Political chances.--Visit from a Republican.--His high
spirits at the prospects before him.--His advice to me
respecting my name.--Removal of the Prisoners from Ste.
Pélagie.--Review.--Garde de Paris.--The National Guard.
We are so accustomed, in these our luckless days, to hear of _émuetes_
and rumours of _émuetes_, here, there, and everywhere, that we
certainly grow nerve-hardened, and if not quite callous, at least we
are almost reckless of the threat. But in this city the business of
getting up riots on the one hand, and putting them down on the other,
is carried on in so easy and familiar a manner, that we daily look for
an account of something of the kind as regularly as for our breakfast
bread; and I begin already to lose in a great degree my fear of
disagreeable results, in the interest with which I watch what is going
on.
The living in the midst of all these different parties, and listening
first to one and then to another of them, is to a foreigner much like
the amusement derived by an idle spectator from walking round a
card-table, looking into all the hands, and then watching the manner
in which each one plays his game.
It has so often happened here, as we all know, that when the game has
appeared over, and the winner in possession of the stake he played
for, they have on a sudden shuffled the cards and begun again, that
people seem always looking out for new chances, new bets, new losses,
and new confusion. I can assure you, that it is a game of considerable
movement and animation which is going on at Paris just now. The
political trials are to commence on Tuesday next, and the republicans
are as busy as a nest of wasps when conscious that their stronghold is
attacked. They have not only been upon the alert, but hitherto in
great spirits at the prospect before them.
The same individual whose alarming communications on this subject I
mentioned to you soon after we came here, called on me again a few
days ago. I never saw a man more altered in the interval of a few
weeks: when I first saw him here, he was sullen, gloomy, and
miserable-looking in the extreme; but at his last visit he appeared
gay, frolicsome, and happy. He was not disposed, however, to talk much
on politics; and I am persuaded he came with a fixed determination not
to indulge our curiosity by saying a word on the subject. But "out of
the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh;" and this gentleman did
not depart without giving us some little intimation of what was
passing in his.
Observe, that I do no treason in repeating to you whatever this young
man said in my hearing; for he assured me the first time I ever saw
him, that he knew me to be "_une absolutiste enragée_;" but that, so
far from fearing to speak freely before me, there was nothing that
would give him so much pleasure as believing that I should publish
every word he uttered on the subject of politics. I told him in
return, that if I did so, it should be without mentioning his name;
for that I should be truly sorry to hear that he had been consigned to
Ste. Pélagie as a rebel on my evidence. So we understand each other
perfectly.
On the morning in question, he began talking gaily and gallantly
concerning the pleasures of Paris, and expressed his hope that we were
taking care to profit by the present interval of public tranquillity.
"Is this interval of calm likely to be followed by a storm?" said one
of the party.
"Mais ... que sais-je?... The weather is so fine now, you know.... And
the opera? en vérité, c'est superbe!... Have you seen it yet?"
"Seen what?"
"Eh! mais, 'La Juive'! ... à présent il n'y a que cela au monde....
You read the journals?"
"Yes; Galignani's at least."
"Ah! ah!" said he, laughing; "c'est assez pour vous autres."
"Is there any interesting news to-day in any of the papers?"
"Intéressante? ... mais, oui ... assez.... Cependant...." And then
again he rattled on about plays, balls, concerts, and I know not what.
"I wish you would tell me," said I, interrupting him, "whether you
think, that in case any popular movement should occur, the English
would be molested, or in any way annoyed."
"Non, madame--je ne le crois pas--surtout les femmes. Cependant, si
j'étais vous, Madame Trollope, je me donnerai pour le moment le nom
d'O'Connell."
"And that, you think, would be accepted as a passport through any
scene of treason and rebellion?" said I.
He laughed again, and said that was not exactly what he meant; but
that O'Connell was a name revered in France as well as at Rome, and
might very likely belong one day or other to a pope, if his generous
wishes for an Irish republic were too dear to his heart to permit him
ever to accept the title of king.
"An Irish republic? ... perhaps that is just what is wanted," said I.
But not wishing to enter into any discussion on the niceties of
speech, I waived the compliments he began to pay me on this liberal
sentiment, and again asked him if he thought anything was going on
amongst the friends of the prisoners that might impede the course of
justice.
Though not aware of the quibble with which I had replied to him, he
answered me by another, saying with energy--
"No! ... never!... They will never do anything to impede the course of
justice."
"Will they do anything to assist it?" said I.
He sprang from his chair, gave a bound across the room, as if to hide
his glee by looking out of the window, and when he showed his face
again, said with much solemnity--"They will do their duty."
The conversation continued for some time longer, wavering between
politics and dissipation; and though we could not obtain from him
anything approaching to information respecting what might be going on
among his hot-headed party, yet it seemed clear that he at least hoped
for something that would lead to important results.
The riddle was explained a very few hours after he left us. The
political prisoners, most of whom were lodged in the prison of Ste.
Pélagie, have been removed to the Luxembourg; and it was confidently
hoped and expected by the republicans that enough malcontents would be
found among the citizens of Paris to get up a very satisfactory
_émeute_ on the occasion. But never was hope more abortive: not the
slightest public sensation appears to have been excited by this
removal; and I am assured that the whole republican party are so
bitterly disappointed at this, that the most sanguine among them have
ceased for the present to anticipate the triumph of their cause. I
suspect, therefore, that it will be some time before we shall receive
another visit from our riot-loving friend.
Meanwhile preparations are going on in a very orderly and judicious
style at the Luxembourg. The trial-chamber and all things connected
with it are completed; tents have been pitched in the gardens for the
accommodation of the soldiers, and guards stationed in such a manner
in all directions as to ensure a reasonable chance of tranquillity to
the peaceable.
