Chapter 3

Very much, indeed every thing, depends upon the prudence of France herself. If she shall stop where she is, remain quiet, united and happy at home, and avoid all interference with other governments, the work is done. If, on the other hand, storms should arise within to drive her from her present anchorage, and set the revolution afloat again on a sea of anarchy, every thing is to be feared for herself and for Europe. Is there any danger of such a relapse? That there are domestic malcontents, and perhaps foreign emissaries enough in the kingdom to make the wicked attempt, is probable enough. Is there any reason to believe that such an attempt will succeed?

The great security of France arises from her past experience, which must make her distrust all counsels tending to disunion and disorganization. There is, moreover, an efficient and watchful government in being, under whose jealous vigilance these incendiaries will have to carry on their machinations. What theme can they find of sufficient power to persuade the people of France to leave the port in which they now find themselves safe and happy, and to commit themselves again to those seas of whose dangers they have heretofore had such dreadful experience.

Will it be sympathy for the fallen house of Bourbon? There is no nerve in France that will respond to such an appeal. That house has no place in the affections of the people. It was forced upon them, at the point of the bayonet, in 1814. It has been tried a second time: found to be incurably despotic, and every indication attests that the revolution which has again ejected them from the throne, is, in this respect, popular throughout France. The influence of that family is extinguished for ever, in the kingdom.

Nor do we learn that there is any other competitor for the crown that has a party of sufficient strength to unfurl a banner in his cause with any hope of success. It is not a small faction that can disturb the peace of such a kingdom as that of France, instructed as they must necessarily be by their past experience.

It has been suggested that the limited monarchy which has been established is distasteful to the republicans: and that the match of discord may be applied with success to this party. But Gen. Lafayette is at the head of _the republicans_, and a letter from him which has been recently published is well fitted to quiet our apprehensions on this score. _He_ would have preferred a republic on our model. But the question was not what was best in the abstract, but what was best for France in the situation in which she was placed. What was that situation? The tastes and prejudices of foreign princes were to be consulted to avoid all pretext for interference on their part, and such a government was to be established as the more liberal among them, (England for example,) would promptly recognize. On the other hand, with a view to immediate repose in France, herself, it was indispensably necessary that there should be at once a firm and efficient government, to avoid those factions which are always hatched by protracted revolutions, and fluctuating counsels; witness the afflicting scenes in South America. Hence the necessity of that compromise which he, Gen. Lafayette, says was so promptly made. The wisdom of it, both in its foreign and domestic aspect, is so striking, that the people of France, with the lights of their past experience before them, cannot fail to see it. Nor can those republicans fail to see what Gen. Lafayette has so intelligibly stated in another letter "that although the government be a monarchy, it is a very republican monarchy, _susceptible of farther improvement_:" and they have a king manifestly prepared to yield to any improvement they desire; for he is, in spirit, as much a republican as any man among them.

The people of France finding themselves at once in the actual enjoyment of the sweets of peace and freedom, under the protection of a government mild, conciliating and efficient--open, moreover, to such amendments as experience shall suggest, will hardly be persuaded to go again in quest of anarchy and confusion, with the horrors and the catastrophe of the former revolution full in their view. No: they have not forgotten that fearful lesson: and to suppose them ready, without any necessity, to re-enact that tragedy, is to suppose them madmen, without any other claim upon the sympathies of the world than such as are felt for the inmates of a lunatic asylum.

The quiet and orderly manner in which the people restored the pavement of their streets, purified their city, and went back to their respective occupations, after their battle of three days, was, at that time, a pledge for Paris, always the most to be dreaded of any other part of the kingdom. They acted like honest and sensible workmen. They had a public job to do; they finish it, at once, with all possible moderation and humanity; and then peaceably resume their private pursuits.

Whom have they to quarrel with? The guards, it seems, fired upon them reluctantly, until their hearts would permit them to fire upon their fellow citizens no longer--when they throw down their arms and rush into their embrace in a manner so touching as to leave no doubt of the sincerity and permanency of the reconciliation. France, at large, seems tranquil. A few petty disturbances there may have since been; but they are the mere foam which was to have been expected from the fall of such a water-spout. Should more serious disturbances arise, from any public grievance which demands redress, who can doubt that it will be redressed, and that the people will be satisfied? We have this important guaranty for the tranquillity of France, that Lafayette is in the counsels of the king, and possesses the unbounded confidence of the people. With a perfect knowledge of his countrymen, and with an address of unrivalled tact to soothe and to conciliate, he is, moreover, at the head of the National Guards, and of the whole military force; and possesses, therefore, the power to entreat with energy, where moral persuasion fails. But we have no authentic information to justify the fear that the application of force will become necessary; and we have good reason to distrust those reports which, according to custom, will be continually thrown upon the London Exchange, for the unworthy purpose of speculations in stock.

