own and seen
is, that his moon-visage does beam forth from that point of space. There
likewise sits seagreen Robespierre; throwing in his light weight, with
decision, not yet with effect. A thin lean Puritan and Precisian; he
would make away with formulas; yet lives, moves, and has his being,
wholly in formulas, of another sort. 'Peuple,' such according to
Robespierre ought to be the Royal method of promulgating laws, 'Peuple,
this is the Law I have framed for thee; dost thou accept it?'--answered
from Right Side, from Centre and Left, by inextinguishable laughter.
(Moniteur, No. 67 (in Hist.Parl.).) Yet men of insight discern that the
Seagreen may by chance go far: "this man," observes Mirabeau, "will do
somewhat; he believes every word he says."

Abbe Sieyes is busy with mere Constitutional work: wherein, unluckily,
fellow-workmen are less pliable than, with one who has completed the
Science of Polity, they ought to be. Courage, Sieyes nevertheless! Some
twenty months of heroic travail, of contradiction from the stupid, and
the Constitution shall be built; the top-stone of it brought out with
shouting,--say rather, the top-paper, for it is all Paper; and thou hast
done in it what the Earth or the Heaven could require, thy utmost. Note
likewise this Trio; memorable for several things; memorable were it only
that their history is written in an epigram: 'whatsoever these Three
have in hand,' it is said, 'Duport thinks it, Barnave speaks it, Lameth
does it.' (See Toulongeon, i. c. 3.)

But royal Mirabeau? Conspicuous among all parties, raised above and
beyond them all, this man rises more and more. As we often say, he has
an eye, he is a reality; while others are formulas and eye-glasses. In
the Transient he will detect the Perennial, find some firm footing even
among Paper-vortexes. His fame is gone forth to all lands; it gladdened
the heart of the crabbed old Friend of Men himself before he died.
The very Postilions of inns have heard of Mirabeau: when an impatient
Traveller complains that the team is insufficient, his Postilion
answers, "Yes, Monsieur, the wheelers are weak; but my mirabeau (main
horse), you see, is a right one, mais mon mirabeau est excellent."
(Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 255.)

And now, Reader, thou shalt quit this noisy Discrepancy of a National
Assembly; not (if thou be of humane mind) without pity. Twelve Hundred
brother men are there, in the centre of Twenty-five Millions; fighting
so