Amiens, Jan. 23, 1795.
Nothing proves more that the French republican government was originally founded on principles of deſpotiſm and injuſtice, than the weakneſs and anarchy which ſeem to accompany every deviation from theſe principles. It is ſtrong to deſtroy and weak to protect: becauſe, deriving itſ ſupport from the power of the bad and the ſubmiſſion of the timid, it iſ deſerted or oppoſed by the former when it ceaſes to plunder or oppreſſ— while the fears and habits of the latter ſtill prevail, and render them as unwilling to defend a better ſyſtem as they have been to reſiſt the worſt poſſible.
The reforms that have taken place ſince the death of Robeſpierre, though not ſufficient for the demands of juſtice, are yet enough to relax the ſtrength of the government; and the Jacobins, though excluded from authority, yet influence by the turbulence of their chiefs in the Convention, and the recollection of their paſt tyranny—againſt the return of which the fluctuating politics of the Aſſembly offer no ſecurity. The Committees of Public Welfare and General Safety (whoſe members were intended, according to the original inſtitution, to be removed monthly) were, under Robeſpierre, perpetual; and the union they preſerved in certain points, however unfavourable to liberty, gave a vigour to the government, of which from its conformation it ſhould appear to have been incapable. It is now diſcovered, that an undefined power, not ſubject to the reſtriction of fixed laws, cannot remain long in the ſame hands without producing tyranny. A fourth part of the Members of theſe Committees are, therefore, now changed every month; but thiſ regulation, more advantageous to the Convention than the people, keepſ alive animoſities, ſtimulates ambition, and retains the country in anxiety and ſuſpenſe; for no one can gueſs this month what ſyſtem may be adopted the next—and the admiſſion of two or three new Jacobin memberſ would be ſufficient to excite an univerſal alarm.
We watch theſe renewals with a ſolicitude inconceivable to thoſe who ſtudy politics as they do a new opera, and have nothing to apprehend from the perſonal characters of Miniſters; and our hopes and fears vary according as the members elected are Moderates, Doubtfuls, or decided Mountaineers.*
* For inſtance, Carnot, whoſe talents in the military department obliged the Convention (even if they had not been ſo diſpoſed) to forget his compliances with Robeſpierre, his friendſhip for Barrere and Collot, and his eulogiums on Carrier.
—This mixture of principles, which intrigue, intimidation, or expediency, occaſions in the Committees, is felt daily; and if the languor and verſatility of the government be not more apparent, it iſ that habits of ſubmiſſion ſtill continue, and that the force of terror operates in the branches, though the main ſpring be relaxed. Were armieſ to be raiſed, or means deviſed to pay them now, it could not be done; though, being once put in motion, they continue to act, and the requiſitions ſtill in a certain degree ſupply them.
The Convention, while they have loſt much of their real power, have alſo become more externally contemptible than ever. When they were overawed by the impoſing tone of their Committees, they were tolerably decent; but as this reſtraint has worn off, the ſcandalous tumult of their debateſ increaſes, and they exhibit whatever you can imagine of an aſſemblage of men, moſt of whom are probably unacquainted with thoſe ſalutary formſ which correct the paſſions, and ſoften the intercourſe of poliſhed ſociety. They queſtion each other's veracity with a frankneſs truly democratic, and come fraternally to "Touchſtone's ſeventh remove" at once, without paſſing any of the intermediate progreſſions. It was but lately that one Gaſton advanced with a ſtick in full aſſembly to threſh Legendre; and Cambon and Duhem are ſometimes obliged to be holden by the arms and legs, to prevent their falling on Tallien and Freron. I deſcribed ſcenes of this nature to you at the opening of the Convention; but I aſſure you, the ſilent meditations of the members under Robeſpierre have extremely improved them in that ſpecies of eloquence, which is not ſuſceptible of tranſlation or tranſcription. We may conclude, that theſe licences are inherent to a perfect democracy; for the greater the number of repreſentatives, and the nearer they approach to the maſs of the people, the leſs they will be influenced by ariſtocratic ceremonials. We have, however, no intereſt in diſputing the right of the Convention to uſe violence and laviſh abuſe amongſt themſelves; for, perhaps, theſe ſcenes form the only part of their journals which does not record or applaud ſome real miſchief.
