everywhere in quest of their imaginary enemies, plunging forward
with closed eyes no matter on whom or on what, not merely with all
the weight of their mass, but with all the energy of their fury.

IV.

Panic. - General arming.

>From the earliest of these weeks they were already alarmed.
Accustomed to being led, the human herd is scared at being left to
itself; it misses its leaders who it has trodden under foot; in
throwing off their trammels it has deprived itself of their
protection. It feels lonely, in an unknown country, exposed to
dangers of which it is ignorant, and against which it is unable to
guard itself. Now that the shepherds are slain or disarmed, suppose
the wolves should unexpectedly appear! - And there are wolves - I
mean vagabonds and criminals - who have but just issued out of the
darkness. They have robbed and burned, and are to be found at every
insurrection. Now that the police force no longer puts them down,
they show themselves instead of keeping themselves concealed. They
have only to lie in wait and come forth in a band, and both life and
property will be at their mercy. - Deep anxiety, a vague feeling of
dread, spreads through both town and country: towards the end of
July the panic, like a blinding, suffocating whirl of dusts,
suddenly sweeps over hundreds of leagues of territory. The brigands
are coming! They are burning the crops! They are only six leagues
off, and then only two - the refugees who have run away from the
disorder prove it.

On the 28th of July, at Angoulême,[11] the alarm bell is heard about