There can be no question that at this time Robespierre was tired of the slaughter, and longed for a reaction and for the establishment of a government other than by committee. "Robespierre perished," says Lavasseur de la Sarthe, "at the very moment when he was preparing to return to a system of justice and humanity." Napoleon told O'Meara that he had seen letters written by Robespierre to his brother, who was the national representative with the army at Nice, in which he clearly stated that it was his determination to end the "Reign of Terror."

About this time Robespierre received a deputation from the department of Aisne, which complained of the operations of the government and chided him for absenting himself from the public sittings of the Convention. "The Convention," he replied, "gangreened as it is with corruption, has no longer the power to save the Republic. Both will perish. The proscription of the patriots is the order of the day." Such language aroused the anger and suspicion of his enemies and put on guard so wily, subtle, and desperate an antagonist as Billaud-Varennes.

During this period, when Robespierre should have displayed the greatest vigor, he sought seclusion for hours at a time in the forest of Meudon or under the trees of St. Cloud, wandering about with book in hand, meditating, doubtless, upon that government he had formed in his mind: a republic in which God was to be revered, where virtue was to be practised, that would provide universal education and an open

franchise, that would impose just taxation, and would guarantee equality before the law.

Nature was unkind when she instilled ideals so lofty into the mind of a man whose ability was not equal to the task of carrying them into effect. If it was his purpose to make an effort to secure these blessings and privileges for his country, he could not afford to be moping through the woods.

For hours, too, he would remain in his room immersed in study, keeping in touch with the outer world through the medium of his confidential friends, Couthon and St. Just. He seemed possessed of a spirit of irresolution. Fearing to be left behind, he yet did not know how to keep up in the race.

A languor like that which overcame Danton was paralyzing his energy. His friends appealed to him to come out of his lethargy. Couthon urged him to act. St. Just tried to instil into his master the enthusiasm of his own spirit. "Strike quietly and strongly," he said. "Dare! that is the secret of revolutions."

Out of the past came the words of Danton ringing in his ears: "A nation in revolution is like the bronze boiling and foaming and purifying itself in the cauldron. Not yet is the statue of Liberty cast. Fiercely boils the metal; have an eye on the furnace or the flame will surely scorch you."

CHAPTER XXIX

ROBESPIERRE'S LAST SPEECH IN THE CONVENTION

To meet the conditions, Robespierre, instead of organizing his forces and making ready for battle, spent his time in composing a long speech. It was written with even more than his usual care. During its preparation, for the sake of inspiration no doubt, he visited Ermenonville to meditate at the tomb of his master, Jean Jacques Rousseau.

When he delivered his oration in the Convention he was given the closest attention, but unfortunately, in the course of his remarks, he reflected upon Cambon, a worthy and reliable man, who demanded an immediate retraction of the offensive utterances. Realizing at once that he had committed an error, Robespierre endeavored to make amends by a half-hearted, halting apology; but he only made matters worse by his mangled explanation. He committed a further mistake by plainly intimating that there were a number of men proscribed who would soon be called to the bar to answer for their crimes. This was worse even than naming them outright, for it left every man in the Convention uncertain as to his fate. He threatened without