| Amiens, | Jan. 23, 1795. |
| Amiens, | Jan. 30, 1795. |
| Beauvais, | March 13, 1795. |
| Amiens, | May 9, 1795. |
| Amiens, | May 26, 1795. |
| Paris, | June 3, 1795. |
| Paris, | June 6, 1795. |
| Paris, | June 8, 1795. |
| Paris, | June 15, 1795. |
| Amiens, | June 18, 1795. |
| Havre, | June 22, 1795. |
Nothing proves more that the French republican government was originally founded on principles of deſpotiſm and injuſtice, than the weakneſs and anarchy which ſeem to accompany every deviation from theſe principles. It is ſtrong to deſtroy and weak to protect: becauſe, deriving itſ ſupport from the power of the bad and the ſubmiſſion of the timid, it iſ deſerted or oppoſed by the former when it ceaſes to plunder or oppreſſ— while the fears and habits of the latter ſtill prevail, and render them as unwilling to defend a better ſyſtem as they have been to reſiſt the worſt poſſible.
The reforms that have taken place ſince the death of Robeſpierre, though not ſufficient for the demands of juſtice, are yet enough to relax the ſtrength of the government; and the Jacobins, though excluded from authority, yet influence by the turbulence of their chiefs in the Convention, and the recollection of their paſt tyranny—againſt the return of which the fluctuating politics of the Aſſembly offer no ſecurity. The Committees of Public Welfare and General Safety (whoſe members were intended, according to the original inſtitution, to be removed monthly) were, under Robeſpierre, perpetual; and the union they preſerved in certain points, however unfavourable to liberty, gave a vigour to the government, of which from its conformation it ſhould appear to have been incapable. It is now diſcovered, that an undefined power, not ſubject to the reſtriction of fixed laws, cannot remain long in the ſame hands without producing tyranny. A fourth part of the Members of theſe Committees are, therefore, now changed every month; but thiſ regulation, more advantageous to the Convention than the people, keepſ alive animoſities, ſtimulates ambition, and retains the country in anxiety and ſuſpenſe; for no one can gueſs this month what ſyſtem may be adopted the next—and the admiſſion of two or three new Jacobin memberſ would be ſufficient to excite an univerſal alarm.
We watch theſe renewals with a ſolicitude inconceivable to thoſe who ſtudy politics as they do a new opera, and have nothing to apprehend from the perſonal characters of Miniſters; and our hopes and fears vary according as the members elected are Moderates, Doubtfuls, or decided Mountaineers.*
* For inſtance, Carnot, whoſe talents in the military department obliged the Convention (even if they had not been ſo diſpoſed) to forget his compliances with Robeſpierre, his friendſhip for Barrere and Collot, and his eulogiums on Carrier.
—This mixture of principles, which intrigue, intimidation, or expediency, occaſions in the Committees, is felt daily; and if the languor and verſatility of the government be not more apparent, it iſ that habits of ſubmiſſion ſtill continue, and that the force of terror operates in the branches, though the main ſpring be relaxed. Were armieſ to be raiſed, or means deviſed to pay them now, it could not be done; though, being once put in motion, they continue to act, and the requiſitions ſtill in a certain degree ſupply them.
The Convention, while they have loſt much of their real power, have alſo become more externally contemptible than ever. When they were overawed by the impoſing tone of their Committees, they were tolerably decent; but as this reſtraint has worn off, the ſcandalous tumult of their debateſ increaſes, and they exhibit whatever you can imagine of an aſſemblage of men, moſt of whom are probably unacquainted with thoſe ſalutary formſ which correct the paſſions, and ſoften the intercourſe of poliſhed ſociety. They queſtion each other's veracity with a frankneſs truly democratic, and come fraternally to "Touchſtone's ſeventh remove" at once, without paſſing any of the intermediate progreſſions. It was but lately that one Gaſton advanced with a ſtick in full aſſembly to threſh Legendre; and Cambon and Duhem are ſometimes obliged to be holden by the arms and legs, to prevent their falling on Tallien and Freron. I deſcribed ſcenes of this nature to you at the opening of the Convention; but I aſſure you, the ſilent meditations of the members under Robeſpierre have extremely improved them in that ſpecies of eloquence, which is not ſuſceptible of tranſlation or tranſcription. We may conclude, that theſe licences are inherent to a perfect democracy; for the greater the number of repreſentatives, and the nearer they approach to the maſs of the people, the leſs they will be influenced by ariſtocratic ceremonials. We have, however, no intereſt in diſputing the right of the Convention to uſe violence and laviſh abuſe amongſt themſelves; for, perhaps, theſe ſcenes form the only part of their journals which does not record or applaud ſome real miſchief.
The French, who are obliged to celebrate ſo many aeras of revolution, who have demoliſhed Baſtilles and deſtroyed tyrants, ſeem at this moment to be in a political infancy, ſtruggling againſt deſpotiſm, and emerging from ignorance and barbarity. A perſon unacquainted with the promoterſ and objects of the revolution, might be apt to enquire for what it had been undertaken, or what had been gained by it, when all the manufactured eloquence of Tallien is vainly exerted to obtain ſome limitation of arbitrary impriſonment—when Freron harangues with equal labour and aſ little ſucceſs in behalf of the liberty of the preſs; while Gregoire pleads for freedom of worſhip, Echaſſeriaux for that of commerce, and all the ſections of Paris for that of election.*
* It is to be obſerved, that in theſe orations all the decreeſ paſſed by the Convention for the deſtruction of commerce and religion, are aſcribed to the influence of Mr. Pitt.—"La libertedeſ cultes exiſte en Turquie, elle n'exiſte point en France. Le peuple y eſt prive d'un droit donc on jouit dans les etats deſpotiqueſ memes, ſous les regences de Maroc et d'Algers. Si cet etat de choſes doit perſeverer, ne parlons plus de l'inquiſition, nous en avons perdu le droit, car la liberte des cultes n'eſt que dans leſ decrets, et la perſecution tiraille toute la France. "Cette impreſſion intolerante aurait elle ete (ſuggeree) par le cabinet de St. James?" "In Turkey the liberty of worſhip is admitted, though it does not exiſt in France. Here the people are deprived of a right common to the moſt deſpotic governments, not even excepting thoſe of Algierſ and Morocco.—If things are to continue in this ſtate, let us ſay no more about the Inquiſition, we have no right, for religious liberty is to be found only in our decrees, while, in truth, the whole country is expoſed to perſecution. "May not theſe intolerant notions have been ſuggeſted by the Cabinet of St. James?" Gregoire's Report on the Liberty of Worſhip.
—Thus, after ſo many years of ſuffering, and ſuch a waſte of whatever iſ moſt valuable, the civil, religious, and political privileges of thiſ country depend on a vote of the Convention.
The ſpeech of Gregoire, which tended to reſtore the Catholic worſhip, waſ very ill received by his colleagues, but every where elſe it is read with avidity and applauſe; for, excluſive of its merit as a compoſition, the ſubject is of general intereſt, and there are few who do not wiſh to have the preſent puerile imitations of Paganiſm replaced by Chriſtianity. The Aſſembly liſtened to this tolerating oration with impatience, paſſed to the order of the day, and called loudly for Decades, with celebrations in honour of "the liberty of the world, poſterity, ſtoiciſm, the republic, and the hatred of tyrantſ!" But the people, who underſtand nothing of this new worſhip, languiſh after the ſaints of their anceſtors, and think St. Francois d'Aſſiſe, or St. Francois de Sales, at leaſt as likely to afford them ſpiritual conſolation, as Carmagnoles, political homilies, or paſteboard goddeſſes of liberty.
