“It’s no longer the same thing. With Méline we were pseudo-official, we were supporters of the Government, we were Conservatives; the conditions were ideal for conspiracy. Don’t make any mistake about that. France as a whole is conservative, and domestic and changes alarm her. Méline did us the enormous service of making us appear reassuring; we appeared to be kindly and benign, as benign as he himself appeared. He told the people that we were the true Republicans, and the people believed him. You had only to look into his face; you couldn’t suspect him of a jest. Through him we were accepted by public opinion, and that in itself is no small service.”
“Méline was a good sort,” sighed Henri de Brécé. “We must at least do him that justice.”
“He was a patriot,” said Joseph Lacrisse.
“With such a minister,” continued Henri Léon, “we had everything, we were everything and we could do everything. We had no need to conceal ourselves. We were not outside the Republic; we were above it, and we dominated it from the full height of our patriotism. We were everything; we were France herself! I must admit that the Republic is good enough at times, though I’m not smitten with the hussy. Under Méline the police—I don’t exaggerate—were exquisitely agreeable. During a Royalist demonstration which you very kindly organized, Brécé, I yelled ‘Vive la police’ till I was hoarse! And I meant it. The enthusiasm with which they clubbed the Republicans! Gerault-Richard was put in gaol for shouting ‘Vive la République!’ Ah, Méline spoiled us, made life too pleasant for us. A wet-nurse, positively! He rocked us to sleep. That’s a fact. General Decuir himself used to say, ‘Now that we’ve got all we can possibly want, what’s the good of upsetting the whole caboodle and getting a nasty spill in doing it?’ Thrice-happy days when Méline led the dance! Nationalists, Monarchists, anti-Semites and Plebiscitarians, we all danced in unison to the sound of his rustic fiddle.
“We were all countrified and content. When Dupuy came along I was less pleased; with him things were not so honest and above-board; we were not so sure of ourselves. Of course he didn’t want to harm us, but he was not a true friend. He was not the kindly village fiddler leading the wedding procession. He was a fat coachman jogging us along in his cab. And we tore along, hanging on anyhow, always in danger of being upset. He had a hard hand on the reins. You will be telling me that his clumsiness was feigned; yes, but feigned clumsiness is tremendously like the real thing. Besides, he never knew where he wanted to go. There are people like that, fellows who don’t know your address but drive you indefinitely along impossible roads, winking maliciously as they do it. It unnerves one.”
“I don’t defend Dupuy,” said Henri de Brécé.
“I don’t attack him. I watch him, study him and classify him. I don’t dislike him; he’s been of great service to us. Don’t forget it. If it were not for him, we should all be doing time to-day. Oh yes, I mean it. I’m referring to Faure’s funeral, the great day fixed for simultaneous action. Well, my dear friends, after the failure of the great coup we should have been done for, had it not been for Dupuy.”
“It wasn’t us he wanted to spare,” said Joseph Lacrisse, with his nose in his ledger.
“I know that. He saw at a glance that he couldn’t do anything because there were some generals mixed up in the business. It was too big for him. But that doesn’t alter the fact that we owe him a jolly big candle.”[*]
[*] A reference to the practice of burning candles to induce the Virgin, or a Saint, to listen to a prayer, or in token of gratitude for a prayer granted.