THE FRENCH REVOLUTION A HISTORY by THOMAS CARLYLE CONTENTS. VOLUME I. THE BASTILLE BOOK 1. I. DEATH OF LOUIS XV. Chapter 1. 1. I. Louis the Well-Beloved Chapter 1. 1. II. Realised Ideals Chapter 1. 1. III. Viaticum Chapter 1. 1. IV. Louis the Unforgotten BOOK 1. II. THE PAPER AGE Chapter 1. 2. I. Astraea Redux Chapter 1. 2. II. Petition in Hieroglyphs Chapter 1. 2. III. Questionable Chapter 1. 2. IV. Maurepas Chapter 1. 2. V. Astraea Redux without Cash Chapter 1. 2. VI. Windbags Chapter 1. 2. VII. Contrat Social Chapter 1. 2. VIII. Printed Paper BOOK 1. III. THE PARLEMENT OF PARIS Chapter 1. 3. I. Dishonoured Bills Chapter 1. 3. II. Controller Calonne Chapter 1. 3. III. The Notables Chapter 1. 3. IV. Lomenie's Edicts Chapter 1. 3. V. Lomenie's Thunderbolts Chapter 1. 3. VI. Lomenie's Plots Chapter 1. 3. VII. Internecine Chapter 1. 3. VIII. Lomenie's Death-throes Chapter 1. 3. IX. Burial with Bonfire BOOK 1. IV. STATES-GENERAL Chapter 1. 4. I. The Notables Again Chapter 1. 4. II. The Election Chapter 1. 4. III. Grown Electric Chapter 1. 4. IV. The Procession BOOK 1. V. THE THIRD ESTATE Chapter 1. 5. I. Inertia Chapter 1. 5. II. Mercury de Breze Chapter 1. 5. III. Broglie the War-God Chapter 1. 5. IV. To Arms! Chapter 1. 5. V. Give us Arms Chapter 1. 5. VI. Storm and Victory Chapter 1. 5. VII. Not a Revolt Chapter 1. 5. VIII. Conquering your King Chapter 1. 5. IX. The Lanterne Book 1. VI. CONSOLIDATION Chapter 1. 6. I. Make the Constitution Chapter 1. 6. II. The Constituent Assembly Chapter 1. 6. III. The General Overturn Chapter 1. 6. IV. In Queue Chapter 1. 6. V. The Fourth Estate BOOK 1. VII. THE INSURRECTION OF WOMEN Chapter 1. 7. I. Patrollotism Chapter 1. 7. II. O Richard, O my King Chapter 1. 7. III. Black Cockades Chapter 1. 7. IV. The Menads Chapter 1. 7. V. Usher Maillard Chapter 1. 7. VI. To Versailles Chapter 1. 7. VII. At Versailles Chapter 1. 7. VIII. The Equal Diet Chapter 1. 7. IX. Lafayette Chapter 1. 7. X. The Grand Entries Chapter 1. 7. XI. From Versailles VOLUME II. THE CONSTITUTION BOOK 2. I. THE FEAST OF PIKES Chapter 2. 1. I. In the Tuileries Chapter 2. 1. II. In the Salle de Manege Chapter 2. 1. III. The Muster Chapter 2. 1. IV. Journalism Chapter 2. 1. V. Clubbism Chapter 2. 1. VI. Je le jure Chapter 2. 1. VII. Prodigies Chapter 2. 1. VIII. Solemn League and Covenant Chapter 2. 1. IX. Symbolic Chapter 2. 1. X. Mankind Chapter 2. 1. XI. As in the Age of Gold Chapter 2. 1. XII. Sound and Smoke BOOK 2. II. NANCI Chapter 2. 2. I. Bouille Chapter 2. 2. II. Arrears and Aristocrats Chapter 2. 2. III. Bouille at Metz Chapter 2. 2. IV. Arrears at Nanci Chapter 2. 2. V. Inspector Malseigne Chapter 2. 2. VI. Bouille at Nanci BOOK 2. III. THE TUILERIES Chapter 2. 3. I. Epimenides Chapter 2. 3. II. The Wakeful Chapter 2. 3. III. Sword in Hand Chapter 2. 3. IV. To fly or not to fly Chapter 2. 3. V. The Day of Poniards Chapter 2. 3. VI. Mirabeau Chapter 2. 3. VII. Death of Mirabeau BOOK 2. IV. VARENNES Chapter 2. 4. I. Easter at Saint-Cloud Chapter 2. 4. II. Easter at Paris Chapter 2. 4. III. Count Fersen Chapter 2. 4. IV. Attitude Chapter 2. 4. V. The New Berline Chapter 2. 4. VI. Old-Dragoon Drouet Chapter 2. 4. VII. The Night of Spurs Chapter 2. 4. VIII. The Return Chapter 2. 4. IX. Sharp Shot BOOK 2. V. PARLIAMENT FIRST Chapter 2. 5. I. Grande Acceptation Chapter 2. 5. II. The Book of the Law Chapter 2. 5. III. Avignon Chapter 2. 5. IV. No Sugar Chapter 2. 5. V. Kings and Emigrants Chapter 2. 5. VI. Brigands and Jales Chapter 2. 5. VII. Constitution will not march Chapter 2. 5. VIII. The Jacobins Chapter 2. 5. IX. Minister Roland Chapter 2. 5. X. Petion-National-Pique Chapter 2. 5. XI. The Hereditary Representative Chapter 2. 5. XII. Procession of the Black Breeches BOOK 2. VI. THE MARSEILLESE Chapter 2. 6. I. Executive that does not act Chapter 2. 6. II. Let us march Chapter 2. 6. III. Some Consolation to Mankind Chapter 2. 6. IV. Subterranean Chapter 2. 6. V. At Dinner Chapter 2. 6. VI. The Steeples at Midnight Chapter 2. 6. VII. The Swiss Chapter 2. 6. VIII. Constitution burst in Pieces VOLUME III. THE GUILLOTINE BOOK 3. I. SEPTEMBER Chapter 3. 1. I. The Improvised Commune Chapter 3. 1. II. Danton Chapter 3. 1. III. Dumouriez Chapter 3. 1. IV. September in Paris Chapter 3. 1. V. A Trilogy Chapter 3. 1. VI. The Circular Chapter 3. 1. VII. September in Argonne Chapter 3. 1. VIII. Exeunt BOOK 3. II. REGICIDE Chapter 3. 2. I. The Deliberative Chapter 3. 2. II. The Executive Chapter 3. 2. III. Discrowned Chapter 3. 2. IV. The Loser pays Chapter 3. 2. V. Stretching of Formulas Chapter 3. 2. VI. At the Bar Chapter 3. 2. VII. The Three Votings Chapter 3. 2. VIII. Place de la Revolution BOOK 3. III. THE GIRONDINS Chapter 3. 3. I. Cause and Effect Chapter 3. 3. II. Culottic and Sansculottic Chapter 3. 3. III. Growing shrill Chapter 3. 3. IV. Fatherland in Danger Chapter 3. 3. V. Sansculottism Accoutred Chapter 3. 3. VI. The Traitor Chapter 3. 3. VII. In Fight Chapter 3. 3. VIII. In Death-Grips Chapter 3. 3. IX. Extinct BOOK 3. IV. TERROR Chapter 3. 4. I. Charlotte Corday Chapter 3. 4. II. In Civil War Chapter 3. 4. III. Retreat of the Eleven Chapter 3. 4. IV. O Nature Chapter 3. 4. V. Sword of Sharpness Chapter 3. 4. VI. Risen against Tyrants Chapter 3. 4. VII. Marie-Antoinette Chapter 3. 4. VIII. The Twenty-two BOOK 3. V. TERROR THE ORDER OF THE DAY Chapter 3. 5. I. Rushing down Chapter 3. 5. II. Death Chapter 3. 5. III. Destruction Chapter 3. 5. IV. Carmagnole complete Chapter 3. 5. V. Like a Thunder-Cloud Chapter 3. 5. VI. Do thy Duty Chapter 3. 5. VII. Flame-Picture BOOK 3. VI. THERMIDOR Chapter 3. 6. I. The Gods are athirst Chapter 3. 6. II. Danton, No weakness Chapter 3. 6. III. The Tumbrils Chapter 3. 6. IV. Mumbo-Jumbo Chapter 3. 6. V. The Prisons Chapter 3. 6. VI. To finish the Terror Chapter 3. 6. VII. Go down to BOOK 3. VII. VENDEMIAIRE Chapter 3. 7. I. Decadent Chapter 3. 7. II. La Cabarus Chapter 3. 7. III. Quiberon Chapter 3. 7. IV. Lion not dead Chapter 3. 7. V. Lion sprawling its last Chapter 3. 7. VI. Grilled Herrings Chapter 3. 7. VII. The Whiff of Grapeshot THE FRENCH REVOLUTION A HISTORY By THOMAS CARLYLE VOLUME I. --THE BASTILLE BOOK 1. I. DEATH OF LOUIS XV. Chapter 1. 1. I. Louis the Well-Beloved. President Henault, remarking on royal Surnames of Honour how difficultit often is to ascertain not only why, but even when, they wereconferred, takes occasion in his sleek official way, to make aphilosophical reflection. 'The Surname of Bien-aime (Well-beloved), 'says he, 'which Louis XV. Bears, will not leave posterity in the samedoubt. This Prince, in the year 1744, while hastening from one end ofhis kingdom to the other, and suspending his conquests in Flanders thathe might fly to the assistance of Alsace, was arrested at Metz by amalady which threatened to cut short his days. At the news of this, Paris, all in terror, seemed a city taken by storm: the churchesresounded with supplications and groans; the prayers of priests andpeople were every moment interrupted by their sobs: and it was from aninterest so dear and tender that this Surname of Bien-aime fashioneditself, a title higher still than all the rest which this great Princehas earned. ' (Abrege Chronologique de l'Histoire de France (Paris, 1775), p. 701. ) So stands it written; in lasting memorial of that year 1744. Thirtyother years have come and gone; and 'this great Prince' again liessick; but in how altered circumstances now! Churches resound not withexcessive groanings; Paris is stoically calm: sobs interrupt no prayers, for indeed none are offered; except Priests' Litanies, read or chantedat fixed money-rate per hour, which are not liable to interruption. Theshepherd of the people has been carried home from Little Trianon, heavyof heart, and been put to bed in his own Chateau of Versailles: theflock knows it, and heeds it not. At most, in the immeasurable tide ofFrench Speech (which ceases not day after day, and only ebbs towards theshort hours of night), may this of the royal sickness emerge from timeto time as an article of news. Bets are doubtless depending; nay, somepeople 'express themselves loudly in the streets. ' (Memoires de M. LeBaron Besenval (Paris, 1805), ii. 59-90. ) But for the rest, on greenfield and steepled city, the May sun shines out, the May evening fades;and men ply their useful or useless business as if no Louis lay indanger. Dame Dubarry, indeed, might pray, if she had a talent for it; Duked'Aiguillon too, Maupeou and the Parlement Maupeou: these, as they sitin their high places, with France harnessed under their feet, know wellon what basis they continue there. Look to it, D'Aiguillon; sharplyas thou didst, from the Mill of St. Cast, on Quiberon and the invadingEnglish; thou, 'covered if not with glory yet with meal!' Fortune wasever accounted inconstant: and each dog has but his day. Forlorn enough languished Duke d'Aiguillon, some years ago; covered, as we said, with meal; nay with worse. For La Chalotais, the BretonParlementeer, accused him not only of poltroonery and tyranny, but evenof concussion (official plunder of money); which accusations it waseasier to get 'quashed' by backstairs Influences than to get answered:neither could the thoughts, or even the tongues, of men be tied. Thus, under disastrous eclipse, had this grand-nephew of the great Richelieuto glide about; unworshipped by the world; resolute Choiseul, the abruptproud man, disdaining him, or even forgetting him. Little prospect butto glide into Gascony, to rebuild Chateaus there, (Arthur Young, Travelsduring the years 1787-88-89 (Bury St. Edmunds, 1792), i. 44. ) and dieinglorious killing game! However, in the year 1770, a certain youngsoldier, Dumouriez by name, returning from Corsica, could see 'withsorrow, at Compiegne, the old King of France, on foot, with doffed hat, in sight of his army, at the side of a magnificent phaeton, doing homagethe--Dubarry. ' (La Vie et les Memoires du General Dumouriez (Paris, 1822), i. 141. ) Much lay therein! Thereby, for one thing, could D'Aiguillon postponethe rebuilding of his Chateau, and rebuild his fortunes first. For stoutChoiseul would discern in the Dubarry nothing but a wonderfully dizenedScarlet-woman; and go on his way as if she were not. Intolerable: thesource of sighs, tears, of pettings and pouting; which would not endtill 'France' (La France, as she named her royal valet) finally musteredheart to see Choiseul; and with that 'quivering in the chin (tremblementdu menton natural in such cases) (Besenval, Memoires, ii. 21. ) falteredout a dismissal: dismissal of his last substantial man, but pacificationof his scarlet-woman. Thus D'Aiguillon rose again, and culminated. Andwith him there rose Maupeou, the banisher of Parlements; who plantsyou a refractory President 'at Croe in Combrailles on the top of steeprocks, inaccessible except by litters, ' there to consider himself. Likewise there rose Abbe Terray, dissolute Financier, paying eightpencein the shilling, --so that wits exclaim in some press at the playhouse, "Where is Abbe Terray, that he might reduce us to two-thirds!" And sohave these individuals (verily by black-art) built them a Domdaniel, or enchanted Dubarrydom; call it an Armida-Palace, where they dwellpleasantly; Chancellor Maupeou 'playing blind-man's-buff' withthe scarlet Enchantress; or gallantly presenting her with dwarfNegroes;--and a Most Christian King has unspeakable peace within doors, whatever he may have without. "My Chancellor is a scoundrel; but Icannot do without him. " (Dulaure, Histoire de Paris (Paris, 1824), vii. 328. ) Beautiful Armida-Palace, where the inmates live enchanted lives;lapped in soft music of adulation; waited on by the splendours of theworld;--which nevertheless hangs wondrously as by a single hair. Shouldthe Most Christian King die; or even get seriously afraid of dying! For, alas, had not the fair haughty Chateauroux to fly, with wet cheeksand flaming heart, from that Fever-scene at Metz; driven forth by sourshavelings? She hardly returned, when fever and shavelings were bothswept into the background. Pompadour too, when Damiens wounded Royalty'slightly, under the fifth rib, ' and our drive to Trianon went offfutile, in shrieks and madly shaken torches, --had to pack, and be inreadiness: yet did not go, the wound not proving poisoned. For hisMajesty has religious faith; believes, at least in a Devil. And nowa third peril; and who knows what may be in it! For the Doctors lookgrave; ask privily, If his Majesty had not the small-pox long ago?--anddoubt it may have been a false kind. Yes, Maupeou, pucker those sinisterbrows of thine, and peer out on it with thy malign rat-eyes: it is aquestionable case. Sure only that man is mortal; that with the lifeof one mortal snaps irrevocably the wonderfulest talisman, and allDubarrydom rushes off, with tumult, into infinite Space; and ye, assubterranean Apparitions are wont, vanish utterly, --leaving only a smellof sulphur! These, and what holds of these may pray, --to Beelzebub, or whoever willhear them. But from the rest of France there comes, as was said, noprayer; or one of an opposite character, 'expressed openly in thestreets. ' Chateau or Hotel, were an enlightened Philosophism scrutinisesmany things, is not given to prayer: neither are Rossbach victories, Terray Finances, nor, say only 'sixty thousand Lettres de Cachet' (whichis Maupeou's share), persuasives towards that. O Henault! Prayers? Froma France smitten (by black-art) with plague after plague, and lying nowin shame and pain, with a Harlot's foot on its neck, what prayer cancome? Those lank scarecrows, that prowl hunger-stricken through allhighways and byways of French Existence, will they pray? The dullmillions that, in the workshop or furrowfield, grind fore-done at thewheel of Labour, like haltered gin-horses, if blind so much the quieter?Or they that in the Bicetre Hospital, 'eight to a bed, ' lie waitingtheir manumission? Dim are those heads of theirs, dull stagnant thosehearts: to them the great Sovereign is known mainly as the greatRegrater of Bread. If they hear of his sickness, they will answer with adull Tant pis pour lui; or with the question, Will he die? Yes, will he die? that is now, for all France, the grand question, andhope; whereby alone the King's sickness has still some interest. Chapter 1. 1. II. Realised Ideals. Such a changed France have we; and a changed Louis. Changed, truly; andfurther than thou yet seest!--To the eye of History many things, inthat sick-room of Louis, are now visible, which to the Courtiers therepresent were invisible. For indeed it is well said, 'in every objectthere is inexhaustible meaning; the eye sees in it what the eyebrings means of seeing. ' To Newton and to Newton's Dog Diamond, what adifferent pair of Universes; while the painting on the optical retina ofboth was, most likely, the same! Let the Reader here, in this sick-roomof Louis, endeavour to look with the mind too. Time was when men could (so to speak) of a given man, by nourishing anddecorating him with fit appliances, to the due pitch, make themselvesa King, almost as the Bees do; and what was still more to the purpose, loyally obey him when made. The man so nourished and decorated, thenceforth named royal, does verily bear rule; and is said, and eventhought, to be, for example, 'prosecuting conquests in Flanders, ' whenhe lets himself like luggage be carried thither: and no light luggage;covering miles of road. For he has his unblushing Chateauroux, with herband-boxes and rouge-pots, at his side; so that, at every new station, a wooden gallery must be run up between their lodgings. He has not onlyhis Maison-Bouche, and Valetaille without end, but his very Troopof Players, with their pasteboard coulisses, thunder-barrels, theirkettles, fiddles, stage-wardrobes, portable larders (and chafferingand quarrelling enough); all mounted in wagons, tumbrils, second-handchaises, --sufficient not to conquer Flanders, but the patience of theworld. With such a flood of loud jingling appurtenances does he lumberalong, prosecuting his conquests in Flanders; wonderful to behold. Sonevertheless it was and had been: to some solitary thinker it might seemstrange; but even to him inevitable, not unnatural. For ours is a most fictile world; and man is the most fingent plasticof creatures. A world not fixable; not fathomable! An unfathomableSomewhat, which is Not we; which we can work with, and live amidst, --andmodel, miraculously in our miraculous Being, and name World. --But if thevery Rocks and Rivers (as Metaphysic teaches) are, in strict language, made by those outward Senses of ours, how much more, by the InwardSense, are all Phenomena of the spiritual kind: Dignities, Authorities, Holies, Unholies! Which inward sense, moreover is not permanent likethe outward ones, but forever growing and changing. Does not the BlackAfrican take of Sticks and Old Clothes (say, exported Monmouth-Streetcast-clothes) what will suffice, and of these, cunningly combining them, fabricate for himself an Eidolon (Idol, or Thing Seen), and name itMumbo-Jumbo; which he can thenceforth pray to, with upturned awestruckeye, not without hope? The white European mocks; but ought rather toconsider; and see whether he, at home, could not do the like a littlemore wisely. So it was, we say, in those conquests of Flanders, thirty years ago: butso it no longer is. Alas, much more lies sick than poor Louis: not theFrench King only, but the French Kingship; this too, after long roughtear and wear, is breaking down. The world is all so changed; somuch that seemed vigorous has sunk decrepit, so much that was not isbeginning to be!--Borne over the Atlantic, to the closing ear of Louis, King by the Grace of God, what sounds are these; muffled ominous, newin our centuries? Boston Harbour is black with unexpected Tea: behold aPennsylvanian Congress gather; and ere long, on Bunker Hill, DEMOCRACYannouncing, in rifle-volleys death-winged, under her Star Banner, to thetune of Yankee-doodle-doo, that she is born, and, whirlwind-like, willenvelope the whole world! Sovereigns die and Sovereignties: how all dies, and is for a Time only;is a 'Time-phantasm, yet reckons itself real!' The Merovingian Kings, slowly wending on their bullock-carts through the streets of Paris, with their long hair flowing, have all wended slowly on, --into Eternity. Charlemagne sleeps at Salzburg, with truncheon grounded; only Fableexpecting that he will awaken. Charles the Hammer, Pepin Bow-legged, where now is their eye of menace, their voice of command? Rollo and hisshaggy Northmen cover not the Seine with ships; but have sailed off ona longer voyage. The hair of Towhead (Tete d'etoupes) now needs nocombing; Iron-cutter (Taillefer) cannot cut a cobweb; shrill Fredegonda, shrill Brunhilda have had out their hot life-scold, and lie silent, their hot life-frenzy cooled. Neither from that black Tower de Nesledescends now darkling the doomed gallant, in his sack, to the Seinewaters; plunging into Night: for Dame de Nesle how cares not for thisworld's gallantry, heeds not this world's scandal; Dame de Nesle isherself gone into Night. They are all gone; sunk, --down, down, withthe tumult they made; and the rolling and the trampling of ever newgenerations passes over them, and they hear it not any more forever. And yet withal has there not been realised somewhat? Consider (to go nofurther) these strong Stone-edifices, and what they hold! Mud-Town ofthe Borderers (Lutetia Parisiorum or Barisiorum) has paved itself, hasspread over all the Seine Islands, and far and wide on each bank, andbecome City of Paris, sometimes boasting to be 'Athens of Europe, ' andeven 'Capital of the Universe. ' Stone towers frown aloft; long-lasting, grim with a thousand years. Cathedrals are there, and a Creed (ormemory of a Creed) in them; Palaces, and a State and Law. Thou seestthe Smoke-vapour; unextinguished Breath as of a thing living. Labour'sthousand hammers ring on her anvils: also a more miraculous Labour worksnoiselessly, not with the Hand but with the Thought. How have cunningworkmen in all crafts, with their cunning head and right-hand, tamedthe Four Elements to be their ministers; yoking the winds to theirSea-chariot, making the very Stars their Nautical Timepiece;--andwritten and collected a Bibliotheque du Roi; among whose Books is theHebrew Book! A wondrous race of creatures: these have been realised, andwhat of Skill is in these: call not the Past Time, with all its confusedwretchednesses, a lost one. Observe, however, that of man's whole terrestrial possessions andattainments, unspeakably the noblest are his Symbols, divine ordivine-seeming; under which he marches and fights, with victoriousassurance, in this life-battle: what we can call his Realised Ideals. Ofwhich realised ideals, omitting the rest, consider only these two:his Church, or spiritual Guidance; his Kingship, or temporal one. TheChurch: what a word was there; richer than Golconda and the treasures ofthe world! In the heart of the remotest mountains rises the little Kirk;the Dead all slumbering round it, under their white memorial-stones, 'inhope of a happy resurrection:'--dull wert thou, O Reader, if never inany hour (say of moaning midnight, when such Kirk hung spectral inthe sky, and Being was as if swallowed up of Darkness) it spoke tothee--things unspeakable, that went into thy soul's soul. Strong was hethat had a Church, what we can call a Church: he stood thereby, though'in the centre of Immensities, in the conflux of Eternities, ' yetmanlike towards God and man; the vague shoreless Universe had become forhim a firm city, and dwelling which he knew. Such virtue was in Belief;in these words, well spoken: I believe. Well might men prize theirCredo, and raise stateliest Temples for it, and reverend Hierarchies, and give it the tithe of their substance; it was worth living for anddying for. Neither was that an inconsiderable moment when wild armed men firstraised their Strongest aloft on the buckler-throne, and with clangingarmour and hearts, said solemnly: Be thou our Acknowledged Strongest! Insuch Acknowledged Strongest (well named King, Kon-ning, Can-ning, or Manthat was Able) what a Symbol shone now for them, --significant with thedestinies of the world! A Symbol of true Guidance in return for lovingObedience; properly, if he knew it, the prime want of man. A Symbolwhich might be called sacred; for is there not, in reverence for what isbetter than we, an indestructible sacredness? On which ground, too, itwas well said there lay in the Acknowledged Strongest a divine right;as surely there might in the Strongest, whether Acknowledged ornot, --considering who made him strong. And so, in the midst ofconfusions and unutterable incongruities (as all growth is confused), did this of Royalty, with Loyalty environing it, spring up; and growmysteriously, subduing and assimilating (for a principle of Life was init); till it also had grown world-great, and was among the main Facts ofour modern existence. Such a Fact, that Louis XIV. , for example, couldanswer the expostulatory Magistrate with his "L'Etat c'est moi (TheState? I am the State);" and be replied to by silence and abashed looks. So far had accident and forethought; had your Louis Elevenths, withthe leaden Virgin in their hatband, and torture-wheels and conicaloubliettes (man-eating!) under their feet; your Henri Fourths, withtheir prophesied social millennium, 'when every peasant should have hisfowl in the pot;' and on the whole, the fertility of this most fertileExistence (named of Good and Evil), --brought it, in the matter of theKingship. Wondrous! Concerning which may we not again say, that inthe huge mass of Evil, as it rolls and swells, there is ever some Goodworking imprisoned; working towards deliverance and triumph? How such Ideals do realise themselves; and grow, wondrously, from amidthe incongruous ever-fluctuating chaos of the Actual: this is whatWorld-History, if it teach any thing, has to teach us, How they grow;and, after long stormy growth, bloom out mature, supreme; then quickly(for the blossom is brief) fall into decay; sorrowfully dwindle; andcrumble down, or rush down, noisily or noiselessly disappearing. Theblossom is so brief; as of some centennial Cactus-flower, which aftera century of waiting shines out for hours! Thus from the day when roughClovis, in the Champ de Mars, in sight of his whole army, had to cleaveretributively the head of that rough Frank, with sudden battleaxe, andthe fierce words, "It was thus thou clavest the vase" (St. Remi's andmine) "at Soissons, " forward to Louis the Grand and his L'Etat c'estmoi, we count some twelve hundred years: and now this the verynext Louis is dying, and so much dying with him!--Nay, thus too, ifCatholicism, with and against Feudalism (but not against Nature andher bounty), gave us English a Shakspeare and Era of Shakspeare, and soproduced a blossom of Catholicism--it was not till Catholicism itself, so far as Law could abolish it, had been abolished here. But of those decadent ages in which no Ideal either grows or blossoms?When Belief and Loyalty have passed away, and only the cant and falseecho of them remains; and all Solemnity has become Pageantry; andthe Creed of persons in authority has become one of two things: anImbecility or a Macchiavelism? Alas, of these ages World-History cantake no notice; they have to become compressed more and more, and finally suppressed in the Annals of Mankind; blotted out asspurious, --which indeed they are. Hapless ages: wherein, if ever in any, it is an unhappiness to be born. To be born, and to learn only, by everytradition and example, that God's Universe is Belial's and a Lie; and'the Supreme Quack' the hierarch of men! In which mournfulest faith, nevertheless, do we not see whole generations (two, and sometimes eventhree successively) live, what they call living; and vanish, --withoutchance of reappearance? In such a decadent age, or one fast verging that way, had our poor Louisbeen born. Grant also that if the French Kingship had not, by course ofNature, long to live, he of all men was the man to accelerate Nature. The Blossom of French Royalty, cactus-like, has accordingly made anastonishing progress. In those Metz days, it was still standing with allits petals, though bedimmed by Orleans Regents and Roue Ministers andCardinals; but now, in 1774, we behold it bald, and the virtue nigh goneout of it. Disastrous indeed does it look with those same 'realised ideals, ' oneand all! The Church, which in its palmy season, seven hundred years ago, could make an Emperor wait barefoot, in penance-shift; three days, inthe snow, has for centuries seen itself decaying; reduced even to forgetold purposes and enmities, and join interest with the Kingship: on thisyounger strength it would fain stay its decrepitude; and these two willhenceforth stand and fall together. Alas, the Sorbonne still sits there, in its old mansion; but mumbles only jargon of dotage, and no longerleads the consciences of men: not the Sorbonne; it is Encyclopedies, Philosophie, and who knows what nameless innumerable multitude ofready Writers, profane Singers, Romancers, Players, Disputators, andPamphleteers, that now form the Spiritual Guidance of the world. Theworld's Practical Guidance too is lost, or has glided into the samemiscellaneous hands. Who is it that the King (Able-man, named also Roi, Rex, or Director) now guides? His own huntsmen and prickers: when thereis to be no hunt, it is well said, 'Le Roi ne fera rien (To-dayhis Majesty will do nothing). (Memoires sur la Vie privee de MarieAntoinette, par Madame Campan (Paris, 1826), i. 12). He lives andlingers there, because he is living there, and none has yet laid handson him. The nobles, in like manner, have nearly ceased either to guide ormisguide; and are now, as their master is, little more than ornamentalfigures. It is long since they have done with butchering one another ortheir king: the Workers, protected, encouraged by Majesty, have ages agobuilt walled towns, and there ply their crafts; will permit no RobberBaron to 'live by the saddle, ' but maintain a gallows to prevent it. Ever since that period of the Fronde, the Noble has changed hisfighting sword into a court rapier, and now loyally attends his kingas ministering satellite; divides the spoil, not now by violenceand murder, but by soliciting and finesse. These men call themselvessupports of the throne, singular gilt-pasteboard caryatides in thatsingular edifice! For the rest, their privileges every way are now muchcurtailed. That law authorizing a Seigneur, as he returned from hunting, to kill not more than two Serfs, and refresh his feet in their warmblood and bowels, has fallen into perfect desuetude, --and even intoincredibility; for if Deputy Lapoule can believe in it, and call for theabrogation of it, so cannot we. (Histoire de la Revolution Francaise, par Deux Amis de la Liberte (Paris, 1793), ii. 212. ) No Charolois, forthese last fifty years, though never so fond of shooting, has been inuse to bring down slaters and plumbers, and see them roll from theirroofs; (Lacretelle, Histoire de France pendant le 18me Siecle (Paris, 1819) i. 271. ) but contents himself with partridges and grouse. Close-viewed, their industry and function is that of dressing gracefullyand eating sumptuously. As for their debauchery and depravity, it isperhaps unexampled since the era of Tiberius and Commodus. Nevertheless, one has still partly a feeling with the lady Marechale: "Depend upon it, Sir, God thinks twice before damning a man of that quality. " (Dulaure, vii. 261. ) These people, of old, surely had virtues, uses; or they couldnot have been there. Nay, one virtue they are still required to have(for mortal man cannot live without a conscience): the virtue of perfectreadiness to fight duels. Such are the shepherds of the people: and now how fares it with theflock? With the flock, as is inevitable, it fares ill, and ever worse. They are not tended, they are only regularly shorn. They are sent for, to do statute-labour, to pay statute-taxes; to fatten battle-fields(named 'Bed of honour') with their bodies, in quarrels which are nottheirs; their hand and toil is in every possession of man; but forthemselves they have little or no possession. Untaught, uncomforted, unfed; to pine dully in thick obscuration, in squalid destitutionand obstruction: this is the lot of the millions; peuple taillable etcorveable a merci et misericorde. In Brittany they once rose in revoltat the first introduction of Pendulum Clocks; thinking it had somethingto do with the Gabelle. Paris requires to be cleared out periodicallyby the Police; and the horde of hunger-stricken vagabonds to be sentwandering again over space--for a time. 'During one such periodicalclearance, ' says Lacretelle, 'in May, 1750, the Police had presumedwithal to carry off some reputable people's children, in the hope ofextorting ransoms for them. The mothers fill the public placeswith cries of despair; crowds gather, get excited: so many women indestraction run about exaggerating the alarm: an absurd and horrid fablearises among the people; it is said that the doctors have ordered aGreat Person to take baths of young human blood for the restorationof his own, all spoiled by debaucheries. Some of the rioters, ' addsLacretelle, quite coolly, 'were hanged on the following days:' thePolice went on. (Lacretelle, iii. 175. ) O ye poor naked wretches! andthis, then, is your inarticulate cry to Heaven, as of a dumb torturedanimal, crying from uttermost depths of pain and debasement? Do theseazure skies, like a dead crystalline vault, only reverberate the echo ofit on you? Respond to it only by 'hanging on the following days?'--Notso: not forever! Ye are heard in Heaven. And the answer too willcome, --in a horror of great darkness, and shakings of the world, and acup of trembling which all the nations shall drink. Remark, meanwhile, how from amid the wrecks and dust of this universalDecay new Powers are fashioning themselves, adapted to the new time andits destinies. Besides the old Noblesse, originally of Fighters, thereis a new recognised Noblesse of Lawyers; whose gala-day and proudbattle-day even now is. An unrecognised Noblesse of Commerce; powerfulenough, with money in its pocket. Lastly, powerfulest of all, leastrecognised of all, a Noblesse of Literature; without steel on theirthigh, without gold in their purse, but with the 'grand thaumaturgicfaculty of Thought' in their head. French Philosophism has arisen; inwhich little word how much do we include! Here, indeed, lies properlythe cardinal symptom of the whole wide-spread malady. Faith is gone out;Scepticism is come in. Evil abounds and accumulates: no man has Faith towithstand it, to amend it, to begin by amending himself; it must evengo on accumulating. While hollow langour and vacuity is the lot of theUpper, and want and stagnation of the Lower, and universal miseryis very certain, what other thing is certain? That a Lie cannot bebelieved! Philosophism knows only this: her other belief is mainly that, in spiritual supersensual matters no Belief is possible. Unhappy! Nay, as yet the Contradiction of a Lie is some kind of Belief; but the Liewith its Contradiction once swept away, what will remain? The fiveunsatiated Senses will remain, the sixth insatiable Sense (of vanity);the whole daemonic nature of man will remain, --hurled forth to rageblindly without rule or rein; savage itself, yet with all the tools andweapons of civilisation; a spectacle new in History. In such a France, as in a Powder-tower, where fire unquenched and nowunquenchable is smoking and smouldering all round, has Louis XV. Laindown to die. With Pompadourism and Dubarryism, his Fleur-de-lis has beenshamefully struck down in all lands and on all seas; Poverty invadeseven the Royal Exchequer, and Tax-farming can squeeze out no more;there is a quarrel of twenty-five years' standing with the Parlement;everywhere Want, Dishonesty, Unbelief, and hotbrained Sciolists forstate-physicians: it is a portentous hour. Such things can the eye of History see in this sick-room of King Louis, which were invisible to the Courtiers there. It is twenty years, goneChristmas-day, since Lord Chesterfield, summing up what he had noted ofthis same France, wrote, and sent off by post, the following words, thathave become memorable: 'In short, all the symptoms which I have evermet with in History, previous to great Changes and Revolutions ingovernment, now exist and daily increase in France. ' (Chesterfield'sLetters: December 25th, 1753. ) Chapter 1. 1. III. Viaticum. For the present, however, the grand question with the Governors ofFrance is: Shall extreme unction, or other ghostly viaticum (to Louis, not to France), be administered? It is a deep question. For, if administered, if so much as spoken of, must not, on the very threshold of the business, Witch Dubarry vanish;hardly to return should Louis even recover? With her vanishes Duked'Aiguillon and Company, and all their Armida-Palace, as was said;Chaos swallows the whole again, and there is left nothing but a smellof brimstone. But then, on the other hand, what will the Dauphinists andChoiseulists say? Nay what may the royal martyr himself say, should hehappen to get deadly worse, without getting delirious? For the present, he still kisses the Dubarry hand; so we, from the ante-room, can note:but afterwards? Doctors' bulletins may run as they are ordered, butit is 'confluent small-pox, '--of which, as is whispered too, theGatekeepers's once so buxom Daughter lies ill: and Louis XV. Is not aman to be trifled with in his viaticum. Was he not wont to catechise hisvery girls in the Parc-aux-cerfs, and pray with and for them, that theymight preserve their--orthodoxy? (Dulaure, viii. (217), Besenval, &c. )A strange fact, not an unexampled one; for there is no animal so strangeas man. For the moment, indeed, it were all well, could Archbishop Beaumont butbe prevailed upon--to wink with one eye! Alas, Beaumont would himself sofain do it: for, singular to tell, the Church too, and whole posthumoushope of Jesuitism, now hangs by the apron of this same unmentionablewoman. But then 'the force of public opinion'? Rigorous Christophe deBeaumont, who has spent his life in persecuting hysterical Jansenistsand incredulous Non-confessors; or even their dead bodies, if no bettermight be, --how shall he now open Heaven's gate, and give Absolution withthe corpus delicti still under his nose? Our Grand-Almoner Roche-Aymon, for his part, will not higgle with a royal sinner about turning of thekey: but there are other Churchmen; there is a King's Confessor, foolishAbbe Moudon; and Fanaticism and Decency are not yet extinct. On thewhole, what is to be done? The doors can be well watched; the MedicalBulletin adjusted; and much, as usual, be hoped for from time andchance. The doors are well watched, no improper figure can enter. Indeed, few wish to enter; for the putrid infection reaches even to theOeil-de-Boeuf; so that 'more than fifty fall sick, and ten die. 'Mesdames the Princesses alone wait at the loathsome sick-bed; impelledby filial piety. The three Princesses, Graille, Chiffe, Coche (Rag, Snip, Pig, as he was wont to name them), are assiduous there; when allhave fled. The fourth Princess Loque (Dud), as we guess, is already inthe Nunnery, and can only give her orisons. Poor Graille and Sisterhood, they have never known a Father: such is the hard bargain Grandeur mustmake. Scarcely at the Debotter (when Royalty took off its boots) couldthey snatch up their 'enormous hoops, gird the long train round theirwaists, huddle on their black cloaks of taffeta up to the very chin;'and so, in fit appearance of full dress, 'every evening at six, ' walkmajestically in; receive their royal kiss on the brow; and then walkmajestically out again, to embroidery, small-scandal, prayers, andvacancy. If Majesty came some morning, with coffee of its own making, and swallowed it with them hastily while the dogs were uncoupling forthe hunt, it was received as a grace of Heaven. (Campan, i. 11-36. ) Poorwithered ancient women! in the wild tossings that yet await your fragileexistence, before it be crushed and broken; as ye fly through hostilecountries, over tempestuous seas, are almost taken by the Turks; andwholly, in the Sansculottic Earthquake, know not your right hand fromyour left, be this always an assured place in your remembrance: for theact was good and loving! To us also it is a little sunny spot, in thatdismal howling waste, where we hardly find another. Meanwhile, what shall an impartial prudent Courtier do? In thesedelicate circumstances, while not only death or life, but even sacramentor no sacrament, is a question, the skilfulest may falter. Few are sohappy as the Duke d'Orleans and the Prince de Conde; who can themselves, with volatile salts, attend the King's ante-chamber; and, at the sametime, send their brave sons (Duke de Chartres, Egalite that is to be;Duke de Bourbon, one day Conde too, and famous among Dotards) to waitupon the Dauphin. With another few, it is a resolution taken; jacta estalea. Old Richelieu, --when Beaumont, driven by public opinion, is atlast for entering the sick-room, --will twitch him by the rochet, into arecess; and there, with his old dissipated mastiff-face, and the oiliestvehemence, be seen pleading (and even, as we judge by Beaumont's changeof colour, prevailing) 'that the King be not killed by a propositionin Divinity. ' Duke de Fronsac, son of Richelieu, can follow his father:when the Cure of Versailles whimpers something about sacraments, he willthreaten to 'throw him out of the window if he mention such a thing. ' Happy these, we may say; but to the rest that hover between twoopinions, is it not trying? He who would understand to what a passCatholicism, and much else, had now got; and how the symbols ofthe Holiest have become gambling-dice of the Basest, --must read thenarrative of those things by Besenval, and Soulavie, and the other CourtNewsmen of the time. He will see the Versailles Galaxy all scatteredasunder, grouped into new ever-shifting Constellations. There are nodsand sagacious glances; go-betweens, silk dowagers mysteriously gliding, with smiles for this constellation, sighs for that: there is tremor, of hope or desperation, in several hearts. There is the pale grinningShadow of Death, ceremoniously ushered along by another grinning Shadow, of Etiquette: at intervals the growl of Chapel Organs, like prayer bymachinery; proclaiming, as in a kind of horrid diabolic horse-laughter, Vanity of vanities, all is Vanity! Chapter 1. 1. IV. Louis the Unforgotten. Poor Louis! With these it is a hollow phantasmagory, where like mimesthey mope and mowl, and utter false sounds for hire; but with thee it isfrightful earnest. Frightful to all men is Death; from of old named King of Terrors. Ourlittle compact home of an Existence, where we dwelt complaining, yet asin a home, is passing, in dark agonies, into an Unknown of Separation, Foreignness, unconditioned Possibility. The Heathen Emperor asks of hissoul: Into what places art thou now departing? The Catholic Kingmust answer: To the Judgment-bar of the Most High God! Yes, it is asumming-up of Life; a final settling, and giving-in the 'account of thedeeds done in the body:' they are done now; and lie there unalterable, and do bear their fruits, long as Eternity shall last. Louis XV. Had always the kingliest abhorrence of Death. Unlike thatpraying Duke of Orleans, Egalite's grandfather, --for indeed several ofthem had a touch of madness, --who honesty believed that there was noDeath! He, if the Court Newsmen can be believed, started up once ona time, glowing with sulphurous contempt and indignation on his poorSecretary, who had stumbled on the words, feu roi d'Espagne (the lateKing of Spain): "Feu roi, Monsieur?"--"Monseigneur, " hastily answeredthe trembling but adroit man of business, "c'est une titre qu'ilsprennent ('tis a title they take). " (Besenval, i. 199. ) Louis, we say, was not so happy; but he did what he could. He would not suffer Death tobe spoken of; avoided the sight of churchyards, funereal monuments, andwhatsoever could bring it to mind. It is the resource of the Ostrich;who, hard hunted, sticks his foolish head in the ground, and would fainforget that his foolish unseeing body is not unseen too. Or sometimes, with a spasmodic antagonism, significant of the same thing, and ofmore, he would go; or stopping his court carriages, would send intochurchyards, and ask 'how many new graves there were today, ' though itgave his poor Pompadour the disagreeablest qualms. We can figure thethought of Louis that day, when, all royally caparisoned for hunting, hemet, at some sudden turning in the Wood of Senart, a ragged Peasant witha coffin: "For whom?"--It was for a poor brother slave, whom Majesty hadsometimes noticed slaving in those quarters. "What did he die of?"--"Ofhunger:"--the King gave his steed the spur. (Campan, iii. 39. ) But figure his thought, when Death is now clutching at his ownheart-strings, unlooked for, inexorable! Yes, poor Louis, Death hasfound thee. No palace walls or life-guards, gorgeous tapestries or giltbuckram of stiffest ceremonial could keep him out; but he is here, here at thy very life-breath, and will extinguish it. Thou, whose wholeexistence hitherto was a chimera and scenic show, at length becomest areality: sumptuous Versailles bursts asunder, like a dream, into voidImmensity; Time is done, and all the scaffolding of Time falls wreckedwith hideous clangour round thy soul: the pale Kingdoms yawn open; theremust thou enter, naked, all unking'd, and await what is appointedthee! Unhappy man, there as thou turnest, in dull agony, on thy bed ofweariness, what a thought is thine! Purgatory and Hell-fire, now all-toopossible, in the prospect; in the retrospect, --alas, what thing didstthou do that were not better undone; what mortal didst thou generouslyhelp; what sorrow hadst thou mercy on? Do the 'five hundred thousand'ghosts, who sank shamefully on so many battle-fields from Rossbach toQuebec, that thy Harlot might take revenge for an epigram, --crowd roundthee in this hour? Thy foul Harem; the curses of mothers, the tearsand infamy of daughters? Miserable man! thou 'hast done evil as thoucouldst:' thy whole existence seems one hideous abortion and mistake ofNature; the use and meaning of thee not yet known. Wert thou a fabulousGriffin, devouring the works of men; daily dragging virgins to thycave;--clad also in scales that no spear would pierce: no spear butDeath's? A Griffin not fabulous but real! Frightful, O Louis, seem thesemoments for thee. --We will pry no further into the horrors of a sinner'sdeath-bed. And yet let no meanest man lay flattering unction to his soul. Louis wasa Ruler; but art not thou also one? His wide France, look at it from theFixed Stars (themselves not yet Infinitude), is no wider than thy narrowbrickfield, where thou too didst faithfully, or didst unfaithfully. Man, 'Symbol of Eternity imprisoned into 'Time!' it is not thy works, whichare all mortal, infinitely little, and the greatest no greater thanthe least, but only the Spirit thou workest in, that can have worth orcontinuance. But reflect, in any case, what a life-problem this of poor Louis, whenhe rose as Bien-Aime from that Metz sick-bed, really was! What sonof Adam could have swayed such incoherences into coherence? Could he?Blindest Fortune alone has cast him on the top of it: he swimsthere; can as little sway it as the drift-log sways the wind-tossedmoon-stirred Atlantic. "What have I done to be so loved?" he said then. He may say now: What have I done to be so hated? Thou hast done nothing, poor Louis! Thy fault is properly even this, that thou didst nothing. What could poor Louis do? Abdicate, and wash his hands of it, --in favourof the first that would accept! Other clear wisdom there was none forhim. As it was, he stood gazing dubiously, the absurdest mortal extant(a very Solecism Incarnate), into the absurdest confused world;--whereinat lost nothing seemed so certain as that he, the incarnate Solecism, had five senses; that were Flying Tables (Tables Volantes, which vanishthrough the floor, to come back reloaded). And a Parc-aux-cerfs. Whereby at least we have again this historical curiosity: a humanbeing in an original position; swimming passively, as on some boundless'Mother of Dead Dogs, ' towards issues which he partly saw. For Louis hadwithal a kind of insight in him. So, when a new Minister of Marine, orwhat else it might be, came announcing his new era, the Scarlet-womanwould hear from the lips of Majesty at supper: "He laid out his warelike another; promised the beautifulest things in the world; not athing of which will come: he does not know this region; he will see. " Oragain: "'Tis the twentieth time I hear all that; France will never geta Navy, I believe. " How touching also was this: "If I were Lieutenant ofPolice, I would prohibit those Paris cabriolets. " (Journal de Madame deHausset, p. 293, &c. ) Doomed mortal;--for is it not a doom to be Solecism incarnate! A newRoi Faineant, King Donothing; but with the strangest new Mayor ofthe Palace: no bow-legged Pepin now, but that same cloud-capt, fire-breathing Spectre of DEMOCRACY; incalculable, which is envelopingthe world!--Was Louis no wickeder than this or the other privateDonothing and Eatall; such as we often enough see, under the name ofMan, and even Man of Pleasure, cumbering God's diligent Creation, fora time? Say, wretcheder! His Life-solecism was seen and felt of a wholescandalised world; him endless Oblivion cannot engulf, and swallow toendless depths, --not yet for a generation or two. However, be this as it will, we remark, not without interest, that 'onthe evening of the 4th, ' Dame Dubarry issues from the sick-room, withperceptible 'trouble in her visage. ' It is the fourth evening of May, year of Grace 1774. Such a whispering in the Oeil-de-Boeuf! Is he dyingthen? What can be said is, that Dubarry seems making up her packages;she sails weeping through her gilt boudoirs, as if taking leave. D'Aiguilon and Company are near their last card; nevertheless they willnot yet throw up the game. But as for the sacramental controversy, it isas good as settled without being mentioned; Louis can send for his AbbeMoudon in the course of next night, be confessed by him, some say forthe space of 'seventeen minutes, ' and demand the sacraments of his ownaccord. Nay, already, in the afternoon, behold is not this your SorceressDubarry with the handkerchief at her eyes, mounting D'Aiguillon'schariot; rolling off in his Duchess's consolatory arms? She is gone;and her place knows her no more. Vanish, false Sorceress; into Space!Needless to hover at neighbouring Ruel; for thy day is done. Shut arethe royal palace-gates for evermore; hardly in coming years shaltthou, under cloud of night, descend once, in black domino, like a blacknight-bird, and disturb the fair Antoinette's music-party in the Park:all Birds of Paradise flying from thee, and musical windpipes growingmute. (Campan, i. 197. ) Thou unclean, yet unmalignant, not unpitiablething! What a course was thine: from that first trucklebed (in Joan ofArc's country) where thy mother bore thee, with tears, to an unnamedfather: forward, through lowest subterranean depths, and over highestsunlit heights, of Harlotdom and Rascaldom--to the guillotine-axe, whichshears away thy vainly whimpering head! Rest there uncursed; only buriedand abolished: what else befitted thee? Louis, meanwhile, is in considerable impatience for his sacraments;sends more than once to the window, to see whether they are not coming. Be of comfort, Louis, what comfort thou canst: they are under way, those sacraments. Towards six in the morning, they arrive. CardinalGrand-Almoner Roche-Aymon is here, in pontificals, with his pyxes andhis tools; he approaches the royal pillow; elevates his wafer; muttersor seems to mutter somewhat;--and so (as the Abbe Georgel, in wordsthat stick to one, expresses it) has Louis 'made the amende honorable toGod;' so does your Jesuit construe it. --"Wa, Wa, " as the wild Clotairegroaned out, when life was departing, "what great God is this thatpulls down the strength of the strongest kings!" (Gregorius Turonensis, Histor. Lib. Iv. Cap. 21. ) The amende honorable, what 'legal apology' you will, to God:--but not, if D'Aiguillon can help it, to man. Dubarry still hovers in hismansion at Ruel; and while there is life, there is hope. Grand-AlmonerRoche-Aymon, accordingly (for he seems to be in the secret), hasno sooner seen his pyxes and gear repacked, then he is steppingmajestically forth again, as if the work were done! But King's ConfessorAbbe Moudon starts forward; with anxious acidulent face, twitches him bythe sleeve; whispers in his ear. Whereupon the poor Cardinal must turnround; and declare audibly; "That his Majesty repents of any subjects ofscandal he may have given (a pu donner); and purposes, by the strengthof Heaven assisting him, to avoid the like--for the future!" Wordslistened to by Richelieu with mastiff-face, growing blacker; answeredto, aloud, 'with an epithet, '--which Besenval will not repeat. OldRichelieu, conqueror of Minorca, companion of Flying-Table orgies, perforator of bedroom walls, (Besenval, i. 159-172. Genlis; Duc deLevis, &c. ) is thy day also done? Alas, the Chapel organs may keep going; the Shrine of Sainte Genevievebe let down, and pulled up again, --without effect. In the evening thewhole Court, with Dauphin and Dauphiness, assist at the Chapel: priestsare hoarse with chanting their 'Prayers of Forty Hours;' and the heavingbellows blow. Almost frightful! For the very heaven blackens; batteringrain-torrents dash, with thunder; almost drowning the organ's voice: andelectric fire-flashes make the very flambeaux on the altar pale. So thatthe most, as we are told, retired, when it was over, with hurried steps, 'in a state of meditation (recueillement), ' and said little or nothing. (Weber, Memoires concernant Marie-Antoinette (London, 1809), i. 22. ) So it has lasted for the better half of a fortnight; the Dubarry gonealmost a week. Besenval says, all the world was getting impatient quecela finit; that poor Louis would have done with it. It is now the 10thof May 1774. He will soon have done now. This tenth May day falls into the loathsome sick-bed; but dull, unnoticed there: for they that look out of the windows are quitedarkened; the cistern-wheel moves discordant on its axis; Life, like aspent steed, is panting towards the goal. In their remote apartments, Dauphin and Dauphiness stand road-ready; all grooms and equerries bootedand spurred: waiting for some signal to escape the house of pestilence. (One grudges to interfere with the beautiful theatrical 'candle, ' whichMadame Campan (i. 79) has lit on this occasion, and blown out at themoment of death. What candles might be lit or blown out, in so large anEstablishment as that of Versailles, no man at such distance would liketo affirm: at the same time, as it was two o'clock in a May Afternoon, and these royal Stables must have been some five or six hundred yardsfrom the royal sick-room, the 'candle' does threaten to go out in spiteof us. It remains burning indeed--in her fantasy; throwing light on muchin those Memoires of hers. ) And, hark! across the Oeil-de-Boeuf, whatsound is that; sound 'terrible and absolutely like thunder'? It isthe rush of the whole Court, rushing as in wager, to salute the newSovereigns: Hail to your Majesties! The Dauphin and Dauphiness are Kingand Queen! Over-powered with many emotions, they two fall on their kneestogether, and, with streaming tears, exclaim, "O God, guide us, protectus; we are too young to reign!"--Too young indeed. Thus, in any case, 'with a sound absolutely like thunder, ' has theHorologe of Time struck, and an old Era passed away. The Louis that was, lies forsaken, a mass of abhorred clay; abandoned 'to some poor persons, and priests of the Chapelle Ardente, '--who make haste to put him 'in twolead coffins, pouring in abundant spirits of wine. ' The new Louis withhis Court is rolling towards Choisy, through the summer afternoon: theroyal tears still flow; but a word mispronounced by Monseigneur d'Artoissets them all laughing, and they weep no more. Light mortals, how yewalk your light life-minuet, over bottomless abysses, divided from youby a film! For the rest, the proper authorities felt that no Funeral could be toounceremonious. Besenval himself thinks it was unceremonious enough. Twocarriages containing two noblemen of the usher species, and a Versaillesclerical person; some score of mounted pages, some fifty palfreniers;these, with torches, but not so much as in black, start from Versailleson the second evening with their leaden bier. At a high trot they start;and keep up that pace. For the jibes (brocards) of those Parisians, whostand planted in two rows, all the way to St. Denis, and 'give vent totheir pleasantry, the characteristic of the nation, ' do not tempt oneto slacken. Towards midnight the vaults of St. Denis receive theirown; unwept by any eye of all these; if not by poor Loque his neglectedDaughter's, whose Nunnery is hard by. Him they crush down, and huddle under-ground, in this impatient way; himand his era of sin and tyranny and shame; for behold a New Era is come;the future all the brighter that the past was base. BOOK 1. II. THE PAPER AGE Chapter 1. 2. I. Astraea Redux. A paradoxical philosopher, carrying to the uttermost length thataphorism of Montesquieu's, 'Happy the people whose annals are tiresome, 'has said, 'Happy the people whose annals are vacant. ' In which saying, mad as it looks, may there not still be found some grain of reason? Fortruly, as it has been written, 'Silence is divine, ' and of Heaven; soin all earthly things too there is a silence which is better than anyspeech. Consider it well, the Event, the thing which can be spoken ofand recorded, is it not, in all cases, some disruption, some solution ofcontinuity? Were it even a glad Event, it involves change, involves loss(of active Force); and so far, either in the past or in the present, isan irregularity, a disease. Stillest perseverance were our blessedness;not dislocation and alteration, --could they be avoided. The oak grows silently, in the forest, a thousand years; only in thethousandth year, when the woodman arrives with his axe, is there heardan echoing through the solitudes; and the oak announces itself when, with a far-sounding crash, it falls. How silent too was the planting ofthe acorn; scattered from the lap of some wandering wind! Nay, whenour oak flowered, or put on its leaves (its glad Events), what shout ofproclamation could there be? Hardly from the most observant a word ofrecognition. These things befell not, they were slowly done; not in anhour, but through the flight of days: what was to be said of it? Thishour seemed altogether as the last was, as the next would be. It is thus everywhere that foolish Rumour babbles not of what was done, but of what was misdone or undone; and foolish History (ever, more orless, the written epitomised synopsis of Rumour) knows so littlethat were not as well unknown. Attila Invasions, Walter-the-PennilessCrusades, Sicilian Vespers, Thirty-Years Wars: mere sin and misery; notwork, but hindrance of work! For the Earth, all this while, was yearlygreen and yellow with her kind harvests; the hand of the craftsman, themind of the thinker rested not: and so, after all, and in spite of all, we have this so glorious high-domed blossoming World; concerning which, poor History may well ask, with wonder, Whence it came? She knows solittle of it, knows so much of what obstructed it, what would haverendered it impossible. Such, nevertheless, by necessity or foolishchoice, is her rule and practice; whereby that paradox, 'Happy thepeople whose annals are vacant, ' is not without its true side. And yet, what seems more pertinent to note here, there is a stillness, not of unobstructed growth, but of passive inertness, and symptom ofimminent downfall. As victory is silent, so is defeat. Of the opposingforces the weaker has resigned itself; the stronger marches on, noiseless now, but rapid, inevitable: the fall and overturn will not benoiseless. How all grows, and has its period, even as the herbs of thefields, be it annual, centennial, millennial! All grows and dies, eachby its own wondrous laws, in wondrous fashion of its own; spiritualthings most wondrously of all. Inscrutable, to the wisest, are theselatter; not to be prophesied of, or understood. If when the oak standsproudliest flourishing to the eye, you know that its heart is sound, itis not so with the man; how much less with the Society, with the Nationof men! Of such it may be affirmed even that the superficial aspect, that the inward feeling of full health, is generally ominous. For indeedit is of apoplexy, so to speak, and a plethoric lazy habit of body, thatChurches, Kingships, Social Institutions, oftenest die. Sad, when suchInstitution plethorically says to itself, Take thy ease, thou hast goodslaid up;--like the fool of the Gospel, to whom it was answered, Fool, this night thy life shall be required of thee! Is it the healthy peace, or the ominous unhealthy, that rests on France, for these next Ten Years? Over which the Historian can pass lightly, without call to linger: for as yet events are not, much lessperformances. Time of sunniest stillness;--shall we call it, what allmen thought it, the new Age of God? Call it at least, of Paper; whichin many ways is the succedaneum of Gold. Bank-paper, wherewith youcan still buy when there is no gold left; Book-paper, splendent withTheories, Philosophies, Sensibilities, --beautiful art, not only ofrevealing Thought, but also of so beautifully hiding from us the wantof Thought! Paper is made from the rags of things that did once exist;there are endless excellences in Paper. --What wisest Philosophe, in thishalcyon uneventful period, could prophesy that there was approaching, big with darkness and confusion, the event of events? Hope ushers in aRevolution, --as earthquakes are preceded by bright weather. On theFifth of May, fifteen years hence, old Louis will not be sending forthe Sacraments; but a new Louis, his grandson, with the whole pomp ofastonished intoxicated France, will be opening the States-General. Dubarrydom and its D'Aiguillons are gone forever. There is a young, still docile, well-intentioned King; a young, beautiful and bountiful, well-intentioned Queen; and with them all France, as it were, becomeyoung. Maupeou and his Parlement have to vanish into thick night;respectable Magistrates, not indifferent to the Nation, were it onlyfor having been opponents of the Court, can descend unchained from their'steep rocks at Croe in Combrailles' and elsewhere, and return singingpraises: the old Parlement of Paris resumes its functions. Instead of aprofligate bankrupt Abbe Terray, we have now, for Controller-General, avirtuous philosophic Turgot, with a whole Reformed France in hishead. By whom whatsoever is wrong, in Finance or otherwise, will berighted, --as far as possible. Is it not as if Wisdom herself werehenceforth to have seat and voice in the Council of Kings? Turgot hastaken office with the noblest plainness of speech to that effect; beenlistened to with the noblest royal trustfulness. (Turgot's Letter:Condorcet, Vie de Turgot (Oeuvres de Condorcet, t. V. ), p. 67. The dateis 24th August, 1774. ) It is true, as King Louis objects, "They say henever goes to mass;" but liberal France likes him little worse for that;liberal France answers, "The Abbe Terray always went. " Philosophismsees, for the first time, a Philosophe (or even a Philosopher) inoffice: she in all things will applausively second him; neither willlight old Maurepas obstruct, if he can easily help it. Then how 'sweet' are the manners; vice 'losing all its deformity;'becoming decent (as established things, making regulations forthemselves, do); becoming almost a kind of 'sweet' virtue! Intelligenceso abounds; irradiated by wit and the art of conversation. Philosophismsits joyful in her glittering saloons, the dinner-guest of Opulencegrown ingenuous, the very nobles proud to sit by her; and preaches, lifted up over all Bastilles, a coming millennium. From far Ferney, Patriarch Voltaire gives sign: veterans Diderot, D'Alembert havelived to see this day; these with their younger Marmontels, Morellets, Chamforts, Raynals, make glad the spicy board of rich ministeringDowager, of philosophic Farmer-General. O nights and suppers of thegods! Of a truth, the long-demonstrated will now be done: 'the Ageof Revolutions approaches' (as Jean Jacques wrote), but then of happyblessed ones. Man awakens from his long somnambulism; chases thePhantasms that beleagured and bewitched him. Behold the new morningglittering down the eastern steeps; fly, false Phantasms, from itsshafts of light; let the Absurd fly utterly forsaking this lowerEarth for ever. It is Truth and Astraea Redux that (in the shape ofPhilosophism) henceforth reign. For what imaginable purpose was manmade, if not to be 'happy'? By victorious Analysis, and Progress of theSpecies, happiness enough now awaits him. Kings can become philosophers;or else philosophers Kings. Let but Society be once rightlyconstituted, --by victorious Analysis. The stomach that is empty shall befilled; the throat that is dry shall be wetted with wine. Labour itselfshall be all one as rest; not grievous, but joyous. Wheatfields, onewould think, cannot come to grow untilled; no man made clayey, or madeweary thereby;--unless indeed machinery will do it? Gratuitous Tailorsand Restaurateurs may start up, at fit intervals, one as yet sees nothow. But if each will, according to rule of Benevolence, have a carefor all, then surely--no one will be uncared for. Nay, who knows but, by sufficiently victorious Analysis, 'human life may be indefinitelylengthened, ' and men get rid of Death, as they have already done ofthe Devil? We shall then be happy in spite of Death and the Devil. --Sopreaches magniloquent Philosophism her Redeunt Saturnia regna. The prophetic song of Paris and its Philosophes is audible enough inthe Versailles Oeil-de-Boeuf; and the Oeil-de-Boeuf, intent chiefly onnearer blessedness, can answer, at worst, with a polite "Why not?" Goodold cheery Maurepas is too joyful a Prime Minister to dash the world'sjoy. Sufficient for the day be its own evil. Cheery old man, he cuts hisjokes, and hovers careless along; his cloak well adjusted to the wind, if so be he may please all persons. The simple young King, whom aMaurepas cannot think of troubling with business, has retired into theinterior apartments; taciturn, irresolute; though with a sharpness oftemper at times: he, at length, determines on a little smithwork; andso, in apprenticeship with a Sieur Gamain (whom one day he shall havelittle cause to bless), is learning to make locks. (Campan, i. 125. )It appears further, he understood Geography; and could read English. Unhappy young King, his childlike trust in that foolish old Maurepasdeserved another return. But friend and foe, destiny and himself havecombined to do him hurt. Meanwhile the fair young Queen, in her halls of state, walks like agoddess of Beauty, the cynosure of all eyes; as yet mingles not withaffairs; heeds not the future; least of all, dreads it. Weber and Campan(Ib. I. 100-151. Weber, i. 11-50. ) have pictured her, there within theroyal tapestries, in bright boudoirs, baths, peignoirs, and the Grandand Little Toilette; with a whole brilliant world waiting obsequious onher glance: fair young daughter of Time, what things has Time in storefor thee! Like Earth's brightest Appearance, she moves gracefully, environed with the grandeur of Earth: a reality, and yet a magic vision;for, behold, shall not utter Darkness swallow it! The soft young heartadopts orphans, portions meritorious maids, delights to succour thepoor, --such poor as come picturesquely in her way; and sets the fashionof doing it; for as was said, Benevolence has now begun reigning. Inher Duchess de Polignac, in Princess de Lamballe, she enjoys somethingalmost like friendship; now too, after seven long years, she has achild, and soon even a Dauphin, of her own; can reckon herself, asQueens go, happy in a husband. Events? The Grand events are but charitable Feasts of Morals (Fetes desmoeurs), with their Prizes and Speeches; Poissarde Processions to theDauphin's cradle; above all, Flirtations, their rise, progress, declineand fall. There are Snow-statues raised by the poor in hard winter toa Queen who has given them fuel. There are masquerades, theatricals;beautifyings of little Trianon, purchase and repair of St. Cloud;journeyings from the summer Court-Elysium to the winter one. Thereare poutings and grudgings from the Sardinian Sisters-in-law (for thePrinces too are wedded); little jealousies, which Court-Etiquette canmoderate. Wholly the lightest-hearted frivolous foam of Existence; yetan artfully refined foam; pleasant were it not so costly, like thatwhich mantles on the wine of Champagne! Monsieur, the King's elder Brother, has set up for a kind of wit; andleans towards the Philosophe side. Monseigneur d'Artois pulls the maskfrom a fair impertinent; fights a duel in consequence, --almost drawingblood. (Besenval, ii. 282-330. ) He has breeches of a kind new in thisworld;--a fabulous kind; 'four tall lackeys, ' says Mercier, as if hehad seen it, 'hold him up in the air, that he may fall into the garmentwithout vestige of wrinkle; from which rigorous encasement the samefour, in the same way, and with more effort, must deliver him at night. '(Mercier, Nouveau Paris, iii. 147. ) This last is he who now, as a graytime-worn man, sits desolate at Gratz; (A. D. 1834. ) having winded uphis destiny with the Three Days. In such sort are poor mortals swept andshovelled to and fro. Chapter 1. 2. II. Petition in Hieroglyphs. With the working people, again it is not so well. Unlucky! For there aretwenty to twenty-five millions of them. Whom, however, we lump togetherinto a kind of dim compendious unity, monstrous but dim, far off, as thecanaille; or, more humanely, as 'the masses. ' Masses, indeed: and yet, singular to say, if, with an effort of imagination, thou follow them, over broad France, into their clay hovels, into their garrets andhutches, the masses consist all of units. Every unit of whom has his ownheart and sorrows; stands covered there with his own skin, and if youprick him he will bleed. O purple Sovereignty, Holiness, Reverence;thou, for example, Cardinal Grand-Almoner, with thy plush covering ofhonour, who hast thy hands strengthened with dignities and moneys, andart set on thy world watch-tower solemnly, in sight of God, for suchends, --what a thought: that every unit of these masses is a miraculousMan, even as thyself art; struggling, with vision, or with blindness, for his infinite Kingdom (this life which he has got, once only, in themiddle of Eternities); with a spark of the Divinity, what thou callestan immortal soul, in him! Dreary, languid do these struggle in their obscure remoteness; theirhearth cheerless, their diet thin. For them, in this world, rises no Eraof Hope; hardly now in the other, --if it be not hope in the gloomy restof Death, for their faith too is failing. Untaught, uncomforted, unfed!A dumb generation; their voice only an inarticulate cry: spokesman, in the King's Council, in the world's forum, they have none that findscredence. At rare intervals (as now, in 1775), they will fling downtheir hoes and hammers; and, to the astonishment of thinking mankind, (Lacretelle, France pendant le 18me Siecle, ii. 455. BiographieUniverselle, para Turgot (by Durozoir). ) flock hither and thither, dangerous, aimless; get the length even of Versailles. Turgot isaltering the Corn-trade, abrogating the absurdest Corn-laws; there isdearth, real, or were it even 'factitious;' an indubitable scarcity ofbread. And so, on the second day of May 1775, these waste multitudesdo here, at Versailles Chateau, in wide-spread wretchedness, in sallowfaces, squalor, winged raggedness, present, as in legible hieroglyphicwriting, their Petition of Grievances. The Chateau gates have to beshut; but the King will appear on the balcony, and speak to them. Theyhave seen the King's face; their Petition of Grievances has been, if notread, looked at. For answer, two of them are hanged, 'on a new gallowsforty feet high;' and the rest driven back to their dens, --for a time. Clearly a difficult 'point' for Government, that of dealing with thesemasses;--if indeed it be not rather the sole point and problemof Government, and all other points mere accidental crotchets, superficialities, and beatings of the wind! For let Charter-Chests, Useand Wont, Law common and special say what they will, the masses count toso many millions of units; made, to all appearance, by God, --whose Earththis is declared to be. Besides, the people are not without ferocity;they have sinews and indignation. Do but look what holiday old MarquisMirabeau, the crabbed old friend of Men, looked on, in these same years, from his lodging, at the Baths of Mont d'Or: 'The savages descendingin torrents from the mountains; our people ordered not to go out. TheCurate in surplice and stole; Justice in its peruke; Marechausee sabrein hand, guarding the place, till the bagpipes can begin. The danceinterrupted, in a quarter of an hour, by battle; the cries, thesquealings of children, of infirm persons, and other assistants, tarringthem on, as the rabble does when dogs fight: frightful men, or ratherfrightful wild animals, clad in jupes of coarse woollen, with largegirdles of leather studded with copper nails; of gigantic stature, heightened by high wooden-clogs (sabots); rising on tiptoe to see thefight; tramping time to it; rubbing their sides with their elbows: theirfaces haggard (figures haves), and covered with their long greasy hair;the upper part of the visage waxing pale, the lower distorting itselfinto the attempt at a cruel laugh and a sort of ferocious impatience. And these people pay the taille! And you want further to take their saltfrom them! And you know not what it is you are stripping barer, oras you call it, governing; what by the spurt of your pen, in itscold dastard indifference, you will fancy you can starve always withimpunity; always till the catastrophe come!--Ah Madame, such Governmentby Blindman's-buff, stumbling along too far, will end in the GeneralOverturn (culbute generale). (Memoires de Mirabeau, ecrits par Lui-meme, par son Pere, son Oncle et son Fils Adoptif (Paris, 34-5), ii. 186. ) Undoubtedly a dark feature this in an Age of Gold, --Age, at least, of Paper and Hope! Meanwhile, trouble us not with thy prophecies, Ocroaking Friend of Men: 'tis long that we have heard such; and still theold world keeps wagging, in its old way. Chapter 1. 2. III. Questionable. Or is this same Age of Hope itself but a simulacrum; as Hope too oftenis? Cloud-vapour with rainbows painted on it, beautiful to see, to sailtowards, --which hovers over Niagara Falls? In that case, victoriousAnalysis will have enough to do. Alas, yes! a whole world to remake, if she could see it; work foranother than she! For all is wrong, and gone out of joint; the inwardspiritual, and the outward economical; head or heart, there is nosoundness in it. As indeed, evils of all sorts are more or less of kin, and do usually go together: especially it is an old truth, that whereverhuge physical evil is, there, as the parent and origin of it, hasmoral evil to a proportionate extent been. Before those five-and-twentylabouring Millions, for instance, could get that haggardness of face, which old Mirabeau now looks on, in a Nation calling itself Christian, and calling man the brother of man, --what unspeakable, nigh infiniteDishonesty (of seeming and not being) in all manner of Rulers, andappointed Watchers, spiritual and temporal, must there not, through longages, have gone on accumulating! It will accumulate: moreover, it willreach a head; for the first of all Gospels is this, that a Lie cannotendure for ever. In fact, if we pierce through that rosepink vapour of Sentimentalism, Philanthropy, and Feasts of Morals, there lies behind it one of thesorriest spectacles. You might ask, What bonds that ever held a humansociety happily together, or held it together at all, are in force here?It is an unbelieving people; which has suppositions, hypotheses, andfroth-systems of victorious Analysis; and for belief this mainly, thatPleasure is pleasant. Hunger they have for all sweet things; and the lawof Hunger; but what other law? Within them, or over them, properly none! Their King has become a King Popinjay; with his Maurepas Government, gyrating as the weather-cock does, blown about by every wind. Abovethem they see no God; or they even do not look above, except withastronomical glasses. The Church indeed still is; but in the mostsubmissive state; quite tamed by Philosophism; in a singularly shorttime; for the hour was come. Some twenty years ago, your ArchbishopBeaumont would not even let the poor Jansenists get buried: your LomenieBrienne (a rising man, whom we shall meet with yet) could, in the nameof the Clergy, insist on having the Anti-protestant laws, which condemnto death for preaching, 'put in execution. ' (Boissy d'Anglas, Vie deMalesherbes, i. 15-22. ) And, alas, now not so much as Baron Holbach'sAtheism can be burnt, --except as pipe-matches by the private speculativeindividual. Our Church stands haltered, dumb, like a dumb ox; lowingonly for provender (of tithes); content if it can have that; or, dumbly, dully expecting its further doom. And the Twenty Millions of 'haggardfaces;' and, as finger-post and guidance to them in their dark struggle, 'a gallows forty feet high'! Certainly a singular Golden Age; withits Feasts of Morals, its 'sweet manners, ' its sweet institutions(institutions douces); betokening nothing but peace among men!--Peace?O Philosophe-Sentimentalism, what hast thou to do with peace, when thymother's name is Jezebel? Foul Product of still fouler Corruption, thouwith the corruption art doomed! Meanwhile it is singular how long the rotten will hold together, provided you do not handle it roughly. For whole generations itcontinues standing, 'with a ghastly affectation of life, ' after all lifeand truth has fled out of it; so loth are men to quit their old ways;and, conquering indolence and inertia, venture on new. Great truly isthe Actual; is the Thing that has rescued itself from bottomless deepsof theory and possibility, and stands there as a definite indisputableFact, whereby men do work and live, or once did so. Widely shall mencleave to that, while it will endure; and quit it with regret, when itgives way under them. Rash enthusiast of Change, beware! Hast thou wellconsidered all that Habit does in this life of ours; how all Knowledgeand all Practice hang wondrous over infinite abysses of the Unknown, Impracticable; and our whole being is an infinite abyss, over-arched byHabit, as by a thin Earth-rind, laboriously built together? But if 'every man, ' as it has been written, 'holds confined within hima mad-man, ' what must every Society do;--Society, which in its commoneststate is called 'the standing miracle of this world'! 'Without suchEarth-rind of Habit, ' continues our author, 'call it System of Habits, in a word, fixed ways of acting and of believing, --Society would notexist at all. With such it exists, better or worse. Herein too, in thisits System of Habits, acquired, retained how you will, lies the trueLaw-Code and Constitution of a Society; the only Code, though anunwritten one which it can in nowise disobey. The thing we call writtenCode, Constitution, Form of Government, and the like, what is it butsome miniature image, and solemnly expressed summary of this unwrittenCode? Is, --or rather alas, is not; but only should be, and always tendsto be! In which latter discrepancy lies struggle without end. ' Andnow, we add in the same dialect, let but, by ill chance, in suchever-enduring struggle, --your 'thin Earth-rind' be once broken! Thefountains of the great deep boil forth; fire-fountains, enveloping, engulfing. Your 'Earth-rind' is shattered, swallowed up; instead of agreen flowery world, there is a waste wild-weltering chaos:--which hasagain, with tumult and struggle, to make itself into a world. On the other hand, be this conceded: Where thou findest a Lie thatis oppressing thee, extinguish it. Lies exist there only to beextinguished; they wait and cry earnestly for extinction. Think well, meanwhile, in what spirit thou wilt do it: not with hatred, withheadlong selfish violence; but in clearness of heart, with holy zeal, gently, almost with pity. Thou wouldst not replace such extinct Lie bya new Lie, which a new Injustice of thy own were; the parent of stillother Lies? Whereby the latter end of that business were worse than thebeginning. So, however, in this world of ours, which has both an indestructiblehope in the Future, and an indestructible tendency to persevere asin the Past, must Innovation and Conservation wage their perpetualconflict, as they may and can. Wherein the 'daemonic element, ' thatlurks in all human things, may doubtless, some once in thethousand years--get vent! But indeed may we not regret that suchconflict, --which, after all, is but like that classical oneof 'hate-filled Amazons with heroic Youths, ' and will end inembraces, --should usually be so spasmodic? For Conservation, strengthened by that mightiest quality in us, our indolence, sits forlong ages, not victorious only, which she should be; but tyrannical, incommunicative. She holds her adversary as if annihilated; suchadversary lying, all the while, like some buried Enceladus; who, to gainthe smallest freedom, must stir a whole Trinacria with it Aetnas. Wherefore, on the whole, we will honour a Paper Age too; an Era of hope!For in this same frightful process of Enceladus Revolt; when thetask, on which no mortal would willingly enter, has become imperative, inevitable, --is it not even a kindness of Nature that she lures usforward by cheerful promises, fallacious or not; and a whole generationplunges into the Erebus Blackness, lighted on by an Era of Hope? Ithas been well said: 'Man is based on Hope; he has properly no otherpossession but Hope; this habitation of his is named the Place of Hope. ' Chapter 1. 2. IV. Maurepas. But now, among French hopes, is not that of old M. De Maurepas one ofthe best-grounded; who hopes that he, by dexterity, shall contrive tocontinue Minister? Nimble old man, who for all emergencies has his lightjest; and ever in the worst confusion will emerge, cork-like, unsunk!Small care to him is Perfectibility, Progress of the Species, andAstraea Redux: good only, that a man of light wit, verging towardsfourscore, can in the seat of authority feel himself important amongmen. Shall we call him, as haughty Chateauroux was wont of old, 'M. Faquinet (Diminutive of Scoundrel)'? In courtier dialect, he is nownamed 'the Nestor of France;' such governing Nestor as France has. At bottom, nevertheless, it might puzzle one to say where the Governmentof France, in these days, specially is. In that Chateau of Versailles, we have Nestor, King, Queen, ministers and clerks, with paper-bundlestied in tape: but the Government? For Government is a thing thatgoverns, that guides; and if need be, compels. Visible in France thereis not such a thing. Invisible, inorganic, on the other hand, there is:in Philosophe saloons, in Oeil-de-Boeuf galleries; in the tongue of thebabbler, in the pen of the pamphleteer. Her Majesty appearing at theOpera is applauded; she returns all radiant with joy. Anon the applauseswax fainter, or threaten to cease; she is heavy of heart, the light ofher face has fled. Is Sovereignty some poor Montgolfier; which, blowninto by the popular wind, grows great and mounts; or sinks flaccid, if the wind be withdrawn? France was long a 'Despotism tempered byEpigrams;' and now, it would seem, the Epigrams have get the upper hand. Happy were a young 'Louis the Desired' to make France happy; if itdid not prove too troublesome, and he only knew the way. But thereis endless discrepancy round him; so many claims and clamours; amere confusion of tongues. Not reconcilable by man; not manageable, suppressible, save by some strongest and wisest men;--which only alightly-jesting lightly-gyrating M. De Maurepas can so much as subsistamidst. Philosophism claims her new Era, meaning thereby innumerablethings. And claims it in no faint voice; for France at large, hithertomute, is now beginning to speak also; and speaks in that same sense. A huge, many-toned sound; distant, yet not unimpressive. On the otherhand, the Oeil-de-Boeuf, which, as nearest, one can hear best, claimswith shrill vehemence that the Monarchy be as heretofore a Horn ofPlenty; wherefrom loyal courtiers may draw, --to the just support ofthe throne. Let Liberalism and a New Era, if such is the wish, beintroduced; only no curtailment of the royal moneys? Which lattercondition, alas, is precisely the impossible one. Philosophism, as we saw, has got her Turgot made Controller-General; andthere shall be endless reformation. Unhappily this Turgot could continueonly twenty months. With a miraculous Fortunatus' Purse in his Treasury, it might have lasted longer; with such Purse indeed, every FrenchController-General, that would prosper in these days, ought first toprovide himself. But here again may we not remark the bounty of Naturein regard to Hope? Man after man advances confident to the AugeanStable, as if he could clean it; expends his little fraction of anability on it, with such cheerfulness; does, in so far as he was honest, accomplish something. Turgot has faculties; honesty, insight, heroic volition; but the Fortunatus' Purse he has not. SanguineController-General! a whole pacific French Revolution may standschemed in the head of the thinker; but who shall pay the unspeakable'indemnities' that will be needed? Alas, far from that: on the verythreshold of the business, he proposes that the Clergy, the Noblesse, the very Parlements be subjected to taxes! One shriek of indignationand astonishment reverberates through all the Chateau galleries; M. DeMaurepas has to gyrate: the poor King, who had written few weeks ago, 'Il n'y a que vous et moi qui aimions le peuple (There is none butyou and I that has the people's interest at heart), ' must write nowa dismissal; (In May, 1776. ) and let the French Revolution accomplishitself, pacifically or not, as it can. Hope, then, is deferred? Deferred; not destroyed, or abated. Is notthis, for example, our Patriarch Voltaire, after long years of absence, revisiting Paris? With face shrivelled to nothing; with 'huge peruke ala Louis Quatorze, which leaves only two eyes "visible" glittering likecarbuncles, ' the old man is here. (February, 1778. ) What anoutburst! Sneering Paris has suddenly grown reverent; devotional withHero-worship. Nobles have disguised themselves as tavern-waiters toobtain sight of him: the loveliest of France would lay their hairbeneath his feet. 'His chariot is the nucleus of a comet; whose trainfills whole streets:' they crown him in the theatre, with immortalvivats; 'finally stifle him under roses, '--for old Richelieu recommendedopium in such state of the nerves, and the excessive Patriarch took toomuch. Her Majesty herself had some thought of sending for him; but wasdissuaded. Let Majesty consider it, nevertheless. The purport of thisman's existence has been to wither up and annihilate all whereonMajesty and Worship for the present rests: and is it so that the worldrecognises him? With Apotheosis; as its Prophet and Speaker, who hasspoken wisely the thing it longed to say? Add only, that the body ofthis same rose-stifled, beatified-Patriarch cannot get buried except bystealth. It is wholly a notable business; and France, without doubt, isbig (what the Germans call 'Of good Hope'): we shall wish her a happybirth-hour, and blessed fruit. Beaumarchais too has now winded-up his Law-Pleadings (Memoires);(1773-6. See Oeuvres de Beaumarchais; where they, and the history ofthem, are given. ) not without result, to himself and to the world. CaronBeaumarchais (or de Beaumarchais, for he got ennobled) had been bornpoor, but aspiring, esurient; with talents, audacity, adroitness; aboveall, with the talent for intrigue: a lean, but also a tough, indomitableman. Fortune and dexterity brought him to the harpsichord of Mesdames, our good Princesses Loque, Graille and Sisterhood. Still better, ParisDuvernier, the Court-Banker, honoured him with some confidence; tothe length even of transactions in cash. Which confidence, however, Duvernier's Heir, a person of quality, would not continue. Quiteotherwise; there springs a Lawsuit from it: wherein tough Beaumarchais, losing both money and repute, is, in the opinion of Judge-ReporterGoezman, of the Parlement Maupeou, of a whole indifferent acquiescingworld, miserably beaten. In all men's opinions, only not in his own!Inspired by the indignation, which makes, if not verses, satiricallaw-papers, the withered Music-master, with a desperate heroism, takes up his lost cause in spite of the world; fights for it, againstReporters, Parlements and Principalities, with light banter, with clearlogic; adroitly, with an inexhaustible toughness and resource, likethe skilfullest fencer; on whom, so skilful is he, the whole world nowlooks. Three long years it lasts; with wavering fortune. In fine, afterlabours comparable to the Twelve of Hercules, our unconquerable Carontriumphs; regains his Lawsuit and Lawsuits; strips Reporter Goezman ofthe judicial ermine; covering him with a perpetual garment of obloquyinstead:--and in regard to the Parlement Maupeou (which he has helpedto extinguish), to Parlements of all kinds, and to French Justicegenerally, gives rise to endless reflections in the minds of men. Thushas Beaumarchais, like a lean French Hercules, ventured down, drivenby destiny, into the Nether Kingdoms; and victoriously tamed hell-dogsthere. He also is henceforth among the notabilities of his generation. Chapter 1. 2. V. Astraea Redux without Cash. Observe, however, beyond the Atlantic, has not the new day verilydawned! Democracy, as we said, is born; storm-girt, is struggling forlife and victory. A sympathetic France rejoices over the Rights of Man;in all saloons, it is said, What a spectacle! Now too behold our Deane, our Franklin, American Plenipotentiaries, here in position soliciting;(1777; Deane somewhat earlier: Franklin remained till 1785. ) the sonsof the Saxon Puritans, with their Old-Saxon temper, Old-Hebrew culture, sleek Silas, sleek Benjamin, here on such errand, among the lightchildren of Heathenism, Monarchy, Sentimentalism, and the Scarlet-woman. A spectacle indeed; over which saloons may cackle joyous; though KaiserJoseph, questioned on it, gave this answer, most unexpected from aPhilosophe: "Madame, the trade I live by is that of royalist (Mon metiera moi c'est d'etre royaliste). " So thinks light Maurepas too; but the wind of Philosophism and force ofpublic opinion will blow him round. Best wishes, meanwhile, are sent;clandestine privateers armed. Paul Jones shall equip his Bon HommeRichard: weapons, military stores can be smuggled over (if the Englishdo not seize them); wherein, once more Beaumarchais, dimly as the GiantSmuggler becomes visible, --filling his own lank pocket withal. Butsurely, in any case, France should have a Navy. For which great objectwere not now the time: now when that proud Termagant of the Seas has herhands full? It is true, an impoverished Treasury cannot build ships;but the hint once given (which Beaumarchais says he gave), this and theother loyal Seaport, Chamber of Commerce, will build and offer them. Goodly vessels bound into the waters; a Ville de Paris, Leviathan ofships. And now when gratuitous three-deckers dance there at anchor, withstreamers flying; and eleutheromaniac Philosophedom grows ever moreclamorous, what can a Maurepas do--but gyrate? Squadrons cross theocean: Gages, Lees, rough Yankee Generals, 'with woollen night-capsunder their hats, ' present arms to the far-glancing Chivalry of France;and new-born Democracy sees, not without amazement, 'Despotism temperedby Epigrams fight at her side. So, however, it is. King's forces andheroic volunteers; Rochambeaus, Bouilles, Lameths, Lafayettes, havedrawn their swords in this sacred quarrel of mankind;--shall draw themagain elsewhere, in the strangest way. Off Ushant some naval thunder is heard. In the course of which didour young Prince, Duke de Chartres, 'hide in the hold;' or did hematerially, by active heroism, contribute to the victory? Alas, by asecond edition, we learn that there was no victory; or that EnglishKeppel had it. (27th July, 1778. ) Our poor young Prince gets hisOpera plaudits changed into mocking tehees; and cannot becomeGrand-Admiral, --the source to him of woes which one may call endless. Woe also for Ville de Paris, the Leviathan of ships! English Rodney hasclutched it, and led it home, with the rest; so successful was his new'manoeuvre of breaking the enemy's line. ' (9th and 12th April, 1782. ) Itseems as if, according to Louis XV. , 'France were never to have a Navy. 'Brave Suffren must return from Hyder Ally and the Indian Waters; withsmall result; yet with great glory for 'six non-defeats;--which indeed, with such seconding as he had, one may reckon heroic. Let the oldsea-hero rest now, honoured of France, in his native Cevennes mountains;send smoke, not of gunpowder, but mere culinary smoke, through the oldchimneys of the Castle of Jales, --which one day, in other hands, shall have other fame. Brave Laperouse shall by and by lift anchor, onphilanthropic Voyage of Discovery; for the King knows Geography. (August1st, 1785. ) But, alas, this also will not prosper: the brave Navigatorgoes, and returns not; the Seekers search far seas for him in vain. He has vanished trackless into blue Immensity; and only some mournfulmysterious shadow of him hovers long in all heads and hearts. Neither, while the War yet lasts, will Gibraltar surrender. Not thoughCrillon, Nassau-Siegen, with the ablest projectors extant, are there;and Prince Conde and Prince d'Artois have hastened to help. Wondrousleather-roofed Floating-batteries, set afloat by French-Spanish Pacte deFamille, give gallant summons: to which, nevertheless, Gibraltar answersPlutonically, with mere torrents of redhot iron, --as if stone Calpe hadbecome a throat of the Pit; and utters such a Doom's-blast of a No, as all men must credit. (Annual Register (Dodsley's), xxv. 258-267. September, October, 1782. ) And so, with this loud explosion, the noise of War has ceased; an Ageof Benevolence may hope, for ever. Our noble volunteers of Freedom havereturned, to be her missionaries. Lafayette, as the matchless of histime, glitters in the Versailles Oeil-de-Beouf; has his Bust set up inthe Paris Hotel-de-Ville. Democracy stands inexpugnable, immeasurable, in her New World; has even a foot lifted towards the Old;--and ourFrench Finances, little strengthened by such work, are in no healthyway. What to do with the Finance? This indeed is the great question: a smallbut most black weather-symptom, which no radiance of universal hopecan cover. We saw Turgot cast forth from the Controllership, withshrieks, --for want of a Fortunatus' Purse. As little could M. De Clugnymanage the duty; or indeed do anything, but consume his wages; attain'a place in History, ' where as an ineffectual shadow thou beholdest himstill lingering;--and let the duty manage itself. Did Genevese Neckerpossess such a Purse, then? He possessed banker's skill, banker'shonesty; credit of all kinds, for he had written Academic Prize Essays, struggled for India Companies, given dinners to Philosophes, and'realised a fortune in twenty years. ' He possessed, further, ataciturnity and solemnity; of depth, or else of dulness. How singularfor Celadon Gibbon, false swain as he had proved; whose father, keepingmost probably his own gig, 'would not hear of such a union, '--to findnow his forsaken Demoiselle Curchod sitting in the high places ofthe world, as Minister's Madame, and 'Necker not jealous!' (Gibbon'sLetters: date, 16th June, 1777, &c. ) A new young Demoiselle, one day to be famed as a Madame and De Stael, was romping about the knees of the Decline and Fall: the lady Neckerfounds Hospitals; gives solemn Philosophe dinner-parties, to cheer herexhausted Controller-General. Strange things have happened: byclamour of Philosophism, management of Marquis de Pezay, and Povertyconstraining even Kings. And so Necker, Atlas-like, sustains the burdenof the Finances, for five years long? (Till May, 1781. ) Without wages, for he refused such; cheered only by Public Opinion, and the ministeringof his noble Wife. With many thoughts in him, it is hoped;--which, however, he is shy of uttering. His Compte Rendu, published by the royalpermission, fresh sign of a New Era, shows wonders;--which what butthe genius of some Atlas-Necker can prevent from becoming portents? InNecker's head too there is a whole pacific French Revolution, of itskind; and in that taciturn dull depth, or deep dulness, ambition enough. Meanwhile, alas, his Fotunatus' Purse turns out to be little other thanthe old 'vectigal of Parsimony. ' Nay, he too has to produce his schemeof taxing: Clergy, Noblesse to be taxed; Provincial Assemblies, and therest, --like a mere Turgot! The expiring M. De Maurepas must gyrate oneother time. Let Necker also depart; not unlamented. Great in a private station, Necker looks on from the distance; abidinghis time. 'Eighty thousand copies' of his new Book, which he callsAdministration des Finances, will be sold in few days. He is gone; butshall return, and that more than once, borne by a whole shouting Nation. Singular Controller-General of the Finances; once Clerk in Thelusson'sBank! Chapter 1. 2. VI. Windbags. So marches the world, in this its Paper Age, or Era of Hope. Not withoutobstructions, war-explosions; which, however, heard from such distance, are little other than a cheerful marching-music. If indeed that darkliving chaos of Ignorance and Hunger, five-and-twenty million strong, under your feet, --were to begin playing! For the present, however, consider Longchamp; now when Lent is ending, and the glory of Paris and France has gone forth, as in annual wont. Not to assist at Tenebris Masses, but to sun itself and show itself, and salute the Young Spring. (Mercier, Tableau de Paris, ii. 51. Louvet, Roman de Faublas, &c. ) Manifold, bright-tinted, glittering with gold;all through the Bois de Boulogne, in longdrawn variegated rows;--likelongdrawn living flower-borders, tulips, dahlias, lilies of the valley;all in their moving flower-pots (of new-gilt carriages): pleasure of theeye, and pride of life! So rolls and dances the Procession: steady, offirm assurance, as if it rolled on adamant and the foundations of theworld; not on mere heraldic parchment, --under which smoulders a lake offire. Dance on, ye foolish ones; ye sought not wisdom, neither haveye found it. Ye and your fathers have sown the wind, ye shall reap thewhirlwind. Was it not, from of old, written: The wages of sin is death? But at Longchamp, as elsewhere, we remark for one thing, that dame andcavalier are waited on each by a kind of human familiar, named jokei. Little elf, or imp; though young, already withered; with its witheredair of premature vice, of knowingness, of completed elf-hood: useful invarious emergencies. The name jokei (jockey) comes from the English; asthe thing also fancies that it does. Our Anglomania, in fact, is grownconsiderable; prophetic of much. If France is to be free, why shall shenot, now when mad war is hushed, love neighbouring Freedom? Cultivatedmen, your Dukes de Liancourt, de la Rochefoucault admire the EnglishConstitution, the English National Character; would import what of itthey can. Of what is lighter, especially if it be light as wind, how much easierthe freightage! Non-Admiral Duke de Chartres (not yet d'Orleans orEgalite) flies to and fro across the Strait; importing English Fashions;this he, as hand-and-glove with an English Prince of Wales, is surelyqualified to do. Carriages and saddles; top-boots and redingotes, aswe call riding-coats. Nay the very mode of riding: for now no man on alevel with his age but will trot a l'Anglaise, rising in the stirrups;scornful of the old sitfast method, in which, according to Shakspeare, 'butter and eggs' go to market. Also, he can urge the fervid wheels, this brave Chartres of ours; no whip in Paris is rasher and surer thanthe unprofessional one of Monseigneur. Elf jokeis, we have seen; but see now real Yorkshire jockeys, and whatthey ride on, and train: English racers for French Races. These likewisewe owe first (under the Providence of the Devil) to Monseigneur. Princed'Artois also has his stud of racers. Prince d'Artois has withalthe strangest horseleech: a moonstruck, much-enduring individual, of Neuchatel in Switzerland, --named Jean Paul Marat. A problematicChevalier d'Eon, now in petticoats, now in breeches, is no lessproblematic in London than in Paris; and causes bets and lawsuits. Beautiful days of international communion! Swindlery and Blackguardismhave stretched hands across the Channel, and saluted mutually: on theracecourse of Vincennes or Sablons, behold in English curricle-and-four, wafted glorious among the principalities and rascalities, an English Dr. Dodd, (Adelung, Geschichte der Menschlichen Narrheit, para Dodd. )--forwhom also the too early gallows gapes. Duke de Chartres was a young Prince of great promise, as young Princesoften are; which promise unfortunately has belied itself. With the hugeOrleans Property, with Duke de Penthievre for Father-in-law (and now theyoung Brother-in-law Lamballe killed by excesses), --he will one day bethe richest man in France. Meanwhile, 'his hair is all falling out, his blood is quite spoiled, '--by early transcendentalism of debauchery. Carbuncles stud his face; dark studs on a ground of burnished copper. Amost signal failure, this young Prince! The stuff prematurely burnt outof him: little left but foul smoke and ashes of expiring sensualities:what might have been Thought, Insight, and even Conduct, gone now, orfast going, --to confused darkness, broken by bewildering dazzlements; toobstreperous crotchets; to activities which you may call semi-delirious, or even semi-galvanic! Paris affects to laugh at his charioteering; buthe heeds not such laughter. On the other hand, what a day, not of laughter, was that, whenhe threatened, for lucre's sake, to lay sacrilegious hand onthe Palais-Royal Garden! (1781-82. (Dulaure, viii. 423. )) Theflower-parterres shall be riven up; the Chestnut Avenues shall fall:time-honoured boscages, under which the Opera Hamadryads were wont towander, not inexorable to men. Paris moans aloud. Philidor, from hisCafe de la Regence, shall no longer look on greenness; the loungers andlosels of the world, where now shall they haunt? In vain is moaning. Theaxe glitters; the sacred groves fall crashing, --for indeed Monseigneurwas short of money: the Opera Hamadryads fly with shrieks. Shriek not, ye Opera Hamadryads; or not as those that have no comfort. He willsurround your Garden with new edifices and piazzas: though narrowed, itshall be replanted; dizened with hydraulic jets, cannon which the sunfires at noon; things bodily, things spiritual, such as man has notimagined;--and in the Palais-Royal shall again, and more than ever, bethe Sorcerer's Sabbath and Satan-at-Home of our Planet. What will not mortals attempt? From remote Annonay in the Vivarais, theBrothers Montgolfier send up their paper-dome, filled with the smoke ofburnt wool. (5th June, 1783. ) The Vivarais provincial assembly is tobe prorogued this same day: Vivarais Assembly-members applaud, andthe shouts of congregated men. Will victorious Analysis scale the veryHeavens, then? Paris hears with eager wonder; Paris shall ere long see. FromReveilion's Paper-warehouse there, in the Rue St. Antoine (a notedWarehouse), --the new Montgolfier air-ship launches itself. Ducks andpoultry are borne skyward: but now shall men be borne. (October andNovember, 1783. ) Nay, Chemist Charles thinks of hydrogen and glazedsilk. Chemist Charles will himself ascend, from the Tuileries Garden;Montgolfier solemnly cutting the cord. By Heaven, he also mounts, he andanother? Ten times ten thousand hearts go palpitating; all tongues aremute with wonder and fear; till a shout, like the voice of seas, rollsafter him, on his wild way. He soars, he dwindles upwards; has becomea mere gleaming circlet, --like some Turgotine snuff-box, what we call'Turgotine Platitude;' like some new daylight Moon! Finally he descends;welcomed by the universe. Duchess Polignac, with a party, is in the Boisde Boulogne, waiting; though it is drizzly winter; the 1st of December1783. The whole chivalry of France, Duke de Chartres foremost, gallopsto receive him. (Lacretelle, 18me Siecle, iii. 258. ) Beautiful invention; mounting heavenward, so beautifully, --sounguidably! Emblem of much, and of our Age of Hope itself; whichshall mount, specifically-light, majestically in this same manner; andhover, --tumbling whither Fate will. Well if it do not, Pilatre-like, explode; and demount all the more tragically!--So, riding on windbags, will men scale the Empyrean. Or observe Herr Doctor Mesmer, in his spacious Magnetic Halls. Long-stoled he walks; reverend, glancing upwards, as in rapt commerce;an Antique Egyptian Hierophant in this new age. Soft music flits;breaking fitfully the sacred stillness. Round their Magnetic Mystery, which to the eye is mere tubs with water, --sit breathless, rod inhand, the circles of Beauty and Fashion, each circle a living circularPassion-Flower: expecting the magnetic afflatus, and new-manufacturedHeaven-on-Earth. O women, O men, great is your infidel-faith! AParlementary Duport, a Bergasse, D'Espremenil we notice there; ChemistBerthollet too, --on the part of Monseigneur de Chartres. Had not the Academy of Sciences, with its Baillys, Franklins, Lavoisiers, interfered! But it did interfere. (Lacretelle, 18me Siecle, iii. 258. ) Mesmer may pocket his hard money, and withdraw. Let him walksilent by the shore of the Bodensee, by the ancient town of Constance;meditating on much. For so, under the strangest new vesture, the oldgreat truth (since no vesture can hide it) begins again to be revealed:That man is what we call a miraculous creature, with miraculous powerover men; and, on the whole, with such a Life in him, and such aWorld round him, as victorious Analysis, with her Physiologies, Nervous-systems, Physic and Metaphysic, will never completely name, tosay nothing of explaining. Wherein also the Quack shall, in all ages, come in for his share. (August, 1784. ) Chapter 1. 2. VII. Contrat Social. In such succession of singular prismatic tints, flush after flushsuffusing our horizon, does the Era of Hope dawn on towards fulfilment. Questionable! As indeed, with an Era of Hope that rests on mereuniversal Benevolence, victorious Analysis, Vice cured of its deformity;and, in the long run, on Twenty-five dark savage Millions, lookingup, in hunger and weariness, to that Ecce-signum of theirs 'forty feethigh, '--how could it but be questionable? Through all time, if we read aright, sin was, is, will be, the parentof misery. This land calls itself most Christian, and has crossesand cathedrals; but its High-priest is some Roche-Aymon, someNecklace-Cardinal Louis de Rohan. The voice of the poor, through longyears, ascends inarticulate, in Jacqueries, meal-mobs; low-whimperingof infinite moan: unheeded of the Earth; not unheeded of Heaven. Alwaysmoreover where the Millions are wretched, there are the Thousandsstraitened, unhappy; only the Units can flourish; or say rather, beruined the last. Industry, all noosed and haltered, as if it too weresome beast of chase for the mighty hunters of this world to bait, andcut slices from, --cries passionately to these its well-paid guides andwatchers, not, Guide me; but, Laissez faire, Leave me alone of yourguidance! What market has Industry in this France? For two things theremay be market and demand: for the coarser kind of field-fruits, sincethe Millions will live: for the fine kinds of luxury and spicery, --ofmultiform taste, from opera-melodies down to racers and courtesans;since the Units will be amused. It is at bottom but a mad state ofthings. To mend and remake all which we have, indeed, victorious Analysis. Honour to victorious Analysis; nevertheless, out of the Workshop andLaboratory, what thing was victorious Analysis yet known to make?Detection of incoherences, mainly; destruction of the incoherent. Fromof old, Doubt was but half a magician; she evokes the spectres which shecannot quell. We shall have 'endless vortices of froth-logic;' whereonfirst words, and then things, are whirled and swallowed. Remark, accordingly, as acknowledged grounds of Hope, at bottom mere precursorsof Despair, this perpetual theorising about Man, the Mind of Man, Philosophy of Government, Progress of the Species and such-like; themain thinking furniture of every head. Time, and so many Montesquieus, Mablys, spokesmen of Time, have discovered innumerable things: and nowhas not Jean Jacques promulgated his new Evangel of a Contrat Social;explaining the whole mystery of Government, and how it is contracted andbargained for, --to universal satisfaction? Theories of Government! Suchhave been, and will be; in ages of decadence. Acknowledge them in theirdegree; as processes of Nature, who does nothing in vain; as steps inher great process. Meanwhile, what theory is so certain as this, Thatall theories, were they never so earnest, painfully elaborated, are, and, by the very conditions of them, must be incomplete, questionable, and even false? Thou shalt know that this Universe is, what it professesto be, an infinite one. Attempt not to swallow it, for thy logicaldigestion; be thankful, if skilfully planting down this and the otherfixed pillar in the chaos, thou prevent its swallowing thee. That a newyoung generation has exchanged the Sceptic Creed, What shall I believe?for passionate Faith in this Gospel according to Jean Jacques is afurther step in the business; and betokens much. Blessed also is Hope; and always from the beginning there was someMillennium prophesied; Millennium of Holiness; but (what is notable)never till this new Era, any Millennium of mere Ease and plentifulSupply. In such prophesied Lubberland, of Happiness, Benevolence, andVice cured of its deformity, trust not, my friends! Man is not what onecalls a happy animal; his appetite for sweet victual is so enormous. How, in this wild Universe, which storms in on him, infinite, vague-menacing, shall poor man find, say not happiness, but existence, and footing to stand on, if it be not by girding himself together forcontinual endeavour and endurance? Woe, if in his heart there dwelt nodevout Faith; if the word Duty had lost its meaning for him! For as tothis of Sentimentalism, so useful for weeping with over romances and onpathetic occasions, it otherwise verily will avail nothing; nay less. The healthy heart that said to itself, 'How healthy am I!' was alreadyfallen into the fatalest sort of disease. Is not Sentimentalismtwin-sister to Cant, if not one and the same with it? Is not Cant themateria prima of the Devil; from which all falsehoods, imbecilities, abominations body themselves; from which no true thing can come? ForCant is itself properly a double-distilled Lie; the second-power of aLie. And now if a whole Nation fall into that? In such case, I answer, infallibly they will return out of it! For life is no cunningly-deviseddeception or self-deception: it is a great truth that thou art alive, that thou hast desires, necessities; neither can these subsist andsatisfy themselves on delusions, but on fact. To fact, depend on it, weshall come back: to such fact, blessed or cursed, as we have wisdomfor. The lowest, least blessed fact one knows of, on which necessitousmortals have ever based themselves, seems to be the primitive one ofCannibalism: That I can devour Thee. What if such Primitive Fact wereprecisely the one we had (with our improved methods) to revert to, andbegin anew from! Chapter 1. 2. VIII. Printed Paper. In such a practical France, let the theory of Perfectibility say whatit will, discontents cannot be wanting: your promised Reformation isso indispensable; yet it comes not; who will begin it--with himself?Discontent with what is around us, still more with what is above us, goes on increasing; seeking ever new vents. Of Street Ballads, of Epigrams that from of old tempered Despotism, weneed not speak. Nor of Manuscript Newspapers (Nouvelles a la main) dowe speak. Bachaumont and his journeymen and followers may close those'thirty volumes of scurrilous eaves-dropping, ' and quit that trade; forat length if not liberty of the Press, there is license. Pamphlets canbe surreptititiously vended and read in Paris, did they even bear tobe 'Printed at Pekin. ' We have a Courrier de l'Europe in those years, regularly published at London; by a De Morande, whom the guillotine hasnot yet devoured. There too an unruly Linguet, still unguillotined, whenhis own country has become too hot for him, and his brother Advocateshave cast him out, can emit his hoarse wailings, and Bastille Devoilee(Bastille unveiled). Loquacious Abbe Raynal, at length, has his wish;sees the Histoire Philosophique, with its 'lubricity, ' unveracity, looseloud eleutheromaniac rant (contributed, they say, by Philosophedom atlarge, though in the Abbe's name, and to his glory), burnt by the commonhangman;--and sets out on his travels as a martyr. It was the edition of1781; perhaps the last notable book that had such fire-beatitude, --thehangman discovering now that it did not serve. Again, in Courts of Law, with their money-quarrels, divorce-cases, wheresoever a glimpse into the household existence can be had, whatindications! The Parlements of Besancon and Aix ring, audible to allFrance, with the amours and destinies of a young Mirabeau. He, underthe nurture of a 'Friend of Men, ' has, in State Prisons, in marchingRegiments, Dutch Authors' garrets, and quite other scenes, 'been fortwenty years learning to resist 'despotism:' despotism of men, andalas also of gods. How, beneath this rose-coloured veil of UniversalBenevolence and Astraea Redux, is the sanctuary of Home so often adreary void, or a dark contentious Hell-on-Earth! The old Friend of Menhas his own divorce case too; and at times, 'his whole family but one'under lock and key: he writes much about reforming and enfranchisingthe world; and for his own private behoof he has needed sixtyLettres-de-Cachet. A man of insight too, with resolution, even withmanful principle: but in such an element, inward and outward; which hecould not rule, but only madden. Edacity, rapacity;--quite contrary tothe finer sensibilities of the heart! Fools, that expect your verdantMillennium, and nothing but Love and Abundance, brooks running wine, winds whispering music, --with the whole ground and basis of yourexistence champed into a mud of Sensuality; which, daily growing deeper, will soon have no bottom but the Abyss! Or consider that unutterable business of the Diamond Necklace. Red-hatted Cardinal Louis de Rohan; Sicilian jail-bird BalsamoCagliostro; milliner Dame de Lamotte, 'with a face of some piquancy:'the highest Church Dignitaries waltzing, in Walpurgis Dance, withquack-prophets, pickpurses and public women;--a whole Satan's InvisibleWorld displayed; working there continually under the daylight visibleone; the smoke of its torment going up for ever! The Throne has beenbrought into scandalous collision with the Treadmill. Astonished Europerings with the mystery for ten months; sees only lie unfold itselffrom lie; corruption among the lofty and the low, gulosity, credulity, imbecility, strength nowhere but in the hunger. Weep, fair Queen, thyfirst tears of unmixed wretchedness! Thy fair name has been tarnished byfoul breath; irremediably while life lasts. No more shalt thou be lovedand pitied by living hearts, till a new generation has been born, and thy own heart lies cold, cured of all its sorrows. --The Epigramshenceforth become, not sharp and bitter; but cruel, atrocious, unmentionable. On that 31st of May, 1786, a miserable CardinalGrand-Almoner Rohan, on issuing from his Bastille, is escorted byhurrahing crowds: unloved he, and worthy of no love; but importantsince the Court and Queen are his enemies. (Fils Adoptif, Memoires deMirabeau, iv. 325. ) How is our bright Era of Hope dimmed: and the whole sky growing bleakwith signs of hurricane and earthquake! It is a doomed world: gone all'obedience that made men free;' fast going the obedience that made menslaves, --at least to one another. Slaves only of their own lusts theynow are, and will be. Slaves of sin; inevitably also of sorrow. Beholdthe mouldering mass of Sensuality and Falsehood; round whichplays foolishly, itself a corrupt phosphorescence, some glimmer ofSentimentalism;--and over all, rising, as Ark of their Covenant, thegrim Patibulary Fork 'forty feet high;' which also is now nigh rotted. Add only that the French Nation distinguishes itself among Nations bythe characteristic of Excitability; with the good, but also with theperilous evil, which belongs to that. Rebellion, explosion, of unknownextent is to be calculated on. There are, as Chesterfield wrote, 'allthe symptoms I have ever met with in History!' Shall we say, then: Wo to Philosophism, that it destroyed Religion, whatit called 'extinguishing the abomination (ecraser 'l'infame)'? Wo ratherto those that made the Holy an abomination, and extinguishable; woat all men that live in such a time of world-abomination andworld-destruction! Nay, answer the Courtiers, it was Turgot, it wasNecker, with their mad innovating; it was the Queen's want of etiquette;it was he, it was she, it was that. Friends! it was every scoundrel thathad lived, and quack-like pretended to be doing, and been only eatingand misdoing, in all provinces of life, as Shoeblack or as SovereignLord, each in his degree, from the time of Charlemagne and earlier. All this (for be sure no falsehood perishes, but is as seed sown outto grow) has been storing itself for thousands of years; and now theaccount-day has come. And rude will the settlement be: of wrath laid upagainst the day of wrath. O my Brother, be not thou a Quack! Die rather, if thou wilt take counsel; 'tis but dying once, and thou art quit of itfor ever. Cursed is that trade; and bears curses, thou knowest not how, long ages after thou art departed, and the wages thou hadst are allconsumed; nay, as the ancient wise have written, --through Eternityitself, and is verily marked in the Doom-Book of a God! Hope deferred maketh the heart sick. And yet, as we said, Hope isbut deferred; not abolished, not abolishable. It is very notable, andtouching, how this same Hope does still light onwards the French Nationthrough all its wild destinies. For we shall still find Hope shining, beit for fond invitation, be it for anger and menace; as a mild heavenlylight it shone; as a red conflagration it shines: burning sulphurousblue, through darkest regions of Terror, it still shines; and goes sentout at all, since Desperation itself is a kind of Hope. Thus is our Erastill to be named of Hope, though in the saddest sense, --when there isnothing left but Hope. But if any one would know summarily what a Pandora's Box lies there forthe opening, he may see it in what by its nature is the symptom of allsymptoms, the surviving Literature of the Period. Abbe Raynal, withhis lubricity and loud loose rant, has spoken his word; and already thefast-hastening generation responds to another. Glance at Beaumarchais'Mariage de Figaro; which now (in 1784), after difficulty enough, hasissued on the stage; and 'runs its hundred nights, ' to the admiration ofall men. By what virtue or internal vigour it so ran, the reader of ourday will rather wonder:--and indeed will know so much the better thatit flattered some pruriency of the time; that it spoke what all werefeeling, and longing to speak. Small substance in that Figaro: thinwiredrawn intrigues, thin wiredrawn sentiments and sarcasms; a thinglean, barren; yet which winds and whisks itself, as through a whollymad universe, adroitly, with a high-sniffing air: wherein each, as washinted, which is the grand secret, may see some image of himself, andof his own state and ways. So it runs its hundred nights, and all Franceruns with it; laughing applause. If the soliloquising Barber ask: "Whathas your Lordship done to earn all this?" and can only answer: "You tookthe trouble to be born (Vous vous etes donne la peine de naitre), " allmen must laugh: and a gay horse-racing Anglomaniac Noblesse loudest ofall. For how can small books have a great danger in them? asks the SieurCaron; and fancies his thin epigram may be a kind of reason. Conquerorof a golden fleece, by giant smuggling; tamer of hell-dogs, in theParlement Maupeou; and finally crowned Orpheus in the Theatre Francais, Beaumarchais has now culminated, and unites the attributes of severaldemigods. We shall meet him once again, in the course of his decline. Still more significant are two Books produced on the eve of theever-memorable Explosion itself, and read eagerly by all the world:Saint-Pierre's Paul et Virginie, and Louvet's Chevalier de Faublas. Noteworthy Books; which may be considered as the last speech of oldFeudal France. In the first there rises melodiously, as it were, the wail of a moribund world: everywhere wholesome Nature in unequalconflict with diseased perfidious Art; cannot escape from it in thelowest hut, in the remotest island of the sea. Ruin and death muststrike down the loved one; and, what is most significant of all, deatheven here not by necessity, but by etiquette. What a world of prurientcorruption lies visible in that super-sublime of modesty! Yet, on thewhole, our good Saint-Pierre is musical, poetical though most morbid: wewill call his Book the swan-song of old dying France. Louvet's again, let no man account musical. Truly, if this wretchedFaublas is a death-speech, it is one under the gallows, and by a felonthat does not repent. Wretched cloaca of a Book; without depth even asa cloaca! What 'picture of French society' is here? Picture properly ofnothing, if not of the mind that gave it out as some sort of picture. Yet symptom of much; above all, of the world that could nourish itselfthereon. BOOK 1. III. THE PARLEMENT OF PARIS Chapter 1. 3. I. Dishonoured Bills. While the unspeakable confusion is everywhere weltering within, andthrough so many cracks in the surface sulphur-smoke is issuing, thequestion arises: Through what crevice will the main Explosion carryitself? Through which of the old craters or chimneys; or must it, atonce, form a new crater for itself? In every Society are such chimneys, are Institutions serving as such: even Constantinople is not without itssafety-valves; there too Discontent can vent itself, --in material fire;by the number of nocturnal conflagrations, or of hanged bakers, theReigning Power can read the signs of the times, and change courseaccording to these. We may say that this French Explosion will doubtless first try all theold Institutions of escape; for by each of these there is, or at leastthere used to be, some communication with the interior deep; they arenational Institutions in virtue of that. Had they even become personalInstitutions, and what we can call choked up from their original uses, there nevertheless must the impediment be weaker than elsewhere. Throughwhich of them then? An observer might have guessed: Through the LawParlements; above all, through the Parlement of Paris. Men, though never so thickly clad in dignities, sit not inaccessible tothe influences of their time; especially men whose life is business;who at all turns, were it even from behind judgment-seats, have comein contact with the actual workings of the world. The Counsellor ofParlement, the President himself, who has bought his place with hardmoney that he might be looked up to by his fellow-creatures, how shallhe, in all Philosophe-soirees, and saloons of elegant culture, becomenotable as a Friend of Darkness? Among the Paris Long-robes there maybe more than one patriotic Malesherbes, whose rule is conscience and thepublic good; there are clearly more than one hotheaded D'Espremenil, towhose confused thought any loud reputation of the Brutus sort may seemglorious. The Lepelletiers, Lamoignons have titles and wealth; yet, atCourt, are only styled 'Noblesse of the Robe. ' There are Duports of deepscheme; Freteaus, Sabatiers, of incontinent tongue: all nursed more orless on the milk of the Contrat Social. Nay, for the whole Body, is notthis patriotic opposition also a fighting for oneself? Awake, Parlementof Paris, renew thy long warfare! Was not the Parlement Maupeouabolished with ignominy? Not now hast thou to dread a Louis XIV. , withthe crack of his whip, and his Olympian looks; not now a Richelieu andBastilles: no, the whole Nation is behind thee. Thou too (O heavens!)mayest become a Political Power; and with the shakings of thy horse-hairwig shake principalities and dynasties, like a very Jove with hisambrosial curls! Light old M. De Maurepas, since the end of 1781, has been fixed in thefrost of death: "Never more, " said the good Louis, "shall I hear hisstep overhead;" his light jestings and gyratings are at an end. No morecan the importunate reality be hidden by pleasant wit, and today's evilbe deftly rolled over upon tomorrow. The morrow itself has arrived; andnow nothing but a solid phlegmatic M. De Vergennes sits there, in dullmatter of fact, like some dull punctual Clerk (which he originally was);admits what cannot be denied, let the remedy come whence it will. Inhim is no remedy; only clerklike 'despatch of business' according toroutine. The poor King, grown older yet hardly more experienced, musthimself, with such no-faculty as he has, begin governing; wherein alsohis Queen will give help. Bright Queen, with her quick clear glancesand impulses; clear, and even noble; but all too superficial, vehement-shallow, for that work! To govern France were such aproblem; and now it has grown well-nigh too hard to govern even theOeil-de-Boeuf. For if a distressed People has its cry, so likewise, and more audibly, has a bereaved Court. To the Oeil-de-Boeuf it remainsinconceivable how, in a France of such resources, the Horn of Plentyshould run dry: did it not use to flow? Nevertheless Necker, with hisrevenue of parsimony, has 'suppressed above six hundred places, ' beforethe Courtiers could oust him; parsimonious finance-pedant as he was. Again, a military pedant, Saint-Germain, with his Prussian manoeuvres;with his Prussian notions, as if merit and not coat-of-arms should bethe rule of promotion, has disaffected military men; the Mousquetaires, with much else are suppressed: for he too was one of your suppressors;and unsettling and oversetting, did mere mischief--to the Oeil-de-Boeuf. Complaints abound; scarcity, anxiety: it is a changed Oeil-de-Boeuf. Besenval says, already in these years (1781) there was such a melancholy(such a tristesse) about Court, compared with former days, as made itquite dispiriting to look upon. No wonder that the Oeil-de-Boeuf feels melancholy, when you aresuppressing its places! Not a place can be suppressed, but some purse isthe lighter for it; and more than one heart the heavier; for did itnot employ the working-classes too, --manufacturers, male and female, of laces, essences; of Pleasure generally, whosoever could manufacturePleasure? Miserable economies; never felt over Twenty-five Millions!So, however, it goes on: and is not yet ended. Few years more and theWolf-hounds shall fall suppressed, the Bear-hounds, the Falconry; placesshall fall, thick as autumnal leaves. Duke de Polignac demonstrates, tothe complete silencing of ministerial logic, that his place cannot beabolished; then gallantly, turning to the Queen, surrenders it, sinceher Majesty so wishes. Less chivalrous was Duke de Coigny, and yet notluckier: "We got into a real quarrel, Coigny and I, " said King Louis;"but if he had even struck me, I could not have blamed him. " (Besenval, iii. 255-58. ) In regard to such matters there can be but one opinion. Baron Besenval, with that frankness of speech which stamps theindependent man, plainly assures her Majesty that it is frightful(affreux); "you go to bed, and are not sure but you shall riseimpoverished on the morrow: one might as well be in Turkey. " It isindeed a dog's life. How singular this perpetual distress of the royal treasury! And yet itis a thing not more incredible than undeniable. A thing mournfully true:the stumbling-block on which all Ministers successively stumble, andfall. Be it 'want of fiscal genius, ' or some far other want, there isthe palpablest discrepancy between Revenue and Expenditure; a Deficitof the Revenue: you must 'choke (combler) the Deficit, ' or else it willswallow you! This is the stern problem; hopeless seemingly as squaringof the circle. Controller Joly de Fleury, who succeeded Necker, coulddo nothing with it; nothing but propose loans, which were tardily filledup; impose new taxes, unproductive of money, productive of clamour anddiscontent. As little could Controller d'Ormesson do, or even less; forif Joly maintained himself beyond year and day, d'Ormesson reckons onlyby months: till 'the King purchased Rambouillet without consulting him, 'which he took as a hint to withdraw. And so, towards the end of 1783, matters threaten to come to still-stand. Vain seems human ingenuity. In vain has our newly-devised 'Council of Finances' struggled, ourIntendants of Finance, Controller-General of Finances: there areunhappily no Finances to control. Fatal paralysis invades the socialmovement; clouds, of blindness or of blackness, envelop us: are webreaking down, then, into the black horrors of NATIONAL BANKRUPTCY? Great is Bankruptcy: the great bottomless gulf into which allFalsehoods, public and private, do sink, disappearing; whither, from thefirst origin of them, they were all doomed. For Nature is true and nota lie. No lie you can speak or act but it will come, after longer orshorter circulation, like a Bill drawn on Nature's Reality, and bepresented there for payment, --with the answer, No effects. Pity onlythat it often had so long a circulation: that the original forger wereso seldom he who bore the final smart of it! Lies, and the burden ofevil they bring, are passed on; shifted from back to back, and from rankto rank; and so land ultimately on the dumb lowest rank, who with spadeand mattock, with sore heart and empty wallet, daily come in contactwith reality, and can pass the cheat no further. Observe nevertheless how, by a just compensating law, if the lie withits burden (in this confused whirlpool of Society) sinks and is shiftedever downwards, then in return the distress of it rises ever upwardsand upwards. Whereby, after the long pining and demi-starvation of thoseTwenty Millions, a Duke de Coigny and his Majesty come also to havetheir 'real quarrel. ' Such is the law of just Nature; bringing, thoughat long intervals, and were it only by Bankruptcy, matters round againto the mark. But with a Fortunatus' Purse in his pocket, through what length oftime might not almost any Falsehood last! Your Society, your Household, practical or spiritual Arrangement, is untrue, unjust, offensive to theeye of God and man. Nevertheless its hearth is warm, its larder wellreplenished: the innumerable Swiss of Heaven, with a kind of Naturalloyalty, gather round it; will prove, by pamphleteering, musketeering, that it is a truth; or if not an unmixed (unearthly, impossible) Truth, then better, a wholesomely attempered one, (as wind is to the shornlamb), and works well. Changed outlook, however, when purse and lardergrow empty! Was your Arrangement so true, so accordant to Nature's ways, then how, in the name of wonder, has Nature, with her infinite bounty, come to leave it famishing there? To all men, to all women and allchildren, it is now indutiable that your Arrangement was false. Honourto Bankruptcy; ever righteous on the great scale, though in detail itis so cruel! Under all Falsehoods it works, unweariedly mining. NoFalsehood, did it rise heaven-high and cover the world, but Bankruptcy, one day, will sweep it down, and make us free of it. Chapter 1. 3. II. Controller Calonne. Under such circumstances of tristesse, obstruction and sick langour, when to an exasperated Court it seems as if fiscal genius had departedfrom among men, what apparition could be welcomer than that of M. DeCalonne? Calonne, a man of indisputable genius; even fiscal genius, moreor less; of experience both in managing Finance and Parlements, for hehas been Intendant at Metz, at Lille; King's Procureur at Douai. A manof weight, connected with the moneyed classes; of unstained name, --ifit were not some peccadillo (of showing a Client's Letter) in thatold D'Aiguillon-Lachalotais business, as good as forgotten now. Hehas kinsmen of heavy purse, felt on the Stock Exchange. Our Foulons, Berthiers intrigue for him:--old Foulon, who has now nothing to do butintrigue; who is known and even seen to be what they call a scoundrel;but of unmeasured wealth; who, from Commissariat-clerk which he oncewas, may hope, some think, if the game go right, to be Minister himselfone day. Such propping and backing has M. De Calonne; and then intrinsically suchqualities! Hope radiates from his face; persuasion hangs on his tongue. For all straits he has present remedy, and will make the world rollon wheels before him. On the 3d of November 1783, the Oeil-de-Boeufrejoices in its new Controller-General. Calonne also shall have trial;Calonne also, in his way, as Turgot and Necker had done in theirs, shallforward the consummation; suffuse, with one other flush of brilliancy, our now too leaden-coloured Era of Hope, and wind it up--intofulfilment. Great, in any case, is the felicity of the Oeil-de-Boeuf. Stinginess hasfled from these royal abodes: suppression ceases; your Besenval maygo peaceably to sleep, sure that he shall awake unplundered. SmilingPlenty, as if conjured by some enchanter, has returned; scatterscontentment from her new-flowing horn. And mark what suavity of manners!A bland smile distinguishes our Controller: to all men he listens withan air of interest, nay of anticipation; makes their own wish clear tothemselves, and grants it; or at least, grants conditional promiseof it. "I fear this is a matter of difficulty, " said herMajesty. --"Madame, " answered the Controller, "if it is but difficult, itis done, if it is impossible, it shall be done (se fera). " A man of such'facility' withal. To observe him in the pleasure-vortex of society, which none partakes of with more gusto, you might ask, When does hework? And yet his work, as we see, is never behindhand; above all, thefruit of his work: ready-money. Truly a man of incredible facility;facile action, facile elocution, facile thought: how, in mild suasion, philosophic depth sparkles up from him, as mere wit and lambentsprightliness; and in her Majesty's Soirees, with the weight of a worldlying on him, he is the delight of men and women! By what magic does heaccomplish miracles? By the only true magic, that of genius. Men namehim 'the Minister;' as indeed, when was there another such? Crookedthings are become straight by him, rough places plain; and over theOeil-de-Boeuf there rests an unspeakable sunshine. Nay, in seriousness, let no man say that Calonne had not genius: geniusfor Persuading; before all things, for Borrowing. With the skilfulestjudicious appliances of underhand money, he keeps the Stock-Exchangesflourishing; so that Loan after Loan is filled up as soon as opened. 'Calculators likely to know' (Besenval, iii. 216. ) have calculated thathe spent, in extraordinaries, 'at the rate of one million daily;' whichindeed is some fifty thousand pounds sterling: but did he not procuresomething with it; namely peace and prosperity, for the time being?Philosophedom grumbles and croaks; buys, as we said, 80, 000 copies ofNecker's new Book: but Nonpareil Calonne, in her Majesty's Apartment, with the glittering retinue of Dukes, Duchesses, and mere happy admiringfaces, can let Necker and Philosophedom croak. The misery is, such a time cannot last! Squandering, and Payment by Loanis no way to choke a Deficit. Neither is oil the substance for quenchingconflagrations;--but, only for assuaging them, not permanently! To theNonpareil himself, who wanted not insight, it is clear at intervals, and dimly certain at all times, that his trade is by nature temporary, growing daily more difficult; that changes incalculable lie at no greatdistance. Apart from financial Deficit, the world is wholly in such anew-fangled humour; all things working loose from their old fastenings, towards new issues and combinations. There is not a dwarf jokei, a croptBrutus'-head, or Anglomaniac horseman rising on his stirrups, thatdoes not betoken change. But what then? The day, in any case, passespleasantly; for the morrow, if the morrow come, there shall be counseltoo. Once mounted (by munificence, suasion, magic of genius) high enoughin favour with the Oeil-de-Boeuf, with the King, Queen, Stock-Exchange, and so far as possible with all men, a Nonpareil Controller may hopeto go careering through the Inevitable, in some unimagined way, ashandsomely as another. At all events, for these three miraculous years, it has been expedientheaped on expedient; till now, with such cumulation and height, the piletopples perilous. And here has this world's-wonder of a Diamond Necklacebrought it at last to the clear verge of tumbling. Genius in thatdirection can no more: mounted high enough, or not mounted, we must fareforth. Hardly is poor Rohan, the Necklace-Cardinal, safely bestowed inthe Auvergne Mountains, Dame de Lamotte (unsafely) in the Salpetriere, and that mournful business hushed up, when our sanguine Controller oncemore astonishes the world. An expedient, unheard of for these hundredand sixty years, has been propounded; and, by dint of suasion (forhis light audacity, his hope and eloquence are matchless) has been gotadopted, --Convocation of the Notables. Let notable persons, the actual or virtual rulers of their districts, be summoned from all sides of France: let a true tale, of his Majesty'spatriotic purposes and wretched pecuniary impossibilities, be suasivelytold them; and then the question put: What are we to do? Surely to adopthealing measures; such as the magic of genius will unfold; such as, oncesanctioned by Notables, all Parlements and all men must, with more orless reluctance, submit to. Chapter 1. 3. III. The Notables. Here, then is verily a sign and wonder; visible to the whole world;bodeful of much. The Oeil-de-Boeuf dolorously grumbles; were we notwell as we stood, --quenching conflagrations by oil? ConstitutionalPhilosophedom starts with joyful surprise; stares eagerly what theresult will be. The public creditor, the public debtor, the wholethinking and thoughtless public have their several surprises, joyfuland sorrowful. Count Mirabeau, who has got his matrimonial and otherLawsuits huddled up, better or worse; and works now in the dimmestelement at Berlin; compiling Prussian Monarchies, Pamphlets OnCagliostro; writing, with pay, but not with honourable recognition, innumerable Despatches for his Government, --scents or descries richerquarry from afar. He, like an eagle or vulture, or mixture of both, preens his wings for flight homewards. (Fils Adoptif, Memoires deMirabeau, t. Iv. Livv. 4 et 5. ) M. De Calonne has stretched out an Aaron's Rod over France; miraculous;and is summoning quite unexpected things. Audacity and hope alternate inhim with misgivings; though the sanguine-valiant side carries it. Anonhe writes to an intimate friend, "Here me fais pitie a moi-meme (I aman object of pity to myself);" anon, invites some dedicating Poet orPoetaster to sing 'this Assembly of the Notables and the Revolutionthat is preparing. ' (Biographie Universelle, para Calonne (by Guizot). )Preparing indeed; and a matter to be sung, --only not till we have seenit, and what the issue of it is. In deep obscure unrest, all thingshave so long gone rocking and swaying: will M. De Calonne, with thishis alchemy of the Notables, fasten all together again, and get newrevenues? Or wrench all asunder; so that it go no longer rocking andswaying, but clashing and colliding? Be this as it may, in the bleak short days, we behold men of weight andinfluence threading the great vortex of French Locomotion, each onhis several line, from all sides of France towards the Chateau ofVersailles: summoned thither de par le roi. There, on the 22d day ofFebruary 1787, they have met, and got installed: Notables to thenumber of a Hundred and Thirty-seven, as we count them name by name:(Lacretelle, iii. 286. Montgaillard, i. 347. ) add Seven Princes of theBlood, it makes the round Gross of Notables. Men of the sword, men ofthe robe; Peers, dignified Clergy, Parlementary Presidents: divided intoSeven Boards (Bureaux); under our Seven Princes of the Blood, Monsieur, D'Artois, Penthievre, and the rest; among whom let not our new Duked'Orleans (for, since 1785, he is Chartres no longer) be forgotten. Never yet made Admiral, and now turning the corner of his fortieth year, with spoiled blood and prospects; half-weary of a world which is morethan half-weary of him, Monseigneur's future is most questionable. Notin illumination and insight, not even in conflagration; but, as wassaid, 'in dull smoke and ashes of outburnt sensualities, ' does helive and digest. Sumptuosity and sordidness; revenge, life-weariness, ambition, darkness, putrescence; and, say, in sterling money, threehundred thousand a year, --were this poor Prince once to burst loose fromhis Court-moorings, to what regions, with what phenomena, might he notsail and drift! Happily as yet he 'affects to hunt daily;' sits there, since he must sit, presiding that Bureau of his, with dull moon-visage, dull glassy eyes, as if it were a mere tedium to him. We observe finally, that Count Mirabeau has actually arrived. Hedescends from Berlin, on the scene of action; glares into it withflashing sun-glance; discerns that it will do nothing for him. He hadhoped these Notables might need a Secretary. They do need one; buthave fixed on Dupont de Nemours; a man of smaller fame, but then ofbetter;--who indeed, as his friends often hear, labours under thiscomplaint, surely not a universal one, of having 'five kings tocorrespond with. ' (Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau (Paris, 1832), p. 20. )The pen of a Mirabeau cannot become an official one; neverthelessit remains a pen. In defect of Secretaryship, he sets to denouncingStock-brokerage (Denonciation de l'Agiotage); testifying, as his wontis, by loud bruit, that he is present and busy;--till, warned by friendTalleyrand, and even by Calonne himself underhand, that 'a seventeenthLettre-de-Cachet may be launched against him, ' he timefully flits overthe marches. And now, in stately royal apartments, as Pictures of that time stillrepresent them, our hundred and forty-four Notables sit organised; readyto hear and consider. Controller Calonne is dreadfully behindhand withhis speeches, his preparatives; however, the man's 'facility of work' isknown to us. For freshness of style, lucidity, ingenuity, largenessof view, that opening Harangue of his was unsurpassable:--had not thesubject-matter been so appalling. A Deficit, concerning which accountsvary, and the Controller's own account is not unquestioned; but whichall accounts agree in representing as 'enormous. ' This is the epitome ofour Controller's difficulties: and then his means? Mere Turgotism; forthither, it seems, we must come at last: Provincial Assemblies; newTaxation; nay, strangest of all, new Land-tax, what he calls SubventionTerritoriale, from which neither Privileged nor Unprivileged, Noblemen, Clergy, nor Parlementeers, shall be exempt! Foolish enough! These Privileged Classes have been used to tax; levyingtoll, tribute and custom, at all hands, while a penny was left: but tobe themselves taxed? Of such Privileged persons, meanwhile, do theseNotables, all but the merest fraction, consist. Headlong Calonne hadgiven no heed to the 'composition, ' or judicious packing of them; butchosen such Notables as were really notable; trusting for the issue tooff-hand ingenuity, good fortune, and eloquence that never yet failed. Headlong Controller-General! Eloquence can do much, but not all. Orpheus, with eloquence grown rhythmic, musical (what we call Poetry), drew iron tears from the cheek of Pluto: but by what witchery of rhymeor prose wilt thou from the pocket of Plutus draw gold? Accordingly, the storm that now rose and began to whistle round Calonne, first in these Seven Bureaus, and then on the outside of them, awakenedby them, spreading wider and wider over all France, threatens to becomeunappeasable. A Deficit so enormous! Mismanagement, profusion is tooclear. Peculation itself is hinted at; nay, Lafayette and others go sofar as to speak it out, with attempts at proof. The blame of his Deficitour brave Calonne, as was natural, had endeavoured to shift fromhimself on his predecessors; not excepting even Necker. But now Neckervehemently denies; whereupon an 'angry Correspondence, ' which also findsits way into print. In the Oeil-de-Boeuf, and her Majesty's private Apartments, an eloquentController, with his "Madame, if it is but difficult, " had beenpersuasive: but, alas, the cause is now carried elsewhither. Beholdhim, one of these sad days, in Monsieur's Bureau; to which all the otherBureaus have sent deputies. He is standing at bay: alone; exposed to anincessant fire of questions, interpellations, objurgations, from those'hundred and thirty-seven' pieces of logic-ordnance, --what we may wellcall bouches a feu, fire-mouths literally! Never, according to Besenval, or hardly ever, had such display of intellect, dexterity, coolness, suasive eloquence, been made by man. To the raging play of so manyfire-mouths he opposes nothing angrier than light-beams, self-possessionand fatherly smiles. With the imperturbablest bland clearness, he, forfive hours long, keeps answering the incessant volley of fiery captiousquestions, reproachful interpellations; in words prompt as lightning, quiet as light. Nay, the cross-fire too: such side questions andincidental interpellations as, in the heat of the main-battle, he(having only one tongue) could not get answered; these also he takesup at the first slake; answers even these. (Besenval, iii. 196. ) Couldblandest suasive eloquence have saved France, she were saved. Heavy-laden Controller! In the Seven Bureaus seems nothing buthindrance: in Monsieur's Bureau, a Lomenie de Brienne, Archbishopof Toulouse, with an eye himself to the Controllership, stirs up theClergy; there are meetings, underground intrigues. Neither from withoutanywhere comes sign of help or hope. For the Nation (where Mirabeau isnow, with stentor-lungs, 'denouncing Agio') the Controller has hithertodone nothing, or less. For Philosophedom he has done as good asnothing, --sent out some scientific Laperouse, or the like: and is he notin 'angry correspondence' with its Necker? The very Oeil-de-Boeuflooks questionable; a falling Controller has no friends. Solid M. DeVergennes, who with his phlegmatic judicious punctuality might have keptdown many things, died the very week before these sorrowful Notablesmet. And now a Seal-keeper, Garde-des-Sceaux Miromenil is thought to beplaying the traitor: spinning plots for Lomenie-Brienne! Queen's-ReaderAbbe de Vermond, unloved individual, was Brienne's creature, the workof his hands from the first: it may be feared the backstairs passage isopen, ground getting mined under our feet. Treacherous Garde-des-SceauxMiromenil, at least, should be dismissed; Lamoignon, theeloquent Notable, a stanch man, with connections, and even ideas, Parlement-President yet intent on reforming Parlements, were not he theright Keeper? So, for one, thinks busy Besenval; and, at dinner-table, rounds the same into the Controller's ear, --who always, in the intervalsof landlord-duties, listens to him as with charmed look, but answersnothing positive. (Besenval, iii. 203. ) Alas, what to answer? The force of private intrigue, and then also theforce of public opinion, grows so dangerous, confused! Philosophedomsneers aloud, as if its Necker already triumphed. The gaping populacegapes over Wood-cuts or Copper-cuts; where, for example, a Rustic isrepresented convoking the poultry of his barnyard, with this openingaddress: "Dear animals, I have assembled you to advise me what sauce Ishall dress you with;" to which a Cock responding, "We don't want to beeaten, " is checked by "You wander from the point (Vous vous ecartezde la question). " (Republished in the Musee de la Caricature (Paris, 1834). ) Laughter and logic; ballad-singer, pamphleteer; epigram andcaricature: what wind of public opinion is this, --as if the Cave of theWinds were bursting loose! At nightfall, President Lamoignon stealsover to the Controller's; finds him 'walking with large strides in hischamber, like one out of himself. ' (Besenval, iii. 209. ) With rapidconfused speech the Controller begs M. De Lamoignon to give him 'anadvice. ' Lamoignon candidly answers that, except in regard to his ownanticipated Keepership, unless that would prove remedial, he reallycannot take upon him to advise. 'On the Monday after Easter, ' the 9th of April 1787, a date one rejoicesto verify, for nothing can excel the indolent falsehood of theseHistoires and Memoires, --'On the Monday after Easter, as I, Besenval, was riding towards Romainville to the Marechal de Segur's, I met afriend on the Boulevards, who told me that M. De Calonne was out. Alittle further on came M. The Duke d'Orleans, dashing towards me, headto the wind' (trotting a l'Anglaise), 'and confirmed the news. ' (Ib. Iii. 211. ) It is true news. Treacherous Garde-des-Sceaux Miromenil isgone, and Lamoignon is appointed in his room: but appointed for his ownprofit only, not for the Controller's: 'next day' the Controller alsohas had to move. A little longer he may linger near; be seen among themoney changers, and even 'working in the Controller's office, ' wheremuch lies unfinished: but neither will that hold. Too strong blows andbeats this tempest of public opinion, of private intrigue, as from theCave of all the Winds; and blows him (higher Authority giving sign)out of Paris and France, --over the horizon, into Invisibility, or uuter(utter, outer?) Darkness. Such destiny the magic of genius could not forever avert. UngratefulOeil-de-Boeuf! did he not miraculously rain gold manna on you; so that, as a Courtier said, "All the world held out its hand, and I held out myhat, "--for a time? Himself is poor; penniless, had not a 'Financier'swidow in Lorraine' offered him, though he was turned of fifty, her handand the rich purse it held. Dim henceforth shall be his activity, thoughunwearied: Letters to the King, Appeals, Prognostications; Pamphlets(from London), written with the old suasive facility; which however donot persuade. Luckily his widow's purse fails not. Once, in a year ortwo, some shadow of him shall be seen hovering on the Northern Border, seeking election as National Deputy; but be sternly beckoned away. Dimmer then, far-borne over utmost European lands, in uncertain twilightof diplomacy, he shall hover, intriguing for 'Exiled Princes, ' andhave adventures; be overset into the Rhine stream and half-drowned, nevertheless save his papers dry. Unwearied, but in vain! In France heworks miracles no more; shall hardly return thither to find a grave. Farewell, thou facile sanguine Controller-General, with thy light rashhand, thy suasive mouth of gold: worse men there have been, and better;but to thee also was allotted a task, --of raising the wind, and thewinds; and thou hast done it. But now, while Ex-Controller Calonne flies storm-driven over thehorizon, in this singular way, what has become of the Controllership?It hangs vacant, one may say; extinct, like the Moon in her vacantinterlunar cave. Two preliminary shadows, poor M. Fourqueux, poorM. Villedeuil, do hold in quick succession some simulacrum of it, (Besenval, iii. 225. )--as the new Moon will sometimes shine out with adim preliminary old one in her arms. Be patient, ye Notables! An actualnew Controller is certain, and even ready; were the indispensablemanoeuvres but gone through. Long-headed Lamoignon, with Home SecretaryBreteuil, and Foreign Secretary Montmorin have exchanged looks; letthese three once meet and speak. Who is it that is strong in the Queen'sfavour, and the Abbe de Vermond's? That is a man of great capacity?Or at least that has struggled, these fifty years, to have it thoughtgreat; now, in the Clergy's name, demanding to have Protestantdeath-penalties 'put in execution;' no flaunting it in theOeil-de-Boeuf, as the gayest man-pleaser and woman-pleaser; gleaningeven a good word from Philosophedom and your Voltaires and D'Alemberts?With a party ready-made for him in the Notables?--Lomenie de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse! answer all the three, with the clearestinstantaneous concord; and rush off to propose him to the King; 'in suchhaste, ' says Besenval, 'that M. De Lamoignon had to borrow a simarre, 'seemingly some kind of cloth apparatus necessary for that. (Ib. Iii. 224. ) Lomenie-Brienne, who had all his life 'felt a kind of predestination forthe highest offices, ' has now therefore obtained them. He presides overthe Finances; he shall have the title of Prime Minister itself, andthe effort of his long life be realised. Unhappy only that it took suchtalent and industry to gain the place; that to qualify for it hardly anytalent or industry was left disposable! Looking now into his innerman, what qualification he may have, Lomenie beholds, not withoutastonishment, next to nothing but vacuity and possibility. Principles ormethods, acquirement outward or inward (for his very body is wasted, byhard tear and wear) he finds none; not so much as a plan, even anunwise one. Lucky, in these circumstances, that Calonne has had a plan!Calonne's plan was gathered from Turgot's and Necker's by compilation;shall become Lomenie's by adoption. Not in vain has Lomenie studiedthe working of the British Constitution; for he professes to have someAnglomania, of a sort. Why, in that free country, does one Minister, driven out by Parliament, vanish from his King's presence, and anotherenter, borne in by Parliament? (Montgaillard, Histoire de France, i. 410-17. ) Surely not for mere change (which is ever wasteful); but thatall men may have share of what is going; and so the strife of Freedomindefinitely prolong itself, and no harm be done. The Notables, mollified by Easter festivities, by the sacrifice ofCalonne, are not in the worst humour. Already his Majesty, while the'interlunar shadows' were in office, had held session of Notables; andfrom his throne delivered promissory conciliatory eloquence: 'The Queenstood waiting at a window, till his carriage came back; and Monsieurfrom afar clapped hands to her, ' in sign that all was well. (Besenval, iii. 220. ) It has had the best effect; if such do but last. LeadingNotables meanwhile can be 'caressed;' Brienne's new gloss, Lamoignon'slong head will profit somewhat; conciliatory eloquence shall not bewanting. On the whole, however, is it not undeniable that this ofousting Calonne and adopting the plans of Calonne, is a measure which, to produce its best effect, should be looked at from a certain distance, cursorily; not dwelt on with minute near scrutiny. In a word, that noservice the Notables could now do were so obliging as, in some handsomemanner, to--take themselves away! Their 'Six Propositions' aboutProvisional Assemblies, suppression of Corvees and suchlike, can beaccepted without criticism. The Subvention on Land-tax, and muchelse, one must glide hastily over; safe nowhere but in flourishes ofconciliatory eloquence. Till at length, on this 25th of May, year1787, in solemn final session, there bursts forth what we can call anexplosion of eloquence; King, Lomenie, Lamoignon and retinue taking upthe successive strain; in harrangues to the number of ten, besides hisMajesty's, which last the livelong day;--whereby, as in a kind of choralanthem, or bravura peal, of thanks, praises, promises, the Notables are, so to speak, organed out, and dismissed to their respective places ofabode. They had sat, and talked, some nine weeks: they were the firstNotables since Richelieu's, in the year 1626. By some Historians, sitting much at their ease, in the safe distance, Lomenie has been blamed for this dismissal of his Notables: neverthelessit was clearly time. There are things, as we said, which should not bedwelt on with minute close scrutiny: over hot coals you cannot glide toofast. In these Seven Bureaus, where no work could be done, unless talkwere work, the questionablest matters were coming up. Lafayette, forexample, in Monseigneur d'Artois' Bureau, took upon him to set forthmore than one deprecatory oration about Lettres-de-Cachet, Libertyof the Subject, Agio, and suchlike; which Monseigneur endeavouring torepress, was answered that a Notable being summoned to speak his opinionmust speak it. (Montgaillard, i. 360. ) Thus too his Grace the Archbishop of Aix perorating once, with aplaintive pulpit tone, in these words? "Tithe, that free-will offeringof the piety of Christians"--"Tithe, " interrupted Duke la Rochefoucault, with the cold business-manner he has learned from the English, "thatfree-will offering of the piety of Christians; on which there are nowforty-thousand lawsuits in this realm. " (Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 21. ) Nay, Lafayette, bound to speak his opinion, went the length, one day, of proposing to convoke a 'National Assembly. ' "Youdemand States-General?" asked Monseigneur with an air of minatorysurprise. --"Yes, Monseigneur; and even better than that. "--"Write it, "said Monseigneur to the Clerks. (Toulongeon, Histoire de France depuisla Revolution de 1789 (Paris, 1803), i. App. 4. )--Written accordingly itis; and what is more, will be acted by and by. Chapter 1. 3. IV. Lomenie's Edicts. Thus, then, have the Notables returned home; carrying to all quartersof France, such notions of deficit, decrepitude, distraction; and thatStates-General will cure it, or will not cure it but kill it. EachNotable, we may fancy, is as a funeral torch; disclosing hideousabysses, better left hid! The unquietest humour possesses all men;ferments, seeks issue, in pamphleteering, caricaturing, projecting, declaiming; vain jangling of thought, word and deed. It is Spiritual Bankruptcy, long tolerated; verging now towardsEconomical Bankruptcy, and become intolerable. For from the lowest dumbrank, the inevitable misery, as was predicted, has spread upwards. Inevery man is some obscure feeling that his position, oppressive or elseoppressed, is a false one: all men, in one or the other acrid dialect, as assaulters or as defenders, must give vent to the unrest that is inthem. Of such stuff national well-being, and the glory of rulers, is notmade. O Lomenie, what a wild-heaving, waste-looking, hungry and angryworld hast thou, after lifelong effort, got promoted to take charge of! Lomenie's first Edicts are mere soothing ones: creation of ProvincialAssemblies, 'for apportioning the imposts, ' when we get any; suppressionof Corvees or statute-labour; alleviation of Gabelle. Soothing measures, recommended by the Notables; long clamoured for by all liberal men. Oil cast on the waters has been known to produce a good effect. Beforeventuring with great essential measures, Lomenie will see this singular'swell of the public mind' abate somewhat. Most proper, surely. But what if it were not a swell of the abatingkind? There are swells that come of upper tempest and wind-gust. Butagain there are swells that come of subterranean pent wind, somesay; and even of inward decomposion, of decay that has becomeself-combustion:--as when, according to Neptuno-Plutonic Geology, theWorld is all decayed down into due attritus of this sort; and shall nowbe exploded, and new-made! These latter abate not by oil. --The foolsays in his heart, How shall not tomorrow be as yesterday; as alldays, --which were once tomorrows? The wise man, looking on this France, moral, intellectual, economical, sees, 'in short, all the symptoms hehas ever met with in history, '--unabatable by soothing Edicts. Meanwhile, abate or not, cash must be had; and for that quite anothersort of Edicts, namely 'bursal' or fiscal ones. How easy were fiscalEdicts, did you know for certain that the Parlement of Paris would whatthey call 'register' them! Such right of registering, properly of merewriting down, the Parlement has got by old wont; and, though but aLaw-Court, can remonstrate, and higgle considerably about the same. Hence many quarrels; desperate Maupeou devices, and victory anddefeat;--a quarrel now near forty years long. Hence fiscal Edicts, whichotherwise were easy enough, become such problems. For example, is therenot Calonne's Subvention Territoriale, universal, unexempting Land-tax;the sheet-anchor of Finance? Or, to show, so far as possible, that oneis not without original finance talent, Lomenie himself can devise anEdit du Timbre or Stamp-tax, --borrowed also, it is true; but then fromAmerica: may it prove luckier in France than there! France has her resources: nevertheless, it cannot be denied, the aspectof that Parlement is questionable. Already among the Notables, in thatfinal symphony of dismissal, the Paris President had an ominous tone. Adrien Duport, quitting magnetic sleep, in this agitation of the world, threatens to rouse himself into preternatural wakefulness. Shallower butalso louder, there is magnetic D'Espremenil, with his tropical heat(he was born at Madras); with his dusky confused violence; holdingof Illumination, Animal Magnetism, Public Opinion, Adam Weisshaupt, Harmodius and Aristogiton, and all manner of confused violent things: ofwhom can come no good. The very Peerage is infected with the leaven. OurPeers have, in too many cases, laid aside their frogs, laces, bagwigs;and go about in English costume, or ride rising in their stirrups, --inthe most headlong manner; nothing but insubordination, eleutheromania, confused unlimited opposition in their heads. Questionable: not to beventured upon, if we had a Fortunatus' Purse! But Lomenie has waited allJune, casting on the waters what oil he had; and now, betide as it may, the two Finance Edicts must out. On the 6th of July, he forwards hisproposed Stamp-tax and Land-tax to the Parlement of Paris; and, as ifputting his own leg foremost, not his borrowed Calonne's-leg, places theStamp-tax first in order. Alas, the Parlement will not register: the Parlement demands instead a'state of the expenditure, ' a 'state of the contemplated reductions;''states' enough; which his Majesty must decline to furnish! Discussionsarise; patriotic eloquence: the Peers are summoned. Does the Nemean Lionbegin to bristle? Here surely is a duel, which France and the Universemay look upon: with prayers; at lowest, with curiosity and bets. Parisstirs with new animation. The outer courts of the Palais de Justice rollwith unusual crowds, coming and going; their huge outer hum mingles withthe clang of patriotic eloquence within, and gives vigour to it. PoorLomenie gazes from the distance, little comforted; has his invisibleemissaries flying to and fro, assiduous, without result. So pass the sultry dog-days, in the most electric manner; and the wholemonth of July. And still, in the Sanctuary of Justice, sounds nothingbut Harmodius-Aristogiton eloquence, environed with the hum of crowdingParis; and no registering accomplished, and no 'states' furnished. "States?" said a lively Parlementeer: "Messieurs, the states that shouldbe furnished us, in my opinion are the STATES-GENERAL. " On which timelyjoke there follow cachinnatory buzzes of approval. What a word to bespoken in the Palais de Justice! Old D'Ormesson (the Ex-Controller'suncle) shakes his judicious head; far enough from laughing. But theouter courts, and Paris and France, catch the glad sound, and repeatit; shall repeat it, and re-echo and reverberate it, till it grow adeafening peal. Clearly enough here is no registering to be thought of. The pious Proverb says, 'There are remedies for all things but death. 'When a Parlement refuses registering, the remedy, by long practice, hasbecome familiar to the simplest: a Bed of Justice. One complete monththis Parlement has spent in mere idle jargoning, and sound and fury; theTimbre Edict not registered, or like to be; the Subvention not yet somuch as spoken of. On the 6th of August let the whole refractoryBody roll out, in wheeled vehicles, as far as the King's Chateau ofVersailles; there shall the King, holding his Bed of Justice, orderthem, by his own royal lips, to register. They may remonstrate, in anunder tone; but they must obey, lest a worse unknown thing befall them. It is done: the Parlement has rolled out, on royal summons; has heardthe express royal order to register. Whereupon it has rolled back again, amid the hushed expectancy of men. And now, behold, on the morrow, thisParlement, seated once more in its own Palais, with 'crowds inundatingthe outer courts, ' not only does not register, but (O portent!) declaresall that was done on the prior day to be null, and the Bed of Justiceas good as a futility! In the history of France here verily is a newfeature. Nay better still, our heroic Parlement, getting suddenlyenlightened on several things, declares that, for its part, it isincompetent to register Tax-edicts at all, --having done it by mistake, during these late centuries; that for such act one authority only iscompetent: the assembled Three Estates of the Realm! To such length can the universal spirit of a Nation penetrate the mostisolated Body-corporate: say rather, with such weapons, homicidal andsuicidal, in exasperated political duel, will Bodies-corporate fight!But, in any case, is not this the real death-grapple of war andinternecine duel, Greek meeting Greek; whereon men, had they even nointerest in it, might look with interest unspeakable? Crowds, as wassaid, inundate the outer courts: inundation of young eleutheromaniacNoblemen in English costume, uttering audacious speeches; of Procureurs, Basoche-Clerks, who are idle in these days: of Loungers, Newsmongers andother nondescript classes, --rolls tumultuous there. 'From three to fourthousand persons, ' waiting eagerly to hear the Arretes (Resolutions) youarrive at within; applauding with bravos, with the clapping of from sixto eight thousand hands! Sweet also is the meed of patriotic eloquence, when your D'Espremenil, your Freteau, or Sabatier, issuing from hisDemosthenic Olympus, the thunder being hushed for the day, is welcomed, in the outer courts, with a shout from four thousand throats; is bornehome shoulder-high 'with benedictions, ' and strikes the stars with hissublime head. Chapter 1. 3. V. Lomenie's Thunderbolts. Arise, Lomenie-Brienne: here is no case for 'Letters of Jussion;' forfaltering or compromise. Thou seest the whole loose fluent populationof Paris (whatsoever is not solid, and fixed to work) inundating theseouter courts, like a loud destructive deluge; the very Basoche ofLawyers' Clerks talks sedition. The lower classes, in this duel ofAuthority with Authority, Greek throttling Greek, have ceased to respectthe City-Watch: Police-satellites are marked on the back with chalk (theM signifies mouchard, spy); they are hustled, hunted like ferae naturae. Subordinate rural Tribunals send messengers of congratulation, ofadherence. Their Fountain of Justice is becoming a Fountain of Revolt. The Provincial Parlements look on, with intent eye, with breathlesswishes, while their elder sister of Paris does battle: the whole Twelveare of one blood and temper; the victory of one is that of all. Ever worse it grows: on the 10th of August, there is 'Plainte' emittedtouching the 'prodigalities of Calonne, ' and permission to 'proceed'against him. No registering, but instead of it, denouncing:of dilapidation, peculation; and ever the burden of the song, States-General! Have the royal armories no thunderbolt, that thoucouldst, O Lomenie, with red right-hand, launch it among theseDemosthenic theatrical thunder-barrels, mere resin and noise for mostpart;--and shatter, and smite them silent? On the night of the 14th ofAugust, Lomenie launches his thunderbolt, or handful of them. Lettersnamed of the Seal (de Cachet), as many as needful, some sixscore andodd, are delivered overnight. And so, next day betimes, the wholeParlement, once more set on wheels, is rolling incessantly towardsTroyes in Champagne; 'escorted, ' says History, 'with the blessings ofall people;' the very innkeepers and postillions looking gratuitouslyreverent. (A. Lameth, Histoire de l'Assemblee Constituante (Int. 73). )This is the 15th of August 1787. What will not people bless; in their extreme need? Seldom had theParlement of Paris deserved much blessing, or received much. An isolatedBody-corporate, which, out of old confusions (while the Sceptre of theSword was confusedly struggling to become a Sceptre of the Pen), had gotitself together, better and worse, as Bodies-corporate do, to satisfysome dim desire of the world, and many clear desires of individuals; andso had grown, in the course of centuries, on concession, on acquirementand usurpation, to be what we see it: a prosperous social Anomaly, deciding Lawsuits, sanctioning or rejecting Laws; and withal disposingof its places and offices by sale for ready money, --which methodsleek President Henault, after meditation, will demonstrate to be theindifferent-best. (Abrege Chronologique, p. 975. ) In such a Body, existing by purchase for ready-money, there could notbe excess of public spirit; there might well be excess of eagerness todivide the public spoil. Men in helmets have divided that, with swords;men in wigs, with quill and inkhorn, do divide it: and even morehatefully these latter, if more peaceably; for the wig-method is at onceirresistibler and baser. By long experience, says Besenval, it has beenfound useless to sue a Parlementeer at law; no Officer of Justice willserve a writ on one; his wig and gown are his Vulcan's-panoply, hisenchanted cloak-of-darkness. The Parlement of Paris may count itself an unloved body; mean, notmagnanimous, on the political side. Were the King weak, always (as now)has his Parlement barked, cur-like at his heels; with what popular crythere might be. Were he strong, it barked before his face; hunting forhim as his alert beagle. An unjust Body; where foul influences have morethan once worked shameful perversion of judgment. Does not, in thesevery days, the blood of murdered Lally cry aloud for vengeance? Baited, circumvented, driven mad like the snared lion, Valour had to sinkextinguished under vindictive Chicane. Behold him, that hapless Lally, his wild dark soul looking through his wild dark face; trailed on theignominious death-hurdle; the voice of his despair choked by a woodengag! The wild fire-soul that has known only peril and toil; and, forthreescore years, has buffeted against Fate's obstruction and men'sperfidy, like genius and courage amid poltroonery, dishonesty andcommonplace; faithfully enduring and endeavouring, --O Parlement ofParis, dost thou reward it with a gibbet and a gag? (9th May, 1766:Biographie Universelle, para Lally. ) The dying Lally bequeathed hismemory to his boy; a young Lally has arisen, demanding redress in thename of God and man. The Parlement of Paris does its utmost to defendthe indefensible, abominable; nay, what is singular, dusky-glowingAristogiton d'Espremenil is the man chosen to be its spokesman in that. Such Social Anomaly is it that France now blesses. An unclean SocialAnomaly; but in duel against another worse! The exiled Parlement is feltto have 'covered itself with glory. ' There are quarrels in which evenSatan, bringing help, were not unwelcome; even Satan, fighting stiffly, might cover himself with glory, --of a temporary sort. But what a stir in the outer courts of the Palais, when Paris finds itsParlement trundled off to Troyes in Champagne; and nothing left but afew mute Keepers of records; the Demosthenic thunder become extinct, themartyrs of liberty clean gone! Confused wail and menace rises from thefour thousand throats of Procureurs, Basoche-Clerks, Nondescripts, andAnglomaniac Noblesse; ever new idlers crowd to see and hear; Rascality, with increasing numbers and vigour, hunts mouchards. Loud whirlpoolrolls through these spaces; the rest of the City, fixed to its work, cannot yet go rolling. Audacious placards are legible, in and aboutthe Palais, the speeches are as good as seditious. Surely the temperof Paris is much changed. On the third day of this business (18th ofAugust), Monsieur and Monseigneur d'Artois, coming in state-carriages, according to use and wont, to have these late obnoxious Arretes andprotests 'expunged' from the Records, are received in the most markedmanner. Monsieur, who is thought to be in opposition, is met with vivatsand strewed flowers; Monseigneur, on the other hand, with silence; withmurmurs, which rise to hisses and groans; nay, an irreverent Rascalitypresses towards him in floods, with such hissing vehemence, thatthe Captain of the Guards has to give order, "Haut les armes (Handlearms)!"--at which thunder-word, indeed, and the flash of the cleariron, the Rascal-flood recoils, through all avenues, fast enough. (Montgaillard, i. 369. Besenval, &c. ) New features these. Indeed, asgood M. De Malesherbes pertinently remarks, "it is a quite new kindof contest this with the Parlement:" no transitory sputter, as fromcollision of hard bodies; but more like "the first sparks of what, ifnot quenched, may become a great conflagration. " (Montgaillard, i. 373. ) This good Malesherbes sees himself now again in the King's Council, after an absence of ten years: Lomenie would profit if not by thefaculties of the man, yet by the name he has. As for the man's opinion, it is not listened to;--wherefore he will soon withdraw, a second time;back to his books and his trees. In such King's Council what can a goodman profit? Turgot tries it not a second time: Turgot has quitted Franceand this Earth, some years ago; and now cares for none of these things. Singular enough: Turgot, this same Lomenie, and the Abbe Morellet wereonce a trio of young friends; fellow-scholars in the Sorbonne. Forty newyears have carried them severally thus far. Meanwhile the Parlement sits daily at Troyes, calling cases; and dailyadjourns, no Procureur making his appearance to plead. Troyes is ashospitable as could be looked for: nevertheless one has comparativelya dull life. No crowds now to carry you, shoulder-high, to the immortalgods; scarcely a Patriot or two will drive out so far, and bid you be offirm courage. You are in furnished lodgings, far from home and domesticcomfort: little to do, but wander over the unlovely Champagne fields;seeing the grapes ripen; taking counsel about the thousand-timesconsulted: a prey to tedium; in danger even that Paris may forget you. Messengers come and go: pacific Lomenie is not slack in negotiating, promising; D'Ormesson and the prudent elder Members see no good instrife. After a dull month, the Parlement, yielding and retaining, makes truce, as all Parlements must. The Stamp-tax is withdrawn: the SubventionLand-tax is also withdrawn; but, in its stead, there is granted, whatthey call a 'Prorogation of the Second Twentieth, '--itself a kind ofLand-tax, but not so oppressive to the Influential classes; which liesmainly on the Dumb class. Moreover, secret promises exist (on the partof the Elders), that finances may be raised by Loan. Of the ugly wordStates-General there shall be no mention. And so, on the 20th of September, our exiled Parlement returns:D'Espremenil said, 'it went out covered with glory, but had come backcovered with mud (de boue). ' Not so, Aristogiton; or if so, thou surelyart the man to clean it. Chapter 1. 3. VI. Lomenie's Plots. Was ever unfortunate Chief Minister so bested as Lomenie-Brienne? Thereins of the State fairly in his hand these six months; and not thesmallest motive-power (of Finance) to stir from the spot with, thisway or that! He flourishes his whip, but advances not. Insteadof ready-money, there is nothing but rebellious debating andrecalcitrating. Far is the public mind from having calmed; it goes chafing and fumingever worse: and in the royal coffers, with such yearly Deficitrunning on, there is hardly the colour of coin. Ominous prognostics!Malesherbes, seeing an exhausted, exasperated France grow hotter andhotter, talks of 'conflagration:' Mirabeau, without talk, has, as weperceive, descended on Paris again, close on the rear of the Parlement, (Fils Adoptif, Mirabeau, iv. L. 5. )--not to quit his native soil anymore. Over the Frontiers, behold Holland invaded by Prussia; (October, 1787. Montgaillard, i. 374. Besenval, iii. 283. ) the French party oppressed, England and the Stadtholder triumphing: to the sorrow of War-SecretaryMontmorin and all men. But without money, sinews of war, as of work, andof existence itself, what can a Chief Minister do? Taxes profit little:this of the Second Twentieth falls not due till next year; and willthen, with its 'strict valuation, ' produce more controversy thancash. Taxes on the Privileged Classes cannot be got registered; areintolerable to our supporters themselves: taxes on the Unprivilegedyield nothing, --as from a thing drained dry more cannot be drawn. Hopeis nowhere, if not in the old refuge of Loans. To Lomenie, aided by the long head of Lamoignon, deeply pondering thissea of troubles, the thought suggested itself: Why not have a SuccessiveLoan (Emprunt Successif), or Loan that went on lending, year after year, as much as needful; say, till 1792? The trouble of registering such Loanwere the same: we had then breathing time; money to work with, atleast to subsist on. Edict of a Successive Loan must be proposed. Toconciliate the Philosophes, let a liberal Edict walk in front of it, foremancipation of Protestants; let a liberal Promise guard the rear of it, that when our Loan ends, in that final 1792, the States-General shall beconvoked. Such liberal Edict of Protestant Emancipation, the time having come forit, shall cost a Lomenie as little as the 'Death-penalties to be put inexecution' did. As for the liberal Promise, of States-General, it can befulfilled or not: the fulfilment is five good years off; in fiveyears much intervenes. But the registering? Ah, truly, there is thedifficulty!--However, we have that promise of the Elders, given secretlyat Troyes. Judicious gratuities, cajoleries, underground intrigues, withold Foulon, named 'Ame damnee, Familiar-demon, of the Parlement, 'may perhaps do the rest. At worst and lowest, the Royal Authority hasresources, --which ought it not to put forth? If it cannot realisemoney, the Royal Authority is as good as dead; dead of that surest andmiserablest death, inanition. Risk and win; without risk all is alreadylost! For the rest, as in enterprises of pith, a touch of stratagemoften proves furthersome, his Majesty announces a Royal Hunt, for the19th of November next; and all whom it concerns are joyfully gettingtheir gear ready. Royal Hunt indeed; but of two-legged unfeathered game! At eleven in themorning of that Royal-Hunt day, 19th of November 1787, unexpected blareof trumpetting, tumult of charioteering and cavalcading disturbs theSeat of Justice: his Majesty is come, with Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon, and Peers and retinue, to hold Royal Session and have Edicts registered. What a change, since Louis XIV. Entered here, in boots; and, whip inhand, ordered his registering to be done, --with an Olympian look whichnone durst gainsay; and did, without stratagem, in such unceremoniousfashion, hunt as well as register! (Dulaure, vi. 306. ) For Louis XVI. , on this day, the Registering will be enough; if indeed he and the daysuffice for it. Meanwhile, with fit ceremonial words, the purpose of the royal breastis signified:--Two Edicts, for Protestant Emancipation, for SuccessiveLoan: of both which Edicts our trusty Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon willexplain the purport; on both which a trusty Parlement is requested todeliver its opinion, each member having free privilege of speech. Andso, Lamoignon too having perorated not amiss, and wound up with thatPromise of States-General, --the Sphere-music of Parlementary eloquencebegins. Explosive, responsive, sphere answering sphere, it waxes louderand louder. The Peers sit attentive; of diverse sentiment: unfriendly toStates-General; unfriendly to Despotism, which cannot reward merit, andis suppressing places. But what agitates his Highness d'Orleans? Therubicund moon-head goes wagging; darker beams the copper visage, likeunscoured copper; in the glazed eye is disquietude; he rolls uneasy inhis seat, as if he meant something. Amid unutterable satiety, has suddennew appetite, for new forbidden fruit, been vouchsafed him? Disgustand edacity; laziness that cannot rest; futile ambition, revenge, non-admiralship:--O, within that carbuncled skin what a confusion ofconfusions sits bottled! 'Eight Couriers, ' in course of the day, gallop from Versailles, whereLomenie waits palpitating; and gallop back again, not with the bestnews. In the outer Courts of the Palais, huge buzz of expectationreigns; it is whispered the Chief Minister has lost six votes overnight. And from within, resounds nothing but forensic eloquence, pathetic andeven indignant; heartrending appeals to the royal clemency, that hisMajesty would please to summon States-General forthwith, and be theSaviour of France:--wherein dusky-glowing D'Espremenil, but still moreSabatier de Cabre, and Freteau, since named Commere Freteau (GoodyFreteau), are among the loudest. For six mortal hours it lasts, in thismanner; the infinite hubbub unslackened. And so now, when brown dusk is falling through the windows, and no endvisible, his Majesty, on hint of Garde-des-Sceaux, Lamoignon, opens hisroyal lips once more to say, in brief That he must have his Loan-Edictregistered. --Momentary deep pause!--See! Monseigneur d'Orleans rises;with moon-visage turned towards the royal platform, he asks, with adelicate graciosity of manner covering unutterable things: "Whether itis a Bed of Justice, then; or a Royal Session?" Fire flashes on him fromthe throne and neighbourhood: surly answer that "it is a Session. " Inthat case, Monseigneur will crave leave to remark that Edicts cannotbe registered by order in a Session; and indeed to enter, against suchregistry, his individual humble Protest. "Vous etes bien le maitre (Youwill do your pleasure)", answers the King; and thereupon, in high state, marches out, escorted by his Court-retinue; D'Orleans himself, asin duty bound, escorting him, but only to the gate. Which duty done, D'Orleans returns in from the gate; redacts his Protest, in the faceof an applauding Parlement, an applauding France; and so--has cut hisCourt-moorings, shall we say? And will now sail and drift, fast enough, towards Chaos? Thou foolish D'Orleans; Equality that art to be! Is Royalty grown a merewooden Scarecrow; whereon thou, pert scald-headed crow, mayest alight atpleasure, and peck? Not yet wholly. Next day, a Lettre-de-Cachet sends D'Orleans to bethink himself in hisChateau of Villers-Cotterets, where, alas, is no Paris with itsjoyous necessaries of life; no fascinating indispensable Madamede Buffon, --light wife of a great Naturalist much too old for her. Monseigneur, it is said, does nothing but walk distractedly, atVillers-Cotterets; cursing his stars. Versailles itself shall hearpenitent wail from him, so hard is his doom. By a second, simultaneousLettre-de-Cachet, Goody Freteau is hurled into the Stronghold of Ham, amid the Norman marshes; by a third, Sabatier de Cabre into Mont St. Michel, amid the Norman quicksands. As for the Parlement, it must, onsummons, travel out to Versailles, with its Register-Book under its arm, to have the Protest biffe (expunged); not without admonition, and evenrebuke. A stroke of authority which, one might have hoped, would quietmatters. Unhappily, no; it is a mere taste of the whip to rearing coursers, which makes them rear worse! When a team of Twenty-five Millions beginsrearing, what is Lomenie's whip? The Parlement will nowise acquiescemeekly; and set to register the Protestant Edict, and do its other work, in salutary fear of these three Lettres-de-Cachet. Far from that, it begins questioning Lettres-de-Cachet generally, their legality, endurability; emits dolorous objurgation, petition on petition to haveits three Martyrs delivered; cannot, till that be complied with, so muchas think of examining the Protestant Edict, but puts it off always 'tillthis day week. ' (Besenval, iii. 309. ) In which objurgatory strain Paris and France joins it, or rather haspreceded it; making fearful chorus. And now also the other Parlements, at length opening their mouths, begin to join; some of them, as atGrenoble and at Rennes, with portentous emphasis, --threatening, by wayof reprisal, to interdict the very Tax-gatherer. (Weber, i. 266. ) "Inall former contests, " as Malesherbes remarks, "it was the Parlementthat excited the Public; but here it is the Public that excites theParlement. " Chapter 1. 3. VII. Internecine. What a France, through these winter months of the year 1787! The veryOeil-de-Boeuf is doleful, uncertain; with a general feeling among theSuppressed, that it were better to be in Turkey. The Wolf-hounds aresuppressed, the Bear-hounds, Duke de Coigny, Duke de Polignac: in theTrianon little-heaven, her Majesty, one evening, takes Besenval's arm;asks his candid opinion. The intrepid Besenval, --having, as he hopes, nothing of the sycophant in him, --plainly signifies that, with aParlement in rebellion, and an Oeil-de-Boeuf in suppression, the King'sCrown is in danger;--whereupon, singular to say, her Majesty, as ifhurt, changed the subject, et ne me parla plus de rien! (Besenval, iii. 264. ) To whom, indeed, can this poor Queen speak? In need of wise counsel, if ever mortal was; yet beset here only by the hubbub of chaos! Herdwelling-place is so bright to the eye, and confusion and blackcare darkens it all. Sorrows of the Sovereign, sorrows of thewoman, think-coming sorrows environ her more and more. Lamotte, theNecklace-Countess, has in these late months escaped, perhaps beensuffered to escape, from the Salpetriere. Vain was the hope that Parismight thereby forget her; and this ever-widening-lie, and heap of lies, subside. The Lamotte, with a V (for Voleuse, Thief) branded on bothshoulders, has got to England; and will therefrom emit lie on lie;defiling the highest queenly name: mere distracted lies; (Memoiresjustificatifs de la Comtesse de Lamotte (London, 1788). Vie de Jeanne deSt. Remi, Comtesse de Lamotte, &c. &c. See Diamond Necklace (ut supra). )which, in its present humour, France will greedily believe. For the rest, it is too clear our Successive Loan is not filling. As indeed, in such circumstances, a Loan registered by expungingof Protests was not the likeliest to fill. Denunciation ofLettres-de-Cachet, of Despotism generally, abates not: the TwelveParlements are busy; the Twelve hundred Placarders, Balladsingers, Pamphleteers. Paris is what, in figurative speech, they call 'floodedwith pamphlets (regorge de brochures);' flooded and eddying again. Hot deluge, --from so many Patriot ready-writers, all at the fervid orboiling point; each ready-writer, now in the hour of eruption, goinglike an Iceland Geyser! Against which what can a judicious friendMorellet do; a Rivarol, an unruly Linguet (well paid for it), --spoutingcold! Now also, at length, does come discussion of the Protestant Edict: butonly for new embroilment; in pamphlet and counter-pamphlet, increasingthe madness of men. Not even Orthodoxy, bedrid as she seemed, but willhave a hand in this confusion. She, once again in the shape of AbbeLenfant, 'whom Prelates drive to visit and congratulate, '--raisesaudible sound from her pulpit-drum. (Lacretelle, iii. 343. Montgaillard, &c. ) Or mark how D'Espremenil, who has his own confused way in allthings, produces at the right moment in Parlementary harangue, a pocketCrucifix, with the apostrophe: "Will ye crucify him afresh?" Him, OD'Espremenil, without scruple;--considering what poor stuff, of ivoryand filigree, he is made of! To all which add only that poor Brienne has fallen sick; so hard wasthe tear and wear of his sinful youth, so violent, incessant is thisagitation of his foolish old age. Baited, bayed at through so manythroats, his Grace, growing consumptive, inflammatory (with humeurde dartre), lies reduced to milk diet; in exasperation, almost indesperation; with 'repose, ' precisely the impossible recipe, prescribedas the indispensable. (Besenval, iii. 317. ) On the whole, what can a poor Government do, but once more recoilineffectual? The King's Treasury is running towards the lees; and Paris'eddies with a flood of pamphlets. ' At all rates, let the latter subsidea little! D'Orleans gets back to Raincy, which is nearer Paris andthe fair frail Buffon; finally to Paris itself: neither are Freteau andSabatier banished forever. The Protestant Edict is registered; tothe joy of Boissy d'Anglas and good Malesherbes: Successive Loan, allprotests expunged or else withdrawn, remains open, --the rather as fewor none come to fill it. States-General, for which the Parlement hasclamoured, and now the whole Nation clamours, will follow 'in fiveyears, '--if indeed not sooner. O Parlement of Paris, what a clamour wasthat! "Messieurs, " said old d'Ormesson, "you will get States-General, and you will repent it. " Like the Horse in the Fable, who, to be avengedof his enemy, applied to the Man. The Man mounted; did swift executionon the enemy; but, unhappily, would not dismount! Instead of five years, let three years pass, and this clamorous Parlement shall have both seenits enemy hurled prostrate, and been itself ridden to foundering (sayrather, jugulated for hide and shoes), and lie dead in the ditch. Under such omens, however, we have reached the spring of 1788. Byno path can the King's Government find passage for itself, but iseverywhere shamefully flung back. Beleaguered by Twelve rebelliousParlements, which are grown to be the organs of an angry Nation, it canadvance nowhither; can accomplish nothing, obtain nothing, not so muchas money to subsist on; but must sit there, seemingly, to be eaten up ofDeficit. The measure of the Iniquity, then, of the Falsehood which has beengathering through long centuries, is nearly full? At least, that ofthe misery is! For the hovels of the Twenty-five Millions, the misery, permeating upwards and forwards, as its law is, has got so far, --to thevery Oeil-de-Boeuf of Versailles. Man's hand, in this blind pain, is setagainst man: not only the low against the higher, but the higher againsteach other; Provincial Noblesse is bitter against Court Noblesse; Robeagainst Sword; Rochet against Pen. But against the King's Governmentwho is not bitter? Not even Besenval, in these days. To it all men andbodies of men are become as enemies; it is the centre whereon infinitecontentions unite and clash. What new universal vertiginous movement isthis; of Institution, social Arrangements, individual Minds, which onceworked cooperative; now rolling and grinding in distracted collision?Inevitable: it is the breaking-up of a World-Solecism, worn out at last, down even to bankruptcy of money! And so this poor Versailles Court, as the chief or central Solecism, finds all the other Solecisms arrayedagainst it. Most natural! For your human Solecism, be it Person orCombination of Persons, is ever, by law of Nature, uneasy; if vergingtowards bankruptcy, it is even miserable:--and when would the meanestSolecism consent to blame or amend itself, while there remained anotherto amend? These threatening signs do not terrify Lomenie, much less teach him. Lomenie, though of light nature, is not without courage, of a sort. Nay, have we not read of lightest creatures, trained Canary-birds, thatcould fly cheerfully with lighted matches, and fire cannon; fire wholepowder-magazines? To sit and die of deficit is no part of Lomenie'splan. The evil is considerable; but can he not remove it, can he notattack it? At lowest, he can attack the symptom of it: these rebelliousParlements he can attack, and perhaps remove. Much is dim to Lomenie, but two things are clear: that such Parlementary duel with Royalty isgrowing perilous, nay internecine; above all, that money must be had. Take thought, brave Lomenie; thou Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon, who hastideas! So often defeated, balked cruelly when the golden fruit seemedwithin clutch, rally for one other struggle. To tame the Parlement, tofill the King's coffers: these are now life-and-death questions. Parlements have been tamed, more than once. Set to perch 'on the peaksof rocks in accessible except by litters, ' a Parlement grows reasonable. O Maupeou, thou bold man, had we left thy work where it was!--But apartfrom exile, or other violent methods, is there not one method, wherebyall things are tamed, even lions? The method of hunger! What if theParlement's supplies were cut off; namely its Lawsuits! Minor Courts, for the trying of innumerable minor causes, might beinstituted: these we could call Grand Bailliages. Whereon the Parlement, shortened of its prey, would look with yellow despair; but the Public, fond of cheap justice, with favour and hope. Then for Finance, forregistering of Edicts, why not, from our own Oeil-de-Boeuf Dignitaries, our Princes, Dukes, Marshals, make a thing we could call Plenary Court;and there, so to speak, do our registering ourselves? St. Louis had hisPlenary Court, of Great Barons; (Montgaillard, i. 405. ) most useful tohim: our Great Barons are still here (at least the Name of them is stillhere); our necessity is greater than his. Such is the Lomenie-Lamoignon device; welcome to the King's Council, as a light-beam in great darkness. The device seems feasible, it iseminently needful: be it once well executed, great deliverance iswrought. Silent, then, and steady; now or never!--the World shall seeone other Historical Scene; and so singular a man as Lomenie de Briennestill the Stage-manager there. Behold, accordingly, a Home-Secretary Breteuil 'beautifying Paris, ' inthe peaceablest manner, in this hopeful spring weather of 1788; the oldhovels and hutches disappearing from our Bridges: as if for theState too there were halcyon weather, and nothing to do but beautify. Parlement seems to sit acknowledged victor. Brienne says nothing ofFinance; or even says, and prints, that it is all well. How is this;such halcyon quiet; though the Successive Loan did not fill? In avictorious Parlement, Counsellor Goeslard de Monsabert even denouncesthat 'levying of the Second Twentieth on strict valuation;' and getsdecree that the valuation shall not be strict, --not on the privilegedclasses. Nevertheless Brienne endures it, launches no Lettre-de-Cachetagainst it. How is this? Smiling is such vernal weather; but treacherous, sudden! For one thing, we hear it whispered, 'the Intendants of Provinces 'have all got orderto be at their posts on a certain day. ' Still more singular, whatincessant Printing is this that goes on at the King's Chateau, underlock and key? Sentries occupy all gates and windows; the Printers comenot out; they sleep in their workrooms; their very food is handed into them! (Weber, i. 276. ) A victorious Parlement smells new danger. D'Espremenil has ordered horses to Versailles; prowls round that guardedPrinting-Office; prying, snuffing, if so be the sagacity and ingenuityof man may penetrate it. To a shower of gold most things are penetrable. D'Espremenil descends onthe lap of a Printer's Danae, in the shape of 'five hundred louis d'or:'the Danae's Husband smuggles a ball of clay to her; which she deliversto the golden Counsellor of Parlement. Kneaded within it, theirstick printed proof-sheets;--by Heaven! the royal Edict of that sameself-registering Plenary Court; of those Grand Bailliages that shall cutshort our Lawsuits! It is to be promulgated over all France on one andthe same day. This, then, is what the Intendants were bid wait for at their posts:this is what the Court sat hatching, as its accursed cockatrice-egg; andwould not stir, though provoked, till the brood were out! Hie with it, D'Espremenil, home to Paris; convoke instantaneous Sessions; let theParlement, and the Earth, and the Heavens know it. Chapter 1. 3. VIII. Lomenie's Death-throes. On the morrow, which is the 3rd of May, 1788, an astonished Parlementsits convoked; listens speechless to the speech of D'Espremenil, unfolding the infinite misdeed. Deed of treachery; of unhalloweddarkness, such as Despotism loves! Denounce it, O Parlement of Paris;awaken France and the Universe; roll what thunder-barrels of forensiceloquence thou hast: with thee too it is verily Now or never! The Parlement is not wanting, at such juncture. In the hour of hisextreme jeopardy, the lion first incites himself by roaring, bylashing his sides. So here the Parlement of Paris. On the motion ofD'Espremenil, a most patriotic Oath, of the One-and-all sort, is sworn, with united throat;--an excellent new-idea, which, in these comingyears, shall not remain unimitated. Next comes indomitable Declaration, almost of the rights of man, at least of the rights of Parlement;Invocation to the friends of French Freedom, in this and in subsequenttime. All which, or the essence of all which, is brought to paper; in atone wherein something of plaintiveness blends with, and tempers, heroicvalour. And thus, having sounded the storm-bell, --which Paris hears, which all France will hear; and hurled such defiance in the teeth ofLomenie and Despotism, the Parlement retires as from a tolerable firstday's work. But how Lomenie felt to see his cockatrice-egg (so essential to thesalvation of France) broken in this premature manner, let readers fancy!Indignant he clutches at his thunderbolts (de Cachet, of the Seal);and launches two of them: a bolt for D'Espremenil; a bolt for that busyGoeslard, whose service in the Second Twentieth and 'strict valuation'is not forgotten. Such bolts clutched promptly overnight, and launchedwith the early new morning, shall strike agitated Paris if not intorequiescence, yet into wholesome astonishment. Ministerial thunderbolts may be launched; but if they do not hit?D'Espremenil and Goeslard, warned, both of them, as is thought, bythe singing of some friendly bird, elude the Lomenie Tipstaves; escapedisguised through skywindows, over roofs, to their own Palais deJustice: the thunderbolts have missed. Paris (for the buzz flies abroad)is struck into astonishment not wholesome. The two martyrs of Libertydoff their disguises; don their long gowns; behold, in the space ofan hour, by aid of ushers and swift runners, the Parlement, with itsCounsellors, Presidents, even Peers, sits anew assembled. The assembledParlement declares that these its two martyrs cannot be given up, to anysublunary authority; moreover that the 'session is permanent, ' admittingof no adjournment, till pursuit of them has been relinquished. And so, with forensic eloquence, denunciation and protest, with couriersgoing and returning, the Parlement, in this state of continual explosionthat shall cease neither night nor day, waits the issue. Awakened Parisonce more inundates those outer courts; boils, in floods wilder thanever, through all avenues. Dissonant hubbub there is; jargon as ofBabel, in the hour when they were first smitten (as here) with mutualunintelligibilty, and the people had not yet dispersed! Paris City goes through its diurnal epochs, of working and slumbering;and now, for the second time, most European and African mortals areasleep. But here, in this Whirlpool of Words, sleep falls not; the Nightspreads her coverlid of Darkness over it in vain. Within is the sound ofmere martyr invincibility; tempered with the due tone of plaintiveness. Without is the infinite expectant hum, --growing drowsier a little. Sohas it lasted for six-and-thirty hours. But hark, through the dead of midnight, what tramp is this? Tramp as ofarmed men, foot and horse; Gardes Francaises, Gardes Suisses: marchinghither; in silent regularity; in the flare of torchlight! There areSappers, too, with axes and crowbars: apparently, if the doors open not, they will be forced!--It is Captain D'Agoust, missioned from Versailles. D'Agoust, a man of known firmness;--who once forced Prince Condehimself, by mere incessant looking at him, to give satisfaction andfight; (Weber, i. 283. ) he now, with axes and torches is advancing onthe very sanctuary of Justice. Sacrilegious; yet what help? The man isa soldier; looks merely at his orders; impassive, moves forward like aninanimate engine. The doors open on summons, there need no axes; door after door. And nowthe innermost door opens; discloses the long-gowned Senators of France:a hundred and sixty-seven by tale, seventeen of them Peers; sittingthere, majestic, 'in permanent session. ' Were not the men military, andof cast-iron, this sight, this silence reechoing the clank of his ownboots, might stagger him! For the hundred and sixty-seven receive him inperfect silence; which some liken to that of the Roman Senate overfallenby Brennus; some to that of a nest of coiners surprised by officers ofthe Police. (Besenval, iii. 355. ) Messieurs, said D'Agoust, De par leRoi! Express order has charged D'Agoust with the sad duty of arrestingtwo individuals: M. Duval d'Espremenil and M. Goeslard de Monsabert. Which respectable individuals, as he has not the honour of knowingthem, are hereby invited, in the King's name, to surrenderthemselves. --Profound silence! Buzz, which grows a murmur: "We areall D'Espremenils!" ventures a voice; which other voices repeat. ThePresident inquires, Whether he will employ violence? Captain D'Agoust, honoured with his Majesty's commission, has to execute his Majesty'sorder; would so gladly do it without violence, will in any case do it;grants an august Senate space to deliberate which method they prefer. And thereupon D'Agoust, with grave military courtesy, has withdrawn forthe moment. What boots it, august Senators? All avenues are closed with fixedbayonets. Your Courier gallops to Versailles, through the dewy Night;but also gallops back again, with tidings that the order is authentic, that it is irrevocable. The outer courts simmer with idle population;but D'Agoust's grenadier-ranks stand there as immovable floodgates:there will be no revolting to deliver you. "Messieurs!" thus spokeD'Espremenil, "when the victorious Gauls entered Rome, which they hadcarried by assault, the Roman Senators, clothed in their purple, satthere, in their curule chairs, with a proud and tranquil countenance, awaiting slavery or death. Such too is the lofty spectacle, whichyou, in this hour, offer to the universe (a l'univers), after havinggenerously"--with much more of the like, as can still be read. (Toulongeon, i. App. 20. ) In vain, O D'Espremenil! Here is this cast-iron Captain D'Agoust, with his cast-iron military air, come back. Despotism, constraint, destruction sit waving in his plumes. D'Espremenil must fall silent;heroically give himself up, lest worst befall. Him Goeslard heroicallyimitates. With spoken and speechless emotion, they fling themselves intothe arms of their Parlementary brethren, for a last embrace: and soamid plaudits and plaints, from a hundred and sixty-five throats; amidwavings, sobbings, a whole forest-sigh of Parlementary pathos, --they areled through winding passages, to the rear-gate; where, in the gray ofthe morning, two Coaches with Exempts stand waiting. There must thevictims mount; bayonets menacing behind. D'Espremenil's stern questionto the populace, 'Whether they have courage?' is answered by silence. They mount, and roll; and neither the rising of the May sun (it is the6th morning), nor its setting shall lighten their heart: but they fareforward continually; D'Espremenil towards the utmost Isles of SainteMarguerite, or Hieres (supposed by some, if that is any comfort, to beCalypso's Island); Goeslard towards the land-fortress of Pierre-en-Cize, extant then, near the City of Lyons. Captain D'Agoust may now therefore look forward to Majorship, toCommandantship of the Tuilleries; (Montgaillard, i. 404. )--and withalvanish from History; where nevertheless he has been fated to do anotable thing. For not only are D'Espremenil and Goeslard safe whirlingsouthward, but the Parlement itself has straightway to march out: tothat also his inexorable order reaches. Gathering up their long skirts, they file out, the whole Hundred and Sixty-five of them, through tworows of unsympathetic grenadiers: a spectacle to gods and men. Thepeople revolt not; they only wonder and grumble: also, we remark, theseunsympathetic grenadiers are Gardes Francaises, --who, one day, willsympathise! In a word, the Palais de Justice is swept clear, the doorsof it are locked; and D'Agoust returns to Versailles with the key in hispocket, --having, as was said, merited preferment. As for this Parlement of Paris, now turned out to the street, wewill without reluctance leave it there. The Beds of Justice it had toundergo, in the coming fortnight, at Versailles, in registering, orrather refusing to register, those new-hatched Edicts; and how itassembled in taverns and tap-rooms there, for the purpose of Protesting, (Weber, i. 299-303. ) or hovered disconsolate, with outspread skirts, not knowing where to assemble; and was reduced to lodge Protest 'with aNotary;' and in the end, to sit still (in a state of forced 'vacation'), and do nothing; all this, natural now, as the burying of the dead afterbattle, shall not concern us. The Parlement of Paris has as good asperformed its part; doing and misdoing, so far, but hardly further, could it stir the world. Lomenie has removed the evil then? Not at all: not so much as thesymptom of the evil; scarcely the twelfth part of the symptom, andexasperated the other eleven! The Intendants of Provinces, the MilitaryCommandants are at their posts, on the appointed 8th of May: but in noParlement, if not in the single one of Douai, can these new Edictsget registered. Not peaceable signing with ink; but browbeating, bloodshedding, appeal to primary club-law! Against these Bailliages, against this Plenary Court, exasperated Themis everywhere shows faceof battle; the Provincial Noblesse are of her party, and whoever hatesLomenie and the evil time; with her attorneys and Tipstaves, she enlistsand operates down even to the populace. At Rennes in Brittany, where thehistorical Bertrand de Moleville is Intendant, it has passed from fatalcontinual duelling, between the military and gentry, to street-fighting;to stone-volleys and musket-shot: and still the Edicts remainedunregistered. The afflicted Bretons send remonstrance to Lomenie, by aDeputation of Twelve; whom, however, Lomenie, having heard them, shutsup in the Bastille. A second larger deputation he meets, by his scouts, on the road, and persuades or frightens back. But now a third largestDeputation is indignantly sent by many roads: refused audience onarriving, it meets to take council; invites Lafayette and all PatriotBretons in Paris to assist; agitates itself; becomes the Breton Club, first germ of--the Jacobins' Society. (A. F. De Bertrand-Moleville, Memoires Particuliers (Paris, 1816), I. Ch. I. Marmontel, Memoires, iv. 27. ) So many as eight Parlements get exiled: (Montgaillard, i. 308. ) othersmight need that remedy, but it is one not always easy of appliance. AtGrenoble, for instance, where a Mounier, a Barnave have not been idle, the Parlement had due order (by Lettres-de-Cachet) to depart, andexile itself: but on the morrow, instead of coaches getting yoked, thealarm-bell bursts forth, ominous; and peals and booms all day: crowdsof mountaineers rush down, with axes, even with firelocks, --whom (mostominous of all!) the soldiery shows no eagerness to deal with. 'Axe overhead, ' the poor General has to sign capitulation; to engage that theLettres-de-Cachet shall remain unexecuted, and a beloved Parlement staywhere it is. Besancon, Dijon, Rouen, Bourdeaux, are not what they shouldbe! At Pau in Bearn, where the old Commandant had failed, the new one(a Grammont, native to them) is met by a Procession of townsmen with theCradle of Henri Quatre, the Palladium of their Town; is conjured as hevenerates this old Tortoise-shell, in which the great Henri was rocked, not to trample on Bearnese liberty; is informed, withal, that hisMajesty's cannon are all safe--in the keeping of his Majesty's faithfulBurghers of Pau, and do now lie pointed on the walls there; ready foraction! (Besenval, iii. 348. ) At this rate, your Grand Bailliages are like to have a stormy infancy. As for the Plenary Court, it has literally expired in the birth. Thevery Courtiers looked shy at it; old Marshal Broglie declined the honourof sitting therein. Assaulted by a universal storm of mingled ridiculeand execration, (La Cour Pleniere, heroi-tragi-comedie en trois actes eten prose; jouee le 14 Juillet 1788, par une societe d'amateurs dans unChateau aux environs de Versailles; par M. L'Abbe de Vermond, Lecteur dela Reine: A Baville (Lamoignon's Country-house), et se trouve a Paris, chez la Veuve Liberte, a l'enseigne de la Revolution, 1788. --La Passion, la Mort et la Resurrection du Peuple: Imprime a Jerusalem, &c. &c. --SeeMontgaillard, i. 407. ) this poor Plenary Court met once, and neverany second time. Distracted country! Contention hisses up, withforked hydra-tongues, wheresoever poor Lomenie sets his foot. 'Let aCommandant, a Commissioner of the King, ' says Weber, 'enter one ofthese Parlements to have an Edict registered, the whole Tribunal willdisappear, and leave the Commandant alone with the Clerk and FirstPresident. The Edict registered and the Commandant gone, the wholeTribunal hastens back, to declare such registration null. The highwaysare covered with Grand Deputations of Parlements, proceeding toVersailles, to have their registers expunged by the King's hand; orreturning home, to cover a new page with a new resolution still moreaudacious. ' (Weber, i. 275. ) Such is the France of this year 1788. Not now a Golden or Paper Age ofHope; with its horse-racings, balloon-flyings, and finer sensibilitiesof the heart: ah, gone is that; its golden effulgence paled, bedarkenedin this singular manner, --brewing towards preternatural weather! For, as in that wreck-storm of Paul et Virginie and Saint-Pierre, --'One hugemotionless cloud' (say, of Sorrow and Indignation) 'girdles our wholehorizon; streams up, hairy, copper-edged, over a sky of the colour oflead. ' Motionless itself; but 'small clouds' (as exiled Parlements andsuchlike), 'parting from it, fly over the zenith, with the velocityof birds:'--till at last, with one loud howl, the whole Four Winds bedashed together, and all the world exclaim, There is the tornado! Toutle monde s'ecria, Voila l'ouragan! For the rest, in such circumstances, the Successive Loan, verynaturally, remains unfilled; neither, indeed, can that impost of theSecond Twentieth, at least not on 'strict valuation, ' be levied to goodpurpose: 'Lenders, ' says Weber, in his hysterical vehement manner, 'areafraid of ruin; tax-gatherers of hanging. ' The very Clergy turnaway their face: convoked in Extraordinary Assembly, they afford nogratuitous gift (don gratuit), --if it be not that of advice; here tooinstead of cash is clamour for States-General. (Lameth, Assemb. Const. (Introd. ) p. 87. ) O Lomenie-Brienne, with thy poor flimsy mind all bewildered, and now'three actual cauteries' on thy worn-out body; who art like to die ofinflamation, provocation, milk-diet, dartres vives and maladie--(bestuntranslated); (Montgaillard, i. 424. ) and presidest over a France withinnumerable actual cauteries, which also is dying of inflammation andthe rest! Was it wise to quit the bosky verdures of Brienne, and thy newashlar Chateau there, and what it held, for this? Soft were thoseshades and lawns; sweet the hymns of Poetasters, the blandishments ofhigh-rouged Graces: (See Memoires de Morellet. ) and always this andthe other Philosophe Morellet (nothing deeming himself or thee aquestionable Sham-Priest) could be so happy in making happy:--andalso (hadst thou known it), in the Military School hard by there sat, studying mathematics, a dusky-complexioned taciturn Boy, under thename of: NAPOLEON BONAPARTE!--With fifty years of effort, and one finaldead-lift struggle, thou hast made an exchange! Thou hast got thy robeof office, --as Hercules had his Nessus'-shirt. On the 13th of July of this 1788, there fell, on the very edge ofharvest, the most frightful hailstorm; scattering into wild waste theFruits of the Year; which had otherwise suffered grievously by drought. For sixty leagues round Paris especially, the ruin was almost total. (Marmontel, iv. 30. ) To so many other evils, then, there is to be added, that of dearth, perhaps of famine. Some days before this hailstorm, on the 5th of July; and still moredecisively some days after it, on the 8th of August, --Lomenie announcesthat the States-General are actually to meet in the following month ofMay. Till after which period, this of the Plenary Court, and the rest, shall remain postponed. Further, as in Lomenie there is no plan offorming or holding these most desirable States-General, 'thinkers areinvited' to furnish him with one, --through the medium of discussion bythe public press! What could a poor Minister do? There are still ten months of respitereserved: a sinking pilot will fling out all things, his verybiscuit-bags, lead, log, compass and quadrant, before flinging outhimself. It is on this principle, of sinking, and the incipient deliriumof despair, that we explain likewise the almost miraculous 'invitationto thinkers. ' Invitation to Chaos to be so kind as build, out of itstumultuous drift-wood, an Ark of Escape for him! In these cases, notinvitation but command has usually proved serviceable. --The Queen stood, that evening, pensive, in a window, with her face turned towards theGarden. The Chef de Gobelet had followed her with an obsequious cup ofcoffee; and then retired till it were sipped. Her Majesty beckoned DameCampan to approach: "Grand Dieu!" murmured she, with the cup in herhand, "what a piece of news will be made public to-day! The King grantsStates-General. " Then raising her eyes to Heaven (if Campan were notmistaken), she added: "'Tis a first beat of the drum, of ill-omen forFrance. This Noblesse will ruin us. " (Campan, iii. 104, 111. ) During all that hatching of the Plenary Court, while Lamoignon looked somysterious, Besenval had kept asking him one question: Whether they hadcash? To which as Lamoignon always answered (on the faith of Lomenie)that the cash was safe, judicious Besenval rejoined that then all wassafe. Nevertheless, the melancholy fact is, that the royal coffers arealmost getting literally void of coin. Indeed, apart from all otherthings this 'invitation to thinkers, ' and the great change now at handare enough to 'arrest the circulation of capital, ' and forward only thatof pamphlets. A few thousand gold louis are now all of money or money'sworth that remains in the King's Treasury. With another movement asof desperation, Lomenie invites Necker to come and be Controller ofFinances! Necker has other work in view than controlling Finances forLomenie: with a dry refusal he stands taciturn; awaiting his time. What shall a desperate Prime Minister do? He has grasped at thestrongbox of the King's Theatre: some Lottery had been set on foot forthose sufferers by the hailstorm; in his extreme necessity, Lomenielays hands even on this. (Besenval, iii. 360. ) To make provision forthe passing day, on any terms, will soon be impossible. --On the 16thof August, poor Weber heard, at Paris and Versailles, hawkers, 'witha hoarse stifled tone of voice (voix etouffee, sourde)' drawling andsnuffling, through the streets, an Edict concerning Payments (such wasthe soft title Rivarol had contrived for it): all payments at theRoyal Treasury shall be made henceforth, three-fifths in Cash, andthe remaining two-fifths--in Paper bearing interest! Poor Weber almostswooned at the sound of these cracked voices, with their bodefulraven-note; and will never forget the effect it had on him. (Weber, i. 339. ) But the effect on Paris, on the world generally? From the dens ofStock-brokerage, from the heights of Political Economy, of Neckerismand Philosophism; from all articulate and inarticulate throats, risehootings and howlings, such as ear had not yet heard. Sedition itselfmay be imminent! Monseigneur d'Artois, moved by Duchess Polignac, feelscalled to wait upon her Majesty; and explain frankly what crisis mattersstand in. 'The Queen wept;' Brienne himself wept;--for it is now visibleand palpable that he must go. Remains only that the Court, to whom his manners and garrulities werealways agreeable, shall make his fall soft. The grasping old man hasalready got his Archbishopship of Toulouse exchanged for the richer oneof Sens: and now, in this hour of pity, he shall have the Coadjutorshipfor his nephew (hardly yet of due age); a Dameship of the Palace for hisniece; a Regiment for her husband; for himself a red Cardinal's-hat, aCoupe de Bois (cutting from the royal forests), and on the whole 'fromfive to six hundred thousand livres of revenue:' (Weber, i. 341. )finally, his Brother, the Comte de Brienne, shall still continueWar-minister. Buckled-round with such bolsters and huge featherbeds ofPromotion, let him now fall as soft as he can! And so Lomenie departs: rich if Court-titles and Money-bonds can enrichhim; but if these cannot, perhaps the poorest of all extant men. 'Hissedat by the people of Versailles, ' he drives forth to Jardi; southwardto Brienne, --for recovery of health. Then to Nice, to Italy; but shallreturn; shall glide to and fro, tremulous, faint-twinkling, fallen onawful times: till the Guillotine--snuff out his weak existence? Alas, worse: for it is blown out, or choked out, foully, pitiably, on the wayto the Guillotine! In his Palace of Sens, rude Jacobin Bailiffs made himdrink with them from his own wine-cellars, feast with them from his ownlarder; and on the morrow morning, the miserable old man lies dead. Thisis the end of Prime Minister, Cardinal Archbishop Lomenie de Brienne. Flimsier mortal was seldom fated to do as weighty a mischief; to havea life as despicable-envied, an exit as frightful. Fired, as the phraseis, with ambition: blown, like a kindled rag, the sport of winds, not this way, not that way, but of all ways, straight towards such apowder-mine, --which he kindled! Let us pity the hapless Lomenie; andforgive him; and, as soon as possible, forget him. Chapter 1. 3. IX. Burial with Bonfire. Besenval, during these extraordinary operations, of Payment two-fifthsin Paper, and change of Prime Minister, had been out on a tour throughhis District of Command; and indeed, for the last months, peacefullydrinking the waters of Contrexeville. Returning now, in the end ofAugust, towards Moulins, and 'knowing nothing, ' he arrives one eveningat Langres; finds the whole Town in a state of uproar (grande rumeur). Doubtless some sedition; a thing too common in these days! He alightsnevertheless; inquires of a 'man tolerably dressed, ' what the matteris?--"How?" answers the man, "you have not heard the news? TheArchbishop is thrown out, and M. Necker is recalled; and all is going togo well!" (Besenval, iii. 366. ) Such rumeur and vociferous acclaim has risen round M. Necker, everfrom 'that day when he issued from the Queen's Apartments, ' a nominatedMinister. It was on the 24th of August: 'the galleries of the Chateau, the courts, the streets of Versailles; in few hours, the Capital; and, as the news flew, all France, resounded with the cry of Vive le Roi!Vive M. Necker! (Weber, i. 342. ) In Paris indeed it unfortunatelygot the length of turbulence. ' Petards, rockets go off, in the PlaceDauphine, more than enough. A 'wicker Figure (Mannequin d'osier), 'in Archbishop's stole, made emblematically, three-fifths of it satin, two-fifths of it paper, is promenaded, not in silence, to the popularjudgment-bar; is doomed; shriven by a mock Abbe de Vermond; thensolemnly consumed by fire, at the foot of Henri's Statue on the PontNeuf;--with such petarding and huzzaing that Chevalier Dubois and hisCity-watch see good finally to make a charge (more or less ineffectual);and there wanted not burning of sentry-boxes, forcing of guard-houses, and also 'dead bodies thrown into the Seine over-night, ' to avoid neweffervescence. (Histoire Parlementaire de la Revolution Francaise; ouJournal des Assemblees Nationales depuis 1789 (Paris, 1833 et seqq. ), i. 253. Lameth, Assemblee Constituante, i. (Introd. ) p. 89. ) Parlements therefore shall return from exile: Plenary Court, Paymenttwo-fifths in Paper have vanished; gone off in smoke, at the foot ofHenri's Statue. States-General (with a Political Millennium) are nowcertain; nay, it shall be announced, in our fond haste, for Januarynext: and all, as the Langres man said, is 'going to go. ' To the prophetic glance of Besenval, one other thing is too apparent:that Friend Lamoignon cannot keep his Keepership. Neither he norWar-minister Comte de Brienne! Already old Foulon, with an eye to bewar-minister himself, is making underground movements. This is that sameFoulon named ame damnee du Parlement; a man grown gray in treachery, in griping, projecting, intriguing and iniquity: who once when itwas objected, to some finance-scheme of his, "What will the peopledo?"--made answer, in the fire of discussion, "The people may eatgrass:" hasty words, which fly abroad irrevocable, --and will send backtidings! Foulon, to the relief of the world, fails on this occasion; and willalways fail. Nevertheless it steads not M. De Lamoignon. It steads notthe doomed man that he have interviews with the King; and be 'seen toreturn radieux, ' emitting rays. Lamoignon is the hated of Parlements:Comte de Brienne is Brother to the Cardinal Archbishop. The 24th ofAugust has been; and the 14th September is not yet, when they two, astheir great Principal had done, descend, --made to fall soft, like him. And now, as if the last burden had been rolled from its heart, andassurance were at length perfect, Paris bursts forth anew into extremejubilee. The Basoche rejoices aloud, that the foe of Parlements isfallen; Nobility, Gentry, Commonalty have rejoiced; and rejoice. Naynow, with new emphasis, Rascality itself, starting suddenly from its dimdepths, will arise and do it, --for down even thither the new PoliticalEvangel, in some rude version or other, has penetrated. It is Monday, the 14th of September 1788: Rascality assembles anew, in great force, in the Place Dauphine; lets off petards, fires blunderbusses, to anincredible extent, without interval, for eighteen hours. There is againa wicker Figure, 'Mannequin of osier:' the centre of endless howlings. Also Necker's Portrait snatched, or purchased, from some Printshop, isborne processionally, aloft on a perch, with huzzas;--an example to beremembered. But chiefly on the Pont Neuf, where the Great Henri, in bronze, ridessublime; there do the crowds gather. All passengers must stop, till theyhave bowed to the People's King, and said audibly: Vive Henri Quatre;au diable Lamoignon! No carriage but must stop; not even that of hisHighness d'Orleans. Your coach-doors are opened: Monsieur will pleaseto put forth his head and bow; or even, if refractory, to alightaltogether, and kneel: from Madame a wave of her plumes, a smile of herfair face, there where she sits, shall suffice;--and surely a coinor two (to buy fusees) were not unreasonable from the Upper Classes, friends of Liberty? In this manner it proceeds for days; in such rudehorse-play, --not without kicks. The City-watch can do nothing; hardlysave its own skin: for the last twelve-month, as we have sometimes seen, it has been a kind of pastime to hunt the Watch. Besenval indeed is athand with soldiers; but they have orders to avoid firing, and are notprompt to stir. On Monday morning the explosion of petards began: and now it isnear midnight of Wednesday; and the 'wicker Mannequin' is to beburied, --apparently in the Antique fashion. Long rows of torches, following it, move towards the Hotel Lamoignon; but 'a servant of mine'(Besenval's) has run to give warning, and there are soldiers come. Gloomy Lamoignon is not to die by conflagration, or this night; not yetfor a year, and then by gunshot (suicidal or accidental is unknown). (Histoire de la Revolution, par Deux Amis de la Liberte, i. 50. ) FoiledRascality burns its 'Mannikin of osier, ' under his windows; 'tears upthe sentry-box, ' and rolls off: to try Brienne; to try Dubois Captainof the Watch. Now, however, all is bestirring itself; Gardes Francaises, Invalides, Horse-patrol: the Torch Procession is met with sharp shot, with the thrusting of bayonets, the slashing of sabres. Even Duboismakes a charge, with that Cavalry of his, and the cruelest charge ofall: 'there are a great many killed and wounded. ' Not without clangour, complaint; subsequent criminal trials, and official persons dying ofheartbreak! (Histoire de la Revolution, par Deux Amis de la Liberte, i. 58. ) So, however, with steel-besom, Rascality is brushed back into itsdim depths, and the streets are swept clear. Not for a century and half had Rascality ventured to step forth in thisfashion; not for so long, showed its huge rude lineaments in the lightof day. A Wonder and new Thing: as yet gamboling merely, in awkwardBrobdingnag sport, not without quaintness; hardly in anger: yet in itshuge half-vacant laugh lurks a shade of grimness, --which could unfolditself! However, the thinkers invited by Lomenie are now far on with theirpamphlets: States-General, on one plan or another, will infallibly meet;if not in January, as was once hoped, yet at latest in May. Old Dukede Richelieu, moribund in these autumn days, opens his eyes once more, murmuring, "What would Louis Fourteenth" (whom he remembers) "havesaid!"--then closes them again, forever, before the evil time. BOOK 1. IV. STATES-GENERAL Chapter 1. 