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On the morning in question, he began talking gaily and gallantly concerning the pleasures of Paris, and expressed his hope that we were taking care to profit by the present interval of public tranquillity.
"Is this interval of calm likely to be followed by a storm?" said one of the party.
"Mais ... que sais-je?... The weather is so fine now, you know.... And the opera? en verite, c'est superbe!... Have you seen it yet?"
"Seen what?"
"Eh! mais, 'La Juive'! ... a present il n'y a que cela au monde....
You read the journals?"
"Yes; Galignani's at least."
"Ah! ah!" said he, laughing; "c'est a.s.sez pour vous autres."
"Is there any interesting news to-day in any of the papers?"
"Interessante? ... mais, oui ... a.s.sez.... Cependant...." And then again he rattled on about plays, b.a.l.l.s, concerts, and I know not what.
"I wish you would tell me," said I, interrupting him, "whether you think, that in case any popular movement should occur, the English would be molested, or in any way annoyed."
"Non, madame--je ne le crois pas--surtout les femmes. Cependant, si j'etais vous, Madame Trollope, je me donnerai pour le moment le nom d'O'Connell."
"And that, you think, would be accepted as a pa.s.sport through any scene of treason and rebellion?" said I.
He laughed again, and said that was not exactly what he meant; but that O'Connell was a name revered in France as well as at Rome, and might very likely belong one day or other to a pope, if his generous wishes for an Irish republic were too dear to his heart to permit him ever to accept the t.i.tle of king.
"An Irish republic? ... perhaps that is just what is wanted," said I.
But not wishing to enter into any discussion on the niceties of speech, I waived the compliments he began to pay me on this liberal sentiment, and again asked him if he thought anything was going on amongst the friends of the prisoners that might impede the course of justice.
Though not aware of the quibble with which I had replied to him, he answered me by another, saying with energy--
"No! ... never!... They will never do anything to impede the course of justice."
"Will they do anything to a.s.sist it?" said I.
He sprang from his chair, gave a bound across the room, as if to hide his glee by looking out of the window, and when he showed his face again, said with much solemnity--"They will do their duty."
The conversation continued for some time longer, wavering between politics and dissipation; and though we could not obtain from him anything approaching to information respecting what might be going on among his hot-headed party, yet it seemed clear that he at least hoped for something that would lead to important results.
The riddle was explained a very few hours after he left us. The political prisoners, most of whom were lodged in the prison of Ste.
Pelagie, have been removed to the Luxembourg; and it was confidently hoped and expected by the republicans that enough malcontents would be found among the citizens of Paris to get up a very satisfactory _emeute_ on the occasion. But never was hope more abortive: not the slightest public sensation appears to have been excited by this removal; and I am a.s.sured that the whole republican party are so bitterly disappointed at this, that the most sanguine among them have ceased for the present to antic.i.p.ate the triumph of their cause. I suspect, therefore, that it will be some time before we shall receive another visit from our riot-loving friend.
Meanwhile preparations are going on in a very orderly and judicious style at the Luxembourg. The trial-chamber and all things connected with it are completed; tents have been pitched in the gardens for the accommodation of the soldiers, and guards stationed in such a manner in all directions as to ensure a reasonable chance of tranquillity to the peaceable.
We have attended a review of very fine troops in the Place du Carrousel, composed of National Guards, troops of the line, and that most superb-looking body of munic.i.p.al troops called _La Garde de Paris_. These latter, it seems, have performed in Paris since the revolution of 1830 the duties of that portion of the police formerly called _gendarmerie_; but the name having fallen into disrepute in the capital--(_les jeunes gens_, _par exemple_, could not bear it)--the t.i.tle of _Garde de Paris_ has been accorded to them instead, and it is now only in the provinces that _gendarmes_ are to be found. But let them be called by what name they may, I never saw any corps of more superb appearance. Men and horses, accoutrements and discipline, all seem perfect. It is amusing to observe how slight a thread will sometimes suffice to lead captive the most unruly spirits.
"What is there in a name?"
Yet I have heard it a.s.serted with triumphant crowings by some of the revolutionary set, that, thanks to their valour! the odious system was completely changed--that _gendarmes_ and _mouchards_ no longer existed in Paris--that citizens would never again be tormented by their hateful _surveillance_--and, in short, that Frenchmen were redeemed from thraldom now and for evermore; so now they have _La Garde de Paris_, just to take care of them: and if ever a set of men were capable of performing effectually the duties committed to their charge, I think it must be this well-drilled stalworth corps.
The appearance of a large body of the National Guard too, when brought together, as at a review, in full military style, is very imposing.
The eye at once sees that they are not ordinary troops. All the appointments are in excellent order; and the very material of which their uniform is made, being so much less common than usual, helps to produce this effect. Not to mention that the uniform itself, of dark blue, with the delicately white pantaloons, is peculiarly handsome on parade; much more so, I think, though perhaps less calculated for a battle-field, than the red lower garments by which the troops of the French line are at present distinguished.
The king looks well on horseback--so do his sons. The whole staff, indeed, was gay and gallant-looking, and in style as decidedly aristocratic as any prince need desire. Shouts of "_Vive le Roi!_"
ran cheerily and l.u.s.tily along the lines; and if these may be trusted as indications of the feelings of the soldiery towards King Philippe, he may, I think, feel quite indifferent as to whatever other vows may be uttered concerning him in the distance.
