baye, it has lasted long: a poor Nonjurant, of quicker temper, smites
the horny paw with his cane; nay, finding solacement in it, smites the
unkempt head, sharply and again more sharply, twice over,--seen clearly
of us and of the world. It is the last that we see clearly. Alas, next
moment, the carriages are locked and blocked in endless raging tumults;
in yells deaf to the cry for mercy, which answer the cry for mercy with
sabre-thrusts through the heart. (Felemhesi (anagram for Mehee Fils), La
Verite tout entiere, sur les vrais auteurs de la journee du 2 Septembre
1792 (reprinted in Hist. Parl. xviii. 156-181), p. 167.) The thirty
Priests are torn out, are massacred about the Prison-Gate, one after
one,--only the poor Abbe Sicard, whom one Moton a watchmaker, knowing
him, heroically tried to save, and secrete in the Prison, escapes to
tell;--and it is Night and Orcus, and Murder's snaky-sparkling head has
risen in the murk!--

From Sunday afternoon (exclusive of intervals, and pauses not final)
till Thursday evening, there follow consecutively a Hundred Hours.
Which hundred hours are to be reckoned with the hours of the Bartholomew
Butchery, of the Armagnac Massacres, Sicilian Vespers, or whatsoever is
savagest in the annals of this world. Horrible the hour when man's soul,
in its paroxysm, spurns asunder the barriers and rules; and shews what
dens and depths are in it! For Night and Orcus, as we say, as was
long prophesied, have burst forth, here in this Paris, from their
subterranean imprisonment: hideous, dim, confused; which it is painful
to look on; and yet which cannot, and indeed which should not, be
forgotten.

The Reader, who looks earnestly through this dim Phantasmagory of the
Pit, will discern few fixed certain objects; and yet still a few. He
will observe, in this Abbaye Prison, the sudden massacre of the Priests
being once over, a strange Court of Justice, or call it Court of Revenge
and Wild-Justice, swiftly fashion itself, and take seat round a table,
with the Prison-Registers spread before it;--Stanislas Maillard,
Bastille-hero, famed Leader of the Menads, presiding. O Stanislas, one
hoped to meet thee elsewhere than here; thou shifty Riding-Usher, with
an inkling of Law! This work also thou hadst to do; and then--to depart
for ever from our eyes. At La Force, at the Chatelet, the Conciergerie,
the like Court forms itself, with the like accompaniments: the thing
that one man does other men can do. Th