4. I. The Notables Again. The universal prayer, therefore, is to be fulfilled! Always in days ofnational perplexity, when wrong abounded and help was not, this remedyof States-General was called for; by a Malesherbes, nay by a Fenelon;(Montgaillard, i. 461. ) even Parlements calling for it were 'escortedwith blessings. ' And now behold it is vouchsafed us; States-Generalshall verily be! To say, let States-General be, was easy; to say in what manner theyshall be, is not so easy. Since the year of 1614, there have noStates-General met in France, all trace of them has vanished from theliving habits of men. Their structure, powers, methods of procedure, which were never in any measure fixed, have now become wholly a vaguepossibility. Clay which the potter may shape, this way or that:--sayrather, the twenty-five millions of potters; for so many have now, more or less, a vote in it! How to shape the States-General? There is aproblem. Each Body-corporate, each privileged, each organised Class hassecret hopes of its own in that matter; and also secret misgivings ofits own, --for, behold, this monstrous twenty-million Class, hitherto thedumb sheep which these others had to agree about the manner of shearing, is now also arising with hopes! It has ceased or is ceasing to be dumb;it speaks through Pamphlets, or at least brays and growls behind them, in unison, --increasing wonderfully their volume of sound. As for the Parlement of Paris, it has at once declared for the 'oldform of 1614. ' Which form had this advantage, that the Tiers Etat, ThirdEstate, or Commons, figured there as a show mainly: whereby the Noblesseand Clergy had but to avoid quarrel between themselves, and decideunobstructed what they thought best. Such was the clearly declaredopinion of the Paris Parlement. But, being met by a storm of merehooting and howling from all men, such opinion was blown straightway tothe winds; and the popularity of the Parlement along with it, --neverto return. The Parlements part, we said above, was as good as played. Concerning which, however, there is this further to be noted: theproximity of dates. It was on the 22nd of September that the Parlementreturned from 'vacation' or 'exile in its estates;' to be reinstalledamid boundless jubilee from all Paris. Precisely next day it was, thatthis same Parlement came to its 'clearly declared opinion:' and then onthe morrow after that, you behold it covered with outrages;' its outercourt, one vast sibilation, and the glory departed from it for evermore. (Weber, i. 347. ) A popularity of twenty-four hours was, in those times, no uncommon allowance. On the other hand, how superfluous was that invitation of Lomenie's:the invitation to thinkers! Thinkers and unthinkers, by the million, are spontaneously at their post, doing what is in them. Clubs labour:Societe Publicole; Breton Club; Enraged Club, Club des Enrages. LikewiseDinner-parties in the Palais Royal; your Mirabeaus, Talleyrands diningthere, in company with Chamforts, Morellets, with Duponts andhot Parlementeers, not without object! For a certain NeckereanLion's-provider, whom one could name, assembles them there; (Ibid. I. 360. )--or even their own private determination to have dinner does it. And then as to Pamphlets--in figurative language; 'it is a sheer snowingof pamphlets; like to snow up the Government thoroughfares!' Now is thetime for Friends of Freedom; sane, and even insane. Count, or self-styled Count, d'Aintrigues, 'the young Languedociangentleman, ' with perhaps Chamfort the Cynic to help him, rises intofuror almost Pythic; highest, where many are high. (Memoire sur lesEtats-Generaux. See Montgaillard, i. 457-9. ) Foolish young Languedociangentleman; who himself so soon, 'emigrating among the foremost, 'must fly indignant over the marches, with the Contrat Social in hispocket, --towards outer darkness, thankless intriguings, ignis-fatuushoverings, and death by the stiletto! Abbe Sieyes has left ChartresCathedral, and canonry and book-shelves there; has let his tonsure grow, and come to Paris with a secular head, of the most irrefragable sort, to ask three questions, and answer them: What is the ThirdEstate? All. --What has it hitherto been in our form of government?Nothing. --What does it want? To become Something. D'Orleans, --for be sure he, on his way to Chaos, is in the thick ofthis, --promulgates his Deliberations; (Deliberations a prendre pour lesAssemblees des Bailliages. ) fathered by him, written by Laclos of theLiaisons Dangereuses. The result of which comes out simply: 'The ThirdEstate is the Nation. ' On the other hand, Monseigneur d'Artois, withother Princes of the Blood, publishes, in solemn Memorial to the King, that if such things be listened to, Privilege, Nobility, Monarchy, Church, State and Strongbox are in danger. (Memoire presente au Roi, parMonseigneur Comte d'Artois, M. Le Prince de Conde, M. Le Duc de Bourbon, M. Le Duc d'Enghien, et M. Le Prince de Conti. (Given in Hist. Parl. I. 256. )) In danger truly: and yet if you do not listen, are they outof danger? It is the voice of all France, this sound that rises. Immeasurable, manifold; as the sound of outbreaking waters: wise werehe who knew what to do in it, --if not to fly to the mountains, and hidehimself? How an ideal, all-seeing Versailles Government, sitting there on suchprinciples, in such an environment, would have determined to demeanitself at this new juncture, may even yet be a question. Such aGovernment would have felt too well that its long task was now drawingto a close; that, under the guise of these States-General, at lengthinevitable, a new omnipotent Unknown of Democracy was coming into being;in presence of which no Versailles Government either could or should, except in a provisory character, continue extant. To enact whichprovisory character, so unspeakably important, might its wholefaculties but have sufficed; and so a peaceable, gradual, well-conductedAbdication and Domine-dimittas have been the issue! This for our ideal, all-seeing Versailles Government. But for the actualirrational Versailles Government? Alas, that is a Government existingthere only for its own behoof: without right, except possession; and nowalso without might. It foresees nothing, sees nothing; has not so muchas a purpose, but has only purposes, --and the instinct whereby all thatexists will struggle to keep existing. Wholly a vortex; in which vaincounsels, hallucinations, falsehoods, intrigues, and imbecilities whirl;like withered rubbish in the meeting of winds! The Oeil-de-Boeuf has itsirrational hopes, if also its fears. Since hitherto all States-Generalhave done as good as nothing, why should these do more? The Commons, indeed, look dangerous; but on the whole is not revolt, unknown nowfor five generations, an impossibility? The Three Estates can, bymanagement, be set against each other; the Third will, as heretofore, join with the King; will, out of mere spite and self-interest, be eagerto tax and vex the other two. The other two are thus delivered boundinto our hands, that we may fleece them likewise. Whereupon, money beinggot, and the Three Estates all in quarrel, dismiss them, and let thefuture go as it can! As good Archbishop Lomenie was wont to say: "Thereare so many accidents; and it needs but one to save us. "--How many todestroy us? Poor Necker in the midst of such an anarchy does what is possible forhim. He looks into it with obstinately hopeful face; lauds the knownrectitude of the kingly mind; listens indulgent-like to the knownperverseness of the queenly and courtly;--emits if any proclamation orregulation, one favouring the Tiers Etat; but settling nothing; hoveringafar off rather, and advising all things to settle themselves. Thegrand questions, for the present, have got reduced to two: the DoubleRepresentation, and the Vote by Head. Shall the Commons have a 'doublerepresentation, ' that is to say, have as many members as the Noblesseand Clergy united? Shall the States-General, when once assembled, voteand deliberate, in one body, or in three separate bodies; 'vote by head, or vote by class, '--ordre as they call it? These are the moot-points nowfilling all France with jargon, logic and eleutheromania. To terminatewhich, Necker bethinks him, Might not a second Convocation of theNotables be fittest? Such second Convocation is resolved on. On the 6th of November of this year 1788, these Notables accordinglyhave reassembled; after an interval of some eighteen months. They areCalonne's old Notables, the same Hundred and Forty-four, --to show one'simpartiality; likewise to save time. They sit there once again, in theirSeven Bureaus, in the hard winter weather: it is the hardest winter seensince 1709; thermometer below zero of Fahrenheit, Seine River frozenover. (Marmontel, Memoires (London, 1805), iv. 33. Hist. Parl, &c. )Cold, scarcity and eleutheromaniac clamour: a changed world since theseNotables were 'organed out, ' in May gone a year! They shall see nowwhether, under their Seven Princes of the Blood, in their Seven Bureaus, they can settle the moot-points. To the surprise of Patriotism, these Notables, once so patriotic, seemto incline the wrong way; towards the anti-patriotic side. Theystagger at the Double Representation, at the Vote by Head: there is notaffirmative decision; there is mere debating, and that not with the bestaspects. For, indeed, were not these Notables themselves mostly of thePrivileged Classes? They clamoured once; now they have their misgivings;make their dolorous representations. Let them vanish, ineffectual; andreturn no more! They vanish after a month's session, on this 12th ofDecember, year 1788: the last terrestrial Notables, not to reappear anyother time, in the History of the World. And so, the clamour still continuing, and the Pamphlets; and nothingbut patriotic Addresses, louder and louder, pouting in on us from allcorners of France, --Necker himself some fortnight after, before the yearis yet done, has to present his Report, (Rapport fait au Roi dans sonConseil, le 27 Decembre 1788. ) recommending at his own risk that sameDouble Representation; nay almost enjoining it, so loud is the jargonand eleutheromania. What dubitating, what circumambulating! These wholesix noisy months (for it began with Brienne in July, ) has not Reportfollowed Report, and one Proclamation flown in the teeth of the other?(5th July; 8th August; 23rd September, &c. &c. ) However, that first moot-point, as we see, is now settled. As for thesecond, that of voting by Head or by Order, it unfortunately is stillleft hanging. It hangs there, we may say, between the Privileged Ordersand the Unprivileged; as a ready-made battle-prize, and necessity ofwar, from the very first: which battle-prize whosoever seizes it--maythenceforth bear as battle-flag, with the best omens! But so, at least, by Royal Edict of the 24th of January, (Reglement duRoi pour la Convocation des Etats-Generaux a Versailles. (Reprinted, wrong dated, in Histoire Parlementaire, i. 262. )) does it finally, toimpatient expectant France, become not only indubitable that NationalDeputies are to meet, but possible (so far and hardly farther has theroyal Regulation gone) to begin electing them. Chapter 1. 4. II. The Election. Up, then, and be doing! The royal signal-word flies through France, asthrough vast forests the rushing of a mighty wind. At Parish Churches, in Townhalls, and every House of Convocation; by Bailliages, bySeneschalsies, in whatsoever form men convene; there, with confusionenough, are Primary Assemblies forming. To elect your Electors; suchis the form prescribed: then to draw up your 'Writ of Plaints andGrievances (Cahier de plaintes et doleances), ' of which latter there isno lack. With such virtue works this Royal January Edict; as it rolls rapidly, in its leathern mails, along these frostbound highways, towards all thefour winds. Like some fiat, or magic spell-word;--which such thingsdo resemble! For always, as it sounds out 'at the market-cross, 'accompanied with trumpet-blast; presided by Bailli, Seneschal, or otherminor Functionary, with beef-eaters; or, in country churches isdroned forth after sermon, 'au prone des messes paroissales;' and isregistered, posted and let fly over all the world, --you behold how thismultitudinous French People, so long simmering and buzzing in eagerexpectancy, begins heaping and shaping itself into organic groups. Whichorganic groups, again, hold smaller organic grouplets: the inarticulatebuzzing becomes articulate speaking and acting. By Primary Assembly, andthen by Secondary; by 'successive elections, ' and infinite elaborationand scrutiny, according to prescribed process--shall the genuine'Plaints and Grievances' be at length got to paper; shall the fitNational Representative be at length laid hold of. How the whole People shakes itself, as if it had one life; and, inthousand-voiced rumour, announces that it is awake, suddenly out of longdeath-sleep, and will thenceforth sleep no more! The long looked-for hascome at last; wondrous news, of Victory, Deliverance, Enfranchisement, sounds magical through every heart. To the proud strong man it has come;whose strong hands shall no more be gyved; to whom boundless unconqueredcontinents lie disclosed. The weary day-drudge has heard of it; thebeggar with his crusts moistened in tears. What! To us also has hopereached; down even to us? Hunger and hardship are not to be eternal?The bread we extorted from the rugged glebe, and, with the toil of oursinews, reaped and ground, and kneaded into loaves, was not wholly foranother, then; but we also shall eat of it, and be filled? Glorious news(answer the prudent elders), but all-too unlikely!--Thus, at any rate, may the lower people, who pay no money-taxes and have no right to vote, (Reglement du Roi in Histoire Parlementaire, as above, i. 267-307. )assiduously crowd round those that do; and most Halls of Assembly, within doors and without, seem animated enough. Paris, alone of Towns, is to have Representatives; the number of themtwenty. Paris is divided into Sixty Districts; each of which (assembledin some church, or the like) is choosing two Electors. Officialdeputations pass from District to District, for all is inexperience asyet, and there is endless consulting. The streets swarm strangely withbusy crowds, pacific yet restless and loquacious; at intervals, isseen the gleam of military muskets; especially about the Palais, whereParlement, once more on duty, sits querulous, almost tremulous. Busy is the French world! In those great days, what poorest speculativecraftsman but will leave his workshop; if not to vote, yet to assistin voting? On all highways is a rustling and bustling. Over the widesurface of France, ever and anon, through the spring months, as theSower casts his corn abroad upon the furrows, sounds of congregating anddispersing; of crowds in deliberation, acclamation, voting by ballot andby voice, --rise discrepant towards the ear of Heaven. To which politicalphenomena add this economical one, that Trade is stagnant, and alsoBread getting dear; for before the rigorous winter there was, as wesaid, a rigorous summer, with drought, and on the 13th of July withdestructive hail. What a fearful day! all cried while that tempest fell. Alas, the next anniversary of it will be a worse. (Bailly, Memoires, i. 336. ) Under such aspects is France electing National Representatives. The incidents and specialties of these Elections belong not toUniversal, but to Local or Parish History: for which reason let not thenew troubles of Grenoble or Besancon; the bloodshed on the streets ofRennes, and consequent march thither of the Breton 'Young Men' withManifesto by their 'Mothers, Sisters and Sweethearts;' (Protestation etArrete des Jeunes Gens de la Ville de Nantes, du 28 Janvier 1789, avantleur depart pour Rennes. Arrete des Jeunes Gens de la Ville d'Angers, du4 Fevrier 1789. Arrete des Meres, Soeurs, Epouses et Amantes desJeunes Citoyens d'Angers, du 6 Fevrier 1789. (Reprinted in HistoireParlementaire, i. 290-3. )) nor suchlike, detain us here. It is thesame sad history everywhere; with superficial variations. A reinstatedParlement (as at Besancon), which stands astonished at this Behemoth ofa States-General it had itself evoked, starts forward, with more orless audacity, to fix a thorn in its nose; and, alas, is instantaneouslystruck down, and hurled quite out, --for the new popular force can usenot only arguments but brickbats! Or else, and perhaps combined withthis, it is an order of Noblesse (as in Brittany), which will beforehandtie up the Third Estate, that it harm not the old privileges. In whichact of tying up, never so skilfully set about, there is likewise nopossibility of prospering; but the Behemoth-Briareus snaps your cordslike green rushes. Tie up? Alas, Messieurs! And then, as for yourchivalry rapiers, valour and wager-of-battle, think one moment, how canthat answer? The plebeian heart too has red life in it, which changesnot to paleness at glance even of you; and 'the six hundred Bretongentlemen assembled in arms, for seventy-two hours, in the Cordeliers'Cloister, at Rennes, '--have to come out again, wiser than they entered. For the Nantes Youth, the Angers Youth, all Brittany was astir;'mothers, sisters and sweethearts' shrieking after them, March! TheBreton Noblesse must even let the mad world have its way. (Hist. Parl. I. 287. Deux Amis de la Liberte, i. 105-128. ) In other Provinces, the Noblesse, with equal goodwill, finds it betterto stick to Protests, to well-redacted 'Cahiers of grievances, ' andsatirical writings and speeches. Such is partially their course inProvence; whither indeed Gabriel Honore Riquetti Comte de Mirabeau hasrushed down from Paris, to speak a word in season. In Provence, thePrivileged, backed by their Aix Parlement, discover that such novelties, enjoined though they be by Royal Edict, tend to National detriment;and what is still more indisputable, 'to impair the dignity of theNoblesse. ' Whereupon Mirabeau protesting aloud, this same Noblesse, amidhuge tumult within doors and without, flatly determines to expel himfrom their Assembly. No other method, not even that of successive duels, would answer with him, the obstreperous fierce-glaring man. Expelled heaccordingly is. 'In all countries, in all times, ' exclaims he departing, 'theAristocrats have implacably pursued every friend of the People; andwith tenfold implacability, if such a one were himself born of theAristocracy. It was thus that the last of the Gracchi perished, by thehands of the Patricians. But he, being struck with the mortal stab, flung dust towards heaven, and called on the Avenging Deities; andfrom this dust there was born Marius, --Marius not so illustrious forexterminating the Cimbri, as for overturning in Rome the tyranny of theNobles. ' (Fils Adoptif, v. 256. ) Casting up which new curious handfulof dust (through the Printing-press), to breed what it can and may, Mirabeau stalks forth into the Third Estate. That he now, to ingratiate himself with this Third Estate, 'opened acloth-shop in Marseilles, ' and for moments became a furnishing tailor, or even the fable that he did so, is to us always among the pleasantmemorabilities of this era. Stranger Clothier never wielded theell-wand, and rent webs for men, or fractional parts of men. The FilsAdoptif is indignant at such disparaging fable, (Memoires de Mirabeau, v. 307. )--which nevertheless was widely believed in those days. (Marat, Ami-du-Peuple Newspaper (in Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 103), &c. ) Butindeed, if Achilles, in the heroic ages, killed mutton, why should notMirabeau, in the unheroic ones, measure broadcloth? More authentic are his triumph-progresses through that disturbeddistrict, with mob jubilee, flaming torches, 'windows hired for twolouis, ' and voluntary guard of a hundred men. He is Deputy Elect, both of Aix and of Marseilles; but will prefer Aix. He has opened hisfar-sounding voice, the depths of his far-sounding soul; he can quell(such virtue is in a spoken word) the pride-tumults of the rich, thehunger-tumults of the poor; and wild multitudes move under him, as underthe moon do billows of the sea: he has become a world compeller, andruler over men. One other incident and specialty we note; with how different aninterest! It is of the Parlement of Paris; which starts forward, likethe others (only with less audacity, seeing better how it lay), tonose-ring that Behemoth of a States-General. Worthy Doctor Guillotin, respectable practitioner in Paris, has drawn up his little 'Plan ofa Cahier of doleances;'--as had he not, having the wish and gift, theclearest liberty to do? He is getting the people to sign it; whereuponthe surly Parlement summons him to give an account of himself. He goes;but with all Paris at his heels; which floods the outer courts, andcopiously signs the Cahier even there, while the Doctor is givingaccount of himself within! The Parlement cannot too soon dismissGuillotin, with compliments; to be borne home shoulder-high. (Deux Amisde la Liberte, i. 141. ) This respectable Guillotin we hope to beholdonce more, and perhaps only once; the Parlement not even once, but letit be engulphed unseen by us. Meanwhile such things, cheering as they are, tend little to cheer thenational creditor, or indeed the creditor of any kind. In the midst ofuniversal portentous doubt, what certainty can seem so certain as moneyin the purse, and the wisdom of keeping it there? Trading Speculation, Commerce of all kinds, has as far as possible come to a dead pause; andthe hand of the industrious lies idle in his bosom. Frightful enough, when now the rigour of seasons has also done its part, and to scarcityof work is added scarcity of food! In the opening spring, there comerumours of forestalment, there come King's Edicts, Petitions of bakersagainst millers; and at length, in the month of April--troops of raggedLackalls, and fierce cries of starvation! These are the thrice-famedBrigands: an actual existing quotity of persons: who, long reflectedand reverberated through so many millions of heads, as in concavemultiplying mirrors, become a whole Brigand World; and, like a kind ofSupernatural Machinery wondrously move the Epos of the Revolution. TheBrigands are here: the Brigands are there; the Brigands are coming! Nototherwise sounded the clang of Phoebus Apollos's silver bow, scatteringpestilence and pale terror; for this clang too was of the imagination;preternatural; and it too walked in formless immeasurability, havingmade itself like to the Night (Greek. )! But remark at least, for the first time, the singular empire ofSuspicion, in those lands, in those days. If poor famishing men shall, prior to death, gather in groups and crowds, as the poor fieldfares andplovers do in bitter weather, were it but that they may chirp mournfullytogether, and misery look in the eyes of misery; if famishing men (whatfamishing fieldfares cannot do) should discover, once congregated, thatthey need not die while food is in the land, since they are many, andwith empty wallets have right hands: in all this, what need were thereof Preternatural Machinery? To most people none; but not to Frenchpeople, in a time of Revolution. These Brigands (as Turgot's also were, fourteen years ago) have all been set on; enlisted, though without tuckof drum, --by Aristocrats, by Democrats, by D'Orleans, D'Artois, andenemies of the public weal. Nay Historians, to this day, will proveit by one argument: these Brigands pretending to have no victual, nevertheless contrive to drink, nay, have been seen drunk. (Lacretelle, 18me Siecle, ii. 155. ) An unexampled fact! But on the whole, may we notpredict that a people, with such a width of Credulity and of Incredulity(the proper union of which makes Suspicion, and indeed unreasongenerally), will see Shapes enough of Immortals fighting in itsbattle-ranks, and never want for Epical Machinery? Be this as it may, the Brigands are clearly got to Paris, inconsiderable multitudes: (Besenval, iii. 385, &c. ) with sallow faces, lank hair (the true enthusiast complexion), with sooty rags; and alsowith large clubs, which they smite angrily against the pavement! Thesemingle in the Election tumult; would fain sign Guillotin's Cahier, or any Cahier or Petition whatsoever, could they but write. Theirenthusiast complexion, the smiting of their sticks bodes little goodto any one; least of all to rich master-manufacturers of the SuburbSaint-Antoine, with whose workmen they consort. Chapter 1. 4. III. Grown Electric. But now also National Deputies from all ends of France are in Paris, with their commissions, what they call pouvoirs, or powers, in theirpockets; inquiring, consulting; looking out for lodgings at Versailles. The States-General shall open there, if not on the First, then surely onthe Fourth of May, in grand procession and gala. The Salle des Menusis all new-carpentered, bedizened for them; their very costume hasbeen fixed; a grand controversy which there was, as to 'slouch-hats orslouched-hats, ' for the Commons Deputies, has got as good as adjusted. Ever new strangers arrive; loungers, miscellaneous persons, officerson furlough, --as the worthy Captain Dampmartin, whom we hope to beacquainted with: these also, from all regions, have repaired hither, tosee what is toward. Our Paris Committees, of the Sixty Districts, arebusier than ever; it is now too clear, the Paris Elections will be late. On Monday, the 27th of April, Astronomer Bailly notices that the SieurReveillon is not at his post. The Sieur Reveillon, 'extensive PaperManufacturer of the Rue St. Antoine;' he, commonly so punctual, isabsent from the Electoral Committee;--and even will never reappearthere. In those 'immense Magazines of velvet paper' has aught befallen?Alas, yes! Alas, it is no Montgolfier rising there to-day; but Drudgery, Rascality and the Suburb that is rising! Was the Sieur Reveillon, himself once a journeyman, heard to say that 'a journeyman might livehandsomely on fifteen sous a-day?' Some sevenpence halfpenny: 'tis aslender sum! Or was he only thought, and believed, to be heard sayingit? By this long chafing and friction it would appear the Nationaltemper has got electric. Down in those dark dens, in those dark heads and hungry hearts, whoknows in what strange figure the new Political Evangel may have shapeditself; what miraculous 'Communion of Drudges' may be getting formed!Enough: grim individuals, soon waxing to grim multitudes, and othermultitudes crowding to see, beset that Paper-Warehouse; demonstrate, in loud ungrammatical language (addressed to the passions too), theinsufficiency of sevenpence halfpenny a-day. The City-watch cannotdissipate them; broils arise and bellowings; Reveillon, at his wits'end, entreats the Populace, entreats the authorities. Besenval, nowin active command, Commandant of Paris, does, towards evening, toReveillon's earnest prayer, send some thirty Gardes Francaises. Theseclear the street, happily without firing; and take post there for thenight in hope that it may be all over. (Besenval, iii. 385-8. ) Not so: on the morrow it is far worse. Saint-Antoine has arisen anew, grimmer than ever;--reinforced by the unknown Tatterdemalion Figures, with their enthusiast complexion and large sticks. The City, through allstreets, is flowing thitherward to see: 'two cartloads of paving-stones, that happened to pass that way' have been seized as a visible godsend. Another detachment of Gardes Francaises must be sent; Besenval and theColonel taking earnest counsel. Then still another; they hardly, withbayonets and menace of bullets, penetrate to the spot. What a sight! Astreet choked up, with lumber, tumult and the endless press of men. A Paper-Warehouse eviscerated by axe and fire: mad din of Revolt;musket-volleys responded to by yells, by miscellaneous missiles; bytiles raining from roof and window, --tiles, execrations and slain men! The Gardes Francaises like it not, but have to persevere. All dayit continues, slackening and rallying; the sun is sinking, andSaint-Antoine has not yielded. The City flies hither and thither: alas, the sound of that musket-volleying booms into the far dining-roomsof the Chaussee d'Antin; alters the tone of the dinner-gossip there. Captain Dampmartin leaves his wine; goes out with a friend or two, tosee the fighting. Unwashed men growl on him, with murmurs of "A bas lesAristocrates (Down with the Aristocrats);" and insult the cross of St. Louis? They elbow him, and hustle him; but do not pick his pocket;--asindeed at Reveillon's too there was not the slightest stealing. (Evenemens qui se sont passes sous mes yeux pendant la RevolutionFrancaise, par A. H. Dampmartin (Berlin, 1799), i. 25-27. ) At fall of night, as the thing will not end, Besenval takes hisresolution: orders out the Gardes Suisses with two pieces of artillery. The Swiss Guards shall proceed thither; summon that rabble to depart, in the King's name. If disobeyed, they shall load their artillery withgrape-shot, visibly to the general eye; shall again summon; if againdisobeyed, fire, --and keep firing 'till the last man' be in this mannerblasted off, and the street clear. With which spirited resolution, asmight have been hoped, the business is got ended. At sight of the litmatches, of the foreign red-coated Switzers, Saint-Antoine dissipates;hastily, in the shades of dusk. There is an encumbered street; there are'from four to five hundred' dead men. Unfortunate Reveillon has foundshelter in the Bastille; does therefrom, safe behind stone bulwarks, issue, plaint, protestation, explanation, for the next month. BoldBesenval has thanks from all the respectable Parisian classes; but findsno special notice taken of him at Versailles, --a thing the man of trueworth is used to. (Besenval, iii. 389. ) But how it originated, this fierce electric sputter and explosion? FromD'Orleans! cries the Court-party: he, with his gold, enlisted theseBrigands, --surely in some surprising manner, without sound of drum: heraked them in hither, from all corners; to ferment and take fire; evilis his good. From the Court! cries enlightened Patriotism: it is thecursed gold and wiles of Aristocrats that enlisted them; set them uponruining an innocent Sieur Reveillon; to frighten the faint, and disgustmen with the career of Freedom. Besenval, with reluctance, concludes that it came from 'the English, ournatural enemies. ' Or, alas, might not one rather attribute it to Dianain the shape of Hunger? To some twin Dioscuri, OPPRESSION and REVENGE;so often seen in the battles of men? Poor Lackalls, all betoiled, besoiled, encrusted into dim defacement; into whom nevertheless thebreath of the Almighty has breathed a living soul! To them it is clearonly that eleutheromaniac Philosophism has yet baked no bread; thatPatrioti Committee-men will level down to their own level, and no lower. Brigands, or whatever they might be, it was bitter earnest with them. They bury their dead with the title of Defenseurs de la Patrie, Martyrsof the good Cause. Or shall we say: Insurrection has now served its Apprenticeship; andthis was its proof-stroke, and no inconclusive one? Its next will be amaster-stroke; announcing indisputable Mastership to a whole astonishedworld. Let that rock-fortress, Tyranny's stronghold, which they nameBastille, or Building, as if there were no other building, --look to itsguns! But, in such wise, with primary and secondary Assemblies, and Cahiers ofGrievances; with motions, congregations of all kinds; with much thunderof froth-eloquence, and at last with thunder of platoon-musquetry, --doesagitated France accomplish its Elections. With confused winnowing andsifting, in this rather tumultuous manner, it has now (all exceptsome remnants of Paris) sifted out the true wheat-grains of NationalDeputies, Twelve Hundred and Fourteen in number; and will forthwith openits States-General. Chapter 1. 4. IV. The Procession. On the first Saturday of May, it is gala at Versailles; and Monday, fourth of the month, is to be a still greater day. The Deputies havemostly got thither, and sought out lodgings; and are now successively, in long well-ushered files, kissing the hand of Majesty in the Chateau. Supreme Usher de Breze does not give the highest satisfaction: wecannot but observe that in ushering Noblesse or Clergy into the anointedPresence, he liberally opens both his folding-doors; and on the otherhand, for members of the Third Estate opens only one! However, there isroom to enter; Majesty has smiles for all. The good Louis welcomes his Honourable Members, with smiles of hope. Hehas prepared for them the Hall of Menus, the largest near him; andoften surveyed the workmen as they went on. A spacious Hall: withraised platform for Throne, Court and Blood-royal; space for six hundredCommons Deputies in front; for half as many Clergy on this hand, andhalf as many Noblesse on that. It has lofty galleries; wherefrom damesof honour, splendent in gaze d'or; foreign Diplomacies, and othergilt-edged white-frilled individuals to the number of two thousand, --maysit and look. Broad passages flow through it; and, outside theinner wall, all round it. There are committee-rooms, guard-rooms, robing-rooms: really a noble Hall; where upholstery, aided by thesubject fine-arts, has done its best; and crimson tasseled cloths, andemblematic fleurs-de-lys are not wanting. The Hall is ready: the very costume, as we said, has been settled; andthe Commons are not to wear that hated slouch-hat (chapeau clabaud), but one not quite so slouched (chapeau rabattu). As for their manner ofworking, when all dressed: for their 'voting by head or by order' andthe rest, --this, which it were perhaps still time to settle, and in fewhours will be no longer time, remains unsettled; hangs dubious in thebreast of Twelve Hundred men. But now finally the Sun, on Monday the 4th of May, hasrisen;--unconcerned, as if it were no special day. And yet, as his firstrays could strike music from the Memnon's Statue on the Nile, what toneswere these, so thrilling, tremulous of preparation and foreboding, whichhe awoke in every bosom at Versailles! Huge Paris, in all conceivableand inconceivable vehicles, is pouring itself forth; from each Townand Village come subsidiary rills; Versailles is a very sea of men. Butabove all, from the Church of St. Louis to the Church of Notre-Dame:one vast suspended-billow of Life, --with spray scattered even tothe chimney-pots! For on chimney-tops too, as over the roofs, and upthitherwards on every lamp-iron, sign-post, breakneck coign of vantage, sits patriotic Courage; and every window bursts with patriotic Beauty:for the Deputies are gathering at St. Louis Church; to march inprocession to Notre-Dame, and hear sermon. Yes, friends, ye may sit and look: boldly or in thought, all France, andall Europe, may sit and look; for it is a day like few others. Oh, onemight weep like Xerxes:--So many serried rows sit perched there; likewinged creatures, alighted out of Heaven: all these, and so many morethat follow them, shall have wholly fled aloft again, vanishing intothe blue Deep; and the memory of this day still be fresh. It is thebaptism-day of Democracy; sick Time has given it birth, the numberedmonths being run. The extreme-unction day of Feudalism! A superannuatedSystem of Society, decrepit with toils (for has it not done much;produced you, and what ye have and know!)--and with thefts and brawls, named glorious-victories; and with profligacies, sensualities, andon the whole with dotage and senility, --is now to die: and so, withdeath-throes and birth-throes, a new one is to be born. What a work, O Earth and Heavens, what a work! Battles and bloodshed, SeptemberMassacres, Bridges of Lodi, retreats of Moscow, Waterloos, Peterloos, Tenpound Franchises, Tarbarrels and Guillotines;--and from this presentdate, if one might prophesy, some two centuries of it still to fight!Two centuries; hardly less; before Democracy go through its due, mostbaleful, stages of Quackocracy; and a pestilential World be burnt up, and have begun to grow green and young again. Rejoice nevertheless, ye Versailles multitudes; to you, from whom allthis is hid, and glorious end of it is visible. This day, sentence ofdeath is pronounced on Shams; judgment of resuscitation, were it but faroff, is pronounced on Realities. This day it is declared aloud, as witha Doom-trumpet, that a Lie is unbelievable. Believe that, stand by that, if more there be not; and let what thing or things soever will follow itfollow. 'Ye can no other; God be your help!' So spake a greater than anyof you; opening his Chapter of World-History. Behold, however! The doors of St. Louis Church flung wide; and theProcession of Processions advancing towards Notre-Dame! Shouts rend theair; one shout, at which Grecian birds might drop dead. It is indeeda stately, solemn sight. The Elected of France, and then the Court ofFrance; they are marshalled and march there, all in prescribed place andcostume. Our Commons 'in plain black mantle and white cravat;' Noblesse, in gold-worked, bright-dyed cloaks of velvet, resplendent, rustlingwith laces, waving with plumes; the Clergy in rochet, alb, or other bestpontificalibus: lastly comes the King himself, and King's Household, also in their brightest blaze of pomp, --their brightest and final one. Some Fourteen Hundred Men blown together from all winds, on the deepesterrand. Yes, in that silent marching mass there lies Futurity enough. Nosymbolic Ark, like the old Hebrews, do these men bear: yet with them toois a Covenant; they too preside at a new Era in the History of Men. Thewhole Future is there, and Destiny dim-brooding over it; in the heartsand unshaped thoughts of these men, it lies illegible, inevitable. Singular to think: they have it in them; yet not they, not mortal, only the Eye above can read it, --as it shall unfold itself, in fireand thunder, of siege, and field-artillery; in the rustling ofbattle-banners, the tramp of hosts, in the glow of burning cities, theshriek of strangled nations! Such things lie hidden, safe-wrapt in thisFourth day of May;--say rather, had lain in some other unknown day, of which this latter is the public fruit and outcome. As indeed whatwonders lie in every Day, --had we the sight, as happily we have not, to decipher it: for is not every meanest Day 'the conflux of twoEternities!' Meanwhile, suppose we too, good Reader, should, as now without miracleMuse Clio enables us--take our station also on some coign of vantage;and glance momentarily over this Procession, and this Life-sea; with farother eyes than the rest do, namely with prophetic? We can mount, andstand there, without fear of falling. As for the Life-sea, or onlooking unnumbered Multitude, it isunfortunately all-too dim. Yet as we gaze fixedly, do not namelessFigures not a few, which shall not always be nameless, disclosethemselves; visible or presumable there! Young Baroness de Stael--sheevidently looks from a window; among older honourable women. (Madamede Stael, Considerations sur la Revolution Francaise (London, 1818), i. 114-191. ) Her father is Minister, and one of the gala personages; to hisown eyes the chief one. Young spiritual Amazon, thy rest is not there;nor thy loved Father's: 'as Malebranche saw all things in God, so M. Necker sees all things in Necker, '--a theorem that will not hold. But where is the brown-locked, light-behaved, fire-hearted DemoiselleTheroigne? Brown eloquent Beauty; who, with thy winged words andglances, shalt thrill rough bosoms, whole steel battalions, and persuadean Austrian Kaiser, --pike and helm lie provided for thee in due season;and, alas, also strait-waistcoat and long lodging in the Salpetriere!Better hadst thou staid in native Luxemburg, and been the mother of somebrave man's children: but it was not thy task, it was not thy lot. Of the rougher sex how, without tongue, or hundred tongues, of iron, enumerate the notabilities! Has not Marquis Valadi hastily quitted hisquaker broadbrim; his Pythagorean Greek in Wapping, and the city ofGlasgow? (Founders of the French Republic (London, 1798), para Valadi. )De Morande from his Courrier de l'Europe; Linguet from his Annales, theylooked eager through the London fog, and became Ex-Editors, --that theymight feed the guillotine, and have their due. Does Louvet (of Faublas)stand a-tiptoe? And Brissot, hight De Warville, friend of the Blacks?He, with Marquis Condorcet, and Claviere the Genevese 'have created theMoniteur Newspaper, ' or are about creating it. Able Editors must giveaccount of such a day. Or seest thou with any distinctness, low down probably, not in places ofhonour, a Stanislas Maillard, riding-tipstaff (huissier a cheval) ofthe Chatelet; one of the shiftiest of men? A Captain Hulin of Geneva, Captain Elie of the Queen's Regiment; both with an air of half-pay?Jourdan, with tile-coloured whiskers, not yet with tile-beard; an unjustdealer in mules? He shall be, in a few months, Jourdan the Headsman, andhave other work. Surely also, in some place not of honour, stands or sprawls upquerulous, that he too, though short, may see, --one squalidest blearedmortal, redolent of soot and horse-drugs: Jean Paul Marat of Neuchatel!O Marat, Renovator of Human Science, Lecturer on Optics; O thouremarkablest Horseleech, once in D'Artois' Stables, --as thy bleared soullooks forth, through thy bleared, dull-acrid, wo-stricken face, whatsees it in all this? Any faintest light of hope; like dayspring afterNova-Zembla night? Or is it but blue sulphur-light, and spectres; woe, suspicion, revenge without end? Of Draper Lecointre, how he shut his cloth-shop hard by, and steppedforth, one need hardly speak. Nor of Santerre, the sonorous Brewer fromthe Faubourg St. Antoine. Two other Figures, and only two, we signalisethere. The huge, brawny, Figure; through whose black brows, and rudeflattened face (figure ecrasee), there looks a waste energy as ofHercules not yet furibund, --he is an esurient, unprovided Advocate;Danton by name: him mark. Then that other, his slight-built comrade andcraft-brother; he with the long curling locks; with the face of dingyblackguardism, wondrously irradiated with genius, as if a naphtha-lampburnt within it: that Figure is Camille Desmoulins. A fellow of infiniteshrewdness, wit, nay humour; one of the sprightliest clearest souls inall these millions. Thou poor Camille, say of thee what they may, it were but falsehood to pretend one did not almost love thee, thouheadlong lightly-sparkling man! But the brawny, not yet furibund Figure, we say, is Jacques Danton; a name that shall be 'tolerably known in theRevolution. ' He is President of the electoral Cordeliers District atParis, or about to be it; and shall open his lungs of brass. We dwell no longer on the mixed shouting Multitude: for now, behold, theCommons Deputies are at hand! Which of these Six Hundred individuals, in plain white cravat, that havecome up to regenerate France, might one guess would become their king?For a king or leader they, as all bodies of men, must have: be theirwork what it may, there is one man there who, by character, faculty, position, is fittest of all to do it; that man, as future not yetelected king, walks there among the rest. He with the thick black locks, will it be? With the hure, as himself calls it, or black boar's-head, fit to be 'shaken' as a senatorial portent? Through whose shaggybeetle-brows, and rough-hewn, seamed, carbuncled face, there looknatural ugliness, small-pox, incontinence, bankruptcy, --and burningfire of genius; like comet-fire glaring fuliginous throughmurkiest confusions? It is Gabriel Honore Riquetti de Mirabeau, theworld-compeller; man-ruling Deputy of Aix! According to the Baroness deStael, he steps proudly along, though looked at askance here, and shakeshis black chevelure, or lion's-mane; as if prophetic of great deeds. Yes, Reader, that is the Type-Frenchman of this epoch; as Voltairewas of the last. He is French in his aspirations, acquisitions, in hisvirtues, in his vices; perhaps more French than any other man;--andintrinsically such a mass of manhood too. Mark him well. The NationalAssembly were all different without that one; nay, he might say with theold Despot: "The National Assembly? I am that. " Of a southern climate, of wild southern blood: for the Riquettis, orArighettis, had to fly from Florence and the Guelfs, long centuries ago, and settled in Provence; where from generation to generation they haveever approved themselves a peculiar kindred: irascible, indomitable, sharp-cutting, true, like the steel they wore; of an intensity andactivity that sometimes verged towards madness, yet did not reachit. One ancient Riquetti, in mad fulfilment of a mad vow, chains twoMountains together; and the chain, with its 'iron star of five rays, ' isstill to be seen. May not a modern Riquetti unchain so much, and set itdrifting, --which also shall be seen? Destiny has work for that swart burly-headed Mirabeau; Destiny haswatched over him, prepared him from afar. Did not his Grandfather, stoutCol. D'Argent (Silver-Stock, so they named him), shattered and slashedby seven-and-twenty wounds in one fell day lie sunk together on theBridge at Casano; while Prince Eugene's cavalry galloped and regallopedover him, --only the flying sergeant had thrown a camp-kettle over thatloved head; and Vendome, dropping his spyglass, moaned out, 'Mirabeauis dead, then!' Nevertheless he was not dead: he awoke to breathe, andmiraculous surgery;--for Gabriel was yet to be. With his silver stockhe kept his scarred head erect, through long years; and wedded; andproduced tough Marquis Victor, the Friend of Men. Whereby at last in theappointed year 1749, this long-expected rough-hewn Gabriel Honore didlikewise see the light: roughest lion's-whelp ever littered of thatrough breed. How the old lion (for our old Marquis too was lion-like, most unconquerable, kingly-genial, most perverse) gazed wonderingly onhis offspring; and determined to train him as no lion had yet been! Itis in vain, O Marquis! This cub, though thou slay him and flay him, willnot learn to draw in dogcart of Political Economy, and be a Friend ofMen; he will not be Thou, must and will be Himself, another than Thou. Divorce lawsuits, 'whole family save one in prison, and three-scoreLettres-de-Cachet' for thy own sole use, do but astonish the world. Our Luckless Gabriel, sinned against and sinning, has been in the Isleof Rhe, and heard the Atlantic from his tower; in the Castle of If, andheard the Mediterranean at Marseilles. He has been in the Fortress ofJoux; and forty-two months, with hardly clothing to his back, in theDungeon of Vincennes;--all by Lettre-de-Cachet, from his lion father. He has been in Pontarlier Jails (self-constituted prisoner); was noticedfording estuaries of the sea (at low water), in flight from the face ofmen. He has pleaded before Aix Parlements (to get back his wife);the public gathering on roofs, to see since they could not hear: "theclatter-teeth (claque-dents)!" snarles singular old Mirabeau; discerningin such admired forensic eloquence nothing but two clattering jaw-bones, and a head vacant, sonorous, of the drum species. But as for Gabriel Honore, in these strange wayfarings, what has he notseen and tried! From drill-sergeants, to prime-ministers, to foreign anddomestic booksellers, all manner of men he has seen. All manner of menhe has gained; for at bottom it is a social, loving heart, that wildunconquerable one:--more especially all manner of women. From theArcher's Daughter at Saintes to that fair young Sophie Madame Monnier, whom he could not but 'steal, ' and be beheaded for--in effigy! Forindeed hardly since the Arabian Prophet lay dead to Ali's admiration, was there seen such a Love-hero, with the strength of thirty men. InWar, again, he has helped to conquer Corsica; fought duels, irregularbrawls; horsewhipped calumnious barons. In Literature, he has written onDespotism, on Lettres-de-Cachet; Erotics Sapphic-Werterean, Obscenities, Profanities; Books on the Prussian Monarchy, on Cagliostro, on Calonne, on the Water Companies of Paris:--each book comparable, we will say, to a bituminous alarum-fire; huge, smoky, sudden! The firepan, thekindling, the bitumen were his own; but the lumber, of rags, old woodand nameless combustible rubbish (for all is fuel to him), was gatheredfrom huckster, and ass-panniers, of every description under heaven. Whereby, indeed, hucksters enough have been heard to exclaim: Out uponit, the fire is mine! Nay, consider it more generally, seldom had man such a talent forborrowing. The idea, the faculty of another man he can make his; theman himself he can make his. "All reflex and echo (tout de reflet et dereverbere)!" snarls old Mirabeau, who can see, but will not. Crabbed oldFriend of Men! it is his sociality, his aggregative nature; and willnow be the quality of all for him. In that forty-years 'struggle againstdespotism, ' he has gained the glorious faculty of self-help, and yetnot lost the glorious natural gift of fellowship, of being helped. Rareunion! This man can live self-sufficing--yet lives also in the life ofother men; can make men love him, work with him: a born king of men! But consider further how, as the old Marquis still snarls, he has "madeaway with (hume, swallowed) all Formulas;"--a fact which, if we meditateit, will in these days mean much. This is no man of system, then; he isonly a man of instincts and insights. A man nevertheless who will glarefiercely on any object; and see through it, and conquer it: for hehas intellect, he has will, force beyond other men. A man not withlogic-spectacles; but with an eye! Unhappily without Decalogue, moralCode or Theorem of any fixed sort; yet not without a strong living Soulin him, and Sincerity there: a Reality, not an Artificiality, not aSham! And so he, having struggled 'forty years against despotism, 'and 'made away with all formulas, ' shall now become the spokesman ofa Nation bent to do the same. For is it not precisely the struggleof France also to cast off despotism; to make away with her oldformulas, --having found them naught, worn out, far from the reality? Shewill make away with such formulas;--and even go bare, if need be, tillshe have found new ones. Towards such work, in such manner, marches he, this singular RiquettiMirabeau. In fiery rough figure, with black Samson-locks under theslouch-hat, he steps along there. A fiery fuliginous mass, which couldnot be choked and smothered, but would fill all France with smoke. And now it has got air; it will burn its whole substance, its wholesmoke-atmosphere too, and fill all France with flame. Strange lot! Fortyyears of that smouldering, with foul fire-damp and vapour enough, thenvictory over that;--and like a burning mountain he blazes heaven-high;and, for twenty-three resplendent months, pours out, in flame and moltenfire-torrents, all that is in him, the Pharos and Wonder-sign of anamazed Europe;--and then lies hollow, cold forever! Pass on, thouquestionable Gabriel Honore, the greatest of them all: in the wholeNational Deputies, in the whole Nation, there is none like and nonesecond to thee. But now if Mirabeau is the greatest, who of these Six Hundred may be themeanest? Shall we say, that anxious, slight, ineffectual-looking man, under thirty, in spectacles; his eyes (were the glasses off) troubled, careful; with upturned face, snuffing dimly the uncertain future-time;complexion of a multiplex atrabiliar colour, the final shade of whichmay be the pale sea-green. (See De Stael, Considerations (ii. 142);Barbaroux, Memoires, &c. ) That greenish-coloured (verdatre) individualis an Advocate of Arras; his name is Maximilien Robespierre. The son ofan Advocate; his father founded mason-lodges under Charles Edward, theEnglish Prince or Pretender. Maximilien the first-born was thriftilyeducated; he had brisk Camille Desmoulins for schoolmate in the Collegeof Louis le Grand, at Paris. But he begged our famed Necklace-Cardinal, Rohan, the patron, to let him depart thence, and resign in favour of ayounger brother. The strict-minded Max departed; home to paternal Arras;and even had a Law-case there and pleaded, not unsuccessfully, 'infavour of the first Franklin thunder-rod. ' With a strict painful mind, an understanding small but clear and ready, he grew in favour withofficial persons, who could foresee in him an excellent man of business, happily quite free from genius. The Bishop, therefore, taking counsel, appoints him Judge of his diocese; and he faithfully does justice tothe people: till behold, one day, a culprit comes whose crime meritshanging; and the strict-minded Max must abdicate, for his consciencewill not permit the dooming of any son of Adam to die. A strict-minded, strait-laced man! A man unfit for Revolutions? Whose small soul, transparent wholesome-looking as small ale, could by no chance fermentinto virulent alegar, --the mother of ever new alegar; till all Francewere grown acetous virulent? We shall see. Between which two extremes of grandest and meanest, so many grand andmean roll on, towards their several destinies, in that Procession! Thereis Cazales, the learned young soldier; who shall become the eloquentorator of Royalism, and earn the shadow of a name. Experienced Mounier, experienced Malouet; whose Presidential Parlementary experience thestream of things shall soon leave stranded. A Petion has left hisgown and briefs at Chartres for a stormier sort of pleading; has notforgotten his violin, being fond of music. His hair is grizzled, thoughhe is still young: convictions, beliefs, placid-unalterable are in thatman; not hindmost of them, belief in himself. A Protestant-clericalRabaut-St. -Etienne, a slender young eloquent and vehement Barnave, willhelp to regenerate France. There are so many of them young. Till thirtythe Spartans did not suffer a man to marry: but how many men here underthirty; coming to produce not one sufficient citizen, but a nation anda world of such! The old to heal up rents; the young to removerubbish:--which latter, is it not, indeed, the task here? Dim, formless from this distance, yet authentically there, thou noticestthe Deputies from Nantes? To us mere clothes-screens, with slouch-hatand cloak, but bearing in their pocket a Cahier of doleances with thissingular clause, and more such in it: 'That the master wigmakers ofNantes be not troubled with new gild-brethren, the actuallyexisting number of ninety-two being more than sufficient!' (HistoireParlementaire, i. 335. ) The Rennes people have elected Farmer Gerard, 'a man of natural sense and rectitude, without any learning. ' He walksthere, with solid step; unique, 'in his rustic farmer-clothes;' whichhe will wear always; careless of short-cloaks and costumes. The nameGerard, or 'Pere Gerard, Father Gerard, ' as they please to call him, will fly far; borne about in endless banter; in Royalist satires, in Republican didactic Almanacks. (Actes des Apotres (by Peltier andothers); Almanach du Pere Gerard (by Collot d'Herbois) &c. &c. ) Asfor the man Gerard, being asked once, what he did, after trial of it, candidly think of this Parlementary work, --"I think, " answered he, "thatthere are a good many scoundrels among us. " so walks Father Gerard;solid in his thick shoes, whithersoever bound. And worthy Doctor Guillotin, whom we hoped to behold one other time?If not here, the Doctor should be here, and we see him with the eyeof prophecy: for indeed the Parisian Deputies are all a little late. Singular Guillotin, respectable practitioner: doomed by a satiricdestiny to the strangest immortal glory that ever kept obscure mortalfrom his resting-place, the bosom of oblivion! Guillotin can improve theventilation of the Hall; in all cases of medical police and hygiene bea present aid: but, greater far, he can produce his 'Report on the PenalCode;' and reveal therein a cunningly devised Beheading Machine, whichshall become famous and world-famous. This is the product of Guillotin'sendeavours, gained not without meditation and reading; which productpopular gratitude or levity christens by a feminine derivative name, asif it were his daughter: La Guillotine! "With my machine, Messieurs, Iwhisk off your head (vous fais sauter la tete) in a twinkling, and youhave no pain;"--whereat they all laugh. (Moniteur Newspaper, ofDecember 1st, 1789 (in Histoire Parlementaire). ) Unfortunate Doctor!For two-and-twenty years he, unguillotined, shall near nothing butguillotine, see nothing but guillotine; then dying, shall through longcenturies wander, as it were, a disconsolate ghost, on the wrong side ofStyx and Lethe; his name like to outlive Caesar's. See Bailly, likewise of Paris, time-honoured Historian of AstronomyAncient and Modern. Poor Bailly, how thy serenely beautifulPhilosophising, with its soft moonshiny clearness and thinness, ends infoul thick confusion--of Presidency, Mayorship, diplomatic Officiality, rabid Triviality, and the throat of everlasting Darkness! Far was it todescend from the heavenly Galaxy to the Drapeau Rouge: beside that fataldung-heap, on that last hell-day, thou must 'tremble, ' though only withcold, 'de froid. ' Speculation is not practice: to be weak is not somiserable; but to be weaker than our task. Wo the day when they mountedthee, a peaceable pedestrian, on that wild Hippogriff of a Democracy;which, spurning the firm earth, nay lashing at the very stars, no yetknown Astolpho could have ridden! In the Commons Deputies there are Merchants, Artists, Men of Letters;three hundred and seventy-four Lawyers; (Bouille, Memoires sur laRevolution Francaise (London, 1797), i. 68. ) and at least one Clergyman:the Abbe Sieyes. Him also Paris sends, among its twenty. Behold him, the light thin man; cold, but elastic, wiry; instinct with the pride ofLogic; passionless, or with but one passion, that of self-conceit. If indeed that can be called a passion, which, in its independentconcentrated greatness, seems to have soared into transcendentalism;and to sit there with a kind of godlike indifference, and look downon passion! He is the man, and wisdom shall die with him. This is theSieyes who shall be System-builder, Constitution-builder General;and build Constitutions (as many as wanted) skyhigh, --which shall allunfortunately fall before he get the scaffolding away. "La Politique, "said he to Dumont, "Polity is a science I think I have completed(achevee). " (Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 64. ) What things, OSieyes, with thy clear assiduous eyes, art thou to see! But were itnot curious to know how Sieyes, now in these days (for he is said to bestill alive) (A. D. 1834. ) looks out on all that Constitution masonry, through the rheumy soberness of extreme age? Might we hope, still withthe old irrefragable transcendentalism? The victorious cause pleased thegods, the vanquished one pleased Sieyes (victa Catoni). Thus, however, amid skyrending vivats, and blessings from every heart, has the Procession of the Commons Deputies rolled by. Next follow the Noblesse, and next the Clergy; concerning both of whomit might be asked, What they specially have come for? Specially, littleas they dream of it, to answer this question, put in a voice of thunder:What are you doing in God's fair Earth and Task-garden; where whosoeveris not working is begging or stealing? Wo, wo to themselves and to all, if they can only answer: Collecting tithes, Preserving game!--Remark, meanwhile, how D'Orleans affects to step before his own Order, andmingle with the Commons. For him are vivats: few for the rest, thoughall wave in plumed 'hats of a feudal cut, ' and have sword onthigh; though among them is D'Antraigues, the young Languedociangentleman, --and indeed many a Peer more or less noteworthy. There are Liancourt, and La Rochefoucault; the liberal AnglomaniacDukes. There is a filially pious Lally; a couple of liberal Lameths. Above all, there is a Lafayette; whose name shall be Cromwell-Grandison, and fill the world. Many a 'formula' has this Lafayette too made awaywith; yet not all formulas. He sticks by the Washington-formula; and bythat he will stick;--and hang by it, as by sure bower-anchor hangs andswings the tight war-ship, which, after all changes of wildest weatherand water, is found still hanging. Happy for him; be it glorious or not!Alone of all Frenchmen he has a theory of the world, and right mind toconform thereto; he can become a hero and perfect character, were itbut the hero of one idea. Note further our old Parlementaryfriend, Crispin-Catiline d'Espremenil. He is returned from theMediterranean Islands, a redhot royalist, repentant to thefinger-ends;--unsettled-looking; whose light, dusky-glowing at best, nowflickers foul in the socket; whom the National Assembly will by and by, to save time, 'regard as in a state of distraction. ' Note lastly thatglobular Younger Mirabeau; indignant that his elder Brother is among theCommons: it is Viscomte Mirabeau; named oftener Mirabeau Tonneau (BarrelMirabeau), on account of his rotundity, and the quantities of strongliquor he contains. There then walks our French Noblesse. All in the old pomp of chivalry:and yet, alas, how changed from the old position; drifted far down fromtheir native latitude, like Arctic icebergs got into the Equatorial sea, and fast thawing there! Once these Chivalry Duces (Dukes, as theyare still named) did actually lead the world, --were it only towardsbattle-spoil, where lay the world's best wages then: moreover, being theablest Leaders going, they had their lion's share, those Duces;which none could grudge them. But now, when so many Looms, improvedPloughshares, Steam-Engines and Bills of Exchange have been invented;and, for battle-brawling itself, men hire Drill-Sergeants ateighteen-pence a-day, --what mean these goldmantled Chivalry Figures, walking there 'in black-velvet cloaks, ' in high-plumed 'hats of a feudalcut'? Reeds shaken in the wind! The Clergy have got up; with Cahiers for abolishing pluralities, enforcing residence of bishops, better payment of tithes. (Hist. Parl. I. 322-27. ) The Dignitaries, we can observe, walk stately, apart fromthe numerous Undignified, --who indeed are properly little other thanCommons disguised in Curate-frocks. Here, however, though by strangeways, shall the Precept be fulfilled, and they that are greatest (muchto their astonishment) become least. For one example, out of many, markthat plausible Gregoire: one day Cure Gregoire shall be a Bishop, whenthe now stately are wandering distracted, as Bishops in partibus. Withother thought, mark also the Abbe Maury: his broad bold face;mouth accurately primmed; full eyes, that ray out intelligence, falsehood, --the sort of sophistry which is astonished you should find itsophistical. Skilfulest vamper-up of old rotten leather, to make it looklike new; always a rising man; he used to tell Mercier, "You will see;I shall be in the Academy before you. " (Mercier, Nouveau Paris. ) Likelyindeed, thou skilfullest Maury; nay thou shalt have a Cardinal's Hat, and plush and glory; but alas, also, in the longrun--mere oblivion, likethe rest of us; and six feet of earth! What boots it, vamping rottenleather on these terms? Glorious in comparison is the livelihood thygood old Father earns, by making shoes, --one may hope, in a sufficientmanner. Maury does not want for audacity. He shall wear pistols, by andby; and at death-cries of "The Lamp-iron;" answer coolly, "Friends, willyou see better there?" But yonder, halting lamely along, thou noticest next BishopTalleyrand-Perigord, his Reverence of Autun. A sardonic grimness liesin that irreverent Reverence of Autun. He will do and suffer strangethings; and will become surely one of the strangest things ever seen, or like to be seen. A man living in falsehood, and on falsehood; yetnot what you can call a false man: there is the specialty! It will be anenigma for future ages, one may hope: hitherto such a product of Natureand Art was possible only for this age of ours, --Age of Paper, and ofthe Burning of Paper. Consider Bishop Talleyrand and Marquis Lafayetteas the topmost of their two kinds; and say once more, looking at whatthey did and what they were, O Tempus ferax rerum! On the whole, however, has not this unfortunate Clergy also drifted inthe Time-stream, far from its native latitude? An anomalous mass ofmen; of whom the whole world has already a dim understanding that it canunderstand nothing. They were once a Priesthood, interpreters of Wisdom, revealers of the Holy that is in Man: a true Clerus (or Inheritance ofGod on Earth): but now?--They pass silently, with such Cahiers as theyhave been able to redact; and none cries, God bless them. King Louis with his Court brings up the rear: he cheerful, in this dayof hope, is saluted with plaudits; still more Necker his Minister. Not so the Queen; on whom hope shines not steadily any more. Ill-fatedQueen! Her hair is already gray with many cares and crosses; herfirst-born son is dying in these weeks: black falsehood has ineffaceablysoiled her name; ineffaceably while this generation lasts. Instead ofVive la Reine, voices insult her with Vive d'Orleans. Of her queenlybeauty little remains except its stateliness; not now gracious, buthaughty, rigid, silently enduring. With a most mixed feeling, whereinjoy has no part, she resigns herself to a day she hoped never to haveseen. Poor Marie Antoinette; with thy quick noble instincts; vehementglancings, vision all-too fitful narrow for the work thou hast to do!O there are tears in store for thee; bitterest wailings, soft womanlymeltings, though thou hast the heart of an imperial Theresa's Daughter. Thou doomed one, shut thy eyes on the future!-- And so, in stately Procession, have passed the Elected of France. Sometowards honour and quick fire-consummation; most towards dishonour; nota few towards massacre, confusion, emigration, desperation: alltowards Eternity!--So many heterogeneities cast together into thefermenting-vat; there, with incalculable action, counteraction, electiveaffinities, explosive developments, to work out healing for a sickmoribund System of Society! Probably the strangest Body of Men, if weconsider well, that ever met together on our Planet on such an errand. So thousandfold complex a Society, ready to burst-up from its infinitedepths; and these men, its rulers and healers, without life-rule forthemselves, --other life-rule than a Gospel according to Jean Jacques!To the wisest of them, what we must call the wisest, man is properly anAccident under the sky. Man is without Duty round him; except it be 'tomake the Constitution. ' He is without Heaven above him, or Hell beneathhim; he has no God in the world. What further or better belief can be said to exist in these TwelveHundred? Belief in high-plumed hats of a feudal cut; in heraldicscutcheons; in the divine right of Kings, in the divine right ofGame-destroyers. Belief, or what is still worse, canting half-belief;or worst of all, mere Macchiavellic pretence-of-belief, --in consecrateddough-wafers, and the godhood of a poor old Italian Man! Neverthelessin that immeasurable Confusion and Corruption, which struggles there soblindly to become less confused and corrupt, there is, as we said, this one salient point of a New Life discernible: the deep fixedDetermination to have done with Shams. A determination, which, consciously or unconsciously, is fixed; which waxes ever more fixed, into very madness and fixed-idea; which in such embodiment as liesprovided there, shall now unfold itself rapidly: monstrous, stupendous, unspeakable; new for long thousands of years!--How has the Heaven'slight, oftentimes in this Earth, to clothe itself in thunder andelectric murkiness; and descend as molten lightning, blasting, ifpurifying! Nay is it not rather the very murkiness, and atmosphericsuffocation, that brings the lightning and the light? The new Evangel, as the old had been, was it to be born in the Destruction of a World? But how the Deputies assisted at High Mass, and heard sermon, andapplauded the preacher, church as it was, when he preached politics;how, next day, with sustained pomp, they are, for the first time, installed in their Salles des Menus (Hall no longer of Amusements), andbecome a States-General, --readers can fancy for themselves. The Kingfrom his estrade, gorgeous as Solomon in all his glory, runs his eyeover that majestic Hall; many-plumed, many-glancing; bright-tintedas rainbow, in the galleries and near side spaces, where Beauty sitsraining bright influence. Satisfaction, as of one that after longvoyaging had got to port, plays over his broad simple face: the innocentKing! He rises and speaks, with sonorous tone, a conceivable speech. With which, still more with the succeeding one-hour and two-hourspeeches of Garde-des-Sceaux and M. Necker, full of nothing butpatriotism, hope, faith, and deficiency of the revenue, --no reader ofthese pages shall be tried. We remark only that, as his Majesty, on finishing the speech, put onhis plumed hat, and the Noblesse according to custom imitated him, ourTiers-Etat Deputies did mostly, not without a shade of fierceness, inlike manner clap-on, and even crush on their slouched hats; and standthere awaiting the issue. (Histoire Parlementaire (i. 356). Mercier, Nouveau Paris, &c. ) Thick buzz among them, between majority and minorityof Couvrezvous, Decrouvrez-vous (Hats off, Hats on)! To which hisMajesty puts end, by taking off his own royal hat again. The session terminates without further accident or omen than this; withwhich, significantly enough, France has opened her States-General. BOOK 1. V. THE THIRD ESTATE Chapter 1. 5. I. Inertia. That exasperated France, in this same National Assembly of hers, hasgot something, nay something great, momentous, indispensable, cannot bedoubted; yet still the question were: Specially what? A question hardto solve, even for calm onlookers at this distance; wholly insoluble toactors in the middle of it. The States-General, created and conflated bythe passionate effort of the whole nation, is there as a thing high andlifted up. Hope, jubilating, cries aloud that it will prove a miraculousBrazen Serpent in the Wilderness; whereon whosoever looks, with faithand obedience, shall be healed of all woes and serpent-bites. We may answer, it will at least prove a symbolic Banner; round which theexasperating complaining Twenty-Five Millions, otherwise isolated andwithout power, may rally, and work--what it is in them to work. Ifbattle must be the work, as one cannot help expecting, then shall itbe a battle-banner (say, an Italian Gonfalon, in its old RepublicanCarroccio); and shall tower up, car-borne, shining in the wind: and withiron tongue peal forth many a signal. A thing of prime necessity; whichwhether in the van or in the centre, whether leading or led and driven, must do the fighting multitude incalculable services. For a season, while it floats in the very front, nay as it were stands solitarythere, waiting whether force will gather round it, this same NationalCarroccio, and the signal-peals it rings, are a main object with us. The omen of the 'slouch-hats clapt on' shows the Commons Deputies tohave made up their minds on one thing: that neither Noblesse nor Clergyshall have precedence of them; hardly even Majesty itself. To suchlength has the Contrat Social, and force of public opinion, carriedus. For what is Majesty but the Delegate of the Nation; delegated, andbargained with (even rather tightly), --in some very singular posture ofaffairs, which Jean Jacques has not fixed the date of? Coming therefore into their Hall, on the morrow, an inorganic massof Six Hundred individuals, these Commons Deputies perceive, withoutterror, that they have it all to themselves. Their Hall is also theGrand or general Hall for all the Three Orders. But the Noblesse andClergy, it would seem, have retired to their two separate Apartments, orHalls; and are there 'verifying their powers, ' not in a conjoint butin a separate capacity. They are to constitute two separate, perhapsseparately-voting Orders, then? It is as if both Noblesse and Clergyhad silently taken for granted that they already were such! Two Ordersagainst one; and so the Third Order to be left in a perpetual minority? Much may remain unfixed; but the negative of that is a thing fixed:in the Slouch-hatted heads, in the French Nation's head. Doublerepresentation, and all else hitherto gained, were otherwise futile, null. Doubtless, the 'powers must be verified;'--doubtless, theCommission, the electoral Documents of your Deputy must be inspectedby his brother Deputies, and found valid: it is the preliminary of all. Neither is this question, of doing it separately or doing it conjointly, a vital one: but if it lead to such? It must be resisted; wise was thatmaxim, Resist the beginnings! Nay were resistance unadvisable, evendangerous, yet surely pause is very natural: pause, with Twenty-fiveMillions behind you, may become resistance enough. --The inorganic massof Commons Deputies will restrict itself to a 'system of inertia, ' andfor the present remain inorganic. Such method, recommendable alike to sagacity and to timidity, do theCommons Deputies adopt; and, not without adroitness, and with ever moretenacity, they persist in it, day after day, week after week. Forsix weeks their history is of the kind named barren; which indeed, asPhilosophy knows, is often the fruitfulest of all. These were theirstill creation-days; wherein they sat incubating! In fact, what theydid was to do nothing, in a judicious manner. Daily the inorganic bodyreassembles; regrets that they cannot get organisation, 'verification ofpowers in common, and begin regenerating France. Headlong motions may bemade, but let such be repressed; inertia alone is at once unpunishableand unconquerable. Cunning must be met by cunning; proud pretension by inertia, by a lowtone of patriotic sorrow; low, but incurable, unalterable. Wise asserpents; harmless as doves: what a spectacle for France! Six Hundredinorganic individuals, essential for its regeneration and salvation, sitthere, on their elliptic benches, longing passionately towards life;in painful durance; like souls waiting to be born. Speeches are spoken;eloquent; audible within doors and without. Mind agitates itself againstmind; the Nation looks on with ever deeper interest. Thus do the CommonsDeputies sit incubating. There are private conclaves, supper-parties, consultations; Breton Club, Club of Viroflay; germs of many Clubs. Wholly an element of confusednoise, dimness, angry heat;--wherein, however, the Eros-egg, kept at thefit temperature, may hover safe, unbroken till it be hatched. In yourMouniers, Malouets, Lechapeliers in science sufficient for that; fervourin your Barnaves, Rabauts. At times shall come an inspiration from royalMirabeau: he is nowise yet recognised as royal; nay he was 'groanedat, ' when his name was first mentioned: but he is struggling towardsrecognition. In the course of the week, the Commons having called their Eldest tothe chair, and furnished him with young stronger-lunged assistants, --canspeak articulately; and, in audible lamentable words, declare, aswe said, that they are an inorganic body, longing to become organic. Letters arrive; but an inorganic body cannot open letters; they lie onthe table unopened. The Eldest may at most procure for himself some kindof List or Muster-roll, to take the votes by, and wait what will betide. Noblesse and Clergy are all elsewhere: however, an eager public crowdsall galleries and vacancies; which is some comfort. With effort, itis determined, not that a Deputation shall be sent, --for how can aninorganic body send deputations?--but that certain individual CommonsMembers shall, in an accidental way, stroll into the Clergy Chamber, and then into the Noblesse one; and mention there, as a thing they havehappened to observe, that the Commons seem to be sitting waiting forthem, in order to verify their powers. That is the wiser method! The Clergy, among whom are such a multitude of Undignified, of mereCommons in Curates' frocks, depute instant respectful answer that theyare, and will now more than ever be, in deepest study as to that verymatter. Contrariwise the Noblesse, in cavalier attitude, reply, afterfour days, that they, for their part, are all verified and constituted;which, they had trusted, the Commons also were; such separateverification being clearly the proper constitutional wisdom-of-ancestorsmethod;--as they the Noblesse will have much pleasure in demonstratingby a Commission of their number, if the Commons will meet them, Commission against Commission! Directly in the rear of which comes adeputation of Clergy, reiterating, in their insidious conciliatory way, the same proposal. Here, then, is a complexity: what will wise Commonssay to this? Warily, inertly, the wise Commons, considering that they are, if not aFrench Third Estate, at least an Aggregate of individuals pretending tosome title of that kind, determine, after talking on it five days, toname such a Commission, --though, as it were, with proviso not to beconvinced: a sixth day is taken up in naming it; a seventh and an eighthday in getting the forms of meeting, place, hour and the like, settled:so that it is not till the evening of the 23rd of May that NoblesseCommission first meets Commons Commission, Clergy acting asConciliators; and begins the impossible task of convincing it. One othermeeting, on the 25th, will suffice: the Commons are inconvincible, theNoblesse and Clergy irrefragably convincing; the Commissions retire;each Order persisting in its first pretensions. (Reported Debates, 6thMay to 1st June, 1789 in Histoire Parlementaire, i. 379-422. ) Thus have three weeks passed. For three weeks, the Third-EstateCarroccio, with far-seen Gonfalon, has stood stockstill, flouting thewind; waiting what force would gather round it. Fancy can conceive the feeling of the Court; and how counsel metcounsel, the loud-sounding inanity whirled in that distracted vortex, where wisdom could not dwell. Your cunningly devised Taxing-Machine hasbeen got together; set up with incredible labour; and stands there, itsthree pieces in contact; its two fly-wheels of Noblesse and Clergy, its huge working-wheel of Tiers-Etat. The two fly-wheels whirl in thesoftest manner; but, prodigious to look upon, the huge working-wheelhangs motionless, refuses to stir! The cunningest engineers are atfault. How will it work, when it does begin? Fearfully, my Friends;and to many purposes; but to gather taxes, or grind court-meal, one mayapprehend, never. Could we but have continued gathering taxes by hand!Messeigneurs d'Artois, Conti, Conde (named Court Triumvirate), theyof the anti-democratic Memoire au Roi, has not their foreboding provedtrue? They may wave reproachfully their high heads; they may beattheir poor brains; but the cunningest engineers can do nothing. Neckerhimself, were he even listened to, begins to look blue. The only thingone sees advisable is to bring up soldiers. New regiments, two, and abattalion of a third, have already reached Paris; others shall get inmarch. Good were it, in all circumstances, to have troops within reach;good that the command were in sure hands. Let Broglie be appointed;old Marshal Duke de Broglie; veteran disciplinarian, of a firmdrill-sergeant morality, such as may be depended on. For, alas, neither are the Clergy, or the very Noblesse what theyshould be; and might be, when so menaced from without: entire, undivided within. The Noblesse, indeed, have their Catiline or CrispinD'Espremenil, dusky-glowing, all in renegade heat; their boisterousBarrel-Mirabeau; but also they have their Lafayettes, Liancourts, Lameths; above all, their D'Orleans, now cut forever from hisCourt-moorings, and musing drowsily of high and highest sea-prizes(for is not he too a son of Henri Quatre, and partial potentialHeir-Apparent?)--on his voyage towards Chaos. From the Clergy again, so numerous are the Cures, actual deserters have run over: two smallparties; in the second party Cure Gregoire. Nay there is talk of awhole Hundred and Forty-nine of them about to desert in mass, and onlyrestrained by an Archbishop of Paris. It seems a losing game. But judge if France, if Paris sat idle, all this while! Addresses fromfar and near flow in: for our Commons have now grown organic enough toopen letters. Or indeed to cavil at them! Thus poor Marquis de Breze, Supreme Usher, Master of Ceremonies, or whatever his title was, writingabout this time on some ceremonial matter, sees no harm in winding upwith a 'Monsieur, yours with sincere attachment. '--"To whom does itaddress itself, this sincere attachment?" inquires Mirabeau. "To theDean of the Tiers-Etat. "--"There is no man in France entitled to writethat, " rejoins he; whereat the Galleries and the World will not be keptfrom applauding. (Moniteur (in Histoire Parlementaire, i. 405). ) PoorDe Breze! These Commons have a still older grudge at him; nor has he yetdone with them. In another way, Mirabeau has had to protest against the quicksuppression of his Newspaper, Journal of the States-General;--andto continue it under a new name. In which act of valour, the ParisElectors, still busy redacting their Cahier, could not but support him, by Address to his Majesty: they claim utmost 'provisory freedom ofthe press;' they have spoken even about demolishing the Bastille, and erecting a Bronze Patriot King on the site!--These are the richBurghers: but now consider how it went, for example, with such loosemiscellany, now all grown eleutheromaniac, of Loungers, Prowlers, socialNondescripts (and the distilled Rascality of our Planet), as whirlsforever in the Palais Royal;--or what low infinite groan, firstchanging into a growl, comes from Saint-Antoine, and the Twenty-fiveMillions in danger of starvation! There is the indisputablest scarcity of corn;--be it Aristocrat-plot, D'Orleans-plot, of this year; or drought and hail of last year: in cityand province, the poor man looks desolately towards a nameless lot. Andthis States-General, that could make us an age of gold, is forcedto stand motionless; cannot get its powers verified! All industrynecessarily languishes, if it be not that of making motions. In the Palais Royal there has been erected, apparently by subscription, a kind of Wooden Tent (en planches de bois); (Histoire Parlementaire, i. 429. )--most convenient; where select Patriotism can now redactresolutions, deliver harangues, with comfort, let the weather but as itwill. Lively is that Satan-at-Home! On his table, on his chair, inevery cafe, stands a patriotic orator; a crowd round him within; a crowdlistening from without, open-mouthed, through open door and window;with 'thunders of applause for every sentiment of more than commonhardiness. ' In Monsieur Dessein's Pamphlet-shop, close by, you cannotwithout strong elbowing get to the counter: every hour produces itspamphlet, or litter of pamphlets; 'there were thirteen to-day, sixteenyesterday, nine-two last week. ' (Arthur Young, Travels, i. 104. ) Thinkof Tyranny and Scarcity; Fervid-eloquence, Rumour, Pamphleteering;Societe Publicole, Breton Club, Enraged Club;--and whether everytap-room, coffee-room, social reunion, accidental street-group, overwide France, was not an Enraged Club! To all which the Commons Deputies can only listen with a sublime inertiaof sorrow; reduced to busy themselves 'with their internal police. 'Surer position no Deputies ever occupied; if they keep it with skill. Let not the temperature rise too high; break not the Eros-egg till it behatched, till it break itself! An eager public crowds all Galleries andvacancies! 'cannot be restrained from applauding. ' The two PrivilegedOrders, the Noblesse all verified and constituted, may look on with whatface they will; not without a secret tremor of heart. The Clergy, alwaysacting the part of conciliators, make a clutch at the Galleries, and thepopularity there; and miss it. Deputation of them arrives, with dolorousmessage about the 'dearth of grains, ' and the necessity there is ofcasting aside vain formalities, and deliberating on this. An insidiousproposal; which, however, the Commons (moved thereto by seagreenRobespierre) dexterously accept as a sort of hint, or even pledge, that the Clergy will forthwith come over to them, constitutethe States-General, and so cheapen grains! (Bailly, Memoires, i. 114. )--Finally, on the 27th day of May, Mirabeau, judging the timenow nearly come, proposes that 'the inertia cease;' that, leaving theNoblesse to their own stiff ways, the Clergy be summoned, 'in thename of the God of Peace, ' to join the Commons, and begin. (HistoireParlementaire, i. 413. ) To which summons if they turn a deaf ear, --weshall see! Are not one Hundred and Forty-nine of them ready to desert? O Triumvirate of Princes, new Garde-des-Sceaux Barentin, thouHome-Secretary Breteuil, Duchess Polignac, and Queen eager tolisten, --what is now to be done? This Third Estate will get inmotion, with the force of all France in it; Clergy-machinery withNoblesse-machinery, which were to serve as beautiful counter-balancesand drags, will be shamefully dragged after it, --and take fire alongwith it. What is to be done? The Oeil-de-Boeuf waxes more confused thanever. Whisper and counter-whisper; a very tempest of whispers! Leadingmen from all the Three Orders are nightly spirited thither; conjurorsmany of them; but can they conjure this? Necker himself were nowwelcome, could he interfere to purpose. Let Necker interfere, then; and in the King's name! Happily thatincendiary 'God-of-Peace' message is not yet answered. The Three Ordersshall again have conferences; under this Patriot Minister of theirs, somewhat may be healed, clouted up;--we meanwhile getting forward SwissRegiments, and a 'hundred pieces of field-artillery. ' This is what theOeil-de-Boeuf, for its part, resolves on. But as for Necker--Alas, poor Necker, thy obstinate Third Estate hasone first-last word, verification in common, as the pledge of voting anddeliberating in common! Half-way proposals, from such a tried friend, they answer with a stare. The tardy conferences speedily break up;the Third Estate, now ready and resolute, the whole world backingit, returns to its Hall of the Three Orders; and Necker to theOeil-de-Boeuf, with the character of a disconjured conjuror there--fitonly for dismissal. (Debates, 1st to 17th June 1789 (in HistoireParlementaire, i. 422-478). ) And so the Commons Deputies are at last on their own strength gettingunder way? Instead of Chairman, or Dean, they have now got a President:Astronomer Bailly. Under way, with a vengeance! With endless vociferousand temperate eloquence, borne on Newspaper wings to all lands, theyhave now, on this 17th day of June, determined that their name isnot Third Estate, but--National Assembly! They, then, are the Nation?Triumvirate of Princes, Queen, refractory Noblesse and Clergy, what, then, are you? A most deep question;--scarcely answerable in livingpolitical dialects. All regardless of which, our new National Assembly proceeds to appointa 'committee of subsistences;' dear to France, though it can find littleor no grain. Next, as if our National Assembly stood quite firm on itslegs, --to appoint 'four other standing committees;' then to settle thesecurity of the National Debt; then that of the Annual Taxation: allwithin eight-and-forty hours. At such rate of velocity it is going: theconjurors of the Oeil-de-Boeuf may well ask themselves, Whither? Chapter 1. 5. II. Mercury de Breze. Now surely were the time for a 'god from the machine;' there is a nodusworthy of one. The only question is, Which god? Shall it be Mars deBroglie, with his hundred pieces of cannon?--Not yet, answers prudence;so soft, irresolute is King Louis. Let it be Messenger Mercury, ourSupreme Usher de Breze. On the morrow, which is the 20th of June, these Hundred and Forty-ninefalse Curates, no longer restrainable by his Grace of Paris, will desertin a body: let De Breze intervene, and produce--closed doors! Not onlyshall there be Royal Session, in that Salle des Menus; but no meeting, nor working (except by carpenters), till then. Your Third Estate, self-styled 'National Assembly, ' shall suddenly see itself extrudedfrom its Hall, by carpenters, in this dexterous way; and reduced to donothing, not even to meet, or articulately lament, --till Majesty, withSeance Royale and new miracles, be ready! In this manner shall De Breze, as Mercury ex machina, intervene; and, if the Oeil-de-Boeuf mistake not, work deliverance from the nodus. Of poor De Breze we can remark that he has yet prospered in none of hisdealings with these Commons. Five weeks ago, when they kissed the handof Majesty, the mode he took got nothing but censure; and then his'sincere attachment, ' how was it scornfully whiffed aside! Beforesupper, this night, he writes to President Bailly, a new Letter, to bedelivered shortly after dawn tomorrow, in the King's name. Which Letter, however, Bailly in the pride of office, will merely crush together intohis pocket, like a bill he does not mean to pay. Accordingly on Saturday morning the 20th of June, shrill-soundingheralds proclaim through the streets of Versailles, that there is to bea Seance Royale next Monday; and no meeting of the States-General tillthen. And yet, we observe, President Bailly in sound of this, and withDe Breze's Letter in his pocket, is proceeding, with National Assemblyat his heels, to the accustomed Salles des Menus; as if De Breze andheralds were mere wind. It is shut, this Salle; occupied by GardesFrancaises. "Where is your Captain?" The Captain shows his royal order:workmen, he is grieved to say, are all busy setting up the platform forhis Majesty's Seance; most unfortunately, no admission; admission, atfurthest, for President and Secretaries to bring away papers, which thejoiners might destroy!--President Bailly enters with Secretaries;and returns bearing papers: alas, within doors, instead of patrioticeloquence, there is now no noise but hammering, sawing, and operativescreeching and rumbling! A profanation without parallel. The Deputies stand grouped on the Paris Road, on this umbrageous Avenuede Versailles; complaining aloud of the indignity done them. Courtiers, it is supposed, look from their windows, and giggle. The morning isnone of the comfortablest: raw; it is even drizzling a little. (Bailly, Memoires, i. 185-206. ) But all travellers pause; patriot gallery-men, miscellaneous spectators increase the groups. Wild counsels alternate. Some desperate Deputies propose to go and hold session on the greatouter Staircase at Marly, under the King's windows; for his Majesty, it seems, has driven over thither. Others talk of making the ChateauForecourt, what they call Place d'Armes, a Runnymede and new Champde Mai of free Frenchmen: nay of awakening, to sounds of indignantPatriotism, the echoes of the Oeil-de-boeuf itself. --Notice is giventhat President Bailly, aided by judicious Guillotin and others, hasfound place in the Tennis-Court of the Rue St. Francois. Thither, inlong-drawn files, hoarse-jingling, like cranes on wing, the CommonsDeputies angrily wend. Strange sight was this in the Rue St. Francois, Vieux Versailles! Anaked Tennis-Court, as the pictures of that time still give it: fourwalls; naked, except aloft some poor wooden penthouse, or roofedspectators'-gallery, hanging round them:--on the floor not now an idleteeheeing, a snapping of balls and rackets; but the bellowing din of anindignant National Representation, scandalously exiled hither! However, a cloud of witnesses looks down on them, from wooden penthouse, fromwall-top, from adjoining roof and chimney; rolls towards them from allquarters, with passionate spoken blessings. Some table can be procuredto write on; some chair, if not to sit on, then to stand on. TheSecretaries undo their tapes; Bailly has constituted the Assembly. Experienced Mounier, not wholly new to such things, in Parlementaryrevolts, which he has seen or heard of, thinks that it were well, inthese lamentable threatening circumstances, to unite themselves by anOath. --Universal acclamation, as from smouldering bosoms getting vent!The Oath is redacted; pronounced aloud by President Bailly, --and indeedin such a sonorous tone, that the cloud of witnesses, even outdoors, hear it, and bellow response to it. Six hundred right-hands rise withPresident Bailly's, to take God above to witness that they willnot separate for man below, but will meet in all places, under allcircumstances, wheresoever two or three can get together, till they havemade the Constitution. Made the Constitution, Friends! That is a longtask. Six hundred hands, meanwhile, will sign as they have sworn:six hundred save one; one Loyalist Abdiel, still visible by this solelight-point, and nameable, poor 'M. Martin d'Auch, from Castelnaudary, in Languedoc. ' Him they permit to sign or signify refusal; they evensave him from the cloud of witnesses, by declaring 'his head deranged. 'At four o'clock, the signatures are all appended; new meeting is fixedfor Monday morning, earlier than the hour of the Royal Session; that ourHundred and Forty-nine Clerical deserters be not balked: we shall meet'at the Recollets Church or elsewhere, ' in hope that our Hundred andForty-nine will join us;--and now it is time to go to dinner. This, then, is the Session of the Tennis-Court, famed Seance du Jeu dePaume; the fame of which has gone forth to all lands. This is Mercuriusde Breze's appearance as Deus ex machina; this is the fruit it brings!The giggle of Courtiers in the Versailles Avenue has already diedinto gaunt silence. Did the distracted Court, with Gardes-des-SceauxBarentin, Triumvirate and Company, imagine that they could scatter sixhundred National Deputies, big with a National Constitution, like asmuch barndoor poultry, big with next to nothing, --by the white or blackrod of a Supreme Usher? Barndoor poultry fly cackling: but NationalDeputies turn round, lion-faced; and, with uplifted right-hand, swear anOath that makes the four corners of France tremble. President Bailly has covered himself with honour; which shall becomerewards. The National Assembly is now doubly and trebly the Nation'sAssembly; not militant, martyred only, but triumphant; insulted, andwhich could not be insulted. Paris disembogues itself once more, to witness, 'with grim looks, ' the Seance Royale: (See Arthur Young(Travels, i. 115-118); A. Lameth, &c. ) which, by a new felicity, is postponed till Tuesday. The Hundred and Forty-nine, and even withBishops among them, all in processional mass, have had free leisureto march off, and solemnly join the Commons sitting waiting in theirChurch. The Commons welcomed them with shouts, with embracings, naywith tears; (Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, c. 4. ) for it is growing alife-and-death matter now. As for the Seance itself, the Carpenters seem to have accomplished theirplatform; but all else remains unaccomplished. Futile, we may say fatal, was the whole matter. King Louis enters, through seas of people, allgrim-silent, angry with many things, --for it is a bitter rain too. Enters, to a Third Estate, likewise grim-silent; which has been wettedwaiting under mean porches, at back-doors, while Court and Privilegedwere entering by the front. King and Garde-des-Sceaux (there isno Necker visible) make known, not without longwindedness, thedeterminations of the royal breast. The Three Orders shall voteseparately. On the other hand, France may look for considerableconstitutional blessings; as specified in these Five-and-thirtyArticles, (Histoire Parlementaire, i. 13. ) which Garde-des-Sceaux iswaxing hoarse with reading. Which Five-and-Thirty Articles, adds hisMajesty again rising, if the Three Orders most unfortunately cannotagree together to effect them, I myself will effect: "seul je feraile bien de mes peuples, "--which being interpreted may signify, You, contentious Deputies of the States-General, have probably not long to behere! But, in fine, all shall now withdraw for this day; and meet again, each Order in its separate place, to-morrow morning, for despatch ofbusiness. This is the determination of the royal breast: pithy andclear. And herewith King, retinue, Noblesse, majority of Clergy fileout, as if the whole matter were satisfactorily completed. These file out; through grim-silent seas of people. Only the CommonsDeputies file not out; but stand there in gloomy silence, uncertain whatthey shall do. One man of them is certain; one man of them discerns anddares! It is now that King Mirabeau starts to the Tribune, and lifts uphis lion-voice. Verily a word in season; for, in such scenes, the momentis the mother of ages! Had not Gabriel Honore been there, --one can wellfancy, how the Commons Deputies, affrighted at the perils which nowyawned dim all round them, and waxing ever paler in each other'spaleness, might very naturally, one after one, have glided off; and thewhole course of European History have been different! But he is there. List to the brool of that royal forest-voice;sorrowful, low; fast swelling to a roar! Eyes kindle at the glance ofhis eye:--National Deputies were missioned by a Nation; they havesworn an Oath; they--but lo! while the lion's voice roars loudest, what Apparition is this? Apparition of Mercurius de Breze, mutteringsomewhat!--"Speak out, " cry several. --"Messieurs, " shrills De Breze, repeating himself, "You have heard the King's orders!"--Mirabeau glareson him with fire-flashing face; shakes the black lion's mane: "Yes, Monsieur, we have heard what the King was advised to say: and you whocannot be the interpreter of his orders to the States-General; you, who have neither place nor right of speech here; you are not the man toremind us of it. Go, Monsieur, tell these who sent you that we are hereby the will of the People, and that nothing shall send us hence but theforce of bayonets!" (Moniteur (Hist. Parl. Ii. 22. ). ) And poor De Brezeshivers forth from the National Assembly;--and also (if it be not in onefaintest glimmer, months later) finally from the page of History!-- Hapless De Breze; doomed to survive long ages, in men's memory, in thisfaint way, with tremulent white rod! He was true to Etiquette, whichwas his Faith here below; a martyr to respect of persons. Short woollencloaks could not kiss Majesty's hand as long velvet ones did. Naylately, when the poor little Dauphin lay dead, and some ceremonialVisitation came, was he not punctual to announce it even to theDauphin's dead body: "Monseigneur, a Deputation of the States-General!"(Montgaillard, ii. 38. ) Sunt lachrymae rerum. But what does the Oeil-de-Boeuf, now when De Breze shivers back thither?Despatch that same force of bayonets? Not so: the seas of people stillhang multitudinous, intent on what is passing; nay rush and roll, loud-billowing, into the Courts of the Chateau itself; for a reporthas risen that Necker is to be dismissed. Worst of all, the GardesFrancaises seem indisposed to act: 'two Companies of them do not firewhen ordered!' (Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 26. ) Necker, for not beingat the Seance, shall be shouted for, carried home in triumph; and mustnot be dismissed. His Grace of Paris, on the other hand, has to flywith broken coach-panels, and owe his life to furious driving. TheGardes-du-Corps (Body-Guards), which you were drawing out, had better bedrawn in again. (Bailly, i. 217. ) There is no sending of bayonets to bethought of. Instead of soldiers, the Oeil-de-Boeuf sends--carpenters, to take downthe platform. Ineffectual shift! In few instants, the very carpenterscease wrenching and knocking at their platform; stand on it, hammer inhand, and listen open-mouthed. (Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 23. ) TheThird Estate is decreeing that it is, was, and will be, nothing but aNational Assembly; and now, moreover, an inviolable one, all members ofit inviolable: 'infamous, traitorous, towards the Nation, and guiltyof capital crime, is any person, body-corporate, tribunal, court orcommission that now or henceforth, during the present session or afterit, shall dare to pursue, interrogate, arrest, or cause to be arrested, detain or cause to be detained, any, ' &c. &c. 'on whose part soever thesame be commanded. ' (Montgaillard, ii. 47. ) Which done, one can wind upwith this comfortable reflection from Abbe Sieyes: "Messieurs, you aretoday what you were yesterday. " Courtiers may shriek; but it is, and remains, even so. Theirwell-charged explosion has exploded through the touch-hole; coveringthemselves with scorches, confusion, and unseemly soot! PoorTriumvirate, poor Queen; and above all, poor Queen's Husband, who meanswell, had he any fixed meaning! Folly is that wisdom which is wise onlybehindhand. Few months ago these Thirty-five Concessions had filledFrance with a rejoicing, which might have lasted for several years. Nowit is unavailing, the very mention of it slighted; Majesty's expressorders set at nought. All France is in a roar; a sea of persons, estimated at 'ten thousand, 'whirls 'all this day in the Palais Royal. ' (Arthur Young, i. 119. ) Theremaining Clergy, and likewise some Forty-eight Noblesse, D'Orleansamong them, have now forthwith gone over to the victorious Commons; bywhom, as is natural, they are received 'with acclamation. ' The Third Estate triumphs; Versailles Town shouting round it; tenthousand whirling all day in the Palais Royal; and all France standinga-tiptoe, not unlike whirling! Let the Oeil-de-Boeuf look to it. As forKing Louis, he will swallow his injuries; will temporise, keep silence;will at all costs have present peace. It was Tuesday the 23d of June, when he spoke that peremptory royal mandate; and the week is not donetill he has written to the remaining obstinate Noblesse, that theyalso must oblige him, and give in. D'Espremenil rages his last; BarrelMirabeau 'breaks his sword, ' making a vow, --which he might as well havekept. The 'Triple Family' is now therefore complete; the third erringbrother, the Noblesse, having joined it;--erring but pardonable;soothed, so far as possible, by sweet eloquence from President Bailly. So triumphs the Third Estate; and States-General are become NationalAssembly; and all France may sing Te Deum. By wise inertia, and wisecessation of inertia, great victory has been gained. It is the lastnight of June: all night you meet nothing on the streets of Versaillesbut 'men running with torches' with shouts of jubilation. From the 2ndof May when they kissed the hand of Majesty, to this 30th of June whenmen run with torches, we count seven weeks complete. For seven weeks theNational Carroccio has stood far-seen, ringing many a signal; and, somuch having now gathered round it, may hope to stand. Chapter 1. 5. III. Broglie the War-God. The Court feels indignant that it is conquered; but what then? Anothertime it will do better. Mercury descended in vain; now has the timecome for Mars. --The gods of the Oeil-de-Boeuf have withdrawn into thedarkness of their cloudy Ida; and sit there, shaping and forging whatmay be needful, be it 'billets of a new National Bank, ' munitions ofwar, or things forever inscrutable to men. Accordingly, what means this 'apparatus of troops'? The NationalAssembly can get no furtherance for its Committee of Subsistences; canhear only that, at Paris, the Bakers' shops are besieged; that, in theProvinces, people are living on 'meal-husks and boiled grass. ' But onall highways there hover dust-clouds, with the march of regiments, with the trailing of cannon: foreign Pandours, of fierce aspect;Salis-Samade, Esterhazy, Royal-Allemand; so many of them foreign, tothe number of thirty thousand, --which fear can magnify to fifty:all wending towards Paris and Versailles! Already, on the heights ofMontmartre, is a digging and delving; too like a scarping and trenching. The effluence of Paris is arrested Versailles-ward by a barrier ofcannon at Sevres Bridge. From the Queen's Mews, cannon stand pointed onthe National Assembly Hall itself. The National Assembly has itsvery slumbers broken by the tramp of soldiery, swarming and defiling, endless, or seemingly endless, all round those spaces, at dead of night, 'without drum-music, without audible word of command. ' (A. Lameth, Assemblee Constituante, i. 41. ) What means it? Shall eight, or even shall twelve Deputies, our Mirabeaus, Barnaves atthe head of them, be whirled suddenly to the Castle of Ham; the restignominiously dispersed to the winds? No National Assembly can makethe Constitution with cannon levelled on it from the Queen's Mews!What means this reticence of the Oeil-de-Boeuf, broken only by nods andshrugs? In the mystery of that cloudy Ida, what is it that they forgeand shape?--Such questions must distracted Patriotism keep asking, andreceive no answer but an echo. Enough of themselves! But now, above all, while the hungry food-year, which runs from August to August, is getting older; becoming more andmore a famine-year? With 'meal-husks and boiled grass, ' Brigands mayactually collect; and, in crowds, at farm and mansion, howl angrily, Food! Food! It is in vain to send soldiers against them: at sight ofsoldiers they disperse, they vanish as under ground; then directlyreassemble elsewhere for new tumult and plunder. Frightful enoughto look upon; but what to hear of, reverberated through Twenty-fiveMillions of suspicious minds! Brigands and Broglie, open Conflagration, preternatural Rumour are driving mad most hearts in France. What willthe issue of these things be? At Marseilles, many weeks ago, the Townsmen have taken arms; for'suppressing of Brigands, ' and other purposes: the military commandantmay make of it what he will. Elsewhere, everywhere, could not the likebe done? Dubious, on the distracted Patriot imagination, wavers, as alast deliverance, some foreshadow of a National Guard. But conceive, above all, the Wooden Tent in the Palais Royal! A universal hubbubthere, as of dissolving worlds: their loudest bellows the mad, mad-making voice of Rumour; their sharpest gazes Suspicion into thepale dim World-Whirlpool; discerning shapes and phantasms; imminentbloodthirsty Regiments camped on the Champ-de-Mars; dispersed NationalAssembly; redhot cannon-balls (to burn Paris);--the mad War-god andBellona's sounding thongs. To the calmest man it is becoming too plainthat battle is inevitable. Inevitable, silently nod Messeigneurs and Broglie: Inevitable and brief!Your National Assembly, stopped short in its Constitutional labours, mayfatigue the royal ear with addresses and remonstrances: those cannon ofours stand duly levelled; those troops are here. The King's Declaration, with its Thirty-five too generous Articles, was spoken, was not listenedto; but remains yet unrevoked: he himself shall effect it, seul il fera! As for Broglie, he has his headquarters at Versailles, all as in aseat of war: clerks writing; significant staff-officers, inclined totaciturnity; plumed aides-de-camp, scouts, orderlies flying or hovering. He himself looks forth, important, impenetrable; listens to BesenvalCommandant of Paris, and his warning and earnest counsels (for he hascome out repeatedly on purpose), with a silent smile. (Besenval, iii. 398. ) The Parisians resist? scornfully cry Messeigneurs. As a meal-mobmay! They have sat quiet, these five generations, submitting to all. Their Mercier declared, in these very years, that a Parisian revolt washenceforth 'impossible. ' (Mercier, Tableau de Paris, vi. 22. ) Standby the royal Declaration, of the Twenty-third of June. The Nobles ofFrance, valorous, chivalrous as of old, will rally round us with oneheart;--and as for this which you call Third Estate, and which we callcanaille of unwashed Sansculottes, of Patelins, Scribblers, factiousSpouters, --brave Broglie, 'with a whiff of grapeshot (salve de canons), if need be, will give quick account of it. Thus reason they: on theircloudy Ida; hidden from men, --men also hidden from them. Good is grapeshot, Messeigneurs, on one condition: that the shooter alsowere made of metal! But unfortunately he is made of flesh; under hisbuffs and bandoleers your hired shooter has instincts, feelings, even akind of thought. It is his kindred, bone of his bone, this samecanaille that shall be whiffed; he has brothers in it, a father andmother, --living on meal-husks and boiled grass. His very doxy, not yet'dead i' the spital, ' drives him into military heterodoxy; declares thatif he shed Patriot blood, he shall be accursed among men. The soldier, who has seen his pay stolen by rapacious Foulons, his blood wasted bySoubises, Pompadours, and the gates of promotion shut inexorably on himif he were not born noble, --is himself not without griefs against you. Your cause is not the soldier's cause; but, as would seem, your ownonly, and no other god's nor man's. For example, the world may have heard how, at Bethune lately, when thererose some 'riot about grains, ' of which sort there are so many, and thesoldiers stood drawn out, and the word 'Fire! was given, --not a triggerstirred; only the butts of all muskets rattled angrily against theground; and the soldiers stood glooming, with a mixed expressionof countenance;--till clutched 'each under the arm of a patriothouseholder, ' they were all hurried off, in this manner, to be treatedand caressed, and have their pay increased by subscription! (HistoireParlementaire. ) Neither have the Gardes Francaises, the best regiment of the line, shownany promptitude for street-firing lately. They returned grumbling fromReveillon's; and have not burnt a single cartridge since; nay, as wesaw, not even when bid. A dangerous humour dwells in these Gardes. Notable men too, in their way! Valadi the Pythagorean was, at one time, an officer of theirs. Nay, in the ranks, under the three-cornered feltand cockade, what hard heads may there not be, and reflections goingon, --unknown to the public! One head of the hardest we do now discernthere: on the shoulders of a certain Sergeant Hoche. Lazare Hoche, thatis the name of him; he used to be about the Versailles Royal Stables, nephew of a poor herbwoman; a handy lad; exceedingly addicted toreading. He is now Sergeant Hoche, and can rise no farther: he lays outhis pay in rushlights, and cheap editions of books. (Dictionnaire desHommes Marquans, Londres (Paris), 1800, ii. 198. ) On the whole, the best seems to be: Consign these Gardes Francaisesto their Barracks. So Besenval thinks, and orders. Consigned to theirbarracks, the Gardes Francaises do but form a 'Secret Association, ' anEngagement not to act against the National Assembly. Debauched byValadi the Pythagorean; debauched by money and women! cry Besenvaland innumerable others. Debauched by what you will, or in need of nodebauching, behold them, long files of them, their consignment broken, arrive, headed by their Sergeants, on the 26th day of June, at thePalais Royal! Welcomed with vivats, with presents, and a pledge ofpatriot liquor; embracing and embraced; declaring in words that thecause of France is their cause! Next day and the following days thelike. What is singular too, except this patriot humour, and breakingof their consignment, they behave otherwise with 'the most rigorousaccuracy. ' (Besenval, iii. 394-6. ) They are growing questionable, these Gardes! Eleven ring-leaders of themare put in the Abbaye Prison. It boots not in the least. The imprisonedEleven have only, 'by the hand of an individual, ' to drop, towardsnightfall, a line in the Cafe de Foy; where Patriotism harangues loudeston its table. 'Two hundred young persons, soon waxing to four thousand, 'with fit crowbars, roll towards the Abbaye; smite asunder the needfuldoors; and bear out their Eleven, with other military victims:--tosupper in the Palais Royal Garden; to board, and lodging 'in campbeds, in the Theatre des Varietes;' other national Prytaneum as yet not beingin readiness. Most deliberate! Nay so punctual were these young persons, that finding one military victim to have been imprisoned for real civilcrime, they returned him to his cell, with protest. Why new military force was not called out? New military force was calledout. New military force did arrive, full gallop, with drawn sabre: butthe people gently 'laid hold of their bridles;' the dragoons sheathedtheir swords; lifted their caps by way of salute, and sat like merestatues of dragoons, --except indeed that a drop of liquor being broughtthem, they 'drank to the King and Nation with the greatest cordiality. '(Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 32. ) And now, ask in return, why Messeigneurs and Broglie the great god ofwar, on seeing these things, did not pause, and take some other course, any other course? Unhappily, as we said, they could see nothing. Pride, which goes before a fall; wrath, if not reasonable, yet pardonable, most natural, had hardened their hearts and heated their heads; so, with imbecility and violence (ill-matched pair), they rush to seek theirhour. All Regiments are not Gardes Francaises, or debauched byValadi the Pythagorean: let fresh undebauched Regiments come up; letRoyal-Allemand, Salais-Samade, Swiss Chateau-Vieux come up, --which canfight, but can hardly speak except in German gutturals; let soldiersmarch, and highways thunder with artillery-waggons: Majesty has anew Royal Session to hold, --and miracles to work there! The whiff ofgrapeshot can, if needful, become a blast and tempest. In which circumstances, before the redhot balls begin raining, may notthe Hundred-and-twenty Paris Electors, though their Cahier is long sincefinished, see good to meet again daily, as an 'Electoral Club'? Theymeet first 'in a Tavern;'--where 'the largest wedding-party' cheerfullygive place to them. (Dusaulx, Prise de la Bastille (Collection desMemoires, par Berville et Barriere, Paris, 1821), p. 269. ) But latterlythey meet in the Hotel-de-Ville, in the Townhall itself. Flesselles, Provost of Merchants, with his Four Echevins (Scabins, Assessors), could not prevent it; such was the force of public opinion. He, with hisEchevins, and the Six-and-Twenty Town-Councillors, all appointed fromAbove, may well sit silent there, in their long gowns; and consider, with awed eye, what prelude this is of convulsion coming from Below, andhow themselves shall fare in that! Chapter 1. 5. IV. To Arms! So hangs it, dubious, fateful, in the sultry days of July. It is thepassionate printed advice of M. Marat, to abstain, of all things, fromviolence. (Avis au Peuple, ou les Ministres devoiles, 1st July, 1789in Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 37. ) Nevertheless the hungry poor arealready burning Town Barriers, where Tribute on eatables is levied;getting clamorous for food. The twelfth July morning is Sunday; the streets are all placarded withan enormous-sized De par le Roi, 'inviting peaceable citizens to remainwithin doors, ' to feel no alarm, to gather in no crowd. Why so? Whatmean these 'placards of enormous size'? Above all, what means thisclatter of military; dragoons, hussars, rattling in from all pointsof the compass towards the Place Louis Quinze; with a staid gravity offace, though saluted with mere nicknames, hootings and even missiles?(Besenval, iii. 411. ) Besenval is with them. Swiss Guards of his arealready in the Champs Elysees, with four pieces of artillery. Have the destroyers descended on us, then? From the Bridge of Sevres toutmost Vincennes, from Saint-Denis to the Champ-de-Mars, we are begirt!Alarm, of the vague unknown, is in every heart. The Palais Royal hasbecome a place of awestruck interjections, silent shakings of the head:one can fancy with what dolorous sound the noon-tide cannon (which theSun fires at the crossing of his meridian) went off there; bodeful, likean inarticulate voice of doom. (Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 81. ) Arethese troops verily come out 'against Brigands'? Where are the Brigands?What mystery is in the wind?--Hark! a human voice reporting articulatelythe Job's-news: Necker, People's Minister, Saviour of France, isdismissed. Impossible; incredible! Treasonous to the public peace! Sucha voice ought to be choked in the water-works; (Ibid. )--had not thenews-bringer quickly fled. Nevertheless, friends, make of it whatyou will, the news is true. Necker is gone. Necker hies northwardincessantly, in obedient secrecy, since yesternight. We have a newMinistry: Broglie the War-god; Aristocrat Breteuil; Foulon who said thepeople might eat grass! Rumour, therefore, shall arise; in the Palais Royal, and in broadFrance. Paleness sits on every face; confused tremor and fremescence;waxing into thunder-peals, of Fury stirred on by Fear. But see Camille Desmoulins, from the Cafe de Foy, rushing out, sibyllinein face; his hair streaming, in each hand a pistol! He springs to atable: the Police satellites are eyeing him; alive they shall nottake him, not they alive him alive. This time he speaks withoutstammering:--Friends, shall we die like hunted hares? Like sheep houndedinto their pinfold; bleating for mercy, where is no mercy, but only awhetted knife? The hour is come; the supreme hour of Frenchman and Man;when Oppressors are to try conclusions with Oppressed; and the word is, swift Death, or Deliverance forever. Let such hour be well-come! Us, meseems, one cry only befits: To Arms! Let universal Paris, universalFrance, as with the throat of the whirlwind, sound only: To arms!--"Toarms!" yell responsive the innumerable voices: like one great voice, asof a Demon yelling from the air: for all faces wax fire-eyed, all heartsburn up into madness. In such, or fitter words, (Ibid. ) does Camilleevoke the Elemental Powers, in this great moment. --Friends, continuesCamille, some rallying sign! Cockades; green ones;--the colour ofhope!--As with the flight of locusts, these green tree leaves; greenribands from the neighbouring shops; all green things are snatched, and made cockades of. Camille descends from his table, 'stifled withembraces, wetted with tears;' has a bit of green riband handed him;sticks it in his hat. And now to Curtius' Image-shop there; to theBoulevards; to the four winds; and rest not till France be on fire!(Vieux Cordelier, par Camille Desmoulins, No. 5 (reprinted in Collectiondes Memoires, par Baudouin Freres, Paris, 1825), p. 81. ) France, so long shaken and wind-parched, is probably at the rightinflammable point. --As for poor Curtius, who, one grieves to think, might be but imperfectly paid, --he cannot make two words about hisImages. The Wax-bust of Necker, the Wax-bust of D'Orleans, helpers ofFrance: these, covered with crape, as in funeral procession, or afterthe manner of suppliants appealing to Heaven, to Earth, and Tartarusitself, a mixed multitude bears off. For a sign! As indeed man, with hissingular imaginative faculties, can do little or nothing without signs:thus Turks look to their Prophet's banner; also Osier Mannikins havebeen burnt, and Necker's Portrait has erewhile figured, aloft on itsperch. In this manner march they, a mixed, continually increasing multitude;armed with axes, staves and miscellanea; grim, many-sounding, throughthe streets. Be all Theatres shut; let all dancing, on planked floor, or on the natural greensward, cease! Instead of a Christian Sabbath, andfeast of guinguette tabernacles, it shall be a Sorcerer's Sabbath; andParis, gone rabid, dance, --with the Fiend for piper! However, Besenval, with horse and foot, is in the Place Louis Quinze. Mortals promenading homewards, in the fall of the day, saunter by, fromChaillot or Passy, from flirtation and a little thin wine; with sadderstep than usual. Will the Bust-Procession pass that way! Behold it;behold also Prince Lambesc dash forth on it, with his Royal-Allemands!Shots fall, and sabre-strokes; Busts are hewn asunder; and, alas, alsoheads of men. A sabred Procession has nothing for it but to explode, along what streets, alleys, Tuileries Avenues it finds; and disappear. One unarmed man lies hewed down; a Garde Francaise by his uniform:bear him (or bear even the report of him) dead and gory to hisBarracks;--where he has comrades still alive! But why not now, victorious Lambesc, charge through that TuileriesGarden itself, where the fugitives are vanishing? Not show the Sundaypromenaders too, how steel glitters, besprent with blood; that it betold of, and men's ears tingle?--Tingle, alas, they did; but thewrong way. Victorious Lambesc, in this his second or Tuileries charge, succeeds but in overturning (call it not slashing, for he struckwith the flat of his sword) one man, a poor old schoolmaster, mostpacifically tottering there; and is driven out, by barricade of chairs, by flights of 'bottles and glasses, ' by execrations in bass voice andtreble. Most delicate is the mob-queller's vocation; wherein Too-muchmay be as bad as Not-enough. For each of these bass voices, and moreeach treble voice, borne to all points of the City, rings now nothingbut distracted indignation; will ring all another. The cry, To arms!roars tenfold; steeples with their metal storm-voice boom out, as thesun sinks; armorer's shops are broken open, plundered; the streets are aliving foam-sea, chafed by all the winds. Such issue came of Lambesc's charge on the Tuileries Garden: no strikingof salutary terror into Chaillot promenaders; a striking into broadwakefulness of Frenzy and the three Furies, --which otherwise were notasleep! For they lie always, those subterranean Eumenides (fabulousand yet so true), in the dullest existence of man;--and can dance, brandishing their dusky torches, shaking their serpent-hair. Lambescwith Royal-Allemand may ride to his barracks, with curses for hismarching-music; then ride back again, like one troubled in mind:vengeful Gardes Francaises, sacreing, with knit brows, start out onhim, from their barracks in the Chaussee d'Antin; pour a volley into him(killing and wounding); which he must not answer, but ride on. (Weber, ii. 75-91. ) Counsel dwells not under the plumed hat. If the Eumenides awaken, andBroglie has given no orders, what can a Besenval do? When the GardesFrancaises, with Palais-Royal volunteers, roll down, greedy of morevengeance, to the Place Louis Quinze itself, they find neither Besenval, Lambesc, Royal-Allemand, nor any soldier now there. Gone is militaryorder. On the far Eastern Boulevard, of Saint-Antoine, the ChasseursNormandie arrive, dusty, thirsty, after a hard day's ride; but can findno billet-master, see no course in this City of confusions; cannot getto Besenval, cannot so much as discover where he is: Normandie must evenbivouac there, in its dust and thirst, --unless some patriot will treatit to a cup of liquor, with advices. Raging multitudes surround the Hotel-de-Ville, crying: Arms! Orders!The Six-and-twenty Town-Councillors, with their long gowns, have duckedunder (into the raging chaos);--shall never emerge more. Besenval ispainfully wriggling himself out, to the Champ-de-Mars; he must sit there'in the cruelest uncertainty:' courier after courier may dash off forVersailles; but will bring back no answer, can hardly bring himselfback. For the roads are all blocked with batteries and pickets, withfloods of carriages arrested for examination: such was Broglie's onesole order; the Oeil-de-Boeuf, hearing in the distance such mad din, which sounded almost like invasion, will before all things keep itsown head whole. A new Ministry, with, as it were, but one foot in thestirrup, cannot take leaps. Mad Paris is abandoned altogether to itself. What a Paris, when the darkness fell! A European metropolitan Cityhurled suddenly forth from its old combinations and arrangements; tocrash tumultuously together, seeking new. Use and wont will now nolonger direct any man; each man, with what of originality he has, mustbegin thinking; or following those that think. Seven hundred thousandindividuals, on the sudden, find all their old paths, old ways of actingand deciding, vanish from under their feet. And so there go they, withclangour and terror, they know not as yet whether running, swimmingor flying, --headlong into the New Era. With clangour and terror: fromabove, Broglie the war-god impends, preternatural, with his redhotcannon-balls; and from below, a preternatural Brigand-world menaces withdirk and firebrand: madness rules the hour. Happily, in place of the submerged Twenty-six, the Electoral Club isgathering; has declared itself a 'Provisional Municipality. ' On themorrow it will get Provost Flesselles, with an Echevin or two, to givehelp in many things. For the present it decrees one most essentialthing: that forthwith a 'Parisian Militia' shall be enrolled. Depart, ye heads of Districts, to labour in this great work; while we here, inPermanent Committee, sit alert. Let fencible men, each party in itsown range of streets, keep watch and ward, all night. Let Paris court alittle fever-sleep; confused by such fever-dreams, of 'violent motionsat the Palais Royal;'--or from time to time start awake, and lookout, palpitating, in its nightcap, at the clash of discordantmutually-unintelligible Patrols; on the gleam of distant Barriers, goingup all-too ruddy towards the vault of Night. (Deux Amis, i. 267-306. ) Chapter 1. 5. V. Give us Arms. On Monday the huge City has awoke, not to its week-day industry: to whata different one! The working man has become a fighting man; has one wantonly: that of arms. The industry of all crafts has paused;--except itbe the smith's, fiercely hammering pikes; and, in a faint degree, thekitchener's, cooking off-hand victuals; for bouche va toujours. Womentoo are sewing cockades;--not now of green, which being D'Artois colour, the Hotel-de-Ville has had to interfere in it; but of red and blue, our old Paris colours: these, once based on a ground of constitutionalwhite, are the famed TRICOLOR, --which (if Prophecy err not) 'will goround the world. ' All shops, unless it be the Bakers' and Vintners', are shut: Paris isin the streets;--rushing, foaming like some Venice wine-glass into whichyou had dropped poison. The tocsin, by order, is pealing madly fromall steeples. Arms, ye Elector Municipals; thou Flesselles with thyEchevins, give us arms! Flesselles gives what he can: fallacious, perhaps insidious promises of arms from Charleville; order to seek armshere, order to seek them there. The new Municipals give what they can;some three hundred and sixty indifferent firelocks, the equipment of theCity-Watch: 'a man in wooden shoes, and without coat, directly clutchesone of them, and mounts guard. ' Also as hinted, an order to all Smithsto make pikes with their whole soul. Heads of Districts are in fervent consultation; subordinate Patriotismroams distracted, ravenous for arms. Hitherto at the Hotel-de-Villewas only such modicum of indifferent firelocks as we have seen. Atthe so-called Arsenal, there lies nothing but rust, rubbish andsaltpetre, --overlooked too by the guns of the Bastille. His Majesty'sRepository, what they call Garde-Meuble, is forced and ransacked:tapestries enough, and gauderies; but of serviceable fighting-gear smallstock! Two silver-mounted cannons there are; an ancient gift from hisMajesty of Siam to Louis Fourteenth: gilt sword of the Good Henri;antique Chivalry arms and armour. These, and such as these, anecessitous Patriotism snatches greedily, for want of better. TheSiamese cannons go trundling, on an errand they were not meant for. Among the indifferent firelocks are seen tourney-lances; the princelyhelm and hauberk glittering amid ill-hatted heads, --as in a time whenall times and their possessions are suddenly sent jumbling! At the Maison de Saint-Lazare, Lazar-House once, now a Correction-Housewith Priests, there was no trace of arms; but, on the other hand, corn, plainly to a culpable extent. Out with it, to market; in this scarcityof grains!--Heavens, will 'fifty-two carts, ' in long row, hardly carryit to the Halle aux Bleds? Well, truly, ye reverend Fathers, was yourpantry filled; fat are your larders; over-generous your wine-bins, yeplotting exasperators of the Poor; traitorous forestallers of bread! Vain is protesting, entreaty on bare knees: the House of Saint-Lazarushas that in it which comes not out by protesting. Behold, how, fromevery window, it vomits: mere torrents of furniture, of bellowing andhurlyburly;--the cellars also leaking wine. Till, as was natural, smokerose, --kindled, some say, by the desperate Saint-Lazaristes themselves, desperate of other riddance; and the Establishment vanished from thisworld in flame. Remark nevertheless that 'a thief' (set on or not byAristocrats), being detected there, is 'instantly hanged. ' Look also at the Chatelet Prison. The Debtors' Prison of La Force isbroken from without; and they that sat in bondage to Aristocrats gofree: hearing of which the Felons at the Chatelet do likewise 'digup their pavements, ' and stand on the offensive; with the bestprospects, --had not Patriotism, passing that way, 'fired a volley' intothe Felon world; and crushed it down again under hatches. Patriotismconsorts not with thieving and felony: surely also Punishment, thisday, hitches (if she still hitch) after Crime, with frightfulshoes-of-swiftness! 'Some score or two' of wretched persons, foundprostrate with drink in the cellars of that Saint-Lazare, areindignantly haled to prison; the Jailor has no room; whereupon, otherplace of security not suggesting itself, it is written, 'on les pendit, they hanged them. ' (Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 96. ) Brief is the word;not without significance, be it true or untrue! In such circumstances, the Aristocrat, the unpatriotic rich man ispacking-up for departure. But he shall not get departed. A wooden-shodforce has seized all Barriers, burnt or not: all that enters, all thatseeks to issue, is stopped there, and dragged to the Hotel-de-Ville:coaches, tumbrils, plate, furniture, 'many meal-sacks, ' in time even'flocks and herds' encumber the Place de Greve. (Dusaulx, Prise de laBastille, p. 20. ) And so it roars, and rages, and brays; drums beating, steeples pealing;criers rushing with hand-bells: "Oyez, oyez. All men to their Districtsto be enrolled!" The Districts have met in gardens, open squares; aregetting marshalled into volunteer troops. No redhot ball has yet fallenfrom Besenval's Camp; on the contrary, Deserters with their arms arecontinually dropping in: nay now, joy of joys, at two in the afternoon, the Gardes Francaises, being ordered to Saint-Denis, and flatlydeclining, have come over in a body! It is a fact worth many. Three thousand six hundred of the best fighting men, with completeaccoutrement; with cannoneers even, and cannon! Their officers are leftstanding alone; could not so much as succeed in 'spiking the guns. ' Thevery Swiss, it may now be hoped, Chateau-Vieux and the others, will havedoubts about fighting. Our Parisian Militia, --which some think it were better to name NationalGuard, --is prospering as heart could wish. It promised to be forty-eightthousand; but will in few hours double and quadruple that number:invincible, if we had only arms! But see, the promised Charleville Boxes, marked Artillerie! Here, then, are arms enough?--Conceive the blank face of Patriotism, when it foundthem filled with rags, foul linen, candle-ends, and bits of wood!Provost of the Merchants, how is this? Neither at the Chartreux Convent, whither we were sent with signed order, is there or ever was there anyweapon of war. Nay here, in this Seine Boat, safe under tarpaulings(had not the nose of Patriotism been of the finest), are 'fivethousand-weight of gunpowder;' not coming in, but surreptitiouslygoing out! What meanest thou, Flesselles? 'Tis a ticklish game, that of'amusing' us. Cat plays with captive mouse: but mouse with enraged cat, with enraged National Tiger? Meanwhile, the faster, O ye black-aproned Smiths, smite; with strongarm and willing heart. This man and that, all stroke from head to heel, shall thunder alternating, and ply the great forge-hammer, tillstithy reel and ring again; while ever and anon, overhead, booms thealarm-cannon, --for the City has now got gunpowder. Pikes are fabricated;fifty thousand of them, in six-and-thirty hours: judge whether theBlack-aproned have been idle. Dig trenches, unpave the streets, yeothers, assiduous, man and maid; cram the earth in barrel-barricades, ateach of them a volunteer sentry; pile the whinstones in window-sills andupper rooms. Have scalding pitch, at least boiling water ready, yeweak old women, to pour it and dash it on Royal-Allemand, with yourold skinny arms: your shrill curses along with it will not bewanting!--Patrols of the newborn National Guard, bearing torches, scourthe streets, all that night; which otherwise are vacant, yet illuminatedin every window by order. Strange-looking; like some naphtha-lightedCity of the Dead, with here and there a flight of perturbed Ghosts. O poor mortals, how ye make this Earth bitter for each other; thisfearful and wonderful Life fearful and horrible; and Satan has his placein all hearts! Such agonies and ragings and wailings ye have, and havehad, in all times:--to be buried all, in so deep silence; and the saltsea is not swoln with your tears. Great meanwhile is the moment, when tidings of Freedom reach us; whenthe long-enthralled soul, from amid its chains and squalid stagnancy, arises, were it still only in blindness and bewilderment, and swears byHim that made it, that it will be free! Free? Understand that well, itis the deep commandment, dimmer or clearer, of our whole being, to befree. Freedom is the one purport, wisely aimed at, or unwisely, of allman's struggles, toilings and sufferings, in this Earth. Yes, supreme issuch a moment (if thou have known it): first vision as of a flame-girtSinai, in this our waste Pilgrimage, --which thenceforth wants not itspillar of cloud by day, and pillar of fire by night! Something itis even, --nay, something considerable, when the chains have growncorrosive, poisonous, to be free 'from oppression by our fellow-man. 'Forward, ye maddened sons of France; be it towards this destiny ortowards that! Around you is but starvation, falsehood, corruption andthe clam of death. Where ye are is no abiding. Imagination may, imperfectly, figure how Commandant Besenval, in theChamp-de-Mars, has worn out these sorrowful hours Insurrection allround; his men melting away! From Versailles, to the most pressingmessages, comes no answer; or once only some vague word of answer whichis worse than none. A Council of Officers can decide merely that thereis no decision: Colonels inform him, 'weeping, ' that they do not thinktheir men will fight. Cruel uncertainty is here: war-god Broglie sitsyonder, inaccessible in his Olympus; does not descend terror-clad, doesnot produce his whiff of grapeshot; sends no orders. Truly, in the Chateau of Versailles all seems mystery: in the Town ofVersailles, were we there, all is rumour, alarm and indignation. Anaugust National Assembly sits, to appearance, menaced with death;endeavouring to defy death. It has resolved 'that Necker carries withhim the regrets of the Nation. ' It has sent solemn Deputation over tothe Chateau, with entreaty to have these troops withdrawn. In vain: hisMajesty, with a singular composure, invites us to be busy rather withour own duty, making the Constitution! Foreign Pandours, and suchlike, go pricking and prancing, with a swashbuckler air; with an eye tooprobably to the Salle des Menus, --were it not for the 'grim-lookingcountenances' that crowd all avenues there. (See Lameth; Ferrieres, &c. ) Be firm, ye National Senators; the cynosure of a firm, grim-lookingpeople! The august National Senators determine that there shall, at least, bePermanent Session till this thing end. Wherein, however, consider thatworthy Lafranc de Pompignan, our new President, whom we have namedBailly's successor, is an old man, wearied with many things. He isthe Brother of that Pompignan who meditated lamentably on the Book ofLamentations: Saves-voux pourquoi Jeremie Se lamentait toute sa vie? C'est qu'il prevoyait Que Pompignan le traduirait! Poor Bishop Pompignan withdraws; having got Lafayette for helper orsubstitute: this latter, as nocturnal Vice-President, with a thin housein disconsolate humour, sits sleepless, with lights unsnuffed;--waitingwhat the hours will bring. So at Versailles. But at Paris, agitated Besenval, before retiringfor the night, has stept over to old M. De Sombreuil, of the Hotel desInvalides hard by. M. De Sombreuil has, what is a great secret, someeight-and-twenty thousand stand of muskets deposited in his cellarsthere; but no trust in the temper of his Invalides. This day, forexample, he sent twenty of the fellows down to unscrew those muskets;lest Sedition might snatch at them; but scarcely, in six hours, had thetwenty unscrewed twenty gun-locks, or dogsheads (chiens) of locks, --eachInvalide his dogshead! If ordered to fire, they would, he imagines, turntheir cannon against himself. Unfortunate old military gentlemen, it is your hour, not of glory! OldMarquis de Launay too, of the Bastille, has pulled up his drawbridgeslong since, 'and retired into his interior;' with sentries walkingon his battlements, under the midnight sky, aloft over the glare ofilluminated Paris;--whom a National Patrol, passing that way, takes theliberty of firing at; 'seven shots towards twelve at night, ' which donot take effect. (Deux Amis de la Liberte, i. 312. ) This was the 13thday of July, 1789; a worse day, many said, than the last 13th was, whenonly hail fell out of Heaven, not madness rose out of Tophet, ruiningworse than crops! In these same days, as Chronology will teach us, hot old MarquisMirabeau lies stricken down, at Argenteuil, --not within sound of thesealarm-guns; for he properly is not there, and only the body of him nowlies, deaf and cold forever. It was on Saturday night that he, drawinghis last life-breaths, gave up the ghost there;--leaving a world, whichwould never go to his mind, now broken out, seemingly, into delirationand the culbute generale. What is it to him, departing elsewhither, onhis long journey? The old Chateau Mirabeau stands silent, far off, onits scarped rock, in that 'gorge of two windy valleys;' the pale-fadingspectre now of a Chateau: this huge World-riot, and France, and theWorld itself, fades also, like a shadow on the great still mirror-sea;and all shall be as God wills. Young Mirabeau, sad of heart, for he loved this crabbed brave oldFather, sad of heart, and occupied with sad cares, --is withdrawn fromPublic History. The great crisis transacts itself without him. (FilsAdoptif, Mirabeau, vi. L. 1. ) Chapter 1. 5. VI. Storm and Victory. But, to the living and the struggling, a new, Fourteenth morning dawns. Under all roofs of this distracted City, is the nodus of a drama, notuntragical, crowding towards solution. The bustlings and preparings, the tremors and menaces; the tears that fell from old eyes! This day, mysons, ye shall quit you like men. By the memory of your fathers' wrongs, by the hope of your children's rights! Tyranny impends in red wrath:help for you is none if not in your own right hands. This day ye must door die. From earliest light, a sleepless Permanent Committee has heard theold cry, now waxing almost frantic, mutinous: Arms! Arms! ProvostFlesselles, or what traitors there are among you, may think of thoseCharleville Boxes. A hundred-and-fifty thousand of us; and but the thirdman furnished with so much as a pike! Arms are the one thing needful:with arms we are an unconquerable man-defying National Guard; withoutarms, a rabble to be whiffed with grapeshot. Happily the word has arisen, for no secret can be kept, --that there liemuskets at the Hotel des Invalides. Thither will we: King's ProcureurM. Ethys de Corny, and whatsoever of authority a Permanent Committee canlend, shall go with us. Besenval's Camp is there; perhaps he will notfire on us; if he kill us we shall but die. Alas, poor Besenval, with his troops melting away in that manner, hasnot the smallest humour to fire! At five o'clock this morning, as he laydreaming, oblivious in the Ecole Militaire, a 'figure' stood suddenly athis bedside: 'with face rather handsome; eyes inflamed, speech rapid andcurt, air audacious:' such a figure drew Priam's curtains! The messageand monition of the figure was, that resistance would be hopeless;that if blood flowed, wo to him who shed it. Thus spoke the figure;and vanished. 'Withal there was a kind of eloquence that struckone. ' Besenval admits that he should have arrested him, but did not. (Besenval, iii. 414. ) Who this figure, with inflamed eyes, with speechrapid and curt, might be? Besenval knows but mentions not. CamilleDesmoulins? Pythagorean Marquis Valadi, inflamed with 'violent motionsall night at the Palais Royal?' Fame names him, 'Young M. Meillar';(Tableaux de la Revolution, Prise de la Bastille (a folio Collectionof Pictures and Portraits, with letter-press, not alwaysuninstructive, --part of it said to be by Chamfort). ) Then shuts her lipsabout him for ever. In any case, behold about nine in the morning, our National Volunteersrolling in long wide flood, south-westward to the Hotel des Invalides;in search of the one thing needful. King's procureur M. Ethys de Cornyand officials are there; the Cure of Saint-Etienne du Mont marchesunpacific, at the head of his militant Parish; the Clerks of theBazoche in red coats we see marching, now Volunteers of the Bazoche; theVolunteers of the Palais Royal:--National Volunteers, numerable bytens of thousands; of one heart and mind. The King's muskets are theNation's; think, old M. De Sombreuil, how, in this extremity, thou wiltrefuse them! Old M. De Sombreuil would fain hold parley, send Couriers;but it skills not: the walls are scaled, no Invalide firing a shot;the gates must be flung open. Patriotism rushes in, tumultuous, fromgrundsel up to ridge-tile, through all rooms and passages; rummagingdistractedly for arms. What cellar, or what cranny can escape it? Thearms are found; all safe there; lying packed in straw, --apparently witha view to being burnt! More ravenous than famishing lions over deadprey, the multitude, with clangour and vociferation, pounces on them;struggling, dashing, clutching:--to the jamming-up, to the pressure, fracture and probable extinction, of the weaker Patriot. (Deux Amis, i. 302. ) And so, with such protracted crash of deafening, most discordantOrchestra-music, the Scene is changed: and eight-and-twenty thousandsufficient firelocks are on the shoulders of so many National Guards, lifted thereby out of darkness into fiery light. Let Besenval look at the glitter of these muskets, as they flash by!Gardes Francaises, it is said, have cannon levelled on him; ready toopen, if need were, from the other side of the River. (Besenval, iii. 416. ) Motionless sits he; 'astonished, ' one may flatter oneself, 'atthe proud bearing (fiere contenance) of the Parisians. '--And now, tothe Bastille, ye intrepid Parisians! There grapeshot still threatens;thither all men's thoughts and steps are now tending. Old de Launay, as we hinted, withdrew 'into his interior' soon aftermidnight of Sunday. He remains there ever since, hampered, as allmilitary gentlemen now are, in the saddest conflict of uncertainties. The Hotel-de-Ville 'invites' him to admit National Soldiers, which is asoft name for surrendering. On the other hand, His Majesty's orders wereprecise. His garrison is but eighty-two old Invalides, reinforced bythirty-two young Swiss; his walls indeed are nine feet thick, he hascannon and powder; but, alas, only one day's provision of victuals. Thecity too is French, the poor garrison mostly French. Rigorous old deLaunay, think what thou wilt do! All morning, since nine, there has been a cry everywhere: To theBastille! Repeated 'deputations of citizens' have been here, passionatefor arms; whom de Launay has got dismissed by soft speeches throughportholes. Towards noon, Elector Thuriot de la Rosiere gains admittance;finds de Launay indisposed for surrender; nay disposed for blowing upthe place rather. Thuriot mounts with him to the battlements: heapsof paving-stones, old iron and missiles lie piled; cannon all dulylevelled; in every embrasure a cannon, --only drawn back a little! Butoutwards behold, O Thuriot, how the multitude flows on, welling throughevery street; tocsin furiously pealing, all drums beating the generale:the Suburb Saint-Antoine rolling hitherward wholly, as one man! Suchvision (spectral yet real) thou, O Thuriot, as from thy Mount of Vision, beholdest in this moment: prophetic of what other Phantasmagories, andloud-gibbering Spectral Realities, which, thou yet beholdest not, butshalt! "Que voulez vous?" said de Launay, turning pale at the sight, with an air of reproach, almost of menace. "Monsieur, " said Thuriot, rising into the moral-sublime, "What mean you? Consider if I could notprecipitate both of us from this height, "--say only a hundred feet, exclusive of the walled ditch! Whereupon de Launay fell silent. Thuriotshews himself from some pinnacle, to comfort the multitude becomingsuspicious, fremescent: then descends; departs with protest; withwarning addressed also to the Invalides, --on whom, however, it producesbut a mixed indistinct impression. The old heads are none of theclearest; besides, it is said, de Launay has been profuse of beverages(prodigua des buissons). They think, they will not fire, --if not firedon, if they can help it; but must, on the whole, be ruled considerablyby circumstances. Wo to thee, de Launay, in such an hour, if thou canst not, taking someone firm decision, rule circumstances! Soft speeches will not serve;hard grape-shot is questionable; but hovering between the two isunquestionable. Ever wilder swells the tide of men; their infinite humwaxing ever louder, into imprecations, perhaps into crackle of straymusketry, --which latter, on walls nine feet thick, cannot do execution. The Outer Drawbridge has been lowered for Thuriot; new deputation ofcitizens (it is the third, and noisiest of all) penetrates that wayinto the Outer Court: soft speeches producing no clearance of these, deLaunay gives fire; pulls up his Drawbridge. A slight sputter;--which haskindled the too combustible chaos; made it a roaring fire-chaos! Burstsforth insurrection, at sight of its own blood (for there were deathsby that sputter of fire), into endless rolling explosion of musketry, distraction, execration;--and overhead, from the Fortress, let one greatgun, with its grape-shot, go booming, to shew what we could do. TheBastille is besieged! On, then, all Frenchmen that have hearts in their bodies! Roar withall your throats, of cartilage and metal, ye Sons of Liberty; stirspasmodically whatsoever of utmost faculty is in you, soul, body orspirit; for it is the hour! Smite, thou Louis Tournay, cartwright ofthe Marais, old-soldier of the Regiment Dauphine; smite at that OuterDrawbridge chain, though the fiery hail whistles round thee! Never, overnave or felloe, did thy axe strike such a stroke. Down with it, man;down with it to Orcus: let the whole accursed Edifice sink thither, andTyranny be swallowed up for ever! Mounted, some say on the roof of theguard-room, some 'on bayonets stuck into joints of the wall, ' LouisTournay smites, brave Aubin Bonnemere (also an old soldier) secondinghim: the chain yields, breaks; the huge Drawbridge slams down, thundering (avec fracas). Glorious: and yet, alas, it is still but theoutworks. The Eight grim Towers, with their Invalides' musketry, theirpaving stones and cannon-mouths, still soar aloft intact;--Ditch yawningimpassable, stone-faced; the inner Drawbridge with its back towards us:the Bastille is still to take! To describe this Siege of the Bastille (thought to be one of the mostimportant in history) perhaps transcends the talent of mortals. Couldone but, after infinite reading, get to understand so much as the planof the building! But there is open Esplanade, at the end of the RueSaint-Antoine; there are such Forecourts, Cour Avance, Cour de l'Orme, arched Gateway (where Louis Tournay now fights); then new drawbridges, dormant-bridges, rampart-bastions, and the grim Eight Towers: alabyrinthic Mass, high-frowning there, of all ages from twenty yearsto four hundred and twenty;--beleaguered, in this its last hour, as wesaid, by mere Chaos come again! Ordnance of all calibres; throats of allcapacities; men of all plans, every man his own engineer: seldom sincethe war of Pygmies and Cranes was there seen so anomalous a thing. Half-pay Elie is home for a suit of regimentals; no one would heed himin coloured clothes: half-pay Hulin is haranguing Gardes Francaises inthe Place de Greve. Frantic Patriots pick up the grape-shots; bearthem, still hot (or seemingly so), to the Hotel-de-Ville:--Paris, youperceive, is to be burnt! Flesselles is 'pale to the very lips' for theroar of the multitude grows deep. Paris wholly has got to theacme of its frenzy; whirled, all ways, by panic madness. Atevery street-barricade, there whirls simmering, a minorwhirlpool, --strengthening the barricade, since God knows what iscoming; and all minor whirlpools play distractedly into that grandFire-Mahlstrom which is lashing round the Bastille. And so it lashes and it roars. Cholat the wine-merchant has become animpromptu cannoneer. See Georget, of the Marine Service, fresh fromBrest, ply the King of Siam's cannon. Singular (if we were not used tothe like): Georget lay, last night, taking his ease at his inn; the Kingof Siam's cannon also lay, knowing nothing of him, for a hundred years. Yet now, at the right instant, they have got together, and discourseeloquent music. For, hearing what was toward, Georget sprang from theBrest Diligence, and ran. Gardes Francaises also will be here, with realartillery: were not the walls so thick!--Upwards from the Esplanade, horizontally from all neighbouring roofs and windows, flashes oneirregular deluge of musketry, --without effect. The Invalides lie flat, firing comparatively at their ease from behind stone; hardly throughportholes, shew the tip of a nose. We fall, shot; and make noimpression! Let conflagration rage; of whatsoever is combustible! Guard-rooms areburnt, Invalides mess-rooms. A distracted 'Peruke-maker with two fierytorches' is for burning 'the saltpetres of the Arsenal;'--had not awoman run screaming; had not a Patriot, with some tincture of NaturalPhilosophy, instantly struck the wind out of him (butt of musket on pitof stomach), overturned barrels, and stayed the devouring element. Ayoung beautiful lady, seized escaping in these Outer Courts, and thoughtfalsely to be de Launay's daughter, shall be burnt in de Launay's sight;she lies swooned on a paillasse: but again a Patriot, it is brave AubinBonnemere the old soldier, dashes in, and rescues her. Straw is burnt;three cartloads of it, hauled thither, go up in white smoke: almost tothe choking of Patriotism itself; so that Elie had, with singed brows, to drag back one cart; and Reole the 'gigantic haberdasher' another. Smoke as of Tophet; confusion as of Babel; noise as of the Crack ofDoom! Blood flows, the aliment of new madness. The wounded are carried intohouses of the Rue Cerisaie; the dying leave their last mandate not toyield till the accursed Stronghold fall. And yet, alas, how fall?The walls are so thick! Deputations, three in number, arrive from theHotel-de-Ville; Abbe Fouchet (who was of one) can say, with what almostsuperhuman courage of benevolence. (Fauchet's Narrative (Deux Amis, i. 324. ). ) These wave their Town-flag in the arched Gateway; and stand, rolling their drum; but to no purpose. In such Crack of Doom, de Launaycannot hear them, dare not believe them: they return, with justifiedrage, the whew of lead still singing in their ears. What to do? TheFiremen are here, squirting with their fire-pumps on the Invalides'cannon, to wet the touchholes; they unfortunately cannot squirt so high;but produce only clouds of spray. Individuals of classical knowledgepropose catapults. Santerre, the sonorous Brewer of the SuburbSaint-Antoine, advises rather that the place be fired, by a 'mixture ofphosphorous and oil-of-turpentine spouted up through forcing pumps:'O Spinola-Santerre, hast thou the mixture ready? Every man his ownengineer! And still the fire-deluge abates not; even women are firing, and Turks; at least one woman (with her sweetheart), and one Turk. (DeuxAmis (i. 319); Dusaulx, &c. ) Gardes Francaises have come: real cannon, real cannoneers. Usher Maillard is busy; half-pay Elie, half-pay Hulinrage in the midst of thousands. How the great Bastille Clock ticks (inaudible) in its Inner Court there, at its ease, hour after hour; as if nothing special, for it or theworld, were passing! It tolled One when the firing began; and is nowpointing towards Five, and still the firing slakes not. --Far down, intheir vaults, the seven Prisoners hear muffled din as of earthquakes;their Turnkeys answer vaguely. Wo to thee, de Launay, with thy poor hundred Invalides! Broglie isdistant, and his ears heavy: Besenval hears, but can send no help. Onepoor troop of Hussars has crept, reconnoitring, cautiously along theQuais, as far as the Pont Neuf. "We are come to join you, " saidthe Captain; for the crowd seems shoreless. A large-headed dwarfishindividual, of smoke-bleared aspect, shambles forward, opening his bluelips, for there is sense in him; and croaks: "Alight then, and giveup your arms!" the Hussar-Captain is too happy to be escorted to theBarriers, and dismissed on parole. Who the squat individual was? Menanswer, it is M. Marat, author of the excellent pacific Avis au Peuple!Great truly, O thou remarkable Dogleech, is this thy day of emergenceand new birth: and yet this same day come four years--!--But let thecurtains of the future hang. What shall de Launay do? One thing only de Launay could have done: whathe said he would do. Fancy him sitting, from the first, with lightedtaper, within arm's length of the Powder-Magazine; motionless, like oldRoman Senator, or bronze Lamp-holder; coldly apprising Thuriot, and allmen, by a slight motion of his eye, what his resolution was:--Harmlesshe sat there, while unharmed; but the King's Fortress, meanwhile, could, might, would, or should, in nowise, be surrendered, save to the King'sMessenger: one old man's life worthless, so it be lost with honour;but think, ye brawling canaille, how will it be when a whole Bastillesprings skyward!--In such statuesque, taper-holding attitude, onefancies de Launay might have left Thuriot, the red Clerks of theBazoche, Cure of Saint-Stephen and all the tagrag-and-bobtail of theworld, to work their will. And yet, withal, he could not do it. Hast thou considered how each man'sheart is so tremulously responsive to the hearts of all men; hast thounoted how omnipotent is the very sound of many men? How their shriekof indignation palsies the strong soul; their howl of contumely witherswith unfelt pangs? The Ritter Gluck confessed that the ground-tone ofthe noblest passage, in one of his noblest Operas, was the voice of thePopulace he had heard at Vienna, crying to their Kaiser: Bread! Bread!Great is the combined voice of men; the utterance of their instincts, which are truer than their thoughts: it is the greatest a manencounters, among the sounds and shadows, which make up this World ofTime. He who can resist that, has his footing some where beyond Time. DeLaunay could not do it. Distracted, he hovers between the two; hopesin the middle of despair; surrenders not his Fortress; declares thathe will blow it up, seizes torches to blow it up, and does not blow it. Unhappy old de Launay, it is the death-agony of thy Bastille and thee!Jail, Jailoring and Jailor, all three, such as they may have been, mustfinish. For four hours now has the World-Bedlam roared: call it theWorld-Chimaera, blowing fire! The poor Invalides have sunk under theirbattlements, or rise only with reversed muskets: they have made a whiteflag of napkins; go beating the chamade, or seeming to beat, for onecan hear nothing. The very Swiss at the Portcullis look weary of firing;disheartened in the fire-deluge: a porthole at the drawbridge is opened, as by one that would speak. See Huissier Maillard, the shifty man! Onhis plank, swinging over the abyss of that stone-Ditch; plank restingon parapet, balanced by weight of Patriots, --he hovers perilous: sucha Dove towards such an Ark! Deftly, thou shifty Usher: one man alreadyfell; and lies smashed, far down there, against the masonry! UsherMaillard falls not: deftly, unerring he walks, with outspread palm. TheSwiss holds a paper through his porthole; the shifty Usher snatchesit, and returns. Terms of surrender: Pardon, immunity to all! Are theyaccepted?--"Foi d'officier, On the word of an officer, " answers half-payHulin, --or half-pay Elie, for men do not agree on it, "they are!" Sinksthe drawbridge, --Usher Maillard bolting it when down; rushes-in theliving deluge: the Bastille is fallen! Victoire! La Bastille est prise!(Histoire de la Revolution, par Deux Amis de la Liberte, i. 267-306;Besenval, iii. 410-434; Dusaulx, Prise de la Bastille, 291-301. Bailly, Memoires (Collection de Berville et Barriere), i. 322 et seqq. ) Chapter 1. 5. VII. Not a Revolt. Why dwell on what follows? Hulin's foi d'officer should have been kept, but could not. The Swiss stand drawn up; disguised in white canvassmocks; the Invalides without disguise; their arms all piled againstthe wall. The first rush of victors, in ecstacy that the death-peril ispassed, 'leaps joyfully on their necks;' but new victors rush, and evernew, also in ecstacy not wholly of joy. As we said, it was a livingdeluge, plunging headlong; had not the Gardes Francaises, in their coolmilitary way, 'wheeled round with arms levelled, ' it would have plungedsuicidally, by the hundred or the thousand, into the Bastille-ditch. And so it goes plunging through court and corridor; billowinguncontrollable, firing from windows--on itself: in hot frenzy oftriumph, of grief and vengeance for its slain. The poor Invalides willfare ill; one Swiss, running off in his white smock, is driven back, with a death-thrust. Let all prisoners be marched to the Townhall, to bejudged!--Alas, already one poor Invalide has his right hand slashed offhim; his maimed body dragged to the Place de Greve, and hanged there. This same right hand, it is said, turned back de Launay from thePowder-Magazine, and saved Paris. De Launay, 'discovered in gray frock with poppy-coloured riband, ' isfor killing himself with the sword of his cane. He shall to theHotel-de-Ville; Hulin Maillard and others escorting him; Elie marchingforemost 'with the capitulation-paper on his sword's point. ' Throughroarings and cursings; through hustlings, clutchings, and at lastthrough strokes! Your escort is hustled aside, felled down; Hulin sinksexhausted on a heap of stones. Miserable de Launay! He shall never enterthe Hotel de Ville: only his 'bloody hair-queue, held up in a bloodyhand;' that shall enter, for a sign. The bleeding trunk lies on thesteps there; the head is off through the streets; ghastly, aloft on apike. Rigorous de Launay has died; crying out, "O friends, kill me fast!"Merciful de Losme must die; though Gratitude embraces him, in thisfearful hour, and will die for him; it avails not. Brothers, your wrathis cruel! Your Place de Greve is become a Throat of the Tiger; fullof mere fierce bellowings, and thirst of blood. One other officeris massacred; one other Invalide is hanged on the Lamp-iron: withdifficulty, with generous perseverance, the Gardes Francaises will savethe rest. Provost Flesselles stricken long since with the palenessof death, must descend from his seat, 'to be judged at the PalaisRoyal:'--alas, to be shot dead, by an unknown hand, at the turning ofthe first street!-- O evening sun of July, how, at this hour, thy beams fall slant onreapers amid peaceful woody fields; on old women spinning in cottages;on ships far out in the silent main; on Balls at the Orangerie ofVersailles, where high-rouged Dames of the Palace are even now dancingwith double-jacketted Hussar-Officers;--and also on this roaring Hellporch of a Hotel-de-Ville! Babel Tower, with the confusion of tongues, were not Bedlam added with the conflagration of thoughts, was no typeof it. One forest of distracted steel bristles, endless, in front of anElectoral Committee; points itself, in horrid radii, against this andthe other accused breast. It was the Titans warring with Olympus;and they scarcely crediting it, have conquered: prodigy of prodigies;delirious, --as it could not but be. Denunciation, vengeance; blazeof triumph on a dark ground of terror: all outward, all inward thingsfallen into one general wreck of madness! Electoral Committee? Had it a thousand throats of brass, it would notsuffice. Abbe Lefevre, in the Vaults down below, is black as Vulcan, distributing that 'five thousand weight of Powder;' with what perils, these eight-and-forty hours! Last night, a Patriot, in liquor, insistedon sitting to smoke on the edge of one of the Powder-barrels; theresmoked he, independent of the world, --till the Abbe 'purchased his pipefor three francs, ' and pitched it far. Elie, in the grand Hall, Electoral Committee looking on, sits 'withdrawn sword bent in three places;' with battered helm, for he was ofthe Queen's Regiment, Cavalry; with torn regimentals, face singed andsoiled; comparable, some think, to 'an antique warrior;'--judging thepeople; forming a list of Bastille Heroes. O Friends, stain not withblood the greenest laurels ever gained in this world: such is the burdenof Elie's song; could it but be listened to. Courage, Elie! Courage, ye Municipal Electors! A declining sun; the need of victuals, and oftelling news, will bring assuagement, dispersion: all earthly thingsmust end. Along the streets of Paris circulate Seven Bastille Prisoners, borneshoulder-high: seven Heads on pikes; the Keys of the Bastille; and muchelse. See also the Garde Francaises, in their steadfast military way, marching home to their barracks, with the Invalides and Swiss kindlyenclosed in hollow square. It is one year and two months since thesesame men stood unparticipating, with Brennus d'Agoust at the Palaisde Justice, when Fate overtook d'Espremenil; and now they haveparticipated; and will participate. Not Gardes Francaises henceforth, but Centre Grenadiers of the National Guard: men of iron discipline andhumour, --not without a kind of thought in them! Likewise ashlar stones of the Bastille continue thundering through thedusk; its paper-archives shall fly white. Old secrets come to view; andlong-buried Despair finds voice. Read this portion of an old Letter:(Dated, a la Bastille, 7 Octobre, 1752; signed Queret-Demery. BastilleDevoilee, in Linguet, Memoires sur la Bastille (Paris, 1821), p. 199. )'If for my consolation Monseigneur would grant me for the sake of Godand the Most Blessed Trinity, that I could have news of my dear wife;were it only her name on card to shew that she is alive! It were thegreatest consolation I could receive; and I should for ever bless thegreatness of Monseigneur. ' Poor Prisoner, who namest thyself QueretDemery, and hast no other history, --she is dead, that dear wife ofthine, and thou art dead! 'Tis fifty years since thy breaking heart putthis question; to be heard now first, and long heard, in the hearts ofmen. But so does the July twilight thicken; so must Paris, as sick children, and all distracted creatures do, brawl itself finally into a kindof sleep. Municipal Electors, astonished to find their heads stilluppermost, are home: only Moreau de Saint-Mery of tropical birth andheart, of coolest judgment; he, with two others, shall sit permanent atthe Townhall. Paris sleeps; gleams upward the illuminated City: patrolsgo clashing, without common watchword; there go rumours; alarms ofwar, to the extent of 'fifteen thousand men marching through theSuburb Saint-Antoine, '--who never got it marched through. Of the day'sdistraction judge by this of the night: Moreau de Saint-Mery, 'beforerising from his seat, gave upwards of three thousand orders. ' (Dusaulx. )What a head; comparable to Friar Bacon's Brass Head! Within it lies allParis. Prompt must the answer be, right or wrong; in Paris is no otherAuthority extant. Seriously, a most cool clear head;--for which alsothou O brave Saint-Mery, in many capacities, from august Senator toMerchant's-Clerk, Book-dealer, Vice-King; in many places, from Virginiato Sardinia, shalt, ever as a brave man, find employment. (BiographieUniverselle, para Moreau Saint-Mery (by Fournier-Pescay). ) Besenval has decamped, under cloud of dusk, 'amid a great affluence ofpeople, ' who did not harm him; he marches, with faint-growing tread, down the left bank of the Seine, all night, --towards infinite space. Resummoned shall Besenval himself be; for trial, for difficultacquittal. His King's-troops, his Royal Allemand, are gone hence forever. The Versailles Ball and lemonade is done; the Orangery is silent exceptfor nightbirds. Over in the Salle des Menus, Vice-president Lafayette, with unsnuffed lights, 'with some hundred of members, stretched ontables round him, ' sits erect; outwatching the Bear. This day, a secondsolemn Deputation went to his Majesty; a second, and then a third: withno effect. What will the end of these things be? In the Court, all is mystery, not without whisperings of terror; thoughye dream of lemonade and epaulettes, ye foolish women! His Majesty, keptin happy ignorance, perhaps dreams of double-barrels and the Woods ofMeudon. Late at night, the Duke de Liancourt, having official right ofentrance, gains access to the Royal Apartments; unfolds, with earnestclearness, in his constitutional way, the Job's-news. "Mais, " said poorLouis, "c'est une revolte, Why, that is a revolt!"--"Sire, " answeredLiancourt, "It is not a revolt, it is a revolution. " Chapter 1. 5. VIII. Conquering your King. On the morrow a fourth Deputation to the Chateau is on foot: of amore solemn, not to say awful character, for, besides 'orgies in theOrangery, ' it seems, 'the grain convoys are all stopped;' nor hasMirabeau's thunder been silent. Such Deputation is on the point ofsetting out--when lo, his Majesty himself attended only by his twoBrothers, step in; quite in the paternal manner; announces that thetroops, and all causes of offence, are gone, and henceforth there shallbe nothing but trust, reconcilement, good-will; whereof he 'permitsand even requests, ' a National Assembly to assure Paris in his name!Acclamation, as of men suddenly delivered from death, gives answer. The whole Assembly spontaneously rises to escort his Majesty back;'interlacing their arms to keep off the excessive pressure from him;'for all Versailles is crowding and shouting. The Chateau Musicians, witha felicitous promptitude, strike up the Sein de sa Famille (Bosom ofone's Family): the Queen appears at the balcony with her little boyand girl, 'kissing them several times;' infinite Vivats spread far andwide;--and suddenly there has come, as it were, a new Heaven-on-Earth. Eighty-eight august Senators, Bailly, Lafayette, and our repentantArchbishop among them, take coach for Paris, with the greatintelligence; benedictions without end on their heads. From the PlaceLouis Quinze, where they alight, all the way to the Hotel-de-Ville, itis one sea of Tricolor cockades, of clear National muskets; onetempest of huzzaings, hand-clappings, aided by 'occasional rollings' ofdrum-music. Harangues of due fervour are delivered; especially by LallyTollendal, pious son of the ill-fated murdered Lally; on whose head, in consequence, a civic crown (of oak or parsley) is forced, --which heforcibly transfers to Bailly's. But surely, for one thing, the National Guard must have a General!Moreau de Saint-Mery, he of the 'three thousand orders, ' casts one ofhis significant glances on the Bust of Lafayette, which has stood thereever since the American War of Liberty. Whereupon, by acclamation, Lafayette is nominated. Again, in room of the slain traitor orquasi-traitor Flesselles, President Bailly shall be--Provost of theMerchants? No: Mayor of Paris! So be it. Maire de Paris! MayorBailly, General Lafayette; vive Bailly, vive Lafayette--the universalout-of-doors multitude rends the welkin in confirmation. --And now, finally, let us to Notre-Dame for a Te Deum. Towards Notre-Dame Cathedral, in glad procession, these Regenerators ofthe Country walk, through a jubilant people; in fraternal manner; AbbeLefevre, still black with his gunpowder services, walking arm in armwith the white-stoled Archbishop. Poor Bailly comes upon the FoundlingChildren, sent to kneel to him; and 'weeps. ' Te Deum, our Archbishopofficiating, is not only sung, but shot--with blank cartridges. Ourjoy is boundless as our wo threatened to be. Paris, by her own pikeand musket, and the valour of her own heart, has conquered the verywargods, --to the satisfaction now of Majesty itself. A courier is, thisnight, getting under way for Necker: the People's Minister, invited backby King, by National Assembly, and Nation, shall traverse France amidshoutings, and the sound of trumpet and timbrel. Seeing which course of things, Messeigneurs of the Court Triumvirate, Messieurs of the dead-born Broglie-Ministry, and others such, considerthat their part also is clear: to mount and ride. Off, ye too-loyalBroglies, Polignacs, and Princes of the Blood; off while it is yet time!Did not the Palais-Royal in its late nocturnal 'violent motions, ' seta specific price (place of payment not mentioned) on each of yourheads?--With precautions, with the aid of pieces of cannon and regimentsthat can be depended on, Messeigneurs, between the 16th night and the17th morning, get to their several roads. Not without risk! Prince Condehas (or seems to have) 'men galloping at full speed;' with a view, itis thought, to fling him into the river Oise, at Pont-Sainte-Mayence. (Weber, ii. 126. ) The Polignacs travel disguised; friends, not servants, on their coach-box. Broglie has his own difficulties at Versailles, runs his own risks at Metz and Verdun; does nevertheless get safe toLuxemburg, and there rests. This is what they call the First Emigration; determined on, as appears, in full Court-conclave; his Majesty assisting; prompt he, for his shareof it, to follow any counsel whatsoever. 'Three Sons of France, andfour Princes of the blood of Saint Louis, ' says Weber, 'could not moreeffectually humble the Burghers of Paris 'than by appearing to withdrawin fear of their life. ' Alas, the Burghers of Paris bear it withunexpected Stoicism! The Man d'Artois indeed is gone; but has hecarried, for example, the Land D'Artois with him? Not even Bagatelle theCountry-house (which shall be useful as a Tavern); hardly the four-valetBreeches, leaving the Breeches-maker!--As for old Foulon, one learnsthat he is dead; at least a 'sumptuous funeral' is going on; theundertakers honouring him, if no other will. Intendant Berthier, hisson-in-law, is still living; lurking: he joined Besenval, on thatEumenides' Sunday; appearing to treat it with levity; and is now fled noman knows whither. The Emigration is not gone many miles, Prince Conde hardly across theOise, when his Majesty, according to arrangement, for the Emigrationalso thought it might do good, --undertakes a rather daring enterprise:that of visiting Paris in person. With a Hundred Members of Assembly;with small or no military escort, which indeed he dismissed at theBridge of Sevres, poor Louis sets out; leaving a desolate Palace; aQueen weeping, the Present, the Past, and the Future all so unfriendlyfor her. At the Barrier of Passy, Mayor Bailly, in grand gala, presents him withthe keys; harangues him, in Academic style; mentions that it is a greatday; that in Henri Quatre's case, the King had to make conquest of hisPeople, but in this happier case, the People makes conquest of its King(a conquis son Roi). The King, so happily conquered, drives forward, slowly, through a steel people, all silent, or shouting only Vive laNation; is harangued at the Townhall, by Moreau of the three-thousandorders, by King's Procureur M. Ethys de Corny, by Lally Tollendal, andothers; knows not what to think of it, or say of it; learns that he is'Restorer of French Liberty, '--as a Statue of him, to be raised on thesite of the Bastille, shall testify to all men. Finally, he is shewn atthe Balcony, with a Tricolor cockade in his hat; is greeted now, withvehement acclamation, from Square and Street, from all windows androofs:--and so drives home again amid glad mingled and, as it were, intermarried shouts, of Vive le Roi and Vive la Nation; wearied butsafe. It was Sunday when the red-hot balls hung over us, in mid air: it isnow but Friday, and 'the Revolution is sanctioned. ' An August NationalAssembly shall make the Constitution; and neither foreign Pandour, domestic Triumvirate, with levelled Cannon, Guy-Faux powder-plots (forthat too was spoken of); nor any tyrannic Power on the Earth, or underthe Earth, shall say to it, What dost thou?--So jubilates the people;sure now of a Constitution. Cracked Marquis Saint-Huruge is heardunder the windows of the Chateau; murmuring sheer speculative-treason. (Campan, ii. 46-64. ) Chapter 1. 5. IX. The Lanterne. The Fall of the Bastille may be said to have shaken all France to thedeepest foundations of its existence. The rumour of these wonders fliesevery where: with the natural speed of Rumour; with an effect thoughtto be preternatural, produced by plots. Did d'Orleans or Laclos, nay didMirabeau (not overburdened with money at this time) send riding Couriersout from Paris; to gallop 'on all radii, ' or highways, towards allpoints of France? It is a miracle, which no penetrating man will call inquestion. (Toulongeon, (i. 95); Weber, &c. &c. ) Already in most Towns, Electoral Committees were met; to regret Necker, in harangue and resolution. In many a Town, as Rennes, Caen, Lyons, anebullient people was already regretting him in brickbats and musketry. But now, at every Town's-end in France, there do arrive, in these daysof terror, --'men, ' as men will arrive; nay, 'men on horseback, 'since Rumour oftenest travels riding. These men declare, with alarmedcountenance, The BRIGANDS to be coming, to be just at hand; and dothen--ride on, about their further business, be what it might! Whereuponthe whole population of such Town, defensively flies to arms. Petitionis soon thereafter forwarded to National Assembly; in such peril andterror of peril, leave to organise yourself cannot be withheld: thearmed population becomes everywhere an enrolled National Guard. Thusrides Rumour, careering along all radii, from Paris outwards, to suchpurpose: in few days, some say in not many hours, all France tothe utmost borders bristles with bayonets. Singular, butundeniable, --miraculous or not!--But thus may any chemical liquid;though cooled to the freezing-point, or far lower, still continueliquid; and then, on the slightest stroke or shake, it at once rusheswholly into ice. Thus has France, for long months and even years, beenchemically dealt with; brought below zero; and now, shaken by the Fallof a Bastille, it instantaneously congeals: into one crystallised mass, of sharp-cutting steel! Guai a chi la tocca; 'Ware who touches it! In Paris, an Electoral Committee, with a new Mayor and General, isurgent with belligerent workmen to resume their handicrafts. StrongDames of the Market (Dames de la Halle) deliver congratulatoryharangues; present 'bouquets to the Shrine of Sainte Genevieve. 'Unenrolled men deposit their arms, --not so readily as could be wished;and receive 'nine francs. ' With Te Deums, Royal Visits, and sanctionedRevolution, there is halcyon weather; weather even of preternaturalbrightness; the hurricane being overblown. Nevertheless, as is natural, the waves still run high, hollow rocksretaining their murmur. We are but at the 22nd of the month, hardlyabove a week since the Bastille fell, when it suddenly appears that oldFoulon is alive; nay, that he is here, in early morning, in the streetsof Paris; the extortioner, the plotter, who would make the people eatgrass, and was a liar from the beginning!--It is even so. The deceptive'sumptuous funeral' (of some domestic that died); the hiding-place atVitry towards Fontainbleau, have not availed that wretched old man. Someliving domestic or dependant, for none loves Foulon, has betrayed him tothe Village. Merciless boors of Vitry unearth him; pounce on him, like hell-hounds: Westward, old Infamy; to Paris, to be judged at theHotel-de-Ville! His old head, which seventy-four years have bleached, is bare; they have tied an emblematic bundle of grass on his back; agarland of nettles and thistles is round his neck: in this manner; ledwith ropes; goaded on with curses and menaces, must he, with his oldlimbs, sprawl forward; the pitiablest, most unpitied of all old men. Sooty Saint-Antoine, and every street, mustering its crowds as hepasses, --the Place de Greve, the Hall of the Hotel-de-Ville willscarcely hold his escort and him. Foulon must not only be judgedrighteously; but judged there where he stands, without any delay. Appoint seven judges, ye Municipals, or seventy-and-seven; namethem yourselves, or we will name them: but judge him! (HistoireParlementaire, ii. 146-9. ) Electoral rhetoric, eloquence of MayorBailly, is wasted explaining the beauty of the Law's delay. Delay, andstill delay! Behold, O Mayor of the People, the morning has worn itselfinto noon; and he is still unjudged!--Lafayette, pressingly sent for, arrives; gives voice: This Foulon, a known man, is guilty almost beyonddoubt; but may he not have accomplices? Ought not the truth to becunningly pumped out of him, --in the Abbaye Prison? It is a new light!Sansculottism claps hands;--at which hand-clapping, Foulon (inhis fainness, as his Destiny would have it) also claps. "See! theyunderstand one another!" cries dark Sansculottism, blazing into furyof suspicion. --"Friends, " said 'a person in good clothes, ' steppingforward, "what is the use of judging this man? Has he not been judgedthese thirty years?" With wild yells, Sansculottism clutches him, inits hundred hands: he is whirled across the Place de Greve, to the'Lanterne, ' Lamp-iron which there is at the corner of the Rue de laVannerie; pleading bitterly for life, --to the deaf winds. Only with thethird rope (for two ropes broke, and the quavering voice still pleaded), can he be so much as got hanged! His Body is dragged through thestreets; his Head goes aloft on a pike, the mouth filled with grass:amid sounds as of Tophet, from a grass-eating people. (Deux Amis de laLiberte, ii. 60-6. ) Surely if Revenge is a 'kind of Justice, ' it is a 'wild' kind! O madSansculottism hast thou risen, in thy mad darkness, in thy soot andrags; unexpectedly, like an Enceladus, living-buried, from under hisTrinacria? They that would make grass be eaten do now eat grass, inthis manner? After long dumb-groaning generations, has the turn suddenlybecome thine?--To such abysmal overturns, and frightful instantaneousinversions of the centre-of-gravity, are human Solecisms all liable, if they but knew it; the more liable, the falser (and topheavier) theyare!-- To add to the horror of Mayor Bailly and his Municipals, word comesthat Berthier has also been arrested; that he is on his way hither fromCompiegne. Berthier, Intendant (say, Tax-levier) of Paris; sycophantand tyrant; forestaller of Corn; contriver of Camps against thepeople;--accused of many things: is he not Foulon's son-in-law; and, inthat one point, guilty of all? In these hours too, when Sansculottismhas its blood up! The shuddering Municipals send one of their number toescort him, with mounted National Guards. At the fall of day, the wretched Berthier, still wearing a face ofcourage, arrives at the Barrier; in an open carriage; with the Municipalbeside him; five hundred horsemen with drawn sabres; unarmed footmenenough, not without noise! Placards go brandished round him; bearinglegibly his indictment, as Sansculottism, with unlegal brevity, 'in hugeletters, ' draws it up. ('Il a vole le Roi et la France (He robbed theKing and France). ' 'He devoured the substance of the People. ' 'He wasthe slave of the rich, and the tyrant of the poor. ' 'He drank the bloodof the widow and orphan. ' 'He betrayed his country. ' See Deux Amis, ii. 67-73. ) Paris is come forth to meet him: with hand-clappings, withwindows flung up; with dances, triumph-songs, as of the Furies! Lastlythe Head of Foulon: this also meets him on a pike. Well might his 'lookbecome glazed, ' and sense fail him, at such sight!--Nevertheless, bethe man's conscience what it may, his nerves are of iron. At theHotel-de-Ville, he will answer nothing. He says, he obeyed superiororder; they have his papers; they may judge and determine: as forhimself, not having closed an eye these two nights, he demands, beforeall things, to have sleep. Leaden sleep, thou miserable Berthier! Guardsrise with him, in motion towards the Abbaye. At the very door of theHotel-de-Ville, they are clutched; flung asunder, as by a vortex of madarms; Berthier whirls towards the Lanterne. He snatches a musket; fellsand strikes, defending himself like a mad lion; is borne down, trampled, hanged, mangled: his Head too, and even his Heart, flies over the Cityon a pike. Horrible, in Lands that had known equal justice! Not so unnatural inLands that had never known it. Le sang qui coule est-il donc si pure?asks Barnave; intimating that the Gallows, though by irregular methods, has its own. --Thou thyself, O Reader, when thou turnest that corner ofthe Rue de la Vannerie, and discernest still that same grim Bracketof old Iron, wilt not want for reflections. 'Over a grocer's shop, ' orotherwise; with 'a bust of Louis XIV. In the niche under it, ' or nowno longer in the niche, --it still sticks there: still holding out anineffectual light, of fish-oil; and has seen worlds wrecked, and saysnothing. But to the eye of enlightened Patriotism, what a thunder-cloud was this;suddenly shaping itself in the radiance of the halcyon weather! Cloudof Erebus blackness: betokening latent electricity without limit. MayorBailly, General Lafayette throw up their commissions, in an indignantmanner;--need to be flattered back again. The cloud disappears, asthunder-clouds do. The halcyon weather returns, though of a grayercomplexion; of a character more and more evidently not supernatural. Thus, in any case, with what rubs soever, shall the Bastille beabolished from our Earth; and with it, Feudalism, Despotism; and, onehopes, Scoundrelism generally, and all hard usage of man by his brotherman. Alas, the Scoundrelism and hard usage are not so easy of abolition!But as for the Bastille, it sinks day after day, and month after month;its ashlars and boulders tumbling down continually, by express order ofour Municipals. Crowds of the curious roam through its caverns; gaze onthe skeletons found walled up, on the oubliettes, iron cages, monstrousstone-blocks with padlock chains. One day we discern Mirabeau there;along with the Genevese Dumont. (Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 305. ) Workers and onlookers make reverent way for him; fling verses, flowers on his path, Bastille-papers and curiosities into his carriage, with vivats. Able Editors compile Books from the Bastille Archives; from what of themremain unburnt. The Key of that Robber-Den shall cross the Atlantic;shall lie on Washington's hall-table. The great Clock ticks now in aprivate patriotic Clockmaker's apartment; no longer measuring hours ofmere heaviness. Vanished is the Bastille, what we call vanished:the body, or sandstones, of it hanging, in benign metamorphosis, forcenturies to come, over the Seine waters, as Pont Louis Seize; (Dulaure:Histoire de Paris, viii. 434. ) the soul of it living, perhaps stilllonger, in the memories of men. So far, ye august Senators, with your Tennis-Court Oaths, your inertiaand impetus, your sagacity and pertinacity, have ye brought us. "Andyet think, Messieurs, " as the Petitioner justly urged, "you who were oursaviours, did yourselves need saviours, "--the brave Bastillers, namely;workmen of Paris; many of them in straightened pecuniary circumstances!(Moniteur: Seance du Samedi 18 Juillet 1789 in Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 137. ) Subscriptions are opened; Lists are formed, more accurate thanElie's; harangues are delivered. A Body of Bastille Heroes, tolerablycomplete, did get together;--comparable to the Argonauts; hoping toendure like them. But in little more than a year, the whirlpoolof things threw them asunder again, and they sank. So many highestsuperlatives achieved by man are followed by new higher; and dwindleinto comparatives and positives! The Siege of the Bastille, weighed withwhich, in the Historical balance, most other sieges, including thatof Troy Town, are gossamer, cost, as we find, in killed and mortallywounded, on the part of the Besiegers, some Eighty-three persons: on thepart of the Besieged, after all that straw-burning, fire-pumping, and deluge of musketry, One poor solitary invalid, shot stone-dead(roide-mort) on the battlements; (Dusaulx: Prise de la Bastille, p. 447, &c. ) The Bastille Fortress, like the City of Jericho, was overturned bymiraculous sound. BOOK VI. CONSOLIDATION Chapter 1. 6. I. Make the Constitution. Here perhaps is the place to fix, a little more precisely, what thesetwo words, French Revolution, shall mean; for, strictly considered, theymay have as many meanings as there are speakers of them. All things arein revolution; in change from moment to moment, which becomes sensiblefrom epoch to epoch: in this Time-World of ours there is properlynothing else but revolution and mutation, and even nothing elseconceivable. Revolution, you answer, means speedier change. Whereuponone has still to ask: How speedy? At what degree of speed; in whatparticular points of this variable course, which varies in velocity, butcan never stop till Time itself stops, does revolution begin and end;cease to be ordinary mutation, and again become such? It is a thing thatwill depend on definition more or less arbitrary. For ourselves we answer that French Revolution means here the openviolent Rebellion, and Victory, of disimprisoned Anarchy against corruptworn-out Authority: how Anarchy breaks prison; bursts up from theinfinite Deep, and rages uncontrollable, immeasurable, enveloping aworld; in phasis after phasis of fever-frenzy;--'till the frenzy burningitself out, and what elements of new Order it held (since all Forceholds such) developing themselves, the Uncontrollable be got, if notreimprisoned, yet harnessed, and its mad forces made to work towardstheir object as sane regulated ones. For as Hierarchies and Dynastiesof all kinds, Theocracies, Aristocracies, Autocracies, Strumpetocracies, have ruled over the world; so it was appointed, in the decreesof Providence, that this same Victorious Anarchy, Jacobinism, Sansculottism, French Revolution, Horrors of French Revolution, or whatelse mortals name it, should have its turn. The 'destructive wrath'of Sansculottism: this is what we speak, having unhappily no voice forsinging. Surely a great Phenomenon: nay it is a transcendental one, oversteppingall rules and experience; the crowning Phenomenon of our Modern Time. For here again, most unexpectedly, comes antique Fanaticism in new andnewest vesture; miraculous, as all Fanaticism is. Call it the Fanaticismof 'making away with formulas, de humer les formulas. ' The worldof formulas, the formed regulated world, which all habitable worldis, --must needs hate such Fanaticism like death; and be at deadlyvariance with it. The world of formulas must conquer it; or failingthat, must die execrating it, anathematising it;--can nevertheless innowise prevent its being and its having been. The Anathemas are there, and the miraculous Thing is there. Whence it cometh? Whither it goeth? These are questions! When the ageof Miracles lay faded into the distance as an incredible tradition, andeven the age of Conventionalities was now old; and Man's Existence hadfor long generations rested on mere formulas which were grown hollow bycourse of time; and it seemed as if no Reality any longer existed butonly Phantasms of realities, and God's Universe were the work of theTailor and Upholsterer mainly, and men were buckram masks that wentabout becking and grimacing there, --on a sudden, the Earth yawnsasunder, and amid Tartarean smoke, and glare of fierce brightness, risesSANSCULOTTISM, many-headed, fire-breathing, and asks: What think yeof me? Well may the buckram masks start together, terror-struck;'into expressive well-concerted groups!' It is indeed, Friends, a mostsingular, most fatal thing. Let whosoever is but buckram and a phantasmlook to it: ill verily may it fare with him; here methinks he cannotmuch longer be. Wo also to many a one who is not wholly buckram, butpartially real and human! The age of Miracles has come back! 'Beholdthe World-Phoenix, in fire-consummation and fire-creation; wide are herfanning wings; loud is her death-melody, of battle-thunders and fallingtowns; skyward lashes the funeral flame, enveloping all things: it isthe Death-Birth of a World!' Whereby, however, as we often say, shall one unspeakable blessingseem attainable. This, namely: that Man and his Life rest no more onhollowness and a Lie, but on solidity and some kind of Truth. Welcome, the beggarliest truth, so it be one, in exchange for the royallest sham!Truth of any kind breeds ever new and better truth; thus hard graniterock will crumble down into soil, under the blessed skyey influences;and cover itself with verdure, with fruitage and umbrage. But as forFalsehood, which in like contrary manner, grows ever falser, --what canit, or what should it do but decease, being ripe; decompose itself, gently or even violently, and return to the Father of it, --too probablyin flames of fire? Sansculottism will burn much; but what is incombustible it willnot burn. Fear not Sansculottism; recognise it for what it is, theportentous, inevitable end of much, the miraculous beginning of much. One other thing thou mayest understand of it: that it too came fromGod; for has it not been? From of old, as it is written, are His goingsforth; in the great Deep of things; fearful and wonderful now as in thebeginning: in the whirlwind also He speaks! and the wrath of men is madeto praise Him. --But to gauge and measure this immeasurable Thing, andwhat is called account for it, and reduce it to a dead logic-formula, attempt not! Much less shalt thou shriek thyself hoarse, cursing it;for that, to all needful lengths, has been already done. As an actuallyexisting Son of Time, look, with unspeakable manifold interest, oftenestin silence, at what the Time did bring: therewith edify, instruct, nourish thyself, or were it but to amuse and gratify thyself, as it isgiven thee. Another question which at every new turn will rise on us, requiringever new reply is this: Where the French Revolution specially is? Inthe King's Palace, in his Majesty's or her Majesty's managements, andmaltreatments, cabals, imbecilities and woes, answer some few:--whom wedo not answer. In the National Assembly, answer a large mixed multitude:who accordingly seat themselves in the Reporter's Chair; and therefromnoting what Proclamations, Acts, Reports, passages of logic-fence, bursts of parliamentary eloquence seem notable within doors, and whattumults and rumours of tumult become audible from without, --producevolume on volume; and, naming it History of the French Revolution, contentedly publish the same. To do the like, to almost any extent, withso many Filed Newspapers, Choix des Rapports, Histoires Parlementairesas there are, amounting to many horseloads, were easy for us. Easy butunprofitable. The National Assembly, named now Constituent Assembly, goes its course; making the Constitution; but the French Revolution alsogoes its course. In general, may we not say that the French Revolution lies in the heartand head of every violent-speaking, of every violent-thinkingFrench Man? How the Twenty-five Millions of such, in their perplexedcombination, acting and counter-acting may give birth to events; whichevent successively is the cardinal one; and from what point of vision itmay best be surveyed: this is a problem. Which problem the best insight, seeking light from all possible sources, shifting its point of visionwhithersoever vision or glimpse of vision can be had, may employ itselfin solving; and be well content to solve in some tolerably approximateway. As to the National Assembly, in so far as it still towers eminent overFrance, after the manner of a car-borne Carroccio, though now no longerin the van; and rings signals for retreat or for advance, --it is andcontinues a reality among other realities. But in so far as it sitsmaking the Constitution, on the other hand, it is a fatuity and chimeramainly. Alas, in the never so heroic building of Montesquieu-Mablycard-castles, though shouted over by the world, what interest is there?Occupied in that way, an august National Assembly becomes for us littleother than a Sanhedrim of pedants, not of the gerund-grinding, yet of nofruitfuller sort; and its loud debatings and recriminations about Rightsof Man, Right of Peace and War, Veto suspensif, Veto absolu, what arethey but so many Pedant's-curses, 'May God confound you for your Theoryof Irregular Verbs!' A Constitution can be built, Constitutions enough a la Sieyes: but thefrightful difficulty is that of getting men to come and live in them!Could Sieyes have drawn thunder and lightning out of Heaven to sanctionhis Constitution, it had been well: but without any thunder? Nay, strictly considered, is it not still true that without some suchcelestial sanction, given visibly in thunder or invisibly otherwise, noConstitution can in the long run be worth much more than the waste-paperit is written on? The Constitution, the set of Laws, or prescribedHabits of Acting, that men will live under, is the one which imagestheir Convictions, --their Faith as to this wondrous Universe, and whatrights, duties, capabilities they have there; which stands sanctionedtherefore, by Necessity itself, if not by a seen Deity, then by anunseen one. Other laws, whereof there are always enough ready-made, areusurpations; which men do not obey, but rebel against, and abolish, bytheir earliest convenience. The question of questions accordingly were, Who is it that especiallyfor rebellers and abolishers, can make a Constitution? He that can imageforth the general Belief when there is one; that can impart one when, as here, there is none. A most rare man; ever as of old a god-missionedman! Here, however, in defect of such transcendent supreme man, Timewith its infinite succession of merely superior men, each yielding hislittle contribution, does much. Force likewise (for, as AntiquarianPhilosophers teach, the royal Sceptre was from the first something ofa Hammer, to crack such heads as could not be convinced) will all alongfind somewhat to do. And thus in perpetual abolition and reparation, rending and mending, with struggle and strife, with present evil and thehope and effort towards future good, must the Constitution, as all humanthings do, build itself forward; or unbuild itself, and sink, as itcan and may. O Sieyes, and ye other Committeemen, and Twelve Hundredmiscellaneous individuals from all parts of France! What is the Beliefof France, and yours, if ye knew it? Properly that there shall be noBelief; that all formulas be swallowed. The Constitution which will suitthat? Alas, too clearly, a No-Constitution, an Anarchy;--which also, indue season, shall be vouchsafed you. But, after all, what can an unfortunate National Assembly do? Consideronly this, that there are Twelve Hundred miscellaneous individuals;not a unit of whom but has his own thinking-apparatus, his ownspeaking-apparatus! In every unit of them is some belief and wish, different for each, both that France should be regenerated, and alsothat he individually should do it. Twelve Hundred separate Forces, yokedmiscellaneously to any object, miscellaneously to all sides of it; andbid pull for life! Or is it the nature of National Assemblies generally to do, with endlesslabour and clangour, Nothing? Are Representative Governments mostlyat bottom Tyrannies too! Shall we say, the Tyrants, the ambitiouscontentious Persons, from all corners of the country do, in this manner, get gathered into one place; and there, with motion and counter-motion, with jargon and hubbub, cancel one another, like the fabulous KilkennyCats; and produce, for net-result, zero;--the country meanwhilegoverning or guiding itself, by such wisdom, recognised or for most partunrecognised, as may exist in individual heads here and there?--Nay, even that were a great improvement: for, of old, with their GuelfFactions and Ghibelline Factions, with their Red Roses and White Roses, they were wont to cancel the whole country as well. Besides they do itnow in a much narrower cockpit; within the four walls of their AssemblyHouse, and here and there an outpost of Hustings and Barrel-heads; do itwith tongues too, not with swords:--all which improvements, in the artof producing zero, are they not great? Nay, best of all, some happyContinents (as the Western one, with its Savannahs, where whosoever hasfour willing limbs finds food under his feet, and an infinite sky overhis head) can do without governing. --What Sphinx-questions; which thedistracted world, in these very generations, must answer or die! Chapter 1. 6. II. The Constituent Assembly. One thing an elected Assembly of Twelve Hundred is fit for: Destroying. Which indeed is but a more decided exercise of its natural talent forDoing Nothing. Do nothing, only keep agitating, debating; and thingswill destroy themselves. So and not otherwise proved it with an august National Assembly. Ittook the name, Constituent, as if its mission and function had been toconstruct or build; which also, with its whole soul, it endeavouredto do: yet, in the fates, in the nature of things, there lay for itprecisely of all functions the most opposite to that. Singular, whatGospels men will believe; even Gospels according to Jean Jacques! Itwas the fixed Faith of these National Deputies, as of all thinkingFrenchmen, that the Constitution could be made; that they, there andthen, were called to make it. How, with the toughness of Old Hebrews orIshmaelite Moslem, did the otherwise light unbelieving People persist inthis their Credo quia impossibile; and front the armed world withit; and grow fanatic, and even heroic, and do exploits by it! TheConstituent Assembly's Constitution, and several others, will, beingprinted and not manuscript, survive to future generations, as aninstructive well-nigh incredible document of the Time: the mostsignificant Picture of the then existing France; or at lowest, Pictureof these men's Picture of it. But in truth and seriousness, what could the National Assembly havedone? The thing to be done was, actually as they said, to regenerateFrance; to abolish the old France, and make a new one; quietly orforcibly, by concession or by violence, this, by the Law of Nature, hasbecome inevitable. With what degree of violence, depends on the wisdomof those that preside over it. With perfect wisdom on the part of theNational Assembly, it had all been otherwise; but whether, in any wise, it could have been pacific, nay other than bloody and convulsive, maystill be a question. Grant, meanwhile, that this Constituent Assembly does to the lastcontinue to be something. With a sigh, it sees itself incessantlyforced away from its infinite divine task, of perfecting 'the Theory ofIrregular Verbs, '--to finite terrestrial tasks, which latter have stilla significance for us. It is the cynosure of revolutionary France, thisNational Assembly. All work of Government has fallen into its hands, or under its control; all men look to it for guidance. In the middleof that huge Revolt of Twenty-five millions, it hovers always aloftas Carroccio or Battle-Standard, impelling and impelled, in the mostconfused way; if it cannot give much guidance, it will still seem togive some. It emits pacificatory Proclamations, not a few; with more orwith less result. It authorises the enrolment of National Guards, --lestBrigands come to devour us, and reap the unripe crops. It sends missionsto quell 'effervescences;' to deliver men from the Lanterne. It canlisten to congratulatory Addresses, which arrive daily by the sackful;mostly in King Cambyses' vein: also to Petitions and complaints from allmortals; so that every mortal's complaint, if it cannot get redressed, may at least hear itself complain. For the rest, an august NationalAssembly can produce Parliamentary Eloquence; and appoint Committees. Committees of the Constitution, of Reports, of Researches; and of muchelse: which again yield mountains of Printed Paper; the theme of newParliamentary Eloquence, in bursts, or in plenteous smooth-flowingfloods. And so, from the waste vortex whereon all things go whirling andgrinding, Organic Laws, or the similitude of such, slowly emerge. With endless debating, we get the Rights of Man written down andpromulgated: true paper basis of all paper Constitutions. Neglecting, cry the opponents, to declare the Duties of Man! Forgetting, answer we, to ascertain the Mights of Man;--one of the fatalest omissions!--Nay, sometimes, as on the Fourth of August, our National Assembly, firedsuddenly by an almost preternatural enthusiasm, will get through wholemasses of work in one night. A memorable night, this Fourth ofAugust: Dignitaries temporal and spiritual; Peers, Archbishops, Parlement-Presidents, each outdoing the other in patriotic devotedness, come successively to throw their (untenable) possessions on the 'altarof the fatherland. ' With louder and louder vivats, for indeed it is'after dinner' too, --they abolish Tithes, Seignorial Dues, Gabelle, excessive Preservation of Game; nay Privilege, Immunity, Feudalism rootand branch; then appoint a Te Deum for it; and so, finally, disperseabout three in the morning, striking the stars with their sublime heads. Such night, unforeseen but for ever memorable, was this of the Fourthof August 1789. Miraculous, or semi-miraculous, some seem to think it. Anew Night of Pentecost, shall we say, shaped according to the new Time, and new Church of Jean Jacques Rousseau? It had its causes; also itseffects. In such manner labour the National Deputies; perfecting their Theory ofIrregular Verbs; governing France, and being governed by it; with toiland noise;--cutting asunder ancient intolerable bonds; and, for newones, assiduously spinning ropes of sand. Were their labours a nothingor a something, yet the eyes of all France being reverently fixed onthem, History can never very long leave them altogether out of sight. For the present, if we glance into that Assembly Hall of theirs, it willbe found, as is natural, 'most irregular. ' As many as 'a hundredmembers are on their feet at once;' no rule in making motions, or onlycommencements of a rule; Spectators' Gallery allowed to applaud, andeven to hiss; (Arthur Young, i. 111. ) President, appointed oncea fortnight, raising many times no serene head above the waves. Nevertheless, as in all human Assemblages, like does begin arrangingitself to like; the perennial rule, Ubi homines sunt modi sunt, provesvalid. Rudiments of Methods disclose themselves; rudiments of Parties. There is a Right Side (Cote Droit), a Left Side (Cote Gauche); sittingon M. Le President's right hand, or on his left: the Cote Droitconservative; the Cote Gauche destructive. Intermediate is AnglomaniacConstitutionalism, or Two-Chamber Royalism; with its Mouniers, itsLallys, --fast verging towards nonentity. Preeminent, on the Right Side, pleads and perorates Cazales, the Dragoon-captain, eloquent, mildlyfervent; earning for himself the shadow of a name. There alsoblusters Barrel-Mirabeau, the Younger Mirabeau, not without wit: duskyd'Espremenil does nothing but sniff and ejaculate; might, it is fondlythought, lay prostrate the Elder Mirabeau himself, would he but try, (Biographie Universelle, para D'Espremenil (by Beaulieu). )--which hedoes not. Last and greatest, see, for one moment, the Abbe Maury; withhis jesuitic eyes, his impassive brass face, 'image of all the cardinalsins. ' Indomitable, unquenchable, he fights jesuitico-rhetorically; withtoughest lungs and heart; for Throne, especially for Altar and Tithes. So that a shrill voice exclaims once, from the Gallery: "Messieurs ofthe Clergy, you have to be shaved; if you wriggle too much, you will getcut. " (Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans, ii. 519. ) The Left side is also called the d'Orleans side; and sometimesderisively, the Palais Royal. And yet, so confused, real-imaginaryseems everything, 'it is doubtful, ' as Mirabeau said, 'whether d'Orleanshimself belong to that same d'Orleans Party. ' What can be known and seenis, that his moon-visage does beam forth from that point of space. Therelikewise sits seagreen Robespierre; throwing in his light weight, withdecision, not yet with effect. A thin lean Puritan and Precisian; hewould make away with formulas; yet lives, moves, and has his being, wholly in formulas, of another sort. 'Peuple, ' such according toRobespierre ought to be the Royal method of promulgating laws, 'Peuple, this is the Law I have framed for thee; dost thou accept it?'--answeredfrom Right Side, from Centre and Left, by inextinguishable laughter. (Moniteur, No. 67 (in Hist. Parl. ). ) Yet men of insight discern that theSeagreen may by chance go far: "this man, " observes Mirabeau, "will dosomewhat; he believes every word he says. " Abbe Sieyes is busy with mere Constitutional work: wherein, unluckily, fellow-workmen are less pliable than, with one who has completed theScience of Polity, they ought to be. Courage, Sieyes nevertheless! Sometwenty months of heroic travail, of contradiction from the stupid, andthe Constitution shall be built; the top-stone of it brought out withshouting, --say rather, the top-paper, for it is all Paper; and thou hastdone in it what the Earth or the Heaven could require, thy utmost. Notelikewise this Trio; memorable for several things; memorable were it onlythat their history is written in an epigram: 'whatsoever these Threehave in hand, ' it is said, 'Duport thinks it, Barnave speaks it, Lamethdoes it. ' (See Toulongeon, i. C. 3. ) But royal Mirabeau? Conspicuous among all parties, raised above andbeyond them all, this man rises more and more. As we often say, he hasan eye, he is a reality; while others are formulas and eye-glasses. Inthe Transient he will detect the Perennial, find some firm footing evenamong Paper-vortexes. His fame is gone forth to all lands; it gladdenedthe heart of the crabbed old Friend of Men himself before he died. The very Postilions of inns have heard of Mirabeau: when an impatientTraveller complains that the team is insufficient, his Postilionanswers, "Yes, Monsieur, the wheelers are weak; but my mirabeau (mainhorse), you see, is a right one, mais mon mirabeau est excellent. "(Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 255. ) And now, Reader, thou shalt quit this noisy Discrepancy of a NationalAssembly; not (if thou be of humane mind) without pity. Twelve Hundredbrother men are there, in the centre of Twenty-five Millions; fightingso fiercely with Fate and with one another; struggling their livesout, as most sons of Adam do, for that which profiteth not. Nay, onthe whole, it is admitted further to be very dull. "Dull as this day'sAssembly, " said some one. "Why date, Pourquoi dater?" answered Mirabeau. Consider that they are Twelve Hundred; that they not only speak, butread their speeches; and even borrow and steal speeches to read! WithTwelve Hundred fluent speakers, and their Noah's Deluge of vociferouscommonplace, unattainable silence may well seem the one blessing ofLife. But figure Twelve Hundred pamphleteers; droning forth perpetualpamphlets: and no man to gag them! Neither, as in the American Congress, do the arrangements seem perfect. A Senator has not his own Deskand Newspaper here; of Tobacco (much less of Pipes) there is not theslightest provision. Conversation itself must be transacted in a lowtone, with continual interruption: only 'pencil Notes' circulate freely;'in incredible numbers to the foot of the very tribune. ' (See Dumont(pp. 159-67); Arthur Young, &c. )--Such work is it, regenerating aNation; perfecting one's Theory of Irregular Verbs! Chapter 1. 6. III. The General Overturn. Of the King's Court, for the present, there is almost nothing whateverto be said. Silent, deserted are these halls; Royalty languishesforsaken of its war-god and all its hopes, till once the Oeil-de-Boeufrally again. The sceptre is departed from King Louis; is gone over tothe Salles des Menus, to the Paris Townhall, or one knows not whither. In the July days, while all ears were yet deafened by the crash of theBastille, and Ministers and Princes were scattered to the four winds, itseemed as if the very Valets had grown heavy of hearing. Besenval, alsoin flight towards Infinite Space, but hovering a little at Versailles, was addressing his Majesty personally for an Order about post-horses;when, lo, 'the Valet in waiting places himself familiarly between hisMajesty and me, ' stretching out his rascal neck to learn what it was!His Majesty, in sudden choler, whirled round; made a clutch at thetongs: 'I gently prevented him; he grasped my hand in thankfulness; andI noticed tears in his eyes. ' (Besenval, iii. 419. ) Poor King; for French Kings also are men! Louis Fourteenth himselfonce clutched the tongs, and even smote with them; but then it was atLouvois, and Dame Maintenon ran up. --The Queen sits weeping in herinner apartments, surrounded by weak women: she is 'at the height ofunpopularity;' universally regarded as the evil genius of France. Herfriends and familiar counsellors have all fled; and fled, surely, on thefoolishest errand. The Chateau Polignac still frowns aloft, on its 'boldand enormous' cubical rock, amid the blooming champaigns, amid the bluegirdling mountains of Auvergne: (Arthur Young, i. 165. ) but no Dukeand Duchess Polignac look forth from it; they have fled, they have'met Necker at Bale;' they shall not return. That France should see herNobles resist the Irresistible, Inevitable, with the face of angry men, was unhappy, not unexpected: but with the face and sense of pettishchildren? This was her peculiarity. They understood nothing; wouldunderstand nothing. Does not, at this hour, a new Polignac, first-bornof these Two, sit reflective in the Castle of Ham; (A. D. 1835. ) in anastonishment he will never recover from; the most confused of existingmortals? King Louis has his new Ministry: mere Popularities; Old-PresidentPompignan; Necker, coming back in triumph; and other such. (Montgaillard, ii. 108. ) But what will it avail him? As was said, thesceptre, all but the wooden gilt sceptre, has departed elsewhither. Volition, determination is not in this man: only innocence, indolence;dependence on all persons but himself, on all circumstances but thecircumstances he were lord of. So troublous internally is our Versaillesand its work. Beautiful, if seen from afar, resplendent like a Sun; seennear at hand, a mere Sun's-Atmosphere, hiding darkness, confused fermentof ruin! But over France, there goes on the indisputablest 'destruction offormulas;' transaction of realities that follow therefrom. So manymillions of persons, all gyved, and nigh strangled, with formulas; whoseLife nevertheless, at least the digestion and hunger of it, was realenough! Heaven has at length sent an abundant harvest; but what profitsit the poor man, when Earth with her formulas interposes? Industry, inthese times of Insurrection, must needs lie dormant; capital, as usual, not circulating, but stagnating timorously in nooks. The poor man isshort of work, is therefore short of money; nay even had he money, breadis not to be bought for it. Were it plotting of Aristocrats, plottingof d'Orleans; were it Brigands, preternatural terror, and the clang ofPhoebus Apollo's silver bow, --enough, the markets are scarce of grain, plentiful only in tumult. Farmers seem lazy to thresh;--being either'bribed;' or needing no bribe, with prices ever rising, with perhapsrent itself no longer so pressing. Neither, what is singular, domunicipal enactments, 'That along with so many measures of wheat youshall sell so many of rye, ' and other the like, much mend the matter. Dragoons with drawn swords stand ranked among the corn-sacks, oftenmore dragoons than sacks. (Arthur Young, i. 129, &c. ) Meal-mobs abound;growing into mobs of a still darker quality. Starvation has been known among the French Commonalty before this; knownand familiar. Did we not see them, in the year 1775, presenting, in sallow faces, in wretchedness and raggedness, their Petition ofGrievances; and, for answer, getting a brand-new Gallows forty feethigh? Hunger and Darkness, through long years! For look back on thatearlier Paris Riot, when a Great Personage, worn out by debauchery, wasbelieved to be in want of Blood-baths; and Mothers, in worn raiment, yetwith living hearts under it, 'filled the public places' with their wildRachel-cries, --stilled also by the Gallows. Twenty years ago, theFriend of Men (preaching to the deaf) described the Limousin Peasants aswearing a pain-stricken (souffre-douleur) look, a look past complaint, 'as if the oppression of the great were like the hail and the thunder, athing irremediable, the ordinance of Nature. ' (Fils Adoptif: Memoiresde Mirabeau, i. 364-394. ) And now, if in some great hour, the shock ofa falling Bastille should awaken you; and it were found to be theordinance of Art merely; and remediable, reversible! Or has the Reader forgotten that 'flood of savages, ' which, in sightof the same Friend of Men, descended from the mountains at Mont d'Or?Lank-haired haggard faces; shapes rawboned, in high sabots; in woollenjupes, with leather girdles studded with copper-nails! They rocked fromfoot to foot, and beat time with their elbows too, as the quarrel andbattle which was not long in beginning went on; shouting fiercely; thelank faces distorted into the similitude of a cruel laugh. For they weredarkened and hardened: long had they been the prey of excise-men andtax-men; of 'clerks with the cold spurt of their pen. ' It was the fixedprophecy of our old Marquis, which no man would listen to, that 'suchGovernment by Blind-man's-buff, stumbling along too far, would end bythe General Overturn, the Culbute Generale!' No man would listen, each went his thoughtless way;--and Time andDestiny also travelled on. The Government by Blind-man's-buff, stumblingalong, has reached the precipice inevitable for it. Dull Drudgery, driven on, by clerks with the cold dastard spurt of their pen, has beendriven--into a Communion of Drudges! For now, moreover, there havecome the strangest confused tidings; by Paris Journals with their paperwings; or still more portentous, where no Journals are, (See ArthurYoung, i. 137, 150, &c. ) by rumour and conjecture: Oppression notinevitable; a Bastille prostrate, and the Constitution fast gettingready! Which Constitution, if it be something and not nothing, what canit be but bread to eat? The Traveller, 'walking up hill bridle in hand, ' overtakes 'a poorwoman;' the image, as such commonly are, of drudgery and scarcity;'looking sixty years of age, though she is not yet twenty-eight. ' Theyhave seven children, her poor drudge and she: a farm, with one cow, which helps to make the children soup; also one little horse, or garron. They have rents and quit-rents, Hens to pay to this Seigneur, Oat-sacksto that; King's taxes, Statute-labour, Church-taxes, taxes enough;--andthink the times inexpressible. She has heard that somewhere, in somemanner, something is to be done for the poor: "God send it soon; for thedues and taxes crush us down (nous ecrasent)!" (Ibid. I. 134. ) Fair prophecies are spoken, but they are not fulfilled. There havebeen Notables, Assemblages, turnings out and comings in. Intriguing andmanoeuvring; Parliamentary eloquence and arguing, Greek meeting Greek inhigh places, has long gone on; yet still bread comes not. The harvest isreaped and garnered; yet still we have no bread. Urged by despair andby hope, what can Drudgery do, but rise, as predicted, and produce theGeneral Overturn? Fancy, then, some Five full-grown Millions of such gaunt figures, with their haggard faces (figures haves); in woollen jupes, withcopper-studded leather girths, and high sabots, --starting up to ask, asin forest-roarings, their washed Upper-Classes, after long unreviewedcenturies, virtually this question: How have ye treated us; how have yetaught us, fed us, and led us, while we toiled for you? The answer canbe read in flames, over the nightly summer sky. This is the feeding andleading we have had of you: EMPTINESS, --of pocket, of stomach, of head, and of heart. Behold there is nothing in us; nothing but what Naturegives her wild children of the desert: Ferocity and Appetite; Strengthgrounded on Hunger. Did ye mark among your Rights of Man, that man wasnot to die of starvation, while there was bread reaped by him? It isamong the Mights of Man. Seventy-two Chateaus have flamed aloft in the Maconnais and Beaujolaisalone: this seems the centre of the conflagration; but it has spreadover Dauphine, Alsace, the Lyonnais; the whole South-East is in a blaze. All over the North, from Rouen to Metz, disorder is abroad: smugglersof salt go openly in armed bands: the barriers of towns are burnt;toll-gatherers, tax-gatherers, official persons put to flight. 'It wasthought, ' says Young, 'the people, from hunger, would revolt;' and wesee they have done it. Desperate Lackalls, long prowling aimless, nowfinding hope in desperation itself, everywhere form a nucleus. They ringthe Church bell by way of tocsin: and the Parish turns out to the work. (See Hist. Parl. Ii. 243-6. ) Ferocity, atrocity; hunger and revenge:such work as we can imagine! Ill stands it now with the Seigneur, who, for example, 'has walled upthe only Fountain of the Township;' who has ridden high on his chartierand parchments; who has preserved Game not wisely but too well. Churchesalso, and Canonries, are sacked, without mercy; which have shorn theflock too close, forgetting to feed it. Wo to the land over whichSansculottism, in its day of vengeance, tramps roughshod, --shod insabots! Highbred Seigneurs, with their delicate women and little ones, had to 'fly half-naked, ' under cloud of night; glad to escape theflames, and even worse. You meet them at the tables-d'hote of inns;making wise reflections or foolish that 'rank is destroyed;' uncertainwhither they shall now wend. (See Young, i. 149, &c. ) The metayer willfind it convenient to be slack in paying rent. As for the Tax-gatherer, he, long hunting as a biped of prey, may now get hunted as one; hisMajesty's Exchequer will not 'fill up the Deficit, ' this season: it isthe notion of many that a Patriot Majesty, being the Restorer of FrenchLiberty, has abolished most taxes, though, for their private ends, somemen make a secret of it. Where this will end? In the Abyss, one may prophecy; whither allDelusions are, at all moments, travelling; where this Delusion has nowarrived. For if there be a Faith, from of old, it is this, as we oftenrepeat, that no Lie can live for ever. The very Truth has to changeits vesture, from time to time; and be born again. But all Lies havesentence of death written down against them, and Heaven's Chanceryitself; and, slowly or fast, advance incessantly towards their hour. 'The sign of a Grand Seigneur being landlord, ' says the vehementplain-spoken Arthur Young, 'are wastes, landes, deserts, ling: go tohis residence, you will find it in the middle of a forest, peopledwith deer, wild boars and wolves. The fields are scenes of pitiablemanagement, as the houses are of misery. To see so many millions ofhands, that would be industrious, all idle and starving: Oh, if I werelegislator of France, for one day, I would make these great lords skipagain!' (Arthur Young, i. 12, 48, 84, &c. ) O Arthur, thou now actuallybeholdest them skip:--wilt thou grow to grumble at that too? For long years and generations it lasted, but the time came. Featherbrain, whom no reasoning and no pleading could touch, the glareof the firebrand had to illuminate: there remained but that method. Consider it, look at it! The widow is gathering nettles for herchildren's dinner; a perfumed Seigneur, delicately lounging in theOeil-de-Boeuf, has an alchemy whereby he will extract from her the thirdnettle, and name it Rent and Law: such an arrangement must end. Oughtit? But, O most fearful is such an ending! Let those, to whom God, inHis great mercy, has granted time and space, prepare another and milderone. To women it is a matter of wonder that the Seigneurs did not dosomething to help themselves; say, combine, and arm: for there were a'hundred and fifty thousand of them, ' all violent enough. Unhappily, ahundred and fifty thousand, scattered over wide Provinces, divided bymutual ill-will, cannot combine. The highest Seigneurs, as we have seen, had already emigrated, --with a view of putting France to the blush. Neither are arms now the peculiar property of Seigneurs; but of everymortal who has ten shillings, wherewith to buy a secondhand firelock. Besides, those starving Peasants, after all, have not four feet andclaws, that you could keep them down permanently in that manner. Theyare not even of black colour; they are mere Unwashed Seigneurs; anda Seigneur too has human bowels!--The Seigneurs did what they could;enrolled in National Guards; fled, with shrieks, complaining to Heavenand Earth. One Seigneur, famed Memmay of Quincey, near Vesoul, invitedall the rustics of his neighbourhood to a banquet; blew up his Chateauand them with gunpowder; and instantaneously vanished, no man yet knowswhither. (Hist. Parl. Ii. 161. ) Some half dozen years after, he cameback; and demonstrated that it was by accident. Nor are the authorities idle: though unluckily, all Authorities, Municipalities and such like, are in the uncertain transitionary state;getting regenerated from old Monarchic to new Democratic; no Officialyet knows clearly what he is. Nevertheless, Mayors old or new do gatherMarechaussees, National Guards, Troops of the line; justice, of the mostsummary sort, is not wanting. The Electoral Committee of Macon, thoughbut a Committee, goes the length of hanging, for its own behoof, as manyas twenty. The Prevot of Dauphine traverses the country 'with a movablecolumn, ' with tipstaves, gallows-ropes; for gallows any tree will serve, and suspend its culprit, or 'thirteen' culprits. Unhappy country! How is the fair gold-and-green of the ripe bright Yeardefaced with horrid blackness: black ashes of Chateaus, black bodies ofgibetted Men! Industry has ceased in it; not sounds of the hammer andsaw, but of the tocsin and alarm-drum. The sceptre has departed, whither one knows not;--breaking itself in pieces: here impotent, theretyrannous. National Guards are unskilful, and of doubtful purpose;Soldiers are inclined to mutiny: there is danger that they two mayquarrel, danger that they may agree. Strasburg has seen riots: aTownhall torn to shreds, its archives scattered white on the winds;drunk soldiers embracing drunk citizens for three days, and MayorDietrich and Marshal Rochambeau reduced nigh to desperation. (ArthurYoung, i. 141. --Dampmartin: Evenemens qui se sont passes sous mes yeux, i. 105-127. ) Through the middle of all which phenomena, is seen, on his triumphanttransit, 'escorted, ' through Befort for instance, 'by fifty NationalHorsemen and all the military music of the place, '--M. Necker, returningfrom Bale! Glorious as the meridian; though poor Necker himself partlyguesses whither it is leading. (Biographie Universelle, para Necker (byLally-Tollendal). ) One highest culminating day, at the Paris Townhall;with immortal vivats, with wife and daughter kneeling publicly to kisshis hand; with Besenval's pardon granted, --but indeed revoked beforesunset: one highest day, but then lower days, and ever lower, down evento lowest! Such magic is in a name; and in the want of a name. Like someenchanted Mambrino's Helmet, essential to victory, comes this 'Saviourof France;' beshouted, becymballed by the world:--alas, so soon, tobe disenchanted, to be pitched shamefully over the lists as a Barber'sBason! Gibbon 'could wish to shew him' (in this ejected, Barber's-Basonstate) to any man of solidity, who were minded to have the soul burntout of him, and become a caput mortuum, by Ambition, unsuccessful orsuccessful. (Gibbon's Letters. ) Another small phasis we add, and no more: how, in the Autumn months, oursharp-tempered Arthur has been 'pestered for some days past, ' by shot, lead-drops and slugs, 'rattling five or six times into my chaise andabout my ears;' all the mob of the country gone out to kill game!(Young, i. 176. ) It is even so. On the Cliffs of Dover, over all theMarches of France, there appear, this autumn, two Signs on the Earth:emigrant flights of French Seigneurs; emigrant winged flights of FrenchGame! Finished, one may say, or as good as finished, is the Preservationof Game on this Earth; completed for endless Time. What part it had toplay in the History of Civilisation is played plaudite; exeat! In this manner does Sansculottism blaze up, illustrating manythings;--producing, among the rest, as we saw, on the Fourth of August, that semi-miraculous Night of Pentecost in the National Assembly; semimiraculous, which had its causes, and its effects. Feudalism is struckdead; not on parchment only, and by ink; but in very fact, by fire; say, by self-combustion. This conflagration of the South-East will abate;will be got scattered, to the West, or elsewhither: extinguish it willnot, till the fuel be all done. Chapter 1. 6. IV. In Queue. If we look now at Paris, one thing is too evident: that the Baker'sshops have got their Queues, or Tails; their long strings of purchasers, arranged in tail, so that the first come be the first served, --were theshop once open! This waiting in tail, not seen since the early days ofJuly, again makes its appearance in August. In time, we shall see itperfected by practice to the rank almost of an art; and the art, orquasi-art, of standing in tail become one of the characteristics of theParisian People, distinguishing them from all other Peoples whatsoever. But consider, while work itself is so scarce, how a man must not onlyrealise money; but stand waiting (if his wife is too weak to wait andstruggle) for half days in the Tail, till he get it changed for dearbad bread! Controversies, to the length, sometimes of blood and battery, must arise in these exasperated Queues. Or if no controversy, then it isbut one accordant Pange Lingua of complaint against the Powers thatbe. France has begun her long Curriculum of Hungering, instructive andproductive beyond Academic Curriculums; which extends over some sevenmost strenuous years. As Jean Paul says, of his own Life, 'to a greatheight shall the business of Hungering go. ' Or consider, in strange contrast, the jubilee Ceremonies; for, ingeneral, the aspect of Paris presents these two features: jubileeceremonials and scarcity of victual. Processions enough walk in jubilee;of Young Women, decked and dizened, their ribands all tricolor; movingwith song and tabor, to the Shrine of Sainte Genevieve, to thank herthat the Bastille is down. The Strong Men of the Market, and the StrongWomen, fail not with their bouquets and speeches. Abbe Fauchet, famedin such work (for Abbe Lefevre could only distribute powder) blessestricolor cloth for the National Guard; and makes it a National TricolorFlag; victorious, or to be victorious, in the cause of civil andreligious liberty all over the world. Fauchet, we say, is the man forTe-Deums, and public Consecrations;--to which, as in this instance ofthe Flag, our National Guard will 'reply with volleys of musketry, 'Church and Cathedral though it be; (See Hist. Parl. Iii. 20; Mercier, Nouveau Paris, &c. ) filling Notre Dame with such noisiest fuliginousAmen, significant of several things. On the whole, we will say our new Mayor Bailly; our new CommanderLafayette, named also 'Scipio-Americanus, ' have bought their prefermentdear. Bailly rides in gilt state-coach, with beefeaters and sumptuosity;Camille Desmoulins, and others, sniffing at him for it: Scipio bestridesthe 'white charger, ' and waves with civic plumes in sight of all France. Neither of them, however, does it for nothing; but, in truth, at anexorbitant rate. At this rate, namely: of feeding Paris, and keepingit from fighting. Out of the City-funds, some seventeen thousand of theutterly destitute are employed digging on Montmartre, at tenpence a day, which buys them, at market price, almost two pounds of bad bread;--theylook very yellow, when Lafayette goes to harangue them. The Townhallis in travail, night and day; it must bring forth Bread, a MunicipalConstitution, regulations of all kinds, curbs on the Sansculottic Press;above all, Bread, Bread. Purveyors prowl the country far and wide, with the appetite of lions;detect hidden grain, purchase open grain; by gentle means or forcible, must and will find grain. A most thankless task; and so difficult, so dangerous, --even if a man did gain some trifle by it! On the 19thAugust, there is food for one day. (See Bailly, Memoires, ii. 137-409. )Complaints there are that the food is spoiled, and produces an effecton the intestines: not corn but plaster-of-Paris! Which effect on theintestines, as well as that 'smarting in the throat and palate, ' aTownhall Proclamation warns you to disregard, or even to consider asdrastic-beneficial. The Mayor of Saint-Denis, so black was his bread, has, by a dyspeptic populace, been hanged on the Lanterne there. National Guards protect the Paris Corn-Market: first ten suffice; thensix hundred. (Hist. Parl. Ii. 421. ) Busy are ye, Bailly, Brissot deWarville, Condorcet, and ye others! For, as just hinted, there is a Municipal Constitution to be made too. The old Bastille Electors, after some ten days of psalmodying over theirglorious victory, began to hear it asked, in a splenetic tone, Who putyou there? They accordingly had to give place, not without moanings, andaudible growlings on both sides, to a new larger Body, specially electedfor that post. Which new Body, augmented, altered, then fixed finallyat the number of Three Hundred, with the title of Town Representatives(Representans de la Commune), now sits there; rightly portioned intoCommittees; assiduous making a Constitution; at all moments when notseeking flour. And such a Constitution; little short of miraculous: one that shall'consolidate the Revolution'! The Revolution is finished, then? MayorBailly and all respectable friends of Freedom would fain think so. YourRevolution, like jelly sufficiently boiled, needs only to be poured intoshapes, of Constitution, and 'consolidated' therein? Could it, indeed, contrive to cool; which last, however, is precisely the doubtful thing, or even the not doubtful! Unhappy friends of Freedom; consolidating a Revolution! They must sitat work there, their pavilion spread on very Chaos; between two hostileworlds, the Upper Court-world, the Nether Sansculottic one; and, beatenon by both, toil painfully, perilously, --doing, in sad literal earnest, 'the impossible. ' Chapter 1. 