Paris, June 15, 1795.
I am now, after a reſidence of more than three years, amidſt the chaos of a revolution, on the eve of my departure from France. Yet, while I joyfully prepare to reviſit my own country, my mind involuntarily traceſ the rapid ſucceſſion of calamities which have filled this period, and dwells with painful contemplation on thoſe changes in the morals and condition of the French people that ſeem hitherto to be the only fruitſ which they have produced. In this recurrence to the paſt, and eſtimation of the preſent, however we may regret the perſecution of wealth, the deſtruction of commerce, and the general oppreſſion, the moſt important and irretrievable miſchief of the revolution is, doubtleſs, the corruption of manners introduced among the middle and lower claſſes of the people.
The labouring poor of France have often been deſcribed as frugal, thoughtleſs, and happy, earning, indeed, but little, yet ſpending ſtill leſs, and in general able to procure ſuch a ſubſiſtence as their habitſ and climate rendered agreeable and ſufficient.*
* Mr. Young ſeems to have been perſuaded, that the common people of France worked harder, and were worſe fed, than thoſe of the ſame deſcription in England. Yet, as far as I have had opportunity of obſerving, and from the information I have been able to procure, I cannot help ſuppoſing that this gentleman has drawn his inference partially, and that he has often compared ſome particular caſe of diſtreſs, with the general ſituation of the peaſantry in the rich counties, which are the ſcene of his experiments. The peaſantry of many diſtant parts of England fare as coarſely, and labour harder, than was common in France; and taking their habits of frugality, their diſpoſition to be ſatiſfied, and their climate into the account, the ſituation of the French perhaps was preferable. Mr. Young's Tour has been quoted very triumphantly by a Noble Lord, particularly a paſſage which laments and aſcribes to political cauſes the appearance of premature old age, obſervable in French women of the lower claſſes. Yet, for the ſatiſfaction of hiſ Lordſhip's benevolence and gallantry, I can aſſure him, that the female peaſants in France have not more laborious occupations than thoſe of England, but they wear no ſtays, and expoſe themſelves to all weathers without hats; in conſequence, loſe their ſhape, tan their complexions, and harden their features ſo as to look much older than they really are.—Mr. Young's book is tranſlated into French, and I have too high an opinion both of his principles and his talents to doubt that he muſt regret the ill effects it may have had in France, and the uſe that has been made of it in England.
—They are now become idle, profuſe, and gloomy; their poverty iſ embittered by fanciful claims to riches and a taſte for expence. They work with deſpair and unwillingneſs, becauſe they can no longer live by their labour; and, alternately the victims of intemperance or want, they are often to be found in a ſtate of intoxication, when they have not been able to ſatiſfy their hunger—for, as bread cannot always be purchaſed with paper, they procure a temporary ſupport, at the expence of their health and morals, in the deſtructive ſubſtitute of ſtrong liquors.
Thoſe of the next claſs, ſuch as working tradeſmen, artizans, and domeſtic ſervants, though leſs wretched, are far more diſſolute; and it is not uncommon in great towns to ſee men of this deſcription unite the ferociouſneſs of ſavages with all the vices of ſyſtematic profligacy. The original principles of the revolution, of themſelves, naturally tended to produce ſuch a depravation; but the ſuſpenſion of religiouſ worſhip, the conduct of the Deputies on miſſion, and the univerſal immorality of the exiſting government, muſt have conſiderably haſtened it. When the people were forbidden the exerciſe of their religion, though they did not ceaſe to be attached to it, yet they loſt the good effects which even external forms alone are calculated to produce; and while deiſm and atheiſm failed in perverting their faith, they were but too ſucceſſful in corrupting their morals.
As in all countries the reſtraints which religion impoſes are more readily ſubmitted to by the inferior ranks of life, it is theſe which muſt be moſt affected by its abolition; and we cannot wonder, that when men have been once accuſtomed to neglect the duty they conſider as moſt eſſential, they ſhould in time become capable of violating every other: for, however it may be among the learned, qui ſ'aveuglent a force de lumiere, [Who blind themſelves by exceſs of light. Deſtouchet.] with the ignorant the tranſition from religious indifference to actual vice iſ rapid and certain.
