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 rumination—the garden, where I have painfully breathed a purer air, at the riſk of ſinking beneath the fervid rays of an unmitigated ſun, are not ſcenes to excite regret; but when I think that I am ſtill ſubject to the tyranny which has ſo long condemned me to them, this reflection, with a ſentiment perhaps of national pride, which is wounded by accepting as a favour what I have been unjuſtly deprived of, renders me compoſed, if not indifferent, at the proſpect of my releaſe.
This dreary epoch of my life has not been without its alleviations. I have found a chearful companion in Mad. de M____, who, at ſixty, waſ brought here, becauſe ſhe happened to be the daughter of Count L____, who has been dead theſe thirty yearſ!—The graces and ſilver accents of Madame de B____, might have aſſiſted in beguiling ſeverer captivity; and the Counteſs de C____, and her charming daughters (the eldeſt of whom iſ not to be deſcribed in the common place of panegyric), who, though they have borne their own afflictions with dignity, have been ſenſible to the miſfortunes of others, and whom I muſt, in juſtice, except from all the imputations of meanneſs or levity, which I have ſometimes had occaſion to notice in thoſe who, like themſelves, were objects of republican perſecution, have eſſentially contributed to diminiſh the horrors of confinement.—I reckon it likewiſe among my ſatiſfactions, that, with the exception of the Marechalle de Biron,* and General O'Moran, none of our fellow-priſoners have ſuffered on the ſcaffold.—
* The Marechalle de Biron, a very old and infirm woman, was taken from hence to the Luxembourg at Paris, where her daughter-in-law, the Ducheſs, was alſo confined. A cart arriving at that priſon to convey a number of victims to the tribunal, the liſt, in the coarſe dialect of republicaniſm, contained the name of la femme Biron. "But there are two of them," ſaid the keeper. "Then bring them both."— The aged Marechalle, who was at ſupper, finiſhed her meal while the reſt were preparing, then took up her book of devotion, and departed chearfully.—The next day both mother and daughter were guillotined.
—Dumont has, indeed, virtually occaſioned the death of ſeveral; in particular the Duc du Chatelet, the Comte de Bethune, Mons. de Mancheville, &c.—and it is no merit in him that Mr. Luttrell, with a poor nun of the name of Pitt,* whom he took from hence to Paris, as a capture which might give him importance, were not maſſacred either by the mob or the tribunal.
* This poor woman, whoſe intellects, as I am informed, appeared in a ſtate of derangement, was taken from a convent at Abbeville, and brought to the Providence, as a relation of Mr. Pitt, though I believe ſhe has no pretenſions to that honour. But the name of Pitt gave her importance; ſhe was ſent to Paris under a military eſcort, and Dumont announced the arrival of this miſerable victim with all the airs of a conqueror. I have been ſince told, ſhe was lodged at St. Pelagie, where ſhe ſuffered innumerable hardſhips, and did not recover her liberty for many months after the fall of Robeſpierre.
—If the perſecution of this department has not been ſanguinary,* it ſhould be remembered, that it has been covered with priſons; and that the extreme ſubmiſſion of its inhabitants would ſcarcely have furniſhed the moſt mercileſs tyrant with a pretext for a ſeverer regimen.—
* There were ſome prieſts guillotined at Amiens, but the circumſtance was concealed from me for ſome months after it happened.
—Dumont, I know, expects to eſtabliſh a reputation by not having guillotined as an amuſement, and hopes that he may here find a retreat when his revolutionary labours ſhall be finiſhed.
The Convention have not yet choſen the members who are to form the new Committee. They were yeſterday ſolemnly employed in receiving the American Ambaſſador; likewiſe a braſs medal of the tyrant Louis the Fourteenth, and ſome marvellous information about the unfortunate Princeſſ' having dreſſed herſelf in mourning at the death of Robeſpierre. Theſe legiſlators remind me of one of Swift's female attendants, who, in ſpite of the literary taſte he endeavoured to inſpire her with, never could be diveſted of her original houſewifely propenſities, but would quit the moſt curious anecdote, as he expreſſes it, "to go ſeek an old rag in a cloſet." Their projects for the revival of their navy ſeldom go farther than a tranſpoſal in the ſtripes of the flag, and their vengeance againſt regal anthropophagi, and proud iſlanders, is infallibly diverted by a denunciation of an ariſtocratic quartrain, or ſome new mode, whoſe general adoption renders it ſuſpected as the badge of a party.—If, according to Cardinal de Retz' opinion, elaborate attention to trifleſ denote a little mind, theſe are true Lilliputian ſages.—Yours, &c.