This historical tribute serves as a passionate defense of praising a monarch whose genuine virtues elevate him above the typical corruptions of absolute power. De Maistre highlights King Victor Amadeus III’s moral rectitude, personal humility, and deep commitment to family, contrasting his accessible nature with the decadent, isolated courts of other contemporary rulers. A central focus is the emotional account of the King’s historic visit to Savoy, where his decision to walk unguarded and interact directly with the common folk solidified an intense bond of mutual love, trust, and absolute loyalty between the sovereign and his subjects.
The text transitions into an analysis of the King’s administrative philosophy, celebrating his commitment to fiscal economy, legislative moderation, and public infrastructure development, such as bridges, dikes, and roads. De Maistre lauds a governance system that relies on questioning citizens from all walks of life to discern the truth, alongside an emphasis on rewarding military and civic service with honor rather than monetary wealth. The eulogy concludes with a fierce defense of the Savoyard character against moral slander, a celebration of the strategic royal marriage to Clotilde of France, and an earnest plea for the King to preserve peace amid European tensions while remaining a frequent, benevolent presence in the ancestral land of Savoy.
EULOGY OF VICTOR AMADEUS III, Duke of Savoy, King of Sardinia, Cyprus & Jerusalem, Prince of Piedmont, &c.
Praise is a crime when it is prostituted to vice; it is merely ridiculous when granted to mediocrity: but it is, undoubtedly, the sweetest of duties when it is the price of virtue. If flatterers had not debased this kind of tribute which should only be paid to merit, one could still, as in the past, praise without fear everything worthy of being so: but now that minds have lost all energy, all vigor, it seems that praise is no longer permitted, & that one must begin by insulting everything to dare claim the title of philosopher. Ah! if baseness did not go every day to burn incense on the altars of grandeur; if virtue, proud & unadorned, could walk with its head held high; if it were permitted to be truthful, how sweet it would be to pay homage to talents or to virtue! how beautiful it would be to see eloquence be nothing more than the interpreter of admiration or gratitude! But when strong souls begin to become rare, it is difficult to write a eulogy without appearing to degrade oneself. O philosopher! if you wish to praise, but above all if you wish to praise a King, take heed; people will immediately attribute to you the lowest views, the most despicable motives: they will say that you are chasing fortune, that you have joined that crowd of reptiles crawling at the foot of thrones, & that impure flattery has defiled your mouth, which you had consecrated to truth. But, what! if heaven, in its clemency, places an Agricola upon the throne, will he then find no Tacitus (*), & will the fear of being vile prevent you from being just? No, if virtue presents itself to your eyes, you will know how to pay it homage without exposing yourself to blushing, because your heart answers for you that you adore only her, & that you would courageously refuse to bend the knee before crowned vice. If anyone can praise a King, it is undoubtedly the obscure citizen, but firm & courageous, who expects nothing, who asks for nothing, who has never praised anything, who is content to love his master & serve him in silence, & who, still too young to know the maneuvers of protection & the intrigues of ambition, would not write a eulogy at all, if one could remain silent without ingratitude.
Peoples! whom heaven submitted to the laws of the best of masters, speak: do you not expect a faithful pen to raise a lasting monument to his glory, & take charge of announcing to Europe both his virtues & your love? Citizens! your expectation will not be disappointed, I am going to praise VICTOR. Forgive me if I am forced to put zeal in the place of talents. I was waiting, in my solitude, for a practiced orator to raise his voice; but finally, I shall speak, since silence is a crime: truth will dictate this eulogy; undoubtedly one will recognize in it the eloquence of the heart, & that manly & proud tone, which belongs only to the man who has never known how to disguise his sentiments, & who does not fear being proven wrong.
And you, cherished Prince & so worthy of being so! lend an ear to the voice of a child who praises his father: you have often heard that of interest, of politics & of ambition; even falsehood has not always remained silent before you. Listen, you are going to see how truth expresses itself: you will find here neither the blandness of panegyric, nor the falsely sublime tone of an apathetic eloquence. It is not to rank that I pay homage, it is to virtues: if my King were respectable only through royalty, I would know how to obey him, pity my country & remain silent: but even if his hands did not carry the scepter, one would take pride in being his friend, just as one takes pride in being his subject.
I will praise you then, amiable & sensitive Monarch; but I will praise only you: I would believe I was profaning your eulogy by mixing in it a foreign praise. I laugh at a self-interested orator, who, feigning to pay homage to his master, begs, in a studied panegyric, for subordinate protections: flattery is doubly despicable when it leans on the great to rise up to the Monarch.
(*) One may flatter oneself to have received from nature the heart of TACITUS; for, as for his genius, certainly no one has inherited it.
FIRST PART.
It is a common fault among almost all historians to rarely cast a philosophical eye on the character of the different actors who have played a role on the world stage. This defect is felt especially in those works intended more particularly to make us acquainted with famous men, when the author, lacking genius, imagines that it is unworthy of the majesty of history to dwell on the details of private life: it happens from this that we know the King, the warrior, the politician, & we do not know the man at all. The historian leads his hero to the battlefield, to the council, to the public square, & he abandons him at the door of his house… Ah! wretched writer! enter with him, follow him to the bosom of his family…: do you not see this cradle? do you not see this child who has freed his hands from the swaddling clothes, & who holds out his little arms to his father who has just returned? Well, what becomes of the great man? Did he throw himself on his knees? Did he lean over this cradle? Did paternal tears flow onto these swaddling clothes? Leave your sieges, your battles, & all these illustrious horrors there; show me the father, the husband, the friend; tell me if he loves his fellow men, & you will teach me afterwards if he knows how to send them to their deaths.
I will take good care not to fall into the defect that I reproach so many writers for. I take pleasure in stripping my King of all this grandeur which does not belong to him (for our virtues alone belong to us); I remove from him the imposing apparatus of royalty, & I find that the man is a thousand times more respectable than the Monarch. O virtue! I no longer sought you except in thatched cottages; you can therefore inhabit palaces; you can sit on the throne, & vice no longer has an asylum, since you are going to make it blush even in the courts.
The wise man shudders when he thinks of the deplorable condition of Kings who can do everything over us & nothing over themselves, who have never struggled against their passions, because the danger of them has been hidden from them, & who believe that everything is permitted to those who have nothing to fear. Alas! by what good fortune can they escape the traps that the wicked multiply under their steps? How to preserve oneself from the seduction that besieges them from all sides? Ambition, interest, pride, voluptuousness, all vices press upon the steps of the throne: if austere truth presents itself, it is repelled, it flees, it sinks into solitude, & to punish the Monarch, it never reappears. Citizens! this picture, trying for so many peoples, renews in your hearts the feeling of your felicity: it is from the shore that you see the storms; never did an iron yoke weigh down upon your unfortunate heads; never did you know the horrors of oppression, nor the destructive caprices of despotism. The reign of Victor is the reign of justice & morals. August & consoling spectacle! it is at court, it is in the bosom of grandeur that we are going to admire the candor, the piety, the conjugal love, & the ancient simplicity of our fathers: it is there that one does not blush at the names of father & husband; it is there that one is virtuous without pomp & without ostentation. My heart is moved when I see this numerous posterity, fruit of the most constant & most fortunate union; when I see the Queen’s eyes fixed on a cherished husband, & the tender anxiety that she would vainly wish to hide at the moment he departs. O sacred bonds of spouses! woe to the man who does not fear to profane you! But, if this man is born to command others, the scandal is at its height, & its ravages have no bounds: then voluptuousness emerges from the mud, & goes to sit proudly beside the Monarch: it presents him its cup; he becomes intoxicated, he falls asleep, his scepter escapes him & passes into the hands of the wicked: then palaces rise, & the peoples are crushed; an insolent luxury insults honorable poverty, corruption reaches all estates, one sees only slaves who incense the idol to obtain its favors: dignities, honors, employments become the price of infamy, & the furrows are watered with the tears of the poor, who harvest only to pay for vice.