The failure of Gregoire is far from operating as a diſcouragement to thiſ mode of thinking; for ſuch has been the intolerance of the laſt year, that his having even ventured to ſuggeſt a declaration in favour of free worſhip, is deemed a ſort of triumph to the pious which has revived their hopes. Nothing is talked of but the reſtoration of churches, and reinſtalment of prieſtſ—the ſhops are already open on the Decade, and the decrees of the Convention, which make a principal part of the republican ſervice, are now read only to a few idle children or bare walls. [When the bell toll'd on the Decade, the people uſed to ſay it waſ for La meſſe du Diable—The Devil's maſs.]—My maid told me this morning, as a ſecret of too much importance for her to retain, that ſhe had the promiſe of being introduced to a good prieſt, (un bon pretre, for ſo the people entitle thoſe who have never conformed,) to receive her confeſſion at Eaſter; and the fetes of the new calendar are now jeſted on publicly with very little reverence.
The Convention have very lately decreed themſelves an increaſe of pay, from eighteen to thirty-ſix livres. This, according to the comparative value of aſſignats, is very trifling: but the people, who have ſo long been flattered with the ideas of partition and equality, and are now ſtarving, conſider it as a great deal, and much diſcontent is excited, which however evaporates, as uſual, in the national talent for bon mots. The augmentation, though an object of popular jealouſy, is moſt likely valued by the leading members only as it procures them an oſtenſible means of living; for all who have been on miſſions, or had any ſhare in the government, have, like Falſtaff, "hid their honour in their neceſſities," and have now reſources they deſire to profit by, but cannot decently avow.
The Jacobin party have in general oppoſed this additional eighteen livres, with the hope of caſting an odium on their adverſaries; but the people, though they murmur, ſtill prefer the Moderates, even at the expence of paying the difference. The policy of ſome Deputies who have acquired too much, or the malice of others who have acquired nothing, haſ frequently propoſed, that every member of the Convention ſhould publiſh an account of his fortune before and ſince the revolution. An enthuſiaſtic and acclamatory decree of aſſent has always inſued; but ſomehow prudence has hitherto cooled this warmth before the ſubſequent debate, and the reſolution has never yet been carried into effect.
The crimes of Maignet, though they appear to occaſion but little regret in his colleagues, have been the ſource of conſiderable embarraſſment to them. When he was on miſſion in the department of Vaucluſe, beſideſ numberleſs other enormities, he cauſed the whole town of Bedouin to be burnt, a part of its inhabitants to be guillotined, and the reſt diſperſed, becauſe the tree of liberty was cut down one dark night, while they were aſleep.*
* Maignet's order for the burning of Bedouin begins thus: "Liberte, egalite, au nom du peuple Francaiſ!" He then ſtates the offence of the inhabitants in ſuffering the tree of liberty to be cut down, inſtitutes a commiſſion for trying them, and proceedſ—"It is hereby ordered, that as ſoon as the principal criminals are executed, the national agent ſhall notify to the remaining inhabitants not confined, that they are enjoined to evacuate their dwellings, and take out their effects in twenty-four hours; at the expiration of which he is to commit the town to the flames, and leave no veſtige of a building ſtanding. Farther, it is forbidden to erect any building on the ſpot in future, or to cultivate the ſoil." "Done at Avignon, the 17th Floreal." The decree of the Convention to the ſame effect paſſed about the 1ſt of Floreal. Merlin de Douai, (Miniſter of Juſtice in 1796,) Legendre, and Bourdon de l'Oiſe, were the zealous defenders of Maignet on this occaſion.
—Since the Aſſembly have thought it expedient to diſavow theſe revolutionary meaſures, the conduct of Maignet has been denounced, and the accuſations againſt him ſent to a commiſſion to be examined. For a long time no report was made, till the impatience of Rovere, who iſ Maignet's perſonal enemy, rendered a publication of the reſult diſpenſable. They declared they found no room for cenſure or farther proceedings. This deciſion was at firſt ſtrongly reprobated by the Moderates; but as it was proved, in the courſe of the debate, that Maignet was authorized, by an expreſs decree of the Convention, to burn Bedouin, and guillotine its inhabitants, all parties ſoon agreed to conſign the whole to oblivion.
Our clothes, &c. are at length entirely releaſed from ſequeſtration, and the ſeals taken off. We are indebted for this act of juſtice to the intrigues of Tallien, whoſe belle Eſpagnole is conſiderably intereſted. Tallien's good fortune is ſo much envied, that ſome of the members were little enough to move, that the property of the Spaniſh Bank of St. Charles (in which Madame T——'s is included) ſhould be excepted from the decree in favour of foreigners. The Convention were weak enough to accede; but the exception will, doubtleſs, be over-ruled.
The weather is ſevere beyond what it has been in my remembrance. The thermometer was this morning at fourteen and a half. It is, beſides, potentially cold, and every particle of air is like a dart.—I ſuppoſe you contrive to keep yourſelves warm in England, though it is not poſſible to do ſo here. The houſes are neither furniſhed nor put together for the climate, and we are fanned by theſe congealing winds, aſ though the apertures which admit them were deſigned to alleviate the ardours of an Italian ſun.
The ſatin hangings of my room, framed on canvas, wave with the galeſ lodged behind them every ſecond. A pair of "ſilver cupids, nicely poiſed on their brands," ſupport a wood fire, which it is an occupation to keep from extinguiſhing; and all the illuſion of a gay orange-grove pourtrayed on the tapeſtry at my feet, is diſſipated by a villainous chaſm of about half an inch between the floor and the ſkirting-boards. Then we have ſo many correſponding windows, ſupernumerary doors, "and paſſages that lead to nothing," that all our Engliſh ingenuity in comfortable arrangement iſ baffled.—When the cold firſt became ſo inſupportable, we attempted to live entirely in the eating-room, which is warmed by a poele, or German ſtove, but the kind of heat it emits is ſo depreſſive and relaxing to thoſe who are not inured to it, that we are again returned to our large chimney and wood-fire.—The French depend more on the warmth of their clothing, than the comfort of their houſes. They are all wadded and furred as though they were going on a ſledge party, and the men, in thiſ reſpect, are more delicate than the ladies: but whether it be the conſequence of theſe precautions, or from any other cauſe, I obſerve they are, in general, without excepting even the natives of the Southern provinces, leſs ſenſible of cold than the Engliſh.
Delacroix, author of "Les Conſtitutions Politiques de l'Europe," [The Political Conſtitutions of Europe.] has lately publiſhed a work much read, and which has excited the diſpleaſure of the Aſſembly ſo highly, that the writer, by way of preliminary criticiſm, has been arreſted. The book is intitled "Le Spectateur Francais pendant la Revolution." [The French Spectator during the Revolution.] It contains many truths, and ſome ſpeculations very unfavourable both to republicaniſm and itſ founders. It ventures to doubt the free acceptance of the democratic conſtitution, propoſes indirectly the reſtoration of the monarchy, and dilates with great compoſure on a plan for tranſporting to America all the Deputies who voted for the King's death. The popularity of the work, ſtill more than its principles, has contributed to exaſperate the Aſſembly; and ſerious apprehenſions are entertained for the fate of Delacroix, who is ordered for trial to the Revolutionary Tribunal.
