If I had undertaken to follow the French revolution through all itſ abſurdities and iniquities, my indolence would long ſince have taken the alarm, and I ſhould have relinquiſhed a taſk become too difficult and too laborious. Events are now too numerous and too complicated to be deſcribed by occaſional remarks; and a narrator of no more pretenſionſ than myſelf may be allowed to ſhrink from an abundance of matter which will hereafter perplex the choice and excite the wonder of the hiſtorian.—Removed from the great ſcene of intrigues, we are little acquainted with them—we begin to ſuffer almoſt before we begin to conjecture, and our ſolicitude to examine cauſes is loſt in the rapidity with which we feel their effects.
Amidſt the more miſchievous changes of a philoſophic revolution, you will have learned from the newſpapers, that the French have adopted a new aera and a new calendar, the one dating from the foundation of their republic, and other deſcriptive of the climate of Paris, and the productions of the French territory. I doubt, however, if theſe new almanack-makers will create ſo much confuſion as might be ſuppoſed, or as they may deſire, for I do not find as yet that their ſyſtem has made its way beyond the public offices, and the country people are particularly refractory, for they perſiſt in holding their fairs, markets, &c. as uſual, without any regard to the hallowed decade of their legiſlators. As it is to be preſumed that the French do not wiſh to relinquiſh all commercial intercourſe with other nations, they mean poſſibly to tack the republican calendar to the rights of man, and ſend their armies to propagate them together; otherwiſe the correſpondence of a Frenchman will be as difficult to interpret with mercantile exactneſs as the characters of the Chineſe.
The vanity of theſe philoſophers would, doubtleſs, be gratified by forcing the reſt of Europe and the civilized world to adopt their uſeleſſ and chimerical innovations, and they might think it a triumph to ſee the inhabitant of the Hebrides date "Vendemiaire," [Alluding to the vintage.] or the parched Weſt-Indian "Nivoſe;" but vanity is not on this, as it is on many other occaſions, the leading principle.—It waſ hoped that a new arrangement of the year, and a different nomenclature of the months, ſo as to baniſh all the commemorations of Chriſtianity, might prepare the way for aboliſhing religion itſelf, and, if it were poſſible to impoſe the uſe of the new calendar ſo far as to exclude the old one, this might certainly aſſiſt their more ſerious atheiſtical operations; but as the ſucceſs of ſuch an introduction might depend on the will of the people, and is not within the competence of the bayonet, the old year will maintain its ground, and theſe pedantic triflers find that they have laboured to no more extenſive a purpoſe, than to furniſh a date to the newſpapers, or to their own decrees, which no one will take the pains to underſtand.
Mankind are in general more attached to cuſtoms than principles. The uſeful deſpotiſm of Peter, which ſubdued ſo many of the prejudices of hiſ countrymen, could not achieve the curtailment of their beards; and you muſt not imagine that, with all the endurance of the French, theſe continual attempts at innovation paſs without murmurs: partial revoltſ happen very frequently; but, as they are the ſpontaneous effect of perſonal ſuffering, not of political manoeuvre, they are without concert or union, of courſe eaſily quelled, and only ſerve to ſtrengthen the government.—The people of Amiens have lately, in one of theſe ſudden effuſions of diſcontent, burnt the tree of liberty, and even the repreſentative, Dumont, has been menaced; but theſe are only the blows of a coward who is alarmed at his own temerity, and dreads the chaſtiſement of it.*
* The whole town of Bedouin, in the ſouth of France, was burnt purſuant to a decree of the convention, to expiate the imprudence of ſome of its inhabitants in having cut down a dead tree of liberty. Above ſixty people were guillotined as accomplices, and their bodieſ thrown into pits, dug by order of the repreſentative, Magnet, (then on miſſion,) before their death. Theſe executions were ſucceeded by a conflagration of all the houſes, and the impriſonment or diſperſion of their poſſeſſors. It is likewiſe worthy of remark, that many of theſe laſt were obliged, by expreſs order of Maignet, to be ſpectators of the murder of their friends and relations.
This crime in the revolutionary code is of a very ſerious nature; and however trifling it may appear to you, it depends only on the will of Dumont to ſacrifice many lives on the occaſion. But Dumont, though erected by circumſtances into a tyrant, is not ſanguinary—he is by nature and education paſſionate and groſs, and in other times might only have been a good natured Poliſſon. Hitherto he has contented himſelf with alarming, and making people tired of their lives, but I do not believe he has been the direct or intentional cauſe of anyone's death. He has ſo often been the hero of my adventures, that I mention him familiarly to you, without reflecting, that though the delegate of more than monarchical power here, he is too inſignificant of himſelf to be known in England. But the hiſtory of Dumont is that of two-thirds of the Convention. He was originally clerk to an attorney at Abbeville, and afterwards ſet up for himſelf in a neighbouring village. His youth having been marked by ſome digreſſions from the "'haviour of reputation," his profeſſion was far from affording him a ſubſiſtence; and the revolution, which ſeems to have called forth all that was turbulent, unprincipled, or neceſſitous in the country, naturally found a partizan in an attorney without practice.—At the election of 1792, when the King's fall and the domination of the Jacobins had ſpread ſo general a terror that no man of character could be prevailed upon to be a candidate for a public ſituation, Dumont availed himſelf of this timidity and ſupineneſs in thoſe who ought to have become the repreſentatives of the people; and, by a talent for intrigue, and a coarſe facility of phraſe-making, (for he has no pretenſions to eloquence,) prevailed on the mob to elect him. His local knowledge, active diſpoſition, and ſubſervient induſtry, render him an uſeful kind of drudge to any prevailing party, and, ſince the overthrow of the Briſſotines, he haſ been entruſted with the government of this and ſome of the neighbouring departments. He profeſſes himſelf a zealous republican, and an apoſtle of the doctrine of univerſal equality, yet unites in his perſon all the attributes of deſpotiſm, and lives with more luxury and expence than moſt of the ci-devant gentry. His former habitation at Oiſemont is not much better than a good barn; but patriotiſm is more profitable here than in England, and he has lately purchaſed a large manſion belonging to an emigrant.
* "Britain no longer pays her patriots with her ſpoils:" and perhapſ it is matter of congratulation to a country, when the profeſſion of patriotiſm is not lucrative. Many agreeable inferences may be made from it—the ſentiment may have become too general for reward, Miniſters too virtuous to fear, or even the people too enlightened to be deceived.
