eloquent appeals in favour of peace that could possibly be imagined. The
effect produced upon the minds of all present was such as to make the
author of "_Notre Dame de Paris_" a great favourite with the Congress.
An English gentleman near me said to his friend, "I can't understand a
word of what he says, but is it not good?" Victor Hugo concluded his
speech amid the greatest enthusiasm on the part of the French, which was
followed by hurrahs in the old English style. The Convention was
successively addressed by the President of the Brussels Peace Society;
President Mahan of the Oberlin (Ohio) Institute, U.S.; Henry Vincent;
and Richard Cobden. The latter was not only the _lion_ of the English
delegation, but the great man of the Convention. When Mr. Cobden speaks,
there is no want of hearers. The great power of this gentleman lies in
his facts and his earnestness, for he cannot be called an eloquent
speaker. Mr. Cobden addressed the Congress first in French, then in
English; and, with the single exception of Mr. Ewart, M.P., was the only
one of the English delegation that could speak to the French in their
own language.
The Congress was brought to a close at five o'clock, when the numerous
audience dispersed--the citizens to their homes, and the delegates to
see the sights.
I was not a little amused at an incident that occurred at the close of
the first session. On the passage from America, there were in the same
steamer with me, several Americans, and among these, three or four
appeared to be much annoyed at the fact that I was a passenger, and
enjoying the company of white persons; and although I was not openly
insulted, I very often heard the remark, that "That nigger had better be
on his master's farm," and "What could the American Peace Society be
thinking about to send a black man as a delegate to Paris." Well, at the
close of the first sitting of the Convention, and just as I was leaving
Victor Hugo, to whom I had been introduced by an M.P., I observed near
me a gentleman with his hat in hand, whom I recognized as one of the
passengers who had crossed the Atlantic with me in the _Canada_, and who
appeared to be the most horrified at having a negro for a fellow
passenger. This gentleman, as I left M. Hugo, stepped up to me and said,
"How do you do, Mr. Brown?" "You have the advantage of me," said I. "Oh,
don't you know me; I was a fellow passenger with you from America; I
wish you would give me an introduction to Victor Hugo and Mr. Cobden." I
need not inform you that I declined introducing this pro-slavery
American to these distinguished men. I only allude to this, to show what
a change comes over the dreams of my white American brother, by crossing
the ocean. The man who would not have been seen walking with me in the
streets of New York, and who would not have shaken hands with me with a
pair of tongs while on the passage from the United States, could come
with hat in hand in Paris, and say, "I was your fellow-passenger." From
the Salle de St. Cecile, I visited the Column Vendome, from the top of
which I obtained a fine view of Paris and its environs. This is the
Bunker Hill Monument of Paris. On the top of this pillar is a statue of
the Emperor Napoleon, eleven feet high. The monument is built with
stone, and the outside covered with a metallic composition, made of
cannons, guns, spikes, and other warlike implements taken from the
Russians and Austrians by Napoleon. Above 1200 cannons were melted down
to help to create this monument of folly, to commemorate the success of
the French arms in the German Campaign. The column is in imitation of
the Trajan pillar at Rome, and is twelve feet in diameter at the base.
The door at the bottom of the pillar, and where we entered, was
decorated above with crowns of oak, surmounted by eagles, each weighing
500 lbs. The bas-relief of the shaft pursues a spiral direction to the
capitol, and displays, in a chronological order, the principal actions
of the French army, from the departure of the troops from Boulogne to
the battle of Austerlitz. The figures are near three feet high, and
their number said to be two thousand. This sumptuous monument stands on
a plinth of polished granite, surmounted by an iron railing; and, from
its size and position, has an imposing appearance when seen from any
part of the city.
Everything here appears strange and peculiar--the people not less so
than their speech. The horses, carriages, furniture, dress, and manners,
are in keeping with their language. The appearance of the labourers in
caps, resembling nightcaps, seemed particularly strange to me. The women
without bonnets, and their caps turned the right side behind, had
nothing of the look of our American women. The prettiest woman I ever
saw was without a bonnet, walking on the Boulevards. While in Ireland,
and during the few days I was in England, I was struck with the marked
difference between the appearance of the women from those of my own
country. The American women are too tall, too sallow, and too
long-featured to be called pretty. This is most probably owing to the
fact that in America the people come to maturity earlier than in most
other countries.