6. V. The Fourth Estate. Pamphleteering opens its abysmal throat wider and wider: never to closemore. Our Philosophes, indeed, rather withdraw; after the manner ofMarmontel, 'retiring in disgust the first day. ' Abbe Raynal, grown grayand quiet in his Marseilles domicile, is little content with this work;the last literary act of the man will again be an act of rebellion: anindignant Letter to the Constituent Assembly; answered by 'the orderof the day. ' Thus also Philosophe Morellet puckers discontented brows;being indeed threatened in his benefices by that Fourth of August: itis clearly going too far. How astonishing that those 'haggard figuresin woollen jupes' would not rest as satisfied with Speculation, andvictorious Analysis, as we! Alas, yes: Speculation, Philosophism, once the ornament and wealth ofthe saloon, will now coin itself into mere Practical Propositions, andcirculate on street and highway, universally; with results! A FourthEstate, of Able Editors, springs up; increases and multiplies;irrepressible, incalculable. New Printers, new Journals, and ever new(so prurient is the world), let our Three Hundred curb and consolidateas they can! Loustalot, under the wing of Prudhomme dull-blusteringPrinter, edits weekly his Revolutions de Paris; in an acrid, emphaticmanner. Acrid, corrosive, as the spirit of sloes and copperas, is Marat, Friend of the People; struck already with the fact that the NationalAssembly, so full of Aristocrats, 'can do nothing, ' except dissolveitself, and make way for a better; that the Townhall Representatives arelittle other than babblers and imbeciles, if not even knaves. Poor isthis man; squalid, and dwells in garrets; a man unlovely to the sense, outward and inward; a man forbid;--and is becoming fanatical, possessedwith fixed-idea. Cruel lusus of Nature! Did Nature, O poor Marat, asin cruel sport, knead thee out of her leavings, and miscellaneouswaste clay; and fling thee forth stepdamelike, a Distraction into thisdistracted Eighteenth Century? Work is appointed thee there; which thoushalt do. The Three Hundred have summoned and will again summon Marat:but always he croaks forth answer sufficient; always he will defy them, or elude them; and endure no gag. Carra, 'Ex-secretary of a decapitated Hospodar, ' and then of aNecklace-Cardinal; likewise pamphleteer, Adventurer in many scenes andlands, --draws nigh to Mercier, of the Tableau de Paris; and, with foamon his lips, proposes an Annales Patriotiques. The Moniteur goes itsprosperous way; Barrere 'weeps, ' on Paper as yet loyal; Rivarol, Royouare not idle. Deep calls to deep: your Domine Salvum Fac Regem shallawaken Pange Lingua; with an Ami-du-Peuple there is a King's-FriendNewspaper, Ami-du-Roi. Camille Desmoulins has appointed himselfProcureur-General de la Lanterne, Attorney-General of the Lamp-iron; andpleads, not with atrocity, under an atrocious title; editing weekly hisbrilliant Revolutions of Paris and Brabant. Brilliant, we say: for if, in that thick murk of Journalism, with its dull blustering, withits fixed or loose fury, any ray of genius greet thee, be sure it isCamille's. The thing that Camille teaches he, with his light finger, adorns: brightness plays, gentle, unexpected, amid horrible confusions;often is the word of Camille worth reading, when no other's is. Questionable Camille, how thou glitterest with a fallen, rebellious, yetstill semi-celestial light; as is the star-light on the brow of Lucifer!Son of the Morning, into what times and what lands, art thou fallen! But in all things is good;--though not good for 'consolidatingRevolutions. ' Thousand wagon-loads of this Pamphleteering and Newspapermatter, lie rotting slowly in the Public Libraries of our Europe. Snatched from the great gulf, like oysters by bibliomaniac pearl-divers, there must they first rot, then what was pearl, in Camille or others, may be seen as such, and continue as such. Nor has public speaking declined, though Lafayette and his Patrols looksour on it. Loud always is the Palais Royal, loudest the Cafe de Foy;such a miscellany of Citizens and Citizenesses circulating there. 'Nowand then, ' according to Camille, 'some Citizens employ the liberty ofthe press for a private purpose; so that this or the other Patriot findshimself short of his watch or pocket-handkerchief!' But, for the rest, in Camille's opinion, nothing can be a livelier image of the RomanForum. 'A Patriot proposes his motion; if it finds any supporters, theymake him mount on a chair, and speak. If he is applauded, he prospersand redacts; if he is hissed, he goes his ways. ' Thus they, circulatingand perorating. Tall shaggy Marquis Saint-Huruge, a man that hashad losses, and has deserved them, is seen eminent, and also heard. 'Bellowing' is the character of his voice, like that of a Bull ofBashan; voice which drowns all voices, which causes frequently thehearts of men to leap. Cracked or half-cracked is this tall Marquis'shead; uncracked are his lungs; the cracked and the uncracked shall alikeavail him. Consider further that each of the Forty-eight Districts has its ownCommittee; speaking and motioning continually; aiding in the search forgrain, in the search for a Constitution; checking and spurring the poorThree Hundred of the Townhall. That Danton, with a 'voice reverberatingfrom the domes, ' is President of the Cordeliers District; which hasalready become a Goshen of Patriotism. That apart from the 'seventeenthousand utterly necessitous, digging on Montmartre, ' most of whom, indeed, have got passes, and been dismissed into Space 'with fourshillings, '--there is a strike, or union, of Domestics out of place; whoassemble for public speaking: next, a strike of Tailors, for even theywill strike and speak; further, a strike of Journeymen Cordwainers; astrike of Apothecaries: so dear is bread. (Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 359, 417, 423. ) All these, having struck, must speak; generally underthe open canopy; and pass resolutions;--Lafayette and his Patrolswatching them suspiciously from the distance. Unhappy mortals: such tugging and lugging, and throttling of oneanother, to divide, in some not intolerable way, the joint Felicity ofman in this Earth; when the whole lot to be divided is such a 'feast ofshells!'--Diligent are the Three Hundred; none equals Scipio Americanusin dealing with mobs. But surely all these things bode ill for theconsolidating of a Revolution. BOOK VII. THE INSURRECTION OF WOMEN Chapter 1. 7. I. Patrollotism. No, Friends, this Revolution is not of the consolidating kind. Donot fires, fevers, sown seeds, chemical mixtures, men, events; allembodiments of Force that work in this miraculous Complex of Forces, named Universe, --go on growing, through their natural phases anddevelopments, each according to its kind; reach their height, reachtheir visible decline; finally sink under, vanishing, and what we calldie? They all grow; there is nothing but what grows, and shoots forthinto its special expansion, --once give it leave to spring. Observe toothat each grows with a rapidity proportioned, in general, to the madnessand unhealthiness there is in it: slow regular growth, though this alsoends in death, is what we name health and sanity. A Sansculottism, which has prostrated Bastilles, which has got pikeand musket, and now goes burning Chateaus, passing resolutions andharanguing under roof and sky, may be said to have sprung; and, by lawof Nature, must grow. To judge by the madness and diseasedness bothof itself, and of the soil and element it is in, one might expect therapidity and monstrosity would be extreme. Many things too, especially all diseased things, grow by shoots andfits. The first grand fit and shooting forth of Sansculottism withthat of Paris conquering its King; for Bailly's figure of rhetoric wasall-too sad a reality. The King is conquered; going at large on hisparole; on condition, say, of absolutely good behaviour, --which, inthese circumstances, will unhappily mean no behaviour whatever. A quiteuntenable position, that of Majesty put on its good behaviour! Alas, isit not natural that whatever lives try to keep itself living? Whereuponhis Majesty's behaviour will soon become exceptionable; and so theSecond grand Fit of Sansculottism, that of putting him in durance, cannot be distant. Necker, in the National Assembly, is making moan, as usual about hisDeficit: Barriers and Customhouses burnt; the Tax-gatherer hunted, nothunting; his Majesty's Exchequer all but empty. The remedy is a Loan ofthirty millions; then, on still more enticing terms, a Loan of eightymillions: neither of which Loans, unhappily, will the Stockjobbersventure to lend. The Stockjobber has no country, except his own blackpool of Agio. And yet, in those days, for men that have a country, what a glow ofpatriotism burns in many a heart; penetrating inwards to the very purse!So early as the 7th of August, a Don Patriotique, 'a Patriotic Giftof jewels to a considerable extent, ' has been solemnly made by certainParisian women; and solemnly accepted, with honourable mention. Whomforthwith all the world takes to imitating and emulating. PatrioticGifts, always with some heroic eloquence, which the President mustanswer and the Assembly listen to, flow in from far and near: in suchnumber that the honourable mention can only be performed in 'listspublished at stated epochs. ' Each gives what he can: the verycordwainers have behaved munificently; one landed proprietor gives aforest; fashionable society gives its shoebuckles, takes cheerfully toshoe-ties. Unfortunate females give what they 'have amassed in loving. '(Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 427. ) The smell of all cash, as Vespasianthought, is good. Beautiful, and yet inadequate! The Clergy must be 'invited' to melttheir superfluous Church-plate, --in the Royal Mint. Nay finally, aPatriotic Contribution, of the forcible sort, must be determined on, though unwillingly: let the fourth part of your declared yearly revenue, for this once only, be paid down; so shall a National Assembly make theConstitution, undistracted at least by insolvency. Their own wages, assettled on the 17th of August, are but Eighteen Francs a day, each man;but the Public Service must have sinews, must have money. To appease theDeficit; not to 'combler, or choke the Deficit, ' if you or mortal could!For withal, as Mirabeau was heard saying, "it is the Deficit that savesus. " Towards the end of August, our National Assembly in its constitutionallabours, has got so far as the question of Veto: shall Majesty have aVeto on the National Enactments; or not have a Veto? What speeches werespoken, within doors and without; clear, and also passionate logic;imprecations, comminations; gone happily, for most part, to Limbo!Through the cracked brain, and uncracked lungs of Saint-Huruge, thePalais Royal rebellows with Veto. Journalism is busy, France rings withVeto. 'I shall never forget, ' says Dumont, 'my going to Paris, one ofthese days, with Mirabeau; and the crowd of people we found waiting forhis carriage, about Le Jay the Bookseller's shop. They flung themselvesbefore him; conjuring him with tears in their eyes not to suffer theVeto Absolu. They were in a frenzy: "Monsieur le Comte, you are thepeople's father; you must save us; you must defend us against thosevillains who are bringing back Despotism. If the King get this Veto, what is the use of National Assembly? We are slaves, all is done. "'(Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 156. ) Friends, if the sky fall, therewill be catching of larks! Mirabeau, adds Dumont, was eminent on suchoccasions: he answered vaguely, with a Patrician imperturbability, andbound himself to nothing. Deputations go to the Hotel-de-Ville; anonymous Letters to Aristocratsin the National Assembly, threatening that fifteen thousand, orsometimes that sixty thousand, 'will march to illuminate you. ' The ParisDistricts are astir; Petitions signing: Saint-Huruge sets forth from thePalais Royal, with an escort of fifteen hundred individuals, to petitionin person. Resolute, or seemingly so, is the tall shaggy Marquis, isthe Cafe de Foy: but resolute also is Commandant-General Lafayette. The streets are all beset by Patrols: Saint-Huruge is stopped at theBarriere des Bon Hommes; he may bellow like the bulls of Bashan; butabsolutely must return. The brethren of the Palais Royal 'circulate allnight, ' and make motions, under the open canopy; all Coffee-houses beingshut. Nevertheless Lafayette and the Townhall do prevail: Saint-Hurugeis thrown into prison; Veto Absolu adjusts itself into Suspensive Veto, prohibition not forever, but for a term of time; and this doom's-clamourwill grow silent, as the others have done. So far has Consolidation prospered, though with difficulty; repressingthe Nether Sansculottic world; and the Constitution shall be made. Withdifficulty: amid jubilee and scarcity; Patriotic Gifts, Bakers'-queues;Abbe-Fauchet Harangues, with their Amen of platoon-musketry! ScipioAmericanus has deserved thanks from the National Assembly and France. They offer him stipends and emoluments, to a handsome extent; all whichstipends and emoluments he, covetous of far other blessedness than meremoney, does, in his chivalrous way, without scruple, refuse. To the Parisian common man, meanwhile, one thing remains inconceivable:that now when the Bastille is down, and French Liberty restored, grainshould continue so dear. Our Rights of Man are voted, Feudalism andall Tyranny abolished; yet behold we stand in queue! Is it Aristocratforestallers; a Court still bent on intrigues? Something is rotten, somewhere. And yet, alas, what to do? Lafayette, with his Patrols prohibits everything, even complaint. Saint-Huruge and other heroes of the Veto liein durance. People's-Friend Marat was seized; Printers of PatrioticJournals are fettered and forbidden; the very Hawkers cannot cry, tillthey get license, and leaden badges. Blue National Guards ruthlesslydissipate all groups; scour, with levelled bayonets, the Palais Royalitself. Pass, on your affairs, along the Rue Taranne, the Patrol, presenting his bayonet, cries, To the left! Turn into the RueSaint-Benoit, he cries, To the right! A judicious Patriot (like CamilleDesmoulins, in this instance) is driven, for quietness's sake, to takethe gutter. O much-suffering People, our glorious Revolution is evaporating intricolor ceremonies, and complimentary harangues! Of which latter, as Loustalot acridly calculates, 'upwards of two thousand have beendelivered within the last month, at the Townhall alone. ' (Revolutionsde Paris Newspaper (cited in Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 357). ) Andour mouths, unfilled with bread, are to be shut, under penalties? TheCaricaturist promulgates his emblematic Tablature: Le Patrouillotismechassant le Patriotisme, Patriotism driven out by Patrollotism. RuthlessPatrols; long superfine harangues; and scanty ill-baked loaves, morelike baked Bath bricks, --which produce an effect on the intestines!Where will this end? In consolidation? Chapter 1. 7. II. O Richard, O my King. For, alas, neither is the Townhall itself without misgivings. The NetherSansculottic world has been suppressed hitherto: but then the UpperCourt-world! Symptoms there are that the Oeil-de-Boeuf is rallying. More than once in the Townhall Sanhedrim; often enough, from thoseoutspoken Bakers'-queues, has the wish uttered itself: O that ourRestorer of French Liberty were here; that he could see with his owneyes, not with the false eyes of Queens and Cabals, and his really goodheart be enlightened! For falsehood still environs him; intriguingDukes de Guiche, with Bodyguards; scouts of Bouille; a new flight ofintriguers, now that the old is flown. What else means this advent ofthe Regiment de Flandre; entering Versailles, as we hear, on the 23rdof September, with two pieces of cannon? Did not the Versailles NationalGuard do duty at the Chateau? Had they not Swiss; Hundred Swiss;Gardes-du-Corps, Bodyguards so-called? Nay, it would seem, the number ofBodyguards on duty has, by a manoeuvre, been doubled: the new relievingBattalion of them arrived at its time; but the old relieved one does notdepart! Actually, there runs a whisper through the best informed Upper-Circles, or a nod still more potentous than whispering, of his Majesty's flyingto Metz; of a Bond (to stand by him therein) which has been signed byNoblesse and Clergy, to the incredible amount of thirty, or even ofsixty thousand. Lafayette coldly whispers it, and coldly asseveratesit, to Count d'Estaing at the Dinner-table; and d'Estaing, one ofthe bravest men, quakes to the core lest some lackey overhear it; andtumbles thoughtful, without sleep, all night. (Brouillon de Lettre deM. D'Estaing a la Reine in Histoire Parlementaire, iii. 24. ) RegimentFlandre, as we said, is clearly arrived. His Majesty, they say, hesitates about sanctioning the Fourth of August; makes observations, of chilling tenor, on the very Rights of Man! Likewise, may not allpersons, the Bakers'-queues themselves discern on the streets of Paris, the most astonishing number of Officers on furlough, Crosses of St. Louis, and such like? Some reckon 'from a thousand to twelve hundred. 'Officers of all uniforms; nay one uniform never before seen by eye:green faced with red! The tricolor cockade is not always visible: butwhat, in the name of Heaven, may these black cockades, which some wear, foreshadow? Hunger whets everything, especially Suspicion and Indignation. Realitiesthemselves, in this Paris, have grown unreal: preternatural. Phantasmsonce more stalk through the brain of hungry France. O ye laggards anddastards, cry shrill voices from the Queues, if ye had the hearts ofmen, ye would take your pikes and secondhand firelocks, and look intoit; not leave your wives and daughters to be starved, murdered, andworse!--Peace, women! The heart of man is bitter and heavy; Patriotism, driven out by Patrollotism, knows not what to resolve on. The truth is, the Oeil-de-Boeuf has rallied; to a certain unknownextent. A changed Oeil-de-Boeuf; with Versailles National Guards, intheir tricolor cockades, doing duty there; a Court all flaring withtricolor! Yet even to a tricolor Court men will rally. Ye loyal hearts, burnt-out Seigneurs, rally round your Queen! With wishes; which willproduce hopes; which will produce attempts! For indeed self-preservation being such a law of Nature, what can arallied Court do, but attempt and endeavour, or call it plot, --with suchwisdom and unwisdom as it has? They will fly, escorted, to Metz, where brave Bouille commands; they will raise the Royal Standard: theBond-signatures shall become armed men. Were not the King solanguid! Their Bond, if at all signed, must be signed without hisprivity. --Unhappy King, he has but one resolution: not to have a civilwar. For the rest, he still hunts, having ceased lockmaking; he stilldozes, and digests; is clay in the hands of the potter. Ill will it farewith him, in a world where all is helping itself; where, as has beenwritten, 'whosoever is not hammer must be stithy;' and 'the very hyssopon the wall grows there, in that chink, because the whole Universe couldnot prevent its growing!' But as for the coming up of this Regiment de Flandre, may it not beurged that there were Saint-Huruge Petitions, and continual meal-mobs?Undebauched Soldiers, be there plot, or only dim elements of a plot, arealways good. Did not the Versailles Municipality (an old Monarchic one, not yet refounded into a Democratic) instantly second the proposal? Naythe very Versailles National Guard, wearied with continual duty atthe Chateau, did not object; only Draper Lecointre, who is now MajorLecointre, shook his head. --Yes, Friends, surely it was natural thisRegiment de Flandre should be sent for, since it could be got. It wasnatural that, at sight of military bandoleers, the heart of the ralliedOeil-de-Boeuf should revive; and Maids of Honour, and gentlemen ofhonour, speak comfortable words to epauletted defenders, and to oneanother. Natural also, and mere common civility, that the Bodyguards, aRegiment of Gentlemen, should invite their Flandre brethren to a Dinnerof welcome!--Such invitation, in the last days of September, is givenand accepted. Dinners are defined as 'the ultimate act of communion;' men that canhave communion in nothing else, can sympathetically eat together, canstill rise into some glow of brotherhood over food and wine. The dinneris fixed on, for Thursday the First of October; and ought to have a fineeffect. Further, as such Dinner may be rather extensive, and even theNoncommissioned and the Common man be introduced, to see and to hear, could not His Majesty's Opera Apartment, which has lain quite silentever since Kaiser Joseph was here, be obtained for the purpose?--TheHall of the Opera is granted; the Salon d'Hercule shall be drawingroom. Not only the Officers of Flandre, but of the Swiss, of the HundredSwiss, nay of the Versailles National Guard, such of them as have anyloyalty, shall feast: it will be a Repast like few. And now suppose this Repast, the solid part of it, transacted; and thefirst bottle over. Suppose the customary loyal toasts drunk; theKing's health, the Queen's with deafening vivats;--that of theNation 'omitted, ' or even 'rejected. ' Suppose champagne flowing; withpot-valorous speech, with instrumental music; empty feathered headsgrowing ever the noisier, in their own emptiness, in each other's noise!Her Majesty, who looks unusually sad to-night (his Majesty sittingdulled with the day's hunting), is told that the sight of it would cheerher. Behold! She enters there, issuing from her State-rooms, likethe Moon from the clouds, this fairest unhappy Queen of Hearts; royalHusband by her side, young Dauphin in her arms! She descends from theBoxes, amid splendour and acclaim; walks queen-like, round the Tables;gracefully escorted, gracefully nodding; her looks full of sorrow, yetof gratitude and daring, with the hope of France on her mother-bosom!And now, the band striking up, O Richard, O mon Roi, l'universt'abandonne (O Richard, O my King, and world is all forsakingthee)--could man do other than rise to height of pity, of loyal valour?Could featherheaded young ensigns do other than, by white BourbonCockades, handed them from fair fingers; by waving of swords, drawn topledge the Queen's health; by trampling of National Cockades; byscaling the Boxes, whence intrusive murmurs may come; by vociferation, tripudiation, sound, fury and distraction, within doors andwithout, --testify what tempest-tost state of vacuity they are in?Till champagne and tripudiation do their work; and all lie silent, horizontal; passively slumbering, with meed-of-battle dreams!-- A natural Repast, in ordinary times, a harmless one: now fatal, as thatof Thyestes; as that of Job's Sons, when a strong wind smote the fourcorners of their banquet-house! Poor ill-advised Marie-Antoinette;with a woman's vehemence, not with a sovereign's foresight! It was sonatural, yet so unwise. Next day, in public speech of ceremony, herMajesty declares herself 'delighted with the Thursday. ' The heart of the Oeil-de-Boeuf glows into hope; into daring, whichis premature. Rallied Maids of Honour, waited on by Abbes, sew 'whitecockades;' distribute them, with words, with glances, to epaulettedyouths; who in return, may kiss, not without fervour, the fair sewingfingers. Captains of horse and foot go swashing with 'enormous whitecockades;' nay one Versailles National Captain had mounted the like, sowitching were the words and glances; and laid aside his tricolor! Wellmay Major Lecointre shake his head with a look of severity; and speakaudible resentful words. But now a swashbuckler, with enormous whitecockade, overhearing the Major, invites him insolently, once and thenagain elsewhere, to recant; and failing that, to duel. Which latter featMajor Lecointre declares that he will not perform, not at least by anyknown laws of fence; that he nevertheless will, according to mere law ofNature, by dirk and blade, 'exterminate' any 'vile gladiator, ' who mayinsult him or the Nation;--whereupon (for the Major is actually drawinghis implement) 'they are parted, ' and no weasands slit. (Moniteur (inHistoire Parlementaire, iii. 59); Deux Amis (iii. 128-141); Campan (ii. 70-85), &c. &c. ) Chapter 1. 7. III. Black Cockades. But fancy what effect this Thyestes Repast and trampling on the NationalCockade, must have had in the Salle des Menus; in the famishingBakers'-queues at Paris! Nay such Thyestes Repasts, it would seem, continue. Flandre has given its Counter-Dinner to the Swiss and HundredSwiss; then on Saturday there has been another. Yes, here with us is famine; but yonder at Versailles is food; enoughand to spare! Patriotism stands in queue, shivering hungerstruck, insulted by Patrollotism; while bloodyminded Aristocrats, heated withexcess of high living, trample on the National Cockade. Can the atrocitybe true? Nay, look: green uniforms faced with red; black cockades, --thecolour of Night! Are we to have military onfall; and death also bystarvation? For behold the Corbeil Cornboat, which used to come twicea-day, with its Plaster-of-Paris meal, now comes only once. And theTownhall is deaf; and the men are laggard and dastard!--At the Cafe deFoy, this Saturday evening, a new thing is seen, not the last of itskind: a woman engaged in public speaking. Her poor man, she says, wasput to silence by his District; their Presidents and Officials wouldnot let him speak. Wherefore she here with her shrill tongue willspeak; denouncing, while her breath endures, the Corbeil-Boat, thePlaster-of-Paris bread, sacrilegious Opera-dinners, green uniforms, Pirate Aristocrats, and those black cockades of theirs!-- Truly, it is time for the black cockades at least, to vanish. ThemPatrollotism itself will not protect. Nay, sharp-tempered 'M. Tassin, 'at the Tuileries parade on Sunday morning, forgets all National militaryrule; starts from the ranks, wrenches down one black cockade whichis swashing ominous there; and tramples it fiercely into the soil ofFrance. Patrollotism itself is not without suppressed fury. Also theDistricts begin to stir; the voice of President Danton reverberates inthe Cordeliers: People's-Friend Marat has flown to Versailles and backagain;--swart bird, not of the halcyon kind! (Camille's Newspaper, Revolutions de Paris et de Brabant in Histoire Parlementaire, iii. 108. ) And so Patriot meets promenading Patriot, this Sunday; and sees hisown grim care reflected on the face of another. Groups, in spite ofPatrollotism, which is not so alert as usual, fluctuate deliberative:groups on the Bridges, on the Quais, at the patriotic Cafes. And everas any black cockade may emerge, rises the many-voiced growl and bark: Abas, Down! All black cockades are ruthlessly plucked off: one individualpicks his up again; kisses it, attempts to refix it; but a 'hundredcanes start into the air, ' and he desists. Still worse went it withanother individual; doomed, by extempore Plebiscitum, to the Lanterne;saved, with difficulty, by some active Corps-de-Garde. --Lafayette seessigns of an effervescence; which he doubles his Patrols, doubles hisdiligence, to prevent. So passes Sunday, the 4th of October 1789. Sullen is the male heart, repressed by Patrollotism; vehement is thefemale, irrepressible. The public-speaking woman at the Palais Royalwas not the only speaking one:--Men know not what the pantry is, whenit grows empty, only house-mothers know. O women, wives of men thatwill only calculate and not act! Patrollotism is strong; but Death, bystarvation and military onfall, is stronger. Patrollotism represses malePatriotism: but female Patriotism? Will Guards named National thrusttheir bayonets into the bosoms of women? Such thought, or rather suchdim unshaped raw-material of a thought, ferments universally underthe female night-cap; and, by earliest daybreak, on slight hint, willexplode. Chapter 1. 7. IV. The Menads. If Voltaire once, in splenetic humour, asked his countrymen: "But you, Gualches, what have you invented?" they can now answer: The Art ofInsurrection. It was an art needed in these last singular times: an art, for which the French nature, so full of vehemence, so free from depth, was perhaps of all others the fittest. Accordingly, to what a height, one may well say of perfection, hasthis branch of human industry been carried by France, within the lasthalf-century! Insurrection, which, Lafayette thought, might be 'the mostsacred of duties, ' ranks now, for the French people, among the dutieswhich they can perform. Other mobs are dull masses; which rollonwards with a dull fierce tenacity, a dull fierce heat, but emit nolight-flashes of genius as they go. The French mob, again, is among theliveliest phenomena of our world. So rapid, audacious; so clear-sighted, inventive, prompt to seize the moment; instinct with life to itsfinger-ends! That talent, were there no other, of spontaneously standingin queue, distinguishes, as we said, the French People from all Peoples, ancient and modern. Let the Reader confess too that, taking one thing with another, perhapsfew terrestrial Appearances are better worth considering than mobs. Your mob is a genuine outburst of Nature; issuing from, or communicatingwith, the deepest deep of Nature. When so much goes grinning andgrimacing as a lifeless Formality, and under the stiff buckram no heartcan be felt beating, here once more, if nowhere else, is a Sincerityand Reality. Shudder at it; or even shriek over it, if thou must;nevertheless consider it. Such a Complex of human Forces andIndividualities hurled forth, in their transcendental mood, to act andreact, on circumstances and on one another; to work out what it is inthem to work. The thing they will do is known to no man; least of all tothemselves. It is the inflammablest immeasurable Fire-work, generating, consuming itself. With what phases, to what extent, with what results itwill burn off, Philosophy and Perspicacity conjecture in vain. 'Man, ' as has been written, 'is for ever interesting to man; nayproperly there is nothing else interesting. ' In which light also, may wenot discern why most Battles have become so wearisome? Battles, inthese ages, are transacted by mechanism; with the slightest possibledevelopement of human individuality or spontaneity: men now even die, and kill one another, in an artificial manner. Battles ever sinceHomer's time, when they were Fighting Mobs, have mostly ceased to beworth looking at, worth reading of, or remembering. How many wearisomebloody Battles does History strive to represent; or even, in a huskyway, to sing:--and she would omit or carelessly slur-over this oneInsurrection of Women? A thought, or dim raw-material of a thought, was fermenting all night, universally in the female head, and might explode. In squalid garret, on Monday morning, Maternity awakes, to hear children weeping forbread. Maternity must forth to the streets, to the herb-marketsand Bakers'--queues; meets there with hunger-stricken Maternity, sympathetic, exasperative. O we unhappy women! But, instead ofBakers'-queues, why not to Aristocrats' palaces, the root of the matter?Allons! Let us assemble. To the Hotel-de-Ville; to Versailles; to theLanterne! In one of the Guardhouses of the Quartier Saint-Eustache, 'a youngwoman' seizes a drum, --for how shall National Guards give fire on women, on a young woman? The young woman seizes the drum; sets forth, beatingit, 'uttering cries relative to the dearth of grains. ' Descend, Omothers; descend, ye Judiths, to food and revenge!--All women gatherand go; crowds storm all stairs, force out all women: the femaleInsurrectionary Force, according to Camille, resembles the English Navalone; there is a universal 'Press of women. ' Robust Dames of the Halle, slim Mantua-makers, assiduous, risen with the dawn; ancient Virginitytripping to matins; the Housemaid, with early broom; all must go. Rouseye, O women; the laggard men will not act; they say, we ourselves mayact! And so, like snowbreak from the mountains, for every staircase isa melted brook, it storms; tumultuous, wild-shrilling, towards theHotel-de-Ville. Tumultuous, with or without drum-music: for the FaubourgSaint-Antoine also has tucked up its gown; and, with besom-staves, fire-irons, and even rusty pistols (void of ammunition), is flowing on. Sound of it flies, with a velocity of sound, to the outmost Barriers. By seven o'clock, on this raw October morning, fifth of the month, theTownhall will see wonders. Nay, as chance would have it, a male partyare already there; clustering tumultuously round some National Patrol, and a Baker who has been seized with short weights. They are there; andhave even lowered the rope of the Lanterne. So that the official personshave to smuggle forth the short-weighing Baker by back doors, and evensend 'to all the Districts' for more force. Grand it was, says Camille, to see so many Judiths, from eight to tenthousand of them in all, rushing out to search into the root of thematter! Not unfrightful it must have been; ludicro-terrific, and mostunmanageable. At such hour the overwatched Three Hundred are not yetstirring: none but some Clerks, a company of National Guards; and M. DeGouvion, the Major-general. Gouvion has fought in America for the causeof civil Liberty; a man of no inconsiderable heart, but deficient inhead. He is, for the moment, in his back apartment; assuaging UsherMaillard, the Bastille-serjeant, who has come, as too many do, with'representations. ' The assuagement is still incomplete when our Judithsarrive. The National Guards form on the outer stairs, with levelled bayonets;the ten thousand Judiths press up, resistless; with obtestations, withoutspread hands, --merely to speak to the Mayor. The rear forces them;nay, from male hands in the rear, stones already fly: the NationalGuards must do one of two things; sweep the Place de Greve with cannon, or else open to right and left. They open; the living deluge rushes in. Through all rooms and cabinets, upwards to the topmost belfry: ravenous;seeking arms, seeking Mayors, seeking justice;--while, again, thebetter-cressed (dressed?) speak kindly to the Clerks; point out themisery of these poor women; also their ailments, some even of aninteresting sort. (Deux Amis, iii. 141-166. ) Poor M. De Gouvion is shiftless in this extremity;--a man shiftless, perturbed; who will one day commit suicide. How happy for him thatUsher Maillard, the shifty, was there, at the moment, though makingrepresentations! Fly back, thou shifty Maillard; seek the BastilleCompany; and O return fast with it; above all, with thy own shifty head!For, behold, the Judiths can find no Mayor or Municipal; scarcely, in the topmost belfry, can they find poor Abbe Lefevre thePowder-distributor. Him, for want of a better, they suspend there; inthe pale morning light; over the top of all Paris, which swims in one'sfailing eyes:--a horrible end? Nay, the rope broke, as French ropesoften did; or else an Amazon cut it. Abbe Lefevre falls, some twentyfeet, rattling among the leads; and lives long years after, thoughalways with 'a tremblement in the limbs. ' (Dusaulx, Prise de la Bastille(note, p. 281. ). ) And now doors fly under hatchets; the Judiths have broken the Armoury;have seized guns and cannons, three money-bags, paper-heaps; torchesflare: in few minutes, our brave Hotel-de-Ville which dates from theFourth Henry, will, with all that it holds, be in flames! Chapter 1. 7. V. Usher Maillard. In flames, truly, --were it not that Usher Maillard, swift of foot, shifty of head, has returned! Maillard, of his own motion, for Gouvion or the rest would not evensanction him, --snatches a drum; descends the Porch-stairs, ran-tan, beating sharp, with loud rolls, his Rogues'-march: To Versailles!Allons; a Versailles! As men beat on kettle or warmingpan, when angryshe-bees, or say, flying desperate wasps, are to be hived; and thedesperate insects hear it, and cluster round it, --simply as rounda guidance, where there was none: so now these Menads round shiftyMaillard, Riding-Usher of the Chatelet. The axe pauses uplifted; AbbeLefevre is left half-hanged; from the belfry downwards all vomitsitself. What rub-a-dub is that? Stanislas Maillard, Bastille-hero, willlead us to Versailles? Joy to thee, Maillard; blessed art thou aboveRiding-Ushers! Away then, away! The seized cannon are yoked with seized cart-horses: brown-lockedDemoiselle Theroigne, with pike and helmet, sits there as gunneress, 'with haughty eye and serene fair countenance;' comparable, some think, to the Maid of Orleans, or even recalling 'the idea of Pallas Athene. '(Deux Amis, iii. 157. ) Maillard (for his drum still rolls) is, byheaven-rending acclamation, admitted General. Maillard hastens thelanguid march. Maillard, beating rhythmic, with sharp ran-tan, allalong the Quais, leads forward, with difficulty his Menadic host. Sucha host--marched not in silence! The bargeman pauses on the River; allwagoners and coachdrivers fly; men peer from windows, --not women, lest they be pressed. Sight of sights: Bacchantes, in these ultimateFormalized Ages! Bronze Henri looks on, from his Pont-Neuf; theMonarchic Louvre, Medicean Tuileries see a day not theretofore seen. And now Maillard has his Menads in the Champs Elysees (Fields Tartareanrather); and the Hotel-de-Ville has suffered comparatively nothing. Broken doors; an Abbe Lefevre, who shall never more distribute powder;three sacks of money, most part of which (for Sansculottism, thoughfamishing, is not without honour) shall be returned: (Hist. Parl. Iii. 310. ) this is all the damage. Great Maillard! A small nucleus of Orderis round his drum; but his outskirts fluctuate like the mad Ocean: forRascality male and female is flowing in on him, from the four winds;guidance there is none but in his single head and two drumsticks. O Maillard, when, since War first was, had General of Force such a taskbefore him, as thou this day? Walter the Penniless still touches thefeeling heart: but then Walter had sanction; had space to turn in; andalso his Crusaders were of the male sex. Thou, this day, disowned ofHeaven and Earth, art General of Menads. Their inarticulate frenzy thoumust on the spur of the instant, render into articulate words, intoactions that are not frantic. Fail in it, this way or that! PragmaticalOfficiality, with its penalties and law-books, waits before thee; Menadsstorm behind. If such hewed off the melodious head of Orpheus, andhurled it into the Peneus waters, what may they not make of thee, --theerhythmic merely, with no music but a sheepskin drum!--Maillard did notfail. Remarkable Maillard, if fame were not an accident, and History adistillation of Rumour, how remarkable wert thou! On the Elysian Fields, there is pause and fluctuation; but, forMaillard, no return. He persuades his Menads, clamorous for arms and theArsenal, that no arms are in the Arsenal; that an unarmed attitude, andpetition to a National Assembly, will be the best: he hastily nominatesor sanctions generalesses, captains of tens and fifties;--and so, inloosest-flowing order, to the rhythm of some 'eight drums' (having laidaside his own), with the Bastille Volunteers bringing up his rear, oncemore takes the road. Chaillot, which will promptly yield baked loaves, is not plundered; norare the Sevres Potteries broken. The old arches of Sevres Bridge echounder Menadic feet; Seine River gushes on with his perpetual murmur; andParis flings after us the boom of tocsin and alarm-drum, --inaudible, for the present, amid shrill-sounding hosts, and the splash of rainyweather. To Meudon, to Saint Cloud, on both hands, the report of them isgone abroad; and hearths, this evening, will have a topic. The pressof women still continues, for it is the cause of all Eve's Daughters, mothers that are, or that hope to be. No carriage-lady, were it withnever such hysterics, but must dismount, in the mud roads, in hersilk shoes, and walk. (Deux Amis, iii. 159. ) In this manner, amidwild October weather, they a wild unwinged stork-flight, through theastonished country, wend their way. Travellers of all sorts they stop;especially travellers or couriers from Paris. Deputy Lechapelier, in hiselegant vesture, from his elegant vehicle, looks forth amazed throughhis spectacles; apprehensive for life;--states eagerly that he isPatriot-Deputy Lechapelier, and even Old-President Lechapelier, whopresided on the Night of Pentecost, and is original member of the BretonClub. Thereupon 'rises huge shout of Vive Lechapelier, and several armedpersons spring up behind and before to escort him. ' (Ibid. Iii. 177;Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans, ii. 379. ) Nevertheless, news, despatches from Lafayette, or vague noise of rumour, have pierced through, by side roads. In the National Assembly, while allis busy discussing the order of the day; regretting that there shouldbe Anti-national Repasts in Opera-Halls; that his Majesty should stillhesitate about accepting the Rights of Man, and hang conditions andperadventures on them, --Mirabeau steps up to the President, experiencedMounier as it chanced to be; and articulates, in bass under-tone:"Mounier, Paris marche sur nous (Paris is marching on us). "--"May be (Jen'en sais rien)!"--"Believe it or disbelieve it, that is not my concern;but Paris, I say, is marching on us. Fall suddenly unwell; go over tothe Chateau; tell them this. There is not a moment to lose. "--"Parismarching on us?" responds Mounier, with an atrabiliar accent, "Well, somuch the better! We shall the sooner be a Republic. " Mirabeau quitshim, as one quits an experienced President getting blindfold into deepwaters; and the order of the day continues as before. Yes, Paris is marching on us; and more than the women of Paris! Scarcelywas Maillard gone, when M. De Gouvion's message to all the Districts, and such tocsin and drumming of the generale, began to take effect. Armed National Guards from every District; especially the Grenadiersof the Centre, who are our old Gardes Francaises, arrive, in quicksequence, on the Place de Greve. An 'immense people' is there;Saint-Antoine, with pike and rusty firelock, is all crowding thither, be it welcome or unwelcome. The Centre Grenadiers are received withcheering: "it is not cheers that we want, " answer they gloomily; "thenation has been insulted; to arms, and come with us for orders!" Ha, sits the wind so? Patriotism and Patrollotism are now one! The Three Hundred have assembled; 'all the Committees are in activity;'Lafayette is dictating despatches for Versailles, when a Deputation ofthe Centre Grenadiers introduces itself to him. The Deputation makesmilitary obeisance; and thus speaks, not without a kind of thought init: "Mon General, we are deputed by the Six Companies of Grenadiers. Wedo not think you a traitor, but we think the Government betrays you; itis time that this end. We cannot turn our bayonets against women cryingto us for bread. The people are miserable, the source of the mischief isat Versailles: we must go seek the King, and bring him to Paris. Wemust exterminate (exterminer) the Regiment de Flandre and theGardes-du-Corps, who have dared to trample on the National Cockade. Ifthe King be too weak to wear his crown, let him lay it down. You willcrown his Son, you will name a Council of Regency; and all will gobetter. " (Deux Amis, iii. 161. ) Reproachful astonishment paints itselfon the face of Lafayette; speaks itself from his eloquent chivalrouslips: in vain. "My General, we would shed the last drop of our blood foryou; but the root of the mischief is at Versailles; we must go and bringthe King to Paris; all the people wish it, tout le peuple le veut. " My General descends to the outer staircase; and harangues: once morein vain. "To Versailles! To Versailles!" Mayor Bailly, sent for throughfloods of Sansculottism, attempts academic oratory from his giltstate-coach; realizes nothing but infinite hoarse cries of: "Bread!To Versailles!"--and gladly shrinks within doors. Lafayette mounts thewhite charger; and again harangues and reharangues: with eloquence, withfirmness, indignant demonstration; with all things but persuasion. "ToVersailles! To Versailles!" So lasts it, hour after hour; for the spaceof half a day. The great Scipio Americanus can do nothing; not so much as escape. "Morbleu, mon General, " cry the Grenadiers serrying their ranks as thewhite charger makes a motion that way, "You will not leave us, you willabide with us!" A perilous juncture: Mayor Bailly and the Municipalssit quaking within doors; My General is prisoner without: the Placede Greve, with its thirty thousand Regulars, its whole irregularSaint-Antoine and Saint-Marceau, is one minatory mass of clear or rustysteel; all hearts set, with a moody fixedness, on one object. Moody, fixed are all hearts: tranquil is no heart, --if it be not that of thewhite charger, who paws there, with arched neck, composedly champing hisbit; as if no world, with its Dynasties and Eras, were now rushing down. The drizzly day tends westward; the cry is still: "To Versailles!" Nay now, borne from afar, come quite sinister cries; hoarse, reverberating in longdrawn hollow murmurs, with syllables too like thoseof Lanterne! Or else, irregular Sansculottism may be marching off, of itself; with pikes, nay with cannon. The inflexible Scipio does atlength, by aide-de-camp, ask of the Municipals: Whether or not he maygo? A Letter is handed out to him, over armed heads; sixty thousandfaces flash fixedly on his, there is stillness and no bosom breathes, till he have read. By Heaven, he grows suddenly pale! Do the Municipalspermit? 'Permit and even order, '--since he can no other. Clangour ofapproval rends the welkin. To your ranks, then; let us march! It is, as we compute, towards three in the afternoon. Indignant NationalGuards may dine for once from their haversack: dined or undined, theymarch with one heart. Paris flings up her windows, claps hands, as theAvengers, with their shrilling drums and shalms tramp by; she will thensit pensive, apprehensive, and pass rather a sleepless night. (DeuxAmis, iii. 165. ) On the white charger, Lafayette, in the slowestpossible manner, going and coming, and eloquently haranguing among theranks, rolls onward with his thirty thousand. Saint-Antoine, with pikeand cannon, has preceded him; a mixed multitude, of all and of no arms, hovers on his flanks and skirts; the country once more pauses agape:Paris marche sur nous. Chapter 1. 7. VI. To Versailles. For, indeed, about this same moment, Maillard has halted his draggledMenads on the last hill-top; and now Versailles, and the Chateau ofVersailles, and far and wide the inheritance of Royalty opens tothe wondering eye. From far on the right, over Marly andSaint-Germains-en-Laye; round towards Rambouillet, on the left:beautiful all; softly embosomed; as if in sadness, in the dim moistweather! And near before us is Versailles, New and Old; with that broadfrondent Avenue de Versailles between, --stately-frondent, broad, threehundred feet as men reckon, with four Rows of Elms; and then the Chateaude Versailles, ending in royal Parks and Pleasances, gleaming lakelets, arbours, Labyrinths, the Menagerie, and Great and Little Trianon. High-towered dwellings, leafy pleasant places; where the gods of thislower world abide: whence, nevertheless, black Care cannot be excluded;whither Menadic Hunger is even now advancing, armed with pike-thyrsi! Yes, yonder, Mesdames, where our straight frondent Avenue, joined, asyou note, by Two frondent brother Avenues from this hand and from that, spreads out into Place Royale and Palace Forecourt; yonder is theSalle des Menus. Yonder an august Assembly sits regenerating France. Forecourt, Grand Court, Court of Marble, Court narrowing into Courtyou may discern next, or fancy: on the extreme verge of whichthat glass-dome, visibly glittering like a star of hope, isthe--Oeil-de-Boeuf! Yonder, or nowhere in the world, is bread baked forus. But, O Mesdames, were not one thing good: That our cannons, withDemoiselle Theroigne and all show of war, be put to the rear? Submissionbeseems petitioners of a National Assembly; we are strangers inVersailles, --whence, too audibly, there comes even now sound asof tocsin and generale! Also to put on, if possible, a cheerfulcountenance, hiding our sorrows; and even to sing? Sorrow, pitied ofthe Heavens, is hateful, suspicious to the Earth. --So counsels shiftyMaillard; haranguing his Menads, on the heights near Versailles. (SeeHist. Parl. Iii. 70-117; Deux Amis, iii. 166-177, &c. ) Cunning Maillard's dispositions are obeyed. The draggledInsurrectionists advance up the Avenue, 'in three columns, among thefour Elm-rows; 'singing Henri Quatre, ' with what melody they can; andshouting Vive le Roi. Versailles, though the Elm-rows are dripping wet, crowds from both sides, with: "Vivent nos Parisiennes, Our Paris onesfor ever!" Prickers, scouts have been out towards Paris, as the rumour deepened:whereby his Majesty, gone to shoot in the Woods of Meudon, has beenhappily discovered, and got home; and the generale and tocsin seta-sounding. The Bodyguards are already drawn up in front of the PalaceGrates; and look down the Avenue de Versailles; sulky, in wet buckskins. Flandre too is there, repentant of the Opera-Repast. Also Dragoonsdismounted are there. Finally Major Lecointre, and what he can gatherof the Versailles National Guard; though, it is to be observed, ourColonel, that same sleepless Count d'Estaing, giving neither ordernor ammunition, has vanished most improperly; one supposes, into theOeil-de-Boeuf. Red-coated Swiss stand within the Grates, under arms. There likewise, in their inner room, 'all the Ministers, ' Saint-Priest, Lamentation Pompignan and the rest, are assembled with M. Necker: theysit with him there; blank, expecting what the hour will bring. President Mounier, though he answered Mirabeau with a tant mieux, andaffected to slight the matter, had his own forebodings. Surely, forthese four weary hours, he has reclined not on roses! The order of theday is getting forward: a Deputation to his Majesty seems proper, thatit might please him to grant 'Acceptance pure and simple' to thoseConstitution-Articles of ours; the 'mixed qualified Acceptance, ' withits peradventures, is satisfactory to neither gods nor men. So much is clear. And yet there is more, which no man speaks, which allmen now vaguely understand. Disquietude, absence of mind is on everyface; Members whisper, uneasily come and go: the order of the day isevidently not the day's want. Till at length, from the outer gates, isheard a rustling and justling, shrill uproar and squabbling, muffled bywalls; which testifies that the hour is come! Rushing and crushing onehears now; then enter Usher Maillard, with a Deputation of Fifteenmuddy dripping Women, --having by incredible industry, and aid of all themacers, persuaded the rest to wait out of doors. National Assembly shallnow, therefore, look its august task directly in the face: regenerativeConstitutionalism has an unregenerate Sansculottism bodily in front ofit; crying, "Bread! Bread!" Shifty Maillard, translating frenzy into articulation; repressive withthe one hand, expostulative with the other, does his best; and really, though not bred to public speaking, manages rather well:--In the presentdreadful rarity of grains, a Deputation of Female Citizens has, as theaugust Assembly can discern, come out from Paris to petition. Plots ofAristocrats are too evident in the matter; for example, one miller hasbeen bribed 'by a banknote of 200 livres' not to grind, --name unknown tothe Usher, but fact provable, at least indubitable. Further, itseems, the National Cockade has been trampled on; also there areBlack Cockades, or were. All which things will not an augustNational Assembly, the hope of France, take into its wise immediateconsideration? And Menadic Hunger, impressible, crying "Black Cockades, " crying "Bread, Bread, " adds, after such fashion: "Will it not?--Yes, Messieurs, if aDeputation to his Majesty, for the 'Acceptance pure and simple, ' seemedproper, --how much more now, for 'the afflicting situation of Paris;'for the calming of this effervescence!" President Mounier, with a speedyDeputation, among whom we notice the respectable figure of DoctorGuillotin, gets himself forthwith on march. Vice-President shallcontinue the order of the day; Usher Maillard shall stay by him torepress the women. It is four o'clock, of the miserablest afternoon, when Mounier steps out. O experienced Mounier, what an afternoon; the last of thy politicalexistence! Better had it been to 'fall suddenly unwell, ' while it wasyet time. For, behold, the Esplanade, over all its spacious expanse, is covered with groups of squalid dripping Women; of lankhaired maleRascality, armed with axes, rusty pikes, old muskets, ironshod clubs(baton ferres, which end in knives or sword-blades, a kind of extemporebillhook);--looking nothing but hungry revolt. The rain pours:Gardes-du-Corps go caracoling through the groups 'amid hisses;'irritating and agitating what is but dispersed here to reunite there. Innumerable squalid women beleaguer the President and Deputation; insiston going with him: has not his Majesty himself, looking from the window, sent out to ask, What we wanted? "Bread and speech with the King(Du pain, et parler au Roi), " that was the answer. Twelve women areclamorously added to the Deputation; and march with it, across theEsplanade; through dissipated groups, caracoling Bodyguards, and thepouring rain. President Mounier, unexpectedly augmented by Twelve Women, copiouslyescorted by Hunger and Rascality, is himself mistaken for a group:himself and his Women are dispersed by caracolers; rally again withdifficulty, among the mud. (Mounier, Expose Justificatif (cited in DeuxAmis, iii. 185). ) Finally the Grates are opened: the Deputation getsaccess, with the Twelve Women too in it; of which latter, Five shalleven see the face of his Majesty. Let wet Menadism, in the best spiritsit can expect their return. Chapter 1. 7. VII. At Versailles. But already Pallas Athene (in the shape of Demoiselle Theroigne) is busywith Flandre and the dismounted Dragoons. She, and such women as arefittest, go through the ranks; speak with an earnest jocosity; clasprough troopers to their patriot bosom, crush down spontoons andmusketoons with soft arms: can a man, that were worthy of the name ofman, attack famishing patriot women? One reads that Theroigne had bags of money, which she distributed overFlandre:--furnished by whom? Alas, with money-bags one seldom sits oninsurrectionary cannon. Calumnious Royalism! Theroigne had only thelimited earnings of her profession of unfortunate-female; money she hadnot, but brown locks, the figure of a heathen Goddess, and an eloquenttongue and heart. Meanwhile, Saint-Antoine, in groups and troops, is continually arriving;wetted, sulky; with pikes and impromptu billhooks: driven thus farby popular fixed-idea. So many hirsute figures driven hither, in thatmanner: figures that have come to do they know not what; figures thathave come to see it done! Distinguished among all figures, who is this, of gaunt stature, with leaden breastplate, though a small one; (SeeWeber, ii. 185-231. ) bushy in red grizzled locks; nay, with longtile-beard? It is Jourdan, unjust dealer in mules; a dealer no longer, but a Painter's Layfigure, playing truant this day. From the necessitiesof Art comes his long tile-beard; whence his leaden breastplate(unless indeed he were some Hawker licensed by leaden badge) may havecome, --will perhaps remain for ever a Historical Problem. Another Saulamong the people we discern: 'Pere Adam, Father Adam, ' as the groupsname him; to us better known as bull-voiced Marquis Saint-Huruge; heroof the Veto; a man that has had losses, and deserved them. The tallMarquis, emitted some days ago from limbo, looks peripatetically on thisscene, from under his umbrella, not without interest. All which personsand things, hurled together as we see; Pallas Athene, busy with Flandre;patriotic Versailles National Guards, short of ammunition, and desertedby d'Estaing their Colonel, and commanded by Lecointre their Major; thencaracoling Bodyguards, sour, dispirited, with their buckskins wet; andfinally this flowing sea of indignant Squalor, --may they not give riseto occurrences? Behold, however, the Twelve She-deputies return from the Chateau. Without President Mounier, indeed; but radiant with joy, shouting "Lifeto the King and his House. " Apparently the news are good, Mesdames? Newsof the best! Five of us were admitted to the internal splendours, to theRoyal Presence. This slim damsel, 'Louison Chabray, worker in sculpture, aged only seventeen, ' as being of the best looks and address, her weappointed speaker. On whom, and indeed on all of us, his Majesty lookednothing but graciousness. Nay, when Louison, addressing him, was like tofaint, he took her in his royal arms; and said gallantly, "It was wellworth while (Elle en valut bien la peine). " Consider, O women, what aKing! His words were of comfort, and that only: there shall be provisionsent to Paris, if provision is in the world; grains shall circulate freeas air; millers shall grind, or do worse, while their millstones endure;and nothing be left wrong which a Restorer of French Liberty can right. Good news these; but, to wet Menads, all too incredible! There seems noproof, then? Words of comfort are words only; which will feed nothing. O miserable people, betrayed by Aristocrats, who corrupt thy verymessengers! In his royal arms, Mademoiselle Louison? In his arms? Thoushameless minx, worthy of a name--that shall be nameless! Yes, thy skinis soft: ours is rough with hardship; and well wetted, waiting here inthe rain. No children hast thou hungry at home; only alabaster dolls, that weep not! The traitress! To the Lanterne!--And so poor LouisonChabray, no asseveration or shrieks availing her, fair slim damsel, late in the arms of Royalty, has a garter round her neck, and furibundAmazons at each end; is about to perish so, --when two Bodyguards gallopup, indignantly dissipating; and rescue her. The miscredited Twelvehasten back to the Chateau, for an 'answer in writing. ' Nay, behold, a new flight of Menads, with 'M. Brunout BastilleVolunteer, ' as impressed-commandant, at the head of it. These also willadvance to the Grate of the Grand Court, and see what is toward. Humanpatience, in wet buckskins, has its limits. Bodyguard Lieutenant, M. DeSavonnieres, for one moment, lets his temper, long provoked, long pent, give way. He not only dissipates these latter Menads; but caracolesand cuts, or indignantly flourishes, at M. Brunout, theimpressed-commandant; and, finding great relief in it, even chases him;Brunout flying nimbly, though in a pirouette manner, and now with swordalso drawn. At which sight of wrath and victory two other Bodyguards(for wrath is contagious, and to pent Bodyguards is so solacing) dolikewise give way; give chase, with brandished sabre, and in the airmake horrid circles. So that poor Brunout has nothing for it butto retreat with accelerated nimbleness, through rank after rank;Parthian-like, fencing as he flies; above all, shouting lustily, "Onnous laisse assassiner, They are getting us assassinated?" Shameful! Three against one! Growls come from the Lecointrian ranks;bellowings, --lastly shots. Savonnieres' arm is raised to strike: thebullet of a Lecointrian musket shatters it; the brandished sabre jinglesdown harmless. Brunout has escaped, this duel well ended: but the wildhowl of war is everywhere beginning to pipe! The Amazons recoil; Saint-Antoine has its cannon pointed (full ofgrapeshot); thrice applies the lit flambeau; which thrice refuses tocatch, --the touchholes are so wetted; and voices cry: "Arretez, il n'estpas temps encore, Stop, it is not yet time!" (Deux Amis, iii. 192-201. )Messieurs of the Garde-du-Corps, ye had orders not to fire; neverthelesstwo of you limp dismounted, and one war-horse lies slain. Were it notwell to draw back out of shot-range; finally to file off, --into theinterior? If in so filing off, there did a musketoon or two dischargeitself, at these armed shopkeepers, hooting and crowing, could manwonder? Draggled are your white cockades of an enormous size; would toHeaven they were got exchanged for tricolor ones! Your buckskins arewet, your hearts heavy. Go, and return not! The Bodyguards file off, as we hint; giving and receiving shots; drawingno life-blood; leaving boundless indignation. Some three times in thethickening dusk, a glimpse of them is seen, at this or the other Portal:saluted always with execrations, with the whew of lead. Let but aBodyguard shew face, he is hunted by Rascality;--for instance, poor 'M. De Moucheton of the Scotch Company, ' owner of the slain war-horse; andhas to be smuggled off by Versailles Captains. Or rusty firelocks belchafter him, shivering asunder his--hat. In the end, by superior Order, the Bodyguards, all but the few on immediate duty, disappear; or as itwere abscond; and march, under cloud of night, to Rambouillet. (Weber, ubi supra. ) We remark also that the Versaillese have now got ammunition: allafternoon, the official Person could find none; till, in these socritical moments, a patriotic Sublieutenant set a pistol to his ear, andwould thank him to find some, --which he thereupon succeeded in doing. Likewise that Flandre, disarmed by Pallas Athene, says openly, itwill not fight with citizens; and for token of peace, has exchangedcartridges with the Versaillese. Sansculottism is now among mere friends; and can 'circulate freely;'indignant at Bodyguards;--complaining also considerably of hunger. Chapter 1. 7. VIII. The Equal Diet. But why lingers Mounier; returns not with his Deputation? It is six, itis seven o'clock; and still no Mounier, no Acceptance pure and simple. And, behold, the dripping Menads, not now in deputation but in mass, have penetrated into the Assembly: to the shamefullest interruptionof public speaking and order of the day. Neither Maillard norVice-President can restrain them, except within wide limits; not even, except for minutes, can the lion-voice of Mirabeau, though they applaudit: but ever and anon they break in upon the regeneration of France withcries of: "Bread; not so much discoursing! Du pain; pas tant de longsdiscours!"--So insensible were these poor creatures to bursts ofParliamentary eloquence! One learns also that the royal Carriages are getting yoked, as if forMetz. Carriages, royal or not, have verily showed themselves at theback Gates. They even produced, or quoted, a written order from ourVersailles Municipality, --which is a Monarchic not a Democratic one. However, Versailles Patroles drove them in again; as the vigilantLecointre had strictly charged them to do. A busy man, truly, is Major Lecointre, in these hours. For Coloneld'Estaing loiters invisible in the Oeil-de-Boeuf; invisible, orstill more questionably visible, for instants: then also a too loyalMunicipality requires supervision: no order, civil or military, takenabout any of these thousand things! Lecointre is at the VersaillesTownhall: he is at the Grate of the Grand Court; communing with Swissand Bodyguards. He is in the ranks of Flandre; he is here, he is there:studious to prevent bloodshed; to prevent the Royal Family from flyingto Metz; the Menads from plundering Versailles. At the fall of night, we behold him advance to those armed groups ofSaint-Antoine, hovering all-too grim near the Salle des Menus. Theyreceive him in a half-circle; twelve speakers behind cannons, withlighted torches in hand, the cannon-mouths towards Lecointre: a picturefor Salvator! He asks, in temperate but courageous language: What they, by this their journey to Versailles, do specially want? The twelvespeakers reply, in few words inclusive of much: "Bread, and the end ofthese brabbles, Du pain, et la fin des affaires. " When the affairs willend, no Major Lecointre, nor no mortal, can say; but as to bread, heinquires, How many are you?--learns that they are six hundred, that aloaf each will suffice; and rides off to the Municipality to get sixhundred loaves. Which loaves, however, a Municipality of Monarchic temper will not give. It will give two tons of rice rather, --could you but know whether itshould be boiled or raw. Nay when this too is accepted, the Municipalshave disappeared;--ducked under, as the Six-and-Twenty Long-gowned ofParis did; and, leaving not the smallest vestage of rice, in the boiledor raw state, they there vanish from History! Rice comes not; one's hope of food is baulked; even one's hope ofvengeance: is not M. De Moucheton of the Scotch Company, as wesaid, deceitfully smuggled off? Failing all which, behold only M. DeMoucheton's slain warhorse, lying on the Esplanade there! Saint-Antoine, baulked, esurient, pounces on the slain warhorse; flays it; roastsit, with such fuel, of paling, gates, portable timber as can be comeat, --not without shouting: and, after the manner of ancient GreekHeroes, they lifted their hands to the daintily readied repast; such asit might be. (Weber, Deux Amis, &c. ) Other Rascality prowls discursive;seeking what it may devour. Flandre will retire to its barracks;Lecointre also with his Versaillese, --all but the vigilant Patrols, charged to be doubly vigilant. So sink the shadows of Night, blustering, rainy; and all paths growdark. Strangest Night ever seen in these regions, --perhaps since theBartholomew Night, when Versailles, as Bassompierre writes of it, was achetif chateau. O for the Lyre of some Orpheus, to constrain, with touchof melodious strings, these mad masses into Order! For here allseems fallen asunder, in wide-yawning dislocation. The highest, asin down-rushing of a World, is come in contact with the lowest: theRascality of France beleaguering the Royalty of France; 'ironshodbatons' lifted round the diadem, not to guard it! With denunciations ofbloodthirsty Anti-national Bodyguards, are heard dark growlings againsta Queenly Name. The Court sits tremulous, powerless; varies with the varying temperof the Esplanade, with the varying colour of the rumours from Paris. Thick-coming rumours; now of peace, now of war. Necker and all theMinisters consult; with a blank issue. The Oeil-de-Boeuf is one tempestof whispers:--We will fly to Metz; we will not fly. The royal Carriagesagain attempt egress;--though for trial merely; they are again driven inby Lecointre's Patrols. In six hours, nothing has been resolved on; noteven the Acceptance pure and simple. In six hours? Alas, he who, in such circumstances, cannot resolve in sixminutes, may give up the enterprise: him Fate has already resolvedfor. And Menadism, meanwhile, and Sansculottism takes counsel with theNational Assembly; grows more and more tumultuous there. Mounier returnsnot; Authority nowhere shews itself: the Authority of France lies, for the present, with Lecointre and Usher Maillard. --This then is theabomination of desolation; come suddenly, though long foreshadowed asinevitable! For, to the blind, all things are sudden. Misery which, through long ages, had no spokesman, no helper, will now be its ownhelper and speak for itself. The dialect, one of the rudest, is, what itcould be, this. At eight o'clock there returns to our Assembly not the Deputation; butDoctor Guillotin announcing that it will return; also that there ishope of the Acceptance pure and simple. He himself has brought a RoyalLetter, authorising and commanding the freest 'circulation of grains. 'Which Royal Letter Menadism with its whole heart applauds. Conformablyto which the Assembly forthwith passes a Decree; also received withrapturous Menadic plaudits:--Only could not an august Assembly contrivefurther to "fix the price of bread at eight sous the half-quartern;butchers'-meat at six sous the pound;" which seem fair rates? Suchmotion do 'a multitude of men and women, ' irrepressible by UsherMaillard, now make; does an august Assembly hear made. Usher Maillardhimself is not always perfectly measured in speech; but if rebuked, he can justly excuse himself by the peculiarity of the circumstances. (Moniteur (in Hist. Parl. Ii. 105). ) But finally, this Decree well passed, and the disorder continuing; andMembers melting away, and no President Mounier returning, --what can theVice-President do but also melt away? The Assembly melts, under suchpressure, into deliquium; or, as it is officially called, adjourns. Maillard is despatched to Paris, with the 'Decree concerning Grains'in his pocket; he and some women, in carriages belonging to the King. Thitherward slim Louison Chabray has already set forth, with that'written answer, ' which the Twelve She-deputies returned in to seek. Slim sylph, she has set forth, through the black muddy country: she hasmuch to tell, her poor nerves so flurried; and travels, as indeed to-dayon this road all persons do, with extreme slowness. President Mounierhas not come, nor the Acceptance pure and simple; though six hours withtheir events have come; though courier on courier reports that Lafayetteis coming. Coming, with war or with peace? It is time that the Chateaualso should determine on one thing or another; that the Chateau alsoshould show itself alive, if it would continue living! Victorious, joyful after such delay, Mounier does arrive at last, andthe hard-earned Acceptance with him; which now, alas, is of small value. Fancy Mounier's surprise to find his Senate, whom he hoped to charm bythe Acceptance pure and simple, --all gone; and in its stead a Senate ofMenads! For as Erasmus's Ape mimicked, say with wooden splint, Erasmusshaving, so do these Amazons hold, in mock majesty, some confusedparody of National Assembly. They make motions; deliver speeches; passenactments; productive at least of loud laughter. All galleries andbenches are filled; a strong Dame of the Market is in Mounier's Chair. Not without difficulty, Mounier, by aid of macers, and persuasivespeaking, makes his way to the Female-President: the Strong Dame beforeabdicating signifies that, for one thing, she and indeed her wholesenate male and female (for what was one roasted warhorse among somany?) are suffering very considerably from hunger. Experienced Mounier, in these circumstances, takes a twofold resolution:To reconvoke his Assembly Members by sound of drum; also to procure asupply of food. Swift messengers fly, to all bakers, cooks, pastrycooks, vintners, restorers; drums beat, accompanied with shrill vocalproclamation, through all streets. They come: the Assembly Members come;what is still better, the provisions come. On tray and barrow come theselatter; loaves, wine, great store of sausages. The nourishing basketscirculate harmoniously along the benches; nor, according to the Fatherof Epics, did any soul lack a fair share of victual ((Greek), an equaldiet); highly desirable, at the moment. (Deux Amis, iii. 208. ) Gradually some hundred or so of Assembly members get edged in, Menadismmaking way a little, round Mounier's Chair; listen to the Acceptancepure and simple; and begin, what is the order of the night, 'discussionof the Penal Code. ' All benches are crowded; in the dusky galleries, duskier with unwashed heads, is a strange 'coruscation, '--of impromptubillhooks. (Courier de Provence (Mirabeau's Newspaper), No. 50, p. 19. ) It is exactly five months this day since these same galleries werefilled with high-plumed jewelled Beauty, raining bright influences; andnow? To such length have we got in regenerating France. Methinks thetravail-throes are of the sharpest!--Menadism will not be restrainedfrom occasional remarks; asks, "What is use of the Penal Code? Thething we want is Bread. " Mirabeau turns round with lion-voiced rebuke;Menadism applauds him; but recommences. Thus they, chewing tough sausages, discussing the Penal Code, make nighthideous. What the issue will be? Lafayette with his thirty thousand mustarrive first: him, who cannot now be distant, all men expect, as themessenger of Destiny. Chapter 1. 7. IX. Lafayette. Towards midnight lights flare on the hill; Lafayette's lights! The rollof his drums comes up the Avenue de Versailles. With peace, or withwar? Patience, friends! With neither. Lafayette is come, but not yet thecatastrophe. He has halted and harangued so often, on the march; spent nine hours onfour leagues of road. At Montreuil, close on Versailles, the whole Hosthad to pause; and, with uplifted right hand, in the murk of Night, tothese pouring skies, swear solemnly to respect the King's Dwelling; tobe faithful to King and National Assembly. Rage is driven down out ofsight, by the laggard march; the thirst of vengeance slaked in wearinessand soaking clothes. Flandre is again drawn out under arms: but Flandre, grown so patriotic, now needs no 'exterminating. ' The wayworn Batallionshalt in the Avenue: they have, for the present, no wish so pressing asthat of shelter and rest. Anxious sits President Mounier; anxious the Chateau. There is a messagecoming from the Chateau, that M. Mounier would please return thitherwith a fresh Deputation, swiftly; and so at least unite our twoanxieties. Anxious Mounier does of himself send, meanwhile, to apprisethe General that his Majesty has been so gracious as to grant us theAcceptance pure and simple. The General, with a small advance column, makes answer in passing; speaks vaguely some smooth words to theNational President, --glances, only with the eye, at that so mixtiformNational Assembly; then fares forward towards the Chateau. There arewith him two Paris Municipals; they were chosen from the Three Hundredfor that errand. He gets admittance through the locked and padlockedGrates, through sentries and ushers, to the Royal Halls. The Court, male and female, crowds on his passage, to read their doomon his face; which exhibits, say Historians, a mixture 'of sorrow, offervour and valour, ' singular to behold. (Memoire de M. Le Comte deLally-Tollendal (Janvier 1790), p. 161-165. ) The King, with Monsieur, with Ministers and Marshals, is waiting to receive him: He "is come, " inhis highflown chivalrous way, "to offer his head for the safety of hisMajesty's. " The two Municipals state the wish of Paris: four things, of quite pacific tenor. First, that the honour of Guarding his sacredperson be conferred on patriot National Guards;--say, the CentreGrenadiers, who as Gardes Francaises were wont to have that privilege. Second, that provisions be got, if possible. Third, that the Prisons, all crowded with political delinquents, may have judges sent them. Fourth, that it would please his Majesty to come and live in Paris. Toall which four wishes, except the fourth, his Majesty answers readily, Yes; or indeed may almost say that he has already answered it. To thefourth he can answer only, Yes or No; would so gladly answer, Yes andNo!--But, in any case, are not their dispositions, thank Heaven, soentirely pacific? There is time for deliberation. The brunt of thedanger seems past! Lafayette and d'Estaing settle the watches; Centre Grenadiers are totake the Guard-room they of old occupied as Gardes Francaises;--forindeed the Gardes du Corps, its late ill-advised occupants, are gonemostly to Rambouillet. That is the order of this night; sufficientfor the night is the evil thereof. Whereupon Lafayette and the twoMunicipals, with highflown chivalry, take their leave. So brief has the interview been, Mounier and his Deputation were not yetgot up. So brief and satisfactory. A stone is rolled from every heart. The fair Palace Dames publicly declare that this Lafayette, detestablethough he be, is their saviour for once. Even the ancient vinaigrousTantes admit it; the King's Aunts, ancient Graille and Sisterhood, knownto us of old. Queen Marie-Antoinette has been heard often say the like. She alone, among all women and all men, wore a face of courage, of loftycalmness and resolve, this day. She alone saw clearly what she meantto do; and Theresa's Daughter dares do what she means, were all Francethreatening her: abide where her children are, where her husband is. Towards three in the morning all things are settled: the watches set, the Centre Grenadiers put into their old Guard-room, and harangued;the Swiss, and few remaining Bodyguards harangued. The wayworn ParisBatallions, consigned to 'the hospitality of Versailles, ' lie dormantin spare-beds, spare-barracks, coffeehouses, empty churches. A troopof them, on their way to the Church of Saint-Louis, awoke poorWeber, dreaming troublous, in the Rue Sartory. Weber has had hiswaistcoat-pocket full of balls all day; 'two hundred balls, and twopears of powder!' For waistcoats were waistcoats then, and had flapsdown to mid-thigh. So many balls he has had all day; but no opportunityof using them: he turns over now, execrating disloyal bandits; swears aprayer or two, and straight to sleep again. Finally, the National Assembly is harangued; which thereupon, on motionof Mirabeau, discontinues the Penal Code, and dismisses for this night. Menadism, Sansculottism has cowered into guard-houses, barracks ofFlandre, to the light of cheerful fire; failing that, to churches, office-houses, sentry-boxes, wheresoever wretchedness can find a lair. The troublous Day has brawled itself to rest: no lives yet lost but thatof one warhorse. Insurrectionary Chaos lies slumbering round the Palace, like Ocean round a Diving-bell, --no crevice yet disclosing itself. Deep sleep has fallen promiscuously on the high and on the low;suspending most things, even wrath and famine. Darkness covers theEarth. But, far on the North-east, Paris flings up her great yellowgleam; far into the wet black Night. For all is illuminated there, asin the old July Nights; the streets deserted, for alarm of war; theMunicipals all wakeful; Patrols hailing, with their hoarse Who-goes. There, as we discover, our poor slim Louison Chabray, her poor nervesall fluttered, is arriving about this very hour. There Usher Maillardwill arrive, about an hour hence, 'towards four in the morning. ' Theyreport, successively, to a wakeful Hotel-de-Ville what comfort they canreport; which again, with early dawn, large comfortable Placards, shallimpart to all men. Lafayette, in the Hotel de Noailles, not far from the Chateau, havingnow finished haranguing, sits with his Officers consulting: at fiveo'clock the unanimous best counsel is, that a man so tost and toiled fortwenty-four hours and more, fling himself on a bed, and seek some rest. Thus, then, has ended the First Act of the Insurrection of Women. How itwill turn on the morrow? The morrow, as always, is with the Fates! Buthis Majesty, one may hope, will consent to come honourably to Paris;at all events, he can visit Paris. Anti-national Bodyguards, here andelsewhere, must take the National Oath; make reparation to the Tricolor;Flandre will swear. There may be much swearing; much public speakingthere will infallibly be: and so, with harangues and vows, may thematter in some handsome way, wind itself up. Or, alas, may it not be all otherwise, unhandsome: the consent nothonourable, but extorted, ignominious? Boundless Chaos of Insurrectionpresses slumbering round the Palace, like Ocean round a Diving-bell; andmay penetrate at any crevice. Let but that accumulated insurrectionarymass find entrance! Like the infinite inburst of water; or sayrather, of inflammable, self-igniting fluid; for example, 'turpentine-and-phosphorus oil, '--fluid known to Spinola Santerre! Chapter 1. 7. X. The Grand Entries. The dull dawn of a new morning, drizzly and chill, had but broken overVersailles, when it pleased Destiny that a Bodyguard should look out ofwindow, on the right wing of the Chateau, to see what prospect there wasin Heaven and in Earth. Rascality male and female is prowling in viewof him. His fasting stomach is, with good cause, sour; he perhaps cannotforbear a passing malison on them; least of all can he forbear answeringsuch. Ill words breed worse: till the worst word came; and then the ill deed. Did the maledicent Bodyguard, getting (as was too inevitable) bettermalediction than he gave, load his musketoon, and threaten to fire;and actually fire? Were wise who wist! It stands asserted; to us notcredibly. Be this as it may, menaced Rascality, in whinnying scorn, isshaking at all Grates: the fastening of one (some write, it was a chainmerely) gives way; Rascality is in the Grand Court, whinnying louderstill. The maledicent Bodyguard, more Bodyguards than he do now give fire; aman's arm is shattered. Lecointre will depose (Deposition de Lecointrein Hist. Parl. Iii. 111-115. ) that 'the Sieur Cardaine, a NationalGuard without arms, was stabbed. ' But see, sure enough, poor Jeromel'Heritier, an unarmed National Guard he too, 'cabinet-maker, asaddler's son, of Paris, ' with the down of youthhood still on hischin, --he reels death-stricken; rushes to the pavement, scattering itwith his blood and brains!--Allelew! Wilder than Irish wakes, rises thehowl: of pity; of infinite revenge. In few moments, the Grate of theinner and inmost Court, which they name Court of Marble, this toois forced, or surprised, and burst open: the Court of Marble too isoverflowed: up the Grand Staircase, up all stairs and entrances rushesthe living Deluge! Deshuttes and Varigny, the two sentry Bodyguards, are trodden down, are massacred with a hundred pikes. Women snatch theircutlasses, or any weapon, and storm-in Menadic:--other women lift thecorpse of shot Jerome; lay it down on the Marble steps; there shall thelivid face and smashed head, dumb for ever, speak. Wo now to all Bodyguards, mercy is none for them! Miomandre deSainte-Marie pleads with soft words, on the Grand Staircase, 'descendingfour steps:'--to the roaring tornado. His comrades snatch him up, by theskirts and belts; literally, from the jaws of Destruction; and slam-totheir Door. This also will stand few instants; the panels shivering in, like potsherds. Barricading serves not: fly fast, ye Bodyguards; rabidInsurrection, like the hellhound Chase, uproaring at your heels! The terrorstruck Bodyguards fly, bolting and barricading; it follows. Whitherward? Through hall on hall: wo, now! towards the Queen's Suiteof Rooms, in the furtherest room of which the Queen is now asleep. Five sentinels rush through that long Suite; they are in the Anteroomknocking loud: "Save the Queen!" Trembling women fall at their feet withtears; are answered: "Yes, we will die; save ye the Queen!" Tremble not, women, but haste: for, lo, another voice shouts far throughthe outermost door, "Save the Queen!" and the door shut. It is braveMiomandre's voice that shouts this second warning. He has stormed acrossimminent death to do it; fronts imminent death, having done it. BraveTardivet du Repaire, bent on the same desperate service, was borne downwith pikes; his comrades hardly snatched him in again alive. Miomandreand Tardivet: let the names of these two Bodyguards, as the names ofbrave men should, live long. Trembling Maids of Honour, one of whom from afar caught glimpse ofMiomandre as well as heard him, hastily wrap the Queen; not in robesof State. She flies for her life, across the Oeil-de-Boeuf; againstthe main door of which too Insurrection batters. She is in the King'sApartment, in the King's arms; she clasps her children amid a faithfulfew. The Imperial-hearted bursts into mother's tears: "O my friends, save me and my children, O mes amis, sauvez moi et mes enfans!"The battering of Insurrectionary axes clangs audible across theOeil-de-Boeuf. What an hour! Yes, Friends: a hideous fearful hour; shameful alike to Governed andGovernor; wherein Governed and Governor ignominiously testify that theirrelation is at an end. Rage, which had brewed itself in twenty thousandhearts, for the last four-and-twenty hours, has taken fire: Jerome'sbrained corpse lies there as live-coal. It is, as we said, the infiniteElement bursting in: wild-surging through all corridors and conduits. Meanwhile, the poor Bodyguards have got hunted mostly into theOeil-de-Boeuf. They may die there, at the King's threshhold; they cando little to defend it. They are heaping tabourets (stools of honour), benches and all moveables, against the door; at which the axe ofInsurrection thunders. --But did brave Miomandre perish, then, at theQueen's door? No, he was fractured, slashed, lacerated, left for dead;he has nevertheless crawled hither; and shall live, honoured of loyalFrance. Remark also, in flat contradiction to much which has been saidand sung, that Insurrection did not burst that door he had defended; buthurried elsewhither, seeking new bodyguards. (Campan, ii. 75-87. ) Poor Bodyguards, with their Thyestes' Opera-Repast! Well for them, thatInsurrection has only pikes and axes; no right sieging tools! It shakesand thunders. Must they all perish miserably, and Royalty with them?Deshuttes and Varigny, massacred at the first inbreak, have beenbeheaded in the Marble Court: a sacrifice to Jerome's manes: Jourdanwith the tile-beard did that duty willingly; and asked, If there wereno more? Another captive they are leading round the corpse, withhowl-chauntings: may not Jourdan again tuck up his sleeves? And louder and louder rages Insurrection within, plundering if it cannotkill; louder and louder it thunders at the Oeil-de-Boeuf: what cannow hinder its bursting in?--On a sudden it ceases; the battering hasceased! Wild rushing: the cries grow fainter: there is silence, or thetramp of regular steps; then a friendly knocking: "We are the CentreGrenadiers, old Gardes Francaises: Open to us, Messieurs of theGarde-du-Corps; we have not forgotten how you saved us at Fontenoy!"(Toulongeon, i. 144. ) The door is opened; enter Captain Gondran andthe Centre Grenadiers: there are military embracings; there is suddendeliverance from death into life. Strange Sons of Adam! It was to 'exterminate' these Gardes-du-Corps thatthe Centre Grenadiers left home: and now they have rushed to save themfrom extermination. The memory of common peril, of old help, meltsthe rough heart; bosom is clasped to bosom, not in war. The King shewshimself, one moment, through the door of his Apartment, with: "Do nothurt my Guards!"--"Soyons freres, Let us be brothers!" cries CaptainGondran; and again dashes off, with levelled bayonets, to sweep thePalace clear. Now too Lafayette, suddenly roused, not from sleep (for his eyes hadnot yet closed), arrives; with passionate popular eloquence, with promptmilitary word of command. National Guards, suddenly roused, by sound oftrumpet and alarm-drum, are all arriving. The death-melly ceases: thefirst sky-lambent blaze of Insurrection is got damped down; it burnsnow, if unextinguished, yet flameless, as charred coals do, and notinextinguishable. The King's Apartments are safe. Ministers, Officials, and even some loyal National deputies are assembling round theirMajesties. The consternation will, with sobs and confusion, settle downgradually, into plan and counsel, better or worse. But glance now, for a moment, from the royal windows! A roaring sea ofhuman heads, inundating both Courts; billowing against all passages:Menadic women; infuriated men, mad with revenge, with love of mischief, love of plunder! Rascality has slipped its muzzle; and now bays, three-throated, like the Dog of Erebus. Fourteen Bodyguards are wounded;two massacred, and as we saw, beheaded; Jourdan asking, "Was it worthwhile to come so far for two?" Hapless Deshuttes and Varigny! Theirfate surely was sad. Whirled down so suddenly to the abyss; as men are, suddenly, by the wide thunder of the Mountain Avalanche, awakened notby them, awakened far off by others! When the Chateau Clock last struck, they two were pacing languid, with poised musketoon; anxious mainlythat the next hour would strike. It has struck; to them inaudible. Theirtrunks lie mangled: their heads parade, 'on pikes twelve feet long, 'through the streets of Versailles; and shall, about noon reach theBarriers of Paris, --a too ghastly contradiction to the large comfortablePlacards that have been posted there! The other captive Bodyguard is still circling the corpse of Jerome, amidIndian war-whooping; bloody Tilebeard, with tucked sleeves, brandishinghis bloody axe; when Gondran and the Grenadiers come in sight. "Comrades, will you see a man massacred in cold blood?"--"Off, butchers!" answer they; and the poor Bodyguard is free. Busy runsGondran, busy run Guards and Captains; scouring at all corridors;dispersing Rascality and Robbery; sweeping the Palace clear. The mangledcarnage is removed; Jerome's body to the Townhall, for inquest: the fireof Insurrection gets damped, more and more, into measurable, manageableheat. Transcendent things of all sorts, as in the general outburst ofmultitudinous Passion, are huddled together; the ludicrous, nay theridiculous, with the horrible. Far over the billowy sea of heads, may beseen Rascality, caprioling on horses from the Royal Stud. The Spoilersthese; for Patriotism is always infected so, with a proportion of merethieves and scoundrels. Gondran snatched their prey from them in theChateau; whereupon they hurried to the Stables, and took horse there. But the generous Diomedes' steeds, according to Weber, disdained suchscoundrel-burden; and, flinging up their royal heels, did soon projectmost of it, in parabolic curves, to a distance, amid peals of laughter:and were caught. Mounted National Guards secured the rest. Now too is witnessed the touching last-flicker of Etiquette; whichsinks not here, in the Cimmerian World-wreckage, without a sign, asthe house-cricket might still chirp in the pealing of a Trump of Doom. "Monsieur, " said some Master of Ceremonies (one hopes it might be deBreze), as Lafayette, in these fearful moments, was rushing towardsthe inner Royal Apartments, "Monsieur, le Roi vous accorde les grandesentrees, Monsieur, the King grants you the Grand Entries, "--not findingit convenient to refuse them! (Toulongeon, 1 App. 120. ) Chapter 1. 7. XI. From Versailles. However, the Paris National Guard, wholly under arms, has clearedthe Palace, and even occupies the nearer external spaces; extrudingmiscellaneous Patriotism, for most part, into the Grand Court, or eveninto the Forecourt. The Bodyguards, you can observe, have now of a verity, 'hoisted theNational Cockade:' for they step forward to the windows or balconies, hat aloft in hand, on each hat a huge tricolor; and fling over theirbandoleers in sign of surrender; and shout Vive la Nation. To whichhow can the generous heart respond but with, Vive le Roi; vivent lesGardes-du-Corps? His Majesty himself has appeared with Lafayette on thebalcony, and again appears: Vive le Roi greets him from all throats; butalso from some one throat is heard "Le Roi a Paris, The King to Paris!" Her Majesty too, on demand, shows herself, though there is peril init: she steps out on the balcony, with her little boy and girl. "Nochildren, Point d'enfans!" cry the voices. She gently pushes back herchildren; and stands alone, her hands serenely crossed on her breast:"should I die, " she had said, "I will do it. " Such serenity of heroismhas its effect. Lafayette, with ready wit, in his highflown chivalrousway, takes that fair queenly hand; and reverently kneeling, kisses it:thereupon the people do shout Vive la Reine. Nevertheless, poor Weber'saw' (or even thought he saw; for hardly the third part of poor Weber'sexperiences, in such hysterical days, will stand scrutiny) 'one of thesebrigands level his musket at her Majesty, '--with or without intention toshoot; for another of the brigands 'angrily struck it down. ' So that all, and the Queen herself, nay the very Captain of theBodyguards, have grown National! The very Captain of the Bodyguardssteps out now with Lafayette. On the hat of the repentant man is anenormous tricolor; large as a soup-platter, or sun-flower; visible tothe utmost Forecourt. He takes the National Oath with a loud voice, elevating his hat; at which sight all the army raise their bonnets ontheir bayonets, with shouts. Sweet is reconcilement to the heart of man. Lafayette has sworn Flandre; he swears the remaining Bodyguards, down inthe Marble Court; the people clasp them in their arms:--O, my brothers, why would ye force us to slay you? Behold there is joy over you, asover returning prodigal sons!--The poor Bodyguards, now National andtricolor, exchange bonnets, exchange arms; there shall be peace andfraternity. And still "Vive le Roi;" and also "Le Roi a Paris, " not nowfrom one throat, but from all throats as one, for it is the heart's wishof all mortals. Yes, The King to Paris: what else? Ministers may consult, and NationalDeputies wag their heads: but there is now no other possibility. Youhave forced him to go willingly. "At one o'clock!" Lafayette givesaudible assurance to that purpose; and universal Insurrection, withimmeasurable shout, and a discharge of all the firearms, clear andrusty, great and small, that it has, returns him acceptance. What asound; heard for leagues: a doom peal!--That sound too rolls away, intothe Silence of Ages. And the Chateau of Versailles stands ever sincevacant, hushed still; its spacious Courts grassgrown, responsive tothe hoe of the weeder. Times and generations roll on, in their confusedGulf-current; and buildings like builders have their destiny. Till one o'clock, then, there will be three parties, National Assembly, National Rascality, National Royalty, all busy enough. Rascalityrejoices; women trim themselves with tricolor. Nay motherly Paris hassent her Avengers sufficient 'cartloads of loaves;' which are shoutedover, which are gratefully consumed. The Avengers, in return, aresearching for grain-stores; loading them in fifty waggons; that so aNational King, probable harbinger of all blessings, may be the evidentbringer of plenty, for one. And thus has Sansculottism made prisoner its King; revoking hisparole. The Monarchy has fallen; and not so much as honourably: no, ignominiously; with struggle, indeed, oft repeated; but then with unwisestruggle; wasting its strength in fits and paroxysms; at every newparoxysm, foiled more pitifully than before. Thus Broglie's whiffof grapeshot, which might have been something, has dwindled to thepot-valour of an Opera Repast, and O Richard, O mon Roi. Which again weshall see dwindle to a Favras' Conspiracy, a thing to be settled by thehanging of one Chevalier. Poor Monarchy! But what save foulest defeat can await that man, whowills, and yet wills not? Apparently the King either has a right, assertible as such to the death, before God and man; or else he has noright. Apparently, the one or the other; could he but know which! MayHeaven pity him! Were Louis wise he would this day abdicate. --Is it notstrange so few Kings abdicate; and none yet heard of has been known tocommit suicide? Fritz the First, of Prussia, alone tried it; and theycut the rope. As for the National Assembly, which decrees this morning that it 'isinseparable from his Majesty, ' and will follow him to Paris, theremay one thing be noted: its extreme want of bodily health. After theFourteenth of July there was a certain sickliness observable amonghonourable Members; so many demanding passports, on account of infirmhealth. But now, for these following days, there is a perfectmurrian: President Mounier, Lally Tollendal, Clermont Tonnere, and allConstitutional Two-Chamber Royalists needing change of air; as mostNo-Chamber Royalists had formerly done. For, in truth, it is the second Emigration this that has now come;most extensive among Commons Deputies, Noblesse, Clergy: so that 'toSwitzerland alone there go sixty thousand. ' They will return in the dayof accounts! Yes, and have hot welcome. --But Emigration on Emigration isthe peculiarity of France. One Emigration follows another; grounded onreasonable fear, unreasonable hope, largely also on childish pet. Thehighflyers have gone first, now the lower flyers; and ever the lowerwill go down to the crawlers. Whereby, however, cannot our NationalAssembly so much the more commodiously make the Constitution; yourTwo-Chamber Anglomaniacs being all safe, distant on foreign shores? AbbeMaury is seized, and sent back again: he, tough as tanned leather, witheloquent Captain Cazales and some others, will stand it out for anotheryear. But here, meanwhile, the question arises: Was Philippe d'Orleans seen, this day, 'in the Bois de Boulogne, in grey surtout;' waiting under thewet sere foliage, what the day might bring forth? Alas, yes, the Eidolonof him was, --in Weber's and other such brains. The Chatelet shall makelarge inquisition into the matter, examining a hundred and seventywitnesses, and Deputy Chabroud publish his Report; but disclose nothingfurther. (Rapport de Chabroud (Moniteur, du 31 December, 1789). ) Whatthen has caused these two unparalleled October Days? For surely suchdramatic exhibition never yet enacted itself without Dramatist andMachinist. Wooden Punch emerges not, with his domestic sorrows, into thelight of day, unless the wire be pulled: how can human mobs? Was it notd'Orleans then, and Laclos, Marquis Sillery, Mirabeau and the sons ofconfusion, hoping to drive the King to Metz, and gather the spoil? Naywas it not, quite contrariwise, the Oeil-de-Boeuf, Bodyguard Colonel deGuiche, Minister Saint-Priest and highflying Loyalists; hoping also todrive him to Metz; and try it by the sword of civil war? Good MarquisToulongeon, the Historian and Deputy, feels constrained to admit that itwas both. (Toulongeon, i. 150. ) Alas, my Friends, credulous incredulity is a strange matter. But when awhole Nation is smitten with Suspicion, and sees a dramatic miraclein the very operation of the gastric juices, what help is there? SuchNation is already a mere hypochondriac bundle of diseases; as good aschanged into glass; atrabiliar, decadent; and will suffer crises. Is notSuspicion itself the one thing to be suspected, as Montaigne feared onlyfear? Now, however, the short hour has struck. His Majesty is in his carriage, with his Queen, sister Elizabeth, and two royal children. Not foranother hour can the infinite Procession get marshalled, and under way. The weather is dim drizzling; the mind confused; and noise great. Processional marches not a few our world has seen; Roman triumphs andovations, Cabiric cymbal-beatings, Royal progresses, Irish funerals:but this of the French Monarchy marching to its bed remained to beseen. Miles long, and of breadth losing itself in vagueness, for allthe neighbouring country crowds to see. Slow; stagnating along, likeshoreless Lake, yet with a noise like Niagara, like Babel and Bedlam. Asplashing and a tramping; a hurrahing, uproaring, musket-volleying;--thetruest segment of Chaos seen in these latter Ages! Till slowly itdisembogue itself, in the thickening dusk, into expectant Paris, througha double row of faces all the way from Passy to the Hotel-de-Ville. Consider this: Vanguard of National troops; with trains of artillery; ofpikemen and pikewomen, mounted on cannons, on carts, hackney-coaches, or on foot;--tripudiating, in tricolor ribbons from head to heel; loavesstuck on the points of bayonets, green boughs stuck in gun barrels. (Mercier, Nouveau Paris, iii. 21. ) Next, as main-march, 'fiftycartloads of corn, ' which have been lent, for peace, from the stores ofVersailles. Behind which follow stragglers of the Garde-du-Corps;all humiliated, in Grenadier bonnets. Close on these comes the RoyalCarriage; come Royal Carriages: for there are an Hundred NationalDeputies too, among whom sits Mirabeau, --his remarks not given. Thenfinally, pellmell, as rearguard, Flandre, Swiss, Hundred Swiss, otherBodyguards, Brigands, whosoever cannot get before. Between and among allwhich masses, flows without limit Saint-Antoine, and the Menadic Cohort. Menadic especially about the Royal Carriage; tripudiating there, coveredwith tricolor; singing 'allusive songs;' pointing with one hand tothe Royal Carriage, which the illusions hit, and pointing to theProvision-wagons, with the other hand, and these words: "Courage, Friends! We shall not want bread now; we are bringing you the Baker, the Bakeress, and Baker's Boy (le Boulanger, la Boulangere, et le petitMitron). " (Toulongeon, i. 134-161; Deux Amis (iii. C. 9); &c. &c. ) The wet day draggles the tricolor, but the joy is unextinguishable. Isnot all well now? "Ah, Madame, notre bonne Reine, " said some of theseStrong-women some days hence, "Ah Madame, our good Queen, don't be atraitor any more (ne soyez plus traitre), and we will all love you!"Poor Weber went splashing along, close by the Royal carriage, with thetear in his eye: 'their Majesties did me the honour, ' or I thought theydid it, 'to testify, from time to time, by shrugging of the shoulders, by looks directed to Heaven, the emotions they felt. ' Thus, like frailcockle, floats the Royal Life-boat, helmless, on black deluges ofRascality. Mercier, in his loose way, estimates the Procession and assistantsat two hundred thousand. He says it was one boundless inarticulateHaha;--transcendent World-Laughter; comparable to the Saturnalia ofthe Ancients. Why not? Here too, as we said, is Human Nature once morehuman; shudder at it whoso is of shuddering humour: yet behold it ishuman. It has 'swallowed all formulas;' it tripudiates even so. Forwhich reason they that collect Vases and Antiques, with figures ofDancing Bacchantes 'in wild and all but impossible positions, ' may lookwith some interest on it. Thus, however, has the slow-moving Chaos or modern Saturnalia of theAncients, reached the Barrier; and must halt, to be harangued by MayorBailly. Thereafter it has to lumber along, between the double rowof faces, in the transcendent heaven-lashing Haha; two hours longer, towards the Hotel-de-Ville. Then again to be harangued there, byseveral persons; by Moreau de Saint-Mery, among others; Moreau of theThree-thousand orders, now National Deputy for St. Domingo. To all whichpoor Louis, who seemed to 'experience a slight emotion' on entering thisTownhall, can answer only that he "comes with pleasure, with confidenceamong his people. " Mayor Bailly, in reporting it, forgets 'confidence;'and the poor Queen says eagerly: "Add, with confidence. "--"Messieurs, "rejoins Bailly, "You are happier than if I had not forgot. " Finally, the King is shewn on an upper balcony, by torchlight, with ahuge tricolor in his hat: 'And all the "people, " says Weber, grasped oneanother's hands;--thinking now surely the New Era was born. ' Hardly tilleleven at night can Royalty get to its vacant, long-deserted Palace ofthe Tuileries: to lodge there, somewhat in strolling-player fashion. Itis Tuesday, the sixth of October, 1789. Poor Louis has Two other Paris Processions to make: oneludicrous-ignominious like this; the other not ludicrous norignominious, but serious, nay sublime. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. VOLUME II. THE CONSTITUTION BOOK 2. I. THE FEAST OF PIKES Chapter 2. 1. I. In the Tuileries. The victim having once got his stroke-of-grace, the catastrophe can beconsidered as almost come. There is small interest now in watching hislong low moans: notable only are his sharper agonies, what convulsivestruggles he may take to cast the torture off from him; and then finallythe last departure of life itself, and how he lies extinct and ended, either wrapt like Caesar in decorous mantle-folds, or unseemly sunktogether, like one that had not the force even to die. Was French Royalty, when wrenched forth from its tapestries in thatfashion, on that Sixth of October 1789, such a victim? Universal France, and Royal Proclamation to all the Provinces, answers anxiously, No;nevertheless one may fear the worst. Royalty was beforehand so decrepit, moribund, there is little life in it to heal an injury. How much ofits strength, which was of the imagination merely, has fled; Rascalityhaving looked plainly in the King's face, and not died! When theassembled crows can pluck up their scarecrow, and say to it, Here shaltthou stand and not there; and can treat with it, and make it, from aninfinite, a quite finite Constitutional scarecrow, --what is to be lookedfor? Not in the finite Constitutional scarecrow, but in what stillunmeasured, infinite-seeming force may rally round it, is therethenceforth any hope. For it is most true that all available Authorityis mystic in its conditions, and comes 'by the grace of God. ' Cheerfuller than watching the death-struggles of Royalism will it be towatch the growth and gambollings of Sansculottism; for, in human things, especially in human society, all death is but a death-birth: thus if thesceptre is departing from Louis, it is only that, in other forms, othersceptres, were it even pike-sceptres, may bear sway. In a prurientelement, rich with nutritive influences, we shall find thatSansculottism grows lustily, and even frisks in not ungraceful sport:as indeed most young creatures are sportful; nay, may it not be notedfurther, that as the grown cat, and cat-species generally, is thecruellest thing known, so the merriest is precisely the kitten, orgrowing cat? But fancy the Royal Family risen from its truckle-beds on the morrowof that mad day: fancy the Municipal inquiry, "How would your Majestyplease to lodge?"--and then that the King's rough answer, "Each maylodge as he can, I am well enough, " is congeed and bowed away, inexpressive grins, by the Townhall Functionaries, with obsequiousupholsterers at their back; and how the Chateau of the Tuileries isrepainted, regarnished into a golden Royal Residence; and Lafayette withhis blue National Guards lies encompassing it, as blue Neptune (in thelanguage of poets) does an island, wooingly. Thither may the wrecksof rehabilitated Loyalty gather; if it will become Constitutional; forConstitutionalism thinks no evil; Sansculottism itself rejoices in theKing's countenance. The rubbish of a Menadic Insurrection, as in thisever-kindly world all rubbish can and must be, is swept aside; and soagain, on clear arena, under new conditions, with something even of anew stateliness, we begin a new course of action. Arthur Young has witnessed the strangest scene: Majesty walkingunattended in the Tuileries Gardens; and miscellaneous tricolor crowds, who cheer it, and reverently make way for it: the very Queen commands atlowest respectful silence, regretful avoidance. (Arthur Young's Travels, i. 264-280. ) Simple ducks, in those royal waters, quackle for crumbsfrom young royal fingers: the little Dauphin has a little railed garden, where he is seen delving, with ruddy cheeks and flaxen curled hair; alsoa little hutch to put his tools in, and screen himself against showers. What peaceable simplicity! Is it peace of a Father restored to hischildren? Or of a Taskmaster who has lost his whip? Lafayette and theMunicipality and universal Constitutionalism assert the former, and dowhat is in them to realise it. Such Patriotism as snarls dangerously, and shows teeth, Patrollotism shall suppress; or far better, Royaltyshall soothe down the angry hair of it, by gentle pattings; and, mosteffectual of all, by fuller diet. Yes, not only shall Paris be fed, butthe King's hand be seen in that work. The household goods of the Poorshall, up to a certain amount, by royal bounty, be disengaged from pawn, and that insatiable Mont de Piete disgorge: rides in the city with theirvive-le-roi need not fail; and so by substance and show, shall Royalty, if man's art can popularise it, be popularised. (Deux Amis, iii. C. 10. ) Or, alas, is it neither restored Father nor diswhipped Taskmaster thatwalks there; but an anomalous complex of both these, and of innumerableother heterogeneities; reducible to no rubric, if not to this newlydevised one: King Louis Restorer of French Liberty? Man indeed, andKing Louis like other men, lives in this world to make rule out of theruleless; by his living energy, he shall force the absurd itself tobecome less absurd. But then if there be no living energy; livingpassivity only? King Serpent, hurled into his unexpected waterydominion, did at least bite, and assert credibly that he was there: butas for the poor King Log, tumbled hither and thither as thousandfoldchance and other will than his might direct, how happy for him thathe was indeed wooden; and, doing nothing, could also see and suffernothing! It is a distracted business. For his French Majesty, meanwhile, one of the worst things is thathe can get no hunting. Alas, no hunting henceforth; only a fatalbeing-hunted! Scarcely, in the next June weeks, shall he taste again thejoys of the game-destroyer; in next June, and never more. He sends forhis smith-tools; gives, in the course of the day, official or ceremonialbusiness being ended, 'a few strokes of the file, quelques coups delime. (Le Chateau des Tuileries, ou recit, &c. , par Roussel (in Hist. Parl. Iv. 195-219). ) Innocent brother mortal, why wert thou not anobscure substantial maker of locks; but doomed in that other far-seencraft, to be a maker only of world-follies, unrealities; things selfdestructive, which no mortal hammering could rivet into coherence! Poor Louis is not without insight, nor even without the elements ofwill; some sharpness of temper, spurting at times from a stagnatingcharacter. If harmless inertness could save him, it were well; but hewill slumber and painfully dream, and to do aught is not given him. Royalist Antiquarians still shew the rooms where Majesty and suite, in these extraordinary circumstances, had their lodging. Here sat theQueen; reading, --for she had her library brought hither, though theKing refused his; taking vehement counsel of the vehement uncounselled;sorrowing over altered times; yet with sure hope of better: in her youngrosy Boy, has she not the living emblem of hope! It is a murky, workingsky; yet with golden gleams--of dawn, or of deeper meteoric night? Hereagain this chamber, on the other side of the main entrance, was theKing's: here his Majesty breakfasted, and did official work; heredaily after breakfast he received the Queen; sometimes in patheticfriendliness; sometimes in human sulkiness, for flesh is weak; and, whenquestioned about business would answer: "Madame, your business is withthe children. " Nay, Sire, were it not better you, your Majesty's self, took the children? So asks impartial History; scornful that the thickervessel was not also the stronger; pity-struck for the porcelain-clay ofhumanity rather than for the tile-clay, --though indeed both were broken! So, however, in this Medicean Tuileries, shall the French King and Queennow sit, for one-and-forty months; and see a wild-fermenting Francework out its own destiny, and theirs. Months bleak, ungenial, of rapidvicissitude; yet with a mild pale splendour, here and there: as of anApril that were leading to leafiest Summer; as of an October that ledonly to everlasting Frost. Medicean Tuileries, how changed since it wasa peaceful Tile field! Or is the ground itself fate-stricken, accursed:an Atreus' Palace; for that Louvre window is still nigh, out of which aCapet, whipt of the Furies, fired his signal of the Saint Bartholomew!Dark is the way of the Eternal as mirrored in this world of Time: God'sway is in the sea, and His path in the great deep. Chapter 2. 1. II. In the Salle de Manege. To believing Patriots, however, it is now clear, that the Constitutionwill march, marcher, --had it once legs to stand on. Quick, then, yePatriots, bestir yourselves, and make it; shape legs for it! In theArcheveche, or Archbishop's Palace, his Grace himself having fled; andafterwards in the Riding-hall, named Manege, close on the Tuileries:there does a National Assembly apply itself to the miraculous work. Successfully, had there been any heaven-scaling Prometheus among them;not successfully since there was none! There, in noisy debate, for thesessions are occasionally 'scandalous, ' and as many as three speakershave been seen in the Tribune at once, --let us continue to fancy itwearing the slow months. Tough, dogmatic, long of wind is Abbe Maury; Ciceronian pathetic isCazales. Keen-trenchant, on the other side, glitters a young Barnave;abhorrent of sophistry; sheering, like keen Damascus sabre, allsophistry asunder, --reckless what else he sheer with it. Simple seemestthou, O solid Dutch-built Petion; if solid, surely dull. Nor lifegivingin that tone of thine, livelier polemical Rabaut. With ineffableserenity sniffs great Sieyes, aloft, alone; his Constitution ye maybabble over, ye may mar, but can by no possibility mend: is not Polity ascience he has exhausted? Cool, slow, two military Lameths are visible, with their quality sneer, or demi-sneer; they shall gallantly refundtheir Mother's Pension, when the Red Book is produced; gallantly bewounded in duels. A Marquis Toulongeon, whose Pen we yet thank, sitsthere; in stoical meditative humour, oftenest silent, accepts whatdestiny will send. Thouret and Parlementary Duport produce mountains ofReformed Law; liberal, Anglomaniac, available and unavailable. Mortals rise and fall. Shall goose Gobel, for example, --or Go(with anumlaut)bel, for he is of Strasburg German breed, be a ConstitutionalArchbishop? Alone of all men there, Mirabeau may begin to discern clearly whitherall this is tending. Patriotism, accordingly, regrets that his zealseems to be getting cool. In that famed Pentecost-Night of the Fourthof August, when new Faith rose suddenly into miraculous fire, and oldFeudality was burnt up, men remarked that Mirabeau took no hand in it;that, in fact, he luckily happened to be absent. But did he not defendthe Veto, nay Veto Absolu; and tell vehement Barnave that six hundredirresponsible senators would make of all tyrannies the insupportablest?Again, how anxious was he that the King's Ministers should have seat andvoice in the National Assembly;--doubtless with an eye to beingMinister himself! Whereupon the National Assembly decides, what is verymomentous, that no Deputy shall be Minister; he, in his haughty stormfulmanner, advising us to make it, 'no Deputy called Mirabeau. ' (Moniteur, Nos. 65, 86 (29th September, 7th November, 1789). ) A man of perhapsinveterate Feudalisms; of stratagems; too often visible leanings towardsthe Royalist side: a man suspect; whom Patriotism will unmask! Thus, inthese June days, when the question Who shall have right to declare war?comes on, you hear hoarse Hawkers sound dolefully through the streets, "Grand Treason of Count Mirabeau, price only one sou;"--because hepleads that it shall be not the Assembly but the King! Pleads; nayprevails: for in spite of the hoarse Hawkers, and an endless Populaceraised by them to the pitch even of 'Lanterne, ' he mounts the Tribunenext day; grim-resolute; murmuring aside to his friends that speak ofdanger: "I know it: I must come hence either in triumph, or else torn infragments;" and it was in triumph that he came. A man of stout heart; whose popularity is not of the populace, 'paspopulaciere;' whom no clamour of unwashed mobs without doors, or ofwashed mobs within, can scarce from his way! Dumont remembers hearinghim deliver a Report on Marseilles; 'every word was interrupted on thepart of the Cote Droit by abusive epithets; calumniator, liar, assassin, scoundrel (scelerat): Mirabeau pauses a moment, and, in a honeyedtone, addressing the most furious, says: "I wait, Messieurs, till theseamenities be exhausted. "' (Dumont, Souvenirs, p. 278. ) A man enigmatic, difficult to unmask! For example, whence comes his money? Can the profitof a Newspaper, sorely eaten into by Dame Le Jay; can this, and theeighteen francs a-day your National Deputy has, be supposed equalto this expenditure? House in the Chaussee d'Antin; Country-house atArgenteuil; splendours, sumptuosities, orgies;--living as if he had amint! All saloons barred against Adventurer Mirabeau, are flung wideopen to King Mirabeau, the cynosure of Europe, whom female Franceflutters to behold, --though the Man Mirabeau is one and the same. As formoney, one may conjecture that Royalism furnishes it; which if Royalismdo, will not the same be welcome, as money always is to him? 'Sold, ' whatever Patriotism thinks, he cannot readily be: the spiritualfire which is in that man; which shining through such confusions isnevertheless Conviction, and makes him strong, and without which hehad no strength, --is not buyable nor saleable; in such transference ofbarter, it would vanish and not be. Perhaps 'paid and not sold, paye pasvendu:' as poor Rivarol, in the unhappier converse way, calls himself'sold and not paid!' A man travelling, comet-like, in splendour andnebulosity, his wild way; whom telescopic Patriotism may long watch, but, without higher mathematics, will not make out. A questionablemost blameable man; yet to us the far notablest of all. With richmunificence, as we often say, in a most blinkard, bespectacled, logic-chopping generation, Nature has gifted this man with an eye. Welcome is his word, there where he speaks and works; and growingever welcomer; for it alone goes to the heart of the business: logicalcobwebbery shrinks itself together; and thou seest a thing, how it is, how is may be worked with. Unhappily our National Assembly has much to do: a France to regenerate;and France is short of so many requisites; short even of cash! Thesesame Finances give trouble enough; no choking of the Deficit; whichgapes ever, Give, give! To appease the Deficit we venture on a hazardousstep, sale of the Clergy's Lands and superfluous Edifices; mosthazardous. Nay, given the sale, who is to buy them, ready-moneyhaving fled? Wherefore, on the 19th day of December, a paper-money of'Assignats, ' of Bonds secured, or assigned, on that Clerico-NationalProperty, and unquestionable at least in payment of that, --is decreed:the first of a long series of like financial performances, which shallastonish mankind. So that now, while old rags last, there shall be nolack of circulating medium; whether of commodities to circulate thereonis another question. But, after all, does not this Assignat businessspeak volumes for modern science? Bankruptcy, we may say, was come, asthe end of all Delusions needs must come: yet how gently, in softeningdiffusion, in mild succession, was it hereby made to fall;--like noall-destroying avalanche; like gentle showers of a powdery impalpablesnow, shower after shower, till all was indeed buried, and yet littlewas destroyed that could not be replaced, be dispensed with! To suchlength has modern machinery reached. Bankruptcy, we said, was great; butindeed Money itself is a standing miracle. On the whole, it is a matter of endless difficulty, that of the Clergy. Clerical property may be made the Nation's, and the Clergy hiredservants of the State; but if so, is it not an altered Church?Adjustment enough, of the most confused sort, has become unavoidable. Old landmarks, in any sense, avail not in a new France. Nay literally, the very Ground is new divided; your old party-coloured Provinces becomenew uniform Departments, Eighty-three in number;--whereby, as in somesudden shifting of the Earth's axis, no mortal knows his new latitude atonce. The Twelve old Parlements too, what is to be done with them? Theold Parlements are declared to be all 'in permanent vacation, '--tillonce the new equal-justice, of Departmental Courts, NationalAppeal-Court, of elective Justices, Justices of Peace, and otherThouret-and-Duport apparatus be got ready. They have to sit there, theseold Parlements, uneasily waiting; as it were, with the rope round theirneck; crying as they can, Is there none to deliver us? But happily theanswer being, None, none, they are a manageable class, these Parlements. They can be bullied, even into silence; the Paris Parliament, wiserthan most, has never whimpered. They will and must sit there; in suchvacation as is fit; their Chamber of Vacation distributes in the interimwhat little justice is going. With the rope round their neck, theirdestiny may be succinct! On the 13th of November 1790, Mayor Baillyshall walk to the Palais de Justice, few even heeding him; and withmunicipal seal-stamp and a little hot wax, seal up the ParlementaryPaper-rooms, --and the dread Parlement of Paris pass away, into Chaos, gently as does a Dream! So shall the Parlements perish, succinctly; andinnumerable eyes be dry. Not so the Clergy. For granting even that Religion were dead; that ithad died, half-centuries ago, with unutterable Dubois; or emigratedlately, to Alsace, with Necklace-Cardinal Rohan; or that it now walkedas goblin revenant with Bishop Talleyrand of Autun; yet does not theShadow of Religion, the Cant of Religion, still linger? The Clergy havemeans and material: means, of number, organization, social weight; amaterial, at lowest, of public ignorance, known to be the mother ofdevotion. Nay, withal, is it incredible that there might, in simplehearts, latent here and there like gold grains in the mud-beach, stilldwell some real Faith in God, of so singular and tenacious a sort thateven a Maury or a Talleyrand, could still be the symbol for it?--Enough, and Clergy has strength, the Clergy has craft and indignation. It is amost fatal business this of the Clergy. A weltering hydra-coil, whichthe National Assembly has stirred up about its ears; hissing, stinging;which cannot be appeased, alive; which cannot be trampled dead! Fatal, from first to last! Scarcely after fifteen months' debating, can a CivilConstitution of the Clergy be so much as got to paper; and then forgetting it into reality? Alas, such Civil Constitution is but anagreement to disagree. It divides France from end to end, with a newsplit, infinitely complicating all the other splits;--Catholicism, whatof it there is left, with the Cant of Catholicism, raging on the oneside, and sceptic Heathenism on the other; both, by contradiction, waxing fanatic. What endless jarring, of Refractory hated Priests, andConstitutional despised ones; of tender consciences, like the King's, and consciences hot-seared, like certain of his People's: the wholeto end in Feasts of Reason and a War of La Vendee! So deep-seated isReligion in the heart of man, and holds of all infinite passions. If thedead echo of it still did so much, what could not the living voice of itonce do? Finance and Constitution, Law and Gospel: this surely were work enough;yet this is not all. In fact, the Ministry, and Necker himself whoma brass inscription 'fastened by the people over his door-lintel'testifies to be the 'Ministre adore, ' are dwindling into clearer andclearer nullity. Execution or legislation, arrangement or detail, fromtheir nerveless fingers all drops undone; all lights at last on thetoiled shoulders of an august Representative Body. Heavy-ladenNational Assembly! It has to hear of innumerable fresh revolts, Brigandexpeditions; of Chateaus in the West, especially of Charter-chests, Chartiers, set on fire; for there too the overloaded Ass frightfullyrecalcitrates. Of Cities in the South full of heats and jealousies;which will end in crossed sabres, Marseilles against Toulon, andCarpentras beleaguered by Avignon;--such Royalist collision in a careerof Freedom; nay Patriot collision, which a mere difference of velocitywill bring about! Of a Jourdan Coup-tete, who has skulkedthitherward, from the claws of the Chatelet; and will raise wholescoundrel-regiments. Also it has to hear of Royalist Camp of Jales: Jales mountain-girdledPlain, amid the rocks of the Cevennes; whence Royalism, as is fearedand hoped, may dash down like a mountain deluge, and submerge France!A singular thing this camp of Jales; existing mostly on paper. For theSoldiers at Jales, being peasants or National Guards, were in heartsworn Sansculottes; and all that the Royalist Captains could do was, with false words, to keep them, or rather keep the report of them, drawnup there, visible to all imaginations, for a terror and a sign, --ifperadventure France might be reconquered by theatrical machinery, by thepicture of a Royalist Army done to the life! (Dampmartin, Evenemens, i. 208. ) Not till the third summer was this portent, burning out by fitsand then fading, got finally extinguished; was the old Castle of Jales, no Camp being visible to the bodily eye, got blown asunder by someNational Guards. Also it has to hear not only of Brissot and his Friends of the Blacks, but by and by of a whole St. Domingo blazing skyward; blazing in literalfire, and in far worse metaphorical; beaconing the nightly main. Alsoof the shipping interest, and the landed-interest, and all mannerof interests, reduced to distress. Of Industry every where manacled, bewildered; and only Rebellion thriving. Of sub-officers, soldiers andsailors in mutiny by land and water. Of soldiers, at Nanci, as we shallsee, needing to be cannonaded by a brave Bouille. Of sailors, nay thevery galley-slaves, at Brest, needing also to be cannonaded; but with noBouille to do it. For indeed, to say it in a word, in those days therewas no King in Israel, and every man did that which was right in his owneyes. (See Deux Amis, iii. C. 14; iv. C. 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 14. Expeditiondes Volontaires de Brest sur Lannion; Les Lyonnais Sauveurs desDauphinois; Massacre au Mans; Troubles du Maine (Pamphlets and Excerpts, in Hist. Parl. Iii. 251; iv. 162-168), &c. ) Such things has an august National Assembly to hear of, as it goeson regenerating France. Sad and stern: but what remedy? Get theConstitution ready; and all men will swear to it: for do not 'Addressesof adhesion' arrive by the cartload? In this manner, by Heaven'sblessing, and a Constitution got ready, shall the bottomless fire-gulfbe vaulted in, with rag-paper; and Order will wed Freedom, and live withher there, --till it grow too hot for them. O Cote Gauche, worthy areye, as the adhesive Addresses generally say, to 'fix the regards of theUniverse;' the regards of this one poor Planet, at lowest!-- Nay, it must be owned, the Cote Droit makes a still madder figure. An irrational generation; irrational, imbecile, and with the vehementobstinacy characteristic of that; a generation which will not learn. Falling Bastilles, Insurrections of Women, thousands of smokingManorhouses, a country bristling with no crop but that of Sansculotticsteel: these were tolerably didactic lessons; but them they have nottaught. There are still men, of whom it was of old written, Bray them ina mortar! Or, in milder language, They have wedded their delusions: firenor steel, nor any sharpness of Experience, shall sever the bond; tilldeath do us part! Of such may the Heavens have mercy; for the Earth, with her rigorous Necessity, will have none. Admit, at the same time, that it was most natural. Man lives byHope: Pandora when her box of gods'-gifts flew all out, and becamegods'-curses, still retained Hope. How shall an irrational mortal, when his high-place is never so evidently pulled down, and he, beingirrational, is left resourceless, --part with the belief that it will berebuilt? It would make all so straight again; it seems so unspeakablydesirable; so reasonable, --would you but look at it aright! For, must not the thing which was continue to be; or else the solid Worlddissolve? Yes, persist, O infatuated Sansculottes of France! Revoltagainst constituted Authorities; hunt out your rightful Seigneurs, who at bottom so loved you, and readily shed their blood for you, --incountry's battles as at Rossbach and elsewhere; and, even in preservinggame, were preserving you, could ye but have understood it: huntthem out, as if they were wild wolves; set fire to their Chateaus andChartiers as to wolf-dens; and what then? Why, then turn every man hishand against his fellow! In confusion, famine, desolation, regretthe days that are gone; rueful recall them, recall us with them. Torepentant prayers we will not be deaf. So, with dimmer or clearer consciousness, must the Right Side reasonand act. An inevitable position perhaps; but a most false one for them. Evil, be thou our good: this henceforth must virtually be their prayer. The fiercer the effervescence grows, the sooner will it pass; for afterall it is but some mad effervescence; the World is solid, and cannotdissolve. For the rest, if they have any positive industry, it is that of plots, and backstairs conclaves. Plots which cannot be executed; which aremostly theoretic on their part;--for which nevertheless this and theother practical Sieur Augeard, Sieur Maillebois, Sieur Bonne Savardin, gets into trouble, gets imprisoned, and escapes with difficulty. Naythere is a poor practical Chevalier Favras who, not without some passingreflex on Monsieur himself, gets hanged for them, amid loud uproarof the world. Poor Favras, he keeps dictating his last will at the'Hotel-de-Ville, through the whole remainder of the day, ' a wearyFebruary day; offers to reveal secrets, if they will save him;handsomely declines since they will not; then dies, in the flare oftorchlight, with politest composure; remarking, rather than exclaiming, with outspread hands: "People, I die innocent; pray for me. " (See DeuxAmis, iv. C. 14, 7; Hist. Parl. Vi. 384. ) Poor Favras;--type of so muchthat has prowled indefatigable over France, in days now ending; and, infreer field, might have earned instead of prowling, --to thee it is notheory! In the Senate-house again, the attitude of the Right Side is that ofcalm unbelief. Let an august National Assembly make a Fourth-of-AugustAbolition of Feudality; declare the Clergy State-servants who shallhave wages; vote Suspensive Vetos, new Law-Courts; vote or decree whatcontested thing it will; have it responded to from the four cornersof France, nay get King's Sanction, and what other Acceptance wereconceivable, --the Right Side, as we find, persists, with imperturbablesttenacity, in considering, and ever and anon shews that it stillconsiders, all these so-called Decrees as mere temporary whims, whichindeed stand on paper, but in practice and fact are not, and cannot be. Figure the brass head of an Abbe Maury flooding forth Jesuitic eloquencein this strain; dusky d'Espremenil, Barrel Mirabeau (probably inliquor), and enough of others, cheering him from the Right; and, forexample, with what visage a seagreen Robespierre eyes him from the Left. And how Sieyes ineffably sniffs on him, or does not deign to sniff;and how the Galleries groan in spirit, or bark rabid on him: so that toescape the Lanterne, on stepping forth, he needs presence of mind, and apair of pistols in his girdle! For he is one of the toughest of men. Here indeed becomes notable one great difference between our two kindsof civil war; between the modern lingual or Parliamentary-logical kind, and the ancient, or manual kind, in the steel battle-field;--much to thedisadvantage of the former. In the manual kind, where you front your foewith drawn weapon, one right stroke is final; for, physically speaking, when the brains are out the man does honestly die, and trouble you nomore. But how different when it is with arguments you fight! Here novictory yet definable can be considered as final. Beat him down, withParliamentary invective, till sense be fled; cut him in two, hangingone half in this dilemma-horn, the other on that; blow the brainsor thinking-faculty quite out of him for the time: it skills not; herallies and revives on the morrow; to-morrow he repairs his goldenfires! The think that will logically extinguish him is perhaps still adesideratum in Constitutional civilisation. For how, till a man know, in some measure, at what point he becomes logically defunct, canParliamentary Business be carried on, and Talk cease or slake? Doubtless it was some feeling of this difficulty; and the clear insighthow little such knowledge yet existed in the French Nation, new in theConstitutional career, and how defunct Aristocrats would continue towalk for unlimited periods, as Partridge the Alamanack-maker did, --thathad sunk into the deep mind of People's-friend Marat, an eminentlypractical mind; and had grown there, in that richest putrescent soil, into the most original plan of action ever submitted to a People. Notyet has it grown; but it has germinated, it is growing; rooting itselfinto Tartarus, branching towards Heaven: the second season hence, weshall see it risen out of the bottomless Darkness, full-grown, intodisastrous Twilight, --a Hemlock-tree, great as the world; on or underwhose boughs all the People's-friends of the world may lodge. 'Twohundred and sixty thousand Aristocrat heads:' that is the precisestcalculation, though one would not stand on a few hundreds; yet we neverrise as high as the round three hundred thousand. Shudder at it, O People; but it is as true as that ye yourselves, and yourPeople's-friend, are alive. These prating Senators of yours hoverineffectual on the barren letter, and will never save the Revolution. ACassandra-Marat cannot do it, with his single shrunk arm; but with a fewdetermined men it were possible. "Give me, " said the People's-friend, inhis cold way, when young Barbaroux, once his pupil in a course of whatwas called Optics, went to see him, "Give me two hundred Naples Bravoes, armed each with a good dirk, and a muff on his left arm by wayof shield: with them I will traverse France, and accomplish theRevolution. " (Memoires de Barbaroux (Paris, 1822), p. 57. ) Nay, bebrave, young Barbaroux; for thou seest, there is no jesting in thoserheumy eyes; in that soot-bleared figure, most earnest of createdthings; neither indeed is there madness, of the strait-waistcoat sort. Such produce shall the Time ripen in cavernous Marat, the man forbid;living in Paris cellars, lone as fanatic Anchorite in his Thebaid;say, as far-seen Simon on his Pillar, --taking peculiar views therefrom. Patriots may smile; and, using him as bandog now to be muzzled, now tobe let bark, name him, as Desmoulins does, 'Maximum of Patriotism' and'Cassandra-Marat:' but were it not singular if this dirk-and-muff planof his (with superficial modifications) proved to be precisely the planadopted? After this manner, in these circumstances, do august Senators regenerateFrance. Nay, they are, in very deed, believed to be regenerating it; onaccount of which great fact, main fact of their history, the wearied eyecan never be permitted wholly to ignore them. But looking away now from these precincts of the Tuileries, whereConstitutional Royalty, let Lafayette water it as he will, languishestoo like a cut branch; and august Senators are perhaps at bottom onlyperfecting their 'theory of defective verbs, '--how does the youngReality, young Sansculottism thrive? The attentive observer can answer:It thrives bravely; putting forth new buds; expanding the old buds intoleaves, into boughs. Is not French Existence, as before, most prurient, all loosened, most nutrient for it? Sansculottism has the propertyof growing by what other things die of: by agitation, contention, disarrangement; nay in a word, by what is the symbol and fruit of allthese: Hunger. In such a France as this, Hunger, as we have remarked, can hardly fail. The Provinces, the Southern Cities feel it in their turn; and what itbrings: Exasperation, preternatural Suspicion. In Paris some halcyondays of abundance followed the Menadic Insurrection, with its Versaillesgrain-carts, and recovered Restorer of Liberty; but they could notcontinue. The month is still October when famishing Saint-Antoine, in amoment of passion, seizes a poor Baker, innocent 'Francois theBaker;' (21st October, 1789 (Moniteur, No. 76). ) and hangs him, inConstantinople wise;--but even this, singular as it my seem, does notcheapen bread! Too clear it is, no Royal bounty, no Municipal dexteritycan adequately feed a Bastille-destroying Paris. Wherefore, on view ofthe hanged Baker, Constitutionalism in sorrow and anger demands 'LoiMartiale, ' a kind of Riot Act;--and indeed gets it, most readily, almostbefore the sun goes down. This is that famed Martial law, with its Red Flag, its 'Drapeau Rouge:'in virtue of which Mayor Bailly, or any Mayor, has but henceforth tohang out that new Oriflamme of his; then to read or mumble somethingabout the King's peace; and, after certain pauses, serve anyundispersing Assemblage with musket-shot, or whatever shot will disperseit. A decisive Law; and most just on one proviso: that all Patrollotismbe of God, and all mob-assembling be of the Devil;--otherwise notso just. Mayor Bailly be unwilling to use it! Hang not out that newOriflamme, flame not of gold but of the want of gold! The thrice-blessedRevolution is done, thou thinkest? If so it will be well with thee. But now let no mortal say henceforth that an august NationalAssembly wants riot: all it ever wanted was riot enough to balanceCourt-plotting; all it now wants, of Heaven or of Earth, is to get itstheory of defective verbs perfected. Chapter 2. 1. III. The Muster. With famine and a Constitutional theory of defective verbs going on, all other excitement is conceivable. A universal shaking and sifting ofFrench Existence this is: in the course of which, for one thing, what amultitude of low-lying figures are sifted to the top, and set busily towork there! Dogleech Marat, now for-seen as Simon Stylites, we already know; him andothers, raised aloft. The mere sample, these, of what is coming, of whatcontinues coming, upwards from the realm of Night!--Chaumette, by andby Anaxagoras Chaumette, one already descries: mellifluous instreet-groups; not now a sea-boy on the high and giddy mast: amellifluous tribune of the common people, with long curling locks, on bourne-stone of the thoroughfares; able sub-editor too; who shallrise--to the very gallows. Clerk Tallien, he also is become sub-editor;shall become able editor; and more. Bibliopolic Momoro, TypographicPruhomme see new trades opening. Collot d'Herbois, tearing a passionto rags, pauses on the Thespian boards; listens, with that black bushyhead, to the sound of the world's drama: shall the Mimetic become Real?Did ye hiss him, O men of Lyons? (Buzot, Memoires (Paris, 1823), p. 90. )Better had ye clapped! Happy now, indeed, for all manner of mimetic, half-original men! Tumidblustering, with more or less of sincerity, which need not be entirelysincere, yet the sincerer the better, is like to go far. Shall wesay, the Revolution-element works itself rarer and rarer; so that onlylighter and lighter bodies will float in it; till at last the mereblown-bladder is your only swimmer? Limitation of mind, then vehemence, promptitude, audacity, shall all be available; to which add onlythese two: cunning and good lungs. Good fortune must be presupposed. Accordingly, of all classes the rising one, we observe, is nowthe Attorney class: witness Bazires, Carriers, Fouquier-Tinvilles, Bazoche-Captain Bourdons: more than enough. Such figures shall Night, from her wonder-bearing bosom, emit; swarm after swarm. Of anotherdeeper and deepest swarm, not yet dawned on the astonished eye; ofpilfering Candle-snuffers, Thief-valets, disfrocked Capuchins, andso many Heberts, Henriots, Ronsins, Rossignols, let us, as long aspossible, forbear speaking. Thus, over France, all stirs that has what the Physiologists callirritability in it: how much more all wherein irritability has perfecteditself into vitality; into actual vision, and force that can will! Allstirs; and if not in Paris, flocks thither. Great and greater waxesPresident Danton in his Cordeliers Section; his rhetorical tropes areall 'gigantic:' energy flashes from his black brows, menaces in hisathletic figure, rolls in the sound of his voice 'reverberating from thedomes;' this man also, like Mirabeau, has a natural eye, and beginsto see whither Constitutionalism is tending, though with a wish in itdifferent from Mirabeau's. Remark, on the other hand, how General Dumouriez has quitted Normandyand the Cherbourg Breakwater, to come--whither we may guess. It is hissecond or even third trial at Paris, since this New Era began; butnow it is in right earnest, for he has quitted all else. Wiry, elasticunwearied man; whose life was but a battle and a march! No, not acreature of Choiseul's; "the creature of God and of my sword, "--hefiercely answered in old days. Overfalling Corsican batteries, inthe deadly fire-hail; wriggling invincible from under his horse, at Closterkamp of the Netherlands, though tethered with 'crushedstirrup-iron and nineteen wounds;' tough, minatory, standing at bay, asforlorn hope, on the skirts of Poland; intriguing, battling in cabinetand field; roaming far out, obscure, as King's spial, or sittingsealed up, enchanted in Bastille; fencing, pamphleteering, schemingand struggling from the very birth of him, (Dumouriez, Memoires, i. 28, &c. )--the man has come thus far. How repressed, how irrepressible! Likesome incarnate spirit in prison, which indeed he was; hewing on granitewalls for deliverance; striking fire flashes from them. And now has thegeneral earthquake rent his cavern too? Twenty years younger, what mighthe not have done! But his hair has a shade of gray: his way of thoughtis all fixed, military. He can grow no further, and the new world isin such growth. We will name him, on the whole, one of Heaven's Swiss;without faith; wanting above all things work, work on any side. Workalso is appointed him; and he will do it. Not from over France only are the unrestful flocking towards Paris; butfrom all sides of Europe. Where the carcase is, thither will the eaglesgather. Think how many a Spanish Guzman, Martinico Fournier named'Fournier l'Americain, ' Engineer Miranda from the very Andes, wereflocking or had flocked! Walloon Pereyra might boast of the strangestparentage: him, they say, Prince Kaunitz the Diplomatist heedlesslydropped;' like ostrich-egg, to be hatched of Chance--into anostrich-eater! Jewish or German Freys do business in the great Cesspoolof Agio; which Cesspool this Assignat-fiat has quickened, into a Motherof dead dogs. Swiss Claviere could found no Socinian Genevese Colony inIreland; but he paused, years ago, prophetic before the Minister's Hotelat Paris; and said, it was borne on his mind that he one day was to beMinister, and laughed. (Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 399. ) SwissPachc, on the other hand, sits sleekheaded, frugal; the wonder of hisown alley, and even of neighbouring ones, for humility of mind, and athought deeper than most men's: sit there, Tartuffe, till wanted! YeItalian Dufournys, Flemish Prolys, flit hither all ye bipeds of prey!Come whosesoever head is hot; thou of mind ungoverned, be it chaos as ofundevelopment or chaos as of ruin; the man who cannot get known, the manwho is too well known; if thou have any vendible faculty, nay ifthou have but edacity and loquacity, come! They come; with hotunutterabilities in their heart; as Pilgrims towards a miraculousshrine. Nay how many come as vacant Strollers, aimless, of whom Europeis full merely towards something! For benighted fowls, when you beattheir bushes, rush towards any light. Thus Frederick Baron Trenck toois here; mazed, purblind, from the cells of Magdeburg; Minotauric cells, and his Ariadne lost! Singular to say, Trenck, in these years, sellswine; not indeed in bottle, but in wood. Nor is our England without her missionaries. She has her live-savingNeedham; to whom was solemnly presented a 'civic sword, '--long sincerusted into nothingness. Her Paine: rebellious Staymaker; unkempt; whofeels that he, a single Needleman, did by his 'Common Sense' Pamphlet, free America;--that he can and will free all this World; perhaps eventhe other. Price-Stanhope Constitutional Association sends over tocongratulate; (Moniteur, 10 Novembre, 7 Decembre, 1789. ) welcomed byNational Assembly, though they are but a London Club; whom Burke andToryism eye askance. On thee too, for country's sake, O Chevalier John Paul, be a word spent, or misspent! In faded naval uniform, Paul Jones lingers visible here;like a wine-skin from which the wine is all drawn. Like the ghostof himself! Low is his once loud bruit; scarcely audible, save, withextreme tedium in ministerial ante-chambers; in this or the othercharitable dining-room, mindful of the past. What changes; culminatingsand declinings! Not now, poor Paul, thou lookest wistful over the Solwaybrine, by the foot of native Criffel, into blue mountainous Cumberland, into blue Infinitude; environed with thrift, with humble friendliness;thyself, young fool, longing to be aloft from it, or even to be awayfrom it. Yes, beyond that sapphire Promontory, which men name St. Bees, which is not sapphire either, but dull sandstone, when one gets close toit, there is a world. Which world thou too shalt taste of!--From yonderWhite Haven rise his smoke-clouds; ominous though ineffectual. ProudForth quakes at his bellying sails; had not the wind suddenly shifted. Flamborough reapers, homegoing, pause on the hill-side: for whatsulphur-cloud is that that defaces the sleek sea; sulphur-cloud spittingstreaks of fire? A sea cockfight it is, and of the hottest; whereBritish Serapis and French-American Bon Homme Richard do lash andthrottle each other, in their fashion; and lo the desperate valour hassuffocated the deliberate, and Paul Jones too is of the Kings of theSea! The Euxine, the Meotian waters felt thee next, and long-skirted Turks, O Paul; and thy fiery soul has wasted itself in thousandcontradictions;--to no purpose. For, in far lands, with scarletNassau-Siegens, with sinful Imperial Catherines, is not theheart-broken, even as at home with the mean? Poor Paul! hunger anddispiritment track thy sinking footsteps: once or at most twice, in thisRevolution-tumult the figure of thee emerges; mute, ghost-like, as 'withstars dim-twinkling through. ' And then, when the light is gone quiteout, a National Legislature grants 'ceremonial funeral!' As good hadbeen the natural Presbyterian Kirk-bell, and six feet of Scottish earth, among the dust of thy loved ones. --Such world lay beyond the Promontoryof St. Bees. Such is the life of sinful mankind here below. But of all strangers, far the notablest for us is Baron Jean Baptiste deClootz;--or, dropping baptisms and feudalisms, World-Citizen AnacharsisClootz, from Cleves. Him mark, judicious Reader. Thou hast known hisUncle, sharp-sighted thorough-going Cornelius de Pauw, who mercilesslycuts down cherished illusions; and of the finest antique Spartans, willmake mere modern cutthroat Mainots. (De Pauw, Recherches sur les Grecs, &c. ) The like stuff is in Anacharsis: hot metal; full of scoriae, whichshould and could have been smelted out, but which will not. He haswandered over this terraqueous Planet; seeking, one may say, theParadise we lost long ago. He has seen English Burke; has been seenof the Portugal Inquisition; has roamed, and fought, and written; iswriting, among other things, 'Evidences of the Mahometan Religion. ' Butnow, like his Scythian adoptive godfather, he finds himself in the ParisAthens; surely, at last, the haven of his soul. A dashing man, belovedat Patriotic dinner-tables; with gaiety, nay with humour; headlong, trenchant, of free purse; in suitable costume; though what mortal evermore despised costumes? Under all costumes Anacharsis seeks the man; notStylites Marat will more freely trample costumes, if they hold no man. This is the faith of Anacharsis: That there is a Paradise discoverable;that all costumes ought to hold men. O Anacharsis, it is a headlong, swift-going faith. Mounted thereon, meseems, thou art bound hastily forthe City of Nowhere; and wilt arrive! At best, we may say, arrive ingood riding attitude; which indeed is something. So many new persons, and new things, have come to occupy this France. Her old Speech and Thought, and Activity which springs from those, areall changing; fermenting towards unknown issues. To the dullest peasant, as he sits sluggish, overtoiled, by his evening hearth, one idea hascome: that of Chateaus burnt; of Chateaus combustible. How altered allCoffeehouses, in Province or Capital! The Antre de Procope has nowother questions than the Three Stagyrite Unities to settle; nottheatre-controversies, but a world-controversy: there, in the ancientpigtail mode, or with modern Brutus' heads, do well-frizzed logicianshold hubbub, and Chaos umpire sits. The ever-enduring Melody of ParisSaloons has got a new ground-tone: ever-enduring; which has been heard, and by the listening Heaven too, since Julian the Apostate's time andearlier; mad now as formerly. Ex-Censor Suard, Ex-Censor, for we have freedom of the Press; he may beseen there; impartial, even neutral. Tyrant Grimm rolls large eyes, over a questionable coming Time. Atheist Naigeon, beloved discipleof Diderot, crows, in his small difficult way, heralding glad dawn. (Naigeon: Addresse a l'Assemblee Nationale (Paris, 1790) sur la libertedes opinions. ) But, on the other hand, how many Morellets, Marmontels, who had sat all their life hatching Philosophe eggs, cackle now, in astate bordering on distraction, at the brood they have brought out!(See Marmontel, Memoires, passim; Morellet, Memoires, &c. ) It was sodelightful to have one's Philosophe Theorem demonstrated, crowned in thesaloons: and now an infatuated people will not continue speculative, buthave Practice? There also observe Preceptress Genlis, or Sillery, orSillery-Genlis, --for our husband is both Count and Marquis, and wehave more than one title. Pretentious, frothy; a puritan yet creedless;darkening counsel by words without wisdom! For, it is in thatthin element of the Sentimentalist and Distinguished-Female thatSillery-Genlis works; she would gladly be sincere, yet can grow nosincerer than sincere-cant: sincere-cant of many forms, ending in thedevotional form. For the present, on a neck still of moderate whiteness, she wears as jewel a miniature Bastille, cut on mere sandstone, butthen actual Bastille sandstone. M. Le Marquis is one of d'Orleans'serrandmen; in National Assembly, and elsewhere. Madame, for her part, trains up a youthful d'Orleans generation in what superfinest moralityone can; gives meanwhile rather enigmatic account of fair MademoisellePamela, the Daughter whom she has adopted. Thus she, in Palais Royalsaloon;--whither, we remark, d'Orleans himself, spite of Lafayette, hasreturned from that English 'mission' of his: surely no pleasant mission:for the English would not speak to him; and Saint Hannah More ofEngland, so unlike Saint Sillery-Genlis of France, saw him shunned, in Vauxhall Gardens, like one pest-struck, (Hannah More's Life andCorrespondence, ii. C. 5. ) and his red-blue impassive visage waxinghardly a shade bluer. Chapter 2. 1. IV. Journalism. As for Constitutionalism, with its National Guards, it is doing whatit can; and has enough to do: it must, as ever, with one hand wavepersuasively, repressing Patriotism; and keep the other clenched tomenace Royalty plotters. A most delicate task; requiring tact. Thus, if People's-friend Marat has to-day his writ of 'prise de corps, or seizure of body, ' served on him, and dives out of sight, tomorrowhe is left at large; or is even encouraged, as a sort of bandog whosebaying may be useful. President Danton, in open Hall, with reverberatingvoice, declares that, in a case like Marat's, "force may be resisted byforce. " Whereupon the Chatelet serves Danton also with a writ;--which, however, as the whole Cordeliers District responds to it, what Constablewill be prompt to execute? Twice more, on new occasions, does theChatelet launch its writ; and twice more in vain: the body of Dantoncannot be seized by Chatelet; he unseized, should he even fly for aseason, shall behold the Chatelet itself flung into limbo. Municipality and Brissot, meanwhile, are far on with their MunicipalConstitution. The Sixty Districts shall become Forty-eight Sections;much shall be adjusted, and Paris have its Constitution. A Constitutionwholly Elective; as indeed all French Government shall and must be. Andyet, one fatal element has been introduced: that of citoyen actif. Noman who does not pay the marc d'argent, or yearly tax equal to threedays' labour, shall be other than a passive citizen: not the slightestvote for him; were he acting, all the year round, with sledge hammer, with forest-levelling axe! Unheard of! cry Patriot Journals. Yes truly, my Patriot Friends, if Liberty, the passion and prayer of all men'ssouls, means Liberty to send your fifty-thousandth part of a newTongue-fencer into National Debating-club, then, be the gods witness, yeare hardly entreated. Oh, if in National Palaver (as the Africans nameit), such blessedness is verily found, what tyrant would deny it to Sonof Adam! Nay, might there not be a Female Parliament too, with 'screamsfrom the Opposition benches, ' and 'the honourable Member borne out inhysterics?' To a Children's Parliament would I gladly consent; or evenlower if ye wished it. Beloved Brothers! Liberty, one might fear, isactually, as the ancient wise men said, of Heaven. On this Earth, where, thinks the enlightened public, did a brave little Dame de Staal (notNecker's Daughter, but a far shrewder than she) find the nearestapproach to Liberty? After mature computation, cool as Dilworth's, heranswer is, In the Bastille. (See De Staal: Memoires (Paris, 1821), i. 169-280. ) "Of Heaven?" answer many, asking. Wo that they should ask; forthat is the very misery! "Of Heaven" means much; share in the NationalPalaver it may, or may as probably not mean. One Sansculottic bough that cannot fail to flourish is Journalism. Thevoice of the People being the voice of God, shall not such divine voicemake itself heard? To the ends of France; and in as many dialects aswhen the first great Babel was to be built! Some loud as the lion; somesmall as the sucking dove. Mirabeau himself has his instructive Journalor Journals, with Geneva hodmen working in them; and withal has quarrelsenough with Dame le Jay, his Female Bookseller, so ultra-compliantotherwise. (See Dumont: Souvenirs, 6. ) King's-friend Royou still prints himself. Barrere sheds tears of loyalsensibility in Break of Day Journal, though with declining sale. But whyis Freron so hot, democratic; Freron, the King's-friend's Nephew? He hasit by kind, that heat of his: wasp Freron begot him; Voltaire's Frelon;who fought stinging, while sting and poison-bag were left, were it onlyas Reviewer, and over Printed Waste-paper. Constant, illuminative, as the nightly lamplighter, issues the useful Moniteur, for it is nowbecome diurnal: with facts and few commentaries; official, safe in themiddle:--its able Editors sunk long since, recoverably or irrecoverably, in deep darkness. Acid Loustalot, with his 'vigour, ' as of young sloes, shall never ripen, but die untimely: his Prudhomme, however, willnot let that Revolutions de Paris die; but edit it himself, with muchelse, --dull-blustering Printer though he be. Of Cassandra-Marat we have spoken often; yet the most surprising truthremains to be spoken: that he actually does not want sense; but, withcroaking gelid throat, croaks out masses of the truth, on severalthings. Nay sometimes, one might almost fancy he had a perception ofhumour, and were laughing a little, far down in his inner man. Camilleis wittier than ever, and more outspoken, cynical; yet sunny as ever. Alight melodious creature; 'born, ' as he shall yet say with bitter tears, 'to write verses;' light Apollo, so clear, soft-lucent, in this war ofthe Titans, wherein he shall not conquer! Folded and hawked Newspapers exist in all countries; but, in such aJournalistic element as this of France, other and stranger sorts areto be anticipated. What says the English reader to a Journal-Affiche, Placard Journal; legible to him that has no halfpenny; in brightprismatic colours, calling the eye from afar? Such, in the comingmonths, as Patriot Associations, public and private, advance, and cansubscribe funds, shall plenteously hang themselves out: leaves, limedleaves, to catch what they can! The very Government shall have itsPasted Journal; Louvet, busy yet with a new 'charming romance, ' shallwrite Sentinelles, and post them with effect; nay Bertrand deMoleville, in his extremity, shall still more cunningly try it. (SeeBertrand-Moleville: Memoires, ii. 100, &c. ) Great is Journalism. Is notevery Able Editor a Ruler of the World, being a persuader of it; thoughself-elected, yet sanctioned, by the sale of his Numbers? Whom indeedthe world has the readiest method of deposing, should need be: that ofmerely doing nothing to him; which ends in starvation! Nor esteem it small what those Bill-stickers had to do in Paris: aboveThree Score of them: all with their crosspoles, haversacks, pastepots;nay with leaden badges, for the Municipality licenses them. A SacredCollege, properly of World-rulers' Heralds, though not respected assuch, in an Era still incipient and raw. They made the walls of Parisdidactic, suasive, with an ever fresh Periodical Literature, whereinhe that ran might read: Placard Journals, Placard Lampoons, Municipal Ordinances, Royal Proclamations; the whole other or vulgarPlacard-department super-added, --or omitted from contempt! Whatunutterable things the stone-walls spoke, during these five years! Butit is all gone; To-day swallowing Yesterday, and then being in itsturn swallowed of To-morrow, even as Speech ever is. Nay what, O thouimmortal Man of Letters, is Writing itself but Speech conserved for atime? The Placard Journal conserved it for one day; some Books conserveit for the matter of ten years; nay some for three thousand: but whatthen? Why, then, the years being all run, it also dies, and the worldis rid of it. Oh, were there not a spirit in the word of man, as inman himself, that survived the audible bodied word, and tended eitherGodward, or else Devilward for evermore, why should he trouble himselfmuch with the truth of it, or the falsehood of it, except for commercialpurposes? His immortality indeed, and whether it shall last half alifetime, or a lifetime and half; is not that a very considerable thing?As mortality, was to the runaway, whom Great Fritz bullied back into thebattle with a: "R--, wollt ihr ewig leben, Unprintable Off-scouring ofScoundrels, would ye live for ever!" This is the Communication of Thought: how happy when there is anyThought to communicate! Neither let the simpler old methods beneglected, in their sphere. The Palais-Royal Tent, a tyrannousPatrollotism has removed; but can it remove the lungs of man? AnaxagorasChaumette we saw mounted on bourne-stones, while Tallien workedsedentary at the subeditorial desk. In any corner of the civilisedworld, a tub can be inverted, and an articulate-speaking biped mountthereon. Nay, with contrivance, a portable trestle, or folding-stool, can be procured, for love or money; this the peripatetic Orator can takein his hand, and, driven out here, set it up again there; saying mildly, with a Sage Bias, Omnia mea mecum porto. Such is Journalism, hawked, pasted, spoken. How changed since Oneold Metra walked this same Tuileries Garden, in gilt cocked hat, withJournal at his nose, or held loose-folded behind his back; and was anotability of Paris, 'Metra the Newsman;' (Dulaure, Histoire de Paris, viii. 483; Mercier, Nouveau Paris, &c. ) and Louis himself was wont tosay: Qu'en dit Metra? Since the first Venetian News-sheet was sold for agazza, or farthing, and named Gazette! We live in a fertile world. Chapter 2. 1. V. Clubbism. Where the heart is full, it seeks, for a thousand reasons, in a thousandways, to impart itself. How sweet, indispensable, in such cases, isfellowship; soul mystically strengthening soul! The meditative Germans, some think, have been of opinion that Enthusiasm in the general meanssimply excessive Congregating--Schwarmerey, or Swarming. At any rate, do we not see glimmering half-red embers, if laid together, get into thebrightest white glow? In such a France, gregarious Reunions will needs multiply, intensify;French Life will step out of doors, and, from domestic, become a publicClub Life. Old Clubs, which already germinated, grow and flourish; newevery where bud forth. It is the sure symptom of Social Unrest: in suchway, most infallibly of all, does Social Unrest exhibit itself; findsolacement, and also nutriment. In every French head there hangs now, whether for terror or for hope, some prophetic picture of a New France:prophecy which brings, nay which almost is, its own fulfilment; and inall ways, consciously and unconsciously, works towards that. Observe, moreover, how the Aggregative Principle, let it be but deepenough, goes on aggregating, and this even in a geometrical progression:how when the whole world, in such a plastic time, is forming itselfinto Clubs, some One Club, the strongest or luckiest, shall, by friendlyattracting, by victorious compelling, grow ever stronger, till it becomeimmeasurably strong; and all the others, with their strength, be eitherlovingly absorbed into it, or hostilely abolished by it! This if theClub-spirit is universal; if the time is plastic. Plastic enough is thetime, universal the Club-spirit: such an all absorbing, paramount OneClub cannot be wanting. What a progress, since the first salient-point of the Breton Committee!It worked long in secret, not languidly; it has come with the NationalAssembly to Paris; calls itself Club; calls itself in imitation, as isthought, of those generous Price-Stanhope English, French RevolutionClub; but soon, with more originality, Club of Friends of theConstitution. Moreover it has leased, for itself, at a fair rent, theHall of the Jacobin's Convent, one of our 'superfluous edifices;' anddoes therefrom now, in these spring months, begin shining out on anadmiring Paris. And so, by degrees, under the shorter popular title ofJacobins' Club, it shall become memorable to all times and lands. Glanceinto the interior: strongly yet modestly benched and seated; as many asThirteen Hundred chosen Patriots; Assembly Members not a few. Barnave, the two Lameths are seen there; occasionally Mirabeau, perpetuallyRobespierre; also the ferret-visage of Fouquier-Tinville withother attorneys; Anacharsis of Prussian Scythia, and miscellaneousPatriots, --though all is yet in the most perfectly clean-washed state;decent, nay dignified. President on platform, President's bell arenot wanting; oratorical Tribune high-raised; nor strangers' galleries, wherein also sit women. Has any French Antiquarian Society preservedthat written Lease of the Jacobins Convent Hall? Or was it, unluckiereven than Magna Charta, clipt by sacrilegious Tailors? Universal Historyis not indifferent to it. These Friends of the Constitution have met mainly, as their name mayforeshadow, to look after Elections when an Election comes, and procurefit men; but likewise to consult generally that the Commonweal takeno damage; one as yet sees not how. For indeed let two or three gathertogether any where, if it be not in Church, where all are bound to thepassive state; no mortal can say accurately, themselves as little asany, for what they are gathered. How often has the broached barrelproved not to be for joy and heart effusion, but for duel andhead-breakage; and the promised feast become a Feast of the Lapithae!This Jacobins Club, which at first shone resplendent, and was thought tobe a new celestial Sun for enlightening the Nations, had, as things allhave, to work through its appointed phases: it burned unfortunately moreand more lurid, more sulphurous, distracted;--and swam at last, throughthe astonished Heaven, like a Tartarean Portent, and lurid-burningPrison of Spirits in Pain. Its style of eloquence? Rejoice, Reader, that thou knowest it not, thatthou canst never perfectly know. The Jacobins published a Journalof Debates, where they that have the heart may examine: Impassioned, full-droning Patriotic-eloquence; implacable, unfertile--save forDestruction, which was indeed its work: most wearisome, though mostdeadly. Be thankful that Oblivion covers so much; that all carrion isby and by buried in the green Earth's bosom, and even makes her grow thegreener. The Jacobins are buried; but their work is not; it continues'making the tour of the world, ' as it can. It might be seen lately, forinstance, with bared bosom and death-defiant eye, as far on asGreek Missolonghi; and, strange enough, old slumbering Hellas wasresuscitated, into somnambulism which will become clear wakefulness, bya voice from the Rue St. Honore! All dies, as we often say; except thespirit of man, of what man does. Thus has not the very House of theJacobins vanished; scarcely lingering in a few old men's memories?The St. Honore Market has brushed it away, and now where dull-droningeloquence, like a Trump of Doom, once shook the world, there is pacificchaffering for poultry and greens. The sacred National Assembly Hallitself has become common ground; President's platform permeable to wainand dustcart; for the Rue de Rivoli runs there. Verily, at Cockcrow (ofthis Cock or the other), all Apparitions do melt and dissolve in space. The Paris Jacobins became 'the Mother-Society, Societe-Mere;' and hadas many as 'three hundred' shrill-tongued daughters in 'directcorrespondence' with her. Of indirectly corresponding, what we maycall grand-daughters and minute progeny, she counted 'forty-fourthousand!'--But for the present we note only two things: the firstof them a mere anecdote. One night, a couple of brother Jacobins aredoorkeepers; for the members take this post of duty and honour inrotation, and admit none that have not tickets: one doorkeeper was theworthy Sieur Lais, a patriotic Opera-singer, stricken in years, whosewindpipe is long since closed without result; the other, young, andnamed Louis Philippe, d'Orleans's firstborn, has in this latter time, after unheard-of destinies, become Citizen-King, and struggles to rulefor a season. All-flesh is grass; higher reedgrass or creeping herb. The second thing we have to note is historical: that the Mother-Society, even in this its effulgent period, cannot content all Patriots. Alreadyit must throw off, so to speak, two dissatisfied swarms; a swarm tothe right, a swarm to the left. One party, which thinks the Jacobinslukewarm, constitutes itself into Club of the Cordeliers; a hotter Club:it is Danton's element: with whom goes Desmoulins. The other party, again, which thinks the Jacobins scalding-hot, flies off to the right, and becomes 'Club of 1789, Friends of the Monarchic Constitution. ' Theyare afterwards named 'Feuillans Club;' their place of meeting being theFeuillans Convent. Lafayette is, or becomes, their chief-man; supportedby the respectable Patriot everywhere, by the mass of Property andIntelligence, --with the most flourishing prospects. They, in these Junedays of 1790, do, in the Palais Royal, dine solemnly with open windows;to the cheers of the people; with toasts, with inspiriting songs, --withone song at least, among the feeblest ever sung. (Hist. Parl. Vi. 334. ) They shall, in due time be hooted forth, over the borders, intoCimmerian Night. Another expressly Monarchic or Royalist Club, 'Club des Monarchiens, 'though a Club of ample funds, and all sitting in damask sofas, cannot realise the smallest momentary cheer; realises only scoffs andgroans;--till, ere long, certain Patriots in disorderly sufficientnumber, proceed thither, for a night or for nights, and groan it out ofpain. Vivacious alone shall the Mother-Society and her family be. Thevery Cordeliers may, as it were, return into her bosom, which will havegrown warm enough. Fatal-looking! Are not such Societies an incipient New Order of Societyitself? The Aggregative Principle anew at work in a Society grownobsolete, cracked asunder, dissolving into rubbish and primary atoms? Chapter 2. 1. VI. Je le jure. With these signs of the times, is it not surprising that the dominantfeeling all over France was still continually Hope? O blessed Hope, soleboon of man; whereby, on his strait prison walls, are painted beautifulfar-stretching landscapes; and into the night of very Death is shedholiest dawn! Thou art to all an indefeasible possession in thisGod's-world: to the wise a sacred Constantine's-banner, written on theeternal skies; under which they shall conquer, for the battle itself isvictory: to the foolish some secular mirage, or shadow of still waters, painted on the parched Earth; whereby at least their dusty pilgrimage, if devious, becomes cheerfuller, becomes possible. In the death-tumults of a sinking Society, French Hope sees only thebirth-struggles of a new unspeakably better Society; and sings, withfull assurance of faith, her brisk Melody, which some inspired fiddlerhas in these very days composed for her, --the world-famous ca-ira. Yes;'that will go:' and then there will come--? All men hope: even Marathopes--that Patriotism will take muff and dirk. King Louis is notwithout hope: in the chapter of chances; in a flight to some Bouille; ingetting popularized at Paris. But what a hoping People he had, judge bythe fact, and series of facts, now to be noted. Poor Louis, meaning the best, with little insight and even lessdetermination of his own, has to follow, in that dim wayfaring of his, such signal as may be given him; by backstairs Royalism, by official orbackstairs Constitutionalism, whichever for the month may have convincedthe royal mind. If flight to Bouille, and (horrible to think!) a drawingof the civil sword do hang as theory, portentous in the background, muchnearer is this fact of these Twelve Hundred Kings, who sit in the Sallede Manege. Kings uncontrollable by him, not yet irreverent to him. Couldkind management of these but prosper, how much better were it than armedEmigrants, Turin-intrigues, and the help of Austria! Nay, are the twohopes inconsistent? Rides in the suburbs, we have found, cost little;yet they always brought vivats. (See Bertrand-Moleville, i. 241, &c. )Still cheaper is a soft word; such as has many times turned awaywrath. In these rapid days, while France is all getting divided intoDepartments, Clergy about to be remodelled, Popular Societiesrising, and Feudalism and so much ever is ready to be hurled into themelting-pot, --might one not try? On the 4th of February, accordingly, M. Le President reads to hisNational Assembly a short autograph, announcing that his Majesty willstep over, quite in an unceremonious way, probably about noon. Think, therefore, Messieurs, what it may mean; especially, how ye will get theHall decorated a little. The Secretaries' Bureau can be shifted downfrom the platform; on the President's chair be slipped this cover ofvelvet, 'of a violet colour sprigged with gold fleur-de-lys;'--forindeed M. Le President has had previous notice underhand, and takencounsel with Doctor Guillotin. Then some fraction of 'velvet carpet, 'of like texture and colour, cannot that be spread in front of the chair, where the Secretaries usually sit? So has judicious Guillotin advised:and the effect is found satisfactory. Moreover, as it is probable thathis Majesty, in spite of the fleur-de-lys-velvet, will stand and not sitat all, the President himself, in the interim, presides standing. Andso, while some honourable Member is discussing, say, the division of aDepartment, Ushers announce: "His Majesty!" In person, with small suite, enter Majesty: the honourable Member stops short; the Assembly startsto its feet; the Twelve Hundred Kings 'almost all, ' and the Galleries noless, do welcome the Restorer of French Liberty with loyal shouts. HisMajesty's Speech, in diluted conventional phraseology, expresses thismainly: That he, most of all Frenchmen, rejoices to see France gettingregenerated; is sure, at the same time, that they will deal gentlywith her in the process, and not regenerate her roughly. Such was hisMajesty's Speech: the feat he performed was coming to speak it, andgoing back again. Surely, except to a very hoping People, there was not much here to buildupon. Yet what did they not build! The fact that the King has spoken, that he has voluntarily come to speak, how inexpressibly encouraging!Did not the glance of his royal countenance, like concentrated sunbeams, kindle all hearts in an august Assembly; nay thereby in an inflammableenthusiastic France? To move 'Deputation of thanks' can be the happylot of but one man; to go in such Deputation the lot of not many. TheDeputed have gone, and returned with what highest-flown compliment theycould; whom also the Queen met, Dauphin in hand. And still do not ourhearts burn with insatiable gratitude; and to one other man a stillhigher blessedness suggests itself: To move that we all renew theNational Oath. Happiest honourable Member, with his word so in season as word seldomwas; magic Fugleman of a whole National Assembly, which sat therebursting to do somewhat; Fugleman of a whole onlooking France! ThePresident swears; declares that every one shall swear, in distinct jele jure. Nay the very Gallery sends him down a written slip signed, withtheir Oath on it; and as the Assembly now casts an eye that way, theGallery all stands up and swears again. And then out of doors, considerat the Hotel-de-Ville how Bailly, the great Tennis-Court swearer, again swears, towards nightful, with all the Municipals, and Heads ofDistricts assembled there. And 'M. Danton suggests that the public wouldlike to partake:' whereupon Bailly, with escort of Twelve, stepsforth to the great outer staircase; sways the ebullient multitude withstretched hand: takes their oath, with a thunder of 'rolling drums, 'with shouts that rend the welkin. And on all streets the glad people, with moisture and fire in their eyes, 'spontaneously formed groups, andswore one another, ' (Newspapers in Hist. Parl. Iv. 445. )--and the wholeCity was illuminated. This was the Fourth of February 1790: a day to bemarked white in Constitutional annals. Nor is the illumination for a night only, but partially or totallyit lasts a series of nights. For each District, the Electors of eachDistrict, will swear specially; and always as the District swears; itilluminates itself. Behold them, District after District, in some opensquare, where the Non-Electing People can all see and join: withtheir uplifted right hands, and je le jure: with rolling drums, withembracings, and that infinite hurrah of the enfranchised, --which anytyrant that there may be can consider! Faithful to the King, to the Law, to the Constitution which the National Assembly shall make. Fancy, for example, the Professors of Universities parading the streetswith their young France, and swearing, in an enthusiastic manner, notwithout tumult. By a larger exercise of fancy, expand duly this littleword: The like was repeated in every Town and District of France! Nayone Patriot Mother, in Lagnon of Brittany, assembles her ten children;and, with her own aged hand, swears them all herself, the highsouledvenerable woman. Of all which, moreover, a National Assembly must beeloquently apprised. Such three weeks of swearing! Saw the sun ever sucha swearing people? Have they been bit by a swearing tarantula? No: butthey are men and Frenchmen; they have Hope; and, singular to say, theyhave Faith, were it only in the Gospel according to Jean Jacques. O myBrothers! would to Heaven it were even as ye think and have sworn!But there are Lovers' Oaths, which, had they been true as love itself, cannot be kept; not to speak of Dicers' Oaths, also a known sort. Chapter 2. 1. VII. Prodigies. To such length had the Contrat Social brought it, in believing hearts. Man, as is well said, lives by faith; each generation has its ownfaith, more or less; and laughs at the faith of its predecessor, --mostunwisely. Grant indeed that this faith in the Social Contract belongsto the stranger sorts; that an unborn generation may very wisely, ifnot laugh, yet stare at it, and piously consider. For, alas, what isContrat? If all men were such that a mere spoken or sworn Contract wouldbind them, all men were then true men, and Government a superfluity. Notwhat thou and I have promised to each other, but what the balance of ourforces can make us perform to each other: that, in so sinful a worldas ours, is the thing to be counted on. But above all, a People and aSovereign promising to one another; as if a whole People, changingfrom generation to generation, nay from hour to hour, could ever by anymethod be made to speak or promise; and to speak mere solecisms: "We, be the Heavens witness, which Heavens however do no miracles now; we, ever-changing Millions, will allow thee, changeful Unit, to force us orgovern us!" The world has perhaps seen few faiths comparable to that. So nevertheless had the world then construed the matter. Had they not soconstrued it, how different had their hopes been, their attempts, theirresults! But so and not otherwise did the Upper Powers will it to be. Freedom by Social Contract: such was verily the Gospel of that Era. Andall men had believed in it, as in a Heaven's Glad-tidings men should;and with overflowing heart and uplifted voice clave to it, and stoodfronting Time and Eternity on it. Nay smile not; or only with a smilesadder than tears! This too was a better faith than the one it hadreplaced: than faith merely in the Everlasting Nothing and man'sDigestive Power; lower than which no faith can go. Not that such universally prevalent, universally jurant, feeling ofHope, could be a unanimous one. Far from that! The time was ominous:social dissolution near and certain; social renovation still a problem, difficult and distant even though sure. But if ominous to some clearestonlooker, whose faith stood not with one side or with the other, norin the ever-vexed jarring of Greek with Greek at all, --how unspeakablyominous to dim Royalist participators; for whom Royalism was Mankind'spalladium; for whom, with the abolition of Most-Christian Kingship andMost-Talleyrand Bishopship, all loyal obedience, all religious faithwas to expire, and final Night envelope the Destinies of Man! On serioushearts, of that persuasion, the matter sinks down deep; prompting, aswe have seen, to backstairs Plots, to Emigration with pledge of war, toMonarchic Clubs; nay to still madder things. The Spirit of Prophecy, for instance, had been considered extinct forsome centuries: nevertheless these last-times, as indeed is the tendencyof last-times, do revive it; that so, of French mad things, we mighthave sample also of the maddest. In remote rural districts, whitherPhilosophism has not yet radiated, where a heterodox Constitution ofthe Clergy is bringing strife round the altar itself, and the veryChurch-bells are getting melted into small money-coin, it appearsprobable that the End of the World cannot be far off. Deep-musingatrabiliar old men, especially old women, hint in an obscure way thatthey know what they know. The Holy Virgin, silent so long, has not gonedumb;--and truly now, if ever more in this world, were the time for herto speak. One Prophetess, though careless Historians have omitted hername, condition, and whereabout, becomes audible to the general ear;credible to not a few: credible to Friar Gerle, poor Patriot Chartreux, in the National Assembly itself! She, in Pythoness' recitative, withwildstaring eye, sings that there shall be a Sign; that the heavenly Sunhimself will hang out a Sign, or Mock-Sun, --which, many say, shall bestamped with the Head of hanged Favras. List, Dom Gerle, with that pooraddled poll of thine; list, O list;--and hear nothing. (Deux Amis, v. C. 7. ) Notable however was that 'magnetic vellum, velin magnetique, ' of theSieurs d'Hozier and Petit-Jean, Parlementeers of Rouen. Sweetyoung d'Hozier, 'bred in the faith of his Missal, and of parchmentgenealogies, ' and of parchment generally: adust, melancholic, middle-aged Petit-Jean: why came these two to Saint-Cloud, where hisMajesty was hunting, on the festival of St. Peter and St. Paul; andwaited there, in antechambers, a wonder to whispering Swiss, thelivelong day; and even waited without the Grates, when turned out; andhad dismissed their valets to Paris, as with purpose of endless waiting?They have a magnetic vellum, these two; whereon the Virgin, wonderfullyclothing herself in Mesmerean Cagliostric Occult-Philosophy, has inspired them to jot down instructions and predictions for amuch-straitened King. To whom, by Higher Order, they will this daypresent it; and save the Monarchy and World. Unaccountable pair ofvisual-objects! Ye should be men, and of the Eighteenth Century; butyour magnetic vellum forbids us so to interpret. Say, are ye aught?Thus ask the Guardhouse Captains, the Mayor of St. Cloud; nay, at greatlength, thus asks the Committee of Researches, and not the Municipal, but the National Assembly one. No distinct answer, for weeks. At last itbecomes plain that the right answer is negative. Go, ye Chimeras, withyour magnetic vellum; sweet young Chimera, adust middle-aged one! ThePrison-doors are open. Hardly again shall ye preside the Rouen Chamberof Accounts; but vanish obscurely into Limbo. (See Deux Amis, v. 199. ) Chapter 2. 1. VIII. Solemn League and Covenant. Such dim masses, and specks of even deepest black, work in thatwhite-hot glow of the French mind, now wholly in fusion, and confusion. Old women here swearing their ten children on the new Evangel of JeanJacques; old women there looking up for Favras' Heads in the celestialLuminary: these are preternatural signs, prefiguring somewhat. In fact, to the Patriot children of Hope themselves, it is undeniablethat difficulties exist: emigrating Seigneurs; Parlements in sneakingbut most malicious mutiny (though the rope is round their neck); aboveall, the most decided 'deficiency of grains. ' Sorrowful: but, to aNation that hopes, not irremediable. To a Nation which is in fusionand ardent communion of thought; which, for example, on signal of oneFugleman, will lift its right hand like a drilled regiment, and swearand illuminate, till every village from Ardennes to the Pyrenees hasrolled its village-drum, and sent up its little oath, and glimmer oftallow-illumination some fathoms into the reign of Night! If grains are defective, the fault is not of Nature or NationalAssembly, but of Art and Antinational Intriguers. Such malignindividuals, of the scoundrel species, have power to vex us, while theConstitution is a-making. Endure it, ye heroic Patriots: nay rather, why not cure it? Grains do grow, they lie extant there in sheaf or sack;only that regraters and Royalist plotters, to provoke the people intoillegality, obstruct the transport of grains. Quick, ye organisedPatriot Authorities, armed National Guards, meet together; unite yourgoodwill; in union is tenfold strength: let the concentred flash of yourPatriotism strike stealthy Scoundrelism blind, paralytic, as with a coupde soleil. Under which hat or nightcap of the Twenty-five millions, this pregnantIdea first rose, for in some one head it did rise, no man can now say. A most small idea, near at hand for the whole world: but a living one, fit; and which waxed, whether into greatness or not, into immeasurablesize. When a Nation is in this state that the Fugleman can operate onit, what will the word in season, the act in season, not do! It willgrow verily, like the Boy's Bean in the Fairy-Tale, heaven-high, withhabitations and adventures on it, in one night. It is neverthelessunfortunately still a Bean (for your long-lived Oak grows not so);and, the next night, it may lie felled, horizontal, trodden into commonmud. --But remark, at least, how natural to any agitated Nation, whichhas Faith, this business of Covenanting is. The Scotch, believing in arighteous Heaven above them, and also in a Gospel, far other than theJean-Jacques one, swore, in their extreme need, a Solemn League andCovenant, --as Brothers on the forlorn-hope, and imminence of battle, whoembrace looking Godward; and got the whole Isle to swear it; and even, in their tough Old-Saxon Hebrew-Presbyterian way, to keep it more orless;--for the thing, as such things are, was heard in Heaven, andpartially ratified there; neither is it yet dead, if thou wilt look, norlike to die. The French too, with their Gallic-Ethnic excitability andeffervescence, have, as we have seen, real Faith, of a sort; they arehard bestead, though in the middle of Hope: a National Solemn Leagueand Covenant there may be in France too; under how different conditions;with how different developement and issue! Note, accordingly, the small commencement; first spark of a mightyfirework: for if the particular hat cannot be fixed upon, the particularDistrict can. On the 29th day of last November, were National Guards bythe thousand seen filing, from far and near, with military music, with Municipal officers in tricolor sashes, towards and along theRhone-stream, to the little town of Etoile. There with ceremonialevolution and manoeuvre, with fanfaronading, musketry-salvoes, and whatelse the Patriot genius could devise, they made oath and obtestation tostand faithfully by one another, under Law and King; in particular, tohave all manner of grains, while grains there were, freely circulated, in spite both of robber and regrater. This was the meeting of Etoile, inthe mild end of November 1789. But now, if a mere empty Review, followed by Review-dinner, ball, andsuch gesticulation and flirtation as there may be, interests the happyCounty-town, and makes it the envy of surrounding County-towns, how muchmore might this! In a fortnight, larger Montelimart, half ashamed ofitself, will do as good, and better. On the Plain of Montelimart, or what is equally sonorous, 'under the Walls of Montelimart, ' thethirteenth of December sees new gathering and obtestation; six thousandstrong; and now indeed, with these three remarkable improvements, asunanimously resolved on there. First that the men of Montelimartdo federate with the already federated men of Etoile. Second, that, implying not expressing the circulation of grain, they 'swear inthe face of God and their Country' with much more emphasis andcomprehensiveness, 'to obey all decrees of the National Assembly, and see them obeyed, till death, jusqu'a la mort. ' Third, and mostimportant, that official record of all this be solemnly delivered into the National Assembly, to M. De Lafayette, and 'to the Restorer ofFrench Liberty;' who shall all take what comfort from it they can. Thusdoes larger Montelimart vindicate its Patriot importance, and maintainits rank in the municipal scale. (Hist. Parl. Vii. 4. ) And so, with the New-year, the signal is hoisted; for is not a NationalAssembly, and solemn deliverance there, at lowest a National Telegraph?Not only grain shall circulate, while there is grain, on highways orthe Rhone-waters, over all that South-Eastern region, --where also ifMonseigneur d'Artois saw good to break in from Turin, hot welcome mightwait him; but whatsoever Province of France is straitened for grain, orvexed with a mutinous Parlement, unconstitutional plotters, MonarchicClubs, or any other Patriot ailment, --can go and do likewise, or even dobetter. And now, especially, when the February swearing has set them allagog! From Brittany to Burgundy, on most plains of France, undermost City-walls, it is a blaring of trumpets, waving of banners, aconstitutional manoeuvring: under the vernal skies, while Nature toois putting forth her green Hopes, under bright sunshine defaced by thestormful East; like Patriotism victorious, though with difficulty, overAristocracy and defect of grain! There march and constitutionallywheel, to the ca-ira-ing mood of fife and drum, under their tricolorMunicipals, our clear-gleaming Phalanxes; or halt, with upliftedright-hand, and artillery-salvoes that imitate Jove's thunder; andall the Country, and metaphorically all 'the Universe, ' is looking on. Wholly, in their best apparel, brave men, and beautifully dizened women, most of whom have lovers there; swearing, by the eternal Heavens andthis green-growing all-nutritive Earth, that France is free! Sweetest days, when (astonishing to say) mortals have actually mettogether in communion and fellowship; and man, were it only oncethrough long despicable centuries, is for moments verily the brother ofman!--And then the Deputations to the National Assembly, with highflowndescriptive harangue; to M. De Lafayette, and the Restorer; veryfrequently moreover to the Mother of Patriotism sitting on her stoutbenches in that Hall of the Jacobins! The general ear is filled withFederation. New names of Patriots emerge, which shall one day becomefamiliar: Boyer-Fonfrede eloquent denunciator of a rebellious BourdeauxParlement; Max Isnard eloquent reporter of the Federation of Draguignan;eloquent pair, separated by the whole breadth of France, who arenevertheless to meet. Ever wider burns the flame of Federation; everwider and also brighter. Thus the Brittany and Anjou brethren mentiona Fraternity of all true Frenchmen; and go the length of invoking'perdition and death' on any renegade: moreover, if in theirNational-Assembly harangue, they glance plaintively at the marc d'argentwhich makes so many citizens passive, they, over in the Mother-Society, ask, being henceforth themselves 'neither Bretons nor Angevins butFrench, ' Why all France has not one Federation, and universal Oath ofBrotherhood, once for all? (Reports, &c. (in Hist. Parl. Ix. 122-147). )A most pertinent suggestion; dating from the end of March. Whichpertinent suggestion the whole Patriot world cannot but catch, andreverberate and agitate till it become loud;--which, in that case, theTownhall Municipals had better take up, and meditate. Some universal Federation seems inevitable: the Where is given; clearlyParis: only the When, the How? These also productive Time will give; isalready giving. For always as the Federative work goes on, it perfectsitself, and Patriot genius adds contribution after contribution. Thus, at Lyons, in the end of the May month, we behold as many as fifty, orsome say sixty thousand, met to federate; and a multitude looking on, which it would be difficult to number. From dawn to dusk! For our LyonsGuardsmen took rank, at five in the bright dewy morning; came pouringin, bright-gleaming, to the Quai de Rhone, to march thence to theFederation-field; amid wavings of hats and lady-handkerchiefs; gladshoutings of some two hundred thousand Patriot voices and hearts;the beautiful and brave! Among whom, courting no notice, and yet thenotablest of all, what queenlike Figure is this; with her escort ofhouse-friends and Champagneux the Patriot Editor; come abroad with theearliest? Radiant with enthusiasm are those dark eyes, is that strongMinerva-face, looking dignity and earnest joy; joyfullest she whereall are joyful. It is Roland de la Platriere's Wife! (Madame Roland, Memoires, i. (Discours Preliminaire, p. 23). ) Strict elderly Roland, King's Inspector of Manufactures here; and now likewise, by popularchoice, the strictest of our new Lyons Municipals: a man who has gainedmuch, if worth and faculty be gain; but above all things, has gained towife Phlipon the Paris Engraver's daughter. Reader, mark that queenlikeburgher-woman: beautiful, Amazonian-graceful to the eye; more so to themind. Unconscious of her worth (as all worth is), of her greatness, ofher crystal clearness; genuine, the creature of Sincerity and Nature, in an age of Artificiality, Pollution and Cant; there, in her stillcompleteness, in her still invincibility, she, if thou knew it, is thenoblest of all living Frenchwomen, --and will be seen, one day. O blessedrather while unseen, even of herself! For the present she gazes, nothingdoubting, into this grand theatricality; and thinks her young dreams areto be fulfilled. From dawn to dusk, as we said, it lasts; and truly a sight likefew. Flourishes of drums and trumpets are something: but think of an'artificial Rock fifty feet high, ' all cut into crag-steps, not withoutthe similitude of 'shrubs!' The interior cavity, for in sooth it ismade of deal, --stands solemn, a 'Temple of Concord:' on the outer summitrises 'a Statue of Liberty, ' colossal, seen for miles, with her Pike andPhrygian Cap, and civic column; at her feet a Country's Altar, 'Autel dela Patrie:'--on all which neither deal-timber nor lath and plaster, withpaint of various colours, have been spared. But fancy then the bannersall placed on the steps of the Rock; high-mass chaunted; and the civicoath of fifty thousand: with what volcanic outburst of sound from ironand other throats, enough to frighten back the very Saone and Rhone; andhow the brightest fireworks, and balls, and even repasts closed in thatnight of the gods! (Hist. Parl. Xii. 274. ) And so the Lyons Federationvanishes too, swallowed of darkness;--and yet not wholly, for our bravefair Roland was there; also she, though in the deepest privacy, writesher Narrative of it in Champagneux's Courier de Lyons; a piece which'circulates to the extent of sixty thousand;' which one would like nowto read. But on the whole, Paris, we may see, will have little to devise; willonly have to borrow and apply. And then as to the day, what day of allthe calendar is fit, if the Bastille Anniversary be not? The particularspot too, it is easy to see, must be the Champ-de-Mars; where many aJulian the Apostate has been lifted on bucklers, to France's or theworld's sovereignty; and iron Franks, loud-clanging, have responded tothe voice of a Charlemagne; and from of old mere sublimities have beenfamiliar. Chapter 2. 1. IX. Symbolic. How natural, in all decisive circumstances, is Symbolic Representationto all kinds of men! Nay, what is man's whole terrestrial Life but aSymbolic Representation, and making visible, of the Celestial invisibleForce that is in him? By act and world he strives to do it; withsincerity, if possible; failing that, with theatricality, which latteralso may have its meaning. An Almack's Masquerade is not nothing; inmore genial ages, your Christmas Guisings, Feasts of the Ass, Abbotsof Unreason, were a considerable something: since sport they were; asAlmacks may still be sincere wish for sport. But what, on the otherhand, must not sincere earnest have been: say, a Hebrew Feast ofTabernacles have been! A whole Nation gathered, in the name of theHighest, under the eye of the Highest; imagination herself flaggingunder the reality; and all noblest Ceremony as yet not grown ceremonial, but solemn, significant to the outmost fringe! Neither, in modernprivate life, are theatrical scenes, of tearful women wetting whole ellsof cambric in concert, of impassioned bushy-whiskered youth threateningsuicide, and such like, to be so entirely detested: drop thou a tearover them thyself rather. At any rate, one can remark that no Nation will throw-by its work, anddeliberately go out to make a scene, without meaning something thereby. For indeed no scenic individual, with knavish hypocritical views, willtake the trouble to soliloquise a scene: and now consider, is not ascenic Nation placed precisely in that predicament of soliloquising;for its own behoof alone; to solace its own sensibilities, maudlin orother?--Yet in this respect, of readiness for scenes, the difference ofNations, as of men, is very great. If our Saxon-Puritanic friends, forexample, swore and signed their National Covenant, without discharge ofgunpowder, or the beating of any drum, in a dingy Covenant-Close of theEdinburgh High-street, in a mean room, where men now drink meanliquor, it was consistent with their ways so to swear it. OurGallic-Encyclopedic friends, again, must have a Champ-de-Mars, seen ofall the world, or universe; and such a Scenic Exhibition, to which theColiseum Amphitheatre was but a stroller's barn, as this old Globeof ours had never or hardly ever beheld. Which method also we reckonnatural, then and there. Nor perhaps was the respective keeping of thesetwo Oaths far out of due proportion to such respective display in takingthem: inverse proportion, namely. For the theatricality of a People goesin a compound-ratio: ratio indeed of their trustfulness, sociability, fervency; but then also of their excitability, of their porosity, notcontinent; or say, of their explosiveness, hot-flashing, but which doesnot last. How true also, once more, is it that no man or Nation of men, consciousof doing a great thing, was ever, in that thing, doing other than asmall one! O Champ-de-Mars Federation, with three hundred drummers, twelve hundred wind-musicians, and artillery planted on height afterheight to boom the tidings of it all over France, in few minutes! Couldno Atheist-Naigeon contrive to discern, eighteen centuries off, thoseThirteen most poor mean-dressed men, at frugal Supper, in a mean Jewishdwelling, with no symbol but hearts god-initiated into the 'Divine depthof Sorrow, ' and a Do this in remembrance of me;--and so cease that smalldifficult crowing of his, if he were not doomed to it? Chapter 2. 1. X. Mankind. Pardonable are human theatricalities; nay perhaps touching, like thepassionate utterance of a tongue which with sincerity stammers; of ahead which with insincerity babbles, --having gone distracted. Yet, in comparison with unpremeditated outbursts of Nature, such as anInsurrection of Women, how foisonless, unedifying, undelightful; likesmall ale palled, like an effervescence that has effervesced! Suchscenes, coming of forethought, were they world-great, and never socunningly devised, are at bottom mainly pasteboard and paint. But theothers are original; emitted from the great everliving heart of Natureherself: what figure they will assume is unspeakably significant. To us, therefore, let the French National Solemn League, and Federation, be thehighest recorded triumph of the Thespian Art; triumphant surely, sincethe whole Pit, which was of Twenty-five Millions, not only claps hands, but does itself spring on the boards and passionately set to playingthere. And being such, be it treated as such: with sincere cursoryadmiration; with wonder from afar. A whole Nation gone mumming deservesso much; but deserves not that loving minuteness a Menadic Insurrectiondid. Much more let prior, and as it were, rehearsal scenes of Federationcome and go, henceforward, as they list; and, on Plains and underCity-walls, innumerable regimental bands blare off into the Inane, without note from us. One scene, however, the hastiest reader will momentarily pause on: thatof Anacharsis Clootz and the Collective sinful Posterity of Adam. --Fora Patriot Municipality has now, on the 4th of June, got its planconcocted, and got it sanctioned by National Assembly; a Patriot Kingassenting; to whom, were he even free to dissent, Federative harangues, overflowing with loyalty, have doubtless a transient sweetness. Thereshall come Deputed National Guards, so many in the hundred, from eachof the Eighty-three Departments of France. Likewise from all Naval andMilitary King's Forces, shall Deputed quotas come; such Federationof National with Royal Soldier has, taking place spontaneously, beenalready seen and sanctioned. For the rest, it is hoped, as many as fortythousand may arrive: expenses to be borne by the Deputing District;of all which let District and Department take thought, and elect fitmen, --whom the Paris brethren will fly to meet and welcome. Now, therefore, judge if our Patriot Artists are busy; taking deepcounsel how to make the Scene worthy of a look from the Universe! Asmany as fifteen thousand men, spade-men, barrow-men, stone-builders, rammers, with their engineers, are at work on the Champ-de-Mars;hollowing it out into a natural Amphitheatre, fit for such solemnity. For one may hope it will be annual and perennial; a 'Feast of Pikes, Fete des Piques, ' notablest among the high-tides of the year: in anycase ought not a Scenic free Nation to have some permanent NationalAmphitheatre? The Champ-de-Mars is getting hollowed out; and the dailytalk and the nightly dream in most Parisian heads is of Federation, andthat only. Federate Deputies are already under way. National Assembly, what with its natural work, what with hearing and answering haranguesof Federates, of this Federation, will have enough to do! Harangue of'American Committee, ' among whom is that faint figure of Paul Jones 'aswith the stars dim-twinkling through it, '--come to congratulate us onthe prospect of such auspicious day. Harangue of Bastille Conquerors, come to 'renounce' any special recompense, any peculiar place at thesolemnity;--since the Centre Grenadiers rather grumble. Harangue of'Tennis-Court Club, ' who enter with far-gleaming Brass-plate, aloft ona pole, and the Tennis-Court Oath engraved thereon; which far gleamingBrass-plate they purpose to affix solemnly in the Versailles originallocality, on the 20th of this month, which is the anniversary, as adeathless memorial, for some years: they will then dine, as they comeback, in the Bois de Boulogne; (See Deux Amis, v. 122; Hist. Parl. &c. )--cannot, however, do it without apprising the world. To such thingsdoes the august National Assembly ever and anon cheerfully listen, suspending its regenerative labours; and with some touch of impromptueloquence, make friendly reply;--as indeed the wont has long been; forit is a gesticulating, sympathetic People, and has a heart, and wears iton its sleeve. In which circumstances, it occurred to the mind of Anacharsis Clootzthat while so much was embodying itself into Club or Committee, andperorating applauded, there yet remained a greater and greatest; ofwhich, if it also took body and perorated, what might not the effect be:Humankind namely, le Genre Humain itself! In what rapt creative momentthe Thought rose in Anacharsis's soul; all his throes, while he wentabout giving shape and birth to it; how he was sneered at by coldworldlings; but did sneer again, being a man of polished sarcasm; andmoved to and fro persuasive in coffeehouse and soiree, and dived downassiduous-obscure in the great deep of Paris, making his Thought a Fact:of all this the spiritual biographies of that period say nothing. Enoughthat on the 19th evening of June 1790, the Sun's slant rays lighted aspectacle such as our foolish little Planet has not often had to show:Anacharsis Clootz entering the august Salle de Manege, with the HumanSpecies at his heels. Swedes, Spaniards, Polacks; Turks, Chaldeans, Greeks, dwellers in Mesopotamia: behold them all; they have come toclaim place in the grand Federation, having an undoubted interest in it. "Our ambassador titles, " said the fervid Clootz, "are not writtenon parchment, but on the living hearts of all men. " These whiskeredPolacks, long-flowing turbaned Ishmaelites, astrological Chaldeans, who stand so mute here, let them plead with you, august Senators, moreeloquently than eloquence could. They are the mute representatives oftheir tongue-tied, befettered, heavy-laden Nations; who from out ofthat dark bewilderment gaze wistful, amazed, with half-incredulous hope, towards you, and this your bright light of a French Federation: brightparticular day-star, the herald of universal day. We claim to standthere, as mute monuments, pathetically adumbrative of much. --From benchand gallery comes 'repeated applause;' for what august Senator but isflattered even by the very shadow of Human Species depending on him?From President Sieyes, who presides this remarkable fortnight, in spiteof his small voice, there comes eloquent though shrill reply. Anacharsisand the 'Foreigners Committee' shall have place at the Federation; oncondition of telling their respective Peoples what they see there. Inthe mean time, we invite them to the 'honours of the sitting, honneurde la seance. ' A long-flowing Turk, for rejoinder, bows with Easternsolemnity, and utters articulate sounds: but owing to his imperfectknowledge of the French dialect, (Moniteur, &c. (in Hist. Parl. Xii. 283). ) his words are like spilt water; the thought he had in him remainsconjectural to this day. Anacharsis and Mankind accept the honours of the sitting; and haveforthwith, as the old Newspapers still testify, the satisfaction to seeseveral things. First and chief, on the motion of Lameth, Lafayette, Saint-Fargeau and other Patriot Nobles, let the others repugn as theywill: all Titles of Nobility, from Duke to Esquire, or lower, arehenceforth abolished. Then, in like manner, Livery Servants, or ratherthe Livery of Servants. Neither, for the future, shall any man or woman, self-styled noble, be 'incensed, '--foolishly fumigated with incense, inChurch; as the wont has been. In a word, Feudalism being dead these tenmonths, why should her empty trappings and scutcheons survive? The veryCoats-of-arms will require to be obliterated;--and yet CassandraMarat on this and the other coach-panel notices that they 'are butpainted-over, ' and threaten to peer through again. So that henceforth de Lafayette is but the Sieur Motier, andSaint-Fargeau is plain Michel Lepelletier; and Mirabeau soon afterhas to say huffingly, "With your Riquetti you have set Europe atcross-purposes for three days. " For his Counthood is not indifferent tothis man; which indeed the admiring People treat him with to the last. But let extreme Patriotism rejoice, and chiefly Anacharsis and Mankind;for now it seems to be taken for granted that one Adam is Father of usall!-- Such was, in historical accuracy, the famed feat of Anacharsis. Thus didthe most extensive of Public Bodies find a sort of spokesman. Whereby atleast we may judge of one thing: what a humour the once sniffing mockingCity of Paris and Baron Clootz had got into; when such exhibition couldappear a propriety, next door to a sublimity. It is true, Envy didin after times, pervert this success of Anacharsis; making him, fromincidental 'Speaker of the Foreign-Nations Committee, ' claim to beofficial permanent 'Speaker, Orateur, of the Human Species, ' which heonly deserved to be; and alleging, calumniously, that his astrologicalChaldeans, and the rest, were a mere French tag-rag-and-bobtaildisguised for the nonce; and, in short, sneering and fleering at himin her cold barren way; all which, however, he, the man he was, couldreceive on thick enough panoply, or even rebound therefrom, and also gohis way. Most extensive of Public Bodies, we may call it; and also the mostunexpected: for who could have thought to see All Nations in theTuileries Riding-Hall? But so it is; and truly as strange things mayhappen when a whole People goes mumming and miming. Hast not thouthyself perchance seen diademed Cleopatra, daughter of the Ptolemies, pleading, almost with bended knee, in unheroic tea-parlour, or dimlitretail-shop, to inflexible gross Burghal Dignitary, for leave toreign and die; being dressed for it, and moneyless, with smallchildren;--while suddenly Constables have shut the Thespian barn, andher Antony pleaded in vain? Such visual spectra flit across this Earth, if the Thespian Stage be rudely interfered with: but much more, when, as was said, Pit jumps on Stage, then is it verily, as in Herr Tieck'sDrama, a Verkehrte Welt, of World Topsyturvied! Having seen the Human Species itself, to have seen the 'Dean of theHuman Species, ' ceased now to be a miracle. Such 'Doyen du Genre Humain, Eldest of Men, ' had shewn himself there, in these weeks: Jean ClaudeJacob, a born Serf, deputed from his native Jura Mountains to thank theNational Assembly for enfranchising them. On his bleached worn face areploughed the furrowings of one hundred and twenty years. He has hearddim patois-talk, of immortal Grand-Monarch victories; of a burntPalatinate, as he toiled and moiled to make a little speck of this Earthgreener; of Cevennes Dragoonings; of Marlborough going to the war. Fourgenerations have bloomed out, and loved and hated, and rustled off:he was forty-six when Louis Fourteenth died. The Assembly, as one man, spontaneously rose, and did reverence to the Eldest of the World; oldJean is to take seance among them, honourably, with covered head. He gazes feebly there, with his old eyes, on that new wonder-scene;dreamlike to him, and uncertain, wavering amid fragments of old memoriesand dreams. For Time is all growing unsubstantial, dreamlike; Jean'seyes and mind are weary, and about to close, --and open on a far otherwonder-scene, which shall be real. Patriot Subscription, Royal Pensionwas got for him, and he returned home glad; but in two months more heleft it all, and went on his unknown way. (Deux Amis, iv. Iii. ) Chapter 2. 1. XI. As in the Age of Gold. Meanwhile to Paris, ever going and returning, day after day, and all daylong, towards that Field of Mars, it becomes painfully apparent that thespadework there cannot be got done in time. There is such an area of it;three hundred thousand square feet: for from the Ecole militaire (whichwill need to be done up in wood with balconies and galleries) westwardto the Gate by the river (where also shall be wood, in triumphalarches), we count same thousand yards of length; and for breadth, from this umbrageous Avenue of eight rows, on the South side, to thatcorresponding one on the North, some thousand feet, more or less. Allthis to be scooped out, and wheeled up in slope along the sides; highenough; for it must be rammed down there, and shaped stair-wise intoas many as 'thirty ranges of convenient seats, ' firm-trimmed withturf, covered with enduring timber;--and then our huge pyramidalFatherland's-Altar, Autel de la Patrie, in the centre, also to beraised and stair-stepped! Force-work with a vengeance; it is a World'sAmphitheatre! There are but fifteen days good; and at this languid rate, it might take half as many weeks. What is singular too, the spademenseem to work lazily; they will not work double-tides, even for offer ofmore wages, though their tide is but seven hours; they declare angrilythat the human tabernacle requires occasional rest! Is it Aristocrats secretly bribing? Aristocrats were capable of that. Only six months since, did not evidence get afloat that subterraneanParis, for we stand over quarries and catacombs, dangerously, as it weremidway between Heaven and the Abyss, and are hollow underground, --wascharged with gunpowder, which should make us 'leap?' Till a Cordelier'sDeputation actually went to examine, and found it--carried off again!(23rd December, 1789 (Newspapers in Hist. Parl. Iv. 44). ) An accursed, incurable brood; all asking for 'passports, ' in these sacred days. Trouble, of rioting, chateau-burning, is in the Limousin and elsewhere;for they are busy! Between the best of Peoples and the best ofRestorer-Kings, they would sow grudges; with what a fiend's-grin wouldthey see this Federation, looked for by the Universe, fail! Fail for want of spadework, however, it shall not. He that has fourlimbs, and a French heart, can do spadework; and will! On the firstJuly Monday, scarcely has the signal-cannon boomed; scarcely have thelanguescent mercenary Fifteen Thousand laid down their tools, and theeyes of onlookers turned sorrowfully of the still high Sun; when thisand the other Patriot, fire in his eye, snatches barrow and mattock, and himself begins indignantly wheeling. Whom scores and then hundredsfollow; and soon a volunteer Fifteen Thousand are shovelling andtrundling; with the heart of giants; and all in right order, with thatextemporaneous adroitness of theirs: whereby such a lift has beengiven, worth three mercenary ones;--which may end when the late twilightthickens, in triumph shouts, heard or heard of beyond Montmartre! A sympathetic population will wait, next day, with eagerness, till thetools are free. Or why wait? Spades elsewhere exist! And so now burstsforth that effulgence of Parisian enthusiasm, good-heartedness andbrotherly love; such, if Chroniclers are trustworthy, as was notwitnessed since the Age of Gold. Paris, male and female, precipitatesitself towards its South-west extremity, spade on shoulder. Streams ofmen, without order; or in order, as ranked fellow-craftsmen, as naturalor accidental reunions, march towards the Field of Mars. Three-deepthese march; to the sound of stringed music; preceded by young girlswith green boughs, and tricolor streamers: they have shouldered, soldier-wise, their shovels and picks; and with one throat are singingca-ira. Yes, pardieu ca-ira, cry the passengers on the streets. Allcorporate Guilds, and public and private Bodies of Citizens, from thehighest to the lowest, march; the very Hawkers, one finds, have ceasedbawling for one day. The neighbouring Villages turn out: their able mencome marching, to village fiddle or tambourine and triangle, under theirMayor, or Mayor and Curate, who also walk bespaded, and in tricolorsash. As many as one hundred and fifty thousand workers: nay at certainseasons, as some count, two hundred and fifty thousand; for, in theafternoon especially, what mortal but, finishing his hasty day's work, would run! A stirring city: from the time you reach the Place LouisQuinze, southward over the River, by all Avenues, it is one livingthrong. So many workers; and no mercenary mock-workers, but real onesthat lie freely to it: each Patriot stretches himself against thestubborn glebe; hews and wheels with the whole weight that is in him. Amiable infants, aimables enfans! They do the 'police des l'atelier'too, the guidance and governance, themselves; with that ready will oftheirs, with that extemporaneous adroitness. It is a true brethren'swork; all distinctions confounded, abolished; as it was in thebeginning, when Adam himself delved. Longfrocked tonsured Monks, with short-skirted Water-carriers, with swallow-tailed well-frizzledIncroyables of a Patriot turn; dark Charcoalmen, meal-whitePeruke-makers; or Peruke-wearers, for Advocate and Judge are there, andall Heads of Districts: sober Nuns sisterlike with flaunting Nymphs ofthe Opera, and females in common circumstances named unfortunate: thepatriot Rag-picker, and perfumed dweller in palaces; for Patriotismlike New-birth, and also like Death, levels all. The Printers havecome marching, Prudhomme's all in Paper-caps with Revolutions de Parisprinted on them; as Camille notes; wishing that in these great daysthere should be a Pacte des Ecrivains too, or Federation of AbleEditors. (See Newspapers, &c. (in Hist. Parl. Vi. 381-406). ) Beautifulto see! The snowy linen and delicate pantaloon alternates with thesoiled check-shirt and bushel-breeches; for both have cast their coats, and under both are four limbs and a set of Patriot muscles. Theredo they pick and shovel; or bend forward, yoked in long strings tobox-barrow or overloaded tumbril; joyous, with one mind. Abbe Sieyes isseen pulling, wiry, vehement, if too light for draught; by the side ofBeauharnais, who shall get Kings though he be none. Abbe Maury did notpull; but the Charcoalmen brought a mummer guised like him, so he hadto pull in effigy. Let no august Senator disdain the work: Mayor Bailly, Generalissimo Lafayette are there;--and, alas, shall be there againanother day! The King himself comes to see: sky-rending Vive-le-Roi;'and suddenly with shouldered spades they form a guard of honour roundhim. ' Whosoever can come comes, to work, or to look, and bless the work. Whole families have come. One whole family we see clearly, of threegenerations: the father picking, the mother shovelling, the young oneswheeling assiduous; old grandfather, hoary with ninety-three years, holds in his arms the youngest of all: (Mercier. Ii. 76, &c. ) frisky, not helpful this one; who nevertheless may tell it to his grandchildren;and how the Future and the Past alike looked on, and with failing orwith half-formed voice, faltered their ca-ira. A vintner has wheeled in, on Patriot truck, beverage of wine: "Drink not, my brothers, if ye arenot dry; that your cask may last the longer;" neither did any drink, but men 'evidently exhausted. ' A dapper Abbe looks on, sneering. "Tothe barrow!" cry several; whom he, lest a worse thing befal him, obeys:nevertheless one wiser Patriot barrowman, arriving now, interposes his"arretez;" setting down his own barrow, he snatches the Abbe's; trundlesit fast, like an infected thing; forth of the Champ-de-Mars circuit, and discharges it there. Thus too a certain person (of some quality, orprivate capital, to appearance), entering hastily, flings down his coat, waistcoat and two watches, and is rushing to the thick of the work:"But your watches?" cries the general voice. --"Does one distrust hisbrothers?" answers he; nor were the watches stolen. How beautiful isnoble-sentiment: like gossamer gauze, beautiful and cheap; which willstand no tear and wear! Beautiful cheap gossamer gauze, thou film-shadowof a raw-material of Virtue, which art not woven, nor likely to be, intoDuty; thou art better than nothing, and also worse! Young Boarding-school Boys, College Students, shout Vive la Nation, andregret that they have yet 'only their sweat to give. ' What say weof Boys? Beautifullest Hebes; the loveliest of Paris, in their lightair-robes, with riband-girdle of tricolor, are there; shovelling andwheeling with the rest; their Hebe eyes brighter with enthusiasm, and long hair in beautiful dishevelment: hard-pressed are their smallfingers; but they make the patriot barrow go, and even force it to thesummit of the slope (with a little tracing, which what man's arm werenot too happy to lend?)--then bound down with it again, and go for more;with their long locks and tricolors blown back: graceful as the rosyHours. O, as that evening Sun fell over the Champ-de-Mars, and tintedwith fire the thick umbrageous boscage that shelters it on this hand andon that, and struck direct on those Domes and two-and-forty Windows ofthe Ecole Militaire, and made them all of burnished gold, --saw he on hiswide zodiac road other such sight? A living garden spotted and dottedwith such flowerage; all colours of the prism; the beautifullest blentfriendly with the usefullest; all growing and working brotherlike there, under one warm feeling, were it but for days; once and no second time!But Night is sinking; these Nights too, into Eternity. The hastiestTraveller Versailles-ward has drawn bridle on the heights of Chaillot:and looked for moments over the River; reporting at Versailles what hesaw, not without tears. (Mercier, ii. 81. ) Meanwhile, from all points of the compass, Federates are arriving:fervid children of the South, 'who glory in their Mirabeau;' considerateNorth-blooded Mountaineers of Jura; sharp Bretons, with their Gaelicsuddenness; Normans not to be overreached in bargain: all now animatedwith one noblest fire of Patriotism. Whom the Paris brethren march forthto receive; with military solemnities, with fraternal embracing, anda hospitality worthy of the heroic ages. They assist at the Assembly'sDebates, these Federates: the Galleries are reserved for them. Theyassist in the toils of the Champ-de-Mars; each new troop will put itshand to the spade; lift a hod of earth on the Altar of the Fatherland. But the flourishes of rhetoric, for it is a gesticulating People; themoral-sublime of those Addresses to an august Assembly, to a PatriotRestorer! Our Breton Captain of Federates kneels even, in a fit ofenthusiasm, and gives up his sword; he wet-eyed to a King wet-eyed. PoorLouis! These, as he said afterwards, were among the bright days of hislife. Reviews also there must be; royal Federate-reviews, with King, Queen andtricolor Court looking on: at lowest, if, as is too common, it rains, our Federate Volunteers will file through the inner gateways, Royaltystanding dry. Nay there, should some stop occur, the beautifullestfingers in France may take you softly by the lapelle, and, in mildflute-voice, ask: "Monsieur, of what Province are you?" Happy he whocan reply, chivalrously lowering his sword's point, "Madame, fromthe Province your ancestors reigned over. " He that happy 'ProvincialAdvocate, ' now Provincial Federate, shall be rewarded by a sun-smile, and such melodious glad words addressed to a King: "Sire, these areyour faithful Lorrainers. " Cheerier verily, in these holidays, is this'skyblue faced with red' of a National Guardsman, than the dull blackand gray of a Provincial Advocate, which in workdays one was used to. For the same thrice-blessed Lorrainer shall, this evening, stand sentryat a Queen's door; and feel that he could die a thousand deaths for her:then again, at the outer gate, and even a third time, she shall see him;nay he will make her do it; presenting arms with emphasis, 'makinghis musket jingle again': and in her salute there shall again be asun-smile, and that little blonde-locked too hasty Dauphin shall beadmonished, "Salute then, Monsieur, don't be unpolite;" and therewithshe, like a bright Sky-wanderer or Planet with her little Moon, issuesforth peculiar. (Narrative by a Lorraine Federate (given in Hist. Parl. Vi. 389-91). ) But at night, when Patriot spadework is over, figure the sacred rightsof hospitality! Lepelletier Saint-Fargeau, a mere private senator, butwith great possessions, has daily his 'hundred dinner-guests;' the tableof Generalissimo Lafayette may double that number. In lowly parlour, as in lofty saloon, the wine-cup passes round; crowned by the smiles ofBeauty; be it of lightly-tripping Grisette, or of high-sailing Dame, forboth equally have beauty, and smiles precious to the brave. Chapter 2. 1. XII. Sound and Smoke. And so now, in spite of plotting Aristocrats, lazy hired spademen, and almost of Destiny itself (for there has been much rain), theChamp-de-Mars, on the 13th of the month is fairly ready; trimmed, rammed, buttressed with firm masonry; and Patriotism can stroll overit admiring; and as it were rehearsing, for in every head is someunutterable image of the morrow. Pray Heaven there be not clouds. Naywhat far worse cloud is this, of a misguided Municipality that talks ofadmitting Patriotism, to the solemnity, by tickets! Was it by tickets wewere admitted to the work; and to what brought the work? Did we take theBastille by tickets? A misguided Municipality sees the error; at latemidnight, rolling drums announce to Patriotism starting half out ofits bed-clothes, that it is to be ticketless. Pull down thy night-captherefore; and, with demi-articulate grumble, significant of severalthings, go pacified to sleep again. Tomorrow is Wednesday morning;unforgetable among the fasti of the world. The morning comes, cold for a July one; but such a festivity would makeGreenland smile. Through every inlet of that National Amphitheatre(for it is a league in circuit, cut with openings at due intervals), floods-in the living throng; covers without tumult space after space. The Ecole Militaire has galleries and overvaulting canopies, whereCarpentry and Painting have vied, for the upper Authorities; triumphalarches, at the Gate by the River, bear inscriptions, if weak, yetwell-meant, and orthodox. Far aloft, over the Altar of the Fatherland, on their tall crane standards of iron, swing pensile our antiqueCassolettes or pans of incense; dispensing sweet incense-fumes, --unlessfor the Heathen Mythology, one sees not for whom. Two hundred thousandPatriotic Men; and, twice as good, one hundred thousand PatrioticWomen, all decked and glorified as one can fancy, sit waiting in thisChamp-de-Mars. What a picture: that circle of bright-eyed Life, spread up there, onits thirty-seated Slope; leaning, one would say, on the thick umbrage ofthose Avenue-Trees, for the stems of them are hidden by the height; andall beyond it mere greenness of Summer Earth, with the gleams of waters, or white sparklings of stone-edifices: little circular enamel-picture inthe centre of such a vase--of emerald! A vase not empty: the InvalidesCupolas want not their population, nor the distant Windmills ofMontmartre; on remotest steeple and invisible village belfry, standmen with spy-glasses. On the heights of Chaillot are many-colouredundulating groups; round and far on, over all the circling heights thatembosom Paris, it is as one more or less peopled Amphitheatre; which theeye grows dim with measuring. Nay heights, as was before hinted, havecannon; and a floating-battery of cannon is on the Seine. When eyefails, ear shall serve; and all France properly is but one Amphitheatre:for in paved town and unpaved hamlet, men walk listening; till themuffled thunder sound audible on their horizon, that they too may beginswearing and firing! (Deux Amis, v. 168. ) But now, to streams ofmusic, come Federates enough, --for they have assembled on the BoulevardSaint-Antoine or thereby, and come marching through the City, with theirEighty-three Department Banners, and blessings not loud but deep; comesNational Assembly, and takes seat under its Canopy; comes Royalty, andtakes seat on a throne beside it. And Lafayette, on white charger, ishere, and all the civic Functionaries; and the Federates form dances, till their strictly military evolutions and manoeuvres can begin. Evolutions and manoeuvres? Task not the pen of mortal to describe them:truant imagination droops;--declares that it is not worth while. Thereis wheeling and sweeping, to slow, to quick, and double quick-time:Sieur Motier, or Generalissimo Lafayette, for they are one and the same, and he is General of France, in the King's stead, for four-and-twentyhours; Sieur Motier must step forth, with that sublime chivalrous gaitof his; solemnly ascend the steps of the Fatherland's Altar, in sightof Heaven and of the scarcely breathing Earth; and, under the creak ofthose swinging Cassolettes, 'pressing his sword's point firmly there, 'pronounce the Oath, To King, to Law, and Nation (not to mention 'grains'with their circulating), in his own name and that of armed France. Whereat there is waving of banners and acclaim sufficient. The NationalAssembly must swear, standing in its place; the King himself audibly. The King swears; and now be the welkin split with vivats; let citizensenfranchised embrace, each smiting heartily his palm into his fellow's;and armed Federates clang their arms; above all, that floating batteryspeak! It has spoken, --to the four corners of France. From eminence toeminence, bursts the thunder; faint-heard, loud-repeated. What a stone, cast into what a lake; in circles that do not grow fainter. From Arrasto Avignon; from Metz to Bayonne! Over Orleans and Blois it rolls, incannon-recitative; Puy bellows of it amid his granite mountains; Pauwhere is the shell-cradle of Great Henri. At far Marseilles, one canthink, the ruddy evening witnesses it; over the deep-blue Mediterraneanwaters, the Castle of If ruddy-tinted darts forth, from every cannon'smouth, its tongue of fire; and all the people shout: Yes, France isfree. O glorious France that has burst out so; into universal sound andsmoke; and attained--the Phrygian Cap of Liberty! In all Towns, Trees ofLiberty also may be planted; with or without advantage. Said we not, itis the highest stretch attained by the Thespian Art on this Planet, orperhaps attainable? The Thespian Art, unfortunately, one must still call it; for beholdthere, on this Field of Mars, the National Banners, before there couldbe any swearing, were to be all blessed. A most proper operation;since surely without Heaven's blessing bestowed, say even, audibly orinaudibly sought, no Earthly banner or contrivance can prove victorious:but now the means of doing it? By what thrice-divine Franklinthunder-rod shall miraculous fire be drawn out of Heaven; and descendgently, life-giving, with health to the souls of men? Alas, by thesimplest: by Two Hundred shaven-crowned Individuals, 'in snow-whitealbs, with tricolor girdles, ' arranged on the steps of Fatherland'sAltar; and, at their head for spokesman, Soul's OverseerTalleyrand-Perigord! These shall act as miraculous thunder-rod, --to suchlength as they can. O ye deep azure Heavens, and thou green all-nursingEarth; ye Streams ever-flowing; deciduous Forests that die and are bornagain, continually, like the sons of men; stone Mountains that die dailywith every rain-shower, yet are not dead and levelled for ages ofages, nor born again (it seems) but with new world-explosions, and suchtumultuous seething and tumbling, steam half way to the Moon; O thouunfathomable mystic All, garment and dwellingplace of the UNNAMED; Ospirit, lastly, of Man, who mouldest and modellest that UnfathomableUnnameable even as we see, --is not there a miracle: That some Frenchmortal should, we say not have believed, but pretended to imagine thathe believed that Talleyrand and Two Hundred pieces of white Calico coulddo it! Here, however, we are to remark with the sorrowing Historians of thatday, that suddenly, while Episcopus Talleyrand, long-stoled, with mitreand tricolor belt, was yet but hitching up the Altar-steps, to do hismiracle, the material Heaven grew black; a north-wind, moaning coldmoisture, began to sing; and there descended a very deluge of rain. Sad to see! The thirty-staired Seats, all round our Amphitheatre, getinstantaneously slated with mere umbrellas, fallacious when so thickset: our antique Cassolettes become Water-pots; their incense-smoke gonehissing, in a whiff of muddy vapour. Alas, instead of vivats, there isnothing now but the furious peppering and rattling. From three to fourhundred thousand human individuals feel that they have a skin; happilyimpervious. The General's sash runs water: how all military bannersdroop; and will not wave, but lazily flap, as if metamorphosed intopainted tin-banners! Worse, far worse, these hundred thousand, such isthe Historian's testimony, of the fairest of France! Their snowy muslinsall splashed and draggled; the ostrich feather shrunk shamefully to thebackbone of a feather: all caps are ruined; innermost pasteboardmolten into its original pap: Beauty no longer swims decorated in hergarniture, like Love-goddess hidden-revealed in her Paphian clouds, but struggles in disastrous imprisonment in it, for 'the shape wasnoticeable;' and now only sympathetic interjections, titterings, teeheeings, and resolute good-humour will avail. A deluge; an incessantsheet or fluid-column of rain;--such that our Overseer's very mitremust be filled; not a mitre, but a filled and leaky fire-bucket on hisreverend head!