A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795, Complete. Charlotte Biggs
of Amiens. I have ſeen no town in France ſo remarkable for a rude and unfeeling behaviour, and it is not fanciful to conjecture that the multitude of poor may tend in part to occaſion it. The conſtant view of a ſort of miſery that excites little compaſſion, of an intruſive neceſſity which one is more deſirous to repulſe than to relieve, cannot but render the heart callous, and the manners harſh. The avarice of commerce, which is here unaccompanied by its liberality, is glad to confound real diſtreſs with voluntary and idle indigence, till, in time, an abſence of feeling becomes part of the character; and the conſtant habit of petulant refuſals, or of acceding more from fatigue than benevolence, has perhaps a ſimilar effect on the voice, geſture, and external.
This place has been ſo often viſited by thoſe who deſcribe better than myſelf, that I have thought it unneceſſary to mention public buildings, or any thing equally obvious to the traveller or the reſident. The beauty and elegance of the cathedral have been celebrated for ages, and I only remind you of it to indulge my national vanity in the reflection that one of the moſt ſplendid monuments of Gothic architecture in France is the work of our Engliſh anceſtors. The edifice is in perfect preſervation, and the hand of power has not yet ventured to appropriate the plate or ornaments; but this forbearance will moſt probably give way to temptation and impunity. The Convention will reſpect ancient prejudices no longer than they ſuppoſe the people have courage to defend them, and the latter ſeem ſo entirely ſubdued, that, however they may murmur, I do not think any ſerious reſiſtance is to be expected from them, even in behalf of the relics of St. Firmin. [St. Firmin, the patron of Amiens, where he is, in many of the ſtreets, repreſented with his head in his hand.]—The buſt of Henry the Fourth, which was a preſent from the Monarch himſelf, is baniſhed the town-houſe, where it was formerly placed, though, I hope, ſome royaliſt has taken poſſeſſion of it, and depoſited it in ſafety till better times. This once popular Prince iſ now aſſociated with Nero and Caligula, and it is "leze nation" to ſpeak of him to a thorough republican.—I know not if the French had before the revolution reached the acme of perfection, but they have certainly been retrograding very faſt ſince. Every thing that uſed to create fondneſſ and veneration is deſpiſed, and things are eſteemed only in proportion aſ they are worthleſs. Perhaps the buſt of Robeſpierre may one day replace that of Henry the Fourth, and, to ſpeak in the ſtyle of an eaſtern epiſtle, "what can I ſay more?"
Should you ever travel this way with Gray in your hand, you will look for the Urſuline convent, and regret the paintings he mentions: but you may recollect, for your conſolation, that they are merely pretty, and remarkable only for being the work of one of the nuns.—Gray, who ſeemſ to have had that enthuſiaſtic reſpect for religious orders common to young minds, admired them on this account; and numbers of Engliſh travellers have, I dare ſay, prepoſſeſſed by ſuch an authority, experienced the ſame diſappointment I myſelf felt on viſiting the Urſuline church. Many of the chapels belonging to theſe communities were very ſhowy and much decorated with gilding and ſculpture: ſome of them are ſold for a mere trifle, but the greateſt part are filled with corn and forage, and on the door is inſcribed "Magazin des armees." The change is almoſt incredible to thoſe who remember, that leſs than four years ago the Catholic religion was ſtrictly practiſed, and the violation of theſe ſanctuaries deemed ſacrilegious. Our great hiſtorian [Gibbon] might well ſay "the influence of ſuperſtition is fluctuating and precarious;" though, in the preſent inſtance, it has rather been reſtrained than ſubdued; and the people, who have not been convinced, but intimidated, ſecretly lament theſe innovations, and perhaps reproach themſelves conſcientiouſly with their ſubmiſſion.—Yours.
June 20, 1793.
