LETTER I.

MY pen, wearied of tracing ſucceſſive pictures of human crimes and human ca⯑lamity, purſues its taſk with reluctance; while my heart ſprings forward to that fairer epocha which now beams upon the friends of liberty—that epocha when the French republic has caſt aſide her diſmal ſhroud, ſtained with the blood of the patriot, and bathed with the tears of the mourner; and preſents the bleſſed images of juſtice and humanity healing the deep wounds of her afflicted boſom: when the laws of mercy are but the echo [2] of the public opinion, of that loud cry for the triumph of innocence, of that horror of tyranny which hangs upon every lip, and thrills at every heart. The generous affections, the tender ſympa⯑thies ſo long repreſſed by the congealing ſtupefaction of terror, burſt forth with uncontrolable energy; and the enthuſiaſm of humanity has taken place of the gloomy terror of deſpair, as ſuddenly as, when the maſſy ice diſſolves in the re⯑gions of the north, ſummer awakens her clear rills, her freſh foliage and her lux⯑uriant flowers. Not to have ſuffered perſecution during the tyranny of Robeſ⯑pierre, is now to be diſgraced; and it is expected of all thoſe who have eſcaped that they ſhould aſſign ſome good reaſon, or offer ſome ſatisfactory apology for their ſuſpicious exemption from impriſonment. An ecrou^* is conſidered as a certificate [3] of civiſm, and is a neceſſary introduction to good ſociety. But happy, thrice hap⯑py is he who has been immured in a dungeon, and has been unfortunate be⯑yond the common lot! To him the ſocial circle liſtens with attention, for him the tender beauty wakes her ſofteſt ſmile—for him await all private and public honours; he may lay claim to the poſ⯑ſeſſion of the higheſt offices of the ſtate, and may aſpire in proportion as he has ſuffered. The tide of ſympathy and compaſſion has indeed run ſo high, that it has been obſerved to produce a ſort of affectation of complaint in ordinary minds; and as it was ſaid in the depart⯑ments after the taking of the Baſtile, that every Pariſian who came into the coun⯑try, declared himſelf one of the con⯑querors, and moſt of them had even ſeized De Launy by the ſhoulder, ſo at preſent if we were to lend our belief to [4] all thoſe who tell us they were on the fatal liſt deſtined for the guillotine on the 11th of Thermidor, the day after Ro⯑beſpierre's execution, we muſt ſuppoſe that his appointed hecatomb for that day conſiſted, inſtead of his ordinary ſacri⯑fice, of half Paris at leaſt. But after all the cruelties that have paſſed, how ſoothing is the moment when pity becomes the faſhion, and when tyranny is ſo execrated that to have been its victim is glory! The tears of compaſſion now flow even for thoſe objects whom once to commiſe⯑rate was death. A republican may now, unſuſpected of royaliſm, lament the fate of the innocent and intereſting ſufferer at the Temple; ſhe, whoſe birth-day was a day of triumph, whoſe cradle was ſtrewed with flowers, and who now, im⯑mured within a living tomb, remains the ſole ſurvivor of her unfortunate family. The proſpect of her ſpeedy releaſe from [5] captivity gives perhaps as general plea⯑ſure at Paris as at Vienna. This ſympa⯑thy is not confined to thoſe perſons who wiſh to replace her family upon the throne; for cruelty is no longer the order of the day, and the moſt deter⯑mined lover of democracy may now, without offending againſt its laws, pro⯑feſs his pity for a blooming beauty con⯑fined in gloomy towers, although ſhe happens to be a princeſs. That fair mourner, while ſhe waits the hour of li⯑berty and happineſs, is no longer encloſed in diſmal ſolitude within the walls of her apartment. For ſome weeks paſt ſhe has ſpent as much of the day as ſhe chooſes in the gardens of the Temple, and her confinement has been cheered by the ſociety of an amiable and accom⯑pliſhed lady, madame de Chatrenne, to whom ſhe is much attached, and who cheats the hours of their length by teach⯑ing her Italian and drawing. She often [6] enquires after her unhappy family, of whoſe fate, except that of her father, ſhe is altogether ignorant; but every enquiry ſhe makes concerning them, madame de Chatrenne is obliged to anſwer in con⯑formity to the orders ſhe has received from the committee of general ſafety, by telling her, "this is a ſecret of ſtate." And ſurely it is merciful to conceal from her events which have paſſed, till ſhe is placed in a ſituation where her tears will be wiped away with the tenderneſs of aſſiduous attention, and the ſympathy of congenial ſorrow.

Paris once more reaſſumes a gay aſ⯑pect, the poor again have bread, and the rich again diſplay the appendages of wealth. The proceſſions of death which once darkened the ſtreets, are now ſuc⯑ceeded by carriages elegant in ſimplicity, though not decorated with the blazonry of arms, or the lace of liveries. The cheerfulneſs habitual to pariſian phyſiog⯑nomy, [7] again lights up its reviving look; and the quick ſtep, the joyous ſmile, the ſmart repartee, the airy geſture, have ſucceeded the diſmal reſerve, and the trembling circumſpection which ſo ill ſuited the national character. With the careleſs ſimplicity of children who after the rigours of ſchool haſten to their ſports; the Pariſians, ſhaking off the hideous remembrance of the paſt, fly to the ſcenes of pleaſure.

The Thuilleries and the Champs-Ely⯑lées are again crowded with the ſpright⯑ly circles ſeated on each ſide of their broad alleys, and beneath the ſhade of their majeſtic trees. At the period of great ſcarcity of bread, when crowds aſ⯑ſembled every morning at the doors of the bakers ſhops, the people called it going à la queue. Thoſe queues, or ranks, in ſearch of bread have long ſince ceaſed, and are ſucceeded by queues in ſearch of pleaſure. There is a queue every even⯑ing [8] at every theatre; and the late perſe⯑cution of the roman catholic church having produced the uſual effect of per⯑ſecution, there is a queue at the churches every ſunday to hear maſs. For ſome time during the ſpring, there was a vio⯑lent ſchiſm at Paris between thoſe who choſe to make a holiday of ſunday, and thoſe who obſerved the decadi as a feſti⯑val. The town was nearly equally di⯑vided between what were called the Da⯑minicans, and the Decadiſts. One half of the tradeſmen ſhut up their ſhops, and one half of the mechanics refuſed to work on one day, the other half on the other. At length the matter has been compromiſed in the manner moſt agree⯑able to a people ſo fond of amuſement as the Pariſians, by making merry both on ſunday and decadi. Each day is become a holiday, on which churches, theatres, and public gardens are alike crowded, and all the world appears ſatisfied.

[9] The women indulge in their dreſs the full extent of female caprice, as well as extravagance. This day the peruque blonde^* converts the dark-complexioned nymph into a fair beauty; tomorrow ſhe reaſſumes her jetty locks, and thus varies her attractions.

Some lances were ſhivered lately be⯑tween the lovers of the Marſeillois hymn, and the amateurs of the reveil du peu⯑ple; but hoſtilities have now ceaſed in the ſame manner as between ſunday and de⯑cadi, by making it a rule to ſing both.

In the mean time literature and the arts, covered with fack-cloth and aſhes during the reign of our jacobin vandals, again revive, the national library offers every other day its treaſures of literature to the public, and its long galleries and ample tables are filled with perſons of [10] both ſexes, who, amidſt the ſilence which is there obſerved, enjoy the charms of meditation, or the pleaſure of ſtudy.

The noble gallery of the national muſeum filled with the maſter-pieces of art, is crowded three times a decade with citizens of all claſſes, the poor as well as the rich; who cannot fail to humanize their ſouls, as well as improve their taſte by ſuch contemplation. The celebrated ſculptured horſes of Marly now decorate the entrance of the Champs-Elyſées; the porticoes of the Louvre are filled with ſtatues; the public walks are preſerved with attentive care; and Paris, ſo lately beſmeared with blood—Paris, the refuge of barbariſm, and the den of carnage, once more excites the ideas of taſte, ele⯑gance, refinement, and happineſs.

But whither am I wandering? Before we reach thoſe fair and cheerful regions, we muſt paſs through the nethermoſt abyſs

In the concluſion of my laſt letter I mentioned that plan of ſpreading devaſ⯑tation, through the wide territory of the Vendée, which had entered into the councils of the committee of public ſafety. The ſad taſk remains of relat⯑ing how ſucceſsfully they accompliſhed their purpoſe. The character of the Vendean has been always repreſented as ſimple, humane and ruſtic; the dupe of the prieſt, and the ſlave of the noble. Had the convention, inſtead of ſending the ſword, ſent peace; inſtead of bayo⯑nets and ſoldiers, had they diſpatched apoſtles with miſſals of republicaniſm, [12] there is little doubt but this numerous and valuable part of community would long ſince have formed an integral part of the republic. "Theſe people," one of the mountain deputies, Dubois Crancé, obſerves, in ſpeaking of the Vendeans, "are the moſt reſpectable I have ever known; they attend to juſtice and rea⯑ſon, when you ſpeak to them with mild⯑neſs and humanity." Chodieu, who was another of the jacobinical miſſionaries, tells us, that "nothing was wanting but to ſpread inſtruction through that coun⯑try, to open the eyes of the people, and unmaſk and puniſh thoſe who miſled them." And Lequinio, who had ſo far deſtroyed his "prejudices" and his ſhame as to write a hiſtory to the convention of the maſſacres he was about to commit near Rochelle, and of his familiar revels with the executioner, informs us that had diſcreet and rational men been ſent to preach the doctrines of liberty, to de⯑velop [13] the principles of moral and politi⯑cal philoſophy, to invite the people to enquiry, to enlighten their minds and in⯑tereſt their feelings, that fanaticiſm which had hitherto kept them in ignorance would have diſappeared, and the love of liberty would have taken place of their attachment to the debaſing ſyſtem under which they had lived.

The evidence of this man will not be ſuſpected of partiality to that unhappy race, when we find him with all the fri⯑gid compoſure of a calculator reaſoning hypothetically, that, if the population which remains amounted only to thirty or forty thouſand ſouls—certainly the quickeſt way to finiſh the war would be to cut their throats. "So," adds he, "I thought at firſt, but the population is immenſe, it amounts to four hundred thouſand men.—If there be no hopes of ſucceſs in any other mode, without doubt we muſt cut the throats of the whole, [14] did they amount to five hundred thou⯑ſand men; I however am far from thinking it neceſſary—but—we muſt make no priſoners, and wherever we find men armed or unarmed, if there ap⯑pear any hoſtile diſpoſition, ſhoot them without any farther examination!"

When a man, who writes philoſophi⯑cal works to deſtroy prejudices^*, tells us, that the beſt practical mode of de⯑ſtroying them is to deſtroy thoſe who cheriſh them, he inſtructs us only in the art of the executioner. It is melancholy to ſee into what monſters men may be transformed by the poſſeſſion of power, or the grovelling paſſion of fear. Le⯑quinio weighs with calmneſs the advan⯑tage or diſadvantage of butchering five hundred thouſand men; and Garat and Lindet, men of temperate and philoſo⯑phical [15] minds, become actors in the 31ſt of May.

It is pretended that the plan of the committee was in reality that of the ge⯑neral extermination of the inhabitants of the Vendée. Lequinio hints at this de⯑ſign ſeveral times, and often deliberates how far it would be advantageous in cer⯑tain circumſtances to continue the ſyſtem of deſtruction; and a writer whom I have already mentioned, Vilate, a con⯑fident of Barrere, Robeſpierre, St. Juſt, and other conſpirators, tells us, that it was a ſerious object of diſcuſſion with theſe great legiſlators, how to diminiſh the population of France in the ſhorteſt given time. Rouſſeau aſſerts, that it is the perfection of a ſtate, when every ci⯑tizen has enough, and no one too much; and the provident policy of theſe reform⯑ers, it ſeems, amounted to this conclu⯑ſion, "that as in the preſent ſtate of pro⯑perty, which was but in few hands, the [16] majority could be in poſſeſſion but of a little, and where this inequality of for⯑tune exiſted, there could be no equality of rights, the only way of deſtroying this inequality was to let the government ſeize on the whole; that in order to exe⯑cute this plan all the great capitaliſts muſt be ſacrificed, that the reſt might be induced to yield up their poſſeſſions more readily; that a certain depopulation be⯑came alſo neceſſary, in order that France might furniſh from its own produce enough to feed its inhabitants; and that even after the extirpation of the people of fortune, thoſe incumbrances of the ſoil, if the population ſhould ſtill exceed the produce, means muſt be found, to uſe Barrere's words, "to ſweep away the rubbiſh," ſo that a certain number only ſhould remain. In the mean time the conventional arms were every where un⯑ſucceſsful. This ill ſucceſs was proba⯑bly at firſt, as I have already mentioned, [17] a part of the plan of the committee of public ſafety, in order to complete the ruin of the party of the Gironde; and thoſe who were eye witneſſes of the events that took place furniſh us with addi⯑tional cauſes that finiſh the diſcovery of all thoſe myſteries of which Philippeaux complains.

"The generals of this army," ſays Lequinio, a man not at all to be ſuſpect⯑ed of affection to the cauſe of the royal⯑iſts from what has juſt been ſaid, "have from the beginning made this war an object of ſpeculation and particular inte⯑reſt." Their immenſe pay and funds for extraordinary expences, their calcu⯑lations on the produce of pillage, the li⯑cence they gave the ſoldiers to excuſe their own rapacity, increaſed the love of plunder, and deſtroyed all diſcipline. This habit of pillage not only introduced diſorder into the army, but prompted to the commiſſion of every other crime. [18] "The moſt ſhocking barbarities," ſays Lequinio, "preſented themſelves at every corner. We have ſeen republican foldiers ſhoot or ſtab rebel women in the public roads. We have ſeen others car⯑rying infants torn from the breaſt, on the ends of their bayonets, or the pikes that had pierced with the ſame blow the child and the mother.

"All theſe horrors," adds Lequinio, "have ſharpened reſentment, and in⯑creaſed the number of the malcontents, who were compelled to acknowledge that our troops often diſplayed leſs virtue than the rebels, of whom ſome, it is true, com⯑mitted maſſacres; but the chiefs had al⯑ways the policy to preach virtue, and to affect a ſort of indulgence and genero⯑ſity towards our priſoners." His col⯑league Chodieu declares alſo, "however groſs and ſuperſtitious our governors have been pleaſed to paint our brethren, we might have eaſily ſucceeded in bring⯑ing [19] them within the pale of liberty." The Vendeans, it is certain, ſpared no⯑thing to draw over the republicans to their ſide, and ſent them back on their ſimple parole not to bear arms againſt the king or religion. The convention anſwered this humane policy by their proclamation to rob and maſſacre; and all who came in the way of their troops were robbed and maſſacred.

Municipalities, with their civil officers in republican coſtume, and who were re⯑ceived with all the appearances of frater⯑nity, have been murdered the hour after. Cavaliers armed and equipped, who had travelled many miles to ſurrender them⯑ſelves, had been ſhot without mercy. That ſuch a conduct ſhould increaſe the armies of the royaliſts was natural; and however well inclined a part of the in⯑habitants might have been to republican principles, driven to deſpair by the atro⯑cious and barbarous policy of the con⯑vention, [20] they were compelled to take an active part with the royaliſts.

In order to exterminate the inhabi⯑tants of the Vendée, it was neceſſary to deſtroy their abodes. Towns and vil⯑lages were delivered to the flames; the peopled ſtreets and the inſulated cottages were doomed alike to devaſtation; and ſo great was the fury of thoſe meſſengers of deſtruction, which Lequinio calls "les égarements des patriotes," that they de⯑ſtroyed immenſe quantities of corn and forage, not only driving the inhabitants to the neceſſity of increaſing the royaliſt army from want, but depriving them⯑ſelves of thoſe reſources which were ne⯑ceſſary to their own exiſtence.

Theſe are not the tales of the cruel⯑ties of Roman emperors and tyrants in the hiſtory of martyrs. They are hor⯑rors which have paſſed at our very doors, and of which we daily ſaw the witneſſes and ſufferers; and ſome of the great ac⯑tors [21] in thoſe ſcenes of ruin and deſola⯑tion, till their crimes were expiated by their puniſhment after the events of the firſt of Prairial, continued to live amongſt us; they paraded our ſtreets, they ſat in our aſſemblies, they raiſed their auda⯑cious fronts in the legiſlature.

It was not only to the ſavage ſoldier that the execution of this plan of exter⯑mination was committed: the conven⯑tion entruſted to its own members the ſuperintendence of this devaſtating ſyſ⯑tem. We have ſeen the fidelity with which it was executed by Collot d'Her⯑bois at Lyons. The Vendée was not yet ſufficiently puniſhed, and Carrier was ſent thither—Carrier! "at the name of Carrier," ſays the eloquent reporter of the Robeſpierrian correſpondence, "the ſmoking chart of the Vendée unrolls it⯑ſelf beneath our eyes. Thouſands of ſalamanders from amidſt the furnaces of the Vendée feed the fire which conſumes [22] the republic. You hear the crackling of the flame which devours both manu⯑factures and hamlets, cities and men; the ruins of caſtles mingle with the wrecks of cottages; melancholy and deplorable equality, which exiſts only in deſolation! I ſee by the glare of the blaze, thoſe who have kindled it, darting acroſs the burn⯑ing beams of falling houſes, like birds of prey, on the treaſures they contain. Even the aſylum of patriotiſm is not reſpected; the enemies taken with arms in their hands, and thoſe who lay them down, are precipitated into the ſame gulph; the common foe, and the friend who leads our ſoldiers to victory, who pro⯑cures them by ſure indications the means of neceſſary ſubſiſtence, periſh alike; and the ſame reſpect is paid to the pa⯑triot and the rebel."

If we cannot hear the name of Carrier without the ſtrongeſt ſenſations of horror, will not our judgment look ſomewhat [23] further than this ferocious inſtrument of guilt? The whole of the committee of public ſafety were his direct accomplices, and who will abſolve the convention? Carrier's inſtructions arrive. "We have received your letter," ſay the committee, "which gives us true ſatisfaction. We conjure thee to go to Nantes immedi⯑ately. We ſend thee a decree which charges thee to purge that city. It muſt be emptied without delay. Liberty ne⯑ver trifles. We can be humane when we are conquerors." What ſervices Carrier had already rendered to the com⯑mittee, does not appear; but they found in him, no doubt, a mind ſufficiently ca⯑pacious for wickedneſs to ſerve their purpoſes.

