Our clothes, &c. are at length entirely releaſed from ſequeſtration, and the ſeals taken off. We are indebted for this act of juſtice to the intrigues of Tallien, whoſe belle Eſpagnole is conſiderably intereſted. Tallien's good fortune is ſo much envied, that ſome of the members were little enough to move, that the property of the Spaniſh Bank of St. Charles (in which Madame T——'s is included) ſhould be excepted from the decree in favour of foreigners. The Convention were weak enough to accede; but the exception will, doubtleſs, be over-ruled.

The weather is ſevere beyond what it has been in my remembrance. The thermometer was this morning at fourteen and a half. It is, beſides, potentially cold, and every particle of air is like a dart.—I ſuppoſe you contrive to keep yourſelves warm in England, though it is not poſſible to do ſo here. The houſes are neither furniſhed nor put together for the climate, and we are fanned by theſe congealing winds, aſ though the apertures which admit them were deſigned to alleviate the ardours of an Italian ſun.

The ſatin hangings of my room, framed on canvas, wave with the galeſ lodged behind them every ſecond. A pair of "ſilver cupids, nicely poiſed on their brands," ſupport a wood fire, which it is an occupation to keep from extinguiſhing; and all the illuſion of a gay orange-grove pourtrayed on the tapeſtry at my feet, is diſſipated by a villainous chaſm of about half an inch between the floor and the ſkirting-boards. Then we have ſo many correſponding windows, ſupernumerary doors, "and paſſages that lead to nothing," that all our Engliſh ingenuity in comfortable arrangement iſ baffled.—When the cold firſt became ſo inſupportable, we attempted to live entirely in the eating-room, which is warmed by a poele, or German ſtove, but the kind of heat it emits is ſo depreſſive and relaxing to thoſe who are not inured to it, that we are again returned to our large chimney and wood-fire.—The French depend more on the warmth of their clothing, than the comfort of their houſes. They are all wadded and furred as though they were going on a ſledge party, and the men, in thiſ reſpect, are more delicate than the ladies: but whether it be the conſequence of theſe precautions, or from any other cauſe, I obſerve they are, in general, without excepting even the natives of the Southern provinces, leſs ſenſible of cold than the Engliſh.

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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. It ventures to doubt the free acceptance of the democratic conſtitution, propoſes indirectly the reſtoration of the monarchy, and dilates with great compoſure on a plan for tranſporting to America all the Deputies who voted for the King's death. The popularity of the work, ſtill more than its principles, has contributed to exaſperate the Aſſembly; and ſerious apprehenſions are entertained for the fate of Delacroix, who is ordered for trial to the Revolutionary Tribunal.

It would aſtoniſh a ſuperficial obſerver to ſee with what avidity all forbidden doctrines are read. Under the Church and Monarchy, a deiſtical or republican author might ſometimes acquire proſelytes, or become the favourite amuſement of faſhionable or literary people; but the circulation of ſuch works could be only partial, and amongſt a particular claſs of readers: whereas the treaſon of the day, which compriſeſ whatever favours Kings or religion, is underſtood by the meaneſt individual, and the temptation to theſe prohibited enjoyments is aſſiſted both by affection and prejudice.—An almanack, with a pleaſantry on the Convention, or a couplet in behalf of royaliſm, is handed myſteriouſly through half a town, and a brochure [A pamphlet.] of higher pretenſions, though on the ſame principles, is the very bonne bouche of our political gourmandſ. [Gluttons.]

There is, in fact, no liberty of the preſs. It is permitted to write againſt Barrere or the Jacobins, becauſe they are no longer in power; but a ſingle word of diſreſpect towards the Convention is more certain of being followed by a Lettre de Cachet, than a volume of ſatire on any of Louis the Fourteenth's miniſters would have been formerly. The only period in which a real freedom of the preſs has exiſted in France were thoſe years of the late King's reign immediately preceding the revolution; and either through the contempt, ſupineneſs, or worſe motives, of thoſe who ſhould have checked it, it exiſted in too great a degree: ſo that deiſts and republicans were permitted to corrupt the people, and undermine the government without reſtraint.*

* It is well known that Calonne encouraged libels on the Queen, to obtain credit for his zeal in ſuppreſſing them; and the culpable vanity of Necker made made him but too willing to raiſe his own reputation on the wreck of that of an unſuſpecting and unfortunate Monarch.

After the fourteenth of July 1789, political literature became more ſubject to mobs and the lanterne, than ever it had been to Miniſters and Baſtilles; and at the tenth of Auguſt 1792, every veſtige of the liberty of the preſs diſappeared.*—