sel of boiled prunes, and lentils
swimming in a clear sauce: at these frugal tables, the cook's gridiron
hissing near by, and the pot simmering on a fire between two stones, I
have seen them ranged by the hundred; consuming, without bread, their
scant messes, far too moderate for the keenness of their appetite, and
the extent of their stomach.' (Nouveau Paris, iv. 118.) Seine water,
rushing plenteous by, will supply the deficiency.

O man of Toil, thy struggling and thy daring, these six long years of
insurrection and tribulation, thou hast profited nothing by it, then?
Thou consumest thy herring and water, in the blessed gold-red evening.
O why was the Earth so beautiful, becrimsoned with dawn and twilight,
if man's dealings with man were to make it a vale of scarcity, of
tears, not even soft tears? Destroying of Bastilles, discomfiting of
Brunswicks, fronting of Principalities and Powers, of Earth and Tophet,
all that thou hast dared and endured,--it was for a Republic of the
Cabarus Saloons? Patience; thou must have patience: the end is not yet.

Chapter 3.7.VII.

The Whiff of Grapeshot.

In fact, what can be more natural, one may say inevitable, as a
Post-Sansculottic transitionary state, than even this? Confused wreck
of a Republic of the Poverties, which ended in Reign of Terror, is
arranging itself into such composure as it can. Evangel of Jean-Jacques,
and most other Evangels, becoming incredible, what is there for it but
return to the old Evangel of Mammon? Contrat-Social is true or untrue,
Brotherhood is Brotherhood or Death; but money always will buy money's
worth: in the wreck of human dubitations, this remains indubitable, that
Pleasure is pleasant. Aristocracy of Feudal Parchment has passed away
with a mighty rushing; and now, by a natural course, we arrive at
Aristocracy of the Moneybag. It is the course through which all European
Societies are at this hour travelling. Apparently a still baser sort of
Aristocracy? An infinitely baser; the basest yet known!

In which however there is this advantage, that, like Anarchy itself,
it cannot continue. Hast thou considered how Thought is stronger than
Artillery-parks, and (were it fifty years after death and martyrdom,
or were it two thousand years) writes and unwrites Acts of Parliament,
removes mountains; models the World like soft clay? Also how the
beginning of all Thought, worth the name, is Love; and the wise head
never yet was, without first the g