What to do with the Finance? This indeed is the great question: a small but most black weather-symptom, which no radiance of universal hope can cover. We saw Turgot cast forth from the Controllership, with shrieks,—for want of a Fortunatus’ Purse. As little could M. de Clugny manage the duty; or indeed do anything, but consume his wages; attain “a place in History,” where as an ineffectual shadow thou beholdest him still lingering;—and let the duty manage itself. Did Genevese Necker _possess_ such a Purse, then? He possessed banker’s skill, banker’s honesty; _credit_ of all kinds, for he had written Academic Prize Essays, struggled for India Companies, given dinners to Philosophes, and “realised a fortune in twenty years.” He possessed, further, a taciturnity and solemnity; of depth, or else of dulness. How singular for Celadon Gibbon, false swain as he had proved; whose father, keeping most probably his own gig, “would not hear of such a union,”—to find now his forsaken Demoiselle Curchod sitting in the high places of the world, as Minister’s Madame, and “Necker not jealous!”[40] A new young Demoiselle, one day to be famed as a Madame and De Staël, was romping about the knees of the Decline and Fall: the lady Necker founds Hospitals; gives solemn Philosophe dinner-parties, to cheer her exhausted Controller-General. Strange things have happened: by clamour of Philosophism, management of Marquis de Pezay, and Poverty constraining even Kings. And so Necker, Atlas-like, sustains the burden of the Finances, for five years long?[41] Without wages, for he refused such; cheered only by Public Opinion, and the ministering of his noble Wife. With many thoughts in him, it is hoped;—which, however, he is shy of uttering. His _Compte Rendu_, published by the royal permission, fresh sign of a New Era, shows wonders;—which what but the genius of some Atlas-Necker can prevent from becoming portents? In Necker’s head too there is a whole pacific French Revolution, of its kind; and in that taciturn dull depth, or deep dulness, ambition enough. Meanwhile, alas, his Fotunatus’ Purse turns out to be little other than the old “_vectigal_ of Parsimony.” Nay, he too has to produce his scheme of taxing: Clergy, Noblesse to be taxed; Provincial Assemblies, and the rest,—like a mere Turgot! The expiring M. de Maurepas must gyrate one other time. Let Necker also depart; not unlamented.