Amiens. [No date given.]
I do not yet venture to correſpond with my Paris friends by the poſt, but whenever the opportunity of private conveyance occurs, I receive long and circumſtantial letters, as well as packets, of all the publications moſt read, and the theatrical pieces moſt applauded. I have lately drudged through great numbers of theſe laſt, and beſtowed on them an attention they did not in themſelves deſerve, becauſe I conſidered it as one meanſ of judging both of the ſpirit of the government and the morals of the people.
The dramas produced at the beginning of the revolution were in general calculated to corrupt the national taſte and morals, and many of them were written with ſkill enough to anſwer the purpoſe for which they were intended; but thoſe that have appeared during the laſt two years, are ſo ſtupid and ſo depraved, that the circumſtance of their being tolerated even for a moment implies an extinction both of taſte and of morals.*
* "Dans l'eſpace d'un an ils ont failli detruire le produit de pluſieurs ſiecles de civilization."—("In the ſpace of a year they nearly deſtroyed the fruits of ſeveral ages of civilization.")
The principal cauſe of this is the deſpotiſm of the government in making the ſtage a mere political engine, and ſuffering the performance of ſuch pieces only as a man of honeſty or genius would not ſubmit to write.*
* The tragedy of Brutus was interdicted on account of theſe two lines:
|
"Arreter un romain ſur de ſimple ſoupcons, "C'eſt agir en tyrans, nous qui les puniſſons." |
That of Mahomet for the following:
|
"Exterminez, grands dieux, de la terre ou nous ſommeſ "Quiconque avec plaiſir repand le ſang des hommes." |
It is to be remarked, that the laſt lines are only a ſimple axiom of humanity, and could not have been conſidered as implying a cenſure on any government except that of the French republic.
—Hence a croud of ſcribblers, without ſhame or talents, have become the excluſive directors of public amuſements, and, as far as the noiſe of a theatre conſtitutes ſucceſs, are perhaps more ſucceſſful than ever waſ Racine or Moliere. Immorality and dulneſs have an infallible reſource againſt public diſapprobation in the abuſe of monarchy and religion, or a niche for Mr. Pitt; and an indignant or impatient audience, loſing their other feelings in their fears, are glad to purchaſe the reputation of patriotiſm by applauding traſh they find it difficult to endure. The theatres ſwarm with ſpies, and to cenſure a revolutionary piece, however deteſtable even as a compoſition, is dangerous, and few have courage to be the critics of an author who is patronized by the ſuperintendants of the guillotine, or who may retaliate a comment on his poetry by the ſignificant proſe of a mandat d'arret.
Men of literature, therefore, have wiſely preferred the conſervation of their freedom to the vindication of their taſte, and have deemed it better to applaud at the Theatre de la Republique, than lodge at St. Lazare or Dupleſſis.—Thus political ſlavery has aſſiſted moral depravation: the writer who is the advocate of deſpotiſm, may be dull and licentious by privilege, and is alone exempt from the laws of Parnaſſuſ and of decency.—One Sylvan Marechal, author of a work he callſ philoſophie, has written a ſort of farce, which has been performed very generally, where all the Kings in Europe are brought together as ſo many monſters; and when the King of France is enquired after as not being among them, a Frenchman anſwers,—"Oh, he is not here—we have guillotined him—we have cut off his head according to law."—In one piece, the hero is a felon eſcaped from the galleys, and is repreſented as a patriot of the moſt ſublime principles; in another, he is the virtuous conductor of a gang of banditti; and the principal character in a third, is a ploughman turned deiſt and politician.
Yet, while theſe malevolent and mercenary ſcribblers are ranſacking paſt ages for the crimes of Kings or the abuſes of religion, and imputing to both many that never exiſted, they forget that neither their books nor their imagination are able to furniſh ſcenes of guilt and miſery equal to thoſe which have been preſented daily by republicans and philoſophers. What horror can their mock-tragedies excite in thoſe who have contemplated the Place de la Revolution? or who can ſmile at a farce in ridicule of monarchy, that beholds the Convention, and knows the characters of the men who compoſe it?—But in moſt of theſe wretched productions the abſurdity is luckily not leſs conſpicuous than the immoral intention: their Princes, their Prieſts, their Nobles, are all tyrannical, vicious, and miſerable; yet the common people, living under theſe ſame vicious tyrants, are deſcribed as models of virtue, hoſpitality, and happineſs. If, then, the auditors of ſuch edifying dramas were in the habit of reaſoning, they might very juſtly conclude, that the ignorance which republicaniſm is to baniſh is deſirable, and that the diffuſion of riches with which they have been flattered, will only increaſe their vices, and ſubtract from their felicity.
