The wearing of moustaches by the French cavalry was a new idea, and the infantry soon adopted the same method of producing a "savage appearance." The British soldier of the period, on the other hand, prided himself on his clean-shaved face, with, at the most, a suspicion of side whisker, cut square with the line of the mouth. "Shaved clean, and with the hair neatly tied and powdered," was the regulation. Moustaches were not worn in the British army until many years after Waterloo, and the order to wear them was received with suspicion and dislike, being regarded as an attempt to Frenchify the British army. It is recorded of one famous cavalry regiment that the officers paid no attention to the order until the inspecting general made strong comments on their shaved upper lips, and ordered the colonel to enforce the moustache regulation. Within a few days each officer appeared on parade fully equipped with a false moustache, and this appendage was removed when parade was over. How long this continued is not stated, but for a long time the officers of this particular regiment were observed to be clean shaved when in plain clothes and heavily moustached when in uniform. The British infantry shaved the upper lip almost up to Crimean times.
But the Frenchmen's moustaches did not impress young Rice in 1792, for he regarded the Republican soldiers as effete and useless, and likely to become an easy prey to the invading Austrians and Prussians. His dislike for the French as a nation was intense, and he prayed for their downfall. "I think the French," he wrote, "a parcel of d—d rascals, and I heartily hope the Austrians will give them a good thrashing. We are to have a garrison of six thousand men here, for they expect this town to be attacked by the Austrians, who propose to burn the place by firing red-hot bullets, and so pass over its ashes to Brussels." As events turned out, St Omer was not attacked, but it was hardly the place for quiet study, and it is wonderful that, under such circumstances, the boy learned anything. As an experience, his seven months' residence in France must have been full of interest and excitement. He lived, as it were, on the outskirts of the fight—at times with the enemy's guns within earshot, and he constantly saw troops marching to the front to the tune of "Ça ira." He lived also in the midst of the Revolution, for although St Omer itself was comparatively quiet, the accounts which came from Paris sickened him and filled him with righteous indignation. In one of his letters he mentions that he has just heard of the massacre of some thousands of Aristocrats in Paris, and he gives vent to his feelings in no measured terms. "The cruelties and barbarities which have been committed will ever be a stain upon the national character. This French nation, which was once the most gentle, has now by its cruelties rendered itself the most savage and barbarous. I am now a strong Aristocrat, and I should imagine that people in England who favoured the Revolution must have changed their opinions since the recent horrible massacre in Paris."
It was, however, one thing to declare himself an Aristocrat in a letter home, but quite another thing to let it be known in St Omer, and he admits sailing under false colours, in that he wore "the cockaded tricolour, decreed by the National Assembly." He excuses himself thus: "If you were to appear without one, you would be mobbed and called 'Aristocrat' by every saucy boy in the street. So much so that one of the actors last night at the Playhouse, during the time he was performing, was shouted to for his cockade, and they would not let him perform without it. One of the others brought him one, which he put to his breast, but that did not satisfy the audience, for they shouted again à chapeau, and he was obliged to put it in his hat, to save himself from a broken head."
Though Sam Rice held French revolutionary methods in general abhorrence, he appears to have approved of the treatment dealt out to the religious orders, for, in describing events at St Omer, he says: "The nuns are all going to be turned out of their convents, and also the friars. Most of them have been sent away, and there only remains one church of them, from which they will be speedily dislodged. There were twelve capital houses with nice gardens which those rascals the monks inhabited—one for each, and they were allowed a considerable sum for their maintenance; but now the people have seen what rogues they were, and have turned them out neck and crop, and have sent them into the country to live upon twelve pounds a-year. Their library and church are turned into magazines for hay and different stores, and all the religious houses are to be converted into barracks for the soldiers." It is perhaps worthy of remark that eighteen of these persecuted Jesuit fathers of St Omer were granted, in 1794, an asylum in England, and, bringing with them several of their pupils, founded Stonyhurst College, for the education of Roman Catholics.
