I am once more in Paris. A thousand painful recollections obtrude
themselves on my mind, and I am almost afraid to inquire after my
former acquaintances. I know not where I shall address myself for
information, or where I shall first set my foot. When I reflect upon
the strange vicissitudes of fortune I have experienced; when I recall
the whirlpool of danger I have passed, and the proscription which,
with some mean and pusillanimous minds, is still considered to hang
over me, I am doubtful whether I am prudent to venture again into the
source of all my injuries. The motive that brought me from England, the
desire of ascertaining the fate of a relative, so dearly beloved and so
long lost, gives strength to my resolution and dissipates my personal
anxieties. But I am both low and dejected in mind and spirits.
[Sidenote: A DESCRIPTION OF THE _MODE_]
I will attempt to give a faithful account of this capital, which may
be considered as the manufactory whence all the horrors and changes
of the _Revolution_ have originated. France as a country should
not be judged by the dissolute principles of the inhabitants of her
metropolis. In the provinces remote from the centre of government as
much character and simplicity exist as in the best regulated empires.
The _Revolution_ may in _some_ degree have changed the innocence of the
peasantry, and corrupted the primitive integrity of their character.
The cause of this may be traced to the artifices of demagogues and
atheists. In the mountains of the Vosges, in La Vendée and in the
South-Western parts of the Republic, the people of both town and
country possess an originality of character founded on sentiments
of generosity and virtue. But in many Departments of the Republic,
particularly the Department of the Seine, every principle of Society is
inverted, and Society itself is loathsome, abhorrent, corrupt, poisoned
and poisonous.
My first duty was to visit those old friends who had survived the
general wreck of moral order. From them I hoped to learn the history of
those who had perished. With an anxious mind I hastened after dinner to
the Rue Jacob, in the Faubourg S. Germain, to see if my old friend M.
Suédaeur was alive. I inquired if the doctor resided there; the answer
was affirmative, but he was not at home. I proceeded to the Rue Niçoise
and found M. de la Metherie in perfect health and better spirits than
on that gloomy night in 1793 when we last parted. From him I learnt
the fatal end of many of my acquaintance, but he mentioned several who
were not only in existence but prosperous, and gave me considerable
encouragement in what was the main object of my journey to Paris.
I returned home to find a citizen hairdresser playing the devil with my
wife’s locks. He had so clipped and twisted them as to give her the air
of a person just issued from the bath. Upon my seriously remonstrating
against this wild appearance, he very coolly informed me that it was
_La Mode_, and unless my pate was better organised it would be
impossible for me to go into good company. I immediately submitted
to an operation. My tail was instantly amputated and the hair of my
unfortunate head frizzled into such a multitude of compound forms as
to give me precisely the appearance of one of the ourang outangs which
is to be seen over Exeter Change. Having undergone this ceremony, I
supposed I was now in the _Mode_. But no! He pulled from his
pocket two horrible whiskers, which were to extend from my cheek bones
and meet at the bottom of my chin, and another piece of hair which was
to be hid under my neckcloth and fly up so as to cover my chin.
“What is all this apparatus for?”
“To complete you in the Parisian _mode_.”
“I will not submit to be made into a baboon.”
“But, sir, you must! It is _La Mode_!”
“I tell you I will not obey _La Mode_!”
“Donc, monsieur, vous êtes perdu!”
“If you trouble me with another word on this subject I shall be under
the indispensable necessity of knocking you down.”
Thus by an act of matchless fortitude I rescued myself from the hands
of this prattler, but not till he had extracted from me eighteen
shillings for having made my companion look wild, myself like a monkey,
and annoyed me with perfumes and gallipots.
Before we were allowed to retire to rest a tailor, a hatter and a
glover made their appearance. All honest tradesmen in Paris are really
to be pitied, a long and sanguinary war has ruined their commerce, and
these poor hungry wretches are as voracious as sharks. It is impossible
to complain of them. To all these civil gentlemen I returned a plain
answer, saying I had brought from England every article necessary for
use during my residence in France. On which they retired with great
politeness, and left me for the first time in nine years to take repose
in the capital of a nation whose former rulers thirsted to shed our
blood.