—Adieu.

Paris, June 12, 1795.

The hopes and fears, plots and counterplots, of both royaliſts and republicans, are now ſuſpended by the death of the young King. Thiſ event was announced on Tueſday laſt, and ſince that time the minds and converſation of the public have been entirely occupied by it. Latent ſuſpicion, and regret unwillingly ſuppreſſed, are every where viſible; and, in the fond intereſt taken in this child's life, it ſeems to be forgotten that it is the lot of man "to paſs through nature to eternity," and that it was poſſible for him to die without being ſacrificed by human malice.

All that has been ſaid and written on original equality has not yet perſuaded the people that the fate of Kings is regulated only by the ordinary diſpenſations of Providence; and they ſeem to perſiſt in believing, that royalty, if it has not a more fortunate pre-eminence, iſ at leaſt diſtinguiſhed by an unuſual portion of calamities.

When we recollect the various and abſurd ſtories which have been propagated and believed at the death of Monarchs or their offſpring, without even a ſingle ground either political or phyſical to juſtify them, we cannot now wonder, when ſo many circumſtances of every kind tend to excite ſuſpicion, that the public opinion ſhould be influenced, and attribute the death of the King to poiſon. The child is allowed to have been of a lively diſpoſition, and, even long after his ſecluſion from hiſ family, to have frequently amuſed himſelf by ſinging at the window of hiſ priſon, until the intereſt he was obſerved to create in thoſe who liſtened under it, occaſioned an order to prevent him. It is therefore extraordinary, that he ſhould lately have appeared in a ſtate of ſtupefaction, which is by no means a ſymptom of the diſorder he iſ alledged to have died of, but a very common one of opiates improperly adminiſtered.*

* In order to account in ſome way for the ſtate in which the young King had lately appeared, it was reported that he had been in the habit of drinking ſtrong liquors to exceſs. Admitting this to be true, they muſt have been furniſhed for him, for he could have no means of procuring them.—It is not inappoſite to record, that on a petition being formerly preſented to the legiſlature from the Jacobin ſocieties, praying that the "ſon of the tyrant" might be put to death, an honourable mention in the national bulletin waſ unanimouſly decreed!!!

Though this preſumption, if ſupported by the evidence of external appearances, may ſeem but of little weight; when combined with others, of a moral and political nature, it becomes of conſiderable importance. The people, long amuſed by a ſuppoſed deſign of the Convention to place the Dauphin on the throne, were now become impatient to ſee their wiſheſ realized; or, they hoped that a renewal of the repreſentative body, which, if conducted with freedom, muſt infallibly lead to the accompliſhment of this object, would at leaſt deliver them from an Aſſembly which they conſidered as exhauſted in talents and degraded in reputation.—Theſe diſpoſitions were not attempted to be concealed; they were manifeſted on all occaſions: and a general and ſucceſſful effort in favour of the Royal Priſoner was expected to take place on the thirteenth.*

* That there were ſuch deſigns, and ſuch expectations on the part of the people, is indubitable. The following extract, written and ſigned by one of the editors of the Moniteur, is ſufficiently expreſſive of the temper of the public at this period; and I muſt obſerve here, that the Moniteur is to be conſidered as nearly equivalent to an official paper, and is always ſuppoſed to expreſſ the ſenſe of government, by whom it is ſupported and paid, whatever party or ſyſtem may happen to prevail: "Les eſperances les plus folles ſe manifeſtent de toutes parts.— C'eſt a qui jettera plus promptement le maſque—on dirait, a lire les ecrits qui paraiſſent, a entendre les converſations des gens qui ſe croient dans les confidences, que c'en eſt fait de la republique: la Convention, ſecondee, pouſſee meme par le zele et l'energie deſ bons citoyens a remporte une grande victoire ſur les Terroriſtes, ſur les ſucceſſeurs de Robeſpierre, il ſemble qu'elle n'ait pluſ qu'a proclamer la royaute. Ce qui donne lieu a toutes leſ conjectures plus ou moins abſurdes aux quelles chacun ſe livre, c'eſt l'approche du 25 Prairial." (13th June, the day on which the new conſtitution was to be preſented). "The moſt extravagant hopes, and a general impatience to throw off the maſk are manifeſted on all ſides.—To witneſs the publicationſ that appear, and to hear what is ſaid by thoſe who believe themſelves in the ſecret, one would ſuppoſe that it was all over with the republic.—The Convention ſeconded, impelled even, by the good citizens, has gained a victory over the Terroriſts and the ſucceſſors of Robeſpierre, and now it ſhould ſeem that nothing remained to be done by to proclaim royalty—what particularly giveſ riſe to theſe abſurdities, which exiſt more or leſs in the minds of all, is the approach of the 25th Prairial." Moniteur, June 6, 1795.