Will I be permitted, after having fixed my imagination on these frightening images, to present to sensitive souls the interesting picture of good morals & innocence? Will I be permitted to make public a touching anecdote?… But what terms shall I use? To whom am I going to speak? What! in the eighteenth century I will praise the sweetness of conjugal love?… Well, yes, I will speak; & what should I fear? If anyone disapproves of this part of my discourse, I announce to him in advance that I despise him too much to fear his censure.
I was accompanying a young foreigner, whom curiosity led to the royal palace; menacing guards did not defend its entrance. “There,” I said to him, “there is the place where the Shepherd-King spends tranquil days, in the bosom of a cherished family; it is here that he meditates in silence on the needs of his » people, that he projects possible reforms, « & groans over inevitable abuses. Do you see this salon? It is there that the lowest of his subjects can come freely to attend his master’s meal, & become intoxicated with the pleasure of seeing him.” We reached the King’s cabinet.
“It is here (I said, approaching his table) that he often traces, with his own hand, orders for the happiness of his people.” We were about to leave. I do not see, the foreigner said to me, the King’s bed. Sir, I said to him, we do not know what the King’s bed is; but if you want to see that of the Queen’s Husband, let us pass into Ferdinande’s apartment… Forgive, great King, forgive me these details: it is my heart that dictates this eulogy to me. I paint your virtues as I see them, & those that I adore present themselves to my mind before those that I admire. I thank you, in the name of your people, that your life is a continuous protest against the enterprises of vice. I tremble when I see that the bonds of society are beginning to loosen among us. Fathers are less respectable, & sons less docile. People speak too much of politeness, & not enough of virtue. They discourse on population, & the calculations of egoism kill men before their birth. But, as long as the sovereign himself gives the signal for good morals, it will always be beautiful to be honest, & virtue will never have to blush. No people in the universe enjoys, in this regard, the same advantage as us; & in a long line of sovereigns, we alone can count a long line of wise men. Victor has succeeded to the virtues of his ancestors; but no one has carried so far as he sweetness, goodness, affability, love of justice, & respect for morals. It is under the eyes of the best of fathers that he learned the great art of reigning. He obeyed for forty years before seizing the reins of government; his mind matured through experience & long reflections: very different from those Kings who have always fled work, who reach the throne without certain principles, without views, without knowledge, & who only begin to reflect when the cry of the peoples announces to them that all is lost. Never, never will we have to dread such misfortunes. The King knows that voluntary ignorance, among the masters of the universe, is as inexcusable as tyranny, & that God will demand an account from them of the evils they have done; & of the good they could have done: penetrated by this maxim, he seeks only the truth, he asks for it, he calls for it with loud cries; & everyone can tell it. This system, from which the King will never deviate, ensures our felicity forever. In general, one has almost nothing to fear from sovereigns; for those who desire evil are monsters, whom God sends only rarely in his anger: it is the subaltern tyrants who cause the misfortune of nations; & they can do nothing among us. This crushing word, I will go tell the King, would stop the most illustrious & most intrepid scoundrel: an unfortunate man, embittered by injustice, could, without difficulty, present himself to his master, & ask him for vengeance; & the powerful guilty one would be forced to go turn pale before this man whom he saw the day before in the mud.
It is here that I call to witness all those who have had the good fortune to approach the King: can one form the idea of a more easy, more gracious approach? One looks for the King; one sees only the father; I will say better, the friend. If it is an unfortunate whom misfortune brings to his feet, the gentle & obliging voice of the sensitive Monarch will revive this heart withered by grief: it is the tone of tenderness, & the enchanting air of beneficence. But, if someone goes to report an injustice to him; if one complains that his orders are not executed, & that a citizen suffers by the fault of another, then his eyes ignite, his voice rises; he will say like HENRI IV: to attack my people is to attack me; & everything will return to order. He does not disdain to descend to the smallest details. If he grants a favor, one reads on his face that he congratulates himself on having made someone happy; if he refuses it, one is persuaded that it is because he ought not to grant it. If he advances in the midst of his courtiers, the man, who has never seen him; looks for him with his eyes, & does not know how to distinguish him: it is always some Hephaestion that one takes for Alexander, because one falsely imagines that the imprint of pride must be found on the face of a King. Does one want to know how he received a former Magistrate, a faithful subject, whom a slight indisposition had prevented, for some time, from going to pay homage to the father of the country: Sit down, he said to him; I know that you have been unwell; & there is the subject seated before his master, who deigns to pour out his heart, & speak to him of his people. The great & the small, he said to him, all are equal in my eyes; I am the father of all my subjects indistinctly; I owe them all justice & protection. There is, (let me be forgiven this expression) there is the confession of faith of a beneficent Monarch.
It was undoubtedly this sentiment that animated him, when he passed under this triumphal arch that had been raised for him at the extremity of his states. He read in the pediment optimo Regi. How I would like, he said, to merit this title! Your wishes are fulfilled, great King! this title that you aspire to, we have given it to you by unanimous acclamation: here you are now arrived at the height of glory, & your heart can rest. O how beautiful it is, how sweet it is to be called the very good King! all titles disappear before that one.
When men, in the infancy of the world, wanted to give a name to the Supreme Being, the infallible instinct of nature taught them to call him THE VERY GOOD GOD; & men, of all centuries, have consecrated this name as if in concert. Their minds saw nothing beyond; for weak beings, who fear only pain, need only goodness. Princes! you are the images of God on earth: do you want to draw closer to your model, be good; make your power felt only by your benefits: if the divinity announced itself only by thunderbolts, it would be feared without being loved.
