“That would be ungentlemanly,” retorted the senator, vexed with the interruption; “you would surely not introduce a reign of terror!”
“I don’t know about that,” ejaculated the member; “I am the man for the people, and, when any one insults them, my dander is up; and then I don’t know what I am doing.”
The senator made no reply.
“There are men in Paris,” continued he after a while, “who do more harm to their countrymen than all the books that have been written on America.”
“And who are they?” demanded the member eagerly.
“I shall not name them,” said the senator; “but they are some of our vulgar rich men, and the very worst hunters after nobility. One of them gives fine parties, and has by his extravagance acquired a sort of notoriety which he is mistaking for reputation. This man, who is much more proud of his intercourse with French noblemen than of his familiarity with his own countrymen, while at Florence actually refused to recognise one of our worthiest citizens whom he well knew, and whom the Grand Duke had received on several occasions.—‘Do you know Mr. ***’ asked the Imperial Prince of Austria, the lion of Paris.—‘I do not,’ replied the latter, somewhat abashed.—‘He has certainly a very agreeable family,’ observed his Highness, by way of explaining his motive.—‘That may be,’ answered the wealthy nothing; ‘but he is a merchant, and I do not associate with these.’—‘Indeed!’ remarked the Grand Duke naïvely, ‘I was always told the merchants composed your best society!’”
“And I dare say,” said the member, “he would have been glad, while in America, to be ranked with the society of merchants.”
“It is the character of every toad-eater,” observed the senator drily, “that he ceases to recognise his friends the moment they can no longer be useful to him. There are toad-eaters in politics as well as in society. A man may be a toad-eater to the mob as well as to those above him; and I do not know which of the two kinds is the worst. We have a set of political sycophants who fawn and cringe before every party that is in power, and who are always the first to desert them at the least mauvais contretemps. Our democracy has no greater enemies than those twaddles. They come over to the side of the people when they have no other alternative left, and are the servants of the people just as long as the people have the power to retain them. They are democrats for a share in the loaves and fishes, and injure the party more than its most avowed opponents; just as treachery in your own ranks is worse than an attack from your enemy.”
“But I should think people would soon find them out,” observed the member.
“They may indeed very easily be detected,” said the senator; “only the people find them out too late. One of the surest means of detecting them is to watch their animosity against harmless individuals, while they show the greatest delicacy for persons who have the power to injure them. These men are always ready to kill the fly that annoys them, but move quietly out of the way of the elephant; they never show their courage unless they are quite sure of opposing the weak, or, like Falstaff at the battle of Shrewsbury, merely stab the slain.”