erty, and when a desire is felt not only to remove a tyranny but also to avenge an insult."

The world's advance has been marked by great historical epochs that may be designated as transforming periods: such, for example, as the espousal in the fourth century of the Christian religion by the Emperor Constantine that resulted in the passing of paganism; the fall of the Western Roman empire when the hardy barbarians from the north overthrew her power and changed the civilization of Europe by the introduction of new customs, conditions, and races; the capture of Constantinople by the Turks in the fifteenth century that dispersed the learned men of the East and thus disseminated the literature and culture of the ancients throughout the western world. The Renaissance in art and the Reformation in religion must also be grouped in this class. The French Revolution may be added to this list, but it differs from the others in that it was not an event but a continuing condition. It had no definite beginning and no definite end; it cannot be circumscribed by time limitations; with its causes it extended far into the past and with its results it still reaches indefinitely into the future. Its crimes and excesses were but the natural avenging of past monstrous wrongs, a reaction against the cruelty and tyranny of ages. Morley calls it "the battle of freedom against thirteen centuries of despotism." It was a conflict between the absolutism of kings and the sovereignty of the people; an

impassioned effort to secure the equality of man. The struggle of the opposing forces was terrific and necessarily became confused and chaotic, but out of this condition were evolved, in time, the blessings of justice and liberty. Burk says it is "the reciprocal struggle of discordant powers that draws forth the harmony of the universe." "Out of this chaos of shadow and this stormy flight of clouds," cries Victor Hugo, “shone immense rays of light parallel to the eternal laws."

Although in the name of the principles of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity the most atrocious crimes were committed, we must not confound these excesses with the true spirit and aims of the Revolution. The principles for which the French contended in 1789 were the same as those for which our fathers fought in 1776. It is this sentiment alone that invokes our sympathy in behalf of this great struggle. To be fair we must, therefore, as we have elsewhere observed, judge it not only by its violence and outrages, but also by its results. Compare, if you will, the political conditions of Europe prior to the Revolution with those subsequent thereto, and then answer the questions as to whether or not it was a necessity and whether or not it accomplished any good.

"That the French Revolution," says Morley, "led to an immense augmentation of happiness, both for the French and for mankind, cannot be denied." "It swept away," says De Tocqueville, "the feudal institutions and replaced them with a social and political order more uniform and

simple, and based upon the principles of the equality of all before the law." Its influence was felt not only in France, but throughout the world; and from it may be dated the freedom in thought and government of modern times. "When the Convention declared: The liberty of one citizen ends where the liberty of another citizen begins,' it summed up in a simple axiom the whole law of human society."

As has already been said, under Louis XV and Louis XVI things had been going from bad to worse. The whole nation was in a state of excitement and all joined in denouncing the abuses, the profligacy, and the extravagance of the court. The country was bankrupt. Every conceivable method of taxation to increase the revenues and to provide against a deficiency had been tried, but without avail.

Ministers endeavored to find a mistake in the columns of the accounts, but all kinds of twisting could not conceal the fact that the annual deficit was increasing. Statement after statement was issued to appease the anxiety of the public, but no amount of arithmetical calculation could hide the truth. A witty counselor, punning on the word états" statements said: "Ce ne sont pas des états, mais des états generaux qu'il nous faut" — "It is not statements but States-General that we need."

It would seem reasonable to suppose that the nobility, in the face of the existing conditions, would have been willing to make concessions; that they would have been wise, patriotic, and sympathetic enough even to sacrifice some of their privileges; but the moment they were called upon to abate, relinquish, or destroy some of the prevailing abuses, abuses which, like a cancer, had for generations been eating into the vitals of the nation, they resented the interference. They were mainly responsible for the evils and it was their duty to aid in suppressing them, but they had abandoned themselves so absolutely to pleasure that they had lost all sense of public responsibility. So long had they continued in this course without restraint that time seemed to have sanctioned their right of indulgence, and any interference with it by the public was deemed by them unreasonable and without warrant.

Their greed had so multiplied the burdens of the people that the day of reckoning was rapidly approaching, but with a blindness born of obstinacy and selfishness they could not, or would not, read the signs of coming doom. Although the tempest was about to break, they would not have their peace of mind disturbed, nor their amusements interrupted. The gay and rollicking courtiers, wallowing in pleasure, squandering the public revenues, drawing extravagantly against the civil list, heeding no advice, insolently ignoring public opinion, turned a deaf ear to all prognostications.

The winter of '88 and '89 was one of unusual