slative had much ado to save one of its own Members, or
Ex-Members, Deputy Journeau, who chanced to be lying in arrest for mere
Parliamentary delinquencies, in these Prisons. As for poor old Dusaulx
and 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 2nd
September, 1792.)

Roland writes indignant messages, in the name of Order, Humanity, and
the Law; but there is no Force at his disposal. Santerre's National
Force seems lazy to rise; though he made requisitions, he says,--which
always 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 the
law:" the killers give up, while he is there; when his back is turned,
recommence. Manuel too in scarf we, with Maton's eyes, transiently saw
haranguing, in the Court called of Nurses, Cour des Nourrices. On the
other hand, cruel Billaud, likewise in scarf, 'with that small puce coat
and black wig we are used to on him,' (Mehee, Fils ut supra, in Hist.
Parl. xviii. p. 189.) audibly delivers, 'standing among corpses,' at
the Abbaye, a short but ever-memorable harangue, reported in various
phraseology, but always to this purpose: "Brave Citizens, you are
extirpating the Enemies of Liberty; you are at your duty. A grateful
Commune, and Country, would wish to recompense you adequately; but
cannot, for you know its want of funds. Whoever shall have worked
(travaille) in a Prison shall receive a draft of one louis, payable
by our cashier. Continue your work." (Montgaillard, iii. 191.)--The
Constituted Authorities are of yesterday; all pulling different ways:
there is properly not Constituted Authority, but every man is his own
King; and all are kinglets, belligerent, allied, or armed-neutral,
without king over them.

'O everlasting infamy,' exclaims Montgaillard, 'that Paris stood looking
on in stupor for four days, and did not interfere!' Very desirable
indeed that Paris had interfered; yet not unnatural that it stood even
so, looking on in stupor. Paris is in death-panic, the enemy and gibbets
at its door: whosoever in Paris has the heart to front death finds it
more pressing to do it fighting the Prussians, than fighting the killers
of Aristocrats. Indignant abhorrence, as in Roland, may be here; gloomy
sanction, premeditation or not, as in Marat and Commit