"I have done every thing that depends on me to obtain your paſſportſ without ſucceſs, and I ſtill adviſe you to come to Paris and ſolicit them in perſon. Your departure, in happier times, would be a ſubject of regret, at preſent I ſhall both envy and congratulate you when you are enabled to quit a country which promiſes ſo little ſecurity or ſatiſfaction.
"We receive, at this moment, the two loaves. My ſiſter joins me in acknowledgments, and expreſſes her fears that you muſt ſuffer by your kindneſs, though it is truly acceptable—for I have been ſeveral dayſ under arms, and have had no time to make my uſual excurſions in ſearch of bread.
"Yours, &c."
The propoſed diſſolution of the Aſſembly alluded to in the beginning of Mons. ————'s letter, occaſioned here a more general rejoicing than even the fall of the Jacobin club, and, not being influenced by the motives ſuggeſted to the Pariſians, we were ſincerely diſappointed when we found the meaſure poſtponed. The morning this news arrived, we walked about the town till dinner, and in every ſtreet people were collected in groupes, and engaged in eager diſcuſſion. An acquaintance whom we happened to meet, inſtead of the uſual ſalutations, exclaimed "Nouſ viola quittes, ils ſ'en vont les brigandſ" ["At length we are quit of them—the rogues are going about their buſineſs."]; and I obſerved ſeveral recontres of this ſort, where people ſkipped and caracoled, as though unable to contain their ſatiſfaction. Nothing was talked of but Le Petit [An endearing appellation given to the young King by thoſe who would not venture to mention his name.], and the new elections; and I remarked with pleaſure, that every one agreed in the total excluſion of all the preſent Deputies.
Two mornings after we had been indulging in theſe agreeable viſions, we learned that the Convention, purely from a patriotic deſire of ſerving their country, had determined not to quit their poſt. We were at thiſ time in extreme want of bread, the diſtribution not exceeding a quarter of a pound per day; and numbers who are at their eaſe in other reſpects, could not obtain any. This, operating perhaps with the latent ill humour occaſioned by ſo unwelcome a declaration of perſeverance on the part of their Repreſentatives, occaſioned a violent ferment among the people, and on the ſecond of this month they were in open revolt; the magazine of corn for the uſe of the army was beſieged, the national colours were inſulted, and Blaux, a Deputy who is here on miſſion, was dragged from the Hotel de Ville, and obliged by the enraged populace to cry "Vive le Roi!" Theſe diſorders continued till the next day, but were at length appeaſed by a ſmall diſtribution of flour from the magazine.
In the debates of the Convention the whole is aſcribed to the Jacobins, though it is well known they have no influence here; and I wiſh you to attend to this circumſtance more particularly, as it proves what artifices are uſed to conceal the real ſentiments of the people. I, and every inhabitant of Amiens, can atteſt that this revolt, which waſ declared in the Aſſembly to have been inſtigated by the partizans of the Jacobins, was, as far as it had any decided political character, an efferveſcence of royaliſm.
At Rouen, Abbeville, and other places, the trees of liberty, (or, rather, the trees of the republic,) have been cut down, the tri-coloured flag torn, and the cry of "Vive le Roi!" was for ſome time predominant; yet the ſame miſrepreſentation was had recourſe to, and all theſe places were aſſerted to have eſpouſed the cauſe of that party to which they are moſt repugnant.
I acknowledge that the chief ſource of theſe uſeleſs exceſſes is famine, and that it is for the moſt part the lower claſſes only who promote them; but the ſame cauſe and the ſame deſcription of people were made the inſtruments for bringing about the revolution, and the poor ſeek now, aſ they did in 1789, a remedy for their accumulated ſufferings in a change of government. The maſs of mankind are ever more readily deluded by hope than benefited by experience; and the French, being taught by the revolutioniſts to look for that relief from changes of government which ſuch changes cannot afford, now expect that the reſtoration of the monarchy will produce plenty, as they were before perſuaded that the firſt efforts to ſubvert it would baniſh want.
We are now tolerably quiet, and ſhould ſeriouſly think of going to Paris, were we not apprehenſive that ſome attempt from the Jacobins to reſcue their chiefs, may create new diſturbances. The late affair appears to have been only a retaliation of the thirty-firſt of May, 1792; and the remains of the Girondiſts have now proſcribed the leaders of the Mountaineers, much in the ſame way as they were then proſcribed themſelves.—Yours.
Whilſt all Europe is probably watching with ſolicitude the progreſs of the French arms, and the variations of their government, the French themſelves, almoſt indifferent to war and politics, think only of averting the horrors of famine. The important news of the day is the portion of bread which is to be diſtributed; and the ſiege of Mentz, or the treaty with the King of Pruſſia, are almoſt forgotten, amidſt enquiries about the arrival of corn, and anxiety for the approach of harveſt. The ſame paper that announces the ſurrender of towns, and the ſucceſs of battles, tells us that the poor die in the ſtreets of Paris, or are driven to commit ſuicide, through want. We have no longer to contend with avaricious ſpeculations, but a real ſcarcity; and detachments of the National Guard, reinforced by cannon, often ſearch the adjacent villages ſeveral days ſucceſſively without finding a ſingle ſeptier of corn. The farmers who have yet been able to conceal any, refuſe to diſpoſe of it for aſſignats; and the poor, who have neither plate nor money, exchange their beſt clothes or linen for a loaf, or a ſmall quantity of flour. Our gates are ſometimes aſſailed by twenty or thirty people, not to beg money, but bread; and I am frequently accoſted in the ſtreet by women of decent appearance, who, when I offer them aſſignats, refuſe them, ſaying, "We have enough of this ſorry paper—it is bread we want."—If you are aſked to dine, you take your bread with you; and you travel as though you were going a voyage—for there are not many inns on the road where you can expect to find bread, or indeed proviſions of any kind.
Having procured a few ſix-livre pieces, we were enabled to purchaſe a ſmall ſupply of corn, though by no means enough for our conſumption, ſo that we are obliged to oeconomiſe very rigidly. Mr. D———— and the ſervants eat bread made with three-parts bran to one of flour. The little proviſion we poſſeſs is, however, a great embarraſſment to us, for we are not only ſubject to domiciliary viſits, but continually liable to be pillaged by the ſtarving poor around us; and we are often under the neceſſity of paſſing ſeveral meals without bread, becauſe we dare not ſend the wheat to be ground, nor bake except at night. While the laſt operation is performing, the doors are carefully ſhut, the bell rings in vain, and no gueſt is admitted till every veſtige of it is removed.—All the breweries have ſeals put upon the doors, and ſevere penal laws are iſſued againſt converting barley to any other purpoſe than the making of bread. If what is allowed us were compoſed only of barley, or any other wholeſome grain, we ſhould not repine; but the diſtribution at preſent iſ a mixture of grown wheat, peas, rye, &c. which has ſcarcely the reſemblance of bread.
I was aſked to-day, by ſome women who had juſt received their portion, and in an accent of rage and deſpair that alarmed me, whether I thought ſuch food fit for a human creature.—We cannot alleviate this miſery, and are impatient to eſcape from the ſight of it. If we can obtain paſſportſ to go from hence to Paris, we hope there to get a final releaſe, and a permiſſion to return to England.
