here runs
'a subterranean passage' all the way from the Tuileries hither. Who
knows? Paris, mined with quarries and catacombs, does hang wondrous over
the abyss; Paris was once to be blown up,--though the powder, when
we went to look, had got withdrawn. A Tuileries, sold to Austria and
Coblentz, should have no subterranean passage. Out of which might not
Coblentz or Austria issue, some morning; and, with cannon of long range,
'foudroyer,' bethunder a patriotic Saint-Antoine into smoulder and ruin!

So meditates the benighted soul of Saint-Antoine, as it sees the aproned
workmen, in early spring, busy on these towers. An official-speaking
Municipality, a Sieur Motier with his legions of mouchards, deserve no
trust at all. Were Patriot Santerre, indeed, Commander! But the sonorous
Brewer commands only our own Battalion: of such secrets he can explain
nothing, knows nothing, perhaps suspects much. And so the work goes
on; and afflicted benighted Saint-Antoine hears rattle of hammers, sees
stones suspended in air. (Montgaillard, ii. 285.)

Saint-Antoine prostrated the first great Bastille: will it falter over
this comparative insignificance of a Bastille? Friends, what if we took
pikes, firelocks, sledgehammers; and helped ourselves!--Speedier is no
remedy; nor so certain. On the 28th day of February, Saint-Antoine turns
out, as it has now often done; and, apparently with little superfluous
tumult, moves eastward to that eye-sorrow of Vincennes. With grave voice
of authority, no need of bullying and shouting, Saint-Antoine signifies
to parties concerned there that its purpose is, To have this
suspicious Stronghold razed level with the general soil of the country.
Remonstrance may be proffered, with zeal: but it avails not. The outer
gate goes up, drawbridges tumble; iron window-stanchions, smitten
out with sledgehammers, become iron-crowbars: it rains furniture,
stone-masses, slates: with chaotic clatter and rattle, Demolition
clatters down. And now hasty expresses rush through the agitated
streets, to warn Lafayette, and the Municipal and Departmental
Authorities; Rumour warns a National Assembly, a Royal Tuileries, and
all men who care to hear it: That Saint-Antoine is up; that Vincennes,
and probably the last remaining Institution of the Country, is coming
down. (Deux Amis, vi. 11-15; Newspapers (in Hist. Parl. ix. 111-17).)

Quick, then! Let Lafayette roll his drums and fly eastward; for to all
Constitutional Patriots