wit and science to destroy the power of traditional authority. Voltaire had pelted all religious fanaticism and political tyranny with the tremendous hailstorm of his sarcasm. Rousseau's dreamy philosophy had moved the sentimental with the beauties of his restored state of nature, and inflamed the imagination of the young with the picture of an ideal republic. Everybody had become a philosopher, and every philosopher thought it his office to deny some of the things which formerly had been taken for granted, and to smile at some of the beliefs he himself had formerly respected. Society was fairly ringing with ironical laughter at itself. Witty negation was the most spicy amusement of members of the Church, and the salons of the highest aristocracy resounded with discussions of philosophical republicanism. Society danced upon a volcano, knowing the crust to be thin, and eagerly knocking holes into it. The very persons who constituted the traditional order of things played gayly with the fire that was to consume them.
To this society the American Revolution, a people far away in the Western wilds fighting for their liberty, appeared like a theatrical performance illustrating their own vague dreams. They became enthusiastic over the piece, were eager to applaud the heroes of the drama and willing to pay for the spectacle—aye, some, moved by genuine feeling, to take part in the performance as actors themselves.
But things went badly at the beginning on the American theater of war, and the interest in France began to flag. The French government was not unselfish. While it desired to cripple and humiliate England, it had taken care not to compromise itself so far as to be obliged to see the revolted colonies through at any cost. It still might without disgracing or endangering itself have abandoned them, if they showed no self-sustaining power. And, no
