A Residence In France During The Years 1792, 1793, 1794 And 1795
Charlotte Biggs
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CONTENTS PRELIMINARY REMARKS BY THE EDITOR. DEDICATION PREFACE A RESIDENCE IN FRANCE. May 10, 1792. May, 1792. June 10, 1792. June 24, 1792. July 24, 1792. August 4, 1792. August 15. August 22, 1792. Hesdin. Arras, August, 1792. Lisle, August, 1792. Lisle. Lisle, Saturday. Arras, September 1, 1792. Arras, September. Arras. Arras. September 2, 1792. September 4. Arras, September, 1792. Arras, September 14, 1792. St. Omer, September, 1792. September, 1792. Amiens, 1792. Abbeville, September, 1792.
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PRELIMINARY REMARKS BY THE EDITOR.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS BY THE EDITOR.
The following Letters were ſubmitted to my inſpection and judgement by the Author, of whoſe principles and abilities I had reaſon to entertain a very high opinion. How far my judgement has been exerciſed to advantage in enforcing the propriety of introducing them to the public, that public muſt decide. To me, I confeſs, it appeared, that a ſeries of important facts, tending to throw a ſtrong light on the internal ſtate of France, during the moſt important period of the Revolution, could neither
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DEDICATION
DEDICATION
To The RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. SIR, It is with extreme diffidence that I offer the following pages to Your notice; yet as they deſcribe circumſtances which more than juſtify Your own prophetic reflections, and are ſubmitted to the public eye from no other motive than a love of truth and my country, I may, perhaps, be excuſed for preſuming them to be not altogether unworthy of ſuch a diſtinction. While Your puny opponents, if opponents they may be called, are either ſunk into oblivion, or rememb
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PREFACE
PREFACE
After having, more than once, in the following Letters, expreſſed opinions decidedly unfavourable to female authorſhip, when not juſtified by ſuperior talents, I may, by now producing them to the public, ſubject myſelf to the imputation either of vanity or inconſiſtency; and I acknowledge that a great ſhare of candour and indulgence muſt be poſſeſſed by readers who attend to the apologies uſually made on ſuch occaſions: yet I may with the ſtricteſt truth alledge, that I ſhould never have venture
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May 10, 1792.
May 10, 1792.
I am every day more confirmed in the opinion I communicated to you on my arrival, that the firſt ardour of the revolution is abated.—The bridal days are indeed paſt, and I think I perceive ſomething like indifference approaching. Perhaps the French themſelves are not ſenſible of thiſ change; but I who have been abſent two years, and have made as it were a ſudden tranſition from enthuſiaſm to coldneſs, without paſſing through the intermediate gradations, am forcibly ſtruck with it. When I was her
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May, 1792.
May, 1792.
You, my dear _____, who live in a land of pounds, ſhillings, and pence, can ſcarcely form an idea of our embarraſſments through the want of them. 'Tis true, theſe are petty evils; but when you conſider that they happen every day, and every hour, and that, if they are not very ſerious, they are very frequent, you will rejoice in the ſplendour of your national credit, which procures you all the accommodation of paper currency, without diminiſhing the circulation of ſpecie. Our only currency here c
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June 10, 1792.
June 10, 1792.
You obſerve, with ſome ſurprize, that I make no mention of the Jacobinſ— the fact is, that until now I have heard very little about them. Your Engliſh partizans of the revolution have, by publiſhing their correſpondence with theſe ſocieties, attributed a conſequence to them infinitely beyond what they have had pretenſions to:—a prophet, it iſ ſaid, is not honoured in his own country—I am ſure a Jacobin is not. In provincial towns theſe clubs are generally compoſed of a few of the loweſt tradeſme
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June 24, 1792.
June 24, 1792.
You have doubtleſs learned from the public papers the late outrage of the Jacobins, in order to force the King to conſent to the formation of an army at Paris, and to ſign the decree for baniſhing the nonjuring Clergy. The newſpapers will deſcribe to you the proceſſion of the Sans-Culottes, the indecency of their banners, and the diſorders which were the reſult— but it is impoſſible for either them or me to convey an idea of the general indignation excited by theſe atrocities. Every well-meaning
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July 24, 1792.
July 24, 1792.
Our revolution aera has paſſed tranquilly in the provinces, and with leſſ turbulence at Paris than was expected. I conſign to the Gazette-writerſ thoſe long deſcriptions that deſcribe nothing, and leave the mind aſ unſatiſfied as the eye. I content myſelf with obſerving only, that the ceremony here was gay, impreſſive, and animating. I indeed have often remarked, that the works of nature are better deſcribed than thoſe of art. The ſcenes of nature, though varied, are uniform; while the productio
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Auguſt 4, 1792.
Auguſt 4, 1792.
I muſt repeat to you, that I have no talent for deſcription; and, having ſeldom been able to profit by the deſcriptions of others, I am modeſt enough not willingly to attempt one myſelf. But, as you obſerve, the ceremony of a foederation, though familiar to me, is not ſo to my Engliſh friends; I therefore obey your commands, though certain of not ſucceeding ſo as to gratify your curioſity in the manner you too partially expect. The temple where the ceremony was performed, was erected in an open
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Auguſt 15.
Auguſt 15.
The conſternation and horror of which I have been partaker, will more than apologize for my ſilence. It is impoſſible for any one, however unconnected with the country, not to feel an intereſt in its preſent calamities, and to regret them. I have little courage to write even now, and you muſt pardon me if my letter ſhould bear marks of the general depreſſion. All but the faction are grieved and indignant at the King'ſ depoſition; but this grief is without energy, and this indignation ſilent. The
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Auguſt 22, 1792.
Auguſt 22, 1792.
The hour is paſt, in which, if the King's friends had exerted themſelves, they might have procured a movement in his favour. The people were at firſt amazed, then grieved; but the national philoſophy already begins to operate, and they will ſink into indifference, till again awakened by ſome new calamity. The leaders of the faction do not, however, entirely depend either on the ſupineneſs of their adverſaries, or the ſubmiſſion of the people. Money is diſtributed amongſt the idle and indigent, a
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Heſdin.
Heſdin.
We arrived here laſt night, notwithſtanding the difficulties of our firſt ſetting out, in tolerable time; but I have gained ſo little in point of repoſe, that I might as well have continued my journey. We are lodged at an inn which, though large and the beſt in the town, is ſo diſguſtingly filthy, that I could not determine to undreſs myſelf, and am now up and ſcribbling, till my companions ſhall be ready. Our embarkation will, I foreſee, be a work of time and labour; for my friend, Mad. de ____
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Arras, Auguſt, 1792.
Arras, Auguſt, 1792.
The appearance of Arras is not buſy in proportion to its population, becauſe its population is not equal to its extent; and as it is a large, without being a commercial, town, it rather offers a view of the tranquil enjoyment of wealth, than of the buſtle and activity by which it iſ procured. The ſtreets are moſtly narrow and ill paved, and the ſhopſ look heavy and mean; but the hotels, which chiefly occupy the low town, are large and numerous. What is called la Petite Place, is really very larg
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Liſle, Auguſt, 1792.
Liſle, Auguſt, 1792.
You reſtleſs iſlanders, who are continually racking imagination to perfect the art of moving from one place to another, and who can drop aſleep in a carriage and wake at an hundred mile diſtance, have no notion of all the difficulties of a day's journey here. In the firſt place, all the horſes of private perſons have been taken for the uſe of the army, and thoſe for hire are conſtantly employed in going to the camp—hence, there is a difficulty in procuring horſes. Then a French carriage iſ never
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Liſle.
Liſle.
"Married to another, and that before thoſe ſhoes were old with which ſhe followed my poor father to the grave."—There is ſcarcely any circumſtance, or ſituation, in which, if one's memory were good, one ſhould not be mentally quoting Shakeſpeare. I have juſt now been whiſpering the above, as I paſſed the altar of liberty, which ſtill remains on the Grande Place. But "a month, a little month," ago, on thiſ altar the French ſwore to maintain the conſtitution, and to be faithful to the law and the
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Liſle, Saturday.
Liſle, Saturday.
We are juſt on our departure for Arras, where, I fear, we ſhall ſcarcely arrive before the gates are ſhut. We have been detained here much beyond our time, by a circumſtance infinitely ſhocking, though, in fact, not properly a ſubject of regret. One of the aſſaſſins of General Dillon waſ this morning guillotined before the hotel where we are lodged.—I did not, as you will conclude, ſee the operation; but the mere circumſtance of knowing the moment it was performed, and being ſo near it, has much
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Arras, September 1, 1792.
Arras, September 1, 1792.
Had I been accompanied by an antiquary this morning, his ſenſibility would have been ſeverely exerciſed; for even I, whoſe reſpect for antiquity is not ſcientific, could not help lamenting the modern rage for devaſtation which has ſeized the French. They are removing all "the time-honoured figureſ" of the cathedral, and painting its maſſive ſupporters in the ſtyle of a ball-room. The elaborate uncouthneſs of ancient ſculpture is not, indeed, very beautiful; yet I have often fancied there was ſom
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Arras, September.
Arras, September.
Nothing more powerfully excites the attention of a ſtranger on his firſt arrival, than the number and wretchedneſs of the poor at Arras. In all places poverty claims compulſion, but here compaſſion is accompanied by horror—one dares not contemplate the object one commiſerates, and charity relieves with an averted eye. Perhaps with Him, who regardſ equally the forlorn beggar ſtretched on the threſhold, conſumed by filth and diſeaſe, and the blooming beauty who avoids while ſhe ſuccours him, the o
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Arras.
Arras.
It is not faſhionable at preſent to frequent any public place; but as we are ſtrangers, and of no party, we often paſs our evenings at the theatre. I am fond of it—not ſo much on account of the repreſentation, as of the opportunity which it affords for obſerving the diſpoſitions of the people, and the bias intended to be given them. The ſtage is now become a kind of political ſchool, where the people are taught hatred to Kings, Nobility, and Clergy, according as the perſecution of the moment req
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Arras.
Arras.
Our countrymen who viſit France for the firſt time—their imaginationſ filled with the epithets which the vanity of one nation has appropriated, and the indulgence of the other ſanctioned—are aſtoniſhed to find thiſ "land of elegance," this refined people, extremely inferior to the Engliſh in all the arts that miniſter to the comfort and accommodation of life. They are ſurprized to feel themſelves ſtarved by the intruſion of all the winds of heaven, or ſmothered by volumes of ſmoke—that no lock w
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September 2, 1792.
September 2, 1792.
We were ſo much alarmed at the theatre on Thurſday, that I believe we ſhall not venture again to amuſe ourſelves at the riſk of a ſimilar occurrence. About the middle of the piece, a violent outcry began from all parts of the houſe, and ſeemed to be directed againſt our box; and I perceived Madame Duchene, the Preſidente of the Jacobins, heading the legions of Paradiſe with peculiar animation. You may imagine we were not a little terrified. I anxiouſly examined the dreſs of myſelf and my compani
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September 4.
September 4.
I reſume my pen after a ſleepleſs night, and with an oppreſſion of mind not to be deſcribed. Paris is the ſcene of proſcription and maſſacres. The priſoners, the clergy, the nobleſſe, all that are ſuppoſed inimical to public faction, or the objects of private revenge, are ſacrificed without mercy. We are here in the utmoſt terror and conſternation—we know not the end nor the extent of theſe horrors, and every one iſ anxious for himſelf or his friends. Our ſociety conſiſts moſtly of females, and
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Arras, September, 1792.
Arras, September, 1792.
You will in future, I believe, find me but a dull correſpondent. The natural timidity of my diſpoſition, added to the dread which a native of England has of any violation of domeſtic ſecurity, renders me unfit for the ſcenes I am engaged in. I am become ſtupid and melancholy, and my letters will partake of the oppreſſion of my mind. At Paris, the maſſacres at the priſons are now over, but thoſe in the ſtreets and in private houſes ſtill continue. Scarcely a poſt arriveſ that does not inform M. d
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Arras, September 14, 1792.
Arras, September 14, 1792.
The camp of Maulde is broken up, and we deferred our journey, that we might paſs a day at Douay with M. de ____'s ſon. The road within ſome miles of that place is covered with corn and forage, the immediate environs are begun to be inundated, and every thing wears the appearance of impending hoſtility. The town is ſo full of troops, that without the intereſt of our military friends we ſhould ſcarcely have procured a lodging. All was buſtle and confuſion, the enemy are very near, and the French a
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St. Omer, September, 1792.
St. Omer, September, 1792.
I am confined to my room by a ſlight indiſpoſition, and, inſtead of accompanying my friends, have taken up my pen to inform you that we are thus far ſafe on our journey.—Do not, becauſe you are ſurrounded by a protecting element, ſmile at the idea of travelling forty or fifty mileſ in ſafety. The light troops of the Auſtrian army penetrate ſo far, that none of the roads on the frontier are entirely free from danger. My female companions were alarmed the whole day—the young for their baggage, and
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September, 1792.
September, 1792.
We paſſed a country ſo barren and unintereſting yeſterday, that even a profeſſional traveller could not have made a ſingle page of it. It was, in every thing, a perfect contraſt to the rich plains of Artoiſ— unfertile, neglected vallies and hills, miſerable farms, ſtill more miſerable cottages, and ſcarcely any appearance of population. The only place where we could refreſh the horſes was a ſmall houſe, over the door of which was the pompous deſignation of Hotel d'Angleterre. I know not if this
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Amiens, 1792.
Amiens, 1792.
The departement de la Somme has the reputation of being a little ariſtocratic. I know not how far this be merited, but the people are certainly not enthuſiaſts. The villages we paſſed on our road hither were very different from thoſe on the frontierſ—we were hailed by no popular ſounds, no cries of Vive la nation! except from here and there ſome ragged boy in a red cap, who, from habit, aſſociated this ſalutation with the appearance of a carriage. In every place where there are half a dozen houſ
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Abbeville, September, 1792.
Abbeville, September, 1792.
We left Amiens early yeſterday morning, but were ſo much delayed by the number of volunteers on the road, that it was late before we reached Abbeville. I was at firſt ſomewhat alarmed at finding ourſelveſ ſurrounded by ſo formidable a cortege; they however only exacted a declaration of our political principles, and we purchaſed our ſafety by a few ſmiles, and exclamations of vive la nation! There were ſome hundredſ of theſe recruits much under twenty; but the poor fellows, exhilarated by their n
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October, 1792.
October, 1792.
