He detested society, for in it there was no place awarded to him; but what he hated with unmitigated hate was the state of society; its prejudices—­its falsehoods.  He would have recast it, less for himself than for the benefit of mankind.  He would have consented to be crushed beneath its ruins, provided those ruins were to give place to his ideal plan of the government of reason.  Brissot was one of those mercenary scribes who write for those who pay best.  He had written on all subjects, for every minister; especially Turgot.  Criminal laws, political economy, diplomacy, literature, philosophy, even libels,—­his pen was at the hire of the first comer.  Seeking the support of celebrated and influential men, he had adulated all from Voltaire and Franklin down to Marat.  Known to Madame de Genlis, he had, through her, some acquaintance with the Duc d’Orleans.  Sent to London by the minister on one of those missions which are nameless, he there became connected with the editor of the Courrier de l’Europe, a French journal, printed in London, and the boldness of whose style was offensive at the court of the Tuileries.  He engaged himself to Swinton, the proprietor of this newspaper, and edited it in a manner favorable to the views of Vergennes.  He knew at Swinton’s several writers, amongst others one Morande.  These libellers, outcasts of society, frequently then become the refuse of the pen, and live at the same time on the disgraces of vice and in the pay of spies.  Their collision infected Brissot.  He was or appeared to be sometimes their accomplice.  Hideous blotches thus stain his life, and were cruelly revived by his enemies, when the time came in which he was compelled to appeal to public esteem.

Returning to France at the first symptoms of the Revolution, he watched its successive phases, with the ambition of an impatient man, and with the indecision of one not knowing what part to take.  He was frequently wrong.  He compromised himself by his devotion, too early displayed, towards certain men who had seemed to him for a moment to be all powerful, especially towards La Fayette.  Editor of the Patriote Francais, he had occasionally put forth revolutionary feelers, and flattered the future by going even faster than the factions themselves.  He had even been disowned by Robespierre.  “Whilst I content myself,” said Robespierre, referring to him, “with defending the principles of liberty, without opening any other question, what are you doing, Brissot and Condorcet?  Known until now by your great moderation and your connection with La Fayette, for a long time followers of the aristocratic club of ’89, you suddenly blazon forth the word Republic.  You issue a journal entitled the Republican!  Then minds become in a ferment.  The mere word Republic throws division amongst patriots, and affords to our enemies a pretext which they seek for announcing that there exists in France a party which conspires against the monarchy and the constitution.  Under