The impatience of Robeſpierre to be releaſed from aſſociates whoſe viewſ too much reſembled his own to leave him an undivided authority, at length overcame his prudence; and, after abſenting himſelf for ſix weeks from the Committee, on the 8th of Thermidor, (26th July,) he threw off the maſk, and in a ſpeech full of myſtery and implications, but containing no direct charges, proclaimed the diviſions which exiſted in the government.—On the ſame evening he repeated this harangue at the Jacobins, while St. Juſt, by his orders, menaced the obnoxious part of the Committee with a formal denunciation to the Convention.—From thiſ moment Billaud Varennes and Collot d'Herbois concluded their deſtruction to be certain. In vain they ſoothed, expoſtulated with, and endeavoured to mollify St. Juſt, ſo as to avert an open rupture. The latter, who probably knew it was not Robeſpierre's intention to accede to any arrangement, left them to make his report.
On the morning of the ninth the Convention met, and with internal dread and affected compoſure proceeded to their ordinary buſineſs.—St. Juſt then aſcended the tribune, and the curioſity or indeciſion of the greater number permitted him to expatiate at large on the intrigues and guilt of every kind which he imputed to a "part" of the Committee.—At the concluſion of this ſpeech, Tallien, one of the devoted members, and Billaud Varennes, the leader of the rival party, opened the trenches, by ſome ſevere remarks on the oration of St. Juſt, and the conduct of thoſe with whom he was leagued. This attack encouraged others: the whole Convention joined in accuſing Robeſpierre of tyranny; and Barrere, who perceived the buſineſs now deciding, ranged himſelf on the ſide of the ſtrongeſt, though the remaining members of the Committee ſtill appeared to preſerve their neutrality. Robeſpierre was, for the firſt time, refuſed a hearing, yet, the influence he ſo lately poſſeſſed ſtill ſeemed to protect him. The Aſſembly launched decrees againſt various of hiſ ſubordinate agents, without daring to proceed againſt himſelf; and had not the indignant fury with which he was ſeized, at the deſertion of thoſe by whom he had been moſt flattered, urged him to call for arreſt and death, it is probable the whole would have ended in the puniſhment of his enemies, and a greater acceſſion of power to himſelf.
But at this criſis all Robeſpierre's circumſpection abandoned him. Having provoked the decree for arreſting his perſon, inſtead of ſubmitting to it until his party ſhould be able to rally, he reſiſted; and by ſo doing gave the Convention a pretext for putting him out of the law; or, in other words, to deſtroy him, without the delay or hazard of a previous trial.
Having been reſcued from the Gens d'Armes, and taken in triumph to the municipality, the news ſpread, the Jacobins aſſembled, and Henriot, the commander of the National Guard, (who had likewiſe been arreſted, and again ſet at liberty by force,) all prepared to act in his defence. But while they ſhould have ſecured the Convention, they employed themſelveſ at the Hotel de Ville in paſſing frivolous reſolutions; and Henriot, with all the cannoneers decidedly in his favour, exhibited an uſeleſſ defiance, by ſtalking before the windows of the Committee of General Safety, when he ſhould have been engaged in arreſting its members.
All theſe imprudences gave the Convention time to proclaim that Robeſpierre, the municipality, and their adherents, were decreed out of the protection of the laws, and in circumſtances of this nature ſuch a ſtep has uſually been deciſive—for however odious a government, if it does but ſeem to act on a preſumption of its own ſtrength, it has alwayſ an advantage over its enemies; and the timid, the doubtful, or indifferent, for the moſt part, determine in favour of whatever wears the appearance of eſtabliſhed authority. The people, indeed, remained perfectly neuter; but the Jacobins, the Committees of the Sections, and their dependents, might have compoſed a force more than ſufficient to oppoſe the few guards which ſurrounded the National Palace, had not the publication of this ſummary outlawry at once paralyzed all their hopeſ and efforts.—They had ſeen multitudes hurried to the Guillotine, becauſe they were "hors de la loi;" and this impreſſion now operated ſo forcibly, that the cannoneers, the national guard, and thoſe who before were moſt devoted to the cauſe, laid down their arms, and precipitately abandoned their chiefs to the fate which awaited them. Robeſpierre was taken at the Hotel de Ville, after being ſeverely wounded in the face; his brother broke his thigh, in attempting to eſcape from a window; Henriot waſ dragged from concealment, deprived of an eye; and Couthon, whom nature had before rendered a cripple, now exhibited a moſt hideous ſpectacle, from an ineffectual effort to ſhoot himſelf.—Their wounds were dreſſed to prolong their ſuffering, and their ſentence being contained in the decree that outlawed them, their perſons were identified by the ſame tribunal which had been the inſtrument of their crimes. —On the night of the tenth they were conveyed to the ſcaffold, amidſt the inſults and execrations of a mob, which a few hours before beheld them with trembling and adoration.—Lebas, alſo a member of the convention, and a principal agent of Robeſpierre, fell by his own hand; and Couthon, St. Juſt, and ſeventeen others, ſuffered with the two Robeſpierres.—The municipality of Paris, &c. to the number of ſeventy-two, were guillotined the ſucceeding day, and about twelve more the day after.
The fate of theſe men may be ranked as one of the moſt dreadful of thoſe examples which hiſtory vainly tranſmits to diſcourage the purſuits of ambition. The tyrant who periſhes amidſt the impoſing fallaciouſneſs of military glory, mingles admiration with abhorrence, and reſcues hiſ memory from contempt, if not from hatred. Even he who expiates hiſ crimes on the ſcaffold, if he die with fortitude, becomes the object of involuntary compaſſion, and the award of juſtice is not often rendered more terrible by popular outrage. But the fall of Robeſpierre and hiſ accomplices was accompanied by every circumſtance that could add poignancy to ſuffering, or dread to death. The ambitious ſpirit which had impelled them to tyrannize over a ſubmiſſive and defenceleſs people, abandoned them in their laſt moments. Depreſſed by anguiſh, exhauſted by fatigue, and without courage, religion, or virtue, to ſupport them, they were dragged through the ſavage multitude, wounded and helpleſs, to receive that ſtroke, from which even the pious and the brave ſometimeſ ſhrink with diſmay.
Robeſpierre poſſeſſed neither the talents nor merits of Nicolas Riezi; but they are both conſpicuous inſtances of the mutability of popular ſupport, and there is a ſtriking ſimilitude in the laſt events of their hiſtory. They both degraded their ambition by cowardice—they were both deſerted by the populace, whom they began by flattering, and ended by oppreſſing; and the death of both was painful and ignominiouſ—borne without dignity, and embittered by reproach and inſult.*
* Robeſpierre lay for ſome hours in one of the committee-rooms, writhing with the pain of his wound, and abandoned to deſpair; while many of his colleagues, perhaps thoſe who had been the particular agents and applauders of his crimes, paſſed and repaſſed him, glorying and jeſting at his ſufferings. The reader may compare the death of Robeſpierre with that of Rienzi; but if the people of Rome revenged the tyranny of the Tribune, they were neither ſo mean nor ſo ferocious as the Pariſians.
