January 6, 1794.
If I had undertaken to follow the French revolution through all itſ abſurdities and iniquities, my indolence would long ſince have taken the alarm, and I ſhould have relinquiſhed a taſk become too difficult and too laborious. Events are now too numerous and too complicated to be deſcribed by occaſional remarks; and a narrator of no more pretenſionſ than myſelf may be allowed to ſhrink from an abundance of matter which will hereafter perplex the choice and excite the wonder of the hiſtorian.—Removed from the great ſcene of intrigues, we are little acquainted with them—we begin to ſuffer almoſt before we begin to conjecture, and our ſolicitude to examine cauſes is loſt in the rapidity with which we feel their effects.
Amidſt the more miſchievous changes of a philoſophic revolution, you will have learned from the newſpapers, that the French have adopted a new aera and a new calendar, the one dating from the foundation of their republic, and other deſcriptive of the climate of Paris, and the productions of the French territory. I doubt, however, if theſe new almanack-makers will create ſo much confuſion as might be ſuppoſed, or as they may deſire, for I do not find as yet that their ſyſtem has made its way beyond the public offices, and the country people are particularly refractory, for they perſiſt in holding their fairs, markets, &c. as uſual, without any regard to the hallowed decade of their legiſlators. As it is to be preſumed that the French do not wiſh to relinquiſh all commercial intercourſe with other nations, they mean poſſibly to tack the republican calendar to the rights of man, and ſend their armies to propagate them together; otherwiſe the correſpondence of a Frenchman will be as difficult to interpret with mercantile exactneſs as the characters of the Chineſe.
The vanity of theſe philoſophers would, doubtleſs, be gratified by forcing the reſt of Europe and the civilized world to adopt their uſeleſſ and chimerical innovations, and they might think it a triumph to ſee the inhabitant of the Hebrides date "Vendemiaire," [Alluding to the vintage.] or the parched Weſt-Indian "Nivoſe;" but vanity is not on this, as it is on many other occaſions, the leading principle.—It waſ hoped that a new arrangement of the year, and a different nomenclature of the months, ſo as to baniſh all the commemorations of Chriſtianity, might prepare the way for aboliſhing religion itſelf, and, if it were poſſible to impoſe the uſe of the new calendar ſo far as to exclude the old one, this might certainly aſſiſt their more ſerious atheiſtical operations; but as the ſucceſs of ſuch an introduction might depend on the will of the people, and is not within the competence of the bayonet, the old year will maintain its ground, and theſe pedantic triflers find that they have laboured to no more extenſive a purpoſe, than to furniſh a date to the newſpapers, or to their own decrees, which no one will take the pains to underſtand.
Mankind are in general more attached to cuſtoms than principles. The uſeful deſpotiſm of Peter, which ſubdued ſo many of the prejudices of hiſ countrymen, could not achieve the curtailment of their beards; and you muſt not imagine that, with all the endurance of the French, theſe continual attempts at innovation paſs without murmurs: partial revoltſ happen very frequently; but, as they are the ſpontaneous effect of perſonal ſuffering, not of political manoeuvre, they are without concert or union, of courſe eaſily quelled, and only ſerve to ſtrengthen the government.—The people of Amiens have lately, in one of theſe ſudden effuſions of diſcontent, burnt the tree of liberty, and even the repreſentative, Dumont, has been menaced; but theſe are only the blows of a coward who is alarmed at his own temerity, and dreads the chaſtiſement of it.*
* The whole town of Bedouin, in the ſouth of France, was burnt purſuant to a decree of the convention, to expiate the imprudence of ſome of its inhabitants in having cut down a dead tree of liberty. Above ſixty people were guillotined as accomplices, and their bodieſ thrown into pits, dug by order of the repreſentative, Magnet, (then on miſſion,) before their death. Theſe executions were ſucceeded by a conflagration of all the houſes, and the impriſonment or diſperſion of their poſſeſſors. It is likewiſe worthy of remark, that many of theſe laſt were obliged, by expreſs order of Maignet, to be ſpectators of the murder of their friends and relations.
