I asked what were the wages of labour.

'Three francs and half a day,' he said, 'during the harvest, with

food--which includes cider. In ordinary times one franc a day with food,

or a franc and a half without food.'

'It seems then,' I said, 'that you can feed a man for half a franc a

day?'

'He can feed himself,' said M. Roussell, 'for that, but I cannot, or for

double that money.'

The day labourer is generally hired only for one day. A new bargain is

made every day.

The house was not uncomfortable, but very untidy. There are no ricks,

everything is stored in large barns, where it is safe from weather, but

terribly exposed to vermin.

A bright-complexioned servant-girl was in the kitchen preparing an

enormous bowl of soup, of which bread, potatoes, and onions were the

chief solid ingredients.

'Roussell,' said Beaumont, 'is superior to his class. In general they are

bad politicians. It is seldom difficult to get their votes for the

nominee of the prefect. They dislike to vote for anyone whom they know,

especially if he be a gentleman, or be supported by the gentry. Such a

candidate excites their democratic envy and suspicion. But the prefect is

an abstraction. They have never seen him, they have seldom heard of his

name or of that of his candidate, and therefore they vote for him.

'Lately, however, in some of my communes, the peasants have adapted a new

practice, that of electing peasants. I suspect that the Government is not

displeased.

'The presence of such members will throw discredit on the _Conseils

généraux_, and, if they get there, on the _Corps législatif,_ much to the

pleasure of our democratic master, and they will be easily bribed or

frightened. Besides which the fifteen francs a day will be a fortune to

them, and they will be terrified by the threat of a dissolution. I do not

think that even yet we have seen the worst of universal suffrage.'

'What influence,' I asked, 'have the priests?'

'In some parts of France,' said Beaumont, 'where the people are

religious, as is the case here, much. Not much in the north-east, where

there is little religion; and in the towns, where there is generally no

religion, their patronage of a candidate would ruin him. I believe that

nothing has so much contributed to Louis Napoleon's popularity with the

_ouvriers_ as his quarrel with the Pope. You may infer the feelings of

the lower classes in Paris from his cousin's conduct.'

'I study Prince Napoleon,' said Ampère, 'with interest, for I believe

that he will be the successor.'

'If Louis Napoleon,' I said, 'were to be shot tomorrow, would not the

little prince be proclaimed?'

'Probably,' said Ampere, 'but with Jérôme for regent, and I doubt whether

the regency would end by the little Napoleon IV. assuming the sceptre.

'Louis Napoleon himself does not expect it. He often says that, in

France, it is more than two hundred years since a sovereign has been

succeeded by his son.

'On the whole,' continued Ampère, 'I had rather have Jérôme than Louis

Napoleon. He has more talent and less prudence. He would bring on the

crisis sooner.

'On the 31st of October, 1849,' said Madame de Tocqueville, 'I was in

Louis Napoleon's company, and he mentioned some matter on which he wished

to know my husband's opinion. I could not give it. "It does not much

signify," he answered, "for as I see M. de Tocqueville every day, I will

talk to him about it myself." At that very time, the _ordonnance_

dismissing M. de Tocqueville had been signed, and Louis Napoleon knew

that he would probably never see him again.'

'I do not,' said Ampere, 'give up the chance of a republic. I do not wish

for one. It must be a very bad constitutional monarchy which I should not

prefer to the best republic. My democratic illusions are gone. France and

America have dispelled them: but it must be a very bad republic which I

should not prefer to the best despotism. A republic is like a fever,

violent and frightful, but not necessarily productive of organic

mischief. A despotism is a consumption: it degrades and weakens, and

perverts all the vital functions.

'What is there now in France worth living for? I find people proud of our

Italian campaign. Why should the French be proud that their master's

soldiers have been successful in a war as to which they were not

consulted; which, in fact, they disapproved, which was not made for their

benefit, which was the most glaring proof of their servility and

degradation? We knew before that our troops were better than the

Austrians. What have we gained by the additional example of their

superiority?

