Chapter 195: The Empty Seat of the Little Giant (2)
Chapter 195: The Empty Seat of the Little Giant (2)
Versailles Palace.
Office of the President of the National Assembly.
“‘Your Excellency the President’? If I keep hearing that, I’ll die from embarrassment. Just call me President.”
“The title ‘Deputy’ is just as embarrassing.”
“Very well. Since it’s only the two of us here, let’s speak comfortably. What do you think, Georges?”
“Very well, President Mirabeau.”
The two men already knew each other.
Georges Danton.
He had once worked for the political journal Free France, which Mirabeau had supported for many years.
He was the man who led the people in storming the Bastille prison, the leader of the conservative faction within the left-wing Mountain faction, and the political partner of Robespierre, the leader of the Mountain faction.
…And if one were to describe him in a bit more detail, he was a man who took his share but remained relatively clean.
Even the most finely crafted machine cannot run without lubrication. Likewise, for the stiff gears of France to turn, men like Danton were necessary.
Men as rigid as Robespierre were necessary for this land—but someone must also serve as fertilizer to keep the bamboo from snapping.
“My wife gave birth to our third child recently. Thankfully the midwife and doctor arrived quickly. Otherwise it could have been disastrous.”
“Well, that’s fortunate.”
“Indeed. But all’s well that ends well. Both my wife and the baby are healthy now, so I’m relieved.”
The two acquaintances exchanged small talk for quite some time before approaching the real subject.
Eventually Danton spoke.
“By the way.”
“Yes? Go on.”
“Shouldn’t you tell me why you summoned me, President?”
“…First, have a drink.”
Mirabeau rose from his seat and exercised one of the privileges of being President of the National Assembly—taking out cognac from the library full of books without worrying about anyone watching.
He placed two glasses on the table.
Pour.
The amber liquid aged for twenty years filled the glasses. As the sunset streamed through the windows, the entire office glowed crimson.
“Beautiful.”
“Yes. Beautiful. Now—cheers.”
The glasses clinked lightly, and both men emptied them neatly.
“Ah. Excellent liquor. Where did you find something like this?”
“When you sit in the President’s chair, people insist on giving you things whether you want them or not.”
“Isn’t that corruption?”
“It’s not corruption if you don’t return the favor.”
“Is that really how it works?”
Mirabeau placed his empty glass on the table and spoke to the short but intimidating man before him.
“Georges.”
“Yes, President.”
“Are you satisfied with the current state of France?”
“Satisfied… you say.”
“Yes. Satisfied.”
Danton lowered his head briefly before raising it again.
“No.”
“Is that so? Then what dissatisfies you?”
“I dislike that we still must serve a monarch above us.”
“I see.”
This time Mirabeau lowered his head briefly before speaking.
“Then tell me, Danton. What is the ideal you envision?”
“A republic.”
“More correct than a constitutional monarchy?”
“I believe a republic is the most correct.”
“I see.”
Mirabeau rose.
“Shall we step outside and walk for a moment? The sunset is beautiful.”
“Of course.”
The two men left the office and began walking through the vast gardens of the Palace of Versailles.
As winter approached, most of the flowers had long since withered. But the sunset reflecting on the fountains colored everything in orange-red hues.
“How do you view that young man, Guillaume?”
“He’s an extraordinary young man.”
“I mean more specifically.”
“Hmm… intelligent, exemplary, and…”
“A bold one.”
“Yes. Bold.”
Mirabeau walked slowly as he spoke.
“He’s different from us. He believes in the future. He believes that everything will ultimately work out. At first I thought it was simply youthful confidence, but lately I sometimes feel the source of that belief is mysterious.”
“Is that so?”
“It’s as if he possesses infinite certainty in the choices he makes.”
“That simply means he’s brilliant.”
“Yes. That may be so.”
In any case, Mirabeau continued.
“You may not know this, but my time is nearly up.”
“P-President! What an irreverent thing to say!”
“You know that I collapsed recently.”
“…Yes. But wasn’t it merely overwork?”
“That’s what they told the public. The doctors say there’s a problem with my heart.”
“Your… heart?”
“Yes. My heart.”
Mirabeau looked toward the horizon where sky and earth met.
“Georges, you said earlier that you want a republic.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe a republic is wrong. But if we declare a republic now, we will have to fight every monarch in Europe.”
“Ha! If Europe’s monarchs come for us, we’ll simply crush their hands!”
“And who will crush those hands? Will you ride out yourself and cut off their heads?”
“….”
“Georges. Fear the position of politician. The words of a common man and the words of a politician carry different weight.”