I ſhall not date from this place again, intending to quit it as ſoon aſ poſſible. It is diſturbed by the crouds from the camps, which are broken up, and the ſoldiers are extremely brutal and inſolent. So much are the people already familiarized with the unnatural depravity of manners that begins to prevail, that the wife of the Colonel of a battalion now here walks the ſtreets in a red cap, with piſtols at her girdle, boaſting of the numbers ſhe has deſtroyed at the maſſacres in Auguſt and Septe
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Amiens, October, 1792.
Amiens, October, 1792.
I arrived here the day on which a ball was given to celebrate the return of the volunteers who had gone to the aſſiſtance of Liſle.* *The bombardment of Liſle commenced on the twenty-ninth of September, at three o'clock in the afternoon, and continued, almoſt without interruption, until the ſixth of October. Many of the public buildings, and whole quarters of the town, were ſo much damaged or deſtroyed, that the ſituation of the ſtreets were ſcarcely diſtinguiſhable. The houſes which the fire ob
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Amiens, November, 1792.
Amiens, November, 1792.
The arrival of my friends has occaſioned a ſhort ſuſpenſion of my correſpondence: but though I have been negligent, I aſſure you, my dear brother, I have not been forgetful; and this temporary preference of the ties of friendſhip to thoſe of nature, will be excuſed, when you conſider our long ſeparation. My intimacy with Mrs. D____ began when I firſt came to this country, and at every ſubſequent viſit to the continent it has been renewed and increaſed into that rational kind of attachment, which
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December, 1792.
December, 1792.
Dear Brother, All the public prints ſtill continue ſtrongly to inſinuate, that England is prepared for an inſurrection, and Scotland already in actual rebellion: but I know the character of our countrymen too well to be perſuaded that they have adopted new principles as eaſily as they would adopt a new mode, or that the viſionary anarchiſts of the French government can have made many proſelytes among an humane and rational people. For many years we were content to let France remain the arbitreſs
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Contentſ
Contentſ
Amiens, January, 1793. Amiens, 1793. Amiens, January 1793. Amiens, February 15, 1793. Amiens, Feb. 25, 1793. Amiens, 1793. March 23, 1793. Rouen, March 31, 1793. Amiens, April 7, 1793. April 20, 1793. May 18, 1793. June 3, 1793. June 20, 1793. June 30, 1793. Amiens, July 5, 1793. July 14, 1793. July 23, 1793. Peronne, July 29, 1793. Auguſt 1, 1793. Soiſſons, Auguſt 4, 1793. Peronne, Auguſt, 1793. Peronne, Auguſt 24, 1793. Peronne, Auguſt 29, 1793. Peronne, Sept. 7, 1793. Maiſon d'Arret, Arras, O
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Amiens, January, 1793.
Amiens, January, 1793.
Vanity, I believe, my dear brother, is not ſo innoxious a quality as we are deſirous of ſuppoſing. As it is the moſt general of all human failings, ſo is it regarded with the moſt indulgence: a latent conſciouſneſs averts the cenſure of the weak; and the wiſe, who flatter themſelves with being exempt from it, plead in its favour, by ranking it as a foible too light for ſerious condemnation, or too inoffenſive for puniſhment. Yet, if vanity be not an actual vice, it is certainly a potential one—i
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Amiens, 1793.
Amiens, 1793.
Dear Brother, I have thought it hitherto a ſelf evident propoſition—that of all the principles which can be inculcated in the human mind, that of liberty iſ leaſt ſuſceptible of propagation by force. Yet a Council of Philoſopherſ (diſciples of Rouſſeau and Voltaire) have ſent forth Dumouriez, at the head of an hundred thouſand men, to inſtruct the people of Flanders in the doctrine of freedom. Such a miſſionary is indeed invincible, and the defenceleſs towns of the Low Countries have been conver
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Amiens, January 1793.
Amiens, January 1793.
I do all poſſible juſtice to the liberality of my countrymen, who are become ſuch paſſionate admirers of the French; and I cannot but lament their having been ſo unfortunate in the choice of the aera from whence they date this new friendſhip. It is, however, a proof, that their regards are not much the effect of that kind of vanity which eſteemſ objects in proportion as they are eſteemed by the reſt of the world; and the ſincerity of an attachment cannot be better evinced than by itſ ſurviving i
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Amiens, February 15, 1793.
Amiens, February 15, 1793.
I did not, as I promiſed, write immediately on my return from Chantilly; the perſon by whom I intended to ſend my letter having already ſet out for England, and the rule I have obſerved for the laſt three months of entruſting nothing to the poſt but what relates to our family affairs, is now more than ever neceſſary. I have before requeſted, and I muſt now inſiſt, that you make no alluſion to any political matter whatever, nor even mention the name of any political perſon. Do not imagine that yo
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Amiens, Feb. 25, 1793.
Amiens, Feb. 25, 1793.
I told you, I believe, in a former letter, that the people of Amiens were all ariſtocrates: they have, nevertheleſs, two extremely popular qualificationſ—I mean filth and incivility. I am, however, far from imputing either of them to the revolution. This groſſneſs of behavior has long exiſted under the palliating deſcription of "la franchiſe Picarde," ["Picardy frankneſs."] and the floors and ſtairs of many houſes will atteſt their preeminence in filth to be of a date much anterior to the revolu
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Amiens, 1793.
Amiens, 1793.
I have been to-day to take a laſt view of the convents: they are now advertiſed for ſale, and will probably ſoon be demoliſhed. You know my opinion is not, on the whole, favourable to theſe inſtitutions, and that I thought the decree which extinguiſhes them, but which ſecured to the religious already profeſt the undiſturbed poſſeſſion of their habitationſ during life, was both politic and humane. Yet I could not ſee the preſent ſtate of theſe buildings without pain—they are now inhabited by volu
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March 23, 1793.
March 23, 1793.
The partizans of the French in England alledge, that the revolution, by giving them a government founded on principles of moderation and rectitude, will be advantageous to all Europe, and more eſpecially to Great Britain, which has ſo often ſuffered by wars, the fruit of their intrigues.—This reaſoning would be unanſwerable could the character of the people be changed with the form of their government: but, I believe, whoever examines its adminiſtration, whether as it relates to foreign powers o
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Rouen, March 31, 1793.
Rouen, March 31, 1793.
Rouen, like moſt of the great towns in France, is what is called decidedly ariſtocratic; that is, the rich are diſcontented becauſe they are without ſecurity, and the poor becauſe they want bread. But theſe complaints are not peculiar to large places; the cauſes of them equally exiſt in the ſmalleſt village, and the only difference which fixes the imputation of ariſtocracy on one more than the other, is, daring to murmur, or ſubmitting in ſilence. I muſt here remark to you, that the term ariſtoc
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Amiens, April 7, 1793.
Amiens, April 7, 1793.
If the ſentiments of the people towards their preſent government had been problematical before, the viſible effect of Dumouriez' conduct would afford an ample ſolution of the problem. That indifference about public affairs which the proſpect of an eſtabliſhed deſpotiſm had begun to create has vaniſhed—all is hope and expectation—the doors of thoſe who retail the newſpapers are aſſailed by people too impatient to read them— each with his gazette in his hand liſtens eagerly to the verbal circulati
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April 20, 1793.
April 20, 1793.
Before theſe halcyon days of freedom, the ſupremacy of Paris was little felt in the provinces, except in dictating a new faſhion in dreſs, an improvement in the art of cookery, or the invention of a minuet. At preſent our imitations of the capital are ſomething more ſerious; and if our obedience be not quite ſo voluntary, it is much more implicit. Inſtead of receiving faſhions from the Court, we take them now from the dames des balles, [Market-women.] and the municipality; and it muſt be allowed
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May 18, 1793.
May 18, 1793.
Near ſix weeks ago a decree was paſſed by the Convention, obliging all ſtrangers, who had not purchaſed national property, or who did not exerciſe ſome profeſſion, to give ſecurity to the amount of half their ſuppoſed fortune, and under theſe conditions they were to receive a certificate, allowing them to reſide, and were promiſed the protection of the laws. The adminiſtrators of the departments, who perceive that they become odious by executing the decrees of the Convention, begin to relax much
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June 3, 1793.
June 3, 1793.
We have been three days without receiving newſpapers; but we learn from the reports of the courier, that the Briſſotins are overthrown, that many of them have been arreſted, and ſeveral eſcaped to raiſe adherents in the departments. I, however, doubt much if their ſucceſs will be very general: the people have little preference between Briſſot and Marat, Condorcet and Robeſpierre, and are not greatly ſolicitous about the nameſ or even principles of thoſe who govern them—they are not yet accuſtome
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June 20, 1793.
June 20, 1793.
Mercier, in his Tableau de Paris, notices, on ſeveral occaſions, the little public ſpirit exiſting among his countrymen—it is alſo obſervable, that many of the laws and cuſtoms preſume on this deficiency, and the name of republicans has by no means altered that cautiouſ diſpoſition which makes the French conſider either miſfortunes or benefits only as their perſonal intereſt is affected by them.—I am juſt returned from a viſit to Abbeville, where we were much alarmed on Sunday by a fire at the P
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June 30, 1793.
June 30, 1793.
Our modern travellers are moſtly either ſentimental or philoſophical, or courtly or political; and I do not remember to have read any who deſcribe the manner of living among the gentry and middle ranks of life in France. I will, therefore, relieve your attention for a moment from our actual diſtreſſes, and give you the picture of a day as uſually paſſed by thoſe who have eaſy fortunes and no particular employment.—The ſocial aſſemblage of a whole family in the morning, as in England, is not very
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Amiens, July 5, 1793.
Amiens, July 5, 1793.
It will be ſome conſolation to the French, if, from the wreck of their civil liberty, they be able to preſerve the mode of adminiſtering juſtice as eſtabliſhed by the conſtitution of 1789. Were I not warranted by the beſt information, I ſhould not venture an opinion on the ſubject without much diffidence, but chance has afforded me opportunities that do not often occur to a ſtranger, and the new code appears to me, in many parts, ſingularly excellent, both as to principle and practice.—Juſtice i
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July 14, 1793.
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 barb
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July 23, 1793.
July 23, 1793.
The events of Paris which are any way remarkable are ſo generally circulated, that I do not often mention them, unleſs to mark their effect on the provinces; but you will be ſo much miſled by the public paperſ with regard to the death of Marat, that I think it neceſſary to notice the ſubject while it is yet recent in my memory. Were the clubs, the Convention, or the ſections of Paris to be regarded as expreſſing the ſenſe of the people, the aſſaſſination of this turbulent journaliſt muſt be conſ
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Peronne, July 29, 1793.
Peronne, July 29, 1793.
Every attempt to obtain paſſports has been fruitleſs, and, with that ſort of diſcontented reſignation which is the effect of neceſſity, I now look upon myſelf as fixed here till the peace. I left Mr. and Mrs. D____ yeſterday morning, the diſappointment operating upon them in full force. The former takes longer walks than uſual, breaks out in philippicſ againſt tyrannies of all kinds, and ſwears ten times a day that the French are the moſt noiſy people upon earth—the latter is vexed, and, for tha
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Auguſt 1, 1793.
Auguſt 1, 1793.
When the creation of aſſignats was firſt propoſed, much ingenuity waſ employed in conjecturing, and much eloquence diſplayed in expatiating upon, the various evils that might reſult from them; yet the genius of party, however uſually ſucceſſful in gloomy perſpective, did not at that time imagine half the inconvenience this meaſure was fraught with. It was eaſy, indeed, to foreſee, that an immenſe circulation of paper, like any other currency, muſt augment the price of every thing; but the exceſſ
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Soiſſons, Auguſt 4, 1793.
Soiſſons, Auguſt 4, 1793.
"And you may go by Beauvais if you will, for which reaſon many go by Beauvais;" and the ſtranger who turns out of his road to go by Soiſſons, muſt uſe the ſame reaſoning, for the conſciouſneſs of having exerciſed his free agency will be all his reward for viſiting Soiſſons. This, by the way; for my journey hither not being one of curioſity, I have no right to complain; yet ſomehow or other, by aſſociating the idea of the famous Vaſe, the ancient reſidence of the firſt French Kings, and other cir
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Peronne, Auguſt, 1793.
Peronne, Auguſt, 1793.
I have often regretted, my dear brother, that my letters have for ſome time been rather intended to ſatiſfy your curioſity than your affection. At this moment I feel differently, and I rejoice that the inquietude and danger of my ſituation will, probably, not come to your knowledge till I ſhall be no longer ſubject to them. I have been for ſeveral days unwell, and yet my body, valetudinarian as I am at beſt, is now the better part of me; for my mind has been ſo deranged by ſuſpenſe and terror, t
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Peronne, Auguſt 24, 1793.
Peronne, Auguſt 24, 1793.
I have been out to-day for the firſt time ſince the arreſt of the Engliſh, and, though I have few acquaintances here, my adventure at the Hotel de Ville has gained me a ſort of popularity. I was ſaluted by many people I did not know, and overwhelmed with expreſſions of regret for what had happened, or congratulations on my having eſcaped ſo well. The French are not commonly very much alive to the ſufferings of others, and it is ſome mortification to my vanity that I cannot, but at the expence of
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Peronne, Auguſt 29, 1793.
Peronne, Auguſt 29, 1793.
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, ha
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Peronne, Sept. 7, 1793.
Peronne, Sept. 7, 1793.
The ſucceſſes of the enemy on all ſides, the rebellion at Lyons and Marſeilles, with the increaſing force of the inſurgents in La Vendee, have revived our eagerneſs for news, and if the indifference of the French character exempt them from more patriotic ſenſations, it does not baniſh curioſity; yet an eventful criſis, which in England would draw people together, here keeps them apart. When an important piece of intelligence arrives, our provincial politicians ſhut themſelves up with their gazet
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Maiſon d'Arret, Arras, Oct. 15, 1793.
Maiſon d'Arret, Arras, Oct. 15, 1793.
Dear Brother, The fears of a timid mind uſually magnify expected evil, and anticipated ſuffering often diminiſhes the effect of an apprehended blow; yet my imagination had ſuggeſted leſs than I have experienced, nor do I find that a preparatory ſtate of anxiety has rendered affliction more ſupportable. The laſt month of my life has been a compendium of miſery; and my recollection, which on every other ſubject ſeems to fail me, is, on this, but too faithful, and will enable me to relate events wh
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Maiſon d'Arret, Arras, Oct. 17, 1793.
Maiſon d'Arret, Arras, Oct. 17, 1793.
