On the 13th of July of this 1788, there fell, on the very edge of harvest, the most frightful hailstorm; scattering into wild waste the Fruits of the Year; which had otherwise suffered grievously by drought. For sixty leagues round Paris especially, the ruin was almost total.[97] To so many other evils, then, there is to be added, that of dearth, perhaps of famine. Some days before this hailstorm, on the 5th of July; and still more decisively some days after it, on the 8th of August,—Loménie announces that the States-General are actually to meet in the following month of May. Till after which period, this of the Plenary Court, and the rest, shall remain _postponed_. Further, as in Loménie there is no plan of forming or holding these most desirable States-General, “thinkers are invited” to furnish him with one,—through the medium of discussion by the public press! What could a poor Minister do? There are still ten months of respite reserved: a sinking pilot will fling out all things, his very biscuit-bags, lead, log, compass and quadrant, before flinging out _himself_. It is on this principle, of sinking, and the incipient delirium of despair, that we explain likewise the almost miraculous “invitation to thinkers.” Invitation to Chaos to be so kind as build, out of its tumultuous drift-wood, an Ark of Escape for him! In these cases, not invitation but command has usually proved serviceable.—The Queen stood, that evening, pensive, in a window, with her face turned towards the Garden. The _Chef de Gobelet_ had followed her with an obsequious cup of coffee; and then retired till it were sipped. Her Majesty beckoned Dame Campan to approach: ‘_Grand Dieu!_’ murmured she, with the cup in her hand, ‘what a piece of news will be made public today! The King grants States-General.’ Then raising her eyes to Heaven (if Campan were not mistaken), she added: ‘’Tis a first beat of the drum, of ill-omen for France. This Noblesse will ruin us.’[98]