Carrier arrived at Nantes the 9th of October. The prologue to the tragedy had already been delivered. Gentin, the ſecretary of the national commiſſion, had already written to the intrepid moun⯑taineers [24] forming the committee of in⯑ſpection at Nantes: "Republican bre⯑thren, the repreſentatives ſend me the incloſed pieces, which I haſten to con⯑vey to you. Examine, and ſtrike hard and quick, like true revolutioniſts, other⯑wiſe I ſhall not be pleaſed. You want arms, you told me yeſterday, to execute your orders; ſpeak, aſk, and you ſhall have every thing—military force, com⯑miſſaries, couriers, clerks, and ſpies, if it be neceſſary. Speak one word, one word only, and I will engage that you ſhall be furniſhed inſtantly. Adieu all. I love you all. I ſhall always love you, becauſe your principles are mine. Think of a veſſel or houſes proper to form a priſon; ſecure depoſitories, &c. &c."

Such are the firſt inſtructions for Nantes. Without its walls murder had already begun its work; the peaceable inhabitants of a village near Cli [...]in, with the inſtruments of huſbandry in their [25] hands, were maſſacred by Luſignan, a general of brigade, with other peaſants who had been employed for ſome weeks in ſupplying Nantes with proviſions. In the adjoining communes, near a thou⯑ſand men and women had been ſhot without examination, and without trial; and of theſe maſſacres two commiſſaries only had been the ſuperintendants and directors. Carrier remained but a day or two at Nantes. He nevertheleſs ſtaid long enough to open his commiſſion, which conſiſted in the moſt atrocious in⯑vectives and execrations againſt the in⯑habitants, and particularly againſt the tradeſmen and merchants; declaring that, if he did not receive liſts of charges againſt the latter, he would in a ſhort time arreſt the whole, and then ſhoot and guillotine one perſon in ten. After hav⯑ing made them this paternal viſit, and given his inſtructions, he took his leave [26] for a few days to go and electrify the city of Rennes.

It was at this period that the com⯑mittee of public ſafety, through the or⯑gan of Barrere, publiſhed the happy ac⯑compliſhment of their prophetic decree, that the "Vendée exiſted no longer." At Paris, as no one dared to doubt of the infallibility of the committee, or ſuſ⯑pect its veracity, we imagined that the royaliſts had been completely cruſhed, becauſe the committee informed the convention that the Vendée exiſted no more. We learned, however, very ſoon, what this annihilation of the Vendée meant. It was not altogether one of thoſe agreeable figures of rhetoric with which Barrere was wont to harangue the convention, ſince there was ſome truth in the declaration, which we did not diſ⯑cover at the firſt glance: for the great army of the royaliſts had indeed evacu⯑ated [27] the ſeat of the war in the Vendée, if that could be called an evacuation which was a triumphal march acroſs the Loire. This paſſage was accompliſhed without any loſs, and the royaliſt army remained on the northern ſide without moleſtation for three days; after which they began their march towards the ſea coaſts, acroſs the departments which form the eaſtern part of the province of Brittany.

It might have been expected that their paſſage would have been oppoſed, or their march haraſſed: and that this did not happen was another of Philip⯑peaux's myſteries; but the royaliſts were ſuffered to take uninterrupted poſſeſſion of the country as far as Laval, having ſurrounded four thouſand men who were ſent in purſuit of them, and whom they cut in pieces; the ſans-culotte general Olignier, who was ordered to march againſt the royaliſts, and protect the pa⯑triots, [28] having thought it more prudent to keep at ten leagues diſtance.

From Laval they marched to Vitri, a place which was rèpreſented as a moſt advantageous and formidable paſs, of which alſo they took poſſeſſion, as the conventional generaliſſimo had effected its evacuation, though he had every means of reſiſtance, and might have ſtopped the march of the enemy, ſince the place was fortified, had a garriſon of four thouſand men, and was proviſioned for more than a month. This place, which the inhabitants, after the departure of the garriſon, would have defended, if they had not been forbidden, was taken; and the royaliſts, after defeating ſome other corps which were ſent ſucceſſively againſt them, marched on without fur⯑ther reſiſtance to the coaſts through Avranches to Grandville.

Grandville is a ſea-port town on that [29] part of the coaſt which fronts the iſlands of Jerſey and Guernſey, ſtretching north and ſouth, and forming a right angle with the coaſt that goes towards St. Ma⯑loes and Breſt, of which the famous mountain of St. Michel is the point. It is the only port on that coaſt; and the poſſeſſion of it would have given the royaliſts the advantage of immediate communication with their allies, the emi⯑grants and the Engliſh, and the means of ſecuring the moſt effective ſuccour.

As they had paſſed through a large tract of country with ſo little interrup⯑tion, they did not expect much reſiſt⯑ance where the means of making it were ſo few; and therefore concluded they could repulſe the garriſon of Grandville which had marched out to meet them, and make themſelves maſters of that im⯑portant place as eaſily as they had gained the reſt. They took poſſeſſion of the ſuburbs; but when they prepared to ſcale [30] the walls, they found a reſiſtance which they had little expected. The firſt hero that fell was the mayor in the habit of his office, who had taken the command of the principal poſt. The royaliſt ar⯑tillery made great ravages, and the houſes in the ſuburbs afforded the aſſailants conſiderable ſhelter. The beſieged ſet fire to theſe houſes, and the attack be⯑came ſtill more deſperate; the royaliſts were often driven down the ramparts, and the rocks that overhung the town ſtreamed with blood.

This battle laſted near thirty hours; and I have been told by one of my ac⯑quaintance who fought on the republi⯑can ſide, that the ſpectacle was truly ſublime. Not only every man, but every woman and every child, was that day a warrior: the artillery was ſerved by the children, who, forming chains from the arſenal to the ramparts, conveyed the ammunition, while the women were [31] employed in aſſiſting their huſbands, brothers, and fathers, and preventing the flames of the houſes in the ſuburbs from communicating to thoſe in the town.

The royaliſts were at length repulſed with great loſs by this handful of repub⯑licans, and all the important advantages which they reaſonably expected from this expedition failed. They were forced to retreat back to the Loire, and in this retreat they might have been completely cut off: but the cowardly and debaſing genius of fans-culottiſm again preſided; for Roſſignol kept at ſeven leagues diſtance with his army at the moment of the perilous paſſage at Dol; and when the royaliſts had effected it, he brought up his troops, who were completely routed, and driven back to Rennes.

The royaliſt army in their retreat laid fiege to Angers, which was defended [32] bravely by the garriſon, and the inhabi⯑tants, in the abſence of Roſſignol. At Meaux, the royaliſts were defeated with great loſs by Weſterman. Having di⯑vided themſelves into two columns, they attempted to paſs the Loire at Chateau⯑briant and Ancenis; but their good for⯑tune fled when the ſans-culotte general had ceaſed to command. At Ancenis they were again routed with great ſlaughter, and the paſſage of the Loire was effected with a very conſiderable loſs.

The republicans were thus delivered from an apprehenſion of ſeeing the roy⯑aliſts at Paris, which, from the treaſon or ignorance of the generals, they had at one moment fully expected. While Weſterman was purſuing the advantages he had gained on the north ſide of the Loire, the army in the weſt defeated the royaliſts at Sallais, near Chollet; where the heroic Barra, a youth of thirteen years [33] of age, was killed. The iſland of Noir⯑moutier, the key of the inſurgent depart⯑ments on the ſide of the ſea, which had ſerved not only as a depôt, but alſo as the place of retreat for thoſe who, though attached to the cauſe of royalty, did not like to ſhare its dangers, was at⯑tacked; and after a ſevere conflict, in which the conventional troops had to contend with the waves as well as the fire of the enemy, the town was taken, and great quantities of ſtores fell into their hands.

After the capture of the iſland, the ge⯑nerals and repreſentatives, Bourbotte and Turreau, ordered it to be ſurrounded; and a ſtrict examination brought forth a great number of prieſts and other roy⯑aliſts, men and women, chiefly of high rank—the eſſence, as they were called, of the catholic army, who had hid them⯑ſelves in the woods and the rocks from the fury of the conventional ſoldiers. Theſe [34] unhappy fugitives were dragged to the tree of liberty, with general Delbec at their head, where in preſence of the army they were coolly murdered.

LETTER II.

THE inhabitants of Nantes had not long to meditate on the horrors which were approaching, for Carrier returns.

The convention had already decreed, that every city which either gave pro⯑tection to the rebels, or did not repel them with all the means in its power, ſhould be razed to the ground, and the property of its inhabitants be confiſcated to the pro⯑fit of the republic. To exterminate "the royaliſts of the Vendée" it was neceſſary to conquer them; but here the peace⯑able inhabitants of cities were to be de⯑ſtroyed, and the evidence of the crime was only to be found in the conſcience of the executioner. Nantes, ſeated on the Loire, which empties itſelf into the ſea ſome leagues beyond it, was one of [36] the moſt conſiderable and moſt commer⯑cial cities in France. Its inhabitants were rich, and, what is not always the concomitant of riches, were diſtinguiſhed for their diſintereſtneſs and patriotiſm. They had beheld with the ſame horror as every other friend to liberty the ſuc⯑ceſs of the conſpirators of the 31ſt of May, and the tyrants had marked their perſons for vengeance, and their im⯑menſe property for pillage.

A revolutionary committee was firſt appointed to examine into this "ariſto⯑cracy of commerce and wealth;" and this committee, as might have been expected, was compoſed of thoſe whoſe characters ſtood higheſt, in the eſtimation of the re⯑preſentatives, for cruelty or wickedneſs. To give this committee its proper energy, a company of revolutionary ſoldiers was formed, who were to be the ſbirri of the committee, and whoſe occupation was ſufficiently marked by the name they aſ⯑ſumed, [37] which was that of the company of Marat. Thus armed with the decrees of the convention, and having troops of murderers of various denominations at his command, in revolutionary com⯑mittees, popular ſocieties, adminiſtrative bodies, and Maratiſt ſoldiers, Carrier be⯑gan his operations in Nantes on the prieſts who were condemned to baniſhment. Thoſe men were waiting to undergo the puniſhment to which the law condemned them, for obſtinate perſeverance in honeſt ignorance; a puniſhment which it is aſ⯑ſerted the circumſtances of the times re⯑quired. As the law was pronounced, it does not appear that the convention had authoriſed Carrier to change the ſen⯑tence. This, however, he undertook; the prieſts were put on board a lighter which had a ſous-pape, or falſe bottom, and then conducted into the middle of the Loire; where, except two who eſ⯑caped by ſwimming, they were all [38] drowned. Carrier wrote an account of this expedition to the convention, and, with a kind of ſelf-complacent exulta⯑tion, claimed merit for the novelty and effect of the meaſure.—"Quel torrent re⯑volutionnaire que la Loire^*!" The con⯑vention applauded the idea, and ordered Carrier's diſpatches to be inſerted in their gazette, the bulletin.

The committee of public ſafety, though it might think the drowning of refractory prieſts a pleaſant thing, were not perhaps aware that Carrier would take advantage of their good humour. Unfortunately for the inhabitants of Nantes, Carrier miſconſtrued their ap⯑probation as an invitation to proceed in his career; and having, with his ſword drawn, at the tribune harangued the ja⯑cobins of Nantes on their duties, ex⯑plaining and enforcing the inſtructions [39] he had himſelf received, in order to in⯑flame them with the ſame revolutionary zeal, he began to extend his plan of operations. The revolutionary com⯑mittee had determined that a great con⯑ſpiracy exiſted in Nantes, and that the rich, who were ariſtocrates par privilege, were the conſpirators. They ordered accordingly all perſons ſuſpected of having been concerned in this conſpiracy to be arreſted, and to be ſent to Paris to be tried; decreeing, that whoever reſiſted ſhould be ſhot, whoever fled ſhould be declared an emigrant, and ordering all thoſe whoſe names were publiſhed to ſur⯑render themſelves in three days; forbid⯑ding every one, wives, ſiſters, or daugh⯑ters, under ſevere penalties, to ſolicit their releaſe. Three hundred and thirty-two perſons were arreſted on this pretence. About one hundred of them we ſaw brought to Paris in waggons, bound like felons, for the reſt had periſhed from the [40] exceſſive cruelties which they had under⯑gone; and we were made to believe that theſe men, who were diſtinguiſhed in Nantes for their probity and patriotiſm, were rebels of the Vendée whom the re⯑preſentative had ſent up to treat the Pa⯑riſians with a ſpectacle, knowing their preſent taſte for bloody ſights; and it was expected that they would have been ſhot in the plain of Sablons, under the direction of Collot; but this never took place.

In the mean while Carrier ſwelled the revolutionary torrent at Nantes with other noyades, of which it appears that there were twenty-three expeditions. Theſe noyades, or drowning ſcenes, were at firſt ſhrouded in the darkneſs of night; but familiarity with crimes having worn off all ſhame, they were afterwards exe⯑cuted in open day. There was alſo ſome appearance of regard for the ſufferings of theſe unhappy victims in the beginning, [41] ſince they were left ignorant of the fate that awaited them till the moment of execution; believing that they were only going to be transferred to Belle-Iſle, an iſland at the mouth of the river. There was ſomething like mercy alſo in the conſtruction of the drowning-boats, ſince the drawing of a bar of iron in⯑gulphed the victims in an inſtant; and Carrier, in his firſt diſpatches to the con⯑vention, had the modeſty as well as the ingenuity of his prototype Anicetus, who, hiſtory ſays, propoſed this mode to Nero, and furniſhed him with excuſes for drowning his mother^*. But the [42] crimes of theſe monſters being at length naturalized into manners, they grew weary of common murders, and invented new modes of deſtruction. Other veſſels were fitted up for the reception of priſoners, which had various conveniences, among others a ſalle à manger (a dining-room), where Carrier and his committee ſome⯑times feaſted. In theſe veſſels the pri⯑ſoners were confined till a noyade was to take place. At one time eight hun⯑dred perſons of both ſexes, and of dif⯑ferent ages, from fifteen to fourſcore, were precipitated into the river. Where the love of life diſcovered itſelf in theſe unfortunate victims by clinging to the barges, when in the ſtruggle their hands became untied, the murderers amuſed themſelves with cutting them with their ſabres, or knocking them on the head with their poles. Some of thoſe victims were deſtined to die a thouſand deaths; innocent young women were unclothed [43] in the preſence of the monſters; and, to add a deeper horror to this infernal act of cruelty, were tied to young men, and both were cut down with ſabres, or thrown into the river; and this kind of murder was called a republican marriage.

Theſe noyades, where ſimple drown⯑ing was the only ſuffering, might be con⯑ſidered as happy deliverances compared with the ſufferings of thoſe that remained in priſon. The wretched priſoners were heaped on each other in ſuch numbers, that the air became abſolutely peſtilen⯑tial, and the keepers were employed con⯑tinually in removing the dead.

Delicate women, the wives and daugh⯑ters of thoſe who were made priſoners in the royaliſt army, expoſed to the in⯑clemency of the winter in the damp of a dungeon, crowded together upon their ſtraw in order to ſhelter themſelves from the cold; and many a heart-breaking family ſcene preſented itſelf to thoſe [44] whoſe humanity led them to take away the children of royaliſts under thirteen years of age, which the law permitted. A mother with four daughters, of which one was under fourteen, formed one of theſe groups. A citizen of Nantes went into the dungeon to ſee if there was any object on which he might exerciſe his charity. He took up this young girl, crawling for weakneſs at her mother's feet, with the intention of conveying her home; while her ſiſters, being a few years older, were doomed to periſh. But to periſh together now ſeemed their only conſolation; they refuſed to part; and ſome degree of violence was uſed to force away the child, who ſoon after the mur⯑der of her family died of a broken heart.

But noyades were not the only mode of murder: the fuſillades were introduced at Nantes as they had been practiſed at Lyons. Men, women in a ſtate of preg⯑nancy, boys and girls were killed with [45] the bayonet, or ſhot without diſcrimina⯑tion, and without the formality of a ſen⯑tence; and the executions were ſo mul⯑tiplied, that the national guard were em⯑ployed for ſix weeks in burying the per⯑ſons whom they had maſſacred. Among the multitudes deſtined to die, ſome have as it were returned to life, and given us their hiſtory; a few eſcaped by ſwim⯑ming; others recovered after having been ſhot. A young married woman of rank, who was put into a fuſillade with her huſband, although ſhe received three balls in her body, was found alive the next morning by thoſe who came to throw the dead into the pits. She had ſufficient ſtrength to implore their mercy, and they had the humanity to refer her caſe to the commiſſary. The commiſſary at firſt ordered the ſentence to be again put into execution: but falling at his feet ſhe repreſented the injuſtice and cruelty of making her undergo a ſecond death, [46] and that the unſkilfulneſs or negligence of the executioners ought not to ſubject her again to puniſhment. The commiſ⯑ſary was ſoftened, and conſented that her life ſhould be ſpared, provided ſhe wouldb ecome a ſick nurſe in the hoſ⯑pitals, where the perſon who related the anecdote to me ſaw her employed.

Some ſlight forms were obſerved in the execution of the decrees of the con⯑vention in the beginning of theſe maſ⯑ſacres, and the ferocity of Carrier was ſometimes checked by the repreſenta⯑tions of the conſtituted authorities, and ſometimes arreſted by the oppoſition of the judges. Carrier had named two wretches to the office of head execution⯑ers, who had general orders for drowning whenever they had leiſure. The public accuſer, who, though a timid old man, had oppoſed a ſecond general noyade which theſe ruffians were about to make, was ſent for by Carrier, who ſaid to him, [47] "It is you then, you old wretch, who take upon you to oppoſe my orders! Take notice, that if the priſons be not emptied in two hours, I will guillotine you and the whole commiſſion." The poor old man was affrighted, fell ſick inſtantly, and died imprecating curſes on Carrier.

After this leſſon to the judges, no one thought of reſiſting Carrier's revolution⯑ary impulſe. The royaliſts who were made priſoners, and thoſe who laid down their arms, came into Nantes and met with the ſame fate. Pregnant women, who were under the protection of a ſpe⯑cial decree, were murdered, and more than ſix hundred children, formally ex⯑cepted by the law as being under the age of fifteen, were drowned, notwithſtanding the obſervation hazarded by the preſi⯑dent of the tribunal, who was anſwered by the monſter, "All, all without ex⯑ception; [48] there can be no difficulty in the caſe."

