Influence of the late Revolution in France.--General Lafayette--Sketch
of his Private Life.--My visits to him.--His opinion of Louis XVI.--Mr.
Morris and Mr. Crawford.--Duplicity of Louis XVIII.--Charles X.--Marie
Antoinette.--Legitimacy of the Duc de Bordeaux.--Discovery of the Plot
of 1822.--Lafayette's conduct on that occasion.--A negro Spy.--General
Knyphausen.--Louis-Philippe and Lafayette.--My visit to Court.--The
King, the Queen, Madame Adelaide, and the Princesses.--Marshal
Jourdan.--The Duke of Orleans.--Interview with the King.--"_Adieu
l'Amérique!_"--Conversation with Lafayette.--The _Juste
Milieu_.--Monarchy not inconsistent with Republican Institutions.--Party
in favour of the Duc de Bordeaux.
Paris, February, 1832.
Dear ----,
Your speculations concerning the influence of the late revolution, on
the social habits of the French, are more ingenious than true. While the
mass of this nation has obtained less than they had a right to expect by
the severe political convulsions they have endured, during the last
forty years, they have, notwithstanding, gained something in their
rights; and, what is of far more importance, they have gained in a
better appreciation of those rights, as well as in the knowledge of the
means to turn them to a profitable and practical account. The end will
show essential improvements in their condition, or rather the present
time shows it already. The change in polite society has been less
favourable, although even this is slowly gaining in morals, and in a
healthier tone of thought. No error can be greater, than that of
believing France has endured so much, without a beneficial return.
In making up my opinions of the old regime, I have had constant recourse
to General Lafayette for information. The conversations and anecdotes
already sent you, will have prepared you for the fine tone, and perfect
candour, with which he speaks even of his bitterest enemies; nor can I
remember, in the many confidential and frank communications with which I
have been favoured, a single instance where, there has been the smallest
reason to suspect he has viewed men through the medium of personal
antipathies and prejudices. The candour and simplicity of his opinions
form beautiful features in his character; and the _bienséance_ of his
mind (if one may use such an expression) throws a polish over his
harshest strictures, that is singularly adapted to obtain credit for his
judgment.
Your desire to know more of the private life of this extraordinary man,
is quite natural; but he has been so long before the public, that it is
not easy to say anything new. I may, however, give you a trait or two,
to amuse you.
I have seen more of him this winter than the last, owing to the
circumstance of a committee of Americans, that have been appointed to
administer succour to the exiled Poles, meeting weekly at my house, and
it is rare indeed that he is not present on these benevolent occasions.
He has discontinued his own soirées, too; and, having fewer demands on
his time, through official avocations, I gain admittance to him during
his simple and quiet dinners, whenever it is asked.
These dinners, indeed, are our usual hours of meeting, for the
occupations of the General, in the Chamber, usually keep him engaged in
the morning; nor am I commonly at leisure, myself, until about this hour
of the day. In Paris, every one dines, nominally, at six; but the
deputies being often detained a little later, whenever I wish to see
him, I hurry from my own table, and generally reach the Rue d'Anjou in
sufficient season to find him still at his.
On quitting the Hôtel de l'Etat Major, after being dismissed so
unceremoniously from the command of the National Guard, Lafayette
returned to his own neat but simple lodgings in the Rue d'Anjou. The
hotel, itself, is one of some pretensions, but his apartments, though
quite sufficient for a single person, are not among the best it
contains, lying on the street, which is rarely or never the case with
the principal rooms. The passage to them communicates with the great
staircase, and the door is one of those simple, retired entrances that,
in Paris, so frequently open on the abodes of some of the most
illustrious men of the age. Here have I seen princes, marshals, and
dignitaries of all degrees, ringing for admission, no one appearing to
think of aught but the great man within. These things are permitted
here, where the mind gets accustomed to weigh in the balance all the
different claims to distinction; but it would scarcely do in a country,
in which the pursuit of money is the sole and engrossing concern of
life; a show of expenditure becoming necessary to maintain it.
The apartments of Lafayette consist of a large ante-chamber, two salons,
and an inner room, where he usually sits and writes, and in which, of
late, he has had his bed. These rooms are _en suite_, and communicate,
laterally, with one or two more, and the offices. His sole attendants in
town, are the German valet, named Bastien, who accompanied him in his
last visit to America, the footman who attends him with the carriage,
and the coachman (there may be a cook, but I never saw a female in the
apartments). Neither wears a livery, although all his appointments,
carriages, horses, and furniture, are those of a gentleman. One thing
has struck me as a little singular. Notwithstanding his strong
attachment to America and to her usages, Lafayette, while the practice
is getting to be common in Paris, has not adopted the use of carpets. I
do not remember to have seen one, at La Grange, or in town.
