Which Party is it ranks second in the estimation of all?--No
Caricatures against the Exiles.--Horror of a Republic.
I have been taking some pains to discover, by the aid of all the signs
and tokens of public feeling within my reach, who among the different
parties into which this country is divided enjoys the highest degree
of general consideration.
We know that if every man in a town were desired to say who among its
inhabitants he should consider as fittest to hold an employment of
honour and profit, each would probably answer, "Myself:" we know also,
that should it happen, after the avowal of this very natural
partiality, that the name of the second best were asked for, and that
the man named as such by one were so named by all, this second best
would be accounted by the disinterested lookers-on as decidedly the
right and proper person to fill the station. According to this rule,
the right and proper government for France is neither republican, nor
military, nor doctrinaire, but that of a legitimate and constitutional
monarchy.
When men hold office, bringing both power and wealth, consideration
will of necessity follow. That the ministers and their friends,
therefore, should be seen in pride of place, and enjoying the dignity
they have achieved, is natural, inevitable, and quite as it should be.
But if, turning from this every-day spectacle, we endeavour to
discover who it is that, possessing neither power nor place, most
uniformly receive the homage of respect, I should say, without a
shadow of doubt or misgiving, that it was the legitimate royalists.
The triumphant doctrinaires pass no jokes at their expense; no _bons
mots_ are quoted against them, nor does any shop exhibit caricatures
either of what they have been or of what they are.
The republicans are no longer heard to name them, either with rancour
or disrespect: all their wrath is now poured out upon the present
actual power of the prosperous doctrinaires. This, indeed, is in
strict conformity to the principle which constitutes the foundation of
their sect; namely, that whatever exists ought to be overthrown. But
neither in jest nor earnest do they now show hostility to Charles the
Tenth or his family: nor even do the blank walls of Paris, which for
nearly half a century have been the favourite receptacle of all their
wit, exhibit any pleasantries, either in the shape of hieroglyphic,
caricature, or lampoon, alluding to them or their cause.
I have listened repeatedly to sprightly and to bitter jestings, to
judicious and to blundering reasonings, for and against the different
doctrines which divide the country; but in no instance do I remember
to have heard, either in jest or earnest, any revilings against the
exiled race. A sort of sacred silence seems to envelope this theme; or
if it be alluded to at all, it is far from being in a hostile spirit.
"HENRI!" is a name that, without note or comment, may be read _ça et
là_ in every quarter of Paris, that of the Tuileries not excepted: and
on a wall near the Royal College of Henri Quatre, where the younger
princes of the house of Orleans still study, were inscribed not long
ago these very intelligible words:--
"Pour arriver à Bordeaux, il faut passer par Orléans."
In short, whatever feelings of irritation and anger might have existed
in 1830, and produced the scenes which led to the exile of the royal
family, they now seem totally to have subsided.
It does not, however, necessarily follow from this that the majority
of the people are ready again to hazard their precious tranquillity in
order to restore them: on the contrary, it cannot be doubted that were
such a measure attempted at the present moment, it would fail--not
from any dislike of their legitimate monarch, or any affection for
the kinsman who has been placed upon his throne, but wholly and
solely from their wish to enjoy in peace their profitable speculations
at the _Bourse_--their flourishing _restaurans_--their prosperous
shops--and even their tables, chairs, beds, and coffee-pots.
Very different, however, is the feeling manifested towards the
republicans. Never did Napoleon in the days of his most absolute
power, or the descendants of Louis le Grand in those of their proudest
state, contemplate this factious, restless race with such abhorrence
as do the doctrinaires of the present hour. It is not that they fear
them--they have no real cause to do so; but they feel a sentiment made
up of hatred and contempt, which never seems to repose, and which, if
not regulated by wisdom and moderation, is very likely eventually to
lead to more barricades; though to none, I imagine, that the National
Guards may not easily throw down.
