, accordingly, on the day they call Twelfth of Germinal (which
is also called First of April, not a lucky day), how lively are these
streets of Paris once more! Floods of hungry women, of squalid hungry
men; ejaculating: "Bread, Bread and the Constitution of Ninety-three!"
Paris has risen, once again, like the Ocean-tide; is flowing towards
the Tuileries, for Bread and a Constitution. Tuileries Sentries do their
best; but it serves not: the Ocean-tide sweeps them away; inundates the
Convention Hall itself; howling, "Bread, and the Constitution!"

Unhappy Senators, unhappy People, there is yet, after all toils and
broils, no Bread, no Constitution. "Du pain, pas tant de longs discours,
Bread, not bursts of Parliamentary eloquence!" so wailed the Menads
of Maillard, five years ago and more; so wail ye to this hour. The
Convention, with unalterable countenance, with what thought one knows
not, keeps its seat in this waste howling chaos; rings its stormbell
from the Pavilion of Unity. Section Lepelletier, old Filles
Saint-Thomas, who are of the money-changing species; these and Gilt
Youthhood fly to the rescue; sweep chaos forth again, with levelled
bayonets. Paris is declared 'in a state of siege.' Pichegru, Conqueror
of Holland, who happens to be here, is named Commandant, till the
disturbance end. He, in one day, so to speak, ends it. He accomplishes
the transfer of Billaud, Collot and Company; dissipating all opposition
'by two cannon-shots,' blank cannon-shots, and the terror of his name;
and thereupon announcing, with a Laconicism which should be imitated,
"Representatives, your decrees are executed," (Moniteur, Seance du 13
Germinal (2d April) 1795.) lays down his Commandantship.

This Revolt of Germinal, therefore, has passed, like a vain cry. The
Prisoners rest safe in Ham, waiting for ships; some nine hundred 'chief
Terrorists of Paris' are disarmed. Sansculottism, swept forth with
bayonets, has vanished, with its misery, to the bottom of Saint-Antoine
and Saint-Marceau.--Time was when Usher Maillard with Menads could alter
the course of Legislation; but that time is not. Legislation seems to
have got bayonets; Section Lepelletier takes its firelock, not for us!
We retire to our dark dens; our cry of hunger is called a Plot of Pitt;
the Saloons glitter, the flesh-coloured Drawers gyrate as before. It was
for "The Cabarus" then, and her Muscadins and Money-changers, that
we fought? It was for Balls in flesh-coloure