of their form of government, which he said was “detestable.”  My cowardice did not permit me to argue much in its behalf, (for I look upon these people as more dangerous than the spies of the old police,) and I only ventured to observe, with great diffidence, that though the English government was monarchical, yet the power of the Crown was very much limited; and that as the chief subjects of our complaints at present were not our institutions, but certain practical errors, they might be remedied without any violent or radical changes; and that our nobility were neither numerous nor privileged, and by no means obnoxious to the majority of the people.—­"Ah, vous avez donc de la noblesse blesse en Angleterre, ce sont peut-etre les milords," ["What, you have nobility in England then?  The milords, I suppose.”] exclaimed our republican, and it operated on my whole system of defence like my uncle Toby’s smoke-jack, for there was certainly no discussing the English constitution with a political critic, who I found was ignorant even of the existence of a third branch of it; yet this reformer of governments and abhorrer of Kings has power delegated to him more extensive than those of an English Sovereign, though I doubt if he can write his own language; and his moral reputation is still less in his favour than his ignorance—­for, previous to the revolution, he was known only as a kind of swindler, and has more than once been nearly convicted of forgery.—­This is, however, the description of people now chiefly employed, for no honest man would accept of such commissions, nor perform the services annexed to them.

Bread continues very scarce, and the populace of Paris are, as usual, very turbulent; so that the neighbouring departments are deprived of their subsistence to satisfy the wants of a metropolis that has no claim to an exemption from the general distress, but that which arises from the fears of the Convention.  As far as I have opportunity of learning or observing, this part of France is in that state of tranquillity which is not the effect of content but supineness; the people do not love their government, but they submit to it, and their utmost exertions amount only to a little occasional obstinacy, which a few dragoons always reduce to compliance.  We are sometimes alarmed by reports that parties of the enemy are approaching the town, when the gates are shut, and the great bell is toll’d; but I do not perceive that the people are violently apprehensive about the matter.  Their fears are, I believe, for the most part, rather personal than political—­they do not dread submission to the Austrians, but military licentiousness.