“You are astonished to hear me say such a thing,” he continued, “but let me explain to you my thoughts, and you will understand me better. Royalty, like so many other things, is a prejudice, at least for the masses who have neither traditions nor principles. It represents, or at least ought to represent to them, something that is strong, powerful, entirely above them, beyond them; something sacred, that no power save that of God may touch or may destroy. Once this feeling concerning it is gone, half its prestige is gone too. The mob only respects what it can neither harm nor kill. If it once sees that royalty, like everything else, can be touched with a sacrilegious hand, that it is at the mercy of the first boy or man in the street, then the mob not only loses every fear, but also its veneration. It rejoices to see that it has got over the feeling of awe which formerly inspired it with regard to that superior thing which ruled it; it delights in pulling it down, and in treasuring the remembrance of the day on which it smashed it to the ground. Now nothing reminds one more of deeds done, whether good or bad, than the spots where such deeds were committed.
“The French people, when looking at Versailles, and walking freely through the rooms where Kings formerly reigned, can always think, speak and remember, with something of that low pride which a boxer feels when he has knocked his adversary to the ground, of the time when they destroyed the power which had ruled them, and feasted in the halls of their former masters. That remembrance is most unwholesome, and can only foster rebellious feelings in the breasts of those who treasure it. Had Versailles been destroyed the Revolution of course would not have been forgotten, but the nation would not always have had before its eyes the sight of the monument of the fallen grandeur of its Kings. Facts are forgotten or lose their importance far quicker than one thinks; but places, and spots, keep their eloquence, and unfortunately keep it for ever.”
He stopped, and looked back towards the walls of the massive old pile, whose many windows were blazing in the setting sun. And once more he sighed: “Yes, I do regret that this place has not been burned down and destroyed; it would not have witnessed then the triumph of the victorious Prussian eagle, and after that, what real French King would care to live in it, even if a King ever reigns again in France!”
He sighed yet again, and we slowly retraced our steps towards the town. As we passed the Castle gates, he stopped again: “Sic transit gloria mundi,” he quoted; “my glory, like that of my ancestors, has passed away; perhaps it is for the best after all, since I was not destined to see my race continue!”
Much has been related concerning the interview which the Comte de Chambord had with Marshal MacMahon, when he asked him whether or not he would feel inclined to favour a monarchical restoration. It has been said that the old soldier, who without scruple had accepted the succession of Napoleon III., to whom he owed his title and his dignity, found that his conscience would not allow him to “betray,” as he expressed himself, the Republican government, at the head of which he had been called by a parliamentary majority who had done so only in the hope that he would help it to reinstate its former Kings.
There is some truth in this reproach, because certainly MacMahon had not shown himself before, and did not show himself in the future, so very chary of offending public opinion as represented by the Legislative Assembly which was supposed to be the voice of the country. But in the non possumus which he opposed to the restoration of the Comte de Chambord,
Photo: Pierre Petit, Paris.
ADOLPHE THIERS