XV.
Lambkin’s Letter to a French Friend
Lambkin’s concern for the Continent was deep and lasting. He knew the Western part of this Division of the Globe from a constant habit of travel which would take him by the Calais-Bâle, passing through the St. Gothard by night, and so into the storied plains of Italy.[77]It was at Milan that he wrote hisShorter Anglo-Saxon Grammar, and in Assisi that he corrected the proofs of his article on the value of oats as human food. Everyone will remember the abominable outrage at Naples, where he was stabbed by a coachman in revenge for his noble and disinterested protection of a poor cab-horse; in a word, Italy is full of his vacations, and no name is more familiar to the members of the Club at the Villa Marinoni.
It may seem strange that under such circumstances our unhappy neighbours across the Channel should so especially have taken up his public action. He was no deep student of the French tongue, and he had but a trifling acquaintance with the habits of the common people of that country; but he has said himself with great fervour, in his “Thoughts on Political Obligations,” that no man could be a good citizen of England who did not understand her international position. “What” (he would frequently exclaim) “what can they know of England, who only England know?”[78]He did not pretend to a familiarity with the minute details of foreign policy, nor was he such a pedant as to be offended at the good-humoured chaff directed against his accent in the pronunciation of foreign names. Nevertheless he thought it—and rightly thought it—part of his duty to bring into any discussion of the affairs of the Republic those chance phrases which lend colour and body to a conversation.He found this duty as it lay in his path and accomplished it, without bombast, but with full determination, and with a vast firmness of purpose. Thus he would often let drop such expressions as “état majeur,” “la cléricalisme c’est l’ennemi,” “l’état c’est moi,”[79]and such was his painful and exact research that he first in the University arrived at the meaning of the word “bordereau,” which, until his discovery, all had imagined to be a secret material of peculiar complexity.
Mr. Lambkin had but one close friend in France, a man who had from cosmopolitan experience acquired a breadth and humour which the Frenchman so conspicuously lacks; he united, therefore, the charm of the French character to that general experience which Lambkin invariably demanded of his friends, and the fact that he belonged to a small political minority and had so long associated with foreigners had winnowed from that fine soul the grossness and one-sidedness, the mingled vanity andferocity, which seems so fatal a part of the Gallic temper. In some ways this friend reminded one of the great Huguenots whom France to her eternal loss banished by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and of whom a bare twenty thousand are now to be found in the town of Nîmes. In other ways this gifted mind recalled—and this would be in his moments of just indignation—the manner and appearance of a Major Prophet.
Jules de la Vaguère dè Bissac was the first of his family to bear that ancient name, but not the least worthy. Born on a Transatlantic in the port of Hamburg, his first experience of life had been given him in the busy competition of New York. It was there that he acquired the rapid glance, the grasp, the hard business head which carried him from Buenos Ayres to Amsterdam, and finally to a fortune. His wealth he spent in the entertainment of his numerous friends, in the furtherance of just aims in politics (to which alas! the rich in France do not subscribe as they should), to the publication of sound views in the press,and occasionally (for old habit is second nature[80]), in the promotion of some industrial concern destined to benefit his country and the world.[81]With transactions, however sound and honest, that savoured of mere speculation De Bissac would have nothing to do, and when his uncle and brother fled the country in 1887, he helped, indeed, with his purse but he was never heard to excuse or even to mention the poor, fallen men.
His hotel in the Rue des Fortifications (a modest but coquettish little gem, whose doors were bronze copies of the famous gates of the Baptistery at Florence), had often received Mr. Lambkin and a happy circle of friends. Judge then of the horror and indignation with which Oxford heard that two of its beautiful windows had been intentionally broken on the night of June 15th, 1896. The famous figure of “Mercy,” taken from the stained glass at Rheims, was destroyed and one of the stones hadfallen on the floor within an inch of a priceless Sèvres vase that had once belonged to Law and had been bought from M. Panama. It was on the occasion of this abominable outrage that Mr. Lambkin sent the following letter, which, as it was published in theHorreur, I make no scruple of reprinting. But, for the sake of the historical interest it possesses, I give it in its original form:—
“Cher Ami et Monsieur,
Je n’ai pas de doute que vous aurez souvenu votre visite à Oxford, car je suis bien sur que je souviens ma visite à Paris, quand je fus recu avec tant de bienveillance par vous et votre aimable famille.
Vous aurez donc immediatement après l’accident pensé à nous car vous aurez su que nous étions, moi et Bilkin, vos amis sincerès surtout dans la politique. Nous avons expecté quelque chose pareille et nous comprenons bien pourquoi c’est le mauvais Durand qui a jété les pierres. Vous avez été trop bon pour cet homme là.Souvenez-vous en future que c’est exactement ceux à qui nous pretons de l’argent et devraient être dévoués à nous, qui deviennent des ennemis. Voilà ce qui empêche si souvent de faire du bien excepté à ceux qui nous seront fideles et doux.
(All this, being of a private nature, was not printed in M. de Bissac’s paper. The public portion follows.)
Il est bien evident d’où viennent des abominables et choquants choses pareilles. C’est que la France se meurent. Un pays où il n’y a personne[82]qui peut empecher des fanatiques de briser les verres est un pays en décadence, voilà ce que l’Irlande aurait été si nous étions pas là pour l’empecher. On briserait des verres très surement et beaucoup. J’espère que je ne blesse pas votre cœur de Français en disant tout celà, mais il est bien mieux de connaître ce que l’on a, même si c’est mortel comme en France.
Vous l’avez bien dit c’est les militarisme et cléricalisme qui font ces outrages. Examinezbien l’homme qui a fait ça et vous verrez qu’il a été baptisé et très probablement il a fait son service militaire. Oh! Mon cher ami que Dieu[83]vous a merveilleusement préservé de l’influence du Sabe et du Goupillon! Vous n’avez pas fait votre service et si vous êtes sage ne faites le jamais car il corrompt le caractère. Je nous ne l’avons pas.
J’ai lu avec grand plaisir votre article “Le Prêtre au Bagne,” oui! c’est au Bagne que’l on devrait envoyer les Prêtres seulement dans un pays ou tant de personne sont Catholiques, je crains que les jurys sentimentales de votre pays aquitterait honteusement ces hommes néfastes.
J’espère que je ne blesse pas votre Cœur de Catholique en disant cela.[84]Nos Catholiques ici ne sont pas si mauvais que nosCatholiques là-bas. Beaucoup des notres sont de très bonnes familles, mais en Irlande l’ignorance et terrible, et on veut le faire plus grand avec une Université!
En éspérant que la France redeviendra son vrai même[85]ce que je crains être impossible, je reste, mon cher ami (et Monsieur) votre ami sincère, agriez mes vœux pressés, tout-à-toi.
Josue Lambkin.