Most Christian King was extremely difficult. He assured his old associates that he had accepted the portfolio only out of devotion to the interests of the Revolution, which doubtless was true, in a sense; for with those interests his own were bound up. He desired to pursue a policy of moderation; to adopt, in Burke's phrase, healing measures.' Unquestionably that would have been the wisest course both for the country and for the Bourbons; but with such a policy, with such measures, the triumphant loyalists had no sympathy. The tide of reaction was flowing strongly; and Fouché, with all his ability, could not dictate to it 'Thus far shalt thou go, and no further.' The regicide, the Conventional, the ex-Jacobin, the Minister of Napoleon, was obliged to proscribe, almost at hazard, no small number of his former colleagues, revolutionary and Bonapartist; the Royal Ordinance by which this was effected bears his counter-signature. It is true that he did his best to enable some of them to escape; but his pity, if pity it can be called, was largely flavoured with contempt. Où veux-tu que j'aille, traître ?' Carnot is said to have asked him, the reply being, 'Où tu voudras, imbécile.' For the rest, it cannot be denied that Fouché, in his circulars to the prefects and in other official documents, spoke the language of an enlightened statesman as to the policy required by France.

This policy had, for a time, the support of the King. M. Madelin says, 'Fouché's firmness without violence, his sang-froid, the governmental tact which never left him, his perfect knowledge of public affairs, of the men about him, of the French character, astonished and reassured the revenants from Coblenz and Hartwell, ignorant of the things of their epoch and of their country, of the new institutions, of the new traditions' (ii, 464). It is certain that, in the months of July and August 1815, both Louis XVIII and the Comte d'Artois had confidence in him. It is certain that he had full confidence in himself. He despised 'the ultra-loyalists '-this was the name he invented for them-as utterly destitute of political sense, as having learnt nothing and forgotten nothing; and he was right. He was wrong in underestimating them, for they represented, stupidly enough, moral forces; the might of such forces, indeed, he did not understand. But just at this period his mind was occupied with his second

marriage. He was now fifty-six, and appears for the first time in his life to have experienced the tender passion, for his laideron of a first wife, whatever her merits, can hardly have inspired it. The second Duchess of Otranto was Mlle Gabrielle de Castellane, a daughter of one of the most ancient and honourable houses of Provence. She was young-twenty-six-beautiful and charmingly clever; and she fell under the spell which Fouché, notwithstanding his unprepossessing exterior, unquestionably exercised over women.† She was for the rest of his life his faithful and devoted companion. The wedding was celebrated with much pomp, the King himself—it was held a great honour-signing the marriage contract.

This took place on August 1. Ten days afterwards Fouché was elected to the new Chamber for three constituencies. He was now at the apogee of his career. And what a career, if we look back on it! A devout Oratorian, a violent apostle of Atheism, a bitter persecutor of those whose faith he had professed and shared, a profaner of churches, and steeped in all kinds of sacrilege, a missionary of Communism, a murderer not only of his Sovereign but of thousands of guiltless people, a multimillionaire by means of secret speculations and scarcely avowable profits, the creature of Barras and Sieyès, one of whom he betrayed on the eve and the other on the morrow of Brumaire, a Napoleonic Minister and Duke and a traitor to the Emperor; and now Secretary of State to the Most Christian King, the hope, the great resource of capitalists, the friend of dignified ecclesiastics, the favoured guest at aristocratic houses, and the husband of a lady of great personal charms belonging to one of the noblest of them. Apostate, regicide, homicide, traitor, he might well have questioned the existence of justice in the world's affairs; he might well have regarded himself as an exception to the rule that retribu

* Mlle de Castellane' (writes the Baron Despatys), 'l'avait séduit par sa grâce, son charme et sa distinction; elle était pauvre mais jolie, remplie d'esprit, d'une grande vertu, estimée et adulée de tous ceux qui l'approchaient' ('Un Ami de Fouché,' p. 426). And he observes, quite justly, regarding some malicious reports spread concerning her in 1818 (as to which see Madelin, ii, 519), ce ne furent là que des bruits sans fondement' (ib. p. 12).

+ M. Bardoux remarks (Madame de Custine,' p. 255), 'Il était fort épris de sa beauté, et elle fort éprise de son esprit.'

tion, however halting her foot, does overtake crime. But at last the sword suspended for so long over his impious neck, and ever dreaded by him, was about to fall. The elections of August 1815, which had returned him for three constituencies, had returned also a vast majority of ultra-loyalists who were bent upon his overthrow.* The Chamber was too violent in its hatred and its fanaticism to tolerate a regicide Minister; and two of Fouché's colleagues, Talleyrand and Pasquier, who, though not regicides, were regarded by the ultras as little less abominable, were only too glad to make him a scapegoat. He defended himself with his accustomed energy and astuteness, but without success. The Duke of Wellington interposed in vain on his behalf with Louis XVIII. The most influential members of the Chamber protested against the presence on the ministerial bench of this wretch loaded with crime and shame.' A more powerful adversary still was Louis XVI's daughter, the Duchess of Angoulême-'the only man of her family,' Napoleon called her-who emphatically declared that she would not receive this murderer of her father, notwithstanding that he was a Minister of the King. Louis XVIII, in spite of vast obligations to Fouché, bowed before the storm. Talleyrand, the President of the Council, resolved on sacrificing him ; and the rest of the Ministry cheerfully consented. On September 15, a Royal Ordinance was published appointing him ambassador at Dresden. It