Let us say it boldly, because nothing is more true: the virtue dearest to VICTOR’s heart is goodness. He has just given striking proofs of it in the journey he made to the frontier of his states. The banks of the Rhône saw him listen attentively to the counselors of a parish exposed to the ravages of this river, ask for instructions, promise aid, and urge the construction of a necessary dike. A troop of peasants surrounds the Monarch; they are astonished to see themselves consulted, & return to their families to speak with emotion of this good master, who has the courage to seek truth under the thatched roof. People press along his path; they surround him; the herdsman comes to present him with the nectar of Chautagne; he does not disdain simple dishes, prepared by frugality, & presented by love. He advances as far as Seyssel. To the cries of joy & gratitude, which resound to the other bank, the nobility of France crosses the borders, & comes to pay him homage. One no longer doubts Clotilde’s happiness, when one knows the hands that formed her husband. Finally, the King departs; he returns always surrounded by his people, who show him their affection… Victor! Victor! the voice of flatterers arouses both the wrath of God & the mockery of the wise; but the blessings of the destitute rise to heaven, & go to solicit its favors. In vain would incense smoke for you on porphyry altars, if there were silence in the rustic temples of our countryside: the creator is deaf when the poor weep.
No one is more imbued than my King with these great & sublime truths; for his ideas on morality do not fluctuate with the wind of opinion; all his virtues rest upon an unshakable foundation, religion. It is religion that teaches him that his subjects are his brothers; it is religion that shows him, beyond death, a formidable judge, who will cast the Monarch & the shepherd into the same scale. It is easy for us to be humble, we who are nothing: but Kings, who can do anything, have great sacrifices to make: they must accustom their proud foreheads to touch the pavement of temples, & they must come to humble themselves before him who thunders over the heads of all mortals, who orders death to depopulate palaces, who blows upon thrones, & makes them disappear. A wise man said that, even if it were useless for subjects to have a religion, it would not be so for princes to have one, & that they should whiten with foam the only bit that those who do not fear human laws can have. Undoubtedly; but religion is not a bit for the prince that heaven has given us. It is a free & voluntary homage; it is a need of his heart. That the wicked reject religion, I am not surprised; God is terrible only to him: but the good man must not tremble; he expects only rewards. It is under this comforting aspect that I like to envision religion; is it not the hope of the unfortunate, the sacred bond of concord, the pledge of the felicity of nations? Does it not preach humanity, respect for the laws, obedience to sovereigns, paternal tenderness, filial piety? How cruel are those dangerous men, who have tried to take religion away from us! Tell me, wretched philosophers! when you have destroyed the hope of the good man, & the terror of the wicked, what will you put in its place? Do you not see that we will then only refrain from doing evil when evil is not useful to us? Like ferocious animals, who only abstain from drinking blood when they are not thirsty.
Wisdom itself inspired the King, when he made religion the motive & the end of all his actions. When he ascended, for the first time, to the throne of his ancestors, he first announced that he had turned his gaze towards heaven; (Edict of June 15, 1773.) that he had implored the lights of the Most High, so that he might deign to illuminate his steps in the paths of truth & justice, & that he might faithfully fulfill the duties of sovereignty, by maintaining public felicity. This authentic homage, rendered to religion, announced the wisest views in the Monarch; & he has never deviated from his principles. The love of glory can, undoubtedly, produce momentary efforts of virtue; but I doubt that there exists an essentially equitable plan of administration, which does not have respect for the Supreme Being as its basis. Honor will indeed lead the Monarch to battles; honor will make him seek all the brilliant qualities, made to captivate the admiration of men: but the obscure virtues, which are exercised only in silence, & which are nevertheless the most useful, where will he find them? What will teach him to be sober, prudent, economical, industrious, when voluptuousness holds out its arms to him with a smile? Show me the force that will keep him in his solitary study, to discuss, with his ministers, a thorny question of administration. I feel my systems on government strengthen in my mind, when I consider the private life of my King. His conduct, always sustained, always uniform, announces that he reads his duties in the bosom of truth itself. With him, indolence was never the companion of greatness; all his moments are full: far from fleeing occupations, he does not even fear fatigue; his leisure is often work. This river threatens the countryside; this public road would favor commerce. Well, he will go to the site, & so as not to be deceived, he will trust only himself. A great man remarked that, to find the most bored man in a kingdom, one must go straight to the Sovereign. This may be true in general; but this reproach could not fall on Victor: he does not have time to be bored; all his days are marked by new projects; every instant brings new occupations: as soon as one has seen him act, one no longer doubts that he sincerely wants the good; & if some abuse were to be introduced, the murmurs would never be addressed to the Monarch; if he cannot foresee everything, it is because he is a man; & if one wants a convincing proof of his vigilance, it is enough to recall an incontestable fact, which is that none of his subjects can be publicly vicious; no one has raised the mask; & one sees in his states only truly virtuous men, or skillful hypocrites, because one is well persuaded that to merit favors, one must have morals, or fake them.
If Kings, in working for public felicity, should propose to themselves no other reward than the love of their subjects, never was a prince, in this regard, happier than Victor. I would never finish if I wanted to relate the multiplied proofs of affection he has received from the different provinces of his states: from Nice to Chamberi, there is only one mind, only one sentiment; we all love him equally, because we are all equally dear to his heart. It is not without reason that he has dispensed us from the oath of fidelity: this ceremony, which rebels mock, & which adds nothing to the duties of good citizens, was not made for us. Is there a prince on earth more convinced than Victor that he is the idol of his people? O forever memorable day, when my country saw, for the first time, the master it awaited with such impatience! For a long time, edicts alone announced to us that we had a King. A terrible fire had consumed the ancient dwelling of our Princes. Fortune, applied to keeping us in the dust, had wanted to annihilate even the last vestiges of our greatness. O Charles I! was your illustrious shade not indignant to see the impure reptile crawl over the ruins of this palace that you had made the center of politeness & gallantry? It seemed that nature conspired with fortune to make Savoy the most unfortunate country in the universe. The torrents, breaking their dikes, ravaged our countryside; a destructive wind blew upon our harvests; the hands of industry, numbed by misfortune, no longer knew how to undertake anything, & indignant genius went to seek success under a foreign sky.
It is in these circumstances that Victor ascends the throne: he gives Piedmont the first times of his reign; he wants a generous nation, so worthy of the love of its masters, to be satiated with the sight of a cherished Monarch: he then announces that he is going to see the cradle of his fathers & the eldest of his children. Fame publishes the King’s intentions; it adds that an august Queen, raised in the shadow of palaces, courageously undertakes a painful journey, & that she wants to accompany her husband.
At first one can hardly believe the public voice; but when one sees the palaces rise again, it is no longer permitted to doubt. Soon one learns that the King has crossed the summit of the Alps: then astonishment gives way to joy; people bustle about, they hasten; a numerous nobility flies to meet its sovereign. The people show no less ardor; they throw themselves in crowds onto the road; they cover VICTOR’s chariot with flowers; they express their joy through dances & rustic songs. The King is moved by the misery of a hamlet. SIRE, cries a peasant, there are no unfortunate people when you are among us; when we see you, we forget our misfortunes. Undoubtedly these words will be eternally engraved in the Monarch’s memory.