Mercier, in his Tableau de Paris, notices, on ſeveral occaſions, the little public ſpirit exiſting among his countrymen—it is alſo obſervable, that many of the laws and cuſtoms preſume on this deficiency, and the name of republicans has by no means altered that cautiouſ diſpoſition which makes the French conſider either miſfortunes or benefits only as their perſonal intereſt is affected by them.—I am juſt returned from a viſit to Abbeville, where we were much alarmed on Sunday by a fire at the Paraclete convent. The tocſin rang great part of the day, and the principal ſtreet of the town was in danger of being deſtroyed. In ſuch circumſtances, you will ſuppoſe, that people of all ranks eagerly crouded to offer their ſervice, and endeavour to ſtop the progreſs of ſo terrible a calamity. By no meanſ—the gates of the town were ſhut to prevent its entire evacuation, many hid themſelves in garrets and cellars, and dragoons patrolled the ſtreets, and even entered the houſes, to force the inhabitants to aſſiſt in procuring water; while the conſternation, uſually the effect of ſuch accidents, was only owing to the fear of being obliged to aid the ſufferers.—This employment of military coercion for what humanity alone ſhould dictate, is not aſcribeable to the principles of the preſent government—it was the ſame before the revolution, (except that the agents of the ancient ſyſtem were not ſo brutal and deſpotic as the ſoldiers of the republic,) and compulſion was always deemed neceſſary where there was no ſtimulant but the general intereſt.
In England, at any alarm of the fort, all diſtinction of ranks iſ forgotten, and every one is ſolicitous to contribute as much as he iſ able to the ſafety of his fellow-citizens; and, ſo far from an armed force being requiſite to procure aſſiſtance, the greateſt difficulty iſ to repreſs the too-officious zeal of the croud.—I do not pretend to account for this national diſparity, but I fear what a French gentleman once ſaid to me of the Pariſians is applicable to the general character, "Ils ſont tous egoiſtes," ["They are all ſelfiſh!"] and they would not do a benevolent action at the riſk of ſoiling a coat or tearing a ruffle.
Diſtruſt of the aſſignats, and ſcarcity of bread, have occaſioned a law to oblige the farmers, in every part of the republic, to ſell their corn at a certain price, infinitely lower than what they have exacted for ſome months paſt. The conſequence of this was, that, on the ſucceeding market days, no corn came to market, and detachments of dragoons are obliged to ſcour the country to preſerve us from a famine. If it did not convey an idea both of the deſpotiſm and want with which the nation is afflicted, one ſhould be amuſed by the ludicrous figures of the farmers, who enter the town preceded by ſoldiers, and repoſing with doleful viſages on their ſacks of wheat. Sometimes you ſee a couple of dragoons leading in triumph an old woman and an aſs, who follow with lingering ſteps their military conductors; and the very aſs ſeems to ſympathize with hiſ miſtreſs on the diſaſter of ſelling her corn at a reduced price, and for paper, when ſhe had hoped to hoard it till a counter-revolution ſhould bring back gold and ſilver.
The farmers are now, perhaps, the greateſt ariſtocrates in the country; but as both their patriotiſm and their ariſtocracy have been a mere calculation of intereſt, the ſeverity exerciſed on their avarice is not much to be regretted. The original fault is, however, in an uſurped government, which inſpires no confidence, and which, to ſupply an adminiſtration laviſh beyond all example, has been obliged to iſſue ſuch an immenſe quantity of paper as nearly deſtroys its credit. In political, as in moral, vices, the firſt always neceſſitates a ſecond, and theſe muſt ſtill be ſuſtained by others; until, at length, the very ſenſe of right and wrong becomes impaired, and the latter is not only preferred from habit, but from choice.
Thus the arbitrary emiſſion of paper has been neceſſarily followed by ſtill more arbitrary decrees to ſupport it. For inſtance—the people have been obliged to ſell their corn at a ſtated price, which has again been the ſource of various and general vexations. The farmers, irritated by this meaſure, concealed their grain, or ſold it privately, rather than bring it to market.—Hence, ſome were ſupplied with bread, and otherſ abſolutely in want of it. This was remedied by the interference of the military, and a general ſearch for corn has taken place in all houſeſ without exception, in order to diſcover if any was ſecreted; even our bedchambers were examined on this occaſion: but we begin to be ſo accuſtomed