The catholic religion was that in which the French were brought up; and
they were, from habit at least, if not from conviction, attached to it:
so far was its overthrow from meeting with the general approbation and
concurrence of the nation, that if it was acquiesced in for a time, it
was merely from a feeling of inability to avert the blow; and the
persecution which it experienced only served, as all persecution does,
to endear the object of it more strongly to them.
Such would have been the effect, even if the attempt made had only been
to substitute by force some other mode of faith in its place; but when
the question was to annihilate religion itself, no sane mind could
possibly dream of ultimate success. The sense of dependence upon some
unseen power far above our comprehension, is a principle inherent in
human nature;--no nation has yet been discovered, how remote soever from
civilisation in its customs and manners, in which some ideas of a power
superior to all earthly ones were not to be found.
The French are generally characterised as fond of novelty, and always
seeking after it with eagerness; and yet, however paradoxical it may
appear, it is no less true, that in many respects no people adhere more
tenaciously to ancient habits and customs. Nothing contributed so
essentially to the final overthrow of the violent revolutionists--no,
not even the horror excited by the torrents of blood which they shed--as
their endeavouring all at once to deprive the people of many habits and
customs which they particularly cherished; nor did any thing contribute
more strongly to Bonaparte’s power, than his restoring them.
These reflections were suggested to Miss Plumptre by one of the most
remarkable scenes that occurred while she was at Paris--the procession
to the church of Nôtre-Dame on _Easter Sunday_, for the public
restoration of the catholic worship. The free exercise of their religion
had been for several months allowed to the people, and the churches,
which had long been shut, were reopened; but this was the first occasion
on which the constituted authorities had, as a body, assisted in any
religious ceremony. As to the reestablishment of religion being grateful
to the people, not a doubt remained in her mind; every opportunity
which had been afforded her of investigating the matter, since she first
landed in France, had given her so strong a conviction of it, that it
could not be increased by any thing she was about to witness. But
another experiment which was to be made on the occasion was a greater
subject of curiosity; and this was, that the procession and ceremonies
were to be in some sort a revival of the ancient court splendour and
pageantry.
Deeply impressed with this kind of curiosity, and knowing that the only
way to be fully informed of the sentiments of the people was to make one
among them, she and her friends took their stations in the square before
the great entrance to the Palais-royal, where a double rank of soldiers
formed a lane to keep a passage clear for the procession. They procured
chairs from a neighbouring house, which served as seats till the
cavalcade began, and then they stood on them to see it pass. She
describes the ceremonies in the following manner.
The square was thronged with people, and we could with the utmost
facility attend to the sentiments uttered by the circle round us. The
restoration of religion seemed to engage but a small part of their
attention--that was an idea so familiar to them, that it had almost
ceased to excite emotion; but they were excessively occupied by
speculations on the procession, which report had said was to be one of
the most magnificent sights ever seen in France, at least since the
banishment of royalty with all its brilliant train of appendages.
At length it began:--It consisted first of about five thousand of the
consular guard, part infantry, part cavalry; next followed the carriages
of the senate, the legislative body, the tribunate, and all the public
officers, with those of the foreign ambassadors, and some private
carriages. After these came the eight beautiful cream-coloured horses
which had been just before presented to Bonaparte by the king of Spain,
each led by a young Mameluke, in the costume of his country; and then
Roustan, Bonaparte’s Mameluke, friend, and attendant, upon all
occasions. Then came the coach with the three consuls, drawn by eight
horses, with three footmen behind, who, with the coachmen, were all in
rich liveries, green velvet laced with gold, and bags: the servants of
some of the great public officers were also in bags and liveries. About
a hundred dragoons following the consular carriage closed the
procession.
A sort of cynical philosopher who stood near us made a wry face every
now and then, as the procession passed, and once or twice muttered in
his teeth, _Qui est-ce qui peut dire que cet homme là n’a point de
l’ostentation?_ “Who will pretend to say that this man is not
ostentatious?” But the multitude, after having been lavish of
“_charmant!_” “_superbe!_” “_magnifique!_” and other the like epithets,
to all that preceded the consular carriage, at last, when they saw that
appear with the eight horses, and the rich liveries and bags, gave a
general shout, and exclaimed, _Ah, voilà encore la bourse et la
livrée!--oh, comme ça est beau!--Comme ça fait plaisir! voilà! qui
commence véritablement un peu à prendre couleur!_ “Ah! see there again
the bag and the livery!--Oh, how handsome that is!--What pleasure it
gives to see it!--This begins indeed to assume something like an
appearance!” Nor in the pleasure they felt at the revival of this
parade, did the idea seem once to intrude itself, of examining into the
birth of him who presided over it, or his pretensions to being their
chief magistrate: it was enough that their ancient hobby-horse was
restored, and it was matter of indifference to them by whom the curb
which guided it was held. Among those whom I had a more particular
opportunity of observing, was a well-dressed and respectable-looking
man, about the middle age, who from his appearance might be supposed
some creditable tradesman. He had been standing by me for some time
before the procession began, and we had entered into conversation; he
was eloquent in his eulogium of Bonaparte, for having made such an
extraordinary progress in calming the spirit of faction, which had long
harassed the country; and particularly he spoke with exultation of his
having so entirely silenced the Jacobins, that there appeared every
reason to hope that their influence was fallen, never to rise again. He
was among the most eager in his expressions of admiration of the
procession; and at the conclusion of it, turning to me, he said, with a
very triumphant air and manner, _Comme les Jacobins seront hébêtés de
tout ceci_. “How the Jacobins will be cast down with all this!”