Perhaps the majority of the Convention, under the hope of ſecuring impunity for their paſt crimes, might have yielded to the popular impulſe; but the government is no longer in the hands of thoſe men who, having ſhared the power of Robeſpierre before they ſucceeded him, might, as Rabaut St. Etienne expreſſed himſelf, "be wearied of their portion of tyranny."*

* -"Je ſuis las de la portion de tyrannie que j'exerce."—-"I am weary of the portion of tyranny which I exerciſe." Rabaut de St. Etienne

—The remains of the Briſſotins, with their newly-acquired authority, have vanity, intereſt, and revenge, to ſatiate; and there is no reaſon to ſuppoſe that a crime, which ſhould favour theſe views, would, in their eſtimation, be conſidered otherwiſe than venial. To theſe are added Sieyes, Louvet, &c. men not only eager to retain their power, but known to have been of the Orleans faction, and who, if they are royaliſts, are not loyaliſts, and the laſt perſons to whoſe care a ſon of Louis the Sixteenth ought to have been intruſted.

At this criſis, then, when the Convention could no longer temporize with the expectations it raiſed—when the government was divided between one party who had depoſed the King to gratify their own ambition, and another who had lent their aſſiſtance in order to facilitate the pretenſions of an uſurper—and when the hopes of the country were anxiouſly fixed on him, died Louis the Seventeenth. At an age which, in common life, iſ perhaps the only portion of our exiſtence unalloyed by miſery, thiſ innocent child had ſuffered more than is often the lot of extended yearſ and mature guilt. He lived to ſee his father ſent to the ſcaffold—to be torn from his mother and family—to drudge in the ſervice of brutality and inſolence—and to want thoſe cares and neceſſaries which are not refuſed even to the infant mendicant, whoſe wretchedneſs contributes to the ſupport of his parents.*

* It is unneceſſary to remind the reader, that the Dauphin had been under the care of one Simon, a ſhoemaker, who employed him to clean his (Simon's) ſhoes, and in any other drudgery of which his cloſe confinement admitted.

—When his death was announced to the Convention, Seveſtre, the reporter, acknowledged that Deſſault, the ſurgeon, had ſome time ſince declared the caſe to be dangerous; yet, notwithſtanding policy as well as humanity required that every appearance of myſtery and harſhneſs ſhould, on ſuch an occaſion, be avoided, the poor child continued to be ſecluded with the ſame barbarous jealouſy—nor was the Princeſs, his ſiſter, whoſe evidence on the ſubject would have been ſo concluſive, ever ſuffered to approach him.

No report of Deſſault's opinion had till now been made public; and Deſſault himſelf, who was an honeſt man, died of an inflammatory diſorder four days before the Dauphin.—It is poſſible, he might have expreſſed himſelf too freely, reſpecting his patient, to thoſe who employed him— his future diſcretion might be doubted—or, perhaps, he was only called in at firſt, that his character might give a ſanction to the future operations of thoſe who were more confided in. But whether this event iſ to be aſcribed to natural cauſes, or to that of opiates, the times and circumſtances render it peculiarly liable to ſuſpicions, and the reputation of thoſe who are involved, is not calculated to repel them. Indeed, ſo conſcious are the advocates of government, that the imputation cannot be obviated by pleading the integrity of the parties, that they ſeem to reſt their ſole defence on the inutility of a murder, which only tranſfers whatever rights the Houſe of Bourbon may be ſuppoſed to poſſeſs, from one branch of it to another. Yet thoſe who make uſe of this argument are well aware of its fallaciouſneſs: the ſhades of political opinion in France are extremely diverſified, and a conſiderable part of the Royaliſts are alſo Conſtitutionaliſts, whom it will require time and neceſſity to reconcile to the emigrant Princes. But the young King had neither enemies nor errorſ—and his claims would have united the efforts and affections of all parties, from the friends of the monarchy, as it exiſted under Louis the Fourteenth, down to the converted Republican, who compromiſes with his principles, and ſtipulates for the title of Perpetual Preſident.

That the removal of this child has been fortunate for thoſe who govern, is proved by the effect: inſurrections are no longer talked of, the royaliſts are confounded, the point of intereſt is no more, and a ſort of deſpondency and confuſion prevails, which is highly favourable to a continuance of the preſent ſyſtem.—There is no doubt, but that when men's minds become more ſettled, the advantage of having a Prince who iſ capable of acting, and whoſe ſucceſs will not be accompanied by a long minority, will conciliate all the reflecting part of the conſtitutional royaliſts, in ſpite of their political objections. But the people who are more under the influence of their feelings, and yield leſs to expediency, may not, till urged by diſtreſs and anarchy, be brought to take the ſame intereſt in the abſent claimant of the throne, that they did in their infant Prince.

It is to be regretted, that an habitual and unconquerable deference for the law which excludes females from the Crown of France, ſhould have ſurvived monarchy itſelf; otherwiſe the tender compaſſion excited by the youth, beauty and ſufferings of the Princeſs, might yet have been the means of procuring peace to this diſtracted country. But the French admire, lament, and leave her to her fate—

How inconſiſtent do we often become through prejudiceſ! The French are at this moment governed by adventurers and courtezanſ—by whatever iſ baſe, degraded, or mean, in both ſexes; yet, perhaps, would they bluſh to ſee enrolled among their Sovereigns an innocent and beautiful Princeſs, the deſcendant of Henry the Fourth.