On the night I concluded my laſt, a report that Commiſſioners were to viſit the houſe on the morrow obliged me to diſpoſe of my papers beyond the poſſibility of their being found. The alarm is now over, and I proceed.—After ſomething more than three weeks indiſpoſition, I began to walk in the yard, and make acquaintance with our fellow-priſoners. Mad. de ____ had already diſcovered ſeveral that were known to her, and I now found, with much regret, that many of my Arras friends were here alſo. Ha
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Oct. 18.
Oct. 18.
I begin to be very uneaſy about Mr. and Mrs. D____. I have written ſeveral times, and ſtill receive no anſwer. I fear they are in a confinement more ſevere than my own, or that our letters miſcarry. A ſervant of Mad. de ____'s was here this morning, and no letters had come to Peronne, unleſs, as my friend endeavours to perſuade me, the man would not venture to give them in preſence of the guard, who par excellence happened to be a furious Jacobin.—We had the mortification of hearing that a very
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Oct. 19.
Oct. 19.
We are diſturbed almoſt nightly by the arrival of freſh priſoners, and my firſt queſtion of a morning is always "N'eſt il pas du monde entre la nuit?" —Angelique's uſual reply is a groan, and "Ah, mon Dieu, oui;" "Une dixaine de pretres;" or, "Une trentaine de nobles:" ["Did not ſome people arrive in the night?"]—"Yes, God help uſ—half a ſcore prieſts, or twenty or thirty gentry." And I obſerve the depth of the groan is nearly in proportion to the quality of the perſon ſhe commiſerates. Thus, a
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Oct. 20.
Oct. 20.
The unfortunate Queen, after a trial of ſome days, during which ſhe ſeemſ to have behaved with great dignity and fortitude, is no longer ſenſible of the regrets of her friends or the malice of her enemies. It iſ ſingular, that I have not yet heard her death mentioned in the priſon —every one looks grave and affects ſilence. I believe her death has not occaſioned an effect ſo univerſal as that of the King, and whatever people's opinions may be, they are afraid of expreſſing them: for it iſ ſaid,
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Arras, 1793.
Arras, 1793.
For ſome days previous to the battle by which Maubeuge was relieved, we had very gloomy apprehenſions, and had the French army been unſucceſſful and forced to fall back, it is not improbable but the lives of thoſe detained in the Maiſon d'Arret [Houſe of detention.] might have been ſacrificed under pretext of appeaſing the people, and to give ſome credit to the ſuſpicions ſo induſtriouſly inculcated that all their defeats are occaſioned by internal enemies. My firſt care, as ſoon as I was able t
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Oct. 21.
Oct. 21.
I have this day made a diſcovery of a very unpleaſant nature, which Mad. de ____ had hitherto cautiouſly concealed from me. All the Engliſh, and other foreigners placed under ſimilar circumſtances, are now, without exception, arreſted, and the confiſcation of their property is decreed. It is uncertain if the law is to extend to wearing apparel, but I find that on this ground the Committee of Peronne perſiſt in refuſing to take the ſeals off my effects, or to permit my being ſupplied with any nec
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Oct. 22.
Oct. 22.
Mad. de ____'s _homme d'affaireſ_ [Agent] has been here to-day, but no news from Amiens. I know not what to conjecture. My patience is almoſt exhauſted, and my ſpirits are fatigued. Were I not juſt now relieved by a diſtant proſpect of ſome change for the better, my ſituation would be inſupportable.—"Oh world! oh world! but that thy ſtrange mutations make us wait thee, life would not yield to age." We ſhould die before our time, even of moral diſeaſes, unaided by phyſical ones; but the uncertain
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Oct. 25.
Oct. 25.
I have diſcontinued my journal for three days to attend my friend, Mad. de ____, who has been ill. Uneaſineſs, and want of air and exerciſe, had brought on a little fever, which, by the uſual mode of treatment in thiſ country, has been conſiderably increaſed. Her diſorder did not indeed much alarm me, but I cannot ſay as much of her medical aſſiſtants, and it ſeems to me to be almoſt ſupernatural that ſhe has eſcaped the jeopardy of their preſcriptions. In my own illneſs I had truſted to nature,
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Oct. 27.
Oct. 27.
I thought, when I wrote the above, that the houſe was really ſo full aſ to be incapable of containing more; but I did not do juſtice to the talents of our keeper. The laſt two nights have brought us an addition of ſeveral waggon loads of nuns, farmers, ſhopkeepers, &c. from the neighbouring towns, which he has ſtill contrived to lodge, though much in the way that he would pack goods in bales. Should another convoy arrive, it is certain that we muſt ſleep perpendicularly, for even now, wh
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Oct. 30.
Oct. 30.
For ſome days the guards have been ſo untractable, and the croud at the door has been ſo great, that Fleury was obliged to make various effortſ before he could communicate the reſult of his negotiation. He has at length found means to inform us, that his friend the tailor had exerted all his intereſt in our favour, but that Dumont and Le Bon (as often happens between neighbouring potentates) are at war, and their enmity being in ſome degree ſubject to their mutual fears, neither will venture to
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Bicetre at Amiens, Nov. 18, 1793.
Bicetre at Amiens, Nov. 18, 1793.
Nous voila donc encore, logees a la nation; that is to ſay, the common priſon of the department, amidſt the thieves, vagabonds, maniacs, &c. confined by the old police, and the gens ſuſpects recently arreſted by the new.—I write from the end of a ſort of elevated barn, ſixty or ſeventy feet long, where the interſtices of the tiles admit the wind from all quarters, and ſcarcely exclude the rain, and where an old ſcreen and ſome curtains only ſeparate Mad. de ____, myſelf, and our ſervants
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November 19, 1793.
November 19, 1793.
The Engliſh in general, eſpecially of late years, have been taught to entertain very formidable notions of the Baſtille and other ſtate priſonſ of the ancient government, and they were, no doubt, horrid enough; yet I have not hitherto been able to diſcover that thoſe of the new republic are any way preferable. The only difference is, that the great number of priſoners which, for want of room, are obliged to be heaped together, makes it impoſſible to exclude them as formerly from communication, a
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Nov. 20.
Nov. 20.
Beſides the gentry and clergy of this department, we have likewiſe for companions a number of inhabitants of Liſle, arreſted under circumſtanceſ ſingularly atrocious, even where atrocity is the characteriſtic of almoſt every proceeding.—In the month of Auguſt a decree was paſſed to oblige all the nobility, clergy, and their ſervants, as well as all thoſe perſons who had been in the ſervice of emigrants, to depart from Liſle in eight-and-forty hours, and prohibiting their reſidence within twenty
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December.
December.
Laſt night, after we had been aſleep about an hour, (for habit, that "lulls the wet ſea-boy on the high and giddy maſt," has reconciled us to ſleep even here,) we were alarmed by the trampling of feet, and ſudden unlocking of our door. Our apprehenſions gave us no time for conjecture —in a moment an ill-looking fellow entered the room with a lantern, two ſoldiers holding drawn ſwords, and a large dog! The whole company walked as it were proceſſionally to the end of the apartment, and, after obſe
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Amiens, Providence, Dec. 10, 1793.
Amiens, Providence, Dec. 10, 1793.
We have again, as you will perceive, changed our abode, and that too without expecting, and almoſt without deſiring it. In my moments of ſullenneſs and deſpondency, I was not very ſolicitous about the modifications of our confinement, and little diſpoſed to be better ſatiſfied with one priſon than another: but, heroics apart, external comforts are of ſome importance, and we have, in many reſpects, gained by our removal. Our preſent habitation is a ſpacious building, lately a convent, and though
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Providence, Dec. 20, 1793.
Providence, Dec. 20, 1793.
"All places that are viſited by the eye of Heaven, are to the wiſe man happy havens." If Shakſpeare's philoſophy be orthodox, the French have, it muſt be confeſſed, many claims to the reputation of a wiſe people; and though you know I always diſputed their pretenſions to general gaiety, yet I acknowledge that miſfortune does not deprive them of the ſhare they poſſeſs, and, if one may judge by appearances, they have at leaſt the habit, more than any other nation, of finding content under ſituatio
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Contentſ
Contentſ
January 6, 1794. January, 1794. Providence, Jan. 29. February 2, 1794. February 12, 1794. [No date given.] March 1, 1794. March, 1794. March 5, 1794. March 17, 1794. Providence, April 15, 1794. April 22, 1794. April 30, 1794. June 3, 1794. June 11, 1794. Providence, Aug. 11, 1794. Auguſt 12. Providence, Aug. 13, 1794. Providence, Aug. 14, 1794. Providence, Aug. 15, 1794. Auguſt, 1794. [No Date Given] Amiens, Sept. 30, 1794. Amiens, October 4, 1794. October 6, 1794. [No Date or Place Given.] Amie
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January 6, 1794.
January 6, 1794.
If I had undertaken to follow the French revolution through all itſ abſurdities and iniquities, my indolence would long ſince have taken the alarm, and I ſhould have relinquiſhed a taſk become too difficult and too laborious. Events are now too numerous and too complicated to be deſcribed by occaſional remarks; and a narrator of no more pretenſionſ than myſelf may be allowed to ſhrink from an abundance of matter which will hereafter perplex the choice and excite the wonder of the hiſtorian.—Remo
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January, 1794.
January, 1794.
The total ſuppreſſion of all religious worſhip in this country is an event of too ſingular and important a nature not to have been commented upon largely by the Engliſh papers; but, though I have little new to add on the ſubject, my own reflections have been too much occupied in conſequence for me to paſs it over in ſilence. I am yet in the firſt emotions of wonder: the vaſt edifice which had been raiſed by the blended efforts of religion and ſuperſtition, which had been conſecrated by time, end
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Providence, Jan. 29.
Providence, Jan. 29.
We are now quite domeſticated here, though in a very miſerable way, without fire, and with our mattreſſes, on the boards; but we nevertheleſſ adopt the ſpirit of the country, and a total abſence of comfort does not prevent us from amuſing ourſelves. My friend knits, and draws landſcapeſ on the backs of cards; and I have eſtabliſhed a correſpondence with an old bookſeller, who ſends me treatiſes of chemiſtry and fortifications, inſtead of poetry and memoirs. I endeavoured at firſt to borrow books
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February 2, 1794.
February 2, 1794.
The factions which have choſen to give France the appellation of a republic, ſeem to have judged, and with ſome reaſon, that though it might anſwer their purpoſe to amuſe the people with ſpecious theories of freedom, their habits and ideas were far from requiring that theſe fine ſchemes ſhould be carried into practice. I know of no example equal to the ſubmiſſion of the French at this moment; and if "departed ſpiritſ were permitted to review the world," the ſhades of Richelieu or Louvoiſ might h
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February 12, 1794.
February 12, 1794.
I was too much occupied by my perſonal diſtreſſes to make any remarks on the revolutionary government at the time of its adoption. The text of this political phoenomenon muſt be well known in England—I ſhall, therefore, confine myſelf to giving you a general idea of its ſpirit and tendency,—It is, compared to regular government, what force is to mechaniſm, or the uſual and peaceful operations of nature to the ravageſ of a ſtorm—it ſubſtitutes violence for conciliation, and ſweeps with precipitat
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[No date given.]
[No date given.]
Were I a mere ſpectator, without fear for myſelf or compaſſion for others, the ſituation of this country would be ſufficiently amuſing. The effects produced (many perhaps unavoidably) by a ſtate of revolution—the ſtrange remedies deviſed to obviate them—the alternate neglect and ſeverity with which the laws are executed—the mixture of want and profuſion that diſtinguiſh the lower claſſes of people—and the diſtreſſ and humiliation of the higher; all offer ſcenes ſo new and unaccountable, as not t
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March 1, 1794.
March 1, 1794.
The freedom of the preſs is ſo perfectly well regulated, that it is not ſurprizing we are indulged with the permiſſion of ſeeing the public papers: yet this indulgence is often, I aſſure you, a ſource of much perplexity to me—our more intimate aſſociates know that I am a native of England, and as often as any debates of our Houſe of Commons are publiſhed, they apply to me for explanations which it is not always in my power to give them. I have in vain endeavoured to make them comprehend the natu
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March, 1794.
March, 1794.
The aſpect of the times promiſes no change in our favour; on the contrary, every day ſeems to bring its attendant evil. The gentry who had eſcaped the comprehenſive decree againſt ſuſpected people, are now ſwept away in this and the three neighbouring departments by a private order of the repreſentatives, St. Juſt, Lebas, and Dumont.* * The order was to arreſt, without exception, all the ci-devant Nobleſſſe, men, women, and children, in the departments of the Somme, North, and Pas de Calais, and
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March 5, 1794.
March 5, 1794.
Of what ſtrange influence is this word revolution, that it ſhould thus, like a taliſman of romance, keep inchained, as it were, the reaſoning faculties of twenty millions of people! France is at this moment looking for the deciſion of its fate in the quarrels of two miſerable clubs, compoſed of individuals who are either deſpiſed or deteſted. The municipality of Paris favours the Cordeliers, the Convention the Jacobins; and it is eaſy to perceive, that in this cafe the auxiliarieſ are principals
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March 17, 1794.
March 17, 1794.
After ſome days of agitation and ſuſpenſe, we learn that the popularity of Robeſpierre is victorious, and that Hebert and his partizans are arreſted. Were the intrinſic claims of either party conſidered, without regard to the circumſtances of the moment, it might ſeem ſtrange I ſhould expreſs myſelf as though the reſult of a conteſt between ſuch men could excite a general intereſt: yet a people ſadly ſkilled in the gradationſ of evil, and inured to a choice only of what is bad, learn to prefer c
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Providence, April 15, 1794.
Providence, April 15, 1794.
"The friendſhip of bad men turns to fear:" and in this ſingle phraſe of our popular bard is comprized the hiſtory of all the parties who have ſucceeded each other during the revolution.—Danton has been ſacrificed to Robeſpierre's jealouſy,* and Camille Deſmoulins to ſupport hiſ popularity;** and both, after ſharing in the crimes, and contributing to the puniſhment, of Hebert and his aſſociates, have followed them to the ſame ſcaffold. * The ferocious courage of Danton had, on the 10th of Auguſt,
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April 22, 1794.
April 22, 1794.
Our abode becomes daily more crouded; and I obſerve, that the greater part of thoſe now arreſted are farmers. This appears ſtrange enough, when we conſider how much the revolutionary perſecution has hitherto ſpared this claſs of people; and you will naturally enquire why it has at length reached them. It has been often obſerved, that the two extremes of ſociety are nearly the ſame in all countries; the great reſemble each other from education, the little from nature. Compariſons, therefore, of m
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April 30, 1794.