When I show myself at the door, Bastien, who usually acts as porter, and
who has become quite a diplomatist in these matters, makes a sign of
assent, and intimates that the General is at dinner. Of late, he
commonly dispenses with the ceremony of letting it be known who has
come, but I am at once ushered into the bed-room. Here I find Lafayette
seated at a table, just large enough to contain one cover and a single
dish; or a table, in other words, so small as to be covered with a
napkin. His little white lap-dog is his only companion. As it is always
understood that I have dined, no ceremony is used, but I take a seat at
the chimney corner, while he goes on with his dinner. His meals are
quite frugal, though good; a _poulet rôti_ invariably making one dish.
There are two or three removes, a dish at a time, and the dinner usually
concludes with some preserves or dried fruits, especially dates, of
which he is extremely fond. I generally come in for one or two of the
latter.
All this time, the conversation is on what has transpired in the
Chambers during the day, the politics of Europe, nullification in
America, or the gossip of the chateau, of which he is singularly well
informed, though he has ceased to go there.
The last of these informal interviews with General Lafayette, was one of
peculiar interest. I generally sit but half an hour, leaving him to go
to his evening engagements, which, by the way, are not frequent; but, on
this occasion, he told me to remain, and I passed nearly two hours with
him.
We chatted a good deal of the state of society under the old regime.
Curious to know his opinions of their private characters, I asked a good
many questions concerning the royal family. Louis XVI. he described as
a-well-meaning man, addicted a little too much to the pleasures of the
table, but who would have done well enough had he not been surrounded
by bad advisers. I was greatly surprised by one of his remarks. "Louis
XVI," observed Lafayette, "owed his death as much to the bad advice of
Gouverneur Morris, as to any one other thing." You may be certain I did
not let this opinion go unquestioned; for, on all other occasions, in
speaking of Mr. Morris, his language had been kind and even grateful. He
explained himself, by adding, that Mr. Morris, coming from a country
like America, was listened to with great respect, and that on all
occasions he gave his opinions against democracy, advising resistance,
when resistance was not only too late but dangerous. He did not call in
question the motives of Mr. Morris, to which he did full justice, but
merely affirmed that he was a bad adviser. He gave me to understand that
the representatives of America had not always been faithful to the
popular principle, and even went into details that it would be improper
for me to repeat. I have mentioned this opinion of Mr. Morris, because
his aristocratical sentiments were no secret, because they were mingled
with no expressions of personal severity, and because I have heard them
from other quarters. He pronounced a strong eulogium on the conduct of
Mr. Crawford, which he said was uniformly such as became an American
minister.
There is nothing, however, novel in these instances, of our
representatives proving untrue to the prominent feeling of the country,
on the subject of popular rights. It is the subject of very frequent
comment in Europe, and sometimes of complaint on the part of those who
are struggling for what they conceive to be their just privileges; many
of them having told me, personally, that our agents frequently stand
materially in their way.
Louis XVIII, Lafayette pronounced to be the _falsest_ man he had ever
met with; to use his own expression, "_l'homme le plus faux_." He gave
him credit for a great deal of talent, but added that his duplicity was
innate, and not the result of his position, for it was known to his
young associates, in early youth, and that they used to say among
themselves, as young men, and in their ordinary gaieties, that it would
be unsafe to confide in the Comte de Provence.
Of Charles X he spoke kindly, giving him exactly a different character.
He thought him the most honest of the three brothers, though quite
unequal to the crisis in which he had been called to reign. He believed
him sincere in his religious professions, and thought the charge of his
being a professed Jesuit by no means improbable.
Marie Antoinette he thought an injured woman. On the subject of her
reputed gallantries he spoke cautiously, premising that, as an American,
I ought to make many allowances for a state of society, that was
altogether unknown in our country. Treating this matter with the
discrimination of a man of the world, and the delicacy of a gentleman,
he added that he entirely exonerated her from all of the coarse charges
that had proceeded from vulgar clamour, while he admitted that she had
betrayed a partiality for a young Swede[1] that was, at least,
indiscreet for one in her situation, though he had no reason to believe
her attachment had led her to the length of criminality.
[Footnote 1: A Count Koningsmarke.]
I asked his opinion concerning the legitimacy of the Duc de Bordeaux,
but he treated the rumour to the contrary, as one of those miserable
devices to which men resort to effect the ends of party, and as
altogether unworthy of serious attention.
