“This huge insurrectionary movement, which we liken to a breaking out of Tophet and the abyss, has swept away royalty, aristocracy, and a king’s life.  The question is, what will it next do? how will it henceforth shape itself?  Settle down into a reign of law and liberty, according as the habits, persuasions, and endeavours of the educated, monied, respectable class prescribe?  That is to say, the volcanic lava-flood, bursting up in the manner described, will explode, and flow according to Girondine formula and pre-established rule of philosophy?  If so, for our Girondine friends it will be well.

“Meanwhile, were not the prophecy rather, that as no external force, royal or other, now remains which could control this movement, the movement will follow a course of its own—­probably a very original one.  Further, that whatsoever man or men can best interpret the inward tendencies it has, and give them voice and activity, will obtain the lead of it.  For the rest, that, as a thing without order—­a thing proceeding from beyond and beneath the region of order—­it must work and wither, not as a regularity, but as a chaos—­destructive and self-destructive always; till something that has order arise, strong enough to bind it into subjection again; which something, we may further conjecture, will not be a formula, with philosophical propositions and forensic eloquence, but a reality, probably with a sword in its hand!”

But, true as all this may be, Mr Carlyle would be the last man to commend the Girondists had they allowed themselves to be borne along passively by this violent movement:  is it fair dealing, then, that their efforts—­the only efforts they could make—­efforts which cost them life, should be treated as little better than idle pedantries?

But what criticism has to say in praise of this extraordinary work, let it not be said with stint or timidity.  The bold glance at the Revolution, taken from his Diogenes’ station, and the vivid descriptions of its chief scenes, are unrivalled.

That many a page sorely tries the reader’s patience is acknowledged, and we might easily fill column after column with extracts, to show that the style of Mr Carlyle, especially when it is necessary for him to descend to the common track of history, can degenerate into a mannerism scarce tolerable, for which no term of literary censure, would be too severe.  We have, however, no disposition to make any such extracts; and our readers, we are sure, would have little delight in perusing them.  On the other hand, when he does succeed, great is the glory thereof; and we cannot forego the pleasure of making one quotation, however well known the remarkable passages of this work may be, to illustrate the triumphant power which he not unfrequently displays.  Here is a portion of his account of the Taking of the Bastile.  It will be borne in mind, that there is throughout a mixture of the ironical and mock-heroic: