Clubbism.

Where the heart is full, it seeks, for a thousand reasons, in a thousand ways, to impart itself.  How sweet, indispensable, in such cases, is fellowship; soul mystically strengthening soul!  The meditative Germans, some think, have been of opinion that Enthusiasm in the general means simply excessive Congregating—­Schwarmerey, or Swarming.  At any rate, do we not see glimmering half-red embers, if laid together, get into the brightest white glow?

In such a France, gregarious Reunions will needs multiply, intensify; French Life will step out of doors, and, from domestic, become a public Club Life.  Old Clubs, which already germinated, grow and flourish; new every where bud forth.  It is the sure symptom of Social Unrest:  in such way, most infallibly of all, does Social Unrest exhibit itself; find solacement, and also nutriment.  In every French head there hangs now, whether for terror or for hope, some prophetic picture of a New France:  prophecy which brings, nay which almost is, its own fulfilment; and in all ways, consciously and unconsciously, works towards that.

Observe, moreover, how the Aggregative Principle, let it be but deep enough, goes on aggregating, and this even in a geometrical progression:  how when the whole world, in such a plastic time, is forming itself into Clubs, some One Club, the strongest or luckiest, shall, by friendly attracting, by victorious compelling, grow ever stronger, till it become immeasurably strong; and all the others, with their strength, be either lovingly absorbed into it, or hostilely abolished by it!  This if the Club-spirit is universal; if the time is plastic.  Plastic enough is the time, universal the Club-spirit:  such an all absorbing, paramount One Club cannot be wanting.

What a progress, since the first salient-point of the Breton Committee!  It worked long in secret, not languidly; it has come with the National Assembly to Paris; calls itself Club; calls itself in imitation, as is thought, of those generous Price-Stanhope English, French Revolution Club; but soon, with more originality, Club of Friends of the Constitution.  Moreover it has leased, for itself, at a fair rent, the Hall of the Jacobin’s Convent, one of our ‘superfluous edifices;’ and does therefrom now, in these spring months, begin shining out on an admiring Paris.  And so, by degrees, under the shorter popular title of Jacobins’ Club, it shall become memorable to all times and lands.  Glance into the interior:  strongly yet modestly benched and seated; as many as Thirteen Hundred chosen Patriots; Assembly Members not a few.  Barnave, the two Lameths are seen there; occasionally Mirabeau, perpetually Robespierre; also the ferret-visage of Fouquier-Tinville with other attorneys; Anacharsis of Prussian Scythia, and miscellaneous Patriots,—­though all is yet in the most perfectly clean-washed state; decent, nay dignified.  President on platform, President’s bell are not wanting; oratorical Tribune high-raised; nor strangers’ galleries, wherein also sit women.  Has any French Antiquarian Society preserved that written Lease of the Jacobins Convent Hall?  Or was it, unluckier even than Magna Charta, clipt by sacrilegious Tailors?  Universal History is not indifferent to it.