It would aſtoniſh a ſuperficial obſerver to ſee with what avidity all forbidden doctrines are read. Under the Church and Monarchy, a deiſtical or republican author might ſometimes acquire proſelytes, or become the favourite amuſement of faſhionable or literary people; but the circulation of ſuch works could be only partial, and amongſt a particular claſs of readers: whereas the treaſon of the day, which compriſeſ whatever favours Kings or religion, is underſtood by the meaneſt individual, and the temptation to theſe prohibited enjoyments is aſſiſted both by affection and prejudice.—An almanack, with a pleaſantry on the Convention, or a couplet in behalf of royaliſm, is handed myſteriouſly through half a town, and a brochure [A pamphlet.] of higher pretenſions, though on the ſame principles, is the very bonne bouche of our political gourmandſ. [Gluttons.]
There is, in fact, no liberty of the preſs. It is permitted to write againſt Barrere or the Jacobins, becauſe they are no longer in power; but a ſingle word of diſreſpect towards the Convention is more certain of being followed by a Lettre de Cachet, than a volume of ſatire on any of Louis the Fourteenth's miniſters would have been formerly. The only period in which a real freedom of the preſs has exiſted in France were thoſe years of the late King's reign immediately preceding the revolution; and either through the contempt, ſupineneſs, or worſe motives, of thoſe who ſhould have checked it, it exiſted in too great a degree: ſo that deiſts and republicans were permitted to corrupt the people, and undermine the government without reſtraint.*
* It is well known that Calonne encouraged libels on the Queen, to obtain credit for his zeal in ſuppreſſing them; and the culpable vanity of Necker made made him but too willing to raiſe his own reputation on the wreck of that of an unſuſpecting and unfortunate Monarch.
After the fourteenth of July 1789, political literature became more ſubject to mobs and the lanterne, than ever it had been to Miniſters and Baſtilles; and at the tenth of Auguſt 1792, every veſtige of the liberty of the preſs diſappeared.*—
* "What impartial man among us muſt not be forced to acknowledge, that ſince the revolution it has become dangerous for any one, I will not ſay to attack the government, but to emit opinions contrary to thoſe which the government has adopted." Diſcours de Jean Bon St. Andre ſur la Liberte de la Preſſe, 30th April, 1795. A law was paſſed on the firſt of May, 1795, a ſhort time after thiſ letter was written, making it tranſportation to vilify the National Repreſentation, either by words or writing; and if the offence were committed publicly, or among a certain number of people, it became capital.
—Under the Briſſotins it was fatal to write, and hazardous to read, any work which tended to exculpate the King, or to cenſure his deſpotiſm, and the maſſacres that accompanied and followed it.*—
* I appeal for the confirmation of this to every perſon who reſided in France at that period.
—During the time of Robeſpierre the ſame ſyſtem was only tranſmitted to other hands, and would ſtill prevail under the Moderates, if their tyranny were not circumſcribed by their weakneſs. It was ſome time before I ventured to receive Freron's Orateur du Peuple by the poſt. Even pamphlets written with the greateſt caution are not to be procured without difficulty in the country; and this is not to be wondered at when we recollect how many people have loſt their lives through a ſubſcription to a newſpaper, or the poſſeſſion of ſome work, which, when they purchaſed it, was not interdicted.
As the government has lately aſſumed a more civilized caſt, it waſ expected that the anniverſary of the King's death would not have been celebrated. The Convention, however, determined otherwiſe; and their muſical band was ordered to attend as uſual on occaſions of feſtivity. The leader of the band had perhaps ſenſe and decency enough to ſuppoſe, that if ſuch an event could poſſibly be juſtified, it never could be a ſubject of rejoicing, and therefore made choice of melodies rather tender than gay. But this Lydian mood, far from having the mollifying effect attributed to it by Scriblerus, threw ſeveral Deputies into a rage; and the conductor was reprimanded for daring to inſult the ears of the legiſlature with ſtrains which ſeemed to lament the tyrant. The affrighted muſician begged to be heard in his defence; and declaring he only meant, by the adoption of theſe gentle airs, to expreſs the tranquillity and happineſs enjoyed under the republican conſtitution, ſtruck off Ca Ira.
When the ceremony was over, one Brival propoſed, that the young King ſhould be put to death; obſerving that inſtead of the many uſeleſs crimeſ which had been committed, this ought to have had the preference. The motion was not ſeconded; but the Convention, in order to defeat the purpoſes of the royaliſts, who, they ſay, increaſe in number, have ordered the Committees to conſider of ſome way of ſending this poor child out of the country.
When I reflect on the event which theſe men have ſo indecently commemorated, and the horrors which ſucceeded it, I feel ſomething more than a deteſtation for republicaniſm. The undefined notions of liberty imbibed from poets and hiſtorians, fade away—my reverence for names long conſecrated in our annals abateſ—and the ſole object of my political attachment is the Engliſh conſtitution, as tried by time and undeformed by the experiments of viſionaries and impoſtors. I begin to doubt either the ſenſe or honeſty of moſt of thoſe men who are celebrated as the promoters of changes of government which have chiefly been adopted rather with a view to indulge a favourite theory, than to relieve a people from any acknowledged oppreſſion. A wiſe or good man would diſtruſt hiſ judgment on a ſubject ſo momentous, and perhaps the beſt of ſuch reformers were but enthuſiaſts. Shafteſbury calls enthuſiaſm an honeſt paſſion; yet we have ſeen it is a very dangerous one: and we may perhapſ learn, from the example of France, not to venerate principles which we do not admire in practice.*
* I do not imply that the French Revolution was the work of enthuſiaſts, but that the enthuſiaſm of Rouſſeau produced a horde of Briſſots, Marats, Robeſpierres, &c. who ſpeculated on the affectation of it. The Abbe Sieyes, whoſe views were directed to a change of Monarchs, not a diſſolution of the monarchy, and who in promoting a revolution did not mean to found a republic, haſ ventured to doubt both the political genius of Rouſſeau, and the honeſty of his ſectaries. Theſe truths from the Abbe are not the leſs ſo for our knowing they would not be avowed if it anſwered hiſ purpoſe to conceal them.—"Helaſ! un ecrivain juſtement celebre qui ſeroit mort de douleur ſ'il avoit connu ſes diſciples; un philoſophe auſſi parfait de ſentiment que foible de vues, n'a-t-il pas dans ſeſ pages eloquentes, riches en detail, pauvre au fond, confondu lui-meme les principes de l'art ſocial avec les commencemens de la ſociete humaine? Que dire ſi l'on voyait dans un autre genre de mechaniques, entreprendre le radoub ou la conſtruction d'un vaiſſeau de ligne avec la ſeule theorie, avec les ſeules reſources deſ Sauvages dans la conſtruction de leurs Pirogueſ!"—"Alaſ! has not a juſtly-celebrated writer, who would have died with grief, could he have known what diſciples he was deſtined to have;—a philoſopher aſ perfect in ſentiment as feeble in his views,—confounded, in hiſ eloquent pageſ—pages which are as rich in matter as poor in ſubſtance—the principles of the ſocial ſyſtem with the commencement of human ſociety? What ſhould we ſay to a mechanic of a different deſcription, who ſhould undertake the repair or conſtruction of a ſhip of the line, without any practical knowledge of the art, on mere theory, and with no other reſources than thoſe which the ſavage employs in the conſtruction of his canoe?" Notices ſur la Vie de Sieyes.