Nothing ſince our arrival at Paris has ſeemed more ſtrange than the eagerneſs with which every one recounts ſome atrocity, either committed or ſuffered by his fellow-citizens; and all ſeem to conclude, that the guilt or ſhame of theſe ſcenes is ſo divided by being general, that no ſhare of either attaches to any individual. They are never tired of the details of popular or judicial maſſacres; and ſo zealous are they to do the honours of the place, that I might, but for diſinclination on my part, paſs half my time in viſiting the ſpots where they were perpetrated. It was but to-day I was requeſted to go and examine a kind of ſewer, lately deſcribed by Louvet, in the Convention, where the blood of thoſe who ſuffered at the Guillotine was daily carried in buckets, by men employed for the purpoſe.*

* "At the gate of St. Antoine an immenſe aqueduct had been conſtructed for the purpoſe of carrying off the blood that was ſhed at the executions, and every day four men were employed in taking it up in buckets, and conveying it to this horrid reſervoir of butchery." Louvet's Report, 2d May.

—Theſe barbarous propenſities have long been the theme of French ſatyriſts; and though I do not pretend to infer that they are national, yet certainly the revolution has produced inſtances of ferocity not to be paralleled in any country that ever had been civilized, and ſtill leſs in one that had not.*

* It would be too ſhocking, both to decency and humanity, to recite the more ſerious enormities alluded to; and I only add, to thoſe I have formerly mentioned, a few examples which particularly deſcribe the manners of the revolution.— At Metz, the heads of the guillotined were placed on the tops of their own houſes. The Guillotine was ſtationary, fronting the Town-houſe, for months; and whoever was obſerved to paſs it with looks of diſapprobation, was marked as an object of ſuſpicion. A popular Commiſſion, inſtituted for receiving the revolutionary tax at this place, held their meetings in a room hung with ſtripes of red and black, lighted only with ſepulchral lamps; and on the deſk was placed a ſmall Guillotine, ſurrounded by daggers and ſwords. In this vault, and amidſt this gloomy apparatus, the inhabitants of Metz brought their patriotic gifts, (that is, the arbitrary and exorbitant contributions to which they were condemned,) and laid them on the altar of the Guillotine, like the ſacrifice of fear to the infernal deities; and, that the keeping of the whole buſineſſ might be preſerved, the receipts were ſigned with red ink, avowedly intended as expreſſive of the reigning ſyſtem. At Cahors, the deputy, Taillefer, after making a triumphal entry with ſeveral waggons full of people whom he had arreſted, ordered a Guillotine to be erected in the ſquare, and ſome of the priſoners to be brought forth and decorated in a mock coſtume repreſenting Kings, Queens, and Nobility. He then obliged them ſucceſſively to pay homage to the Guillotine, as though it had been a throne, the executioner manoeuvring the inſtrument all the while, and exciting the people to call for the heads of thoſe who were forced to act in this horrid farce. The attempt, however, did not ſucceed, and the ſpectators retired in ſilent indignation. At Laval, the head of Laroche, a deputy of the Conſtituent Aſſembly, was exhibited (by order of Lavallee, a deputy there on miſſion) on the houſe inhabited by his wife.—At Auch, in the department of Gers, d'Artigoyte, another deputy, obliged ſome of the people under arreſt to eat out of a manger.—Borie uſed to amuſe himſelf, and the inhabitants of Niſmes, by dancing what he called a farandole round the Guillotine in his legiſlative coſtume.—The repreſentative Lejeune ſolaced his leiſure hours in beheading animals with a miniature Guillotine, the expence of which he had placed to the account of the nation; and ſo much was he delighted with it, that the poultry ſerved at his table were ſubmitted to its operation, aſ well as the fruits at his deſſert! (Debates, June 1.) But it would be tedious and diſguſting to deſcribe all the menuſ plaiſirſ of theſe founders of the French republic. Let it ſuffice to ſay, that they compriſed whatever is ludicrous, ſanguinary, and licentious, and that ſuch examples were but too ſucceſſful in procuring imitators. At Tours, even the women wore Guillotines in their ears, and it was not unuſual for people to ſeal their letterſ with a ſimilar repreſentation!

We have been once at the theatre ſince the King's death, and the ſtanza of the Reveil du Peuple, [The rouſing of the people.] which contains a compliment to the Convention, was hiſſed pretty generally, while thoſe expreſſing an abhorrence of Jacobiniſm were ſung with enthuſiaſm. But the ſincerity of theſe muſical politics is not always to be relied on: a popular air is caught and echoed with avidity; and whether the words be "Peuple Francais, peuple de Freres," ["Brethren."]—or "Danſons la Guillotine," the expreſſion with which it is ſung is not very different. How often have the theatres reſounded with "Dieu de clemence et de juſtice." ["God of mercy and juſtice."] and "Liberte, Liberte, cherie!" ["Liberty, beloved Liberty!"] while the inſtrument of death waſ in a ſtate of unceaſing activity—and when the auditors, who joined in theſe invocations to Liberty, returned to their homes trembling, leſt they ſhould be arreſted in the ſtreet, or find a mandate or guard at their own houſes.*

* An acquaintance of mine told me, that he was one evening in company at Dijon, where, after ſinging hymns to liberty in the moſt energetic ſtyle, all the party were arreſted, and betook themſelveſ as tranquilly to priſon, as though the name of liberty had been unknown to them. The municipality of Dijon commonly iſſued their writs of arreſt in this form—"Such and ſuch a perſon ſhall be arreſted, and his wife, if he has one!"

