—Even the priſons were inſultingly decorated with the mockery of colours, which, we are told, are the emblems of freedom; and thoſe whoſe relations have expired on the ſcaffold, or who are pining in dungeons for having heard a maſs, were obliged to liſten with apparent admiration to a diſcourſe on the charms of religious liberty.—The people, who, for the moſt part, took little intereſt in the reſt of this pantomime, and inſenſible of the national diſgrace it implied, beheld with ſtupid ſatiſfaction* the inſcription on the temple of reaſon replaced by a legend, ſignifying that, in this age of ſcience and information, the French find it neceſſary to declare their acknowledgment of a God, and their belief in the immortality of the ſoul.
* Much has been ſaid of the partial ignorance of the unfortunate inhabitants of La Vendee, and divers republican ſcribblers attribute their attachment to religion and monarchy to that cauſe: yet at Havre, a ſea-port, where, from commercial communication, I ſhould ſuppoſe the people as informed and civilized as in any other part of France, the ears of piety and decency were aſſailed, during the celebration above-mentioned, by the acclamations of, "Vive le Pere Eternel!"—"Vive l'etre Supreme!"—(I entreat that I may not be ſuſpected of levity when I tranſlate this; in Engliſh it would be "God Almighty for ever! The Supreme Being for ever!")
—At Avignon the public underſtanding ſeems to have been equally enlightened, if we may judge from the report of a Paris miſſionary, who writes in theſe terms:—"The celebration in honour of the Supreme Being was performed here yeſterday with all poſſible pomp: all our country-folks were preſent, and unſpeakably content that there was ſtill a God—What a fine decree (cried they all) is thiſ!"
My laſt letter was a record of the moſt odious barbaritieſ—to-day I am deſcribing a feſtival. At one period I have to remark the deſtruction of the ſaintſ—at another the adoration of Marat. One half of the newſpaper is filled with a liſt of names of the guillotined, and the other with that of places of amuſement; and every thing now more than ever markſ that deteſtable aſſociation of cruelty and levity, of impiety and abſurdity, which has uniformly characterized the French revolution. It is become a crime to feel, and a mode to affect a brutality incapable of feeling—the perſecution of Chriſtianity has made atheiſm a boaſt, and the danger of reſpecting traditional virtues has hurried the weak and timid into the apotheoſis of the moſt abominable vices. Conſcious that they are no longer animated by enthuſiaſm,* the Pariſians hope to imitate it by ſavage fury or ferocious mirth—their patriotiſm is ſignalized only by their zeal to deſtroy, and their attachment to their government only by applauding its cruelties.—If Robeſpierre, St. Juſt, Collot d'Herbois, and the Convention as their inſtruments, deſolate and maſſacre half France, we may lament, but we can ſcarcely wonder at it. How ſhould a ſet of baſe and needy adventurers refrain from an abuſe of power more unlimited than that of the moſt deſpotic monarch; or how diſtinguiſh the general abhorrence, amid addreſſes of adulation, which Louis the Fourteenth would have bluſhed to appropriate?*
* Louis the Fourteenth, aguerri (ſteeled) as he was by ſixty yearſ of adulation and proſperity, had yet modeſty ſufficient to reject a "doſe of incenſe which he thought too ſtrong." (See D'Alembert'ſ Apology for Clermont Tonnerre.) Republicaniſm, it ſhould ſeem, haſ not diminiſhed the national compliaſance for men in power, thought it has leſſened the modeſty of thoſe who exerciſe it.—If Louis the Fourteenth repreſſed the zeal of the academicians, the Convention publiſh, without ſcruple, addreſſes more hyperbolical than the praiſes that monarch refuſed.—Letters are addreſſed to Robeſpierre under the appellation of the Meſſiah, ſent by the almighty for the reform of all thingſ! He is the apoſtle of one, and the tutelar deity of another. He is by turns the repreſentative of the virtueſ individually, and a compendium of them altogether: and this monſter, whoſe features are the counterpart of his ſoul, find republican paraſites who congratulate themſelves on reſembling him.