The French, who are obliged to celebrate ſo many aeras of revolution, who have demoliſhed Baſtilles and deſtroyed tyrants, ſeem at this moment to be in a political infancy, ſtruggling againſt deſpotiſm, and emerging from ignorance and barbarity. A perſon unacquainted with the promoterſ and objects of the revolution, might be apt to enquire for what it had been undertaken, or what had been gained by it, when all the manufactured eloquence of Tallien is vainly exerted to obtain ſome limitation of arbitrary impriſonment—when Freron harangues with equal labour and aſ little ſucceſs in behalf of the liberty of the preſs; while Gregoire pleads for freedom of worſhip, Echaſſeriaux for that of commerce, and all the ſections of Paris for that of election.*
* It is to be obſerved, that in theſe orations all the decreeſ paſſed by the Convention for the deſtruction of commerce and religion, are aſcribed to the influence of Mr. Pitt.—"La libertedeſ cultes exiſte en Turquie, elle n'exiſte point en France. Le peuple y eſt prive d'un droit donc on jouit dans les etats deſpotiqueſ memes, ſous les regences de Maroc et d'Algers. Si cet etat de choſes doit perſeverer, ne parlons plus de l'inquiſition, nous en avons perdu le droit, car la liberte des cultes n'eſt que dans leſ decrets, et la perſecution tiraille toute la France. "Cette impreſſion intolerante aurait elle ete (ſuggeree) par le cabinet de St. James?" "In Turkey the liberty of worſhip is admitted, though it does not exiſt in France. Here the people are deprived of a right common to the moſt deſpotic governments, not even excepting thoſe of Algierſ and Morocco.—If things are to continue in this ſtate, let us ſay no more about the Inquiſition, we have no right, for religious liberty is to be found only in our decrees, while, in truth, the whole country is expoſed to perſecution. "May not theſe intolerant notions have been ſuggeſted by the Cabinet of St. James?" Gregoire's Report on the Liberty of Worſhip.
—Thus, after ſo many years of ſuffering, and ſuch a waſte of whatever iſ moſt valuable, the civil, religious, and political privileges of thiſ country depend on a vote of the Convention.
The ſpeech of Gregoire, which tended to reſtore the Catholic worſhip, waſ very ill received by his colleagues, but every where elſe it is read with avidity and applauſe; for, excluſive of its merit as a compoſition, the ſubject is of general intereſt, and there are few who do not wiſh to have the preſent puerile imitations of Paganiſm replaced by Chriſtianity. The Aſſembly liſtened to this tolerating oration with impatience, paſſed to the order of the day, and called loudly for Decades, with celebrations in honour of "the liberty of the world, poſterity, ſtoiciſm, the republic, and the hatred of tyrantſ!" But the people, who underſtand nothing of this new worſhip, languiſh after the ſaints of their anceſtors, and think St. Francois d'Aſſiſe, or St. Francois de Sales, at leaſt as likely to afford them ſpiritual conſolation, as Carmagnoles, political homilies, or paſteboard goddeſſes of liberty.
The failure of Gregoire is far from operating as a diſcouragement to thiſ mode of thinking; for ſuch has been the intolerance of the laſt year, that his having even ventured to ſuggeſt a declaration in favour of free worſhip, is deemed a ſort of triumph to the pious which has revived their hopes. Nothing is talked of but the reſtoration of churches, and reinſtalment of prieſtſ—the ſhops are already open on the Decade, and the decrees of the Convention, which make a principal part of the republican ſervice, are now read only to a few idle children or bare walls. [When the bell toll'd on the Decade, the people uſed to ſay it waſ for La meſſe du Diable—The Devil's maſs.]—My maid told me this morning, as a ſecret of too much importance for her to retain, that ſhe had the promiſe of being introduced to a good prieſt, (un bon pretre, for ſo the people entitle thoſe who have never conformed,) to receive her confeſſion at Eaſter; and the fetes of the new calendar are now jeſted on publicly with very little reverence.
The Convention have very lately decreed themſelves an increaſe of pay, from eighteen to thirty-ſix livres. This, according to the comparative value of aſſignats, is very trifling: but the people, who have ſo long been flattered with the ideas of partition and equality, and are now ſtarving, conſider it as a great deal, and much diſcontent is excited, which however evaporates, as uſual, in the national talent for bon mots. The augmentation, though an object of popular jealouſy, is moſt likely valued by the leading members only as it procures them an oſtenſible means of living; for all who have been on miſſions, or had any ſhare in the government, have, like Falſtaff, "hid their honour in their neceſſities," and have now reſources they deſire to profit by, but cannot decently avow.
