On ushering into the world a literary production, custom has
established that its parent should give some account of his
offspring. Indeed, this becomes the more necessary at the present
moment, as the short-lived peace, which gave birth to the following
sheets, had already ceased before they were entirely printed; and the
war in which England and France are now engaged, is of a nature
calculated not only to rouse all the energy and ancient spirit of my
countrymen, but also to revive their prejudices, and inflame their
passions, in a degree proportionate to the enemy's boastful and
provoking menace.
I therefore premise that those who may be tempted to take up this
publication, merely with a view of seeking aliment for their enmity,
will, in more respects than one, probably find themselves
disappointed. The two nations were not rivals in arms, but in the
arts and sciences, at the time these letters were written, and
committed to the press; consequently, they have no relation whatever
to the present contest. Nevertheless, as they refer to subjects which
manifest the indefatigable activity of the French in the
accomplishment of any grand object, such parts may, perhaps, furnish
hints that may not be altogether unimportant at this momentous
crisis.
The plan most generally adhered to throughout this work, being
detailed in LETTER V, a repetition of it here would be superfluous;
and the principal matters to which the work itself relates, are
specified in the title. I now come to the point.
A long residence in France, and particularly in the capital, having
afforded me an opportunity of becoming tolerably well acquainted with
its state before the revolution, my curiosity was strongly excited to
ascertain the changes which that political phenomenon might have
effected. I accordingly availed myself of the earliest dawn of peace
to cross the water, and visit Paris. Since I had left that city in
1789-90, a powerful monarchy, established on a possession of fourteen
centuries, and on that sort of national prosperity which seemed to
challenge the approbation of future ages, had been destroyed by the
force of opinion which, like, a subterraneous fire, consumed its very
foundations, and plunged the nation into a sea of troubles, in which
it was, for several years, tossed about, amid the wreck of its
greatness.
This is a phenomenon of which antiquity affords no parallel; and it
has produced a rapid succession of events so extraordinary as almost
to exceed belief.
It is not the crimes to which it has given birth that will be thought
improbable: the history of revolutions, as well ancient as modern,
furnishes but too many examples of them; and few have been committed,
the traces of which are not to be found in the countries where the
imagination of the multitude has been exalted by strong and new
ideas, respecting Liberty and Equality. But what posterity will find
difficult to believe, is the agitation of men's minds, and the
effervescence of the passions, carried to such a pitch, as to stamp
the French revolution with a character bordering on the marvellous
--Yes; posterity will have reason to be astonished at the facility
with which the human mind can be modified and made to pass from one
extreme to another; at the suddenness, in short, with which the ideas
and manners of the French were changed; so powerful, on the one hand,
is the ascendency of certain imaginations; and, on the other, so
great is the weakness of the vulgar!
It is in the recollection of most persons, that the agitation of the
public mind in France was such, for a while, that, after having
overthrown the monarchy and its supports; rendered private property
insecure; and destroyed individual freedom; it threatened to invade
foreign countries, at the same time pushing before it Liberty, that
first blessing of man, when it is founded on laws, and the most
dangerous of chimeras, when it is without rule or restraint.
The greater part of the causes which excited this general commotion,
existed before the assembly of the States-General in 1789. It is
therefore important to take a mental view of the moral and political
situation of France at that period, and to follow, in imagination at
least, the chain of ideas, passions, and errors, which, having
dissolved the ties of society, and worn out the springs of
government, led the nation by gigantic strides into the most complete
anarchy.
Without enumerating the different authorities which successively
ruled in France after the fall of the throne, it appears no less
essential to remind the reader that, in this general disorganization,
the inhabitants themselves, though breathing the same air, scarcely
knew that they belonged to the same nation. The altars overthrown;
all the ancient institutions annihilated; new festivals and
ceremonies introduced; factious demagogues honoured with an
apotheosis; their busts exposed to public veneration; men and cities
changing names; a portion of the people infected with atheism, and
disguised in the livery of guilt and folly; all this, and more,
exercised the reflection of the well-disposed in a manner the most
painful. In a word, though France was peopled with the same
individuals, it seemed inhabited by a new nation, entirely different
from the old one in its government, its creed, its principles, its
manners, and even its customs.
