Auguſt, 1794.
I did not leave the Providence until ſome days after the date of my laſt: there were ſo many precautions to be taken, and ſo many formalities to be obſerved—ſuch references from the municipality to the diſtrict, and from the diſtrict to the Revolutionary Committee, that it is evident Robeſpierre's death has not baniſhed the uſual apprehenſion of danger from the minds of thoſe who became reſponſible for acts of juſtice or humanity. At length, after procuring a houſe-keeper to anſwer with hiſ life and property for our re-appearance, and for our attempting nothing againſt the "unity and indiviſibility" of the republic, we bade (I hope) a long adieu to our priſon.
Madame de ____ is to remain with me till her houſe can be repaired; for it has been in requiſition ſo often, that there is now, we are told, ſcarcely a bed left, or a room habitable. We have an old man placed with us by way of a guard, but he is civil, and is not intended to be a reſtraint upon us. In fact, he has a ſon, a member of the Jacobin club, and this opportunity is taken to compliment him, by taxing us with the maintenance of his father. It does not prevent us from ſeeing our acquaintance, and we might, I ſuppoſe, go out, though we have not yet ventured.
The politics of the Convention are fluctuating and verſatile, as will ever be the caſe where men are impelled by neceſſity to act in oppoſition to their principles. In their eagerneſs to attribute all the paſt exceſſes to Robeſpierre, they have, unawares, involved themſelves in the obligation of not continuing the ſame ſyſtem. They doubtleſs expected, by the fall of the tyrant, to become his ſucceſſors; but the people, weary of being dupes, and of hearing that tyrants were fallen, without feeling any diminution of tyranny, have every where manifeſted a temper, which the Convention, in the preſent relaxed ſtate of its power, iſ fearful of making experiments upon. Hence, great numbers of priſonerſ are liberated, thoſe that remain are treated more indulgently, and the fury of revolutionary deſpotiſm is in general abated.
The Deputies who moſt readily aſſent to theſe changes have aſſumed the appellation of Moderates; (Heaven knows how much they are indebted to compariſon;) and the popularity they have acquired has both offended and alarmed the more inflexible Jacobins. A motion has juſt been made by one Louchet, that a liſt of all perſons lately enlarged ſhould be printed, with the names of thoſe Deputies who ſolicited in their favour, annexed; and that ſuch ariſtocrats as were thus diſcovered to have regained their liberty, ſhould be re-impriſoned.—The decree paſſed, but was ſo ill received by the people, that it was judged prudent to repeal it the next day.
This circumſtance ſeems to be the ſignal of diſſention between the Aſſembly and the Club: the former, apprehenſive of revolting the public opinion on the one hand, and deſirous of conciliating the Jacobins on the other, waver between indulgence and ſeverity; but it is eaſy to diſcover, that their variance with the Jacobins is more a matter of expediency than principle, and that, were it not for other conſiderations, they would not ſuffer the impriſonment of a few thouſand harmleſs people to interrupt the amity which has ſo long ſubſiſted between themſelves and their ancient allies.—It is written, "from their works you ſhall know them;" and reaſoning from this tenet, which is our beſt authority, (for who can boaſt a ſcience in the human heart?) I am juſtified in my opinion, and I know it to be that of many perſons more competent to decide than myſelf. If I could have had doubts on the ſubject, the occurrences of the laſt few days would have amply ſatiſfied them.
However rejoiced the nation at large might be at the overthrow of Robeſpierre, no one was deceived as to the motives which actuated hiſ colleagues in the Committee. Every day produced new indications not only of their general concurrence in the enormities of the government, but of their own perſonal guilt. The Convention, though it could not be inſenſible of this, was willing, with a complaiſant prudence, to avoid the ſcandal of a public diſcuſſion, which muſt irritate the Jacobins, and expoſe its own weakneſs by a retroſpect of the crimes it had applauded and ſupported. Laurent Lecointre,* alone, and apparently unconnected with party, has had the courage to exhibit an accuſation againſt Billaud, Collot, Barrere, and thoſe of Robeſpierre's accomplices who were memberſ of the Committee of General Safety. He gave notice of his deſign on the eleventh of Fructidor (28th of Auguſt).
* Lecointre is a linen-draper at Verſailles, an original revolutioniſt, and I believe of more decent character than moſt included in that deſcription. If we could be perſuaded that there were any real fanatics in the Convention, I ſhould give Lecointre the credit of being among the number. He ſeems, at leaſt, to have ſome material circumſtances in his favour—ſuch as poſſeſſing the means of living; of not having, in appearance, enriched himſelf by the revolution; and, of being the only member who, after a ſcore of decrees to that purpoſe, has ventured to produce an account of hiſ fortune to the public.
—It was received everywhere but in the Convention with applauſe; and the public was flattered with the hope that juſtice would attain another faction of its oppreſſors. On the ſucceeding day, Lecointre appeared at the tribune to read his charges. They conveyed, even to the moſt prejudiced mind, an entire conviction, that the members he accuſed were ſole authors of a part, and accomplices in all the crimes which had deſolated their country. Each charge was ſupported by material proof, which he depoſited for the information of his colleagues. But this waſ unneceſſary—his colleagues had no deſire to be convinced; and, after overpowering him with ridicule and inſult, they declared, without entering into any diſcuſſion, that they rejected the charges with indignation, and that the members implicated had uniformly acted according to their [own] wiſhes, and thoſe of the nation.
