The frantic ebullitions of the revolutionary government are now as it were subsided, and instead of appearing the temporary resources of “despotism in distress,” [Burke.] have assumed the form of a permanent and regular system.  The agitation occasioned by so many unexampled scenes is succeeded by an habitual terror, and this depressing sentiment has so pervaded all ranks, that it would be difficult to find an individual, however obscure or inoffensive, who deems his property, or even his existence, secure only for a moment.  The sound of a bell or a knocker at the close of the evening is the signal of dismay.  The inhabitants of the house regard each other with looks of fearful interrogation—­all the precautions hitherto taken appear insufficient—­ every one recollects something yet to be secreted—­a prayer-book, an unburied silver spoon, or a few assignats “a face royale,” are hastily scrambled together, and if the visit prove nothing more than an amicable domiciliary one, in search of arms and corn, it forms matter of congratulation for a week after.  Yet such is the submission of the people to a government they abhor, that it is scarcely thought requisite now to arrest any person formally:  those whom it is intended to secure often receive nothing more than a written mandate* to betake themselves to a certain prison, and such unpleasant rendezvous are attended with more punctuality than the most ceremonious visit, or the most gallant assignation.

* These rescripts were usually couched in the following terms:—­
“Citizen, you are desired to betake yourself immediately to ------,
(naming the prison,) under pain of being conveyed there by an armed
force in case of delay.”

—­A few necessaries are hastily packed together, the adieus are made, and, after a walk to their prison, they lay their beds down in the corner allotted, just as if it were a thing of course.

It was a general observation with travellers, that the roads in France were solitary, and had rather the deserted appearance of the route of a caravan, than of the communications between different parts of a rich and populous kingdom.  This, however, is no longer true, and, as far as I can learn, they are now sufficiently crowded—­not, indeed, by curious itinerants, parties of pleasure, or commercial industry, but by Deputies of the Convention,* agents of subsistence,** committee men, Jacobin missionaries,*** troops posting from places where insurrection is just quelled to where it has just begun, besides the great and never-failing source of activity, that of conveying suspected people from their homes to prison, and from one prison to another.—­