These two promises are for ever clashing with each other; it cannot be otherwise.  To live upon credit, which is the same as exhausting the future, is certainly a present means of reconciling them:  an attempt is made to do a little good now, at the expense of a great deal of harm in future.  But such proceedings call forth the spectre of bankruptcy, which puts an end to credit.  What is to be done then?  Why, then, the new Government takes a bold step; it unites all its forces in order to maintain itself; it smothers opinion, has recourse to arbitrary measures, ridicules its former maxims, declares that it is impossible to conduct the administration except at the risk of being unpopular; in short, it proclaims itself governmental.  And it is here that other candidates for popularity are waiting for it.  They exhibit the same illusion, pass by the same way, obtain the same success, and are soon swallowed up in the same gulf.

We had arrived at this point in February.[5] At this time, the illusion which is the subject of this article had made more way than at any former period in the ideas of the people, in connexion with Socialist doctrines.  They expected, more firmly than ever, that Government, under a republican form, would open in grand style the source of benefits and close that of taxation.  “We have often been deceived,” said the people; “but we will see to it ourselves this time, and take care not to be deceived again?”

What could the Provisional Government do?  Alas! just that which always is done in similar circumstances—­make promises, and gain time.  It did so, of course; and to give its promises more weight, it announced them publicly thus:—­“Increase of prosperity, diminution of labour, assistance, credit, gratuitous instruction, agricultural colonies, cultivation of waste land, and, at the same time, reduction of the tax on salt, liquor, letters, meat; all this shall be granted when the National Assembly meets.”

The National Assembly meets, and, as it is impossible to realise two contradictory things, its task, its sad task, is to withdraw, as gently as possible, one after the other, all the decrees of the Provisional Government.  However, in order somewhat to mitigate the cruelty of the deception, it is found necessary to negotiate a little.  Certain engagements are fulfilled, others are, in a measure, begun, and therefore the new administration is compelled to contrive some new taxes.

Now, I transport myself, in thought, to a period a few months hence, and ask myself, with sorrowful forebodings, what will come to pass when the agents of the new Government go into the country to collect new taxes upon legacies, revenues, and the profits of agricultural traffic?  It is to be hoped that my presentiments may not be verified, but I foresee a difficult part for the candidates for popularity to play.

Read the last manifesto of the Montagnards—­that which they issued on the occasion of the election of the President.  It is rather long, but at length it concludes with these words:—­“Government ought to give a great deal to the people, and take little from them.”  It is always the same tactics, or, rather, the same mistake.