'In London,' I said, 'a few weeks ago I came across a French Socialist,
not indeed of the lower orders--for he was a Professor of
Mathematics--but participating in their feelings. "I prefer," he said, "a
Bonaparte to a Bourbon--a Bonaparte must rely on the people, one can
always get something out of him." "What have you got," I asked, "from
this man?" "A great deal," he answered. "We got the Orleans
confiscation--that was a great step. _Il portait attente à la propriété_.
Then he represents the power and majesty of the people. He is like the
people, above all law. _Les Bourbons nous chicanaient._"'

'That was the true faith of a Rouge,' said Tocqueville 'If this man,' he
added, 'had any self-control, if he would allow us a very moderate degree
of liberty, he might enjoy a reign--probably found a dynasty. He had
everything in his favour; the prestige of his name, the acquiescence of
Europe, the dread of the Socialists, and the contempt felt for the
Republicans. We were tired of Louis Philippe. We remembered the _branche
aînée_ only to dislike it, and the Assembly only to despise it. We never
shall be loyal subjects, but we might have been discontented ones, with
as much moderation as is in our nature.'

'What is the _nuance_,' I said, 'of G----?'

'G----,' answered Tocqueville, 'is an honest man, uncorrupt and
public-spirited; he is a clear, logical, but bitter speaker; his words
fall from the tribune like drops of gall. He has great perspicacity, but
rather a narrow range. His vision is neither distant nor comprehensive.
He wears a pair of blinkers, which allow him to see only what he looks
straight at--and that is the English Constitution. For what is to the
right and to the left he has no eyes, and unhappily what is to the right
and to the left is France.