It is amidst the acclamations of this good people, that he arrives in the capital… Here I am tempted to throw down my pen: I search for expressions, they refuse my mind: what colors shall I use to paint the transports of sentiment? I seem to see my fellow citizens rising up against me, & reproaching me for the weakness of the picture. But, what! is it not enough to recount the facts to win the approval of sensitive souls? Do I need eloquence to paint the good King advancing slowly amidst two close lines of moved citizens? Does it not seem to us that we still hear the cries of joy, that we see all eyes fixed on the father of this numerous family who crowd around his chariot? The entire city offered to the eyes the spectacle of martial pomp; the peaceful bourgeois, suddenly transformed into a soldier, presented himself to his master in military attire: it was to make him feel that all citizens are ready to shed their blood for him, & that when it comes to defending the country, we will all be soldiers: the old man said: now I will descend peacefully into the grave, for I have seen the happiness of my country begin. The young man questioned his father: are we not approaching, he said to him, those fortunate times that you loved so much to predict to me? When sadness afflicted my heart, you would say to me: “my son! one day a beneficent star will shine upon these regions; industry will awaken; the sciences will be encouraged; the arts, revived by the life-giving glance of the Monarch, will provide an infallible resource to the industrious citizen; destitution will no longer be anything but the penalty of idleness, & our wives will no longer fear being fruitful.” Do not doubt it, happy Savoyards! these times have arrived. When your King advanced among you to the palace of his ancestors, did you not read in his eyes that he came to make people happy? How worthy he is of your love, this beneficent Monarch! The great object of his wishes is your felicity: he sees everything; he examines everything; his projects, matured in silence, will surprise you one day: but, if your interests are dear to him; if he occupies himself only with your happiness, I will say loudly that you are worthy of it by your attachment to his person. Yes, great Prince, I will say it (& your heart will not contradict me), if love is only paid by love, you have just contracted an immense debt with your people. What Prince on earth was ever more convinced than you that he is dear to all his subjects? We will never forget that day when your carriage drove along a public promenade; our assembled citizens seemed to beg you to stop your steps, & not to hide yourself from their eagerness. Suddenly the carriage stops; it opens; you leave, you leap out, & there you are among us: then there is no longer rank or condition; the people push aside the great; they rush forward, they surround you, they press upon you; the poor especially, the artisan, the rustic, accustomed to looking upon Kings as inaccessible divinities, can hardly believe their eyes, astonishment renders them motionless. It was a great spectacle to see a Sovereign without guards, without soldiers, without a retinue, mingled with a crowd of men the most abject in the eyes of greatness: they threw themselves in your path; they left you only the space necessary to walk slowly; they dared, so to speak, to forbid you to hasten your steps: we saw in your eyes the expression of tenderness, & on your mouth the smile of pleasure: you seemed to protest to us publicly that your trust in us has no bounds, & that you only need guards when we are far from you. No, great Prince, you are not mistaken; rest upon the hearts of your subjects, there were never any more faithful: from BEROLD to VICTOR, our annals do not name a traitor; never will you be safer than when we are all around you: if hell vomited a monster, how many hearts he would have to pierce before reaching yours! Can you take a step without receiving new testimonies of our love? When you appeared for the first time in that theater which zeal raised so rapidly, we had eyes only for you, & beauty itself was astonished to have lost its rights. As for me, when I heard those redoubled acclamations, those verses dictated by tenderness, & which we demanded again so often; when I saw your gaze wander delightfully over your assembled children, I felt my eyes moisten, & these tears warned me that I had to write your eulogy.
Come, CLOTILDE, come embellish the court of my King; come mingle the blood of HENRI IV with that of VICTOR; tighten further the bonds that unite us to France; they will never be multiplied enough. When you are on the banks of the Po, you will believe you are still at the court of LOUIS; you will see fortunate marriages, tender brothers, faithful subjects, an adored Monarch; & in the arms of the best of husbands, you will have only one misfortune to dread, that of reigning.
SECOND PART.
Montaigne said in his energetic style: the harshest and most difficult profession, to my mind, is to play the King worthily; I excuse more of their faults than is commonly done, in consideration of the horrible weight of their burden, which astounds me. When one reflects on the condition of Kings, on the importance and extent of their duties, one is frightened; and far from inveighing bitterly against those slight abuses, inevitable in the best administrations, one is tempted to excuse everything. There is perhaps nothing more unjust than the judgments we pass on the gods of the earth. I laugh at a splenetic philosopher who cannot manage his own household, and who cries out against the slightest faults of the government. As for me, when I consider that a clever servant can deceive the most vigilant father of a family every day, I lament the condition of a mortal like myself, born to command, from the depths of his palace, thousands of men, a part of whom have no other goal, no other view, no other ambition than to deceive him.
What is a King? He is a man to whom heaven has not given an intelligence superior to that of a private individual, and who has duties a thousand times more important to fulfill. He must have received from nature the glance of genius that embraces the whole, and the mind for detail that will catch fraud even in its smallest detours. He must know men and know how to use them, because a single misplaced man can make a thousand others unhappy: he must equally protect all the orders of the state, distribute his favors to them impartially, and take great care not to elevate a single one to the detriment of the others.
All this is still nothing if one comes to reflect that the Sovereign is reduced to perpetually distrusting himself, and that the greatest dangers are found in his own heart. Friendship, that need of sensitive souls; that gift of heaven which makes life bearable for us, has often brought states to the edge of the precipice. Ambition presents itself under the mask of friendship, and the Monarch’s trust becomes the instrument of oppression. How then can he be sure that he is loved? If he wants to know the truth, whom will he ask? If he gives orders, who will assure him that they are executed? If he receives advice, who will tell him whether it is dictated by zeal or by interest? These are the reflections that present themselves to my mind whenever I am tempted to blame Kings in my heart. Let one carefully consider their position, and one will see that Victor’s system is the only one that can teach them to discern the truth.
This system consists of questioning everyone, listening to all complaints, and permitting all representations, and even formal contradictions. First, the primary law that strikes foreigners is the one that allows the supreme courts to suspend the registration of edicts, contracts, etc., which might appear dangerous to them; to make representations, and even to resist the Sovereign. As this law is not at all peculiar to the King, I content myself with pointing out its wisdom in passing. But what belongs to him quite incontestably, and what perhaps belongs only to him, is the habit of hearing any man who wishes to speak to him, and of often questioning the one who least expects it.
If one wants a striking example of the precautions employed by the King to assure himself of the truth, let them examine what is happening before our eyes. There is no question now among us but of that political operation, which must annihilate in Savoy even the last vestiges of the feudal government. Never perhaps were there more delicate interests to manage. On one side, they emphasize the abuses of renewals, the harshness of exactions, the revolutions of times, the antiquity of manuscripts, the barbarity of the language, the change of currencies, the division of inheritances, the uncertainty of boundaries, and a thousand other inconveniences that cover justice with an impenetrable cloud, and which make it impossible, when one pays, to know if one is paying one’s creditor. They maintain that there is nothing in the world more cruel than to be judged irrevocably by men whose science is beyond anyone’s reach, and whose conduct can only be illuminated with great difficulty. They show the Sovereign discouraged industry, languishing agriculture, and dejected spirits.
