Clerambault's young friends were not sparing of their ideas, and it
surprised them to see how little warmth he showed towards the new idol
from the North: the rule of the proletariat. They had no timorous
scruples or half-measures, they meant to make the world happy in
their way--perhaps not in its own. At one stroke they decreed the
suppression of all liberties in opposition to theirs; the fallen
middle classes were not to be allowed to meet, or to vote, or to have
the freedom of the press.
"This is all very well," said Clerambault, "but at this rate they will be the new proletariat, tyranny will merely change places."
"Only for a time," was the answer, "the last oppression, which will kill tyranny."
"Yes, the same old war for right and liberty; which is always going to be the war to end war; but in the meantime it is stronger than ever, and rights like liberty are trampled under foot."
Of course they all protested indignantly against this comparison; in their eyes war and those who waged it were equally infamous.
"None the less," said Clerambault gently, "many of you have fought, and nearly all of you have believed in it ... no, do not deny it! Besides, the feeling that inspired you had its noble side; a great wickedness was shown to you, and you threw yourselves upon it to root it out, in a very fine spirit. Only you seem to think that there is only one wickedness in the world, and, that when that has been purged away, we shall all return to the Golden Age. The same thing happened at the time of the Dreyfus Case; all the well-meaning people of Europe--I among them--