My first night in Paris was spent with interest. No place can present
greater street attractions than the Boulevards of Paris. The countless
number of cafés, with tables before the doors, and these surrounded by
men with long moustaches, with ladies at their sides, whose very smiles
give indication of happiness, together with the sound of music from the
gardens in the rear, tell the stranger that he is in a different country
from his own.
LETTER IV.
_Versailles--The Palace--Second Session of the Congress--Mr.
Cobden--Henry Vincent--M. Girardin--Abbe Duguerry--Victor Hugo: his
Speech._
VERSAILLES, _August 24_.
After the Convention had finished its sittings yesterday, I accompanied
Mrs. M. C---- and sisters to Versailles, where they are residing during
the summer. It was really pleasing to see among the hundreds of strange
faces in the Convention, those distinguished friends of the slave from
Boston.
Mrs. C----'s residence is directly in front of the great palace where
so many kings have made their homes, the prince of whom was Louis XIV.
The palace is now unoccupied. No ruler has dared to take up his
residence here since Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were driven from it
by the mob from Paris on the 8th of October, 1789. The town looks like
the wreck of what it once was. At the commencement of the first
revolution, it contained one hundred thousand inhabitants; now it has
only about thirty thousand. It seems to be going back to what it was in
the time of Louis XIII., when in 1624 he built a small brick chateau,
and from it arose the magnificent palace which now stands here, and
which attracts strangers to it from all parts of the world.
I arose this morning before the sun, and took a walk through the grounds
of the Palace, and remained three hours among the fountains and statuary
of this more than splendid place. But as I intend spending some days
here, and shall have better opportunities of seeing and judging, I will
defer my remarks upon Versailles for the present.
Yesterday was a great day in the Congress. The session was opened by a
speech from M. Coquerel, the Protestant clergyman in Paris. His speech
was received with much applause, and seemed to create great sensation in
the Congress, especially at the close of his remarks, when he was seized
by the hand by the Abbe Duguerry, amid the most deafening and
enthusiastic applause of the entire multitude. The meeting was then
addressed in English by a short gentleman, of florid complexion. His
words seemed to come without the least difficulty, and his jestures,
though somewhat violent, were evidently studied; and the applause with
which he was greeted by the English delegation, showed that he was a man
of no little distinction among them. His speech was one continuous flow
of rapid, fervid eloquence, that seemed to fire every heart; and
although I disliked his style, I was prepossessed in his favour. This
was Henry Vincent, and his speech was in favour of disarmament.
Mr. Vincent was followed by M. Emile de Girardin, the editor of _La
Presse_, in one of the most eloquent speeches that I ever heard; and his
exclamation of "Soldiers of Peace," drew thunders of applause from his
own countrymen. M. Girardin is not only the leader of the French press,
but is a writer on politics of great distinction, and a leader of no
inconsiderable party in the National Assembly; although still a young
man, apparently not more than thirty-eight or forty years of age.
After a speech from Mr. Ewart, M.P., in French, and another from Mr.
Cobden in the same language, the Convention was brought to a close for
the day. I spent the morning yesterday, in visiting some of the lions of
the French capital, among which was the Louvre. The French Government
having kindly ordered, that the members of the Peace Congress should be
admitted free, and without ticket, to all the public works, I had
nothing to do but present my card of membership, and was immediately
admitted.
The first room I entered, was nearly a quarter of a mile in length; is
known as the "Long Gallery," and contains some of the finest paintings
in the world. On entering this superb palace, my first impression was,
that all Christendom had been robbed, that the Louvre might make a
splendid appearance. This is the Italian department, and one would
suppose by its appearance that but few paintings had been left in Italy.
The entrance end of the Louvre was for a long time in an unfinished
state, but was afterwards completed by that master workman, the Emperor
Napoleon. It was long thought that the building would crumble into
decay, but the genius of the great Corsican rescued it from ruin.
