No man perhaps had more earnestly sought and more passionately striven
for the fall of the Empire than Victor de Mauleon; and perhaps no man
was more dissatisfied and disappointed by the immediate consequences
of that fall, In first conspiring against the Empire, he had naturally
enough, in common with all the more intelligent enemies of the dynasty,
presumed that its fate would be worked out by the normal effect of civil
causes--the alienation of the educated classes, the discontent of
the artisans, the eloquence of the press and of popular meetings,
strengthened in proportion as the Emperor had been compelled to relax
the former checks upon the license of either. And De Mauleon had no less
naturally concluded that there would be time given for the preparation
of a legitimate and rational form of government to succeed that which
was destroyed. For, as has been hinted or implied, this remarkable man
was not merely an instigator of revolution through the Secret Council,
and the turbulent agencies set in movement through the lower strata of
society;--he was also in confidential communication with men eminent for
wealth, station, and political repute, from whom he obtained the funds
necessary for the darker purposes of conspiracy, into the elaboration of
which they did not inquire; and these men, though belonging like himself
to the Liberal party, were no hot-blooded democrats. Most of them
were in favour of constitutional monarchy; all of them for forms of
government very different from any republic in which socialists or
communists could find themselves uppermost. Among these politicians were
persons ambitious and able, who, in scheming for the fall of the Empire,
had been prepared to undertake the task of conducting to ends compatible
with modern civilisation the revolution they were willing to allow a mob
at Paris to commence. The opening of the war necessarily suspended
their designs. How completely the events of the 4th September mocked the
calculations of their ablest minds, and paralysed the action of their
most energetic spirits, will appear in the conversation I am about to
record. It takes place between Victor de Mauleon and the personage
to whom he had addressed the letter written on the night before the
interview with Louvier, in which Victor had announced his intention of
reappearing in Paris in his proper name and rank. I shall designate this
correspondent as vaguely as possible; let me call him the Incognito. He
may yet play so considerable a part in the history of France as a potent
representative of the political philosophy of De Tocqueville--that is,
of Liberal principles incompatible with the absolute power either of a
sovereign or a populace, and resolutely opposed to experiments on the
foundations of civilised society--that it would be unfair to himself and
his partisans if, in a work like this, a word were said that could
lead malignant conjecture to his identity with any special chief of the
opinions of which I here present him only as a type.
The Incognito, entering Victor’s apartment:
“My dear friend, even if I had not received your telegram, I should have
hastened hither on the news of this astounding revolution. It is only in
Paris that such a tragedy could be followed by such a farce. You were on
the spot--a spectator. Explain it if you can.”
DE MAULEON.--“I was more than a spectator; I was an actor. Hiss me--I
deserve it. When the terrible news from Sedan reached Paris, in the
midst of the general stun and bewilderment I noticed a hesitating
timidity among all those who had wares in their shops and a good coat on
their backs. They feared that to proclaim the Empire defunct would be to
install the Red Republic with all its paroxysm of impulsive rage and all
its theories of wholesale confiscation. But since it was impossible
for the object we had in view to let slip the occasion of deposing the
dynasty which stood in its way, it was necessary to lose no time
in using the revolutionary part of the populace for that purpose. I
assisted in doing so; my excuse is this--that in a time of crisis a
man of action must go straight to his immediate object, and in so doing
employ the instruments at his command. I made, however, one error in
judgment which admits no excuse: I relied on all I had heard, and all I
had observed, of the character of Trochu, and I was deceived, in common,
I believe, with all his admirers, and three parts of the educated
classes of Paris.”
INCOGNITO.--“I should have been equally deceived! Trochu’s conduct is a
riddle that I doubt if he himself can ever solve. He was master of the
position; he had the military force in his hands if he combined with
Palikao, which, whatever the jealousies between the two, it was his
absolute duty to do. He had a great prestige--”
DE MAULEON.--“And for the moment a still greater popularity. His ipse
dixit could have determined the wavering and confused spirits of the
population. I was prepared for his abandonment of the Emperor--even of
the Empress and the Regency. But how could I imagine that he, the man of
moderate politics, of Orleanistic leanings, the clever writer, the fine
talker, the chivalrous soldier, the religious Breton, could abandon
everything that was legal, everything that could save France against
the enemy, and Paris against civil discord; that he would connive at the
annihilation of the Senate, of the popular Assembly, of every form of
Government that could be recognised as legitimate at home or abroad,
accept service under men whose doctrines were opposed to all his
antecedents, all his professed opinions, and inaugurate a chaos under
the name of a Republic!”
