No man was ever less trammeled by a conscience； in truth， he has several， that of two days ago， that of the previous day， that of the present day， that of the morrow， of the following day， and still others， as many as you like， all equally pliant and supple， at the service of the strongest against the weakest， ready to swing round at once on the wind changing， but all joined together and working to one common end through physical instinct， the only one that lasts in the immoral， adroit and volatile being who circulates nimbly about， with no other aim than self-preservation， and to amuse himself.[76] - In his dressing-gown， early in the morning， he receives a crowd of solicitors， and， with the ways of a "dandified minister，" graciously accepts the petitions handed to him； first， those of ladies， "distributing gallantries among the prettiest；" he makes promises， and smiles， and then， returning to his cabinet， throws the papers in the fire： "There，" he says， my correspondence is done." - He sups twice every decade in his fine house at Clichy， along with three more than accommodating pretty women； he is gay， awarding flatteries and attentions quite becoming to an amiable protector： he enters into their professional rivalries， their spites against the reigning beauty， their jealousy of another who wears a blonde wig and pretends "to set the fashion." He sends immediately for the National Agent and gravely informs him that this head-dress， borrowed from the guillotined， is a rallying point for anti-revolutionaries， whereupon， the next day， wigs are denounced at the Commune-council， and suppressed； "Barère roared with laughter on alluding to this piece of fun." The humor of an undertaker and the dexterity of a commercial drummer： he plays with Terror. - In like manner he plays with his reports， and at this latter exercise， he improvises； he is never embarrassed； it is simply necessary to turn the faucet and the water runs. " Had he any subject to treat， he would fasten himself on Robespierre， Hérault， Saint-Just， or somebody else， and draw them out；he would then rush off to the tribune and spin out their ideas； "they were all astonished at hearing their thoughts expressed as fully as if reflected in a mirror." No individual on the Committee， or in the Convention， equaled him in promptness and fluency， for the reason that he was not obliged to think before he spoke： with him， the faculty of speaking， like an independent organ， acted by itself， the empty brain or indifferent heart contributing nothing to his loquacity.
Naturally， whatever issues from his mouth comes forth in ready-made bombast， the current jargon of the Jacobin club， sonorous， nauseous commonplace， schoolboy metaphors and similes derived from the shambles.[77] Not an idea is found in all this rhetoric， nothing acquired， no real mental application. When Bonaparte， who employed everybody， even Fouché， were disposed to employ Barère， they could make nothing out of him for lack of substance， except as a low newsmonger， common spy， or agent engaged to stir up surviving Jacobins； later on， a listener at keyholes， and a paid weekly collector of public rumors， he was not even fit for this vile service， for his wages were soon stopped Napoleon， who， having no time to waste， cut short his driveling verbiage. - It is this verbiage which， authorized by the Committee of Public Safety， now forms the eloquence of France； it is this manufacturer of phrases by the dozen， this future informer and prison-spy under the empire， this frolicking inventor of the blonde-wig conspiracy， that the government sends into the tribune to announce victories， trumpet forth military heroism and proclaim war unto death. On the 7th of Prairial，[78] Barère， in the name of the committee， proposes a return to savage law ： "No English or Hanoverian prisoner shall henceforth be made；" the decree is endorsed by Carnot and passes the Convention unanimously. Had it been executed， as reprisals， and according to the proportion of prisoners， there would have been for one Englishman shot， three Frenchmen hung：
honor and humanity would have disappeared from the camps； the hostilities between Christians would have become as deadly as among savages. Happily， French soldiers felt the nobleness of their profession； on the order being given to shoot the prisoners， a decent sergeant replied：
"We will not shoot - send them to the Convention. If the representatives delight in killing prisoners - let them do it themselves， and eat them， too， savages as they are！"The sergeant， an ordinary man， is not on a level with the Committee， or with Barère； and yet Barère did his best in a bill of indictment of twenty-seven pages， full of grand flourishes， every possible ritornello， glaring falsehood and silly inflation， explaining how "the Britannic leopard" paid assassins to murder the representatives； how the London cabinet had armed little Cécile Renault， "the new Corday，"against Robespierre； how the Englishman， naturally barbarous， "is unable to deny his origins； how he descends from the Carthaginians and Phenicians， and formerly dealt in the skins of wild beasts and slaves；how his trading occupation is not changed； how Cesar， formerly， on landing in the country， found nothing but a ferocious tribe battling with wolves in the forest and threatening to burn every vessel which would try to land there； and how he still remains like that." Alecture from a fairground surgeon who， using bombastic words， recommends extensive amputations， a fairground-prospectus so crude that it does not even deceive a poor sergeant， - such is the exposition of motives by a government for the purpose of enforcing a decree that might have been drawn up by redskins； to horrible acts he adds debased language， and employs the inept to justify their atrocities.
VI. Commissars of the Revolution.