During our walk through the Louvre, we saw some twenty or thirty artists
copying paintings; some had their copies finished and were going out,
others half done, while many had just commenced. I remained some minutes
near a pretty French girl, who was copying a painting of a dog rescuing
a child from a stream of water into which it had fallen.
I walked down one side of the hall and up the other, and was about
leaving, when I was informed that this was only one room, and that a
half-dozen more were at my service; but a clock on a neighbouring church
reminded me that I must quit the Louvre for the Salle de St. Cecile.
* * * * *
This morning the Hall was filled at an early hour with rather a more
fashionable looking audience than on any former occasion, and all
appeared anxious for the Congress to commence its session, as it was
understood to be the last day. After the reading of several letters from
gentlemen, apologising for their not being able to attend, the speech of
Elihu Burritt was read by a son of M. Coquerel. I felt somewhat
astonished that my countryman, who was said to be master of fifty
languages, had to get some one to read his speech in French.
The Abbe Duguerry now came forward amid great cheering, and said that
"the eminent journalist, Girardin, and the great English logician, Mr.
Cobden, had made it unnecessary for any further advocacy in that
assembly of the Peace cause--that if the principles laid down in the
resolutions were carried out, the work would be done. He said that the
question of general pacification was built on truth--truth which
emanated from God--and it were as vain to undertake to prevent air from
expanding as to check the progress of truth. It must and would
prevail."
A pale, thin-faced gentleman next ascended the platform (or tribune, as
it was called) amid shouts of applause from the English, and began his
speech in rather a low tone, when compared with the sharp voice of
Vincent, or the thunder of the Abbe Duguerry. An audience is not apt to
be pleased or even contented with an inferior speaker, when surrounded
by eloquent men, and I looked every moment for manifestations of
disapprobation, as I felt certain that the English delegation had made a
mistake in applauding this gentleman who seemed to make such an
unpromising beginning. But the speaker soon began to get warm on the
subject, and even at times appeared as if he had spoken before. In a
very short time, with the exception of his own voice, the stillness of
death prevailed throughout the building. The speaker, in the delivery of
one of the most logical speeches made in the Congress, and despite of
his thin, sallow look, interested me much more than any whom I had
before heard. Towards the close of his remarks, he was several times
interrupted by manifestations of approbation; and finally concluded amid
great cheering. I inquired the gentleman's name, and was informed that
it was Edward Miall, editor of the _Nonconformist_.
After speeches from several others, the great Peace Congress of 1849,
which had brought men together from nearly all the governments of
Europe, and many from America, was brought to a final close by a speech
from the President, returning thanks for the honour that had been
conferred upon him. He said, "My address shall be short, and yet I have
to bid you adieu! How resolve to do so? Here, during three days, have
questions of the deepest import been discussed, examined, probed to the
bottom; and during these discussions, counsels have been given to
governments which they will do well to profit by. If these days'
sittings are attended with no other result, they will be the means of
sowing in the minds of those present, gems of cordiality which must
ripen into good fruit. England, France, Belgium, Europe, and America,
would all be drawn closer by these sittings. Yet the moment to part has
arrived, but I can feel that we are strongly united in heart. But before
parting I may congratulate you and myself on the result of our
proceedings. We have been all joined together without distinction of
country; we have all been united in one common feeling during our three
days' communion. The good work cannot go back, it must advance, it must
be accomplished. The course of the future may be judged of by the sound
of the footsteps of the past. In the course of that day's discussion, a
reminiscence had been handed up to one of the speakers, that this was
the anniversary of the dreadful massacre of St. Bartholomew: the rev.
gentleman who was speaking turned away from the thought of that
sanguinary scene with pious horror, natural to his sacred calling. But
I, who may boast of firmer nerve, I take up the remembrance. Yes, it was
on this day, two hundred and seventy-seven years ago, that Paris was
roused from slumber by the sound of that bell which bore the name of
_cloche d'argent_. Massacre was on foot, seeking with keen eye for its
victim--man was busy in slaying man. That slaughter was called forth by
mingled passions of the worst description. Hatred of all kinds was there
urging on the slayer--hatred of a religious, a political, a personal
character. And yet on the anniversary of that same day of horror, and in
that very city whose blood was flowing like water, has God this day
given a rendezvous to men of peace, whose wild tumult is transformed
into order, and animosity into love. The stain of blood is blotted out,
and in its place beams forth a ray of holy light. All distinctions are
removed, and Papist and Huguenot meet together in friendly communion.
