To this must be added that the quality of the factious is still more reduced than their number. Plenty of honest men， small tradesmen， wine dealers， cook-shop keepers， clerks， who， on the 10th of August， were against the Court， are now against the Commune.[85] The September affair， probably， disgusted them， and they were not disposed to recommence the massacres. A workman named Gonchon， for example， the usual spokesman of the faubourg SaintAntoine， an upright man， sincere and disinterested， supports Roland， and， very soon， at Lyons， seeing how things are with his own eyes， he is to loyally endorse the revolt of the moderates against the Maratists.[86] "The respectable class of the arts， says observers， " is gradually leaving the faction to join the sane party."[87] "Now that water-carriers， porters and the like storm the loudest in the sections， it is plain to all eyes that the gangrene of disgust has reached the fruit-sellers， tailors， shoe-makers， bar owners，" and others of that class.[88] -- Towards the end， "butchers of both classes， high and low， are aristocratized." --In the same way， "the women in the markets， except a few who are paid and whose husbands are Jacobins， curse and swear， fume， fret and storm." "This morning，" says a merchant， "four or five of them were here； they no longer insist on being called citoyennes； they declare that they "spit on the republic."[89] - The only remaining patriot females are from the lowest of the low class， the harpies who pillage shops as much through envy as through necessity， "boat-women， embittered by hard labor，[90] . . . jealous of the grocer's wife， better dressed than herself， as the latter was of the wives of the attorney and counselor， as these were of those of the financier and noble. The woman of the people thinks she cannot do too much to lower the grocer's wife to her own level."Thus reduced to its dregs through the withdrawal of its tolerably honest recruits， the faction now comprises none but the scum of the populace， first， "subordinate workmen who look upon the downfall of their employers with a certain satisfaction，" then， the small retailers， the old-clothes dealers， plasterers， "those who offer second-hand coats for sale on the fringes of the market， fourth-rate cooks who， at the cemetery of the Innocents， sell meat and beans under umbrella tops，"[91] next， domestics highly pleased with now being masters of their masters， kitchen helpers， grooms， lackeys， janitors， every species of valet， who， in contempt of the law， voted at the elections[92] and at the Jacobin club form a group of "silly people"satisfied "that they were universal geographers because they had ridden post once or twice，" and that they were politicians "because they had read 'The Four Sons of Aymon.'"[93] -- But， in this mud， spouting and spreading around in broad daylight， it is the ordinary scum of great cities which forms the grossest flux， the outcasts of every trade and profession， dissipated workmen of all kinds， the irregular and marauding troops of the social army， the class which， "discharged from La Pitié， run through a career of disorder and end in Bicêtre."[94] "From La Pitié to Bicêtre" is a well known popular adage. Men of this stamp are without any principle whatever. If they have fifty francs they live on fifty， and if they have only five they live on five； spending everything， they are always out of pocket and save nothing. This is the class that took the Bastille，[95] got up the 10th of August， etc. It is the same class which filled the galleries in the Assembly with all sorts of characters， filling up the groups，"and， during all this time it never did a stroke of work. Consequently， "a wife who owns a watch， ear-rings， finger-rings， any jewels， first takes them to the pawnbrokers where they end up being sold. At this period many of these people owe the butcher， the baker， the wine-dealer， etc.； nobody trusts them any more. They have ceased to love their wives， and their children cry for food， while the father is at the Jacobin club or at the Tuileries. Many of them have abandoned their position and trade，" while， either through "indolence" or consciousness "of their incapacity，" . . . "they would with a kind of sadness see this trade come back to life." That of a political gossip， of a paid claqueur， is more agreeable， and such is the opinion of all the idlers， summoned by the bugle to work on the camps around Paris. -- Here，[96] eight thousand men are paid forty sous a day "to do nothing"； "the workmen come along at eight， nine and ten o'clock in the morning. If they remain after roll-call . . . they merely trundle about a few wheelbarrow loads of dirt. Others play cards all day， and most of them leave at three or four o'clock， after dinner. On asking the inspectors about this they reply that they are not strong enough to enforce discipline， and are not disposed to have their throats slit." Whereupon， on the Convention decreeing piece-work， the pretended workers fall back on their equality， remind it that they had risen on the 10th of August， and wish to massacre the commissioners.
It is not until the 2nd of November that they are finally dismissed with an allowance of three sous per league mileage for those of the departments. Enough， however， remain in Paris to increase immeasurably the troop of drones which， accustomed to consuming the store of honey， think they have a right to be paid by the public for buzzing around the State.