—His mode of travelling, which uſed at beſt to be in the coche d'eau [Paſſage-boat.] or the diligence, is now in a coach and four, very frequently accompanied by a led horſe, and a party of dragoons. I fear ſome of your patriots behold this with envy, and it is not to be wondered at that they ſhould wiſh to ſee a ſimilar revolution in England. What a ſeducing proſpect for the aſſertors of liberty, to have the power of impriſoning and guillotining all their countrymen! What halcyon days, when the ariſtocratic palaceſ* ſhall be purified by ſolacing the fatigueſ of republican virtue, and the levellers of all diſtinction travel with four horſes and a military eſcort!—But, as Robeſpierre obſerves, you are two centuries behind the French in patriotiſm and information; and I doubt if Engliſh republicaniſm will ever go beyond a dinner, and toaſting the manes of Hampden and Sydney. I would, therefore, ſeriouſly adviſe any of my compatriots who may be enamoured of a government founded on the rights of man, to quit an ungrateful country which ſeems ſo little diſpoſed to reward their labours, and enjoy the ſupreme delight of men a ſyſteme, that of ſeeing their theories in action.
* Many of the emigrantſ' houſes were bought by members of the Convention, or people in office. At Paris, crouds of inferior clerks, who could not purchaſe, found means to get lodged in the moſt ſuperb national edifices: Monceaux was the villa of Robeſpierre—St. Juſt occaſionally amuſed himſelf at Raincy—Couthon ſucceed the Comte d'Artois at Bagatelle-and Vliatte, a juryman of the Revolutionary Tribunal, was lodged at the pavillion of Flora, in the Tuilleries, which he ſeems to have occupied as a ſort of Maitre d'Hotel to the Comite de Salut Public.
A propoſ—a decree of the Convention has lately paſſed to ſecure the perſon of Mr. Thomas Paine, and place ſeals on his papers. I hope, however, as he has been inſtalled in all the rights of a French citizen, in addition to his repreſentative inviolability, that nothing more than a temporary retreat is intended for him. Perhaps even his perſonal ſufferings may prove a benefit to mankind. He may, like Raleigh, "in hiſ priſon hours enrich the world," and add new proſelytes to the cauſe of freedom. Beſides, human evils are often only bleſſings in a queſtionable form—Mr. Paine's perſecutions in England made him a legiſlator in France. Who knows but his perſecutions in France may lead to ſome new advancement, or at leaſt add another line to the already crouded title-pages that announce his literary and political diſtinctionſ!
—Yours.
The total ſuppreſſion of all religious worſhip in this country is an event of too ſingular and important a nature not to have been commented upon largely by the Engliſh papers; but, though I have little new to add on the ſubject, my own reflections have been too much occupied in conſequence for me to paſs it over in ſilence.
I am yet in the firſt emotions of wonder: the vaſt edifice which had been raiſed by the blended efforts of religion and ſuperſtition, which had been conſecrated by time, endeared by national taſte, and become neceſſary by habit, has now diſappeared, and ſcarcely left a veſtige of its ruins. To thoſe who revert only to the genius of the Catholic religion, and to former periods of the hiſtory of France, this event muſt ſeem incredible; and nothing but conſtant opportunities of marking itſ gradual approach can reconcile it to probability. The pious chriſtian and the inſidious philoſopher have equally contributed to the general effect, though with very different intentions: the one, conſulting only his reaſon, wiſhed to eſtabliſh a pure and ſimple mode of worſhip, which, diveſted of the allurements of ſplendid proceſſions and impoſing ceremonies, ſhould teach the people their duty, without captivating their ſenſes; the other, better acquainted with French character, knew how little theſe views were compatible with it, and hoped, under the ſpeciouſ pretext of baniſhing the too numerous ornaments of the Catholic practice, to ſhake the foundations of Chriſtianity itſelf. Thus united in their efforts, though diſſimilar in their motives, all parties were eager at the beginning of the revolution for a reform in the Church: the wealth of the Clergy, the monaſtic eſtabliſhments, the ſupernumerary ſaints, were devoted and attacked without pity, and without regret; and, in the zeal and hurry of innovation, the deciſive meaſure, which reduced eccleſiaſtics to ſmall penſions dependent on the ſtate, was carried, before thoſe who really meant well were aware of its conſequences. The next ſtep was, to make the receiving theſe penſions ſubject to an oath, which the ſelfiſh philoſopher, who can coldly calculate on, and triumph in, the weakneſs of human nature, foreſaw would be a brand of diſcord, certain to deſtroy the ſole force which the Clergy yet poſſeſſed—their union, and the public opinion.
Unfortunately, theſe views were not diſappointed: conviction, intereſt, or fear, prevailed on many to take the oath; while doubt, worldly improvidence, or a ſcrupulous piety, deterred others. A ſchiſm took place between the jurors and nonjurorſ—the people became equally divided, and adhered either to the one or the other, as their habits or prepoſſeſſions directed them. Neither party, as it may be imagined, could ſee themſelves deprived of any portion of the public eſteem, without concern, perhaps without rancour; and their mutual animoſity, far from gaining proſelytes to either, contributed only to the immediate degradation and future ruin of both. Thoſe, however, who had not taken the preſcribed oath, were in general more popular than what were called the conſtitutionaliſts, and the influence they were ſuppoſed to exert in alienating the minds of their followers from the new form of government, ſupplied the republican party with a pretext for propoſing their baniſhment.*
*The King's exertion of the power veſted in him by the conſtitution, by putting a temporary negative on this decree, it is well known, was one of the pretexts for dethroning him.
At the King's depoſition this decree took place, and ſuch of the nonjuring prieſts as were not maſſacred in the priſons, or eſcaped the ſearch, were to be embarked for Guiana. The wiſer and better part of thoſe whoſe compliances entitled them to remain, were, I believe, far from conſidering this perſecution of their opponents as a triumph—to thoſe who did, it was of ſhort duration. The Convention, which had hitherto attempted to diſguiſe its hatred of the profeſſion by cenſure and abuſe of a part of its members, began now to ridicule the profeſſion itſelf: ſome repreſented it as uſeleſſ—others as pernicious and irreconcileable with political freedom; and a diſcourſe* was printed, under the ſanction of the Aſſembly, to prove, that the only feaſible republic muſt be ſupported by pure atheiſm.
