GOUVERNEUR MORRIS

GOUVERNEUR MORRIS. PARIS. AUGUST 10, 1792.

Justum et tenacem propositi virum
Non civium ardor prava jubentium,
Non vultus instantis tyranni
Mente quatit solida, neque Auster
Dux inquieti turbidus Hadriae,
Nec fulminantis magna manus Jovis:
Si fractus illabatur orbis,
Impavidum ferient ruinae.
--Hor., Lib. III. Carm. III.


GOUVERNEUR MORRIS

The 10th of August, 1792, was one of the most memorable days of
the French Revolution. It was the day on which the French
monarchy received its death-blow, and was accompanied by fighting
and bloodshed which filled Paris with terror. In the morning
before daybreak the tocsin had sounded, and not long after the
mob of Paris, headed by the Marseillais, "Six hundred men not
afraid to die," who had been summoned there by Barbaroux, were
marching upon the Tuileries. The king, or rather the queen, had
at last determined to make a stand and to defend the throne. The
Swiss Guards were there at the palace, well posted to protect the
inner court; and there, too, were the National Guards, who were
expected to uphold the government and guard the king. The tide of
people poured on through the streets, gathering strength as they
went the Marseillais, the armed bands, the Sections, and a vast
floating mob. The crowd drew nearer and nearer, but the squadrons
of the National Guards, who were to check the advance, did not
stir. It is not apparent, indeed, that they made any resistance,
and the king and his family at eight o'clock lost heart and
deserted the Tuileries, to take refuge with the National
Convention. The multitude then passed into the court of the
Carrousel, unchecked by the National Guards, and were face to
face with the Swiss. Deserted by their king, the Swiss knew not
how to act, but still stood their ground. There was some
parleying, and at last the Marseillais fired a cannon. Then the
Swiss fired. They were disciplined troops, and their fire was
effective. There was a heavy slaughter and the mob recoiled,
leaving their cannon, which the Swiss seized. The Revolutionists,
however, returned to the charge, and the fight raged on both
sides, the Swiss holding their ground firmly.

Suddenly, from the legislative hall, came an order from the king
to the Swiss to cease firing. It was their death warrant.
Paralyzed by the order, they knew not what to do. The mob poured
in, and most of the gallant Swiss were slaughtered where they
stood. Others escaped from the Tuileries only to meet their death
in the street. The palace was sacked and the raging mob was in
possession of the city. No man's life was safe, least of all
those who were known to be friends of the king, who were nobles,
or who had any connection with the court. Some of these people
whose lives were thus in peril at the hands of the bloodstained
and furious mob had been the allies of the United States, and had
fought under Washington in the war for American independence. In
their anguish and distress their thoughts recurred to the country
which they had served in its hour of trial, three thousand miles
away. They sought the legation of the United States and turned to
the American minister for protection.

Such an exercise of humanity at that moment was not a duty that
any man craved. In those terrible days in Paris, the
representatives of foreign governments were hardly safer than any
one else. Many of the ambassadors and ministers had already left
the country, and others were even then abandoning their posts,
which it seemed impossible to hold at such a time. But the
American minister stood his ground. Gouverneur Morris was not a
man to shrink from what he knew to be his duty. He had been a
leading patriot in our revolution; he had served in the
Continental Congress, and with Robert Morris in the difficult
work of the Treasury, when all our resources seemed to be at
their lowest ebb. In 1788 he had gone abroad on private business,
and had been much in Paris, where he had witnessed the beginning
of the French Revolution and had been consulted by men on both
sides. In 1790, by Washington's direction, he had gone to London
and had consulted the ministry there as to whether they would
receive an American minister. Thence he had returned to Paris,
and at the beginning Of 1792 Washington appointed him minister of
the United States to France.

As an American, Morris's sympathies had run strongly in favor of
the movement to relieve France from the despotism under which she
was sinking, and to give her a better and more liberal
government. But, as the Revolution progressed, he became outraged
and disgusted by the methods employed. He felt a profound
contempt for both sides. The inability of those who were
conducting the Revolution to carry out intelligent plans or
maintain order, and the feebleness of the king and his advisers,
were alike odious to the man with American conceptions of ordered
liberty. He was especially revolted by the bloodshed and cruelty,
constantly gathering in strength, which were displayed by the
revolutionists, and he had gone to the very verge of diplomatic
propriety in advising the ministers of the king in regard to the
policies to be pursued, and, as he foresaw what was coming, in
urging the king himself to leave France. All his efforts and all
his advice, like those of other intelligent men who kept their
heads during the whirl of the Revolution, were alike vain.