My friend Madame de la F———— has left us, and I fear is only gone home to die. Her health was perfectly good when we were firſt arreſted, though vexation, more than confinement, has contributed to undermine it. The revolution had, in various ways, diminiſhed her property; but thiſ ſhe would have endured with patience, had not the law of ſucceſſionſ involved her in difficulties which appeared every day more interminable, and perplexed her mind by the proſpect of a life of litigation and uncertainty. By this law, all inheritances, donations, or bequeſts, ſince the fourteenth of July 1789, are annulled and ſubjected to a general partition among the neareſt relatives. In conſequence, a large eſtate of the Marquiſe's, as well as another already ſold, are to be accounted for, and divided between a variety of claimants. Two of the number being emigrants, the republic is alſo to ſhare; and as the live ſtock, furniture, farming utenſils, and arrears, are included in thiſ abſurd and iniquitous regulation, the confuſion and embarraſſment which it has occaſioned are indeſcribable.
Though an unlucky combination of circumſtances has rendered ſuch a law particularly oppreſſive to Madame de la F————, ſhe is only one of an infinite number who are affected by it, and many of whom may perhaps be ſtill greater ſufferers than herſelf. The Conſtituent Aſſembly had attempted to form a code that might counteract the ſpirit of legal diſputation, for which the French are ſo remarkable; but this ſingle decree will give birth to more proceſſes than all the pandects, canons, and droits feodaux, accumulated ſince the days of Charlemagne; and I doubt, though one half the nation were lawyers, whether they might not find ſufficient employment in demalgamating the property of the other half.
This mode of partition, in itſelf ill calculated for a rich and commercial people, and better adapted to the republic of St. Marino than to that of France, was introduced under pretext of favouring the ſyſtem of equality; and its tranſition from abſurdity to injuſtice, by giving it a retroactive effect, was promoted to accommodate the "virtuouſ" Herault de Sechelles, who acquired a conſiderable addition of fortune by it. The Convention are daily beſet with petitions from all parts on this ſubject; but their followers and themſelves being ſomewhat in the ſtyle of Falſtaff's regiment—"younger ſons of younger brothers," they ſeem determined, as they uſually are, to ſquare their notions of juſtice by what is moſt conducive to their own intereſt.
An apprehenſion of ſome attempt from the Jacobins, and the diſcontentſ which the ſcarcity of bread give riſe to among the people, have produced a private order from the Committees of government for arming and re-organizing the National Guard.*
* Though I have often had occaſion to uſe the term National Guard, it is to be underſtood only as citizens armed for ſome temporary purpoſe, whoſe arms were taken from them as ſoon as that ſervice waſ performed. The Garde Nationale, as a regular inſtitution, had been in a great meaſure ſuppreſſed ſince the ſummer of 1793, and thoſe who compoſed it gradually diſarmed. The uſual ſervice of mounting guard was ſtill continued, but the citizens, with very few exceptions, were armed only with pikes, and even thoſe were not entruſted to their own care, each delivering up his arms when he retired more exactly than if it were an article of capitulation with a ſucceſſful enemy.
—I remember, in 1789 and 1790, when this popular militia was firſt inſtituted, every one, either from policy or inclination, appeared eager to promote it; and nothing was diſcuſſed but military fetes, balls, exerciſe, and uniforms. Theſe patriotic levities have now entirely vaniſhed, and the buſineſs proceeds with languor and difficulty. One dreads the preſent expence, another future perſecution, and all are ſolicitous to find cauſe for exemption.
This reluctance, though perhaps to be regretted, is in a great meaſure juſtifiable. Where the lives and fortunes of a whole nation are dependent on the changes of party, obſcurity becomes the ſureſt protection, and thoſe who are zealous now, may be the firſt ſacrificeſ hereafter. Nor is it encouraging to arm for the defence of the Convention, which is deſpiſed, or to oppoſe the violence of a populace, who, however miſguided, are more objects of compaſſion than of puniſhment.
Fouquier Tinville, with ſixteen revolutionary Judges and Jurymen, have been tried and executed, at the moment when the inſtigators of their crimes, Billaud-Varennes, Collot, &c. were ſentenced by the Convention to a baniſhment, which is probably the object of their wiſhes. Thiſ Tinville and his accomplices, who condemned thouſands with ſuch ferociouſ gaiety, beheld the approach of death themſelves with a mixture of rage and terror, that even cowardice and guilt do not always exhibit. It ſeems an awful diſpenſation of Providence, that they who were inhuman enough to wiſh to deprive their victims of the courage which enabled them to ſubmit to their fate with reſignation, ſhould in their laſt momentſ want that courage, and die deſpairing, furious, and uttering imprecations, which were returned by the enraged multitude.*
—Yours, &c.
* Some of the Jurymen were in the habit of taking caricatures of the priſoners while they condemned them. Among the papers of the Revolutionary Tribunal were found blank ſentences, which were occaſionally ſent to the Committee of Public Safety, to be filled up with the names of thoſe intended to be ſacrificed.—The name of one of the Jurymen executed on this occaſion was Leroi, but being a very ardent republican, he had changed it for that of Citizen Tenth of Auguſt.
Our journey to Paris has been poſtponed by the inſurrection which occurred on the firſt and ſecond of Prairial, (20th and 21ſt of May,) and which was not like that of Germinal, fabricated—but a real and violent attempt of the Jacobins to regain their power. Of this event it is to be remarked, that the people of Paris were at firſt merely ſpectators, and that the Convention were at length defended by the very claſſes which they have ſo long oppreſſed under the denomination of ariſtocrats. For ſeveral hours the Aſſembly was ſurrounded, and in the power of itſ enemies; the head of Ferraud, a deputy, was borne in triumph to the hall;* and but for the impolitic precipitation of the Jacobins, the preſent government might have been deſtroyed.
* The head of Ferraud was placed on a pole, and, after being paraded about the Hall, ſtationed oppoſite the Preſident. It is impoſſible to execrate ſufficiently this ſavage triumph; but ſimilar ſcenes had been applauded on the fourteenth of July and the fifth and ſixth of October 1789; and the Pariſians had learned, from the example of the Convention themſelves, that to rejoice in the daily ſacrifice of fifty or ſixty people, was an act of patriotiſm. As to the epithetſ of Coquin, Scelerats, Voleurs, &c. which were now beſtowed on the Aſſembly, they were only what the members were in the conſtant habit of applying to each other. The aſſaſſin of Ferraud being afterwards taken and ſentenced to the Guillotine, was reſcued by the mob at the place of execution, and the inhabitants of the Fauxbourg St. Antoine were in revolt for two days on this occaſion, nor would they give him up until abandoned by the cannoneers of their party.—It is ſingular, and does no honour to the revolutionary ſchool, or the people of Paris, that Madame Elizabeth, Malſherbes, Cecile Renaud, and thouſands of others, ſhould periſh innocently, and that the only effort of this kind ſhould be exerted in favour of a murderer who deſerved even a worſe death.
The conteſt began, as uſual, by an aſſemblage of females, who forced themſelves into the national palace, and loudly clamoured for immediate ſupplies of bread. They then proceeded to reproach the Convention with having robbed them of their liberty, plundered the public treaſure, and finally reduced the country to a ſtate of famine.*
* People.—"Nous vous demandons ce que vous avez fait de noſ treſors et de notre liberte?"—"We want to know what you have done with our treaſure and our liberty?" Preſident.—"Citoyens, vous etes dans le ſein de la Convention Nationale."—"Citizens, I muſt remind you that you are in the preſence of the National Convention." People.—"Du pain, du pain, Coquin—Qu'as tu fait de notre argent? Pas tant de belles phraſes, mais du pain, du pain, il n'y a point ici de conſpirateurſ—nous demandons du pain parceque nous avonſ ſaim."—"Bread, bread, rogue!—what have you done with our money?— Fine ſpeeches won't do—'tis bread we want.—There are no conſpirators among uſ—we only aſk for bread, becauſe we are hungry." See Debates of the Convention.
