LETTER I.

WHILE far along the moral hori⯑zon of France the tempeſt became every hour more black and turbulent, the ſpring, earlier and more profuſe of graces than in the climate of England, aroſe in its unſullied freſhneſs, and formed a con⯑traſt at which humanity ſickened. The lovely environs of Paris are not, like thoſe of London, ſo encumbered with houſes and buildings that you muſt travel ten or twelve miles from town to find the coun⯑try, [2] but, the moment you have paſſed the barriers of the city, preſent you with all the charming variety of vine-clad hills, and fields, and woods, and lawns. Imme⯑diately after our releaſe from priſon we quitted our apartments in the centre of the town, and tried to ſhelter ourſelves from obſervation in an habitation ſitu⯑ated in the moſt remote part of the faux⯑bourg Germain. From thence a few minutes walk led us to the country. But we no longer dared, as we had done the preceding year, to forget awhile the horrors of our ſituation by wandering occaſionally amidſt the noble parks of St. Cloud, the wild woods of Meudon, or the elegant gardens of Bellevue, all within an hour's ride of Paris. Thoſe ſeats, once the reſidence of fallen royalty, were now haunted by vulgar deſpots, by revolution⯑ary commiſſaries, by ſpies of the police, and ſometimes by the ſanguinary decem⯑virs themſelves. Often they held their [3] feſtive orgies in thoſe ſcenes of beauty, where they dared to caſt their polluting glance on nature, and tread with profane ſteps her hallowed receſſes. Even the revolutionary jury uſed ſometimes on a decadi, the only day of ſuſpenſion from their work of death, to go to Marly or Verſailles; and, ſteeped as they were to the very lips in blood, without being haunted by the mangled ſpectres of thoſe whom they had murdered the preceding day, they ſaw nature in her moſt benign aſpect, pleading the cauſe of humanity and mercy, and returned to feaſt upon the groans of thoſe whom they were to murder on the morrow.

Thoſe regions of decorated beauty be⯑ing now forbidden ground, we confined our walks to ſome paſturage lands near the town, which were interſperſed with a few ſcattered hamlets, and ſkirted by hills, and were ſo unfrequented, that we heard no ſounds except the ſheep-bell, [4] and the nightingales, and ſaw no human figure but an old peaſant with a white beard, who together with a large black dog took care of the flock. It was in theſe walks that the ſoul, which the ſcenes of Paris petrified with terror, melted at the view of the ſoothing landſcape, and that the eye was lifted up to heaven with tears of reſignation mingled with hope. I have no words to paint the ſtrong feeling of reluctance with which I always returned from our walks to Paris, that den of carnage, that ſlaughter⯑houſe of man. How I envied the pea⯑ſant his lonely hut! for I had now al⯑moſt loſt the idea of ſocial happineſs. My diſturbed imagination divided the communities of men but into two claſſes, the oppreſſor and the oppreſſed; and peace ſeemed only to exiſt with ſoli⯑tude.

On the 15th of Germinal (the begin⯑ning of April,) the committee of public [5] ſafety, or rather of public extermination, cauſed a law to bepaſſed, ordering all the former nobility and ſtrangers to leave Paris within ten days, under the penalty of be⯑ing put out of the law; which meant, that if found in Paris after that period, they were to be led to the ſcaffold without a tri⯑al, as ſoon as their perſons were identified. This law, to which my family and myſelf were ſubject, was a part of the plan of general proſcription that Robeſpierre had formed againſt nobles and foreigners; and which he was now impatient to put in force. We were ordered by the decree, after chooſing the place of our retreat, to preſent ourſelves at the revolutionary committee of our reſpective ſections, who delivered to each of us not a paſſport, but what was called a paſs, on which was written a declaration that we left Paris in conformity to the law of the 26th of Germinal. Thus were we condemn⯑ed to wander into the country with this [6] paſs, which was the mark of Cain upon our foreheads, and which under pain of impriſonment we were to depoſit at the municipality where we bent our courſe; and we were alſo condemned to preſent ourſelves every twenty-four hours before the municipality and inſcribe our names on a liſt, which was to be diſpatched every decade to the committee of public ſafety. And leſt the country municipa⯑lities ſhould miſtake the intentions of the committee, and treat particular indi⯑viduals with lenity upon their produ⯑cing teſtimonies of their attachment to the cauſe of the revolution, theſe devoted victims were ordered by a decree to burn every certificate of civiſm of which they might happen to be in poſſeſſion. We choſe for the place of our retreat a lit⯑tle village half a mile diſtant from Marly, and with hearts overwhelmed with an⯑guiſh bade adieu to my ſiſter, who, being married to a Frenchman, was exempted [7] from the law; and we were once more driven from our home, not to return un⯑der the penalty of death. Our neigh⯑bours came weeping to our gate to take leave of us; and the poor, who were the only claſs which now dared to utter a complaint, murmured loudly at the in⯑juſtice of the decree. We were obli⯑ged to paſs the ſquare of the revolution, where we ſaw the guillotine erected, the crowd aſſembled for the bloody tragedy, and the gens d'armes on horſeback, fol⯑lowed by victims who were to be ſacri⯑ficed, entering the ſquare. Such was the daily ſpectacle which had ſucceeded the painted ſhows, the itinerant theatres, the mountebank, the dance, the ſong, the ſhifting ſcenes of harmleſs gaiety, which uſed to attract the cheerful crowd as they paſſed from the Thuilleries to the Champs Eliſées.

When we reached the barrier we were ſtopped by a concourſe of carriages filled [8] with former nobles, and were obliged to wait till our paſſes were examined in our turn. The proceſſion at the gate was ſingular and affecting. Moſt of the fu⯑gitives having, like ourſelves, deferred their departure till the laſt day, and it being the forfeiture of our heads to be found in Paris the day following, the demand for carriages was ſo great, and the price exacted by thoſe who let them out, and who knew the urgency of the caſe, ſo exorbitant, that a coach or cha⯑riot was a luxury which fell only to the lot of a favoured few. The greater num⯑ber were furniſhed with cabriolets, which ſeemed from their tottering condition ſomewhat emblematical of decayed no⯑bility; and many who found even theſe crazy vehicles too coſtly, journeyed in the carts which tranſported their furni⯑ture, ſeated upon the chairs they were conveying to their new abodes.

We reached our little dwelling at the [9] hour of ſun-ſet. The hills were fringed with clouds, which ſtill reflected the fading colours of the day; the woods were in deep ſhadow; a ſoft veil was thrown over nature, and objects indiſ⯑tinctly ſeen were decorated by imagination with thoſe graces which were moſt con⯑genial to the feelings of the moment. The air was full of delicious fragrance, and the ſtillneſs of the ſcene was only diſ⯑turbed by ſounds the moſt ſoothing in nature, the ſoft ruſtling of the leaves, or the plaintive notes of the wood-pigeon. The tears which the ſpectacle of the guil⯑lotine had petrified with horror, now flowed again with melancholy luxury. Our habitation was ſituated within a few paces of the noble park of Marly; and the deſerted alleys overgrown with long graſs—the encumbering fragments of rock, over which once fell the mimic caſ⯑cades, whoſe ſtreams no longer murmur—the piles of marble which once formed the [10] bed of cryſtal baſons—the ſcattered ma⯑chinery of the jets d'eaux, whoſe ſources are dried—the fallen ſtatues—the defaced ſymbols of feudality—the weeds ſpringing between the ſtone ſteps of the aſcent to the deſerted palace—the cobwebbed win⯑dows of the gay pavillions, were all in union with that penſiveneſs of mind which our preſent circumſtances natu⯑rally excited. And here, where we could ſee nothing of Paris but the diſtant dome of the Pantheon, we ſhould have been leſs unhappy, if we had not too well known that the committee of public ſafety had not ſent nobles and foreigners into the country to enjoy the freſhneſs of rural gales, or the beauty of the opening ſpring, but as the firſt ſtep towards a ge⯑neral proſcription; and as we paſſed every evening through the park of Marly, in order to appear before the municipa⯑lity, that appalling idea "breathed a browner horror over the woods." We [11] were again reſcued from the general dan⯑ger by the two benevolent commiſſaries of the revolutionary committee of our ſection, who when they came to conduct us to priſon had treated us with ſo much gentleneſs, who had afterwards reclaimed us of the adminiſtration of police, and who now, unſolicited and even unaſked, went to the committee of public ſafety, declared they would anſwer for us with their lives, and cauſed us to be put into requiſition; a form which enabled us to return to Paris, and thus ſnatched us from the claſs of the ſuſpected and the pro⯑ſcribed. To their humanity we probably owe our exiſtence; and I ſhall ever recol⯑lect with gratitude that noble courage which led them amidſt the cruel impulſe of revolutionary government, the move⯑ment of which was accelerated as it went on, to pauſe and ſuccour the unfortu⯑nate. I have the ſatisfaction of adding, that thoſe commiſſaries are now at liberty [12] on account of their general good con⯑duct, while ſcarcely any other members of revolutionary committees have eſcaped impriſonment. Our benefactors have in⯑deed a right to this honourable ex⯑ception; who, although appointed the immediate agents of terror, the order of the day, regulated their actions by the eternal code of humanity.

A ſhort time before our departure from Paris, the guillotine, upon which ſo many innocent victims had been ſacrificed, for once ſtreamed with the blood of the guilty:

One of the ſecrets of Robeſpierre's go⯑vernment was to employ as the ſtep-lad⯑ders of his ambition men whoſe charac⯑ters were marked with opprobrium, or ſtained with crimes. Such men were beſt [13] ſuited to his purpoſe; ſince they were not likely to pauſe in the execution of his orders, depending upon his favour, perhaps, for ſhelter from legal puniſh⯑ment; and when they had fulfilled the part he allotted them, and he no longer ſtood in need of their agency, he had ſuf⯑ficient addreſs to lead them to make ſome extravagant propoſition, which he deno⯑minated ultra-revolutionary, and for which he ſent them to the ſcaffold, even with the approbation of the public. Such was the ſentiment excited by the execution of Hebert, one of the chiefs of the munici⯑pality of Paris, whoſe arreſt by the com⯑miſſion of twelve, previouſly to the thirty-firſt of May, had ſerved the conſpirators as the ſignal for ringing that fatal tocſin which was the knell of liberty. Hebert was the man who upon the trial of Marie Antoinette outraged all the feelings of nature, by an accuſation which wrung from her burſting heart that affecting ap⯑peal [14] to every mother who was preſent. It was he who loaded her with the indig⯑nity of groſs abuſe, and poured the bit⯑terneſs of inſult into the cup of death. He ſoon after acted again at the revolu⯑tionary tribunal the part of evidence againſt the twenty-one; thoſe virtuous patriots, the Sidneys and the Ruſſels of their country, whoſe martyrdom has been avenged, not as they wiſhed, but as they predicted, by ſcenes of univerſal deſolation and deſpair.

Hebert was commonly called Pere du Cheſne, on account of a daily paper he publiſhed, bearing that title. In this paper he profeſſed to tread in the ſteps of Marat, and indeed he proved himſelf worthy to be his lineal ſucceſſor. He had the ſame inſatiable thirſt of blood; he demanded with the ſame vehemence the heads of all conſpirators, nobles, bank⯑ers, writers and merchants, the faction of federaliſts, and the faction of Pitt and [15] Cobourg. Thoſe mild demands were breathed in the language of the loweſt vulgar: every line was enforced by an oath, and every period rounded by an im⯑precation. Camille Deſmoulins, after drawing the character of this journal, concluded by ſaying that it was written "pour faire les délices de Coblentz, et le ſeul eſpoir de Pitt^*." Such was Hebert! who having ſucceeded with his colleagues of the municipality in accompliſhing what they called the revolution of the 31ſt of May, felt with indignation that his revolutionary genius was forced to bend before the genius of Robeſpierre, and determined to immortalize the month of Ventoſe by a new revolution.

They had hitherto met with ſuch ſplendid ſucceſs in inſurrection, that they began to think it was no very dif⯑ficult enterpriſe, now that the routine [16] was known. It was but to ring the tocſin, beat the generale, put the city under arms, take the direction of the military force, overthrow the committee of public ſafe⯑ty, and ſeize the reins of government. The ides of March, however, proved as fatal to the dominion of the red cap, as they had heretofore done to that of the purple robe. In vain Hebert mounted the tribune at the Cordeliers, aſſerted that tyranny exiſted, and cauſed a black veil to be thrown over the table of the rights of man—In vain the ſection of Marat declared itſelf in inſurrection: the other ſections of Paris were of opinion, that to go from the committee of public ſafety to the municipality was flying from Scylla to Charybdis; and though all France groaned under the tyranny of the com⯑mittee, there was little hope that the wounds of the bleeding country would be healed by men who were the leaders of maſſacre, and the preachers of the agra⯑rian [17] law. The Pariſians therefore ap⯑plauded the decree which ſent Hebert and twenty of his co-adjutors in revolu⯑tionary crimes to that ſanguinary tribu⯑nal, which, after a mockery of trial, or⯑dered them to execution, "and bade the cruel feel the pains they gave." There appeared ſo much of retribution in the circumſtances that attended the death of Hebert and his colleagues, that it ſeemed as if Heaven were viſibly ſtretching forth its arm to puniſh the guilty. For it is re⯑markable enough, that they were not tried for any of the multiplied crimes they had committed, but for having aſ⯑ſerted that tyranny exiſted: a ſacred truth which every heart ſwelled to acknow⯑ledge, though no lips but theirs had dared to give it utterance.—The behavi⯑our of Hebert and his aſſociates upon the approach of death was far different from that of the innocent ſufferers who had conſciences void of reproach. Along [18] thoſe ſubterraneous galleries where all the light which entered was "darkneſs viſible," terrific phantoms covered with blood ſeemed to purſue their ſteps, and with menacing looks prepare to drag them to abyſſes of deeper horror: they fan⯑cied they ſaw the headleſs trunks of mur⯑dered victims encumbering the ground; they heard human groans and ſhrieks ſounding hollow through the vaulted paſſages; while the knife of the guillo⯑tine, like Macbeth's aërial dagger, hung ſuſpended before their affrighted imagi⯑nation. Anacharſis Clootz, a Pruſſian baron and a member of the national con⯑vention, known by the title which he con⯑ferred upon himſelf, of orator of the hu⯑man race, ſuffered death with this band of ruſſians. He was alſo a preacher of blood; but, cruelty being the order of the day, what moſt diſtinguiſhed him from others was not the ferocity of his prin⯑ciples, but the chimeras of his imagina⯑tion. [19] His publications which were nu⯑merous, were always dated Paris, chef lieu du globe ^*;" and he ſeriouſly propoſed, that as ſoon as all the potentates of the earth were overthrown, an event of which he had a bird's eye view from the begin⯑ning of the French revolution, the people of every nation ſhould ſend their repre⯑ſentatives to Paris, who ſhould be ho⯑noured with ſeats in the national aſſem⯑bly of France, and there form an univer⯑ſal republic, of which France ſhould be the centre, and the other kingdoms of the world the departments. He propoſed for inſtance, that as ſoon as the deputies of the Engliſh nation arrived, England ſhould take the name of Le departement de la Tamiſe^†.

Soon after the memorable 10th of Au⯑guſt, Anacharſis marched to the bar of the legiſlative aſſembly at the head of a [20] number of men he had hired to repreſent the natives of every quarter of the globe, and who were clad in the reſpective dreſſes of the people they perſonated. This embaſſy of the human race de⯑clared, by the organ of their common orator Anacharſis, their admiration of the French republic, and their attachment to its cauſe. The concluſion of this drama however was leſs ſplendid than the opening ſcene at the bar of the con⯑vention; for the next morning the door of Anacharſis was beſet with Italians, Germans, Swedes, Poles, Jews, Turks, and Ruſſians, clamorouſly demanding to be paid: but none were more noiſy in their vociferations than a Calmuck Tartar, and an Indian of the banks of the Ohio, who menaced their orator with the ven⯑geance of the whole fauxbourg of St. Antoine, if he refuſed to pay them for the loſs of their day's labour, and the hire of their dreſſes. Anacharſis, after much al⯑tercation, [21] came to a compromiſe with the deputation of the human race, who de⯑parted not very well ſatisfied with their champion.—Clootz met death with more firmneſs than might have been expected from his general character, and his athe⯑iſtical principles. Hebert and his col⯑leagues paſſed their time, when together, like the fallen ſpirits in Milton, in mu⯑tual accuſation, till Clootz with a loud voice recited to them thoſe well-known lines:

This citation had the effect he wiſhed: they became reconciled to each other; and Clootz, whoſe only apprehenſion was leſt any of them ſhould die in reli⯑gious belief, preached atheiſm to them till their laſt ſigh.