--Regardless of which, Overseer Talleyrand performs hismiracle: the Blessing of Talleyrand, another than that of Jacob, is onall the Eighty-three departmental flags of France; which wave or flap, with such thankfulness as needs. Towards three o'clock, the sun beamsout again: the remaining evolutions can be transacted under brightheavens, though with decorations much damaged. (Deux Amis, v. 143-179. ) On Wednesday our Federation is consummated: but the festivities last outthe week, and over into the next. Festivities such as no Bagdad Caliph, or Aladdin with the Lamp, could have equalled. There is a Joustingon the River; with its water-somersets, splashing and haha-ing: AbbeFauchet, Te-Deum Fauchet, preaches, for his part, in 'the rotunda of theCorn-market, ' a Harangue on Franklin; for whom the National Assembly haslately gone three days in black. The Motier and Lepelletier tables stillgroan with viands; roofs ringing with patriotic toasts. On the fifthevening, which is the Christian Sabbath, there is a universal Ball. Paris, out of doors and in, man, woman and child, is jigging it, to thesound of harp and four-stringed fiddle. The hoariest-headed man willtread one other measure, under this nether Moon; speechless nurselings, infants as we call them, (Greek), crow in arms; and sprawl outnumb-plump little limbs, --impatient for muscularity, they know not why. The stiffest balk bends more or less; all joists creak. Or out, on the Earth's breast itself, behold the Ruins of the Bastille. All lamplit, allegorically decorated: a Tree of Liberty sixty feet high;and Phrygian Cap on it, of size enormous, under which King Arthur andhis round-table might have dined! In the depths of the background, isa single lugubrious lamp, rendering dim-visible one of your iron cages, half-buried, and some Prison stones, --Tyranny vanishing downwards, allgone but the skirt: the rest wholly lamp-festoons, trees real or ofpasteboard; in the similitude of a fairy grove; with this inscription, readable to runner: 'Ici l'on danse, Dancing Here. ' As indeed had beenobscurely foreshadowed by Cagliostro (See his Lettre au Peuple Francais, London, 1786. ) prophetic Quack of Quacks, when he, four years ago, quitted the grim durance;--to fall into a grimmer, of the RomanInquisition, and not quit it. But, after all, what is this Bastille business to that of the ChampsElysees! Thither, to these Fields well named Elysian, all feet tend. Itis radiant as day with festooned lamps; little oil-cups, like variegatedfire-flies, daintily illumine the highest leaves: trees there are allsheeted with variegated fire, shedding far a glimmer into the dubiouswood. There, under the free sky, do tight-limbed Federates, with fairestnewfound sweethearts, elastic as Diana, and not of that coyness and tarthumour of Diana, thread their jocund mazes, all through the ambrosialnight; and hearts were touched and fired; and seldom surely had our oldPlanet, in that huge conic Shadow of hers 'which goes beyond the Moon, and is named Night, ' curtained such a Ball-room. O if, according toSeneca, the very gods look down on a good man struggling with adversity, and smile; what must they think of Five-and-twenty million indifferentones victorious over it, --for eight days and more? In this way, and in such ways, however, has the Feast of Pikes danceditself off; gallant Federates wending homewards, towards every point ofthe compass, with feverish nerves, heart and head much heated; someof them, indeed, as Dampmartin's elderly respectable friend, fromStrasbourg, quite 'burnt out with liquors, ' and flickering towardsextinction. (Dampmartin, Evenemens, i. 144-184. ) The Feast of Pikeshas danced itself off, and become defunct, and the ghost of aFeast;--nothing of it now remaining but this vision in men's memory; andthe place that knew it (for the slope of that Champ-de-Mars is crumbledto half the original height (Dulaure, Histoire de Paris, viii. 25). )now knowing it no more. Undoubtedly one of the memorablest NationalHightides. Never or hardly ever, as we said, was Oath sworn with suchheart-effusion, emphasis and expenditure of joyance; and then it wasbroken irremediably within year and day. Ah, why? When the swearing ofit was so heavenly-joyful, bosom clasped to bosom, and Five-and-twentymillion hearts all burning together: O ye inexorable Destinies, why?--Partly because it was sworn with such over-joyance; but chiefly, indeed, for an older reason: that Sin had come into the world and Miseryby Sin! These Five-and-twenty millions, if we will consider it, havenow henceforth, with that Phrygian Cap of theirs, no force over them, tobind and guide; neither in them, more than heretofore, is guiding force, or rule of just living: how then, while they all go rushing at such apace, on unknown ways, with no bridle, towards no aim, can hurlyburlyunutterable fail? For verily not Federation-rosepink is the colour ofthis Earth and her work: not by outbursts of noble-sentiment, but withfar other ammunition, shall a man front the world. But how wise, in all cases, to 'husband your fire;' to keep it deepdown, rather, as genial radical-heat! Explosions, the forciblest, andnever so well directed, are questionable; far oftenest futile, alwaysfrightfully wasteful: but think of a man, of a Nation of men, spendingits whole stock of fire in one artificial Firework! So have we seenfond weddings (for individuals, like Nations, have their Hightides)celebrated with an outburst of triumph and deray, at which the elderlyshook their heads. Better had a serious cheerfulness been; for theenterprise was great. Fond pair! the more triumphant ye feel, andvictorious over terrestrial evil, which seems all abolished, thewider-eyed will your disappointment be to find terrestrial evil stillextant. "And why extant?" will each of you cry: "Because my false matehas played the traitor: evil was abolished; I meant faithfully, and did, or would have done. " Whereby the oversweet moon of honey changes itselfinto long years of vinegar; perhaps divulsive vinegar, like Hannibal's. Shall we say then, the French Nation has led Royalty, or wooed andteased poor Royalty to lead her, to the hymeneal Fatherland's Altar, in such oversweet manner; and has, most thoughtlessly, to celebrate thenuptials with due shine and demonstration, --burnt her bed? BOOK 2. II. NANCI Chapter 2. 2. I. Bouille. Dimly visible, at Metz on the North-Eastern frontier, a certain braveBouille, last refuge of Royalty in all straits and meditations offlight, has for many months hovered occasionally in our eye; some nameor shadow of a brave Bouille: let us now, for a little, look fixedly athim, till he become a substance and person for us. The man himself isworth a glance; his position and procedure there, in these days, willthrow light on many things. For it is with Bouille as with all French Commanding Officers; only ina more emphatic degree. The grand National Federation, we already guess, was but empty sound, or worse: a last loudest universalHep-hep-hurrah, with full bumpers, in that National Lapithae-feast ofConstitution-making; as in loud denial of the palpably existing; as if, with hurrahings, you would shut out notice of the inevitable alreadyknocking at the gates! Which new National bumper, one may say, can butdeepen the drunkenness; and so, the louder it swears Brotherhood, willthe sooner and the more surely lead to Cannibalism. Ah, under thatfraternal shine and clangour, what a deep world of irreconcileablediscords lie momentarily assuaged, damped down for one moment!Respectable military Federates have barely got home to their quarters;and the inflammablest, 'dying, burnt up with liquors, and kindness, ' hasnot yet got extinct; the shine is hardly out of men's eyes, and stillblazes filling all men's memories, --when your discords burst forth againvery considerably darker than ever. Let us look at Bouille, and see how. Bouille for the present commands in the Garrison of Metz, and far andwide over the East and North; being indeed, by a late act of Governmentwith sanction of National Assembly, appointed one of our Four supremeGenerals. Rochambeau and Mailly, men and Marshals of note in thesedays, though to us of small moment, are two of his colleagues; toughold babbling Luckner, also of small moment for us, will probably bethe third. Marquis de Bouille is a determined Loyalist; not indeeddisinclined to moderate reform, but resolute against immoderate. A manlong suspect to Patriotism; who has more than once given the augustAssembly trouble; who would not, for example, take the National Oath, ashe was bound to do, but always put it off on this or the other pretext, till an autograph of Majesty requested him to do it as a favour. There, in this post if not of honour, yet of eminence and danger, he waits, ina silent concentered manner; very dubious of the future. 'Alone, ' as hesays, or almost alone, of all the old military Notabilities, he has notemigrated; but thinks always, in atrabiliar moments, that there will benothing for him too but to cross the marches. He might cross, say, toTreves or Coblentz where Exiled Princes will be one day ranking; orsay, over into Luxemburg where old Broglie loiters and languishes. Or isthere not the great dim Deep of European Diplomacy; where your Calonnes, your Breteuils are beginning to hover, dimly discernible? With immeasurable confused outlooks and purposes, with no clear purposebut this of still trying to do His Majesty a service, Bouille waits;struggling what he can to keep his district loyal, his troops faithful, his garrisons furnished. He maintains, as yet, with his CousinLafayette, some thin diplomatic correspondence, by letter and messenger;chivalrous constitutional professions on the one side, military gravityand brevity on the other; which thin correspondence one can see growingever the thinner and hollower, towards the verge of entire vacuity. (Bouille, Memoires (London, 1797), i. C. 8. ) A quick, choleric, sharplydiscerning, stubbornly endeavouring man; with suppressed-explosiveresolution, with valour, nay headlong audacity: a man who was more inhis place, lionlike defending those Windward Isles, or, as with militarytiger-spring, clutching Nevis and Montserrat from the English, --thanhere in this suppressed condition, muzzled and fettered by diplomaticpackthreads; looking out for a civil war, which may never arrive. Fewyears ago Bouille was to have led a French East-Indian Expedition, andreconquered or conquered Pondicherri and the Kingdoms of the Sun: butthe whole world is suddenly changed, and he with it; Destiny willed itnot in that way but in this. Chapter 2. 2. II. Arrears and Aristocrats. Indeed, as to the general outlook of things, Bouille himself augurs notwell of it. The French Army, ever since those old Bastille days, andearlier, has been universally in the questionablest state, and growingdaily worse. Discipline, which is at all times a kind of miracle, andworks by faith, broke down then; one sees not with that near prospect ofrecovering itself. The Gardes Francaises played a deadly game; but howthey won it, and wear the prizes of it, all men know. In that generaloverturn, we saw the Hired Fighters refuse to fight. The very Swiss ofChateau-Vieux, which indeed is a kind of French Swiss, from Geneva andthe Pays de Vaud, are understood to have declined. Deserters glidedover; Royal-Allemand itself looked disconsolate, though stanch ofpurpose. In a word, we there saw Military Rule, in the shape of poorBesenval with that convulsive unmanageable Camp of his, pass two martyrdays on the Champ-de-Mars; and then, veiling itself, so to speak, 'underthe cloud of night, ' depart 'down the left bank of the Seine, ' to seekrefuge elsewhere; this ground having clearly become too hot for it. But what new ground to seek, what remedy to try? Quarters that were'uninfected:' this doubtless, with judicious strictness of drilling, were the plan. Alas, in all quarters and places, from Paris onward tothe remotest hamlet, is infection, is seditious contagion: inhaled, propagated by contact and converse, till the dullest soldier catchit! There is speech of men in uniform with men not in uniform; men inuniform read journals, and even write in them. (See Newspapers ofJuly, 1789 (in Hist. Parl. Ii. 35), &c. ) There are public petitions orremonstrances, private emissaries and associations; there is discontent, jealousy, uncertainty, sullen suspicious humour. The whole French Army, fermenting in dark heat, glooms ominous, boding good to no one. So that, in the general social dissolution and revolt, we are to havethis deepest and dismallest kind of it, a revolting soldiery? Barren, desolate to look upon is this same business of revolt under all itsaspects; but how infinitely more so, when it takes the aspect ofmilitary mutiny! The very implement of rule and restraint, wherebyall the rest was managed and held in order, has become precisely thefrightfullest immeasurable implement of misrule; like the elementof Fire, our indispensable all-ministering servant, when it gets themastery, and becomes conflagration. Discipline we called a kind ofmiracle: in fact, is it not miraculous how one man moves hundreds ofthousands; each unit of whom it may be loves him not, and singly fearshim not, yet has to obey him, to go hither or go thither, to march andhalt, to give death, and even to receive it, as if a Fate had spoken;and the word-of-command becomes, almost in the literal sense, amagic-word? Which magic-word, again, if it be once forgotten; the spell of it oncebroken! The legions of assiduous ministering spirits rise on you now asmenacing fiends; your free orderly arena becomes a tumult-place of theNether Pit, and the hapless magician is rent limb from limb. Militarymobs are mobs with muskets in their hands; and also with death hangingover their heads, for death is the penalty of disobedience and theyhave disobeyed. And now if all mobs are properly frenzies, and workfrenetically with mad fits of hot and of cold, fierce rage alternatingso incoherently with panic terror, consider what your military mobwill be, with such a conflict of duties and penalties, whirled betweenremorse and fury, and, for the hot fit, loaded fire-arms in its hand! Tothe soldier himself, revolt is frightful, and oftenest perhaps pitiable;and yet so dangerous, it can only be hated, cannot be pitied. Ananomalous class of mortals these poor Hired Killers! With a frankness, which to the Moralist in these times seems surprising, they have swornto become machines; and nevertheless they are still partly men. Let noprudent person in authority remind them of this latter fact; but alwayslet force, let injustice above all, stop short clearly on this side ofthe rebounding-point! Soldiers, as we often say, do revolt: were it notso, several things which are transient in this world might be perennial. Over and above the general quarrel which all sons of Adam maintainwith their lot here below, the grievances of the French soldiery reducethemselves to two, First that their Officers are Aristocrats; secondlythat they cheat them of their Pay. Two grievances; or rather we mightsay one, capable of becoming a hundred; for in that single firstproposition, that the Officers are Aristocrats, what a multitude ofcorollaries lie ready! It is a bottomless ever-flowing fountain ofgrievances this; what you may call a general raw-material of grievance, wherefrom individual grievance after grievance will daily body itselfforth. Nay there will even be a kind of comfort in getting it, fromtime to time, so embodied. Peculation of one's Pay! It is embodied; madetangible, made denounceable; exhalable, if only in angry words. For unluckily that grand fountain of grievances does exist: Aristocratsalmost all our Officers necessarily are; they have it in the blood andbone. By the law of the case, no man can pretend to be the pitifullestlieutenant of militia, till he have first verified, to the satisfactionof the Lion-King, a Nobility of four generations. Not Nobility only, but four generations of it: this latter is the improvement hit upon, in comparatively late years, by a certain War-minister much pressed forcommissions. (Dampmartin, Evenemens, i. 89. ) An improvement which didrelieve the over-pressed War-minister, but which split France stillfurther into yawning contrasts of Commonalty and Nobility, nay of newNobility and old; as if already with your new and old, and then withyour old, older and oldest, there were not contrasts and discrepanciesenough;--the general clash whereof men now see and hear, and in thesingular whirlpool, all contrasts gone together to the bottom! Gone tothe bottom or going; with uproar, without return; going every where savein the Military section of things; and there, it may be asked, can theyhope to continue always at the top? Apparently, not. It is true, in a time of external Peace, when there is no fighting butonly drilling, this question, How you rise from the ranks, may seemtheoretical rather. But in reference to the Rights of Man it iscontinually practical. The soldier has sworn to be faithful not to theKing only, but to the Law and the Nation. Do our commanders love theRevolution? ask all soldiers. Unhappily no, they hate it, and love theCounter-Revolution. Young epauletted men, with quality-blood inthem, poisoned with quality-pride, do sniff openly, with indignationstruggling to become contempt, at our Rights of Man, as at somenewfangled cobweb, which shall be brushed down again. Old officers, morecautious, keep silent, with closed uncurled lips; but one guesses whatis passing within. Nay who knows, how, under the plausiblest word ofcommand, might lie Counter-Revolution itself, sale to Exiled Princesand the Austrian Kaiser: treacherous Aristocrats hoodwinking thesmall insight of us common men?--In such manner works that generalraw-material of grievance; disastrous; instead of trust and reverence, breeding hate, endless suspicion, the impossibility of commandingand obeying. And now when this second more tangible grievance hasarticulated itself universally in the mind of the common man: Peculationof his Pay! Peculation of the despicablest sort does exist, and haslong existed; but, unless the new-declared Rights of Man, and all rightswhatsoever, be a cobweb, it shall no longer exist. The French Military System seems dying a sorrowful suicidal death. Naymore, citizen, as is natural, ranks himself against citizen in thiscause. The soldier finds audience, of numbers and sympathy unlimited, among the Patriot lower-classes. Nor are the higher wanting to theofficer. The officer still dresses and perfumes himself for such sadunemigrated soiree as there may still be; and speaks his woes, --whichwoes, are they not Majesty's and Nature's? Speaks, at the same time, his gay defiance, his firm-set resolution. Citizens, still moreCitizenesses, see the right and the wrong; not the Military System alonewill die by suicide, but much along with it. As was said, there is yetpossible a deepest overturn than any yet witnessed: that deepest upturnof the black-burning sulphurous stratum whereon all rests and grows! But how these things may act on the rude soldier-mind, with its militarypedantries, its inexperience of all that lies off the parade-ground;inexperience as of a child, yet fierceness of a man and vehemence ofa Frenchman! It is long that secret communings in mess-room andguard-room, sour looks, thousandfold petty vexations between commanderand commanded, measure every where the weary military day. Ask CaptainDampmartin; an authentic, ingenious literary officer of horse; who lovesthe Reign of Liberty, after a sort; yet has had his heart grieved to thequick many times, in the hot South-Western region and elsewhere; andhas seen riot, civil battle by daylight and by torchlight, and anarchyhatefuller than death. How insubordinate Troopers, with drink in theirheads, meet Captain Dampmartin and another on the ramparts, where thereis no escape or side-path; and make military salute punctually, for welook calm on them; yet make it in a snappish, almost insulting manner:how one morning they 'leave all their chamois shirts' and superfluousbuffs, which they are tired of, laid in piles at the Captain's doors;whereat 'we laugh, ' as the ass does, eating thistles: nay how they 'knottwo forage-cords together, ' with universal noisy cursing, with evidentintent to hang the Quarter-master:--all this the worthy Captain, looking on it through the ruddy-and-sable of fond regretful memory, hasflowingly written down. (Dampmartin, Evenemens, i. 122-146. ) Men growlin vague discontent; officers fling up their commissions, and emigratein disgust. Or let us ask another literary Officer; not yet Captain; Sublieutenantonly, in the Artillery Regiment La Fere: a young man of twenty-one; notunentitled to speak; the name of him is Napoleon Buonaparte. To suchheight of Sublieutenancy has he now got promoted, from Brienne School, five years ago; 'being found qualified in mathematics by La Place. 'He is lying at Auxonne, in the West, in these months; not sumptuouslylodged--'in the house of a Barber, to whose wife he did not pay thecustomary degree of respect;' or even over at the Pavilion, in achamber with bare walls; the only furniture an indifferent 'bed withoutcurtains, two chairs, and in the recess of a window a table covered withbooks and papers: his Brother Louis sleeps on a coarse mattrass in anadjoining room. ' However, he is doing something great: writing his firstBook or Pamphlet, --eloquent vehement Letter to M. Matteo Buttafuoco, our Corsican Deputy, who is not a Patriot but an Aristocrat, unworthyof Deputyship. Joly of Dole is Publisher. The literary Sublieutenantcorrects the proofs; 'sets out on foot from Auxonne, every morning atfour o'clock, for Dole: after looking over the proofs, he partakes ofan extremely frugal breakfast with Joly, and immediately prepares forreturning to his Garrison; where he arrives before noon, having thuswalked above twenty miles in the course of the morning. ' This Sublieutenant can remark that, in drawing-rooms, on streets, onhighways, at inns, every where men's minds are ready to kindle into aflame. That a Patriot, if he appear in the drawing-room, or amid agroup of officers, is liable enough to be discouraged, so great is themajority against him: but no sooner does he get into the street, oramong the soldiers, than he feels again as if the whole Nation were withhim. That after the famous Oath, To the King, to the Nation and Law, there was a great change; that before this, if ordered to fire on thepeople, he for one would have done it in the King's name; but that afterthis, in the Nation's name, he would not have done it. Likewise that thePatriot officers, more numerous too in the Artillery and Engineers thanelsewhere, were few in number; yet that having the soldiers on theirside, they ruled the regiment; and did often deliver the Aristocratbrother officer out of peril and strait. One day, for example, 'a memberof our own mess roused the mob, by singing, from the windows of ourdining-room, O Richard, O my King; and I had to snatch him from theirfury. ' (Norvins, Histoire de Napoleon, i. 47; Las Cases, Memoirestranslated into Hazlitt's Life of Napoleon, i. 23-31. ) All which let the reader multiply by ten thousand; and spread it withslight variations over all the camps and garrisons of France. The FrenchArmy seems on the verge of universal mutiny. Universal mutiny! There is in that what may well make PatriotConstitutionalism and an august Assembly shudder. Something behoves tobe done; yet what to do no man can tell. Mirabeau proposes even that theSoldiery, having come to such a pass, be forthwith disbanded, the wholeTwo Hundred and Eighty Thousands of them; and organised anew. (Moniteur, 1790. No. 233. ) Impossible this, in so sudden a manner! cry all men. Andyet literally, answer we, it is inevitable, in one manner or another. Such an Army, with its four-generation Nobles, its Peculated Pay, andmen knotting forage cords to hang their quartermaster, cannot subsistbeside such a Revolution. Your alternative is a slow-pining chronicdissolution and new organization; or a swift decisive one; the agoniesspread over years, or concentrated into an hour. With a Mirabeau forMinister or Governor the latter had been the choice; with no Mirabeaufor Governor it will naturally be the former. Chapter 2. 2. III. Bouille at Metz. To Bouille, in his North-Eastern circle, none of these things arealtogether hid. Many times flight over the marches gleams out on him asa last guidance in such bewilderment: nevertheless he continues here:struggling always to hope the best, not from new organisation but fromhappy Counter-Revolution and return to the old. For the rest it is clearto him that this same National Federation, and universal swearing andfraternising of People and Soldiers, has done 'incalculable mischief. 'So much that fermented secretly has hereby got vent and become open:National Guards and Soldiers of the line, solemnly embracing one anotheron all parade-fields, drinking, swearing patriotic oaths, fall intodisorderly street-processions, constitutional unmilitary exclamationsand hurrahings. On which account the Regiment Picardie, for one, has tobe drawn out in the square of the barracks, here at Metz, and sharplyharangued by the General himself; but expresses penitence. (Bouille, Memoires, i. 113. ) Far and near, as accounts testify, insubordination has begun grumblinglouder and louder. Officers have been seen shut up in their mess-rooms;assaulted with clamorous demands, not without menaces. The insubordinateringleader is dismissed with 'yellow furlough, ' yellow infamous thingthey call cartouche jaune: but ten new ringleaders rise in his stead, and the yellow cartouche ceases to be thought disgraceful. 'Within afortnight, ' or at furthest a month, of that sublime Feast of Pikes, thewhole French Army, demanding Arrears, forming Reading Clubs, frequentingPopular Societies, is in a state which Bouille can call by no namebut that of mutiny. Bouille knows it as few do; and speaks by direexperience. Take one instance instead of many. It is still an early day of August, the precise date now undiscoverable, when Bouille, about to set out for the waters of Aix la Chapelle, isonce more suddenly summoned to the barracks of Metz. The soldiers standranked in fighting order, muskets loaded, the officers all there oncompulsion; and require, with many-voiced emphasis, to have theirarrears paid. Picardie was penitent; but we see it has relapsed: thewide space bristles and lours with mere mutinous armed men. BraveBouille advances to the nearest Regiment, opens his commanding lips toharangue; obtains nothing but querulous-indignant discordance, and thesound of so many thousand livres legally due. The moment is trying;there are some ten thousand soldiers now in Metz, and one spirit seemsto have spread among them. Bouille is firm as the adamant; but what shall he do? A German Regiment, named of Salm, is thought to be of better temper: nevertheless Salm toomay have heard of the precept, Thou shalt not steal; Salm too may knowthat money is money. Bouille walks trustfully towards the Regiment deSalm, speaks trustful words; but here again is answered by the cryof forty-four thousand livres odd sous. A cry waxing more and morevociferous, as Salm's humour mounts; which cry, as it will produceno cash or promise of cash, ends in the wide simultaneous whirr ofshouldered muskets, and a determined quick-time march on the part ofSalm--towards its Colonel's house, in the next street, there to seizethe colours and military chest. Thus does Salm, for its part; strong inthe faith that meum is not tuum, that fair speeches are not forty-fourthousand livres odd sous. Unrestrainable! Salm tramps to military time, quick consuming the way. Bouille and the officers, drawing sword, have to dash into double quickpas-de-charge, or unmilitary running; to get the start; to stationthemselves on the outer staircase, and stand there with what ofdeath-defiance and sharp steel they have; Salm truculently coilingitself up, rank after rank, opposite them, in such humour as we canfancy, which happily has not yet mounted to the murder-pitch. There willBouille stand, certain at least of one man's purpose; in grim calmness, awaiting the issue. What the intrepidest of men and generals can do isdone. Bouille, though there is a barricading picket at each end ofthe street, and death under his eyes, contrives to send for a DragoonRegiment with orders to charge: the dragoon officers mount; the dragoonmen will not: hope is none there for him. The street, as we say, barricaded; the Earth all shut out, only the indifferent heavenly Vaultoverhead: perhaps here or there a timorous householder peering out ofwindow, with prayer for Bouille; copious Rascality, on the pavement, with prayer for Salm: there do the two parties stand;--like chariotslocked in a narrow thoroughfare; like locked wrestlers at a dead-grip!For two hours they stand; Bouille's sword glittering in his hand, adamantine resolution clouding his brows: for two hours by the clocks ofMetz. Moody-silent stands Salm, with occasional clangour; but does notfire. Rascality from time to time urges some grenadier to level hismusket at the General; who looks on it as a bronze General would; andalways some corporal or other strikes it up. In such remarkable attitude, standing on that staircase for two hours, does brave Bouille, long a shadow, dawn on us visibly out of thedimness, and become a person. For the rest, since Salm has not shot himat the first instant, and since in himself there is no variableness, thedanger will diminish. The Mayor, 'a man infinitely respectable, 'with his Municipals and tricolor sashes, finally gains entrance;remonstrates, perorates, promises; gets Salm persuaded home to itsbarracks. Next day, our respectable Mayor lending the money, theofficers pay down the half of the demand in ready cash. With whichliquidation Salm pacifies itself, and for the present all is hushed up, as much as may be. (Bouille, i. 140-5. ) Such scenes as this of Metz, or preparations and demonstrationstowards such, are universal over France: Dampmartin, with his knottedforage-cords and piled chamois jackets, is at Strasburg in theSouth-East; in these same days or rather nights, Royal Champagne is'shouting Vive la Nation, au diable les Aristocrates, with some thirtylit candles, ' at Hesdin, on the far North-West. "The garrison ofBitche, " Deputy Rewbell is sorry to state, "went out of the town, withdrums beating; deposed its officers; and then returned into the town, sabre in hand. " (Moniteur (in Hist. Parl. Vii. 29). ) Ought not aNational Assembly to occupy itself with these objects? Military Franceis everywhere full of sour inflammatory humour, which exhales itselffuliginously, this way or that: a whole continent of smoking flax;which, blown on here or there by any angry wind, might so easily startinto a blaze, into a continent of fire! Constitutional Patriotism is in deep natural alarm at these things. Theaugust Assembly sits diligently deliberating; dare nowise resolve, withMirabeau, on an instantaneous disbandment and extinction; finds that acourse of palliatives is easier. But at least and lowest, this grievanceof the Arrears shall be rectified. A plan, much noised of in those days, under the name 'Decree of the Sixth of August, ' has been devised forthat. Inspectors shall visit all armies; and, with certain electedcorporals and 'soldiers able to write, ' verify what arrears andpeculations do lie due, and make them good. Well, if in this waythe smoky heat be cooled down; if it be not, as we say, ventilatedover-much, or, by sparks and collision somewhere, sent up! Chapter 2. 2. IV. Arrears at Nanci. We are to remark, however, that of all districts, this of Bouille'sseems the inflammablest. It was always to Bouille and Metz thatRoyalty would fly: Austria lies near; here more than elsewhere mustthe disunited People look over the borders, into a dim sea of ForeignPolitics and Diplomacies, with hope or apprehension, with mutualexasperation. It was but in these days that certain Austrian troops, marchingpeaceably across an angle of this region, seemed an Invasion realised;and there rushed towards Stenai, with musket on shoulder, from all thewinds, some thirty thousand National Guards, to inquire what the matterwas. (Moniteur, Seance du 9 Aout 1790. ) A matter of mere diplomacy itproved; the Austrian Kaiser, in haste to get to Belgium, had bargainedfor this short cut. The infinite dim movement of European Politics waveda skirt over these spaces, passing on its way; like the passing shadowof a condor; and such a winged flight of thirty thousand, with mixedcackling and crowing, rose in consequence! For, in addition to all, thispeople, as we said, is much divided: Aristocrats abound; Patriotism hasboth Aristocrats and Austrians to watch. It is Lorraine, this region;not so illuminated as old France: it remembers ancient Feudalisms; nay, within man's memory, it had a Court and King of its own, or indeed thesplendour of a Court and King, without the burden. Then, contrariwise, the Mother Society, which sits in the Jacobins Church at Paris, hasDaughters in the Towns here; shrill-tongued, driven acrid: consider howthe memory of good King Stanislaus, and ages of Imperial Feudalism, maycomport with this New acrid Evangel, and what a virulence of discordthere may be! In all which, the Soldiery, officers on one side, privatemen on the other, takes part, and now indeed principal part; a Soldiery, moreover, all the hotter here as it lies the denser, the frontierProvince requiring more of it. So stands Lorraine: but the capital City, more especially so. Thepleasant City of Nanci, which faded Feudalism loves, where KingStanislaus personally dwelt and shone, has an Aristocrat Municipality, and then also a Daughter Society: it has some forty thousand dividedsouls of population; and three large Regiments, one of which is SwissChateau-Vieux, dear to Patriotism ever since it refused fighting, orwas thought to refuse, in the Bastille days. Here unhappily all evilinfluences seem to meet concentered; here, of all places, may jealousyand heat evolve itself. These many months, accordingly, man has been setagainst man, Washed against Unwashed; Patriot Soldier against AristocratCaptain, ever the more bitterly; and a long score of grudges has beenrunning up. Nameable grudges, and likewise unnameable: for there is a punctualnature in Wrath; and daily, were there but glances of the eye, tonesof the voice, and minutest commissions or omissions, it will jot downsomewhat, to account, under the head of sundries, which always swellsthe sum-total. For example, in April last, in those times of preliminaryFederation, when National Guards and Soldiers were every where swearingbrotherhood, and all France was locally federating, preparing for thegrand National Feast of Pikes, it was observed that these Nanci Officersthrew cold water on the whole brotherly business; that they first hungback from appearing at the Nanci Federation; then did appear, but inmere redingote and undress, with scarcely a clean shirt on; nay that oneof them, as the National Colours flaunted by in that solemn moment, did, without visible necessity, take occasion to spit. (Deux Amis, v. 217. ) Small 'sundries as per journal, ' but then incessant ones! The AristocratMunicipality, pretending to be Constitutional, keeps mostly quiet; notso the Daughter Society, the five thousand adult male Patriots of theplace, still less the five thousand female: not so the young, whiskeredor whiskerless, four-generation Noblesse in epaulettes; the grim PatriotSwiss of Chateau-Vieux, effervescent infantry of Regiment du Roi, hottroopers of Mestre-de-Camp! Walled Nanci, which stands so bright andtrim, with its straight streets, spacious squares, and Stanislaus'Architecture, on the fruitful alluvium of the Meurthe; so bright, amidthe yellow cornfields in these Reaper-Months, --is inwardly but a den ofdiscord, anxiety, inflammability, not far from exploding. Let Bouillelook to it. If that universal military heat, which we liken to a vastcontinent of smoking flax, do any where take fire, his beard, here inLorraine and Nanci, may the most readily of all get singed by it. Bouille, for his part, is busy enough, but only with the generalsuperintendence; getting his pacified Salm, and all other stilltolerable Regiments, marched out of Metz, to southward towns andvillages; to rural Cantonments as at Vic, Marsal and thereabout, bythe still waters; where is plenty of horse-forage, sequesteredparade-ground, and the soldier's speculative faculty can be stilledby drilling. Salm, as we said, received only half payment of arrears;naturally not without grumbling. Nevertheless that scene of the drawnsword may, after all, have raised Bouille in the mind of Salm; for menand soldiers love intrepidity and swift inflexible decision, even whenthey suffer by it. As indeed is not this fundamentally the quality ofqualities for a man? A quality which by itself is next to nothing, since inferior animals, asses, dogs, even mules have it; yet, in duecombination, it is the indispensable basis of all. Of Nanci and its heats, Bouille, commander of the whole, knows nothingspecial; understands generally that the troops in that City are perhapsthe worst. (Bouille, i. C. 9. ) The Officers there have it all, as theyhave long had it, to themselves; and unhappily seem to manage it ill. 'Fifty yellow furloughs, ' given out in one batch, do surely betokendifficulties. But what was Patriotism to think of certain light-fencingFusileers 'set on, ' or supposed to be set on, 'to insult theGrenadier-club, ' considerate speculative Grenadiers, and thatreading-room of theirs? With shoutings, with hootings; till thespeculative Grenadier drew his side-arms too; and there ensued batteryand duels! Nay more, are not swashbucklers of the same stamp 'sent out'visibly, or sent out presumably, now in the dress of Soldiers to pickquarrels with the Citizens; now, disguised as Citizens, to pick quarrelswith the Soldiers? For a certain Roussiere, expert in fence, was takenin the very fact; four Officers (presumably of tender years) houndinghim on, who thereupon fled precipitately! Fence-master Roussiere, haledto the guardhouse, had sentence of three months' imprisonment: buthis comrades demanded 'yellow furlough' for him of all persons; nay, thereafter they produced him on parade; capped him in paper-helmetinscribed, Iscariot; marched him to the gate of City; and there sternlycommanded him to vanish for evermore. On all which suspicions, accusations and noisy procedure, and on enoughof the like continually accumulating, the Officer could not but lookwith disdainful indignation; perhaps disdainfully express the same inwords, and 'soon after fly over to the Austrians. ' So that when it here as elsewhere comes to the question of Arrears, the humour and procedure is of the bitterest: Regiment Mestre-de-Campgetting, amid loud clamour, some three gold louis a-man, --which have, as usual, to be borrowed from the Municipality; Swiss Chateau-Vieuxapplying for the like, but getting instead instantaneous courrois, orcat-o'-nine-tails, with subsequent unsufferable hisses from the womenand children; Regiment du Roi, sick of hope deferred, at length seizingits military chest, and marching it to quarters, but next day marchingit back again, through streets all struck silent:--unordered paradingsand clamours, not without strong liquor; objurgation, insubordination;your military ranked Arrangement going all (as the Typographers say ofset types, in a similar case) rapidly to pie! (Deux Amis, v. C. 8. ) Suchis Nanci in these early days of August; the sublime Feast of Pikes notyet a month old. Constitutional Patriotism, at Paris and elsewhere, may well quake atthe news. War-Minister Latour du Pin runs breathless to the NationalAssembly, with a written message that 'all is burning, tout brule, toutpresse. ' The National Assembly, on spur of the instant, renders suchDecret, and 'order to submit and repent, ' as he requires; if it willavail any thing. On the other hand, Journalism, through all its throats, gives hoarse outcry, condemnatory, elegiac-applausive. The Forty-eightSections, lift up voices; sonorous Brewer, or call him now ColonelSanterre, is not silent, in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. For, meanwhile, the Nanci Soldiers have sent a Deputation of Ten, furnishedwith documents and proofs; who will tell another story than the'all-is-burning' one. Which deputed Ten, before ever they reach theAssembly Hall, assiduous Latour du Pin picks up, and on warrant of MayorBailly, claps in prison! Most unconstitutionally; for they had officers'furloughs. Whereupon Saint-Antoine, in indignant uncertainty of thefuture, closes its shops. Is Bouille a traitor then, sold to Austria?In that case, these poor private sentinels have revolted mainly out ofPatriotism? New Deputation, Deputation of National Guardsmen now, sets forth fromNanci to enlighten the Assembly. It meets the old deputed Ten returning, quite unexpectedly unhanged; and proceeds thereupon with betterprospects; but effects nothing. Deputations, Government Messengers, Orderlies at hand-gallops, Alarms, thousand-voiced Rumours, go vibratingcontinually; backwards and forwards, --scattering distraction. Not tillthe last week of August does M. De Malseigne, selected as Inspector, getdown to the scene of mutiny; with Authority, with cash, and 'Decree ofthe Sixth of August. ' He now shall see these Arrears liquidated, justicedone, or at least tumult quashed. Chapter 2. 2. V. Inspector Malseigne. Of Inspector Malseigne we discern, by direct light, that he is 'ofHerculean stature;' and infer, with probability, that he is of truculentmoustachioed aspect, --for Royalist Officers now leave the upper lipunshaven; that he is of indomitable bull-heart; and also, unfortunately, of thick bull-head. On Tuesday the 24th of August, 1790, he opens session as InspectingCommissioner; meets those 'elected corporals, and soldiers that canwrite. ' He finds the accounts of Chateau-Vieux to be complex; to requiredelay and reference: he takes to haranguing, to reprimanding; ends amidaudible grumbling. Next morning, he resumes session, not at the Townhallas prudent Municipals counselled, but once more at the barracks. Unfortunately Chateau-Vieux, grumbling all night, will now hear ofno delay or reference; from reprimanding on his part, it goes tobullying, --answered with continual cries of "Jugez tout de suite, Judgeit at once;" whereupon M. De Malseigne will off in a huff. But lo, Chateau Vieux, swarming all about the barrack-court, has sentries atevery gate; M. De Malseigne, demanding egress, cannot get it, thoughCommandant Denoue backs him; can get only "Jugez tout de suite. " Here isa nodus! Bull-hearted M. De Malseigne draws his sword; and will force egress. Confused splutter. M. De Malseigne's sword breaks; he snatchesCommandant Denoue's: the sentry is wounded. M. De Malseigne, whom oneis loath to kill, does force egress, --followed by Chateau-Vieux all indisarray; a spectacle to Nanci. M. De Malseigne walks at a sharp pace, yet never runs; wheeling from time to time, with menaces andmovements of fence; and so reaches Denoue's house, unhurt; which houseChateau-Vieux, in an agitated manner, invests, --hindered as yetfrom entering, by a crowd of officers formed on the staircase. M. De Malseigne retreats by back ways to the Townhall, flustered thoughundaunted; amid an escort of National Guards. From the Townhall he, on the morrow, emits fresh orders, fresh plans of settlement withChateau-Vieux; to none of which will Chateau-Vieux listen: whereuponfinally he, amid noise enough, emits order that Chateau-Vieux shallmarch on the morrow morning, and quarter at Sarre Louis. Chateau-Vieuxflatly refuses marching; M. De Malseigne 'takes act, ' due notarialprotest, of such refusal, --if happily that may avail him. This is end of Thursday; and, indeed, of M. De Malseigne'sInspectorship, which has lasted some fifty hours. To such length, in fifty hours, has he unfortunately brought it. Mestre-de-Camp andRegiment du Roi hang, as it were, fluttering: Chateau-Vieux is cleangone, in what way we see. Over night, an Aide-de-Camp of Lafayette's, stationed here for such emergency, sends swift emissaries far and wide, to summon National Guards. The slumber of the country is brokenby clattering hoofs, by loud fraternal knockings; every where theConstitutional Patriot must clutch his fighting-gear, and take the roadfor Nanci. And thus the Herculean Inspector has sat all Thursday, amongterror-struck Municipals, a centre of confused noise: all Thursday, Friday, and till Saturday towards noon. Chateau-Vieux, in spite ofthe notarial protest, will not march a step. As many as four thousandNational Guards are dropping or pouring in; uncertain what is expectedof them, still more uncertain what will be obtained of them. For all isuncertainty, commotion, and suspicion: there goes a word that Bouille, beginning to bestir himself in the rural Cantonments eastward, is but aRoyalist traitor; that Chateau-Vieux and Patriotism are sold to Austria, of which latter M. De Malseigne is probably some agent. Mestre-de-Campand Roi flutter still more questionably: Chateau-Vieux, far frommarching, 'waves red flags out of two carriages, ' in a passionatemanner, along the streets; and next morning answers its Officers: "Payus, then; and we will march with you to the world's end!" Under which circumstances, towards noon on Saturday, M. De Malseignethinks it were good perhaps to inspect the ramparts, --on horseback. Hemounts, accordingly, with escort of three troopers. At the gate of thecity, he bids two of them wait for his return; and with the third, atrooper to be depended upon, he--gallops off for Luneville; where liesa certain Carabineer Regiment not yet in a mutinous state! The twoleft troopers soon get uneasy; discover how it is, and give the alarm. Mestre-de-Camp, to the number of a hundred, saddles in frantic haste, asif sold to Austria; gallops out pellmell in chase of its Inspector. Andso they spur, and the Inspector spurs; careering, with noise and jingle, up the valley of the River Meurthe, towards Luneville and themidday sun: through an astonished country; indeed almost their ownastonishment. What a hunt, Actaeon-like;--which Actaeon de Malseigne happily gains! Toarms, ye Carabineers of Luneville: to chastise mutinous men, insultingyour General Officer, insulting your own quarters;--above allthings, fire soon, lest there be parleying and ye refuse to fire!The Carabineers fire soon, exploding upon the first stragglers ofMestre-de-Camp; who shrink at the very flash, and fall back hastilyon Nanci, in a state not far from distraction. Panic and fury: soldto Austria without an if; so much per regiment, the very sums can bespecified; and traitorous Malseigne is fled! Help, O Heaven; help, thouEarth, --ye unwashed Patriots; ye too are sold like us! Effervescent Regiment du Roi primes its firelocks, Mestre-de-Campsaddles wholly: Commandant Denoue is seized, is flung in prison with a'canvass shirt' (sarreau de toile) about him; Chateau-Vieux bursts upthe magazines; distributes 'three thousand fusils' to a Patriot people:Austria shall have a hot bargain. Alas, the unhappy hunting-dogs, aswe said, have hunted away their huntsman; and do now run howling andbaying, on what trail they know not; nigh rabid! And so there is tumultuous march of men, through the night; with halton the heights of Flinval, whence Luneville can be seen all illuminated. Then there is parley, at four in the morning; and reparley; finallythere is agreement: the Carabineers give in; Malseigne is surrendered, with apologies on all sides. After weary confused hours, he is even gotunder way; the Lunevillers all turning out, in the idle Sunday, to seesuch departure: home-going of mutinous Mestre-de-Camp with its Inspectorcaptive. Mestre-de-Camp accordingly marches; the Lunevillers look. See! at the corner of the first street, our Inspector bounds offagain, bull-hearted as he is; amid the slash of sabres, the crackleof musketry; and escapes, full gallop, with only a ball lodged in hisbuff-jerkin. The Herculean man! And yet it is an escape to no purpose. For the Carabineers, to whom after the hardest Sunday's ride on record, he has come circling back, 'stand deliberating by their nocturnalwatch-fires;' deliberating of Austria, of traitors, and the rage ofMestre-de-Camp. So that, on the whole, the next sight we have is thatof M. De Malseigne, on the Monday afternoon, faring bull-hearted throughthe streets of Nanci; in open carriage, a soldier standing over him withdrawn sword; amid the 'furies of the women, ' hedges of National Guards, and confusion of Babel: to the Prison beside Commandant Denoue! Thatfinally is the lodging of Inspector Malseigne. (Deux Amis, v. 206-251;Newspapers and Documents in Hist. Parl. Vii. 59-162. ) Surely it is time Bouille were drawing near. The Country all round, alarmed with watchfires, illuminated towns, and marching and rout, hasbeen sleepless these several nights. Nanci, with its uncertain NationalGuards, with its distributed fusils, mutinous soldiers, black panic andredhot ire, is not a City but a Bedlam. Chapter 2. 2. VI. Bouille at Nanci. Haste with help, thou brave Bouille: if swift help come not, all is nowverily 'burning;' and may burn, --to what lengths and breadths! Much, in these hours, depends on Bouille; as it shall now fare with him, thewhole Future may be this way or be that. If, for example, he were toloiter dubitating, and not come: if he were to come, and fail: the wholeSoldiery of France to blaze into mutiny, National Guards going some thisway, some that; and Royalism to draw its rapier, and Sansculottism tosnatch its pike; and the Spirit if Jacobinism, as yet young, girt withsun-rays, to grow instantaneously mature, girt with hell-fire, --asmortals, in one night of deadly crisis, have had their heads turnedgray! Brave Bouille is advancing fast, with the old inflexibility; gatheringhimself, unhappily 'in small affluences, ' from East, from West andNorth; and now on Tuesday morning, the last day of the month, he standsall concentred, unhappily still in small force, at the village ofFrouarde, within some few miles. Son of Adam with a more dubioustask before him is not in the world this Tuesday morning. A welteringinflammable sea of doubt and peril, and Bouille sure of simply onething, his own determination. Which one thing, indeed, may be worthmany. He puts a most firm face on the matter: 'Submission, or unsparingbattle and destruction; twenty-four hours to make your choice:' this wasthe tenor of his Proclamation; thirty copies of which he sent yesterdayto Nanci:--all which, we find, were intercepted and not posted. (CompareBouille, Memoires, i. 153-176; Deux Amis, v. 251-271; Hist. Parl. Ubisupra. ) Nevertheless, at half-past eleven, this morning, seemingly by way ofanswer, there does wait on him at Frouarde, some Deputation from themutinous Regiments, from the Nanci Municipals, to see what can be done. Bouille receives this Deputation, 'in a large open court adjoining hislodging:' pacified Salm, and the rest, attend also, being invited todo it, --all happily still in the right humour. The Mutineers pronouncethemselves with a decisiveness, which to Bouille seems insolence; andhappily to Salm also. Salm, forgetful of the Metz staircase andsabre, demands that the scoundrels 'be hanged' there and then. Bouillerepresses the hanging; but answers that mutinous Soldiers have onecourse, and not more than one: To liberate, with heartfelt contrition, Messieurs Denoue and de Malseigne; to get ready forthwith for marchingoff, whither he shall order; and 'submit and repent, ' as the NationalAssembly has decreed, as he yesterday did in thirty printed Placardsproclaim. These are his terms, unalterable as the decrees of Destiny. Which terms as they, the Mutineer deputies, seemingly do not accept, itwere good for them to vanish from this spot, and even promptly; with himtoo, in few instants, the word will be, Forward! The Mutineer deputiesvanish, not unpromptly; the Municipal ones, anxious beyond right fortheir own individualities, prefer abiding with Bouille. Brave Bouille, though he puts a most firm face on the matter, knows hisposition full well: how at Nanci, what with rebellious soldiers, withuncertain National Guards, and so many distributed fusils, there rageand roar some ten thousand fighting men; while with himself is scarcelythe third part of that number, in National Guards also uncertain, inmere pacified Regiments, --for the present full of rage, and clamour tomarch; but whose rage and clamour may next moment take such a fatal newfigure. On the top of one uncertain billow, therewith to calm billows!Bouille must 'abandon himself to Fortune;' who is said sometimes tofavour the brave. At half-past twelve, the Mutineer deputies havingvanished, our drums beat; we march: for Nanci! Let Nanci bethink itself, then; for Bouille has thought and determined. And yet how shall Nanci think: not a City but a Bedlam! GrimChateau-Vieux is for defence to the death; forces the Municipality toorder, by tap of drum, all citizens acquainted with artillery to turnout, and assist in managing the cannon. On the other hand, effervescentRegiment du Roi, is drawn up in its barracks; quite disconsolate, hearing the humour Salm is in; and ejaculates dolefully from itsthousand throats: "La loi, la loi, Law, law!" Mestre-de-Camp blusters, with profane swearing, in mixed terror and furor; National Guards lookthis way and that, not knowing what to do. What a Bedlam-City: as manyplans as heads; all ordering, none obeying: quiet none, --except theDead, who sleep underground, having done their fighting! And, behold, Bouille proves as good as his word: 'at half-past two'scouts report that he is within half a league of the gates; rattlingalong, with cannon, and array; breathing nothing but destruction. A newDeputation, Municipals, Mutineers, Officers, goes out to meet him; withpassionate entreaty for yet one other hour. Bouille grants an hour. Then, at the end thereof, no Denoue or Malseigne appearing as promised, he rolls his drums, and again takes the road. Towards four o'clock, the terror-struck Townsmen may see him face to face. His cannons rattlethere, in their carriages; his vanguard is within thirty paces of theGate Stanislaus. Onward like a Planet, by appointed times, by law ofNature! What next? Lo, flag of truce and chamade; conjuration to halt:Malseigne and Denoue are on the street, coming hither; the soldiers allrepentant, ready to submit and march! Adamantine Bouille's look altersnot; yet the word Halt is given: gladder moment he never saw. Joy ofjoys! Malseigne and Denoue do verily issue; escorted by National Guards;from streets all frantic, with sale to Austria and so forth: they saluteBouille, unscathed. Bouille steps aside to speak with them, and withother heads of the Town there; having already ordered by what Gates andRoutes the mutineer Regiments shall file out. Such colloquy with these two General Officers and other principalTownsmen, was natural enough; nevertheless one wishes Bouille hadpostponed it, and not stepped aside. Such tumultuous inflammable masses, tumbling along, making way for each other; this of keen nitrous oxide, that of sulphurous fire-damp, --were it not well to stand betweenthem, keeping them well separate, till the space be cleared? Numerousstragglers of Chateau-Vieux and the rest have not marched with theirmain columns, which are filing out by the appointed Gates, takingstation in the open meadows. National Guards are in a state of nearlydistracted uncertainty; the populace, armed and unharmed, roll openlydelirious, --betrayed, sold to the Austrians, sold to the Aristocrats. There are loaded cannon with lit matches among them, and Bouille'svanguard is halted within thirty paces of the Gate. Command dwells notin that mad inflammable mass; which smoulders and tumbles there, inblind smoky rage; which will not open the Gate when summoned; says itwill open the cannon's throat sooner!--Cannonade not, O Friends, or beit through my body! cries heroic young Desilles, young Captain of Roi, clasping the murderous engine in his arms, and holding it. Chateau-VieuxSwiss, by main force, with oaths and menaces, wrench off the heroicyouth; who undaunted, amid still louder oaths seats himself on thetouch-hole. Amid still louder oaths; with ever louder clangour, --and, alas, with the loud crackle of first one, and then three other muskets;which explode into his body; which roll it in the dust, --and do also, in the loud madness of such moment, bring lit cannon-match to readypriming; and so, with one thunderous belch of grapeshot, blast somefifty of Bouille's vanguard into air! Fatal! That sputter of the first musket-shot has kindled such acannon-shot, such a death-blaze; and all is now redhot madness, conflagration as of Tophet. With demoniac rage, the Bouille vanguardstorms through that Gate Stanislaus; with fiery sweep, sweeps Mutinyclear away, to death, or into shelters and cellars; from which latter, again, Mutiny continues firing. The ranked Regiments hear it in theirmeadow; they rush back again through the nearest Gates; Bouille gallopsin, distracted, inaudible;--and now has begun, in Nanci, as in thatdoomed Hall of the Nibelungen, 'a murder grim and great. ' Miserable: such scene of dismal aimless madness as the anger of Heavenbut rarely permits among men! From cellar or from garret, from openstreet in front, from successive corners of cross-streets on each hand, Chateau-Vieux and Patriotism keep up the murderous rolling-fire, onmurderous not Unpatriotic fires. Your blue National Captain, riddledwith balls, one hardly knows on whose side fighting, requests to belaid on the colours to die: the patriotic Woman (name not given, deedsurviving) screams to Chateau-Vieux that it must not fire the othercannon; and even flings a pail of water on it, since screaming availsnot. (Deux Amis, v. 268. ) Thou shalt fight; thou shalt not fight; andwith whom shalt thou fight! Could tumult awaken the old Dead, BurgundianCharles the Bold might stir from under that Rotunda of his: never sincehe, raging, sank in the ditches, and lost Life and Diamond, was such anoise heard here. Three thousand, as some count, lie mangled, gory; the half ofChateau-Vieux has been shot, without need of Court Martial. Cavalry, of Mestre-de-Camp or their foes, can do little. Regiment du Roi waspersuaded to its barracks; stands there palpitating. Bouille, armed withthe terrors of the Law, and favoured of Fortune, finally triumphs. Intwo murderous hours he has penetrated to the grand Squares, dauntless, though with loss of forty officers and five hundred men: the shatteredremnants of Chateau-Vieux are seeking covert. Regiment du Roi, noteffervescent now, alas no, but having effervesced, will offer toground its arms; will 'march in a quarter of an hour. ' Nay these pooreffervesced require 'escort' to march with, and get it; though they arethousands strong, and have thirty ball-cartridges a man! The Sun is notyet down, when Peace, which might have come bloodless, has come bloody:the mutinous Regiments are on march, doleful, on their three Routes;and from Nanci rises wail of women and men, the voice of weeping anddesolation; the City weeping for its slain who awaken not. These streetsare empty but for victorious patrols. Thus has Fortune, favouring the brave, dragged Bouille, as himself says, out of such a frightful peril, 'by the hair of the head. ' An intrepidadamantine man this Bouille:--had he stood in old Broglie's place, in those Bastille days, it might have been all different! He hasextinguished mutiny, and immeasurable civil war. Not for nothing, aswe see; yet at a rate which he and Constitutional Patriotism considerscheap. Nay, as for Bouille, he, urged by subsequent contradiction whicharose, declares coldly, it was rather against his own private mind, and more by public military rule of duty, that he did extinguish it, (Bouille, i. 175. )--immeasurable civil war being now the only chance. Urged, we say, by subsequent contradiction! Civil war, indeed, is Chaos;and in all vital Chaos, there is new Order shaping itself free: but whata faith this, that of all new Orders out of Chaos and Possibility ofMan and his Universe, Louis Sixteenth and Two-Chamber Monarchy wereprecisely the one that would shape itself! It is like undertaking tothrow deuce-ace, say only five hundred successive times, and any otherthrow to be fatal--for Bouille. Rather thank Fortune, and Heaven, always, thou intrepid Bouille; and let contradiction of its way! Civilwar, conflagrating universally over France at this moment, mighthave led to one thing or to another thing: meanwhile, to quenchconflagration, wheresoever one finds it, wheresoever one can; this, inall times, is the rule for man and General Officer. But at Paris, so agitated and divided, fancy how it went, when thecontinually vibrating Orderlies vibrated thither at hand gallop, withsuch questionable news! High is the gratulation; and also deepthe indignation. An august Assembly, by overwhelming majorities, passionately thanks Bouille; a King's autograph, the voices of allLoyal, all Constitutional men run to the same tenor. A solemn Nationalfuneral-service, for the Law-defenders slain at Nanci; is said and sungin the Champ de Mars; Bailly, Lafayette and National Guards, allexcept the few that protested, assist. With pomp and circumstance, withepiscopal Calicoes in tricolor girdles, Altar of Fatherland smokingwith cassolettes, or incense-kettles; the vast Champ-de-Mars whollyhung round with black mortcloth, --which mortcloth and expenditure Maratthinks had better have been laid out in bread, in these dear days, andgiven to the hungry living Patriot. (Ami du Peuple in Hist. Parl. , ubisupra. ) On the other hand, living Patriotism, and Saint-Antoine, whichwe have seen noisily closing its shops and such like, assembles now'to the number of forty thousand;' and, with loud cries, under the verywindows of the thanking National Assembly, demands revenge for murderedBrothers, judgment on Bouille, and instant dismissal of War-MinisterLatour du Pin. At sound and sight of which things, if not War-Minister Latour, yet'Adored Minister' Necker, sees good on the 3d of September 1790, towithdraw softly almost privily, --with an eye to the 'recovery of hishealth. ' Home to native Switzerland; not as he last came; lucky to reachit alive! Fifteen months ago, we saw him coming, with escort of horse, with sound of clarion and trumpet: and now at Arcis-sur-Aube, while hedeparts unescorted soundless, the Populace and Municipals stop him asa fugitive, are not unlike massacring him as a traitor; the NationalAssembly, consulted on the matter, gives him free egress as a nullity. Such an unstable 'drift-mould of Accident' is the substance of thislower world, for them that dwell in houses of clay; so, especiallyin hot regions and times, do the proudest palaces we build of it takewings, and become Sahara sand-palaces, spinning many pillared in thewhirlwind, and bury us under their sand!-- In spite of the forty thousand, the National Assembly persists inits thanks; and Royalist Latour du Pin continues Minister. The fortythousand assemble next day, as loud as ever; roll towards Latour'sHotel; find cannon on the porch-steps with flambeau lit; and have toretire elsewhither, and digest their spleen, or re-absorb it into theblood. Over in Lorraine, meanwhile, they of the distributed fusils, ringleadersof Mestre-de-Camp, of Roi, have got marked out for judgment;--yet shallnever get judged. Briefer is the doom of Chateau-Vieux. Chateau-Vieuxis, by Swiss law, given up for instant trial in Court-Martial of its ownofficers. Which Court-Martial, with all brevity (in not many hours), has hanged some Twenty-three, on conspicuous gibbets; marched someThree-score in chains to the Galleys; and so, to appearance, finishedthe matter off. Hanged men do cease for ever from this Earth; but outof chains and the Galleys there may be resuscitation in triumph. Resuscitation for the chained Hero; and even for the chained Scoundrel, or Semi-scoundrel! Scottish John Knox, such World-Hero, as we know, satonce nevertheless pulling grim-taciturn at the oar of French Galley, 'inthe Water of Lore;' and even flung their Virgin-Mary over, instead ofkissing her, --as 'a pented bredd, ' or timber Virgin, who couldnaturally swim. (Knox's History of the Reformation, b. I. ) So, ye ofChateau-Vieux, tug patiently, not without hope! But indeed at Nanci generally, Aristocracy rides triumphant, rough. Bouille is gone again, the second day; an Aristocrat Municipality, withfree course, is as cruel as it had before been cowardly. The DaughterSociety, as the mother of the whole mischief, lies ignominiouslysuppressed; the Prisons can hold no more; bereaved down-beatenPatriotism murmurs, not loud but deep. Here and in the neighbouringTowns, 'flattened balls' picked from the streets of Nanci are worn atbuttonholes: balls flattened in carrying death to Patriotism; men wearthem there, in perpetual memento of revenge. Mutineer Deserters roam thewoods; have to demand charity at the musket's end. All is dissolution, mutual rancour, gloom and despair:--till National-Assembly Commissionersarrive, with a steady gentle flame of Constitutionalism in their hearts;who gently lift up the down-trodden, gently pull down the too uplifted;reinstate the Daughter Society, recall the Mutineer Deserter; graduallylevelling, strive in all wise ways to smooth and soothe. With suchgradual mild levelling on the one side; as with solemn funeral-service, Cassolettes, Courts-Martial, National thanks, --all that Officiality cando is done. The buttonhole will drop its flat ball; the black ashes, sofar as may be, get green again. This is the 'Affair of Nanci;' by some called the 'Massacre ofNanci;'--properly speaking, the unsightly wrong-side of that thriceglorious Feast of Pikes, the right-side of which formed a spectacle forthe very gods. Right-side and wrong lie always so near: the one was inJuly, in August the other! Theatres, the theatres over in London, arebright with their pasteboard simulacrum of that 'Federation of theFrench People, ' brought out as Drama: this of Nanci, we may say, thoughnot played in any pasteboard Theatre, did for many months enact itself, and even walk spectrally--in all French heads. For the news of it flypealing through all France; awakening, in town and village, in clubroom, messroom, to the utmost borders, some mimic reflex or imaginativerepetition of the business; always with the angry questionableassertion: It was right; It was wrong. Whereby come controversies, duels, embitterment, vain jargon; the hastening forward, the augmentingand intensifying of whatever new explosions lie in store for us. Meanwhile, at this cost or at that, the mutiny, as we say, is stilled. The French Army has neither burst up in universal simultaneous delirium;nor been at once disbanded, put an end to, and made new again. Itmust die in the chronic manner, through years, by inches; with partialrevolts, as of Brest Sailors or the like, which dare not spread;with men unhappy, insubordinate; officers unhappier, in Royalistmoustachioes, taking horse, singly or in bodies, across the Rhine: (SeeDampmartin, i. 249, &c. &c. ) sick dissatisfaction, sick disgust onboth sides; the Army moribund, fit for no duty:--till it do, in thatunexpected manner, Phoenix-like, with long throes, get both dead andnewborn; then start forth strong, nay stronger and even strongest. Thus much was the brave Bouille hitherto fated to do. Wherewith lethim again fade into dimness; and at Metz or the rural Cantonments, assiduously drilling, mysteriously diplomatising, in scheme withinscheme, hover as formerly a faint shadow, the hope of Royalty. BOOK 2. III. THE TUILERIES Chapter 2. 3. I. Epimenides. How true that there is nothing dead in this Universe; that what we calldead is only changed, its forces working in inverse order! 'The leafthat lies rotting in moist winds, ' says one, 'has still force; else howcould it rot?' Our whole Universe is but an infinite Complex of Forces;thousandfold, from Gravitation up to Thought and Will; man's Freedomenvironed with Necessity of Nature: in all which nothing at any momentslumbers, but all is for ever awake and busy. The thing that liesisolated inactive thou shalt nowhere discover; seek every where fromthe granite mountain, slow-mouldering since Creation, to the passingcloud-vapour, to the living man; to the action, to the spoken word ofman. The word that is spoken, as we know, flies-irrevocable: not less, but more, the action that is done. 'The gods themselves, ' sings Pindar, 'cannot annihilate the action that is done. ' No: this, once done, isdone always; cast forth into endless Time; and, long conspicuous or soonhidden, must verily work and grow for ever there, an indestructible newelement in the Infinite of Things. Or, indeed, what is this Infinite ofThings itself, which men name Universe, but an action, a sum-totalof Actions and Activities? The living ready-made sum-total of thesethree, --which Calculation cannot add, cannot bring on its tablets; yetthe sum, we say, is written visible: All that has been done, All thatis doing, All that will be done! Understand it well, the Thing thoubeholdest, that Thing is an Action, the product and expression ofexerted Force: the All of Things is an infinite conjugation of the verbTo do. Shoreless Fountain-Ocean of Force, of power to do; whereinForce rolls and circles, billowing, many-streamed, harmonious; wideas Immensity, deep as Eternity; beautiful and terrible, not to becomprehended: this is what man names Existence and Universe; thisthousand-tinted Flame-image, at once veil and revelation, reflex such ashe, in his poor brain and heart, can paint, of One Unnameable dwellingin inaccessible light! From beyond the Star-galaxies, from before theBeginning of Days, it billows and rolls, --round thee, nay thyself art ofit, in this point of Space where thou now standest, in this moment whichthy clock measures. Or apart from all Transcendentalism, is it not a plain truth of sense, which the duller mind can even consider as a truism, that human thingswholly are in continual movement, and action and reaction; workingcontinually forward, phasis after phasis, by unalterable laws, towardsprescribed issues? How often must we say, and yet not rightly layto heart: The seed that is sown, it will spring! Given the summer'sblossoming, then there is also given the autumnal withering: so is itordered not with seedfields only, but with transactions, arrangements, philosophies, societies, French Revolutions, whatsoever man works within this lower world. The Beginning holds in it the End, and all thatleads thereto; as the acorn does the oak and its fortunes. Solemnenough, did we think of it, --which unhappily and also happily we do notvery much! Thou there canst begin; the Beginning is for thee, and there:but where, and of what sort, and for whom will the End be? All grows, and seeks and endures its destinies: consider likewise how much grows, as the trees do, whether we think of it or not. So that when yourEpimenides, your somnolent Peter Klaus, since named Rip van Winkle, awakens again, he finds it a changed world. In that seven-years' sleepof his, so much has changed! All that is without us will change whilewe think not of it; much even that is within us. The truth that wasyesterday a restless Problem, has to-day grown a Belief burning tobe uttered: on the morrow, contradiction has exasperated it into madFanaticism; obstruction has dulled it into sick Inertness; it is sinkingtowards silence, of satisfaction or of resignation. To-day is notYesterday, for man or for thing. Yesterday there was the oath of Love;today has come the curse of Hate. Not willingly: ah, no; but it couldnot help coming. The golden radiance of youth, would it willingly havetarnished itself into the dimness of old age?--Fearful: how we standenveloped, deep-sunk, in that Mystery of TIME; and are Sons of Time;fashioned and woven out of Time; and on us, and on all that we have, orsee, or do, is written: Rest not, Continue not, Forward to thy doom! But in seasons of Revolution, which indeed distinguish themselves fromcommon seasons by their velocity mainly, your miraculous Seven-sleepermight, with miracle enough, wake sooner: not by the century, or sevenyears, need he sleep; often not by the seven months. Fancy, for example, some new Peter Klaus, sated with the jubilee of that Federation day, hadlain down, say directly after the Blessing of Talleyrand; and, reckoningit all safe now, had fallen composedly asleep under the timber-work ofthe Fatherland's Altar; to sleep there, not twenty-one years, but asit were year and day. The cannonading of Nanci, so far off, does notdisturb him; nor does the black mortcloth, close at hand, nor therequiems chanted, and minute guns, incense-pans and concourse right overhis head: none of these; but Peter sleeps through them all. Through onecircling year, as we say; from July 14th of 1790, till July the 17th of1791: but on that latter day, no Klaus, nor most leaden Epimenides, only the Dead could continue sleeping; and so our miraculous Peter Klausawakens. With what eyes, O Peter! Earth and sky have still their joyousJuly look, and the Champ-de-Mars is multitudinous with men: but thejubilee-huzzahing has become Bedlam-shrieking, of terror and revenge;not blessing of Talleyrand, or any blessing, but cursing, imprecationand shrill wail; our cannon-salvoes are turned to sharp shot; forswinging of incense-pans and Eighty-three Departmental Banners, we havewaving of the one sanguinous Drapeau-Rouge. --Thou foolish Klaus! The onelay in the other, the one was the other minus Time; even as Hannibal'srock-rending vinegar lay in the sweet new wine. That sweet Federationwas of last year; this sour Divulsion is the self-same substance, onlyolder by the appointed days. No miraculous Klaus or Epimenides sleeps in these times: and yet, maynot many a man, if of due opacity and levity, act the same miracle in anatural way; we mean, with his eyes open? Eyes has he, but he sees not, except what is under his nose. With a sparkling briskness of glance, asif he not only saw but saw through, such a one goes whisking, assiduous, in his circle of officialities; not dreaming but that it is the wholeworld: as, indeed, where your vision terminates, does not inanity beginthere, and the world's end clearly declares itself--to you? Wherebyour brisk sparkling assiduous official person (call him, for instance, Lafayette), suddenly startled, after year and day, by huge grape-shottumult, stares not less astonished at it than Peter Klaus would havedone. Such natural-miracle Lafayette can perform; and indeed not he onlybut most other officials, non-officials, and generally the whole FrenchPeople can perform it; and do bounce up, ever and anon, like amazedSeven-sleepers awakening; awakening amazed at the noise they themselvesmake. So strangely is Freedom, as we say, environed in Necessity; sucha singular Somnambulism, of Conscious and Unconscious, of Voluntary andInvoluntary, is this life of man. If any where in the world there wasastonishment that the Federation Oath went into grape-shot, surelyof all persons the French, first swearers and then shooters, feltastonished the most. Alas, offences must come. The sublime Feast of Pikes, with itseffulgence of brotherly love, unknown since the Age of Gold, has changednothing. That prurient heat in Twenty-five millions of hearts is notcooled thereby; but is still hot, nay hotter. Lift off the pressure ofcommand from so many millions; all pressure or binding rule, except suchmelodramatic Federation Oath as they have bound themselves with! For'Thou shalt' was from of old the condition of man's being, and his wealand blessedness was in obeying that. Wo for him when, were it on hestof the clearest necessity, rebellion, disloyal isolation, and mere 'Iwill', becomes his rule! But the Gospel of Jean-Jacques has come, andthe first Sacrament of it has been celebrated: all things, as wesay, are got into hot and hotter prurience; and must go on prurientlyfermenting, in continual change noted or unnoted. 'Worn out with disgusts, ' Captain after Captain, in Royalistmoustachioes, mounts his warhorse, or his Rozinante war-garron, andrides minatory across the Rhine; till all have ridden. Neither doescivic Emigration cease: Seigneur after Seigneur must, in like manner, ride or roll; impelled to it, and even compelled. For the very Peasantsdespise him in that he dare not join his order and fight. (Dampmartin, passim. ) Can he bear to have a Distaff, a Quenouille sent to him; sayin copper-plate shadow, by post; or fixed up in wooden reality over hisgate-lintel: as if he were no Hercules but an Omphale? Such scutcheonthey forward to him diligently from behind the Rhine; till he too bestirhimself and march, and in sour humour, another Lord of Land is gone, not taking the Land with him. Nay, what of Captains and emigratingSeigneurs? There is not an angry word on any of those Twenty-fivemillion French tongues, and indeed not an angry thought in their hearts, but is some fraction of the great Battle. Add many successions of angrywords together, you have the manual brawl; add brawls together, with thefestering sorrows they leave, and they rise to riots and revolts. One reverend thing after another ceases to meet reverence: in visiblematerial combustion, chateau after chateau mounts up; in spiritualinvisible combustion, one authority after another. With noise andglare, or noisily and unnoted, a whole Old System of things is vanishingpiecemeal: on the morrow thou shalt look and it is not. Chapter 2. 3. II. The Wakeful. Sleep who will, cradled in hope and short vision, like Lafayette, 'who always in the danger done sees the last danger that will threatenhim, '--Time is not sleeping, nor Time's seedfield. That sacred Herald's-College of a new Dynasty; we mean the Sixty andodd Billstickers with their leaden badges, are not sleeping. Daily they, with pastepot and cross-staff, new clothe the walls of Paris in coloursof the rainbow: authoritative heraldic, as we say, or indeed almostmagical thaumaturgic; for no Placard-Journal that they paste butwill convince some soul or souls of man. The Hawkers bawl; and theBalladsingers: great Journalism blows and blusters, through all itsthroats, forth from Paris towards all corners of France, like an Aeolus'Cave; keeping alive all manner of fires. Throats or Journals there are, as men count, (Mercier, iii. 163. ) to thenumber of some hundred and thirty-three. Of various calibre; from yourCheniers, Gorsases, Camilles, down to your Marat, down now to yourincipient Hebert of the Pere Duchesne; these blow, with fierce weight ofargument or quick light banter, for the Rights of man: Durosoys, Royous, Peltiers, Sulleaus, equally with mixed tactics, inclusive, singular tosay, of much profane Parody, (See Hist. Parl. Vii. 51. ) are blowing forAltar and Throne. As for Marat the People's-Friend, his voice is as thatof the bullfrog, or bittern by the solitary pools; he, unseen of men, croaks harsh thunder, and that alone continually, --of indignation, suspicion, incurable sorrow. The People are sinking towards ruin, nearstarvation itself: 'My dear friends, ' cries he, 'your indigence is notthe fruit of vices nor of idleness, you have a right to life, as goodas Louis XVI. , or the happiest of the century. What man can say he hasa right to dine, when you have no bread?' (Ami du Peuple, No. 306. Seeother Excerpts in Hist. Parl. Viii. 139-149, 428-433; ix. 85-93, &c. )The People sinking on the one hand: on the other hand, nothing butwretched Sieur Motiers, treasonous Riquetti Mirabeaus; traitors, or elseshadows, and simulacra of Quacks, to be seen in high places, look whereyou will! Men that go mincing, grimacing, with plausible speech andbrushed raiment; hollow within: Quacks Political; Quacks scientific, Academical; all with a fellow-feeling for each other, and kind of Quackpublic-spirit! Not great Lavoisier himself, or any of the Forty canescape this rough tongue; which wants not fanatic sincerity, nor, strangest of all, a certain rough caustic sense. And then the'three thousand gaming-houses' that are in Paris; cesspools for thescoundrelism of the world; sinks of iniquity and debauchery, --whereaswithout good morals Liberty is impossible! There, in these Dens ofSatan, which one knows, and perseveringly denounces, do Sieur Motier'smouchards consort and colleague; battening vampyre-like on aPeople next-door to starvation. 'O Peuple!' cries he oftimes, withheart-rending accent. Treason, delusion, vampyrism, scoundrelism, fromDan to Beersheba! The soul of Marat is sick with the sight: but whatremedy? To erect 'Eight Hundred gibbets, ' in convenient rows, andproceed to hoisting; 'Riquetti on the first of them!' Such is the briefrecipe of Marat, Friend of the People. So blow and bluster the Hundred and thirty-three: nor, as would seem, are these sufficient; for there are benighted nooks in France, to whichNewspapers do not reach; and every where is 'such an appetite for newsas was never seen in any country. ' Let an expeditious Dampmartin, onfurlough, set out to return home from Paris, (Dampmartin, i. 184. ) hecannot get along for 'peasants stopping him on the highway; overwhelminghim with questions:' the Maitre de Poste will not send out the horsestill you have well nigh quarrelled with him, but asks always, What news?At Autun, 'in spite of the rigorous frost' for it is now January, 1791, nothing will serve but you must gather your wayworn limbs, andthoughts, and 'speak to the multitudes from a window opening into themarket-place. ' It is the shortest method: This, good Christian people, is verily what an August Assembly seemed to me to be doing; this and noother is the news; 'Now my weary lips I close; Leave me, leave me to repose. ' The good Dampmartin!--But, on the whole, are not Nations astonishinglytrue to their National character; which indeed runs in the blood?Nineteen hundred years ago, Julius Caesar, with his quick sure eye, tooknote how the Gauls waylaid men. 'It is a habit of theirs, ' says he, 'tostop travellers, were it even by constraint, and inquire whatsoevereach of them may have heard or known about any sort of matter: in theirtowns, the common people beset the passing trader; demanding to hearfrom what regions he came, what things he got acquainted with there. Excited by which rumours and hearsays they will decide about theweightiest matters; and necessarily repent next moment that they did it, on such guidance of uncertain reports, and many a traveller answeringwith mere fictions to please them, and get off. ' (De Bello Gallico, iv. 5. ) Nineteen hundred years; and good Dampmartin, wayworn, in winterfrost, probably with scant light of stars and fish-oil, still peroratesfrom the Inn-window! This People is no longer called Gaulish; and it haswholly become braccatus, has got breeches, and suffered change enough:certain fierce German Franken came storming over; and, so to speak, vaulted on the back of it; and always after, in their grim tenaciousway, have ridden it bridled; for German is, by his very name, Guerre-man, or man that wars and gars. And so the People, as we say, isnow called French or Frankish: nevertheless, does not the old Gaulishand Gaelic Celthood, with its vehemence, effervescent promptitude, andwhat good and ill it had, still vindicate itself little adulterated?-- For the rest, that in such prurient confusion, Clubbism thrives andspreads, need not be said. Already the Mother of Patriotism, sittingin the Jacobins, shines supreme over all; and has paled the poor lunarlight of that Monarchic Club near to final extinction. She, we say, shines supreme, girt with sun-light, not yet with infernal lightning;reverenced, not without fear, by Municipal Authorities; counting herBarnaves, Lameths, Petions, of a National Assembly; most gladly of all, her Robespierre. Cordeliers, again, your Hebert, Vincent, BibliopolistMomoro, groan audibly that a tyrannous Mayor and Sieur Motier harrowthem with the sharp tribula of Law, intent apparently to suppress themby tribulation. How the Jacobin Mother-Society, as hinted formerly, sheds forth Cordeliers on this hand, and then Feuillans on that; theCordeliers on this hand, and then Feuillans on that; the Cordeliers'an elixir or double-distillation of Jacobin Patriotism;' the other awide-spread weak dilution thereof; how she will re-absorb the formerinto her Mother-bosom, and stormfully dissipate the latterinto Nonentity: how she breeds and brings forth Three HundredDaughter-Societies; her rearing of them, her correspondence, herendeavourings and continual travail: how, under an old figure, Jacobinism shoots forth organic filaments to the utmost corners ofconfused dissolved France; organising it anew:--this properly is thegrand fact of the Time. To passionate Constitutionalism, still more to Royalism, which see alltheir own Clubs fail and die, Clubbism will naturally grow to seem theroot of all evil. Nevertheless Clubbism is not death, but rathernew organisation, and life out of death: destructive, indeed, of theremnants of the Old; but to the New important, indispensable. That mancan co-operate and hold communion with man, herein lies his miraculousstrength. In hut or hamlet, Patriotism mourns not now like voice inthe desert: it can walk to the nearest Town; and there, in theDaughter-Society, make its ejaculation into an articulate oration, intoan action, guided forward by the Mother of Patriotism herself. AllClubs of Constitutionalists, and such like, fail, one after another, as shallow fountains: Jacobinism alone has gone down to the deepsubterranean lake of waters; and may, unless filled in, flow there, copious, continual, like an Artesian well. Till the Great Deep havedrained itself up: and all be flooded and submerged, and Noah's Delugeout-deluged! On the other hand, Claude Fauchet, preparing mankind for a Golden Agenow apparently just at hand, has opened his Cercle Social, with clerks, corresponding boards, and so forth; in the precincts of the PalaisRoyal. It is Te-Deum Fauchet; the same who preached on Franklin's Death, in that huge Medicean rotunda of the Halle aux bleds. He here, thiswinter, by Printing-press and melodious Colloquy, spreads bruitof himself to the utmost City-barriers. 'Ten thousand persons' ofrespectability attend there; and listen to this 'Procureur-General dela Verite, Attorney-General of Truth, ' so has he dubbed himself; to hissage Condorcet, or other eloquent coadjutor. Eloquent Attorney-General!He blows out from him, better or worse, what crude or ripe thing heholds: not without result to himself; for it leads to a Bishoprick, though only a Constitutional one. Fauchet approves himself aglib-tongued, strong-lunged, whole-hearted human individual: muchflowing matter there is, and really of the better sort, about Right, Nature, Benevolence, Progress; which flowing matter, whether 'it ispantheistic, ' or is pot-theistic, only the greener mind, in these days, need read. Busy Brissot was long ago of purpose to establish preciselysome such regenerative Social Circle: nay he had tried it, in'Newman-street Oxford-street, ' of the Fog Babylon; and failed, --as somesay, surreptitiously pocketing the cash. Fauchet, not Brissot, wasfated to be the happy man; whereat, however, generous Brissot willwith sincere heart sing a timber-toned Nunc Domine. (See Brissot, Patriote-Francais Newspaper; Fauchet, Bouche-de-Fer, &c. (excerptedin Hist. Parl. Viii. , ix. , et seqq. ). ) But 'ten thousand persons ofrespectability:' what a bulk have many things in proportion to theirmagnitude! This Cercle Social, for which Brissot chants in sinceretimber-tones such Nunc Domine, what is it? Unfortunately wind andshadow. The main reality one finds in it now, is perhaps this: that an'Attorney-General of Truth' did once take shape of a body, as Son ofAdam, on our Earth, though but for months or moments; and ten thousandpersons of respectability attended, ere yet Chaos and Nox had reabsorbedhim. Hundred and thirty-three Paris Journals; regenerative Social Circle;oratory, in Mother and Daughter Societies, from the balconies of Inns, by chimney-nook, at dinner-table, --polemical, ending many times induel! Add ever, like a constant growling accompaniment of bass Discord:scarcity of work, scarcity of food. The winter is hard and cold; raggedBakers'-queues, like a black tattered flag-of-distress, wave outever and anon. It is the third of our Hunger-years this new year ofa glorious Revolution. The rich man when invited to dinner, in suchdistress-seasons, feels bound in politeness to carry his own bread inhis pocket: how the poor dine? And your glorious Revolution has done it, cries one. And our glorious Revolution is subtilety, by black traitorsworthy of the Lamp-iron, perverted to do it, cries another! Whowill paint the huge whirlpool wherein France, all shivered into wildincoherence, whirls? The jarring that went on under every French roof, in every French heart; the diseased things that were spoken, done, thesum-total whereof is the French Revolution, tongue of man cannot tell. Nor the laws of action that work unseen in the depths of that hugeblind Incoherence! With amazement, not with measurement, men look on theImmeasurable; not knowing its laws; seeing, with all different degreesof knowledge, what new phases, and results of event, its laws bringforth. France is as a monstrous Galvanic Mass, wherein all sorts of farstranger than chemical galvanic or electric forces and substances areat work; electrifying one another, positive and negative; filling withelectricity your Leyden-jars, --Twenty-five millions in number! As thejars get full, there will, from time to time, be, on slight hint, anexplosion. Chapter 2. 3. III. Sword in Hand. On such wonderful basis, however, has Law, Royalty, Authority, andwhatever yet exists of visible Order, to maintain itself, while it can. Here, as in that Commixture of the Four Elements did the Anarch Old, hasan august Assembly spread its pavilion; curtained by the dark infiniteof discords; founded on the wavering bottomless of the Abyss; and keepscontinual hubbub. Time is around it, and Eternity, and the Inane; and itdoes what it can, what is given it to do. Glancing reluctantly in, once more, we discern little that is edifying:a Constitutional Theory of Defective Verbs struggling forward, withperseverance, amid endless interruptions: Mirabeau, from his tribune, with the weight of his name and genius, awing down much Jacobinviolence; which in return vents itself the louder over in its JacobinsHall, and even reads him sharp lectures there. (Camille's Journal (inHist. Parl. Ix. 366-85). ) This man's path is mysterious, questionable;difficult, and he walks without companion in it. Pure Patriotism doesnot now count him among her chosen; pure Royalism abhors him: yet hisweight with the world is overwhelming. Let him travel on, companionless, unwavering, whither he is bound, --while it is yet day with him, and thenight has not come. But the chosen band of pure Patriot brothers is small; counting onlysome Thirty, seated now on the extreme tip of the Left, separatefrom the world. A virtuous Petion; an incorruptible Robespierre, mostconsistent, incorruptible of thin acrid men; Triumvirs Barnave, Duport, Lameth, great in speech, thought, action, each according to his kind; alean old Goupil de Prefeln: on these and what will follow them has purePatriotism to depend. There too, conspicuous among the Thirty, if seldom audible, Philipped'Orleans may be seen sitting: in dim fuliginous bewilderment; having, one might say, arrived at Chaos! Gleams there are, at once of aLieutenancy and Regency; debates in the Assembly itself, of successionto the Throne 'in case the present Branch should fail;' and Philippe, they say, walked anxiously, in silence, through the corridors, till suchhigh argument were done: but it came all to nothing; Mirabeau, glaringinto the man, and through him, had to ejaculate in strong untranslatablelanguage: Ce j--f--ne vaut pas la peine qu'on se donne pour lui. Itcame all to nothing; and in the meanwhile Philippe's money, they say, isgone! Could he refuse a little cash to the gifted Patriot, in wantonly of that; he himself in want of all but that? Not a pamphlet canbe printed without cash; or indeed written, without food purchasable bycash. Without cash your hopefullest Projector cannot stir from the spot:individual patriotic or other Projects require cash: how much more dowide-spread Intrigues, which live and exist by cash; lying widespread, with dragon-appetite for cash; fit to swallow Princedoms! And so PrincePhilippe, amid his Sillerys, Lacloses, and confused Sons of Night, hasrolled along: the centre of the strangest cloudy coil; out of whichhas visibly come, as we often say, an Epic Preternatural Machineryof SUSPICION; and within which there has dwelt and worked, --whatspecialties of treason, stratagem, aimed or aimless endeavour towardsmischief, no party living (if it be not the Presiding Genius of it, Prince of the Power of the Air) has now any chance to know. Camille'sconjecture is the likeliest: that poor Philippe did mount up, a littleway, in treasonable speculation, as he mounted formerly in one of theearliest Balloons; but, frightened at the new position he was gettinginto, had soon turned the cock again, and come down. More fool than herose! To create Preternatural Suspicion, this was his function inthe Revolutionary Epos. But now if he have lost his cornucopia ofready-money, what else had he to lose? In thick darkness, inward andoutward, he must welter and flounder on, in that piteous death-element, the hapless man. Once, or even twice, we shall still behold him emerged;struggling out of the thick death-element: in vain. For one moment, it is the last moment, he starts aloft, or is flung aloft, even intoclearness and a kind of memorability, --to sink then for evermore! The Cote Droit persists no less; nay with more animation than ever, though hope has now well nigh fled. Tough Abbe Maury, when the obscurecountry Royalist grasps his hand with transport of thanks, answers, rolling his indomitable brazen head: "Helas, Monsieur, all that I dohere is as good as simply nothing. " Gallant Faussigny, visible thisone time in History, advances frantic, into the middle of the Hall, exclaiming: "There is but one way of dealing with it, and that isto fall sword in hand on those gentry there, sabre a la main sur cesgaillards la, " (Moniteur, Seance du 21 Aout, 1790. ) franticly indicatingour chosen Thirty on the extreme tip of the Left! Whereupon is clangourand clamour, debate, repentance, --evaporation. Things ripen towardsdownright incompatibility, and what is called 'scission:' that fiercetheoretic onslaught of Faussigny's was in August, 1790; next August willnot have come, till a famed Two Hundred and Ninety-two, the chosen ofRoyalism, make solemn final 'scission' from an Assembly given up tofaction; and depart, shaking the dust off their feet. Connected with this matter of sword in hand, there is yet another thingto be noted. Of duels we have sometimes spoken: how, in all partsof France, innumerable duels were fought; and argumentative menand messmates, flinging down the wine-cup and weapons of reason andrepartee, met in the measured field; to part bleeding; or perhaps not topart, but to fall mutually skewered through with iron, their wrath andlife alike ending, --and die as fools die. Long has this lasted, andstill lasts. But now it would seem as if in an august Assembly itself, traitorous Royalism, in its despair, had taken to a new course: that ofcutting off Patriotism by systematic duel! Bully-swordsmen, 'Spadassins'of that party, go swaggering; or indeed they can be had for a trifle ofmoney. 'Twelve Spadassins' were seen, by the yellow eye of Journalism, 'arriving recently out of Switzerland;' also 'a considerable numberof Assassins, nombre considerable d'assassins, exercising infencing-schools and at pistol-targets. ' Any Patriot Deputy of markcan be called out; let him escape one time, or ten times, a time therenecessarily is when he must fall, and France mourn. How many cartels hasMirabeau had; especially while he was the People's champion! Cartels bythe hundred: which he, since the Constitution must be made first, andhis time is precious, answers now always with a kind of stereotypeformula: "Monsieur, you are put upon my List; but I warn you that it islong, and I grant no preferences. " Then, in Autumn, had we not the Duel of Cazales and Barnave; the twochief masters of tongue-shot meeting now to exchange pistol-shot? ForCazales, chief of the Royalists, whom we call 'Blacks or Noirs, ' said, in a moment of passion, "the Patriots were sheer Brigands, " nay inso speaking, he darted or seemed to dart, a fire-glance speciallyat Barnave; who thereupon could not but reply by fire-glances, --byadjournment to the Bois-de-Boulogne. Barnave's second shot took effect:on Cazales's hat. The 'front nook' of a triangular Felt, such as mortalsthen wore, deadened the ball; and saved that fine brow from more thantemporary injury. But how easily might the lot have fallen the otherway, and Barnave's hat not been so good! Patriotism raises its louddenunciation of Duelling in general; petitions an august Assembly tostop such Feudal barbarism by law. Barbarism and solecism: for will itconvince or convict any man to blow half an ounce of lead through thehead of him? Surely not. --Barnave was received at the Jacobins withembraces, yet with rebukes. Mindful of which, and also that his repetition in America was that ofheadlong foolhardiness rather, and want of brain not of heart, CharlesLameth does, on the eleventh day of November, with little emotion, decline attending some hot young Gentleman from Artois, come expresslyto challenge him: nay indeed he first coldly engages to attend; thencoldly permits two Friends to attend instead of him, and shame theyoung Gentleman out of it, which they successfully do. A cold procedure;satisfactory to the two Friends, to Lameth and the hot young Gentleman;whereby, one might have fancied, the whole matter was cooled down. Not so, however: Lameth, proceeding to his senatorial duties, in thedecline of the day, is met in those Assembly corridors by nothing butRoyalist brocards; sniffs, huffs, and open insults. Human patience hasits limits: "Monsieur, " said Lameth, breaking silence to one Lautrec, a man with hunchback, or natural deformity, but sharp of tongue, anda Black of the deepest tint, "Monsieur, if you were a man to be foughtwith!"--"I am one, " cries the young Duke de Castries. Fast as fire-flashLameth replies, "Tout a l'heure, On the instant, then!" And so, as theshades of dusk thicken in that Bois-de-Boulogne, we behold two men withlion-look, with alert attitude, side foremost, right foot advanced;flourishing and thrusting, stoccado and passado, in tierce and quart;intent to skewer one another. See, with most skewering purpose, headlongLameth, with his whole weight, makes a furious lunge; but deft Castrieswhisks aside: Lameth skewers only the air, --and slits deep and far, on Castries' sword's-point, his own extended left arm! Whereuponwith bleeding, pallor, surgeon's-lint, and formalities, the Duel isconsidered satisfactorily done. But will there be no end, then? Beloved Lameth lies deep-slit, not outof danger. Black traitorous Aristocrats kill the People's defenders, cutup not with arguments, but with rapier-slits. And the Twelve Spadassinsout of Switzerland, and the considerable number of Assassins exercisingat the pistol-target? So meditates and ejaculates hurt Patriotism, withever-deepening ever-widening fervour, for the space of six and thirtyhours. The thirty-six hours past, on Saturday the 13th, one beholds anew spectacle: The Rue de Varennes, and neighbouring Boulevard desInvalides, covered with a mixed flowing multitude: the Castries Hotelgone distracted, devil-ridden, belching from every window, 'beds withclothes and curtains, ' plate of silver and gold with filigree, mirrors, pictures, images, commodes, chiffoniers, and endless crockery andjingle: amid steady popular cheers, absolutely without theft; forthere goes a cry, "He shall be hanged that steals a nail!" It is aPlebiscitum, or informal iconoclastic Decree of the Common People, in the course of being executed!--The Municipality sit tremulous;deliberating whether they will hang out the Drapeau Rouge and MartialLaw: National Assembly, part in loud wail, part in hardly suppressedapplause: Abbe Maury unable to decide whether the iconoclastic Plebsamount to forty thousand or to two hundred thousand. Deputations, swift messengers, for it is at a distance over the River, come and go. Lafayette and National Guardes, though without DrapeauRouge, get under way; apparently in no hot haste. Nay, arrived onthe scene, Lafayette salutes with doffed hat, before ordering to fixbayonets. What avails it? The Plebeian "Court of Cassation, " as Camillemight punningly name it, has done its work; steps forth, with unbuttonedvest, with pockets turned inside out: sack, and just ravage, not plunder! With inexhaustible patience, the Hero of two Worldsremonstrates; persuasively, with a kind of sweet constraint, though alsowith fixed bayonets, dissipates, hushes down: on the morrow it is oncemore all as usual. Considering which things, however, Duke Castries may justly 'write tothe President, ' justly transport himself across the Marches; to raisea corps, or do what else is in him. Royalism totally abandons thatBobadilian method of contest, and the Twelve Spadassins return toSwitzerland, --or even to Dreamland through the Horn-gate, whichsoevertheir home is. Nay Editor Prudhomme is authorised to publish a curiousthing: 'We are authorised to publish, ' says he, dull-blusteringPublisher, that M. Boyer, champion of good Patriots, is at the headof Fifty Spadassinicides or Bully-killers. His address is: Passage duBois-de-Boulonge, Faubourg St. Denis. ' (Revolutions de Paris (in Hist. Parl. Viii. 440). ) One of the strangest Institutes, this of ChampionBoyer and the Bully-killers! Whose services, however, are not wanted;Royalism having abandoned the rapier-method as plainly impracticable. Chapter 2. 3. IV. To fly or not to fly. The truth is Royalism sees itself verging towards sad extremities;nearer and nearer daily. From over the Rhine it comes asserted that theKing in his Tuileries is not free: this the poor King may contradict, with the official mouth, but in his heart feels often to be undeniable. Civil Constitution of the Clergy; Decree of ejectment against Dissidentsfrom it: not even to this latter, though almost his conscience rebels, can he say 'Nay; but, after two months' hesitating, signs this also. Itwas on January 21st, ' of this 1790, that he signed it; to the sorrowof his poor heart yet, on another Twenty-first of January! Whereby comeDissident ejected Priests; unconquerable Martyrs according to some, incurable chicaning Traitors according to others. And so there hasarrived what we once foreshadowed: with Religion, or with the Cantand Echo of Religion, all France is rent asunder in a new rupture ofcontinuity; complicating, embittering all the older;--to be cured only, by stern surgery, in La Vendee! Unhappy Royalty, unhappy Majesty, Hereditary (Representative), Representant Hereditaire, or however they can name him; of whom much isexpected, to whom little is given! Blue National Guards encirclethat Tuileries; a Lafayette, thin constitutional Pedant; clear, thin, inflexible, as water, turned to thin ice; whom no Queen's heart canlove. National Assembly, its pavilion spread where we know, sits nearby, keeping continual hubbub. From without nothing but Nanci Revolts, sack of Castries Hotels, riots and seditions; riots, North and South, atAix, at Douai, at Befort, Usez, Perpignan, at Nismes, and that incurableAvignon of the Pope's: a continual crackling and sputtering of riotsfrom the whole face of France;--testifying how electric it grows. Addonly the hard winter, the famished strikes of operatives; that continualrunning-bass of Scarcity, ground-tone and basis of all other Discords! The plan of Royalty, so far as it can be said to have any fixed plan, isstill, as ever, that of flying towards the frontiers. In very truth, the only plan of the smallest promise for it! Fly to Bouille; bristleyourself round with cannon, served by your 'forty-thousand undebauchedGermans:' summon the National Assembly to follow you, summon what of itis Royalist, Constitutional, gainable by money; dissolve the rest, bygrapeshot if need be. Let Jacobinism and Revolt, with one wild wail, flyinto Infinite Space; driven by grapeshot. Thunder over France with thecannon's mouth; commanding, not entreating, that this riot cease. Andthen to rule afterwards with utmost possible Constitutionality; doingjustice, loving mercy; being Shepherd of this indigent People, notShearer merely, and Shepherd's-similitude! All this, if ye dare. If yedare not, then in Heaven's name go to sleep: other handsome alternativeseems none. Nay, it were perhaps possible; with a man to do it. For if suchinexpressible whirlpool of Babylonish confusions (which our Era is)cannot be stilled by man, but only by Time and men, a man may moderateits paroxysms, may balance and sway, and keep himself unswallowed on thetop of it, --as several men and Kings in these days do. Much is possiblefor a man; men will obey a man that kens and cans, and name himreverently their Ken-ning or King. Did not Charlemagne rule? Considertoo whether he had smooth times of it; hanging 'thirty-thousand Saxonsover the Weser-Bridge, ' at one dread swoop! So likewise, who knows but, in this same distracted fanatic France, the right man may verily exist?An olive-complexioned taciturn man; for the present, Lieutenant in theArtillery-service, who once sat studying Mathematics at Brienne? Thesame who walked in the morning to correct proof-sheets at Dole, andenjoyed a frugal breakfast with M. Joly? Such a one is gone, whitheralso famed General Paoli his friend is gone, in these very days, tosee old scenes in native Corsica, and what Democratic good can be donethere. Royalty never executes the evasion-plan, yet never abandons it; livingin variable hope; undecisive, till fortune shall decide. In utmostsecresy, a brisk Correspondence goes on with Bouille; there is also aplot, which emerges more than once, for carrying the King to Rouen: (SeeHist. Parl. Vii. 316; Bertrand-Moleville, &c. ) plot after plot, emergingand submerging, like 'ignes fatui in foul weather, which lead nowhither. About 'ten o'clock at night, ' the Hereditary Representative, inpartie quarree, with the Queen, with Brother Monsieur, and Madame, sits playing 'wisk, ' or whist. Usher Campan enters mysteriously, with amessage he only half comprehends: How a certain Compte d'Inisdal waitsanxious in the outer antechamber; National Colonel, Captain of the watchfor this night, is gained over; post-horses ready all the way; party ofNoblesse sitting armed, determined; will His Majesty, before midnight, consent to go? Profound silence; Campan waiting with upturned ear. "Didyour Majesty hear what Campan said?" asks the Queen. "Yes, I heard, "answers Majesty, and plays on. "'Twas a pretty couplet, that ofCampan's, " hints Monsieur, who at times showed a pleasant wit: Majesty, still unresponsive, plays wisk. "After all, one must say something toCampan, " remarks the Queen. "Tell M. D'Inisdal, " said the King, and theQueen puts an emphasis on it, "that the King cannot consent to be forcedaway. "--"I see!" said d'Inisdal, whisking round, peaking himself intoflame of irritancy: "we have the risk; we are to have all the blameif it fail, " (Campan, ii. 105. )--and vanishes, he and his plot, aswill-o'-wisps do. The Queen sat till far in the night, packingjewels: but it came to nothing; in that peaked frame of irritancy theWill-o'-wisp had gone out. Little hope there is in all this. Alas, with whom to fly? Our loyalGardes-du-Corps, ever since the Insurrection of Women, are disbanded;gone to their homes; gone, many of them, across the Rhine towardsCoblentz and Exiled Princes: brave Miomandre and brave Tardivet, thesefaithful Two, have received, in nocturnal interview with both Majesties, their viaticum of gold louis, of heartfelt thanks from a Queen's lips, though unluckily 'his Majesty stood, back to fire, not speaking;'(Campan, ii. 109-11. ) and do now dine through the Provinces; recountinghairsbreadth escapes, insurrectionary horrors. Great horrors; to beswallowed yet of greater. But on the whole what a falling off from theold splendour of Versailles! Here in this poor Tuileries, a NationalBrewer-Colonel, sonorous Santerre, parades officially behind herMajesty's chair. Our high dignitaries, all fled over the Rhine: nothingnow to be gained at Court; but hopes, for which life itself must berisked! Obscure busy men frequent the back stairs; with hearsays, windprojects, un fruitful fanfaronades. Young Royalists, at the Theatrede Vaudeville, 'sing couplets;' if that could do any thing. Royalistsenough, Captains on furlough, burnt-out Seigneurs, may likewise be metwith, 'in the Cafe de Valois, and at Meot the Restaurateur's. ' Therethey fan one another into high loyal glow; drink, in such wine as canbe procured, confusion to Sansculottism; shew purchased dirks, ofan improved structure, made to order; and, greatly daring, dine. (Dampmartin, ii. 129. ) It is in these places, in these months, that theepithet Sansculotte first gets applied to indigent Patriotism; inthe last age we had Gilbert Sansculotte, the indigent Poet. (Mercier, Nouveau Paris, iii. 204. ) Destitute-of-Breeches: a mournful Destitution;which however, if Twenty millions share it, may become more effectivethan most Possessions! Meanwhile, amid this vague dim whirl of fanfaronades, wind-projects, poniards made to order, there does disclose itself one punctum-saliensof life and feasibility: the finger of Mirabeau! Mirabeau and the Queenof France have met; have parted with mutual trust! It is strange;secret as the Mysteries; but it is indubitable. Mirabeau took horse, oneevening; and rode westward, unattended, --to see Friend Claviere in thatcountry house of his? Before getting to Claviere's, the much-musinghorseman struck aside to a back gate of the Garden of Saint-Cloud: someDuke d'Aremberg, or the like, was there to introduce him; the Queen wasnot far: on a 'round knoll, rond point, the highest of the Garden ofSaint-Cloud, ' he beheld the Queen's face; spake with her, alone, underthe void canopy of Night. What an interview; fateful secret for us, after all searching; like the colloquies of the gods! (Campan, ii. C. 17. ) She called him 'a Mirabeau:' elsewhere we read that she 'wascharmed with him, ' the wild submitted Titan; as indeed it is amongthe honourable tokens of this high ill-fated heart that no mind of anyendowment, no Mirabeau, nay no Barnave, no Dumouriez, ever came faceto face with her but, in spite of all prepossessions, she was forced torecognise it, to draw nigh to it, with trust. High imperial heart; withthe instinctive attraction towards all that had any height! "You knownot the Queen, " said Mirabeau once in confidence; "her force of mind isprodigious; she is a man for courage. " (Dumont, p. 211. )--And so, under the void Night, on the crown of that knoll, she has spoken witha Mirabeau: he has kissed loyally the queenly hand, and said withenthusiasm: "Madame, the Monarchy is saved!"--Possible? The ForeignPowers, mysteriously sounded, gave favourable guarded response;(Correspondence Secrete (in Hist. Parl. Viii. 169-73). ) Bouille is atMetz, and could find forty-thousand sure Germans. With a Mirabeau forhead, and a Bouille for hand, something verily is possible, --if Fateintervene not. But figure under what thousandfold wrappages, and cloaks of darkness, Royalty, meditating these things, must involve itself. There are menwith 'Tickets of Entrance;' there are chivalrous consultings, mysteriousplottings. Consider also whether, involve as it like, plotting Royaltycan escape the glance of Patriotism; lynx-eyes, by the ten thousandfixed on it, which see in the dark! Patriotism knows much: know thedirks made to order, and can specify the shops; knows Sieur Motier'slegions of mouchards; the Tickets of Entree, and men in black; and howplan of evasion succeeds plan, --or may be supposed to succeed it. Thenconceive the couplets chanted at the Theatre de Vaudeville; or worse, the whispers, significant nods of traitors in moustaches. Conceive, on the other hand, the loud cry of alarm that came through theHundred-and-Thirty Journals; the Dionysius'-Ear of each of theForty-eight Sections, wakeful night and day. Patriotism is patient of much; not patient of all. The Cafe de Procopehas sent, visibly along the streets, a Deputation of Patriots, 'toexpostulate with bad Editors, ' by trustful word of mouth: singular tosee and hear. The bad Editors promise to amend, but do not. Deputationsfor change of Ministry were many; Mayor Bailly joining even withCordelier Danton in such: and they have prevailed. With what profit? OfQuacks, willing or constrained to be Quacks, the race is everlasting:Ministers Duportail and Dutertre will have to manage much as MinistersLatour-du-Pin and Cice did. So welters the confused world. But now, beaten on for ever by such inextricable contradictoryinfluences and evidences, what is the indigent French Patriot, in theseunhappy days, to believe, and walk by? Uncertainty all; except that heis wretched, indigent; that a glorious Revolution, the wonder of theUniverse, has hitherto brought neither Bread nor Peace; being marredby traitors, difficult to discover. Traitors that dwell in the dark, invisible there;--or seen for moments, in pallid dubious twilight, stealthily vanishing thither! Preternatural Suspicion once more rulesthe minds of men. 'Nobody here, ' writes Carra of the Annales Patriotiques, so early asthe first of February, 'can entertain a doubt of the constant obstinateproject these people have on foot to get the King away; or of theperpetual succession of manoeuvres they employ for that. ' Nobody: thewatchful Mother of Patriotism deputed two Members to her Daughter atVersailles, to examine how the matter looked there. Well, and there?Patriotic Carra continues: 'The Report of these two deputies weall heard with our own ears last Saturday. They went with others ofVersailles, to inspect the King's Stables, also the stables of thewhilom Gardes du Corps; they found there from seven to eight hundredhorses standing always saddled and bridled, ready for the road at amoment's notice. The same deputies, moreover, saw with their own twoeyes several Royal Carriages, which men were even then busy loading withlarge well-stuffed luggage-bags, ' leather cows, as we call them, 'vaches de cuir; the Royal Arms on the panels almost entirely effaced. 'Momentous enough! Also, 'on the same day the whole Marechaussee, orCavalry Police, did assemble with arms, horses and baggage, '--anddisperse again. They want the King over the marches, that so EmperorLeopold and the German Princes, whose troops are ready, may have apretext for beginning: 'this, ' adds Carra, 'is the word of the riddle:this is the reason why our fugitive Aristocrats are now making leviesof men on the frontiers; expecting that, one of these mornings, theExecutive Chief Magistrate will be brought over to them, and the civilwar commence. ' (Carra's Newspaper, 1st Feb. 1791 (in Hist. Parl. Ix. 39). ) If indeed the Executive Chief Magistrate, bagged, say in one of theseleather cows, were once brought safe over to them! But the strangestthing of all is that Patriotism, whether barking at a venture, or guidedby some instinct of preternatural sagacity, is actually barkingaright this time; at something, not at nothing. Bouille's SecretCorrespondence, since made public, testifies as much. Nay, it is undeniable, visible to all, that Mesdames the King's Auntsare taking steps for departure: asking passports of the Ministry, safe-conducts of the Municipality; which Marat warns all men to bewareof. They will carry gold with them, 'these old Beguines;' nay they willcarry the little Dauphin, 'having nursed a changeling, for some time, toleave in his stead!' Besides, they are as some light substance flung up, to shew how the wind sits; a kind of proof-kite you fly off to ascertainwhether the grand paper-kite, Evasion of the King, may mount! In these alarming circumstances, Patriotism is not wanting to itself. Municipality deputes to the King; Sections depute to the Municipality;a National Assembly will soon stir. Meanwhile, behold, on the 19thof February 1791, Mesdames, quitting Bellevue and Versailles with allprivacy, are off! Towards Rome, seemingly; or one knows not whither. They are not without King's passports, countersigned; and what is moreto the purpose, a serviceable Escort. The Patriotic Mayor or Mayorlet ofthe Village of Moret tried to detain them; but brisk Louis de Narbonne, of the Escort, dashed off at hand-gallop; returned soon with thirtydragoons, and victoriously cut them out. And so the poor ancientwomen go their way; to the terror of France and Paris, whose nervousexcitability is become extreme. Who else would hinder poor Loqueand Graille, now grown so old, and fallen into such unexpectedcircumstances, when gossip itself turning only on terrors and horrorsis no longer pleasant to the mind, and you cannot get so much as anorthodox confessor in peace, --from going what way soever the hope of anysolacement might lead them? They go, poor ancient dames, --whom the heart were hard that doesnot pity: they go; with palpitations, with unmelodious suppressedscreechings; all France, screeching and cackling, in loud unsuppressedterror, behind and on both hands of them: such mutual suspicion isamong men. At Arnay le Duc, above halfway to the frontiers, a PatrioticMunicipality and Populace again takes courage to stop them: LouisNarbonne must now back to Paris, must consult the National Assembly. National Assembly answers, not without an effort, that Mesdames maygo. Whereupon Paris rises worse than ever, screeching half-distracted. Tuileries and precincts are filled with women and men, while theNational Assembly debates this question of questions; Lafayetteis needed at night for dispersing them, and the streets are to beilluminated. Commandant Berthier, a Berthier before whom are greatthings unknown, lies for the present under blockade at Bellevue inVersailles. By no tactics could he get Mesdames' Luggage stirred fromthe Courts there; frantic Versaillese women came screaming about him;his very troops cut the waggon-traces; he retired to the interior, waiting better times. (Campan, ii. 132. ) Nay, in these same hours, while Mesdames hardly cut out from Moret bythe sabre's edge, are driving rapidly, to foreign parts, and not yetstopped at Arnay, their august nephew poor Monsieur, at Paris has diveddeep into his cellars of the Luxembourg for shelter; and according toMontgaillard can hardly be persuaded up again. Screeching multitudesenviron that Luxembourg of his: drawn thither by report of hisdeparture: but, at sight and sound of Monsieur, they become crowingmultitudes; and escort Madame and him to the Tuileries with vivats. (Montgaillard, ii. 282; Deux Amis, vi. C. 1. ) It is a state of nervousexcitability such as few Nations know. Chapter 2. 3. V. The Day of Poniards. Or, again, what means this visible reparation of the Castle ofVincennes? Other Jails being all crowded with prisoners, new space iswanted here: that is the Municipal account. For in such changing ofJudicatures, Parlements being abolished, and New Courts but just set up, prisoners have accumulated. Not to say that in these times of discordand club-law, offences and committals are, at any rate, more numerous. Which Municipal account, does it not sufficiently explain thephenomenon? Surely, to repair the Castle of Vincennes was of allenterprises that an enlightened Municipality could undertake, the mostinnocent. Not so however does neighbouring Saint-Antoine look on it: Saint-Antoineto whom these peaked turrets and grim donjons, all-too near her owndark dwelling, are of themselves an offence. Was not Vincennes a kind ofminor Bastille? Great Diderot and Philosophes have lain in durance here;great Mirabeau, in disastrous eclipse, for forty-two months. And nowwhen the old Bastille has become a dancing-ground (had any one the mirthto dance), and its stones are getting built into the Pont Louis-Seize, does this minor, comparative insignificance of a Bastille flankitself with fresh-hewn mullions, spread out tyrannous wings; menacingPatriotism? New space for prisoners: and what prisoners? A d'Orleans, with the chief Patriots on the tip of the Left? It is said, there runs'a subterranean passage' all the way from the Tuileries hither. Whoknows? Paris, mined with quarries and catacombs, does hang wondrous overthe abyss; Paris was once to be blown up, --though the powder, whenwe went to look, had got withdrawn. A Tuileries, sold to Austria andCoblentz, should have no subterranean passage. Out of which might notCoblentz or Austria issue, some morning; and, with cannon of long range, 'foudroyer, ' bethunder a patriotic Saint-Antoine into smoulder and ruin! So meditates the benighted soul of Saint-Antoine, as it sees the apronedworkmen, in early spring, busy on these towers. An official-speakingMunicipality, a Sieur Motier with his legions of mouchards, deserve notrust at all. Were Patriot Santerre, indeed, Commander! But the sonorousBrewer commands only our own Battalion: of such secrets he can explainnothing, knows nothing, perhaps suspects much. And so the work goeson; and afflicted benighted Saint-Antoine hears rattle of hammers, seesstones suspended in air. (Montgaillard, ii. 285. ) Saint-Antoine prostrated the first great Bastille: will it falter overthis comparative insignificance of a Bastille? Friends, what if we tookpikes, firelocks, sledgehammers; and helped ourselves!--Speedier is noremedy; nor so certain. On the 28th day of February, Saint-Antoine turnsout, as it has now often done; and, apparently with little superfluoustumult, moves eastward to that eye-sorrow of Vincennes. With grave voiceof authority, no need of bullying and shouting, Saint-Antoine signifiesto parties concerned there that its purpose is, To have thissuspicious Stronghold razed level with the general soil of the country. Remonstrance may be proffered, with zeal: but it avails not. The outergate goes up, drawbridges tumble; iron window-stanchions, smittenout with sledgehammers, become iron-crowbars: it rains furniture, stone-masses, slates: with chaotic clatter and rattle, Demolitionclatters down. And now hasty expresses rush through the agitatedstreets, to warn Lafayette, and the Municipal and DepartmentalAuthorities; Rumour warns a National Assembly, a Royal Tuileries, andall men who care to hear it: That Saint-Antoine is up; that Vincennes, and probably the last remaining Institution of the Country, is comingdown. (Deux Amis, vi. 11-15; Newspapers (in Hist. Parl. Ix. 111-17). ) Quick, then! Let Lafayette roll his drums and fly eastward; for to allConstitutional Patriots this is again bad news. And you, ye Friends ofRoyalty, snatch your poniards of improved structure, made to order; yoursword-canes, secret arms, and tickets of entry; quick, by backstairspassages, rally round the Son of Sixty Kings. An effervescence probablygot up by d'Orleans and Company, for the overthrow of Throne and Altar:it is said her Majesty shall be put in prison, put out of the way; whatthen will his Majesty be? Clay for the Sansculottic Potter! Or wereit impossible to fly this day; a brave Noblesse suddenly all rallying?Peril threatens, hope invites: Dukes de Villequier, de Duras, Gentlemenof the Chamber give tickets and admittance; a brave Noblesse is suddenlyall rallying. Now were the time to 'fall sword in hand on those gentrythere, ' could it be done with effect. The Hero of two Worlds is on his white charger; blue Nationals, horseand foot, hurrying eastward: Santerre, with the Saint-Antoine Battalion, is already there, --apparently indisposed to act. Heavy-laden Hero of twoWorlds, what tasks are these! The jeerings, provocative gambollings ofthat Patriot Suburb, which is all out on the streets now, are hard toendure; unwashed Patriots jeering in sulky sport; one unwashed Patriot'seizing the General by the boot' to unhorse him. Santerre, orderedto fire, makes answer obliquely, "These are the men that took theBastille;" and not a trigger stirs! Neither dare the VincennesMagistracy give warrant of arrestment, or the smallest countenance:wherefore the General 'will take it on himself' to arrest. Bypromptitude, by cheerful adroitness, patience and brisk valour withoutlimits, the riot may be again bloodlessly appeased. Meanwhile, the rest of Paris, with more or less unconcern, may mind therest of its business: for what is this but an effervescence, of whichthere are now so many? The National Assembly, in one of its stormiestmoods, is debating a Law against Emigration; Mirabeau declaring aloud, "I swear beforehand that I will not obey it. " Mirabeau is often at theTribune this day; with endless impediments from without; with the oldunabated energy from within. What can murmurs and clamours, from Leftor from Right, do to this man; like Teneriffe or Atlas unremoved? Withclear thought; with strong bass-voice, though at first low, uncertain, he claims audience, sways the storm of men: anon the sound of him waxes, softens; he rises into far-sounding melody of strength, triumphant, which subdues all hearts; his rude-seamed face, desolate fire-scathed, becomes fire-lit, and radiates: once again men feel, in these beggarlyages, what is the potency and omnipotency of man's word on the souls ofmen. "I will triumph or be torn in fragments, " he was once heard tosay. "Silence, " he cries now, in strong word of command, in imperialconsciousness of strength, "Silence, the thirty voices, Silenceaux trente voix!"--and Robespierre and the Thirty Voices die intomutterings; and the Law is once more as Mirabeau would have it. How different, at the same instant, is General Lafayette's streeteloquence; wrangling with sonorous Brewers, with an ungrammaticalSaint-Antoine! Most different, again, from both is the Cafe-de-Valoiseloquence, and suppressed fanfaronade, of this multitude of men withTickets of Entry; who are now inundating the Corridors of the Tuileries. Such things can go on simultaneously in one City. How much more inone Country; in one Planet with its discrepancies, every Day a merecrackling infinitude of discrepancies--which nevertheless do yield somecoherent net-product, though an infinitesimally small one! Be this as it may. Lafayette has saved Vincennes; and is marchinghomewards with some dozen of arrested demolitionists. Royalty is notyet saved;--nor indeed specially endangered. But to the King'sConstitutional Guard, to these old Gardes Francaises, or CentreGrenadiers, as it chanced to be, this affluence of men with Tickets ofEntry is becoming more and more unintelligible. Is his Majesty verilyfor Metz, then; to be carried off by these men, on the spur of theinstant? That revolt of Saint-Antoine got up by traitor Royalists for astalking-horse? Keep a sharp outlook, ye Centre Grenadiers on dutyhere: good never came from the 'men in black. ' Nay they have cloaks, redingotes; some of them leather-breeches, boots, --as if for instantriding! Or what is this that sticks visible from the lapelle ofChevalier de Court? (Weber, ii. 286. ) Too like the handle of somecutting or stabbing instrument! He glides and goes; and still thedudgeon sticks from his left lapelle. "Hold, Monsieur!"--a CentreGrenadier clutches him; clutches the protrusive dudgeon, whisks it outin the face of the world: by Heaven, a very dagger; hunting-knife, orwhatsoever you call it; fit to drink the life of Patriotism! So fared it with Chevalier de Court, early in the day; not withoutnoise; not without commentaries. And now this continually increasingmultitude at nightfall? Have they daggers too? Alas, with them too, after angry parleyings, there has begun a groping and a rummaging;all men in black, spite of their Tickets of Entry, are clutched by thecollar, and groped. Scandalous to think of; for always, as the dirk, sword-cane, pistol, or were it but tailor's bodkin, is found on him, andwith loud scorn drawn forth from him, he, the hapless man in black, isflung all too rapidly down stairs. Flung; and ignominiously descends, head foremost; accelerated by ignominious shovings from sentry aftersentry; nay, as is written, by smitings, twitchings, --spurnings, aposteriori, not to be named. In this accelerated way, emerges, uncertainwhich end uppermost, man after man in black, through all issues, intothe Tuileries Garden. Emerges, alas, into the arms of an indignantmultitude, now gathered and gathering there, in the hour of dusk, to seewhat is toward, and whether the Hereditary Representative is carriedoff or not. Hapless men in black; at last convicted of poniards made toorder; convicted 'Chevaliers of the Poniard!' Within is as the burningship; without is as the deep sea. Within is no help; his Majesty, looking forth, one moment, from his interior sanctuaries, coldly bidsall visitors 'give up their weapons;' and shuts the door again. Theweapons given up form a heap: the convicted Chevaliers of the poniardkeep descending pellmell, with impetuous velocity; and at the bottomof all staircases, the mixed multitude receives them, hustles, buffets, chases and disperses them. (Hist. Parl. Ix. 139-48. ) Such sight meets Lafayette, in the dusk of the evening, as he returns, successful with difficulty at Vincennes: Sansculotte Scylla hardlyweathered, here is Aristocrat Charybdis gurgling under his lee! Thepatient Hero of two Worlds almost loses temper. He accelerates, doesnot retard, the flying Chevaliers; delivers, indeed, this or the otherhunted Loyalist of quality, but rates him in bitter words, such asthe hour suggested; such as no saloon could pardon. Hero ill-bested;hanging, so to speak, in mid-air; hateful to Rich divinities above;hateful to Indigent mortals below! Duke de Villequier, Gentleman of theChamber, gets such contumelious rating, in presence of all people there, that he may see good first to exculpate himself in the Newspapers; then, that not prospering, to retire over the Frontiers, and begin plottingat Brussels. (Montgaillard, ii. 286. ) His Apartment will stand vacant;usefuller, as we may find, than when it stood occupied. So fly the Chevaliers of the Poniard; hunted of Patriotic men, shamefully in the thickening dusk. A dim miserable business; born ofdarkness; dying away there in the thickening dusk and dimness! In themidst of which, however, let the reader discern clearly one figurerunning for its life: Crispin-Cataline d'Espremenil, --for the last time, or the last but one. It is not yet three years since these same CentreGrenadiers, Gardes Francaises then, marched him towards the CalypsoIsles, in the gray of the May morning; and he and they have got thusfar. Buffeted, beaten down, delivered by popular Petion, he might wellanswer bitterly: "And I too, Monsieur, have been carried on the People'sshoulders. " (See Mercier, ii. 40, 202. ) A fact which popular Petion, ifhe like, can meditate. But happily, one way and another, the speedy night covers up thisignominious Day of Poniards; and the Chevaliers escape, thoughmaltreated, with torn coat-skirts and heavy hearts, to their respectivedwelling-houses. Riot twofold is quelled; and little blood shed, if itbe not insignificant blood from the nose: Vincennes stands undemolished, reparable; and the Hereditary Representative has not been stolen, northe Queen smuggled into Prison. A Day long remembered: commented on withloud hahas and deep grumblings; with bitter scornfulness of triumph, bitter rancour of defeat. Royalism, as usual, imputes it to d'Orleansand the Anarchists intent on insulting Majesty: Patriotism, as usual, to Royalists, and even Constitutionalists, intent on stealing Majesty toMetz: we, also as usual, to Preternatural Suspicion, and Phoebus Apollohaving made himself like the Night. Thus however has the reader seen, in an unexpected arena, on this lastday of February 1791, the Three long-contending elements of FrenchSociety, dashed forth into singular comico-tragical collision; actingand reacting openly to the eye. Constitutionalism, at once quellingSansculottic riot at Vincennes, and Royalist treachery from theTuileries, is great, this day, and prevails. As for poor Royalism, tossed to and fro in that manner, its daggers all left in a heap, whatcan one think of it? Every dog, the Adage says, has its day: has it; hashad it; or will have it. For the present, the day is Lafayette's andthe Constitution's. Nevertheless Hunger and Jacobinism, fast growingfanatical, still work; their-day, were they once fanatical, will come. Hitherto, in all tempests, Lafayette, like some divine Sea-ruler, raiseshis serene head: the upper Aeolus's blasts fly back to their caves, likefoolish unbidden winds: the under sea-billows they had vexed into frothallay themselves. But if, as we often write, the submarine TitanicFire-powers came into play, the Ocean bed from beneath being burst? Ifthey hurled Poseidon Lafayette and his Constitution out of Space; and, in the Titanic melee, sea were mixed with sky? Chapter 2. 3. VI. Mirabeau. The spirit of France waxes ever more acrid, fever-sick: towards thefinal outburst of dissolution and delirium. Suspicion rules all minds:contending parties cannot now commingle; stand separated sheer asunder, eying one another, in most aguish mood, of cold terror or hot rage. Counter-Revolution, Days of Poniards, Castries Duels; Flight ofMesdames, of Monsieur and Royalty! Journalism shrills ever louder itscry of alarm. The sleepless Dionysius's Ear of the Forty-eight Sections, how feverishly quick has it grown; convulsing with strange pangs thewhole sick Body, as in such sleeplessness and sickness, the ear will do! Since Royalists get Poniards made to order, and a Sieur Motier is nobetter than he should be, shall not Patriotism too, even of the indigentsort, have Pikes, secondhand Firelocks, in readiness for the worst?The anvils ring, during this March month, with hammering of Pikes. AConstitutional Municipality promulgated its Placard, that no citizenexcept the 'active or cash-citizen' was entitled to have arms; but thererose, instantly responsive, such a tempest of astonishment from Club andSection, that the Constitutional Placard, almost next morning, hadto cover itself up, and die away into inanity, in a second improvededition. (Ordonnance du 17 Mars 1791 (Hist. Parl. Ix. 257). ) So thehammering continues; as all that it betokens does. Mark, again, how the extreme tip of the Left is mounting in favour, if not in its own National Hall, yet with the Nation, especially withParis. For in such universal panic of doubt, the opinion that is sure ofitself, as the meagrest opinion may the soonest be, is the one to whichall men will rally. Great is Belief, were it never so meagre; and leadscaptive the doubting heart! Incorruptible Robespierre has been electedPublic Accuser in our new Courts of Judicature; virtuous Petion, itis thought, may rise to be Mayor. Cordelier Danton, called also bytriumphant majorities, sits at the Departmental Council-table; colleaguethere of Mirabeau. Of incorruptible Robespierre it was long agopredicted that he might go far, mean meagre mortal though he was; forDoubt dwelt not in him. Under which circumstances ought not Royalty likewise to cease doubting, and begin deciding and acting? Royalty has always that sure trump-cardin its hand: Flight out of Paris. Which sure trump-card, Royalty, as wesee, keeps ever and anon clutching at, grasping; and swashes it forthtentatively; yet never tables it, still puts it back again. Play it, ORoyalty! If there be a chance left, this seems it, and verily the lastchance; and now every hour is rendering this a doubtfuller. Alas, onewould so fain both fly and not fly; play one's card and have it to play. Royalty, in all human likelihood, will not play its trump-card till thehonours, one after one, be mainly lost; and such trumping of it prove tobe the sudden finish of the game! Here accordingly a question always arises; of the prophetic sort; whichcannot now be answered. Suppose Mirabeau, with whom Royalty takes deepcounsel, as with a Prime Minister that cannot yet legally avow himselfas such, had got his arrangements completed? Arrangements he has;far-stretching plans that dawn fitfully on us, by fragments, in theconfused darkness. Thirty Departments ready to sign loyal Addresses, ofprescribed tenor: King carried out of Paris, but only to Compiegne andRouen, hardly to Metz, since, once for all, no Emigrant rabble shalltake the lead in it: National Assembly consenting, by dint of loyalAddresses, by management, by force of Bouille, to hear reason, andfollow thither! (See Fils Adoptif, vii. 1. 6; Dumont, c. 11, 12, 14. )Was it so, on these terms, that Jacobinism and Mirabeau were then tograpple, in their Hercules-and-Typhon duel; death inevitable for the oneor the other? The duel itself is determined on, and sure: but onwhat terms; much more, with what issue, we in vain guess. It is vaguedarkness all: unknown what is to be; unknown even what has already been. The giant Mirabeau walks in darkness, as we said; companionless, onwild ways: what his thoughts during these months were, no record ofBiographer, not vague Fils Adoptif, will now ever disclose. To us, endeavouring to cast his horoscope, it of course remains doublyvague. There is one Herculean man, in internecine duel with him, thereis Monster after Monster. Emigrant Noblesse return, sword on thigh, vaunting of their Loyalty never sullied; descending from the air, likeHarpy-swarms with ferocity, with obscene greed. Earthward there is theTyphon of Anarchy, Political, Religious; sprawling hundred-headed, saywith Twenty-five million heads; wide as the area of France; fierce asFrenzy; strong in very Hunger. With these shall the Serpent-queller dobattle continually, and expect no rest. As for the King, he as usual will go wavering chameleonlike; changingcolour and purpose with the colour of his environment;--good for noKingly use. On one royal person, on the Queen only, can Mirabeauperhaps place dependance. It is possible, the greatness of this man, notunskilled too in blandishments, courtiership, and graceful adroitness, might, with most legitimate sorcery, fascinate the volatile Queen, and fix her to him. She has courage for all noble daring; an eye and aheart: the soul of Theresa's Daughter. 'Faut il-donc, Is it fated then, 'she passionately writes to her Brother, 'that I with the blood I am comeof, with the sentiments I have, must live and die among such mortals?'(Fils Adoptif, ubi supra. ) Alas, poor Princess, Yes. 'She is the onlyman, ' as Mirabeau observes, 'whom his Majesty has about him. ' Of oneother man Mirabeau is still surer: of himself. There lies his resources;sufficient or insufficient. Dim and great to the eye of Prophecy looks the future! A perpetuallife-and-death battle; confusion from above and from below;--mereconfused darkness for us; with here and there some streak of faint luridlight. We see King perhaps laid aside; not tonsured, tonsuring is outof fashion now; but say, sent away any whither, with handsome annualallowance, and stock of smith-tools. We see a Queen and Dauphin, Regentand Minor; a Queen 'mounted on horseback, ' in the din of battles, withMoriamur pro rege nostro! 'Such a day, ' Mirabeau writes, 'may come. ' Din of battles, wars more than civil, confusion from above and frombelow: in such environment the eye of Prophecy sees Comte de Mirabeau, like some Cardinal de Retz, stormfully maintain himself; with headall-devising, heart all-daring, if not victorious, yet unvanquished, while life is left him. The specialties and issues of it, no eye ofProphecy can guess at: it is clouds, we repeat, and tempestuous night;and in the middle of it, now visible, far darting, now labouring ineclipse, is Mirabeau indomitably struggling to be Cloud-Compeller!--Onecan say that, had Mirabeau lived, the History of France and of the Worldhad been different. Further, that the man would have needed, as few menever did, the whole compass of that same 'Art of Daring, Art d'Oser, 'which he so prized; and likewise that he, above all men thenliving, would have practised and manifested it. Finally, that somesubstantiality, and no empty simulacrum of a formula, would have beenthe result realised by him: a result you could have loved, a resultyou could have hated; by no likelihood, a result you could only haverejected with closed lips, and swept into quick forgetfulness for ever. Had Mirabeau lived one other year! Chapter 2. 3. VII. Death of Mirabeau. But Mirabeau could not live another year, any more than he could liveanother thousand years. Men's years are numbered, and the tale ofMirabeau's was now complete. Important, or unimportant; to be mentionedin World-History for some centuries, or not to be mentioned there beyonda day or two, --it matters not to peremptory Fate. From amid the pressof ruddy busy Life, the Pale Messenger beckons silently: wide-spreadinginterests, projects, salvation of French Monarchies, what thing soeverman has on hand, he must suddenly quit it all, and go. Wert thou savingFrench Monarchies; wert thou blacking shoes on the Pont Neuf! The mostimportant of men cannot stay; did the World's History depend on an hour, that hour is not to be given. Whereby, indeed, it comes that these samewould-have-beens are mostly a vanity; and the World's History couldnever in the least be what it would, or might, or should, by any mannerof potentiality, but simply and altogether what it is. The fierce wear and tear of such an existence has wasted out the giantoaken strength of Mirabeau. A fret and fever that keeps heart and brainon fire: excess of effort, of excitement; excess of all kinds: labourincessant, almost beyond credibility! 'If I had not lived with him, 'says Dumont, 'I should never have known what a man can make of one day;what things may be placed within the interval of twelve hours. A dayfor this man was more than a week or a month is for others: the mass ofthings he guided on together was prodigious; from the scheming to theexecuting not a moment lost. ' "Monsieur le Comte, " said his Secretary tohim once, "what you require is impossible. "--"Impossible!" answered hestarting from his chair, "Ne me dites jamais ce bete de mot, Never nameto me that blockhead of a word. " (Dumont, p. 311. ) And then the socialrepasts; the dinner which he gives as Commandant of National Guards, which 'costs five hundred pounds;' alas, and 'the Sirens of the Opera;'and all the ginger that is hot in the mouth:--down what a course is thisman hurled! Cannot Mirabeau stop; cannot he fly, and save himself alive?No! There is a Nessus' Shirt on this Hercules; he must storm and burnthere, without rest, till he be consumed. Human strength, neverso Herculean, has its measure. Herald shadows flit pale across thefire-brain of Mirabeau; heralds of the pale repose. While he tosses andstorms, straining every nerve, in that sea of ambition and confusion, there comes, sombre and still, a monition that for him the issue of itwill be swift death. In January last, you might see him as President of the Assembly; 'hisneck wrapt in linen cloths, at the evening session:' there was sick heatof the blood, alternate darkening and flashing in the eye-sight; he hadto apply leeches, after the morning labour, and preside bandaged. 'Atparting he embraced me, ' says Dumont, 'with an emotion I had never seenin him: "I am dying, my friend; dying as by slow fire; we shall perhapsnot meet again. When I am gone, they will know what the value of me was. The miseries I have held back will burst from all sides on France. "'(Dumont, p. 267. ) Sickness gives louder warning; but cannot be listenedto. On the 27th day of March, proceeding towards the Assembly, he had toseek rest and help in Friend de Lamarck's, by the road; and laythere, for an hour, half-fainted, stretched on a sofa. To the Assemblynevertheless he went, as if in spite of Destiny itself; spoke, loud andeager, five several times; then quitted the Tribune--for ever. He stepsout, utterly exhausted, into the Tuileries Gardens; many people pressround him, as usual, with applications, memorials; he says to the Friendwho was with him: Take me out of this! And so, on the last day of March 1791, endless anxious multitudes besetthe Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin; incessantly inquiring: within doorsthere, in that House numbered in our time '42, ' the over wearied gianthas fallen down, to die. (Fils Adoptif, viii. 420-79. ) Crowds, of allparties and kinds; of all ranks from the King to the meanest man! TheKing sends publicly twice a-day to inquire; privately besides: fromthe world at large there is no end of inquiring. 'A written bulletin ishanded out every three hours, ' is copied and circulated; in the end, it is printed. The People spontaneously keep silence; no carriage shallenter with its noise: there is crowding pressure; but the Sister ofMirabeau is reverently recognised, and has free way made for her. The People stand mute, heart-stricken; to all it seems as if a greatcalamity were nigh: as if the last man of France, who could have swayedthese coming troubles, lay there at hand-grips with the unearthly Power. The silence of a whole People, the wakeful toil of Cabanis, Friend andPhysician, skills not: on Saturday, the second day of April, Mirabeaufeels that the last of the Days has risen for him; that, on this day, he has to depart and be no more. His death is Titanic, as his life hasbeen. Lit up, for the last time, in the glare of coming dissolution, themind of the man is all glowing and burning; utters itself in sayings, such as men long remember. He longs to live, yet acquiesces in death, argues not with the inexorable. His speech is wild and wondrous:unearthly Phantasms dancing now their torch-dance round his soul; thesoul itself looking out, fire-radiant, motionless, girt together forthat great hour! At times comes a beam of light from him on the worldhe is quitting. "I carry in my heart the death-dirge of the FrenchMonarchy; the dead remains of it will now be the spoil of the factious. "Or again, when he heard the cannon fire, what is characteristic too:"Have we the Achilles' Funeral already?" So likewise, while some friendis supporting him: "Yes, support that head; would I could bequeath itthee!" For the man dies as he has lived; self-conscious, conscious of aworld looking on. He gazes forth on the young Spring, which for him willnever be Summer. The Sun has risen; he says: "Si ce n'est pas la Dieu, c'est du moins son cousin germain. " (Fils Adoptif, viii. 450; Journalde la maladie et de la mort de Mirabeau, par P. J. G. Cabanis (Paris, 1803). )--Death has mastered the outworks; power of speech is gone;the citadel of the heart still holding out: the moribund giant, passionately, by sign, demands paper and pen; writes his passionatedemand for opium, to end these agonies. The sorrowful Doctor shakes hishead: Dormir 'To sleep, ' writes the other, passionately pointing at it!So dies a gigantic Heathen and Titan; stumbling blindly, undismayed, down to his rest. At half-past eight in the morning, Dr. Petit, standingat the foot of the bed, says "Il ne souffre plus. " His suffering and hisworking are now ended. Even so, ye silent Patriot multitudes, all ye men of France; this manis rapt away from you. He has fallen suddenly, without bending till hebroke; as a tower falls, smitten by sudden lightning. His word ye shallhear no more, his guidance follow no more. --The multitudes depart, heartstruck; spread the sad tidings. How touching is the loyalty of mento their Sovereign Man! All theatres, public amusements close; no joyfulmeeting can be held in these nights, joy is not for them: the Peoplebreak in upon private dancing-parties, and sullenly command that theycease. Of such dancing-parties apparently but two came to light; andthese also have gone out. The gloom is universal: never in this City wassuch sorrow for one death; never since that old night when Louis XII. Departed, 'and the Crieurs des Corps went sounding their bells, andcrying along the streets: Le bon roi Louis, pere du peuple, est mort, The good King Louis, Father of the People, is dead!' (Henault, AbregeChronologique, p. 429. ) King Mirabeau is now the lost King; and one maysay with little exaggeration, all the People mourns for him. For three days there is low wide moan: weeping in the National Assemblyitself. The streets are all mournful; orators mounted on the bournes, with large silent audience, preaching the funeral sermon of the dead. Let no coachman whip fast, distractively with his rolling wheels, oralmost at all, through these groups! His traces may be cut; himself andhis fare, as incurable Aristocrats, hurled sulkily into the kennels. Thebourne-stone orators speak as it is given them; the Sansculottic People, with its rude soul, listens eager, --as men will to any Sermon, or Sermo, when it is a spoken Word meaning a Thing, and not a Babblement meaningNo-thing. In the Restaurateur's of the Palais Royal, the waiter remarks, "Fine weather, Monsieur:"--"Yes, my friend, " answers the ancient Man ofLetters, "very fine; but Mirabeau is dead. " Hoarse rhythmic threnodiescomes also from the throats of balladsingers; are sold on gray-whitepaper at a sou each. (Fils Adoptif, viii. L. 19; Newspapers and Excerpts(in Hist. Parl. Ix. 366-402). ) But of Portraits, engraved, painted, hewn, and written; of Eulogies, Reminiscences, Biographies, nayVaudevilles, Dramas and Melodramas, in all Provinces of France, therewill, through these coming months, be the due immeasurable crop; thickas the leaves of Spring. Nor, that a tincture of burlesque might be init, is Gobel's Episcopal Mandement wanting; goose Gobel, who has justbeen made Constitutional Bishop of Paris. A Mandement wherein ca iraalternates very strangely with Nomine Domini, and you are, with a gravecountenance, invited to 'rejoice at possessing in the midst of you abody of Prelates created by Mirabeau, zealous followers of his doctrine, faithful imitators of his virtues. ' (Hist. Parl. Ix. 405. ) So speaks, and cackles manifold, the Sorrow of France; wailing articulately, inarticulately, as it can, that a Sovereign Man is snatched away. Inthe National Assembly, when difficult questions are astir, all eyes will'turn mechanically to the place where Mirabeau sat, '--and Mirabeau isabsent now. On the third evening of the lamentation, the fourth of April, there issolemn Public Funeral; such as deceased mortal seldom had. Procession ofa league in length; of mourners reckoned loosely at a hundred thousand!All roofs are thronged with onlookers, all windows, lamp-irons, branchesof trees. 'Sadness is painted on every countenance; many persons weep. 'There is double hedge of National Guards; there is National Assembly ina body; Jacobin Society, and Societies; King's Ministers, Municipals, and all Notabilities, Patriot or Aristocrat. Bouille is noticeablethere, 'with his hat on;' say, hat drawn over his brow, hiding manythoughts! Slow-wending, in religious silence, the Procession of a leaguein length, under the level sun-rays, for it is five o'clock, moves andmarches: with its sable plumes; itself in a religious silence; but, byfits, with the muffled roll of drums, by fits with some long-drawnwail of music, and strange new clangour of trombones, and metallicdirge-voice; amid the infinite hum of men. In the Church ofSaint-Eustache, there is funeral oration by Cerutti; and discharge offire-arms, which 'brings down pieces of the plaster. ' Thence, forwardagain to the Church of Sainte-Genevieve; which has been consecrated, bysupreme decree, on the spur of this time, into a Pantheon for the GreatMen of the Fatherland, Aux Grands Hommes la Patrie reconnaissante. Hardly at midnight is the business done; and Mirabeau left in his darkdwelling: first tenant of that Fatherland's Pantheon. Tenant, alas, with inhabits but at will, and shall be cast out! For, inthese days of convulsion and disjection, not even the dust of the deadis permitted to rest. Voltaire's bones are, by and by, to be carriedfrom their stolen grave in the Abbey of Scellieres, to an eager stealinggrave, in Paris his birth-city: all mortals processioning and peroratingthere; cars drawn by eight white horses, goadsters in classical costume, with fillets and wheat-ears enough;--though the weather is of thewettest. (Moniteur, du 13 Juillet 1791. ) Evangelist Jean Jacques, too, as is most proper, must be dug up from Ermenonville, and processioned, with pomp, with sensibility, to the Pantheon of the Fatherland. (Ibid. Du 18 Septembre, 1794. See also du 30 Aout, &c. 1791. ) He and others:while again Mirabeau, we say, is cast forth from it, happily incapableof being replaced; and rests now, irrecognisable, reburied hastily atdead of night, in the central 'part of the Churchyard Sainte-Catherine, in the Suburb Saint-Marceau, ' to be disturbed no further. So blazes out, farseen, a Man's Life, and becomes ashes and a caputmortuum, in this World-Pyre, which we name French Revolution: not thefirst that consumed itself there; nor, by thousands and many millions, the last! A man who 'had swallowed all formulas;' who, in these strangetimes and circumstances, felt called to live Titanically, and also todie so. As he, for his part had swallowed all formulas, what Formula isthere, never so comprehensive, that will express truly the plus and theminus, give us the accurate net-result of him? There is hitherto nonesuch. Moralities not a few must shriek condemnatory over this Mirabeau;the Morality by which he could be judged has not yet got uttered in thespeech of men. We shall say this of him, again: That he is a Reality, and no Simulacrum: a living son of Nature our general Mother; not ahollow Artfice, and mechanism of Conventionalities, son of nothing, brother to nothing. In which little word, let the earnest man, walkingsorrowful in a world mostly of 'Stuffed Clothes-suits, ' that chatter andgrin meaningless on him, quite ghastly to the earnest soul, --think whatsignificance there is! Of men who, in such sense, are alive, and see with eyes, the number isnow not great: it may be well, if in this huge French Revolution itself, with its all-developing fury, we find some Three. Mortals driven rabidwe find; sputtering the acridest logic; baring their breast to thebattle-hail, their neck to the guillotine; of whom it is so painful tosay that they too are still, in good part, manufactured Formalities, notFacts but Hearsays! Honour to the strong man, in these ages, who has shaken himself looseof shams, and is something. For in the way of being worthy, the firstcondition surely is that one be. Let Cant cease, at all risks and at allcosts: till Cant cease, nothing else can begin. Of human Criminals, inthese centuries, writes the Moralist, I find but one unforgivable: theQuack. 'Hateful to God, ' as divine Dante sings, 'and to the Enemies ofGod, 'A Dio spiacente ed a' nemici sui!' But whoever will, with sympathy, which is the first essential towardsinsight, look at this questionable Mirabeau, may find that therelay verily in him, as the basis of all, a Sincerity, a great freeEarnestness; nay call it Honesty, for the man did before all things see, with that clear flashing vision, into what was, into what existed asfact; and did, with his wild heart, follow that and no other. Whereby onwhat ways soever he travels and struggles, often enough falling, heis still a brother man. Hate him not; thou canst not hate him! Shiningthrough such soil and tarnish, and now victorious effulgent, andoftenest struggling eclipsed, the light of genius itself is in thisman; which was never yet base and hateful: but at worst was lamentable, loveable with pity. They say that he was ambitious, that he wanted to beMinister. It is most true; and was he not simply the one man in Francewho could have done any good as Minister? Not vanity alone, not pridealone; far from that! Wild burstings of affection were in this greatheart; of fierce lightning, and soft dew of pity. So sunk, bemired inwretchedest defacements, it may be said of him, like the Magdalen ofold, that he loved much: his Father the harshest of old crabbed men heloved with warmth, with veneration. Be it that his falls and follies are manifold, --as himself oftenlamented even with tears. (Dumont, p. 287. ) Alas, is not the Life ofevery such man already a poetic Tragedy; made up 'of Fate and of one'sown Deservings, ' of Schicksal und eigene Schuld; full of the elements ofPity and Fear? This brother man, if not Epic for us, is Tragic; if notgreat, is large; large in his qualities, world-large in his destinies. Whom other men, recognising him as such, may, through long times, remember, and draw nigh to examine and consider: these, in their severaldialects, will say of him and sing of him, --till the right thing besaid; and so the Formula that can judge him be no longer an undiscoveredone. Here then the wild Gabriel Honore drops from the tissue of our History;not without a tragic farewell. He is gone: the flower of the wildRiquetti or Arrighetti kindred; which seems as if in him, with one lasteffort, it had done its best, and then expired, or sunk down to theundistinguished level. Crabbed old Marquis Mirabeau, the Friend of Men, sleeps sound. The Bailli Mirabeau, worthy uncle, will soon die forlorn, alone. Barrel-Mirabeau, already gone across the Rhine, his Regimentof Emigrants will drive nigh desperate. 'Barrel-Mirabeau, ' says abiographer of his, 'went indignantly across the Rhine, and drilledEmigrant Regiments. But as he sat one morning in his tent, sour ofstomach doubtless and of heart, meditating in Tartarean humour on theturn things took, a certain Captain or Subaltern demanded admittance onbusiness. Such Captain is refused; he again demands, with refusal; andthen again, till Colonel Viscount Barrel-Mirabeau, blazing up into amere burning brandy barrel, clutches his sword, and tumbles out on thiscanaille of an intruder, --alas, on the canaille of an intruder's sword'spoint, who had drawn with swift dexterity; and dies, and the Newspapersname it apoplexy and alarming accident. ' So die the Mirabeaus. New Mirabeaus one hears not of: the wild kindred, as we said, is goneout with this its greatest. As families and kindreds sometimesdo; producing, after long ages of unnoted notability, some livingquintescence of all the qualities they had, to flame forth as a manworld-noted; after whom they rest as if exhausted; the sceptre passingto others. The chosen Last of the Mirabeaus is gone; the chosen man ofFrance is gone. It was he who shook old France from its basis; and, asif with his single hand, has held it toppling there, still unfallen. What things depended on that one man! He is as a ship suddenly shiveredon sunk rocks: much swims on the waste waters, far from help. BOOK 2. IV. VARENNES Chapter 2. 4. I. Easter at Saint-Cloud. The French Monarchy may now therefore be considered as, in all humanprobability, lost; as struggling henceforth in blindness as well asweakness, the last light of reasonable guidance having gone out. Whatremains of resources their poor Majesties will waste still further, inuncertain loitering and wavering. Mirabeau himself had to complain thatthey only gave him half confidence, and always had some plan within hisplan. Had they fled frankly with him, to Rouen or anywhither, long ago!They may fly now with chance immeasurably lessened; which will go onlessening towards absolute zero. Decide, O Queen; poor Louis candecide nothing: execute this Flight-project, or at least abandonit. Correspondence with Bouille there has been enough; what profitsconsulting, and hypothesis, while all around is in fierce activity ofpractice? The Rustic sits waiting till the river run dry: alas with youit is not a common river, but a Nile Inundation; snow melting in theunseen mountains; till all, and you where you sit, be submerged. Many things invite to flight. The voice Journals invites; RoyalistJournals proudly hinting it as a threat, Patriot Journals rabidlydenouncing it as a terror. Mother Society, waxing more and moreemphatic, invites;--so emphatic that, as was prophesied, Lafayette andyour limited Patriots have ere long to branch off from her, and formthemselves into Feuillans; with infinite public controversy; the victoryin which, doubtful though it look, will remain with the unlimitedMother. Moreover, ever since the Day of Poniards, we have seenunlimited Patriotism openly equipping itself with arms. Citizens denied'activity, ' which is facetiously made to signify a certain weight ofpurse, cannot buy blue uniforms, and be Guardsmen; but man is greaterthan blue cloth; man can fight, if need be, in multiform cloth, or evenalmost without cloth--as Sansculotte. So Pikes continued to be hammered, whether those Dirks of improved structure with barbs be 'meant forthe West-India market, ' or not meant. Men beat, the wrong way, theirploughshares into swords. Is there not what we may call an 'AustrianCommittee, ' Comite Autrichein, sitting daily and nightly in theTuileries? Patriotism, by vision and suspicion, knows it too well! Ifthe King fly, will there not be Aristocrat-Austrian Invasion; butchery, replacement of Feudalism; wars more than civil? The hearts of men aresaddened and maddened. Dissident Priests likewise give trouble enough. Expelled from theirParish Churches, where Constitutional Priests, elected by the Public, have replaced them, these unhappy persons resort to Convents of Nuns, orother such receptacles; and there, on Sabbath, collecting assemblages ofAnti-Constitutional individuals, who have grown devout all on a sudden, (Toulongeon, i. 262. ) they worship or pretend to worship in theirstrait-laced contumacious manner; to the scandal of Patriotism. Dissident Priests, passing along with their sacred wafer for the dying, seem wishful to be massacred in the streets; wherein Patriotism will notgratify them. Slighter palm of martyrdom, however, shall not be denied:martyrdom not of massacre, yet of fustigation. At the refractory placesof worship, Patriot men appear; Patriot women with strong hazel wands, which they apply. Shut thy eyes, O Reader; see not this misery, peculiarto these later times, --of martyrdom without sincerity, with only cantand contumacy! A dead Catholic Church is not allowed to lie dead; no, it is galvanised into the detestablest death-life; whereat Humanity, wesay, shuts its eyes. For the Patriot women take their hazel wands, andfustigate, amid laughter of bystanders, with alacrity: broad bottom ofPriests; alas, Nuns too reversed, and cotillons retrousses! TheNational Guard does what it can: Municipality 'invokes the Principlesof Toleration;' grants Dissident worshippers the Church of the Theatins;promising protection. But it is to no purpose: at the door of thatTheatins Church, appears a Placard, and suspended atop, like PlebeianConsular fasces, --a Bundle of Rods! The Principles of Toleration mustdo the best they may: but no Dissident man shall worship contumaciously;there is a Plebiscitum to that effect; which, though unspoken, is likethe laws of the Medes and Persians. Dissident contumacious Priestsought not to be harboured, even in private, by any man: the Club of theCordeliers openly denounces Majesty himself as doing it. (Newspapers ofApril and June, 1791 (in Hist. Parl. Ix. 449; x, 217). ) Many things invite to flight: but probably this thing above all others, that it has become impossible! On the 15th of April, notice is giventhat his Majesty, who has suffered much from catarrh lately, will enjoythe Spring weather, for a few days, at Saint-Cloud. Out at Saint-Cloud?Wishing to celebrate his Easter, his Paques, or Pasch, there; withrefractory Anti-Constitutional Dissidents?--Wishing rather to make offfor Compiegne, and thence to the Frontiers? As were, in good sooth, perhaps feasible, or would once have been; nothing but some twochasseurs attending you; chasseurs easily corrupted! It is a pleasantpossibility, execute it or not. Men say there are thirty thousandChevaliers of the Poniard lurking in the woods there: lurking in thewoods, and thirty thousand, --for the human Imagination is not fettered. But now, how easily might these, dashing out on Lafayette, snatch offthe Hereditary Representative; and roll away with him, after the mannerof a whirlblast, whither they listed!--Enough, it were well the King didnot go. Lafayette is forewarned and forearmed: but, indeed, is the riskhis only; or his and all France's? Monday the eighteenth of April is come; the Easter Journey toSaint-Cloud shall take effect. National Guard has got its orders;a First Division, as Advanced Guard, has even marched, and probablyarrived. His Majesty's Maison-bouche, they say, is all busy stewing andfrying at Saint-Cloud; the King's Dinner not far from ready there. Aboutone o'clock, the Royal Carriage, with its eight royal blacks, shootsstately into the Place du Carrousel; draws up to receive its royalburden. But hark! From the neighbouring Church of Saint-Roch, thetocsin begins ding-donging. Is the King stolen then; he is going; gone?Multitudes of persons crowd the Carrousel: the Royal Carriage stillstands there;--and, by Heaven's strength, shall stand! Lafayette comes up, with aide-de-camps and oratory; pervading thegroups: "Taisez vous, " answer the groups, "the King shall not go. "Monsieur appears, at an upper window: ten thousand voices bray andshriek, "Nous ne voulons pas que le Roi parte. " Their Majesties havemounted. Crack go the whips; but twenty Patriot arms have seized eachof the eight bridles: there is rearing, rocking, vociferation; not thesmallest headway. In vain does Lafayette fret, indignant; and perorateand strive: Patriots in the passion of terror, bellow round the RoyalCarriage; it is one bellowing sea of Patriot terror run frantic. WillRoyalty fly off towards Austria; like a lit rocket, towards endlessConflagration of Civil War? Stop it, ye Patriots, in the name of Heaven!Rude voices passionately apostrophise Royalty itself. Usher Campan, andother the like official persons, pressing forward with help or advice, are clutched by the sashes, and hurled and whirled, in a confusedperilous manner; so that her Majesty has to plead passionately from thecarriage-window. Order cannot be heard, cannot be followed; National Guards know not howto act. Centre Grenadiers, of the Observatoire Battalion, are there;not on duty; alas, in quasi-mutiny; speaking rude disobedient words;threatening the mounted Guards with sharp shot if they hurt the people. Lafayette mounts and dismounts; runs haranguing, panting; on the vergeof despair. For an hour and three-quarters; 'seven quarters of an hour, 'by the Tuileries Clock! Desperate Lafayette will open a passage, wereit by the cannon's mouth, if his Majesty will order. Their Majesties, counselled to it by Royalist friends, by Patriot foes, dismount;and retire in, with heavy indignant heart; giving up the enterprise. Maison-bouche may eat that cooked dinner themselves; his Majesty shallnot see Saint-Cloud this day, --or any day. (Deux Amis, vi. C. 1; Hist. Parl. Ix. 407-14. ) The pathetic fable of imprisonment in one's own Palace has become a sadfact, then? Majesty complains to Assembly; Municipality deliberates, proposes to petition or address; Sections respond with sullen brevityof negation. Lafayette flings down his Commission; appears in civicpepper-and-salt frock; and cannot be flattered back again;--not in lessthan three days; and by unheard-of entreaty; National Guards kneelingto him, and declaring that it is not sycophancy, that they are freemen kneeling here to the Statue of Liberty. For the rest, thoseCentre Grenadiers of the Observatoire are disbanded, --yet indeed arereinlisted, all but fourteen, under a new name, and with new quarters. The King must keep his Easter in Paris: meditating much on this singularposture of things: but as good as determined now to fly from it, desirebeing whetted by difficulty. Chapter 2. 4. II. Easter at Paris. For above a year, ever since March 1790, it would seem, there hashovered a project of Flight before the royal mind; and ever and anon hasbeen condensing itself into something like a purpose; but this or theother difficulty always vaporised it again. It seems so full of risks, perhaps of civil war itself; above all, it cannot be done withouteffort. Somnolent laziness will not serve: to fly, if not in a leathervache, one must verily stir himself. Better to adopt that Constitutionof theirs; execute it so as to shew all men that it is inexecutable?Better or not so good; surely it is easier. To all difficulties you needonly say, There is a lion in the path, behold your Constitution willnot act! For a somnolent person it requires no effort to counterfeitdeath, --as Dame de Stael and Friends of Liberty can see the King'sGovernment long doing, faisant le mort. Nay now, when desire whetted by difficulty has brought the matter to ahead, and the royal mind no longer halts between two, what can comeof it? Grant that poor Louis were safe with Bouille, what on the wholecould he look for there? Exasperated Tickets of Entry answer, Much, all. But cold Reason answers, Little almost nothing. Is not loyalty a lawof Nature? ask the Tickets of Entry. Is not love of your King, and evendeath for him, the glory of all Frenchmen, --except these few Democrats?Let Democrat Constitution-builders see what they will do withouttheir Keystone; and France rend its hair, having lost the HereditaryRepresentative! Thus will King Louis fly; one sees not reasonably towards what. As amaltreated Boy, shall we say, who, having a Stepmother, rushes sulkyinto the wide world; and will wring the paternal heart?--Poor Louisescapes from known unsupportable evils, to an unknown mixture of goodand evil, coloured by Hope. He goes, as Rabelais did when dying, to seeka great May-be: je vais chercher un grand Peut-etre! As not onlythe sulky Boy but the wise grown Man is obliged to do, so often, inemergencies. For the rest, there is still no lack of stimulants, and stepdamemaltreatments, to keep one's resolution at the due pitch. Factiousdisturbance ceases not: as indeed how can they, unless authoritativelyconjured, in a Revolt which is by nature bottomless? If the ceasingof faction be the price of the King's somnolence, he may awake when hewill, and take wing. Remark, in any case, what somersets and contortions a dead Catholicismis making, --skilfully galvanised: hideous, and even piteous, tobehold! Jurant and Dissident, with their shaved crowns, argue frothingeverywhere; or are ceasing to argue, and stripping for battle. In Pariswas scourging while need continued: contrariwise, in the Morbihanof Brittany, without scourging, armed Peasants are up, roused bypulpit-drum, they know not why. General Dumouriez, who has got missionedthitherward, finds all in sour heat of darkness; finds also thatexplanation and conciliation will still do much. (Deux Amis, v. 410-21;Dumouriez, ii. C. 5. ) But again, consider this: that his Holiness, Pius Sixth, has seengood to excommunicate Bishop Talleyrand! Surely, we will say then, considering it, there is no living or dead Church in the Earth that hasnot the indubitablest right to excommunicate Talleyrand. Pope Pius hasright and might, in his way. But truly so likewise has Father Adam, ci-devant Marquis Saint-Huruge, in his way. Behold, therefore, on theFourth of May, in the Palais-Royal, a mixed loud-sounding multitude; inthe middle of whom, Father Adam, bull-voiced Saint-Huruge, in whitehat, towers visible and audible. With him, it is said, walks JournalistGorsas, walk many others of the washed sort; for no authority willinterfere. Pius Sixth, with his plush and tiara, and power of the Keys, they bear aloft: of natural size, --made of lath and combustible gum. Royou, the King's Friend, is borne too in effigy; with a pile ofNewspaper King's-Friends, condemned numbers of the Ami-du-Roi; fitfuel of the sacrifice. Speeches are spoken; a judgment is held, a doomproclaimed, audible in bull-voice, towards the four winds. And thus, amid great shouting, the holocaust is consummated, under the summer sky;and our lath-and-gum Holiness, with the attendant victims, mounts up inflame, and sinks down in ashes; a decomposed Pope: and right or might, among all the parties, has better or worse accomplished itself, as itcould. (Hist. Parl. X. 99-102. ) But, on the whole, reckoning from MartinLuther in the Marketplace of Wittenberg to Marquis Saint-Huruge in thisPalais-Royal of Paris, what a journey have we gone; into what strangeterritories has it carried us! No Authority can now interfere. NayReligion herself, mourning for such things, may after all ask, What haveI to do with them? In such extraordinary manner does dead Catholicism somerset andcaper, skilfully galvanised. For, does the reader inquire into thesubject-matter of controversy in this case; what the difference betweenOrthodoxy or My-doxy and Heterodoxy or Thy-doxy might here be?My-doxy is that an august National Assembly can equalize the extent ofBishopricks; that an equalized Bishop, his Creed and Formularies beingleft quite as they were, can swear Fidelity to King, Law and Nation, andso become a Constitutional Bishop. Thy-doxy, if thou be Dissident, is that he cannot; but that he must become an accursed thing. Humanill-nature needs but some Homoiousian iota, or even the pretence of one;and will flow copiously through the eye of a needle: thus always mustmortals go jargoning and fuming, And, like the ancient Stoics in their porches With fierce dispute maintain their churches. This Auto-da-fe of Saint-Huruge's was on the Fourth of May, 1791. Royalty sees it; but says nothing. Chapter 2. 4. III. Count Fersen. Royalty, in fact, should, by this time, be far on with its preparations. Unhappily much preparation is needful: could a Hereditary Representativebe carried in leather vache, how easy were it! But it is not so. New clothes are needed, as usual, in all Epic transactions, were itin the grimmest iron ages; consider 'Queen Chrimhilde, with her sixtysemstresses, ' in that iron Nibelungen Song! No Queen can stir withoutnew clothes. Therefore, now, Dame Campan whisks assiduous to thismantua-maker and to that: and there is clipping of frocks and gowns, upper clothes and under, great and small; such a clipping and sewing, asmight have been dispensed with. Moreover, her Majesty cannot go a stepanywhither without her Necessaire; dear Necessaire, of inlaid ivory androsewood; cunningly devised; which holds perfumes, toilet-implements, infinite small queenlike furnitures: Necessary to terrestrial life. Notwithout a cost of some five hundred louis, of much precious time, anddifficult hoodwinking which does not blind, can this same Necessaryof life be forwarded by the Flanders Carriers, --never to get to hand. (Campan, ii. C. 18. ) All which, you would say, augurs ill for theprospering of the enterprise. But the whims of women and queens must behumoured. Bouille, on his side, is making a fortified Camp at Montmedi; gatheringRoyal-Allemand, and all manner of other German and true French Troopsthither, 'to watch the Austrians. ' His Majesty will not cross theFrontiers, unless on compulsion. Neither shall the Emigrants be muchemployed, hateful as they are to all people. (Bouille, Memoires, ii. C. 10. ) Nor shall old war-god Broglie have any hand in the business; butsolely our brave Bouille; to whom, on the day of meeting, a Marshal'sBaton shall be delivered, by a rescued King, amid the shouting of allthe troops. In the meanwhile, Paris being so suspicious, were itnot perhaps good to write your Foreign Ambassadors an ostensibleConstitutional Letter; desiring all Kings and men to take heed that KingLouis loves the Constitution, that he has voluntarily sworn, and doesagain swear, to maintain the same, and will reckon those his enemies whoaffect to say otherwise? Such a Constitutional circular is despatched byCouriers, is communicated confidentially to the Assembly, and printed inall Newspapers; with the finest effect. (Moniteur, Seance du 23 Avril, 1791. ) Simulation and dissimulation mingle extensively in human affairs. We observe, however, that Count Fersen is often using his Ticket ofEntry; which surely he has clear right to do. A gallant Soldier andSwede, devoted to this fair Queen;--as indeed the Highest Swede now is. Has not King Gustav, famed fiery Chevalier du Nord, sworn himself, bythe old laws of chivalry, her Knight? He will descend on fire-wings, ofSwedish musketry, and deliver her from these foul dragons, --if, alas, the assassin's pistol intervene not! But, in fact, Count Fersen does seem a likely young soldier, of alertdecisive ways: he circulates widely, seen, unseen; and has business onhand. Also Colonel the Duke de Choiseul, nephew of Choiseul the great, of Choiseul the now deceased; he and Engineer Goguelat are passing andrepassing between Metz and the Tuileries; and Letters go in cipher, --oneof them, a most important one, hard to decipher; Fersen having cipheredit in haste. (Choiseul, Relation du Depart de Louis XVI. (Paris, 1822), p. 39. ) As for Duke de Villequier, he is gone ever since the Day ofPoniards; but his Apartment is useful for her Majesty. On the other side, poor Commandment Gouvion, watching at the Tuileries, second in National Command, sees several things hard to interpret. Itis the same Gouvion who sat, long months ago, at the Townhall, gazinghelpless into that Insurrection of Women; motionless, as the bravestabled steed when conflagration rises, till Usher Maillard snatched hisdrum. Sincerer Patriot there is not; but many a shiftier. He, if DameCampan gossip credibly, is paying some similitude of love-court to acertain false Chambermaid of the Palace, who betrays much to him:the Necessaire, the clothes, the packing of the jewels, (Campan, ii. 141. )--could he understand it when betrayed. Helpless Gouvion gazes withsincere glassy eyes into it; stirs up his sentries to vigilence; walksrestless to and fro; and hopes the best. But, on the whole, one finds that, in the second week of June, Colonelde Choiseul is privately in Paris; having come 'to see his children. 'Also that Fersen has got a stupendous new Coach built, of the kind namedBerline; done by the first artists; according to a model: they bring ithome to him, in Choiseul's presence; the two friends take a proof-drivein it, along the streets; in meditative mood; then send it up to 'MadameSullivan's, in the Rue de Clichy, ' far North, to wait there till wanted. Apparently a certain Russian Baroness de Korff, with Waiting-woman, Valet, and two Children, will travel homewards with some state: inwhom these young military gentlemen take interest? A Passport has beenprocured for her; and much assistance shewn, with Coach-buildersand such like;--so helpful polite are young military men. Fersen haslikewise purchased a Chaise fit for two, at least for two waiting-maids;further, certain necessary horses: one would say, he is himself quittingFrance, not without outlay? We observe finally that their Majesties, Heaven willing, will assist at Corpus-Christi Day, this blessed SummerSolstice, in Assumption Church, here at Paris, to the joy of all theworld. For which same day, moreover, brave Bouille, at Metz, as we find, has invited a party of friends to dinner; but indeed is gone from home, in the interim, over to Montmedi. These are of the Phenomena, or visual Appearances, of this wide-workingterrestrial world: which truly is all phenomenal, what they callspectral; and never rests at any moment; one never at any moment canknow why. On Monday night, the Twentieth of June 1791, about eleven o'clock, thereis many a hackney-coach, and glass-coach (carrosse de remise), stillrumbling, or at rest, on the streets of Paris. But of all Glass-coaches, we recommend this to thee, O Reader, which stands drawn up, in the Ruede l'Echelle, hard by the Carrousel and outgate of the Tuileries; in theRue de l'Echelle that then was; 'opposite Ronsin the saddler's door, ' asif waiting for a fare there! Not long does it wait: a hooded Dame, withtwo hooded Children has issued from Villequier's door, where no sentrywalks, into the Tuileries Court-of-Princes; into the Carrousel; intothe Rue de l'Echelle; where the Glass-coachman readily admits them;and again waits. Not long; another Dame, likewise hooded or shrouded, leaning on a servant, issues in the same manner, by the Glass-coachman, cheerfully admitted. Whither go, so many Dames? 'Tis His Majesty'sCouchee, Majesty just gone to bed, and all the Palace-world is retiringhome. But the Glass-coachman still waits; his fare seemingly incomplete. By and by, we note a thickset Individual, in round hat and peruke, arm-and-arm with some servant, seemingly of the Runner or Courier sort;he also issues through Villequier's door; starts a shoebuckle as hepasses one of the sentries, stoops down to clasp it again; is however, by the Glass-coachman, still more cheerfully admitted. And now, is hisfare complete? Not yet; the Glass-coachman still waits. --Alas! and thefalse Chambermaid has warned Gouvion that she thinks the Royal Familywill fly this very night; and Gouvion distrusting his own glazed eyes, has sent express for Lafayette; and Lafayette's Carriage, flaringwith lights, rolls this moment through the inner Arch of theCarrousel, --where a Lady shaded in broad gypsy-hat, and leaning on thearm of a servant, also of the Runner or Courier sort, stands asideto let it pass, and has even the whim to touch a spoke of it with herbadine, --light little magic rod which she calls badine, such as theBeautiful then wore. The flare of Lafayette's Carriage, rolls past:all is found quiet in the Court-of-Princes; sentries at their post;Majesties' Apartments closed in smooth rest. Your false Chambermaid musthave been mistaken? Watch thou, Gouvion, with Argus' vigilance; for, ofa truth, treachery is within these walls. But where is the Lady that stood aside in gypsy hat, and touched thewheel-spoke with her badine? O Reader, that Lady that touched thewheel-spoke was the Queen of France! She has issued safe throughthat inner Arch, into the Carrousel itself; but not into the Rue del'Echelle. Flurried by the rattle and rencounter, she took the righthand not the left; neither she nor her Courier knows Paris; he indeedis no Courier, but a loyal stupid ci-devant Bodyguard disguised asone. They are off, quite wrong, over the Pont Royal and River; roamingdisconsolate in the Rue du Bac; far from the Glass-coachman, who stillwaits. Waits, with flutter of heart; with thoughts--which he must buttonclose up, under his jarvie surtout! Midnight clangs from all the City-steeples; one precious hour has beenspent so; most mortals are asleep. The Glass-coachman waits; and whatmood! A brother jarvie drives up, enters into conversation; is answeredcheerfully in jarvie dialect: the brothers of the whip exchange a pinchof snuff; (Weber, ii. 340-2; Choiseul, p. 44-56. ) decline drinkingtogether; and part with good night. Be the Heavens blest! here at lengthis the Queen-lady, in gypsy-hat; safe after perils; who has had toinquire her way. She too is admitted; her Courier jumps aloft, asthe other, who is also a disguised Bodyguard, has done: and now, OGlass-coachman of a thousand, --Count Fersen, for the Reader sees it isthou, --drive! Dust shall not stick to the hoofs of Fersen: crack! crack! theGlass-coach rattles, and every soul breathes lighter. But is Fersen onthe right road? Northeastward, to the Barrier of Saint-Martin and MetzHighway, thither were we bound: and lo, he drives right Northward! Theroyal Individual, in round hat and peruke, sits astonished; but rightor wrong, there is no remedy. Crack, crack, we go incessant, through theslumbering City. Seldom, since Paris rose out of mud, or the LonghairedKings went in Bullock-carts, was there such a drive. Mortals on eachhand of you, close by, stretched out horizontal, dormant; and we aliveand quaking! Crack, crack, through the Rue de Grammont; across theBoulevard; up the Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin, --these windows, allsilent, of Number 42, were Mirabeau's. Towards the Barrier not ofSaint-Martin, but of Clichy on the utmost North! Patience, ye royalIndividuals; Fersen understands what he is about. Passing up the Ruede Clichy, he alights for one moment at Madame Sullivan's: "Did CountFersen's Coachman get the Baroness de Korff's new Berline?"--"Gone withit an hour-and-half ago, " grumbles responsive the drowsy Porter. --"C'estbien. " Yes, it is well;--though had not such hour-and half been lost, it were still better. Forth therefore, O Fersen, fast, by the Barrierde Clichy; then Eastward along the Outward Boulevard, what horses andwhipcord can do! Thus Fersen drives, through the ambrosial night. Sleeping Paris is nowall on the right hand of him; silent except for some snoring hum;and now he is Eastward as far as the Barrier de Saint-Martin; lookingearnestly for Baroness de Korff's Berline. This Heaven's Berline heat length does descry, drawn up with its six horses, his own GermanCoachman waiting on the box. Right, thou good German: now haste, whitherthou knowest!--And as for us of the Glass-coach, haste too, O haste;much time is already lost! The august Glass-coach fare, six Insides, hastily packs itself into the new Berline; two Bodyguard Couriersbehind. The Glass-coach itself is turned adrift, its head towards theCity; to wander whither it lists, --and be found next morning tumbled ina ditch. But Fersen is on the new box, with its brave new hammer-cloths;flourishing his whip; he bolts forward towards Bondy. There a third andfinal Bodyguard Courier of ours ought surely to be, with post-horsesready-ordered. There likewise ought that purchased Chaise, with the twoWaiting-maids and their bandboxes to be; whom also her Majesty couldnot travel without. Swift, thou deft Fersen, and may the Heavens turn itwell! Once more, by Heaven's blessing, it is all well. Here is the sleepingHamlet of Bondy; Chaise with Waiting-women; horses all ready, andpostillions with their churn-boots, impatient in the dewy dawn. Briefharnessing done, the postillions with their churn-boots vault into thesaddles; brandish circularly their little noisy whips. Fersen, under hisjarvie-surtout, bends in lowly silent reverence of adieu; royal handswave speechless in expressible response; Baroness de Korff's Berline, with the Royalty of France, bounds off: for ever, as it proved. DeftFersen dashes obliquely Northward, through the country, towards Bougret;gains Bougret, finds his German Coachman and chariot waiting there;cracks off, and drives undiscovered into unknown space. A deft activeman, we say; what he undertook to do is nimbly and successfully done. A so the Royalty of France is actually fled? This precious night, theshortest of the year, it flies and drives! Baroness de Korff is, atbottom, Dame de Tourzel, Governess of the Royal Children: she who camehooded with the two hooded little ones; little Dauphin; little MadameRoyale, known long afterwards as Duchess d'Angouleme. Baroness deKorff's Waiting-maid is the Queen in gypsy-hat. The royal Individual inround hat and peruke, he is Valet, for the time being. That other hoodedDame, styled Travelling-companion, is kind Sister Elizabeth; she hadsworn, long since, when the Insurrection of Women was, that only deathshould part her and them. And so they rush there, not too impetuously, through the Wood of Bondy:--over a Rubicon in their own and France'sHistory. Great; though the future is all vague! If we reach Bouille? If we donot reach him? O Louis! and this all round thee is the great slumberingEarth (and overhead, the great watchful Heaven); the slumbering Woodof Bondy, --where Longhaired Childeric Donothing was struck through withiron; (Henault, Abrege Chronologique, p. 36. ) not unreasonably. Thesepeaked stone-towers are Raincy; towers of wicked d'Orleans. All slumberssave the multiplex rustle of our new Berline. Loose-skirted scarecrowof an Herb-merchant, with his ass and early greens, toilsomely plodding, seems the only creature we meet. But right ahead the great North-Eastsends up evermore his gray brindled dawn: from dewy branch, birds hereand there, with short deep warble, salute the coming Sun. Stars fadeout, and Galaxies; Street-lamps of the City of God. The Universe, O mybrothers, is flinging wide its portals for the Levee of the GREAT HIGHKING. Thou, poor King Louis, farest nevertheless, as mortals do, towardsOrient lands of Hope; and the Tuileries with its Levees, and France andthe Earth itself, is but a larger kind of doghutch, --occasionally goingrabid. Chapter 2. 4. IV. Attitude. But in Paris, at six in the morning; when some Patriot Deputy, warned bya billet, awoke Lafayette, and they went to the Tuileries?--Imaginationmay paint, but words cannot, the surprise of Lafayette; or with whatbewilderment helpless Gouvion rolled glassy Argus's eyes, discerning nowthat his false Chambermaid told true! However, it is to be recorded that Paris, thanks to an august NationalAssembly, did, on this seeming doomsday, surpass itself. Never, according to Historian eye-witnesses, was there seen such an 'imposingattitude. ' (Deux Amis, vi. 67-178; Toulongeon, ii. 1-38; Camille, Prudhomme and Editors in Hist. Parl. X. 240-4. ) Sections all 'inpermanence;' our Townhall, too, having first, about ten o'clock, firedthree solemn alarm-cannons: above all, our National Assembly! NationalAssembly, likewise permanent, decides what is needful; with unanimousconsent, for the Cote Droit sits dumb, afraid of the Lanterne. Decideswith a calm promptitude, which rises towards the sublime. One must needsvote, for the thing is self-evident, that his Majesty has been abducted, or spirited away, 'enleve, ' by some person or persons unknown: in whichcase, what will the Constitution have us do? Let us return to firstprinciples, as we always say; "revenons aux principes. " By first or by second principles, much is promptly decided: Ministersare sent for, instructed how to continue their functions; Lafayette isexamined; and Gouvion, who gives a most helpless account, the best hecan. Letters are found written: one Letter, of immense magnitude; allin his Majesty's hand, and evidently of his Majesty's own composition;addressed to the National Assembly. It details, with earnestness, with achildlike simplicity, what woes his Majesty has suffered. Woes great andsmall: A Necker seen applauded, a Majesty not; then insurrection; wantof due cash in Civil List; general want of cash, furniture and order;anarchy everywhere; Deficit never yet, in the smallest, 'choked orcomble:'--wherefore in brief His Majesty has retired towards a Place ofLiberty; and, leaving Sanctions, Federation, and what Oaths there maybe, to shift for themselves, does now refer--to what, thinks an augustAssembly? To that 'Declaration of the Twenty-third of June, ' with its"Seul il fera, He alone will make his People happy. " As if that were notburied, deep enough, under two irrevocable Twelvemonths, and the wreckand rubbish of a whole Feudal World! This strange autograph Letterthe National Assembly decides on printing; on transmitting to theEighty-three Departments, with exegetic commentary, short but pithy. Commissioners also shall go forth on all sides; the People be exhorted;the Armies be increased; care taken that the Commonweal suffer nodamage. --And now, with a sublime air of calmness, nay of indifference, we 'pass to the order of the day!' By such sublime calmness, the terror of the People is calmed. Thesegleaming Pike forests, which bristled fateful in the early sun, disappear again; the far-sounding Street-orators cease, or spout milder. We are to have a civil war; let us have it then. The King is gone; butNational Assembly, but France and we remain. The People also takes agreat attitude; the People also is calm; motionless as a couchant lion. With but a few broolings, some waggings of the tail; to shew what itwill do! Cazales, for instance, was beset by street-groups, and cries ofLanterne; but National Patrols easily delivered him. Likewise all King'seffigies and statues, at least stucco ones, get abolished. Even King'snames; the word Roi fades suddenly out of all shop-signs; the RoyalBengal Tiger itself, on the Boulevards, becomes the National Bengal one, Tigre National. (Walpoliana. ) How great is a calm couchant People! On the morrow, men will say to oneanother: "We have no King, yet we slept sound enough. " On the morrow, fervent Achille de Chatelet, and Thomas Paine the rebellious Needleman, shall have the walls of Paris profusely plastered with their Placard;announcing that there must be a Republic! (Dumont, c. 16. )--Need we addthat Lafayette too, though at first menaced by Pikes, has taken a greatattitude, or indeed the greatest of all? Scouts and Aides-de-camp flyforth, vague, in quest and pursuit; young Romoeuf towards Valenciennes, though with small hope. Thus Paris; sublimely calmed, in its bereavement. But from theMessageries Royales, in all Mail-bags, radiates forth far-darting theelectric news: Our Hereditary Representative is flown. Laugh, blackRoyalists: yet be it in your sleeve only; lest Patriotism notice, andwaxing frantic, lower the Lanterne! In Paris alone is a sublime NationalAssembly with its calmness; truly, other places must take it as theycan: with open mouth and eyes; with panic cackling, with wrath, withconjecture. How each one of those dull leathern Diligences, with itsleathern bag and 'The King is fled, ' furrows up smooth France as itgoes; through town and hamlet, ruffles the smooth public mind intoquivering agitation of death-terror; then lumbers on, as if nothinghad happened! Along all highways; towards the utmost borders; till allFrance is ruffled, --roughened up (metaphorically speaking) into oneenormous, desperate-minded, red-guggling Turkey Cock! For example, it is under cloud of night that the leathern Monsterreaches Nantes; deep sunk in sleep. The word spoken rouses all Patriotmen: General Dumouriez, enveloped in roquelaures, has to descend fromhis bedroom; finds the street covered with 'four or five thousandcitizens in their shirts. ' (Dumouriez, Memoires, ii. 109. ) Hereand there a faint farthing rushlight, hastily kindled; and so manyswart-featured haggard faces, with nightcaps pushed back; and the moreor less flowing drapery of night-shirt: open-mouthed till the Generalsay his word! And overhead, as always, the Great Bear is turning soquiet round Bootes; steady, indifferent as the leathern Diligenceitself. Take comfort, ye men of Nantes: Bootes and the steady Bear areturning; ancient Atlantic still sends his brine, loud-billowing, up yourLoire-stream; brandy shall be hot in the stomach: this is not the Lastof the Days, but one before the Last. --The fools! If they knew whatwas doing, in these very instants, also by candle-light, in the farNorth-East! Perhaps we may say the most terrified man in Paris or France is--whothinks the Reader?--seagreen Robespierre. Double paleness, with theshadow of gibbets and halters, overcasts the seagreen features: it istoo clear to him that there is to be 'a Saint-Bartholomew of Patriots, 'that in four-and-twenty hours he will not be in life. These horridanticipations of the soul he is heard uttering at Petion's; by a notablewitness. By Madame Roland, namely; her whom we saw, last year, radiantat the Lyons Federation! These four months, the Rolands have been inParis; arranging with Assembly Committees the Municipal affairs ofLyons, affairs all sunk in debt;--communing, the while, as was mostnatural, with the best Patriots to be found here, with our Brissots, Petions, Buzots, Robespierres; who were wont to come to us, says thefair Hostess, four evenings in the week. They, running about, busierthan ever this day, would fain have comforted the seagreen man: spake ofAchille du Chatelet's Placard; of a Journal to be called The Republican;of preparing men's minds for a Republic. "A Republic?" said theSeagreen, with one of his dry husky unsportful laughs, "What is that?"(Madame Roland, ii. 70. ) O seagreen Incorruptible, thou shalt see! Chapter 2. 4. V. The New Berline. But scouts all this while and aide-de-camps, have flown forth fasterthan the leathern Diligences. Young Romoeuf, as we said, was off earlytowards Valenciennes: distracted Villagers seize him, as a traitor witha finger of his own in the plot; drag him back to the Townhall; to theNational Assembly, which speedily grants a new passport. Nay now, thatsame scarecrow of an Herb-merchant with his ass has bethought him of thegrand new Berline seen in the Wood of Bondy; and delivered evidence ofit: (Moniteur, &c. In Hist. Parl. X. 244-313. ) Romoeuf, furnished withnew passport, is sent forth with double speed on a hopefuller track; byBondy, Claye, and Chalons, towards Metz, to track the new Berline; andgallops a franc etrier. Miserable new Berline! Why could not Royalty go in some old Berlinesimilar to that of other men? Flying for life, one does not stickleabout his vehicle. Monsieur, in a commonplace travelling-carriage is offNorthwards; Madame, his Princess, in another, with variation ofroute: they cross one another while changing horses, without look ofrecognition; and reach Flanders, no man questioning them. Precisely inthe same manner, beautiful Princess de Lamballe set off, about the samehour; and will reach England safe:--would she had continued there! Thebeautiful, the good, but the unfortunate; reserved for a frightful end! All runs along, unmolested, speedy, except only the new Berline. Hugeleathern vehicle;--huge Argosy, let us say, or Acapulco-ship; with itsheavy stern-boat of Chaise-and-pair; with its three yellow Pilot-boatsof mounted Bodyguard Couriers, rocking aimless round it and ahead of it, to bewilder, not to guide! It lumbers along, lurchingly with stress, ata snail's pace; noted of all the world. The Bodyguard Couriers, intheir yellow liveries, go prancing and clattering; loyal but stupid;unacquainted with all things. Stoppages occur; and breakages to berepaired at Etoges. King Louis too will dismount, will walk up hills, and enjoy the blessed sunshine:--with eleven horses and double drinkmoney, and all furtherances of Nature and Art, it will be found thatRoyalty, flying for life, accomplishes Sixty-nine miles in Twenty-twoincessant hours. Slow Royalty! And yet not a minute of these hours butis precious: on minutes hang the destinies of Royalty now. Readers, therefore, can judge in what humour Duke de Choiseul mightstand waiting, in the Village of Pont-de-Sommevelle, some leagues beyondChalons, hour after hour, now when the day bends visibly westward. Choiseul drove out of Paris, in all privity, ten hours before theirMajesties' fixed time; his Hussars, led by Engineer Goguelat, are hereduly, come 'to escort a Treasure that is expected:' but, hour afterhour, is no Baroness de Korff's Berline. Indeed, over all thatNorth-east Region, on the skirts of Champagne and of Lorraine, where theGreat Road runs, the agitation is considerable. For all along, from thisPont-de-Sommevelle Northeastward as far as Montmedi, at Post-villagesand Towns, escorts of Hussars and Dragoons do lounge waiting: a train orchain of Military Escorts; at the Montmedi end of it our brave Bouille:an electric thunder-chain; which the invisible Bouille, like a FatherJove, holds in his hand--for wise purposes! Brave Bouille has donewhat man could; has spread out his electric thunder-chain of MilitaryEscorts, onwards to the threshold of Chalons: it waits but for the newKorff Berline; to receive it, escort it, and, if need be, bear it offin whirlwind of military fire. They lie and lounge there, we say, these fierce Troopers; from Montmedi and Stenai, through Clermont, Sainte-Menehould to utmost Pont-de-Sommevelle, in all Post-villages;for the route shall avoid Verdun and great Towns: they loiter impatient'till the Treasure arrive. ' Judge what a day this is for brave Bouille: perhaps the first day ofa new glorious life; surely the last day of the old! Also, andindeed still more, what a day, beautiful and terrible, for your youngfull-blooded Captains: your Dandoins, Comte de Damas, Duke de Choiseul, Engineer Goguelat, and the like; entrusted with the secret!--Alas, theday bends ever more westward; and no Korff Berline comes to sight. Itis four hours beyond the time, and still no Berline. In allVillage-streets, Royalist Captains go lounging, looking oftenParis-ward; with face of unconcern, with heart full of black care:rigorous Quartermasters can hardly keep the private dragoons from cafesand dramshops. (Declaration du Sieur La Gache du Regiment Royal-Dragoonsin Choiseul, pp. 125-39. ) Dawn on our bewilderment, thou new Berline;dawn on us, thou Sun-chariot of a new Berline, with the destinies ofFrance! It was of His Majesty's ordering, this military array of Escorts: athing solacing the Royal imagination with a look of security and rescue;yet, in reality, creating only alarm, and where there was otherwise nodanger, danger without end. For each Patriot, in these Post-villages, asks naturally: This clatter of cavalry, and marching and lounging oftroops, what means it? To escort a Treasure? Why escort, when no Patriotwill steal from the Nation; or where is your Treasure?--There has beensuch marching and counter-marching: for it is another fatality, thatcertain of these Military Escorts came out so early as yesterday; theNineteenth not the Twentieth of the month being the day first appointed, which her Majesty, for some necessity or other, saw good to alter. Andnow consider the suspicious nature of Patriotism; suspicious, aboveall, of Bouille the Aristocrat; and how the sour doubting humour has hadleave to accumulate and exacerbate for four-and-twenty hours! At Pont-de-Sommevelle, these Forty foreign Hussars of Goguelat and DukeChoiseul are becoming an unspeakable mystery to all men. They loungedlong enough, already, at Sainte-Menehould; lounged and loitered till ourNational Volunteers there, all risen into hot wrath of doubt, 'demandedthree hundred fusils of their Townhall, ' and got them. At which samemoment too, as it chanced, our Captain Dandoins was just coming in, fromClermont with his troop, at the other end of the Village. A fresh troop;alarming enough; though happily they are only Dragoons and French! Sothat Goguelat with his Hussars had to ride, and even to do it fast;till here at Pont-de-Sommevelle, where Choiseul lay waiting, he foundresting-place. Resting-place, as on burning marle. For the rumour of himflies abroad; and men run to and fro in fright and anger: Chalons sendsforth exploratory pickets, coming from Sainte-Menehould, on that. Whatis it, ye whiskered Hussars, men of foreign guttural speech; in the nameof Heaven, what is it that brings you? A Treasure?--exploratory picketsshake their heads. The hungry Peasants, however, know too well whatTreasure it is: Military seizure for rents, feudalities; which noBailiff could make us pay! This they know;--and set to jingling theirParish-bell by way of tocsin; with rapid effect! Choiseul and Goguelat, if the whole country is not to take fire, must needs, be there Berline, be there no Berline, saddle and ride. They mount; and this Parish tocsin happily ceases. They ride slowlyEastward, towards Sainte-Menehould; still hoping the Sun-Chariot ofa Berline may overtake them. Ah me, no Berline! And near now is thatSainte-Menehould, which expelled us in the morning, with its 'threehundred National fusils;' which looks, belike, not too lovingly onCaptain Dandoins and his fresh Dragoons, though only French;--which, in a word, one dare not enter the second time, under pain of explosion!With rather heavy heart, our Hussar Party strikes off to the left;through byways, through pathless hills and woods, they, avoidingSainte-Menehould and all places which have seen them heretofore, willmake direct for the distant Village of Varennes. It is probable theywill have a rough evening-ride. This first military post, therefore, in the long thunder-chain, has goneoff with no effect; or with worse, and your chain threatens to entangleitself!--The Great Road, however, is got hushed again into a kind ofquietude, though one of the wakefullest. Indolent Dragoons cannot, byany Quartermaster, be kept altogether from the dramshop; where Patriotsdrink, and will even treat, eager enough for news. Captains, in a statenear distraction, beat the dusky highway, with a face of indifference;and no Sun-Chariot appears. Why lingers it? Incredible, that with elevenhorses and such yellow Couriers and furtherances, its rate should beunder the weightiest dray-rate, some three miles an hour! Alas, oneknows not whether it ever even got out of Paris;--and yet also one knowsnot whether, this very moment, it is not at the Village-end! One's heartflutters on the verge of unutterabilities. Chapter 2. 4. VI. Old-Dragoon Drouet. In this manner, however, has the Day bent downwards. Wearied mortalsare creeping home from their field-labour; the village-artisan eats withrelish his supper of herbs, or has strolled forth to the village-streetfor a sweet mouthful of air and human news. Still summer-eventideeverywhere! The great Sun hangs flaming on the utmost North-West; for itis his longest day this year. The hill-tops rejoicing will ere long beat their ruddiest, and blush Good-night. The thrush, in green dells, on long-shadowed leafy spray, pours gushing his glad serenade, to thebabble of brooks grown audibler; silence is stealing over the Earth. Your dusty Mill of Valmy, as all other mills and drudgeries, may furlits canvass, and cease swashing and circling. The swenkt grinders inthis Treadmill of an Earth have ground out another Day; and loungethere, as we say, in village-groups; movable, or ranked on socialstone-seats; (Rapport de M. Remy in Choiseul, p. 143. ) their children, mischievous imps, sporting about their feet. Unnotable hum of sweethuman gossip rises from this Village of Sainte-Menehould, as from allother villages. Gossip mostly sweet, unnotable; for the very Dragoonsare French and gallant; nor as yet has the Paris-and-Verdun Diligence, with its leathern bag, rumbled in, to terrify the minds of men. One figure nevertheless we do note at the last door of the Village: thatfigure in loose-flowing nightgown, of Jean Baptiste Drouet, Master ofthe Post here. An acrid choleric man, rather dangerous-looking; still inthe prime of life, though he has served, in his time as a Conde Dragoon. This day from an early hour, Drouet got his choler stirred, and hasbeen kept fretting. Hussar Goguelat in the morning saw good, by wayof thrift, to bargain with his own Innkeeper, not with Drouet regularMaitre de Poste, about some gig-horse for the sending back of hisgig; which thing Drouet perceiving came over in red ire, menacing theInn-keeper, and would not be appeased. Wholly an unsatisfactory day. For Drouet is an acrid Patriot too, was at the Paris Feast of Pikes:and what do these Bouille Soldiers mean? Hussars, with their gig, anda vengeance to it!--have hardly been thrust out, when Dandoins andhis fresh Dragoons arrive from Clermont, and stroll. For what purpose?Choleric Drouet steps out and steps in, with long-flowing nightgown;looking abroad, with that sharpness of faculty which stirred cholergives to man. On the other hand, mark Captain Dandoins on the street of that sameVillage; sauntering with a face of indifference, a heart eaten of blackcare! For no Korff Berline makes its appearance. The great Sun flamesbroader towards setting: one's heart flutters on the verge of dreadunutterabilities. By Heaven! Here is the yellow Bodyguard Courier; spurring fast, inthe ruddy evening light! Steady, O Dandoins, stand with inscrutableindifferent face; though the yellow blockhead spurs past the Post-house;inquires to find it; and stirs the Village, all delighted with his finelivery. --Lumbering along with its mountains of bandboxes, and Chaisebehind, the Korff Berline rolls in; huge Acapulco-ship with itsCockboat, having got thus far. The eyes of the Villagers lookenlightened, as such eyes do when a coach-transit, which is an event, occurs for them. Strolling Dragoons respectfully, so fine are the yellowliveries, bring hand to helmet; and a lady in gipsy-hat responds with agrace peculiar to her. (Declaration de la Gache in Choiseul ubi supra. )Dandoins stands with folded arms, and what look of indifference anddisdainful garrison-air a man can, while the heart is like leaping outof him. Curled disdainful moustachio; careless glance, --which howeversurveys the Village-groups, and does not like them. With his eye hebespeaks the yellow Courier. Be quick, be quick! Thick-headed Yellowcannot understand the eye; comes up mumbling, to ask in words: seen ofthe Village! Nor is Post-master Drouet unobservant, all this while; but steps out andsteps in, with his long-flowing nightgown, in the level sunlight; pryinginto several things. When a man's faculties, at the right time, are sharpened by choler, it may lead to much. That Lady in slouchedgypsy-hat, though sitting back in the Carriage, does she not resemblesome one we have seen, some time;--at the Feast of Pikes, or elsewhere?And this Grosse-Tete in round hat and peruke, which, looking rearward, pokes itself out from time to time, methinks there are features init--? Quick, Sieur Guillaume, Clerk of the Directoire, bring me anew Assignat! Drouet scans the new Assignat; compares the Paper-moneyPicture with the Gross-Head in round hat there: by Day and Night! youmight say the one was an attempted Engraving of the other. And thismarch of Troops; this sauntering and whispering, --I see it! Drouet Post-master of this Village, hot Patriot, Old Dragoon of Conde, consider, therefore, what thou wilt do. And fast: for behold the newBerline, expeditiously yoked, cracks whipcord, and rolls away!--Drouetdare not, on the spur of the instant, clutch the bridles in his own twohands; Dandoins, with broadsword, might hew you off. Our poor Nationals, not one of them here, have three hundred fusils but then no powder;besides one is not sure, only morally-certain. Drouet, as an adroitOld-Dragoon of Conde does what is advisablest: privily bespeaks ClerkGuillaume, Old-Dragoon of Conde he too; privily, while Clerk Guillaumeis saddling two of the fleetest horses, slips over to the Townhall towhisper a word; then mounts with Clerk Guillaume; and the two boundeastward in pursuit, to see what can be done. They bound eastward, in sharp trot; their moral-certainty permeatingthe Village, from the Townhall outwards, in busy whispers. Alas! CaptainDandoins orders his Dragoons to mount; but they, complaining of longfast, demand bread-and-cheese first;--before which brief repast canbe eaten, the whole Village is permeated; not whispering now, butblustering and shrieking! National Volunteers, in hurried muster, shriekfor gunpowder; Dragoons halt between Patriotism and Rule of the Service, between bread and cheese and fixed bayonets: Dandoins hands secretly hisPocket-book, with its secret despatches, to the rigorous Quartermaster:the very Ostlers have stable-forks and flails. The rigorousQuartermaster, half-saddled, cuts out his way with the sword's edge, amid levelled bayonets, amid Patriot vociferations, adjurations, flail-strokes; and rides frantic; (Declaration de La Gache inChoiseul, p. 134. )--few or even none following him; the rest, sosweetly constrained consenting to stay there. And thus the new Berline rolls; and Drouet and Guillaume gallopafter it, and Dandoins's Troopers or Trooper gallops after them;and Sainte-Menehould, with some leagues of the King's Highway, isin explosion;--and your Military thunder-chain has gone off in aself-destructive manner; one may fear with the frightfullest issues! Chapter 2. 4. VII. The Night of Spurs. This comes of mysterious Escorts, and a new Berline with eleven horses:'he that has a secret should not only hide it, but hide that he has itto hide. ' Your first Military Escort has exploded self-destructive;and all Military Escorts, and a suspicious Country will now be up, explosive; comparable not to victorious thunder. Comparable, say rather, to the first stirring of an Alpine Avalanche; which, once stir it, ashere at Sainte-Menehould, will spread, --all round, and on and on, as faras Stenai; thundering with wild ruin, till Patriot Villagers, Peasantry, Military Escorts, new Berline and Royalty are down, --jumbling in theAbyss! The thick shades of Night are falling. Postillions crack the whip: theRoyal Berline is through Clermont, where Colonel Comte de Damas got aword whispered to it; is safe through, towards Varennes; rushing at therate of double drink-money: an Unknown 'Inconnu on horseback'shrieks earnestly some hoarse whisper, not audible, into the rushingCarriage-window, and vanishes, left in the night. (Campan, ii. 159. )August Travellers palpitate; nevertheless overwearied Nature sinks everyone of them into a kind of sleep. Alas, and Drouet and Clerk Guillaumespur; taking side-roads, for shortness, for safety; scattering abroadthat moral-certainty of theirs; which flies, a bird of the air carryingit! And your rigorous Quartermaster spurs; awakening hoarse trumpet-tone, as here at Clermont, calling out Dragoons gone to bed. Brave Colonel deDamas has them mounted, in part, these Clermont men; young CornetRemy dashes off with a few. But the Patriot Magistracy is out here atClermont too; National Guards shrieking for ball-cartridges; and theVillage 'illuminates itself;'--deft Patriots springing out of bed;alertly, in shirt or shift, striking a light; sticking up each hisfarthing candle, or penurious oil-cruise, till all glitters andglimmers; so deft are they! A camisado, or shirt-tumult, every where:stormbell set a-ringing; village-drum beating furious generale, ashere at Clermont, under illumination; distracted Patriots pleading andmenacing! Brave young Colonel de Damas, in that uproar of distractedPatriotism, speaks some fire-sentences to what Troopers he has:"Comrades insulted at Sainte-Menehould; King and Country calling onthe brave;" then gives the fire-word, Draw swords. Whereupon, alas, theTroopers only smite their sword-handles, driving them further home! "Tome, whoever is for the King!" cries Damas in despair; and gallops, hewith some poor loyal Two, of the subaltern sort, into the bosom ofthe Night. (Proces-verbal du Directoire de Clermont in Choiseul, p. 189-95. ) Night unexampled in the Clermontais; shortest of the year; remarkablestof the century: Night deserving to be named of Spurs! Cornet Remy, andthose Few he dashed off with, has missed his road; is galloping forhours towards Verdun; then, for hours, across hedged country, throughroused hamlets, towards Varennes. Unlucky Cornet Remy; unluckier ColonelDamas, with whom there ride desperate only some loyal Two! More ride notof that Clermont Escort: of other Escorts, in other Villages, not evenTwo may ride; but only all curvet and prance, --impeded by stormbell andyour Village illuminating itself. And Drouet rides and Clerk Guillaume; and the Country runs. --Goguelatand Duke Choiseul are plunging through morasses, over cliffs, overstock and stone, in the shaggy woods of the Clermontais; by tracks;or trackless, with guides; Hussars tumbling into pitfalls, and lying'swooned three quarters of an hour, ' the rest refusing to march withoutthem. What an evening-ride from Pont-de-Sommerville; what a thirtyhours, since Choiseul quitted Paris, with Queen's-valet Leonard in thechaise by him! Black Care sits behind the rider. Thus go they plunging;rustle the owlet from his branchy nest; champ the sweet-scentedforest-herb, queen-of-the-meadows spilling her spikenard; and frightenthe ear of Night. But hark! towards twelve o'clock, as one guesses, forthe very stars are gone out: sound of the tocsin from Varennes? Checkingbridle, the Hussar Officer listens: "Some fire undoubtedly!"--yet rideson, with double breathlessness, to verify. Yes, gallant friends that do your utmost, it is a certain sort of fire:difficult to quench. --The Korff Berline, fairly ahead of all this ridingAvalanche, reached the little paltry Village of Varennes about eleveno'clock; hopeful, in spite of that horse-whispering Unknown. Do not alltowns now lie behind us; Verdun avoided, on our right? Within windof Bouille himself, in a manner; and the darkest of midsummer nightsfavouring us! And so we halt on the hill-top at the South end of theVillage; expecting our relay; which young Bouille, Bouille's own son, with his Escort of Hussars, was to have ready; for in this Village is noPost. Distracting to think of: neither horse nor Hussar is here! Ah, and stout horses, a proper relay belonging to Duke Choiseul, do stand athay, but in the Upper Village over the Bridge; and we know not of them. Hussars likewise do wait, but drinking in the taverns. For indeed it issix hours beyond the time; young Bouille, silly stripling, thinkingthe matter over for this night, has retired to bed. And so our yellowCouriers, inexperienced, must rove, groping, bungling, through a Villagemostly asleep: Postillions will not, for any money, go on with the tiredhorses; not at least without refreshment; not they, let the Valet inround hat argue as he likes. Miserable! 'For five-and-thirty minutes' by the King's watch, theBerline is at a dead stand; Round-hat arguing with Churnboots; tiredhorses slobbering their meal-and-water; yellow Couriers groping, bungling;--young Bouille asleep, all the while, in the Upper Village, and Choiseul's fine team standing there at hay. No help for it; notwith a King's ransom: the horses deliberately slobber, Round-hat argues, Bouille sleeps. And mark now, in the thick night, do not two Horsemen, with jaded trot, come clank-clanking; and start with half-pause, ifone noticed them, at sight of this dim mass of a Berline, and its dullslobbering and arguing; then prick off faster, into the Village? Itis Drouet, he and Clerk Guillaume! Still ahead, they two, of the wholeriding hurlyburly; unshot, though some brag of having chased them. Perilous is Drouet's errand also; but he is an Old-Dragoon, with hiswits shaken thoroughly awake. The Village of Varennes lies dark and slumberous; a most unlevelVillage, of inverse saddle-shape, as men write. It sleeps; the rushingof the River Aire singing lullaby to it. Nevertheless from the GoldenArms, Bras d'Or Tavern, across that sloping marketplace, there stillcomes shine of social light; comes voice of rude drovers, or the like, who have not yet taken the stirrup-cup; Boniface Le Blanc, in whiteapron, serving them: cheerful to behold. To this Bras d'Or, Drouetenters, alacrity looking through his eyes: he nudges Boniface, in allprivacy, "Camarade, es tu bon Patriote, Art thou a good Patriot?"--"Sije suis!" answers Boniface. --"In that case, " eagerly whispersDrouet--what whisper is needful, heard of Boniface alone. (Deux Amis, vi. 139-78. ) And now see Boniface Le Blanc bustling, as he never did for the jolliesttoper. See Drouet and Guillaume, dexterous Old-Dragoons, instantly downblocking the Bridge, with a 'furniture waggon they find there, ' withwhatever waggons, tumbrils, barrels, barrows their hands can lay holdof;--till no carriage can pass. Then swiftly, the Bridge once blocked, see them take station hard by, under Varennes Archway: joined by LeBlanc, Le Blanc's Brother, and one or two alert Patriots he has roused. Some half-dozen in all, with National Muskets, they stand close, waitingunder the Archway, till that same Korff Berline rumble up. It rumbles up: Alte la! lanterns flash out from under coat-skirts, bridles chuck in strong fists, two National Muskets levelthemselves fore and aft through the two Coach-doors: "Mesdames, yourPassports?"--Alas! Alas! Sieur Sausse, Procureur of theTownship, Tallow-chandler also and Grocer is there, with officialgrocer-politeness; Drouet with fierce logic and ready wit:--Therespected Travelling Party, be it Baroness de Korff's, or persons ofstill higher consequence, will perhaps please to rest itself in M. Sausse's till the dawn strike up! O Louis; O hapless Marie-Antoinette, fated to pass thy life with suchmen! Phlegmatic Louis, art thou but lazy semi-animate phlegm then, tothe centre of thee? King, Captain-General, Sovereign Frank! If thyheart ever formed, since it began beating under the name of heart, anyresolution at all, be it now then, or never in this world: "Violentnocturnal individuals, and if it were persons of high consequence?And if it were the King himself? Has the King not the power, which allbeggars have, of travelling unmolested on his own Highway? Yes: it isthe King; and tremble ye to know it! The King has said, in this onesmall matter; and in France, or under God's Throne, is no power thatshall gainsay. Not the King shall ye stop here under this your miserableArchway; but his dead body only, and answer it to Heaven and Earth. Tome, Bodyguards: Postillions, en avant!"--One fancies in that casethe pale paralysis of these two Le Blanc musketeers; the drooping ofDrouet's under-jaw; and how Procureur Sausse had melted like tallowin furnace-heat: Louis faring on; in some few steps awakeningYoung Bouille, awakening relays and hussars: triumphant entry, withcavalcading high-brandishing Escort, and Escorts, into Montmedi; and thewhole course of French History different! Alas, it was not in the poor phlegmatic man. Had it been in him, FrenchHistory had never come under this Varennes Archway to decide itself. --Hesteps out; all step out. Procureur Sausse gives his grocer-arms to theQueen and Sister Elizabeth; Majesty taking the two children by the hand. And thus they walk, coolly back, over the Marketplace, to ProcureurSausse's; mount into his small upper story; where straightway hisMajesty 'demands refreshments. ' Demands refreshments, as is written;gets bread-and-cheese with a bottle of Burgundy; and remarks, that it isthe best Burgundy he ever drank! Meanwhile, the Varennes Notables, and all men, official, andnon-official, are hastily drawing on their breeches; getting theirfighting-gear. Mortals half-dressed tumble out barrels, lay felledtrees; scouts dart off to all the four winds, --the tocsin beginsclanging, 'the Village illuminates itself. ' Very singular: how theselittle Villages do manage, so adroit are they, when startled in midnightalarm of war. Like little adroit municipal rattle-snakes, suddenlyawakened: for their stormbell rattles and rings; their eyes glistenluminous (with tallow-light), as in rattle-snake ire; and the Villagewill sting! Old-Dragoon Drouet is our engineer and generalissimo;valiant as a Ruy Diaz:--Now or never, ye Patriots, for the Soldiery iscoming; massacre by Austrians, by Aristocrats, wars more than civil, it all depends on you and the hour!--National Guards rank themselves, half-buttoned: mortals, we say, still only in breeches, inunder-petticoat, tumble out barrels and lumber, lay felled trees forbarricades: the Village will sting. Rabid Democracy, it would seem, isnot confined to Paris, then? Ah no, whatsoever Courtiers might talk; tooclearly no. This of dying for one's King is grown into a dying for one'sself, against the King, if need be. And so our riding and running Avalanche and Hurlyburly has reached theAbyss, Korff Berline foremost; and may pour itself thither, and jumble:endless! For the next six hours, need we ask if there was a clatteringfar and wide? Clattering and tocsining and hot tumult, over all theClermontais, spreading through the Three Bishopricks: Dragoon and HussarTroops galloping on roads and no-roads; National Guards arming andstarting in the dead of night; tocsin after tocsin transmitting thealarm. In some forty minutes, Goguelat and Choiseul, with their weariedHussars, reach Varennes. Ah, it is no fire then; or a fire difficult toquench! They leap the tree-barricades, in spite of National serjeant;they enter the village, Choiseul instructing his Troopers how the matterreally is; who respond interjectionally, in their guttural dialect, "Der Konig; die Koniginn!" and seem stanch. These now, in their stanchhumour, will, for one thing, beset Procureur Sausse's house. Mostbeneficial: had not Drouet stormfully ordered otherwise; and evenbellowed, in his extremity, "Cannoneers to your guns!"