What had France, already poſſeſſed of a conſtitution capable of rendering her proſperous and happy, to do with the adoration of Rouſſeau'ſ ſpeculative ſyſtems? Or why are the Engliſh encouraged in a traditional reſpect for the manes of republicans, whom, if living, we might not improbably conſider as factious and turbulent fanatics?*
* The prejudices of my countrymen on this ſubject are reſpectable, and I know I ſhall be deemed guilty of a ſpecies of political ſacrilege. I attack not the tombs of the dead, but the want of conſideration for the living; and let not thoſe who admire republican principles in their cloſets, think themſelves competent to cenſure the opinions of one who has been watching their effectſ amidſt the diſaſters of a revolution.
Our ſlumbers have for ſome time been patriotically diſturbed by the danger of Holland; and the taking of the Maeſtricht nearly cauſed me a jaundice: but the French have taught us philoſophy—and their conqueſtſ appear to afford them ſo little pleaſure, that we ourſelves hear of them with leſs pain. The Convention were indeed, at firſt, greatly elated by the diſpatches from Amſterdam, and imagined they were on the eve of dictating to all Europe: the churches were ordered to toll their only bell, and the gaſconades of the bulletin were uncommonly pompouſ—but the novelty of the event has now ſubſided, and the conqueſt of Holland excites leſs intereſt than the thaw. Public ſpirit is abſorbed by private neceſſities or afflictions; people who cannot procure bread or firing, even though they have money to purchaſe it, are little gratified by reading that a pair of their Deputies lodged in the Stadtholder'ſ palace; and the triumphs of the republic offer no conſolation to the families which it has pillaged or diſmembered.
The mind, narrowed and occupied by the little cares of hunting out the neceſſaries of life, and evading the reſtraints of a jealous government, is not ſuſceptible of that lively concern in diſtant and general eventſ which is the effect of eaſe and ſecurity; and all the recent victorieſ have not been able to ſooth the diſcontents of the Pariſians, who are obliged to ſhiver whole hours at the door of a baker, to buy, at an extravagant price, a trifling portion of bread.
* "Chacun ſe concentre aujourdhui dans ſa famille et calcule ſeſ reſources."—"The attention of every one now is confined to hiſ family, and to the calculation of his reſources." Diſcours de Lindet. "Accable du ſoin d'etre, et du travail de vivre."—"Overwhelmed with the care of exiſtence, and the labour of living." St. Lambert
—The impreſſion of theſe ſucceſſes is, I am perſuaded, alſo diminiſhed by conſiderations to which the philoſopher of the day would allow no influence; yet by their aſſimilation with the Deputies and Generals whoſe names are ſo obſcure as to eſcape the memory, they ceaſe to inſpire that mixed ſentiment which is the reſult of national pride and perſonal affection. The name of a General or an Admiral ſerves as the epitome of an hiſtorical relation, and ſuffices to recall all his glories, and all his ſervices; but this ſort of enthuſiaſm is entirely repelled by an account that the citizens Gillet and Jourbert, two repreſentatives heard of almoſt for the firſt time, have taken poſſeſſion of Amſterdam.
I enquired of a man who was ſawing wood for us this morning, what the bells clattered for laſt night. "L'on m'a dit (anſwered he) que c'eſt pour quelque ville que quelque general de la republique a priſe. Ah! ca nous avancera beaucoup; la paix et du pain, je crois, ſera mieux notre affaire que toutes ces conquetes." ["They ſay its for ſome town or other, that ſome general or other has taken.—Ah! we ſhall get a vaſt deal by that—a peace and bread, I think, would anſwer our purpoſe better than all theſe victories."] I told him he ought to ſpeak with more caution. "Mourir pour mourir, [One death's as good as another.] (ſayſ he, half gaily,) one may as well die by the Guillotine as be ſtarved. My family have had no bread theſe two days, and becauſe I went to a neighbouring village to buy a little corn, the peaſants, who are jealouſ that the town's people already get too much of the farmers, beat me ſo that I am ſcarce able to work."*—
* "L'interet et la criminelle avarice ont fomente et entretenu deſ germes de diviſion entre les citoyens des villes et ceux deſ campagnes, entre les cultivateurs, les artiſans et les commercans, entre les citoyens des departements et diſtricts, et meme deſ communes voiſines. On a voulu ſ'iſoler de toutes parts." Diſcours de Lindet. "Self-intereſt and a criminal avarice have fomented and kept alive the ſeeds of diviſion between the inhabitants of the towns and thoſe of the country, between the farmer, the mechanic, and the trader— the like has happened between adjoining towns and diſtrictſ—an univerſal ſelfiſhneſs, in ſhort, has prevailed." Lindet's Speech. This picture, drawn by a Jacobin Deputy, is not flattering to republican fraternization.
—It is true, the wants of the lower claſſes are afflicting. The whole town has, for ſome weeks, been reduced to a nominal half pound of bread a day for each perſon—I ſay nominal, for it has repeatedly happened, that none has been diſtributed for three days together, and the quantity diminiſhed to four ounces; whereas the poor, who are uſed to eat little elſe, conſume each, in ordinary times, two pounds daily, on the loweſt calculation.
We have had here a brutal vulgar-looking Deputy, one Florent-Guyot, who has harangued upon the virtues of patience, and the magnanimity of ſuffering hunger for the good of the republic. This doctrine has, however, made few converts; though we learn, from a letter of Florent-Guyot's to the Aſſembly, that the Amienois are excellent patriots, and that they ſtarve with the beſt grace poſſible.
You are to underſtand, that the Repreſentatives on miſſion, who deſcribe the inhabitants of all the towns they viſit as glowing with republicaniſm, have, beſides the ſervice of the common cauſe, views of their own, and are often enabled by theſe fictions to adminiſter both to their intereſt and their vanity. They ingratiate themſelves with the ariſtocrats, who are pleaſed at the imputation of principles which may ſecure them from perſecution—they ſee their names recorded on the journals; and, finally, by aſcribing theſe civic diſpoſitions to the power of their own eloquence, they obtain the renewal of an itinerant delegation—which, it may be preſumed, is very profitable.
I have often, in the courſe of theſe letters, experienced how difficult it is to deſcribe the political ſituation of a country governed by no fixed principles, and ſubject to all the fluctuations which are produced by the intereſts and paſſions of individuals and of parties. In ſuch a ſtate concluſions are neceſſarily drawn from daily events, minute facts, and an attentive obſervation of the opinions and diſpoſitions of the people, which, though they leave a perfect impreſſion on the mind of the writer, are not eaſily conveyed to that of the reader. They are like colours, the various ſhades of which, though diſcriminated by the eye, cannot be deſcribed but in general terms.
