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 towards ’our poorer brethren;’—­those brethren whom one often hears of under the collective name of ‘the masses,’ as if they were not persons at all, but mounds of combustible explosive material, for blowing down Bastilles with!  In very truth, a Revolutionist of this kind, is he not a Solecism?  Disowned by Nature and Art; deserving only to be erased, and disappear!  Surely, to our poorer brethren of Paris, all this Girondin patronage sounds deadening and killing:  if fine-spoken and incontrovertible in logic, then all the falser, all the hatefuller in fact.

Nay doubtless, pleading for Popularity, here among our poorer brethren of Paris, the Girondin has a hard game to play.  If he gain the ear of the Respectable at a distance, it is by insisting on September and such like; it is at the expense of this Paris where he dwells and perorates.  Hard to perorate in such an auditory!  Wherefore the question arises:  Could we not get ourselves out of this Paris?  Twice or oftener such an attempt is made.  If not we ourselves, thinks Guadet, then at least our Suppleans might do it.  For every Deputy has his Suppleant, or Substitute, who will take his place if need be:  might not these assemble, say at Bourges, which is a quiet episcopal Town, in quiet Berri, forty good leagues off?  In that case, what profit were it for the Paris Sansculottery to insult us; our Suppleans sitting quiet in Bourges, to whom we could run?  Nay even the Primary electoral Assemblies, thinks Guadet, might be reconvoked, and a New Convention got, with new orders from the Sovereign people; and right glad were Lyons, were Bourdeaux, Rouen, Marseilles, as yet Provincial Towns, to welcome us in their turn, and become a sort of Capital Towns; and teach these Parisians reason.