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Genet, as we have observed, landed at Charleston, in South Carolina, instead of a port near the seat of the government to which he came accredited. The circumstance was not regarded of much consequence at the time, as it might have been the result of accident; but the development of his designs, in accordance with secret instructions from his government, soon revealed the fact that he chose that southern port for his destination, because its contiguity to the West Indies would give it peculiar convenience as a resort for privateers, the employment of which was a part of the programme of his diplomatic functions.

Genet came in the French frigate L'Embuscade, and was received with most enthusiastic rejoicings by Governor Moultrie and the citizens of Charleston. This reception, acting upon his ardent nature, made him forgetful of his relations to the government to which he was sent; and with a zeal untempered by sound judgment, and a mind mistaking the evanescent demonstrations of personal respect, and the exhibition of popular feeling toward the French republic in that southern city for the settled convictions of the American people, he commenced the performance of his duties under his secret instructions, before he laid his credentials before the United States government, and asked for his reception as the representative of his nation. By these private instructions, assuming that the American executive might not be sufficiently compliant with the wishes of the French government, he was authorized to employ, with the people of the United States, the same policy which had been so successfully used in Europe in producing revolutions.

Genet was provided with blank commissions, both naval and military; and while enjoying the flattering attentions at Charleston for several days, he undertook to authorize the fitting out and arming of vessels in that port as privateers, to depredate upon the commerce of England and other nations at war with France. For this purpose he granted commissions, enlisted men, and, by authority assumed by him under a decree of the convention, he constituted all consuls of France the heads of courts of admiralty, to try, condemn, and authorize the sale of all property seized by the privateer cruisers sailing under Genet's letters of marque. Two of these privateers, manned chiefly by Americans, soon put to sea under the French flag, cruised along the Carolina coasts, and captured many homeward-bound British vessels and took them into the port of Charleston. The frigate in which Genet came to America became one of these privateers, and proceeded northward toward Philadelphia, plundering the sea on her way.

The French minister travelled to Philadelphia by land, and reached that city on the sixteenth of May. His journey was like a continued ovation. The whole country through which he passed, electrified by the French Revolution, appeared alive with excitement; and the honors which the republicans, in their antipathy to aristocracy, had been anxious to withhold from Washington because it was man-worship, were lavished upon the person of the representative of the French republic without stint. On approaching Philadelphia he was met at Gray's ferry, on the Schuylkill, by a considerable number of persons, who had come to welcome him to the federal capital, and to escort him to his lodgings;[47] and on the following day he received addresses from several societies and from the citizens at large, who waited upon him in a body.

Meanwhile, L'Embuscade had arrived at Philadelphia with a British vessel, called The Grange, as a prize; and intelligence of Genet's unwarrantable proceedings at Charleston in authorizing privateers had been received. Yet so wild and unthinking was the popular enthusiasm that appeared on the surface of society, that scarcely a word in condemnation of his conduct was offered. On the contrary, these things appeared to increase the zeal of his political sympathizers, and made Genet's reception, in some respects, more flattering to his personal and national pride. In a letter to Madison at this time, Jefferson, influenced by the exultation of the movement, and in apparent forgetfulness of the serious offence which the ardent Genet had committed against the dignity of the United States and the courtesy of nations, wrote:—

So eager were the republicans of Philadelphia to do honor to Genet, that, before he had presented his credentials to the president, he was invited to an evening feast. Indeed, preparations for his reception and the “republican dinner” had been made several days before, and this invitation was only a part of the programme. Genet was delighted by this demonstration—a demonstration (arranged chiefly by the labors of Peter S. Duponceau, who came to America originally as the secretary of Baron Steuben, and who was now secretary of a secret society of Frenchmen, which met at Barney M'Shane's, sign of the bunch of grapes, number twenty-three North Third street) that should strike with terror the “cowardly, conservative, Anglo-men, and monarchists,” led by President Washington; and his joy was heightened by reading an approving history of the proceedings in Freneau's paper, the organ of the secretary of state. He even seemed for a moment to doubt the expediency of presenting his credentials at all, because Washington was evidently not ready to comply with all his wishes, and he believed that the whole American people were friends of France, and the enemies of all her opponents.

Genet, however, did present his credentials on the nineteenth of May, and was officially accredited. In that ceremony his pride was touched and his enthusiasm was abated. He found in the presence of Washington an atmosphere of dignity and greatness wholly unexpected, and thoroughly overpowering. He felt his littleness in the presence of that noble representative of the best men and the soundest principles of the American republic, and he returned from the audience abashed and subdued; for the genuine courtesy exhibited by the president, and the words of sincere friendship for the French nation which he uttered, had touched Genet's sensibilities; while the severe simplicity and dignity of manner, and the absence of that effervescent enthusiasm in the midst of which he had been cast since his arrival, administered rebuke alike to the adulators in public places, and his own pretentious aspirations. He had come with secret instructions to foment war between the United States and England for the benefit of France, but that single interview with Washington made him feel, for the time, that his efforts must result in failure; for the word of the chief magistrate was yet almost as omnipotent as law with the greater portion of his countrymen.

