If the people are to be taken from their labour for ſuch a number of days, it might as well be in the name of St. Genevieve or St. Denis, aſ of the Decade, and the Saintſ'-days have at leaſt this advantage, that the forenoons are paſſed in churches; whereas the republican feſtivals, dedicated one to love, another to ſtoiciſm, and ſo forth, not conveying any very determinate idea, are interpreted to mean only an obligation to do nothing, or to paſs ſome ſupernumerary hours at the cabaret. [Alehouſe.]
I noticed with extreme pleaſure yeſterday, that as many of the places of public worſhip as are permitted to be open were much crouded, and that religion appears to have ſurvived the loſs of thoſe exterior allurementſ which might be ſuppoſed to have rendered it peculiarly attractive to the Pariſians. The churches at preſent, far from being ſplendid, are not even decent, the walls and windows ſtill bear traces of the Goths (or, if you will, the philoſophers,) and in ſome places ſervice is celebrated amidſt piles of farage, ſacks, caſks, or lumber appertaining to the government—who, though they have by their own confeſſion the diſpoſal of half the metropolis, chooſe the churches in preference for ſuch purpoſes.*
* It has frequently been aſſerted in the Convention, that by emigrations, baniſhments, and executions, half Paris had become the property of the public.
—Yet theſe unſeemly and deſolate appearances do not prevent the attendance of congregations more numerous, and, I think, more fervent, than were uſual when the altars ſhone with the offerings of wealth, and the walls were covered with the more intereſting decorations of pictureſ and tapeſtry.
This it is not difficult to account for. Many who uſed to perform theſe religious duties with negligence, or indifference, are now become pious, and even enthuſiaſtic—and this not from hypocriſy or political contradiction, but from a real ſenſe of the evils of irreligion, produced by the examples and conduct of thoſe in whom ſuch a tendency has been moſt remarkable.—It muſt, indeed, be acknowledged, that did Chriſtianity require an advocate, a more powerful one need not be found, than in a retroſpect of the crimes and ſufferings of the French ſince itſ abolition.
Thoſe who have made fortunes by the revolution (for very few have been able to preſerve them) now begin to exhibit equipages; and they hope to render the people blind to this departure from their viſionary ſyſtems of equality, by foregoing the uſe of arms and liverieſ—as if the real difference between the rich and the poor was not conſtituted rather by eſſential accommodation, than extrinſic embelliſhments, which perhaps do not gratify the eyes of the poſſeſſor a ſecond time, and are, probably of all branches of luxury, the moſt uſeful. The livery of ſervants can be of very little importance, whether morally or politically conſidered—it is the act of maintaining men in idleneſs, who might be more profitably employed, that makes the keeping a great number exceptionable; nor is a man more degraded by going behind a carriage with a hat and feather, than with a bonnet de police, or a plain beaver; but he eats juſt as much, and earns juſt as little, equipped as a Carmagnole, as though glittering in the moſt ſuperb gala ſuit.*
* In their zeal to imitate the Roman republicans, the French ſeem to forget that a political conſideration very different from the love of ſimplicity, or an idea of the dignity of man, made the Romanſ averſe from diſtinguiſhing their ſlaves by any external indication. They were ſo numerous that it was thought impolitic to furniſh them with ſuch means of knowing their own ſtrength in caſe of a revolt.
The marks of ſervice cannot be more degrading than ſervice itſelf; and it is the mere chicane of philoſophy to extend reform only to cuffs and collars, while we do not diſpenſe with the ſervices annexed to them. A valet who walks the ſtreet in his powdering jacket, diſdains a livery aſ much as the fierceſt republican, and with as much reaſon—for there is no more difference between domeſtic occupation performed in one coat or another, than there is between the party-coloured habit and the jacket.
If the luxury of carriages be an evil, it muſt be becauſe the horſeſ employed in them conſume the produce of land which might be more beneficially cultivated: but the gilding, fringe, ſalamanders, and lions, in all their heraldic poſitions, afford an eaſy livelihood to manufacturers and artiſans, who might not be capable of more laboriouſ occupations.
I believe it will generally be found, that moſt of the republican reformſ are of this deſcription—calculated only to impoſe on the people, and diſguiſing, by frivolous prohibitions, their real inutility. The affectation of ſimplicity in a nation already familiarized with luxury, only tends to divert the wealth of the rich to purpoſes which render it more deſtructive. Vanity and oſtentation, when they are excluded from one means of gratification, will always ſeek another; and thoſe who, having the means, cannot diſtinguiſh themſelves by oſtenſible ſplendour, will often do ſo by domeſtic profuſion.*