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848 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1837
Act I. The Bastille.
I.i. Death of Louis XV
I.ii. The Paper Age
I.iii. The Parlement of Paris
I.iv. States-General
I.v. The Third Estate
I.vi. Consolidation
I. vii. The Insurrection of Women
Act II. The Constitution
II.i. The Feast of Pikes
II.ii. Nanci
II.iii. The Tuleries
II.iv. Varennes
II.v. Parliament First
II.vi. The Marseillese
Act III. The Guilotine
III.i. September
III.ii. Regicide
III.iii. The Girondins
III.iv. Terror
III.v. Terror the Order of the Day
III.vi. Thermidor
III.vii. Vendemiaire
But now finally the Sun, on Monday the 4th of May, has risen; - unconcerned, as if it were no special day. And yet, as his first rays could strike music from the Memnon's Statue on the Nile, what tones were these, so thrilling, of preparation and foreboding, which he awoke in every bosom at Versailles …
o o o
Rejoice nevertheless, ye Versailles multitudes; to you, from whom all this is hid, the glorious end of it is visible. This day, sentence of death is pronounced on Shams; judgment of resuscitation, were it but afar off, is pronounced on Realities. This day, it is declared aloud, as with a Doom-trumpet, that a Lie is unbelievable. …
Behold, however! The doors of St. Louis Church flung wide; and the Procession of Processions advancing towards Notre-Dame! Shouts rend the air … The Elected of France, and then the Court of France, they are marshalled and march here … Some Fourteen Hundred Men blown together from all winds, on the deepest errand.
Yes, in that silent marching mass … is a Covenant; they too preside at a new Era in the History of Man. The whole Future is there, and Destiny -ill-brooding over it …
Meanwhile, suppose we too, good Reader, should, as now without miracle Muse Clio enables us - take our station … to glance momentarily over this Procession ...
… As we gaze fixedly, do not nameless Figures not a few, which shall not always be nameless, disclose themselves… Young Baroness de Stael – she evidently looks from a window ...
But where is the brown-locked, light-behaved, fire-hearted Demoiselle Theroigne? … who, with thy winged words and glances, shall thrill rough bosoms, whole steel battalions, and persuade an Austrian Kaiser …
Of the rougher sex how … enumerate the notabilities! Has not Marquis Valadi hastily quitted his Quaker broadbrim .. De Morande from his Courrier de l'Europe; Linguet from his Annales, they looked eager through the London fog, and became ex-Editors - that they might feed the guillotine…
o o o
Surely also, in some place not of honour, stands or sprawls up querulous, that he too, though short, may see - one squalidest bleared mortal, redolent of soot and horse-drugs: Jean Paul Marat of Neuchatel! O Marat, Renovator of Human Science, lecturer on Optics; O thou remarkablest Horseleech, once in D'Artois' Stables – as thy bleared soul looks forth, through thy bleared, dull-acrid, woe-stricken face, what sees it in all this? Any faintest light of hope, like dayspring after Nova-Zembla night? Or is it but blue sulphur-light, and specters; woe, suspicion, revenge without end?
… Two other Figures, and only two, we signalize there. The huge, brawny Figure; through whose black brows, and rude flattened face (figure ecrasee), there looks a waste energy as of Hercules not yet furibund – he is an esurient, unprovided Advocate; Danton by name him mark. Then that other, his slight-built comrade, and craft-brother; he with the long curling locks; with the face of dingy blackguardism, wondrously irradiated with genius, as if a naphtha-lamp burnt within it: that Figure is Camille Desmoulins … Thou poor Camille, say of thee what they may, it were but falsehood to pretend one did not almost love thee, thou headlong lightly sparkling man! But the brawny, not yet furibund Figure, we say, is Jacques Danton; a name that shall be "tolerably known in the Revolution." He is President of the electoral Cordeliers District at Paris, or about to be it; and shall open his lungs of brass.
We dwell no more on the mixed shouting Multitude: for now, behold, the Common Deputies are at hand!
And so here, Reader, has the time come for us two to part. Toilsome was our journeying together, not without offence; but it is done. To me thou wert as a beloved shade, the disembodied or not yet embodied spirit of a Brother [or Sister]. To thee I was but as a Voice. Yet was our relation a kind of scared [sic - ?] one; doubt not that! For whatsoever once sacred things become hollow jargons, yet while the Voice of Man speaks with Man, hast thou not there the living fountain out of which all sacredness sprang, and will yet spring? Man, by the nature of him, is definable as "an incarnated Word". Ill stands it with me if I have spoken falsely; thine also it was to hear truly. Farewell.
Whatsoever is cruel in the panic frenzy of Twenty-five million men, whatsoever is great in the simultaneous death-defiance of Twenty-five million men, stand here in abrupt contrast, near by one another. As indeed is usual when a man, how much more when a Nation of men, is hurled suddenly beyond the limits. For Nature, as green as she looks, rests everywhere on dread foundations, were we farther down; and Pan, to whose music the Nymphs dance, has a cry in him that can drive all men distracted.See?