deliver one of his inſinuating har⯑rangues (which was very often) he took par⯑ticular care not to be too literal in his expreſ⯑ſions. It was, I ſuppoſe to a kind of Aſſem⯑bly of Notables that he ſpoke of his deſign to free himſelf entirely from their reſtraint. But when he employed theſe courtly threats, of which, by the bye, he was very liberal, he advanced his right foot, and, as he him⯑ſelf ſays, ‘"always clapt his hand upon the hilt of his ſword.’

[10] Thoſe men whoſe power is envied, and againſt whom violent factions are formed, cannot with ſafety be good in any other manner. Trajan, Marcus Aurelius, and all others in ſimilar ſituations, who have dared to be virtuous, could never have en⯑joyed this arduous and critical pre-emi⯑nence but by inviolably purſuing all means in their power of attracting reſpect, and of ſuſtaining their authority. Without this, they could not have exerciſed their benevo⯑lence.

In ſuch a ſituation, a prince may with ſafety, and with as much ſagacity as glory, divide his authority with his people; be⯑cauſe then he has the power to divide it at his diſcretion, and is not forced to aban⯑don it.

Whatever may be the honour annexed to ſuch a voluntary diviſion, whatever may be the political motive that can induce a ſo⯑vereign to make ſuch a ſacrifice in certain caſes, Henry IV. neither did the one nor the other: he never, in any manner whatever, [11] parted with an atom of his authority. Did ever he leave it to the judgment of the ci⯑tizens of Paris to determine the right which the laws of the kingdom gave him of being their king and their ſovereign? Did they ever enter into any treaty with him con⯑cerning his title to the throne? Where is there in the long catalogue of the unli⯑mited prerogatives of the kings of France (be they juſt or unjuſt) an article which he ever abandoned, limited, or even ſubmitted to enquiry? He would have been ſtill more illuſtrious, if, after having purchaſed and conquered his kingdom, he had done this, and if he had become the founder of a regu⯑lar conſtitution.

Hiſtorical facts have not furniſhed me with the means of deciding in a proper manner if ever he found himſelf in a ſitua⯑tion to acquire this glory, or if he then could have made any attempts of that kind with a greater degree of ſafety than has been done on a recent occaſion. But it is very probable that he never had any of this kind. If you read the Memoirs of Sully with at⯑tention [12] (and I ſuppoſe that the opinions of the miniſter differed but little from thoſe of his maſter) you will eaſily perceive that they were both royaliſts in all the extent of expreſſion; and with ſome few exceptions they conſtantly maintained that ſpecies of government.

As to the blood that Henry ſhed, he never ſpilt one drop more than was neceſ⯑ſary for the maintenance of his Right; which he on no occaſion would ſubmit to any ſpecies of popular deciſion: he how⯑ever could kill when it was neceſſary. How many bloody battles did he not fight againſt the majority of the French nation? How many cities did he not ſack and pillage! Was his miniſter aſhamed of ſharing the booty that fell into his hands? It is true, that while cloſely beſieging his own capital, he relieved and protected the unfortunate families who, at the peril of their lives, ſal⯑lied forth to gather a ſcanty harveſt under the walls of this very capital. I approve this conduct, but it does not inſpire me with an enthuſiaſtic admiration. He would have almoſt been a monſter in cruelty, and [13] an idiot in politics, had he done otherwiſe. But while he was ſo compaſſionate to a few wretches dying of hunger, one can⯑not forget that it was he himſelf who fa⯑miſhed them, by hundreds and by thou⯑ſands, before he was in a ſituation to treat thus compaſſionately a few iſolated indi⯑viduals. It is true, indeed, that in ſtarving Paris, he did nothing but what was con⯑formable to the right of war: but that was a right which he enforced in all its pleni⯑tude. He followed the dictates of his heart and of his policy in the acts of compaſſion attributed to him: as to the famine which he occaſioned, it was in conſequence of the poſition of his army. But can you ſupport the panegyriſts of Henry IV. in regard to this very ſiege of Paris, when you recollect the late deplorable ſcarcity, and, above all, what has been done in conſequence of that unhappy epoch? Of the occurrences that followed I ſhall not ſpeak at preſent, al⯑though I think that that ought to be done, to inſpire every honeſt heart with horror and indignation.