On another side, they invoke the sacred laws of property, inviolable among all nations. They ask if it is therefore so hard to demand a slight tribute from a man who holds everything from us; if it is necessary that there be no kind of dependence between the various classes of citizens; if it is advantageous to degrade the nobility in a monarchy; if it is not unjust to arbitrarily tax what receives a price only from the nature of things and the concurrence of circumstances, etc.: this is undoubtedly the most doubtful trial one could imagine. But I do not believe that the most upright and experienced Magistrate could bring to the examination of this affair more care, more prudence, more attention than the King. He has heard everything that anyone wanted to tell him on this subject; and among that infinite number of citizens who have had the happiness of approaching him since we have possessed him, there is perhaps not a single one who has not given him his opinion on the enfranchisements. What will be the result of his observations? I know nothing of it: what is very certain is that it is not possible to push wisdom further. What more could we do to decide surely, we who are in a position to see and hear everything? Is it not from the clash of opinions that truth is born? With such precautions, if one has the misfortune not to discover it, it is because man is condemned to meet it only by chance. God requires Sovereigns not to grant exclusive trust either to a single man or to a certain number of men. Liars only fall silent when they are well persuaded that the prince questions everyone; for if he had ten thousand determined confidants, in six months all those people would collude to deceive him.
I can therefore thank the King in the name of the nation, because it is constant that he wants the good. Heaven is my witness that, if I were not persuaded of it, I would not have taken up the pen. Can one be mistaken about his intentions? Let one search throughout the universe for a Monarch who deigns to visit his provinces, as a father of a family visits his inheritance. During the three months that he has honored us with his presence, has he not combined the functions of an engineer with those of a Sovereign? The roads, the rivers, the torrents, the mountains, the marshes, he has examined everything. Do not these cares, these painful labors announce projects whose execution will place his name beside that of Titus? O citizens! the past answers to you for the future; and you can in advance thank the King for the benefits that you have not yet experienced. The education of youth, so neglected among us, occupies a sensitive soul. We are approaching a revolution that we no longer dare to hope for. The foreigner, who comes to offer his talents, is welcomed, protected, encouraged. The gothic institutions are going to disappear. VICTOR will lead true philosophy by the hand; he will order it to blow upon the old formulas; and ignorance, pursued, chased, insulted throughout Europe, will no longer boast that we are its last subjects.
Soon, no doubt, a public library will open; it is already begun: this establishment requires neither care nor expense: let the Sovereign only say, I want it to be there, in a short time it will be filled: all good citizens will make it their glory to augment it; and the bachelor, above all, proud to be useful to the world for once, will hasten to swell this depository of human knowledge (*).
(*) I speak of our illustrious idlers, true drones of society, and not at all of those respectable men, attached to the service of the altars, whose state could only be ridiculed by the thoughtless or the impious.
Let us turn our eyes to other objects, everywhere we will find traces of the King’s goodness. At the gates of the capital, a magnificent road opens in the bosom of the rock; and our city, previously unapproachable, becomes a convenient depot for the commerce of Switzerland and Italy. Solid bridges, built in several places, reassure the traveler, who saw himself, only trembling, obliged to entrust his life to frail assemblages of wood, suspended over precipices. The reconstruction of the palace and the other public works occupy a crowd of workers, who find subsistence near their hearths. An immense dike stops the Rhône ready to swallow the delicious hills of Chautagne. Cruel Isère! you will return your prey; and the fertile countryside of Conflans, suddenly emerged from beneath your waves, will arrest the eyes of the moved traveler. The plowman will be astonished to guide his plow where the fisherman cast his nets. When the ears of corn fall in crowds under the reaper’s sickle, the reunited villagers will sing in chorus the praises of Victor; this cherished name will become among them the signal of joy, and the soul of their pleasures; they will not pronounce it without feeling the sweet thrills of gratitude, and future generations will still speak of this good King, who conquered so much land without shedding blood.
No doubt my Sovereign will forgive me for daring to foresee his benefits; when one knows his heart, one must expect everything; and the most signal favors, when they depart from his hand, will move me without astonishing me.
Let us lose sight of these particular objects, let us abandon the details, let us cast our eyes on the whole of the administration, we will find that it has all the perfection of which a monarchy is susceptible; and politicians agreeing quite generally that the monarchical state is the most perfect of all, it follows that we have nothing to envy any people.
The first character of the government under which we live is a sustained moderation, which manifests itself at first glance. Among us, nothing is done by jolts; no considerable revolutions; no overturned fortunes; few illustrious disgraces; severity never resembles harshness: it is a rather common thing that a man who has displeased retires from public affairs loaded with benefits, and finds himself forced to cherish the hand that strikes him. What is admirable is that moderation does no wrong to firmness. The action of the Sovereign resembles that of nature; it is deaf and infallible. Operations, which elsewhere produce always indecent, and sometimes dangerous outbursts, are executed among us without noise, without clamor; it is a skillful maneuver of the pilot, which the passenger only notices when the ship has changed course. See how we have been able to protect ourselves from some dangerous opinions that agitated minds in certain states. As soon as error wants to raise its voice, royal authority puts its hand over its mouth; while waiting for God to judge it in the other world, it must remain silent in this one: and that is the masterpiece of prudence.
VICTOR, in adopting this system of government, only walks in the footsteps of his illustrious ancestors; but we must believe that the administration will rise in his hands to a higher degree of perfection, because he will add his own reflections to the examples left to him by his predecessors, and above all the one who gave him life.
Why should I not throw a few flowers here on the tomb of that great Prince, who has twice made our happiness, since he transmitted his virtues to his son? O EMMANUEL! I have only one word to say to praise you: VICTOR, who ascended the throne, did not prevent us from weeping bitterly for your loss: what more energetic thing could I say to honor your memory? The reputation of a father is a formidable weight for his son; and the height of glory for VICTOR is that we did not notice that we had changed masters: it is the same goodness, the same affability, the same vigilance. He has inherited that mind for detail, indispensable for discovering a thousand small abuses, which drive peoples to despair by their union and their multiplicity. When he has deposited a part of his power in the hands of a citizen, he does not believe himself exempt from keeping an eye on him; he knows that, to the shame of humanity, distrust is the most necessary virtue for Kings. If someone abuses the degree of authority entrusted to him, soon a furrowed brow, or an icy letter, announces to him that he has displeased: that is perhaps the greatest proof of the King’s wisdom. As soon as people in place enjoy boundless trust, soon they no longer know any restraint, they become despots from the moment they perceive that they can be so with impunity; one first knows their friends and their enemies; factions are born, minds become embittered; scandalous hatreds are seen to break out, and the nation, calumniated in the mind of the Monarch, bears the penalty of the extravagance or the wickedness of its leaders. Let no one accuse me of painting pictures of imagination; these abuses are known everywhere, except in the King’s states. I take pleasure in painting the evils that result from a bad administration; it is the best way to praise the King, and to please my fellow citizens. Does not the frightening noise of the waves amuse the sailors in the port? When I paint the evils from which we are exempt, I awaken in all hearts love and gratitude for the prince to whom we owe our happiness. The great object of public felicity occupies all the forces of his mind; he would like to be able, like God, to question consciences, and judge men in an infallible manner; but at least he neglects nothing that depends on him to bring his states to the highest point of strength and greatness. If he places men at the head of affairs, it is because he judges them worthy. The rights of each citizen are known and respected; all the actions of the Monarch are marked with the seal of justice and moderation. It is known with what exactness the public revenues are administered, and whether we should regret, in this regard, the reign of Charles-Emmanuel. As long as economy watches over the internal regime, the state cannot decline. Economy! economy! that is the cry of all good politicians: a King who lacks this virtue is the scourge of his subjects; and to make its advantages felt, I want no other model than Victor. One does not see in his states pensions accumulated on the most vile or the most useless heads; no overly rapid fortunes; none of those men who are rich only because others are poor. The base men, who complain that one does not make a fortune in the King’s service, are, without perceiving it, the finest eulogy of his government. No, undoubtedly, an honest man cannot enrich himself in any employment; and woe to us if he could! Money must never be a reward; its sole use is to represent subsistence. It is quite evident that a warrior, that a magistrate, entirely devoted to his duties, can neither plow nor trade; it is therefore necessary that the King or the country (Victor has taught us to confound these two words) take charge of his maintenance; beyond that, nothing more is owed to him; his reward is honor. The collars of the order, the black wands, the crosses, the ermine, the purple, the nobility, the entries, the ranks, the preeminences; that is the inexhaustible treasure of the prince. Honor! what a word! what a spring in the hands of a skillful Monarch such as Victor! With this lever, he can move everything, shake everything. The virtuous man loves only glory, and asks only for distinctions; but he who only knows how to ask for money, is corrupted. Is not the obligation to serve one’s country as strict, as sacred as that of loving one’s father? As soon as the common mother provides for your subsistence, what do you have to ask of her? A man in office, who solicits an increase in salary, is as ridiculous as a son who would want to be paid to obey his father.
