Читать книгу A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795, Complete - Charlotte Biggs - Страница 41

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I did not, as I promiſed, write immediately on my return from Chantilly; the perſon by whom I intended to ſend my letter having already ſet out for England, and the rule I have obſerved for the laſt three months of entruſting nothing to the poſt but what relates to our family affairs, is now more than ever neceſſary. I have before requeſted, and I muſt now inſiſt, that you make no alluſion to any political matter whatever, nor even mention the name of any political perſon. Do not imagine that you are qualified to judge of what is prudent, or what may be written with ſafety—I repeat, no one in England can form an idea of the ſuſpicion that pervades every part of the French government.

I cannot venture to anſwer deciſively your queſtion reſpecting the King—indeed the ſubject is ſo painful to me, that I have hitherto avoided reverting to it. There certainly was, as you obſerve, ſome ſudden alteration in the diſpoſitions of the Aſſembly between the end of the trial and the final judgement. The cauſes were moſt probably various, and muſt be ſought for in the worſt vices of our nature—cruelty, avarice, and cowardice. Many, I doubt not, were guided only by the natural malignity of their hearts; many acted from fear, and expected to purchaſe impunity for former compliances with the court by this popular expiation; a large number are alſo ſuppoſed to have been paid by the Duke of Orleanſ—whether for the gratification of malice or ambition, time muſt develope.—But, whatever were the motives, the reſult was an iniquitous combination of the worſt of a ſet of men, before ſelected from all that was bad in the nation, to profane the name of juſtice—to ſacrifice an unfortunate, but not a guilty Prince—and to fix an indelible ſtain on the country.

Among thoſe who gave their opinion at large, you will obſerve Paine: and, as I intimated in a former letter, it ſeems he was at that time rather allured by the vanity of making a ſpeech that ſhould be applauded, than by any real deſire of injuring the King. Such vanity, however, is not pardonable: a man has a right to ruin himſelf, or to make himſelf ridiculous; but when his vanity becomes baneful to others, as it has all the effect, ſo does it merit the puniſhment, of vice.

Of all the reſt, Condorcet has moſt powerfully diſguſted me. The avowed wickedneſs of Thuriot or Marat inſpires one with horror; but this cold philoſophic hypocrite excites contempt as well as deteſtation. He ſeemſ to have wavered between a deſire to preſerve the reputation of humanity, which he has affected, and that of gratifying the real depravity of hiſ mind. Would one have expected, that a ſpeech full of benevolent ſyſtems, mild ſentiments, and averſion from the effuſion of human blood, was to end in a vote for, and recommendation of, the immediate execution of hiſ ſovereign?—But ſuch a conduct is worthy of him, who has repaid the benefits of his patron and friend [The Duke de la Rochefaucault.] by a perſecution which ended in his murder.

You will have ſeen, that the King made ſome trifling requeſts to be granted after his deceaſe, and that the Convention ordered him to be told, that the nation, "always great, always juſt," accorded them in part. Yet this juſt and magnanimous people refuſed him a preparation of only three days, and allowed him but a few hourſ—ſuffered his remains to be treated with the moſt ſcandalous indecency—and debated ſeriouſly, whether or no the Queen ſhould receive ſome little tokens of affection he had left for her.

The King's enemies had ſo far ſucceeded in depreciating his perſonal courage, that even his friends were apprehenſive he might not ſuſtain hiſ laſt moments with dignity. The event proves how much injuſtice has been done him in this reſpect, as well as in many others. His behaviour waſ that of a man who derived his fortitude from religion—it was that of pious reſignation, not oſtentatious courage; it was marked by none of thoſe inſtances of levity and indifference which, at ſuch a time, are rather ſymptoms of diſtraction than reſolution; he exhibited the compoſure of an innocent mind, and the ſeriouſneſs that became the occaſion; he ſeemed to be occupied in preparing for death, but not to fear it.—I doubt not but the time will come, when thoſe who have ſacrificed him may envy the laſt moments of Louis the Sixteenth!

That the King was not guilty of the principal charges brought againſt him, has been proved indubitably—not altogether by the aſſertions of thoſe who favour him, but by the confeſſion of his enemies. He was, for example, accuſed of planning the inſurrection of the tenth of Auguſt; yet not a day paſſes that both parties in the Convention are not diſputing the priority of their efforts to dethrone him, and to erect a republic; and they date their machinations long before the period on which they attribute the firſt aggreſſion to the King.—Mr. Sourdat, and ſeveral other writers, have very ably demonſtrated the falſehood of theſe charges; but the circulation of ſuch pamphlets was dangerouſ—of courſe, ſecret and limited; while thoſe which tended to deceive and prejudice the people were diſperſed with profuſion, at the expence of the government.*

* Poſtſcript of the Courier de l'Egalite, Sept. 29: "The preſent miniſter (Rolland) takes every poſſible means in hiſ power to enlighten and inform the people in whatever concerns their real intereſts. For this purpoſe he has cauſed to be printed and diſtributed, in abundance, the accounts and papers relative to the events of the tenth of Auguſt. We have yet at our office a ſmall number of theſe publications, which we have diſtributed to our ſubſcribers, and we ſtill give them to any of our fellow-citizenſ who have opportunities of circulating them."

