n-gate; carnivorous
Rabble now howling round. Palpable, and yet incredible; like a madman's
dream! Camille struggles and writhes; his shoulders shuffle the loose
coat off them, which hangs knotted, the hands tied: "Calm my friend,"
said Danton; "heed not that vile canaille (laissez la cette vile
canaille)." At the foot of the Scaffold, Danton was heard to ejaculate:
"O my Wife, my well-beloved, I shall never see thee more
then!"--but, interrupting himself: "Danton, no weakness!" He said to
Herault-Sechelles stepping forward to embrace him: "Our heads will
meet there," in the Headsman's sack. His last words were to Samson the
Headsman himself: "Thou wilt shew my head to the people; it is worth
shewing."

So passes, like a gigantic mass, of valour, ostentation, fury, affection
and wild revolutionary manhood, this Danton, to his unknown home. He was
of Arcis-sur-Aube; born of 'good farmer-people' there. He had many
sins; but one worst sin he had not, that of Cant. No hollow Formalist,
deceptive and self-deceptive, ghastly to the natural sense, was this;
but a very Man: with all his dross he was a Man; fiery-real, from the
great fire-bosom of Nature herself. He saved France from Brunswick; he
walked straight his own wild road, whither it led him. He may live for
some generations in the memory of men.

Chapter 3.6.III.

The Tumbrils.

Next week, it is still but the 10th of April, there comes a new
Nineteen; Chaumette, Gobel, Hebert's Widow, the Widow of Camille: these
also roll their fated journey; black Death devours them. Mean Hebert's
Widow was weeping, Camille's Widow tried to speak comfort to her. O
ye kind Heavens, azure, beautiful, eternal behind your tempests and
Time-clouds, is there not pity for all! Gobel, it seems, was repentant;
he begged absolution of a Priest; did as a Gobel best could. For
Anaxagoras Chaumette, the sleek head now stript of its bonnet rouge,
what hope is there? Unless Death were 'an eternal sleep?' Wretched
Anaxagoras, God shall judge thee, not I.

Hebert, therefore, is gone, and the Hebertists; they that robbed
Churches, and adored blue Reason in red nightcap. Great Danton, and the
Dantonists; they also are gone. Down to the catacombs; they are become
silent men! Let no Paris Municipality, no Sect or Party of this hue or
that, resist the will of Robespierre and Salut. Mayor Pache, not prompt
enough in denouncing these Pitts Plots, may congratulate about them
now. Never so heartily;