Fauchet, whose conformity of opinions, honesty of feelings for renovation, and even whose somewhat fanciful imagination, which were subsequently destined to associate him in acts, and even on the scaffold, with the Girondists, was born at Domes, in the ancient province of Nivernais.  He embraced the Catholic faith, entered into the free community of the priests of Saint Roch, at Paris, and was for some time preceptor to the children of the marquis de Choiseul, brother of the famous duke de Choiseul, the last minister of the school of Richelieu and Mazarin.  A remarkable talent for speaking gave him a distinguished reputation in the pulpit.  He was appointed preacher to the king, abbe of Montfort, and grand-vicaire of Bourges.  He advanced rapidly towards the first dignities of the church; but his mind had imbibed the spirit of the times.  He was not a destructive, but a reformer of the church, in whose bosom he was born.  His work, entitled De l’Eglise Nationale, proves in him as much respect for the principles of the Christian faith as boldness of desire to change its discipline.  This philosophic faith, which so closely resembles the Christian Platonism which was paramount in Italy under the Medici, and even in the palace of the popes themselves under Leo X., breathed throughout his sacred discourses.  The clergy was alarmed at these lights of the age shining in the very sanctuary.  The Abbe Fauchet was interdicted, and, struck off the list of the king’s preachers.

But the Revolution already opened other tribunes to him.  It burst forth, and he rushed headlong into it, as imagination rushes towards hope.  He fought for it from the day of its birth, and with every kind of weapon.  He shook the people in the primary assemblies, and in the sections; he urged with voice and gesture the insurgent masses under the cannon of the Bastille.  He was seen, sword in hand, to lead on the assailants.  Thrice did he advance, under fire of the cannon, at the head of the deputation which summoned the governor to spare the lives of the citizens, and to surrender.[15] He did not soil his revolutionary zeal with any blood or crime.  He inflamed the mind of the people for liberty; but with him liberty was virtue; nature had endowed him with this twofold character.  There were in his features the high-priest and the hero.  His exterior pleased and attracted the populace.  He was tall and slender, with a wide chest, oval countenance, black eyes, and his dark brown hair set off the paleness of his brow.  His imposing but modest appearance inspired at the first glance favour and respect.  His voice clear, impressive, and full-toned; his majestic carriage, his somewhat mystical style, commanded the reflection, as well as the admiration, of his auditors.  Equally adapted to the popular tribune or the pulpit, electoral assemblies or cathedral were alike too circumscribed in limits for the crowds who flocked to hear him.  It seemed as though he were a revolutionary saint—­Bernard preaching political charity, or the crusade of reason.