“Frenchmen, heroes of the 14th of July, who, without guide or leader, yet acquired your liberty, come forth, and let us form that army which you tell us is destined to conquer the universe.  But where is the general, who, imperturbable defender of the rights of the people, and born with a hatred to tyrants, has never breathed the poisonous air of the courts, and whose virtue is attested by the hatred and disgrace of the court; this general, whose hands, guiltless of our blood, are worthy to bear before us the banner of freedom; where is he, this new Cato, this third Brutus, this unknown hero? let him appear and disclose himself, he shall be our leader.  But where is he?  Where are these soldiers of the 14th of July, who laid down, in the presence of the people, the arms furnished them by despotism.  Soldiers of Chateauvieux, where are you?  Come and direct our efforts.  Alas! it is easier to rob death of its prey, than despotism of its victims.  Citizens!  Conquerors of the Bastille, come!  Liberty summons you, and assigns you the honour of the first rank!  They are mute.  Misery, ingratitude, and the hatred of the aristocracy, have dispersed them.  And you, citizens, immolated at the Champ-de-Mars, in the very act of a patriotic confederation, you will not be with us.  Ah, what crime had these females, these massacred babes, committed?  Good God! how many victims, and all amongst the people—­all amongst the patriots, whilst the powerful conspirators live and triumph.  Rally round us, at least you national guards, who have especially devoted yourselves to the defence of our frontiers in this war with which a perfidious court threatens us.  Come—­but how?—­you are not yet armed.  During two whole years you have demanded arms, and yet have them not.  What do I say?  You have been refused even uniforms, and condemned to wander from department to department, objects of contempt to the minister, and of derision to the patricians, who receive you only to enjoy the spectacle of your distress.  No matter; come, we will combat naked like the American savages.

“But shall we await the orders of the war office to destroy thrones?  Shall we await the signal of the court?  Shall we be commanded by these patricians, these eternal favourites of despotism, in this war against aristocrats and kings?  No—­let us march forward alone; let us be our own leaders.  But see, the orators of war stop me!  Here is Monsieur Brissot, who tells me that Monsieur le Comte de Narbonne must conduct this affair; that we must march under the orders of Monsieur le Marquis de La Fayette; that the executive power alone possesses the right of leading the nation to victory and freedom.  Ah, citizens, this word has dispelled all the charm!  Adieu, victory and the independence of the people; if the sceptres of Europe ever be broken, it will not be by such hands.  Spain will continue for some time the degraded slave of superstition and royalism.  Leopold will continue the tyrant of Germany and Italy,