The same kind of thing went on at Versailles. The King had a Minister of Foreign Affairs; uniforms were made for the gardes du corps, and sent to Trêves; horses were bought in England for the accommodation of the King’s household; and the only grumble that Louis XVI made, when he paid the bills, was, that, at least, they might have bought the horses in France. The Comte D’Artois, the Prince Condé, and the other exiles, received enormous pensions. They had not then been able to find what became of the sixty millions. But now the Red Book pointed out where they had gone. If, up to this moment, there had been any hesitation on the minds of the people, that hesitation now disappeared. They knew where was their enemy. The enemy was the exiles, and their ally, the King, who pensioned them. This was the reason why the Assembly struck a decisive blow, and put up for sale, at one time, ecclesiastical benefices to the tune of four hundred millions. Paris alone bought two hundred millions’ worth. All the municipalities followed that example. They bought a great number, and then sold them, one by one. In a word, they wished to expropriate the clergy, and they did not hesitate to do it. There is something miraculous in this, and which does not appear in the history of any other country. And that is, the spontaneous organization of France by itself. The Assembly was only a secretary. France did the deed; the Assembly registered it. Before that, the division of old France into provinces was abolished; the boundaries had been already changed; there were no longer Provençals, Bretons, Alsaciens, Picards, or French. The Champ de Mars was Mount Tabor, transfigured by the sun of June. Valence gave, on the 29th of November, 1789, the example of the first federation; and each strove to follow the example given by the zealous Dauphin, our vanguard against the great enemy, the Savoyard King. From anterior ages, the eldest man has always presided, whether noble or not. His age makes his right—his white locks his crown. Rouen searched for an old Chevalier of Malta, eighty-five years of age, to preside at its federation. In St. Audeol, there were two old men, respectively ninety-three and ninety-four years of age, the one a noble, and the other a plebeian—the one a colonel, the other a laborer. These two embraced at the altar, and the spectators embraced each other, crying, “There is no longer an aristocracy, no longer a working-class—there are only Frenchmen!” At Lous le Lauheur, a citizen, whose name is forgotten, gave this toast:— “To all men, equally to our enemies: let us swear to love and protect them.” Open the book of royalty, and see if you can find a sentiment equal to that inscribed on the first page of the book of the people. From all places, provincial and isolated, one cry arose:— “To Paris! To Paris! To Paris!”