brightest Appearance, she moves gracefully, environed with the grandeur of Earth:  a reality, and yet a magic vision; for, behold, shall not utter Darkness swallow it!  The soft young heart adopts orphans, portions meritorious maids, delights to succour the poor,—­such poor as come picturesquely in her way; and sets the fashion of doing it; for as was said, Benevolence has now begun reigning.  In her Duchess de Polignac, in Princess de Lamballe, she enjoys something almost like friendship; now too, after seven long years, she has a child, and soon even a Dauphin, of her own; can reckon herself, as Queens go, happy in a husband.

Events?  The Grand events are but charitable Feasts of Morals (Fetes des moeurs), with their Prizes and Speeches; Poissarde Processions to the Dauphin’s cradle; above all, Flirtations, their rise, progress, decline and fall.  There are Snow-statues raised by the poor in hard winter to a Queen who has given them fuel.  There are masquerades, theatricals; beautifyings of little Trianon, purchase and repair of St. Cloud; journeyings from the summer Court-Elysium to the winter one.  There are poutings and grudgings from the Sardinian Sisters-in-law (for the Princes too are wedded); little jealousies, which Court-Etiquette can moderate.  Wholly the lightest-hearted frivolous foam of Existence; yet an artfully refined foam; pleasant were it not so costly, like that which mantles on the wine of Champagne!

Monsieur, the King’s elder Brother, has set up for a kind of wit; and leans towards the Philosophe side.  Monseigneur d’Artois pulls the mask from a fair impertinent; fights a duel in consequence,—­almost drawing blood. (Besenval, ii. 282-330.) He has breeches of a kind new in this world;—­a fabulous kind; ‘four tall lackeys,’ says Mercier, as if he had seen it, ’hold him up in the air, that he may fall into the garment without vestige of wrinkle; from which rigorous encasement the same four, in the same way, and with more effort, must deliver him at night.’  (Mercier, Nouveau Paris, iii. 147.) This last is he who now, as a gray time-worn man, sits desolate at Gratz; (A.D. 1834.) having winded up his destiny with the Three Days.  In such sort are poor mortals swept and shovelled to and fro.

Chapter 1.2.II.

Petition in Hieroglyphs.

With the working people, again it is not so well.  Unlucky!  For there are twenty to twenty-five millions of them.  Whom, however, we lump together into a kind of dim compendious unity, monstrous but dim, far off, as the canaille; or, more humanely, as ‘the masses.’  Masses, indeed:  and yet, singular to say, if, with an effort of imagination, thou follow them, over broad France, into their clay hovels, into their garrets and hutches, the masses consist all of units.  Every unit of whom has his own heart and sorrows; stands covered there with his own skin, and if you prick him he will bleed.  O purple Sovereignty, Holiness, Reverence; thou, for