iberty, which still
remains on the Grande Place. But "a month, a little month," ago, on this
altar the French swore to maintain the constitution, and to be faithful
to the law and the King; yet this constitution is no more, the laws are
violated, the King is dethroned, and the altar is now only a monument of
levity and perjury, which they have not feeling enough to remove.

The Austrians are daily expected to besiege this place, and they may
destroy, but they will not take it. I do not, as you may suppose,
venture to speak so decisively in a military point of view--I know as
little as possible of the excellencies of Vauban, or the adequacy of the
garrison; but I draw my inference from the spirit of enthusiasm which
prevails among the inhabitants of every class--every individual seems to
partake of it: the streets resound with patriotic acclamations, patriotic
songs, war, and defiance.--Nothing can be more animating than the
theatre. Every allusion to the Austrians, every song or sentence,
expressive of determined resistance, is followed by bursts of assent,
easily distinguishable not to be the effort of party, but the sentiment
of the people in general. There are, doubtless, here, as in all other
places, party dissensions; but the threatened siege seems at least to
have united all for their common defence: they know that a bomb makes no
distinction between Feuillans, Jacobins, or Aristocrates, and neither are
so anxious to destroy the other, when it is only to be done at such a
risk to themselves. I am even willing to hope that something better than
mere selfishness has a share in their uniting to preserve one of the
finest, and, in every sense, one of the most interesting, towns in
France.

Lisle, Saturday.

We are just on our departure for Arras, where, I fear, we shall scarcely
arrive before the gates are shut. We have been detained here much beyond
our time, by a circumstance infinitely shocking, though, in fact, not
properly a subject of regret. One of the assassins of General Dillon was
this morning guillotined before the hotel where we are lodged.--I did
not, as you will conclude, see the operation; but the mere circumstance
of knowing the moment it was performed, and being so near it, has much
unhinged me. The man, however, deserved his fate, and such an example
was particularly necessary at this time, when we are without a
government, and the laws are relaxed. The mere privation of life is,
pe