Even theſe are but ſlight offences com⯑pared to certain atrocities that are al⯑leged againſt him; the tyrants of an⯑tiquity are "quite ſhorn of their beams;" Caligula, Nero, and all that antient hiſ⯑tory records of ſtrange murders, is ob⯑ſcured in our remembrance by the cruelty of Carrier. Former tyrants and aſſaſſins when compared to him appear but mo⯑derés; and Caligula's famous exclama⯑tion reſpecting the people of Rome is loſt in the affliction of Carrier, when he regretted to his colleague Laingelot, who paſſed through Nantes in his way to Breſt, the limits by which he was con⯑fined in the execution of national juſtice, having only the Loire for the extent of his operations: "Oh, what a happy fel⯑low will you be," he adds, "happier far than I am! You will have the ſea for your [49] expeditions, and a fleet of ſhips at your command!"

This revolutionary, or rather counter-revolutionary, impulſe was not confined to Nantes. The country around was ſub⯑jected to the ſame horrors. Whole com⯑munes were extirpated; and the peace⯑able inhabitants of different places, whom the murderers had aſſembled together, and who had never taken arms or given encouragement to the rebels, were maſ⯑ſacred without diſtinction; women and children, magiſtrates dreſſed in their ſcarfs, going out to meet and welcome the conventional troops; thouſands of citizens under arreſt, inſurgents who had ſurrendered themſelves, peaſants work⯑ing in the fields, all fell alike the victims of this deſolating fury.

The ſcent of blood was become ſo in⯑ſtinctive with thoſe revolutionary miſ⯑ſionaries in the Vendée, that though none of them could raiſe themſelves to [50] Carrier's ſublimity of wickedneſs, there were many who, according to his own declaration^*, practiſed very ſucceſsfully as amateurs.

Of the various calamities inflicted on this unhappy country, my imagination, melancholy as it is, could never furniſh me with images ſtrong enough to paint the horror, nor can any beneficial effect be produced on the mind by dwelling on evils ſo terrible; ſince I believe that the heart grows hard, that the feelings become deadened, by the long contem⯑plation of ſo wide a waſte of ruin. As the wretch who is ſtretched under the hands of torturing executioners is ſaid to feel pain but to a certain point, except [51] when ſome life-ſtring, that has ſubmitted only to the general compreſſion, becomes more poignantly affected by ſome partial application; ſo we hear of noyades, fuſil⯑lades, mitraillades, and guillotinades, with the dullneſs of ſettled ſorrow, unleſs when rouſed to exertion at ſome tale of particular and atrocious horror.

But when the hiſtorian, whoſe faithful pencil muſt trace the hideous features of this Vendean war in all their deformity, ſhall deſcribe ſcenes which I dare not name, let no one, becauſe he may con⯑ſider ſuch crimes as ſcarcely within the verge of human poſſibility, doubt that they have been committed; ſince the events of the laſt five years, which have ſome⯑times led us into regions of hitherto un⯑diſcovered beauty and ſublimity, have alſo dragged our reluctant ſteps into dens of undeſcribed and unknown monſters, whoſe exiſtence we had never till now believed.

LETTER III.

THE committee of public ſafety, having ſecured its permanence in the dictatorſhip through the complaiſance of the convention, which with loud and lively applauſes renewed its powers, for the ſake of form, at the end of each month as they expired, grew bolder in its pro⯑jects, and, not ſatisfied with revolution⯑izing the republic after their own manner, aſſerted that their neighbours ought alſo to be made happy by taſting the ſweets of the ſame ineſtimable liberty. It had ge⯑nerally been underſtood, that the preſent war was the war only of the Engliſh mi⯑niſter; and that the people of England, though well wiſhers to the cauſe of freedom, were not ſufficiently powerful to coun⯑teract the deſigns of the adminiſtration. [53] As long as this opinion of the apathy of the Engliſh prevailed, we had lived in tolerable ſecurity; for it was difficult to perſuade the French, notwithſtanding the experience they had of the late war, that [...] free people would twice waſte its trea⯑ſure and its ſtrength, in ſo ſhort a period, againſt nations ſtruggling into freedom. The treaſon of Toulon, however, awak⯑ened the French from their dream of the bonhommie of the Britiſh nation towards them; and nothing was now talked of but the cowardly and ferocious Engliſh, and marching to Carthage.

In this language more was meant than was obvious to a common obſerver; for it was the buſineſs of the committee of government to work up the people to a ſtrong degree of national hatred, in or⯑der to carry into effect a plan of invaſion which they were meditating, although its impracticability had been demonſtrated by thoſe with whom they adviſed, and who [54] were more converſant on the ſubject than themſelves; and at length they received the fulleſt and moſt ſatisfactory evidence that the Engliſh were not at all inclined to make the experiment to which they were invited. In the mean time the crimes of the Engliſh government were the ſtand⯑ing order of the day at the jacobins; and had it not been for the ſpur given to malignity by theſe declamatory ha⯑rangues, nothing could have been more amuſing than their ſtyle.

One of the moſt diſtinguiſhed of theſe performers in politics was the tragedian of Lyons. "We are now entering," ſays Collot, "into the conſcience of Pitt, into that volcano which vomits forth every crime. We have traverſed this mortiferous and peſtilential lava; let us now march up to the crater, I mean the Engliſh government. If this government was not inherently bad, Pitt could not have found the means [55] of being ſo abominable. I would not put this government into competition with that of France. This would be comparing the exceſs of every vice, with the aſſemblage of every virtue; a government," adds this orator, juſt returned from Lyons reeking with the blood of thouſands of innocent vic⯑tims, "ſuch as Heaven ought to have given to all nature; while the other is vicious, wanting all the virtues which we eſteem, and filled with every thing that is held in abhorrence amongſt us."

Although Robeſpierre had for certain reaſons thrown off his pack, the jacobins, in purſuit of the crimes of the Engliſh government, he did not permit any of them without chaſtiſement to follow too cloſe. One orator propoſed ſending in⯑ſtantly a hundred cannon to eſtabliſh liberty on the banks of the Thames; and, as a preparatory ſtep, to put to death all [56] the remains of the Briſſotine faction, and all the toads of the marſh who were endea⯑vouring to creep up the mountain. Such were the denominations of the ſeventy-three impriſoned deputies, and thoſe of the republicans who ſtill remained in the convention. As Robeſpierre had not been conſulted, there was an audacity in the propoſition which provoked his warmeſt indignation. He admitted that the propoſition was extraordinarily po⯑pular, and revolutionary to the twentieth degree; but, as a puniſhment for its raſhneſs, he condemned the ſpeaker to an excluſion from the ſociety; as well as another member who took up his de⯑fence, and talked of the deſpotiſm of opinion. Robeſpierre immediately mark⯑ed him on the ſpot with the ſeal of re⯑probation, by declaring, as a proof of the culprit's criminality, that, when a jury⯑man of the revolutionary tribunal, he had [57] given his verdict in favour of Miranda, who was known to be the great and firm ſupport of the Briſſotine faction.

The jacobins were aſtoniſhed that ſo well-informed a nation as the Engliſh ſhould be reduced to ſo pitiable a con⯑dition as that of being ruled by mon⯑ſters and volcanos; and this wonder grew till Robeſpierre, who had hitherto kept ſilence except when a member be⯑came ultra-revolutionary, told them they were all in the wrong. "It is to no purpoſe," ſays he, "to talk to the En⯑gliſh about their government, or attempt to make them better; for you are all very much deceived if you think that either the morals or underſtanding of the Engliſh nation are at all to be compared with the French. They are two hun⯑dred years behind you, and hate you with a very conſtant and perfect hatred. If therefore you wiſh to inform them, you muſt accommodate yourſelves to [58] their incapacity, and adapt your lan⯑guage to their comprehenſion^*."

Robeſpierre put an end to this jaco⯑binical diſcuſſion, ſo kindly meant for the information of their unhappy neighbours, [59] upon ſeeing new dangers preſſing round him which it was neceſſary for him to make the order of the day. He had [60] arrived to ſuch a point of deſpotiſm in the ſociety, that thoſe who had any cou⯑rage were diſpoſed to revolt, and thoſe who were cowards were in a conſtant [61] ſtate of terror. He had faſhioned the ſociety to his own purpoſes by an epura⯑tion, in which all thoſe who were not deemed to have opinions conformable to his own, or energy ſufficient to execute great deſigns, were excluded. But it was not without murmur that he was ſuffered to bear his faculties ſo imperiouſly: there were ſome who looked back to their high eſtate with ſhame, that ſo contemp⯑tible a tyrant ſhould have outrun their popularity.

Among the follies of the day were the reports of Barrere; who, as he was pro⯑feſſedly the lacquey of the tyrants, was appointed to be their trumpeter at the tribune. His reports were ſo extravagant, and ſo full of falſehood, that they at length became proverbial; and when we meant to expreſs our diſapprobation of any thing at once ſilly and atrocious, we were accuſtomed to obſerve that it was a [62] carmagnol^* à la Barrere. "For a free people to have peace," ſays he, "the only way is to exterminate all deſpots. The French republic can only ſecure peace by dictating that peace to the world; then it will be laſting. Let us take a view of the forces in array againſt us—Look at them—there are the Engliſh—the Iriſh—the Scotch—the Hanoverians" (He might have added the Shetlanders, and the people of the Iſle of Man)—"Auſtrians, Bohemians, Hungarians, Flemiſh"—(He might have enumerated the people of the Black Foreſt, and the prince of Furſtenburg)—"Neapolitans, Piedmonteſe, Italians, and Papiſts, &c." In this mode of enumerating, Barrere might have counted enemies

[63] and a plain man, who had no great ſkill in thoſe matters, would have fallen into the ſame error as the hoſt, who being called up on a dark night by a Spaniſh traveller, and informed that don John-Jerome-Franciſco-Pedro, with a mul⯑titude of other chriſtian names, ſur⯑names, and titles, was arrived, anſwered from his chamber-window, that they muſt go on to the town at a few miles diſtance, for that he had not room for a twentieth part of the company.

The commune of Paris, who had hi⯑therto met with no oppoſition to the va⯑riety of reformation which they had pro⯑poſed, who had co-operated in the over⯑throw of government on the 31ſt of May, and who had ſince, of their own autho⯑rity, annihilated the religion of the country, conceived that they might with equal facility take the regulation of both church and ſtate into their own hands, and diſburthen the convention of the [64] weight. They thought that thoſe who had contributed to gain the victory ought to ſhare in the ſpoils; they beheld with uneaſineſs the growing influence of their accomplices in the convention, and re⯑ſolved not to ſuffer the continuance of this uſurpation without remonſtrance. The ambitious members of the com⯑mune were not ſupported upon this oc⯑caſion by their allies the jacobins; for Peyreira, Proly, and Defieux, who had hitherto influenced that club, had now objects in view more gratifying to their feelings than diſputes about the diviſion of ſupreme power, ſince they had gain⯑ed a ſufficient portion to enable them to conduct the operations of that ſhare of the government which they had taken under their more immediate protection, which was the regulation of the finances.

Robeſpierre, whoſe aim was permanent authority, did not ſuffer the depredations of his jacobin agents to paſs unnoticed. [65] He found that the ſtability of his govern⯑ment would be endangered if ſuch en⯑croachments on his adminiſtration were ſuffered to continue; and accordingly took a revolutionary meaſure, and put them into priſon as dilapidators of the public fortune. Among theſe dilapida⯑tors were the moſt active perſecutors of the fallen party of the Gironde. The chiefs of the municipality, who had hi⯑therto been the agents of Robeſpierre, were alarmed at the impriſonment of their co-adjutors, the chiefs of the jaco⯑bins; and did not well brook returning to their primitive inſignificancy, and leaving their accomplices in tranquil poſſeſſion of the power they had helped them to uſurp. The firſt ſymptom of rebellion was the denunciation which Hebert made againſt Barrere at the ja⯑cobins'. It was not ſufficient to lull the nation into deſpotiſm by promiſing it the freeſt of all poſſible conſtitutions; [66] the conqueſt of all the kingdoms of the world, and kings brought in fetters to Paris, were alſo promiſed with as much facility to the good people of the repub⯑lic, as the knight of La Mancha diſpoſed of governments and iſlands to his truſty ſquire. Among other ſplendid aſſur⯑ances, Barrere had proclaimed from the tribune, that the war in the Vendée ſhould be finiſhed on the 1ſt of Novem⯑ber. To ſave his credit, the prophet appeared at the tribune at the ap⯑pointed time; and becauſe the royal⯑iſts were marching victoriouſly from the Vendée acroſs the country, to the northern coaſts, he confidently aſſured the convention that the Vendée exiſted no longer. Hebert's aſſertion was well founded, that at the moment when Bar⯑rere pronounced their deſtruction they were in greater force than ever; but as to doubt the reports, the infallibility, or the reaſoning of the committee of pub⯑lic ſafety was an act of treaſon againſt [67] the republic, this crime of Hebert was not forgotten. The commune of Paris perceived that the committee of public ſafety had obtained an abſolute power over the convention, and took meaſures to provide againſt it, by advertiſing a ſyſtem directly oppoſite to that of the committee, which they judged would be more acceptable to the people, and eſta⯑bliſh their own popularity. They, who had been the contrivers of every inſur⯑rection; who had prompted to every mur⯑der, and had demanded at the bar of the convention that terror ſhould continue to be the order of the day; that all prieſts whatever ſhould be diſmiſſed from all functions civil and military; that the priſoners of the Temple, the children of the late king, ſhould be ſent to the common priſons on the ground of equality, and that all perſons who had gone to their country houſes ſhould be ordered, on pain of being ſuſ⯑pected, [68] to come into town, in order pro⯑bably to be maſſacred more conveniently; became at once mild and tender-hearted. "There exiſts," ſays Chaumette^*, the procureur of the commune, "a conſpi⯑racy to divide patriots. We and the mountain-members of the convention have been from the beginning of the re⯑volution the firmeſt ſupports of liberty, and it is alſo againſt us that calumny di⯑rects its principal efforts. The revolu⯑tionary committees, led aſtray by perfidi⯑ous men, are often the inſtruments of theſe abominable machinations. We muſt aſſemble the members in a general coun⯑cil; we muſt tell them that it is time for deſpotiſm to ceaſe; for the father no longer to demand in vain the liberty of his ſon [69] unjuſtly torn from him; the huſband that of his wife, and the brother that of his brother. Let us teach tyrants that man is the citizen of his country, and not the ſlave of deſpotiſm." The procureur in conſequence demanded that ten mem⯑bers of each revolutionary committee ſhould be called to the general council, to labour conjointly with the committee of public ſafety, and that two members only ſhould remain in each committee to watch over the execution of the mea⯑ſures to be taken. The ſenſibility of the committee of public ſafety was leſs awakened than that of the commune by Chaumette's pathetic eloquence. One of the members talked of Brutus and his ſons, and another remarked on the dan⯑ger of rival powers, and invited the convention to annul the decree of the commune. The convention, finding one tyranny ſufficiently burdenſome, imme⯑diately obeyed; and the commune, like [70] the reſt of the republic, ſubmitted to the yoke.

The commune was not the only rival with which Robeſpierre had to contend; for though a feeling of common danger had produced between men who were diſcordant in every thing but wicked⯑neſs, an alliance—when that danger was paſt, there was no tie remaining by which they might continue to be united. It is the puniſhment of tyrants and villains to live in continual terror of each other; and this was the fate of thoſe who had con⯑ſpired to overturn the republic, and who had deſtroyed thoſe virtuous friends of liberty by whom it was founded. Robeſ⯑pierre feared, that the ſame means which he, with the aid of the commune of Pa⯑ris, had employed againſt the Gironde, might be again put in practice to over⯑throw himſelf; and as he ſaw that the commune aſpired to independence, and had already given ſigns of an ambitious [71] ſpirit, he dreaded leſt ſome rival might ſtart up, who, with more generoſity and larger promiſes, might puſh him from his ſeat. This rival he ſaw in the per⯑ſon of Danton, who, with greater talents than Robeſpierre, and with a mind ſomewhat leſs atrocious, had from natu⯑ral indolence neglected to cultivate that ſort of popularity which would ſoon have raiſed him to be the chief of this cabal. Of this party were Camille Deſmoulins, the author of the libel againſt the Gi⯑ronde, which was publiſhed at the time as an addreſs from Paris to the depart⯑ments; Fabre d'Eglantine, who was an intriguer, with more addreſs and leſs ho⯑neſty than Camille; La Croix, who was a wretch covered with crimes—venal, baſe, and treacherous; a compound of the moſt ſhocking vices; who had been ſucceſſively paid by the court and the foreign powers, and whoſe ſervices were at the diſpoſal of thoſe who could beſt [72] reward them. There were others of leſs note, ſuch as Philippeaux, who had been a mountaineer of the lower region, and who, though ſharing in the iniquity of his party, had been leſs active than the reſt in the commiſſion of crimes. He had incurred the ſuſpicion of honeſty from the account he publiſhed of the iniquity of the war in the weſtern de⯑partments; but he ſtrongly contended for his ſhare in the general villany, as the friend of Marat, and the murderer of the Gironde. Theſe men had only hinted diſapprobation at the exceſs of the tyranny which was then exerciſed. But Robeſpierre collected the whiſpers of the party before any plan was actually arranged, and declared loudly, though myſteriouſly, both in the convention and the jacobins', that the republic was in danger from the combinations of ſedi⯑tious and perverſe men; whom he re⯑preſented as new men, patriots of yeſter⯑day, [73] who were eager to lay hold of the pillars of the revolution, and, by climbing to the height of the moun⯑tain, precipitate thoſe who had hitherto ſat there with ſo much ſucceſs. The height of the mountain, was another figure for the ſummit of his kingdom, where many of thoſe whom he was about to accuſe had long aſpired to the loftieſt ſeats, which it was impoſſible all could obtain;

but here, as the ſupremacy was to be un⯑divided, no two parties could exiſt on equal terms at the ſame time. The par⯑ty of Danton had loſt much of its influ⯑ence with the people by the indolence of the chief, and the rapacity of the ſubal⯑terns; while Robeſpierre had neglected no means to obtain that dominion on which he had perſeveringly bent his [74] mind. Under Robeſpierre's banners the great majority of the committee had enliſted; but his ſworn and ſacred allies were St. Juſt and Couthon, whoſe ſouls were of adamantine temper. Barrere had not yet taken all his degrees in atro⯑city, being only their lacquey, and hav⯑ing nothing very original in wickedneſs, except the phraſeology he made uſe of in its juſtification.