The death of Hebert was the ſignal [22] for throwing off the hideous maſquerade of ſanſculottiſm, in which all the world had been arrayed during the winter, in ſubmiſſive deference to his interpreta⯑tion of equality. Immediately after his execution, the ſcene ſuddenly changed: black wigs, red caps, ſailors' jackets, and pantaloons were caſt aſide; and the eye was refreſhed with the ſight of combed locks, clean linen, and decent apparel;—while the women, who for ſome months had reluctantly bound up their hair beneath the round cap of the peaſant, now unfolded their treſſes, per⯑fumed and powdered, to the vernal gales, and decorated in whatever manner they thought proper, provided the national cockade formed one of their ornaments.

LETTER II.

THE execution of Hebert and his colleagues was ſoon followed by that of a conſiderable number of the mountain deputies, among whom were Danton and Camille Deſmoulins, names not un⯑known to fame in the annals of the re⯑volution. Danton had acted a diſtin⯑guiſhed part on the political theatre, be⯑fore Robeſpierre had been heard of; and Camille Deſmoulins, on the day pre⯑ceding the taking of the Baſtille, had the glory of being the firſt man in France who placed the national cockade in his hat, and called upon his fellow-citizens to ſhake off the fetters of deſpotiſm. And ſurely it was glorious to be a leader of the revolution; for, although the ſun of liberty, like the orb of day when ſeen [24] through oppoſing miſts, has been turned into blood, its dawning beams were radiant, and it will again ſhake off the foul vapours that have hung around it, and ſpread that unſullied light which exhilarates all nature.

Robeſpierre was not deterred from marking Danton and Camille Deſmou⯑lins as his victims, by the conſideration that Danton had ſaved him at the mo⯑ment when Louvet's repreſentation of his crimes on the 2d of September had ſo ſtrongly excited the indignation of the convention, that a decree of accuſa⯑tion was on the point of being hurled againſt him; and that Camille Deſmou⯑lins had been his ſchool-fellow and his friend. But the tyrant felt that Dan⯑ton was too "near the throne;" and Camille Deſmoulins had awakened all his fury by an appeal which he made to the people, in a paper called the "Old Cordelier," and which found an echo [25] in every heart. The exceſſive ſeverity of the revolutionary law againſt the ſuſ⯑pected had excited Deſmoulins' indig⯑nation; and in a happy parallel between the capricious tyrannies of the Roman emperors and thoſe of the committees of government^*, he expanded the glow⯑ing preciſion of Tacitus into charges ſo extremely ludicrous, that they honoured lord Shafteſbury's axiom, that ridicule is the teſt of truth. This publication made ſome atonement to humanity for the miſ⯑chiefs which his former writings had produced; above all, that cruel pleaſantry upon the party of the Gironde, on which their act of accuſation was founded. The atonement came too late; tyranny was eſtabliſhed; and Camille Deſmoulins pe⯑riſhed, to uſe his own words, "for hav⯑ing ſhed one tear over the unhappy."

Several other deputies ſuffered at the [26] ſame time; and Camille Deſmoulins ob⯑ſerved when he was going to the ſcaffold, "Robeſpierre fait des coups percés de la convention," alluding to the mode of cutting down the foreſts in France by portions, which are marked to be hewn at certain periods. The perſon moſt re⯑gretted among the deputies who now pe⯑riſhed was Philipeaux, who having been ſent on a miſſion to the Vendée, made known at his return the horrors of which he had been a witneſs, and was dragged to the ſcaffold for having dared to lift up the veil which the conſpirators had thrown over their crimes. Fabre d'Eglan⯑tine, who had been one of the founders of the revolutionary government and the auxiliary of Robeſpierre, periſhed unla⯑mented. He poſſeſſed fine talents for literature, and had written a celebrated comedy, entitled Philinthe. It was ob⯑ſerved, that he had carried the ſpirit of intrigue which prevailed in his comedy [27] into the part he had acted as legiſlator. The love of fame, the prevailing paſſion of authors, he felt ſtrong in death; and all his thoughts ſeemed fixed upon a co⯑medy of five acts, which he had de⯑poſited at the committee of public ſafety, and of which he was afraid Billaud Va⯑rennes would take the credit. Fabre d'Eglantine was alſo the author of the new French calendar. Danton, while at the Conciergerie, often converſed with the priſoners acroſs the bars of his dun⯑geon. He ſeemed aſhamed of having been duped by Robeſpierre, with whom, by means of a common friend, he had an interview a few days before he was arreſted, in order that they might come to an explanation. Danton, after a long converſation, finding that he was unable to move the implacable Robeſpierre, who liſtened to him with a look of inſulting malignity, ſhed ſome tears, and left the room, ſaying, "Je vois que mon ſort [28] eſt décidé, mais ma mort ſera votre ruine^*." This prediction was fulfilled; for no ſooner had Robeſpierre rid him⯑ſelf of all his rivals than he preſſed for⯑ward with a more rapid courſe towards his own deſtruction. Danton in his dungeon expatiated continually on the charms of nature, on the beauties of rural ſcenery, and the peace of rural ſhades. "In revolutions," cried he, "the power always remains in the hands of villains. It is better to be a poor fiſher⯑man than to govern men. Thoſe fools! they will cry `Long live the republic!' on ſeeing me paſs to the ſcaffold.—This day laſt year I cauſed the revolutionary tribunal to be inſtituted. I aſk pardon of God and of men; it was not that it ſhould become the ſcourge of humanity; it was to prevent the renewal of the [29] maſſacres of September." Camille Deſ⯑moulins and Danton, who had both poſ⯑ſeſſed conſiderable powers of eloquence, defended themſelves at the tribunal with ſo lofty a ſpirit, and treated their judges with ſo much diſdain, that at length ir⯑ritated by their contempt and the ſallies of their wit, and impatient at their per⯑ſeverance in vindicating themſelves when it was determined they ſhould die, the public accuſer ſent a letter to the con⯑vention, informing them that the priſon⯑ers were in a ſtate of revolt againſt the tribunal. The committee of public ſafe⯑ty cauſed a decree to be paſſed which put them out of the law, and ſent in⯑ſtantly to execution all ſuch of the ac⯑cuſed as dared to inſult their judges. In vain Danton called upon Barrere, upon Billaud Varennes, and upon other members of the committee of public ſafety to ap⯑pear in evidence. Danton was left to his fate, and ſent with his colleagues to [30] execution. At the gate of the Concier⯑gerie, while the executioner was placing the condemned deputies in the carts, Danton amuſed the crowd who were looking on by many ſportive obſerva⯑tions. He ſaid to Fabre d'Eglantine, who was a poet, "Eh bien, nous de⯑viendrons tous poetes, nous allons tous faire des vers^*." On his way to the ſcaffold his head was bare, and many perſons were ſtruck with its reſemblance to the medals of Socrates. He behaved with remarkable firmneſs, converſing with thoſe who were placed in the ſame cart, and ſometimes anſwering the cries of the populace by looks of ſtrong indignation. When he was tied to the plank he caſt his eyes upwards to the fatal knife, and his countenance and figure aſſumed an expreſſion of magnanimity with which the ſpectators were deeply penetrated.

A proof of the horrible oppreſſion under which we groaned, was, that we lament⯑ed the fate of Danton—of Danton, the miniſter of juſtice on the 2d of Septem⯑ber, and one of the murderers of liberty on the 31ſt of May! Yet with all theſe crimes upon his head, Danton ſtill poſ⯑ſeſſed ſome human affections: his mind was ſtill awake to ſome of the ſenſibili⯑ties of our nature; his temper was frank and ſocial, and humanity in deſpair leant upon him as a ſort of refuge from its worſt oppreſſor. A week after the death of Camille Deſmoulins, his wife, a charm⯑ing woman of twenty-three years of age, was led to the ſcaffold. For her fate no eye except thoſe of her barbarous judges refuſed a tear. Her execution [32] forms an epocha in the annals of the re⯑volutionary government; ſince on that occaſion, for the firſt time, a conſpiracy ſuppoſed in a priſon became the pretext for murder, and multitudes afterwards periſhed the victims of that fatal inven⯑tion. Camille Deſmoulins was in habits of friendſhip with Arthur Dillon, an Iriſh general, who had bravely defended the paſs in the foreſt of Argonne againſt the Pruſſian army, and who held the higheſt rank in the ſervice of the republic. Soon after the 31ſt of May, he was arreſted with multitudes ſoupçonnés d'être ſuſpects ^*, and was confined in the priſon of the Luxembourg. His hopes of regaining his liberty reſted upon the influence of his friend Camille Deſmoulins, and he was deeply affected by the intelligence of his being ſent to the revolutionary tribunal. In his affliction he made uſe of ſome imprudent expreſſions to a fel⯑low [33] priſoner, and ſeemed to flatter him⯑ſelf with the hope that the people would not ſuffer ſuch a patriot as Deſmoulins to periſh. The wretch to whom Dillon confided theſe ſentiments had the atro⯑city to write a denunciation againſt him to the committee of general ſafety, with the view of purchaſing his own freedom by the life of his unfortunate compa⯑nion. Dillon had alſo, a few days before Deſmoulins periſhed, written a letter to his wife, expreſſing his ſympathy in her misfortunes, and his hope that the inno⯑cence of her huſband would yet triumph. In this letter Dillon encloſed three thouſand livres. All theſe circumſtances were made known to the committee; and a few days after the execution of Deſ⯑moulins, Dillon, the turnkey to whom he had offered the letter, and Madame Deſmoulins in the firſt tranſports of grief upon the loſs of a huſband whom ſhe tenderly loved, were ſent by an order [34] of the committee to the Conciergerie to take their trial at the revolutionary tri⯑bunal. It appeared upon the trial that the turnkey had refuſed to take the let⯑ter; upon which Dillon had ſlipt it into his pocket; which the turnkey perceiv⯑ing, returned it to him immediately, and Dillon tore it in pieces. Madame Deſ⯑moulins, it was therefore clear, had never received the letter or the three thouſand livres encloſed. She anſwered the inter⯑rogatories of her judges with the candour of innocence, and the ſweet complacency of her manner ſenſibly affected the ſpec⯑tators. Thoſe aſſaſſins in the robes of juſtice condemned Dillon to die as the author of a conſpiracy in the priſons againſt the ſecurity of the French peo⯑ple; the turnkey was ſent to death for having had ſufficient humanity not to make a declaration to the police of Dil⯑lon's propoſition reſpecting the letter; and the unfortunate Madame Deſmou⯑lins [35] was dragged to the ſcaffold becauſe a letter was written to her which it was [...]early proved had never been ſent. In the firſt anguiſh of ſeparation from the object of our affections, death ceaſes to be an evil; and Madame Deſmoulins dep [...]ored her huſband too tenderly to re⯑gret that they were going to be re-united in a happier ſtate of exiſtence. She dreſſed herſelf in white, and with ſome care; and went with a placid ſmile upon her countenance to execution, converſing with her companions in the cart, particu⯑larly with the wife of Hebert, who was put to death at the ſame time, and met her fate with equal firmneſs. It was one of the ſingular chances of theſe revolu⯑lutionary moments, that Camille Deſ⯑moulins, who with the pointed ſhafts of his wit had overthrown the idol of the populace Hebert, periſhed himſelf but a fortnight later; and that his own wife and the wife of Hebert, ſeated on the ſame [36] ſtone in the Conciergerie, deplored their mutual loſs, and were led together to the ſcaffold. The people, as Madame Deſ⯑moulins paſſed along the ſtreets to exe⯑cution, could not reſiſt uttering exclama⯑tions of pity and admiration. "Comme elle eſt belle! elle a l'air ſi doux! quel dommage qu'elle va périr^*!" At the foot of the ſcaffold ſhe embraced the wife of Hebert, bade her companions in the cart farewell, and reſigned herſelf to the exe⯑cutioner with the ſerenity of an angel. Dillon went to death with great com⯑poſure, and, as he paſſed to execution, bowed to a friend of his and mine whom he ſaw in the ſtreet. Far different from the meek and placid reſignation with which Madame Deſmoulins made the ſacrifice of life in all its bloom and freſh⯑neſs, was the behaviour of Chaumette procureur of the commune, and Gobet [37] the archbiſhop of Paris, who periſhed at the ſame time. Their aſpect teſtified that Death appeared to their perturbed ſpirits, not in the form he wears to ſuffering innocence, to whom he comes the meſ⯑ſenger of peace, but armed with all his ſtings, and clad in all his terrors.

Chaumette, one of the leaders of the conſpiracy of the 31ſt of May, ſaw him⯑ſelf dragged to the ſcaffold by the man whom he had powerfully contributed to raiſe to ſupreme eminence, and for a meaſure by which he expected to confirm his own popularity, which was over⯑throwing the altars of the catholic church. And Gobet, the archbiſhop of Paris, a weak old man, whom Chaumette and Anacharſis Clootz had perſuaded to go with the municipality to the bar of the convention, and at ſixty-ſeven years of age declare that the profeſſion of his life had been impoſture, that he renounced the chriſtian faith and his eccleſiaſtical [38] dignity, and demanded that the churches conſecrated to religious worſhip ſhould henceforth become the temples of Reaſon, was puniſhed for his apoſtacy with death. Robeſpierre embraced the new doctrine till the church was deſpoiled of all the treaſures with which ſuperſtition had en⯑riched it, and ſoon after aboliſhed the decadary feaſts of the goddeſs Reaſon, and ſent her high prieſts Gobet and Chau⯑mette to the guillotine. One of the few inſtances of fortitude in death exemplified by perſons who had neither the conſciouſ⯑neſs of innocence nor the ſentiment of ſympathy to ſooth their minds in ſo ſevere a trial, was that of the former duke of Orleans, in whoſe life nothing was worthy of applauſe except his manner of leaving it. The remembrance of the vote he had given againſt his unfortunate relation Lewis XVI. from motives of perſonal vengeance and ambition, could not but gnaw upon his heart, and depreſs [39] his ſpirit, and muſt have been mingled not only with a feeling of indignation againſt the wretches who made him ſuffer upon falſe pretences, but with all the anguiſh of remorſe for having joined their party; by which act of debaſement he had incurred not only guilt, but its ſpeedy puniſhment. Yet notwithſtanding ſuch reflections could not fail to embitter his laſt moments, he went to execution with a calm dignity worthy of a better mind. Nor did he gratify the populace by be⯑traying any emotion when the cart in which he was placed ſtopped for ten minutes before the gate of the Palais-Royal, the ſcene of a life of luxurious pleaſures. He looked at the building with apparent unconcern; and whatever pangs of recollection might ſtruggle at his heart, his behaviour expreſſed no ſen⯑timent but that of magnanimity till he expired.

The reſignation and courage with [40] which the victims of this cruel tyranny in general reſigned life were truly ad⯑mirable. Many young perſons, after re⯑ceiving their act of accuſation, compoſed verſes written with a pencil at the table where they partook their laſt repaſt with their fellow priſoners. The following, written by a young man of twenty-four years of age, to his miſtreſs, the night be⯑fore his execution, are ſimple and affect⯑ing:

Among the crowds who were led to the guillotine, two perſons only diſplayed [42] ſtrong marks of diſmay and terror. One of theſe perſons was Madame du Barry, the miſtreſs of Lewis XV. She had been induced to leave England, where ſhe paſſed ſome time after the revolution, and return to France, in order to ſecure her property; and ſoon after the 31ſt of May was led from her beautiful pa⯑vilion at Lucienne, to a priſon in Paris, by one of the agents of terroriſm, who, I am ſorry to add, was an Engliſhman. The priſons, to uſe a French mode of ex⯑preſſion, in a ſhort time became the anti⯑chambers of the ſcaffold; and Madame du Barry's mind was impreſſed ſtrongly with a preſage of her fate. Whenever the door of her chamber in the priſon opened, ſhe was ſeized with violent trem⯑bling, and ſometimes with fainting fits. At length the fatal ſummons to the re⯑volutionary tribunal arrived. The chief evidence againſt her was a negro ſlave, whom ſhe had reared from an infant, and [43] to whom ſhe was ſo much attached, that he was generally to be found in her apartments; and one day Lewis XV. ſportively created him governor of Lu⯑cienne, with a penſion of ſix hundred livres a year, which this viper, who ſtung the boſom that cheriſhed him, ſtill enjoys.

One of the moſt flagrant teſtimo⯑nies which were produced of Madame du Barry's counter-revolutionary prin⯑ciples was Mr. Pitt's picture, which ſhe ſaid had been given to her the night before her departure from Lon⯑don by lord Thurlow. This unfortu⯑nate woman was condemned to die; and a perſon of my acquaintance who was at that time a priſoner in the Con⯑ciergerie told me, that ſhe was deluded with the promiſe of pardon provided ſhe would diſcover the ſpot where ſhe ac⯑knowledged that ſome treaſures were concealed; but no ſooner were they found, than ſhe was ordered to execution. During her paſſage thither ſhe appeared [44] almoſt dead, and leaned her head upon the ſhoulder of the executioner. But when ſhe reached the ſquare of the revolution, the ſight of the inſtrument of death rallied her ſinking ſpirits, and called forth the moſt cruel agonies of reluctant nature. She rent the air with her ſhrieks, and was deaf to the expoſtulations of Noil, a deputy of the Gironde who periſhed at the ſame time, and who encouraged her to reſign herſelf to a fate which was in⯑evitable. Her convulſed frame acquired extraordinary ſtrength: ſhe ſtruggled with her executioners, and, after a conflict at which humanity ſhudders, was forced to undergo the fatal ſtroke, and releaſed from frantic deſperation.