Since I laſt wrote, the government has conſiderably improved in decency and moderation; and though the French enjoy as little freedom as their almoſt ſole Allies, the Algerines, yet their terror begins to wear off— and, temporizing with a deſpotiſm they want energy to deſtroy, they rejoice in the ſuſpenſion of oppreſſions which a day or an hour may renew. No one pretends to have any faith in the Convention; but we are tranquil, if not ſecure—and, though ſubject to a thouſand arbitrary details, incompatible with a good government, the political ſyſtem iſ doubtleſs meliorated. Juſtice and the voice of the people have been attended to in the arreſt of Collot, Barrere, and Billaud, though many are of opinion that their puniſhment will extend no farther; for a trial, particularly that of Barrere, who is in the ſecret of all factions, would expoſe ſo many revolutionary myſteries and patriotic reputations, that there are few members of the Convention who will not wiſh it evaded; they probably expect, that the ſecluſion, for ſome months, of the perſons of the delinquents will appeaſe the public vengeance, and that this affair may be forgotten in the buſtle of more recent events.—If there had been any doubt of the crimes of theſe men, the publication of Robeſpierre'ſ papers would have removed them; and, excluſive of their value when conſidered as a hiſtory of the times, theſe papers form one of the moſt curious and humiliating monuments of human debaſement, and human depravity, extant.*
* The Report of Courtois on Robeſpierre's papers, though very able, is an inſtance of the pedantry I have often remarked as ſo peculiar to the French, even when they are not deficient in talents. It ſeems to be an abſtract of all the learning, ancient and modern, that Courtois was poſſeſſed of. I have the book before me, and have ſelected the following liſt of perſons and alluſions; many of which are indeed of ſo little uſe or ornament to their ſtations in thiſ ſpeech, that one would have thought even a republican requiſition could not have brought them there: "Sampſon, Dalila, Philip, Athens, Sylla, the Greeks and Romans, Brutus, Lycurgus, Perſepolis, Sparta, Pulcheria, Cataline, Dagon, Anicius, Nero, Babel, Tiberius, Caligula, Auguſtus, Antony, Lepidus, the Manicheans, Bayle and Galileo, Anitus, Socrates, Demoſthenes, Eſchinus, Marius, Buſiris, Diogenes, Caeſar, Cromwell, Conſtantine, the Labarum, Domitius, Machiavel, Thraſeas, Cicero, Cato, Ariſtophanes, Riſcius, Sophocles, Euripides, Tacitus, Sydney, Wiſnou, Poſſidonius, Julian, Argus, Pompey, the Teutates, Gainas, Areadius, Sinon, Aſmodeus, Salamanders, Anicetus, Atreus, Thyeſtus, Ceſonius, Barca and Oreb, Omar and the Koran, Ptolomy Philadelphus, Arimanes, Gengis, Themuginus, Tigellinus, Adrean, Cacus, the Fates, Minos and Rhadamanthus," &c. &c. Rapport de Courtois ſu les Papiers de Robeſpierre.
After ſeveral ſkirmiſhes between the Jacobins and Muſcadins, the buſt of Marat has been expelled from the theatres and public places of Paris, and the Convention have ratified this popular judgment, by removing him alſo from their Hall and the Pantheon. But reflecting on the frailty of our nature, and the levity of their countrymen, in order to obviate the diſorders theſe premature beatifications give riſe to, they have decreed that no patriot ſhall in future by Pantheonized until ten years after hiſ death. This is no long period; yet revolutionary reputations have hitherto ſcarcely ſurvived as many months, and the puerile enthuſiaſm which is adopted, not felt, has been uſually ſucceeded by a violence and revenge equally irrational.
It has lately been diſcovered that Condorcet is dead, and that he periſhed in a manner ſingularly awful. Travelling under a mean appearance, he ſtopped at a public houſe to refreſh himſelf, and waſ arreſted in conſequence of having no paſſport. He told the people who examined him he was a ſervant, but a Horace, which they found about him, leading to a ſuſpicion that he was of a ſuperior rank, they determined to take him to the next town. Though already exhauſted, he was obliged to walk ſome miles farther, and, on his arrival, he was depoſited in a priſon, where he was forgotten, and ſtarved to death.
Thus, perhaps at the moment the French were apotheoſing an obſcure demagogue, the celebrated Condorcet expired, through the neglect of a gaoler; and now, the coarſe and ferocious Marat, and the more refined, yet more pernicious, philoſopher, are both involved in one common obloquy.
What a theme for the moraliſt!—Perhaps the gaoler, whoſe brutal careleſſneſs terminated the days of Condorcet, extinguiſhed his own humanity in the torrent of that revolution of which Condorcet himſelf waſ one of the authors; and perhaps the death of a ſovereign, whom Condorcet aſſiſted in bringing to the ſcaffold, might have been this man's firſt leſſon in cruelty, and have taught him to ſet little value on the liveſ of the reſt of mankind.—The French, though they do not analyſe ſeriouſly, ſpeak of this event as a juſt retribution, which will be followed by others of a ſimilar nature. "Quelle mort," ["What an end."] ſays one—"Elle eſt affreuſe, (ſays another,) mais il etoit cauſe que bien d'autres ont peri auſſi."—"Ils periront tous, et tant mieux," ["'Twas dreadful—but how many people have periſhed by his means."— "They'll all ſhare the ſame fate, and ſo much the better."] reply twenty voices; and this is the only epitaph on Condorcet.
The pretended revolution of the thirty-firſt of May, 1792, which haſ occaſioned ſo much bloodſhed, and which I remember it dangerous not to hallow, though you did not underſtand why, is now formally eraſed from among the feſtivals of the republic; but this is only the triumph of party, and a ſignal that the remains of the Briſſotines are gaining ground.
A more conſpicuous and a more popular victory has been obtained by the royaliſts, in the trial and acquittal of Delacroix. The jury had been changed after the affair of Carrier, and were now better compoſed; though the eſcape of Delacroix is more properly to be attributed to the intimidating favour of the people. The verdict was received with ſhoutſ of applauſe, repeated with tranſport, and Delacroix, who had ſo patriotically projected to purify the Convention, by ſending more than half its members to America, was borne home on the ſhoulders of an exulting populace.
Again the extinction of the war in La Vendee is officially announced; and it is certain that the chiefs are now in treaty with government. Such a peace only implies, that the country is exhauſted, for it ſuffices to have read the treatment of theſe unhappy people to know that a reconciliation can neither be ſincere nor permanent. But whatever may be the eventual effect of this negotiation, it has been, for the preſent, the means of wreſting ſome unwilling conceſſions from the Aſſembly in favour of a free exerciſe of religion. No arrangement could ever be propoſed to the Vendeans, which did not include a toleration of Chriſtianity; and to refuſe that to patriots and republicans, which waſ granted to rebels and royaliſts, was deemed at this time neither reaſonable nor politic. A decree is therefore paſſed, authorizing people, if they can overcome all the annexed obſtacles, to worſhip God in they way they have been accuſtomed to.
