brewhouse. Feraud's Assassin flings himself from a high roof: and all is
lost. (Toulongeon, v. 297; Moniteur, Nos. 244, 5, 6.)

Discerning which things, old Ruhl shot a pistol through his old white
head; dashed his life in pieces, as he had done the Sacred Phial
of Rheims. Romme, Goujon and the others stand ranked before a
swiftly-appointed, swift Military Tribunal. Hearing the sentence, Goujon
drew a knife, struck it into his breast, passed it to his neighbour
Romme; and fell dead. Romme did the like; and another all but did it;
Roman-death rushing on there, as in electric-chain, before your Bailiffs
could intervene! The Guillotine had the rest.

They were the Ultimi Romanorum. Billaud, Collot and Company are now
ordered to be tried for life; but are found to be already off, shipped
for Sinamarri, and the hot mud of Surinam. There let Billaud surround
himself with flocks of tame parrots; Collot take the yellow fever, and
drinking a whole bottle of brandy, burn up his entrails. (Dictionnaire
des Hommes Marquans, paras Billaud, Collot.) Sansculottism spraws no
more. The dormant lion has become a dead one; and now, as we see, any
hoof may smite him.

Chapter 3.7.VI.

Grilled Herrings.

So dies Sansculottism, the body of Sansculottism, or is changed. Its
ragged Pythian Carmagnole-dance has transformed itself into a Pyrrhic,
into a dance of Cabarus Balls. Sansculottism is dead; extinguished
by new isms of that kind, which were its own natural progeny; and is
buried, we may say, with such deafening jubilation and disharmony of
funeral-knell on their part, that only after some half century or so
does one begin to learn clearly why it ever was alive.

And yet a meaning lay in it: Sansculottism verily was alive, a New-Birth
of TIME; nay it still lives, and is not dead, but changed. The soul of
it still lives; still works far and wide, through one bodily shape
into another less amorphous, as is the way of cunning Time with his
New-Births:--till, in some perfected shape, it embrace the whole
circuit of the world! For the wise man may now everywhere discern that
he must found on his manhood, not on the garnitures of his manhood.
He who, in these Epochs of our Europe, founds on garnitures, formulas,
culottisms of what sort soever, is founding on old cloth and sheep-skin,
and cannot endure. But as for the body of Sansculottism, that is dead
and buried,--and, one hopes, need not reappear, in primary amorphous
shape, for an