There are, however, ſome patriotic ſpirits, who, not inſenſible to thiſ degeneracy of the French theatre, and lamenting the evil, have lately exerciſed much ingenuity in developing the cauſe. They have at length diſcovered, that all the republican tragedies, flat farces, and heavy comedies, are attributable to Mr. Pitt, who has thought proper to corrupt the authors, with a view to deprave the public taſte. There is, certainly, no combating this charge; for as, according to the aſſertionſ of the Convention, Mr. Pitt has ſucceeded in bribing nearly every other deſcription of men in the republic, we may ſuppoſe the conſciences of ſuch ſcribblers not leſs flexible. Mr. Pitt, indeed, ſtands accuſed, ſometimes in conjunction with the Prince of Cobourg, and ſometimes on hiſ own account, of ſucceſſively corrupting the officers of the fleet and army, all the bankers and all the farmers, the prieſts who ſay maſſes, and the people who attend them, the chiefs of the ariſtocrats, and the leaders of the Jacobins. The bakers who refuſe to bake when they have no flour, and the populace who murmur when they have no bread, beſides the merchants and ſhopkeepers who prefer coin to aſſignats, are notoriouſly penſioned by him: and even a part of the Repreſentatives, and all the frail beauties, are ſaid to be enliſted in his ſervice.—Theſe multifarious charges will be found on the journals of the Aſſembly, and we muſt of courſe infer, that Mr. Pitt is the ableſt ſtateſman, or the French the moſt corrupt nation, exiſting.
But it is not only Barrere and his colleagues who ſuppoſe the whole country bribeable—the notion is common to the French in general; and vanity adding to the omnipotence of gold, whenever they ſpeak of a battle loſt, or a town taken, they conclude it impoſſible to have occurred but through the venal treachery of their officers.—The Engliſh, I have obſerved, always judge differently, and would not think the national honour ſuſtained by a ſuppoſition that their commanders were vulnerable only in the hand. If a general or an admiral happen to be unfortunate, it would be with the utmoſt reluctance that we ſhould think of attributing his miſchance to a cauſe ſo degrading; yet whoever has been uſed to French ſociety will acknowledge, that the firſt ſuggeſtion on ſuch events is "nos officiers ont ete gagnes," [Our officers were bought.] or "ſans la trahiſon ce ne ſeroit pas arrive." [This could not have happened without treachery.]—Pope's hyperbole of
"Juſt half the land would buy, and half be ſold,"
is more than applicable here; for if we may credit the French themſelves, the buyers are by no means ſo well proportioned to the ſellers.
As I have no new political intelligence to comment upon, I ſhall finiſh my letter with a domeſtic adventure of the morning.—Our houſe waſ yeſterday aſſigned as the quarters of ſome officers, who, with part of a regiment, were paſſing this way to join the Northern army. As they ſpent the evening out, we ſaw nothing of them, but finding one was a Colonel, and the other a Captain, though we knew what republican colonels and captains might be, we thought it civil, or rather neceſſary, to ſend them an invitation to breakfaſt. We therefore ordered ſome milk coffee early, (for Frenchmen ſeldom take tea,) and were all aſſembled before the uſual time to receive our military gueſts. As they did not, however, appear, we were ringing to enquire for them, when Mr. D____ entered from hiſ morning walk, and deſired us to be at eaſe on their account, for that in paſſing the kitchen, he had perceived the Captain fraternizing over ſome onions, bread, and beer, with our man; while the Colonel was in cloſe conference with the cook, and watching a pan of ſoup, which was warming for his breakfaſt. We have learned ſince, that theſe heroes were very willing to accept of any thing the ſervants offered them, but could not be prevailed upon to approach us; though, you are to underſtand, this waſ not occaſioned either by timidity or incivility, but by mere ignorance. —Mr. D____ ſays, the Marquiſe and I have not diveſted ourſelves of ariſtocratic aſſociations with our ideas of the military, and that our deſhabilles this morning were unuſually coquetiſh. Our projects of conqueſt were, however, all fruſtrated by the unlucky intervention of Bernardine's ſoupe aux choux, [Cabbage-ſoup.] and Euſtace's regale of cheeſe and onions.
"And with ſuch beaux 'tis vain to be a belle."
Yours, &c.