with your new and old, and then with your old, older and oldest, there were not contrasts and discrepancies enough;—­the general clash whereof men now see and hear, and in the singular whirlpool, all contrasts gone together to the bottom!  Gone to the bottom or going; with uproar, without return; going every where save in the Military section of things; and there, it may be asked, can they hope to continue always at the top?  Apparently, not.

It is true, in a time of external Peace, when there is no fighting but only drilling, this question, How you rise from the ranks, may seem theoretical rather.  But in reference to the Rights of Man it is continually practical.  The soldier has sworn to be faithful not to the King only, but to the Law and the Nation.  Do our commanders love the Revolution? ask all soldiers.  Unhappily no, they hate it, and love the Counter-Revolution.  Young epauletted men, with quality-blood in them, poisoned with quality-pride, do sniff openly, with indignation struggling to become contempt, at our Rights of Man, as at some newfangled cobweb, which shall be brushed down again.  Old officers, more cautious, keep silent, with closed uncurled lips; but one guesses what is passing within.  Nay who knows, how, under the plausiblest word of command, might lie Counter-Revolution itself, sale to Exiled Princes and the Austrian Kaiser:  treacherous Aristocrats hoodwinking the small insight of us common men?—­In such manner works that general raw-material of grievance; disastrous; instead of trust and reverence, breeding hate, endless suspicion, the impossibility of commanding and obeying.  And now when this second more tangible grievance has articulated itself universally in the mind of the common man:  Peculation of his Pay!  Peculation of the despicablest sort does exist, and has long existed; but, unless the new-declared Rights of Man, and all rights whatsoever, be a cobweb, it shall no longer exist.

The French Military System seems dying a sorrowful suicidal death.  Nay more, citizen, as is natural, ranks himself against citizen in this cause.  The soldier finds audience, of numbers and sympathy unlimited, among the Patriot lower-classes.  Nor are the higher wanting to the officer.  The officer still dresses and perfumes himself for such sad unemigrated soiree as there may still be; and speaks his woes,—­which woes, are they not Majesty’s and Nature’s?  Speaks, at the same time, his gay defiance, his firm-set resolution.  Citizens, still more Citizenesses, see the right and the wrong; not the Military System alone will die by suicide, but much along with it.  As was said, there is yet possible a deepest overturn than any yet witnessed:  that deepest upturn of the black-burning sulphurous stratum whereon all rests and grows!