December.
Laſt night, after we had been aſleep about an hour, (for habit, that "lulls the wet ſea-boy on the high and giddy maſt," has reconciled us to ſleep even here,) we were alarmed by the trampling of feet, and ſudden unlocking of our door. Our apprehenſions gave us no time for conjecture —in a moment an ill-looking fellow entered the room with a lantern, two ſoldiers holding drawn ſwords, and a large dog! The whole company walked as it were proceſſionally to the end of the apartment, and, after obſerving in ſilence the beds on each ſide, left us. It would not be eaſy to deſcribe what we ſuffered at this moment: for my own part, I thought only of the maſſacres of September, and the frequent propoſals at the Jacobins and the Convention for diſpatching the "gens ſuſpect," and really concluded I was going to terminate my exiſtence "revolutionnairement." I do not now know the purport of theſe viſits, but I find they are not unuſual, and moſt probably intended to alarm the priſoners.
After many enquiries and meſſages, I have had the mortification of hearing that Mr. and Mrs. D____ were taken to Arras, and were there even before I left it. The letters ſent to and from the different priſons are read by ſo many people, and paſs through ſo many hands, that it is not ſurprizing we have not heard from each other. As far as I can learn, they had obtained leave, after their firſt arreſt, to remove to a houſe in the vicinity of Dourlens for a few days, on account of Mrs. D____'ſ health, which had ſuffered by paſſing the ſummer in the town, and that at the taking of Toulon they were again arreſted while on a viſit, and conveyed to a Maiſon d'Arret at Arras. I am the more anxious for them, as it ſeems they were unprepared for ſuch an event; and as the ſeals were put upon their effects, I fear they muſt be in want of every thing. I might, perhaps, have ſucceeded in getting them removed here, but Fleury'ſ Arras friend, it ſeems, did not think, when the Convention had aboliſhed every other part of Chriſtianity, that they intended ſtill to exact a partial obſervance of the eighth article of the decalogue; and having, in the ſenſe of Antient Piſtol, "conveyed" a little too notoriouſly, Le Bon has, by way of ſecuring him from notice or purſuit, ſent him to the frontiers in the capacity of Commiſſary.
The priſon, conſidering how many French inhabitants it contains, iſ tolerably quiet—to ſay the truth, we are not very ſociable, and ſtill leſs gay. Common intereſt eſtabliſhes a ſort of intimacy between thoſe of the ſame apartment; but the reſt of the houſe paſs each other, without farther intercourſe than ſilent though ſignificant civility. Sometimeſ you ſee a pair of unfortunate ariſtocrates talking politics at the end of a paſſage, or on a landing-place; and here and there a bevy of females, en deſhabille, recounting altogether the ſubject of their arreſt. One'ſ ear occaſionally catches a few half-ſuppreſſed notes of a proſcribed aire, but the unhallowed ſounds of the Carmagnole and Marſeillois are never heard, and would be thought more diſſonant here than the war-whoop. In fact, the only appearance of gaiety is among the ideots and lunatics. —"Je m'ennuye furieuſement," is the general exclamation.—An Engliſhman confined at the Bicetre would expreſs himſelf more forcibly, but, it iſ certain, the want of knowing how to employ themſelves does not form a ſmall part of the diſtreſſes of our fellow-priſoners; and when they tell us they are "ennuyes," they ſay, perhaps, nearly as much as they feel— for, as far as I can obſerve, the loſs of liberty has not the ſame effect on a Frenchman as an Engliſhman. Whether this ariſes from political cauſes, or the natural indifference of the French character, I am not qualified to determine; probably from both: yet when I obſerve thiſ facility of mind general, and by no means peculiar to the higher claſſes, I cannot myſelf but be of opinion, that it is more an effect of their original diſpoſition than of their form of government; for though in England we were accuſtomed from our childhood to conſider every man in France as liable to wake and find himſelf in the Baſtille, or at Mont St. Michel, this formidable deſpotiſm exiſted more in theory than in practice; and if courtiers and men of letters were intimidated by it, the maſs of the people troubled themſelves very little about Lettres de Cachet. The revenge or ſuſpicion of Miniſters might ſometimes purſue thoſe who aimed at their power, or aſſailed their reputation; but the leſſer gentry, the merchants, or the ſhopkeepers, were very ſeldom victims of arbitrary impriſonment—and I believe, amongſt the evils which it was the object of the revolution to redreſs, this (except on the principle) was far from being of the firſt magnitude. I am not likely, under my preſent circumſtances, to be an advocate for the deſpotiſm of any form of government; and I only give it as a matter of opinion, that the civil liberty of the French was not ſo often and generally violated,* as to influence their character in ſuch a degree as to render them inſenſible of its loſs. At any rate, we muſt rank it among the bizarrerieſ [Unaccountable whimſical events.] of this world, that the French ſhould have been prepared, by the theory of oppreſſion under their old ſyſtem, for enduring the practice of it under the new one; and that what during the monarchy was only poſſible to a few, is, under the republic, almoſt certain to all.
* I remember in 1789, after the deſtruction of the Baſtille, our compaſſionate countrymen were taught to believe that this tremendouſ priſon was peopled with victims, and that even the dungeons were inhabited; yet the truth is, though it would not have told ſo pathetically, or have produced ſo much theatrical effect, there were only ſeven perſons confined in the whole building, and certainly not one in the dungeons.
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.