existence than their political one--provisions are become enormously
dear, and bread very scarce: our servants often wait two hours at the
baker's, and then return without bread for breakfast. I hope, however,
the scarcity is rather artificial than real. It is generally supposed to
be occasioned by the unwillingness of the farmers to sell their corn for
paper. Some measures have been adopted with an intention of remedying
this evil, though the origin of it is beyond the reach of decree. It
originates in that distrust of government which reconciles one part of
the community to starving the other, under the idea of self-preservation.
While every individual persists in establishing it as a maxim, that any
thing is better than assignats, we must expect that all things will be
difficult to procure, and will, of course, bear a high price. I fear,
all the empyricism of the legislature cannot produce a nostrum for this
want of faith. Dragoons and penal laws only "linger, and linger it out;"
the disease is incurable.
My friends, Mons. and Mad. de B____, by way of consolation for their
imprisonment, now find themselves on the list of emigrants, though they
have never been a single day absent from their own province, or from
places of residence where they are well known. But that they may not
murmur at this injustice, the municipality have accompanied their names
with those of others who have not even been absent from the town, and of
one gentleman in particular, who I believe may have been seen on the
ramparts every day for these seven years.--This may appear to you only
very absurd, and you may imagine the consequences easily obviated; yet
these mistakes are the effect of private malice, and subject the persons
affected by them to an infinity of expence and trouble. They are
obliged, in order to avert the confiscation of their property, to appear,
in every part of the republic where they have possessions, with
attestations of their constant residence in France, and perhaps suffer a
thousand mortifications from the official ignorance and brutality of the
persons to whom they apply. No remedy lies against the authors of these
vexations, and the sufferer who is prudent fears even to complain.
I have, in a former letter, noticed the great number of beggars that
swarm at Arras: they are not less numerous at Amiens, though of a
different description--they are neither so disgusting, nor so wretched,
but are much more importunate and insolent--they plead neither sickness
nor infirmity, and are, for the most part, able and healthy. How so many
people should beg by profession in a large manufacturing town, it is
difficult to conceive; but, whatever may be the cause, I am tempted to
believe the effect has some influence on the manners of the inhabitants
of Amiens. I have seen no town in France so remarkable for a rude and
unfeeling behaviour, and it is not fanciful to conjecture that the
multitude of poor may tend in part to occasion it. The constant view of
a sort of misery that excites little compassion, of an intrusive
necessity which one is more desirous to repulse than to relieve, cannot
but render the heart callous, and the manners harsh. The avarice of
commerce, which is here unaccompanied by its liberality, is glad to
confound real distress with voluntary and idle indigence, till, in time,
an absence of feeling becomes part of the character; and the constant
habit of petulant refusals, or of acceding more from fatigue than
benevolence, has perhaps a similar effect on the voice, gesture, and
external.
This place has been so often visited by those who describe better than
myself, that I have thought it unnecessary to mention public buildings,
or any thing equally obvious to the traveller or the resident. The
beauty and elegance of the cathedral have been celebrated for ages, and I
only remind you of it to indulge my national vanity in the reflection
that one of the most splendid monuments of Gothic architecture in France
is the work of our English ancestors. The edifice is in perfect
preservation, and the hand of power has not yet ventured to appropriate
the plate or ornaments; but this forbearance will most probably give way
to temptation and impunity. The Convention will respect ancient
prejudices no longer than they suppose the people have courage to defend
them, and the latter seem so entirely subdued, that, however they may
murmur, I do not think any serious resistance is to be expected from
them, even in behalf of the relics of St. Firmin. [St. Firmin, the patron
of Amiens, where he is, in many of the streets, represented with his head
in his hand.]--The bust of Henry the Fourth, which was a present from the
Monarch himself, is banished the town-house, where it was formerly
placed, though, I hope, some royalist has taken possession of it, and
deposited it in safety till better times. This once popular Prince is
now associated with Nero and Caligula, and it is "leze nation" to speak
of him to a thorough republican.--I know not if the French had before the
revolution reached the acme of perfection, but they have certainly been
retrograding very fast since. Every thing that used to create fondness
and veneration is despised, and things are esteemed only in proportion as
they are worthless. Perhaps the bust of Robespierre may one day replace
that of Henry the Fourth, and, to speak in the style of an eastern
epistle, "what can I say more?"
