[176] From the first, devotion to the French cause had not been quite unanimous. Here and there, scattered through the country, a man might be found who from the beginning of the Revolution had cherished misgivings as to the essential soundness of the principles of the French in the conflict they were waging with despotism. Occasionally a man had ventured to speak out, voicing apprehension and doubt, although usually preferring to adopt the device of pseudonymity. Conspicuous in this by no means large group were the elder and the younger Adams, the former declaring himself in his “Discourses on Davila” (_Cf._ _The Life and Works of John Adams_, vol. vi, pp. 223–403), and the latter in the “Publicola” letters, written in 1791, in response to Paine’s treatise on “The Rights of Man”. Morse, _John Quincy Adams_, p. 18. But _events_, much more than political treatises, were to break the spell which the Revolution in its earlier stages cast over the people of America. [177] No better testimony concerning the unfavorable impression created by the execution of the French king could be had than that supplied by the comment of Salem’s republican minister, the Reverend William Bentley. Under date of March 25, 1793, he wrote: “The melancholy news of the beheading of the Roi de France is confirmed in the public opinion, & the event is regretted most sincerely by all thinking people. The french lose much of their influence upon the hearts of the Americans by this event.” (_Diary_, vol. ii, p. 13. _Cf._ Hazen, _Contemporary American Opinion of the French Revolution_, pp. 254 _et seq._) This thrill of public horror also found expression in the following lines taken from a broadside of the day: “When _Mobs_ triumphant seize the rheins, And guide the _Car_ of _State_, Monarchs will feel the galling chains, And meet the worst of fate: For instance, view the _Gallic_ shore, A nation, _once_ polite See what confusion hovers o’er, A _Star_, that shone so bright. Then from the scene recoil with dread, For LOUIS is no more, The barb’rous _Mob_ cut off his head, And drank the spouting gore. Shall we, the _Sons_ of FREEDOM dare Against so _vile_ a _Race_? Unless we mean ourselves to _bare_ (_sic_) The _palm_ of their disgrace. No! God forbid, the man who feels The force of _pity’s_ call, To join those _Brutes_, whose _sentence_ seals, Whose hearts are made of gall.” (_The Tragedy of Louis Capet, and Printed next the venerable Stump of Liberty Tree, for J. Plumer, Jun., Trader, of Newbury-port._) (In Vol. 21 of Broadsides, Library of Congress.)