As ſoon as this reſult was known in Paris, the people became enraged and diſguſted, the public walks reſounded with murmurs, the fermentation grew general, and ſome menaces were uttered of forcing the Convention to give Lecointre a more reſpectful hearing.—Intimidated by ſuch unequivocal proofs of diſapprobation, when the Aſſembly met on the thirteenth, it waſ decreed, after much oppoſition from Tallien, that Lecointre ſhould be allowed to reproduce his charges, and that they ſhould be ſolemnly examined.
After all this, Lecointre, whoſe figure is almoſt ludicrous, and who iſ no orator, was to repeat a voluminous denunciation, amidſt the clamour, abuſe, chicane, and deriſion of the whole Convention. But there are occaſions when the keeneſt ridicule is pointleſs; when the mind, armed by truth and elevated by humanity, rejects its inſidious effortſ—and, abſorbed by more laudable feelings, deſpiſes even the ſmile of contempt. The juſtice of Lecointre's cauſe ſupplied his want of external advantages: and his arguments were ſo clear and ſo unanſwerable, that the plain diction in which they were conveyed was more impreſſive than the moſt finiſhed eloquence; and neither the malice nor ſarcaſms of hiſ enemies had any effect but on thoſe who were intereſted in ſilencing or confounding him. Yet, in proportion as the force of Lecointre'ſ denunciation became evident, the Aſſembly appeared anxious to ſuppreſſ it; and, after ſome hourſ' ſcandalous debate, during which it waſ frequently aſſerted that theſe charges could not be encouraged without criminating the entire legiſlative body, they decreed the whole to be falſe and defamatory.
The accuſed members defended themſelves with the aſſurance of delinquentſ tried by their avowed accomplices, and who are previouſly certain of favour and acquittal; while Lecointre's conduct in the buſineſs ſeems to have been that of a man determined to perſevere in an act of duty, which he has little reaſon to hope will be ſucceſſful.*
* It is ſaid, that, at the concluſion of this diſgraceful buſineſs, the members of the convention crouded about the delinquents with their habitual ſervility, and appeared gratified that their ſerviceſ on the occaſion had given them a claim to notice and familiarity.
Though the galleries of the Convention were more than uſually furniſhed on the day with applauders, yet this deciſion has been univerſally ill received. The time is paſſed when the voice of reaſon could be ſilenced by decrees. The ſtupendous tyranny of the government, though not meliorated in principle, is relaxed in practice; and this vote, far from operating in favour of the culprits, has only ſerved to excite the public indignation, and to render them more odious. Thoſe who cannot judge of the logical preciſion of Lecointre's arguments, or the juſtneſs of hiſ inferences, can feel that his charges are merited. Every heart, every tongue, acknowledges the guilt of thoſe he has attacked. They are certain France has been the prey of numberleſs atrocitieſ—they are certain, that theſe were perpetrated by order of the committee; that eleven members compoſed it; and that Robeſpierre and his aſſociates being but three, did not conſtitute a majority.
Theſe facts are now commented on with as much freedom as can be expected among a people whoſe imaginations are yet haunted by revolutionary tribunals and Baſtilles, and the concluſions are not favourable to the Convention. The national diſcontent is, however, ſuſpended by the hoſtilities between the legiſlature and the Jacobin club: the latter ſtill perſiſts in demanding the revolutionary ſyſtem in its primitive ſeverity, while the former are reſtrained from compliance, not only by the odium it muſt draw on them, but from a certainty that it cannot be ſupported but through the agency of the popular ſocieties, who would thuſ again become their dictators. I believe it is not unlikely that the people and the Convention are both endeavouring to make inſtruments of each other to deſtroy the common enemy; for the little popularity the Convention enjoy is doubtleſs owing to a ſuperior hatred of the Jacobins: and the moderation which the former affect towards the people, is equally influenced by a view of forming a powerful balance againſt theſe obnoxious ſocieties.—While a ſort of neceſſity for this temporizing continues, we ſhall go on very tranquilly, and it is become a mode to ſay the Convention is "adorable."
Tallien, who has been wreſtling with his ill fame for a tranſient popularity, has thought it adviſable to revive the public attention by the farce of Piſiſtratuſ—at leaſt, an attempt to aſſaſſinate him, in which there ſeems to have been more eclat than danger, has given riſe to ſuch an opinion. Bulletins of his health are delivered every day in form to the Convention, and ſome of the provincial clubs have ſent congratulations on his eſcape. But the ſneers of the incredulous, and perhaps an internal admonition of the ridicule and diſgrace attendant on the worſhip of an idol whoſe reputation is ſo unpropitious, have much repreſſed the cuſtomary ardour, and will, I think, prevent theſe "hair-breadth 'ſcapeſ" from continuing faſhionable.—Yours, &c.