VI

NOVELTIES IN RESPECT TO WHAT IS LAWFUL

The press enjoys the privilege of being censored, of being admonished, of being suspended, of being suppressed; it has even the privilege of being tried. Tried! By whom? By the courts. What courts? The police courts. And what about that excellent trial by jury? Progress: it is outstripped. The jury is far behind us, and we return to the government judges. "Repression is more rapid and more efficacious," as Maitre Rouher says. And then 'tis so much better. Call the causes: correctional police, sixth chamber; first cause, one Roumage, swindler; second cause, one Lamennais, writer. This has a good effect, and accustoms the citizens to talk without distinction of writers and swindlers. That, certainly, is an advantage; but in a practical point of view, with reference to "repression," is the government quite sure of what it has done on that head? Is it quite sure that the sixth chamber will answer better than the excellent a.s.size court of Paris, for instance, which had for president such abject creatures as Partarrieu-Lafosse, and for advocates at its bar, such base wretches as Suin, and such dull orators as Mongis? Can it reasonably expect that the police judges will be still more base and more contemptible than they? Will those judges, salaried as they are, work better than that jury-squad, who had the department prosecutor for corporal, and who p.r.o.nounced their judgments and gesticulated their verdicts with the precision of a charge in double quick time, so that the prefect of police, Carlier, good-humouredly observed to a celebrated advocate, M.

Desm----: "_The jury! what a stupid inst.i.tution! When not forced to it they never condemn, but when forced they never acquit._" Let us weep for that worthy jury which was made by Carlier and unmade by Rouher.

This government feels that it is hideous. It wants no portrait; above all it wants no mirror. Like the osprey it takes refuge in darkness, and it would die if once seen. Now it wishes to endure. It does not propose to be talked about; it does not propose to be described. It has imposed silence on the press of France; we have seen in what manner.

But to silence the press in France was only half-success. It must also be silenced in foreign countries. Two prosecutions were attempted in Belgium, against the _Bulletin Francais_ and against _La Nation_. They were acquitted by an honest Belgian jury. This was annoying. What was to be done? The Belgian journals were attacked through their pockets.

"You have subscribers in France," they were told; "but if you 'discuss'

us, you shall be kept out. If you wish to come in, make yourselves agreeable." An attempt was made to frighten the English journals. "If you 'discuss' us"--decidedly they do not wish to be _discussed_--"we shall drive your correspondents out of France." The English press roared with laughter. But this is not all. There are French writers outside of France: they are proscribed, that is to say they are free.

Suppose those fellows should speak? Suppose those demagogues should write? They are very capable of doing both; and we must prevent them.

But how are we to do it? To gag people at a distance is not so easy a matter: M. Bonaparte's arm is not long enough for that. Let us try, however; we will prosecute them in the countries where they have taken refuge. Very good: the juries of free countries will understand that these exiles represent justice, and that the Bonapartist government personifies iniquity. These juries will follow the example of the Belgian jury and acquit. The friendly governments will then be solicited to expel these refugees, to banish these exiles. Very good: the exiles will go elsewhere; they will always find some corner of the earth open to them where they can speak. How then are they to be got at? Rouher and Baroche clubbed their wits together, and between them they hit upon this expedient: to patch up a law dealing with crimes committed by Frenchmen in foreign countries, and to slip into it "crimes of the press." The Council of State sanctioned this, and the Corps Legislatif did not oppose it, and it is now the law of the land.

If we speak outside of France, we shall be condemned for the offence in France; imprisonment (in future, if caught), fines and confiscations.

Again, very good. The book I am now writing will, therefore, be tried in France, and its author duly convicted; this I expect, and I confine myself to apprising all those quidams calling themselves magistrates, who, in black and red gown, shall concoct the thing that, sentence to any fine whatever being well and duly p.r.o.nounced against me, nothing will equal my disdain for the judgment, but my contempt for the judges.

This is my defence.

VII

THE ADHERENTS

Who are they that flock round the establishment? As we have said, the gorge rises at thought of them.

Ah! these rulers of the day,--we who are now proscribed remember them when they were representatives of the people, only twelve months ago, running hither and thither in the lobbies of the a.s.sembly, their heads high, and with a show of independence, and the air and manner of men who belonged to themselves. What magnificence! and how proud they were!