* Extracts from the Report of Anacharſis Cloots, member of the Committee of Public Inſtruction, printed by order of the National Convention: "Our Sans-culotteſ want no other ſermon but the rights of man, no other doctrine but the conſtitutional precepts and practice, nor any other church than where the ſection or the club hold their meetings, &c. "The propagation of the rights of man ought to be preſented to the aſtoniſhed world pure and without ſtain. It is not by offering ſtrange gods to our neighbours that we ſhall operate their converſion. We can never raiſe them from their abject ſtate by erecting one altar in oppoſition to another. A trifling hereſy iſ infinitely more revolting than having no religion at all. Nature, like the ſun, diffuſes her light without the aſſiſtance of prieſtſ and veſtals. While we were conſtitutional heretics, we maintained an army of an hundred thouſand prieſts, who waged war equally with the Pope and the diſciples of Calvin. We cruſhed the old prieſthood by means of the new, and while we compelled every ſect to contribute to the payment of a pretended national religion, we became at once the abhorrence of all the Catholics and Proteſtants in Europe. The repulſion of our religious belief counteracted the attraction of our political principles.—But truth is at length triumphant, and all the ill-intentioned ſhall no more be able to detach our neighbourſ from the dominion of the rights of man, under pretext of a religiouſ dominion which no longer exiſts.—The purpoſe of religion is no how ſo well anſwered as by preſenting carte blanche to the abuſed world. Every one will then be at liberty to form his ſpiritual regimen to his own taſte, till in the end the invincible aſcendant of reaſon ſhall teach him that the Supreme Being, the Eternal Being, is no other than Nature uncreated and uncreatable; and that the only Providence is the aſſociation of mankind in freedom and equality!— This ſovereign providence affords comfort to the afflicted, rewardſ the good, and puniſhes the wicked. It exerciſes no unjuſt partialities, like the providence of knaves and fools. Man, when free, wants no other divinity than himſelf. This god will not coſt us a ſingle farthing, not a ſingle tear, nor a drop of blood. From the ſummit of our mountain he hath promulgated his laws, traced in evident characters on the tables of nature. From the Eaſt to the Weſt they will be underſtood without the aid of interpreters, comments, or miracles. Every other ritual will be torn in pieces at the appearance of that of reaſon. Reaſon dethrones both the Kingſ of the earth, and the Kings of heaven.—No monarch above, if we wiſh to preſerve our republic below. "Volumes have been written to determine whether or no a republic of Atheiſts could exiſt. I maintain that every other republic is a chimera. If you once admit the exiſtence of a heavenly Sovereign, you introduce the wooden horſe within your wallſ!—What you adore by day will be your deſtruction at night. "A people of theiſts neceſſarily become revelationiſts, that is to ſay, ſlaves of prieſts, who are but religious go-betweens, and phyſicians of damned ſouls. "If I were a ſcoundrel, I ſhould make a point of exclaiming againſt atheiſm, for a religious maſk is very convenient to a traitor. "The intolerance of truth will one day proſcribe the very name of temple 'fanum,' the etymology of fanaticiſm. "We ſhall inſtantly ſee the monarchy of heaven condemned in its turn by the revolutionary tribunal of victorious Reaſon; for Truth, exalted on the throne of Nature, is ſovereignly intolerant. "The republic of the rights of man is, properly ſpeaking, neither theiſtical nor atheiſtical—it is nihiliſtical."
Many of the moſt eminent conforming Prelates and Clergy were arreſted, and even individuals, who had the reputation of being particularly devout, were marked as objects of perſecution. A new calendar waſ deviſed, which excluded the ancient feſtivals, and limited public worſhip to the decade, or tenth day, and all obſervance of the Sabbath waſ interdicted. The priſons were crouded with ſufferers in the cauſe of religion, and all who had not the zeal or the courage of martyrs, abſtained from manifeſting any attachment to the Chriſtian faith.
While this conſternation was yet recent, the Deputies on miſſion in the departments ſhut up the churches entirely: the refuſe of low clubs were paid and encouraged to break the windows and deſtroy the monuments; and theſe outrages, which, it was previouſly concerted, ſhould at firſt aſſume the appearance of popular tumult, were ſoon regulated and directed by the mandates of the Convention themſelves. The churches were again opened, an atheiſtic ritual, and licentious homilies,* were ſubſtituted for the proſcribed ſervice—and an abſurd and ludicrous imitation of the Greek mythology was exhibited, under the title of the Religion of Reaſon.—
* I have read a diſcourſe pronounced in a church at Paris, on the decade, ſo indecent and profane, that the moſt humble audience of a country-puppet ſhow in England would not have tolerated it.
On the principal church of every town was inſcribed, "The Temple of Reaſon;" and a tutelary goddeſs was inſtalled with a ceremony equally pedantic, ridiculous, and profane.*
* At Havre, the goddeſs of Reaſon was drawn on a car by four cart-horſes, and as it was judged neceſſary, to prevent accidents, that the horſes ſhould be conducted by thoſe they were accuſtomed to, the carters were likewiſe put in requiſition and furniſhed with cuiraſſes a l'antique from the theatre. The men, it ſeems, being neither martial nor learned, were not au fait at this equipment, and concluding it was only a waiſtcoat of ceremony, inveſted themſelves with the front behind, and the back part laced before, to the great amuſement of the few who were ſenſible of the miſtake.
Yet the philoſophers did not on this occaſion diſdain thoſe adventitiouſ aids, the uſe of which they had ſo much declaimed againſt while they were the auxiliaries of Chriſtianity.*
* Mr. Gibbon reproaches the Chriſtians with their adoption of the allurements of the Greek mythology.—The Catholics have been more hoſtilely deſpoiled by their modern perſecutors, and may retort that the religion of reaſon is a more groſs appeal to the ſenſes than the darkeſt ages of ſuperſtition would have ventured on.
Muſic, proceſſions, and decorations, which had been baniſhed from the ancient worſhip, were introduced in the new one, and the philoſophical reformer, even in the very attempt to eſtabliſh a religion purely metaphyſical, found himſelf obliged to inculcate it by a groſs and material idolatry.*—
* The French do not yet annex any other idea to the religion of reaſon than that of the female who performs the part of the goddeſs.
Thus, by ſubmitting his abſtractions to the genius of the people, and the imperfections of our nature, perhaps the beſt apology was offered for the errors of that worſhip which had been proſcribed, perſecuted, and ridiculed.
Previous to the tenth day, on which a celebration of this kind was to take place, a Deputy arrived, accompanied by the female goddeſs:* that is, (if the town itſelf did not produce one for the purpoſe,) a Roman dreſs of white ſatin was hired from the theatre, with which ſhe waſ inveſted—her head covered with a red cap, ornamented with oak leaveſ— one arm was reclined on a plough, the other graſped a ſpear—and her feet were ſupported by a globe, and environed by mutilated emblems of ſeodality. [It is not poſſible to explain this coſtume as appropriate.]
* The females who perſonated the new divinity were uſually ſelected from amongſt thoſe who "might make ſectaries of whom they bid but follow," but who were more conſpicuous for beauty than any other celeſtial attribute.—The itinerant goddeſs of the principal townſ in the department de la Somme was the miſtreſs of one Taillefer, a republican General, brother to the Deputy of the ſame name.—I know not, in this military government, whether the General's ſervices on the occaſion were included in his other appointments. At Amiens, he not only provided the deity, but commanded the detachment that ſecured her a ſubmiſſive adoration.