--two oldhoney-combed Field-pieces, empty of all but cobwebs; the rattle whereof, as the Cannoneers with assured countenance trundled them up, didnevertheless abate the Hussar ardour, and produce a respectfullerranking further back. Jugs of wine, handed over the ranks, for theGerman throat too has sensibility, will complete the business. WhenEngineer Goguelat, some hour or so afterwards, steps forth, the responseto him is--a hiccuping Vive la Nation! What boots it? Goguelat, Choiseul, now also Count Damas, and all theVarennes Officiality are with the King; and the King can give no order, form no opinion; but sits there, as he has ever done, like clay onpotter's wheel; perhaps the absurdest of all pitiable and pardonableclay-figures that now circle under the Moon. He will go on, nextmorning, and take the National Guard with him; Sausse permitting!Hapless Queen: with her two children laid there on the mean bed, oldMother Sausse kneeling to Heaven, with tears and an audible prayer, tobless them; imperial Marie-Antoinette near kneeling to Son Sausse andWife Sausse, amid candle-boxes and treacle-barrels, --in vain! Thereare Three-thousand National Guards got in; before long they will countTen-thousand; tocsins spreading like fire on dry heath, or far faster. Young Bouille, roused by this Varennes tocsin, has taken horse, and--fled towards his Father. Thitherward also rides, in an almosthysterically desperate manner, a certain Sieur Aubriot, Choiseul'sOrderly; swimming dark rivers, our Bridge being blocked; spurring as ifthe Hell-hunt were at his heels. (Rapport de M. Aubriot Choiseul, p. 150-7. ) Through the village of Dun, he, galloping still on, scatters thealarm; at Dun, brave Captain Deslons and his Escort of a Hundred, saddleand ride. Deslons too gets into Varennes; leaving his Hundred outside, at the tree-barricade; offers to cut King Louis out, if he will orderit: but unfortunately "the work will prove hot;" whereupon King Louishas "no orders to give. " (Extrait d'un Rapport de M. Deslons, Choiseul, p. 164-7. ) And so the tocsin clangs, and Dragoons gallop; and can do nothing, having gallopped: National Guards stream in like the gathering ofravens: your exploding Thunder-chain, falling Avalanche, or what else weliken it to, does play, with a vengeance, --up now as far as Stenaiand Bouille himself. (Bouille, ii. 74-6. ) Brave Bouille, son of thewhirlwind, he saddles Royal Allemand; speaks fire-words, kindlingheart and eyes; distributes twenty-five gold-louis a company:--Ride, Royal-Allemand, long-famed: no Tuileries Charge and Necker-OrleansBust-Procession; a very King made captive, and world all to win!--Suchis the Night deserving to be named of Spurs. At six o'clock two things have happened. Lafayette's Aide-de-camp, Romoeuf, riding a franc etrier, on that old Herb-merchant's route, quickened during the last stages, has got to Varennes; where the Tenthousand now furiously demand, with fury of panic terror, that Royaltyshall forthwith return Paris-ward, that there be not infinite bloodshed. Also, on the other side, 'English Tom, ' Choiseul's jokei, flyingwith that Choiseul relay, has met Bouille on the heights of Dun; theadamantine brow flushed with dark thunder; thunderous rattle of RoyalAllemand at his heels. English Tom answers as he can the brief question, How it is at Varennes?--then asks in turn what he, English Tom, with M. De Choiseul's horses, is to do, and whither to ride?--To the BottomlessPool! answers a thunder-voice; then again speaking and spurring, ordersRoyal Allemand to the gallop; and vanishes, swearing (en jurant). (Declaration du Sieur Thomas in Choiseul, p. 188. ) 'Tis the last ofour brave Bouille. Within sight of Varennes, he having drawn bridle, calls a council of officers; finds that it is in vain. King Louis hasdeparted, consenting: amid the clangour of universal stormbell; amidthe tramp of Ten thousand armed men, already arrived; and say, of Sixtythousand flocking thither. Brave Deslons, even without 'orders, ' dartedat the River Aire with his Hundred! (Weber, ii. 386. ) swam one branchof it, could not the other; and stood there, dripping and panting, with inflated nostril; the Ten thousand answering him with a shout ofmockery, the new Berline lumbering Paris-ward its weary inevitable way. No help, then in Earth; nor in an age, not of miracles, in Heaven! That night, 'Marquis de Bouille and twenty-one more of us rode over theFrontiers; the Bernardine monks at Orval in Luxemburg gave us supper andlodging. ' (Aubriot, ut supra, p. 158. ) With little of speech, Bouillerides; with thoughts that do not brook speech. Northward, towardsuncertainty, and the Cimmerian Night: towards West-Indian Isles, forwith thin Emigrant delirium the son of the whirlwind cannot act; towardsEngland, towards premature Stoical death; not towards France anymore. Honour to the Brave; who, be it in this quarrel or in that, isa substance and articulate-speaking piece of Human Valour, not afanfaronading hollow Spectrum and squeaking and gibbering Shadow! One ofthe few Royalist Chief-actors this Bouille, of whom so much can be said. The brave Bouille too, then, vanishes from the tissue of our Story. Story and tissue, faint ineffectual Emblem of that grand MiraculousTissue, and Living Tapestry named French Revolution, which did weaveitself then in very fact, 'on the loud-sounding 'LOOM OF TIME!' The oldBrave drop out from it, with their strivings; and new acrid Drouets, ofnew strivings and colour, come in:--as is the manner of that weaving. Chapter 2. 4. VIII. The Return. So then our grand Royalist Plot, of Flight to Metz, has executed itself. Long hovering in the background, as a dread royal ultimatum, it hasrushed forward in its terrors: verily to some purpose. How many RoyalistPlots and Projects, one after another, cunningly-devised, that were toexplode like powder-mines and thunderclaps; not one solitary Plotof which has issued otherwise! Powder-mine of a Seance Royale on theTwenty-third of June 1789, which exploded as we then said, 'through thetouchhole;' which next, your wargod Broglie having reloaded it, broughta Bastille about your ears. Then came fervent Opera-Repast, withflourishing of sabres, and O Richard, O my King; which, aided by Hunger, produces Insurrection of Women, and Pallas Athene in the shape ofDemoiselle Theroigne. Valour profits not; neither has fortune smiled onFanfaronade. The Bouille Armament ends as the Broglie one had done. Manafter man spends himself in this cause, only to work it quicker ruin; itseems a cause doomed, forsaken of Earth and Heaven. On the Sixth of October gone a year, King Louis, escorted by DemoiselleTheroigne and some two hundred thousand, made a Royal Progress andEntrance into Paris, such as man had never witnessed: we prophesied himTwo more such; and accordingly another of them, after this Flight toMetz, is now coming to pass. Theroigne will not escort here, neitherdoes Mirabeau now 'sit in one of the accompanying carriages. ' Mirabeaulies dead, in the Pantheon of Great Men. Theroigne lies living, in darkAustrian Prison; having gone to Liege, professionally, and been seizedthere. Bemurmured now by the hoarse-flowing Danube; the light of herPatriot Supper-Parties gone quite out; so lies Theroigne: she shallspeak with the Kaiser face to face, and return. And France lies how!Fleeting Time shears down the great and the little; and in two yearsalters many things. But at all events, here, we say, is a second Ignominious RoyalProcession, though much altered; to be witnessed also by its hundreds ofthousands. Patience, ye Paris Patriots; the Royal Berline is returning. Not till Saturday: for the Royal Berline travels by slow stages; amidsuch loud-voiced confluent sea of National Guards, sixty thousand asthey count; amid such tumult of all people. Three National-AssemblyCommissioners, famed Barnave, famed Petion, generally-respectableLatour-Maubourg, have gone to meet it; of whom the two former ride inthe Berline itself beside Majesty, day after day. Latour, as a mererespectability, and man of whom all men speak well, can ride in therear, with Dame Tourzel and the Soubrettes. So on Saturday evening, about seven o'clock, Paris by hundreds ofthousands is again drawn up: not now dancing the tricolor joy-danceof hope; nor as yet dancing in fury-dance of hate and revenge; but insilence, with vague look of conjecture and curiosity mostly scientific. A Sainte-Antoine Placard has given notice this morning that 'whosoeverinsults Louis shall be caned, whosoever applauds him shall be hanged. 'Behold then, at last, that wonderful New Berline; encircled by blueNational sea with fixed bayonets, which flows slowly, floating iton, through the silent assembled hundreds of thousands. Three yellowCouriers sit atop bound with ropes; Petion, Barnave, their Majesties, with Sister Elizabeth, and the Children of France, are within. Smile of embarrassment, or cloud of dull sourness, is on the broadphlegmatic face of his Majesty: who keeps declaring to the successiveOfficial-persons, what is evident, "Eh bien, me voila, Well, here youhave me;" and what is not evident, "I do assure you I did not mean topass the frontiers;" and so forth: speeches natural for that poor Royalman; which Decency would veil. Silent is her Majesty, with a look ofgrief and scorn; natural for that Royal Woman. Thus lumbers andcreeps the ignominious Royal Procession, through many streets, amid asilent-gazing people: comparable, Mercier thinks, (Nouveau Paris, iii. 22. ) to some Procession de Roi de Bazoche; or say, Procession ofKing Crispin, with his Dukes of Sutor-mania and royal blazonry ofCordwainery. Except indeed that this is not comic; ah no, it iscomico-tragic; with bound Couriers, and a Doom hanging over it; mostfantastic, yet most miserably real. Miserablest flebile ludibrium of aPickleherring Tragedy! It sweeps along there, in most ungorgeous pall, through many streets, in the dusty summer evening; gets itself at lengthwriggled out of sight; vanishing in the Tuileries Palace--towards itsdoom, of slow torture, peine forte et dure. Populace, it is true, seizes the three rope-bound yellow Couriers; willat least massacre them. But our august Assembly, which is sitting atthis great moment, sends out Deputation of rescue; and the whole isgot huddled up. Barnave, 'all dusty, ' is already there, in the NationalHall; making brief discreet address and report. As indeed, through thewhole journey, this Barnave has been most discreet, sympathetic; and hasgained the Queen's trust, whose noble instinct teaches her always whois to be trusted. Very different from heavy Petion; who, if Campan speaktruth, ate his luncheon, comfortably filled his wine-glass, in the RoyalBerline; flung out his chicken-bones past the nose of Royalty itself;and, on the King's saying "France cannot be a Republic, " answered "No, it is not ripe yet. " Barnave is henceforth a Queen's adviser, if advicecould profit: and her Majesty astonishes Dame Campan by signifyingalmost a regard for Barnave: and that, in a day of retribution and Royaltriumph, Barnave shall not be executed. (Campan, ii. C. 18. ) On Monday night Royalty went; on Saturday evening it returns: somuch, within one short week, has Royalty accomplished for itself. ThePickleherring Tragedy has vanished in the Tuileries Palace, towards'pain strong and hard. ' Watched, fettered, and humbled, as Royalty neverwas. Watched even in its sleeping-apartments and inmost recesses: for ithas to sleep with door set ajar, blue National Argus watching, his eyefixed on the Queen's curtains; nay, on one occasion, as the Queen cannotsleep, he offers to sit by her pillow, and converse a little! (Ibid. Ii. 149. ) Chapter 2. 4. IX. Sharp Shot. In regard to all which, this most pressing question arises: What isto be done with it? "Depose it!" resolutely answer Robespierre and thethoroughgoing few. For truly, with a King who runs away, and needs to bewatched in his very bedroom that he may stay and govern you, what otherreasonable thing can be done? Had Philippe d'Orleans not been a caputmortuum! But of him, known as one defunct, no man now dreams. "Depose itnot; say that it is inviolable, that it was spirited away, was enleve;at any cost of sophistry and solecism, reestablish it!" so answer withloud vehemence all manner of Constitutional Royalists; as all your PureRoyalists do naturally likewise, with low vehemence, and rage compressedby fear, still more passionately answer. Nay Barnave and the twoLameths, and what will follow them, do likewise answer so. Answer, withtheir whole might: terror-struck at the unknown Abysses on the vergeof which, driven thither by themselves mainly, all now reels, ready toplunge. By mighty effort and combination this latter course, of reestablish it, is the course fixed on; and it shall by the strong arm, if not bythe clearest logic, be made good. With the sacrifice of all theirhard-earned popularity, this notable Triumvirate, says Toulongeon, 'setthe Throne up again, which they had so toiled to overturn: as one mightset up an overturned pyramid, on its vertex; to stand so long as it isheld. ' Unhappy France; unhappy in King, Queen, and Constitution; one knowsnot in which unhappiest! Was the meaning of our so glorious FrenchRevolution this, and no other, That when Shams and Delusions, longsoul-killing, had become body-killing, and got the length of Bankruptcyand Inanition, a great People rose and, with one voice, said, in theName of the Highest: Shams shall be no more? So many sorrows and bloodyhorrors, endured, and to be yet endured through dismal coming centuries, were they not the heavy price paid and payable for this same: TotalDestruction of Shams from among men? And now, O Barnave Triumvirate! isit in such double-distilled Delusion, and Sham even of a Sham, thatan Effort of this kind will rest acquiescent? Messieurs of the popularTriumvirate: Never! But, after all, what can poor popular Triumviratesand fallible august Senators do? They can, when the Truth is alltoo-horrible, stick their heads ostrich-like into what shelteringFallacy is nearest: and wait there, a posteriori! Readers who saw the Clermontais and Three-Bishopricks gallop, in theNight of Spurs; Diligences ruffling up all France into one terrificterrified Cock of India; and the Town of Nantes in its shirt, --may fancywhat an affair to settle this was. Robespierre, on the extreme Left, with perhaps Petion and lean old Goupil, for the very Triumvirate hasdefalcated, are shrieking hoarse; drowned in Constitutional clamour. But the debate and arguing of a whole Nation; the bellowings throughall Journals, for and against; the reverberant voice of Danton;the Hyperion-shafts of Camille; the porcupine-quills of implacableMarat:--conceive all this. Constitutionalists in a body, as we often predicted, do now recedefrom the Mother Society, and become Feuillans; threatening her withinanition, the rank and respectability being mostly gone. Petition afterPetition, forwarded by Post, or borne in Deputation, comes praying forJudgment and Decheance, which is our name for Deposition; praying, atlowest, for Reference to the Eighty-three Departments of France. HotMarseillese Deputation comes declaring, among other things: "Our PhoceanAncestors flung a Bar of Iron into the Bay at their first landing; thisBar will float again on the Mediterranean brine before we consent to beslaves. " All this for four weeks or more, while the matter still hangsdoubtful; Emigration streaming with double violence over the frontiers;(Bouille, ii. 101. ) France seething in fierce agitation of this questionand prize-question: What is to be done with the fugitive HereditaryRepresentative? Finally, on Friday the 15th of July 1791, the National Assembly decides;in what negatory manner we know. Whereupon the Theatres all close, theBourne-stones and Portable-chairs begin spouting, Municipal Placardsflaming on the walls, and Proclamations published by sound of trumpet, 'invite to repose;' with small effect. And so, on Sunday the 17th, thereshall be a thing seen, worthy of remembering. Scroll of a Petition, drawn up by Brissots, Dantons, by Cordeliers, Jacobins; for the thingwas infinitely shaken and manipulated, and many had a hand in it: suchScroll lies now visible, on the wooden framework of the Fatherland'sAltar, for signature. Unworking Paris, male and female, is crowdingthither, all day, to sign or to see. Our fair Roland herself the eye ofHistory can discern there, 'in the morning;' (Madame Roland, ii. 74. )not without interest. In few weeks the fair Patriot will quit Paris; yetperhaps only to return. But, what with sorrow of baulked Patriotism, what with closed theatres, and Proclamations still publishing themselves by sound of trumpet, thefervour of men's minds, this day, is great. Nay, over and above, therehas fallen out an incident, of the nature of Farce-Tragedy and Riddle;enough to stimulate all creatures. Early in the day, a Patriot (or somesay, it was a Patriotess, and indeed Truth is undiscoverable), whilestanding on the firm deal-board of Fatherland's Altar, feels suddenly, with indescribable torpedo-shock of amazement, his bootsole prickedthrough from below; he clutches up suddenly this electrified bootsoleand foot; discerns next instant--the point of a gimlet or brad-awlplaying up, through the firm deal-board, and now hastily drawing itselfback! Mystery, perhaps Treason? The wooden frame-work is impetuouslybroken up; and behold, verily a mystery; never explicable fully to theend of the world! Two human individuals, of mean aspect, one of themwith a wooden leg, lie ensconced there, gimlet in hand: they must havecome in overnight; they have a supply of provisions, --no 'barrel ofgunpowder' that one can see; they affect to be asleep; look blankenough, and give the lamest account of themselves. "Mere curiosity; theywere boring up to get an eye-hole; to see, perhaps 'with lubricity, 'whatsoever, from that new point of vision, could be seen:"--little thatwas edifying, one would think! But indeed what stupidest thing may nothuman Dulness, Pruriency, Lubricity, Chance and the Devil, choosing Twoout of Half-a-million idle human heads, tempt them to? (Hist. Parl. Xi. 104-7. ) Sure enough, the two human individuals with their gimlet are there. Ill-starred pair of individuals! For the result of it all is thatPatriotism, fretting itself, in this state of nervous excitability, with hypotheses, suspicions and reports, keeps questioning these twodistracted human individuals, and again questioning them; claps theminto the nearest Guardhouse, clutches them out again; one hypotheticgroup snatching them from another: till finally, in such extreme stateof nervous excitability, Patriotism hangs them as spies of Sieur Motier;and the life and secret is choked out of them forevermore. Forevermore, alas! Or is a day to be looked for when these two evidently meanindividuals, who are human nevertheless, will become Historical Riddles;and, like him of the Iron Mask (also a human individual, and evidentlynothing more), --have their Dissertations? To us this only is certain, that they had a gimlet, provisions and a wooden leg; and have died thereon the Lanterne, as the unluckiest fools might die. And so the signature goes on, in a still more excited manner. AndChaumette, for Antiquarians possess the very Paper to this hour, (Ibid. Xi. 113, &c. )--has signed himself 'in a flowing saucy hand slightlyleaned;' and Hebert, detestable Pere Duchene, as if 'an inked spider haddropped on the paper;' Usher Maillard also has signed, and many Crosses, which cannot write. And Paris, through its thousand avenues, is wellingto the Champ-de-Mars and from it, in the utmost excitability of humour;central Fatherland's Altar quite heaped with signing Patriots andPatriotesses; the Thirty-benches and whole internal Space crowded withonlookers, with comers and goers; one regurgitating whirlpool of men andwomen in their Sunday clothes. All which a Constitutional Sieur Motiersees; and Bailly, looking into it with his long visage made stilllonger. Auguring no good; perhaps Decheance and Deposition after all!Stop it, ye Constitutional Patriots; fire itself is quenchable, yet onlyquenchable at first! Stop it, truly: but how stop it? Have not the first Free People of theUniverse a right to petition?--Happily, if also unhappily, here is oneproof of riot: these two human individuals, hanged at the Lanterne. Proof, O treacherous Sieur Motier? Were they not two human individualssent thither by thee to be hanged; to be a pretext for thy bloodyDrapeau Rouge? This question shall many a Patriot, one day, ask; andanswer affirmatively, strong in Preternatural Suspicion. Enough, towards half past seven in the evening, the mere natural eyecan behold this thing: Sieur Motier, with Municipals in scarf, with blueNational Patrollotism, rank after rank, to the clang of drums; wendingresolutely to the Champ-de-Mars; Mayor Bailly, with elongated visage, bearing, as in sad duty bound, the Drapeau Rouge! Howl of angry derisionrises in treble and bass from a hundred thousand throats, at the sightof Martial Law; which nevertheless waving its Red sanguinary Flag, advances there, from the Gros-Caillou Entrance; advances, drummingand waving, towards Altar of Fatherland. Amid still wilder howls, withobjurgation, obtestation; with flights of pebbles and mud, saxa etfaeces; with crackle of a pistol-shot;--finally with volley-fire ofPatrollotism; levelled muskets; roll of volley on volley! Preciselyafter one year and three days, our sublime Federation Field is wetted, in this manner, with French blood. Some 'Twelve unfortunately shot, ' reports Bailly, counting by units; butPatriotism counts by tens and even by hundreds. Not to be forgotten, nor forgiven! Patriotism flies, shrieking, execrating. Camille ceasesJournalising, this day; great Danton with Camille and Freron have takenwing, for their life; Marat burrows deep in the Earth, and is silent. Once more Patrollotism has triumphed: one other time; but it is thelast. This was the Royal Flight to Varennes. Thus was the Throne overturnedthereby; but thus also was it victoriously set up again--on its vertex;and will stand while it can be held. BOOK 2. V. PARLIAMENT FIRST Chapter 2. 5. I. Grande Acceptation. In the last nights of September, when the autumnal equinox is past, and grey September fades into brown October, why are the Champs Elyseesilluminated; why is Paris dancing, and flinging fire-works? They aregala-nights, these last of September; Paris may well dance, and theUniverse: the Edifice of the Constitution is completed! Completed; nayrevised, to see that there was nothing insufficient in it; solemnlyproferred to his Majesty; solemnly accepted by him, to the soundof cannon-salvoes, on the fourteenth of the month. And now by suchillumination, jubilee, dancing and fire-working, do we joyously handselthe new Social Edifice, and first raise heat and reek there, in the nameof Hope. The Revision, especially with a throne standing on its vertex, hasbeen a work of difficulty, of delicacy. In the way of propping andbuttressing, so indispensable now, something could be done; and yet, as is feared, not enough. A repentant Barnave Triumvirate, our Rabauts, Duports, Thourets, and indeed all Constitutional Deputies did strainevery nerve: but the Extreme Left was so noisy; the People were sosuspicious, clamorous to have the work ended: and then the loyal RightSide sat feeble petulant all the while, and as it were, pouting andpetting; unable to help, had they even been willing; the two Hundred andNinety had solemnly made scission, before that: and departed, shakingthe dust off their feet. To such transcendency of fret, and desperatehope that worsening of the bad might the sooner end it and bring backthe good, had our unfortunate loyal Right Side now come! (Toulongeon, ii. 56, 59. ) However, one finds that this and the other little prop has been added, where possibility allowed. Civil-list and Privy-purse were from of oldwell cared for. King's Constitutional Guard, Eighteen hundred loyal menfrom the Eighty-three Departments, under a loyal Duke de Brissac; this, with trustworthy Swiss besides, is of itself something. The old loyalBodyguards are indeed dissolved, in name as well as in fact; and gonemostly towards Coblentz. But now also those Sansculottic violent GardesFrancaises, or Centre Grenadiers, shall have their mittimus: they doere long, in the Journals, not without a hoarse pathos, publish theirFarewell; 'wishing all Aristocrats the graves in Paris which to us aredenied. ' (Hist. Parl. Xiii. 73. ) They depart, these first Soldiers ofthe Revolution; they hover very dimly in the distance for about anotheryear; till they can be remodelled, new-named, and sent to fight theAustrians; and then History beholds them no more. A most notable Corpsof men; which has its place in World-History;--though to us, so isHistory written, they remain mere rubrics of men; nameless; a shaggyGrenadier Mass, crossed with buff-belts. And yet might we not ask: WhatArgonauts, what Leonidas' Spartans had done such a work? Think oftheir destiny: since that May morning, some three years ago, when they, unparticipating, trundled off d'Espremenil to the Calypso Isles; sincethat July evening, some two years ago, when they, participating andsacreing with knit brows, poured a volley into Besenval's Prince deLambesc! History waves them her mute adieu. So that the Sovereign Power, these Sansculottic Watchdogs, more likewolves, being leashed and led away from his Tuileries, breathesfreer. The Sovereign Power is guarded henceforth by a loyal Eighteenhundred, --whom Contrivance, under various pretexts, may gradually swellto Six thousand; who will hinder no Journey to Saint-Cloud. The sadVarennes business has been soldered up; cemented, even in the blood ofthe Champ-de-Mars, these two months and more; and indeed ever since, as formerly, Majesty has had its privileges, its 'choice of residence, 'though, for good reasons, the royal mind 'prefers continuing in Paris. 'Poor royal mind, poor Paris; that have to go mumming; enveloped inspeciosities, in falsehood which knows itself false; and to enactmutually your sorrowful farce-tragedy, being bound to it; and on thewhole, to hope always, in spite of hope! Nay, now that his Majesty has accepted the Constitution, to the sound ofcannon-salvoes, who would not hope? Our good King was misguided but hemeant well. Lafayette has moved for an Amnesty, for universal forgivingand forgetting of Revolutionary faults; and now surely the gloriousRevolution cleared of its rubbish, is complete! Strange enough, andtouching in several ways, the old cry of Vive le Roi once more risesround King Louis the Hereditary Representative. Their Majesties wentto the Opera; gave money to the Poor: the Queen herself, now when theConstitution is accepted, hears voice of cheering. Bygone shall bebygone; the New Era shall begin! To and fro, amid those lamp-galaxiesof the Elysian Fields, the Royal Carriage slowly wends and rolls; everywhere with vivats, from a multitude striving to be glad. Louislooks out, mainly on the variegated lamps and gay human groups, withsatisfaction enough for the hour. In her Majesty's face, 'underthat kind graceful smile a deep sadness is legible. ' (De Stael, Considerations, i. C. 23. ) Brilliancies, of valour and of wit, strollhere observant: a Dame de Stael, leaning most probably on the arm ofher Narbonne. She meets Deputies; who have built this Constitution; whosaunter here with vague communings, --not without thoughts whether itwill stand. But as yet melodious fiddlestrings twang and warble everywhere, with the rhythm of light fantastic feet; long lamp-galaxiesfling their coloured radiance; and brass-lunged Hawkers elbow and bawl, "Grande Acceptation, Constitution Monarchique:" it behoves the Son ofAdam to hope. Have not Lafayette, Barnave, and all Constitutionalistsset their shoulders handsomely to the inverted pyramid of a throne?Feuillans, including almost the whole Constitutional Respectabilityof France, perorate nightly from their tribune; correspond through allPost-offices; denouncing unquiet Jacobinism; trusting well that its timeis nigh done. Much is uncertain, questionable: but if the HereditaryRepresentative be wise and lucky, may one not, with a sanguine Gaelictemper, hope that he will get in motion better or worse; that what iswanting to him will gradually be gained and added? For the rest, as we must repeat, in this building of the ConstitutionalFabric, especially in this Revision of it, nothing that one couldthink of to give it new strength, especially to steady it, to give itpermanence, and even eternity, has been forgotten. Biennial Parliament, to be called Legislative, Assemblee Legislative; with Seven Hundredand Forty-five Members, chosen in a judicious manner by the 'activecitizens' alone, and even by electing of electors still more active:this, with privileges of Parliament shall meet, self-authorized if needbe, and self-dissolved; shall grant money-supplies and talk; watch overthe administration and authorities; discharge for ever the functionsof a Constitutional Great Council, Collective Wisdom, and NationalPalaver, --as the Heavens will enable. Our First biennial Parliament, which indeed has been a-choosing since early in August, is now as goodas chosen. Nay it has mostly got to Paris: it arrived gradually;--notwithout pathetic greeting to its venerable Parent, the now moribundConstituent; and sat there in the Galleries, reverently listening; readyto begin, the instant the ground were clear. Then as to changes in the Constitution itself? This, impossible for anyLegislative, or common biennial Parliament, and possible solely for someresuscitated Constituent or National Convention, --is evidently one ofthe most ticklish points. The august moribund Assembly debated it forfour entire days. Some thought a change, or at least reviewal and newapproval, might be admissible in thirty years; some even went lower, down to twenty, nay to fifteen. The august Assembly had once decided forthirty years; but it revoked that, on better thoughts; and did notfix any date of time, but merely some vague outline of a posture ofcircumstances, and on the whole left the matter hanging. (Choix deRapports, &c. (Paris, 1825), vi. 239-317. ) Doubtless a NationalConvention can be assembled even within the thirty years: yet one mayhope, not; but that Legislatives, biennial Parliaments of the commonkind, with their limited faculty, and perhaps quiet successive additionsthereto, may suffice, for generations, or indeed while computed Timeruns. Furthermore, be it noted that no member of this Constituent has been, or could be, elected to the new Legislative. So noble-minded werethese Law-makers! cry some: and Solon-like would banish themselves. Sosplenetic! cry more: each grudging the other, none daring to be outdonein self-denial by the other. So unwise in either case! answer allpractical men. But consider this other self-denying ordinance, That noneof us can be King's Minister, or accept the smallest Court Appointment, for the space of four, or at lowest (and on long debate and Revision), for the space of two years! So moves the incorruptible seagreenRobespierre; with cheap magnanimity he; and none dare be outdone by him. It was such a law, not so superfluous then, that sent Mirabeau to theGardens of Saint-Cloud, under cloak of darkness, to that colloquy ofthe gods; and thwarted many things. Happily and unhappily there is noMirabeau now to thwart. Welcomer meanwhile, welcome surely to all right hearts, is Lafayette'schivalrous Amnesty. Welcome too is that hard-wrung Union of Avignon;which has cost us, first and last, 'thirty sessions of debate, ' and somuch else: may it at length prove lucky! Rousseau's statue is decreed:virtuous Jean-Jacques, Evangelist of the Contrat Social. Not Drouet ofVarennes; nor worthy Lataille, master of the old world-famous TennisCourt in Versailles, is forgotten; but each has his honourable mention, and due reward in money. (Moniteur in Hist. Parl. Xi. 473. ) Whereupon, things being all so neatly winded up, and the Deputations, and Messages, and royal and other Ceremonials having rustled by; and the King havingnow affectionately perorated about peace and tranquilisation, and members having answered "Oui! oui!" with effusion, even withtears, --President Thouret, he of the Law Reforms, rises, and, witha strong voice, utters these memorable last-words: "The NationalConstituent Assembly declares that it has finished its mission; and thatits sittings are all ended. " Incorruptible Robespierre, virtuous Petionare borne home on the shoulders of the people; with vivats heaven-high. The rest glide quietly to their respective places of abode. It isthe last afternoon of September, 1791; on the morrow morning the newLegislative will begin. So, amid glitter of illuminated streets and Champs Elysees, and crackleof fireworks and glad deray, has the first National Assembly vanished;dissolving, as they well say, into blank Time; and is no more. NationalAssembly is gone, its work remaining; as all Bodies of men go, and asman himself goes: it had its beginning, and must likewise have its end. A Phantasm-Reality born of Time, as the rest of us are; flitting everbackwards now on the tide of Time: to be long remembered of men. Verystrange Assemblages, Sanhedrims, Amphictyonics, Trades Unions, EcumenicCouncils, Parliaments and Congresses, have met together on thisPlanet, and dispersed again; but a stranger Assemblage than this augustConstituent, or with a stranger mission, perhaps never met there. Seenfrom the distance, this also will be a miracle. Twelve Hundred humanindividuals, with the Gospel of Jean-Jacques Rousseau in their pocket, congregating in the name of Twenty-five Millions, with full assurance offaith, to 'make the Constitution:' such sight, the acme and main productof the Eighteenth Century, our World can witness once only. For Time isrich in wonders, in monstrosities most rich; and is observed never torepeat himself, or any of his Gospels:--surely least of all, this Gospelaccording to Jean-Jacques. Once it was right and indispensable, sincesuch had become the Belief of men; but once also is enough. They have made the Constitution, these Twelve Hundred Jean-JacquesEvangelists; not without result. Near twenty-nine months they sat, with various fortune; in various capacity;--always, we may say, in thatcapacity of carborne Caroccio, and miraculous Standard of the Revolt ofMen, as a Thing high and lifted up; whereon whosoever looked might hopehealing. They have seen much: cannons levelled on them; then suddenly, by interposition of the Powers, the cannons drawn back; and a war-godBroglie vanishing, in thunder not his own, amid the dust and downrushingof a Bastille and Old Feudal France. They have suffered somewhat: RoyalSession, with rain and Oath of the Tennis-Court; Nights of Pentecost;Insurrections of Women. Also have they not done somewhat? Made theConstitution, and managed all things the while; passed, in thesetwenty-nine months, 'twenty-five hundred Decrees, ' which on the averageis some three for each day, including Sundays! Brevity, one finds, ispossible, at times: had not Moreau de St. Mery to give three thousandorders before rising from his seat?--There was valour (or value) inthese men; and a kind of faith, --were it only faith in this, Thatcobwebs are not cloth; that a Constitution could be made. Cobwebsand chimeras ought verily to disappear; for a Reality there is. Letformulas, soul-killing, and now grown body-killing, insupportable, begone, in the name of Heaven and Earth!--Time, as we say, brought forththese Twelve Hundred; Eternity was before them, Eternity behind: theyworked, as we all do, in the confluence of Two Eternities; what work wasgiven them. Say not that it was nothing they did. Consciously theydid somewhat; unconsciously how much! They had their giants and theirdwarfs, they accomplished their good and their evil; they are gone, and return no more. Shall they not go with our blessing, in thesecircumstances; with our mild farewell? By post, by diligence, on saddle or sole; they are gone: towards thefour winds! Not a few over the marches, to rank at Coblentz. Thitherwended Maury, among others; but in the end towards Rome, --to be clothedthere in red Cardinal plush; in falsehood as in a garment; pet son (herlast-born?) of the Scarlet Woman. Talleyrand-Perigord, excommunicatedConstitutional Bishop, will make his way to London; to be Ambassador, spite of the Self-denying Law; brisk young Marquis Chauvelin actingas Ambassador's-Cloak. In London too, one finds Petion the virtuous;harangued and haranguing, pledging the wine-cup with ConstitutionalReform Clubs, in solemn tavern-dinner. Incorruptible Robespierre retiresfor a little to native Arras: seven short weeks of quiet; the lastappointed him in this world. Public Accuser in the Paris Department, acknowledged highpriest of the Jacobins; the glass of incorruptible thinPatriotism, for his narrow emphasis is loved of all the narrow, --thisman seems to be rising, somewhither? He sells his small heritage atArras; accompanied by a Brother and a Sister, he returns, scheming outwith resolute timidity a small sure destiny for himself and them, tohis old lodging, at the Cabinet-maker's, in the Rue St. Honore:--Oresolute-tremulous incorruptible seagreen man, towards what a destiny! Lafayette, for his part, will lay down the command. He retiresCincinnatus-like to his hearth and farm; but soon leaves them again. OurNational Guard, however, shall henceforth have no one Commandant; butall Colonels shall command in succession, month about. Other Deputies wehave met, or Dame de Stael has met, 'sauntering in a thoughtful manner;'perhaps uncertain what to do. Some, as Barnave, the Lameths, andtheir Duport, will continue here in Paris: watching the new biennialLegislative, Parliament the First; teaching it to walk, if so might be;and the Court to lead it. Thus these: sauntering in a thoughtful manner; travelling by postor diligence, --whither Fate beckons. Giant Mirabeau slumbers in thePantheon of Great Men: and France? and Europe?--The brass-lunged Hawkerssing "Grand Acceptation, Monarchic Constitution" through these gaycrowds: the Morrow, grandson of Yesterday, must be what it can, asTo-day its father is. Our new biennial Legislative begins to constituteitself on the first of October, 1791. Chapter 2. 5. II. The Book of the Law. If the august Constituent Assembly itself, fixing the regards ofthe Universe, could, at the present distance of time and place, gaincomparatively small attention from us, how much less can this poorLegislative! It has its Right Side and its Left; the less Patriotic andthe more, for Aristocrats exist not here or now: it spouts and speaks:listens to Reports, reads Bills and Laws; works in its vocation, for aseason: but the history of France, one finds, is seldom or never there. Unhappy Legislative, what can History do with it; if not drop a tearover it, almost in silence? First of the two-year Parliaments of France, which, if Paper Constitution and oft-repeated National Oath could availaught, were to follow in softly-strong indissoluble sequence while Timeran, --it had to vanish dolefully within one year; and there came nosecond like it. Alas! your biennial Parliaments in endless indissolublesequence; they, and all that Constitutional Fabric, built with suchexplosive Federation Oaths, and its top-stone brought out with dancingand variegated radiance, went to pieces, like frail crockery, in thecrash of things; and already, in eleven short months, were in that Limbonear the Moon, with the ghosts of other Chimeras. There, except for rarespecific purposes, let them rest, in melancholy peace. On the whole, how unknown is a man to himself; or a public Body of mento itself! Aesop's fly sat on the chariot-wheel, exclaiming, What a dustI do raise! Great Governors, clad in purple with fasces and insignia, are governed by their valets, by the pouting of their women andchildren; or, in Constitutional countries, by the paragraphs of theirAble Editors. Say not, I am this or that; I am doing this or that! Forthou knowest it not, thou knowest only the name it as yet goes by. Apurple Nebuchadnezzar rejoices to feel himself now verily Emperorof this great Babylon which he has builded; and is a nondescriptbiped-quadruped, on the eve of a seven-years course of grazing! TheseSeven Hundred and Forty-five elected individuals doubt not but they arethe First biennial Parliament, come to govern France by parliamentaryeloquence: and they are what? And they have come to do what? Thingsfoolish and not wise! It is much lamented by many that this First Biennial had no membersof the old Constituent in it, with their experience of parties andparliamentary tactics; that such was their foolish Self-denying Law. Most surely, old members of the Constituent had been welcome to us here. But, on the other hand, what old or what new members of any Constituentunder the Sun could have effectually profited? There are First biennialParliaments so postured as to be, in a sense, beyond wisdom; wherewisdom and folly differ only in degree, and wreckage and dissolution arethe appointed issue for both. Old-Constituents, your Barnaves, Lameths and the like, for whom aspecial Gallery has been set apart, where they may sit in honourand listen, are in the habit of sneering at these new Legislators;(Dumouriez, ii. 150, &c. ) but let not us! The poor Seven Hundred andForty-five, sent together by the active citizens of France, are whatthey could be; do what is fated them. That they are of Patriot temper wecan well understand. Aristocrat Noblesse had fled over the marches, orsat brooding silent in their unburnt Chateaus; small prospect had theyin Primary Electoral Assemblies. What with Flights to Varennes, whatwith Days of Poniards, with plot after plot, the People are left tothemselves; the People must needs choose Defenders of the People, suchas can be had. Choosing, as they also will ever do, 'if not the ablestman, yet the man ablest to be chosen!' Fervour of character, decidedPatriot-Constitutional feeling; these are qualities: but freeutterance, mastership in tongue-fence; this is the quality of qualities. Accordingly one finds, with little astonishment, in this First Biennial, that as many as Four hundred Members are of the Advocate or Attorneyspecies. Men who can speak, if there be aught to speak: nay here aremen also who can think, and even act. Candour will say of this ill-fatedFirst French Parliament that it wanted not its modicum of talent, itsmodicum of honesty; that it, neither in the one respect nor in theother, sank below the average of Parliaments, but rose above theaverage. Let average Parliaments, whom the world does not guillotine, and cast forth to long infamy, be thankful not to themselves but totheir stars! France, as we say, has once more done what it could: fervid men havecome together from wide separation; for strange issues. Fiery Max Isnardis come, from the utmost South-East; fiery Claude Fauchet, Te-DeumFauchet Bishop of Calvados, from the utmost North-West. No Mirabeau nowsits here, who had swallowed formulas: our only Mirabeau now isDanton, working as yet out of doors; whom some call 'Mirabeau of theSansculottes. ' Nevertheless we have our gifts, --especially of speech and logic. Aneloquent Vergniaud we have; most mellifluous yet most impetuous ofpublic speakers; from the region named Gironde, of the Garonne: aman unfortunately of indolent habits; who will sit playing with yourchildren, when he ought to be scheming and perorating. Sharp bustlingGuadet; considerate grave Censonne; kind-sparkling mirthful young Ducos;Valaze doomed to a sad end: all these likewise are of that Gironde, or Bourdeaux region: men of fervid Constitutional principles; of quicktalent, irrefragable logic, clear respectability; who will have theReign of Liberty establish itself, but only by respectable methods. Round whom others of like temper will gather; known by and by asGirondins, to the sorrowing wonder of the world. Of which sort noteCondorcet, Marquis and Philosopher; who has worked at much, at ParisMunicipal Constitution, Differential Calculus, Newspaper Chronique deParis, Biography, Philosophy; and now sits here as two-years Senator:a notable Condorcet, with stoical Roman face, and fiery heart; 'volcanohid under snow;' styled likewise, in irreverent language, 'moutonenrage, ' peaceablest of creatures bitten rabid! Or note, lastly, Jean-Pierre Brissot; whom Destiny, long working noisily with him, hashurled hither, say, to have done with him. A biennial Senator he too;nay, for the present, the king of such. Restless, scheming, scribblingBrissot; who took to himself the style de Warville, heralds know notin the least why;--unless it were that the father of him did, in anunexceptionable manner, perform Cookery and Vintnery in the Village ofOuarville? A man of the windmill species, that grinds always, turningtowards all winds; not in the steadiest manner. In all these men there is talent, faculty to work; and they will do it:working and shaping, not without effect, though alas not in marble, onlyin quicksand!--But the highest faculty of them all remains yet to bementioned; or indeed has yet to unfold itself for mention: CaptainHippolyte Carnot, sent hither from the Pas de Calais; with his coldmathematical head, and silent stubbornness of will: iron Carnot, far-planning, imperturbable, unconquerable; who, in the hour of need, shall not be found wanting. His hair is yet black; and it shall growgrey, under many kinds of fortune, bright and troublous; and with ironaspect this man shall face them all. Nor is Cote Droit, and band of King's friends, wanting: Vaublanc, Dumas, Jaucourt the honoured Chevalier; who love Liberty, yet with Monarchyover it; and speak fearlessly according to that faith;--whom thethick-coming hurricanes will sweep away. With them, let a new militaryTheodore Lameth be named;--were it only for his two Brothers' sake, wholook down on him, approvingly there, from the Old-Constituents' Gallery. Frothy professing Pastorets, honey-mouthed conciliatory Lamourettes, and speechless nameless individuals sit plentiful, as Moderates, in themiddle. Still less is a Cote Gauche wanting: extreme Left; sitting onthe topmost benches, as if aloft on its speculatory Height or Mountain, which will become a practical fulminatory Height, and make the name ofMountain famous-infamous to all times and lands. Honour waits not on this Mountain; nor as yet even loud dishonour. Giftsit boasts not, nor graces, of speaking or of thinking; solely this onegift of assured faith, of audacity that will defy the Earth andthe Heavens. Foremost here are the Cordelier Trio: hot Merlin fromThionville, hot Bazire, Attorneys both; Chabot, disfrocked Capuchin, skilful in agio. Lawyer Lacroix, who wore once as subaltern the singleepaulette, has loud lungs and a hungry heart. There too is Couthon, little dreaming what he is;--whom a sad chance has paralysed in thelower extremities. For, it seems, he sat once a whole night, not warm inhis true love's bower (who indeed was by law another's), but sunken tothe middle in a cold peat-bog, being hunted out; quaking for his life, in the cold quaking morass; (Dumouriez, ii. 370. ) and goes now oncrutches to the end. Cambon likewise, in whom slumbers undeveloped sucha finance-talent for printing of Assignats; Father of Paper-money; who, in the hour of menace, shall utter this stern sentence, 'War to theManorhouse, peace to the Hut, Guerre aux Chateaux, paix aux Chaumieres!'(Choix de Rapports, xi. 25. ) Lecointre, the intrepid Draper ofVersailles, is welcome here; known since the Opera-Repast andInsurrection of Women. Thuriot too; Elector Thuriot, who stood in theembrasures of the Bastille, and saw Saint-Antoine rising in mass; whohas many other things to see. Last and grimmest of all note old Ruhl, with his brown dusky face and long white hair; of Alsatian Lutheranbreed; a man whom age and book-learning have not taught; who, haranguingthe old men of Rheims, shall hold up the Sacred Ampulla (Heaven-sent, wherefrom Clovis and all Kings have been anointed) as a mere worthlessoil-bottle, and dash it to sherds on the pavement there; who, alas, shall dash much to sherds, and finally his own wild head, bypistol-shot, and so end it. Such lava welters redhot in the bowels of this Mountain; unknown to theworld and to itself! A mere commonplace Mountain hitherto; distinguishedfrom the Plain chiefly by its superior barrenness, its baldness of look:at the utmost it may, to the most observant, perceptibly smoke. For asyet all lies so solid, peaceable; and doubts not, as was said, thatit will endure while Time runs. Do not all love Liberty and theConstitution? All heartily;--and yet with degrees. Some, as ChevalierJaucourt and his Right Side, may love Liberty less than Royalty, werethe trial made; others, as Brissot and his Left Side, may love it morethan Royalty. Nay again of these latter some may love Liberty more thanLaw itself; others not more. Parties will unfold themselves; no mortalas yet knows how. Forces work within these men and without: dissidencegrows opposition; ever widening; waxing into incompatibility andinternecine feud: till the strong is abolished by a stronger; himself inhis turn by a strongest! Who can help it? Jaucourt and his Monarchists, Feuillans, or Moderates; Brissot and his Brissotins, Jacobins, orGirondins; these, with the Cordelier Trio, and all men, must work whatis appointed them, and in the way appointed them. And to think what fate these poor Seven Hundred and Forty-five areassembled, most unwittingly, to meet! Let no heart be so hard as not topity them. Their soul's wish was to live and work as the First of theFrench Parliaments: and make the Constitution march. Did they not, attheir very instalment, go through the most affecting Constitutionalceremony, almost with tears? The Twelve Eldest are sent solemnly tofetch the Constitution itself, the printed book of the Law. ArchivistCamus, an Old-Constituent appointed Archivist, he and the AncientTwelve, amid blare of military pomp and clangour, enter, bearing thedivine Book: and President and all Legislative Senators, layingtheir hand on the same, successively take the Oath, with cheers andheart-effusion, universal three-times-three. (Moniteur, Seance du 4Octobre 1791. ) In this manner they begin their Session. Unhappy mortals!For, that same day, his Majesty having received their Deputationof welcome, as seemed, rather drily, the Deputation cannot but feelslighted, cannot but lament such slight: and thereupon our cheeringswearing First Parliament sees itself, on the morrow, obliged to explodeinto fierce retaliatory sputter, of anti-royal Enactment as to howthey, for their part, will receive Majesty; and how Majesty shall notbe called Sire any more, except they please: and then, on the followingday, to recal this Enactment of theirs, as too hasty, and a mere sputterthough not unprovoked. An effervescent well-intentioned set of Senators; too combustible, wherecontinual sparks are flying! Their History is a series of sputters andquarrels; true desire to do their function, fatal impossibility todo it. Denunciations, reprimandings of King's Ministers, of traitorssupposed and real; hot rage and fulmination against fulminatingEmigrants; terror of Austrian Kaiser, of 'Austrian Committee' in theTuileries itself: rage and haunting terror, haste and dim desperatebewilderment!--Haste, we say; and yet the Constitution had providedagainst haste. No Bill can be passed till it have been printed, tillit have been thrice read, with intervals of eight days;--'unlessthe Assembly shall beforehand decree that there is urgency. ' Which, accordingly, the Assembly, scrupulous of the Constitution, never omitsto do: Considering this, and also considering that, and then that other, the Assembly decrees always 'qu'il y a urgence;' and thereupon 'theAssembly, having decreed that there is urgence, ' is free to decree--whatindispensable distracted thing seems best to it. Two thousand and odddecrees, as men reckon, within Eleven months! (Montgaillard, iii. 1. 237. ) The haste of the Constituent seemed great; but this istreble-quick. For the time itself is rushing treble-quick; and theyhave to keep pace with that. Unhappy Seven Hundred and Forty-five:true-patriotic, but so combustible; being fired, they must needs flingfire: Senate of touchwood and rockets, in a world of smoke-storm, withsparks wind-driven continually flying! Or think, on the other hand, looking forward some months, of that scenethey call Baiser de Lamourette! The dangers of the country are now grownimminent, immeasurable; National Assembly, hope of France, is dividedagainst itself. In such extreme circumstances, honey-mouthed AbbeLamourette, new Bishop of Lyons, rises, whose name, l'amourette, signifies the sweetheart, or Delilah doxy, --he rises, and, with pathetichonied eloquence, calls on all august Senators to forget mutual griefsand grudges, to swear a new oath, and unite as brothers. Whereupon theyall, with vivats, embrace and swear; Left Side confounding itself withRight; barren Mountain rushing down to fruitful Plain, Pastoret into thearms of Condorcet, injured to the breast of injurer, with tears; and allswearing that whosoever wishes either Feuillant Two-Chamber Monarchyor Extreme-Jacobin Republic, or any thing but the Constitution and thatonly, shall be anathema marantha. (Moniteur, Seance du 6 Juillet 1792. )Touching to behold! For, literally on the morrow morning, they mustagain quarrel, driven by Fate; and their sublime reconcilement is calledderisively Baiser de L'amourette, or Delilah Kiss. Like fated Eteocles-Polynices Brothers, embracing, though in vain;weeping that they must not love, that they must hate only, and die byeach other's hands! Or say, like doomed Familiar Spirits; ordered, byArt Magic under penalties, to do a harder than twist ropes of sand: 'tomake the Constitution march. ' If the Constitution would but march! Alas, the Constitution will not stir. It falls on its face; they tremblinglylift it on end again: march, thou gold Constitution! The Constitutionwill not march. --"He shall march, by--!" said kind Uncle Toby, and evenswore. The Corporal answered mournfully: "He will never march in thisworld. " A constitution, as we often say, will march when it images, if not theold Habits and Beliefs of the Constituted; then accurately their Rights, or better indeed, their Mights;--for these two, well-understood, arethey not one and the same? The old Habits of France are gone: her newRights and Mights are not yet ascertained, except in Paper-theorem;nor can be, in any sort, till she have tried. Till she have measuredherself, in fell death-grip, and were it in utmost preternatural spasmof madness, with Principalities and Powers, with the upper and theunder, internal and external; with the Earth and Tophet and the veryHeaven! Then will she know. --Three things bode ill for the marching ofthis French Constitution: the French People; the French King; thirdlythe French Noblesse and an assembled European World. Chapter 2. 5. III. Avignon. But quitting generalities, what strange Fact is this, in the farSouth-West, towards which the eyes of all men do now, in the end ofOctober, bend themselves? A tragical combustion, long smoking andsmouldering unluminous, has now burst into flame there. Hot is that Southern Provencal blood: alas, collisions, as was oncesaid, must occur in a career of Freedom; different directions willproduce such; nay different velocities in the same direction will! Tomuch that went on there History, busied elsewhere, would not speciallygive heed: to troubles of Uzez, troubles of Nismes, Protestant andCatholic, Patriot and Aristocrat; to troubles of Marseilles, Montpelier, Arles; to Aristocrat Camp of Jales, that wondrous real-imaginary Entity, now fading pale-dim, then always again glowing forth deep-hued (in theImagination mainly);--ominous magical, 'an Aristocrat picture of wardone naturally!' All this was a tragical deadly combustion, withplot and riot, tumult by night and by day; but a dark combustion, notluminous, not noticed; which now, however, one cannot help noticing. Above all places, the unluminous combustion in Avignon and the ComtatVenaissin was fierce. Papal Avignon, with its Castle rising sheerover the Rhone-stream; beautifullest Town, with its purple vinesand gold-orange groves: why must foolish old rhyming Rene, the lastSovereign of Provence, bequeath it to the Pope and Gold Tiara, notrather to Louis Eleventh with the Leaden Virgin in his hatband? For goodand for evil! Popes, Anti-popes, with their pomp, have dwelt in thatCastle of Avignon rising sheer over the Rhone-stream: there Laurade Sade went to hear mass; her Petrarch twanging and singing by theFountain of Vaucluse hard by, surely in a most melancholy manner. Thiswas in the old days. And now in these new days, such issues do come from a squirt of the penby some foolish rhyming Rene, after centuries, this is what we have:Jourdan Coupe-tete, leading to siege and warfare an Army, from threeto fifteen thousand strong, called the Brigands of Avignon; which titlethey themselves accept, with the addition of an epithet, 'The braveBrigands of Avignon!' It is even so. Jourdan the Headsman fled hitherfrom that Chatelet Inquest, from that Insurrection of Women; and begandealing in madder; but the scene was rife in other than dye-stuffs; soJourdan shut his madder shop, and has risen, for he was the man to doit. The tile-beard of Jourdan is shaven off; his fat visage has gotcoppered and studded with black carbuncles; the Silenus trunk isswollen with drink and high living: he wears blue National uniform withepaulettes, 'an enormous sabre, two horse-pistols crossed in his belt, and other two smaller, sticking from his pockets;' styles himselfGeneral, and is the tyrant of men. (Dampmartin, Evenemens, i. 267. )Consider this one fact, O Reader; and what sort of facts must havepreceded it, must accompany it! Such things come of old Rene; and of thequestion which has risen, Whether Avignon cannot now cease wholly to bePapal and become French and free? For some twenty-five months the confusion has lasted. Say three monthsof arguing; then seven of raging; then finally some fifteen months nowof fighting, and even of hanging. For already in February 1790, thePapal Aristocrats had set up four gibbets, for a sign; but the Peoplerose in June, in retributive frenzy; and, forcing the public Hangman toact, hanged four Aristocrats, on each Papal gibbet a Papal Haman. Thenwere Avignon Emigrations, Papal Aristocrats emigrating over the RhoneRiver; demission of Papal Consul, flight, victory: re-entrance ofPapal Legate, truce, and new onslaught; and the various turns of war. Petitions there were to National Assembly; Congresses of Townships;three-score and odd Townships voting for French Reunion, and theblessings of Liberty; while some twelve of the smaller, manipulated byAristocrats, gave vote the other way: with shrieks and discord! Townshipagainst Township, Town against Town: Carpentras, long jealous ofAvignon, is now turned out in open war with it;--and Jourdan Coupe-tete, your first General being killed in mutiny, closes his dye-shop; and doesthere visibly, with siege-artillery, above all with bluster and tumult, with the 'brave Brigands of Avignon, ' beleaguer the rival Town, for twomonths, in the face of the world! Feats were done, doubt it not, far-famed in Parish History; but toUniversal History unknown. Gibbets we see rise, on the one side and onthe other; and wretched carcasses swinging there, a dozen in the row;wretched Mayor of Vaison buried before dead. (Barbaroux, Memoires, p. 26. ) The fruitful seedfield, lie unreaped, the vineyards trampled down;there is red cruelty, madness of universal choler and gall. Havoc andanarchy everywhere; a combustion most fierce, but unlucent, not to benoticed here!--Finally, as we saw, on the 14th of September last, theNational Constituent Assembly, having sent Commissioners and heard them;(Lescene Desmaisons: Compte rendu a l'Assemblee Nationale, 10 Septembre1791 (Choix des Rapports, vii. 273-93). ) having heard Petitions, heldDebates, month after month ever since August 1789; and on the whole'spent thirty sittings' on this matter, did solemnly decree that Avignonand the Comtat were incorporated with France, and His Holiness the Popeshould have what indemnity was reasonable. And so hereby all is amnestied and finished? Alas, when madness ofcholer has gone through the blood of men, and gibbets have swung on thisside and on that, what will a parchment Decree and Lafayette Amnesty do?Oblivious Lethe flows not above ground! Papal Aristocrats and PatriotBrigands are still an eye-sorrow to each other; suspected, suspicious, in what they do and forbear. The august Constituent Assembly is gone buta fortnight, when, on Sunday the Sixteenth morning of October 1791, theunquenched combustion suddenly becomes luminous! For Anti-constitutionalPlacards are up, and the Statue of the Virgin is said to have shedtears, and grown red. (Proces-verbal de la Commune d'Avignon, &c. InHist. Parl. Xii. 419-23. ) Wherefore, on that morning, Patriot l'Escuyer, one of our 'six leading Patriots, ' having taken counsel with hisbrethren and General Jourdan, determines on going to Church, in companywith a friend or two: not to hear mass, which he values little; but tomeet all the Papalists there in a body, nay to meet that same weepingVirgin, for it is the Cordeliers Church; and give them a word ofadmonition. Adventurous errand; which has the fatallest issue! WhatL'Escuyer's word of admonition might be no History records; but theanswer to it was a shrieking howl from the Aristocrat Papal worshippers, many of them women. A thousand-voiced shriek and menace; which asL'Escuyer did not fly, became a thousand-handed hustle and jostle; athousand-footed kick, with tumblings and tramplings, with the prickingof semstresses stilettos, scissors, and female pointed instruments. Horrible to behold; the ancient Dead, and Petrarchan Laura, sleepinground it there; (Ugo Foscolo, Essay on Petrarch, p. 35. ) high Altar andburning tapers looking down on it; the Virgin quite tearless, and of thenatural stone-colour!--L'Escuyer's friend or two rush off, like Job'sMessengers, for Jourdan and the National Force. But heavy Jourdan willseize the Town-Gates first; does not run treble-fast, as he might:on arriving at the Cordeliers Church, the Church is silent, vacant;L'Escuyer, all alone, lies there, swimming in his blood, at the foot ofthe high Altar; pricked with scissors; trodden, massacred;--gives onedumb sob, and gasps out his miserable life for evermore. Sight to stir the heart of any man; much more of many men, self-styledBrigands of Avignon! The corpse of L'Escuyer, stretched on a bier, the ghastly head girt with laurel, is borne through the streets; withmany-voiced unmelodious Nenia; funeral-wail still deeper than it isloud! The copper-face of Jourdan, of bereft Patriotism, has grown black. Patriot Municipality despatches official Narrative and tidings to Paris;orders numerous or innumerable arrestments for inquest and perquisition. Aristocrats male and female are haled to the Castle; lie crowded insubterranean dungeons there, bemoaned by the hoarse rushing of theRhone; cut out from help. So lie they; waiting inquest and perquisition. Alas! with a JourdanHeadsman for Generalissimo, with his copper-face grown black, and armedBrigand Patriots chanting their Nenia, the inquest is likely to bebrief. On the next day and the next, let Municipality consent or not, aBrigand Court-Martial establishes itself in the subterranean stories ofthe Castle of Avignon; Brigand Executioners, with naked sabre, waitingat the door, for a Brigand verdict. Short judgment, no appeal! There isBrigand wrath and vengeance; not unrefreshed by brandy. Close by is theDungeon of the Glaciere, or Ice-Tower: there may be deeds done--? Forwhich language has no name!--Darkness and the shadow of horrid crueltyenvelopes these Castle Dungeons, that Glaciere Tower: clear only thatmany have entered, that few have returned. Jourdan and the Brigands, supreme now over Municipals, over all Authorities Patriot or Papal, reign in Avignon, waited on by Terror and Silence. The result of all which is that, on the 15th of November 1791, we beholdFriend Dampmartin, and subalterns beneath him, and General Choisi abovehim, with Infantry and Cavalry, and proper cannon-carriages rattling infront, with spread banners, to the sound of fife and drum, wend, in adeliberate formidable manner, towards that sheer Castle Rock, towardsthose broad Gates of Avignon; three new National-Assembly Commissionersfollowing at safe distance in the rear. (Dampmartin, i. 251-94. )Avignon, summoned in the name of Assembly and Law, flings its Gates wideopen; Choisi with the rest, Dampmartin and the Bons Enfans, 'Good Boysof Baufremont, ' so they name these brave Constitutional Dragoons, knownto them of old, --do enter, amid shouts and scattered flowers. To the joyof all honest persons; to the terror only of Jourdan Headsman and theBrigands. Nay next we behold carbuncled swollen Jourdan himself shewcopper-face, with sabre and four pistols; affecting to talk high:engaging, meanwhile, to surrender the Castle that instant. So the ChoisiGrenadiers enter with him there. They start and stop, passing thatGlaciere, snuffing its horrible breath; with wild yell, with cries of"Cut the Butcher down!"--and Jourdan has to whisk himself through secretpassages, and instantaneously vanish. Be the mystery of iniquity laid bare then! A Hundred and Thirty Corpses, of men, nay of women and even children (for the trembling mother, hastily seized, could not leave her infant), lie heaped in thatGlaciere; putrid, under putridities: the horror of the world. For threedays there is mournful lifting out, and recognition; amid the cries andmovements of a passionate Southern people, now kneeling in prayer, nowstorming in wild pity and rage: lastly there is solemn sepulture, withmuffled drums, religious requiem, and all the people's wail and tears. Their Massacred rest now in holy ground; buried in one grave. And Jourdan Coupe-tete? Him also we behold again, after a day or two:in flight, through the most romantic Petrarchan hill-country; vehementlyspurring his nag; young Ligonnet, a brisk youth of Avignon, with ChoisiDragoons, close in his rear! With such swollen mass of a rider no nagcan run to advantage. The tired nag, spur-driven, does take the RiverSorgue; but sticks in the middle of it; firm on that chiaro fondo diSorga; and will proceed no further for spurring! Young Ligonnet dashesup; the Copper-face menaces and bellows, draws pistol, perhaps evensnaps it; is nevertheless seized by the collar; is tied firm, anclesunder horse's belly, and ridden back to Avignon, hardly to be saved frommassacre on the streets there. (Dampmartin, ubi supra. ) Such is the combustion of Avignon and the South-West, when it becomesluminous! Long loud debate is in the august Legislative, in theMother-Society as to what now shall be done with it. Amnesty, cryeloquent Vergniaud and all Patriots: let there be mutual pardon andrepentance, restoration, pacification, and if so might any how be, anend! Which vote ultimately prevails. So the South-West smoulders andwelters again in an 'Amnesty, ' or Non-remembrance, which alas cannotbut remember, no Lethe flowing above ground! Jourdan himself remainsunchanged; gets loose again as one not yet gallows-ripe; nay, as wetransciently discern from the distance, is 'carried in triumph throughthe cities of the South. ' (Deux Amis vii. (Paris, 1797), pp. 59-71. )What things men carry! With which transient glimpse, of a Copper-faced Portent faring in thismanner through the cities of the South, we must quit these regions;--andlet them smoulder. They want not their Aristocrats; proud old Nobles, not yet emigrated. Arles has its 'Chiffonne, ' so, in symbolical cant, they name that Aristocrat Secret-Association; Arles has its pavementspiled up, by and by, into Aristocrat barricades. Against which Rebecqui, the hot-clear Patriot, must lead Marseilles with cannon. The Bar ofIron has not yet risen to the top in the Bay of Marseilles; neitherhave these hot Sons of the Phoceans submitted to be slaves. By clearmanagement and hot instance, Rebecqui dissipates that Chiffonne, withoutbloodshed; restores the pavement of Arles. He sails in Coast-barks, thisRebecqui, scrutinising suspicious Martello-towers, with the keen eye ofPatriotism; marches overland with despatch, singly, or in force; to Cityafter City; dim scouring far and wide; (Barbaroux, p. 21; Hist. Parl. Xiii. 421-4. )--argues, and if it must be, fights. For there is muchto do; Jales itself is looking suspicious. So that Legislator Fauchet, after debate on it, has to propose Commissioners and a Camp on the Plainof Beaucaire: with or without result. Of all which, and much else, let us note only this small consequence, that young Barbaroux, Advocate, Town-Clerk of Marseilles, being chargedto have these things remedied, arrived at Paris in the month of February1792. The beautiful and brave: young Spartan, ripe in energy, not ripein wisdom; over whose black doom there shall flit nevertheless a certainruddy fervour, streaks of bright Southern tint, not wholly swallowed ofDeath! Note also that the Rolands of Lyons are again in Paris; for thesecond and final time. King's Inspectorship is abrogated at Lyons, aselsewhere: Roland has his retiring-pension to claim, if attainable; hasPatriot friends to commune with; at lowest, has a book to publish. Thatyoung Barbaroux and the Rolands came together; that elderly SpartanRoland liked, or even loved the young Spartan, and was loved by him, onecan fancy: and Madame--? Breathe not, thou poison-breath, Evil-speech!That soul is taintless, clear, as the mirror-sea. And yet if they toodid look into each other's eyes, and each, in silence, in tragicalrenunciance, did find that the other was all too lovely? Honi soit!She calls him 'beautiful as Antinous:' he 'will speak elsewhere of thatastonishing woman. '--A Madame d'Udon (or some such name, for Dumont doesnot recollect quite clearly) gives copious Breakfast to the BrissotinDeputies and us Friends of Freedom, at her house in the Place Vendome;with temporary celebrity, with graces and wreathed smiles; not withoutcost. There, amid wide babble and jingle, our plan of Legislative Debateis settled for the day, and much counselling held. Strict Roland is seenthere, but does not go often. (Dumont, Souvenirs, p. 374. ) Chapter 2. 5. IV. No Sugar. Such are our inward troubles; seen in the Cities of the South; extant, seen or unseen, in all cities and districts, North as well as South. Forin all are Aristocrats, more or less malignant; watched by Patriotism;which again, being of various shades, from light Fayettist-Feuillantdown to deep-sombre Jacobin, has to watch itself! Directories of Departments, what we call County Magistracies, beingchosen by Citizens of a too 'active' class, are found to pull one way;Municipalities, Town Magistracies, to pull the other way. In all placestoo are Dissident Priests; whom the Legislative will have to dealwith: contumacious individuals, working on that angriest of passions;plotting, enlisting for Coblentz; or suspected of plotting: fuel ofa universal unconstitutional heat. What to do with them? They may beconscientious as well as contumacious: gently they should be dealt with, and yet it must be speedily. In unilluminated La Vendee the simple arelike to be seduced by them; many a simple peasant, a Cathelineau thewool-dealer wayfaring meditative with his wool-packs, in these hamlets, dubiously shakes his head! Two Assembly Commissioners went thither lastAutumn; considerate Gensonne, not yet called to be a Senator; Gallois, an editorial man. These Two, consulting with General Dumouriez, spakeand worked, softly, with judgment; they have hushed down the irritation, and produced a soft Report, --for the time. The General himself doubts not in the least but he can keep peace there;being an able man. He passes these frosty months among the pleasantpeople of Niort, occupies 'tolerably handsome apartments in the Castleof Niort, ' and tempers the minds of men. (Dumouriez, ii. 129. ) Why isthere but one Dumouriez? Elsewhere you find South or North, nothing butuntempered obscure jarring; which breaks forth ever and anon into openclangour of riot. Southern Perpignan has its tocsin, by torch light;with rushing and onslaught: Northern Caen not less, by daylight; withAristocrats ranged in arms at Places of Worship; Departmental compromiseproving impossible; breaking into musketry and a Plot discovered! (Hist. Parl. Xii. 131, 141; xiii. 114, 417. ) Add Hunger too: for Bread, alwaysdear, is getting dearer: not so much as Sugar can be had; for goodreasons. Poor Simoneau, Mayor of Etampes, in this Northern region, hanging out his Red Flag in some riot of grains, is trampled to death bya hungry exasperated People. What a trade this of Mayor, in these times!Mayor of Saint-Denis hung at the Lanterne, by Suspicion and Dyspepsia, as we saw long since; Mayor of Vaison, as we saw lately, buried beforedead; and now this poor Simoneau, the Tanner, of Etampes, --whom legalConstitutionalism will not forget. With factions, suspicions, want of bread and sugar, it is verily whatthey call dechire, torn asunder this poor country: France and all thatis French. For, over seas too come bad news. In black Saint-Domingo, before that variegated Glitter in the Champs Elysees was lit for anAccepted Constitution, there had risen, and was burning contemporarywith it, quite another variegated Glitter and nocturnal Fulgor, hadwe known it: of molasses and ardent-spirits; of sugar-boileries, plantations, furniture, cattle and men: skyhigh; the Plain of CapFrancais one huge whirl of smoke and flame! What a change here, in these two years; since that first 'Box ofTricolor Cockades' got through the Custom-house, and atrabiliar Creolestoo rejoiced that there was a levelling of Bastilles! Levelling iscomfortable, as we often say: levelling, yet only down to oneself. Yourpale-white Creoles, have their grievances:--and your yellow Quarteroons?And your dark-yellow Mulattoes? And your Slaves soot-black? QuarteroonOge, Friend of our Parisian Brissotin Friends of the Blacks, felt, forhis share too, that Insurrection was the most sacred of duties. So thetricolor Cockades had fluttered and swashed only some three months onthe Creole hat, when Oge's signal-conflagrations went aloft; with thevoice of rage and terror. Repressed, doomed to die, he took black powderor seedgrains in the hollow of his hand, this Oge; sprinkled a filmof white ones on the top, and said to his Judges, "Behold they arewhite;"--then shook his hand, and said "Where are the Whites, Ou sontles Blancs?" So now, in the Autumn of 1791, looking from the sky-windows of CapFrancais, thick clouds of smoke girdle our horizon, smoke in the day, in the night fire; preceded by fugitive shrieking white women, by Terrorand Rumour. Black demonised squadrons are massacring and harrying, with nameless cruelty. They fight and fire 'from behind thickets andcoverts, ' for the Black man loves the Bush; they rush to the attack, thousands strong, with brandished cutlasses and fusils, with caperings, shoutings and vociferation, --which, if the White Volunteer Companystands firm, dwindle into staggerings, into quick gabblement, into panicflight at the first volley, perhaps before it. (Deux Amis, x. 157. ) PoorOge could be broken on the wheel; this fire-whirlwind too can be abated, driven up into the Mountains: but Saint-Domingo is shaken, as Oge'sseedgrains were; shaking, writhing in long horrid death-throes, it isBlack without remedy; and remains, as African Haiti, a monition to theworld. O my Parisian Friends, is not this, as well as Regraters and FeuillantPlotters, one cause of the astonishing dearth of Sugar! The Grocer, palpitant, with drooping lip, sees his Sugar taxe; weighed out by FemalePatriotism, in instant retail, at the inadequate rate of twenty-fivesous, or thirteen pence a pound. "Abstain from it?" yes, ye PatriotSections, all ye Jacobins, abstain! Louvet and Collot-d'Herbois soadvise; resolute to make the sacrifice: though "how shall literary mendo without coffee?" Abstain, with an oath; that is the surest! (Debatsdes Jacobins, &c. Hist. Parl. Xiii. 171, 92-98. ) Also, for like reason, must not Brest and the Shipping Interestlanguish? Poor Brest languishes, sorrowing, not without spleen;denounces an Aristocrat Bertrand-Moleville traitorous AristocratMarine-Minister. Do not her Ships and King's Ships lie rotting piecemealin harbour; Naval Officers mostly fled, and on furlough too, with pay?Little stirring there; if it be not the Brest Gallies, whip-driven, with their Galley-Slaves, --alas, with some Forty of our hapless SwissSoldiers of Chateau-Vieux, among others! These Forty Swiss, too mindfulof Nanci, do now, in their red wool caps, tug sorrowfully at the oar;looking into the Atlantic brine, which reflects only their own sorrowfulshaggy faces; and seem forgotten of Hope. But, on the whole, may we not say, in fugitive language, that the FrenchConstitution which shall march is very rheumatic, full of shootinginternal pains, in joint and muscle; and will not march withoutdifficulty? Chapter 2. 5. V. Kings and Emigrants. Extremely rheumatic Constitutions have been known to march, and keep ontheir feet, though in a staggering sprawling manner, for long periods, in virtue of one thing only: that the Head were healthy. But this Headof the French Constitution! What King Louis is and cannot help being, Readers already know. A King who cannot take the Constitution, norreject the Constitution: nor do anything at all, but miserably ask, Whatshall I do? A King environed with endless confusions; in whose own mindis no germ of order. Haughty implacable remnants of Noblesse strugglingwith humiliated repentant Barnave-Lameths: struggling in that obscureelement of fetchers and carriers, of Half-pay braggarts from the CafeValois, of Chambermaids, whisperers, and subaltern officious persons;fierce Patriotism looking on all the while, more and more suspicious, from without: what, in such struggle, can they do? At best, cancelone another, and produce zero. Poor King! Barnave and your SenatorialJaucourts speak earnestly into this ear; Bertrand-Moleville, andMessengers from Coblentz, speak earnestly into that: the poor Royal headturns to the one side and to the other side; can turn itself fixedlyto no side. Let Decency drop a veil over it: sorrier misery was seldomenacted in the world. This one small fact, does it not throw the saddestlight on much? The Queen is lamenting to Madam Campan: "What am I to do?When they, these Barnaves, get us advised to any step which the Noblessedo not like, then I am pouted at; nobody comes to my card table; theKing's Couchee is solitary. " (Campan, ii. 177-202. ) In such a case ofdubiety, what is one to do? Go inevitably to the ground! The King has accepted this Constitution, knowing beforehand that it willnot serve: he studies it, and executes it in the hope mainly that itwill be found inexecutable. King's Ships lie rotting in harbour, theirofficers gone; the Armies disorganised; robbers scour the highways, which wear down unrepaired; all Public Service lies slack and waste: theExecutive makes no effort, or an effort only to throw the blame on theConstitution. Shamming death, 'faisant le mort!' What Constitution, use it in this manner, can march? 'Grow to disgust the Nation' it willtruly, (Bertrand-Moleville, i. C. 4. )--unless you first grow to disgustthe Nation! It is Bertrand de Moleville's plan, and his Majesty's; thebest they can form. Or if, after all, this best-plan proved too slow; proved a failure?Provident of that too, the Queen, shrouded in deepest mystery, 'writesall day, in cipher, day after day, to Coblentz;' Engineer Goguelat, heof the Night of Spurs, whom the Lafayette Amnesty has delivered fromPrison, rides and runs. Now and then, on fit occasion, a Royal familiarvisit can be paid to that Salle de Manege, an affecting encouragingRoyal Speech (sincere, doubt it not, for the moment) can be deliveredthere, and the Senators all cheer and almost weep;--at the same timeMallet du Pan has visibly ceased editing, and invisibly bears abroada King's Autograph, soliciting help from the Foreign Potentates. (Moleville, i. 370. ) Unhappy Louis, do this thing or else thatother, --if thou couldst! The thing which the King's Government did do was to stagger distractedlyfrom contradiction to contradiction; and wedding Fire to Water, envelopeitself in hissing, and ashy steam! Danton and needy corruptible Patriotsare sopped with presents of cash: they accept the sop: they riserefreshed by it, and travel their own way. (Ibid. I. C. 17. ) Nay, theKing's Government did likewise hire Hand-clappers, or claqueurs, personsto applaud. Subterranean Rivarol has Fifteen Hundred men in King's pay, at the rate of some ten thousand pounds sterling, per month; what hecalls 'a staff of genius:' Paragraph-writers, Placard-Journalists; 'twohundred and eighty Applauders, at three shillings a day:' one ofthe strangest Staffs ever commanded by man. The muster-rollsand account-books of which still exist. (Montgaillard, iii. 41. )Bertrand-Moleville himself, in a way he thinks very dexterous, contrivesto pack the Galleries of the Legislative; gets Sansculottes hired to gothither, and applaud at a signal given, they fancying it was Petion thatbid them: a device which was not detected for almost a week. Dexterousenough; as if a man finding the Day fast decline should determine onaltering the Clockhands: that is a thing possible for him. Here too let us note an unexpected apparition of Philippe d'Orleans atCourt: his last at the Levee of any King. D'Orleans, sometime in thewinter months seemingly, has been appointed to that old first-covetedrank of Admiral, --though only over ships rotting in port. The wished-forcomes too late! However, he waits on Bertrand-Moleville to give thanks:nay to state that he would willingly thank his Majesty in person; that, in spite of all the horrible things men have said and sung, he is farfrom being his Majesty's enemy; at bottom, how far! Bertrand deliversthe message, brings about the royal Interview, which does pass tothe satisfaction of his Majesty; d'Orleans seeming clearly repentant, determined to turn over a new leaf. And yet, next Sunday, what do wesee? 'Next Sunday, ' says Bertrand, 'he came to the King's Levee; but theCourtiers ignorant of what had passed, the crowd of Royalists who wereaccustomed to resort thither on that day specially to pay their court, gave him the most humiliating reception. They came pressing round him;managing, as if by mistake, to tread on his toes, to elbow him towardsthe door, and not let him enter again. He went downstairs to herMajesty's Apartments, where cover was laid; so soon as he shewed face, sounds rose on all sides, "Messieurs, take care of the dishes, " as if hehad carried poison in his pockets. The insults which his presence everywhere excited forced him to retire without having seen the Royal Family:the crowd followed him to the Queen's Staircase; in descending, hereceived a spitting (crachat) on the head, and some others, on hisclothes. Rage and spite were seen visibly painted on his face:'(Bertrand-Moleville, i. 177. ) as indeed how could they miss to be? Heimputes it all to the King and Queen, who know nothing of it, who areeven much grieved at it; and so descends, to his Chaos again. Bertrandwas there at the Chateau that day himself, and an eye-witness to thesethings. For the rest, Non-jurant Priests, and the repression of them, willdistract the King's conscience; Emigrant Princes and Noblesse will forcehim to double-dealing: there must be veto on veto; amid the ever-waxingindignation of men. For Patriotism, as we said, looks on from without, more and more suspicious. Waxing tempest, blast after blast, of Patriotindignation, from without; dim inorganic whirl of Intrigues, Fatuities, within! Inorganic, fatuous; from which the eye turns away. De Staelintrigues for her so gallant Narbonne, to get him made War-Minister;and ceases not, having got him made. The King shall fly to Rouen; shallthere, with the gallant Narbonne, properly 'modify the Constitution. 'This is the same brisk Narbonne, who, last year, cut out from theirentanglement, by force of dragoons, those poor fugitive Royal Aunts:men say he is at bottom their Brother, or even more, so scandalous isscandal. He drives now, with his de Stael, rapidly to the Armies, tothe Frontier Towns; produces rose-coloured Reports, not too credible;perorates, gesticulates; wavers poising himself on the top, for amoment, seen of men; then tumbles, dismissed, washed away by theTime-flood. Also the fair Princess de Lamballe intrigues, bosom friend of herMajesty: to the angering of Patriotism. Beautiful Unfortunate, why didshe ever return from England? Her small silver-voice, what can it profitin that piping of the black World-tornado? Which will whirl her, poorfragile Bird of Paradise, against grim rocks. Lamballe and de Staelintrigue visibly, apart or together: but who shall reckon how manyothers, and in what infinite ways, invisibly! Is there not what one maycall an 'Austrian Committee, ' sitting invisible in the Tuileries; centreof an invisible Anti-National Spiderweb, which, for we sleep amongmysteries, stretches its threads to the ends of the Earth? JournalistCarra has now the clearest certainty of it: to Brissotin Patriotism, andFrance generally, it is growing more and more probable. O Reader, hast thou no pity for this Constitution? Rheumatic shootingpains in its members; pressure of hydrocephale and hysteric vapourson its Brain: a Constitution divided against itself; which will nevermarch, hardly even stagger? Why were not Drouet and Procureur Sausse intheir beds, that unblessed Varennes Night! Why did they not, in thename of Heaven, let the Korff Berline go whither it listed! Namelessincoherency, incompatibility, perhaps prodigies at which the world stillshudders, had been spared. But now comes the third thing that bodes ill for the marching of thisFrench Constitution: besides the French People, and the French King, there is thirdly--the assembled European world? it has become necessarynow to look at that also. Fair France is so luminous: and round andround it, is troublous Cimmerian Night. Calonnes, Breteuils hover dim, far-flown; overnetting Europe with intrigues. From Turin to Vienna;to Berlin, and utmost Petersburg in the frozen North! Great Burke hasraised his great voice long ago; eloquently demonstrating that the endof an Epoch is come, to all appearance the end of Civilised Time. Himmany answer: Camille Desmoulins, Clootz Speaker of Mankind, Paine therebellious Needleman, and honourable Gallic Vindicators in that countryand in this: but the great Burke remains unanswerable; 'The Age ofChivalry is gone, ' and could not but go, having now produced the stillmore indomitable Age of Hunger. Altars enough, of the Dubois-Rohansort, changing to the Gobel-and-Talleyrand sort, are faring by rapidtransmutation to, shall we say, the right Proprietor of them? FrenchGame and French Game-Preservers did alight on the Cliffs of Dover, withcries of distress. Who will say that the end of much is not come? Aset of mortals has risen, who believe that Truth is not a printedSpeculation, but a practical Fact; that Freedom and Brotherhood arepossible in this Earth, supposed always to be Belial's, which 'theSupreme Quack' was to inherit! Who will say that Church, State, Throne, Altar are not in danger; that the sacred Strong-box itself, lastPalladium of effete Humanity, may not be blasphemously blown upon, andits padlocks undone? The poor Constituent Assembly might act with what delicacy and diplomacyit would; declare that it abjured meddling with its neighbours, foreign conquest, and so forth; but from the first this thing was to bepredicted: that old Europe and new France could not subsist together. A Glorious Revolution, oversetting State-Prisons and Feudalism;publishing, with outburst of Federative Cannon, in face of all theEarth, that Appearance is not Reality, how shall it subsist amidGovernments which, if Appearance is not Reality, are--one knows notwhat? In death feud, and internecine wrestle and battle, it shallsubsist with them; not otherwise. Rights of Man, printed on Cotton Handkerchiefs, in various dialects ofhuman speech, pass over to the Frankfort Fair. (Toulongeon, i. 256. )What say we, Frankfort Fair? They have crossed Euphrates and thefabulous Hydaspes; wafted themselves beyond the Ural, Altai, Himmalayah:struck off from wood stereotypes, in angular Picture-writing, theyare jabbered and jingled of in China and Japan. Where will it stop?Kien-Lung smells mischief; not the remotest Dalai-Lama shall now kneadhis dough-pills in peace. --Hateful to us; as is the Night! Bestiryourselves, ye Defenders of Order! They do bestir themselves: all Kingsand Kinglets, with their spiritual temporal array, are astir; theirbrows clouded with menace. Diplomatic emissaries fly swift; Conventions, privy Conclaves assemble; and wise wigs wag, taking what counsel theycan. Also, as we said, the Pamphleteer draws pen, on this side and that:zealous fists beat the Pulpit-drum. Not without issue! Did not ironBirmingham, shouting 'Church and King, ' itself knew not why, burst out, last July, into rage, drunkenness, and fire; and your Priestleys, andthe like, dining there on that Bastille day, get the maddest singeing:scandalous to consider! In which same days, as we can remark, highPotentates, Austrian and Prussian, with Emigrants, were faring towardsPilnitz in Saxony; there, on the 27th of August, they, keeping tothemselves what further 'secret Treaty' there might or might not be, didpublish their hopes and their threatenings, their Declaration that itwas 'the common cause of Kings. ' Where a will to quarrel is, there is a way. Our readers remember thatPentecost-Night, Fourth of August 1789, when Feudalism fell in a fewhours? The National Assembly, in abolishing Feudalism, promisedthat 'compensation' should be given; and did endeavour to give it. Nevertheless the Austrian Kaiser answers that his German Princes, fortheir part, cannot be unfeudalised; that they have Possessions in FrenchAlsace, and Feudal Rights secured to them, for which no conceivablecompensation will suffice. So this of the Possessioned Princes, 'PrincesPossessiones' is bandied from Court to Court; covers acres of diplomaticpaper at this day: a weariness to the world. Kaunitz argues from Vienna;Delessart responds from Paris, though perhaps not sharply enough. TheKaiser and his Possessioned Princes will too evidently come and takecompensation--so much as they can get. Nay might one not partitionFrance, as we have done Poland, and are doing; and so pacify it with avengeance? From South to North! For actually it is 'the common cause of Kings. 'Swedish Gustav, sworn Knight of the Queen of France, will lead CoalisedArmies;--had not Ankarstrom treasonously shot him; for, indeed, therewere griefs nearer home. (30th March 1792 Annual Register, p. 11). Austria and Prussia speak at Pilnitz; all men intensely listening:Imperial Rescripts have gone out from Turin; there will be secretConvention at Vienna. Catherine of Russia beckons approvingly; willhelp, were she ready. Spanish Bourbon stirs amid his pillows; from himtoo, even from him, shall there come help. Lean Pitt, 'the Minister ofPreparatives, ' looks out from his watch-tower in Saint-James's, in asuspicious manner. Councillors plotting, Calonnes dim-hovering;--alas, Serjeants rub-a-dubbing openly through all manner of Germanmarket-towns, collecting ragged valour! (Toulongeon, ii. 100-117. ) Lookwhere you will, immeasurable Obscurantism is girdling this fair France;which, again, will not be girdled by it. Europe is in travail; pangafter pang; what a shriek was that of Pilnitz! The birth will be: WAR. Nay the worst feature of the business is this last, still to be named;the Emigrants at Coblentz, so many thousands ranking there, in bitterhate and menace: King's Brothers, all Princes of the Blood except wickedd'Orleans; your duelling de Castries, your eloquent Cazales; bull-headedMalseignes, a wargod Broglie; Distaff Seigneurs, insulted Officers, allthat have ridden across the Rhine-stream;--d'Artois welcoming AbbeMaury with a kiss, and clasping him publicly to his own royal heart!Emigration, flowing over the Frontiers, now in drops, now in streams, invarious humours of fear, of petulance, rage and hope, ever since thosefirst Bastille days when d'Artois went, 'to shame the citizens ofParis, '--has swollen to the size of a Phenomenon of the world. Coblentzis become a small extra-national Versailles; a Versailles in partibus:briguing, intriguing, favouritism, strumpetocracy itself, they say, goeson there; all the old activities, on a small scale, quickened by hungryRevenge. Enthusiasm, of loyalty, of hatred and hope, has risen to a high pitch;as, in any Coblentz tavern, you may hear, in speech, and in singing. Maury assists in the interior Council; much is decided on; for onething, they keep lists of the dates of your emigrating; a month sooner, or a month later determines your greater or your less right tothe coming Division of the Spoil. Cazales himself, because he hadoccasionally spoken with a Constitutional tone, was looked on coldly atfirst: so pure are our principles. (Montgaillard, iii. 517; Toulongeon, (ubi supra). ) And arms are a-hammering at Liege; 'three thousandhorses' ambling hitherward from the Fairs of Germany: Cavalry enrolling;likewise Foot-soldiers, 'in blue coat, red waistcoat, and nankeentrousers!' (See Hist. Parl. Xiii. 11-38, 41-61, 358, &c. ) They havetheir secret domestic correspondences, as their open foreign: withdisaffected Crypto-Aristocrats, with contumacious Priests, with AustrianCommittee in the Tuileries. Deserters are spirited over by assiduouscrimps; Royal-Allemand is gone almost wholly. Their route of march, towards France and the Division of the Spoil, is marked out, were theKaiser once ready. "It is said, they mean to poison the sources; but, "adds Patriotism making Report of it, "they will not poison the source ofLiberty, " whereat 'on applaudit, ' we cannot but applaud. Also they havemanufactories of False Assignats; and men that circulate in the interiordistributing and disbursing the same; one of these we denounce now toLegislative Patriotism: 'A man Lebrun by name; about thirty years ofage, with blonde hair and in quantity; has, ' only for the time beingsurely, 'a black-eye, oeil poche; goes in a wiski with a black horse, '(Moniteur, Seance du 2 Novembre 1791 (Hist. Parl. Xii. 212). )--alwayskeeping his Gig! Unhappy Emigrants, it was their lot, and the lot of France! They areignorant of much that they should know: of themselves, of what is aroundthem. A Political Party that knows not when it is beaten, may become oneof the fatallist of things, to itself, and to all. Nothing will convincethese men that they cannot scatter the French Revolution at the firstblast of their war-trumpet; that the French Revolution is other than ablustering Effervescence, of brawlers and spouters, which, at the flashof chivalrous broadswords, at the rustle of gallows-ropes, will burrowitself, in dens the deeper the welcomer. But, alas, what man does knowand measure himself, and the things that are round him;--else wherewere the need of physical fighting at all? Never, till they are cleftasunder, can these heads believe that a Sansculottic arm has any vigourin it: cleft asunder, it will be too late to believe. One may say, without spleen against his poor erring brothers of anyside, that above all other mischiefs, this of the Emigrant Nobles actedfatally on France. Could they have known, could they have understood! Inthe beginning of 1789, a splendour and a terror still surrounded them:the Conflagration of their Chateaus, kindled by months of obstinacy, went out after the Fourth of August; and might have continued out, hadthey at all known what to defend, what to relinquish as indefensible. They were still a graduated Hierarchy of Authorities, or the accreditedSimilitude of such: they sat there, uniting King with Commonalty;transmitting and translating gradually, from degree to degree, thecommand of the one into the obedience of the other; rendering commandand obedience still possible. Had they understood their place, and whatto do in it, this French Revolution, which went forth explosively inyears and in months, might have spread itself over generations; andnot a torture-death but a quiet euthanasia have been provided for manythings. But they were proud and high, these men; they were not wise to consider. They spurned all from them; in disdainful hate, they drew the swordand flung away the scabbard. France has not only no Hierarchy ofAuthorities, to translate command into obedience; its Hierarchy ofAuthorities has fled to the enemies of France; calls loudly on theenemies of France to interfere armed, who want but a pretext to dothat. Jealous Kings and Kaisers might have looked on long, meditatinginterference, yet afraid and ashamed to interfere: but now do not theKing's Brothers, and all French Nobles, Dignitaries and Authorities thatare free to speak, which the King himself is not, --passionately inviteus, in the name of Right and of Might? Ranked at Coblentz, from Fifteento Twenty thousand stand now brandishing their weapons, with the cry:On, on! Yes, Messieurs, you shall on;--and divide the spoil according toyour dates of emigrating. Of all which things a poor Legislative Assembly, and Patriot France, isinformed: by denunciant friend, by triumphant foe. Sulleau's Pamphlets, of the Rivarol Staff of Genius, circulate; heralding supreme hope. Durosoy's Placards tapestry the walls; Chant du Coq crows day, peckedat by Tallien's Ami des Citoyens. King's-Friend, Royou, Ami du Roi, can name, in exact arithmetical ciphers, the contingents of the variousInvading Potentates; in all, Four hundred and nineteen thousand Foreignfighting men, with Fifteen thousand Emigrants. Not to reckon these yourdaily and hourly desertions, which an Editor must daily record, of wholeCompanies, and even Regiments, crying Vive le Roi, vive la Reine, andmarching over with banners spread: (Ami du Roi Newspaper in Hist. Parl. Xiii. 175. )--lies all, and wind; yet to Patriotism not wind; nor, alas, one day, to Royou! Patriotism, therefore, may brawl and babble yet alittle while: but its hours are numbered: Europe is coming with Fourhundred and nineteen thousand and the Chivalry of France; the gallows, one may hope, will get its own. Chapter 2. 5. VI. Brigands and Jales. We shall have War, then; and on what terms! With an Executive'pretending, ' really with less and less deceptiveness now, 'to be dead;'casting even a wishful eye towards the enemy: on such terms we shallhave War. Public Functionary in vigorous action there is none; if it be notRivarol with his Staff of Genius and Two hundred and eighty Applauders. The Public Service lies waste: the very tax-gatherer has forgottenhis cunning: in this and the other Provincial Board of Management(Directoire de Departmente) it is found advisable to retain what Taxesyou can gather, to pay your own inevitable expenditures. Our Revenue isAssignats; emission on emission of Paper-money. And the Army; ourThree grand Armies, of Rochambeau, of Luckner, of Lafayette? Lean, disconsolate hover these Three grand Armies, watching the Frontiersthere; three Flights of long-necked Cranes in moulting time;--wretched, disobedient, disorganised; who never saw fire; the old Generals andOfficers gone across the Rhine. War-minister Narbonne, he of therose-coloured Reports, solicits recruitments, equipments, money, alwaysmoney; threatens, since he can get none, --to 'take his sword, ' whichbelongs to himself, and go serve his country with that. (Moniteur, Seance du 23 Janvier, 1792; Biographie des Ministres para Narbonne. ) The question of questions is: What shall be done? Shall we, with adesperate defiance which Fortune sometimes favours, draw the swordat once, in the face of this in-rushing world of Emigration andObscurantism; or wait, and temporise and diplomatise, till, if possible, our resources mature themselves a little? And yet again are ourresources growing towards maturity; or growing the other way? Dubious:the ablest Patriots are divided; Brissot and his Brissotins, orGirondins, in the Legislative, cry aloud for the former defiant plan;Robespierre, in the Jacobins, pleads as loud for the latter dilatoryone: with responses, even with mutual reprimands; distracting the Motherof Patriotism. Consider also what agitated Breakfasts there may be atMadame d'Udon's in the Place Vendome! The alarm of all men is great. Help, ye Patriots; and O at least agree; for the hour presses. Frost wasnot yet gone, when in that 'tolerably handsome apartment of the Castleof Niort, ' there arrived a Letter: General Dumouriez must to Paris. Itis War-minister Narbonne that writes; the General shall give counselabout many things. (Dumouriez, ii. C. 6. ) In the month of February 1792, Brissotin friends welcome their Dumouriez Polymetis, --comparablereally to an antique Ulysses in modern costume; quick, elastic, shifty, insuppressible, a 'many-counselled man. ' Let the Reader fancy this fair France with a whole Cimmerian Europegirdling her, rolling in on her; black, to burst in red thunder of War;fair France herself hand-shackled and foot-shackled in the welteringcomplexities of this Social Clothing, or Constitution, which they havemade for her; a France that, in such Constitution, cannot march! AndHunger too; and plotting Aristocrats, and excommunicating DissidentPriests: 'The man Lebrun by name' urging his black wiski, visible to theeye: and, still more terrible in his invisibility, Engineer Goguelat, with Queen's cipher, riding and running! The excommunicatory Priests give new trouble in the Maine and Loire; LaVendee, nor Cathelineau the wool-dealer, has not ceased grumblingand rumbling. Nay behold Jales itself once more: how often does thatreal-imaginary Camp of the Fiend require to be extinguished! Fornear two years now, it has waned faint and again waxed bright, in thebewildered soul of Patriotism: actually, if Patriotism knew it, oneof the most surprising products of Nature working with Art. RoyalistSeigneurs, under this or the other pretext, assemble the simple peopleof these Cevennes Mountains; men not unused to revolt, and with heartfor fighting, could their poor heads be got persuaded. The RoyalistSeigneur harangues; harping mainly on the religious string: "TruePriests maltreated, false Priests intruded, Protestants (once dragooned)now triumphing, things sacred given to the dogs;" and so produces, fromthe pious Mountaineer throat, rough growlings. "Shall we not testify, then, ye brave hearts of the Cevennes; march to the rescue? HolyReligion; duty to God and King?" "Si fait, si fait, Just so, just so, "answer the brave hearts always: "Mais il y a de bien bonnes chosesdans la Revolution, But there are many good things in the Revolutiontoo!"--And so the matter, cajole as we may, will only turn on its axis, not stir from the spot, and remains theatrical merely. (Dampmartin, i. 201. ) Nevertheless deepen your cajolery, harp quick and quicker, ye RoyalistSeigneurs; with a dead-lift effort you may bring it to that. Inthe month of June next, this Camp of Jales will step forth as atheatricality suddenly become real; Two thousand strong, and with theboast that it is Seventy thousand: most strange to see; with flagsflying, bayonets fixed; with Proclamation, and d'Artois Commission ofcivil war! Let some Rebecqui, or other the like hot-clear Patriot; letsome 'Lieutenant-Colonel Aubry, ' if Rebecqui is busy elsewhere, raiseinstantaneous National Guards, and disperse and dissolve it; and blowthe Old Castle asunder, (Moniteur, Seance du 15 Juillet 1792. ) that so, if possible, we hear of it no more! In the Months of February and March, it is recorded, the terror, especially of rural France, had risen even to the transcendental pitch:not far from madness. In Town and Hamlet is rumour; of war, massacre:that Austrians, Aristocrats, above all, that The Brigands are close by. Men quit their houses and huts; rush fugitive, shrieking, with wifeand child, they know not whither. Such a terror, the eye-witnesses say, never fell on a Nation; nor shall again fall, even in Reigns of Terrorexpressly so-called. The Countries of the Loire, all the Central andSouth-East regions, start up distracted, 'simultaneously as by anelectric shock;'--for indeed grain too gets scarcer and scarcer. 'Thepeople barricade the entrances of Towns, pile stones in the upperstories, the women prepare boiling water; from moment to moment, expecting the attack. In the Country, the alarm-bell rings incessant:troops of peasants, gathered by it, scour the highways, seeking animaginary enemy. They are armed mostly with scythes stuck in wood;and, arriving in wild troops at the barricaded Towns, are themselvessometimes taken for Brigands. ' (Newspapers, &c. In Hist. Parl. Xiii. 325. ) So rushes old France: old France is rushing down. What the end will beis known to no mortal; that the end is near all mortals may know. Chapter 2. 5. VII. Constitution will not march. To all which our poor Legislative, tied up by an unmarchingConstitution, can oppose nothing, by way of remedy, but mere bursts ofparliamentary eloquence! They go on, debating, denouncing, objurgating:loud weltering Chaos, which devours itself. But their two thousand and odd Decrees? Reader, these happily concernnot thee, nor me. Mere Occasional Decrees, foolish and not foolish;sufficient for that day was its own evil! Of the whole two thousandthere are not, now half a score, and these mostly blighted in the budby royal Veto, that will profit or disprofit us. On the 17th of January, the Legislative, for one thing, got its High Court, its Haute Cour, set up at Orleans. The theory had been given by the Constituent, inMay last, but this is the reality: a Court for the trial of PoliticalOffences; a Court which cannot want work. To this it was decreed thatthere needed no royal Acceptance, therefore that there could be no Veto. Also Priests can now be married; ever since last October. A patrioticadventurous Priest had made bold to marry himself then; and not thinkingthis enough, came to the bar with his new spouse; that the whole worldmight hold honey-moon with him, and a Law be obtained. Less joyful are the Laws against Refractory Priests; and yet no lessneedful! Decrees on Priests and Decrees on Emigrants: these are thetwo brief Series of Decrees, worked out with endless debate, and thencancelled by Veto, which mainly concern us here. For an august NationalAssembly must needs conquer these Refractories, Clerical or Laic, andthumbscrew them into obedience; yet, behold, always as you turn yourlegislative thumbscrew, and will press and even crush till Refractoriesgive way, --King's Veto steps in, with magical paralysis; and yourthumbscrew, hardly squeezing, much less crushing, does not act! Truly a melancholy Set of Decrees, a pair of Sets; paralysed byVeto! First, under date the 28th of October 1791, we have LegislativeProclamation, issued by herald and bill-sticker; inviting Monsieur, theKing's Brother to return within two months, under penalties. To whichinvitation Monsieur replies nothing; or indeed replies by NewspaperParody, inviting the august Legislative 'to return to common sensewithin two months, ' under penalties. Whereupon the Legislative must takestronger measures. So, on the 9th of November, we declare all Emigrantsto be 'suspect of conspiracy;' and, in brief, to be 'outlawed, ' ifthey have not returned at Newyear's-day:--Will the King say Veto? That'triple impost' shall be levied on these men's Properties, or even theirProperties be 'put in sequestration, ' one can understand. But further, on Newyear's-day itself, not an individual having 'returned, ' wedeclare, and with fresh emphasis some fortnight later again declare, That Monsieur is dechu, forfeited of his eventual Heirship to the Crown;nay more that Conde, Calonne, and a considerable List of others areaccused of high treason; and shall be judged by our High Court ofOrleans: Veto!--Then again as to Nonjurant Priests: it was decreed, inNovember last, that they should forfeit what Pensions they had; be 'putunder inspection, under surveillance, ' and, if need were, be banished:Veto! A still sharper turn is coming; but to this also the answer willbe, Veto. Veto after Veto; your thumbscrew paralysed! Gods and men may see thatthe Legislative is in a false position. As, alas, who is in a true one?Voices already murmur for a 'National Convention. ' (December 1791 (Hist. Parl. Xii. 257). ) This poor Legislative, spurred and stung into actionby a whole France and a whole Europe, cannot act; can only objurgateand perorate; with stormy 'motions, ' and motion in which is no way: witheffervescence, with noise and fuliginous fury! What scenes in that National Hall! President jingling his inaudiblebell; or, as utmost signal of distress, clapping on his hat; 'the tumultsubsiding in twenty minutes, ' and this or the other indiscreet Membersent to the Abbaye Prison for three days! Suspected Persons must besummoned and questioned; old M. De Sombreuil of the Invalides has togive account of himself, and why he leaves his Gates open. Unusualsmoke rose from the Sevres Pottery, indicating conspiracy; the Pottersexplained that it was Necklace-Lamotte's Memoirs, bought up by herMajesty, which they were endeavouring to suppress by fire, (Moniteur, Seance du 28 Mai 1792; Campan, ii. 196. )--which nevertheless he thatruns may still read. Again, it would seem, Duke de Brissac and the King'sConstitutional-Guard are 'making cartridges secretly in the cellars;'a set of Royalists, pure and impure; black cut-throats many of them, picked out of gaming houses and sinks; in all Six thousand instead ofEighteen hundred; who evidently gloom on us every time we enter theChateau. (Dumouriez, ii. 168. ) Wherefore, with infinite debate, letBrissac and King's Guard be disbanded. Disbanded accordingly they are;after only two months of existence, for they did not get on foot tillMarch of this same year. So ends briefly the King's new ConstitutionalMaison Militaire; he must now be guarded by mere Swiss and blueNationals again. It seems the lot of Constitutional things. NewConstitutional Maison Civile he would never even establish, much asBarnave urged it; old resident Duchesses sniffed at it, and held aloof;on the whole her Majesty thought it not worth while, the Noblesse wouldso soon be back triumphant. (Campan, ii. C. 19. ) Or, looking still into this National Hall and its scenes, behold BishopTorne, a Constitutional Prelate, not of severe morals, demanding that'religious costumes and such caricatures' be abolished. Bishop Tornewarms, catches fire; finishes by untying, and indignantly flinging onthe table, as if for gage or bet, his own pontifical cross. Which cross, at any rate, is instantly covered by the cross of Te-Deum Fauchet, thenby other crosses, and insignia, till all are stripped; this clericalSenator clutching off his skull-cap, that other his frill-collar, --lestFanaticism return on us. (Moniteur, du 7 Avril 1792; Deux Amis, vii. 111. ) Quick is the movement here! And then so confused, unsubstantial, youmight call it almost spectral; pallid, dim, inane, like the Kingdomsof Dis! Unruly Liguet, shrunk to a kind of spectre for us, pleads here, some cause that he has: amid rumour and interruption, which excel humanpatience; he 'tears his papers, and withdraws, ' the irascible adustlittle man. Nay honourable members will tear their papers, beingeffervescent: Merlin of Thionville tears his papers, crying: "So, thePeople cannot be saved by you!" Nor are Deputations wanting: Deputationsof Sections; generally with complaint and denouncement, always withPatriot fervour of sentiment: Deputation of Women, pleading that theyalso may be allowed to take Pikes, and exercise in the Champ-de-Mars. Why not, ye Amazons, if it be in you? Then occasionally, having done ourmessage and got answer, we 'defile through the Hall, singing ca-ira;'or rather roll and whirl through it, 'dancing our ronde patriotique thewhile, '--our new Carmagnole, or Pyrrhic war-dance and liberty-dance. Patriot Huguenin, Ex-Advocate, Ex-Carabineer, Ex-Clerk of theBarriers, comes deputed, with Saint-Antoine at his heels; denouncingAnti-patriotism, Famine, Forstalment and Man-eaters; asks an augustLegislative: "Is there not a tocsin in your hearts against thesemangeurs d'hommes!" (See Moniteur, Seances in Hist. Parl. Xiii. Xiv. ) But above all things, for this is a continual business, the Legislativehas to reprimand the King's Ministers. Of His Majesty's Ministers wehave said hitherto, and say, next to nothing. Still more spectral these!Sorrowful; of no permanency any of them, none at least since Montmorinvanished: the 'eldest of the King's Council' is occasionally not tendays old! (Dumouriez, ii. 137. ) Feuillant-Constitutional, as yourrespectable Cahier de Gerville, as your respectable unfortunateDelessarts; or Royalist-Constitutional, as Montmorin last Friendof Necker; or Aristocrat as Bertrand-Moleville: they flit therephantom-like, in the huge simmering confusion; poor shadows, dashed inthe racking winds; powerless, without meaning;--whom the human memoryneed not charge itself with. But how often, we say, are these poor Majesty's Ministers summoned over;to be questioned, tutored; nay, threatened, almost bullied! They answerwhat, with adroitest simulation and casuistry, they can: of which apoor Legislative knows not what to make. One thing only is clear, ThatCimmerian Europe is girdling us in; that France (not actually dead, surely?) cannot march. Have a care, ye Ministers! Sharp Guadettransfixes you with cross-questions, with sudden Advocate-conclusions;the sleeping tempest that is in Vergniaud can be awakened. RestlessBrissot brings up Reports, Accusations, endless thin Logic; it isthe man's highday even now. Condorcet redacts, with his firm pen, our 'Address of the Legislative Assembly to the French Nation. ' (16thFebruary 1792 (Choix des Rapports, viii. 375-92). ) Fiery Max Isnard, who, for the rest, will "carry not Fire and Sword" on those CimmerianEnemies "but Liberty, "--is for declaring "that we hold Ministersresponsible; and that by responsibility we mean death, nous entendons lamort. " For verily it grows serious: the time presses, and traitors there are. Bertrand-Moleville has a smooth tongue, the known Aristocrat; gallin his heart. How his answers and explanations flow ready; jesuitic, plausible to the ear! But perhaps the notablest is this, which befelonce when Bertrand had done answering and was withdrawn. Scarcely hadthe august Assembly begun considering what was to be done with him, whenthe Hall fills with smoke. Thick sour smoke: no oratory, only wheezingand barking;--irremediable; so that the august Assembly has to adjourn!(Courrier de Paris, 14 Janvier, 1792 (Gorsas's Newspaper), in Hist. Parl. Xiii. 83. ) A miracle? Typical miracle? One knows not: only thisone seems to know, that 'the Keeper of the Stoves was appointed byBertrand' or by some underling of his!--O fuliginous confused Kingdomof Dis, with thy Tantalus-Ixion toils, with thy angry Fire-floods, andStreams named of Lamentation, why hast thou not thy Lethe too, that soone might finish? Chapter 2. 5. VIII. The Jacobins. Nevertheless let not Patriotism despair. Have we not, in Paris at least, a virtuous Petion, a wholly Patriotic Municipality? Virtuous Petion, ever since November, is Mayor of Paris: in our Municipality, the Public, for the Public is now admitted too, may behold an energetic Danton;further, an epigrammatic slow-sure Manuel; a resolute unrepentantBillaud-Varennes, of Jesuit breeding; Tallien able-editor; and nothingbut Patriots, better or worse. So ran the November Elections: to thejoy of most citizens; nay the very Court supported Petion rather thanLafayette. And so Bailly and his Feuillants, long waning like theMoon, had to withdraw then, making some sorrowful obeisance, intoextinction;--or indeed into worse, into lurid half-light, grimmed bythe shadow of that Red Flag of theirs, and bitter memory of theChamp-de-Mars. How swift is the progress of things and men! Not nowdoes Lafayette, as on that Federation-day, when his noon was, 'press hissword firmly on the Fatherland's Altar, ' and swear in sight ofFrance: ah no; he, waning and setting ever since that hour, hangs now, disastrous, on the edge of the horizon; commanding one of those Threemoulting Crane-flights of Armies, in a most suspected, unfruitful, uncomfortable manner! But, at most, cannot Patriotism, so many thousands strong in thisMetropolis of the Universe, help itself? Has it not right-hands, pikes?Hammering of pikes, which was not to be prohibited by Mayor Bailly, hasbeen sanctioned by Mayor Petion; sanctioned by Legislative Assembly. How not, when the King's so-called Constitutional Guard 'was makingcartridges in secret?' Changes are necessary for the National Guarditself; this whole Feuillant-Aristocrat Staff of the Guard must bedisbanded. Likewise, citizens without uniform may surely rank in theGuard, the pike beside the musket, in such a time: the 'active' citizenand the passive who can fight for us, are they not both welcome?--Omy Patriot friends, indubitably Yes! Nay the truth is, Patriotismthroughout, were it never so white-frilled, logical, respectable, musteither lean itself heartily on Sansculottism, the black, bottomless;or else vanish, in the frightfullest way, to Limbo! Thus some, withupturned nose, will altogether sniff and disdain Sansculottism; otherswill lean heartily on it; nay others again will lean what we callheartlessly on it: three sorts; each sort with a destiny corresponding. (Discours de Bailly, Reponse de Petion (Moniteur du 20 Novembre 1791). ) In such point of view, however, have we not for the present a VolunteerAlly, stronger than all the rest: namely, Hunger? Hunger; and whatrushing of Panic Terror this and the sum-total of our other miseries maybring! For Sansculottism grows by what all other things die of. StupidPeter Baille almost made an epigram, though unconsciously, and with thePatriot world laughing not at it but at him, when he wrote 'Tout vabien ici, le pain manque, All goes well here, victuals not to be had. '(Barbaroux, p. 94. ) Neither, if you knew it, is Patriotism without her Constitution that canmarch; her not impotent Parliament; or call it, Ecumenic Council, andGeneral-Assembly of the Jean-Jacques Churches: the MOTHER-SOCIETY, namely! Mother-Society with her three hundred full-grown Daughters; withwhat we can call little Granddaughters trying to walk, in every villageof France, numerable, as Burke thinks, by the hundred thousand. This isthe true Constitution; made not by Twelve-Hundred august Senators, butby Nature herself; and has grown, unconsciously, out of the wants andthe efforts of these Twenty-five Millions of men. They are 'Lords ofthe Articles, ' our Jacobins; they originate debates for the Legislative;discuss Peace and War; settle beforehand what the Legislative is todo. Greatly to the scandal of philosophical men, and of mostHistorians;--who do in that judge naturally, and yet not wisely. AGoverning power must exist: your other powers here are simulacra; thispower is it. Great is the Mother-Society: She has had the honour to be denounced byAustrian Kaunitz; (Moniteur, Seance du 29 Mars, 1792. ) and is allthe dearer to Patriotism. By fortune and valour, she has extinguishedFeuillantism itself, at least the Feuillant Club. This latter, highas it once carried its head, she, on the 18th of February, has thesatisfaction to see shut, extinct; Patriots having gone thither, withtumult, to hiss it out of pain. The Mother Society has enlarged herlocality, stretches now over the whole nave of the Church. Let us glancein, with the worthy Toulongeon, our old Ex-Constituent Friend, whohappily has eyes to see: 'The nave of the Jacobins Church, ' says he, 'ischanged into a vast Circus, the seats of which mount up circularly likean amphitheatre to the very groin of the domed roof. A high Pyramidof black marble, built against one of the walls, which was formerly afuneral monument, has alone been left standing: it serves now as back tothe Office-bearers' Bureau. Here on an elevated Platform sit Presidentand Secretaries, behind and above them the white Busts of Mirabeau, ofFranklin, and various others, nay finally of Marat. Facing this is theTribune, raised till it is midway between floor and groin of the dome, so that the speaker's voice may be in the centre. From that point, thunder the voices which shake all Europe: down below, in silence, areforging the thunderbolts and the firebrands. Penetrating into this hugecircuit, where all is out of measure, gigantic, the mind cannot represssome movement of terror and wonder; the imagination recals those dreadtemples which Poetry, of old, had consecrated to the Avenging Deities. '(Toulongeon, ii. 124. ) Scenes too are in this Jacobin Amphitheatre, --had History time for them. Flags of the 'Three free Peoples of the Universe, ' trinal brotherlyflags of England, America, France, have been waved here in concert; byLondon Deputation, of Whigs or Wighs and their Club, on this hand, andby young French Citizenesses on that; beautiful sweet-tongued FemaleCitizens, who solemnly send over salutation and brotherhood, alsoTricolor stitched by their own needle, and finally Ears of Wheat;while the dome rebellows with Vivent les trois peuples libres! from allthroats:--a most dramatic scene. Demoiselle Theroigne recites, from thatTribune in mid air, her persecutions in Austria; comes leaning on thearm of Joseph Chenier, Poet Chenier, to demand Liberty for the haplessSwiss of Chateau-Vieux. (Debats des Jacobins (Hist. Parl. Xiii. 259, &c. ). ) Be of hope, ye Forty Swiss; tugging there, in the Brest waters;not forgotten! Deputy Brissot perorates from that Tribune; Desmoulins, our wickedCamille, interjecting audibly from below, "Coquin!" Here, thoughoftener in the Cordeliers, reverberates the lion-voice of Danton; grimBillaud-Varennes is here; Collot d'Herbois, pleading for the FortySwiss; tearing a passion to rags. Apophthegmatic Manuel winds up inthis pithy way: "A Minister must perish!"--to which the Amphitheatreresponds: "Tous, Tous, All, All!" But the Chief Priest and Speaker ofthis place, as we said, is Robespierre, the long-winded incorruptibleman. What spirit of Patriotism dwelt in men in those times, this onefact, it seems to us, will evince: that fifteen hundred human creatures, not bound to it, sat quiet under the oratory of Robespierre; nay, listened nightly, hour after hour, applausive; and gaped as for the wordof life. More insupportable individual, one would say, seldom opened hismouth in any Tribune. Acrid, implacable-impotent; dull-drawling, barrenas the Harmattan-wind! He pleads, in endless earnest-shallow speech, against immediate War, against Woollen Caps or Bonnets Rouges, againstmany things; and is the Trismegistus and Dalai-Lama of Patriot men. Whomnevertheless a shrill-voiced little man, yet with fine eyes, and a broadbeautifully sloping brow, rises respectfully to controvert: he is, saythe Newspaper Reporters, 'M. Louvet, Author of the charming Romanceof Faublas. ' Steady, ye Patriots! Pull not yet two ways; with a Francerushing panic-stricken in the rural districts, and a Cimmerian Europestorming in on you! Chapter 2. 5. IX. Minister Roland. About the vernal equinox, however, one unexpected gleam of hope doesburst forth on Patriotism: the appointment of a thoroughly PatriotMinistry. This also his Majesty, among his innumerable experimentsof wedding fire to water, will try. Quod bonum sit. Madame d'Udon'sBreakfasts have jingled with a new significance; not even GeneveseDumont but had a word in it. Finally, on the 15th and onwards to the 23dday of March, 1792, when all is negociated, --this is the blessed issue;this Patriot Ministry that we see. General Dumouriez, with the Foreign Portfolio shall ply Kaunitz and theKaiser, in another style than did poor Delessarts; whom indeed we havesent to our High Court of Orleans for his sluggishness. War-ministerNarbonne is washed away by the Time-flood; poor Chevalier de Grave, chosen by the Court, is fast washing away: then shall austere Servan, able Engineer-Officer, mount suddenly to the War Department. GeneveseClaviere sees an old omen realized: passing the Finance Hotel, longyears ago, as a poor Genevese Exile, it was borne wondrously on hismind that he was to be Finance Minister; and now he is it;--and his poorWife, given up by the Doctors, rises and walks, not the victim of nervesbut their vanquisher. (Dumont, c. 20, 21. ) And above all, our Ministerof the Interior? Roland de la Platriere, he of Lyons! So have theBrissotins, public or private Opinion, and Breakfasts in the PlaceVendome decided it. Strict Roland, compared to a Quaker endimanche, orSunday Quaker, goes to kiss hands at the Tuileries, in round hat andsleek hair, his shoes tied with mere riband or ferrat! The SupremeUsher twitches Dumouriez aside: "Quoi, Monsieur! No buckles to hisshoes?"--"Ah, Monsieur, " answers Dumouriez, glancing towards the ferrat:"All is lost, Tout est perdu. " (Madame Roland, ii. 80-115. ) And so our fair Roland removes from her upper floor in the RueSaint-Jacques, to the sumptuous saloons once occupied by Madame Necker. Nay still earlier, it was Calonne that did all this gilding; it was hewho ground these lustres, Venetian mirrors; who polished this inlaying, this veneering and or-moulu; and made it, by rubbing of the properlamp, an Aladdin's Palace:--and now behold, he wanders dim-flitting overEurope, half-drowned in the Rhine-stream, scarcely saving his Papers!Vos non vobis. --The fair Roland, equal to either fortune, has her publicDinner on Fridays, the Ministers all there in a body: she withdraws toher desk (the cloth once removed), and seems busy writing; neverthelessloses no word: if for example Deputy Brissot and Minister Claviereget too hot in argument, she, not without timidity, yet with a cunninggracefulness, will interpose. Deputy Brissot's head, they say, isgetting giddy, in this sudden height: as feeble heads do. Envious men insinuate that the Wife Roland is Minister, and not theHusband: it is happily the worst they have to charge her with. Forthe rest, let whose head soever be getting giddy, it is not this bravewoman's. Serene and queenly here, as she was of old in her ownhired garret of the Ursulines Convent! She who has quietly shelledFrench-beans for her dinner; being led to that, as a young maiden, byquiet insight and computation; and knowing what that was, and what shewas: such a one will also look quietly on or-moulu and veneering, notignorant of these either. Calonne did the veneering: he gave dinnershere, old Besenval diplomatically whispering to him; and was great: yetCalonne we saw at last 'walk with long strides. ' Necker next: and wherenow is Necker? Us also a swift change has brought hither; a swift changewill send us hence. Not a Palace but a Caravansera! So wags and wavers this unrestful World, day after day, monthafter month. The Streets of Paris, and all Cities, roll daily theiroscillatory flood of men; which flood does, nightly, disappear, and liehidden horizontal in beds and trucklebeds; and awakes on the morrowto new perpendicularity and movement. Men go their roads, foolish orwise;--Engineer Goguelat to and fro, bearing Queen's cipher. A Madamede Stael is busy; cannot clutch her Narbonne from the Time-flood: aPrincess de Lamballe is busy; cannot help her Queen. Barnave, seeingthe Feuillants dispersed, and Coblentz so brisk, begs by way of finalrecompence to kiss her Majesty's hand; augurs not well of her newcourse; and retires home to Grenoble, to wed an heiress there. The CafeValois and Meot the Restaurateur's hear daily gasconade; loud babbleof Half-pay Royalists, with or without Poniards; remnants of Aristocratsaloons call the new Ministry Ministere-Sansculotte. A Louvet, of theRomance Faublas, is busy in the Jacobins. A Cazotte, of the RomanceDiable Amoureux, is busy elsewhere: better wert thou quiet, old Cazotte;it is a world, this, of magic become real! All men are busy; doingthey only half guess what:--flinging seeds, of tares mostly, into the"Seed-field of TIME" this, by and by, will declare wholly what. But Social Explosions have in them something dread, and as it were madand magical: which indeed Life always secretly has; thus the dumb Earth(says Fable), if you pull her mandrake-roots, will give a daemonicmad-making moan. These Explosions and Revolts ripen, break forth likedumb dread Forces of Nature; and yet they are Men's forces; and yet weare part of them: the Daemonic that is in man's life has burst out onus, will sweep us too away!--One day here is like another, and yet it isnot like but different. How much is growing, silently resistless, at allmoments! Thoughts are growing; forms of Speech are growing, and Customsand even Costumes; still more visibly are actions and transactionsgrowing, and that doomed Strife, of France with herself and with thewhole world. The word Liberty is never named now except in conjunction with another;Liberty and Equality. In like manner, what, in a reign of Liberty andEquality, can these words, 'Sir, ' 'obedient Servant, ' 'Honour to be, 'and such like, signify? Tatters and fibres of old Feudality; which, wereit only in the Grammatical province, ought to be rooted out! The MotherSociety has long since had proposals to that effect: these she couldnot entertain, not at the moment. Note too how the Jacobin Brethren aremounting new symbolical headgear: the Woollen Cap or Nightcap, bonnet delaine, better known as bonnet rouge, the colour being red. A thingone wears not only by way of Phrygian Cap-of-Liberty, but also forconvenience' sake, and then also in compliment to the Lower-classPatriots and Bastille-Heroes; for the Red Nightcap combines all thethree properties. Nay cockades themselves begin to be made of wool, oftricolor yarn: the riband-cockade, as a symptom of Feuillant Upper-classtemper, is becoming suspicious. Signs of the times. Still more, note the travail-throes of Europe: or, rather, note thebirth she brings; for the successive throes and shrieks, of Austrianand Prussian Alliance, of Kaunitz Anti-jacobin Despatch, of FrenchAmbassadors cast out, and so forth, were long to note. Dumouriezcorresponds with Kaunitz, Metternich, or Cobentzel, in another stylethat Delessarts did. Strict becomes stricter; categorical answer, as tothis Coblentz work and much else, shall be given. Failing which? Failingwhich, on the 20th day of April 1792, King and Ministers step over tothe Salle de Manege; promulgate how the matter stands; and poor Louis, 'with tears in his eyes, ' proposes that the Assembly do now decree War. After due eloquence, War is decreed that night. War, indeed! Paris came all crowding, full of expectancy, to themorning, and still more to the evening session. D'Orleans with his twosons, is there; looks on, wide-eyed, from the opposite Gallery. (DeuxAmis, vii. 146-66. ) Thou canst look, O Philippe: it is a War big withissues, for thee and for all men. Cimmerian Obscurantism and this thriceglorious Revolution shall wrestle for it, then: some Four-and-twentyyears; in immeasurable Briareus' wrestle; trampling and tearing; beforethey can come to any, not agreement, but compromise, and approximateascertainment each of what is in the other. Let our Three Generals on the Frontiers look to it, therefore; and poorChevalier de Grave, the Warminister, consider what he will do. What isin the three Generals and Armies we may guess. As for poor Chevalier deGrave, he, in this whirl of things all coming to a press and pinch uponhim, loses head, and merely whirls with them, in a totally distractedmanner; signing himself at last, 'De Grave, Mayor of Paris:' whereuponhe demits, returns over the Channel, to walk in Kensington Gardens;(Dumont, c. 19, 21. ) and austere Servan, the able Engineer-Officer, iselevated in his stead. To the post of Honour? To that of Difficulty, atleast. Chapter 2. 5. X. Petion-National-Pique. And yet, how, on dark bottomless Cataracts there plays the foolishestfantastic-coloured spray and shadow; hiding the Abyss under vapouryrainbows! Alongside of this discussion as to Austrian-Prussian War, there goes on no less but more vehemently a discussion, Whether theForty or Two-and-forty Swiss of Chateau-Vieux shall be liberated fromthe Brest Gallies? And then, Whether, being liberated, they shall have apublic Festival, or only private ones? Theroigne, as we saw, spoke; and Collot took up the tale. Has notBouille's final display of himself, in that final Night of Spurs, stamped your so-called 'Revolt of Nanci' into a 'Massacre of Nanci, 'for all Patriot judgments? Hateful is that massacre; hateful theLafayette-Feuillant 'public thanks' given for it! For indeed, JacobinPatriotism and dispersed Feuillantism are now at death-grips; and dofight with all weapons, even with scenic shows. The walls of Paris, accordingly, are covered with Placard and Counter-Placard, on thesubject of Forty Swiss blockheads. Journal responds to Journal; PlayerCollot to Poetaster Roucher; Joseph Chenier the Jacobin, squire ofTheroigne, to his Brother Andre the Feuillant; Mayor Petion to Dupont deNemours: and for the space of two months, there is nowhere peace for thethought of man, --till this thing be settled. Gloria in excelsis! The Forty Swiss are at last got 'amnestied. ' Rejoiceye Forty: doff your greasy wool Bonnets, which shall become Caps ofLiberty. The Brest Daughter-Society welcomes you from on board, withkisses on each cheek: your iron Handcuffs are disputed as Relics ofSaints; the Brest Society indeed can have one portion, which it willbeat into Pikes, a sort of Sacred Pikes; but the other portion mustbelong to Paris, and be suspended from the dome there, along with theFlags of the Three Free Peoples! Such a goose is man; and cackles overplush-velvet Grand Monarques and woollen Galley-slaves; over everythingand over nothing, --and will cackle with his whole soul merely if otherscackle! On the ninth morning of April, these Forty Swiss blockheads arrive. From Versailles; with vivats heaven-high; with the affluence of men andwomen. To the Townhall we conduct them; nay to the Legislativeitself, though not without difficulty. They are harangued, bedinnered, begifted, --the very Court, not for conscience' sake, contributingsomething; and their Public Festival shall be next Sunday. Next Sundayaccordingly it is. (Newspapers of February, March, April, 1792; Iambed'Andre Chenier sur la Fete des Suisses; &c. , &c. In Hist. Parl. Xiii, xiv. ) They are mounted into a 'triumphal Car resembling a ship;' arecarted over Paris, with the clang of cymbals and drums, all mortalsassisting applausive; carted to the Champ-de-Mars and Fatherland'sAltar; and finally carted, for Time always brings deliverance, --intoinvisibility for evermore. Whereupon dispersed Feuillantism, or that Party which loves Liberty yetnot more than Monarchy, will likewise have its Festival: Festival ofSimonneau, unfortunate Mayor of Etampes, who died for the Law; mostsurely for the Law, though Jacobinism disputes; being trampled downwith his Red Flag in the riot about grains. At which Festival the Publicagain assists, unapplausive: not we. On the whole, Festivals are not wanting; beautiful rainbow-spray whenall is now rushing treble-quick towards its Niagara Fall. Nationalrepasts there are; countenanced by Mayor Petion; Saint-Antoine, andthe Strong Ones of the Halles defiling through Jacobin Club, "theirfelicity, " according to Santerre, "not perfect otherwise;" singingmany-voiced their ca-ira, dancing their ronde patriotique. Among whomone is glad to discern Saint-Huruge, expressly 'in white hat, ' theSaint-Christopher of the Carmagnole. Nay a certain, Tambour or NationalDrummer, having just been presented with a little daughter, determinesto have the new Frenchwoman christened on Fatherland's Altar then andthere. Repast once over, he accordingly has her christened; Fauchet theTe-Deum Bishop acting in chief, Thuriot and honourable persons standinggossips: by the name, Petion-National-Pique! (Patriote-Francais(Brissot's Newspaper), in Hist. Parl. Xiii. 451. ) Does this remarkableCitizeness, now past the meridian of life, still walk the Earth? Or didshe die perhaps of teething? Universal History is not indifferent. Chapter 2. 5. XI. The Hereditary Representative. And yet it is not by carmagnole-dances and singing of ca-ira, that thework can be done. Duke Brunswick is not dancing carmagnoles, but has hisdrill serjeants busy. On the Frontiers, our Armies, be it treason or not, behave in the worstway. Troops badly commanded, shall we say? Or troops intrinsically bad?Unappointed, undisciplined, mutinous; that, in a thirty-years peace, have never seen fire? In any case, Lafayette's and Rochambeau's littleclutch, which they made at Austrian Flanders, has prospered as badlyas clutch need do: soldiers starting at their own shadow; suddenlyshrieking, "On nous trahit, " and flying off in wild panic, at or beforethe first shot;--managing only to hang some two or three Prisoners theyhad picked up, and massacre their own Commander, poor Theobald Dillon, driven into a granary by them in the Town of Lille. And poor Gouvion: he who sat shiftless in that Insurrection of Women!Gouvion quitted the Legislative Hall and Parliamentary duties, indisgust and despair, when those Galley-slaves of Chateau-Vieux wereadmitted there. He said, "Between the Austrians and the Jacobins thereis nothing but a soldier's death for it;" (Toulongeon, ii. 149. ) and so, 'in the dark stormy night, ' he has flung himself into the throat of theAustrian cannon, and perished in the skirmish at Maubeuge on the ninthof June. Whom Legislative Patriotism shall mourn, with black mortclothsand melody in the Champ-de-Mars: many a Patriot shiftier, truer none. Lafayette himself is looking altogether dubious; in place of beating theAustrians, is about writing to denounce the Jacobins. Rochambeau, all disconsolate, quits the service: there remains only Luckner, thebabbling old Prussian Grenadier. Without Armies, without Generals! And the Cimmerian Night, has gathereditself; Brunswick preparing his Proclamation; just about to march! Leta Patriot Ministry and Legislative say, what in these circumstances itwill do? Suppress Internal Enemies, for one thing, answers the PatriotLegislative; and proposes, on the 24th of May, its Decree for theBanishment of Priests. Collect also some nucleus of determined internalfriends, adds War-minister Servan; and proposes, on the 7th of June, hisCamp of Twenty-thousand. Twenty-thousand National Volunteers; Five outof each Canton; picked Patriots, for Roland has charge of the Interior:they shall assemble here in Paris; and be for a defence, cunninglydevised, against foreign Austrians and domestic Austrian Committeealike. So much can a Patriot Ministry and Legislative do. Reasonable and cunningly devised as such Camp may, to Servan andPatriotism, appear, it appears not so to Feuillantism; to thatFeuillant-Aristocrat Staff of the Paris Guard; a Staff, one would sayagain, which will need to be dissolved. These men see, in this proposedCamp of Servan's, an offence; and even, as they pretend to say, aninsult. Petitions there come, in consequence, from blue Feuillants inepaulettes; ill received. Nay, in the end, there comes one Petition, called 'of the Eight Thousand National Guards:' so many names are on it;including women and children. Which famed Petition of the Eight Thousandis indeed received: and the Petitioners, all under arms, are admitted tothe honours of the sitting, --if honours or even if sitting there be;for the instant their bayonets appear at the one door, the Assembly'adjourns, ' and begins to flow out at the other. (Moniteur, Seance du 10Juin 1792. ) Also, in these same days, it is lamentable to see how National Guards, escorting Fete Dieu or Corpus-Christi ceremonial, do collar and smitedown any Patriot that does not uncover as the Hostie passes. They claptheir bayonets to the breast of Cattle-butcher Legendre, a known Patriotever since the Bastille days; and threaten to butcher him; though he satquite respectfully, he says, in his Gig, at a distance of fifty paces, waiting till the thing were by. Nay, orthodox females were shrieking tohave down the Lanterne on him. (Debats des Jacobins in Hist. Parl. Xiv. 429. ) To such height has Feuillantism gone in this Corps. For indeed, are nottheir Officers creatures of the chief Feuillant, Lafayette? The Courttoo has, very naturally, been tampering with them; caressing them, ever since that dissolution of the so-called Constitutional Guard. SomeBattalions are altogether 'petris, kneaded full' of Feuillantism, mere Aristocrats at bottom: for instance, the Battalion of theFilles-Saint-Thomas, made up of your Bankers, Stockbrokers, and otherFull-purses of the Rue Vivienne. Our worthy old Friend Weber, Queen'sFoster-brother Weber, carries a musket in that Battalion, --one may judgewith what degree of Patriotic intention. Heedless of all which, or rather heedful of all which, the Legislative, backed by Patriot France and the feeling of Necessity, decrees this Campof Twenty thousand. Decisive though conditional Banishment of malignPriests, it has already decreed. It will now be seen, therefore, Whether the Hereditary Representativeis for us or against us? Whether or not, to all our other woes, thisintolerablest one is to be added; which renders us not a menaced Nationin extreme jeopardy and need, but a paralytic Solecism of a Nation;sitting wrapped as in dead cerements, of a Constitutional-Vesture thatwere no other than a winding-sheet; our right hand glued to our left: towait there, writhing and wriggling, unable to stir from the spot, till in Prussian rope we mount to the gallows? Let the HereditaryRepresentative consider it well: The Decree of Priests? The Camp ofTwenty Thousand?--By Heaven, he answers, Veto! Veto!--Strict Rolandhands in his Letter to the King; or rather it was Madame's Letter, who wrote it all at a sitting; one of the plainest-spoken Letters everhanded in to any King. This plain-spoken Letter King Louis has thebenefit of reading overnight. He reads, inwardly digests; and nextmorning, the whole Patriot Ministry finds itself turned out. It is the13th of June 1792. (Madame Roland, ii. 115. ) Dumouriez the many-counselled, he, with one Duranthon, called Ministerof Justice, does indeed linger for a day or two; in rather suspiciouscircumstances; speaks with the Queen, almost weeps with her: but inthe end, he too sets off for the Army; leaving what Un-Patriot orSemi-Patriot Ministry and Ministries can now accept the helm, to acceptit. Name them not: new quick-changing Phantasms, which shift likemagic-lantern figures; more spectral than ever! Unhappy Queen, unhappy Louis! The two Vetos were so natural: are not thePriests martyrs; also friends? This Camp of Twenty Thousand, could itbe other than of stormfullest Sansculottes? Natural; and yet, to France, unendurable. Priests that co-operate with Coblentz must go elsewhitherwith their martyrdom: stormful Sansculottes, these and no other kind ofcreatures, will drive back the Austrians. If thou prefer the Austrians, then for the love of Heaven go join them. If not, join frankly with whatwill oppose them to the death. Middle course is none. Or alas, what extreme course was there left now, for a man like Louis?Underhand Royalists, Ex-Minister Bertrand-Moleville, Ex-ConstituentMalouet, and all manner of unhelpful individuals, advise and advise. With face of hope turned now on the Legislative Assembly, and now onAustria and Coblentz, and round generally on the Chapter of Chances, anancient Kingship is reeling and spinning, one knows not whitherward, onthe flood of things. Chapter 2. 5. XII. Procession of the Black Breeches. But is there a thinking man in France who, in these circumstances, can persuade himself that the Constitution will march? Brunswick isstirring; he, in few days now, will march. Shall France sit still, wrapped in dead cerements and grave-clothes, its right hand glued toits left, till the Brunswick Saint-Bartholomew arrive; till France be asPoland, and its Rights of Man become a Prussian Gibbet? Verily, it is a moment frightful for all men. National Death; or elsesome preternatural convulsive outburst of National Life;--that same, daemonic outburst! Patriots whose audacity has limits had, in truth, better retire like Barnave; court private felicity at Grenoble. Patriots, whose audacity has no limits must sink down into the obscure;and, daring and defying all things, seek salvation in stratagem, in Plotof Insurrection. Roland and young Barbaroux have spread out the Mapof France before them, Barbaroux says 'with tears:' they consider whatRivers, what Mountain ranges are in it: they will retire behind thisLoire-stream, defend these Auvergne stone-labyrinths; save somelittle sacred Territory of the Free; die at least in their last ditch. Lafayette indites his emphatic Letter to the Legislative againstJacobinism; (Moniteur, Seance du 18 Juin 1792. ) which emphatic Letterwill not heal the unhealable. Forward, ye Patriots whose audacity has no limits; it is you now thatmust either do or die! The sections of Paris sit in deep counsel; sendout Deputation after Deputation to the Salle de Manege, to petition anddenounce. Great is their ire against tyrannous Veto, Austrian Committee, and the combined Cimmerian Kings. What boots it? Legislative listens tothe 'tocsin in our hearts;' grants us honours of the sitting, sees usdefile with jingle and fanfaronade; but the Camp of Twenty Thousand, the Priest-Decree, be-vetoed by Majesty, are become impossible forLegislative. Fiery Isnard says, "We will have Equality, should wedescend for it to the tomb. " Vergniaud utters, hypothetically, his sternEzekiel-visions of the fate of Anti-national Kings. But the questionis: Will hypothetic prophecies, will jingle and fanfaronade demolishthe Veto; or will the Veto, secure in its Tuileries Chateau, remainundemolishable by these? Barbaroux, dashing away his tears, writes tothe Marseilles Municipality, that they must send him 'Six hundred menwho know how to die, qui savent mourir. ' (Barbaroux, p. 40. ) No wet-eyedmessage this, but a fire-eyed one;--which will be obeyed! Meanwhile the Twentieth of June is nigh, anniversary of thatworld-famous Oath of the Tennis-Court: on which day, it is said, certain citizens have in view to plant a Mai or Tree of Liberty, inthe Tuileries Terrace of the Feuillants; perhaps also to petition theLegislative and Hereditary Representative about these Vetos;--withsuch demonstration, jingle and evolution, as may seem profitable andpracticable. Sections have gone singly, and jingled and evolved: but ifthey all went, or great part of them, and there, planting their Mai inthese alarming circumstances, sounded the tocsin in their hearts? Among King's Friends there can be but one opinion as to such a step:among Nation's Friends there may be two. On the one hand, might it notby possibility scare away these unblessed Vetos? Private Patriotsand even Legislative Deputies may have each his own opinion, or ownno-opinion: but the hardest task falls evidently on Mayor Petion and theMunicipals, at once Patriots and Guardians of the public Tranquillity. Hushing the matter down with the one hand; tickling it up withthe other! Mayor Petion and Municipality may lean this way;Department-Directory with Procureur-Syndic Roederer having a Feuillanttendency, may lean that. On the whole, each man must act according tohis one opinion or to his two opinions; and all manner of influences, official representations cross one another in the foolishest way. Perhaps after all, the Project, desirable and yet not desirable, willdissipate itself, being run athwart by so many complexities; and comingto nothing? Not so: on the Twentieth morning of June, a large Tree of Liberty, Lombardy Poplar by kind, lies visibly tied on its car, in theSuburb-Antoine. Suburb Saint-Marceau too, in the uttermost South-East, and all that remote Oriental region, Pikemen and Pikewomen, NationalGuards, and the unarmed curious are gathering, --with the peaceablestintentions in the world. A tricolor Municipal arrives; speaks. Tush, it is all peaceable, we tell thee, in the way of Law: are not Petitionsallowable, and the Patriotism of Mais? The tricolor Municipal returnswithout effect: your Sansculottic rills continue flowing, combining intobrooks: towards noontide, led by tall Santerre in blue uniform, by tallSaint-Huruge in white hat, it moves Westward, a respectable river, orcomplication of still-swelling rivers. What Processions have we not seen: Corpus-Christi and Legendre waitingin Gig; Bones of Voltaire with bullock-chariots, and goadsmen in RomanCostume; Feasts of Chateau-Vieux and Simonneau; Gouvion Funerals, Rousseau Sham-Funerals, and the Baptism of Petion-National-Pike!Nevertheless this Procession has a character of its own. Tricolorribands streaming aloft from pike-heads; ironshod batons; and emblemsnot a few; among which, see specially these two, of the tragic andthe untragic sort: a Bull's Heart transfixed with iron, bearing thisepigraph, 'Coeur d'Aristocrate, Aristocrat's Heart;' and, more strikingstill, properly the standard of the host, a pair of old Black Breeches(silk, they say), extended on cross-staff high overhead, with thesememorable words: 'Tremblez tyrans, voila les Sansculottes, Trembletyrants, here are the Sans-indispensables!' Also, the Procession trailstwo cannons. Scarfed tricolor Municipals do now again meet it, in the QuaiSaint-Bernard; and plead earnestly, having called halt. Peaceable, yevirtuous tricolor Municipals, peaceable are we as the sucking dove. Behold our Tennis-Court Mai. Petition is legal; and as for arms, didnot an august Legislative receive the so-called Eight Thousand in arms, Feuillants though they were? Our Pikes, are they not of National iron?Law is our father and mother, whom we will not dishonour; but Patriotismis our own soul. Peaceable, ye virtuous Municipals;--and on the whole, limited as to time! Stop we cannot; march ye with us. --The BlackBreeches agitate themselves, impatient; the cannon-wheels grumble: themany-footed Host tramps on. How it reached the Salle de Manege, like an ever-waxing river; gotadmittance, after debate; read its Address; and defiled, dancingand ca-ira-ing, led by tall sonorous Santerre and tall sonorousSaint-Huruge: how it flowed, not now a waxing river but a shut Caspianlake, round all Precincts of the Tuileries; the front Patriot squeezedby the rearward, against barred iron Grates, like to have the lifesqueezed out of him, and looking too into the dread throat of cannon, for National Battalions stand ranked within: how tricolor Municipals ranassiduous, and Royalists with Tickets of Entry; and both Majesties satin the interior surrounded by men in black: all this the human mindshall fancy for itself, or read in old Newspapers, and Syndic Roederer'sChronicle of Fifty Days. (Roederer, &c. &c. In Hist. Parl. Xv. 98-194. ) Our Mai is planted; if not in the Feuillants Terrace, whither is noingate, then in the Garden of the Capuchins, as near as we could get. National Assembly has adjourned till the Evening Session: perhaps thisshut lake, finding no ingate, will retire to its sources again; anddisappear in peace? Alas, not yet: rearward still presses on; rearwardknows little what pressure is in the front. One would wish at allevents, were it possible, to have a word with his Majesty first! The shadows fall longer, eastward; it is four o'clock: will hisMajesty not come out? Hardly he! In that case, Commandant Santerre, Cattle-butcher Legendre, Patriot Huguenin with the tocsin in his heart;they, and others of authority, will enter in. Petition and request towearied uncertain National Guard; louder and louder petition; backedby the rattle of our two cannons! The reluctant Grate opens: endlessSansculottic multitudes flood the stairs; knock at the wooden guardianof your privacy. Knocks, in such case, grow strokes, grow smashings: thewooden guardian flies in shivers. And now ensues a Scene over which theworld has long wailed; and not unjustly; for a sorrier spectacle, ofIncongruity fronting Incongruity, and as it were recognising themselvesincongruous, and staring stupidly in each other's face, the world seldomsaw. King Louis, his door being beaten on, opens it; stands with free bosom;asking, "What do you want?" The Sansculottic flood recoils awestruck;returns however, the rear pressing on the front, with cries of "Veto!Patriot Ministers! Remove Veto!"--which things, Louis valiantly answers, this is not the time to do, nor this the way to ask him to do. Honourwhat virtue is in a man. Louis does not want courage; he has even thehigher kind called moral-courage, though only the passive half of that. His few National Grenadiers shuffle back with him, into the embrasureof a window: there he stands, with unimpeachable passivity, amid theshouldering and the braying; a spectacle to men. They hand him a RedCap of Liberty; he sets it quietly on his head, forgets it there. Hecomplains of thirst; half-drunk Rascality offers him a bottle, he drinksof it. "Sire, do not fear, " says one of his Grenadiers. "Fear?" answersLouis: "feel then, " putting the man's hand on his heart. So standsMajesty in Red woollen Cap; black Sansculottism weltering round him, farand wide, aimless, with in-articulate dissonance, with cries of "Veto!Patriot Ministers!" For the space of three hours or more! The National Assembly isadjourned; tricolor Municipals avail almost nothing: Mayor Petiontarries absent; Authority is none. The Queen with her Children andSister Elizabeth, in tears and terror not for themselves only, aresitting behind barricaded tables and Grenadiers in an inner room. TheMen in Black have all wisely disappeared. Blind lake of Sansculottismwelters stagnant through the King's Chateau, for the space of threehours. Nevertheless all things do end. Vergniaud arrives with LegislativeDeputation, the Evening Session having now opened. Mayor Petion hasarrived; is haranguing, 'lifted on the shoulders of two Grenadiers. 'In this uneasy attitude and in others, at various places without andwithin, Mayor Petion harangues; many men harangue: finally CommandantSanterre defiles; passes out, with his Sansculottism, by the oppositeside of the Chateau. Passing through the room where the Queen, withan air of dignity and sorrowful resignation, sat among the tables andGrenadiers, a woman offers her too a Red Cap; she holds it in her hand, even puts it on the little Prince Royal. "Madame, " said Santerre, "thisPeople loves you more than you think. " (Toulongeon, ii. 173; Campan, ii. C. 20. )--About eight o'clock the Royal Family fall into each other'sarms amid 'torrents of tears. ' Unhappy Family! Who would not weep forit, were there not a whole world to be wept for? Thus has the Age of Chivalry gone, and that of Hunger come. Thus doesall-needing Sansculottism look in the face of its Roi, Regulator, Kingor Ableman; and find that he has nothing to give it. Thus do the twoParties, brought face to face after long centuries, stare stupidly atone another, This am I; but, Good Heaven, is that thou?--and depart, not knowing what to make of it. And yet, Incongruities having recognisedthemselves to be incongruous, something must be made of it. The Fatesknow what. This is the world-famous Twentieth of June, more worthy to be called theProcession of the Black Breeches. With which, what we had to say of thisFirst French biennial Parliament, and its products and activities, mayperhaps fitly enough terminate. BOOK 2. VI. THE MARSEILLESE Chapter 2. 6. I. Executive that does not act. How could your paralytic National Executive be put 'in action, ' in anymeasure, by such a Twentieth of June as this? Quite contrariwise: alarge sympathy for Majesty so insulted arises every where; expressesitself in Addresses, Petitions 'Petition of the Twenty Thousandinhabitants of Paris, ' and such like, among all Constitutional persons;a decided rallying round the Throne. Of which rallying it was thought King Louis might have made something. However, he does make nothing of it, or attempt to make; for indeed hisviews are lifted beyond domestic sympathy and rallying, over to Coblentzmainly: neither in itself is the same sympathy worth much. It issympathy of men who believe still that the Constitution can march. Wherefore the old discord and ferment, of Feuillant sympathy forRoyalty, and Jacobin sympathy for Fatherland, acting against eachother from within; with terror of Coblentz and Brunswick acting fromwithout:--this discord and ferment must hold on its course, till acatastrophe do ripen and come. One would think, especially as Brunswickis near marching, such catastrophe cannot now be distant. Busy, yeTwenty-five French Millions; ye foreign Potentates, minatory Emigrants, German drill-serjeants; each do what his hand findeth! Thou, O Reader, at such safe distance, wilt see what they make of it among them. Consider therefore this pitiable Twentieth of June as a futility; nocatastrophe, rather a catastasis, or heightening. Do not its BlackBreeches wave there, in the Historical Imagination, like a melancholyflag of distress; soliciting help, which no mortal can give? Solicitingpity, which thou wert hard-hearted not to give freely, to one and all!Other such flags, or what are called Occurrences, and black or brightsymbolic Phenomena; will flit through the Historical Imagination: these, one after one, let us note, with extreme brevity. The first phenomenon is that of Lafayette at the Bar of the Assembly;after a week and day. Promptly, on hearing of this scandalous Twentiethof June, Lafayette has quitted his Command on the North Frontier, inbetter or worse order; and got hither, on the 28th, to repress theJacobins: not by Letter now; but by oral Petition, and weightof character, face to face. The august Assembly finds the stepquestionable; invites him meanwhile to the honours of the sitting. (Moniteur, Seance du 28 Juin 1792. ) Other honour, or advantage, thereunhappily came almost none; the Galleries all growling; fiery Isnardglooming; sharp Guadet not wanting in sarcasms. And out of doors, when the sitting is over, Sieur Resson, keeper of thePatriot Cafe in these regions, hears in the street a hurly-burly; stepsforth to look, he and his Patriot customers: it is Lafayette's carriage, with a tumultuous escort of blue Grenadiers, Cannoneers, even Officersof the Line, hurrahing and capering round it. They make a pause oppositeSieur Resson's door; wag their plumes at him; nay shake their fists, bellowing A bas les Jacobins; but happily pass on without onslaught. They pass on, to plant a Mai before the General's door, and bullyconsiderably. All which the Sieur Resson cannot but report with sorrow, that night, in the Mother Society. (Debats des Jacobins Hist. Parl. Xv. 235. ) But what no Sieur Resson nor Mother Society can do more thanguess is this, That a council of rank Feuillants, your unabolishedStaff of the Guard and who else has status and weight, is in these verymoments privily deliberating at the General's: Can we not put down theJacobins by force? Next day, a Review shall be held, in the TuileriesGarden, of such as will turn out, and try. Alas, says Toulongeon, hardlya hundred turned out. Put it off till tomorrow, then, to give betterwarning. On the morrow, which is Saturday, there turn out 'some thirty;'and depart shrugging their shoulders! (Toulongeon, ii. 180. See alsoDampmartin, ii. 161. ) Lafayette promptly takes carriage again; returnsmusing on my things. The dust of Paris is hardly off his wheels, the summer Sunday is stillyoung, when Cordeliers in deputation pluck up that Mai of his: beforesunset, Patriots have burnt him in effigy. Louder doubt and louderrises, in Section, in National Assembly, as to the legality of suchunbidden Anti-jacobin visit on the part of a General: doubt swelling andspreading all over France, for six weeks or so: with endless talk aboutusurping soldiers, about English Monk, nay about Cromwell: O thou ParisGrandison-Cromwell!--What boots it? King Louis himself looked coldly onthe enterprize: colossal Hero of two Worlds, having weighed himselfin the balance, finds that he is become a gossamer Colossus, only somethirty turning out. In a like sense, and with a like issue, works our Department-Directoryhere at Paris; who, on the 6th of July, take upon them to suspend MayorPetion and Procureur Manuel from all civic functions, for their conduct, replete, as is alleged, with omissions and commissions, on that delicateTwentieth of June. Virtuous Petion sees himself a kind of martyr, orpseudo-martyr, threatened with several things; drawls out due heroicallamentation; to which Patriot Paris and Patriot Legislative dulyrespond. King Louis and Mayor Petion have already had an interview onthat business of the Twentieth; an interview and dialogue, distinguishedby frankness on both sides; ending on King Louis's side with the words, "Taisez-vous, Hold your peace. " For the rest, this of suspending our Mayor does seem a mistimed measure. By ill chance, it came out precisely on the day of that famous Baiser del'amourette, or miraculous reconciliatory Delilah-Kiss, which we spokeof long ago. Which Delilah-Kiss was thereby quite hindered of effect. For now his Majesty has to write, almost that same night, asking areconciled Assembly for advice! The reconciled Assembly will not advise;will not interfere. The King confirms the suspension; then perhaps, butnot till then will the Assembly interfere, the noise of Patriot Parisgetting loud. Whereby your Delilah-Kiss, such was the destiny ofParliament First, becomes a Philistine Battle! Nay there goes a word that as many as Thirty of our chief PatriotSenators are to be clapped in prison, by mittimus and indictment ofFeuillant Justices, Juges de Paix; who here in Paris were well capableof such a thing. It was but in May last that Juge de Paix Lariviere, oncomplaint of Bertrand-Moleville touching that Austrian Committee, made bold to launch his mittimus against three heads of the Mountain, Deputies Bazire, Chabot, Merlin, the Cordelier Trio; summoning them toappear before him, and shew where that Austrian Committee was, or elsesuffer the consequences. Which mittimus the Trio, on their side, made bold to fling in the fire: and valiantly pleaded privilege ofParliament. So that, for his zeal without knowledge, poor JusticeLariviere now sits in the prison of Orleans, waiting trial from theHaute Cour there. Whose example, may it not deter other rash Justices;and so this word of the Thirty arrestments continue a word merely? But on the whole, though Lafayette weighed so light, and has had his Maiplucked up, Official Feuillantism falters not a whit; but carries itshead high, strong in the letter of the Law. Feuillants all of these men:a Feuillant Directory; founding on high character, and such like;with Duke de la Rochefoucault for President, --a thing which may provedangerous for him! Dim now is the once bright Anglomania of theseadmired Noblemen. Duke de Liancourt offers, out of Normandy where heis Lord-Lieutenant, not only to receive his Majesty, thinking of flightthither, but to lend him money to enormous amounts. Sire, it is nota Revolt, it is a Revolution; and truly no rose-water one! WorthierNoblemen were not in France nor in Europe than those two: but the Timeis crooked, quick-shifting, perverse; what straightest course will leadto any goal, in it? Another phasis which we note, in these early July days, is that ofcertain thin streaks of Federate National Volunteers wending fromvarious points towards Paris, to hold a new Federation-Festival, orFeast of Pikes, on the Fourteenth there. So has the National Assemblywished it, so has the Nation willed it. In this way, perhaps, may westill have our Patriot Camp in spite of Veto. For cannot these Federes, having celebrated their Feast of Pikes, march on to Soissons; and, therebeing drilled and regimented, rush to the Frontiers, or whither we like?Thus were the one Veto cunningly eluded! As indeed the other Veto, about Priests, is also like to be eluded;and without much cunning. For Provincial Assemblies, in Calvados asone instance, are proceeding on their own strength to judge and banishAntinational Priests. Or still worse without Provincial Assembly, a desperate People, as at Bourdeaux, can 'hang two of them on theLanterne, ' on the way towards judgment. (Hist. Parl. Xvi. 259. ) Pity forthe spoken Veto, when it cannot become an acted one! It is true, some ghost of a War-minister, or Home-minister, for thetime being, ghost whom we do not name, does write to Municipalities andKing's Commanders, that they shall, by all conceivable methods, obstructthis Federation, and even turn back the Federes by force of arms: amessage which scatters mere doubt, paralysis and confusion; irritatesthe poor Legislature; reduces the Federes as we see, to thin streaks. But being questioned, this ghost and the other ghosts, What it is thenthat they propose to do for saving the country?--they answer, Thatthey cannot tell; that indeed they for their part have, this morning, resigned in a body; and do now merely respectfully take leave of thehelm altogether. With which words they rapidly walk out of the Hall, sortent brusquement de la salle, the 'Galleries cheering loudly, ' thepoor Legislature sitting 'for a good while in silence!' (Moniteur, Seance du Juillet 1792. ) Thus do Cabinet-ministers themselves, inextreme cases, strike work; one of the strangest omens. Other completeCabinet-ministry there will not be; only fragments, and these changeful, which never get completed; spectral Apparitions that cannot so much asappear! King Louis writes that he now views this Federation Feast withapproval; and will himself have the pleasure to take part in the same. And so these thin streaks of Federes wend Parisward through a paralyticFrance. Thin grim streaks; not thick joyful ranks, as of old to thefirst Feast of Pikes! No: these poor Federates march now towards Austriaand Austrian Committee, towards jeopardy and forlorn hope; men of hardfortune and temper, not rich in the world's goods. Municipalities, paralyzed by War-ministers are shy of affording cash: it may be, your poor Federates cannot arm themselves, cannot march, till theDaughter-Society of the place open her pocket, and subscribe. There willnot have arrived, at the set day, Three thousand of them in all. Andyet, thin and feeble as these streaks of Federates seem, they arethe only thing one discerns moving with any clearness of aim, in thisstrange scene. Angry buz and simmer; uneasy tossing and moaning of ahuge France, all enchanted, spell-bound by unmarching Constitution, into frightful conscious and unconscious Magnetic-sleep; which frightfulMagnetic-sleep must now issue soon in one of two things: Death orMadness! The Federes carry mostly in their pocket some earnest cry andPetition, to have the 'National Executive put in action;' or as a steptowards that, to have the King's Decheance, King's Forfeiture, orat least his Suspension, pronounced. They shall be welcome to theLegislative, to the Mother of Patriotism; and Paris will provide fortheir lodging. Decheance, indeed: and, what next? A France spell-free, a Revolutionsaved; and any thing, and all things next! so answer grimly Danton andthe unlimited Patriots, down deep in their subterranean region ofPlot, whither they have now dived. Decheance, answers Brissot with thelimited: And if next the little Prince Royal were crowned, and someRegency of Girondins and recalled Patriot Ministry set over him? Alas, poor Brissot; looking, as indeed poor man does always, on the nearestmorrow as his peaceable promised land; deciding what must reach to theworld's end, yet with an insight that reaches not beyond his own nose!Wiser are the unlimited subterranean Patriots, who with light for thehour itself, leave the rest to the gods. Or were it not, as we now stand, the probablest issue of all, thatBrunswick, in Coblentz, just gathering his huge limbs towards him torise, might arrive first; and stop both Decheance, and theorizing onit? Brunswick is on the eve of marching; with Eighty Thousand, theysay; fell Prussians, Hessians, feller Emigrants: a General of the GreatFrederick, with such an Army. And our Armies? And our Generals? As forLafayette, on whose late visit a Committee is sitting and all Franceis jarring and censuring, he seems readier to fight us than fightBrunswick. Luckner and Lafayette pretend to be interchanging corps, andare making movements; which Patriotism cannot understand. This only isvery clear, that their corps go marching and shuttling, in the interiorof the country; much nearer Paris than formerly! Luckner has orderedDumouriez down to him, down from Maulde, and the Fortified Camp there. Which order the many-counselled Dumouriez, with the Austrians hangingclose on him, he busy meanwhile training a few thousands to stand fireand be soldiers, declares that, come of it what will, he cannot obey. (Dumouriez, ii. 1, 5. ) Will a poor Legislative, therefore, sanctionDumouriez; who applies to it, 'not knowing whether there is anyWar-ministry?' Or sanction Luckner and these Lafayette movements? The poor Legislative knows not what to do. It decrees, however, thatthe Staff of the Paris Guard, and indeed all such Staffs, for they areFeuillants mostly, shall be broken and replaced. It decrees earnestly inwhat manner one can declare that the Country is in Danger. And finally, on the 11th of July, the morrow of that day when the Ministry struckwork, it decrees that the Country be, with all despatch, declared inDanger. Whereupon let the King sanction; let the Municipality takemeasures: if such Declaration will do service, it need not fail. In Danger, truly, if ever Country was! Arise, O Country; or be troddendown to ignominious ruin! Nay, are not the chances a hundred to one thatno rising of the Country will save it; Brunswick, the Emigrants, andFeudal Europe drawing nigh? Chapter 2. 6. II. Let us march. But to our minds the notablest of all these moving phenomena, is that ofBarbaroux's 'Six Hundred Marseillese who know how to die. ' Prompt to the request of Barbaroux, the Marseilles Municipality has gotthese men together: on the fifth morning of July, the Townhall says, "Marchez, abatez le Tyran, March, strike down the Tyrant;" (Dampmartin, ii. 183. ) and they, with grim appropriate "Marchons, " are marching. Longjourney, doubtful errand; Enfans de la Patrie, may a good genius guideyou! Their own wild heart and what faith it has will guide them: and isnot that the monition of some genius, better or worse? Five Hundred andSeventeen able men, with Captains of fifties and tens; well armed all, musket on shoulder, sabre on thigh: nay they drive three pieces ofcannon; for who knows what obstacles may occur? Municipalities thereare, paralyzed by War-minister; Commandants with orders to stop evenFederation Volunteers; good, when sound arguments will not open aTown-gate, if you have a petard to shiver it! They have left their sunnyPhocean City and Sea-haven, with its bustle and its bloom: the throngingCourse, with high-frondent Avenues, pitchy dockyards, almond and olivegroves, orange trees on house-tops, and white glittering bastides thatcrown the hills, are all behind them. They wend on their wild way, fromthe extremity of French land, through unknown cities, toward an unknowndestiny; with a purpose that they know. Much wondering at this phenomenon, and how, in a peaceable trading City, so many householders or hearth-holders do severally fling down theircrafts and industrial tools; gird themselves with weapons of war, and set out on a journey of six hundred miles to 'strike down thetyrant, '--you search in all Historical Books, Pamphlets, and Newspapers, for some light on it: unhappily without effect. Rumour and Terrorprecede this march; which still echo on you; the march itself an unknownthing. Weber, in the back-stairs of the Tuileries, has understood thatthey were Forcats, Galley-slaves and mere scoundrels, these Marseillese;that, as they marched through Lyons, the people shut their shops;--alsothat the number of them was some Four Thousand. Equally vague is BlancGilli, who likewise murmurs about Forcats and danger of plunder. (SeeBarbaroux, Memoires Note in p. 40, 41. ) Forcats they were not;neither was there plunder, or danger of it. Men of regular life, or ofthe best-filled purse, they could hardly be; the one thing needful inthem was that they 'knew how to die. ' Friend Dampmartin saw them, withhis own eyes, march 'gradually' through his quarters at Villefranche inthe Beaujolais: but saw in the vaguest manner; being indeed preoccupied, and himself minded for matching just then--across the Rhine. Deepwas his astonishment to think of such a march, without appointment orarrangement, station or ration: for the rest it was 'the same men he hadseen formerly' in the troubles of the South; 'perfectly civil;'though his soldiers could not be kept from talking a little with them. (Dampmartin, ubi supra. ) So vague are all these; Moniteur, Histoire Parlementaire are as good assilent: garrulous History, as is too usual, will say nothing where youmost wish her to speak! If enlightened Curiosity ever get sight of theMarseilles Council-Books, will it not perhaps explore this strangestof Municipal procedures; and feel called to fish up what of theBiographies, creditable or discreditable, of these Five Hundred andSeventeen, the stream of Time has not yet irrevocably swallowed? As it is, these Marseillese remain inarticulate, undistinguishable infeature; a blackbrowed Mass, full of grim fire, who wend there, in thehot sultry weather: very singular to contemplate. They wend; amid theinfinitude of doubt and dim peril; they not doubtful: Fate and FeudalEurope, having decided, come girdling in from without: they, having alsodecided, do march within. Dusty of face, with frugal refreshment, theyplod onwards; unweariable, not to be turned aside. Such march willbecome famous. The Thought, which works voiceless in this blackbrowedmass, an inspired Tyrtaean Colonel, Rouget de Lille whom the Earth stillholds, (A. D. 1836. ) has translated into grim melody and rhythm; intohis Hymn or March of the Marseillese: luckiest musical-composition everpromulgated. The sound of which will make the blood tingle in men'sveins; and whole Armies and Assemblages will sing it, with eyes weepingand burning, with hearts defiant of Death, Despot and Devil. One sees well, these Marseillese will be too late for the FederationFeast. In fact, it is not Champ-de-Mars Oaths that they have in view. They have quite another feat to do: a paralytic National Executiveto set in action. They must 'strike down' whatsoever 'Tyrant, ' orMartyr-Faineant, there may be who paralyzes it; strike and be struck;and on the whole prosper and know how to die. Chapter 2. 6. III. Some Consolation to Mankind. Of the Federation Feast itself we shall say almost nothing. There areTents pitched in the Champ-de-Mars; tent for National Assembly; tent forHereditary Representative, --who indeed is there too early, and hasto wait long in it. There are Eighty-three symbolical DepartmentalTrees-of-Liberty; trees and mais enough: beautifullest of all theseis one huge mai, hung round with effete Scutcheons, Emblazonriesand Genealogy-books; nay better still, with Lawyers'-bags, 'sacs deprocedure:' which shall be burnt. The Thirty seat-rows of that famedSlope are again full; we have a bright Sun; and all is marching, streamering and blaring: but what avails it? Virtuous Mayor Petion, whomFeuillantism had suspended, was reinstated only last night, by Decree ofthe Assembly. Men's humour is of the sourest. Men's hats have on them, written in chalk, 'Vive Petion;' and even, 'Petion or Death, Petion oula Mort. ' Poor Louis, who has waited till five o'clock before the Assembly wouldarrive, swears the National Oath this time, with a quilted cuirass underhis waistcoat which will turn pistol-bullets. (Campan, ii. C. 20; DeStael, ii. C. 7. ) Madame de Stael, from that Royal Tent, stretches outthe neck in a kind of agony, lest the waving multitudes which receivehim may not render him back alive. No cry of Vive le Roi salutesthe ear; cries only of Vive Petion; Petion ou la Mort. The NationalSolemnity is as it were huddled by; each cowering off almost beforethe evolutions are gone through. The very Mai with its Scutcheonsand Lawyers'-bags is forgotten, stands unburnt; till 'certain PatriotDeputies, ' called by the people, set a torch to it, by way of voluntaryafter-piece. Sadder Feast of Pikes no man ever saw. Mayor Petion, named on hats, is at his zenith in this Federation;Lafayette again is close upon his nadir. Why does the stormbell ofSaint-Roch speak out, next Saturday; why do the citizens shut theirshops? (Moniteur, Seance du 21 Juillet 1792. ) It is Sections defiling, it is fear of effervescence. Legislative Committee, long deliberatingon Lafayette and that Anti-jacobin Visit of his, reports, this day, thatthere is 'not ground for Accusation!' Peace, ye Patriots, nevertheless;and let that tocsin cease: the Debate is not finished, nor the Reportaccepted; but Brissot, Isnard and the Mountain will sift it, and resiftit, perhaps for some three weeks longer. So many bells, stormbells and noises do ring;--scarcely audible; onedrowning the other. For example: in this same Lafayette tocsin, ofSaturday, was there not withal some faint bob-minor, and Deputation ofLegislative, ringing the Chevalier Paul Jones to his long rest; tocsinor dirge now all one to him! Not ten days hence Patriot Brissot, beshouted this day by the Patriot Galleries, shall find himselfbegroaned by them, on account of his limited Patriotism; nay pelted atwhile perorating, and 'hit with two prunes. ' (Hist. Parl. Xvi. 185. ) Itis a distracted empty-sounding world; of bob-minors and bob-majors, oftriumph and terror, of rise and fall! The more touching is this other Solemnity, which happens on the morrowof the Lafayette tocsin: Proclamation that the Country is in Danger. Nottill the present Sunday could such Solemnity be. The Legislative decreedit almost a fortnight ago; but Royalty and the ghost of a Ministry heldback as they could. Now however, on this Sunday, 22nd day of July 1792, it will hold back no longer; and the Solemnity in very deed is. Touchingto behold! Municipality and Mayor have on their scarfs; cannon-salvobooms alarm from the Pont-Neuf, and single-gun at intervals all day. Guards are mounted, scarfed Notabilities, Halberdiers, and a Cavalcade;with streamers, emblematic flags; especially with one huge Flag, flapping mournfully: Citoyens, la Patrie est en Danger. They rollthrough the streets, with stern-sounding music, and slow rattle ofhoofs: pausing at set stations, and with doleful blast of trumpet, singing out through Herald's throat, what the Flag says to the eye:"Citizens, the Country is in Danger!" Is there a man's heart that hears it without a thrill? The many-voicedresponsive hum or bellow of these multitudes is not of triumph; andyet it is a sound deeper than triumph. But when the long Cavalcadeand Proclamation ended; and our huge Flag was fixed on the Pont Neuf, another like it on the Hotel-de-Ville, to wave there till better days;and each Municipal sat in the centre of his Section, in a Tent raisedin some open square, Tent surmounted with flags of Patrie en danger, andtopmost of all a Pike and Bonnet Rouge; and, on two drums in front ofhim, there lay a plank-table, and on this an open Book, and a Clerk sat, like recording-angel, ready to write the Lists, or as we say to enlist!O, then, it seems, the very gods might have looked down on it. YoungPatriotism, Culottic and Sansculottic, rushes forward emulous: That ismy name; name, blood, and life, is all my Country's; why have I nothingmore! Youths of short stature weep that they are below size. Old mencome forward, a son in each hand. Mothers themselves will grant the sonof their travail; send him, though with tears. And the multitude bellowsVive la Patrie, far reverberating. And fire flashes in the eyes ofmen;--and at eventide, your Municipal returns to the Townhall, followedby his long train of volunteer Valour; hands in his List: says proudly, looking round. This is my day's harvest. (Tableau de la Revolution, paraPatrie en Danger. ) They will march, on the morrow, to Soissons; smallbundle holding all their chattels. So, with Vive la Patrie, Vive la Liberte, stone Paris reverberates likeOcean in his caves; day after day, Municipals enlisting in tricolorTent; the Flag flapping on Pont Neuf and Townhall, Citoyens, la Patrieest en Danger. Some Ten thousand fighters, without discipline but fullof heart, are on march in few days. The like is doing in every Town ofFrance. --Consider therefore whether the Country will want defenders, hadwe but a National Executive? Let the Sections and Primary Assemblies, at any rate, become Permanent, and sit continually in Paris, and overFrance, by Legislative Decree dated Wednesday the 25th. (Moniteur, Seance du 25 Juillet 1792. ) Mark contrariwise how, in these very hours, dated the 25th, Brunswickshakes himself 's'ebranle, ' in Coblentz; and takes the road! Shakeshimself indeed; one spoken word becomes such a shaking. Successive, simultaneous dirl of thirty thousand muskets shouldered; prance andjingle of ten-thousand horsemen, fanfaronading Emigrants in the van;drum, kettle-drum; noise of weeping, swearing; and the immeasurablelumbering clank of baggage-waggons and camp-kettles that groan intomotion: all this is Brunswick shaking himself; not without all this doesthe one man march, 'covering a space of forty miles. ' Still less withouthis Manifesto, dated, as we say, the 25th; a State-Paper worthy ofattention! By this Document, it would seem great things are in store for France. The universal French People shall now have permission to rally roundBrunswick and his Emigrant Seigneurs; tyranny of a Jacobin Faction shalloppress them no more; but they shall return, and find favour withtheir own good King; who, by Royal Declaration (three years ago) of theTwenty-third of June, said that he would himself make them happy. As forNational Assembly, and other Bodies of Men invested with some temporaryshadow of authority, they are charged to maintain the King's Cities andStrong Places intact, till Brunswick arrive to take delivery of them. Indeed, quick submission may extenuate many things; but to this endit must be quick. Any National Guard or other unmilitary person foundresisting in arms shall be 'treated as a traitor;' that is to say, hanged with promptitude. For the rest, if Paris, before Brunswick getsthither, offer any insult to the King: or, for example, suffer a factionto carry the King away elsewhither; in that case Paris shall be blastedasunder with cannon-shot and 'military execution. ' Likewise all otherCities, which may witness, and not resist to the uttermost, suchforced-march of his Majesty, shall be blasted asunder; and Paris andevery City of them, starting-place, course and goal of said sacrilegiousforced-march, shall, as rubbish and smoking ruin, lie there for a sign. Such vengeance were indeed signal, 'an insigne vengeance:'--O Brunswick, what words thou writest and blusterest! In this Paris, as in oldNineveh, are so many score thousands that know not the right hand fromthe left, and also much cattle. Shall the very milk-cows, hard-livingcadgers'-asses, and poor little canary-birds die? Nor is Royal and Imperial Prussian-Austrian Declaration wanting: settingforth, in the amplest manner, their Sanssouci-Schonbrunn version of thiswhole French Revolution, since the first beginning of it; and withwhat grief these high heads have seen such things done under the Sun:however, 'as some small consolation to mankind, ' (Annual Register(1792), p. 236. ) they do now despatch Brunswick; regardless of expense, as one might say, of sacrifices on their own part; for is it not thefirst duty to console men? Serene Highnesses, who sit there protocolling and manifestoing, andconsoling mankind! how were it if, for once in the thousand years, yourparchments, formularies, and reasons of state were blown to the fourwinds; and Reality Sans-indispensables stared you, even you, in theface; and Mankind said for itself what the thing was that would consoleit?-- Chapter 2. 6. IV. Subterranean. But judge if there was comfort in this to the Sections all sittingpermanent; deliberating how a National Executive could be put in action! High rises the response, not of cackling terror, but of crowingcounter-defiance, and Vive la Nation; young Valour streaming towards theFrontiers; Patrie en Danger mutely beckoning on the Pont Neuf. Sectionsare busy, in their permanent Deep; and down, lower still, worksunlimited Patriotism, seeking salvation in plot. Insurrection, you wouldsay, becomes once more the sacredest of duties? Committee, self-chosen, is sitting at the Sign of the Golden Sun: Journalist Carra, CamilleDesmoulins, Alsatian Westermann friend of Danton, American Fournierof Martinique;--a Committee not unknown to Mayor Petion, who, as anofficial person, must sleep with one eye open. Not unknown to ProcureurManuel; least of all to Procureur-Substitute Danton! He, wrapped indarkness, being also official, bears it on his giant shoulder; cloudyinvisible Atlas of the whole. Much is invisible; the very Jacobins have their reticences. Insurrectionis to be: but when? This only we can discern, that such Federes as arenot yet gone to Soissons, as indeed are not inclined to go yet, "forreasons, " says the Jacobin President, "which it may be interesting notto state, " have got a Central Committee sitting close by, under the roofof the Mother Society herself. Also, what in such ferment and danger ofeffervescence is surely proper, the Forty-eight Sections have got theirCentral Committee; intended 'for prompt communication. ' To which CentralCommittee the Municipality, anxious to have it at hand, could not refusean Apartment in the Hotel-de-Ville. Singular City! For overhead of all this, there is the customary bakingand brewing; Labour hammers and grinds. Frilled promenaders saunterunder the trees; white-muslin promenaderess, in green parasol, leaningon your arm. Dogs dance, and shoeblacks polish, on that Pont Neufitself, where Fatherland is in danger. So much goes its course; and yetthe course of all things is nigh altering and ending. Look at that Tuileries and Tuileries Garden. Silent all as Sahara; noneentering save by ticket! They shut their Gates, after the Day ofthe Black Breeches; a thing they had the liberty to do. However, theNational Assembly grumbled something about Terrace of the Feuillants, how said Terrace lay contiguous to the back entrance to their Salle, andwas partly National Property; and so now National Justice has stretcheda Tricolor Riband athwart, by way of boundary-line, respected withsplenetic strictness by all Patriots. It hangs there that Tricolorboundary-line; carries 'satirical inscriptions on cards, ' generallyin verse; and all beyond this is called Coblentz, and remains vacant;silent, as a fateful Golgotha; sunshine and umbrage alternating on it invain. Fateful Circuit; what hope can dwell in it? Mysterious Ticketsof Entry introduce themselves; speak of Insurrection very imminent. Rivarol's Staff of Genius had better purchase blunderbusses; Grenadierbonnets, red Swiss uniforms may be useful. Insurrection will come; butlikewise will it not be met? Staved off, one may hope, till Brunswickarrive? But consider withal if the Bourne-stones and Portable chairs remainsilent; if the Herald's College of Bill-Stickers sleep! Louvet'sSentinel warns gratis on all walls; Sulleau is busy: People's-FriendMarat and King's-Friend Royou croak and counter-croak. For the manMarat, though long hidden since that Champ-de-Mars Massacre, is stillalive. He has lain, who knows in what Cellars; perhaps in Legendre's;fed by a steak of Legendre's killing: but, since April, the bull-frogvoice of him sounds again; hoarsest of earthly cries. For the present, black terror haunts him: O brave Barbaroux wilt thou not smuggle me toMarseilles, 'disguised as a jockey?' (Barbaroux, p. 60. ) In Palais-Royaland all public places, as we read, there is sharp activity; privateindividuals haranguing that Valour may enlist; haranguing that theExecutive may be put in action. Royalist journals ought to be solemnlyburnt: argument thereupon; debates which generally end in single-stick, coups de cannes. (Newspapers, Narratives and Documents Hist. Parl. Xv. 240; xvi. 399. ) Or think of this; the hour midnight; place Salle deManege; august Assembly just adjourning: 'Citizens of both sexesenter in a rush exclaiming, Vengeance: they are poisoning ourBrothers;'--baking brayed-glass among their bread at Soissons! Vergniaudhas to speak soothing words, How Commissioners are already sent toinvestigate this brayed-glass, and do what is needful therein: till therush of Citizens 'makes profound silence:' and goes home to its bed. Such is Paris; the heart of a France like to it. Preternaturalsuspicion, doubt, disquietude, nameless anticipation, from shore toshore:--and those blackbrowed Marseillese, marching, dusty, unwearied, through the midst of it; not doubtful they. Marching to the grim musicof their hearts, they consume continually the long road, these threeweeks and more; heralded by Terror and Rumour. The Brest Federes arriveon the 26th; through hurrahing streets. Determined men are these also, bearing or not bearing the Sacred Pikes of Chateau-Vieux; and on thewhole decidedly disinclined for Soissons as yet. Surely the MarseilleseBrethren do draw nigher all days. Chapter 2. 6. V. At Dinner. It was a bright day for Charenton, that 29th of the month, when theMarseillese Brethren actually came in sight. Barbaroux, Santerre andPatriots have gone out to meet the grim Wayfarers. Patriot clasps dustyPatriot to his bosom; there is footwashing and refection: 'dinner oftwelve hundred covers at the Blue Dial, Cadran Bleu;' and deepinterior consultation, that one wots not of. (Deux Amis, viii. 90-101. )Consultation indeed which comes to little; for Santerre, with an openpurse, with a loud voice, has almost no head. Here however we reposethis night: on the morrow is public entry into Paris. On which public entry the Day-Historians, Diurnalists, or Journalistsas they call themselves, have preserved record enough. How Saint-Antoinemale and female, and Paris generally, gave brotherly welcome, with bravoand hand-clapping, in crowded streets; and all passed in the peaceablestmanner;--except it might be our Marseillese pointed out here and therea riband-cockade, and beckoned that it should be snatched away, andexchanged for a wool one; which was done. How the Mother Society in abody has come as far as the Bastille-ground, to embrace you. How youthen wend onwards, triumphant, to the Townhall, to be embraced by MayorPetion; to put down your muskets in the Barracks of Nouvelle France, not far off;--then towards the appointed Tavern in the Champs Elysees toenjoy a frugal Patriot repast. (Hist. Parl. Xvi. 196. See Barbaroux, p. 51-5. ) Of all which the indignant Tuileries may, by its Tickets of Entry, havewarning. Red Swiss look doubly sharp to their Chateau-Grates;--thoughsurely there is no danger? Blue Grenadiers of the Filles-Saint-ThomasSection are on duty there this day: men of Agio, as we have seen; withstuffed purses, riband-cockades; among whom serves Weber. A party ofthese latter, with Captains, with sundry Feuillant Notabilities, Moreaude Saint-Mery of the three thousand orders, and others, have beendining, much more respectably, in a Tavern hard by. They have dined, and are now drinking Loyal-Patriotic toasts; while the Marseillese, National-Patriotic merely, are about sitting down to their frugal coversof delf. How it happened remains to this day undemonstrable: but theexternal fact is, certain of these Filles-Saint-Thomas Grenadiers doissue from their Tavern; perhaps touched, surely not yet muddledwith any liquor they have had;--issue in the professed intention oftestifying to the Marseillese, or to the multitude of Paris Patriots whostroll in these spaces, That they, the Filles-Saint-Thomas men, if wellseen into, are not a whit less Patriotic than any other class of menwhatever. It was a rash errand! For how can the strolling multitudes credit sucha thing; or do other indeed than hoot at it, provoking, andprovoked;--till Grenadier sabres stir in the scabbard, and a sharpshriek rises: "A nous Marseillais, Help Marseillese!" Quick aslightning, for the frugal repast is not yet served, that MarseilleseTavern flings itself open: by door, by window; running, bounding, vault forth the Five hundred and Seventeen undined Patriots; and, sabreflashing from thigh, are on the scene of controversy. Will ye parley, ye Grenadier Captains and official Persons; 'with faces grown suddenlypale, ' the Deponents say? (Moniteur, Seances du 30, du 31 Juillet 1792Hist. Parl. Xvi. 197-210. ) Advisabler were instant moderately swiftretreat! The Filles-Saint-Thomas retreat, back foremost; then, alas, face foremost, at treble-quick time; the Marseillese, according toa Deponent, "clearing the fences and ditches after them like lions:Messieurs, it was an imposing spectacle. " Thus they retreat, the Marseillese following. Swift and swifter, towardsthe Tuileries: where the Drawbridge receives the bulk of the fugitives;and, then suddenly drawn up, saves them; or else the green mud of theDitch does it. The bulk of them; not all; ah, no! Moreau de Saint-Meryfor example, being too fat, could not fly fast; he got a stroke, flat-stroke only, over the shoulder-blades, and fell prone;--anddisappears there from the History of the Revolution. Cuts also therewere, pricks in the posterior fleshy parts; much rending of skirts, and other discrepant waste. But poor Sub-lieutenant Duhamel, innocentChange-broker, what a lot for him! He turned on his pursuer, orpursuers, with a pistol; he fired and missed; drew a second pistol, and again fired and missed; then ran: unhappily in vain. In the RueSaint-Florentin, they clutched him; thrust him through, in red rage:that was the end of the New Era, and of all Eras, to poor Duhamel. Pacific readers can fancy what sort of grace-before-meat this was tofrugal Patriotism. Also how the Battalion of the Filles-Saint-Thomas'drew out in arms, ' luckily without further result; how there wasaccusation at the Bar of the Assembly, and counter-accusation anddefence; Marseillese challenging the sentence of free jury court, --whichnever got to a decision. We ask rather, What the upshot of all thesedistracted wildly accumulating things may, by probability, be? Someupshot; and the time draws nigh! Busy are Central Committees, of Federesat the Jacobins Church, of Sections at the Townhall; Reunion of Carra, Camille and Company at the Golden Sun. Busy: like submarine deities, orcall them mud-gods, working there in the deep murk of waters: till thething be ready. And how your National Assembly, like a ship waterlogged, helmless, lies tumbling; the Galleries, of shrill Women, of Federes with sabres, bellowing down on it, not unfrightful;--and waits where the wavesof chance may please to strand it; suspicious, nay on the Left side, conscious, what submarine Explosion is meanwhile a-charging! Petitionfor King's Forfeiture rises often there: Petition from Paris Section, from Provincial Patriot Towns; From Alencon, Briancon, and 'the Tradersat the Fair of Beaucaire. ' Or what of these? On the 3rd of August, Mayor Petion and the Municipality come petitioning for Forfeiture:they openly, in their tricolor Municipal scarfs. Forfeiture is what allPatriots now want and expect. All Brissotins want Forfeiture; with thelittle Prince Royal for King, and us for Protector over him. EmphaticFederes asks the legislature: "Can you save us, or not?" Forty-sevenSeconds have agreed to Forfeiture; only that of the Filles-Saint-Thomaspretending to disagree. Nay Section Mauconseil declares Forfeiture tobe, properly speaking, come; Mauconseil for one 'does from this day, 'the last of July, 'cease allegiance to Louis, ' and take minute of thesame before all men. A thing blamed aloud; but which will be praisedaloud; and the name Mauconseil, of Ill-counsel, be thenceforth changedto Bonconseil, of Good-counsel. President Danton, in the Cordeliers Section, does another thing: invitesall Passive Citizens to take place among the Active in Section-business, one peril threatening all. Thus he, though an official person; cloudyAtlas of the whole. Likewise he manages to have that blackbrowedBattalion of Marseillese shifted to new Barracks, in his own region ofthe remote South-East. Sleek Chaumette, cruel Billaud, Deputy Chabotthe Disfrocked, Huguenin with the tocsin in his heart, will welcome themthere. Wherefore, again and again: "O Legislators, can you save us ornot?" Poor Legislators; with their Legislature waterlogged, volcanicExplosion charging under it! Forfeiture shall be debated on the ninthday of August; that miserable business of Lafayette may be expected toterminate on the eighth. Or will the humane Reader glance into the Levee-day of Sunday the fifth?The last Levee! Not for a long time, 'never, ' says Bertrand-Moleville, had a Levee been so brilliant, at least so crowded. A sad presaginginterest sat on every face; Bertrand's own eyes were filled with tears. For, indeed, outside of that Tricolor Riband on the Feuillants Terrace, Legislature is debating, Sections are defiling, all Paris is astirthis very Sunday, demanding Decheance. (Hist. Parl. Xvi. 337-9. )Here, however, within the riband, a grand proposal is on foot, forthe hundredth time, of carrying his Majesty to Rouen and the Castle ofGaillon. Swiss at Courbevoye are in readiness; much is ready; Majestyhimself seems almost ready. Nevertheless, for the hundredth time, Majesty, when near the point of action, draws back; writes, after onehas waited, palpitating, an endless summer day, that 'he has reasonto believe the Insurrection is not so ripe as you suppose. ' WhereatBertrand-Moleville breaks forth 'into extremity at one of spleen anddespair, d'humeur et de desespoir. ' (Bertrand-Moleville, Memoires, ii. 129. ) Chapter 2. 6. VI. The Steeples at Midnight. For, in truth, the Insurrection is just about ripe. Thursday is theninth of the month August: if Forfeiture be not pronounced by theLegislature that day, we must pronounce it ourselves. Legislature? A poor waterlogged Legislature can pronounce nothing. OnWednesday the eighth, after endless oratory once again, they cannoteven pronounce Accusation again Lafayette; but absolve him, --hearit, Patriotism!--by a majority of two to one. Patriotism hears it;Patriotism, hounded on by Prussian Terror, by Preternatural Suspicion, roars tumultuous round the Salle de Manege, all day; insults manyleading Deputies, of the absolvent Right-side; nay chases them, collarsthem with loud menace: Deputy Vaublanc, and others of the like, are gladto take refuge in Guardhouses, and escape by the back window. And so, next day, there is infinite complaint; Letter after Letter from insultedDeputy; mere complaint, debate and self-cancelling jargon: the sun ofThursday sets like the others, and no Forfeiture pronounced. Whereforein fine, To your tents, O Israel! The Mother-Society ceases speaking; groups cease haranguing: Patriots, with closed lips now, 'take one another's arm;' walk off, in rows, twoand two, at a brisk business-pace; and vanish afar in the obscure placesof the East. (Deux Amis, viii. 129-88. ) Santerre is ready; or we willmake him ready. Forty-seven of the Forty-eight Sections are ready; nayFilles-Saint-Thomas itself turns up the Jacobin side of it, turns downthe Feuillant side of it, and is ready too. Let the unlimited Patriotlook to his weapon, be it pike, be it firelock; and the Brest brethren, above all, the blackbrowed Marseillese prepare themselves for theextreme hour! Syndic Roederer knows, and laments or not as the issue mayturn, that 'five thousand ball-cartridges, within these few days, havebeen distributed to Federes, at the Hotel-de-Ville. ' (Roederer a laBarre, Seance du 9 Aout in Hist. Parl. Xvi. 393. ) And ye likewise, gallant gentlemen, defenders of Royalty, crowd ye onyour side to the Tuileries. Not to a Levee: no, to a Couchee: where muchwill be put to bed. Your Tickets of Entry are needful; needfuller yourblunderbusses!--They come and crowd, like gallant men who also know howto die: old Maille the Camp-Marshal has come, his eyes gleaming onceagain, though dimmed by the rheum of almost four-score years. Courage, Brothers! We have a thousand red Swiss; men stanch of heart, steadfastas the granite of their Alps. National Grenadiers are at least friendsof Order; Commandant Mandat breathes loyal ardour, will "answer for iton his head. " Mandat will, and his Staff; for the Staff, though therestands a doom and Decree to that effect, is happily never yet dissolved. Commandant Mandat has corresponded with Mayor Petion; carries a writtenOrder from him these three days, to repel force by force. A squadronon the Pont Neuf with cannon shall turn back these Marseillese comingacross the River: a squadron at the Townhall shall cut Saint-Antoine intwo, 'as it issues from the Arcade Saint-Jean;' drive one half back tothe obscure East, drive the other half forward through 'the Wickets ofthe Louvre. ' Squadrons not a few, and mounted squadrons; squadrons inthe Palais Royal, in the Place Vendome: all these shall charge, at theright moment; sweep this street, and then sweep that. Some new Twentiethof June we shall have; only still more ineffectual? Or probablythe Insurrection will not dare to rise at all? Mandat's Squadrons, Horse-Gendarmerie and blue Guards march, clattering, tramping; Mandat'sCannoneers rumble. Under cloud of night; to the sound of his generale, which begins drumming when men should go to bed. It is the 9th night ofAugust, 1792. On the other hand, the Forty-eight Sections correspond by swiftmessengers; are choosing each their 'three Delegates with full powers. 'Syndic Roederer, Mayor Petion are sent for to the Tuileries: courageousLegislators, when the drum beats danger, should repair to theirSalle. Demoiselle Theroigne has on her grenadier-bonnet, short-skirtedriding-habit; two pistols garnish her small waist, and sabre hangs inbaldric by her side. Such a game is playing in this Paris Pandemonium, or City of All theDevils!--And yet the Night, as Mayor Petion walks here in the TuileriesGarden, 'is beautiful and calm;' Orion and the Pleiades glitterdown quite serene. Petion has come forth, the 'heat' inside was sooppressive. (Roederer, Chronique de Cinquante Jours: Recit de Petion. Townhall Records, &c. In Hist. Parl. Xvi. 399-466. ) Indeed, hisMajesty's reception of him was of the roughest; as it well might be. Andnow there is no outgate; Mandat's blue Squadrons turn you back at everyGrate; nay the Filles-Saint-Thomas Grenadiers give themselves libertiesof tongue, How a virtuous Mayor 'shall pay for it, if there bemischief, ' and the like; though others again are full of civility. Surely if any man in France is in straights this night, it is MayorPetion: bound, under pain of death, one may say, to smile dexterouslywith the one side of his face, and weep with the other;--death if he doit not dexterously enough! Not till four in the morning does a NationalAssembly, hearing of his plight, summon him over 'to give account ofParis;' of which he knows nothing: whereby however he shall get home tobed, and only his gilt coach be left. Scarcely less delicate is SyndicRoederer's task; who must wait whether he will lament or not, till hesee the issue. Janus Bifrons, or Mr. Facing-both-ways, as vernacularBunyan has it! They walk there, in the meanwhile, these two Januses, with others of the like double conformation; and 'talk of indifferentmatters. ' Roederer, from time to time, steps in; to listen, to speak; to send forthe Department-Directory itself, he their Procureur Syndic not seeinghow to act. The Apartments are all crowded; some seven hundred gentlemenin black elbowing, bustling; red Swiss standing like rocks; ghost, orpartial-ghost of a Ministry, with Roederer and advisers, hovering roundtheir Majesties; old Marshall Maille kneeling at the King's feet, tosay, He and these gallant gentlemen are come to die for him. List!through the placid midnight; clang of the distant stormbell! So, in verysooth; steeple after steeple takes up the wondrous tale. Black Courtierslisten at the windows, opened for air; discriminate the steeple-bells:(Roederer, ubi supra. ) this is the tocsin of Saint-Roch; that again, is it not Saint-Jacques, named de la Boucherie? Yes, Messieurs! Or evenSaint-Germain l'Auxerrois, hear ye it not? The same metal that rangstorm, two hundred and twenty years ago; but by a Majesty's orderthen; on Saint-Bartholomew's Eve (24th August, 1572. )--So go thesteeple-bells; which Courtiers can discriminate. Nay, meseems, there isthe Townhall itself; we know it by its sound! Yes, Friends, that isthe Townhall; discoursing so, to the Night. Miraculously; by miraculousmetal-tongue and man's arm: Marat himself, if you knew it, is pulling atthe rope there! Marat is pulling; Robespierre lies deep, invisible forthe next forty hours; and some men have heart, and some have as good asnone, and not even frenzy will give them any. What struggling confusion, as the issue slowly draws on; and thedoubtful Hour, with pain and blind struggle, brings forth its Certainty, never to be abolished!--The Full-power Delegates, three from eachSection, a Hundred and forty-four in all, got gathered at the Townhall, about midnight. Mandat's Squadron, stationed there, did not hinder theirentering: are they not the 'Central Committee of the Sections' who sithere usually; though in greater number tonight? They are there: presidedby Confusion, Irresolution, and the Clack of Tongues. Swift scoutsfly; Rumour buzzes, of black Courtiers, red Swiss, of Mandat and hisSquadrons that shall charge. Better put off the Insurrection? Yes, putit off. Ha, hark! Saint-Antoine booming out eloquent tocsin, of its ownaccord!--Friends, no: ye cannot put off the Insurrection; but must putit on, and live with it, or die with it. Swift now, therefore: let these actual Old Municipals, on sight of theFull-powers, and mandate of the Sovereign elective People, lay downtheir functions; and this New Hundred and forty-four take them up! Willye nill ye, worthy Old Municipals, ye must go. Nay is it not a happinessfor many a Municipal that he can wash his hands of such a business; andsit there paralyzed, unaccountable, till the Hour do bring forth; oreven go home to his night's rest? (Section Documents, Townhall Documents, Hist. Parl. Ubi supra. ) Two only of the Old, or at most three, weretain Mayor Petion, for the present walking in the Tuileries; ProcureurManuel; Procureur Substitute Danton, invisible Atlas of the whole. Andso, with our Hundred and forty-four, among whom are a Tocsin-Huguenin, a Billaud, a Chaumette; and Editor-Talliens, and Fabre d'Eglantines, Sergents, Panises; and in brief, either emergent, or else emerged andfull-blown, the entire Flower of unlimited Patriotism: have we not, asby magic, made a New Municipality; ready to act in the unlimited manner;and declare itself roundly, 'in a State of Insurrection!'--First of all, then, be Commandant Mandat sent for, with that Mayor's-Order of his;also let the New Municipals visit those Squadrons that were to charge;and let the stormbell ring its loudest;--and, on the whole, Forward, yeHundred and forty-four; retreat is now none for you! Reader, fancy not, in thy languid way, that Insurrection is easy. Insurrection is difficult: each individual uncertain even of his nextneighbour; totally uncertain of his distant neighbours, what strengthis with him, what strength is against him; certain only that, in case offailure, his individual portion is the gallows! Eight hundred thousandheads, and in each of them a separate estimate of these uncertainties, a separate theorem of action conformable to that: out of so manyuncertainties, does the certainty, and inevitable net-result never tobe abolished, go on, at all moments, bodying itself forth;--leading theealso towards civic-crowns or an ignominious noose. Could the Reader take an Asmodeus's Flight, and waving open all roofsand privacies, look down from the Tower of Notre Dame, what a Paris wereit! Of treble-voice whimperings or vehemence, of bass-voice growlings, dubitations; Courage screwing itself to desperate defiance; Cowardicetrembling silent within barred doors;--and all round, Dulness calmlysnoring; for much Dulness, flung on its mattresses, always sleeps. O, between the clangour of these high-storming tocsins and that snore ofDulness, what a gamut: of trepidation, excitation, desperation; andabove it mere Doubt, Danger, Atropos and Nox! Fighters of this section draw out; hear that the next Section doesnot; and thereupon draw in. Saint-Antoine, on this side the River, isuncertain of Saint-Marceau on that. Steady only is the snore of Dulness, are the Six Hundred Marseillese that know how to die! Mandat, twicesummoned to the Townhall, has not come. Scouts fly incessant, indistracted haste; and the many-whispering voices of Rumour. Theroigneand unofficial Patriots flit, dim-visible, exploratory, far and wide;like Night-birds on the wing. Of Nationals some Three thousand havefollowed Mandat and his generale; the rest follow each his own theoremof the uncertainties: theorem, that one should march rather withSaint-Antoine; innumerable theorems, that in such a case the wholesomestwere sleep. And so the drums beat, in made fits, and the stormbellspeal. Saint-Antoine itself does but draw out and draw in; CommandantSanterre, over there, cannot believe that the Marseillese and SaintMarceau will march. Thou laggard sonorous Beer-vat, with the loud voiceand timber head, is it time now to palter? Alsatian Westermann clutcheshim by the throat with drawn sabre: whereupon the Timber-headedbelieves. In this manner wanes the slow night; amid fret, uncertaintyand tocsin; all men's humour rising to the hysterical pitch; and nothingdone. However, Mandat, on the third summons does come;--come, unguarded;astonished to find the Municipality new. They question him straitly onthat Mayor's-Order to resist force by force; on that strategic scheme ofcutting Saint-Antoine in two halves: he answers what he can: they thinkit were right to send this strategic National Commandant to the AbbayePrison, and let a Court of Law decide on him. Alas, a Court of Law, notBook-Law but primeval Club-Law, crowds and jostles out of doors; allfretted to the hysterical pitch; cruel as Fear, blind as the Night: suchCourt of Law, and no other, clutches poor Mandat from his constables;beats him down, massacres him, on the steps of the Townhall. Look to it, ye new Municipals; ye People, in a state of Insurrection! Blood is shed, blood must be answered for;--alas, in such hysterical humour, more bloodwill flow: for it is as with the Tiger in that; he has only to begin. Seventeen Individuals have been seized in the Champs Elysees, byexploratory Patriotism; they flitting dim-visible, by it flittingdim-visible. Ye have pistols, rapiers, ye Seventeen? One of thoseaccursed 'false Patrols;' that go marauding, with Anti-National intent;seeking what they can spy, what they can spill! The Seventeen arecarried to the nearest Guard-house; eleven of them escape by backpassages. "How is this?" Demoiselle Theroigne appears at the frontentrance, with sabre, pistols, and a train; denounces treasonousconnivance; demands, seizes, the remaining six, that the justice of thePeople be not trifled with. Of which six two more escape in the whirland debate of the Club-Law Court; the last unhappy Four are massacred, as Mandat was: Two Ex-Bodyguards; one dissipated Abbe; one RoyalistPamphleteer, Sulleau, known to us by name, Able Editor, and wit of allwork. Poor Sulleau: his Acts of the Apostles, and brisk Placard-Journals(for he was an able man) come to Finis, in this manner; and questionablejesting issues suddenly in horrid earnest! Such doings usher in the dawnof the Tenth of August, 1792. Or think what a night the poor National Assembly has had: sitting there, 'in great paucity, ' attempting to debate;--quivering and shivering;pointing towards all the thirty-two azimuths at once, as themagnet-needle does when thunderstorm is in the air! If the Insurrectioncome? If it come, and fail? Alas, in that case, may not black Courtiers, with blunderbusses, red Swiss with bayonets rush over, flushed withvictory, and ask us: Thou undefinable, waterlogged, self-distractive, self-destructive Legislative, what dost thou here unsunk?--Or figurethe poor National Guards, bivouacking 'in temporary tents' there; orstanding ranked, shifting from leg to leg, all through the weary night;New tricolor Municipals ordering one thing, old Mandat Captains orderinganother! Procureur Manuel has ordered the cannons to be withdrawn fromthe Pont Neuf; none ventured to disobey him. It seemed certain, then, the old Staff so long doomed has finally been dissolved, in thesehours; and Mandat is not our Commandant now, but Santerre? Yes, friends:Santerre henceforth, --surely Mandat no more! The Squadrons that were tocharge see nothing certain, except that they are cold, hungry, worn downwith watching; that it were sad to slay French brothers; sadder tobe slain by them. Without the Tuileries Circuit, and within it, souruncertain humour sways these men: only the red Swiss stand steadfast. Them their officers refresh now with a slight wetting of brandy; whereinthe Nationals, too far gone for brandy, refuse to participate. King Louis meanwhile had laid him down for a little sleep: his wig whenhe reappeared had lost the powder on one side. (Roederer, ubi supra. )Old Marshal Maille and the gentlemen in black rise always in spirits, as the Insurrection does not rise: there goes a witty saying now, "Letocsin ne rend pas. " The tocsin, like a dry milk-cow, does not yield. For the rest, could one not proclaim Martial Law? Not easily; fornow, it seems, Mayor Petion is gone. On the other hand, our InterimCommandant, poor Mandat being off, 'to the Hotel-de-Ville, ' complainsthat so many Courtiers in black encumber the service, are an eyesorrowto the National Guards. To which her Majesty answers with emphasis, Thatthey will obey all, will suffer all, that they are sure men these. And so the yellow lamplight dies out in the gray of morning, in theKing's Palace, over such a scene. Scene of jostling, elbowing, ofconfusion, and indeed conclusion, for the thing is about to end. Roederer and spectral Ministers jostle in the press; consult, in sidecabinets, with one or with both Majesties. Sister Elizabeth takes theQueen to the window: "Sister, see what a beautiful sunrise, " right overthe Jacobins church and that quarter! How happy if the tocsin did notyield! But Mandat returns not; Petion is gone: much hangs wavering inthe invisible Balance. About five o'clock, there rises from the Garden akind of sound; as of a shout to which had become a howl, and insteadof Vive le Roi were ending in Vive la Nation. "Mon Dieu!" ejaculates aspectral Minister, "what is he doing down there?" For it is his Majesty, gone down with old Marshal Maille to review the troops; and the nearestcompanies of them answer so. Her Majesty bursts into a stream of tears. Yet on stepping from the cabinet her eyes are dry and calm, her lookis even cheerful. 'The Austrian lip, and the aquiline nose, fuller thanusual, gave to her countenance, ' says Peltier, (in Toulongeon, ii. 241. )'something of Majesty, which they that did not see her in these momentscannot well have an idea of. ' O thou Theresa's Daughter! King Louis enters, much blown with the fatigue; but for the rest withhis old air of indifference. Of all hopes now surely the joyfullestwere, that the tocsin did not yield. Chapter 2. 6. VII. The Swiss. Unhappy Friends, the tocsin does yield, has yielded! Lo ye, how withthe first sun-rays its Ocean-tide, of pikes and fusils, flows glitteringfrom the far East;--immeasurable; born of the Night! They march there, the grim host; Saint-Antoine on this side of the River; Saint-Marceau onthat, the blackbrowed Marseillese in the van. With hum, and grim murmur, far-heard; like the Ocean-tide, as we say: drawn up, as if by Luna andInfluences, from the great Deep of Waters, they roll gleaming on;no King, Canute or Louis, can bid them roll back. Wide-eddyingside-currents, of onlookers, roll hither and thither, unarmed, notvoiceless; they, the steel host, roll on. New-Commandant Santerre, indeed, has taken seat at the Townhall; rests there, in hishalf-way-house. Alsatian Westermann, with flashing sabre, does not rest;nor the Sections, nor the Marseillese, nor Demoiselle Theroigne; butroll continually on. And now, where are Mandat's Squadrons that were to charge? Not aSquadron of them stirs: or they stir in the wrong direction, out of theway; their officers glad that they will even do that. It is to thishour uncertain whether the Squadron on the Pont Neuf made the shadowof resistance, or did not make the shadow: enough, the blackbrowedMarseillese, and Saint-Marceau following them, do cross without let;do cross, in sure hope now of Saint-Antoine and the rest; do billow on, towards the Tuileries, where their errand is. The Tuileries, at sound ofthem, rustles responsive: the red Swiss look to their priming; Courtiersin black draw their blunderbusses, rapiers, poniards, some have evenfire-shovels; every man his weapon of war. Judge if, in these circumstances, Syndic Roederer felt easy! Will thekind Heavens open no middle-course of refuge for a poor Syndic whohalts between two? If indeed his Majesty would consent to go over to theAssembly! His Majesty, above all her Majesty, cannot agree to that. Didher Majesty answer the proposal with a "Fi donc;" did she say even, shewould be nailed to the walls sooner? Apparently not. It is written alsothat she offered the King a pistol; saying, Now or else never was thetime to shew himself. Close eye-witnesses did not see it, nor do we. That saw only that she was queenlike, quiet; that she argued not, upbraided not, with the Inexorable; but, like Caesar in the Capitol, wrapped her mantle, as it beseems Queens and Sons of Adam to do. Butthou, O Louis! of what stuff art thou at all? Is there no stroke inthee, then, for Life and Crown? The silliest hunted deer dies not so. Art thou the languidest of all mortals; or the mildest-minded? Thou artthe worst-starred. The tide advances; Syndic Roederer's and all men's straits grow straiterand straiter. Fremescent clangor comes from the armed Nationals in theCourt; far and wide is the infinite hubbub of tongues. What counsel? Andthe tide is now nigh! Messengers, forerunners speak hastily through theouter Grates; hold parley sitting astride the walls. Syndic Roederergoes out and comes in. Cannoneers ask him: Are we to fire against thepeople? King's Ministers ask him: Shall the King's House be forced?Syndic Roederer has a hard game to play. He speaks to the Cannoneerswith eloquence, with fervour; such fervour as a man can, who has to blowhot and cold in one breath. Hot and cold, O Roederer? We, for our part, cannot live and die! The Cannoneers, by way of answer, fling down theirlinstocks. --Think of this answer, O King Louis, and King's Ministers:and take a poor Syndic's safe middle-course, towards the Salle deManege. King Louis sits, his hands leant on knees, body bent forward;gazes for a space fixedly on Syndic Roederer; then answers, lookingover his shoulder to the Queen: Marchons! They march; King Louis, Queen, Sister Elizabeth, the two royal children and governess: these, withSyndic Roederer, and Officials of the Department; amid a double rank ofNational Guards. The men with blunderbusses, the steady red Swissgaze mournfully, reproachfully; but hear only these words from SyndicRoederer: "The King is going to the Assembly; make way. " It hasstruck eight, on all clocks, some minutes ago: the King has left theTuileries--for ever. O ye stanch Swiss, ye gallant gentlemen in black, for what a cause areye to spend and be spent! Look out from the western windows, ye maysee King Louis placidly hold on his way; the poor little Prince Royal'sportfully kicking the fallen leaves. ' Fremescent multitude on theTerrace of the Feuillants whirls parallel to him; one man in it, verynoisy, with a long pole: will they not obstruct the outer Staircase, andback-entrance of the Salle, when it comes to that? King's Guards cango no further than the bottom step there. Lo, Deputation of Legislatorscome out; he of the long pole is stilled by oratory; Assembly's Guardsjoin themselves to King's Guards, and all may mount in this case ofnecessity; the outer Staircase is free, or passable. See, Royaltyascends; a blue Grenadier lifts the poor little Prince Royal from thepress; Royalty has entered in. Royalty has vanished for ever fromyour eyes. --And ye? Left standing there, amid the yawning abysses, and earthquake of Insurrection; without course; without command: if yeperish it must be as more than martyrs, as martyrs who are now without acause! The black Courtiers disappear mostly; through such issues as theycan. The poor Swiss know not how to act: one duty only is clear to them, that of standing by their post; and they will perform that. But the glittering steel tide has arrived; it beats now against theChateau barriers, and eastern Courts; irresistible, loud-surging farand wide;--breaks in, fills the Court of the Carrousel, blackbrowedMarseillese in the van. King Louis gone, say you; over to the Assembly!Well and good: but till the Assembly pronounce Forfeiture of him, whatboots it? Our post is in that Chateau or stronghold of his; there tillthen must we continue. Think, ye stanch Swiss, whether it were goodthat grim murder began, and brothers blasted one another in pieces for astone edifice?--Poor Swiss! they know not how to act: from the southernwindows, some fling cartridges, in sign of brotherhood; on the easternouter staircase, and within through long stairs and corridors, theystand firm-ranked, peaceable and yet refusing to stir. Westermann speaksto them in Alsatian German; Marseillese plead, in hot Provencal speechand pantomime; stunning hubbub pleads and threatens, infinite, around. The Swiss stand fast, peaceable and yet immovable; red granite pier inthat waste-flashing sea of steel. Who can help the inevitable issue; Marseillese and all France, on thisside; granite Swiss on that? The pantomime grows hotter and hotter;Marseillese sabres flourishing by way of action; the Swiss brow alsoclouding itself, the Swiss thumb bringing its firelock to the cock. Andhark! high-thundering above all the din, three Marseillese cannon fromthe Carrousel, pointed by a gunner of bad aim, come rattling over theroofs! Ye Swiss, therefore: Fire! The Swiss fire; by volley, by platoon, in rolling-fire: Marseillese men not a few, and 'a tall man that waslouder than any, ' lie silent, smashed, upon the pavement;--not a fewMarseillese, after the long dusty march, have made halt here. TheCarrousel is void; the black tide recoiling; 'fugitives rushing as faras Saint-Antoine before they stop. ' The Cannoneers without linstock havesquatted invisible, and left their cannon; which the Swiss seize. Think what a volley: reverberating doomful to the four corners ofParis, and through all hearts; like the clang of Bellona's thongs! Theblackbrowed Marseillese, rallying on the instant, have become blackDemons that know how to die. Nor is Brest behind-hand; nor AlsatianWestermann; Demoiselle Theroigne is Sybil Theroigne: VengeanceVictoire, ou la mort! From all Patriot artillery, great and small;from Feuillants Terrace, and all terraces and places of the widespreadInsurrectionary sea, there roars responsive a red whirlwind. BlueNationals, ranked in the Garden, cannot help their muskets going off, against Foreign murderers. For there is a sympathy in muskets, in heapedmasses of men: nay, are not Mankind, in whole, like tuned strings, anda cunning infinite concordance and unity; you smite one string, andall strings will begin sounding, --in soft sphere-melody, in deafeningscreech of madness! Mounted Gendarmerie gallop distracted; are fired onmerely as a thing running; galloping over the Pont Royal, or one knowsnot whither. The brain of Paris, brain-fevered in the centre of it here, has gone mad; what you call, taken fire. Behold, the fire slackens not; nor does the Swiss rolling-fire slackenfrom within. Nay they clutched cannon, as we saw: and now, fromthe other side, they clutch three pieces more; alas, cannon withoutlinstock; nor will the steel-and-flint answer, though they try it. (DeuxAmis, viii. 179-88. ) Had it chanced to answer! Patriot onlookers havetheir misgivings; one strangest Patriot onlooker thinks that the Swiss, had they a commander, would beat. He is a man not unqualified to judge;the name of him is Napoleon Buonaparte. (See Hist. Parl. (xvii. 56); LasCases, &c. ) And onlookers, and women, stand gazing, and the witty Dr. Moore of Glasgow among them, on the other side of the River: cannonrush rumbling past them; pause on the Pont Royal; belch out their ironentrails there, against the Tuileries; and at every new belch, the womenand onlookers shout and clap hands. (Moore, Journal during a Residencein France (Dublin, 1793), i. 26. ) City of all the Devils! In remotestreets, men are drinking breakfast-coffee; following their affairs;with a start now and then, as some dull echo reverberates a notelouder. And here? Marseillese fall wounded; but Barbaroux has surgeons;Barbaroux is close by, managing, though underhand, and under cover. Marseillese fall death-struck; bequeath their firelock, specify in whichpocket are the cartridges; and die, murmuring, "Revenge me, Revenge thycountry!" Brest Federe Officers, galloping in red coats, are shot asSwiss. Lo you, the Carrousel has burst into flame!