How they placed their hands on their hearts while they shouted "Vive la Republique!" And if some "Terrorist," some "Montagnard," or some "red republican," happened to allude from the tribune to the planned _coup d'etat_ and the projected Empire, how they vociferated at him: "You are a calumniator!" How they shrugged their shoulders at the word "Senate!"--"The Empire to-day" cried one, "would be blood and slime; you slander us, we shall never be implicated in such a matter." Another affirmed that he consented to be one of the President's ministers solely to devote himself to the defence of the Const.i.tution and the laws; a third glorified the tribune as the palladium of the country; a fourth recalled the oath of Louis Bonaparte, exclaiming: "Do you doubt that he is an honest man?" These last--there were two of them--went the length of voting for and signing his deposition, on the 2nd of December, at the mayoralty of the Tenth Arrondiss.e.m.e.nt; another sent a note on the 4th of December to the writer of these lines, to "felicitate him on having dictated the proclamation of the Left, by which Louis Bonaparte was outlawed." And now, behold them, Senators, Councillors of State, ministers, belaced, betagged, bedizened with gold! Base wretches! Before you embroider your sleeves, wash your hands!

M. Q.-B. paid a visit to M. O.-B. and said to him: "Can you conceive the a.s.surance of this Bonaparte? he has had the presumption to offer me the place of Master of Requests!"--"You refused it?"--"Certainly."--The next day, being offered the place of Councillor of State, salary twenty-five thousand francs, our indignant Master of Requests becomes a grateful Councillor of State. M. Q.-B. accepts.

One cla.s.s of men rallied en ma.s.se: the fools! They comprise the sound part of the Corps Legislatif. It was to them that the head of the State addressed this little flattery:--"The first test of the Const.i.tution, entirely of French origin, must have convinced you that we possess the qualities of a strong and a free government. We are in earnest, discussion is free, and the vote of taxation decisive. France possesses a government animated by faith and by love of the right, which is based upon the people, the source of all power; upon the army, the source of all strength; and upon religion, the source of all justice. Accept the a.s.surance of my regard." These worthy dupes, we know them also; we have seen a goodly number of them on the benches of the majority in the Legislative a.s.sembly. Their chiefs, skilful manipulators, had succeeded in terrifying them,--a certain method of leading them wherever they thought proper. These chiefs, unable any longer to employ usefully those old bugbears, the terms "Jacobin" and "sans-culotte," decidedly too hackneyed, had furbished up the word "demagogue." These ringleaders, trained to all sorts of schemes and manoeuvres, exploited successfully the word "Mountain," and agitated to good purpose that startling and glorious souvenir. With these few letters of the alphabet formed into syllables and suitably accented,--Demagogues, Montagnards, Part.i.tioners, Communists, Red Republicans,--they made wildfires dance before the eyes of the simple. They had found the method of perverting the brains of their colleagues, who were so ingenuous as to swallow them whole, so to speak, with a sort of dictionary, wherein every expression made use of by the democratic writers and orators was readily translated. For _humanity_ read _ferocity_; for _universal good_ read _subversion_; for _Republic_ read _Terrorism_; for _Socialism_ read _Pillage_; for _Fraternity_, read _Ma.s.sacre_; for _the Gospel_, read _Death to the Rich_. So that, when an orator of the Left exclaimed, for instance: "_We rush for the suppression of war, and the abolition of the death penalty_," a crowd of poor souls on the Right distinctly understood: "_We wish to put everything to fire and sword_;" and in a fury shook their fists at the orator. After such speeches, in which there had been a question only of liberty, of universal peace, of prosperity arising from labour, of concord, and of progress, the representatives of that category which we have designated at the head of this paragraph, were seen to rise, pale as death; they were not sure that they were not already guillotined, and went to look for their hats to see whether they still had heads.

These poor frightened creatures did not haggle over their adhesion to the 2nd of December. The expression, "Louis Napoleon has saved society," was invented especially for them.

And those eternal prefects, those eternal mayors, those eternal magistrates, those eternal sheriffs, those eternal complimenters of the rising sun, or of the lighted lamp, who, on the day after success, flock to the conqueror, to the triumpher, to the master, to his Majesty Napoleon the Great, to his Majesty Louis XVIII, to his Majesty Alexander I, to his Majesty Charles X, to his Majesty Louis Philippe, to Citizen Lamartine, to Citizen Cavaignac, to Monseigneur the Prince-President, kneeling, smiling, expansive, bearing upon salvers the keys of their towns, and on their faces the keys of their consciences!

