, and an undefinable
sensation of terror seizes on one's heart. I feel that I have committed
an imprudence in venturing to Paris; but the barriers are now shut, and I
must abide the event. I know not to what these proscriptions tend, or if
all who are not their advocates are to be their victims; but an
ungovernable rage animates the people: many of them have papers in their
hands that seem to direct them to their objects, to whom they hurry in
crouds with an eager and savage fury.--I have just been obliged to quit
my pen. A cart had stopped near my lodgings, and my ears were assailed
by the groans of anguish, and the shouts of frantic exultation.
Uncertain whether to descend or remain, I, after a moment's deliberation,
concluded it would be better to have shown myself than to have appeared
to avoid it, in case the people should enter the house, and therefore
went down with the best show of courage I could assume.--I will draw a
veil over the scene that presented itself--nature revolts, and my fair
friends would shudder at the detail. Suffice it to say, that I saw cars,
loaded with the dead and dying, and driven by their yet ensanguined
murderers; one of whom, in a tone of exultation, cried, 'Here is a
glorious day for France!' I endeavoured to assent, though with a
faultering voice, and, as soon as they were passed escaped to my room.
You may imagine I shall not easily recover the shock I received.--At this
moment they say, the enemy are retreating from Verdun. At any other time
this would have been desirable, but at present one knows not what to wish
for. Most probably, the report is only spread with the humane hope of
appeasing the mob. They have already twice attacked the Temple; and I
tremble lest this asylum of fallen majesty should ere morning, be
violated.

"Adieu--I know not if the courier will be permitted to depart; but, as I
believe the streets are not more unsafe than the houses, I shall make an
attempt to send this. I will write again in a few days. If to-morrow
should prove calm, I shall be engaged in enquiring after the fate of my
friends.--I beg my respects to Mons. And Mad. de ____; and entreat you
all to be as tranquil as such circumstances will permit.--You may be
certain of hearing any news that can give you pleasure immediately. I
have the honour to be," &c. &c.

Arras, September, 1792.

You will in future, I believe, find me but a dull correspondent. The
natural timidity of my