As to the National Assembly, in so far as it still towers eminent over France, after the manner of a car-borne Carroccio, though now no longer in the van; and rings signals for retreat or for advance,—­it is and continues a reality among other realities.  But in so far as it sits making the Constitution, on the other hand, it is a fatuity and chimera mainly.  Alas, in the never so heroic building of Montesquieu-Mably card-castles, though shouted over by the world, what interest is there?  Occupied in that way, an august National Assembly becomes for us little other than a Sanhedrim of pedants, not of the gerund-grinding, yet of no fruitfuller sort; and its loud debatings and recriminations about Rights of Man, Right of Peace and War, Veto suspensif, Veto absolu, what are they but so many Pedant’s-curses, ’May God confound you for your Theory of Irregular Verbs!’

A Constitution can be built, Constitutions enough a la Sieyes:  but the frightful difficulty is that of getting men to come and live in them!  Could Sieyes have drawn thunder and lightning out of Heaven to sanction his Constitution, it had been well:  but without any thunder?  Nay, strictly considered, is it not still true that without some such celestial sanction, given visibly in thunder or invisibly otherwise, no Constitution can in the long run be worth much more than the waste-paper it is written on?  The Constitution, the set of Laws, or prescribed Habits of Acting, that men will live under, is the one which images their Convictions,—­their Faith as to this wondrous Universe, and what rights, duties, capabilities they have there; which stands sanctioned therefore, by Necessity itself, if not by a seen Deity, then by an unseen one.  Other laws, whereof there are always enough ready-made, are usurpations; which men do not obey, but rebel against, and abolish, by their earliest convenience.

The question of questions accordingly were, Who is it that especially for rebellers and abolishers, can make a Constitution?  He that can image forth the general Belief when there is one; that can impart one when, as here, there is none.  A most rare man; ever as of old a god-missioned man!  Here, however, in defect of such transcendent supreme man, Time with its infinite succession of merely superior men, each yielding his little contribution, does much.  Force likewise (for, as Antiquarian Philosophers teach, the royal Sceptre was from the first something of a Hammer, to crack such heads as could not be convinced) will all along find somewhat to do.  And thus in perpetual abolition and reparation, rending and mending, with struggle and strife, with present evil and the hope and effort towards future good, must the Constitution, as all human things do, build itself forward; or unbuild itself, and sink, as it can and may.  O Sieyes, and ye other Committeemen, and Twelve Hundred miscellaneous individuals from all parts of France!  What is the Belief of France, and yours, if ye knew it?  Properly that there shall be no Belief; that all formulas be swallowed.  The Constitution which will suit that?  Alas, too clearly, a No-Constitution, an Anarchy;—­which also, in due season, shall be vouchsafed you.