roke into the
Chateau de Juigne, cut off the ears and the noses of all the persons
they found there, and drove them out with pitchforks, following and
striking them till they died. In Provence similar horrors were committed
at the same time, under the direct instigation of the local authorities,
called there the consuls.

In August, 1789, M. de Barras was cut in pieces before the eyes of his
wife. Madame de Listenay and her two daughters were tied naked to trees
and tormented. Madame de Monteau and all the inmates of her house were
tormented for eight hours and then drowned in the lake in her own
grounds. At Castelnau de Montmirail, near Cahors, the head of one of two
brothers, De Ballud, was cut off and the blood left to drip upon the
face of the surviving brother; the Comtesse de la Mire was seized in her
own house by the peasants and her arms cut to pieces; M. Guillin was
slain, roasted, and eaten before the eyes of his wife. At Bordeaux the
Abbes de Longovian and Dupuy were beheaded and their heads carried about
on pikes. M. de Bar was burned alive in his chateau. All these horrors,
and innumerable others not less revolting, were committed all over
France in cold blood, before the advance of the 'standard of the
tyrants' had set M. Rouget de l'Isle to composing the declamatory
rigmarole of the _Marseillaise_. Is it possible to regard a revolution
which began in this hideous, cowardly, and burglarious fashion with any
feelings other than those inspired by the Gordon riots of 1780 in
London? If the truth in regard to these things could have been known in
America in 1789, as it may now be learned from the unanswerable
testimony of authentic contemporary documents in France, there can be
little doubt that Washington would have treated anyone who begged him to
accept a key of the Bastille as he would have treated Dickens's Hugh or
Dennis tendering to him a key of Newgate prison, with the compliments
of Lord George Gordon.

From the private conversation and correspondence of the few Americans
then in Europe who really knew what was going on in France, the most
thoughtful and alert of our public men gathered enough of the truth to
regard the first French Republic with loathing and contempt. Their
general feeling on the subject is expressed in an entry in his diary
made during the month of October, 1789, long before 'the Terror,' by
Gouverneur Morris. 'Surely it is not the usual order of Divine
Providence to leave such ab