IMPRESSIONS OF THE LATE FRENCH REVOLUTION. (To the Editor of the Times.)

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume IV, Issue 317, 12 August 1848, Page 2

IMPRESSIONS OF THE LATE FRENCH REVOLUTION. (To the Editor of the Times.)

Sir, — On my return to England, I hear, with extreme surprise, that what has been passing in France is regarded by many persons, even, of the more educated classes, not only with the interest and admiration which certain features of it are so well calculated to excite, but with unqualified approbation and enthusiasm. Aa it is to be presumed (or

hoped) that the persons who judge the matte are thus led to do 1 so by the persuasion that the change which has been wrought, at so vast and unquestioned an expense of individual suffering and terror, is for ■ the good of the people, and that the people are convinced it is so, allow an eye-witness to recommend to them a little more careful inquiry into facts, apd a little more thoughtful view into the future. It is impossible that any who are excited to enthusiasm by a relation of these astonishing events can feel so profound an interest in the French people as those who, like myself, owe life and property to their forbearance ; who have seen and heard from eye-witnesses various touching traits of magnanimity, and who have been the objects of generous solicitude on the part of men trembling for the very existence of their all, and so worn out with incessant watching, that they might well have been forgiven for losjng all recollection of the dangers or fears of strangers. Personally, then, the impressions I received were calculated to raise my opinion of the French people, and to strengthen my attachment to the country, rather than the contrary. It is, perhaps, for this very reason — it is because 1 do care a great deal more for France than those who so recklessly hail this disorganization of the entire frame of her society, that I view it on the contrary, with the profounriest regret, sadness, and alarm. I must add that these, and no other, are the sentiments which 1 have heard expressed by Frenchmen of every party and of every class, without exception. I have seen daily and intimately persons of all parties ; Legitimatists, Conservateurs, or Adherents of the late government — adherents of the Mole Ministry of half-an-honr — adherents of the Barrot Ministry, equally shortlived — fr'.ends and intimates of members of the Provisional Government. I can most truly and distinctly affirm that I saw and heard nothing from any of them, but alarm and consternation, mingled with the strongest condemnation of the two conflicting parties whose obstinacy had brought about a collision which everybody had feared, 'though no one's fears had come within the widest range of the reality. I heard only expressions of the conviction that the present order of things could not last ; that in spite of the heroic efforts, the excellent intentions, and the acknowledged talents of several members of the Government, it had undertaken to construct an edifice which must fall, and crush them under its ruins : that it \as now forced by fear upon promises, and would be forced upon acts, utterly inconsistent with the stability of any Government whatever. In short, the profoundest anxiety and alarm sit at the heart of the educated classes of J "Vance, of whatever party, and not the least, of those whtf have undertaken the awful task of ruling her. Of that you may be fully assured. English Liberals will perhaps say, " This we expected ; but the people ?" Well, I must affirm that, if by " people" they mean the industrious, quiet working classes, the real basis of society, the object of the respect and solicitude of enlightened rulers, — if they mean these men, the alarm and consternation are greater among them than 1 in the higher classes, in proportion to the slenderness of the resources they have to fall back upon ; in many cases this amounts to a sort of blank despair. The more clear-sighted' among them see the terrible chances that await them ; they see capital leaving the country, confidence destroyed, and employment suddenly suspended or withdrawn, to an extent never seen before.' Let me mention a few small but significant facts : — My locksmith told me he had always employed four men ; he had discharged three. An English pastry-cook, who has constantly employed fifteen journeymen, was about to discharge nearly all. Everybody is turning away servants, especially men, as the more expensive. I was fold that good carriage-" horses had been sold for 500 francs each. A vast number of houses are becoming tenantless : the removal of the English alone would make a visible change in this respect. And what, think you, are the feelings of all the tribe of water-carriers, washerwomen, und the humble dependents for existence in these houses? Nothing, during the three days, seemed to me more affecting and alarming than the sight of the humblest ministrants to the prime wants of life rushing from door to door, even in the quietest streets, to gel their hard labour accomplished in safety. Our porteur d'eau was every morning our earliest informant of the events of the night, and I' was struck with the good sense and clearness of bis views, " Ces messieurs parlent dMgaliti" he said ; " est quits veulent stfaire porteur* tPeaux? t'estabsurde — eesonl ties mensonges." (u( u These gentlemen talk of equality ; will they turn water-carriers? It is absurd— these are lies.) "Us vont nous miner tout** (" They are going to ruin us all.") last words I heard frequently repeated by persons of the working classes. A poor.com-