With Madame du Barry periſhed the banker Vanderuyver, and his two ſons, ac⯑cuſed of being her accomplices in ſending money into England, and alſo of having aided the knights of the poniard, as they were called, in the chateau of the Thuil⯑leries [45] on the memorable 10th of Auguſt, although twenty-five witneſſes attended to prove that Vanderuyver had not quit⯑ted his houſe during the whole of that day. But thoſe who firſt appeared in his favour being arreſted as they went out of court, the others made their eſcape, and left this unhappy family to their fate.

Their real crime was their great wealth, which it was thought expedient to ſeize. On this account bankers were the objects of particular proſcription; for although the great revolutionary ſinancier Cambon had one day called them all together, and favoured them with an harangue of con⯑ſiderable length upon the value of paper money, and the worthleſſneſs of gold, which he aſſerted every real lover of his country ought to deſpiſe as droſs, and of which he exhorted them to rid themſelves as faſt as poſſible; it was feared that in ſpite of this precious morſel of elo⯑quence, an obſtinate attachment to me⯑tallic [46] coin ſtill lurked in the hearts of the bankers, who were for the moſt part puniſhed for this grovelling predilection with death. Of this number was Laborde, once the banker of the court, and now guilty of a revenue of two millions of livres. This reſpectable old man was dragged to the ſcaffold at ſeventy-ſix years of age, although ſince the firſt epocha of the revolution he had given unqueſ⯑tionable proofs of his attachment to its cauſe, and the magnificence of his dona⯑tions were more than proportionate to his wealth. His firſt patriotic gift was twenty thouſand louis; he had ſent all the fine horſes with which his ſtables were filled to the municipality; he had lodged troops of national guards at his houſe; and above all, he had been the father of the country where his fine ſeat of Meriville was placed. The year before his death I had paſſed ſome very agreeable days at that noble manſion, where ſtrangers properly [47] recommended were received and enter⯑tained with the moſt ſplendid hoſpitality. The pleaſure-grounds had been formed in a flat ſituation unfavourable to beauty. With immenſe labour and expence paſ⯑toral hills aroſe, and jutting rocks hung over cryſtal waters, or were worn into fragments by the fall of laviſh caſcades. A beautiful Grecian temple reared its Corinthian pillars upon a broad green aſ⯑cent, and amidſt the deep receſſes of ſpreading oaks a monument was erected to Captain Cook. Perhaps the decorated ſcenes of Meriville are ſomewhat too richly hung with ornaments; but in creat⯑ing this blooming Eden, which was the work of years, Monſ. Laborde had given employment to the whole country. For a great extent of ſpace round his dwelling no wants were felt which his munificence was not eager to relieve; and when the eye ſaw him, it bleſſed him. Nor was the [48] good he conferred confined to the pre⯑cincts of his own poſſeſſions. The Paris markets were often ſupplied with ſuch articles of living as were moſt wanted, at the very time when its owner was lan⯑guiſhing in priſon. With tears and la⯑mentations his tenants heard of his con⯑finement. Whole villages and munici⯑palities crowded to the bar of the con⯑vention, and claimed the enlargement of their common benefactor, but in vain. The rich ſpoils of his chateau were too tempting to be reſiſted, the ſeizure of his immenſe property was an expedient of finance, and as a preliminary ſtep to its confiſcation he was put to death.

I have mentioned among the multi⯑tudes who periſhed, that Madame du Barry and one other perſon only were remarked for having betrayed ſymp⯑toms of weakneſs and terror in their laſt moments. You will be ſurpriſed to [49] hear that this perſon was general Cuſ⯑tine.

This unfortunate general, although ac⯑cuſtomed to look upon death with intre⯑pidity in the ranks of battle, ſhrunk from it in a form of horror for which he was unprepared. His ſon, an amiable and ac⯑compliſhed young man, who ſuffered a few months after as the accomplice of his father, becauſe he had given proofs of filial affection, behaved with admirable courage. I ſhall tranſcribe a letter which he ſent to his wife on the day of his exe⯑cution^*.

This intereſting young woman had the courage, during the trial of her father-in-law the general, to ſit at his feet at the tribunal, to wipe the damps from his [50] [...] [51] [...] [48] [...] [49] [...] [50] brow, to animate his failing ſpirits, and calm the agitation of his mind by her ſoothing attentions. After ſeeing her huſ⯑band dragged to the ſcaffold, ſhe was thrown into priſon, from which ſhe was one of the laſt perſons releaſed.

Early in the ſpring Madame Elizabeth was brought before the revolutionary tri⯑bunal. The only crime that could be imputed to her was that ſhe was the ſiſter of a king, and had ſhewn that ſteadfaſt fidelity to her brother, which in generous minds, whatever might be their political opinions, would have excited ſentiments of eſteem and admiration. She had taken no part in thoſe fatal ſchemes of crooked policy, which, by ſeeking to ſeize once more that deſpotic power which the will of a mighty nation had torn from its graſp, loſt that limited empire, and that circumſcribed dominion of which it might ſtill have held poſſeſſion. But whatever were the errors of Lewis XVI. or the [51] vices of Marie Antoinette, no blame was by any party imputed to the princeſs Elizabeth. She had neither ſhared in the intrigues or the licentiouſneſs of the court. All that was known of her in proſperity was her virtuous manners, and her chari⯑table diſpoſition; and in adverſity, her un⯑ſhaken friendſhip for her brother, and her piety and reſignation to God. She had ſuf⯑fered not only the moſt ſevere extremes of calamity, but all thoſe indignities, wants, and hardſhips, which could give misfor⯑tune a keener edge; for, during the ty⯑ranny of Robeſpierre, the forms of de⯑cency which had till then been obſerved were altogether diſregarded. She, who had been uſed to the long train of attendants of the moſt ſplendid court of Europe, was compelled to perform the moſt menial offices herſelf; to dreſs her ſcanty meal, and to ſweep the floor of her priſon. In ſuch circumſtances, with no ray of hope to cheer the gloomy towers where ſhe was [52] immured, except that hope which was fixed on a better ſtate of exiſtence—ſhe probably looked upon death as her moſt ſoothing refuge, and therefore met it with tranquillity and firmneſs. I ſhall tranſcribe her examination at the revolutionary tri⯑bunal, not only as a proof of the calmneſs and dignity with which ſhe anſwered the interrogatories of her barbarous judges, but alſo as a ſpecimen of the manner in which the trials at this ſanguinary court were conducted even before the period ar⯑rived when all enquiry, all form was laid aſide.

Here the trial ended, no witneſſes were called, and the priſoner was condemned without farther examina⯑tion.

Madame Elizabeth betrayed ſome emo⯑tion at the ſight of the guillotine; but ſhe [62] recovered herſelf immediately, and waited calmly at the foot of the ſcaffold, till twenty-five perſons who periſhed with her were put to death, her former rank being ſtill ſufficiently remembered to give her a title to pre-eminence in puniſhment.

Sometimes amidſt theſe horrors, the moſt ludicrous violations of the laws of na⯑tions took place; and we might have ſmiled at the abſurdities of our tyrants, if they had been mingled with leſs atro⯑city. The revolutionary committee of Cette, in the department of Herault, with a noble defiance of all ordinary forms and obſervances, thought fit to put in requiſition not only ſome mules belong⯑ing to the conſul of a northern court, and a cart which was his property, but the conſul himſelf to be their driver. The requiſition was ſigned by William Tell, Brutus, Marat, Cato, and Ceſar. Whether the conſul was of opinion, that ſuch great names were not to be trifled [63] with, or whether he thought that driving mules was a ſafer occupation than con⯑tending with tigers, is uncertain; but it is well known that he ſubmitted himſelf with paſſive obedience to this ſans-culotte edict, till the 9th of Thermidor; after which period he ſent to Paris to com⯑plain of the indignity he had ſuffered, and demanded the chaſtizement of Wil⯑liam Tell and his colleagues.

LETTER III.

IT would require the pencil of a maſter to trace in all its dark colouring that picture of calamity and horror which Paris preſented at this period. A deep and ſilent gloom pervaded that city, where heretofore every heart bounded with gaiety, and every eye ſparkled with delight. The citizens in general ſaw with ſtupefied terror thoſe proceſſions of death which daily encumbered the ſtreets, and the feelings of ſympathy and indigna⯑tion were repelled by the ſenſe of that perſonal danger from which no indivi⯑dual was ſecure. Even in his own habi⯑tation, and in the boſom of his family, no man dared to utter a complaint but in anxious whiſpers, leſt a ſervant ſhould over-hear the forbidden expoſtulations [65] of humanity, and denounce him as a coun⯑ter-revolutioniſt. Many perſons wearied of ſpectacles of horror put an end to their exiſtence; and ſome who deſired to die, but ſhrunk from giving themſelves the ſtroke of death, took meaſures to be ſent before the revolutionary tribunal, where they knew aſſaſſins were ever ready. The uſual means employed for this purpoſe was the cry of "Vive le roi!" words which many young women who had loſt their parents or their lovers on the ſcaffold re⯑peated in the phrenſy of deſpair, and found them, as they wiſhed, a paſſport to the tomb. Well might the people of France have exclaimed in the words of our divine poet,

‘Alas poor country, almoſt afraid to know itſelf! It cannot be called our mother, but our grave, where nothing, but who knows nothing, is once ſeen to ſmile; where ſighs and groans and ſhrieks that rend the air are made, not marked; [66] where violent ſorrow ſeems a modern ecſtaſy: the dead man's knell is there ſcarce aſked for whom: and good men's lives expire before the flowers in their caps, dy⯑ing or ere they ſicken.—MACBETH.’

The beginning of the month of Prai⯑rial, a man of the name of Admiral formed the deſign of aſſaſſinating Robeſ⯑pierre and Collot d'Herbois: he failed in the attempt, was ſeized, and ſent to the Conciegerie. A few days after Amée Cecile Renaud, a girl of nineteen years of age, whoſe ſenſibility it appears was ſingularly affected by the ſcenes which were paſſing before her, and whoſe ima⯑gination perhaps was ſomewhat diſordered by thoſe terrible impreſſions, had the courage, while an armed nation bowed before its aſſaſſins, to enter alone and unarmed the monſter's den, and, as it would ſeem, with the intention, at the expence of life, to point out to her countrymen the tyrant under whom they [67] groaned. Cecile Renaud went one morn⯑ing to Robeſpierre's houſe, and enquired if he was at home. She was anſwered in the negative; and being aſked what ſhe wanted, replied that ſhe came to ſee what ſort of thing was a tyrant. Upon this declaration ſhe was inſtantly led to the committee of general ſafety, and went through a long examination. She again declared with the ſame ſimplicity, that ſhe had only gone becauſe ſhe want⯑ed to ſee a tyrant; and upon being ſearched, no offenſive weapon was found upon her, and all that was contained in a little bundle which ſhe held under her arm was a change of linen, with which ſhe ſaid ſhe had provided herſelf, know⯑ing ſhe ſhould want it in priſon. The conduct of this heroic young woman furniſhed the tyrants with an opportunity of murder too favourable to be neglect⯑ed. They inſtantly proclaimed that a vaſt plan of conſpiracy againſt the lives [68] of thoſe renowned patriots Collot d'Herbois and Robeſpierre had been formed by traitors within the priſons, and traitors without.

The father, mother and aunt of Ce⯑cile Renaud were led with herſelf to the Conciergerie, where ſhe was again inter⯑rogated, and threatened that her whole family ſhould periſh with her, if ſhe did not confeſs her intention of aſſaſſinating Robeſpierre. She repeated what ſhe had ſaid at the committee; and added, that they might put her to death if they thought proper, but, if ſhe deſerved to die, it was not for any intention to aſſaſ⯑ſinate, but for her anti-republican ſenti⯑ments. Cecile Renaud, who was very young and handſome, was dreſſed with ſome care, and perhaps coquetry. Her appearance led her ſavage judges to in⯑vent a new ſ ecies of queſtion in order to bring her to confeſſion. By their directions ſhe was ſtripped of her own [69] clothes, and covered with ſqualid and diſ⯑guſting rags, in which condition ſhe was made to appear in the council-chamber and undergo a new interrogatory, where the ſame menaces were repeated, and where ſhe anſwered as ſhe had done be⯑fore; and with great ſpirit rallied her judges upon the abſurdity of trying to ſhake her purpoſe by a mode of puniſh⯑ment ſo contemptible. Notwithſtanding no proof of any intention to aſſaſſinate Robeſpierre could be brought againſt her, ſhe together with her whole family was put to death. Her two brothers, who were fighting the battles of the re⯑public on the frontiers, were ordered to be conducted to Paris, that they might ſhare her fate; but the tyrants were too impatient for blood to wait their arrival, and owing to this circumſtance they eſcaped.

With Cecile Renaud periſhed not only her own family, but ſixty-nine perſons [66] [...] [67] [...] [68] [...] [69] [...] [70] were brought from different parts and different priſons of Paris, who had never ſeen or heard of each other till they met at the Conciergerie, and were together dragged before the tribu⯑nal, and declared guilty of one common conſpiracy. Their trial only laſted a ſuffi⯑cient length of time to call over their names; none of them were permitted to make any defence; the jury declared themſelves ſatisfied in their ſouls and con⯑ſciences; and the devoted victims, covered with the red cloaks worn by aſſaſſins on their way to execution, were led to death. Among thoſe who periſhed on this occa⯑ſion were madame Sainte Amaranthe, her daughter, who had married Monſieur Sartine the ſon of the ex-miniſter, and who was now only in her nineteenth year, and one of the moſt beautiful wo⯑men in France, and her brother, who was but ſeventeen years of age. A friend of mine was confined in the ſame priſon [71] with this family. A ſervant from the outſide of the walls had made madame Sainte Amaranthe underſtand by ſigns that her ſon in law, who had been con⯑fined in another priſon, had periſhed, and that ſhe herſelf was in danger. She went immediately to her daughter, and ſaid to her, "Your huſband is no more, and it is very probable that we ſhall follow him to-morrow to the ſcaffold—No tears—this is no time for ſoftneſs—we muſt pre⯑pare to meet with courage a fate that is inevitable." The next day paſſed, and no ſummons to the Conciergerie arrived; but on the night following at eleven o'clock a huiſſier entered madame Sainte Amaranthe's chamber, and told her ſhe was wanted below. The call was well underſtood. "And are not we too wanted?" cried her ſon and daughter. "Certainly," anſwered the huiſſier. They both flew to their mother, threw their arms round her neck, and exclaim⯑ed, [72] "We ſhall die together!" The next day they periſhed. Fouquier Tainville, the public accuſer, that monſter, "hor⯑ribly trick'd with blood of fathers, mo⯑thers, daughters, ſons, bak'd and impaſted with the parching ſtreets," placed himſelf at a window of the Conciergerie cloſe to the gate through which the priſoners paſſed, in order to aſcend the carts which were to carry them to execution. There he feaſted his atrocious ſoul with the ſight of ſixty-nine victims, covered with aſſaſ⯑ſins' cloaks; and obſerving among them ſome young women, particularly the lovely madame Sartine, walking towards the vehicles of death with that firmneſs which belongs to innocence; "How bold thoſe women look!" cried Fouquier, en⯑raged at their calmneſs; "I muſt go and ſee if they ſhew the ſame effrontery on the ſcaffold, even if I ſhould loſe my dinner!"