You will perceive by this ſummary that the overthrow of Robeſpierre waſ chiefly occaſioned by the rivalſhip of his colleagues in the Committee, aſſiſted by the fears of the Convention at large for themſelves.—Another circumſtance, at which I have already hinted, as having ſome ſhare in this event, ſhall be the ſubject of my next letter.
Amour, tu perdis Troye [Love! thou occaſionedſt the deſtruction of Troy.]:—yet, among the various miſchiefs aſcribed to the influence of this capricious Sovereign, amidſt the wrecks of ſieges, and the ſlaughter of battles, perhaps we may not unjuſtly record in his praiſe, that he waſ inſtrumental to the ſolace of humanity, by contributing to the overthrow of Robeſpierre. It is at leaſt pleaſing to turn from the general horrorſ of the revolution, and ſuppoſe, for a moment, that the ſocial affectionſ were not yet entirely baniſhed, and that gallantry ſtill retained ſome empire, when every other veſtige of civilization was almoſt annihilated.
After ſuch an exordium, I feel a little aſhamed of my hero, and could wiſh, for the credit of my tale, it were not more neceſſary to invoke the hiſtoric muſe of Fielding, than that of Homer or Taſſo; but imperiouſ Truth obliges me to confeſs, that Tallien, who is to be the ſubject of this letter, was firſt introduced to celebrity by circumſtances not favourable for the comment of my poetical text.
At the beginning of the revolution he was known only as an eminent orator en plain vent; that is, as a preacher of ſedition to the mob, whom he uſed to harangue with great applauſe at the Palais Royal. Having no profeſſion or means of ſubſiſtence, he, as Dr. Johnſon obſerves of one of our poets, neceſſarily became an author. He was, however, no farther entitled to this appellation, than as a periodical ſcribbler in the cauſe of inſurrection; but in this he was ſo ſucceſſful, that it recommended him to the care of Petion and the municipality, to whom his talents and principles were ſo acceptable, that they made him Secretary to the Committee.
On the ſecond and third of September 1792, he ſuperintended the maſſacre of the priſons, and is alledged to have paid the aſſaſſins according to the number of victims they diſpatched with great regularity; and he himſelf ſeems to have little to ſay in his defence, except that he acted officially. Yet even the imputation of ſuch a claim could not be overlooked by the citizens of Paris; and at the election of the Convention he was diſtinguiſhed by being choſen one of their repreſentatives.
It is needleſs to deſcribe his political career in the Aſſembly otherwiſe than by adding, that when the revolutionary furor was at its acme, he waſ deemed by the Committee of Public Welfare worthy of an important miſſion in the South. The people of Bourdeaux were, accordingly, for ſome time haraſſed by the uſual effects of theſe viſitationſ—impriſonments and the Guillotine; and Tallien, though eclipſed by Maignet and Carrier, was by no means deficient in the patriotic energies of the day.
I think I muſt before have mentioned to you a Madame de Fontenay, the wife of an emigrant, whom I occaſionally ſaw at Mad. de C____'s. I then remarked her for the uncommon attraction of her features, and the elegance of her perſon; but was ſo much diſguſted at a tendency to republicaniſm I obſerved in her, and which, in a young woman, I thought unbecoming, that I did not promote the acquaintance, and our different purſuits ſoon ſeparated us entirely. Since this period I have learned, that her conduct became exceedingly imprudent, or at leaſt ſuſpicious, and that at the general perſecution, finding her republicaniſm would not protect her, ſhe fled to Bourdeaux, with the hope of being able to proceed to Spain. Here, however, being a Spaniard by birth, and the wife of an emigrant, ſhe was arreſted and thrown into priſon, where ſhe remained till the arrival of Tallien on his miſſion.
The miſcellaneous occupations of a deputy-errant, naturally include an introduction to the female priſoners; and Tallien's preſence afforded Mad. de Fontenay an occaſion of pleading her cauſe with all the ſucceſſ which ſuch a pleader might, in other times, be ſuppoſed to obtain from a judge of Tallien's age. The effect of the ſcenes Tallien had been an actor in, was counteracted by youth, and his heart was not yet indifferent to the charms of beauty—Mad. de Fontenay was releaſed by the captivation of her liberator, and a reciprocal attachment enſued.
We muſt not, however, conclude, all this merely a buſineſs of romance. Mad. de Fontenay was rich, and had connexions in Spain, which might hereafter procure an aſylum, when a regicide may with difficulty find one: and on the part of the lady, though Tallien's perſon is agreeable, a deſire of protecting herſelf and her fortune might be allowed to have ſome influence.
From this time the revolutioniſt is ſaid to have given way: Bourdeaux became the Capua of Tallien; and its inhabitants were, perhaps, indebted for a more moderate exerciſe of his power, to the ſmiles of Mad. de Fontenay.—From hanging looſe on ſociety, he had now the proſpect of marrying a wife with a large fortune; and Tallien very wiſely conſidered, that having ſomething at ſtake, a ſort of comparative reputation among the higher claſs of people at Bourdeaux, might be of more importance to him in future, than all the applauſe the Convention could beſtow on a liberal uſe of the Guillotine.—The relaxed ſyſtem which was the conſequence of ſuch policy, ſoon reached the Committee of Public Welfare, to whom it was highly diſpleaſing, and Tallien was recalled.
A youth of the name of Julien, particularly in the confidence of Robeſpierre, was then ſent to Bourdeaux, not officially as his ſucceſſor, but as a ſpy, to collect information concerning him, as well as to watch the operations of other miſſionaries, and prevent their imitating Tallien's ſchemes of perſonal advantage, at the expence of ſcandalizing the republic by an appearance of lenity.—The diſaſtrous ſtate of Lyons, the perſecutions of Carrier, the conflagrations of Maignet, and the crimes of various other Deputies, had obliterated the minor revolutioniſms of Tallien:* The citizens of Bourdeaux ſpoke of him without horror, which in theſe times was equal to eulogium; and Julien tranſmitted ſuch accounts of his conduct to Robeſpierre,** as were equally alarming to the jealouſy of his ſpirit, and repugnant to the cruelty of his principles.
* It was Tallien's boaſt to have guillotined only ariſtocrats, and of this part of his merit I am willing to leave him in poſſeſſion. At Toulon he was charged with the puniſhment of thoſe who had given up the town to the Engliſh; but finding, as he alledged, nearly all the inhabitants involved, he ſelected about two hundred of the richeſt, and that the horrid buſineſs might wear an appearance of regularity, the patriots, that is, the moſt notorious Jacobins, were ordered to give their opinion on the guilt of theſe victims, who were brought out into an open field for that purpoſe. With ſuch judges the ſentence was ſoon paſſed, and a fuſillade took place on the ſpot.—It was on this occaſion that Tallien made particular boaſt of his humanity; and in the ſame publication where he relateſ the circumſtance, he expoſes the "atrocious conduct" of the Engliſh at the ſurrender of Toulon. The cruelty of theſe barbarians not being ſufficiently gratified by diſpatching the patriots the ſhorteſt way, they hung up many of them by their chins on hooks at the ſhambles, and left them to die at their leiſure.—See "Mitraillades, Fuſillades," a recriminating pamphlet, addreſſed by Tallien to Collot d'Herbois.—The title alludes to Collot's exploitſ at Lyons. ** It is not out of the uſual courſe of things that Tallien'ſ moderation at Bourdeaux might have been profitable; and the wife or miſtreſs of a Deputy was, on ſuch occaſions, a uſeful medium, through which the grateful offerings of a rich and favoured ariſtocrat might be conveyed, without committing the legiſlative reputation.—The following paſſage from Julien's correſpondence with Robeſpierre ſeems to allude to ſome little arrangements of thiſ nature: "I think it my duty to tranſmit you an extract from a letter of Tallien's, [Which had been intercepted.] to the National Club.—It coincides with the departure of La Fontenay, whom the Committee of General Safety have doubtleſs had arreſted. I find ſome very curious political details regarding her; and Bourdeaux ſeems to have been, until this moment, a labyrinth of intrigue and peculation."