—At preſent, however, the Pariſians really ſing the Reveil from principle, and I doubt if even a new and more agreeable air in the Jacobin intereſt would be able to ſupplant it.

We have had our permiſſion to remain here extended to another Decade; but Mr. D———, who declares, ten times in an hour, that the French are the ſtrangeſt people on earth, beſides being the moſt barbarous and the moſt frivolous, is impatient to be gone; and as we now have our paſſports, I believe we ſhall depart the middle of next week.

—Yours.

Paris, June 15, 1795.

I am now, after a reſidence of more than three years, amidſt the chaos of a revolution, on the eve of my departure from France. Yet, while I joyfully prepare to reviſit my own country, my mind involuntarily traceſ the rapid ſucceſſion of calamities which have filled this period, and dwells with painful contemplation on thoſe changes in the morals and condition of the French people that ſeem hitherto to be the only fruitſ which they have produced. In this recurrence to the paſt, and eſtimation of the preſent, however we may regret the perſecution of wealth, the deſtruction of commerce, and the general oppreſſion, the moſt important and irretrievable miſchief of the revolution is, doubtleſs, the corruption of manners introduced among the middle and lower claſſes of the people.

The labouring poor of France have often been deſcribed as frugal, thoughtleſs, and happy, earning, indeed, but little, yet ſpending ſtill leſs, and in general able to procure ſuch a ſubſiſtence as their habitſ and climate rendered agreeable and ſufficient.*

* Mr. Young ſeems to have been perſuaded, that the common people of France worked harder, and were worſe fed, than thoſe of the ſame deſcription in England. Yet, as far as I have had opportunity of obſerving, and from the information I have been able to procure, I cannot help ſuppoſing that this gentleman has drawn his inference partially, and that he has often compared ſome particular caſe of diſtreſs, with the general ſituation of the peaſantry in the rich counties, which are the ſcene of his experiments. The peaſantry of many diſtant parts of England fare as coarſely, and labour harder, than was common in France; and taking their habits of frugality, their diſpoſition to be ſatiſfied, and their climate into the account, the ſituation of the French perhaps was preferable. Mr. Young's Tour has been quoted very triumphantly by a Noble Lord, particularly a paſſage which laments and aſcribes to political cauſes the appearance of premature old age, obſervable in French women of the lower claſſes. Yet, for the ſatiſfaction of hiſ Lordſhip's benevolence and gallantry, I can aſſure him, that the female peaſants in France have not more laborious occupations than thoſe of England, but they wear no ſtays, and expoſe themſelves to all weathers without hats; in conſequence, loſe their ſhape, tan their complexions, and harden their features ſo as to look much older than they really are.—Mr. Young's book is tranſlated into French, and I have too high an opinion both of his principles and his talents to doubt that he muſt regret the ill effects it may have had in France, and the uſe that has been made of it in England.

—They are now become idle, profuſe, and gloomy; their poverty iſ embittered by fanciful claims to riches and a taſte for expence. They work with deſpair and unwillingneſs, becauſe they can no longer live by their labour; and, alternately the victims of intemperance or want, they are often to be found in a ſtate of intoxication, when they have not been able to ſatiſfy their hunger—for, as bread cannot always be purchaſed with paper, they procure a temporary ſupport, at the expence of their health and morals, in the deſtructive ſubſtitute of ſtrong liquors.

Thoſe of the next claſs, ſuch as working tradeſmen, artizans, and domeſtic ſervants, though leſs wretched, are far more diſſolute; and it is not uncommon in great towns to ſee men of this deſcription unite the ferociouſneſs of ſavages with all the vices of ſyſtematic profligacy. The original principles of the revolution, of themſelves, naturally tended to produce ſuch a depravation; but the ſuſpenſion of religiouſ worſhip, the conduct of the Deputies on miſſion, and the univerſal immorality of the exiſting government, muſt have conſiderably haſtened it. When the people were forbidden the exerciſe of their religion, though they did not ceaſe to be attached to it, yet they loſt the good effects which even external forms alone are calculated to produce; and while deiſm and atheiſm failed in perverting their faith, they were but too ſucceſſful in corrupting their morals.