Robeſpierre had now attained nearly [73] the ſummit of his hopes; and his igno⯑rance being equal to his vanity, he did not perceive that the few ſteps he had to climb before he could graſp at abſolute dominion, muſt be trodden with cautious prudence; ſince he had advanced ſo far, that, if he was now compelled to deſcend, it could only be by a deſcent which would lead to death. He had deſtroyed his moſt powerful rival Danton; but his ſpies and emiſſaries, and above all his guilty conſcience, told him that more of his colleagues muſt fall to give him per⯑fect ſafety. He read in the countenances of the deputies, in the ſilent gloom with which his edicts were ſanctioned, that new ſtorms gathered over his head; and he prepared, in conjunction with Cou⯑thon, the means of putting the lives of all thoſe who oppoſed him more abſo⯑lutely in his power. In the mean time he thought fit to amuſe the people by a feſtival in honour of the Supreme Being, [74] whoſe exiſtence he had lately proclaimed, and whoſe name he had dared to utter with his unhallowed lips. The plan of the feſtival was arranged by the cele⯑brated painter David; he, whoſe mind the cultivation of the finer arts has had no power to ſoften; who, not ſatisfied with diſplaying on canvaſs thoſe ſcenes of ſanguinary guilt which from the hor⯑rors they excite furniſh fit ſubjects for the pencil, has contributed to give them in his bleeding country "a local habi⯑tation and a name;" who, inſtead of che⯑riſhing that ſacred flame of enlightened liberty which is connected with the ſub⯑limer powers of the imagination, was the lacquey of the tyrant Robeſpierre, and the friend of the man of blood, Marat; who, ambitious of recorded diſgrace, of immortal ignominy, debaſed the nobleſt gift of heaven, genius, and employed his degraded pencil in tracing the hideous features of the monſter Marat, while a [75] groaning people were compelled to bow the knee before the image he had ſet up; and who, at the tribune of the national convention, inſulted all common ſenſe and decency by a compariſon which, from its audacious abſurdity, excites as much ridicule as indignation. "Cato, Ariſtides, Socrates, Timoleon, Fabricius, and Phocion," exclaims the panegyriſt David, "ye whoſe venerable lives I ad⯑mire, I have not lived with you—but I have known Marat!" (bleſſed compen⯑ſation!) "I have admired him like you, and poſterity will do him juſtice!" Yes, David, repoſe with your idol upon the civic crowns, the palms and laurels won by revolutionary meaſures, and doubt not that poſterity will do ample juſtice both to you and Marat. Poſterity will indeed be ſpared the taſk of overthrow⯑ing his altars, ſince they are already in the duſt; and while the offences of many of our vulgar tyrants will be forgotten [76] with their ignoble names, David's ſhame will be as durable as his celebrity.

While I am upon the ſubject of Marat and his friend, I cannot help obſerving, that nothing appears more ſtrange to us in this country than the opinions which are formed in England of the public characters of France, not by the enemies but by the friends of the French revolu⯑tion. That Briſſot, Guadet, Vergniaud ſhould receive no incenſe of applauſe from thoſe who perhaps lament that the king's caſtle of the Baſtille was over⯑thrown, is natural; but when we hear Mr. Sheridan ſpeak in the houſe of com⯑mons of the faction of the Gironde, and when we read in Mr. Gilbert Wakefield's anſwer to Mr. Paine's pamphlet his re⯑mark upon the Briſſotine faction, we are filled with aſtoniſhment. They might with as much propriety talk of the fac⯑tion of Sidney, of Ruſſel, and of Hamp⯑den. Such obſervations are blaſphemies [77] indeed from the lovers of liberty; they who ought to pronounce with veneration the names of thoſe illuſtrious martyrs, who, after the moſt honourable ſtruggles for their country, ſhed their blood upon the ſcaffold in its cauſe, with heroiſm worthy of the proudeſt days of Greece or Rome. But though the iron ſceptre of revolutionary government has re⯑ſtrained the groans, the lamentations, of a mourning nation for the fall of its beſt defenders; and though the ſlaviſh pen of the Moniteur, from which Europe re⯑ceived French intelligence, applauded the aſſaſſins of liberty; though Briſſot, it was aſſerted, had filled his coffers with Engliſh gold, while his widow was lan⯑guiſhing with an infant at her breaſt, with no other nouriſhment than bread and water, in one of the dungeons of Robeſpierre, and at this moment exiſts with three children "ſteeped in poverty to the very lips;" yet with becoming pride [78] diſdaining to ſolicit ſupport, till the me⯑mory of her huſband has received, as it ſhortly will do, ſome mark of public atonement and public honour; hiſtory will do juſtice to his character—hiſtory will judge between Briſſot and Robe⯑ſpierre, between the Gironde and the Mountain. Hiſtory will not confound thoſe ſanguinary and ambitious men who paſſed along the revolutionary horizon like baneful meteors, ſpreading deſtruc⯑tion in their courſe, with thoſe whoſe ta⯑lents formed a radiant conſtellation in the zone of freedom, and diffuſed benignant beams over the hemiſphere till extin⯑guiſhed by ſtorms and darkneſs.

Perhaps it will not be diſpleaſing to you to read the following ſketch of Briſ⯑ſot, traced by Madame Roland, who was intimately acquainted with him, and who was ſo admirable a judge of character.

"Briſſot came to viſit us: I know nothing more pleaſant than the firſt in⯑terview [79] of thoſe who, though connected by correſpondence, have never ſeen each other. We look with earneſtneſs to ſee if the features of the face bear any reſem⯑blance to the phyſiognomy of the ſoul, and if the figure of the perſon confirms the opinion which we have formed of the mind.

"The ſimplicity of Briſſot's manners, his frankneſs, his natural negligence, ſeemed to me in perfect harmony with the auſterity of his principles: but I found in him a ſort of lightneſs of mind and character which was not very conſiſt⯑ent with the ſeriouſneſs of a philoſopher. This diſpoſition always gave me uneaſi⯑neſs, and his enemies always took ad⯑vantage of it. The more I became ac⯑quainted with him, the greater was my eſteem. It is impoſſible for any one to unite a more perfect diſintereſtedneſs to a more ardent zeal for the public ſervice, or feel with ſo perfect a forgetfulneſs of [80] his own intereſt a greater deſire of do⯑ing good. But his writings are more fit⯑ted than his perſon to effect it, becauſe they have all the authority which reaſon, juſtice and knowledge give to literary works, while his figure, from its want of dignity, inſpires no reſpect. He is the beſt of human beings; a good huſband, a tender father, a faithful friend, a vir⯑tuous citizen. His converſation is as mild as his character is eaſy. Confident even to imprudence, gay and ſprightly as a youth of fifteen, he was formed to live with the wiſe, and to be the dupe of the wicked. As a well-informed politician, and ſtudying during his whole life the different relations of ſociety, and the means of procuring the greateſt quantity of happineſs for the human race, he was well acquainted with the nature of man, and altogether ignorant of the characters of men. He knew that vice exiſted, but he never could believe him to be a vi⯑cious [81] man who ſpoke to him with an open countenance; and when he diſco⯑vered ſuch perſons he treated them as fools whom he ought to pity, without taking any precautions againſt them. He could not hate: his mind, though very ſuſceptible, had not ſolidity enough for ſo vigorous a ſentiment. His know⯑ledge was ſo extenſive, that all literary labour was to him extremely eaſy; and he compoſed a treatiſe with the ſame fa⯑cility as another would copy a ſong: an experienced eye therefore will diſcern in his works, together with an excellent fund of information, the haſty touches of a rapid and ſometimes a ſlight mind. His activity, his good humour, never re⯑fuſing to join in any thing which he thought uſeful, have given him the air of meddling in every thing; and have ſub⯑jected him to animadverſions as an in⯑triguer by thoſe who were eager to find fault. A curious kind of intriguer in⯑deed! [82] a man who never thought of him⯑ſelf, or even the intereſt of his friends; who is as incapable as he is averſe to look after his own concerns; who is no more aſhamed of poverty than he is afraid of death, conſidering both as the uſual reward of public virtues.

"I have ſeen him conſecrating the whole of his time to the revolution, without any other motives than wiſhing to ſee the triumph of truth, and concurring in the eſtabliſhment of the public good; working diligently at his Journal, which he might eaſily have made a good object of ſpeculation, but contenting himſelf with the moderate ſhare allowed him by his partner. His wife as modeſt as himſelf, with much prudence and great ſtrength of mind, formed a more ſevere judgment of things. She had, ſince their marriage, continually turned her eyes towards the united ſtates of America, as the place moſt ſuited to their [83] taſte, and their manners, and where it was eaſy to live with a very ſmall income.

"Briſſot had made a voyage thither, and they were on the point of their departure when the revolution fixed him in France. As he was born at Chartres, and was the ſchool-fellow of Pethion, who is a na⯑tive of the ſame city, Briſſot formed a ſtill ſtronger attachment to him in the conſtituent aſſembly, where his know⯑ledge and his labour were of eſſential ſervice to his friend. He brought us acquainted with him, as well as with many other deputies whom former ac⯑quaintance or conformity of opinion and zeal for the public good frequently call⯑ed together to converſe on the ſubject. It was even agreed that they ſhould aſ⯑ſemble four hours a week in the evening at my houſe, becauſe I was always at home, had good apartments, and was ſo conveni⯑ently ſituated that it was not far from any of thoſe who compoſed our little circle."

[84] I cannot reſiſt adding to this ſketch the copy of a letter addreſſed by Briſſot to Barrere, the day after the latter, from the tribune of the convention, had pro⯑miſed to ſatiate the people with Briſſot's blood.

But let us leave the martyrs of liberty, and return to the polluted feſtival inſtitu⯑ted by a tyrant. David, ever ready to fulfil the mandates of his maſter Robeſpierre, ſteps forth, marſhals the proceſſion, and, like the herald in Othello, "orders every man to put himſelf into triumph."

At this ſpot, by David's command, the mothers are to embrace their daugh⯑ters—at that, the fathers are to claſp their ſons—here, the old are to bleſs the young, and there, the young are to kneel to the old—upon this boulevard the people are [87] to ſing—upon that, they muſt dance—at noon they muſt liſten in ſilence, and at ſun-ſet they muſt rend the air with acclamations.

Ah, what was then become of thoſe ci⯑vic feſtivals which hailed the firſt glories of the revolution! What was become of that ſublime federation of an aſſembled nation which had nobly ſhaken off its ignominious fetters, and exulted in its new-born freedom! What was become of thoſe moments when no emotions were pre-ordained, no feelings mea⯑ſured out, no acclamations decreed; but when every boſom beat high with admi⯑ration, when every heart throbbed with enthuſiaſtic tranſport, when every eye melted into tears, and the vault of hea⯑ven reſounded the burſts of unpremedi⯑tated applauſe!

But let us not even now deſpair of the cauſe of liberty. Let us not abandon a fair and noble region filled with objects which excite the thrill of tenderneſs or the [88] glow of admiration, becauſe along the path which France has choſen ſerpents have lurked beneath the buds of roſes, and beaſts of prey have iſſued from the lofty woods: let us diſcover, if we can, a leſs tremendous road, but let us not re⯑nounce the land of promiſe.

The citizens of Paris had been invited, and the invitation amounted to a com⯑mand, to decorate their houſes in honour of the feſtival. Accordingly Paris on that morning, lighted up by brilliant ſun⯑ſhine, preſented the moſt gay and charm⯑ing ſpectacle imaginable. Woods had been robbed of their ſhade, and gar⯑dens to the extent of ſome leagues rifled of their ſweets, in order to adorn the city. The walls of every houſe were covered with luxuriant wreaths of oak and laurel, blended with flowers; civic crowns were interwoven with national ribbands; three-coloured flags waved over every portal; and the whole was arran⯑ged with that light and airy grace which [89] belongs to Pariſian fancy. The women wore garlands of freſh-blown roſes in their hair, and held branches of palm or laurel in their hands: the men placed oaken boughs in their hats, and children ſtrewed the way with violets and myrtle. The repreſentatives of the people had large three-coloured plumes in their hats, national ſcarfs thrown acroſs their ſhoul⯑ders, and noſegays of blended wheat⯑ears, fruits, and flowers in their hands, as ſymbols of their miſſion.

From this profuſion of gay objects, which in happier moments would have excited delightful ſenſations, the droop⯑ing ſoul now turned diſtaſteful. The ſcent of carnage ſeemed mingled with theſe laviſh ſweets; the glowing feſtoons appeared tinged with blood; and in the back ground of this feſtive ſcenery the guillotine aroſe before the diſturbed ima⯑gination. I thought of that paſſage in Mr. Burke's book, "In the groves of [90] their academy, at the end of every viſta I ſee the gallows!" Ah Liberty! beſt friend of mankind, why have ſanguinary monſters profaned thy name, and ful⯑filled this gloomy prediction!—

A great amphitheatre was raiſed in the garden of the Thuilleries immediately before the palace, now the ſeat of the convention. Upon a tribune in the centre of the theatre, Robeſpierre as preſident of the convention appeared; and having for a few hours diſencum⯑bered the ſquare of the revolution of the guillotine, this high-prieſt of Molock, within view of that very ſpot where his daily ſacrifice of human victims was offer⯑ed up, covered with their blood, invoked the Parent of univerſal nature, talked of the charms of virtue, and breathed the hope of immortality. When the foul fiend had finiſhed this impious mockery, he deſcended from the tribune, and walk⯑ed with great ſolemnity towards a gro⯑teſque [91] kind of monument that was raiſ⯑ed upon the baſon in the front of the palace, which had been covered over for that purpoſe. On this monument was placed a miſhapen and hideous figure, with aſs's ears, which for ſome hours ſerved as an enigma to the gazing crowd, who knew not how to account for this ſingular appearance; till Robeſpierre having ſet fire to this image of deformity, which was declared to be the ſymbol of atheiſm, its cumbrous drapery ſuddenly vaniſhed, and a fair and majeſtic form was diſcovered, emblematical of wiſ⯑dom and philoſophy.

Atheiſm being thus happily deſtroyed, the convention, attended by a numerous proceſſion of people, and preceded by triumphal cars and banners, marched to the Champ de Mars, where with much toil and coſt a rocky mountain had been reared, upon whoſe lofty ſummit the ty⯑rant and his attendants climbed, and [92] from whence he once more harangued the people; and the feſtival cloſed with hymns and choral ſongs in honour of the Supreme Being.

Robeſpierre on this day, intoxicated with his power, loſt ſight of his uſual prudence, and diſplayed all the littleneſs of his vanity. He cauſed a line of ſe⯑paration to be made between himſelf and the other deputies of the convention, and marched at ſome diſtance before them, like a captain at the head of his band. He had the folly to diſplay his importance by keeping the convention and the aſſem⯑bled multitude waiting, and the ceremo⯑ny ſuſpended for two hours, while he was ſought for in vain. During the proceſ⯑ſion his creatures attempted to raiſe the cry of "Vive Robeſpierre!" but it was faintly re-echoed by the ſpectators, ma⯑ny of whom followed him with "curſes, not loud but deep, which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not."

[93] Two days after this feſtival in honour of the Supreme Being, Robeſpierre, the ſcourge of his creatures, compelled the enſlaved convention to paſs a law, which permitted the revolutionary jury to con⯑demn thoſe who were brought before them, from their own internal conviction, without any proof whatever, or hearing any witneſſes; and which alſo ſuppreſſed the ſuperfluous office of official defender, or counſel; a privilege that Couthon, who made the report in the name of the com⯑mittee of public ſafety, aſſerted conſpira⯑tors by no means deſerved^*. In other words, the jury were now authoriſed to paſs ſentence without even the forms of a trial. From this period, till the fall [94] of Robeſpierre, all the judicial ſolemni⯑ties of the revolutionary tribunal con⯑ſiſted in reading over the names of the accuſed, who were immediately after de⯑clared by the jury to be guilty of a con⯑ſpiracy againſt the ſafety of the French people, and the indiviſibility of the French republic.

If any of the unhappy perſons thus proſcribed attempted to ſpeak in their defence, they were thus ſilenced by the preſident: "Tu n'a pas la parole^*;" and if they perſiſted in declaring their innocence, they were put what was called "hors de debats;" that is, ordered im⯑mediately out of the court, condemned in their abſence, and ſent to execution. "I was not in priſon when this con⯑ſpiracy took place," cried the viſcounteſs de Noailles, madame de la Fayette's ſiſter. "But you would have been in the con⯑ſpiracy if you had been there," anſwered [95] the preſident; and this unfortunate lady, the mother of three children, periſhed with her own mother and grandmother. Madame de la Fayette being in another priſon was, in the hurry of forming the liſts of death, forgotten when her family ſuffered—and ſtill lives. From this pe⯑riod the priſons became the ſcenes of un⯑exampled horror and deſpair. Till now, the crowds by which they were inha⯑bited had ſubmitted to their fate with that cheerful reſignation, and often with that careleſs gaiety which is buoyant at a Frenchman's heart in circumſtances that would altogether overwhelm the ſinking ſpirits of the people of other countries. The houſes allotted for the priſons of the ſuſpected perſons were for the moſt part hotels of emigrants, which were placed in the moſt agreeable ſituations of Paris, with extenſive gardens, and commanding beautiful views of the country. Such habitations had nothing [96] of that gloom and darkneſs which we uſually aſſociate with the idea of a priſon, and they were peopled with the beſt ſo⯑ciety of Paris.

