eba. He
escorted her to the Tuileries the very evening of her marriage. There he
took his leave of her. "You are now," he said, "placed so high that I can
only admire you from below." And I do not believe that they have met
since.

'Merimee took a less sentimental view of the change. He acknowledged his
Empress in his former plaything, subsided from a sort of stepfather into
a courtier, and so rose to honour and wealth, while V. is satisfied to
remain an ex-professor and _un homme de lettres_.'

* * * * *

We met Henri Martin, and I asked Tocqueville what he thought of his
History.

'It has the merit of selling,' he said, 'which cannot be said of any
other History of France. Martin is laborious and conscientious, and does
not tell a story ill; but he is a partisan and is always biassed by his
own likings and dislikings. He belongs to the class of theorists,
unfortunately not a small one, whose political _beau ideal_ is the
absence of all control over the will of the people-who are opposed
therefore to an hereditary monarchy-to a permanent President--to a
permanent magistracy-to an established Church--in short, to all
privileged classes, bodies, or institutions. Equality, not liberty or
security, is their object. They are centralisers and absolutists. A
despotic Assembly elected by universal suffrage, sitting at most for a
year, governing, like the Convention, through its committees, or a single
despot, appointed for a week, and not re-eligible, is the sort of ruler
that they would prefer. The last five years have perhaps disgusted Martin
with his Asiatic democracy, but his earlier volumes are coloured
throughout by his prejudices against all systems implying a division of
power, and independent authorities controlling and balancing one
another.'

We talked of the Secret Police.

'It has lately,' said Tocqueville, 'been unusually troublesome, or rather
it has been troublesome to a class of persons whom it seldom ventures to
molest. A friend of mine, M. Sauvaire Barthelemy, one of Louis Philippe's
peers, was standing at the door of his hotel reading a letter. A
gentleman in plain clothes addressed him, announced himself as an _agent
de police_, and asked him if the letter which he was reading was
political. "No," said Barthelemy, "you may see it. It is a _billet de
mariage." "I am directed," said the agent, "to request you to get into
this carriage." They got in and drove to Mazas. T