I was amused with the simplicity with which he spoke of his own efforts
to produce a change of government, during the last reign. On this
subject he had been equally frank even before the recent revolution,
though there would have been a manifest impropriety in my repeating what
had then passed between us. This objection is now removed in part, and I
may recount one of his anecdotes, though I can never impart to it the
cool and quiet humour with which it was related. We were speaking of the
attempt of 1822, or the plot which existed in the army. In reply to a
question of mine, he said--"Well, I was to have commanded in that
revolution, and when the time came, I got into my carriage, without a
passport, and drove across the country to ----, where I obtained
post-horses, and proceeded as fast as possible towards ----. At ----, a
courier met me, with the unhappy intelligence that our plot was
discovered, and that several of our principal agents were arrested. I
was advised to push for the frontier, as fast as I could. But we turned
round in the road, and I went to Paris, and took my seat in the Chamber
of Deputies. They looked very queer, and a good deal surprised when they
saw me, and I believe they were in great hopes that I had run away. The
party of the ministers were loud in their accusations against the
opposition for encouraging treason, and Perier and Constant, and the
rest of them, made indignant appeals against such unjust accusations. I
took a different course. I went into the tribune, and invited the
ministers to come and give a history of my political life; of my changes
and treasons, as they called them; and said that when they had got
through, I would give the character and history of theirs. This settled
the matter, for I heard no more from them." I inquired if he had not
felt afraid of being arrested and tried. "Not much," was his answer.
"They knew I denied the right of foreigners to impose a government on
France, and they also knew they had not kept faith with France under the
charter. I made no secret of my principles, and frequently put letters
unsealed into the post office, in which I had used the plainest language
about the government. On the whole, I believe they were more afraid of
me than I was of them."
It is impossible to give an idea, in writing, of the pleasant manner he
has of relating these things--a manner that receives additional piquancy
from his English, which, though good, is necessarily broken. He usually
prefers the English in such conversations.
"By the way," he suddenly asked me, "where was the idea of Harvey Birch,
in the Spy, found?" I told him that the thought had been obtained from
an anecdote of the revolution, related to me by Governor Jay, some years
before the book was written. He laughingly remarked that he could have
supplied the hero of a romance, in the person of a negro named Harry (I
believe, though the name has escaped me), who acted as a spy, both for
him and Lord Cornwallis, during the time he commanded against that
officer in Virginia. This negro he represented as being true to the
American cause, and as properly belonging to his service, though
permitted occasionally to act for Lord Cornwallis, for the sake of
gaining intelligence. After the surrender of the latter, he called on
General Lafayette, to return a visit. Harry was in an anteroom cleaning
his master's boots, as Lord Cornwallis entered. "Ha! Master Harry,"
exclaimed the latter, "you are here, are you?" "Oh, yes, masser
Cornwallis--muss try to do little for de country," was the answer. This
negro, he said, was singularly clever and bold, and of sterling
patriotism!
He made me laugh with a story, that he said the English officers had
told him of General Knyphausen, who commanded the Hessian mercenaries,
in 1776. This officer, a rigid martinet, knew nothing of the sea, and
not much more of geography. On the voyage between England and America,
he was in the ship of Lord Howe, where he passed several uncomfortable
weeks, the fleet having an unusually long passage, on account of the bad
sailing of some of the transports. At length Knyphausen could contain
himself no longer, but marching stiffly up to the admiral one day, he
commenced with--"My lord, I know it is the duty of a soldier to be
submissive at sea, but, being entrusted with the care of the troops of
His Serene Highness, my master, I feel it my duty just to inquire, if
it be not possible, that during some of the dark nights, we have lately
had, _we may have sailed past America_?"
I asked him if he had been at the chateau lately. His reply was very
brief and expressive. "The king denies my account of the programme of
the Hôtel de Ville, and we stand in the position of two gentlemen, who,
in substance, have given each other the lie. Circumstances prevent our
going to the Bois de Boulogne to exchange shots," he added, smiling,
"but they also prevent our exchanging visits." I then ventured to say
that I had long foreseen what would be the result of the friendship of
Louis-Philippe, and, for the first time, in the course of our
conversations, I adverted to my own visit to the palace in his company,
an account of which I will extract, for your benefit, from my
note-book.[2]
[Footnote 2: The period referred to was in 1830.]
* * * * *
In the morning I received a note from General Lafayette, in which he
informed me that Mr. M'Lane, who is here on a visit from London, was
desirous of being presented; that there was a reception in the evening,
at which he intended to introduce the minister to England, Mr. Rives not
having yet received his new credentials, and, of course, not appearing
in matters of ceremony. General Lafayette pressed me so strongly to be
of the party, in compliment to Mr. M'Lane, that, though but an
indifferent courtier, and though such a visit was contrary to my quiet
habits, I could do nothing but comply.
At the proper hour, General Lafayette had the good nature to call and
take me up, and we proceeded, at once, for Mr. M'Lane. With this
gentleman we drove to the Palais Royal, my old brother officer, Mr.
T----, who was included in the arrangement, following in his own
carriage.
We found the inner court crowded, and a throng about the entrance to
the great staircase; but the appearance of Lafayette cleared the way,
and there was a movement in the crowd which denoted his great personal
popularity. I heard the words "_des Américains_" passing from one to
another, showing how completely he was identified with us and our
principles, in the public mind. One or two of the younger officers of
the court were at the foot of the stairs to receive him, though whether
their presence was accidental or designed, I cannot say; but I suspect
the latter. At all events the General was received with the profoundest
respect, and the most smiling assiduity.