The ladies were attentive to the duties of the toilette, the gentlemen were polite and aſſiduous, and the court-yard of the Luxembourg, the con⯑vent of St. Lazare, and ſome other pri⯑ſons, exhibited of an evening almoſt as much brilliancy and gaiety as the Thuil⯑leries or the Champs Eliſées. Muſic and literature had their amateurs. At the Luxembourg, ſelect circles were formed to hear lectures from men of letters, ſometimes on chemiſtry, ſometimes on aſtronomy. At St. Lazare, ladies ſent invitations to dinner from the corridor of Frimaire to the corridor of Floreal, with the ſame formalities as formerly from their reſpective hotels. Sometimes cards, ſometimes bout-rimés, charades, and epigrams beguiled the evening of its [97] length, and thus the days of captivity rolled on^*. They were indeed em⯑bittered by one hour of mournful melan⯑choly, and one of trembling terror: the firſt when the evening paper arrived, and the liſt of the victims of the revo⯑lutionary tribunal was read over, among whom the priſoners ſeldom failed to find ſome friend or acquaintance to lament. But this was a ſenſation of gentle ſadneſs, compared to that turbulent diſmay ex⯑cited by the hoarſe voice of the turnkey ſounding at midnight through the long galleries the knell of ſome devoted vic⯑tim, who was called upon to riſe, in [98] order to be led to the Conciergerie by gendarmes ſent for that purpoſe from the revolutionary tribunal. Still, how⯑ever, amidſt the tears which the priſoners ſhed over their loſt companions, many of them cheriſhed the fond hope that they themſelves ſhould eſcape. But the law of the 22d of Prairial tore away every illuſion of the imagination or the heart, and diſplayed the general proſcription of the priſoners in all its extent of horror. It was no longer a ſolitary individual who was called to death; multitudes were ſummoned at once. Every returning night, long covered carts drawn by four horſes entered ſucceſſively the court⯑yards of the different priſons. Whenever the trampling of the horſes' feet was heard, the priſoners prepared themſelves for their doom. The names of the vic⯑tims marked for execution the following day were called over, and they were in⯑ſtantly hurried into theſe gloomy hearſes. [99] The huſband was ſcarcely allowed time to bid his wife a laſt farewell, or the mo⯑ther to recommend her orphan children to the compaſſion of ſuch of the priſoners as might ſurvive the general calamity. At the priſon of the Luxembourg, an hundred and ſixty-nine victims were in one night torn from their beds, and led to the grated dungeons of the Conciergerie, that priſon over the gates of which might with equal propriety have been written, the ſame as over that of the infernal region of Dante, "^*Laſciate ſperanza voi ch'en⯑trate;" for here it might literally be ſaid, "hope never came, that comes to all." I have ſeen the Conciergerie, that abode of horror, that anti-chamber of the tomb. I have ſeen thoſe infectious cells, where the priſoners breathed contagion, where the walls are in ſome places ſtained with the blood of the maſſacres of September, and where a part of the ſpacious court⯑yard, [100] round which the grated dungeons are built, remains unpaved ſince that pe⯑riod, when the ſtones were taken up for the purpoſe of burying the dead. I have ſeen the chamber, where the perſons condemned by the revolutionary tribunal ſubmitted to the preparatory offices of the executioner; where his ſciſſars cut off the laviſh treſſes of the youthful beauty, and where he tied her tender hands behind her waiſt with cords. Merciful Heaven! and among thoſe who have thus ſuffered were perſons to whom my heart was bound by the ties of friendſhip and af⯑fection.—But though I have ſurvived ſuch ſcenes, they have left upon my heart that ſettled melancholy which never can be diſſipated.—For me, the world has loſt its illuſive colouring; its fairy ſpells, its light enchantments have vaniſhed; and death, the idea moſt familiar to my ima⯑gination, appears to my wearied ſpirit the only point of reſt.

The uſual pretext for thoſe murders [101] in maſs, which were practiſed at this pe⯑riod, was that of a conſpiracy in the pri⯑ſons; a vague and wide term which the tyrants might interpret at their pleaſure, and which gave them the power of in⯑cluding whatever perſons and whatever numbers they thought proper. Spies were placed in every priſon, who, after making out their liſts of proſcription as they were directed by the tyrants, declared that a conſpiracy exiſted, of which thoſe marked on the liſts were the authors, or accom⯑plices. Perſons who had never ſeen or heard of each other till that moment, were often brought together from different pri⯑ſons to take their trial for the ſame con⯑ſpiracy: and when the decemvirs wiſhed to get rid of any particular individual, he was without any heſitation added to what was called the fournée, the batch; for ſuch was the appellation given to the crowds dragged together to the guillotine, and with ſuch terms of jocular familiarity was [102] mourning humanity inſulted. Sometimes the perſons accuſed only received their act of accuſation as they were led up to the tribunal. Sometimes in the hurry, confuſion, and careleſſneſs with which theſe indictments were made out, one perſon was miſtaken for another. The ducheſs of Biron, among other inſtances, went to the tribunal with an act of accu⯑ſation which was deſtined for her ſteward. The indifference of the tribunal with re⯑ſpect to ſuch errors, enabled monſ. Loi⯑ſerolles, at ſixty years of age, to deceive his barbarous judges, by dying for his ſon, a youth in his twenty-firſt year. It was obſerved, that this generous parent, who thus a ſecond time gave life to his child, anſwered with uncommon alacrity when his name was called upon, and went with a look of exultation to the ſcaffold. Perhaps hiſtory does not offer a more af⯑fecting inſtance of parental tenderneſs, making the voluntary ſacrifice of life to [103] ſave the object of its affection. But this extraordinary epocha called forth the lights and ſhades of the human character in all their ſtrongeſt colouring. The laſt exceſſes of ferocious crimes were con⯑traſted by the ſublime enthuſiaſm of the virtuous affections, ſhedding their ſweet⯑neſs like ſolitary flowers over the wilder⯑neſs where ſerpents hiſs, and beaſts of the foreſt howl; and by the nobleſt efforts of heroical philanthropy bidding us ceaſe to deſpair of humanity, and converting the throb of indignant horror into the glow of ſympathetic admiration;—bid⯑ding us turn from the tribunal of blood, from Robeſpierre and his jury of aſſaſſins, to Loiſerolles dying for his child; to madame Berenger, led in the bloom of life to execution with her parents, and, al⯑together forgetful of herſelf, ſeeking only to ſupport the ſinking ſpirits of her mo⯑ther;—to madame Bouſquet, the ſiſter-in-law of Guadet, ſcorning the impious [104] laws which puniſhed humanity with death, affording ſhelter to her proſcribed friends, and dying with them on the ſcaf⯑fold for having done ſo.

Among the multitudes who periſhed at this period, all were not armed with the ſame fortitude; and ſometimes even when tyranny ſpared the life of its vic⯑tim, its cruel perſecutions bereaved the ſufferer of reaſon. Of this mademoiſelle—was a melancholy inſtance. This unfortunate young lady ſaw her father, her mother, and ſeveral of her relations dragged to the ſcaffold: ſhe alone was ſpared, and remained a priſoner at the Conciergerie. Along the gloomy vaults of that terrific priſon, by the dim light of ſickly lamps, ſhe fancied ſhe ſaw the mangled ſpectres of her murdered pa⯑rents, and in a ſhort time became entirely bereft of reaſon. She obſtinately refuſed all ſuſtenance, and remained motionleſs as a ſtatue, holding to her boſom her parrot, [105] whom ſhe had inſiſted on bringing with her to her dungeon. When conjured by the other priſoners to take ſome nouriſh⯑ment, ſhe only anſwered, "^*Je n'ai beſoin de rien." "But your parrot," ſaid they, "your poor parrot is hungry." "Non," ſhe conſtantly replied, "non, il n'a be⯑ſoin de rien—Mon paroquet eſt comme moi—il n'a beſoin de rien." The tyrant has fallen, and the dungeon of this un⯑fortunate young lady is thrown open—but alas! for her, redreſs and freedom have come too late—her reaſon is gone for ever!

The Poliſh princeſs Lubomirſka uni⯑ted with ſuperior talents all the charms of early youth and diſtinguiſhed beauty. She had been travelling through different countries of Europe; and two years ſince was compelled to leave Berne in Switzer⯑land, on account of the attachment ſhe [106] had avowed to the cauſe of the French revolution. She came with her huſband to Paris, and cultivated the ſociety and friendſhip of Vergniaud and of other de⯑puties of the convention, who were the moſt eminent for their talents and their zeal for liberty. This democratic princeſs, to whom a true republican would have offered a civic crown, became an object of reſentment to the vindictive Robeſpierre, on account of her friendſhip for ſome members of the Gironde: ſhe was thrown into priſon, from thence ſent to the re⯑volutionary tribunal, and condemned by the jury of aſſaſſins to die. Being in a ſtate of pregnancy, her execution was de⯑ferred. In the mean time her friends gave information of her danger to Koſciuſko, the Poliſh general, and deſired his inter⯑poſition in her behalf. Koſciuſko inſtant⯑ly diſpatched a letter to Robeſpierre, de⯑claring that the princeſs Lubomirſka had ever ſhewn the moſt devoted attachment [107] to the principles of liberty, and conjuring Robeſpierre to ſpare the life of a zealous friend to the common cauſe in which France and Poland were engaged. Ro⯑beſpierre, after reading the letter, ex⯑claimed, "^*Quoi! grace pour une prin⯑ceſſe!—Ah, Koſciuſko!—qu'on la guil⯑lotine." The unhappy princeſs, having miſcarried, was immediately ſent to exe⯑cution.—Two days before the fall of Robeſpierre, eight women who had been reſpited having declared themſelves preg⯑nant, were dragged to the ſcaffold. Among this number was the princeſs of Monaco. As ſhe paſſed along the court of the pri⯑ſon, ſhe ſaid to the priſoners who were aſſembled to ſee the ſad proceſſion, and bid a laſt farewell to the companions of their misfortunes, "I go to death with the calm⯑neſs which innocence inſpires, and wiſh you from my ſoul a better fate." Then ad⯑dreſſing [108] herſelf to one of the turnkeys who was leading her towards the cham⯑ber where the executioner waited to bind the victims, "I have one favour to aſk you," ſaid ſhe, taking a pacquet from her boſom, "will you promiſe to grant it? This pacquet contains my hair: I im⯑plore your compaſſion, I conjure you in my own name, in the name of all who hear me, ſend it to my ſon, to whom it is directed; ſwear to me in the preſence of thoſe virtuous perſons, whom the ſame deſtiny as mine awaits, that you will render me this laſt ſervice which I re⯑quire of humanity." The diſmay and ter⯑ror of one of her women who was involved in the proſcription, formed a ſtriking contraſt to the firmneſs ſhe herſelf diſ⯑played. "Take courage, my dear friend," cried the princeſs, "take courage, it is the guilty only who ought to fear."—The priſon of Port Libre offered an af⯑fecting ſpectacle of filial piety. Madame [109] Lachabeauſſiere, in conſequence of a ma⯑lignant denunciation made againſt her by her ſon-in-law, was not only dragged to priſon, but placed in a dungeon in cloſe confinement till the moment arrived when ſhe was to appear before the tribunal. Her daughter, madame Maleſſi, who was already confined in another priſon, pro⯑cured leave to be transferred to that where her mother was immured, whom by tears and ſupplications ſhe obtained permiſſion to ſee. Madame Lachabeauſ⯑ſiere was taken out of her dungeon, and led to her daughter, who flew towards her, and, throwing her arms round her neck, remained a long time preſſing her mother to her boſom, and without power to articulate a word. After this melan⯑choly interview, madame Lachabeauſſiere was led back to her dungeon. Her ſitu⯑ation affected her daughter ſo deeply that ſhe became bereft of her reaſon. Some⯑times ſhe took up her needle-work for a [110] few moments; then throwing it aſide, roſe with precipitation, and flew along the galleries of the priſon till ſhe reached her mother's cell. She uſually ſeated herſelf at the door, and liſtened attentively: when ſhe could hear nothing, ſhe uſed to weep bitterly, and repeat again and again in a tone of deſpair, "Oh, my mother! Oh, my tender, my unfortunate mother!" She often remained many hours together, ſeat⯑ed upon the ſtone-floor, and ſhe was in a ſtate of pregnancy. Her hair hung diſhe⯑velled over her ſhoulders, her eye ſeemed bent on vacancy, her cheeks were ſome⯑times fluſhed with deep red, and ſome⯑times of a deadly paleneſs, and ſhe was often ſeized with convulſive faintings. Every day ſhe carried the greateſt por⯑tion of her food to her mother, who without this ſuccour would have often wanted ſufficient nouriſhment for her ſup⯑port. It is ſoothing to add, that madame Lachabeauſſiere was ſnatched from death [111] by the fall of the tyrant, and that her tender and virtuous daughter is reſtored to reaſon.

While the tyrants, far from finding any ſatiety of blood in their daily murders, were erecting new ranges of ſeats in the hall of the revolutionary tribunal, ſuffi⯑cient to contain an hundred inſtead of fifty accuſed perſons, death now hovered in a new form over the priſons. The adminiſtrators of the police went to each priſon attended by a ſtrong guard, and ordered the priſoners to be ſhut up in their reſpective chambers, and not ſuf⯑fered to have any communication till the purpoſe of the viſit was effected. They then went ſucceſſively to every apart⯑ment, and demanded of the priſoners their knives, ſciſſars, razors, buckles, watches, and all the money they had in their poſſeſſion. Theſe unhappy perſons, being altogether ignorant of the object of the viſit, had no time to conceal any thing, [112] and were ſtripped of all they had except fifty livres in paper, which each priſoner was ſuffered to retain in order to pay for his ſubſiſtance. But from this day fa⯑mine ſcowled along theſe gloomy man⯑ſions, adding to the pangs of mental ſuf⯑ferings thoſe of debility and diſeaſe. The priſoners were no longer permitted to receive their daily meals from their own houſes, or from a tavern; but were ordered from henceforth, in conformity to the laws of equality, to eat à la ga⯑melle^*. Their food was provided for them at the rate of fifty ſous a day, by a cook placed in the priſon. Their nou⯑riſhment conſiſted of one meal in twenty-four hours, often too ſcanty to ſatisfy the calls of hunger, and ſometimes com⯑poſed of ſuch nauſeous diet as the great⯑er part of the priſoners were unable to eat.

[113] Age and infirmity were denied every indulgence neceſſary to ſupport the diſ⯑ordered frame, or raiſe the ſinking ſpirits. A little bread ſaved from this wretched meal, and water, was all that could be ob⯑tained during the reſt of the day^*. To this meal the priſoners at the Luxem⯑bourg, where nine hundred perſons were confined, were ſummoned in a ſucceſſion of three hundred at a time, by a great bell, which called them to a hall, at the door of which ſtood the jailor, who had been an executioner under Collot d'Her⯑bois [114] at Lyons^*. This man was re⯑markably tall, big, and muſcular; his arms were bare to the elbow; he wore a fierce red cap, which had now become the ſymbol of blood, and looked as if he were prepared for a maſſacre. He only ſuffered twenty perſons at a time to enter the hall, and then flinging the door in the faces of the others, obliged them to remain in the paſſages till thoſe within were ſeated at the table. The hour of dinner paſſed like the other hours of the day, in gloomy and unbroken ſilence; for even the ſoothing intercourſe of converſation was now forbidden, under the penalty of be⯑ing dragged immediately before the tri⯑bunal, ſince the ſpies placed in the pri⯑ſons, whenever they obſerved two or [115] three perſons talking together, inquired ſternly if they were forming a conſpiracy. What moſt occupied the minds of the pri⯑ſoners at this period was contriving the means of eſcaping from their tyrants by a voluntary death, which was now be⯑come difficult, ſince they had ben ſtrip⯑ped of every inſtrument which could have ſerved that purpoſe. Such was the ſitua⯑tion of theſe unhappy victims of tyran⯑ny, when on the night of the 9th of Thermidor the tocſin ſounded, and the city was called to arms. Many circum⯑ſtances which I ſhall afterwards relate, led the priſoners to believe that theſe ſounds were the ſignal of a general maſ⯑ſacre. But the tocſin now rung the joy⯑ful, the triumphant peal of liberty. Be⯑fore I give you a detail of the ſcenes which paſſed on the 9th of Thermidor, I muſt trace the political events which led to that memorable epocha, and reſcued France from a ſtate which was the aſ⯑toniſhment [116] and ſhame of human nature; from a ſtate more terrible than all which the moſt cunning tyrant could have in⯑flicted upon ſlaves whom he had previ⯑ouſly diſarmed. And all this was ſuf⯑fered by a nation which called itſelf free, which had taken up arms to aſſert its freedom, and gained the moſt glorious victories in its defence. France, covered with all the laurels of heroic valour, and the terror of combined Europe, held out her neck to vulgar aſſaſſins and execu⯑tioners, inſtead of crumbling them into duſt.—Such are the ſtrange contradic⯑tions of human nature! The effects re⯑ſulting from the terrible impulſe of re⯑volutionary government upon the moral world, may perhaps be compared to thoſe produced upon the natural ſcene by the tremendous tempeſts which ſome⯑times ſweep along the weſtern iſlands; when the mingled elements ruſh forth in irreſiſtible fury, when the deluging wa⯑ters [117] bear away vegetation, trees, and rocks, and the ſhrieking whirlwinds ſhake the dwellings of man to their foundations.—The ſtorm is paſt—the enormous vapours have rolled away—a ſoft light hovers on the horizon, and we are now left at leiſure to ſigh over the ruins that ſurround us, and lament the victims laid proſtrate by the blaſt. But let us hope that this ſtormy revolu⯑tion will at leaſt produce ſome portion of felicity to ſucceeding generations, who have not, like us, felt the tumultuous horrors of this convulſion of the paſſions, who will owe their happineſs to the ſtruggles of a race that is paſſed away, and whom they have never known; while we, who have been ſpectators of the cruel conflict—we, who have loſt the friends we loved and honoured, are often unable, amidſt the tears we ſhed over their tombs, to conſider "all partial evil as univerſal good."

