The poor Legislative knows not what to do.  It decrees, however, that the Staff of the Paris Guard, and indeed all such Staffs, for they are Feuillants mostly, shall be broken and replaced.  It decrees earnestly in what manner one can declare that the Country is in Danger.  And finally, on the 11th of July, the morrow of that day when the Ministry struck work, it decrees that the Country be, with all despatch, declared in Danger.  Whereupon let the King sanction; let the Municipality take measures:  if such Declaration will do service, it need not fail.

In Danger, truly, if ever Country was!  Arise, O Country; or be trodden down to ignominious ruin!  Nay, are not the chances a hundred to one that no rising of the Country will save it; Brunswick, the Emigrants, and Feudal Europe drawing nigh?

Chapter 2.6.II.

Let us march.

But to our minds the notablest of all these moving phenomena, is that of Barbaroux’s ‘Six Hundred Marseillese who know how to die.’

Prompt to the request of Barbaroux, the Marseilles Municipality has got these men together:  on the fifth morning of July, the Townhall says, “Marchez, abatez le Tyran, March, strike down the Tyrant;” (Dampmartin, ii. 183.) and they, with grim appropriate “Marchons,” are marching.  Long journey, doubtful errand; Enfans de la Patrie, may a good genius guide you!  Their own wild heart and what faith it has will guide them:  and is not that the monition of some genius, better or worse?  Five Hundred and Seventeen able men, with Captains of fifties and tens; well armed all, musket on shoulder, sabre on thigh:  nay they drive three pieces of cannon; for who knows what obstacles may occur?  Municipalities there are, paralyzed by War-minister; Commandants with orders to stop even Federation Volunteers; good, when sound arguments will not open a Town-gate, if you have a petard to shiver it!  They have left their sunny Phocean City and Sea-haven, with its bustle and its bloom:  the thronging Course, with high-frondent Avenues, pitchy dockyards, almond and olive groves, orange trees on house-tops, and white glittering bastides that crown the hills, are all behind them.  They wend on their wild way, from the extremity of French land, through unknown cities, toward an unknown destiny; with a purpose that they know.

Much wondering at this phenomenon, and how, in a peaceable trading City, so many householders or hearth-holders do severally fling down their crafts and industrial tools; gird themselves with weapons of war, and set out on a journey of six hundred miles to ’strike down the tyrant,’—­you search in all Historical Books, Pamphlets, and Newspapers, for some light on it:  unhappily without effect.  Rumour and Terror precede this march; which still echo on you; the march itself an unknown thing.  Weber, in the back-stairs of the Tuileries, has understood that they were Forcats, Galley-slaves and mere scoundrels,