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
This digression towards a country, which busy remembrance points to with
unceasing anxiety, could not be suppressed. To proceed with my
observations here:----The republican spirit is inculcated not in songs
only, for in every part of the ship I find emblems purposely displayed
to awaken it. All the orders relating to the discipline of the crew are
hung up, and prefaced by the words _Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité, ou la
Mort_, written in capital letters. The _bonnet rouge_, or cap of
liberty, is erected in several places, and crowns the figure on the
prow of the ship, which represents the demagogue whose name she bears,
and on which is written an extract from the declaration of the rights of
man. In the cabin (to which the officers are entitled to resort at all
times) _Liberté & Egalité_ are pourtrayed in female characters, the
former brandishing a sword, and the latter nursing a numerous offspring,
with impartial attention to the wants of all. But a picture of another
sort also caught my eye: it was pasted on the _outside_ of a door, which
led to the apartment of an officer, and represented the prime minister
of Great Britain conducting to a _guillotine_ his blindfolded sovereign.
The person to whom it belonged, on seeing me regard it with mingled
indignation and contempt, would have begun a conversation on the
subject, had I not prevented him by turning my back and walking away.
Indeed, next to the poor emigrants, Mr. Pitt, or “_Ministre Peet_,” as
they always call him, seems to be the primary object of their
abhorrence. Hated name! never breathed but in curses, never coupled but
with execrations! To hear them, one would suppose that he is the only
man in England hostile to their growing republic. Even Captain Le
Franq, who has certainly hitherto behaved towards us with more delicacy
than the other officers, did not scruple to call him “a Robespierre.” To
argue with these people I find impossible; “but to be grave exceeds all
power of face.” My only resource, on such occasions, is to ask some
question foreign to the subject they wish to talk upon: even here I can
make no progress; I am either repulsed by want of common knowledge, or
bewildered in contradiction. Having established it as a maxim, that some
degree of information may always be gained by talking to men of their
own professions, I am as inquisitive as I modestly can be, about their
naval institutions. But, if my question be heard by more than one, such
shocking abrupt oppositions of opinion follow, and so pertinaciously
does each party defend his assertion on the most ordinary points, that
my only alternative, to prevent a perfect equilibrium of mind, is to
place the little confidence left at my disposal in the champion who has
been least violent and vociferous; agreeably to the old observation,
which says, the still stream is the deepest. Their ignorance, indeed,
upon almost every subject which has been stated, is deplorable. One of
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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