Let imprudent men turn economy into ridicule; as for me, I will never cease to give thanks to my King, who never loses sight of it. Can princes squander gold, without tearing it from their subjects? Liberality in Kings is the most dangerous virtue; it supposes no other; it can lodge in the heart of Caligula, as in that of Titus. It is most often weakness that takes the mask of generosity: it is not the pleasure of giving, it is the impotence of refusing. Money, moreover, makes nothing great happen; and if there existed in the state an order of citizens who did not enjoy the portion of honor that is naturally due to them, one would see it visibly decline, although it might perhaps be the best endowed on the side of riches. I confess, however, that there are in all countries men whose services cannot be bought too dearly; these are the histrions, the mountebanks, the informers, the eunuchs, the archers, the executioners, the tax farmers, etc., for these people having nothing in common with honor, one has only money to give them.
VICTOR will always know how to despise the clamors of greed; & the blessings of his people, who will never tremble at the sight of an exactor, will console him enough for the murmurs of a few insatiable men, who almost always demand the salary of services they have not rendered.
Let one cast their eyes on the King’s estates, one will first recognize the happy fruits of economy. When superfluous expenses are cut, necessary expenses take care of themselves. Sumptuous edifices adorn the superb Turin; the roads are repaired; our squares offer, for the most part, masterpieces of fortifications: the museum is enriched; the sciences are encouraged; our troops are on the most respectable footing: this last glory belongs entirely to the King; he is the author of a new tactic, praised by all connoisseurs. I will doubtless be forgiven for not dwelling on this subject. I will not offer the ridiculous spectacle of a man of letters discoursing on the military art. We know the story of that philosopher, who was hissed by Hannibal for a similar imprudence: but what I can perceive & admire like anyone else, is the order & severe discipline that reign in the armies; it is the ardor, the emulation, & that kind of martial intoxication that distinguish our soldiers. I know that thinkers complain that the attention of European governments is turned too exclusively to this object. I agree that large armies are a frightful plague for humanity; but will these sorrowful philosophers never reflect that the wisest Sovereign is not master to correct the spirit of his century? He must follow the general impulse. If all Princes disbanded half their troops, one would laugh, with reason, at the one who would not want to diminish his own: but when the whole earth is covered with soldiers; when the least clear-sighted eyes see storms forming on all sides, will the far-sighted Monarch who loves his people leave his estates defenseless, at the mercy of the first man who wishes to ravage them? Must he not shower with honors & prerogatives that illustrious portion of citizens who devote themselves to death for the common salvation? It is by encouraging the military spirit that VICTOR takes advantage of a numerous nobility, the true rampart of monarchies. Would it be much more prudent to send them back to old castles, where they would spend their time destroying game & tormenting men? Timid city-dwellers, whom a drawn sword makes shudder, who discourse at ease, around your hearths, on the duties of Kings; you who never cease to declaim against the military, & to envy them the advantages they enjoy, envy them also the dangers of their profession; leave your wives, your children; go into a trench to expose your illustrious heads to the fires of twenty combined thunders, & as a reward for your labors, you will be given the right to speak loudly, & to have a two-colored coat.
The distinctions, with which it pleases the Sovereign to decorate a certain class of their subjects, are dangerous only when the other orders of the State are neglected or despised. The height of wisdom for a King is to maintain a perfect balance among them: a priest, a warrior, a magistrate, etc., must be well persuaded that he enjoys his master’s esteem as soon as he fulfills his duties: that is the great secret of administration, to protect all the orders of the State, & to protect none to the prejudice of the others. If the Monarch abandoned the cares of the throne for those of the sanctuary, & had the guilty weakness of wanting to meddle in the functions of Aaron, soon the priests would yield the censer to him, provided he yielded the scepter to them, & this monstrous exchange would shake the state. Heraclius would make ectheses, & the pontiffs would give out the jobs. If he had the exclusive taste for legislation; if he wanted to foresee everything, decide everything, judge everything, the edicts, multiplied to infinity, would drive the magistrates to despair; the herald who comes to publish a law would be replaced by the one who would come to announce its abrogation; the armies would perish while the Prince dictates his edicts, & one would see all the extravagances of Justinian’s reign renewed. If the Sovereign were only a warrior, justice could no longer make its voice heard amidst the din of arms; the ministers of this daughter of heaven, reduced to blushing at their functions, would throw away the scale; the sword would pass into the hands of a few men base enough to exercise a ministry that would not be founded on honor, & the most respectable companies would be nothing more than flocks: but as soon as the Monarch loudly announces that he loves, that he honors every citizen who makes himself useful to his country, & that his benefits, equally distributed, leave no room for doubt, no one has the right to complain.
I would be guilty of an essential omission if I passed over in silence the infinite cares of the King to maintain religion in all its purity in his estates. When I praised VICTOR’s tender piety, I considered only the man: but religion is not only the indispensable homage of the creature to the creator, the sacred bond that unites heaven to earth, the hope of the virtuous man, the sole motive that attaches the unfortunate to life, it is also the most powerful of political springs & the true nerve of states; it is from this point of view that it enters into the political regime, & that it needs the protection of Monarchs. Never did a Sovereign better deserve than VICTOR the title of external bishop, formerly given to Constantine. I will loudly assert that the King’s system in this regard is worthy of serving as a model for all Sovereigns, because it is equally far from the excess of laxity & the excess of severity. There are countries where it is criminal to be suspected, where the accusation of irreligion is constantly renewed, because it is always sure to be listened to…: what am I saying! has not extravagance & cruelty been pushed to the point of lighting pyres, to the point of shedding blood in the name of the very good God? sacrifices a thousand times more horrible than those our ancestors offered to the frightful Teutates; for that insensible idol had never said to men: you shall not kill each other, you are all brothers; I will hate you if you do not love each other.
