第734章

Imagine the scene - Henriot's levee at head-quarters， and a writing table， with， perhaps， a bottle of brandy on it； on one side of the table， the rascal who， while buckling on his belt or drawing on his boots， softens his husky voice， and， with his nervous twitchings， flounders through his humanitarian homily； on the other side the mute， uneasy secretary， who may probably be able to spell， but who dares not materially change the grotesque phraseology of his master.

The Commune which employs the commanding-general is of about the same alloy， for， in the municipal sword， the blade and hilt， forged together in the Jacobin shop， are composed of the same base metal. -Fifty-six， out of eighty-eight members， whose qualifications and occupations are known， are decidedly illiterate， or nearly so， their education being rudimentary， or none at all.[47] Some of them are petty clerks， counter-jumpers and common scribblers， one among them being a public writer； others are small shopkeepers， pastry-cooks， mercers， hosiers， fruit-sellers and wine-dealers； yet others are simple mechanics or even laborers， carpenters， joiners， cabinet-makers， locksmiths， and especially three tailors， four hair-dressers， two masons， two shoemakers， one cobbler， one gardener； one stone-cutter， one paver， one office-runner， and one domestic. Among the thirty-two who are instructed， one alone has any reputation， Paris， professor at the University and the assistant of Abbé Delille. Only one， Dumetz， an old engineer， steady， moderate and attending to the supplies， seems a competent and useful workman. The rest， collected from amongst the mass of unknown demagogues， are six art-apprentices or bad painters， six business-agents or ex-lawyers， seven second or third-rate merchants， one teacher， one surgeon， one unfrocked married priest， all of whom， under the political direction of Mayor Fleuriot-Lescot and Payen， the national agent， bring to the general council no administrative ability， but the faculty for verbal argumentation， along with the requisite amount of talk and scribbling indispensable to a deliberative assembly. And it is curious to see them in session.

Toward the end of September， 1793，[48] one of the veterans of liberal philosophy and political economy， belonging to the French Academy and ruined by the Revolution， the old Abbé Morellet， needs a certificate of civism， to enable him to obtain payment of the small pension of one thousand francs， which the Constituent Assembly had voted him in recompense for his writings； the Commune， desiring information about this， selects three of its body to inquire into it. Morellet naturally takes the preliminary steps. He first writes "a very humble， very civic note，" to the president of the General Council， Lubin Jr.， formerly an art-apprentice who had abandoned art for politics， and is now living with his father a butcher， in the rue St.

Honoré； he calls on this authority， and passes through the stall， picking his way amongst the slaughterhouse offal； admitted after some delay， he finds his judge in bed， before whom he pleads his cause. He then calls upon Bernard， an ex-priest， "built like an incendiary and ill-looking，" and respectfully bows to the lady of the house， "a tolerably young woman， but very ugly and very dirty." Finally， he carries his ten or a dozen volumes to the most important of the three examiners， Vialard， " ex-ladies' hair-dresser； " the latter is almost a colleague， "for，" says he， " I have always liked technicians， having presented to the Academy of Sciences a top which I invented myself."Nobody， however， had seen the petitioner in the streets on the 10th of August， nor on the 2nd of September， nor on the 31st of May； how can a certificate of civism be granted after such evidences of lukewarmness？

Morellet， not disheartened， awaits the all-powerful hair-dresser at the H？tel-de-Ville， and accosts him frequently as he passes along.

He， "with greater haughtiness and distraction than the most unapproachable Minister of War would show to an infantry lieutenant，"scarcely listens to him and walks on； he goes in and takes his seat， and Morellet， much against his will， has to be present at ten or twelve of these meetings. What strange meetings， to which patriotic deputations， volunteers and amateurs come in turn to declaim and sing；where the president， Lubin， "decorated with his scarf，" shouts the Marseilles Hymn five or six times， "Ca Ira，" and other songs of several stanzas， set to tunes of the Comic Opera， and always "out of time， displaying the voice， airs and songs of an exquisite Leander. .

. I really believe that， at the last meeting， he sung alone in this manner three quarters of an hour at different times， the assembly repeating the last line of the verse." - " How odd！" exclaims a common woman alongside of Morellet， "how droll， passing all their time here， singing in that fashion！ Is that what they come here for？" - Not alone for that： after the circus-parade is over， the ordinary haranguers， and especially the hair-dresser， come and propose measures for murder "in infuriate language and with fiery gesticulation." Such are the good speakers[49] and men for show. The others， who remain silent， and hardly know to write， act and do the rough work. A certain Chalaudon， member of the Commune，[50] is one of this kind， president of the Revolutionary Committee of the section of "L'Homme armé，" and probably an excellent man-hunter； for "the government committees assigned to him the duty of watching the right bank of the Seine， and， with extraordinary powers conferred on him， he rules from his back shop one half of Paris. Woe to those he has reason to complain of， those who have withdrawn from， or not given him， their custom！