We had a very narrow eſcape in coming home—the Hulans were at the village of ____, an hour after we paſſed through it, and treated the poor inhabitants, as they uſually do, with great inhumanity.—Nothing haſ alienated the minds of the people ſo much as the cruelties of theſe troopſ—they plunder and ill treat all they encounter; and their avarice is even leſs inſatiable than their barbarity. How hard is it, that the ambition of the Chiefs, and the wickedneſs of faction, ſhould thus fall upon the innocent cottager, who perhaps is equally a ſtranger to the names of the one, and the principles of the other!
The public papers will now inform you, that the French are at liberty to obtain a divorce on almoſt any pretext, or even on no pretext at all, except what many may think a very good one—mutual agreement. A lady of our acquaintance here is become a republican in conſequence of the decree, and probably will very ſoon avail herſelf of it; but thiſ conduct, I conceive, will not be very general.
Much has been ſaid of the gallantry of the French ladies, and not entirely without reaſon; yet, though ſometimes inconſtant wives, they are, for the moſt part, faithful friendſ—they ſacrifice the huſband without forſaking him, and their common intereſt is always promoted with as much zeal as the moſt inviolable attachment could inſpire. Mad. de C____, whom we often meet in company, is the wife of an emigrant, and iſ ſaid not to be abſolutely diſconſolate at his abſence; yet ſhe iſ indefatigable in her efforts to ſupply him with money: ſhe even riſks her ſafety by her ſolicitude, and has juſt now prevailed on her favourite admirer to haſten his departure for the frontiers, in order to convey a ſum ſhe has with much difficulty been raiſing. Such inſtances are, I believe, not very rare; and as a Frenchman uſually prefers his intereſt to every thing elſe, and is not quite ſo unaccommodating as an Engliſhman, an amicable arrangement takes place, and one ſeldom hears of a ſeparation.
The inhabitants of Arras, with all their patriotiſm, are extremely averſe from the aſſignats; and it is with great reluctance that they conſent to receive them at two-thirds of their nominal value. This diſcredit of the paper money has been now two months at a ſtand, and its riſe or fall will be determined by the ſucceſs of the campaign.—I bid you adieu for the laſt time from hence. We have already exceeded the propoſed length of our viſit, and ſhall ſet out for St. Omer to-morrow.—Yours.
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 the old for themſelves.
The country between this and Arras has the appearance of a garden cultivated for the common uſe of its inhabitants, and has all the fertility and beauty of which a flat ſurface is ſuſceptible. Bethune and Aire I ſhould ſuppoſe ſtrongly fortified. I did not fail, in paſſing through the former, to recollect with veneration the faithful miniſter of Henry the Fourth. The miſfortunes of the deſcendant of Henry, whom Sully* loved, and the ſtate of the kingdom he ſo much cheriſhed, made a ſtronger impreſſion on me than uſual, and I mingled with the tribute of reſpect a ſentiment of indignation.
* Maximilien de Bethune, Duc de Sully.
What perverſe and malignant influence can have excited the people either to incur or to ſuffer their preſent ſituation? Were we not well acquainted with the arts of factions, the activity of bad men, and the effect of their union, I ſhould be almoſt tempted to believe this change in the French ſupernatural. Leſs than three years ago, the name of Henri Quatre was not uttered without enthuſiaſm. The piece that tranſmitted the ſlighteſt anecdotes of his life was certain of ſucceſſ—the air that celebrated him was liſtened to with delight—and the decorations of beauty, when aſſociated with the idea of this gallant Monarch, became more irreſiſtible.*