Poor Louis, meaning the best, with little insight and even less determination of his own, has to follow, in that dim wayfaring of his, such signal as may be given him; by backstairs Royalism, by official or backstairs Constitutionalism, whichever for the month may have convinced the royal mind.  If flight to Bouille, and (horrible to think!) a drawing of the civil sword do hang as theory, portentous in the background, much nearer is this fact of these Twelve Hundred Kings, who sit in the Salle de Manege.  Kings uncontrollable by him, not yet irreverent to him.  Could kind management of these but prosper, how much better were it than armed Emigrants, Turin-intrigues, and the help of Austria!  Nay, are the two hopes inconsistent?  Rides in the suburbs, we have found, cost little; yet they always brought vivats. (See Bertrand-Moleville, i. 241, &c.) Still cheaper is a soft word; such as has many times turned away wrath.  In these rapid days, while France is all getting divided into Departments, Clergy about to be remodelled, Popular Societies rising, and Feudalism and so much ever is ready to be hurled into the melting-pot,—­might one not try?

On the 4th of February, accordingly, M. le President reads to his National Assembly a short autograph, announcing that his Majesty will step over, quite in an unceremonious way, probably about noon.  Think, therefore, Messieurs, what it may mean; especially, how ye will get the Hall decorated a little.  The Secretaries’ Bureau can be shifted down from the platform; on the President’s chair be slipped this cover of velvet, ’of a violet colour sprigged with gold fleur-de-lys;’—­for indeed M. le President has had previous notice underhand, and taken counsel with Doctor Guillotin.  Then some fraction of ‘velvet carpet,’ of like texture and colour, cannot that be spread in front of the chair, where the Secretaries usually sit?  So has judicious Guillotin advised:  and the effect is found satisfactory.  Moreover, as it is probable that his Majesty, in spite of the fleur-de-lys-velvet, will stand and not sit at all, the President himself, in the interim, presides standing.  And so, while some honourable Member is discussing, say, the division of a Department, Ushers announce:  “His Majesty!” In person, with small suite, enter Majesty:  the honourable Member stops short; the Assembly starts to its feet; the Twelve Hundred Kings ‘almost all,’ and the Galleries no less, do welcome the Restorer of French Liberty with loyal shouts.  His Majesty’s Speech, in diluted conventional phraseology, expresses this mainly:  That he, most of all Frenchmen, rejoices to see France getting regenerated; is sure, at the same time, that they will deal gently with her in the process, and not regenerate her roughly.  Such was his Majesty’s Speech:  the feat he performed was coming to speak it, and going back again.