Robeſpierre now thought that it was neceſſary to his ſafety to be diſencum⯑bered of the faction of the commune, and the faction of Danton. It was not difficult to bring a thouſand charges againſt them, of which one alone before the great tribunal of national juſtice would have been ſufficient to have directed the ſword of national vengeance; but as the accuſers could proffer none of thoſe charges without criminating themſelves, they had recourſe to the expedient of their being accomplices of the faction [75] de l'etranger^*, which was a moſt inex⯑hauſtible ſource for the fabrication of all indictments and bills for conſpiracies. When the committee of public ſafety had marked their victims, it was neceſ⯑ſary to inform the convention, that they were going to prepare the ſacrifice; not that they feared any oppoſition or re⯑monſtrance, but for the ſake of regula⯑rity. The convention, therefore, was inſtructed by St. Juſt, that a conſpiracy was framed by foreigners, who were about to commit a number of horrible things, ſtarve, plunder, and murder the good people of the republic; that this faction had already overthrown religion and morality, and was about to form a new ſect of immorality, and the love of ſenſual enjoyments, from which innocence and virtue had every thing to dread; that the great directors of theſe machi⯑nations [76] of the Engliſh court, were fo⯑reigners then at Paris, who had corrupt⯑ed the agents of government; and that it was neceſſary they ſhould all be pu⯑niſhed together.

The convention was ſeized with hor⯑ror at hearing thoſe things, and with the ſame unanimity with which they had ap⯑plauded Carrier's revolutionary wit, de⯑creed, as their committee ordered, that whoever, by any act whatever, ſhould at⯑tempt to degrade, deſtroy, or put obſta⯑cles in the way of the national conven⯑tion, ſhould be puniſhed with death.

The faction of Hebert, Chaumette, and Danton, were led ſucceſſively to the guillotine, as I have before related.

In order to facilitate the clearing of the priſons, and to put in force a law juſt before paſſed, that the property of all perſons who ſhould be deemed enemies of the revolution ſhould be confiſcated to the profit of the republic, and that the [77] criminals ſhould be confined in priſon till the peace, when they were to be baniſhed for ever; the convention decreed, that ſix popular commiſſions ſhould be form⯑ed to try thoſe perſons ſpeedily, and ſhorten the labour of the revolutionary tribunal. Other decrees of the ſame co⯑lour paſſed at this period, ſuch as mak⯑ing the perſon who ſhould conceal a con⯑ſpirator liable to the ſame puniſhment. All theſe decrees the convention paſſed, on the ſimple propoſition of the com⯑mittee, to whoſe fatherly protection the ſtate was in full confidence conſigned.

Had the vengeance or jealouſy of the tyrants been directed only againſt their own accomplices; had only their aſſo⯑ciates in wickedneſs, their Heberts and their Dantons fallen, though the accu⯑ſations on which their condemnation was founded were abſurd and ground⯑leſs, there was no one who would not have rejoiced at thoſe ſteps towards na⯑tional [78] deliverance. But theſe acts of juſtice were very rare, while thoſe of murder were increaſing every day. Among the maſs of victims which at this period were ſacrificed were the farmers⯑general of France. Theſe men had never been favourites with the people at any period; their profeſſion was in itſelf un⯑popular, though I have never heard that any of the perſons who ſuffered had been guilty of any acts of oppreſſion not al⯑lowed by the law. Theſe men were ac⯑cuſed of various crimes, but none wore a more heinous appearance than a plot which, it was aſſerted, they had formed againſt the health of the citizens in pre⯑paring and vending bad ſnuff. There was little hope that, when the guillotine was the miniſter of finance, farmers-ge⯑neral could eſcape: all were guilty of poſſeſſing riches; all therefore periſhed.

The municipality of Sedan was led to death en maſs, at the ſame period. They [79] were accuſed of being partizans of La Fayette at the epocha of the 10th of Au⯑guſt. Ignorant of the events which had been paſſing in Paris, and under mili⯑tary conſtraint, they had for a few days ſupported La Fayette's pretenſions; but they ſoon diſcovered their error, and ac⯑cepted the amneſty that was offered them. No new cauſe of impeachment could be brought againſt them except their great wealth, on account of which they were ſent to the tribunal at Paris; where forty of them were condemned to die. Sedan was famous for its manufactories, and theſe men were the proprietors of the chief eſtabliſhments. Their wealth, while it circulated throughout Europe, fur⯑niſhed food to thouſands who were now reduced to want, and their own hitherto opulent families were devoted to beg⯑gary and ruin.

The tyranny of theſe monſters was not the only evil with which the people of [80] France had to ſtruggle. Famine was preſſing on with haſty ſtrides. The law of the maximum had not only driven away the foreign merchant, but alſo kept at a diſtance the dealer, who was accuſ⯑tomed to provide for the daily returning wants of the inhabitants. The grazier no longer drove his oxen to Paris, where the maximum, on entering the barriers, diminiſhed half their value; nor could the butcher furniſh meat, when the maxi⯑mum allowed him but half the purchaſe money of the cattle. Des caremes ci⯑viques^*, and other revolutionary mea⯑ſures of the like ſort, were recommended to the faſting multitude; but one wag, more indignant than the reſt, painted well the ſtate of want and cruelty to which Paris was then abandoned, by writing on the pedeſtal of the ſtatue which was placed on the ſpot of the pub⯑lic [81] executions: ^*Il n'y a de boucherie à Paris, que ſur cette place.

This melancholy period was the full completion of that prophetic moment when Vergniaud poured out his eloquent ſoul againſt thoſe murderers, in his fa⯑mous ſpeech on the trial of Lewis XVI. "And ye, induſtrious citizens, who have made the revolution; ye, whoſe ſacri⯑fices are multiplied every day in propor⯑tion to the wants of your country; what will become of you? What will be your reſources? What hands will wipe away your tears? Who will give comfort to your families? Will you go and ſeek for your pretended friends? Ah, rather fly from them! I will tell you what they will anſwer, when you ſhall aſk them for bread. They will ſay, "Go to the charnel-houſes, and tear from the earth the palpitating limbs of the corpſes which [82] we have there heaped together." Blood and corpſes—theſe are all they will have to offer you! "You ſhudder, my fel⯑low citizens; O! my country, I call thee to witneſs the efforts which I make to ſnatch thee from the horrible criſis into which theſe men would plunge thee!" But his prophetic ſpirit failed, when he aſſured his auditors that thoſe days of mourning would never arrive. "Thoſe aſſaſſins are too cowardly," ſays he; "thoſe little Mariuses, grovelling in the mud of the marſh, where fled that con⯑ſpirator, who had at leaſt ſome virtues." Vergniaud was miſtaken: the modern chiefs had indeed leſs courage than Ma⯑rius, but the citizens of Paris were more cowardly than the citizens of Rome.

LETTER IV.

THE cities of Paris and Lyons, and the extenſive department of the Ven⯑dée, were not the only ſcenes of hor⯑ror which France exhibited during the tyranny of Robeſpierre; alas, there was ſcarcely a valley of that deſolated coun⯑try, "whoſe flowerets were not bruiſ⯑ed with the tread of hoſtile paces!" Robeſpierre could not have ſo long maintained his iron ſceptre, had he not found, to uſe the words of Shakeſpeare,

while Carrier ravaged the country of the weſt, and Collot d'Herbois laid the [84] opulent city of the eaſt in aſhes, Le Bon hung like a deſtroying vulture over the north, feaſting his ſavage ſoul with the ſight of mangled carcaſes; and Maignet conſumed the lovely villages of the ſouth in the flames of a general conflagration. The ſcene of Maignet's proconſulate was the departments of Vaucluſe, and the mouth of the Rhone—thoſe celebrated regions for ever dear to the lovers of the elegant arts, where, cheering the gloom of gothic barbariſm, to uſe the language of Oſſian, "the light of the ſong aroſe;" where the Troubadours ſtrung their early harps, and where the immortal Petrarch pour⯑ed forth his impaſſioned ſtrains. Di⯑vine poet! no more ſhall the unhappy lover ſeek for conſolation in ſhedding delicious tears on the brink of that fountain where thou haſt wept for Laura!—no more ſhall he haunt with [85] penſive enthuſiaſm that ſolitary valley, thoſe craggy rocks, thoſe hanging woods, and torrent-ſtreams, where thou haſt wandered with congenial feelings, and to which thy tender complaints have given everlaſting renown!—thoſe en⯑chanting dreams, thoſe dear illuſions have for ever vaniſhed—that delicious country, the pride of France, the gar⯑den of Europe, the claſſical haunt of Petrarch no longer preſents the delight⯑ful images of beauty, of poetry, of paſ⯑ſion; the magical ſpell is broken, the ſoothing charm is diſſolved; the fairy ſcenes have been polluted, the wizard bowers profaned; the orange-groves are deſpoiled of their aromatic ſweetneſs; the waters are tinged with blood; the hollow moans of calamity iſſue from the caverns, and the ſhrieks of deſpair re⯑echo from the cliffs; the guillotine has ariſen amidſt thoſe conſecrated ſhades where love alone had reared its altars!—[86] no longer with the name of Vaucluſe is aſſociated the idea of Petrarch; that of Maignet, the deſtroying Maignet, preſents itſelf to the ſhuddering imagina⯑tion, and the aſtoniſhed ſoul ſtarts back with horror—

One of the firſt acts of Maignet, upon his arrival in the department of Vau⯑cluſe, was the deſtruction of the village of Bedouin, ſituated in a country of the moſt romantic beauty, and where the benign climate foſters all the rich productions of ſummer, and forms a ſtriking contraſt to the eternal ſnows which cover the mountain of Ventoux, at the foot of which the village is placed.

A ſmall tree of liberty which had [87] been planted on a ſolitary ſpot near Bedouin, was, during the night, torn from the ground by ſome wretches who knew that this incident would furniſh a pretext for pillage and devaſtation. At break of day the very perſons who were the perpetrators of this act, one of whom was the preſident of the popular ſociety, ſounded a general alarm, and accuſed the guiltleſs inhabitants of Bedouin of the ſacrilege committed againſt the hal⯑lowed ſymbol of freedom.

Revolutionary troops were inſtantly ſummoned to carry fire and ſword through the village and territory of Be⯑douin. A municipal commiſſion was im⯑mediately organized by Maignet, which preſented itſelf wherever there was the hope of ſpoil, ſpreading every where deſolation and death. Five hundred habitations were delivered to the flames; the fruits of the harveſt were conſumed, and the mandate of Maignet, fatal as the [88] fabled wand of an evil magician, ſtruck the rich and luxuriant ſoil with ſudden ſterility. The flouriſhing manufactures of Bedouin ſhared the fate of its deſola⯑ted fields; and all that was ſaved from the general wreck were the treaſures ſpread by the fruitful ſilk worm upon the tops of the trees by which it is nouriſhed. A tribunal of blood was formed by the order of Maignet; every day the de⯑ſtined number of victims were marked by the public accuſer; and the inhabi⯑tants, who were unable to name the guilty perſons, were all involved in one proſcription. Thoſe who eſcaped the knife of the guillotine ſought for ſhelter in the depths of caverns, after the conflagration of their habitations, on the ruins of which placards were fixed, forbidding any perſon to approach the ſpot. The hollow cliffs re-echoed the moans of the widow and the orphan. Two hundred and eighty young men of [89] Bedouin who had flown to the frontier even before the requiſition in order to de⯑fend their country, in vain diſpatch ſuc⯑ceſſive letters, enquiring with fond ſoli⯑citude after their parents. Thoſe gal⯑lant young ſoldiers will return to their native village, their brows bound with the laurels of valour. Alas! they will find their native village but one ſad heap of ruins!—in vain they will call upon the tender names of father, of mother, of ſiſter:—a melancholy voice will ſeem to iſſue from the earth that covers them, and ſigh, they are no more! For thoſe victorious warriors no car of triumph is prepared; no mother's tears of tranſport ſhall hail the bleſſed mo⯑ment of their return; no father ſhall claſp them to his boſom with exulting joy, proud of their heroic deeds. Ah, no! their toils, their dangers, and their generous ſacrifices ſhall find no recom⯑penſe in the ſweetneſs of domeſtic af⯑fection, [90] in the ſoothing bliſs which, after abſence, belongs to home!—alas! their homes are levelled with the ground; they will find no ſpot upon which to repoſe their wearied limbs but the graves of their murdered parents.—

The village of Bedouin was too con⯑fined a ſphere for the deſtroying genius of Maignet. His thirſt of blood was not yet allayed, his taſte for deſolation was not yet gratified. A wider ſcene of ruin fired his imagination, and his crea⯑tive genius furniſhed the committee of public ſafety with a model for the law of the 22d of Prairial, which baniſhed all judicial forms from the revolutionary tribunal of Paris. Maignet, after the deſtruction of Bedouin, cauſed what he termed a popular commiſſion to be erect⯑ed at Orange, for the purpoſe of trying all the counter-revolutioniſts of the de⯑partments of Vaucluſe, and the mouth of the Rhone, without any written evi⯑dence, [91] and without a jury. "Twelve or fifteen thouſand perſons are impriſoned in thoſe departments," ſays Maignet, in a letter to Couthon; "if I were to exe⯑cute the decree which orders all conſpi⯑rators to be brought to Paris, it would require an army to conduct them, and they muſt be billeted like ſoldiers upon the road." Maignet therefore obtained the ſanction of the committee of public ſafety, which was given without the conſent of the convention, to his plan of forming a popular commiſſion at Orange.

The committee of public ſafety named the judges, who by their conduct juſtified the diſcernment with which they were choſen, and proceeded with revo⯑lutionary rapidity in their work of death. "You know," ſays the ſecretary of the commiſſion, in a letter to Payan, "the ſituation of Orange; the guillotine is placed in the front of the mountain, and it ſeems as if the heads in falling paid it [92] the homage it deſerves." Sometimes however the majority of the judges of Orange complain in their letters of two of their colleagues, whoſe conſciences had not altogether attained the height of the revolution. Faurety, the preſident of the commiſſion, ſays in a letter to Payan, "Ragot, Feruex and myſelf are au pas;^* Roman Fouvoſa is a good creature, but an adherer to forms, and a little off the revolutionary point which he ought to touch. Meillerit, my fourth colleague, is good for nothing, abſolutely good for nothing in the place he occupies; he is ſometimes diſpoſed to ſave counter-revo⯑lutionary prieſts; he muſt have proofs, as at the ordinary tribunals of the antient ſyſ⯑tem."—Thoſe troubleſome ſcruples of [93] two of the judges were however ſo com⯑pletely over-ruled by the majority of their colleagues, that the departments of Vau⯑cluſe and the mouth of the Rhone be⯑came the ſcenes of the moſt horrible out⯑rages againſt humanity. Multitudes had already periſhed by the murderous com⯑miſſion of Orange, and multitudes in the gloom of priſons awaited the ſame fate, when the fall of Robeſpierre ſtopped the torrent of human blood.

Amidſt the maſs of far-ſpread evil, amidſt the groans of general calamity, no doubt many a ſigh of private ſorrow has never reached the ear of ſympathy, and many a victim has fallen unpitied and unknown. Some of the martyrs of Maignet's tyranny have, however, found a "ſad hiſtorian of the penſive plain;" and the fate of Monſieur de M [...]'s family, which I have heard related much in detail by an old female ſervant who was the companion of their misfortunes, [94] is not the leaſt affecting of thoſe tales of ſorrow.

M. de M [...], formerly a noble, lived with his ſon an only child at Mar⯑ſeilles, where he was generally reſpected, and where during the progreſs of the revolution he had acted the part of a firm and enlightened patriot. After the fatal events of the 31ſt of May, he became ſuſpected of what was called federaliſm by the jacobin party, which uſurped the power in that city, and puniſhed with im⯑priſonment or death all thoſe who had honourably proteſted againſt the tyranny of the mountain faction. M. M [...] was warned of the danger by a friend time enough to fly from the city, accom⯑panied only by an old female ſervant who entreated to ſhare the fortune of her maſter. His wife died ſome years before the revolution, and his ſon, an amiable an accompliſhed young man of twenty-four years of age, had a few weeks [95] before his father's flight been called upon by the firſt requiſition, and had joined the army of the Pyrenees.

M. de M [...], after wandering as far as his infirmities would permit, for although only in his ſixty-third year his frame was much debilitated by a long courſe of ill health, took refuge in a ſolitary habita⯑tion at a few leagues diſtance from Ari⯑quon, and in one of the wildeſt parts of that romantic country. The mountains ſeem to cloſe the ſcene upon the traveller, till by a narrow cleft it again opens into a ſmall valley, where this little hermi⯑tage, for ſuch was the aſpect of the dwelling, was placed. This unfrequent⯑ed valley was rich with paſturage, and bounded by lofty hills, wooded cliffs, and in ſome parts by large groteſque rocks with ſharp peaks, that roſe above the foliage of the hanging foreſts. Not far from this ruſtic habitation a clear torrent rolls with no ſcanty ſtream down [96] a bold rock, into which its fall had worn grots and caverns, which were luxuriouſ⯑ly decorated with ſhrubs for ever watered by the ſpray. The torrent not falling from a very conſiderable height, pro⯑duced ſounds more ſoothing than noiſy, and without having the power of exciting the ſenſation of ſublimity, awakened that of penſive pleaſing melancholy. This ſequeſtered valley, rich in the wild graces of nature, had eſcaped the deco⯑rations of French art, and no jets d'eaux, clipped trees, and "alleys who have brothers," deformed its ſolitary receſſes. Far above, and at ſome diſtance, aroſe the lofty mountain of Ventoux, covered with its eternal ſnows; that mountain which Petrarch climbed in ſpite of the ſteep rocks that guard its aſcent, and from the ſummit of which he gazed upon the Alps, the boundary of his native country, and ſighed; or caſt his looks upon the waves of the Mediterranean [97] which bathe Marſeilles; and daſh them⯑ſelves againſt Aignes-Mortes; while he ſaw the rapid Rhone flowing majeſtically along the valley, and the clouds rolling beneath his feet.

Such was the ſcene where M. de M [...] ſought for refuge, and where he ſhelter⯑ed himſelf from the rage of his ferocious perſecutors. He had ſoon after the an⯑guiſh of hearing that his brother, who had a place in the adminiſtration of one of the ſouthern departments, and who had taken an active part on the ſide of the Gironde, had periſhed on the ſcaffold. M. de M [...] found means to inform his ſiſter-in-law of the place of his re⯑treat, to which he conjured her to haſten with her daughter, and ſhare the little property which he had reſcued from the general wreck of his fortune. His old ſervant Marianne, who was the bearer of this meſſage, returned, accompanied by his niece: her mother was no more: ſhe [98] had ſurvived only a few weeks the death of her huſband. The interview between mademoiſelle Adelaide de M [...] and her uncle produced thoſe emotions of overwhelming ſorrow that ariſe at the fight of objects which intereſt our affec⯑tions after we have ſuſtained any deep calamity; in thoſe moments the paſt ruſhes on the mind with uncontrollable vehemence; and mademoiſelle de M [...], after having long embraced her uncle with an agony that choked all utterance, at length pronounced, in the accents of deſpair, the names of father and of mother.

