Curate Grégoire, and lame Couthon of the Mountain rises; and in rapid Melibœan stanzas, only a few lines each, they propose motions not a few: That the corner-stone of our new Constitution is, Sovereignty of the People; that our Constitution shall be accepted by the People or be null; further that the People ought to be avenged, and have right Judges; that the Imposts must continue till new order; that Landed and other Property be sacred for ever; finally that 'Royalty from this day is abolished in France':—Decreed all, before four o'clock strike, with acclamation of the world![1] The tree was all so ripe; only shake it, and there fall such yellow cartloads.
And so over in the Valmy Region, as soon as the news come, what stir is this, audible, visible from our muddy Heights of La Lune?[2] Universal shouting of the French on their opposite hill-side; caps raised on bayonets: and a sound as of République: Vive la République borne dubious on the winds!—On the morrow morning, so to speak, Brunswick slings his knapsacks before day, lights any fires he has; and marches without tap of drum. Dumouriez finds ghastly symptoms in that camp; 'latrines full of blood'![3] The chivalrous King of Prussia,—for he, as we saw, is here in person,—may long rue the day; may look colder than ever on these dulled-bright Seigneurs, and French Princes their Country's hope;—and, on the whole, put on his greatcoat without ceremony, happy that he has one. They retire, all retire with convenient despatch, through a Champagne trodden into a quagmire, the wild weather pouring on them: Dumouriez, through his Kellermanns and Dillons, pricking them a little in the hinder parts. A little, not much; now pricking, now negotiating: for Brunswick has his eyes opened; and the Majesty of Prussia is a repentant Majesty.
Nor has Austria prospered; nor the Wooden Horse of
