on the other side, what a singular thing Customs (in Latin,
Mores) are; and how fitly the Virtue, Vir-tus, Manhood or Worth, that is
in a man, is called his Morality, or Customariness. Fell Slaughter,
one the most authentic products of the Pit you would say, once give
it Customs, becomes War, with Laws of War; and is Customary and Moral
enough; and red individuals carry the tools of it girt round their
haunches, not without an air of pride,--which do thou nowise blame.
While, see! so long as it is but dressed in hodden or russet; and
Revolution, less frequent than War, has not yet got its Laws of
Revolution, but the hodden or russet individuals are Uncustomary--O
shrieking beloved brother blockheads of Mankind, let us close those wide
mouths of ours; let us cease shrieking, and begin considering!

Chapter 3.1.VII.

September in Argonne.

Plain, at any rate, is one thing: that the fear, whatever of fear those
Aristocrat enemies might need, has been brought about. The matter is
getting serious then! Sansculottism too has become a Fact, and seems
minded to assert itself as such? This huge mooncalf of Sansculottism,
staggering about, as young calves do, is not mockable only, and soft
like another calf; but terrible too, if you prick it; and, through its
hideous nostrils, blows fire!--Aristocrats, with pale panic in their
hearts, fly towards covert; and a light rises to them over several
things; or rather a confused transition towards light, whereby for the
moment darkness is only darker than ever. But, What will become of
this France? Here is a question! France is dancing its desert-waltz, as
Sahara does when the winds waken; in whirlblasts twenty-five millions
in number; waltzing towards Townhalls, Aristocrat Prisons, and Election
Committee-rooms; towards Brunswick and the Frontiers;--towards a
New Chapter of Universal History; if indeed it be not the Finis, and
winding-up of that!

In Election Committee-rooms there is now no dubiety; but the work goes
bravely along. The Convention is getting chosen,--really in a decisive
spirit; in the Townhall we already date First year of the Republic.
Some Two hundred of our best Legislators may be re-elected, the Mountain
bodily: Robespierre, with Mayor Petion, Buzot, Curate Gregoire, Rabaut,
some three score Old-Constituents; though we once had only 'thirty
voices.' All these; and along with them, friends long known to
Revolutionary fame: Camille Desmoulins, though he stutte