done? The thing to be done was, actually as they said, to regenerate
France; to abolish the old France, and make a new one; quietly or
forcibly, by concession or by violence, this, by the Law of Nature, has
become inevitable. With what degree of violence, depends on the wisdom
of those that preside over it. With perfect wisdom on the part of the
National Assembly, it had all been otherwise; but whether, in any wise,
it could have been pacific, nay other than bloody and convulsive, may
still be a question.

Grant, meanwhile, that this Constituent Assembly does to the last
continue to be something. With a sigh, it sees itself incessantly
forced away from its infinite divine task, of perfecting 'the Theory of
Irregular Verbs,'--to finite terrestrial tasks, which latter have still
a significance for us. It is the cynosure of revolutionary France, this
National Assembly. All work of Government has fallen into its hands,
or under its control; all men look to it for guidance. In the middle
of that huge Revolt of Twenty-five millions, it hovers always aloft
as Carroccio or Battle-Standard, impelling and impelled, in the most
confused way; if it cannot give much guidance, it will still seem to
give some. It emits pacificatory Proclamations, not a few; with more or
with less result. It authorises the enrolment of National Guards,--lest
Brigands come to devour us, and reap the unripe crops. It sends missions
to quell 'effervescences;' to deliver men from the Lanterne. It can
listen to congratulatory Addresses, which arrive daily by the sackful;
mostly in King Cambyses' vein: also to Petitions and complaints from all
mortals; so that every mortal's complaint, if it cannot get redressed,
may at least hear itself complain. For the rest, an august National
Assembly can produce Parliamentary Eloquence; and appoint Committees.
Committees of the Constitution, of Reports, of Researches; and of much
else: which again yield mountains of Printed Paper; the theme of new