M. de M [...] endeavoured to ſupply to his unfortunate niece the place of the parents ſhe had loſt, and forgot his own evils in this attempt to ſooth the affliction of this intereſting mourner, who at nine⯑teen years of age, in all the bloom of beauty, was the prey of deep and ſettled melancholy. She had too much ſenſi⯑bility [99] not to feel his tender cares, and often reſtrained her tears in his preſence becauſe they gave him pain. When thoſe tears would no longer be ſup⯑preſſed, ſhe wandered out alone, and, ſeating herſelf on ſome fragment of rock, ſoothed by the murmurs of the hollow winds and moaning waters, indulged her grief without control. In one of thoſe lonely rambles, ſacred to her ſorrows, ſhe was awakened from melancholy muſing by the ſudden appearance of her couſin, the ſon of Mr. de M [...], who, after having repeatedly expoſed his life during a long and perilous campaign in the ſervice of his country, returned—to find his home deſerted and his father an exile. Such were the rewards which the gallant defenders of liberty received from the hands of tyrants. The young man flew to his father's retreat, where the firſt object that met his eyes was his lovely couſin, whom he had a few [100] months before beheld in all the pride of youthful beauty; her cheek fluſhed with the gay ſuffuſion of health, and her eye ſparkling with pleaſure. That cheek was now covered with fixed paleneſs, and that eye was dimmed with tears; but made⯑moiſelle de M [...] had never appeared to him ſo intereſting as in this mo⯑ment.

Two young perſons placed together in ſuch peculiar circumſtances, muſt have had hearts inſenſible indeed, had they conceived no attachment for each other. The ſon of M. de M [...] and Adelaide, who both poſſeſſed an uncom⯑mon ſhare of ſenſibility, ſoon felt, that while all beyond the narrow cleft which ſeparated the little valley from the reſt of the world was miſery and diſorder, whatever could give value to exiſtence was to be found within its ſavage boun⯑dary, in that reciprocal affection which ſoothed the evils of the paſt, and ſhed [101] a ſoft and cheering ray over the gloom of the future. The ſcene in which they were placed was peculiarly calculated to cheriſh the illuſions of paſſion; not merely from diſplaying thoſe ſimple and roman⯑tic beauties the contemplation of which ſoftens while it elevates the affections—it had alſo that local charm which endears to minds of taſte and ſentiment ſpots which have been celebrated by the powers of genius. Petrarch, the tender, the immortal Petrarch, had trod thoſe very valleys, had climbed thoſe very rocks, had wandered in thoſe very woods—and the two young perſons, who both underſtood Italian, when they read together the melodious ſtrains of that di⯑vine poet, found themſelves tranſported into new regions, and forgot for a while that revolutionary government exiſted. From thoſe dreams, thoſe delightful il⯑luſions, they were awakened by a letter which a friend and fellow-ſoldier of young de M [...] conveyed to him, in which [102] he conjured him to return immediately to the army, if he would ſhun being claſſed among the ſuſpected or the pro⯑ſcribed.

Young de M [...] conſidered the de⯑fence of his country as a ſacred duty which he was bound to fulfil. He inſtant⯑ly prepared to depart. He bid adieu to his father and Adelaide with tears wrung from a bleeding heart, and tore him⯑ſelf away with an effort which it required the exertion of all his fortitude to ſuſ⯑tain. After having paſſed the cleft which encloſed the valley, he again turned back to gaze once more on the ſpot which contained all his treaſure. Adelaide, after his departure, had no conſolation but in the ſad yet dear indulgence of tender recollections; in ſhedding tears over the paths they had trod, over the books they had read together. Alas, this unfortu⯑nate young lady had far other pangs to ſuffer than the tender repinings of ab⯑ſence from a beloved object! Some weeks [103] after the departure of her lover, the departments of Vaucluſe and the Mouth of the Rhone were deſolated by Maig⯑net. Two proſcribed victims of his ty⯑ranny, who were the friends of M. de M [...], and knew the place of his re⯑treat, ſought for an aſylum in his dwell⯑ing. M. de M [...] received his fugitive friends with affectionate kindneſs. But a few days after their arrival their re⯑treat was diſcovered by the emiſſaries of Maignet; the narrow paſs of the valley was guarded by ſoldiers; the houſe was encompaſſed by a military force; and M. de M [...] was ſummoned to de⯑part with the conſpirators whom he had dared to harbour, in order to appear with them before the popular commiſ⯑ſion eſtabliſhed at Orange. This laſt ſtroke his unhappy niece had no power to ſuſtain. All the wounds of her ſoul were ſuddenly and rudely torn open; and altogether overwhelmed by this un⯑expected, [104] this terrible calamity, which filled up the meaſure of her afflictions, her reaſon entirely forſook her. With frantic agony ſhe knelt at the feet of him who commanded the troop; ſhe im⯑plored, ſhe wept, ſhe ſhrieked; then ſtarted up and hung upon her uncle's neck, preſſing him wildly in her arms. Some of the ſoldiers propoſed conducting her alſo to the tribunal; but the leader of the band, whether touched by her diſtreſs, or fearful that her deſpair would be troubleſome on the way, perſuaded them to leave her behind. She was dragged from her uncle, and locked in a chamber, from whence her ſhrieks were heard by the unfortunate old man till he had paſſed the narrow cleft of the valley, which he was deſtined to behold no more. His ſufferings were acute, but they were not of long duration. The day of his arrival at Orange, he was led before the popular commiſſion, together [105] with his friends, and from thence imme⯑diately dragged to execution.

In the mean time mademoiſelle de M [...], releaſed by Marianne from the apartment where ſhe had been confined by the mercileſs guards, wandered from morning till evening amidſt the wildeſt receſſes of the valley, and along the moſt rugged paths ſhe could find. She was conſtantly followed in her ramblings by her faithful ſervant, who never loſt ſight of her a ſingle moment, and who re⯑tains in her memory many a mournful complaint of her diſordered mind, many a wild expreſſion of deſpair. She often retired to a ſmall nook near the torrent, where her uncle had placed a ſeat, and where he uſually paſſed ſome hours of the day. Sometimes ſhe ſeated herſelf on the bench; then ſtarted up, and, throwing herſelf on her knees before the ſpot where her uncle uſed to ſit, [106] bathed it with floods of tears. "Dear old man," ſhe would cry, "your aged head!—They might have left me a lock of his grey hairs. When the ſoldiers come for me, Marianne, you may cut off a lock of mine for Charles—Poor Charles!—It is well he's gone—I ſee the guillo⯑tine behind thoſe trees!—and now they drag up a weak old man!—they tie him to the plank!—it bends—oh heaven!"—

The acute affliction with which young de M [...] heard of the murder of his father was ſtill aggravated by the tidings he received from Marianne of the ſituation of his beloved Adelaide. Her image was for ever preſent to his mind; and, unable to ſupport the bitter⯑neſs of thoſe pangs which her idea ex⯑cited, he again found means to obtain leave of abſence for a few weeks, and haſtened to the valley. He found the habitation deſerted—all was dark and [107] ſilent: he flew through the apartments, calling upon the name of Adelaide, but no voice anſwered his call.

He left the houſe, and walked with haſty ſteps along the valley. As he paſſed a cavern of the rocks, he heard the moans of Adelaide—he ruſhed into the cavern—ſhe was ſeated upon its flinty floor, and Marianne was ſitting near.—Adelaide caſt up her eyes as he entered, and looked at him earneſtly—he knelt by her ſide, and preſſed her hand to his boſom—"I don't know you," ſaid Ade⯑laide.—"Not know me!" he cried, "not know Charles!"—"If you are Charles," ſhe reſumed ſullenly, "you're come too late—'tis all over!—Poor old man!" ſhe cried, riſing haſtily from the ground, and claſping her hands together, "don't you ſee his blood on my clothes? I begged very hard for him—I told them I had no father and mother but him—If you are Charles, begone, begone!—[108] They're coming—they're on the way—I ſee them upon the rock!—That knife—that bloody knife!"—

Such were the ravings of the diſorder⯑ed imagination of this unfortunate young lady, and which were ſometimes inter⯑rupted by long intervals of ſilence, and ſometimes by an agony of tears. Her lover watched over her with the moſt tender and unwearied aſſiduity; but his cares were ineffectual. The life of Ade⯑laide was near its cloſe. The convul⯑ſive pangs of her mind, the extraordi⯑nary fatigues ſhe had ſuffered in her wan⯑derings, the want of any nouriſhment except bread and water, ſince ſhe obſti⯑nately refuſed all other food, had re⯑duced her frame to a ſtate of incurable weakneſs and decay.

A ſhort time before ſhe expired, ſhe recovered her reaſon, and employed her laſt remains of ſtrength in the attempt to conſole her wretched lover. She ſpoke [109] to him of a happier world, where they ſhould meet again, and where tyrants ſhould oppreſs no more—ſhe graſped his hand—ſhe fixed her eyes on his—and died.

With the gloomy ſilence of deſpair, with feelings that were denied the relief of tears, and were beyond the utterance of complaint, this unfortunate young man prepared with his own hands the grave of her he loved, and himſelf covered her corpſe with earth.

The laſt offices paid by religion to the dead, the hallowed taper, the lifted croſs, the ſolemn requiem, had long ſince vaniſhed, and the municipal officer re⯑turned the duſt to duſt with unceremo⯑nious ſpeed. The lover of Adelaide choſe to perform himſelf thoſe ſad func⯑tions for the object of his tenderneſs, and might have exclaimed with our poet,

Young de M [...] paſſed the night at the grave of Adelaide. Marianne fol⯑lowed him thither, and humbly entreated him to return to the houſe. He point⯑ed to the new-laid earth, and waved his hand as if he wiſhed her to depart, and leave his meditations uninterrupted.

The next morning at break of day he entered the houſe, and called for Ma⯑rianne. He thanked her for her care of Adelaide; he aſſured her of his everlaſt⯑ing gratitude. While he was ſpeaking, his emotion choked his voice, and a ſhower of tears, the firſt he had ſhed ſince the death of Adelaide, ſoothed his oppreſſed heart. When he had recover⯑ed [111] himſelf, he bade Marianne farewell, and haſtened out of the houſe, muttering in a low tone, "This muſt be avenged." He told Marianne, that he was going to rejoin his battalion; but all enquiries after him have ſince been fruitleſs: this unhappy young man has been heard of no more!

LETTER V.

AT the fearful climax of revolutionary government which we have now reach⯑ed, we find no ſoothing objects which can repoſe the weary eye, or cheer the ſinking heart. An hiſtorical ſketch of this period is no common picture of hu⯑man nature, tinctured with the blended hues of vice and virtue: it is like the ſa⯑vage ſcenery of Salvator, where all is wildly horrible, and every figure on the canvaſs is a murderer. We are forced to wander through ſucceſſive evils; to turn our eyes from the popular commiſ⯑ſion of Orange to the revolutionary tri⯑bunal of Arras, from the crimes of Maig⯑net to the atrocities of Lebon.

This revolutionary chief took his place in the national convention as the ſecond [113] ſuppléant of the department of Calais, a few weeks after the memorable 31ſt of May. It appears that the committee of public ſafety had penetration enough to diſcern his extraordinary capacity for evil, ſince he had appeared a very ſhort time at the convention, when he was ſent upon miſſion, with full plenitude of revo⯑lutionary powers, into the department of the Pas du Calais, of which he was a repreſentative.

Lebon ſeems to have determined to diſtinguiſh himſelf, and merit the ap⯑plauſe of his employers, by exerciſing new modes of oppreſſion, and trying new experiments of cruelty. One of his pre⯑liminary ſtrokes of tyranny was that of dragging in ſucceſſion the multitude he had arreſted, from their reſpective pri⯑ſons, and obliging them to appear be⯑fore the popular ſociety, placed on an elevated ſeat, where the men were ex⯑poſed to all the indignities his agents [114] could inflict, and the women to the coarſeſt ribaldry and the moſt barbarous inſults. Theſe examinations were the uſual prelude to an accuſation before the revolutionary tribunal which he eſtabliſh⯑ed at Arras, and a ſection of which he ſent, for the ſake of expedition in his work of death, to Cambray. The judges and jury of thoſe tribunals were compoſ⯑ed of his own relations and his creatures; and, together with the executioner, they lived in his houſe, and dined at his table.

In the mean time he cauſed the fol⯑lowing inſcription to be written over the door of his apartment: "Ceux qui en⯑treront ici pour ſoliciter l'élargiſſement des priſonniers, n'en ſortiront que pour être mis en arreſtation^*." Thus did this unrelenting tyrant ſeek to repreſs the ge⯑nerous [115] efforts of friendſhip, and congeal the tears of ſympathy by the ſenſe of per⯑ſonal danger.

The large and populous city of Arras ſoon wore the aſpect of an unpeopled de⯑ſert. No cheerful ſounds were heard in the ſtreets: all was ſolitary and ſilent. The town appeared widowed of its in⯑habitants; the few who remained at li⯑berty having found themſelves, when they ventured to go out, expoſed "to meet the rudeneſs and ſwilled inſolence" of Lebon and his inebriated jury, who paraded the ſtreets armed with ſabres and piſtols, inſulting, and often arreſting, perſons with whoſe countenance or figure they happened to be diſpleaſed.

The mountain-leaders had all a con⯑genial thirſt for blood; but while others contented themſelves with iſſuing man⯑dates for its being ſhed, Lebon was un⯑ſatisfied unleſs he beheld it flow. At the hour of execution he uſed to appear [116] at a balcony of the theatre, near which the ſcaffold was placed, and ſip his cof⯑fee while the heads of his victims were falling. Sometimes he ordered the mi⯑litary bands to play revolutionary airs during the executions. Sometimes he apoſtrophized the perſons who were about to die; and the laſt ſounds which met their ear were the outrages againſt humanity which iſſued from his polluted lips.

The former marquis de Vieux-fort was tied to the fatal plank, with the knife ſuſpended over his head, when Lebon appeared upon the balcony of the theatre, commanded the executioner to ſtop, and obliged the unfortunate ſufferer to re⯑main in that ſituation while he read to the people a newſpaper he had juſt re⯑ceived, and which contained the account of a recent victory. He then, addreſſ⯑ing himſelf to monſieur de Vieux-fort, told him to carry to the other world his [117] deſpair at theſe tidings of ſucceſs, and at length ordered him to die.

Among the multitudes who were ſa⯑crificed to the barbarous caprices of Le⯑bon, ſome were put to death upon pre⯑tences ſo trivial, that nothing can perhaps furniſh a ſtronger proof of the abſolute, the unbluſhing tyranny he exerciſed, than the daring effrontery with which he inſulted the underſtanding as well as the feelings of the people, in the motives he alleged for inflicting the puniſhment of death.

The former marquis of Viefville, an old and gallant officer, had retired to end his days in privacy at a ſolitary ſpot call⯑ed Steenmonde, in the department of the North. To this retreat he was accom⯑panied by his daughter, an only child, who watched over the infirmities of his advanced age with unwearied tender⯑neſs, and whoſe filial piety ſhed a ray of happineſs on thoſe years which have no [118] pleaſure in them. This venerable old man and his amiable daughter were the objects of general reſpect and eſteem. But virtue, which was a tacit reproach to the monſters who then devaſtated this unfortunate country, was as offenſive to them as the light of day to the ſullen bird of darkneſs. It happened that this family had for twelve years paſt been in poſſeſſion of a parrot, whom different perſons had taught its mimic leſſons. The eſtate of the marquis was ſituated on the limits of the German empire; part of his grounds belonged to that territory, and the parrot had been in⯑ſtructed to cry "Vive l'empereur!" and alſo to call the "petit Louis," the name of a young child who lived in the houſe. The agents of Lebon received intelli⯑gence, that thoſe forbidden words had been uttered by the parrot; the bird was denounced, ſeized as a criminal of importance, and depoſited in the houſe [119] of a revolutionary commiſſary, where the feathered culprit repeated the guilty ſounds. The tidings ſpread through the city, of the arreſt of an audacious coun⯑ter-revolutionary parrot, who boldly cried "Vive le roi!" and who, it was aſſert⯑ed, had even carried his effrontery to ſuch a length as to exclaim, "Vivent les prêtres! Vivent les nobles!" So far we may ſmile at the abſurdities of our tyrants; but that diſpoſition is con⯑verted into feelings of indignant horror, when we learn that an act of accuſation was immediately iſſued againſt M. Vief⯑ville, his daughter, and her waiting-wo⯑man, who were dragged from their retire⯑ment, and led before the revolutionary tribunal.

The jury unanimouſly declared that thoſe perſons were convicted of being the authors or accomplices of a conſpi⯑racy againſt liberty and the French peo⯑ple; and of unlawful reſiſtance to revo⯑lutionary [120] and republican government; having aſſiduouſly taught a parrot to ut⯑ter the deteſtable phraſe of "Vive le roi! vive l'empereur! vivent nos prê⯑tres! et vivent les nobles!" and, by ſo doing, having provoked the re-eſtabliſh⯑ment of royalty and of tyranny; for which reaſons they were condemned to die.

The old man ſummoned all his for⯑titude, and went to the ſcaffold with the calmneſs of innocence; often lifting up his head, which was bowed down with age, to gaze upon his admirable daugh⯑ter, who met death with the ſame cou⯑rage, and who ſeemed to forget her own ſituation in that of her beloved parent.

Such are the crimes which cannot but excite horror in thoſe who have lived at a diſtance from their ſanguinary influ⯑ence, but the reflection on which, to thoſe who have been witneſſes of their enormity, renders exiſtence hateful.—[121] Such are the monſters into which men are transformed by unlimited power; whether arrayed in imperial purple, and ſurrounded by pretorian guards; or wearing for a diadem a jacobin cap, and followed by an executioner and a revo⯑lutionary jury.

A peaſant of d'Achicourt, a village near Arras, came to ſell her butter in the town. As ſhe walked along a ſtreet, ſhe met a cart filled with victims who were going to execution.—"Voilà," ſaid this poor creature with naïveté, "voilà des gens qui meurent pour bien peu de choſe^*!" She was inſtantly ſeized, and led to the tribunal of Lebon. During her trial ſhe held in her arms her infant of three months old, whom ſhe ſuckled. When ſhe heard her ſentence of death, ^†"Quoi!" ſaid ſhe, "quoi, pour un mot [122] que j'ai dit, vous allez ſéparer l'enfant d'avec la mere!" When ſhe received the fatal ſtroke, the ſtreams of maternal nouriſhment iſſued rapidly from her bo⯑ſom, and, mingled with her blood, bathed her executioner.