Thus equipped, the divinity and her appendages were borne on the ſhoulders of Jacobins "en bonnet rouge," and eſcorted by the National Guard, Mayor, Judges, and all the conſtituted authorities, who, whether diverted or indignant, were obliged to preſerve a reſpectful gravity of exterior. When the whole cavalcade arrived at the place appointed, the goddeſs was placed on an altar erected for the occaſion, from whence ſhe harangued the people, who, in return, proffered their adoration, and ſung the Carmagnole, and other republican hymns of the ſame kind. They then proceeded in the ſame order to the principal church, in the choir of which the ſame ceremonies were renewed: a prieſt was procured to abjure his faith and avow the whole of Chriſtianity an impoſture;* and the feſtival concluded with the burning of prayer-books, ſaints, confeſſionals, and every thing appropriated to the uſe of public worſhip.**—
*It muſt be obſerved, in juſtice to the French Clergy, that it waſ ſeldom poſſible to procure any who would conſent to this infamy. In ſuch caſes, the part was exhibited by a man hired and dreſſed for the purpoſe.—The end of degrading the profeſſion in the eyes of the people was equally anſwered. ** In many places, valuable paintings and ſtatues were burnt or diſfigured. The communion cups, and other church plate, were, after being exorciſed in Jacobin revels, ſent to the Convention, and the gold and ſilver, (as the author of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire invidiouſly expreſſes himſelf,) the pearls and jewels, were wickedly converted to the ſervice of mankind; as if any thing whoſe value is merely fictitious, could render more ſervice to mankind than when dedicated to an uſe which is equally the ſolace of the rich and the poor—which gratifies the eye without exciting cupidity, ſoothes the bed of ſickneſs, and heals the wounds of conſcience. Yet I am no advocate for the profuſe decorations of Catholic churches; and if I ſeem to plead in their behalf, it iſ that I recollect no inſtance where the depredators of them have appropriated the ſpoil to more laudable purpoſes.
The greater part of the attendants looked on in ſilent terror and aſtoniſhment; whilſt others, intoxicated, or probably paid to act thiſ ſcandalous farce, danced round the flames with an appearance of frantic and ſavage mirth.—It is not to be forgotten, that repreſentatives of the people often preſided as the high prieſts of theſe rites; and their official diſpatches to the convention, in which theſe ceremonies were minutely deſcribed, were always heard with burſts of applauſe, and ſanctioned by decrees of inſertion in the bulletin.*
* A kind of official newſpaper diſtributed periodically at the expence of Government in large towns, and paſted up in public placeſ—it contained ſuch news as the convention choſe to impart, which was given with the exact meaſure of truth or falſehood that ſuited the purpoſe of the day.
I have now conducted you to the period in which I am contemplating France in poſſeſſion of all the advantages which a total dereliction of religious eſtabliſhments can beſtow—at that conſummation to which the labours of modern philoſophers have ſo long tended.
Ye Shafteſburys, Bolingbrokes, Voltaires, and muſt I add the name of Gibbon,* behold yourſelves inſcribed on the regiſters of fame with a Laplanche, a Chenier, an Andre Dumont, or a Fouche!**—
* The elegant ſatiriſt of Chriſtianity will ſmile at the preſumption of ſo humble a cenſurer.—It is certain, the miſapplication only of ſuch ſplendid talents could embolden me to mention the name of the poſſeſſor with diminiſhed reſpect. ** Theſe are names too contemptible for notice, but for the miſchief to which they were inſtrumental—they were among the firſt and moſt remarkable perſecutors of religion.
Do not bluſh at the aſſociation; your views have been the ſame; and the ſubtle underminer of man's beſt comfort in the principles of hiſ religion, is even more criminal than him who prohibits the external exerciſe of it. Ridicule of the ſacred writings is more dangerous than burning them, and a ſneer at the miracles of the goſpel more miſchievouſ than diſfiguring the ſtatues of the evangeliſts; and it muſt be confeſſed that theſe Anti-chriſtian Iconoclaſts themſelves might probably have been content to "believe and ſay their prayers," had not the intolerance of philoſophy made them atheiſts and perſecutors.—The coarſe legend of "death is the ſleep of eternity,"* is only a compendium of the fine-drawn theories of the more elaborate materialiſt, and the depoſitaries of the dead will not corrupt more by the exhibition of this deſolating ſtandard, than the libraries of the living by the volumes which hold out the ſame oblivion to vice, and diſcouragement to virtue.—
* Poſts, bearing the inſcription "la mort eſt un ſommeil eternel," were erected in many public burying-grounds.—No other ceremony iſ obſerved with the dead than encloſing the body in ſome rough boards, and ſending it off by a couple of porters, (in their uſual garb,) attended by a municipal officer. The latter inſcribes on a regiſter the name of the deceaſed, who is thrown into a grave generally prepared for half a ſcore, and the whole buſineſs is finiſhed.
The great experiment of governing a civilized people without religion will now be made; and ſhould the morals, the manners, or happineſs of the French, be improved by it, the ſectaries of modern philoſophy may triumph. Should it happen otherwiſe, the Chriſtian will have an additional motive for cheriſhing his faith: but even the afflictions of humanity will not, I fear, produce either regret or conviction in hiſ adverſary; for the prejudices of philoſophers and ſyſtemiſts are incorrigible.*
* "Ce ne ſont point les philoſophes qui connoiſſent le mieux leſ hommes. Ils ne les voient qu'a travers les prejuges, et je ne fache aucun etat ou l'on en ait tant."—J. J. Rouſſeau. ["It is not among philoſophers that we are to look for the moſt perfect knowledge of human nature.—They view it only through the prejudices of philoſophy, and I know of no profeſſion where prejudices are more abundant."]
We are now quite domeſticated here, though in a very miſerable way, without fire, and with our mattreſſes, on the boards; but we nevertheleſſ adopt the ſpirit of the country, and a total abſence of comfort does not prevent us from amuſing ourſelves. My friend knits, and draws landſcapeſ on the backs of cards; and I have eſtabliſhed a correſpondence with an old bookſeller, who ſends me treatiſes of chemiſtry and fortifications, inſtead of poetry and memoirs. I endeavoured at firſt to borrow books of our companions, but this reſource was ſoon exhauſted, and the whole priſon ſupplied little more than a novel of Florian's, Le Voyage du jeune Anarcharſis, and ſome of the philoſophical romances of Voltaire.—They ſay it ennuyes them to read; and I obſerve, that thoſe who read at all, take their books into the garden, and prefer the moſt crowded walks. Theſe ſtudious perſons, who ſeem to ſurpaſs Crambe himſelf in the faculty of abſtraction, ſmile and bow at every comma, without any appearance of derangement from ſuch frequent interruptions.
Time paſſes ſorrowly, rather than ſlowly; and my thoughts, without being amuſed, are employed. The novelty of our ſituation, the paſt, the future, all offer ſo many ſubjects of reflection, that my mind has more occaſion for repoſe than amuſement. My only external reſource iſ converſing with our fellow-priſoners, and learning the cauſes of their detention. Theſe relations furniſh me with a ſort of "abſtract of the times," and mark the character of the government better than circumſtances of more apparent conſequence; for what are battles, ſieges, and political machinations, but as they ultimately affect the happineſſ of ſociety? And when I learn that the lives, the liberty, and property of no claſs are ſecure from violation, it is not neceſſary one ſhould be at Paris to form an opinion of this period of the revolution, and of thoſe who conduct it.
