“No, no, we are not wanting in energy, but for the moment there’s nothing to be done. After the Exhibition we shall enter upon a vigorous course of action. It will be a favourable moment. After her fête France will be suffering from a bad head and a bad temper. There will be lock-outs and strikes. Nothing simpler than to provoke a Ministerial crisis, even a Presidential crisis. Don’t you agree with me, Léon?”
“Doubtless, doubtless,” replied Henri Léon. “But we must not forget that in three months’ time we shall be a little less numerous and Loubet a little less unpopular.”
Jacques de Cadde, Chassons des Aigues, Dellion, Lacrisse and all the Trublions tried to drown with their protestations so dismal a prediction, but in a very quiet voice Henri Léon proceeded:
“It is inevitable. Loubet will become less unpopular daily. He was primarily disliked because of the reports that we spread about him, but he will not live up to all of them. He is not great enough to equal the picture we drew of him, to the terror of the crowd. We showed them a Loubet of a hundred cubits’ stature, protecting the thieves in Parliament and destroying the Army. The reality will seem much less terrible. They will see that he does not always protect the thieves or disorganize the Army. He will hold reviews. That will produce an impression. He will ride in a carriage. That is more dignified than going on foot. He will bestow crosses and an abundance of academic palms, and those who receive the cross or the palms will refuse to believe that he intends to betray France. He will make tactful speeches; you may be sure of that; tactful because utterly inane. If he wants to be acclaimed he has only to travel about. The country people will cheer for the President as he passes, just as though he were the kind-hearted tanner whose loss we all deplore because he loved the Army. And if the Russian alliance were pulled off—the bare idea of such a thing makes me shudder—you would see our Nationalist friends unharness his carriage and drag it through the streets. I don’t say he’s a genius, but he’s not a bigger fool than the rest of us, and he is trying to improve his position. That’s only natural. We want to overthrow him and he is wearing us out.”
“I defy him to wear us out,” cried young Cadde.
“Time alone will suffice to wear us out,” replied Henri Léon. “How fine our Municipal Council was on the evening of the poll that gave us the majority! ‘Hurrah for the Army! Death to the Jews!’ yelled the electors, drunk with joy, pride and love. And the successful candidates, beaming, replied, ‘Death to the Jews! Hurrah for the Army!’ But as the new Council can neither free the sons of the electors from military service nor distribute the money of the rich Jews among the small shopkeepers nor even spare the working-man the horrors of slack times, it will betray vast hopes and become as odious as it was once desirable. It will shortly run the risk of becoming unpopular over questions of monopoly, gas, water and omnibuses.”
“You are wrong, my dear Léon,” cried Joseph Lacrisse. “There is nothing to fear with regard to the renewal of monopolies. We say to the electors, ‘We are giving you cheap gas,’ and the electors will not complain. The Municipal Council of Paris, elected on an exclusively political programme, will exercise a decisive influence on the political and national crises that will follow immediately after the closing of the Exhibition.”
“Yes, but in order to do that,” said Chassons des Aigues, “it will have to place itself at the head of the revolutionary movement. If it is moderate, prudent, conciliatory, considerate, all is lost. The Council must realize that it has been elected to overthrow and smash Parliamentarianism.”
“Blow the trumpet! Blow the trumpet!” cried Jacques de Cadde.
“Little must be said, but that little to the point,” continued Chassons des Aigues.