nd to write a confidential letter to the king, full
of the most strict lessons of patriotism; to read it himself in council
to loyal princes; and to keep a copy, which he would publish at the
proper time as an accusation against Louis XVI. and a justification of
himself. This treacherous precaution against the perfidy of the court
was odious as a snare and cowardly a denunciation. Passion only, which
disturbs the sight of the soul, could blind a generous-minded woman as
to the meaning of such an act; but party feeling supplies the place of
generosity, justice, and even of virtue. This letter was a concealed
weapon, with which Roland reserved to himself the power of mortally
wounding the reputation of the king whilst he saved his own. This was
his only crime, or rather the only error of his hate; and this was the
only cause for remorse he felt at the foot of the scaffold.

XVI.

"Sire," said Roland in this celebrated letter, "things cannot remain in
their present state; it is a state of crises, and we must be extricated
from it by some extreme measure (_une explosion quelconque_). France has
given itself a constitution; the minority are undermining, the majority
are defending, it. There arises a fierce internal struggle in which no
person remains neuter. You enjoyed supreme power, and could not have
laid it down without regret. The enemies of the Revolution took into
calculation the sentiments they presume you entertain. Your secret
favour is their strength. Ought you now to ally yourself to the enemies
or the friends of the constitution? Pronounce once for all. Royalty,
clergy, nobility, aristocracy, must abhor these changes, which destroy
them: on the other hand, the people see the triumph of their rights in
the Revolution and will not allow themselves to be despoiled. The
declaration of rights has become their new Gospel: liberty is henceforth
the religion of the people. In this shock of opposing interests, all
sentiments have become extreme--opinions have assumed the accent of
enthusiasm. The country is no longer an abstraction, but a real being,
to which we are attached by the happiness it promises to us, and the
sacrifices we have made for it. To what point will this patriotism be
exalted at the moment now imminent, when the enemies' forces without are
about to combine with the intrigues within to assail it? The rage of the
nation will be terrible if it have not confidence in you. But this
confidence is not to b