A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795 Part 2

M. de C____ referred him to the pa.s.sport, and suspecting the man could not read, persisted in refusing to give a verbal account of himself, but with much civility pressed the perusal of the pa.s.sport; adding, that if it was informal, Monsieur might write to the munic.i.p.ality that granted it. The man, however, did not approve of the jest, and took the Marquis before the munic.i.p.ality, who sentenced him to a month's imprisonment for his pleasantry.

The French are becoming very grave, and a bon-mot will not now, as formerly, save a man's life.--I do not remember to have seen in any English print an anecdote on this subject, which at once marks the levity of the Parisians, and the wit and presence of mind of the Abbe Maury.--At the beginning of the revolution, when the people were very much incensed against the Abbe, he was one day, on quitting the a.s.sembly, surrounded by an enraged mob, who seized on him, and were hurrying him away to execution, amidst the universal cry of _a la lanterne! a la lanterne!_ The Abbe, with much coolness and good humour, turned to those nearest him, _"Eh bien mes amis et quand je serois a la lanterne, en verriez vous plus clair?"_ Those who held him were disarmed, the bon-mot flew through the croud, and the Abbe escaped while they were applauding it.--I have nothing to offer after this trait which is worthy of succeeding it, but will add that I am always Yours.

July 24, 1792.

Our revolution aera has pa.s.sed tranquilly in the provinces, and with less turbulence at Paris than was expected. I consign to the Gazette-writers those long descriptions that describe nothing, and leave the mind as unsatisfied as the eye. I content myself with observing only, that the ceremony here was gay, impressive, and animating. I indeed have often remarked, that the works of nature are better described than those of art. The scenes of nature, though varied, are uniform; while the productions of art are subject to the caprices of whim, and the vicissitudes of taste. A rock, a wood, or a valley, however the scenery may be diversified, always conveys a perfect and distinct image to the mind; but a temple, an altar, a palace, or a pavilion, requires a detail, minute even to tediousness, and which, after all, gives but an imperfect notion of the object. I have as often read descriptions of the Vatican, as of the Bay of Naples; yet I recollect little of the former, while the latter seems almost familiar to me.--Many are strongly impressed with the scenery of Milton's Paradise, who have but confused ideas of the splendour of Pandemonium. The descriptions, however, are equally minute, and the poetry of both is beautiful.

But to return to this country, which is not absolutely a Paradise, and I hope will not become a Pandemonium--the ceremony I have been alluding to, though really interesting, is by no means to be considered as a proof that the ardour for liberty increases: on the contrary, in proportion as these fetes become more frequent, the enthusiasm which they excite seems to diminish. "For ever mark, Lucilius, when Love begins to sicken and decline, it useth an enforced ceremony." When there were no foederations, the people were more united. The planting trees of liberty seems to have damped the spirit of freedom; and since there has been a decree for wearing the national colours, they are more the marks of obedience than proofs of affection.--I cannot pretend to decide whether the leaders of the people find their followers less warm than they were, and think it necessary to stimulate them by these shows, or whether the shows themselves, by too frequent repet.i.tion, have rendered the people indifferent about the objects of them.--Perhaps both these suppositions are true. The French are volatile and material; they are not very capable of attachment to principles. External objects are requisite for them, even in a slight degree; and the momentary enthusiasm that is obtained by affecting their senses subsides with the conclusion of a favourite air, or the end of a gaudy procession.

The Jacobin party are daily gaining ground; and since they have forced a ministry of their own on the King, their triumph has become still more insolent and decisive.--A storm is said to be hovering over us, which I think of with dread, and cannot communicate with safety--"Heaven square the trial of those who are implicated, to their proportioned strength!"-- Adieu.

August 4, 1792.

I must repeat to you, that I have no talent for description; and, having seldom been able to profit by the descriptions of others, I am modest enough not willingly to attempt one myself. But, as you observe, the ceremony of a foederation, though familiar to me, is not so to my English friends; I therefore obey your commands, though certain of not succeeding so as to gratify your curiosity in the manner you too partially expect.

The temple where the ceremony was performed, was erected in an open s.p.a.ce, well chosen both for convenience and effect. In a large circle on this spot, twelve posts, between fifty and sixty feet high, were placed at equal distances, except one larger, opening in front by way of entrance. On each alternate post were fastened ivy, laurel, &c. so as to form a thick body which entirely hid the support. These greens were then shorn (in the manner you see in old fas.h.i.+oned gardens) into the form of Doric columns, of dimensions proportioned to their height. The intervening posts were covered with white cloth, which was so artificially folded, as exactly to resemble fluted pillars--from the bases of which ascended spiral wreaths of flowers. The whole was connected at top by a bold festoon of foliage, and the capital of each column was surmounted by a vase of white lilies. In the middle of this temple was placed an altar, hung round with lilies, and on it was deposed the book of the const.i.tution. The approach to the altar was by a large flight of steps, covered with beautiful tapestry.

