erest; these are
the beings who, led on by drunken curates, are now on the high road
to liberty, and the first use they make of it is to rebel on all sides
because there is dearth."[5309]

How could things be otherwise? Every idea, previous to taking root in
their brain, must possess a legendary form, as absurd as it is simple,
adapted to their experiences, their faculties, their fears and their
aspirations. Once planted in this uncultivated and fertile soil it
vegetates and becomes transformed, developing into gross excrescences,
somber foliage and poisonous fruit. The more monstrous the greater its
vigor, clinging to the slightest of probabilities and tenacious against
the most certain of demonstrations. Under Louis XV, in an arrest of
vagabonds, a few children having been carried off willfully or by
mistake, the rumor spreads that the king takes baths in blood to restore
his exhausted functions, and, so true does this seem to be, the
women, horrified through their maternal instincts, join in the riot; a
policeman is seized and knocked down, and, on his demanding a confessor,
a woman in the crowd, picking up a stone, cries out that he must not
have time to go to heaven, and smashes his head with it, believing that
she is performing an act of justice[5310]. Under Louis XVI evidence is
presented to the people that there is no scarcity: in 1789, [5311] an
officer, listening to the conversation of his soldiers, hears them state
"with full belief that the princes and courtiers, with a view to
starve Paris out, are throwing flour into the Seine." Turning to a
quarter-master he asks him how he can possibly believe such an absurd
story. "Lieutenant," he replies, "'tis time--the bags were tied with
blue strings (cordons bleus)." To them this is a sufficient reason, and
no argument could convince them to the contrary. Thus, among the dregs
of society, foul and horrible romances are forged, in connection
the famine and the Bastille, in which Louis XVI., the queen Marie
Antoinette, the Comte d'Artois, Madame de Lamballe, the Polignacs, the
revenue farmers, the seigniors and ladies of high rank are portrayed as
vampires and ghouls. I have seen many editions of these in the pamphlets
of the day, in the engravings not exhibited, and among popular prints
and illustrations, the latter the most effective, since they appeal to
the eye. They surpass the stories of Mandrin[5312] and Cartouche,
being exactly suitable for men whose literatu