--Paris Pandemonium!Nay the poor City, as we said, is in fever-fit and convulsion; suchcrisis has lasted for the space of some half hour. But what is this that, with Legislative Insignia, ventures through thehubbub and death-hail, from the back-entrance of the Manege? Towards theTuileries and Swiss: written Order from his Majesty to cease firing! Oye hapless Swiss, why was there no order not to begin it? Gladly wouldthe Swiss cease firing: but who will bid mad Insurrection cease firing?To Insurrection you cannot speak; neither can it, hydra-headed, hear. The dead and dying, by the hundred, lie all around; are borne bleedingthrough the streets, towards help; the sight of them, like a torch ofthe Furies, kindling Madness. Patriot Paris roars; as the bear bereavedof her whelps. On, ye Patriots: vengeance! victory or death! There aremen seen, who rush on, armed only with walking-sticks. (Hist. Parl. Ubisupra. Rapport du Captaine des Canonniers, Rapport du Commandant, &c. Ibid. Xvii. 300-18. ) Terror and Fury rule the hour. The Swiss, pressed on from without, paralyzed from within, have ceasedto shoot; but not to be shot. What shall they do? Desperate is themoment. Shelter or instant death: yet How? Where? One party flies outby the Rue de l'Echelle; is destroyed utterly, 'en entier. ' A second, bythe other side, throws itself into the Garden; 'hurrying across a keenfusillade:' rushes suppliant into the National Assembly; finds pity andrefuge in the back benches there. The third, and largest, darts out incolumn, three hundred strong, towards the Champs Elysees: Ah, could webut reach Courbevoye, where other Swiss are! Wo! see, in such fusilladethe column 'soon breaks itself by diversity of opinion, ' into distractedsegments, this way and that;--to escape in holes, to die fighting fromstreet to street. The firing and murdering will not cease; not yet forlong. The red Porters of Hotels are shot at, be they Suisse by nature, or Suisse only in name. The very Firemen, who pump and labour on thatsmoking Carrousel, are shot at; why should the Carrousel not burn? SomeSwiss take refuge in private houses; find that mercy too does stilldwell in the heart of man. The brave Marseillese are merciful, late sowroth; and labour to save. Journalist Gorsas pleads hard with enfuriatedgroups. Clemence, the Wine-merchant, stumbles forward to the Bar of theAssembly, a rescued Swiss in his hand; tells passionately how he rescuedhim with pain and peril, how he will henceforth support him, beingchildless himself; and falls a swoon round the poor Swiss's neck: amidplaudits. But the most are butchered, and even mangled. Fifty (somesay Fourscore) were marched as prisoners, by National Guards, to theHotel-de-Ville: the ferocious people bursts through on them, in thePlace de Greve; massacres them to the last man. 'O Peuple, envy of theuniverse!' Peuple, in mad Gaelic effervescence! Surely few things in the history of carnage are painfuller. Whatineffaceable red streak, flickering so sad in the memory, is that, of this poor column of red Swiss 'breaking itself in the confusion ofopinions;' dispersing, into blackness and death! Honour to you, bravemen; honourable pity, through long times! Not martyrs were ye; and yetalmost more. He was no King of yours, this Louis; and he forsook youlike a King of shreds and patches; ye were but sold to him for some poorsixpence a-day; yet would ye work for your wages, keep your plightedword. The work now was to die; and ye did it. Honour to you, O Kinsmen;and may the old Deutsch Biederheit and Tapferkeit, and Valour whichis Worth and Truth be they Swiss, be they Saxon, fail in no age! Notbastards; true-born were these men; sons of the men of Sempach, ofMurten, who knelt, but not to thee, O Burgundy!--Let the traveller, as he passes through Lucerne, turn aside to look a little at theirmonumental Lion; not for Thorwaldsen's sake alone. Hewn out of livingrock, the Figure rests there, by the still Lake-waters, in lullaby ofdistant-tinkling rance-des-vaches, the granite Mountains dumbly keepingwatch all round; and, though inanimate, speaks. Chapter 2. 6. VIII. Constitution burst in Pieces. Thus is the Tenth of August won and lost. Patriotism reckons itsslain by thousand on thousand, so deadly was the Swiss fire from thesewindows; but will finally reduce them to some Twelve hundred. No child'splay was it;--nor is it! Till two in the afternoon the massacring, thebreaking and the burning has not ended; nor the loose Bedlam shut itselfagain. How deluges of frantic Sansculottism roared through all passages of thisTuileries, ruthless in vengeance, how the Valets were butchered, hewndown; and Dame Campan saw the Marseilles sabre flash over her head, butthe Blackbrowed said, "Va-t-en, Get thee gone, " and flung her from himunstruck: (Campan, ii. C. 21. ) how in the cellars wine-bottles werebroken, wine-butts were staved in and drunk; and, upwards to the verygarrets, all windows tumbled out their precious royal furnitures; and, with gold mirrors, velvet curtains, down of ript feather-beds, and deadbodies of men, the Tuileries was like no Garden of the Earth:--allthis let him who has a taste for it see amply in Mercier, in acridMontgaillard, or Beaulieu of the Deux Amis. A hundred and eightybodies of Swiss lie piled there; naked, unremoved till the second day. Patriotism has torn their red coats into snips; and marches with them atthe Pike's point: the ghastly bare corpses lie there, under the sun andunder the stars; the curious of both sexes crowding to look. Whichlet not us do. Above a hundred carts heaped with Dead fare towards theCemetery of Sainte-Madeleine; bewailed, bewept; for all had kindred, allhad mothers, if not here, then there. It is one of those Carnage-fields, such as you read of by the name 'Glorious Victory, ' brought home in thiscase to one's own door. But the blackbrowed Marseillese have struck down the Tyrant of theChateau. He is struck down; low, and hardly to rise. What a momentfor an august Legislative was that when the Hereditary Representativeentered, under such circumstances; and the Grenadier, carryingthe little Prince Royal out of the Press, set him down on theAssembly-table! A moment, --which one had to smooth off with oratory;waiting what the next would bring! Louis said few words: "He was comehither to prevent a great crime; he believed himself safer nowhere thanhere. " President Vergniaud answered briefly, in vague oratory as we say, about "defence of Constituted Authorities, " about dying at our post. (Moniteur, Seance du 10 Aout 1792. ) And so King Louis sat him down;first here, then there; for a difficulty arose, the Constitution notpermitting us to debate while the King is present: finally he settleshimself with his Family in the 'Loge of the Logographe' in theReporter's-Box of a Journalist: which is beyond the enchantedConstitutional Circuit, separated from it by a rail. To such Lodge ofthe Logographe, measuring some ten feet square, with a small closet atthe entrance of it behind, is the King of broad France now limited: herecan he and his sit pent, under the eyes of the world, or retire intotheir closet at intervals; for the space of sixteen hours. Such quietpeculiar moment has the Legislative lived to see. But also what a moment was that other, few minutes later, when the threeMarseillese cannon went off, and the Swiss rolling-fire and universalthunder, like the Crack of Doom, began to rattle! Honourable Membersstart to their feet; stray bullets singing epicedium even here, shivering in with window-glass and jingle. "No, this is our post; let usdie here!" They sit therefore, like stone Legislators. But may not theLodge of the Logographe be forced from behind? Tear down the railingthat divides it from the enchanted Constitutional Circuit! Ushers tearand tug; his Majesty himself aiding from within: the railing gives way;Majesty and Legislative are united in place, unknown Destiny hoveringover both. Rattle, and again rattle, went the thunder; one breathless wide-eyedmessenger rushing in after another: King's orders to the Swiss wentout. It was a fearful thunder; but, as we know, it ended. Breathlessmessengers, fugitive Swiss, denunciatory Patriots, trepidation; finallytripudiation!--Before four o'clock much has come and gone. The New Municipals have come and gone; with Three Flags, Liberte, Egalite, Patrie, and the clang of vivats. Vergniaud, he who as Presidentfew hours ago talked of Dying for Constituted Authorities, has moved, as Committee-Reporter, that the Hereditary Representative be suspended;that a NATIONAL CONVENTION do forthwith assemble to say what further!An able Report: which the President must have had ready in his pocket?A President, in such cases, must have much ready, and yet not ready; andJanus-like look before and after. King Louis listens to all; retires about midnight 'to three little roomson the upper floor;' till the Luxembourg be prepared for him, and 'thesafeguard of the Nation. ' Safer if Brunswick were once here! Or, alas, not so safe? Ye hapless discrowned heads! Crowds came, next morning, tocatch a climpse of them, in their three upper rooms. Montgaillard saysthe august Captives wore an air of cheerfulness, even of gaiety; thatthe Queen and Princess Lamballe, who had joined her over night, lookedout of the open window, 'shook powder from their hair on the peoplebelow, and laughed. ' (Montgaillard. Ii. 135-167. ) He is an acriddistorted man. For the rest, one may guess that the Legislative, above all that the NewMunicipality continues busy. Messengers, Municipal or Legislative, andswift despatches rush off to all corners of France; full of triumph, blended with indignant wail, for Twelve hundred have fallen. Francesends up its blended shout responsive; the Tenth of August shall beas the Fourteenth of July, only bloodier and greater. The Court hasconspired? Poor Court: the Court has been vanquished; and will have boththe scath to bear and the scorn. How the Statues of Kings do now allfall! Bronze Henri himself, though he wore a cockade once, jingles downfrom the Pont Neuf, where Patrie floats in Danger. Much more does LouisFourteenth, from the Place Vendome, jingle down, and even breaks infalling. The curious can remark, written on his horse's shoe: '12 Aout1692;' a Century and a Day. The Tenth of August was Friday. The week is not done, when our oldPatriot Ministry is recalled, what of it can be got: strict Roland, Genevese Claviere; add heavy Monge the Mathematician, once astone-hewer; and, for Minister of Justice, --Danton 'led hither, ' ashimself says, in one of his gigantic figures, 'through the breach ofPatriot cannon!' These, under Legislative Committees, must rulethe wreck as they can: confusedly enough; with an old Legislativewaterlogged, with a New Municipality so brisk. But National Conventionwill get itself together; and then! Without delay, however, let a NewJury-Court and Criminal Tribunal be set up in Paris, to try the crimesand conspiracies of the Tenth. High Court of Orleans is distant, slow:the blood of the Twelve hundred Patriots, whatever become of otherblood, shall be inquired after. Tremble, ye Criminals and Conspirators;the Minister of Justice is Danton! Robespierre too, after the victory, sits in the New Municipality; insurrectionary 'improvised Municipality, 'which calls itself Council General of the Commune. For three days now, Louis and his Family have heard the LegislativeDebates in the Lodge of the Logographe; and retired nightly to theirsmall upper rooms. The Luxembourg and safeguard of the Nation couldnot be got ready: nay, it seems the Luxembourg has too many cellars andissues; no Municipality can undertake to watch it. The compact Prisonof the Temple, not so elegant indeed, were much safer. To the Temple, therefore! On Monday, 13th day of August 1792, in Mayor Petion'scarriage, Louis and his sad suspended Household, fare thither; allParis out to look at them. As they pass through the Place Vendome LouisFourteenth's Statue lies broken on the ground. Petion is afraid theQueen's looks may be thought scornful, and produce provocation;she casts down her eyes, and does not look at all. The 'press isprodigious, ' but quiet: here and there, it shouts Vive la Nation; butfor most part gazes in silence. French Royalty vanishes within the gatesof the Temple: these old peaked Towers, like peaked Extinguisher orBonsoir, do cover it up;--from which same Towers, poor Jacques Molay andhis Templars were burnt out, by French Royalty, five centuries since. Such are the turns of Fate below. Foreign Ambassadors, English LordGower have all demanded passports; are driving indignantly towards theirrespective homes. So, then, the Constitution is over? For ever and a day! Gone is thatwonder of the Universe; First biennial Parliament, waterlogged, waitsonly till the Convention come; and will then sink to endless depths. One can guess the silent rage of Old-Constituents, Constitution-builders, extinct Feuillants, men who thought theConstitution would march! Lafayette rises to the altitude of thesituation; at the head of his Army. Legislative Commissioners areposting towards him and it, on the Northern Frontier, to congratulateand perorate: he orders the Municipality of Sedan to arrest theseCommissioners, and keep them strictly in ward as Rebels, till he sayfurther. The Sedan Municipals obey. The Sedan Municipals obey: but the Soldiers of the Lafayette Army? TheSoldiers of the Lafayette Army have, as all Soldiers have, a kind of dimfeeling that they themselves are Sansculottes in buff belts; that thevictory of the Tenth of August is also a victory for them. They will notrise and follow Lafayette to Paris; they will rise and send him thither!On the 18th, which is but next Saturday, Lafayette, with some two orthree indignant Staff-officers, one of whom is Old-Constituent Alexandrede Lameth, having first put his Lines in what order he could, --ridesswiftly over the Marches, towards Holland. Rides, alas, swiftly intothe claws of Austrians! He, long-wavering, trembling on the verge of thehorizon, has set, in Olmutz Dungeons; this History knows him no more. Adieu, thou Hero of two worlds; thinnest, but compact honour-worthy man!Through long rough night of captivity, through other tumults, triumphsand changes, thou wilt swing well, 'fast-anchored to the WashingtonFormula;' and be the Hero and Perfect-character, were it only of oneidea. The Sedan Municipals repent and protest; the Soldiers shout Vivela Nation. Dumouriez Polymetis, from his Camp at Maulde, sees himselfmade Commander in Chief. And, O Brunswick! what sort of 'military execution' will Parismerit now? Forward, ye well-drilled exterminatory men; with yourartillery-waggons, and camp kettles jingling. Forward, tall chivalrousKing of Prussia; fanfaronading Emigrants and war-god Broglie, 'for someconsolation to mankind, ' which verily is not without need of some. END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. VOLUME III. THE GUILLOTINE BOOK 3. I. SEPTEMBER Chapter 3. 1. I. The Improvised Commune. Ye have roused her, then, ye Emigrants and Despots of the world; Franceis roused; long have ye been lecturing and tutoring this poor Nation, like cruel uncalled-for pedagogues, shaking over her your ferulasof fire and steel: it is long that ye have pricked and fillipped andaffrighted her, there as she sat helpless in her dead cerements ofa Constitution, you gathering in on her from all lands, with yourarmaments and plots, your invadings and truculent bullyings;--and lonow, ye have pricked her to the quick, and she is up, and her blood isup. The dead cerements are rent into cobwebs, and she fronts you in thatterrible strength of Nature, which no man has measured, which goes downto Madness and Tophet: see now how ye will deal with her! This month of September, 1792, which has become one of the memorablemonths of History, presents itself under two most diverse aspects; allof black on the one side, all of bright on the other. Whatsoever iscruel in the panic frenzy of Twenty-five million men, whatsoever isgreat in the simultaneous death-defiance of Twenty-five million men, stand here in abrupt contrast, near by one another. As indeed is usualwhen a man, how much more when a Nation of men, is hurled suddenlybeyond the limits. For Nature, as green as she looks, rests everywhereon dread foundations, were we farther down; and Pan, to whose music theNymphs dance, has a cry in him that can drive all men distracted. Very frightful it is when a Nation, rending asunder its Constitutionsand Regulations which were grown dead cerements for it, becomestranscendental; and must now seek its wild way through the New, Chaotic, --where Force is not yet distinguished into Bidden andForbidden, but Crime and Virtue welter unseparated, --in that domainof what is called the Passions; of what we call the Miracles and thePortents! It is thus that, for some three years to come, we areto contemplate France, in this final Third Volume of our History. Sansculottism reigning in all its grandeur and in all its hideousness:the Gospel (God's Message) of Man's Rights, Man's mights or strengths, once more preached irrefragably abroad; along with this, and stilllouder for the time, and fearfullest Devil's-Message of Man's weaknessesand sins;--and all on such a scale, and under such aspect: cloudy'death-birth of a world;' huge smoke-cloud, streaked with rays as ofheaven on one side; girt on the other as with hell-fire! History tellsus many things: but for the last thousand years and more, what thing hasshe told us of a sort like this? Which therefore let us two, O Reader, dwell on willingly, for a little; and from its endless significanceendeavour to extract what may, in present circumstances, be adapted forus. It is unfortunate, though very natural, that the history of this Periodhas so generally been written in hysterics. Exaggeration abounds, execration, wailing; and, on the whole, darkness. But thus too, whenfoul old Rome had to be swept from the Earth, and those Northmen, andother horrid sons of Nature, came in, 'swallowing formulas' as theFrench now do, foul old Rome screamed execratively her loudest; so that, the true shape of many things is lost for us. Attila's Huns had arms ofsuch length that they could lift a stone without stooping. Into the bodyof the poor Tatars execrative Roman History intercalated an alphabeticletter; and so they continue Ta-r-tars, of fell Tartarean nature, tothis day. Here, in like manner, search as we will in these multi-forminnumerable French Records, darkness too frequently covers, or sheerdistraction bewilders. One finds it difficult to imagine that the Sunshone in this September month, as he does in others. Nevertheless it isan indisputable fact that the Sun did shine; and there was weather andwork, --nay, as to that, very bad weather for harvest work! An unluckyEditor may do his utmost; and after all, require allowances. He had been a wise Frenchman, who, looking, close at hand, on this wasteaspect of a France all stirring and whirling, in ways new, untried, hadbeen able to discern where the cardinal movement lay; which tendencyit was that had the rule and primary direction of it then! But atforty-four years' distance, it is different. To all men now, twocardinal movements or grand tendencies, in the September whirl, have become discernible enough: that stormful effluence towards theFrontiers; that frantic crowding towards Townhouses and Council-halls inthe interior. Wild France dashes, in desperate death-defiance, towardsthe Frontiers, to defend itself from foreign Despots; crowds towardsTownhalls and Election Committee-rooms, to defend itself from domesticAristocrats. Let the Reader conceive well these two cardinal movements;and what side-currents and endless vortexes might depend on these. He shall judge too, whether, in such sudden wreckage of all oldAuthorities, such a pair of cardinal movements, half-frantic inthemselves, could be of soft nature? As in dry Sahara, when the windswaken, and lift and winnow the immensity of sand! The air itself(Travellers say) is a dim sand-air; and dim looming through it, thewonderfullest uncertain colonnades of Sand-Pillars rush whirling fromthis side and from that, like so many mad Spinning-Dervishes, of ahundred feet in stature; and dance their huge Desert-waltz there!-- Nevertheless in all human movements, were they but a day old, thereis order, or the beginning of order. Consider two things in thisSahara-waltz of the French Twenty-five millions; or rather one thing, and one hope of a thing: the Commune (Municipality) of Paris, which isalready here; the National Convention, which shall in few weeks be here. The Insurrectionary Commune, which improvising itself on the eve of theTenth of August, worked this ever-memorable Deliverance by explosion, must needs rule over it, --till the Convention meet. This Commune, whichthey may well call a spontaneous or 'improvised' Commune, is, for thepresent, sovereign of France. The Legislative, deriving its authorityfrom the Old, how can it now have authority when the Old is exploded byinsurrection? As a floating piece of wreck, certain things, personsand interests may still cleave to it: volunteer defenders, riflemenor pikemen in green uniform, or red nightcap (of bonnet rouge), defile before it daily, just on the wing towards Brunswick; with thebrandishing of arms; always with some touch of Leonidas-eloquence, oftenwith a fire of daring that threatens to outherod Herod, --the Galleries, 'especially the Ladies, never done with applauding. ' (Moore's Journal, i. 85. ) Addresses of this or the like sort can be received and answered, in the hearing of all France: the Salle de Manege is still useful asa place of proclamation. For which use, indeed, it now chiefly serves. Vergniaud delivers spirit-stirring orations; but always with a propheticsense only, looking towards the coming Convention. "Let our memoryperish, " cries Vergniaud, "but let France be free!"--whereupon theyall start to their feet, shouting responsive: "Yes, yes, perisse notrememoire, pourvu que la France soit libre!" (Hist. Parl. Xvii. 467. )Disfrocked Chabot abjures Heaven that at least we may "have done withKings;" and fast as powder under spark, we all blaze up once more, andwith waved hats shout and swear: "Yes, nous le jurons; plus de roi!"(Ibid. Xvii. 437. ) All which, as a method of proclamation, is veryconvenient. For the rest, that our busy Brissots, rigorous Rolands, men who once hadauthority and now have less and less; men who love law, and will haveeven an Explosion explode itself, as far as possible, according to rule, do find this state of matters most unofficial unsatisfactory, --is not tobe denied. Complaints are made; attempts are made: but without effect. The attempts even recoil; and must be desisted from, for fear of worse:the sceptre is departed from this Legislative once and always. A poorLegislative, so hard was fate, had let itself be hand-gyved, nailed tothe rock like an Andromeda, and could only wail there to the Earthand Heavens; miraculously a winged Perseus (or Improvised Commune) hasdawned out of the void Blue, and cut her loose: but whether now isit she, with her softness and musical speech, or is it he, with hishardness and sharp falchion and aegis, that shall have casting vote?Melodious agreement of vote; this were the rule! But if otherwise, andvotes diverge, then surely Andromeda's part is to weep, --if possible, tears of gratitude alone. Be content, O France, with this Improvised Commune, such as it is! Ithas the implements, and has the hands: the time is not long. On Sundaythe twenty-sixth of August, our Primary Assemblies shall meet, beginelecting of Electors; on Sunday the second of September (may the dayprove lucky!) the Electors shall begin electing Deputies; and so anall-healing National Convention will come together. No marc d'argent, ordistinction of Active and Passive, now insults the French Patriot:but there is universal suffrage, unlimited liberty to choose. Old-constituents, Present-Legislators, all France is eligible. Nay, itmay be said, the flower of all the Universe (de l'Univers) is eligible;for in these very days we, by act of Assembly, 'naturalise' the chiefForeign Friends of humanity: Priestley, burnt out for us in Birmingham;Klopstock, a genius of all countries; Jeremy Bentham, usefulJurisconsult; distinguished Paine, the rebellious Needleman;--some ofwhom may be chosen. As is most fit; for a Convention of this kind. In aword, Seven Hundred and Forty-five unshackled sovereigns, admired of theuniverse, shall replace this hapless impotency of a Legislative, --out ofwhich, it is likely, the best members, and the Mountain in mass, maybe re-elected. Roland is getting ready the Salles des Cent Suisses, aspreliminary rendezvous for them; in that void Palace of the Tuileries, now void and National, and not a Palace, but a Caravansera. As for the Spontaneous Commune, one may say that there never was onEarth a stranger Town-Council. Administration, not of a great City, butof a great Kingdom in a state of revolt and frenzy, this is the taskthat has fallen to it. Enrolling, provisioning, judging; devising, deciding, doing, endeavouring to do: one wonders the human brain did notgive way under all this, and reel. But happily human brains have sucha talent of taking up simply what they can carry, and ignoring all therest; leaving all the rest, as if it were not there! Whereby somewhat isverily shifted for; and much shifts for itself. This Improvised Communewalks along, nothing doubting; promptly making front, without fear orflurry, at what moment soever, to the wants of the moment. Were theworld on fire, one improvised tricolor Municipal has but one life tolose. They are the elixir and chosen-men of Sansculottic Patriotism;promoted to the forlorn-hope; unspeakable victory or a high gallows, this is their meed. They sit there, in the Townhall, these astonishingtricolor Municipals; in Council General; in Committee of Watchfulness(de Surveillance, which will even become de Salut Public, ofPublic Salvation), or what other Committees and Sub-committees areneedful;--managing infinite Correspondence; passing infinite Decrees:one hears of a Decree being 'the ninety-eighth of the day. ' Ready!is the word. They carry loaded pistols in their pocket; also someimprovised luncheon by way of meal. Or indeed, by and by, traiteurscontract for the supply of repasts, to be eaten on the spot, --toolavishly, as it was afterwards grumbled. Thus they: girt in theirtricolor sashes; Municipal note-paper in the one hand, fire-armsin other. They have their Agents out all over France; speaking intownhouses, market-places, highways and byways; agitating, urging toarm; all hearts tingling to hear. Great is the fire of Anti-Aristocrateloquence: nay some, as Bibliopolic Momoro, seem to hint afar off atsomething which smells of Agrarian Law, and a surgery of the overswolndropsical strong-box itself;--whereat indeed the bold Bookseller runsrisk of being hanged, and Ex-Constituent Buzot has to smuggle him off. (Memoires de Buzot (Paris, 1823), p. 88. ) Governing Persons, were they never so insignificant intrinsically, havefor most part plenty of Memoir-writers; and the curious, in after-times, can learn minutely their goings out and comings in: which, as men alwayslove to know their fellow-men in singular situations, is a comfort, ofits kind. Not so, with these Governing Persons, now in the Townhall!And yet what most original fellow-man, of the Governing sort, high-chancellor, king, kaiser, secretary of the home or the foreigndepartment, ever shewed such a phasis as Clerk Tallien, ProcureurManuel, future Procureur Chaumette, here in this Sand-waltz of theTwenty-five millions, now do? O brother mortals, --thou Advocate Panis, friend of Danton, kinsman of Santerre; Engraver Sergent, since calledAgate Sergent; thou Huguenin, with the tocsin in thy heart! But, asHorace says, they wanted the sacred memoir-writer (sacro vate); and weknow them not. Men bragged of August and its doings, publishing them inhigh places; but of this September none now or afterwards wouldbrag. The September world remains dark, fuliginous, as Laplandwitch-midnight;--from which, indeed, very strange shapes will evolvethemselves. Understand this, however: that incorruptible Robespierre is not wanting, now when the brunt of battle is past; in a stealthy way the seagreen mansits there, his feline eyes excellent in the twilight. Also understandthis other, a single fact worth many: that Marat is not only there, buthas a seat of honour assigned him, a tribune particuliere. How changedfor Marat; lifted from his dark cellar into this luminous 'peculiartribune!' All dogs have their day; even rabid dogs. Sorrowful, incurablePhiloctetes Marat; without whom Troy cannot be taken! Hither, as a mainelement of the Governing Power, has Marat been raised. Royalist types, for we have 'suppressed' innumerable Durosoys, Royous, and even claptthem in prison, --Royalist types replace the worn types often snatchedfrom a People's-Friend in old ill days. In our 'peculiar tribune' wewrite and redact: Placards, of due monitory terror; Amis-du-Peuple (nowunder the name of Journal de la Republique); and sit obeyed of men. 'Marat, ' says one, 'is the conscience of the Hotel-de-Ville. ' Keeper, as some call it, of the Sovereign's Conscience;--which surely, in suchhands, will not lie hid in a napkin! Two great movements, as we said, agitate this distracted National mind:a rushing against domestic Traitors, a rushing against foreign Despots. Mad movements both, restrainable by no known rule; strongest passionsof human nature driving them on: love, hatred; vengeful sorrow, braggartNationality also vengeful, --and pale Panic over all! Twelve Hundredslain Patriots, do they not, from their dark catacombs there, inDeath's dumb-shew, plead (O ye Legislators) for vengeance? Such was thedestructive rage of these Aristocrats on the ever-memorable Tenth. Nay, apart from vengeance, and with an eye to Public Salvation only, arethere not still, in this Paris (in round numbers) 'thirty thousandAristocrats, ' of the most malignant humour; driven now to their lasttrump-card?--Be patient, ye Patriots: our New High Court, 'Tribunal ofthe Seventeenth, ' sits; each Section has sent Four Jurymen; and Danton, extinguishing improper judges, improper practices wheresoever found, is'the same man you have known at the Cordeliers. ' With such a Ministerof Justice shall not Justice be done?--Let it be swift then, answersuniversal Patriotism; swift and sure!-- One would hope, this Tribunal of the Seventeenth is swifter than most. Already on the 21st, while our Court is but four days old, Collenotd'Angremont, 'the Royal enlister' (crimp, embaucheur) dies bytorch-light. For, lo, the great Guillotine, wondrous to behold, nowstands there; the Doctor's Idea has become Oak and Iron; the hugecyclopean axe 'falls in its grooves like the ram of the Pile-engine, 'swiftly snuffing out the light of men?' 'Mais vous, Gualches, what haveyou invented?' This?--Poor old Laporte, Intendant of the Civil List, follows next; quietly, the mild old man. Then Durosoy, RoyalistPlacarder, 'cashier of all the Anti-Revolutionists of the interior:' hewent rejoicing; said that a Royalist like him ought to die, of all dayson this day, the 25th or Saint Louis's Day. All these have been tried, cast, --the Galleries shouting approval; and handed over to the RealisedIdea, within a week. Besides those whom we have acquitted, the Galleriesmurmuring, and have dismissed; or even have personally guarded backto Prison, as the Galleries took to howling, and even to menacing andelbowing. (Moore's Journal, i. 159-168. ) Languid this Tribunal is not. Nor does the other movement slacken; the rushing against foreignDespots. Strong forces shall meet in death-grip; drilled Europe againstmad undrilled France; and singular conclusions will be tried. --Conceivetherefore, in some faint degree, the tumult that whirls in this France, in this Paris! Placards from Section, from Commune, from Legislative, from the individual Patriot, flame monitory on all walls. Flags ofDanger to Fatherland wave at the Hotel-de-Ville; on the Pont Neuf--overthe prostrate Statues of Kings. There is universal enlisting, urging toenlist; there is tearful-boastful leave-taking; irregular marching onthe Great North-Eastern Road. Marseillese sing their wild To Arms, inchorus; which now all men, all women and children have learnt, and singchorally, in Theatres, Boulevards, Streets; and the heart burns in everybosom: Aux Armes! Marchons!--Or think how your Aristocrats are skulkinginto covert; how Bertrand-Moleville lies hidden in some garret 'inAubry-le-boucher Street, with a poor surgeon who had known me;' Dame deStael has secreted her Narbonne, not knowing what in the world to makeof him. The Barriers are sometimes open, oftenest shut; no passportsto be had; Townhall Emissaries, with the eyes and claws of falcons, flitting watchful on all points of your horizon! In two words: Tribunalof the Seventeenth, busy under howling Galleries; Prussian Brunswick, 'over a space of forty miles, ' with his war-tumbrils, and sleepingthunders, and Briarean 'sixty-six thousand' (See Toulongeon, Hist. DeFrance. Ii. C. 5. ) right-hands, --coming, coming! O Heavens, in these latter days of August, he is come! Durosoy was notyet guillotined when news had come that the Prussians were harrying andravaging about Metz; in some four days more, one hears that Longwi, ourfirst strong-place on the borders, is fallen 'in fifteen hours. ' Quick, therefore, O ye improvised Municipals; quick, and ever quicker!--Theimprovised Municipals make front to this also. Enrolment urges itself;and clothing, and arming. Our very officers have now 'wool epaulettes;'for it is the reign of Equality, and also of Necessity. Neither do mennow monsieur and sir one another; citoyen (citizen) were suitabler; weeven say thou, as 'the free peoples of Antiquity did:' so have Journalsand the Improvised Commune suggested; which shall be well. Infinitely better, meantime, could we suggest, where arms are to befound. For the present, our Citoyens chant chorally To Arms; and have noarms! Arms are searched for; passionately; there is joy over any musket. Moreover, entrenchments shall be made round Paris: on the slopes ofMontmartre men dig and shovel; though even the simple suspect this tobe desperate. They dig; Tricolour sashes speak encouragement andwell-speed-ye. Nay finally 'twelve Members of the Legislative go daily, 'not to encourage only, but to bear a hand, and delve: it was decreedwith acclamation. Arms shall either be provided; or else the ingenuityof man crack itself, and become fatuity. Lean Beaumarchais, thinkingto serve the Fatherland, and do a stroke of trade, in the old way, hascommissioned sixty thousand stand of good arms out of Holland: wouldto Heaven, for Fatherland's sake and his, they were come! Meanwhilerailings are torn up; hammered into pikes: chains themselves shall bewelded together, into pikes. The very coffins of the dead are raised;for melting into balls. All Church-bells must down into the furnace tomake cannon; all Church-plate into the mint to make money. Also beholdthe fair swan-bevies of Citoyennes that have alighted in Churches, and sit there with swan-neck, --sewing tents and regimentals! Nor arePatriotic Gifts wanting, from those that have aught left; nor stingilygiven: the fair Villaumes, mother and daughter, Milliners in theRue St. -Martin, give 'a silver thimble, and a coin of fifteen sous(sevenpence halfpenny), ' with other similar effects; and offer, at leastthe mother does, to mount guard. Men who have not even a thimble, givea thimbleful, --were it but of invention. One Citoyen has wrought out thescheme of a wooden cannon; which France shall exclusively profit by, in the first instance. It is to be made of staves, by the coopers;--ofalmost boundless calibre, but uncertain as to strength! Thus they:hammering, scheming, stitching, founding, with all their heart and withall their soul. Two bells only are to remain in each Parish, --for tocsinand other purposes. But mark also, precisely while the Prussian batteries were playing theirbriskest at Longwi in the North-East, and our dastardly Lavergne sawnothing for it but surrender, --south-westward, in remote, patriarchal LaVendee, that sour ferment about Nonjuring Priests, after long working, is ripe, and explodes: at the wrong moment for us! And so we have 'eightthousand Peasants at Chatillon-sur-Sevre, ' who will not be ballottedfor soldiers; will not have their Curates molested. To whom Bonchamps, Laroche-jaquelins, and Seigneurs enough, of a Royalist turn, willjoin themselves; with Stofflets and Charettes; with Heroes and ChouanSmugglers; and the loyal warmth of a simple people, blown into flameand fury by theological and seignorial bellows! So that there shall befighting from behind ditches, death-volleys bursting out of thickets andravines of rivers; huts burning, feet of the pitiful women hurrying torefuge with their children on their back; seedfields fallow, whitenedwith human bones;--'eighty thousand, of all ages, ranks, sexes, flyingat once across the Loire, ' with wail borne far on the winds: and, inbrief, for years coming, such a suite of scenes as glorious war has notoffered in these late ages, not since our Albigenses and Crusadingswere over, --save indeed some chance Palatinate, or so, we might have to'burn, ' by way of exception. The 'eight thousand at Chatillon' will begot dispelled for the moment; the fire scattered, not extinguished. Tothe dints and bruises of outward battle there is to be added hencefortha deadlier internal gangrene. This rising in La Vendee reports itself at Paris on Wednesday the 29thof August;--just as we had got our Electors elected; and, in spite ofBrunswick's and Longwi's teeth, were hoping still to have a NationalConvention, if it pleased Heaven. But indeed, otherwise, this Wednesdayis to be regarded as one of the notablest Paris had yet seen: gloomytidings come successively, like Job's messengers; are met by gloomyanswers. Of Sardinia rising to invade the South-East, and Spainthreatening the South, we do not speak. But are not the Prussiansmasters of Longwi (treacherously yielded, one would say); and preparingto besiege Verdun? Clairfait and his Austrians are encompassingThionville; darkening the North. Not Metz-land now, but the Clermontaisis getting harried; flying hulans and huzzars have been seen on theChalons Road, almost as far as Sainte-Menehould. Heart, ye Patriots, ifye lose heart, ye lose all! It is not without a dramatic emotion that one reads in the ParliamentaryDebates of this Wednesday evening 'past seven o'clock, ' the scene withthe military fugitives from Longwi. Wayworn, dusty, disheartened, thesepoor men enter the Legislative, about sunset or after; give the mostpathetic detail of the frightful pass they were in:--Prussians billowinground by the myriad, volcanically spouting fire for fifteen hours: we, scattered sparse on the ramparts, hardly a cannoneer to two guns; ourdastard Commandant Lavergne no where shewing face; the priming wouldnot catch; there was no powder in the bombs, --what could we do? "Mourir!Die!" answer prompt voices; (Hist. Parl. Xvii. 148. ) and the dustyfugitives must shrink elsewhither for comfort. --Yes, Mourir, that is nowthe word. Be Longwi a proverb and a hissing among French strong-places:let it (says the Legislative) be obliterated rather, from the shamedface of the Earth;--and so there has gone forth Decree, that Longwishall, were the Prussians once out of it, 'be rased, ' and exist only asploughed ground. Nor are the Jacobins milder; as how could they, the flower ofPatriotism? Poor Dame Lavergne, wife of the poor Commandant, took herparasol one evening, and escorted by her Father came over to the Hall ofthe mighty Mother; and 'reads a memoir tending to justify the Commandantof Longwi. ' Lafarge, President, makes answer: "Citoyenne, the Nationwill judge Lavergne; the Jacobins are bound to tell him the truth. Hewould have ended his course there (termine sa carriere), if he had lovedthe honour of his country. " (Ibid. Xix. 300. ) Chapter 3. 1. II. Danton. But better than raising of Longwi, or rebuking poor dusty soldiers orsoldiers' wives, Danton had come over, last night, and demanded aDecree to search for arms, since they were not yielded voluntarily. Let'Domiciliary visits, ' with rigour of authority, be made to this end. Tosearch for arms; for horses, --Aristocratism rolls in its carriage, whilePatriotism cannot trail its cannon. To search generally for munitions ofwar, 'in the houses of persons suspect, '--and even, if it seem proper, to seize and imprison the suspect persons themselves! In the Prisons, their plots will be harmless; in the Prisons, they will be as hostagesfor us, and not without use. This Decree the energetic Minister ofJustice demanded, last night, and got; and this same night it is to beexecuted; it is being executed, at the moment when these dusty soldiersget saluted with Mourir. Two thousand stand of arms, as they count, areforaged in this way; and some four hundred head of new Prisoners; and, on the whole, such a terror and damp is struck through the Aristocratheart, as all but Patriotism, and even Patriotism were it out of thisagony, might pity. Yes, Messieurs! if Brunswick blast Paris to ashes, he probably will blast the Prisons of Paris too: pale Terror, if we havegot it, we will also give it, and the depth of horrors that lie in it;the same leaky bottom, in these wild waters, bears us all. One can judge what stir there was now among the 'thirty thousandRoyalists:' how the Plotters, or the accused of Plotting, shrank eachcloser into his lurking-place, --like Bertrand Moleville, looking eagertowards Longwi, hoping the weather would keep fair. Or how they dressedthemselves in valet's clothes, like Narbonne, and 'got to England as Dr. Bollman's famulus:' how Dame de Stael bestirred herself, pleading withManuel as a Sister in Literature, pleading even with Clerk Tallien; apray to nameless chagrins! (De Stael, Considerations sur la Revolution, ii. 67-81. ) Royalist Peltier, the Pamphleteer, gives a touchingNarrative (not deficient in height of colouring) of the terrors ofthat night. From five in the afternoon, a great City is struck suddenlysilent; except for the beating of drums, for the tramp of marchingfeet; and ever and anon the dread thunder of the knocker at some door, aTricolor Commissioner with his blue Guards (black-guards!) arriving. All Streets are vacant, says Peltier; beset by Guards at each end: allCitizens are ordered to be within doors. On the River float sentinalbarges, lest we escape by water: the Barriers hermetically closed. Frightful! The sun shines; serenely westering, in smokelessmackerel-sky: Paris is as if sleeping, as if dead:--Paris is holdingits breath, to see what stroke will fall on it. Poor Peltier! Acts ofApostles, and all jocundity of Leading-Articles, are gone out, and it isbecome bitter earnest instead; polished satire changed now into coarsepike-points (hammered out of railing); all logic reduced to this oneprimitive thesis, An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!--Peltier, dolefully aware of it, ducks low; escapes unscathed to England; tourge there the inky war anew; to have Trial by Jury, in due season, anddeliverance by young Whig eloquence, world-celebrated for a day. Of 'thirty thousand, ' naturally, great multitudes were left unmolested:but, as we said, some four hundred, designated as 'persons suspect, 'were seized; and an unspeakable terror fell on all. Wo to him who isguilty of Plotting, of Anticivism, Royalism, Feuillantism; who, guiltyor not guilty, has an enemy in his Section to call him guilty! Poor oldM. De Cazotte is seized, his young loved Daughter with him, refusingto quit him. Why, O Cazotte, wouldst thou quit romancing, and DiableAmoureux, for such reality as this? Poor old M. De Sombreuil, he of theInvalides, is seized: a man seen askance, by Patriotism ever since theBastille days: whom also a fond Daughter will not quit. With young tearshardly suppressed, and old wavering weakness rousing itself once more--Omy brothers, O my sisters! The famed and named go; the nameless, if they have an accuser. NecklaceLamotte's Husband is in these Prisons (she long since squelched on theLondon Pavements); but gets delivered. Gross de Morande, of the Courierde l'Europe, hobbles distractedly to and fro there: but they let himhobble out; on right nimble crutches;--his hour not being yet come. Advocate Maton de la Varenne, very weak in health, is snatched off frommother and kin; Tricolor Rossignol (journeyman goldsmith and scoundrellately, a risen man now) remembers an old Pleading of Maton's! Jourgniacde Saint-Meard goes; the brisk frank soldier: he was in the Mutinyof Nancy, in that 'effervescent Regiment du Roi, '--on the wrong side. Saddest of all: Abbe Sicard goes; a Priest who could not take the Oath, but who could teach the Deaf and Dumb: in his Section one man, hesays, had a grudge at him; one man, at the fit hour, launches an arrestagainst him; which hits. In the Arsenal quarter, there are dumb heartsmaking wail, with signs, with wild gestures; he their miraculous healerand speech-bringer is rapt away. What with the arrestments on this night of the Twenty-ninth, what withthose that have gone on more or less, day and night, ever since theTenth, one may fancy what the Prisons now were. Crowding and Confusion;jostle, hurry, vehemence and terror! Of the poor Queen's Friends, whohad followed her to the Temple and been committed elsewhither toPrison, some, as Governess de Tourzelle, are to be let go: one, the poorPrincess de Lamballe, is not let go; but waits in the strong-rooms of LaForce there, what will betide further. Among so many hundreds whom the launched arrest hits, who are rolledoff to Townhall or Section-hall, to preliminary Houses of detention, andhurled in thither, as into cattle-pens, we must mention one other: Caronde Beaumarchais, Author of Figaro; vanquisher of Maupeou Parlements andGoezman helldogs; once numbered among the demigods; and now--? We lefthim in his culminant state; what dreadful decline is this, when we againcatch a glimpse of him! 'At midnight' (it was but the 12th of Augustyet), 'the servant, in his shirt, ' with wide-staring eyes, enters yourroom:--Monsieur, rise; all the people are come to seek you; they areknocking, like to break in the door! 'And they were in fact knocking ina terrible manner (d'une facon terrible). I fling on my coat, forgettingeven the waistcoat, nothing on my feet but slippers; and say tohim'--And he, alas, answers mere negatory incoherences, panicinterjections. And through the shutters and crevices, in front orrearward, the dull street-lamps disclose only streetfuls of haggardcountenances; clamorous, bristling with pikes: and you rush distractedfor an outlet, finding none;--and have to take refuge in thecrockery-press, down stairs; and stand there, palpitating in thatimperfect costume, lights dancing past your key-hole, tramp of feetoverhead, and the tumult of Satan, 'for four hours and more!' And oldladies, of the quarter, started up (as we hear next morning); rangfor their Bonnes and cordial-drops, with shrill interjections: and oldgentlemen, in their shirts, 'leapt garden-walls;' flying, while nonepursued; one of whom unfortunately broke his leg. (Beaumarchais'Narrative, Memoires sur les Prisons (Paris, 1823), i. 179-90. ) Thosesixty thousand stand of Dutch arms (which never arrive), and the boldstroke of trade, have turned out so ill!-- Beaumarchais escaped for this time; but not for the next time, ten daysafter. On the evening of the Twenty-ninth he is still in that chaos ofthe Prisons, in saddest, wrestling condition; unable to get justice, even to get audience; 'Panis scratching his head' when you speak to him, and making off. Nevertheless let the lover of Figaro know that ProcureurManuel, a Brother in Literature, found him, and delivered him once more. But how the lean demigod, now shorn of his splendour, had to lurk inbarns, to roam over harrowed fields, panting for life; and to wait undereavesdrops, and sit in darkness 'on the Boulevard amid paving-stones andboulders, ' longing for one word of any Minister, or Minister's Clerk, about those accursed Dutch muskets, and getting none, --with heart fumingin spleen, and terror, and suppressed canine-madness: alas, how theswift sharp hound, once fit to be Diana's, breaks his old teeth now, gnawing mere whinstones; and must 'fly to England;' and, returningfrom England, must creep into the corner, and lie quiet, toothless(moneyless), --all this let the lover of Figaro fancy, and weep for. We here, without weeping, not without sadness, wave the withered toughfellow-mortal our farewell. His Figaro has returned to the French stage;nay is, at this day, sometimes named the best piece there. And indeed, so long as Man's Life can ground itself only on artificiality andaridity; each new Revolt and Change of Dynasty turning up only a newstratum of dry rubbish, and no soil yet coming to view, --may it notbe good to protest against such a Life, in many ways, and even in theFigaro way? Chapter 3. 1. III. Dumouriez. Such are the last days of August, 1792; days gloomy, disastrous, and ofevil omen. What will become of this poor France? Dumouriez rode fromthe Camp of Maulde, eastward to Sedan, on Tuesday last, the 28th of themonth; reviewed that so-called Army left forlorn there by Lafayette: theforlorn soldiers gloomed on him; were heard growling on him, "Thisis one of them, ce b--e la, that made War be declared. " (Dumouriez, Memoires, ii. 383. ) Unpromising Army! Recruits flow in, filteringthrough Depot after Depot; but recruits merely: in want of all; happy ifthey have so much as arms. And Longwi has fallen basely; and Brunswick, and the Prussian King, with his sixty thousand, will beleaguer Verdun;and Clairfait and Austrians press deeper in, over the Northern marches:'a hundred and fifty thousand' as fear counts, 'eighty thousand' asthe returns shew, do hem us in; Cimmerian Europe behind them. There isCastries-and-Broglie chivalry; Royalist foot 'in red facing and nankeentrousers;' breathing death and the gallows. And lo, finally! at Verdun on Sunday the 2d of September 1792, Brunswickis here. With his King and sixty thousand, glittering over the heights, from beyond the winding Meuse River, he looks down on us, on our 'highcitadel' and all our confectionery-ovens (for we are celebrated forconfectionery) has sent courteous summons, in order to spare theeffusion of blood!--Resist him to the death? Every day of retardationprecious? How, O General Beaurepaire (asks the amazed Municipality)shall we resist him? We, the Verdun Municipals, see no resistancepossible. Has he not sixty thousand, and artillery without end?Retardation, Patriotism is good; but so likewise is peaceable baking ofpastry, and sleeping in whole skin. --Hapless Beaurepaire stretches outhis hands, and pleads passionately, in the name of country, honour, ofHeaven and of Earth: to no purpose. The Municipals have, by law, the power of ordering it;--with an Army officered by Royalism orCrypto-Royalism, such a Law seemed needful: and they order it, aspacific Pastrycooks, not as heroic Patriots would, --To surrender!Beaurepaire strides home, with long steps: his valet, entering the room, sees him 'writing eagerly, ' and withdraws. His valet hears then, ina few minutes, the report of a pistol: Beaurepaire is lying dead; hiseager writing had been a brief suicidal farewell. In this manner diedBeaurepaire, wept of France; buried in the Pantheon, with honourablepension to his Widow, and for Epitaph these words, He chose Death ratherthan yield to Despots. The Prussians, descending from the heights, arepeaceable masters of Verdun. And so Brunswick advances, from stage to stage: who shall now stayhim, --covering forty miles of country? Foragers fly far; the villages ofthe North-East are harried; your Hessian forager has only 'three sous aday:' the very Emigrants, it is said, will take silver-plate, --by wayof revenge. Clermont, Sainte-Menehould, Varennes especially, ye Towns ofthe Night of Spurs; tremble ye! Procureur Sausse and the Magistracy ofVarennes have fled; brave Boniface Le Blanc of the Bras d'Or is to thewoods: Mrs. Le Blanc, a young woman fair to look upon, with her younginfant, has to live in greenwood, like a beautiful Bessy Bell of Song, her bower thatched with rushes;--catching premature rheumatism. (HelenMaria Williams, Letters from France (London, 1791-93), iii. 96. )Clermont may ring the tocsin now, and illuminate itself! Clermont liesat the foot of its Cow (or Vache, so they name that Mountain), a prey tothe Hessian spoiler: its fair women, fairer than most, are robbed: notof life, or what is dearer, yet of all that is cheaper and portable; forNecessity, on three half-pence a-day, has no law. At Saint-Menehould, the enemy has been expected more than once, --our Nationals all turningout in arms; but was not yet seen. Post-master Drouet, he is not in thewoods, but minding his Election; and will sit in the Convention, notableKing-taker, and bold Old-Dragoon as he is. Thus on the North-East all roams and runs; and on a set day, the dateof which is irrecoverable by History, Brunswick 'has engaged to dine inParis, '--the Powers willing. And at Paris, in the centre, it is as wesaw; and in La Vendee, South-West, it is as we saw; and Sardinia is inthe South-East, and Spain is in the South, and Clairfait with Austriaand sieged Thionville is in the North;--and all France leaps distracted, like the winnowed Sahara waltzing in sand-colonnades! More desperateposture no country ever stood in. A country, one would say, which theMajesty of Prussia (if it so pleased him) might partition, and clipin pieces, like a Poland; flinging the remainder to poor BrotherLouis, --with directions to keep it quiet, or else we will keep it forhim! Or perhaps the Upper Powers, minded that a new Chapter in UniversalHistory shall begin here and not further on, may have ordered it allotherwise? In that case, Brunswick will not dine in Paris on the setday; nor, indeed, one knows not when!--Verily, amid this wreckage, wherepoor France seems grinding itself down to dust and bottomless ruin, whoknows what miraculous salient-point of Deliverance and New-life may havealready come into existence there; and be already working there, thoughas yet human eye discern it not! On the night of that same twenty-eighthof August, the unpromising Review-day in Sedan, Dumouriez assembles aCouncil of War at his lodgings there. He spreads out the map of thisforlorn war-district: Prussians here, Austrians there; triumphant both, with broad highway, and little hinderance, all the way to Paris;we, scattered helpless, here and here: what to advise? The Generals, strangers to Dumouriez, look blank enough; know not well what toadvise, --if it be not retreating, and retreating till our recruitsaccumulate; till perhaps the chapter of chances turn up some leaf forus; or Paris, at all events, be sacked at the latest day possible. TheMany-counselled, who 'has not closed an eye for three nights, ' listenswith little speech to these long cheerless speeches; merely watchingthe speaker that he may know him; then wishes them all good-night;--butbeckons a certain young Thouvenot, the fire of whose looks had pleasedhim, to wait a moment. Thouvenot waits: Voila, says Polymetis, pointingto the map! That is the Forest of Argonne, that long stripe of rockyMountain and wild Wood; forty miles long; with but five, or say eventhree practicable Passes through it: this, for they have forgottenit, might one not still seize, though Clairfait sits so nigh?Once seized;--the Champagne called the Hungry (or worse, ChampagnePouilleuse) on their side of it; the fat Three Bishoprics, and willingFrance, on ours; and the Equinox-rains not far;--this Argonne 'might bethe Thermopylae of France!' (Dumouriez, ii. 391. ) O brisk Dumouriez Polymetis with thy teeming head, may the gods grantit!--Polymetis, at any rate, folds his map together, and flings himselfon bed; resolved to try, on the morrow morning. With astucity, withswiftness, with audacity! One had need to be a lion-fox, and have luckon one's side. Chapter 3. 1. IV. September in Paris. At Paris, by lying Rumour which proved prophetic and veridical, thefall of Verdun was known some hours before it happened. It is Sunday thesecond of September; handiwork hinders not the speculations of the mind. Verdun gone (though some still deny it); the Prussians in full march, with gallows-ropes, with fire and faggot! Thirty thousand Aristocratswithin our own walls; and but the merest quarter-tithe of them yet putin Prison! Nay there goes a word that even these will revolt. Sieur JeanJulien, wagoner of Vaugirard, (Moore, i. 178. ) being set in the Pillorylast Friday, took all at once to crying, That he would be well revengedere long; that the King's Friends in Prison would burst out; force theTemple, set the King on horseback; and, joined by the unimprisoned, rideroughshod over us all. This the unfortunate wagoner of Vaugirard didbawl, at the top of his lungs: when snatched off to the Townhall, hepersisted in it, still bawling; yesternight, when they guillotined him, he died with the froth of it on his lips. (Hist. Parl. Xvii. 409. ) Fora man's mind, padlocked to the Pillory, may go mad; and all men's mindsmay go mad; and 'believe him, ' as the frenetic will do, 'because it isimpossible. ' So that apparently the knot of the crisis, and last agony of Franceis come? Make front to this, thou Improvised Commune, strong Danton, whatsoever man is strong! Readers can judge whether the Flag of Countryin Danger flapped soothing or distractively on the souls of men, thatday. But the Improvised Commune, but strong Danton is not wanting, eachafter his kind. Huge Placards are getting plastered to the walls; attwo o'clock the stormbell shall be sounded, the alarm-cannon fired;all Paris shall rush to the Champ-de-Mars, and have itself enrolled. Unarmed, truly, and undrilled; but desperate, in the strength of frenzy. Haste, ye men; ye very women, offer to mount guard and shoulder thebrown musket: weak clucking-hens, in a state of desperation, will flyat the muzzle of the mastiff, and even conquer him, --by vehemence ofcharacter! Terror itself, when once grown transcendental, becomes a kindof courage; as frost sufficiently intense, according to Poet Milton, will burn. --Danton, the other night, in the Legislative Committeeof General Defence, when the other Ministers and Legislators had allopined, said, It would not do to quit Paris, and fly to Saumur; thatthey must abide by Paris; and take such attitude as would put theirenemies in fear, --faire peur; a word of his which has been oftenrepeated, and reprinted--in italics. (Biographie des Ministres(Bruxelles, 1826), p. 96. ) At two of the clock, Beaurepaire, as we saw, has shot himself at Verdun;and over Europe, mortals are going in for afternoon sermon. But atParis, all steeples are clangouring not for sermon; the alarm-gunbooming from minute to minute; Champ-de-Mars and Fatherland's Altarboiling with desperate terror-courage: what a miserere going upto Heaven from this once Capital of the Most Christian King! TheLegislative sits in alternate awe and effervescence; Vergniaud proposingthat Twelve shall go and dig personally on Montmartre; which is decreedby acclaim. But better than digging personally with acclaim, see Danton enter;--theblack brows clouded, the colossus-figure tramping heavy; grim energylooking from all features of the rugged man! Strong is that grim Son ofFrance, and Son of Earth; a Reality and not a Formula he too; andsurely now if ever, being hurled low enough, it is on the Earth and onRealities that he rests. "Legislators!" so speaks the stentor-voice, asthe Newspapers yet preserve it for us, "it is not the alarm-cannon thatyou hear: it is the pas-de-charge against our enemies. To conquer them, to hurl them back, what do we require? Il nous faut de l'audace, etencore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace, To dare, and again to dare, and without end to dare!" (Moniteur in Hist. Parl. Xvii. 347. )--Rightso, thou brawny Titan; there is nothing left for thee but that. Old men, who heard it, will still tell you how the reverberating voice made allhearts swell, in that moment; and braced them to the sticking-place; andthrilled abroad over France, like electric virtue, as a word spoken inseason. But the Commune, enrolling in the Champ-de-Mars? But the Committee ofWatchfulness, become now Committee of Public Salvation; whose conscienceis Marat? The Commune enrolling enrolls many; provides Tents for them inthat Mars'-Field, that they may march with dawn on the morrow: praise tothis part of the Commune! To Marat and the Committee of Watchfulnessnot praise;--not even blame, such as could be meted out in theseinsufficient dialects of ours; expressive silence rather! Lone Marat, the man forbid, meditating long in his Cellars of refuge, on hisStylites Pillar, could see salvation in one thing only: in the fall of'two hundred and sixty thousand Aristocrat heads. ' With so many scoreof Naples Bravoes, each a dirk in his right-hand, a muff on his left, he would traverse France, and do it. But the world laughed, mocking thesevere-benevolence of a People's-Friend; and his idea could not becomean action, but only a fixed-idea. Lo, now, however, he has come downfrom his Stylites Pillar, to a Tribune particuliere; here now, withoutthe dirks, without the muffs at least, were it not grown possible, --nowin the knot of the crisis, when salvation or destruction hangs in thehour! The Ice-Tower of Avignon was noised of sufficiently, and lives inall memories; but the authors were not punished: nay we saw JourdanCoupe-tete, borne on men's shoulders, like a copper Portent, 'traversingthe cities of the South. '--What phantasms, squalid-horrid, shaking theirdirk and muff, may dance through the brain of a Marat, in this dizzypealing of tocsin-miserere, and universal frenzy, seek not to guess, O Reader! Nor what the cruel Billaud 'in his short brown coat wasthinking;' nor Sergent, not yet Agate-Sergent; nor Panis the confidentof Danton;--nor, in a word, how gloomy Orcus does breed in her gloomywomb, and fashion her monsters, and prodigies of Events, which thouseest her visibly bear! Terror is on these streets of Paris; terror andrage, tears and frenzy: tocsin-miserere pealing through the air; fiercedesperation rushing to battle; mothers, with streaming eyes and wildhearts, sending forth their sons to die. 'Carriage-horses are seized bythe bridle, ' that they may draw cannon; 'the traces cut, the carriagesleft standing. ' In such tocsin-miserere, and murky bewilderment ofFrenzy, are not Murder, Ate, and all Furies near at hand? On slighthint, who knows on how slight, may not Murder come; and, with hersnaky-sparkling hand, illuminate this murk! How it was and went, what part might be premeditated, what wasimprovised and accidental, man will never know, till the great Day ofJudgment make it known. But with a Marat for keeper of the Sovereign'sConscience--And we know what the ultima ratio of Sovereigns, when theyare driven to it, is! In this Paris there are as many wicked men, say ahundred or more, as exist in all the Earth: to be hired, and set on;to set on, of their own accord, unhired. --And yet we will remark thatpremeditation itself is not performance, is not surety of performance;that it is perhaps, at most, surety of letting whosoever wills perform. From the purpose of crime to the act of crime there is an abyss;wonderful to think of. The finger lies on the pistol; but the man is notyet a murderer: nay, his whole nature staggering at such consummation, is there not a confused pause rather, --one last instant of possibilityfor him? Not yet a murderer; it is at the mercy of light trifles whetherthe most fixed idea may not yet become unfixed. One slight twitch of amuscle, the death flash bursts; and he is it, and will for Eternity beit;--and Earth has become a penal Tartarus for him; his horizon girdlednow not with golden hope, but with red flames of remorse; voices fromthe depths of Nature sounding, Wo, wo on him! Of such stuff are we all made; on such powder-mines of bottomless guiltand criminality, 'if God restrained not; as is well said, --does thepurest of us walk. There are depths in man that go the length of lowestHell, as there are heights that reach highest Heaven;--for are not bothHeaven and Hell made out of him, made by him, everlasting Miracleand Mystery as he is?--But looking on this Champ-de-Mars, with itstent-buildings, and frantic enrolments; on this murky-simmeringParis, with its crammed Prisons (supposed about to burst), withits tocsin-miserere, its mothers' tears, and soldiers' farewellshoutings, --the pious soul might have prayed, that day, that God'sgrace would restrain, and greatly restrain; lest on slight hest orhint, Madness, Horror and Murder rose, and this Sabbath-day of Septemberbecame a Day black in the Annals of Men. -- The tocsin is pealing its loudest, the clocks inaudibly striking Three, when poor Abbe Sicard, with some thirty other Nonjurant Priests, insix carriages, fare along the streets, from their preliminary House ofDetention at the Townhall, westward towards the Prison of the Abbaye. Carriages enough stand deserted on the streets; these six moveon, --through angry multitudes, cursing as they move. Accursed AristocratTartuffes, this is the pass ye have brought us to! And now ye will breakthe Prisons, and set Capet Veto on horseback to ride over us? Out uponyou, Priests of Beelzebub and Moloch; of Tartuffery, Mammon, and thePrussian Gallows, --which ye name Mother-Church and God! Such reproacheshave the poor Nonjurants to endure, and worse; spoken in on them byfrantic Patriots, who mount even on the carriage-steps; the veryGuards hardly refraining. Pull up your carriage-blinds!--No! answersPatriotism, clapping its horny paw on the carriage blind, and crushingit down again. Patience in oppression has limits: we are close on theAbbaye, it has lasted long: a poor Nonjurant, of quicker temper, smitesthe horny paw with his cane; nay, finding solacement in it, smites theunkempt head, sharply and again more sharply, twice over, --seen clearlyof us and of the world. It is the last that we see clearly. Alas, nextmoment, the carriages are locked and blocked in endless raging tumults;in yells deaf to the cry for mercy, which answer the cry for mercy withsabre-thrusts through the heart. (Felemhesi (anagram for Mehee Fils), LaVerite tout entiere, sur les vrais auteurs de la journee du 2 Septembre1792 (reprinted in Hist. Parl. Xviii. 156-181), p. 167. ) The thirtyPriests are torn out, are massacred about the Prison-Gate, one afterone, --only the poor Abbe Sicard, whom one Moton a watchmaker, knowinghim, heroically tried to save, and secrete in the Prison, escapes totell;--and it is Night and Orcus, and Murder's snaky-sparkling head hasrisen in the murk!-- From Sunday afternoon (exclusive of intervals, and pauses not final)till Thursday evening, there follow consecutively a Hundred Hours. Which hundred hours are to be reckoned with the hours of the BartholomewButchery, of the Armagnac Massacres, Sicilian Vespers, or whatsoever issavagest in the annals of this world. Horrible the hour when man's soul, in its paroxysm, spurns asunder the barriers and rules; and shews whatdens and depths are in it! For Night and Orcus, as we say, as waslong prophesied, have burst forth, here in this Paris, from theirsubterranean imprisonment: hideous, dim, confused; which it is painfulto look on; and yet which cannot, and indeed which should not, beforgotten. The Reader, who looks earnestly through this dim Phantasmagory of thePit, will discern few fixed certain objects; and yet still a few. Hewill observe, in this Abbaye Prison, the sudden massacre of the Priestsbeing once over, a strange Court of Justice, or call it Court of Revengeand Wild-Justice, swiftly fashion itself, and take seat round a table, with the Prison-Registers spread before it;--Stanislas Maillard, Bastille-hero, famed Leader of the Menads, presiding. O Stanislas, onehoped to meet thee elsewhere than here; thou shifty Riding-Usher, withan inkling of Law! This work also thou hadst to do; and then--to departfor ever from our eyes. At La Force, at the Chatelet, the Conciergerie, the like Court forms itself, with the like accompaniments: the thingthat one man does other men can do. There are some Seven Prisons inParis, full of Aristocrats with conspiracies;--nay not even Bicetre andSalpetriere shall escape, with their Forgers of Assignats: and thereare seventy times seven hundred Patriot hearts in a state of frenzy. Scoundrel hearts also there are; as perfect, say, as the Earthholds, --if such are needed. To whom, in this mood, law is as no-law; andkilling, by what name soever called, is but work to be done. So sit these sudden Courts of Wild-Justice, with the Prison-Registersbefore them; unwonted wild tumult howling all round: the Prisonersin dread expectancy within. Swift: a name is called; bolts jingle, aPrisoner is there. A few questions are put; swiftly this sudden Jurydecides: Royalist Plotter or not? Clearly not; in that case, Let thePrisoner be enlarged With Vive la Nation. Probably yea; then still, Letthe Prisoner be enlarged, but without Vive la Nation; or else it mayrun, Let the prisoner be conducted to La Force. At La Force again theirformula is, Let the Prisoner be conducted to the Abbaye. --"To La Forcethen!" Volunteer bailiffs seize the doomed man; he is at the outer gate;'enlarged, ' or 'conducted, '--not into La Force, but into a howling sea;forth, under an arch of wild sabres, axes and pikes; and sinks, hewnasunder. And another sinks, and another; and there forms itself a piledheap of corpses, and the kennels begin to run red. Fancy the yells ofthese men, their faces of sweat and blood; the crueller shrieks of thesewomen, for there are women too; and a fellow-mortal hurled naked into itall! Jourgniac de Saint Meard has seen battle, has seen an effervescentRegiment du Roi in mutiny; but the bravest heart may quail at this. TheSwiss Prisoners, remnants of the Tenth of August, 'clasped each otherspasmodically, ' and hung back; grey veterans crying: "Mercy Messieurs;ah, mercy!" But there was no mercy. Suddenly, however, one of these mensteps forward. He had a blue frock coat; he seemed to be about thirty, his stature was above common, his look noble and martial. "I go first, "said he, "since it must be so: adieu!" Then dashing his hat sharplybehind him: "Which way?" cried he to the Brigands: "Shew it me, then. "They open the folding gate; he is announced to the multitude. He standsa moment motionless; then plunges forth among the pikes, and dies ofa thousand wounds. ' (Felemhesi, La Verite tout entiere (ut supra), p. 173. ) Man after man is cut down; the sabres need sharpening, the killersrefresh themselves from wine jugs. Onward and onward goes the butchery;the loud yells wearying down into bass growls. A sombre-faced, shiftingmultitude looks on; in dull approval, or dull disapproval; in dullrecognition that it is Necessity. 'An Anglais in drab greatcoat'was seen, or seemed to be seen, serving liquor from his owndram-bottle;--for what purpose, 'if not set on by Pitt, ' Satan andhimself know best! Witty Dr. Moore grew sick on approaching, and turnedinto another street. (Moore's Journal, i. 185-195. )--Quick enoughgoes this Jury-Court; and rigorous. The brave are not spared, nor thebeautiful, nor the weak. Old M. De Montmorin, the Minister's Brother, was acquitted by the Tribunal of the Seventeenth; and conducted back, elbowed by howling galleries; but is not acquitted here. Princess deLamballe has lain down on bed: "Madame, you are to be removed to theAbbaye. " "I do not wish to remove; I am well enough here. " There is aneed-be for removing. She will arrange her dress a little, then;rude voices answer, "You have not far to go. " She too is led to thehell-gate; a manifest Queen's-Friend. She shivers back, at the sight ofbloody sabres; but there is no return: Onwards! That fair hindheadis cleft with the axe; the neck is severed. That fair body is cutin fragments; with indignities, and obscene horrors of moustachiogrands-levres, which human nature would fain find incredible, --whichshall be read in the original language only. She was beautiful, shewas good, she had known no happiness. Young hearts, generation aftergeneration, will think with themselves: O worthy of worship, thouking-descended, god-descended and poor sister-woman! why was not Ithere; and some Sword Balmung, or Thor's Hammer in my hand? Her head isfixed on a pike; paraded under the windows of the Temple; that a stillmore hated, a Marie-Antoinette, may see. One Municipal, in the Templewith the Royal Prisoners at the moment, said, "Look out. " Anothereagerly whispered, "Do not look. " The circuit of the Temple is guarded, in these hours, by a long stretched tricolor riband: terror enters, andthe clangour of infinite tumult: hitherto not regicide, though that toomay come. But it is more edifying to note what thrillings of affection, whatfragments of wild virtues turn up, in this shaking asunder of man'sexistence, for of these too there is a proportion. Note old MarquisCazotte: he is doomed to die; but his young Daughter clasps him in herarms, with an inspiration of eloquence, with a love which is strongerthan very death; the heart of the killers themselves is touched by it;the old man is spared. Yet he was guilty, if plotting for his King isguilt: in ten days more, a Court of Law condemned him, and he had to dieelsewhere; bequeathing his Daughter a lock of his old grey hair. Ornote old M. De Sombreuil, who also had a Daughter:--My Father is not anAristocrat; O good gentlemen, I will swear it, and testify it, and inall ways prove it; we are not; we hate Aristocrats! "Wilt thou drinkAristocrats' blood?" The man lifts blood (if universal Rumour can becredited (Dulaure: Esquisses Historiques des principaux evenemens dela Revolution, ii. 206 (cited in Montgaillard, iii. 205. ); the poormaiden does drink. "This Sombreuil is innocent then!" Yes indeed, --andnow note, most of all, how the bloody pikes, at this news, do rattle tothe ground; and the tiger-yells become bursts of jubilee over a brothersaved; and the old man and his daughter are clasped to bloody bosoms, with hot tears, and borne home in triumph of Vive la Nation, the killersrefusing even money! Does it seem strange, this temper of theirs?It seems very certain, well proved by Royalist testimony in otherinstances; (Bertrand-Moleville, Mem. Particuliers, ii. 213, &c. &c. ) andvery significant. Chapter 3. 1. V. A Trilogy. As all Delineation, in these ages, were it never so Epic, 'speakingitself and not singing itself, ' must either found on Belief and provableFact, or have no foundation at all (nor except as floating cobweb anyexistence at all), --the Reader will perhaps prefer to take a glance withthe very eyes of eye-witnesses; and see, in that way, for himself, howit was. Brave Jourgniac, innocent Abbe Sicard, judicious Advocate Maton, these, greatly compressing themselves, shall speak, each an instant. Jourgniac's Agony of Thirty-eight hours went through 'above a hundrededitions, ' though intrinsically a poor work. Some portion of it may herego through above the hundred-and-first, for want of a better. 'Towards seven o'clock' (Sunday night, at the Abbaye; for Jourgniacgoes by dates): 'We saw two men enter, their hands bloody and armed withsabres; a turnkey, with a torch, lighted them; he pointed to the bed ofthe unfortunate Swiss, Reding. Reding spoke with a dying voice. One ofthem paused; but the other cried Allons donc; lifted the unfortunateman; carried him out on his back to the street. He was massacred there. 'We all looked at one another in silence, we clasped each other's hands. Motionless, with fixed eyes, we gazed on the pavement of our prison;on which lay the moonlight, checkered with the triple stancheons of ourwindows. 'Three in the morning: They were breaking-in one of the prison-doors. Weat first thought they were coming to kill us in our room; but heard, by voices on the staircase, that it was a room where some Prisonershad barricaded themselves. They were all butchered there, as we shortlygathered. 'Ten o'clock: The Abbe Lenfant and the Abbe de Chapt-Rastignac appearedin the pulpit of the Chapel, which was our prison; they had entered by adoor from the stairs. They said to us that our end was at hand; thatwe must compose ourselves, and receive their last blessing. An electricmovement, not to be defined, threw us all on our knees, and we receivedit. These two whitehaired old men, blessing us from their place above;death hovering over our heads, on all hands environing us; the moment isnever to be forgotten. Half an hour after, they were both massacred, andwe heard their cries. ' (Jourgniac Saint-Meard, Mon Agonie de Trente-huitheures, reprinted in Hist. Parl. Xviii. 103-135. )--Thus Jourgniac inhis Agony in the Abbaye. But now let the good Maton speak, what he, over in La Force, in the samehours, is suffering and witnessing. This Resurrection by him is greatlythe best, the least theatrical of these Pamphlets; and stands testing bydocuments: 'Towards seven o'clock, ' on Sunday night, 'prisoners were calledfrequently, and they did not reappear. Each of us reasoned in his ownway, on this singularity: but our ideas became calm, as we persuadedourselves that the Memorial I had drawn up for the National Assembly wasproducing effect. 'At one in the morning, the grate which led to our quarter opened anew. Four men in uniform, each with a drawn sabre and blazing torch, came upto our corridor, preceded by a turnkey; and entered an apartment closeto ours, to investigate a box there, which we heard them break up. Thisdone, they stept into the gallery, and questioned the man Cuissa, toknow where Lamotte (Necklace's Widower) was. Lamotte, they said, hadsome months ago, under pretext of a treasure he knew of, swindled a sumof three-hundred livres from one of them, inviting him to dinner forthat purpose. The wretched Cuissa, now in their hands, who indeed losthis life this night, answered trembling, That he remembered the factwell, but could not tell what was become of Lamotte. Determined to findLamotte and confront him with Cuissa, they rummaged, along with thislatter, through various other apartments; but without effect, for weheard them say: "Come search among the corpses then: for, nom de Dieu!we must find where he is. " 'At this time, I heard Louis Bardy, the Abbe Bardy's name called: he wasbrought out; and directly massacred, as I learnt. He had been accused, along with his concubine, five or six years before, of having murderedand cut in pieces his own Brother, Auditor of the Chambre des Comptes atMontpelier; but had by his subtlety, his dexterity, nay his eloquence, outwitted the judges, and escaped. 'One may fancy what terror these words, "Come search among the corpsesthen, " had thrown me into. I saw nothing for it now but resigningmyself to die. I wrote my last-will; concluding it by a petition andadjuration, that the paper should be sent to its address. Scarcely had Iquitted the pen, when there came two other men in uniform; one of them, whose arm and sleeve up to the very shoulder, as well as the sabre, were covered with blood, said, He was as weary as a hodman that had beenbeating plaster. 'Baudin de la Chenaye was called; sixty years of virtues could not savehim. They said, "A l'Abbaye:" he passed the fatal outer-gate; gave acry of terror, at sight of the heaped corpses; covered his eyes withhis hands, and died of innumerable wounds. At every new opening of thegrate, I thought I should hear my own name called, and see Rossignolenter. 'I flung off my nightgown and cap; I put on a coarse unwashed shirt, aworn frock without waistcoat, an old round hat; these things I had sentfor, some days ago, in the fear of what might happen. 'The rooms of this corridor had been all emptied but ours. We were fourtogether; whom they seemed to have forgotten: we addressed our prayersin common to the Eternal to be delivered from this peril. 'Baptiste the turnkey came up by himself, to see us. I took him by thehands; I conjured him to save us; promised him a hundred louis, if hewould conduct me home. A noise coming from the grates made him hastilywithdraw. 'It was the noise of some dozen or fifteen men, armed to the teeth; aswe, lying flat to escape being seen, could see from our windows: "Upstairs!" said they: "Let not one remain. " I took out my penknife; Iconsidered where I should strike myself, '--but reflected 'that the bladewas too short, ' and also 'on religion. ' Finally, however, between seven and eight o'clock in the morning, enterfour men with bludgeons and sabres!--'to one of whom Gerard my comradewhispered, earnestly, apart. During their colloquy I searched everywhere for shoes, that I might lay off the Advocate pumps (pantoufles dePalais) I had on, ' but could find none. --'Constant, called le Sauvage, Gerard, and a third whose name escapes me, they let clear off: as forme, four sabres were crossed over my breast, and they led me down. I wasbrought to their bar; to the Personage with the scarf, who sat as judgethere. He was a lame man, of tall lank stature. He recognised me on thestreets, and spoke to me seven months after. I have been assured thathe was son of a retired attorney, and named Chepy. Crossing the Courtcalled Des Nourrices, I saw Manuel haranguing in tricolor scarf. ' Thetrial, as we see, ends in acquittal and resurrection. (Maton de laVarenne, Ma Resurrection in Hist. Parl. Xviii. 135-156. ) Poor Sicard, from the violon of the Abbaye, shall say but a few words;true-looking, though tremulous. Towards three in the morning, thekillers bethink them of this little violon; and knock from the court. 'Itapped gently, trembling lest the murderers might hear, on the oppositedoor, where the Section Committee was sitting: they answered grufflythat they had no key. There were three of us in this violon; mycompanions thought they perceived a kind of loft overhead. But it wasvery high; only one of us could reach it, by mounting on the shouldersof both the others. One of them said to me, that my life was usefullerthan theirs: I resisted, they insisted: no denial! I fling myself on theneck of these two deliverers; never was scene more touching. I mount onthe shoulders of the first, then on those of the second, finally onthe loft; and address to my two comrades the expression of a souloverwhelmed with natural emotions. (Abbe Sicard: Relation adressee a unde ses amis, Hist. Parl. Xviii. 98-103. ) The two generous companions, we rejoice to find, did not perish. But itis time that Jourgniac de Saint-Meard should speak his last words, andend this singular trilogy. The night had become day; and the day hasagain become night. Jourgniac, worn down with uttermost agitation, hasfallen asleep, and had a cheering dream: he has also contrived to makeacquaintance with one of the volunteer bailiffs, and spoken in nativeProvencal with him. On Tuesday, about one in the morning, his Agony isreaching its crisis. 'By the glare of two torches, I now descried the terrible tribunal, where lay my life or my death. The President, in grey coats, with asabre at his side, stood leaning with his hands against a table, onwhich were papers, an inkstand, tobacco-pipes and bottles. Some tenpersons were around, seated or standing; two of whom had jackets andaprons: others were sleeping stretched on benches. Two men, in bloodyshirts, guarded the door of the place; an old turnkey had his hand onthe lock. In front of the President, three men held a Prisoner, whomight be about sixty' (or seventy: he was old Marshal Maille, of theTuileries and August Tenth). 'They stationed me in a corner; myguards crossed their sabres on my breast. I looked on all sides for myProvencal: two National Guards, one of them drunk, presented some appealfrom the Section of Croix Rouge in favour of the Prisoner; the Man inGrey answered: "They are useless, these appeals for traitors. " Then thePrisoner exclaimed: "It is frightful; your judgment is a murder. " ThePresident answered; "My hands are washed of it; take M. Maille away. "They drove him into the street; where, through the opening of the door, I saw him massacred. 'The President sat down to write; registering, I suppose, the name ofthis one whom they had finished; then I heard him say: "Another, A unautre!" 'Behold me then haled before this swift and bloody judgment-bar, wherethe best protection was to have no protection, and all resources ofingenuity became null if they were not founded on truth. Two of myguards held me each by a hand, the third by the collar of my coat. "Yourname, your profession?" said the President. "The smallest lie ruinsyou, " added one of the judges, --"My name is Jourgniac Saint-Meard; Ihave served, as an officer, twenty years: and I appear at your tribunalwith the assurance of an innocent man, who therefore will notlie. "--"We shall see that, " said the President: "Do you know why youare arrested?"--"Yes, Monsieur le President; I am accused of editing theJournal De la Cour et de la Ville. But I hope to prove the falsity"'-- But no; Jourgniac's proof of the falsity, and defence generally, thoughof excellent result as a defence, is not interesting to read. It islong-winded; there is a loose theatricality in the reporting of it, which does not amount to unveracity, yet which tends that way. We shallsuppose him successful, beyond hope, in proving and disproving; and skiplargely, --to the catastrophe, almost at two steps. '"But after all, " said one of the Judges, "there is no smoke withoutkindling; tell us why they accuse you of that. "--"I was about to doso"'--Jourgniac does so; with more and more success. '"Nay, " continued I, "they accuse me even of recruiting for theEmigrants!" At these words there arose a general murmur. "O Messieurs, Messieurs, " I exclaimed, raising my voice, "it is my turn to speak; Ibeg M. Le President to have the kindness to maintain it for me; I neverneeded it more. "--"True enough, true enough, " said almost all the judgeswith a laugh: "Silence!" 'While they were examining the testimonials I had produced, a newPrisoner was brought in, and placed before the President. "It was onePriest more, " they said, "whom they had ferreted out of the Chapelle. "After very few questions: "A la Force!" He flung his breviary onthe table: was hurled forth, and massacred. I reappeared before thetribunal. '"You tell us always, " cried one of the judges, with a tone ofimpatience, "that you are not this, that you are not that: what are youthen?"--"I was an open Royalist. "--There arose a general murmur; whichwas miraculously appeased by another of the men, who had seemed to takean interest in me: "We are not here to judge opinions, " said he, "butto judge the results of them. " Could Rousseau and Voltaire both in one, pleading for me, have said better?--"Yes, Messieurs, " cried I, "alwaystill the Tenth of August, I was an open Royalist. Ever since the Tenthof August that cause has been finished. I am a Frenchman, true to mycountry. I was always a man of honour. " '"My soldiers never distrusted me. Nay, two days before that businessof Nanci, when their suspicion of their officers was at its height, they chose me for commander, to lead them to Luneville, to get back theprisoners of the Regiment Mestre-de-Camp, and seize General Malseigne. "'Which fact there is, most luckily, an individual present who by acertain token can confirm. 'The President, this cross-questioning being over, took off his hat andsaid: "I see nothing to suspect in this man; I am for granting him hisliberty. Is that your vote?" To which all the judges answered: "Oui, oui; it is just!"' And there arose vivats within doors and without; 'escort of three, ' amidshoutings and embracings: thus Jourgniac escaped from jury-trial and thejaws of death. (Mon Agonie (ut supra), Hist. Parl. Xviii. 128. ) Matonand Sicard did, either by trial, and no bill found, lank President Chepyfinding 'absolutely nothing;' or else by evasion, and new favour ofMoton the brave watchmaker, likewise escape; and were embraced, and weptover; weeping in return, as they well might. Thus they three, in wondrous trilogy, or triple soliloquy;uttering simultaneously, through the dread night-watches, theirNight-thoughts, --grown audible to us! They Three are become audible: butthe other 'Thousand and Eighty-nine, of whom Two Hundred and Two werePriests, ' who also had Night-thoughts, remain inaudible; choked for everin black Death. Heard only of President Chepy and the Man in Grey!-- Chapter 3. 1. VI. The Circular. But the Constituted Authorities, all this while? The LegislativeAssembly; the Six Ministers; the Townhall; Santerre with the NationalGuard?--It is very curious to think what a City is. Theatres, tothe number of some twenty-three, were open every night during theseprodigies: while right-arms here grew weary with slaying, right-armsthere are twiddledeeing on melodious catgut; at the very instant whenAbbe Sicard was clambering up his second pair of shoulders, three-menhigh, five hundred thousand human individuals were lying horizontal, asif nothing were amiss. As for the poor Legislative, the sceptre had departed from it. TheLegislative did send Deputation to the Prisons, to the Street-Courts;and poor M. Dusaulx did harangue there; but produced no convictionwhatsoever: nay, at last, as he continued haranguing, the Street-Courtinterposed, not without threats; and he had to cease, and withdraw. Thisis the same poor worthy old M. Dusaulx who told, or indeed almostsang (though with cracked voice), the Taking of the Bastille, --to oursatisfaction long since. He was wont to announce himself, on such andon all occasions, as the Translator of Juvenal. "Good Citizens, yousee before you a man who loves his country, who is the Translator ofJuvenal, " said he once. --"Juvenal?" interrupts Sansculottism: "who thedevil is Juvenal? One of your sacres Aristocrates? To the Lanterne!"From an orator of this kind, conviction was not to be expected. TheLegislative had much ado to save one of its own Members, orEx-Members, Deputy Journeau, who chanced to be lying in arrest for mereParliamentary delinquencies, in these Prisons. As for poor old Dusaulxand Company, they returned to the Salle de Manege, saying, "It was dark;and they could not see well what was going on. " (Moniteur, Debate of 2ndSeptember, 1792. ) Roland writes indignant messages, in the name of Order, Humanity, andthe Law; but there is no Force at his disposal. Santerre's NationalForce seems lazy to rise; though he made requisitions, he says, --whichalways dispersed again. Nay did not we, with Advocate Maton's eyes, see 'men in uniform, ' too, with their 'sleeves bloody to the shoulder?'Petion goes in tricolor scarf; speaks "the austere language of thelaw:" the killers give up, while he is there; when his back is turned, recommence. Manuel too in scarf we, with Maton's eyes, transiently sawharanguing, in the Court called of Nurses, Cour des Nourrices. On theother hand, cruel Billaud, likewise in scarf, 'with that small puce coatand black wig we are used to on him, ' (Mehee, Fils ut supra, in Hist. Parl. Xviii. P. 189. ) audibly delivers, 'standing among corpses, ' atthe Abbaye, a short but ever-memorable harangue, reported in variousphraseology, but always to this purpose: "Brave Citizens, you areextirpating the Enemies of Liberty; you are at your duty. A gratefulCommune, and Country, would wish to recompense you adequately; butcannot, for you know its want of funds. Whoever shall have worked(travaille) in a Prison shall receive a draft of one louis, payableby our cashier. Continue your work. " (Montgaillard, iii. 191. )--TheConstituted Authorities are of yesterday; all pulling different ways:there is properly not Constituted Authority, but every man is his ownKing; and all are kinglets, belligerent, allied, or armed-neutral, without king over them. 'O everlasting infamy, ' exclaims Montgaillard, 'that Paris stood lookingon in stupor for four days, and did not interfere!' Very desirableindeed that Paris had interfered; yet not unnatural that it stood evenso, looking on in stupor. Paris is in death-panic, the enemy and gibbetsat its door: whosoever in Paris has the heart to front death finds itmore pressing to do it fighting the Prussians, than fighting the killersof Aristocrats. Indignant abhorrence, as in Roland, may be here; gloomysanction, premeditation or not, as in Marat and Committee of Salvation, may be there; dull disapproval, dull approval, and acquiescence inNecessity and Destiny, is the general temper. The Sons of Darkness, 'twohundred or so, ' risen from their lurking-places, have scope to dotheir work. Urged on by fever-frenzy of Patriotism, and the madness ofTerror;--urged on by lucre, and the gold louis of wages? Nay, not lucre:for the gold watches, rings, money of the Massacred, are punctuallybrought to the Townhall, by Killers sans-indispensables, who higgleafterwards for their twenty shillings of wages; and Sergent sticking anuncommonly fine agate on his finger ('fully meaning to account for it'), becomes Agate-Sergent. But the temper, as we say, is dull acquiescence. Not till the Patriotic or Frenetic part of the work is finished for wantof material; and Sons of Darkness, bent clearly on lucre alone, beginwrenching watches and purses, brooches from ladies' necks 'to equipvolunteers, ' in daylight, on the streets, --does the temper from dullgrow vehement; does the Constable raise his truncheon, and strikingheartily (like a cattle-driver in earnest) beat the 'course of things'back into its old regulated drove-roads. The Garde-Meuble itself wassurreptitiously plundered, on the 17th of the Month, to Roland's newhorror; who anew bestirs himself, and is, as Sieyes says, 'the veto ofscoundrels, ' Roland veto des coquins. (Helen Maria Williams, iii. 27. )-- This is the September Massacre, otherwise called 'Severe Justice of thePeople. ' These are the Septemberers (Septembriseurs); a name of somenote and lucency, --but lucency of the Nether-fire sort; very differentfrom that of our Bastille Heroes, who shone, disputable by no Friend ofFreedom, as in heavenly light-radiance: to such phasis of the businesshave we advanced since then! The numbers massacred are, in Historicalfantasy, 'between two and three thousand;' or indeed they are 'upwardsof six thousand, ' for Peltier (in vision) saw them massacring the verypatients of the Bicetre Madhouse 'with grape-shot;' nay finally theyare 'twelve thousand' and odd hundreds, --not more than that. (See Hist. Parl. Xvii. 421, 422. ) In Arithmetical ciphers, and Lists drawn upby accurate Advocate Maton, the number, including two hundred andtwo priests, three 'persons unknown, ' and 'one thief killed at theBernardins, ' is, as above hinted, a Thousand and Eighty-nine, --no lessthan that. A thousand and eighty-nine lie dead, 'two hundred and sixty heapedcarcasses on the Pont au Change' itself;--among which, Robespierrepleading afterwards will 'nearly weep' to reflect that there was saidto be one slain innocent. (Moniteur of 6th November, Debate of 5thNovember, 1793. ) One; not two, O thou seagreen Incorruptible? Ifso, Themis Sansculotte must be lucky; for she was brief!--In the dimRegisters of the Townhall, which are preserved to this day, men read, with a certain sickness of heart, items and entries not usual in TownBooks: 'To workers employed in preserving the salubrity of the air inthe Prisons, and persons 'who presided over these dangerous operations, 'so much, --in various items, nearly seven hundred pounds sterling. Tocarters employed to 'the Burying-grounds of Clamart, Montrouge, andVaugirard, ' at so much a journey, per cart; this also is an entry. Thenso many francs and odd sous 'for the necessary quantity of quick-lime!'(Etat des sommes payees par la Commune de Paris, Hist. Parl. Xviii. 231. ) Carts go along the streets; full of stript human corpses, thrownpellmell; limbs sticking up:--seest thou that cold Hand sticking up, through the heaped embrace of brother corpses, in its yellow paleness, in its cold rigour; the palm opened towards Heaven, as if in dumbprayer, in expostulation de profundis, Take pity on the Sons ofMen!--Mercier saw it, as he walked down 'the Rue Saint-Jacques fromMontrouge, on the morrow of the Massacres:' but not a Hand; it was aFoot, --which he reckons still more significant, one understands not wellwhy. Or was it as the Foot of one spurning Heaven? Rushing, like a wilddiver, in disgust and despair, towards the depths of Annihilation? Eventhere shall His hand find thee, and His right-hand hold thee, --surelyfor right not for wrong, for good not evil! 'I saw that Foot, ' saysMercier; 'I shall know it again at the great Day of Judgment, whenthe Eternal, throned on his thunders, shall judge both Kings andSeptemberers. ' (Mercier, Nouveau Paris, vi. 21. ) That a shriek of inarticulate horror rose over this thing, not only fromFrench Aristocrats and Moderates, but from all Europe, and has prolongeditself to the present day, was most natural and right. The thing laydone, irrevocable; a thing to be counted besides some other things, which lie very black in our Earth's Annals, yet which will not erasetherefrom. For man, as was remarked, has transcendentalisms in him;standing, as he does, poor creature, every way 'in the confluence ofInfinitudes;' a mystery to himself and others: in the centre of twoEternities, of three Immensities, --in the intersection of primeval Lightwith the everlasting dark! Thus have there been, especially by vehementtempers reduced to a state of desperation, very miserable things done. Sicilian Vespers, and 'eight thousand slaughtered in two hours, ' area known thing. Kings themselves, not in desperation, but only indifficulty, have sat hatching, for year and day (nay De Thou says, forseven years), their Bartholomew Business; and then, at the right moment, also on an Autumn Sunday, this very Bell (they say it is the identicalmetal) of St. Germain l'Auxerrois was set a-pealing--with effect. (9thto 13th September, 1572, Dulaure, Hist. De Paris, iv. 289. ) Nay the sameblack boulder-stones of these Paris Prisons have seen Prison-massacresbefore now; men massacring countrymen, Burgundies massacring Armagnacs, whom they had suddenly imprisoned, till as now there are piled heapsof carcasses, and the streets ran red;--the Mayor Petion of the timespeaking the austere language of the law, and answered by the Killers, in old French (it is some four hundred years old): "Maugre bieu, Sire, --Sir, God's malison on your justice, your pity, your rightreason. Cursed be of God whoso shall have pity on these false traitorousArmagnacs, English; dogs they are; they have destroyed us, wasted thisrealm of France, and sold it to the English. " (Dulaure, iii. 494. )And so they slay, and fling aside the slain, to the extent of 'fifteenhundred and eighteen, among whom are found four Bishops of false anddamnable counsel, and two Presidents of Parlement. ' For though it isnot Satan's world this that we live in, Satan always has his place init (underground properly); and from time to time bursts up. Well maymankind shriek, inarticulately anathematising as they can. There areactions of such emphasis that no shrieking can be too emphatic for them. Shriek ye; acted have they. Shriek who might in this France, in this Paris Legislative or ParisTownhall, there are Ten Men who do not shriek. A Circular goes out fromthe Committee of Salut Public, dated 3rd of September 1792; directed toall Townhalls: a State-paper too remarkable to be overlooked. 'A part ofthe ferocious conspirators detained in the Prisons, ' it says, 'have beenput to death by the People; and it, ' the Circular, 'cannot doubt butthe whole Nation, driven to the edge of ruin by such endless series oftreasons, will make haste to adopt this means of public salvation; andall Frenchmen will cry as the men of Paris: We go to fight the enemy, but we will not leave robbers behind us, to butcher our wives andchildren. ' To which are legibly appended these signatures: Panis, Sergent; Marat, Friend of the People; (Hist. Parl. Xvii. 433. ) withSeven others;--carried down thereby, in a strange way, to the lateremembrance of Antiquarians. We remark, however, that their Circularrather recoiled on themselves. The Townhalls made no use of it; even thedistracted Sansculottes made little; they only howled and bellowed, but did not bite. At Rheims 'about eight persons' were killed; and twoafterwards were hanged for doing it. At Lyons, and a few other places, some attempt was made; but with hardly any effect, being quickly putdown. Less fortunate were the Prisoners of Orleans; was the good Duke de laRochefoucault. He journeying, by quick stages, with his Mother and Wife, towards the Waters of Forges, or some quieter country, was arrested atGisors; conducted along the streets, amid effervescing multitudes, and killed dead 'by the stroke of a paving-stone hurled through thecoach-window. ' Killed as a once Liberal now Aristocrat; Protectorof Priests, Suspender of virtuous Petions, and his unfortunateHot-grown-cold, detestable to Patriotism. He dies lamented of Europe;his blood spattering the cheeks of his old Mother, ninety-three yearsold. As for the Orleans Prisoners, they are State Criminals: RoyalistMinisters, Delessarts, Montmorins; who have been accumulating on theHigh Court of Orleans, ever since that Tribunal was set up. Whom now itseems good that we should get transferred to our new Paris Court of theSeventeenth; which proceeds far quicker. Accordingly hot Fournier fromMartinique, Fournier l'Americain, is off, missioned by ConstitutedAuthority; with stanch National Guards, with Lazouski the Pole;sparingly provided with road-money. These, through bad quarters, throughdifficulties, perils, for Authorities cross each other in this time, --dotriumphantly bring off the Fifty or Fifty-three Orleans Prisoners, towards Paris; where a swifter Court of the Seventeenth will do justiceon them. (Ibid. Xvii. 434. ) But lo, at Paris, in the interim, astill swifter and swiftest Court of the Second, and of September, hasinstituted itself: enter not Paris, or that will judge you!--What shallhot Fournier do? It was his duty, as volunteer Constable, had he been aperfect character, to guard those men's lives never so Aristocratic, atthe expense of his own valuable life never so Sansculottic, tillsome Constituted Court had disposed of them. But he was an imperfectcharacter and Constable; perhaps one of the more imperfect. Hot Fournier, ordered to turn thither by one Authority, to turn thitherby another Authority, is in a perplexing multiplicity of orders; butfinally he strikes off for Versailles. His Prisoners fare in tumbrils, or open carts, himself and Guards riding and marching around: and at thelast village, the worthy Mayor of Versailles comes to meet him, anxiousthat the arrival and locking up were well over. It is Sunday, theninth day of the month. Lo, on entering the Avenue of Versailles, what multitudes, stirring, swarming in the September sun, under thedull-green September foliage; the Four-rowed Avenue all humming andswarming, as if the Town had emptied itself! Our tumbrils roll heavilythrough the living sea; the Guards and Fournier making way with evermore difficulty; the Mayor speaking and gesturing his persuasivest;amid the inarticulate growling hum, which growls ever the deeper even byhearing itself growl, not without sharp yelpings here and there:--Wouldto God we were out of this strait place, and wind and separation hadcooled the heat, which seems about igniting here! And yet if the wide Avenue is too strait, what will the Street deSurintendance be, at leaving of the same? At the corner of SurintendanceStreet, the compressed yelpings became a continuous yell: savage figuresspring on the tumbril-shafts; first spray of an endless coming tide! TheMayor pleads, pushes, half-desperate; is pushed, carried off in men'sarms: the savage tide has entrance, has mastery. Amid horrid noise, andtumult as of fierce wolves, the Prisoners sink massacred, --all but someeleven, who escaped into houses, and found mercy. The Prisons, andwhat other Prisoners they held, were with difficulty saved. The striptclothes are burnt in bonfire; the corpses lie heaped in the ditch onthe morrow morning. (Pieces officielles relatives au massacre desPrisonniers a Versailles in Hist. Parl. Xviii. 236-249. ) All France, except it be the Ten Men of the Circular and their people, moans andrages, inarticulately shrieking; all Europe rings. But neither did Danton shriek; though, as Minister of Justice, it wasmore his part to do so. Brawny Danton is in the breach, as of stormedCities and Nations; amid the Sweep of Tenth-of-August cannon, the rustleof Prussian gallows-ropes, the smiting of September sabres; destructionall round him, and the rushing-down of worlds: Minister of Justiceis his name; but Titan of the Forlorn Hope, and Enfant Perdu of theRevolution, is his quality, --and the man acts according to that. "Wemust put our enemies in fear!" Deep fear, is it not, as of its ownaccord, falling on our enemies? The Titan of the Forlorn Hope, he is notthe man that would swiftest of all prevent its so falling. Forward, thou lost Titan of an Enfant Perdu; thou must dare, and again dare, andwithout end dare; there is nothing left for thee but that! "Que mon nomsoit fletri, Let my name be blighted:" what am I? The Cause alone isgreat; and shall live, and not perish. --So, on the whole, here too is aswallower of Formulas; of still wider gulp than Mirabeau: this Danton, Mirabeau of the Sansculottes. In the September days, this Minister wasnot heard of as co-operating with strict Roland; his business might lieelsewhere, --with Brunswick and the Hotel-de-Ville. When applied to by anofficial person, about the Orleans Prisoners, and the risks they ran, he answered gloomily, twice over, "Are not these men guilty?"--Whenpressed, he 'answered in a terrible voice, ' and turned his back. (Biographie des Ministres, p. 97. ) Two Thousand slain in the Prisons;horrible if you will: but Brunswick is within a day's journey of us;and there are Five-and twenty Millions yet, to slay or to save. Somemen have tasks, --frightfuller than ours! It seems strange, but is notstrange, that this Minister of Moloch-Justice, when any suppliant for afriend's life got access to him, was found to have human compassion; andyielded and granted 'always;' 'neither did one personal enemy of Dantonperish in these days. ' (Ibid. P. 103. ) To shriek, we say, when certain things are acted, is proper andunavoidable. Nevertheless, articulate speech, not shrieking, is thefaculty of man: when speech is not yet possible, let there be, withthe shortest delay, at least--silence. Silence, accordingly, in thisforty-fourth year of the business, and eighteen hundred and thirty-sixthof an 'Era called Christian as lucus a non, ' is the thing we recommendand practise. Nay, instead of shrieking more, it were perhaps edifyingto remark, on the other side, what a singular thing Customs (in Latin, Mores) are; and how fitly the Virtue, Vir-tus, Manhood or Worth, that isin a man, is called his Morality, or Customariness. Fell Slaughter, one the most authentic products of the Pit you would say, once giveit Customs, becomes War, with Laws of War; and is Customary and Moralenough; and red individuals carry the tools of it girt round theirhaunches, not without an air of pride, --which do thou nowise blame. While, see! so long as it is but dressed in hodden or russet; andRevolution, less frequent than War, has not yet got its Laws ofRevolution, but the hodden or russet individuals are Uncustomary--Oshrieking beloved brother blockheads of Mankind, let us close those widemouths of ours; let us cease shrieking, and begin considering! Chapter 3. 1. VII. September in Argonne. Plain, at any rate, is one thing: that the fear, whatever of fear thoseAristocrat enemies might need, has been brought about. The matter isgetting serious then! Sansculottism too has become a Fact, and seemsminded to assert itself as such? This huge mooncalf of Sansculottism, staggering about, as young calves do, is not mockable only, and softlike another calf; but terrible too, if you prick it; and, through itshideous nostrils, blows fire!--Aristocrats, with pale panic in theirhearts, fly towards covert; and a light rises to them over severalthings; or rather a confused transition towards light, whereby for themoment darkness is only darker than ever. But, What will become ofthis France? Here is a question! France is dancing its desert-waltz, asSahara does when the winds waken; in whirlblasts twenty-five millionsin number; waltzing towards Townhalls, Aristocrat Prisons, and ElectionCommittee-rooms; towards Brunswick and the Frontiers;--towards aNew Chapter of Universal History; if indeed it be not the Finis, andwinding-up of that! In Election Committee-rooms there is now no dubiety; but the work goesbravely along. The Convention is getting chosen, --really in a decisivespirit; in the Townhall we already date First year of the Republic. Some Two hundred of our best Legislators may be re-elected, the Mountainbodily: Robespierre, with Mayor Petion, Buzot, Curate Gregoire, Rabaut, some three score Old-Constituents; though we once had only 'thirtyvoices. ' All these; and along with them, friends long known toRevolutionary fame: Camille Desmoulins, though he stutters in speech;Manuel, Tallien and Company; Journalists Gorsas, Carra, Mercier, Louvetof Faublas; Clootz Speaker of Mankind; Collot d'Herbois, tearing apassion to rags; Fabre d'Eglantine, speculative Pamphleteer; Legendrethe solid Butcher; nay Marat, though rural France can hardly believeit, or even believe that there is a Marat except in print. Of MinisterDanton, who will lay down his Ministry for a Membership, we neednot speak. Paris is fervent; nor is the Country wanting to itself. Barbaroux, Rebecqui, and fervid Patriots are coming from Marseilles. Seven hundred and forty-five men (or indeed forty-nine, for Avignon nowsends Four) are gathering: so many are to meet; not so many are to part! Attorney Carrier from Aurillac, Ex-Priest Lebon from Arras, these shallboth gain a name. Mountainous Auvergne re-elects her Romme: hardy tillerof the soil, once Mathematical Professor; who, unconscious, carries inpetto a remarkable New Calendar, with Messidors, Pluvioses, and suchlike;--and having given it well forth, shall depart by the death theycall Roman. Sieyes old-Constituent comes; to make new Constitutions asmany as wanted: for the rest, peering out of his clear cautious eyes, he will cower low in many an emergency, and find silence safest. YoungSaint-Just is coming, deputed by Aisne in the North; more like a Studentthan a Senator: not four-and-twenty yet; who has written Books; a youthof slight stature, with mild mellow voice, enthusiast olive-complexion, and long dark hair. Feraud, from the far valley D'Aure in the folds ofthe Pyrenees, is coming; an ardent Republican; doomed to fame, at leastin death. All manner of Patriot men are coming: Teachers, Husbandmen, Priestsand Ex-Priests, Traders, Doctors; above all, Talkers, or theAttorney-species. Man-midwives, as Levasseur of the Sarthe, are notwanting. Nor Artists: gross David, with the swoln cheek, has longpainted, with genius in a state of convulsion; and will now legislate. The swoln cheek, choking his words in the birth, totally disqualifieshim as orator; but his pencil, his head, his gross hot heart, withgenius in a state of convulsion, will be there. A man bodily andmentally swoln-cheeked, disproportionate; flabby-large, instead ofgreat; weak withal as in a state of convulsion, not strong in a state ofcomposure: so let him play his part. Nor are naturalised Benefactors ofthe Species forgotten: Priestley, elected by the Orne Department, butdeclining: Paine the rebellious Needleman, by the Pas de Calais, whoaccepts. Few Nobles come, and yet not none. Paul Francois Barras, 'noble asthe Barrases, old as the rocks of Provence;' he is one. The reckless, shipwrecked man: flung ashore on the coast of the Maldives long ago, while sailing and soldiering as Indian Fighter; flung ashore since then, as hungry Parisian Pleasure-hunter and Half-pay, on many a Circe Island, with temporary enchantment, temporary conversion into beasthood andhoghood;--the remote Var Department has now sent him hither. A man ofheat and haste; defective in utterance; defective indeed in any thingto utter; yet not without a certain rapidity of glance, a certain swifttransient courage; who, in these times, Fortune favouring, may go far. He is tall, handsome to the eye, 'only the complexion a little yellow;'but 'with a robe of purple with a scarlet cloak and plume of tricolor, on occasions of solemnity, ' the man will look well. (Dictionnairedes Hommes Marquans, para Barras. ) Lepelletier Saint-Fargeau, Old-Constituent, is a kind of noble, and of enormous wealth; he toohas come hither:--to have the Pain of Death abolished? HaplessEx-Parlementeer! Nay, among our Sixty Old-Constituents, see Philipped'Orleans a Prince of the Blood! Not now d'Orleans: for, Feudalism beingswept from the world, he demands of his worthy friends the Electors ofParis, to have a new name of their choosing; whereupon ProcureurManuel, like an antithetic literary man, recommends Equality, Egalite. APhilippe Egalite therefore will sit; seen of the Earth and Heaven. Such a Convention is gathering itself together. Mere angry poultry inmoulting season; whom Brunswick's grenadiers and cannoneers willgive short account of. Would the weather only mend a little!(Bertrand-Moleville, Memoires, ii. 225. ) In vain, O Bertrand! The weather will not mend a whit:--nay even if itdid? Dumouriez Polymetis, though Bertrand knows it not, started frombrief slumber at Sedan, on that morning of the 29th of August; withstealthiness, with promptitude, audacity. Some three mornings afterthat, Brunswick, opening wide eyes, perceives the Passes of the Argonneall seized; blocked with felled trees, fortified with camps; and that itis a most shifty swift Dumouriez this, who has outwitted him! The manoeuvre may cost Brunswick 'a loss of three weeks, ' very fatal inthese circumstances. A Mountain-wall of forty miles lying between himand Paris: which he should have preoccupied;--which how now to getpossession of? Also the rain it raineth every day; and we are in ahungry Champagne Pouilleuse, a land flowing only with ditch-water. Howto cross this Mountain-wall of the Argonne; or what in the world to dowith it?--there are marchings and wet splashings by steep paths, with sackerments and guttural interjections; forcings of ArgonnePasses, --which unhappily will not force. Through the woods, volleyingWar reverberates, like huge gong-music, or Moloch's kettledrum, borneby the echoes; swoln torrents boil angrily round the foot of rocks, floating pale carcasses of men. In vain! Islettes Village, withits church-steeple, rises intact in the Mountain-pass, between theembosoming heights; your forced marchings and climbings have becomeforced slidings, and tumblings back. From the hill-tops thou seestnothing but dumb crags, and endless wet moaning woods; the ClermontVache (huge Cow that she is) disclosing herself (See Helen MariaWilliams. Letters, iii. 79-81. ) at intervals; flinging off hercloud-blanket, and soon taking it on again, drowned in the pouringHeaven. The Argonne Passes will not force: by must skirt the Argonne; goround by the end of it. But fancy whether the Emigrant Seigneurs have not got their brilliancydulled a little; whether that 'Foot Regiment in red-facings with nankeentrousers' could be in field-day order! In place of gasconading, a sortof desperation, and hydrophobia from excess of water, is threatening tosupervene. Young Prince de Ligne, son of that brave literary De Lignethe Thundergod of Dandies, fell backwards; shot dead in Grand-Pre, the Northmost of the Passes: Brunswick is skirting and rounding, laboriously, by the extremity of the South. Four days; days of a rain asof Noah, --without fire, without food! For fire you cut down green trees, and produce smoke; for food you eat green grapes, and produce colic, pestilential dysentery, (Greek). And the Peasants assassinate us, theydo not join us; shrill women cry shame on us, threaten to drawtheir very scissors on us! O ye hapless dulled-bright Seigneurs, and hydrophobic splashed Nankeens;--but O, ten times more, ye poorsackerment-ing ghastly-visaged Hessians and Hulans, fallen onyour backs; who had no call to die there, except compulsion andthree-halfpence a-day! Nor has Mrs. Le Blanc of the Golden Arm a goodtime of it, in her bower of dripping rushes. Assassinating Peasants arehanged; Old-Constituent Honourable members, though of venerable age, ride in carts with their hands tied; these are the woes of war. Thus they; sprawling and wriggling, far and wide, on the slopesand passes of the Argonne;--a loss to Brunswick of five-and-twentydisastrous days. There is wriggling and struggling; facing, backing, andright-about facing; as the positions shift, and the Argonne gets partlyrounded, partly forced:--but still Dumouriez, force him, round him asyou will, sticks like a rooted fixture on the ground; fixture with manyhinges; wheeling now this way, now that; shewing always new front, inthe most unexpected manner: nowise consenting to take himself away. Recruits stream up on him: full of heart; yet rather difficult todeal with. Behind Grand-Pre, for example, Grand-Pre which is on thewrong-side of the Argonne, for we are now forced and rounded, --the fullheart, in one of those wheelings and shewings of new front, did as itwere overset itself, as full hearts are liable to do; and there rose ashriek of sauve qui peut, and a death-panic which had nigh ruined all!So that the General had to come galloping; and, with thunder-words, withgesture, stroke of drawn sword even, check and rally, and bring back thesense of shame; (Dumouriez, Memoires, iii. 29. )--nay to seize the firstshriekers and ringleaders; 'shave their heads and eyebrows, ' and packthem forth into the world as a sign. Thus too (for really the rationsare short, and wet camping with hungry stomach brings bad humour) thereis like to be mutiny. Whereupon again Dumouriez 'arrives at the head oftheir line, with his staff, and an escort of a hundred huzzars. He hadplaced some squadrons behind them, the artillery in front; he said tothem: "As for you, for I will neither call you citizens, nor soldiers, nor my men (ni mes enfans), you see before you this artillery, behindyou this cavalry. You have dishonoured yourselves by crimes. If youamend, and grow to behave like this brave Army which you have the honourof belonging to, you will find in me a good father. But plunderers andassassins I do not suffer here. At the smallest mutiny I will have youshivered in pieces (hacher en pieces). Seek out the scoundrels thatare among you, and dismiss them yourselves; I hold you responsible forthem. "' (Ibid. , Memoires iii. 55. ) Patience, O Dumouriez! This uncertain heap of shriekers, mutineers, werethey once drilled and inured, will become a phalanxed mass of Fighters;and wheel and whirl, to order, swiftly like the wind or the whirlwind:tanned mustachio-figures; often barefoot, even bare-backed; with sinewsof iron; who require only bread and gunpowder: very Sons of Fire, theadroitest, hastiest, hottest ever seen perhaps since Attila's time. Theymay conquer and overrun amazingly, much as that same Attila did;--whoseAttila's-Camp and Battlefield thou now seest, on this very ground;(Helen Maria Williams, iii. 32. ) who, after sweeping bare the world, was, with difficulty, and days of tough fighting, checked here byRoman Aetius and Fortune; and his dust-cloud made to vanish in the Eastagain!-- Strangely enough, in this shrieking Confusion of a Soldiery, whichwe saw long since fallen all suicidally out of square in suicidalcollision, --at Nanci, or on the streets of Metz, where brave Bouillestood with drawn sword; and which has collided and ground itself topieces worse and worse ever since, down now to such a state: in thisshrieking Confusion, and not elsewhere, lies the first germ of returningOrder for France! Round which, we say, poor France nearly all grounddown suicidally likewise into rubbish and Chaos, will be glad to rally;to begin growing, and new-shaping her inorganic dust: very slowly, through centuries, through Napoleons, Louis Philippes, and other thelike media and phases, --into a new, infinitely preferable France, we canhope!-- These wheelings and movements in the region of the Argonne, which areall faithfully described by Dumouriez himself, and more interesting tous than Hoyle's or Philidor's best Game of Chess, let us, nevertheless, O Reader, entirely omit;--and hasten to remark two things: the firsta minute private, the second a large public thing. Our minute privatething is: the presence, in the Prussian host, in that war-game of theArgonne, of a certain Man, belonging to the sort called Immortal;who, in days since then, is becoming visible more and more, in thatcharacter, as the Transitory more and more vanishes; for from of oldit was remarked that when the Gods appear among men, it is seldom inrecognisable shape; thus Admetus' neatherds give Apollo a draught oftheir goatskin whey-bottle (well if they do not give him strokes withtheir ox-rungs), not dreaming that he is the Sungod! This man's name isJohann Wolfgang von Goethe. He is Herzog Weimar's Minister, come withthe small contingent of Weimar; to do insignificant unmilitary dutyhere; very irrecognizable to nearly all! He stands at present, withdrawn bridle, on the height near Saint-Menehould, making an experimenton the 'cannon-fever;' having ridden thither against persuasion, intothe dance and firing of the cannon-balls, with a scientific desire tounderstand what that same cannon-fever may be: 'The sound of them, ' sayshe, 'is curious enough; as if it were compounded of the humming of tops, the gurgling of water and the whistle of birds. By degrees you get avery uncommon sensation; which can only be described by similitude. Itseems as if you were in some place extremely hot, and at the same timewere completely penetrated by the heat of it; so that you feel as if youand this element you are in were perfectly on a par. The eyesight losesnothing of its strength or distinctness; and yet it is as if all thingshad got a kind of brown-red colour, which makes the situation and theobjects still more impressive on you. ' (Goethe, Campagne in Frankreich, Werke, xxx. 73. ) This is the cannon-fever, as a World-Poet feels it. --A man entirelyirrecognisable! In whose irrecognisable head, meanwhile, there verilyis the spiritual counterpart (and call it complement) of this same hugeDeath-Birth of the World; which now effectuates itself, outwardly in theArgonne, in such cannon-thunder; inwardly, in the irrecognisablehead, quite otherwise than by thunder! Mark that man, O Reader, as thememorablest of all the memorable in this Argonne Campaign. What we sayof him is not dream, nor flourish of rhetoric; but scientific historicfact; as many men, now at this distance, see or begin to see. But the large public thing we had to remark is this: That the Twentiethof September, 1792, was a raw morning covered with mist; that from threein the morning Sainte-Menehould, and those Villages and homesteadswe know of old were stirred by the rumble of artillery-wagons, by theclatter of hoofs, and many footed tramp of men: all manner of military, Patriot and Prussian, taking up positions, on the Heights of La Luneand other Heights; shifting and shoving, --seemingly in some dreadchess-game; which may the Heavens turn to good! The Miller of Valmy hasfled dusty under ground; his Mill, were it never so windy, willhave rest to-day. At seven in the morning the mist clears off: seeKellermann, Dumouriez' second in command, with 'eighteen pieces ofcannon, ' and deep-serried ranks, drawn up round that same silentWindmill, on his knoll of strength; Brunswick, also, with serried ranksand cannon, glooming over to him from the height of La Lune; only thelittle brook and its little dell now parting them. So that the much-longed-for has come at last! Instead of hunger anddysentery, we shall have sharp shot; and then!--Dumouriez, with forceand firm front, looks on from a neighbouring height; can help only withhis wishes, in silence. Lo, the eighteen pieces do bluster and bark, responsive to the bluster of La Lune; and thunder-clouds mount into theair; and echoes roar through all dells, far into the depths of ArgonneWood (deserted now); and limbs and lives of men fly dissipated, thisway and that. Can Brunswick make an impression on them? The dull-brightSeigneurs stand biting their thumbs: these Sansculottes seem not to flylike poultry! Towards noontide a cannon-shot blows Kellermann's horsefrom under him; there bursts a powder-cart high into the air, with knellheard over all: some swagging and swaying observable;--Brunswick willtry! "Camarades, " cries Kellermann, "Vive la Patria! Allons vaincre pourelle, Let us conquer. " "Live the Fatherland!" rings responsive, to thewelkin, like rolling-fire from side to side: our ranks are as firm asrocks; and Brunswick may recross the dell, ineffectual; regain his oldposition on La Lune; not unbattered by the way. And so, for the lengthof a September day, --with bluster and bark; with bellow far echoing! Thecannonade lasts till sunset; and no impression made. Till an hour aftersunset, the few remaining Clocks of the District striking Seven; at thislate time of day Brunswick tries again. With not a whit better fortune!He is met by rock-ranks, by shouts of Vive la Patrie; and driven back, not unbattered. Whereupon he ceases; retires 'to the Tavern of La Lune;'and sets to raising a redoute lest he be attacked! Verily so: ye dulled-bright Seigneurs, make of it what ye may. Ah, andFrance does not rise round us in mass; and the Peasants do not join us, but assassinate us: neither hanging nor any persuasion will inducethem! They have lost their old distinguishing love of King, andKing's-cloak, --I fear, altogether; and will even fight to be rid of it:that seems now their humour. Nor does Austria prosper, nor the siegeof Thionville. The Thionvillers, carrying their insolence to theepigrammatic pitch, have put a Wooden Horse on their walls, with abundle of hay hung from him, and this Inscription: 'When I finish myhay, you will take Thionville. ' (Hist. Parl. Xix. 177. ) To such heighthas the frenzy of mankind risen. The trenches of Thionville may shut: and what though those of Lilleopen? The Earth smiles not on us, nor the Heaven; but weeps and blearsitself, in sour rain, and worse. Our very friends insult us; we arewounded in the house of our friends: "His Majesty of Prussia had agreatcoat, when the rain came; and (contrary to all known laws) he putit on, though our two French Princes, the hope of their country, hadnone!" To which indeed, as Goethe admits, what answer could be made?(Goethe, xxx. 49. )--Cold and Hunger and Affront, Colic and Dysenteryand Death; and we here, cowering redouted, most unredoubtable, amid the'tattered corn-shocks and deformed stubble, ' on the splashy Height of LaLune, round the mean Tavern de La Lune!-- This is the Cannonade of Valmy; wherein the World-Poet experimentedon the cannon-fever; wherein the French Sansculottes did not fly likepoultry. Precious to France! Every soldier did his duty, and AlsatianKellermann (how preferable to old Luckner the dismissed!) began tobecome greater; and Egalite Fils, Equality Junior, a light gallantField-Officer, distinguished himself by intrepidity:--it is the sameintrepid individual who now, as Louis-Philippe, without the Equality, struggles, under sad circumstances, to be called King of the French fora season. Chapter 3. 1. VIII. Exeunt. But this Twentieth of September is otherwise a great day. For, observe, while Kellermann's horse was flying blown from under him at the Mill ofValmy, our new National Deputies, that shall be a NATIONAL CONVENTION, are hovering and gathering about the Hall of the Hundred Swiss; withintent to constitute themselves! On the morrow, about noontide, Camus the Archivist is busy 'verifyingtheir powers;' several hundreds of them already here. Whereupon the OldLegislative comes solemnly over, to merge its old ashes Phoenix-like inthe body of the new;--and so forthwith, returning all solemnly back tothe Salle de Manege, there sits a National Convention, Seven Hundredand Forty-nine complete, or complete enough; presided by Petion;--whichproceeds directly to do business. Read that reported afternoon's-debate, O Reader; there are few debates like it: dull reporting Moniteur itselfbecomes more dramatic than a very Shakespeare. For epigrammatic Manuelrises, speaks strange things; how the President shall have a guard ofhonour, and lodge in the Tuileries:--rejected. And Danton rises andspeaks; and Collot d'Herbois rises, and Curate Gregoire, and lameCouthon of the Mountain rises; and in rapid Meliboean stanzas, only afew lines each, they propose motions not a few: That the corner-stone ofour new Constitution is Sovereignty of the People; that our Constitutionshall be accepted by the People or be null; further that the Peopleought to be avenged, and have right Judges; that the Imposts mustcontinue till new order; that Landed and other Property be sacredforever; finally that 'Royalty from this day is abolished inFrance:'--Decreed all, before four o'clock strike, with acclamation ofthe world! (Hist. Parl. Xix. 19. ) The tree was all so ripe; only shakeit and there fall such yellow cart-loads. And so over in the Valmy Region, as soon as the news come, what stiris this, audible, visible from our muddy heights of La Lune? (Williams, iii. 71. ) Universal shouting of the French on their opposite hillside;caps raised on bayonets; and a sound as of Republique; Vive laRepublique borne dubious on the winds!--On the morrow morning, so tospeak, Brunswick slings his knapsacks before day, lights any fires hehas; and marches without tap of drum. Dumouriez finds ghastly symptomsin that camp; 'latrines full of blood!' (1st October, 1792; Dumouriez, iii. 73. ) The chivalrous King of Prussia, for he as we saw is herein person, may long rue the day; may look colder than ever on thesedulled-bright Seigneurs, and French Princes their Country's hope;--and, on the whole, put on his great-coat without ceremony, happy that hehas one. They retire, all retire with convenient despatch, through aChampagne trodden into a quagmire, the wild weather pouring on them;Dumouriez through his Kellermanns and Dillons pricking them a little inthe hinder parts. A little, not much; now pricking, now negotiating: forBrunswick has his eyes opened; and the Majesty of Prussia is a repentantMajesty. Nor has Austria prospered, nor the Wooden Horse of Thionville bitten hishay; nor Lille City surrendered itself. The Lille trenches opened, onthe 29th of the month; with balls and shells, and redhot balls; as ifnot trenches but Vesuvius and the Pit had opened. It was frightful, sayall eye-witnesses; but it is ineffectual. The Lillers have risen to suchtemper; especially after these news from Argonne and the East. Not aSans-indispensables in Lille that would surrender for a King's ransom. Redhot balls rain, day and night; 'six-thousand, ' or so, and bombs'filled internally with oil of turpentine which splashes up inflame;'--mainly on the dwellings of the Sansculottes and Poor; thestreets of the Rich being spared. But the Sansculottes get water-pails;form quenching-regulations, "The ball is in Peter's house!" "The ballis in John's!" They divide their lodging and substance with each other;shout Vive la Republique; and faint not in heart. A ball thundersthrough the main chamber of the Hotel-de-Ville, while the Commune isthere assembled: "We are in permanence, " says one, coldly, proceedingwith his business; and the ball remains permanent too, sticking in thewall, probably to this day. (Bombardement de Lille in Hist. Parl. Xx. 63-71. ) The Austrian Archduchess (Queen's Sister) will herself see red artilleryfired; in their over-haste to satisfy an Archduchess 'two mortarsexplode and kill thirty persons. ' It is in vain; Lille, often burning, is always quenched again; Lille will not yield. The very boys deftlywrench the matches out of fallen bombs: 'a man clutches a rolling ballwith his hat, which takes fire; when cool, they crown it with a bonnetrouge. ' Memorable also be that nimble Barber, who when the bomb burstbeside him, snatched up a shred of it, introduced soap and lather intoit, crying, "Voila mon plat a barbe, My new shaving-dish!" and shaved'fourteen people' on the spot. Bravo, thou nimble Shaver; worthy toshave old spectral Redcloak, and find treasures!--On the eighth dayof this desperate siege, the sixth day of October, Austria findingit fruitless, draws off, with no pleasurable consciousness; rapidly, Dumouriez tending thitherward; and Lille too, black with ashes andsmoulder, but jubilant skyhigh, flings its gates open. The Plat abarbe became fashionable; 'no Patriot of an elegant turn, ' says Mercierseveral years afterwards, 'but shaves himself out of the splinter of aLille bomb. ' Quid multa, Why many words? The Invaders are in flight; Brunswick'sHost, the third part of it gone to death, staggers disastrous along thedeep highways of Champagne; spreading out also into 'the fields, of atough spongy red-coloured clay;--like Pharaoh through a Red Sea ofmud, ' says Goethe; 'for he also lay broken chariots, and riders andfoot seemed sinking around. ' (Campagne in Frankreich, p. 103. ) On theeleventh morning of October, the World-Poet, struggling Northwards outof Verdun, which he had entered Southwards, some five weeks ago, inquite other order, discerned the following Phenomenon and formed part ofit: 'Towards three in the morning, without having had any sleep, we wereabout mounting our carriage, drawn up at the door; when an insuperableobstacle disclosed itself: for there rolled on already, between thepavement-stones which were crushed up into a ridge on each side, anuninterrupted column of sick-wagons through the Town, and all wastrodden as into a morass. While we stood waiting what could be madeof it, our Landlord the Knight of Saint-Louis pressed past us, withoutsalutation. ' He had been a Calonne's Notable in 1787, an Emigrant since;had returned to his home, jubilant, with the Prussians; but must nowforth again into the wide world, 'followed by a servant carrying alittle bundle on his stick. 'The activity of our alert Lisieux shone eminent; and, on this occasiontoo, brought us on: for he struck into a small gap of the wagon-row; andheld the advancing team back till we, with our six and our four horses, got intercalated; after which, in my light little coachlet, I couldbreathe freer. We were now under way; at a funeral pace, but still underway. The day broke; we found ourselves at the outlet of the Town, in atumult and turmoil without measure. All sorts of vehicles, few horsemen, innumerable foot-people, were crossing each other on the great esplanadebefore the Gate. We turned to the right, with our Column, towards Estain, on a limited highway, with ditches at each side. Self-preservation, in so monstrous a press, knew now no pity, norespect of aught. Not far before us there fell down a horse of anammunition-wagon: they cut the traces, and let it lie. And now as thethree others could not bring their load along, they cut them also loose, tumbled the heavy-packed vehicle into the ditch; and, with the smallestretardation, we had to drive on, right over the horse, which was justabout to rise; and I saw too clearly how its legs, under the wheels, went crashing and quivering. 'Horse and foot endeavoured to escape from the narrow laborious highwayinto the meadows: but these too were rained to ruin; overflowed by fullditches, the connexion of the footpaths every where interrupted. Fourgentlemanlike, handsome, well-dressed French soldiers waded for a timebeside our carriage; wonderfully clean and neat: and had such art ofpicking their steps, that their foot-gear testified no higher than theancle to the muddy pilgrimage these good people found themselves engagedin. 'That under such circumstances one saw, in ditches, in meadows, infields and crofts, dead horses enough, was natural to the case: by andby, however, you found them also flayed, the fleshy parts even cut away;sad token of the universal distress. 'Thus we fared on; every moment in danger, at the smallest stoppageon our own part, of being ourselves tumbled overboard; under whichcircumstances, truly, the careful dexterity of our Lisieux could not besufficiently praised. The same talent shewed itself at Estain; where wearrived towards noon; and descried, over the beautiful well-builtlittle Town, through streets and on squares, around and beside us, onesense-confusing tumult: the mass rolled this way and that; and, allstruggling forward, each hindered the other. Unexpectedly our carriagedrew up before a stately house in the market-place; master and mistressof the mansion saluted us in reverent distance. ' Dexterous Lisieux, though we knew it not, had said we were the King of Prussia's Brother! 'But now, from the ground-floor windows, looking over the wholemarket-place, we had the endless tumult lying, as it were, palpable. Allsorts of walkers, soldiers in uniform, marauders, stout but sorrowingcitizens and peasants, women and children, crushed and jostled eachother, amid vehicles of all forms: ammunition-wagons, baggage-wagons;carriages, single, double, and multiplex; such hundredfold miscellanyof teams, requisitioned or lawfully owned, making way, hitting together, hindering each other, rolled here to right and to left. Horned-cattletoo were struggling on; probably herds that had been put in requisition. Riders you saw few; but the elegant carriages of the Emigrants, many-coloured, lackered, gilt and silvered, evidently by the bestbuilders, caught your eye. (See Hermann and Dorothea (also by Goethe), Buch Kalliope. ) 'The crisis of the strait however arose further on a little; where thecrowded market-place had to introduce itself into a street, --straightindeed and good, but proportionably far too narrow. I have, in my life, seen nothing like it: the aspect of it might perhaps be compared to thatof a swoln river which has been raging over meadows and fields, and isnow again obliged to press itself through a narrow bridge, and flowon in its bounded channel. Down the long street, all visible fromour windows, there swelled continually the strangest tide: a highdouble-seated travelling-coach towered visible over the flood of things. We thought of the fair Frenchwomen we had seen in the morning. It wasnot they, however, it was Count Haugwitz; him you could look at, witha kind of sardonic malice, rocking onwards, step by step, there. '(Campagne in Frankreich, Goethe's Werke (Stuttgart, 1829), xxx. 133-137. ) In such untriumphant Procession has the Brunswick Manifesto issued! Nayin worse, 'in Negotiation with these miscreants, '--the first news ofwhich produced such a revulsion in the Emigrant nature, as put ourscientific World-Poet 'in fear for the wits of several. ' There is nohelp: they must fare on, these poor Emigrants, angry with all personsand things, and making all persons angry, in the hapless course theystruck into. Landlord and landlady testify to you, at tables-d'hote, howinsupportable these Frenchmen are: how, in spite of such humiliation, of poverty and probable beggary, there is ever the same struggle forprecedence, the same forwardness, and want of discretion. High inhonour, at the head of the table, you with your own eyes observe nota Seigneur but the automaton of a Seigneur, fallen into dotage; stillworshipped, reverently waited on, and fed. In miscellaneous seats, isa miscellany of soldiers, commissaries, adventurers; consuming silentlytheir barbarian victuals. 'On all brows is to be read a hard destiny;all are silent, for each has his own sufferings to bear, and looks forthinto misery without bounds. ' One hasty wanderer, coming in, and eatingwithout ungraciousness what is set before him, the landlord lets offalmost scot-free. "He is, " whispered the landlord to me, "the first ofthese cursed people I have seen condescend to taste our German blackbread. " (Ibid. 152. ) (Ibid. 210-12. ) And Dumouriez is in Paris; lauded and feasted; paraded in glitteringsaloons, floods of beautifullest blond-dresses and broadcloth-coatsflowing past him, endless, in admiring joy. One night, nevertheless, inthe splendour of one such scene, he sees himself suddenly apostrophisedby a squalid unjoyful Figure, who has come in uninvited, nay despite ofall lackeys; an unjoyful Figure! The Figure is come "in express missionfrom the Jacobins, " to inquire sharply, better then than later, touchingcertain things: "Shaven eyebrows of Volunteer Patriots, for instance?"Also "your threats of shivering in pieces?" Also, "why you have notchased Brunswick hotly enough?" Thus, with sharp croak, inquires theFigure. --"Ah, c'est vous qu'on appelle Marat, You are he they callMarat!" answers the General, and turns coldly on his heel. (Dumouriez, iii. 115. --Marat's account, In the Debats des Jacobins and Journal dela Republique (Hist. Parl. Xix. 317-21), agrees to the turning onthe heel, but strives to interpret it differently. )--"Marat!" Theblonde-gowns quiver like aspens; the dress-coats gather round; ActorTalma (for it is his house), and almost the very chandelier-lights, areblue: till this obscene Spectrum, or visual Appearance, vanish back intonative Night. General Dumouriez, in few brief days, is gone again, towards theNetherlands; will attack the Netherlands, winter though it be. AndGeneral Montesquiou, on the South-East, has driven in the SardinianMajesty; nay, almost without a shot fired, has taken Savoy from him, which longs to become a piece of the Republic. And General Custine, onthe North-East, has dashed forth on Spires and its Arsenal; and thenon Electoral Mentz, not uninvited, wherein are German Democrats and noshadow of an Elector now:--so that in the last days of October, FrauForster, a daughter of Heyne's, somewhat democratic, walking out of theGate of Mentz with her Husband, finds French Soldiers playing at bowlswith cannon-balls there. Forster trips cheerfully over one iron bomb, with "Live the Republic!" A black-bearded National Guard answers: "Ellevivra bien sans vous, It will probably live independently of you!"(Johann Georg Forster's Briefwechsel (Leipzig, 1829), i. 88. ) BOOK 3. II. REGICIDE Chapter 3. 2. I. The Deliberative. France therefore has done two things very completely: she has hurledback her Cimmerian Invaders far over the marches; and likewise she hasshattered her own internal Social Constitution, even to the minutestfibre of it, into wreck and dissolution. Utterly it is all altered: fromKing down to Parish Constable, all Authorities, Magistrates, Judges, persons that bore rule, have had, on the sudden, to alter themselves, sofar as needful; or else, on the sudden, and not without violence, tobe altered: a Patriot 'Executive Council of Ministers, ' with a PatriotDanton in it, and then a whole Nation and National Convention, havetaken care of that. Not a Parish Constable, in the furthest hamlet, whohas said De Par le Roi, and shewn loyalty, but must retire, making wayfor a new improved Parish Constable who can say De par la Republique. It is a change such as History must beg her readers to imagine, undescribed. An instantaneous change of the whole body-politic, thesoul-politic being all changed; such a change as few bodies, politicor other, can experience in this world. Say perhaps, such as poor NymphSemele's body did experience, when she would needs, with woman's humour, see her Olympian Jove as very Jove;--and so stood, poor Nymph, thismoment Semele, next moment not Semele, but Flame and a Statue of red-hotAshes! France has looked upon Democracy; seen it face to face. --TheCimmerian Invaders will rally, in humbler temper, with better or worseluck: the wreck and dissolution must reshape itself into a socialArrangement as it can and may. But as for this National Convention, which is to settle every thing, if it do, as Deputy Paine and Francegenerally expects, get all finished 'in a few months, ' we shall call ita most deft Convention. In truth, it is very singular to see how this mercurial French Peopleplunges suddenly from Vive le Roi to Vive la Republique; and goessimmering and dancing; shaking off daily (so to speak), and tramplinginto the dust, its old social garnitures, ways of thinking, rules ofexisting; and cheerfully dances towards the Ruleless, Unknown, with suchhope in its heart, and nothing but Freedom, Equality and Brotherhoodin its mouth. Is it two centuries, or is it only two years, since allFrance roared simultaneously to the welkin, bursting forth into soundand smoke at its Feast of Pikes, "Live the Restorer of French Liberty?"Three short years ago there was still Versailles and an Oeil-de-Boeuf:now there is that watched Circuit of the Temple, girt with dragon-eyedMunicipals, where, as in its final limbo, Royalty lies extinct. Inthe year 1789, Constituent Deputy Barrere 'wept, ' in his Break-of-DayNewspaper, at sight of a reconciled King Louis; and now in 1792, Convention Deputy Barrere, perfectly tearless, may be considering, whether the reconciled King Louis shall be guillotined or not. Old garnitures and social vestures drop off (we say) so fast, beingindeed quite decayed, and are trodden under the National dance. Andthe new vestures, where are they; the new modes and rules? Liberty, Equality, Fraternity: not vestures but the wish for vestures! The Nationis for the present, figuratively speaking, naked! It has no rule orvesture; but is naked, --a Sansculottic Nation. So far, therefore, in such manner have our Patriot Brissots, Guadetstriumphed. Vergniaud's Ezekiel-visions of the fall of thrones andcrowns, which he spake hypothetically and prophetically in the Spring ofthe year, have suddenly come to fulfilment in the Autumn. Our eloquentPatriots of the Legislative, like strong Conjurors, by the word of theirmouth, have swept Royalism with its old modes and formulas to the winds;and shall now govern a France free of formulas. Free of formulas! Andyet man lives not except with formulas; with customs, ways of doing andliving: no text truer than this; which will hold true from the Tea-tableand Tailor's shopboard up to the High Senate-houses, Solemn Temples; naythrough all provinces of Mind and Imagination, onwards to the outmostconfines of articulate Being, --Ubi homines sunt modi sunt! There aremodes wherever there are men. It is the deepest law of man's nature;whereby man is a craftsman and 'tool-using animal;' not the slave ofImpulse, Chance, and Brute Nature, but in some measure their lord. Twenty-five millions of men, suddenly stript bare of their modi, anddancing them down in that manner, are a terrible thing to govern! Eloquent Patriots of the Legislative, meanwhile, have precisely thisproblem to solve. Under the name and nickname of 'statesmen, hommesd'etat, ' of 'moderate-men, moderantins, ' of Brissotins, Rolandins, finally of Girondins, they shall become world-famous in solving it. Forthe Twenty-five millions are Gallic effervescent too;--filled both withhope of the unutterable, of universal Fraternity and Golden Age; andwith terror of the unutterable, Cimmerian Europe all rallying on us. Itis a problem like few. Truly, if man, as the Philosophers brag, did toany extent look before and after, what, one may ask, in many cases wouldbecome of him? What, in this case, would become of these Seven Hundredand Forty-nine men? The Convention, seeing clearly before and after, were a paralysed Convention. Seeing clearly to the length of its ownnose, it is not paralysed. To the Convention itself neither the work nor the method of doing it isdoubtful: To make the Constitution; to defend the Republic till that bemade. Speedily enough, accordingly, there has been a 'Committee ofthe Constitution' got together. Sieyes, Old-Constituent, Constitution-builder by trade; Condorcet, fit for better things; DeputyPaine, foreign Benefactor of the Species, with that 'redcarbuncled face, and the black beaming eyes;' Herault de Sechelles, Ex-Parlementeer, one of the handsomest men in France: these, withinferior guild-brethren, are girt cheerfully to the work; will once more'make the Constitution;' let us hope, more effectually than last time. For that the Constitution can be made, who doubts, --unless the Gospelof Jean Jacques came into the world in vain? True, our last Constitutiondid tumble within the year, so lamentably. But what then, except sortthe rubbish and boulders, and build them up again better? 'Widen yourbasis, ' for one thing, --to Universal Suffrage, if need be; excluderotten materials, Royalism and such like, for another thing. And inbrief, build, O unspeakable Sieyes and Company, unwearied! Frequentperilous downrushing of scaffolding and rubble-work, be that anirritation, no discouragement. Start ye always again, clearing aside thewreck; if with broken limbs, yet with whole hearts; and build, we say, in the name of Heaven, --till either the work do stand; or else mankindabandon it, and the Constitution-builders be paid off, with laughter andtears! One good time, in the course of Eternity, it was appointed thatthis of Social Contract too should try itself out. And so the Committeeof Constitution shall toil: with hope and faith;--with no disturbancefrom any reader of these pages. To make the Constitution, then, and return home joyfully in a fewmonths: this is the prophecy our National Convention gives of itself; bythis scientific program shall its operations and events go on. But fromthe best scientific program, in such a case, to the actual fulfilment, what a difference! Every reunion of men, is it not, as we often say, a reunion of incalculable Influences; every unit of it a microcosm ofInfluences;--of which how shall Science calculate or prophesy! Science, which cannot, with all its calculuses, differential, integral, and ofvariations, calculate the Problem of Three gravitating Bodies, ought tohold her peace here, and say only: In this National Convention there areSeven Hundred and Forty-nine very singular Bodies, that gravitate anddo much else;--who, probably in an amazing manner, will work theappointment of Heaven. Of National Assemblages, Parliaments, Congresses, which have long sat;which are of saturnine temperament; above all, which are not 'dreadfullyin earnest, ' something may be computed or conjectured: yet even theseare a kind of Mystery in progress, --whereby we see the JournalistReporter find livelihood: even these jolt madly out of the ruts, fromtime to time. How much more a poor National Convention, of Frenchvehemence; urged on at such velocity; without routine, without rut, track or landmark; and dreadfully in earnest every man of them! It isa Parliament literally such as there was never elsewhere in the world. Themselves are new, unarranged; they are the Heart and presiding centreof a France fallen wholly into maddest disarrangement. From all cities, hamlets, from the utmost ends of this France with its Twenty-fivemillion vehement souls, thick-streaming influences storm in on thatsame Heart, in the Salle de Manege, and storm out again: such fieryvenous-arterial circulation is the function of that Heart. Seven Hundredand Forty-nine human individuals, we say, never sat together on Earth, under more original circumstances. Common individuals most of them, ornot far from common; yet in virtue of the position they occupied, sonotable. How, in this wild piping of the whirlwind of human passions, with death, victory, terror, valour, and all height and all depthpealing and piping, these men, left to their own guidance, will speakand act? Readers know well that this French National Convention (quite contraryto its own Program) became the astonishment and horror of mankind; akind of Apocalyptic Convention, or black Dream become real; concerningwhich History seldom speaks except in the way of interjection: how itcovered France with woe, delusion, and delirium; and from its bosomthere went forth Death on the pale Horse. To hate this poor NationalConvention is easy; to praise and love it has not been found impossible. It is, as we say, a Parliament in the most original circumstances. Tous, in these pages, be it as a fuliginous fiery mystery, where Upper hasmet Nether, and in such alternate glare and blackness of darkness poorbedazzled mortals know not which is Upper, which is Nether; but rageand plunge distractedly, as mortals, in that case, will do. A Conventionwhich has to consume itself, suicidally; and become dead ashes--with itsWorld! Behoves us, not to enter exploratively its dim embroiled deeps;yet to stand with unwavering eyes, looking how it welters; what notablephases and occurrences it will successively throw up. One general superficial circumstance we remark with praise: the force ofPoliteness. To such depth has the sense of civilisation penetrated man'slife; no Drouet, no Legendre, in the maddest tug of war, can altogethershake it off. Debates of Senates dreadfully in earnest are seldom givenfrankly to the world; else perhaps they would surprise it. Did not theGrand Monarque himself once chase his Louvois with a pair of brandishedtongs? But reading long volumes of these Convention Debates, all in afoam with furious earnestness, earnest many times to the extent oflife and death, one is struck rather with the degree of continence theymanifest in speech; and how in such wild ebullition, there is still akind of polite rule struggling for mastery, and the forms of social lifenever altogether disappear. These men, though they menace with clenchedright-hands, do not clench one another by the collar; they draw nodaggers, except for oratorical purposes, and this not often: profaneswearing is almost unknown, though the Reports are frank enough; we findonly one or two oaths, oaths by Marat, reported in all. For the rest, that there is 'effervescence' who doubts? Effervescenceenough; Decrees passed by acclamation to-day, repealed by vociferationto-morrow; temper fitful, most rotatory changeful, always headlong! The'voice of the orator is covered with rumours;' a hundred 'honourableMembers rush with menaces towards the Left side of the Hall;' Presidenthas 'broken three bells in succession, '--claps on his hat, as signalthat the country is near ruined. A fiercely effervescent Old-GallicAssemblage!--Ah, how the loud sick sounds of Debate, and of Life, whichis a debate, sink silent one after another: so loud now, and in a littlewhile so low! Brennus, and those antique Gael Captains, in their wayto Rome, to Galatia, and such places, whither they were in the habit ofmarching in the most fiery manner, had Debates as effervescent, doubt itnot; though no Moniteur has reported them. They scolded in Celtic Welsh, those Brennuses; neither were they Sansculotte; nay rather breeches(braccae, say of felt or rough-leather) were the only thing they had;being, as Livy testifies, naked down to the haunches:--and, see, it isthe same sort of work and of men still, now when they have got coats, and speak nasally a kind of broken Latin! But on the whole does not TIMEenvelop this present National Convention; as it did those Brennuses, andancient August Senates in felt breeches? Time surely; and also Eternity. Dim dusk of Time, --or noon which will be dusk; and then there is night, and silence; and Time with all its sick noises is swallowed in the stillsea. Pity thy brother, O Son of Adam! The angriest frothy jargon thathe utters, is it not properly the whimpering of an infant which cannotspeak what ails it, but is in distress clearly, in the inwards of it;and so must squall and whimper continually, till its Mother take it, andit get--to sleep! This Convention is not four days old, and the melodious Meliboeanstanzas that shook down Royalty are still fresh in our ear, when therebursts out a new diapason, --unhappily, of Discord, this time. For speechhas been made of a thing difficult to speak of well: the SeptemberMassacres. How deal with these September Massacres; with the ParisCommune that presided over them? A Paris Commune hateful-terrible;before which the poor effete Legislative had to quail, and sit quiet. And now if a young omnipotent Convention will not so quail and sit, whatsteps shall it take? Have a Departmental Guard in its pay, answerthe Girondins, and Friends of Order! A Guard of National Volunteers, missioned from all the Eighty-three or Eighty-five Departments, for thatexpress end; these will keep Septemberers, tumultuous Communes in a duestate of submissiveness, the Convention in a due state of sovereignty. So have the Friends of Order answered, sitting in Committee, andreporting; and even a Decree has been passed of the required tenour. Naycertain Departments, as the Var or Marseilles, in mere expectation andassurance of a Decree, have their contingent of Volunteers already onmarch: brave Marseillese, foremost on the Tenth of August, will not behindmost here; 'fathers gave their sons a musket and twenty-five louis, 'says Barbaroux, 'and bade them march. ' Can any thing be properer? A Republic that will found itself on justicemust needs investigate September Massacres; a Convention calling itselfNational, ought it not to be guarded by a National force?--Alas, Reader, it seems so to the eye: and yet there is much to be said and argued. Thou beholdest here the small beginning of a Controversy, which merelogic will not settle. Two small well-springs, September, DepartmentalGuard, or rather at bottom they are but one and the same smallwell-spring; which will swell and widen into waters of bitterness; allmanner of subsidiary streams and brooks of bitterness flowing in, fromthis side and that; till it become a wide river of bitterness, ofrage and separation, --which can subside only into the Catacombs. This Departmental Guard, decreed by overwhelming majorities, and thenrepealed for peace's sake, and not to insult Paris, is again decreedmore than once; nay it is partially executed, and the very men that areto be of it are seen visibly parading the Paris streets, --shouting once, being overtaken with liquor: "A bas Marat, Down with Marat!" (Hist. Parl. Xx. 184. ) Nevertheless, decreed never so often, it is repealedjust as often; and continues, for some seven months, an angry noisyHypothesis only: a fair Possibility struggling to become a Reality, butwhich shall never be one; which, after endless struggling, shall, inFebruary next, sink into sad rest, --dragging much along with it. Sosingular are the ways of men and honourable Members. But on this fourth day of the Convention's existence, as we said, whichis the 25th of September 1792, there comes Committee Report on thatDecree of the Departmental Guard, and speech of repealing it; therecome denunciations of anarchy, of a Dictatorship, --which let theincorruptible Robespierre consider: there come denunciations of acertain Journal de la Republique, once called Ami du Peuple; and sothereupon there comes, visibly stepping up, visibly standing aloft onthe Tribune, ready to speak, the Bodily Spectrum of People's-FriendMarat! Shriek, ye Seven Hundred and Forty-nine; it is verily Marat, he and not another. Marat is no phantasm of the brain, or mere lyingimpress of Printer's Types; but a thing material, of joint and sinew, and a certain small stature: ye behold him there, in his blackness inhis dingy squalor, a living fraction of Chaos and Old Night; visiblyincarnate, desirous to speak. "It appears, " says Marat to the shriekingAssembly, "that a great many persons here are enemies of mine. " "All!All!" shriek hundreds of voices: enough to drown any People's-Friend. But Marat will not drown: he speaks and croaks explanation; croaks withsuch reasonableness, air of sincerity, that repentant pity smothersanger, and the shrieks subside or even become applauses. For thisConvention is unfortunately the crankest of machines: it shall bepointing eastward, with stiff violence, this moment; and then do buttouch some spring dexterously, the whole machine, clattering and jerkingseven-hundred-fold, will whirl with huge crash, and, next moment, ispointing westward! Thus Marat, absolved and applauded, victorious inthis turn of fence, is, as the Debate goes on, prickt at again bysome dexterous Girondin; and then and shrieks rise anew, and Decree ofAccusation is on the point of passing; till the dingy People's-Friendbobs aloft once more; croaks once more persuasive stillness, and theDecree of Accusation sinks, Whereupon he draws forth--a Pistol; andsetting it to his Head, the seat of such thought and prophecy, says: "Ifthey had passed their Accusation Decree, he, the People's-Friend, wouldhave blown his brains out. " A People's Friend has that faculty inhim. For the rest, as to this of the two hundred and sixty thousandAristocrat Heads, Marat candidly says, "C'est la mon avis, such is myopinion. " Also it is not indisputable: "No power on Earth can preventme from seeing into traitors, and unmasking them, "--by my superiororiginality of mind? (Moniteur Newspaper, Nos. 271, 280, 294, Anneepremiere; Moore's Journal, ii. 21, 157, &c. Which, however, mayperhaps, as in similar cases, be only a copy of the Newspaper. )An honourable member like this Friend of the People few terrestrialParliaments have had. We observe, however, that this first onslaught by the Friends of Order, as sharp and prompt as it was, has failed. For neither can Robespierre, summoned out by talk of Dictatorship, and greeted with the like rumouron shewing himself, be thrown into Prison, into Accusation;--not thoughBarbarous openly bear testimony against him, and sign it on paper. Withsuch sanctified meekness does the Incorruptible lift his seagreen cheekto the smiter; lift his thin voice, and with jesuitic dexterity plead, and prosper: asking at last, in a prosperous manner: "But what witnesseshas the Citoyen Barbaroux to support his testimony?" "Moi!" crieshot Rebecqui, standing up, striking his breast with both hands, and answering, "Me!" (Moniteur, ut supra; Seance du 25 Septembre. )Nevertheless the Seagreen pleads again, and makes it good: the longhurlyburly, 'personal merely, ' while so much public matter lies fallow, has ended in the order of the day. O Friends of the Gironde, why willyou occupy our august sessions with mere paltry Personalities, while thegrand Nationality lies in such a state?--The Gironde has touched, thisday, on the foul black-spot of its fair Convention Domain; has troddenon it, and yet not trodden it down. Alas, it is a well-spring, as wesaid, this black-spot; and will not tread down! Chapter 3. 2. II. The Executive. May we not conjecture therefore that round this grand enterpriseof Making the Constitution there will, as heretofore, very strangeembroilments gather, and questions and interests complicate themselves;so that after a few or even several months, the Convention will nothave settled every thing? Alas, a whole tide of questions comes rolling, boiling; growing ever wider, without end! Among which, apart from thisquestion of September and Anarchy, let us notice those, which emergeoftener than the others, and promise to become Leading Questions: of theArmies; of the Subsistences; thirdly, of the Dethroned King. As to the Armies, Public Defence must evidently be put on a properfooting; for Europe seems coalising itself again; one is apprehensiveeven England will join it. Happily Dumouriez prospers in the North;--naywhat if he should prove too prosperous, and become Liberticide, Murdererof Freedom!--Dumouriez prospers, through this winter season; yet notwithout lamentable complaints. Sleek Pache, the Swiss Schoolmaster, he that sat frugal in his Alley, the wonder of neighbours, has gotlately--whither thinks the Reader? To be Minister of war! Madame Roland, struck with his sleek ways, recommended him to her Husband as Clerk: thesleek Clerk had no need of salary, being of true Patriotic temper; hewould come with a bit of bread in his pocket, to save dinner and time;and, munching incidentally, do three men's work in a day, punctual, silent, frugal, --the sleek Tartuffe that he was. Wherefore Roland, inthe late Overturn, recommended him to be War-Minister. And now, it wouldseem, he is secretly undermining Roland; playing into the hands of yourhotter Jacobins and September Commune; and cannot, like strict Roland, be the Veto des Coquins! (Madame Roland, Memoires, ii. 237, &c. ) How the sleek Pache might mine and undermine, one knows not well; thishowever one does know: that his War-Office has become a den of thievesand confusion, such as all men shudder to behold. That the CitizenHassenfratz, as Head-Clerk, sits there in bonnet rouge, in rapine, in violence, and some Mathematical calculation; a most insolent, red-nightcapped man. That Pache munches his pocket-loaf, amidhead-clerks and sub-clerks, and has spent all the War-Estimates: thatFurnishers scour in gigs, over all districts of France, and drivebargains;--and lastly that the Army gets next to no furniture. No shoes, though it is winter; no clothes; some have not even arms: 'In theArmy of the South, ' complains an honourable Member, 'there are thirtythousand pairs of breeches wanting, '--a most scandalous want. Roland's strict soul is sick to see the course things take: but what canhe do? Keep his own Department strict; rebuke, and repress wheresoeverpossible; at lowest, complain. He can complain in Letter after Letter, to a National Convention, to France, to Posterity, the Universe; growever more querulous indignant;--till at last may he not grow wearisome?For is not this continual text of his, at bottom a rather barren one:How astonishing that in a time of Revolt and abrogation of all Lawbut Cannon Law, there should be such Unlawfulness? IntrepidVeto-of-Scoundrels, narrow-faithful, respectable, methodic man, workthou in that manner, since happily it is thy manner, and wear thyselfaway; though ineffectual, not profitless in it--then nor now!--The braveDame Roland, bravest of all French women, begins to have misgivings:the figure of Danton has too much of the 'Sardanapalus character, ' at aRepublican Rolandin Dinner-table: Clootz, Speaker of Mankind, proses sadstuff about a Universal Republic, or union of all Peoples and Kindredsin one and the same Fraternal Bond; of which Bond, how it is to be tied, one unhappily sees not. It is also an indisputable, unaccountable or accountable fact thatGrains are becoming scarcer and scarcer. Riots for grain, tumultuousAssemblages demanding to have the price of grain fixed abound far andnear. The Mayor of Paris and other poor Mayors are like to have theirdifficulties. Petion was re-elected Mayor of Paris; but has declined;being now a Convention Legislator. Wise surely to decline: for, besidesthis of Grains and all the rest, there is in these times an Improvisedinsurrectionary Commune passing into an Elected legal one; gettingtheir accounts settled, --not without irritancy! Petion has declined:nevertheless many do covet and canvass. After months of scrutinising, balloting, arguing and jargoning, one Doctor Chambon gets the post ofhonour: who will not long keep it; but be, as we shall see, literallycrushed out of it. (Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans, para Chambon. ) Think also if the private Sansculotte has not his difficulties, in atime of dearth! Bread, according to the People's-Friend, may be some'six sous per pound, a day's wages some fifteen;' and grim winter here. How the Poor Man continues living, and so seldom starves, by miracle!Happily, in these days, he can enlist, and have himself shot by theAustrians, in an unusually satisfactory manner: for the Rights ofMan. --But Commandant Santerre, in this so straitened condition of theflour-market, and state of Equality and Liberty, proposes, throughthe Newspapers, two remedies, or at least palliatives: First, that allclasses of men should live, two days of the week, on potatoes; thensecond, that every man should hang his dog. Hereby, as the Commandantthinks, the saving, which indeed he computes to so many sacks, wouldbe very considerable. A cheerfuller form of inventive-stupidity thanCommandant Santerre's dwells in no human soul. Inventive-stupidity, imbedded in health, courage and good-nature: much to be commended. "Mywhole strength, " he tells the Convention once, "is, day and night, atthe service of my fellow-Citizens: if they find me worthless, they willdismiss me; I will return and brew beer. " (Moniteur in Hist. Parl. Xx. 412. ) Or figure what correspondences a poor Roland, Minister of the Interior, must have, on this of Grains alone! Free-trade in Grain, impossibilityto fix the Prices of Grain; on the other hand, clamour and necessityto fix them: Political Economy lecturing from the Home Office, withdemonstration clear as Scripture;--ineffectual for the empty NationalStomach. The Mayor of Chartres, like to be eaten himself, cries to theConvention: the Convention sends honourable Members in Deputation; whoendeavour to feed the multitude by miraculous spiritual methods; butcannot. The multitude, in spite of all Eloquence, come bellowing round;will have the Grain-Prices fixed, and at a moderate elevation; orelse--the honourable Deputies hanged on the spot! The honourableDeputies, reporting this business, admit that, on the edge of horriddeath, they did fix, or affect to fix the Price of Grain: for which, be it also noted, the Convention, a Convention that will not be trifledwith, sees good to reprimand them. (Hist. Parl. Xx. 431-440. ) But as to the origin of these Grain Riots, is it not most probably yoursecret Royalists again? Glimpses of Priests were discernible in this ofChartres, --to the eye of Patriotism. Or indeed may not 'the root of itall lie in the Temple Prison, in the heart of a perjured King, ' well aswe guard him? (Ibid. 409. ) Unhappy perjured King!--And so there shallbe Baker's Queues, by and by, more sharp-tempered than ever: on everyBaker's door-rabbet an iron ring, and coil of rope; whereon, withfirm grip, on this side and that, we form our Queue: but mischievousdeceitful persons cut the rope, and our Queue becomes a ravelment;wherefore the coil must be made of iron chain. (Mercier, Nouveau Paris. )Also there shall be Prices of Grain well fixed; but then no grainpurchasable by them: bread not to be had except by Ticket from theMayor, few ounces per mouth daily; after long swaying, with firm grip, on the chain of the Queue. And Hunger shall stalk direful; and Wrath andSuspicion, whetted to the Preternatural pitch, shall stalk;--asthose other preternatural 'shapes of Gods in their wrathfulness' werediscerned stalking, 'in glare and gloom of that fire-ocean, ' when TroyTown fell!-- Chapter 3. 2. III. Discrowned. But the question more pressing than all on the Legislator, as yet, isthis third: What shall be done with King Louis? King Louis, now King and Majesty to his own family alone, in their ownPrison Apartment alone, has been Louis Capet and the Traitor Veto withthe rest of France. Shut in his Circuit of the Temple, he has heard andseen the loud whirl of things; yells of September Massacres, Brunswickwar-thunders dying off in disaster and discomfiture; he passive, aspectator merely;--waiting whither it would please to whirl with him. From the neighbouring windows, the curious, not without pity, might seehim walk daily, at a certain hour, in the Temple Garden, with his Queen, Sister and two Children, all that now belongs to him in this Earth. (Moore, i. 123; ii. 224, &c. ) Quietly he walks and waits; for he is notof lively feelings, and is of a devout heart. The wearied Irresolutehas, at least, no need of resolving now. His daily meals, lessons to hisSon, daily walk in the Garden, daily game at ombre or drafts, fill upthe day: the morrow will provide for itself. The morrow indeed; and yet How? Louis asks, How? France, with perhapsstill more solicitude, asks, How? A King dethroned by insurrection isverily not easy to dispose of. Keep him prisoner, he is a secret centrefor the Disaffected, for endless plots, attempts and hopes of theirs. Banish him, he is an open centre for them; his royal war-standard, withwhat of divinity it has, unrolls itself, summoning the world. Put him todeath? A cruel questionable extremity that too: and yet the likeliest inthese extreme circumstances, of insurrectionary men, whose own life anddeath lies staked: accordingly it is said, from the last step of thethrone to the first of the scaffold there is short distance. But, on the whole, we will remark here that this business of Louislooks altogether different now, as seen over Seas and at the distanceof forty-four years, than it looked then, in France, and struggling, confused all round one! For indeed it is a most lying thing that samePast Tense always: so beautiful, sad, almost Elysian-sacred, 'in themoonlight of Memory, ' it seems; and seems only. For observe: always, onemost important element is surreptitiously (we not noticing it) withdrawnfrom the Past Time: the haggard element of Fear! Not there does Feardwell, nor Uncertainty, nor Anxiety; but it dwells here; haunting us, tracking us; running like an accursed ground-discord through all themusic-tones of our Existence;--making the Tense a mere Present one! Justso is it with this of Louis. Why smite the fallen? asks Magnanimity, outof danger now. He is fallen so low this once-high man; no criminal nortraitor, how far from it; but the unhappiest of Human Solecisms: whom ifabstract Justice had to pronounce upon, she might well become concretePity, and pronounce only sobs and dismissal! So argues retrospective Magnanimity: but Pusillanimity, present, prospective? Reader, thou hast never lived, for months, under therustle of Prussian gallows-ropes; never wert thou portion of aNational Sahara-waltz, Twenty-five millions running distracted tofight Brunswick! Knights Errant themselves, when they conquered Giants, usually slew the Giants: quarter was only for other Knights Errant, who knew courtesy and the laws of battle. The French Nation, insimultaneous, desperate dead-pull, and as if by miracle of madness, has pulled down the most dread Goliath, huge with the growth of tencenturies; and cannot believe, though his giant bulk, covering acres, lies prostrate, bound with peg and packthread, that he will not riseagain, man-devouring; that the victory is not partly a dream. Terrorhas its scepticism; miraculous victory its rage of vengeance. Then as tocriminalty, is the prostrated Giant, who will devour us if he rise, aninnocent Giant? Curate Gregoire, who indeed is now Constitutional BishopGregoire, asserts, in the heat of eloquence, that Kingship by the verynature of it is a crime capital; that Kings' Houses are as wild-beasts'dens. (Moniteur, Seance du 21 Septembre, Annee 1er, 1792. ) Lastlyconsider this: that there is on record a Trial of Charles First! Thisprinted Trial of Charles First is sold and read every where at present:(Moore's Journal, ii. 165. )--Quelle spectacle! Thus did the EnglishPeople judge their Tyrant, and become the first of Free Peoples: whichfeat, by the grace of Destiny, may not France now rival? Scepticismof terror, rage of miraculous victory, sublime spectacle to theuniverse, --all things point one fatal way. Such leading questions, and their endless incidental ones: of SeptemberAnarchists and Departmental Guard; of Grain Riots, plaintiff InteriorMinisters; of Armies, Hassenfratz dilapidations; and what is to bedone with Louis, --beleaguer and embroil this Convention; which wouldso gladly make the Constitution rather. All which questions too, aswe often urge of such things, are in growth; they grow in every Frenchhead; and can be seen growing also, very curiously, in this mightywelter of Parliamentary Debate, of Public Business which the Conventionhas to do. A question emerges, so small at first; is put off, submerged;but always re-emerges bigger than before. It is a curious, indeed anindescribable sort of growth which such things have. We perceive, however, both by its frequent re-emergence and by its rapidenlargement of bulk, that this Question of King Louis will take the leadof all the rest. And truly, in that case, it will take the lead in amuch deeper sense. For as Aaron's Rod swallowed all the other Serpents;so will the Foremost Question, whichever may get foremost, absorb allother questions and interests; and from it and the decision of it willthey all, so to speak, be born, or new-born, and have shape, physiognomyand destiny corresponding. It was appointed of Fate that, in thiswide-weltering, strangely growing, monstrous stupendous imbroglioof Convention Business, the grand First-Parent of all the questions, controversies, measures and enterprises which were to be evolved thereto the world's astonishment, should be this Question of King Louis. Chapter 3. 2. IV. The Loser pays. The Sixth of November, 1792, was a great day for the Republic:outwardly, over the Frontiers; inwardly, in the Salle de Manege. Outwardly: for Dumouriez, overrunning the Netherlands, did, on thatday, come in contact with Saxe-Teschen and the Austrians; Dumouriezwide-winged, they wide-winged; at and around the village of Jemappes, near Mons. And fire-hail is whistling far and wide there, the great gunsplaying, and the small; so many green Heights getting fringed and manedwith red Fire. And Dumouriez is swept back on this wing, and swept backon that, and is like to be swept back utterly; when he rushes up inperson, the prompt Polymetis; speaks a prompt word or two; and then, with clear tenor-pipe, 'uplifts the Hymn of the Marseillese, entonna laMarseillaise, ' (Dumouriez, Memoires, iii. 174. ) ten thousand tenor orbass pipes joining; or say, some Forty Thousand in all; for every heartleaps at the sound: and so with rhythmic march-melody, waxing everquicker, to double and to treble quick, they rally, they advance, they rush, death-defying, man-devouring; carry batteries, redoutes, whatsoever is to be carried; and, like the fire-whirlwind, sweep allmanner of Austrians from the scene of action. Thus, through the handsof Dumouriez, may Rouget de Lille, in figurative speech, be said tohave gained, miraculously, like another Orpheus, by his Marseillesefiddle-strings (fidibus canoris) a Victory of Jemappes; and conqueredthe Low Countries. Young General Egalite, it would seem, shone brave among the braveston this occasion. Doubtless a brave Egalite;--whom however does notDumouriez rather talk of oftener than need were? The Mother Society hasher own thoughts. As for the Elder Egalite he flies low at this time;appears in the Convention for some half-hour daily, with rubicund, pre-occupied, or impressive quasi-contemptuous countenance; and thentakes himself away. (Moore, ii. 148. ) The Netherlands are conquered, atleast overrun. Jacobin missionaries, your Prolys, Pereiras, followin the train of the Armies; also Convention Commissioners, meltingchurch-plate, revolutionising and remodelling--among whom Danton, inbrief space, does immensities of business; not neglecting his own wagesand trade-profits, it is thought. Hassenfratz dilapidates at home;Dumouriez grumbles and they dilapidate abroad: within the walls there issinning, and without the walls there is sinning. But in the Hall of the Convention, at the same hour with this victoryof Jemappes, there went another thing forward: Report, of great length, from the proper appointed Committee, on the Crimes of Louis. TheGalleries listen breathless; take comfort, ye Galleries: Deputy Valaze, Reporter on this occasion, thinks Louis very criminal; and that, ifconvenient, he should be tried;--poor Girondin Valaze, who may betried himself, one day! Comfortable so far. Nay here comes a secondCommittee-reporter, Deputy Mailhe, with a Legal Argument, very prosy toread now, very refreshing to hear then, That, by the Law of the Country, Louis Capet was only called Inviolable by a figure of rhetoric; but atbottom was perfectly violable, triable; that he can, and even should betried. This Question of Louis, emerging so often as an angry confusedpossibility, and submerging again, has emerged now in an articulateshape. Patriotism growls indignant joy. The so-called reign of Equality isnot to be a mere name, then, but a thing! Try Louis Capet? scornfullyejaculates Patriotism: Mean criminals go to the gallows for a purse cut;and this chief criminal, guilty of a France cut; of a France slashedasunder with Clotho-scissors and Civil war; with his victims 'twelvehundred on the Tenth of August alone' lying low in the Catacombs, fattening the passes of Argonne Wood, of Valmy and far Fields; he, such chief criminal, shall not even come to the bar?--For, alas, OPatriotism! add we, it was from of old said, The loser pays! It ishe who has to pay all scores, run up by whomsoever; on him must allbreakages and charges fall; and the twelve hundred on the Tenth ofAugust are not rebel traitors, but victims and martyrs: such is the lawof quarrel. Patriotism, nothing doubting, watches over this Question of the Trial, now happily emerged in an articulate shape; and will see it to maturity, if the gods permit. With a keen solicitude Patriotism watches; gettingever keener, at every new difficulty, as Girondins and false brothersinterpose delays; till it get a keenness as of fixed-idea, and will havethis Trial and no earthly thing instead of it, --if Equality be not aname. Love of Equality; then scepticism of terror, rage of victory, sublime spectacle of the universe: all these things are strong. But indeed this Question of the Trial, is it not to all persons a mostgrave one; filling with dubiety many a Legislative head! Regicide? asksthe Gironde Respectability: To kill a king, and become the horror ofrespectable nations and persons? But then also, to save a king; to loseone's footing with the decided Patriot; and undecided Patriot, thoughnever so respectable, being mere hypothetic froth and no footing?--Thedilemma presses sore; and between the horns of it you wriggle round andround. Decision is nowhere, save in the Mother Society and her Sons. These have decided, and go forward: the others wriggle round uneasilywithin their dilemma-horns, and make way nowhither. Chapter 3. 2. V. Stretching of Formulas. But how this Question of the Trial grew laboriously, through the weeksof gestation, now that it has been articulated or conceived, weresuperfluous to trace here. It emerged and submerged among the infiniteof questions and embroilments. The Veto of Scoundrels writes plaintiveLetters as to Anarchy; 'concealed Royalists, ' aided by Hunger, produceRiots about Grain. Alas, it is but a week ago, these Girondins made anew fierce onslaught on the September Massacres! For, one day, among the last of October, Robespierre, being summoned tothe tribune by some new hint of that old calumny of the Dictatorship, was speaking and pleading there, with more and more comfort to himself;till, rising high in heart, he cried out valiantly: Is there any manhere that dare specifically accuse me? "Moi!" exclaimed one. Pause ofdeep silence: a lean angry little Figure, with broad bald brow, strodeswiftly towards the tribune, taking papers from its pocket: "I accusethee, Robespierre, "--I, Jean Baptiste Louvet! The Seagreen becametallow-green; shrinking to a corner of the tribune: Danton cried, "Speak, Robespierre, there are many good citizens that listen;" but thetongue refused its office. And so Louvet, with a shrill tone, read andrecited crime after crime: dictatorial temper, exclusive popularity, bullying at elections, mob-retinue, September Massacres;--till all theConvention shrieked again, and had almost indicted the Incorruptiblethere on the spot. Never did the Incorruptible run such a risk. Louvet, to his dying day, will regret that the Gironde did not take a bolderattitude, and extinguish him there and then. Not so, however: the Incorruptible, about to be indicted in this suddenmanner, could not be refused a week of delay. That week, he is not idle;nor is the Mother Society idle, --fierce-tremulous for her chosen son. He is ready at the day with his written Speech; smooth as a JesuitDoctor's; and convinces some. And now? Why, now lazy Vergniaud does notrise with Demosthenic thunder; poor Louvet, unprepared, can do littleor nothing: Barrere proposes that these comparatively despicable'personalities' be dismissed by order of the day! Order of the day itaccordingly is. Barbaroux cannot even get a hearing; not though he rushdown to the Bar, and demand to be heard there as a petitioner. (Louvet, Memoires (Paris, 1823) p. 52; Moniteur (Seances du 29 Octobre, 5Novembre, 1792); Moore (ii. 178), &c. ) The convention, eager for publicbusiness (with that first articulate emergence of the Trial just comingon), dismisses these comparative miseres and despicabilities: spleneticLouvet must digest his spleen, regretfully for ever: Robespierre, dearto Patriotism, is dearer for the dangers he has run. This is the second grand attempt by our Girondin Friends of Order, toextinguish that black-spot in their domain; and we see they have made itfar blacker and wider than before! Anarchy, September Massacre: it is athing that lies hideous in the general imagination; very detestable tothe undecided Patriot, of Respectability: a thing to be harped on asoften as need is. Harp on it, denounce it, trample it, ye GirondinPatriots:--and yet behold, the black-spot will not trample down; it willonly, as we say, trample blacker and wider: fools, it is no black-spotof the surface, but a well-spring of the deep! Consider rightly, it isthe apex of the everlasting Abyss, this black-spot, looking up as waterthrough thin ice;--say, as the region of Nether Darkness through yourthin film of Gironde Regulation and Respectability; trample it not, lestthe film break, and then--! The truth is, if our Gironde Friends had an understanding of it, wherewere French Patriotism, with all its eloquence, at this moment, had notthat same great Nether Deep, of Bedlam, Fanaticism and Popular wrath andmadness, risen unfathomable on the Tenth of August? French Patriotismwere an eloquent Reminiscence; swinging on Prussian gibbets. Nay, where, in few months, were it still, should the same great Nether Deepsubside?--Nay, as readers of Newspapers pretend to recollect, thishatefulness of the September Massacre is itself partly an after-thought:readers of Newspapers can quote Gorsas and various Brissotins approvingof the September Massacre, at the time it happened; and calling it asalutary vengeance! (See Hist. Parl. Xvii. 401; Newspapers by Gorsas andothers, cited ibid. 428. ) So that the real grief, after all, were notso much righteous horror, as grief that one's own power was departing?Unhappy Girondins! In the Jacobin Society, therefore, the decided Patriot complains thathere are men who with their private ambitions and animosities, will ruinLiberty, Equality, and Brotherhood, all three: they check the spirit ofPatriotism, throw stumbling-blocks in its way; and instead of pushingon, all shoulders at the wheel, will stand idle there, spitefullyclamouring what foul ruts there are, what rude jolts we give! To whichthe Jacobin Society answers with angry roar;--with angry shriek, for there are Citoyennes too, thick crowded in the galleries here. Citoyennes who bring their seam with them, or their knitting-needles;and shriek or knit as the case needs; famed Tricoteuses, PatriotKnitters;--Mere Duchesse, or the like Deborah and Mother of theFaubourgs, giving the keynote. It is a changed Jacobin Society; and astill changing. Where Mother Duchess now sits, authentic Duchesses havesat. High-rouged dames went once in jewels and spangles; now, instead ofjewels, you may take the knitting-needles and leave the rouge: therouge will gradually give place to natural brown, clean washed or evenunwashed; and Demoiselle Theroigne herself get scandalously fustigated. Strange enough: it is the same tribune raised in mid-air, where a highMirabeau, a high Barnave and Aristocrat Lameths once thundered: whomgradually your Brissots, Guadets, Vergniauds, a hotter style of Patriotsin bonnet rouge, did displace; red heat, as one may say, supersedinglight. And now your Brissots in turn, and Brissotins, Rolandins, Girondins, are becoming supernumerary; must desert the sittings, orbe expelled: the light of the Mighty Mother is burning not red butblue!--Provincial Daughter-Societies loudly disapprove these things;loudly demand the swift reinstatement of such eloquent Girondins, theswift 'erasure of Marat, radiation de Marat. ' The Mother Society, so faras natural reason can predict, seems ruining herself. Nevertheless shehas, at all crises, seemed so; she has a preternatural life in her, andwill not ruin. But, in a fortnight more, this great Question of the Trial, while thefit Committee is assiduously but silently working on it, receivesan unexpected stimulus. Our readers remember poor Louis's turnfor smithwork: how, in old happier days, a certain Sieur Gamainof Versailles was wont to come over, and instruct him inlock-making;--often scolding him, they say for his numbness. By whom, nevertheless, the royal Apprentice had learned something of that craft. Hapless Apprentice; perfidious Master-Smith! For now, on this 20th ofNovember 1792, dingy Smith Gamain comes over to the Paris Municipality, over to Minister Roland, with hints that he, Smith Gamain, knows athing; that, in May last, when traitorous Correspondence was so brisk, he and the royal Apprentice fabricated an 'Iron Press, Armoire de Fer, 'cunningly inserting the same in a wall of the royal chamber in theTuileries; invisible under the wainscot; where doubtless it stillsticks! Perfidious Gamain, attended by the proper Authorities, finds thewainscot panel which none else can find; wrenches it up; disclosesthe Iron Press, --full of Letters and Papers! Roland clutches them out;conveys them over in towels to the fit assiduous Committee, which sitshard by. In towels, we say, and without notarial inventory; an oversighton the part of Roland. Here, however, are Letters enough: which disclose to a demonstration theCorrespondence of a traitorous self-preserving Court; and this not withTraitors only, but even with Patriots, so-called! Barnave's treason, ofCorrespondence with the Queen, and friendly advice to her, ever sincethat Varennes Business, is hereby manifest: how happy that we have him, this Barnave, lying safe in the Prison of Grenoble, since Septemberlast, for he had long been suspect! Talleyrand's treason, many a man'streason, if not manifest hereby, is next to it. Mirabeau's treason:wherefore his Bust in the Hall of the Convention 'is veiled with gauze, 'till we ascertain. Alas, it is too ascertainable! His Bust in the Hallof the Jacobins, denounced by Robespierre from the tribune in mid-air, is not veiled, it is instantly broken to sherds; a Patriot mountingswiftly with a ladder, and shivering it down on the floor;--it andothers: amid shouts. (Journal des Debats des Jacobins in Hist. Parl. Xxii. 296. ) Such is their recompense and amount of wages, at thisdate: on the principle of supply and demand! Smith Gamain, inadequatelyrecompensed for the present, comes, some fifteen months after, with ahumble Petition; setting forth that no sooner was that important IronPress finished off by him, than (as he now bethinks himself) Louis gavehim a large glass of wine. Which large glass of wine did produce inthe stomach of Sieur Gamain the terriblest effects, evidentlytending towards death, and was then brought up by an emetic; but has, notwithstanding, entirely ruined the constitution of Sieur Gamain; sothat he cannot work for his family (as he now bethinks himself). The recompense of which is 'Pension of Twelve Hundred Francs, ' and'honourable mention. ' So different is the ratio of demand and supply atdifferent times. Thus, amid obstructions and stimulating furtherances, has the Questionof the Trial to grow; emerging and submerging; fostered by solicitousPatriotism. Of the Orations that were spoken on it, of the painfullydevised Forms of Process for managing it, the Law Arguments to prove itlawful, and all the infinite floods of Juridical and other ingenuity andoratory, be no syllable reported in this History. Lawyer ingenuity isgood: but what can it profit here? If the truth must be spoken, O augustSenators, the only Law in this case is: Vae victis, the loser pays!Seldom did Robespierre say a wiser word than the hint he gave to thateffect, in his oration, that it was needless to speak of Law, that here, if never elsewhere, our Right was Might. An oration admired almost toecstasy by the Jacobin Patriot: who shall say that Robespierre is not athorough-going man; bold in Logic at least? To the like effect, orstill more plainly, spake young Saint-Just, the black-haired, mild-tonedyouth. Danton is on mission, in the Netherlands, during this preliminarywork. The rest, far as one reads, welter amid Law of Nations, SocialContract, Juristics, Syllogistics; to us barren as the East wind. Infact, what can be more unprofitable than the sight of Seven Hundredand Forty-nine ingenious men, struggling with their whole force andindustry, for a long course of weeks, to do at bottom this: To stretchout the old Formula and Law Phraseology, so that it may cover the new, contradictory, entirely uncoverable Thing? Whereby the poor Formula doesbut crack, and one's honesty along with it! The thing that ispalpably hot, burning, wilt thou prove it, by syllogism, to be afreezing-mixture? This of stretching out Formulas till they crack is, especially in times of swift change, one of the sorrowfullest tasks poorHumanity has. Chapter 3. 2. VI. At the Bar. Meanwhile, in a space of some five weeks, we have got to anotheremerging of the Trial, and a more practical one than ever. On Tuesday, eleventh of December, the King's Trial has emerged, verydecidedly: into the streets of Paris; in the shape of that greenCarriage of Mayor Chambon, within which sits the King himself, withattendants, on his way to the Convention Hall! Attended, in that greenCarriage, by Mayors Chambon, Procureurs Chaumette; and outside of it byCommandants Santerre, with cannon, cavalry and double row of infantry;all Sections under arms, strong Patrols scouring all streets; so fareshe, slowly through the dull drizzling weather: and about two o'clockwe behold him, 'in walnut-coloured great-coat, redingote noisette, 'descending through the Place Vendome, towards that Salle de Manege; tobe indicted, and judicially interrogated. The mysterious Temple Circuithas given up its secret; which now, in this walnut-coloured coat, menbehold with eyes. The same bodily Louis who was once Louis theDesired, fares there: hapless King, he is getting now towards port; hisdeplorable farings and voyagings draw to a close. What duty remains tohim henceforth, that of placidly enduring, he is fit to do. The singular Procession fares on; in silence, says Prudhomme, or amidgrowlings of the Marseillese Hymn; in silence, ushers itself into theHall of the Convention, Santerre holding Louis's arm with his hand. Louis looks round him, with composed air, to see what kind of Conventionand Parliament it is. Much changed indeed:--since February gone twoyears, when our Constituent, then busy, spread fleur-de-lys velvet forus; and we came over to say a kind word here, and they all started upswearing Fidelity; and all France started up swearing, and made ita Feast of Pikes; which has ended in this! Barrere, who once'wept' looking up from his Editor's-Desk, looks down now from hisPresident's-Chair, with a list of Fifty-seven Questions; and says, dry-eyed: "Louis, you may sit down. " Louis sits down: it is the veryseat, they say, same timber and stuffing, from which he accepted theConstitution, amid dancing and illumination, autumn gone a year. So muchwoodwork remains identical; so much else is not identical. Louis sitsand listens, with a composed look and mind. Of the Fifty-seven Questions we shall not give so much as one. Theyare questions captiously embracing all the main Documents seized on theTenth of August, or found lately in the Iron Press; embracing all themain incidents of the Revolution History; and they ask, in substance, this: Louis, who wert King, art thou not guilty to a certain extent, by act and written document, of trying to continue King? Neither in theAnswers is there much notable. Mere quiet negations, for most part; anaccused man standing on the simple basis of No: I do not recognise thatdocument; I did not do that act; or did it according to the law thatthen was. Whereupon the Fifty-seven Questions, and Documents to thenumber of a Hundred and Sixty-two, being exhausted in this manner, Barrere finishes, after some three hours, with his: "Louis, I invite youto withdraw. " Louis withdraws, under Municipal escort, into a neighbouringCommittee-room; having first, in leaving the bar, demanded to have LegalCounsel. He declines refreshment, in this Committee-room, then, seeingChaumette busy with a small loaf which a grenadier had divided withhim, says, he will take a bit of bread. It is five o'clock; and hehad breakfasted but slightly in a morning of such drumming and alarm. Chaumette breaks his half-loaf: the King eats of the crust; mountsthe green Carriage, eating; asks now what he shall do with the crumb?Chaumette's clerk takes it from him; flings it out into the street. Louis says, It is pity to fling out bread, in a time of dearth. "Mygrandmother, " remarks Chaumette, "used to say to me, Little boy, neverwaste a crumb of bread, you cannot make one. " "Monsieur Chaumette, "answers Louis, "your grandmother seems to have been a sensible woman. "(Prudhomme's Newspaper in Hist. Parl. Xxi. 314. ) Poor innocent mortal:so quietly he waits the drawing of the lot;--fit to do this at leastwell; Passivity alone, without Activity, sufficing for it! He talksonce of travelling over France by and by, to have a geographical andtopographical view of it; being from of old fond of geography. --TheTemple Circuit again receives him, closes on him; gazing Paris mayretire to its hearths and coffee-houses, to its clubs and theatres: thedamp Darkness has sunk, and with it the drumming and patrolling of thisstrange Day. Louis is now separated from his Queen and Family; given up to his simplereflections and resources. Dull lie these stone walls round him; of hisloved ones none with him. In this state of 'uncertainty, ' providing forthe worst, he writes his Will: a Paper which can still be read; full ofplacidity, simplicity, pious sweetness. The Convention, after debate, has granted him Legal Counsel, of his own choosing. Advocate Targetfeels himself 'too old, ' being turned of fifty-four; and declines. Hehad gained great honour once, defending Rohan the Necklace-Cardinal; butwill gain none here. Advocate Tronchet, some ten years older, does notdecline. Nay behold, good old Malesherbes steps forward voluntarily;to the last of his fields, the good old hero! He is grey with seventyyears: he says, 'I was twice called to the Council of him who was myMaster, when all the world coveted that honour; and I owe him the sameservice now, when it has become one which many reckon dangerous. ' Thesetwo, with a younger Deseze, whom they will select for pleading, are busyover that Fifty-and-sevenfold Indictment, over the Hundred and Sixty-twoDocuments; Louis aiding them as he can. A great Thing is now therefore in open progress; all men, in all lands, watching it. By what Forms and Methods shall the Convention acquititself, in such manner that there rest not on it even the suspicion ofblame? Difficult that will be! The Convention, really much at a loss, discusses and deliberates. All day from morning to night, day after day, the Tribune drones with oratory on this matter; one must stretch the oldFormula to cover the new Thing. The Patriots of the Mountain, whettedever keener, clamour for despatch above all; the only good Form willbe a swift one. Nevertheless the Convention deliberates; the Tribunedrones, --drowned indeed in tenor, and even in treble, from time to time;the whole Hall shrilling up round it into pretty frequent wrath andprovocation. It has droned and shrilled wellnigh a fortnight, beforewe can decide, this shrillness getting ever shriller, That on Wednesday26th of December, Louis shall appear, and plead. His Advocates complainthat it is fatally soon; which they well might as Advocates: but withoutremedy; to Patriotism it seems endlessly late. On Wednesday, therefore, at the cold dark hour of eight in the morning, all Senators are at their post. Indeed they warm the cold hour, as wefind, by a violent effervescence, such as is too common now; some Louvetor Buzot attacking some Tallien, Chabot; and so the whole Mountaineffervescing against the whole Gironde. Scarcely is this done, at nine, when Louis and his three Advocates, escorted by the clang of arms andSanterre's National force, enter the Hall. Deseze unfolds his papers; honourably fulfilling his perilous office, pleads for the space of three hours. An honourable Pleading, 'composedalmost overnight;' courageous yet discreet; not without ingenuity, and soft pathetic eloquence: Louis fell on his neck, when they hadwithdrawn, and said with tears, Mon pauvre Deseze. Louis himself, beforewithdrawing, had added a few words, "perhaps the last he would utter tothem:" how it pained his heart, above all things, to be held guilty ofthat bloodshed on the Tenth of August; or of ever shedding or wishing toshed French blood. So saying, he withdrew from that Hall;--havingindeed finished his work there. Many are the strange errands he has hadthither; but this strange one is the last. And now, why will the Convention loiter? Here is the Indictment andEvidence; here is the Pleading: does not the rest follow of itself? TheMountain, and Patriotism in general, clamours still louder for despatch;for Permanent-session, till the task be done. Nevertheless a doubting, apprehensive Convention decides that it will still deliberate first;that all Members, who desire it, shall have leave to speak. --To yourdesks, therefore, ye eloquent Members! Down with your thoughts, yourechoes and hearsays of thoughts: now is the time to shew oneself;France and the Universe listens! Members are not wanting: Orationspoken Pamphlet follows spoken Pamphlet, with what eloquence it can:President's List swells ever higher with names claiming to speak; fromday to day, all days and all hours, the constant Tribune drones;--shrillGalleries supplying, very variably, the tenor and treble. It were a dulltune otherwise. The Patriots, in Mountain and Galleries, or taking counsel nightly inSection-house, in Mother Society, amid their shrill Tricoteuses, haveto watch lynx-eyed; to give voice when needful; occasionally very loud. Deputy Thuriot, he who was Advocate Thuriot, who was Elector Thuriot, and from the top of the Bastille, saw Saint-Antoine rising like theocean; this Thuriot can stretch a Formula as heartily as most men. CruelBillaud is not silent, if you incite him. Nor is cruel Jean-Bon silent;a kind of Jesuit he too;--write him not, as the Dictionaries too oftendo, Jambon, which signifies mere Ham. But, on the whole, let no man conceive it possible that Louis is notguilty. The only question for a reasonable man is, or was: Can theConvention judge Louis? Or must it be the whole People: in PrimaryAssembly, and with delay? Always delay, ye Girondins, false hommesd'etat! so bellows Patriotism, its patience almost failing. --But indeed, if we consider it, what shall these poor Girondins do? Speak theirconvictions that Louis is a Prisoner of War; and cannot be put to deathwithout injustice, solecism, peril? Speak such conviction; and loseutterly your footing with the decided Patriot? Nay properly it isnot even a conviction, but a conjecture and dim puzzle. How many poorGirondins are sure of but one thing: That a man and Girondin ought tohave footing somewhere, and to stand firmly on it; keeping well with theRespectable Classes! This is what conviction and assurance of faiththey have. They must wriggle painfully between their dilemma-horns. (SeeExtracts from their Newspapers, in Hist. Parl. Xxi. 1-38, &c. ) Nor is France idle, nor Europe. It is a Heart this Convention, as wesaid, which sends out influences, and receives them. A King's Execution, call it Martyrdom, call it Punishment, were an influence! Two notableinfluences this Convention has already sent forth, over all Nations;much to its own detriment. On the 19th of November, it emitted a Decree, and has since confirmed and unfolded the details of it. That any Nationwhich might see good to shake off the fetters of Despotism was thereby, so to speak, the Sister of France, and should have help and countenance. A Decree much noised of by Diplomatists, Editors, International Lawyers;such a Decree as no living Fetter of Despotism, nor Person in Authorityanywhere, can approve of! It was Deputy Chambon the Girondin whopropounded this Decree;--at bottom perhaps as a flourish of rhetoric. The second influence we speak of had a still poorer origin: in therestless loud-rattling slightly-furnished head of one Jacob Dupont fromthe Loire country. The Convention is speculating on a plan of NationalEducation: Deputy Dupont in his speech says, "I am free to avow, M. LePresident, that I for my part am an Atheist, " (Moniteur, Seance du 14Decembre 1792. )--thinking the world might like to know that. The Frenchworld received it without commentary; or with no audible commentary, so loud was France otherwise. The Foreign world received it withconfutation, with horror and astonishment; (Mrs. Hannah More, Letter toJacob Dupont (London, 1793); &c. &c. ) a most miserable influence this!And now if to these two were added a third influence, and sent pulsingabroad over all the Earth: that of Regicide? Foreign Courts interfere in this Trial of Louis; Spain, England: not tobe listened to; though they come, as it were, at least Spain comes, with the olive-branch in one hand, and the sword without scabbard in theother. But at home too, from out of this circumambient Paris and France, what influences come thick-pulsing! Petitions flow in; pleading forequal justice, in a reign of so-called Equality. The living Patriotpleads;--O ye National Deputies, do not the dead Patriots plead? TheTwelve Hundred that lie in cold obstruction, do not they plead; andpetition, in Death's dumb-show, from their narrow house there, moreeloquently than speech? Crippled Patriots hop on crutches round theSalle de Manege, demanding justice. The Wounded of the Tenth of August, the Widows and Orphans of the Killed petition in a body; and hop anddefile, eloquently mute, through the Hall: one wounded Patriot, unableto hop, is borne on his bed thither, and passes shoulder-high, in thehorizontal posture. (Hist. Parl. Xxii. 131; Moore, &c. ) The ConventionTribune, which has paused at such sight, commences again, --droningmere Juristic Oratory. But out of doors Paris is piping ever higher. Bull-voiced St. Huruge is heard; and the hysteric eloquence of MotherDuchesse: 'Varlet, Apostle of Liberty, ' with pike and red cap, flieshastily, carrying his oratorical folding-stool. Justice on the Traitor!cries all the Patriot world. Consider also this other cry, heard loudon the streets: "Give us Bread, or else kill us!" Bread and Equality;Justice on the Traitor, that we may have Bread! The Limited or undecided Patriot is set against the Decided. MayorChambon heard of dreadful rioting at the Theatre de la Nation: it hadcome to rioting, and even to fist-work, between the Decided and theUndecided, touching a new Drama called Ami des Lois (Friend of theLaws). One of the poorest Dramas ever written; but which had didacticapplications in it; wherefore powdered wigs of Friends of Order andblack hair of Jacobin heads are flying there; and Mayor Chambon hastenswith Santerre, in hopes to quell it. Far from quelling it, our poorMayor gets so 'squeezed, ' says the Report, and likewise so blamedand bullied, say we, --that he, with regret, quits the brief Mayoraltyaltogether, 'his lungs being affected. ' This miserable Amis des Lois isdebated of in the Convention itself; so violent, mutually-enraged, arethe Limited Patriots and the Unlimited. (Hist. Parl. Xxiii. 31, 48, &c. ) Between which two classes, are not Aristocrats enough, andCrypto-Aristocrats, busy? Spies running over from London with importantPackets; spies pretending to run! One of these latter, Viard was thename of him, pretended to accuse Roland, and even the Wife of Roland; tothe joy of Chabot and the Mountain. But the Wife of Roland came, beingsummoned, on the instant, to the Convention Hall; came, in her highclearness; and, with few clear words, dissipated this Viard intodespicability and air; all Friends of Order applauding. (Moniteur, Seance du 7 Decembre 1792. ) So, with Theatre-riots, and 'Bread, or elsekill us;' with Rage, Hunger, preternatural Suspicion, does this wildParis pipe. Roland grows ever more querulous, in his Messages andLetters; rising almost to the hysterical pitch. Marat, whom no poweron Earth can prevent seeing into traitors and Rolands, takes to bedfor three days; almost dead, the invaluable People's-Friend, withheartbreak, with fever and headache: 'O, Peuple babillard, si tu savaisagir, People of Babblers, if thou couldst but act!' To crown all, victorious Dumouriez, in these New-year's days, is arrivedin Paris;--one fears, for no good. He pretends to be complaining ofMinister Pache, and Hassenfratz dilapidations; to be concerting measuresfor the spring campaign: one finds him much in the company of theGirondins. Plotting with them against Jacobinism, against Equality, and the Punishment of Louis! We have Letters of his to the Conventionitself. Will he act the old Lafayette part, this new victorious General?Let him withdraw again; not undenounced. (Dumouriez, Memoires, iii. C. 4. ) And still, in the Convention Tribune, it drones continually, mereJuristic Eloquence, and Hypothesis without Action; and there are stillfifties on the President's List. Nay these Gironde Presidents give theirown party preference: we suspect they play foul with the List; men ofthe Mountain cannot be heard. And still it drones, all through Decemberinto January and a New year; and there is no end! Paris pipes round it;multitudinous; ever higher, to the note of the whirlwind. Pariswill 'bring cannon from Saint-Denis;' there is talk of 'shutting theBarriers, '--to Roland's horror. Whereupon, behold, the Convention Tribune suddenly ceases droning: wecut short, be on the List who likes; and make end. On Tuesday next, theFifteenth of January 1793, it shall go to the Vote, name by name; and, one way or other, this great game play itself out! Chapter 3. 2. VII. The Three Votings. Is Louis Capet guilty of conspiring against Liberty? Shall our Sentencebe itself final, or need ratifying by Appeal to the People? If guilty, what Punishment? This is the form agreed to, after uproar and 'severalhours of tumultuous indecision:' these are the Three successiveQuestions, whereon the Convention shall now pronounce. Paris floodsround their Hall; multitudinous, many sounding. Europe and all Nationslisten for their answer. Deputy after Deputy shall answer to his name:Guilty or Not guilty? As to the Guilt, there is, as above hinted, no doubt in the mind ofPatriot man. Overwhelming majority pronounces Guilt; the unanimousConvention votes for Guilt, only some feeble twenty-eight voting notInnocence, but refusing to vote at all. Neither does the Second Questionprove doubtful, whatever the Girondins might calculate. Would not Appealto the People be another name for civil war? Majority of two to oneanswers that there shall be no Appeal: this also is settled. LoudPatriotism, now at ten o'clock, may hush itself for the night; andretire to its bed not without hope. Tuesday has gone well. On the morrowcomes, What Punishment? On the morrow is the tug of war. Consider therefore if, on this Wednesday morning, there is an affluenceof Patriotism; if Paris stands a-tiptoe, and all Deputies are at theirpost! Seven Hundred and Forty-nine honourable Deputies; only some twentyabsent on mission, Duchatel and some seven others absent by sickness. Meanwhile expectant Patriotism and Paris standing a-tiptoe, have need ofpatience. For this Wednesday again passes in debate and effervescence;Girondins proposing that a 'majority of three-fourths' shall berequired; Patriots fiercely resisting them. Danton, who has just gotback from mission in the Netherlands, does obtain 'order of the day'on this Girondin proposal; nay he obtains further that we decide sansdesemparer, in Permanent-session, till we have done. And so, finally, at eight in the evening this Third stupendous Voting, by roll-call or appel nominal, does begin. What Punishment? Girondinsundecided, Patriots decided, men afraid of Royalty, men afraid ofAnarchy, must answer here and now. Infinite Patriotism, dusky in thelamp-light, floods all corridors, crowds all galleries, sternly waitingto hear. Shrill-sounding Ushers summon you by Name and Department; youmust rise to the Tribune and say. Eye-witnesses have represented this scene of the Third Voting, and ofthe votings that grew out of it; a scene protracted, like to beendless, lasting, with few brief intervals, from Wednesday till Sundaymorning, --as one of the strangest seen in the Revolution. Long nightwears itself into day, morning's paleness is spread over all faces; andagain the wintry shadows sink, and the dim lamps are lit: but throughday and night and the vicissitude of hours, Member after Member ismounting continually those Tribune-steps; pausing aloft there, in theclearer upper light, to speak his Fate-word; then diving down intothe dusk and throng again. Like Phantoms in the hour of midnight; mostspectral, pandemonial! Never did President Vergniaud, or any terrestrialPresident, superintend the like. A King's Life, and so much else thatdepends thereon, hangs trembling in the balance. Man after manmounts; the buzz hushes itself till he have spoken: Death; Banishment:Imprisonment till the Peace. Many say, Death; with what cautiouswell-studied phrases and paragraphs they could devise, of explanation, of enforcement, of faint recommendation to mercy. Many too say, Banishment; something short of Death. The balance trembles, none can yetguess whitherward. Whereat anxious Patriotism bellows; irrepressible byUshers. The poor Girondins, many of them, under such fierce bellowing ofPatriotism, say Death; justifying, motivant, that most miserable wordof theirs by some brief casuistry and jesuitry. Vergniaud himself says, Death; justifying by jesuitry. Rich Lepelletier Saint-Fargeau had beenof the Noblesse, and then of the Patriot Left Side, in the Constituent;and had argued and reported, there and elsewhere, not a little, againstCapital Punishment: nevertheless he now says, Death; a word which maycost him dear. Manuel did surely rank with the Decided in August last;but he has been sinking and backsliding ever since September, and thescenes of September. In this Convention, above all, no word he couldspeak would find favour; he says now, Banishment; and in mute wrathquits the place for ever, --much hustled in the corridors. PhilippeEgalite votes in his soul and conscience, Death, at the sound of which, and of whom, even Patriotism shakes its head; and there runs a groanand shudder through this Hall of Doom. Robespierre's vote cannot bedoubtful; his speech is long. Men see the figure of shrill Sieyesascend; hardly pausing, passing merely, this figure says, "La Mort sansphrase, Death without phrases;" and fares onward and downward. Mostspectral, pandemonial! And yet if the Reader fancy it of a funereal, sorrowful or even gravecharacter, he is far mistaken. 'The Ushers in the Mountain quarter, 'says Mercier, 'had become as Box-openers at the Opera;' opening andshutting of Galleries for privileged persons, for 'd'Orleans Egalite'smistresses, ' or other high-dizened women of condition, rustling withlaces and tricolor. Gallant Deputies pass and repass thitherward, treating them with ices, refreshments and small-talk; the high-dizenedheads beck responsive; some have their card and pin, pricking down theAyes and Noes, as at a game of Rouge-et-Noir. Further aloft reigns MereDuchesse with her unrouged Amazons; she cannot be prevented makinglong Hahas, when the vote is not La Mort. In these Galleries there isrefection, drinking of wine and brandy 'as in open tavern, en pleinetabagie. ' Betting goes on in all coffeehouses of the neighbourhood. Butwithin doors, fatigue, impatience, uttermost weariness sits now onall visages; lighted up only from time to time, by turns of the game. Members have fallen asleep; Ushers come and awaken them to vote: otherMembers calculate whether they shall not have time to run and dine. Figures rise, like phantoms, pale in the dusky lamp-light; utter fromthis Tribune, only one word: Death. 'Tout est optique, ' says Mercier, 'the world is all an optical shadow. ' (Mercier, Nouveau Paris, vi. 156-59; Montgaillard, iii. 348-87; Moore, &c. ) Deep in the Thursdaynight, when the Voting is done, and Secretaries are summing it up, sickDuchatel, more spectral than another, comes borne on a chair, wrapt inblankets, 'in nightgown and nightcap, ' to vote for Mercy: one vote it isthought may turn the scale. Ah no! In profoundest silence, President Vergniaud, with a voice full ofsorrow, has to say: "I declare, in the name of the Convention, that thePunishment it pronounces on Louis Capet is that of Death. " Death by asmall majority of Fifty-three. Nay, if we deduct from the one side, andadd to the other, a certain Twenty-six, who said Death but coupled somefaintest ineffectual surmise of mercy with it, the majority will be butOne. Death is the sentence: but its execution? It is not executed yet!Scarcely is the vote declared when Louis's Three Advocates enter; withProtest in his name, with demand for Delay, for Appeal to the People. For this do Deseze and Tronchet plead, with brief eloquence: brave oldMalesherbes pleads for it with eloquent want of eloquence, in brokensentences, in embarrassment and sobs; that brave time-honoured face, with its grey strength, its broad sagacity and honesty, is mastered withemotion, melts into dumb tears. (Moniteur in Hist. Parl. Xxiii. 210. See Boissy d'Anglas, Vie de Malesherbes, ii. 139. )--They reject theAppeal to the People; that having been already settled. But as to theDelay, what they call Sursis, it shall be considered; shall be voted forto-morrow: at present we adjourn. Whereupon Patriotism 'hisses' from theMountain: but a 'tyrannical majority' has so decided, and adjourns. There is still this fourth Vote then, growls indignant Patriotism:--thisvote, and who knows what other votes, and adjournments of voting; andthe whole matter still hovering hypothetical! And at every new votethose Jesuit Girondins, even they who voted for Death, would so fainfind a loophole! Patriotism must watch and rage. Tyrannical adjournmentsthere have been; one, and now another at midnight on plea offatigue, --all Friday wasted in hesitation and higgling; in re-countingof the votes, which are found correct as they stood! Patriotism baysfiercer than ever; Patriotism, by long-watching, has become red-eyed, almost rabid. "Delay: yes or no?" men do vote it finally, all Saturday, all day andnight. Men's nerves are worn out, men's hearts are desperate; now itshall end. Vergniaud, spite of the baying, ventures to say Yes, Delay;though he had voted Death. Philippe Egalite says, in his soul andconscience, No. The next Member mounting: "Since Philippe says No, Ifor my part say Yes, Moi je dis Oui. " The balance still trembles. Tillfinally, at three o'clock on Sunday morning, we have: No Delay, by amajority of Seventy; Death within four-and-twenty hours! Garat Minister of Justice has to go to the Temple, with this sternmessage: he ejaculates repeatedly, "Quelle commission affreuse, What afrightful function!" (Biographie des Ministres, p. 157. ) Louis begs fora Confessor; for yet three days of life, to prepare himself to die. TheConfessor is granted; the three days and all respite are refused. There is no deliverance, then? Thick stone walls answer, None--Has KingLouis no friends? Men of action, of courage grown desperate, in this hisextreme need? King Louis's friends are feeble and far. Not even a voicein the coffeehouses rises for him. At Meot the Restaurateur's no CaptainDampmartin now dines; or sees death-doing whiskerandoes on furloughexhibit daggers of improved structure! Meot's gallant Royalists onfurlough are far across the Marches; they are wandering distracted overthe world: or their bones lie whitening Argonne Wood. Only some weakPriests 'leave Pamphlets on all the bournestones, ' this night, callingfor a rescue; calling for the pious women to rise; or are takendistributing Pamphlets, and sent to prison. (See Prudhomme's Newspaper, Revolutions de Paris in Hist. Parl. Xxiii. 318. ) Nay there is one death-doer, of the ancient Meot sort, who, with effort, has done even less and worse: slain a Deputy, and set all the Patriotismof Paris on edge! It was five on Saturday evening when Lepelletier St. Fargeau, having given his vote, No Delay, ran over to Fevrier's in thePalais Royal to snatch a morsel of dinner. He had dined, and was paying. A thickset man 'with black hair and blue beard, ' in a loose kind offrock, stept up to him; it was, as Fevrier and the bystanders bethoughtthem, one Paris of the old King's-Guard. "Are you Lepelletier?"asks he. --"Yes. "--"You voted in the King's Business?"--"I votedDeath. "--"Scelerat, take that!" cries Paris, flashing out a sabre fromunder his frock, and plunging it deep in Lepelletier's side. Fevrierclutches him; but he breaks off; is gone. The voter Lepelletier lies dead; he has expired in great pain, at onein the morning;--two hours before that Vote of no Delay was fully summedup! Guardsman Paris is flying over France; cannot be taken; will befound some months after, self-shot in a remote inn. (Hist. Parl. Xxiii. 275, 318; Felix Lepelletier, Vie de Michel Lepelletier son Frere, p. 61. &c. Felix, with due love of the miraculous, will have it thatthe Suicide in the inn was not Paris, but some double-ganger ofhis. )--Robespierre sees reason to think that Prince d'Artois himself isprivately in Town; that the Convention will be butchered in the lump. Patriotism sounds mere wail and vengeance: Santerre doubles and treblesall his patrols. Pity is lost in rage and fear; the Convention hasrefused the three days of life and all respite. Chapter 3. 2. VIII. Place de la Revolution. To this conclusion, then, hast thou come, O hapless, Louis! The Son ofSixty Kings is to die on the Scaffold by form of law. Under Sixty Kingsthis same form of Law, form of Society, has been fashioning itselftogether, these thousand years; and has become, one way and other, amost strange Machine. Surely, if needful, it is also frightful thisMachine; dead, blind; not what it should be; which, with swift stroke, or by cold slow torture, has wasted the lives and souls of innumerablemen. And behold now a King himself, or say rather Kinghood in hisperson, is to expire here in cruel tortures;--like a Phalaris shut inthe belly of his own red-heated Brazen Bull! It is ever so; and thoushouldst know it, O haughty tyrannous man: injustice breeds injustice;curses and falsehoods do verily 'return always home, ' wide as theymay wander. Innocent Louis bears the sins of many generations: he tooexperiences that man's tribunal is not in this Earth; that if he had noHigher one, it were not well with him. A King dying by such violence appeals impressively to the imagination;as the like must do, and ought to do. And yet at bottom it is not theKing dying, but the Man! Kingship is a coat; the grand loss is of theskin. The man from whom you take his Life, to him can the whole combinedworld do more? Lally went on his hurdle, his mouth filled with a gag. Miserablest mortals, doomed for picking pockets, have a whole five-actTragedy in them, in that dumb pain, as they go to the gallows, unregarded; they consume the cup of trembling down to the lees. ForKings and for Beggars, for the justly doomed and the unjustly, it isa hard thing to die. Pity them all: thy utmost pity with all aids andappliances and throne-and-scaffold contrasts, how far short is it of thething pitied! A Confessor has come; Abbe Edgeworth, of Irish extraction, whom the Kingknew by good report, has come promptly on this solemn mission. Leavethe Earth alone, then, thou hapless King; it with its malice will goits way, thou also canst go thine. A hard scene yet remains: the partingwith our loved ones. Kind hearts, environed in the same grim peril withus; to be left here! Let the Reader look with the eyes of Valet Clery, through these glass-doors, where also the Municipality watches; and seethe cruellest of scenes: 'At half-past eight, the door of the ante-room opened: the Queenappeared first, leading her Son by the hand; then Madame Royale andMadame Elizabeth: they all flung themselves into the arms of the King. Silence reigned for some minutes; interrupted only by sobs. The Queenmade a movement to lead his Majesty towards the inner room, where M. Edgeworth was waiting unknown to them: "No, " said the King, "let us gointo the dining-room, it is there only that I can see you. " They enteredthere; I shut the door of it, which was of glass. The King sat down, the Queen on his left hand, Madame Elizabeth on his right, Madame Royalealmost in front; the young Prince remained standing between his Father'slegs. They all leaned towards him, and often held him embraced. Thisscene of woe lasted an hour and three-quarters; during which we couldhear nothing; we could see only that always when the King spoke, thesobbings of the Princesses redoubled, continued for some minutes; andthat then the King began again to speak. ' (Clery's Narrative (London, 1798), cited in Weber, iii. 312. )--And so our meetings and our partingsdo now end! The sorrows we gave each other; the poor joys we faithfullyshared, and all our lovings and our sufferings, and confused toilingsunder the earthly Sun, are over. Thou good soul, I shall never, neverthrough all ages of Time, see thee any more!--NEVER! O Reader, knowestthou that hard word? For nearly two hours this agony lasts; then they tear themselvesasunder. "Promise that you will see us on the morrow. " He promises:--Ahyes, yes; yet once; and go now, ye loved ones; cry to God for yourselvesand me!--It was a hard scene, but it is over. He will not see them onthe morrow. The Queen in passing through the ante-room glanced at theCerberus Municipals; and with woman's vehemence, said through her tears, "Vous etes tous des scelerats. " King Louis slept sound, till five in the morning, when Clery, as hehad been ordered, awoke him. Clery dressed his hair. While this wentforward, Louis took a ring from his watch, and kept trying it on hisfinger; it was his wedding-ring, which he is now to return to theQueen as a mute farewell. At half-past six, he took the Sacrament; andcontinued in devotion, and conference with Abbe Edgeworth. He will notsee his Family: it were too hard to bear. At eight, the Municipals enter: the King gives them his Will andmessages and effects; which they, at first, brutally refuse totake charge of: he gives them a roll of gold pieces, a hundred andtwenty-five louis; these are to be returned to Malesherbes, who hadlent them. At nine, Santerre says the hour is come. The King begs yetto retire for three minutes. At the end of three minutes, Santerre againsays the hour is come. 