man do other than rise to height of pity, of loyal valour?  Could featherheaded young ensigns do other than, by white Bourbon Cockades, handed them from fair fingers; by waving of swords, drawn to pledge the Queen’s health; by trampling of National Cockades; by scaling the Boxes, whence intrusive murmurs may come; by vociferation, tripudiation, sound, fury and distraction, within doors and without,—­testify what tempest-tost state of vacuity they are in?  Till champagne and tripudiation do their work; and all lie silent, horizontal; passively slumbering, with meed-of-battle dreams!—­

A natural Repast, in ordinary times, a harmless one:  now fatal, as that of Thyestes; as that of Job’s Sons, when a strong wind smote the four corners of their banquet-house!  Poor ill-advised Marie-Antoinette; with a woman’s vehemence, not with a sovereign’s foresight!  It was so natural, yet so unwise.  Next day, in public speech of ceremony, her Majesty declares herself ‘delighted with the Thursday.’

The heart of the Oeil-de-Boeuf glows into hope; into daring, which is premature.  Rallied Maids of Honour, waited on by Abbes, sew ’white cockades;’ distribute them, with words, with glances, to epauletted youths; who in return, may kiss, not without fervour, the fair sewing fingers.  Captains of horse and foot go swashing with ’enormous white cockades;’ nay one Versailles National Captain had mounted the like, so witching were the words and glances; and laid aside his tricolor!  Well may Major Lecointre shake his head with a look of severity; and speak audible resentful words.  But now a swashbuckler, with enormous white cockade, overhearing the Major, invites him insolently, once and then again elsewhere, to recant; and failing that, to duel.  Which latter feat Major Lecointre declares that he will not perform, not at least by any known laws of fence; that he nevertheless will, according to mere law of Nature, by dirk and blade, ‘exterminate’ any ‘vile gladiator,’ who may insult him or the Nation;—­whereupon (for the Major is actually drawing his implement) ‘they are parted,’ and no weasands slit. (Moniteur (in Histoire Parlementaire, iii. 59); Deux Amis (iii. 128-141); Campan (ii. 70-85), &c. &c.)

Chapter 1.7.III.

Black Cockades.

But fancy what effect this Thyestes Repast and trampling on the National Cockade, must have had in the Salle des Menus; in the famishing Bakers’-queues at Paris!  Nay such Thyestes Repasts, it would seem, continue.  Flandre has given its Counter-Dinner to the Swiss and Hundred Swiss; then on Saturday there has been another.