The public hitherto, far from being aſſured or encouraged by this decree, appear to have become more timid and ſuſpicious; for it is conceived in ſo narrow and paltry a ſpirit, and expreſſed in ſuch malignant and illuſive terms, that it can hardly be ſaid to intend an indulgence. Of twelve articles of an act ſaid to be conceſſive, eight are prohibitory and reſtrictive; and a municipal officer, or any other perſon "in place or office," may controul at his pleaſure all religious celebrations. The cathedrals and pariſh churches yet ſtanding were ſeized on by the government at the introduction of the Goddeſſes of Reaſon, and the decree expreſſly declares that they ſhall not be reſtored or appropriated to their original uſes. Individuals, who have purchaſed chapels or churches, heſitate to ſell or let them, leſt they ſhould, on a change of politics, be perſecuted as the abettors of fanaticiſm; ſo that the long-deſired reſtoration of the Catholic worſhip makes but very ſlow progreſs.*—
* This decree prohibits any pariſh, community, or body of people collectively, from hiring or purchaſing a church, or maintaining a clergyman: it alſo forbids ringing a bell, or giving any other public notice of Divine Service, or even diſtinguiſhing any building by external ſigns of its being dedicated to religion.
—A few people, whoſe zeal overpowers their diſcretion, have ventured to have maſſes at their own houſes, but they are thinly attended; and on aſking any one if they have yet been to this ſort of conventicle, the reply is, "On new ſait pas trop ce que le decret veut dire; il faut voir comment cela tournera." ["One cannot rightly comprehend the decree—it will be beſt to wait and ſee how things go."] Such a diſtruſt is indeed very natural; for there are two ſubjects on which an inveterate hatred iſ apparent, and which are equally obnoxious to all ſyſtems and all partieſ in the Aſſembly—I mean Chriſtianity and Great Britain. Every day produces harangues againſt the latter; and Boiſſy d'Anglas has ſolemnly proclaimed, as the directing principle of the government, that the only negociation for peace ſhall be a new boundary deſcribed by the Northern conqueſts of the republic; and this modeſt diplomatic is ſupported by arguments to prove, that the commerce of England cannot be ruined on any other terms.*
* "How (exclaims the ſagacious Bourdon de l'Oiſe) can you hope to ruin England, if you do not keep poſſeſſion of the three great rivers." (The Rhine, the Meuſe, and the Scheldt.)
The debates of the Convention increaſe in variety and amuſement. Beſideſ the manual exerciſes of the members, the accuſations and retorts of unguarded choler, diſcloſe to us many curious truths which a politic unanimity might conceal. Saladin, who was a ſtipendiary of the Duke of Orleans, and whoſe reputation would not grace any other aſſembly, iſ tranſformed into a Moderate, and talks of virtue and crime; while Andre Dumont, to the great admiration of his private biographiſts, has been ſigning a peace with the Duke of Tuſcany.—Our republican ſtateſmen require to be viewed in perſpective: they appear to no advantage in the foreground. Dumont would have made "a good pantler, he would have chipp'd bread well;" or, like Scrub, he might have "drawn warrants, or drawn beer,"—but I ſhould doubt if, in a tranſaction of this nature, the Dukedom of Tuſcany was ever before ſo aſſorted; and if the Duke were obliged to make this peace, he may well ſay, "neceſſity doth make us herd with ſtrange companions."
Notwithſtanding the Convention ſtill deteſts Chriſtianity, utterſ anathemas againſt England, and exhibits daily ſcenes of indecent diſcuſſion and reviling, it is doubtleſs become more moderate on the whole; and though this moderation be not equal to the people's wiſhes, it is more than ſufficient to exaſperate the Jacobins, who call the Convention the Senate of Coblentz, and are perpetually endeavouring to excite commotions. The belief is, indeed, general, that the Aſſembly contains a ſtrong party of royaliſts; yet, though this may be true in a degree, I fear the impulſe which has been given by the public opinion, iſ miſtaken for a tendency in the Convention itſelf. But however, this may be, neither the imputations of the Jacobins, nor the hopes of the people, have been able to oppoſe the progreſs of a ſentiment which, operating on a character like that of the French, is more fatal to a popular body than even hatred or contempt. The long duration of this diſaſtrouſ legiſlature has excited an univerſal wearineſs; the guilt of particular members is now leſs diſcuſſed than the inſignificance of the whole aſſemblage; and the epithets corrupt, worn out, hackneyed, and everlaſting, [Tare, uſe, banal, and eternel.] have almoſt ſuperſeded thoſe of rogues and villains.
The law of the maximum has been repealed ſome time, and we now procure neceſſaries with much greater facility; but the aſſignats, no longer ſupported by violence, are rapidly diminiſhing in credit—ſo that every thing is dear in proportion. We, who are more than indemnified by the riſe of exchange in our favour, are not affected by theſe progreſſive augmentations in the price of proviſions. It would, however, be erroneous and unfeeling to judge of the ſituation of the French themſelves from ſuch a calculation.
People who have let their eſtates on leaſes, or have annuities on the Hotel de Ville, &c. receive aſſignats at par, and the wages of the labouring poor are ſtill comparatively low. What was five years ago a handſome fortune, now barely ſupplies a decent maintenance; and ſmaller incomes, which were competencies at that period, are now almoſt inſufficient for exiſtence. A workman, who formerly earned twenty-five ſols a day, has at preſent three livres; and you give a ſempſtreſs thirty ſols, inſtead of ten: yet meat, which was only five or ſix ſols when wages was twenty-five, is now from fifty ſols to three livres the pound, and every other article in the ſame or a higher proportion. Thus, a man's daily wages, inſtead of purchaſing four or five pounds of meat, aſ they would have done before the revolution, now only purchaſe one.
It grieves me to ſee people whom I have known at their eaſe, obliged to relinquiſh, in the decline of life, comforts to which they were accuſtomed at a time when youth rendered indulgence leſs neceſſary; yet every day points to the neceſſity of additional oeconomy, and ſome little convenience or enjoyment is retrenched—and to thoſe who are not above acknowledging how much we are the creatures of habit, a diſh of coffee, or a glaſs of liqueur, &c. will not ſeem ſuch trifling privations. It iſ true, theſe are, ſtrictly ſpeaking, luxuries; ſo too are moſt things by compariſon—
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"O reaſon not the need: our baſeſt beggarſ
"Are in the pooreſt thing ſuperfluous: "Allow not nature more than nature needs, "Man's life is cheap as beaſt's." |
If the wants of one claſs were relieved by theſe deductions from the enjoyments of another, it might form a ſufficient conſolation; but the ſame cauſes which have baniſhed the ſplendor of wealth and the comfortſ of mediocrity, deprive the poor of bread and raiment, and enforced parſimony is not more generally conſpicuous than wretchedneſs.
The frugal tables of thoſe who were once rich, have been accompanied by relative and ſimilar changes among the lower claſſes; and the ſuppreſſion of gilt equipages is ſo far from diminiſhing the number of wooden ſhoes, that for one pair of ſabots which were ſeen formerly, there are now ten. The only Luculluſ's of the day are a ſwarm of adventurers who have eſcaped from priſons, or abandoned gaming-houſes, to raiſe fortunes by ſpeculating in the various modes of acquiring wealth which the revolution has engendered.—Theſe, together with the numberleſs agents of government enriched by more direct pillage, live in coarſe luxury, and diſſipate with careleſs profuſion thoſe riches which their original ſituations and habits have diſqualified them from converting to a better uſe.