The perſecution which has hitherto been chiefly directed againſt the Nobleſſe, has now a little ſubſided, and ſeems turned againſt religion and commerce. People are daily arreſted for aſſiſting at private maſſes, concealing images, or even for being poſſeſſors of religious books. Merchants are ſent here as monopolizers, and retailers, under variouſ pretexts, in order to give the committees an opportunity of pillaging their ſhops. It is not uncommon to ſee people of the town who are our guards one day, become our fellow-priſoners the next; and a few weekſ ſince, the ſon of an old gentleman who has been ſome time here, after being on guard the whole day, inſtead of being relieved at the uſual hour, was joined by his wife and children, under the eſcort of a couple of dragoons, who delivered the whole family into the cuſtody of our keeper; and this appears to have happened without any other motive than his having preſented a petition to Dumont in behalf of his father.
An old man was lately taken from his houſe in the night, and brought here, becauſe he was ſaid to have worn the croſs of St. Louis.—The fact is, however, that he never did wear this obnoxious diſtinction; and though his daughter has proved this incontrovertibly to Dumont, ſhe cannot obtain his liberty: and the poor young woman, after making two or three fruitleſs journeys to Paris, is obliged to content herſelf with ſeeing her father occaſionally at the gate.
The refectory of the convent is inhabited by hoſpital nuns. Many of the hoſpitals in France had a ſort of religious order annexed to them, whoſe buſineſs it was to attend the ſick; and habit, perhaps too the aſſociation of the offices of humanity with the duties of religion, had made them ſo uſeful in their profeſſion, that they were ſuffered to remain, even after the abolition of the regular monaſteries. But the devaſtating torrent of the revolution at length reached them: they were accuſed of beſtowing a more tender ſolicitude on their ariſtocratic patients than on the wounded volunteers and republicans; and, upon theſe curious charges, they have been heaped into carts, without a ſingle neceſſary, almoſt without covering, ſent from one department to another, and diſtributed in different priſons, where they are periſhing with cold, ſickneſs, and want! Some people are here only becauſe they happened to be accidentally at a houſe when the owner was arreſted;* and we have one family who were taken at dinner, with their gueſts, and the plate they were uſing!
* It was not uncommon for a mandate of arreſt to direct the taking "Citizen Such-a-one, and all perſons found in his houſe."
A grand-daughter of the celebrated De Witt, who reſided thirty leagueſ from hence, was arreſted in the night, put in an open cart, without any regard to her age, her ſex, or her infirmities, though the rain fell in torrents; and, after ſleeping on ſtraw in different priſons on the road, was depoſited here. As a Fleming, the law places her in the ſame predicament with a very pretty young woman who has lived ſome months at Amiens; but Dumont, who is at once the maker, the interpreter, and executor of the laws, has exempted the latter from the general proſcription, and appears daily with her in public; whereas poor Madame De Witt is excluded from ſuch indulgence, being above ſeventy years old— and is accuſed, moreover, of having been moſt exemplarily charitable, and, what is ſtill worſe, very religious.—I have given theſe inſtanceſ not as any way remarkable, and only that you may form ſome idea of the pretexts which have ſerved to cover France with priſons, and to conduct ſo many of its inhabitants to the ſcaffold.
It is impoſſible to reflect on a country in ſuch a ſituation, without abhorring the authors of it, and dreading the propagation of their doctrines. I hope they neither have imitators nor admirers in England; yet the convention in their debates, the Jacobins, and all the French newſpapers, ſeem ſo ſanguine in their expectation, and ſo poſitive in their aſſertions of an Engliſh revolution, that I occaſionally, and in ſpite of myſelf, feel a vague but ſerious ſolicitude, which I ſhould not have ſuppoſed the apprehenſion of any political evil could inſpre. I know the good ſenſe and information of my countrymen offer a powerful reſource againſt the love of change and metaphyſical ſubtilties; but, it is certain, the French government have much depended on the ſpirit of party, and the zeal of their propagandiſtes. They talk of a Britiſh convention, of a conventional army, and, in ſhort, all France ſeem prepared to ſee their neighbours involved in the ſame diſaſtrous ſyſtem with themſelves. The people are not a little ſupported in this error by the extracts that are given them from your orators in the Houſe of Commons, which teem with nothing but complaints againſt the oppreſſion of their own country, and enthuſiaſtic admiration of French liberty. We read and wonder—collate the Bill of Rights with the Code Revolutionnaire, and again fear what we cannot give credit to.
Since the reports I allude to have gained ground, I have been forcibly ſtricken by a difference in the character of the two nations. At the proſpect of a revolution, all the French who could conveniently leave the country, fled; and thoſe that remained (except adventurers and the banditti that were their accomplices) ſtudiouſly avoided taking any part. But ſo little are our countrymen affected with this ſelfiſh apathy, that I am told there is ſcarcely one here who, amidſt all his preſent ſufferings, does not ſeem to regret his abſence from England, more on account of not being able to oppoſe this threatened attack on our conſtitution, than for any perſonal motive.—The example before them muſt, doubtleſs, tend to increaſe this ſentiment of genuine patriotiſm; for whoever came to France with but a ſingle grain of it in hiſ compoſition, muſt return with more than enough to conſtitute an hundred patriots, whoſe hatred of deſpotiſm is only a principle, and who have never felt its effects.—Adieu.
The factions which have choſen to give France the appellation of a republic, ſeem to have judged, and with ſome reaſon, that though it might anſwer their purpoſe to amuſe the people with ſpecious theories of freedom, their habits and ideas were far from requiring that theſe fine ſchemes ſhould be carried into practice. I know of no example equal to the ſubmiſſion of the French at this moment; and if "departed ſpiritſ were permitted to review the world," the ſhades of Richelieu or Louvoiſ might hover with envy round the Committee of Public Welfare, and regret the undaring moderation of their own politics.
How ſhall I explain to an Engliſhman the doctrine of univerſal requiſition? I rejoice that you can imagine nothing like it.—After eſtabliſhing, as a general principle, that the whole country is at the diſpoſal of government, ſucceeding decrees have made ſpecific claims on almoſt every body, and every thing. The tailors, ſhoemakers,* bakers, ſmiths, ſadlers, and many other trades, are all in requiſition—carts, horſes, and carriages of every kind, are in requiſition—the ſtables and cellars are put in requiſition for the extraction of ſaltpetre, and the houſes to lodge ſoldiers, or to be converted into priſons.
* In order to prevent frauds, the ſhoemakers were obliged to make only ſquare-toed ſhoes, and every perſon not in the army waſ forbidden to wear them of this form. Indeed, people of any pretentions to patriotiſm (that is to ſay, who were much afraid) did not venture to wear any thing but wooden ſhoes; as it had been declared anti-civique, if not ſuſpicious, to walk in leather.
