It is remarkable, (says Bulwer, in his _Zanoni_,) that most of the
principal actors of the French Revolution were singularly hideous in
appearance--from the colossal ugliness of Mirabeau and Danton, or the
villanous ferocity in the countenances of David and Simon, to the
filthy squalor of Marat, and the sinister and bilious meanness of the
Dictator’s features. But Robespierre, who was said to resemble a cat,
and had also a cat’s cleanliness, was prim and dainty in dress, shaven
smoothness, and the womanly whiteness of his hands. Réné Dumas, born of
reputable parents, and well educated, despite his ferocity, was not
without a certain refinement, which perhaps rendered him the more
acceptable to the precise Robespierre. Dumas was a beau in his way: his
gala-dress was a _blood-red_ coat, with the finest ruffles. But Henriot
had been a lacquey, a thief, a spy of the police; he had drank the blood
of Madame de Lamballe, and had risen for no quality but his ruffianism;
and Fouquier Tinville, the son of a provincial agriculturist, and
afterwards a clerk at the bureau of the police, was little less base in
his manners, and yet more, from a certain loathsome buffoonery,
revolting in his speech; bull-headed, with black, sleek hair, with a
narrow and livid forehead, and small eyes that twinkled with sinister
malice; strongly and coarsely built, he looked what he was, the
audacious bully of a lawless and relentless bar.