ality 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 in
subterranean dungeons there, bemoaned by the hoarse rushing of the
Rhone; cut out from help.

So lie they; waiting inquest and perquisition. Alas! with a Jourdan
Headsman for Generalissimo, with his copper-face grown black, and armed
Brigand Patriots chanting their Nenia, the inquest is likely to be
brief. On the next day and the next, let Municipality consent or not, a
Brigand Court-Martial establishes itself in the subterranean stories of
the Castle of Avignon; Brigand Executioners, with naked sabre, waiting
at the door, for a Brigand verdict. Short judgment, no appeal! There is
Brigand wrath and vengeance; not unrefreshed by brandy. Close by is the
Dungeon of the Glaciere, or Ice-Tower: there may be deeds done--? For
which language has no name!--Darkness and the shadow of horrid cruelty
envelopes these Castle Dungeons, that Glaciere Tower: clear only that
many 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 behold
Friend Dampmartin, and subalterns beneath him, and General Choisi above
him, with Infantry and Cavalry, and proper cannon-carriages rattling in
front, with spread banners, to the sound of fife and drum, wend, in a
deliberate formidable manner, towards that sheer Castle Rock, towards
those broad Gates of Avignon; three new National-Assembly Commissioners
following at safe distance in the rear. (Dampmartin, i. 251-94.)
Avignon, summoned in the name of Assembly and Law, flings its Gates wide
open; Choisi with the rest, Dampmartin and the Bons Enfans, 'Good Boys
of Baufremont,' so they name these brave Constitutional Dragoons, known
to them of old,--do enter, amid shouts and scattered flowers. To the joy
of all honest persons; to the terror only of Jourdan Headsman and the
Brigands. Nay next we behold carbuncled swollen Jourdan himself shew
copper-face, with sabre and four pistols; affecting to talk high:
engaging, meanwhile, to surrender the Castle that instant. So the Choisi
Grenadiers enter with him there. They start and stop, passing that
Glaciere, snuffing its horrible breath; with wild yell, with cries of
"Cut