—Sometimes ſhopkeepers are forbidden to ſell their cloth, nails, wine, bread, meat, &c. There are inſtances where whole towns have been kept without the neceſſaries of life for ſeveral days together, in conſequence of theſe interdictions; and I have known it proclaimed by beat of drum, that whoever poſſeſſed two uniforms, two hats, or two pair of ſhoes, ſhould relinquiſh one for the uſe of the army! Yet with all theſe efforts of deſpotiſm, the republican troops are in many reſpects ill ſupplied, the produce being too often converted to the uſe of the agentſ of government, who are all Jacobins, and whoſe peculations are ſuffered with impunity, becauſe they are too neceſſary, or perhaps too formidable for puniſhment.
Theſe proceedings, which are not the leſs miſchievous for being abſurd, muſt end in a total deſtruction of commerce: the merchant will not import what he may be obliged to ſell excluſively to government at an arbitrary and inadequate valuation.—Thoſe who are not impriſoned, and have it in their power, are for the moſt part retired from buſineſs, or at leaſt avoid all foreign ſpeculations; ſo that France may in a few months depend only on her internal reſources. The ſame meaſures which ruin one claſs, ſerve as a pretext to oppreſs and levy contributions on the reſt.—In order to make this right of ſeizure ſtill more productive, almoſt every village has its ſpies, and the domiciliary viſits are become ſo frequent, that a man is leſs ſecure in his own houſe, than in a deſert amidſt Arabs. On theſe occaſions, a band of Jacobins, with a municipal officer at their head, enter ſans ceremonie, over-run your apartments, and if they find a few pounds of ſugar, ſoap, or any other article which they chooſe to judge more than ſufficient for immediate conſumption, they take poſſeſſion of the whole as a monopoly, which they claim for the uſe of the republic, and the terrified owner, far from expoſtulating, thinkſ himſelf happy if he eſcapes ſo well.—But this is mere vulgar tyranny: a leſs powerful deſpotiſm might invade the ſecurity of ſocial life, and baniſh its comforts. We are prone to ſuffer, and it requires often little more than the will to do evil to give us a command over the happineſs of others. The Convention are more original, and, not ſatiſfied with having reduced the people to the moſt abject ſlavery, they exact a ſemblance of content, and dictate at ſtated periods the chaſtiſement which awaits thoſe who refuſe to ſmile.
The ſplendid ceremonies at Paris, which paſs for popular rejoicings, merit that appellation leſs than an auto de fe. Every movement iſ previouſly regulated by a Commiſſioner appointed for the purpoſe, (to whom en paſſant theſe fetes are very lucrative jobs,) a plan of the whole is diſtributed, in which is preſcribed with great exactneſs, that at ſuch and ſuch parts the people are to "melt into tears," at otherſ they are to be ſeized with a holy enthuſiaſm, and at the concluſion of the whole they are to rend the air with the cry of "Vive la Convention!" —Theſe celebrations are always attended by a military force, ſufficient to enſure their obſervance, beſides a plentiful mixture of ſpies to notice refractory countenances or faint acclamations.
The departments which cannot imitate the magnificence of Paris, are obliged, nevertheleſs, to manifeſt their ſatiſfaction. At every occaſion on which a rejoicing is ordered, the ſame kind of diſcipline iſ preſerved; and the ariſtocrats, whoſe fears in general overcome their principles, are often not the leaſt zealous attendants.
At the retaking of Toulon, when abandoned by our countrymen, the National Guards were every where aſſembled to participate in the feſtivity, under a menace of three days impriſonment. Thoſe perſons who did not illuminate their houſes were to be conſidered as ſuſpicious, and treated as ſuch: yet, even with all theſe precautions, I am informed the buſineſſ was univerſally cold, and the balls thinly attended, except by ariſtocrats and relations of emigrants, who, in ſome places, with a baſeneſs not excuſed even by their terrors, exhibited themſelves as a public ſpectacle, and ſang the defeats of that country which was armed in their defence.
I muſt here remark to you a circumſtance which does ſtill leſs honour to the French character; and which you will be unwilling to believe. In ſeveral towns the officers and others, under whoſe care the Engliſh were placed during their confinement, were deſirous ſometimes on account of the peculiar hardſhip of their ſituation as foreigners, to grant them little indulgences, and even more liberty than to the French priſoners; and in this they were juſtified on ſeveral conſiderations, as well aſ that of humanity.—They knew an Engliſhman could not eſcape, whatever facility might be given him, without being immediately retaken; and that if his impriſonment were made ſevere, he had fewer external reſources and alleviations than the natives of the country: but theſe favourable diſpoſitions were of no avail—for whenever any of our countrymen obtained an accommodation, the jealouſy of the French took umbrage, and they were obliged to relinquiſh it, or hazard the drawing embarraſſment on the individual who had ſerved them.
You are to notice, that the people in general, far from being averſe to ſeeing the Engliſh treated with a comparative indulgence, were even pleaſed at it; and the invidious compariſons and complaints which prevented it, proceeded from the gentry, from the families of thoſe who had found refuge in England, and who were involved in the common perſecution.—I have, more than once, been reproached by a female ariſtocrat with the ill ſucceſs of the Engliſh army; and many, with whom I formerly lived on terms of intimacy, would refuſe me now the moſt trifling ſervice.—I have heard of a lady, whoſe huſband and brother are both in London, who amuſes herſelf in teaching a bird to repeat abuſe of the Engliſh.
It has been ſaid, that the day a man becomes a ſlave, he loſes half hiſ virtue; and if this be true as to perſonal ſlavery, judging from the examples before me, I conclude it equally ſo of political bondage.—The extreme deſpotiſm of the government ſeems to have confounded every principle of right and wrong, every diſtinction of honour and diſhonour and the individual, of whatever claſs, alive only to the ſenſe of perſonal danger, embraces without reluctance meanneſs or diſgrace, if it inſure his ſafety.—A tailor or ſhoemaker, whoſe reputation perhaps iſ too bad to gain him a livelihood by any trade but that of a patriot, ſhall be beſieged by the flatteries of people of rank, and have levees aſ numerous as Choiſeul or Calonne in their meridian of power.
When a Deputy of the Convention is ſent to a town on miſſion, ſadneſſ takes poſſeſſion of every heart, and gaiety of every countenance. He iſ beſet with adulatory petitions, and propitiating gifts; the Nobleſſe who have eſcaped confinement form a ſort of court about his perſon; and thrice happy is the owner of that habitation at which he condeſcends to reſide.—*
* When a Deputy arrives, the gentry of the town contend with jealouſ rivalſhip for the honour of lodging him; and the moſt eloquent eulogiſt of republican ſimplicity in the Convention does not fail to prefer a large houſe and a good table, even though the unhallowed property of an ariſtocrat.—It is to be obſerved, that theſe Miſſionaries travel in a very patriarchal ſtyle, accompanied by their wives, children, and a numerous train of followers, who are not delicate in availing themſelves of this hoſpitality, and are ſometimes accuſed of carrying off the linen, or any thing elſe portable—even the moſt decent behave on theſe occaſions as though they were at an inn.