The bulletins of the Convention announce, that the whole republic is in a ſort of revolutionary tranſport at the eſcape of Robeſpierre and hiſ colleague, Collot d'Herbois, from aſſaſſination; and that we may not ſuppoſe the legiſlators at large deficient in ſenſibility, we learn alſo that they not only ſhed their grateful tears on this affecting occaſion, but have ſettled a penſion on the man who was inſtrumental in reſcuing the benign Collot.
The members of the Committee are not, however, the excluſive objects of public adoration—the whole Convention are at times incenſed in a ſtyle truly oriental; and if this be ſometimes done with more zeal than judgment, it does not appear to be leſs acceptable on that account. A petition from an incarcerated poet aſſimilates the mountain of the Jacobins to that of Parnaſſuſ—a ſtate-creditor importunes for a ſmall payment from the Gods of Olympuſ—and congratulations on the abolition of Chriſtianity are offered to the legiſlators of Mount Sinai! Every inſtance of baſeneſs calls forth an eulogium on their magnanimity. A ſcore of orators harangue them daily on their courage, while they are over-awed by deſpots as mean as themſelves and whom they continue to reinſtal at the ſtated period with clamorous approbation. They proſcribe, devaſtate, burn, and maſſacre—and permit themſelves to be addreſſed by the title of "Fathers of their Country!"
All this would be inexplicable, if we did not contemplate in the French a nation where every faculty is abſorbed by a terror which involves a thouſand contradictions. The rich now ſeek protection by becoming members of clubs,* and are happy if, after various mortifications, they are finally admitted by the mob who compoſe them; while families, that heretofore piqued themſelves on a voluminous and illuſtrious genealogy,** eagerly endeavour to prove they have no claim to either.
* Le diplome de Jacobin etait une eſpece d'amulette, dont leſ inities etaient jaloux, et qui frappoit de preſtiges ceux qui ne l'etaient paſ—"The Jacobin diploma was a kind of amulet, which the initiated were jealous of preſerving, and which ſtruck as it were with witchcraft, thoſe who were not of the number." Rapport de Courtois ſur les Papiers de Robeſpierre. ** Beſides thoſe who, being really noble, were anxious to procure certificates of ſans-cullotiſm, many who had aſſumed ſuch honourſ without pretenſions now relinquiſhed them, except indeed ſome few, whoſe vanity even ſurmounted their fears. But an expreſs law included all theſe ſeceders in the general proſcription; alledging, with a candour not uſual, that thoſe who aſſumed rank were, in fact, more criminal than ſuch as were guilty of being born to it. —Places and employments, which are in moſt countries the objects of intrigue and ambition, are here refuſed or relinquiſhed with ſuch perfect ſincerity, that a decree became requiſite to oblige every one, under pain of durance, to preſerve the ſtation to which his ill ſtars, miſtaken politics, or affectation of patriotiſm, had called him. Were it not for this law, ſuch is the dreadful reſponſibility and danger attending offices under the government, that even low and ignorant people, who have got poſſeſſion of them merely for ſupport, would prefer their original poverty to emoluments which are perpetually liable to the commutation of the guillotine.—Some members of a neighbouring diſtrict told me to-day, when I aſked them if they came to releaſe any of our fellow-priſoners, that ſo far from it, they had not only brought more, but were not certain twelve hours together of not being brought themſelves.
The viſionary equality of metaphyſical impoſtors is become a ſubſtantial one—not conſtituted by abundance and freedom, but by want and oppreſſion. The diſparities of nature are not repaired, but its whole ſurface is levelled by a ſtorm. The rich are become poor, but the poor ſtill remain ſo; and both are conducted indiſcriminately to the ſcaffold. The priſons of the former government were "petty to the endſ" of this. Convents, colleges, palaces, and every building which could any how be adapted to ſuch a purpoſe, have been filled with people deemed ſuſpicious;* and a plan of deſtruction ſeems reſolved on, more certain and more execrable than even the general maſſacre of September 1792.