'Stamping on the ground with his right foot, Louis answers: "Partons, let us go. "'--How the rolling of those drumscomes in, through the Temple bastions and bulwarks, on the heart of aqueenly wife; soon to be a widow! He is gone, then, and has not seenus? A Queen weeps bitterly; a King's Sister and Children. Over all theseFour does Death also hover: all shall perish miserably save one; she, asDuchesse d'Angouleme, will live, --not happily. At the Temple Gate were some faint cries, perhaps from voices of pitifulwomen: "Grace! Grace!" Through the rest of the streets there is silenceas of the grave. No man not armed is allowed to be there: the armed, did any even pity, dare not express it, each man overawed by all hisneighbours. All windows are down, none seen looking through them. Allshops are shut. No wheel-carriage rolls this morning, in these streetsbut one only. Eighty thousand armed men stand ranked, like armed statuesof men; cannons bristle, cannoneers with match burning, but no word ormovement: it is as a city enchanted into silence and stone; one carriagewith its escort, slowly rumbling, is the only sound. Louis reads, in hisBook of Devotion, the Prayers of the Dying: clatter of this death-marchfalls sharp on the ear, in the great silence; but the thought would fainstruggle heavenward, and forget the Earth. As the clocks strike ten, behold the Place de la Revolution, once Placede Louis Quinze: the Guillotine, mounted near the old Pedestal whereonce stood the Statue of that Louis! Far round, all bristles withcannons and armed men: spectators crowding in the rear; d'OrleansEgalite there in cabriolet. Swift messengers, hoquetons, speed tothe Townhall, every three minutes: near by is the Conventionsitting, --vengeful for Lepelletier. Heedless of all, Louis reads hisPrayers of the Dying; not till five minutes yet has he finished; thenthe Carriage opens. What temper he is in? Ten different witnesseswill give ten different accounts of it. He is in the collision of alltempers; arrived now at the black Mahlstrom and descent of Death: insorrow, in indignation, in resignation struggling to be resigned. "Takecare of M. Edgeworth, " he straitly charges the Lieutenant who is sittingwith them: then they two descend. The drums are beating: "Taisez-vous, Silence!" he cries 'in a terriblevoice, d'une voix terrible. ' He mounts the scaffold, not without delay;he is in puce coat, breeches of grey, white stockings. He strips offthe coat; stands disclosed in a sleeve-waistcoat of white flannel. TheExecutioners approach to bind him: he spurns, resists; Abbe Edgeworthhas to remind him how the Saviour, in whom men trust, submitted to bebound. His hands are tied, his head bare; the fatal moment is come. Headvances to the edge of the Scaffold, 'his face very red, ' and says:"Frenchmen, I die innocent: it is from the Scaffold and near appearingbefore God that I tell you so. I pardon my enemies; I desire thatFrance--" A General on horseback, Santerre or another, prances out withuplifted hand: "Tambours!" The drums drown the voice. "Executioners doyour duty!" The Executioners, desperate lest themselves be murdered (forSanterre and his Armed Ranks will strike, if they do not), seize thehapless Louis: six of them desperate, him singly desperate, strugglingthere; and bind him to their plank. Abbe Edgeworth, stooping, bespeakshim: "Son of Saint Louis, ascend to Heaven. " The Axe clanks down; aKing's Life is shorn away. It is Monday the 21st of January 1793. He wasaged Thirty-eight years four months and twenty-eight days. (Newspapers, Municipal Records, &c. &c. In Hist. Parl. Xxiii. 298-349) Deux Amis(ix. 369-373), Mercier (Nouveau Paris, iii. 3-8. ) Executioner Samson shews the Head: fierce shout of Vive la Republiquerises, and swells; caps raised on bayonets, hats waving: students ofthe College of Four Nations take it up, on the far Quais; fling it overParis. Orleans drives off in his cabriolet; the Townhall Councillorsrub their hands, saying, "It is done, It is done. " There is dipping ofhandkerchiefs, of pike-points in the blood. Headsman Samson, though heafterwards denied it, (His Letter in the Newspapers, Hist. Parl. Ubisupra. ) sells locks of the hair: fractions of the puce coat are longafter worn in rings. (Forster's Briefwechsel, i. 473. )--And so, in somehalf-hour it is done; and the multitude has all departed. Pastrycooks, coffee-sellers, milkmen sing out their trivial quotidian cries: theworld wags on, as if this were a common day. In the coffeehouses thatevening, says Prudhomme, Patriot shook hands with Patriot in a morecordial manner than usual. Not till some days after, according toMercier, did public men see what a grave thing it was. A grave thing it indisputably is; and will have consequences. On themorrow morning, Roland, so long steeped to the lips in disgust andchagrin, sends in his demission. His accounts lie all ready, correctin black-on-white to the uttermost farthing: these he wants but to haveaudited, that he might retire to remote obscurity to the country andhis books. They will never be audited those accounts; he will never getretired thither. It was on Tuesday that Roland demitted. On Thursday comes LepelletierSt. Fargeau's Funeral, and passage to the Pantheon of Great Men. Notableas the wild pageant of a winter day. The Body is borne aloft, half-bare;the winding sheet disclosing the death-wound: sabre and bloodyclothes parade themselves; a 'lugubrious music' wailing harsh naeniae. Oak-crowns shower down from windows; President Vergniaud walks there, with Convention, with Jacobin Society, and all Patriots of every colour, all mourning brotherlike. Notable also for another thing, this Burial of Lepelletier: it was thelast act these men ever did with concert! All Parties and figures ofOpinion, that agitate this distracted France and its Convention, nowstand, as it were, face to face, and dagger to dagger; the King's Life, round which they all struck and battled, being hurled down. Dumouriez, conquering Holland, growls ominous discontent, at the head of Armies. Men say Dumouriez will have a King; that young d'Orleans Egalite shallbe his King. Deputy Fauchet, in the Journal des Amis, curses his day, more bitterly than Job did; invokes the poniards of Regicides, of 'ArrasVipers' or Robespierres, of Pluto Dantons, of horrid Butchers Legendreand Simulacra d'Herbois, to send him swiftly to another world thantheirs. (Hist. Parl. Ubi supra. ) This is Te-Deum Fauchet, of theBastille Victory, of the Cercle Social. Sharp was the death-hailrattling round one's Flag-of-truce, on that Bastille day: but it wassoft to such wreckage of high Hope as this; one's New Golden Era goingdown in leaden dross, and sulphurous black of the Everlasting Darkness! At home this Killing of a King has divided all friends; and abroadit has united all enemies. Fraternity of Peoples, RevolutionaryPropagandism; Atheism, Regicide; total destruction of social order inthis world! All Kings, and lovers of Kings, and haters of Anarchy, rank in coalition; as in a war for life. England signifies to CitizenChauvelin, the Ambassador or rather Ambassador's-Cloak, that he mustquit the country in eight days. Ambassador's-Cloak and Ambassador, Chauvelin and Talleyrand, depart accordingly. (Annual Register of1793, pp. 114-128. ) Talleyrand, implicated in that Iron Press of theTuileries, thinks it safest to make for America. England has cast out the Embassy: England declares war, --being shockedprincipally, it would seem, at the condition of the River Scheldt. Spain declares war; being shocked principally at some other thing;which doubtless the Manifesto indicates. (23d March, Annual Register, p. 161. ) Nay we find it was not England that declared war first, or Spainfirst; but that France herself declared war first on both of them; (1stFebruary; 7th March, Moniteur of these dates. )--a point of immenseParliamentary and Journalistic interest in those days, but which hasbecome of no interest whatever in these. They all declare war. The swordis drawn, the scabbard thrown away. It is even as Danton said, in one ofhis all-too gigantic figures: "The coalised Kings threaten us; we hurlat their feet, as gage of battle, the Head of a King. " BOOK 3. III. THE GIRONDINS Chapter 3. 3. I. Cause and Effect. This huge Insurrectionary Movement, which we liken to a breaking out ofTophet and the Abyss, has swept away Royalty, Aristocracy, and a King'slife. The question is, What will it next do; how will it henceforthshape itself? Settle down into a reign of Law and Liberty; accordingas the habits, persuasions and endeavours of the educated, monied, respectable class prescribe? That is to say: the volcanic lava-flood, bursting up in the manner described, will explode and flow according toGirondin Formula and pre-established rule of Philosophy? If so, for ourGirondin friends it will be well. Meanwhile were not the prophecy rather that as no external force, Royalor other, now remains which could control this Movement, the Movementwill follow a course of its own; probably a very original one? Further, that whatsoever man or men can best interpret the inward tendencies ithas, and give them voice and activity, will obtain the lead of it? Forthe rest, that as a thing without order, a thing proceeding from beyondand beneath the region of order, it must work and welter, not as aRegularity but as a Chaos; destructive and self-destructive; always tillsomething that has order arise, strong enough to bind it into subjectionagain? Which something, we may further conjecture, will not be aFormula, with philosophical propositions and forensic eloquence; but aReality, probably with a sword in its hand! As for the Girondin Formula, of a respectable Republic for the MiddleClasses, all manner of Aristocracies being now sufficiently demolished, there seems little reason to expect that the business will stop there. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, these are the words; enunciative andprophetic. Republic for the respectable washed Middle Classes, how canthat be the fulfilment thereof? Hunger and nakedness, and nightmareoppression lying heavy on Twenty-five million hearts; this, notthe wounded vanities or contradicted philosophies of philosophicalAdvocates, rich Shopkeepers, rural Noblesse, was the prime mover in theFrench Revolution; as the like will be in all such Revolutions, in allcountries. Feudal Fleur-de-lys had become an insupportably bad marchingbanner, and needed to be torn and trampled: but Moneybag of Mammon (forthat, in these times, is what the respectable Republic for the MiddleClasses will signify) is a still worse, while it lasts. Properly, indeed, it is the worst and basest of all banners, and symbols ofdominion among men; and indeed is possible only in a time of generalAtheism, and Unbelief in any thing save in brute Force and Sensualism;pride of birth, pride of office, any known kind of pride being a degreebetter than purse-pride. Freedom, Equality, Brotherhood: not in theMoneybag, but far elsewhere, will Sansculottism seek these things. We say therefore that an Insurrectionary France, loose of control fromwithout, destitute of supreme order from within, will form one of themost tumultuous Activities ever seen on this Earth; such as no GirondinFormula can regulate. An immeasurable force, made up of forces manifold, heterogeneous, compatible and incompatible. In plainer words, thisFrance must needs split into Parties; each of which seeking to makeitself good, contradiction, exasperation will arise; and Parties onParties find that they cannot work together, cannot exist together. As for the number of Parties, there will, strictly counting, be as manyParties as there are Opinions. According to which rule, in this NationalConvention itself, to say nothing of France generally, the numberof Parties ought to be Seven Hundred and Forty-Nine; for every unitentertains his opinion. But now as every unit has at once an individualnature, or necessity to follow his own road, and a gregarious natureor necessity to see himself travelling by the side of others, --whatcan there be but dissolutions, precipitations, endless turbulence ofattracting and repelling; till once the master-element get evolved, andthis wild alchemy arrange itself again? To the length of Seven Hundred and Forty-nine Parties, however, noNation was ever yet seen to go. Nor indeed much beyond the length of TwoParties; two at a time;--so invincible is man's tendency to unite, withall the invincible divisiveness he has! Two Parties, we say, are theusual number at one time: let these two fight it out, all minor shadesof party rallying under the shade likest them; when the one has foughtdown the other, then it, in its turn, may divide, self-destructive;and so the process continue, as far as needful. This is the way ofRevolutions, which spring up as the French one has done; when theso-called Bonds of Society snap asunder; and all Laws that are not Lawsof Nature become naught and Formulas merely. But quitting these somewhat abstract considerations, let History notethis concrete reality which the streets of Paris exhibit, on Monday the25th of February 1793. Long before daylight that morning, these streetsare noisy and angry. Petitioning enough there has been; a Conventionoften solicited. It was but yesterday there came a Deputation ofWasherwomen with Petition; complaining that not so much as soap could behad; to say nothing of bread, and condiments of bread. The cry of women, round the Salle de Manege, was heard plaintive: "Du pain et du savon, Bread and Soap. " (Moniteur &c. Hist. Parl. Xxiv. 332-348. ) And now from six o'clock, this Monday morning, one perceives the Baker'sQueues unusually expanded, angrily agitating themselves. Not the Bakeralone, but two Section Commissioners to help him, manage with difficultythe daily distribution of loaves. Soft-spoken assiduous, in the earlycandle-light, are Baker and Commissioners: and yet the pale chillFebruary sunrise discloses an unpromising scene. Indignant FemalePatriots, partly supplied with bread, rush now to the shops, declaringthat they will have groceries. Groceries enough: sugar-barrels rolledforth into the street, Patriot Citoyennes weighing it out at a justrate of eleven-pence a pound; likewise coffee-chests, soap-chests, nay cinnamon and cloves-chests, with aquavitae and other forms ofalcohol, --at a just rate, which some do not pay; the pale-faced Grocersilently wringing his hands! What help? The distributive Citoyennes areof violent speech and gesture, their long Eumenides' hair hanging out ofcurl; nay in their girdles pistols are seen sticking: some, it is evensaid, have beards, --male Patriots in petticoats and mob-cap. Thus, in the streets of Lombards, in the street of Five-Diamonds, street ofPullies, in most streets of Paris does it effervesce, the livelong day;no Municipality, no Mayor Pache, though he was War-Minister lately, sends military against it, or aught against it but persuasive-eloquence, till seven at night, or later. On Monday gone five weeks, which was the twenty-first of January, wesaw Paris, beheading its King, stand silent, like a petrified Cityof Enchantment: and now on this Monday it is so noisy, sellingsugar! Cities, especially Cities in Revolution, are subject to thesealternations; the secret courses of civic business and existenceeffervescing and efflorescing, in this manner, as a concrete Phenomenonto the eye. Of which Phenomenon, when secret existence becoming publiceffloresces on the street, the philosophical cause-and-effect is notso easy to find. What, for example, may be the accurate philosophicalmeaning, and meanings, of this sale of sugar? These things that havebecome visible in the street of Pullies and over Paris, whence are they, we say; and whither?-- That Pitt has a hand in it, the gold of Pitt: so much, to all reasonablePatriot men, may seem clear. But then, through what agents of Pitt?Varlet, Apostle of Liberty, was discerned again of late, with his pikeand his red nightcap. Deputy Marat published in his journal, this veryday, complaining of the bitter scarcity, and sufferings of the people, till he seemed to get wroth: 'If your Rights of Man were anything but apiece of written paper, the plunder of a few shops, and a forestalleror two hung up at the door-lintels, would put an end to such things. '(Hist. Parl. Xxiv. 353-356. ) Are not these, say the Girondins, pregnantindications? Pitt has bribed the Anarchists; Marat is the agent of Pitt:hence this sale of sugar. To the Mother Society, again, it is clear thatthe scarcity is factitious; is the work of Girondins, and such like; aset of men sold partly to Pitt; sold wholly to their own ambitions, andhard-hearted pedantries; who will not fix the grain-prices, but pratepedantically of free-trade; wishing to starve Paris into violence, andembroil it with the Departments: hence this sale of sugar. And, alas, if to these two notabilities, of a Phenomenon and suchTheories of a Phenomenon, we add this third notability, That the FrenchNation has believed, for several years now, in the possibility, naycertainty and near advent, of a universal Millennium, or reign ofFreedom, Equality, Fraternity, wherein man should be the brother of man, and sorrow and sin flee away? Not bread to eat, nor soap to wish with;and the reign of perfect Felicity ready to arrive, due always sincethe Bastille fell! How did our hearts burn within us, at that Feastof Pikes, when brother flung himself on brother's bosom; and in sunnyjubilee, Twenty-five millions burst forth into sound and cannon-smoke!Bright was our Hope then, as sunlight; red-angry is our Hope grown now, as consuming fire. But, O Heavens, what enchantment is it, or devilishlegerdemain, of such effect, that Perfect Felicity, always within arm'slength, could never be laid hold of, but only in her stead Controversyand Scarcity? This set of traitors after that set! Tremble, ye traitors;dread a People which calls itself patient, long-suffering; but whichcannot always submit to have its pocket picked, in this way, --of aMillennium! Yes, Reader, here is a miracle. Out of that putrescent rubbish ofScepticism, Sensualism, Sentimentalism, hollow Machiavelism, sucha Faith has verily risen; flaming in the heart of a People. A wholePeople, awakening as it were to consciousness in deep misery, believesthat it is within reach of a Fraternal Heaven-on-Earth. With longingarms, it struggles to embrace the Unspeakable; cannot embrace it, owingto certain causes. --Seldom do we find that a whole People can be saidto have any Faith at all; except in things which it can eat and handle. Whensoever it gets any Faith, its history becomes spirit-stirring, note-worthy. But since the time when steel Europe shook itselfsimultaneously, at the word of Hermit Peter, and rushed towards theSepulchre where God had lain, there was no universal impulse of Faiththat one could note. Since Protestantism went silent, no Luther's voice, no Zisca's drum any longer proclaiming that God's Truth was not theDevil's Lie; and the last of the Cameronians (Renwick was the name ofhim; honour to the name of the brave!) sank, shot, on the Castle Hillof Edinburgh, there was no partial impulse of Faith among Nations. Tillnow, behold, once more this French Nation believes! Herein, we say, in that astonishing Faith of theirs, lies the miracle. It is a Faithundoubtedly of the more prodigious sort, even among Faiths; and willembody itself in prodigies. It is the soul of that world-prodigy namedFrench Revolution; whereat the world still gazes and shudders. But, for the rest, let no man ask History to explain by cause-and-effecthow the business proceeded henceforth. This battle of Mountain andGironde, and what follows, is the battle of Fanaticisms and Miracles;unsuitable for cause-and-effect. The sound of it, to the mind, is as ahubbub of voices in distraction; little of articulate is to be gatheredby long listening and studying; only battle-tumult, shouts of triumph, shrieks of despair. The Mountain has left no Memoirs; the Girondinshave left Memoirs, which are too often little other than long-drawnInterjections, of Woe is me and Cursed be ye. So soon as History canphilosophically delineate the conflagration of a kindled Fireship, she may try this other task. Here lay the bitumen-stratum, there thebrimstone one; so ran the vein of gunpowder, of nitre, terebinth andfoul grease: this, were she inquisitive enough, History might partlyknow. But how they acted and reacted below decks, one fire-stratumplaying into the other, by its nature and the art of man, now when allhands ran raging, and the flames lashed high over shrouds and topmast:this let not History attempt. The Fireship is old France, the old French Form of Life; her creed aGeneration of men. Wild are their cries and their ragings there, likespirits tormented in that flame. But, on the whole, are they not gone, O Reader? Their Fireship and they, frightening the world, have sailedaway; its flames and its thunders quite away, into the Deep of Time. Onething therefore History will do: pity them all; for it went hard withthem all. Not even the seagreen Incorruptible but shall have somepity, some human love, though it takes an effort. And now, so much oncethoroughly attained, the rest will become easier. To the eye ofequal brotherly pity, innumerable perversions dissipate themselves;exaggerations and execrations fall off, of their own accord. Standingwistfully on the safe shore, we will look, and see, what is of interestto us, what is adapted to us. Chapter 3. 3. II. Culottic and Sansculottic. Gironde and Mountain are now in full quarrel; their mutual rage, saysToulongeon, is growing a 'pale' rage. Curious, lamentable: all these menhave the word Republic on their lips; in the heart of every one of themis a passionate wish for something which he calls Republic: yet seetheir death-quarrel! So, however, are men made. Creatures who livein confusion; who, once thrown together, can readily fall intothat confusion of confusions which quarrel is, simply because theirconfusions differ from one another; still more because they seem todiffer! Men's words are a poor exponent of their thought; nay theirthought itself is a poor exponent of the inward unnamed Mystery, wherefrom both thought and action have their birth. No man can explainhimself, can get himself explained; men see not one another butdistorted phantasms which they call one another; which they hate and goto battle with: for all battle is well said to be misunderstanding. But indeed that similitude of the Fireship; of our poor French brethren, so fiery themselves, working also in an element of fire, was notinsignificant. Consider it well, there is a shade of the truth init. For a man, once committed headlong to republican or any otherTranscendentalism, and fighting and fanaticising amid a Nation ofhis like, becomes as it were enveloped in an ambient atmosphere ofTranscendentalism and Delirium: his individual self is lost in somethingthat is not himself, but foreign though inseparable from him. Strange tothink of, the man's cloak still seems to hold the same man: and yet theman is not there, his volition is not there; nor the source of what hewill do and devise; instead of the man and his volition there is apiece of Fanaticism and Fatalism incarnated in the shape of him. He, thehapless incarnated Fanaticism, goes his road; no man can help him, hehimself least of all. It is a wonderful tragical predicament;--such ashuman language, unused to deal with these things, being contrived forthe uses of common life, struggles to shadow out in figures. The ambientelement of material fire is not wilder than this of Fanaticism; nor, though visible to the eye, is it more real. Volition bursts forthinvoluntary; rapt along; the movement of free human minds becomesa raging tornado of fatalism, blind as the winds; and Mountain andGironde, when they recover themselves, are alike astounded to see whereit has flung and dropt them. To such height of miracle can men work onmen; the Conscious and the Unconscious blended inscrutably in this ourinscrutable Life; endless Necessity environing Freewill! The weapons of the Girondins are Political Philosophy, Respectabilityand Eloquence. Eloquence, or call it rhetoric, really of a superiororder; Vergniaud, for instance, turns a period as sweetly as any man ofthat generation. The weapons of the Mountain are those of mere nature:Audacity and Impetuosity which may become Ferocity, as of men completein their determination, in their conviction; nay of men, in some cases, who as Septemberers must either prevail or perish. The ground to befought for is Popularity: further you may either seek Popularity withthe friends of Freedom and Order, or with the friends of Freedom Simple;to seek it with both has unhappily become impossible. With the formersort, and generally with the Authorities of the Departments, and suchas read Parliamentary Debates, and are of Respectability, and of apeace-loving monied nature, the Girondins carry it. With the extremePatriot again, with the indigent millions, especially with thePopulation of Paris who do not read so much as hear and see, theGirondins altogether lose it, and the Mountain carries it. Egoism, nor meanness of mind, is not wanting on either side. Surely noton the Girondin side; where in fact the instinct of self-preservation, too prominently unfolded by circumstances, cuts almost a sorry figure;where also a certain finesse, to the length even of shufflingand shamming, now and then shews itself. They are men skilful inAdvocate-fence. They have been called the Jesuits of the Revolution;(Dumouriez, Memoires, iii. 314. ) but that is too hard a name. It must beowned likewise that this rude blustering Mountain has a sense in it ofwhat the Revolution means; which these eloquent Girondins are totallyvoid of. Was the Revolution made, and fought for, against the world, these four weary years, that a Formula might be substantiated; thatSociety might become methodic, demonstrable by logic; and the oldNoblesse with their pretensions vanish? Or ought it not withal to bringsome glimmering of light and alleviation to the Twenty-five Millions, who sat in darkness, heavy-laden, till they rose with pikes in theirhands? At least and lowest, one would think, it should bring them aproportion of bread to live on? There is in the Mountain here and there;in Marat People's-friend; in the incorruptible Seagreen himself, thoughotherwise so lean and formularly, a heartfelt knowledge of this latterfact;--without which knowledge all other knowledge here is naught, andthe choicest forensic eloquence is as sounding brass and a tinklingcymbal. Most cold, on the other hand, most patronising, unsubstantial isthe tone of the Girondins towards 'our poorer brethren;'--those brethrenwhom one often hears of under the collective name of 'the masses, ' asif they were not persons at all, but mounds of combustible explosivematerial, for blowing down Bastilles with! In very truth, aRevolutionist of this kind, is he not a Solecism? Disowned by Nature andArt; deserving only to be erased, and disappear! Surely, to our poorerbrethren of Paris, all this Girondin patronage sounds deadening andkilling: if fine-spoken and incontrovertible in logic, then all thefalser, all the hatefuller in fact. Nay doubtless, pleading for Popularity, here among our poorer brethrenof Paris, the Girondin has a hard game to play. If he gain the ear ofthe Respectable at a distance, it is by insisting on September and suchlike; it is at the expense of this Paris where he dwells and perorates. Hard to perorate in such an auditory! Wherefore the question arises:Could we not get ourselves out of this Paris? Twice or oftener such anattempt is made. If not we ourselves, thinks Guadet, then at leastour Suppleans might do it. For every Deputy has his Suppleant, orSubstitute, who will take his place if need be: might not theseassemble, say at Bourges, which is a quiet episcopal Town, in quietBerri, forty good leagues off? In that case, what profit were it forthe Paris Sansculottery to insult us; our Suppleans sitting quietin Bourges, to whom we could run? Nay even the Primary electoralAssemblies, thinks Guadet, might be reconvoked, and a New Conventiongot, with new orders from the Sovereign people; and right glad wereLyons, were Bourdeaux, Rouen, Marseilles, as yet Provincial Towns, towelcome us in their turn, and become a sort of Capital Towns; and teachthese Parisians reason. Fond schemes; which all misgo! If decreed, in heat of eloquentlogic, to-day, they are repealed, by clamour, and passionate widerconsiderations, on the morrow. (Moniteur, 1793, No. 140, &c. ) Will you, O Girondins, parcel us into separate Republics, then; like the Swiss, like your Americans; so that there be no Metropolis or indivisibleFrench Nation any more? Your Departmental Guard seemed to point thatway! Federal Republic? Federalist? Men and Knitting-women repeatFederaliste, with or without much Dictionary-meaning; but go onrepeating it, as is usual in such cases, till the meaning of itbecomes almost magical, fit to designate all mystery of Iniquity;and Federaliste has grown a word of Exorcism and Apage-Satanas. But furthermore, consider what 'poisoning of public opinion' in theDepartments, by these Brissot, Gorsas, Caritat-Condorcet Newspapers!And then also what counter-poisoning, still feller in quality, by a PereDuchesne of Hebert, brutallest Newspaper yet published on Earth; by aRougiff of Guffroy; by the 'incendiary leaves of Marat!' More than once, on complaint given and effervescence rising, it is decreed that a mancannot both be Legislator and Editor; that he shall choose between theone function and the other. (Hist. Parl. Xxv. 25, &c. ) But this too, which indeed could help little, is revoked or eluded; remains a piouswish mainly. Meanwhile, as the sad fruit of such strife, behold, O ye NationalRepresentatives, how between the friends of Law and the friends ofFreedom everywhere, mere heats and jealousies have arisen; fevering thewhole Republic! Department, Provincial Town is set against Metropolis, Rich against Poor, Culottic against Sansculottic, man against man. Fromthe Southern Cities come Addresses of an almost inculpatory character;for Paris has long suffered Newspaper calumny. Bourdeaux demands areign of Law and Respectability, meaning Girondism, with emphasis. Withemphasis Marseilles demands the like. Nay from Marseilles there come twoAddresses: one Girondin; one Jacobin Sansculottic. Hot Rebecqui, sick ofthis Convention-work, has given place to his Substitute, and gone home;where also, with such jarrings, there is work to be sick of. Lyons, a place of Capitalists and Aristocrats, is in still worse state;almost in revolt. Chalier the Jacobin Town-Councillor has got, tooliterally, to daggers-drawn with Nievre-Chol the Moderantin Mayor; oneof your Moderate, perhaps Aristocrat, Royalist or Federalist Mayors!Chalier, who pilgrimed to Paris 'to behold Marat and the Mountain, ' hasverily kindled himself at their sacred urn: for on the 6th of Februarylast, History or Rumour has seen him haranguing his Lyons Jacobins ina quite transcendental manner, with a drawn dagger in his hand;recommending (they say) sheer September-methods, patience beingworn out; and that the Jacobin Brethren should, impromptu, work theGuillotine themselves! One sees him still, in Engravings: mounted ona table; foot advanced, body contorted; a bald, rude, slope-browed, infuriated visage of the canine species, the eyes starting fromtheir sockets; in his puissant right-hand the brandished dagger, orhorse-pistol, as some give it; other dog-visages kindling under him:--aman not likely to end well! However, the Guillotine was not got togetherimpromptu, that day, 'on the Pont Saint-Clair, ' or elsewhere; but indeedcontinued lying rusty in its loft: (Hist. Parl. Xxiv. 385-93; xxvi. 229, &c. ) Nievre-Chol with military went about, rumbling cannon, in the mostconfused manner; and the 'nine hundred prisoners' received no hurt. So distracted is Lyons grown, with its cannon rumbling. ConventionCommissioners must be sent thither forthwith: if even they can appeaseit, and keep the Guillotine in its loft? Consider finally if, on all these mad jarrings of the Southern Cities, and of France generally, a traitorous Crypto-Royalist class is notlooking and watching; ready to strike in, at the right season! Neitheris there bread; neither is there soap: see the Patriot women sellingout sugar, at a just rate of twenty-two sous per pound! CitizenRepresentatives, it were verily well that your quarrels finished, andthe reign of Perfect Felicity began. Chapter 3. 3. III. Growing shrill. On the whole, one cannot say that the Girondins are wanting tothemselves, so far as good-will might go. They prick assiduouslyinto the sore-places of the Mountain; from principle, and also fromjesuitism. Besides September, of which there is now little to be made excepteffervescence, we discern two sore-places where the Mountain oftensuffers: Marat and Orleans Egalite. Squalid Marat, for his own sake andfor the Mountain's, is assaulted ever and anon; held up to France, as asqualid bloodthirsty Portent, inciting to the pillage of shops; of whomlet the Mountain have the credit! The Mountain murmurs, ill at ease:this 'Maximum of Patriotism, ' how shall they either own him ordisown him? As for Marat personally, he, with his fixed-idea, remainsinvulnerable to such things: nay the People's-friend is very evidentlyrising in importance, as his befriended People rises. No shrieks now, when he goes to speak; occasional applauses rather, furtherance whichbreeds confidence. The day when the Girondins proposed to 'decree himaccused' (decreter d'accusation, as they phrase it) for that FebruaryParagraph, of 'hanging up a Forestaller or two at the door-lintels, 'Marat proposes to have them 'decreed insane;' and, descendingthe Tribune-steps, is heard to articulate these most unsenatorialejaculations: "Les Cochons, les imbecilles, Pigs, idiots!" Oftentimes hecroaks harsh sarcasm, having really a rough rasping tongue, and a verydeep fund of contempt for fine outsides; and once or twice, he evenlaughs, nay 'explodes into laughter, rit aux eclats, ' at the gentilitiesand superfine airs of these Girondin "men of statesmanship, " with theirpedantries, plausibilities, pusillanimities: "these two years, " says he, "you have been whining about attacks, and plots, and danger from Paris;and you have not a scratch to shew for yourselves. " (Moniteur, Seance du20 Mai 1793. )--Danton gruffly rebukes him, from time to time: a Maximumof Patriotism, whom one can neither own nor disown! But the second sore-place of the Mountain is this anomalous MonseigneurEquality Prince d'Orleans. Behold these men, says the Gironde; with awhilom Bourbon Prince among them: they are creatures of the d'OrleansFaction; they will have Philippe made King; one King no soonerguillotined than another made in his stead! Girondins have moved, Buzotmoved long ago, from principle and also from jesuitism, that the wholerace of Bourbons should be marched forth from the soil of France; thisPrince Egalite to bring up the rear. Motions which might produce someeffect on the public;--which the Mountain, ill at ease, knows not whatto do with. And poor Orleans Egalite himself, for one begins to pity even him, whatdoes he do with them? The disowned of all parties, the rejected andfoolishly be-drifted hither and hither, to what corner of Nature can henow drift with advantage? Feasible hope remains not for him: unfeasiblehope, in pallid doubtful glimmers, there may still come, bewildering, not cheering or illuminating, --from the Dumouriez quarter; and how, if not the timewasted Orleans Egalite, then perhaps the young unwornChartres Egalite might rise to be a kind of King? Sheltered, if shelterit be, in the clefts of the Mountain, poor Egalite will wait: one refugein Jacobinism, one in Dumouriez and Counter-Revolution, are therenot two chances? However, the look of him, Dame Genlis says, is growngloomy; sad to see. Sillery also, the Genlis's Husband, who hoversabout the Mountain, not on it, is in a bad way. Dame Genlis has cometo Raincy, out of England and Bury St. Edmunds, in these days; beingsummoned by Egalite, with her young charge, Mademoiselle Egalite, thatso Mademoiselle might not be counted among Emigrants and hardly dealtwith. But it proves a ravelled business: Genlis and charge find thatthey must retire to the Netherlands; must wait on the Frontiers for aweek or two; till Monseigneur, by Jacobin help, get it wound up. 'Nextmorning, ' says Dame Genlis, 'Monseigneur, gloomier than ever, gaveme his arm, to lead me to the carriage. I was greatly troubled;Mademoiselle burst into tears; her Father was pale and trembling. AfterI had got seated, he stood immovable at the carriage-door, with hiseyes fixed on me; his mournful and painful look seemed to implorepity;--"Adieu, Madame!" said he. The altered sound of his voicecompletely overcame me; not able to utter a word, I held out my hand;he grasped it close; then turning, and advancing sharply towards thepostillions, he gave them a sign, and we rolled away. ' (Genlis, Memoires(London, 1825), iv. 118. ) Nor are Peace-makers wanting; of whom likewise we mention two; onefast on the crown of the Mountain, the other not yet alighted anywhere:Danton and Barrere. Ingenious Barrere, Old-Constituent and Editorfrom the slopes of the Pyrenees, is one of the usefullest men of thisConvention, in his way. Truth may lie on both sides, on either side, or on neither side; my friends, ye must give and take: for the rest, success to the winning side! This is the motto of Barrere. Ingenious, almost genial; quick-sighted, supple, graceful; a man that will prosper. Scarcely Belial in the assembled Pandemonium was plausibler to ear andeye. An indispensable man: in the great Art of Varnish he may be saidto seek his fellow. Has there an explosion arisen, as many do arise, aconfusion, unsightliness, which no tongue can speak of, nor eye look on;give it to Barrere; Barrere shall be Committee-Reporter of it; you shallsee it transmute itself into a regularity, into the very beauty andimprovement that was needed. Without one such man, we say, how werethis Convention bested? Call him not, as exaggerative Mercier does, 'thegreatest liar in France:' nay it may be argued there is not truth enoughin him to make a real lie of. Call him, with Burke, Anacreon of theGuillotine, and a man serviceable to this Convention. The other Peace-maker whom we name is Danton. Peace, O peace with oneanother! cries Danton often enough: Are we not alone against the world;a little band of brothers? Broad Danton is loved by all the Mountain;but they think him too easy-tempered, deficient in suspicion: he hasstood between Dumouriez and much censure, anxious not to exasperate ouronly General: in the shrill tumult Danton's strong voice reverberates, for union and pacification. Meetings there are; dinings with theGirondins: it is so pressingly essential that there be union. But theGirondins are haughty and respectable; this Titan Danton is not a man ofFormulas, and there rests on him a shadow of September. "Your Girondinshave no confidence in me:" this is the answer a conciliatory Meillangets from him; to all the arguments and pleadings this conciliatoryMeillan can bring, the repeated answer is, "Ils n'ont point deconfiance. " (Memoires de Meillan, Representant du Peuple (Paris, 1823), p. 51. )--The tumult will get ever shriller; rage is growing pale. In fact, what a pang is it to the heart of a Girondin, this firstwithering probability that the despicable unphilosophic anarchicMountain, after all, may triumph! Brutal Septemberers, a fifth-floorTallien, 'a Robespierre without an idea in his head, ' as Condorcet says, 'or a feeling in his heart:' and yet we, the flower of France, cannotstand against them; behold the sceptre departs from us; from us and goesto them! Eloquence, Philosophism, Respectability avail not: 'againstStupidity the very gods fight to no purpose, 'Mit der Dummheit kampfen Gotter selbst vergebens!' Shrill are the plaints of Louvet; his thin existence all acidified intorage, and preternatural insight of suspicion. Wroth is young Barbaroux;wroth and scornful. Silent, like a Queen with the aspic on her bosom, sits the wife of Roland; Roland's Accounts never yet got audited, his name become a byword. Such is the fortune of war, especially ofrevolution. The great gulf of Tophet, and Tenth of August, opened itselfat the magic of your eloquent voice; and lo now, it will not close atyour voice! It is a dangerous thing such magic. The Magician's Famulusgot hold of the forbidden Book, and summoned a goblin: Plait-il, What isyour will? said the Goblin. The Famulus, somewhat struck, bade him fetchwater: the swift goblin fetched it, pail in each hand; but lo, would notcease fetching it! Desperate, the Famulus shrieks at him, smites at him, cuts him in two; lo, two goblin water-carriers ply; and the house willbe swum away in Deucalion Deluges. Chapter 3. 3. IV. Fatherland in Danger. Or rather we will say, this Senatorial war might have lasted long;and Party tugging and throttling with Party might have suppressed andsmothered one another, in the ordinary bloodless Parliamentary way;on one condition: that France had been at least able to exist, all thewhile. But this Sovereign People has a digestive faculty, and cannot dowithout bread. Also we are at war, and must have victory; at war withEurope, with Fate and Famine: and behold, in the spring of the year, allvictory deserts us. Dumouriez had his outposts stretched as far as Aix-la-Chapelle, and thebeautifullest plan for pouncing on Holland, by stratagem, flat-bottomedboats and rapid intrepidity; wherein too he had prospered so far; butunhappily could prosper no further. Aix-la-Chapelle is lost; Maestrichtwill not surrender to mere smoke and noise: the flat-bottomed boats mustlaunch themselves again, and return the way they came. Steady now, yerapidly intrepid men; retreat with firmness, Parthian-like! Alas, wereit General Miranda's fault; were it the War-minister's fault; or were itDumouriez's own fault and that of Fortune: enough, there is nothingfor it but retreat, --well if it be not even flight; for alreadyterror-stricken cohorts and stragglers pour off, not waiting for order;flow disastrous, as many as ten thousand of them, without halt till theysee France again. (Dumouriez, iv. 16-73. ) Nay worse: Dumouriez himselfis perhaps secretly turning traitor? Very sharp is the tone in which hewrites to our Committees. Commissioners and Jacobin Pillagers have donesuch incalculable mischief; Hassenfratz sends neither cartridges norclothing; shoes we have, deceptively 'soled with wood and pasteboard. 'Nothing in short is right. Danton and Lacroix, when it was they thatwere Commissioners, would needs join Belgium to France;--of whichDumouriez might have made the prettiest little Duchy for his own secretbehoof! With all these things the General is wroth; and writes to usin a sharp tone. Who knows what this hot little General is meditating?Dumouriez Duke of Belgium or Brabant; and say, Egalite the Younger Kingof France: there were an end for our Revolution!--Committee of Defencegazes, and shakes its head: who except Danton, defective in suspicion, could still struggle to be of hope? And General Custine is rolling back from the Rhine Country; conqueredMentz will be reconquered, the Prussians gathering round to bombardit with shot and shell. Mentz may resist, Commissioner Merlin, theThionviller, 'making sallies, at the head of the besieged;'--resist tothe death; but not longer than that. How sad a reverse for Mentz! BraveFoster, brave Lux planted Liberty-trees, amid ca-ira-ing music, in thesnow-slush of last winter, there: and made Jacobin Societies; and gotthe Territory incorporated with France: they came hither to Paris, asDeputies or Delegates, and have their eighteen francs a-day: but see, before once the Liberty-Tree is got rightly in leaf, Mentz is changinginto an explosive crater; vomiting fire, bevomited with fire! Neither of these men shall again see Mentz; they have come hither onlyto die. Foster has been round the Globe; he saw Cook perish under Owyheeclubs; but like this Paris he has yet seen or suffered nothing. Povertyescorts him: from home there can nothing come, except Job's-news;the eighteen daily francs, which we here as Deputy or Delegate withdifficulty 'touch, ' are in paper assignats, and sink fast in value. Poverty, disappointment, inaction, obloquy; the brave heart slowlybreaking! Such is Foster's lot. For the rest, Demoiselle Theroignesmiles on you in the Soirees; 'a beautiful brownlocked face, ' of anexalted temper; and contrives to keep her carriage. Prussian Trenck, thepoor subterranean Baron, jargons and jangles in an unmelodious manner. Thomas Paine's face is red-pustuled, 'but the eyes uncommonly bright. 'Convention Deputies ask you to dinner: very courteous; and 'we all playat plumsack. ' (Forster's Briefwechsel, ii. 514, 460, 631. ) 'It is theExplosion and New-creation of a World, ' says Foster; 'and the actorsin it, such small mean objects, buzzing round one like a handful offlies. '-- Likewise there is war with Spain. Spain will advance through the gorgesof the Pyrenees; rustling with Bourbon banners; jingling with artilleryand menace. And England has donned the red coat; and marches, with RoyalHighness of York, --whom some once spake of inviting to be our King. Changed that humour now: and ever more changing; till no hatefullerthing walk this Earth than a denizen of that tyrannous Island; and Pittbe declared and decreed, with effervescence, 'L'ennemi du genre humain, The enemy of mankind;' and, very singular to say, you make an orderthat no Soldier of Liberty give quarter to an Englishman. Which orderhowever, the Soldier of Liberty does but partially obey. We will takeno Prisoners then, say the Soldiers of Liberty; they shall all be'Deserters' that we take. (See Dampmartin, Evenemens, ii. 213-30. ) Itis a frantic order; and attended with inconvenience. For surely, if yougive no quarter, the plain issue is that you will get none; and so thebusiness become as broad as it was long. --Our 'recruitment of ThreeHundred Thousand men, ' which was the decreed force for this year, islike to have work enough laid to its hand. So many enemies come wending on; penetrating through throats ofMountains, steering over the salt sea; towards all points of ourterritory; rattling chains at us. Nay worst of all: there is an enemywithin our own territory itself. In the early days of March, the NantesPostbags do not arrive; there arrive only instead of them Conjecture, Apprehension, bodeful wind of Rumour. The bodefullest proves true! Thosefanatic Peoples of La Vendee will no longer keep under: their fire ofinsurrection, heretofore dissipated with difficulty, blazes out anew, after the King's Death, as a wide conflagration; not riot, but civilwar. Your Cathelineaus, your Stofflets, Charettes, are other men thanwas thought: behold how their Peasants, in mere russet and hodden, with their rude arms, rude array, with their fanatic Gaelic frenzy andwild-yelling battle-cry of God and the King, dash at us like a darkwhirlwind; and blow the best-disciplined Nationals we can get into panicand sauve-qui-peut! Field after field is theirs; one sees not where itwill end. Commandant Santerre may be sent thither; but with non-effect;he might as well have returned and brewed beer. It has become peremptorily necessary that a National Convention ceasearguing, and begin acting. Yield one party of you to the other, and doit swiftly. No theoretic outlook is here, but the close certainty ofruin; the very day that is passing over must be provided for. It was Friday the eighth of March when this Job's-post from Dumouriez, thickly preceded and escorted by so many other Job's-posts, reached theNational Convention. Blank enough are most faces. Little will it availwhether our Septemberers be punished or go unpunished; if Pitt andCobourg are coming in, with one punishment for us all; nothing nowbetween Paris itself and the Tyrants but a doubtful Dumouriez, and hostsin loose-flowing loud retreat!--Danton the Titan rises in this hour, asalways in the hour of need. Great is his voice, reverberating from thedomes:--Citizen-Representatives, shall we not, in such crisis of Fate, lay aside discords? Reputation: O what is the reputation of this man orof that? Que mon nom soit fletri, que la France soit libre, Let my namebe blighted; let France be free! It is necessary now again that Francerise, in swift vengeance, with her million right-hands, with her heartas of one man. Instantaneous recruitment in Paris; let every Sectionof Paris furnish its thousands; every section of France! Ninety-sixCommissioners of us, two for each Section of the Forty-eight, they mustgo forthwith, and tell Paris what the Country needs of her. Let Eightymore of us be sent, post-haste, over France; to spread the fire-cross, to call forth the might of men. Let the Eighty also be on the road, before this sitting rise. Let them go, and think what their errand is. Speedy Camp of Fifty thousand between Paris and the North Frontier; forParis will pour forth her volunteers! Shoulder to shoulder; one stronguniversal death-defiant rising and rushing; we shall hurl back theseSons of Night yet again; and France, in spite of the world, be free!(Moniteur in Hist. Parl. Xxv. 6. )--So sounds the Titan's voice: intoall Section-houses; into all French hearts. Sections sit in Permanence, for recruitment, enrolment, that very night. Convention Commissioners, on swift wheels, are carrying the fire-cross from Town to Town, till allFrance blaze. And so there is Flag of Fatherland in Danger waving from the Townhall, Black Flag from the top of Notre-Dame Cathedral; there is Proclamation, hot eloquence; Paris rushing out once again to strike its enemiesdown. That, in such circumstances, Paris was in no mild humour can beconjectured. Agitated streets; still more agitated round the Salle deManege! Feuillans-Terrace crowds itself with angry Citizens, angrierCitizenesses; Varlet perambulates with portable-chair: ejaculations ofno measured kind, as to perfidious fine-spoken Hommes d'etat, friends ofDumouriez, secret-friends of Pitt and Cobourg, burst from the heartsand lips of men. To fight the enemy? Yes, and even to "freeze him withterror, glacer d'effroi;" but first to have domestic Traitors punished!Who are they that, carping and quarrelling, in their jesuitic mostmoderate way, seek to shackle the Patriotic movement? That divide Franceagainst Paris, and poison public opinion in the Departments? That whenwe ask for bread, and a Maximum fixed-price, treat us with lectures onFree-trade in grains? Can the human stomach satisfy itself with lectureson Free-trade; and are we to fight the Austrians in a moderate manner, or in an immoderate? This Convention must be purged. "Set up a swift Tribunal for Traitors, a Maximum for Grains:" thusspeak with energy the Patriot Volunteers, as they defile through theConvention Hall, just on the wing to the Frontiers;--perorating inthat heroical Cambyses' vein of theirs: beshouted by the Galleries andMountain; bemurmured by the Right-side and Plain. Nor are prodigieswanting: lo, while a Captain of the Section Poissonniere perorates withvehemence about Dumouriez, Maximum, and Crypto-Royalist Traitors, andhis troop beat chorus with him, waving their Banner overhead, the eye ofa Deputy discerns, in this same Banner, that the cravates or streamersof it have Royal fleurs-de-lys! The Section-Captain shrieks; his troopshriek, horror-struck, and 'trample the Banner under foot:' seeminglythe work of some Crypto-Royalist Plotter? Most probable; (Choix desRapports, xi. 277. )--or perhaps at bottom, only the old Banner of theSection, manufactured prior to the Tenth of August, when such streamerswere according to rule! (Hist. Parl. Xxv. 72. ) History, looking over the Girondin Memoirs, anxious to disentangle thetruth of them from the hysterics, finds these days of March, especiallythis Sunday the Tenth of March, play a great part. Plots, plots: a plotfor murdering the Girondin Deputies; Anarchists and Secret-Royalistsplotting, in hellish concert, for that end! The far greater part ofwhich is hysterics. What we do find indisputable is that Louvet andcertain Girondins were apprehensive they might be murdered on Saturday, and did not go to the evening sitting: but held council with oneanother, each inciting his fellow to do something resolute, and endthese Anarchists: to which, however, Petion, opening the window, andfinding the night very wet, answered only, "Ils ne feront rien, " and'composedly resumed his violin, ' says Louvet: (Louvet, Memoires, p. 72. )thereby, with soft Lydian tweedledeeing, to wrap himself against eatingcares. Also that Louvet felt especially liable to being killed; thatseveral Girondins went abroad to seek beds: liable to being killed;but were not. Further that, in very truth, Journalist Deputy Gorsas, poisoner of the Departments, he and his Printer had their houses brokeninto (by a tumult of Patriots, among whom red-capped Varlet, AmericanFournier loom forth, in the darkness of the rain and riot); had theirwives put in fear; their presses, types and circumjacent equipmentsbeaten to ruin; no Mayor interfering in time; Gorsas himself escaping, pistol in hand, 'along the coping of the back wall. ' Further thatSunday, the morrow, was not a workday; and the streets were moreagitated than ever: Is it a new September, then, that these Anarchistsintend? Finally, that no September came;--and also that hysterics, not unnaturally, had reached almost their acme. (Meillan, pp. 23, 24;Louvet, pp. 71-80. ) Vergniaud denounces and deplores; in sweetly turned periods. SectionBonconseil, Good-counsel so-named, not Mauconseil or Ill-counsel as itonce was, --does a far notabler thing: demands that Vergniaud, Brissot, Guadet, and other denunciatory fine-spoken Girondins, to the number ofTwenty-two, be put under arrest! Section Good-counsel, so named eversince the Tenth of August, is sharply rebuked, like a Section ofIll-counsel; (Moniteur (Seance du 12 Mars), 15 Mars. ) but its word isspoken, and will not fall to the ground. In fact, one thing strikes us in these poor Girondins; their fatalshortness of vision; nay fatal poorness of character, for that is theroot of it. They are as strangers to the People they would govern;to the thing they have come to work in. Formulas, Philosophies, Respectabilities, what has been written in Books, and admitted by theCultivated Classes; this inadequate Scheme of Nature's working is allthat Nature, let her work as she will, can reveal to these men. Sothey perorate and speculate; and call on the Friends of Law, when thequestion is not Law or No-Law, but Life or No-Life. Pedants of theRevolution, if not Jesuits of it! Their Formalism is great; great alsois their Egoism. France rising to fight Austria has been raised only byPlot of the Tenth of March, to kill Twenty-two of them! This RevolutionProdigy, unfolding itself into terrific stature and articulation, byits own laws and Nature's, not by the laws of Formula, has becomeunintelligible, incredible as an impossibility, the waste chaos of aDream. ' A Republic founded on what they call the Virtues; on whatwe call the Decencies and Respectabilities: this they will have, andnothing but this. Whatsoever other Republic Nature and Reality send, shall be considered as not sent; as a kind of Nightmare Vision, andthing non-extant; disowned by the Laws of Nature, and of Formula. Alas!Dim for the best eyes is this Reality; and as for these men, they willnot look at it with eyes at all, but only through 'facetted spectacles'of Pedantry, wounded Vanity; which yield the most portentous fallaciousspectrum. Carping and complaining forever of Plots and Anarchy, theywill do one thing: prove, to demonstration, that the Reality willnot translate into their Formula; that they and their Formula areincompatible with the Reality: and, in its dark wrath, the Reality willextinguish it and them! What a man kens he cans. But the beginning ofa man's doom is that vision be withdrawn from him; that he see not thereality, but a false spectrum of the reality; and, following that, stepdarkly, with more or less velocity, downwards to the utter Dark; toRuin, which is the great Sea of Darkness, whither all falsehoods, winding or direct, continually flow! This Tenth of March we may mark as an epoch in the Girondin destinies;the rage so exasperated itself, the misconception so darkened itself. Many desert the sittings; many come to them armed. (Meillan, Memoires, pp. 85, 24. ) An honourable Deputy, setting out after breakfast, mustnow, besides taking his Notes, see whether his Priming is in order. Meanwhile with Dumouriez in Belgium it fares ever worse. Were it againGeneral Miranda's fault, or some other's fault, there is no doubtwhatever but the 'Battle of Nerwinden, ' on the 18th of March, islost; and our rapid retreat has become a far too rapid one. VictoriousCobourg, with his Austrian prickers, hangs like a dark cloud on therear of us: Dumouriez never off horseback night or day; engagement everythree hours; our whole discomfited Host rolling rapidly inwards, fullof rage, suspicion, and sauve-qui-peut! And then Dumouriez himself, whathis intents may be? Wicked seemingly and not charitable! His despatchesto Committee openly denounce a factious Convention, for the woes ithas brought on France and him. And his speeches--for the General has noreticence! The Execution of the Tyrant this Dumouriez calls the Murderof the King. Danton and Lacroix, flying thither as Commissioners oncemore, return very doubtful; even Danton now doubts. Three Jacobin Missionaries, Proly, Dubuisson, Pereyra, have flown forth;sped by a wakeful Mother Society: they are struck dumb to hear theGeneral speak. The Convention, according to this General, consists ofthree hundred scoundrels and four hundred imbeciles: France cannot dowithout a King. "But we have executed our King. " "And what is it to me, "hastily cries Dumouriez, a General of no reticence, "whether the King'sname be Ludovicus or Jacobus?" "Or Philippus!" rejoins Proly;--andhastens to report progress. Over the Frontiers such hope is there. Chapter 3. 3. V. Sansculottism Accoutred. Let us look, however, at the grand internal Sansculottism and RevolutionProdigy, whether it stirs and waxes: there and not elsewhere hope maystill be for France. The Revolution Prodigy, as Decree after Decreeissues from the Mountain, like creative fiats, accordant with the natureof the Thing, --is shaping itself rapidly, in these days, into terrificstature and articulation, limb after limb. Last March, 1792, we saw allFrance flowing in blind terror; shutting town-barriers, boiling pitchfor Brigands: happier, this March, that it is a seeing terror; that acreative Mountain exists, which can say fiat! Recruitment proceeds withfierce celerity: nevertheless our Volunteers hesitate to set out, tillTreason be punished at home; they do not fly to the frontiers; but onlyfly hither and thither, demanding and denouncing. The Mountain mustspeak new fiat, and new fiats. And does it not speak such? Take, as first example, those ComitesRevolutionnaires for the arrestment of Persons Suspect. RevolutionaryCommittee, of Twelve chosen Patriots, sits in every Township of France;examining the Suspect, seeking arms, making domiciliary visits andarrestments;--caring, generally, that the Republic suffer no detriment. Chosen by universal suffrage, each in its Section, they are a kind ofelixir of Jacobinism; some Forty-four Thousand of them awake and aliveover France! In Paris and all Towns, every house-door must have thenames of the inmates legibly printed on it, 'at a height not exceedingfive feet from the ground;' every Citizen must produce his certificatoryCarte de Civisme, signed by Section-President; every man be ready togive account of the faith that is in him. Persons Suspect had as welldepart this soil of Liberty! And yet departure too is bad: all Emigrantsare declared Traitors, their property become National; they are 'dead inLaw, '--save indeed that for our behoof they shall 'live yet fiftyyears in Law, ' and what heritages may fall to them in that time becomeNational too! A mad vitality of Jacobinism, with Forty-four Thousandcentres of activity, circulates through all fibres of France. Very notable also is the Tribunal Extraordinaire: (Moniteur, No. 70, (du 11 Mars), No. 76, &c. ) decreed by the Mountain; some Girondinsdissenting, for surely such a Court contradicts every formula;--otherGirondins assenting, nay co-operating, for do not we all hate Traitors, O ye people of Paris?--Tribunal of the Seventeenth in Autumn last wasswift; but this shall be swifter. Five Judges; a standing Jury, whichis named from Paris and the Neighbourhood, that there be not delay innaming it: they are subject to no Appeal; to hardly any Law-forms, butmust 'get themselves convinced' in all readiest ways; and for securityare bound 'to vote audibly;' audibly, in the hearing of a Paris Public. This is the Tribunal Extraordinaire; which, in few months, gettinginto most lively action, shall be entitled Tribunal Revolutionnaire, asindeed it from the very first has entitled itself: with a Herman ora Dumas for Judge President, with a Fouquier-Tinville forAttorney-General, and a Jury of such as Citizen Leroi, who has surnamedhimself Dix-Aout, 'Leroi August-Tenth, ' it will become the wonder ofthe world. Herein has Sansculottism fashioned for itself a Sword ofSharpness: a weapon magical; tempered in the Stygian hell-waters; to theedge of it all armour, and defence of strength or of cunning shall besoft; it shall mow down Lives and Brazen-gates; and the waving of itshed terror through the souls of men. But speaking of an amorphous Sansculottism taking form, ought we notabove all things to specify how the Amorphous gets itself a Head?Without metaphor, this Revolution Government continues hitherto in avery anarchic state. Executive Council of Ministers, Six in number, there is; but they, especially since Roland's retreat, have hardly knownwhether they were Ministers or not. Convention Committees sit supremeover them; but then each Committee as supreme as the others: Committeeof Twenty-one, of Defence, of General Surety; simultaneousor successive, for specific purposes. The Convention alone isall-powerful, --especially if the Commune go with it; but is too numerousfor an administrative body. Wherefore, in this perilous quick-whirlingcondition of the Republic, before the end of March, we obtain our smallComite de Salut Public; (Moniteur, No. 83 (du 24 Mars 1793) Nos. 86, 98, 99, 100. ) as it were, for miscellaneous accidental purposes, requiringdespatch;--as it proves, for a sort of universal supervision, and universal subjection. They are to report weekly, these newCommittee-men; but to deliberate in secret. Their number is Nine, firmPatriots all, Danton one of them: Renewable every month;--yet why notreelect them if they turn out well? The flower of the matter is thatthey are but nine; that they sit in secret. An insignificant-lookingthing at first, this Committee; but with a principle of growth in it!Forwarded by fortune, by internal Jacobin energy, it will reduceall Committees and the Convention itself to mute obedience, the SixMinisters to Six assiduous Clerks; and work its will on the Earth andunder Heaven, for a season. 'A Committee of Public Salvation, ' whereatthe world still shrieks and shudders. If we call that Revolutionary Tribunal a Sword, which Sansculottismhas provided for itself, then let us call the 'Law of the Maximum, ' aProvender-scrip, or Haversack, wherein better or worse some ration ofbread may be found. It is true, Political Economy, Girondin free-trade, and all law of supply and demand, are hereby hurled topsyturvy: but whathelp? Patriotism must live; the 'cupidity of farmers' seems to have nobowels. Wherefore this Law of the Maximum, fixing the highest price ofgrains, is, with infinite effort, got passed; (Moniteur, du 20 Avril, &c. To 20 Mai, 1793. ) and shall gradually extend itself into a Maximumfor all manner of comestibles and commodities: with such scrambling andtopsyturvying as may be fancied! For now, if, for example, the farmerwill not sell? The farmer shall be forced to sell. An accurateAccount of what grain he has shall be delivered in to the ConstitutedAuthorities: let him see that he say not too much; for in that case, his rents, taxes and contributions will rise proportionally: let himsee that he say not too little; for, on or before a set day, we shallsuppose in April, less than one-third of this declared quantity, mustremain in his barns, more than two-thirds of it must have been thrashedand sold. One can denounce him, and raise penalties. By such inextricable overturning of all Commercial relation willSansculottism keep life in; since not otherwise. On the whole, asCamille Desmoulins says once, "while the Sansculottes fight, theMonsieurs must pay. " So there come Impots Progressifs, Ascending Taxes;which consume, with fast-increasing voracity, and 'superfluous-revenue'of men: beyond fifty-pounds a-year you are not exempt; rising into thehundreds you bleed freely; into the thousands and tens of thousands, youbleed gushing. Also there come Requisitions; there comes 'Forced-Loanof a Milliard, ' some Fifty-Millions Sterling; which of course they thathave must lend. Unexampled enough: it has grown to be no country for theRich, this; but a country for the Poor! And then if one fly, what steadsit? Dead in Law; nay kept alive fifty years yet, for theiraccursed behoof! In this manner, therefore, it goes; topsyturvying, ca-ira-ing;--and withal there is endless sale of EmigrantNational-Property, there is Cambon with endless cornucopia of Assignats. The Trade and Finance of Sansculottism; and how, with Maximum andBakers'-queues, with Cupidity, Hunger, Denunciation and Paper-money, it led its galvanic-life, and began and ended, --remains the mostinteresting of all Chapters in Political Economy: still to be written. All which things are they not clean against Formula? O Girondin Friends, it is not a Republic of the Virtues we are getting; but only a Republicof the Strengths, virtuous and other! Chapter 3. 3. VI. The Traitor. But Dumouriez, with his fugitive Host, with his King Ludovicus or KingPhilippus? There lies the crisis; there hangs the question: RevolutionProdigy, or Counter-Revolution?--One wide shriek covers that North-Eastregion. Soldiers, full of rage, suspicion and terror, flock hither andthither; Dumouriez the many-counselled, never off horseback, knowsnow no counsel that were not worse than none: the counsel, namely, of joining himself with Cobourg; marching to Paris, extinguishingJacobinism, and, with some new King Ludovicus or King Philippus, restingthe Constitution of 1791! (Dumouriez, Memoires, iv. C. 7-10. ) Is Wisdom quitting Dumouriez; the herald of Fortune quitting him?Principle, faith political or other, beyond a certain faith ofmess-rooms, and honour of an officer, had him not to quit. At anyrate, his quarters in the Burgh of Saint-Amand; his headquarters inthe Village of Saint-Amand des Boues, a short way off, --have become aBedlam. National Representatives, Jacobin Missionaries are riding andrunning: of the 'three Towns, ' Lille, Valenciennes or even Conde, whichDumouriez wanted to snatch for himself, not one can be snatched: yourCaptain is admitted, but the Town-gate is closed on him, and then thePrison gate, and 'his men wander about the ramparts. ' Couriersgallop breathless; men wait, or seem waiting, to assassinate, tobe assassinated; Battalions nigh frantic with such suspicion anduncertainty, with Vive-la-Republique and Sauve-qui-peut, rush this wayand that;--Ruin and Desperation in the shape of Cobourg lying entrenchedclose by. Dame Genlis and her fair Princess d'Orleans find this Burgh ofSaint-Amand no fit place for them; Dumouriez's protection is grown worsethan none. Tough Genlis one of the toughest women; a woman, as it were, with nine lives in her; whom nothing will beat: she packs her bandboxes;clear for flight in a private manner. Her beloved Princess shewill--leave here, with the Prince Chartres Egalite her Brother. In thecold grey of the April morning, we find her accordingly establishedin her hired vehicle, on the street of Saint-Amand; postilions justcracking their whips to go, --when behold the young Princely Brother, struggling hitherward, hastily calling; bearing the Princess in hisarms! Hastily he has clutched the poor young lady up, in her verynight-gown, nothing saved of her goods except the watch from the pillow:with brotherly despair he flings her in, among the bandboxes, intoGenlis's chaise, into Genlis's arms: Leave her not, in the name of Mercyand Heaven! A shrill scene, but a brief one:--the postilions crack andgo. Ah, whither? Through by-roads and broken hill-passes: seekingtheir way with lanterns after nightfall; through perils, and CobourgAustrians, and suspicious French Nationals; finally, into Switzerland;safe though nigh moneyless. (Genlis, iv. 139. ) The brave young Egalitehas a most wild Morrow to look for; but now only himself to carrythrough it. For indeed over at that Village named of the Mudbaths, Saint-Amand desBoues, matters are still worse. About four o'clock on Tuesday afternoon, the 2d of April 1793, two Couriers come galloping as if for life: MonGeneral! Four National Representatives, War-Minister at their head, areposting hitherward, from Valenciennes: are close at hand, --with whatintents one may guess! While the Couriers are yet speaking, War-Ministerand National Representatives, old Camus the Archivist for chief speakerof them, arrive. Hardly has Mon General had time to order out the HuzzarRegiment de Berchigny; that it take rank and wait near by, in case ofaccident. And so, enter War-Minister Beurnonville, with an embrace offriendship, for he is an old friend; enter Archivist Camus and the otherthree, following him. They produce Papers, invite the General to the bar of the Convention:merely to give an explanation or two. The General finds it unsuitable, not to say impossible, and that "the service will suffer. " Then comesreasoning; the voice of the old Archivist getting loud. Vain to reasonloud with this Dumouriez; he answers mere angry irreverences. Andso, amid plumed staff-officers, very gloomy-looking; in jeopardy anduncertainty, these poor National messengers debate and consult, retireand re-enter, for the space of some two hours: without effect. WhereuponArchivist Camus, getting quite loud, proclaims, in the name of theNational Convention, for he has the power to do it, That GeneralDumouriez is arrested: "Will you obey the National Mandate, General!""Pas dans ce moment-ci, Not at this particular moment, " answers theGeneral also aloud; then glancing the other way, utters certain unknownvocables, in a mandatory manner; seemingly a German word-of-command. (Dumouriez, iv. 159, &c. ) Hussars clutch the Four NationalRepresentatives, and Beurnonville the War-minister; pack them out of theapartment; out of the Village, over the lines to Cobourg, in two chaisesthat very night, --as hostages, prisoners; to lie long in Maestricht andAustrian strongholds! (Their Narrative, written by Camus in Toulongeon, iii. App. 60-87. ) Jacta est alea. This night Dumouriez prints his 'Proclamation;' this night and themorrow the Dumouriez Army, in such darkness visible, and rage ofsemi-desperation as there is, shall meditate what the General is doing, what they themselves will do in it. Judge whether this Wednesday was ofhalcyon nature, for any one! But, on the Thursday morning, wediscern Dumouriez with small escort, with Chartres Egalite and a fewstaff-officers, ambling along the Conde Highway: perhaps they are forConde, and trying to persuade the Garrison there; at all events, they are for an interview with Cobourg, who waits in the woods byappointment, in that quarter. Nigh the Village of Doumet, three NationalBattalions, a set of men always full of Jacobinism, sweep past us;marching rather swiftly, --seemingly in mistake, by a way we had notordered. The General dismounts, steps into a cottage, a little fromthe wayside; will give them right order in writing. Hark! what strangegrowling is heard: what barkings are heard, loud yells of "Traitors, " of"Arrest:" the National Battalions have wheeled round, are emitting shot!Mount, Dumouriez, and spring for life! Dumouriez and Staff strike thespurs in, deep; vault over ditches, into the fields, which prove to bemorasses; sprawl and plunge for life; bewhistled with curses and lead. Sunk to the middle, with or without horses, several servants killed, they escape out of shot-range, to General Mack the Austrian's quarters. Nay they return on the morrow, to Saint-Amand and faithful foreignBerchigny; but what boots it? The Artillery has all revolted, isjingling off to Valenciennes: all have revolted, are revolting; exceptonly foreign Berchigny, to the extent of some poor fifteen hundred, none will follow Dumouriez against France and Indivisible Republic:Dumouriez's occupation's gone. (Memoires, iv. 162-180. ) Such an instinct of Frenehhood and Sansculottism dwells in these men:they will follow no Dumouriez nor Lafayette, nor any mortal onsuch errand. Shriek may be of Sauve-qui-peut, but will also be ofVive-la-Republique. New National Representatives arrive; new GeneralDampierre, soon killed in battle; new General Custine; the agitatedHosts draw back to some Camp of Famars; make head against Cobourg asthey can. And so Dumouriez is in the Austrian quarters; his drama ended, in thisrather sorry manner. A most shifty, wiry man; one of Heaven's Swiss thatwanted only work. Fifty years of unnoticed toil and valour; one year oftoil and valour, not unnoticed, but seen of all countries and centuries;then thirty other years again unnoticed, of Memoir-writing, EnglishPension, scheming and projecting to no purpose: Adieu thou Swiss ofHeaven, worthy to have been something else! His Staff go different ways. Brave young Egalite reaches Switzerland andthe Genlis Cottage; with a strong crabstick in his hand, a strong heartin his body: his Princedom in now reduced to that. Egalite the Fathersat playing whist, in his Palais Egalite, at Paris, on the 6th day ofthis same month of April, when a catchpole entered: Citoyen Egaliteis wanted at the Convention Committee! (See Montgaillard, iv. 144. )Examination, requiring Arrestment; finally requiring Imprisonment, transference to Marseilles and the Castle of If! Orleansdom has sunkin the black waters; Palais Egalite, which was Palais Royal, is like tobecome Palais National. Chapter 3. 3. VII. In Fight. Our Republic, by paper Decree, may be 'One and Indivisible;' but whatprofits it while these things are? Federalists in the Senate, renegadoesin the Army, traitors everywhere! France, all in desperate recruitmentsince the Tenth of March, does not fly to the frontier, but only flieshither and thither. This defection of contemptuous diplomatic Dumouriezfalls heavy on the fine-spoken high-sniffing Hommes d'etat, whom heconsorted with; forms a second epoch in their destinies. Or perhaps more strictly we might say, the second Girondin epoch, though little noticed then, began on the day when, in reference to thisdefection, the Girondins broke with Danton. It was the first day ofApril; Dumouriez had not yet plunged across the morasses to Cobourg, butwas evidently meaning to do it, and our Commissioners were off to arresthim; when what does the Girondin Lasource see good to do, but rise, and jesuitically question and insinuate at great length, whether a mainaccomplice of Dumouriez had not probably been--Danton? Gironde grinssardonic assent; Mountain holds its breath. The figure of Danton, Levasseur says, while this speech went on, was noteworthy. He sat erect, with a kind of internal convulsion struggling to keep itself motionless;his eye from time to time flashing wilder, his lip curling in Titanicscorn. (Memoires de Rene Levasseur (Bruxelles, 1830), i. 164. ) Lasource, in a fine-spoken attorney-manner, proceeds: there is this probability tohis mind, and there is that; probabilities which press painfully on him, which cast the Patriotism of Danton under a painful shade; which painfulshade he, Lasource, will hope that Danton may find it not impossible todispel. "Les Scelerats!" cries Danton, starting up, with clenched right-hand, Lasource having done: and descends from the Mountain, like a lava-flood;his answer not unready. Lasource's probabilities fly like idle dust; butleave a result behind them. "Ye were right, friends of the Mountain, "begins Danton, "and I was wrong: there is no peace possible with thesemen. Let it be war then! They will not save the Republic with us: itshall be saved without them; saved in spite of them. " Really a burst ofrude Parliamentary eloquence this; which is still worth reading, inthe old Moniteur! With fire-words the exasperated rude Titan rives andsmites these Girondins; at every hit the glad Mountain utters chorus:Marat, like a musical bis, repeating the last phrase. (Seance du 1erAvril, 1793 in Hist. Parl. Xxv. 24-35. ) Lasource's probabilities aregone: but Danton's pledge of battle remains lying. A third epoch, or scene in the Girondin Drama, or rather it is butthe completion of this second epoch, we reckon from the day when thepatience of virtuous Petion finally boiled over; and the Girondins, so to speak, took up this battle-pledge of Danton's and decreed Marataccused. It was the eleventh of the same month of April, on someeffervescence rising, such as often rose; and President had coveredhimself, mere Bedlam now ruling; and Mountain and Gironde were rushingon one another with clenched right-hands, and even with pistols in them;when, behold, the Girondin Duperret drew a sword! Shriek of horrorrose, instantly quenching all other effervescence, at sight of theclear murderous steel; whereupon Duperret returned it to the leatheragain;--confessing that he did indeed draw it, being instigated by akind of sacred madness, "sainte fureur, " and pistols held at him; butthat if he parricidally had chanced to scratch the outmost skin ofNational Representation with it, he too carried pistols, and would haveblown his brains out on the spot. (Hist. Parl. Xv. 397. ) But now in such posture of affairs, virtuous Petion rose, next morning, to lament these effervescences, this endless Anarchy invading theLegislative Sanctuary itself; and here, being growled at and howled atby the Mountain, his patience, long tried, did, as we say, boil over;and he spake vehemently, in high key, with foam on his lips; 'whence, 'says Marat, 'I concluded he had got 'la rage, ' the rabidity, ordog-madness. Rabidity smites others rabid: so there rises newfoam-lipped demand to have Anarchists extinguished; and speciallyto have Marat put under Accusation. Send a Representative to theRevolutionary Tribunal? Violate the inviolability of a Representative?Have a care, O Friends! This poor Marat has faults enough; but againstLiberty or Equality, what fault? That he has loved and fought for it, not wisely but too well. In dungeons and cellars, in pinching poverty, under anathema of men; even so, in such fight, has he grown so dingy, bleared; even so has his head become a Stylites one! Him you willfling to your Sword of Sharpness; while Cobourg and Pitt advance on us, fire-spitting? The Mountain is loud, the Gironde is loud and deaf; all lips are foamy. With 'Permanent-Session of twenty-four hours, ' with vote by rollcall, and a dead-lift effort, the Gironde carries it: Marat is ordered tothe Revolutionary Tribunal, to answer for that February Paragraph ofForestallers at the door-lintel, with other offences; and, after alittle hesitation, he obeys. (Moniteur, du 16 Avril 1793, et seqq. ) Thus is Danton's battle-pledge taken up: there is, as he said therewould be, 'war without truce or treaty, ni treve ni composition. 'Wherefore, close now with one another, Formula and Reality, indeath-grips, and wrestle it out; both of you cannot live, but only one! Chapter 3. 3. VIII. In Death-Grips. It proves what strength, were it only of inertia, there is inestablished Formulas, what weakness in nascent Realities, andillustrates several things, that this death-wrestle should still havelasted some six weeks or more. National business, discussion of theConstitutional Act, for our Constitution should decidedly be got ready, proceeds along with it. We even change our Locality; we shift, on theTenth of May, from the old Salle de Manege, into our new Hall, in thePalace, once a King's but now the Republic's, of the Tuileries. Hope andruth, flickering against despair and rage, still struggles in the mindsof men. It is a most dark confused death-wrestle, this of the six weeks. Formalist frenzy against Realist frenzy; Patriotism, Egoism, Pride, Anger, Vanity, Hope and Despair, all raised to the frenetic pitch:Frenzy meets Frenzy, like dark clashing whirlwinds; neither understandsthe other; the weaker, one day, will understand that it is verily sweptdown! Girondism is strong as established Formula and Respectability: donot as many as Seventy-two of the Departments, or say respectable Headsof Departments, declare for us? Calvados, which loves its Buzot, willeven rise in revolt, so hint the Addresses; Marseilles, cradle ofPatriotism, will rise; Bourdeaux will rise, and the Gironde Department, as one man; in a word, who will not rise, were our RepresentationNationale to be insulted, or one hair of a Deputy's head harmed! TheMountain, again, is strong as Reality and Audacity. To the Reality ofthe Mountain are not all furthersome things possible? A new Tenth ofAugust, if needful; nay a new Second of September!-- But, on Wednesday afternoon, twenty-fourth day of April, year 1793, what tumult as of fierce jubilee is this? It is Marat returning fromRevolutionary Tribunal! A week or more of death-peril: and now thereis triumphant acquittal; Revolutionary Tribunal can find no accusationagainst this man. And so the eye of History beholds Patriotism, whichhad gloomed unutterable things all week, break into loud jubilee, embrace its Marat; lift him into a chair of triumph, bear himshoulder-high through the streets. Shoulder-high is the injuredPeople's-friend, crowned with an oak-garland; amid the wavy sea of rednightcaps, carmagnole jackets, grenadier bonnets and female mob-caps;far-sounding like a sea! The injured People's-friend has here reachedhis culminating-point; he too strikes the stars with his sublime head. But the Reader can judge with what face President Lasource, he of the'painful probabilities, ' who presides in this Convention Hall, mightwelcome such jubilee-tide, when it got thither, and the Decreed ofAccusation floating on the top of it! A National Sapper, spokesman onthe occasion, says, the People know their Friend, and love his life astheir own; "whosoever wants Marat's head must get the Sapper's first. "(Seance in Moniteur, No. 116, du 26 Avril, An 1er. ) Lasource answeredwith some vague painful mumblement, --which, says Levasseur, one couldnot help tittering at. (Levasseur, Memoires, i. C. 6. ) Patriot Sections, Volunteers not yet gone to the Frontiers, come demanding the "purgationof traitors from your own bosom;" the expulsion, or even the trial andsentence, of a factious Twenty-two. Nevertheless the Gironde has got its Commission of Twelve; a Commissionspecially appointed for investigating these troubles of the LegislativeSanctuary: let Sansculottism say what it will, Law shall triumph. Old-Constituent Rabaut Saint-Etienne presides over this Commission:"it is the last plank whereon a wrecked Republic may perhaps still saveherself. " Rabaut and they therefore sit, intent; examiningwitnesses; launching arrestments; looking out into a waste dim sea oftroubles. --the womb of Formula, or perhaps her grave! Enter not thatsea, O Reader! There are dim desolation and confusion; raging women andraging men. Sections come demanding Twenty-two; for the number firstgiven by Section Bonconseil still holds, though the names should evenvary. Other Sections, of the wealthier kind, come denouncing suchdemand; nay the same Section will demand to-day, and denounce the demandto-morrow, according as the wealthier sit, or the poorer. Wherefore, indeed, the Girondins decree that all Sections shall close 'at tenin the evening;' before the working people come: which Decree remainswithout effect. And nightly the Mother of Patriotism wails doleful;doleful, but her eye kindling! And Fournier l'Americain is busy, andthe two Banker Freys, and Varlet Apostle of Liberty; the bull-voiceof Marquis Saint-Huruge is heard. And shrill women vociferate from allGalleries, the Convention ones and downwards. Nay a 'Central Committee'of all the Forty-eight Sections, looms forth huge and dubious; sittingdim in the Archeveche, sending Resolutions, receiving them: a Centre ofthe Sections; in dread deliberation as to a New Tenth of August! One thing we will specify to throw light on many: the aspect underwhich, seen through the eyes of these Girondin Twelve, or even seenthrough one's own eyes, the Patriotism of the softer sex presentsitself. There are Female Patriots, whom the Girondins call Megaeras, and count to the extent of eight thousand; with serpent-hair, all outof curl; who have changed the distaff for the dagger. They are of 'theSociety called Brotherly, ' Fraternelle, say Sisterly, which meets underthe roof of the Jacobins. 'Two thousand daggers, ' or so, have beenordered, --doubtless, for them. They rush to Versailles, to raise morewomen; but the Versailles women will not rise. (Buzot, Memoires, pp. 69, 84; Meillan, Memoires, pp. 192, 195, 196. See Commission des Douze inChoix des Rapports, xii. 69-131. ) Nay, behold, in National Garden of Tuileries, --Demoiselle Theroigneherself is become as a brownlocked Diana (were that possible) attackedby her own dogs, or she-dogs! The Demoiselle, keeping her carriage, isfor Liberty indeed, as she has full well shewn; but then for Libertywith Respectability: whereupon these serpent-haired Extreme She-Patriotsnow do fasten on her, tatter her, shamefully fustigate her, in theirshameful way; almost fling her into the Garden-ponds, had not helpintervened. Help, alas, to small purpose. The poor Demoiselle's head andnervous-system, none of the soundest, is so tattered and fluttered thatit will never recover; but flutter worse and worse, till it crack; andwithin year and day we hear of her in madhouse, and straitwaistcoat, which proves permanent!--Such brownlocked Figure did flutter, andinarticulately jabber and gesticulate, little able to speak the obscuremeaning it had, through some segment of that Eighteenth Century ofTime. She disappears here from the Revolution and Public History, forevermore. (Deux Amis, vii. 77-80; Forster, i. 514; Moore, i. 70. Shedid not die till 1817; in the Salpetriere, in the most abject state ofinsanity; see Esquirol, Des Maladies Mentales (Paris, 1838), i. 445-50. ) Another thing we will not again specify, yet again beseech the Readerto imagine: the reign of Fraternity and Perfection. Imagine, we say, OReader, that the Millennium were struggling on the threshold, and yetnot so much as groceries could be had, --owing to traitors. With whatimpetus would a man strike traitors, in that case? Ah, thou canst notimagine it: thou hast thy groceries safe in the shops, and little or nohope of a Millennium ever coming!--But, indeed, as to the temper therewas in men and women, does not this one fact say enough: the heightSUSPICION had risen to? Preternatural we often called it; seeminglyin the language of exaggeration: but listen to the cold deposition ofwitnesses. Not a musical Patriot can blow himself a snatch of melodyfrom the French Horn, sitting mildly pensive on the housetop, butMercier will recognise it to be a signal which one Plotting Committee ismaking to another. Distraction has possessed Harmony herself; lurks inthe sound of Marseillese and ca-ira. (Mercier, Nouveau Paris, vi. 63. )Louvet, who can see as deep into a millstone as the most, discerns thatwe shall be invited back to our old Hall of the Manege, by a Deputation;and then the Anarchists will massacre Twenty-two of us, as we walk over. It is Pitt and Cobourg; the gold of Pitt. --Poor Pitt! They littleknow what work he has with his own Friends of the People; getting thembespied, beheaded, their habeas-corpuses suspended, and his own SocialOrder and strong-boxes kept tight, --to fancy him raising mobs among hisneighbours! But the strangest fact connected with French or indeed with humanSuspicion, is perhaps this of Camille Desmoulins. Camille's head, one ofthe clearest in France, has got itself so saturated through every fibrewith Preternaturalism of Suspicion, that looking back on that Twelfth ofJuly 1789, when the thousands rose round him, yelling responsive athis word in the Palais Royal Garden, and took cockades, he finds itexplicable only on this hypothesis, That they were all hired to do it, and set on by the Foreign and other Plotters. 'It was not for nothing, 'says Camille with insight, 'that this multitude burst up round me whenI spoke!' No, not for nothing. Behind, around, before, it is onehuge Preternatural Puppet-play of Plots; Pitt pulling the wires. (See Histoire des Brissotins, par Camille Desmoulins, a Pamphlet ofCamille's, Paris, 1793. ) Almost I conjecture that I Camille myself am aPlot, and wooden with wires. --The force of insight could no further go. Be this as it will, History remarks that the Commission of Twelve, nowclear enough as to the Plots; and luckily having 'got the threads ofthem all by the end, ' as they say, --are launching Mandates of Arrestrapidly in these May days; and carrying matters with a high hand;resolute that the sea of troubles shall be restrained. What chiefPatriot, Section-President even, is safe? They can arrest him; tear himfrom his warm bed, because he has made irregular Section Arrestments!They arrest Varlet Apostle of Liberty. They arrest Procureur-SubstituteHebert, Pere Duchesne; a Magistrate of the People, sitting in Townhall;who, with high solemnity of martyrdom, takes leave of his colleagues;prompt he, to obey the Law; and solemnly acquiescent, disappears intoprison. The swifter fly the Sections, energetically demanding him back;demanding not arrestment of Popular Magistrates, but of a traitorousTwenty-two. Section comes flying after Section;--defiling energetic, with their Cambyses' vein of oratory: nay the Commune itself comes, with Mayor Pache at its head; and with question not of Hebert and theTwenty-two alone, but with this ominous old question made new, "Can yousave the Republic, or must we do it?" To whom President Max Isnard makesfiery answer: If by fatal chance, in any of those tumults which sincethe Tenth of March are ever returning, Paris were to lift a sacrilegiousfinger against the National Representation, France would rise as oneman, in never-imagined vengeance, and shortly "the traveller would ask, on which side of the Seine Paris had stood!" (Moniteur, Seance du 25Mai, 1793. ) Whereat the Mountain bellows only louder, and every Gallery;Patriot Paris boiling round. And Girondin Valaze has nightly conclaves at his house; sends billets;'Come punctually, and well armed, for there is to be business. ' AndMegaera women perambulate the streets, with flags, with lamentablealleleu. (Meillan, Memoires, p. 195; Buzot, pp. 69, 84. ) And theConvention-doors are obstructed by roaring multitudes: find-spokenhommes d'etat are hustled, maltreated, as they pass; Marat willapostrophise you, in such death-peril, and say, Thou too art of them. If Roland ask leave to quit Paris, there is order of the day. What help?Substitute Hebert, Apostle Varlet, must be given back; to be crownedwith oak-garlands. The Commission of Twelve, in a Convention overwhelmedwith roaring Sections, is broken; then on the morrow, in a Convention ofrallied Girondins, is reinstated. Dim Chaos, or the sea of troubles, isstruggling through all its elements; writhing and chafing towards somecreation. Chapter 3. 3. IX. Extinct. Accordingly, on Friday, the Thirty-first of May 1793, there comes forthinto the summer sunlight one of the strangest scenes. Mayor Pache withMunicipality arrives at the Tuileries Hall of Convention; sent for, Paris being in visible ferment; and gives the strangest news. How, in the grey of this morning, while we sat Permanent in Townhall, watchful for the commonweal, there entered, precisely as on a Tenth ofAugust, some Ninety-six extraneous persons; who declared themselves tobe in a state of Insurrection; to be plenipotentiary Commissioners fromthe Forty-eight Sections, sections or members of the Sovereign People, all in a state of Insurrection; and further that we, in the name of saidSovereign in Insurrection, were dismissed from office. How we thereuponlaid off our sashes, and withdrew into the adjacent Saloon of Liberty. How in a moment or two, we were called back; and reinstated; theSovereign pleasing to think us still worthy of confidence. Whereby, having taken new oath of office, we on a sudden find ourselvesInsurrectionary Magistrates, with extraneous Committee of Ninety-sixsitting by us; and a Citoyen Henriot, one whom some accuse ofSeptemberism, is made Generalissimo of the National Guard; and, sincesix o'clock, the tocsins ring and the drums beat:--Under which peculiarcircumstances, what would an august National Convention please to directus to do? (Compare Debats de la Convention (Paris, 1828), iv. 187-223;Moniteur, Nos. 152, 3, 4, An 1er. ) Yes, there is the question! "Break the Insurrectionary Authorities, "answers some with vehemence. Vergniaud at least will have "the NationalRepresentatives all die at their post;" this is sworn to, with readyloud acclaim. But as to breaking the Insurrectionary Authorities, --alas, while we yet debate, what sound is that? Sound of the Alarm-Cannon onthe Pont Neuf; which it is death by the Law to fire without order fromus! It does boom off there, nevertheless; sending a sound through allhearts. And the tocsins discourse stern music; and Henriot with hisArmed Force has enveloped us! And Section succeeds Section, the livelongday; demanding with Cambyses'-oratory, with the rattle of muskets, Thattraitors, Twenty-two or more, be punished; that the Commission ofTwelve be irrecoverably broken. The heart of the Gironde dies withinit; distant are the Seventy-two respectable Departments, this fieryMunicipality is near! Barrere is for a middle course; grantingsomething. The Commission of Twelve declares that, not waiting to bebroken, it hereby breaks itself, and is no more. Fain would ReporterRabaut speak his and its last-words; but he is bellowed off. Too happythat the Twenty-two are still left unviolated!--Vergniaud, carrying thelaws of refinement to a great length, moves, to the amazement of some, that 'the Sections of Paris have deserved well of their country. 'Whereupon, at a late hour of the evening, the deserving Sections retireto their respective places of abode. Barrere shall report on it. Withbusy quill and brain he sits, secluded; for him no sleep to-night. Friday the last of May has ended in this manner. The Sections have deserved well: but ought they not to deserve better?Faction and Girondism is struck down for the moment, and consents to bea nullity; but will it not, at another favourabler moment rise, stillfeller; and the Republic have to be saved in spite of it? So reasonsPatriotism, still Permanent; so reasons the Figure of Marat, visible inthe dim Section-world, on the morrow. To the conviction of men!--And soat eventide of Saturday, when Barrere had just got it all varnished inthe course of the day, and his Report was setting off in the eveningmail-bags, tocsin peals out again! Generale is beating; armed men takingstation in the Place Vendome and elsewhere for the night; supplied withprovisions and liquor. There under the summer stars will they wait, thisnight, what is to be seen and to be done, Henriot and Townhall givingdue signal. The Convention, at sound of generale, hastens back to its Hall; butto the number only of a Hundred; and does little business, puts offbusiness till the morrow. The Girondins do not stir out thither, theGirondins are abroad seeking beds. Poor Rabaut, on the morrow morning, returning to his post, with Louvet and some others, through streets allin ferment, wrings his hands, ejaculating, "Illa suprema dies!" (Louvet, Memoires, p. 89. ) It has become Sunday, the second day of June, year1793, by the old style; by the new style, year One of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity. We have got to the last scene of all, that ends this historyof the Girondin Senatorship. It seems doubtful whether any terrestrial Convention had ever met insuch circumstances as this National one now does. Tocsin is pealing;Barriers shut; all Paris is on the gaze, or under arms. As many as aHundred Thousand under arms they count: National Force; and the ArmedVolunteers, who should have flown to the Frontiers and La Vendee; butwould not, treason being unpunished; and only flew hither and thither!So many, steady under arms, environ the National Tuileries and Garden. There are horse, foot, artillery, sappers with beards: the artilleryone can see with their camp-furnaces in this National Garden, heatingbullets red, and their match is lighted. Henriot in plumes rides, amid aplumed Staff: all posts and issues are safe; reserves lie out, as far asthe Wood of Boulogne; the choicest Patriots nearest the scene. Oneother circumstance we will note: that a careful Municipality, liberalof camp-furnaces, has not forgotten provision-carts. No member of theSovereign need now go home to dinner; but can keep rank, --plentifulvictual circulating unsought. Does not this People understandInsurrection? Ye, not uninventive, Gualches!-- Therefore let a National Representation, 'mandatories of the Sovereign, 'take thought of it. Expulsion of your Twenty-two, and your Commission ofTwelve: we stand here till it be done! Deputation after Deputation, in ever stronger language, comes with that message. Barrere proposesa middle course:--Will not perhaps the inculpated Deputies consent towithdraw voluntarily; to make a generous demission, and self-sacrificefor the sake of one's country? Isnard, repentant of that search on whichriver-bank Paris stood, declares himself ready to demit. Ready alsois Te-Deum Fauchet; old Dusaulx of the Bastille, 'vieux radoteur, old dotard, ' as Marat calls him, is still readier. On the contrary, Lanjuinais the Breton declares that there is one man who never willdemit voluntarily; but will protest to the uttermost, while a voice isleft him. And he accordingly goes on protesting; amid rage and clangor;Legendre crying at last: "Lanjuinais, come down from the Tribune, or Iwill fling thee down, ou je te jette en bas!" For matters are cometo extremity. Nay they do clutch hold of Lanjuinais, certain zealousMountain-men; but cannot fling him down, for he 'cramps himself on therailing;' and 'his clothes get torn. ' Brave Senator, worthy of pity!Neither will Barbaroux demit; he "has sworn to die at his post, andwill keep that oath. " Whereupon the Galleries all rise with explosion;brandishing weapons, some of them; and rush out saying: "Allons, then;we must save our country!" Such a Session is this of Sunday the secondof June. Churches fill, over Christian Europe, and then empty themselves; butthis Convention empties not, the while: a day of shrieking contention, of agony, humiliation and tearing of coatskirts; illa suprema dies!Round stand Henriot and his Hundred Thousand, copiously refreshedfrom tray and basket: nay he is 'distributing five francs a-piece;' weGirondins saw it with our eyes; five francs to keep them in heart! Anddistraction of armed riot encumbers our borders, jangles at our Bar; weare prisoners in our own Hall: Bishop Gregoire could not get out fora besoin actuel without four gendarmes to wait on him! What is thecharacter of a National Representative become? And now the sunlightfalls yellower on western windows, and the chimney-tops are flinginglonger shadows; the refreshed Hundred Thousand, nor their shadows, stirnot! What to resolve on? Motion rises, superfluous one would think, Thatthe Convention go forth in a body; ascertain with its own eyeswhether it is free or not. Lo, therefore, from the Eastern Gate of theTuileries, a distressed Convention issuing; handsome Herault Sechellesat their head; he with hat on, in sign of public calamity, the restbareheaded, --towards the Gate of the Carrousel; wondrous to see: towardsHenriot and his plumed staff. "In the name of the National Convention, make way!" Not an inch of the way does Henriot make: "I receive noorders, till the Sovereign, yours and mine, has been obeyed. " TheConvention presses on; Henriot prances back, with his staff, somefifteen paces, "To arms! Cannoneers to your guns!"--flashes out hispuissant sword, as the Staff all do, and the Hussars all do. Cannoneersbrandish the lit match; Infantry present arms, --alas, in the level way, as if for firing! Hatted Herault leads his distressed flock, throughtheir pinfold of a Tuileries again; across the Garden, to the Gate onthe opposite side. Here is Feuillans Terrace, alas, there is our oldSalle de Manege; but neither at this Gate of the Pont Tournant is thereegress. Try the other; and the other: no egress! We wander disconsolatethrough armed ranks; who indeed salute with Live the Republic, but alsowith Die the Gironde. Other such sight, in the year One of Liberty, thewestering sun never saw. And now behold Marat meets us; for he lagged in this SuppliantProcession of ours: he has got some hundred elect Patriots at his heels:he orders us in the Sovereign's name to return to our place, and doas we are bidden and bound. The Convention returns. "Does not theConvention, " says Couthon with a singular power of face, "see that itis free?"--none but friends round it? The Convention, overflowing withfriends and armed Sectioners, proceeds to vote as bidden. Many will notvote, but remain silent; some one or two protest, in words: theMountain has a clear unanimity. Commission of Twelve, and the denouncedTwenty-two, to whom we add Ex-Ministers Claviere and Lebrun: these, withsome slight extempore alterations (this or that orator proposing, but Marat disposing), are voted to be under 'Arrestment in their ownhouses. ' Brissot, Buzot, Vergniaud, Guadet, Louvet, Gensonne, Barbaroux, Lasource, Lanjuinais, Rabaut, --Thirty-two, by the tale; all that wehave known as Girondins, and more than we have known. They, 'under thesafeguard of the French People;' by and by, under the safeguard oftwo Gendarmes each, shall dwell peaceably in their own houses; asNon-Senators; till further order. Herewith ends Seance of Sunday thesecond of June 1793. At ten o'clock, under mild stars, the Hundred Thousand, their work wellfinished, turn homewards. This same day, Central Insurrection Committeehas arrested Madame Roland; imprisoned her in the Abbaye. Roland hasfled, no one knows whither. Thus fell the Girondins, by Insurrection; and became extinct as a Party:not without a sigh from most Historians. The men were men of parts, ofPhilosophic culture, decent behaviour; not condemnable in that they werePedants and had not better parts; not condemnable, but most unfortunate. They wanted a Republic of the Virtues, wherein themselves should behead; and they could only get a Republic of the Strengths, whereinothers than they were head. For the rest, Barrere shall make Report of it. The night concludes witha 'civic promenade by torchlight:' (Buzot, Memoires, p. 310. See PiecesJustificatives, of Narratives, Commentaries, &c. In Buzot, Louvet, Meillan: Documens Complementaires, in Hist. Parl. Xxviii. 1-78. ) surelythe true reign of Fraternity is now not far? BOOK 3. IV. TERROR Chapter 3. 4. I. Charlotte Corday. In the leafy months of June and July, several French Departmentsgerminate a set of rebellious paper-leaves, named Proclamations, Resolutions, Journals, or Diurnals 'of the Union for Resistance toOppression. ' In particular, the Town of Caen, in Calvados, sees itspaper-leaf of Bulletin de Caen suddenly bud, suddenly establishitself as Newspaper there; under the Editorship of Girondin NationalRepresentatives! For among the proscribed Girondins are certain of a more desperatehumour. Some, as Vergniaud, Valaze, Gensonne, 'arrested in their ownhouses' will await with stoical resignation what the issue may be. Some, as Brissot, Rabaut, will take to flight, to concealment; which, as theParis Barriers are opened again in a day or two, is not yet difficult. But others there are who will rush, with Buzot, to Calvados; or far overFrance, to Lyons, Toulon, Nantes and elsewhither, and then rendezvousat Caen: to awaken as with war-trumpet the respectable Departments; andstrike down an anarchic Mountain Faction; at least not yield without astroke at it. Of this latter temper we count some score or more, of theArrested, and of the Not-yet-arrested; a Buzot, a Barbaroux, Louvet, Guadet, Petion, who have escaped from Arrestment in their own homes;a Salles, a Pythagorean Valady, a Duchatel, the Duchatel that came inblanket and nightcap to vote for the life of Louis, who have escapedfrom danger and likelihood of Arrestment. These, to the number at onetime of Twenty-seven, do accordingly lodge here, at the 'Intendance, or Departmental Mansion, ' of the Town of Caen; welcomed by Persons inAuthority; welcomed and defrayed, having no money of their own. And theBulletin de Caen comes forth, with the most animating paragraphs: Howthe Bourdeaux Department, the Lyons Department, this Department afterthe other is declaring itself; sixty, or say sixty-nine, or seventy-two(Meillan, p. 72, 73; Louvet, p. 129. ) respectable Departments eitherdeclaring, or ready to declare. Nay Marseilles, it seems, will march onParis by itself, if need be. So has Marseilles Town said, That shewill march. But on the other hand, that Montelimart Town has said, Nothoroughfare; and means even to 'bury herself' under her own stone andmortar first--of this be no mention in Bulletin of Caen. Such animating paragraphs we read in this Newspaper; and fervours, andeloquent sarcasm: tirades against the Mountain, frame pen of DeputySalles; which resemble, say friends, Pascal's Provincials. What ismore to the purpose, these Girondins have got a General in chief, oneWimpfen, formerly under Dumouriez; also a secondary questionable GeneralPuisaye, and others; and are doing their best to raise a force for war. National Volunteers, whosoever is of right heart: gather in, ye NationalVolunteers, friends of Liberty; from our Calvados Townships, from theEure, from Brittany, from far and near; forward to Paris, and extinguishAnarchy! Thus at Caen, in the early July days, there is a drumming andparading, a perorating and consulting: Staff and Army; Council; Club ofCarabots, Anti-jacobin friends of Freedom, to denounce atrocious Marat. With all which, and the editing of Bulletins, a National Representativehas his hands full. At Caen it is most animated; and, as one hopes, more or less animated inthe 'Seventy-two Departments that adhere to us. ' And in a France begirtwith Cimmerian invading Coalitions, and torn with an internal La Vendee, this is the conclusion we have arrived at: to put down Anarchy by CivilWar! Durum et durum, the Proverb says, non faciunt murum. La Vendeeburns: Santerre can do nothing there; he may return home and brew beer. Cimmerian bombshells fly all along the North. That Siege of Mentz isbecome famed;--lovers of the Picturesque (as Goethe will testify), washed country-people of both sexes, stroll thither on Sundays, to seethe artillery work and counterwork; 'you only duck a little whilethe shot whizzes past. ' (Belagerung von Mainz, Goethe's Werke, xxx. 278-334. ) Conde is capitulating to the Austrians; Royal Highness ofYork, these several weeks, fiercely batters Valenciennes. For, alas, our fortified Camp of Famars was stormed; General Dampierre was killed;General Custine was blamed, --and indeed is now come to Paris to give'explanations. ' Against all which the Mountain and atrocious Marat must even make headas they can. They, anarchic Convention as they are, publish Decrees, expostulatory, explanatory, yet not without severity; they ray forthCommissioners, singly or in pairs, the olive-branch in one hand, yet thesword in the other. Commissioners come even to Caen; but withouteffect. Mathematical Romme, and Prieur named of the Cote d'Or, venturingthither, with their olive and sword, are packed into prison: there mayRomme lie, under lock and key, 'for fifty days;' and meditate his NewCalendar, if he please. Cimmeria and Civil War! Never was Republic Oneand Indivisible at a lower ebb. -- Amid which dim ferment of Caen and the World, History specially noticesone thing: in the lobby of the Mansion de l'Intendance, where busyDeputies are coming and going, a young Lady with an aged valet, takinggrave graceful leave of Deputy Barbaroux. (Meillan, p. 75; Louvet, p. 114. ) She is of stately Norman figure; in her twenty-fifth year; ofbeautiful still countenance: her name is Charlotte Corday, heretoforestyled d'Armans, while Nobility still was. Barbaroux has given hera Note to Deputy Duperret, --him who once drew his sword in theeffervescence. Apparently she will to Paris on some errand? 'She wasa Republican before the Revolution, and never wanted energy. ' Acompleteness, a decision is in this fair female Figure: 'by energyshe means the spirit that will prompt one to sacrifice himself for hiscountry. ' What if she, this fair young Charlotte, had emerged fromher secluded stillness, suddenly like a Star; cruel-lovely, withhalf-angelic, half-demonic splendour; to gleam for a moment, and in amoment be extinguished: to be held in memory, so bright complete wasshe, through long centuries!--Quitting Cimmerian Coalitions without, andthe dim-simmering Twenty-five millions within, History will look fixedlyat this one fair Apparition of a Charlotte Corday; will note whitherCharlotte moves, how the little Life burns forth so radiant, thenvanishes swallowed of the Night. With Barbaroux's Note of Introduction, and slight stock of luggage, we see Charlotte, on Tuesday the ninth of July, seated in the CaenDiligence, with a place for Paris. None takes farewell of her, wishesher Good-journey: her Father will find a line left, signifying that sheis gone to England, that he must pardon her and forget her. The drowsyDiligence lumbers along; amid drowsy talk of Politics, and praise of theMountain; in which she mingles not; all night, all day, and againall night. On Thursday, not long before none, we are at the Bridge ofNeuilly; here is Paris with her thousand black domes, --the goal andpurpose of thy journey! Arrived at the Inn de la Providence in the Ruedes Vieux Augustins, Charlotte demands a room; hastens to bed; sleepsall afternoon and night, till the morrow morning. On the morrow morning, she delivers her Note to Duperret. It relates tocertain Family Papers which are in the Minister of the Interior's hand;which a Nun at Caen, an old Convent-friend of Charlotte's, has need of;which Duperret shall assist her in getting: this then was Charlotte'serrand to Paris? She has finished this, in the course of Friday;--yetsays nothing of returning. She has seen and silently investigatedseveral things. The Convention, in bodily reality, she has seen; whatthe Mountain is like. The living physiognomy of Marat she could not see;he is sick at present, and confined to home. About eight on the Saturday morning, she purchases a large sheath-knifein the Palais Royal; then straightway, in the Place des Victoires, takesa hackney-coach: "To the Rue de l'Ecole de Medecine, No. 44. " It is theresidence of the Citoyen Marat!--The Citoyen Marat is ill, and cannotbe seen; which seems to disappoint her much. Her business is with Marat, then? Hapless beautiful Charlotte; hapless squalid Marat! From Caen inthe utmost West, from Neuchatel in the utmost East, they two aredrawing nigh each other; they two have, very strangely, businesstogether. --Charlotte, returning to her Inn, despatches a short Note toMarat; signifying that she is from Caen, the seat of rebellion; that shedesires earnestly to see him, and 'will put it in his power to do Francea great service. ' No answer. Charlotte writes another Note, stillmore pressing; sets out with it by coach, about seven in the evening, herself. Tired day-labourers have again finished their Week; huge Parisis circling and simmering, manifold, according to its vague wont: thisone fair Figure has decision in it; drives straight, --towards a purpose. It is yellow July evening, we say, the thirteenth of the month; eve ofthe Bastille day, --when 'M. Marat, ' four years ago, in the crowd of thePont Neuf, shrewdly required of that Besenval Hussar-party, which hadsuch friendly dispositions, "to dismount, and give up their arms, then;"and became notable among Patriot men! Four years: what a road he hastravelled;--and sits now, about half-past seven of the clock, stewingin slipper-bath; sore afflicted; ill of Revolution Fever, --of what othermalady this History had rather not name. Excessively sick and worn, poorman: with precisely elevenpence-halfpenny of ready money, in paper; withslipper-bath; strong three-footed stool for writing on, the while; and asqualid--Washerwoman, one may call her: that is his civic establishmentin Medical-School Street; thither and not elsewhither has his road ledhim. Not to the reign of Brotherhood and Perfect Felicity; yet surelyon the way towards that?--Hark, a rap again! A musical woman's-voice, refusing to be rejected: it is the Citoyenne who would do France aservice. Marat, recognising from within, cries, Admit her. CharlotteCorday is admitted. Citoyen Marat, I am from Caen the seat of rebellion, and wished to speakwith you. --Be seated, mon enfant. Now what are the Traitors doing atCaen? What Deputies are at Caen?--Charlotte names some Deputies. "Theirheads shall fall within a fortnight, " croaks the eager People's-Friend, clutching his tablets to write: Barbaroux, Petion, writes he withbare shrunk arm, turning aside in the bath: Petion, and Louvet, and--Charlotte has drawn her knife from the sheath; plunges it, with onesure stroke, into the writer's heart. "A moi, chere amie, Help, dear!"No more could the Death-choked say or shriek. The helpful Washerwomanrunning in, there is no Friend of the People, or Friend of theWasherwoman, left; but his life with a groan gushes out, indignant, tothe shades below. (Moniteur, Nos. 197, 198, 199; Hist. Parl. Xxviii. 301-5; Deux Amis, x. 368-374. ) And so Marat People's-Friend is ended; the lone Stylites has got hurleddown suddenly from his Pillar, --whither He that made him does know. Patriot Paris may sound triple and tenfold, in dole and wail; re-echoedby Patriot France; and the Convention, 'Chabot pale with terrordeclaring that they are to be all assassinated, ' may decree him PantheonHonours, Public Funeral, Mirabeau's dust making way for him; and JacobinSocieties, in lamentable oratory, summing up his character, parallel himto One, whom they think it honour to call 'the good Sansculotte, '--whomwe name not here. (See Eloge funebre de Jean-Paul Marat, prononce aStrasbourg in Barbaroux, p. 125-131; Mercier, &c. ) Also a Chapel maybe made, for the urn that holds his Heart, in the Place du Carrousel;and new-born children be named Marat; and Lago-de-Como Hawkers bakemountains of stucco into unbeautiful Busts; and David paint his Picture, or Death-scene; and such other Apotheosis take place as the humangenius, in these circumstances, can devise: but Marat returns no moreto the light of this Sun. One sole circumstance we have read with clearsympathy, in the old Moniteur Newspaper: how Marat's brother comes fromNeuchatel to ask of the Convention 'that the deceased Jean-Paul Marat'smusket be given him. ' (Seance du 16 Septembre 1793. ) For Marat too hada brother, and natural affections; and was wrapt once inswaddling-clothes, and slept safe in a cradle like the rest of us. Yechildren of men!--A sister of his, they say, lives still to this day inParis. As for Charlotte Corday her work is accomplished; the recompense of itis near and sure. The chere amie, and neighbours of the house, flyingat her, she 'overturns some movables, ' entrenches herself till thegendarmes arrive; then quietly surrenders; goes quietly to the AbbayePrison: she alone quiet, all Paris sounding in wonder, in rage oradmiration, round her. Duperret is put in arrest, on account of her; hisPapers sealed, --which may lead to consequences. Fauchet, in like manner;though Fauchet had not so much as heard of her. Charlotte, confrontedwith these two Deputies, praises the grave firmness of Duperret, censures the dejection of Fauchet. On Wednesday morning, the thronged Palais de Justice and RevolutionaryTribunal can see her face; beautiful and calm: she dates it 'fourth dayof the Preparation of Peace. ' A strange murmur ran through the Hall, atsight of her; you could not say of what character. (Proces de CharlotteCorday, &c. Hist. Parl. Xxviii. 311-338. ) Tinville has his indictmentsand tape-papers the cutler of the Palais Royal will testify that hesold her the sheath-knife; "all these details are needless, " interruptedCharlotte; "it is I that killed Marat. " By whose instigation?--"By noone's. " What tempted you, then? His crimes. "I killed one man, " addedshe, raising her voice extremely (extremement), as they went on withtheir questions, "I killed one man to save a hundred thousand; a villainto save innocents; a savage wild-beast to give repose to my country. Iwas a Republican before the Revolution; I never wanted energy. " Thereis therefore nothing to be said. The public gazes astonished: the hastylimners sketch her features, Charlotte not disapproving; the men of lawproceed with their formalities. The doom is Death as a murderess. Toher Advocate she gives thanks; in gentle phrase, in high-flown classicalspirit. To the Priest they send her she gives thanks; but needs not anyshriving, or ghostly or other aid from him. On this same evening, therefore, about half-past seven o'clock, fromthe gate of the Conciergerie, to a City all on tiptoe, the fatal Cartissues: seated on it a fair young creature, sheeted in red smock ofMurderess; so beautiful, serene, so full of life; journeying towardsdeath, --alone amid the world. Many take off their hats, salutingreverently; for what heart but must be touched? (Deux Amis, x. 374-384. )Others growl and howl. Adam Lux, of Mentz, declares that she is greaterthan Brutus; that it were beautiful to die with her: the head of thisyoung man seems turned. At the Place de la Revolution, the countenanceof Charlotte wears the same still smile. The executioners proceed tobind her feet; she resists, thinking it meant as an insult; on a wordof explanation, she submits with cheerful apology. As the last act, allbeing now ready, they take the neckerchief from her neck: a blush ofmaidenly shame overspreads that fair face and neck; the cheeks werestill tinged with it, when the executioner lifted the severed head, toshew it to the people. 'It is most true, ' says Foster, 'that he struckthe cheek insultingly; for I saw it with my eyes: the Police imprisonedhim for it. ' (Briefwechsel, i. 508. ) In this manner have the Beautifullest and the Squalidest come incollision, and extinguished one another. Jean-Paul Marat and Marie-AnneCharlotte Corday both, suddenly, are no more. 'Day of the Preparation ofPeace?' Alas, how were peace possible or preparable, while, for example, the hearts of lovely Maidens, in their convent-stillness, are dreamingnot of Love-paradises, and the light of Life; but of Codrus'-sacrifices, and death well earned? That Twenty-five million hearts have got to suchtemper, this is the Anarchy; the soul of it lies in this: whereofnot peace can be the embodyment! The death of Marat, whetting oldanimosities tenfold, will be worse than any life. O ye hapless Two, mutually extinctive, the Beautiful and the Squalid, sleep ye well, --inthe Mother's bosom that bore you both! This was the History of Charlotte Corday; most definite, most complete;angelic-demonic: like a Star! Adam Lux goes home, half-delirious; topour forth his Apotheosis of her, in paper and print; to propose thatshe have a statue with this inscription, Greater than Brutus. Friendsrepresent his danger; Lux is reckless; thinks it were beautiful to diewith her. Chapter 3. 4. II. In Civil War. But during these same hours, another guillotine is at work, on another:Charlotte, for the Girondins, dies at Paris to-day; Chalier, by theGirondins, dies at Lyons to-morrow. From rumbling of cannon along the streets of that City, it has cometo firing of them, to rabid fighting: Nievre-Chol and the Girondinstriumph;--behind whom there is, as everywhere, a Royalist Factionwaiting to strike in. Trouble enough at Lyons; and the dominant partycarrying it with a high hand! For indeed, the whole South is astir;incarcerating Jacobins; arming for Girondins: wherefore we have gota 'Congress of Lyons;' also a 'Revolutionary Tribunal of Lyons, 'and Anarchists shall tremble. So Chalier was soon found guilty, ofJacobinism, of murderous Plot, 'address with drawn dagger on the sixthof February last;' and, on the morrow, he also travels his final road, along the streets of Lyons, 'by the side of an ecclesiastic, with whomhe seems to speak earnestly, '--the axe now glittering high. He couldweep, in old years, this man, and 'fall on his knees on the pavement, 'blessing Heaven at sight of Federation Programs or like; then hepilgrimed to Paris, to worship Marat and the Mountain: now Marat andhe are both gone;--we said he could not end well. Jacobinism groansinwardly, at Lyons; but dare not outwardly. Chalier, when the Tribunalsentenced him, made answer: "My death will cost this City dear. " Montelimart Town is not buried under its ruins; yet Marseilles isactually marching, under order of a 'Lyons Congress;' is incarceratingPatriots; the very Royalists now shewing face. Against which a GeneralCartaux fights, though in small force; and with him an Artillery Major, of the name of--Napoleon Buonaparte. This Napoleon, to prove that theMarseillese have no chance ultimately, not only fights but writes;publishes his Supper of Beaucaire, a Dialogue which has become curious. (See Hazlitt, ii. 529-41. ) Unfortunate Cities, with their actions andtheir reactions! Violence to be paid with violence in geometrical ratio;Royalism and Anarchism both striking in;--the final net-amount of whichgeometrical series, what man shall sum? The Bar of Iron has never yet floated in Marseilles Harbour; but theBody of Rebecqui was found floating, self-drowned there. Hot Rebecquiseeing how confusion deepened, and Respectability grew poisoned withRoyalism, felt that there was no refuge for a Republican but death. Rebecqui disappeared: no one knew whither; till, one morning, they foundthe empty case or body of him risen to the top, tumbling on the saltwaves; (Barbaroux, p. 29. ) and perceived that Rebecqui had withdrawnforever. --Toulon likewise is incarcerating Patriots; sending delegatesto Congress; intriguing, in case of necessity, with the Royalists andEnglish. Montpellier, Bourdeaux, Nantes: all France, that is not underthe swoop of Austria and Cimmeria, seems rushing into madness, andsuicidal ruin. The Mountain labours; like a volcano in a burningvolcanic Land. Convention Committees, of Surety, of Salvation, are busynight and day: Convention Commissioners whirl on all highways; bearingolive-branch and sword, or now perhaps sword only. Chaumette andMunicipals come daily to the Tuileries demanding a Constitution: it issome weeks now since he resolved, in Townhall, that a Deputation 'shouldgo every day' and demand a Constitution, till one were got; (Deux Amis, x. 345. ) whereby suicidal France might rally and pacify itself; a thinginexpressibly desirable. This then is the fruit your Anti-anarchic Girondins have got fromthat Levying of War in Calvados? This fruit, we may say; and no otherwhatsoever. For indeed, before either Charlotte's or Chalier's head hadfallen, the Calvados War itself had, as it were, vanished, dreamlike, ina shriek! With 'seventy-two Departments' on one's side, one might havehoped better things. But it turns out that Respectabilities, though theywill vote, will not fight. Possession is always nine points in Law; butin Lawsuits of this kind, one may say, it is ninety-and-nine points. Mendo what they were wont to do; and have immense irresolution and inertia:they obey him who has the symbols that claim obedience. Consider what, in modern society, this one fact means: the Metropolis is with ourenemies! Metropolis, Mother-city; rightly so named: all the rest are butas her children, her nurselings. Why, there is not a leathern Diligence, with its post-bags and luggage-boots, that lumbers out from her, butis as a huge life-pulse; she is the heart of all. Cut short that oneleathern Diligence, how much is cut short!--General Wimpfen, lookingpractically into the matter, can see nothing for it but that one shouldfall back on Royalism; get into communication with Pitt! Dark innuendoeshe flings out, to that effect: whereat we Girondins start, horrorstruck. He produces as his Second in command a certain 'Ci-devant, ' one ComtePuisaye; entirely unknown to Louvet; greatly suspected by him. Few wars, accordingly, were ever levied of a more insufficient characterthan this of Calvados. He that is curious in such things may readthe details of it in the Memoirs of that same Ci-devant Puisaye, themuch-enduring man and Royalist: How our Girondin National Forces, marching off with plenty of wind-music, were drawn out about the oldChateau of Brecourt, in the wood-country near Vernon, to meet theMountain National forces advancing from Paris. How on the fifteenthafternoon of July, they did meet, --and, as it were, shrieked mutually, and took mutually to flight without loss. How Puisaye thereafter, for the Mountain Nationals fled first, and we thought ourselves thevictors, --was roused from his warm bed in the Castle of Brecourt; andhad to gallop without boots; our Nationals, in the night-watches, havingfallen unexpectedly into sauve qui peut:--and in brief the Calvados Warhad burnt priming; and the only question now was, Whitherward to vanish, in what hole to hide oneself! (Memoires de Puisaye (London, 1803), ii. 142-67. ) The National Volunteers rush homewards, faster than they came. TheSeventy-two Respectable Departments, says Meillan, 'all turned round, and forsook us, in the space of four-and-twenty hours. ' Unhappy thosewho, as at Lyons for instance, have gone too far for turning! 'Onemorning, ' we find placarded on our Intendance Mansion, the Decree ofConvention which casts us Hors la loi, into Outlawry: placarded byour Caen Magistrates;--clear hint that we also are to vanish. Vanish, indeed: but whitherward? Gorsas has friends in Rennes; he will hidethere, --unhappily will not lie hid. Guadet, Lanjuinais are on crossroads; making for Bourdeaux. To Bourdeaux! cries the general voice, ofValour alike and of Despair. Some flag of Respectability still floatsthere, or is thought to float. Thitherward therefore; each as he can! Eleven of these ill-fatedDeputies, among whom we may count, as twelfth, Friend Riouffe the Man ofLetters, do an original thing. Take the uniform of National Volunteers, and retreat southward with the Breton Battalion, as private soldiers ofthat corps. These brave Bretons had stood truer by us than any other. Nevertheless, at the end of a day or two, they also do now get dubious, self-divided; we must part from them; and, with some half-dozen asconvoy or guide, retreat by ourselves, --a solitary marching detachment, through waste regions of the West. (Louvet, pp. 101-37; Meillan, pp. 81, 241-70. ) Chapter 3. 4. III. Retreat of the Eleven. It is one of the notablest Retreats, this of the Eleven, that Historypresents: The handful of forlorn Legislators retreating there, continually, with shouldered firelock and well-filled cartridge-box, inthe yellow autumn; long hundreds of miles between them and Bourdeaux;the country all getting hostile, suspicious of the truth; simmering andbuzzing on all sides, more and more. Louvet has preserved the Itineraryof it; a piece worth all the rest he ever wrote. O virtuous Petion, with thy early-white head, O brave young Barbaroux, has it come to this? Weary ways, worn shoes, light purse;--encompassedwith perils as with a sea! Revolutionary Committees are in everyTownship; of Jacobin temper; our friends all cowed, our cause the losingone. In the Borough of Moncontour, by ill chance, it is market-day:to the gaping public such transit of a solitary Marching Detachmentis suspicious; we have need of energy, of promptitude and luck, to beallowed to march through. Hasten, ye weary pilgrims! The country isgetting up; noise of you is bruited day after day, a solitary Twelveretreating in this mysterious manner: with every new day, a wider waveof inquisitive pursuing tumult is stirred up till the whole West willbe in motion. 'Cussy is tormented with gout, Buzot is too fat formarching. ' Riouffe, blistered, bleeding, marching only on tiptoe;Barbaroux limps with sprained ancle, yet ever cheery, full of hope andvalour. Light Louvet glances hare-eyed, not hare-hearted: only virtuousPetion's serenity 'was but once seen ruffled. ' (Meillan, pp. 119-137. )They lie in straw-lofts, in woody brakes; rudest paillasse on the floorof a secret friend is luxury. They are seized in the dead of night byJacobin mayors and tap of drum; get off by firm countenance, rattle ofmuskets, and ready wit. Of Bourdeaux, through fiery La Vendee and the long geographical spacesthat remain, it were madness to think: well, if you can get to Quimperon the sea-coast, and take shipping there. Faster, ever faster!Before the end of the march, so hot has the country grown, it is foundadvisable to march all night. They do it; under the still night-canopythey plod along;--and yet behold, Rumour has outplodded them. Inthe paltry Village of Carhaix (be its thatched huts, and bottomlesspeat-bogs, long notable to the Traveller), one is astonished to findlight still glimmering: citizens are awake, with rush-lights burning, inthat nook of the terrestrial Planet; as we traverse swiftly the onepoor street, a voice is heard saying, "There they are, Les voila quipassent!" (Louvet, pp. 138-164. ) Swifter, ye doomed lame Twelve: speedere they can arm; gain the Woods of Quimper before day, and lie squattedthere! The doomed Twelve do it; though with difficulty, with loss of road, withperil, and the mistakes of a night. In Quimper are Girondin friends, whoperhaps will harbour the homeless, till a Bourdeaux ship weigh. Wayworn, heartworn, in agony of suspense, till Quimper friendship get warning, they lie there, squatted under the thick wet boscage; suspicious of theface of man. Some pity to the brave; to the unhappy! Unhappiest of allLegislators, O when ye packed your luggage, some score, or two-scoremonths ago; and mounted this or the other leathern vehicle, tobe Conscript Fathers of a regenerated France, and reap deathlesslaurels, --did ye think your journey was to lead hither? The QuimperSamaritans find them squatted; lift them up to help and comfort; willhide them in sure places. Thence let them dissipate gradually; or therethey can lie quiet, and write Memoirs, till a Bourdeaux ship sail. And thus, in Calvados all is dissipated; Romme is out of prison, meditating his Calendar; ringleaders are locked in his room. At Caenthe Corday family mourns in silence; Buzot's House is a heap of dustand demolition; and amid the rubbish sticks a Gallows, with thisinscription, Here dwelt the Traitor Buzot who conspired against theRepublic. Buzot and the other vanished Deputies are hors la loi, as wesaw; their lives free to take where they can be found. The worse faresit with the poor Arrested visible Deputies at Paris. 'Arrestment athome' threatens to become 'Confinement in the Luxembourg;' to end:where? For example, what pale-visaged thin man is this, journeyingtowards Switzerland as a Merchant of Neuchatel, whom they arrest inthe town of Moulins? To Revolutionary Committee he is suspect. ToRevolutionary Committee, on probing the matter, he is evidently: DeputyBrissot! Back to thy Arrestment, poor Brissot; or indeed to straitconfinement, --whither others are fared to follow. Rabaut has builthimself a false-partition, in a friend's house; lives, in invisibledarkness, between two walls. It will end, this same Arrestment business, in Prison, and the Revolutionary Tribunal. Nor must we forget Duperret, and the seal put on his papers by reason ofCharlotte. One Paper is there, fit to breed woe enough: A secret solemnProtest against that suprema dies of the Second of June! This SecretProtest our poor Duperret had drawn up, the same week, in all plainnessof speech; waiting the time for publishing it: to which Secret Protesthis signature, and that of other honourable Deputies not a few, standslegibly appended. And now, if the seals were once broken, theMountain still victorious? Such Protestors, your Merciers, Bailleuls, Seventy-three by the tale, what yet remains of Respectable Girondism inthe Convention, may tremble to think!--These are the fruits of levyingcivil war. Also we find, that, in these last days of July, the famed Siege of Mentzis finished; the Garrison to march out with honours of war; not to serveagainst the Coalition for a year! Lovers of the Picturesque, andGoethe standing on the Chaussee of Mentz, saw, with due interest, theProcession issuing forth, in all solemnity: 'Escorted by Prussian horse came first the French Garrison. Nothingcould look stranger than this latter: a column of Marseillese, slight, swarthy, party-coloured, in patched clothes, came tripping on;--as ifKing Edwin had opened the Dwarf Hill, and sent out his nimble Hostof Dwarfs. Next followed regular troops; serious, sullen; not as ifdowncast or ashamed. But the remarkablest appearance, which struck everyone, was that of the Chasers (Chasseurs) coming out mounted: they hadadvanced quite silent to where we stood, when their Band struck upthe Marseillaise. This Revolutionary Te-Deum has in itself somethingmournful and bodeful, however briskly played; but at present they gaveit in altogether slow time, proportionate to the creeping step they rodeat. It was piercing and fearful, and a most serious-looking thing, asthese cavaliers, long, lean men, of a certain age, with mien suitableto the music, came pacing on: singly you might have likened them to DonQuixote; in mass, they were highly dignified. 'But now a single troop became notable: that of the Commissioners orRepresentans. Merlin of Thionville, in hussar uniform, distinguishinghimself by wild beard and look, had another person in similar costume onhis left; the crowd shouted out, with rage, at sight of this latter, thename of a Jacobin Townsman and Clubbist; and shook itself to seize him. Merlin drew bridle; referred to his dignity as French Representative, tothe vengeance that should follow any injury done; he would advise everyone to compose himself, for this was not the last time they would seehim here. (Belagerung von Maintz, Goethe's Werke, xxx. 315. ) Thus rodeMerlin; threatening in defeat. But what now shall stem that tide ofPrussians setting in through the open North-East?' Lucky, if fortifiedLines of Weissembourg, and impassibilities of Vosges Mountains, confineit to French Alsace, keep it from submerging the very heart of thecountry! Furthermore, precisely in the same days, Valenciennes Siege is finished, in the North-West:--fallen, under the red hail of York! Conde fell somefortnight since. Cimmerian Coalition presses on. What seems very notabletoo, on all these captured French Towns there flies not the Royalistfleur-de-lys, in the name of a new Louis the Pretender; but the Austrianflag flies; as if Austria meant to keep them for herself! PerhapsGeneral Custines, still in Paris, can give some explanation of the fallof these strong-places? Mother Society, from tribune and gallery, growlsloud that he ought to do it;--remarks, however, in a splenetic mannerthat 'the Monsieurs of the Palais Royal' are calling, Long-life to thisGeneral. The Mother Society, purged now, by successive 'scrutinies orepurations, ' from all taint of Girondism, has become a great Authority:what we can call shield-bearer, or bottle-holder, nay call it fugleman, to the purged National Convention itself. The Jacobins Debates arereported in the Moniteur, like Parliamentary ones. Chapter 3. 4. IV. O Nature. But looking more specially into Paris City, what is this that History, on the 10th of August, Year One of Liberty, 'by old-style, year 1793, 'discerns there? Praised be the Heavens, a new Feast of Pikes! For Chaumette's 'Deputation every day' has worked out its result:a Constitution. It was one of the rapidest Constitutions ever puttogether; made, some say in eight days, by Herault Sechelles and others:probably a workmanlike, roadworthy Constitution enough;--on which point, however, we are, for some reasons, little called to form a judgment. Workmanlike or not, the Forty-four Thousand Communes of France, by overwhelming majorities, did hasten to accept it; glad of anyConstitution whatsoever. Nay Departmental Deputies have come, thevenerablest Republicans of each Department, with solemn message ofAcceptance; and now what remains but that our new Final Constitution beproclaimed, and sworn to, in Feast of Pikes? The Departmental Deputies, we say, are come some time ago;--Chaumette very anxious about them, lestGirondin Monsieurs, Agio-jobbers, or were it even Filles de joie of aGirondin temper, corrupt their morals. (Deux Amis, xi. 73. ) Tenth ofAugust, immortal Anniversary, greater almost than Bastille July, is theDay. Painter David has not been idle. Thanks to David and the French genius, there steps forth into the sunlight, this day, a Scenic Phantasmagoryunexampled:--whereof History, so occupied with Real-Phantasmagories, will say but little. For one thing, History can notice with satisfaction, on the ruins ofthe Bastille, a Statue of Nature; gigantic, spouting water from her twomammelles. Not a Dream this; but a Fact, palpable visible. There shespouts, great Nature; dim, before daybreak. But as the coming Sunruddies the East, come countless Multitudes, regulated and unregulated;come Departmental Deputies, come Mother Society and Daughters; comesNational Convention, led on by handsome Herault; soft wind-musicbreathing note of expectation. Lo, as great Sol scatters his firstfire-handful, tipping the hills and chimney-heads with gold, Herault isat great Nature's feet (she is Plaster of Paris merely); Herault lifts, in an iron saucer, water spouted from the sacred breasts; drinks ofit, with an eloquent Pagan Prayer, beginning, "O Nature!" and all theDepartmental Deputies drink, each with what best suitable ejaculation orprophetic-utterance is in him;--amid breathings, which become blasts, of wind-music; and the roar of artillery and human throats: finishingwell the first act of this solemnity. Next are processionings along the Boulevards: Deputies or Officialsbound together by long indivisible tricolor riband; general 'membersof the Sovereign' walking pellmell, with pikes, with hammers, with thetools and emblems of their crafts; among which we notice a Plough, and ancient Baucis and Philemon seated on it, drawn by their children. Many-voiced harmony and dissonance filling the air. Through TriumphalArches enough: at the basis of the first of which, we descry--whomthinkest thou?--the Heroines of the Insurrection of Women. Strong Damesof the Market, they sit there (Theroigne too ill to attend, one fears), with oak-branches, tricolor bedizenment; firm-seated on their Cannons. To whom handsome Herault, making pause of admiration, addresses soothingeloquence; whereupon they rise and fall into the march. And now mark, in the Place de la Revolution, what other August Statuemay this be; veiled in canvas, --which swiftly we shear off by pulley andcord? The Statue of Liberty! She too is of plaster, hoping to become ofmetal; stands where a Tyrant Louis Quinze once stood. 'Three thousandbirds' are let loose, into the whole world, with labels round theirneck, We are free; imitate us. Holocaust of Royalist and ci-devanttrumpery, such as one could still gather, is burnt; pontifical eloquencemust be uttered, by handsome Herault, and Pagan orisons offered up. And then forward across the River; where is new enormous Statuary;enormous plaster Mountain; Hercules-Peuple, with uplifted all-conqueringclub; 'many-headed Dragon of Girondin Federalism rising from fetidmarsh;'--needing new eloquence from Herault. To say nothing ofChamp-de-Mars, and Fatherland's Altar there; with urn of slainDefenders, Carpenter's-level of the Law; and such exploding, gesticulating and perorating, that Herault's lips must be growing white, and his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth. (Choix des Rapports, xii. 432-42. ) Towards six-o'clock let the wearied President, let Paris Patriotismgenerally sit down to what repast, and social repasts, can be had; andwith flowing tankard or light-mantling glass, usher in this New andNewest Era. In fact, is not Romme's New Calendar getting ready? On allhousetops flicker little tricolor Flags, their flagstaff a Pike andLiberty-Cap. On all house-walls, for no Patriot, not suspect, willbe behind another, there stand printed these words: Republic one andindivisible, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death. As to the New Calendar, we may say here rather than elsewhere thatspeculative men have long been struck with the inequalities andincongruities of the Old Calendar; that a New one has long been as goodas determined on. Marechal the Atheist, almost ten years ago, proposeda New Calendar, free at least from superstition: this the ParisMunicipality would now adopt, in defect of a better; at all events, letus have either this of Marechal's or a better, --the New Era being come. Petitions, more than once, have been sent to that effect; and indeed, for a year past, all Public Bodies, Journalists, and Patriots ingeneral, have dated First Year of the Republic. It is a subject notwithout difficulties. But the Convention has taken it up; and Romme, as we say, has been meditating it; not Marechal's New Calendar, buta better New one of Romme's and our own. Romme, aided by a Monge, aLagrange and others, furnishes mathematics; Fabre d'Eglantine furnishespoetic nomenclature: and so, on the 5th of October 1793, after troubleenough, they bring forth this New Republican Calendar of theirs, in acomplete state; and by Law, get it put in action. Four equal Seasons, Twelve equal Months of thirty days each: this makesthree hundred and sixty days; and five odd days remain to be disposedof. The five odd days we will make Festivals, and name the fiveSansculottides, or Days without Breeches. Festival of Genius; Festivalof Labour; of Actions; of Rewards; of Opinion: these are the fiveSansculottides. Whereby the great Circle, or Year, is made complete:solely every fourth year, whilom called Leap-year, we introduce a sixthSansculottide; and name it Festival of the Revolution. Now as to theday of commencement, which offers difficulties, is it not one of theluckiest coincidences that the Republic herself commenced on the 21st ofSeptember; close on the Vernal Equinox? Vernal Equinox, at midnightfor the meridian of Paris, in the year whilom Christian 1792, from thatmoment shall the New Era reckon itself to begin. Vendemiaire, Brumaire, Frimaire; or as one might say, in mixed English, Vintagearious, Fogarious, Frostarious: these are our three Autumn months. Nivose, Pluviose, Ventose, or say Snowous, Rainous, Windous, make our Winterseason. Germinal, Floreal, Prairial, or Buddal, Floweral, Meadowal, areour Spring season. Messidor, Thermidor, Fructidor, that is to say (dorbeing Greek for gift) Reapidor, Heatidor, Fruitidor, are RepublicanSummer. These Twelve, in a singular manner, divide the RepublicanYear. Then as to minuter subdivisions, let us venture at once on a boldstroke: adopt your decimal subdivision; and instead of world-old Week, or Se'ennight, make it a Tennight or Decade;--not without results. Thereare three Decades, then, in each of the months; which is very regular;and the Decadi, or Tenth-day, shall always be 'the Day of Rest. ' And theChristian Sabbath, in that case? Shall shift for itself! This, in brief, in this New Calendar of Romme and the Convention;calculated for the meridian of Paris, and Gospel of Jean-Jacques: notone of the least afflicting occurrences for the actual British reader ofFrench History;--confusing the soul with Messidors, Meadowals; till atlast, in self-defence, one is forced to construct some ground-scheme, or rule of Commutation from New-style to Old-style, and have it lyingby him. Such ground-scheme, almost worn out in our service, but stilllegible and printable, we shall now, in a Note, present to the reader. For the Romme Calendar, in so many Newspapers, Memoirs, Public Acts, hasstamped itself deep into that section of Time: a New Era that lasts someTwelve years and odd is not to be despised. Let the reader, therefore, with such ground-scheme, help himself, where needful, out of New-styleinto Old-style, called also 'slave-style, stile-esclave;'--whereof we, in these pages, shall as much as possible use the latter only. September 22nd of 1792 is Vendemiaire 1st of Year One, and the newmonths are all of 30 days each; therefore: To the number of the We have the number of the day in Add day in Days Vendemiaire 21 September 30 Brumaire 21 October 31 Frimaire 20 November 30 Nivose 20 December 31 Pluviose 19 January 31 Ventose 18 February 28 Germinal 20 March 31 Floreal 19 April 30 Prairial 19 May 31 Messidor 18 June 30 Thermidor 18 July 31 Fructidor 17 August 31 There are 5 Sansculottides, and in leap-year a sixth, to be added at theend of Fructidor. The New Calendar ceased on the 1st of January 1806. (See Choix desRapports, xiii. 83-99; xix. 199. ) Thus with new Feast of Pikes, and New Era or New Calendar, did Franceaccept her New Constitution: the most Democratic Constitution evercommitted to paper. How it will work in practice? Patriot Deputationsfrom time to time solicit fruition of it; that it be set a-going. Always, however, this seems questionable; for the moment, unsuitable. Till, in some weeks, Salut Public, through the organ of Saint-Just, makes report, that, in the present alarming circumstances, the state ofFrance is Revolutionary; that her 'Government must be Revolutionary tillthe Peace!' Solely as Paper, then, and as a Hope, must this poor NewConstitution exist;--in which shape we may conceive it lying; even now, with an infinity of other things, in that Limbo near the Moon. Furtherthan paper it never got, nor ever will get. Chapter 3. 4. V. Sword of Sharpness. In fact it is something quite other than paper theorems, it is iron andaudacity that France now needs. Is not La Vendee still blazing;--alas too literally; rogue Rossignolburning the very corn-mills? General Santerre could do nothing there;General Rossignol, in blind fury, often in liquor, can do less thannothing. Rebellion spreads, grows ever madder. Happily those leanQuixote-figures, whom we saw retreating out of Mentz, 'bound not toserve against the Coalition for a year, ' have got to Paris. NationalConvention packs them into post-vehicles and conveyances; sends themswiftly, by post, into La Vendee! There valiantly struggling, in obscurebattle and skirmish, under rogue Rossignol, let them, unlaurelled, savethe Republic, and 'be cut down gradually to the last man. ' (Deux Amis, xi. 147; xiii. 160-92, &c. ) Does not the Coalition, like a fire-tide, pour in; Prussia through theopened North-East; Austria, England through the North-West? GeneralHouchard prospers no better there than General Custine did: let him lookto it! Through the Eastern and the Western Pyrenees Spain has deployeditself; spreads, rustling with Bourbon banners, over the face of theSouth. Ashes and embers of confused Girondin civil war covered thatregion already. Marseilles is damped down, not quenched; to be quenchedin blood. Toulon, terrorstruck, too far gone for turning, has flungitself, ye righteous Powers, --into the hands of the English! On ToulonArsenal there flies a Flag, --nay not even the Fleur-de-lys of a LouisPretender; there flies that accursed St. George's Cross of the Englishand Admiral Hood! What remnants of sea-craft, arsenals, roperies, war-navy France had, has given itself to these enemies of human nature, 'ennemis du genre humain. ' Beleaguer it, bombard it, ye CommissionersBarras, Freron, Robespierre Junior; thou General Cartaux, GeneralDugommier; above all, thou remarkable Artillery-Major, NapoleonBuonaparte! Hood is fortifying himself, victualling himself; means, apparently, to make a new Gibraltar of it. But lo, in the Autumn night, late night, among the last of August, whatsudden red sunblaze is this that has risen over Lyons City; with a noiseto deafen the world? It is the Powder-tower of Lyons, nay the Arsenalwith four Powder-towers, which has caught fire in the Bombardment; andsprung into the air, carrying 'a hundred and seventeen houses' after it. With a light, one fancies, as of the noon sun; with a roar second onlyto the Last Trumpet! All living sleepers far and wide it has awakened. What a sight was that, which the eye of History saw, in the suddennocturnal sunblaze! The roofs of hapless Lyons, and all its domesand steeples made momentarily clear; Rhone and Saone streams flashingsuddenly visible; and height and hollow, hamlet and smoothstubblefield, and all the region round;--heights, alas, all scarped andcounterscarped, into trenches, curtains, redouts; blue Artillery-men, little Powder-devilkins, plying their hell-trade there, through the notambrosial night! Let the darkness cover it again; for it pains theeye. Of a truth, Chalier's death is costing this City dear. ConventionCommissioners, Lyons Congresses have come and gone; and action therewas and reaction; bad ever growing worse; till it has come to this:Commissioner Dubois-Crance, 'with seventy thousand men, and all theArtillery of several Provinces, ' bombarding Lyons day and night. Worse things still are in store. Famine is in Lyons, and ruin, and fire. Desperate are the sallies of the besieged; brave Precy, their NationalColonel and Commandant, doing what is in man: desperate but ineffectual. Provisions cut off; nothing entering our city but shot and shells! TheArsenal has roared aloft; the very Hospital will be battered down, andthe sick buried alive. A Black Flag hung on this latter noble Edifice, appealing to the pity of the beseigers; for though maddened, were theynot still our brethren? In their blind wrath, they took it for a flagof defiance, and aimed thitherward the more. Bad is growing ever worsehere: and how will the worse stop, till it have grown worst of all?Commissioner Dubois will listen to no pleading, to no speech, savethis only, 'We surrender at discretion. ' Lyons contains in it subduedJacobins; dominant Girondins; secret Royalists. And now, mere deafmadness and cannon-shot enveloping them, will not the desperateMunicipality fly, at last, into the arms of Royalism itself? Majesty ofSardinia was to bring help, but it failed. Emigrant Autichamp, in nameof the Two Pretender Royal Highnesses, is coming through Switzerlandwith help; coming, not yet come: Precy hoists the Fleur-de-lys! At sight of which, all true Girondins sorrowfully fling down theirarms:--Let our Tricolor brethren storm us, then, and slay us in theirwrath: with you we conquer not. The famishing women and childrenare sent forth: deaf Dubois sends them back;--rains in mere fire andmadness. Our 'redouts of cotton-bags' are taken, retaken; Precy underhis Fleur-de-lys is valiant as Despair. What will become of Lyons? It isa siege of seventy days. (Deux Amis, xi. 80-143. ) Or see, in these same weeks, far in the Western waters: breastingthrough the Bay of Biscay, a greasy dingy little Merchantship, withScotch skipper; under hatches whereof sit, disconsolate, --the lastforlorn nucleus of Girondism, the Deputies from Quimper! Several havedissipated themselves, whithersoever they could. Poor Riouffe fell intothe talons of Revolutionary Committee, and Paris Prison. The rest sithere under hatches; reverend Petion with his grey hair, angry Buzot, suspicious Louvet, brave young Barbaroux, and others. They have escapedfrom Quimper, in this sad craft; are now tacking and struggling; indanger from the waves, in danger from the English, in still worse dangerfrom the French;--banished by Heaven and Earth to the greasy belly ofthis Scotch skipper's Merchant-vessel, unfruitful Atlantic raving round. They are for Bourdeaux, if peradventure hope yet linger there. Enternot Bourdeaux, O Friends! Bloody Convention Representatives, Tallien andsuch like, with their Edicts, with their Guillotine, have arrived there;Respectability is driven under ground; Jacobinism lords it on high. From that Reole landingplace, or Beak of Ambes, as it were, Pale Death, waving his Revolutionary Sword of sharpness, waves you elsewhither! On one side or the other of that Bec d'Ambes, the Scotch Skipper withdifficulty moors, a dexterous greasy man; with difficulty lands hisGirondins;--who, after reconnoitring, must rapidly burrow in the Earth;and so, in subterranean ways, in friends' back-closets, in cellars, barn-lofts, in Caves of Saint-Emilion and Libourne, stave off cruelDeath. (Louvet, p. 180-199. ) Unhappiest of all Senators! Chapter 3. 4. VI. Risen against Tyrants. Against all which incalculable impediments, horrors and disasters, whatcan a Jacobin Convention oppose? The uncalculating Spirit of Jacobinism, and Sansculottic sans-formulistic Frenzy! Our Enemies press in on us, says Danton, but they shall not conquer us, "we will burn France toashes rather, nous brulerons la France. " Committees, of Surete or Salut, have raised themselves 'a la hauteur, to the height of circumstances. ' Let all mortals raise themselves a lahauteur. Let the Forty-four thousand Sections and their RevolutionaryCommittees stir every fibre of the Republic; and every Frenchman feelthat he is to do or die. They are the life-circulation of Jacobinism, these Sections and Committees: Danton, through the organ of Barrere andSalut Public, gets decreed, That there be in Paris, by law, two meetingsof Section weekly; also, that the Poorer Citizen be paid for attending, and have his day's-wages of Forty Sous. (Moniteur, Seance du 5Septembre, 1793. ) This is the celebrated 'Law of the Forty Sous;'fiercely stimulant to Sansculottism, to the life-circulation ofJacobinism. On the twenty-third of August, Committee of Public Salvation, as usualthrough Barrere, had promulgated, in words not unworthy of remembering, their Report, which is soon made into a Law, of Levy in Mass. 'AllFrance, and whatsoever it contains of men or resources, is put underrequisition, ' says Barrere; really in Tyrtaean words, the best we knowof his. 'The Republic is one vast besieged city. ' Two hundred and fiftyForges shall, in these days, be set up in the Luxembourg Garden, andround the outer wall of the Tuileries; to make gun-barrels; in sightof Earth and Heaven! From all hamlets, towards their Departmental Town;from all their Departmental Towns, towards the appointed Camp and seatof war, the Sons of Freedom shall march; their banner is to bear: 'LePeuple Francais debout contres les Tyrans, The French People risenagainst Tyrants. ' 'The young men shall go to the battle; it is theirtask to conquer: the married men shall forge arms, transport baggageand artillery; provide subsistence: the women shall work at soldiers'clothes, make tents; serve in the hospitals. The children shall scrapeold-linen into surgeon's-lint: the aged men shall have themselvescarried into public places; and there, by their words, excite thecourage of the young; preach hatred to Kings and unity to the Republic. '(Debats, Seance du 23 Aout 1793. ) Tyrtaean words, which tingle throughall French hearts. In this humour, then, since no other serves, will France rush againstits enemies. Headlong, reckoning no cost or consequence; heeding no lawor rule but that supreme law, Salvation of the People! The weapons areall the iron that is in France; the strength is that of all the men, women and children that are in France. There, in their two hundred andfifty shed-smithies, in Garden of Luxembourg or Tuileries, let themforge gun-barrels, in sight of Heaven and Earth. Nor with heroic daring against the Foreign foe, can black vengeanceagainst the Domestic be wanting. Life-circulation of the RevolutionaryCommittees being quickened by that Law of the Forty Sous, Deputy Merlin, not the Thionviller, whom we saw ride out of Mentz, but Merlin of Douai, named subsequently Merlin Suspect, --comes, about a week after, withhis world-famous Law of the Suspect: ordering all Sections, by theirCommittees, instantly to arrest all Persons Suspect; and explainingwithal who the Arrestable and Suspect specially are. "Are Suspect, " sayshe, "all who by their actions, by their connexions, speakings, writingshave"--in short become Suspect. (Moniteur, Seance du 17 Septembre 1793. )Nay Chaumette, illuminating the matter still further, in his MunicipalPlacards and Proclamations, will bring it about that you may almostrecognise a Suspect on the streets, and clutch him there, --off toCommittee, and Prison. Watch well your words, watch well your looks: ifSuspect of nothing else, you may grow, as came to be a saying, 'Suspectof being Suspect!' For are we not in a State of Revolution? No frightfuller Law ever ruled in a Nation of men. All Prisons andHouses of Arrest in French land are getting crowded to the ridge-tile:Forty-four thousand Committees, like as many companies of reapers orgleaners, gleaning France, are gathering their harvest, and storing itin these Houses. Harvest of Aristocrat tares! Nay, lest the Forty-fourthousand, each on its own harvest-field, prove insufficient, we are tohave an ambulant 'Revolutionary Army:' six thousand strong, under rightcaptains, this shall perambulate the country at large, and strike inwherever it finds such harvest-work slack. So have Municipality andMother Society petitioned; so has Convention decreed. (Ibid. Seances du5, 9, 11 Septembre. ) Let Aristocrats, Federalists, Monsieurs vanish, and all men tremble: 'The Soil of Liberty shall be purged, '--with avengeance! Neither hitherto has the Revolutionary Tribunal been keeping holyday. Blanchelande, for losing Saint-Domingo; 'Conspirators of Orleans, ' for'assassinating, ' for assaulting the sacred Deputy Leonard-Bourdon: thesewith many Nameless, to whom life was sweet, have died. Daily the greatGuillotine has its due. Like a black Spectre, daily at eventide, glides the Death-tumbril through the variegated throng of things. Thevariegated street shudders at it, for the moment; next moment forgetsit: The Aristocrats! They were guilty against the Republic; their death, were it only that their goods are confiscated, will be useful to theRepublic; Vive la Republique! In the last days of August, fell a notabler head: General Custine's. Custine was accused of harshness, of unskilfulness, perfidiousness;accused of many things: found guilty, we may say, of one thing, unsuccessfulness. Hearing his unexpected Sentence, 'Custine fell downbefore the Crucifix, ' silent for the space of two hours: he fared, withmoist eyes and a book of prayer, towards the Place de la Revolution;glanced upwards at the clear suspended axe; then mounted swiftly aloft, (Deux Amis, xi. 148-188. ) swiftly was struck away from the lists of theLiving. He had fought in America; he was a proud, brave man; and hisfortune led him hither. On the 2nd of this same month, at three in the morning, a vehicle rolledoff, with closed blinds, from the Temple to the Conciergerie. Within itwere two Municipals; and Marie-Antoinette, once Queen of France! Therein that Conciergerie, in ignominious dreary cell, she, cut off fromchildren, kindred, friend and hope, sits long weeks; expecting when theend will be. (See Memoires particuliers de la Captivite a la Tour duTemple, by the Duchesse d'Angouleme, Paris, 21 Janvier 1817. ) The Guillotine, we find, gets always a quicker motion, as other thingsare quickening. The Guillotine, by its speed of going, will give indexof the general velocity of the Republic. The clanking of its huge axe, rising and falling there, in horrid systole-diastole, is portion ofthe whole enormous Life-movement and pulsation of the SansculotticSystem!--'Orleans Conspirators' and Assaulters had to die, in spite ofmuch weeping and entreating; so sacred is the person of a Deputy. Yetthe sacred can become desecrated: your very Deputy is not greaterthan the Guillotine. Poor Deputy Journalist Gorsas: we saw him hide atRennes, when the Calvados War burnt priming. He stole afterwards, inAugust, to Paris; lurked several weeks about the Palais ci-devant Royal;was seen there, one day; was clutched, identified, and without ceremony, being already 'out of the Law, ' was sent to the Place de la Revolution. He died, recommending his wife and children to the pity of the Republic. It is the ninth day of October 1793. Gorsas is the first Deputy thatdies on the scaffold; he will not be the last. Ex-Mayor Bailly is in prison; Ex-Procureur Manuel. Brissot and ourpoor Arrested Girondins have become Incarcerated Indicted Girondins;universal Jacobinism clamouring for their punishment. Duperret's Sealsare broken! Those Seventy-three Secret Protesters, suddenly one day, are reported upon, are decreed accused; the Convention-doors being'previously shut, ' that none implicated might escape. They were marched, in a very rough manner, to Prison that evening. Happy those of them whochanced to be absent! Condorcet has vanished into darkness; perhaps, like Rabaut, sits between two walls, in the house of a friend. Chapter 3. 4. VII. Marie-Antoinette. On Monday the Fourteenth of October, 1793, a Cause is pending in thePalais de Justice, in the new Revolutionary Court, such as these oldstone-walls never witnessed: the Trial of Marie-Antoinette. The oncebrightest of Queens, now tarnished, defaced, forsaken, stands here atFouquier Tinville's Judgment-bar; answering for her life! The Indictmentwas delivered her last night. (Proces de la Reine, Deux Amis, xi. 251-381. ) To such changes of human fortune what words are adequate?Silence alone is adequate. There are few Printed things one meets with, of such tragic almostghastly significance as those bald Pages of the Bulletin du TribunalRevolutionnaire, which bear title, Trial of the Widow Capet. Dim, dim, as if in disastrous eclipse; like the pale kingdoms of Dis! PlutonicJudges, Plutonic Tinville; encircled, nine times, with Styx andLethe, with Fire-Phlegethon and Cocytus named of Lamentation! The verywitnesses summoned are like Ghosts: exculpatory, inculpatory, theythemselves are all hovering over death and doom; they are known, inour imagination, as the prey of the Guillotine. Tall ci-devant Countd'Estaing, anxious to shew himself Patriot, cannot escape; nor Bailly, who, when asked If he knows the Accused, answers with a reverentinclination towards her, "Ah, yes, I know Madame. " Ex-Patriots are here, sharply dealt with, as Procureur Manuel; Ex-Ministers, shorn of theirsplendour. We have cold Aristocratic impassivity, faithful to itselfeven in Tartarus; rabid stupidity, of Patriot Corporals, PatriotWasherwomen, who have much to say of Plots, Treasons, August Tenth, oldInsurrection of Women. For all now has become a crime, in her who haslost. Marie-Antoinette, in this her utter abandonment and hour of extremeneed, is not wanting to herself, the imperial woman. Her look, theysay, as that hideous Indictment was reading, continued calm; 'she wassometimes observed moving her fingers, as when one plays on the Piano. 'You discern, not without interest, across that dim RevolutionaryBulletin itself, how she bears herself queenlike. Her answers areprompt, clear, often of Laconic brevity; resolution, which has growncontemptuous without ceasing to be dignified, veils itself in calmwords. "You persist then in denial?"--"My plan is not denial: it is thetruth I have said, and I persist in that. " Scandalous Hebert hasborne his testimony as to many things: as to one thing, concerningMarie-Antoinette and her little Son, --wherewith Human Speech had betternot further be soiled. She has answered Hebert; a Juryman begs toobserve that she has not answered as to this. "I have not answered, " sheexclaims with noble emotion, "because Nature refuses to answer such acharge brought against a Mother. I appeal to all the Mothers that arehere. " Robespierre, when he heard of it, broke out into something almostlike swearing at the brutish blockheadism of this Hebert; (Vilate, Causes secretes de la Revolution de Thermidor (Paris, 1825), p. 179. ) onwhose foul head his foul lie has recoiled. At four o'clock on Wednesdaymorning, after two days and two nights of interrogating, jury-charging, and other darkening of counsel, the result comes out: Sentence of Death. "Have you anything to say?" The Accused shook her head, without speech. Night's candles are burning out; and with her too Time is finishing, and it will be Eternity and Day. This Hall of Tinville's is dark, ill-lighted except where she stands. Silently she withdraws from it, todie. Two Processions, or Royal Progresses, three-and-twenty years apart, haveoften struck us with a strange feeling of contrast. The first is of abeautiful Archduchess and Dauphiness, quitting her Mother's City, at theage of Fifteen; towards hopes such as no other Daughter of Eve then had:'On the morrow, ' says Weber an eye witness, 'the Dauphiness left Vienna. The whole City crowded out; at first with a sorrow which was silent. Sheappeared: you saw her sunk back into her carriage; her face bathed intears; hiding her eyes now with her handkerchief, now with her hands;several times putting out her head to see yet again this Palace of herFathers, whither she was to return no more. She motioned her regret, her gratitude to the good Nation, which was crowding here to bid herfarewell. Then arose not only tears; but piercing cries, on all sides. Men and women alike abandoned themselves to such expression of theirsorrow. It was an audible sound of wail, in the streets and avenues ofVienna. The last Courier that followed her disappeared, and the crowdmelted away. ' (Weber, i. 6. ) The young imperial Maiden of Fifteen has now become a worn discrownedWidow of Thirty-eight; grey before her time: this is the lastProcession: 'Few minutes after the Trial ended, the drums were beatingto arms in all Sections; at sunrise the armed force was on foot, cannonsgetting placed at the extremities of the Bridges, in the Squares, Crossways, all along from the Palais de Justice to the Place de laRevolution. By ten o'clock, numerous patrols were circulating in theStreets; thirty thousand foot and horse drawn up under arms. At eleven, Marie-Antoinette was brought out. She had on an undress of pique blanc:she was led to the place of execution, in the same manner as an ordinarycriminal; bound, on a Cart; accompanied by a Constitutional Priest inLay dress; escorted by numerous detachments of infantry and cavalry. These, and the double row of troops all along her road, she appeared toregard with indifference. On her countenance there was visible neitherabashment nor pride. To the cries of Vive la Republique and Down withTyranny, which attended her all the way, she seemed to pay no heed. Shespoke little to her Confessor. The tricolor Streamers on the housetopsoccupied her attention, in the Streets du Roule and Saint-Honore; shealso noticed the Inscriptions on the house-fronts. On reaching the Placede la Revolution, her looks turned towards the Jardin National, whilomTuileries; her face at that moment gave signs of lively emotion. Shemounted the Scaffold with courage enough; at a quarter past Twelve, her head fell; the Executioner shewed it to the people, amid universallong-continued cries of 'Vive la Republique. ' (Deux Amis, xi. 301. ) Chapter 3. 4. VIII. The Twenty-two. Whom next, O Tinville? The next are of a different colour: our poorArrested Girondin Deputies. What of them could still be laid hold of;our Vergniaud, Brissot, Fauchet, Valaze, Gensonne; the once flower ofFrench Patriotism, Twenty-two by the tale: hither, at Tinville's Bar, onward from 'safeguard of the French People, ' from confinement in theLuxembourg, imprisonment in the Conciergerie, have they now, by thecourse of things, arrived. Fouquier Tinville must give what account ofthem he can. Undoubtedly this Trial of the Girondins is the greatest that Fouquierhas yet had to do. Twenty-two, all chief Republicans, ranged in a linethere; the most eloquent in France; Lawyers too; not without friendsin the auditory. How will Tinville prove these men guilty of Royalism, Federalism, Conspiracy against the Republic? Vergniaud's eloquenceawakes once more; 'draws tears, ' they say. And Journalists report, and the Trial lengthens itself out day after day; 'threatens to becomeeternal, ' murmur many. Jacobinism and Municipality rise to the aid ofFouquier. On the 28th of the month, Hebert and others come in deputationto inform a Patriot Convention that the Revolutionary Tribunal is quite'shackled by forms of Law;' that a Patriot Jury ought to have 'the powerof cutting short, of terminer les debats, when they feel themselvesconvinced. ' Which pregnant suggestion, of cutting short, passes itself, with all despatch, into a Decree. Accordingly, at ten o'clock on the night of the 30th of October, theTwenty-two, summoned back once more, receive this information, That theJury feeling themselves convinced have cut short, have brought in theirverdict; that the Accused are found guilty, and the Sentence on one andall of them is Death with confiscation of goods. Loud natural clamour rises among the poor Girondins; tumult; which canonly be repressed by the gendarmes. Valaze stabs himself; falls downdead on the spot. The rest, amid loud clamour and confusion, are drivenback to their Conciergerie; Lasource exclaiming, "I die on the day whenthe People have lost their reason; ye will die when they recover it. "(Greek, --Plut. Opp. T. Iv. P. 310. Ed. Reiske, 1776. ) No help! Yieldingto violence, the Doomed uplift the Hymn of the Marseillese; returnsinging to their dungeon. Riouffe, who was their Prison-mate in these last days, has lovinglyrecorded what death they made. To our notions, it is not an edifyingdeath. Gay satirical Pot-pourri by Ducos; rhymed Scenes of Tragedy, wherein Barrere and Robespierre discourse with Satan; death's eve spentin 'singing' and 'sallies of gaiety, ' with 'discourses on the happinessof peoples:' these things, and the like of these, we have to accept forwhat they are worth. It is the manner in which the Girondins make theirLast Supper. Valaze, with bloody breast, sleeps cold in death; hears nottheir singing. Vergniaud has his dose of poison; but it is not enoughfor his friends, it is enough only for himself; wherefore he flingsit from him; presides at this Last Supper of the Girondins, withwild coruscations of eloquence, with song and mirth. Poor human Willstruggles to assert itself; if not in this way, then in that. (Memoiresde Riouffe in Memoires sur les Prisons, Paris, 1823, p. 48-55. ) But on the morrow morning all Paris is out; such a crowd as no man hadseen. The Death-carts, Valaze's cold corpse stretched among the yetliving Twenty-one, roll along. Bareheaded, hands bound; in theirshirt-sleeves, coat flung loosely round the neck: so fare the eloquentof France; bemurmured, beshouted. To the shouts of Vive la Republique, some of them keep answering with counter-shouts of Vive la Republique. Others, as Brissot, sit sunk in silence. At the foot of the scaffoldthey again strike up, with appropriate variations, the Hymn of theMarseillese. Such an act of music; conceive it well! The yet Livingchant there; the chorus so rapidly wearing weak! Samson's axe is rapid;one head per minute, or little less. The chorus is worn out; farewellfor evermore ye Girondins. Te-Deum Fauchet has become silent; Valaze'sdead head is lopped: the sickle of the Guillotine has reaped theGirondins all away. 'The eloquent, the young, the beautiful and brave!'exclaims Riouffe. O Death, what feast is toward in thy ghastly Halls? Nor alas, in the far Bourdeaux region, will Girondism fare better. Incaves of Saint-Emilion, in loft and cellar, the weariest months, rollon; apparel worn, purse empty; wintry November come; under Tallienand his Guillotine, all hope now gone. Danger drawing ever nigher, difficulty pressing ever straiter, they determine to separate. Notunpathetic the farewell; tall Barbaroux, cheeriest of brave men, stoopsto clasp his Louvet: "In what place soever thou findest my mother, "cries he, "try to be instead of a son to her: no resource of mine butI will share with thy Wife, should chance ever lead me where she is. "(Louvet, p. 213. ) Louvet went with Guadet, with Salles and Valady; Barbaroux with Buzotand Petion. Valady soon went southward, on a way of his own. The twofriends and Louvet had a miserable day and night; the 14th of Novembermonth, 1793. Sunk in wet, weariness and hunger, they knock, on themorrow, for help, at a friend's country-house; the fainthearted friendrefuses to admit them. They stood therefore under trees, in the pouringrain. Flying desperate, Louvet thereupon will to Paris. He sets forth, there and then, splashing the mud on each side of him, with a freshstrength gathered from fury or frenzy. He passes villages, finding 'thesentry asleep in his box in the thick rain;' he is gone, before theman can call after him. He bilks Revolutionary Committees; rides incarriers' carts, covered carts and open; lies hidden in one, underknapsacks and cloaks of soldiers' wives on the Street of Orleans, while men search for him: has hairbreadth escapes that would fillthree romances: finally he gets to Paris to his fair Helpmate; gets toSwitzerland, and waits better days. Poor Guadet and Salles were both taken, ere long; they died by theGuillotine in Bourdeaux; drums beating to drown their voice. Valady alsois caught, and guillotined. Barbaroux and his two comrades weathered itlonger, into the summer of 1794; but not long enough. One July morning, changing their hiding place, as they have often to do, 'about a leaguefrom Saint-Emilion, they observe a great crowd of country-people;'doubtless Jacobins come to take them? Barbaroux draws a pistol, shootshimself dead. Alas, and it was not Jacobins; it was harmless villagersgoing to a village wake. Two days afterwards, Buzot and Petion werefound in a Cornfield, their bodies half-eaten with dogs. (RecherchesHistoriques sur les Girondins in Memoires de Buzot, p. 107. ) Such was the end of Girondism. They arose to regenerate France, thesemen; and have accomplished this. Alas, whatever quarrel we had withthem, has not their cruel fate abolished it? Pity only survives. So manyexcellent souls of heroes sent down to Hades; they themselves given asa prey of dogs and all manner of birds! But, here too, the will of theSupreme Power was accomplished. As Vergniaud said: 'The Revolution, likeSaturn, is devouring its own children. ' BOOK 3. V. TERROR THE ORDER OF THE DAY Chapter 3. 5. I. Rushing down. We are now, therefore, got to that black precipitous Abyss; whither allthings have long been tending; where, having now arrived on the giddyverge, they hurl down, in confused ruin; headlong, pellmell, down, down;--till Sansculottism have consummated itself; and in this wondrousFrench Revolution, as in a Doomsday, a World have been rapidly, if notborn again, yet destroyed and engulphed. Terror has long been terrible:but to the actors themselves it has now become manifest that theirappointed course is one of Terror; and they say, Be it so. "Que laTerreur soit a l'ordre du jour. " So many centuries, say only from Hugh Capet downwards, had been addingtogether, century transmitting it with increase to century, the sum ofWickedness, of Falsehood, Oppression of man by man. Kings weresinners, and Priests were, and People. Open-Scoundrels rode triumphant, bediademed, becoronetted, bemitred; or the still fataller speciesof Secret-Scoundrels, in their fair-sounding formulas, speciosities, respectabilities, hollow within: the race of Quacks was grown manyas the sands of the sea. Till at length such a sum of Quackery hadaccumulated itself as, in brief, the Earth and the Heavens were wearyof. Slow seemed the Day of Settlement: coming on, all imperceptible, across the bluster and fanfaronade of Courtierisms, Conquering-Heroisms, Most-Christian Grand Monarque-isms. Well-beloved Pompadourisms: yetbehold it was always coming; behold it has come, suddenly, unlooked forby any man! The harvest of long centuries was ripening and whitening sorapidly of late; and now it is grown white, and is reaped rapidly, as itwere, in one day. Reaped, in this Reign of Terror; and carried home, toHades and the Pit!--Unhappy Sons of Adam: it is ever so; and neverdo they know it, nor will they know it. With cheerfully smoothedcountenances, day after day, and generation after generation, they, calling cheerfully to one another, "Well-speed-ye, " are at work, sowingthe wind. And yet, as God lives, they shall reap the whirlwind: no otherthing, we say, is possible, --since God is a Truth and His World is aTruth. History, however, in dealing with this Reign of Terror, has had her owndifficulties. While the Phenomenon continued in its primary state, asmere 'Horrors of the French Revolution, ' there was abundance to be saidand shrieked. With and also without profit. Heaven knows there wereterrors and horrors enough: yet that was not all the Phenomenon; nay, more properly, that was not the Phenomenon at all, but rather was theshadow of it, the negative part of it. And now, in a new stage of thebusiness, when History, ceasing to shriek, would try rather to includeunder her old Forms of speech or speculation this new amazing Thing;that so some accredited scientific Law of Nature might suffice forthe unexpected Product of Nature, and History might get to speak of itarticulately, and draw inferences and profit from it; in this newstage, History, we must say, babbles and flounders perhaps in a stillpainfuller manner. Take, for example, the latest Form of speech wehave seen propounded on the subject as adequate to it, almost in thesemonths, by our worthy M. Roux, in his Histoire Parlementaire. The latestand the strangest: that the French Revolution was a dead-lift effort, after eighteen hundred years of preparation, to realise--the ChristianReligion! (Hist. Parl. Introd. , i. 1 et seqq. ) Unity, Indivisibility, Brotherhood or Death did indeed stand printed on all Houses of theLiving; also, on Cemeteries, or Houses of the Dead, stood printed, byorder of Procureur Chaumette, Here is eternal Sleep: (Deux Amis, xii. 78. ) but a Christian Religion realised by the Guillotine andDeath-Eternal, 'is suspect to me, ' as Robespierre was wont to say, 'm'est suspecte. ' Alas, no, M. Roux! A Gospel of Brotherhood, not according to any of theFour old Evangelists, and calling on men to repent, and amend each hisown wicked existence, that they might be saved; but a Gospel rather, aswe often hint, according to a new Fifth Evangelist Jean-Jacques, callingon men to amend each the whole world's wicked existence, and be savedby making the Constitution. A thing different and distant toto coelo, asthey say: the whole breadth of the sky, and further if possible!--It isthus, however, that History, and indeed all human Speech and Reason doesyet, what Father Adam began life by doing: strive to name the new Thingsit sees of Nature's producing, --often helplessly enough. But what if History were to admit, for once, that all the Names andTheorems yet known to her fall short? That this grand Product of Naturewas even grand, and new, in that it came not to range itself under oldrecorded Laws-of-Nature at all; but to disclose new ones? In that case, History renouncing the pretention to name it at present, will lookhonestly at it, and name what she can of it! Any approximation to theright Name has value: were the right name itself once here, the Thing isknown thenceforth; the Thing is then ours, and can be dealt with. Now surely not realization, of Christianity, or of aught earthly, do wediscern in this Reign of Terror, in this French Revolution of whichit is the consummating. Destruction rather we discern--of all that wasdestructible. It is as if Twenty-five millions, risen at length intothe Pythian mood, had stood up simultaneously to say, with a sound whichgoes through far lands and times, that this Untruth of an Existence hadbecome insupportable. O ye Hypocrisies and Speciosities, Royalmantles, Cardinal plushcloaks, ye Credos, Formulas, Respectabilities, fair-painted Sepulchres full of dead men's bones, --behold, ye appear tous to be altogether a Lie. Yet our Life is not a Lie; yet our Hungerand Misery is not a Lie! Behold we lift up, one and all, our Twenty-fivemillion right-hands; and take the Heavens, and the Earth and also thePit of Tophet to witness, that either ye shall be abolished, or else weshall be abolished! No inconsiderable Oath, truly; forming, as has been often said, the mostremarkable transaction in these last thousand years. Wherefrom likewisethere follow, and will follow, results. The fulfilment of this Oath;that is to say, the black desperate battle of Men against their wholeCondition and Environment, --a battle, alas, withal, against the Sinand Darkness that was in themselves as in others: this is the Reignof Terror. Transcendental despair was the purport of it, though notconsciously so. False hopes, of Fraternity, Political Millennium, andwhat not, we have always seen: but the unseen heart of the whole, thetranscendental despair, was not false; neither has it been of no effect. Despair, pushed far enough, completes the circle, so to speak; andbecomes a kind of genuine productive hope again. Doctrine of Fraternity, out of old Catholicism, does, it is true, verystrangely in the vehicle of a Jean-Jacques Evangel, suddenly plump downout of its cloud-firmament; and from a theorem determine to make itselfa practice. But just so do all creeds, intentions, customs, knowledges, thoughts and things, which the French have, suddenly plump down;Catholicism, Classicism, Sentimentalism, Cannibalism: all isms that makeup Man in France, are rushing and roaring in that gulf; and the theoremhas become a practice, and whatsoever cannot swim sinks. Not EvangelistJean-Jacques alone; there is not a Village Schoolmaster but hascontributed his quota: do we not 'thou' one another, according to theFree Peoples of Antiquity? The French Patriot, in red phrygian nightcapof Liberty, christens his poor little red infant Cato, --Censor, orelse of Utica. Gracchus has become Baboeuf and edits Newspapers;Mutius Scaevola, Cordwainer of that ilk, presides in the SectionMutius-Scaevola: and in brief, there is a world wholly jumbling itself, to try what will swim! Wherefore we will, at all events, call this Reign of Terror a verystrange one. Dominant Sansculottism makes, as it were, free arena; oneof the strangest temporary states Humanity was ever seen in. A nation ofmen, full of wants and void of habits! The old habits are gone to wreckbecause they were old: men, driven forward by Necessity and fiercePythian Madness, have, on the spur of the instant, to devise for thewant the way of satisfying it. The wonted tumbles down; by imitation, by invention, the Unwonted hastily builds itself up. What the FrenchNational head has in it comes out: if not a great result, surely one ofthe strangest. Neither shall the reader fancy that it was all blank, this Reign ofTerror: far from it. How many hammermen and squaremen, bakers andbrewers, washers and wringers, over this France, must ply their olddaily work, let the Government be one of Terror or one of Joy! In thisParis there are Twenty-three Theatres nightly; some count as manyas Sixty Places of Dancing. (Mercier. Ii. 124. ) The Playwrightmanufactures: pieces of a strictly Republican character. Ever freshNovelgarbage, as of old, fodders the Circulating Libraries. (Moniteur ofthese months, passim. ) The 'Cesspool of Agio, ' now in the time of PaperMoney, works with a vivacity unexampled, unimagined; exhales from itself'sudden fortunes, ' like Alladin-Palaces: really a kind of miraculousFata-Morganas, since you can live in them, for a time. Terror is as asable ground, on which the most variegated of scenes paints itself. In startling transitions, in colours all intensated, the sublime, theludicrous, the horrible succeed one another; or rather, in crowdingtumult, accompany one another. Here, accordingly, if anywhere, the 'hundred tongues, ' which the oldPoets often clamour for, were of supreme service! In defect of any suchorgan on our part, let the Reader stir up his own imaginative organ: letus snatch for him this or the other significant glimpse of things, inthe fittest sequence we can. Chapter 3. 5. II. Death. In the early days of November, there is one transient glimpse of thingsthat is to be noted: the last transit to his long home of Philipped'Orleans Egalite. Philippe was 'decreed accused, ' along with theGirondins, much to his and their surprise; but not tried along withthem. They are doomed and dead, some three days, when Philippe, afterhis long half-year of durance at Marseilles, arrives in Paris. It is, aswe calculate, the third of November 1793. On which same day, two notable Female Prisoners are also put in wardthere: Dame Dubarry and Josephine Beauharnais! Dame whilom CountessDubarry, Unfortunate-female, had returned from London; they snatchedher, not only as Ex-harlot of a whilom Majesty, and therefore suspect;but as having 'furnished the Emigrants with money. ' Contemporaneouslywith whom, there comes the wife of Beauharnais, soon to be the widow:she that is Josephine Tascher Beauharnais; that shall be JosephineEmpress Buonaparte, for a black Divineress of the Tropics prophesiedlong since that she should be a Queen and more. Likewise, in the samehours, poor Adam Lux, nigh turned in the head, who, according to Foster, 'has taken no food these three weeks, ' marches to the Guillotine for hisPamphlet on Charlotte Corday: he 'sprang to the scaffold;' said he'died for her with great joy. ' Amid such fellow-travellers does Philippearrive. For, be the month named Brumaire year 2 of Liberty, or Novemberyear 1793 of Slavery, the Guillotine goes always, Guillotine vatoujours. Enough, Philippe's indictment is soon drawn, his jury soon convinced. Hefinds himself made guilty of Royalism, Conspiracy and much else; nay, it is a guilt in him that he voted Louis's Death, though he answers, "Ivoted in my soul and conscience. " The doom he finds is death forthwith;this present sixth dim day of November is the last day that Philippeis to see. Philippe, says Montgaillard, thereupon called for breakfast:sufficiency of 'oysters, two cutlets, best part of an excellent bottleof claret;' and consumed the same with apparent relish. A RevolutionaryJudge, or some official Convention Emissary, then arrived, to signifythat he might still do the State some service by revealing the truthabout a plot or two. Philippe answered that, on him, in the pass thingshad come to, the State had, he thought, small claim; that nevertheless, in the interest of Liberty, he, having still some leisure on his hands, was willing, were a reasonable question asked him, to give reasonableanswer. And so, says Montgaillard, he lent his elbow on themantel-piece, and conversed in an under-tone, with great seemingcomposure; till the leisure was done, or the Emissary went his ways. At the door of the Conciergerie, Philippe's attitude was erect and easy, almost commanding. It is five years, all but a few days, since Philippe, within these same stone walls, stood up with an air of graciosity, andasked King Louis, "Whether it was a Royal Session, then, or a Bed ofJustice?" O Heaven!--Three poor blackguards were to ride and die withhim: some say, they objected to such company, and had to be flung in, neck and heels; (Foster, ii. 628; Montgaillard, iv. 141-57. ) but itseems not true. Objecting or not objecting, the gallows-vehicle getsunder way. Philippe's dress is remarked for its elegance; greenfrock, waistcoat of white pique, yellow buckskins, boots clear as Warren:his air, as before, entirely composed, impassive, not to say easyand Brummellean-polite. Through street after street; slowly, amidexecrations;--past the Palais Egalite whilom Palais-Royal! The cruelPopulace stopped him there, some minutes: Dame de Buffon, it is said, looked out on him, in Jezebel head-tire; along the ashlar Wall, thereran these words in huge tricolor print, REPUBLIC ONE AND INDIVISIBLE;LIBERTY, EQUALITY, FRATERNITY OR DEATH: National Property. Philippe'seyes flashed hellfire, one instant; but the next instant it was gone, and he sat impassive, Brummellean-polite. On the scaffold, Samson wasfor drawing of his boots: "tush, " said Philippe, "they will come betteroff after; let us have done, depechons-nous!" So Philippe was not without virtue, then? God forbid that there shouldbe any living man without it! He had the virtue to keep living forfive-and-forty years;--other virtues perhaps more than we know of. Probably no mortal ever had such things recorded of him: such facts, andalso such lies. For he was a Jacobin Prince of the Blood; consider whata combination! Also, unlike any Nero, any Borgia, he lived in the Age ofPamphlets. Enough for us: Chaos has reabsorbed him; may it late or neverbear his like again!--Brave young Orleans Egalite, deprived of all, onlynot deprived of himself, is gone to Coire in the Grisons, under the nameof Corby, to teach Mathematics. The Egalite Family is at the darkestdepths of the Nadir. A far nobler Victim follows; one who will claim remembrance from severalcenturies: Jeanne-Marie Phlipon, the Wife of Roland. Queenly, sublimein her uncomplaining sorrow, seemed she to Riouffe in her Prison. 'Something more than is usually found in the looks of women painteditself, ' says Riouffe, (Memoires, Sur les Prisons, i. , pp. 55-7. ) 'inthose large black eyes of hers, full of expression and sweetness. Shespoke to me often, at the Grate: we were all attentive round her, ina sort of admiration and astonishment; she expressed herself with apurity, with a harmony and prosody that made her language like music, ofwhich the ear could never have enough. Her conversation was serious, not cold; coming from the mouth of a beautiful woman, it was frank andcourageous as that of a great men. ' 'And yet her maid said: "Before you, she collects her strength; but in her own room, she will sit three hourssometimes, leaning on the window, and weeping. "' She had been in Prison, liberated once, but recaptured the same hour, ever since the first ofJune: in agitation and uncertainty; which has gradually settled downinto the last stern certainty, that of death. In the Abbaye Prison, sheoccupied Charlotte Corday's apartment. Here in the Conciergerie, shespeaks with Riouffe, with Ex-Minister Claviere; calls the beheadedTwenty-two "Nos amis, our Friends, "--whom we are soon to follow. Duringthese five months, those Memoirs of hers were written, which all theworld still reads. But now, on the 8th of November, 'clad in white, ' says Riouffe, 'withher long black hair hanging down to her girdle, ' she is gone to theJudgment Bar. She returned with a quick step; lifted her finger, tosignify to us that she was doomed: her eyes seemed to have been wet. Fouquier-Tinville's questions had been 'brutal;' offended female honourflung them back on him, with scorn, not without tears. And now, shortpreparation soon done, she shall go her last road. There went with hera certain Lamarche, 'Director of Assignat printing;' whose dejection sheendeavoured to cheer. Arrived at the foot of the scaffold, she asked forpen and paper, "to write the strange thoughts that were rising in her;"(Memoires de Madame Roland introd. , i. 68. ) a remarkable request;which was refused. Looking at the Statue of Liberty which stands there, she says bitterly: "O Liberty, what things are done in thy name!" ForLamarche's sake, she will die first; shew him how easy it is to die:"Contrary to the order" said Samson. --"Pshaw, you cannot refuse the lastrequest of a Lady;" and Samson yielded. Noble white Vision, with its high queenly face, its soft proud eyes, long black hair flowing down to the girdle; and as brave a heart as everbeat in woman's bosom! Like a white Grecian Statue, serenely complete, she shines in that black wreck of things;--long memorable. Honour togreat Nature who, in Paris City, in the Era of Noble-Sentiment andPompadourism, can make a Jeanne Phlipon, and nourish her to clearperennial Womanhood, though but on Logics, Encyclopedies, and the Gospelaccording to Jean-Jacques! Biography will long remember that trait ofasking for a pen "to write the strange thoughts that were rising inher. " It is as a little light-beam, shedding softness, and a kindof sacredness, over all that preceded: so in her too there was anUnnameable; she too was a Daughter of the Infinite; there were mysterieswhich Philosophism had not dreamt of!--She left long written counsels toher little Girl; she said her Husband would not survive her. Still crueller was the fate of poor Bailly, First National President, First Mayor of Paris: doomed now for Royalism, Fayettism; for thatRed-Flag Business of the Champ-de-Mars;--one may say in general, forleaving his Astronomy to meddle with Revolution. It is the 10th ofNovember 1793, a cold bitter drizzling rain, as poor Bailly is ledthrough the streets; howling Populace covering him with curses, withmud; waving over his face a burning or smoking mockery of a Red Flag. Silent, unpitied, sits the innocent old man. Slow faring throughthe sleety drizzle, they have got to the Champ-de-Mars: Not there!vociferates the cursing Populace; Such blood ought not to stain an Altarof the Fatherland; not there; but on that dungheap by the River-side!So vociferates the cursing Populace; Officiality gives ear to them. The Guillotine is taken down, though with hands numbed by the sleetydrizzle; is carried to the River-side, is there set up again, with slownumbness; pulse after pulse still counting itself out in the old man'sweary heart. For hours long; amid curses and bitter frost-rain! "Bailly, thou tremblest, " said one. "Mon ami, it is for cold, " said Bailly, "c'est de froid. " Crueller end had no mortal. (Vie de Bailly inMemoires, i. , p. 29. ) Some days afterwards, Roland hearing the news of what happened on the8th, embraces his kind Friends at Rouen, leaves their kind house whichhad given him refuge; goes forth, with farewell too sad for tears. Onthe morrow morning, 16th of the month, 'some four leagues from Rouen, Paris-ward, near Bourg-Baudoin, in M. Normand's Avenue, ' there is seensitting leant against a tree, the figure of rigorous wrinkled man; stiffnow in the rigour of death; a cane-sword run through his heart; and athis feet this writing: 'Whoever thou art that findest me lying, respectmy remains: they are those of a man who consecrated all his life tobeing useful; and who has died as he lived, virtuous and honest. ' 'Notfear, but indignation, made me quit my retreat, on learning that my Wifehad been murdered. I wished not to remain longer on an Earth pollutedwith crimes. ' (Memoires de Madame Roland introd. , i. 88. ) Barnave's appearance at the Revolutionary Tribunal was of the bravest;but it could not stead him. They have sent for him from Grenoble; to paythe common smart, Vain is eloquence, forensic or other, against the dumbClotho-shears of Tinville. He is still but two-and-thirty, this Barnave, and has known such changes. Short while ago, we saw him at the top ofFortune's Wheel, his word a law to all Patriots: and now surely he isat the bottom of the Wheel; in stormful altercation with a TinvilleTribunal, which is dooming him to die! (Foster, ii. 629. ) And Petion, once also of the Extreme Left, and named Petion Virtue, where is he?Civilly dead; in the Caves of Saint-Emilion; to be devoured of dogs. AndRobespierre, who rode along with him on the shoulders of the people, isin Committee of Salut; civilly alive: not to live always. So giddy-swiftwhirls and spins this immeasurable tormentum of a Revolution;wild-booming; not to be followed by the eye. Barnave, on the Scaffold, stamped his foot; and looking upwards was heard to ejaculate, "This thenis my reward?" Deputy Ex-Procureur Manuel is already gone; and Deputy Osselin, famedalso in August and September, is about to go: and Rabaut, discoveredtreacherously between his two walls, and the Brother of Rabaut. NationalDeputies not a few! And Generals: the memory of General Custine cannotbe defended by his Son; his Son is already guillotined. Custine theEx-Noble was replaced by Houchard the Plebeian: he too could not prosperin the North; for him too there was no mercy; he has perished in thePlace de la Revolution, after attempting suicide in Prison. And GeneralsBiron, Beauharnais, Brunet, whatsoever General prospers not; tough oldLuckner, with his eyes grown rheumy; Alsatian Westermann, valiant anddiligent in La Vendee: none of them can, as the Psalmist sings, his soulfrom death deliver. How busy are the Revolutionary Committees; Sections with their FortyHalfpence a-day! Arrestment on arrestment falls quick, continual;followed by death. Ex-Minister Claviere has killed himself in Prison. Ex-Minister Lebrun, seized in a hayloft, under the disguise of aworking man, is instantly conducted to death. (Moniteur, 11 Decembre, 30 Decembre, 1793; Louvet, p. 287. ) Nay, withal, is it not what Barrerecalls 'coining money on the Place de la Revolution?' For always the'property of the guilty, if property he have, ' is confiscated. To avoidaccidents, we even make a Law that suicide shall not defraud us; that acriminal who kills himself does not the less incur forfeiture of goods. Let the guilty tremble, therefore, and the suspect, and the rich, and ina word all manner of culottic men! Luxembourg Palace, once Monsieur's, has become a huge loathsome Prison; Chantilly Palace too, onceConde's:--and their Landlords are at Blankenberg, on the wrong sideof the Rhine. In Paris are now some Twelve Prisons; in France someForty-four Thousand: thitherward, thick as brown leaves in Autumn, rustle and travel the suspect; shaken down by Revolutionary Committees, they are swept thitherward, as into their storehouse, --to be consumed bySamson and Tinville. 'The Guillotine goes not ill, ne va pas mal. ' Chapter 3. 5. III. Destruction. The suspect may well tremble; but how much more the open rebels;--theGirondin Cities of the South! Revolutionary Army is gone forth, underRonsin the Playwright; six thousand strong; in 'red nightcap, intricolor waistcoat, in black-shag trousers, black-shag spencer, withenormous moustachioes, enormous sabre, --in carmagnole complete;' (SeeLouvet, p. 301. ) and has portable guillotines. Representative Carrierhas got to Nantes, by the edge of blazing La Vendee, which Rossignolhas literally set on fire: Carrier will try what captives you make, whataccomplices they have, Royalist or Girondin: his guillotine goes always, va toujours; and his wool-capped 'Company of Marat. ' Little children areguillotined, and aged men. Swift as the machine is, it will not serve;the Headsman and all his valets sink, worn down with work; declare thatthe human muscles can no more. (Deux Amis, xii. 249-51. ) Whereupon youmust try fusillading; to which perhaps still frightfuller methods maysucceed. In Brest, to like purpose, rules Jean-Bon Saint-Andre; with an Armyof Red Nightcaps. In Bourdeaux rules Tallien, with his Isabeau andhenchmen: Guadets, Cussys, Salleses, may fall; the bloody Pike andNightcap bearing supreme sway; the Guillotine coining money. Bristlyfox-haired Tallien, once Able Editor, still young in years, is nowbecome most gloomy, potent; a Pluto on Earth, and has the keys ofTartarus. One remarks, however, that a certain Senhorina Cabarus, orcall her rather Senhora and wedded not yet widowed Dame de Fontenai, brown beautiful woman, daughter of Cabarus the Spanish merchant, --hassoftened the red bristly countenance; pleading for herself and friends;and prevailing. The keys of Tartarus, or any kind of power, aresomething to a woman; gloomy Pluto himself is not insensible to love. Like a new Proserpine, she, by this red gloomy Dis, is gathered; and, they say, softens his stone heart a little. Maignet, at Orange in the South; Lebon, at Arras in the North, become world's wonders. Jacobin Popular Tribunal, with its NationalRepresentative, perhaps where Girondin Popular Tribunal had latelybeen, rises here and rises there; wheresoever needed. Fouches, Maignets, Barrases, Frerons scour the Southern Departments; like reapers, withtheir guillotine-sickle. Many are the labourers, great is the harvest. By the hundred and the thousand, men's lives are cropt; cast like brandsinto the burning. Marseilles is taken, and put under martial law: lo, at Marseilles, whatone besmutted red-bearded corn-ear is this which they cut;--onegross Man, we mean, with copper-studded face; plenteous beard, orbeard-stubble, of a tile-colour? By Nemesis and the Fatal Sisters, itis Jourdan Coupe-tete! Him they have clutched, in these martial-lawdistricts; him too, with their 'national razor, ' their rasoir national, they sternly shave away. Low now is Jourdan the Headsman's ownhead;--low as Deshuttes's and Varigny's, which he sent on pikes, in theInsurrection of Women! No more shall he, as a copper Portent, be seengyrating through the Cities of the South; no more sit judging, withpipes and brandy, in the Ice-tower of Avignon. The all-hiding Earth hasreceived him, the bloated Tilebeard: may we never look upon his likeagain!--Jourdan one names; the other Hundreds are not named. Alas, they, like confused faggots, lie massed together for us; counted by thecartload: and yet not an individual faggot-twig of them but had a Lifeand History; and was cut, not without pangs as when a Kaiser dies! Least of all cities can Lyons escape. Lyons, which we saw in dreadsunblaze, that Autumn night when the Powder-tower sprang aloft, wasclearly verging towards a sad end. Inevitable: what could desperatevalour and Precy do; Dubois-Crance, deaf as Destiny, stern as Doom, capturing their 'redouts of cotton-bags;' hemming them in, ever closer, with his Artillery-lava? Never would that Ci-devant d'Autichamp arrive;never any help from Blankenberg. The Lyons Jacobins were hidden incellars; the Girondin Municipality waxed pale, in famine, treason andred fire. Precy drew his sword, and some Fifteen Hundred with him;sprang to saddle, to cut their way to Switzerland. They cut fiercely;and were fiercely cut, and cut down; not hundreds, hardly units ofthem ever saw Switzerland. (Deux Amis, xi. 145. ) Lyons, on the 9th ofOctober, surrenders at discretion; it is become a devoted Town. AbbeLamourette, now Bishop Lamourette, whilom Legislator, he of the oldBaiser-l'Amourette or Delilah-Kiss, is seized here, is sent to Paris tobe guillotined: 'he made the sign of the cross, ' they say whenTinville intimated his death-sentence to him; and died as an eloquentConstitutional Bishop. But wo now to all Bishops, Priests, Aristocratsand Federalists that are in Lyons! The manes of Chalier are to beappeased; the Republic, maddened to the Sibylline pitch, has bared herright arm. Behold! Representative Fouche, it is Fouche of Nantes, a nameto become well known; he with a Patriot company goes duly, in wondrousProcession, to raise the corpse of Chalier. An Ass, housed in Priest'scloak, with a mitre on its head, and trailing the Mass-Books, some saythe very Bible, at its tail, paces through Lyons streets; escorted bymultitudinous Patriotism, by clangour as of the Pit; towards the graveof Martyr Chalier. The body is dug up and burnt: the ashes are collectedin an Urn; to be worshipped of Paris Patriotism. The Holy Books werepart of the funeral pile; their ashes are scattered to the wind. Amid cries of "Vengeance! Vengeance!"--which, writes Fouche, shall besatisfied. (Moniteur (du 17 Novembre 1793), &c. ) Lyons in fact is a Town to be abolished; not Lyons henceforth but'Commune Affranchie, Township Freed;' the very name of it shall perish. It is to be razed, this once great City, if Jacobinism prophesy right;and a Pillar to be erected on the ruins, with this Inscription, Lyonsrebelled against the Republic; Lyons is no more. Fouche, Couthon, Collot, Convention Representatives succeed one another: there is workfor the hangman; work for the hammerman, not in building. The veryHouses of Aristocrats, we say, are doomed. Paralytic Couthon, borne ina chair, taps on the wall, with emblematic mallet, saying, "La Loi tefrappe, The Law strikes thee;" masons, with wedge and crowbar, begindemolition. Crash of downfall, dim ruin and dust-clouds fly in thewinter wind. Had Lyons been of soft stuff, it had all vanished in thoseweeks, and the Jacobin prophecy had been fulfilled. But Towns are notbuilt of soap-froth; Lyons Town is built of stone. Lyons, though itrebelled against the Republic, is to this day. Neither have the Lyons Girondins all one neck, that you could despatchit at one swoop. Revolutionary Tribunal here, and Military Commission, guillotining, fusillading, do what they can: the kennels of the Placedes Terreaux run red; mangled corpses roll down the Rhone. Collotd'Herbois, they say, was once hissed on the Lyons stage: but with whatsibilation, of world-catcall or hoarse Tartarean Trumpet, will ye hisshim now, in this his new character of Convention Representative, --not tobe repeated! Two hundred and nine men are marched forth over the River, to be shot in mass, by musket and cannon, in the Promenade of theBrotteaux. It is the second of such scenes; the first was of someSeventy. The corpses of the first were flung into the Rhone, but theRhone stranded some; so these now, of the second lot, are to be buriedon land. Their one long grave is dug; they stand ranked, by the loosemould-ridge; the younger of them singing the Marseillaise. JacobinNational Guards give fire; but have again to give fire, and again; andto take the bayonet and the spade, for though the doomed all fall, theydo not all die;--and it becomes a butchery too horrible for speech. Sothat the very Nationals, as they fire, turn away their faces. Collot, snatching the musket from one such National, and levelling it withunmoved countenance, says "It is thus a Republican ought to fire. " This is the second Fusillade, and happily the last: it is found toohideous; even inconvenient. They were Two hundred and nine marched out;one escaped at the end of the Bridge: yet behold, when you count thecorpses, they are Two hundred and ten. Rede us this riddle, O Collot?After long guessing, it is called to mind that two individuals, herein the Brotteaux ground, did attempt to leave the rank, protestingwith agony that they were not condemned men, that they were PoliceCommissaries: which two we repulsed, and disbelieved, and shot withthe rest! (Deux Amis, xii. 251-62. ) Such is the vengeance of an enragedRepublic. Surely this, according to Barrere's phrase, is Justice 'underrough forms, sous des formes acerbes. ' But the Republic, as Fouche says, must "march to Liberty over corpses. " Or again as Barrere has it: "Nonebut the dead do not come back, Il n'y a que les morts qui ne reviennentpas. " Terror hovers far and wide: 'The Guillotine goes not ill. ' But before quitting those Southern regions, over which History can castonly glances from aloft, she will alight for a moment, and look fixedlyat one point: the Siege of Toulon. Much battering and bombarding, heating of balls in furnaces or farm-houses, serving of artillery welland ill, attacking of Ollioules Passes, Forts Malbosquet, there hasbeen: as yet to small purpose. We have had General Cartaux here, awhilom Painter elevated in the troubles of Marseilles; General Doppet, a whilom Medical man elevated in the troubles of Piemont, who, underCrance, took Lyons, but cannot take Toulon. Finally we have GeneralDugommier, a pupil of Washington. Convention Representans also we havehad; Barrases, Salicettis, Robespierres the Younger:--also an ArtilleryChef de brigade, of extreme diligence, who often takes his nap of sleepamong the guns; a short taciturn, olive-complexioned young man, notunknown to us, by name Buonaparte: one of the best Artillery-officersyet met with. And still Toulon is not taken. It is the fourth month now;December, in slave-style; Frostarious or Frimaire, in new-style: andstill their cursed Red-Blue Flag flies there. They are provisioned fromthe Sea; they have seized all heights, felling wood, and fortifyingthemselves; like the coney, they have built their nest in the rocks. Meanwhile, Frostarious is not yet become Snowous or Nivose, when aCouncil of War is called; Instructions have just arrived from Governmentand Salut Public. Carnot, in Salut Public, has sent us a plan of siege:on which plan General Dugommier has this criticism to make, CommissionerSalicetti has that; and criticisms and plans are very various; whenthat young Artillery Officer ventures to speak; the same whom we sawsnatching sleep among the guns, who has emerged several times in thisHistory, --the name of him Napoleon Buonaparte. It is his humble opinion, for he has been gliding about with spy-glasses, with thoughts, That acertain Fort l'Eguillette can be clutched, as with lion-spring, on thesudden; wherefrom, were it once ours, the very heart of Toulon might bebattered, the English Lines were, so to speak, turned inside out, andHood and our Natural Enemies must next day either put to sea, or beburnt to ashes. Commissioners arch their eyebrows, with negatory sniff:who is this young gentleman with more wit than we all? Brave veteranDugommier, however, thinks the idea worth a word; questions the younggentleman; becomes convinced; and there is for issue, Try it. On the taciturn bronze-countenance, therefore, things being now allready, there sits a grimmer gravity than ever, compressing a hottercentral-fire than ever. Yonder, thou seest, is Fort l'Eguillette; adesperate lion-spring, yet a possible one; this day to be tried!--Triedit is; and found good. By stratagem and valour, stealing throughravines, plunging fiery through the fire-tempest, Fort l'Eguillette isclutched at, is carried; the smoke having cleared, wiser the Tricolorfly on it: the bronze-complexioned young man was right. Next morning, Hood, finding the interior of his lines exposed, his defences turnedinside out, makes for his shipping. Taking such Royalists as wishedit on board with him, he weighs anchor: on this 19th of December 1793, Toulon is once more the Republic's! Cannonading has ceased at Toulon; and now the guillotining andfusillading may begin. Civil horrors, truly: but at least that infamyof an English domination is purged away. Let there be Civic Feastuniversally over France: so reports Barrere, or Painter David; and theConvention assist in a body. (Moniteur, 1793, Nos. 101 (31 Decembre), 95, 96, 98, &c. ) Nay, it is said, these infamous English (with anattention rather to their own interests than to ours) set fire to ourstore-houses, arsenals, warships in Toulon Harbour, before weighing;some score of brave warships, the only ones we now had! However, it didnot prosper, though the flame spread far and high; some two ships wereburnt, not more; the very galley-slaves ran with buckets to quench. These same proud Ships, Ships l'Orient and the rest, have to carry thissame young Man to Egypt first: not yet can they be changed to ashes, orto Sea-Nymphs; not yet to sky-rockets, O Ship l'Orient, nor became theprey of England, --before their time! And so, over France universally, there is Civic Feast and high-tide:and Toulon sees fusillading, grape-shotting in mass, as Lyons saw; and'death is poured out in great floods, vomie a grands flots' and Twelvethousand Masons are requisitioned from the neighbouring country, to razeToulon from the face of the Earth. For it is to be razed, so reportsBarrere; all but the National Shipping Establishments; and to becalled henceforth not Toulon, but Port of the Mountain. There in blackdeath-cloud we must leave it;--hoping only that Toulon too is built ofstone; that perhaps even Twelve thousand Masons cannot pull it down, till the fit pass. One begins to be sick of 'death vomited in great floods. ' Neverthelesshearest thou not, O reader (for the sound reaches through centuries), in the dead December and January nights, over Nantes Town, --confusednoises, as of musketry and tumult, as of rage and lamentation; minglingwith the everlasting moan of the Loire waters there? Nantes Town issunk in sleep; but Representant Carrier is not sleeping, the wool-cappedCompany of Marat is not sleeping. Why unmoors that flatbottomed craft, that gabarre; about eleven at night; with Ninety Priests under hatches?They are going to Belle Isle? In the middle of the Loire stream, onsignal given, the gabarre is scuttled; she sinks with all her cargo. 'Sentence of Deportation, ' writes Carrier, 'was executed vertically. 'The Ninety Priests, with their gabarre-coffin, lie deep! It is thefirst of the Noyades, what we may call Drownages, of Carrier; which havebecome famous forever. Guillotining there was at Nantes, till the Headsman sank worn out: thenfusillading 'in the Plain of Saint-Mauve;' little children fusilladed, and women with children at the breast; children and women, by thehundred and twenty; and by the five hundred, so hot is La Vendee: tillthe very Jacobins grew sick, and all but the Company of Marat cried, Hold! Wherefore now we have got Noyading; and on the 24th night ofFrostarious year 2, which is 14th of December 1793, we have a secondNoyade: consisting of 'a Hundred and Thirty-eight persons. ' (Deux Amis, xii. 266-72; Moniteur, du 2 Janvier 1794. ) Or why waste a gabarre, sinking it with them? Fling them out; fling themout, with their hands tied: pour a continual hail of lead over all thespace, till the last struggler of them be sunk! Unsound sleepers ofNantes, and the Sea-Villages thereabouts, hear the musketry amid thenight-winds; wonder what the meaning of it is. And women were in thatgabarre; whom the Red Nightcaps were stripping naked; who begged, intheir agony, that their smocks might not be stript from them. And youngchildren were thrown in, their mothers vainly pleading: "Wolflings, "answered the Company of Marat, "who would grow to be wolves. " By degrees, daylight itself witnesses Noyades: women and men are tiedtogether, feet and feet, hands and hands: and flung in: this they callMariage Republicain, Republican Marriage. Cruel is the panther of thewoods, the she-bear bereaved of her whelps: but there is in man a hatredcrueller than that. Dumb, out of suffering now, as pale swoln corpses, the victims tumble confusedly seaward along the Loire stream; the tiderolling them back: clouds of ravens darken the River; wolves prowl onthe shoal-places: Carrier writes, 'Quel torrent revolutionnaire, Whata torrent of Revolution!' For the man is rabid; and the Time is rabid. These are the Noyades of Carrier; twenty-five by the tale, for whatis done in darkness comes to be investigated in sunlight: (Proces deCarrier, 4 tomes, Paris, 1795. ) not to be forgotten for centuries, --Wewill turn to another aspect of the Consummation of Sansculottism;leaving this as the blackest. But indeed men are all rabid; as the Time is. Representative Lebon, at Arras, dashes his sword into the blood flowing from the Guillotine;exclaims, "How I like it!" Mothers, they say, by his order, have tostand by while the Guillotine devours their children: a band of music isstationed near; and, at the fall of every head, strikes up its ca-ira. (Les Horreures des Prisons d'Arras, Paris, 1823. ) In the Burgh ofBedouin, in the Orange region, the Liberty-tree has been cut down overnight. Representative Maignet, at Orange, hears of it; burns BedouinBurgh to the last dog-hutch; guillotines the inhabitants, or drivesthem into the caves and hills. (Montgaillard, iv. 200. ) Republic One andIndivisible! She is the newest Birth of Nature's waste inorganic Deep, which men name Orcus, Chaos, primeval Night; and knows one law, that ofself-preservation. Tigresse Nationale: meddle not with a whisker of her!Swift-crushing is her stroke; look what a paw she spreads;--pity has notentered her heart. Prudhomme, the dull-blustering Printer and Able Editor, as yet a JacobinEditor, will become a renegade one, and publish large volumes on thesematters, Crimes of the Revolution; adding innumerable lies withal, as ifthe truth were not sufficient. We, for our part, find it more edifyingto know, one good time, that this Republic and National Tigress is a NewBirth; a Fact of Nature among Formulas, in an Age of Formulas; and tolook, oftenest in silence, how the so genuine Nature-Fact will demeanitself among these. For the Formulas are partly genuine, partlydelusive, supposititious: we call them, in the language of metaphor, regulated modelled shapes; some of which have bodies and life still inthem; most of which, according to a German Writer, have only emptiness, 'glass-eyes glaring on you with a ghastly affectation of life, and intheir interior unclean accumulation of beetles and spiders!' But theFact, let all men observe, is a genuine and sincere one; the sincerestof Facts: terrible in its sincerity, as very Death. Whatsoever isequally sincere may front it, and beard it; but whatsoever is not?-- Chapter 3. 5. IV. Carmagnole complete. Simultaneously with this Tophet-black aspect, there unfolds itselfanother aspect, which one may call a Tophet-red aspect: the Destructionof the Catholic Religion; and indeed, for the time being of Religionitself. We saw Romme's New Calendar establish its Tenth Day of Rest;and asked, what would become of the Christian Sabbath? The Calendaris hardly a month old, till all this is set at rest. Very singular, asMercier observes: last Corpus-Christi Day 1792, the whole world, andSovereign Authority itself, walked in religious gala, with a quitedevout air;--Butcher Legendre, supposed to be irreverent, was like tobe massacred in his Gig, as the thing went by. A Gallican Hierarchy, andChurch, and Church Formulas seemed to flourish, a little brown-leaved orso, but not browner than of late years or decades; to flourish, farand wide, in the sympathies of an unsophisticated People; defyingPhilosophism, Legislature and the Encyclopedie. Far and wide, alas, like a brown-leaved Vallombrosa; which waits but one whirlblast of theNovember wind, and in an hour stands bare! Since that Corpus-ChristiDay, Brunswick has come, and the Emigrants, and La Vendee, andeighteen months of Time: to all flourishing, especially to brown-leavedflourishing, there comes, were it never so slowly, an end. On the 7th of November, a certain Citoyen Parens, Curate ofBoissise-le-Bertrand, writes to the Convention that he has all his lifebeen preaching a lie, and is grown weary of doing it; wherefore he willnow lay down his Curacy and stipend, and begs that an august Conventionwould give him something else to live upon. 'Mention honorable, ' shallwe give him? Or 'reference to Committee of Finances?' Hardly is thisgot decided, when goose Gobel, Constitutional Bishop of Paris, with hisChapter, with Municipal and Departmental escort in red nightcaps, makes his appearance, to do as Parens has done. Goose Gobel willnow acknowledge 'no Religion but Liberty;' therefore he doffs hisPriest-gear, and receives the Fraternal embrace. To the joy ofDepartmental Momoro, of Municipal Chaumettes and Heberts, of Vincentand the Revolutionary Army! Chaumette asks, Ought there not, in thesecircumstances, to be among our intercalary Days Sans-breeches, a Feastof Reason? (Moniteur, Seance du 17 Brumaire (7th November), 1793. )Proper surely! Let Atheist Marechal, Lalande, and little Atheist Naigeonrejoice; let Clootz, Speaker of Mankind, present to the Convention hisEvidences of the Mahometan Religion, 'a work evincing the nullity of allReligions, '--with thanks. There shall be Universal Republic now, thinksClootz; and 'one God only, Le Peuple. ' The French Nation is of gregarious imitative nature; it needed but afugle-motion in this matter; and goose Gobel, driven by Municipality andforce of circumstances, has given one. What Cure will be behind himof Boissise; what Bishop behind him of Paris? Bishop Gregoire, indeed, courageously declines; to the sound of "We force no one; let Gregoireconsult his conscience;" but Protestant and Romish by the hundredvolunteer and assent. From far and near, all through November intoDecember, till the work is accomplished, come Letters of renegation, come Curates who are 'learning to be Carpenters, ' Curates with theirnew-wedded Nuns: has not the Day of Reason dawned, very swiftly, and become noon? From sequestered Townships comes Addresses, statingplainly, though in Patois dialect, That 'they will have no more todo with the black animal called Curay, animal noir, appelle Curay. '(Analyse du Moniteur (Paris, 1801), ii. 280. ) Above all things there come Patriotic Gifts, of Church-furniture. Theremnant of bells, except for tocsin, descend from their belfries, intothe National meltingpot, to make cannon. Censers and all sacred vesselsare beaten broad; of silver, they are fit for the poverty-stricken Mint;of pewter, let them become bullets to shoot the 'enemies of du genrehumain. ' Dalmatics of plush make breeches for him who has none;linen stoles will clip into shirts for the Defenders of the Country:old-clothesmen, Jew or Heathen, drive the briskest trade. Chalier'sAss Procession, at Lyons, was but a type of what went on, in thosesame days, in all Towns. In all Towns and Townships as quick as theguillotine may go, so quick goes the axe and the wrench: sacristies, lutrins, altar-rails are pulled down; the Mass Books torn into cartridgepapers: men dance the Carmagnole all night about the bonfire. Allhighways jingle with metallic Priest-tackle, beaten broad; sent to theConvention, to the poverty-stricken Mint. Good Sainte Genevieve's Chasseis let down: alas, to be burst open, this time, and burnt on the Placede Greve. Saint Louis's shirt is burnt;--might not a Defender of theCountry have had it? At Saint-Denis Town, no longer Saint-Denis butFranciade, Patriotism has been down among the Tombs, rummaging; theRevolutionary Army has taken spoil. This, accordingly, is what thestreets of Paris saw: 'Most of these persons were still drunk, with the brandy they hadswallowed out of chalices;--eating mackerel on the patenas! Mounted onAsses, which were housed with Priests' cloaks, they reined them withPriests' stoles: they held clutched with the same hand communion-cupand sacred wafer. They stopped at the doors of Dramshops; held outciboriums: and the landlord, stoop in hand, had to fill them thrice. Next came Mules high-laden with crosses, chandeliers, censers, holy-water vessels, hyssops;--recalling to mind the Priests of Cybele, whose panniers, filled with the instruments of their worship, servedat once as storehouse, sacristy and temple. In such equipage did theseprofaners advance towards the Convention. They enter there, in animmense train, ranged in two rows; all masked like mummers infantastic sacerdotal vestments; bearing on hand-barrows their heapedplunder, --ciboriums, suns, candelabras, plates of gold and silver. '(Mercier, iv. 134. See Moniteur, Seance du 10 Novembre. ) The Address we do not give; for indeed it was in strophes, sung vivavoce, with all the parts;--Danton glooming considerably, in his place;and demanding that there be prose and decency in future. (See alsoMoniteur, Seance du 26 Novembre. ) Nevertheless the captors of suchspolia opima crave, not untouched with liquor, permission to dance theCarmagnole also on the spot: whereto an exhilarated Convention cannotbut accede. Nay, 'several Members, ' continues the exaggerative Mercier, who was not there to witness, being in Limbo now, as one of Duperret'sSeventy-three, 'several Members, quitting their curule chairs, took thehand of girls flaunting in Priest's vestures, and danced the Carmagnolealong with them. ' Such Old-Hallow-tide have they, in this year, oncenamed of Grace, 1793. Out of which strange fall of Formulas, tumbling there in confusedwelter, betrampled by the Patriotic dance, is it not passing strange tosee a new Formula arise? For the human tongue is not adequate tospeak what 'triviality run distracted' there is in human nature. BlackMumbo-Jumbo of the woods, and most Indian Wau-waus, one can understand:but this of Procureur Anaxagoras whilom John-Peter Chaumette? Wewill say only: Man is a born idol-worshipper, sight-worshipper, sosensuous-imaginative is he; and also partakes much of the nature of theape. For the same day, while this brave Carmagnole dance has hardly jiggeditself out, there arrive Procureur Chaumette and Municipals andDepartmentals, and with them the strangest freightage: a New Religion!Demoiselle Candeille, of the Opera; a woman fair to look upon, when wellrouged: she, borne on palanquin shoulder-high; with red woolen nightcap;in azure mantle; garlanded with oak; holding in her hand the Pike ofthe Jupiter-Peuple, sails in; heralded by white young women girt intricolor. Let the world consider it! This, O National Convention wonderof the universe, is our New Divinity; Goddess of Reason, worthy, andalone worthy of revering. Nay, were it too much to ask of an augustNational Representation that it also went with us to the ci-devantCathedral called of Notre-Dame, and executed a few strophes in worshipof her? President and Secretaries give Goddess Candeille, borne at due heightround their platform, successively the fraternal kiss; whereupon she, bydecree, sails to the right-hand of the President and there alights. And now, after due pause and flourishes of oratory, the Convention, gathering its limbs, does get under way in the required processiontowards Notre-Dame;--Reason, again in her litter, sitting in the vanof them, borne, as one judges, by men in the Roman costume; escortedby wind-music, red nightcaps, and the madness of the world. And sostraightway, Reason taking seat on the high-altar of Notre-Dame, therequisite worship or quasi-worship is, say the Newspapers, executed;National Convention chanting 'the Hymn to Liberty, words by Chenier, music by Gossec. ' It is the first of the Feasts of Reason; firstcommunion-service of the New Religion of Chaumette. 