The Miſſionaries of the Convention, who for two years extended their deſtructive depredations over the departments, were every where guilty of the moſt odious exceſſes, and thoſe leaſt culpable offered examples of licentiouſneſs and intemperance with which, till then, the people had never been familiar.*
* "When the Convention was elected, (ſays Durand Maillane, ſee Report of the Committee of Legiſlation, 13th Prairial, 1ſt June,) the choice fell upon men who abuſed the name of patriot, and adopted it as a cloak for their vices.—Vainly do we inculcate juſtice, and expect the Tribunals will bring thieves and aſſaſſins to puniſhment, if we do not puniſh thoſe amongſt ourſelves.—Vainly ſhall we talk of republican manners and democratic government, while our repreſentatives carry into the departments examples of deſpotiſm and corruption." The conduct of theſe civilized banditti has been ſufficiently deſcribed. Allard, Lacoſte, Mallarme, Milhaud, Laplanche, Moneſtier, Guyardin, Sergent, and many others, were not only ferocious and extravagant, but known to have been guilty of the meaneſt thefts. Javoques is alledged to have ſacrificed two hundred people of Montibriſon, and to have ſtolen a vaſt quantity of their effects. It was common for him to ſay, that he acknowledged as true patriots thoſe only who, like himſelf, "etaient capables de boire une verre de ſang,"—("were capable of drinking a glaſs of blood.") D'Artigoyte diſtinguiſhed himſelf by ſuch ſcandalous violations of morals and decency, that they are not fit to be recited. He often obliged married women, by menaces, to bring their daughters to the Jacobin clubs, for the purpoſe of inſulting them with the groſſeſt obſcenities.—Having a project of getting up a play for hiſ amuſement, he cauſed it to be declared, that thoſe who had any talents for acting, and did not preſent themſelves, ſhould be impriſoned as ſuſpects. And it is notorious, that this ſame Deputy once inſulted all the women preſent at the theatre, and, after uſing the moſt obſcene language for ſome time, concluded by ſtripping himſelf entirely in preſence of the ſpectators. Report of the Committee of Legiſlation, 13th Prairial (1ſt of June). Lacoſte and Baudet, when they were on miſſion at Straſburgh, lived in daily riot and intoxication with the members of the Revolutionary Tribunal, who, after qualifying themſelves in theſe orgies, proceeded to condemn all the priſoners brought before them.—During the debate following the above quoted report, Dentzel accuſed Lacoſte, among other larcenies, of having purloined ſome ſhirtſ belonging to himſelf; and addreſſing Lacoſte, who was preſent in the Aſſembly, with true democratic frankneſs, adds, "Je ſuis ſur qu'il en a une ſur le corps."—("I am certain he has one of them on at this moment.") Debate, 1ſt of June. The following is a tranſlation of a letter from Piorry, Repreſentative of the People, to the popular ſociety of Poitiers:— "My honeſt and determined Sans Culottes, as you ſeemed to deſire a Deputy amongſt you who has never deviated from the right principles, that is to ſay, a true Mountaineeer, I fulfil your wiſhes in ſending you the Citizen Ingrand.—Remember, honeſt and determined Sanſ Culottes, that with the ſanction of the patriot Ingrand, you may do every thing, obtain every thing, deſtroy every thing—impriſon all, try all, tranſport all, or guillotine all. Don't ſpare him a moment; and thus, through his means, all may tremble, every thing be ſwept away, and, finally, be re-eſtabliſhed in laſting order. (Signed) "Piorry." The gentleman who tranſlated the above for me, ſubjoined, that he had omitted various oaths too bad for tranſlation.—This Piorry always attended the executions, and as faſt as a head fell, uſed to wave his hat in the air, and cry, "Vive la Republique!" Such are the founders of the French Republic, and ſuch the means by which it has been ſupported!
