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.
—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—
"O, ſhame of Gallia, in one ſullen tower
"She wets with royal tears her daily cell;
"She finds keen anguiſh every roſe devour,
"They ſpring, they bloom, then bid the world farewell.
"Illuſtrious mourner! will no gallant mind
"The cauſe of love, the cauſe of juſtice own?
"Such claimſ! ſuch charmſ! And is no life reſign'd
"To ſee them ſparkle from their parent throne?"
|
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.