Should you ever travel this way with Gray in your hand, you will look for
the Ursuline convent, and regret the paintings he mentions: but you may
recollect, for your consolation, that they are merely pretty, and
remarkable only for being the work of one of the nuns.--Gray, who seems
to have had that enthusiastic respect for religious orders common to
young minds, admired them on this account; and numbers of English
travellers have, I dare say, prepossessed by such an authority,
experienced the same disappointment I myself felt on visiting the
Ursuline church. Many of the chapels belonging to these communities were
very showy and much decorated with gilding and sculpture: some of them
are sold for a mere trifle, but the greatest part are filled with corn
and forage, and on the door is inscribed "Magazin des armees." The
change is almost incredible to those who remember, that less than four
years ago the Catholic religion was strictly practised, and the violation
of these sanctuaries deemed sacrilegious. Our great historian [Gibbon]
might well say "the influence of superstition is fluctuating and
precarious;" though, in the present instance, it has rather been
restrained than subdued; and the people, who have not been convinced, but
intimidated, secretly lament these innovations, and perhaps reproach
themselves conscientiously with their submission.--Yours.
June 20, 1793.
Mercier, in his Tableau de Paris, notices, on several occasions, the
little public spirit existing among his countrymen--it is also
observable, that many of the laws and customs presume on this deficiency,
and the name of republicans has by no means altered that cautious
disposition which makes the French consider either misfortunes or
benefits only as their personal interest is affected by them.--I am just
returned from a visit to Abbeville, where we were much alarmed on Sunday
by a fire at the Paraclete convent. The tocsin rang great part of the
day, and the principal street of the town was in danger of being
destroyed. In such circumstances, you will suppose, that people of all
ranks eagerly crouded to offer their service, and endeavour to stop the
progress of so terrible a calamity. By no means--the gates of the town
were shut to prevent its entire evacuation, many hid themselves in
garrets and cellars, and dragoons patrolled the streets, and even entered
the houses, to force the inhabitants to assist in procuring water; while
the consternation, usually the effect of such accidents, was only owing
to the fear of being obliged to aid the sufferers.--This employment of
military coercion for what humanity alone should dictate, is not
ascribeable to the principles of the present government--it was the same
before the revolution, (except that the agents of the ancient system were
not so brutal and despotic as the soldiers of the republic,) and
compulsion was always deemed necessary where there was no stimulant but
the general interest.
In England, at any alarm of the fort, all distinction of ranks is
forgotten, and every one is solicitous to contribute as much as he is
able to the safety of his fellow-citizens; and, so far from an armed
force being requisite to procure assistance, the greatest difficulty is
to repress the too-officious zeal of the croud.--I do not pretend to
account for this national disparity, but I fear what a French gentleman
once said to me of the Parisians is applicable to the general character,
_"Ils sont tous egoistes,"_ ["They are all selfish!"] and they would not
do a benevolent action at the risk of soiling a coat or tearing a ruffle.
Distrust of the assignats, and scarcity of bread, have occasioned a law
to oblige the farmers, in every part of the republic, to sell their corn
at a certain price, infinitely lower than what they have exacted for some
months past. The consequence of this was, that, on the succeeding market
days, no corn came to market, and detachments of dragoons are obliged to
scour the country to preserve us from a famine. If it did not convey an
idea both of the despotism and want with which the nation is afflicted,
one should be amused by the ludicrous figures of the farmers, who enter
the town preceded by soldiers, and reposing with doleful visages on their
sacks of wheat. Sometimes you see a couple of dragoons leading in
triumph an old woman and an ass, who follow with lingering steps their
military conductors; and the very ass seems to sympathize with his
mistress on the disaster of selling her corn at a reduced price, and for
paper, when she had hoped to hoard it till a counter-revolution should
bring back gold and silver.