All this having been arranged and decorated, (a work of several days,) the important aera was ushered in by the firing of cannon, ringing of bells, and an appearance of bustle and hilarity not to be seen on any other occasion. About ten, the members of the district, the munic.i.p.ality, and the judges in their habits of ceremony, met at the great church, and from thence proceeded to the altar of liberty. The troops of the line, the Garde Nationale of the town, and of all the surrounding communes, then arrived, with each their respective music and colours, which (reserving one only of the latter to distinguish them in the ranks) they planted round the altar. This done, they retired, and forming a circle round the temple, left a large intermediate s.p.a.ce free.

A ma.s.s was then celebrated with the most perfect order and decency, and at the conclusion were read the rights of man and the const.i.tution. The troops, Garde Nationale, &c. were then addressed by their respective officers, the oath to be faithful to the nation, the law, and the King, was administered: every sword was drawn, and every hat waved in the air; while all the bands of music joined in the favorite strain of ca ira.-- This was followed by crowning, with the civic wreaths hung round the altar, a number of people, who during the year had been instrumental in saving the lives of their fellow-citizens that had been endangered by drowning or other accidents. This honorary reward was accompanied by a pecuniary one, and a fraternal embrace from all the const.i.tuted bodies.

But this was not the gravest part of the ceremony. The magistrates, however upright, were not all graceful, and the people, though they understood the value of the money, did not that of the civic wreaths, or the embraces; they therefore looked vacant enough during this part of the business, and grinned most facetiously when they began to examine the appearance of each other in their oaken crowns, and, I dare say, thought the whole comical enough.--This is one trait of national pedantry.

Because the Romans awarded a civic wreath for an act of humanity, the French have adopted the custom; and decorate thus a soldier or a sailor, who never heard of the Romans in his life, except in extracts from the New Testament at ma.s.s.

But to return to our fete, of which I have only to add, that the magistrates departed in the order they observed in coming, and the troops and Garde Nationale filed off with their hats in the air, and with universal acclamations, to the sound of ca ira.--Things of this kind are not susceptible of description. The detail may be uninteresting, while the general effect may have been impressive. The spirit of the scene I have been endeavouring to recall seems to have evaporated under my pen; yet to the spectator it was gay, elegant, and imposing. The day was fine, a brilliant sun glittered on the banners, and a gentle breeze gave them motion; while the satisfied countenances of the people added spirit and animation to the whole.

I must remark to you, that devots, and determined aristocrates, ever attend on these occasions. The piety of the one is shocked at a ma.s.s by a priest who has taken the oaths, and the pride of the other is not yet reconciled to confusion of ranks and popular festivities. I asked a woman who brings us fruit every day, why she had not come on the fourteenth as usual. She told me she did not come to the town, _"a cause de la foederation"--"Vous etes aristocrate donc?"--"Ah, mon Dieu non--ce n'est pas que je suis aristocrate, ou democrate, mais que je suis Chretienne._*"

*"On account of the foederation."--"You are an aristocrate then, I suppose?"--"Lord, no! It is not because I am an aristocrate, or a democrate, but because I am a Christian."

This is an instance, among many others I could produce, that our legislators have been wrong, in connecting any change of the national religion with the revolution. I am every day convinced, that this and the a.s.signats are the great causes of the alienation visible in many who were once the warmest patriots.--Adieu: do not envy us our fetes and ceremonies, while you enjoy a const.i.tution which requires no oath to make you cherish it: and a national liberty, which is felt and valued without the aid of extrinsic decoration.--Yours.

August 15.

The consternation and horror of which I have been partaker, will more than apologize for my silence. It is impossible for any one, however unconnected with the country, not to feel an interest in its present calamities, and to regret them. I have little courage to write even now, and you must pardon me if my letter should bear marks of the general depression. All but the faction are grieved and indignant at the King's deposition; but this grief is without energy, and this indignation silent. The partizans of the old government, and the friends of the new, are equally enraged; but they have no union, are suspicious of each other, and are sinking under the stupor of despair, when they should be preparing for revenge.--It would not be easy to describe our situation during the last week. The ineffectual efforts of La Fayette, and the violences occasioned by them, had prepared us for something still more serious. On the ninth, we had a letter from one of the representatives for this department, strongly expressive of his apprehensions for the morrow, but promising to write if he survived it. The day, on which we expected news, came, but no post, no papers, no diligence, nor any means of information. The succeeding night we sat up, expecting letters by the post: still, however, none arrived; and the courier only pa.s.sed hastily through, giving no detail, but that Paris was _a feu et a sang_.*

* All fire and slaughter.