But imbeciles ('tis an old story) have always made a part of all inst.i.tutions, and are almost an inst.i.tution of themselves; and as for the prefects and magistrates, as for these adorers of every new regime, insolent with, fortune and rapidity, they abound at all times. Let us do justice to the regime of December; it can boast not only of such partisans as these, but it has creatures and adherents peculiar to itself; it has produced an altogether new race of notabilities.

Nations are never conscious of all the riches they possess in the matter of knaves. Overturnings and subversions of this description are necessary to bring them to light. Then the nations wonder at what issues from the dust. It is splendid to contemplate. One whose shoes and clothes and reputation were of a sort to attract all the dogs of Europe in full cry, comes forth an amba.s.sador. Another, who had a glimpse of _Bicetre_ and _La Roquette_,[1] awakes a general, and Grand Eagle of the Legion of Honour. Every adventurer a.s.sumes an official costume, furnishes himself with a good pillow stuffed with bank-notes, takes a sheet of white paper, and writes thereon: "End of my adventures."--"You know So-and-So?"--"Yes, is he at the galleys?"--"No, he's a minister."

[1] State prisons in Paris and Languedoc.

VIII

MENS AGITAT MOLEM

In the centre is the man--the man we have described; the man of Punic faith, the fatal man, attacking the civilisation to arrive at power; seeking, elsewhere than amongst the true people, one knows not what ferocious popularity; cultivating the still uncivilized qualities of the peasant and the soldier, endeavouring to succeed by appealing to gross selfishness, to brutal pa.s.sions, to newly awakened desires, to excited appet.i.tes; something like a Prince Marat, with nearly the same object, which in Marat was grand, and in Louis Bonaparte is little; the man who kills, who transports, who banishes, who expels, who proscribes, who despoils; this man with hara.s.sed gesture and gla.s.sy eye, who walks with distracted air amid the horrible things he does, like a sort of sinister somnambulist.

It has been said of Louis Bonaparte, whether with friendly intent or otherwise,--for these strange beings have strange flatterers,--"He is a dictator, he is a despot, nothing more."--He is that in our opinion, and he is also something else.

The dictator was a magistrate. Livy[1] and Cicero[2] call him _praetor maximus_; Seneca[3] calls him _magister populi_; what he decreed was looked upon as a fiat from above. Livy[4] says: _pro numine observatum_.

In those times of incomplete civilisation, the rigidity of the ancient laws not having foreseen all cases, his function was to provide for the safety of the people; he was the product of this text: _salus populi suprema lex esto_. He caused to be carried before him the twenty-four axes, the emblems of his power of life and death. He was outside the law, and above the law, but he could not touch the law. The dictatorship was a veil, behind which the law remained intact. The law was before the dictator and after him; and it resumed its power over him on the cessation of his office. He was appointed for a very short period--six months only: _semestris dictatura_, says Livy.[5]

But as if this enormous power, even when freely conferred by the people, ultimately weighed heavily upon him, like remorse, the dictator generally resigned before the end of his term. Cincinnatus gave it up at the end of eight days. The dictator was forbidden to dispose of the public funds without the authority of the Senate, or to go out of Italy. He could not even ride on horseback without the permission of the people. He might be a plebeian; Marcius Rutilus, and Publius Philo were dictators. That magistracy was created for very different objects: to organize fetes for saints' days; to drive a sacred nail into the wall of the Temple of Jupiter; on one occasion to appoint the Senate.

Republican Rome had eighty-eight dictators. This intermittent inst.i.tution continued for one hundred and fifty-three years, from the year of Rome 552, to the year 711. It began with Servilius Geminus, and reached Caesar, pa.s.sing over Sylla. It expired with Caesar. The dictatorship was fitted to be repudiated by Cincinnatus, and to be espoused by Caesar. Caesar was five times dictator in the course of five years, from 706 to 711. This was a dangerous magistracy, and it ended by devouring liberty.

[1] Lib. vii., cap. 31.

[2] De Republica. Lib. i, cap. 40.

[3] Ep. 108.

[4] Lib. iii., cap. 5.

[5] Lib. vi., cap. 1.

Is M. Bonaparte a dictator? We see no impropriety in answering yes.

_Praetor maximus_,--general-in-chief? the colours salute him. _Magister populi_,--the master of the people? ask the cannons levelled on the public squares. _Pro numine observatum_,--regarded as G.o.d? ask M.

