that, like so many mad Spinning-Dervishes, of a
hundred feet in stature; and dance their huge Desert-waltz there!--

Nevertheless in all human movements, were they but a day old, there
is order, or the beginning of order. Consider two things in this
Sahara-waltz of the French Twenty-five millions; or rather one thing,
and one hope of a thing: the Commune (Municipality) of Paris, which is
already here; the National Convention, which shall in few weeks be here.
The Insurrectionary Commune, which improvising itself on the eve of the
Tenth of August, worked this ever-memorable Deliverance by explosion,
must needs rule over it,--till the Convention meet. This Commune, which
they may well call a spontaneous or 'improvised' Commune, is, for the
present, sovereign of France. The Legislative, deriving its authority
from the Old, how can it now have authority when the Old is exploded by
insurrection? As a floating piece of wreck, certain things, persons
and interests may still cleave to it: volunteer defenders, riflemen
or pikemen in green uniform, or red nightcap (of bonnet rouge),
defile before it daily, just on the wing towards Brunswick; with the
brandishing of arms; always with some touch of Leonidas-eloquence, often
with 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 as
a place of proclamation. For which use, indeed, it now chiefly serves.
Vergniaud delivers spirit-stirring orations; but always with a prophetic
sense only, looking towards the coming Convention. "Let our memory
perish," cries Vergniaud, "but let France be free!"--whereupon they
all start to their feet, shouting responsive: "Yes, yes, perisse notre
memoire, pourvu que la France soit libre!" (Hist. Parl. xvii. 467.)
Disfrocked Chabot abjures Heaven that at least we may "have done with
Kings;" and fast as powder under spark, we all blaze up once more, and
with waved hats shout and swear: "Yes, nous le jurons; plus de roi!"
(Ibid. xvii. 437.) All which, as a method of proclamation, is very
convenient.

For the rest, that our busy Brissots, rigorous Rolands, men who once had
authority and now have less and less; men who love law, and will have
even an Explosion explode itself, as far as possible, according to rule,
do find this state o