however, infinitely more agreeable than that of making them. The
daring profligacy of all kinds which was exposed to the eyes and the
understanding at Paris before the establishment of the laws, which
have now taken the morals of the people under their protection, was
fast sinking the country into the worst and coarsest species of
barbarism; and there is a sort of patriotism, not belonging to the
kingdom, but to the planet that gave one birth, which must be
gratified by seeing a check given to what tended to lower human nature
itself.
As a matter of hope, and consolation too, under similar evils which
beset us at home, there is much satisfaction to be derived from
perceiving that, however inveterate the taint may appear which
unchecked licentiousness has brought upon a land, there is power
enough in the hands of a vigorous and efficient magistracy to stay its
progress and wipe out the stain. A "Te Deum" for this cleansing law
should be performed in every church in Christendom.
* * * * *
There is something assuredly of more than common political interest in
the present position of France, interesting to all Europe, but most
especially interesting to us. The wildest democracy has been advocated
by her press, and even in her senate. The highest court of justice in
the kingdom has not been held sufficiently sacred to prevent the
utterance of opinions within it which, if acted upon, would have taken
the sceptre from the hands of the king and placed it in those of the
mob. Her journals have poured forth the most unbridled abuse, the most
unmitigated execrations against the acts of the government, and almost
against the persons of its agents. And what has been the result of all
this? Steadily, tranquilly, firmly, and without a shadow of
vacillation, has that government proceeded in performing the duties
intrusted to it by the country. It has done nothing hastily, nothing
rashly, nothing weakly. On first receiving the perilous deposit of a
nation's welfare,--at a moment too when a thousand dangers from within
and without were threatening,--the most cautious and consummate wisdom
was manifested, not only in what it did, but in what it did not do.
Like a skilful general standing on the defensive, it remained still a
while, till the first headlong rush which was intended to dislodge it
from its new position had passed by; and when this was over, it
contemplated well the ground, the force, and the resources placed
under its command, before it stirred one step towards improving them.
When I recollect all the nonsense I listened to in Paris previous to
the trial of the Lyons prisoners; the prophecies that the king would
not DARE to persevere in it; the assurances from some that the
populace would rise to rescue them,--from others, that the peers would
refuse to sit in judgment,--and from more still, that if nothing of
all this occurred in Paris, a counter-revolution would assuredly break
out in the South;--when I remember all this, and compare it to the
steady march of daily-increasing power which has marked every act of
this singularly vigorous government from that period to the present, I
feel it difficult to lament that, at this eventful epoch of the
world's history, power should have fallen into hands so capable of
using it wisely.
Yet, with all this courage and boldness of decision, there has been
nothing reckless, nothing like indifference to public opinion, in the
acts of the French government. The ministers have uniformly appeared
willing to hear and to render reason respecting all the measures they
have pursued; and the king himself has never ceased to manifest the
same temper of mind which, through all the vicissitudes of his
remarkable life, have rendered him so universally popular. But it is
quite clear that, whatever were the circumstances which led to his
being placed on the throne of France, Louis-Philippe can never become
the tool of a faction: I can well conceive him replying, to any
accusation brought against him, in the gentle but dignified words of
Athalie--
"Ce que j'ai fait, Abner, j'ai cru le devoir faire--
Je ne prends point pour juge un peuple téméraire."
And who is there, of all those whom nature, fortune, and education
have placed, as it were, in inevitable opposition to him, but must be
forced to acknowledge that he is right? None, I truly believe,--save
only that unfortunate, bewildered, puzzle-headed set of politicians,
the republicans, who seem still to hang together chiefly because no
other party will have anything to say to them, and because they alone,
of all the host of would-be lawgivers, dare not to seek for
standing-room under the ample shelter of _the doctrine_, inasmuch as
its motto is "Public Order," and the well-known gathering word of
their tribe is "Confusion and Misrule."
