ength
wriggled out of sight; vanishing in the Tuileries Palace--towards its
doom, of slow torture, peine forte et dure.

Populace, it is true, seizes the three rope-bound yellow Couriers; will
at least massacre them. But our august Assembly, which is sitting at
this great moment, sends out Deputation of rescue; and the whole is
got huddled up. Barnave, 'all dusty,' is already there, in the National
Hall; making brief discreet address and report. As indeed, through the
whole journey, this Barnave has been most discreet, sympathetic; and has
gained the Queen's trust, whose noble instinct teaches her always who
is to be trusted. Very different from heavy Petion; who, if Campan speak
truth, ate his luncheon, comfortably filled his wine-glass, in the Royal
Berline; flung out his chicken-bones past the nose of Royalty itself;
and, on the King's saying "France cannot be a Republic," answered "No,
it is not ripe yet." Barnave is henceforth a Queen's adviser, if advice
could profit: and her Majesty astonishes Dame Campan by signifying
almost a regard for Barnave: and that, in a day of retribution and Royal
triumph, Barnave shall not be executed. (Campan, ii. c. 18.)

On Monday night Royalty went; on Saturday evening it returns: so
much, within one short week, has Royalty accomplished for itself. The
Pickleherring Tragedy has vanished in the Tuileries Palace, towards
'pain strong and hard.' Watched, fettered, and humbled, as Royalty never
was. Watched even in its sleeping-apartments and inmost recesses: for it
has to sleep with door set ajar, blue National Argus watching, his eye
fixed on the Queen's curtains; nay, on one occasion, as the Queen cannot
sleep, he offers to sit by her pillow, and converse a little! (Ibid. ii.
149.)

Chapter 2.4.IX.

Sharp Shot.

In regard to all which, this most pressing question arises: What is
to be done with it? "Depose it!" resolutely answer Robespierre and the
thoroughgoing few. For truly, with a King who runs away, and needs to be
watched in his very bedroom that he may stay and govern you, what other
reasonable thing can be done? Had Philippe d'Orleans not been a caput
mortuum! But of him, known as one defunct, no man now dreams. "Depose it
not; say that it is inviolable, that it was spirited away, was enleve;
at any cost of sophistry and solecism, reestablish it!" so answer with
loud vehemence all manner of Constitutional Royalists; as all your Pure
Royalists do naturally likewise,