e day,[4340] on alluding,
before the minister of war, to a general officer who had obtained his
rank through his merit, he exclaimed, 'Oh, yes, an officer of luck.'
This expression, being repeated and commented on, does much mischief."
In vain do the grandees show their condescending spirit, "welcoming with
equal kindness and gentleness all who are presented to them." In the
mansion of the Due de Penthievre the nobles eat at the table of the
master of the house, the commoners dine with his first gentleman and
only enter the drawing room when coffee is served. There they find "in
full force and with a superior tone" the others who had the honor
of dining with His Highness, and "who do not fail to salute the new
arrivals with an obliging civility indicating patronage."[4341] No more
is required; in vain does the Duke "carry his attentions to an extreme,"
Beugnot, so pliable, has no desire to return. They bear them ill-will,
not only on account of their slight bows but again on account of their
over-politeness. Champfort acrimoniously relates that d'Alembert, at the
height of his reputation, being in Madame du Deffant's drawing room
with President Henault and M. de Pont-de-Veyle, a physician enters named
Fournier, and he, addressing Madame du Deffant, says, "Madame, I have
the honor of presenting you with my very humble respects;'' turning to
President Henault, "I have the honor to be your obedient servant,"
and then to M. de Pont-de-Veyle, "Sir, your most obedient," and to
d'Alembert, "Good day, sir."[4342] To a rebellious heart everything is
an object of resentment. The Third-Estate, following Rousseau's example,
cherishes ill-feeling against the nobles for what they do, and yet
again, for what they are, for their luxury, their elegance, their
insincerity, their refined and brilliant behavior. Champfort is
embittered against them on account of the polite attentions with which
they overwhelm him. Sieyes bears them a grudge on account of a promised
abbey which he did not obtain. Each individual, besides the general
grievances, has his personal grievance. Their coolness, like their
familiarity, attentions and inattentions, is an offense, and, under
these millions of needle-thrusts, real or imaginary, the mind gets to be
full of gall. In 1789, it is full to overflowing.

"The most honorable title of the French nobility," writes Champfort, "is
a direct descent from some 30,000 armed, helmeted, armletted and armored
men who, o