se to live upon. 'Mention honorable,' shall
we give him? Or 'reference to Committee of Finances?' Hardly is this
got decided, when goose Gobel, Constitutional Bishop of Paris, with his
Chapter, with Municipal and Departmental escort in red nightcaps,
makes his appearance, to do as Parens has done. Goose Gobel will
now acknowledge 'no Religion but Liberty;' therefore he doffs his
Priest-gear, and receives the Fraternal embrace. To the joy of
Departmental Momoro, of Municipal Chaumettes and Heberts, of Vincent
and the Revolutionary Army! Chaumette asks, Ought there not, in these
circumstances, to be among our intercalary Days Sans-breeches, a Feast
of Reason? (Moniteur, Seance du 17 Brumaire (7th November), 1793.)
Proper surely! Let Atheist Marechal, Lalande, and little Atheist Naigeon
rejoice; let Clootz, Speaker of Mankind, present to the Convention his
Evidences of the Mahometan Religion, 'a work evincing the nullity of all
Religions,'--with thanks. There shall be Universal Republic now, thinks
Clootz; and 'one God only, Le Peuple.'

The French Nation is of gregarious imitative nature; it needed but a
fugle-motion in this matter; and goose Gobel, driven by Municipality and
force of circumstances, has given one. What Cure will be behind him
of Boissise; what Bishop behind him of Paris? Bishop Gregoire, indeed,
courageously declines; to the sound of "We force no one; let Gregoire
consult his conscience;" but Protestant and Romish by the hundred
volunteer and assent. From far and near, all through November into
December, till the work is accomplished, come Letters of renegation,
come Curates who are 'learning to be Carpenters,' Curates with their
new-wedded Nuns: has not the Day of Reason dawned, very swiftly,
and become noon? From sequestered Townships comes Addresses, stating
plainly, though in Patois dialect, That 'they will have no more to
do with the black animal called Curay, animal noir, appelle Curay.'
(Analyse du Moniteur (Paris, 1801), ii. 280.)

Above all things there come Patriotic Gifts, of Church-furniture. The
remnant of bells, except for tocsin, descend from their belfries, into
the National meltingpot, to make cannon. Censers and all sacred vessels
are beaten broad; of silver, they are fit for the poverty-stricken Mint;
of pewter, let them become bullets to shoot the 'enemies of du genre
humain.' Dalmatics of plush make breeches for him who has none;
linen stoles will clip into shirts for the Defenders o