Amiens, Oct. 24, 1794.
Revolutions, like every thing elſe in France, are a mode, and the Convention already commemorate four ſince 1789: that of July 1789, which rendered the monarchical power nugatory; that of Auguſt the 10th, 1792, which ſubverted it; the expulſion of the Briſſotins, in May 1793; and the death of Robeſpierre, in July 1794.
The people, accuſtomed, from their earlieſt knowledge, to reſpect the perſon and authority of the King, felt that the events of the two firſt epochs, which diſgraced the one and annihilated the other, were violent and important revolutions; and, as language which expreſſes the public ſentiment is readily adopted, it ſoon became uſual to ſpeak of theſe events as the revolutions of July and Auguſt.
The thirty-firſt of May has always been viewed in a very different light, for it was not eaſy to make the people at large comprehend how the ſucceſſion of Robeſpierre and Danton to Briſſot and Roland could be conſidered as a revolution, more eſpecially as it appeared evident that the principles of one party actuated the government of the other. Every town had its many-headed monſter to repreſent the defeat of the Foederaliſts, and its mountain to proclaim the triumph of their enemieſ the Mountaineers; but theſe political hieroglyphics were little underſtood, and the merits of the factions they alluded to little diſtinguiſhed—ſo that the revolution of the thirty-firſt of May waſ rather a party aera, than a popular one.
The fall of Robeſpierre would have made as little impreſſion as that of the Girondiſts, if ſome melioration of the revolutionary ſyſtem had not ſucceeded it; and it is in fact only ſince the public voice, and the intereſt of the Convention, have occaſioned a change approaching to reform, that the death of Robeſpierre is really conſidered as a benefit.
But what was in itſelf no more than a warfare of factions, may now, if eſtimated by its conſequences, be pronounced a revolution of infinite importance. The Jacobins, whom their declining power only rendered more inſolent and daring, have at length obliged the Convention to take decided meaſures againſt them, and they are now ſubject to ſuch regulations as muſt effectually diminiſh their influence, and, in the end, diſſolve their whole combination. They can no longer correſpond aſ ſocieties, and the miſchievous union which conſtituted their chief force, can ſcarcely be ſupported for any time under the preſent reſtrictions.*
* "All affiliations, aggregations, and foederations, as well aſ correſpondences carried on collectively between ſocieties, under whatever denomination they may exiſt, are henceforth prohibited, aſ being ſubverſive of government, and contrary to the unity of the republic. "Thoſe perſons who ſign as preſidents or ſecretaries, petitions or addreſſes in a collective form, ſhall be arreſted and confined aſ ſuſpicious, &c. &c.—Whoever offends in any ſhape againſt the preſent law, will incur the ſame penalty." The whole of the decree is in the ſame ſpirit. The immediate and avowed pretext for this meaſure was, that the popular ſocieties, who have of late only ſent petitions diſagreeable to the Convention, did not expreſs the ſenſe of the people. Yet the depoſition of the King, and the eſtabliſhment of the republic, had no other ſanction than the adherence of theſe clubs, who are now allowed not to be the nation, and whoſe very exiſtence as then conſtituted is declared to be ſubverſive of government.
It is not improbable, that the Convention, by ſuffering the clubs ſtill to exiſt, after reducing them to nullity, may hope to preſerve the inſtitution as a future reſource againſt the people, while it repreſſeſ their immediate efforts againſt itſelf. The Briſſotins would have attempted a ſimilar policy, but they had nothing to oppoſe to the Jacobins, except their perſonal influence. Briſſot and Roland took part with the clubs, as they approved the maſſacres of Auguſt and September, juſt as far as it anſwered their purpoſe; and when they were abandoned by the one, and the other were found to incur an unprofitable odium, they acted the part which Tallien and Freron act now under the ſame circumſtances, and would willingly have promoted the deſtruction of a power which had become inimical to them.*—
* Briſſot and Roland were more pernicious as Jacobins than the moſt furious of their ſucceſſors. If they did not in perſon excite the people to the commiſſion of crimes, they corrupted them, and made them fit inſtruments for the crimes of others. Briſſot might affect to condemn the maſſacres of September in the groſs, but he is known to have enquired with eager impatience, and in a tone which implied he had reaſons for expecting it, whether De Morande, an enemy he wiſhed to be releaſed from, was among the murdered.
—Their imitators, without poſſeſſing more honeſty, either political or moral, are more fortunate; and not only Tallien and Freron, who ſince their expulſion from the Jacobins have become their moſt active enemies, are now in a manner popular, but even the whole Convention is much leſſ deteſted than it was before.
It is the ſingular felicity of the Aſſembly to derive a ſort of popularity from the very exceſſes it has occaſioned or ſanctioned, and which, it was natural to ſuppoſe, would have conſigned it for ever to vengeance or obloquy; but the paſt ſufferings of the people have taught them to be moderate in their expectations; and the name of their repreſentation has been ſo connected with tyranny of every ſort, that it appears an extraordinary forbearance when the uſual operations of guillotines and mandates of arreſt are ſuſpended.
