: but the hardest task falls evidently on Mayor Petion and the
Municipals, at once Patriots and Guardians of the public Tranquillity.
Hushing the matter down with the one hand; tickling it up with
the other! Mayor Petion and Municipality may lean this way;
Department-Directory with Procureur-Syndic Roederer having a Feuillant
tendency, may lean that. On the whole, each man must act according to
his 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, will
dissipate itself, being run athwart by so many complexities; and coming
to 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 the
Suburb-Antoine. Suburb Saint-Marceau too, in the uttermost South-East,
and all that remote Oriental region, Pikemen and Pikewomen, National
Guards, and the unarmed curious are gathering,--with the peaceablest
intentions in the world. A tricolor Municipal arrives; speaks. Tush,
it is all peaceable, we tell thee, in the way of Law: are not Petitions
allowable, and the Patriotism of Mais? The tricolor Municipal returns
without effect: your Sansculottic rills continue flowing, combining into
brooks: towards noontide, led by tall Santerre in blue uniform, by tall
Saint-Huruge in white hat, it moves Westward, a respectable river, or
complication of still-swelling rivers.

What Processions have we not seen: Corpus-Christi and Legendre waiting
in Gig; Bones of Voltaire with bullock-chariots, and goadsmen in Roman
Costume; 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. Tricolor
ribands streaming aloft from pike-heads; ironshod batons; and emblems
not a few; among which, see specially these two, of the tragic and
the untragic sort: a Bull's Heart transfixed with iron, bearing this
epigraph, 'Coeur d'Aristocrate, Aristocrat's Heart;' and, more striking
still, properly the standard of the host, a pair of old Black Breeches
(silk, they say), extended on cross-staff high overhead, with these
memorable words: 'Tremblez tyrans, voila les Sansculottes, Tremble
tyrants, here are the Sans-indispensables!' Also, the Procession trails
two cannons.

Scarfed tricolor Municipals do now again meet it, in the Q