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fairly survived the Revolution, had very various fortunes. Some were thoroughly disillusioned, became vehement reactionaries, or abjured politics and were transformed into sober or enterprising men of business. Others crossed or recrossed the Atlantic, and lived to a green and honoured old age, or gave way to degrading vices. Others, remaining in France, hailed the rising star of Napoleon, and lived long enough to be disenchanted, but perhaps not long enough to see the restoration of the Bourbons. The characters of these men are an interesting chapter in psychology. The honest among them had left house and parents and brethren, if not wife and children, for the sake of what they believed to be in its way a kingdom of heaven. They appeal to our sympathies more than the cold observers, if indeed there were any such, who foresaw the lamentable collapse of all these highly wrought expectations. No doubt some of these immigrants were restless agitators, empty demagogues, pretentious egotists; but even these are not undeserving of study. There was much base metal, but there was also genuine gold. If of some who underwent imprisonment or death we can hardly avoid thinking that they deserved their fate, there are others whom we must sincerely pity, men to whom the Revolution was a religion overriding all claims of country and kindred.
French historians cannot be expected to take much notice of these aliens. In their eyes they are but imperceptible specks in the great eddy. Their attention is absorbed by their own countrymen ; they have none to spare for interlopers, none of whom played a leading role. If they devote a few lines to Clootz or Paine, they consider they have done quite enough. French readers, moreover, while anxious for the minutest details on Mirabeau, or Madame Roland, or Danton, and while familiar at least with the names of the principal Girondins and Montagnards, do not care to hear about a foreigner who here and there sat in the Assemblies, commanded on battlefields, or fell a victim to the guillotine. Yet for us, surely, fellow-countrymen have an especial interest. We would fain single them out on the crowded stage of the Revolution. They are more to us, not than the actors of first rank, but than secondary characters like Brissot or Vergniaud. Here, however, English writers will not help us. If they have not surveyed the field with French eyes, they have at least used French spectacles. French artists have painted the panorama; English connoisseurs give us their opinion of the panorama, but not of the actual scene which it represents. To vary the metaphor, or rather to state a fact, they work up the materials collected by French authors; they do not go in search of materials for themselves. Not a single English book on the Revolution tells us who represented our own country in Clootz's deputation of the human race, gives us an accurate account of Paine's experiences, or specifies the number, much less the names, of the British victims to the guillotine. Nor can private inquiry do very much to remedy this deficiency. The men in question, as a rule, left no issue, and their collateral descendants, regarding them as the black sheep of the family, are unwilling or unable to supply any information-oftener, perhaps, unable than unwilling, for the probability is that these emigrants mostly broke off all intercourse with their kinsmen, especially as after a certain date war rendered coinmunication very uncertain and difficult. There are, indeed, sources of information in France, contemporary newspapers and pamphlets, local and national archives, but even these are incomplete, and as regards manuscripts rarely catalogued. The Commune of 1871, moreover, created an irreparable gap, for in the burning of the Palais de Justice and Hôtel de Ville the municipal records, the registers of deaths, and many of the prison lists were consumed.
We have, however, in researches on the principal Englishmen who figured in the Revolution, profited by every still available source of information. We have skimmed a multitude of journals and tracts, rummaged musty documents, made inquiries of relatives which have not always proved fruitless, and, although such researches would a generation ago have doubtless been more productive, we have collected data which from the fading away of traditions and from material or political accidents might not at a future period have been obtainable.
Although Paine, as a member of the Convention, might seem entitled to precedence, we prefer to begin with men of higher status and wider culture, who, even if eventually brought into political association with him, must have loathed his vulgarity and coarseness. Robert Pigott, for instance, who, as Clootz's biographer, M. Avenel, has ascertained, represented England in the deputation of June 19, 1790, had been an opulent country gentleman. The Pigotts claimed descent from a Norman family named Picot, and had for eleven generations owned an estate at Chetwynd, Shropshire. They had been strongly attached to the Stuarts, and two heirlooms are still preserved in the family-a ring, one of four presented by Charles I. on the eve of his execution; and a portrait on ivory of the Pretender, presented by himself to Robert Pigott's father at Rome in 1720. Robert succeeded to the estate in 1770, at the age of thirty-four. The very day of his father's death, he and the disinherited son of Sir William Codrington, at Newmarket, ‘ran their
