February 2, 1794.
The factions which have choſen to give France the appellation of a republic, ſeem to have judged, and with ſome reaſon, that though it might anſwer their purpoſe to amuſe the people with ſpecious theories of freedom, their habits and ideas were far from requiring that theſe fine ſchemes ſhould be carried into practice. I know of no example equal to the ſubmiſſion of the French at this moment; and if "departed ſpiritſ were permitted to review the world," the ſhades of Richelieu or Louvoiſ might hover with envy round the Committee of Public Welfare, and regret the undaring moderation of their own politics.
How ſhall I explain to an Engliſhman the doctrine of univerſal requiſition? I rejoice that you can imagine nothing like it.—After eſtabliſhing, as a general principle, that the whole country is at the diſpoſal of government, ſucceeding decrees have made ſpecific claims on almoſt every body, and every thing. The tailors, ſhoemakers,* bakers, ſmiths, ſadlers, and many other trades, are all in requiſition—carts, horſes, and carriages of every kind, are in requiſition—the ſtables and cellars are put in requiſition for the extraction of ſaltpetre, and the houſes to lodge ſoldiers, or to be converted into priſons.
* In order to prevent frauds, the ſhoemakers were obliged to make only ſquare-toed ſhoes, and every perſon not in the army waſ forbidden to wear them of this form. Indeed, people of any pretentions to patriotiſm (that is to ſay, who were much afraid) did not venture to wear any thing but wooden ſhoes; as it had been declared anti-civique, if not ſuſpicious, to walk in leather.
—Sometimes ſhopkeepers are forbidden to ſell their cloth, nails, wine, bread, meat, &c. There are inſtances where whole towns have been kept without the neceſſaries of life for ſeveral days together, in conſequence of theſe interdictions; and I have known it proclaimed by beat of drum, that whoever poſſeſſed two uniforms, two hats, or two pair of ſhoes, ſhould relinquiſh one for the uſe of the army! Yet with all theſe efforts of deſpotiſm, the republican troops are in many reſpects ill ſupplied, the produce being too often converted to the uſe of the agentſ of government, who are all Jacobins, and whoſe peculations are ſuffered with impunity, becauſe they are too neceſſary, or perhaps too formidable for puniſhment.
Theſe proceedings, which are not the leſs miſchievous for being abſurd, muſt end in a total deſtruction of commerce: the merchant will not import what he may be obliged to ſell excluſively to government at an arbitrary and inadequate valuation.—Thoſe who are not impriſoned, and have it in their power, are for the moſt part retired from buſineſs, or at leaſt avoid all foreign ſpeculations; ſo that France may in a few months depend only on her internal reſources. The ſame meaſures which ruin one claſs, ſerve as a pretext to oppreſs and levy contributions on the reſt.—In order to make this right of ſeizure ſtill more productive, almoſt every village has its ſpies, and the domiciliary viſits are become ſo frequent, that a man is leſs ſecure in his own houſe, than in a deſert amidſt Arabs. On theſe occaſions, a band of Jacobins, with a municipal officer at their head, enter ſans ceremonie, over-run your apartments, and if they find a few pounds of ſugar, ſoap, or any other article which they chooſe to judge more than ſufficient for immediate conſumption, they take poſſeſſion of the whole as a monopoly, which they claim for the uſe of the republic, and the terrified owner, far from expoſtulating, thinkſ himſelf happy if he eſcapes ſo well.—But this is mere vulgar tyranny: a leſs powerful deſpotiſm might invade the ſecurity of ſocial life, and baniſh its comforts. We are prone to ſuffer, and it requires often little more than the will to do evil to give us a command over the happineſs of others. The Convention are more original, and, not ſatiſfied with having reduced the people to the moſt abject ſlavery, they exact a ſemblance of content, and dictate at ſtated periods the chaſtiſement which awaits thoſe who refuſe to ſmile.
The ſplendid ceremonies at Paris, which paſs for popular rejoicings, merit that appellation leſs than an auto de fe. Every movement iſ previouſly regulated by a Commiſſioner appointed for the purpoſe, (to whom en paſſant theſe fetes are very lucrative jobs,) a plan of the whole is diſtributed, in which is preſcribed with great exactneſs, that at ſuch and ſuch parts the people are to "melt into tears," at otherſ they are to be ſeized with a holy enthuſiaſm, and at the concluſion of the whole they are to rend the air with the cry of "Vive la Convention!" —Theſe celebrations are always attended by a military force, ſufficient to enſure their obſervance, beſides a plentiful mixture of ſpies to notice refractory countenances or faint acclamations.
The departments which cannot imitate the magnificence of Paris, are obliged, nevertheleſs, to manifeſt their ſatiſfaction. At every occaſion on which a rejoicing is ordered, the ſame kind of diſcipline iſ preſerved; and the ariſtocrats, whoſe fears in general overcome their principles, are often not the leaſt zealous attendants.
At the retaking of Toulon, when abandoned by our countrymen, the National Guards were every where aſſembled to participate in the feſtivity, under a menace of three days impriſonment. Thoſe perſons who did not illuminate their houſes were to be conſidered as ſuſpicious, and treated as ſuch: yet, even with all theſe precautions, I am informed the buſineſſ was univerſally cold, and the balls thinly attended, except by ariſtocrats and relations of emigrants, who, in ſome places, with a baſeneſs not excuſed even by their terrors, exhibited themſelves as a public ſpectacle, and ſang the defeats of that country which was armed in their defence.