[14] As to the "Scaffold,"—it is impoſſible to decide at this moment, whether it would not have been more prudent for Henry IV. to have ſaved Marechal de Biron, inſtead of cutting off his head within the walis of the Baſtile. He was under great obliga⯑tions to this Marechal of France, as well as to his father; but Henry was leſs remark⯑able for his gratitude than for his clemency. As he never ſhed blood but for juſt reaſons, I ſuppoſe that he thought himſelf obliged to do it then, on account of the good of his people, and the ſecurity of his throne. It muſt be allowed, however, that if he had pardoned this raſh and impetuous man, he would never have been reproached with this act of commiſeration.

If he imagined that the Marechal de Biron was capable of ſome of thoſe ſcenes which we have lately ſeen exhibited in your kingdom; if he ſuppoſed that he might produce the ſame anarchy, the ſame confu⯑ſion and the ſame diſtreſs, as the prelimina⯑ries to a humiliating and vexatious tyranny, which were on the point of beholding eſta⯑bliſhed [15] in France under the name of a Con⯑ſtitution,—it was right, very right, to cut, on its very formation, the firſt thread of ſo many treaſons.

He would never have merited the crown that he acquired, and which he wore with ſo much glory, if interpoſing his compaſſion to defeat the preſervative effects of a ſevere execution, he had ſcrupled to puniſh thoſe traitors and enemies of their country and of the human race;—for, believe me, there can be no virtue where there is no wiſdom.

Weakneſs only (that is to ſay, the parent and the ally of crimes) could have allowed itſelf to be affected by miſdeeds which have a connection with power, and which aim at the uſurpation of a certain degree of au⯑thority. To pardon ſuch enemies, is to do the ſame thing as thoſe who attempt the deſtruction of religion, of the laws, of po⯑licy, and of the proſperity of induſtry, of li⯑berty, and of the proſperity of your country. If Henry IV. had ſuch ſubjects as thoſe who rule France at this very moment, he would do nothing more than his duty in puniſh⯑ing them.

[16] The preſent Sovereign is in the ſituation of a victim, and not the avenger of rebellion. It is rather a misfortune than a crime, that he has not prevented this Revolution with that vigorous precaution, that activity, and that momentary deciſion which character⯑ized Henry IV.

Louis XVI. according to what I hear and believe, has received from nature as perfect an underſtanding, and a heart as ſoft and humane, as his illuſtrious anceſtor. Theſe are indeed the elements of virtue; but he was born under the canopy of a Throne, and was not prepared by adverſity for a ſitua⯑tion, the trials of which the moſt perfect and the moſt abſolute virtue could have ſcarce reſiſted.

As to the proceedings, the men, the means, the pretexts, the projects, the con⯑ſequences ariſing from falſe plans and falſe calculations of every nature and of every ſpecies, which have reduced this Sovereign to appear in no better light than an inſtrument for the ruin of his country—theſe are cir⯑cumſtances [17] to be recorded and commented on by the Hiſtorian.

Theſe remarks, Sir, have been occaſioned by reading your Letter; you may print them as an Appendix to your work, or in what⯑ever manner you pleaſe; or you may keep them for your own private ſatisfaction—I leave it intirely to your diſcretion.

I muſt beg your favourable Interpretation of my long Silence. I have really been en⯑gaged in Buſineſs which has occupied my whole Mind, and made me ſomewhat ne⯑gligent in the Attentions which are moſt juſtly due from me. Amongſt thoſe I muſt reckon what I owe to you, for your Communication of the Sentiments of the Abbe Maury, and for the very polite and obliging Manner in which you have made that Communication.

I have to thank you for the excellent Speeches of the Abbe's, which, until your [20] Goodneſs furniſhed me with them, I had never read. I had never before ſeen any Thing of his which could furniſh a proper Idea of his Manner of healing a Subject. I had ſeen him only in detached Pieces, and ſometimes, I apprehend, under the Diſad⯑vantage of a Repreſentation of his Enemies.—Even in that Form I thought I per⯑ceived the Traces of a ſuperior Mind.

