How little did any one suppose that here was the end not of Robespierre only, but of the Revolution System itself!  Least of all did the mutinying Committee-men suppose it; who had mutinied with no view whatever except to continue the National Regeneration with their own heads on their shoulders.  And yet so it verily was.  The insignificant stone they had struck out, so insignificant anywhere else, proved to be the Keystone:  the whole arch-work and edifice of Sansculottism began to loosen, to crack, to yawn; and tumbled, piecemeal, with considerable rapidity, plunge after plunge; till the Abyss had swallowed it all, and in this upper world Sansculottism was no more.

For despicable as Robespierre himself might be, the death of Robespierre was a signal at which great multitudes of men, struck dumb with terror heretofore, rose out of their hiding places:  and, as it were, saw one another, how multitudinous they were; and began speaking and complaining.  They are countable by the thousand and the million; who have suffered cruel wrong.  Ever louder rises the plaint of such a multitude; into a universal sound, into a universal continuous peal, of what they call Public Opinion.  Camille had demanded a ’Committee of Mercy,’ and could not get it; but now the whole nation resolves itself into a Committee of Mercy:  the Nation has tried Sansculottism, and is weary of it.  Force of Public Opinion!  What King or Convention can withstand it?  You in vain struggle:  the thing that is rejected as ‘calumnious’ to-day must pass as veracious with triumph another day:  gods and men have declared that Sansculottism cannot be.  Sansculottism, on that Ninth night of Thermidor suicidally ‘fractured its under jaw;’ and lies writhing, never to rise more.

Through the next fifteenth months, it is what we may call the death-agony of Sansculottism.  Sansculottism, Anarchy of the Jean-Jacques Evangel, having now got deep enough, is to perish in a new singular system of Culottism and Arrangement.  For Arrangement is indispensable to man; Arrangement, were it grounded only on that old primary Evangel of Force, with Sceptre in the shape of Hammer.  Be there method, be there order, cry all men; were it that of the Drill-serjeant!  More tolerable is the drilled Bayonet-rank, than that undrilled Guillotine, incalculable as the wind.—­How Sansculottism, writhing in death-throes, strove some twice, or even three times, to get on its feet again; but fell always, and was flung resupine, the next instant; and finally breathed out the life of it, and stirred no more:  this we are now, from a due distance, with due brevity, to glance at; and then—­O Reader!—­Courage, I see land!