elf again?

To the length of Seven Hundred and Forty-nine Parties, however, no
Nation was ever yet seen to go. Nor indeed much beyond the length of Two
Parties; two at a time;--so invincible is man's tendency to unite, with
all the invincible divisiveness he has! Two Parties, we say, are the
usual number at one time: let these two fight it out, all minor shades
of party rallying under the shade likest them; when the one has fought
down the other, then it, in its turn, may divide, self-destructive;
and so the process continue, as far as needful. This is the way of
Revolutions, which spring up as the French one has done; when the
so-called Bonds of Society snap asunder; and all Laws that are not Laws
of Nature become naught and Formulas merely.

But quitting these somewhat abstract considerations, let History note
this concrete reality which the streets of Paris exhibit, on Monday the
25th of February 1793. Long before daylight that morning, these streets
are noisy and angry. Petitioning enough there has been; a Convention
often solicited. It was but yesterday there came a Deputation of
Washerwomen with Petition; complaining that not so much as soap could be
had; to say nothing of bread, and condiments of bread. The cry of women,
round the Salle de Manege, was heard plaintive: "Du pain et du savon,
Bread and Soap." (Moniteur &c. Hist. Parl. xxiv. 332-348.)

And now from six o'clock, this Monday morning, one perceives the Baker's
Queues unusually expanded, angrily agitating themselves. Not the Baker
alone, but two Section Commissioners to help him, manage with difficulty
the daily distribution of loaves. Soft-spoken assiduous, in the early
candle-light, are Baker and Commissioners: and yet the pale chill
February sunrise discloses an unpromising scene. Indignant Female
Patriots, partly supplied with bread, rush now to the shops, declaring
that they will have groceries. Groceries enough: sugar-barrels rolled
forth into the street, Patriot Citoyennes weighing it out at a just
rate of eleven-pence a pound; likewise coffee-chests, soap-chests,
nay cinnamon and cloves-chests, with aquavitae and other forms of
alcohol,--at a just rate, which some do not pay; the pale-faced Grocer
silently wringing his hands! What help? The distributive Citoyennes are
of violent speech and gesture, their long Eumenides' hair hanging out of
curl; nay in their girdles pistols are seen sticking: some, it is even
said, have beards,--male Patriots i