April 30, 1794.
For ſome years previous to the revolution, there were ſeveral points in which the French aſcribed to themſelves a ſuperiority not very diſtant from perfection. Amongſt theſe were philoſophy, politeneſs, the refinements of ſociety, and, above all, the art of living.—I have ſometimes, as you know, been inclined to diſpute theſe claims; yet, if it be true that in our ſublunary career perfection is not ſtationary, and that, having reached the apex of the pyramid on one ſide, we muſt neceſſarily deſc
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June 3, 1794.
June 3, 1794.
The individual ſufferings of the French may perhaps yet admit of increaſe; but their humiliation as a people can go no farther; and if it were not certain that the acts of the government are congenial to itſ principles, one might ſuppoſe this tyranny rather a moral experiment on the extent of human endurance, than a political ſyſtem. Either the vanity or cowardice of Robeſpierre is continually ſuggeſting to him plots for his aſſaſſination; and on pretexts, at once abſurd and atrocious, a whole f
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June 11, 1794.
June 11, 1794.
The immorality of Hebert, and the baſe compliances of the Convention, for ſome months turned the churches into "temples of reaſon."—The ambition, perhaps the vanity, of Robeſpierre, has now permitted them to be dedicated to the "Supreme Being," and the people, under ſuch auſpices, are to be conducted from atheiſm to deiſm. Deſirous of diſtinguiſhing his preſidency, and of exhibiting himſelf in a conſpicuous and intereſting light, Robeſpierre, on the laſt decade, appeared as the hero of a ceremon
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Providence, Aug. 11, 1794.
Providence, Aug. 11, 1794.
I have for ſome days contemplated the fall of Robeſpierre and hiſ adherents, only as one of thoſe diſpenſations of Providence, which were gradually to purſue all who had engaged in the French revolution. The late change of parties has, however, taken a turn I did not expect; and, contrary to what has hitherto occurred, there is a manifeſt diſpoſition in the people to avail themſelves of the weakneſs which is neceſſarily occaſioned by the contentions of their governors. When the news of this extr
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Auguſt 12.
Auguſt 12.
My letters, previous to the time when I judged it neceſſary to deſiſt from writing, will have given you ſome faint ſketch of the ſituation of the country, and the ſufferings of its inhabitantſ—I ſay a faint ſketch, becauſe a thouſand horrors and iniquities, which are now daily diſcloſing, were then confined to the ſcenes where they were perpetrated; and we knew little more of them than what we collected from the reportſ of the Convention, where they excited a laugh as pleaſantries, or applauſe a
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Providence, Aug. 13, 1794.
Providence, Aug. 13, 1794.
Amour, tu perdis Troye [Love! thou occaſionedſt the deſtruction of Troy.]:—yet, among the various miſchiefs aſcribed to the influence of this capricious Sovereign, amidſt the wrecks of ſieges, and the ſlaughter of battles, perhaps we may not unjuſtly record in his praiſe, that he waſ inſtrumental to the ſolace of humanity, by contributing to the overthrow of Robeſpierre. It is at leaſt pleaſing to turn from the general horrorſ of the revolution, and ſuppoſe, for a moment, that the ſocial affecti
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Providence, Aug. 14, 1794.
Providence, Aug. 14, 1794.
The thirty members whom Robeſpierre intended to ſacrifice, might perhapſ have formed ſome deſign of reſiſting, but it appears evident that the Convention in general acted without plan, union, or confidence.*— * The baſe and ſelfiſh timidity of the Convention is ſtrongly evinced by their ſuffering fifty innocent people to be guillotined on the very ninth of Thermidor, for a pretended conſpiracy in the priſon of St. Lazare.—A ſingle word from any member might at thiſ criſis have ſuſpended the exec
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Providence, Aug. 15, 1794.
Providence, Aug. 15, 1794.
To-morrow I expect to quit this place, and have been wandering over it for the laſt time. You will imagine I can have no attachment to it: yet a retroſpect of my ſenſations when I firſt arrived, of all I have experienced, and ſtill more of what I have apprehended ſince that period, makes me look forward to my departure with a ſatiſfaction that I might almoſt call melancholy. This cell, where I have ſhivered through the winter—the long paſſages, which I have ſo often traverſed in bitter ruminatio
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Auguſt, 1794.
Auguſt, 1794.
I did not leave the Providence until ſome days after the date of my laſt: there were ſo many precautions to be taken, and ſo many formalities to be obſerved—ſuch references from the municipality to the diſtrict, and from the diſtrict to the Revolutionary Committee, that it is evident Robeſpierre's death has not baniſhed the uſual apprehenſion of danger from the minds of thoſe who became reſponſible for acts of juſtice or humanity. At length, after procuring a houſe-keeper to anſwer with hiſ life
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[No Date Given]
[No Date Given]
When I deſcribe the French as a people bending meekly beneath the moſt abſurd and cruel oppreſſion, tranſmitted from one ſet of tyrants to another, without perſonal ſecurity, without commerce—menaced by famine, and deſolated by a government whoſe ordinary reſources are pillage and murder; you may perhaps read with ſome ſurprize the progreſs and ſucceſſes of their armies. But, diveſt yourſelf of the notions you may have imbibed from intereſted miſrepreſentationſ—forget the revolutionary common-pl
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Amiens, Sept. 30, 1794.
Amiens, Sept. 30, 1794.
The domeſtic politics of France are replete with novelties: the Convention is at war with the Jacobinſ—and the people, even to the moſt decided ariſtocrats, have become partizans of the Convention.—My laſt letters have explained the origin of theſe phaenomena, and I will now add a few words on their progreſs. You have ſeen that, at the fall of Robeſpierre, the revolutionary government had reached the very ſummit of deſpotiſm, and that the Convention found themſelves under the neceſſity of appear
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Amiens, October 4, 1794.
Amiens, October 4, 1794.
We have had our guard withdrawn for ſome days; and I am juſt now returned from Peronne, where we had been in order to ſee the ſeals taken off the papers, &c. which I left there laſt year. I am much ſtruck with the alteration obſervable in people's countenances. Every perſon I meet ſeems to have contracted a ſort of revolutionary aſpect: many walk with their heads down, and with half-ſhut eyes meaſure the whole length of a ſtreet, as though they were ſtill intent on avoiding greetings fro
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October 6, 1794.
October 6, 1794.
The ſufferings of individuals have often been the means of deſtroying or reforming the moſt powerful tyrannies; reaſon has been convinced by argument, and paſſion appealed to by declamation in vain—when ſome unvarniſhed tale, or ſimple expoſure of facts, has at once rouzed the feelings, and conquered the ſupineneſs of an oppreſſed people. The revolutionary government, in ſpite of the clamorous and weekly ſwearings of the Convention to perpetuate it, has received a check from an event of this nat
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[No Date or Place Given.]
[No Date or Place Given.]
It appears, that the greater part of the inhabitants of Poitou, Anjou, and the Southern diviſions of Brittany, now diſtinguiſhed by the general appellation of the people of La Vendee, (though they include thoſe of ſeveral other departments,) never either comprehended or adopted the principles of the French revolution. Many different cauſes contributed to increaſe their original averſion from the new ſyſtem, and to give their reſiſtance that conſiſtency, which has ſince become ſo formidable. A pa
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Amiens, Oct. 24, 1794.
Amiens, Oct. 24, 1794.
Revolutions, like every thing elſe in France, are a mode, and the Convention already commemorate four ſince 1789: that of July 1789, which rendered the monarchical power nugatory; that of Auguſt the 10th, 1792, which ſubverted it; the expulſion of the Briſſotins, in May 1793; and the death of Robeſpierre, in July 1794. The people, accuſtomed, from their earlieſt knowledge, to reſpect the perſon and authority of the King, felt that the events of the two firſt epochs, which diſgraced the one and a
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Amiens, Nov. 2, 1794.
Amiens, Nov. 2, 1794.
Every poſt now brings me letters from England; but I perceive, by the ſuppreſſed congratulations of my friends, that, though they rejoice to find I am ſtill alive, they are far from thinking me in a ſtate of ſecurity. You, my dear Brother, muſt more particularly have lamented the tedious confinement I have endured, and the inconveniencies to which I have been ſubjected; I am, however, perſuaded that you would not wiſh me to have been exempt from a perſecution in which all the natives of England,
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Baſſe-ville, Arras, Nov. 6, 1794.
Baſſe-ville, Arras, Nov. 6, 1794.
Since my own liberation, I have been inceſſantly employed in endeavouring to procure the return of my friends to Amiens; who, though releaſed from priſon ſome time, could not obtain paſſports to quit Arras. After numerous difficulties and vexations, we have at length ſucceeded, and I am now here to accompany them home. I found Mr. and Mrs. D____ much altered by the hardſhips they have undergone: Mrs. D____, in particular, has been confined ſome months in a noiſome priſon called the Providence, o
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Amiens, Nov. 26, 1794.
Amiens, Nov. 26, 1794.
The Conſtituent Aſſembly, the Legiſlative Aſſembly, and the National Convention, all ſeem to have acted from a perſuaſion, that their ſole duty as revolutioniſts was compriſed in the deſtruction of whatever exiſted under the monarchy. If an inſtitution were diſcovered to have the ſlighteſt defect in principle, or to have degenerated a little in practice, their firſt ſtep was to aboliſh it entirely, and leave the replacing it for the preſent to chance, and for the future to their ſucceſſors. In r
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Amiens, Nov. 29, 1794.
Amiens, Nov. 29, 1794.
The ſelfiſh policy of the Convention in affecting to reſpect and preſerve the Jacobin ſocieties, while it deprived them of all power, and help up the individuals who compoſed them to abhorrence, could neither ſatiſfy nor deceive men verſed in revolutionary expedients, and more accuſtomed to dictate laws than to ſubmit to them.* * The Jacobins were at this time headed by Billaud Varenne, Collot, Thuriot, &c.—veterans, who were not likely to be deceived by temporizing. Supported by all the
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Amiens. [No date given.]
Amiens. [No date given.]
I do not yet venture to correſpond with my Paris friends by the poſt, but whenever the opportunity of private conveyance occurs, I receive long and circumſtantial letters, as well as packets, of all the publications moſt read, and the theatrical pieces moſt applauded. I have lately drudged through great numbers of theſe laſt, and beſtowed on them an attention they did not in themſelves deſerve, becauſe I conſidered it as one meanſ of judging both of the ſpirit of the government and the morals of
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Amiens, Dec. 10, 1794.
Amiens, Dec. 10, 1794.
Your American friend paſſed through here yeſterday, and delivered me the two parcels. As marks of your attention, they were very acceptable; but on any other account, I aſſure you, I ſhould have preferred a preſent of a few pecks of wheat to all your fineries. I have been uſed to conclude, when I ſaw ſuch ſtrange and unaccountable abſurdities given in the French papers as extracts from the debates in either of your Houſes of Parliament, that they were probably fabricated here to ſerve the deſign
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Amiens, Dec. 16, 1794.
Amiens, Dec. 16, 1794.
The ſeventy-three Deputies who have been ſo long confined are now liberated, and have reſumed their ſeats. Jealouſy and fear for ſome time rendered the Convention averſe from the adoption of this meaſure; but the public opinion was ſo determined in favour of it, that farther reſiſtance might not have been prudent. The ſatiſfaction created by this event iſ general, though the ſame ſentiment is the reſult of various concluſions, which, however, all tend to one object—the re-eſtabliſhment of monarc
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December 24, 1794.
December 24, 1794.
I am now at a village a few miles from Amiens, where, upon giving ſecurity in the uſual form, we have been permitted to come for a few dayſ on a viſit to ſome relations of my friend Mad. de ____. On our arrival, we found the lady of the houſe in a nankeen pierrot, knitting grey thread ſtockings for herſelf, and the gentleman in a thick woollen jacket and pantaloons, at work in the fields, and really labouring as hard as hiſ men.—They hope, by thus taking up the occupation and aſſuming the appear
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December 27, 1794.
December 27, 1794.
I took the opportunity of my being here to go about four leagues farther to ſee an old convent acquaintance lately come to this part of the country, and whom I have not met ſince I was at Orleans in 1789. The time has been when I ſhould have thought ſuch a hiſtory as thiſ lady's a romance, but tales of woe are now become familiar to us, and, if they create ſympathy, they no longer excite ſurprize, and we hear of them as the natural effects of the revolution. Madame de St. E__m__d is the daughter
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Amiens, Jan. 23, 1795.
Amiens, Jan. 23, 1795.
Nothing proves more that the French republican government was originally founded on principles of deſpotiſm and injuſtice, than the weakneſs and anarchy which ſeem to accompany every deviation from theſe principles. It is ſtrong to deſtroy and weak to protect: becauſe, deriving itſ ſupport from the power of the bad and the ſubmiſſion of the timid, it iſ deſerted or oppoſed by the former when it ceaſes to plunder or oppreſſ— while the fears and habits of the latter ſtill prevail, and render them
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Amiens, Jan. 30, 1795.
Amiens, Jan. 30, 1795.
Delacroix, author of "Les Conſtitutions Politiques de l'Europe," [The Political Conſtitutions of Europe.] has lately publiſhed a work much read, and which has excited the diſpleaſure of the Aſſembly ſo highly, that the writer, by way of preliminary criticiſm, has been arreſted. The book is intitled "Le Spectateur Francais pendant la Revolution." [The French Spectator during the Revolution.] It contains many truths, and ſome ſpeculations very unfavourable both to republicaniſm and itſ founders. I
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Beauvais, March 13, 1795.
Beauvais, March 13, 1795.
I have often, in the courſe of theſe letters, experienced how difficult it is to deſcribe the political ſituation of a country governed by no fixed principles, and ſubject to all the fluctuations which are produced by the intereſts and paſſions of individuals and of parties. In ſuch a ſtate concluſions are neceſſarily drawn from daily events, minute facts, and an attentive obſervation of the opinions and diſpoſitions of the people, which, though they leave a perfect impreſſion on the mind of the
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Amiens, April 12, 1795.
Amiens, April 12, 1795.
Inſtead of commenting on the late diſorders at Paris, I ſubjoin the tranſlation of a letter juſt received by Mrs. D———— from a friend, whoſe information, we have reaſon to believe, is as exact as can poſſibly be obtained in the chaos of little intrigues which now compriſe the whole ſcience of French politics. "Paris, April 9. "Though I know, my good friend, you are ſufficiently verſed in the technicals of our revolution not to form an opinion of occurrences from the language in which they are of
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Amiens, May 9, 1795.
