her nurselings.  Why, there is not a leathern Diligence, with its post-bags and luggage-boots, that lumbers out from her, but is as a huge life-pulse; she is the heart of all.  Cut short that one leathern Diligence, how much is cut short!—­General Wimpfen, looking practically into the matter, can see nothing for it but that one should fall back on Royalism; get into communication with Pitt!  Dark innuendoes he flings out, to that effect:  whereat we Girondins start, horrorstruck.  He produces as his Second in command a certain ‘Ci-devant,’ one Comte Puisaye; entirely unknown to Louvet; greatly suspected by him.

Few wars, accordingly, were ever levied of a more insufficient character than this of Calvados.  He that is curious in such things may read the details of it in the Memoirs of that same Ci-devant Puisaye, the much-enduring man and Royalist:  How our Girondin National Forces, marching off with plenty of wind-music, were drawn out about the old Chateau of Brecourt, in the wood-country near Vernon, to meet the Mountain National forces advancing from Paris.  How on the fifteenth afternoon of July, they did meet,—­and, as it were, shrieked mutually, and took mutually to flight without loss.  How Puisaye thereafter, for the Mountain Nationals fled first, and we thought ourselves the victors,—­was roused from his warm bed in the Castle of Brecourt; and had to gallop without boots; our Nationals, in the night-watches, having fallen unexpectedly into sauve qui peut:—­and in brief the Calvados War had burnt priming; and the only question now was, Whitherward to vanish, in what hole to hide oneself! (Memoires de Puisaye (London, 1803), ii. 142-67.)

The National Volunteers rush homewards, faster than they came.  The Seventy-two Respectable Departments, says Meillan, ’all turned round, and forsook us, in the space of four-and-twenty hours.’  Unhappy those who, as at Lyons for instance, have gone too far for turning!  ’One morning,’ we find placarded on our Intendance Mansion, the Decree of Convention which casts us Hors la loi, into Outlawry:  placarded by our Caen Magistrates;—­clear hint that we also are to vanish.  Vanish, indeed:  but whitherward?  Gorsas has friends in Rennes; he will hide there,—­unhappily will not lie hid.  Guadet, Lanjuinais are on cross roads; making for Bourdeaux.  To Bourdeaux! cries the general voice, of Valour alike and of Despair.  Some flag of Respectability still floats there, or is thought to float.

Thitherward therefore; each as he can!  Eleven of these ill-fated Deputies, among whom we may count, as twelfth, Friend Riouffe the Man of Letters, do an original thing.  Take the uniform of National Volunteers, and retreat southward with the Breton Battalion, as private soldiers of that corps.  These brave Bretons had stood truer by us than any other.  Nevertheless, at the end of a day or two, they also do now get dubious, self-divided; we must part from them; and, with some half-dozen as convoy or guide, retreat by ourselves,—­a solitary marching detachment, through waste regions of the West. (Louvet, pp. 101-37; Meillan, pp. 81, 241-70.)