As in all countries the reſtraints which religion impoſes are more readily ſubmitted to by the inferior ranks of life, it is theſe which muſt be moſt affected by its abolition; and we cannot wonder, that when men have been once accuſtomed to neglect the duty they conſider as moſt eſſential, they ſhould in time become capable of violating every other: for, however it may be among the learned, qui ſ'aveuglent a force de lumiere, [Who blind themſelves by exceſs of light. Deſtouchet.] with the ignorant the tranſition from religious indifference to actual vice iſ rapid and certain.

The Miſſionaries of the Convention, who for two years extended their deſtructive depredations over the departments, were every where guilty of the moſt odious exceſſes, and thoſe leaſt culpable offered examples of licentiouſneſs and intemperance with which, till then, the people had never been familiar.*

* "When the Convention was elected, (ſays Durand Maillane, ſee Report of the Committee of Legiſlation, 13th Prairial, 1ſt June,) the choice fell upon men who abuſed the name of patriot, and adopted it as a cloak for their vices.—Vainly do we inculcate juſtice, and expect the Tribunals will bring thieves and aſſaſſins to puniſhment, if we do not puniſh thoſe amongſt ourſelves.—Vainly ſhall we talk of republican manners and democratic government, while our repreſentatives carry into the departments examples of deſpotiſm and corruption." The conduct of theſe civilized banditti has been ſufficiently deſcribed. Allard, Lacoſte, Mallarme, Milhaud, Laplanche, Moneſtier, Guyardin, Sergent, and many others, were not only ferocious and extravagant, but known to have been guilty of the meaneſt thefts. Javoques is alledged to have ſacrificed two hundred people of Montibriſon, and to have ſtolen a vaſt quantity of their effects. It was common for him to ſay, that he acknowledged as true patriots thoſe only who, like himſelf, "etaient capables de boire une verre de ſang,"—("were capable of drinking a glaſs of blood.") D'Artigoyte diſtinguiſhed himſelf by ſuch ſcandalous violations of morals and decency, that they are not fit to be recited. He often obliged married women, by menaces, to bring their daughters to the Jacobin clubs, for the purpoſe of inſulting them with the groſſeſt obſcenities.—Having a project of getting up a play for hiſ amuſement, he cauſed it to be declared, that thoſe who had any talents for acting, and did not preſent themſelves, ſhould be impriſoned as ſuſpects. And it is notorious, that this ſame Deputy once inſulted all the women preſent at the theatre, and, after uſing the moſt obſcene language for ſome time, concluded by ſtripping himſelf entirely in preſence of the ſpectators. Report of the Committee of Legiſlation, 13th Prairial (1ſt of June). Lacoſte and Baudet, when they were on miſſion at Straſburgh, lived in daily riot and intoxication with the members of the Revolutionary Tribunal, who, after qualifying themſelves in theſe orgies, proceeded to condemn all the priſoners brought before them.—During the debate following the above quoted report, Dentzel accuſed Lacoſte, among other larcenies, of having purloined ſome ſhirtſ belonging to himſelf; and addreſſing Lacoſte, who was preſent in the Aſſembly, with true democratic frankneſs, adds, "Je ſuis ſur qu'il en a une ſur le corps."—("I am certain he has one of them on at this moment.") Debate, 1ſt of June. The following is a tranſlation of a letter from Piorry, Repreſentative of the People, to the popular ſociety of Poitiers:— "My honeſt and determined Sans Culottes, as you ſeemed to deſire a Deputy amongſt you who has never deviated from the right principles, that is to ſay, a true Mountaineeer, I fulfil your wiſhes in ſending you the Citizen Ingrand.—Remember, honeſt and determined Sanſ Culottes, that with the ſanction of the patriot Ingrand, you may do every thing, obtain every thing, deſtroy every thing—impriſon all, try all, tranſport all, or guillotine all. Don't ſpare him a moment; and thus, through his means, all may tremble, every thing be ſwept away, and, finally, be re-eſtabliſhed in laſting order. (Signed) "Piorry." The gentleman who tranſlated the above for me, ſubjoined, that he had omitted various oaths too bad for tranſlation.—This Piorry always attended the executions, and as faſt as a head fell, uſed to wave his hat in the air, and cry, "Vive la Republique!" Such are the founders of the French Republic, and ſuch the means by which it has been ſupported!

—It may be admitted, that the lives of the higher Nobleſſe were not always edifying; but if their diſſipation was public, their vices were leſs ſo, and the ſcenes of both were for the moſt part confined to Paris. What they did not practiſe themſelves, they at leaſt did not diſcourage in others; and though they might be too indolent to endeavour at preſerving the morals of their dependents, they knew their own intereſt too well to aſſiſt in depraving them.

But the Repreſentatives, and their agents, are not to be conſidered merely as individuals who have corrupted only by example;—they were armed with unlimited authority, and made proſelytes through fear, where they failed to produce them from inclination. A contempt for religion or decency has been conſidered as the teſt of an attachment to the government; and a groſs infraction of any moral or ſocial duty as a proof of civiſm, and a victory over prejudice. Whoever dreaded an arreſt, or courted an office, affected profaneneſs and profligacy—and, doubtleſs, many who at firſt aſſumed an appearance of vice from timidity, in the end contracted a preference for it. I myſelf know inſtances of ſeveral who began by deploring that they were no longer able to practiſe the dutieſ of their religion, and ended by ridiculing or fearing them. Induſtriouſ mechanics, who uſed to go regularly to maſs, and beſtow their weekly liard on the poor, after a month's revolutioniſing, in the ſuite of a Deputy, have danced round the flames which conſumed the ſacred writings, and become as licentious and diſhoneſt as their leader.

