In the second place, there is conclusive evidence to show that, to use the ordinary slang expression of the present day, the celebrated dagger letter was “faked.”  When Robespierre fell, Tallien never gave a thought to his mistress.  He still trembled for his own life.  “His sole aim was to make away with Robespierre’s papers.”  It was only on the 12th Thermidor—­that is to say, two days after Robespierre’s mangled head had been sheared off by the guillotine—­that, noting the trend of public opinion, and appreciating the capital which might be made out of the current myth, he hurried off to La Force and there concocted with his mistress the famous letter which he, of course, antedated.

The subsequent careers of Tallien and his wife—­for he married La Cabarrus in December 1794—­are merely characterised by a number of unedifying details.  The hero of this sordid tale passed through many vicissitudes.  He went with Napoleon to Egypt.  He was, on his return voyage, taken prisoner by an English cruiser.  On his arrival in London he was well received by Fox and the Whigs—­a fact which cannot be said to redound much to the credit either of the Whig party or its leader.  He gambled on the Stock Exchange, and at one time “blossomed out as a dealer in soap, candles, and cotton bonnets.”  After passing through an unhonoured old age, he died in great poverty in 1820.  The heroine became intimate with Josephine during Napoleon’s absence in Egypt, was subsequently divorced from Tallien, and later, after passing through a phase when she was the mistress of the banker Ouvrard, married the Prince of Caraman-Chimay.  Her conduct during the latter years of her life appears to have been irreproachable.  She died in 1835.

[Footnote 88:  The Life of Madame Tallien. By L. Gastine.  Translated from the French by J. Lewis May.  London:  John Lane. 12s. 6d. net.]

[Footnote 89:  The Last Phase, p. 203.]

XVIII

THE FUTURE OF THE CLASSICS

"The Spectator,” July 5, 1913

There was a time, not so very long ago, when the humanists enjoyed a practical monopoly in the domain of English education, and, by doing so, exercised a considerable, perhaps even a predominant, influence not only over the social life but also over the policy, both external and internal, adopted by their countrymen.  Like most monopolists, they showed a marked tendency to abuse the advantages of their position.  Science was relegated to a position of humiliating inferiority, and had to content itself with picking up whatever crumbs were, with a lordly and at times almost contemptuous tolerance, allowed to fall from the humanistic table.  Bossuet once defined a heretic as “celui qui a une opinion” ([Greek:  airesis]).  A somewhat similar attitude was at one time adopted to those who were inclined to doubt whether a knowledge of Latin and Greek could be considered the Alpha and