LETTER V.

THE ſurrender of Lyons, which took place ſome days previous to the murder of the deputies of the Gironde, contri⯑buted to haſten the execution of that atrocious deed. The Lyonnais had long ſtruggled againſt the commiſſaries of the mountain faction, who, under the pre⯑tence of an ardent zeal for liberty, were diligent in ſeeking opportunities for riot and plunder; and however ſtrongly this detachment of conſpirators were ſupport⯑ed by thoſe who directed their motions from Paris, they could not withſtand the indignation and vengeance of the citizens of Lyons, who, rouſed by the dangers with which they were threatened, cruſhed their oppreſſors, the chief of whom, Cha⯑lier, they ſent to the ſcaffold. The Lyonnais [151] had proceeded too far to hope for any mercy from the faction, who had now accompliſhed their treaſon at Paris: and ſeeing the cauſe of liberty abandoned by the departments, who had made their peace with the traitors, they were driven either to ſuffer patiently the weight of their wrath, or prepare to oppoſe it. Of this dreadful alternative they choſe the latter; but finding themſelves unſupport⯑ed in the project they had at firſt formed of marching to Paris, they determined to defend their own city. In the mean time they employed the moſt honourable means to explain to the convention, that their reſiſtance aroſe neither from diſaffection to the republic, nor from any wiſh to form a federal government, of which they had been accuſed; that they had ſworn fidelity to the republican conſtitu⯑tion, and had iſſued orders to aſſem⯑ble the primary aſſemblies for its ac⯑ceptance. But reſiſtance for any cauſe [152] was now a crime, and this conceſſion of the Lyonnais only ſerved to increaſe the inſolence of their oppreſſors, who decreed that the city was in a ſtate of rebellion, and that all who had reſorted thither from the neighbouring departments ſhould be treated as emigrants: for the conſpirators eaſily perceived that this city might form a central point of oppoſition, by col⯑lecting together all thoſe perſons in the ſouthern provinces who were averſe to the revolutionary order of things. An army was immediately levied, and ordered to march againſt Lyons; and it was be⯑lieved that when the Lyonnais were in⯑formed that the affair was about to be⯑come ſo ſerious, they would make no far⯑ther oppoſition.

The general who commanded the con⯑ventional army, endeavoured by proclama⯑tions to concilia [...] the parties, but in vain. His propoſals of pardon were rejected by thoſe who thought themſelves injured, [153] and who knew by fatal experience what degree of confidence was to be placed in the offer of tender mercies from the cruel. The Lyonnais were allowed three hours to deliberate on the gracious propoſitions of the general, but a diſcharge of cannon returned their anſwer before the firſt had expired; and though new proclamations were iſſued, and on the anniverſary of the 10th of Auguſt both parties ſent deputa⯑tions to celebrate that event together, the Lyonnais continued their warlike oppo⯑ſition, and prepared to make an obſtinate reſiſtance.

In the mean time the department of Mont-Blanc, formerly Savoy, was reco⯑vered by the Piedmonteſe, who took ad⯑vantage of the abſence of the army which had been called off for the purpoſe of reducing Lyons; and the repreſentatives who conducted the operations of the ſiege wrote to the convention to repeal the de⯑cree which the conſpirators in their wrath [154] had poured out againſt that city. The Lyonnais were as deaf to theſe conceſſions as they had been to the proclamations of the generals, who now proceeded to ex⯑tremities, and began the bombardment of the city, which was ſet on fire in ſe⯑veral places, and a great number of the inhabitants periſhed. Other proclama⯑tions followed this act of hoſtility, which met with the ſame reception. The black flag continued floating on the towers, in⯑dicating reſiſtance till death; and though the city, being unfortified, had nothing to defend it but the bravery of its inhabi⯑tants, no impreſſion could be made ex⯑cept by bombardment. The conſpirators therefore ſent their emiſſaries into the ad⯑joining departments to raiſe the people in maſs; and, if any credit is to be given to the reports of thoſe who were employed, the beſieging army was re-inforced by other armies amounting to fifty thouſand men. With this re-inforcement the attack be⯑gan [155] afreſh, the city was ſurrounded, all communication cut off, and the conven⯑tion was informed that famine would ſoon effect what the obſtinacy of the Lyonnais had hitherto prevented. Du⯑ring three months theſe brave republi⯑cans contended againſt the numerous ar⯑mies that the conſpirators had aſſembled; and had not their ardour been checked by their commanders, they would all have witneſſed againſt the cowardice and baſe⯑neſs of their countrymen, by whom they were left unſupported, with the laſt drop of their blood. After having performed prodigies of valour, till they were over⯑powered by numbers, and reſiſtance be⯑came no longer poſſible, they endeavour⯑ed to effect their retreat, by forcing their way through the beſiegers; for accord⯑ing to the diſpatches ſent to the conven⯑tion they were entirely ſurrounded. In this retreat ſome ſucceeded; but a great part were cut to pieces, and the con⯑ventional [156] army entered the city in tri⯑umph.

With the ſavage joy of the famiſhed cannibal, when he ſeizes on ſome ſhip⯑wrecked wretch whom the waves have unkindly ſpared from the fate of his com⯑panions, the mountain conſpirators heard of the reduction of Lyons. The com⯑mittee of public ſafety, through the organ of Barrere, in congratulating the conven⯑tion on the news, informed them that meaſures were taken to exterminate every fugitive; that no weakneſs, no mercy ſhould be ſhewn; and that this den of conſpirators muſt make ample reparation, and that this reparation muſt conſiſt in burying this rebel city under its own ruins. And leſt this moment of wrath ſhould be tranſient, leſt the indignation which had filled their capacious ſouls ſhould evaporate, theſe guardians of the public weal methodized their vengeance by a decree, which the convention ſanc⯑tioned, [157] that Lyons ſhould be razed to the ground, and ſtruck out of the cities of the republic. This "great and vigor⯑ous meaſure, the total deſtruction of the city, was the only one that had eſcaped us," the deputies in miſſion at this devoted place echo to their colleagues of the com⯑mittee. They had already created mili⯑tary tribunals to judge the inhabitants; but complete extermination had not been within the reach of their comprehenſion: and leſt this example of vengeance ſhould be loſt to the world by ſome miſplaced heſitation, by ſome ſentiment of weak hu⯑manity, the committee diſpatched one of its own members to direct and ſuperin⯑tend the execution.

What had hitherto paſſed was ſcarcely the beginning of horrors. Collot d'Her⯑bois, a comedian, who had been driven from the ſtage for his profeſſional inca⯑pacity, but who had acted a conſiderable part in the conſpiracy, was gone thither [158] to give tragedy ſome original ſtrokes. "Alas," ſays the eloquent reporter on the correſpondence of Robeſpierre and the extent of his enormities, "the terrible in⯑ſtrument of death, erected only for the puniſhment of crimes, ſprings up like poiſonous plants over every part of the republic. It becomes naturaliſed under the oppoſite ſkies of the north and the ſouth: the frozen bear and the devour⯑ing dog-ſtar alike mourn over its fatal ſucceſſes.

"O! come; let us penetrate together, my fellow-citizens, acroſs thoſe fiery tor⯑rents, under thoſe ruined walls which ſeem crumbling down to threaten us with ruin; let us paſs into thoſe cities hereto⯑fore filled with people, now widowed of their inhabitants; into thoſe new deſerts more frightful than thoſe of Paran or Horeb. See them, like the hyena growl⯑ing fiercely over its prey!—Do you not perceive them like deſtroying demons [159] ruſhing with their devouring torches over every monument of genius or of art? Theſe new Gengis, who have conquered neither Perſia, nor Egypt, nor Lybia, are anxious to make Frenchmen of the 18th century a race of barbarians, reduced not to the practice, but to the ſimple reading of the rights of man, as the Saracens were here⯑tofore inſtructed in the knowledge of the Koran.

"Look for a moment with us, on theſe vile dilapidations of the treaſures of Pto⯑lemy Philadelphus; obſerve thoſe evil principles, thoſe Arimanes, who have been diſputing with each other for twelve months paſt the palpitating limbs of our diſmembered country! What were they, and what are they now, thoſe founders of committees of demolition, thoſe creators of ruins?—Vile ſlaves, trembling in the preſence of the mighty.

"It is the conſpiracy of folly and of crimes united againſt genius and virtue. [160] It is the inſurrection of robbery againſt the precept of mine and thine. It is the reign of private vengeance and the moſt abject paſſions.

"O Lyons! city celebrated for thy commerce, who is this new Gengis^*, who, with the axe and the thunder in his hand, pours down on thy walls, and ruſhes on to avenge the injuries of Themugin? It is finiſhed, and thy ruin is ſworn!"

It is unneceſſary to aſk of the unfortunate inhabitants, as I have ſometimes done, the hiſtory of their woes—their tyrants blazon themſelves their crimes to the open day, and invite you to read the black cata⯑logue of their enormities. "In deſtroy⯑ing a rebel city," ſays Collot, "we ſhall [161] conſolidate the reſt. We muſt leave no⯑thing but aſhes. We demoliſh with can⯑non balls, and with exploſions like thoſe of mines." When ſuch were his principles, his projects, and his exploits, it would be trifling to ſtop to talk of individual diſtreſſes—to relate how he ordered three ladies, who had thrown themſelves at his feet to implore his mercy, to be tied for ſix hours to the ſcaffold where their huſ⯑bands were to be executed; or to ſpeak of the execution of a young heroine, who had ſhewn prodigies of valour during the ſiege. Theſe were only interludes in this great tragedy, one of whoſe languiſh⯑ing actors in his exiſting correſpondence writes, that ſince the guillotine has been at work, his health has been eſtabliſhed; that every thing goes well, and is ex⯑pected to go better; "ſince it is found," continues he, "that the guillotine is not ſufficiently expeditious, and in a few days three or four hundred will be diſpatched [162] at a time; and the houſes are faſt demo⯑liſhing."

This was no empty menace—the tra⯑gedian executed what this ſavage had promiſed.—"The guillotine and fuſillade do not go amiſs," ſays he; "ſixty, eighty, two hundred at once are ſhot, and every day care is taken to arreſt a ſufficient number, ſo as not to leave the priſons empty." But ſtill theſe were ordinary means. This new Salmoneus was not contented with the inſignia of the god, he panted to imitate his deſtroying power; and accordingly ſome of the miſerable inhabitants were placed before batteries of cannon; and while they were ſhattered and torn in pieces by the artillery, though the greater part were left to be diſpatched the following day by the ſpades of thoſe who came to bury them, Collot amuſed him⯑ſelf in beholding the operation.

During this waſte of life, that of the property of the unfortunate victims was [163] not more reſpected. "It coſts four hun⯑dred thouſand livres each decade for de⯑molitions," writes one of theſe demons, who talks of re-colonizing the country. "More heads every day, more heads are falling. What ecſtacies thou wouldſt have felt," adds the monſter to his correſpond⯑ent, "if thou hadſt ſeen this national juſ⯑tice executed on two hundred and nine raſcals! What cement for the republic! We have knocked off five hundred; and when we have diſpatched twice as many, which we ſhall do, things will go for⯑ward."

Where then, it might be aſked, was the convention, while theſe horrors were exe⯑cuting? Where? Alas! this convention, ſent by a free people to conſolidate their liberty, was in chains. Had it been leſs enſlaved, the decree, that Lyons ſhould no longer exiſt, would have juſtified the executioners.—Collot was not willing that this decree of devaſtation ſhould remain [164] a figure of rhetoric—he ſays ſo: "The revolutionary army arrives the day after to-morrow, and then," continues he, "I ſhall be able to perform great things. Theſe conſpirators muſt ſoon be diſpatch⯑ed—Lyons muſt exiſt no longer—and the inſcription thou haſt propoſed," for this letter is addreſſed to Robeſpierre, "con⯑tains a great truth, for hitherto the de⯑cree has been but an hypotheſis. It will be your buſineſs to make it what it ought to be, and we will prepare the amend⯑ments before hand."

This was the private correſpondence of the monſter with Robeſpierre. But let us not conceal his language to the conven⯑tion itſelf. "We are hardened," ſays he, "againſt the tears of repentance—Indul⯑gence is a dangerous weakneſs—The de⯑molitions are too ſlow—We muſt employ means more adapted to republican impa⯑tience. The exploſion of the mine, the devouring activity of the flame alone can [165] expreſs the omnipotence of the people: its will cannot be impeded like that of tyrants; it ought to have the effect of thunder." And what anſwer does the con⯑vention return to its colleague?—The wretch for a whole year after retained a ſeat in the aſſembly.—It was the plan of Collot to baniſh thoſe whom he did not deſtroy; for he found it difficult to carry his purpoſe into full execution; and after having murdered a part, and exiled the reſt, he diſcovered that he had fulfilled his commiſſion, and ſhould be able on his return to ſay with truth, that Lyons ex⯑iſted no longer.

"What ideas! what fury!" exclaims the reporter: "it ſeems as if the moral world was fallen back into chaos. And theſe are legiſlators! Alas! if the Erebus of the antients had had its legiſlation alſo, it would undoubtedly have been more conſiſtent and more humane."

We are at firſt tempted to believe, in [166] paſſing in review theſe ferocious charac⯑ters, that all the monſters of the deſert had quitted their dens to ruſh in on our cities; or rather, to adopt more natural ideas, we cannot help diſcovering the end of theſe horrible levellers, which was the de⯑ſtruction of commerce, and the eſtabliſh⯑ment not of an equality of happineſs, but of an equality of miſery, throughout the republic.

It will ſcarcely be thought poſſible, yet it is very generally believed, that Col⯑lot was led to this vengeance on the peo⯑ple of Lyons for having hiſſed him when he acted on their ſtage. Thouſands of victims have atoned for the inſult offered to a wretched comedian; and this great city, which from the time of Auguſtus had been the centre of the commerce of Gaul, where he laviſhed his favours, and for three ages received the tribute of grati⯑tude in the honours that were rendered him, had now fallen under the ſtroke of [167] the moſt vulgar of tyrants. Had theſe monſters looked for precedents for their cruelties, they might have found them in their prototype Caligula, for in this very city that tyrant once reſided: and the re⯑ſemblance of Caligula and Collot is ſo far ſtriking, that they both exerciſed their deſpotiſm over the ſame claſs of citizens; though the motives of Caligula appear to have been more natural than thoſe of Collot, and his cruelty more diſcrimi⯑nate.

While this tragic ruffian was acting his part at Lyons, others with principles as atrocious, though they were leſs ſteeped in blood, were carrying deſolation into other parts of France. Bourdeaux, which had been raiſing itſelf to the height of the revolution, was now a prey to the caprice of a young monſter who had not yet counted twenty years, and who was the valet of Robeſpierre in the commiſ⯑ſion of crimes. The republican patriots [168] having long ſince fallen under the pro⯑ſcription, Julien's inſtructions and plan ſeem to have been the eſtabliſhment of ſanſculottiſm over the ariſtocracies of com⯑merce, of muſcadiniſm, and of wealth. His correſpondence is as ſilly as it is atro⯑cious, and of its atrocity we may judge when he condemns the meaſures of blood already taken as being moderate and al⯑moſt counter-revolutionary. It appears that he was one of the firſt who had de⯑nounced the enormities of Carrier; but ages of puniſhment or repentance will not atone for the murder of Salles and Guadet, who were executed at Bourdeaux during Julien's adminiſtration, together with Guadet's father, mother, ſiſter and her huſband, the huſband's brother, and one of his aunts; in ſhort, the whole family, excepting Guadet's wife, whoſe murder was delayed till ſhe recovered from a ſe⯑vere indiſpoſition, which happily laſted till the tyrants fell.

LETTER VI.

NO claſs of men were more intereſted in the preſervation of the abuſes of the an⯑cient government than the prieſts. When the conſtituent aſſembly leſſened the in⯑fluence of the higher clergy, by ſtripping the church of its domains, and making the ſalaries of its miniſters more equal, the national wealth was not only increaſ⯑ed, but the great maſs of the prieſt⯑hood were ſatisfied with the diſtribution. The majority of thoſe who had hitherto directed the machine of the revolution were fully perſuaded that the prieſthood ſhared but little in its ſpirit; and, know⯑ing that whatever does not keep pace with its career, retards its progreſs, had ſought at different times to diſſolve the [170] alliance of the church and ſtate alto⯑gether. They felt indeed that the article in the declaration of rights, which ſays "that no one ſhall be diſturbed in his religious opinions," muſt be eventually ſubverſive of the eſtabliſhed religion; ſince whoever believed it to be not only unneceſſary and expenſive, but hoſtile to the great principles of liberty, would murmur at contributing to its ſupport.