—It was not eaſy either to produce bread, or refute theſe charges, and the Deputies of the moderate party remained ſilent and overpowered, while the Jacobins encouraged the mob, and began to head them openly. The Pariſians, however intereſted in the reſult of this ſtruggle, appeared to behold it with indifference, or at leaſt with inactivity. Ferraud had already been maſſacred in endeavouring to repel the croud, and the Convention was abandoned to outrage and inſult; yet no effectual attempt had been made in their defence, until the Deputies of the Mountain prematurely avowed their deſigns, and moved for a repeal of all the doctrines ſince the death of Robeſpierre—for the reincarceration of ſuſpected perſonſ—and, in fine, for an abſolute revival of the whole revolutionary ſyſtem.
The avowal of theſe projects created an immediate alarm among thoſe on whom the maſſacre of Ferraud, and the dangers to which the Aſſembly waſ expoſed, had made no impreſſion. The diſmay became general; and in a few hours the ariſtocrats themſelves collected together a force ſufficient to liberate the Aſſembly,* and wreſt the government from the hands of the Jacobins.—
* This is ſtated as a ground of reproach by the Jacobins, and iſ admitted by the Convention. Andre Dumont, who had taken ſo active a part in ſupporting Robeſpierre's government, was yet on thiſ occaſion defended and protected the whole day by a young man whoſe father had been guillotined.
—This defeat ended in the arreſt of all who had taken a part againſt the now triumphant majority; and there are, I believe, near fifty of them in cuſtody, beſides numbers who contrived to eſcape.*
* Among thoſe implicated in this attempt to revive the revolutionary government was Carnot, and the decree of arreſt would have been carried againſt him, had it not been ſuggeſted that his talents were neceſſary in the military department. All that remained of Robeſpierre's Committees, Jean Bon St. Andre, Robert Lindet, and Prieur, were arreſted. Carnot alone was excepted; and it was not diſguiſed that his utility, more than any ſuppoſed integrity, procured him the exemption.
That the efforts of this more ſanguinary faction have been checked, iſ doubtleſs a temporary advantage; yet thoſe who calculate beyond the moment ſee only the perpetuation of anarchy, in a habit of expelling one part of the legiſlature to ſecure the government of the other; nor can it be denied, that the freedom of the repreſentative body has been as much violated by the Moderates in the recent tranſactions, as by the Jacobinſ on the thirty-firſt of May 1793. The Deputies of the Mountain have been proſcribed and impriſoned, rather as partizans than criminals; and it iſ the opinion of many, that theſe meaſures, which deprive the Convention of ſuch a portion of its members, attach as much illegality to the proceedings of the reſt, as the former violences of Robeſpierre and hiſ faction.*
* The decrees paſſed by the Jacobin members during their few hourſ triumph cannot be defended; but the whole Convention had long acquieſced in them, and the preciſe time when they were to ceaſe waſ certainly a matter of opinion. The greater part of theſe memberſ were accuſed of no active violence, nor could they have been arreſted on any principles but that of being rivals to a faction ſtronger than themſelves.
—It is true, the reigning party may plead in their juſtification that they only inflict what they would themſelves have ſuffered, had the Jacobins prevailed; and this is an additional proof of the weakneſs and inſtability of a form of government which is incapable of reſiſting oppoſition, and which knows no medium between yielding to itſ adverſaries, and deſtroying them.
In a well organized conſtitution, it is ſuppoſed that a liberal ſpirit of party is ſalutary. Here they diſpute the alternatives of power and emolument, or priſons and guillotines; and the ſole reſult to the people is the certainty of being ſacrificed to the fears, and plundered by the rapacity of either faction which may chance to acquire the ſuperiority.— Had the government any permanent or inherent ſtrength, a party watching its errors, and eager to attack them, might, in time, by theſe perpetual colliſions, give birth to ſome principles of liberty and order. But, aſ I have often had occaſion to notice, this ſpecies of republicaniſm is in itſelf ſo weak, that it cannot exiſt except by a conſtant recurrence to the very deſpotiſm it profeſſes to exclude. Hence it is jealous and ſuſpicious, and all oppoſition to it is fatal; ſo that, to uſe an argument ſomewhat ſimilar to Hume's on the liberty of the preſs in republics, the French poſſeſs a ſort of freedom which does not admit of enjoyment; and, in order to boaſt that they have a popular conſtitution, are obliged to ſupport every kind of tyranny.*
* Hume obſerves, that abſolute monarchies and republics nearly approach; for the exceſs of liberty in the latter renders ſuch reſtraints neceſſary as to make them in practice reſemble the former.
The provinces take much leſs intereſt in this event, than in one of a more general and perſonal effect, though not apparently of equal importance. A very few weeks ago, the Convention aſſeverated, in the uſual acclamatory ſtyle, that they would never even liſten to a propoſal for diminiſhing the value, or ſtopping the currency, of any deſcription of aſſignats. Their oaths are not, indeed, in great repute, yet many people were ſo far deceived, as to imagine that at leaſt the credit of the paper would not be formally deſtroyed by thoſe who had forced itſ circulation. All of a ſudden, and without any previous notice, a decree was iſſued to ſuppreſs the corſets, (or aſſignats of five livres,) bearing the King's image;* and as theſe were very numerous, and chiefly in the hands of the lower order of people, the conſternation produced by this meaſure was ſerious and unuſual.—
* The opinion that prevailed at this time that a reſtoration of the monarchy was intended by the Convention, had rendered every one ſolicitous to amaſs aſſignats iſſued during the late King's reign. Royal aſſignats of five livres were exchanged for ſix, ſeven, and eight livres of the republican paper.
—There cannot be a ſtronger proof of the tyranny of the government, or of the national propenſity to ſubmiſſion, than the circumſtance of making it penal to refuſe one day, what, by the ſame authority, is rendered valueleſs the next—and that notwithſtanding this, the remaining aſſignats are ſtill received under all the probability of their experiencing a ſimilar fate.
Paris now offers an interval of tranquillity which we mean to avail ourſelves of, and ſhall, in a day or two, leave this place with the hope of procuring paſſports for England. The Convention affect great moderation and gratitude for their late reſcue; and the people, perſuaded in general that the victorious party are royaliſts, wait with impatience ſome important change, and expect, if not an immediate reſtoration of the monarchy, at leaſt a free election of new Repreſentatives, which muſt infallibly lead to it. With this hope, which is the firſt that has long preſented itſelf to this haraſſed country, I ſhall probably bid it adieu; but a viſit to the metropolis will be too intereſting for me to conclude theſe papers, without giving you the reſult of my obſervations.
—Yours. &c.
We arrived here early on Saturday, and as no ſtranger coming to Paris, whether a native of France, or a foreigner, is ſuffered to remain longer than three days without a particular permiſſion, our firſt care was to preſent ourſelves to the Committee of the ſection where we lodge, and, on giving proper ſecurity for our good conduct, we have had this permiſſion extended to a Decade.