Other countries present a completely opposite & no less condemnable excess, where one can say & write anything with impunity; where one dares to question the most respectable truths; where one insults, with the utmost impudence, everything that is most sacred; where one boldly saps the foundations of human society, which would be nothing more than a theater of horrors if one were to be persuaded that virtue is but a name; & yet the government closes its eyes, or if it seeks out the guilty, it is with a softness that sufficiently announces its indifference. Here, we do not know the attacks of incredulity; under whatever form it presents itself, it is unmasked & punished. We are not judged on the absurd suspicions of a wounded brain; but if anyone dares to insult religion, it is a capital crime that the Sovereign avenges without pity. I am not unaware that unbelievers loudly demand the freedom to think; but this is playing grossly on words. Who is preventing them from thinking? Never has a Monarch imagined being able to chain intelligence; man is essentially free in his thoughts, & the most abominable tyrant cannot prevent his slave from wishing him dead in the bottom of his heart, at the very moment the unfortunate man prostrates himself before him. It is the speeches, it is the writings that VICTOR forbids, with reason; & I dare to beg him, in the name of his people, to redouble, if possible, his tireless vigilance, to preserve them from the ravages of skepticism. Religion is the most beautiful gift that heaven has made to earth, & the maintenance of this religion is the most signal benefit that Sovereigns can make their subjects feel.
The love of the fatherland, always alive in my heart, forces me to repel an accusation that some have dared to bring against my fellow citizens for some time. Men of mud, men whom ambition has lowered to the vile trade of informers, men who flaunt morals, & who hide all vices under the exterior of virtue, are not ashamed to insult their country, & to accuse us of lacking religion, to give themselves a tone of reformers & severe judges, sometimes even to ruin the man who has the misfortune of not being their friend. I will boldly speak my mind on this subject, because we can no longer ignore that the criminal voice of these slanderers, repeated by imbecilic echoes, has only too often resounded to the foot of the throne. We have no religion . . . . ! I know nothing about that; what I do know is that there is no people on earth gentler, more humane, more compassionate, more generally loved than us. The epithet of faithful, constantly joined to the name of Savoyard, honors even those unfortunate men whom the frost & misery tear from the icy summits of the Alps, & who come every year to sell their industry in our cities or abroad. Crimes are unknown among us, & the magistrates who dispense justice to these men without religion have never had a parricide to punish. Strike, cruelly outrage one of these men without religion; if he is armed, & you are not, he will forget his advantages, & the most just anger will not wring a crime from him. Come into our cities, wander at night without arms, without an escort, without torches; lose yourself in the most solitary streets, plunge into those tortuous detours so common in anciently built cities; all these men without religion sleep peacefully; if someone comes to you, it is a friend; crime never watches with a dagger in hand. Should a dangerous illness surprise you within our walls, if you are not entirely unknown, you will soon see people of distinction disputing with mercenaries the honor of serving their fellow men; these men without religion will come to lavish you with help of all kinds; & if you must die, you will die blessing these men without religion, who will surround your bed: but if it is a father, a mother whose days are threatened, then tenderness, sensitivity, cares have no bounds; neither sleep nor rest is known; ingenious love invents at every moment the most sought-after remedies: the sex, which has only graces, finds strength; nothing is painful, nothing is disgusting; at the slightest sinister wrinkle discovered on a doctor’s forehead, an entire family experiences the convulsions of despair; & the stranger, whom this spectacle strikes for the first time, bows down, struck with admiration before these children without religion, who do so well everything that religion commands. Our families, generally numerous, further attest to the sanctity of marriages. If I were writing a dissertation, I would prove that in Savoy even vice has morals, & that if Christian morality is unfortunately outraged there, as everywhere else, nature never is. I know that our morals are beginning to decline, & I have complained about it; but let no one bring us vices, & we will be as respectable as our ancestors. Out of ten victims that justice sacrifices for public safety, there are four or five who did not see the light of day in our climates… Yes, yes, miserable slanderers, you must admit that we have virtues: will you have the gall to maintain that one can have them without religion? Go defend this thesis before the King, I consent to it.
I will perhaps be reproached for this digression; but what does it matter to me? it is not as foreign as one might think to the eulogy of Victor; his glory is inseparable from that of his people: it is honoring him to repel an atrocious accusation that imprints shame on our foreheads. Let no one be surprised by the frankness of my speech; it is the tone of a man who speaks the truth: why should I disguise my thoughts? Let falsehood mask itself & speak only trembling, truth expresses itself freely: it is represented naked to make it felt that it fears no one’s gaze.
In writing this eulogy, I have given my King the most authentic testimony of my affection. If I were not filled with the most lively and sincere love for him; if I did not venerate his virtues as much as I respect his rank, I would have served him faithfully (for nothing exempts one from this duty); but never, no never would I have praised him. My friends know how foreign flattery is to my character. When I undertook this work, I believed I was fulfilling a duty. It is not enough that those who approach the throne assure the Monarch that he is dear to his subjects, there must be a public protestation from the nation; and this protestation, I do not hesitate to take upon myself. All good citizens will applaud my zeal; and from the shores of the Mediterranean to the countryside of Chablais, none of Victor’s subjects will contradict the praises I have given him. No, great Prince! it is not a mercenary orator who comes to sing your praises; it is an ardent young man, sensitive to the charms of virtue, and who is perhaps worthy to praise you, since he has never blushed. If sometimes I have dared to speak to you of the needs of your people, it is yet another honor I wished to render you. Could I better prove to you that your kindnesses are engraved in our hearts, and that we are as convinced of them as of our own existence? Would one address prayers to the Supreme Being, if one did not know that he is powerful and that he is good? It seems that heaven watches particularly over us, and that it has reserved the best of Monarchs for us, in these stormy times when Europe has everything to fear from the opposition and clash of interests. Already we hear the shuddering of the demon of war, who calls for carnage; soldiers cover our hemisphere; there is agitation, there is observation. Liberty, insulted in Europe, has taken its flight towards another hemisphere; it hovers over the ice of Canada; it arms the peaceful Pennsylvanian; and from the midst of Philadelphia, it cries out to the English: why have you outraged me, you who boast of being great only through me? The north is torn apart; brave republicans watch, shuddering, as borders are broken; tears of rage flow over a land that is no longer theirs: who knows if the conflagration will not spread to other countries? If the balance leaned too much to one side, undoubtedly men would go there to slaughter each other to restore the equilibrium. Fear alone protects us from the attacks of ambition. At the slightest signal, blood will flow… O my King! O my dear master! O my father! the height of glory for you is to ward off the storms that are forming. The master of the Alps influences everything, and your wisdom can make you the arbiter of Kings. Peace alone can make us enjoy the fruit of your labors: you now preserve, you perfect: after the war, it would be necessary to create. If thunder rumbles over our heads, cover us with the aegis of your wisdom; and while mad discord waves its torches around our borders, we will bless the beneficent King to whom we will owe our happiness. We will go into a fertile valley to raise your bust on a throne of sheaves; we will adorn your head with a crown of ears of corn: this monument will not be burdened with formidable trophies: one will see there the sickle, the rake, the rustic pipes united by festoons of flowers. The plowman will invoke you as the God of peace; for sacrifices, he will go and break murderous weapons before you: but if unfortunate circumstances forced you to draw the sword; if massacres became inevitable, you know if we know how to fly to our deaths; and the fields of Turin, of Parma, of Guastalla, of Campo-Santo, attest to the valor of a nation to which you did not disdain to pay homage when ascending the throne (*). We will all go, if necessary, to shed our blood at your side: when we fight under your flags, we will be sure to fight for justice; love will show us the path to glory; you will be proud of your subjects: but as a reward for this love, we expect a favor from you. When war has unleashed its furies, take your heir by the hand; lead him onto the battlefield; show him death in a thousand hideous aspects; let him see the piled-up corpses, the scattered limbs, the torn entrails; let him hear the cries of the unfortunate, expiring under the horses' hooves, the imprecations of rage, the howls of despair; tell him: “my son, heaven has given you an adorable companion; if she lost you, her heart would be torn: well, among these dead, there are thousands of husbands; bloodthirsty ambition has torn them from the bosoms of their wives; and from the nuptial bed, they have descended into the tomb. At the moment I speak to you, a crowd of widows, orphans, decrepit old men, bruise their breasts, and fill the air with lamentable cries; soon brambles will cover the humble heritage of their fathers; the overturned plows will wait in vain for the hands of their masters, and the rusted plowshare will no longer fertilize the countryside.”
