I have frequently observed how little taste the French have for the
country, and I believe all my companions, except Mr. de _____, who took
(as one always does) an interest in surveying his property, were heartily
ennuyes with our little excursion.--Mad.  De _____, on her arrival, took
her post by the farmer’s fire-side, and was out of humour the whole day,
inasmuch as our fare was homely, and there was nothing but rustics to see
or be seen by.   That a plain dinner should be a serious affair, you may
not wonder; but the last cause of distress, perhaps you will not conclude
quite so natural at her years.   All that can be said about it is, that
she is a French woman, who rouges, and wears lilac ribbons, at
seventy-four.   I hope, in my zeal to obey you, my reflections will not
be too voluminous.—­For the present I will be warned by my conscience,
and add only, that I am, Yours.

June 10, 1792.

You observe, with some surprize, that I make no mention of the Jacobins—­ the fact is, that until now I have heard very little about them.  Your English partizans of the revolution have, by publishing their correspondence with these societies, attributed a consequence to them infinitely beyond what they have had pretensions to:—­a prophet, it is said, is not honoured in his own country—­I am sure a Jacobin is not.  In provincial towns these clubs are generally composed of a few of the lowest tradesmen, who have so disinterested a patriotism, as to bestow more attention on the state than on their own shops; and as a man may be an excellent patriot without the aristocratic talents of reading and writing, they usually provide a secretary or president, who can supply these deficiencies—­a country attorney, a Pere de l’oratoire, or a disbanded capuchin, is in most places the candidate for this office.  The clubs often assemble only to read the newspapers; but where they are sufficiently in force, they make motions for “fetes,” censure the municipalities, and endeavour to influence the elections of the members who compose them.—­That of Paris is supposed to consist of about six thousand members; but I am told their number and influence are daily increasing, and that the National Assembly is more subservient to them than it is willing to acknowledge—­yet, I believe, the people at large are equally adverse to the Jacobins, who are said to entertain the chimerical project of forming a republic, and to the Aristocrates, who wish to restore the ancient government.  The party in opposition to both these, who are called the Feuillans,* have the real voice of the people with them, and knowing this, they employ less art than their opponents, have no point of union, and perhaps may finally be undermined by intrigue, or even subdued by violence.

     They derive this appellation, as the Jacobins do theirs, from the
     convent at which they hold their meetings.