As time went on, the cloud over France grew blacker, and by the end of August the young English student was rejoicing in the thought that the defeat of the French army by the Allies was about to be realised, though he gave the French credit for offering a stubborn resistance. "The French," he wrote on the 28th August (1792), "now that they have so long enjoyed their liberty, will never, I think, submit to a despotic government, and I believe that some would sooner blow themselves up in their towns than capitulate. They seem not to have the least idea that the enemy can enter into the kingdom, but I am very much of opinion that he will do so sooner than the French expect, and in that event the Prussians[3] will play the devil with them. The Duke of Brunswick in his manifesto was very severe. He said that all who did not submit to him, when his troops presented themselves before the towns, would be put, every one, to the sword, when taken; and he wrote especially to the Parisians, against whom he has vowed vengeance. Three parts of the officers of the army which was Lafayette's have deserted, and Lukener is suspended. It was reported that Lafayette had deserted, but it is said now that he has been stopped in endeavouring to escape with the caisse militaire. In my opinion, the situation is very bad. Longwy, a town on the frontier, is besieged by the Prussians. If they take it (and most probably they will), they may march straight for Paris, as there are no other fortified towns to obstruct their passage. Success attend them! I long to hear of their arrival at Paris. We are very quiet at St Omer, and most probably we shall continue so, as the Prussians do not seem to be inclined to make their attack on this side. Wednesday evening.—I have just read in the 'Gazette' that Longwy is taken. The King of Prussia, at the head of his army, made the attack, and took the town in less than fifteen hours."
On the 7th September, just after the news of the September massacres had reached him, he discussed the situation again: "The Allies have already taken two towns—Longwy and Verdun, and there are no fortified towns between them and Paris, but it seems to me that they cannot reach Paris without an immense army, otherwise they will be cut to pieces by the French armies. They say that on Sunday and Monday two thousand Aristocrats were massacred in Paris in the prisons."
His next letter was dated October 3, and in it he makes no mention of the brilliant victory of the French at Valmy, where, on the 20th September, Kellermann defeated the Prussians under the Duke of Brunswick, and thus gave heart to the Republican forces. He must have known of the victory, and he may have already referred to it in a letter which has not been preserved, for he seems to have begun to fear that all was not going well with the Allies. "I make no doubt but what you have heard," he says, "that Lille is besieged. My father, I am afraid, will be anxious for my safety, but I assure you as yet there is nothing to cause anxiety; neither do I think that there will be. It is not possible that they can take Lille, as it is one of the strongest towns in France, and has a garrison which is determined to hold out to the last. They have kept up a brisk cannonading for these two or three days past, and even here I can hear the report of the cannons very distinctly. Most people think that it is only a false attack to draw off the French armies from Verdun, where the Prussians are being kept blocked up. I think this most probable, as they would never attempt to attack such a place as Lille with only 20,000 men. Lille is very much damaged, as the enemy fire red-hot balls, which, of course, have set fire to a great many houses. Numbers of people are saving themselves from Lille and taking shelter in St Omer. They come, some in carriages, with their children; others in carts, with their household furniture; and a pitiful sight it is to see the poor women and children reduced to such extremities. I was up at half after five this morning to see a regiment depart for Lille, and I was very well amused for my pains. The soldiers seemed to wear a melancholy air, though they marched to the tune of 'Ça ira,' which generally gives them courage and consolation."
The postscript to this letter shows that even an English visitor had to fall in with republican views: "You must direct to me, 'A Citoien Rice, chez Citoien Boudeille, Rue de l'Egalité, St Omer,' for you know that the title Monsieur has been abolished."
With regard to Lille (Lisle) Citizen Rice's forecast was correct; for, on the 7th October, the Prussians raised the siege and departed, thus shattering Rice's hopes of a speedy occupation of Paris by the Allies. The Duke of Brunswick's manifesto, which he mentioned in a previous letter, did more harm than good, as the insolence of its tone irritated the French into deposing their king forthwith, massacring Aristocrats wholesale in Paris, and putting forth all their strength to defeat the Austrians and Prussians. In this they succeeded beyond all expectation, for the victory of Valmy was repeated at Jemappes (November 6); and, a week later, the French entered Brussels and occupied the Austrian Netherlands. St Omer appears now to have settled down to comparative quiet, and the young Englishman to his studies and amusements; but, before the end of the year, his father began to be anxious about the state of affairs in France, and wrote, "the complexion of the times is such as, in my opinion, renders it no longer proper for a young man designed for the British army to remain in France." The people of England realised that the climax was approaching. A revulsion of feeling against the French had set in with the suspension of King Louis in August; the September massacres had increased it; and the arraignment of the unfortunate king on December 11 raised it to boiling-point. Neither was this all, for England saw in the high-handed acts of the victorious Revolutionary leaders a menace to the "rights and liberties of Europe."
Sam Rice, therefore, quitted France early in December, only a month before his return would have been made compulsory by the French Government, when, upon the execution of Louis XVI. (January 21, 1793), an open rupture occurred between England and France. His education was now considered to be complete, and his father set to work to obtain for him a commission in the army.