August 15.
The consternation and horror of which I have been partaker, will more than apologize for my silence. It is impossible for any one, however unconnected with the country, not to feel an interest in its present calamities, and to regret them. I have little courage to write even now, and you must pardon me if my letter should bear marks of the general depression. All but the faction are grieved and indignant at the King's deposition; but this grief is without energy, and this indignation silent. The partizans of the old government, and the friends of the new, are equally enraged; but they have no union, are suspicious of each other, and are sinking under the stupor of despair, when they should be preparing for revenge.—It would not be easy to describe our situation during the last week. The ineffectual efforts of La Fayette, and the violences occasioned by them, had prepared us for something still more serious. On the ninth, we had a letter from one of the representatives for this department, strongly expressive of his apprehensions for the morrow, but promising to write if he survived it. The day, on which we expected news, came, but no post, no papers, no diligence, nor any means of information. The succeeding night we sat up, expecting letters by the post: still, however, none arrived; and the courier only passed hastily through, giving no detail, but that Paris was a feu et a sang.*
* All fire and slaughter.
At length, after passing two days and nights in this dreadful suspence, we received certain intelligence which even exceeded our fears.—It is needless to repeat the horrors that have been perpetrated. The accounts must, ere now, have reached you. Our representative, as he seemed to expect, was so ill treated as to be unable to write: he was one of those who had voted the approval of La Fayette's conduct—all of whom were either massacred, wounded, or intimidated; and, by this means, a majority was procured to vote the deposition of the King. The party allow, by their own accounts, eight thousand persons to have perished on this occasion; but the number is supposed to be much more considerable. No papers are published at present except those whose editors, being members of the Assembly, and either agents or instigators of the massacres, are, of course, interested in concealing or palliating them.—-Mr. De _____ has just now taken up one of these atrocious journals, and exclaims, with tears starting from his eyes, "On a abattu la statue d'Henri quatre!*"
*"They have destroyed the statue of Henry the Fourth."
The sacking of Rome by the Goths offers no picture equal to the licentiousness and barbarity committed in a country which calls itself the most enlightened in Europe.—But, instead of recording these horrors, I will fill up my paper with the Choeur Bearnais.
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Choeur Bearnais. "Un troubadour Bearnais, "Le yeux inoudes de larmes, "A ses montagnards "Chantoit ce refrein source d'alarmes— "Louis le fils d'Henri "Est prisonnier dans Paris! "Il a tremble pour les jours "De sa compagne cherie "Qui n'a troube de secours "Que dans sa propre energie; "Elle suit le fils d'Henri "Dans les prisons de Paris. "Quel crime ont ils donc commis "Pour etre enchaines de meme? "Du peuple ils sont les amis, "Le peuple veut il qu'on l'aime, "Quand il met le fils d'Henri "Dans les prisons de Paris? "Le Dauphin, ce fils cheri, "Qui seul fait notre esperance, "De pleurs sera donc nourri; "Les Berceaux qu'on donne en France "Aux enfans de notre Henri "Sont les prisons de Paris. "Il a vu couler le sang "De ce garde fidele, "Qui vient d'offrir en mourant "Aux Francais un beau modele; Mais Louis le fils d'Henri "Est prisonnier dans Paris. "Il n'est si triste appareil "Qui du respect nous degage, "Les feux ardens du Soleil "Savent percer le nuage: "Le prisonnier de Paris "Est toujours le fils d'Henri. "Francais, trop ingrats Francais "Rendez le Roi a sa compagne; "C'est le bien du Bearnais, "C'est l'enfant de la Montagne: "Le bonheur qu' avoit Henri "Nous l'affarons a Louis. "Chez vouz l'homme a de ses droits "Recouvre le noble usage, "Et vous opprimez vos rois, "Ah! quel injuste partage! "Le peuple est libre, et Louis "Est prisonnier dans Paris. "Au pied de ce monument "Ou le bon Henri respire "Pourquoi l'airain foudroyant? "Ah l'on veut qu' Henri conspire "Lui meme contre son fils "Dans les prisons de Paris." |
It was published some time ago in a periodical work, (written with great spirit and talents,) called "The Acts of the Apostles," and, I believe, has not yet appeared in England. The situation of the King gives a peculiar interest to these stanzas, which, merely as a poetical composition, are very beautiful. I have often attempted to translate them, but have always found it impossible to preserve the effect and simplicity of the original. They are set to a little plaintive air, very happily characteristic of the words.
Perhaps I shall not write to you again from hence, as we depart for A_____ on Tuesday next. A change of scene will dissipate a little the seriousness we have contracted during the late events. If I were determined to indulge grief or melancholy, I would never remove from the spot where I had formed the resolution. Man is a proud animal even when oppressed by misfortune. He seeks for his tranquility in reason and reflection; whereas, a post-chaise and four, or even a hard-trotting horse, is worth all the philosophy in the world.—But, if, as I observed before, a man be determined to resist consolation, he cannot do better than stay at home, and reason and phosophize.
Adieu:—the situation of my friends in this country makes me think of England with pleasure and respect; and I shall conclude with a very homely couplet, which, after all the fashionable liberality of modern travellers, contains a great deal of truth:
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"Amongst mankind "We ne'er shall find "The worth we left at home." |
Yours, &c.