—A Repreſentative of gallantry has no reaſon to envy either the authority of the Grand Signor, or the licence of his ſeraglio—he iſ arbiter of the fate of every woman that pleaſes him; and, it is ſuppoſed, that many a fair captive has owed her liberty to her charms, and that the philoſophy of a French huſband has ſometimes opened the doors of hiſ priſon.
Dumont, who is married, and has beſides the countenance of a white Negro, never viſits us without occaſioning a general commotion amongſt all the females, eſpecially thoſe who are young and pretty. As ſoon as it iſ known that he is expected, the toilettes are all in activity, a renovation of rouge and an adjuſtment of curls take place, and, though performed with more haſte, not with leſs ſolicitude, than the preparatory ſplendour of a firſt introduction.—When the great man arrives, he findſ the court by which he enters crowded by theſe formidable priſoners, and each with a petition in her hand endeavours, with the inſidious coquetry of plaintive ſmiles and judicious tears, that brighten the eye without deranging the features, to attract his notice and conciliate his favour. Happy thoſe who obtain a promiſe, a look of complacence, or even of curioſity!—But the attention of this apoſtle of republicaniſm is not often beſtowed, except on high rank, or beauty; and a woman who is old, or ill dreſſed, that ventures to approach him, is uſually repulſed with vulgar brutality—while the very ſight of a male ſuppliant renders him furious. The firſt half hour he walks about, ſurrounded by his fair cortege, and is tolerably civil; but at length, fatigued, I ſuppoſe by continual importunity, he loſes his temper, departs, and throws all the petitions he has received unopened into the fire.
Adieu—the ſubject is too humiliating to dwell on. I feel for myſelf, I feel for human nature, when I ſee the faſtidiouſneſs of wealth, the more liberal pride of birth, and the yet more allowable pretenſions of beauty, degraded into the moſt abject ſubmiſſion to ſuch a being as Dumont. Are our principles every where the mere children of circumſtance, or is it in this country only that nothing is ſtable? For my own part I love inflexibility of character; and pride, even when ill founded, ſeems more reſpectable while it ſuſtains itſelf, than conceſſions which, refuſed to the ſuggeſtions of reaſon, are yielded to the dictates of fear.—Yours.
I was too much occupied by my perſonal diſtreſſes to make any remarks on the revolutionary government at the time of its adoption. The text of this political phoenomenon muſt be well known in England—I ſhall, therefore, confine myſelf to giving you a general idea of its ſpirit and tendency,—It is, compared to regular government, what force is to mechaniſm, or the uſual and peaceful operations of nature to the ravageſ of a ſtorm—it ſubſtitutes violence for conciliation, and ſweeps with precipitate fury all that oppoſes its devaſtating progreſs. It referſ every thing to a ſingle principle, which is in itſelf not ſuſceptible of definition, and, like all undefined power, is continually vibrating between deſpotiſm and anarchy. It is the execrable ſhape of Milton'ſ Death, "which ſhape hath none," and which can be deſcribed only by itſ effects.—For inſtance, the revolutionary tribunal condemns without evidence, the revolutionary committees impriſon without a charge, and whatever aſſumes the title of revolutionary is exonerated from all ſubjection to humanity, decency, reaſon, or juſtice.—Drowning the inſurgents, their wives and children, by boatloads, is called, in the diſpatch to the Convention, a revolutionary meaſure—*
* The detail of the horrors committed in La Vendee and at Nanteſ were not at this time fully known. Carrier had, however, acknowledged, in a report read to the Convention, that a boat-load of refractory prieſts had been drowned, and children of twelve yearſ old condemned by a military commiſſion! One Fabre Marat, a republican General, wrote, about the ſame period, I think from Angers, that the Guillotine was too ſlow, and powder ſcarce, ſo that it was concluded more expedient to drown the rebels, which he callſ a patriotic baptiſm!—The following is a copy of a letter addreſſed to the Mayor of Paris by a Commiſſary of the Government:
"You will give us pleaſure by tranſmitting the details of your fete at Paris laſt decade, with the hymns that were ſung. Here we all cried "Vive la Republique!" as we ever do, when our holy mother Guillotine iſ at work. Within theſe three days ſhe has ſhaved eleven prieſts, one ci-devant noble, a nun, a general, and a ſuperb Engliſhman, ſix feet high, and as he was too tall by a head, we have put that into the ſack! At the ſame time eight hundred rebels were ſhot at the Pont du Ce, and their carcaſes thrown into the Loire!—I underſtand the army is on the track of the runaways. All we overtake we ſhoot on the ſpot, and in ſuch numberſ that the ways are heaped with them!"
—At Lyons, it is revolutionary to chain three hundred victims together before the mouths of loaded cannon, and maſſacre thoſe who eſcape the diſcharge with clubs and bayonets;* and at Paris, revolutionary jurieſ guillotine all who come before them.—**
* The Convention formally voted their approbation of this meaſure, and Collot d'Herbois, in a report on the ſubject, makes a kind of apoſtrophical panegyric on the humanity of his colleagues. "Which of you, Citizens, (ſays he,) would not have fired the cannon? Which of you would not joyfully have deſtroyed all theſe traitors at a blow?" ** About this time a woman who ſold newſpapers, and the printer of them, were guillotined for paragraphs deemed incivique.
