CHAPTER VI.
THE MYSTERY THICKENS.
M. Dantes' wonderful speech was the principal topic of conversation inevery quarter of Paris, exciting comment of the most animateddescription. Of course, the workmen and their friends were delightedwith it, and could not find words strong enough to adequately expresstheir enthusiastic admiration for the gifted orator. Those belonging tothe Government party, on the other hand, denounced the speaker as ademagogue and the speech as in the highest degree incendiary anddangerous. Strange to relate, whoever spoke of the oration alwaysmentioned the new play, "The Laborer of Lyons," attributing itsauthorship to the mysterious Deputy from Marseilles, and the dramareceived cordial endorsement or scathing censure, according to thepolitical opinions of those who alluded to it.
For these reasons curiosity in regard to M. Dantes ran higher than ever,but instead of decreasing as he became more prominent, the mysterysurrounding him seemed only to thicken. Nevertheless, the Deputy was thelion of the hour, or rather would have been, had he permitted himself tobe lionized, but this he persistently declined to do, holding aloof fromsociety and mingling with none save his political associates, thougheven to them he was a problem they could not solve; they, however,recognized in him a powerful coadjutor, and with that were forced to becontent.
"THE HALL OF THE CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES was last evening thronged to overflowing. It had been understood that M. Dantes was to advocate the People's Bill, and, as usual, it had but to be known that this distinguished orator was to occupy the tribune to draw out all classes of citizens. Nor was the vast multitude disappointed. A more powerful speech has never been heard within those walls. More than four hours was the audience enchained by the matchless eloquence of this remarkable man, which was received with thunders of applause. A report of this speech will be found under the appropriate head."
"THE NEW PLAY entitled, 'The Laborer of Lyons,' recently produced at the Theatre Francais with triumphant success, and which has caused such a deep and universal sensation, is repeated to-night. There is reason to anticipate that the author, who is supposed to be a celebrated orator of the opposition, may be induced to comply with the call, which will be again renewed, to avow himself."
Such were two paragraphs which the following morning appeared inBeauchamp's journal, and similar notices of both speech and drama werepublished in every other opposition sheet in Paris. In the Ministerialorgan, on the contrary, and in all the papers of like political bias,appeared the following and similar paragraphs:
"THE SPEECH OF M. DANTES, last evening, in the Chamber of Deputies, was one of the most dangerous diatribes to which we ever listened--dangerous for the insidious and sophistical principles it advanced, and the almost fiend-like eloquence with which they were urged. Where are these things to stop? At what terrible catastrophe do these men aim? What crisis do they contemplate?"
"THE NEW DRAMA at the Theatre Francais, called 'The Laborer of Lyons,' which is to-night to be repeated, is calculated and seems to have been designed by its reckless author to produce the very worst effects among the laboring classes. We deeply regret that it has been suffered by the censors to be brought out."
The multitude called forth by paragraphs like these to witness the newplay was, of course, immense. Long before the time for the curtain torise, the vast edifice was crowded to its utmost capacity with an eagerand enthusiastic assemblage. Not only were the galleries, parquette andlobbies filled with blouses, but the boxes were glittering with aperfect galaxy of fashion, loveliness and rank. Conspicuous in theorchestra stalls were the three friends--the Secretary, the journalistand the Deputy. In a small and private loge in the second tier,concealed from all eyes by its light curtain of green silk, and itsposition, but himself viewing everything upon the stage or in the house,sat the author of the play, calmly awaiting the rising of the curtain.
The performance at length began, and the piece proceeded to itstermination amid thunders of applause, which, as the curtain finallydescended on the last scene of the last act, became perfectly deafening,accompanied by cries for the author. But no author appeared behind thefootlights or in the proscenium box; and, at last, the uproar becomingredoubled, the manager came forward, and, in the author's behalf,tendered grateful acknowledgments for the unprecedented favor, even by aParisian audience, with which the production had been received, but, atthe same time, entreated the additional favor that they would grant theauthor's request, and permit his name, for the present, to remainunknown. He would, however, venture to reveal this much, that the authorwas a distinguished friend of the people. The earthquake of applausewhich succeeded this announcement was almost frightful, and while thescene was at its height, the three friends with great difficulty managedto extricate themselves from the multitude which wedged up the lobbies,and to make their escape.
"A friend of the people!" cried Debray, bitterly, as his coupe,containing himself and companions, drove off to Very's. "From suchfriends let the people be saved, and they may save themselves from theirfoes."
"And the play, what think you of that?" cried Beauchamp.
"That it is a most able and abominable production, eminently calculatedto cause exactly the evils which we have this night perceived--to exciteand rouse the worst passions of the mob, and render the massesdissatisfied with their inevitable and irredeemable lot, and asdangerous as wild beasts to all whose lot is more favored."
"Man has rights as man, and men in masses have rights, and one of thoserights is to know actually what those rights are," said Beauchamp. "Themost melancholy feature in the oppression of man is his ignorance thathe is oppressed. Enlighten him as to those rights, elevate his mind toappreciate and value them, and then counsel him firmly and resolutely todemand those rights, and quietly and wisely to obtain them."
