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 fiercely with Fate and with one another; struggling their lives
out, as most sons of Adam do, for that which profiteth not. Nay, on
the whole, it is admitted further to be very dull. "Dull as this day's
Assembly," said some one. "Why date, Pourquoi dater?" answered Mirabeau.

Consider that they are Twelve Hundred; that they not only speak, but
read their speeches; and even borrow and steal speeches to read! With
Twelve Hundred fluent speakers, and their Noah's Deluge of vociferous
commonplace, unattainable silence may well seem the one blessing of
Life. But figure Twelve Hundred pamphleteers; droning forth perpetual
pamphlets: and no man to gag them! Neither, as in the American Congress,
do the arrangements seem perfect. A Senator has not his own Desk
and Newspaper here; of Tobacco (much less of Pipes) there is not the
slightest provision. Conversation itself must be transacted in a low
tone, with continual interruption: only 'pencil Notes' circulate freely;
'in incredible numbers to the foot of the very tribune.' (See Dumont
(pp. 159-67); Arthur Young, &c.)--Such work is it, regenerating a