Thus, though the Convention have not in effect repaired a thouſandth part of their own acts of injuſtice, or done any good except from neceſſity, they are overwhelmed with applauding addreſſes, and affectionate injunctions not to quit their poſt. What is ſtill more wonderful, many of theſe are ſincere; and Tallien, Freron, Legendre, &c. with all their revolutionary enormities on their heads, are now the heroes of the reviving ariſtocrats.
Situated as things are at preſent, there is much ſound policy in flattering the Convention into a proper uſe of their power, rather than making a convulſive effort to deprive them of it. The Jacobins would doubtleſs avail themſelves of ſuch a movement; and this is ſo much apprehended, that it has given riſe to a general though tacit agreement to foment the diviſions between the Legiſlature and the Clubs, and to ſupport the firſt, at leaſt until it ſhall have deſtroyed the latter.
The late decrees, which obſtruct the intercourſe and affiliation of popular ſocieties, may be regarded as an event not only beneficial to this country, but to the world in general; becauſe it is confeſſed, that theſe combinations, by means of which the French monarchy was ſubverted, and the King brought to the ſcaffold, are only reconcileable with a barbarous and anarchical government.
The Convention are now much occupied on two affairs, which call forth all their "natural propenſities," and afford a farther confirmation of thiſ fact—that their feelings and principles are always inſtinctively at war with juſtice, however they may find it expedient to affect a regard for it—C'eſt la chatte metamorphoſee en femme [The cat turned into a woman.]—
"En vain de ſon train ordinaire" "On la veut deſaccoutumer, "Quelque choſe qu'on puiſſe faire "On ne fauroit la reformer." La Fontaine.
The Deputies who were impriſoned as accomplices of the Girondiſts, and on other different pretexts, have petitioned either to be brought to trial or releaſed; and the abominable conduct of Carrier at Nantes is ſo fully ſubſtantiated, that the whole country is impatient to have ſome ſtepſ taken towards bringing him to puniſhment: yet the Convention are averſe from both theſe meaſureſ—they procraſtinate and elude the demand of their ſeventy-two colleagues, who were arreſted without a ſpecific charge; while they almoſt protect Carrier, and declare, that in caſeſ which tend to deprive a Repreſentative of his liberty, it is better to reflect thirty times than once. This is curious doctrine with men who have ſent ſo many people arbitrarily to the ſcaffold, and who now detain ſeventy-two Deputies in confinement, they know not why.
The aſhes of Rouſſeau have recently been depoſited with the ſame ceremonies, and in the ſame place, as thoſe of Marat. We ſhould feel for ſuch a degradation of genius, had not the talents of Rouſſeau been frequently miſapplied; and it is their miſapplication which has levelled him to an aſſociation with Marat. Rouſſeau might be really a fanatic, and, though eccentric, honeſt; yet his power of adorning impracticable ſyſtems, it muſt be acknowledged, has been more miſchievous to ſociety than a thouſand ſuch groſs impoſtors as Marat.
I have learned ſince my return from the Providence, the death of Madame Elizabeth. I was ill when it happened, and my friends took ſome pains to conceal an event which they knew would affect me. In tracing the motiveſ of the government for this horrid action, it may perhaps be ſufficiently accounted for in the known piety and virtues of this Princeſs; but reaſons of another kind have been ſuggeſted to me, and which, in all likelihood, contributed to haſten it. She was the only perſon of the royal family of an age competent for political tranſactions who had not emigrated, and her character extorted reſpect even from her enemies. [The Prince of Conti was too inſignificant to be an object of jealouſy in thiſ way.] She muſt therefore, of courſe, ſince the death of the Queen, have been an object of jealouſy to all parties. Robeſpierre might fear that ſhe would be led to conſent to ſome arrangement with a rival faction for placing the King on the throne—the Convention were under ſimilar apprehenſions with regard to him; ſo that the fate of this illuſtriouſ ſufferer was probably gratifying to every part of the republicans.
I find, on reading her trial, (if ſo it may be called,) a repetition of one of the principal charges againſt the Queen—that of trampling on the national colours at Verſailles, during an entertainment given to ſome newly-arrived troops. Yet I have been aſſured by two gentlemen, perfectly informed on the ſubject, and who were totally unacquainted with each other, that this circumſtance, which has been ſo uſefully enlarged upon, is falſe,* and that the whole calumny originated in the jealouſy of a part of the national guard who had not been invited.
* This infamous calumny (originally fabricated by Lecointre the linen draper, then an officer of the National Guard, now a member of the council of 500) was amply confuted by M. Mounier, who waſ Preſident of the States-General at the time, in a publication intitled "Expoſe de ma Conduite," which appeared ſoon after the event—in the autumn of 1789.—Editor.
But this, as well as the taking of the Baſtille, and other revolutionary falſehoods, will, I truſt, be elucidated. The people are now undeceived only by their calamitieſ—the time may come, when it will be ſafe to produce their conviction by truth. Heroes of the fourteenth of July, and patriots of the tenth of Auguſt, how will ye ſhrink from it!—Yours, &c.