Mirabeau pulled a silver object from his pocket and handed it to Danton.
A silver medal adorned with the tricolor.
“Do you recognize it?”
“This… isn’t this the medal the citizens of Paris gave that man Orléans four years ago? How do you have it?”
“I met the Crown Prince a few days ago. He had it—Orléans discarded it. The prince is very favorable toward constitutional monarchy and the revolution.”
“…I see.”
“Danton, admit it. A republic is too early. Many people still find nothing strange about a monarch ruling the nation. If we follow your path, the country will split in two.”
Bloodshed washing away blood.
“After I die, such things may happen.”
“Surely that’s an exaggeration…”
“Perhaps it is. If I was exaggerating, then think of it later as the ramblings of a senile old man. But if it is not…”
Mirabeau placed a hand on Danton’s shoulder.
“Then you must stand in the middle and prevent it.”
“By ‘the middle,’ do you mean between the Plain faction and the Mountain faction?”
“Yes. Let them argue a little. Just a little. And besides—why fight when you have that talking magic lamp named Guillaume? If problems arise, rub the lamp and summon the genie.”
“Understood.”
“Yes. There must never be a moment when we point guns at one another. …Now go. I think you’ve paid the price for the free drink.”
“Yes, President. Rest well.”
After sending Danton away, Mirabeau returned to his office and sat down.
After a moment of thought, he dipped his pen in ink and began writing a letter. He filled an entire sheet quickly, then took another page.
This time he wrote slowly.
[Finance Minister. No—using a title even here feels cold. Writing “To Guillaume de Toulon” would take more time, so simply assume that’s what it means.
In my opinion, you are truly an extraordinary man. Whether you have seen the future or simply possess a remarkable mind, I cannot say.
In any case, you are probably the man in France who sees the future most clearly.
So if your clever head concludes that something truly terrible is about to happen, simply summon Danton and Sieyès and scold them. As you know, Robespierre is somewhat… frightening. Sometimes he seems more stubborn than I am, and I’m already fifty.
Lastly, I have prevented the conflict I feared from erupting—for now. That should qualify me for the Panthéon, I think. Or perhaps not.
In any case, whether France proceeds harmoniously or becomes something resembling purgatory now rests in your hands. I feel a bit guilty dumping this burden on a younger man, but if you dislike it you should have been born earlier.
Guillaume… I’m sleepy. Very tired.
Guillaume, please—never lose that good heart of yours. Take good care of this France… ]
The pen rolled from his hand and fell beneath the desk.
Mirabeau no longer moved.
[To the beloved citizens and people of France,
Thank you for granting me the honor and fulfillment of serving not subjects, but citizens, as a public servant. I, Honoré Gabriel Riqueti Mirabeau, have strived to work honorably for all free people living in this land.
I will not claim that I governed without a single mistake—our Finance Minister dislikes lies very much. Please understand that. Though the time was short, I am grateful to have served you.
A man named Mirabeau has lived a life full enough for ten lifetimes. I was chased by kings, pursued by nobles, hunted by foreign secret police. Smuggling and crossing borders became routine. It was a turbulent and difficult life.
Yet I am satisfied with it. In exchange for fifty years of hardship, I received the honor of writing the words liberty, equality, and fraternity into France’s constitution with my own hand.
There is only one concern that troubles me before I find rest.
Our homeland, France, is a nation born from resistance against tyranny and admired by people across the world.
It is a nation where countless patriots rose to defend it, and even now patriots keep vigil through the night for the sake of the country.
We thirty million French citizens now possess a parliament, deputies, wise politicians who listen to our voices, and the National Guard who keep watch over our borders even in the darkest night.
My concern is that someday we may abandon patriotism and instead embrace hostility, hatred, and violence.
If we fail to overcome differences in opinion and instead hide behind them to harm one another, the liberty, equality, and fraternity we achieved will lose their power and become nothing but hollow echoes.
Debate, compete, and criticize one another—but remain united.
Even if we differ slightly, we are all patriots. If we remember and trust that we all love this nation—France—we will overcome any hardship.
Though the path may be winding and uncomfortable, we will grow stronger, and our children will proudly look to us as examples.
Dear citizens and people, may you live well.
I, Mirabeau, was born in a France ruled by gloomy oppression and obedience, but I shall breathe my last in a France warmly embraced by Marianne, the proud goddess of liberty, equality, and fraternity.
Finally, to the comrades who fought beside me—thank you.
A grateful Mirabeau will warm your seats in heaven ahead of time. But please come late, very late.
May the Lord’s grace be with France and with all of you.]
November 16, 1793.
The little giant who waved the tricolor collapsed.