Letters written in France, to a friend in London, between the month of November 1794, and the month of May 1795 — John Shaqi
Letters written in France, to a friend in London, between the month of November 1794, and the month of May 1795Tench, Watkin
History
Letters written in France, to a friend in London, between the month of November 1794, and the month of May 1795
Tench, Watkin
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Personal narratives, British; Tench, Watkin, 1759?-1833 -- Correspondence
without trepidation: they are, however, I am assured, fast returning
into vogue.
At a play-table the common centre of union must be the stake, and to
that I found here, as elsewhere, all cares anxiously directed; but,
during some short cessations of the game, I remarked that the company
divided into knots, which seemed jealous of each other. The operation of
a more powerful passion being suspended, their political prejudices were
now revived. I was among royalists, federalists, and fierce republicans
one and indivisible. The fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters of
emigrants, for whose desertion they had been punished, collected with
_bons citoyens_, and _enragés_. Of these last, from not mixing in their
groupe, I can say nothing, except that the dress of some of them was
affectedly mean, and their conversation marked by a boisterous and rude
familiarity, which I knew before were leading characteristics of their
party. If I find myself compelled by necessity to cultivate an
acquaintance with any of this faction, while I remain at Quimper, I hope
I shall not be constrained to extend to them an observation, which I was
forced to pass upon their brethren on ship-board----that I never knew one
man, professing to be a fierce, and flaming republican, who possessed
either the manners which should distinguish a gentleman (setting aside
the forms of courtesy) or that common share of probity, which is
required to keep the links of society together.
In the little knot of royalists to which, you may suppose, I attached
myself, I was not worse received for being an Englishman. Indeed they
spoke quite undisguisedly before me, but it was in whispers. A young
lady, on seeing me gaze with attention upon one of the republican
phalanx, who (like all his colleagues) had worn his hat during the
evening, asked me, which I liked best, the tri-coloured cockade I was
surveying, or the “_cocarde blanche_?” “The cockade of honour, to be
sure,” I answered.----“Softly, softly, for God’s sake!” said she, “or we
shall be overheard and undone.”
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