We have attended a review of very fine troops in the Place du
Carrousel, composed of National Guards, troops of the line, and that
most superb-looking body of municipal troops called _La Garde de
Paris_. These latter, it seems, have performed in Paris since the
revolution of 1830 the duties of that portion of the police formerly
called _gendarmerie_; but the name having fallen into disrepute in the
capital--(_les jeunes gens_, _par exemple_, could not bear it)--the
title of _Garde de Paris_ has been accorded to them instead, and it is
now only in the provinces that _gendarmes_ are to be found. But let
them be called by what name they may, I never saw any corps of more
superb appearance. Men and horses, accoutrements and discipline, all
seem perfect. It is amusing to observe how slight a thread will
sometimes suffice to lead captive the most unruly spirits.
"What is there in a name?"
Yet I have heard it asserted with triumphant crowings by some of the
revolutionary set, that, thanks to their valour! the odious system was
completely changed--that _gendarmes_ and _mouchards_ no longer existed
in Paris--that citizens would never again be tormented by their
hateful _surveillance_--and, in short, that Frenchmen were redeemed
from thraldom now and for evermore; so now they have _La Garde de
Paris_, just to take care of them: and if ever a set of men were
capable of performing effectually the duties committed to their
charge, I think it must be this well-drilled stalworth corps.
The appearance of a large body of the National Guard too, when brought
together, as at a review, in full military style, is very imposing.
The eye at once sees that they are not ordinary troops. All the
appointments are in excellent order; and the very material of which
their uniform is made, being so much less common than usual, helps to
produce this effect. Not to mention that the uniform itself, of dark
blue, with the delicately white pantaloons, is peculiarly handsome on
parade; much more so, I think, though perhaps less calculated for a
battle-field, than the red lower garments by which the troops of the
French line are at present distinguished.
The king looks well on horseback--so do his sons. The whole staff,
indeed, was gay and gallant-looking, and in style as decidedly
aristocratic as any prince need desire. Shouts of "_Vive le Roi!_"
ran cheerily and lustily along the lines; and if these may be trusted
as indications of the feelings of the soldiery towards King Philippe,
he may, I think, feel quite indifferent as to whatever other vows may
be uttered concerning him in the distance.
But in this city of contradictions one can never sit down safely to
ruminate upon any one inference or conclusion whatever; for five
minutes afterwards you are assured by somebody or other that you are
quite wrong, utterly mistaken, and that the exact contrary of what you
suppose is the real fact. Thus, on mentioning in the evening the
cordial reception given by the soldiers to the king in the morning, I
received for answer--"Je le crois bien, madame; les officiers leur
commandent de le faire."
We remained a good while on the ground, and saw as much as the
confinement of a carriage would permit. Like all reviews of
well-dressed, well-appointed troops, it was a gay and pretty
spectacle; and notwithstanding the caustic reprimand for my faith in
empty sounds which I have just repeated to you, I am still of opinion
that King Philippe had every reason to be contented with his troops,
and with the manner in which he was received by them.
Every hour that one remains at Paris increases, I think, one's
conviction of the enormous power and importance of the National Guard.
Our volunteer corps, in the season of threatenings and danger, gave
us unquestionably an immense accession of strength; and had the
threatener dared to come, neither his legions nor his eagles, his
veterans nor his victories, would have saved him from utter
destruction. He knew this, and he came not: he knew that the little
island was bristling from her centre to her shore with arms raised to
strike, by the impulse of the heart and soul, and not by conscription;
he knew this, and wisely came not.
Our volunteers were armed men--armed in a cause that warmed their
blood; and it is sufficient to establish their importance, that
History must record the simple fact, that Napoleon looked at them and
turned away. But, great as was the power of this critical show of
volunteer strength among us, as a permanent force it was trifling when
compared to the present National Guard of France. Not only are their
numbers greater--Paris alone has eighty thousand of them,--but their
discipline is perfect, and their practical habits of being on duty
keep them in such daily activity, that a tocsin sounded within their
hearing would suffice to turn out within an hour nearly the whole of
this force, not only completely armed, equipped, and in all respects
fit for service--not only each one with his quarters and rations
provided, but each one knowing and feeling the importance of the duty
he is upon as intimately as the general himself; and each one, in
addition to all other feelings and motives which make armed men
strong, warmed with the consciousness that it is his own stronghold,
his own property, his own castle, as well as his own life, that he is
defending.
This force will save France from devouring her own vitals, if anything
can do it.
Among all the novelties produced by the ever-growing experience of
men, and of which so many have ripened in these latter days, I doubt
if any can be named more rationally calculated to fulfil the purpose
for which it is intended than this organization of a force formed of
the industrious and the orderly part of a community to keep in check
the idle and disorderly,--and that, without taxing the state,
compromising their professional usefulness, or sacrificing their
personal independence, more than every man in his senses would be
willing to do for the purpose of keeping watch and ward over all that
he loves and values on earth.
The more the power of such a force as this increases, the farther must
the country where it exists be from all danger of revolution. Such men
are, and must be, conservatives in the strongest sense of the word;
and though it may certainly be possible for some who may be rebel to
the cause of order to get enrolled among them, the danger of the
enterprise will unquestionably prevent its frequent recurrence. The
wolf might as safely mount guard in the midst of armed shepherds and
their dogs, as demagogues and agitators place themselves in the ranks
of the National Guard of Paris.
[Illustration: Drawn & Etched by A. Hervieu.
"PRO PATRIA!"
London, Published by Richard Bentley. 1835.]