February 12, 1794.
I was too much occupied by my perſonal diſtreſſes to make any remarks on the revolutionary government at the time of its adoption. The text of this political phoenomenon muſt be well known in England—I ſhall, therefore, confine myſelf to giving you a general idea of its ſpirit and tendency,—It is, compared to regular government, what force is to mechaniſm, or the uſual and peaceful operations of nature to the ravageſ of a ſtorm—it ſubſtitutes violence for conciliation, and ſweeps with precipitate fury all that oppoſes its devaſtating progreſs. It referſ every thing to a ſingle principle, which is in itſelf not ſuſceptible of definition, and, like all undefined power, is continually vibrating between deſpotiſm and anarchy. It is the execrable ſhape of Milton'ſ Death, "which ſhape hath none," and which can be deſcribed only by itſ effects.—For inſtance, the revolutionary tribunal condemns without evidence, the revolutionary committees impriſon without a charge, and whatever aſſumes the title of revolutionary is exonerated from all ſubjection to humanity, decency, reaſon, or juſtice.—Drowning the inſurgents, their wives and children, by boatloads, is called, in the diſpatch to the Convention, a revolutionary meaſure—*
* The detail of the horrors committed in La Vendee and at Nanteſ were not at this time fully known. Carrier had, however, acknowledged, in a report read to the Convention, that a boat-load of refractory prieſts had been drowned, and children of twelve yearſ old condemned by a military commiſſion! One Fabre Marat, a republican General, wrote, about the ſame period, I think from Angers, that the Guillotine was too ſlow, and powder ſcarce, ſo that it was concluded more expedient to drown the rebels, which he callſ a patriotic baptiſm!—The following is a copy of a letter addreſſed to the Mayor of Paris by a Commiſſary of the Government:
"You will give us pleaſure by tranſmitting the details of your fete at Paris laſt decade, with the hymns that were ſung. Here we all cried "Vive la Republique!" as we ever do, when our holy mother Guillotine iſ at work. Within theſe three days ſhe has ſhaved eleven prieſts, one ci-devant noble, a nun, a general, and a ſuperb Engliſhman, ſix feet high, and as he was too tall by a head, we have put that into the ſack! At the ſame time eight hundred rebels were ſhot at the Pont du Ce, and their carcaſes thrown into the Loire!—I underſtand the army is on the track of the runaways. All we overtake we ſhoot on the ſpot, and in ſuch numberſ that the ways are heaped with them!"
—At Lyons, it is revolutionary to chain three hundred victims together before the mouths of loaded cannon, and maſſacre thoſe who eſcape the diſcharge with clubs and bayonets;* and at Paris, revolutionary jurieſ guillotine all who come before them.—**
* The Convention formally voted their approbation of this meaſure, and Collot d'Herbois, in a report on the ſubject, makes a kind of apoſtrophical panegyric on the humanity of his colleagues. "Which of you, Citizens, (ſays he,) would not have fired the cannon? Which of you would not joyfully have deſtroyed all theſe traitors at a blow?" ** About this time a woman who ſold newſpapers, and the printer of them, were guillotined for paragraphs deemed incivique.