Amiens, May 9, 1795.
Whilſt all Europe is probably watching with ſolicitude the progreſs of the French arms, and the variations of their government, the French themſelves, almoſt indifferent to war and politics, think only of averting the horrors of famine. The important news of the day is the portion of bread which is to be diſtributed; and the ſiege of Mentz, or the treaty with the King of Pruſſia, are almoſt forgotten, amidſt enquiries about the arrival of corn, and anxiety for the approach of harveſt. The ſame p
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Amiens, May 26, 1795.
Amiens, May 26, 1795.
Our journey to Paris has been poſtponed by the inſurrection which occurred on the firſt and ſecond of Prairial, (20th and 21ſt of May,) and which was not like that of Germinal, fabricated—but a real and violent attempt of the Jacobins to regain their power. Of this event it is to be remarked, that the people of Paris were at firſt merely ſpectators, and that the Convention were at length defended by the very claſſes which they have ſo long oppreſſed under the denomination of ariſtocrats. For ſev
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Paris, June 3, 1795.
Paris, June 3, 1795.
We arrived here early on Saturday, and as no ſtranger coming to Paris, whether a native of France, or a foreigner, is ſuffered to remain longer than three days without a particular permiſſion, our firſt care was to preſent ourſelves to the Committee of the ſection where we lodge, and, on giving proper ſecurity for our good conduct, we have had this permiſſion extended to a Decade. I approached Paris with a mixture of curioſity and apprehenſion, aſ though I expected the ſcenes which had paſſed in
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Paris, June 6, 1795.
Paris, June 6, 1795.
I had ſcarcely concluded my laſt, when I received advice of the death of Madame de la F————; and though I have, almoſt from the time we quitted the Providence, thought ſhe was declining, and that ſuch an event was probable, it has, nevertheleſs, both ſhocked and grieved me. Excluſively of her many good and engaging qualities, which were reaſonable objects of attachment, Madame de la F———— was endeared to me by thoſe habits of intimacy that often ſupply the want of merit, and make us adhere to ou
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Paris, June 8, 1795.
Paris, June 8, 1795.
Yeſterday being Sunday, and to-day the Decade, we have had two holidayſ ſucceſſively, though, ſince the people have been more at liberty to manifeſt their opinions, they give a decided preference to the Chriſtian feſtival over that of the republic.* * This was only at Paris, where the people, from their number, are leſs manageable, and of courſe more courageous. In the departments, the ſame cautious timidity prevailed, and appeared likely to continue. —They obſerve the former from inclination, a
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Paris, June 15, 1795.
Paris, June 15, 1795.
I am now, after a reſidence of more than three years, amidſt the chaos of a revolution, on the eve of my departure from France. Yet, while I joyfully prepare to reviſit my own country, my mind involuntarily traceſ the rapid ſucceſſion of calamities which have filled this period, and dwells with painful contemplation on thoſe changes in the morals and condition of the French people that ſeem hitherto to be the only fruitſ which they have produced. In this recurrence to the paſt, and eſtimation of
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Amiens, June 18, 1795.
Amiens, June 18, 1795.
We returned hither yeſterday, and on Friday we are to proceed to Havre, accompanied by an order from the Committee of Public Welfare, ſtating that ſeveral Engliſh families, and ourſelves among the number, have been for ſome time a burthen on the generoſity of the republic, and that for this reaſon we are permitted to embark as ſoon as we can find the means. This is neither true, nor very gallant; but we are too happy in quitting the republic, to cavil about terms, and would not exchange our paup
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Havre, June 22, 1795.
Havre, June 22, 1795.
We are now in hourly expectation of ſailing for England: we have agreed with the Captain of a neutral veſſel, and are only waiting for a propitious wind. This good ally of the French ſeems to be perfectly ſenſible of the value of a conveyance out of the republic, and accordingly we are to pay him about ten times more for our paſſage than he would have aſked formerly. We choſe this port in preference to Calaiſ or Boulogne, becauſe I wiſhed to ſee my friend Madame de ——— at Rouen, and leave Angeli
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SAMPLE PAGES FROM THE SECOND VOLUME
SAMPLE PAGES FROM THE SECOND VOLUME
CONTENTS PRELIMINARY REMARKS BY THE EDITOR. DEDICATION PREFACE A RESIDENCE IN FRANCE. May 10, 1792. May, 1792. June 10, 1792. June 24, 1792. July 24, 1792. August 4, 1792. August 15. August 22, 1792. Hesdin. Arras, August, 1792. Lisle, August, 1792. Lisle. Lisle, Saturday. Arras, September 1, 1792. Arras, September. Arras. Arras. September 2, 1792. September 4. Arras, September, 1792. Arras, September 14, 1792. St. Omer, September, 1792. September, 1792. Amiens, 1792. Abbeville, September, 1792.
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PRELIMINARY REMARKS BY THE EDITOR.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS BY THE EDITOR.
The following Letters were submitted to my inspection and judgement by the Author, of whose principles and abilities I had reason to entertain a very high opinion. How far my judgement has been exercised to advantage in enforcing the propriety of introducing them to the public, that public must decide. To me, I confess, it appeared, that a series of important facts, tending to throw a strong light on the internal state of France, during the most important period of the Revolution, could neither
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DEDICATION
DEDICATION
To The RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. SIR, It is with extreme diffidence that I offer the following pages to Your notice; yet as they describe circumstances which more than justify Your own prophetic reflections, and are submitted to the public eye from no other motive than a love of truth and my country, I may, perhaps, be excused for presuming them to be not altogether unworthy of such a distinction. While Your puny opponents, if opponents they may be called, are either sunk into oblivion, or rememb
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PREFACE
PREFACE
After having, more than once, in the following Letters, expressed opinions decidedly unfavourable to female authorship, when not justified by superior talents, I may, by now producing them to the public, subject myself to the imputation either of vanity or inconsistency; and I acknowledge that a great share of candour and indulgence must be possessed by readers who attend to the apologies usually made on such occasions: yet I may with the strictest truth alledge, that I should never have venture
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May 10, 1792.
May 10, 1792.
I am every day more confirmed in the opinion I communicated to you on my arrival, that the first ardour of the revolution is abated.—The bridal days are indeed past, and I think I perceive something like indifference approaching. Perhaps the French themselves are not sensible of this change; but I who have been absent two years, and have made as it were a sudden transition from enthusiasm to coldness, without passing through the intermediate gradations, am forcibly struck with it. When I was her
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May, 1792.
May, 1792.
You, my dear _____, who live in a land of pounds, shillings, and pence, can scarcely form an idea of our embarrassments through the want of them. 'Tis true, these are petty evils; but when you consider that they happen every day, and every hour, and that, if they are not very serious, they are very frequent, you will rejoice in the splendour of your national credit, which procures you all the accommodation of paper currency, without diminishing the circulation of specie. Our only currency here c
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June 10, 1792.
June 10, 1792.
You observe, with some surprize, that I make no mention of the Jacobins— the fact is, that until now I have heard very little about them. Your English partizans of the revolution have, by publishing their correspondence with these societies, attributed a consequence to them infinitely beyond what they have had pretensions to:—a prophet, it is said, is not honoured in his own country—I am sure a Jacobin is not. In provincial towns these clubs are generally composed of a few of the lowest tradesme
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June 24, 1792.
June 24, 1792.
You have doubtless learned from the public papers the late outrage of the Jacobins, in order to force the King to consent to the formation of an army at Paris, and to sign the decree for banishing the nonjuring Clergy. The newspapers will describe to you the procession of the Sans-Culottes, the indecency of their banners, and the disorders which were the result— but it is impossible for either them or me to convey an idea of the general indignation excited by these atrocities. Every well-meaning
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July 24, 1792.
July 24, 1792.
Our revolution aera has passed tranquilly in the provinces, and with less turbulence at Paris than was expected. I consign to the Gazette-writers those long descriptions that describe nothing, and leave the mind as unsatisfied as the eye. I content myself with observing only, that the ceremony here was gay, impressive, and animating. I indeed have often remarked, that the works of nature are better described than those of art. The scenes of nature, though varied, are uniform; while the productio
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August 4, 1792.
August 4, 1792.
I must repeat to you, that I have no talent for description; and, having seldom been able to profit by the descriptions of others, I am modest enough not willingly to attempt one myself. But, as you observe, the ceremony of a foederation, though familiar to me, is not so to my English friends; I therefore obey your commands, though certain of not succeeding so as to gratify your curiosity in the manner you too partially expect. The temple where the ceremony was performed, was erected in an open
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August 15.
August 15.
The consternation and horror of which I have been partaker, will more than apologize for my silence. It is impossible for any one, however unconnected with the country, not to feel an interest in its present calamities, and to regret them. I have little courage to write even now, and you must pardon me if my letter should bear marks of the general depression. All but the faction are grieved and indignant at the King's deposition; but this grief is without energy, and this indignation silent. The
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August 22, 1792.
August 22, 1792.
The hour is past, in which, if the King's friends had exerted themselves, they might have procured a movement in his favour. The people were at first amazed, then grieved; but the national philosophy already begins to operate, and they will sink into indifference, till again awakened by some new calamity. The leaders of the faction do not, however, entirely depend either on the supineness of their adversaries, or the submission of the people. Money is distributed amongst the idle and indigent, a
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Hesdin.
Hesdin.
We arrived here last night, notwithstanding the difficulties of our first setting out, in tolerable time; but I have gained so little in point of repose, that I might as well have continued my journey. We are lodged at an inn which, though large and the best in the town, is so disgustingly filthy, that I could not determine to undress myself, and am now up and scribbling, till my companions shall be ready. Our embarkation will, I foresee, be a work of time and labour; for my friend, Mad. de ____
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Arras, August, 1792.
Arras, August, 1792.
The appearance of Arras is not busy in proportion to its population, because its population is not equal to its extent; and as it is a large, without being a commercial, town, it rather offers a view of the tranquil enjoyment of wealth, than of the bustle and activity by which it is procured. The streets are mostly narrow and ill paved, and the shops look heavy and mean; but the hotels, which chiefly occupy the low town, are large and numerous. What is called la Petite Place, is really very larg
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Lisle, August, 1792.
Lisle, August, 1792.
You restless islanders, who are continually racking imagination to perfect the art of moving from one place to another, and who can drop asleep in a carriage and wake at an hundred mile distance, have no notion of all the difficulties of a day's journey here. In the first place, all the horses of private persons have been taken for the use of the army, and those for hire are constantly employed in going to the camp—hence, there is a difficulty in procuring horses. Then a French carriage is never
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Lisle.
Lisle.
"Married to another, and that before those shoes were old with which she followed my poor father to the grave."—There is scarcely any circumstance, or situation, in which, if one's memory were good, one should not be mentally quoting Shakespeare. I have just now been whispering the above, as I passed the altar of liberty, which still remains on the Grande Place. But "a month, a little month," ago, on this altar the French swore to maintain the constitution, and to be faithful to the law and the
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Lisle, Saturday.
Lisle, Saturday.
We are just on our departure for Arras, where, I fear, we shall scarcely arrive before the gates are shut. We have been detained here much beyond our time, by a circumstance infinitely shocking, though, in fact, not properly a subject of regret. One of the assassins of General Dillon was this morning guillotined before the hotel where we are lodged.—I did not, as you will conclude, see the operation; but the mere circumstance of knowing the moment it was performed, and being so near it, has much
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Arras, September 1, 1792.
Arras, September 1, 1792.
Had I been accompanied by an antiquary this morning, his sensibility would have been severely exercised; for even I, whose respect for antiquity is not scientific, could not help lamenting the modern rage for devastation which has seized the French. They are removing all "the time-honoured figures" of the cathedral, and painting its massive supporters in the style of a ball-room. The elaborate uncouthness of ancient sculpture is not, indeed, very beautiful; yet I have often fancied there was som
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Arras, September.
Arras, September.
Nothing more powerfully excites the attention of a stranger on his first arrival, than the number and wretchedness of the poor at Arras. In all places poverty claims compulsion, but here compassion is accompanied by horror—one dares not contemplate the object one commiserates, and charity relieves with an averted eye. Perhaps with Him, who regards equally the forlorn beggar stretched on the threshold, consumed by filth and disease, and the blooming beauty who avoids while she succours him, the o
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Arras.
Arras.
It is not fashionable at present to frequent any public place; but as we are strangers, and of no party, we often pass our evenings at the theatre. I am fond of it—not so much on account of the representation, as of the opportunity which it affords for observing the dispositions of the people, and the bias intended to be given them. The stage is now become a kind of political school, where the people are taught hatred to Kings, Nobility, and Clergy, according as the persecution of the moment req
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Arras.
Arras.
Our countrymen who visit France for the first time—their imaginations filled with the epithets which the vanity of one nation has appropriated, and the indulgence of the other sanctioned—are astonished to find this "land of elegance," this refined people, extremely inferior to the English in all the arts that minister to the comfort and accommodation of life. They are surprized to feel themselves starved by the intrusion of all the winds of heaven, or smothered by volumes of smoke—that no lock w
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September 2, 1792.
September 2, 1792.
We were so much alarmed at the theatre on Thursday, that I believe we shall not venture again to amuse ourselves at the risk of a similar occurrence. About the middle of the piece, a violent outcry began from all parts of the house, and seemed to be directed against our box; and I perceived Madame Duchene, the Presidente of the Jacobins, heading the legions of Paradise with peculiar animation. You may imagine we were not a little terrified. I anxiously examined the dress of myself and my compani
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September 4.
September 4.
I resume my pen after a sleepless night, and with an oppression of mind not to be described. Paris is the scene of proscription and massacres. The prisoners, the clergy, the noblesse, all that are supposed inimical to public faction, or the objects of private revenge, are sacrificed without mercy. We are here in the utmost terror and consternation—we know not the end nor the extent of these horrors, and every one is anxious for himself or his friends. Our society consists mostly of females, and
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Arras, September, 1792.
Arras, September, 1792.
You will in future, I believe, find me but a dull correspondent. The natural timidity of my disposition, added to the dread which a native of England has of any violation of domestic security, renders me unfit for the scenes I am engaged in. I am become stupid and melancholy, and my letters will partake of the oppression of my mind. At Paris, the massacres at the prisons are now over, but those in the streets and in private houses still continue. Scarcely a post arrives that does not inform M. d
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Arras, September 14, 1792.
Arras, September 14, 1792.