I approached Paris with a mixture of curioſity and apprehenſion, aſ though I expected the ſcenes which had paſſed in it, and the moral changes it had undergone, would be every where viſible; but the gloomy ideas produced by a viſit to this metropolis, are rather the effect of mental aſſociation than external objects. Palaces and public buildingſ ſtill remain; but we recollect that they are become the priſons of miſfortune, or the rewards of baſeneſs. We ſee the ſame hotels, but their owners are wandering over the world, or have expired on the ſcaffold. Public places are not leſs numerous, nor leſs frequented; but, far from inſpiring gaiety, we behold them with regret and diſguſt, aſ proofs of the national levity and want of feeling.
I could almoſt wiſh, for the credit of the French character, to have found ſome indications that the paſt was not ſo ſoon conſigned to oblivion. It is true, the reign of Robeſpierre and his ſanguinary tribunal are execrated in ſtudied phraſes; yet is it enough to adopt humanity as a mode, to ſing the Revel du Peuple in preference to the Marſeillois, or to go to a theatre with a well-powdered head, inſtead of cropped locks a la Jacobin? But the people forget, that while they permitted, and even applauded, the paſt horrors, they were alſo acceſſary to them, and if they rejoice at their termination, their ſenſibility doeſ not extend to compunction; they caſt their ſorrows away, and think it ſufficient to exhibit their reformation in dreſſing and dancing—
|
"Yet hearts refin'd their ſadden'd tint retain,
"The ſigh is pleaſure, and the jeſt is pain." Sheridan. |
French refinements are not, however, of this poetical kind.*
* This too great facility of the Pariſians has been commented upon by an anonymous writer in the following terms: "At Paris, where more than fifty victims were dragged daily to the ſcaffold, the theatres never failed to overflow, and that on the Place de la Revolution was not the leaſt frequented. The public, in their way every evening to the Champs Elliſees, continued uninterruptedly to croſs the ſtream of blood that deluged this fatal ſpot with the moſt dreadful indifference; and now, though theſe dayſ of horror are ſcarcely paſſed over our heads, one would ſuppoſe them ages removed—ſo little are we ſenſible that we are dancing, as it were, on a platform of dead bodies. Well may we ſay, reſpecting thoſe events which have not reached ourſelveſ—
'Le malheur Qui n'eſt plus, n'a jamais exiſte.'
But if we deſire earneſtly that the ſame miſfortunes ſhould not return, we muſt keep them always preſent in our recollection."
The practice of the government appears to depart every day more widely from its profeſſions; and the moderate harangues of the tribune are often ſucceeded by meaſures as arbitrary as thoſe which are ſaid to be exploded.—Perhaps the Convention begin to perceive their miſtake in ſuppoſing that they can maintain a government againſt the inclination of the people, without the aid of tyranny. They expected at the ſame time that they decried Robeſpierre, to retain all the power he poſſeſſed. Hence, their aſſumed principles and their conduct are generally at variance; and, divided between deſpotiſm and weakneſs, they arreſt the printers of pamphlets and newſpapers one day, and are obliged to liberate them the next.—They exclaim publicly againſt the ſyſtem of terror, yet ſecretly court the aſſiſtance of its agents.—They affect to reſpect the liberty of the preſs, yet every new publication has to defend itſelf againſt the whole force of the government, if it happen to cenſure a ſingle member of the reigning party.—Thus, the Memoirs of Dumouriez had circulated nearly through all Europe, yet it was not without much riſk, and after a long warfare, that they were printed in France.*
*On this ſubject the government appears ſometimes to have adopted the maxim—that prevention is better than puniſhment; for, in ſeveral inſtances, they ſeized on manuſcripts, and laid embargoes on the printerſ' preſſes, where they only ſuſpected that a work which they might diſapprove was intended to be publiſhed.
I know not if it be attributable to theſe political inconſiſtencies that the calm which has ſucceeded the late diſorders is little more than external. The minds of the people are uncommonly agitated, and every one expreſſes either hope or apprehenſion of ſome impending event. The royaliſts, amidſt their oſtenſible perſecutions, are particularly elated; and I have been told, that many conſpicuous revolutioniſts already talk of emigration.
I am juſt returned from a day's ramble, during which I have met with various ſubjects of unpleaſant meditation. About dinner-time I called on an old Chevalier de St. Louis and his lady, who live in the Fauxbourg St. Germain. When I knew them formerly, they had a handſome annuity on the Hotel de Ville, and were in poſſeſſion of all the comforts neceſſary to their declining years. To-day the door was opened by a girl of dirty appearance, the houſe looked miſerable, the furniture worn, and I found the old couple over a ſlender meal of ſoup maigre and eggs, without wine or bread. Our revolutionary adventures, as is uſual on all meetings of this kind, were ſoon communicated; and I learned, that almoſt before they knew what was paſſing around them, Monſieur du G————'s forty yearſ' ſervice, and his croix, had rendered him ſuſpected, and that he and hiſ wife were taken from their beds at midnight and carried to priſon. Here they conſumed their ſtock of ready money, while a guard, placed in their houſe, pillaged what was moveable, and ſpoiled what could not be pillaged. Soon after the ninth of Thermidor they were releaſed, but they returned to bare walls, and their annuity, being paid in aſſignats, now ſcarcely affords them a ſubſiſtence.—Monſieur du G———— is near ſeventy, and Madame is become helpleſs from a nervous complaint, the effect of fear and confinement; and if this depreciation of the paper ſhould continue, theſe poor people may probably die of abſolute want.
I dined with a relation of the Marquiſe's, and in the afternoon we called by appointment on a perſon who is employed by the Committee of National Domains, and who has long promiſed my friend to facilitate the adjuſtment of ſome of the various claims which the government has on her property. This man was originally a valet to the brother of the Marquiſe: at the revolution he ſet up a ſhop, became a bankrupt, and a furious Jacobin, and, in the end, a member of a Revolutionary Committee. In the laſt capacity he found means to enrich himſelf, and intimidate his creditorſ ſo as to obtain a diſcharge of his debts, without the trouble of paying them.*
* "It was common for men in debt to procure themſelves to be made members of a revolutionary committee, and then force their creditorſ to give them a receipt in full, under the fear of being impriſoned." Clauzel's Report, Oct. 13, 1794. I am myſelf acquainted with an old lady, who was confined four months, for having aſked one of theſe patriots for three hundred livres which he owed her.
—Since the diſſolution of the Committees, he has contrived to obtain the ſituation I have mentioned, and now occupies ſuperb apartments in an hotel, amply furniſhed with the proofs of his official dexterity, and the perquiſites of patriotiſm.
The humiliating viciſſitudes occaſioned by the revolution induced Madame de la F———— to apply to this democratic parvenu, [Upſtart.] whoſe office at preſent gives him the power, and whoſe former obligations to her family (by whom he was brought up) ſhe hoped would add the diſpoſition, to ſerve her.—The gratitude ſhe expected has, however, ended only in delays and diſappointments, and the ſole object of my commiſſion was to get ſome papers which ſhe had entruſted to him out of his poſſeſſion.
