gony, that their smocks might not be stript from them. And young
children were thrown in, their mothers vainly pleading: "Wolflings,"
answered the Company of Marat, "who would grow to be wolves."

By degrees, daylight itself witnesses Noyades: women and men are tied
together, feet and feet, hands and hands: and flung in: this they call
Mariage Republicain, Republican Marriage. Cruel is the panther of the
woods, the she-bear bereaved of her whelps: but there is in man a hatred
crueller than that. Dumb, out of suffering now, as pale swoln corpses,
the victims tumble confusedly seaward along the Loire stream; the tide
rolling them back: clouds of ravens darken the River; wolves prowl on
the shoal-places: Carrier writes, 'Quel torrent revolutionnaire, What
a torrent of Revolution!' For the man is rabid; and the Time is rabid.
These are the Noyades of Carrier; twenty-five by the tale, for what
is done in darkness comes to be investigated in sunlight: (Proces de
Carrier, 4 tomes, Paris, 1795.) not to be forgotten for centuries,--We
will turn to another aspect of the Consummation of Sansculottism;
leaving this as the blackest.

But indeed men are all rabid; as the Time is. Representative Lebon,
at Arras, dashes his sword into the blood flowing from the Guillotine;
exclaims, "How I like it!" Mothers, they say, by his order, have to
stand by while the Guillotine devours their children: a band of music is
stationed near; and, at the fall of every head, strikes up its ca-ira.
(Les Horreures des Prisons d'Arras, Paris, 1823.) In the Burgh of
Bedouin, in the Orange region, the Liberty-tree has been cut down over
night. Representative Maignet, at Orange, hears of it; burns Bedouin
Burgh to the last dog-hutch; guillotines the inhabitants, or drives
them into the caves and hills. (Montgaillard, iv. 200.) Republic One and
Indivisible! She is the newest Birth of Nature's waste inorganic Deep,
which men name Orcus, Chaos, primeval Night; and knows one law, that of
self-preservation. Tigresse Nationale: meddle not with a whisker of her!
Swift-crushing is her stroke; look what a paw she spreads;--pity has not
entered her heart.

Prudhomme, the dull-blustering Printer and Able Editor, as yet a Jacobin
Editor, will become a renegade one, and publish large volumes on these
matters, Crimes of the Revolution; adding innumerable lies withal, as if
the truth were not sufficient. We, for our part, find it more edifying
to know, one good time, tha