Brotherhood, with their wives in best ribands, with their
little ones romping round, the Citoyens, in frugal Love-feast, sit
there. Night in her wide empire sees nothing similar. O my brothers, why
is the reign of Brotherhood not come! It is come, it shall come, say the
Citoyens frugally hobnobbing.--Ah me! these everlasting stars, do they
not look down 'like glistening eyes, bright with immortal pity, over the
lot of man!'--

One lamentable thing, however, is, that individuals will attempt
assassination--of Representatives of the People. Representative Collot,
Member even of Salut, returning home, 'about one in the morning,'
probably touched with liquor, as he is apt to be, meets on the stairs,
the cry "Scelerat!" and also the snap of a pistol: which latter
flashes in the pan; disclosing to him, momentarily, a pair of truculent
saucer-eyes, swart grim-clenched countenance; recognisable as that
of our little fellow-lodger, Citoyen Amiral, formerly 'a clerk in the
Lotteries!; Collot shouts Murder, with lungs fit to awaken all the Rue
Favart; Amiral snaps a second time; a second time flashes in the pan;
then darts up into his apartment; and, after there firing, still with
inadequate effect, one musket at himself and another at his captor,
is clutched and locked in Prison. (Riouffe, p. 73; Deux Amis, xii.
298-302.) An indignant little man this Amiral, of Southern temper and
complexion, of 'considerable muscular force.' He denies not that he
meant to "purge France of a tyrant;" nay avows that he had an eye to the
Incorruptible himself, but took Collot as more convenient!

Rumour enough hereupon; heaven-high congratulation of Collot, fraternal
embracing, at the Jacobins, and elsewhere. And yet, it would seem the
assassin-mood proves catching. Two days more, it is still but the 23d
of May, and towards nine in the evening, Cecile Renault, Paper-dealer's
daughter, a young woman of soft blooming look, presents herself at the
Cabinet-maker's in the Rue Saint-Honore; desires to see Robespierre.
Robespierre cannot be seen: she grumbles irreverently. They lay hold of
her. She has left a basket in a shop hard by: in the basket are female
change of raiment and two knives! Poor Cecile, examined by Committee,
declares she "wanted to see what a tyrant was like:" the change of
raiment was "for my own use in the place I am surely going to."--"What
place?"--"Prison; and then the Guillotine," answered she.--Such things
come of Charlotte Co