Genet was relieved of the chill by the evening banquet, where all was enthusiasm and boisterous mirth. It was given at Oeller's hotel, and quite a large number of republicans were at the board. A patriotic ode written in French, by Duponceau, and translated into English by Freneau, was sung; and the Marseilles hymn was chanted by Genet and the company, the minister adding two stanzas composed by himself, and having special reference to the navy. This followed the reception of a deputation of sailors from the frigate L'Embuscade, who, when they entered the room, were received by the guests with a “fraternal embrace.” The table was decorated with the tree of liberty and the French and American flags; and after the last regular toast of the evening was given, the bonnet rouge, or red cap of liberty, was placed first upon the head of Genet, and then upon each one present in turn, the recipient being expected, under the inspiration of the emblem of freedom, to utter a patriotic sentiment. The national flags were finally delivered to the French sailors, who “swore to defend till death these tokens of liberty, and of American and French fraternity.”

To the superficial observer, the great mass of the people seemed carried away with a monomaniac frenzy. Democratic societies were founded in imitation of Jacobin clubs; everything that was respectable in society was denounced as aristocratic; politeness was looked upon as a sort of lese republicanisme; the common forms of expression in use by the sans culottes were adopted by their American disciples; the title “citizen” became as common in Philadelphia as in Paris; and in the newspapers it was the fashion to announce marriages as partnerships between “Citizen” Brown, Smith, or Jones, and the “citess,” who had been wooed to such an association. Entering the house of the president, Citizen Genet was astonished and indignant at perceiving in the vestibule a bust of Louis XVI, whom his friends had beheaded, and he complained of this “insult to France.” At a dinner, at which Governor Mifflin was present, a roasted pig received the name of the murdered king, and the head, severed from the body, was carried round to each of the guests, who, after placing the liberty cap on his own head, pronounced the word “Tyrant!” and proceeded to mangle with his knife that of the luckless creature doomed to be served for so unworthy a company! One of the democratic taverns displayed as a sign a revolting picture of the mutilated and bloody corpse of Marie Antoinette.[48]

Nor was this enthusiasm confined to Philadelphia. In his admirable daguerreotype of old New York, the venerable Doctor Francis has given a vivid picture, from memory, of the effect of Genet's arrival and sojourn in the country. Speaking of the arrival of L'Embuscade, he says: “The notoriety of the event and its consequences enables me to bring to feeble recollection many of the scenes which transpired in this city at that time: the popular excitement and bustle; the liberty cap; the entrÉe of Citizen Genet; the red cockade; the song of the Carmagnole, in which with childish ambition I united; the rencontre with the Boston frigate, and the commotion arising from Jay's treaty. Though I can not speak earnestly from actual knowledge, we must all concede that these were the times when political strife assumed a formidable aspect—when the press most flagrantly outraged individual rights and domestic peace—when the impugners of the Washingtonian administration received new weapons, with which to inflict their assaults upon tried patriotism, by every arrival from abroad announcing France in her progress. The federalists and the anti-federalists now became the federal and the republican party; the Carmagnole sung every hour of every day in the streets, and on stated days at the Belvidere Club-house, fanned the embers and enkindled that zeal which caused the overthrow of many of the soundest principles of American freedom. Even the yellow fever, which, from its novelty and its malignity, struck terror into every bosom, and was rendered more lurid by the absurd preventive means of burning tar and tar-barrels in almost every street, afforded no mitigation of party animosity; and Greenleaf with his Argus, Freneau with his Time-Piece, and Cobbett with his Porcupine Gazette, increased the consternation, which only added to the inquietude of the peaceable citizen, who had often reasoned within himself that a seven-years' carnage, through which he had passed, had been enough for one life.”

“Much I saw—much has been told me by the old inhabitants now departed,” says Doctor Francis. “When the entire American nation, nay, when the civilized world at large, seemed electrified by the outbreak of the Revolution in France, it necessarily followed, as the shadow does the substance, that the American soul, never derelict, could not but enkindle with patriotic warmth at the cause of that people whose loftiest desire was freedom—of that people who themselves had, with profuse appropriation, enabled that very bosom, in the moment of hardest trial, to inhale the air of liberty. Successive events had now dethroned the monarchy of France, and the democratic spirit was now evolved in its fullest element. It was not surprising that the experienced and the sober champions who had effected the great revolution of the colonies should now make the cause of struggling France their own; and as victors already in one desperate crisis, they seemed ready to enter into a new contest for the rights of man. The masses coalesced and co-operated. Cheering prospects of sympathy and of support were held out in the prospective to their former friends and benefactors abroad. Jealousy of Britain—affection for France—was now the prevailing impulse, and the business of the day was often interrupted by tumultuous noises in the streets. Groups of sailors might be seen collected on the docks and at the shipping, ready to embark on a voyage of plunder; merchants and traders, in detached bodies, might be seen discussing the hazards of commerce; the schools liberated from their prescribed hours of study, because of some fresh report of L'Embuscade or of Genet; the schoolmaster uttering in his dismissal a new reason for the study of the classics, by expounding with oracular dignity to his scholars, Vivat Respublica, broadly printed as the caption of the playbill or the pamphlet just issued.”[49]