(*) The King, addressing his subjects, told them in express terms that he had placed all his confidence in a nation as commendable for its valor as for its attachment to its masters. (Edict upon ascending the throne.)
Great God! deign to hear my prayer; we are the work of your hands; take pity on your sad children; pour your blessings on humane Kings, on peaceful Kings, on Kings like Victor; if they are forced to go to battle, make victory march before them. But if there are men in the universe who love war, who desire it, who seek it, great God! unleash your anger on their criminal heads; forget your mercies; be no more for them than the terrible God, the God of vengeance; hurl your thunderbolts on the sumptuous lairs of these pitiless tigers; crush their children under the stone; let the blood of their fathers, their mothers, their wives water their garments; order remorse to tear them apart; let them no longer know happiness; if sleep closes their eyelids, send them frightening dreams; make mournful cries resound in their ears; let them imagine at every moment seeing rivers of blood that will swallow them up, and hideous specters that force them to devour smoking entrails… But no, you let the executioners of nations live in peace; it is at death that you await them: ah! undoubtedly there is a hell, since there are unjust wars…
Emotion leads me astray; let us abandon the bitter reflections that the love of my fellow men wrings from me, in spite of myself: is it in the midst of the festivals of hymen that one must speak of the misfortunes of humanity? O my country! what a pompous spectacle will strike your eyes! how proud you will be to possess in your bosom the love of two nations, the pledge of eternal concord, the hope of posterity! France, we have given you two Adelaides: the gift you give us completes our union. Your lilies will once again shade the banks of the Eridanus, and the Bourbons will again give us masters. CHARLES! CLOTILDE! august spouses, you will retrace before our eyes the virtues of FERDINAND and VICTOR: may hymen be for you nothing but an eternal love: may you long enjoy the inexpressible happiness of knowing that you are adored! Confound the interests of the two states, and let the French accustom themselves to believing they are our fellow citizens. This amiable people will always have new rights over our hearts: with them, graces are allied to greatness; reason is never sad; valor is never ferocious; and the roses of Anacreon mingle with the martial plumes of the Du Guesclins. Princes! you ensure the felicity of your peoples when you ask for wives from France: the wicked cannot be born in her bosom. Could the blood of the good, the great HENRY ever flow in the veins of a tyrant?
VICTOR! heaven has just fulfilled your wishes. Happy father, happy husband, happy monarch, nothing is missing from your happiness, since your people share it. Your kindnesses have captivated all hearts; and the most amiable of Kings is also the most loved. May the supreme arbiter of destinies crown your august brow in turn with the olive of peace, and the palms of victory; may he multiply around your throne the Sullys and the Fenelons; may he send you every day men worthy to tell you the truth, as you are worthy to hear it; and may all nations envy us our King.
Soon you will see again the fortunate climate where you were born. But meanwhile we are losing you: . . . . are we losing you forever? . . . Ah! no; let us chase away this despairing idea. Goodness led you among us; one day goodness will bring you back. Your children are all equally worthy of possessing you. But it is we who first gave the name of sovereigns to your immortal ancestors; it is with us that they descended into these smiling plains, which the Po waters with its waves; and Savoyard lances founded your power in Italy. As a reward for the blood that our ancestors went to shed far from their country, return, return sometimes to their descendants; we will offer you, as a tribute, unfeigned hearts, a true love, a zeal tested by everything: it is the only homage we can present to you, and it is the only one worthy of you.
... Come da me si suole,
Liberi sensi in simplici parole.
Tasso.
END.
AUTHOR’S NOTE.
Since delivering my manuscript, it has been pointed out to me that a singular error escaped me in the heat of composition; it is that the word “us”, which is found on page 31, line 8, seems to be restricted to the Savoyards alone; from which one might conclude that the King needs guards when he is not in Savoy: but I hope I will be done the honor of believing that I am incapable of conceiving this criminal absurdity which should be erased with the author’s blood. By this term “us”, I mean all the King’s subjects, as the following sentences make clear enough. There is only one family, there is only one father; wherever he goes, he has nothing to fear; his guards are only for pomp, & never for safety.
POSTSCRIPT.
I know all the flaws of my work, & I let them remain, because I would try in vain to correct them; they stem from my age & my character.
I will not say, to excuse myself, that this eulogy was composed with inconceivable rapidity; people would not fail to answer me, “we can see that well enough;” but I must not let it be ignored that time has only cast upon my head
Four entire lustrums, burdened with two years.
It seems that at this age one has the right to demand indulgence; & I hope that instead of pitilessly criticizing flights of imagination, abrupt transitions, singular ideas that are found on every page, people will be content to say, he is a young man.
At Chambéry, September 1, 1795.
APPROBATION.
I have read the speech dedicated to the King; I found nothing in it contrary to faith, nor to morals, nor to truth. This piece is the expression of the liveliest sentiment that characterizes the orator. The public will find in it the striking traits that it has seen with an admiration full of respect in a great King. Chambéry, September 4, 1775.
The Abbé PANNISSET, professor of rhetoric, co-prefect of studies at the royal college of Chambéry.
No comments:
Post a Comment