—Yet this government is not more terrible than it is minutely vexations. One's property is as little ſecure as one's exiſtence. Revolutionary committees every where ſequeſtrate in the groſs, in order to plunder in detail.*
* The revolutionary committees, when they arreſted any one, pretended to affix ſeals in form. The ſeal was often, however, no other than the private one of ſome individual employed—ſometimeſ only a button or a halfpenny, which was broken as often as the Committee wanted acceſs to the wine or other effects. Camille Deſmoulins, in an addreſs to Freron, his fellow-deputy, deſcribeſ with ſome humour the mode of proceeding of theſe revolutionary pilferers:
"Avant hier, deux Commiſſaires de la ſection de Mutius Scaevola, montent chez lui—ils trouvent dans la bibliotheque des livres de droit; et non-obſtant le decret qui porte qu'on ne touchera point Domat ni a Charleſ Dumoulin, bien qu'ils traitent de matieres feodales, ils ſont main baſſe ſur la moitie de la bibliotheque, et chargent deux Chrocheteurs deſ livres paternels. Ils trouvent une pendule, don't la pointe de Paiguille etoit, comme la plupart des pointes d'aiguilles, terminee en trefle: il leur ſemble que cette pointe a quelque choſe d'approchant d'une fleur de lys; et non-obſtant le decret qui ordonne de reſpecter les monumens deſ arts, il confiſquent la pendule.—Notez bien qu'il y avoit a cote une malle ſur laquelle etoit l'adreſſe fleurdeliſee du marchand.—Ici il n'y avoit pas moyen de aier que ce fut une belle et bonne fleur de lys; maiſ comme la malle ne valoit pas un corſet, les Commiſſaires ſe contentent de rayer les lys, au lieu que la malheureuſe pendule, qui vaut bien 1200 livres, eſt, malgre ſon trefle, emportee par eux-memes, qui ne ſe fioient pas aux Chrocheteurs d'un poid ſi precieux—et ce, en vertu du droit que Barrere a appelle ſi heureuſement le droit de prehenſion, quoique le decret ſ'oppoſat, dans l'eſpece, a l'application de ce droit.—Enfin, notre decemvirat ſectionnaire, qui ſe mettoit ainſi au-deſſus deſ decrets, trouve le brevet de penſion de mon beau-pere, qui, comme touſ les brevets de penſion, n'etant pas de nature a etre porte ſur le grand livre de la republique, etoit demeure dans le porte-feuille, et qui, comme tous les brevets de penſion poſſibles, commencoit par ce protocole; Louis, &c. Ciel! ſ'ecrient les Commiſſaires, le nom du tyran!—Et apreſ avoir retrouve leur haleine, ſuffoquee d'abord par l'indignation, ilſ mettent en poche le brevet de penſion, c'eſt a dire 1000 livres de rente, et emportent la marmite. Autre crime, le Citoyen Dupleſſis, qui etoit premier commis des finances, ſous Clugny, avoit conſerve, comme c'etoit l'uſage, la cachet du controle general d'alorſ—un vieux porte-feuille de commis, qui etoit au rebut, ouble au deſſus d'une armoire, dans un tas de pouſſiere, et auquel il n'avoit pas touche ne meme penſe depuis dix anſ peutetre, et ſur le quel on parvint a decouvrir l'empreinte de quelqueſ fleurs de lys, ſous deux doigts de craſſe, acheva de completer la preuve que le Citoyen Dupleſſis etoit ſuſpect—et la voila, lui, enferme juſqu'a la paix, et le ſcelle mis ſur toutes les portes de cette campagne, ou, tu te ſouviens, mon cher Freroa—que, decretes tous deux de priſe de corps, apres le maſſacre du Champ de Mars, nous trouvions un aſyle que le tyran n'oſoit violer."
"The day before yeſterday, two Commiſſaries belonging to the ſection of Mutius Scaevola, entered my father-in-law's apartments; they found ſome law-books in the library, and, notwithſtanding the decree which exemptſ from ſeizure the works of Domat and Charles Dumouin, (although they treat of feudal matters,) they proceeded to lay violent hands on one half of the collection, and loaded two porters with paternal ſpoils. The next object that attracted their attention was a clock, the hand of which, like the hands of moſt other clocks, terminated in a point, in the form of a trefoil, which ſeemed to them to bear ſome reſemblance to a fleur de lys; and, notwithſtanding the decree which ordains that the monuments of the arts ſhall be reſpected, they immediately paſſed ſentence of confiſcation on the clock. I ſhould obſerve to you, that hard by lay a portmanteau, having on it the maker's addreſs, encircled with lilies.— Here there was no diſputing the fact, but as the trunk was not worth five livres, the Commiſſaries contented themſelves with eraſing the lilies; but the unfortunate clock, being worth twelve hundred, was, notwithſtanding its trefoil, carried off by themſelves, for they would not truſt the porters with ſo precious a load.—And all this was done in virtue of the law, which Barrere aptly denominated the law of prehenſion, and which, according to the terms of the decree itſelf, was not applicable to the caſe in queſtion.