It is on the subject of this unpopular _clique_ that by far the
greater part of the ever-springing Parisian jokes expends itself;
though the doctrinaires get it "_pas mal_" in return, as I heard a
national guardsman remark, as we were looking over some caricatures
together. But, in truth, the republicans seem upon principle to offer
themselves as victims and martyrs to the quizzing propensities of
their countrymen. Harlequin does not more scrupulously adhere to his
parti-coloured suit, than do the republicans of Paris to their
burlesque costume. It is, I presume, to show their courage, that they
so ostentatiously march with their colours flying; but the effect is
very ludicrous. The symbolic peculiarities of their dress are classed
and lithographed with infinite fun.
Drolleries, too, on the parvenus of the Empire are to be found for the
seeking; and when they beset King Philippe himself, it should seem
that it is done with all the enthusiasm so well expressed by Garrick
in days of yore:--
"'Tis for my king, and, zounds! I'll do my best!"
The only extraordinary part of all this caricaturing on walls and in
print-shops, is the license taken with those who have power to prevent
it. The principle of legislation on this point appears, with a little
variation, to be that of the old ballad:
"Thoughts, words, and deeds, the statute blames with reason;
But surely _jokes_ were ne'er indicted treason."
In speaking of the parties into which France is divided, the three
grand divisions of Carlists, Doctrinaires, and Republicans naturally
present themselves first and foremost, and, to foreigners in general,
appear to contain between them the entire nation: but a month or two
passed in Paris society suffices to show one that there are many who
cannot fairly be classed with either.
In the first place, the Carlist party by no means contains all those
who disapprove of treating a crown like a ready-made shoe, which, if
it be found to pinch the person it was intended for, may be disposed
of to the first comer who is willing to take it. The Carlist party,
properly so called, demand the restoration of King Charles the Tenth,
the immediate descendant and representative of their long line of
kings--the prince who has been crowned and anointed King of France,
and who, while he remains alive, must render the crowning and
anointing of any other prince an act of sacrilege. Wherefore, in
effect, King Louis-Philippe has not received "_le sacre_:" he is not
as yet the anointed King of France, whatever he may be hereafter.
Henri Quatre is said to have exclaimed under the walls of the capital,
"Paris vaut bien une messe;" and it is probable that Louis-Philippe
Premier thinks so too; but hitherto he has been able to have this
performed only in military style--being incapable, in fact, of going
through the ceremony either civilly or religiously. The Carlists are,
therefore, those only who _en rigueur_ do not approve of any king but
the real one.
The legitimate royalists are, I believe, a much more numerous party.
As strictly attached to the throne and to the principle of regular
and legitimate succession as the Carlists, they nevertheless conceive
that the pressure of circumstances may not only authorise, but render
it imperative upon the country to accept, or rather to permit, the
abdication of a sovereign. The king's leaving the country and placing
himself in exile, is one of the few causes that can justify this; and
accordingly the abdication of Charles Dix is virtual death to him as a
sovereign. But though this is granted, it does not follow in their
creed, that any part of the nation have thereupon a right to present
the hereditary crown to whom they will. The law of succession, they
say, is not to be violated because the king has fled before a popular
insurrection; and having permitted his abdication, the next heir
becomes king. This next heir, however, choosing to follow his royal
father's example, he too becomes virtually defunct, and his heir
succeeds.
This heir is still an infant, and his remaining in exile cannot
therefore be interpreted as his own act. Thus, according to the
reasoning of those who conceive the abdication of the king and the
dauphin to be acts within their own power, and beyond that of the
nation to nullify, Henri, the son of the Duc de Berri, is beyond all
doubt Henri Cinq, Roi de France.
Of this party, however, there are many, and I suspect their number is
increasing, who, having granted the power of setting aside (by his own
act) the anointed monarch, are not altogether averse to go a step
farther, if so doing shall ensure the peace of the country; and
considering the infancy of the rightful heir as constituting
insufficiency, to confess Louis-Philippe as the next in succession to
be the lawful as well as the actual King of the French.
