"Do not congratulate me, sir: I voted the death of the tyrant." It was the accent of austerity opposed to that of sternness.
"What do you mean?" the Bishop continued.
"I mean that man has a tyrant, Ignorance, and I voted for the end of that tyrant which engendered royalty, which is the false authority, while knowledge is the true authority. Man must only be governed by knowledge."
"And by his conscience," the Bishop added.
"That is the same thing. Conscience is the amount of innate knowledge we have in us."
Monseigneur Welcome listened in some surprise to this language, which was very novel to him. The Republican continued,—
"As for Louis XVI. I said No. I do not believe that I have the right to kill a man, but I feel the duty of exterminating a tyrant, and I voted for the end of the tyrant. That is to say, for the end of prostitution for women; the end of slavery for men; and the end of night for children. In voting for the Republic I voted for all this: I voted for fraternity, concord, the Dawn! I aided in the overthrow of errors and prejudices, and such an overthrow produces light; we hurled down the old world, and that vase of wretchedness, by being poured over the human race, became an urn of joy."
"Mingled joy," said the Bishop.
"You might call it a troubled joy, and now, after that fatal return of the past which is called 1814, a departed joy. Alas! the work was incomplete, I grant; we demolished the ancient régime in facts, but were not able to suppress it completely in ideas. It is not sufficient to destroy abuses, but morals must also be modified. Though the mill no longer exists, the wind still blows."
"You demolished: it may be useful, but I distrust a demolition complicated with passion."