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
The workmen employed here are only twelve in number, and the quantity of
salt-petre made is about fifty pounds a day, which, according to their
account, costs only four livres and a half a pound; but this must not be
depended upon, for they did not know the quantity of wood consumed. The
wages of these people are inconceivably low, only 50 sols a day, and a
ration of bread. Until lately they were paid only 35 sols, the addition
having been made in consequence of the increasing dearness of the
necessaries of life: even now 50 sols will scarcely buy a pound of the
worst veal brought to market. They complained of its insufficiency, and
told us, that manufacturers in England were paid as much for two hours
work; “but, nevertheless, it is for the republic.” Either from this
conjecture of the liberality of our country, or from some other cause,
they treated us with particular respect, and answered all our questions
with the most ready civility: not an interested civility, for they
neither received, nor gave us room to suppose that they expected, any
gratuity.
I quitted the place with strange sensations. The process which I had
witnessed was whimsically shocking. When I saw amidst the earth the
bones tossed about, “mine ached at the remembrance.” This earth, said I
to myself, once, perhaps, belonged to men whom these houses sheltered,
and against whose descendants in La Vendée it may, when fabricated into
the _breath of destruction_, volly forth, in the shape of bullets, the
coffins which once enclosed their forefathers. There is certainly no
discovery which entitles to higher admiration the inventive genius of
man, than that of artillery, in all its wonderful combinations; but, at
the same time, it must be confessed, that no stronger proof of our
miserable degeneracy and infatuation can be produced, than our
application of it.
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