It appears from Robeſpierre's papers, that not only Tallien, but Legendre, Bourdon de l'Oiſe, Thuriot, and others, were inceſſantly watched by the ſpies of the Committee. The profeſſion muſt have improved wonderfully under the auſpices of the republic, for I doubt if Mons. le Noir's Mouchardſ [The ſpies of the old police, ſo called in deriſion.— Briſſot, in this act of accuſation, is deſcribed as having been an agent of the Police under the monarchy.—I cannot decide on the certainty of this, or whether his occupation was immediately that of a ſpy, but I have reſpectable authority for ſaying, that antecedent to the revolution, hiſ character was very ſlightly eſtimated, and himſelf conſidered as "hanging looſe on ſociety."] were as able as Robeſpierre's.—The reader may judge from the following ſpecimens:
"The 6th inſtant, the deputy Thuriot, on quitting the Convention, went to No. 35, Rue Jaques, ſection of the Pantheon, to the houſe of a pocket-book maker, where he ſtaid talking with a female about ten minutes. He then went to No. 1220, Rue Foſſe St. Bernard, ſection of the Sans-Culottes, and dined there at a quarter paſt two. At a quarter paſt ſeven he left the laſt place, and meeting a citizen on the Quay de l'Ecole, ſection of the Muſeum, near le Cafe Manoury, they went in there together, and drank a bottle of beer. From thence he proceeded to la Maiſon Memblee de la Providence, No. 16, Rue d'Orleans Honore, ſection de la Halle au Bled, whence, after ſtaying about five-and-twenty minutes, he came out with a citoyenne, who had on a puce Levite, a great bordered ſhawl of Japan cotton, and on her head a white handkerchief, made to look like a cap. They went together to No. 163, Place Egalite, where after ſtopping an inſtant, they took a turn in the galleries, and then returned to ſup.—They went in at half paſt nine, and were ſtill there at eleven o'clock, when we came away, not being certain if they would come out again. "Bourdon de l'Oiſe, on entering the Aſſembly, ſhook hands with four or five Deputies. He was obſerved to gape while good news waſ announcing."
Tallien was already popular among the Jacobins of Paris; and hiſ connexion with a beautiful woman, who might enable him to keep a domeſtic eſtabliſhment, and to diſplay any wealth he had acquired, without endangering his reputation, was a circumſtance not to be overlooked; for Robeſpierre well knew the efficacy of female intrigue, and dinners,* in gaining partizans among the ſubordinate members of the Convention.
* Whoever reads attentively, and in detail, the debates of the Convention, will obſerve the influence and envy created by a ſuperior ſtyle of living in any particular member. His dreſs, hiſ lodging, or dinners, are a perpetual ſubject of malignant reproach. —This is not to be wondered at, when we conſider the deſcription of men the Convention is compoſed of;—men who, never having been accuſtomed to the elegancies of life, behold with a grudging eye the gay apparel or luxurious table of a colleague, who arrived at Pariſ with no other treaſure but his patriotiſm, and has no oſtenſible means beyond his eighteen livres a day, now increaſed to thirty-ſix.
Mad. de Fontenay, was, therefore, on her arrival at Paris, whither ſhe had followed Tallien, (probably in order to procure a divorce and marry him,) arreſted, and conveyed to priſon.
An injury of this kind was not to be forgiven; and Robeſpierre ſeems to have acted on the preſumption that it could not. He beſet Tallien with ſpies, menaced him in the Convention, and made Mad. de Fontenay an offer of liberty, if ſhe would produce a ſubſtantial charge againſt him, which he imagined her knowledge of his conduct at Bourdeaux might furniſh her grounds for doing. A refuſal muſt doubtleſs have irritated the tyrant; and Tallien had every reaſon to fear ſhe would ſoon be included in one of the liſts of victims who were daily ſacrificed as conſpirators in the priſons. He was himſelf in continual expectation of being arreſted; and it was generally believed Robeſpierre would ſoon openly accuſe him.—Thuſ ſituated, he eagerly embraced the opportunity which the ſchiſm in the Committee preſented of attacking his adverſary, and we certainly muſt allow him the merit of being the firſt who dared to move for the arreſt of Robeſpierre.—I need not add, that la belle was one of the firſt whoſe priſon doors were opened; and I underſtand that, being divorced from Mons. de Fontenay, ſhe is either married, or on the point of being ſo, to Tallien.
This concluſion ſpoils my ſtory as a moral one; and had I been the diſpoſer of events, the Septembriſer, the regicide, and the cold aſſaſſin of the Toulonais, ſhould have found other rewards than affluence, and a wife who might repreſent one of Mahomet's Houris. Yet, ſurely, "the time will come, though it come ne'er ſo ſlowly," when Heaven ſhall ſeparate guilt from proſperity, and when Tallien and his accomplices ſhall be remembered only as monuments of eternal juſtice. For the lady, her faults are amply puniſhed in the diſgrace of ſuch an alliance—
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"A cut-purſe of the empire and the rule;
"____ a King of ſhreds and patches." |
The thirty members whom Robeſpierre intended to ſacrifice, might perhapſ have formed ſome deſign of reſiſting, but it appears evident that the Convention in general acted without plan, union, or confidence.*—
* The baſe and ſelfiſh timidity of the Convention is ſtrongly evinced by their ſuffering fifty innocent people to be guillotined on the very ninth of Thermidor, for a pretended conſpiracy in the priſon of St. Lazare.—A ſingle word from any member might at thiſ criſis have ſuſpended the execution of the ſentence, but that word no one had the courage or the humanity to utter.
—Tallien and Billaud were rendered deſperate by their ſituation, and it is likely that, when they ventured to attack Robeſpierre, they did not themſelves expect to be ſucceſſful—it was the conſternation of the latter which encouraged them to perſiſt, and the Aſſembly to ſupport them:
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"There is a tide in the affairs of men,
"Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." |
And to have been lucky enough to ſeize on this criſis, is, doubtleſs, the whole merit of the convention. There has, it is true, been many alluſions to the dagger of Brutus, and ſeveral Deputies are ſaid to have conceived very heroic projects for the deſtruction of the tyrant; but aſ he was dead before theſe projects were brought to light, we cannot juſtly aſcribe any effect to them.