But, fortunately for the United States, there were many strong, sober, and patriotic men, who had looked calmly upon the storms of the French Revolution, and wisely interpreted its portents. On the same day when Genet was received by the president and feasted by the republicans, an address was presented to Washington, signed by three hundred of the principal merchants and other “solid men” of Philadelphia, declaring their high sense of the wisdom and goodness which dictated his late proclamation of neutrality; and that the signers, believing that nothing was necessary to the happiness of the United States but a continuance of peace, not only would heed that proclamation themselves, but discountenance, in the most pointed manner, any contrary disposition in others. In his reply, Washington, with his usual dignity and discretion, expressed a hope that, in the critical juncture of public affairs, the people would evince as much freedom in pursuing peace, as they had previously displayed valor in vindicating their just rights.

The conservative class to whom we have alluded was composed of the best materials of American society. They were firm, consistent, and quiet; and while the noise that attended the demonstrations in favor of the French Revolution appeared to the shallow and timid as the voice of the nation, a very large majority of the people doubtless sympathized with the restraining measures of the president.

Among those who had wisely interpreted the teachings of the Revolution in France, and deprecated the infatuation of his countrymen who had adopted the doctrines of the Jacobins, was Hamilton. To a friend who had expressed his sorrow because of the aspect of the public feeling at that time, he revealed his views freely—views which were held in common with Washington and the great conservative party of which he was the head. “I agree with you,” Hamilton said, “in the reflections you make on the tendency of public demonstrations of attachment to the cause of France. 'Tis certainly not wise to expose ourselves to the jealousy and resentment of the rest of the world, by a fruitless display of zeal for that cause. It may do us much harm, and it can do France no good (unless, indeed, we are to embark in the war with her, which nobody is so hardy as to avow, though some secretly machinate it). It can not be without danger and inconvenience to our interests, to impress on the nations of Europe an idea that we are actuated by the same spirit which has, for some time past, fatally misguided the measures of those who conduct the affairs of France, and sullied a cause once glorious, and that might have been triumphant. The cause of France is compared with that of America during its late Revolution. Would to Heaven that the comparison were just. Would to Heaven that we could discern in the mirror of French affairs the same decorum, the same gravity, the same order, the same dignity, the same solemnity, which distinguished the cause of the American Revolution. Clouds and darkness would not then rest upon the issue as they now do. I own I do not like the comparison. When I contemplate the horrid and systematic massacres of the second and third of September; when I observe that a Murat and a Robespierre, the notorious prompters of those bloody scenes, sit triumphantly in the convention and take a conspicuous part in its measures—that an attempt to bring the assassins to justice has been abandoned; when I see an unfortunate prince, whose reign was a continued demonstration of the goodness and benevolence of his heart, of his attachment to the people of whom he was the monarch, who, though educated in the lap of despotism, had given repeated proofs that he was not the enemy of liberty, brought precipitately and ignominiously to the block without any substantial proof of guilt, as yet disclosed—without even an authentic exhibition of motives, in decent regard to the opinions of mankind; when I find the doctrines of atheism openly advanced in the convention, and heard with loud applauses; when I see the sword of fanaticism extended to force a political creed upon citizens who were invited to submit to the arms of France as the harbingers of liberty; when I behold the hand of rapacity outstretched to prostrate and ravish the monuments of religious worship, erected by those citizens and their ancestors; when I perceive passion, tumult, and violence, usurping those seats where reason and cool deliberation ought to preside—I acknowledge that I am glad to believe there is no real resemblance between what was the cause of America and what is the cause of France; that the difference is no less great than that between liberty and licentiousness. I regret whatever has a tendency to confound them, and I feel anxious, as an American, that the ebullitions of inconsiderate men among us may not tend to involve our reputation in the issue.”[50]

Genet had scarcely reached the seat of government, before his conduct in authorizing the fitting out of privateers, and the capture of The Grange by L'Embuscade, called forth complaints from Mr. Hammond, the British minister at Philadelphia. Genet, in his address to the president on presenting his credentials, had disavowed any wish to involve the United States in the pending war.

