To ask a king to destroy the empire of a religion which consecrates him; to despoil of their riches a clergy who has them by the same divine title as that by which he has tenure of his kingdom; to degrade an aristocracy which is the first step of his throne; to throw down social hierarchies of which he is the head and crown; to undermine laws of which he is the highest,—­is to ask of the vaults of an edifice to sap the foundation.  The king could not do so, and would not.  In thus overthrowing all that serves him for support, he feels that he would be rendered wholly destitute.  He would be playing with his throne and dynasty.  He is responsible for his race.  He is prudent by nature, and a temporiser from necessity.  He must soothe, please, manage, and be on terms with all constituted interests.  He is the king of the worship, aristocracy, laws, manners, abuses, and falsehoods of the empire.  Even the vices of the constitution form a portion of his strength.  To threaten them is to destroy himself.  He may hate them:  he dares not to attack them.

XI.

A republic alone can suffice for such crises:  nations know this, and cling to it as their sole hope of preservation.  The will of the people becomes the ruling power.  It drives from its presence the timid, seeks the bold and the determined, summons all men to aid in the great work, makes trial of, employs, and combines the force, the devotion, the heroism of every man.  It is the populace that holds the helm of the vessel, on which the most prompt, or the most firm seizes, until it is again torn from him by a stronger hand.  But every one governs in the common name.  Private consideration, timidity of situation, difference of rank, all disappears.  No one is responsible—­to-day he rises to power—­to-morrow he descends to exile or the scaffold—­there is no morrow, all is to-day—­resistance is crushed by the irresistible power of movement.  All bends—­all yields before the people.  The resentments of castes—­the abolished forms of worship—­the decimation of property—­the extirpated abuses—­the humiliated aristocracies—­all are lost in the thundering sound of the overthrow of ancient ideas and things.  On whom can we demand revenge?  The nation answers for all to all, and no man has aught to require from it.  It does not survive itself, it braves recrimination and vengeance—­it is absolute as an element—­anonymous, as fatality—­it completes its work, and when that is ended, says, “Let us rest; and let us assume monarchy.”

XII.