July 14, 1793.

The return of this day cannot but suggest very melancholy reflections to all who are witnesses of the changes which a single year has produced.  In twelve months only the government of France has been overturned, her commerce destroyed, the country depopulated to raise armies, and the people deprived of bread to support them.  A despotism more absolute than that of Turkey is established, the manners of the nation are corrupted, and its moral character is disgraced in the eyes of all Europe.  A barbarous rage has laid waste the fairest monuments of art—­whatever could embellish society, or contribute to soften existence, has disappeared under the reign of these modern Goths—­even the necessaries of life are becoming rare and inadequate to the consumption—­the rich are plundered and persecuted, yet the poor are in want—­the national credit is in the last stage of debasement, yet an immense debt is created, and daily accumulating; and apprehension, distrust, and misery, are almost universal.—­All this is the work of a set of adventurers who are now divided among themselves—­who are accusing each other of those crimes which the world imputes to them all—­and who, conscious they can no longer deceive the nation, now govern with the fear and suspicion of tyrants.  Every thing is sacrificed to the army and Paris, and the people are robbed of their subsistence to supply an iniquitous metropolis, and a military force that awes and oppresses them.

The new constitution has been received here officially, but no one seems to take the least interest in it:  it is regarded in just the same light as a new tax, or any other ministerial mandate, not sent to be discussed but obeyed.  The mode of proclaiming it conveyed a very just idea of its origin and tendency.  It was placed on a cushion, supported by Jacobins in their red caps, and surrounded by dragoons.  It seemed the image of Anarchy, guarded by Despotism.—­In this manner they paraded the town, and the “sacred volume” was then deposed on an altar erected on the Grande Place.—­The Garde Nationale, who were ordered to be under arms, attended, and the constitution was read.  A few of the soldiers cried “Vive la republique!” and every one returned home with countenances in which delight was by no means the prevailing expression.

A trifling incident which I noticed on this occasion, will serve, among others of the same kind that I could enumerate, to prove that even the very lower class of the people begin to ridicule and despise their legislators.  While a municipal officer was very gravely reading the constitution, an ass forced his way across the square, and placed himself near the spot where the ceremony was performing:  a boy, who was under our window, on observing it, cried out, “Why don’t they give him the accolade fraternelle!"*