'The corresponding Festival in the Church of Saint-Eustache, ' saysMercier, 'offered the spectacle of a great tavern. The interior of thechoir represented a landscape decorated with cottages and boskets oftrees. Round the choir stood tables over-loaded with bottles, withsausages, pork-puddings, pastries and other meats. The guests flowed inand out through all doors: whosoever presented himself took part ofthe good things: children of eight, girls as well as boys, put hand toplate, in sign of Liberty; they drank also of the bottles, and theirprompt intoxication created laughter. Reason sat in azure mantle aloft, in a serene manner; Cannoneers, pipe in mouth, serving her as acolytes. And out of doors, ' continues the exaggerative man, 'were mad multitudesdancing round the bonfire of Chapel-balustrades, of Priests' and Canons'stalls; and the dancers, I exaggerate nothing, the dancers nigh bareof breeches, neck and breast naked, stockings down, went whirlingand spinning, like those Dust-vortexes, forerunners of Tempest andDestruction. ' (Mercier, iv. 127-146. ) At Saint-Gervais Church againthere was a terrible 'smell of herrings;' Section or Municipality havingprovided no food, no condiment, but left it to chance. Other mysteries, seemingly of a Cabiric or even Paphian character, we heave under theVeil, which appropriately stretches itself 'along the pillars of theaisles, '--not to be lifted aside by the hand of History. But there is one thing we should like almost better to understandthan any other: what Reason herself thought of it, all the while. Whatarticulate words poor Mrs. Momoro, for example, uttered; when she hadbecome ungoddessed again, and the Bibliopolist and she sat quiet athome, at supper? For he was an earnest man, Bookseller Momoro; and hadnotions of Agrarian Law. Mrs. Momoro, it is admitted, made one of thebest Goddesses of Reason; though her teeth were a little defective. Andnow if the reader will represent to himself that such visible Adorationof Reason went on 'all over the Republic, ' through these November andDecember weeks, till the Church woodwork was burnt out, and the businessotherwise completed, he will feel sufficiently what an adoring Republicit was, and without reluctance quit this part of the subject. Such gifts of Church-spoil are chiefly the work of the ArmeeRevolutionnaire; raised, as we said, some time ago. It is an Armywith portable guillotine: commanded by Playwright Ronsin in terriblemoustachioes; and even by some uncertain shadow of Usher Maillard, theold Bastille Hero, Leader of the Menads, September Man in Grey! ClerkVincent of the War-Office, one of Pache's old Clerks, 'with a headheated by the ancient orators, ' had a main hand in the appointments, atleast in the staff-appointments. But of the marchings and retreatings of these Six Thousand no Xenophonexists. Nothing, but an inarticulate hum, of cursing and sooty frenzy, surviving dubious in the memory of ages! They scour the country roundParis; seeking Prisoners; raising Requisitions; seeing that Edictsare executed, that the Farmers have thrashed sufficiently; loweringChurch-bells or metallic Virgins. Detachments shoot forth dim, towardsremote parts of France; nay new Provincial Revolutionary Armies risedim, here and there, as Carrier's Company of Marat, as Tallien'sBourdeaux Troop; like sympathetic clouds in an atmosphere all electric. Ronsin, they say, admitted, in candid moments, that his troops werethe elixir of the Rascality of the Earth. One sees them drawn up inmarket-places; travel-plashed, rough-bearded, in carmagnole complete:the first exploit is to prostrate what Royal or Ecclesiastical monument, crucifix or the like, there may be; to plant a cannon at the steeple, fetch down the bell without climbing for it, bell and belfry together. This, however, it is said, depends somewhat on the size of the town:if the town contains much population, and these perhaps of a dubiouscholeric aspect, the Revolutionary Army will do its work gently, byladder and wrench; nay perhaps will take its billet without work at all;and, refreshing itself with a little liquor and sleep, pass on to thenext stage. (Deux Amis, xii. 62-5. ) Pipe in cheek, sabre on thigh; incarmagnole complete! Such things have been; and may again be. Charles Second sent out hisHighland Host over the Western Scotch Whigs; Jamaica Planters gotDogs from the Spanish Main to hunt their Maroons with: France too isbescoured with a Devil's Pack, the baying of which, at this distance ofhalf a century, still sounds in the mind's ear. Chapter 3. 5. V. Like a Thunder-Cloud. But the grand, and indeed substantially primary and generic aspect ofthe Consummation of Terror remains still to be looked at; nay blinkardHistory has for most part all but overlooked this aspect, the soul ofthe whole: that which makes it terrible to the Enemies of France. LetDespotism and Cimmerian Coalitions consider. All French men and Frenchthings are in a State of Requisition; Fourteen Armies are got on foot;Patriotism, with all that it has of faculty in heart or in head, in soulor body or breeches-pocket, is rushing to the frontiers, to prevailor die! Busy sits Carnot, in Salut Public; busy for his share, in'organising victory. ' Not swifter pulses that Guillotine, in dreadsystole-diastole in the Place de la Revolution, than smites the Swordof Patriotism, smiting Cimmeria back to its own borders, from the sacredsoil. In fact the Government is what we can call Revolutionary; and some menare 'a la hauteur, ' on a level with the circumstances; and others arenot a la hauteur, --so much the worse for them. But the Anarchy, we maysay, has organised itself: Society is literally overset; its old forcesworking with mad activity, but in the inverse order; destructive andself-destructive. Curious to see how all still refers itself to some head and fountain;not even an Anarchy but must have a centre to revolve round. It is nowsome six months since the Committee of Salut Public came into existence:some three months since Danton proposed that all power should be givenit and 'a sum of fifty millions, ' and the 'Government be declaredRevolutionary. ' He himself, since that day, would take no hand in it, though again and again solicited; but sits private in his place onthe Mountain. Since that day, the Nine, or if they should even rise toTwelve have become permanent, always re-elected when their term runsout; Salut Public, Surete Generale have assumed their ulterior form andmode of operating. Committee of Public Salvation, as supreme; of General Surety, assubaltern: these like a Lesser and Greater Council, most harmonioushitherto, have become the centre of all things. They ride thisWhirlwind; they, raised by force of circumstances, insensibly, verystrangely, thither to that dread height;--and guide it, and seem toguide it. Stranger set of Cloud-Compellers the Earth never saw. ARobespierre, a Billaud, a Collot, Couthon, Saint-Just; not to mentionstill meaner Amars, Vadiers, in Surete Generale: these are yourCloud-Compellers. Small intellectual talent is necessary: indeed whereamong them, except in the head of Carnot, busied organising victory, would you find any? The talent is one of instinct rather. It is that ofdivining aright what this great dumb Whirlwind wishes and wills; thatof willing, with more frenzy than any one, what all the world wills. To stand at no obstacles; to heed no considerations human or divine; toknow well that, of divine or human, there is one thing needful, Triumphof the Republic, Destruction of the Enemies of the Republic! With thisone spiritual endowment, and so few others, it is strange to see how adumb inarticulately storming Whirlwind of things puts, as it were, itsreins into your hand, and invites and compels you to be leader of it. Hard by, sits a Municipality of Paris; all in red nightcaps sincethe fourth of November last: a set of men fully 'on a level withcircumstances, ' or even beyond it. Sleek Mayor Pache, studious to besafe in the middle; Chaumettes, Heberts, Varlets, and Henriot theirgreat Commandant; not to speak of Vincent the War-clerk, of Momoros, Dobsents, and such like: all intent to have Churches plundered, to haveReason adored, Suspects cut down, and the Revolution triumph. Perhapscarrying the matter too far? Danton was heard to grumble at the civicstrophes; and to recommend prose and decency. Robespierre also grumblesthat in overturning Superstition we did not mean to make a religionof Atheism. In fact, your Chaumette and Company constitute a kindof Hyper-Jacobinism, or rabid 'Faction des Enrages;' which has givenorthodox Patriotism some umbrage, of late months. To 'know a Suspect onthe streets:' what is this but bringing the Law of the Suspect itselfinto ill odour? Men half-frantic, men zealous overmuch, --they toilthere, in their red nightcaps, restlessly, rapidly, accomplishing whatof Life is allotted them. And the Forty-four Thousand other Townships, each with revolutionaryCommittee, based on Jacobin Daughter Society; enlightened by thespirit of Jacobinism; quickened by the Forty Sous a-day!--The FrenchConstitution spurned always at any thing like Two Chambers; and yetbehold, has it not verily got Two Chambers? National Convention, electedfor one; Mother of Patriotism, self-elected, for another! Mother ofPatriotism has her Debates reported in the Moniteur, as importantstate-procedures; which indisputably they are. A Second Chamber ofLegislature we call this Mother Society;--if perhaps it were not rathercomparable to that old Scotch Body named Lords of the Articles, withoutwhose origination, and signal given, the so-called Parliament couldintroduce no bill, could do no work? Robespierre himself, whose wordsare a law, opens his incorruptible lips copiously in the Jacobins Hall. Smaller Council of Salut Public, Greater Council of Surete Generale, allactive Parties, come here to plead; to shape beforehand what decisionthey must arrive at, what destiny they have to expect. Now if aquestion arose, Which of those Two Chambers, Convention, or Lords of theArticles, was the stronger? Happily they as yet go hand in hand. As for the National Convention, truly it has become a most composedBody. Quenched now the old effervescence; the Seventy-three locked inward; once noisy Friends of the Girondins sunk all into silent menof the Plain, called even 'Frogs of the Marsh, ' Crapauds du Marais!Addresses come, Revolutionary Church-plunder comes; Deputations, withprose, or strophes: these the Convention receives. But beyond this, the Convention has one thing mainly to do: to listen what Salut Publicproposes, and say, Yea. Bazire followed by Chabot, with some impetuosity, declared, one morning, that this was not the way of a Free Assembly. "There ought to be anOpposition side, a Cote Droit, " cried Chabot; "if none else will formit, I will: people say to me, You will all get guillotined in your turn, first you and Bazire, then Danton, then Robespierre himself. " (Debats, du 10 Novembre, 1723. ) So spake the Disfrocked, with a loud voice: nextweek, Bazire and he lie in the Abbaye; wending, one may fear, towardsTinville and the Axe; and 'people say to me'--what seems to be provingtrue! Bazire's blood was all inflamed with Revolution fever; withcoffee and spasmodic dreams. (Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans, i. 115. )Chabot, again, how happy with his rich Jew-Austrian wife, late FrauleinFrey! But he lies in Prison; and his two Jew-Austrian Brothers-in-Law, the Bankers Frey, lie with him; waiting the urn of doom. Let a NationalConvention, therefore, take warning, and know its function. Let theConvention, all as one man, set its shoulder to the work; not withbursts of Parliamentary eloquence, but in quite other and serviceableways! Convention Commissioners, what we ought to call Representatives, 'Representans on mission, ' fly, like the Herald Mercury, to all pointsof the Territory; carrying your behests far and wide. In their 'roundhat plumed with tricolor feathers, girt with flowing tricolor taffeta;in close frock, tricolor sash, sword and jack-boots, ' these men arepowerfuller than King or Kaiser. They say to whomso they meet, Do; andhe must do it: all men's goods are at their disposal; for France is asone huge City in Siege. They smite with Requisitions, and Forced-loan;they have the power of life and death. Saint-Just and Lebas order therich classes of Strasburg to 'strip off their shoes, ' and send them tothe Armies where as many as 'ten thousand pairs' are needed. Also, thatwithin four and twenty hours, 'a thousand beds' are to be got ready;(Moniteur, du 27 Novembre 1793. ) wrapt in matting, and sent under way. For the time presses!--Like swift bolts, issuing from the fuliginousOlympus of Salut Public rush these men, oftenest in pairs; scatteryour thunder-orders over France; make France one enormous Revolutionarythunder-cloud. Chapter 3. 5. VI. Do thy Duty. Accordingly alongside of these bonfires of Church balustrades, andsounds of fusillading and noyading, there rise quite another sort offires and sounds: Smithy-fires and Proof-volleys for the manufacture ofarms. Cut off from Sweden and the world, the Republic must learn to make steelfor itself; and, by aid of Chemists, she has learnt it. Towns thatknew only iron, now know steel: from their new dungeons at Chantilly, Aristocrats may hear the rustle of our new steel furnace there. Donot bells transmute themselves into cannon; iron stancheons into thewhite-weapon (arme blanche), by sword-cutlery? The wheels of Langresscream, amid their sputtering fire halo; grinding mere swords. Thestithies of Charleville ring with gun-making. What say we, Charleville?Two hundred and fifty-eight Forges stand in the open spaces of Parisitself; a hundred and forty of them in the Esplanade of the Invalides, fifty-four in the Luxembourg Garden: so many Forges stand; grim Smithsbeating and forging at lock and barrel there. The Clockmakers have come, requisitioned, to do the touch-holes, the hard-solder and filework. Fivegreat Barges swing at anchor on the Seine Stream, loud with boring; thegreat press-drills grating harsh thunder to the general ear and heart. And deft Stock-makers do gouge and rasp; and all men bestir themselves, according to their cunning:--in the language of hope, it is reckonedthat a 'thousand finished muskets can be delivered daily. ' (Choix desRapports, xiii. 189. ) Chemists of the Republic have taught usmiracles of swift tanning; (Ibid. Xv. 360. ) the cordwainer bores andstitches;--not of 'wood and pasteboard, ' or he shall answer itto Tinville! The women sew tents and coats, the children scrapesurgeon's-lint, the old men sit in the market-places; able men areon march; all men in requisition: from Town to Town flutters, on theHeaven's winds, this Banner, THE FRENCH PEOPLE RISEN AGAINST TYRANTS. All which is well. But now arises the question: What is to be done forsaltpetre? Interrupted Commerce and the English Navy shut us out fromsaltpetre; and without saltpetre there is no gunpowder. RepublicanScience again sits meditative; discovers that saltpetre exists here andthere, though in attenuated quantity: that old plaster of walls holdsa sprinkling of it;--that the earth of the Paris Cellars holds asprinkling of it, diffused through the common rubbish; that were thesedug up and washed, saltpetre might be had. Whereupon swiftly, see! theCitoyens, with upshoved bonnet rouge, or with doffed bonnet, and hairtoil-wetted; digging fiercely, each in his own cellar, for saltpetre. The Earth-heap rises at every door; the Citoyennes with hod and bucketcarrying it up; the Citoyens, pith in every muscle, shovelling anddigging: for life and saltpetre. Dig my braves; and right well speed ye. What of saltpetre is essential the Republic shall not want. Consummation of Sansculottism has many aspects and tints: but thebrightest tint, really of a solar or stellar brightness, is this whichthe Armies give it. That same fervour of Jacobinism which internallyfills France with hatred, suspicions, scaffolds and Reason-worship, does, on the Frontiers, shew itself as a glorious Pro patria mori. Eversince Dumouriez's defection, three Convention Representatives attendevery General. Committee of Salut has sent them, often with this Laconicorder only: "Do thy duty, Fais ton devoir. " It is strange, under whatimpediments the fire of Jacobinism, like other such fires, will burn. These Soldiers have shoes of wood and pasteboard, or go booted inhayropes, in dead of winter; they skewer a bass mat round theirshoulders, and are destitute of most things. What then? It is for Rightsof Frenchhood, of Manhood, that they fight: the unquenchable spirit, here as elsewhere, works miracles. "With steel and bread, " says theConvention Representative, "one may get to China. " The Generals go fastto the guillotine; justly and unjustly. From which what inference? Thisamong others: That ill-success is death; that in victory alone is life!To conquer or die is no theatrical palabra, in these circumstances: buta practical truth and necessity. All Girondism, Halfness, Compromise isswept away. Forward, ye Soldiers of the Republic, captain and man!Dash with your Gaelic impetuosity, on Austria, England, Prussia, Spain, Sardinia; Pitt, Cobourg, York, and the Devil and the World! Behind usis but the Guillotine; before us is Victory, Apotheosis and Millenniumwithout end! See accordingly, on all Frontiers, how the Sons of Night, astonishedafter short triumph, do recoil;--the Sons of the Republic flying atthem, with wild ca-ira or Marseillese Aux armes, with the temper ofcat-o'-mountain, or demon incarnate; which no Son of Night can stand!Spain, which came bursting through the Pyrenees, rustling with Bourbonbanners, and went conquering here and there for a season, falters atsuch cat-o'-mountain welcome; draws itself in again; too happy now werethe Pyrenees impassable. Not only does Dugommier, conqueror of Toulon, drive Spain back; he invades Spain. General Dugommier invades it by theEastern Pyrenees; General Dugommier invades it by the Eastern Pyrenees;General Muller shall invade it by the Western. Shall, that is the word:Committee of Salut Public has said it; Representative Cavaignac, onmission there, must see it done. Impossible! cries Muller, --Infallible!answers Cavaignac. Difficulty, impossibility, is to no purpose. "The Committee is deaf on that side of its head, " answers Cavaignac, "n'entend pas de cette oreille la. How many wantest thou, of men, ofhorses, cannons? Thou shalt have them. Conquerors, conquered or hanged, forward we must. " (There is, in Prudhomme, an atrocity a la Captain-Kirkreported of this Cavaignac; which has been copied into Dictionaries ofHommes Marquans, of Biographie Universelle, &c. ; which not only has notruth in it, but, much more singular, is still capable of being provedto have none. ) Which things also, even as the Representative spake them, were done. The Spring of the new Year sees Spain invaded: and redoubtsare carried, and Passes and Heights of the most scarped description;Spanish Field-officerism struck mute at such cat-o'-mountain spirit, thecannon forgetting to fire. (Deux Amis, xiii. 205-30; Toulongeon, &c. )Swept are the Pyrenees; Town after Town flies up, burst by terror orthe petard. In the course of another year, Spain will crave Peace;acknowledge its sins and the Republic; nay, in Madrid, there will be joyas for a victory, that even Peace is got. Few things, we repeat, can be notabler than these ConventionRepresentatives, with their power more than kingly. Nay at bottom arethey not Kings, Ablemen, of a sort; chosen from the Seven Hundred andForty-nine French Kings; with this order, Do thy duty? RepresentativeLevasseur, of small stature, by trade a mere pacific Surgeon-Accoucheur, has mutinies to quell; mad hosts (mad at the Doom of Custine) bellowingfar and wide; he alone amid them, the one small Representative, --small, but as hard as flint, which also carries fire in it! So too, atHondschooten, far in the afternoon, he declares that the battle isnot lost; that it must be gained; and fights, himself, with his ownobstetric hand;--horse shot under him, or say on foot, 'up to thehaunches in tide-water;' cutting stoccado and passado there, in defianceof Water, Earth, Air and Fire, the choleric little Representativethat he was! Whereby, as natural, Royal Highness of York had towithdraw, --occasionally at full gallop; like to be swallowed by thetide: and his Siege of Dunkirk became a dream, realising only much lossof beautiful siege-artillery and of brave lives. (Levasseur, Memoires, ii. C. 2-7. ) General Houchard, it would appear, stood behind a hedge, on thisHondschooten occasion; wherefore they have since guillotined him. A newGeneral Jourdan, late Serjeant Jourdan, commands in his stead: he, in long-winded Battles of Watigny, 'murderous artillery-fire minglingitself with sound of Revolutionary battle-hymns, ' forces Austria behindthe Sambre again; has hopes of purging the soil of Liberty. With hardwrestling, with artillerying and ca-ira-ing, it shall be done. In thecourse of a new Summer, Valenciennes will see itself beleaguered; Condebeleaguered; whatsoever is yet in the hands of Austria beleaguered andbombarded: nay, by Convention Decree, we even summon them all 'eitherto surrender in twenty-four hours, or else be put to the sword;'--a highsaying, which, though it remains unfulfilled, may shew what spirit oneis of. Representative Drouet, as an Old-Dragoon, could fight by a kind ofsecond nature; but he was unlucky. Him, in a night-foray at Maubeuge, the Austrians took alive, in October last. They stript him almost naked, he says; making a shew of him, as King-taker of Varennes. They flung himinto carts; sent him far into the interior of Cimmeria, to 'a Fortresscalled Spitzberg' on the Danube River; and left him there, at anelevation of perhaps a hundred and fifty feet, to his own bitterreflections. Reflections; and also devices! For the indomitableOld-dragoon constructs wing-machinery, of Paperkite; saws window-bars:determines to fly down. He will seize a boat, will follow theRiver's course: land somewhere in Crim Tartary, in the Black Sea orConstantinople region: a la Sindbad! Authentic History, accordingly, looking far into Cimmeria, discerns dimly a phenomenon. In the deadnight-watches, the Spitzberg sentry is near fainting with terror: Isit a huge vague Portent descending through the night air? It is ahuge National Representative Old-dragoon, descending by Paperkite; toorapidly, alas! For Drouet had taken with him 'a small provision-store, twenty pounds weight or thereby;' which proved accelerative: so he fell, fracturing his leg; and lay there, moaning, till day dawned, till youcould discern clearly that he was not a Portent but a Representative!(His narrative in Deux Amis, xiv. 177-86. ) Or see Saint-Just, in the Lines of Weissembourg, though physically ofa timid apprehensive nature, how he charges with his 'Alsatian Peasantsarmed hastily' for the nonce; the solemn face of him blazing into flame;his black hair and tricolor hat-taffeta flowing in the breeze; These ourLines of Weissembourg were indeed forced, and Prussia and the Emigrantsrolled through: but we re-force the Lines of Weissembourg; and Prussiaand the Emigrants roll back again still faster, --hurled with bayonetcharges and fiery ca-ira-ing. Ci-devant Serjeant Pichegru, ci-devant Serjeant Hoche, risen now tobe Generals, have done wonders here. Tall Pichegru was meant forthe Church; was Teacher of Mathematics once, in Brienne School, --hisremarkablest Pupil there was the Boy Napoleon Buonaparte. He then, notin the sweetest humour, enlisted exchanging ferula for musket; and hadgot the length of the halberd, beyond which nothing could be hoped;when the Bastille barriers falling made passage for him, and he is here. Hoche bore a hand at the literal overturn of the Bastille; he was, as wesaw, a Serjeant of the Gardes Francaises, spending his pay in rushlightsand cheap editions of books. How the Mountains are burst, and many anEnceladus is disemprisoned: and Captains founding on Four parchments ofNobility, are blown with their parchments across the Rhine, into LunarLimbo! What high feats of arms, therefore, were done in these Fourteen Armies;and how, for love of Liberty and hope of Promotion, low-born valour cutits desperate way to Generalship; and, from the central Carnot in SalutPublic to the outmost drummer on the Frontiers, men strove for theirRepublic, let readers fancy. The snows of Winter, the flowers of Summercontinue to be stained with warlike blood. Gaelic impetuosity mountsever higher with victory; spirit of Jacobinism weds itself to nationalvanity: the Soldiers of the Republic are becoming, as we prophesied, very Sons of Fire. Barefooted, barebacked: but with bread and iron youcan get to China! It is one Nation against the whole world; but theNation has that within her which the whole world will not conquer. Cimmeria, astonished, recoils faster or slower; all round the Republicthere rises fiery, as it were, a magic ring of musket-volleying andca-ira-ing. Majesty of Prussia, as Majesty of Spain, will by and byacknowledge his sins and the Republic: and make a Peace of Bale. Foreign Commerce, Colonies, Factories in the East and in the West, arefallen or falling into the hands of sea-ruling Pitt, enemy of humannature. Nevertheless what sound is this that we hear, on the first ofJune, 1794; sound of as war-thunder borne from the Ocean too; of tonemost piercing? War-thunder from off the Brest waters: Villaret-Joyeuseand English Howe, after long manoeuvring have ranked themselves there;and are belching fire. The enemies of human nature are on their ownelement; cannot be conquered; cannot be kept from conquering. Twelvehours of raging cannonade; sun now sinking westward through thebattle-smoke: six French Ships taken, the Battle lost; what Ship soevercan still sail, making off! But how is it, then, with that Vengeur Ship, she neither strikes nor makes off? She is lamed, she cannot make off;strike she will not. Fire rakes her fore and aft, from victoriousenemies; the Vengeur is sinking. Strong are ye, Tyrants of the Sea;yet we also, are we weak? Lo! all flags, streamers, jacks, every rag oftricolor that will yet run on rope, fly rustling aloft: the whole crewcrowds to the upper deck; and, with universal soul-maddening yell, shouts Vive la Republique, --sinking, sinking. She staggers, she lurches, her last drunk whirl; Ocean yawns abysmal: down rushes the Vengeur, carrying Vive la Republique along with her, unconquerable, intoEternity! (Compare Barrere (Chois des Rapports, xiv. 416-21); Lord Howe(Annual Register of 1794, p. 86), &c. ) Let foreign Despots think ofthat. There is an Unconquerable in man, when he stands on his Rights ofMan: let Despots and Slaves and all people know this, and only them thatstand on the Wrongs of Man tremble to know it. Chapter 3. 5. VII. Flame-Picture. In this manner, mad-blazing with flame of all imaginable tints, fromthe red of Tophet to the stellar-bright, blazes off this Consummation ofSansculottism. But the hundredth part of the things that were done, and the thousandthpart of the things that were projected and decreed to be done, wouldtire the tongue of History. Statue of the Peuple Souverain, high asStrasburg Steeple; which shall fling its shadow from the Pont Neuf overJardin National and Convention Hall;--enormous, in Painter David'shead! With other the like enormous Statues not a few: realised in paperDecree. For, indeed, the Statue of Liberty herself is still butPlaster in the Place de la Revolution! Then Equalisation of Weightsand Measures, with decimal division; Institutions, of Music and of muchelse; Institute in general; School of Arts, School of Mars, Eleves dela Patrie, Normal Schools: amid such Gun-boring, Altar-burning, Saltpetre-digging, and miraculous improvements in Tannery! What, for example, is this that Engineer Chappe is doing, in the Park ofVincennes? In the Park of Vincennes; and onwards, they say, in the Parkof Lepelletier Saint-Fargeau the assassinated Deputy; and still onwardsto the Heights of Ecouen and further, he has scaffolding set up, hasposts driven in; wooden arms with elbow joints are jerking and fuglingin the air, in the most rapid mysterious manner! Citoyens ran upsuspicious. Yes, O Citoyens, we are signaling: it is a device this, worthy of the Republic; a thing for what we will call Far-writingwithout the aid of postbags; in Greek, it shall be namedTelegraph. --Telegraphe sacre! answers Citoyenism: For writing toTraitors, to Austria?--and tears it down. Chappe had to escape, andget a new Legislative Decree. Nevertheless he has accomplished it, the indefatigable Chappe: this Far-writer, with its wooden arms andelbow-joints, can intelligibly signal; and lines of them are set up, tothe North Frontiers and elsewhither. On an Autumn evening of the YearTwo, Far-writer having just written that Conde Town has surrendered tous, we send from Tuileries Convention Hall this response in the shapeof Decree: 'The name of Conde is changed to Nord-Libre, North-Free. The Army of the North ceases not to merit well of the country. '--To theadmiration of men! For lo, in some half hour, while the Convention yetdebates, there arrives this new answer: 'I inform thee, je t'annonce, Citizen President, that the decree of Convention, ordering change of thename Conde into North-Free; and the other declaring that the Army ofthe North ceases not to merit well of the country, are transmitted andacknowledged by Telegraph. I have instructed my Officer at Lille toforward them to North-Free by express. Signed, CHAPPE. ' (Choix desRapports, xv. 378, 384. ) Or see, over Fleurus in the Netherlands, where General Jourdan, havingnow swept the soil of Liberty, and advanced thus far, is just about tofight, and sweep or be swept, things there not in the Heaven's Vault, some Prodigy, seen by Austrian eyes and spyglasses: in the similitude ofan enormous Windbag, with netting and enormous Saucer depending from it?A Jove's Balance, O ye Austrian spyglasses? One saucer-hole of a Jove'sBalance; your poor Austrian scale having kicked itself quite aloft, out of sight? By Heaven, answer the spyglasses, it is a Montgolfier, aBalloon, and they are making signals! Austrian cannon-battery barks atthis Montgolfier; harmless as dog at the Moon: the Montgolfier makes itssignals; detects what Austrian ambuscade there may be, and descendsat its ease. (26th June, 1794, see Rapport de Guyton-Morveau sur lesaerostats, in Moniteur du 6 Vendemiaire, An 2. ) What will not thesedevils incarnate contrive? On the whole, is it not, O Reader, one of the strangest Flame-Picturesthat ever painted itself; flaming off there, on its ground ofGuillotine-black? And the nightly Theatres are Twenty-three; andthe Salons de danse are sixty: full of mere Egalite, Fraternite andCarmagnole. And Section Committee-rooms are Forty-eight; redolent oftobacco and brandy: vigorous with twenty-pence a-day, coercing thesuspect. And the Houses of Arrest are Twelve for Paris alone; crowdedand even crammed. And at all turns, you need your 'Certificate ofCivism;' be it for going out, or for coming in; nay without it youcannot, for money, get your daily ounces of bread. Dusky red-cappedBaker's-queues; wagging themselves; not in silence! For we still live byMaximum, in all things; waited on by these two, Scarcity and Confusion. The faces of men are darkened with suspicion; with suspecting, or beingsuspect. The streets lie unswept; the ways unmended. Law has shut herBooks; speaks little, save impromptu, through the throat of Tinville. Crimes go unpunished: not crimes against the Revolution. (Mercier, v. 25; Deux Amis, xii. 142-199. ) 'The number of foundling children, ' assome compute, 'is doubled. ' How silent now sits Royalism; sits all Aristocratism; Respectabilitythat kept its Gig! The honour now, and the safety, is to Poverty, not toWealth. Your Citizen, who would be fashionable, walks abroad, withhis Wife on his arm, in red wool nightcap, black shag spencer, andcarmagnole complete. Aristocratism crouches low, in what shelter isstill left; submitting to all requisitions, vexations; too happyto escape with life. Ghastly chateaus stare on you by the wayside;disroofed, diswindowed; which the National House-broker is peeling forthe lead and ashlar. The old tenants hover disconsolate, over the Rhinewith Conde; a spectacle to men. Ci-devant Seigneur, exquisite in palate, will become an exquisite Restaurateur Cook in Hamburg; Ci-devant Madame, exquisite in dress, a successful Marchande des Modes in London. InNewgate-Street, you meet M. Le Marquis, with a rough deal on hisshoulder, adze and jack-plane under arm; he has taken to the joinertrade; it being necessary to live (faut vivre). (See Deux Amis, xv. 189-192; Memoires de Genlis; Founders of the French Republic, &c. &c. )--Higher than all Frenchmen the domestic Stock-jobberflourishes, --in a day of Paper-money. The Farmer also flourishes:'Farmers' houses, ' says Mercier, 'have become like Pawn-brokers' shops;'all manner of furniture, apparel, vessels of gold and silver accumulatethemselves there: bread is precious. The Farmer's rent is Paper-money, and he alone of men has bread: Farmer is better than Landlord, and willhimself become Landlord. And daily, we say, like a black Spectre, silently through thatLife-tumult, passes the Revolution Cart; writing on the walls its MENE, MENE, Thou art weighed, and found wanting! A Spectre with which one hasgrown familiar. Men have adjusted themselves: complaint issues not fromthat Death-tumbril. Weak women and ci-devants, their plumage and fineryall tarnished, sit there; with a silent gaze, as if looking into theInfinite Black. The once light lip wears a curl of irony, uttering noword; and the Tumbril fares along. They may be guilty before Heaven, ornot; they are guilty, we suppose, before the Revolution. Then, does notthe Republic 'coin money' of them, with its great axe? Red Nightcapshowl dire approval: the rest of Paris looks on; if with a sigh, that ismuch; Fellow-creatures whom sighing cannot help; whom black Necessityand Tinville have clutched. One other thing, or rather two other things, we will still mention;and no more: The Blond Perukes; the Tannery at Meudon. Great talk isof these Perruques blondes: O Reader, they are made from the Heads ofGuillotined women! The locks of a Duchess, in this way, may come tocover the scalp of a Cordwainer: her blond German Frankism his blackGaelic poll, if it be bald. Or they may be worn affectionately, asrelics; rendering one suspect? (Mercier, ii. 134. ) Citizens use them, not without mockery; of a rather cannibal sort. Still deeper into one's heart goes that Tannery at Meudon; not mentionedamong the other miracles of tanning! 'At Meudon, ' says Montgaillard withconsiderable calmness, 'there was a Tannery of Human Skins; such ofthe Guillotined as seemed worth flaying: of which perfectly goodwash-leather was made:' for breeches, and other uses. The skin of themen, he remarks, was superior in toughness (consistance) and qualityto shamoy; that of women was good for almost nothing, being so softin texture! (Montgaillard, iv. 290. )--History looking back overCannibalism, through Purchas's Pilgrims and all early and late Records, will perhaps find no terrestrial Cannibalism of a sort on the whole sodetestable. It is a manufactured, soft-feeling, quietly elegant sort; asort perfide! Alas then, is man's civilisation only a wrappage, throughwhich the savage nature of him can still burst, infernal as ever? Naturestill makes him; and has an Infernal in her as well as a Celestial. BOOK 3. VI. THERMIDOR Chapter 3. 6. I. The Gods are athirst. What then is this Thing, called La Revolution, which, like an Angel ofDeath, hangs over France, noyading, fusillading, fighting, gun-boring, tanning human skins? La Revolution is but so many Alphabetic Letters; athing nowhere to be laid hands on, to be clapt under lock and key: whereis it? what is it? It is the Madness that dwells in the hearts of men. In this man it is, and in that man; as a rage or as a terror, it isin all men. Invisible, impalpable; and yet no black Azrael, with wingsspread over half a continent, with sword sweeping from sea to sea, couldbe a truer Reality. To explain, what is called explaining, the march of this RevolutionaryGovernment, be no task of ours. Men cannot explain it. A paralyticCouthon, asking in the Jacobins, 'what hast thou done to be hanged ifthe Counter-Revolution should arrive;' a sombre Saint-Just, not yetsix-and-twenty, declaring that 'for Revolutionists there is no rest butin the tomb;' a seagreen Robespierre converted into vinegar and gall;much more an Amar and Vadier, a Collot and Billaud: to inquire whatthoughts, predetermination or prevision, might be in the head of thesemen! Record of their thought remains not; Death and Darkness have sweptit out utterly. Nay if we even had their thought, all they could havearticulately spoken to us, how insignificant a fraction were that of theThing which realised itself, which decreed itself, on signal given bythem! As has been said more than once, this Revolutionary Government isnot a self-conscious but a blind fatal one. Each man, enveloped in hisambient-atmosphere of revolutionary fanatic Madness, rushes on, impelledand impelling; and has become a blind brute Force; no rest for him butin the grave! Darkness and the mystery of horrid cruelty cover it forus, in History; as they did in Nature. The chaotic Thunder-cloud, withits pitchy black, and its tumult of dazzling jagged fire, in a worldall electric: thou wilt not undertake to shew how that comporteditself, --what the secrets of its dark womb were; from what sources, withwhat specialities, the lightning it held did, in confused brightness ofterror, strike forth, destructive and self-destructive, till it ended?Like a Blackness naturally of Erebus, which by will of Providencehad for once mounted itself into dominion and the Azure: is not thisproperly the nature of Sansculottism consummating itself? Of whichErebus Blackness be it enough to discern that this and the otherdazzling fire-bolt, dazzling fire-torrent, does by small Volition andgreat Necessity, verily issue, --in such and such succession; destructiveso and so, self-destructive so and so: till it end. Royalism is extinct, 'sunk, ' as they say, 'in the mud of the Loire;'Republicanism dominates without and within: what, therefore, on the 15thday of March, 1794, is this? Arrestment, sudden really as a bolt outof the Blue, has hit strange victims: Hebert Pere Duchene, BibliopolistMomoro, Clerk Vincent, General Ronsin; high Cordelier Patriots, redcapped Magistrates of Paris, Worshippers of Reason, Commanders ofRevolutionary Army! Eight short days ago, their Cordelier Club was loud, and louder than ever, with Patriot denunciations. Hebert Pere Duchenehad "held his tongue and his heart these two months, at sight ofModerates, Crypto-Aristocrats, Camilles, Scelerats in the Conventionitself: but could not do it any longer; would, if other remedy were not, invoke the Sacred right of Insurrection. " So spake Hebert in CordelierSession; with vivats, till the roofs rang again. (Moniteur, du 17Ventose (7th March) 1794. ) Eight short days ago; and now already! Theyrub their eyes: it is no dream; they find themselves in the Luxembourg. Goose Gobel too; and they that burnt Churches! Chaumette himself, potentProcureur, Agent National as they now call it, who could 'recognise theSuspect by the very face of them, ' he lingers but three days; onthe third day he too is hurled in. Most chopfallen, blue, enters theNational Agent this Limbo whither he has sent so many. Prisoners crowdround, jibing and jeering: "Sublime National Agent, " says one, "invirtue of thy immortal Proclamation, lo there! I am suspect, thouart suspect, he is suspect, we are suspect, ye are suspect, they aresuspect!" The meaning of these things? Meaning! It is a Plot; Plot of the mostextensive ramifications; which, however, Barrere holds the threads of. Such Church-burning and scandalous masquerades of Atheism, fit to makethe Revolution odious: where indeed could they originate but in the goldof Pitt? Pitt indubitably, as Preternatural Insight will teach one, didhire this Faction of Enrages, to play their fantastic tricks; to roarin their Cordeliers Club about Moderatism; to print their Pere Duchene;worship skyblue Reason in red nightcap; rob all Altars, --and bring thespoil to us!-- Still more indubitable, visible to the mere bodily sight, is this: thatthe Cordeliers Club sits pale, with anger and terror; and has 'veiledthe Rights of Man, '--without effect. Likewise that the Jacobins are inconsiderable confusion; busy 'purging themselves, 's'epurant, ' as, intimes of Plot and public Calamity, they have repeatedly had to do. Noteven Camille Desmoulins but has given offence: nay there have risenmurmurs against Danton himself; though he bellowed them down, andRobespierre finished the matter by 'embracing him in the Tribune. ' Whom shall the Republic and a jealous Mother Society trust? In thesetimes of temptation, of Preternatural Insight! For there are Factionsof the Stranger, 'de l'etranger, ' Factions of Moderates, of Enraged; allmanner of Factions: we walk in a world of Plots; strings, universallyspread, of deadly gins and falltraps, baited by the gold of Pitt!Clootz, Speaker of Mankind so-called, with his Evidences of MahometanReligion, and babble of Universal Republic, him an incorruptibleRobespierre has purged away. Baron Clootz, and Paine rebelliousNeedleman lie, these two months, in the Luxembourg; limbs of the Factionde l'etranger. Representative Phelippeaux is purged out: he came backfrom La Vendee with an ill report in his mouth against rogue Rossignol, and our method of warfare there. Recant it, O Phelippeaux, we entreatthee! Phelippeaux will not recant; and is purged out. RepresentativeFabre d'Eglantine, famed Nomenclator of Romme's Calendar, is purged out;nay, is cast into the Luxembourg: accused of Legislative Swindling 'inregard to monies of the India Company. ' There with his Chabots, Bazires, guilty of the like, let Fabre wait his destiny. And Westermann friendof Danton, he who led the Marseillese on the Tenth of August, and foughtwell in La Vendee, but spoke not well of rogue Rossignol, is purged out. Lucky, if he too go not to the Luxembourg. And your Prolys, Guzmans, ofthe Faction of the Stranger, they have gone; Peyreyra, though he fled isgone, 'taken in the disguise of a Tavern Cook. ' I am suspect, thou artsuspect, he is suspect!-- The great heart of Danton is weary of it. Danton is gone to nativeArcis, for a little breathing time of peace: Away, black Arachne-webs, thou world of Fury, Terror, and Suspicion; welcome, thou everlastingMother, with thy spring greenness, thy kind household loves andmemories; true art thou, were all else untrue! The great Titan walkssilent, by the banks of the murmuring Aube, in young native haunts thatknew him when a boy; wonders what the end of these things may be. But strangest of all, Camille Desmoulins is purged out. Couthon gave asa test in regard to Jacobin purgation the question, 'What hast thoudone to be hanged if Counter-Revolution should arrive?' Yet Camille, who could so well answer this question, is purged out! The truth is, Camille, early in December last, began publishing a new Journal, orSeries of Pamphlets, entitled the Vieux Cordelier, Old Cordelier. Camille, not afraid at one time to 'embrace Liberty on a heap ofdead bodies, ' begins to ask now, Whether among so many arresting andpunishing Committees there ought not to be a 'Committee of Mercy?'Saint-Just, he observes, is an extremely solemn young Republican, who'carries his head as if it were a Saint-Sacrement; adorable Hostie, ordivine Real-Presence! Sharply enough, this old Cordelier, Danton andhe were of the earliest primary Cordeliers, --shoots his glitteringwar-shafts into your new Cordeliers, your Heberts, Momoros, with theirbrawling brutalities and despicabilities: say, as the Sun-god (for poorCamille is a Poet) shot into that Python Serpent sprung of mud. Whereat, as was natural, the Hebertist Python did hiss and writheamazingly; and threaten 'sacred right of Insurrection;'--and, as we saw, get cast into Prison. Nay, with all the old wit, dexterity, and lightgraceful poignancy, Camille, translating 'out of Tacitus, from theReign of Tiberius, ' pricks into the Law of the Suspect itself; making itodious! Twice, in the Decade, his wild Leaves issue; full of wit, nayof humour, of harmonious ingenuity and insight, --one of the strangestphenomenon of that dark time; and smite, in their wild-sparkling way, atvarious monstrosities, Saint-Sacrament heads, and Juggernaut idols, ina rather reckless manner. To the great joy of Josephine Beauharnais, andthe other Five Thousand and odd Suspect, who fill the Twelve Houses ofArrest; on whom a ray of hope dawns! Robespierre, at first approbatory, knew not at last what to think; then thought, with his Jacobins, thatCamille must be expelled. A man of true Revolutionary spirit, thisCamille; but with the unwisest sallies; whom Aristocrats and Moderateshave the art to corrupt! Jacobinism is in uttermost crisis and struggle:enmeshed wholly in plots, corruptibilities, neck-gins and baitedfalltraps of Pitt Ennemi du Genre Humain. Camille's First Number beginswith 'O Pitt!'--his last is dated 15 Pluviose Year 2, 3d February 1794;and ends with these words of Montezuma's, 'Les dieux ont soif, The godsare athirst. ' Be this as it may, the Hebertists lie in Prison only some nine days. Onthe 24th of March, therefore, the Revolution Tumbrils carry through thatLife-tumult a new cargo: Hebert, Vincent, Momoro, Ronsin, Nineteen ofthem in all; with whom, curious enough, sits Clootz Speaker ofMankind. They have been massed swiftly into a lump, this miscellany ofNondescripts; and travel now their last road. No help. They too must'look through the little window;' they too 'must sneeze into the sack, 'eternuer dans le sac; as they have done to others so is it done tothem. Sainte-Guillotine, meseems, is worse than the old Saints ofSuperstition; a man-devouring Saint? Clootz, still with an air ofpolished sarcasm, endeavours to jest, to offer cheering 'arguments ofMaterialism;' he requested to be executed last, 'in order to establishcertain principles, '--which Philosophy has not retained. General Ronsintoo, he still looks forth with some air of defiance, eye of command: therest are sunk in a stony paleness of despair. Momoro, poor Bibliopolist, no Agrarian Law yet realised, --they might as well have hanged thee atEvreux, twenty months ago, when Girondin Buzot hindered them. HebertPere Duchene shall never in this world rise in sacred right ofinsurrection; he sits there low enough, head sunk on breast; RedNightcaps shouting round him, in frightful parody of his NewspaperArticles, "Grand choler of the Pere Duchene!" Thus perish they; thesack receives all their heads. Through some section of History, Nineteenspectre-chimeras shall flit, speaking and gibbering; till Oblivionswallow them. In the course of a week, the Revolutionary Army itself is disbanded; theGeneral having become spectral. This Faction of Rabids, therefore, isalso purged from the Republican soil; here also the baited falltraps ofthat Pitt have been wrenched up harmless; and anew there is joy overa Plot Discovered. The Revolution then is verily devouring its ownchildren. All Anarchy, by the nature of it, is not only destructive butself-destructive. Chapter 3. 6. II. Danton, No weakness. Danton, meanwhile, has been pressingly sent for from Arcis: he mustreturn instantly, cried Camille, cried Phelippeaux and Friends, whoscented danger in the wind. Danger enough! A Danton, a Robespierre, chief-products of a victorious Revolution, are now arrived in immediatefront of one another; must ascertain how they will live together, ruletogether. One conceives easily the deep mutual incompatibility thatdivided these two: with what terror of feminine hatred the poor seagreenFormula looked at the monstrous colossal Reality, and grew greenerto behold him;--the Reality, again, struggling to think no ill ofa chief-product of the Revolution; yet feeling at bottom that suchchief-product was little other than a chief wind-bag, blown large byPopular air; not a man with the heart of a man, but a poor spasmodicincorruptible pedant, with a logic-formula instead of heart; of Jesuitor Methodist-Parson nature; full of sincere-cant, incorruptibility, ofvirulence, poltroonery; barren as the east-wind! Two such chief-productsare too much for one Revolution. Friends, trembling at the results of a quarrel on their part, broughtthem to meet. "It is right, " said Danton, swallowing much indignation, "to repress the Royalists: but we should not strike except where itis useful to the Republic; we should not confound the innocent and theguilty. "--"And who told you, " replied Robespierre with a poisonous look, "that one innocent person had perished?"--"Quoi, " said Danton, turninground to Friend Paris self-named Fabricius, Juryman in the RevolutionaryTribunal: "Quoi, not one innocent? What sayest thou of it, Fabricius!"(Biographie de Ministres, para Danton. )--Friends, Westermann, this Parisand others urged him to shew himself, to ascend the Tribune and act. Theman Danton was not prone to shew himself; to act, or uproar for his ownsafety. A man of careless, large, hoping nature; a large nature thatcould rest: he would sit whole hours, they say, hearing Camille talk, and liked nothing so well. Friends urged him to fly; his Wife urged him:"Whither fly?" answered he: "If freed France cast me out, there are onlydungeons for me elsewhere. One carries not his country with him at thesole of his shoe!" The man Danton sat still. Not even the arrestmentof Friend Herault, a member of Salut, yet arrested by Salut, can rouseDanton. --On the night of the 30th of March, Juryman Paris came rushingin; haste looking through his eyes: A clerk of the Salut Committee hadtold him Danton's warrant was made out, he is to be arrested this verynight! Entreaties there are and trepidation, of poor Wife, of Paris andFriends: Danton sat silent for a while; then answered, "Ils n'oseraient, They dare not;" and would take no measures. Murmuring "They dare not, "he goes to sleep as usual. And yet, on the morrow morning, strange rumour spreads over Paris City:Danton, Camille, Phelippeaux, Lacroix have been arrested overnight!It is verily so: the corridors of the Luxembourg were all crowded, Prisoners crowding forth to see this giant of the Revolution among them. "Messieurs, " said Danton politely, "I hoped soon to have got you allout of this: but here I am myself; and one sees not where it willend. "--Rumour may spread over Paris: the Convention clusters itselfinto groups; wide-eyed, whispering, "Danton arrested!" Who then is safe?Legendre, mounting the Tribune, utters, at his own peril, a feeble wordfor him; moving that he be heard at that Bar before indictment; butRobespierre frowns him down: "Did you hear Chabot, or Bazire? Would youhave two weights and measures?" Legendre cowers low; Danton, like theothers, must take his doom. Danton's Prison-thoughts were curious to have; but are not given in anyquantity: indeed few such remarkable men have been left so obscure to usas this Titan of the Revolution. He was heard to ejaculate: "Thistime twelvemonth, I was moving the creation of that same RevolutionaryTribunal. I crave pardon for it of God and man. They are all BrothersCain: Brissot would have had me guillotined as Robespierre now will. Ileave the whole business in a frightful welter (gachis epouvantable):not one of them understands anything of government. Robespierre willfollow me; I drag down Robespierre. O, it were better to be a poorfisherman than to meddle with governing of men. "--Camille's youngbeautiful Wife, who had made him rich not in money alone, hovers roundthe Luxembourg, like a disembodied spirit, day and night. Camille'sstolen letters to her still exist; stained with the mark of his tears. (Apercus sur Camille Desmoulins in Vieux Cordelier, Paris, 1825, pp. 1-29. ) "I carry my head like a Saint-Sacrament?" so Saint-Just was heardto mutter: "Perhaps he will carry his like a Saint-Dennis. " Unhappy Danton, thou still unhappier light Camille, once light Procureurde la Lanterne, ye also have arrived, then, at the Bourne of Creation, where, like Ulysses Polytlas at the limit and utmost Gades of hisvoyage, gazing into that dim Waste beyond Creation, a man does see theShade of his Mother, pale, ineffectual;--and days when his Mother nursedand wrapped him are all-too sternly contrasted with this day! Danton, Camille, Herault, Westermann, and the others, very strangely massed upwith Bazires, Swindler Chabots, Fabre d'Eglantines, Banker Freys, a mostmotley Batch, 'Fournee' as such things will be called, stand rankedat the Bar of Tinville. It is the 2d of April 1794. Danton has had butthree days to lie in Prison; for the time presses. What is your name? place of abode? and the like, Fouquier asks;according to formality. "My name is Danton, " answers he; "a nametolerably known in the Revolution: my abode will soon be Annihilation(dans le Neant); but I shall live in the Pantheon of History. " A manwill endeavour to say something forcible, be it by nature or not!Herault mentions epigrammatically that he "sat in this Hall, and wasdetested of Parlementeers. " Camille makes answer, "My age is that ofthe bon Sansculotte Jesus; an age fatal to Revolutionists. " O Camille, Camille! And yet in that Divine Transaction, let us say, there did lie, among other things, the fatallest Reproof ever uttered here below toWorldly Right-honourableness; 'the highest Fact, ' so devout Novaliscalls it, 'in the Rights of Man. ' Camille's real age, it would seem, isthirty-four. Danton is one year older. Some five months ago, the Trial of the Twenty-two Girondins was thegreatest that Fouquier had then done. But here is a still greater to do;a thing which tasks the whole faculty of Fouquier; which makes the veryheart of him waver. For it is the voice of Danton that reverberatesnow from these domes; in passionate words, piercing with their wildsincerity, winged with wrath. Your best Witnesses he shivers into ruinat one stroke. He demands that the Committee-men themselves come asWitnesses, as Accusers; he "will cover them with ignominy. " He raiseshis huge stature, he shakes his huge black head, fire flashes fromthe eyes of him, --piercing to all Republican hearts: so that the veryGalleries, though we filled them by ticket, murmur sympathy; and arelike to burst down, and raise the People, and deliver him! He complainsloudly that he is classed with Chabots, with swindling Stockjobbers;that his Indictment is a list of platitudes and horrors. "Danton hiddenon the Tenth of August?" reverberates he, with the roar of a lion in thetoils: "Where are the men that had to press Danton to shew himself, thatday? Where are these high-gifted souls of whom he borrowed energy? Letthem appear, these Accusers of mine: I have all the clearness of myself-possession when I demand them. I will unmask the three shallowscoundrels, " les trois plats coquins, Saint-Just, Couthon, Lebas, "whofawn on Robespierre, and lead him towards his destruction. Let themproduce themselves here; I will plunge them into Nothingness, out ofwhich they ought never to have risen. " The agitated President agitateshis bell; enjoins calmness, in a vehement manner: "What is it to theehow I defend myself?" cries the other: "the right of dooming me is thinealways. The voice of a man speaking for his honour and his life may welldrown the jingling of thy bell!" Thus Danton, higher and higher; tillthe lion voice of him 'dies away in his throat:' speech will not utterwhat is in that man. The Galleries murmur ominously; the first day'sSession is over. O Tinville, President Herman, what will ye do? They have two days moreof it, by strictest Revolutionary Law. The Galleries already murmur. If this Danton were to burst your mesh-work!--Very curious indeed toconsider. It turns on a hair: and what a Hoitytoity were there, Justiceand Culprit changing places; and the whole History of France runningchanged! For in France there is this Danton only that could still tryto govern France. He only, the wild amorphous Titan;--and perhaps thatother olive-complexioned individual, the Artillery Officer at Toulon, whom we left pushing his fortune in the South? On the evening of the second day, matters looking not better but worseand worse, Fouquier and Herman, distraction in their aspect, rush overto Salut Public. What is to be done? Salut Public rapidly concocts a newDecree; whereby if men 'insult Justice, ' they may be 'thrown out of theDebates. ' For indeed, withal, is there not 'a Plot in the LuxembourgPrison?' Ci-devant General Dillon, and others of the Suspect, plottingwith Camille's Wife to distribute assignats; to force the Prisons, overset the Republic? Citizen Laflotte, himself Suspect but desiringenfranchisement, has reported said Plot for us:--a report that may bearfruit! Enough, on the morrow morning, an obedient Convention passes thisDecree. Salut rushes off with it to the aid of Tinville, reduced nowalmost to extremities. And so, Hors des Debats, Out of the Debates, ye insolents! Policemen do your duty! In such manner, with a deadlifteffort, Salut, Tinville Herman, Leroi Dix-Aout, and all stanch jurymensetting heart and shoulder to it, the Jury becomes 'sufficientlyinstructed;' Sentence is passed, is sent by an Official, and torn andtrampled on: Death this day. It is the 5th of April, 1794. Camille'spoor Wife may cease hovering about this Prison. Nay let her kiss herpoor children; and prepare to enter it, and to follow!-- Danton carried a high look in the Death-cart. Not so Camille: it is butone week, and all is so topsy-turvied; angel Wife left weeping; love, riches, Revolutionary fame, left all at the Prison-gate; carnivorousRabble now howling round. Palpable, and yet incredible; like a madman'sdream! Camille struggles and writhes; his shoulders shuffle the loosecoat off them, which hangs knotted, the hands tied: "Calm my friend, "said Danton; "heed not that vile canaille (laissez la cette vilecanaille). " At the foot of the Scaffold, Danton was heard to ejaculate:"O my Wife, my well-beloved, I shall never see thee morethen!"--but, interrupting himself: "Danton, no weakness!" He said toHerault-Sechelles stepping forward to embrace him: "Our heads willmeet there, " in the Headsman's sack. His last words were to Samson theHeadsman himself: "Thou wilt shew my head to the people; it is worthshewing. " So passes, like a gigantic mass, of valour, ostentation, fury, affectionand wild revolutionary manhood, this Danton, to his unknown home. He wasof Arcis-sur-Aube; born of 'good farmer-people' there. He had manysins; but one worst sin he had not, that of Cant. No hollow Formalist, deceptive and self-deceptive, ghastly to the natural sense, was this;but a very Man: with all his dross he was a Man; fiery-real, from thegreat fire-bosom of Nature herself. He saved France from Brunswick; hewalked straight his own wild road, whither it led him. He may live forsome generations in the memory of men. Chapter 3. 6. III. The Tumbrils. Next week, it is still but the 10th of April, there comes a newNineteen; Chaumette, Gobel, Hebert's Widow, the Widow of Camille: thesealso roll their fated journey; black Death devours them. Mean Hebert'sWidow was weeping, Camille's Widow tried to speak comfort to her. Oye kind Heavens, azure, beautiful, eternal behind your tempests andTime-clouds, is there not pity for all! Gobel, it seems, was repentant;he begged absolution of a Priest; did as a Gobel best could. ForAnaxagoras Chaumette, the sleek head now stript of its bonnet rouge, what hope is there? Unless Death were 'an eternal sleep?' WretchedAnaxagoras, God shall judge thee, not I. Hebert, therefore, is gone, and the Hebertists; they that robbedChurches, and adored blue Reason in red nightcap. Great Danton, and theDantonists; they also are gone. Down to the catacombs; they are becomesilent men! Let no Paris Municipality, no Sect or Party of this hue orthat, resist the will of Robespierre and Salut. Mayor Pache, not promptenough in denouncing these Pitts Plots, may congratulate about themnow. Never so heartily; it skills not! His course likewise is to theLuxembourg. We appoint one Fleuriot-Lescot Interim-Mayor in his stead:an 'architect from Belgium, ' they say, this Fleuriot; he is a man onecan depend on. Our new Agent-National is Payan, lately Juryman; whosecynosure also is Robespierre. Thus then, we perceive, this confusedly electric Erebus-cloud ofRevolutionary Government has altered its shape somewhat. Two masses, orwings, belonging to it; an over-electric mass of Cordelier Rabids, andan under-electric of Dantonist Moderates and Clemency-men, --these twomasses, shooting bolts at one another, so to speak, have annihilatedone another. For the Erebus-cloud, as we often remark, is of suicidalnature; and, in jagged irregularity, darts its lightning withal intoitself. But now these two discrepant masses being mutually annihilated, it is as if the Erebus-cloud had got to internal composure; and did onlypour its hellfire lightning on the World that lay under it. In plainwords, Terror of the Guillotine was never terrible till now. Systole, diastole, swift and ever swifter goes the Axe of Samson. Indictmentscease by degrees to have so much as plausibility: Fouquier chooses fromthe Twelve houses of Arrest what he calls Batches, 'Fournees, ' ascore or more at a time; his Jurymen are charged to make feu de file, fire-filing till the ground be clear. Citizen Laflotte's report of Plotin the Luxembourg is verily bearing fruit! If no speakable charge existagainst a man, or Batch of men, Fouquier has always this: a Plot in thePrison. Swift and ever swifter goes Samson; up, finally, to three scoreand more at a Batch! It is the highday of Death: none but the Deadreturn not. O dusky d'Espremenil, what a day is this, the 22d of April, thy lastday! The Palais Hall here is the same stone Hall, where thou, five yearsago, stoodest perorating, amid endless pathos of rebellious Parlement, in the grey of the morning; bound to march with d'Agoust to the Islesof Hieres. The stones are the same stones: but the rest, Men, Rebellion, Pathos, Peroration, see! it has all fled, like a gibbering troop ofghosts, like the phantasms of a dying brain! With d'Espremenil, in thesame line of Tumbrils, goes the mournfullest medley. Chapelier goes, ci-devant popular President of the Constituent; whom the Menads andMaillard met in his carriage, on the Versailles Road. Thouret likewise, ci-devant President, father of Constitutional Law-acts; he whom we heardsaying, long since, with a loud voice, "The Constituent Assembly hasfulfilled its mission!" And the noble old Malesherbes, who defendedLouis and could not speak, like a grey old rock dissolving into suddenwater: he journeys here now, with his kindred, daughters, sons andgrandsons, his Lamoignons, Chateaubriands; silent, towards Death. --Oneyoung Chateaubriand alone is wandering amid the Natchez, by the roar ofNiagara Falls, the moan of endless forests: Welcome thou great Nature, savage, but not false, not unkind, unmotherly; no Formula thou, or rapidjangle of Hypothesis, Parliamentary Eloquence, Constitution-building andthe Guillotine; speak thou to me, O Mother, and sing my sick heart thymystic everlasting lullaby-song, and let all the rest be far!-- Another row of Tumbrils we must notice: that which holds Elizabeth, theSister of Louis. Her Trial was like the rest; for Plots, for Plots. Shewas among the kindliest, most innocent of women. There sat with her, amid four-and-twenty others, a once timorous Marchioness de Crussol;courageous now; expressing towards her the liveliest loyalty. At thefoot of the Scaffold, Elizabeth with tears in her eyes, thanked thisMarchioness; said she was grieved she could not reward her. "Ah, Madame, would your Royal Highness deign to embrace me, my wishes werecomplete!"--"Right willingly, Marquise de Crussol, and with my wholeheart. " (Montgaillard, iv. 200. ) Thus they: at the foot of the Scaffold. The Royal Family is now reduced to two: a girl and a little boy. Theboy, once named Dauphin, was taken from his Mother while she yet lived;and given to one Simon, by trade a Cordwainer, on service then aboutthe Temple-Prison, to bring him up in principles of Sansculottism. Simontaught him to drink, to swear, to sing the carmagnole. Simon is now goneto the Municipality: and the poor boy, hidden in a tower of the Temple, from which in his fright and bewilderment and early decrepitude hewishes not to stir out, lies perishing, 'his shirt not changed for sixmonths;' amid squalor and darkness, lamentably, (Duchesse d'Angouleme, Captivite a la Tour du Temple, pp. 37-71. )--so as none but poor FactoryChildren and the like are wont to perish, unlamented! The Spring sends its green leaves and bright weather, bright Maybrighter than ever: Death pauses not. Lavoisier famed Chemist, shall dieand not live: Chemist Lavoisier was Farmer-General Lavoisier too, andnow 'all the Farmers-General are arrested;' all, and shall give anaccount of their monies and incomings; and die for 'putting water in thetobacco' they sold. (Tribunal Revolutionnaire, du 8 Mai 1794, Moniteur, No. 231. ) Lavoisier begged a fortnight more of life, to finish someexperiments: but "the Republic does not need such;" the axe must doits work. Cynic Chamfort, reading these Inscriptions of Brotherhood orDeath, says "it is a Brotherhood of Cain:" arrested, then liberated;then about to be arrested again, this Chamfort cuts and slashes himselfwith frantic uncertain hand; gains, not without difficulty, the refugeof death. Condorcet has lurked deep, these many months; Argus-eyeswatching and searching for him. His concealment is become dangerousto others and himself; he has to fly again, to skulk, round Paris, in thickets and stone-quarries. And so at the Village of Clamars, onebleared May morning, there enters a Figure, ragged, rough-bearded, hunger-stricken; asks breakfast in the tavern there. Suspect, by thelook of him! "Servant out of place, sayest thou?" Committee-Presidentof Forty-Sous finds a Latin Horace on him: "Art thou not one of thoseCi-devants that were wont to keep servants? Suspect!" He is haledforthwith, breakfast unfinished, towards Bourg-la-Reine, on foot: hefaints with exhaustion; is set on a peasant's horse; is flung into hisdamp prison-cell: on the morrow, recollecting him, you enter; Condorcetlies dead on the floor. They die fast, and disappear: the Notabilitiesof France disappear, one after one, like lights in a Theatre, which youare snuffing out. Under which circumstances, is it not singular, and almost touching, tosee Paris City drawn out, in the meek May nights, in civic ceremony, which they call 'Souper Fraternel, Brotherly Supper? Spontaneous, orpartially spontaneous, in the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth nights ofthis May month, it is seen. Along the Rue Saint-Honore, and main Streetsand Spaces, each Citoyen brings forth what of supper the stingy Maximumhas yielded him, to the open air; joins it to his neighbour's supper;and with common table, cheerful light burning frequent, and what duemodicum of cut-glasses and other garnish and relish is convenient, theyeat frugally together, under the kind stars. (Tableaux de la Revolution, para Soupers Fraternels; Mercier, ii. 150. ) See it O Night! Withcheerfully pledged wine-cup, hobnobbing to the Reign of Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood, with their wives in best ribands, with theirlittle ones romping round, the Citoyens, in frugal Love-feast, sitthere. Night in her wide empire sees nothing similar. O my brothers, whyis the reign of Brotherhood not come! It is come, it shall come, say theCitoyens frugally hobnobbing. --Ah me! these everlasting stars, do theynot look down 'like glistening eyes, bright with immortal pity, over thelot of man!'-- One lamentable thing, however, is, that individuals will attemptassassination--of Representatives of the People. Representative Collot, Member even of Salut, returning home, 'about one in the morning, 'probably touched with liquor, as he is apt to be, meets on the stairs, the cry "Scelerat!" and also the snap of a pistol: which latterflashes in the pan; disclosing to him, momentarily, a pair of truculentsaucer-eyes, swart grim-clenched countenance; recognisable as thatof our little fellow-lodger, Citoyen Amiral, formerly 'a clerk in theLotteries!; Collot shouts Murder, with lungs fit to awaken all the RueFavart; Amiral snaps a second time; a second time flashes in the pan;then darts up into his apartment; and, after there firing, still withinadequate effect, one musket at himself and another at his captor, is clutched and locked in Prison. (Riouffe, p. 73; Deux Amis, xii. 298-302. ) An indignant little man this Amiral, of Southern temper andcomplexion, of 'considerable muscular force. ' He denies not that hemeant to "purge France of a tyrant;" nay avows that he had an eye to theIncorruptible himself, but took Collot as more convenient! Rumour enough hereupon; heaven-high congratulation of Collot, fraternalembracing, at the Jacobins, and elsewhere. And yet, it would seem theassassin-mood proves catching. Two days more, it is still but the 23dof May, and towards nine in the evening, Cecile Renault, Paper-dealer'sdaughter, a young woman of soft blooming look, presents herself at theCabinet-maker's in the Rue Saint-Honore; desires to see Robespierre. Robespierre cannot be seen: she grumbles irreverently. They lay hold ofher. She has left a basket in a shop hard by: in the basket are femalechange of raiment and two knives! Poor Cecile, examined by Committee, declares she "wanted to see what a tyrant was like:" the change ofraiment was "for my own use in the place I am surely going to. "--"Whatplace?"--"Prison; and then the Guillotine, " answered she. --Such thingscome of Charlotte Corday; in a people prone to imitation, and monomania!Swart choleric men try Charlotte's feat, and their pistols miss fire;soft blooming young women try it, and, only half-resolute, leave theirknives in a shop. O Pitt, and ye Faction of the Stranger, shall the Republic never haverest; but be torn continually by baited springs, by wires of explosivespring-guns? Swart Amiral, fair young Cecile, and all that knew them, and many that did not know them, lie locked, waiting the scrutiny ofTinville. Chapter 3. 6. IV. Mumbo-Jumbo. But on the day they call Decadi, New-Sabbath, 20 Prairial, 8th June byold style, what thing is this going forward, in the Jardin National, whilom Tuileries Garden? All the world is there, in holydays clothes: (Vilate, Causes Secretes dela Revolution de 9 Thermidor. ) foul linen went out with the Hebertists;nay Robespierre, for one, would never once countenance that; but wentalways elegant and frizzled, not without vanity even, --and had his roomhung round with seagreen Portraits and Busts. In holyday clothes, wesay, are the innumerable Citoyens and Citoyennes: the weather is of thebrightest; cheerful expectation lights all countenances. Juryman Vilategives breakfast to many a Deputy, in his official Apartment, in thePavillon ci-devant of Flora; rejoices in the bright-looking multitudes, in the brightness of leafy June, in the auspicious Decadi, orNew-Sabbath. This day, if it please Heaven, we are to have, on improvedAnti-Chaumette principles: a New Religion. Catholicism being burned out, and Reason-worship guillotined, was therenot need of one? Incorruptible Robespierre, not unlike the Ancients, asLegislator of a free people will now also be Priest and Prophet. He hasdonned his sky-blue coat, made for the occasion; white silk waistcoatbroidered with silver, black silk breeches, white stockings, shoe-buckles of gold. He is President of the Convention; he has madethe Convention decree, so they name it, decreter the 'Existence of theSupreme Being, ' and likewise 'ce principe consolateur of the Immortalityof the Soul. ' These consolatory principles, the basis of rationalRepublican Religion, are getting decreed; and here, on this blessedDecadi, by help of Heaven and Painter David, is to be our first act ofworship. See, accordingly, how after Decree passed, and what has been called'the scraggiest Prophetic Discourse ever uttered by man, '--MahometRobespierre, in sky-blue coat and black breeches, frizzled and powderedto perfection, bearing in his hand a bouquet of flowers and wheat-ears, issues proudly from the Convention Hall; Convention following him, yet, as is remarked, with an interval. Amphitheatre has been raised, or atleast Monticule or Elevation; hideous Statues of Atheism, Anarchy andsuch like, thanks to Heaven and Painter David, strike abhorrence intothe heart. Unluckily however, our Monticule is too small. On the top ofit not half of us can stand; wherefore there arises indecent shoving, nay treasonous irreverent growling. Peace, thou Bourdon de l'Oise;peace, or it may be worse for thee! The seagreen Pontiff takes a torch, Painter David handing it; mouthssome other froth-rant of vocables, which happily one cannot hear;strides resolutely forward, in sight of expectant France; sets his torchto Atheism and Company, which are but made of pasteboard steeped inturpentine. They burn up rapidly; and, from within, there rises 'bymachinery' an incombustible Statue of Wisdom, which, by ill hap, getsbesmoked a little; but does stand there visible in as serene attitude asit can. And then? Why, then, there is other Processioning, scraggy Discoursing, and--this is our Feast of the Etre Supreme; our new Religion, better orworse, is come!--Look at it one moment, O Reader, not two. The Shabbiestpage of Human Annals: or is there, that thou wottest of, one shabbier?Mumbo-Jumbo of the African woods to me seems venerable beside this newDeity of Robespierre; for this is a conscious Mumbo-Jumbo, and knowsthat he is machinery. O seagreen Prophet, unhappiest of windbags blownnigh to bursting, what distracted Chimera among realities are thougrowing to! This then, this common pitch-link for artificial fireworksof turpentine and pasteboard; this is the miraculous Aaron's Rod thouwilt stretch over a hag-ridden hell-ridden France, and bid her plaguescease? Vanish, thou and it!--"Avec ton Etre Supreme, " said Billaud, "tucommences m'embeter: With thy Etre Supreme thou beginnest to be abore to me. " (See Vilate, Causes Secretes. Vilate's Narrative is verycurious; but is not to be taken as true, without sifting; being, atbottom, in spite of its title, not a Narrative but a Pleading. ) Catherine Theot, on the other hand, 'an ancient serving-maidseventy-nine years of age, ' inured to Prophecy and the Bastille from ofold, sits, in an upper room in the Rue-de-Contrescarpe, poring overthe Book of Revelations, with an eye to Robespierre; finds that thisastonishing thrice-potent Maximilien really is the Man spoken of byProphets, who is to make the Earth young again. With her sit devout oldMarchionesses, ci-devant honourable women; among whom Old-ConstituentDom Gerle, with his addle head, cannot be wanting. They sit there, inthe Rue-de-Contrescarpe; in mysterious adoration: Mumbo is Mumbo, andRobespierre is his Prophet. A conspicuous man this Robespierre. He hashis volunteer Bodyguard of Tappe-durs, let us say Strike-sharps, fiercePatriots with feruled sticks; and Jacobins kissing the hem of hisgarment. He enjoys the admiration of many, the worship of some; and iswell worth the wonder of one and all. The grand question and hope, however, is: Will not this Feast of theTuileries Mumbo-Jumbo be a sign perhaps that the Guillotine is to abate?Far enough from that! Precisely on the second day after it, Couthon, oneof the 'three shallow scoundrels, ' gets himself lifted into the Tribune;produces a bundle of papers. Couthon proposes that, as Plots stillabound, the Law of the Suspect shall have extension, and Arrestment newvigour and facility. Further that, as in such case business is liketo be heavy, our Revolutionary Tribunal too shall have extension; bedivided, say, into Four Tribunals, each with its President, each withits Fouquier or Substitute of Fouquier, all labouring at once, and anyremnant of shackle or dilatory formality be struck off: in this way itmay perhaps still overtake the work. Such is Couthon's Decree of theTwenty-second Prairial, famed in those times. At hearing of which Decreethe very Mountain gasped, awestruck; and one Ruamps ventured to saythat if it passed without adjournment and discussion, he, as oneRepresentative, "would blow his brains out. " Vain saying! TheIncorruptible knit his brows; spoke a prophetic fateful word or two: theLaw of Prairial is Law; Ruamps glad to leave his rash brains where theyare. Death, then, and always Death! Even so. Fouquier is enlarginghis borders; making room for Batches of a Hundred and fifty atonce;--getting a Guillotine set up, of improved velocity, and to workunder cover, in the apartment close by. So that Salut itself has tointervene, and forbid him: "Wilt thou demoralise the Guillotine, " asksCollot, reproachfully, "demoraliser le supplice!" There is indeed danger of that; were not the Republican faith great, itwere already done. See, for example, on the 17th of June, what a Batch, Fifty-four at once! Swart Amiral is here, he of the pistol that missedfire; young Cecile Renault, with her father, family, entire kith andkin; the widow of d'Espremenil; old M. De Sombreuil of the Invalides, with his Son, --poor old Sombreuil, seventy-three years old, hisDaughter saved him in September, and it was but for this. Faction of theStranger, fifty-four of them! In red shirts and smocks, as Assassinsand Faction of the Stranger, they flit along there; red balefulPhantasmagory, towards the land of Phantoms. Meanwhile will not the people of the Place de la Revolution, theinhabitants along the Rue Saint-Honore, as these continual Tumbrilspass, begin to look gloomy? Republicans too have bowels. The Guillotineis shifted, then again shifted; finally set up at the remote extremityof the South-East: (Montgaillard, iv. 237. ) Suburbs Saint-Antoine andSaint-Marceau it is to be hoped, if they have bowels, have very toughones. Chapter 3. 6. V. The Prisons. It is time now, however, to cast a glance into the Prisons. WhenDesmoulins moved for his Committee of Mercy, these Twelve Houses ofArrest held five thousand persons. Continually arriving since then, there have now accumulated twelve thousand. They are Ci-devants, Royalists; in far greater part, they are Republicans, of variousGirondin, Fayettish, Un-Jacobin colour. Perhaps no human Habitation orPrison ever equalled in squalor, in noisome horror, these Twelve Housesof Arrest. There exist records of personal experience in them Memoiressur les Prisons; one of the strangest Chapters in the Biography of Man. Very singular to look into it: how a kind of order rises up in allconditions of human existence; and wherever two or three are gatheredtogether, there are formed modes of existing together, habitudes, observances, nay gracefulnesses, joys! Citoyen Coitant will explainfully how our lean dinner, of herbs and carrion, was consumed notwithout politeness and place-aux-dames: how Seigneur and Shoeblack, Duchess and Doll-Tearsheet, flung pellmell into a heap, rankedthemselves according to method: at what hour 'the Citoyennes took totheir needlework;' and we, yielding the chairs to them, endeavoured totalk gallantly in a standing posture, or even to sing and harp moreor less. Jealousies, enmities are not wanting; nor flirtations, of aneffective character. Alas, by degrees, even needlework must cease: Plot in the Prison rises, by Citoyen Laflotte and Preternatural Suspicion. Suspicious Municipalitysnatches from us all implements; all money and possession, of means ormetal, is ruthlessly searched for, in pocket, in pillow and paillasse, and snatched away; red-capped Commissaries entering every cell!Indignation, temporary desperation, at robbery of its very thimble, fills the gentle heart. Old Nuns shriek shrill discord; demand to bekilled forthwith. No help from shrieking! Better was that of the twoshifty male Citizens, who, eager to preserve an implement or two, wereit but a pipe-picker, or needle to darn hose with, determined to defendthemselves: by tobacco. Swift then, as your fell Red Caps are heard inthe Corridor rummaging and slamming, the two Citoyens light their pipesand begin smoking. Thick darkness envelops them. The Red Nightcaps, opening the cell, breathe but one mouthful; burst forth into chorusof barking and coughing. "Quoi, Messieurs, " cry the two Citoyens, "Youdon't smoke? Is the pipe disagreeable! Est-ce que vous ne fumez pas?"But the Red Nightcaps have fled, with slight search: "Vous n'aimezpas la pipe?" cry the Citoyens, as their door slams-to again. (Maisond'Arret de Port-Libre, par Coittant, &c. Memoires sur les Prisons, ii. )My poor brother Citoyens, O surely, in a reign of Brotherhood, you arenot the two I would guillotine! Rigour grows, stiffens into horrid tyranny; Plot in the Prison gettingever riper. This Plot in the Prison, as we said, is now the stereotypeformula of Tinville: against whomsoever he knows no crime, this is aready-made crime. His Judgment-bar has become unspeakable; a recognisedmockery; known only as the wicket one passes through, towards Death. HisIndictments are drawn out in blank; you insert the Names after. He hashis moutons, detestable traitor jackalls, who report and bear witness;that they themselves may be allowed to live, --for a time. His Fournees, says the reproachful Collot, 'shall in no case exceed three-score;' thatis his maximum. Nightly come his Tumbrils to the Luxembourg, with thefatal Roll-call; list of the Fournee of to-morrow. Men rush towards theGrate; listen, if their name be in it? One deep-drawn breath, when thename is not in: we live still one day! And yet some score or scores ofnames were in. Quick these; they clasp their loved ones to their heart, one last time; with brief adieu, wet-eyed or dry-eyed, they mount, andare away. This night to the Conciergerie; through the Palais misnamed ofJustice, to the Guillotine to-morrow. Recklessness, defiant levity, the Stoicism if not of strength yet ofweakness, has possessed all hearts. Weak women and Ci-devants, theirlocks not yet made into blond perukes, their skins not yet tanned intobreeches, are accustomed to 'act the Guillotine' by way of pastime. Infantastic mummery, with towel-turbans, blanket-ermine, a mock Sanhedrimof Judges sits, a mock Tinville pleads; a culprit is doomed, isguillotined by the oversetting of two chairs. Sometimes we carry itfarther: Tinville himself, in his turn, is doomed, and not to theGuillotine alone. With blackened face, hirsute, horned, a shaggy Satansnatches him not unshrieking; shews him, with outstretched arm andvoice, the fire that is not quenched, the worm that dies not; themonotony of Hell-pain, and the What hour? answered by, It is Eternity!(Montgaillard, iv. 218; Riouffe, p. 273. ) And still the Prisons fill fuller, and still the Guillotine goes faster. On all high roads march flights of Prisoners, wending towards Paris. Not Ci-devants now; they, the noisy of them, are mown down; it isRepublicans now. Chained two and two they march; in exasperated moments, singing their Marseillaise. A hundred and thirty-two men of Nantes forinstance, march towards Paris, in these same days: Republicans, orsay even Jacobins to the marrow of the bone; but Jacobins who had notapproved Noyading. (Voyage de Cent Trente-deux Nantais, Prisons, ii. 288-335. ) Vive la Republique rises from them in all streets of towns:they rest by night, in unutterable noisome dens, crowded to choking; oneor two dead on the morrow. They are wayworn, weary of heart; can onlyshout: Live the Republic; we, as under horrid enchantment, dying in thisway for it! Some Four Hundred Priests, of whom also there is record, ride at anchor, 'in the roads of the Isle of Aix, ' long months; looking out on misery, vacuity, waste Sands of Oleron and the ever-moaning brine. Ragged, sordid, hungry; wasted to shadows: eating their unclean ration on deck, circularly, in parties of a dozen, with finger and thumb; beating theirscandalous clothes between two stones; choked in horrible miasmata, closed under hatches, seventy of them in a berth, through night; so thatthe 'aged Priest is found lying dead in the morning, in the attitude ofprayer!' (Relation de ce qu'ont souffert pour la Religion lesPretres deportes en 1794, dans la rade de l'ile d'Aix, Prisons, ii. 387-485. )--How long, O Lord! Not forever; no. All Anarchy, all Evil, Injustice, is, by the nature ofit, dragon's-teeth; suicidal, and cannot endure. Chapter 3. 6. VI. To finish the Terror. It is very remarkable, indeed, that since the Etre-Supreme Feast, andthe sublime continued harangues on it, which Billaud feared wouldbecome a bore to him, Robespierre has gone little to Committee; but heldhimself apart, as if in a kind of pet. Nay they have made a Report onthat old Catherine Theot, and her Regenerative Man spoken of by theProphets; not in the best spirit. This Theot mystery they affect toregard as a Plot; but have evidently introduced a vein of satire, ofirreverent banter, not against the Spinster alone, but obliquely againsther Regenerative Man! Barrere's light pen was perhaps at the bottom ofit: read through the solemn snuffling organs of old Vadier of theSurete Generale, the Theot Report had its effect; wrinkling the generalRepublican visage into an iron grin. Ought these things to be? We note further that among the Prisoners in the Twelve Houses of Arrest, there is one whom we have seen before. Senhora Fontenai, born Cabarus, the fair Proserpine whom Representative Tallien Pluto-like did gatherat Bourdeaux, not without effect on himself! Tallien is home, by recall, long since, from Bourdeaux; and in the most alarming position. Vain thathe sounded, louder even than ever, the note of Jacobinism, to hide pastshortcomings: the Jacobins purged him out; two times has Robespierregrowled at him words of omen from the Convention Tribune. And now hisfair Cabarus, hit by denunciation, lies Arrested, Suspect, in spite ofall he could do!--Shut in horrid pinfold of death, the Senhorasmuggles out to her red-gloomy Tallien the most pressing entreaties andconjurings: Save me; save thyself. Seest thou not that thy own head isdoomed; thou with a too fiery audacity; a Dantonist withal; against whomlie grudges? Are ye not all doomed, as in the Polyphemus Cavern; thefawningest slave of you will be but eaten last!--Tallien feels with ashudder that it is true. Tallien has had words of omen, Bourdon has hadwords, Freron is hated and Barras: each man 'feels his head if it yetstick on his shoulders. ' Meanwhile Robespierre, we still observe, goes little to Convention, not at all to Committee; speaks nothing except to his Jacobin House ofLords, amid his bodyguard of Tappe-durs. These 'forty-days, ' for we arenow far in July, he has not shewed face in Committee; could only workthere by his three shallow scoundrels, and the terror there was of him. The Incorruptible himself sits apart; or is seen stalking in solitaryplaces in the fields, with an intensely meditative air; some say, 'witheyes red-spotted, ' (Deux Amis, xii. 347-73. ) fruit of extreme bile: thelamentablest seagreen Chimera that walks the Earth that July! O haplessChimera; for thou too hadst a life, and a heart of flesh, --what is thisthe stern gods, seeming to smile all the way, have led and let thee to!Art not thou he who, few years ago, was a young Advocate of promise; andgave up the Arras Judgeship rather than sentence one man to die?-- What his thoughts might be? His plans for finishing the Terror? Oneknows not. Dim vestiges there flit of Agrarian Law; a victoriousSansculottism become Landed Proprietor; old Soldiers sitting in NationalMansions, in Hospital Palaces of Chambord and Chantilly; peace bought byvictory; breaches healed by Feast of Etre Supreme;--and so, through seasof blood, to Equality, Frugality, worksome Blessedness, Fraternity, and Republic of the virtues! Blessed shore, of such a sea of Aristocratblood: but how to land on it? Through one last wave: blood of corruptSansculottists; traitorous or semi-traitorous Conventionals, rebelliousTalliens, Billauds, to whom with my Etre Supreme I have become a bore;with my Apocalyptic Old Woman a laughing-stock!--So stalks he, this poorRobespierre, like a seagreen ghost through the blooming July. Vestigesof schemes flit dim. But what his schemes or his thoughts were willnever be known to man. New Catacombs, some say, are digging for a huge simultaneous butchery. Convention to be butchered, down to the right pitch, by General Henriotand Company: Jacobin House of Lords made dominant; and RobespierreDictator. (Deux Amis, xii. 350-8. ) There is actually, or else there isnot actually, a List made out; which the Hairdresser has got eye on, ashe frizzled the Incorruptible locks. Each man asks himself, Is it I? Nay, as Tradition and rumour of Anecdote still convey it, there was aremarkable bachelor's dinner one hot day at Barrere's. For doubt not, OReader, this Barrere and others of them gave dinners; had 'country-houseat Clichy, ' with elegant enough sumptuosities, and pleasureshigh-rouged! (See Vilate. ) But at this dinner we speak of, the day beingso hot, it is said, the guests all stript their coats, and left them inthe drawing-room: whereupon Carnot glided out; groped in Robespierre'spocket; found a list of Forty, his own name among them; and tarried notat the wine-cup that day!--Ye must bestir yourselves, O Friends; ye dullFrogs of the Marsh, mute ever since Girondism sank under, even ye nowmust croak or die! Councils are held, with word and beck; nocturnal, mysterious as death. Does not a feline Maximilien stalk there; voicelessas yet; his green eyes red-spotted; back bent, and hair up? RashTallien, with his rash temper and audacity of tongue; he shall bell thecat. Fix a day; and be it soon, lest never! Lo, before the fixed day, on the day which they call Eighth ofThermidor, 26th July 1794, Robespierre himself reappears in Convention;mounts to the Tribune! The biliary face seems clouded with new gloom;judge whether your Talliens, Bourdons listened with interest. It isa voice bodeful of death or of life. Long-winded, unmelodious as thescreech-owl's, sounds that prophetic voice: Degenerate conditionof Republican spirit; corrupt moderatism; Surete, Salut Committeesthemselves infected; back-sliding on this hand and on that; I, Maximilien, alone left incorruptible, ready to die at a moment'swarning. For all which what remedy is there? The Guillotine; new vigourto the all-healing Guillotine: death to traitors of every hue! So singsthe prophetic voice; into its Convention sounding-board. The old songthis: but to-day, O Heavens! has the sounding-board ceased to act? Thereis not resonance in this Convention; there is, so to speak, a gasp ofsilence; nay a certain grating of one knows not what!--Lecointre, ourold Draper of Versailles, in these questionable circumstances, seesnothing he can do so safe as rise, 'insidiously' or not insidiously, and move, according to established wont, that the Robespierre Speechbe 'printed and sent to the Departments. ' Hark: gratings, even ofdissonance! Honourable Members hint dissonance; Committee-Members, inculpated in the Speech, utter dissonance; demand 'delay in printing. 'Ever higher rises the note of dissonance; inquiry is even made by EditorFreron: "What has become of the Liberty of Opinions in this Convention?"The Order to print and transmit, which had got passed, is rescinded. Robespierre, greener than ever before, has to retire, foiled; discerningthat it is mutiny, that evil is nigh. Mutiny is a thing of the fatallest nature in all enterprises whatsoever;a thing so incalculable, swift-frightful; not to be dealt with infright. But mutiny in a Robespierre Convention, above all, --it is likefire seen sputtering in the ship's powder-room! One death-defiant plungeat it, this moment, and you may still tread it out: hesitate till nextmoment, --ship and ship's captain, crew and cargo are shivered far; theship's voyage has suddenly ended between sea and sky. If Robespierrecan, to-night, produce his Henriot and Company, and get his work done bythem, he and Sansculottism may still subsist some time; if not, probablynot. Oliver Cromwell, when that Agitator Serjeant stept forth fromthe ranks, with plea of grievances, and began gesticulatingand demonstrating, as the mouthpiece of Thousands expectantthere, --discerned, with those truculent eyes of his, how the matterlay; plucked a pistol from his holsters; blew Agitator and Agitationinstantly out. Noll was a man fit for such things. Robespierre, for his part, glides over at evening to his Jacobin Houseof Lords; unfolds there, instead of some adequate resolution, his woes, his uncommon virtues, incorruptibilities; then, secondly, his rejectedscreech-owl Oration;--reads this latter over again; and declares thathe is ready to die at a moment's warning. Thou shalt not die! shoutsJacobinism from its thousand throats. "Robespierre, I will drink thehemlock with thee, " cries Painter David, "Je boirai la cigue avectoi;"--a thing not essential to do, but which, in the fire of themoment, can be said. Our Jacobin sounding-board, therefore, does act! Applauses heaven-highcover the rejected Oration; fire-eyed fury lights all Jacobin features:Insurrection a sacred duty; the Convention to be purged; SovereignPeople under Henriot and Municipality; we will make a new June-Secondof it: to your tents, O Israel! In this key pipes Jacobinism; in sheertumult of revolt. Let Tallien and all Opposition men make off. Collotd'Herbois, though of the supreme Salut, and so lately near shot, iselbowed, bullied; is glad to escape alive. Entering Committee-room ofSalut, all dishevelled, he finds sleek sombre Saint-Just there, among the rest; who in his sleek way asks, "What is passing at theJacobins?"--"What is passing?" repeats Collot, in the unhistrionicCambyses' vein: "What is passing? Nothing but revolt and horrors arepassing. Ye want our lives; ye shall not have them. " Saint-Just stuttersat such Cambyses'-oratory; takes his hat to withdraw. That report hehad been speaking of, Report on Republican Things in General we may say, which is to be read in Convention on the morrow, he cannot shew it themthis moment: a friend has it; he, Saint-Just, will get it, and send it, were he once home. Once home, he sends not it, but an answer that hewill not send it; that they will hear it from the Tribune to-morrow. Let every man, therefore, according to a well-known good-advice, 'prayto Heaven, and keep his powder dry!' Paris, on the morrow, will see athing. Swift scouts fly dim or invisible, all night, from Surete andSalut; from conclave to conclave; from Mother Society to Townhall. Sleep, can it fall on the eyes of Talliens, Frerons, Collots? PuissantHenriot, Mayor Fleuriot, Judge Coffinhal, Procureur Payan, Robespierreand all the Jacobins are getting ready. Chapter 3. 6. VII. Go down to. Tallien's eyes beamed bright, on the morrow, Ninth of Thermidor 'aboutnine o'clock, ' to see that the Convention had actually met. Paris is inrumour: but at least we are met, in Legal Convention here; we havenot been snatched seriatim; treated with a Pride's Purge at the door. "Allons, brave men of the Plain, " late Frogs of the Marsh! cried Tallienwith a squeeze of the hand, as he passed in; Saint-Just's sonorous organbeing now audible from the Tribune, and the game of games begun. Saint-Just is verily reading that Report of his; green Vengeance, inthe shape of Robespierre, watching nigh. Behold, however, Saint-Just hasread but few sentences, when interruption rises, rapid crescendo;when Tallien starts to his feet, and Billaud, and this man starts andthat, --and Tallien, a second time, with his: "Citoyens, at the Jacobinslast night, I trembled for the Republic. I said to myself, if theConvention dare not strike the Tyrant, then I myself dare; and withthis I will do it, if need be, " said he, whisking out a clear-gleamingDagger, and brandishing it there: the Steel of Brutus, as we callit. Whereat we all bellow, and brandish, impetuous acclaim. "Tyranny;Dictatorship! Triumvirat!" And the Salut Committee-men accuse, andall men accuse, and uproar, and impetuously acclaim. And Saint-Just isstanding motionless, pale of face; Couthon ejaculating, "Triumvir?" witha look at his paralytic legs. And Robespierre is struggling to speak, but President Thuriot is jingling the bell against him, but the Hall issounding against him like an Aeolus-Hall: and Robespierre is mountingthe Tribune-steps and descending again; going and coming, like to chokewith rage, terror, desperation:--and mutiny is the order of the day!(Moniteur, Nos. 311, 312; Debats, iv. 421-42; Deux Amis, xii. 390-411. ) O President Thuriot, thou that wert Elector Thuriot, and from theBastille battlements sawest Saint-Antoine rising like the Ocean-tide, and hast seen much since, sawest thou ever the like of this? Jingle ofbell, which thou jinglest against Robespierre, is hardly audible amidthe Bedlam-storm; and men rage for life. "President of Assassins, "shrieks Robespierre, "I demand speech of thee for the last time!" Itcannot be had. "To you, O virtuous men of the Plain, " cries he, findingaudience one moment, "I appeal to you!" The virtuous men of the Plainsit silent as stones. And Thuriot's bell jingles, and the Hall soundslike Aeolus's Hall. Robespierre's frothing lips are grown 'blue;' histongue dry, cleaving to the roof of his mouth. "The blood of Dantonchokes him, " cry they. "Accusation! Decree of Accusation!" Thuriotswiftly puts that question. Accusation passes; the incorruptibleMaximilien is decreed Accused. "I demand to share my Brother's fate, as I have striven to share hisvirtues, " cries Augustin, the Younger Robespierre: Augustin also isdecreed. And Couthon, and Saint-Just, and Lebas, they are all decreed;and packed forth, --not without difficulty, the Ushers almosttrembling to obey. Triumvirat and Company are packed forth, into SalutCommittee-room; their tongue cleaving to the roof of their mouth. Youhave but to summon the Municipality; to cashier Commandant Henriot, andlaunch Arrest at him; to regular formalities; hand Tinville his victims. It is noon: the Aeolus-Hall has delivered itself; blows now victorious, harmonious, as one irresistible wind. And so the work is finished? One thinks so; and yet it is not so. Alas, there is yet but the first-act finished; three or four other acts stillto come; and an uncertain catastrophe! A huge City holds in it so manyconfusions: seven hundred thousand human heads; not one of whichknows what its neighbour is doing, nay not what itself is doing. --See, accordingly, about three in the afternoon, Commandant Henriot, howinstead of sitting cashiered, arrested, he gallops along the Quais, followed by Municipal Gendarmes, 'trampling down several persons!' Forthe Townhall sits deliberating, openly insurgent: Barriers to be shut;no Gaoler to admit any Prisoner this day;--and Henriot is gallopingtowards the Tuileries, to deliver Robespierre. On the Quai de laFerraillerie, a young Citoyen, walking with his wife, says aloud:"Gendarmes, that man is not your Commandant; he is under arrest. " TheGendarmes strike down the young Citoyen with the flat of their swords. (Precis des evenemens du Neuf Thermidor, par C. A. Meda, ancien Gendarme, Paris, 1825. ) Representatives themselves (as Merlin the Thionviller) who accost him, this puissant Henriot flings into guardhouses. He bursts towards theTuileries Committee-room, "to speak with Robespierre:" with difficulty, the Ushers and Tuileries Gendarmes, earnestly pleading and drawingsabre, seize this Henriot; get the Henriot Gendarmes persuaded not tofight; get Robespierre and Company packed into hackney-coaches, sent offunder escort, to the Luxembourg and other Prisons. This then is the end?May not an exhausted Convention adjourn now, for a little repose andsustenance, 'at five o'clock?' An exhausted Convention did it; and repented it. The end was not come;only the end of the second-act. Hark, while exhausted Representativessit at victuals, --tocsin bursting from all steeples, drums rolling, inthe summer evening: Judge Coffinhal is galloping with new Gendarmes todeliver Henriot from Tuileries Committee-room; and does deliver him!Puissant Henriot vaults on horseback; sets to haranguing the TuileriesGendarmes; corrupts the Tuileries Gendarmes too; trots off with them toTownhall. Alas, and Robespierre is not in Prison: the Gaoler shewed hisMunicipal order, durst not on pain of his life, admit any Prisoner; theRobespierre Hackney-coaches, in confused jangle and whirl of uncertainGendarmes, have floated safe--into the Townhall! There sit Robespierreand Company, embraced by Municipals and Jacobins, in sacred right ofInsurrection; redacting Proclamations; sounding tocsins; correspondingwith Sections and Mother Society. Is not here a pretty enough third-actof a natural Greek Drama; catastrophe more uncertain than ever? The hasty Convention rushes together again, in the ominous nightfall:President Collot, for the chair is his, enters with long strides, paleness on his face; claps on his hat; says with solemn tone:"Citoyens, armed Villains have beset the Committee-rooms, and gotpossession of them. The hour is come, to die at our post!" "Oui, " answerone and all: "We swear it!" It is no rhodomontade, this time, but a sadfact and necessity; unless we do at our posts, we must verily die! Swifttherefore, Robespierre, Henriot, the Municipality, are declared Rebels;put Hors la Loi, Out of Law. Better still, we appoint Barras Commandantof what Armed-Force is to be had; send Missionary Representatives toall Sections and quarters, to preach, and raise force; will die at leastwith harness on our back. What a distracted City; men riding and running, reporting andhearsaying; the Hour clearly in travail, --child not to be named tillborn! The poor Prisoners in the Luxembourg hear the rumour; tremble fora new September. They see men making signals to them, on skylights androofs, apparently signals of hope; cannot in the least make out whatit is. (Memoires sur les Prisons, ii. 277. ) We observe however, in theeventide, as usual, the Death-tumbrils faring South-eastward, throughSaint-Antoine, towards their Barrier du Trone. Saint-Antoine's toughbowels melt; Saint-Antoine surrounds the Tumbrils; says, It shallnot be. O Heavens, why should it! Henriot and Gendarmes, scouring thestreets that way, bellow, with waved sabres, that it must. Quit hope, yepoor Doomed! The Tumbrils move on. But in this set of Tumbrils there are two other things notable: onenotable person; and one want of a notable person. The notable personis Lieutenant-General Loiserolles, a nobleman by birth, and by nature;laying down his life here for his son. In the Prison of Saint-Lazare, the night before last, hurrying to the Grate to hear the Death-listread, he caught the name of his son. The son was asleep at the moment. "I am Loiserolles, " cried the old man: at Tinville's bar, an error inthe Christian name is little; small objection was made. The want of thenotable person, again, is that of Deputy Paine! Paine has sat in theLuxembourg since January; and seemed forgotten; but Fouquier had prickedhim at last. The Turnkey, List in hand, is marking with chalk the outerdoors of to-morrow's Fournee. Paine's outer door happened to be open, turned back on the wall; the Turnkey marked it on the side next him, and hurried on: another Turnkey came, and shut it; no chalk-mark nowvisible, the Fournee went without Paine. Paine's life lay not there. -- Our fifth-act, of this natural Greek Drama, with its natural unities, can only be painted in gross; somewhat as that antique Painter, drivendesperate, did the foam! For through this blessed July night, there isclangour, confusion very great, of marching troops; of Sections goingthis way, Sections going that; of Missionary Representatives readingProclamations by torchlight; Missionary Legendre, who has raised forcesomewhere, emptying out the Jacobins, and flinging their key on theConvention table: "I have locked their door; it shall be Virtue thatre-opens it. " Paris, we say, is set against itself, rushing confused, as Ocean-currents do; a huge Mahlstrom, sounding there, under cloudof night. Convention sits permanent on this hand; Municipality mostpermanent on that. The poor Prisoners hear tocsin and rumour; strive tobethink them of the signals apparently of hope. Meek continual Twilightstreaming up, which will be Dawn and a To-morrow, silvers the Northernhem of Night; it wends and wends there, that meek brightness, like asilent prophecy, along the great Ring-Dial of the Heaven. So still, eternal! And on Earth all is confused shadow and conflict; dissidence, tumultuous gloom and glare; and Destiny as yet shakes her doubtful urn. About three in the morning, the dissident Armed-Forces have met. Henriot's Armed Force stood ranked in the Place de Greve; and nowBarras's, which he has recruited, arrives there; and they front eachother, cannon bristling against cannon. Citoyens! cries the voiceof Discretion, loudly enough, Before coming to bloodshed, to endlesscivil-war, hear the Convention Decree read: 'Robespierre and all rebelsOut of Law!'--Out of Law? There is terror in the sound: unarmed Citoyensdisperse rapidly home; Municipal Cannoneers range themselves on theConvention side, with shouting. At which shout, Henriot descends fromhis upper room, far gone in drink as some say; finds his Place de Greveempty; the cannons' mouth turned towards him; and, on the whole, --thatit is now the catastrophe! Stumbling in again, the wretched drunk-sobered Henriot announces: "Allis lost!" "Miserable! it is thou that hast lost it, " cry they: and flinghim, or else he flings himself, out of window: far enough down; intomasonwork and horror of cesspool; not into death but worse. AugustinRobespierre follows him; with the like fate. Saint-Just called on Lebasto kill him: who would not. Couthon crept under a table; attempting tokill himself; not doing it. --On entering that Sanhedrim of Insurrection, we find all as good as extinct; undone, ready for seizure. Robespierrewas sitting on a chair, with pistol shot blown through, not his head, but his under jaw; the suicidal hand had failed. (Meda. P. 384. )Meda asserts that it was he who, with infinite courage, though in alefthanded manner, shot Robespierre. Meda got promoted for his servicesof this night; and died General and Baron. Few credited Meda (in whatwas otherwise incredible. ) With prompt zeal, not without trouble, wegather these wretched Conspirators; fish up even Henriot and Augustin, bleeding and foul; pack them all, rudely enough, into carts; and shall, before sunrise, have them safe under lock and key. Amid shoutings andembracings. Robespierre lay in an anteroom of the Convention Hall, while hisPrison-escort was getting ready; the mangled jaw bound up rudely withbloody linen: a spectacle to men. He lies stretched on a table, a deal-box his pillow; the sheath of the pistol is still clenchedconvulsively in his hand. Men bully him, insult him: his eyes stillindicate intelligence; he speaks no word. 'He had on the sky-blue coathe had got made for the Feast of the Etre Supreme'--O reader, canthy hard heart hold out against that? His trousers were nankeen; thestockings had fallen down over the ankles. He spake no word more in thisworld. And so, at six in the morning, a victorious Convention adjourns. Reportflies over Paris as on golden wings; penetrates the Prisons; irradiatesthe faces of those that were ready to perish: turnkeys and moutons, fallen from their high estate, look mute and blue. It is the 28th day ofJuly, called 10th of Thermidor, year 1794. Fouquier had but to identify; his Prisoners being already Out of Law. At four in the afternoon, never before were the streets of Paris seen socrowded. From the Palais de Justice to the Place de la Revolution, forthither again go the Tumbrils this time, it is one dense stirring mass;all windows crammed; the very roofs and ridge-tiles budding forth humanCuriosity, in strange gladness. The Death-tumbrils, with their motleyBatch of Outlaws, some Twenty-three or so, from Maximilien toMayor Fleuriot and Simon the Cordwainer, roll on. All eyes are onRobespierre's Tumbril, where he, his jaw bound in dirty linen, withhis half-dead Brother, and half-dead Henriot, lie shattered; their'seventeen hours' of agony about to end. The Gendarmes point theirswords at him, to shew the people which is he. A woman springs onthe Tumbril; clutching the side of it with one hand; waving the otherSibyl-like; and exclaims: "The death of thee gladdens my very heart, m'enivre de joie;" Robespierre opened his eyes; "Scelerat, go down toHell, with the curses of all wives and mothers!"--At the foot of thescaffold, they stretched him on the ground till his turn came. Liftedaloft, his eyes again opened; caught the bloody axe. Samson wrenchedthe coat off him; wrenched the dirty linen from his jaw: the jaw fellpowerless, there burst from him a cry;--hideous to hear and see. Samson, thou canst not be too quick! Samson's work done, there burst forth shout on shout of applause. Shout, which prolongs itself not only over Paris, but over France, but overEurope, and down to this Generation. Deservedly, and also undeservedly. O unhappiest Advocate of Arras, wert thou worse than other Advocates?Stricter man, according to his Formula, to his Credo and his Cant, ofprobities, benevolences, pleasures-of-virtue, and such like, lived notin that age. A man fitted, in some luckier settled age, to havebecome one of those incorruptible barren Pattern-Figures, and have hadmarble-tablets and funeral-sermons! His poor landlord, the Cabinetmakerin the Rue Saint-Honore, loved him; his Brother died for him. May God bemerciful to him, and to us. This is end of the Reign of Terror; new glorious Revolution named ofThermidor; of Thermidor 9th, year 2; which being interpreted into oldslave-style means 27th of July, 1794. Terror is ended; and death in thePlace de la Revolution, were the 'Tail of Robespierre' once executed;which service Fouquier in large Batches is swiftly managing. BOOK 3. VII. VENDEMIAIRE Chapter 3. 7. I. Decadent. How little did any one suppose that here was the end not of Robespierreonly, but of the Revolution System itself! Least of all did themutinying Committee-men suppose it; who had mutinied with no viewwhatever except to continue the National Regeneration with their ownheads on their shoulders. And yet so it verily was. The insignificantstone they had struck out, so insignificant anywhere else, proved to bethe Keystone: the whole arch-work and edifice of Sansculottism beganto loosen, to crack, to yawn; and tumbled, piecemeal, with considerablerapidity, plunge after plunge; till the Abyss had swallowed it all, andin this upper world Sansculottism was no more. For despicable as Robespierre himself might be, the death of Robespierrewas a signal at which great multitudes of men, struck dumb with terrorheretofore, rose out of their hiding places: and, as it were, sawone another, how multitudinous they were; and began speaking andcomplaining. They are countable by the thousand and the million; whohave suffered cruel wrong. Ever louder rises the plaint of such amultitude; into a universal sound, into a universal continuous peal, of what they call Public Opinion. Camille had demanded a 'Committee ofMercy, ' and could not get it; but now the whole nation resolves itselfinto a Committee of Mercy: the Nation has tried Sansculottism, andis weary of it. Force of Public Opinion! What King or Convention canwithstand it? You in vain struggle: the thing that is rejected as'calumnious' to-day must pass as veracious with triumph another day:gods and men have declared that Sansculottism cannot be. Sansculottism, on that Ninth night of Thermidor suicidally 'fractured its under jaw;'and lies writhing, never to rise more. Through the next fifteenth months, it is what we may call thedeath-agony of Sansculottism. Sansculottism, Anarchy of the Jean-JacquesEvangel, having now got deep enough, is to perish in a new singularsystem of Culottism and Arrangement. For Arrangement is indispensable toman; Arrangement, were it grounded only on that old primary Evangel ofForce, with Sceptre in the shape of Hammer. Be there method, be thereorder, cry all men; were it that of the Drill-serjeant! Moretolerable is the drilled Bayonet-rank, than that undrilled Guillotine, incalculable as the wind. --How Sansculottism, writhing in death-throes, strove some twice, or even three times, to get on its feet again; butfell always, and was flung resupine, the next instant; and finallybreathed out the life of it, and stirred no more: this we are now, from a due distance, with due brevity, to glance at; and then--OReader!--Courage, I see land! Two of the first acts of the Convention, very natural for it afterthis Thermidor, are to be specified here: the first is renewal of theGoverning Committees. Both Surete Generale and Salut Public, thinnedby the Guillotine, need filling up: we naturally fill them up withTalliens, Frerons, victorious Thermidorian men. Still more to thepurpose, we appoint that they shall, as Law directs, not in name onlybut in deed, be renewed and changed from period to period; a fourth partof them going out monthly. The Convention will no more lie under bondageof Committees, under terror of death; but be a free Convention; freeto follow its own judgment, and the Force of Public Opinion. Not lessnatural is it to enact that Prisoners and Persons under Accusation shallhave right to demand some 'Writ of Accusation, ' and see clearly whatthey are accused of. Very natural acts: the harbingers of hundreds notless so. For now Fouquier's trade, shackled by Writ of Accusation, and legalproof, is as good as gone; effectual only against Robespierre's Tail. The Prisons give up their Suspects; emit them faster and faster. TheCommittees see themselves besieged with Prisoners' friends; complainthat they are hindered in their work: it is as with men rushing out ofa crowded place; and obstructing one another. Turned are the tables:Prisoners pouring out in floods; Jailors, Moutons and the Tail ofRobespierre going now whither they were wont to send!--The Hundred andthirty-two Nantese Republicans, whom we saw marching in irons, havearrived; shrunk to Ninety-four, the fifth man of them choked by theroad. They arrive: and suddenly find themselves not pleaders for life, but denouncers to death. Their Trial is for acquittal, and more. As thevoice of a trumpet, their testimony sounds far and wide, mere atrocitiesof a Reign of Terror. For a space of nineteen days; with all solemnityand publicity. Representative Carrier, Company of Marat; Noyadings, Loire Marriages, things done in darkness, come forth into light: clearis the voice of these poor resuscitated Nantese; and Journals and Speechand universal Committee of Mercy reverberate it loud enough, intoall ears and hearts. Deputation arrives from Arras; denouncing theatrocities of Representative Lebon. A tamed Convention loves its ownlife: yet what help? Representative Lebon, Representative Carrier mustwend towards the Revolutionary Tribunal; struggle and delay as we will, the cry of a Nation pursues them louder and louder. Them also Tinvillemust abolish;--if indeed Tinville himself be not abolished. We must note moreover the decrepit condition into which a onceomnipotent Mother Society has fallen. Legendre flung her keys on theConvention table, that Thermidor night; her President was guillotinedwith Robespierre. The once mighty Mother came, some time after, with asubdued countenance, begging back her keys: the keys were restored her;but the strength could not be restored her; the strength had departedforever. Alas, one's day is done. Vain that the Tribune in mid airsounds as of old: to the general ear it has become a horror, and even aweariness. By and by, Affiliation is prohibited: the mighty Mother seesherself suddenly childless; mourns, as so hoarse a Rachel may. The Revolutionary Committees, without Suspects to prey upon, perishfast; as it were of famine. In Paris the whole Forty-eight of them arereduced to Twelve, their Forty sous are abolished: yet a little while, and Revolutionary Committees are no more. Maximum will be abolished; letSansculottism find food where it can. (24th December 1794, Moniteur, No. 97. ) Neither is there now any Municipality; any centre at the Townhall. Mayor Fleuriot and Company perished; whom we shall not be in haste toreplace. The Townhall remains in a broken submissive state; knows notwell what it is growing to; knows only that it is grown weak, andmust obey. What if we should split Paris into, say, a Dozen separateMunicipalities; incapable of concert! The Sections were thus renderedsafe to act with:--or indeed might not the Sections themselves beabolished? You had then merely your Twelve manageable pacific Townships, without centre or subdivision; (October 1795, Dulaure, viii. 454-6. )and sacred right of Insurrection fell into abeyance! So much is getting abolished; fleeting swiftly into the Inane. Forthe Press speaks, and the human tongue; Journals, heavy and light, inPhilippic and Burlesque: a renegade Freron, a renegade Prudhomme, loudthey as ever, only the contrary way. And Ci-devants shew themselves, almost parade themselves; resuscitated as from death-sleep; publishwhat death-pains they have had. The very Frogs of the Marsh croak withemphasis. Your protesting Seventy-three shall, with a struggle, beemitted out of Prison, back to their seats; your Louvets, Isnards, Lanjuinais, and wrecks of Girondism, recalled from their haylofts, andcaves in Switzerland, will resume their place in the Convention: (DeuxAmis, xiii. 3-39. ) natural foes of Terror! Thermidorian Talliens, and mere foes of Terror, rule in this Convention, and out of it. The compressed Mountain shrinks silent more and more. Moderatism rises louder and louder: not as a tempest, with threatenings;say rather, as the rushing of a mighty organ-blast, and melodiousdeafening Force of Public Opinion, from the Twenty-five millionwindpipes of a Nation all in Committee of Mercy: which how shall anydetached body of individuals withstand? Chapter 3. 7. II. La Cabarus. How, above all, shall a poor National Convention, withstand it? Inthis poor National Convention, broken, bewildered by long terror, perturbations, and guillotinement, there is no Pilot, there is not noweven a Danton, who could undertake to steer you anywhither, in suchpress of weather. The utmost a bewildered Convention can do, is to veer, and trim, and try to keep itself steady: and rush, undrowned, before thewind. Needless to struggle; to fling helm a-lee, and make 'bout ship! Abewildered Convention sails not in the teeth of the wind; but is rapidlyblown round again. So strong is the wind, we say; and so changed;blowing fresher and fresher, as from the sweet South-West; yourdevastating North-Easters, and wild tornado-gusts of Terror, blownutterly out! All Sansculottic things are passing away; all things arebecoming Culottic. Do but look at the cut of clothes; that light visible Result, significant of a thousand things which are not so visible. In winter1793, men went in red nightcaps; Municipals themselves in sabots: thevery Citoyennes had to petition against such headgear. But now in thiswinter 1794, where is the red nightcap? With the thing beyond the Flood. Your monied Citoyen ponders in what elegantest style he shall dresshimself: whether he shall not even dress himself as the Free Peoples ofAntiquity. The more adventurous Citoyenne has already done it. Beholdher, that beautiful adventurous Citoyenne: in costume of the AncientGreeks, such Greek as Painter David could teach; her sweeping tressessnooded by glittering antique fillet; bright-eyed tunic of the Greekwomen; her little feet naked, as in Antique Statues, with mere sandals, and winding-strings of riband, --defying the frost! There is such an effervescence of Luxury. For your Emigrant Ci-devantscarried not their mansions and furnitures out of the country with them;but left them standing here: and in the swift changes of property, what with money coined on the Place de la Revolution, what withArmy-furnishings, sales of Emigrant Domain and Church Lands andKing's Lands, and then with the Aladdin's-lamp of Agio in a time ofPaper-money, such mansions have found new occupants. Old wine, drawnfrom Ci-devant bottles, descends new throats. Paris has swept herself, relighted herself; Salons, Soupers not Fraternal, beam once more withsuitable effulgence, very singular in colour. The fair Cabarus is comeout of Prison; wedded to her red-gloomy Dis, whom they say she treatstoo loftily: fair Cabarus gives the most brilliant soirees. Round her isgathered a new Republican Army, of Citoyennes in sandals; Ci-devants orother: what remnants soever of the old grace survive, are rallied there. At her right-hand, in this cause, labours fair Josephine the WidowBeauharnais, though in straitened circumstances: intent, both of them, to blandish down the grimness of Republican austerity, and recivilisemankind. Recivilise, as of old they were civilised: by witchery of the Orphicfiddle-bow, and Euterpean rhythm; by the Graces, by the Smiles!Thermidorian Deputies are there in those soirees; Editor Freron, Orateurdu Peuple; Barras, who has known other dances than the Carmagnole. GrimGenerals of the Republic are there; in enormous horse-collar neckcloth, good against sabre-cuts; the hair gathered all into one knot, 'flowingdown behind, fixed with a comb. ' Among which latter do we not recognise, once more, the little bronzed-complexioned Artillery-Officer of Toulon, home from the Italian Wars! Grim enough; of lean, almost cruel aspect:for he has been in trouble, in ill health; also in ill favour, as a manpromoted, deservingly or not, by the Terrorists and Robespierre Junior. But does not Barras know him? Will not Barras speak a word for him?Yes, --if at any time it will serve Barras so to do. Somewhat forlornof fortune, for the present, stands that Artillery-Officer; looks, withthose deep earnest eyes of his, into a future as waste as the most. Taciturn; yet with the strangest utterances in him, if you awakenhim, which smite home, like light or lightning:--on the whole, ratherdangerous? A 'dissociable' man? Dissociable enough; a natural terror andhorror to all Phantasms, being himself of the genus Reality! He standshere, without work or outlook, in this forsaken manner;--glancesnevertheless, it would seem, at the kind glance of JosephineBeauharnais; and, for the rest, with severe countenance, with open eyesand closed lips, waits what will betide. That the Balls, therefore, have a new figure this winter, we can see. Not Carmagnoles, rude 'whirlblasts of rags, ' as Mercier called them'precursors of storm and destruction:' no, soft Ionic motions; fit forthe light sandal, and antique Grecian tunic! Efflorescence of Luxury hascome out: for men have wealth; nay new-got wealth; and under the Terroryou durst not dance except in rags. Among the innumerable kinds ofBalls, let the hasty reader mark only this single one: the kind theycall Victim Balls, Bals a Victime. The dancers, in choice costume, haveall crape round the left arm: to be admitted, it needs that you be aVictime; that you have lost a relative under the Terror. Peace to theDead; let us dance to their memory! For in all ways one must dance. It is very remarkable, according to Mercier, under what varieties offigure this great business of dancing goes on. 'The women, ' says he, 'are Nymphs, Sultanas; sometimes Minervas, Junos, even Dianas. Inlight-unerring gyrations they swim there; with such earnestness ofpurpose; with perfect silence, so absorbed are they. What is singular, 'continues he, 'the onlookers are as it were mingled with thedancers; form as it were a circumambient element round the differentcontre-dances, yet without deranging them. It is rare, in fact, thata Sultana in such circumstances experience the smallest collision. Herpretty foot darts down, an inch from mine; she is off again; she is asa flash of light: but soon the measure recalls her to the point she setout from. Like a glittering comet she travels her eclipse, revolving onherself, as by a double effect of gravitation and attraction. ' (Mercier, Nouveau Paris, iii. 138, 153. ) Looking forward a little way, into Time, the same Mercier discerns Merveilleuses in 'flesh-coloured drawers' withgold circlets; mere dancing Houris of an artificial Mahomet's-Paradise:much too Mahometan. Montgaillard, with his splenetic eye, notes a noless strange thing; that every fashionable Citoyenne you meet is in aninteresting situation. Good Heavens, every! Mere pillows and stuffing!adds the acrid man;--such, in a time of depopulation by war andguillotine, being the fashion. (Montgaillard, iv. 436-42. ) No furtherseek its merits to disclose. Behold also instead of the old grim Tappe-durs of Robespierre, what newstreet-groups are these? Young men habited not in black-shag Carmagnolespencer, but in superfine habit carre or spencer with rectangular tailappended to it; 'square-tailed coat, ' with elegant antiguillotinishspecialty of collar; 'the hair plaited at the temples, ' and knottedback, long-flowing, in military wise: young men of what they call theMuscadin or Dandy species! Freron, in his fondness names them Jeunessedoree, Golden, or Gilt Youth. They have come out, these Gilt Youths, ina kind of resuscitated state; they wear crape round the left arm, suchof them as were Victims. More they carry clubs loaded with lead; in anangry manner: any Tappe-dur or remnant of Jacobinism they may fallin with, shall fare the worse. They have suffered much: their friendsguillotined; their pleasures, frolics, superfine collars ruthlesslyrepressed: 'ware now the base Red Nightcaps who did it! Fair Cabarus andthe Army of Greek sandals smile approval. In the Theatre Feydeau, youngValour in square-tailed coat eyes Beauty in Greek sandals, and kindlesby her glances: Down with Jacobinism! No Jacobin hymn or demonstration, only Thermidorian ones, shall be permitted here: we beat down Jacobinismwith clubs loaded with lead. But let any one who has examined the Dandy nature, how petulant it is, especially in the gregarious state, think what an element, in sacredright of insurrection, this Gilt Youth was! Broils and battery; warwithout truce or measure! Hateful is Sansculottism, as Death and Night. For indeed is not the Dandy culottic, habilatory, by law of existence;'a cloth-animal: one that lives, moves, and has his being in cloth?'-- So goes it, waltzing, bickering; fair Cabarus, by Orphic witchery, struggling to recivilise mankind. Not unsuccessfully, we hear. Whatutmost Republican grimness can resist Greek sandals, in Ionic motion, the very toes covered with gold rings? (Ibid. Mercier, ubi supra. ) Bydegrees the indisputablest new-politeness rises; grows, with vigour. Andyet, whether, even to this day, that inexpressible tone of society knownunder the old Kings, when Sin had 'lost all its deformity' (with orwithout advantage to us), and airy Nothing had obtained such a localhabitation and establishment as she never had, --be recovered? Or even, whether it be not lost beyond recovery? (De Stael, Considerations iii. C. 10, &c. )--Either way, the world must contrive to struggle on. Chapter 3. 7. III. Quiberon. But indeed do not these long-flowing hair-queues of a Jeunesse Doreein semi-military costume betoken, unconsciously, another still moreimportant tendency? The Republic, abhorrent of her Guillotine, loves herArmy. And with cause. For, surely, if good fighting be a kind of honour, as itis, in its season; and be with the vulgar of men, even the chief kind ofhonour, then here is good fighting, in good season, if there ever was. These Sons of the Republic, they rose, in mad wrath, to deliver her fromSlavery and Cimmeria. And have they not done it? Through Maritime Alps, through gorges of Pyrenees, through Low Countries, Northward along theRhine-valley, far is Cimmeria hurled back from the sacred Motherland. Fierce as fire, they have carried her Tricolor over the faces of all herenemies;--over scarped heights, over cannon-batteries; down, as withthe Vengeur, into the dead deep sea. She has 'Eleven hundred thousandfighters on foot, ' this Republic: 'At one particular moment she had, ' orsupposed she had, 'seventeen hundred thousand. ' (Toulongeon, iii. C. 7; v. C. 10, p. 194. ) Like a ring of lightning, they, volleying andca-ira-ing, begirdle her from shore to shore. Cimmerian Coalition ofDespots recoils; smitten with astonishment, and strange pangs. Such a fire is in these Gaelic Republican men; high-blazing; which noCoalition can withstand! Not scutcheons, with four degrees of nobility;but ci-devant Serjeants, who have had to clutch Generalship out of thecannon's throat, a Pichegru, a Jourdan, a Hoche, lead them on. They havebread, they have iron; 'with bread and iron you can get to China. '--SeePichegru's soldiers, this hard winter, in their looped and windoweddestitution, in their 'straw-rope shoes and cloaks of bass-mat, ' howthey overrun Holland, like a demon-host, the ice having bridged allwaters; and rush shouting from victory to victory! Ships in theTexel are taken by huzzars on horseback: fled is York; fled is theStadtholder, glad to escape to England, and leave Holland to fraternise. (19th January, 1795, Montgaillard, iv. 287-311. ) Such a Gaelic fire, we say, blazes in this People, like the conflagration of grass anddry-jungle; which no mortal can withstand--for the moment. And even so it will blaze and run, scorching all things; and, from Cadizto Archangel, mad Sansculottism, drilled now into Soldiership, led onby some 'armed Soldier of Democracy' (say, that MonosyllabicArtillery-Officer), will set its foot cruelly on the necks ofits enemies; and its shouting and their shrieking shall fill theworld!--Rash Coalised Kings, such a fire have ye kindled; yourselvesfireless, your fighters animated only by drill-serjeants, messroommoralities, and the drummer's cat! However, it is begun, and willnot end: not for a matter of twenty years. So long, this Gaelic fire, through its successive changes of colour and character, will blaze overthe face of Europe, and afflict the scorch all men:--till it provoke allmen; till it kindle another kind of fire, the Teutonic kind, namely; andbe swallowed up, so to speak, in a day! For there is a fire comparableto the burning of dry-jungle and grass; most sudden, high-blazing:and another fire which we liken to the burning of coal, or even ofanthracite coal; difficult to kindle, but then which nothing will putout. The ready Gaelic fire, we can remark further, and remark not inPichegrus only, but in innumerable Voltaires, Racines, Laplaces, noless; for a man, whether he fight, or sing, or think, will remainthe same unity of a man, --is admirable for roasting eggs, in everyconceivable sense. The Teutonic anthracite again, as we see in Luthers, Leibnitzes, Shakespeares, is preferable for smelting metals. How happyis our Europe that has both kinds!-- But be this as it may, the Republic is clearly triumphing. In the springof the year Mentz Town again sees itself besieged; will again changemaster: did not Merlin the Thionviller, 'with wild beard and look, ' sayit was not for the last time they saw him there? The Elector of Mentzcirculates among his brother Potentates this pertinent query, Were itnot advisable to treat of Peace? Yes! answers many an Elector from thebottom of his heart. But, on the other hand, Austria hesitates; finallyrefuses, being subsidied by Pitt. As to Pitt, whoever hesitate, he, suspending his Habeas-corpus, suspending his Cash-payments, standsinflexible, --spite of foreign reverses; spite of domestic obstacles, ofScotch National Conventions and English Friends of the People, whom heis obliged to arraign, to hang, or even to see acquitted with jubilee: alean inflexible man. The Majesty of Spain, as we predicted, makes Peace;also the Majesty of Prussia: and there is a Treaty of Bale. (5thApril, 1795, Montgaillard, iv. 319. ) Treaty with black Anarchists andRegicides! Alas, what help? You cannot hang this Anarchy; it is like tohang you: you must needs treat with it. Likewise, General Hoche has even succeeded in pacificating La Vendee. Rogue Rossignol and his 'Infernal Columns' have vanished: by firmnessand justice, by sagacity and industry, General Hoche has done it. Taking'Movable Columns, ' not infernal; girdling-in the Country; pardoning thesubmissive, cutting down the resistive, limb after limb of the Revoltis brought under. La Rochejacquelin, last of our Nobles, fell in battle;Stofflet himself makes terms; Georges-Cadoudal is back to Brittany, among his Chouans: the frightful gangrene of La Vendee seems veritablyextirpated. It has cost, as they reckon in round numbers, the lives ofa Hundred Thousand fellow-mortals; with noyadings, conflagratings byinfernal column, which defy arithmetic. This is the La Vendee War. (Histoire de la Guerre de la Vendee, par M. Le Comte de Vauban, Memoiresde Madame de la Rochejacquelin, &c. ) Nay in few months, it does burst up once more, but once only:--blownupon by Pitt, by our Ci-devant Puisaye of Calvados, and others. In themonth of July 1795, English Ships will ride in Quiberon roads. There will be debarkation of chivalrous Ci-devants, of volunteerPrisoners-of-war--eager to desert; of fire-arms, Proclamations, clothes-chests, Royalists and specie. Whereupon also, on the Republicanside, there will be rapid stand-to-arms; with ambuscade marchings byQuiberon beach, at midnight; storming of Fort Penthievre; war-thundermingling with the roar of the nightly main; and such a morning light ashas seldom dawned; debarkation hurled back into its boats, or intothe devouring billows, with wreck and wail;--in one word, a Ci-devantPuisaye as totally ineffectual here as he was in Calvados, when he rodefrom Vernon Castle without boots. (Deux Amis, xiv. 94-106; Puisaye, Memoires, iii-vii. ) Again, therefore, it has cost the lives of many a brave man. Among whomthe whole world laments the brave Son of Sombreuil. Ill-fated family!The father and younger son went to the guillotine; the heroic daughterlanguishes, reduced to want, hides her woes from History: the elder sonperishes here; shot by military tribunal as an Emigrant; Hoche himselfcannot save him. If all wars, civil and other, are misunderstandings, what a thing must right-understanding be! Chapter 3. 7. IV. Lion not dead. The Convention, borne on the tide of Fortune towards foreign Victory, and driven by the strong wind of Public Opinion towards Clemency andLuxury, is rushing fast; all skill of pilotage is needed, and more thanall, in such a velocity. Curious to see, how we veer and whirl, yet must ever whirl roundagain, and scud before the wind. If, on the one hand, we re-admit theProtesting Seventy-Three, we, on the other hand, agree to consummatethe Apotheosis of Marat; lift his body from the Cordeliers Church, andtransport it to the Pantheon of Great Men, --flinging out Mirabeau tomake room for him. To no purpose: so strong blows Public Opinion! AGilt Youthhood, in plaited hair-tresses, tears down his Busts fromthe Theatre Feydeau; tramples them under foot; scatters them, withvociferation into the Cesspool of Montmartre. (Moniteur, du 25 Septembre1794, du 4 Fevrier 1795. ) Swept is his Chapel from the Place duCarrousel; the Cesspool of Montmartre will receive his very dust. Shorter godhood had no divine man. Some four months in this Pantheon, Temple of All the Immortals; then to the Cesspool, grand Cloaca ofParis and the World! 'His Busts at one time amounted to four thousand. 'Between Temple of All the Immortals and Cloaca of the World, how arepoor human creatures whirled! Furthermore the question arises, When will the Constitution ofNinety-three, of 1793, come into action? Considerate heads surmise, inall privacy, that the Constitution of Ninety-three will never come intoaction. Let them busy themselves to get ready a better. Or, again, where now are the Jacobins? Childless, most decrepit, as wesaw, sat the mighty Mother; gnashing not teeth, but empty gums, againsta traitorous Thermidorian Convention and the current of things. Twicewere Billaud, Collot and Company accused in Convention, by a Lecointre, by a Legendre; and the second time, it was not voted calumnious. Billaud from the Jacobin tribune says, "The lion is not dead, he is onlysleeping. " They ask him in Convention, What he means by the awakeningof the lion? And bickerings, of an extensive sort, arose in thePalais-Egalite between Tappe-durs and the Gilt Youthhood; cries of "Downwith the Jacobins, the Jacoquins, " coquin meaning scoundrel! The Tribunein mid-air gave battle-sound; answered only by silence and uncertaingasps. Talk was, in Government Committees, of 'suspending' the JacobinSessions. Hark, there!--it is in Allhallow-time, or on the Hallow-eveitself, month ci-devant November, year once named of Grace 1794, sadeve for Jacobinism, --volley of stones dashing through our windows, with jingle and execration! The female Jacobins, famed Tricoteuses withknitting-needles, take flight; are met at the doors by a Gilt Youthhoodand 'mob of four thousand persons;' are hooted, flouted, hustled;fustigated, in a scandalous manner, cotillons retrousses;--and vanish inmere hysterics. Sally out ye male Jacobins! The male Jacobins sally out;but only to battle, disaster and confusion. So that armed Authorityhas to intervene: and again on the morrow to intervene; and suspend theJacobin Sessions forever and a day. (Moniteur, Seances du 10-12 Novembre1794: Deux Amis, xiii. 43-49. ) Gone are the Jacobins; into invisibility;in a storm of laughter and howls. Their place is made a Normal School, the first of the kind seen; it then vanishes into a 'Market of ThermidorNinth;' into a Market of Saint-Honore, where is now peaceable chafferingfor poultry and greens. The solemn temples, the great globe itself; thebaseless fabric! Are not we such stuff, we and this world of ours, asDreams are made of? Maximum being abrogated, Trade was to take its own free course. Alas, Trade, shackled, topsyturvied in the way we saw, and now suddenly letgo again, can for the present take no course at all; but only reel andstagger. There is, so to speak, no Trade whatever for the time being. Assignats, long sinking, emitted in such quantities, sink now with analacrity beyond parallel. "Combien?" said one, to a Hackney-coachman, "What fare?" "Six thousand livres, " answered he: some three hundredpounds sterling, in Paper-money. (Mercier, ii. 94. '1st February, 1796:at the Bourse of Paris, the gold louis, ' of 20 francs in silver, 'costs5, 300 francs in assignats. ' Montgaillard, iv. 419. ) Pressure of Maximumwithdrawn, the things it compressed likewise withdraw. 'Two ounces ofbread per day' in the modicum allotted: wide-waving, doleful are theBakers' Queues; Farmers' houses are become pawnbrokers' shops. One can imagine, in these circumstances, with what humour Sansculottismgrowled in its throat, "La Cabarus;" beheld Ci-devants return dancing, the Thermidor effulgence of recivilisation, and Balls in flesh-coloureddrawers. Greek tunics and sandals; hosts of Muscadins parading, withtheir clubs loaded with lead;--and we here, cast out, abhorred, 'pickingoffals from the street;' (Fantin Desodoards, Histoire de la Revolution, vii. C. 4. ) agitating in Baker's Queue for our two ounces of bread! Willthe Jacobin lion, which they say is meeting secretly 'at the Acheveche, in bonnet rouge with loaded pistols, ' not awaken? Seemingly not. OurCollot, our Billaud, Barrere, Vadier, in these last days of March 1795, are found worthy of Deportation, of Banishment beyond seas; and shall, for the present, be trundled off to the Castle of Ham. The lion isdead;--or writhing in death-throes! Behold, accordingly, on the day they call Twelfth of Germinal (whichis also called First of April, not a lucky day), how lively are thesestreets of Paris once more! Floods of hungry women, of squalid hungrymen; ejaculating: "Bread, Bread and the Constitution of Ninety-three!"Paris has risen, once again, like the Ocean-tide; is flowing towardsthe Tuileries, for Bread and a Constitution. Tuileries Sentries do theirbest; but it serves not: the Ocean-tide sweeps them away; inundates theConvention Hall itself; howling, "Bread, and the Constitution!" Unhappy Senators, unhappy People, there is yet, after all toils andbroils, no Bread, no Constitution. "Du pain, pas tant de longs discours, Bread, not bursts of Parliamentary eloquence!" so wailed the Menadsof Maillard, five years ago and more; so wail ye to this hour. TheConvention, with unalterable countenance, with what thought one knowsnot, keeps its seat in this waste howling chaos; rings its stormbellfrom the Pavilion of Unity. Section Lepelletier, old FillesSaint-Thomas, who are of the money-changing species; these and GiltYouthhood fly to the rescue; sweep chaos forth again, with levelledbayonets. Paris is declared 'in a state of siege. ' Pichegru, Conquerorof Holland, who happens to be here, is named Commandant, till thedisturbance end. He, in one day, so to speak, ends it. He accomplishesthe transfer of Billaud, Collot and Company; dissipating all opposition'by two cannon-shots, ' blank cannon-shots, and the terror of his name;and thereupon announcing, with a Laconicism which should be imitated, "Representatives, your decrees are executed, " (Moniteur, Seance du 13Germinal (2d April) 1795. ) lays down his Commandantship. This Revolt of Germinal, therefore, has passed, like a vain cry. ThePrisoners rest safe in Ham, waiting for ships; some nine hundred 'chiefTerrorists of Paris' are disarmed. Sansculottism, swept forth withbayonets, has vanished, with its misery, to the bottom of Saint-Antoineand Saint-Marceau. --Time was when Usher Maillard with Menads could alterthe course of Legislation; but that time is not. Legislation seems tohave got bayonets; Section Lepelletier takes its firelock, not for us!We retire to our dark dens; our cry of hunger is called a Plot of Pitt;the Saloons glitter, the flesh-coloured Drawers gyrate as before. It wasfor "The Cabarus" then, and her Muscadins and Money-changers, thatwe fought? It was for Balls in flesh-coloured drawers that we tookFeudalism by the beard, and did, and dared, shedding our blood likewater? Expressive Silence, muse thou their praise!-- Chapter 3. 7. V. Lion sprawling its last. Representative Carrier went to the Guillotine, in December last;protesting that he acted by orders. The Revolutionary Tribunal, afterall it has devoured, has now only, as Anarchic things do, to devouritself. In the early days of May, men see a remarkable thing:Fouquier-Tinville pleading at the Bar once his own. He and his chiefJurymen, Leroi August-Tenth, Juryman Vilate, a Batch of Sixteen;pleading hard, protesting that they acted by orders: but pleading invain. Thus men break the axe with which they have done hateful things;the axe itself having grown hateful. For the rest, Fouquier died hardenough: "Where are thy Batches?" howled the People. --"Hungry canaille, "asked Fouquier, "is thy Bread cheaper, wanting them?" Remarkable Fouquier; once but as other Attorneys and Law-beagles, whichhunt ravenous on this Earth, a well-known phasis of human nature; andnow thou art and remainest the most remarkable Attorney that ever livedand hunted in the Upper Air! For, in this terrestrial Course of Time, there was to be an Avatar of Attorneyism; the Heavens had said, Letthere be an Incarnation, not divine, of the venatory Attorney-spiritwhich keeps its eye on the bond only;--and lo, this was it; and theyhave attorneyed it in its turn. Vanish, then, thou rat-eyed Incarnationof Attorneyism; who at bottom wert but as other Attorneys, and toohungry Sons of Adam! Juryman Vilate had striven hard for life, andpublished, from his Prison, an ingenious Book, not unknown to us; but itwould not stead: he also had to vanish; and this his Book of theSecret Causes of Thermidor, full of lies, with particles of truth in itundiscoverable otherwise, is all that remains of him. Revolutionary Tribunal has done; but vengeance has not done. Representative Lebon, after long struggling, is handed over to theordinary Law Courts, and by them guillotined. Nay, at Lyons andelsewhere, resuscitated Moderatism, in its vengeance, will not waitthe slow process of Law; but bursts into the Prisons, sets fire to theprisons; burns some three score imprisoned Jacobins to dire death, or chokes them 'with the smoke of straw. ' There go vengeful truculent'Companies of Jesus, ' 'Companies of the Sun;' slaying Jacobinismwherever they meet with it; flinging it into the Rhone-stream; which, once more, bears seaward a horrid cargo. (Moniteur, du 27 Juin, du 31Aout, 1795; Deux Amis, xiii. 121-9. ) Whereupon, at Toulon, Jacobinismrises in revolt; and is like to hang the National Representatives. --Withsuch action and reaction, is not a poor National Convention hardbested? It is like the settlement of winds and waters, of seas longtornado-beaten; and goes on with jumble and with jangle. Now flungaloft, now sunk in trough of the sea, your Vessel of the Republic hasneed of all pilotage and more. What Parliament that ever sat under the Moon had such a series ofdestinies, as this National Convention of France? It came together tomake the Constitution; and instead of that, it has had to make nothingbut destruction and confusion: to burn up Catholicisms, Aristocratisms, to worship Reason and dig Saltpetre, to fight Titanically with itselfand with the whole world. A Convention decimated by the Guillotine;above the tenth man has bowed his neck to the axe. Which has seenCarmagnoles danced before it, and patriotic strophes sung amidChurch-spoils; the wounded of the Tenth of August defile in handbarrows;and, in the Pandemonial Midnight, Egalite's dames in tricolor drinklemonade, and spectrum of Sieyes mount, saying, Death sans phrase. AConvention which has effervesced, and which has congealed; which hasbeen red with rage, and also pale with rage: sitting with pistols in itspocket, drawing sword (in a moment of effervescence): now storming tothe four winds, through a Danton-voice, Awake, O France, and smitethe tyrants; now frozen mute under its Robespierre, and answering hisdirge-voice by a dubious gasp. Assassinated, decimated; stabbed at, shotat, in baths, on streets and staircases; which has been the nucleusof Chaos. Has it not heard the chimes at midnight? It has deliberated, beset by a Hundred thousand armed men with artillery-furnaces andprovision-carts. It has been betocsined, bestormed; over-flooded byblack deluges of Sansculottism; and has heard the shrill cry, Bread andSoap. For, as we say, its the nucleus of Chaos; it sat as the centre ofSansculottism; and had spread its pavilion on the waste Deep, whereis neither path nor landmark, neither bottom nor shore. In intrinsicvalour, ingenuity, fidelity, and general force and manhood, it hasperhaps not far surpassed the average of Parliaments: but in franknessof purpose, in singularity of position, it seeks its fellow. One otherSansculottic submersion, or at most two, and this wearied vessel of aConvention reaches land. Revolt of Germinal Twelfth ended as a vain cry; moribund Sansculottismwas swept back into invisibility. There it has lain moaning, these sixweeks: moaning, and also scheming. Jacobins disarmed, flung forth fromtheir Tribune in mid air, must needs try to help themselves, in secretconclave under ground. Lo, therefore, on the First day of the MonthPrairial, 20th of May 1795, sound of the generale once more; beatingsharp, ran-tan, To arms, To arms! Sansculottism has risen, yet again, from its death-lair; wastewild-flowing, as the unfruitful Sea. Saint-Antoine is a-foot: "Bread andthe Constitution of Ninety-three, " so sounds it; so stands it writtenwith chalk on the hats of men. They have their pikes, their firelocks;Paper of Grievances; standards; printed Proclamation, drawn up in quiteofficial manner, --considering this, and also considering that, they, amuch-enduring Sovereign People, are in Insurrection; will have Bread andthe Constitution of Ninety-three. And so the Barriers are seized, and the generale beats, and tocsins discourse discord. Black delugesoverflow the Tuileries; spite of sentries, the Sanctuary itself isinvaded: enter, to our Order of the Day, a torrent of dishevelled women, wailing, "Bread! Bread!" President may well cover himself; and have hisown tocsin rung in 'the Pavilion of Unity;' the ship of the State againlabours and leaks; overwashed, near to swamping, with unfruitful brine. What a day, once more! Women are driven out: men storm irresistibly in;choke all corridors, thunder at all gates. Deputies, putting forth head, obtest, conjure; Saint-Antoine rages, "Bread and Constitution. " Reporthas risen that the 'Convention is assassinating the women:' crushingand rushing, clangor and furor! The oak doors have become as oaktambourines, sounding under the axe of Saint-Antoine; plaster-workcrackles, woodwork booms and jingles; door starts up;--bursts-inSaint-Antoine with frenzy and vociferation, Rag-standards, printedProclamation, drum-music: astonishment to eye and ear. Gendarmes, loyalSectioners charge through the other door; they are recharged; musketryexploding: Saint-Antoine cannot be expelled. Obtesting Deputies obtestvainly; Respect the President; approach not the President! DeputyFeraud, stretching out his hands, baring his bosom scarred in theSpanish wars, obtests vainly: threatens and resists vainly. RebelliousDeputy of the Sovereign, if thou have fought, have not we too? We haveno bread, no Constitution! They wrench poor Feraud; they tumble him, trample him, wrath waxing to see itself work: they drag him into thecorridor, dead or near it; sever his head, and fix it on a pike. Ah, did an unexampled Convention want this variety of destiny too, then?Feraud's bloody head goes on a pike. Such a game has begun; Paris andthe Earth may wait how it will end. And so it billows free though all Corridors; within, and without, faras the eye reaches, nothing but Bedlam, and the great Deep broken loose!President Boissy d'Anglas sits like a rock: the rest of the Conventionis floated 'to the upper benches;' Sectioners and Gendarmes stillranking there to form a kind of wall for them. And Insurrection rages;rolls its drums; will read its Paper of Grievances, will have thisdecreed, will have that. Covered sits President Boissy, unyielding; likea rock in the beating of seas. They menace him, level muskets at him, heyields not; they hold up Feraud's bloody head to him, with grave sternair he bows to it, and yields not. And the Paper of Grievances cannot get itself read for uproar; and thedrums roll, and the throats bawl; and Insurrection, like sphere-music, is inaudible for very noise: Decree us this, Decree us that. One man wediscern bawling 'for the space of an hour at all intervals, ' "Jedemande l'arrestation des coquins et des laches. " Really one of themost comprehensive Petitions ever put up: which indeed, to this hour, includes all that you can reasonably ask Constitution of the Year One, Rotten-Borough, Ballot-Box, or other miraculous Political Ark of theCovenant to do for you to the end of the world! I also demand arrestmentof the Knaves and Dastards, and nothing more whatever. NationalRepresentation, deluged with black Sansculottism glides out; for helpelsewhere, for safety elsewhere: here is no help. About four in the afternoon, there remain hardly more than someSixty Members: mere friends, or even secret-leaders; a remnant of theMountain-crest, held in silence by Thermidorian thraldom. Now is thetime for them; now or never let them descend, and speak! They descend, these Sixty, invited by Sansculottism: Romme of the New Calendar, Ruhlof the Sacred Phial, Goujon, Duquesnoy, Soubrany, and the rest. GladSansculottism forms a ring for them; Romme takes the President's chair;they begin resolving and decreeing. Fast enough now comes Decree afterDecree, in alternate brief strains, or strophe and antistrophe, --whatwill cheapen bread, what will awaken the dormant lion. And at every newDecree, Sansculottism shouts, Decreed, Decreed; and rolls its drums. Fast enough; the work of months in hours, --when see, a Figure enters, whom in the lamp-light we recognise to be Legendre; and utters words:fit to be hissed out! And then see, Section Lepelletier or otherMuscadin Section enters, and Gilt Youth, with levelled bayonets, countenances screwed to the sticking-place! Tramp, tramp, with bayonetsgleaming in the lamp-light: what can one do, worn down with long riot, grown heartless, dark, hungry, but roll back, but rush back, and escapewho can? The very windows need to be thrown up, that Sansculottism mayescape fast enough. Money-changer Sections and Gilt Youth sweep themforth, with steel besom, far into the depths of Saint-Antoine. Triumphonce more! The Decrees of that Sixty are not so much as rescinded;they are declared null and non-extant. Romme, Ruhl, Goujon andthe ringleaders, some thirteen in all, are decreed Accused. Permanent-session ends at three in the morning. (Deux Amis, xiii. 129-46. ) Sansculottism, once more flung resupine, lies sprawling;sprawling its last. Such was the First of Prairial, 20th May, 1795. Second and Third ofPrairial, during which Sansculottism still sprawled, and unexpectedlyrang its tocsin, and assembled in arms, availed Sansculottism nothing. What though with our Rommes and Ruhls, accused but not yet arrested, wemake a new 'True National Convention' of our own, over in the East; andput the others Out of Law? What though we rank in arms and march? ArmedForce and Muscadin Sections, some thirty thousand men, environ thatold False Convention: we can but bully one another: bandying nicknames, "Muscadins, " against "Blooddrinkers, Buveurs de Sang. " Feraud'sAssassin, taken with the red hand, and sentenced, and now near toGuillotine and Place de Greve, is retaken; is carried back intoSaint-Antoine: to no purpose. Convention Sectionaries and Gilt Youthcome, according to Decree, to seek him; nay to disarm Saint-Antoine!And they do disarm it: by rolling of cannon, by springing upon enemy'scannon; by military audacity, and terror of the Law. Saint-Antoinesurrenders its arms; Santerre even advising it, anxious for life andbrewhouse. Feraud's Assassin flings himself from a high roof: and all islost. (Toulongeon, v. 297; Moniteur, Nos. 244, 5, 6. ) Discerning which things, old Ruhl shot a pistol through his old whitehead; dashed his life in pieces, as he had done the Sacred Phialof Rheims. Romme, Goujon and the others stand ranked before aswiftly-appointed, swift Military Tribunal. Hearing the sentence, Goujondrew a knife, struck it into his breast, passed it to his neighbourRomme; and fell dead. Romme did the like; and another all but did it;Roman-death rushing on there, as in electric-chain, before your Bailiffscould intervene! The Guillotine had the rest. They were the Ultimi Romanorum. Billaud, Collot and Company are nowordered to be tried for life; but are found to be already off, shippedfor Sinamarri, and the hot mud of Surinam. There let Billaud surroundhimself with flocks of tame parrots; Collot take the yellow fever, anddrinking a whole bottle of brandy, burn up his entrails. (Dictionnairedes Hommes Marquans, paras Billaud, Collot. ) Sansculottism spraws nomore. The dormant lion has become a dead one; and now, as we see, anyhoof may smite him. Chapter 3. 7. VI. Grilled Herrings. So dies Sansculottism, the body of Sansculottism, or is changed. Itsragged Pythian Carmagnole-dance has transformed itself into a Pyrrhic, into a dance of Cabarus Balls. Sansculottism is dead; extinguishedby new isms of that kind, which were its own natural progeny; and isburied, we may say, with such deafening jubilation and disharmony offuneral-knell on their part, that only after some half century or sodoes one begin to learn clearly why it ever was alive. And yet a meaning lay in it: Sansculottism verily was alive, a New-Birthof TIME; nay it still lives, and is not dead, but changed. The soul ofit still lives; still works far and wide, through one bodily shapeinto another less amorphous, as is the way of cunning Time with hisNew-Births:--till, in some perfected shape, it embrace the wholecircuit of the world! For the wise man may now everywhere discern thathe must found on his manhood, not on the garnitures of his manhood. He who, in these Epochs of our Europe, founds on garnitures, formulas, culottisms of what sort soever, is founding on old cloth and sheep-skin, and cannot endure. But as for the body of Sansculottism, that is deadand buried, --and, one hopes, need not reappear, in primary amorphousshape, for another thousand years! It was the frightfullest thing ever borne of Time? One of thefrightfullest. This Convention, now grown Anti-Jacobin, did, with an eyeto justify and fortify itself, publish Lists of what the Reign ofTerror had perpetrated: Lists of Persons Guillotined. The Lists, criessplenetic Abbe Montgaillard, were not complete. They contain the namesof, How many persons thinks the reader?--Two Thousand all but a few. There were above Four Thousand, cries Montgaillard: so many wereguillotined, fusilladed, noyaded, done to dire death; of whom NineHundred were women. (Montgaillard, iv. 241. ) It is a horrible sum ofhuman lives, M. L'Abbe:--some ten times as many shot rightly on a fieldof battle, and one might have had his Glorious-Victory with Te-Deum. Itis not far from the two-hundredth part of what perished in the entireSeven Years War. By which Seven Years War, did not the great Fritzwrench Silesia from the great Theresa; and a Pompadour, stung byepigrams, satisfy herself that she could not be an Agnes Sorel? The headof man is a strange vacant sounding-shell, M. L'Abbe; and studies Cockerto small purpose. But what if History, somewhere on this Planet, were to hear of a Nation, the third soul of whom had not for thirty weeks each year as manythird-rate potatoes as would sustain him? (Report of the Irish Poor-LawCommission, 1836. ) History, in that case, feels bound to consider thatstarvation is starvation; that starvation from age to age presupposesmuch: History ventures to assert that the French Sansculotte ofNinety-three, who, roused from long death-sleep, could rush at onceto the frontiers, and die fighting for an immortal Hope and Faith ofDeliverance for him and his, was but the second-miserablest of men! TheIrish Sans-potato, had he not senses then, nay a soul? In his frozendarkness, it was bitter for him to die famishing; bitter to see hischildren famish. It was bitter for him to be a beggar, a liar and aknave. Nay, if that dreary Greenland-wind of benighted Want, perennialfrom sire to son, had frozen him into a kind of torpor and numbcallosity, so that he saw not, felt not, was this, for a creature with asoul in it, some assuagement; or the cruellest wretchedness of all? Such things were, such things are; and they go on in silence peaceably:and Sansculottisms follow them. History, looking back over this Francethrough long times, back to Turgot's time for instance, when dumbDrudgery staggered up to its King's Palace, and in wide expanse ofsallow faces, squalor and winged raggedness, presented hieroglyphicallyits Petition of Grievances; and for answer got hanged on a 'new gallowsforty feet high, '--confesses mournfully that there is no period to bemet with, in which the general Twenty-five Millions of France sufferedless than in this period which they name Reign of Terror! But it was notthe Dumb Millions that suffered here; it was the Speaking Thousands, andHundreds, and Units; who shrieked and published, and made the worldring with their wail, as they could and should: that is thegrand peculiarity. The frightfullest Births of Time are never theloud-speaking ones, for these soon die; they are the silent ones, which can live from century to century! Anarchy, hateful as Death, isabhorrent to the whole nature of man; and must itself soon die. Wherefore let all men know what of depth and of height is stillrevealed in man; and, with fear and wonder, with just sympathy and justantipathy, with clear eye and open heart, contemplate it and appropriateit; and draw innumerable inferences from it. This inference, forexample, among the first: 'That if the gods of this lower world will siton their glittering thrones, indolent as Epicurus' gods, with the livingChaos of Ignorance and Hunger weltering uncared for at their feet, andsmooth Parasites preaching, Peace, peace, when there is no peace, ' thenthe dark Chaos, it would seem, will rise; has risen, and O Heavens! hasit not tanned their skins into breeches for itself? That there beno second Sansculottism in our Earth for a thousand years, let usunderstand well what the first was; and let Rich and Poor of us go anddo otherwise. --But to our tale. The Muscadin Sections greatly rejoice; Cabarus Balls gyrate: thewell-nigh insoluble problem Republic without Anarchy, have we not solvedit?--Law of Fraternity or Death is gone: chimerical Obtain-who-need hasbecome practical Hold-who-have. To anarchic Republic of the Povertiesthere has succeeded orderly Republic of the Luxuries; which willcontinue as long as it can. On the Pont au Change, on the Place de Greve, in long sheds, Mercier, inthese summer evenings, saw working men at their repast. One's allotmentof daily bread has sunk to an ounce and a half. 'Plates containingeach three grilled herrings, sprinkled with shorn onions, wetted witha little vinegar; to this add some morsel of boiled prunes, and lentilsswimming in a clear sauce: at these frugal tables, the cook's gridironhissing near by, and the pot simmering on a fire between two stones, Ihave seen them ranged by the hundred; consuming, without bread, theirscant messes, far too moderate for the keenness of their appetite, andthe extent of their stomach. ' (Nouveau Paris, iv. 118. ) Seine water, rushing plenteous by, will supply the deficiency. O man of Toil, thy struggling and thy daring, these six long years ofinsurrection and tribulation, thou hast profited nothing by it, then?Thou consumest thy herring and water, in the blessed gold-red evening. O why was the Earth so beautiful, becrimsoned with dawn and twilight, if man's dealings with man were to make it a vale of scarcity, oftears, not even soft tears? Destroying of Bastilles, discomfiting ofBrunswicks, fronting of Principalities and Powers, of Earth and Tophet, all that thou hast dared and endured, --it was for a Republic of theCabarus Saloons? Patience; thou must have patience: the end is not yet. Chapter 3. 7. VII. The Whiff of Grapeshot. In fact, what can be more natural, one may say inevitable, as aPost-Sansculottic transitionary state, than even this? Confused wreckof a Republic of the Poverties, which ended in Reign of Terror, isarranging itself into such composure as it can. Evangel of Jean-Jacques, and most other Evangels, becoming incredible, what is there for it butreturn to the old Evangel of Mammon? Contrat-Social is true or untrue, Brotherhood is Brotherhood or Death; but money always will buy money'sworth: in the wreck of human dubitations, this remains indubitable, thatPleasure is pleasant. Aristocracy of Feudal Parchment has passed awaywith a mighty rushing; and now, by a natural course, we arrive atAristocracy of the Moneybag. It is the course through which all EuropeanSocieties are at this hour travelling. Apparently a still baser sort ofAristocracy? An infinitely baser; the basest yet known! In which however there is this advantage, that, like Anarchy itself, it cannot continue. Hast thou considered how Thought is stronger thanArtillery-parks, and (were it fifty years after death and martyrdom, or were it two thousand years) writes and unwrites Acts of Parliament, removes mountains; models the World like soft clay? Also how thebeginning of all Thought, worth the name, is Love; and the wise headnever yet was, without first the generous heart? The Heavens cease nottheir bounty: they send us generous hearts into every generation. Andnow what generous heart can pretend to itself, or be hoodwinked intobelieving, that Loyalty to the Moneybag is a noble Loyalty? Mammon, cries the generous heart out of all ages and countries, is the basestof known Gods, even of known Devils. In him what glory is there, thatye should worship him? No glory discernable; not even terror: atbest, detestability, ill-matched with despicability!--Generous hearts, discerning, on this hand, widespread Wretchedness, dark without andwithin, moistening its ounce-and-half of bread with tears; and on thathand, mere Balls in fleshcoloured drawers, and inane or foul glitterof such sort, --cannot but ejaculate, cannot but announce: Too much, Odivine Mammon; somewhat too much!--The voice of these, once announcingitself, carries fiat and pereat in it, for all things here below. Meanwhile, we will hate Anarchy as Death, which it is; and the thingsworse than Anarchy shall be hated more! Surely Peace alone isfruitful. Anarchy is destruction: a burning up, say, of Shams andInsupportabilities; but which leaves Vacancy behind. Know this also, that out of a world of Unwise nothing but an Unwisdom can be made. Arrange it, Constitution-build it, sift it through Ballot-Boxes as thouwilt, it is and remains an Unwisdom, --the new prey of new quacks andunclean things, the latter end of it slightly better than the beginning. Who can bring a wise thing out of men unwise? Not one. And so Vacancyand general Abolition having come for this France, what can Anarchy domore? Let there be Order, were it under the Soldier's Sword; let therebe Peace, that the bounty of the Heavens be not spilt; that what ofWisdom they do send us bring fruit in its season!--It remains to be seenhow the quellers of Sansculottism were themselves quelled, and sacredright of Insurrection was blown away by gunpowder: wherewith thissingular eventful History called French Revolution ends. The Convention, driven such a course by wild wind, wild tide, andsteerage and non-steerage, these three years, has become weary of itsown existence, sees all men weary of it; and wishes heartily to finish. To the last, it has to strive with contradictions: it is now gettingfast ready with a Constitution, yet knows no peace. Sieyes, we say, ismaking the Constitution once more; has as good as made it. Warned byexperience, the great Architect alters much, admits much. Distinction ofActive and Passive Citizen, that is, Money-qualification for Electors:nay Two Chambers, 'Council of Ancients, ' as well as 'Council of FiveHundred;' to that conclusion have we come! In a like spirit, eschewingthat fatal self-denying ordinance of your Old Constituents, we enact notonly that actual Convention Members are re-eligible, but that Two-thirdsof them must be re-elected. The Active Citizen Electors shall for thistime have free choice of only One-third of their National Assembly. Such enactment, of Two-thirds to be re-elected, we append to ourConstitution; we submit our Constitution to the Townships of France, andsay, Accept both, or reject both. Unsavoury as this appendix may be, theTownships, by overwhelming majority, accept and ratify. With Directoryof Five; with Two good Chambers, double-majority of them nominated byourselves, one hopes this Constitution may prove final. March it will;for the legs of it, the re-elected Two-thirds, are already there, ableto march. Sieyes looks at his Paper Fabric with just pride. But now see how the contumacious Sections, Lepelletier foremost, kickagainst the pricks! Is it not manifest infraction of one's ElectiveFranchise, Rights of Man, and Sovereignty of the People, this appendixof re-electing your Two-thirds? Greedy tyrants who would perpetuateyourselves!--For the truth is, victory over Saint-Antoine, and longright of Insurrection, has spoiled these men. Nay spoiled all men. Consider too how each man was free to hope what he liked; and now thereis to be no hope, there is to be fruition, fruition of this. In men spoiled by long right of Insurrection, what confused fermentswill rise, tongues once begun wagging! Journalists declaim, yourLacretelles, Laharpes; Orators spout. There is Royalism traceable in it, and Jacobinism. On the West Frontier, in deep secrecy, Pichegru, dursthe trust his Army, is treating with Conde: in these Sections, therespout wolves in sheep's clothing, masked Emigrants and Royalists!(Napoleon, Las Cases, Choix des Rapports, xvii. 398-411. ) All men, aswe say, had hoped, each that the Election would do something for his ownside: and now there is no Election, or only the third of one. Black isunited with white against this clause of the Two-thirds; all the Unrulyof France, who see their trade thereby near ending. Section Lepelletier, after Addresses enough, finds that such clause isa manifest infraction; that it, Lepelletier, for one, will simply notconform thereto; and invites all other free Sections to join it, 'incentral Committee, ' in resistance to oppression. (Deux Amis, xiii. 375-406. ) The Sections join it, nearly all; strong with their FortyThousand fighting men. The Convention therefore may look to itself!Lepelletier, on this 12th day of Vendemiaire, 4th of October 1795, issitting in open contravention, in its Convent of Filles Saint-Thomas, Rue Vivienne, with guns primed. The Convention has some Five Thousandregular troops at hand; Generals in abundance; and a Fifteen Hundredof miscellaneous persecuted Ultra-Jacobins, whom in this crisis it hashastily got together and armed, under the title Patriots of Eighty-nine. Strong in Law, it sends its General Menou to disarm Lepelletier. General Menou marches accordingly, with due summons and demonstration;with no result. General Menou, about eight in the evening, finds thathe is standing ranked in the Rue Vivienne, emitting vain summonses;with primed guns pointed out of every window at him; and that he cannotdisarm Lepelletier. He has to return, with whole skin, but withoutsuccess; and be thrown into arrest as 'a traitor. ' Whereupon the wholeForty Thousand join this Lepelletier which cannot be vanquished: to whathand shall a quaking Convention now turn? Our poor Convention, aftersuch voyaging, just entering harbour, so to speak, has struck on thebar;--and labours there frightfully, with breakers roaring round it, Forty thousand of them, like to wash it, and its Sieyes Cargo and thewhole future of France, into the deep! Yet one last time, it struggles, ready to perish. Some call for Barras to be made Commandant; he conquered in Thermidor. Some, what is more to the purpose, bethink them of the CitizenBuonaparte, unemployed Artillery Officer, who took Toulon. A man ofhead, a man of action: Barras is named Commandant's-Cloak; this youngArtillery Officer is named Commandant. He was in the Gallery at themoment, and heard it; he withdrew, some half hour, to consider withhimself: after a half hour of grim compressed considering, to be or notto be, he answers Yea. And now, a man of head being at the centre of it, the whole matter getsvital. Swift, to Camp of Sablons; to secure the Artillery, there arenot twenty men guarding it! A swift Adjutant, Murat is the name of him, gallops; gets thither some minutes within time, for Lepelletier was alsoon march that way: the Cannon are ours. And now beset this post, andbeset that; rapid and firm: at Wicket of the Louvre, in Cul de SacDauphin, in Rue Saint-Honore, from Pont Neuf all along the north Quays, southward to Pont ci-devant Royal, --rank round the Sanctuary of theTuileries, a ring of steel discipline; let every gunner have his matchburning, and all men stand to their arms! Thus there is Permanent-session through night; and thus at sunrise ofthe morrow, there is seen sacred Insurrection once again: vessel ofState labouring on the bar; and tumultuous sea all round her, beatinggenerale, arming and sounding, --not ringing tocsin, for we have leftno tocsin but our own in the Pavilion of Unity. It is an imminence ofshipwreck, for the whole world to gaze at. Frightfully she labours, thatpoor ship, within cable-length of port; huge peril for her. However, shehas a man at the helm. Insurgent messages, received, and not received;messenger admitted blindfolded; counsel and counter-counsel: the poorship labours!--Vendemiaire 13th, year 4: curious enough, of all days, itis the Fifth day of October, anniversary of that Menad-march, six yearsago; by sacred right of Insurrection we are got thus far. Lepelletier has seized the Church of Saint-Roch; has seized the PontNeuf, our piquet there retreating without fire. Stray shots fall fromLepelletier; rattle down on the very Tuileries staircase. On the otherhand, women advance dishevelled, shrieking, Peace; Lepelletier behindthem waving its hat in sign that we shall fraternise. Steady! TheArtillery Officer is steady as bronze; can be quick as lightning. Hesends eight hundred muskets with ball-cartridges to the Conventionitself; honourable Members shall act with these in case of extremity:whereat they look grave enough. Four of the afternoon is struck. (Moniteur, Seance du 5 Octobre 1795. ) Lepelletier, making nothing bymessengers, by fraternity or hat-waving, bursts out, along the SouthernQuai Voltaire, along streets, and passages, treble-quick, in hugeveritable onslaught! Whereupon, thou bronze Artillery Officer--? "Fire!"say the bronze lips. Roar and again roar, continual, volcano-like, goes his great gun, in the Cul de Sac Dauphin against the Church ofSaint-Roch; go his great guns on the Pont Royal; go all his greatguns;--blow to air some two hundred men, mainly about the Church ofSaint-Roch! Lepelletier cannot stand such horse-play; no Sectioner canstand it; the Forty-thousand yield on all sides, scour towards covert. 'Some hundred or so of them gathered both Theatre de la Republique;but, ' says he, 'a few shells dislodged them. It was all finished atsix. ' The Ship is over the bar, then; free she bounds shoreward, --amidshouting and vivats! Citoyen Buonaparte is 'named General of theInterior, by acclamation;' quelled Sections have to disarm in suchhumour as they may; sacred right of Insurrection is gone for ever!The Sieyes Constitution can disembark itself, and begin marching. Themiraculous Convention Ship has got to land;--and is there, shall wefiguratively say, changed, as Epic Ships are wont, into a kind ofSea Nymph, never to sail more; to roam the waste Azure, a Miracle inHistory! 'It is false, ' says Napoleon, 'that we fired first with blank charge;it had been a waste of life to do that. ' Most false: the firing was withsharp and sharpest shot: to all men it was plain that here was no sport;the rabbets and plinths of Saint-Roch Church show splintered by it, tothis hour. --Singular: in old Broglie's time, six years ago, this Whiffof Grapeshot was promised; but it could not be given then, could nothave profited then. Now, however, the time is come for it, and theman; and behold, you have it; and the thing we specifically call FrenchRevolution is blown into space by it, and become a thing that was!-- Homer's Epos, it is remarked, is like a Bas-relief sculpture: it doesnot conclude, but merely ceases. Such, indeed, is the Epos of UniversalHistory itself. Directorates, Consulates, Emperorships, Restorations, Citizen-Kingships succeed this Business in due series, in due genesisone out of the other. Nevertheless the First-parent of all these may besaid to have gone to air in the way we see. A Baboeuf Insurrection, next year, will die in the birth; stifled by the Soldiery. A Senate, iftinged with Royalism, can be purged by the Soldiery; and an Eighteenthof Fructidor transacted by the mere shew of bayonets. (Moniteur, du 5Septembre 1797. ) Nay Soldiers' bayonets can be used a posteriori on aSenate, and make it leap out of window, --still bloodless; and producean Eighteenth of Brumaire. (9th November 1799, Choix des Rapports, xvii. 1-96. ) Such changes must happen: but they are managed by intriguings, caballings, and then by orderly word of command; almost like merechanges of Ministry. Not in general by sacred right of Insurrection, but by milder methods growing ever milder, shall the Events of Frenchhistory be henceforth brought to pass. It is admitted that this Directorate, which owned, at its starting, these three things, an 'old table, a sheet of paper, and an ink-bottle, 'and no visible money or arrangement whatever, (Bailleul, Examen critiquedes Considerations de Madame de Stael, ii. 275. ) did wonders: thatFrance, since the Reign of Terror hushed itself, has been a new France, awakened like a giant out of torpor; and has gone on, in the InternalLife of it, with continual progress. As for the External form and formsof Life, --what can we say except that out of the Eater there comesStrength; out of the Unwise there comes not Wisdom! Shams are burnt up;nay, what as yet is the peculiarity of France, the very Cant of themis burnt up. The new Realities are not yet come: ah no, only Phantasms, Paper models, tentative Prefigurements of such! In France there are nowFour Million Landed Properties; that black portent of an Agrarian Law isas it were realised! What is still stranger, we understand all Frenchmenhave 'the right of duel;' the Hackney-coachman with the Peer, if insultbe given: such is the law of Public Opinion. Equality at least in death!The Form of Government is by Citizen King, frequently shot at, not yetshot. On the whole, therefore, has it not been fulfilled what was prophesied, ex-postfacto indeed, by the Archquack Cagliostro, or another? He, ashe looked in rapt vision and amazement into these things, thus spake:(Diamond Necklace, p. 35. ) 'Ha! What is this? Angels, Uriel, Anachiel, and the other Five; Pentagon of Rejuvenescence; Power that destroyedOriginal Sin; Earth, Heaven, and thou Outer Limbo, which men nameHell! Does the EMPIRE Of IMPOSTURE waver? Burst there, in starry sheenupdarting, Light-rays from out its dark foundations; as it rocks andheaves, not in travail-throes, but in death-throes? Yea, Light-rays, piercing, clear, that salute the Heavens, --lo, they kindle it; theirstarry clearness becomes as red Hellfire! 'IMPOSTURE is burnt up: one Red-sea of Fire, wild-billowing enwraps theWorld; with its fire-tongue, licks at the very Stars. Thrones are hurledinto it, and Dubois mitres, and Prebendal Stalls that drop fatness, and--ha! what see I?--all the Gigs of Creation; all, all! Wo is me!Never since Pharaoh's Chariots, in the Red-sea of water, was there wreckof Wheel-vehicles like this in the Sea of Fire. Desolate, as ashes, as gases, shall they wander in the wind. Higher, higher yet flames theFire-Sea; crackling with new dislocated timber; hissing with leatherand prunella. The metal Images are molten; the marble Images becomemortar-lime; the stone Mountains sulkily explode. RESPECTABILITY, withall her collected Gigs inflamed for funeral pyre, wailing, leaves theearth: not to return save under new Avatar. Imposture, how it burns, through generations: how it is burnt up; for a time. The World is blackashes; which, ah, when will they grow green? The Images all run intoamorphous Corinthian brass; all Dwellings of men destroyed; the verymountains peeled and riven, the valleys black and dead: it is an emptyWorld! Wo to them that shall be born then!--A King, a Queen (ahme!) were hurled in; did rustle once; flew aloft, crackling, likepaper-scroll. Iscariot Egalite was hurled in; thou grim De Launay, withthy grim Bastille; whole kindreds and peoples; five millions of mutuallydestroying Men. For it is the End of the Dominion of IMPOSTURE (whichis Darkness and opaque Firedamp); and the burning up, with unquenchablefire, of all the Gigs that are in the Earth. ' This Prophecy, we say, hasit not been fulfilled, is it not fulfilling? And so here, O Reader, has the time come for us two to part. Toilsomewas our journeying together; not without offence; but it is done. To methou wert as a beloved shade, the disembodied or not yet embodied spiritof a Brother. To thee I was but as a Voice. Yet was our relation a kindof sacred one; doubt not that! Whatsoever once sacred things becomehollow jargons, yet while the Voice of Man speaks with Man, hast thounot there the living fountain out of which all sacrednesses sprang, and will yet spring? Man, by the nature of him, is definable as 'anincarnated Word. ' Ill stands it with me if I have spoken falsely: thinealso it was to hear truly. Farewell. THE END. INDEX. ABBAYE, massacres, Jourgniac, Sicard, and Maton's account of. ACCEPTATION, grande, by Louis XVI. AGOUST, Captain d', seizes two Parlementeers. AIGUILLON, d', at Quiberon, account of, in favour, at death of Louis XV. AINTRIGUES, Count d'. ALTAR of Fatherland in Champ-de-Mars, scene at, christening at. AMIRAL, assassin, guillotined. ANGLAS, Boissy d', President, First of Prairial. ANGOULEME, Duchesse d', parts from her father. ANGREMONT, Collenot d', guillotined. ANTOINETTE, Marie, splendour of, applauded, compromised by DiamondNecklace, griefs of, weeps, unpopular, at Dinner of Guards, courageof, Fifth October, at Versailles, shows herself to people, and Louis atTuileries, and the Lorrainer, and Mirabeau, previous to flight, flightfrom Tuileries, captured, and Barnave, Coblentz intrigues, and Lamotte'sMemoires, during Twentieth June, during Tenth August, as captive, andPrincess de Lamballe, in Temple Prison, parting scene with King, to theConciergerie, trial of, guillotined. ARGONNE Forest, occupied by Dumouriez, Brunswick at. ARISTOCRATS, officers in French army, number in Paris, seized, conditionin 1794. ARLES, state of. ARMS, smiths making, search for, at Charleville, manufacture, in 1794, scarcity in 1792, Danton's search for. ARMY, French, after Bastille, officered by aristocrats, to be disbanded, demands arrears, general mutiny of, outbreak of, Nanci militaryexecutions, Royalists leave, state of, in want, recruited, Revolutionary, fourteen armies on foot. ARRAS, guillotine at. ARRESTS in August 1792. ARSENAL, attempted destruction of. ARTOIS, M. D', ways of, unpopularity of, memorial by, flies, atCoblentz, refusal to return. ASSEMBLIES, Primary and Secondary. ASSEMBLY, National, Third Estate becomes, to be extruded, stands groupedin the rain, occupies Tennis-Court, scene there, joined by clergy, doings on King's speech, ratified by King, cannon pointed at, regretsNecker, after Bastille. ASSEMBLY, Constituent, National, becomes, pedantic, Irregular Verbs, what it can do, Night of Pentecost, Left and Right side, raises money, on the Veto, Fifth October, women, in Paris Riding-Hall, on deficit, assignats, on clergy, and riot, prepares for Louis's visit, onFederation, Anacharsis Clootz, eldest of men, on Franklin's death, onstate of army, thanks Bouille, on Nanci affair, on Emigrants, ondeath of Mirabeau, on escape of King, after capture of King, completesConstitution, dissolves itself, what it has done. ASSEMBLY, Legislative, First French Parliament, book of law, disputewith King, Baiser de Lamourette, High Court, decrees vetoed, scenes in, reprimands King's ministers, declares war, declares France in danger, reinstates Petion, nonplused, Lafayette, King and Swiss, August Tenth, becoming defunct, September massacres, dissolved. ASSIGNATS, origin of, false Royalist, forgers of, coach-fare in. AUBRIOT, Sieur, after King's capture. AUBRY, Colonel, at Jales. AUCH, M. Martin d', in Versailles Court. AUSTRIA quarrels with France. AUSTRIAN Committee, at Tuileries. AUSTRIAN Army, invades France, defeated at Jemappes, Dumouriez escapesto, repulsed, Watigny. AVIGNON, Union of, described, state of, riot in church at, occupied byJourdan, massacre at. BACHAUMONT, his thirty volumes. BAILLE, involuntary epigram of. BAILLY, Astronomer, account of, President of National Assembly, Mayorof Paris, receives Louis in Paris, and Paris Parlement, on Petitionfor Deposition, decline of, in prison, at Queen's trial, guillotinedcruelly. BAKERS', French in tail at. BARBAROUX and Marat, Marseilles Deputy, and the Rolands, on Map ofFrance, demand of, to Marseilles, meets Marseillese, in NationalConvention, against Robespierre, cannot be heard, the Girondinsdeclining, arrested, and Charlotte Corday, retreats to Bourdeaux, farewell of, shoots himself. BARDY, Abbe, massacred. BARENTIN, Keeper of Seals. BARNAVE, at Grenoble, member of Assembly, one of a trio, Jacobin, duelwith Cazales, escorts the King from Varennes, conciliates Queen, becomesConstitutional, retires to Grenoble, treason, in prison, guillotined. BARRAS, Paul-Francois, in National Convention, commands in Thermidor, appoints Napoleon in Vendemiaire. BARRERE, Editor, at King's trial, peace-maker, levy in mass, plot, banished. BARTHOLOMEW massacre. BASTILLE, Linguet's Book on, meaning of, shots fired at, summoned byinsurgents, besieged, capitulates, treatment of captured, Queret-Demery, demolished, key sent to Washington, Heroes. BAZIRE, of Mountain, imprisoned. BEARN, riot at. BEAUHARNAIS in Champ-de-Mars, Josephine, imprisoned, and Napoleon, at LaCabarus's. BEAUMARCHAIS, Caron, his lawsuit, his 'Mariage de Figaro, ' commissionsarms from Holland, his distress. BEAUMONT, Archbishop, notice of. BEAUREPAIRE, Governor of Verdun, shoots himself. BENTHAM, Jeremy, naturalised. BERLINE, towards Varennes. BERTHIER, Intendant, fled, arrested and massacred. BERTHIER, Commandant, at Versailles. BESENVAL, Baron, Commandant of Paris, on French Finance, in riot of RueSt. Antoine, on corruption of Guards, at Champ-de-Mars, apparition to, decamps, and Louis XVI. BETHUNE, riot at. BEURNONVILLE, with Dumouriez, imprisoned. BILLAUD-VARENNES, Jacobin, cruel, at massacres, September 1792, in SalutCommittee, and Robespierre's Etre Supreme, accuses Robespierre, accused, banished. BLANC, Le, landlord at Varennes, escape of family. BLOOD, baths of. BONCHAMPS, in La Vendee War. BONNEMERE, Aubin, at Siege of Bastille. BOUILLE, at Metz, account of, character of, troops mutinous, and Salmregiment, intrepidity of, marches on Nanci, quells Nanci mutineers, at Mirabeau's funeral, expects fugitive King, would liberate King, emigrates. BOUILLE, Junior, asleep at Varennes, flies to father. BOURDEAUX, priests hanged at, for Girondism. BOYER, duellist. BREST, sailors revolt, state of, in 1791, Federes in Paris, in 1793. BRETEUIL, Home-Secretary. BRETON Club, germ of Jacobins. BRETONS, deputations of, Girondins. BREZE, Marquis de, his mode of ushering, and National Assembly, extraordinary etiquette. BRIENNE, Lomenie, anti-protestant, in Notables, incapacity of, failureof, arrests Paris Parlement, secret scheme, scheme discovered, arreststwo Parlementeers, bewildered, desperate shifts by, wishes for Necker, dismissed, and provided for, his effigy burnt. BRISSAC, Duke de, commands Constitutional Guard, disbanded. BRISSOT, edits 'Moniteur, ' friend of Blacks, in First Parliament, plans in 1792, active in Assembly, in Jacobins, at Roland's, pelted inAssembly, arrested, trial of, guillotined. BRITTANY, disturbances in. BROGLIE, Marshal, against Plenary Court, in command, in office, dismissed. BRUNSWICK, Duke, marches on France, advances, Proclamation, at Verdun, at Argonne, retreats. BUFFON, Mme. De, and Duke d'Orleans, at d'Orleans execution. BUTTAFUOCO, Napoleon's letter to. BUZOT, in National Convention, arrested, retreats to Bourdeaux, end of. CABANIS, Physician to Mirabeau. CABARUS, Mlle. , and Tallien, imprisoned. CAEN, Girondins at. CALENDAR, Romme's new, comparative ground-scheme of. CALONNE, M. De, Financier, character of, suavity and genius of, hisdifficulties, dismissed, marriage and after-course. CALVADOS, for Girondism. CAMUS, Archivist, in National Convention, with Dumouriez, imprisoned. CANNON, Siamese, wooden, fever, Goethe on. CARMAGNOLE, costume, what, dances in Convention. CARNOT, Hippolyte, notice of, plan for Toulon, discovery inRobespierre's pocket. CARPENTRAS, against Avignon. CARRA, on plots for King's flight, in National Convention. CARRIER, a Revolutionist, in National Assembly, Nantes noyades, guillotined. CARTAUX, General, fights Girondins, at Toulon. CASTRIES, Duke de, duel with Lameth. CATHELINEAU, of La Vendee. CAVAIGNAC, Convention Representative. CAZALES, Royalist, in Constituent Assembly. CAZOTTE, author of 'Diable Amoureux, ' seized, saved for a time by hisdaughter. CERCLE, Social, of Fauchet. CERUTTI, his funeral oration on Mirabeau. CEVENNES, revolt of. CHABOT, of Mountain, against Kings, imprisoned. CHABRAY, Louison, at Versailles, October Fifth. CHALIER, Jacobin, Lyons, executed, body raised. CHAMBON, Dr. , Mayor of Paris, retires. CHAMFORT, Cynic, arrested, suicide. CHAMP-DE-MARS, Federation, preparations for, accelerated by patriots, anecdotes of, Federation-scene at, funeral-service, Nanci, riot, Patriotpetition, 1791, new Federation, 1792. CHAMPS Elysees, Menads at, festivities in. CHANTILLY Palace, a prison. CHAPT-RASTIGNAC, Abbe de, massacred. CHARENTON, Marseillese at. CHARLES I. , Trial of, sold in Paris. CHARLEVILLE Artillery. CHARTRES, grain-riot at. CHATEAUBRIANDS in French Revolution. CHATELET, Achille de, advises Republic. CHATILLON-SUR-SEVRE, insurrection at. CHAUMETTE, notice of, signs petition, in governing committee, at King'strial, demands constitution, arrest and death of. CHAUVELIN, Marquis de, in London, dismissed. CHENAYE, Baudin de la, massacred. CHENIER, Poet, and Mlle. Theroigne. CHEPY, at La Force in September. CHOISEUL, Duke, why dismissed. CHOISEUL, Colonel Duke, assists Louis's flight, too late at Varennes. CHOISI, General, at Avignon. CHURCH, spiritual guidance, of Rome, decay of. CITIZENS, French, demeanour of. CLAIRFAIT, Commander of Austrians. CLAVIERE, edits 'Moniteur, ' account of, Finance Minister, arrested, suicide of. CLERGY, French, in States-General, conciliators of orders, joins ThirdEstate, lands, national, power of, &c. CLERMONT, flight of King through, Prussians near. CLERY, on Louis's last scene. CLOOTZ, Anacharsis, Baron de, account of, disparagement of, in NationalConvention, universal republic of, on nullity of religion, purged fromthe Jacobins, guillotined. CLOVIS, in the Champ-de-Mars. CLUB, Electoral, at Paris, becomes Provisional Municipality, permanent. CLUGNY, M. , as Finance Minister. COBLENTZ, Emigrants at. COBOURG and Dumouriez. COCKADES, green, tricolor, black, national, trampled, white. COFFINHAL, Judge, delivers Henriot. COIGNY, Duke de, a sinecurist. COMMISSIONERS, Convention, like Kings. COMMITTEE of Defence, Central, of Watchfulness, of Public Salvation, Circular of, of the Constitution, Revolutionary. COMMUNE, Council-General of the, Sovereign of France, enlisting. CONDE, Prince de, attends Louis XV. , departure of. CONDE, Town, surrender of. CONDORCET, Marquis, edits 'Moniteur, ' Girondist, prepares Address, onRobespierre, death of. CONSTITUTION, French, completed, will not march, burst in pieces, new, of 1793. CONVENTION, National, in what case to be summoned, demanded by some, determined on, Deputies elected, constituted, motions in, work to bedone, hated, politeness, effervescence of, on September Massacres, guardfor, try the King, debate on trial, invite to revolt, condemn Louis, armed Girondins in, power of, removes to Tuileries, besieged, June 2nd, 1793, extinction of Girondins, Jacobins and, on forfeited property, Carmagnole, Goddess of Reason, Representatives, at Feast of EtreSupreme, end of Robespierre, retrospect of, Feraud, Germinal, Prairial, termination, its successor. CORDAY, Charlotte, account of, in Paris, assissinates Marat, examined, executed. CORDELIERS, Club, Hebert in. COURT, Chevalier de. COUTHON, of Mountain, in Legislative, in National Convention, at Lyons, in Salut Committee, his question in Jacobins, decree of, arrest andexecution. COVENANT, Scotch, French. CRUSSOL, Marquise de, executed. CUISSA, massacre of, at La Force. CUSSY, Girondin, retreats to Bourdeaux. CUSTINE, General, takes Mentz, retreats, censured, guillotined, his songuillotined. CUSTOMS and morals. DAMAS, Colonel Comte de, at Clermont, at Varennes. DAMPIERRE, General, killed. DAMPMARTIN, Captain, at riot in Rue St. Antoine, on condition of army, on state of France, at Avignon, on Marseillese. DANDOINS, Captain, Flight to Varennes. DANTON, notice of, President of Cordeliers, and Marat, served withwrits, in Cordeliers Club, elected Councillor, Mirabeau of Sansculottes, in Jacobins, for Deposition, of Committee, August Tenth, Minister ofJustice, after September massacre, after Jemappes, and Robespierre, inNetherlands, at King's trial, on war, rebukes Marat, peace-maker, andDumouriez, in Salut Committee, breaks with Girondins, his law of Fortysous, and Revolutionary Government, and Paris Municipality, retires toArcis, and Robespierre, arrested, tried, and guillotined. DAVID, Painter, in National Convention, works by, hemlock withRobespierre. DEMOCRACY, on Bunker Hill, spread of, in France. DEPARTMENTS, France divided into. DESEZE, Pleader for Louis. DESHUTTES massacred, Fifth October. DESILLES, Captain, in Nanci. DESLONS, Captain, at Varennes, would liberate the King. DESMOULINS, Camille, notice of, in arms at Cafe de Foy, on Insurrectionof Women, in Cordeliers Club, and Brissot, in National Convention, onSansculottism, on plots, suspect, for a committee of mercy, ridiculeslaw of the suspect, his Journal, trial of, guillotined, widowguillotined. DIDEROT, prisoner in Vincennes. DINNERS, defined. DOPPET, General, at Lyons. DROUET, Jean B. , notice of, discovers Royalty in flight, raisesVarennes, blocks the bridge, defends his prize, rewarded, to be inConvention, captured by Austrians. DUBARRY, Dame, and Louis XV. , flight of, imprisoned. DUBOIS Crance bombards and captures Lyons. DUCHATEL votes, wrapped in blankets, at Caen. DUCOS, Girondin. DUGOMMIER, General, at Toulon. DUHAMEL, killed by Marseillese. DUMONT, on Mirabeau. DUMOURIEZ, notice by, account of him, in Brittany, at Nantes, inLa Vendee, sent for to Paris, Foreign Minister, dismissed, to Army, disobeys Luckner, Commander-in-Chief, his army, Council of War, seizesArgonne Forest, Grand Pre, and mutineers, and Marat in Paris, toNetherlands, at Jemappes, in Paris, discontented, retreats, beaten, willjoin the enemy, arrests his arresters, escapes to Austrians. DUPONT, Deputy, Atheist. DUPORT, Adrien, in Paris Parlement, in Constituent Assembly, one of atrio, law-reformer. DUPORTAIL, in office. DUROSOY, Royalist, guillotined. DUSAULX, M. , on taking of Bastille, notice of. DUTERTRE, in office. EDGEWORTH, Abbe, attends Louis, at execution of Louis. EGLANTINE, Fabre d', in National Convention, assists in New Calendar, imprisoned. ELIE, Capt. , at Siege of Bastille, after victory. ELIZABETH, Princess, flight to Varennes, August 10th, in Temple Prison, guillotined. ENGLAND declares war on France, captures Toulon. ENRAGED Club, the. EQUALITY, reign of. ESCUYER, Patriot l', at Avignon. ESPREMENIL, Duval d', notice of, patriot, speaker in Paris Parlement, with crucifix, discovers Brienne's plot, arrest and speech of, turncoat, in Constituent Assembly, beaten by populace, guillotined, widowguillotined. ESTAING, Count d', notice of, National Colonel, Royalist, at Queen'sTrial. ESTATE, Fourth, of Editors. ETOILE, beginning of Federation at. FAMINE, in France, in 1788-1792, Louis and Assembly try to relieve, in1792, and remedy, remedy by maximum, &c. FAUCHET, Abbe, at siege of Bastille, his Te-Deums, his harangue onFranklin, his Cercle Social, in First Parliament, motion by, doffs hisinsignia, King's death, lamentation, will demit, trial of. FAUSSIGNY, sword in hand. FAVRAS, Chevalier, execution of. FEDERATION, spread of, of Champ-de-Mars, deputies to, human species at, ceremonies of, a new, 1792. FERAUD, in National Convention, massacred there. FERSEN, Count, gets Berline built, acts coachman in King's flight. FEUILLANS, Club, denounce Jacobins, decline, extinguished, Battalion, Justices and Patriotism. FINANCES, serious state of, how to be improved. FLANDERS, how Louis XV. Conquers. FLANDRE, regiment de, at Versailles. FLESSELLES, Paris Provost, shot. FLEURIOT, Mayor, guillotined. FLEURY, Joly de, Controller of Finance. FONTENAI, Mme. FORSTER (FOSTER), and French soldier, account of. FOUCHE, at Lyons. FOULON, bad repute of, sobriquet, funeral of, alive, judged, massacred. FOURNIER, and Orleans Prisoners. FOY, Cafe de, revolutionary. FRANCE, abject, under Louis XV. , Kings of, early history of, decay ofKingship in, on accession of Louis XVI. , and Philosophy, famine in, 1775, state of, prior Revolution, aids America, in 1788, inflammable, July 1789, gibbets, general overturn, how to reform, riotousness of, Mirabeau and, after King's flight, petitions against Royalty, warfare oftowns in, European league against, terror of, in Spring 1792, decree ofwar, France in danger, general enlisting, rage of, Autumn 1792, Marat'sCircular, September, Sansculottic, declaration of war, Mountain andGirondins divide, communes of, coalition against, levy in mass. FRANKLIN, Ambassador to France, his death lamented, bust in Jacobins. FRENCH Anglomania, character of the, literature, in 1784, Parlements, nature of, Mirabeau, type of the, mob, character of. FRERON, notice of, renegade, Gilt Youth of. FRETEAU, at Royal Session, arrested, liberated. FREYS, the Jew brokers, imprisoned. GALLOIS, to La Vendee. GAMAIN, Sieur, informer. GARAT, Minister of Justice. GENLIS, Mme. , account of, and D'Orleans, to Switzerland. GENSONNE, Girondist, to La Vendee, arrested, trial of. GEORGES-CADOUDAL, in La Vendee. GEORGET, at taking of Bastille. GERARD, Farmer, Rennes deputy. GERLE, Dom, at Theot's. GERMINAL Twelfth, First of April 1795. GIRONDINS, origin of term, in National Convention, against Robespierre, on King's trial, and Jacobins, formula of, favourers of, schemes of, to be seized? break with Danton, armed against Mountain, accuseMarat, departments, commission of twelve, commission broken, arrested, dispersed, war by, retreat of eleven, trial and death of. GOBEL, Archbishop to be, renounces religion, arrested, guillotined. GOETHE, at Argonne, in Prussian retreat, at Mentz. GOGUELAT, Engineer, assists Louis's flight, intrigues. GONDRAN, captain of Guard. GORSAS, Journalist, pleads for Swiss, in National Convention, his housebroken into, guillotined. GOUJON, Member of Convention, in riot of Prairial, suicide of. GOUPIL, on extreme left. GOUVION, Major-General, at Paris, flight to Varennes, death of. GOVERNMENT, Maurepas's, bad state of French, French revolutionary, Danton on. GRAVE, Chev. De, War Minister, loses head. GREGOIRE, Cure, notice of, in National Convention, detained inConvention, and destruction of religion. GUADET, Girondin, cross-questions Ministers, arrested, guillotined. GUARDS, Swiss, and French, at Reveillon riot, French refuse to fire, come to Palais-Royal, fire on Royal-Allemand, to Bastille, name changed, National origin of, number of, Body at Versailles, October Fifth, fight, fly in Chateau, Body, and French, at Versailles, National, atNanci, French, last appearance of, National, how commanded, 1791, Constitutional, dismissed, Filles-St. -Thomas, routed, Swiss, atTuileries, ordered to cease, destroyed, eulogy of, Departmental, forNational Convention. GUILLAUME, Clerk, pursues King. GUILLOTIN, Doctor, summoned by Paris Parlement, invents the guillotine, deputed to King. GUILLOTINE invented, described, in action, to be improved, number ofsufferers by. HASSENFRATZ, in War-office. HEBERT, Editor of 'Pere Duchene, ' signs petition, arrested, at Queen'strial, quickens Revolutionary Tribunal, arrested, and guillotined, widowguillotined. HENAULT, President, on Surnames. HENRIOT, General of National Guard, and the Convention, to deliverRobespierre, seized, rescued, end of. HERBOIS, Collot d', notice of, in National Convention, at Lyonsmassacre, in Salut Committee, attempt to assassinate, bullied atJacobins, President, night of Thermidor, accused, banished. HERITIER, Jerome l', shot at Versailles. HOCHE, Sergeant Lazare, General against Prussia, pacifies La Vendee, HONDSCHOOTEN, Battle of. HOTEL des Invalides, plundered. HOTEL de Ville, after Bastille taken, harangues at. HOUCHARD, General, unsuccessful. HOWE, Lord, defeats French. HUGUENIN, Patriot, tocsin in heart, 20th June 1792. HULIN, half-pay, at siege of Bastille. INISDAL'S, Count d', plot. INSURRECTION, most sacred of duties, of Women, of August Tenth, difficult, of Paris, against Girondins, sacred right of, lastSansculottic, of Baboeuf. ISNARD, Max, notice of, in First Parliament, on Ministers, to demolishParis. JACOB, Jean Claude, father of men. JACOBINS, Society, beginning of, Hall, described, and members, Journal&c. , of, daughters of, at Nanci, suppressed, Club increases, andMirabeau, prospers, 'Lords of the Articles, ' extinguishes Feuillans, Hall enlarged, described, and Marseillese, and Lavergne, message toDumouriez, missionaries in Army, on King's trial, on accusation ofRobespierre, against Girondins, National Convention and, PopularTribunals of, purges members, to become dominant, locked out byLegendre, begs back its keys, decline of, mobbed, suspended, hunteddown. JALES, Camp of, Royalists at, destroyed. JAUCOURT, Chevalier, and Liberty. JAY, Dame le. JONES, Paul, equipped for America, at Paris, account of, burial of. JOUNNEAU, Deputy, in danger in September. JOURDAN, General, repels Austria. JOURDAN, Coupe-tete, at Versailles, leader of Brigands, supreme inAvignon, massacre by, flight of, guillotined. JULIEN, Sieur Jean, guillotined. KAUNITZ, Prince, denounces Jacobins. KELLERMANN, at Valmy. KLOPSTOCK, naturalised. KNOX, John, and the Virgin. KORFF, Baroness de, in flight to Varennes. LAFARGE, President of Jacobins, Madame Lavergne and. LAFAYETTE, bust of, erected, against Calonne, demands by, in Notables, Cromwell-Grandison, Bastille time, Vice-President of National Assembly, General of National Guard, resigns and reaccepts, Scipio-Americanus, thanked, rewarded, French Guards and, to Versailles, Fifth October, atVersailles, swears the Guards, Feuillant, on abolition of Titles, atChamp-de-Mars Federation, at De Castries' riot, character of, in Day ofPoniards, difficult position of, at King's going to St. Cloud, resignsand reaccepts, at flight from Tuileries, after escape of King, movesfor amnesty, resigns, decline of, doubtful against Jacobins, journey toParis, to be accused, flies to Holland. LAFLOTTE, poison-plot, informer. LAIS, Sieur, Jacobin, with Louis Philippe. LALLY, death of. LAMARCHE, guillotined. LAMARCK'S, illness of Mirabeau at. LAMBALLE, Princess de, to England, intrigues for Royalists, at La Force, massacred. LAMETH, in Constituent Assembly, one of a trio, brothers, notice of, Jacobins, Charles, Duke de Castries, brothers become constitutional, Theodore, in First Parliament. LAMOIGNON, Keeper of Seals, dismissed, effigy burned, and death of. LAMOTTE, Countess de, and Diamond Necklace, in the Salpetriere, 'Memoirs' burned, in London, M. De, in prison. LAMOURETTE, Abbe, kiss of, guillotined. LANJUINAIS, Girondin, clothes torn, arrested, recalled. LAPORTE, Intendant, guillotined. LARIVIERE, Justice, imprisoned. LA ROCHEJACQUELIN, in La Vendee, death of. LASOURCE, accuses Danton, president, and Marat, arrested, condemned. LATOUR-MAUBOURG, notice of. LAUNAY, Marquis de, Governor of Bastille, besieged, unassisted, to blowup Bastille, massacred. LAVERGNE, surrenders Longwi. LAVOISIER, Chemist, guillotined. LAW, Martial, in Paris, Book of the. LAWYERS, their influence on the Revolution, number of, in Tiers Etat, inParliament First. LAZARE, Maison de St. , plundered. LEBAS at Strasburg, arrested, LEBON, Priest, in National Convention, at Arras, guillotined. LECHAPELIER, Deputy, and Insurrection of Women. LECOINTRE, National Major, will not fight, active, in First Parliament. LEFEVRE, Abbe, distributes powder. LEGENDRE, in danger, at Tuileries riot, in National Convention, againstGirondins, for Danton, locks out Jacobins, in First of Prairial. LENFANT, Abbe, on Protestant claims, massacred. LEPELLETIER, Section for Convention, revolt of, in Vendemiaire. LETTRES-DE-CACHET, and Parlement of Paris. LEVASSEUR, in National Convention, Convention Representative. LIANCOURT, Duke de, Liberal, not a revolt, but a revolution. LIES, Philosophism on, to be extinguished, how. LIGNE, Prince de, death of. LILLE, Colonel Rouget de, Marseillese Hymn. LILLE, besieged. LINGUET, his 'Bastille Unveiled, ' returns. LOISEROLLES, General, guillotined for his son. LONGWI, surrender of, fugitives at Paris. LORDS of the Articles, Jacobins as. LORRAINE Federes and the Queen, state of, in 1790. LOUIS XIV. , l'etat c'est moi, booted in Parlement, pursues Louvois. LOUIS XV. , origin of his surname, last illness of, dismisses DameDubarry, Choiseul, wounded, has small-pox, his mode of conquest, impoverishes France, his daughters, on death, on ministerial capacity, death and burial of. LOUIS XVI. , at his accession, good measures of, temper and pursuits of, difficulties of, commences governing, and Notables, holds Royal Session, receives States-General Deputies, in States-General procession, speechto States-General, National Assembly, unwise policy of, dismissesNecker, apprised of the Revolution, conciliatory, visits Assembly, Bastille, visits Paris, deserted, will fly, languid, at Dinner ofGuards, deposition of, proposed, October Fifth, women deputies, to flyor not? grants the acceptance, Paris propositions to, in the Chateautumult, appears to mob, will go to Paris, his wisest course, processionto Paris, review of his position, lodged at Tuileries, Restorer ofFrench Liberty, no hunting, locksmith, schemes, visits Assembly, Federation, Hereditary Representative, will fly, and D'Inisdal's plot, Mirabeau, useless, indecision of, ill of catarrh, prepares for St. Cloud, hindered by populace, effect, should he escape, prepares forflight, his circular, flies, letter to Assembly, manner of flight, loiters by the way, detected by Drouet, captured at Varennes, indecisionthere, return to Paris, reception there, to be deposed? reinstated, reception of Legislative, position of, proposes war, with tears, vetoes, dissolves Roland Ministry, in riot of, June 20, and Petion, at Federation, with cuirass, declared forfeited, last levee of, TenthAugust, quits Tuileries for Assembly, in Assembly, sent to Templeprison, in Temple, to be tried, and the Locksmith Gamain, at the bar, his will, condemned, parting scene, and execution of, his son. LOUIS-PHILIPPE, King of the French, Jacobin door-keeper, at Valmy, bravery at Jemappes, and sister, with Dumouriez to Austrians, toSwitzerland. LOUSTALOT, Editor. LOUVET, his 'Chevalier de Faublas, ' his 'Sentinelles, ' and Robespierre, in National Convention, Girondin accuses Robespierre, arrested, retreatsto Bourdeaux, escape of, recalled. LUCKNER, Supreme General, and Dumouriez, guillotined. LUNEVILLE, Inspector Malseigne at. LUX, Adam, guillotined. LYONS, Federation at, disorders in, Chalier, Jacobin, executed at, capture of magazine, massacres at. MAILHE, Deputy, on trial of Louis. MAILLARD, Usher, at siege of Bastille, Insurrection of Women, drum, Champs Elysees, entering Versailles, addresses National Assembly there, signs Decheance petition, in September Massacres. MAILLE, Camp-Marshal, at Tuileries, massacred at La Force. MAILLY, Marshal, one of Four Generals. MALESHERBES, M. De, in King's Council, defends Louis. MALSEIGNE, Army Inspector, at Nanci, imprisoned, liberated. MANDAT, Commander of Guards, August, 1792. MANUEL, Jacobin, slow-sure, in August Tenth, in Governing Committee, haranguing at La Force, in National Convention, motions in, vote atKing's trial, in prison, guillotined. MARAT, Jean Paul, horseleech to D'Artois, notice of, against violence, at siege of Bastille, summoned by Constituent, not to be gagged, astir, how to regenerate France, police and, on abolition of titles, wouldgibbet Mirabeau, bust in Jacobins, concealed in cellars, in seat ofhonour, signs circular, elected to Convention, and Dumouriez, oaths by, in Convention, on sufferings of People, and Girondins, arrested, returnsin triumph, fall of Girondins. MARECHAL, Atheist, Calendar by. MARECHALE, the Lady, on nobility. MARSEILLES, Brigands at, on Decheance, the bar of iron, for Girondism. MARSEILLESE, March and Hymn of, at Charenton, at Paris, Filles-St. -Thomas and, barracks. MASSACRE, Avignon, September, number slain in, compared to Bartholomew. MATON, Advocate, his 'Resurrection. ' MAUPEOU, under Louis XV. , and Dame Dubarry. MAUREPAS, Prime Minister, character of, government of, death of. MAURY, Abbe, character of, in Constituent Assembly, seized emigrating, dogmatic, efforts fruitless, made Cardinal. MEMMAY, M. , of Quincey, explosion of rustics. MENOU, General, arrest of. MENTZ, occupied by French, siege of, surrender of. MERCIER, on Paris revolting, Editor, the September Massacre, in NationalConvention, King's trial. MERLIN of Thionville in Mountain, irascible, at Mentz. MERLIN of Douai, Law of Suspect. METZ, Bouille at, troops mutinous at. MEUDON tannery. MIOMANDRE de Ste. Marie, Bodyguard, October Fifth, left for dead, revives, rewarded. MIRABEAU, Marquis, on the state of France in 1775, and his son, hisdeath. MIRABEAU, Count, his pamphlets, the Notables, Lettres-de-Cachet against, expelled by the Provence Noblesse, cloth-shop, is Deputy for Aix, kingof Frenchmen, family of, wanderings of, his future course, groanedat, in Assembly, his newspaper suppressed, silences Usher de Breze, atBastille ruins, on Robespierre, fame of, on French deficit, populace, onveto, Mounier, October Fifth, insight of, defends veto, courage, revenueof, saleable? and Danton, on Constitution, at Jacobins, his courtship, on state of Army, Marat would gibbet, his power in France, on D'Orleans, on duelling, interview with Queen, speech on emigrants, the 'trentevoix, ' in Council, his plans for France, probable career of, lastappearance in Assembly, anxiety of populace for, last sayings of, deathand funeral of, burial-place of, character of, last of Mirabeaus, bustin Jacobins, bust demolished. MIRABEAU the younger, nicknamed Tonneau, in Constituent Assembly, breakshis sword. MIRANDA, General, attempts Holland. MIROMENIL, Keeper of Seals. MOLEVILLE, Bertrand de, Historian, minister, his plan, frivolous policyof, and D'Orleans, Jesuitic, concealed. MOMORO, Bookseller, agrarian, arrested, guillotined, his Wife, 'Goddessof Reason. ' MONGE, Mathematician, in office, assists in new Calendar. MONSABERT, G. De, President of Paris Parlement, arrested. MONTELIMART, covenant sworn at. MONTESQUIOU, General, takes Savoy. MONTGAILLARD, on captive Queen, on September Massacres. MONTMARTRE, trenches at. MONTMORIN, War-Secretary. MOORE, Doctor, at attack of Tuileries, at La Force. MORANDE, De, newspaper by, will return, in prison. MORELLET, Philosophe. MOUCHETON, M. De, of King's Bodyguard. MOUDON, Abbe, confessor to Louis XV. MOUNIER, at Grenoble, proposes Tennis-Court oath, October Fifth, President of Constituent Assembly, deputed to King, dilemma of. MOUNTAIN, members of the, re-elected in National Convention, Girondeand, favourers of the, vulnerable points of, prevails, Danton, Duperret, after Gironde dispersed, in labour. MULLER, General, expedition to Spain. MURAT, in Vendemiaire revolt. NANCI, revolt at, description of town, deputation imprisoned, deputationof mutineers, state of mutineers in, Bouille's fight, Paris thereupon, military executions at, Assembly Commissioners. NANTES, after King's flight, massacres at. NAPOLEON Bonaparte (Buonaparte) studying mathematics, pamphlet by, democratic, in Corsica, August Tenth, under General Cartaux, at Toulon, Josephine and, at La Cabarus's, Vendemiaire. NARBONNE, Louis de, assists flight of King's Aunts, to be War-Minister, demands by, secreted, escapes. NAVY, Louis XV. On French. NECKER, and finance, account of, dismissed, refuses Brienne, recalled, difficulty as to States-General, reconvokes Notables, opinion ofhimself, popular, dismissed, recalled, returns in glory, his plans, becoming unpopular, departs, with difficulty. NECKLACE, Diamond. NERWINDEN, battle of. NIEVRE-CHOL, Mayor of Lyons. NOBLES, state of the, under Louis XV. , new, join Third Estate. NOTABLES, Calonne's convocation of, assembled 22nd February 1787, members of, effects of dismissal of, reconvoked, 6th November 1788, dismissed again. NOYADES, Nantes. OCTOBER Fifth, 1789 OGE, condemned. ORLEANS, High Court at, prisoners massacred at Versailles. ORLEANS, a Duke d', in Louis XV. 's sick-room. ORLEANS, Philippe (Egalite), Duc d', Duke de Chartres (till 1785), waitson Dauphin, Father, with Louis XV. , not Admiral, wealth, debauchery, Palais-Royal buildings, in Notables (Duke d'Orleans now), looks of, Bed-of-Justice, 1787, arrested, liberated, in States-General Procession, joins Third Estate, his party, in Constituent Assembly, Fifth Octoberand, shunned in England, Mirabeau, cash deficiency, use of, inRevolution, accused by Royalists, at Court, insulted, in NationalConvention, decline of, in Convention, vote on King's trial, at King'sexecution, arrested, imprisoned, condemned, and executed. ORMESSON, d', Controller of Finance. PACHE, Swiss, account of, Minister of War, Mayor, dismissed, reinstated, imprisoned. PAN, Mallet du, solicits for Louis. PANIS, Advocate, in Governing Committee, and Beaumarchais, confidant ofDanton. PANTHEON, first occupant of. PARENS, Curate, renounces religion. PARIS, origin of city, police in 1750, ship Ville-de-Paris, riot atPalais-de-Justice, beautified, in 1788, election, 1789, troops calledto, military preparations in, July Fourteenth, cry for arms, search forarms, Bailly, mayor of, trade-strikes in, Lafayette patrols, OctoberFifth, propositions to Louis, Louis in, Journals, bill-stickers, undermined, after Champ-de-Mars Federation, on Nanci affair, on deathof Mirabeau, on flight to Varennes, on King's return, Directory suspendsPetion, enlisting, 1792, on forfeiture of King, Sections, rising of, August Tenth, prepares for insurrection, Municipality supplanted, statues destroyed, King and Queen to prison, September, 1792, names printed on house-door, in insurrection, Girondins, May 1793, Municipality in red caps, brotherly supper, Sections to be abolished. PARIS, Guardsman, assassinates Lepelletier. PARIS, friend of Danton. PARLEMENT, patriotic, against Taxation, remonstrates, at Versailles, arrested, origin of, nature of, corrupt, at Troyes, yields, RoyalSession in, how to be tamed, oath and declaration of, firmness of, scenein, and dismissal of, reinstated, unpopular, summons Dr. Guillotin, abolished. PARLEMENTS, Provincial, adhere to Paris, rebellious, exiled, granddeputations of, reinstated, abolished. PELTIER, Royalist Pamphleteer, 'Pere Duchene, ' Editor of. PEREYRA (Peyreyra), Walloon, account of, imprisoned. PETION, account of, Dutch-built, and D'Espremenil, to be mayor, Varennes, meets King, and Royalty, at close of Assembly, in London, Mayor of Paris, in Twentieth June, suspended, reinstated, welcomesMarseillese, August Tenth, in Tuileries, rebukes Septemberers, inNational Convention, declines mayorship, against Mountain, retreat toBourdeaux, end of. PETION, National-Pique, christening of. PETITION of famishing French, at Fatherland's altar, of the EightThousand. PETITIONS, on capture of King, for deposition, &c. PHELIPPEAUX, purged out of the Jacobins. PHILOSOPHISM, influence of, on Revolution, what it has done with Church, with Religion. PICHEGRU, General, account of, in Germinal. PILNITZ, Convention at. PIN, Latour du, War-Minister, dismissed. PITT, against France, and Girondins, inflexible. PLOTS, of King's flight, various, of Aristocrats, October Fifth, Royalist, of Favras and others, cartels, Twelve bullies fromSwitzerland, D'Inisdal, will-o'-wisp, Mirabeau and Queen, poniards, Mallet du Pan, Narbonne's, traces of, in Armoire-de-Fer, againstGirondins, Desmoulins on, prison. POLIGNAC, Duke de, a sinecurist, dismissed, at Bale, younger, in Ham. POMPIGNAN, President of National Assembly. POPE PIUS VI. , excommunicates Talleyrand, his effigy burned. PRAIRIAL First to Third, May 20-22, 1795. PRECY, siege of, Lyons. PRIESTHOOD, disrobing of, costumes in Carmagnole. PRIESTLEY, Dr. , riot against, naturalised, elected to NationalConvention. PRIESTS, dissident, marry in France, Anti-national, hanged, many killednear the Abbaye, number slain in September Massacre, to rescue Louis, drowned at Nantes. PRISONS, Paris, in Bastille time, full, August 1792, number of, inFrance, state of, in Terror, thinned after Terror. PRISON, Abbaye, refractory Members sent to, Temple, Louis sent to, Abbaye, Priests killed near, massacres at La Force, Chatelet, andConciergerie. PROCESSION, of States-General Deputies, of Necker and D'Orleansbusts, of Louis to Paris, again, after Varennes, of Louis to trial, atConstitution of 1793. PROVENCE Noblesse, expel Mirabeau. PRUDHOMME, Editor, on assassins, on Cavaignac. PRUSSIA, Fritz of, against France, army of, ravages France, King of, andFrench Princes. PUISAYE, Girondin General, at Quiberon. QUERET-DEMERY, in Bastille. QUIBERON, debarkation at. RABAUT, St. Etienne, French Reformer, in National Convention, inCommission of Twelve, arrested, between two walls, guillotined. RAYNAL, Abbe, Philosophe, his letter to Constituent Assembly. REBECQUI, of Marseilles, in National Convention, against Robespierre, retires, drowns himself. REDING, Swiss, massacred. RELIGION, Christian, and French Revolution, abolished, Clootz on, a new. REMY, Cornet, at Clermont. RENAULT, Cecile, to assassinate Robespierre, guillotined. RENE, King, bequeathed Avignon to Pope. RENNES, riot in. RENWICK, last of Cameronians. REPAIRE, Tardivet du, Bodyguard, Fifth October, rewarded. REPRESENTATIVES, Paris, Town. REPUBLIC, French, first mention of, first year of, established, universal, Clootz's, Girondin, one and indivisible, its triumphs. RESSON, Sieur, reports Lafayette to Jacobins. REVEILLON, house destroyed. REVOLT, Paris, in, of Gardes Francaises, becomes Revolution, military, what, of Lepelletier section. REVOLUTION, French, causes of the, Lord Chesterfield on the, not arevolt, meaning of the term, whence it grew, general commencement of, prosperous characters in, Philosophes and, state of army in, progressof, duelling in, Republic decided on, European powers and, Royalistopinion of, cardinal movements in, Danton and the, changes produced bythe, effect of King's death on, Girondin idea of, suspicion in, Terrorand, and Christian religion, Revolutionary Committees, Government doingsin, Robespierre essential to, end of. RHEIMS, in September massacre. RICHELIEU, at death of Louis XV. , death of. RIOT, Paris, in May 1750, Cornlaw (in 1775), at Palais de Justice(1787), triumph, of Rue St. Antoine, of July Fourteenth (1789), andBastille, at Strasburg, Paris, on the veto, Versailles Chateau, OctoberFifth (1789), uses of, to National Assembly, Paris, on Nanci affair, atDe Castries' Hotel, on flight of King's Aunts, at Vincennes, on King'sproposed journey to St. Cloud, in Champ-de-Mars, with sharp shot, Paris, Twentieth June, 1792, August Tenth, 1792, Grain, Paris, at Theatre dela Nation, selling sugar, of Thermidor, 1794, of Germinal, 1795, ofPrairial, final, of Vendemiaire. RIOUFFE, Girondin, to Bourdeaux, in prison, on death of Girondins, onMme. Roland. ROBESPIERRE, Maximilien, account of, derided in Constituent Assembly, Jacobin, incorruptible, on tip of left, elected public accuser, afterKing's flight, at close of Assembly, at Arras, position of, plans in1792, chief priest of Jacobins, invisible on August Tenth, reappears, on September Massacre, in National Convention, accused by Girondins, accused by Louvet, acquitted, King's trial, Condorcet on, at Queen'strial, in Salut Committee, and Paris Municipality, embraces Danton, Desmoulins and, and Danton, Danton on, at trial, his three scoundrels, supreme, to be assassinated, at Feast of Etre Supreme, apocalyptic, Theot, on Couthon's plot-decree, reserved, his schemes, fails inConvention, applauded at Jacobins, accused, rescued, at Townhall, declared out of law, half-killed, guillotined, essential to Revolution. ROBESPIERRE, Augustin, decreed accused, guillotined. ROCHAMBEAU, one of Four Generals, retires. ROCHE-AYMON, Grand Almoner of Louis XV. ROCHEFOUCAULT, Duke de la, Liberal, President of Directory, killed. ROEDERER, Syndic, Feuillant, 'Chronicle of Fifty Days, ' on FederesAmmunition, dilemma at Tuileries, August 10th. ROHAN, Cardinal, Diamond Necklace. ROLAND, Madame, notice of, at Lyons, narrative by, in Paris, afterKing's flight, and Barbaroux, public dinners and business, characterof, misgivings of, accused, Girondin declining, arrested, condemned andguillotined. ROLAND, M. , notice of, in Paris, Minister, letter, and dismissal of, recalled, decline of, on September Massacres, and Pache, doings of, resigns, flies, suicide of. ROMME, in National Convention, in Caen prison, his new Calendar, in riotof Prairial, 1795, suicide. ROMOEUF, pursues King. RONSIN, General of Revolutionary Army, arrested and guillotined. ROSIERE, Thuriot de la, summons Bastille, in First Parliament, inNational Convention, President at Robespierre's fall. ROSSIGNOL, in September Massacre, in La Vendee. ROUSSEAU, Jean-Jacques, Contrat Social of, Gospel according to, burial-place of, statue decreed to. ROUX, M. , 'Histoire Parlementaire. ' ROYALTY, signs of demolished, abolition of. RUAMPS, Deputy, against Couthon. RUHL, notice of, in riot of Prairial, suicide. SABATIER de Cabre, at Royal Session, arrested, liberated. ST. ANTOINE to Versailles, Warhorse supper, Nanci affair, at Vincennes, at Jacobins, and Marseillese, August Tenth. ST. CLOUD, Louis prohibited from. ST. DENIS, Mayor of, hanged. ST. FARGEAU, Lepelletier, in National Convention, at King's trial, assassinated, burial of. ST. HURUGE, Marquis, bull-voice, imprisoned, at Versailles, and Pope'seffigy, at Jacobins, on King's trial. ST. JUST in National Convention, on King's trial, in Salut Committee, at Strasburg, repels Prussians, on Revolution, in Committee-room, Thermidor, his report, arrested. ST. LOUIS Church, States-General procession from. ST. MEARD, Jourgniac de, in prison, his 'Agony' at La Force. ST. MERY, Moreau de, prostrated. SALLES, Deputy, guillotined. SANSCULOTTISM, apparition of, effects of, growth of, at work, origin ofterm, and Royalty, above theft, a fact, French Nation and, RevolutionaryTribunal and, how it lives, consummated, fall of, last rising of, deathof. SANTERRE, Brewer, notice of, at siege of Bastille, at Tuileries, JuneTwentieth, meets Marseillese, Commander of Guards, how to relievefamine, at King's trial, at King's execution, fails in La Vendee, St. Antoine disarmed. SAPPER, Fraternal. SAUSSE, M. , Procureur of Varennes, scene at his house, flies fromPrussians. SAVONNIERES, M. , de, Bodyguard, October Fifth, loses temper. SAVOY, occupied by French. SECHELLES, Herault de, in National Convention, leads Convention out, arrested and guillotined. SECTIONS, of Paris, denounce Girondins, Committee of. SEIGNEURS, French, compelled to fly. SERGENT, Agate, Engraver, in Committee, nicknamed 'Agate, ' signscircular. SERVAN, War-Minister, proposals of. SEVRES, Potteries, Lamotte's 'Memoires' burnt at. SICARD, Abbe, imprisoned, in danger near the Abbaye, account of massacrethere. SIDE, Right and Left, of Constituent Assembly, Right and Left, tip ofLeft, popular, Right after King's flight, Right quits Assembly, Rightand Left in First Parliament. SIEYES, Abbe, account of, Constitution-builder, in Champ-de-Mars, inNational Convention, of Constitution Committee, 1790, vote at King'strial, making fresh Constitution. SILLERY, Marquis. SIMON, Cordwainer, Dauphin committed to, guillotined. SIMONEAU, Mayor of Etampes, death of, festival for. SOMBREUIL, Governor of Hotel des Invalides, examined, seized, saved byhis daughter, guillotined, his son shot. SPAIN, at war with France, invaded by France. STAAL, Dame de, on liberty. STAEL, Mme. De, at States-General procession, intrigue for Narbonne, secretes Narbonne. STANHOPE and Price, their club and Paris. STATES-GENERAL, first suggested, meeting announced, how constituted, orders in, Representatives to, Parlements against, Deputies to, inParis, number of Deputies, place of Assembly, procession of, installed, union of orders. STRASBURG, riot at, in 1789. SUFFREN, Admiral, notice of. SULLEAU, Royalist, editor, massacred. SUSPECT, Law of the, Chaumette jeered on. SWEDEN, King of, to assist Marie Antoinette, shot by Ankarstrom. SWISS Guards at Brest, prisoners at La Force. TALLEYRAND-PERIGORD, Bishop, notice of, at fatherland's altar, hisblessing, excommunicated, in London, to America. TALLIEN, notice of, editor of 'Ami des Citoyens, ' in Committee ofTownhall, August 1792, in National Convention, at Bourdeaux, and MadameCabarus, recalled, suspect, accuses Robespierre, Thermidorian. TALMA, actor, his soiree. TANNERY of human skins, improvements in. TARGET, Advocate, declines King's defence. TASSIN, M. , and black cockade. TENNIS-COURT, National Assembly in, Club of, and procession to, masterof, rewarded. TERROR, consummation of, reign of, designated, number guillotined in. THEATINS Church, granted to Dissidents. THEOT, Prophetess, on Robespierre. THERMIDOR, Ninth and Tenth, July 27 and 28, 1794. THEROIGNE, Mlle. , notice of, in Insurrection of Women, at Versailles(October Fifth), in Austrian prison, in Jacobin tribune, armed forinsurrection (August Tenth), keeps her carriage, fustigated, insane. THIONVILLE besieged, siege raised. THOURET, Law-reformer, dissolves Assembly, guillotined. THOUVENOT and Dumouriez. TINVILLE, Fouquier, revolutionist, Jacobin, Attorney-General in TribunalRevolutionnaire, at Queen's trial, at trial of Girondins, at trial ofMme. Roland, at trial of Danton, and Salut Public, his prison-plots, his batches, the prisons under, mock doom of, at trial of Robespierre, accused, guillotined. TOLLENDAL, Lally, pleads for father, in States-General, popular, crowned. TORNE, Bishop. TOULON, Girondin, occupied by English, besieged, surrenders. TOULONGEON, Marquis, notice of, on Barnave triumvirate, describesJacobins Hall. TOURNAY, Louis, at siege of Bastille. TOURZELLE, Dame de, escape of. TRONCHET, Advocate, defends King. TUILERIES, Louis XVI. Lodged at, a tile-field, Twentieth June at, tickets of entry, 'Coblentz, ' Marseillese chase Filles-Saint-Thomasto, August Tenth, King quits, attacked, captured, occupied by NationalConvention. TURGOT, Controller of France, on Corn-law, dismissed, death of. TYRANTS, French people rise against. UNITED STATES, declaration of Liberty, embassy to Louis XVI. , aided byFrance, of Congress in. USHANT, battle off. VALADI, Marquis, Gardes Francaises and, guillotined. VALAZE, Girondin, on trial of Louis, plots at his house, trial of, killshimself. VALENCIENNES, besieged, surrendered. VARENNE, Maton de la, his experiences in September. VARIGNY, Bodyguard, massacred. VARLET, 'Apostle of Liberty, ' arrested. VENDEE, La, Commissioners to, state of, in 1792, insurrection in, war, after King's death, on fire, pacificated. VENDEMIAIRE, Thirteenth, October 4, 1795. VERDUN, to be besieged, surrendered. VERGENNES, M. De, Prime Minister, death of. VERGNIAUD, notice of, August Tenth, orations of, President at King'scondemnation, in fall of Girondins, trial of, at last supper ofGirondins. VERMOND, Abbe de. VERSAILLES, death of Louis XV. At, in Bastille time, National Assemblyat, troops to, march of women on, of French Guards on, insurrectionscene at, the Chateau forced, prisoners massacred at. VIARD, Spy. VILATE, Juryman, guillotined, book by. VILLARET-JOYEUSE, Admiral, defeated by Howe. VILLEQUIER, Duke de, emigrates. VINCENNES, riot at, saved by Lafayette. VINCENT, of War-Office, arrested, guillotined. VOLTAIRE, at Paris, described, burial-place of. WAR, civil, becomes general. WASHINGTON, key of Bastille sent to, formula for Lafayette. WATIGNY, Battle of. WEBER, in Insurrection of Women, Queen leaving Vienna. WESTERMANN, August Tenth, purged out of the Jacobins, tried andguillotined. WIMPFEN, Girondin General. YORK, Duke of, besieges Valenciennes and Dunkirk. YOUNG, Arthur, at French Revolution.