Among the numerous victims of Le⯑bon, none excited more general ſympathy than the family of monſieur de Mayoul, a former noble, who lived at Arras with his wife, his two daughters, and an infant ſon. Monſieur de Mayoul was altogether confined to his houſe by the gout; and his daughters, two elegant and accom⯑pliſhed young women, who both touched the piano-forte with admirable ſkill, en⯑deavoured to make the talents they poſ⯑ſeſſed ſubſervient to the amuſement of their infirm parent, and eſtabliſhed con⯑certs at their houſe every week; when he was ſoothed with the pleaſures of muſic. Sometimes they ſought to vary his amuſe⯑ments [123] by dancing in his preſence with their companions; and the motive of filial piety which animated the diverſions of thoſe amiable young women, excited in the ſpectators a ſentiment like that of Sterne, when, at the peaſant's cottage, he fancied he ſaw "Religion mingling in the dance."

Two of monſieur de Mayoul's ſons had emigrated; but the family continued to live undiſturbed, and unſuſpected of having had any previous knowledge of that circumſtance. It happened that ge⯑neral Cuſtine, in paſſing through Arras, had ſhewn ſome civilities to madame de Mayoul and her daughters. When Cuſ⯑tine had periſhed, and when Lebon ar⯑rived at Arras, this circumſtance was im⯑puted to the family of Mayoul as a crime. It was aſſerted that they were notorious ariſtocrates, and alſo that the young ladies had danced and ſung the very day when the news arrived of the defeat of one of [124] the republican armies. Upon this pre⯑text, madame de Mayoul, her two daughters, and a female ſervant were arreſted, and thrown into priſon. They were accuſed of being the authors, or ac⯑complices, of a conſpiracy framed againſt the liberty of the French people, of being the enemies of revolutionary government, of having held aſſemblies at their houſe in order to rejoice at the ſucceſs of the armies of the tyrants, and of having ap⯑proved of the emigration of the two young Mayouls.

Upon theſe accuſations they were or⯑dered to appear before the revolutionary tribunal; but notwithſtanding the num⯑ber of judicial aſſaſſinations which took place at that period, the young ladies, with the conſciouſneſs not merely of in⯑nocence, but of the motives of filial duty which had conſecrated their amuſements, fondly believed they had nothing to fear. [125] But madame de Mayoul was well aware of their danger.

The night preceding their appearance at the tribunal, after having been rigor⯑ouſly ſearched by the jailors, they were not, as was uſual, thrown into a dungeon, but were allowed the indulgence of paſſ⯑ing the night in the ſociety of their fel⯑low priſoners. One of thoſe priſoners relates, that madame de Mayoul, ad⯑dreſſing her children, ſaid to them, "You know, my dear, my tender friends! you know that my firſt care in your educa⯑tion has been to excite in your minds ſuch ſentiments as might ſecure you the eſteem of others, and the happineſs of ſelf-ap⯑probation."—"Ah yes," interrupted her daughters, "we have only been taught virtue by your precepts and your exam⯑ple." "I may die then," reſumed ma⯑dame de Mayoul, "with the ſatisfaction of thinking that I have never given you any improper counſel, and that my fel⯑low [126] citizens will believe I am altogether incapable of having led you to rejoice at the misfortunes of your country in the loſs of a battle." "Never, never!" they exclaimed, "you and we are alike incapable of ſuch conduct—we call upon the world to witneſs our innocence—it is impoſſible we can fail to juſtify ourſelves from ſuch an inculpation—and we ſhall be reſtored to liberty." "Ah, my chil⯑dren," reſumed madame de Mayoul, "inſtead of indulging that ſoothing hope, this is the moment to ſummon all your fortitude, and prepare for the worſt—for reſigning—" "Is it poſſible," they cried, "that a calumny ſo abſurd, ſo atrocious, can expoſe us to the pangs of ſeeing our mother periſh?—We think not of our⯑ſelves—how could we wiſh to ſurvive you?" and throwing themſelves upon their mother's neck, they bathed her with their tears.

Madame de Mayoul then told them, that [127] the only hope ſhe had left, was, that ſhe alone ſhould periſh, and that they would not be involved in the ſame proſcription.—"But if," ſhe continued, "they ſhould carry their barbarity to that exceſs, with⯑out conſideration for your youth, and for the authority which I may be ſuppoſed to have over your minds; if you muſt indeed ſhare my fate—then, my dear children, my beloved friends, arm your⯑ſelves with my fortitude;—place all your confidence, as I do mine, in eternal juſ⯑tice. Perhaps the ſacrifice of our lives will be uſeful to our fellow citizens—will ſhew them the neceſſity of ſuppreſſing theſe tribunals of blood:—this idea ani⯑mates my mind. Beſides, at all events, we ought to learn how to die. Let us throw ourſelves into the boſom of God. Oh my children, what gratitude we ſhall owe to the ſupreme being!—we ſhall die innocent!"

In ſuch converſation this unfortunate [128] family paſſed the night—their laſt night! The next morning they were led to the tribunal, and from thence to the ſcaffold. They died with the ſerenity of virtue, and with the hope of immortality.

The unfortunate monſieur de Mayoul, bereaved of all that endeared exiſtence, is bending with ſorrow to the grave. In vain his infant ſon would recall him to the enjoyment of life by his tender careſ⯑ſes. There are evils too terrible for the weakneſs of humanity to bear, and which admit of no remedy but the grave.

LETTER VI.

AFTER the execution of the faction of Danton and that of the commune had taken place, both of which had been con⯑demned on the moſt abſurd and ill-founded accuſations, as I have already related, the decemvirs found no longer any oppoſi⯑tion to their tyranny, but ſaw the lives and fortunes of the people of France laid abjectly at their feet. But inſtead of employing their power to any uſeful pur⯑poſe, or even to that of giving ſtability to their own government by favouring the weak after having overthrown the mighty; they became more profuſe in the waſte of blood, and atrocious without motive or end. Whether the tyrants ſuſpected the fidelity of their tribunal, [130] or whether they thought that the buſineſs of death was not readily enough diſ⯑patched, thoſe ſix commiſſions which I have before mentioned were alſo put into activity. The priſoners in general rejoiced at this inſtitution; for they had the credulity to think that the evidence of civiſm which ſome could exhibit, and the exemption from any poſitive counter⯑revolutionary charge which others could prove, would obtain their releafe by theſe commiſſions, without undergoing the for⯑mality of a hearing before the tribunal; and as theſe commiſſions were not in⯑veſted with the power of life and death, every one was anxious to gain an audi⯑ence. The adminiſtrators of police, and the revolutionary committees, were or⯑dered to procure printed lists, which in ſucceſſive columns diſplayed the paren⯑tage, birth, and education, principles, conduct, and connections of every pri⯑ſoner under their reſpective care, toge⯑ther [131] with the motives of their arreſt, and the opinions entertained of them by their accuſers. Each priſoner was to undergo a ſort of political interrogatory before the commiſſion; and as moſt of them had been long confined, and ſo many contradictory principles and ſtand⯑ards of patriotiſm had ſucceeded each other ſince their captivity began [...] pri⯑ſoner muſt have had more than common ſagacity to have anſwered his catechiſt agreeably to the faſhion of the day. For, had be declared his belief in the divinity of reaſon, and aſſerted that prieſts were impoſtors, he would have been imme⯑diately condemned as a Chaumettiſt: or, had he profeſſed his patriotic faith in a black wig, dirty ſhirt, and pantaloons, he would have been ſentenced as a con⯑ſpirator of the Hebert faction. Indeed, to the great majority of priſoners, which conſiſted of people of former rank, this Babyloniſh language was unknown in al⯑moſt [132] all its dialect; and their interro⯑gatory was altogether uſeleſs, their fate being previouſly decided. A friend of mine ſaw one day in the hands of a re⯑volutionary commiſſary, one of thoſe blank liſts which he was going to fill up. "We have," ſays he, "in our pigeon-houſe," meaning the maiſon d'arrêt of his ſection, "about one hundred and twelve old birds and young; of theſe, about twenty or thirty we ſhall ſend to the little window, and the reſt ſhall ſet out on their travels." Such were the cant terms for death and baniſhment.

The operations of the popular com⯑miſſions were altogether unknown till af⯑ter the 10th of Thermidor, when their papers and liſts of ſentences were found among the manuſcripts of the tyrants. Some perſons, on whom only ſentence of deportation had been paſſed by the com⯑miſſion, were afterwards condemned by the committee of public ſafety to death: [133] ſuch was the Maleſſi family, the father, mother, and two daughters, whoſe ſtory I have related. Their crime was ſtated in the papers of the commiſſion, and they were ſentenced to be baniſhed for being "exceſſively fanatical, and connected with prieſts; which connection might pro⯑pagate the ſpirit of counter-revolution." Some were condemned for being enemies of the revolution, others for being of the caſt of nobility; ſome for what they had done, others for what they had not done; "n'ayant jamais rien fait pour la revolution^*." One gentleman whom I knew, was doomed to baniſhment for having aſked with ſome impatience, a ſecond time, for his certificate at the ſection—"redemandant une ſeconde fois avec de menaces^†." The two [134] young St. Chamands, beautiful girls of fifteen and nineteen years of age, ex⯑nobles, were condemned to deportation for their oppoſition to the eſtabliſhment of civil and religious liberty; "beaucoup prononcées en fanatiſme, et contre la liberté, quoique très jeunes ^*." And alſo the family of Sourdeville, conſiſting of a mother and two daughters, whoſe only crime, as ſtated by the judges, was, that madame Sourdeville was "the mother of an emigrant, an ex-noble, and ariſ⯑tocrate, having her huſband and another ſon ſtruck by the ſword of the law;" and the two young ladies were likewiſe con⯑demned with her, for ſtanding in the rela⯑tion of ſiſter and daughter to the unfortu⯑nate father and brother who had periſhed.

The Robeſpierrian faction having thus ſeized on all the adminiſtrative powers, [135] which they diſpenſed with their own hands; having cruſhed the chiefs of the other factions, and terrified their ad⯑herents into the moſt ſubmiſſive ſilence, had arrived at the ſummit of their am⯑bition; at a point where a few months before the moſt extravagant imagination would ſcarcely have placed them, and believed that their power was ſettled on a baſis which could never be ſhaken. The departments alſo being now under the influence of the ſame terror as the city of Paris; the great inſtrument of its inſtruction and diſcipline, the revolution⯑ary army, was broken as uſeleſs and cumberſome. The chief of this army, Ronſin, who had been one of the con⯑ductors of the war in the Vendée under the title of general miniſter, or miniſter general, had periſhed in what was called in the dialect of the time the Hebert batch; accuſed of alienating the affec⯑tions of his troops from the committee [136] of public ſafety; which was probably true, ſince there was another faction in great vigour at that moment, which was the war faction, or the party of Bouchotte, and his ſecretaries Vincent and others, who periſhed at the ſame time as Hebert; this faction being not a little dangerous to the deſpotiſm of the auguſt decem⯑virate. The revolutionary army, which was now broken, had fulfilled its miſſion agreeably to its inſtitution and inſtruc⯑tions, though it does not appear that the numerous and wanton acts of cruelty which it committed were either ap⯑proved or ſanctioned by the convention; on the contrary, ſome very ſevere ani⯑madverſions were there made upon its conduct, and ſome ſtrong accuſations were brought againſt it, which were con⯑firmed by the moſt authentic evidence.

The execution of the Danton faction, and the diſmiſſion of this army, were fol⯑lowed by other meaſures equally revo⯑lutionary, [137] in which we were ourſelves included; for it was at this period, the beginning of April, that the law took place which baniſhed nobles and foreign⯑ers from Paris, and which ordered all ſuſpected of conſpiracy to be ſent from all parts of the republic to be tried at Paris. As it was ſaid of Greece, that you could not move a ſtep without treading on a hiſtory, ſo it might now have been ſaid of Paris, that you could not paſs along a ſtreet without viewing ſome ob⯑ject of horror. Our baniſhment there⯑fore, had it not been attended with the conſciouſneſs of what was paſſing in the ſcene we had left, would have been bliſs, compared to our reſidence in town.

Nothing perhaps contributed to miſ⯑lead the people of Europe ſo much, with reſpect to the ſtate of the French nation at this period, as the intelligence which was conveyed to them by the public papers. It required a more intimate [138] knowledge of French affairs than foreign⯑ers in general could find the means of obtaining, to reconcile the intelligence given in thoſe newſpapers with the atro⯑cities which they heard were committed. While pillage and murder, under the name of confiſcation and puniſhment, blackened every part of the republic; the papers preſented us with the moſt elegant and philoſophical reports on agriculture, literature, and the fine arts. But for the long catalogue of victims which cloſed the evening paper, we might, even in our retreat at Marly, have fancied that the reign of philoſophy had begun, and that, where there was ap⯑parently ſo earneſt a deſire to civilize and ſuccour mankind, there could not be ſo monſtrous an aſſemblage of treaſon, atrocity, and carnage.

Moſt of theſe intereſting and inſtruc⯑tive reports, which tended to ſoften the hideouſneſs of the general outline, were [139] made by men who had not the means or the courage to ſtem the torrent, who ſighed in ſecret over its ravages, and em⯑ployed their moments in doing ſome⯑thing which might tend to reſcue their country from the barbariſm into which it was haſtening. I particularly allude to the reports of Gregoire on the im⯑provement of the language, on the pub⯑lic libraries, and on the eſtabliſhment of national gardens throughout the republic.

Sometimes the decemvirs themſelves relaxed from their habitual ferocity, and a report eſcaped from their lips, in which there was neither conſpiracy nor murder. Barrere, in a momentary caprice of virtue, pronounced a diſcourſe on the means of rooting out mendicity from the republic, replete with humanity and ideas of general benevolence.

Barrere, however, ſoon made the amende honorable to the ſyſtem he had abandoned for a moment, by delivering [140] immediately after his famous decree, "to make no Engliſh or Hanoverian priſon⯑ers," calling on the army, who happily for Gallic honour refuſed to hear him, "When victory ſhall put the Engliſh in your power, ſtrike; let no one return to the land of Great Britain, nor one remain on the free ſoil of France." It is not ge⯑nerally known, that the reward held out to him for this act of boldneſs was, that although he had been a Feuillant, a Girondiſt, and of all parties in their turn; he was, immediately upon this report, thought worthy by Robeſpierre to be ad⯑mitted into the ſanctum ſanctorum of the patriots, and was enrolled a jacobin.

The chief himſelf, who affected to ſtand aloof, and never to mingle perſon⯑ally in the wars of the leſſer factions, but reſerved himſelf for high exploits, having acknowledged the exiſtence of the ſupreme being in the overthrow of the commune and the Dantoniſts, con⯑deſcended [141] to give the convention a long lecture on theology in his report on na⯑tional feſtivals.

I have already mentioned Voltaire's obſervation, that atheiſm might prove a greater ſcourge to mankind than ſan⯑guinary ſuperſtition; but probably a greater ſcourge than either is powerful hypocriſy. We can guard our reaſon againſt ſophiſtry or violence, but from the tribute which hypocriſy pays to vir⯑tue, of wearing her ſemblance, we are more eaſily deceived. It was probably on account of the great danger of this vice to ſociety, that the ſaviour of man⯑kind, while he looked on failings with indulgence, and on crimes with pardon, poured forth all the anathema of indig⯑nation and vengeance againſt hypocriſy. The trembling criminal whom the law condemned to death, ſaw mercy beam⯑ing in his eye, and the weeping peni⯑tent found reconciliation at his feet, [142] while he placed an eternal line of demar⯑cation between the hypocritical Sanhe⯑drim and the Almighty.

While Robeſpierre behind the ſcenes was iſſuing daily mandates for murder, we ſee him on the ſtage the herald of mercy and of peace—we ſee him af⯑fecting to pour the balm of conſolation into the wounds which he was himſelf inflicting; and, like the unrelenting inquiſitor, recommending to mercy the wretch whom he was delivering to tor⯑ture. "Conſult," ſays this finiſhed actor, "only the good of the country, and the intereſts of mankind. Every inſtitution, every doctrine which conſoles and ele⯑vates the mind, ſhould be cheriſhed; re⯑ject all thoſe which tend to degrade and corrupt it. Re-animate, exalt every generous ſentiment, every ſublime moral idea, which your enemies have ſough to obliterate; draw together by the charm of friendſhip, and the ties of [143] virtue, thoſe men whom they have at⯑tempted to ſeparate. Who gave thee a miſſion to proclaim to the people that the Divinity exiſts not? Oh thou, who art enamoured of this ſterile doctrine, but who never waſt enamoured of thy country! what advantage doſt thou find in perſuading mankind that a blind fatality preſides over their deſtiny, ſtrik⯑ing guilt and virtue as chance directs; and that the human ſoul is but a fleeting breath, extinguiſhed at the gates of the tomb?

"Will man be inſpired with more pure and elevated ſentiments by the idea of annihilation, than by that of immorta⯑lity? Will it produce more reſpect for his fellow creatures, and for himſelf? more attachment to his country? ſtronger re⯑ſiſtance to tyranny? greater contempt of death? You, who regret a virtuous friend, you love to think that the nobler part of his being has eſcaped from [144] death! You, who weep over the grave of a child, or of a wife, does he bring you conſolation who tells you that all which remains of them is but duſt? Unhappy victim, who expireſt under the ſtroke of the aſſaſſin, thy laſt ſigh is an appeal to eternal juſtice! the tyrant turns pale upon his triumphal car at the ſight of inno⯑cence upon the ſcaffold. Would virtue have this aſcendancy if the tomb placed on the ſame level the oppreſſor and the oppreſſed? Wretched ſophiſt! by what right doſt thou wreſt the ſceptre of reaſon from the hands of innocence, to intruſt it to thoſe of guilt? to throw a funereal veil over nature, to aggravate misfor⯑tune, to ſooth vice, to depreſs virtue, and degrade the human race?

"In proportion to the degree of genius and ſenſibility with which man is endued, he clings to thoſe ideas which aggrandize his being, and elevate his heart; and the doctrine of ſuch men becomes that [145] of the univerſe. Ah! ſurely thoſe ideas muſt have their foundation in truth! At leaſt I cannot conceive how nature could have ſuggeſted fictions to mankind more uſeful than realities; and if the exiſtence of God, if the immortality of the ſoul, were but dreams, they would ſtill be the moſt ſublime conceptions of the hu⯑man mind!"

