Читать книгу A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795, Complete - Charlotte Biggs - Страница 59

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I have been out to-day for the firſt time ſince the arreſt of the Engliſh, and, though I have few acquaintances here, my adventure at the Hotel de Ville has gained me a ſort of popularity. I was ſaluted by many people I did not know, and overwhelmed with expreſſions of regret for what had happened, or congratulations on my having eſcaped ſo well.

The French are not commonly very much alive to the ſufferings of others, and it is ſome mortification to my vanity that I cannot, but at the expence of a reproaching conſcience, aſcribe the civilities I have experienced on this occaſion to my perſonal merit. It would doubtleſſ have been highly flattering to me to relate the tender and general intereſt I had excited even among this cold-hearted people, who ſcarcely feel for themſelves: but the truth is, they are diſpoſed to take the part of any one whom they think perſecuted by their government; and their repreſentative, Dumont, is ſo much deſpiſed in his private character, and deteſted in his public one, that it ſuffices to have been ill treated by him, to enſure one a conſiderable portion of the public good will.

This diſpoſition is not a little conſolatory, at a time when the whole rage of an oligarchical tyranny, though impotent againſt the Engliſh as a nation, meanly exhauſts itſelf on the few helpleſs individuals within itſ power. Embarraſſments accumulate and if Mr. Pitt's agents did not moſt obligingly write letters, and theſe letters happen to be intercepted juſt when they are moſt neceſſary, the Comite de Salut Publique would be at a loſs how to account for them.

Aſſignats have fallen into a diſcredit beyond example, an hundred and thirty livres having been given for one Louis-d'or; and, as if this were not the natural reſult of circumſtances like the preſent, a correſpondence between two Engliſhmen informs us, that it is the work of Mr. Pitt, who, with an unparalleled ingenuity, has contrived to ſend couriers to every town in France, to concert meaſures with the bankerſ for this purpoſe. But if we may believe Barrere, one of the members of the Committee, this atrocious policy of Mr. Pitt will not be unrevenged, for another intercepted letter contains aſſurances that an hundred thouſand men have taken up arms in England, and are preparing to march againſt the iniquitous metropolis that gives this obnoxious Miniſter ſhelter.

My ſituation is ſtill the ſame—I have no hope of returning to Amiens, and have juſt reaſon to be apprehenſive for my tranquillity here. I had a long converſation this morning with two people whom Dumont has left here to keep the town in order during his abſence. The ſubject was to prevail on them to give me a permiſſion to leave Peronne, but I could not ſucceed. They were not, I believe, indiſpoſed to gratify me, but were afraid of involving themſelves. One of them expreſſed much partiality for the Engliſh, but was very vehement in his diſapprobation of their form of government, which he ſaid was "deteſtable." My cowardice did not permit me to argue much in its behalf, (for I look upon theſe people aſ more dangerous than the ſpies of the old police,) and I only ventured to obſerve, with great diffidence, that though the Engliſh government waſ monarchical, yet the power of the Crown was very much limited; and that as the chief ſubjects of our complaints at preſent were not our inſtitutions, but certain practical errors, they might be remedied without any violent or radical changes; and that our nobility were neither numerous nor privileged, and by no means obnoxious to the majority of the people.—"Ah, vous avez donc de la nobleſſe bleſſe en Angleterre, ce ſont peut-etre les milords," ["What, you have nobility in England then? The milords, I ſuppoſe."] exclaimed our republican, and it operated on my whole ſyſtem of defence like my uncle Toby's ſmoke-jack, for there was certainly no diſcuſſing the Engliſh conſtitution with a political critic, who I found was ignorant even of the exiſtence of a third branch of it; yet this reformer of governments and abhorrer of Kings has power delegated to him more extenſive than thoſe of an Engliſh Sovereign, though I doubt if he can write his own language; and his moral reputation is ſtill leſs in his favour than his ignorance—for, previouſ to the revolution, he was known only as a kind of ſwindler, and has more than once been nearly convicted of forgery.—This is, however, the deſcription of people now chiefly employed, for no honeſt man would accept of ſuch commiſſions, nor perform the ſervices annexed to them.

Bread continues very ſcarce, and the populace of Paris are, as uſual, very turbulent; ſo that the neighbouring departments are deprived of their ſubſiſtence to ſatiſfy the wants of a metropolis that has no claim to an exemption from the general diſtreſs, but that which ariſes from the fears of the Convention. As far as I have opportunity of learning or obſerving, this part of France is in that ſtate of tranquillity which iſ not the effect of content but ſupineneſs; the people do not love their government, but they ſubmit to it, and their utmoſt exertions amount only to a little occaſional obſtinacy, which a few dragoons always reduce to compliance. We are ſometimes alarmed by reports that parties of the enemy are approaching the town, when the gates are ſhut, and the great bell is toll'd; but I do not perceive that the people are violently apprehenſive about the matter. Their fears are, I believe, for the moſt part, rather perſonal than political—they do not dread ſubmiſſion to the Auſtrians, but military licentiouſneſs.