War itself assumed a new face. Every thing relating to it became
extraordinary: the number of the combatants, the manner of recruiting
the armies, and the means of providing supplies for them; the
manufacture of powder, cannon, and muskets; the ardour, impetuosity,
and forced marches of the troops; their extortions, their successes,
and their reverses; the choice of the generals, and the superior
talents of some of them, together with the springs, by which these
enormous bodies of armed men were moved and directed, were equally
new and astonishing.
History tells us that in poor countries, where nothing inflames
cupidity and ambition, the love alone of the public good causes
changes to be tried in the government; and that those changes derange
not the ordinary course of society; whereas, among rich nations,
corrupted by luxury, revolutions are always effected through secret
motives of jealousy and interest; because there are great places to
be usurped, and great fortunes to be invaded. In France, the
revolution covered the country with ruins, tears, and blood, because
means were not to be found to moderate in the people that
_revolutionary spirit_ which parches, in the bud, the promised fruits
of liberty, when its violence is not repressed.
Few persons were capable of keeping pace with the rapid progress of
the revolution. Those who remained behind were considered as guilty
of desertion. The authors of the first constitution were accused of
being _royalists_; the old partisans of republicanism were punished
as _moderates_; the land-owners, as _aristocrates_; the monied men,
as _corrupters_; the bankers and financiers, as _blood-suckers_; the
shop-keepers, as _promoters of famine_; and the newsmongers, as
_alarmists_. The factious themselves, in short, were alternately
proscribed, as soon as they ceased to belong to the ruling faction.
In this state of things, society became a prey to the most baneful
passions. Mistrust entered every heart; friendship had no attraction;
relationship, no tie; and men's minds, hardened by the habit of
misfortune, or overwhelmed by fear, no longer opened to pity.
Terror compressed every imagination; and the revolutionary
government, exercising it to its fullest extent, struck off a
prodigious number of heads, filled the prisons with victims, and
continued to corrupt the morals of the nation by staining it with
crimes.
But all things have an end. The tyrants fell; the dungeons were
thrown open; numberless victims emerged from them; and France seemed
to recover new life; but still bewildered by the _revolutionary
spirit_, wasted by the concealed poison of anarchy, exhausted by her
innumerable sacrifices, and almost paralyzed by her own convulsions,
she made but impotent efforts for the enjoyment of liberty and
justice. Taxes became more burdensome; commerce was annihilated;
industry, without aliment; paper-money, without value; and specie,
without circulation. However, while the French nation was degraded at
home by this series of evils, it was respected abroad through the
rare merit of some of its generals, the splendour of its victories,
and the bravery of its soldiers.
During these transactions, there was formed in the public mind that
moral resistance which destroys not governments by violence, but
undermines them. The intestine commotions were increasing; the
conquests of the French were invaded; their enemies were already on
their frontiers; and the division which had broken out between the
Directory and the Legislative Body, again threatened France with a
total dissolution, when a man of extraordinary character and talents
had the boldness to seize the reins of authority, and stop the
further progress of the revolution.[1] Taking at the full the tide
which leads on to fortune, he at once changed the face of affairs,
not only within the limits of the Republic, but throughout Europe.
Yet, after all their triumphs, the French have the mortification to
have failed in gaining that for which they first took up arms, and
for which they have maintained so long and so obstinate a struggle.
When a strong mound has been broken down, the waters whose amassed
volume it opposed, rush forward, and, in their impetuous course,
spread afar terror and devastation. On visiting the scene where this
has occurred, we naturally cast our eyes in every direction, to
discover the mischief which they have occasioned by their irruption;
so, then, on reaching the grand theatre of the French revolution, did
I look about for the traces of the havock it had left behind; but,
like a river which had regained its level, and flowed again in its
natural bed, this political torrent had subsided, and its ravages
were repaired in a manner the most surprising.
However, at the particular request of an estimable friend, I have
endeavoured to draw the contrast which, in 1789-90 and 1801-2, Paris
presented to the eye of an impartial observer. In this arduous
attempt I have not the vanity to flatter myself that I have been
successful, though I have not hesitated to lay under contribution
every authority likely to promote my object. The state of the French
capital, before the revolution, I have delineated from the notes I
had myself collected on the spot, and for which purpose I was, at
that time, under the necessity of consulting almost as many books as
Don Quixote read on knight-errantry; but the authors from whom I have
chiefly borrowed, are St. FOIX, MERCIER, DULAURE, PUJOULX, and BIOT.
