A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795, Complete. Charlotte Biggs
an exciſeman to a tobacco warehouſe, would reconcile this domeſtic inquiſition; for the municipalities here violate your tranquillity in this manner under any pretext they chooſe, and that too with an armed cortege ſufficient to undertake the ſiege of your houſe in form.
About fifteen departments are in inſurrection, oſtenſibly in behalf of the expelled Deputies; but I believe I am authorized in ſaying, it is by no means the deſire of the people at large to interfere. All who are capable of reflection conſider the diſpute merely as a family quarrel, and are not partial enough to either party to adopt its cauſe. The tropps they have already raiſed have been collected by the perſonal intereſt of the members who contrived to eſcape, or by an attempt of a few of the royaliſts to make one half of the faction ſubſervient to the deſtruction of the other. If you judge of the principles of the nation by the ſucceſs of the Foederaliſts,* and the ſuperiority of the Convention, you will be extremely deceived; for it is demonſtrable, that neither the moſt zealous partizans of the ancient ſyſtem, nor thoſe of the aboliſhed conſtitution, have taken any ſhare in the diſpute; and the departments moſt notoriouſly ariſtocratic have all ſignified their adherence to the proceedings of the Aſſembly.
* On the 31ſt of May and 2d of June, the Convention, who had been for ſome months ſtruggling with the Jacobins and the municipality of Paris, was ſurrounded by an armed force: the moſt moderate of the Deputies (thoſe diſtinguiſhed by the name of Briſſotins,) were either menaced into a compliance with the meaſures of the oppoſite faction, or arreſted; others took flight, and, by repreſenting the violence and ſlavery in which the majority of the Convention waſ holden, excited ſome of the departments to take arms in their favour.—This conteſt, during its ſhort exiſtence, was called the war of the Foederaliſts.—The reſult is well known.
Thoſe who would gladly take an active part in endeavouring to eſtabliſh a good government, are averſe from riſking their lives and properties in the cauſe of Briſſot or Condorcet.—At Amiens, where almoſt every individual is an ariſtocrate, the fugitive Deputies could not procure the leaſt encouragement, but the town would have received Dumouriez, and proclaimed the King without oppoſition. But this ſchiſm in the legiſlature is conſidered as a mere conteſt of banditti, about the diviſion of ſpoil, not calculated to excite an intereſt in thoſe they have plundered and oppreſſed.
The royaliſts who have been ſo miſtaken as to make any effort on thiſ occaſion, will, I fear, fall a ſacrifice, having acted for the moſt part without union or concert; and their junction with the Deputies renderſ them ſuſpicious, if not odious, to their own party. The extreme difficulty, likewiſe, of communication between the departments, and the ſtrict watch obſerved over all travellers, form another obſtacle to the ſucceſs of any attempt at preſent; and, on the whole, the only hope of deliverance for the French ſeems to reſt upon the allied armies and the inſurgents of La Vendee.
When I ſay this, I do not aſſert from prejudices, which often deceive, nor from conjecture, that is always fallible; but from unexceptionable information—from an intercourſe with various ranks of people, and a minute obſervance of all. I have ſcarcely met with a ſingle perſon who does not relate the progreſs of the inſurgents in La Vendee with an air of ſatiſfaction, or who does not appear to expect with impatience the ſurrender of Conde: and even their language, perhaps unconſciouſly, betrays their ſentiments, for I remark, they do not, when they ſpeak of any victory gained by the arms of the republic, ſay, Nous, or Notre armee, but, Les Francais, and, Les troupes de la republique;—and that always in a tone as though they were ſpeaking of an enemy.—Adieu.
June 30, 1793.