“We wish you to do nothing,” he said, “but what is for your own good, and we will do all in our power to promote it. Cherish your own peace and prosperity. You have expressed a willingness to enter into a more liberal commerce with us; I bring full powers to form such a treaty, and a preliminary decree of the National Convention to lay open our country and its colonies to you, for every purpose of utility, without your participating in the burden of maintaining and defending them. We see in you the only person on earth who can love us sincerely, and merit to be so loved.”

This was uttered while the secret instructions in his pocket authorized him to foment discord between the United States and Great Britain; to set the government of our republic at defiance, if necessary; and in the face of his open insult to the government by his acts at Charleston. And yet Mr. Jefferson, apparently blinding his eyes to passing events in Genet's brief career here, said in a letter to Madison, in reference to the French minister's speech, “It was impossible for anything to be more affectionate, more magnanimous, than the purport of Genet's mission.... He offers everything and asks nothing.”

“Yet I know,” Jefferson added, “that the offers will be opposed, and suspect they will not be accepted. In short, my dear sir, it is impossible for you to conceive what is passing in our conclave; and it is evident that one or two [meaning Hamilton and Knox] at least, under pretence of avoiding war on the one side, have no great antipathy to run foul of it on the other, and to make a part in the confederacy of princes against human liberty.” Thus, on all occasions, the secretary of state ungenerously charged those of his official associates who could not lovingly embrace the bloody French Jacobins as brothers, with monarchical principles, and designs to subvert the government of the United States. To Washington he expressed the same suspicions; and, from his own record in his Anas, he appears to have been rebuked by the president, and to have persisted in a most unfriendly course. “He [the president] observed,” he said, “that if anybody wanted to change the form of our government into a monarchy, he was sure it was only a few individuals, and that no man in the United States would set himself against it more than himself; but that this was not what he was afraid of—his fears were from another quarter—that there was more danger of anarchy being introduced.”

Washington, according to the same record, then spoke with great warmth concerning the hostility of Freneau as manifested in his newspaper. He despised all personal attacks upon himself; but, he said, not a solitary act of the government had escaped the slanderer's assaults. He adverted to the fact that Freneau (evidently for the impudent purpose of insulting Washington) sent him three of his papers every day; and Mr. Jefferson records these facts in a way that shows the enjoyment he seemed to derive from such evidences of great annoyance displayed by the president. “He was evidently sore and worn,” wrote Mr. Jefferson, “and I took his intention to be, that I should interpose in some way with Freneau—perhaps withdraw his appointment of translating clerk in my office. But I will not do it.”

“It appears to us,” says Mr. Irving,[51] “rather an ungracious determination on the part of Jefferson to keep this barking cur in his employ, when he found him so annoying to the chief, whom he professed, and we believe with sincerity, to revere.[52] Neither are his reasons for so doing satisfactory, savoring as they do of those strong political suspicions already noticed. 'His [Freneau's] paper,' observed he, 'has saved our constitution, which was galloping fast into monarchy, and has been checked by no means so powerfully as by that paper. It is well and universally known that it has been that paper which checked the career of the monocrats. The president, not sensible of the designs of the party, has not, with his usual good sense and sang froid, looked on the efforts and effects of this free press, and seen that though some bad things have passed through it to the public, yet the good have preponderated immensely.'”

On the day succeeding his presentation to the president, Genet addressed an official letter to Mr. Jefferson, announcing his mission, as follows:—

“Single, against innumerable hordes of tyrants and slaves who menace her rising liberty, the French nation would have a right to reclaim the obligations imposed on the United States by the treaties she has contracted with them, and which she has cemented with her blood; but strong in the greatness of her means, and of the power of her principles, not less redoubtable to her enemies than the virtuous arm which she opposes to their rage, she comes, in the very time when the emissaries of our common enemies are making useless efforts to neutralize the gratitude, to damp the zeal, to weaken or cloud the view of your fellow-citizens; she comes, I say, that generous nation, that faithful friend, to labor still to increase the prosperity and add to the happiness which she is pleased to see them enjoy.“The obstacles raised with intentions hostile to liberty, by the perfidious ministers of despotism—the obstacles whose object was to stop the rapid progress of the commerce of the Americans and the extension of their principles, exist no more. The French republic, seeing in them but brothers, has opened to them, by the decrees now enclosed, all her ports in the two worlds; has granted them all the favors which her own citizens enjoy in her vast possessions; has invited them to participate the benefits of her navigation, in granting to their vessels the same rights as her own; and has charged me to propose to your government to establish, in a truly family compact—that is, in a national compact—the liberal and fraternal basis on which she wishes to see raised the commercial and political system of two people, all whose interests are blended. I am invested, sir, with the powers necessary to undertake this important negotiation, of which the sad annals of humanity offer no example before the brilliant era at length opening on it.”[53]