The farmers are now, perhaps, the greatest aristocrates in the country;
but as both their patriotism and their aristocracy have been a mere
calculation of interest, the severity exercised on their avarice is not
much to be regretted. The original fault is, however, in an usurped
government, which inspires no confidence, and which, to supply an
administration lavish beyond all example, has been obliged to issue such
an immense quantity of paper as nearly destroys its credit. In
political, as in moral, vices, the first always necessitates a second,
and these must still be sustained by others; until, at length, the very
sense of right and wrong becomes impaired, and the latter is not only
preferred from habit, but from choice.
Thus the arbitrary emission of paper has been necessarily followed by
still more arbitrary decrees to support it. For instance--the people
have been obliged to sell their corn at a stated price, which has again
been the source of various and general vexations. The farmers, irritated
by this measure, concealed their grain, or sold it privately, rather than
bring it to market.--Hence, some were supplied with bread, and others
absolutely in want of it. This was remedied by the interference of the
military, and a general search for corn has taken place in all houses
without exception, in order to discover if any was secreted; even our
bedchambers were examined on this occasion: but we begin to be so
accustomed to the visite domiciliaire, that we find ourselves suddenly
surrounded by the Garde Nationale, without being greatly alarmed.--I know
not how your English patriots, who are so enamoured of French liberty,
yet thunder with the whole force of their eloquence against the ingress
of an exciseman to a tobacco warehouse, would reconcile this domestic
inquisition; for the municipalities here violate your tranquillity in
this manner under any pretext they choose, and that too with an armed
cortege sufficient to undertake the siege of your house in form.
About fifteen departments are in insurrection, ostensibly in behalf of
the expelled Deputies; but I believe I am authorized in saying, it is by
no means the desire of the people at large to interfere. All who are
capable of reflection consider the dispute merely as a family quarrel,
and are not partial enough to either party to adopt its cause. The
tropps they have already raised have been collected by the personal
interest of the members who contrived to escape, or by an attempt of a
few of the royalists to make one half of the faction subservient to the
destruction of the other. If you judge of the principles of the nation
by the success of the Foederalists,* and the superiority of the
Convention, you will be extremely deceived; for it is demonstrable, that
neither the most zealous partizans of the ancient system, nor those of
the abolished constitution, have taken any share in the dispute; and the
departments most notoriously aristocratic have all signified their
adherence to the proceedings of the Assembly.
* On the 31st of May and 2d of June, the Convention, who had been
for some months struggling with the Jacobins and the municipality of
Paris, was surrounded by an armed force: the most moderate of the
Deputies (those distinguished by the name of Brissotins,) were
either menaced into a compliance with the measures of the opposite
faction, or arrested; others took flight, and, by representing the
violence and slavery in which the majority of the Convention was
holden, excited some of the departments to take arms in their
favour.--This contest, during its short existence, was called the
war of the Foederalists.--The result is well known.
Those who would gladly take an active part in endeavouring to establish a
good government, are averse from risking their lives and properties in
the cause of Brissot or Condorcet.--At Amiens, where almost every
individual is an aristocrate, the fugitive Deputies could not procure the
least encouragement, but the town would have received Dumouriez, and
proclaimed the King without opposition. But this schism in the
legislature is considered as a mere contest of banditti, about the
division of spoil, not calculated to excite an interest in those they
have plundered and oppressed.
The royalists who have been so mistaken as to make any effort on this
occasion, will, I fear, fall a sacrifice, having acted for the most part
without union or concert; and their junction with the Deputies renders
them suspicious, if not odious, to their own party. The extreme
difficulty, likewise, of communication between the departments, and the
strict watch observed over all travellers, form another obstacle to the
success of any attempt at present; and, on the whole, the only hope of
deliverance for the French seems to rest upon the allied armies and the
insurgents of La Vendee.