The ante-chamber was already crowded, but following our leader, his
presence cleared the way for us, until he got up quite near to the
doors, where some of the most distinguished men of France were
collected. I saw many in the throng whom I knew, and the first minute or
two were passed in nods of recognition. My attention was, however, soon
attracted to a dialogue between Marshal Soult and Lafayette, that was
carried on with the most perfect _bonhomie_ and simplicity. I did not
hear the commencement, but found they were speaking of their legs, which
both seemed to think the worse for wear. "But you have been wounded in
the leg, monsieur?" observed Lafayette. "This limb was a little _mal
traité_ at Genoa," returned the marshal, looking down at a leg that had
a very game look: "but you, General, you too, were hurt in America?"
"Oh! that was nothing; it happened more than fifty years ago, and _then
it was in a good cause_--it was the fall and the fracture that made me
limp." Just at this moment, the great doors flew open, and this _quasi_
republican court standing arrayed before us, the two old soldiers limped
forward.
The King stood near the door, dressed as a General of the National
Guards, entirely without decorations, and pretty well tricoloured. The
Queen, Madame Adelaide, the Princesses, and several of the children,
were a little farther removed, the two former standing in front, and
the latter being grouped behind them. But one or two ladies were
present, nor did I see anything at the commencement of the evening of
the Ducs d'Orléans and de Nemours.
Lafayette was one of the first that entered, and of course we kept near
him. The King advanced to meet him with an expression of pleasure--I
thought it studied--but they shook hands quite cordially. We were then
presented by name, and each of us had the honour of shaking hands, if
that can be considered an honour, which fell to the share of quite half
of those who entered. The press was so great that there was no
opportunity to say anything. I believe we all met with the usual
expressions of welcome, and there the matter ended.
Soon after we approached the Queen, with whom our reception had a more
measured manner. Most of those who entered did little more than make a
distant bow to this group, but the Queen manifesting a desire to say
something to our party, Mr. M'Lane and myself approached them. She first
addressed my companion in French, a language he did not speak, and I was
obliged to act as interpreter. But the Queen instantly said she
understood English, though she spoke it badly, and begged he would
address her in his own tongue. Madame Adelaide seemed more familiar with
our language. But the conversation was necessarily short, and not worth
repeating.
Queen Amélie is a woman of a kind, and, I think, intelligent
countenance. She has the Bourbon rather than the Austrian outline of
face. She seemed anxious to please, and in her general air and carriage
has some resemblance to the Duchess of St. Leu.[3] She has the
reputation of being an excellent wife and mother, and, really, not to
fall too precipitately into the vice of a courtier, she appears as if
she may well deserve it. She is thin, but graceful, and I can well
imagine that she has been more than pretty in her youth.
[Footnote 3: Hortense.]
I do not remember a more frank, intelligent, and winning countenance
than that of Madame Adelaide, who is the King's sister. She has little
beauty left, except that of expression; but this must have made her
handsome once, as it renders her singularly attractive now. Her manner
was less nervous than that of the Queen, and I should think her mind had
more influence over her exterior.
The Princess Louise (the Queen of Belgium) and the Princess Marie are
pretty, with the quiet subdued manner of well-bred young persons. The
first is pale, has a strikingly Bourbon face, resembling the profiles on
the French coins; while the latter has an Italian and classical outline
of features, with a fine colour.
They were all dressed with great simplicity; scarcely in high dinner
dress; the Queen and Madame Adelaide wearing evening hats. The
Princesses, as is uniformly the case with unmarried French girls of
rank, were without any ornaments, wearing their hair in the usual
manner.
After the ceremonies of being presented were gone through, I amused
myself with examining the company. This was a levee, not a drawing-room,
and there were no women among the visitors. The men, who did not appear
in uniform, were in common evening dress, which has degenerated of late
into black stocks and trousers.
Accident brought me next to an old man, who had exactly that
revolutionary air which has become so familiar to us by the engravings
of Bonaparte and his generals that were made shortly after the Italian
campaign. The face was nearly buried in neckcloth, the hair was long and
wild, and the coat was glittering, but ill-fitting and stiff. It was,
however, the coat of a _maréchal_; and, what rendered it still more
singular, it was entirely without orders. I was curious to know who this
relic of 1797 might be; for, apart from his rank, which was betrayed by
his coat, he was so singularly ugly as scarcely to appear human. On
inquiry it proved to be Marshal Jourdan.
There was some amusement in watching the different individuals who came
to pay their court to the new dynasty. Many were personally and
familiarly known to me as very loyal subjects of the last reign;
soldiers who would not have hesitated to put Louis-Philippe _au fil de
l'épée_, three months before, at the command of Charles X. But times
were changed. They now came to show themselves to the new sovereign;
most of them to manifest their disposition to be put in the way of
preferment, some to reconnoitre, others to conceal their disaffection,
and all to subserve their own interests. It was laughably easy to
discern who were confident of their reception by being of the ruling
party, who distrusted, and who were indifferent. The last class was
small. A general officer, whom I personally knew, looked like one who
had found his way into a wrong house by mistake. He was a Bonapartist by
his antecedents, and in his true way of thinking; but accident had
thrown him into the hands of the Bourbons, and he had now come to see
what might be gleaned from the House of Orleans. His reception was not
flattering, and I could only compare the indecision and wavering of his
manner to that of a regiment that falters before an unexpected volley.