When we enquired if the Citizen was at home, a ſervant, not in livery, informed us Monſieur was dreſſing, but that if we would walk in, he would let Monſieur know we were there. We paſſed through a dining parlour, where we ſaw the remains of a deſſert, coffee, &c. and were aſſailed by the odours of a plentiful repaſt. As we entered the ſaloon, we heard the ſervant call at the door of an adjoining parlour, "Monſieur, voici deux Citoyennes et un Citoyen qui vous demandent." ["Sir, here are two female citizens and one male citizen enquiring for you."] When Monſieur appeared, he apologized with an air of graciouſneſs for the impoſſibility he had been under of getting my friend's affairs arranged—proteſted he was accable [Oppreſſed..]—that he had ſcarcely an inſtant at his own diſpoſal—that enfin the reſponſibility of people in office was ſo terrible, and the fatigue ſo aſſommante, [Overpowering.] that nothing but the pureſt civiſm, and a heart penetre de l'amour de la patrie, [Penetrated with the love of his country.] could enable him to perſevere in the taſk impoſed on him. As for the papers we required, he would endeavour to find them, though his cabinet was really ſo filled with petitions and certificates of all ſorts, que des malheureux lui avoient addreſſes, [Addreſſed to him by unfortunate people.] that it would not be very eaſy to find them at preſent; and, with this anſwer, which we ſhould have ſmiled at from M. de Choiſeul or Sartine, we were obliged to be ſatiſfied. We then talked of the news of the day, and he lamented that the ariſtocrats were ſtill reſtleſs and increaſing in number, and that notwithſtanding the efforts of the Convention to diffuſe a ſpirit of philoſophy, it was too evident there was yet much fanaticiſm among the people.
As we roſe to depart, Madame entered, dreſſed for viſiting, and decorated with bracelets on her wriſts and above her elbows, medallions on her waiſts and neck, and, indeed, finery wherever it could poſſibly be beſtowed. We obſerved her primitive condition of a waiting-woman ſtill operated, and that far from affecting the language of her huſband, ſhe retained a great deference for rank, and was ſolicitous to inſinuate that ſhe was ſecretly of a ſuperior way of thinking. As we left the room together, ſhe made advances to an acquaintance with my companions (who were people of condition); and having occaſion to ſpeak to a perſon at the door, as ſhe uttered the word Citoyen ſhe looked at us with an expreſſion which ſhe intended ſhould imply the contempt and reluctance with which ſhe made uſe of it.
I have in general remarked, that the republicans are either of the ſpecies I have juſt been deſcribing, waiters, jockies, gamblers, bankrupts, and low ſcribblers, living in great ſplendour, or men taken from laborious profeſſions, more ſincere in their principles, more ignorant and brutal—and who diſſipate what they have gained in groſſ luxury, becauſe they have been told that elegance and delicacy are worthy only of Sybarites, and that the Greeks and Romans deſpiſed both. Theſe patriots are not, however, ſo uninformed, nor ſo diſintereſted, as to ſuppoſe they are to ſerve their country without ſerving themſelves; and they perfectly underſtand, that the rich are their legal patrimony, and that it is enjoined them by their miſſion to pillage royaliſts and ariſtocrats.*
—Yours.
* Garat obſerves, it was a maxim of Danton, "Que ceux qui feſaient les affaires de la republique devaient auſſi faireles leurs," that who undertook the care of the republic ſhould alſo take care of themſelves. This tenet, however, ſeems common to the friends of both.
I had ſcarcely concluded my laſt, when I received advice of the death of Madame de la F————; and though I have, almoſt from the time we quitted the Providence, thought ſhe was declining, and that ſuch an event was probable, it has, nevertheleſs, both ſhocked and grieved me.
Excluſively of her many good and engaging qualities, which were reaſonable objects of attachment, Madame de la F———— was endeared to me by thoſe habits of intimacy that often ſupply the want of merit, and make us adhere to our early friendſhips, even when not ſanctioned by our maturer judgment. Madame de la F———— never became entirely diveſted of the effects of a convent education; but if ſhe retained a love of trifling amuſements, and a ſort of infantine gaiety, ſhe likewiſe continued pious, charitable, and ſtrictly attentive not only to the duties, but to the decorum, eſſential in the female character and meritſ of this ſort are, I believe, now more rare than thoſe in which ſhe might be deemed deficient.
I was ſpeaking of her this morning to a lady of our acquaintance, who acquieſced in my friendly eulogiums, but added, in a tone of ſuperiority, "C'etoit pourtant une petite femme bien minutieuſe—ſhe always put me out of patience with her birds and her flowers, her levees of poor people, and her perſevering induſtry in frivolous projects." My friend was, indeed, the moſt feminine creature in the world, and this is a flippant literary lady, who talks in raptures of the Greeks and Romans, calls Rouſſeau familiarly Jean Jaques, friſks through the whole circle of ſcience at the Lyceum, and has an utter contempt both for perſonal neatneſs and domeſtic oeconomy. How would Madame de Sevigne wonder, could ſhe behold one of theſe modern belles eſprits, with which her country, as well as England, abounds? In our zeal for reforming the irregular orthography and houſewifely penmanſhip of the laſt century, we are all become readers, and authors, and critics. I do not aſſert, that the female mind is too much cultivated, but that it is too generally ſo; and that we encourage a taſte for attainments not always compatible with the duties and occupations of domeſtic life. No age has, I believe, produced ſo many literary ladies as the preſent;* yet I cannot learn that we are at all improved in morals, or that domeſtic happineſs is more univerſal than when, inſtead of writing ſonnets to dew-drops or daiſies,** we copied prayers and recipes, in ſpelling ſimilar to that of Stowe or Hollingſhed.
* Let me not be ſuppoſed to undervalue the female authors of the preſent day. There are ſome who, uniting great talents with perſonal worth, are juſtly entitled to our reſpect and admiration. The authoreſs of "Cecilia," or the Miſs Lees, cannot be confounded with the proprietors of all the Caſtles, Foreſts, Groves, Woods, Cottages, and Caverns, which are ſo alluring in the catalogue of a circulating library. ** Mrs. Smith's beautiful Sonnets have produced ſonnetteers for every object in nature, viſible or inviſible; and her elegant tranſlations of Petrarch have procured the Italian bard many an Engliſh dreſs that he would have been aſhamed to appear in.
—We ſeem induſtrious to make every branch of education a vehicle for inſpiring a premature taſte for literary amuſements; and our old faſhioned moral adages in writing-books are replaced by ſcraps from "Elegant Extracts," while print-work and embroidery repreſent ſcenes from poems or novels. I allow, that the ſubjects formerly pourtrayed by the needle were not pictoreſque, yet, the tendency conſidered, young ladieſ might as well employ their ſilk or pencils in exhibiting Daniel in the lionſ' den, or Joſeph and his brethren, as Sterne's Maria, or Charlotte and Werter.
You will forgive this digreſſion, which I have been led into on hearing the character of Madame de la F———— depreciated, becauſe ſhe was only gentle and amiable, and did not read Plutarch, nor hold literary aſſemblies. It is, in truth, a little amende I owe her memory, for I may myſelf have ſometimes eſtimated her too lightly, and concluded my own purſuits more rational than hers, when poſſibly they were only different. Her death has left an impreſſion on my mind, which the turbulence of Paris is not calculated to ſoothe; but the ſhort time we have to ſtay, and the number of people I muſt ſee, oblige me to conquer both my regret and my indolence, and to paſs a great part of the day in running from place to place.
I have been employed all this morning in executing ſome female commiſſions, which, of courſe, led me to milliners, mantua-makers, &c. Theſe people now recommend faſhions by ſaying one thing is invented by Tallien's wife, and another by Merlin de Thionville, or ſome other Deputy's miſtreſs; and the genius of theſe elegantes has contrived, by a mode of dreſſing the hair which lengthens the neck, and by robes with an inch of waiſt, to give their countrywomen an appearance not much unlike that of a Bar Gander.
