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Peronne, Auguſt 29, 1793.

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The political horizon of France threatens nothing but tempeſts. If we are ſtill tranquil here, it is only becauſe the ſtorm is retarded, and, far from deeming ourſelves ſecure from its violence, we ſuffer in apprehenſion almoſt as much as at other places is ſuffered in reality. An hundred and fifty people have been arreſted at Amiens in one night, and numbers of the gentry in the neighbouring towns have ſhared the ſame fate. This meaſure, which I underſtand is general throughout the republic, has occaſioned great alarms, and is beheld by the maſs of the people themſelves with regret. In ſome towns, the Bourgeois have petitions to the Repreſentatives on miſſion in behalf of their gentry thus impriſoned: but, far from ſucceeding, all who have ſigned ſuch petitions are menaced and intimidated, and the terror is ſo much increaſed, that I doubt if even this ſlight effort will be repeated any where.

The levee en maſſe, or riſing in a body, which has been for ſome time decreed, has not yet taken place. There are very few, I believe, that comprehend it, and fewer who are diſpoſed to comply. Many conſultationſ have been holden, many plans propoſed; but as the reſult of all theſe conſultations and plans is to ſend a certain number to the frontiers, the ſuffrages have never been unanimous except in giving their negative.— Like Falſtaff's troops, every one has ſome good cauſe of exemption; and if you were to attend a meeting where this affair is diſcuſſed, you would conclude the French to be more phyſically miſerable than any people on the glove. Youths, in apparent good health, have internal diſorders, or concealed infirmitieſ—ſome are near-ſighted—others epileptic—one iſ nervous, and cannot preſent a muſquet—another is rheumatic, and cannot carry it. In ſhort, according to their account, they are a collection of the lame, the halt, and the blind, and fitter to ſend to the hoſpital, than to take the field. But, in ſpite of all theſe diſorders and incapacities, a conſiderable levy muſt be made, and the dragoons will, I dare ſay, operate very wonderful cures.

The ſurrender of Dunkirk to the Engliſh is regarded as inevitable. I am not politician enough to foreſee the conſequences of ſuch an event, but the hopes and anxieties of all parties ſeem directed thither, as if the fate of the war depended on it. As for my own wiſhes on the ſubject, they are not national, and if I ſecretly invoke the God of Armies for the ſucceſs of my countrymen, it is becauſe I think all that tends to deſtroy the preſent French government may be beneficial to mankind. Indeed, the ſucceſſes of war can at no time gratify a thinking mind farther than aſ they tend to the eſtabliſhment of peace.

After ſeveral days of a mockery which was called a trial, though the witneſſes were afraid to appear, or the Counſel to plead in his favour, Cuſtine has ſuffered at the Guillotine. I can be no judge of hiſ military conduct, and Heaven alone can judge of his intentions. None of the charges were, however, ſubſtantiated, and many of them were abſurd or frivolous. Moſt likely, he has been ſacrificed to a cabal, and hiſ deſtruction makes a part of that ſyſtem of policy, which, by agitating the minds of the people with ſuſpicions of univerſal treaſon and unfathomable plots, leaves them no reſource but implicit ſubmiſſion to their popular leaders.

The death of Cuſtine ſeems rather to have ſtimulated than appeaſed the barbarity of the Pariſian mob. At every defeat of their armies they call for executions, and ſeveral of thoſe on whom the lot has fallen to march againſt the enemy have ſtipulated, at the tribune of the Jacobins, for the heads they exact as a condition of their departure,* or as the reward for their labours. The laurel has no attraction for heroes like theſe, who inveſt themſelves with the baneful yew and inauſpicious cypreſs, and go to the field of honour with the dagger of the aſſaſſin yet enſanguined.

* Many inſiſted they would not depart until after the death of the Queen—ſome claimed the death of one General, ſome that of another, and all, the lives or baniſhment of the gentry and clergy.

"Fair ſteeds, gay ſhields, bright arms," [Spencer.] the fancy-created deity, the wreath of fame, and all that poets have imagined to decorate the horrors of war, are not neceſſary to tempt the groſs barbarity of the Pariſian: he ſeeks not glory, but carnage—his incentive is the groans of defenceleſs victimſ—he inliſts under the ſtandard of the Guillotine, and acknowledges the executioner for his tutelary Mars.

In remarking the difficulties that have occurred in carrying into execution the levee en maſſe, I neglected to inform you that the prime mover of all theſe machinations is your omnipotent Mr. Pitt—it is he who has fomented the perverſeneſs of the towns, and alarmed the timidity of the villageſ—he has perſuaded ſome that it is not pleaſant to leave their ſhops and families, and inſinuated into the minds of others that death or wounds are not very deſirable—he has, in fine, ſo effectually achieved his purpoſe, that the Convention iſſues decree after decree, the members harangue to little purpoſe, and the few recruits already levied, like thoſe raiſed in the ſpring, go from many places ſtrongly eſcorted to the army.—I wiſh I had more peaceful and more agreeable ſubjects for your amuſement, but they do not preſent themſelves, and "you muſt blame the times, not me." I would wiſh to tell you that the legiſlature iſ honeſt, that the Jacobins are humane, and the people patriots; but you know I have no talent for fiction, and if I had, my ſituation is not favourable to any effort of fancy.—Yours.

A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795, Complete

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