We observe, however, that this first onslaught by the Friends of Order, as sharp and prompt as it was, has failed.  For neither can Robespierre, summoned out by talk of Dictatorship, and greeted with the like rumour on shewing himself, be thrown into Prison, into Accusation;—­not though Barbarous openly bear testimony against him, and sign it on paper.  With such sanctified meekness does the Incorruptible lift his seagreen cheek to the smiter; lift his thin voice, and with jesuitic dexterity plead, and prosper:  asking at last, in a prosperous manner:  “But what witnesses has the Citoyen Barbaroux to support his testimony?” “Moi!” cries hot Rebecqui, standing up, striking his breast with both hands, and answering, “Me!” (Moniteur, ut supra; Seance du 25 Septembre.) Nevertheless the Seagreen pleads again, and makes it good:  the long hurlyburly, ‘personal merely,’ while so much public matter lies fallow, has ended in the order of the day.  O Friends of the Gironde, why will you occupy our august sessions with mere paltry Personalities, while the grand Nationality lies in such a state?—­The Gironde has touched, this day, on the foul black-spot of its fair Convention Domain; has trodden on it, and yet not trodden it down.  Alas, it is a well-spring, as we said, this black-spot; and will not tread down!

Chapter 3.2.II.

The Executive.

May we not conjecture therefore that round this grand enterprise of Making the Constitution there will, as heretofore, very strange embroilments gather, and questions and interests complicate themselves; so that after a few or even several months, the Convention will not have settled every thing?  Alas, a whole tide of questions comes rolling, boiling; growing ever wider, without end!  Among which, apart from this question of September and Anarchy, let us notice those, which emerge oftener than the others, and promise to become Leading Questions:  of the Armies; of the Subsistences; thirdly, of the Dethroned King.

As to the Armies, Public Defence must evidently be put on a proper footing; for Europe seems coalising itself again; one is apprehensive even England will join it.  Happily Dumouriez prospers in the North;—­nay what if he should prove too prosperous, and become Liberticide, Murderer of Freedom!—­Dumouriez prospers, through this winter season; yet not without lamentable complaints.  Sleek Pache, the Swiss Schoolmaster, he that sat frugal in his Alley, the wonder of neighbours, has got lately—­whither thinks the Reader?  To be Minister of war!  Madame Roland, struck with his sleek ways, recommended him to her Husband as Clerk:  the sleek Clerk had no need of salary, being of true Patriotic temper; he would come with a bit of bread in his pocket, to save dinner and time; and, munching incidentally, do three men’s work in a day, punctual, silent, frugal,—­the sleek Tartuffe that he was.  Wherefore Roland, in the late Overturn, recommended him to be War-Minister.  And now, it would seem, he is secretly undermining Roland; playing into the hands of your hotter Jacobins and September Commune; and cannot, like strict Roland, be the Veto des Coquins! (Madame Roland, Memoires, ii. 237, &c.)