air and quiet submissiveness of
the child, but I had assumed the very extravagance of that democratic
insolence which was the mode among the leading characters of the time.
How should I present myself before him, the very impersonation of all
the vices against which he used to warn me--how exhibit the utter
failure of all his teachings and his hopes? What would this be but to
imbitter his reflections needlessly. Such were the specious reasons with
which I fed my self-love, and satisfied my conscience; but now, as I
read his name in that terrible catalogue, their plausibility served me
no longer, and at last I forgot myself to remember only him.
"I will see him at once," thought I, "whatever it may cost me--I will
stay beside him for his last few hours of life; and when he carries with
him from this world many an evil memory of shame and treachery,
ingratitude from me shall not increase the burden." And with this
resolve I turned my steps homeward.
CHAPTER III.
THE "TEMPLE."
At the time of which I write, there was but one motive-principle
throughout France--"TERROR." By the agency of terror and the threat of
denunciation was every thing carried on, not only in the public
departments of the state, but in all the common occurrences of every-day
life. Fathers used it toward their children--children toward their
parents; mothers coerced their daughters--daughters, in turn, braved the
authority of their mothers. The tribunal of public opinion, open to all,
scattered its decrees with a reckless cruelty--denying to-day what it
had decreed but yesterday, and at last obliterating every trace of
"right" or "principle," in a people who now only lived for the passing
hour, and who had no faith in the future, even of this world.
Among the very children at play, this horrible doctrine had gained a
footing; the tyrant urchin, whose ingenuity enabled him to terrorize,
became the master of his playfellows. I was not slow in acquiring the
popular education of the period, and soon learned that fear was a "Bank"
on which one might draw at will. Already the domineering habit had given
to my air and manner all the insolence of seeming power; and, while a
mere boy in years, I was a man in all the easy assumption of a certain
importance.
It was with a bold and resolute air I entered the restaurant, and
calling Boivin aside, said,
"I have business in the Temple this morning, Boivin; see to it that I
shall not be denied admitt
|