The general principles of the Convention have been adapted to ſanction and accelerate the labours of their itinerant colleagues. The ſentenceſ of felons were often reverſed, in conſideration of their "patriotiſm"— women of ſcandalous lives have been penſioned, and complimented publicly —and various decrees paſſed, all tending to promote a national diſſoluteneſs of manners.*

* Among others, a decree which gave all illegitimate children a claim to an equal participation in the property of the father to whom they ſhould (at the diſcretion of the mother) be attributed.

—The evil propenſities of our nature, which penal laws and moraliſtſ vainly contend againſt, were foſtered by praiſe, and ſtimulated by reward—all the eſtabliſhed diſtinctions of right and wrong confounded— and a ſyſtem of revolutionary ethics adopted, not leſs incompatible with the happineſs of mankind than revolutionary politics.

Thus, all the purpoſes for which this general demoralization waſ promoted, being at length attained, thoſe who were rich having been pillaged, thoſe who were feared maſſacred, and a croud of needy and deſperate adventurers attached to the fate of the revolution, the expediency of a reform has lately been ſuggeſted. But the miſchief iſ already irreparable. Whatever was good in the national character iſ vitiated; and I do not ſcruple to aſſert, that the revolution has both deſtroyed the morals of the people, and rendered their condition leſſ happy*—that they are not only removed to a greater diſtance from the poſſeſſion of rational liberty, but are become more unfit for it than ever.

* It has been aſſerted, with a view to ſerve the purpoſes of party, that the condition of the lower claſſes in France was mended by the revolution. If thoſe who advance this were not either partial or ill-informed, they would obſerve that the largeſſes of the Convention are always intended to palliate ſome miſery, the conſequence of the revolution, and not to baniſh what is ſaid to have exiſted before. For the moſt part, theſe philanthropic projects are never carried into effect, and when they are, it is to anſwer political purpoſes.—For inſtance, many idle people are kept in pay to applaud at the debates and executions, and aſſignats are diſtributed to thoſe who have ſons ſerving in the army. The tendency of both theſe donations needs no comment. The laſt, which is the moſt ſpecious, only affords a means of temporary profuſion to people whoſe children are no incumbrance to them, while ſuch as have numerous and helpleſs families, are left without aſſiſtance. Even the pooreſt people now regard the national paper with contempt; and, perſuaded it muſt ſoon be of no value, they eagerly ſquander whatever they receive, without care for the future.

As I have frequently, in the courſe of theſe letters, had occaſion to quote from the debates of the Convention, and other recent publications, I ought to obſerve that the French language, like every thing elſe in the country, has been a ſubject of innovation—new words have been invented, the meaning of old ones has been changed, and a ſort of jargon, compounded of the appropriate terms of various arts and ſciences, introduced, which habit alone can render intelligible. There is ſcarcely a report read in the Convention that does not exhibit every poſſible example of the Bathos, together with more conceits than are to be found in a writer of the ſixteenth century; and I doubt whether any of their projects of legiſlation or finance would be underſtood by Monteſquieu or Colbert.

But the ſtyle moſt difficult to be comprehended by foreigners, is that of the newſpapers; for the dread of offending government ſo entirely poſſeſſes the imagination of thoſe who compoſe ſuch publications, that it is not often eaſy to diſtinguiſh a victory from a defeat, by the language in which it is conveyed. The common news of the day is worded aſ cautiouſly as though it were to be the ſubject of judicial diſquiſition; and the real tendency of an article is ſometimes ſo much at variance with its comment, that the whole, to a curſory peruſer, may ſeem deſtitute of any meaning at all. Time, however, has produced a ſort of intelligence between news-writers and their readerſ—and rejoicings, lamentations, praiſe, or cenſure, are, on particular occaſions, underſtood to convey the reverſe of what they expreſs.

The affected moderation of the government, and the aſcendency which ſome of the Briſſotin party are beginning to take in it, ſeem to flatter the public with the hope of peace. They forget that theſe men were the authors of the war, and that a few months impriſonment has neither expiated their crimes, nor ſubdued their ambition. It is the great advantage of the Briſſotins, that the revolutionary tyranny which they had contributed to eſtabliſh, was wreſted from them before it had taken its full effect; but thoſe who appreciate their original claims, without regard to their ſufferings under the perſecution of a party, are diſpoſed to expect they will not be leſs tenacious of power, nor leſs arbitrary in the exerciſe of it than any of the intervening factions. The preſent government is compoſed of ſuch diſcordant elements, that their very union betrays that they are in fact actuated by no principle, except the general one of retaining their authority. Lanjuinais, Louvet, Saladin, Danou, &c. are now leagued with Tallien, Freron, Dubois de Crance, and even Carnot.