It is this party who I always find have the most to say in support (or
defence) of their opinions. Whether this proceed from their feeling
that some eloquence is necessary to make them pass current, or that
the conviction of their justice is such as to make their hearts
overflow on the theme, I know not; but decidedly the sect of the
"_Parcequ'il est Bourbon_" is that which I find most eager to
discourse upon politics. And, to confess the truth, they have much to
say for themselves, at least on the side of expediency.
It is often a matter of regret with me, that in addressing these
letters to you I am compelled to devote so large a portion of them to
politics; but in attempting to give you some idea of Paris at the
present moment, it is impossible to avoid it. Were I to turn from this
theme, I could only do so by labouring to forget everything I have
seen, everything I see. Go where you will, do what you will, meet whom
you will, it is out of your power to escape it. But observe, that it
is wholly for your sake, and not at all for my own, that I lament it;
for, however flat and unprofitable my report may be, the thing itself,
when you are in the midst of it, is exceedingly interesting.
When I first arrived, I was considerably annoyed by finding, that as
soon as I had noted down some piece of information as an undoubted
fact, the next person I conversed with assured me that it was worth
considerably less than nought; inasmuch as my informer had not only
failed to give me useful instruction on the point concerning which I
was inquiring, but had altogether deluded, deceived, and led me
astray.
These days of primitive matter-of-factness are now, however, quite
passed with me; and though I receive a vast deal of entertainment from
all, I give my faith in return to very few. I listen to the Carlists,
the Henri-Quintists, the Philippists, with great attention and real
interest, but have sometimes caught myself humming as soon as they
have left me,
"They were all of them kings in their turn."
Indeed, if you knew all that happens to me, instead of blaming me for
being too political, you would be very thankful for the care and pains
I bestow in endeavouring to make a digest of all I hear for your
advantage, containing as few contradictions as possible. And truly
this is no easy matter, not only from the contradictory nature of the
information I receive, but from some varying weaknesses in my own
nature, which sometimes put me in the very disagreeable predicament of
doubting if what is right be right, and if what is wrong be wrong.
When I came here, I was a thorough unequivocating legitimatist, and
felt quite ready and willing to buckle on armour against any who
should doubt that a man once a king was always a king--that once
crowned according to law, he could not be uncrowned according to
mob--or that a man's eldest son was his rightful heir.
But, oh! these doctrinaires! They have such a way of proving that if
they are not quite right, at least everybody else is a great deal more
wrong: and then they talk so prettily of England and _our_ revolution,
and our glorious constitution--and the miseries of anarchy--and the
advantages of letting things remain quietly as they are, till, as I
said before, I begin to doubt what is right and what is wrong.
There is one point, however, on which we agree wholly and heartily;
and it is this perhaps that has been the means of softening my heart
thus towards them. The doctrinaires shudder at the name of a republic.
This is not because their own party is regal, but is evidently the
result of the experience which they and their fathers have had from
the tremendous experiment which has once already been made in the
country.
"You will never know the full value of your constitution till you have
lost it," said a doctrinaire to me the other evening, at the house of
the beautiful Princess B----, formerly an energetic propagandiste, but
now a very devoted doctrinaire,--"you will never know how beneficial
is its influence on every hour of your lives, till your Mr. O'Connell
has managed to arrange a republic for you: and when you have tasted
that for about three months, you will make good and faithful subjects
to the next king that Heaven shall bestow upon you. You know how
devoted all France was to the Emperor, though the police was somewhat
tight, and the conscriptions heavy: but he had saved us from a
republic, and we adored him. For a few days, or rather hours, we were
threatened again, five years ago, by the same terrible apparition: the
result is, that four millions of armed men stand ready to protect the
prince who chased it. Were it to appear a third time--which Heaven
forbid!--you may depend upon it that the monarch who should next
ascend the throne of France might play at _le jeu de quilles_ with his
subjects, and no one be found to complain."