I have been reading this afternoon Lord Orrery's definition of the male Ceciſbeo, and it reminds me that I have not yet noticed to you a very important claſs of females in France, who may not improperly be denominated female Ceciſbeos. Under the old ſyſtem, when the rank of a woman of faſhion had enabled her to preſerve a degree of reputation and influence, in ſpite of the gallantries of her youth and the decline of her charms, ſhe adopted the equivocal character I here allude to, and, relinquiſhing the adorations claimed by beauty, and the reſpect due to age, charitably devoted herſelf to the inſtruction and advancement of ſome young man of perſonal qualifications and uncertain fortune. She preſented him to the world, panegyrized him into faſhion, and inſured hiſ conſequence with one ſet of females, by hinting his ſucceſſes with another. By her exertions he was promoted in the army or diſtinguiſhed at the levee, and a career begun under ſuch auſpices often terminated in a brilliant eſtabliſhment.—In the leſs elevated circle, a female Ceciſbeo is uſually of a certain age, of an active diſpoſition, and great volubility, and her functions are more numerous and leſs dignified. Here the grand objects are not to beſiege Miniſters, nor give a "ton" to the protege at a faſhionable ruelle, but to obtain for him the ſolid advantages of what ſhe calls "un bon parti." [A good match.] To thiſ end ſhe frequents the houſes of widows and heireſſes, vaunts the docility of his temper, and the greatneſs of his expectations, enlarges on the ſolitude of widowhood, or the dependence and inſignificance of a ſpinſter; and theſe prefatory encomiums uſually end in the concerted introduction of the Platonic "ami."

But beſides theſe principal and important cares, a female Ceciſbeo of the middle rank has various ſubordinate oneſ—ſuch as buying linen, chooſing the colour of a coat, or the pattern of a waiſtcoat, with all the minutiae of the favourite's dreſs, in which ſhe is always conſulted at leaſt, if ſhe has not the whole direction.

It is not only in the firſt or intermediate claſſes that theſe uſeful females abound, they are equally common in more humble ſituations, and only differ in their employments, not in their principles. A woman in France, whatever be her condition, cannot be perſuaded to reſign her influence with her youth; and the bourgeoiſe who has no pretenſions to court favour or the diſpoſal of wealthy heireſſes, attaches her eleve by knitting him ſtockings, forcing him with bons morceaux till he has an indigeſtion, and frequent regales of coffee and liqueur.

You muſt not conclude from all this that there is any gallantry implied, or any ſcandal excited—the return for all theſe ſervices is only a little flattery, a philoſophic endurance of the card-table, and ſome ſkill in the diſorders of lap-dogs. I know there are in England, as well as in France, many notable females of a certain age, who delight in what they call managing, and who are zealous in promoting, matches among the young people of their acquaintance; but for one that you meet with in England there are fifty here.

I doubt much if, upon the whole, the morals of the Engliſh women are not ſuperior to thoſe of the French; but however the queſtion may be decided as to morals, I believe their ſuperiority in decency of manners iſ indiſputable—and this ſuperiority is, perhaps, more conſpicuous in women of a certain age, than in the younger part of the ſex. We have a ſort of national regard for propriety, which deters a female from lingering on the confines of gallantry, when age has warned her to withdraw; and an old woman that ſhould take a paſſionate and excluſive intereſt about a young man not related to her, would become at leaſt an object of ridicule, if not of cenſure:—yet in France nothing is more common; every old woman appropriates ſome youthful dangler, and, what is extraordinary, his attentions are not diſtinguiſhable from thoſe he would pay to a younger object.—I ſhould remark, however, as ſome apology for theſe juvenile gallants, that there are very few of what we call Tabbies in France; that is, females of ſevere principles and contracted features, in whoſe apparel every pin has its deſtination with mathematical exactneſs, who are the very watch-towers of a neighbourhood, and who give the alarm on the firſt appearance of incipient frailty. Here, antique dowagers and faded ſpinſters are all gay, laughing, rouged, and indulgent—ſo that 'bating the ſubtraction of teeth and addition of wrinkles, the diſparity between one ſcore and four is not ſo great:

"Gay rainbow ſilks their mellow charms enfold, Nought of theſe beauties but themſelves is old."

I know if I venture to add a word in defence of Tabbyhood, I ſhall be engaged in a war with yourſelf and all our young acquaintance; yet in this age, which ſo liberally "ſoftens, and blends, and weakens, and diluteſ" away all diſtinctions, I own I am not without ſome partiality for ſtrong lines of demarcation; and, perhaps, when fifty retrogradeſ into fifteen, it makes a worſe confuſion in ſociety than the toe of the peaſant treading on the heel of the courtier.—But, adieu: I am not gay, though I trifle. I have learnt ſomething by my reſidence in France, and can be, as you ſee, frivolous under circumſtances that ought to make me grave.—Yours.