"At length our ſectionary decemvirs, who thus placed themſelves above the law, diſcovered the grant of my father-in-law's penſion, which, like all ſimilar grants, being excluded from the privilege of inſcription on the great regiſter of public debts, had been left in his port-folio; and which began, as all ſuch grants neceſſarily muſt, with the words, Louis, &c. "Heaven!" exclaimed the Commiſſaries, "here is the very name of the tyrant!" And, as ſoon as they recovered their breaths, which had been nearly ſtopped by the violence of the indignation, they coolly pocketed the grant, that is to ſay, an annuity of one thouſand livres, and ſent off the porridge-pot. Nor did theſe conſtitute all the crimes of Citizen Dupleſſis, who, having ſerved as firſt clerk of the revenue board under Clugny, had, as was uſual, kept the official ſeal of that day. An old port-folio, which had been thrown aſide, and long forgotten, under a wardrobe, where it was buried in duſt, and had, in all probability, not been touched for ten years, but, which with much difficulty, waſ diſcovered to bear the impreſſion of a fleur de lys, completed the proof that Citizen Dupleſſis was a ſuſpicious character. And now behold him ſhut up in a priſon until peace ſhall be concluded, and the ſeals put upon all the doors of that country ſeat, where, you may remember, my dear Freron, that at the time when warrants were iſſued for apprehending uſ both, after the maſſacre in the Champ de Mars, we found an aſylum which the tyrant did not dare to violate."
—In a word, you muſt generally underſtand, that the revolutionary ſyſtem ſuperſedes law, religion, and morality; and that it inveſts the Committees of Public Welfare and General Safety, their agents, the Jacobin clubs, and ſubſidiary banditti, with the diſpoſal of the whole country and its inhabitants.
This gloomy aera of the revolution has its frivolities as well as the leſs diſaſtrous periods, and the barbariſm of the moment is rendered additionally diſguſting by a mixture of levity and pedantry.—It is a faſhion for people at preſent to abandon their baptiſmal and family names, and to aſſume that of ſome Greek or Roman, which the debates of the Convention have made familiar.—France ſwarms with Gracchuſ's and Publicolas, who by imaginary aſſimilations of acts, which a change of manners has rendered different, fancy themſelves more than equal to their prototypes.*
* The viciſſitudes of the revolution, and the vengeance of party, have brought half the ſages of Greece, and patriots of Rome, to the Guillotine or the pillory. The Newgate Calendar of Paris containſ as many illuſtrious names as the index to Plutarch's Lives; and I believe there are now many Brutuſ's and Gracchuſ's in durance vile, beſides a Mutius Scaevola condemned to twenty years impriſonment for an unſkilful theft.—A man of Amiens, whoſe name is Le Roy, ſignified to the public, through the channel of a newſpaper, that he had adopted that of Republic.
—A man who ſolicits to be the executioner of his own brother yclepſ himſelf Brutus, and a zealous preacher of the right of univerſal pillage cites the Agrarian law, and ſigns himſelf Lycurgus. Some of the Deputieſ have diſcovered, that the French mode of dreſſing is not characteriſtic of republicaniſm, and a project is now in agitation to drill the whole country into the uſe of a Roman coſtume.—You may perhaps ſuſpect, that the Romans had at leaſt more bodily ſedateneſs than their imitators, and that the ſhrugs, jerks, and carracoles of a French petit maitre, however republicanized, will not aſſort with the grave drapery of the toga. But on your ſide of the water you have a habit of reaſoning and deliberating —here they have that of talking and obeying.
Our whole community are in deſpair to-day. Dumont has been here, and thoſe who accoſted him, as well as thoſe who only ventured to interpret his looks, all agree in their reports that he is in a "bad humour."—The brighteſt eyes in France have ſupplicated in vain—not one grace of any ſort has been accorded—and we begin to cheriſh even our preſent ſituation, in the apprehenſion that it may become worſe.—Alaſ! you know not of what evil portent is the "bad humour" of a Repreſentant. We are half of us now, like the Perſian Lord, feeling if our heads are ſtill on our ſhoulders.—I could add much to the concluſion of one of my laſt letters. Surely this inceſſant ſolicitude for mere exiſtence debilitateſ the mind, and impairs even its paſſive faculty of ſuffering. We intrigue for the favour of the keeper, ſmile complacently at the groſſ pleaſantries of a Jacobin, and tremble at the frown of a Dumont.—I am aſhamed to be the chronicler of ſuch humiliation: but, "tuſh, Hal; men, mortal men!" I can add no better apology, and quit you to moralize on it.—Yours.