The quiet and very leisurely manner in which Charles the X. with his family, was permitted to retire from the kingdom, and his reception by the people, every where upon his journey, speak volumes on the subject of the temper of the French, in the very crisis of the revolution. How different from the flight of the unfortunate Louis and his family in 1791--posting by night, in disguise and in dismay--pursued by armed dragoons--finally arrested by the discovery of the keeper of a post-house--and brought back in disgrace to Paris under an armed guard, the informer sitting triumphant above him crowned with laurel--the frantic rabble exulting in his humiliation, and with difficulty restrained from laying violent hands upon him. Charles X. on the contrary, travels, with his family, in open day, by the slowest and easiest journeys, under the respectful escort of the commissaries of the new government; and the people, every where, so far from any vulgar display of insolent triumph, touch their hats in silent respect for the sorrows of the party, with a delicacy of feeling eminently characteristic of the French when in a state of peace, but at the same time with an air of calm decision quite as manifest as their delicacy.

The whole movement stands in striking contrast to the former revolution. In the two legislative houses there was no violence of debate. Differences of opinion there were: but there was no rude and bitter altercation. On the contrary, all was as calm and decorous as it was decisive. And so far from adopting the bloody revolutionary tribunal which characterised the movement of 1789, one of the first measures proposed is the abolition of capital punishment. It was made immediately after the arrest of the late ministers, and was supported by Lafayette; and no one who observes the point of time and knows the man, can mistake the purpose. How noble is this humanity to the fallen; and how strikingly and honorably does it distinguish the present revolution from the vindictive and sanguinary proceedings of that of 1789. Is it not manifest that every man who has had any thing to do with this affair, is acting with direct reference to the former revolution, and with a settled determination to avoid the false steps which led to its miscarriage? And is not this determination a most propitious pledge of the stability and success of the present revolution?

After all--in a case so dependent on the crooked policy of princes, and on the wayward and turbulent passions of man--it is possible that our hopes may be disappointed. Judging, however, by general appearances both in France and out of it, (so far as any authentic information has reached us) we have reason to cherish the hope that that beautiful country is at length as free as she chooses to be, and that the genius and taste, the fine sensibilities and generous affections which so pre-eminently distinguish her, will now have genial skies and full scope for their cultivation and expansion. Sure I am that I speak the sentiments, not only of this city but of the whole United States, when I say, that no nation will hail her success with a truer heart of joy than ours, and that there is none on which we believe that liberty will sit more gracefully and attractively than on hers.

Never has her character appeared in a form so captivating as in the late movement. It has brought forward, among her people, a new class of candidates for foreign respect and admiration: that class which her nobles, in haughty contempt, were wont to style the _canaille_, but who proved themselves, on that occasion, the true noblemen of France, the noblemen of nature. Their conduct throughout the whole movement was marked with the noblest lineaments, and their sudden transition from the shock of arms to the stillness of peace, was sublime. In this they proved their perfect title to liberty by their fitness to enjoy it, and, on a most trying occasion, have presented a model of prudence and wisdom worthy of the remembrance and imitation of us all.

Among the youth of the Polytechnic school, too, there was a beautiful little incident, so characteristic of the fine and delicate sensibility of the French, that I cannot forbear adverting to it. When those boys were required by the present king to designate from among their number the twelve most distinguished in the late conflict, with the view of conferring on them the decorations of the legion of honor--what was their answer? Permit me to read it, as extracted from our papers, for it is one of those things that will bear a second reading.

"_To the Secretary of War_:

"_General_--We come in the name of the Polytechnic school, to express our gratitude on the subject of the crosses of honor awarded to us: but the recompense appearing to us above our services, and, moreover, no one of us deeming himself more worthy than his comrades to receive it, we beg permission to decline accepting them.

"There is a favor, however, we desire to ask of you. One of our comrades, Venneau, perished on the day of the 27th: We recommend to your kindness his father, who is in the service of the government, in the collection of the revenue. We recommend, farther, to your kindness, General, another of our comrades, Charras, dismissed from the schools by General Bourdsoulle on account of his opinions. We ask that he may be restored to our ranks, in which he did good service these few days.

"In the name of the Polytechnic school, the two scholars deputed by their comrades,

J. DUPRESNE, FERRI PISANI.

_August 7th, 1830._"

There is no parade here. It is the simple voice of nature, and goes, at once, to the heart of every reader. Such is France: radiant with taste and feeling and generosity in every department of her society: "in war, the mountain storm--in peace, the gale of spring." Long may the sun of liberty gild with his glories her vine-covered hills, her laughing valleys and her splendid cities.

With no pretence of right, and no wish to interfere with the political institutions of other countries, but, on the contrary, holding it to be the right of all to pursue their own happiness, in their own way, and under the form of government which they deem most conducive to that end--yet believing, as we do, that civil and religious freedom are essential to the happiness of man, and to the development of the high capacities, mental and moral, with which his Creator has endowed him, it is natural for us to rejoice when we see any nation, and more especially one so endeared to us as France, coming, of her own accord, into the fold of free governments. If there be any people who believe that their peace and order and happiness require the curb of a despotic government, be it so: their believing it, is proof enough to us that it is so, with regard to them: And however much we may regret, it is not for us to disturb their repose. Free government is good only for those who understand its value and are prepared for its enjoyment. It cannot be forced, with advantage, upon any people who are not yet ripe for its reception. Nations yet in darkness require, like children, to be disciplined and instructed before they can act with advantage for themselves. Their best instruction from abroad, is the example of other nations; their only proper teachers at home, are their own enlightened patriots; and the wisest process, the gradual diffusion of light among them. That a movement may be premature and end only in abortion and misery, the former example of France has instructed them. That it may be mature, and the deliverance easy, quick and safe, she has now given them a happy and beautiful illustration. It is only by such a revolution as this that the cause of liberty can present an attraction to the world. It is only in such a revolution that the humane and benevolent can take delight.