The camp of Maulde is broken up, and we deferred our journey, that we might pass a day at Douay with M. de ____'s son. The road within some miles of that place is covered with corn and forage, the immediate environs are begun to be inundated, and every thing wears the appearance of impending hostility. The town is so full of troops, that without the interest of our military friends we should scarcely have procured a lodging. All was bustle and confusion, the enemy are very near, and the French a
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St. Omer, September, 1792.
St. Omer, September, 1792.
I am confined to my room by a slight indisposition, and, instead of accompanying my friends, have taken up my pen to inform you that we are thus far safe on our journey.—Do not, because you are surrounded by a protecting element, smile at the idea of travelling forty or fifty miles in safety. The light troops of the Austrian army penetrate so far, that none of the roads on the frontier are entirely free from danger. My female companions were alarmed the whole day—the young for their baggage, and
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September, 1792.
September, 1792.
We passed a country so barren and uninteresting yesterday, that even a professional traveller could not have made a single page of it. It was, in every thing, a perfect contrast to the rich plains of Artois— unfertile, neglected vallies and hills, miserable farms, still more miserable cottages, and scarcely any appearance of population. The only place where we could refresh the horses was a small house, over the door of which was the pompous designation of Hotel d'Angleterre. I know not if this
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Amiens, 1792.
Amiens, 1792.
The departement de la Somme has the reputation of being a little aristocratic. I know not how far this be merited, but the people are certainly not enthusiasts. The villages we passed on our road hither were very different from those on the frontiers—we were hailed by no popular sounds, no cries of Vive la nation! except from here and there some ragged boy in a red cap, who, from habit, associated this salutation with the appearance of a carriage. In every place where there are half a dozen hous
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Abbeville, September, 1792.
Abbeville, September, 1792.
We left Amiens early yesterday morning, but were so much delayed by the number of volunteers on the road, that it was late before we reached Abbeville. I was at first somewhat alarmed at finding ourselves surrounded by so formidable a cortege; they however only exacted a declaration of our political principles, and we purchased our safety by a few smiles, and exclamations of vive la nation! There were some hundreds of these recruits much under twenty; but the poor fellows, exhilarated by their n
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October, 1792.
October, 1792.
I shall not date from this place again, intending to quit it as soon as possible. It is disturbed by the crouds from the camps, which are broken up, and the soldiers are extremely brutal and insolent. So much are the people already familiarized with the unnatural depravity of manners that begins to prevail, that the wife of the Colonel of a battalion now here walks the streets in a red cap, with pistols at her girdle, boasting of the numbers she has destroyed at the massacres in August and Septe
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Amiens, October, 1792.
Amiens, October, 1792.
I arrived here the day on which a ball was given to celebrate the return of the volunteers who had gone to the assistance of Lisle.* *The bombardment of Lisle commenced on the twenty-ninth of September, at three o'clock in the afternoon, and continued, almost without interruption, until the sixth of October. Many of the public buildings, and whole quarters of the town, were so much damaged or destroyed, that the situation of the streets were scarcely distinguishable. The houses which the fire ob
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Amiens, November, 1792.
Amiens, November, 1792.
The arrival of my friends has occasioned a short suspension of my correspondence: but though I have been negligent, I assure you, my dear brother, I have not been forgetful; and this temporary preference of the ties of friendship to those of nature, will be excused, when you consider our long separation. My intimacy with Mrs. D____ began when I first came to this country, and at every subsequent visit to the continent it has been renewed and increased into that rational kind of attachment, which
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December, 1792.
December, 1792.
Dear Brother, All the public prints still continue strongly to insinuate, that England is prepared for an insurrection, and Scotland already in actual rebellion: but I know the character of our countrymen too well to be persuaded that they have adopted new principles as easily as they would adopt a new mode, or that the visionary anarchists of the French government can have made many proselytes among an humane and rational people. For many years we were content to let France remain the arbitress
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DESCRIBED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM AN ENGLISH LADY; With General And Incidental Remarks On The French Character And Manners.
DESCRIBED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM AN ENGLISH LADY; With General And Incidental Remarks On The French Character And Manners.
Amiens, January, 1793. Amiens, 1793. Amiens, January 1793. Amiens, February 15, 1793. Amiens, Feb. 25, 1793. Amiens, 1793. March 23, 1793. Rouen, March 31, 1793. Amiens, April 7, 1793. April 20, 1793. May 18, 1793. June 3, 1793. June 20, 1793. June 30, 1793. Amiens, July 5, 1793. July 14, 1793. July 23, 1793. Peronne, July 29, 1793. August 1, 1793. Soissons, August 4, 1793. Peronne, August, 1793. Peronne, August 24, 1793. Peronne, August 29, 1793. Peronne, Sept. 7, 1793. Maison d'Arret, Arras, O
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Amiens, January, 1793.
Amiens, January, 1793.
Vanity, I believe, my dear brother, is not so innoxious a quality as we are desirous of supposing. As it is the most general of all human failings, so is it regarded with the most indulgence: a latent consciousness averts the censure of the weak; and the wise, who flatter themselves with being exempt from it, plead in its favour, by ranking it as a foible too light for serious condemnation, or too inoffensive for punishment. Yet, if vanity be not an actual vice, it is certainly a potential one—i
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Amiens, 1793.
Amiens, 1793.
Dear Brother, I have thought it hitherto a self evident proposition—that of all the principles which can be inculcated in the human mind, that of liberty is least susceptible of propagation by force. Yet a Council of Philosophers (disciples of Rousseau and Voltaire) have sent forth Dumouriez, at the head of an hundred thousand men, to instruct the people of Flanders in the doctrine of freedom. Such a missionary is indeed invincible, and the defenceless towns of the Low Countries have been conver
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Amiens, January 1793.
Amiens, January 1793.
I do all possible justice to the liberality of my countrymen, who are become such passionate admirers of the French; and I cannot but lament their having been so unfortunate in the choice of the aera from whence they date this new friendship. It is, however, a proof, that their regards are not much the effect of that kind of vanity which esteems objects in proportion as they are esteemed by the rest of the world; and the sincerity of an attachment cannot be better evinced than by its surviving i
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Amiens, February 15, 1793.
Amiens, February 15, 1793.
I did not, as I promised, write immediately on my return from Chantilly; the person by whom I intended to send my letter having already set out for England, and the rule I have observed for the last three months of entrusting nothing to the post but what relates to our family affairs, is now more than ever necessary. I have before requested, and I must now insist, that you make no allusion to any political matter whatever, nor even mention the name of any political person. Do not imagine that yo
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Amiens, Feb. 25, 1793.
Amiens, Feb. 25, 1793.
I told you, I believe, in a former letter, that the people of Amiens were all aristocrates: they have, nevertheless, two extremely popular qualifications—I mean filth and incivility. I am, however, far from imputing either of them to the revolution. This grossness of behavior has long existed under the palliating description of "la franchise Picarde," ["Picardy frankness."] and the floors and stairs of many houses will attest their preeminence in filth to be of a date much anterior to the revolu
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Amiens, 1793.
Amiens, 1793.
I have been to-day to take a last view of the convents: they are now advertised for sale, and will probably soon be demolished. You know my opinion is not, on the whole, favourable to these institutions, and that I thought the decree which extinguishes them, but which secured to the religious already profest the undisturbed possession of their habitations during life, was both politic and humane. Yet I could not see the present state of these buildings without pain—they are now inhabited by volu
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March 23, 1793.
March 23, 1793.
The partizans of the French in England alledge, that the revolution, by giving them a government founded on principles of moderation and rectitude, will be advantageous to all Europe, and more especially to Great Britain, which has so often suffered by wars, the fruit of their intrigues.—This reasoning would be unanswerable could the character of the people be changed with the form of their government: but, I believe, whoever examines its administration, whether as it relates to foreign powers o
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Rouen, March 31, 1793.
Rouen, March 31, 1793.
Rouen, like most of the great towns in France, is what is called decidedly aristocratic; that is, the rich are discontented because they are without security, and the poor because they want bread. But these complaints are not peculiar to large places; the causes of them equally exist in the smallest village, and the only difference which fixes the imputation of aristocracy on one more than the other, is, daring to murmur, or submitting in silence. I must here remark to you, that the term aristoc
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Amiens, April 7, 1793.
Amiens, April 7, 1793.
If the sentiments of the people towards their present government had been problematical before, the visible effect of Dumouriez' conduct would afford an ample solution of the problem. That indifference about public affairs which the prospect of an established despotism had begun to create has vanished—all is hope and expectation—the doors of those who retail the newspapers are assailed by people too impatient to read them— each with his gazette in his hand listens eagerly to the verbal circulati
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April 20, 1793.
April 20, 1793.
Before these halcyon days of freedom, the supremacy of Paris was little felt in the provinces, except in dictating a new fashion in dress, an improvement in the art of cookery, or the invention of a minuet. At present our imitations of the capital are something more serious; and if our obedience be not quite so voluntary, it is much more implicit. Instead of receiving fashions from the Court, we take them now from the dames des balles, [Market-women.] and the municipality; and it must be allowed
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May 18, 1793.
May 18, 1793.
Near six weeks ago a decree was passed by the Convention, obliging all strangers, who had not purchased national property, or who did not exercise some profession, to give security to the amount of half their supposed fortune, and under these conditions they were to receive a certificate, allowing them to reside, and were promised the protection of the laws. The administrators of the departments, who perceive that they become odious by executing the decrees of the Convention, begin to relax much
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June 3, 1793.
June 3, 1793.
We have been three days without receiving newspapers; but we learn from the reports of the courier, that the Brissotins are overthrown, that many of them have been arrested, and several escaped to raise adherents in the departments. I, however, doubt much if their success will be very general: the people have little preference between Brissot and Marat, Condorcet and Robespierre, and are not greatly solicitous about the names or even principles of those who govern them—they are not yet accustome
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June 20, 1793.
June 20, 1793.
Mercier, in his Tableau de Paris, notices, on several occasions, the little public spirit existing among his countrymen—it is also observable, that many of the laws and customs presume on this deficiency, and the name of republicans has by no means altered that cautious disposition which makes the French consider either misfortunes or benefits only as their personal interest is affected by them.—I am just returned from a visit to Abbeville, where we were much alarmed on Sunday by a fire at the P
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June 30, 1793.
June 30, 1793.
Our modern travellers are mostly either sentimental or philosophical, or courtly or political; and I do not remember to have read any who describe the manner of living among the gentry and middle ranks of life in France. I will, therefore, relieve your attention for a moment from our actual distresses, and give you the picture of a day as usually passed by those who have easy fortunes and no particular employment.—The social assemblage of a whole family in the morning, as in England, is not very
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Amiens, July 5, 1793.
Amiens, July 5, 1793.
It will be some consolation to the French, if, from the wreck of their civil liberty, they be able to preserve the mode of administering justice as established by the constitution of 1789. Were I not warranted by the best information, I should not venture an opinion on the subject without much diffidence, but chance has afforded me opportunities that do not often occur to a stranger, and the new code appears to me, in many parts, singularly excellent, both as to principle and practice.—Justice i
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July 14, 1793.
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 barb
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July 23, 1793.
July 23, 1793.
The events of Paris which are any way remarkable are so generally circulated, that I do not often mention them, unless to mark their effect on the provinces; but you will be so much misled by the public papers with regard to the death of Marat, that I think it necessary to notice the subject while it is yet recent in my memory. Were the clubs, the Convention, or the sections of Paris to be regarded as expressing the sense of the people, the assassination of this turbulent journalist must be cons
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Peronne, July 29, 1793.
Peronne, July 29, 1793.
Every attempt to obtain passports has been fruitless, and, with that sort of discontented resignation which is the effect of necessity, I now look upon myself as fixed here till the peace. I left Mr. and Mrs. D____ yesterday morning, the disappointment operating upon them in full force. The former takes longer walks than usual, breaks out in philippics against tyrannies of all kinds, and swears ten times a day that the French are the most noisy people upon earth—the latter is vexed, and, for tha
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August 1, 1793.
August 1, 1793.
When the creation of assignats was first proposed, much ingenuity was employed in conjecturing, and much eloquence displayed in expatiating upon, the various evils that might result from them; yet the genius of party, however usually successful in gloomy perspective, did not at that time imagine half the inconvenience this measure was fraught with. It was easy, indeed, to foresee, that an immense circulation of paper, like any other currency, must augment the price of every thing; but the excess
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Soissons, August 4, 1793.
Soissons, August 4, 1793.
"And you may go by Beauvais if you will, for which reason many go by Beauvais;" and the stranger who turns out of his road to go by Soissons, must use the same reasoning, for the consciousness of having exercised his free agency will be all his reward for visiting Soissons. This, by the way; for my journey hither not being one of curiosity, I have no right to complain; yet somehow or other, by associating the idea of the famous Vase, the ancient residence of the first French Kings, and other cir
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Peronne, August, 1793.
Peronne, August, 1793.
I have often regretted, my dear brother, that my letters have for some time been rather intended to satisfy your curiosity than your affection. At this moment I feel differently, and I rejoice that the inquietude and danger of my situation will, probably, not come to your knowledge till I shall be no longer subject to them. I have been for several days unwell, and yet my body, valetudinarian as I am at best, is now the better part of me; for my mind has been so deranged by suspense and terror, t
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Peronne, August 24, 1793.
Peronne, August 24, 1793.
I have been out to-day for the first time since the arrest of the English, and, though I have few acquaintances here, my adventure at the Hotel de Ville has gained me a sort of popularity. I was saluted by many people I did not know, and overwhelmed with expressions of regret for what had happened, or congratulations on my having escaped so well. The French are not commonly very much alive to the sufferings of others, and it is some mortification to my vanity that I cannot, but at the expence of
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Peronne, August 29, 1793.
Peronne, August 29, 1793.
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, ha
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Peronne, Sept. 7, 1793.
Peronne, Sept. 7, 1793.
The successes of the enemy on all sides, the rebellion at Lyons and Marseilles, with the increasing force of the insurgents in La Vendee, have revived our eagerness for news, and if the indifference of the French character exempt them from more patriotic sensations, it does not banish curiosity; yet an eventful crisis, which in England would draw people together, here keeps them apart. When an important piece of intelligence arrives, our provincial politicians shut themselves up with their gazet
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Maison d'Arret, Arras, Oct. 15, 1793.
Maison d'Arret, Arras, Oct. 15, 1793.
