Читать книгу A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795, Complete - Charlotte Biggs - Страница 19

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Nothing more powerfully excites the attention of a ſtranger on his firſt arrival, than the number and wretchedneſs of the poor at Arras. In all places poverty claims compulſion, but here compaſſion is accompanied by horror—one dares not contemplate the object one commiſerates, and charity relieves with an averted eye. Perhaps with Him, who regardſ equally the forlorn beggar ſtretched on the threſhold, conſumed by filth and diſeaſe, and the blooming beauty who avoids while ſhe ſuccours him, the offering of humanity ſcarcely expiates the involuntary diſguſt; yet ſuch is the weakneſs of our nature, that there exiſts a degree of miſery againſt which one's ſenſes are not proof, and benevolence itſelf revoltſ at the appearance of the poor of Arras.—Theſe are not the cold and faſtidious reflections of an unfeeling mind—they are not made without pain: nor have I often felt the want of riches and conſequence ſo much aſ in my incapacity to promote ſome means of permanent and ſubſtantial remedy for the evils I have been deſcribing. I have frequently enquired the cauſe of this ſingular miſery, but can only learn that it always haſ been ſo. I fear it is, that the poor are without energy, and the rich without generoſity. The decay of manufactures ſince the laſt century muſt have reduced many families to indigence. Theſe have been able to ſubſiſt on the refuſe of luxury, but, too ſupine for exertion, they have ſought for nothing more; while the great, diſcharging their conſcienceſ with the ſuperfluity of what adminiſtered to their pride, foſtered the evil, inſtead of endeavouring to remedy it. But the benevolence of the French is not often active, nor extenſive; it is more frequently a religious duty than a ſentiment. They content themſelves with affording a mere exiſtence to wretchedneſs; and are almoſt ſtrangers to thoſe enlightened and generous efforts which act beyond the moment, and ſeek not only to relieve poverty, but to baniſh it. Thus, through the frigid and indolent charity of the rich, the miſery which was at firſt accidental is perpetuated, beggary and idleneſs become habitual, and are tranſmitted, like more fortunate inheritances, from one generation to another.—This is not a mere conjecture—I have liſtened to the hiſtorieſ of many of theſe unhappy outcaſts, who were more than thirty years old, and they have all told me, they were born in the ſtate in which I beheld them, and that they did not remember to have heard that their parentſ were in any other. The National Aſſembly profeſs to effectuate an entire regeneration of the country, and to eradicate all evils, moral, phyſical, and political. I heartily wiſh the numerous and miſerable poor, with which Arras abounds, may become one of the firſt objects of reform; and that a nation which boaſts itſelf the moſt poliſhed, the moſt powerful, and the moſt philoſophic in the world, may not offer to the view ſo many objects ſhocking to humanity.

The citadel of Arras is very ſtrong, and, as I am told, the chef d'oeuvre of Vauban; but placed with ſo little judgement, that the military call it la belle inutile [the uſeleſs beauty]. It is now uninhabited, and wears an appearance of deſolation—the commandant and all the officers of the ancient government having been forced to abandon it; their houſeſ alſo are much damaged, and the gardens entirely deſtroyed.—I never heard that this popular commotion had any other motive than the general war of the new doctrines on the old.

I am ſorry to ſee that moſt of the volunteers who go to join the army are either old men or boys, tempted by extraordinary pay and ſcarcity of employ. A cobler who has been uſed to rear canary-birds for Mad. de ____, brought us this morning all the birds he was poſſeſſed of, and told us he was going to-morrow to the frontiers. We aſked him why, at hiſ age, he ſhould think of joining the army. He ſaid, he had already ſerved, and that there were a few months unexpired of the time that would entitle him to his penſion.—"Yes; but in the mean while you may get killed; and then of what ſervice will your claim to a penſion be?"—"N'ayez pas peur, Madame—Je me menagerai bien—on ne ſe bat pas pour ceſ gueux la comme pour ſon Roi."*

* "No fear of that, Madam—I'll take good care of myſelf: a man doeſ not fight for ſuch beggarly raſcals as theſe as he would for hiſ King."

