--Yours, &c.

Amiens, 1792.

The departement de la Somme has the reputation of being a little
aristocratic. I know not how far this be merited, but the people are
certainly not enthusiasts. The villages we passed on our road hither
were very different from those on the frontiers--we were hailed by no
popular sounds, no cries of Vive la nation! except from here and there
some ragged boy in a red cap, who, from habit, associated this salutation
with the appearance of a carriage. In every place where there are half a
dozen houses is planted an unthriving tree of liberty, which seems to
wither under the baneful influence of the _bonnet rouge_. [The red cap.]
This Jacobin attribute is made of materials to resist the weather, and
may last some time; but the trees of liberty, being planted unseasonably,
are already dead. I hope this will not prove emblematic, and that the
power of the Jacobins may not outlive the freedom of the people.

The Convention begin their labours under disagreeable auspices. A
general terror seems to have seized on the Parisians, the roads are
covered with carriages, and the inns filled with travellers. A new
regulation has just taken place, apparently intended to check this
restless spirit. At Abbeville, though we arrived late and were fatigued,
we were taken to the municipality, our passports collated with our
persons, and at the inn we were obliged to insert in a book our names,
the place of our birth, from whence we came, and where we were going.
This, you will say, has more the features of a mature Inquisition, than a
new-born Republic; but the French have different notions of liberty from
yours, and take these things very quietly.--At Flixecourt we eat out of
pewter spoons, and the people told us, with much inquietude, that they
had sold their plate, in expectation of a decree of the Convention to
take it from them. This decree, however, has not passed, but the alarm
is universal, and does not imply any great confidence in the new
government.

I have had much difficulty in executing my commission, and have at last
fixed upon a house, of which I fear my friends will not approve; but the
panic which depopulates Paris, the bombardment of Lisle, and the
tranquillity which has hitherto prevailed here, has filled the town, and
rendered every kind of habitation scarce, and extravagantly dear: for you
must remark, that though the Amienois are all aristocrates, yet when an
intimidated su