political, not a social, event. For Furet, "the legacy of the terror poisoned all subsequent revolutionary history." For Schama, the terror was the revolution. It was the source of its energy, and all attempts to write about the revolution as though the terror was incidental to it have failed to understand what the revolution was about. More significant, he proposed that the terror was the first example of modern totalitarianism. Neither Furet nor Schama, then, believe that the legacy of the revolution is modern democracy and republicanism, as reiterated in countless republican histories and celebrated during the revolution's 1889 centennial. Nor do they believe that its legacy lies in the revolution's promise of an egalitarian society, heralded in the long-accepted but now rejected Marxist accounts produced by Georges Lefebvre, Albert Soboul, and Claude Mazauric. As a consequence, labor history played almost no role in these discussions. As Donald Sutherland argued, the old orthodoxy based on class struggle seems to have declined with the collapse of communism. This may be a positive develop ment if it forces us as historians of the working class to reexamine what we mean by democracy and to pay attention to its limitations in most of modern history. It would be a positive development if we heeded Patrice Higonnet's advice and began to consider the work of feminist scholars of the French Revolution, including that published by Joan Landes, Dorinda Outram, and Lynn Hunt. As Higonnet explained, these historians have examined the process by which misogynist redefinitions of masculine and feminine identity denied women access to the "natural" rights extended to men. Unfortunately, Hunt and Higonnet were the only voices for women present in the many sessions on the revolution. And only the Australians, Peter McPhee and Alison Patrick, seemed to think it was necessary to reiterate the idea that the French Revolution had an important impact on the lives of common people.