I will not permit this little volume to make its appearance in English
society, without a few words about a people with whom I have mingled
for nearly forty years. When I first came to France, few of my
countrypeople travelled, save those belonging to the rich and
aristocratic classes; it was not, therefore, surprising that those
whose interest it might have been, on both sides of the Channel, to
create a bad feeling between England and France, found little
difficulty in doing so. An Englishman was taught to hate the French as
well as to observe the Ten Commandments; and a Frenchman, on the other
hand, was educated with the idea that his only enemy on the face of the
earth was an Englishman.
I regard this stimulated hostile feeling between two nations which must
ever influence the welfare of the human race more than any others, as
one of the greatest calamities that could curse humanity. We have only
to read history from the days of Agincourt up to our later struggles
with Napoleon I., to come to the conclusion that the two bravest and
the most intelligent nations on the face of the earth have, from
DYNASTIC ambition, and a want of the people knowing each other, been
ever engaged in inflicting mutual disasters, which have impeded for
centuries the progress, civilization, and prosperity of both; whilst
the want of a proper understanding between the two countries has
materially aided in retarding other nations in obtaining that political
emancipation necessary to the happiness of mankind.
I have lived through a period characterized by sanguinary wars and huge
national debts, and have remained in this world long enough to
calculate their results. I am afraid we must often be content with
that empty glory which lives only in the pages of history. A battle
fought fifty years ago appears very often of no more utility than the
splendid tomb of a Necropolis. Events and objects for which men by
thousands were brought together in deadly combat assume, a few years
afterwards, mighty small proportions; and those who have taken part in
deadly struggles, at a later period marvel at the enthusiasm which then
animated them. I am no believer in that era of happiness which some
divines imagine to be so near at hand; nor do I imagine that the next
two or three hundred years will witness the sword turned into the
reaping-hook of peaceful industry; but what I do believe in, and what I
hope for, is that nations will know each other better than they did of
old. It will be more difficult for sovereigns and governments to bring
about wars between neighboring nations now, than it was before the
existence of that intercommunication which in our day has been created
by the press, the railway, and the electric telegraph.
I have lived long enough to find hundreds of my countrymen
participating in a real knowledge of the French, and believing with me
that they are a brave, intelligent, and generous nation. Nearly half a
century of experience amongst them has taught me that there is much to
learn and much that is worthy of imitation in France. The social habits
of the French, and their easy mode of communication, always gain the
admiration, and often invite the attachment of foreigners. They are
less prejudiced than we islanders, and are much more citizens of the
world than ourselves. I have received an immense amount of courtesy in
France; and if there be less of solid friendship--which, however, in
England is based too often on a similarity of birth, position, and
wealth--in France, you have, at least, a greater chance than in England
of making a friend of a man who neither looks to your ancestors nor
your amount of riches before he proffers you the most sincere intimacy,
and, if necessary, disinterested aid, purely on the ground of your own
merit and character.
Many of the better qualities of the French are not discoverable by the
superficial traveller, any more than the sterling qualities of the
Englishman are appreciated by the foreigner who makes a brief sojourn
in Great Britain. Slowly, but, I believe, surely, the agreeable
knowledge that I possess of the French is becoming more universal; and
I cannot but imagine that such a correct appreciation will be fraught
with the most valuable political as well as social results.
Intelligent Englishmen have lived long enough to appreciate the genius
of Napoleon I., whose mode of governing France has been applied by
Napoleon III. with a success which prejudice even has been compelled to
acknowledge. But I remember a period when probably not a dozen
Englishmen could have been found to speak of the first Emperor with the
most ordinary common sense. I will, however, record one honourable
exception to the rule. The late Lord Dudley and Ward, an eccentric, but
able man, was at Vienna, in the midst of a large party, who were all
more or less abusing or depreciating the fallen hero, whose very name
had so long created fear and hatred amongst them. It was naturally
supposed that the Englishman who was silently listening to this
conversation must of course, as the natural enemy of France, approve of
all that had been said. Prince Metternich turned at last to his guest,
and said, "Et vous, my Lord, que pensez vous de Napoleon?" "Je pense,"
replied Lord Dudley, "qu'il a rendu la gloire passee douteuse, et la
renommee future impossible."
As an old soldier and an admirer of the Duke of Wellington, I cannot
altogether admit the entire justice of the observation; yet, spoken by
an Englishman to the enemies of the exiled Emperor, it was a gallant
homage paid to fallen greatness.
The great man who now wields the destinies of France possesses many of
the remarkable qualities of the founder of his dynasty: his energetic
will, his extensive and varied knowledge, his aptitude for government,
his undaunted bravery, and that peculiar tact which leads him to say
the right thing at the right time. But to these rare gifts he joins
the most princely generosity, and a kind and gentle heart: he has never
been known to forsake a friend, or leave unrewarded any proofs of
devotion shown to him in his days of exile. He is adored by the vast
majority of the French nation, and even his political opponents, if
accidentally brought under the influence of his particularly winning
and gracious manner, are, in spite of themselves, charmed and softened.
There can be no doubt that Napoleon III. enjoys a well-merited
popularity, and that there is throughout all classes a deep and earnest
confidence that the honour and glory of France are safe in his hands.
It is just this mighty power, founded on the love and trust of his
people, which is the surest pledge that peace will be maintained
between our country and France. Napoleon III. does not require to
court popularity by pandering to the anti-English prejudices still
retained by a small minority of his subjects; and, unlike the
representatives of less popular dynasties, he can afford to show that
he is not only the beloved and mighty ruler of the French nation, but
also the firm ally and faithful friend of England.