e night
of the riot, and their daring had the effect, at least, of saving
their fellow-prisoners in future from being made marks, to teach the
national guard the art of shooting. Even their sentries kept a
respectful distance; and M. Henriot, wisely mindful of his
flagellation, flourished his staff of command no more within our
cloister. We were, in fact, left almost wholly to ourselves. Yet, if a
philosopher desired to take a lesson in human nature, this was the
spot of earth for the study. We had it in every shape and shade. We
had it in the wits and blockheads, the courtiers and the clowns, the
opulent and the ruined, the brave and the pusillanimous--and all under
the strangest pressure of those feelings which rouse the nature of man
to its most undisguised display. Death was before every eye. Where was
the use of wearing a mask, when the wearer was so soon to part with
his head? Pretence gradually vanished, and a general spirit of
boldness, frankness, and something, if not exactly of dignity, at
least of manliness, superseded the customary cringing of society under
a despotism. In all but the name, we were better republicans than the
tribe who shouted in the streets, or robbed in the tribunals.

I made the remark one day to the Marquis de Cassini, a philosopher and
pupil of the great Buffon. "The reason is," said he, "that men differ
chiefly by circumstances, as they differ chiefly by their clothes.
Throw off their dress, whether embroidery or rags, and you will find
the same number of ribs in them all."

"But my chief surprise is, to find in this prison more mutual
kindness, and, in every sense, more generosity of sentiment, than one
generally expects to meet in the world."

"Helvetius would tell you that all this was self-interest," was my
pale-visaged and contemplative friend's reply. "But I always regarded
M. Helvetius in the light of a well-trained baboon, who thought, when
men stared at his tricks, they were admiring his talents. The truth
is, that self-interest is the mere creature of society, and is the
most active in the basest society. It is the combined cowardice and
cruelty of men struggling for existence; the savageness of the forest,
where men cannot gather acorns enough to share with their fellows; the
effort for life, where there is but one plank in a storm, and where,
if you are to cling at all, it must be by drowning the weaker party.
But here," and he cast his eyes calmly round the crowd, "as t