After amusing ourselves some time in the great throng, which was densest
near the King, we went towards a secondary circle that had formed in
another part of the room, where the Duke of Orleans had appeared. He was
conversing with Lafayette, who immediately presented us all in
succession. The Prince is a genteel, handsome young man, with a face
much more Austrian than that of any of his family, so far as one can
judge of what his younger brothers are likely to be hereafter. In form,
stature, and movements, he singularly resembles W----, and there is also
a good deal of likeness in the face, though in this particular the
latter has the advantage. He was often taken for the Duc de Chartres
during our former residence at Paris. Our reception was gracious, the
heir to the throne appearing anxious to please every one.
The amusing part of the scene is to follow. Fatigued with standing, we
had got chairs in a corner of the room, behind the throng, where the
discourtesy of being seated might escape notice. The King soon after
withdrew, and the company immediately began to go away. Three-fourths,
perhaps, were gone, when an aide-de-camp came up to us and inquired if
we were not the three Americans who had been presented by General
Lafayette? Being answered in the affirmative, he begged us to accompany
him. He led us near a door at the other end of the _salle_, a room of
great dimensions, where we found General Lafayette in waiting. The aide,
or officer of the court, whichever might be his station, passed through
the door, out of which the King immediately came. It appeared to me as
if the General was not satisfied with our first reception, and wished to
have it done over again. The King looked grave, not to say discontented,
and I saw, at a glance, that he could have dispensed with this extra
attention. Mr. M'Lane standing next the door, he addressed a few words
to him in English, which he speaks quite readily, and without much
accent: indeed he said little to any one else, and the few words that he
did utter were exceedingly general and unmeaning. Once he got as far as
T----, whom he asked if he came from New York, and he looked hard at me,
who stood farther from the door, mumbled something, bowed to us all, and
withdrew. I was struck with his manner, which seemed vexed and
unwilling, and the whole thing appeared to me to be awkward and
uncomfortable. I thought it a bad omen for the influence of the General.
By this time the great _salle_ was nearly empty, and we moved off
together to find our carriages. General Lafayette preceded us, of
course, and as he walked slowly, and occasionally stopped to converse,
we were among the last in the ante-chamber. In passing into the last or
outer ante-chamber, the General stopped nearly in the door to speak to
some one. Mr. M'Lane and Mr. T---- being at his side, they so nearly
stopped the way that I remained some distance in the rear, in order not
to close it entirely. My position would give an ordinary observer reason
to suppose that I did not belong to the party. A young officer of the
court (I call them aides, though, I believe, they were merely
substitutes for chamberlains, dignitaries to which this republican reign
has not yet given birth), was waiting in the outer room to pass, but
appeared unwilling to press too closely on a group of which General
Lafayette formed the principal person. He fidgeted and chafed evidently,
but still kept politely at a distance. After two or three minutes the
party moved on, but I remained stationary, watching the result. Room was
no sooner made than the officer brushed past, and gave vent to his
feelings by saying, quite loudly and distinctly, "_Adieu, l'Amérique_!"
It is a pretty safe rule to believe that in the tone of courtiers is
reflected the feeling of the monarch. The attention to General Lafayette
had appeared to me as singularly affected and forced, and the manner of
the King anything but natural; and several little occurrences during the
evening had tended to produce the impression that the real influence of
the former, at the palace, might be set down as next to nothing. I never
had any faith in a republican king from the commencement, but this near
view of the personal intercourse between the parties served to persuade
me that General Lafayette had been the dupe of his own good faith and
kind feelings.
In descending the great stairs I mentioned the occurrence just related
to Mr. M'Lane, adding, that I thought the days of our friend were
numbered, and that a few months would produce a schism between him and
Louis-Philippe. Everything, at the moment, however, looked so smiling,
and so much outward respect was lavished on General Lafayette, that this
opinion did not find favour with my listener, though, I believe, he saw
reason to think differently, after another visit to court. We all got
invitations to dine at the palace in a day or two.
* * * * *
I did not, however, touch upon the "_adieu l'Amérique_," with General
Lafayette, which I have always deemed a subject too delicate to be
mentioned.
He startled me by suddenly putting the question, whether I thought an
executive, in which there should be but one agent, as in the United
States, or an executive, in which there should be three, or five, would
best suit the condition of France? Though so well acquainted with the
boldness and steadiness of his views, I was not prepared to find his
mind dwelling on such a subject, at the present moment. The state of
France, however, is certainly extremely critical, and we ought not to be
surprised at the rising of the people at any moment.
