tion of 1797 is dated London, and is dedicated to Sir John Cox Hippisley, also, as we have seen, an eye-witness of the beginning of the Revolution.
If there is an element of vanity in some of the gifts I have enumerated, many show a touching sincerity and enthusiasm. But what are we to say of the thousand pairs of soldiers' shoes sent in November 1792 by the London Constitutional Information Society, to be followed by six weekly cargoes of the same kind? Lewis Goldsmith alleges,[1] on the authority of Talleyrand, that France paid for these shoes, as also for the expenses of the deputations who in 1792 congratulated the Convention on the abolition of monarchy. Neither Goldsmith nor Talleyrand bears a high character for veracity, but it is not easy to see why they should invent such a statement, which would render even more burlesque President Grégoire's reply, "The shades of Pym, Hampden, and Sidney hover over your heads, and the moment is doubtless approaching when Frenchmen will go and congratulate the National Convention of Great Britain." Anyhow, it appears that the shoes were seized in the Thames by the English Government.
Turning from donors to suppliants, we meet with Christopher Potter, who in 1791 petitioned the Assembly for a fifteen years' patent for his porcelain processes, promising a quarter of the profits to the
- ↑ "Secret History of the Cabinet of Bonaparte," ii, 152.
