THE POLITICAL STATE OF FRANCE.

Southland Times, Issue 1217, 1 March 1870, Page 3

THE POLITICAL STATE OF FRANCE.

The following is M. Prevost-Paradol's second lecture on the above subject, delivered to the members of the Edinburgh Philosophical Society : — The Lecturer, who was received with loud applause, said his plan on the present occasion would be to go through the various classes of French society, marking on the way the special character of each of those classes, and then to sketch some comprehensive views of the French character as a whole. Looking first at the large and solid basis of French society, he spoke of the man who was bearing nearly the whole weight of the social fabric, who paid the greatest bulk of the taxes, and especially of that heavy one which they called the blood-tax — that was, the military service — who is, in short, a kind of ballast for their country — he meant the French peasant. Their nation of peasants was, as a whole, a nation of meritorious and hard-working proprietors, but, at the same time, a nation of small proprietor.', and, as such, timid, and without , strength to stand against, the Government. The influence of the Government was all-powerful on the French peasant- :Eegular payment off* 'taxes, submission to military service, ready obedience to any .representative — high or low — of the Executive, had entered so deeply into the habits of the peasant that he did not consider even the possibility of acting otherwise. It was j the State who chose his justices of peace, who sent a schoolmaster to his village, j brought up and educated his child for a j trifle, and generally for nothing; who, some years later, called up that same child, looks him through to know if he could be turned into a good soldier, and then took him for nine years. It was the State who sent him the tax-collector, and sometimes gave him back part of his money if he has suffered too • much from hail or inundation ; it is the State, who, represented by those two gendarmes, riding every day from village to village, stopping at the peasant's abode, asking him what i he thinks or what he knows- acting as j his best protectors and true friends . in | quiet times, but ready to overawe him and to bully him to the poll when the electoral business has begun. (Laughter.) The modern centralised State, born of the French Eevolution, had inherited the unseen treasure of obedience and fear which had been accumulated in the heart ! of the French peasant by centuries of j feudal despotism. It was that peasantry which the Revolution of 1848 had , suddenly called to political life, and ! pushed on to the polling-box, by the unexpected, institution "of universal suffrage. Still some good results were thereby attained. . The first was to instil, by electoral agitation, a certain life into that inert part of the nation ; the second advantage was to make the educated classes truly familiar for the first time wiih the intellectual , and moral state of the peasantry, and alive to the necessity of. elevating the rural population to the; rank of citizens. Tlie rural canvassing, which universal suffrage had imposed, had revealed one-half of France to the other half, and it has been only when canvassed as a voter that the French peasant had made himself wholly known. To the natural timidity of the rural voters must be added their extraordinary ignorance, and also their most frequent indifference as to the result of the whole proceeding. That indifference was founded on very old experience, coupled with hereditary resignation. One man, when canvassed, auswered :— " I am an oil man, sir, and I know the law well. When my son is twenty years old I look at him as no more my own, but as appertaining to the State as" a soldier. If by chance he is left to me, I consider it as an unexpected blessing, b/ut" ; never as something due." The Lecturer was far from quarreling with such a state of mind, which guaranteed the external safety of the land ; but such rural opinions on the general policy, and on the result of a vote, were scarcely compatible with a sensible and profitable use of universal suffrage. A change was coming, however, in that respect, and had made itself to be felt already in some of the rural elections. The democratical party was now hitting hard at the taxes and the army. They had begun to impress on the mind of the rural voter that he could truly do something to throw off, or at least to alleviate, that old yoke, and if that belief took hold of the peasant's mind, universal suffrage would threaten the country with a new and. unforeseen danger. It would be the increasing difficulty of purveying to the wants of the State. The French peasant was not at all a socialist ; and if he felt ljunself the master, as he lawfully and really was, he would be certainly the most avaricious of masters, and he will incline to treat the State as his celebrated countryman, the Gascon, treated his horse when he resolved that he would teach the poor animal to live without eating. (Laughter.) Glancing next at a small French town, the Lecturer said that the towns :of second and third rate had this common character, that every class was

