La Fayette had been decided, if Robespierre had been humane, the Revolution would have progressed, majestic and calm as a heavenly thought, through France, and thence through Europe; it would have been installed like a philosophy in facts, in laws, and in creeds.  But it was otherwise decreed.  The holiest most just and virtuous thought, when it passes through the medium of imperfect humanity, comes out in rags and in blood.  Those very persons who conceived it, no longer recognise, disavow it.  Yet it is not permitted, even to crime, to degrade the truth, that survives all, even its victims.  The blood which sullies men does not stain its idea; and despite the selfishness which debases it, the infamies which trammel it, the crimes which pollute it, the blood-stained Revolution purifies itself, feels its own worth, triumphs, and will triumph.

BOOK II.

I.

The National Assembly, wearied with two years of existence, relaxed in its legislative movement:  from the moment when it had nothing more to destroy, it really was at a loss what to do.  The Jacobins took umbrage at it, its popularity was disappearing, the press inveighed against it, the clubs insulted it; the worn-out tool by which the people had acquired conquest, it felt the people were about to snap it asunder if it did not dissolve of its own accord.  Its sittings were inanimate, and it was completing the constitution as a task inflicted on it, but at which it was discouraged before completion.  It had no belief in the duration of that which it proclaimed imperishable.  The lofty voices which had shaken France so long were now no more, or were silent from indifference.  Maury, Cazales, Clermont Tonnerre seemed careless of continuing a conflict in which honour was saved, and in which victory was henceforth impossible.  From time to time, indeed, some burst of passion between parties interrupted the usual monotony of these theoretical discussions.  Such was the struggle of the 10th of June between Cazales and Robespierre with respect to the disbanding the officers of the army.  “What is it,” exclaimed Robespierre, “that the committees propose to us? to trust to the oaths, to the honour of officers, to defend a constitution which they detest! of what honour do they talk to us?  What is that honour more than virtue and love of country?  I take credit to myself for not believing in such honour.”

Cazales himself arose indignantly.  “I could not listen tamely to such calumniating language,” he exclaimed.  At these words violent murmurs arose on the left, and cries (order! to the Abbaye! to the Abbaye!) burst forth from the ranks of the revolution:  “What,” said the royalist orator, “is it not enough to have restrained my indignation on hearing two thousand citizens thus accused, who in all moments of peril have presented an example of most heroic patience!  I have listened