A conſiderable part of the clergy re⯑fuſed to accede to the civil conſtitution which the conſtituent aſſembly had form⯑ed, alleging that in matters of religion, or in the regulations of the church, no one ought to guide their faith, or receive their obedience, but the perſonage who, in conſtant ſucceſſion from the great author of chriſtianity, had held the dele⯑gated power. This claſs had by their non-conformity loſt their employment, but they were not the leſs cheriſhed on that account by thoſe who thought [171] with themſelves, that man was made for the ſabbath, and not the ſabbath for man. The zeal of theſe non-jurors for the faith which they contended was once delivered to the ſaints, was too ardent to ſuffer this humiliation of the church in ſilence; nor was the vigilance of the friends of the re⯑volution leſs awake to counteract their ef⯑forts. The majeſty of the church, of which they believed themſelves to be the only true ſupporters, would not permit them to bow before the majeſty of the people; and when the legiſlative aſſembly under⯑took to be the interpreters of the law, and enacted decrees for the baniſhment of the unconſtitutional clergy, they ſought refuge in the majeſty of the throne, the cheriſhed ally hi herto of the church, whoſe power was at this time ſcarcely more confirmed than its own.

The protection given by the court to the non-juring clergy haſtened the ruin [172] of both^*. The king refuſed at firſt to ſanction the decree of the legiſlative aſ⯑ſembly, who however at length prevail⯑ed: and when the royal power was an⯑nihilated, which happened not long after, the prieſts were compelled to ſeek aſy⯑lums of charity, in foreign countries, of thoſe whoſe anceſtors had fled from the bloody perſecutions of their order, but whoſe injuries the ſons had forgotten; or if ſtill remembered, they perhaps an⯑ſwered as Guiſe did to Poltrot, "If your religion enjoins you to murder, ours compels us to forgive."

The diſpoſition of the national con⯑vention was ſtill more unfavourable than that of the legiſlative aſſembly to the [173] civil eſtabliſhment of the clergy. The truth is, that the enlightened part of the country had conſidered religion as a per⯑ſonal thing. Thoſe who believed, of which the number was not very great, thought the protection of the ſtate no addition to its dignity; and thoſe who diſbelieved, or, which was the ſame, con⯑founded the doctrines of chriſtianity and the eſtabliſhed church, thought that its alliance was not only burdenſome, but pernicious. The great diviſions of the contending parties for the government gave the prieſthood reſpite. But no ſooner was this queſtion decided, and the reign of Robeſpierre eſtabliſhed, than the men of reaſon, as they called themſelves, re⯑newed the attack againſt the men of the church, who were unable to make any farther reſiſtance.

The conſtitutional clergy had no pro⯑tection but that which was given them by the conſtitution now proſcribed, and [174] had inſpired no intereſt in the devotees, who conſidered them rather as apoſtates from religion, than defenders of the faith; and treacherous guides in the road of ſalvation, on account of their compliance with the law.

A ſtrict adherence to the ceremonies and doctrines of the Romiſh church was not the only ſuperſtition that darkened France. There was another of a more terrible nature, and more deſtructive of ſocial order, which was atheiſm. Vol⯑taire has obſerved, that a reaſoning atheiſt is a greater ſcourge to mankind, than the moſt ſanguinary fanatic. The com⯑mune of Paris had aſſumed this charac⯑ter; and, having twice contributed to overturn the civil government of the country in the ſpace of a few months, imagined that the kingdom of the next world was to be taken by force as well as the kingdom of the preſent. This formidable project was conceived, and [175] brought to maturity in modeſt ſilence. The good people of Paris, who had troubled themſelves but little about re⯑ligion, but who imagined that there might be ſomething good in it, as there is in the worſt of vocations, were ex⯑tremely ſurpriſed to ſee the archbiſhop of Paris, with his clergy, preſent themſelves at the bar of the convention, attended by the conſtituted powers of the department and the municipality, "to be regene⯑rated;" that is, to abjure their former belief, and make their new confeſſion of faith, in which they declared that there was no other duty than liberty, no other goſpel than the republican conſtitution, and no other worſhip than equality. This illumination was not the reſult of the deep ſtudies either of the archbiſhop or his vicars. The ſecret was imparted to him by Chaumette, the procureur of the commune, to whom it was diſcovered by one Clootz, commonly called Ana⯑charſis, [176] a Pruſſian by birth, [...] an atheiſt by profeſſion, whoſe hiſtory I have already related. Clootz had writ⯑ten a book, which he told the conven⯑tion on preſenting it was the fruit of fifteen hours labour every day during the courſe of four years. He alſo in⯑ſtructed them that this work, ſingular in its method and curious in its detail, over⯑turned at one ſtroke all fects, antient or modern, of natural or revealed religion.—Of this work, which "proved the nothingneſs of all religion," the conven⯑tion decreed the acceptance, and honour⯑able mention; and, thus armed, Ana⯑charſis ſet out on his travels to convert the world to atheiſm. There was ſome⯑thing maſterly in his firſt attempt; and had he been ſatisfied with the converſion of the archbiſhop and the commune, whom he brought to the bar of the con⯑vention, he might have enjoyed his tri⯑umph in ſecurity; but when he attempt⯑ed [177] to proſelyte the convention itſelf, Robeſpierre oppoſed the invader with his doctrine of the Supreme Being, and Anacharſis was ſent to the priſon of the Luxembourg. There a friend of mine found him in daily controverſy with Thomas Paine, who had juſt written "The Age of Reaſon," for his credulity in ſtill indulging ſo many religious and political prejudices. Soon after, this vain enthuſiaſt was ſent by his polemic antagoniſt Robeſpierre to the guillotine, where many of his converts in ſucceſſion followed him, and among his pupils was the archbiſhop.

Many of the biſhops and prieſts who were deputies in the aſſembly, and ſome of the miniſters of the proteſtant faith, animated by the example of the arch⯑biſhop, made their public recantation. Of this laſt ſect one obſerved that, though his ſyſtem of faith inculcated, more than any other, moral obligations, yet, as the [178] great day of judgment was arrived, the reign of reaſon, the triumph of philoſo⯑phy, he muſt diveſt himſelf of his ſacer⯑dotal character, and become regenerated alſo, ſince, as he confeſſed, "tous les prêtres dans tous les cultes ont toujours un peu de charlataniſme^*."

The ingenuouſneſs in the members of one profeſſion provoked the ſame candour in thoſe of another. The prieſts having confeſſed that there was a little quackery in their adminiſtration of the next world, the phyſicians crowded to the bar of the commune, to acknowledge that they had been "un peu prêtres" alſo, and that a little ſpice of mountebank dealing en⯑tered into their adminiſtration of this. Admitting that nature and reaſon were the beſt remedies, they made offerings of their diplomas by which they had been [179] authoriſed to cure ſecundum artem, in direct contradiction to both; and this virtuous dereliction of their former prac⯑tice was rewarded with applauſes and civic inſertion.

Reformation, as well as terror, was the order of the day: the ſearching eye of the commune left nothing unexplored. To the epuration of the prieſts and phy⯑ſicians ſucceeded that of the comedians, who had no profeſſional ſins to confeſs, ſince they had acted their parts on the ſtage of the world without any diſguiſe. However, the commune thought that thoſe who had been in the habitude of perſonating princes, and nobles, and queens, and counteſſes, could little reliſh habits of equality, and therefore ſent to priſon both actors and actreſſes as ſuſ⯑pected.

The ſpirit of reform did not ſtop at the conſecration of the ſpoils of the church to the ſervices of the ſtate. It [180] ſeized on thoſe privileges which in all countries, and under every eſtabliſhment of religion, have been accorded with the common conſent of mankind, and on the exerciſe of which much of the order and happineſs of the world has been thought to depend. On our entrance into the world it is the prieſt who confers on us our moral exiſtence; in riper days it is he who hallows our affections; and with⯑out his diſmiſſion we have been taught to think that our road to heaven was not altogether ſecure. Of the two firſt of theſe functions, the legiſlative aſſembly had taken poſſeſſion—the fathers brought their children to be regenerated at the municipal font, and the lover led his bluſhing miſtreſs before the altar of Hy⯑men, and received her from the hand of the civil officer, who pronounced their union "in the name of the law." The care of diſpoſing of the citizens at death yet remained to the church, and the fu⯑nerals [181] continued to darken the way in long proceſſions, till the commune ſeized on this laſt prerogative of the clergy, and decreed, that gay revolutionary colours of the nation ſhould take place of the funereal pall—the prieſts ſhould be changed into municipal officers, and the cemetery ſhould be called the place of repoſe, where, inſtead of the hope of be⯑ing troubled with a reſurrection, the ci⯑tizen ſhould have the privilege of ſleep⯑ing for ever.

The church of Notre Dame was changed into the temple of Reaſon; and the commune, with the divinity herſelf, attended by a ſplendid train, came to requeſt the convention to ſanctify with their preſence the conſecration. The Goddeſs of Reaſon was a fine blooming damſel of the opera-houſe, and acted her part in this comedy alſo to the entire ſatisfaction of her new votaries. From her imperial throne, in which ſhe was [182] borne by four porters, ſhe deſcended to the right hand of the preſident of the conven⯑tion, and by a decree received the fraternal kiſs, as ſoon as the procureur of the com⯑mune, who attended as high prieſt, or maſter of the ceremonies, had announced her negative and poſitive character; "firſt, that ſhe was not, like the objects of the ancient worſhip, a cold and inanimate image; and next, that ſhe was a maſter⯑piece of nature; and that her ſacred form had ſo enflamed every heart, that only one univerſal cry was heard, "No more prieſts, and no other gods!"

When the deputies arrived at the temple, the Goddeſs of Reaſon introduced them to the Goddeſs of Liberty, who came out of the houſe of Philoſophy, to receive their homage, and beſtow her benediction. The enemies of the revo⯑lution encouraged theſe follies, which the patriot diſavowed and lamented: and the philoſopher would only have ſmiled at [183] theſe tranſient puerilities, had they not been mixed with atrocity and crimes. Alas! the reſpect for Reaſon was as fleeting as the reſpect for other ſtrange gods; for her altars were ſoon deſerted, and her high prieſts, and the divinity her⯑ſelf, were ſoon after conducted amidſt the applauſes of the people to the guillotine. Immediately after the regeneration of the metropolitan, thoſe who felt the ſame conviction of its neceſſity made con⯑feſſion of their ſins, and applied for the conventional bleſſing. This conviction nevertheleſs was far from being general in either profeſſion; for though the con⯑ſtitutional clergy were attached to the cauſe of liberty, and rejoiced in the re⯑generation of their country, they did not imagine that the belief of reward in a future ſtate would make a leſs virtuous citizen of the preſent. This counter-revolutionary obſtinacy was held in great indignation. Though the commune had [184] called on Reaſon, like the prieſts of Baal, "from morning until noon," the votaries at her ſhrine were few and ſoli⯑tary, and it became neceſſary for the honour of the goddeſs, that more revo⯑lutionary meaſures ſhould be purſued. Accordingly, attended by the committees of the ſections, and the popular ſocieties of Paris, the municipality appeared a ſecond time at the bar of the convention, where, after a philippic againſt the unre⯑canting clergy, they demanded the ſup⯑preſſion of their ſalaries, and that thoſe who believed in "the tales of augurs ſhould pay them." The convention, who probably had as little faith in augurs as the commune, had however more charity, and deferred the ſentence of famine, which the municipality had decreed. The commune, though it did not ſuc⯑ceed in the attack on the prieſthood, was more ſucceſsful in its attacks on the church. The word of order was [185] iſſued, and the ſtreets of Paris were filled with mock religious proceſſions. The moſt ludicrous maſquerades preſented themſelves in every quarter; pioneers and artillery-men led the march, clothed in the ſurplices of the inferior clergy; the national guard were arrayed in the habits of the prieſts; the revolutionary citizens of the ſection were veſted in garments ſtill more coſtly; the revolutionary ladies and the prieſteſſes of Reaſon had ſancti⯑fied themſelves with the dreſſes belonging to the Virgin, and St. Frances and St. Bridget; and the revolutionary committee had reſerved for their own decoration, with great prudence, all the garments of fine gold, embroidery and jewels, while the caps of the prieſts and the mitres were placed on the heads of the horſes employed in dragging theſe weighty ſpoils, which were to be preſented to the con⯑vention. Theſe offerings conſiſted of [186] croſſes, ſuns, vaſes, chandeliers, and chaſes, apoſtles and ſaints in gold and ſilver, St. Anthony and his pig, St. Roche and his dog, and all the other ſaints re⯑giſtered in the calendar who were found to be of the ſame metallic worth. From the convention, after undergoing the ſen⯑tence of condemnation for ariſtocratical and counter-revolutionary principles, they were ſent to be regenerated at the mint, and make expiation for the long ſeries of impoſitions they had been practiſing on the world, by becoming, under a new form, the protectors of liberty and the republic.

The wooden ſaints, who in moral and religious eſtimation were equal, and often⯑times ſuperior, in paradiſaical rank to their brethren, though their conſideration in theſe moments of irreligious phrenſy was infinitely leſs, were committed, with⯑out remorſe, to the flames at the place of [187] execution. And into the ſame unhallowed fire were thrown thoſe ineſtimable trea⯑ſures which had been for ages the conſolation of the ſuffering believer, and the refuge of the faithful and pious. Amid the ſacrilegious pile lay three eyes of the evangeliſts; a blue jacket, be⯑daubed with paint, taken from the ward⯑robe of St. Luke; a piece of ragged tent cloth, that had been purchaſed from the warehouſe of St. Paul, and his cloak, which had been left with Carpus; a few of the coats and garments of St. Dorcas, which the weeping widows had ſhewn to St. Peter; all which, with other relics ſtill more precious, ſuch as ſome of the moveables belonging to the holy Virgin, with parts of her apparel; the ſpoon and pap-diſh of the holy child; the head of ſome renowned ſaint of St. Genevieve's acquaintance; the bones of the patroneſs of Paris herſelf, with her linen, and other property found in her [188] chapel^*, of which age had obliterated the knowledge, with arms, legs, toes, and little fingers of illuſtrious martyrs, became the prey of revolutionary flames, kindled with bundles of the real wood of the croſs.

But theſe civic ſacrifices were not con⯑fined to the worſhippers of the eſtabliſhed ſyſtem; the ſectaries alſo burnt with the ſame patriotic zeal; the followers of Mo⯑ſes and of Calvin applauded theſe votive [189] offerings of their catholic brethren. They beheld with ſecret ſatisfaction the down⯑fall of a power, of which they had been for ages the victims, while they depoſited the precious ornaments and utenſils of their own worſhip, but without compli⯑menting the ſtate with the abjuration of their religious belief. In this madneſs againſt ſuperſtition ſome method was obſerved. Almoſt every monument that bore the marks of genius, every relic that could contribute to the progreſs of the arts, was preſerved with care, and de⯑poſited in places of ſafety. Many a ſaint owes his reſcue from deſtruction to the chiſel of the ſculptor or the painter's ſkill; and except in a few of the depart⯑ments, nothing was deſtroyed that was worth preſerving.

The great depoſitory at St. Denis nevertheleſs ſuffered from this reforming rage. The crowns of Dagobert and Clovis; the ſceptres of Philip the beautiful, and [190] Henry the fowler; the ſilver helmet and golden ſpurs of Charlemagne; and the rich variety of treaſure ariſing from the munificence of ſovereigns to the tutelary ſaint of France, were mingled together in the crucible of the mint. The bodies of theſe monarchs and heroes were not treated with equal reſpect; for, as the edict had gone forth againſt every veſtige of royalty, and every mark or remnant of ariſtocracy, the tombs in which they had been for ages quietly inurned were forced to open their ponderous jaws; and thoſe furious Jacobins, worſe than "the helliſh rout that tore the Thracian bard in Rhodope," had the ſatisfaction to ſee the bones and aſhes of the long line of their Charles's, Henries, and Louis; of their Condés, Montmorencies, and Turennes, before wh ſe loweſt valets they would have trembled in ſubmiſſive [...] become the prey of famiſhed dogs, and the ſport of the winds.

[191] One of the pretences for this violation of the dead, which was general around Paris, and in ſome of the neighbouring departments, was the want of the cof⯑fins that encloſed them to make bullets for the uſe of the army. The cemete⯑ries were therefore called the revolu⯑tionary lead-mines. If the ramblings of imagination might be indulged amidſt the horror which this ſort of plunder in⯑ſpired, we might purſue theſe revolu⯑tionary inſtruments of death to their deſtination, and ſee many an emigrant laid proſtrate with the former covering of his parents' duſt. On many a coun⯑tenance doomed to long night, the ſun once again ſhone, and many met its be [...]ms, whoſe features preſerved all their original force and character. Among others, madame Sevigné was found en⯑tire, with the unfading bloom of healthy and virtuous old age: but as the edict againſt ariſtocracy and privileges com⯑prehended [192] talents as well as birth, the wiſe as well as the mighty ſuffered in the general proſcription againſt lead coffins; except Deſcartes, whoſe bones were put into a baſket, and carried to the Pantheon, where he is fated to repoſe with the "immortal and divine Marat."

