Yesterday was appointed for taking the new oath of liberty and equality.  I did not see the ceremony, as the town was in much confusion, and it was deemed unsafe to be from home.  I understand it was attended only by the very refuse of the people, and that, as a gallanterie analogue, the President of the department gave his arm to Madame Duchene, who sells apples in a cellar, and is Presidente of the Jacobin club.  It is, however, reported to-day, that she is in disgrace with the society for her condescension; and her parading the town with a man of forty thousand livres a year is thought to be too great a compliment to the aristocracy of riches; so that Mons. Le President’s political gallantry has availed him nothing.  He has debased and made himself the ridicule of the Aristocrates and Constitutionalists, without paying his court, as he intended, to the popular faction.  I would always wish it to happen so to those who offer up incense to the mob.  As human beings, as one’s fellow creatures, the poor and uninformed have a claim to our affection and benevolence, but when they become legislators, they are absurd and contemptible tyrants.—­A propos—­we were obliged to acknowledge this new sovereignty by illuminating the house on the occasion; and this was not ordered by nocturnal vociferation as in England, but by a regular command from an officer deputed for that purpose.

I am concerned to see the people accustomed to take a number of incompatible oaths with indifference:  it neither will nor can come to any good; and I am ready to exclaim with Juliet—­“Swear not at all.”  Or, if ye must swear, quarrel not with the Pope, that your consciences may at least be relieved by dispensations and indulgences.

To-morrow we go to Lisle, notwithstanding the report that it has already been summoned to surrender.  You will scarcely suppose it possible, yet we find it difficult to learn the certainty of this, at the distance of only thirty miles:  but communication is much less frequent and easy here than in England.  I am not one of those “unfortunate women who delight in war;” and, perhaps, the sight of this place, so famous for its fortifications, will not be very amusing to me, nor furnish much matter of communication for my friends; but I shall write, if it be only to assure you that I am not made prize of by the Austrians.  Yours, &c.

Lisle, August, 1792.

You restless islanders, who are continually racking imagination to perfect the art of moving from one place to another, and who can drop asleep in a carriage and wake at an hundred mile distance, have no notion of all the difficulties of a day’s journey here.  In the first place, all the horses of private persons have been taken for the use of the army, and those for hire are constantly employed in going to the camp—­hence, there is a difficulty in procuring horses.  Then a French carriage is never in order, and in France a job is not to be done just when you want it—­so