d his voice was not the assured voice of a leader. His words were
not the happy words which instantly command attention. It was evident
to the discerning eye that he had been driven for days, perhaps for
weeks, beyond his strength and endurance; that he had resorted to
stimulants to help him in this emergency, and that they had failed;
that he was striving with feeble desperation to do the impossible
which was expected of him. I wondered even then if a few common words
of explanation, a few sober words of promise, would not have
satisfied the crowd, already sated with eloquence. I wondered if the
unfortunate man could feel the chill settling down upon the house
as he spoke his random and undignified sentences, whether he could
see the first stragglers slipping down the aisles. What did his
decent record, his honest purpose, avail him in an hour like this?
He tried to lash himself to vigour, but it was spurring a
broken-winded horse. The stragglers increased into a flying squadron,
the house was emptying fast, when the chairman in sheer desperation
made a sign to the leader of the orchestra, who waved his baton, and
"The Star-Spangled Banner" drowned the candidate's last words, and
brought what was left of the audience to its feet. I turned to a friend
beside me, the wife of a local politician who had been the most fiery
speaker of the evening. "Will it make any difference?" I asked, and
she answered disconsolately; "The city is lost, but we may save the
state."

Then we went out into the quiet streets, and I bethought me of
Voltaire's driving in a blue coach powdered with gilt stars to see
the first production of "Irene," and of his leaving the theatre to
find that enthusiasts had cut the traces of his horses, so that the
shouting mob might drag him home in triumph. But the mob, having done
its shouting, melted away after the irresponsible fashion of mobs,
leaving the blue coach stranded in front of the Tuileries, with
Voltaire shivering inside of it, until the horses could be brought
back, the traces patched up, and the driver recalled to his duty.

That "popular enthusiasm is but a fire of straw" has been amply
demonstrated by all who have tried to keep it going. It can be lighted
to some purpose, as when money is extracted from the enthusiasts
before they have had time to cool; but even this process--so
skilfully conducted by the initiated--seems unworthy of great and
noble charities, or of great and noble causes.