My invariable aim has been to relate, _sine ira nec studio_, such
facts and circumstances as have come to my knowledge, and to render
to every one that justice which I should claim for myself. After a
revolution which has trenched on so many opposite interests, the
reader cannot be surprised, if information, derived from such a
variety of sources, should sometimes seem to bear the character of
party-spirit. Should this appear _on the face of the record_, I can
only say that I have avoided entering into politics, in order that no
bias of that sort might lead me to discolour or distort the truths I
have had occasion to state; and I have totally rejected those
communications which, from their tone of bitterness, personality, and
virulence, might be incompatible with the general tenour of an
impartial production.
Till the joint approbation of some competent judges, who visited the
French capital after having perused, in manuscript, several of these
letters, had stamped on them a comparative degree of value, no one
could think more lightly of them than the author. Urged repeatedly to
produce them to the public, I have yielded with reluctance, and in
the fullest confidence that, notwithstanding the recent change of
circumstances, a liberal construction will be put on my sentiments
and motives. I have taken care that my account of the national
establishments in France should be perfectly correct; and, in fact, I
have been favoured with the principal information it contains by
their respective directors. In regard to the other topics on which I
have touched, I have not failed to consult the best authorities, even
in matters, which, however trifling in themselves, acquire a relative
importance, from being illustrative of some of the many-coloured
effects of a revolution, which has humbled the pride of many,
deranged the calculations of all, disappointed the hopes of not a
few, and deceived those even by whom it had been engendered and
conducted.
Yet, whatever pains I have taken to be strictly impartial, it cannot
be denied that, in publishing a work of this description at a time
when the self-love of most men is mortified, and their resentment
awakened, I run no small risk of displeasing all parties, because I
attach myself to none, but find them all more or less deserving of
censure. Without descending either to flattery or calumny, I speak
both well and ill of the French, because I copy nature, and neither
draw an imaginary portrait, nor write a systematic narrative. If I
have occasionally given vent to my indignation in glancing at the
excesses of the revolution, I have not withheld my tribute of
applause from those institutions, which, being calculated to benefit
mankind by the gratuitous diffusion of knowledge, would reflect
honour on any nation. In other respects, I have not been unmindful of
that excellent precept of TACITUS, in which he observes that "The
principal duty of the historian is to rescue from oblivion virtuous
actions, and to make bad men dread infamy and posterity for what they
have said and done."[2]
In stating facts, it is frequently necessary to support them by a
relation of particular circumstances, which may corroborate them in
an unquestionable manner. Feeling this truth, I have some times
introduced myself on my canvass, merely to shew that I am not an
ideal traveller. I mean one of those pleasant fellows who travel post
in their elbow-chair, sail round the world on a map suspended to one
side of their room, cross the seas with a pocket-compass lying on
their table, experience a shipwreck by their fireside, make their
escape when it scorches their shins, and land on a desert island in
their _robe de chambre_ and slippers.
I have, therefore, here and there mentioned names, time, and place,
to prove that, _bonâ fide_, I went to Paris immediately after the
ratification of the preliminary treaty. To banish uniformity in my
description of that metropolis, I have, as much as possible, varied
my subjects. Fashions, sciences, absurdities, anecdotes, education,
fêtes, useful arts, places of amusement, music, learned and
scientific institutions, inventions, public buildings, industry,
agriculture, &c. &c. &c. being all jumbled together in my brain, I
have thence drawn them, like tickets from a lottery; and it will not,
I trust, be deemed presumptuous in me to indulge a hope that, in
proportion to the blanks, there will be found no inadequate number of
prizes.
I have pointed out the immense advantages which France is likely to
derive from her Schools for Public Services, and other establishments
of striking utility, such as the _Dépôt de la Guerre_ and the _Dépôt
de la Marine_, in order that the British government may be prompted
to form institutions, which, if not exactly similar, may at least
answer the same purpose. Instead of copying the French in objects of
fickleness and frivolity, why not borrow from them what is really
deserving of imitation?
