any man of
that generation. The weapons of the Mountain are those of mere nature:
Audacity and Impetuosity which may become Ferocity, as of men complete
in their determination, in their conviction; nay of men, in some cases,
who as Septemberers must either prevail or perish. The ground to be
fought for is Popularity: further you may either seek Popularity with
the friends of Freedom and Order, or with the friends of Freedom Simple;
to seek it with both has unhappily become impossible. With the former
sort, and generally with the Authorities of the Departments, and such
as read Parliamentary Debates, and are of Respectability, and of a
peace-loving monied nature, the Girondins carry it. With the extreme
Patriot again, with the indigent millions, especially with the
Population of Paris who do not read so much as hear and see, the
Girondins altogether lose it, and the Mountain carries it.

Egoism, nor meanness of mind, is not wanting on either side. Surely not
on the Girondin side; where in fact the instinct of self-preservation,
too prominently unfolded by circumstances, cuts almost a sorry figure;
where also a certain finesse, to the length even of shuffling
and shamming, now and then shews itself. They are men skilful in
Advocate-fence. They have been called the Jesuits of the Revolution;
(Dumouriez, Memoires, iii. 314.) but that is too hard a name. It must be
owned likewise that this rude blustering Mountain has a sense in it of
what the Revolution means; which these eloquent Girondins are totally
void of. Was the Revolution made, and fought for, against the world,
these four weary years, that a Formula might be substantiated; that
Society might become methodic, demonstrable by logic; and the old
Noblesse with their pretensions vanish? Or ought it not withal to bring
some glimmering of light and alleviation to the Twenty-five Millions,
who sat in darkness, heavy-laden, till they rose with pikes in their
hands? At least and lowest, one would think, it should bring them a
proportion of bread to live on? There is in the Mountain here and there;
in Marat People's-friend; in the incorruptible Seagreen himself, though
otherwise so lean and formularly, a heartfelt knowledge of this latter
fact;--without which knowledge all other knowledge here is naught, and
the choicest forensic eloquence is as sounding brass and a tinkling
cymbal. Most cold, on the other hand, most patronising, unsubstantial is
the tone of the Girondins to