The thing which the King’s Government did do was to stagger distractedly from contradiction to contradiction; and wedding Fire to Water, envelope itself in hissing, and ashy steam!  Danton and needy corruptible Patriots are sopped with presents of cash:  they accept the sop:  they rise refreshed by it, and travel their own way. (Ibid. i. c. 17.) Nay, the King’s Government did likewise hire Hand-clappers, or claqueurs, persons to applaud.  Subterranean Rivarol has Fifteen Hundred men in King’s pay, at the rate of some ten thousand pounds sterling, per month; what he calls ‘a staff of genius:’  Paragraph-writers, Placard-Journalists; ’two hundred and eighty Applauders, at three shillings a day:’  one of the strangest Staffs ever commanded by man.  The muster-rolls and account-books of which still exist. (Montgaillard, iii. 41.) Bertrand-Moleville himself, in a way he thinks very dexterous, contrives to pack the Galleries of the Legislative; gets Sansculottes hired to go thither, and applaud at a signal given, they fancying it was Petion that bid them:  a device which was not detected for almost a week.  Dexterous enough; as if a man finding the Day fast decline should determine on altering the Clockhands:  that is a thing possible for him.

Here too let us note an unexpected apparition of Philippe d’Orleans at Court:  his last at the Levee of any King.  D’Orleans, sometime in the winter months seemingly, has been appointed to that old first-coveted rank of Admiral,—­though only over ships rotting in port.  The wished-for comes too late!  However, he waits on Bertrand-Moleville to give thanks:  nay to state that he would willingly thank his Majesty in person; that, in spite of all the horrible things men have said and sung, he is far from being his Majesty’s enemy; at bottom, how far!  Bertrand delivers the message, brings about the royal Interview, which does pass to the satisfaction of his Majesty; d’Orleans seeming clearly repentant, determined to turn over a new leaf.  And yet, next Sunday, what do we see?  ‘Next Sunday,’ says Bertrand, ’he came to the King’s Levee; but the Courtiers ignorant of what had passed, the crowd of Royalists who were accustomed to resort thither on that day specially to pay their court, gave him the most humiliating reception.  They came pressing round him; managing, as if by mistake, to tread on his toes, to elbow him towards the door, and not let him enter again.  He went downstairs to her Majesty’s Apartments, where cover was laid; so soon as he shewed face, sounds rose on all sides, “Messieurs, take care of the dishes,” as if he had carried poison in his pockets.  The insults which his presence every where excited forced him to retire without having seen the Royal Family:  the crowd followed him to the Queen’s Staircase; in descending, he received a spitting (crachat) on the head, and some others, on his clothes.  Rage and spite were seen visibly painted on his face:’  (Bertrand-Moleville, i. 177.) as indeed how could they miss to be?  He imputes it all to the King and Queen, who know nothing of it, who are even much grieved at it; and so descends, to his Chaos again.  Bertrand was there at the Chateau that day himself, and an eye-witness to these things.