It remains for me to observe, by way of stimulating the ambition of
British genius, that, in France, the arts and sciences are now making
a rapid and simultaneous progress; first, because the revolution has
made them popular in that country; and, secondly, because they are
daily connected by new ties, which, in a great measure, render them
inseparable. Facts are there recurred to, less with a view to draw
from them immediate applications than to develop the truths resulting
from them. The first step is from these facts to their most simple
consequences, which are little more than bare assertions. From these
the _savans_ proceed to others more minute, till, at length, by
imperceptible degrees, they arrive at the most abstracted
generalities. With them, method is an induction incessantly verified
by experiment. Whence, it gives to human intelligence, not wings
which lead it astray, but reins which guide it. United by this common
philosophy, the sciences and arts in France advance together; and the
progress made by one of them serves to promote that of the rest.
There, the men who profess them, considering that their knowledge
belongs not to themselves alone, not to their country only, but to
all mankind, are continually striving to increase the mass of public
knowledge. This they regard as a real duty, which they are proud to
discharge; thus treading in the steps of the most memorable men of
past ages.
Then, while the more unlearned and unskilled among us are emulating
the patriotic enthusiasm of the French in volunteering, as they did,
to resist invasion, let our men of science and genius exert
themselves not to be surpassed by the industrious _savans_ and
artists of that nation; but let them act on the principle inculcated
by the following sublime idea of our illustrious countryman, the
founder of modern philosophy. "It may not be amiss," says BACON, "to
point out three different kinds, and, as it were, degrees of
ambition. The first, that of those who desire to enhance, in their
own country, the power they arrogate to themselves: this kind of
ambition is both vulgar and degenerate. The second, that of those who
endeavour to extend the power and domination of their country, over
the whole of the human race: in this kind there is certainly a
greater dignity, though; at the same time, no less a share of
cupidity. But should any one strive to restore and extend the power
and domination of mankind over the universality of things,
unquestionably such an ambition, (if it can be so denominated) would
be more reasonable and dignified than the others. Now, the empire of
man, over things, has its foundation exclusively in the arts and
sciences; for it is only by an obedience to her laws, that Nature can
be commanded."[3]
LONDON, June 10, 1803.
[Footnote 1: Of two things, we are left to believe one. BONAPARTE
either was or was not invited to put himself at the head of the
government of France. It is not probable that the Directory should
send for him from Egypt, in order to say to him: "we are fools and
drivelers, unfit to conduct the affairs of the nation; so turn us out
of office, and seat yourself in our place." Nevertheless, they might
have hoped to preserve their tottering authority through his support.
Be this as it may, there it something so singular in the good fortune
which has attended BONAPARTE from the period of his quitting
Alexandria, that, were it not known for truth, it might well be taken
for fiction. Sailing from the road of Aboukir on the 24th of August,
1799, he eludes the vigilance of the English cruisers, and lands at
Frejus in France on the 14th of October following, the forty-seventh
day after his departure from Egypt. On his arrival in Paris, so far
from giving an account of his conduct to the Directory, he turns his
back on them; accepts the proposition made to him, from another
quarter, to effect a change in the government; on the 9th of
November, carries it into execution; and, profiting by the _popularis
aura_, fixes himself at the head of the State, at the same time
kicking down the ladder by which he climbed to power. To achieve all
this with such promptitude and energy, most assuredly required a mind
of no common texture; nor can any one deny that ambition would have
done but little towards its accomplishment, had it not been seconded
by extraordinary firmness.]
[Footnote 2: _"Præcipuum munus annalium reor, ne virtutes sileantur,
utque praxis dictis factisque ex posteritate et infamiâ metus sit."_]
[Footnote 3: "_Præterca non abs refuerit, tria hominum ambitionis
genera et quasi gradus distinguere. Primum eorum qui propriam
potentiam in patria sua amplificare cupiunt; quod genus vulgare est
et degener. Secundum eorum, qui patriæ potentiam et imperium inter
humanum genus amplificare nituntur; illud plus certe habet
dignitatis, cupiditatis haud minus. Quod si quis humani generis
ipsius potentiam et imperium in rerum univertitatem instaurare et
amplificare conetur ea procul dubio ambitio (si modo ita cocanda sit)
reliquls et sanior est et augustior. Hominis autem imperium in res,
in solis artibus et scientiis ponitur: naturæ enim non imperatur,
nisi parendo_." Nov. org. scientiarum. Aphor. CXXIX. (Vol. VIII. page
72, new edition of BACON'S works. London, printed 1803.)]
A SKETCH OF PARIS, &c. &c.