I told General Lafayette, that, in my poor judgment, the question
admitted of a good deal of controversy. Names did not signify much, but
every administration should receive its main impulses, subject to the
common wishes and interests, from a close conformity of views, whether
there were one incumbent or a dozen. The English system certainly made a
near approach to a divided executive, but the power was so distributed
as to prevent much clashing; and when things went wrong, the ministers
resigned; parliament, in effect, holding the control of the executive as
well as of the legislative branches of the government. Now I did not
think France was prepared for such a polity, the French being accustomed
to see a real as well as a nominal monarch, and the disposition to
intrigue would, for a long time to come, render their administrations
fluctuating and insecure. A directory would either control the chambers,
or be controlled by them. In the former case it would be apt to be
divided in itself; in the latter, to agitate the chambers by factions
that would not have the ordinary outlet of majorities to restore the
equilibrium.
He was of opinion himself that the expedient of a directory had not
suited the state of France. He asked me what I thought of universal
suffrage for this country. I told him, I thought it altogether unsuited
to the present condition of France. I did not attach much faith to the
old theory of the necessary connexion between virtue and democracy, as a
cause; though it might, with the necessary limitations, follow as an
effect. A certain degree of knowledge of its uses, _action_, and
objects, was indispensable to a due exercise of the suffrage; not that
it was required every elector should be learned in the theory of
governments, but that he should know enough to understand the general
connexion between his vote and his interests, and especially his rights.
This knowledge was not at all difficult of attainment, in ordinary
cases, when one had the means of coming at facts. In cases that admit of
argument, as in all the questions on political economy, I did not see
that any reasonable degree of knowledge made the matter much better, the
cleverest men usually ranging themselves on the two extremes of all
mooted questions. Concerning the right of every man, who was qualified
to use the power, to have his interests directly represented in a
government, it was unnecessary to speak, the only question being who had
and who had not the means to make a safe use of the right in practice.
It followed from these views, that the great desiderata were to
ascertain what these means were.
In the present state of the world, I thought it absolutely necessary
that a man should be able to read, in order to exercise the right to
vote with a prudent discretion. In countries where everybody reads,
other qualifications might be trusted to, provided they were low and
within reasonable reach of the mass; but, in a country like France, I
would allow no man to vote until he knew how to read, if he were as rich
as Croesus.
I felt convinced the present system could not continue long in France.
It might do for a few years, as a reaction; but when things were
restored to their natural course, it would be found that there is an
unnatural union between facts that are peculiar to despotism, and facts
that are peculiarly the adjuncts of liberty; as in the provisions of the
Code Napoleon, and in the liberty of the press, without naming a
multitude of other discrepancies. The _juste milieu_ that he had so
admirably described[4] could not last long, but the government would
soon find itself driven into strong measures, or into liberal measures,
in order to sustain itself. Men could no more serve "God and Mammon" in
politics than in religion. I then related to him an anecdote that had
occurred to myself the evening of the first anniversary of the present
reign.
[Footnote 4: When the term _juste milieu_ was first used by the King,
and adopted by his followers, Lafayette said in the Chamber, that "he
very well understood what a _juste milieu_ meant, in any particular
case; it meant neither more nor less than the truth, in that particular
case: but as to a political party's always taking a middle course, under
the pretence of being in a _juste milieu_, he should liken it to a
discreet man's laying down the proposition that four and four make
eight, and a fool's crying out, 'Sir, you are wrong, for four and four
make ten;' whereupon the advocate for the _juste milieu_ on system,
would be obliged to say, 'Gentlemen, you are equally in extremes, _four
and four make nine_.'" It is the fashion to say Lafayette wanted
_esprit_. This was much the cleverest thing the writer ever heard in the
French Chambers, and, generally, he knew few men who said more witty
things in a neat and unpretending manner than General Lafayette. Indeed
this was the bias of his mind, which was little given to profound
reflections, though distinguished for a _fort bon sens_.]
On the night in question, I was in the Tuileries, with a view to see the
fireworks. Taking a station a little apart from the crowd, I found
myself under a tree alone with a Frenchman of some sixty years of age.
After a short parley, my companion, as usual, mistook me for an
Englishman. On being told his error, he immediately opened a
conversation on the state of things in France. He asked me if I thought
they would continue. I told him, no; that I thought two or three years
would suffice to bring the present system to a close. "Monsieur," said
my companion, "you are mistaken. It will require ten years to dispossess
those who have seized upon the government, since the last revolution.
All the young men are growing up with the new notions, and in ten years
they will be strong enough to overturn the present order of things.
Remember that I prophesy the year 1840 will see a change of government
in France."
Lafayette laughed at this prediction, which, he said, did not quite
equal his impatience. He then alluded to the ridicule which had been
thrown upon his own idea of "A monarchy with republican institutions,"
and asked me what I thought of the system. As my answer to this, as well
as to his other questions, will serve to lay before you my own opinions,
which you have a right to expect from me, as a traveller rendering an
account of what he has seen, I shall give you its substance, at length.