Although the circumſtances of the times have neceſſitated a good deal of domeſtic oeconomy among people who live on their fortunes, they have lately aſſumed a gayer ſtyle of dreſs, and are leſs averſe from frequenting public amuſements. For three years paſt, (and very naturally,) the gentry have openly murmured at the revolution; and they now, either convinced of the impolicy of ſuch conduct, terrified by their paſt ſufferings, or, above all, deſirous of proclaiming their triumph over the Jacobins, are every where reviving the national taſte for modeſ and finery. The attempt to reconcile theſe gaieties with prudence, haſ introduced ſome contraſts in apparel whimſical enough, though our French belles adopt them with much gravity.
In conſequence of the diſorders in the South of France, and the interruption of commerce by ſea, ſoap is not only dear, but ſometimeſ difficult to purchaſe at any rate. We have ourſelves paid equal to five livres a pound in money. Hence we have white wigſ* and grey ſtockings, medallions and gold chains with coloured handkerchiefs and diſcoloured tuckers, and chemiſes de Sappho, which are often worn till they rather remind one of the pious Queen Iſabel, than the Greek poeteſs.
* Vilate, in his pamphlet on the ſecret cauſes of the revolution of the ninth Thermidor, relates the following anecdote of the origin of the peruques blondes. "The caprice of a revolutionary female who, on the fete in celebration of the Supreme Being, covered her own dark hair with a tete of a lighter colour, having excited the jealouſy of La Demahe, one of Barrere's miſtreſſes, ſhe took occaſion to complain to him of this coquettry, by which ſhe thought her own charms eclipſed. Barrere inſtantly ſent for Payen, the national agent, and informed him that a new counter-revolutionary ſect had ſtarted up, and that its partizans diſtinguiſhed themſelveſ by wearing wigs made of light hair cut from the heads of the guillotined ariſtocrats. He therefore enjoined Payen to make a ſpeech at the municipality, and to thunder againſt this new mode. The mandate was, of courſe, obeyed; and the women of rank, who had never before heard of theſe wigs, were both ſurprized and alarmed at an imputation ſo dangerous. Barrere is ſaid to have been highly amuſed at having thus ſolemnly ſtopped the progreſs of a faſhion, only becuaſe it diſpleaſed one of his female favourites.—I perfectly remember Payen's oration againſt this coeffure, and every woman in Paris who had light hair, was, I doubt not, intimidated." This pleaſantry of Barrere's proves with what inhuman levity the government ſported with the feelings of the people. At the fall of Robeſpierre, the peruque blonde, no longer ſubject to the empire of Barrere's favourites, became a reigning mode.
—Madame Tallien, who is ſuppoſed occaſionally to dictate decrees to the Convention, preſides with a more avowed and certain ſway over the realmſ of faſhion; and the Turkiſh draperies that may float very gracefully on a form like hers, are imitated by rotund ſeſquipedal Fatimas, who make one regret even the tight lacings and unnatural diminiſhings of our grandmothers.
I came to Beauvais a fortnight ago with the Marquiſe. Her long confinement has totally ruined her health, and I much fear ſhe will not recover. She has an aunt lives here, and we flattered ourſelves ſhe might benefit by change of air—but, on the contrary, ſhe ſeems worſe, and we propoſe to return in the courſe of a week to Amiens.
I had a good deal of altercation with the municipality about obtaining a paſſport; and when they at laſt conſented, they gave me to underſtand I was ſtill a priſoner in the eye of the law, and that I was indebted to them for all the freedom I enjoyed. This is but too true; for the decree conſtituting the Engliſh hoſtages for the Deputies at Toulon has never been repealed—
|
"Ah, what avails it that from ſlavery far,
"I drew the breath of life in Engliſh air?" Johnſon. |
Yet is it a conſolation, that the title by which I was made an object of mean vengeance is the one I moſt value.*
* An Engliſh gentleman, who was aſked by a republican Commiſſary, employed in examining the priſons, why he was there, replied, "Becauſe I have not the miſfortune to be a Frenchman!"
This is a large manufacturing town, and the capital of the department of l'Oiſe. Its manufactories now owe their chief activity to the requiſitions for ſupplying cloth to the armies. Such commerce is by no means courted; and if people were permitted, as they are in moſt countries, to trade or let it alone, it would ſoon decline.—The choir of the cathedral is extremely beautiful, and has luckily eſcaped republican devaſtation, though there ſeems to exiſt no hope that it will be again reſtored to the uſe of public worſhip. Your books will inform you, that Beauvais was beſieged in 1472 by the Duke of Burgundy, with eighty thouſand men, and that he failed in the attempt. Its modern hiſtory iſ not ſo fortunate. It was for ſome time haraſſed by a revolutionary army, whoſe exactions and diſorders being oppoſed by the inhabitants, a decree of the Convention declared the town in a ſtate of rebellion; and thiſ ban, which operates like the Papal excommunications three centuries ago, and authorizes tyranny of all kinds, was not removed until long after the death of Robeſpierre.—Such a ſpecimen of republican government has made the people cautious, and abundant in the exteriors of patriotiſm. Where they are ſure of their company, they expreſs themſelves without reſerve, both on the ſubject of their legiſlators and the miſeries of the country; but intercourſe is conſiderably more timid here than at Amiens.
Two gentlemen dined with us yeſterday, whom I know to be zealouſ royaliſts, and, as they are acquainted, I made no ſcruple of producing an engraving which commemorates myſteriouſly the death of the King, and which I had juſt received from Paris by a private conveyance. They looked alarmed, and affected not to underſtand it; and, perceiving I had done wrong, I replaced the print without farther explanation: but they both called this evening, and reproached me ſeparately for thus expoſing their ſentiments to each other.—This is a trifling incident, yet perhapſ it may partly explain the great aenigma why no effectual reſiſtance iſ made to a government which is ſecretly deteſted. It has been the policy of all the revolutioniſts, from the Lameths and La Fayette down to Briſſot and Robeſpierre, to deſtroy the confidence of ſociety; and the calamities of laſt year, now aiding the ſyſtem of ſpies and informers, occaſion an apprehenſion and diſtruſt which impede union, and check every enterprize that might tend to reſtore the freedom of the country.—Yours, &c.
Inſtead of commenting on the late diſorders at Paris, I ſubjoin the tranſlation of a letter juſt received by Mrs. D———— from a friend, whoſe information, we have reaſon to believe, is as exact as can poſſibly be obtained in the chaos of little intrigues which now compriſe the whole ſcience of French politics.
"Paris, April 9.
"Though I know, my good friend, you are ſufficiently verſed in the technicals of our revolution not to form an opinion of occurrences from the language in which they are officially deſcribed, yet I cannot reſiſt the favourable opportunity of Mad. ————'s return, to communicate ſuch explanations of the late events as their very ambiguous appearance may render neceſſary even to you.
"I muſt begin by informing you, that the propoſed decree of the Convention to diſſolve themſelves and call a new Aſſembly, was a mere coquettry. Haraſſed by the ſtruggles of the Jacobins, and alarmed at the ſymptoms of public wearineſs and diſguſt, which became every day more viſible, they hoped this feint might operate on the fears of the people of Paris, and animate them to a more decided ſupport againſt the effortſ of the common enemy, as well as tend to reconcile them to a farther endurance of a repreſentation from which they did not diſguiſe their wiſhes to be releaſed. An opportunity was therefore ſeized on, or created, when our allowance of bread had become unuſually ſhort, and the Jacobins unuſually turbulent, to bring forward this project of renovating the legiſlature. But in politics, as well as love, ſuch experiments are dangerous. Far from being received with regret, the propoſition excited univerſal tranſport; and it required all the diligence of the agents of government to inſinuate effectually, that if Paris were abandoned by the Convention at this juncture, it would not only become a prey to famine, but the Jacobins would avail themſelves of the momentary diſorder to regain their power, and renew their paſt atrocities.