—It may be admitted, that the lives of the higher Nobleſſe were not always edifying; but if their diſſipation was public, their vices were leſs ſo, and the ſcenes of both were for the moſt part confined to Paris. What they did not practiſe themſelves, they at leaſt did not diſcourage in others; and though they might be too indolent to endeavour at preſerving the morals of their dependents, they knew their own intereſt too well to aſſiſt in depraving them.
But the Repreſentatives, and their agents, are not to be conſidered merely as individuals who have corrupted only by example;—they were armed with unlimited authority, and made proſelytes through fear, where they failed to produce them from inclination. A contempt for religion or decency has been conſidered as the teſt of an attachment to the government; and a groſs infraction of any moral or ſocial duty as a proof of civiſm, and a victory over prejudice. Whoever dreaded an arreſt, or courted an office, affected profaneneſs and profligacy—and, doubtleſs, many who at firſt aſſumed an appearance of vice from timidity, in the end contracted a preference for it. I myſelf know inſtances of ſeveral who began by deploring that they were no longer able to practiſe the dutieſ of their religion, and ended by ridiculing or fearing them. Induſtriouſ mechanics, who uſed to go regularly to maſs, and beſtow their weekly liard on the poor, after a month's revolutioniſing, in the ſuite of a Deputy, have danced round the flames which conſumed the ſacred writings, and become as licentious and diſhoneſt as their leader.
The general principles of the Convention have been adapted to ſanction and accelerate the labours of their itinerant colleagues. The ſentenceſ of felons were often reverſed, in conſideration of their "patriotiſm"— women of ſcandalous lives have been penſioned, and complimented publicly —and various decrees paſſed, all tending to promote a national diſſoluteneſs of manners.*
* Among others, a decree which gave all illegitimate children a claim to an equal participation in the property of the father to whom they ſhould (at the diſcretion of the mother) be attributed.
—The evil propenſities of our nature, which penal laws and moraliſtſ vainly contend againſt, were foſtered by praiſe, and ſtimulated by reward—all the eſtabliſhed diſtinctions of right and wrong confounded— and a ſyſtem of revolutionary ethics adopted, not leſs incompatible with the happineſs of mankind than revolutionary politics.
Thus, all the purpoſes for which this general demoralization waſ promoted, being at length attained, thoſe who were rich having been pillaged, thoſe who were feared maſſacred, and a croud of needy and deſperate adventurers attached to the fate of the revolution, the expediency of a reform has lately been ſuggeſted. But the miſchief iſ already irreparable. Whatever was good in the national character iſ vitiated; and I do not ſcruple to aſſert, that the revolution has both deſtroyed the morals of the people, and rendered their condition leſſ happy*—that they are not only removed to a greater diſtance from the poſſeſſion of rational liberty, but are become more unfit for it than ever.
* It has been aſſerted, with a view to ſerve the purpoſes of party, that the condition of the lower claſſes in France was mended by the revolution. If thoſe who advance this were not either partial or ill-informed, they would obſerve that the largeſſes of the Convention are always intended to palliate ſome miſery, the conſequence of the revolution, and not to baniſh what is ſaid to have exiſted before. For the moſt part, theſe philanthropic projects are never carried into effect, and when they are, it is to anſwer political purpoſes.—For inſtance, many idle people are kept in pay to applaud at the debates and executions, and aſſignats are diſtributed to thoſe who have ſons ſerving in the army. The tendency of both theſe donations needs no comment. The laſt, which is the moſt ſpecious, only affords a means of temporary profuſion to people whoſe children are no incumbrance to them, while ſuch as have numerous and helpleſs families, are left without aſſiſtance. Even the pooreſt people now regard the national paper with contempt; and, perſuaded it muſt ſoon be of no value, they eagerly ſquander whatever they receive, without care for the future.
As I have frequently, in the courſe of theſe letters, had occaſion to quote from the debates of the Convention, and other recent publications, I ought to obſerve that the French language, like every thing elſe in the country, has been a ſubject of innovation—new words have been invented, the meaning of old ones has been changed, and a ſort of jargon, compounded of the appropriate terms of various arts and ſciences, introduced, which habit alone can render intelligible. There is ſcarcely a report read in the Convention that does not exhibit every poſſible example of the Bathos, together with more conceits than are to be found in a writer of the ſixteenth century; and I doubt whether any of their projects of legiſlation or finance would be underſtood by Monteſquieu or Colbert.