At length, after pa.s.sing two days and nights in this dreadful suspence, we received certain intelligence which even exceeded our fears.--It is needless to repeat the horrors that have been perpetrated. The accounts must, ere now, have reached you. Our representative, as he seemed to expect, was so ill treated as to be unable to write: he was one of those who had voted the approval of La Fayette's conduct--all of whom were either ma.s.sacred, wounded, or intimidated; and, by this means, a majority was procured to vote the deposition of the King. The party allow, by their own accounts, eight thousand persons to have perished on this occasion; but the number is supposed to be much more considerable. No papers are published at present except those whose editors, being members of the a.s.sembly, and either agents or instigators of the ma.s.sacres, are, of course, interested in concealing or palliating them.---Mr. De _____ has just now taken up one of these atrocious journals, and exclaims, with tears starting from his eyes, _"On a abattu la statue d'Henri quatre!*"_

*"They have destroyed the statue of Henry the Fourth."

The sacking of Rome by the Goths offers no picture equal to the licentiousness and barbarity committed in a country which calls itself the most enlightened in Europe.--But, instead of recording these horrors, I will fill up my paper with the Choeur Bearnais.

_Choeur Bearnais.

"Un troubadour Bearnais, "Le yeux inoudes de larmes, "A ses montagnards "Chantoit ce refrein source d'alarmes-- "Louis le fils d'Henri "Est prisonnier dans Paris!

"Il a tremble pour les jours "De sa compagne cherie "Qui n'a troube de secours "Que dans sa propre energie; "Elle suit le fils d'Henri "Dans les prisons de Paris.

"Quel crime ont ils donc commis "Pour etre enchaines de meme?

"Du peuple ils sont les amis, "Le peuple veut il qu'on l'aime, "Quand il met le fils d'Henri "Dans les prisons de Paris?

"Le Dauphin, ce fils cheri, "Qui seul fait notre esperance, "De pleurs sera donc nourri; "Les Berceaux qu'on donne en France "Aux enfans de notre Henri "Sont les prisons de Paris.

"Il a vu couler le sang "De ce garde fidele, "Qui vient d'offrir en mourant "Aux Francais un beau modele; Mais Louis le fils d'Henri "Est prisonnier dans Paris.

"Il n'est si triste appareil "Qui du respect nous degage, "Les feux ardens du Soleil "Savent percer le nuage: "Le prisonnier de Paris "Est toujours le fils d'Henri.

"Francais, trop ingrats Francais "Rendez le Roi a sa compagne; "C'est le bien du Bearnais, "C'est l'enfant de la Montagne: "Le bonheur qu' avoit Henri "Nous l'affarons a Louis.

"Chez vouz l'homme a de ses droits "Recouvre le n.o.ble usage, "Et vous opprimez vos rois, "Ah! quel injuste partage!

"Le peuple est libre, et Louis "Est prisonnier dans Paris.

"Au pied de ce monument "Ou le bon Henri respire "Pourquoi l'airain foudroyant?

"Ah l'on veut qu' Henri conspire "Lui meme contre son fils "Dans les prisons de Paris."_

It was published some time ago in a periodical work, (written with great spirit and talents,) called "The Acts of the Apostles," and, I believe, has not yet appeared in England. The situation of the King gives a peculiar interest to these stanzas, which, merely as a poetical composition, are very beautiful. I have often attempted to translate them, but have always found it impossible to preserve the effect and simplicity of the original. They are set to a little plaintive air, very happily characteristic of the words.

Perhaps I shall not write to you again from hence, as we depart for A_____ on Tuesday next. A change of scene will dissipate a little the seriousness we have contracted during the late events. If I were determined to indulge grief or melancholy, I would never remove from the spot where I had formed the resolution. Man is a proud animal even when oppressed by misfortune. He seeks for his tranquility in reason and reflection; whereas, a post-chaise and four, or even a hard-trotting horse, is worth all the philosophy in the world.--But, if, as I observed before, a man be determined to resist consolation, he cannot do better than stay at home, and reason and phosophize.

Adieu:--the situation of my friends in this country makes me think of England with pleasure and respect; and I shall conclude with a very homely couplet, which, after all the fas.h.i.+onable liberality of modern travellers, contains a great deal of truth:

"Amongst mankind "We ne'er shall find "The worth we left at home."

