. . People caper and dance about as if they could not
repress their joy; they talk of nothing but the boy, (Louis XVIII.
confined in the Temple), and the new elections. Everybody agrees on
excluding the present deputies . . . . There is less discussion on
the crimes which each has committed than on the insignificance of the
entire assemblage, while the epithets of vicious, used up and corrupt
have almost wholly given way to thieves and scoundrels."[10] Even in
Paris, during the closing months of their rule, they hardly dare
appear in public: "in the dirtiest and most careless costume which the
tricolor scarf and gold fringe makes more apparent, they try to escape
notice in the crowd[11] and, in spite of their modesty, do not always
avoid insult and still less the maledictions of those who pass them."
- In the provinces, at home, it would be worse for them; their lives
would be in danger; in any event, they would be dragged through the
gutter, and this they know. Save about "twenty of them," all who are
not to succeed in entering the new Corps Legislatif, will intrigue for
offices in Paris and become "state messengers, employees in bureaux,
and ushers to ministers;" in default of other places they would accept
those of "hall-sweeps.
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