Though we were not deceived as to the habitual character of Robeſpierre, we imagined that the overthrow of all the rival factions might have ſoftened in ſome meaſure his obdurate heart. Every priſoner fondly looked forward to the feſtival of the ſupreme being as the epocha of liberty, or at leaſt of mercy.

"All the virtues," ſays Robeſpierre, "ſhall contend for the right of prece⯑dency at our feſtivals. Let us inſtitute the feſtival of glory; not of that glory which ravages and enſlaves the world, but of that which enlightens, comforts, [146] and gives it freedom; of that which, next to their country, is the chief object of worſhip to generous minds. Let us inſtitute another feſtival more affecting ſtill; the feſtival of misfortune. Wealth and power are the idols of ſlaves: let us honour misfortune; misfortune, which humanity cannot chaſe from the earth, but which it can ſoften and cheer. Thou alſo ſhalt receive our homage, divine friendſhip! thou who didſt here⯑tofore unite the hero and the ſage; thou who giveſt additional ſtrength to the lovers of their country; for whom traitors, aſſociated for the purpoſes of guilt, have worn only the hypocritical marks of pretended reſpect; divine friend⯑ſhip! amongſt republican Frenchmen thy power ſhall be acknowledged, and thy altars revered!"

However well Robeſpierre performed the hypocrite, he had not ſufficient ad⯑dreſs to preſerve the character; for hu⯑manity, [147] and misfortune, and glory, and friendſhip, enlightening and conſoling the world; and all the mockery and ſhow of the feſtival, with all the hopes and expectations of the unfortunate pri⯑ſoners, vaniſhed into thin air. The feſ⯑tival, as has been related, took place on the 20th of Prairial; and on the 22d the law for condemnation in maſs, without witneſs or defence, paſſed the conven⯑tion, and the work of death went on with redoubled ſpeed.

Had the tyrants who were thus ſuc⯑ceſsful in their uſurpation, after cruſhing their immediate rivals, eſtabliſhed a more humane ſyſtem of government, of which they would have been the protectors, the world might ſtill have remained ignorant at leaſt of the exceſs of their crimes; and might have attributed their ſeverity to the perilous circumſtances in which they were placed, by the coaleſced powers without, and the intrigues of the [148] royal and ariſtocratical party within. In this caſe, none of thoſe atrocious acts which the fall of Robeſpierre has unveil⯑ed would have been known, and what is now the ſubject of general horror would have been regarded only as neceſſary evil.

The hiſtorian, therefore, who ſhould have taken the public acts, or the papers relating the tranſactions of the day, as the baſis of his information, would have deceived himſelf and poſterity. And even now the taſk will be difficult to tranſmit with accuracy and impartiality the hiſ⯑tory of that extraordinary epocha; which furniſhes a moſt awful and ſtupendous monument of all that is ſublime, and baſe; of all that is moſt virtuous, and moſt vile; of all that can excite mankind to the daring and heroic act, and of all that can make man with unutterable hor⯑ror fly from man as from a peſtilence.

The moment, however, was now ap⯑proaching when humanity was to be [149] avenged of its tyrants for that long ſcene of multiplied crimes, of which what pen can make the recapitulation? ‘There are times,’ Voltaire obſerves, ‘of horrors and of madneſs among man⯑kind, as there are times of peſtilence; and this contagion has made the tour of the world.’ France has juſt ſeen one of theſe epochas, which are the aſto⯑niſhment, the terror, and the ſhame of human nature. Happily they are rare in any hiſtory; and in the courſe of the or⯑dinary calamities which are the ſcourge of civil ſociety, thoſe epochas may be conſidered as mortal maladies, amidſt that crowd of habitual infirmities which are inſeparable from our organization.

"When we dare reflect," ſays the il⯑luſtrious advocate of humanity, Servan, "on all that has juſt paſſed, and repeat with a ſigh, I alſo am a man, we know not at what we ought moſt to bluſh—the crimes which human nature can commit, [150] or thoſe which it can ſuffer; at the hor⯑rible wickedneſs of the few, or the ſtu⯑pid patience of the whole.

"We have ſeen what a wicked man would have bluſhed at foreſeeing, and what a good man would have feared to imagine; we have ſeen what thoſe who have committed would not have believ⯑ed in the hiſtory of others; we have ſeen in one moment, and as it were by a thun⯑der-bolt, the whole of France become only one frightful chaos, or rather one vaſt conflagration; every principle, con⯑ſecrated by neceſſity in every place, at all periods, and in every heart, ſpurned at or annihilated; the overthrow of every cuſtom, nay of prejudices and even ha⯑bits; the almoſt total exchange of pro⯑perty, which is more aſtoniſhing than its ruin; beggary taking place of wealth, and wealth not daring to put itſelf into the place of beggary; in the midſt of which, a band of villains, but a handful com⯑pared [151] to the whole nation, ſcattered throughout the republic, ſubdue a peo⯑ple victorious without, and armed with in. And this band of monſters were ſtil greater in impudence than crimes; pa⯑rading from city to city, from ſtreet to ſtreet, from place to place, from houſe to houſe, with robbery, pillage, famine, and aſſaſſination in their train; ſtriking with the ſame poniard the prudence which was ſilent, or the truth that had the boldneſs to ſpeak; purſuing the fear⯑ful man in his flight, after having mur⯑dered the intrepid citizen who ſcorned to fly. We have ſeen indeed the mo⯑ment, when every man in France who was not a decided villain could not, without riſking death every hour of the day, either be ſilent or ſpeak out, either ſtay or fly;—and this was ſuffered by Frenchmen at the very period when they were the conquerors of the world."

It was impoſſible that this ſtate of ex⯑treme [152] violence could be permanent. The [...] dawning hope of deliverance aroſe from the quarrels of the different factions; it was therefore with ſatisfaction, the cauſe of which the friends of liberty were cau⯑tious to diſſemble, that they ſaw the par⯑ty of the commune, of the war-miniſter, and of Danton, ſent to the ſcaffold; for there ſeemed no reaſon why other fac⯑tions ſhould not ariſe to diſplace, and alſo to bring to puniſhment, thoſe who now wielded the revolutionary ſceptre.

Though Danton was deſtroyed, his party was ſtill numerous in the conven⯑tion; and it was aſſerted, that had he ap⯑peared at the tribune when he was ac⯑cuſed, and denounced Robeſpierre, he would have ſent his rival to the ſcaffold. Robeſpierre, who was conſcious that he had not ſubdued the ſpirit, though he had taken off the head, of the faction, thought, like Caeſar, that nothing was done while any thing remained unfiniſh⯑ed. [153] He ſaw the difficulty that would at⯑tend his operations, if, to uſe Camille Deſmoulins' expreſſion, he continued to make "des coups reglés" in the foreſt of the convention, and therefore con⯑ceived, it ſeems, the hardy project of felling the whole wood at one ſtroke; of breaking up the convention as a gan⯑grened body not worth partial applica⯑tions, and taking the care of the ſtate into his own hands.

The committees of public and general ſafety, which were the committees of government, were abſolute in their ad⯑miniſtration, and the convention had dwindled into the moſt contemptible in⯑ſignificance. The deputies met to hear a report for the ſake of form, to clap their hands on the re-election of their tyrants when the periods arrived, or huzza at a carmagnol of Barrere; and were ſent away at four o'clock to dinner, to call again the next morning at twelve.

[154] Although Robeſpierre had ſucceeded in breaking them into this ſubordination, he had not ſo entirely checked the ambi⯑tion of his fellow riders; for there were ſome, who, though better diſſemblers than the members of the late commune, beheld with as unſatisfied an eye the ſtretches which Robeſpierre's faction were mak⯑ing; and which they ſaw would puſh them from their ſeats, as they had aided him in removing others.

The firſt ſtep towards the acquiſition of abſolute power was the concentration of all authority in the committee of pub⯑lic ſafety. Robeſpierre had filled the vacant places in the commune with his own creatures, and the jacobins were his devoted ſubjects. All that remained, therefore, was to annihilate the powers of the committee of general ſafety, which took care of the lives and properties of the citizens, while the other was charged with the external affairs and the gene⯑ral [155] weal of the ſtate; and unite in this laſt both individual and public welfare. To this propoſition the members of the committee of general ſafety did not diſ⯑cover any readineſs to aſſent; and though Robeſpierre had reigned with uncon⯑trolled ſway ſince the death of the Gi⯑ronde, his aſcendancy over his aſſociates had not reached ſo far as to prevail with them to bend their necks, like the herd of the convention and the people, to his yoke.

Theſe ſtruggles had made a formal diviſion at this period in the two com⯑mittees, which had conſiſted for ſome time of two parties; but whoſe coali⯑tion had been cemented hitherto by crimes and by blood. Robeſpierre's party in the committee of public ſafety was compoſed of St. Juſt, Couthon, and Barrere; in that of general fafety, of David, Vadier, and ſome others; and though theſe committees were at hoſtili⯑ties [156] with each other, the intereſt of the ruffians was too cloſely united to bring their quarrel before the public. The ambition of Robeſpierre embarraſſed them much, and it was more than once propoſed that recourſe ſhould be had to the poniard. This plan, which was highly reliſhed by many members of the committee, was vehemently oppoſed by a citizen, who, having been admitted into their councils, was often an inſtru⯑ment in the hands of providence of leſ⯑ſening individual horrors, and of ſaving many from deſtruction. He repreſented to them all the evils that would neceſſa⯑rily reſult from ſuch an act of premature violence; that they might indeed kill the tyrant, but that they would infallibly be the victims themſelves; that he would be conſidered by the people as a martyr, and they would be reputed his murder⯑ers; while forbearance and temporizing would puſh him on to ſome act of in [157] conſideration and folly, which they, who knew his treaſonable deſigns, might lay hold on as an attempt to deſtroy the liber⯑ty of the republic; and the people would ſend him with execrations to the ſcaffold, whom, in the preſent ſtate of things, they would perhaps be ignorantly induced to honour as a ſaint.

LETTER VII.

ROBESPIERRE, finding the com⯑mittee ſo little inclined to pay him that ſubmiſſive homage which was yielded to him by the reſt of France, abſented him⯑ſelf both from them and the conven⯑tion during ſome weeks; and began to prepare for open hoſtilities, with the aſ⯑ſiſtance of the jacobins, the revolution⯑ary tribunal, and the regenerated com⯑mune. The united ſtrength of theſe bo⯑dies was very formidable, and the con⯑vention had nothing to oppoſe to them but the poſſibility of exciting rebellion againſt the conſtituted authorities; for the military force was in the hands of Henriot, who was the devoted ſlave of Robeſpierre; and the civil and revolu⯑tionary concerns of the ſections of Paris [159] centred in the commune, the directors of which were of his immediate appoint⯑ment. The jacobins bore ſway over the whole, and he was the abſolute monarch of the jacobins.

When Robeſpierre thought that his plan was ſufficiently matured, he appear⯑ed at the tribune of the convention, which he had not entered for ſome time, and made a vehement harangue on the op⯑preſſion which was exerciſed over him⯑ſelf, and againſt the operations of the committees; promiſing the convention, that he would propoſe the only means fitted to ſave the country.

His ſpeech excited much agitation; the members appeared to liſten to him with ſenſations ſimilar to thoſe of the in⯑habitants of ſome great city, who hear the murmurs of the earthquake, and feel the ground ſhake beneath them, but are ignorant where the gulph will open, and what part, or if the whole, will be ſwal⯑lowed [160] up. The convention, although alarmed, and doubtful how to act, yet ſeeing the proſpect of irremediable ruin before their eyes through the thin cover⯑ing which the tyrant had thrown over his deſigns, aſſumed ſufficient courage to debate on the prominent parts of his ſpeech, which they ordered to be printed.

Having opened himſelf thus far to the convention, Couthon explained the ſpeech more fully at the jacobins' in the evening. There he denounced the two committees of government as traitors, and inſiſted that the perſons who com⯑poſed thoſe committees ſhould be ex⯑cluded from the ſociety. The preſident of the revolutionary tribunal was the next commentator on Robeſpierre's ſpeech, and pronounced without any re⯑ſerve, that the convention ſhould be pu⯑rified alſo; which implied the entire diſ⯑ſolution of the repreſentative body.

This purification was not to be con⯑fined [161] to the convention; for the con⯑ſpiracy againſt the republic had, to borrow the language of theſe regenera⯑tors, its authors and accomplices in every quarter of Paris. The fate of one deſcription of thoſe conſpirators was ſo certain, that their graves were literally dug before their eyes, and graves of no ordinary extent. Theſe were the multi⯑tude of priſoners who were waiting a more formal, but not leſs certain death, before the revolutionary tribunal. It had been propoſed to build a ſcaffolding in the great hall of the Palais, reſembling the hall of Weſtminſter, where two or three hundred might be tried at once, inſtead of fifty or ſixty as was the preſent mode. But it was now thought the great ends of national juſtice might be better anſwered by what was called emptying the priſons at once; and that, as the ſen⯑tence of theſe conſpirators was already paſſed, the formality of their appear⯑ance [162] at a tribunal might be diſpenſed with. For ſome days therefore labourers had been employed in ſeveral priſons of Paris, in making large excavations in their re⯑ſpective court-yards; and it was not con⯑cealed from many of the priſoners by their keepers, and even by the admini⯑ſtrators of the police, how they were to be filled up. We cannot heſitate in believing this new inſtance of atrocity, when we compare the revolutionary lan⯑guage held by the chiefs on the neceſſity of quick expedients to get rid of traitors, together with the changes made juſt at this period in the keepers of the various priſons; ſince thoſe who had moſt diſ⯑tinguiſhed themſelves for firmneſs of nerve in the commiſſion of murders, had ſucceeded the ordinary ruffians^*; [163] and alſo, what is more certain evidence, the information of many of the pri⯑ſoners, who, confined in different priſons, agree in relating the ſame facts. There is alſo little doubt that the nobles and ſtrangers, who by the law of the fifteenth of Germinal were diſperſed through the various communes of the republic, under the eye of tyrants, who were in⯑formed of their reſidence by the deca⯑dary returns of the ſeveral municipali⯑ties which they inhabited, would have ſhared the fate of the priſoners.

The convention in the mean time obſerved their uſual ſubmiſſive ſilence, although they well knew that certain [164] portions of them were deſignated, liſts of proſcription having been diſcovered from the careleſſneſs of thoſe who were to co-operate in the bloody work. One was found by accident among the papers of Vilate, one of the revolutionary jury, who, being refractory on ſome particular point, had been arreſted.

The ſame ſtate of ſtupefaction which had led the convention to ſee former maſſes torn from their body, ſeemed ſtill to benumb their faculties. Robe⯑ſpierre, whoſe ſeceſſion from the com⯑mittees had not rendered him leſs the maſter of their operations, flattered him⯑ſelf that the taſk was now perfectly eaſy; for, independent of his irreſiſtible pha⯑lanxes, the jacobins, the revolutionary committees, the regenerated commune, and the military force of Paris, the ter⯑ror which he had infuſed into the con⯑vention came powerfully to his aid.

The hours of the tyrant were never⯑theleſs [165] numbered, and the moment ap⯑proached when he was to make his ac⯑count with eternal juſtice. The attack of Robeſpierre upon his colleagues on the morning of the 8th of Thermidor, and the commentary made by his accom⯑plices at the jacobins' the ſame evening, rouſed the convention from their diſ⯑honourable lethargy, and they became bold from deſperation.

The eventful day at length arrived, and both parties took their places in the hall of the convention with an air of affected calmneſs, while ſome ordinary buſineſs of the day went on; for no one even of the proſcribed members ſeemed anxious to become the Curtius of the reſt, al⯑though the next meeting of the jaco⯑bins, or the next motion of the munici⯑pality, might have decided the arreſt of the whole of the convention, except Robeſpierre's faction. But St. Juſt hav⯑ing aſcended the tribune, and begun a [166] ſpeech in the ſame whining tone which Robeſpierre had uſed the preceding day, complaining of the bad treatment he had received, and of the treaſon of his colleagues in the committee; Tallien, and Billaud Varennes, the former of whom was on the liſt of proſcription, and the latter Robeſpierre's rival in the committee, overpowered his voice by their denunciations againſt the perfi⯑dious and horrible deſigns of the tyrants, which they unveiled to the convention. Robeſpierre, who was ignorant of this counter conſpiracy, though he ſaw a diſpoſition the preceding day to mu⯑tiny, was ſtruck as with a thunderbolt. He made at length ſome attempts to ſpeak; but his voice was drowned in the denunciations poured forth againſt him. Tallien inſiſted on his arreſt: but the convention, under the impreſſion of its habitual terror, contented itſelf with pronouncing that of his inferior agents; [167] and it was not till Robeſpierre had mounted the tribune, and, with the air of a chief, called the convention a band of robbers, that Vadier, one of his former accomplices, obtained the vote of accu⯑ſation, by turning evidence againſt him. Robeſpierre, ſeeing himſelf beſet on every ſide, threw a look of piercing indigna⯑tion towards his brother mountaineers, and reproached them for their cowardice. Hearing curſes poured down upon him from every quarter, and ſeeing that his kingdom was departed from him, he call⯑ed out in the fury of deſperation to be led to death; which the convention virtually decreed, in an unanimous vote of accu⯑ſation againſt him. His colleagues St. Juſt, Couthon, Le Bas, and his own brother, were arreſted at the ſame time, and after ſome reſiſtance were led away to priſon.

Thus far the convention had been ſucceſsful; for all parties had concurred [168] in the humiliation of a tyrant, by whom all had been equally oppreſſed. But the ſcene which the city preſented was truly alarming. The jacobins, hearing of the inſurrection againſt Robeſpierre, imme⯑diately aſſembled. The commune, which was ordered to the bar of the convention, inſtead of obeying, rang the tocſin to call the citizens to arms. Henriot, the com⯑mander of the military force, who had been arreſted and led to the committee of general ſafety, was releaſed, and pa⯑rading the ſtreets on horſeback, while the cannoneers under his orders had loaded their pieces. Robeſpierre with his colleagues was delivered from priſon by the adminiſtrators of the police, and, being inſtalled at the hotel de ville, had outlawed the whole convention.

Had the conſpirators acted with ordi⯑nary ſagacity; had they immediately marched their cannon againſt the con⯑vention, which for ſome hours was only [169] guarded by a ſmall number of armed citizens, the triumph of Robeſpierre and the municipality would have been com⯑plete. But, happily for humanity, they waſted thoſe moments in deliberations and harangues; whilſt the convention, taking courage at the goodneſs of its cauſe, and in the hope of ſome ſparks of remaining virtue in the people, diſcovered a diſpoſition to defend themſelves, and in a ſhort time thouſands ſlew to their aid. The hall of the jacobins was cleared by the energy of Legendre; and ſeven deputies were named as generals for the conventional cauſe againſt the commune, who were now declared to be in a ſtate of rebellion, and put out of the law. Such at this moment was the ſtate of Paris, when the commander of the mi⯑litary force, Henriot, appeared in the court of the convention, and ordered it to ſurrender. But he came too late: the convention was now prepared for de⯑fence, [170] and anſwered his ſummons by put⯑ting him out of the law as well as his employers.