But the ſtyle moſt difficult to be comprehended by foreigners, is that of the newſpapers; for the dread of offending government ſo entirely poſſeſſes the imagination of thoſe who compoſe ſuch publications, that it is not often eaſy to diſtinguiſh a victory from a defeat, by the language in which it is conveyed. The common news of the day is worded aſ cautiouſly as though it were to be the ſubject of judicial diſquiſition; and the real tendency of an article is ſometimes ſo much at variance with its comment, that the whole, to a curſory peruſer, may ſeem deſtitute of any meaning at all. Time, however, has produced a ſort of intelligence between news-writers and their readerſ—and rejoicings, lamentations, praiſe, or cenſure, are, on particular occaſions, underſtood to convey the reverſe of what they expreſs.
The affected moderation of the government, and the aſcendency which ſome of the Briſſotin party are beginning to take in it, ſeem to flatter the public with the hope of peace. They forget that theſe men were the authors of the war, and that a few months impriſonment has neither expiated their crimes, nor ſubdued their ambition. It is the great advantage of the Briſſotins, that the revolutionary tyranny which they had contributed to eſtabliſh, was wreſted from them before it had taken its full effect; but thoſe who appreciate their original claims, without regard to their ſufferings under the perſecution of a party, are diſpoſed to expect they will not be leſs tenacious of power, nor leſs arbitrary in the exerciſe of it than any of the intervening factions. The preſent government is compoſed of ſuch diſcordant elements, that their very union betrays that they are in fact actuated by no principle, except the general one of retaining their authority. Lanjuinais, Louvet, Saladin, Danou, &c. are now leagued with Tallien, Freron, Dubois de Crance, and even Carnot.
At the head of this motley aſſemblage of Briſſotins, Orleaniſts, and Robeſpierrians, is Sieyeſ—who, with perhaps leſs honeſty, though more cunning, than either, deſpiſes and dupes them all. At a moment when the Convention had fallen into increaſed contempt, and when the public affairs could no longer be conducted by fabricators of reports and framers of decrees, the talents of this ſiniſter politician became neceſſary; yet he enjoys neither the confidence of his colleagues nor that of the people—the vanity and duplicity of his conduct diſguſt and alarm the firſt, while his reputation of partizan of the Duke of Orleanſ is a reaſon for ſuſpicion in the latter. But if Sieyes has never been able to conciliate eſteem, nor attain popularity, he has at length poſſeſſed himſelf of power, and will not eaſily be induced to relinquiſh it.—Many are of opinion, that he is ſecretly machinating for the ſon of his former patron; but whether he means to govern in the name of the Duke of Orleans, or in that of the republic, it is certain, had the French any liberty to loſe, it never could have found a more ſubtle and dangerouſ enemy.*
* The Abbe, in his "notices ſur la Vie de Sieyes," declares that his contempt and deteſtation of the colleagues "with whom hiſ unfortunate ſtars had connected him," were ſo great, that he determined, from his firſt arrival at the Convention, to take no part in public affairs. As theſe were his original ſentiments of the Aſſembly, perhaps he may hereafter explain by which of their operations his eſteem was ſo much reconciled, that he haſ condeſcended to become their leader.
Paris may, without exaggeration, be deſcribed as in a ſtate of famine. The markets are ſcantily ſupplied, and bread, except the little diſtributed by order of the government, not to be obtained: yet the inhabitants, for the moſt part, are not turbulent—they have learned too late, that revolutions are not the ſource of plenty, and, though they murmur and execrate their rulers, they abſtain from violence, and ſeem rather inclined to yield to deſpair, than to ſeek revenge. This is one proof, among a variety of others, that the deſpotiſm under which the French have groaned for the laſt three years, has much ſubdued the vivacity and impatience of the national character; for I know of no period in their hiſtory, when ſuch a combination of perſonal ſuffering and political diſcontent, as exiſts at preſent, would not have produced ſome ſerious convulſion.