Читать книгу A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795, Complete - Charlotte Biggs - Страница 31

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I arrived here the day on which a ball was given to celebrate the return of the volunteers who had gone to the aſſiſtance of Liſle.*

*The bombardment of Liſle commenced on the twenty-ninth of September, at three o'clock in the afternoon, and continued, almoſt without interruption, until the ſixth of October. Many of the public buildings, and whole quarters of the town, were ſo much damaged or deſtroyed, that the ſituation of the ſtreets were ſcarcely diſtinguiſhable. The houſes which the fire obliged their inhabitants to abandon, were pillaged by barbarians, more mercileſſ than the Auſtrians themſelves. Yet, amidſt theſe accumulated horrors, the Lillois not only preſerved their courage, but their preſence of mind: the rich incited and encouraged the poor; thoſe who were unable to aſſiſt with their labour, rewarded with their wealth: the men were employed in endeavouring to extinguiſh the fire of the buildings, or in preſerving their effects; while women and children ſnatched the opportunity of extinguiſhing the fuzes of the bombs as ſoon as they fell, at which they became very daring and dexterous. During the whole of this dreadful period, not one murmur, not one propoſition to ſurrender, was heard from any party. —The Convention decreed, amidſt the wildeſt enthuſiaſm of applauſe, that Liſle had deſerved well of the country. —Forty-two thouſand five hundred balls were fired, and the damageſ were eſtimated at forty millions of livres.

The French, indeed, never refuſe to rejoice when they are ordered; but aſ theſe feſtivities are not ſpontaneous effuſions, but official ordinances, and regulated with the ſame method as a tax or recruitment, they are of courſe languid and unintereſting. The whole of their hilarity ſeems to conſiſt in the movement of the dance, in which they are by not meanſ animated; and I have ſeen, even among the common people, a cotillion performed as gravely and as mechanically as the ceremonies of a Chineſe court.—I have always thought, with Sterne, that we were miſtaken in ſuppoſing the French a gay nation. It is true, they laugh much, have great geſticulation, and are extravagantly fond of dancing: but the laugh is the effect of habit, and not of a riſible ſenſation; the geſture iſ not the agitation of the mind operating upon the body, but conſtitutional volatility; and their love of dancing is merely the effect of a happy climate, (which, though mild, does not enervate,) and that love of action which uſually accompanies mental vacancy, when it is not counteracted by heat, or other phyſical cauſes.

I know ſuch an opinion, if publicly avowed, would be combated as falſe and ſingular; yet I appeal to thoſe who have at all ſtudied the French character, not as travellers, but by a reſidence amongſt them, for the ſupport of my opinion. Every one who underſtands the language, and haſ mixed much in ſociety, muſt have made the ſame obſervations.—See two Frenchmen at a diſtance, and the vehemence of their action, and the expreſſion of their features, ſhall make you conclude they are diſcuſſing ſome ſubject, which not only intereſts, but delights them. Enquire, and you will find they were talking of the weather, or the price of a waiſtcoat!—In England you would be tempted to call in a peace-officer at the loud tone and menacing attitudes with which two people here very amicably adjuſt a bargain for five livres.—In ſhort, we miſtake that for a mental quality which, in fact, is but a corporeal one; and, though the French may have many good and agreeable points of character, I do not include gaiety among the number.

I doubt very much of my friends will approve of their habitation. I confeſs I am by no means ſatiſfied with it myſelf; and, with regard to pecuniary conſideration, my engagement is not an advantageous one. —Madame Dorval, of whom I have taken the houſe, is a character very common in France, and over which I was little calculated to have the aſcendant. Officiouſly polite in her manners, and inflexibly attentive to her intereſt, ſhe ſeemingly acquieſces in every thing you propoſe. You would even fancy ſhe was ſolicitous to ſerve you; yet, after a thouſand gracious ſentiments, and as many implied eulogiums on her liberality and generoſity, you find her return, with unrelenting perſeverance, to ſome paltry propoſition, by which ſhe is to gain a few livres; and all this ſo civilly, ſo ſentimentally, and ſo determinedly, that you find yourſelf obliged to yield, and are duped without being deceived.

The lower claſs have here, as well as on your ſide of the water, the cuſtom of attributing to Miniſters and Governments ſome connection with, or controul over, the operations of nature. I remarked to a woman who brings me fruit, that the grapes were bad and dear this year—"Ah! mon Dieu, oui, ils ne murriſſent pas. Il me ſemble que tout va mal depuiſ qu'on a invente la nation." ["Ah! Lord, they don't ripen now.—For my part, I think nothing has gone well ſince the nation was firſt invented."]

I cannot, like the imitators of Sterne, tranſlate a chapter of ſentiment from every incident that occurs, or from every phyſiognomy I encounter; yet, in circumſtances like the preſent, the mind, not uſually obſerving, is tempted to comment.—I was in a milliner's ſhop to-day, and took notice on my entering, that its miſtreſs was, whilſt at her work, learning the Marſeilloiſ Hymn. [A patriotic air, at this time highly popular.] Before I had concluded my purchaſe, an officer came in to prepare her for the reception of four volunteers, whom ſhe was to lodge the two enſuing nights. She aſſented, indeed, very graciouſly, (for a French woman never loſes the command of her features,) but a moment after, the Marſeillois, which lay on the counter, was thrown aſide in a pet, and I dare ſay ſhe will not reſume her patriotic taſte, nor be reconciled to the revolution, until ſome days after the volunteers ſhall have changed their quarters.

This quartering of troops in private houſes appears to me the moſt grievous and impolitic of all taxes; it adds embarraſſment to expence, invades domeſtic comfort, and conveys ſuch an idea of military ſubjection, that I wonder any people ever ſubmits to it, or any government ever ventures to impoſe it.

I know not if the Engliſh are conſcious of their own importance at thiſ moment, but it is certain they are the centre of the hopes and fears of all parties, I might ſay of all Europe. The ariſtocrates wait with anxiety and ſolicitude a declaration of war, whilſt their opponentſ regard ſuch an event as pregnant with diſtreſs, and even as the ſignal of their ruin. The body of the people of both parties are averſe from increaſing the number of their enemies; but as the Convention may be directed by other motives than the public wiſh, it is impoſſible to form any concluſion on the ſubject. I am, of courſe, deſirous of peace, and ſhould be ſo from ſelfiſhneſs, if I were not from philanthropy, as a ceſſation of it at this time would diſconcert all our plans, and oblige us to ſeek refuge at ____, which has juſt all that is neceſſary for our happineſs, except what is moſt deſirable—a mild and dry atmoſphere.— Yours, &c.