Our modern travellers are moſtly either ſentimental or philoſophical, or courtly or political; and I do not remember to have read any who deſcribe the manner of living among the gentry and middle ranks of life in France. I will, therefore, relieve your attention for a moment from our actual diſtreſſes, and give you the picture of a day as uſually paſſed by thoſe who have eaſy fortunes and no particular employment.—The ſocial aſſemblage of a whole family in the morning, as in England, is not very common, for the French do not generally breakfaſt: when they do, it iſ without form, and on fruit, bread, wine, and water, or ſometimes coffee; but tea is ſcarcely ever uſed, except by the ſick. The morning iſ therefore paſſed with little intercourſe, and in extreme diſhabille. The men loiter, fiddle, work tapeſtry, and ſometimes read, in a robe de chambre, or a jacket and "pantalons;" [Trowſers.] while the ladies, equipped only in a ſhort manteau and petticoat, viſit their birds, knit, or, more frequently, idle away the forenoon without doing any thing. It is not cuſtomary to walk or make viſits before dinner, and if by chance any one calls, he is received in the bedchamber. At half paſt one or two they dine, but without altering the negligence of their apparel, and the buſineſs of the toilette does not begin till immediately after the repaſt. About four, viſits of ceremony begin, and may be made till ſix or ſeven according to the ſeaſon; but thoſe who intend paſſing an evening at any particular houſe, go before ſix, and the card parties generally finiſh between eight and nine. People then adjourn to their ſupper engagements, which are more common than thoſe for dinner, and are, for the moſt part, in different places, and conſidered as a ſeparate thing from the earlier amuſements of the evening. They keep better hours than the Engliſh, moſt families being in bed by half paſt ten. The theatreſ are alſo regulated by theſe ſober habits, and the dramatic repreſentations are uſually over by nine.
A day paſſed in this manner is, as you may imagine, ſuſceptible of much ennui, and the French are accordingly more ſubject to it than to any other complaint, and hold it in greateſt dread than either ſickneſs or miſfortune. They have no conception how one can remain two hours alone without being ennuye a la mort; and but few, comparatively ſpeaking, read for amuſement: you may enter ten houſes without ſeeing a book; and it is not to be wondered at that people, who make a point of ſtaying at home all the morning, yet do not read, are embarraſſed with the diſpoſition of ſo much time.—It is this that occaſions ſuch a general fondneſs for domeſtic animals, and ſo many barbarous muſicians, and male-workers of tapeſtry and tambour.
I cannot but attribute this littleneſs and diſlike of morning exerciſe to the quantity of animal food the French eat at night, and to going to reſt immediately after it, in conſequence of which their activity is checked by indigeſtions, and they feel heavy and uncomfortable for half the ſucceeding day.—The French pique themſelves on being a gayer nation than the Engliſh; but they certainly muſt exclude their mornings from the account, for the forlorn and neglected figure of a Frenchman till dinner is a very antidote to chearfulneſs, eſpecially if contraſted with the animation of our countrymen, whoſe forenoon is paſſed in riding or walking, and who make themſelves at leaſt decent before they appear even in their own families.
The great difficulty the French have in finding amuſement makes them averſe from long reſidences in the country, and it is very uncommon for thoſe who can afford only one houſe not to prefer a town; but thoſe whoſe fortune will admit of it, live about three months of the year in the country, and the reſt in the neighbouring town. This, indeed, as they manage it, is no very conſiderable expence, for the ſame furniture often ſerves for both habitations, and the one they quit being left empty, requires no perſon to take charge of it, eſpecially as houſe-breaking iſ very uncommon in France; at leaſt it was ſo before the revolution, when the police was more ſtrict, and the laws againſt robbers were more ſevere.
You will ſay, I often deſcribe the habits and manners of a nation ſo frequently viſited, as though I were writing from Kamſchatka or Japan; yet it is certain, as I have remarked above, that thoſe who are merely itinerant have not opportunities of obſerving the modes of familiar life ſo well as one who is ſtationary, and travellers are in general too much occupied by more important obſervations to enter into the minute and trifling details which are the ſubject of my communications to you. But if your attention be ſometimes