At all events, for these three miraculous years, it has been expedient heaped on expedient; till now, with such cumulation and height, the pile topples perilous.  And here has this world’s-wonder of a Diamond Necklace brought it at last to the clear verge of tumbling.  Genius in that direction can no more:  mounted high enough, or not mounted, we must fare forth.  Hardly is poor Rohan, the Necklace-Cardinal, safely bestowed in the Auvergne Mountains, Dame de Lamotte (unsafely) in the Salpetriere, and that mournful business hushed up, when our sanguine Controller once more astonishes the world.  An expedient, unheard of for these hundred and sixty years, has been propounded; and, by dint of suasion (for his light audacity, his hope and eloquence are matchless) has been got adopted,—­Convocation of the Notables.

Let notable persons, the actual or virtual rulers of their districts, be summoned from all sides of France:  let a true tale, of his Majesty’s patriotic purposes and wretched pecuniary impossibilities, be suasively told them; and then the question put:  What are we to do?  Surely to adopt healing measures; such as the magic of genius will unfold; such as, once sanctioned by Notables, all Parlements and all men must, with more or less reluctance, submit to.

Chapter 1.3.III.

The Notables.

Here, then is verily a sign and wonder; visible to the whole world; bodeful of much.  The Oeil-de-Boeuf dolorously grumbles; were we not well as we stood,—­quenching conflagrations by oil?  Constitutional Philosophedom starts with joyful surprise; stares eagerly what the result will be.  The public creditor, the public debtor, the whole thinking and thoughtless public have their several surprises, joyful and sorrowful.  Count Mirabeau, who has got his matrimonial and other Lawsuits huddled up, better or worse; and works now in the dimmest element at Berlin; compiling Prussian Monarchies, Pamphlets On Cagliostro; writing, with pay, but not with honourable recognition, innumerable Despatches for his Government,—­scents or descries richer quarry from afar.  He, like an eagle or vulture, or mixture of both, preens his wings for flight homewards. (Fils Adoptif, Memoires de Mirabeau, t. iv. livv. 4 et 5.)

M. de Calonne has stretched out an Aaron’s Rod over France; miraculous; and is summoning quite unexpected things.  Audacity and hope alternate in him with misgivings; though the sanguine-valiant side carries it.  Anon he writes to an intimate friend, “Here me fais pitie a moi-meme (I am an object of pity to myself);” anon, invites some dedicating Poet or Poetaster to sing ’this Assembly of the Notables and the Revolution that is preparing.’ (Biographie Universelle, para Calonne (by Guizot).) Preparing indeed; and a matter to be sung,—­only not till we have seen it, and what the issue of it is.  In deep obscure unrest, all things have so long gone rocking and swaying:  will M. de Calonne, with this his alchemy of the Notables, fasten all together again, and get new revenues?  Or wrench all asunder; so that it go no longer rocking and swaying, but clashing and colliding?