“Oh,” said Monsieur Roman, “it was infamous when it was known. Before, it was of no importance. If you wish to enjoy the benefit of being governed, which alone raises mankind above the animals, you must leave, to those who govern, the means of exercising power, and the first of these means is secrecy. That is why popular government, which is the least secret of all, is also the weakest. Do you then think, Monsieur l’Abbé, that you can govern men by virtue? That is a wild dream!” “I do not think so,” replied my good master, “I have noticed in the varied chances of my life that men are evil beasts; one can only control them by force and cunning. But one must be measured and not offend the small amount of good tendencies which mingles with the evil instincts in their minds. For after all, Monsieur, man, all cowardly, stupid, cruel, as he is was made in God’s image, and there remain to him still certain features of his primal shape. A government drawn from the common stock of average honesty, and that yet scandalises the people, should be deposed.” “Speak lower, Monsieur l’Abbé,” said the Secretary. “The King can do no wrong,” said Monsieur Roman, “and your maxims are seditious, Monsieur l’Abbé. You deserve, you and your like, not to be governed at all.” “Oh!” said my good master, “if, as you give us to understand, government consists in swindling, violence, and exactions of all kinds, there is not much fear that this threat will take effect, and we shall find, for long enough yet, ministers of State and governors of provinces to carry on our affairs. Only I should much like to see others in place of these. The new-comers could not be worse than the old, and who knows but that they may be even slightly better?” “Take care!” said Monsieur Roman, “take care! What is admirable in a state, is succession and continuity, and if there is no perfect state in this world, it is because, according to my idea, the flood in the time of Noah disordered the transmission of crowns. It is a confusion we have not quite set straight to this day.” “Monsieur,” retorted my good master, “you are amusing with your theories. The history of the world is full of revolutions. One sees but civil wars, tumults, and seditions, caused by the wickedness of princes, and I know not which to admire the most nowadays, the impudence of the rulers, or the patience of the people.” The secretary complained then that Monsieur l’Abbé Coignard overlooked the benefits of royalty, and Monsieur Blaizot represented to us that it was not fitting to contend about public matters in a bookseller’s shop. When we were outside, I pulled my good master by the sleeve. “Monsieur l’Abbé,” I said, “have you then forgotten the old woman of Syracuse, that you now want to change the tyrant?”