Troplong. He has appointed the Senate, he has inst.i.tuted holidays, he has provided for the "safety of society," he has driven a sacred nail into the wall of the Pantheon, and he has hung upon this nail his _coup d'etat_. The only discrepancy is, that he makes and unmakes the law according to his own fancy, he rides horseback without permission, and as to the six months, he takes a little more time. Caesar took five years, he takes double; that is but fair. Julius Caesar five, M. Louis Bonaparte ten--the proportion is well observed.

From the dictator, let us pa.s.s to the despot. This is the other qualification almost accepted by M. Bonaparte. Let us speak for a while the language of the Lower Empire. It befits the subject.

The _Despotes_ came after the _Basileus_. Among other attributes, he was general of the infantry and of the cavalry--_magister utriusque exercitus_. It was the Emperor Alexis, surnamed the Angel, who created the dignity of _despotes_. This officer was below the Emperor, and above the Sebastocrator, or Augustus, and above the Caesar.

It will be seen that this is somewhat the case with us. M. Bonaparte is _despotes_, if we admit, which is not difficult, that Magnan is Caesar, and that Maupas is Augustus.

Despot and dictator, that is admitted. But all this great _eclat_, all this triumphant power, does not prevent little incidents from happening in Paris, like the following, which honest _badauds_, witnesses of the fact, will tell you, musingly. Two men were walking in the street, talking of their business or their private affairs. One of them, referring to some knave or other, of whom he thought he had reason to complain, exclaimed: "He is a wretch, a swindler, a rascal!" A police agent who heard these last words, cried out: "Monsieur, you are speaking of the President; I arrest you."

And now, will M. Bonaparte be Emperor, or will he not?

A pretty question! He is master,--he is Cadi, Mufti, Bey, Dey, Sultan, Grand Khan, Grand Lama, Great Mogul, Great Dragon, Cousin to the Sun, Commander of the Faithful, Shah, Czar, Sofi, and Caliph. Paris is no longer Paris, but Bagdad; with a Giaffar who is called Persigny, and a Scheherazade who is in danger of having her head chopped off every morning, and who is called _Le Const.i.tutionnel_. M. Bonaparte may do whatever he likes with property, families, and persons. If French citizens wish to fathom the depth of the "government" into which they have fallen, they have only to ask themselves a few questions. Let us see: magistrate, he tears off your gown, and sends you to prison. What of it? Let us see: Senate, Council of State, Corps Legislatif, he seizes a shovel, and flings you all in a heap in a corner. What of it?

Landed proprietor, he confiscates your country house and your town house, with courtyards, stables, gardens, and appurtenances. What of it? Father, he takes your daughter; brother, he takes your sister; citizen, he takes your wife, by right of might. What of it? Wayfarer, your looks displease him, and he blows your brains out with a pistol, and goes home. What of it?

All these things being done, what would be the result? Nothing.

"Monseigneur the Prince-President took his customary drive yesterday in the Champs elysees, in a caleche _a la Daumont_, drawn by four horses, accompanied by a single aide-de-camp." This is what the newspapers will say.

He has effaced from the walls Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity; and he is right. Frenchmen, alas! you are no longer either free,--the strait-waistcoat is upon you; or equal,--the soldier is everything; or brothers,--for civil war is brewing under this melancholy peace of a state of siege.

Emperor? Why not? He has a Maury who is called Sibour; he has a Fontanes, or, if you prefer it, a _Faciuntasinos_, who is called Fortoul; he has a Laplace who answers to the name of Leverrier, although he did not produce the "_Mecanique Celeste_." He will easily find Esmenards and Luce de Lancivals. His Pius VII is at Rome, in the ca.s.sock of Pius IX. His green uniform has been seen at Strasburg; his eagle has been seen at Boulogne; his grey riding-coat, did he not wear it at Ham? Ca.s.sock or riding-coat, 'tis all one. Madame de Stael comes out, of his house. She wrote "Lelia." He smiles on her pending the day when he will exile her. Do you insist on an archd.u.c.h.ess? wait awhile and he will get one. _Tu, felix Austria, nube._ His Murat is called Saint-Arnaud; his Talleyrand is called Morny; his Duc d'Enghien is called Law.

What does he lack then? Nothing; a mere trifle; merely Austerlitz and Marengo.