* Curiously enough, this result was due to a want of prevision curious in so cautious a man. French elections were largely determined then, as they are now, by the wire-pulling of the party in power. It is not open to doubt that Fouché, if he had used the means at his command 'pour faire la Chambre,' as the phrase is, might have secured the return of a very different assembly. But he did not use them. Why? Cherchez-moi la femme.' He was enamoured of a singularly attractive young lady and was occupied with the arrangements for his approaching marriage with her. But Talleyrand, the head of the Ministry? He also left the elections uncontrolled, and for a similar reason. So Fouché transfers the blame to 'l'incurie nonchalante du président du conseil, qui se berçait d'illusions sensuelles' ('Mémoires,' ii, 383), the object of these amorous imaginings being his niece by marriage, the Duchesse de Dino, whose relations with him,' to use a French phrase, date from that time.

+ Fouché tells us in his 'Memoirs' that the origin of the Duke's interest in him was dans l'empressement que je mis, lors de mon second ministère, à faire cesser la captivité d'un membre de cette famille honorable détenu en France par suite des mesures rigoureuses qu'avait ordonnées Napoléon' ('Memoirs,' ii, 324). But there can be no doubt that the Duke, apart from this, entertained the highest estimate of Fouché's political sagacity.

was an expatriation. The law of amnesty (oddly so called), passed shortly afterwards, changed it into exile. Fouché ceased to be ambassador. He was civilly dead. The catastrophe was as sudden as it was complete. One thinks of the words of the Psalmist: 'I myself also have seen the ungodly in great power and flourishing like a green bay-tree: I went by, and lo, he was gone: I sought him, but his place could nowhere be found.'

No: his place could nowhere be found. For the remaining five years of his life, Fouché was a wanderer in the Austrian Empire, occupied in futile schemes for returning to France and to public life there. The devotion of his young and charming wife, his daily intercourse with his children, whom he tenderly loved -he was ever a man of strong family affections-the various resources which his immense fortune placed at his command, were unable adequately to console him. He was tormented by what M. Madelin calls 'le prurit de pouvoir.' In 1820 he died at Trieste, where for some time he had resided, having received, it is said, the last sacraments of the Catholic Church.

Not

And now, what is the key to his career? I think we may find it in Pope's doctrine of the Ruling Passion. Fouché's Ruling Passion unquestionably was the lust of power. It was a passion which completely dominated him, altogether atrophying his moral sense. naturally cruel, this passion renders him quite callous to all considerations of humanity; men are 'impotent pieces in the game he plays.' Not naturally avaricious, he heaps up riches by questionable means; for he well knows that they are a mighty engine to serve this passion. In comparison with it, truth, honour, loyalty are to him as the small dust of the balance. Unfettered by the sense of crime, to whom a conscience never wakes,' we must say of this greatest Statesman of the Revolutionary epoch. And, it may be added, we must say the same of Napoleon, its greatest General.

W. S. LILLY.

Art. 12.-THE POLITICAL SITUATION IN THE UNITED STATES.

ON November 5 the United States will see the end of one of the most remarkable political campaigns in its history. As the voters cast their ballots, they will decide a contest sensational in its incidents and its defiance of tradition, and spectacular in the personality and tactics of one of its central figures. But they will also pass judgment on far greater issues than the rivalry of parties or the aims of private ambition; they will determine questions that go to the very heart of the commonwealth and affect the future of democracy itself. For a new force has arisen in American public life, and a new determination to secure for the people at large the benefits promised to their forefathers as they went to that new land, which in some way or other have been slipping from their grasp; and the feeling is widespread that the government which should protect the ordinary citizen is used against him, and that his lot is becoming harder day by day. A new party has, consequently, appeared, which in desperation has trampled down the old political divisions, cast aside the corrupt party machinery and advocated the most radical remedies. It may not succeed, it is true; it may, indeed, as many judicious observers believe, be running after strange gods; but what it is doing now will leave an indelible mark on American history, and may, for good or evil, influence the course of popular government throughout the world.

The deep-seated sense of grievance has called into activity a class of men and women who for years have taken no prominent part in politics; and the zeal that is in these reformers may save the movement in the end, in spite of a multitude of errors. Even their choice of a leader may not altogether ruin their prospects, though many who have admired him in the past cannot reconcile his record or his temperament with the part he has now elected to play. Theodore Roosevelt, twice President of the United States, has availed himself of the feeling of unrest to run again for office, and has not hesitated to hold up to scorn his friend and successor, and every one of his old colleagues who has not been able to follow him.