r, to be liberated.

M. Maris Proth, a writer in _Charivari_, which is certainly not a
royalist journal, was arrested on the following day, and detained for a
longer time.

On the same day a search was made at the house of the publisher
Lacroix.]

[Illustration: Gambon.]

XXV.

Garibaldi is expected. Gambon has gone to Corsica to meet him. He is to
be placed at the head of the National Guard. It is devoutly to be hoped
that he will not come.[31]

Firstly, because his presence at this moment would create new dangers;
and secondly, because this admirable and honoured man would compromise
his glory uselessly in our sorry discords. If I, an obscure citizen, had
the honour of being one of those to whom the liberator of Naples lends
an ear, I would go to him without hesitation, and, after having bent
before him as I would before some ancient hero arisen from his glorious
sepulchre, say to him,--"General, you have delivered your country. At
the head of a few hundred men you have won battles and taken towns. Your
name recalls the name of William Tell. Wherever there were chains to
rend and yokes to break, you were seen to hasten. Like the warriors Hugo
exalts in his _Legende des Siecles_, you have been the champion of
justice, the knight-errant of liberty. You appear to us victorious in a
distant vision, as in the realm of legend. For the glory of our age in
which heroes are wanting, it befits you to remain that which you are.
Continue afar off, so that you may continue great. It is not that your
glory is such that it can only be seen at a distance, and loses when
regarded, too nearly. Not so! But you would be hampered amongst us.
There is not space enough here for you to draw your sword freely. We are
adroit, strange, and complicated. You are simple, and in that lies your
greatness. We belong to our time, you have the honour to be an
anachronism. You would be useless to your friends, destructive to
yourself. What would you, a giant fighting with the sword, do against
dwarfs who have cannon? You are courageous, but they are cunning, and
would conquer you. For the sake of the nineteenth century you must not
be vanquished. Do not come; in your simplicity you would be caught in
the spider's web of clever mediocrity, and your grand efforts to tear
yourself free would only be laughed at. Great man, you would be treated
like a pigmy."

It is probable, however, that if I held such a discourse to General
Garibaldi, Ge