missioner, who, for high piy, and through long detours, conveyed a letter for me on the 23rd, came in looking aghast. " Nuns voilcL sans maitre" (" Here we are, without a master") siid he, " Bon Dieuf quest cc que nous allons devenir?" (" Good God ! what will become of us ?") " Un pays sans maitie cc n'e*t plu* un pays,'* ("A country without a master is no longer a country"); "nous allons retomber dans £a barbaric" (" We shall fall back into barbarism.") This, indeed, was so soon felt by all, that masters were appointed. But has that restored the feeling of reverence for authority, or of confidence in those who wield if, indispensable to civil society ? I heard with astonishment English people on the road saying, " Oh, all is quiet now." "AH is going on very well now." From no Frenchman have I heard this superficial view of the case. Paris is indeed quiet enough, but it is the quiet of exhaustion, fear, distrust, and dejection. The absolute silence of the streets at night was awful. But a few nights j before the 22nd, I had complained of the incessant roll of carriages during this season of balls. From the night of the 26th, to the 3d of March, the most retired village could not have been more utterly noiseless. Not a carriage — not a foot- fall — except at intervals the steady and silent step of the patrol of the National Guard, listened for as the sole guarantee for safety. "Every man," said a grocer, wearing the uniform of the Guard, to me iv his shop, " must now defend his own. We have no protectors but ourselves ; no police ; no army." That so little disturbance to private life occurred iv this elementary state of society is what can never be admired enough ; but to admire the state, or the measures that led to , it, is to abdicate all claim to reason. From the time the National Guard felt that it had to defend what all men have an interest in defending, its exertions have been almost superhuman. A friend of mine, a gentleman of delicate and refined habits, has been in a bed only once between the 22d of February and 2d of March. " Les Parisiens sont sur les dents," said an officer of the line, with whom I travelled from Paris to Amiens. But how long can this last? How long are the gentlemen of Paris to have to escort criminals from the prisons to the courts of justice, or to do duty at the doors of the theatres? Already it is to be hoped some police is organised ; but how long will it be before the people will repose with' confidence under the ordinary protection of the law ? The real deep-seated and deeply felt calamity is the increasing disposition of the French people to resort to violence tor the redress of their grievances. Thinking men see with alarm that this is becoming the habit of the country, or, rather, of Paris. The least orderly, the least trustworthy, the least estimable part of its population, have discovered the secret of their power, and have grown confident from repeated success. They are generally men whom youth, disposition, poverty, and independence of all ties ren 'er consummately careless of life ; they are brave, prompt, and clever. The more sober and stable part of society will not move till the necessity is urgent — that is, till n is too late. When passions and terrors have subsided, and men may safely say what they know and think (which nobody can now), the world will be astonished to learn how insignificant (as force) were the begiunings of this mighty movement. A Frenchman of great intelligence, who followed and watched the whole from first to last, aud who on Tuesday night assured me it was nothing — agaminfrie — related to me the whole fearful growth oi the torrent. The attack on the Government was (as one of your correspondents has justly remarked) contemptible enough, but its extreme unpopularity had left it without defence. The National Guard — little dreaming of what was to come — would not turn out to save a ministry, or even a King, it hated or despised ; the army will never act without the National Guard ; — that is now ascertained and acknowledged. The Government fell before a mob of daring boys, aided by a few desperate men. But nothing can be more complete than the mistake of those who think that the people who were hostile to the Government and the King, intended the total overthrow of the constitution. Even among the armed ruffians who rushed into the Chamber of Deputies, it was only one voice that called out, on the nomination of the Duchess of Orleans as Regent, "// est trop tard." This I heard from a friend who was present, and who witnessed the whole of that dreadful scene ; where all authority, all order, all reverence, whether lor persons or institutions, for youih or age, for rank or worth, for childhood or womaubood — for everything that has ever claimed the respect, the tenderness, the obedience, or the pity of man, who was trodden in the dirt. General — I might almost say universal — as is the conviction in France that the republic cannot stand, that " les choses ne piuvent pa* alter comme ea" (to use the people's exprti-

sion), monarchy has been so completely dragged in the mire, that one cannot but doubt the expediency of attempting to revive it, or the possibility of establishing it on the only •olid basis — the respect of the people. It has, it is true, been very unfortunate in its representative ; for though perfection is not to be expected in a king, some degree of elevation and dignity of sentiment — some of the qualities of a gentleman, are ; at all events tl ey are indispensable ; and the waut of them left Louis Philippe without a friend, and rendered his fall unhonoured and unlamented. But it is one thing to preserve a venerable building from decay and ruin, and another to build it up again when it has been desecrated, polluted, and levelled to the ground. We may well ask, where is the power competent to this task ? I cannot have so little faith in the good sense of my countrymen as to doubt that they will see how suicidal has been the course taken by a portion of the workmen of France. It is impossible that they should be so blinded to their own interests as to believe that any good can result to them from acts which inevitably dry up the sources of national prosperity, destroy trade, and leave vast masses of men without employment. It is impossib'e that they can believe that manufacturers will continue to produce, when there is nobody to buy, or that governments can compel those to consume who have no money to pay. But if there be any who are obnoxious to such gross delusions, I recommend them to go to Paris; to walk along the once gay, and now gloomy boulevards ; to look into the deserted shops ; and, above all, to see the pale, anxious, and unquiet faces in them. These shops, when filled with the buyers, represented the labour of tens of thousands. What becomes of these when they are empty ? " Are you a little more tra quil ?" I said to a cremikre or milkseller, in her little shop, some days after the event. " Not much, Madam; la chose n'est~pas finie ; — things cannot go on thus." She spoke the language of all France. At Amiens people openly avowed their entire dislike to the idea of a Republic, and declaied that they conformed only for the sake of order, and in the confidence that another state of things must arise — the sentiment, we are assured, of nearly all the provinces. But, be opinions what they may, it is consolatory to see that there is now but one party in France, — that of order and peace. The ] Legitimatists, who have so long declined all share in public life, are acting with admirable devotion to their country. There is also a prodigious amount of good f.-eling and good sense in the mass, mingled with the more obvious error and vice, and with deplorable and dangerous ignorance. It is impossible, it would be criminal, to despair of France. But while we look on it with interest, admiration, and hope, let us not fall into so great a blunder as to admire what we see her best sons deplore, or to affect an enthusiasm and a confidence they are so far fiom feeling. Let us imitate them ; let each, according to his station and ability, try to sustain order, to silence malignant passions, to correct dangerous delusions and false hopes, and to support the courage of those who have the will, and may have the power, to save their country and Europe from more terrible calamities. j London, March 6.