Dear Brother, The fears of a timid mind usually magnify expected evil, and anticipated suffering often diminishes the effect of an apprehended blow; yet my imagination had suggested less than I have experienced, nor do I find that a preparatory state of anxiety has rendered affliction more supportable. The last month of my life has been a compendium of misery; and my recollection, which on every other subject seems to fail me, is, on this, but too faithful, and will enable me to relate events wh
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Maison d'Arret, Arras, Oct. 17, 1793.
Maison d'Arret, Arras, Oct. 17, 1793.
On the night I concluded my last, a report that Commissioners were to visit the house on the morrow obliged me to dispose of my papers beyond the possibility of their being found. The alarm is now over, and I proceed.—After something more than three weeks indisposition, I began to walk in the yard, and make acquaintance with our fellow-prisoners. Mad. de ____ had already discovered several that were known to her, and I now found, with much regret, that many of my Arras friends were here also. Ha
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Oct. 18.
Oct. 18.
I begin to be very uneasy about Mr. and Mrs. D____. I have written several times, and still receive no answer. I fear they are in a confinement more severe than my own, or that our letters miscarry. A servant of Mad. de ____'s was here this morning, and no letters had come to Peronne, unless, as my friend endeavours to persuade me, the man would not venture to give them in presence of the guard, who par excellence happened to be a furious Jacobin.—We had the mortification of hearing that a very
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Oct. 19.
Oct. 19.
We are disturbed almost nightly by the arrival of fresh prisoners, and my first question of a morning is always "N'est il pas du monde entre la nuit?" —Angelique's usual reply is a groan, and "Ah, mon Dieu, oui;" "Une dixaine de pretres;" or, "Une trentaine de nobles:" ["Did not some people arrive in the night?"]—"Yes, God help us—half a score priests, or twenty or thirty gentry." And I observe the depth of the groan is nearly in proportion to the quality of the person she commiserates. Thus, a
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Oct. 20.
Oct. 20.
The unfortunate Queen, after a trial of some days, during which she seems to have behaved with great dignity and fortitude, is no longer sensible of the regrets of her friends or the malice of her enemies. It is singular, that I have not yet heard her death mentioned in the prison —every one looks grave and affects silence. I believe her death has not occasioned an effect so universal as that of the King, and whatever people's opinions may be, they are afraid of expressing them: for it is said,
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Arras, 1793.
Arras, 1793.
For some days previous to the battle by which Maubeuge was relieved, we had very gloomy apprehensions, and had the French army been unsuccessful and forced to fall back, it is not improbable but the lives of those detained in the Maison d'Arret [House of detention.] might have been sacrificed under pretext of appeasing the people, and to give some credit to the suspicions so industriously inculcated that all their defeats are occasioned by internal enemies. My first care, as soon as I was able t
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Oct. 21.
Oct. 21.
I have this day made a discovery of a very unpleasant nature, which Mad. de ____ had hitherto cautiously concealed from me. All the English, and other foreigners placed under similar circumstances, are now, without exception, arrested, and the confiscation of their property is decreed. It is uncertain if the law is to extend to wearing apparel, but I find that on this ground the Committee of Peronne persist in refusing to take the seals off my effects, or to permit my being supplied with any nec
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Oct. 22.
Oct. 22.
Mad. de ____'s _homme d'affaires_ [Agent] has been here to-day, but no news from Amiens. I know not what to conjecture. My patience is almost exhausted, and my spirits are fatigued. Were I not just now relieved by a distant prospect of some change for the better, my situation would be insupportable.—"Oh world! oh world! but that thy strange mutations make us wait thee, life would not yield to age." We should die before our time, even of moral diseases, unaided by physical ones; but the uncertain
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Oct. 25.
Oct. 25.
I have discontinued my journal for three days to attend my friend, Mad. de ____, who has been ill. Uneasiness, and want of air and exercise, had brought on a little fever, which, by the usual mode of treatment in this country, has been considerably increased. Her disorder did not indeed much alarm me, but I cannot say as much of her medical assistants, and it seems to me to be almost supernatural that she has escaped the jeopardy of their prescriptions. In my own illness I had trusted to nature,
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Oct. 27.
Oct. 27.
I thought, when I wrote the above, that the house was really so full as to be incapable of containing more; but I did not do justice to the talents of our keeper. The last two nights have brought us an addition of several waggon loads of nuns, farmers, shopkeepers, &c. from the neighbouring towns, which he has still contrived to lodge, though much in the way that he would pack goods in bales. Should another convoy arrive, it is certain that we must sleep perpendicularly, for even now, wh
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Oct. 30.
Oct. 30.
For some days the guards have been so untractable, and the croud at the door has been so great, that Fleury was obliged to make various efforts before he could communicate the result of his negotiation. He has at length found means to inform us, that his friend the tailor had exerted all his interest in our favour, but that Dumont and Le Bon (as often happens between neighbouring potentates) are at war, and their enmity being in some degree subject to their mutual fears, neither will venture to
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Bicetre at Amiens, Nov. 18, 1793.
Bicetre at Amiens, Nov. 18, 1793.
Nous voila donc encore, logees a la nation; that is to say, the common prison of the department, amidst the thieves, vagabonds, maniacs, &c. confined by the old police, and the gens suspects recently arrested by the new.—I write from the end of a sort of elevated barn, sixty or seventy feet long, where the interstices of the tiles admit the wind from all quarters, and scarcely exclude the rain, and where an old screen and some curtains only separate Mad. de ____, myself, and our servants
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November 19, 1793.
November 19, 1793.
The English in general, especially of late years, have been taught to entertain very formidable notions of the Bastille and other state prisons of the ancient government, and they were, no doubt, horrid enough; yet I have not hitherto been able to discover that those of the new republic are any way preferable. The only difference is, that the great number of prisoners which, for want of room, are obliged to be heaped together, makes it impossible to exclude them as formerly from communication, a
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Nov. 20.
Nov. 20.
Besides the gentry and clergy of this department, we have likewise for companions a number of inhabitants of Lisle, arrested under circumstances singularly atrocious, even where atrocity is the characteristic of almost every proceeding.—In the month of August a decree was passed to oblige all the nobility, clergy, and their servants, as well as all those persons who had been in the service of emigrants, to depart from Lisle in eight-and-forty hours, and prohibiting their residence within twenty
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December.
December.
Last night, after we had been asleep about an hour, (for habit, that "lulls the wet sea-boy on the high and giddy mast," has reconciled us to sleep even here,) we were alarmed by the trampling of feet, and sudden unlocking of our door. Our apprehensions gave us no time for conjecture —in a moment an ill-looking fellow entered the room with a lantern, two soldiers holding drawn swords, and a large dog! The whole company walked as it were processionally to the end of the apartment, and, after obse
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Amiens, Providence, Dec. 10, 1793.
Amiens, Providence, Dec. 10, 1793.
We have again, as you will perceive, changed our abode, and that too without expecting, and almost without desiring it. In my moments of sullenness and despondency, I was not very solicitous about the modifications of our confinement, and little disposed to be better satisfied with one prison than another: but, heroics apart, external comforts are of some importance, and we have, in many respects, gained by our removal. Our present habitation is a spacious building, lately a convent, and though
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Providence, Dec. 20, 1793.
Providence, Dec. 20, 1793.
"All places that are visited by the eye of Heaven, are to the wise man happy havens." If Shakspeare's philosophy be orthodox, the French have, it must be confessed, many claims to the reputation of a wise people; and though you know I always disputed their pretensions to general gaiety, yet I acknowledge that misfortune does not deprive them of the share they possess, and, if one may judge by appearances, they have at least the habit, more than any other nation, of finding content under situatio
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A RESIDENCE IN FRANCE
A RESIDENCE IN FRANCE
January 6, 1794. January, 1794. Providence, Jan. 29. February 2, 1794. February 12, 1794. [No date given.] March 1, 1794. March, 1794. March 5, 1794. March 17, 1794. Providence, April 15, 1794. April 22, 1794. April 30, 1794. June 3, 1794. June 11, 1794. Providence, Aug. 11, 1794. August 12. Providence, Aug. 13, 1794. Providence, Aug. 14, 1794. Providence, Aug. 15, 1794. August, 1794. [No Date Given] Amiens, Sept. 30, 1794. Amiens, October 4, 1794. October 6, 1794. [No Date or Place Given.] Amie
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January 6, 1794.
January 6, 1794.
If I had undertaken to follow the French revolution through all its absurdities and iniquities, my indolence would long since have taken the alarm, and I should have relinquished a task become too difficult and too laborious. Events are now too numerous and too complicated to be described by occasional remarks; and a narrator of no more pretensions than myself may be allowed to shrink from an abundance of matter which will hereafter perplex the choice and excite the wonder of the historian.—Remo
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January, 1794.
January, 1794.
The total suppression of all religious worship in this country is an event of too singular and important a nature not to have been commented upon largely by the English papers; but, though I have little new to add on the subject, my own reflections have been too much occupied in consequence for me to pass it over in silence. I am yet in the first emotions of wonder: the vast edifice which had been raised by the blended efforts of religion and superstition, which had been consecrated by time, end
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Providence, Jan. 29.
Providence, Jan. 29.
We are now quite domesticated here, though in a very miserable way, without fire, and with our mattresses, on the boards; but we nevertheless adopt the spirit of the country, and a total absence of comfort does not prevent us from amusing ourselves. My friend knits, and draws landscapes on the backs of cards; and I have established a correspondence with an old bookseller, who sends me treatises of chemistry and fortifications, instead of poetry and memoirs. I endeavoured at first to borrow books
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February 2, 1794.
February 2, 1794.
The factions which have chosen to give France the appellation of a republic, seem to have judged, and with some reason, that though it might answer their purpose to amuse the people with specious theories of freedom, their habits and ideas were far from requiring that these fine schemes should be carried into practice. I know of no example equal to the submission of the French at this moment; and if "departed spirits were permitted to review the world," the shades of Richelieu or Louvois might h
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February 12, 1794.
February 12, 1794.
I was too much occupied by my personal distresses to make any remarks on the revolutionary government at the time of its adoption. The text of this political phoenomenon must be well known in England—I shall, therefore, confine myself to giving you a general idea of its spirit and tendency,—It is, compared to regular government, what force is to mechanism, or the usual and peaceful operations of nature to the ravages of a storm—it substitutes violence for conciliation, and sweeps with precipitat
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[No date given.]
[No date given.]
Were I a mere spectator, without fear for myself or compassion for others, the situation of this country would be sufficiently amusing. The effects produced (many perhaps unavoidably) by a state of revolution—the strange remedies devised to obviate them—the alternate neglect and severity with which the laws are executed—the mixture of want and profusion that distinguish the lower classes of people—and the distress and humiliation of the higher; all offer scenes so new and unaccountable, as not t
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March 1, 1794.
March 1, 1794.
The freedom of the press is so perfectly well regulated, that it is not surprizing we are indulged with the permission of seeing the public papers: yet this indulgence is often, I assure you, a source of much perplexity to me—our more intimate associates know that I am a native of England, and as often as any debates of our House of Commons are published, they apply to me for explanations which it is not always in my power to give them. I have in vain endeavoured to make them comprehend the natu
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March, 1794.
March, 1794.
The aspect of the times promises no change in our favour; on the contrary, every day seems to bring its attendant evil. The gentry who had escaped the comprehensive decree against suspected people, are now swept away in this and the three neighbouring departments by a private order of the representatives, St. Just, Lebas, and Dumont.* * The order was to arrest, without exception, all the ci-devant Noblessse, men, women, and children, in the departments of the Somme, North, and Pas de Calais, and
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March 5, 1794.
March 5, 1794.
Of what strange influence is this word revolution, that it should thus, like a talisman of romance, keep inchained, as it were, the reasoning faculties of twenty millions of people! France is at this moment looking for the decision of its fate in the quarrels of two miserable clubs, composed of individuals who are either despised or detested. The municipality of Paris favours the Cordeliers, the Convention the Jacobins; and it is easy to perceive, that in this cafe the auxiliaries are principals
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March 17, 1794.
March 17, 1794.
After some days of agitation and suspense, we learn that the popularity of Robespierre is victorious, and that Hebert and his partizans are arrested. Were the intrinsic claims of either party considered, without regard to the circumstances of the moment, it might seem strange I should express myself as though the result of a contest between such men could excite a general interest: yet a people sadly skilled in the gradations of evil, and inured to a choice only of what is bad, learn to prefer c
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Providence, April 15, 1794.
Providence, April 15, 1794.
"The friendship of bad men turns to fear:" and in this single phrase of our popular bard is comprized the history of all the parties who have succeeded each other during the revolution.—Danton has been sacrificed to Robespierre's jealousy,* and Camille Desmoulins to support his popularity;** and both, after sharing in the crimes, and contributing to the punishment, of Hebert and his associates, have followed them to the same scaffold. * The ferocious courage of Danton had, on the 10th of August,
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April 22, 1794.
April 22, 1794.
Our abode becomes daily more crouded; and I observe, that the greater part of those now arrested are farmers. This appears strange enough, when we consider how much the revolutionary persecution has hitherto spared this class of people; and you will naturally enquire why it has at length reached them. It has been often observed, that the two extremes of society are nearly the same in all countries; the great resemble each other from education, the little from nature. Comparisons, therefore, of m
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April 30, 1794.
April 30, 1794.
For some years previous to the revolution, there were several points in which the French ascribed to themselves a superiority not very distant from perfection. Amongst these were philosophy, politeness, the refinements of society, and, above all, the art of living.—I have sometimes, as you know, been inclined to dispute these claims; yet, if it be true that in our sublunary career perfection is not stationary, and that, having reached the apex of the pyramid on one side, we must necessarily desc
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June 3, 1794.
June 3, 1794.
The individual sufferings of the French may perhaps yet admit of increase; but their humiliation as a people can go no farther; and if it were not certain that the acts of the government are congenial to its principles, one might suppose this tyranny rather a moral experiment on the extent of human endurance, than a political system. Either the vanity or cowardice of Robespierre is continually suggesting to him plots for his assassination; and on pretexts, at once absurd and atrocious, a whole f
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June 11, 1794.
June 11, 1794.
The immorality of Hebert, and the base compliances of the Convention, for some months turned the churches into "temples of reason."—The ambition, perhaps the vanity, of Robespierre, has now permitted them to be dedicated to the "Supreme Being," and the people, under such auspices, are to be conducted from atheism to deism. Desirous of distinguishing his presidency, and of exhibiting himself in a conspicuous and interesting light, Robespierre, on the last decade, appeared as the hero of a ceremon
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Providence, Aug. 11, 1794.
Providence, Aug. 11, 1794.