"A conviction that we in reality derive our ſcanty ſupplies from exertions which would not be made, were they not neceſſary to reſtrain the popular ill humour, added to an habitual apprehenſion of the Clubs,* aſſiſted this manoeuvre; and a few of the ſections were, in conſequence, prevailed on to addreſs our Repreſentatives, and to requeſt they would remain at their poſt.—
* Paris had been long almoſt entirely dependent on the government for ſubſiſtence, ſo that an inſurrection could always be procured by withholding the uſual ſupply. The departments were pillaged by requiſitions, and enormous ſums ſent to the neutral countries to purchaſe proviſions, that the capital might be maintained in dependence and good humour. The proviſions obtained by theſe meanſ were diſtributed to the ſhopkeepers, who had inſtructions to retail them to the idle and diſorderly, at about a twentieth part of the original coſt, and no one could profit by this regulation, without firſt receiving a ticket from the Committee of his ſection. It was lately aſſerted in the Convention, and not diſavowed, that if the government perſiſted in this ſort of traffic, the annual loſſ attending the article of corn alone would amount to fifty millionſ ſterling. The reduction of the ſum in queſtion into Engliſh money is made on a preſumption that the French government did not mean (were it to be avoided) to commit an act of bankruptcy, and redeem their paper at leſs than par. Reckoning, however, at the real value of aſſignats when the calculation was made, and they were then worth perhaps a fifth of their nominal value, the government was actually at the expence of ten millions ſterling a year, for ſupplying Pariſ with a very ſcanty portion of bread! The ſum muſt appear enormous, but the peculation under ſuch a government muſt be incalculable; and when it is recollected that all neutral ſhips bringing cargoes for the republic muſt have been inſured at an immenſe premium, or perhaps eventually purchaſed by the French, and that very few could reach their deſtination, we may conclude that ſuch as did arrive coſt an immoderate ſum.
—"The inſurrection that immediately ſucceeded was at firſt the effect of a ſimilar ſcheme, and it ended in a party contention, in which the people, as uſual, were neuter.
"The examination into the conduct of Barrere, Collot, &c. had been delayed until it ſeemed rather a meaſure deſtined to protect than to bring them to puniſhment; and the impatience which was every where expreſſed on the ſubject, ſufficiently indicated the neceſſity, or at leaſt the prudence, of haſtening their trial. Such a proceſs could not be ventured on but at the riſk of involving the whole Convention in a labyrinth of crimes, inconſiſtencies, and ridicule, and the delinquentſ already began to exonerate themſelves by appealing to the vote of ſolemn approbation paſſed in their favour three months after the death of Robeſpierre had reſtored the Aſſembly to entire freedom.
"The only means of extrication from this dilemma, appeared to be that of finding ſome pretext to ſatiſfy the public vengeance, without hazarding the ſcandal of a judicial expoſure. Such a pretext it was not difficult to give riſe to: a diminiſhed portion of bread never fails to produce tumultuous aſſemblages, that are eaſily directed, though not eaſily ſuppreſſed; and crouds of this deſcription, agitated by real miſery, were excited (as we have every reaſon to ſuppoſe) by hired emiſſaries to aſſail the Convention with diſorderly clamours for bread. This being attributed to the friends of the culprits, decrees were opportunely introduced and paſſed for tranſporting them untried out of the republic, and for arreſting moſt of the principal Jacobin members as their partizans.
"The ſubſequent diſturbances were leſs artificial; for the Jacobins, thuſ rendered deſperate, attempted reſiſtance; but, as they were unſucceſſful, their efforts only ſerved their adverſaries as an excuſe for arreſting ſeveral of the party who had eſcaped the former decrees.
"Nothing, I aſſure you, can with leſs truth be denominated popular movements, than many of theſe ſcenes, which have, notwithſtanding, powerfully influenced the fate of our country. A revolt, or inſurrection, is often only an affair of intrigue and arrangement; and the deſultory violences of the ſuburbs of St. Antoine, or of the market women, are regulated by the ſame Committee and cabals that direct our campaigns and treaties. The common diſtreſſes of the people are continually drawing them together; and, when thus collected, their credulity renders them the ready inſtruments of any prevailing faction.
"Our recent diſorders afforded a ſtriking proof of this. I was myſelf the Cicerone of a country friend on the day the Convention was firſt aſſailed. The numbers who crouded into the hall were at firſt conſiderable, yet they exhibited no ſigns of hoſtility, and it waſ evident they were brought there for ſome purpoſe of which they were themſelves ignorant. When aſked their intentions, they vociferated 'Du pain! Du pain!'—Bread, Bread; and, after occupying the ſeats of the Deputies for a ſhort time, quietly withdrew.
"That this inſurrection was originally factitious, and deviſed for the purpoſe I have mentioned, is farther corroborated by the ſudden appearance of Pichegru and other officers, who ſeemed brought expreſſly to protect the departure of the obnoxious trio, in caſe it ſhould be oppoſed either by their friends or enemies. It is likewiſe to be remarked, that Barrere and the reſt were ſtopped at the gates of Paris by the ſame mob who were alledged to have riſen in their favour, and who, inſtead of endeavouring to reſcue them, brought them back to the Committee of General Safety, on a ſuppoſition that they had eſcaped from priſon.—The members of the moderate party, who were detained in ſome of the ſections, ſuſtained no ill treatment whatever, and were releaſed on being claimed by their colleagues, which could ſcarcely have happened, had the mob been under the direction of the Jacobins, or excited by them.—In ſhort, the whole buſineſs proved that the populace were mere agents, guided by no impulſe of their own, except hunger, and who, when left to themſelves, rather impeded than promoted the deſigns of both factions.
"You muſt have been ſurprized to ſee among the liſt of members arreſted, the name of Laurent Lecointre; but he could never be pardoned for having reduced the Convention to the embarraſſing neceſſity of proſecuting Robeſpierre's aſſociates, and he is now ſecured, leſt his reſtleſſ Quixotiſm ſhould remind the public, that the pretended puniſhment of theſe criminals is in fact only a ſcandalous impunity.
"We are at preſent calm, but our diſtreſs for bread is intolerable, and the people occaſionally aſſail the paſtry-cookſ' ſhops; which act of hoſtility is called, with more pleaſantry than truth or feeling, 'La guerre du pain bis contre la brioche.' [The war of brown bread againſt cakes.]—God knows, it is not the quality of bread, but the ſcarcity of it which excites theſe diſcontents.
"The new arithmetic* is more followed, and more intereſting, than ever, though our hopes are all vague, and we neither gueſs how or by whom they are to be fulfilled.
* This was a myſterious way of expreſſing that the royaliſts were ſtill gaining ground. It alluded to a cuſtom which then prevailed, of people aſking each other in the ſtreet, and ſometimes even aſſailing the Deputies, with the queſtion of "How much is eight and a half and eight and a half?"—By which was underſtood Louis the Seventeenth.