violent instincts, his expansiveness, creativeness and activity, all rebel against this life: he is ill-suited for the quiet routine of our civil careers. It is not the steady discipline of an old society, but the tumultuous brutality of a society going to pieces or in a state of formation, that suits him. In temperament and character he is a barbarian, and a barbarian born to command his fellow-creatures, like this or that vassal of the sixth century or baron of the tenth century. A giant with the face of a "Tartar," pitted with the small-pox, tragically and terribly ugly, with a mask convulsed like that of a growling "bull-dog,"[3157] with small, cavernous, restless eyes buried under the huge wrinkles of a threatening brow, with a thundering voice and moving and acting like a combatant, full-blooded, boiling over with passion and energy. His strength in its outbursts appears boundless like a force of nature, when speaking he is roaring like a bull and be heard through closed windows fifty yards off in the street, employing immoderate imagery, intensely in earnest, trembling with indignation, revenge and patriotic sentiments, able to arouse savage instincts in the most tranquil breast and generous instincts in the most brutal personalities.[3158] He may be profane, using emphatic terms,[3159] cynical, but not monotonous and affected like Hébert, but spontaneous and to the point, full of crude jests worthy of Rabelais, possessing a stock of jovial sensuality and good-humor, cordial and familiar in his ways, frank, friendly in tone. He is, both outwardly and inwardly, the best fitted for winning the confidence and sympathy of a Gallic, Parisian populace. His talents all contribute to "his inborn, practical popularity," and to make of him "a grand-seignior of sans-cullotterie."[3160]--With such talents for acting, there is a strong temptation to act it out the moment the theatre is ready, whatever the theatre, even unlawful and murky, whatever the actors rogues, scoundrels and loose women, whatever the part, ignoble, murderous, and finally fatal to him who undertakes it.--To hold out against such temptation, would require a sentiment of repugnance which a refined or thorough culture develops in both sense and mind, but which was completely wanting in Danton. Nothing disgusts him physically or morally: he embraces Marat,[3161] fraternizes with drunkards, congratulates the Septembriseurs, retorts in blackguard terms to the insults of prostitutes, treats reprobates, thieves and jail-birds as equals,--Carra, Westermann, Huguenin, Rossignol and the confirmed scoundrels whom he sends into the departments after the 2nd of September.