The remains of the Briſſotin faction, ſtill at liberty, from whom ſome exertions might have been expected, were cautiouſly inactive; and thoſe who had been moſt in the habit of appreciating themſelves for their valour, were now conſpicuous only for that diſcretion which Falſtaff calls the better part of it.—Dubois Crance, who had been at the expence of buying a Spaniſh poniard at St. Malo, for the purpoſe of aſſaſſinating Robeſpierre, ſeems to have been calmed by the journey, and to have finally recovered his temper, before he reached the Convention.—Merlin de Thionville, Merlin de Douay, and others of equal note, were among the "paſſive valiant;" and Bourdon de l'Oiſe had already experienced ſuch diſaſtrous effects from inconſiderate exhibitions of courage, that he now reſtrained his ardour till the victory ſhould be determined. Even Legendre, who is occaſionally the Brutus, the Curtius, and all the patriots whoſe names he has been able to learn, confined his proweſs to an aſſault on the club-room of the Jacobins, when it was empty, and carrying off the key, which no one diſputed with him, ſo that he can at moſt claim an ovation. It is, in ſhort, remarkable, that all the memberſ who at preſent affect to be moſt vehement againſt Robeſpierre'ſ principles, [And where was the all-politic Sieyes?—At home, writing hiſ own eulogium.] were the leaſt active in attacking his perſon; and it iſ indiſputable, that to Tallien, Billaud, Louchet, Elie Lacoſte, Collot d'Herbois, and a few of the more violent Jacobins, were due thoſe firſt efforts which determined his fall.—Had Robeſpierre, inſtead of a querelous harangue, addreſſed the convention in his uſual tone of authority, and ended by moving for a decree againſt a few only of thoſe obnoxious to him, the reſt might have been glad to compound for their own ſafety, by abandoning a cauſe no longer perſonal: but his impolicy, not his wickedneſs, haſtened his fate; and it is ſo far fortunate for France, that it has at leaſt ſuſpended the ſyſtem of government which is aſcribed to him.
The firſt days of victory were paſſed in receiving congratulations, and taking precautions; and though men do not often adapt their claims to their merits, yet the members of the Convention ſeemed in general to be conſcious that none amongſt them had very decided pretenſions to the ſpoils of the vanquiſhed.—Of twelve, which originally compoſed the Committee of Public Welfare, ſeven only remained; yet no one ventured to ſuggeſt a completion of the number, till Barrere, after previouſly inſinuating how adequate he and his colleagues were to the taſk of "ſaving the country," propoſed, in his flippant way, and merely as a matter of form, that certain perſons whom he recommended, ſhould fill up the vacancies in the government.
This modeſt Carmagnole* was received with great coolneſs; the late implicit acquieſcence was changed to demur, and an adjournment unanimouſly called for.
* A ludicrous appellation, which Barrere uſed to give to his reportſ in the preſence of thoſe who were in the ſecret of his Charlatanry. The air of "La Carmagnole" was originally compoſed when the town of that name was taken by Prince Eugene, and was adapted to the indecent words now ſung by the French after the 10th of Auguſt 1792.
—Such unuſual temerity ſuſpriſed and alarmed the remains of the Committee, and Billaud Varennes ſternly reminded the Convention of the abject ſtate they were ſo lately releaſed from. This produced retort and replication, and the partners of Robeſpierre's enormities, who had hoped to be the tranquil inheritors of his power, found, that in deſtroying a rival, they had raiſed themſelves maſters.
The Aſſembly perſiſted in not adopting the members offered to be impoſed upon them; but, as it was eaſier to reject than to chooſe, the Committee were ordered to preſent a new plan for this part of the executive branch, and the election of thoſe to be entruſted with it was poſtponed for farther conſideration.
Having now felt their ſtrength, they next proceeded to renew a part of the committee of General Safety, ſeveral of its members being inculpated as partizans of Robeſpierre, and though this Committee had become entirely ſubordinate to that of Public Welfare, yet its functions were too important for it to be neglected, more eſpecially as they compriſed a very favourite branch of the republican government, that of iſſuing writſ of arreſt at pleaſure.—The law of the twenty-ſecond of Prairial is alſo repealed, but the Revolutionary Tribunal is preſerved, and the neceſſity of ſuſpending the old jury, as being the creatures of Robeſpierre, haſ not prevented the tender ſolicitude of the Convention for a renovated activity in the eſtabliſhment itſelf.
This aſſumption of power has become every day more confirmed, and the addreſſes which are received by the Aſſembly, though yet in a ſtrain of groſs adulation,* expreſs ſuch an abhorrence of the late ſyſtem, as muſt ſuffice to convince them the people are not diſpoſed to ſee ſuch a ſyſtem continued.
* A collection of addreſſes, preſented to the Convention at variouſ periods, might form a curious hiſtory of the progreſs of deſpotiſm. Theſe effuſions of zeal were not, however, all in the "ſublime" ſtyle: the legiſlative dignity ſometimes condeſcended to unbend itſelf, and liſten to metrical compoſitions, enlivened by the accompaniment of fiddles; but the manly and ferocious Danton, to whom ſuch ſprightly interruptions were not congenial, propoſed a decree, that the citizens ſhould, in future, expreſs their adorations in plain proſe, and without any muſical acceſſories.
Billaud Varennes, Collot, and other members of the old Committee, view theſe innovations with ſullen acquieſcence; but Barrere, whoſe frivolouſ and facile ſpirit is incapable of conſiſtency, even in wickedneſs, perſeveres and flouriſhes at the tribune as gaily as ever.—Unabaſhed by detection, inſenſible to contempt, he details his epigrams and antitheſeſ againſt Catilines and Cromwells with as much ſelf-ſufficiency as when, in the ſame tinſel eloquence, he promulgated the murderous edicts of Robeſpierre.
Many of the priſoners at Paris continue daily to obtain their releaſe, and, by the exertions of his perſonal enemies, particularly of our quondam ſovereign, Andre Dumont, (now a member of the Committee of General Safety,) an examination into the atrocities committed by Le Bon is decreed.—But, amidſt theſe appearances of juſtice, a verſatility of principle, or rather an evident tendency to the decried ſyſtem, iſ perceptible. Upon the ſlighteſt alluſion to the revolutionary government, the whole Convention riſe in a maſs to vociferate their adherence to it:* the tribunal, which was its offſpring and ſupport, iſ anxiouſly reinſtalled; and the low inſolence with which Barrere announceſ their victories in the Netherlands, is, as uſual, loudly applauded.
* The moſt moderate, as well as the moſt violent, were always united on the ſubject of this irrational tyranny.—"Toujours en menageant, comme la prunelle de ſes yeux, le gouvernement revolutionnaire."— "Careful always of the revolutionary government, as of the apple of their eye." Fragment pour ſervir a l'Hiſt. de la Convention, par J. J. Duſſault.
The brothers of Cecile Renaud, who were ſent for by Robeſpierre from the army to Paris, in order to follow her to the ſcaffold, did not arrive until their perſecutor was no more, and a change of government waſ avowed. They have preſented themſelves at the bar of the Convention, to entreat a reviſal of their father's ſentence, and ſome compenſation for his property, ſo unjuſtly confiſcated.—You will, perhaps, imagine, that, at the name of theſe unfortunate young men, every heart anticipated a conſent to their claims, even before the mind could examine the juſtice of them, and that one of thoſe burſts of ſenſibility for which thiſ legiſlature is ſo remarkable inſtantaneouſly accorded the petition. Alaſ! this was not an occaſion to excite the enthuſiaſm of the Convention: Coupilleau de Fontenay, one of the "mild and moderate party", repulſed the petitioners with harſhneſs, and their claim was ſilenced by a call for the order of the day. The poor Renauds were afterwards coldly referred to the Committee of Relief, for a pittance, by way of charity, inſtead of the property they have a right to, and which they have been deprived of, by the baſe compliance of the Convention with the caprice of a monſter.
