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 now crouded with more priſoners by two or three hundred than it will hold conveniently, yet we are better lodged than at the Bicetre, and we have alſo a large garden, good water, and, what above all iſ deſirable, the liberty of delivering our letters or meſſages ourſelveſ (in preſence of the guard) to any one who will venture to approach us. Mad. de ____ and myſelf have a ſmall cell, where we have juſt room to place our beds, but we have no fire-place, and the maids are obliged to ſleep in an adjoining paſſage.
A few evenings ago, while we were at the Bicetre, we were ſuddenly informed by the keeper that Dumont had ſent ſome ſoldiers with an order to convey us that night to the Providence. We were at firſt rather ſurprized than pleaſed, and reluctantly gathered our baggage together with as much expedition as we could, while the men who were to eſcort uſ were exclaiming "a la Francaiſe" at the trifling delay this occaſioned. When we had paſſed the gate, we found Fleury, with ſome porters, ready to receive our beds, and overjoyed at having procured us a more decent priſon, for, it ſeems, he could by no means reconcile himſelf to the name of Bicetre. We had about half a mile to walk, and on the road he contrived to acquaint us with the means by which he had ſolicited thiſ favour of Dumont. After adviſing with all Mad. de ____'s friends who were yet at liberty, and finding no one willing to make an effort in her behalf, for fear of involving themſelves, he diſcovered an old acquaintance in the "femme de chambre" of one of Fleury's miſtreſſes.— This, for one of Fleury's ſagacity, was a ſpring to have ſet the whole Convention in a ferment; and in a few days he profited ſo well by thiſ female patronage, as to obtain an order for tranſferring us hither. On our arrival, we were informed, as uſual, that the houſe was already full, and that there was no poſſibility of admitting us. We however, ſet up all night in the keeper's room with ſome other people newly arrived like ourſelves, and in the morning, after a little diſputing and a pretty general derangement of the more ancient inhabitants, we were "nichees," as I have deſcribed to you.
We have not yet quitted our room much, but I obſerve that every one appears more chearful, and more ſtudied in their toilette, than at the Bicetre, and I am willing to infer from thence that confinement here iſ leſs inſupportable.—I have been employed two days in enlarging the noteſ I had made in our laſt priſon, and in making them more legible, for I ventured no farther than juſt to ſcribble with a pencil in a kind of ſhort-hand of my own invention, and not even that without a variety of precautions. I ſhall be here leſs liable either to ſurprize or obſervation, and as ſoon as I have ſecured what I have already noted, (which I intend to do to-night,) I ſhall continue my remarks in the uſual form. You will find even more than my cuſtomary incorrectneſs and want of method ſince we left Peronne; but I ſhall not allow your competency aſ a critic, until you have been a priſoner in the hands of French republicans.
It will not be improper to notice to you a very ingenious decree of Gaſton, (a member of the Convention,) who lately propoſed to embark all the Engliſh now in France at Breſt, and then to ſink the ſhips.—Perhapſ the Committee of Public Welfare are now in a ſort of benevolent indeciſion, whether this, or Collot d'Herboiſ' gunpowder ſcheme, ſhall have the preference. Legendre's iron cage and ſimple hanging will, doubtleſs, be rejected, as too ſlow and formal. The mode of the day iſ "les grandes meſures." If I be not ſeriouſly alarmed at theſe propoſitions, it is not that life is indifferent to me, or that I think the government too humane to adopt them. My tranquillity ariſes from reflecting that ſuch meaſures would be of no political uſe, and that we ſhall moſt likely be ſoon forgotten in the multitude of more important concerns. Thoſe, however, whom I endeavour to conſole by this reaſoning, tell me it is nothing leſs than infallible, that the inutility of a crime is here no ſecurity againſt its perpetration, and that any project which tends to evil will ſooner be remembered than one of humanity or juſtice.
[End of Vol. I. The Printed Books]