I ſaw yeſterday a relation of Madame de la F————, who is in the army, and whom I formerly mentioned as having met when we paſſed through Dourlens. He was for ſome months ſuſpended, and in confinement, but iſ now reſtored to his rank, and ordered on ſervice. He aſked me if I ever intended to viſit France again. I told him I had ſo little reaſon to be ſatiſfied with my treatment, that I did not imagine I ſhould.—"Yes, (returned he,) but if the republic ſhould conquer Italy, and bring all its treaſures to Paris, as has lately been ſuggeſted in the Convention, we ſhall tempt you to return, in ſpite of yourſelf."*
*The project of pillaging Italy of its moſt valuable works of art was ſuggeſted by the philoſophic Abbe Gregoire, a conſtitutional Biſhop, as early as September 1794, becauſe, as he alledged, the chefs d'ouvres of the Greek republic ought not to embelliſh a country of ſlaves.
—I told him, I neither doubted their intending ſuch a ſcheme, nor the poſſibility of its ſucceſs, though it was not altogether worthy of philoſophers and republicans to wage war for Venuſ's and Appollos, and to ſacrifice the lives of one part of their fellow-citizens, that the reſt might be amuſed with pictures and ſtatues.—"That's not our affair (ſayſ Monſieur de ————). Soldiers do not reaſon. And if the Convention ſhould have a fancy to pillage the Emperor of China's palace, I ſee no remedy but to ſet ſail with the firſt fair wind,"—"I wiſh, (ſaid hiſ ſiſter, who was the only perſon preſent,) inſtead of being under ſuch orders, you had eſcaped from the ſervice." "Yes, (returned the General quickly,) and wander about Europe like Dumouriez, ſuſpected and deſpiſed by all parties." I obſerved, Dumouriez was an adventurer, and that on many accounts it was neceſſary to guard againſt him. He ſaid, he did not diſpute the neceſſity or even the juſtice of the conduct obſerved towardſ him, but that nevertheleſs I might be aſſured it had operated as an effectual check to thoſe who might, otherwiſe, have been tempted to follow Dumouriez's example; "And we have now (added he, in a tone between gaiety and deſpair,) no alternative but obedience or the guillotine."—I have tranſcribed the ſubſtance of this converſation, as it confirms what I have frequently been told, that the fate of Dumouriez, however merited, is one great cauſe why no deſertion of importance has ſince taken place.
I was juſt now interrupted by a noiſe and ſhouting near my window, and could plainly diſtinguiſh the words Scipio and Solon uttered in a tone of taunt and reproach. Not immediately comprehending how Solon or Scipio could be introduced in a fray at Paris, I diſpatched Angelique to make enquiry; and at her return I learned that a croud of boys were following a ſhoemaker of the neighbourhood, who, while he was member of a revolutionary Committee, had choſen to unite in his perſon the glories of both Rome and Greece, of the ſword and gown, and had taken unto himſelf the name of Scipio Solon. A decree of the Convention ſome weeks ſince enjoined all ſuch heroes and ſages to reſume their original appellations, and forbade any perſon, however ardent his patriotiſm, to diſtinguiſh himſelf by the name of Brutus, Timoleon, or any other but that which he derived from his Chriſtian parents. The people, it ſeems, are not ſo obedient to the decree as thoſe whom it more immediately concerns; and aſ the above-mentioned Scipio Solon had been detected in various larcenies, he is not allowed to quit his ſhop without being reproached with hiſ thefts, and his Greek and Roman appellations.
—I am, &c.
Yeſterday being Sunday, and to-day the Decade, we have had two holidayſ ſucceſſively, though, ſince the people have been more at liberty to manifeſt their opinions, they give a decided preference to the Chriſtian feſtival over that of the republic.*
* This was only at Paris, where the people, from their number, are leſs manageable, and of courſe more courageous. In the departments, the ſame cautious timidity prevailed, and appeared likely to continue.
—They obſerve the former from inclination, and the latter from neceſſity; ſo that between the performance of their religious duties, and the ſacrifice to their political fears, a larger portion of time will be deducted from induſtry than was gained by the ſuppreſſion of the Saintſ' days. The Pariſians, however, ſeem to acquieſce very readily in thiſ compromiſe, and the philoſophers of the Convention, who have ſo often declaimed againſt the idleneſs occaſioned by the numerous fetes of the old calendar, obſtinately perſiſt in the adoption of a new one, which increaſes the evil they pretend to remedy.
If the people are to be taken from their labour for ſuch a number of days, it might as well be in the name of St. Genevieve or St. Denis, aſ of the Decade, and the Saintſ'-days have at leaſt this advantage, that the forenoons are paſſed in churches; whereas the republican feſtivals, dedicated one to love, another to ſtoiciſm, and ſo forth, not conveying any very determinate idea, are interpreted to mean only an obligation to do nothing, or to paſs ſome ſupernumerary hours at the cabaret. [Alehouſe.]
I noticed with extreme pleaſure yeſterday, that as many of the places of public worſhip as are permitted to be open were much crouded, and that religion appears to have ſurvived the loſs of thoſe exterior allurementſ which might be ſuppoſed to have rendered it peculiarly attractive to the Pariſians. The churches at preſent, far from being ſplendid, are not even decent, the walls and windows ſtill bear traces of the Goths (or, if you will, the philoſophers,) and in ſome places ſervice is celebrated amidſt piles of farage, ſacks, caſks, or lumber appertaining to the government—who, though they have by their own confeſſion the diſpoſal of half the metropolis, chooſe the churches in preference for ſuch purpoſes.*
* It has frequently been aſſerted in the Convention, that by emigrations, baniſhments, and executions, half Paris had become the property of the public.
—Yet theſe unſeemly and deſolate appearances do not prevent the attendance of congregations more numerous, and, I think, more fervent, than were uſual when the altars ſhone with the offerings of wealth, and the walls were covered with the more intereſting decorations of pictureſ and tapeſtry.
This it is not difficult to account for. Many who uſed to perform theſe religious duties with negligence, or indifference, are now become pious, and even enthuſiaſtic—and this not from hypocriſy or political contradiction, but from a real ſenſe of the evils of irreligion, produced by the examples and conduct of thoſe in whom ſuch a tendency has been moſt remarkable.—It muſt, indeed, be acknowledged, that did Chriſtianity require an advocate, a more powerful one need not be found, than in a retroſpect of the crimes and ſufferings of the French ſince itſ abolition.
Thoſe who have made fortunes by the revolution (for very few have been able to preſerve them) now begin to exhibit equipages; and they hope to render the people blind to this departure from their viſionary ſyſtems of equality, by foregoing the uſe of arms and liverieſ—as if the real difference between the rich and the poor was not conſtituted rather by eſſential accommodation, than extrinſic embelliſhments, which perhaps do not gratify the eyes of the poſſeſſor a ſecond time, and are, probably of all branches of luxury, the moſt uſeful. The livery of ſervants can be of very little importance, whether morally or politically conſidered—it is the act of maintaining men in idleneſs, who might be more profitably employed, that makes the keeping a great number exceptionable; nor is a man more degraded by going behind a carriage with a hat and feather, than with a bonnet de police, or a plain beaver; but he eats juſt as much, and earns juſt as little, equipped as a Carmagnole, as though glittering in the moſt ſuperb gala ſuit.*
* In their zeal to imitate the Roman republicans, the French ſeem to forget that a political conſideration very different from the love of ſimplicity, or an idea of the dignity of man, made the Romanſ averſe from diſtinguiſhing their ſlaves by any external indication. They were ſo numerous that it was thought impolitic to furniſh them with ſuch means of knowing their own ſtrength in caſe of a revolt.
