Not from over France only are the unrestful flocking towards Paris; but from all sides of Europe.  Where the carcase is, thither will the eagles gather.  Think how many a Spanish Guzman, Martinico Fournier named ‘Fournier l’Americain,’ Engineer Miranda from the very Andes, were flocking or had flocked!  Walloon Pereyra might boast of the strangest parentage:  him, they say, Prince Kaunitz the Diplomatist heedlessly dropped;’ like ostrich-egg, to be hatched of Chance—­into an ostrich-eater!  Jewish or German Freys do business in the great Cesspool of Agio; which Cesspool this Assignat-fiat has quickened, into a Mother of dead dogs.  Swiss Claviere could found no Socinian Genevese Colony in Ireland; but he paused, years ago, prophetic before the Minister’s Hotel at Paris; and said, it was borne on his mind that he one day was to be Minister, and laughed. (Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 399.) Swiss Pachc, on the other hand, sits sleekheaded, frugal; the wonder of his own alley, and even of neighbouring ones, for humility of mind, and a thought deeper than most men’s:  sit there, Tartuffe, till wanted!  Ye Italian Dufournys, Flemish Prolys, flit hither all ye bipeds of prey!  Come whosesoever head is hot; thou of mind ungoverned, be it chaos as of undevelopment or chaos as of ruin; the man who cannot get known, the man who is too well known; if thou have any vendible faculty, nay if thou have but edacity and loquacity, come!  They come; with hot unutterabilities in their heart; as Pilgrims towards a miraculous shrine.  Nay how many come as vacant Strollers, aimless, of whom Europe is full merely towards something!  For benighted fowls, when you beat their bushes, rush towards any light.  Thus Frederick Baron Trenck too is here; mazed, purblind, from the cells of Magdeburg; Minotauric cells, and his Ariadne lost!  Singular to say, Trenck, in these years, sells wine; not indeed in bottle, but in wood.

Nor is our England without her missionaries.  She has her live-saving Needham; to whom was solemnly presented a ’civic sword,’—­long since rusted into nothingness.  Her Paine:  rebellious Staymaker; unkempt; who feels that he, a single Needleman, did by his ‘Common Sense’ Pamphlet, free America;—­that he can and will free all this World; perhaps even the other.  Price-Stanhope Constitutional Association sends over to congratulate; (Moniteur, 10 Novembre, 7 Decembre, 1789.) welcomed by National Assembly, though they are but a London Club; whom Burke and Toryism eye askance.

On thee too, for country’s sake, O Chevalier John Paul, be a word spent, or misspent!  In faded naval uniform, Paul Jones lingers visible here; like a wine-skin from which the wine is all drawn.  Like the ghost of himself!  Low is his once loud bruit; scarcely audible, save, with extreme tedium in ministerial ante-chambers; in this or the other charitable dining-room, mindful of the past.  What changes; culminatings and declinings!  Not now, poor Paul, thou lookest wistful over the Solway brine,