Such relapſes and aberrations are not conſolatory, but the times and circumſtances ſeem to oppoſe them—the whole fabric of deſpotiſm iſ ſhaken, and we have reaſon to hope the efforts of tyranny will be counteracted by its weakneſs.
We do not yet derive any advantage from the early maturity of the harveſt, and it is ſtill with difficulty we obtain a limited portion of bad bread. Severe decrees are enacted to defeat the avarice of the farmers, and prevent monopolies of the new corn; but theſe people are invulnerable: they have already been at iſſue with the ſyſtem of terror— and it was found neceſſary, even before the death of Robeſpierre, to releaſe them from priſon, or riſk the deſtruction of the harveſt for want of hands to get it in. It is now diſcovered, that natural cauſes, and the ſelfiſhneſs of individuals, are adequate to the creation of a temporary ſcarcity; yet when this happened under the King, it was alwayſ aſcribed to the machinations of government.—How have the people been deceived, irritated, and driven to rebellion, by a degree of want, leſs, much leſs, inſupportable than that they are obliged to ſuffer at preſent, without daring even to complain!
I have now been in confinement almoſt twelve months, and my health iſ conſiderably impaired. The weather is oppreſſively warm, and we have no ſhade in the garden but under a mulberry-tree, which is ſo ſurrounded by filth, that it is not approachable. I am, however, told, that in a few days, on account of my indiſpoſition, I ſhall be permitted to go home, though with a proviſo of being guarded at my own expence.—My friends are ſtill at Arras; and if this indulgence be extended to Mad. de la F____, ſhe will accompany me. Perſonal accommodation, and an opportunity of reſtoring my health, render this deſirable; but I aſſociate no idea of freedom with my reſidence in this country. The boundary may be extended, but it is ſtill a priſon.—Yours.
To-morrow I expect to quit this place, and have been wandering over it for the laſt time. You will imagine I can have no attachment to it: yet a retroſpect of my ſenſations when I firſt arrived, of all I have experienced, and ſtill more of what I have apprehended ſince that period, makes me look forward to my departure with a ſatiſfaction that I might almoſt call melancholy. This cell, where I have ſhivered through the winter—the long paſſages, which I have ſo often traverſed in bitter rumination—the garden, where I have painfully breathed a purer air, at the riſk of ſinking beneath the fervid rays of an unmitigated ſun, are not ſcenes to excite regret; but when I think that I am ſtill ſubject to the tyranny which has ſo long condemned me to them, this reflection, with a ſentiment perhaps of national pride, which is wounded by accepting as a favour what I have been unjuſtly deprived of, renders me compoſed, if not indifferent, at the proſpect of my releaſe.
This dreary epoch of my life has not been without its alleviations. I have found a chearful companion in Mad. de M____, who, at ſixty, waſ brought here, becauſe ſhe happened to be the daughter of Count L____, who has been dead theſe thirty yearſ!—The graces and ſilver accents of Madame de B____, might have aſſiſted in beguiling ſeverer captivity; and the Counteſs de C____, and her charming daughters (the eldeſt of whom iſ not to be deſcribed in the common place of panegyric), who, though they have borne their own afflictions with dignity, have been ſenſible to the miſfortunes of others, and whom I muſt, in juſtice, except from all the imputations of meanneſs or levity, which I have ſometimes had occaſion to notice in thoſe who, like themſelves, were objects of republican perſecution, have eſſentially contributed to diminiſh the horrors of confinement.—I reckon it likewiſe among my ſatiſfactions, that, with the exception of the Marechalle de Biron,* and General O'Moran, none of our fellow-priſoners have ſuffered on the ſcaffold.—
* The Marechalle de Biron, a very old and infirm woman, was taken from hence to the Luxembourg at Paris, where her daughter-in-law, the Ducheſs, was alſo confined. A cart arriving at that priſon to convey a number of victims to the tribunal, the liſt, in the coarſe dialect of republicaniſm, contained the name of la femme Biron. "But there are two of them," ſaid the keeper. "Then bring them both."— The aged Marechalle, who was at ſupper, finiſhed her meal while the reſt were preparing, then took up her book of devotion, and departed chearfully.—The next day both mother and daughter were guillotined.
—Dumont has, indeed, virtually occaſioned the death of ſeveral; in particular the Duc du Chatelet, the Comte de Bethune, Mons. de Mancheville, &c.—and it is no merit in him that Mr. Luttrell, with a poor nun of the name of Pitt,* whom he took from hence to Paris, as a capture which might give him importance, were not maſſacred either by the mob or the tribunal.
* This poor woman, whoſe intellects, as I am informed, appeared in a ſtate of derangement, was taken from a convent at Abbeville, and brought to the Providence, as a relation of Mr. Pitt, though I believe ſhe has no pretenſions to that honour. But the name of Pitt gave her importance; ſhe was ſent to Paris under a military eſcort, and Dumont announced the arrival of this miſerable victim with all the airs of a conqueror. I have been ſince told, ſhe was lodged at St. Pelagie, where ſhe ſuffered innumerable hardſhips, and did not recover her liberty for many months after the fall of Robeſpierre.
—If the perſecution of this department has not been ſanguinary,* it ſhould be remembered, that it has been covered with priſons; and that the extreme ſubmiſſion of its inhabitants would ſcarcely have furniſhed the moſt mercileſs tyrant with a pretext for a ſeverer regimen.—
* There were ſome prieſts guillotined at Amiens, but the circumſtance was concealed from me for ſome months after it happened.
—Dumont, I know, expects to eſtabliſh a reputation by not having guillotined as an amuſement, and hopes that he may here find a retreat when his revolutionary labours ſhall be finiſhed.
The Convention have not yet choſen the members who are to form the new Committee. They were yeſterday ſolemnly employed in receiving the American Ambaſſador; likewiſe a braſs medal of the tyrant Louis the Fourteenth, and ſome marvellous information about the unfortunate Princeſſ' having dreſſed herſelf in mourning at the death of Robeſpierre. Theſe legiſlators remind me of one of Swift's female attendants, who, in ſpite of the literary taſte he endeavoured to inſpire her with, never could be diveſted of her original houſewifely propenſities, but would quit the moſt curious anecdote, as he expreſſes it, "to go ſeek an old rag in a cloſet." Their projects for the revival of their navy ſeldom go farther than a tranſpoſal in the ſtripes of the flag, and their vengeance againſt regal anthropophagi, and proud iſlanders, is infallibly diverted by a denunciation of an ariſtocratic quartrain, or ſome new mode, whoſe general adoption renders it ſuſpected as the badge of a party.—If, according to Cardinal de Retz' opinion, elaborate attention to trifleſ denote a little mind, theſe are true Lilliputian ſages.—Yours, &c.