There are still many persons, I believe, who, though nowise desirous
themselves of seeing any farther change in the government of France,
yet still anticipate that change must come, because they consider it
impossible that this restless party can long remain quiet. I have
heard several who wish heartily well to the government of
Louis-Philippe express very gloomy forebodings on this subject. They
say, that however beneficial the present order of things has been
found for France, it is vain to hope it should long endure, contrary
to the wish and will of so numerous a faction; especially as the
present government is formed on the doctrine, that the protection of
arts and industry, and the fostering of all the objects connected with
that wealth and prosperity to which the restoration of peace has led,
should be its first object: whereas the republicans are ever ready to
be up and doing in any cause that promises change and tumult, and will
therefore be found, whenever a struggle shall arise, infinitely better
prepared to fight it out than the peaceable and well-contented
majority, of whom they are the declared enemies.
I think, however, that such reasoners are altogether wrong: they leave
out of their consideration one broad and palpable fact, which is,
however, infinitely more important than any other,--namely, that a
republic is a form of government completely at variance with the
spirit of the French people. That it has been already tried and found
to fail, is only one among many proofs that might easily be brought
forward to show this. That love of glory which all the world seems to
agree in attributing to France as one of her most remarkable national
characteristics, must ever prevent her placing the care of her dignity
and her renown in the hands of a mob. It was in a moment of "drunken
enthusiasm" that her first degrading revolution was brought about; and
deep as was the disgrace of it, no one can fairly say that the nation
should be judged by the wild acts then perpetrated. Everything that
has since followed goes to establish the conviction, that France
cannot exist as a republic.
There is a love of public splendour in their nature that seems as much
born with them as their black eyes; and they must have, as a centre to
that splendour, a king and a court, round which they may move, and to
which they may do homage in the face of Europe without fearing that
their honour or their dignity can be compromised thereby. It has been
said (by an Englishman) that the present is the government of the
bourgeoisie, and that Louis-Philippe is "un roi bourgeois." His
Bourbon blood, however, saves him from this jest; and if by "the
government of the bourgeoisie" is meant a cabinet composed of and
sustained by the wealth of the country, as well as its talent and its
nobility, there is nothing in the statement to shock either patrician
pride or regal dignity.
The splendid military pageant in which the French people followed the
imperial knight-errant who led them as conquerors over half Europe,
might well have sufficient charm to make so warlike a nation forget
for a while all the blessings of peace, as well as the more enduring
glory which advancing science and well-instructed industry might
bring. But even had Napoleon not fallen, the delirium of this military
fever could not have been much longer mistaken for national
prosperity by such a country as France; and, happily for her, it was
not permitted to go on long enough to exhaust her strength so entirely
as to prevent her repairing its effects, and starting with fresh
vigour in a far nobler course.
But even now, with objects and ambition so new and so widely different
before their eyes, what is the period to which the memory of the people
turns with the greatest complacency?... Is it to the Convention, or to
the Directory?--Is it to their mimicry of Roman Consulships? Alas! for
the classic young-headed republicans of France!... they may not hope
that their cherished vision can ever endure within the realm of St.
Louis long enough to have its lictors' and its tribunes' robes
definitively decided on.
No! it is not to this sort of schoolboy mummery that Gallic fancies
best love to return,--but to that portentous interval when the bright
blaze of a magnificent meteor shone upon their iron chains, and made
them look like gold. If this be true--if it cannot be denied that the
affections of the French people cling with more gratitude to the
splendid despotism of Napoleon than to any other period of their
history, is it to be greatly feared that they should turn from the
substantial power and fame that now
"Flames in the forehead of the morning sky"
before their eyes, accompanied as they are by the brightest promise of
individual prosperity and well-being, in order to plunge themselves
again into the mingled "blood and mire" with which their republic
begrimed its altars?