(Loud cheers.) Who that thinks of these amazing changes can doubt of the
progress that has been made? But whoever denies the force of progress
must deny God, since progress is the boon of Providence, and emanated
from the great Being above. I feel gratified for the change that has
been effected, and, pointing solemnly to the past, I say let this day be
ever held memorable--let the 24th of August, 1572, be remembered only
for the purpose of being compared with the 24th of August, 1849; and
when we think of the latter, and ponder over the high purpose to which
it has been devoted--the advocacy of the principles of peace--let us not
be so wanting in reliance on Providence as to doubt for one moment of
the eventful success of our holy cause."
The most enthusiastic cheers followed this interesting speech. A vote of
thanks to the government, and three times three cheers, with Mr. Cobden
as "fugleman," ended the great Peace Congress of 1849.
Time for separating had arrived, yet all seemed unwilling to leave the
place, where for three days men of all creeds and of no creed had met
upon one common platform. In one sense the meeting was a glorious
one--in another, it was mere child's play; for the Congress had been
restricted to the discussion of certain topics. They were permitted to
dwell on the blessings of peace, but were not allowed to say anything
about the very subjects above all others that should have been brought
before the Congress. A French army had invaded Rome and put down the
friends of political and religious freedom, yet not a word was said in
reference to it. The fact is, the Committee permitted the Congress to
be _gagged_, before it had met. They put padlocks upon their own mouths,
and handed the keys to the government. And this was sorely felt by many
of the speakers. Richard Cobden, who had thundered his anathemas against
the Corn Laws of his own country, and against wars in every clime, had
to sit quiet in his fetters. Henry Vincent, who can make a louder speech
in favour of peace, than almost any other man, and whose denunciations
of "all war," have gained him no little celebrity with peace men, had to
confine himself to the blessings of peace. Oh! how I wished for a
Massachusetts atmosphere, a New England Convention platform, with
Wendell Phillips as the speaker, before that assembled multitude from
all parts of the world.
But the Congress is over, and cannot now be made different; yet it is to
be hoped that neither the London Peace Committee, nor any other men
having the charge of getting up such another great meeting, will commit
such an error again.
LETTER V.
_M. de Tocqueville's Grand Soiree--Madame de Tocqueville--Visit of the
Peace Delegates to Versailles--The Breakfast--Speechmaking--The
Trianons--Waterworks--St. Cloud--The Fête._
VERSAILLES, _August 24_.
The day after the close of the Congress, the delegates and their friends
were invited to a soirée by M. de Tocqueville, Minister for Foreign
Affairs, to take place on the next evening (Saturday); and, as my
coloured face and curly hair did not prevent my getting an invitation, I
was present with the rest of my peace brethren.
Had I been in America, where colour is considered a crime, I would not
have been seen at such a gathering, unless as a servant. In company with
several delegates, we left the Bedford Hotel for the mansion of the
Minister of Foreign Affairs; and, on arriving, we found a file of
soldiers drawn up before the gate. This did not seem much like peace:
however, it was merely done in honour of the company. We entered the
building through massive doors and resigned ourselves into the hands of
good-looking waiters in white wigs; and, after our names were duly
announced, were passed from room to room till I was presented to Madame
de Tocqueville, who was standing near the centre of the large
drawing-room, with a bouquet in her hand. I was about passing on, when
the gentleman who introduced me intimated that I was an "American
slave." At the announcement of this fact the distinguished lady extended
her hand and gave me a cordial welcome--at the same time saying, "I hope
you feel yourself free in Paris." Having accepted an invitation to a
seat by the lady's side, who seated herself on a sofa, I was soon what I
most dislike, "the observed of all observers." I recognised among many
of my own countrymen, who were gazing at me, the American Consul, Mr.