This crime in the revolutionary code is of a very ſerious nature; and however trifling it may appear to you, it depends only on the will of Dumont to ſacrifice many lives on the occaſion. But Dumont, though erected by circumſtances into a tyrant, is not ſanguinary—he is by nature and education paſſionate and groſs, and in other times might only have been a good natured Poliſſon. Hitherto he has contented himſelf with alarming, and making people tired of their lives, but I do not believe he has been the direct or intentional cauſe of anyone's death. He has ſo often been the hero of my adventures, that I mention him familiarly to you, without reflecting, that though the delegate of more than monarchical power here, he is too inſignificant of himſelf to be known in England. But the hiſtory of Dumont is that of two-thirds of the Convention. He was originally clerk to an attorney at Abbeville, and afterwards ſet up for himſelf in a neighbouring village. His youth having been marked by ſome digreſſions from the "'haviour of reputation," his profeſſion was far from affording him a ſubſiſtence; and the revolution, which ſeems to have called forth all that was turbulent, unprincipled, or neceſſitous in the country, naturally found a partizan in an attorney without practice.—At the election of 1792, when the King's fall and the domination of the Jacobins had ſpread ſo general a terror that no man of character could be prevailed upon to be a candidate for a public ſituation, Dumont availed himſelf of this timidity and ſupineneſs in thoſe who ought to have become the repreſentatives of the people; and, by a talent for intrigue, and a coarſe facility of phraſe-making, (for he has no pretenſions to eloquence,) prevailed on the mob to elect him. His local knowledge, active diſpoſition, and ſubſervient induſtry, render him an uſeful kind of drudge to any prevailing party, and, ſince the overthrow of the Briſſotines, he haſ been entruſted with the government of this and ſome of the neighbouring departments. He profeſſes himſelf a zealous republican, and an apoſtle of the doctrine of univerſal equality, yet unites in his perſon all the attributes of deſpotiſm, and lives with more luxury and expence than moſt of the ci-devant gentry. His former habitation at Oiſemont is not much better than a good barn; but patriotiſm is more profitable here than in England, and he has lately purchaſed a large manſion belonging to an emigrant.
* "Britain no longer pays her patriots with her ſpoils:" and perhapſ it is matter of congratulation to a country, when the profeſſion of patriotiſm is not lucrative. Many agreeable inferences may be made from it—the ſentiment may have become too general for reward, Miniſters too virtuous to fear, or even the people too enlightened to be deceived.
—His mode of travelling, which uſed at beſt to be in the coche d'eau [Paſſage-boat.] or the diligence, is now in a coach and four, very frequently accompanied by a led horſe, and a party of dragoons. I fear ſome of your patriots behold this with envy, and it is not to be wondered at that they ſhould wiſh to ſee a ſimilar revolution in England. What a ſeducing proſpect for the aſſertors of liberty, to have the power of impriſoning and guillotining all their countrymen! What halcyon days, when the ariſtocratic palaceſ* ſhall be purified by ſolacing the fatigueſ of republican virtue, and the levellers of all diſtinction travel with four horſes and a military eſcort!—But, as Robeſpierre obſerves, you are two centuries behind the French in patriotiſm and information; and I doubt if Engliſh republicaniſm will ever go beyond a dinner, and toaſting the manes of Hampden and Sydney. I would, therefore, ſeriouſly adviſe any of my compatriots who may be enamoured of a government founded on the rights of man, to quit an ungrateful country which ſeems ſo little diſpoſed to reward their labours, and enjoy the ſupreme delight of men a ſyſteme, that of ſeeing their theories in action.
* Many of the emigrantſ' houſes were bought by members of the Convention, or people in office. At Paris, crouds of inferior clerks, who could not purchaſe, found means to get lodged in the moſt ſuperb national edifices: Monceaux was the villa of Robeſpierre—St. Juſt occaſionally amuſed himſelf at Raincy—Couthon ſucceed the Comte d'Artois at Bagatelle-and Vliatte, a juryman of the Revolutionary Tribunal, was lodged at the pavillion of Flora, in the Tuilleries, which he ſeems to have occupied as a ſort of Maitre d'Hotel to the Comite de Salut Public.
A propoſ—a decree of the Convention has lately paſſed to ſecure the perſon of Mr. Thomas Paine, and place ſeals on his papers. I hope, however, as he has been inſtalled in all the rights of a French citizen, in addition to his repreſentative inviolability, that nothing more than a temporary retreat is intended for him. Perhaps even his perſonal ſufferings may prove a benefit to mankind. He may, like Raleigh, "in hiſ priſon hours enrich the world," and add new proſelytes to the cauſe of freedom. Beſides, human evils are often only bleſſings in a queſtionable form—Mr. Paine's perſecutions in England made him a legiſlator in France. Who knows but his perſecutions in France may lead to ſome new advancement, or at leaſt add another line to the already crouded title-pages that announce his literary and political diſtinctionſ!
—Yours.