So far from finding anything as absurd as is commonly pretended in the
plan of a "throne surrounded by republican institutions," it appears to
me to be exactly the system best suited to the actual condition of
France. By a monarchy, however, a real monarchical government, or one in
which the power of the sovereign is to predominate, is not to be
understood, in this instance, but such a semblance of a monarchy as
exists to-day, in England, and formerly existed in Venice and Genoa
under their Doges. la England the aristocracy notoriously rules, through
the king, and I see no reason why in France, a constituency with a base
sufficiently broad to entitle it to assume the name of a republic, might
not rule, in its turn, in the same manner. In both cases the sovereign
would merely represent an abstraction; the sovereign power would be
wielded in his name, but at the will of the constituency; he would be a
parliamentary echo, to pronounce the sentiment of the legislative
bodies, whenever a change of men or a change of measures became
necessary It is very true that, under such a system, there would be no
real separation, in principle, between the legislative and the executive
branches of government; but such is to-day, and such has long been the
actual condition of England, and her statesmen are fond of saving, the
plan "works well." Now, although the plan does not work half as well in
England as is pretended, except for those who more especially reap its
benefits, simply because the legislature is not established on a
sufficiently popular basis, still it works better, on the whole, for the
public, than if the system were reversed, as was formerly the case, and
the king ruled through the parliament, instead of the parliament ruling
through the king. In France the facts are ripe for an extension of this
principle, in its safest and most salutary manner. The French of the
present generation are prepared to dispense with a hereditary and
political aristocracy, in the first place, nothing being more odious to
them than privileged orders, and no nation, not even America, having
more healthful practices or wiser notions on this point than themselves.
The experience of the last fifteen years has shown the difficulty of
creating an independent peerage in France, notwithstanding the efforts
of the government, sustained by the example and wishes of England, have
been steadily directed to that object. Still they have the traditions
and _prestige_ of a monarchy. Under such circumstances, I see no
difficulty in carrying out the idea of Lafayette. Indeed some such
polity is indispensable, unless liberty is to be wholly sacrificed. All
experience has shown that a king, who is a king in fact as well as name,
is too strong for law, and the idea of restraining such a power by
_principles_, is purely chimerical. He may be curtailed in his
authority, by the force of opinion, and by extreme constructions of
these principles; but if this be desirable, it would be better to avoid
the struggle, and begin, at once, by laying the foundation of the system
in such a way as will prevent the necessity of any change.
As respects France, a peerage, in my opinion, is neither desirable nor
practicable. It is certainly possible for the king to maintain a chosen
political corps, as long as he can maintain himself, which shall act in
his interests and do his bidding; but it is folly to ascribe the
attributes that belong to a peerage to such a body of mercenaries. They
resemble the famous mandamus counsellors, who had so great an agency in
precipitating our own revolution, and are more likely to achieve a
similar disservice to their master than any thing else. Could they
become really independent, to a point to render them a masculine feature
in the state, they would soon, by their combinations, become too strong
for the other branches of the government, as has been the case in
England, and France would have a "throne surrounded by aristocratic
institutions." The popular notion that an aristocracy is necessary to a
monarchy, I take it, is a gross error. A titular aristocracy, in some
shape or other, is always the _consequence_ of monarchy, merely because
it is the reflection of the sovereign's favour, policy, or caprice; but
_political_ aristocracies like the peerage, have, nine times in ten,
proved too strong for the monarch. France would form no exception to the
rule; but, as men are apt to run into the delusion of believing it
liberty to strip one of power, although his mantle is to fall on the
few, I think it more than probable the popular error would be quite
likely to aid the aristocrats in effecting their object, after habit had
a little accustomed the nation to the presence of such a body. This is
said, however, under the supposition that the elements of an independent
peerage could be found in France, a fact that I doubt, as has just been
mentioned..
If England can have a throne, then, surrounded by aristocratical
institutions, what is there to prevent France from having a throne
"surrounded by republican institutions?" The word "Republic," though it
does not exclude, does not necessarily include the idea of a democracy.
It merely means a polity, in which the predominant idea is the "public
things," or common weal, instead of the hereditary and inalienable
rights of one. It would be quite practicable, therefore, to establish in
France such an efficient constituency as would meet the latter
conditions, and yet to maintain the throne, as the machinery necessary,
in certain cases, to promulgate the will of this very constituency.
This is all that the throne does in England, and why need it do more in
France? By substituting then a more enlarged constituency, for the
borough system of England, the idea of Lafayette would be completely
fulfilled. The reform in England, itself, is quite likely to demonstrate
that his scheme was not as monstrous as has been affirmed. The throne of
France should be occupied as Corsica is occupied, not for the
affirmative good it does the nation, so much as to prevent harm from its
being occasionally vacant.
