I cannot but attribute this littleneſs and diſlike of morning exerciſe to the quantity of animal food the French eat at night, and to going to reſt immediately after it, in conſequence of which their activity is checked by indigeſtions, and they feel heavy and uncomfortable for half the ſucceeding day.—The French pique themſelves on being a gayer nation than the Engliſh; but they certainly muſt exclude their mornings from the account, for the forlorn and neglected figure of a Frenchman till dinner is a very antidote to chearfulneſs, eſpecially if contraſted with the animation of our countrymen, whoſe forenoon is paſſed in riding or walking, and who make themſelves at leaſt decent before they appear even in their own families.
The great difficulty the French have in finding amuſement makes them averſe from long reſidences in the country, and it is very uncommon for thoſe who can afford only one houſe not to prefer a town; but thoſe whoſe fortune will admit of it, live about three months of the year in the country, and the reſt in the neighbouring town. This, indeed, as they manage it, is no very conſiderable expence, for the ſame furniture often ſerves for both habitations, and the one they quit being left empty, requires no perſon to take charge of it, eſpecially as houſe-breaking iſ very uncommon in France; at leaſt it was ſo before the revolution, when the police was more ſtrict, and the laws againſt robbers were more ſevere.
You will ſay, I often deſcribe the habits and manners of a nation ſo frequently viſited, as though I were writing from Kamſchatka or Japan; yet it is certain, as I have remarked above, that thoſe who are merely itinerant have not opportunities of obſerving the modes of familiar life ſo well as one who is ſtationary, and travellers are in general too much occupied by more important obſervations to enter into the minute and trifling details which are the ſubject of my communications to you. But if your attention be ſometimes fatigued by occurrences or relations too well known, or of too little conſequence to be intereſting, I claim ſome merit in never having once deſcribed the proportions of a building, nor given you the hiſtory of a town; and I might have contrived as well to tax your patience by an erudite deſcription, as a ſuperficial reflection, or a female remark. The truth is, my pen is generally guided by circumſtances as they riſe, and my ideas have ſeldom any deeper origin than the ſcene before me. I have no books here, and I am apt to think if profeſſed travellers were deprived of this reſource, many learned etymologies and much profound compilation would be loſt to the modern reader.
The inſurgents of La Vendee continue to have frequent and decided ſucceſſes, but the inſurrections in the other departments languiſh. The avowed object of liberating the Convention is not calculated to draw adherents, and if any better purpoſe be intended, while a faction are the promoters of it, it will be regarded with too much ſuſpicion to procure any effectual movement. Yet, however partial and unconnected this revolt may be, it is an object of great jealouſy and inquietude: all the addreſſes or petitions brought in favour of it are received with diſapprobation, and ſuppreſſed in the official bulletin of the legiſlature; but thoſe which expreſs contrary ſentiments are ordered to be inſerted with the uſual terms of "applaudi, adopte, et mention honorable."—In this manner the army and the people, who derive their intelligence from theſe accounts (which are paſted up in the ſtreets,) are kept in ignorance of the real ſtate of diſtant provinces, and, what is ſtill more important for the Convention, the communication of examples, which they know ſo many are diſpoſed to imitate, is retarded.
The people here are nearly in the ſame ſtate they have been in for ſome time—murmuring in ſecret, and ſubmitting in public; expecting every thing from that energy in others which they have not themſelves, and accumulating the diſcontents they are obliged to ſuppreſs. The Convention call them the brave republicans of Amiens; but if their bravery were as unequivocal as their ariſtocracy, they would ſoon be at the gates of Paris. Even the firſt levies are not all departed for the frontiers, and ſome who were prevailed on to go are already returned.— All the neceſſaries of life are augmenting in price—the people complain, pillage the ſhops and the markets one day, and want the next. Many of the departments have oppoſed the recruiting much more decidedly than they have ventured to do here; and it was not without inſpiring terror by numerous arreſts, that the levies which were immediately neceſſary were procured.—France offers no proſpect but that of ſcarcity, diſorder, and oppreſſion; and my friends begin to perceive that we have committed an imprudence in remaining ſo long. No paſſports can now be obtained, and we muſt, as well as ſeveral very reſpectable families ſtill here, abide the event of the war.
Some weeks have elapſed ſince I had letters from England, and thoſe we receive from the interior come open, or ſealed with the ſeal of the diſtrict. This is not peculiar to our letters, as being foreigners, but the ſame unceremonious inſpection is practiſed with the correſpondence of the French themſelves. Thus, in this land of liberty, all epiſtolary intercourſe has ceaſed, except for mere matters of buſineſs; and though in the declaration of the rights of man it be aſſerted, that every one iſ entitled to write or print his thoughts, yet it is certain no perſon can entruſt a letter to the poſt, but at the riſk of having it opened; nor could Mr. Thomas Paine himſelf venture to expreſs the ſlighteſt diſapprobation of the meaſures of government, without hazarding hiſ freedom, and, in the end, perhaps, his life. Even theſe papers, which I reſerve only for your amuſement, which contain only the opinions of an individual, and which never have been communicated, I am obliged to conceal with the utmoſt circumſpection; for ſhould they happen to fall into the hands of our domiciliary inquiſitors, I ſhould not, like your Engliſh liberties, eſcape with the gentle correction of impriſonment, or the pillory.—A man, who had murdered his wife, was lately condemned to twenty years impriſonment only; but people are guillotined every day for a ſimple diſcourſe, or an inadvertent expreſſion.—Yours.
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 is here gratuitouſ—thoſe who adminiſter it are elected by the people—they depend only on their ſalaries, and have no fees whatever. Reaſonable allowances are made to witneſſes both for time and expences at the public charge—a loſs is not doubled by the coſts of a proſecution to recover it. In caſes of robbery, where property found is detained for the ſake of proof, it does not become the prey of official rapacity, but an abſolute reſtitution takes place.—The legiſlature has, in many reſpects, copied the laws of England, but it has ſimplified the forms, and rectified thoſe abuſes which make our proceedings in ſome caſes almoſt aſ formidable to the proſecutor as to the culprit. Having to compoſe an entire new ſyſtem, and being unſhackled by profeſſional reverence for precedents, they were at liberty to benefit by example, to reject thoſe errors which have been long ſanctioned by their antiquity, and are ſtill permitted to exiſt, through our dread of innovation. The French, however, made an attempt to improve on the trial by jury, which I think only evinces that the inſtitution as adopted in England is not to be excelled. The deciſion is here given by ballot—unanimity is not required—and three white balls are ſufficient to acquit the priſoner. This deviation from our mode ſeems to give the rich an advantage over the poor. I fear, that, in the number of twelve men taken from any country, it may ſometimes happen that three may be found corruptible: now the wealthy delinquent can avail himſelf of this human failing; but, "through tatter'd robes ſmall vices do appear," and the indigent ſinner has leſſ chance of eſcaping than another.
It is to be ſuppoſed, that, at this time, the vigour of the criminal lawſ is much relaxed, and their execution difficult. The army offers refuge and impunity to guilt of all kinds, and the magiſtrates themſelves would be apprehenſive of purſuing an offender who was protected by the mob, or, which is the ſame thing, by the Jacobins.