Alone of men, Mirabeau may begin to discern clearly whither all this is tending.  Patriotism, accordingly, regrets that his zeal seems to be getting cool.  A man stout of heart, enigmatic, difficult to unmask!  Meanwhile, finances give trouble enough.  To appease the deficit we venture on a hazardous step, sale of the clergy’s lands; a paper-money of assignats, bonds secured on that property is decreed; and young Sansculottism thrives bravely, growing by hunger.  Great and greater waxes President Danton in his Cordeliers section.  This man also, like Mirabeau, has a natural eye.

And with the whole world forming itself into clubs, there is one club growing ever stronger, till it becomes immeasurably strong; which, having leased for itself the hall of the Jacobins’ Convent, shall, under the title of the Jacobins’ Club, become memorable to all times and lands; has become the mother society, with 300 shrill-tongued daughters in direct correspondence with her, has also already thrown off the mother club of the Cordeliers and the monarchist Feuillans.

In the midst of which a hopeful France on a sudden renews with enthusiasm the national oath; of loyalty to the king, the law, the constitution which the National Assembly shall make; in Paris, repeated in every town and district of France!  Freedom by social contract; such was verily the gospel of that era.

From which springs a new idea:  “Why all France has not one federation and universal oath of brotherhood once for all?” other places than Paris having first set example or federation.  The place for it, Paris; the scene to be worthy of it.  Fifteen thousand men are at work on the Champs de Mars, hollowing it out into a national amphitheatre.  One may hope it will be annual and perennial; a feast of pikes, notable among the high tides of the year!

Workmen being lazy, all Paris turns out to complete the preparations, her daughters with the rest.  From all points of the compass federates are arriving.  On July 13, 1790, 200,000 patriotic men and 100,000 patriotic women sit waiting in the Champs de Mars.  The generalissimo swears in the name of armed France; the National Assembly swears; the king swears; be the welkin split with vivats!  And the feast of pikes dances itself off and becomes defunct.

IV.—­The End of Mirabeau

Of journals there are now some 133; among which, Marat, the People’s Friend, unseen, croaks harsh thunder.  Clubbism thrives and spreads, the Mother of Patriotism, sitting in the Jacobins, shining supreme over all.  The pure patriots now, sitting on the extreme tip of the left, count only some thirty, Mirabeau not among the chosen; a virtuous Petion; an incorruptible Robespierre; conspicuous, if seldom audible, Philippe d’Orleans; and Barnave triumvirate.