On August 10 the gathering storm broke with full force, and the
populace rose in arms to sweep away the tottering throne. Then it
was that these people, fleeing for their lives, came to the
representative of the country for which many of them had fought,
and on both public and private grounds besought the protection of
the American minister. Let me tell what happened in the words of
an eye-witness, an American gentleman who was in Paris at that
time, and who published the following account of his experiences:

On the ever memorable 10th of August, after viewing the
destruction of the Royal Swiss Guards and the dispersion of the
Paris militia by a band of foreign and native incendiaries, the
writer thought it his duty to visit the Minister, who had not
been out of his hotel since the insurrection began, and, as was
to be expected, would be anxious to learn what was passing
without doors. He was surrounded by the old Count d'Estaing, and
about a dozen other persons of distinction, of different sexes,
who had, from their connection with the United States, been his
most intimate acquaintances at Paris, and who had taken refuge
with him for protection from the bloodhounds which, in the forms
of men and women, were prowling in the streets at the time. All
was silence here, except that silence was occasionally
interrupted by the crying of the women and children. As I
retired, the Minister took me aside, and observed: "I have no
doubt, sir, but there are persons on the watch who would find
fault with my conduct as Minister in receiving and protecting
these people, but I call on you to witness the declaration which
I now make, and that is that they were not invited to my house,
but came of their own accord. Whether my house will be a
protection to them or to me, God only knows, but I will not turn
them out of it, let what will happen to me to which he added,
"You see, sir, they are all persons to whom our country is more
or less indebted, and it would be inhuman to force them into the
hands of the assas. sins, had they no such claim upon me."

Nothing can be added to this simple account, and no American can
read it or repeat the words of Mr. Morris without feeling even
now, a hundred years after the event, a glow of pride that such
words were uttered at such a time by the man who represented the
United States.

After August 10, when matters in Paris became still worse,
Mr. Morris still stayed at his post. Let me give, in his own words,
what he did and his reasons for it:

The different ambassadors and ministers are all taking their
flight, and if I stay I shall be alone. I mean, however, to stay,
unless circumstances should command me away, because, in the
admitted case that my letters of credence are to the monarchy,
and not to the Republic of France, it becomes a matter of
indifference whether I remain in this country or go to England
during the time which may be needful to obtain your orders, or to
produce a settlement of affairs here. Going hence, however, would
look like taking part against the late Revolution, and I am not
only unauthorized in this respect, but I am bound to suppose that
if the great majority of the nation adhere to the new form, the
United States will approve thereof; because, in the first place,
we have no right to prescribe to this country the government they
shall adopt, and next, because the basis of our own Constitution
is the indefeasible right of the people to establish it.

Among those who are leaving Paris is the Venetian ambassador.
He was furnished with passports from the Office of Foreign Affairs,
but he was, nevertheless, stopped at the barrier, was conducted
to the Hotel de Ville, was there questioned for hours, and his
carriages examined and searched. This violation of the rights of
ambassadors could not fail, as you may suppose, to make an
impression. It has been broadly hinted to me that the honor of my
country and my own require that I should go away. But I am of a
different opinion, and rather think that those who give such
hints are somewhat influenced by fear. It is true that the
position is not without danger, but I presume that when the
President did me the honor of naming me to this embassy, it was
not for my personal pleasure or safety, but to promote the
interests of my country. These, therefore, I shall continue to
pursue to the best of my judgment, and as to consequences, they
are in the hand of God.

He remained there until his successor arrived. When all others
fled, he was faithful, and such conduct should never be
forgotten. Mr. Morris not only risked his life, but he took a
heavy responsibility, and laid himself open to severe attack for
having protected defenseless people against the assaults of the
mob. But his courageous humanity is something which should ever
be remembered, and ought always to be characteristic of the men
who represent the United States in foreign countries. When we
recall the French Revolution, it is cheering to think of that
fearless figure of the American minister, standing firm and calm
in the midst of those awful scenes, with sacked palaces,
slaughtered soldiers, and a bloodstained mob about him,
regardless of danger to himself, determined to do his duty to his
country, and to those to whom his country was indebted.

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