The Short Reign of Pippin IV by John Steinbeck Read Free Book Online Page B

Let me develop this.
    â€œAristocracy thrives and breeds most luxuriantly under democratic or republican regimes. Whereas in a kingdom the aristocrats are screened and controlled, even eliminated for one reason or another, in republican climates the noblesse breed like rabbits. At the same time, the lower orders seem to become sterile. You will find the best proof of this in America, where there is no single individual who is not descended from an aristocrat, where there is not even an Indian who is not a tribal chief. In republican France, to only a slightly lesser degree, the aristocracy has shown a fecundity beyond belief.
    â€œThey will be down on you like sparrows on a—No, I won’t complete that simile. They will demand privileges unremembered since Louis the Ugly, but more than that, my dear child, they will want money.”
    Pippin said miserably, “What am I to do, Uncle Charlie? Why couldn’t it have waited a generation or two? Isn’t there a collateral branch of the family who might—”
    â€œNo,” said Charles, “there isn’t. And if there were, the combination of reason number one, plus Madame, plus Clotilde, would pull you under. And there’s another thing. If every Frenchman should oppose your accession to the monarchy, every Frenchwoman would force you to reign. Too long have they looked with craving eyes across the channel, sneered at the frumpiness of British royalty, and envied it.
    â€œPippin, my child, you are sunk,” said Charles. “You are the royal patsy. I suggest that you search deeply in the situation for something to enjoy. And now I know you will excuse me. A client is coming in with three unsigned Renoirs.”
    Pippin said, “Well, anyway, I don’t feel so alone, knowing that you will have to assume your titles.”
    â€œName of a thrice-soiled name!” cried Uncle Charlie. “I had forgotten that!”
    In a daze, Pippin left the gallery. He wandered blindly up-Seine on the Left Bank, past Notre-Dame, past warehouses, past wine storage, over bridges, past factories, and he did not look around until he came to Bercy.
    During his long and slow peramble it is more than possible that his mind, like a rat in a laboratory maze, sought every possible avenue of escape, explored runways and aisles and holes, only to run against the wire netting of fact. Again and again he butted his mental nose against the screen at the end of a promising passage, and there was the fact. He was king and there was no escaping it.
    In Bercy he stumbled wearily into a café, sat at a small marble table, observed, without seeing it, a passionate domino game, and, although it was not yet noon, he ordered a Pernod. He drank so rapidly and ordered another so promptly that the domino-players thought him a tourist and guarded their language.
    With his third Pernod, Pippin was heard to say, “All right, then. All right, then.” He swallowed his drink and waved for another and, when it came, he addressed his glass.
    â€œSo you want a king, my friends? But have you considered the danger? Do you know what you might have conjured up?” He turned to the domino-players. “Will you do me the honor of drinking a toast with me?” he demanded.
    Sullenly they accepted. For an American, they thought, he spoke excellent French.
    When they were served, Pippin raised his glass. “They want a king! I drink to the King! Long live the King!” He drained his glass. “Very well, my friends,” he said. “It is just possible that they will get a king—and that’s the last thing in the world they want. Yes, they may find they have a king on their hands.” He got up from his table and moved to the door. It was noted that he had a slow and regal step.

It is not so easy as might appear on the surface to reactivate a monarchy. There is the matter of what kind of monarchy you are going to have. Pippin leaned strongly toward