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.