I have ſeen one of theſe written in coarſe language, and replete with vulgar abuſe, purpoſely calculated for the lower claſſes in the country, who are more open to groſs impoſitions than thoſe of the ſame rank in towns; yet I have no doubt, in my own mind, that all theſe artificeſ would have proved unavailing, had the deciſion been left to the nation at large: but they were intimidated, if not convinced; and the mandate of the Convention, which forbids this ſovereign people to exerciſe their judgement, was obeyed with as much ſubmiſſion, and perhaps more reluctance, than an edict of Louis the fourteenth.*

* The King appealed, by his counſel, to the People; but the convention, by a decree, declared his appeal of no validity, and forbade all perſons to pay attention to it, under the ſevereſt penalties.

The French ſeem to have no energy but to deſtroy, and to reſiſt nothing but gentleneſs or infancy. They bend under a firm or oppreſſive adminiſtration, but become reſtleſs and turbulent under a mild Prince or a minority.

The fate of this unfortunate Monarch has made me reflect, with great ſeriouſneſs, on the conduct of our oppoſition-writers in England. The literary banditti who now govern France began their operations by ridiculing the King's private character—from ridicule they proceeded to calumny, and from calumny to treaſon; and perhaps the firſt libel that degraded him in the eyes of his ſubjects opened the path from the palace to the ſcaffold.—I do not mean to attribute the ſame perniciouſ intentions to the authors on your ſide the Channel, as I believe them, for the moſt part, to be only mercenary, and that they would write panegyrics as ſoon as ſatires, were they equally profitable. I know too, that there is no danger of their producing revolutions in England—we do not ſuffer our principles to be corrupted by a man becauſe he has the art of rhyming nothings into conſequence, nor ſuffer another to overturn the government becauſe he is an orator. Yet, though theſe men may not be very miſchievous, they are very reprehenſible; and, in a moment like the preſent, contempt and neglect ſhould ſupply the place of that puniſhment againſt which our liberty of the preſs ſecures them.

It is not for a perſon no better informed than myſelf to pronounce on ſyſtems of government—ſtill leſs do I affect to have more enlarged notions than the generality of mankind; but I may, without riſking thoſe imputations, venture to ſay, I have no childiſh or irrational deference for the perſons of Kings. I know they are not, by nature, better than other men, and a neglected or vicious education may often render them worſe. This does not, however, make me leſs reſpect the office. I reſpect it as the means choſen by the people to preſerve internal peace and order—to baniſh corruption and petty tyrants ["And fly from petty tyrants to the throne."—Goldſmith]—and give vigour to the execution of the laws.

Regarded in this point of view, I cannot but lament the mode which haſ lately prevailed of endeavouring to alienate the conſideration due to our King's public character, by perſonal ridicule. If an individual were attacked in this manner, his houſe beſet with ſpies, his converſation with his family liſtened to, and the moſt trifling actions of his life recorded, it would be deemed unfair and illiberal, and he who ſhould practice ſuch meanneſs would be thought worthy of no puniſhment more reſpectful than what might be inflicted by an oaken cenſor, or an admonitory heel.—But it will be ſaid, a King is not an individual, and that ſuch a habit, or ſuch an amuſement, is beneath the dignity of hiſ character. Yet would it be but conſiſtent in thoſe who labour to prove, by the public acts of Kings, that they are leſs than men, not to exact, that, in their private lives, they ſhould be more.—The great prototype of modern ſatyriſts, Junius, does not allow that any credit ſhould be given a Monarch for his domeſtic virtues; is he then to be reduced to an individual, only to ſcrutinize his foibles, and is his ſtation to ſerve only as the medium of their publicity? Are theſe literary miners to penetrate the receſſes of private life, only to bring to light the droſs? Do they analyſe only to diſcover poiſons? Such employments may be congenial to their natures, but have little claim to public remuneration. The merit of a detractor is not much ſuperior to that of a flatterer; nor is a Prince more likely to be amended by imputed follies, than by undeſerved panegyrics. If any man wiſhed to repreſent his King advantageouſly, it could not be done better than by remarking, that, after all the watchings of aſſiduous neceſſity, and the laboriouſ reſearches of intereſted curioſity, it appears, that his private life affords no other ſubjects of ridicule than, that he is temperate, domeſtic, and oeconomical, and, as is natural to an active mind, wiſheſ to be informed of whatever happens not to be familiar to him. It were to be deſired that ſome of theſe accuſations were applicable to thoſe who are ſo much ſcandalized at them: but they are not littleneſſeſ—the littleneſs is in him who condeſcends to report them; and I have often wondered that men of genius ſhould make a traffic of gleaning from the refuſe of anti-chambers, and retailing the anecdotes of pages and footmen!

You will perceive the kind of publications I allude to; and I hope the ſituation of France, and the fate of its Monarch, may ſuggeſt to the authors a more worthy employ of their talents, than that of degrading the executive power in the eyes of the people.