Such liberal Edict of Protestant Emancipation, the time having come for it, shall cost a Lomenie as little as the ’Death-penalties to be put in execution’ did.  As for the liberal Promise, of States-General, it can be fulfilled or not:  the fulfilment is five good years off; in five years much intervenes.  But the registering?  Ah, truly, there is the difficulty!—­However, we have that promise of the Elders, given secretly at Troyes.  Judicious gratuities, cajoleries, underground intrigues, with old Foulon, named ‘Ame damnee, Familiar-demon, of the Parlement,’ may perhaps do the rest.  At worst and lowest, the Royal Authority has resources,—­which ought it not to put forth?  If it cannot realise money, the Royal Authority is as good as dead; dead of that surest and miserablest death, inanition.  Risk and win; without risk all is already lost!  For the rest, as in enterprises of pith, a touch of stratagem often proves furthersome, his Majesty announces a Royal Hunt, for the 19th of November next; and all whom it concerns are joyfully getting their gear ready.

Royal Hunt indeed; but of two-legged unfeathered game!  At eleven in the morning of that Royal-Hunt day, 19th of November 1787, unexpected blare of trumpetting, tumult of charioteering and cavalcading disturbs the Seat of Justice:  his Majesty is come, with Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon, and Peers and retinue, to hold Royal Session and have Edicts registered.  What a change, since Louis xiv. entered here, in boots; and, whip in hand, ordered his registering to be done,—­with an Olympian look which none durst gainsay; and did, without stratagem, in such unceremonious fashion, hunt as well as register! (Dulaure, vi. 306.) For Louis xvi., on this day, the Registering will be enough; if indeed he and the day suffice for it.

Meanwhile, with fit ceremonial words, the purpose of the royal breast is signified:—­Two Edicts, for Protestant Emancipation, for Successive Loan:  of both which Edicts our trusty Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon will explain the purport; on both which a trusty Parlement is requested to deliver its opinion, each member having free privilege of speech.  And so, Lamoignon too having perorated not amiss, and wound up with that Promise of States-General,—­the Sphere-music of Parlementary eloquence begins.  Explosive, responsive, sphere answering sphere, it waxes louder and louder.  The Peers sit attentive; of diverse sentiment:  unfriendly to States-General; unfriendly to Despotism, which cannot reward merit, and is suppressing places.  But what agitates his Highness d’Orleans?  The rubicund moon-head goes wagging; darker beams the copper visage, like unscoured copper; in the glazed eye is disquietude; he rolls uneasy in his seat, as if he meant something.  Amid unutterable satiety, has sudden new appetite, for new forbidden fruit, been vouchsafed him?  Disgust and edacity; laziness that cannot rest; futile ambition, revenge, non-admiralship:—­O, within that carbuncled skin what a confusion of confusions sits bottled!