fathers' lives one against the other' for 500 guiueas. The elder Pigott having already been dead a few hours at Chetwynd, though neither party knew of it, Pigott maintained that the bet was off'; but Lord Mansfield gare judgement for Codrington, holding that the impossibility of a contingency did not debar its being the subject of a wager, if both parties were at the time unaware of that impossibility. Pigott had soon to serve, as his grandfather had done before him, as high sheriff of the county; but he held eccentric views. He shared the belief of croakers that England's fall was imminent; sold all his estates (said, including the Manor of Chesterton, Hunts, to be worth 9,0001. a year), and went to live at Geneva. We know nothing, however, of how long he stayed or what acquaintances he made: Voltaire must have been of the number. We next hear of him in London, where Brissot was introduced to him. Pigott had become a vegetarian, or, as it was then called, a Pythagorean. To this he had probably been converted by a Dr. Graham, brother to the well-known Mrs. Macaulay's young second husband, the notorious charlatan with whose mud baths and electric beds the future Lady Hamilton was associated. Brissot, when calling on Pigott, frequently found Graham with him. Pigott was thus evidently just the man to be kindled into enthusiasm by the Revolution. He had, moreover, an antipathy to cocked or other hats, as the invention of priests and despots, and wore a cap which at the Feast of Pikes made him the observed of all observers. When royalist deputies, suspecting the genuineness of Clootz's deputation, sent an usher who spoke English-probably Rose, a man of Scotch extraction to test the English representative, he was answered by Pigott in good Miltonic English,' and retired in confusion. We may imagine Pigott receiving from Clootz a certificate of his presence at the Feast of Pikes, couched, with a simple alteration of name and nationality, in these terms, and entitling the bearer to a federal ribbon and diploma :
• Capital of the globe, February 5, year 2. I certify and make known to all the free men of the earth that Joseph Cajadaer Chammas, member of the oppressed sovereign [the people] of Mesopotamia, had
the honour of attending the Federation of July 14, by virtue of a decree emanating from the august French Senate, June 19, year 1. ANACHARSis Cloorz, orator of the human race in the French National Assembly.'* What a contrast between the bigh sheriff of Salop paying the honours to the judges of assize and the cap-headed man at the bar of the National Assembly! Pigott is described in one place as a journalist, but perhaps merely because he had sent an address to the Assembly on Sieyès' press bill of 1790. He spoke in this address of loving France as warmly as if he had been a native, and of his having hastened over with a multitude of foreigners to enjoy the rights of man in all their purity. He dissuaded the Assembly from taking English legislation as a model, for the shameful war with America had shown how people could be misled by a press which the Government could oppress or coerce. England, he said, was not really free, but had only a semblance of freedom.
At the beginning of 1792, Pigott, in a pamphlet which we have been unable to find, but passages from which appeared in Brissot’s paper, the Patriote Français, advocated the use of caps, as allowing the face to be well seen, and as susceptible by various shapes and colours of all sorts of embellishments. He condemned the hat as gloomy and morose, denounced the uncovering of the head as a servile and ridiculous salutation, and appealed to Greek, Roman, and Gaulish usage, as also to the example of Voltaire and Rousseau. The effect of the appeal was electrical. For a few weeks caps were the rage, though it is not clear how far the republicans, any more than Voltaire and Rousseau, wore them outdoors. When on March 19, 1792, Pétion wrote to the Jacobin Club so strong and sensible a remonstrance against external signs of republicanism that the president pocketed his cap, all present following suit, it cannot be supposed that they went home bareheaded. These red caps must have been confined to indoor use. Pigott, however, was clearly the introducer of the bonnet rouge, for the Château-Vieux mutineers, to whom it is usually attributed, did not enter Paris till three months after caps had come in and gone out. The cap of liberty had been a symbol, indeed, employed from the outset of the Revolution, but it was Pigott who made it an article of dress. He had apparently quitted Paris by the summer, when it was revived,
* Lettre du Prussien Clootz au Prussien Hertzberg. Paris : 1791. and this time undoubtedly worn outdoors, sometimes placed on the back of the head, like that of a Zouave of the present day, sometimes covering the top of the head, with the end slightly lapping over in front.
Pigott's next two years are a blank for us. He must have left Paris before November 1792, or he would have figured in the British club which then made itself conspicuous. We thought,
indeed, at one time to have traced him under the guise of Picotte or Pigatte in the Paris prison rolls, in which case he might have inet his old friend Codrington as a fellow prisoner, but the dates do not agree. He died at Toulouse on July 7, 1794, three weeks before Robespierre's fall, leaving a widow, Antoinette Bontan, possibly the Mrs. Pigott who was living at Geneva in 1807-9. He is said also to have had a son who predeceased himn.
James Watt, junior, son of the great inventor, represented his country, like Pigott, in a cosmopolitan procession. had become intimate at Manchester with an ardent politician, Thomas Cooper,* a chemist; and the Constitutional Society of that town deputed both of them, towards the end of 1791, to carry an address of congratulation to the Jacobin Club. Young Watt was in all probability the anonymous "consti• tutional Whig' who figured in the “ moral-sublime scene quoted by Carlyle in his essays. The poet Wordsworth arrived in Paris a little later, made Watt's acquaintance, likewise attended the Assembly of the Jacobins, and on continuing his journey to Orleans took away a fragment of the Bastille as a relic. Watt may have introduced the future laureate, then a heated democrat, ultimately an extreme Tory, to Robespierre and Danton, for he knew them well, was Danton's second when they had quarrelled, and on the ground effected a reconciliation by urging the loss to the cause of liberty if either of them fell. When, on April 15, 1792, the forty mutinous soldiers of the ChâteauVieux regiment, released from the galleys of Brest, had a triumphal procession through Paris, Cooper and Watt were in it, bearing the British flag, with the bust of Algernon Sydney. Burke, in the House of Commons nearly a year afterwards, vehemently denounced them as having thus applauded mutiny and murder, and as having exchanged embraces with Marat. Watt’s biographer, Muirhead, speaks of him as horrified by the storming of the Tuileries and the September massacres, but he was so far from reprobating
Cooper eventually emigrated to America, and died in 1829.