When I say this, I do not assert from prejudices, which often deceive,
nor from conjecture, that is always fallible; but from unexceptionable
information--from an intercourse with various ranks of people, and a
minute observance of all. I have scarcely met with a single person who
does not relate the progress of the insurgents in La Vendee with an air
of satisfaction, or who does not appear to expect with impatience the
surrender of Conde: and even their language, perhaps unconsciously,
betrays their sentiments, for I remark, they do not, when they speak of
any victory gained by the arms of the republic, say, Nous, or Notre
armee, but, Les Francais, and, Les troupes de la republique;--and that
always in a tone as though they were speaking of an enemy.--Adieu.
June 30, 1793.
Our modern travellers are mostly either sentimental or philosophical, or
courtly or political; and I do not remember to have read any who describe
the manner of living among the gentry and middle ranks of life in France.
I will, therefore, relieve your attention for a moment from our actual
distresses, and give you the picture of a day as usually passed by those
who have easy fortunes and no particular employment.--The social
assemblage of a whole family in the morning, as in England, is not very
common, for the French do not generally breakfast: when they do, it is
without form, and on fruit, bread, wine, and water, or sometimes coffee;
but tea is scarcely ever used, except by the sick. The morning is
therefore passed with little intercourse, and in extreme dishabille. The
men loiter, fiddle, work tapestry, and sometimes read, in a robe de
chambre, or a jacket and _"pantalons;"_ [Trowsers.] while the ladies,
equipped only in a short manteau and petticoat, visit their birds, knit,
or, more frequently, idle away the forenoon without doing any thing. It
is not customary to walk or make visits before dinner, and if by chance
any one calls, he is received in the bedchamber. At half past one or two
they dine, but without altering the negligence of their apparel, and the
business of the toilette does not begin till immediately after the
repast. About four, visits of ceremony begin, and may be made till six
or seven according to the season; but those who intend passing an evening
at any particular house, go before six, and the card parties generally
finish between eight and nine. People then adjourn to their supper
engagements, which are more common than those for dinner, and are, for
the most part, in different places, and considered as a separate thing
from the earlier amusements of the evening. They keep better hours than
the English, most families being in bed by half past ten. The theatres
are also regulated by these sober habits, and the dramatic
representations are usually over by nine.
A day passed in this manner is, as you may imagine, susceptible of much
ennui, and the French are accordingly more subject to it than
to any other complaint, and hold it in greatest dread than either
sickness or misfortune. They have no conception how one can remain two
hours alone without being ennuye a la mort; and but few, comparatively
speaking, read for amusement: you may enter ten houses without seeing a
book; and it is not to be wondered at that people, who make a point of
staying at home all the morning, yet do not read, are embarrassed with
the disposition of so much time.--It is this that occasions such a
general fondness for domestic animals, and so many barbarous musicians,
and male-workers of tapestry and tambour.
I cannot but attribute this littleness and dislike of morning exercise to
the quantity of animal food the French eat at night, and to going to rest
immediately after it, in consequence of which their activity is checked
by indigestions, and they feel heavy and uncomfortable for half the
succeeding day.--The French pique themselves on being a gayer nation than
the English; but they certainly must exclude their mornings from the
account, for the forlorn and neglected figure of a Frenchman till dinner
is a very antidote to chearfulness, especially if contrasted with the
animation of our countrymen, whose forenoon is passed in riding or
walking, and who make themselves at least decent before they appear even
in their own families.
The great difficulty the French have in finding amusement makes them
averse from long residences in the country, and it is very uncommon for
those who can afford only one house not to prefer a town; but those whose
fortune will admit of it, live about three months of the year in the
country, and the rest in the neighbouring town. This, indeed, as they
manage it, is no very considerable expence, for the same furniture often
serves for both habitations, and the one they quit being left empty,
requires no person to take charge of it, especially as house-breaking is
very uncommon in France; at least it was so before the revolution, when
the police was more strict, and the laws against robbers were more
severe.
