have united—yet it lay in the fatality of circumstances that they could not unite any more than will oil and vinegar, however much you may shake them up together. Although their aims were practically the same—for there was no difference in kind between the Republic which Danton wanted and that for which Brissot strove—yet were their methods radically opposed. The Gironde tried to found the new order on law; the Mountain on terror. The Gironde considered that the Revolution had gone far enough, and that the crying need was to inspire the nation with a sense of security; the Mountain held that whole sections must be exterminated before a reorganization could take place. It is the fashion now to praise up the last as the strong party, who knew what they wanted and managed to get it; but, if success is the test of capacity, their twelve months more of rule, or so, does not give them such vast superiority over the Girondins. Had they really managed to establish a permanent government there would be some reason for extolling their superior sagacity; but where was the advantage of their system, seeing that their wholesale executions—if they intimidated for a time—only turned the nation's love into loathing.
It is said that the strong coercive measures which they adopted ensured the splendid triumphs of the French army, whereas they had chiefly suffered reverses during the Girondin ascendancy. But one of the most glorious battles, that of Jemmapes, had been won by Dumouriez, a man appointed by the Gironde, but for whose subsequent treachery it could in no wise be blamed. When one remembers how largely the army of France was composed of raw volunteers, inexperienced if full of enthusiasm, their early reverses