I did not leave the Providence until ſome days after the date of my laſt: there were ſo many precautions to be taken, and ſo many formalities to be obſerved—ſuch references from the municipality to the diſtrict, and from the diſtrict to the Revolutionary Committee, that it is evident Robeſpierre's death has not baniſhed the uſual apprehenſion of danger from the minds of thoſe who became reſponſible for acts of juſtice or humanity. At length, after procuring a houſe-keeper to anſwer with hiſ life and property for our re-appearance, and for our attempting nothing againſt the "unity and indiviſibility" of the republic, we bade (I hope) a long adieu to our priſon.
Madame de ____ is to remain with me till her houſe can be repaired; for it has been in requiſition ſo often, that there is now, we are told, ſcarcely a bed left, or a room habitable. We have an old man placed with us by way of a guard, but he is civil, and is not intended to be a reſtraint upon us. In fact, he has a ſon, a member of the Jacobin club, and this opportunity is taken to compliment him, by taxing us with the maintenance of his father. It does not prevent us from ſeeing our acquaintance, and we might, I ſuppoſe, go out, though we have not yet ventured.
The politics of the Convention are fluctuating and verſatile, as will ever be the caſe where men are impelled by neceſſity to act in oppoſition to their principles. In their eagerneſs to attribute all the paſt exceſſes to Robeſpierre, they have, unawares, involved themſelves in the obligation of not continuing the ſame ſyſtem. They doubtleſs expected, by the fall of the tyrant, to become his ſucceſſors; but the people, weary of being dupes, and of hearing that tyrants were fallen, without feeling any diminution of tyranny, have every where manifeſted a temper, which the Convention, in the preſent relaxed ſtate of its power, iſ fearful of making experiments upon. Hence, great numbers of priſonerſ are liberated, thoſe that remain are treated more indulgently, and the fury of revolutionary deſpotiſm is in general abated.
The Deputies who moſt readily aſſent to theſe changes have aſſumed the appellation of Moderates; (Heaven knows how much they are indebted to compariſon;) and the popularity they have acquired has both offended and alarmed the more inflexible Jacobins. A motion has juſt been made by one Louchet, that a liſt of all perſons lately enlarged ſhould be printed, with the names of thoſe Deputies who ſolicited in their favour, annexed; and that ſuch ariſtocrats as were thus diſcovered to have regained their liberty, ſhould be re-impriſoned.—The decree paſſed, but was ſo ill received by the people, that it was judged prudent to repeal it the next day.
This circumſtance ſeems to be the ſignal of diſſention between the Aſſembly and the Club: the former, apprehenſive of revolting the public opinion on the one hand, and deſirous of conciliating the Jacobins on the other, waver between indulgence and ſeverity; but it is eaſy to diſcover, that their variance with the Jacobins is more a matter of expediency than principle, and that, were it not for other conſiderations, they would not ſuffer the impriſonment of a few thouſand harmleſs people to interrupt the amity which has ſo long ſubſiſted between themſelves and their ancient allies.—It is written, "from their works you ſhall know them;" and reaſoning from this tenet, which is our beſt authority, (for who can boaſt a ſcience in the human heart?) I am juſtified in my opinion, and I know it to be that of many perſons more competent to decide than myſelf. If I could have had doubts on the ſubject, the occurrences of the laſt few days would have amply ſatiſfied them.
However rejoiced the nation at large might be at the overthrow of Robeſpierre, no one was deceived as to the motives which actuated hiſ colleagues in the Committee. Every day produced new indications not only of their general concurrence in the enormities of the government, but of their own perſonal guilt. The Convention, though it could not be inſenſible of this, was willing, with a complaiſant prudence, to avoid the ſcandal of a public diſcuſſion, which muſt irritate the Jacobins, and expoſe its own weakneſs by a retroſpect of the crimes it had applauded and ſupported. Laurent Lecointre,* alone, and apparently unconnected with party, has had the courage to exhibit an accuſation againſt Billaud, Collot, Barrere, and thoſe of Robeſpierre's accomplices who were memberſ of the Committee of General Safety. He gave notice of his deſign on the eleventh of Fructidor (28th of Auguſt).
* Lecointre is a linen-draper at Verſailles, an original revolutioniſt, and I believe of more decent character than moſt included in that deſcription. If we could be perſuaded that there were any real fanatics in the Convention, I ſhould give Lecointre the credit of being among the number. He ſeems, at leaſt, to have ſome material circumſtances in his favour—ſuch as poſſeſſing the means of living; of not having, in appearance, enriched himſelf by the revolution; and, of being the only member who, after a ſcore of decrees to that purpoſe, has ventured to produce an account of hiſ fortune to the public.
—It was received everywhere but in the Convention with applauſe; and the public was flattered with the hope that juſtice would attain another faction of its oppreſſors. On the ſucceeding day, Lecointre appeared at the tribune to read his charges. They conveyed, even to the moſt prejudiced mind, an entire conviction, that the members he accuſed were ſole authors of a part, and accomplices in all the crimes which had deſolated their country. Each charge was ſupported by material proof, which he depoſited for the information of his colleagues. But this waſ unneceſſary—his colleagues had no deſire to be convinced; and, after overpowering him with ridicule and inſult, they declared, without entering into any diſcuſſion, that they rejected the charges with indignation, and that the members implicated had uniformly acted according to their [own] wiſhes, and thoſe of the nation.
As ſoon as this reſult was known in Paris, the people became enraged and diſguſted, the public walks reſounded with murmurs, the fermentation grew general, and ſome menaces were uttered of forcing the Convention to give Lecointre a more reſpectful hearing.—Intimidated by ſuch unequivocal proofs of diſapprobation, when the Aſſembly met on the thirteenth, it waſ decreed, after much oppoſition from Tallien, that Lecointre ſhould be allowed to reproduce his charges, and that they ſhould be ſolemnly examined.
After all this, Lecointre, whoſe figure is almoſt ludicrous, and who iſ no orator, was to repeat a voluminous denunciation, amidſt the clamour, abuſe, chicane, and deriſion of the whole Convention. But there are occaſions when the keeneſt ridicule is pointleſs; when the mind, armed by truth and elevated by humanity, rejects its inſidious effortſ—and, abſorbed by more laudable feelings, deſpiſes even the ſmile of contempt. The juſtice of Lecointre's cauſe ſupplied his want of external advantages: and his arguments were ſo clear and ſo unanſwerable, that the plain diction in which they were conveyed was more impreſſive than the moſt finiſhed eloquence; and neither the malice nor ſarcaſms of hiſ enemies had any effect but on thoſe who were intereſted in ſilencing or confounding him. Yet, in proportion as the force of Lecointre'ſ denunciation became evident, the Aſſembly appeared anxious to ſuppreſſ it; and, after ſome hourſ' ſcandalous debate, during which it waſ frequently aſſerted that theſe charges could not be encouraged without criminating the entire legiſlative body, they decreed the whole to be falſe and defamatory.
The accuſed members defended themſelves with the aſſurance of delinquentſ tried by their avowed accomplices, and who are previouſly certain of favour and acquittal; while Lecointre's conduct in the buſineſs ſeems to have been that of a man determined to perſevere in an act of duty, which he has little reaſon to hope will be ſucceſſful.*
* It is ſaid, that, at the concluſion of this diſgraceful buſineſs, the members of the convention crouded about the delinquents with their habitual ſervility, and appeared gratified that their ſerviceſ on the occaſion had given them a claim to notice and familiarity.