The Pieces which you have been ſo kind as to put into my Hands, have more than juſtified the Ideas I had formed of him from Reputation. I find there a bold, manly, commanding, haughty, Tone of Eloquence; free and rapid, and full of Reſources: but admiring, as I do, his Elo⯑quence, I admire much more his unwearied Perſeverance, his invincible Conſtancy, his firm Intrepidity, his undaunted Courage, and his noble Defiance of vulgar Opinion, and public Clamor. Theſe are real Foun⯑dations of Glory. Whenever he ſhall get rid of the Dangers of his Inviolability, and ſhall wiſh to relax in the Eaſe and free Intercourſe of this Land of Slavery (in [21] which he has nothing to dread from a Com⯑mittee of Reſearches, or the excellent Laws of leſe Nation) he ſhall, with a very ſincere and open Heart, receive from me the acco⯑lade Chevalereſque, which he condeſcends to deſire: for he has acquitted himſelf en preux Chevalier, and as a valiant Champion in the Cauſe of Honor, Virtue, and noble Sentiments; in the Cauſe of his King and his Country, in the Cauſe of Law, Religion, and Liberty. Be pleaſed only to expreſs my Sorrow, that the Mediocrity of my Situation, and the very bad French which I ſpeak, will, neither of them, ſuffer me to entertain him with the Diſtinction I ſhould wiſh to ſhew him. I will do the beſt I can.

I have had the Count de Mirabeau in my Houſe—will he ſubmit afterwards to enter under the ſame Roof? I will have it puri⯑fied and expiated, and I ſhall look into the beſt Formulas, from the Time of Homer downwards, for that Purpoſe; I will do every thing but irritate the Spaniard who burned his Houſe, becauſe the Connetable [22] de Bourbon had lodged in it. That Cere⯑mony is too expenſive for my Finances. Any Thing elſe I ſhall readily ſubmit to, for its Purification; for I am extremely ſu⯑perſtitious, and think his coming into it was of evil Augury; worſe, a great deal, than the Crows which the Abbe will find continually flying about me. It is his having been in ſo many Priſons in France, that has proved ſo ominous to them all.

Let the Hall of the National Aſſembly talk to itſelf, and take Means of averting the ſame ill Auſpices that threaten it. They are a fine Nation that ſend their Monarchs to Priſon, and take their Suc⯑ceſſors from the Jails! The Birth of ſuch Monſters has made me as ſuperſtitious as they. A Friend of mine juſt come from Paris, tells me, he was preſent when the Count de Mirabeau (I beg his Pardon) Mr. Ricquetti, thought proper to entertain the Aſſembly with his Opinion of me. I only anſwer him by referring him to the World's Opinion of him. I have the Hap⯑pineſs not to be diſapproved by my Sove⯑reign. [23] I can bear the Frowns of Ricquetti the Firſt who is theirs. I am ſafe under the Britiſh Laws.—I do not intend to put myſelf in the Way of his Inquiſition, or of his lanterne; which I conſider as much more dangerous to honeſt Men, though not to him, than the Baſtille was formerly.

If I were to go to France, I ſhould think the Government of Louis XVI. much more favorable to Liberty than that of their preſent King, Ricquetti the Firſt. In one Thing, indeed, I find him, though he was a bad Subject, to me at leaſt, a kind Sovereign; ſince, in ſpeaking of me, he has done it in the only Way which could contribute either to my Satisfaction or Re⯑putation.

To be the Subject of Monſieur Ricquetti's Invectives, and of Abbe Maury's Appro⯑bation at the ſame Time, is an Honor to which little can be added. Mirabeau in his Jail would be an Object of my Pity; on his Throne (which by the Sport of [24] Fortune may be the Reward of what—commonly leads to what I don't chuſe to name) he is the Object of my Diſdain. For Vice is never ſo odious, and to rational Eyes, never ſo contemptible, as when it uſurps and diſgraces the natural Place of Virtue; and Virtue is never more amiable to all who have a true Taſte for Beauty, than when ſhe is naked and ſtripp'd of all the borrowed Ornaments of Fortune.

Mr. Cazales and Abbe Maury have de⯑rived Advantages to their Fame from their Diſaſters, which they never could have had from the moſt proſperous Event of their Conflicts; which, however, I wiſh may come in the End, not for their own Sakes, but for the Benefit of Mankind.