Yours, &c.

August 22, 1792.

The hour is past, in which, if the King's friends had exerted themselves, they might have procured a movement in his favour. The people were at first amazed, then grieved; but the national philosophy already begins to operate, and they will sink into indifference, till again awakened by some new calamity. The leaders of the faction do not, however, entirely depend either on the supineness of their adversaries, or the submission of the people. Money is distributed amongst the idle and indigent, and agents are nightly employed in the public houses to comment on newspapers, written for the purpose to blacken the King and exalt the patriotism of the party who have dethroned him. Much use has likewise been made of the advances of the Prussians towards Champagne, and the usual mummery of ceremony has not been wanting. Robespierre, in a burst of extemporary energy, previously studied, has declared the country in danger. The declaration has been echoed by all the departments, and proclaimed to the people with much solemnity. We were not behind hand in the ceremonial of the business, though, somehow, the effect was not so serious and imposing as one could have wished on such an occasion. A smart flag, with the words "Citizens, the country is in danger," was prepared; the judges and the munic.i.p.ality were in their costume, the troops and Garde Nationale under arms, and an orator, surrounded by his cortege, harangued in the princ.i.p.al parts of the town on the text of the banner which waved before him.

All this was very well; but, unfortunately, in order to distinguish the orator amidst the croud, it was determined he should harangue on horseback. Now here arose a difficulty which all the ardour of patriotism was not able to surmount. The French are in general but indifferent equestrians; and it so happened that, in our munic.i.p.ality, those who could speak could not ride, and those who could ride could not speak. At length, however, after much debating, it was determined that arms should yield to the gown, or rather, the horse to the orator--with this precaution, that the monture should be properly secured, by an attendant to hold the bridle. Under this safeguard, the rhetorician issued forth, and the first part of the speech was performed without accident; but when, by way of relieving the declaimer, the whole military band began to flourish ca ira, the horse, even more patriotic than his rider, curvetted and twisted with so much animation, that however the spectators might be delighted, the orator was far from partic.i.p.ating in their satisfaction. After all this, the speech was to be finished, and the silence of the music did not immediately tranquillize the animal.

The orator's eye wandered from the paper that contained his speech, with wistful glances toward the mane; the fervor of his indignation against the Austrians was frequently calmed by the involuntary strikings he was obliged to submit to; and at the very crisis of the emphatic declaration, he seemed much less occupied by his country's danger than his own. The people, who were highly amused, I dare say, conceived the whole ceremony to be a rejoicing, and at every repet.i.tion that the country was in danger, joined with great glee in the chorus of _ca ira_.*

*The oration consisted of several parts, each ending with a kind of burden of _"Citoyens, la patri est en danger;"_ and the arrangers of the ceremony had not selected appropriate music: so that the band, who had been accustomed to play nothing else on public occasions, struck up _ca ira_ at every declaration that the country was in danger!

Many of the spectators, I believe, had for some time been convinced of the danger that threatened the country, and did not suppose it much increased by the events of the war; others were pleased with a show, without troubling themselves about the occasion of it; and the ma.s.s, except when rouzed to attention by their favourite air, or the exhibitions of the equestrian orator, looked on with vacant stupidity.

--This tremendous flag is now suspended from a window of the Hotel de Ville, where it is to remain until the inscription it wears shall no longer be true; and I heartily wish, the distresses of the country may not be more durable than the texture on which they are proclaimed.

Our journey is fixed for to-morrow, and all the morning has been pa.s.sed in attendance for our pa.s.sports.--This affair is not so quickly dispatched as you may imagine. The French are, indeed, said to be a very lively people, but we mistake their volubility for vivacity; for in their public offices, their shops, and in any transaction of business, no people on earth can be more tedious--they are slow, irregular, and loquacious; and a retail English Quaker, with all his formalities, would dispose of half his stock in less time than you can purchase a three sols stamp from a brisk French Commis. You may therefore conceive, that this official portraiture of so many females was a work of time, and not very pleasant to the originals. The delicacy of an Englishman may be shocked at the idea of examining and registering a lady's features one after another, like the articles of a bill of lading; but the cold and systematic gallantry of a Frenchman is not so scrupulous.--The officer, however, who is employed for this purpose here, is civil, and I suspected the infinity of my nose, and the acuteness of Mad. de ____'s chin, might have disconcerted him; but he extricated himself very decently. My nose is enrolled in the order of aquilines, and the old lady's chin pared off to a _"menton un peu pointu."_--[A longish chin.]