Though the galleries of the Convention were more than uſually furniſhed on the day with applauders, yet this deciſion has been univerſally ill received. The time is paſſed when the voice of reaſon could be ſilenced by decrees. The ſtupendous tyranny of the government, though not meliorated in principle, is relaxed in practice; and this vote, far from operating in favour of the culprits, has only ſerved to excite the public indignation, and to render them more odious. Thoſe who cannot judge of the logical preciſion of Lecointre's arguments, or the juſtneſs of hiſ inferences, can feel that his charges are merited. Every heart, every tongue, acknowledges the guilt of thoſe he has attacked. They are certain France has been the prey of numberleſs atrocitieſ—they are certain, that theſe were perpetrated by order of the committee; that eleven members compoſed it; and that Robeſpierre and his aſſociates being but three, did not conſtitute a majority.
Theſe facts are now commented on with as much freedom as can be expected among a people whoſe imaginations are yet haunted by revolutionary tribunals and Baſtilles, and the concluſions are not favourable to the Convention. The national diſcontent is, however, ſuſpended by the hoſtilities between the legiſlature and the Jacobin club: the latter ſtill perſiſts in demanding the revolutionary ſyſtem in its primitive ſeverity, while the former are reſtrained from compliance, not only by the odium it muſt draw on them, but from a certainty that it cannot be ſupported but through the agency of the popular ſocieties, who would thuſ again become their dictators. I believe it is not unlikely that the people and the Convention are both endeavouring to make inſtruments of each other to deſtroy the common enemy; for the little popularity the Convention enjoy is doubtleſs owing to a ſuperior hatred of the Jacobins: and the moderation which the former affect towards the people, is equally influenced by a view of forming a powerful balance againſt theſe obnoxious ſocieties.—While a ſort of neceſſity for this temporizing continues, we ſhall go on very tranquilly, and it is become a mode to ſay the Convention is "adorable."
Tallien, who has been wreſtling with his ill fame for a tranſient popularity, has thought it adviſable to revive the public attention by the farce of Piſiſtratuſ—at leaſt, an attempt to aſſaſſinate him, in which there ſeems to have been more eclat than danger, has given riſe to ſuch an opinion. Bulletins of his health are delivered every day in form to the Convention, and ſome of the provincial clubs have ſent congratulations on his eſcape. But the ſneers of the incredulous, and perhaps an internal admonition of the ridicule and diſgrace attendant on the worſhip of an idol whoſe reputation is ſo unpropitious, have much repreſſed the cuſtomary ardour, and will, I think, prevent theſe "hair-breadth 'ſcapeſ" from continuing faſhionable.—Yours, &c.
When I deſcribe the French as a people bending meekly beneath the moſt abſurd and cruel oppreſſion, tranſmitted from one ſet of tyrants to another, without perſonal ſecurity, without commerce—menaced by famine, and deſolated by a government whoſe ordinary reſources are pillage and murder; you may perhaps read with ſome ſurprize the progreſs and ſucceſſes of their armies. But, diveſt yourſelf of the notions you may have imbibed from intereſted miſrepreſentationſ—forget the revolutionary common-place of "enthuſiamſ", "ſoldiers of freedom," and "defenders of their country"—examine the French armies as acting under the motiveſ which uſually influence ſuch bodies, and I am inclined to believe you will ſee nothing very wonderful or ſupernatural in their victories.
The greater part of the French troops are now compoſed of young men taken indiſcriminately from all claſſes, and forced into the ſervice by the firſt requiſition. They arrive at the army ill-diſpoſed, or at beſt indifferent, for it muſt not be forgotten, that all who could be prevailed on to go voluntarily had departed before recourſe was had to the meaſure of a general levy. They are then diſtributed into different corps, ſo that no local connections remain: the natives of the North are mingled with thoſe of the South, and all provincial combinations are interdicted.
It is well known that the military branch of eſpionage is as extended aſ the civil, and the certainty of this deſtroys confidence, and leaves even the unwilling ſoldier no reſource but to go through his profeſſional duty with as much zeal as though it were his choice. On the one hand, the diſcipline is ſevere—on the other, licentiouſneſs is permitted beyond all example; and, half-terrified, half-ſeduced, principles the moſt inimical, and morals the leaſt corrupt, become habituated to fear nothing but the government, and to reliſh a life of military indulgence.—The armies were ſome time ſince ill clothed, and often ill fed; but the requiſitions, which are the ſcourge of the country, ſupply them, for the moment, with profuſion: the manufacturers, the ſhops, and the private individual, are robbed to keep them in good humour—the beſt wines, the beſt clothes, the prime of every thing, is deſtined to their uſe; and men, who before laboured hard to procure a ſcanty ſubſiſtence, now revel in luxury and comparative idleneſs.
The rapid promotion acquired in the French army is likewiſe another cauſe of its adherence to the government. Every one is eager to be advanced; for, by means of requiſitions, pillage and perquiſites, the moſt trifling command is very lucrative.—Vaſt ſums of money are expended in ſupplying the camps with newſpapers written nearly for that purpoſe, and no otherſ are permitted to be publicly circulated.—When troops are quartered in a town, inſtead of that cold reception which it is uſual to accord ſuch inmates, the ſyſtem of terror acts as an excellent Marechal de Logis, and procures them, if not a cordial, at leaſt a ſubſtantial one; and it iſ indubitable, that they are no where ſo well entertained as at the houſeſ of profeſſed ariſtocrats. The officers and men live in a familiarity highly gratifying to the latter; and, indeed, neither are diſtinguiſhable by their language, manners, or appearance. There is, properly ſpeaking, no ſubordination except in the field, and a ſoldier has only to avoid politics, and cry "Vive la Convention!" to ſecure plenary indulgence on all other occaſions.—Many who entered the army with regret, continue there willingly for the ſake of a maintenance; beſides that a decree exiſts, which ſubjects the parents of thoſe who return, to heavy puniſhments. In a word, whatever can operate on the fears, or intereſts, or paſſions, is employed to preſerve the allegiance of the armies to the government, and attach them to their profeſſion.
I am far from intending to detract from the national bravery—the annalſ of the French Monarchy abound with the moſt ſplendid inſtances of it—I only wiſh you to underſtand, what I am fully convinced of myſelf, that liberty and republicaniſm have no ſhare in the preſent ſucceſſes. The battle of Gemappe was gained when the Briſſotin faction had enthroned itſelf on the ruins of a conſtitution, which the armies were ſaid to adore with enthuſiaſm: by what ſudden inſpiration were their affectionſ tranſferred to another form of government? or will any one pretend that they really underſtood the democratic Machiaveliſm which they were to propagate in Brabant? At the battle of Maubeuge, France was in the firſt paroxyſm of revolutionary terror—at that of Fleurus, ſhe had become a ſcene of carnage and proſcription, at once the moſt wretched and the moſt deteſtable of nations, the ſport and the prey of deſpots ſo contemptible, that neither the exceſs of their crimes, nor the ſufferings they inflicted, could efface the ridicule which was incurred by a ſubmiſſion to them. Were the French then fighting for liberty, or did they only move on profeſſionally, with the enemy in front, the Guillotine in the rear, and the intermediate ſpace filled up with the licentiouſneſs of a camp?—If the name alone of liberty ſuffices to animate the French troopſ to conqueſt, and they could imagine it was enjoyed under Briſſot or Robeſpierre, this is at leaſt a proof that they are rather amateurs than connoiſſeurs; and I ſee no reaſon why the ſame impulſe might not be given to an army of Janizaries, or the the legions of Tippoo Saib.