You will say, I often describe the habits and manners of a nation so
frequently visited, as though I were writing from Kamschatka or Japan;
yet it is certain, as I have remarked above, that those who are merely
itinerant have not opportunities of observing the modes of familiar life
so well as one who is stationary, and travellers are in general too much
occupied by more important observations to enter into the minute and
trifling details which are the subject of my communications to you. But
if your attention be sometimes fatigued by occurrences or relations too
well known, or of too little consequence to be interesting, I claim some
merit in never having once described the proportions of a building, nor
given you the history of a town; and I might have contrived as well to
tax your patience by an erudite description, as a superficial reflection,
or a female remark. The truth is, my pen is generally guided by
circumstances as they rise, and my ideas have seldom any deeper origin
than the scene before me. I have no books here, and I am apt to think if
professed travellers were deprived of this resource, many learned
etymologies and much profound compilation would be lost to the modern
reader.
The insurgents of La Vendee continue to have frequent and decided
successes, but the insurrections in the other departments languish. The
avowed object of liberating the Convention is not calculated to draw
adherents, and if any better purpose be intended, while a faction are the
promoters of it, it will be regarded with too much suspicion to procure
any effectual movement. Yet, however partial and unconnected this revolt
may be, it is an object of great jealousy and inquietude: all the
addresses or petitions brought in favour of it are received with
disapprobation, and suppressed in the official bulletin of the
legislature; but those which express contrary sentiments are ordered to
be inserted with the usual terms of "applaudi, adopte, et mention
honorable."--In this manner the army and the people, who derive their
intelligence from these accounts (which are pasted up in the streets,)
are kept in ignorance of the real state of distant provinces, and, what
is still more important for the Convention, the communication of
examples, which they know so many are disposed to imitate, is retarded.
The people here are nearly in the same state they have been in for some
time--murmuring in secret, and submitting in public; expecting every
thing from that energy in others which they have not themselves, and
accumulating the discontents they are obliged to suppress. The
Convention call them the brave republicans of Amiens; but if their
bravery were as unequivocal as their aristocracy, they would soon be at
the gates of Paris. Even the first levies are not all departed for the
frontiers, and some who were prevailed on to go are already returned.--
All the necessaries of life are augmenting in price--the people complain,
pillage the shops and the markets one day, and want the next. Many of
the departments have opposed the recruiting much more decidedly than they
have ventured to do here; and it was not without inspiring terror by
numerous arrests, that the levies which were immediately necessary were
procured.--France offers no prospect but that of scarcity, disorder, and
oppression; and my friends begin to perceive that we have committed an
imprudence in remaining so long. No passports can now be obtained, and
we must, as well as several very respectable families still here, abide
the event of the war.
Some weeks have elapsed since I had letters from England, and those we
receive from the interior come open, or sealed with the seal of the
district. This is not peculiar to our letters, as being foreigners, but
the same unceremonious inspection is practised with the correspondence of
the French themselves. Thus, in this land of liberty, all epistolary
intercourse has ceased, except for mere matters of business; and though
in the declaration of the rights of man it be asserted, that every one is
entitled to write or print his thoughts, yet it is certain no person can
entrust a letter to the post, but at the risk of having it opened; nor
could Mr. Thomas Paine himself venture to express the slightest
disapprobation of the measures of government, without hazarding his
freedom, and, in the end, perhaps, his life. Even these papers, which I
reserve only for your amusement, which contain only the opinions of an
individual, and which never have been communicated, I am obliged to
conceal with the utmost circumspection; for should they happen to fall
into the hands of our domiciliary inquisitors, I should not, like your
English liberties, escape with the gentle correction of imprisonment, or
the pillory.--A man, who had murdered his wife, was lately condemned to
twenty years imprisonment only; but people are guillotined every day for
a simple discourse, or an inadvertent expression.--Yours.
Amiens, July 5, 1793.