Were there even no other assurance against such a deplorable effort at
national self-destruction than that which is furnished by the cutting
ridicule so freely and so generally bestowed upon it, this alone, in a
country where a laugh is so omnipotent, might suffice to reassure the
spirits of the timid and the doubting. It has been said sturdily by a
French interpreter of French feelings, that "si le diable sortait de
l'enfer pour se battre, il se présenterait un Français pour accepter
le défi." I dare say this may be very true, provided said diable does
not come to the combat equipped from the armoury of Ridicule,--in
which case the French champion would, I think, be as likely to run
away as not: and for this reason, if for no other, I truly believe it
to be impossible that any support should now be given in France to a
party which has not only made itself supremely detestable by its
atrocities, but supremely ridiculous by its absurdities.
It is needless to recapitulate here observations already made. They
have been recorded lightly, however, and their effect upon the reader
may not be so serious as that produced upon my own mind by the
circumstances which drew them forth; but it is certain that had not
the terrible and most ferocious plot against the King's life given a
character of horror to the acts of the republican party in France, I
should be tempted to conclude my statement of all I have seen and
heard of them by saying, that they had mixed too much of weakness and
of folly in their literature, in their political acts, and in their
general bearing and demeanour, to be ever again considered as a
formidable enemy by the government.
I was amused the other day by reading in an English newspaper, or
rather in an extract from an Irish one, (The Dublin Journal,) a
passage in a speech of Mr. Daniel O'Connell's to the "Dublin Trades'
Union," the logic of which, allowing perhaps a little for the
well-known peculiarities in the eloquence of the "Emerald Isle,"
reminded me strongly of some of the republican reasonings to which I
have lately listened in Paris.
"The House of Commons," says Mr. Daniel O'Connell, "will always be a
pure and _independent_ body, BECAUSE we are under the lash of our
masters, and we will be kicked out if we do not perform the duties
imposed on us by the people."
* * * * *
Trifling as are the foregoing pages, and little as they may seem
obnoxious to any very grave criticism, I am quite aware that they
expose me to the reproach of having permitted myself to be wrought
upon by the "_wind of doctrine_." I will not deny the charge; but I
will say in defence of this "shadow of turning," (for it is in truth
no more,) that I return with the same steadfast belief which I carried
forth, in the necessity of a government for every country which should
possess power and courage to resist at all times the voice of a
wavering populace, while its cares were steadily directed to the
promotion of the general welfare.
As well might every voice on board a seventy-four be lifted to advise
the captain how to manage her, as the judgment of all the working
classes in a state be offered on questions concerning her government.
A self-regulating populace is a chimera, and a dire one. The French
have discovered this already; the Americans are beginning, as I hear,
to feel some glimmerings of this important truth breaking in upon
them; and for our England, spite of all the trash upon this point that
she has been pleased to speak and to hear, she is not a country likely
to submit, if the struggle should come, to be torn to pieces by her
own mob.
Admirably, however, as this jury-mast of "the doctrine" appears to
answer in France, where the whirlwind and the storm had nearly made
the brave vessel a wreck, it would be a heavy day for England were she
to find herself compelled to have recourse to the same experiment for
safety--for the need of it can never arise without being accompanied
by a necessity for such increased severity of discipline as would be
very distasteful to her. It is true, indeed, that her spars do creak
and crack rather ominously just at present: nevertheless, it will
require a tougher gale than any she has yet had to encounter, before
she will be tempted to throw overboard such a noble piece of heart of
oak as her constitution, which does in truth tower above every other,
and, "like the tall mast of some proud admiral," looks down upon those
around, whether old or new, well-seasoned and durable, or only
skilfully erected for the nonce, with a feeling of conscious
superiority that she would be very sorry to give up.
But whatever the actual position of England may be, it must be
advantageous to her, as well as to every other country in Europe, that
France should assume the attitude she has now taken. The cause of
social order is a common cause throughout the civilised world, and
whatever tends to promote it is a common blessing. Obvious as is this
truth, its importance is not yet fully understood; but the time must
come when it will be,--and then all the nations of the earth will be
heard to proclaim in chorus, that
"Le pire des états, c'est l'état populaire."
THE END.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
Dorset Street, Fleet Street.