The Jacobin party have in general oppoſed this additional eighteen livres, with the hope of caſting an odium on their adverſaries; but the people, though they murmur, ſtill prefer the Moderates, even at the expence of paying the difference. The policy of ſome Deputies who have acquired too much, or the malice of others who have acquired nothing, haſ frequently propoſed, that every member of the Convention ſhould publiſh an account of his fortune before and ſince the revolution. An enthuſiaſtic and acclamatory decree of aſſent has always inſued; but ſomehow prudence has hitherto cooled this warmth before the ſubſequent debate, and the reſolution has never yet been carried into effect.
The crimes of Maignet, though they appear to occaſion but little regret in his colleagues, have been the ſource of conſiderable embarraſſment to them. When he was on miſſion in the department of Vaucluſe, beſideſ numberleſs other enormities, he cauſed the whole town of Bedouin to be burnt, a part of its inhabitants to be guillotined, and the reſt diſperſed, becauſe the tree of liberty was cut down one dark night, while they were aſleep.*
* Maignet's order for the burning of Bedouin begins thus: "Liberte, egalite, au nom du peuple Francaiſ!" He then ſtates the offence of the inhabitants in ſuffering the tree of liberty to be cut down, inſtitutes a commiſſion for trying them, and proceedſ—"It is hereby ordered, that as ſoon as the principal criminals are executed, the national agent ſhall notify to the remaining inhabitants not confined, that they are enjoined to evacuate their dwellings, and take out their effects in twenty-four hours; at the expiration of which he is to commit the town to the flames, and leave no veſtige of a building ſtanding. Farther, it is forbidden to erect any building on the ſpot in future, or to cultivate the ſoil." "Done at Avignon, the 17th Floreal." The decree of the Convention to the ſame effect paſſed about the 1ſt of Floreal. Merlin de Douai, (Miniſter of Juſtice in 1796,) Legendre, and Bourdon de l'Oiſe, were the zealous defenders of Maignet on this occaſion.
—Since the Aſſembly have thought it expedient to diſavow theſe revolutionary meaſures, the conduct of Maignet has been denounced, and the accuſations againſt him ſent to a commiſſion to be examined. For a long time no report was made, till the impatience of Rovere, who iſ Maignet's perſonal enemy, rendered a publication of the reſult diſpenſable. They declared they found no room for cenſure or farther proceedings. This deciſion was at firſt ſtrongly reprobated by the Moderates; but as it was proved, in the courſe of the debate, that Maignet was authorized, by an expreſs decree of the Convention, to burn Bedouin, and guillotine its inhabitants, all parties ſoon agreed to conſign the whole to oblivion.
Our clothes, &c. are at length entirely releaſed from ſequeſtration, and the ſeals taken off. We are indebted for this act of juſtice to the intrigues of Tallien, whoſe belle Eſpagnole is conſiderably intereſted. Tallien's good fortune is ſo much envied, that ſome of the members were little enough to move, that the property of the Spaniſh Bank of St. Charles (in which Madame T——'s is included) ſhould be excepted from the decree in favour of foreigners. The Convention were weak enough to accede; but the exception will, doubtleſs, be over-ruled.
The weather is ſevere beyond what it has been in my remembrance. The thermometer was this morning at fourteen and a half. It is, beſides, potentially cold, and every particle of air is like a dart.—I ſuppoſe you contrive to keep yourſelves warm in England, though it is not poſſible to do ſo here. The houſes are neither furniſhed nor put together for the climate, and we are fanned by theſe congealing winds, aſ though the apertures which admit them were deſigned to alleviate the ardours of an Italian ſun.
The ſatin hangings of my room, framed on canvas, wave with the galeſ lodged behind them every ſecond. A pair of "ſilver cupids, nicely poiſed on their brands," ſupport a wood fire, which it is an occupation to keep from extinguiſhing; and all the illuſion of a gay orange-grove pourtrayed on the tapeſtry at my feet, is diſſipated by a villainous chaſm of about half an inch between the floor and the ſkirting-boards. Then we have ſo many correſponding windows, ſupernumerary doors, "and paſſages that lead to nothing," that all our Engliſh ingenuity in comfortable arrangement iſ baffled.—When the cold firſt became ſo inſupportable, we attempted to live entirely in the eating-room, which is warmed by a poele, or German ſtove, but the kind of heat it emits is ſo depreſſive and relaxing to thoſe who are not inured to it, that we are again returned to our large chimney and wood-fire.—The French depend more on the warmth of their clothing, than the comfort of their houſes. They are all wadded and furred as though they were going on a ſledge party, and the men, in thiſ reſpect, are more delicate than the ladies: but whether it be the conſequence of theſe precautions, or from any other cauſe, I obſerve they are, in general, without excepting even the natives of the Southern provinces, leſs ſenſible of cold than the Engliſh.