ch bears him away with it. He was intoxicated with the
revolutionary vertigo as a man becomes drunken with wine; yet he bore
his intoxication well. He had that superiority of calmness in the
confusion he created, which enabled him to control it: preserving
_sangfroid_ in his excitement and his temper, even in a moment of
passion, he jested with the clubs in their stormiest moods. A burst of
laughter interrupted bitterest imprecations; and he amused the people
even whilst he impelled them to the uttermost pitch of fury. Satisfied
with his two-fold ascendency, he did not care to respect it himself, and
neither spoke to it of principles nor of virtue, but solely of force.
Himself, he adored force, and force only. His sole genius was contempt
for honesty; and he esteemed himself above all the world, because he had
trampled under foot all scruples. Every thing was to him a means. He was
a statesman of materialism, playing the popular game, with no end but
the terrible game itself, with no stake but his life, and with no
responsibility beyond nonentity. Such a man must be profoundly
indifferent either to despotism or to liberty. His contempt of the
people must incline him rather to the side of tyranny. When we can
detect nothing divine in men, the better part to play is to make use of
them. We can only serve well that which we respect. He was only with the
people because he was of the people, and thus the people ought to
triumph. He would have betrayed it, as he served it, unscrupulously. The
court well knew the tariff of his conscience. He threatened it in order
to make it desirous of buying him; he only opened his mouth in order to
have it stuffed with gold. His most revolutionary movements were but the
marked prices at which he was purchaseable. His hand was in every
intrigue, and his honesty was not checked by any offer of corruption. He
was bought daily, and next morning was again for sale. Mirabeau, La
Fayette, Montmorin, M. de Laporte, the intendant of the civil list, the
Duc d'Orleans, the king himself, all knew his price. Money had flowed
with him from all sources, even the most impure, without remaining with
him. Any other individual would have felt shame before men and parties
who had the secret of his dishonour; but he only was not ashamed, and
looked them in the face without a blush. His was the quietude of
vice.[3] He was the focus of all those men who seek in events nothing
but fortune and impunity. But others ha