VII.

Louvet, one of the friends of Brissot, felt their power, and mounted the tribune in order to move the man who alone arrested the progress of the Gironde.  “Robespierre,” said he, apostrophising him directly; “Robespierre—­you alone keep the public mind in suspense—­doubtless this excess of glory was reserved for you.  Your speeches belong to posterity, and posterity will come to judge between you and me.  But you Will mar a great responsibility by persisting in your opinions; you are accountable to your contemporaries, and even to future generations—­yes, posterity will judge between us, unworthy as I may be of it.  It will say, a man appeared in the Constituent Assembly—­inaccessible to all passions, one of the most faithful defenders of the people—­it was impossible not to esteem and cherish his virtues—­not to admire his courage—­he was adored by the people, whom he had constantly served, and he was worthy of it.  A precipice opens.  Fatigued by too much labour, this man imagined he saw peril where there was none, and did not see it where it really was.  A man of no note was present, entirely occupied with the present moment, aided by other citizens, he perceived the danger, and could not remain silent.  He went to Robespierre, and sought to make him touch it with his finger.  Robespierre turned away his eyes, and withdrew his hand, the stranger persisted, and saved his country.”

Robespierre smiled with disdain and incredulity at these words.  The suppliant gestures of Louvet, and the adjurations of the tribunes found-him the next morning firm and unmoved.  Brissot resumed the debate on war;—­“I implore Monsieur Robespierre,” said he, in conclusion, “to terminate so unworthy a struggle, which profits alone the enemies of the public welfare.”  “My surprise was extreme,” cried Robespierre, “at seeing this morning, in the journal edited by M. Brissot, the most pompous eulogium on M. de La Fayette.”  “I declare,” replied Brissot, “that I am utterly ignorant of the insertion of this letter in ’Le Patriots Francais.’” “So much the better,” returned Robespierre.  “I am delighted to find that M. Brissot is not a party to any such apologies.”  Their words became as bitter as their hearts, and hate became more perceptible at every reply.  The aged Dusaulx interfered, made a touching appeal to the patriots, and entreated them to embrace.  They complied.  “I have now fulfilled a duty of fraternity, and satisfied my heart,” cried Robespierre.  “I have yet a more sacred debt to pay my country.  All personal regard must give place to the sacred interests of liberty and humanity.  I can easily reconcile them here with the regard and respect I have promised to those who serve them; I have embraced M. Brissot, but I persist in opposing him:  let our peace repose only on the basis of patriotism and virtue.”  Robespierre, by his very isolation, proved his force, and obtained fresh influence over