After all, it may be permitted to doubt, whether the ſort of enthuſiaſm ſo liberally aſcribed to the French, would really contribute more to their ſucceſſes, than the thoughtleſs courage I am willing to allow them.—It is, I believe, the opinion of military men, that the beſt ſoldiers are thoſe who are moſt diſpoſed to act mechanically; and we are certain that the moſt brilliant victories have been obtained where thiſ ardour, ſaid to be produced by the new doctrines, could have had no influence.—The heroes of Pavia, of Narva, or thoſe who adminiſtered to the vain-glory of Louis the Fourteenth, by ravaging the Palatinate, we may ſuppoſe little acquainted with it. The fate of battles frequently depends on cauſes which the General, the Stateſman, or the Philoſopher, are equally unable to decide upon; and the laurel, "meed of mighty conquerors," ſeems oftener to fall at the caprice of the wind, than to be gathered. It is ſometimes the lot of the ableſt tactician, at others of the moſt voluminous muſter-roll; but, I believe, there are few exampleſ where theſe political elevations have had an effect, when unaccompanied by advantages of ſituation, ſuperior ſkill, or ſuperior numbers.—"La plupart des gens de guerre (ſays Fontenelle) ſont leur metier avec beaucoup de courage. Il en eſt peu qui y penſent; leurs bras agiſſent auſſi vigoureuſement que l'on veut, leurs tetes ſe repoſent, et ne prennent preſque part a rieu"*—
* "Military men in general do their duty with much courage, but few make it a ſubject of reflection. With all the bodily activity that can be expected of them, their minds remain at reſt, and partake but little of the buſineſs they are engaged in."
—If this can be applied with truth to any armies, it muſt be to thoſe of France. We have ſeen them ſucceſſively and implicitly adopting all the new conſtitutions and ſtrange gods which faction and extravagance could deviſe—we have ſeen them alternately the dupes and ſlaves of all parties: at one period abandoning their King and their religion: at another adulating Robeſpierre, and deifying Marat.—Theſe, I confeſs are diſpoſitions to make good ſoldiers, but convey to me no idea of enthuſiaſts or republicans.
The bulletin of the Convention is periodically furniſhed with ſplendid feats of heroiſm performed by individuals of their armies, and I have no doubt but ſome of them are true. There are, however, many which have been very peaceably culled from old memoirs, and that ſo unſkilfully, that the hero of the preſent year loſes a leg or an arm in the ſame exploit, and uttering the ſelf-ſame ſentences, as one who lived two centuries ago. There is likewiſe a ſort of jobbing in the edifying ſcenes which occaſionally occur in the Convention—if a ſoldier happen to be wounded who has relationſhip, acquaintance, or connexion, with a Deputy, a tale of extraordinary valour and extraordinary devotion to the cauſe is invented or adopted; the invalid is preſented in form at the bar of the Aſſembly, receives the fraternal embrace and the promiſe of a penſion, and the feats of the hero, along with the munificence of the Convention, are ordered to circulate in the next bulletin. Yet many of the deeds recorded very deſervedly in theſe annals of glory, have been performed by men who abhor republican principles, and lament the diſaſters their partizans have occaſioned. I have known even notoriouſ ariſtocrats introduced to the Convention as martyrs to liberty, and who have, in fact, behaved as gallantly as though they had been ſo.—Theſe are paradoxes which a military man may eaſily reconcile.
Independently of the various ſecondary cauſes that contribute to the ſucceſs of the French armies, there is one which thoſe perſons who wiſh to exalt every thing they denominate republican ſeem to exclude—I mean, the immenſe advantage they poſſeſs in point of numbers. There haſ ſcarcely been an engagement of importance, in which the French have not profited by this in a very extraordinary degree.*
* This has been confeſſed to me by many republicans themſelves; and a diſproportion of two or three to one muſt add conſiderably to republican enthuſiaſm.
—Whenever a point is to be gained, the ſacrifice of men is not a matter of heſitation. One body is diſpatched after another; and freſh troopſ thus ſucceeding to oppoſe thoſe of the enemy already haraſſed, we muſt not wonder that the event has ſo often proved favourable to them.
A republican, who paſſes for highly informed, once defended this mode of warfare by obſerving, that in the courſe of ſeveral campaigns more troopſ periſhed by ſickneſs than the ſword. If then an object could be attained by ſuch means, ſo much time was ſaved, and the loſs eventually the ſame: but the Generals of other countries dare not riſk ſuch philoſophical calculations, and would be accountable to the laws of humanity for their deſtructive conqueſts.
When you eſtimate the numbers that compoſe the French armies, you are not to conſider them as an undiſciplined multitude, whoſe ſole force is in their numbers. From the beginning of the revolution, many of them have been exerciſed in the National Guard; and though they might not make a figure on the parade at Potſdam, their inferiority is not ſo great as to render the German exactitude a counterbalance for the ſubſtantial inequality of numbers. Yet, powerfully as theſe conſiderations favour the military triumphs of France, there is a period when we may expect both cauſe and effect will terminate. That period may ſtill be far removed, but whenever the aſſignatſ* become totally diſcredited, and it ſhall be found requiſite to economize in the war department, adieu la gloire, a bas les armes, and perhaps bon ſoir la republique; for I do not reckon it poſſible, that armies ſo conſtituted can ever be perſuaded to ſubject themſelves to the reſtraints and privations which muſt be indiſpenſible, as ſoon as the government ceaſes to have the diſpoſal of an unlimited fund.
* The mandats were, in fact, but a continuation of the aſſignats, under another name. The laſt decree for the emiſſion of aſſignats, limited the quantity circulated to forty milliards, which taken at par, is only about ſixteen hundred millions of pounds ſterling!
What I have hitherto written you will underſtand as applicable only to the troops employed on the frontiers. There are ſome of another deſcription, more cheriſhed and not leſs ſerviceable, who act as a ſort of police militant and errant, and defend the republic againſt her internal enemieſ—the republicans. Almoſt every town of importance iſ occaſionally infeſted by theſe ſervile inſtruments of deſpotiſm, who are maintained in inſolent profuſion, to overawe thoſe whom miſery and famine might tempt to revolt. When a government, after impriſoning ſome hundred thouſands of the moſt diſtinguiſhed in every claſs of life, and diſarming all the reſt, is yet obliged to employ ſuch a force for its protection, we may juſtifiably conclude, it does not preſume on the attachment of the people. It is not impoſſible that the agents of different deſcriptions, deſtined to the ſervice of conciliating the interior to republicaniſm, might alone form an army equal to that of the Allies; but this is a taſk, where the numbers employed only ſerve to render it more difficult. They, however, procure ſubmiſſion, if they do not create affection; and the Convention is not delicate.