At the head of this motley aſſemblage of Briſſotins, Orleaniſts, and Robeſpierrians, is Sieyeſ—who, with perhaps leſs honeſty, though more cunning, than either, deſpiſes and dupes them all. At a moment when the Convention had fallen into increaſed contempt, and when the public affairs could no longer be conducted by fabricators of reports and framers of decrees, the talents of this ſiniſter politician became neceſſary; yet he enjoys neither the confidence of his colleagues nor that of the people—the vanity and duplicity of his conduct diſguſt and alarm the firſt, while his reputation of partizan of the Duke of Orleanſ is a reaſon for ſuſpicion in the latter. But if Sieyes has never been able to conciliate eſteem, nor attain popularity, he has at length poſſeſſed himſelf of power, and will not eaſily be induced to relinquiſh it.—Many are of opinion, that he is ſecretly machinating for the ſon of his former patron; but whether he means to govern in the name of the Duke of Orleans, or in that of the republic, it is certain, had the French any liberty to loſe, it never could have found a more ſubtle and dangerouſ enemy.*

* The Abbe, in his "notices ſur la Vie de Sieyes," declares that his contempt and deteſtation of the colleagues "with whom hiſ unfortunate ſtars had connected him," were ſo great, that he determined, from his firſt arrival at the Convention, to take no part in public affairs. As theſe were his original ſentiments of the Aſſembly, perhaps he may hereafter explain by which of their operations his eſteem was ſo much reconciled, that he haſ condeſcended to become their leader.

Paris may, without exaggeration, be deſcribed as in a ſtate of famine. The markets are ſcantily ſupplied, and bread, except the little diſtributed by order of the government, not to be obtained: yet the inhabitants, for the moſt part, are not turbulent—they have learned too late, that revolutions are not the ſource of plenty, and, though they murmur and execrate their rulers, they abſtain from violence, and ſeem rather inclined to yield to deſpair, than to ſeek revenge. This is one proof, among a variety of others, that the deſpotiſm under which the French have groaned for the laſt three years, has much ſubdued the vivacity and impatience of the national character; for I know of no period in their hiſtory, when ſuch a combination of perſonal ſuffering and political diſcontent, as exiſts at preſent, would not have produced ſome ſerious convulſion.

Amiens, June 18, 1795.

We returned hither yeſterday, and on Friday we are to proceed to Havre, accompanied by an order from the Committee of Public Welfare, ſtating that ſeveral Engliſh families, and ourſelves among the number, have been for ſome time a burthen on the generoſity of the republic, and that for this reaſon we are permitted to embark as ſoon as we can find the means. This is neither true, nor very gallant; but we are too happy in quitting the republic, to cavil about terms, and would not exchange our pauper-like paſſports for a conſignment of all the national domains.

I have been buſy to-day in collecting and diſpoſing of my papers, and though I have taken infinite pains to conceal them, their bulk is ſo conſiderable, that the conveyance muſt be attended with riſk. While I was thus employed, the caſual peruſal of ſome paſſages in my letters and notes has led me to conſider how much my ideas of the French character and manners differ from thoſe to be found in the generality of modern travels. My opinions are not of importance enough to require a defence; and a conſciouſneſs of not having deviated from truth makes me ſtill more averſe from an apology. Yet as I have in ſeveral inſtances varied from authorities highly reſpectable, it may not be improper to endeavour to account for what has almoſt the appearance of preſumption.

If you examine moſt of the publications deſcribing foreign countries, you will find them generally written by authors travelling either with the eclat of birth and riches, or, profeſſionally, as men of ſcience or letters. They ſcarcely remain in any place longer than ſuffices to view the churches, and to deliver their letters of recommendation; or, if their ſtay be protracted at ſome capital town, it is only to be feted from one houſe to another, among that claſs of people who are every where alike. As ſoon as they appear in ſociety, their reputation as authorſ ſets all the national and perſonal vanity in it afloat. One is polite, for the honour of his country—another is brilliant, to recommend himſelf; and the traveller cannot aſk a queſtion, the anſwer to which iſ not intended for an honourable inſertion in his repertory of future fame.

In this manner an author is paſſed from the literati and faſhionable people of one metropolis to thoſe of the next. He goes poſt through ſmall towns and villages, ſeldom mixes with every-day life, and muſt in a great degree depend for information on partial enquiries. He ſees, as it were, only the two extremes of human condition—the ſplendour of the rich, and the miſery of the poor; but the manners of the intermediate claſſes, which are leſs obtruſive, are not within the notice of a temporary reſident.