Walsh. My position did not improve his looks. The company present on
this occasion were variously estimated at from one thousand to fifteen
hundred. Among these were the Ambassadors from the different countries
represented at the French metropolis, and many of the _elite_ of Paris.
One could not but be interested with the difference in dress, looks, and
manners of this assemblage of strangers whose language was as different
as their general appearance. Delight seemed to beam in every countenance
as the living stream floated from one room to another. The house and
gardens were illuminated in the most gorgeous manner. Red, yellow, blue,
green, and many other coloured lamps, suspended from the branches of the
trees in the gardens, gave life and animation to the whole scene out of
doors. The soirée passed off satisfactorily to all parties; and by
twelve o'clock I was again at my Hotel.
* * * * *
Through the politeness of the government the members of the Congress
have not only had the pleasure of seeing all the public works free, and
without special ticket, but the palaces of Versailles and St. Cloud,
together with their splendid grounds, have been thrown open, and the
water-works set to playing in both places. This mark of respect for the
Peace movement is commendable in the French; and were I not such a
strenuous friend of free speech, this act would cause me to overlook the
padlocks that the government put upon our lips in the Congress.
Two long trains left Paris at nine o'clock for Versailles; and at each
of the stations the company were loudly cheered by the people who had
assembled to see them pass. At Versailles, we found thousands at the
station, who gave us a most enthusiastic welcome. We were blessed with a
goodly number of the fair sex, who always give life and vigour to such
scenes. The train had scarcely stopped, ere the great throng were
wending their ways in different directions, some to the cafés to get
what an early start prevented their getting before leaving Paris, and
others to see the soldiers who were on review. But most bent their steps
towards the great palace.
At eleven o'clock we were summoned to the _dejeuner_, which had been
prepared by the English delegates in honour of their American friends.
About six hundred sat down at the tables. Breakfast being ended, Mr.
Cobden was called to the chair, and several speeches were made. Many
who had not an opportunity to speak at the Congress, thought this a
good chance; and the written addresses which had been studied during the
passage from America, with the hope that they would immortalize their
authors before the great Congress, were produced at the breakfast table.
But speech-making was not the order of the day. Too many thundering
addresses had been delivered in the Salle de St. Cecile, to allow the
company to sit and hear dryly written and worse delivered speeches in
the Teniscourt.
There was no limited time given to the speakers, yet no one had been on
his feet five minutes, before the cry was heard from all parts of the
house, "Time, time." One American was hissed down, another took his seat
with a red face, and a third opened his bundle of paper, looked around
at the audience, made a bow, and took his seat amid great applause. Yet
some speeches were made, and to good effect, the best of which was by
Elihu Burritt, who was followed by the Rev. James Freeman Clark. I
regretted very much that the latter did not deliver his address before
the Congress, for he is a man of no inconsiderable talent, and an
acknowledged friend of the slave.
The cry of "The water-works are playing," "The water is on," broke up
the meeting, without even a vote of thanks to the Chairman; and the
whole party were soon revelling among the fountains and statues of Louis
XIV. Description would fail to give a just idea of the grandeur and
beauty of this splendid place. I do not think that any thing can surpass
the fountain of Neptune, which stands near the Grand Trianon. One may
easily get lost in wandering through the grounds of Versailles, but he
will always be in sight of some life-like statue. These monuments,
erected to gratify the fancy of a licentious king, make their appearance
at every turn. Two lions, the one overturning a wild boar, the other a
wolf, both the production of Fillen, pointed out to us the fountain of
Diana. But I will not attempt to describe to you any of the very
beautiful sculptured gods and goddesses here.
With a single friend I paid a visit to the two Trianons. The larger was,
we were told, just as king Louis Philippe left it. One room was
splendidly fitted up for the reception of Her Majesty Queen Victoria;
who, it appeared, had promised a visit to the French Court; but the
French Monarch ran away from his throne before the time arrived. The
Grand Trianon is not larger than many noblemen's seats that may be seen
in a day's ride through any part of the British empire. The building has
only a ground floor, but its proportions are very elegant.