'I fear,' I said, 'that a republic, at least such a republic as you are

likely to have, would begin by some gross economical enormities--by the

_droit au travail_, by the _impôt progressif sur la fortune présumtée_,

by a paper currency made a legal tender without limitation of its

amount.'

'The last republic,' said Ampere, 'did some of these things, but very

timidly and moderately. It gave to its paper a forced currency, but was

so cautious in its issue, that it was not depreciated. It created the

_ateliers nationaux,_ but it soon dissolved them, though at the expense

of a civil war. Its worst fault was more political than economical: it

was the 45 centimes, that is to say, the sudden increase by 45 per cent,

of the direct taxes. It never recovered that blow. Of all its acts it

is the one which is best recollected. The Provisional Government is known

in the provinces as "ces gredins des quarante-cinq centimes." The

business of a revolutionary government is to be popular. It ought to

reduce taxation, meet its expenditure by loans, abolish octrois and

prohibitions, and defer taxation until it has lasted long enough to be

submitted to as a _fait accompli_.'

'I fear,' said Madame de Tocqueville, 'that our working classes are in a

much worse frame of mind than they were in 1848. Socialist opinions--the

doctrine that the profits of capitalists are so much taken fraudulently

or oppressively from the wages of labourers, and that it is unjust that

one man should have more of the means of happiness than another--are

extending every day. The workpeople believe that the rich are their

enemies and that the Emperor is their friend, and that he will join them

in an attempt to get their fair share, that is, an equal share, of the

property of the country--and I am not sure that they are mistaken.'

'Nor am I,' said Beaumont '_Celui-ci_ fully sympathises with their

feelings, and I do not think that he has intelligence enough to see the

absurdity of their theories.'

'You do not deny him,' I said, 'intelligence?'

'Not,' said Beaumont, 'for some purposes, and to some extent, practical

intelligence. His ends are bad, but he is often skilful in inventing and

pertinacious in employing means for effecting those bad ends. But I

deny him theoretic intelligence. I do not think that he has comprehension

or patience to work out, or even to follow, a long train of reasoning;

such a train as that by which economical errors and fallacies are

detected.'

'Are there strikes,' I asked, 'among your workmen?'

'They are beginning,' said Beaumont. 'We have had one near us, and the

authorities were afraid to interfere.'

'I suppose,' I said, that they are illegal?'

'They are illegal,' he answered, 'and I think that they ought to be so.

They are always oppressive and tyrannical. The workman who does not join

in a strike is made miserable. They are generally mischievous to

the combined workmen themselves, and always to those of other trades.

Your toleration of them appears to me one of the worst symptoms of your

political state of health. It shows among your public men an ignorance or

a cowardice, or a desire of ill-earned popularity, which is generally a

precursor of a democratic revolution.'

'It is certain,' said Ampère, 'that the masters are becoming afraid of

their workmen. Péreire brings his from their residences to the Barrière

Malesherbes in carriages. You are not actually insulted in the streets

of Paris, but you are treated with rude neglect. A _fiacre_ likes to

splash you, a _paveur_ to scatter you with mud. Louis Napoleon began with

Chauvinism. He excited all the bad international passions of the

multitude. He has now taken up Sansculotteism. Repulsed with scorn and

disgust by the rich and the educated, he has thrown himself on the poor

and ignorant The passions with which he likes to work are envy,

malignity, and rapacity.

'I do not believe that he feels them. He is what is called a good-natured

man. That is to say, he likes to please everyone that he sees. But his

selfishness is indescribable.

'No public interest stands in the way of his slightest caprice. He often

puts me in mind of Nero. With the same indifference to the welfare of

others with which Nero amused himself by burning down Rome, he is amusing

himself by pulling down Paris.'

Correspondence & Conversations of Alexis de Tocqueville with Nassau William Senior from 1834 to 1859, Volume 2 · 第 76 / 83 题