But if they be deficient in the external forms of politeneſs, they are infinitely more ſo in that politeneſs which may be called mental. The ſimple and unerring rule of never preferring one's ſelf, is to them more difficult of comprehenſion than the moſt difficult problem in Euclid: in ſmall things as well as great, their own intereſt, their own gratification, is their leading principle; and the cold flexibility which enables them to clothe this ſelfiſh ſyſtem in "fair forms," is what they call politeneſs.
My ideas on this ſubject are not recent, but they occurred to me with additional force on the peruſal of Mad. de B____'s letter. The behaviour of ſome of the pooreſt and leaſt informed claſs of our countrymen forms a ſtriking contraſt with that of the people who arreſted her, and even her own friends: the unaffected attention of the one, and the brutality and neglect of the other, are, perhaps, more juſt examples of Engliſh and French manners than you may have hitherto imagined. I do not, however, pretend to ſay that the latter are all groſs and brutal, but I am myſelf convinced that, generally ſpeaking, they are an unfeeling people.
I beg you to remember, that when I ſpeak of the diſpoſitions and character of the French, my opinions are the reſult of general obſervation, and are applicable to all ranks; but when my remarks are on habits and manners, they deſcribe only thoſe claſſes which are properly called the nation. The higher nobleſſe, and thoſe attached to courts, ſo nearly reſemble each other in all countries, that they are neceſſarily excepted in theſe delineations, which are intended to mark the diſtinguiſhing features of a people at large: for, aſſuredly, when the French aſſert, and their neighbours repeat, that they are a polite nation, it is not meant that thoſe who have important offices or dignified appellations are polite: they found their claims on their ſuperiority as a people, and it is in this light I conſider them. My examples are chiefly drawn, not from the very inferior, nor from the moſt eminent ranks; neither from the retailer of a ſhop, nor the claimant of a tabouret,* or les grandes ou petites entrees; but from the gentry, thoſe of eaſy fortunes, merchants, &c.—in fact, from people of that degree which it would be fair to cite as what may be called genteel ſociety in England.
* The tabouret was a ſtool allowed to the Ladies of the Court particularly diſtinguiſhed by rank or favour, when in preſence of the Royal Family.—"Les entreeſ" gave a familiar acceſs to the King and Queen.
This ceſſation of intercourſe with our country diſpirits me, and, as it will probably continue ſome time, I ſhall amuſe myſelf by noting more particularly the little occurrences which may not reach your public prints, but which tend more than great events to mark both the ſpirit of the government and that of the people.—Perhaps you may be ignorant that the prohibition of the Engliſh mails was not the conſequence of a decree of the Convention, but a ſimple order of its commiſſioners; and I have ſome reaſon to think that even they acted at the inſtigation of an individual who harbours a mean and pitiful diſlike to England and itſ inhabitants.—Yours, &c.
May 18, 1793.
Near ſix weeks ago a decree was paſſed by the Convention, obliging all ſtrangers, who had not purchaſed national property, or who did not exerciſe ſome profeſſion, to give ſecurity to the amount of half their ſuppoſed fortune, and under theſe conditions they were to receive a certificate, allowing them to reſide, and were promiſed the protection of the laws. The adminiſtrators of the departments, who perceive that they become odious by executing the decrees of the Convention, begin to relax much of their diligence, and it is not till long after a law iſ promulgated, and their perſonal fear operates as a ſtimulant, that they ſeriouſly enforce obedience to theſe mandates. This morning, however, we were ſummoned by the Committee of our ſection (or ward) in order to comply with the terms of the decree, and had I been directed only by my own judgement, I ſhould have given the preference to an immediate return to England; but Mrs. D____ is yet ill, and Mr. D____ is diſpoſed to continue. In vain have I quoted "how fickle France was branded 'midſt the nations of the earth for perfidy and breach of public faith;" in vain have I reaſoned upon the injuſtice of a government that firſt allured ſtrangers to remain by inſidious offers of protection, and now ſubjectſ them to conditions which many may find it difficult to ſubſcribe to: Mr. D____ wiſhes to ſee our ſituation in the moſt favourable point of view: he argues upon the moral impoſſibility of our being liable to any inconvenience, and perſiſts in believing that one government may act with treachery towards another, yet, diſtinguiſhing between falſehood and meanneſs, maintain its faith with individualſ—in ſhort, we have concluded a ſort of treaty, by which we are bound, under the forfeiture of a large ſum, to behave peaceably and ſubmit to the laws. The government, in return, empowers us to reſide, and promiſes protection and hoſpitality.
It is to be obſerved, that the ſpirit of this regulation depends upon thoſe it affects producing ſix witneſſes of their "civiſme;"* yet ſo little intereſt do the people take on theſe occaſions, that our witneſſeſ were neighbours we had ſcarcely ever ſeen, and even one was a man who happened to be caſually paſſing by.
* Though the meaning of this word is obvious, we have no one that iſ exactly ſynonymous to it. The Convention intend by it an attachment to their government: but the people do not trouble themſelves about the meaning of wordſ—they meaſure their unwilling obedience by the letter.