But in this city of contradictions one can never sit down safely to ruminate upon any one inference or conclusion whatever; for five minutes afterwards you are a.s.sured by somebody or other that you are quite wrong, utterly mistaken, and that the exact contrary of what you suppose is the real fact. Thus, on mentioning in the evening the cordial reception given by the soldiers to the king in the morning, I received for answer--"Je le crois bien, madame; les officiers leur commandent de le faire."
We remained a good while on the ground, and saw as much as the confinement of a carriage would permit. Like all reviews of well-dressed, well-appointed troops, it was a gay and pretty spectacle; and notwithstanding the caustic reprimand for my faith in empty sounds which I have just repeated to you, I am still of opinion that King Philippe had every reason to be contented with his troops, and with the manner in which he was received by them.
Every hour that one remains at Paris increases, I think, one's conviction of the enormous power and importance of the National Guard.
Our volunteer corps, in the season of threatenings and danger, gave us unquestionably an immense accession of strength; and had the threatener dared to come, neither his legions nor his eagles, his veterans nor his victories, would have saved him from utter destruction. He knew this, and he came not: he knew that the little island was bristling from her centre to her sh.o.r.e with arms raised to strike, by the impulse of the heart and soul, and not by conscription; he knew this, and wisely came not.
Our volunteers were armed men--armed in a cause that warmed their blood; and it is sufficient to establish their importance, that History must record the simple fact, that Napoleon looked at them and turned away. But, great as was the power of this critical show of volunteer strength among us, as a permanent force it was trifling when compared to the present National Guard of France. Not only are their numbers greater--Paris alone has eighty thousand of them,--but their discipline is perfect, and their practical habits of being on duty keep them in such daily activity, that a tocsin sounded within their hearing would suffice to turn out within an hour nearly the whole of this force, not only completely armed, equipped, and in all respects fit for service--not only each one with his quarters and rations provided, but each one knowing and feeling the importance of the duty he is upon as intimately as the general himself; and each one, in addition to all other feelings and motives which make armed men strong, warmed with the consciousness that it is his own stronghold, his own property, his own castle, as well as his own life, that he is defending.
This force will save France from devouring her own vitals, if anything can do it.
Among all the novelties produced by the ever-growing experience of men, and of which so many have ripened in these latter days, I doubt if any can be named more rationally calculated to fulfil the purpose for which it is intended than this organization of a force formed of the industrious and the orderly part of a community to keep in check the idle and disorderly,--and that, without taxing the state, compromising their professional usefulness, or sacrificing their personal independence, more than every man in his senses would be willing to do for the purpose of keeping watch and ward over all that he loves and values on earth.
The more the power of such a force as this increases, the farther must the country where it exists be from all danger of revolution. Such men are, and must be, conservatives in the strongest sense of the word; and though it may certainly be possible for some who may be rebel to the cause of order to get enrolled among them, the danger of the enterprise will unquestionably prevent its frequent recurrence. The wolf might as safely mount guard in the midst of armed shepherds and their dogs, as demagogues and agitators place themselves in the ranks of the National Guard of Paris.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Drawn & Etched by A. Hervieu.
"PRO PATRIA!"
London, Published by Richard Bentley. 1835.]
LETTER XVIII.
First Day of the Trials.--Much bl.u.s.tering, but no riot.--All alarm subsided.--Proposal for inviting Lord B----m to plead at the Trial.--Society.--Charm of idle conversation.--The Whisperer of good stories.
6th May 1835.
The monster is hatched at last! The trials began yesterday, and we are all rejoicing exceedingly at having found ourselves alive in our beds this morning. What will betide us and it, as its scales or its plumes push forth and gather strength from day to day, I know not; but "sufficient for the day is the evil thereof;" and I do a.s.sure you in very sober earnest, that when Galignani's paper arrived this morning, the party round the breakfast-table was greatly comforted by finding that nothing more alarming than a few republican demands on the part of the prisoners, and a few monarchical refusals on the part of the court, took place.
This interchange of hostilities commenced by some of the accused refusing to answer when their names were called;--then followed a demand for free admission to the chamber, during the trials, for the mothers, wives, and all other females belonging to the respective families of the prisoners;--and next, a somewhat bl.u.s.tering demand for counsel of their own choosing; the body of legal advocates, who, by general rule and common usage, are always charged with the defence of prisoners, not containing, as it should seem, orators sufficiently of their own _clique_ to content them.
This was of course stoutly refused by the court, after retiring, however, for a couple of hours to deliberate upon it--a ceremony I should hardly have supposed necessary. The company of the ladies, too, was declined; and as, upon a moderate computation, their numerical force could not have amounted to less than five hundred, this want of gallantry in the Peers of France must be forgiven in favour of their discretion.
The gentleman, however, who was appointed, as he said, by the rest, to request the pleasure of their society, declared loudly that the demand for it should be daily renewed. This reminds one of the story of the man who punished his wife for infidelity by making her sit to hear the story of her misdeeds rehea.r.s.ed every day of her life, and pretty plainly indicates that it is the plan of the accused to torment their judges as much as they conveniently can.
One of the prisoners named the celebrated Abbe de Lamennais, author of "Les Paroles d'un Croyant," as his advocate. The _procureur-general_ remarked, that it was for the interest of the defence that the rule for permitting lawyers only to plead should be adhered to.
Next came a demand from one of the accused, in the name of all the rest, that permission for free and unrestrained intercourse between the prisoners of Lyons, Paris, and Ma.r.s.eilles should be allowed. This was answered only by the announcement that "the court was adjourned;"
an intimation which produced an awful clamour; and as the peers quitted the court, they were a.s.sailed with vehement cries of "We protest! ... we protest!... We will make no defence!... We protest!
... we protest!" And so ended the business of the day.