March 5, 1794.
Of what ſtrange influence is this word revolution, that it ſhould thus, like a taliſman of romance, keep inchained, as it were, the reaſoning faculties of twenty millions of people! France is at this moment looking for the deciſion of its fate in the quarrels of two miſerable clubs, compoſed of individuals who are either deſpiſed or deteſted. The municipality of Paris favours the Cordeliers, the Convention the Jacobins; and it is eaſy to perceive, that in this cafe the auxiliarieſ are principals, and muſt ſhortly come to ſuch an open rupture, as will end in the deſtruction of either one or the other. The world would be uninhabitable, could the combinations of the wicked be permanent; and it is fortunate for the tranquil and upright part of mankind, that the attainment of the purpoſes for which ſuch combinations are formed, iſ uſually the ſignal of their diſſolution.
The municipality of Paris had been the iniquitous drudges of the Jacobin party in the legiſlative aſſembly—they were made the inſtruments of maſſacring the priſoners,* of dethroning and executing the king,** and ſucceſſively of deſtroying the Briſſotine faction,*** filling the priſonſ with all who were obnoxious to the republicans,**** and of involving a repentant nation in the irremidiable guilt of the Queen's death.—*****
* It is well known that the aſſaſſins were hired and paid by the municipality, and that ſome of the members preſided at theſe horrorſ in their ſcarfs of office. ** The whole of what is called the revolution of the 10th of Auguſt may very juſtly be aſcribed to the municipality of Pariſ—I mean the active part of it. The planning and political part has been ſo often diſputed by different members of the Convention, that it iſ not eaſy to decide on any thing, except that the very terms of theſe diſputes fully evince, that the people at large, and more particularly the departments, were both innocent, and, until it took place, ignorant of an event which has plunged the country into ſo many crimes and calamities. *** A former impriſonment of Hebert formed a principal charge againſt the Briſſotines, and, indeed, the one that was moſt inſiſted on at their trial, if we except that of having precipitated France into a war with England.—It muſt be difficult for the Engliſh Jacobins to decide on this occaſion between the virtues of their dead friends and thoſe of their living ones. **** The famous definition of ſuſpected perſons originated with the municipality of Paris. ***** It is certain that thoſe who, deceived by the calumnies of faction, permitted, if not aſſented to, the King's death, at thiſ time regretted it; and I believe I have before obſerved, that one of the reaſons urged in ſupport of the expediency of putting the Queen to death, was, that it would make the army and people deciſive, by baniſhing all hope of peace or accommodation. See the Moniteur of that time, which, as I have elſewhere obſerved, may be alwayſ conſidered as official.
—Theſe ſervices being too great for adequate reward, were not rewarded at all; and the municipality, tired of the odium of crime, without the participation of power, has ſeized on its portion of tyranny; while the convention, at once jealous and timid, exaſperated and doubtful, yet menaces with the trepidation of a rival, rather than with the ſecurity of a conqueror.
Hebert, the Deputy-ſolicitor for the commune of Paris, appears on thiſ occaſion as the opponent of the whole legiſlature; and all the temporizing eloquence of Barrere, and the myſterious phraſeology of Robeſpierre, are employed to decry his morals, and to reproach the miniſters with the ſums which have been the price of his labours.—*
* Five thouſand pounds, two thouſand pounds, and other conſiderable ſums, were paid to Hebert for ſupplying the army with his paper, called "La Pere Duchene." Let whoever has read one of them, conceive the nature of a government to which ſuch ſupport waſ neceſſary, which ſuppoſed its intereſts promoted by a total extinction of morals, decency, and religion. I could almoſt wiſh, for the ſake of exhibiting vice under its moſt odious colours, that my ſex and my country permitted me to quote one.
—Virtuous republicanſ! the morals of Hebert were pure when he outraged humanity in his accuſations of the Queen—they were pure when he proſtrated the ſtupid multitude at the feet of a Goddeſs of Reaſon;* they were pure while his execrable paper ſerved to corrupt the army, and to eradicate every principle which yet diſtinguiſhed the French as a civilized people.
* Madame Momoro, the unfortunate woman who expoſed herſelf in thiſ pageant, was guillotined as an accomplice of Hebert, together with the wives of Hebert and Camille Deſmoulins.
—Yet, atrocious as his crimes are, they form half the Magna Charta of the republic,* and the authority of the Convention is ſtill ſupported by them.
* What are the death of the King, and the murders of Auguſt and September, 1792, but the Magna Charta of the republicans?
—It is his perſon, not his guilt, that is proſcribed; and if the one be threatened with the ſcaffold, the fruits of the other are held ſacred. He will fall a ſacrifice—not to offended religion or morality, but to the fears and reſentment of his accompliceſ!
Amidſt the diſſentions of two parties, between which neither reaſon nor humanity can diſcover a preference, a third ſeems to have formed itſelf, equally inimical to, and hated by both. At the head of it are Danton, Camille Deſmoulins, Philipeaux, &c.—I own I have no better opinion of the integrity of theſe, than of the reſt; but they profeſs themſelves the advocates of a ſyſtem of mildneſs and moderation, and, ſituated as thiſ country is at preſent, even the affectation of virtue is captivating.— As far as they dare, the people are partial to them: bending beneath the weight of a ſanguinary and turbulent deſpotiſm, if they ſigh not for freedom, they do for repoſe; and the haraſſed mind, bereft of its own energy, looks up with indolent hope for relief from a change of factions. They forget that Danton is actuated by ambitious jealouſy, that Camille Deſmoulins is hacknied in the atrocities of the revolution, and that their partizans are adventurers, with neither honour nor morals. Yet, after all, if they will deſtroy a few of the guillotines, open our baſtilles, and give us at leaſt the ſecurity of ſervitude, we ſhall be content to leave theſe retroſpections to poſterity, and be thankful that in this our day the wicked ſometimes perceive it their intereſt to do good.