M. de ____ is juſt returned from the camp of Maulde, where he has been to ſee his ſon. He ſays, there is great diſorder and want of diſcipline, and that by ſome means or other the common ſoldiers abound more in money, and game higher, than their officers. There are two young women, inhabitants of the town of St. Amand, who go conſtantly out on all ſkirmiſhing parties, exerciſe daily with the men, and have killed ſeveral of the enemy. They are both pretty—one only ſixteen, the other a year or two older. Mr. de ____ ſaw them as they were juſt returning from a reconnoitring party. Perhaps I ought to have been aſhamed after thiſ recital to decline an invitation from Mr. de R___'s ſon to dine with him at the camp; but I cannot but feel that I am an extreme coward, and that I ſhould eat with no appetite in ſight of an Auſtrian army. The very idea of theſe modern Camillas terrifies me—their creation ſeems an error of nature.*

* Their name was Fernig; they were natives of St. Amand, and of no remarkable origin. They followed Dumouriez into Flanders, where they ſignalized themſelves greatly, and became Aides-de-Camp to that General. At the time of his defection, one of them was ſhot by a ſoldier, whoſe regiment ſhe was endeavouring to gain over. Their houſe having been razed by the Auſtrians at the beginning of the war, was rebuilt at the expence of the nation; but, upon their participation in Dumouriez' treachery, a ſecond decree of the Aſſembly again levelled it with the ground.

Our hoſt, whoſe politeneſs is indefatigable, accompanied us a few dayſ ago to St. Eloy, a large and magnificent abbey, about ſix miles from Arras. It is built on a terrace, which commands the ſurrounding country as far as Douay; and I think I counted an hundred and fifty ſteps from the houſe to the bottom of the garden, which is on a level with the road. The cloiſters are paved with marble, and the church neat and beautiful beyond deſcription. The iron work of the choir imitates flowers and foliage with ſo much taſte and delicacy, that (but for the colour) one would rather ſuppoſe it to be ſoil, than any durable material.—The monkſ ſtill remain, and although the decree has paſſed for their ſuppreſſion, they cannot ſuppoſe it will take place. They are moſtly old men, and, though I am no friend to theſe inſtitutions, they were ſo polite and hoſpitable that I could not help wiſhing they were permitted, according to the deſign of the firſt Aſſembly, to die in their habitationſ—eſpecially as the ſituation of St. Eloy renders the building uſeleſs for any other purpoſe.—A friend of Mr. de ____ has a charming country-houſe near the abbey, which he has been obliged to deny himſelf the enjoyment of, during the greateſt part of the ſummer; for whenever the family return to Arras, their perſons and their carriage are ſearched at the gate, as ſtrictly as though they were ſmugglers juſt arrived from the coaſt, under the pretence that they may aſſiſt the religious of St. Eloy in ſecuring ſome of their property, previous to the final ſeizure.

I obſerve, in walking the ſtreets here, that the common people ſtill retain much of the Spaniſh caſt of features: the women are remarkably plain, and appear ſtill more ſo by wearing faals. The faal is about two ells of black ſilk or ſtuff, which is hung, without taſte or form, on the head, and is extremely unbecoming: but it is worn only by the lower claſs, or by the aged and devotees.

I am a very voluminous correſpondent, but if I tire you, it is a proper puniſhment for your inſincerity in deſiring me to continue ſo. I have heard of a governor of one of our Weſt India iſlands who was univerſally deteſted by its inhabitants, but who, on going to England, found no difficulty in procuring addreſſes expreſſive of approbation and eſteem. The conſequence was, he came back and continued governor for life.—Do you make the application of my anecdote, and I ſhall perſevere in ſcribbling.—Every Yours.