living there apart, or secluded from the other, without being connected by. any of those ties which the habit of public l'fe and political intercourse had woven between the various classps in England. If there was in such towns a population of workmen, they live anart under "Republican influences; the shopkeepers alike clubbed together, and formed the moat reasonable, and mo j t timid, and quiet part of the town. With these and other elements, there were no associations and other useful works, enterprises, or mept-ngs, and no trace whatever of that nuMi* 1 H r e which was constantly stirring in British towns. There was, however, in these provincial towns, or rather above them, something which never changes nor moves, but which also never sleeps: it was the Catholic Church, much more powerful there than in the wholly rural districts. The power of the Catholic Church had been on the increase for thirty years or so, and the clerical influence had wonderfully progressed during tint period among that same French Bourgeoisie, upper and lower, which had formerly thrown off so decidedly its allegiance to the Catholic Church. It is deemed now in provincial life, a blemish and a fault, not only if you were an opponent to the Church, but even if you w«*re not reckoned among its supporters and friends, and the wealth of the Church had naturally increased. As to the cause of the great change in the moral and social situation of Catholicism in France, the lecturer said it was a political cause, for, in spite of all appearances, the political question had long dominated all other questions. Under the Government of King Louis Philippe, the well-known indifference of the State towards the Church let the thing 3 take their natural course ; and then many in the middle classes, being no more afraid of aristocratical or clerical influence, returned to religion, or beganto ape the nobility by showing goodwill to the Church. But the most decided move of the upper and middle classes towards the Catholic Church had been determined by the resentment and fear which the Eevolution of February 1848, and the threats of socialism, had spread through the conservative part of the nation. It was the conservative reaction against socialism which had mostly revivified clerical influence in France, and that Catholic feeling was so much excited by the events which occurred in Italy, and by the dangers to which Papacy was exposed, that the emperor was obliged to stop short, and to give up or postpone his designs as to the abolishment or transformation of the temporal power. But in the same mannerastheconservative classes were induced to return to Catholic tendencies, the revoltuiomry ehsses, and the democratical party at large, began again, as of old, to consider the Catholic Church as their most powerful and their bitterest enemy. The old struggle between the Eevolution and the Catholic Church had arisen afresh, and was in no time so virulent as ie was now.^ It was now a rule, and nearly a patriotic obligation, among Democrats, to forbid, by a last will, at their funeral, those religious ceremonies which in Catholic countries were so important in the eyes of the public. Therefore, in spite of its moral and material progresses among the conservative classes, the Catholic Church was in danger when, and if a new revolution came. Its best chance was, then, to be cut away from the State, and left free as well as unpaid ; but there were chances also of its being, at least for a short time, treated as a public eneny, not as to its members, but as to its liberties and properties. That Church was a compound of moral greatness and moral miseries, and, when looked at closely, it was easy to understand the admiration and devotion as well as the hatred it inspired. That Church asked , from its ministers a self-denial which might be considered as above the ordinary reach of mankind. It was an old saying of Pascal, that when we tried to be like angels we ran the risk of falling to the level of beasts.. "Well, sometimes that ideal goodness, that superhuman self-denial, is worked by the Catholic Church out of our human clay, and then the sight of such moral beauty is surprising and impressive even to the lightest mind. "W"hen a poor pariah priest, in a rural district, is working for his flock in deep poverty, in cold solitude, in silent charity, in the absolute deprivation of anything which can soften and alleviate the burden of human life, and when he is dbme really to that point of living only for his fellow-creatures, and not one moment for himself, we feel that the limits of natural virtue and of human goodness are rather overstepped, because self-denial is, after all, the true and singular privilege of our kind in this , world, and the farther it goes, the nearer up we come to that mysterious perfection which we feel vaguely to be our end. (Great applause.) The Church kept its strength still in France because the conduct of the clergy was generally good, because the women, who were invested in France with a great social influence, were mostly and earnestly attached to the Church, and also because Christian and natural virtues, blended as they were with religion, enveloped and sustained the Catholic Church, as the ivy which clings .witK. ever new and protective tenacity to some old and decaying construction. (Applause.) In France any change from one form of religious worship to another was of the greatest difficulty, because theological questions did not stand much before general attention, and religion in that country consisted much more in a religious feeling than in a clear and firm adhesion to such or such articles of faith. The Lecturer then passed on to speak of Paris — As to the Revolutions, it was true that the domination of Paris over the country in that special matter was unjust, when Paris itself was under the domination of its lowest classes, as it happened in 1793, and as it might have happened again if the socialist insurrection of 1848 had unfortunately succeeded ; but when a revolution was the common work of the various classes of the capital, as in 1830