The marks of ſervice cannot be more degrading than ſervice itſelf; and it is the mere chicane of philoſophy to extend reform only to cuffs and collars, while we do not diſpenſe with the ſervices annexed to them. A valet who walks the ſtreet in his powdering jacket, diſdains a livery aſ much as the fierceſt republican, and with as much reaſon—for there is no more difference between domeſtic occupation performed in one coat or another, than there is between the party-coloured habit and the jacket.
If the luxury of carriages be an evil, it muſt be becauſe the horſeſ employed in them conſume the produce of land which might be more beneficially cultivated: but the gilding, fringe, ſalamanders, and lions, in all their heraldic poſitions, afford an eaſy livelihood to manufacturers and artiſans, who might not be capable of more laboriouſ occupations.
I believe it will generally be found, that moſt of the republican reformſ are of this deſcription—calculated only to impoſe on the people, and diſguiſing, by frivolous prohibitions, their real inutility. The affectation of ſimplicity in a nation already familiarized with luxury, only tends to divert the wealth of the rich to purpoſes which render it more deſtructive. Vanity and oſtentation, when they are excluded from one means of gratification, will always ſeek another; and thoſe who, having the means, cannot diſtinguiſh themſelves by oſtenſible ſplendour, will often do ſo by domeſtic profuſion.*
* "Sectaries (ſays Walpole in his Anecdotes of Painting, ſpeaking of the republicans under Cromwell) have no oſtenſible enjoyments; their pleaſures are private, comfortable and groſs. The arts of civilized ſociety are not calculated for men who mean to riſe on the ruins of eſtabliſhed order." Judging by compariſon, I am perſuaded theſe obſervations are yet more applicable to the political, than the religious opinions of the Engliſh republicans of that period; for, in theſe reſpects, there is no difference between them and the French of the preſent day, though there is a wide one between an Anabaptiſt and the diſciples of Boulanger and Voltaire.
—Nor can it well be diſputed, that a groſs luxury is more perniciouſ than an elegant one; for the former conſumes the neceſſaries of life wantonly, while the latter maintains numerous hands in rendering thingſ valuable by the workmanſhip which are little ſo in themſelves.
Every one who has been a reflecting ſpectator of the revolution will acknowledge the juſtice of theſe obſervations. The agents and retainerſ of government are the general monopolizers of the markets, and theſe men, who are enriched by peculation, and are on all occaſions retailing the cant phraſes of the Convention, on the purete des moeurs republicains, et la luxe de la ci-devant Nobleſſe, [The purity of republican manners, and the luxury of the ci-devant Nobleſſe.] exhibit ſcandalous exceptionſ to the national habits of oeconomy, at a time too when others more deſerving are often compelled to ſacrifice even their eſſential accommodations to a more rigid compliance with them.*
* Lindet, in a report on the ſituation of the republic, declares, that ſince the revolution the conſumption of wines and every article of luxury has been ſuch, that very little has been left for exportation. I have ſelected the following ſpecimens of republican manners, from many others equally authentic, as they may be of ſome utility to thoſe who would wiſh to eſtimate what the French have gained in this reſpect by a change of government. "In the name of the French people the Repreſentatives ſent to Commune Affranchie (Lyons) to promote the felicity of itſ inhabitants, order the Committee of Sequeſtration to ſend them immediately two hundred bottles of the beſt wine that can be procured, alſo five hundred bottles of claret, of prime quality, for their own table. For this purpoſe the commiſſion are authorized to take of the ſequeſtration, wherever the above wine can be found. Done at Commune Affranchie, thirteenth Nivoſe, ſecond year. (Signed) "Albitte, "Fouche, "Deputies of the National Convention."
Extract of a denunciation of Citizen Boiſmartin againſt Citizen Laplanche, member of the National Convention: "The twenty-fourth of Brumaire, in the ſecond year of the republic, the Adminiſtrators of the diſtrict of St. Lo gave orders to the municipality over which I at that time preſided, to lodge the Repreſentative of the people, Laplanche, and General Siphert, in the houſe of Citizen Lemonnier, who was then under arreſt at Thorigni. In introducing one of the founders of the republic, and a French General, into this hoſpitable manſion, we thought to put the property of our fellow-citizen under the ſafeguard of all the virtues; but, alas, how were we miſtaken! They had no ſooner entered the houſe, than the proviſions of every ſort, the linen, clothes, furniture, trinkets, books, plate, carriages, and even title-deeds, all diſappeared; and, as if they purpoſely inſulted our wretchedneſs, while we were reduced to the ſad neceſſity of diſtributing with a parſimonious hand a few ounces of black bread to our fellow-citizens, the beſt bread, pillaged from Citizen Lemonnier, was laviſhed by buckets full to the horſes of General Siphert, and the Repreſentative Laplanche.—The Citizen Lemonnier, who is ſeventy years of age, having now recovered his liberty, which he never deſerved to loſe, finds himſelf ſo entirely deſpoiled, that he is at preſent obliged to live at an inn; and, of property to the amount of ſixty thouſand livres, he has nothing left but a ſingle ſpoon, which he took with him when carried to one of the Baſtilleſ in the department de la Manche." The chief defence of Laplanche conſiſted in allegations that the ſaid Citizen Lemonnier was rich, and a royaliſt, and that he had found emblems of royaliſm and fanaticiſm about the houſe.
At the houſe of one of our common friends, I met ————, and ſo little did I imagine that he had eſcaped all the revolutionary perils to which he had been expoſed, that I could almoſt have ſuppoſed myſelf in the regions of the dead, or that he had been permitted to quit them, for hiſ being alive ſcarcely ſeemed leſs miraculous or incredible. As I had not ſeen him ſince 1792, he gave me a very intereſting detail of hiſ adventures, and his teſtimony corroborates the opinion generally entertained by thoſe who knew the late King, that he had much perſonal courage, and that he loſt his crown and his life by political indeciſion, and an humane, but ill-judged, unwillingneſs to reduce his enemies by force. He aſſured me, the Queen might have been conveyed out of France previous to the tenth of Auguſt, if ſhe would have agreed to leave the King and her children behind; that ſhe had twice conſulted him on the ſubject; but, perſiſting in her reſolution not to depart unaccompanied by her family, nothing practicable could be deviſed, and ſhe determined to ſhare their fate.*
* The gentleman here alluded to has great talents, and iſ particularly well acquainted with ſome of the moſt obſcure and diſaſtrous periods of the French revolution. I have reaſon to believe, whenever it is conſiſtent with his own ſafety, he will, by a genuine relation, expoſe many of the popular falſehoods by which the public have been miſled.
This, as well as many other inſtances of tenderneſs and heroiſm, which diſtinguiſhed the Queen under her miſfortunes, accord but ill with the vices imputed to her; and were not ſuch imputations encouraged to ſerve the cauſe of faction, rather than that of morality, theſe inconſiſtencieſ would have been interpreted in her favour, and candour have palliated or forgotten the levities of her youth, and remembered only the ſorrows and the virtues by which they were ſucceeded.