—Yet this government is not more terrible than it is minutely vexations. One's property is as little ſecure as one's exiſtence. Revolutionary committees every where ſequeſtrate in the groſs, in order to plunder in detail.*
* The revolutionary committees, when they arreſted any one, pretended to affix ſeals in form. The ſeal was often, however, no other than the private one of ſome individual employed—ſometimeſ only a button or a halfpenny, which was broken as often as the Committee wanted acceſs to the wine or other effects. Camille Deſmoulins, in an addreſs to Freron, his fellow-deputy, deſcribeſ with ſome humour the mode of proceeding of theſe revolutionary pilferers:
"Avant hier, deux Commiſſaires de la ſection de Mutius Scaevola, montent chez lui—ils trouvent dans la bibliotheque des livres de droit; et non-obſtant le decret qui porte qu'on ne touchera point Domat ni a Charleſ Dumoulin, bien qu'ils traitent de matieres feodales, ils ſont main baſſe ſur la moitie de la bibliotheque, et chargent deux Chrocheteurs deſ livres paternels. Ils trouvent une pendule, don't la pointe de Paiguille etoit, comme la plupart des pointes d'aiguilles, terminee en trefle: il leur ſemble que cette pointe a quelque choſe d'approchant d'une fleur de lys; et non-obſtant le decret qui ordonne de reſpecter les monumens deſ arts, il confiſquent la pendule.—Notez bien qu'il y avoit a cote une malle ſur laquelle etoit l'adreſſe fleurdeliſee du marchand.—Ici il n'y avoit pas moyen de aier que ce fut une belle et bonne fleur de lys; maiſ comme la malle ne valoit pas un corſet, les Commiſſaires ſe contentent de rayer les lys, au lieu que la malheureuſe pendule, qui vaut bien 1200 livres, eſt, malgre ſon trefle, emportee par eux-memes, qui ne ſe fioient pas aux Chrocheteurs d'un poid ſi precieux—et ce, en vertu du droit que Barrere a appelle ſi heureuſement le droit de prehenſion, quoique le decret ſ'oppoſat, dans l'eſpece, a l'application de ce droit.—Enfin, notre decemvirat ſectionnaire, qui ſe mettoit ainſi au-deſſus deſ decrets, trouve le brevet de penſion de mon beau-pere, qui, comme touſ les brevets de penſion, n'etant pas de nature a etre porte ſur le grand livre de la republique, etoit demeure dans le porte-feuille, et qui, comme tous les brevets de penſion poſſibles, commencoit par ce protocole; Louis, &c. Ciel! ſ'ecrient les Commiſſaires, le nom du tyran!—Et apreſ avoir retrouve leur haleine, ſuffoquee d'abord par l'indignation, ilſ mettent en poche le brevet de penſion, c'eſt a dire 1000 livres de rente, et emportent la marmite. Autre crime, le Citoyen Dupleſſis, qui etoit premier commis des finances, ſous Clugny, avoit conſerve, comme c'etoit l'uſage, la cachet du controle general d'alorſ—un vieux porte-feuille de commis, qui etoit au rebut, ouble au deſſus d'une armoire, dans un tas de pouſſiere, et auquel il n'avoit pas touche ne meme penſe depuis dix anſ peutetre, et ſur le quel on parvint a decouvrir l'empreinte de quelqueſ fleurs de lys, ſous deux doigts de craſſe, acheva de completer la preuve que le Citoyen Dupleſſis etoit ſuſpect—et la voila, lui, enferme juſqu'a la paix, et le ſcelle mis ſur toutes les portes de cette campagne, ou, tu te ſouviens, mon cher Freroa—que, decretes tous deux de priſe de corps, apres le maſſacre du Champ de Mars, nous trouvions un aſyle que le tyran n'oſoit violer."
"The day before yeſterday, two Commiſſaries belonging to the ſection of Mutius Scaevola, entered my father-in-law's apartments; they found ſome law-books in the library, and, notwithſtanding the decree which exemptſ from ſeizure the works of Domat and Charles Dumouin, (although they treat of feudal matters,) they proceeded to lay violent hands on one half of the collection, and loaded two porters with paternal ſpoils. The next object that attracted their attention was a clock, the hand of which, like the hands of moſt other clocks, terminated in a point, in the form of a trefoil, which ſeemed to them to bear ſome reſemblance to a fleur de lys; and, notwithſtanding the decree which ordains that the monuments of the arts ſhall be reſpected, they immediately paſſed ſentence of confiſcation on the clock. I ſhould obſerve to you, that hard by lay a portmanteau, having on it the maker's addreſs, encircled with lilies.— Here there was no diſputing the fact, but as the trunk was not worth five livres, the Commiſſaries contented themſelves with eraſing the lilies; but the unfortunate clock, being worth twelve hundred, was, notwithſtanding its trefoil, carried off by themſelves, for they would not truſt the porters with ſo precious a load.—And all this was done in virtue of the law, which Barrere aptly denominated the law of prehenſion, and which, according to the terms of the decree itſelf, was not applicable to the caſe in queſtion.
"At length our ſectionary decemvirs, who thus placed themſelves above the law, diſcovered the grant of my father-in-law's penſion, which, like all ſimilar grants, being excluded from the privilege of inſcription on the great regiſter of public debts, had been left in his port-folio; and which began, as all ſuch grants neceſſarily muſt, with the words, Louis, &c. "Heaven!" exclaimed the Commiſſaries, "here is the very name of the tyrant!" And, as ſoon as they recovered their breaths, which had been nearly ſtopped by the violence of the indignation, they coolly pocketed the grant, that is to ſay, an annuity of one thouſand livres, and ſent off the porridge-pot. Nor did theſe conſtitute all the crimes of Citizen Dupleſſis, who, having ſerved as firſt clerk of the revenue board under Clugny, had, as was uſual, kept the official ſeal of that day. An old port-folio, which had been thrown aſide, and long forgotten, under a wardrobe, where it was buried in duſt, and had, in all probability, not been touched for ten years, but, which with much difficulty, waſ diſcovered to bear the impreſſion of a fleur de lys, completed the proof that Citizen Dupleſſis was a ſuſpicious character. And now behold him ſhut up in a priſon until peace ſhall be concluded, and the ſeals put upon all the doors of that country ſeat, where, you may remember, my dear Freron, that at the time when warrants were iſſued for apprehending uſ both, after the maſſacre in the Champ de Mars, we found an aſylum which the tyrant did not dare to violate."
—In a word, you muſt generally underſtand, that the revolutionary ſyſtem ſuperſedes law, religion, and morality; and that it inveſts the Committees of Public Welfare and General Safety, their agents, the Jacobin clubs, and ſubſidiary banditti, with the diſpoſal of the whole country and its inhabitants.
This gloomy aera of the revolution has its frivolities as well as the leſs diſaſtrous periods, and the barbariſm of the moment is rendered additionally diſguſting by a mixture of levity and pedantry.—It is a faſhion for people at preſent to abandon their baptiſmal and family names, and to aſſume that of ſome Greek or Roman, which the debates of the Convention have made familiar.—France ſwarms with Gracchuſ's and Publicolas, who by imaginary aſſimilations of acts, which a change of manners has rendered different, fancy themſelves more than equal to their prototypes.*
* The viciſſitudes of the revolution, and the vengeance of party, have brought half the ſages of Greece, and patriots of Rome, to the Guillotine or the pillory. The Newgate Calendar of Paris containſ as many illuſtrious names as the index to Plutarch's Lives; and I believe there are now many Brutuſ's and Gracchuſ's in durance vile, beſides a Mutius Scaevola condemned to twenty years impriſonment for an unſkilful theft.—A man of Amiens, whoſe name is Le Roy, ſignified to the public, through the channel of a newſpaper, that he had adopted that of Republic.
—A man who ſolicits to be the executioner of his own brother yclepſ himſelf Brutus, and a zealous preacher of the right of univerſal pillage cites the Agrarian law, and ſigns himſelf Lycurgus. Some of the Deputieſ have diſcovered, that the French mode of dreſſing is not characteriſtic of republicaniſm, and a project is now in agitation to drill the whole country into the uſe of a Roman coſtume.—You may perhaps ſuſpect, that the Romans had at leaſt more bodily ſedateneſs than their imitators, and that the ſhrugs, jerks, and carracoles of a French petit maitre, however republicanized, will not aſſort with the grave drapery of the toga. But on your ſide of the water you have a habit of reaſoning and deliberating —here they have that of talking and obeying.