In this ſtate of ſecluſion, when I remark to you the temper of the public at any important criſis, you are, perhaps, curious to know my ſources of intelligence; but ſuch details are unneceſſary. I might, indeed, write you a manuel des priſons, and, like Trenck or Latude, by a vain diſplay of ingenuity, deprive ſome future victim of a reſource. It is enough, that Providence itſelf ſeems to aid our invention, when its object is to elude tyranny; beſides that a conſtant acceſſion of priſoners from all parts, who are too numerous to be kept ſeparate, neceſſarily circulateſ among us whatever paſſes in the world.
The Convention has lately made a ſort of pas retrogade [Retrogade movement.] in the doctrine of holy equality, by decreeing, that every officer who has a command ſhall be able to read and write, though it cannot be denied that their reaſons for this leſe democratie are of ſome weight. All gentlemen, or, as it is expreſſed here, nobleſſe, have been recalled from the army, and replaced by officers choſen by the ſoldierſ themſelves, [Under the rank of field-officers.] whoſe affections are often conciliated by qualities not eſſentially military, though ſometimeſ profeſſional. A buffoon, or a pot-companion, is, of courſe, often more popular than a diſciplinarian; and the brighteſt talents loſe their influence when put in competition with a head that can bear a greater number of bottles.*
* Hence it happened, that a poſt was ſometimes confided to one who could not read the parole and counterſign; expeditions failed, becauſe commanding officers miſtook on the map a river for a road, or woods for mountains; and the moſt ſecret orders were betrayed through the inability of thoſe to whom they were entruſted to read them.
—Yet this reading and writing are a ſort of ariſtocratic diſtinctions, and not among the primeval rights of man; ſo that it is poſſible your Engliſh patriots will not approve of any regulations founded on them. But this is not the only point on which there is an apparent diſcordance between them and their friends here—the ſeverity of Meſſrs. Muir and Palmer's ſentence is pathetically lamented in the Houſe of Commons, while the Tribunal Revolutionnaire (in obedience to private orders) iſ petitioning, that any diſreſpect towards the convention ſhall be puniſhed with death. In England, it is aſſerted, that the people have a right to decide on the continuation of the war—here it is propoſed to declare ſuſpicious, and treat accordingly, all who ſhall dare talk of peace.—Mr. Fox and Robeſpierre muſt ſettle theſe trifling variations at the general congreſs of republicans, when the latter ſhall (as they profeſs) have dethroned all the potentates in Europe!
Do you not read of cart-loads of patriotic gifts,* bales of lint and bandages, and ſtockings, knit by the hands of fair citizens, for the uſe of the ſoldiers?
* A ſum of money was at this time publicly offered to the Convention for defraying the expences and repairs of the guillotine.—I know not if it were intended patriotically or correctionally; but the legiſlative delicacy was hurt, and the bearer of the gift ordered for examination to the Committee of General Safety, who moſt probably ſent him to expiate either his patriotiſm or his pleaſantry in a priſon.
—Do you not read, and call me calumniator, and aſk if theſe are proofſ that there is no public ſpirit in France? Yes, the public ſpirit of an eaſtern tributary, who offers, with apprehenſive devotion, a part of the wealth which he fears the hand of deſpotiſm may raviſh entirely.—The wives and daughters of huſbands and fathers, who are pining in arbitrary confinement, are employed in theſe feeble efforts, to deprecate the malice of their perſecutors; and theſe voluntary tributes are but too often proportioned, not to the abilities, but the miſeries of the donor.*
* A lady, confined in one of the ſtate priſons, made an offering, through the hands of a Deputy, of ten thouſand livres; but the Convention obſerved, that this could not properly be deemed a gift— for, as ſhe was doubtleſs a ſuſpicious perſon, all ſhe had belonged of right to the republic:
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"Elle doit etre a moi, dit il, et la raiſon, "C'eſt que je m'appelle Lion "A cela l'on n'a rien a dire." — La Fontaine. |
Sometimes theſe dons patriotiqueſ were collected by a band of Jacobins, at others regularly aſſeſſed by a Repreſentative on miſſion; but on all occaſions the ariſtocrats were moſt aſſiduouſ and moſt liberal:
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"Urg'd by th' imperious ſoldier's fierce command, "The groaning Greeks break up their golden caverns, "The accumulated wealth of toiling ages; . . . . . . . . "That wealth, too ſacred for their country's uſe; "That wealth, too pleaſing to be loſt for freedom, "That wealth, which, granted to their weeping Prince, "Had rang'd embattled nations at their gates." — Johnſon. |
Or, what is ſtill better, have relieved the exigencies of the ſtate, without offering a pretext for the horrors of a revolution.—O ſelfiſh luxury, impolitic avarice, how are ye puniſhed? robbed of your enjoyments and your wealth—glad even to commute both for a painful exiſtence!
—The moſt ſplendid ſacrifices that fill the bulletin of the Convention, and claim an honourable mention in their regiſters, are made by the enemies of the republican government—by thoſe who have already been the objects of perſecution, or are fearful of becoming ſuch.—Ah, your priſon and guillotine are able financiers: they raiſe, feed, and clothe an army, in leſs time than you can procure a tardy vote from the moſt complaiſant Houſe of Commonſ!—Your, &c.