I had, in compliance with your requeſt on my firſt arrival in France, made a collection of prints of all the moſt conſpicuous actors in the revolution; but as they could not be ſecreted ſo eaſily as other papers, my fears overcame my deſire of obliging you, and I deſtroyed them ſucceſſively, as the originals became proſcribed or were ſacrificed. Deſirous of repairing my loſs, I perſuaded ſome friends to accompany me to a ſhop, kept by a man of whom they frequently purchaſed, and whom, aſ his principles were known to them, I might ſafely aſk for the articles I wanted. He ſhook his head, while he ran over my liſt, and then told me, that having preferred his ſafety to his property, he had diſpoſed of hiſ prints in the ſame way I had diſpoſed of mine. "At the acceſſion of a new party, (continued he,) I always prepare for a domiciliary viſit, clear my windows and ſhelves of the exploded heads, and replace them by thoſe of their rivals. Nay, I aſſure you, ſince the revolution, our trade is become as precarious as that of a gameſter. The Conſtitutionaliſts, indeed, held out pretty well, but then I was half ruined by the fall of the Briſſotins; and, before I could retrieve a little by the Hebertiſts and Dantoniſts, the too were out of faſhion."— "Well, but the Robeſpierrianſ—you muſt have gained by them?"—"Why, true; Robeſpierre and Marat, and Chalier, anſwered well enough, becauſe the royaliſts generally placed them in their houſes to give themſelves an air of patriotiſm, yet they are gone after the reſt.—Here, however, (ſays he, taking down an engraving of the Abbe Sieyes,) is a piece of merchandize that I have kept through all parties, religions, and conſtitutionſ—et le voila encore a la mode, ["And now you ſee him in faſhion again."] mounted on the wrecks, and ſupported by the remnants of both his friends and enemies. Ah! c'eſt un fin matois." ["Ah! He's a knowing one."]
This converſation paſſed in a gay tone, though the man added, very ſeriouſly, that the inſtability of popular factions, and their intolerance towards each other, had obliged him to deſtroy to the amount of ſome thouſand livres, and that he intended, if affairs did not change, to quit buſineſs.
Of all the prints I enquired for, I only got Barrere, Sieyes, and a few others of leſs note. Your laſt commiſſions I have executed more ſucceſſfully, for though the neceſſaries of life are almoſt unpurchaſeable, articles of taſte, books, perfumery, &c. are cheaper than ever. This is unfortunately the reverſe of what ought to be the caſe, but the augmentation in the price of proviſions is to be accounted for in various ways, and that things of the deſcription I allude to do not bear a price in proportion is doubtleſs to be attributed to the preſent poverty of thoſe who uſed to be the purchaſers of them; while the people who are become rich under the new government are of a deſcription to ſeek for more ſubſtantial luxuries than books and eſſences.—I ſhould however obſerve, that the venders of any thing not periſhable, and who are not forced to ſell for their daily ſubſiſtence, are ſolicitous to evade every demand for any article which is to be paid for in aſſignats.
I was looking at ſome trinkets in a ſhop at the Palais Royal, and on my aſking the miſtreſs of it if the ornaments were ſilver, ſhe ſmiled ſignificantly, and replied, ſhe had nothing ſilver nor gold in the ſhop, but if I choſe to purchaſe en eſpece, ſhe would ſhow me whatever I deſired: "Mais pour le papier nous n'en avons que trop." ["In coin, but for paper we have already too much of it."]
Many of the old ſhops are nearly empty, and the little trade which yet exiſts is carried on by a ſort of adventurers who, without being bred to any one trade, ſet up half a dozen, and perhaps diſappear three monthſ afterwards. They are, I believe, chiefly men who have ſpeculated on the aſſignats, and as ſoon as they have turned their capital in a mercantile way a ſhort time, become apprehenſive of the paper, realize it, and retire; or, becoming bankrupts by ſome unlucky monopoly, begin a new career of patriotiſm.
There is, properly ſpeaking, no money in circulation, yet a vaſt quantity is bought and ſold. Annuitants, poſſeſſors of moderate landed property, &c., finding it impoſſible to ſubſiſt on their incomes, are forced to have recourſe to the little ſpecie they have reſerved, and exchange it for paper. Immenſe ſums in coin are purchaſed by the government, to make good the balance of their trade with the neutral countries for proviſions, ſo that I ſhould ſuppoſe, if this continue a few months, very little will be left in the country.
One might be tempted to fancy there is ſomething in the atmoſphere of Paris which adapts the minds of its inhabitants to their political ſituation. They talk of the day appointed for a revolt a fortnight before, as though it were a fete, and the moſt timid begin to be inured to a ſtate of agitation and apprehenſion, and to conſider it as a natural viciſſitude that their lives ſhould be endangered periodically.
A commiſſion has been employed for ſome time in deviſing another new conſtitution, which is to be propoſed to the Aſſembly on the thirteenth of this month; and on that day, it is ſaid, an effort is to be made by the royaliſts. They are certainly very numerous, and the intereſt taken in the young King is univerſal. In vain have the journaliſts been forbidden to cheriſh theſe ſentiments, by publiſhing details concerning him: whatever eſcapes the walls of his priſon is circulated in impatient whiſpers, and requires neither printing nor gazettes a la main to give it publicity.*
* Under the monarchy people diſſeminated anecdotes or intelligence which they did not think it ſafe to print, by means of theſe written gazettes.—I doubt if any one would venture to have recourſe to them at preſent.
—The child is reported to be ill, and in a kind of ſtupefaction, ſo aſ to ſit whole days without ſpeaking or moving: this is not natural at hiſ age, and muſt be the conſequence of neglect, or barbarous treatment.
The Committees of Government, and indeed moſt of the Convention who have occaſionally appeared to give tacit indications of favouring the royaliſts, in order to ſecure their ſupport againſt the Jacobins, having now cruſhed the latter, begin to be ſeriouſly alarmed at the projects of the former.—Seveſtre, in the name of the Committee of Public Safety, has announced that a formidable inſurrection may be expected on the twenty-fifth of Prairial, (thirteenth June,) the Deputies on miſſion are ordered to return, and the Aſſembly propoſe to die under the ruins of the republic. They have, notwithſtanding, judged it expedient to fortify theſe heroic diſpoſitions by the aid of a military force, and a large number of regular troops are in Paris and the environs. We ſhall certainly depart before this menacing epoch: the application for our paſſports was made on our firſt arrival, and Citizen Liebault, Principal of the Office for Foreign Affairs, who is really very civil, has promiſed them in a day or two.
Our journey here was, in fact, unneceſſary; but we have few republican acquaintance, and thoſe who are called ariſtocrats do not execute commiſſion of this kind zealouſly, nor without ſome apprehenſions of committing themſelves.—You will wonder that I find time to write to you, nor do I pretend to aſſume much merit from it. We have not often courage to frequent public places in the evening, and, when we do, I continually dread ſome unlucky accident: either a riot between the Terroriſts and Muſcadins, within, or a military inveſtment without. The laſt time we were at the theatre, a French gentleman, who was our eſcort, entered into a trifling altercation with a rude vulgar-looking man, in the box, who ſeemed to ſpeak in a very authoritative tone, and I know not how the matter might have ended, had not a friend in the next box ſilenced our companion, by conveying a penciled card, which informed him the perſon he was diſputing with was a Deputy of the Convention. We took an early opportunity of retreating, not perfectly at eaſe about the conſequenceſ which might enſue from Mr. ———— having ventured to differ in opinion from a Member of the Republican Legiſlature. Since that time we have paſſed our evenings in private ſocieties, or at home; and while Mr. D———— devours new pamphlets, and Mrs. D———— and the lady we lodge with recount their mutual ſufferings at Arras and St. Pelagie, I take the opportunity of writing.