It is not therefore extraordinary, that I, who have been domeſticated ſome years in France, who have lived among its inhabitants without pretenſions, and ſeen them without diſguiſe, ſhould not think them quite ſo polite, elegant, gay, or ſuſceptible, as they endeavour to appear to the viſitant of the day. Where objects of curioſity only are to be deſcribed, I know that a vaſt number may be viewed in a very rapid progreſs; yet national character, I repeat, cannot be properly eſtimated but by means of long and familiar intercourſe. A perſon who is every where a ſtranger, muſt ſee things in their beſt dreſs; being the object of attention, he is naturally diſpoſed to be pleaſed, and many circumſtances both phyſical and moral are paſſed over as novelties in this tranſient communication, which might, on repetition, be found inconvenient or diſguſting. When we are ſtationary, and ſurrounded by our connections, we are apt to be difficult and ſplenetic; but a literary traveller never thinks of inconvenience, and ſtill leſs of being out of humour—curioſity reconciles him to the one, and his fame ſo ſmooths all his intercourſe, that he has no plea for the other.

It is probably for theſe reaſons that we have ſo many panegyriſts of our Gallic neighbours, and there is withal a certain faſhion of liberality that has lately prevailed, by which we think ourſelves bound to do them more than juſtice, becauſe they [are] our political enemies. For my own part, I confeſs I have merely endeavoured to be impartial, and have not ſcrupled to give a preference to my own country where I believed it waſ due. I make no pretenſions to that ſort of coſmopolitaniſm which iſ without partialities, and affects to conſider the Chicktaw or the Tartarſ of Thibet, with the ſame regard as a fellow-countryman. Such univerſal philanthropiſts, I have often ſuſpected, are people of very cold hearts, who fancy they love the whole world, becauſe they are incapable of loving any thing in it, and live in a ſtate of "moral vagabondage," (as it iſ happily termed by Gregoire,) in order to be exempted from the ties of a ſettled reſidence. "Le coſmopolytiſme de ſyſteme et de fait n'eſt qu'un vagabondage phyſique ou moral: nous devons un amour de preference a la ſociete politique dont nous ſommes membres." ["Coſmopolytiſm, either in theory or in practice, is no better than a moral or phyſical vagrancy: the political ſociety of which we are members, is entitled to a preference in our affections."]

Let it not be imagined, that, in drawing compariſons between France and England, I have been influenced by perſonal ſuffering or perſonal reſentment. My opinions on the French characters and manners were formed before the revolution, when, though my judgment might be deficient, my heart was warm, and my mind unprejudiced; yet whatever credit may be allowed to my general opinions, thoſe which particularly apply to the preſent ſituation and temper of the French will probably be diſputed. When I deſcribe the immenſe majority of the nation as royaliſts, hating their government, and at once indignant and ſubmiſſive, thoſe who have not ſtudied the French character, and the progreſs of the revolution, may ſuſpect my veracity. I can only appeal to facts. It is not a new event in hiſtory for the many to be ſubdued by the few, and this ſeems to be the only inſtance in which ſuch a poſſibility has been doubted.*

* It is admitted by Briſſot, who is in this caſe competent authority, that about twenty factious adventurers had oppreſſed the Convention and the whole country. A more impartial calculator would have been leſs moderate in the number, but the fact is the ſame; and it would be difficult to fix the period when this oppreſſion ceaſed.

—The well-meaning of all claſſes in France are weak, becauſe they are divided; while the ſmall, but deſperate factions that oppreſs them, are ſtrong in their union, and in the poſſeſſion of all the reſources of the country.

Under theſe circumſtances, no ſucceſſful effort can be made; and I have collected from various ſources, that the general idea of the French at preſent is, to wait till the new conſtitution appears, and to accept it, though it ſhould be even more anarchical and tyrannic than the laſt. They then hope that the Convention will reſign their power without violence, that a new election of repreſentatives will take place, and that thoſe repreſentatives, who they intend ſhall be men of honeſty and property, will reſtore them to the bleſſings of a moderate and permanent government.

—Yours.

Havre, June 22, 1795.

We are now in hourly expectation of ſailing for England: we have agreed with the Captain of a neutral veſſel, and are only waiting for a propitious wind. This good ally of the French ſeems to be perfectly ſenſible of the value of a conveyance out of the republic, and accordingly we are to pay him about ten times more for our paſſage than he would have aſked formerly. We choſe this port in preference to Calaiſ or Boulogne, becauſe I wiſhed to ſee my friend Madame de ——— at Rouen, and leave Angelique with her relations, who live there.

I walked this morning to the harbour, and ſeeing ſome flat-bottomed boatſ conſtructing, aſked a French gentleman who accompanied me, perhaps a little triumphantly, if they were intended for a deſcent on the Engliſh coaſt. He replied, with great compoſure, that government might deem it expedient (though without any views of ſucceeding) to ſacrifice ten or twenty thouſand men in the attempt.—It is no wonder that governments, accountable for the lives and treaſure they riſk, are ſcarcely equal to a conflict ſuſtained by ſuch power, and conducted on ſuch principles.—But I am wearied and diſguſted with the contemplation of this deſpotiſm, and I return to my country deeply and gratefully impreſſed with a ſenſe of the bleſſings we enjoy in a free and happy conſtitution.

—I am, &c.

FINIS.