for example, then Paris had beenjfn such occurrences the representative, or exacutive power of ' French opinion. ParH., though not, <as was too often believed, in the hands of its workman, was not exclusively a pleasure- town. It was the real capital and ceniTa of pl a n,sure-s°ekers from all the parts of the world ; but what made Parisian pleasure appear more doTiineermgandmore^ absorbing th mit was was that pleasure in Paris was surrouuded with a* wonderful publicity without analogy in mif other capital, and was more mingled and interwoven with intellectual and artistic amusemont thVn in" any other region of the earth, though it must b^ acknowledged that intellectual and artistic pleasure was never or very seldom separated in Paris from other and less noble amusements. If one wished at last to know where the true Paris lay, a3 concerns its real strength and ascendency on the country, one must look above the working classes, and directly under that external and brilliant cover called their pleasure world. There was the Parisian Bourgeoisie, much more enlightened than the provincial middle classes, free from prejudices of any kind, active and thrifty, honest, intelligent, friendly to progress, sensible in all things, far from indifferent to science, literature, and art, but welltempered and well-ordered in all its tastes — in short, it was the moral reserve* of their national good sense and national spirit. (Applause.) It was there that might be seen those especially general" features of the national character which, were to be found at various degrees, but less distinct and less clear ia the other classes. General prudence, and the desire, not so much of wealth as of a quiet and sure competency, was the main feature of French temper. The children were loved in France with a tenderness often excessive, and the law of equal inheritance, which had become a part of the national character, rendered the Frenchman still more prudent, from the perpetual anxiety which he felt about the future of his family. Their marriage customs were to be attributed in a great measure to the constant wish of securing, as far as posible, the future state of the children against the results of equal partition. The inconveniences of that custom were well known; but, on the other side, we were not to believe onehundredth part of what was alleged by sensational novel-writers or scandal-news-papers about the disordered state of | French married life. The French family is far from being worse than elsewhere; and, as a rule, it is . solid and holds fast through some troubles. First, the excessive love for children maintains and protects the family ; then the impossibility of divorcing engages husband and wife to | mutual indulgence and support ; finally, ; the French women have generally a mind [ more clear than their heart is warm, and the same self-control which has enabled them to contract what is called a reasoni able marriage, enables them also to make | the best of it. (Great laughter and api plause.) Our nation is, indeed, said the Lecturer in conclusion, a reasonable one, and much less- led- by fancy than has-been said and A Frenchman has seldom earnest or deep ambition either for real power or for wealth. He is rather ambitious for fame, for praise, for giving a lofty idea of himself to his countrymen, or even to his narrow circle ; and he will be, in fact, consoled easily for many shortcomings, if he knows only that those "around him believe his merit superior to his fortune. He is rather inclined to accept his fate, and to alleviate it by his lively temper, and by a happy facility to enjoy any good thing which civilisation or nature may still ble3s him with. The name of philosopher, in its popular acceptation of a man easy to content, is more truly and more often deserved in our country than in any other land. If our passions are quick, they are short, and do not affect too deeply nor too long our freedom of judgment. And amongst these pleasures which my countrymen are so apt to enjoy, and which alleviate so much for them, even in adversity, 1 the burden of life, I may give the first rank, with something like national pride, to the pleasures of the mind. France, as a whole, is fond of goniusf especially in letters, and is wonderfully quick to mark out and cheer on by public favour any writer who is likely to enlarge the mental enjoyments of the nation, or to add something to its fame. The chivalrous instinct of the nation, even when it lies dormant in dispirited times, is easily stirred up by the impression of that unequal fight, and comes to the rescue of the weak party who has enrolled justice and moral right on his side. I owe to that national tendency even the honor and pleasure of addressing you to-night; for how could my name have come over to you, and how could you haye formed any wish to hear me, if that generous French spirit of which I was just speaking had. not beforehand rewarded me with a repute so much above my merit ? It is therefore, with strict juttice, that I must couple here my grateful, thanks for your kind and honorable reception of. me with a respectful and heartfelb remembrance of the liberal spirit of my country. (Loud cheers.) Sheriff Hallard said — Your applause has already anticipated what I was going to say. I desire leave from you to tender in your name your best thanks to M. Prevost Paradol for the two admirable lectures whiuh he has delivered to U3. (Cheers.) Those lectures will long live in our recollection ; we shall always think of him as an eminent citizen of that anonymous nation of well-wishers of mankind to which such beautiful allusion was made at the close of Tuesday's lecture. (Loud cheers.) It was our duty a few evenings ago to bid him hearty welcome; let na now bid him kindly f irewell, assuring hi ta that he carries along wit'i him uot msrely our best wishes for his personal welfare, but for what, I believe, he has still more at heart — for the sucess of that nobla cause of rational freedom in France, of which he had been in tijie past, and will in time to come, be the most illustrious! defender. (Loud cheers.)