"Aye! but will he obey such counsel?" exclaimed Chateau-Renaud. "Willnot the result of such enlightenment and excitement prove, as it everhas proved, anarchy, revolution, guilt, blood? Who shall restrain themonster once lashed into madness?"
"But you can surely perceive no such design in this play, and no sucheffect," rejoined Beauchamp.
"In the abstract," replied the Count, "this production isunexceptionable--most beautiful, yet most powerful. How it could havebeen the work of an unpracticed pen, embodying as it does passages ofwhich the first dramatists of the romantic school might be proud, Icannot imagine. Besides, there seems familiar acquaintance with stageeffect and the way in which it is produced. But that might have been,and probably was, the result of some professional player's suggestions."
"And, then, the profound knowledge of the human heart evinced--itspassions, motives and principles of action," added the journalist."There seems an individuality, a personality in the production, whichcompels the idea that the author is himself the hero, that he hashimself experienced the evils he so vividly portrays, that the drama isat once the effusion of his own heart and the embodiment of his ownhistory. Can that man be M. Dantes?"
"If it be he," cried the Secretary, "there is more reason than ever tocall him the most dangerous man in Paris. What with his speeches in theChamber and his plays at the theatre, all tending to one mostunrighteous end, and all aiming to inflame such an explosive mass as theworkmen of Paris, he may be regarded as little less than the very agentof the fiend to accomplish havoc on earth!"
"Yet, strange to say, my dear Secretary," said the journalist,laughing, "you have not yet estimated the tithe of this man's influencefor good, or, as you think, for evil. Rumor proclaims him to be asimmensely opulent as appearances would indicate him to be impoverished.That his whole soul, as you say, is devoted to the people, with all hiswonderful powers of mind and person, is undoubted. That he has availedhimself of that grand lever, the press, to accomplish his purposes, bethey good or bad, seems equally certain. 'La Reforme,' the new daily, isundoubtedly under his control, if not sustained by his pen and hispurse, for it
has a wider circulation than all the other Parisian papersput together. It goes everywhere--it seeks the alleys, not theboulevards, finds its way to the threshold of all, whether paid for ornot."
"Ah!" cried Debray, in great agitation. "Is it so?"
"And, then, not only is the public press subsidized by this man, ifreport is not even falser than usual, but a whole army of pamphleteers,journalists, litterateurs and students await his bidding, as well assome of the most distinguished novelists and dramatists of the nationand age!"
"My God!" exclaimed the Count. "Can this be so?"
"Nay--nay," replied Beauchamp, "I make no assertions, I merely retailrumors. But what cannot uncounted wealth achieve, directed by genius andintelligence?"
"But is this man actually so wealthy?" asked Debray, pale withagitation. "His manners, dress, equipage, residence and mode of lifewould indicate just the reverse."
"I know not--no one knows," said Beauchamp. "It is only known to myselfand to a few others that he dwells in the mansion No. 27 Rue du Helder,formerly the residence of the Count de Morcerf, and that his privateapartment is that pavilion at the corner of the court, where athalf-past ten, on the morning of the 21st of May, 1838, we breakfastedwith our amiable friend Albert, and were met by that remarkable man, theCount of Monte-Cristo."
"I remember that morning well," said Chateau-Renaud.
"Everything, it is said, remains in that once splendid mansion preciselyas when it was deserted by the Countess and her son, at the time of thesuicide of the Count--everything except that glorious picture of theCatalan fisherman by Leopold Robert, in Albert's exquisite chamber,which alone he took with him."
"It is strange that a man so opulent as you represent M. Dantes to be,should adopt his magnificence at second hand," observed Debray, coolly.
"But I do not represent him as opulent, my dear Lucien; and he certainlyis the last man either to invent magnificence or to adopt it. Why, he isas plain in manners and mode as St. Simon himself. His dress you haveseen; as to equipage his only conveyance is a public fiacre; as todiet, household arrangements and everything else of a personal nature,nothing can be more republican and less epicurean than is witnessed athis house. His study, Albert de Morcerf's pavilion, is said to be theonly sumptuous apartment in the whole establishment; and thatsumptuousness is of a character entirely literary and practical. Hisretinue consists of three servants, called Baptistin, Bertuccio and Ali,the latter being a Nubian, although fame gives him a perfect army ofservitors prompt to execute his bidding. But I will not indulge yourskeptical and sarcastic nature, Lucien, with a detail of all that rumorsays of this wonderful man. I will only say that all he is, and has orhopes for seems devoted to one single object--the welfare of his race."
"Has he a wife?" asked Debray.
"He is a widower, with two children, a young girl, called Zuleika, and ayouthful son, called Esperance. But my acquaintance with him is whollyof a public character. I have never been in his house, and very fewthere are who have been. But here we are."
And the coupe stopped at Very's.