A grand-daughter of the celebrated De Witt, who reſided thirty leagueſ from hence, was arreſted in the night, put in an open cart, without any regard to her age, her ſex, or her infirmities, though the rain fell in torrents; and, after ſleeping on ſtraw in different priſons on the road, was depoſited here. As a Fleming, the law places her in the ſame predicament with a very pretty young woman who has lived ſome months at Amiens; but Dumont, who is at once the maker, the interpreter, and executor of the laws, has exempted the latter from the general proſcription, and appears daily with her in public; whereas poor Madame De Witt is excluded from ſuch indulgence, being above ſeventy years old— and is accuſed, moreover, of having been moſt exemplarily charitable, and, what is ſtill worſe, very religious.—I have given theſe inſtanceſ not as any way remarkable, and only that you may form ſome idea of the pretexts which have ſerved to cover France with priſons, and to conduct ſo many of its inhabitants to the ſcaffold.
It is impoſſible to reflect on a country in ſuch a ſituation, without abhorring the authors of it, and dreading the propagation of their doctrines. I hope they neither have imitators nor admirers in England; yet the convention in their debates, the Jacobins, and all the French newſpapers, ſeem ſo ſanguine in their expectation, and ſo poſitive in their aſſertions of an Engliſh revolution, that I occaſionally, and in ſpite of myſelf, feel a vague but ſerious ſolicitude, which I ſhould not have ſuppoſed the apprehenſion of any political evil could inſpre. I know the good ſenſe and information of my countrymen offer a powerful reſource againſt the love of change and metaphyſical ſubtilties; but, it is certain, the French government have much depended on the ſpirit of party, and the zeal of their propagandiſtes. They talk of a Britiſh convention, of a conventional army, and, in ſhort, all France ſeem prepared to ſee their neighbours involved in the ſame diſaſtrous ſyſtem with themſelves. The people are not a little ſupported in this error by the extracts that are given them from your orators in the Houſe of Commons, which teem with nothing but complaints againſt the oppreſſion of their own country, and enthuſiaſtic admiration of French liberty. We read and wonder—collate the Bill of Rights with the Code Revolutionnaire, and again fear what we cannot give credit to.
Since the reports I allude to have gained ground, I have been forcibly ſtricken by a difference in the character of the two nations. At the proſpect of a revolution, all the French who could conveniently leave the country, fled; and thoſe that remained (except adventurers and the banditti that were their accomplices) ſtudiouſly avoided taking any part. But ſo little are our countrymen affected with this ſelfiſh apathy, that I am told there is ſcarcely one here who, amidſt all his preſent ſufferings, does not ſeem to regret his abſence from England, more on account of not being able to oppoſe this threatened attack on our conſtitution, than for any perſonal motive.—The example before them muſt, doubtleſs, tend to increaſe this ſentiment of genuine patriotiſm; for whoever came to France with but a ſingle grain of it in hiſ compoſition, muſt return with more than enough to conſtitute an hundred patriots, whoſe hatred of deſpotiſm is only a principle, and who have never felt its effects.—Adieu.
February 2, 1794.
The factions which have choſen to give France the appellation of a republic, ſeem to have judged, and with ſome reaſon, that though it might anſwer their purpoſe to amuſe the people with ſpecious theories of freedom, their habits and ideas were far from requiring that theſe fine ſchemes ſhould be carried into practice. I know of no example equal to the ſubmiſſion of the French at this moment; and if "departed ſpiritſ were permitted to review the world," the ſhades of Richelieu or Louvoiſ might hover with envy round the Committee of Public Welfare, and regret the undaring moderation of their own politics.
How ſhall I explain to an Engliſhman the doctrine of univerſal requiſition? I rejoice that you can imagine nothing like it.—After eſtabliſhing, as a general principle, that the whole country is at the diſpoſal of government, ſucceeding decrees have made ſpecific claims on almoſt every body, and every thing. The tailors, ſhoemakers,* bakers, ſmiths, ſadlers, and many other trades, are all in requiſition—carts, horſes, and carriages of every kind, are in requiſition—the ſtables and cellars are put in requiſition for the extraction of ſaltpetre, and the houſes to lodge ſoldiers, or to be converted into priſons.
* In order to prevent frauds, the ſhoemakers were obliged to make only ſquare-toed ſhoes, and every perſon not in the army waſ forbidden to wear them of this form. Indeed, people of any pretentions to patriotiſm (that is to ſay, who were much afraid) did not venture to wear any thing but wooden ſhoes; as it had been declared anti-civique, if not ſuſpicious, to walk in leather.
—Sometimes ſhopkeepers are forbidden to ſell their cloth, nails, wine, bread, meat, &c. There are inſtances where whole towns have been kept without the neceſſaries of life for ſeveral days together, in conſequence of theſe interdictions; and I have known it proclaimed by beat of drum, that whoever poſſeſſed two uniforms, two hats, or two pair of ſhoes, ſhould relinquiſh one for the uſe of the army! Yet with all theſe efforts of deſpotiſm, the republican troops are in many reſpects ill ſupplied, the produce being too often converted to the uſe of the agentſ of government, who are all Jacobins, and whoſe peculations are ſuffered with impunity, becauſe they are too neceſſary, or perhaps too formidable for puniſhment.
Theſe proceedings, which are not the leſs miſchievous for being abſurd, muſt end in a total deſtruction of commerce: the merchant will not import what he may be obliged to ſell excluſively to government at an arbitrary and inadequate valuation.—Thoſe who are not impriſoned, and have it in their power, are for the moſt part retired from buſineſs, or at leaſt avoid all foreign ſpeculations; ſo that France may in a few months depend only on her internal reſources. The ſame meaſures which ruin one claſs, ſerve as a pretext to oppreſs and levy contributions on the reſt.—In order to make this right of ſeizure ſtill more productive, almoſt every village has its ſpies, and the domiciliary viſits are become ſo frequent, that a man is leſs ſecure in his own houſe, than in a deſert amidſt Arabs. On theſe occaſions, a band of Jacobins, with a municipal officer at their head, enter ſans ceremonie, over-run your apartments, and if they find a few pounds of ſugar, ſoap, or any other article which they chooſe to judge more than ſufficient for immediate conſumption, they take poſſeſſion of the whole as a monopoly, which they claim for the uſe of the republic, and the terrified owner, far from expoſtulating, thinkſ himſelf happy if he eſcapes ſo well.—But this is mere vulgar tyranny: a leſs powerful deſpotiſm might invade the ſecurity of ſocial life, and baniſh its comforts. We are prone to ſuffer, and it requires often little more than the will to do evil to give us a command over the happineſs of others. The Convention are more original, and, not ſatiſfied with having reduced the people to the moſt abject ſlavery, they exact a ſemblance of content, and dictate at ſtated periods the chaſtiſement which awaits thoſe who refuſe to ſmile.