Let us now retrace our steps a little, and throw a glance at that terrible day, the 17th of July—day of the Champs de Mars—day of the red flag, which in 1848, furnished to M. de Lamartine, one of his most wonderful oratorical efforts. CHAPTER XL. THE TIDE RISES. The Queen was right in not viewing events in the same light as those who surrounded her. Firstly, the struggle was between the Assembly and the Court. The Assembly won the day. Then it was between the Constitutionals and the Aristocrats. The Constitutionals won the day. Now it was to be between the Constitutionals and the Republicans. It is true that the Republicans had only just begun to appear, but in their first birth they formed this terrible principle—_No more monarchy!_ You will remember that the commissioners had been appointed by the Assembly to examine Louis XVI. These three declared, in the name of their seven committees, that they had found no reason to put Louis XVI on his trial. The Assembly took the opinion of the commissioners, but the Jacobin Club refused its sanction to the Assembly. The Assembly had then above it a high chamber, which could annihilate its decisions with its veto. In order to understand the situation and the events about to take place, it is necessary to say that at this juncture there were opposed to each other, three distinct parties. The Royalists who wished the King absolute—that is to say, without the Constitution; the Constitutionals, who wished the King with a Constitution; and the Republicans, who wished neither King nor Constitution, but a republic. The Assembly, as we have said, voted that there was no necessity to put the King on trial. But, through concession to the public feeling, it had voted two measures—one preventive, the other repressive. This was the repressive measure. “That Bouillé, and all servants, officers, couriers, and accomplices in the flight, should be prosecuted.” This was the preventive measure:— “That if a king breaks his oath, or attacks, or does not defend, his people, he shall be cast from his throne, become a simple citizen, and be tried for the offences committed previous to his degradation.” The repressive measure was one of those timid ones proper to a decayed Assembly, which feels that its power is crumbling away. During some days, or, rather, nights, the Jacobin sitting became stormy. During the sitting, in which the true culprit—that is to say, the King—was left alone, in order to arrest and punish the minor offenders—that is to say, Bouillé, Fersen, the gardes du corps, and Madame de Tourzel,—M. Robespierre asked in vain to have the report distributed, and the discussion adjourned. As it was known in advance that the discussion would be stormy, Robespierre went to the club. He had been accused, at the Assembly, of republicanism, and—mark this well,—on the 13th of July 1791, Robespierre did not disdain to again avow himself a Republican.