INCOGNITO.--“How, indeed? How suppose that the National Assembly, just
elected by a majority of seven millions and a half, could be hurried
into a conjuring-bog, and reappear as the travesty of a Venetian
oligarchy, composed of half-a-dozen of its most unpopular members!
The sole excuse for Trochu is, that he deemed all other considerations
insignificant compared with the defence of Paris, and the united action
of the nation against the invaders. But if that were his honest desire
in siding with this monstrous usurpation of power, he did everything
by which the desire could be frustrated. Had there been any provisional
body composed of men known and esteemed, elected by the Chambers,
supported by Trochu and the troops at his back, there would have been
a rallying-point for the patriotism of the provinces; and in the wise
suspense of any constitution to succeed that Government until the enemy
were chased from the field, all partisans--Imperialists, Legitimists,
Orleanists, Republicans--would have equally adjourned their differences.
But a democratic Republic, proclaimed by a Parisian mob for a nation in
which sincere democratic Republicans are a handful, in contempt of
an Assembly chosen by the country at large; headed by men in whom the
provinces have no trust, and for whom their own representatives are
violently cashiered;--can you conceive such a combination of wet
blankets supplied by the irony of Fate for the extinction of every spark
of ardour in the population from which armies are to be gathered in
haste, at the beck of usupers they distrust and despise? Paris has
excelled itself in folly. Hungering for peace, it proclaims a Government
which has no legal power to treat for it. Shrieking out for allies among
the monarchies, it annihilates the hope of obtaining them; its sole
chance of escape from siege, famine, and bombardment, is in the
immediate and impassioned sympathy of the provinces; and it revives
all the grudges which the provinces have long sullenly felt against
the domineering pretensions of the capital, and invokes the rural
populations, which comprise the pith and sinew of armies, in the name
of men whom I verily believe they detest still more than they do the
Prussians. Victor, it is enough to make one despair of his country! All
beyond the hour seems anarchy and ruin.”
“Not so!” exclaimed De Mauleon. “Everything comes to him who knows how
to wait. The Empire is destroyed; the usurpation that follows it has
no roots. It will but serve to expedite the establishment of such a
condition as we have meditated and planned--a constitution adapted to
our age and our people, not based wholly on untried experiments, taking
the best from nations that do not allow Freedom and Order to be the
sport of any popular breeze. From the American Republic we must borrow
the only safeguards against the fickleness of the universal suffrage
which, though it was madness to concede in any ancient community, once
conceded cannot be safely abolished,--viz., the salutary law that no
article of the Constitution, once settled, can be altered without the
consent of two-thirds of the legislative body. By this law we insure
permanence, and that concomitant love for institutions which is
engendered by time and custom. Secondly, the formation of a senate on
such principles as may secure to it in all times of danger a confidence
and respect which counteract in public opinion the rashness and heat of
the popular assembly. On what principles that senate should be formed,
with what functions invested, what share of the executive--especially
in foreign affairs, declarations of war, or treaties of peace--should
be accorded to it, will no doubt need the most deliberate care of the
ablest minds. But a senate I thus sketch has alone rescued America from
the rashness of counsel incident to a democratic Chamber; and it is
still more essential to France, with still more favourable elements for
its creation. From England we must borrow the great principle that has
alone saved her from revolution--that the head of the State can do
no wrong. He leads no armies, he presides over no Cabinet. All
responsibility rests with his advisers; and where we upset a dynasty,
England changes an administration. Whether the head of the State should
have the title of sovereign or president, whether he be hereditary or
elected, is a question of minor importance impossible now to determine,
but on which I heartily concur with you that hereditary monarchy is
infinitely better adapted to the habits of Frenchmen, to their love
of show and of honours--and infinitely more preservative from all the
dangers which result from constant elections to such a dignity, with
parties so heated, and pretenders to the rank so numerous--than any
principle by which a popular demagogue or a successful general is
enabled to destroy the institutions he is elected to guard. On these
fundamental doctrines for the regeneration of France I think we are
agreed. And I believe when the moment arrives to promulgate them,
through an expounder of weight like yourself, they will rapidly commend
themselves to the intellect of France. For they belong to common sense;
and in the ultimate prevalence of common-sense I have a faith which I
refuse to medievalists who would restore the right divine; and still
more to fanatical quacks, who imagine that the worship of the Deity, the
ties of family, and the rights of property are errors at variance with
the progress of society. Qui vivera, verra.”