This "hors la loi" has the ſame effect on a Frenchman as if it were the cry of the peſtilence: the object becomes civil⯑ly excommunicated, and a ſort of con⯑tamination is apprehended if you paſs through the air which he has breathed. Such was the effect which this decree produced upon the cannoneers, who had planted their artillery againſt the con⯑vention: without receiving any further inſtructions, except hearing that the com⯑mune were "hors la loi," they inſtantly turned their pieces. Henriot, ſeeing this unexpected reſiſtance, and finding that the ſections meant to deliberate before they put the convention to death, ſlunk back to the commune, who were alſo in a profound ſtate of deliberation. In the mean time the convention had ſent deputies into every quarter of the [171] town, to rally the citizens around the aſ⯑ſembly; and they ſucceeded ſo well, that in a few hours the convention had an hundred thouſand men to march againſt the commune. The hotel de ville was now beſieged in its turn; and might have made a formidable reſiſtance, had not the cannoneers of that quarter alſo heard of the "hors la loi," and refuſed to fire their pieces; while the immenſe multitude that were idly aſſembled in the place de Greve before the hotel, had taken poſſeſ⯑ſion of the carriages of the artillery to ſerve as ladders, from which they could ſtare into the windows, and crowds were mounted on the cannon to enjoy the ſpectacle. The conſpirators now, aban⯑doned, and, like Nero, having no friend or enemy at hand to diſpatch them, had no means of eſcaping from ignominy but by a voluntary death, which they had not the courage to give themſelves.

Catiline, it is ſaid, was found at a con⯑ſiderable [172] diſtance from his friends, mingled amongſt his enemies, with a countenance bold and daring in death. It is ſomewhat remarkable, that nearly two years ſince a writer, drawing the parallel, or rather the diſſimilitude of character between Catiline and Robeſ⯑pierre, obſerved, that whenever the de⯑ciſive moment of conteſt ſhould ariſe between the parties which were formed after the 10th of Auguſt, Robeſpierre would periſh; not plunged into the ranks of his foes, but be ſtruck by ſome ig⯑noble hand, and die from a wound in his back.

The conſpirators, ſeeing that all reſiſt⯑ance was fruitleſs, hid themſelves or took to flight. Robeſpierre was found in an apartment of the hotel, and was ſternly reminded by a gendarme that a ſupreme being really exiſted. Robeſpierre held a knife in his hand, but had not courage to uſe it; the gendarme fired at him with a [173] piſtol, and broke his jaw-bone; he fell, without uttering a word. His brother threw himſelf out of a window, and broke his thigh by the fall. Henriot had given his aſſociates the ſtrongeſt aſſurances that he was ſecure of the military force of Pa⯑ris; and Coffinhal, a judge of the revolu⯑tionary tribunal, when he ſaw that all was loſt, poured forth the moſt bitter invec⯑tives againſt Henriot for having thus de⯑ceived them; and at length ſeizing him, in a fit of rage and deſpair, threw him out of a window. Henriot concealed himſelf a ſhort time in a common-ſewer, from whence he was dragged after having loſt an eye. Theſe criminals, with their ac⯑complices, were brought, ſome on biers and others on foot, to the convention; from whence they were all ſent to the Conciergerie, except Robeſpierre, who was carried into the anti-chamber of the committee of public ſafety, where thoſe who attended him told me he lay ſtretch⯑ed [174] motionleſs on a table four hours, with his head bound up, and his eyes ſhut; making no anſwer to the taunting queſ⯑tions that were put to him, but pinch⯑ing his thighs with convulſive agony, and ſometimes looking round when he ima⯑gined no one was near. He underwent the operation of dreſſing his wounds, in order to prolong his exiſtence a few hours; after which he was ſent, with the reſt of his aſſociates, to the tribunal. The identification of their perſons was all that was neceſſary, ſince they were hors la loi, and the ſentence of execution againſt them was demanded by their for⯑mer friend, Fouquier Tainville.

On the evening of the 10th of Thermi⯑dor (the 28th of July 1794), theſe crimi⯑nals were led to the ſcaffold. The frantic joy which the Pariſians diſcovered on this occaſion was equal to the puſillani⯑mous ſtupor into which they had been hitherto plunged. The maledictions [175] that accompanied the tyrants on their way to execution were not, as uſual, the clamour of hireling furies; they proceed⯑ed with honeſt indignation from the lips of an oppreſſed people, and burſt invo⯑luntarily from the heart of the fatherleſs and the widow. Theſe monſters were made to drink the cup of bitterneſs to the very dregs. Many of them were ſo disfi⯑gured by wounds and bruiſes, that it was difficult to diſtinguiſh their perſons, and little attention had been paid to alleviate theſe intermediate ſufferings. In the maſs periſhed Robeſpierre, his co-adjutors Couthon and St. Juſt; Henriot, the com⯑mander of the military force of Paris; the mayor of Paris; the national agent; the preſident of the jacobins; the preſident of the revolutionary tribunal; the ſans⯑culotte preceptor of the young dauphin; and the agents of theſe leaders, to the number of twenty-two. The following day the members of the commune of [176] Paris, to the amount of ſeventy-two, were beheaded on the place de Greve; and twelve, on the day after, completed the liſt of the chiefs of the preſent conſpiracy.

The bar of the convention, which had hitherto been the echo of the tyrants, ap⯑plauding every barbarous meaſure, and ſanctioning every atrocious deed, now reſounded with gratulation and triumph upon the victory, and aſſurances, ſince it was gained, that thoſe who offered the addreſs would have ſhed the laſt drop of blood to have obtained it; or, according to the accuſtomed phraſe, "have made a rampart of their bodies." This incon⯑ſiſtency on the part of the Pariſians will not appear ſurpriſing, when we reflect that the city was divided into two par⯑ties—the murderers, who were now over⯑thrown, and thoſe who were to have been murdered, and who now exulted in their deliverance.

Conſidering the immenſe influence [177] which the terroriſt faction, the denomi⯑nation now given to Robeſpierre's ſup⯑porters, had obtained both in Paris and in the departments, the whole of the ad⯑miniſtrations, both civil and military, throughout the republic being put into their hands, it is ſcarcely credible that ſo mighty an hoſt ſhould have been over⯑thrown by one ſingle effort, and in which no meaſures were prepared or combined.

The inhabitants of thoſe living ſepul⯑chres, the priſons of Paris, felt with moſt ecſtacy this happy revolution. Hope had entirely forſaken them; they had re⯑ſigned themſelves in fixed deſpair to that fate, which they believed to be inevi⯑table.

The priſoners knew that ſome extra⯑ordinary ſcenes were paſſing in the city; for in all the priſons they had been or⯑dered to retire to reſt one hour earlier than uſual, and to leave their doors un⯑locked; and at the ſame time they ob⯑ſerved [178] an air of myſtery on the faces of their keepers, which ſeemed to bode ſome near and dreadful evil.

The ringing of the tocſin during the night ſerved to increaſe their apprehen⯑ſions; they imagined a great tumult agi⯑tated the city, but concluded that it was only ſome ſtroke of more extenſive ty⯑ranny that was about to be inflicted, and that would conſolidate more firmly the power of the tyrants. In this ſtate of torture they paſſed the night, and waited the light of the morning in all the pangs of terror and diſmay. At length the morning returned, and the important ſecret had not yet penetrated the walls of the priſons; but a feeling like hope animated the ſinking ſpirits of the pri⯑ſoners, when, with the ſearching eye of anxious expectation, they ſought to read their fate in the countenances of their jailors, and there diſcovered evident marks of diſappointment and dejection, [179] while ſome relaxation from their habi⯑tual ſeverity ſucceeded the extraordinary precautions and rigour of the preceding day.

They were not however long held in ſuſpenſe. In ſome of the priſons the newſpaper of the paſt evening was pro⯑cured at an enormous price: but who could rate too high the purchaſe which brought the tidings of deliverance? In ſome of the priſons, the citizens who were obliged to perform the painful office of guards within their gloomy courts, contrived to tell the priſoners in monoſyllables breathed in whiſpers (for all intercourſe between the guards and the priſoners was ſternly prohibited), that the hour of hope and mercy beamed upon their ſufferings. In other priſons they were informed of what was paſſing, by women who diſplayed upon the roofs of houſes, which overlooked at a diſtance [180] the priſon walls, the names of Robeſ⯑pierre and his aſſociates, written in ſuch broad characters that the priſoners with the aid of glaſſes could read them plainly; and after preſenting the name, the gene⯑rous informer ſhewed by expreſſive geſ⯑tures, that the head of him who bore that name had fallen.

A military gentleman who was con⯑fined in the priſon of the Abbey told me, that, after having paſſed the night of the 27th of July, in the immediate ex⯑pectation of being maſſacred, all his fears were inſtantly relieved by a very ſlight circumſtance. The priſoners had long been denied the conſolation of any inter⯑view with their friends; the utmoſt pri⯑vilege allowed them was that of writing upon the direction of the packets of li⯑nen, when they were ſent to their houſes to be waſhed, or received from thence, after a very ſtrict examination, "Je me [181] porte bien^*." The wife of this gentle⯑man, to whom ſhe was tenderly attached, uſed every day to write with an aching heart upon the packet, "Je me porte bien." On the morning of the 28th of July, the packet arrived as uſual; but one monoſyllable and one note of ad⯑miration were added to the direction: "Ah, que je me porte bien^†!" With an emotion of tranſport which told him his misfortunes were at an end, he read thoſe little words, and hailed the bleſſed augur.

During many hours the fall of the tyrant was repeated with cautious timi⯑dity through the dreary manſions of con⯑finement, and the priſoners related to each other the eventful tale, as if they feared that

Even the minds of thoſe who were at li⯑berty, [182] were too ſtrongly fettered by ter⯑ror to bear the ſudden expanſion of joy; and the gentleman who firſt brought the tidings to my family that Robeſpierre was arreſted, after having been blamed for his imprudence in mentioning ſuch a circumſtance before ſome ſtrangers who were preſent, ſaid in a tone of reſentment, "This is the fourth family which I have endeavoured to make happy by this news; and inſtead of being thanked for the intelligence, all are afraid to hear it."

At length, however, the clouds of doubt, miſtruſt, and apprehenſion va⯑niſhed, the clear ſunſhine of joy beamed upon every heart, and every eye was bathed in tears of exultation. Yet thoſe overwhelming emotions were empoiſon⯑ed by bitter regrets. Every individual had to lament ſome victim to whom he was bound by the ties of nature, of grati⯑tude, or of affection; and many were doomed to mourn over a friend, a father, [183] or a huſband, whom a month, a week, a day would have ſnatched from death. With peculiar pangs thoſe victims were regretted, who were led to execution, to the number of nearly ſixty, on the 27th of July, without guards, the military having been called to the aid of the con⯑vention on the arreſt of Robeſpierre. It was recollected when too late, it was re⯑echoed through Paris with a general feeling of remorſe, that one word might have reſcued thoſe laſt martyrs of tyranny from death, and that yet they were ſuf⯑fered to periſh.

If any private individual had from the gallery, or at the bar of the convention, demanded a reſpite, there is no doubt it would immediately have been granted. The heart dilates at the idea of that ſub⯑lime happineſs which he would have prepared for himſelf, who ſhould thus have reſcued the innocent. What evil could malignity or misfortune have in⯑flicted [184] upon a mind, which could have re⯑pelled them with the conſciouſneſs of ſuch an action? But tyranny, like "guilt, makes cowards of us all;" every man trembled for himſelf; the event of the day yet hung in ſuſpenſe, and the ſuf⯑ferers were left to die.

Soon after the execution of Robeſ⯑pierre, the committee of general ſafety appointed a deputation of its members to viſit the priſons, and ſpeak the words of comfort to the priſoners; to hear from their own lips the motives of their cap⯑tivity, and to change the bloody rolls of proſcription into regiſters of promiſed freedom. In the mean time orders for liberty arrived in glad ſucceſſion; and the priſons of Paris, ſo lately the abodes of hopeleſs miſery, now exhibited ſcenes which an angel of mercy might have contemplated with pleaſure.

The firſt perſons releaſed from the Luxembourg were monſ. and madame [185] Bitauby, two days after the fall of Robe⯑ſpierre. When they departed, the pri⯑ſoners, to the amount of nine hundred perſons, formed a lane to ſee them paſs; they embraced them, they bathed them with tears, they overwhelmed them with benedictions, they hailed with tranſport the moment which gave themſelves the earneſt of returning freedom: but the ſoul has emotions for which the lips have no utterance, and the feelings of ſuch moments may be imagined, but cannot be defined.

Crowds of people were conſtantly aſ⯑ſembled at the gates of the priſons, to enjoy the luxury of ſeeing the priſoners ſnatched from their living tombs, and reſtored to freedom: that very people, who had beheld in ſtupid ſilence the daily work of death, now melted in tears over the ſufferers, and filled the air with acclamations at their releaſe.

Among a multitude of affecting ſcenes [186] which paſſed at thoſe priſon-doors, where the wife, after a ſeparation like that of death, again embraced her huſband—where children clung upon the necks of their long-loſt parents—none were more intereſting than the unbounded tranſ⯑ports of a little boy of ſix years of age, the ſon of monſ. de F [...], when his father met him at the gate, and while he preſſed him in his arms with an emotion which choked his voice. This child was particularly remarked, having en⯑gaged the affections of many perſons in the neighbourhood by his behaviour dur⯑ing his father's long confinement. He had never failed to come every day bounding along the terrace of the Lux⯑embourg, till he approached the walls of the priſon; and when he reached the ſentinel, he always pulled off his hat very reſpectfully, and, looking up in his face with a ſupplicating air, enquired, Citoyen, vous me permettrez de ſaluer mon [187] papa ^*? and unleſs when he ſpoke to thoſe "who never had a ſon," his petition was generally granted. He then uſed to kiſs his hands again and again to his fa⯑ther, and play over his ſportive tricks before him, while the parent's tears fol⯑lowed each other in ſwift ſucceſſion.

All the little artifices which affection had prompted to cheat the watchful ſeve⯑rity of unrelenting jailors, and ſoften the agonies of ſeparation by the charm of mutual intercourſe, were now diſcloſed. And it was found that love and friend⯑ſhip had been more vigilant than ſuſpi⯑cion itſelf; had eluded its wakeful eye; and, in ſpite of triple bolts, and guards, and ſpies, had poured forth thoſe effu⯑ſions of tenderneſs, thoſe aſſurances of fidelity not to be ſhaken by the frown of tyrants, which cheered the gloom of the priſon, and awakened in the heart [188] of the captive thoſe luxurious feelings that ariſe when

Sometimes pieces of paper careleſsly torn, and ſent at different periods wrapped round fruit or vegetables, when the ſcat⯑tered ſcraps were rejoined by the pri⯑ſoner, communicated the tidings he was moſt anxious to hear. Sometimes a tender billet was found incloſed within a roaſted fowl; and when the period arrived at which no nouriſhment was ſuffered to be ſent to the priſoners, the fainting frame was occaſionally revived by rich and cordial wines, which were conveyed on the pretence of ſickneſs, labelled as bottles of medicine. But one of the pious frauds moſt ſucceſsfully employed was the agency of a dog. His maſter was confined in the priſon of the Lux⯑embourg, [189] and the faithful animal con⯑trived every day to get into the priſon, and penetrate as far as his chamber, when he uſed to overwhelm him with careſſes, and ſeem to participate in his diſtreſs. His wife, who was at liberty, but deprived of all intercourſe with her huſband, uſed to careſs the dog upon his return from the priſon with the ſame kind of emotion with which Werter gazed upon the little ragged boy whom he ſent to ſee Charlotte when he was pre⯑vented from ſeeing her himſelf. At length the idea ſuggeſted itſelf to the lady of incloſing a billet within the dog's collar; ſhe contrived to give her huſband ſome intimation of her ſcheme, which ſhe immediately put in practice. From that period the four-legged courier, fur⯑niſhed with his inviſible packet, march⯑ed boldly forward every day at the ap⯑pointed hour through hoſts of foes, and, in defiance of revolutionary edicts, laid [190] his diſpatches and his perſon at his maſ⯑ter's feet.

Paris was now converted into a ſcene of enthuſiaſtic pleaſure. The theatres, the public walks, the ſtreets, reſounded with the ſongs of rejoicing; the people indulged themſelves in all the frolic gai⯑ety which belongs to their character; and all the world knows that joy is no where ſo joyous as at Paris, which ſeems the natural region of Pleaſure, who, though ſcared away for a while by ſullen ty⯑rants, ſoon returns upon her light wing, like the wandering dove, and appears to find on no other ſpot her proper place of reſt.

Upon the fall of Robeſpierre, the ter⯑rible ſpell which bound the land of France was broken; the ſhrieking whirl⯑winds, the black precipices, the bottom⯑leſs gulphs, ſuddenly vaniſhed; and re⯑viving nature covered the waſtes with flowers, and the rocks with verdure.

[191] All the fountains of public proſperity and public happineſs were indeed poiſon⯑ed by that malignant genius, and there⯑fore the ſtreams have ſince occaſionally run bitter; but the waters are regaining their purity, are returning to their natu⯑ral channels, and are no longer diſturb⯑ed and ſullied in their courſe.

I ſhall, in a ſhort time, ſend you an account of the events which have ſuc⯑ceeded the fall of Robeſpierre, and which wind up the ſingular drama of re⯑volutionary government conformably to the moſt rigid rules of poetical juſtice; or rather let me ſay, that we ſee heaven calming the doubts of human weakneſs on its myſterious ways, by the triumph of innocence and the expiation of guilt.

The eventful ſcenes of the laſt winter will lead us to the preſent moment at which revolutionary government ceaſes, and a new conſtitution is preſented to the people of France. The veſſel of [192] the ſtate, built with toil and trouble, and cemented with blood, will ſoon be launch⯑ed. We have yet ſeen nothing but diſ⯑jointed planks, and heard only the diſ⯑cordant turbulence of the hammer and the anvil. The fabric is at length erect⯑ed; and it now remains to be tried, if it be framed of materials ſufficiently firm and durable to defy the ſhock of the conflicting elements, and float majeſti⯑cally down the ſtream of time.