* The Abbe, in his "notices sur la Vie de Sieyes," declares that his contempt and detestation of the colleagues “with whom his unfortunate stars had connected him,” were so great, that he determined, from his first arrival at the Convention, to take no part in public affairs.  As these were his original sentiments of the Assembly, perhaps he may hereafter explain by which of their operations his esteem was so much reconciled, that he has condescended to become their leader.

Paris may, without exaggeration, be described as in a state of famine.  The markets are scantily supplied, and bread, except the little distributed by order of the government, not to be obtained:  yet the inhabitants, for the most part, are not turbulent—­they have learned too late, that revolutions are not the source of plenty, and, though they murmur and execrate their rulers, they abstain from violence, and seem rather inclined to yield to despair, than to seek revenge.  This is one proof, among a variety of others, that the despotism under which the French have groaned for the last three years, has much subdued the vivacity and impatience of the national character; for I know of no period in their history, when such a combination of personal suffering and political discontent, as exists at present, would not have produced some serious convulsion.

Amiens, June 18, 1795.

We returned hither yesterday, and on Friday we are to proceed to Havre, accompanied by an order from the Committee of Public Welfare, stating that several English families, and ourselves among the number, have been for some time a burthen on the generosity of the republic, and that for this reason we are permitted to embark as soon as we can find the means.  This is neither true, nor very gallant; but we are too happy in quitting the republic, to cavil about terms, and would not exchange our pauper-like passports for a consignment of all the national domains.

I have been busy to-day in collecting and disposing of my papers, and though I have taken infinite pains to conceal them, their bulk is so considerable, that the conveyance must be attended with risk.  While I was thus employed, the casual perusal of some passages in my letters and notes has led me to consider how much my ideas of the French character and manners differ from those to be found in the generality of modern travels.  My opinions are not of importance enough to require a defence; and a consciousness of not having deviated from truth makes me still more averse from an apology.  Yet as I have in several instances varied from authorities highly respectable, it may not be improper to endeavour to account for what has almost the appearance of presumption.