INCOGNITO.--“In the outlines of the policy you so ably enunciate I
heartily concur. But if France is, I will not say to be regenerated, but
to have fair play among the nations of Europe, I add one or two items
to the programme. France must be saved from Paris, not by subterranean
barracks and trains, the impotence of which we see to-day with a
general in command of the military force, but by conceding to France
its proportionate share of the power now monopolised by Paris. All
this system of centralisation, equally tyrannical and corrupt, must be
eradicated. Talk of examples from America, of which I know little--from
England, of which I know much,--what can we more advantageously borrow
from England than that diffusion of all her moral and social power
which forbids the congestion of blood in one vital part? Decentralise!
decentralise! decentralise! will be my incessant cry, if ever the time
comes when my cry will be heard. France can never be a genuine France
until Paris has no more influence over the destinies of France than
London has over those of England. But on this theme I could go on till
midnight. Now to the immediate point: what do you advise me to do in
this crisis, and what do you propose to do yourself?”
De Mauleon put his hand to his brow, and remained a few moments silent
and thoughtful. At last he looked up with that decided expression of
face which was not the least among his many attributes for influence
over those with whom he came into contact.
“For you, on whom so much of the future depends, my advice is
brief--have nothing to do with the present. All who join this present
mockery of a Government will share the fall that attends it--a fall from
which one or two of their body may possibly recover by casting blame on
their confreres,--you never could. But it is not for you to oppose that
Government with an enemy on its march to Paris. You are not a soldier;
military command is not in your rode. The issue of events is uncertain;
but whatever it be, the men in power cannot conduct a prosperous war nor
obtain an honourable peace. Hereafter you may be the Deus ex machina. No
personage of that rank and with that mission appears till the end of
the play: we are only in the first act. Leave Paris at once, and abstain
from all action.”
INCOGNITO (dejectedly).--“I cannot deny the soundness of your advice,
though in accepting it I feel unutterably saddened. Still you, the
calmest and shrewdest observer among my friends, think there is cause
for hope, not despair. Victor, I have more than most men to make life
pleasant, but I would lay down life at this moment with you. You know me
well enough to be sure that I utter no melodramatic fiction when I
say that I love my country as a young man loves the ideal of his
dreams--with my whole mind and heart and soul! and the thought that I
cannot now aid her in the hour of her mortal trial is--is--”
The man’s voice broke down, and he turned aside, veiling his face with a
hand that trembled.
DE MAULEON--“Courage--patience! All Frenchmen have the first; set them
an example they much need in the second. I, too, love my country, though
I owe to it little enough, heaven knows. I suppose love of country is
inherent in all who are not Internationalists. They profess only to love
humanity, by which, if they mean anything practical, they mean a rise in
wages.”
INCOGNITO (rousing himself, and with a half smile). “Always cynical,
Victor--always belying yourself. But now that you have advised my
course, what will be your own? Accompany me, and wait for better times.”
“No, noble friend; our positions are different. Yours is made--mine yet
to make. But for this war I think I could have secured a seat in the
Chamber. As I wrote you, I found that my kinsfolk were of much influence
in their department, and that my restitution to my social grade, and the
repute I had made as an Orleanist, inclined them to forget my youthful
errors and to assist my career. But the Chamber ceases to exist. My
journal I shall drop. I cannot support the Government; it is not a
moment to oppose it. My prudent course is silence.”
INCOGNITO.--“But is not your journal essential to your support?”
DE MAULEON.--“Fortunately not. Its profits enabled me to lay by for the
rainy day that has come; and having reimbursed you and all friends
the sums necessary to start it, I stand clear of all debt, and, for
my slender wants, a rich man. If I continued the journal I should be
beggared; for there would be no readers to Common Sense in this interval
of lunacy. Nevertheless, during this interval, I trust to other ways for
winning a name that will open my rightful path of ambition whenever we
again have a legislature in which Common Sense can be heard.”
INCOGNITO.--“But how win that name, silenced as a writer?”
DE MAULEON.--“You forget that I have fought in Algeria. In a few days
Paris will be in a state of siege; and then--and then,” he added,
and very quietly dilated on the renown of a patriot or the grave of a
soldier.
“I envy you the chance of either,” said the Incognito; and after a few
more brief words he departed, his hat drawn over his brows, and entering
a hired carriage which he had left at the corner of the quiet street,
was consigned to the station du --------, just in time for the next
train.