In the course of the conversation, I gave to General Lafayette the
following outline of the form of government I could wish to give to
France, were I a Frenchman, and had I a voice in the matter. I give it
to you on the principle already avowed, or as a traveller furnishing his
notions of the things he has seen, and because it may aid in giving you
a better insight into my views of the state of this country.
I would establish a monarchy, and Henry V. should be the monarch. I
would select him on account of his youth, which will admit of his being
educated in the notions necessary to his duty; and on account of his
birth, which would strengthen his nominal government, and, by necessary
connexion, the actual government: for I believe, that, in their hearts,
and notwithstanding the professions to the contrary, nearly half of
France would greatly prefer the legitimate line of their ancient kings
to the actual dynasty. This point settled, I would extend the suffrage
as much as facts would justify; certainly so as to include a million or
a million and a half of electors. All idea of the _représentation_ of
property should be relinquished, as the most corrupt, narrow, and
vicious form of polity that has ever been devised, invariably tending to
array one portion of the community against another, and endangering the
very property it is supposed to protect. A moderate property
_qualification_ might be adopted, in connexion with that of
intelligence. The present scheme in France unites, in my view of the
case, precisely the two worst features of admission to the suffrage that
could be devised. The qualification of an elector is a given amount of
direct contribution. This _qualification_ is so high as to amount to
_représentation_, and France is already so taxed as to make a diminution
of the burdens one of the first objects at which a good government would
aim; it follows, that as the ends of liberty are attained, its
foundations would be narrowed, and the _représentation_ of property
would be more and more assured. A simple property qualification would,
therefore, I think, be a better scheme than the present.
Each department should send an allotted number of deputies, the polls
being distributed on the American plan. Respecting the term of service,
there might arise various considerations, but it should not exceed five
years, and I would prefer three. The present house of peers should be
converted into a senate, its members to sit as long as the deputies. I
see no use in making the term of one body longer than the other, and I
think it very easy to show that great injury has arisen from the
practice among ourselves. Neither do I see the advantage of having a
part go out periodically; but, on the contrary, a disadvantage, as it
leaves a representation of old, and, perhaps, rejected opinions, to
struggle with the opinions of the day. Such collisions have invariably
impeded the action and disturbed the harmony of our own government. I
would have every French elector vote for each senator; thus the local
interests would be protected by the deputies, while the senate would
strictly represent France. This united action would control all things,
and the ministry would be an emanation of their will, of which the king
should merely be the organ.
I have no doubt the action of our own system would be better, could we
devise some plan by which a ministry should supersede the present
executive. The project of Mr. Hillhouse, that of making the senators
draw lots annually for the office of President, is, in my opinion,
better than the elective system; but it would be, in a manner, liable to
the old objection, of a want of harmony between the different branches
of the government. France has all the machinery of royalty, in her
palaces, her parks, and the other appliances of the condition; and she
has, moreover, the necessary habits and opinions, while we have neither.
There is, therefore, just as much reason why France should not reject
this simple expedient for naming a ministry, as there is for our not
adopting it. Here, then, would be, at once, a "throne surrounded by
republican institutions," and, although it would not be a throne as
powerful as that which France has at present, it would, I think, be more
permanent than one surrounded by bayonets, and leave France, herself,
more powerful, in the end.
The capital mistake made in 1830, was that of establishing the _throne_
before establishing the _republic_; in trusting to _men_ instead of
trusting to _institutions_.
I do not tell you that Lafayette assented to all that I said. He had
reason for the impracticability of getting aside the personal interests
which would be active in defeating such a reform, that involved details
and a knowledge of character to which I had nothing to say; and, as
respects the Duc de Bordeaux, he affirmed that the reign of the Bourbons
was over in France. The country was tired of them. It may appear
presumptuous in a foreigner to give an opinion against such high
authority; but, "what can we reason but from what we know?" and truth
compels me to say, I cannot subscribe to this opinion. My own
observation, imperfect though it be, has led to a different conclusion.
I believe there are thousands, even among those who throng the
Tuileries, who would hasten to throw off the mask at the first serious
misfortune that should befall the present dynasty, and who would range
themselves on the side of what is called legitimacy. In respect to
parties, I think the republicans the boldest, in possession of the most
talents compared to numbers, and the least numerous; the friends of the
King (active and passive) the least decided, and the least connected by
principle, though strongly connected by a desire to prosecute their
temporal interests, and more numerous than the republicans; the Carlists
or _Henriquinquists_ the most numerous, and the most generally, but
secretly, sustained by the rural population, particularly in the west
and south.
Lafayette frankly admitted, what all now seem disposed to admit, that it
was a fault not to have made sure of the institutions before the King
was put upon the throne. He affirmed, however, it was much easier to
assert the wisdom of taking this precaution, than to have adopted it in
fact. The world, I believe, is in error about most of the political
events that succeeded the three days.