I muſt here remark to you a circumſtance which does ſtill leſs honour to the French character; and which you will be unwilling to believe. In ſeveral towns the officers and others, under whoſe care the Engliſh were placed during their confinement, were deſirous ſometimes on account of the peculiar hardſhip of their ſituation as foreigners, to grant them little indulgences, and even more liberty than to the French priſoners; and in this they were juſtified on ſeveral conſiderations, as well aſ that of humanity.—They knew an Engliſhman could not eſcape, whatever facility might be given him, without being immediately retaken; and that if his impriſonment were made ſevere, he had fewer external reſources and alleviations than the natives of the country: but theſe favourable diſpoſitions were of no avail—for whenever any of our countrymen obtained an accommodation, the jealouſy of the French took umbrage, and they were obliged to relinquiſh it, or hazard the drawing embarraſſment on the individual who had ſerved them.
You are to notice, that the people in general, far from being averſe to ſeeing the Engliſh treated with a comparative indulgence, were even pleaſed at it; and the invidious compariſons and complaints which prevented it, proceeded from the gentry, from the families of thoſe who had found refuge in England, and who were involved in the common perſecution.—I have, more than once, been reproached by a female ariſtocrat with the ill ſucceſs of the Engliſh army; and many, with whom I formerly lived on terms of intimacy, would refuſe me now the moſt trifling ſervice.—I have heard of a lady, whoſe huſband and brother are both in London, who amuſes herſelf in teaching a bird to repeat abuſe of the Engliſh.
It has been ſaid, that the day a man becomes a ſlave, he loſes half hiſ virtue; and if this be true as to perſonal ſlavery, judging from the examples before me, I conclude it equally ſo of political bondage.—The extreme deſpotiſm of the government ſeems to have confounded every principle of right and wrong, every diſtinction of honour and diſhonour and the individual, of whatever claſs, alive only to the ſenſe of perſonal danger, embraces without reluctance meanneſs or diſgrace, if it inſure his ſafety.—A tailor or ſhoemaker, whoſe reputation perhaps iſ too bad to gain him a livelihood by any trade but that of a patriot, ſhall be beſieged by the flatteries of people of rank, and have levees aſ numerous as Choiſeul or Calonne in their meridian of power.
When a Deputy of the Convention is ſent to a town on miſſion, ſadneſſ takes poſſeſſion of every heart, and gaiety of every countenance. He iſ beſet with adulatory petitions, and propitiating gifts; the Nobleſſe who have eſcaped confinement form a ſort of court about his perſon; and thrice happy is the owner of that habitation at which he condeſcends to reſide.—*
* When a Deputy arrives, the gentry of the town contend with jealouſ rivalſhip for the honour of lodging him; and the moſt eloquent eulogiſt of republican ſimplicity in the Convention does not fail to prefer a large houſe and a good table, even though the unhallowed property of an ariſtocrat.—It is to be obſerved, that theſe Miſſionaries travel in a very patriarchal ſtyle, accompanied by their wives, children, and a numerous train of followers, who are not delicate in availing themſelves of this hoſpitality, and are ſometimes accuſed of carrying off the linen, or any thing elſe portable—even the moſt decent behave on theſe occaſions as though they were at an inn.
—A Repreſentative of gallantry has no reaſon to envy either the authority of the Grand Signor, or the licence of his ſeraglio—he iſ arbiter of the fate of every woman that pleaſes him; and, it is ſuppoſed, that many a fair captive has owed her liberty to her charms, and that the philoſophy of a French huſband has ſometimes opened the doors of hiſ priſon.
Dumont, who is married, and has beſides the countenance of a white Negro, never viſits us without occaſioning a general commotion amongſt all the females, eſpecially thoſe who are young and pretty. As ſoon as it iſ known that he is expected, the toilettes are all in activity, a renovation of rouge and an adjuſtment of curls take place, and, though performed with more haſte, not with leſs ſolicitude, than the preparatory ſplendour of a firſt introduction.—When the great man arrives, he findſ the court by which he enters crowded by theſe formidable priſoners, and each with a petition in her hand endeavours, with the inſidious coquetry of plaintive ſmiles and judicious tears, that brighten the eye without deranging the features, to attract his notice and conciliate his favour. Happy thoſe who obtain a promiſe, a look of complacence, or even of curioſity!—But the attention of this apoſtle of republicaniſm is not often beſtowed, except on high rank, or beauty; and a woman who is old, or ill dreſſed, that ventures to approach him, is uſually repulſed with vulgar brutality—while the very ſight of a male ſuppliant renders him furious. The firſt half hour he walks about, ſurrounded by his fair cortege, and is tolerably civil; but at length, fatigued, I ſuppoſe by continual importunity, he loſes his temper, departs, and throws all the petitions he has received unopened into the fire.
Adieu—the ſubject is too humiliating to dwell on. I feel for myſelf, I feel for human nature, when I ſee the faſtidiouſneſs of wealth, the more liberal pride of birth, and the yet more allowable pretenſions of beauty, degraded into the moſt abject ſubmiſſion to ſuch a being as Dumont. Are our principles every where the mere children of circumſtance, or is it in this country only that nothing is ſtable? For my own part I love inflexibility of character; and pride, even when ill founded, ſeems more reſpectable while it ſuſtains itſelf, than conceſſions which, refuſed to the ſuggeſtions of reaſon, are yielded to the dictates of fear.—Yours.