LETTER VII.

WHILE Paris was delivered up to the moſt execrable factions, of which I ſhall hereafter give you a detail, the weſtern departments became the theatre of calamities infinitely more tremendous. The ſtruggles which took place previ⯑ouſly to the 31ſt of May between the republicans and the conſpirators, toge⯑ther with the defeat of the northern ar⯑mies, and the defection of Dumourier, had diverted the attention of government from the dangers by which they were menaced in the Vendée. Of this war we yet know but little, and what we do know is only the hiſtory written by the party which perſecuted.

Of all the evils which infeſt mankind, [194] thoſe occaſioned by war are the moſt de⯑ſtructive. The hurricane, the earthquake, and the volcano, thoſe convulſions in nature which ſhake the earth to its baſis, and ſeem to threaten it with annihilation, are not to be compared with the ſcourges of war. We read of cities beſieged and taken by ſtorm, without ſympathizing very deeply in the hiſtory. We ſee nei⯑ther the inſidious mine which ſhatters a thouſand limbs at one blow, nor hear the cannon and the bomb, which per⯑form the work of deſtruction more open⯑ly. The ſoldier climbing precipices, or ſcaling walls, to fall with indiſcriminate rage on the old, the infant, and the de⯑fenceleſs, and to convert flouriſhing ci⯑ties into one vaſt cemetery, is only a be⯑ing of romance to thoſe who have lived at a diſtance from ſuch ſcenes, and the tenor of whoſe days has glided away in tranquillity. When the laws of war according to the regulations of civilized [195] ſociety are obſerved, the miſeries are ſtill tremendous: the laws of nature are perverted; it is the young, not the old, that deſcend firſt to the tomb, and all the dear and tender relations of life are broken—the father laments his ſon—the wife the huſband torn from them to ſerve the purpoſes of ambition or cruelty—whole countries are depopulated, fields lie uncultivated, and famine produces deſpair.

If ſuch are the evils attendant on war when men murder each other without provocation and without reſentment; when they ſcarcely know either the cauſe of the diſpute which brought them into the field, or for whom they are going to ſhed their blood; what muſt be the hor⯑ror of that conflict where every regula⯑tion of humanity is conſidered as con⯑ſpiracy and treaſon, where every action becomes laudable in proportion as it be⯑comes ferocious, where murder is the [196] only mark of bravery, and where ex⯑termination alone is conqueſt!

The progreſs of the royaliſts after the events of the 10th of Auguſt to the epocha of Dumourier's defection, had remain⯑ed unnoticed; nor was it till they had raiſed a moſt formidable camp and me⯑naced Nantes, Angers, and other cities, and iſſued their formal manifeſtoes de⯑manding the re-eſtabliſhment of the prieſt⯑hood, nobility, and royalty, that any effective meaſures were taken to repreſs them. The firſt generals that were ſent againſt them, who were Berruyer, Marie, and Ligonier, acted, it is ſaid, as if they were their allies, rather than their ene⯑mies; and Quetinau, who ſucceeded them, is accuſed of having ſurrendered Touars, with the magazines which it contained, and an army of four thouſand men.

Theſe defections on the one ſide, and the victories of the royaliſts on the other, at length rouſed the convention, who [197] decreed that an army of three hundred thouſand men ſhould be raiſed to ſuc⯑cour what they called the patriots in the Vendée, who were oppoſed by the robbers. As this ſeemed to be an ex⯑tra-ſervice, great rewards were given to thoſe who would enliſt to go and aſſiſt "their brethren;" but moſt of theſe heroes, who were paid enormous ſums to perform this act of charity, went and increaſed the armies of the malcontents, inſtead of fighting againſt them. A ſhort time after the 31ſt of May, Saumur was taken by the royaliſts, and a number of other important places, Vehiers, Parte⯑nay, Breſſuire, and Fontenay the capital of the department, fell into their power. The armies of the convention fled con⯑tinually before numbers greatly inferior, and abandoned their magazines, baggage, and cannon; ſo that the Vendéan troops were furniſhed completely with ſtores of every kind from the cowardice of the [198] conventional forces, or the treachery of their commanders. While theſe diſ⯑graces befel the armies on the weſtern ſide, Nantes, which was beſieged by an army of forty thouſand men, was de⯑fended with five thouſand, by Canclaux, who by the prudence and vigour of his operations ſaved the province of Brit⯑tany, and gained ſeveral important vic⯑tories. Other generals who appeared to have the means as well as the intention of finiſhing the war expeditiouſly, among whom was the former duc de Biron^*, [199] were ſuſpended, as well as Canclaux, while Ronſin and Roſſignol, two ſanſculotte generals, were loaded with eulogiums by the conſpirators of Paris, in propor⯑tion as they were defeated by the roy⯑aliſts.

The royaliſts, encouraged by their ſuc⯑ceſſes, and finding themſelves ſo well ſe⯑conded by theſe generals, marched on the 27th of July towards Angers, and to a bridge which was an important paſs, [200] called the bridge of Cé. Orders were given to evacuate this poſt, as had been done in preceding inſtances. But con⯑trary meaſures being taken by a deputy in miſſion, and other diſpoſitions being made by general Tune, both places were ſaved, and for the firſt time a vic⯑tory was obtained. This general gained a ſtill greater advantage, and a fortnight after he was broke.

The evacuation of Cholet by the roy⯑aliſts would have been the conſequence of their defeat; but when general Rey was propoſing to take advantage of his victory, an imperial edict of the ſame ſanſculotte general forced him to a re⯑treat. As a reward for ſucceſſes which Rey afterwards gained, he alſo was broke; and his adjutant, who came to Paris to plead for him, was thrown into the dun⯑geon of the Conciergerie.

Theſe plans of military operations were not likely to be attended with much [201] ſucceſs, and have appeared at all times myſterious. Phillipeaux, in his ſtric⯑tures on this war, calls it a ſtrange phe⯑nomenon for hiſtory, that the govern⯑ment ſhould have looked calmly on, whilſt thoſe who gained victories were diſgraced, and thoſe whoſe only proweſs had conſiſted in converting whole ar⯑mies compoſed of ſome of the braveſt and beſt diſciplined troops in the re⯑public, into heaps of carcaſſes, were careſſed and continued in command. Phillipeaux, in his letter to the committee of public-ſafety, aſſures them that the two generals Ronſin and Roſſignol had butchered from forty to fifty thouſand patriots.

But time reveals moſt myſteries. At this period the conſpirators in Paris were more in dread of the reſentment of the departments than they were of the arms of the royaliſts. Of the various calum⯑nies which they invented againſt the de⯑puties [202] who had fled from Paris, that of joining the royaliſts was the moſt induſ⯑triouſly propagated; and while the pro⯑ſcribed deputies were held up to the pub⯑lic as the ſupporters and actors in a cauſe which all parties agreed to call rebellion, the conſpirators found themſelves juſti⯑fied in taking the meaſures beſt fitted to exterminate the only rivals they had to dread. Had the royaliſts been defeated, and the rebellion cruſhed, the calumny would have been diſcovered, and all pretence for puniſhment taken away. It was the intereſt therefore of the uſurp⯑ers to menace the people with the venge⯑ance of royaliſm and federaliſm united; and none were better calculated to fulfil their intentions, than thoſe inexperienced and profligate men who had the moſt remarkable talents for procuring the de⯑feat of the armies they commanded.

Whether or no this be the real expla⯑nation of that which has been deemed ſo [203] myſterious, muſt be left to the conſidera⯑tion of thoſe who wiſh to penetrate into this labyrinth. When we ſee the hiſtory of the war of the Vendée written by the royaliſts themſelves, it is probable that they will ſay, that their own valour, and the goodneſs of the cauſe in which they were engaged, gave them theſe victories. In yielding its full force to this expla⯑nation, and ſuppoſing that the conven⯑tional armies were defeated by braver troops, it will yet remain unexplained, why, of two claſſes of conventional ge⯑nerals, thoſe who beat and thoſe who were beaten, the former ſhould have found either impriſonment, or the ſcaf⯑fold, and the others prodigality of fa⯑vours.

The uſurpers having ſucceeded in their criminal deſigns againſt the republican party, now found it neceſſary to rid themſelves of the royaliſts, whom they had hitherto made uſeful to their deſigns. [204] The latter end of Auguſt they formed a different plan for the remainder of the campaign, which conſiſted in attacking at once the royaliſts from every point, and finiſhing the conteſt as it were at a ſingle blow. The army on the northern ſide was committed to Roſſignol and Ronſin, and the revolutionary legions and the army on the weſtern coaſt were entruſted to Lechelle. However well this plan might have been combined, the firſt ſpecimen thoſe who were to ex⯑ecute it gave of obedience to their in⯑ſtructions was to ſuffer the inſurgents to take poſſeſſion of the iſland of Noir⯑moutier, Machecoul, and other places, and evacuate Montaigu, where they abandoned immenſe magazines of every ſort, and the army was reduced to ſleep in the open air; while their ignorant or treacherous leaders kept at a convenient diſtance, ſurrounded by actreſſes, cour⯑teſans, and all the licentiouſneſs of an [205] eaſtern camp, with all the vulgarity of the loweſt profligacy.

This defeat was followed by many others, and by the capture alſo of ſeveral towns. The expedition which Lechelle made was ſo contrived, that his troops had not the means of effecting a retreat. The protection of the city of Nantes was entruſted to him, and he ſuffered a body of ſome hundred royaliſts to cut off its proviſions for ſeveral days in the face of his whole army; and when the repre⯑ſentatives of the people requeſted him to ſend a detachment to reſcue a convoy of flour which had fallen into the enemy's hands, he treated the application with contempt.

While this general was diſpoſing of the conventional armies on the weſtern ſide, his colleagues Roſſignol and Ron⯑ſin, the latter of whom having ſeen ſome ſervice took the title of miniſter-general, were preparing to execute the plan of [206] the campaign on the other ſide. Inſtead of marching to attack the enemy, they halted for ſome time at Saumur and Tours, ſo as to let the royaliſt army ac⯑quire its proper conſiſtency. To ſur⯑round the enemy was the great object; and orders were ſent to the commanders of the ſouthern armies at Niort, Lucon, and Partenay, to co-operate. The event of this arrangement was, conformably to the ordinary ſyſtem, the total defeat of theſe diviſions; and on the 18th of Sep⯑tember ſo admirably were the inſtruc⯑tions obeyed, that fifty thouſand men at Coran and near the paſſage of the Loire at Cé, commanded by Ronſin and Roſ⯑ſignol, were attacked by an army con⯑ſiſting of three thouſand royaliſts only; and what could appear ſcarcely credible, the ſanſculotte generals had ſo ingeniouſly arranged their troops, that they were not only defeated by this inconſidera⯑ble detachment, but the ſlaughter was immenſe.

[207] This extraordinary defeat will not, I am told, ſurpriſe any military man, when he hears that the conventional army was arranged for battle in a ſingle column, in the defiles of Coran, with eight men in front, and preſenting a flank to the enemy, who had poſſeſſion of the heights, of nearly twelve miles in extent. The artillery, inſtead of being placed on thoſe heights, under the protection of a ſtrong detachment, as was propoſed by the guides, and thoſe who knew the country, was placed at the head of this long co⯑lumn, and of courſe fell into the hands of the royaliſts, who turned it againſt the conventional troops, and made great carnage. In the mean time, detachments of the enemy gained poſſeſſion of the heights without difficulty and without reſiſtance, maſſacred the troops below, taking them in flank, and made them, from the confuſion into which they were thrown, the exterminators of each other.

[208] The generals who commanded this ex⯑pedition were, in the mean time, regaling themſelves at a diſtance, with their miſ⯑treſſes, ſome of whom were afterwards goddeſſes of reaſon; but they had the prudence to deſtroy their magazines, in⯑ſtead of leaving them as uſual at the diſpoſition of the enemy. The harveſt of that part of the country was juſt then gathered in, and would have ſufficed them for a whole year, had they ſe⯑cured it agreeably to the orders of the convention.

This new plan of a campaign was not attended with more happy ſucceſs than the former, and the myſtery which em⯑barraſſed Phillipeaux became ſtill more inexplicable. It would be difficult in⯑deed to define what could be the motive which led the government to look with ſo much complacency on this continued ſyſtem of defeat and carnage, did we not ſee what combinations of crooked policy [209] were put into execution to ſecure the purpoſes of ferocious ambition. The party of the Gironde, being completely cruſhed, gave them no longer any in⯑quietude, and it became now the intereſt of the uſurpers to bring the war to a ſpeedy iſſue. The two former plans not having ſucceeded, the committee of pub⯑lic ſafety publiſhed another. Theſe con⯑ſpirators had ſeen how efficacious their decrees had been in ſeveral inſtances, and therefore imagined a mode of putting an end to this deſtructive conteſt by decree⯑ing that it ſhould finiſh on the 20th of October, and that the generals ſhould receive the triumphal crown on the firſt of November following. We ſhould be inclined to ſmile at this exceſs of folly, if that diſpoſition were not ſuppreſſed by indignation and horror at the atrocious orders which were given for this purpoſe to their armies, "that deſolation and in⯑diſcriminate [210] deſtruction muſt now be⯑come the order of the day."

The decree having ſtated in expreſs terms, "that all the retreats, mills, and ovens of the robbers ſhould be deſtroyed and burnt, and that the miniſter of war ſhould be ordered to ſend combuſtible matter for that purpoſe;" and the pro⯑clamation of the convention having in⯑vited the ſoldiers of liberty to exterminate all theſe robbers, before the end of Octo⯑ber; "the ſoldiers of liberty," and all thoſe who were invited to the accom⯑pliſhment of this new plan of the cam⯑paign, prepared to put it into execution. Neither the committee of uſurpation, nor the convention had been nice in the de⯑finition of their terms, and therefore the ſoldiers of liberty undertook to conſtrue them at their pleaſure. Accordingly, every houſe of the peaceful inhabitant came within the definition of the retreat of a robber, ſince every inhabitant of the [211] Vendée was conſidered as a robber, and conſequently his dwelling muſt be a re⯑treat.

Whether or no the inſtruments of this barbarous and execrable policy reaſoned after this manner, they certainly became practical logicians; and the army, in ad⯑dition to their hundred thouſand bay⯑onets, were armed with a hundred thou⯑ſand torches; and having been pronounced by the uſurpers the executors of their juſt vengeance, the property of the armed royaliſt and the peaceable republican became alike objects of their rapacity and fury; and indiſcriminate maſſacre and plunder were literally the order of the day.

In the firſt days of the revolution, when liberty and philoſophy went hand in hand together, what a moral revolution was inſtantly effected throughout Europe, by the ſublime and immortal principles which this great change ſeemed about to introduce into government! But what [212] eternal regrets muſt the lovers of Liberty feel, that her cauſe ſhould have fallen into the hands of monſters ignorant of her charms, by whom ſhe has been transformed into a Fury, who, brandiſh⯑ing her ſnaky whips and torches, has enlarged the limits of wickedneſs, and driven us back into regions of guilt hitherto unknown!

So unexampled are the crimes which have been committed, that it will require ſtronger evidence than the hiſtorian is commonly bound to produce, to perſuade future generations of their reality. Alas! but a faint outline has been drawn of this terrifying picture, over which the friend of liberty would, if it were poſſible, like the recording angel, drop a tear, that might blot it out for ever.—"If ſome ſweet oblivious antidote" could drive from my brain the remembrance of theſe things, and from my heart the feelings that oppreſs it, as well as from [213] the knowledge of the world, I ſhould be tempted to ſnatch from the enemies of Liberty the triumph they aſſume from this mournful hiſtory. But theſe horrors muſt ſtain the page of the revolution for ever. The bloody characters muſt re⯑main indelible on the wall, a dreadful, but inſtructive leſſon to future ages, and to thoſe countries which are deſtined to labour through revolutions, and who will learn, while they contemplate this terrific chart, how to avoid the rocks on which Liberty has been nearly wrecked.

Dreadful indeed has been the criſis we have paſſed! yet it is ſome conſolation, amidſt this mighty maſs of evil, that France is at length beginning to learn wiſdom from the things ſhe has ſuffered. France no longer looks around to find apo⯑logies for the crimes that have been com⯑mitted: ſhe her elf holds up the criminals to the world. She boaſts not of her victo⯑ries over Europe armed againſt her rights; [214] but ſhe triumphs in the conqueſts ſhe has made over herſelf. It is ſome relief, while I am ſtruggling through the gloomy hiſtory of theſe horrors, that I ſee again the dawn of that glorious light which will chaſe them away. The laſt ſtroke has been given to that vile and degrading ſyſtem, which ignoble uſurpers had framed: we may now approach the altar of Liberty with confidence and hope; the hideous ſpectres that haunted it have fled for ever; and its incenſe in future will [...] grateful to heaven, and ſpread fragrance over a regenerated land.