While the procession was passing, the remarks were confined to general
exclamation, as the objects that presented themselves struck the fancy
of the spectators; but when all was gone by, comparisons in abundance
began to fly about, between the splendour here displayed, and the mean
appearance of every thing during the reign of Jacobinism, which all
ended to the disadvantage of the latter, and the advantage of the
present system: _Tout étoit si mesquine dans ce tems là--Ceci est digne
d’une nation telle que la France_. “Every thing was so mean in those
days--This is worthy of such a nation as France.” Some, who were too
much behind to have seen the consular carriage, were eager in their
inquiries about it. They could see, and had admired, the bags and
liveries, but they could not tell what number of horses there were to
the carriage; and they learned, with great satisfaction, that there were
eight. _Ah, c’est bien_, they said, _c’est comme autrefois--enfin nous
reconnoissons notre pays._ “Ah, ’tis well--’tis as formerly--at length
we can recognise our own country again.” And then the troops--never was
any thing seen _plus superbe_, _plus magnifique_--and they were all
French, no Swiss guards. Here the _ancien régime_ came in for a random
stroke.
After discussing these things for a while, the assembly dispersed into
different parts of the town, some going towards the church, to try
whether any thing further was to be seen there; but most went to walk in
the gardens of the Thuilleries, and other parts, to see the preparations
for the illumination in the evening, and thus pass the time away till
the procession was likely to return. We employed ourselves in this
manner; and, after walking about for near two hours, resumed our former
stations. Here we saw the procession return in the same order that it
had gone; when it was received with similar notes of approbation. In the
evening there was a concert for the public in the gardens of the
Thuilleries, and the principal theatres were opened to the public
gratis. The chateau and gardens of the Thuilleries were brilliantly
illuminated, as were the public offices and the theatres, and there were
fireworks in different parts of the town.
A very striking thing observable in this day, was the strong contrast
presented between a great gathering together of the people in France and
in England; and I must own that this contrast was not to the advantage
of my own fellow-countrymen. On such occasions honest John Bull thinks
he does not show the true spirit of liberty, unless he jostles,
squeezes, elbows, and pushes his neighbours about as much as possible.
Among the Parisian populace, on the contrary, there is a peaceableness
of demeanour, a spirit of order, and an endeavour in each individual to
accommodate his neighbour, which I confess I thought far more
pleasing--shall I not say also more civilized--than honest John’s
free-born elbowing and pushing. All the liberty desired by a Frenchman
on such occasions, is that of walking about quietly to observe all that
passes, and of imparting his observations and admiration to his
neighbour; for talk he must--he would feel no pleasure unless he had
some one to whom his feelings could be communicated.
We went the next morning to see the decorations of Nôtre-Dame, before
they were taken down. All that could be done to give the church a
tolerable appearance had been effected; and when full of company its
dilapidated state might perhaps be little seen; but empty, that was
still very conspicuous. The three consuls sat together under a canopy,
Bonaparte in the middle, with Cambaceres on his right hand, and Lebrun
on his left. Opposite to them sat cardinal Caprara, the pope’s legate,
under a corresponding canopy.
A very curious circumstance attending this solemnity was, that the
sermon was preached by the very same person who had preached the sermon
at Rheims on the coronation of Louis XVI., Monsieur Boisgelin, then
archbishop of Aix, in Provence, now archbishop of Tours. His discourse
was allowed by all who heard it to be a very judicious one. He did not
enter into politics, or launch into fulsome flattery of those in power;
but dwelt principally on the necessity of an established religion, not
only as a thing right in itself, but as essential to the preservation of
good morals among the people--illustrating his argument by the excesses
into which they had been led during the temporary abandonment of
religion, and bestowing commendation upon those by whom it had been
restored.[128]
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