The republicans of Cromwell sought only the way of God, even in the blood of battles. Their politics is nothing but faith; their government, a prayer; their death, a holy hymn;--they sang, like the Templars, on their funeral-pile. We see, we feel, we hear God, above all, in these revolutions, in these great popular movements, and in the souls of the great citizens of these nations. But recross the Atlantic, traverse the Channel, approach our own time, open our annals; and listen to the great political actors in the drama of our liberty. It would seem as if God was hidden from the souls of men; as if his name had never been written in the language. History will have the air of being atheistic, while recounting to posterity these _annihilations_, rather than _deaths_, of the celebrated men of the greatest years of France. The victims alone have a God; the tribunes and lictors have none. See Mirabeau on his death-bed. "Crown me with flowers," said he, "intoxicate me with perfumes, let me die with the sound of delicious music." Not one word of God, or of his soul! A sensual philosopher, he asks of death only a supreme sensualism; he desires to give a last pleasure even to agony. Look at Madam Roland, that strong woman of the Revolution,--upon the car that carries her to death. She looks with scorn upon the stupid People, who kill their prophets and their sibyls. Not one glance to Heaven; only an exclamation for the earth she leaves:--"O, Liberty!" Approach the prison door of the Girondines: their last night is a banquet, and their last hymn is the _Marseillaise_! Follow Camille Desmoulins to punishment:--a cold and indecent pleasantry at the tribunal; one long imprecation on the road to the guillotine;--those are the last thoughts of this dying man, about to appear on high! Listen to Danton, upon the platform of the scaffold, one step from God and immortality:--"I have enjoyed much; let me go to sleep," he says;--then, to the executioner, "You will show my head to the People; it is worth while!" Annihilation for a confession of faith; vanity for his last sigh: such is the Frenchman of these latter days! What do you think of the religious sentiment of a free People, whose great characters seem to walk thus in procession to annihilation; and die, without even death, that terrible minister, recalling to their minds the fear or the promises of God?