I have for some days contemplated the fall of Robespierre and his adherents, only as one of those dispensations of Providence, which were gradually to pursue all who had engaged in the French revolution. The late change of parties has, however, taken a turn I did not expect; and, contrary to what has hitherto occurred, there is a manifest disposition in the people to avail themselves of the weakness which is necessarily occasioned by the contentions of their governors. When the news of this extr
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August 12.
August 12.
My letters, previous to the time when I judged it necessary to desist from writing, will have given you some faint sketch of the situation of the country, and the sufferings of its inhabitants—I say a faint sketch, because a thousand horrors and iniquities, which are now daily disclosing, were then confined to the scenes where they were perpetrated; and we knew little more of them than what we collected from the reports of the Convention, where they excited a laugh as pleasantries, or applause a
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Providence, Aug. 13, 1794.
Providence, Aug. 13, 1794.
Amour, tu perdis Troye [Love! thou occasionedst the destruction of Troy.]:—yet, among the various mischiefs ascribed to the influence of this capricious Sovereign, amidst the wrecks of sieges, and the slaughter of battles, perhaps we may not unjustly record in his praise, that he was instrumental to the solace of humanity, by contributing to the overthrow of Robespierre. It is at least pleasing to turn from the general horrors of the revolution, and suppose, for a moment, that the social affecti
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Providence, Aug. 14, 1794.
Providence, Aug. 14, 1794.
The thirty members whom Robespierre intended to sacrifice, might perhaps have formed some design of resisting, but it appears evident that the Convention in general acted without plan, union, or confidence.*— * The base and selfish timidity of the Convention is strongly evinced by their suffering fifty innocent people to be guillotined on the very ninth of Thermidor, for a pretended conspiracy in the prison of St. Lazare.—A single word from any member might at this crisis have suspended the exec
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Providence, Aug. 15, 1794.
Providence, Aug. 15, 1794.
To-morrow I expect to quit this place, and have been wandering over it for the last time. You will imagine I can have no attachment to it: yet a retrospect of my sensations when I first arrived, of all I have experienced, and still more of what I have apprehended since that period, makes me look forward to my departure with a satisfaction that I might almost call melancholy. This cell, where I have shivered through the winter—the long passages, which I have so often traversed in bitter ruminatio
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August, 1794.
August, 1794.
I did not leave the Providence until some days after the date of my last: there were so many precautions to be taken, and so many formalities to be observed—such references from the municipality to the district, and from the district to the Revolutionary Committee, that it is evident Robespierre's death has not banished the usual apprehension of danger from the minds of those who became responsible for acts of justice or humanity. At length, after procuring a house-keeper to answer with his life
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[No Date Given]
[No Date Given]
When I describe the French as a people bending meekly beneath the most absurd and cruel oppression, transmitted from one set of tyrants to another, without personal security, without commerce—menaced by famine, and desolated by a government whose ordinary resources are pillage and murder; you may perhaps read with some surprize the progress and successes of their armies. But, divest yourself of the notions you may have imbibed from interested misrepresentations—forget the revolutionary common-pl
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Amiens, Sept. 30, 1794.
Amiens, Sept. 30, 1794.
The domestic politics of France are replete with novelties: the Convention is at war with the Jacobins—and the people, even to the most decided aristocrats, have become partizans of the Convention.—My last letters have explained the origin of these phaenomena, and I will now add a few words on their progress. You have seen that, at the fall of Robespierre, the revolutionary government had reached the very summit of despotism, and that the Convention found themselves under the necessity of appear
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Amiens, October 4, 1794.
Amiens, October 4, 1794.
We have had our guard withdrawn for some days; and I am just now returned from Peronne, where we had been in order to see the seals taken off the papers, &c. which I left there last year. I am much struck with the alteration observable in people's countenances. Every person I meet seems to have contracted a sort of revolutionary aspect: many walk with their heads down, and with half-shut eyes measure the whole length of a street, as though they were still intent on avoiding greetings fro
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October 6, 1794.
October 6, 1794.
The sufferings of individuals have often been the means of destroying or reforming the most powerful tyrannies; reason has been convinced by argument, and passion appealed to by declamation in vain—when some unvarnished tale, or simple exposure of facts, has at once rouzed the feelings, and conquered the supineness of an oppressed people. The revolutionary government, in spite of the clamorous and weekly swearings of the Convention to perpetuate it, has received a check from an event of this nat
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[No Date or Place Given.]
[No Date or Place Given.]
It appears, that the greater part of the inhabitants of Poitou, Anjou, and the Southern divisions of Brittany, now distinguished by the general appellation of the people of La Vendee, (though they include those of several other departments,) never either comprehended or adopted the principles of the French revolution. Many different causes contributed to increase their original aversion from the new system, and to give their resistance that consistency, which has since become so formidable. A pa
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Amiens, Oct. 24, 1794.
Amiens, Oct. 24, 1794.
Revolutions, like every thing else in France, are a mode, and the Convention already commemorate four since 1789: that of July 1789, which rendered the monarchical power nugatory; that of August the 10th, 1792, which subverted it; the expulsion of the Brissotins, in May 1793; and the death of Robespierre, in July 1794. The people, accustomed, from their earliest knowledge, to respect the person and authority of the King, felt that the events of the two first epochs, which disgraced the one and a
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Amiens, Nov. 2, 1794.
Amiens, Nov. 2, 1794.
Every post now brings me letters from England; but I perceive, by the suppressed congratulations of my friends, that, though they rejoice to find I am still alive, they are far from thinking me in a state of security. You, my dear Brother, must more particularly have lamented the tedious confinement I have endured, and the inconveniencies to which I have been subjected; I am, however, persuaded that you would not wish me to have been exempt from a persecution in which all the natives of England,
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Basse-ville, Arras, Nov. 6, 1794.
Basse-ville, Arras, Nov. 6, 1794.
Since my own liberation, I have been incessantly employed in endeavouring to procure the return of my friends to Amiens; who, though released from prison some time, could not obtain passports to quit Arras. After numerous difficulties and vexations, we have at length succeeded, and I am now here to accompany them home. I found Mr. and Mrs. D____ much altered by the hardships they have undergone: Mrs. D____, in particular, has been confined some months in a noisome prison called the Providence, o
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Amiens, Nov. 26, 1794.
Amiens, Nov. 26, 1794.
The Constituent Assembly, the Legislative Assembly, and the National Convention, all seem to have acted from a persuasion, that their sole duty as revolutionists was comprised in the destruction of whatever existed under the monarchy. If an institution were discovered to have the slightest defect in principle, or to have degenerated a little in practice, their first step was to abolish it entirely, and leave the replacing it for the present to chance, and for the future to their successors. In r
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Amiens, Nov. 29, 1794.
Amiens, Nov. 29, 1794.
The selfish policy of the Convention in affecting to respect and preserve the Jacobin societies, while it deprived them of all power, and help up the individuals who composed them to abhorrence, could neither satisfy nor deceive men versed in revolutionary expedients, and more accustomed to dictate laws than to submit to them.* * The Jacobins were at this time headed by Billaud Varenne, Collot, Thuriot, &c.—veterans, who were not likely to be deceived by temporizing. Supported by all the
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Amiens. [No date given.]
Amiens. [No date given.]
I do not yet venture to correspond with my Paris friends by the post, but whenever the opportunity of private conveyance occurs, I receive long and circumstantial letters, as well as packets, of all the publications most read, and the theatrical pieces most applauded. I have lately drudged through great numbers of these last, and bestowed on them an attention they did not in themselves deserve, because I considered it as one means of judging both of the spirit of the government and the morals of
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Amiens, Dec. 10, 1794.
Amiens, Dec. 10, 1794.
Your American friend passed through here yesterday, and delivered me the two parcels. As marks of your attention, they were very acceptable; but on any other account, I assure you, I should have preferred a present of a few pecks of wheat to all your fineries. I have been used to conclude, when I saw such strange and unaccountable absurdities given in the French papers as extracts from the debates in either of your Houses of Parliament, that they were probably fabricated here to serve the design
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Amiens, Dec. 16, 1794.
Amiens, Dec. 16, 1794.
The seventy-three Deputies who have been so long confined are now liberated, and have resumed their seats. Jealousy and fear for some time rendered the Convention averse from the adoption of this measure; but the public opinion was so determined in favour of it, that farther resistance might not have been prudent. The satisfaction created by this event is general, though the same sentiment is the result of various conclusions, which, however, all tend to one object—the re-establishment of monarc
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December 24, 1794.
December 24, 1794.
I am now at a village a few miles from Amiens, where, upon giving security in the usual form, we have been permitted to come for a few days on a visit to some relations of my friend Mad. de ____. On our arrival, we found the lady of the house in a nankeen pierrot, knitting grey thread stockings for herself, and the gentleman in a thick woollen jacket and pantaloons, at work in the fields, and really labouring as hard as his men.—They hope, by thus taking up the occupation and assuming the appear
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December 27, 1794.
December 27, 1794.
I took the opportunity of my being here to go about four leagues farther to see an old convent acquaintance lately come to this part of the country, and whom I have not met since I was at Orleans in 1789. The time has been when I should have thought such a history as this lady's a romance, but tales of woe are now become familiar to us, and, if they create sympathy, they no longer excite surprize, and we hear of them as the natural effects of the revolution. Madame de St. E__m__d is the daughter
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Amiens, Jan. 23, 1795.
Amiens, Jan. 23, 1795.
Nothing proves more that the French republican government was originally founded on principles of despotism and injustice, than the weakness and anarchy which seem to accompany every deviation from these principles. It is strong to destroy and weak to protect: because, deriving its support from the power of the bad and the submission of the timid, it is deserted or opposed by the former when it ceases to plunder or oppress— while the fears and habits of the latter still prevail, and render them
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Amiens, Jan. 30, 1795.
Amiens, Jan. 30, 1795.
Delacroix, author of "Les Constitutions Politiques de l'Europe," [The Political Constitutions of Europe.] has lately published a work much read, and which has excited the displeasure of the Assembly so highly, that the writer, by way of preliminary criticism, has been arrested. The book is intitled "Le Spectateur Francais pendant la Revolution." [The French Spectator during the Revolution.] It contains many truths, and some speculations very unfavourable both to republicanism and its founders. I
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Beauvais, March 13, 1795.
Beauvais, March 13, 1795.
I have often, in the course of these letters, experienced how difficult it is to describe the political situation of a country governed by no fixed principles, and subject to all the fluctuations which are produced by the interests and passions of individuals and of parties. In such a state conclusions are necessarily drawn from daily events, minute facts, and an attentive observation of the opinions and dispositions of the people, which, though they leave a perfect impression on the mind of the
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Amiens, April 12, 1795.
Amiens, April 12, 1795.
Instead of commenting on the late disorders at Paris, I subjoin the translation of a letter just received by Mrs. D———— from a friend, whose information, we have reason to believe, is as exact as can possibly be obtained in the chaos of little intrigues which now comprise the whole science of French politics. "Paris, April 9. "Though I know, my good friend, you are sufficiently versed in the technicals of our revolution not to form an opinion of occurrences from the language in which they are of
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Amiens, May 9, 1795.
Amiens, May 9, 1795.
Whilst all Europe is probably watching with solicitude the progress of the French arms, and the variations of their government, the French themselves, almost indifferent to war and politics, think only of averting the horrors of famine. The important news of the day is the portion of bread which is to be distributed; and the siege of Mentz, or the treaty with the King of Prussia, are almost forgotten, amidst enquiries about the arrival of corn, and anxiety for the approach of harvest. The same p
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Amiens, May 26, 1795.
Amiens, May 26, 1795.
Our journey to Paris has been postponed by the insurrection which occurred on the first and second of Prairial, (20th and 21st of May,) and which was not like that of Germinal, fabricated—but a real and violent attempt of the Jacobins to regain their power. Of this event it is to be remarked, that the people of Paris were at first merely spectators, and that the Convention were at length defended by the very classes which they have so long oppressed under the denomination of aristocrats. For sev
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Paris, June 3, 1795.
Paris, June 3, 1795.
We arrived here early on Saturday, and as no stranger coming to Paris, whether a native of France, or a foreigner, is suffered to remain longer than three days without a particular permission, our first care was to present ourselves to the Committee of the section where we lodge, and, on giving proper security for our good conduct, we have had this permission extended to a Decade. I approached Paris with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, as though I expected the scenes which had passed in
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Paris, June 6, 1795.
Paris, June 6, 1795.
I had scarcely concluded my last, when I received advice of the death of Madame de la F————; and though I have, almost from the time we quitted the Providence, thought she was declining, and that such an event was probable, it has, nevertheless, both shocked and grieved me. Exclusively of her many good and engaging qualities, which were reasonable objects of attachment, Madame de la F———— was endeared to me by those habits of intimacy that often supply the want of merit, and make us adhere to ou
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Paris, June 8, 1795.
Paris, June 8, 1795.
Yesterday being Sunday, and to-day the Decade, we have had two holidays successively, though, since the people have been more at liberty to manifest their opinions, they give a decided preference to the Christian festival over that of the republic.* * This was only at Paris, where the people, from their number, are less manageable, and of course more courageous. In the departments, the same cautious timidity prevailed, and appeared likely to continue. —They observe the former from inclination, a
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Paris, June 15, 1795.
Paris, June 15, 1795.
I am now, after a residence of more than three years, amidst the chaos of a revolution, on the eve of my departure from France. Yet, while I joyfully prepare to revisit my own country, my mind involuntarily traces the rapid succession of calamities which have filled this period, and dwells with painful contemplation on those changes in the morals and condition of the French people that seem hitherto to be the only fruits which they have produced. In this recurrence to the past, and estimation of
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Amiens, June 18, 1795.
Amiens, June 18, 1795.
We returned hither yesterday, and on Friday we are to proceed to Havre, accompanied by an order from the Committee of Public Welfare, stating that several English families, and ourselves among the number, have been for some time a burthen on the generosity of the republic, and that for this reason we are permitted to embark as soon as we can find the means. This is neither true, nor very gallant; but we are too happy in quitting the republic, to cavil about terms, and would not exchange our paup
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Havre, June 22, 1795.
Havre, June 22, 1795.
We are now in hourly expectation of sailing for England: we have agreed with the Captain of a neutral vessel, and are only waiting for a propitious wind. This good ally of the French seems to be perfectly sensible of the value of a conveyance out of the republic, and accordingly we are to pay him about ten times more for our passage than he would have asked formerly. We chose this port in preference to Calais or Boulogne, because I wished to see my friend Madame de ——— at Rouen, and leave Angeli
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