Charity is due even to the prejudices of princes. They are, probably, as much in the dark on this head, as their subjects. They have been taught from their cradles that they were born to rule, as their subjects have been taught from theirs, that they were born to be ruled. The mistake seems to be mutual, and is, perhaps, equally honest on both sides. Humanity requires that its correction should be attended with as little violence as possible, and this can be best effected by the gradual diffusion of light. Let us be content with the order of nature, which, however slow, is always safest and best. The sun does not spring at once from the nadir to the zenith. Such a leap would bring on a convulsion of nature and the crash of worlds. No: his ascent is gradual. Our eyes are accommodated, without pain, to his increasing light. The landscape is softly and beautifully unfolded, and the planetary system, in the meantime, maintains its harmonious and salutary action. The seasons revolve in their order; and the earth brings forth her flowers and her fruits, in peace. So let us be content to have it in the intellectual world. Let not vain man presume to be wiser than his Maker, and, in a foolish attempt to force the order of nature, create only misery, where he intended happiness.

Let us not fear that the light which has already gone forth will be extinguished. Tyrants might as well attempt to blot the sun from the firmament. They may attempt it; but "He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh them to scorn." The creatures formed for his worship will be permitted to worship him with exalted faculties and full liberty of conscience. Placed here for their common good and happiness, and indued with minds and affections fitted for enlightened intercourse, and the mutual interchange of kind offices, let us not be so impious as to fear that the light which has arisen will be suffered to be put out and the world re-plunged in darkness and barbarity.

Fellow citizens, this light was first struck in our land. The sacred trust is still among us. Let us take care how we guard the holy fire. We stand under a fearful responsibility to our Creator and our fellow creatures. It has been his divine pleasure that we should be sent forth as the harbingers of free government on the earth, and in this attitude we are now before the world. The eyes of the world are upon us; and our example will probably be decisive of the cause of human liberty.

The great argument of despots against free governments is, that large bodies of men are incapable of self-rule, and that the inevitable and rapid tendency of such a government as ours is to faction, strife, anarchy and dissolution. Let it be our effort to give, to the expecting world, a great, practical and splendid refutation of this charge. If we cannot do this, the world may despair. To what other nation can we look to do it? We claim no _natural_ superiority to other nations. We have not the folly to think of it. We claim nothing more than a _natural_ equality. But circumstances have conspired to give us an advantage in making this great political experiment which no other modern nation enjoys. The government under which the fathers of our revolution were born was the freest in Europe. They were rocked in the cradle and nurtured in the principles of British liberty: and the transition from those institutions to our own was extremely easy. They were maturely prepared for the change both by birth and education, and came into existence as a republic under the happiest auspices that can ever again be expected to arise. If, therefore, our experiment shall fail, I say again that the world may well despair. Warned as we are by the taunts of European monarchists, and by the mournful example of all the ancient republics, are we willing to split on the same rock on which we have seen them shipwrecked? Are we willing to give our enemies such a triumph as to fulfil their prophecy and convince the world that self-government is impracticable--a mere chimera--and that man is fit only to be a slave to his fellow man? Are we willing to teach the nations of the earth to despair, and resign themselves at once to the power that crushes them? Shall we forfeit all the bright honors that we have hitherto won by our example, and now admit by our conduct, that, although free government may subsist for a while, under the pressure of extrinsic and momentary causes, yet that it cannot bear a long season of peace and prosperity; but that as soon as thus left to itself, it speedily hastens to faction, demoralization, anarchy and ruin? Are we prepared to make this practical admission by our conduct, and extinguish, ourselves, the sacred light of liberty which has been entrusted to our keeping? Or, shall we not rather show ourselves worthy of this high trust, maintain the advanced post which we have hitherto occupied with so much honor, prove, by our example, that a free government is the best pledge for peace and order and human happiness, and thus continue to light the other nations of the earth on their way to liberty? Who can hesitate between these two alternatives? Who that looks upon that monument that decks the Park, and observes the statue by which it is surmounted, or on this that graces our square, and recalls the occasion on which it was erected, is willing to admit that men are incapable of self-government, and unworthy of the blessing of liberty? No man, I am sure, who has an American heart in his bosom.

Away, then, with all faction, strife and uncharitableness from our land. We are brothers. Let no angry feelings enter our political dwellings. If we differ about measures or about men, (as, from the constitution of our nature, differ we must,) let us remember that we are all but fallible men, and extend to others that charity of which the best of us cannot but feel that we stand in need. We owe this good temper and indulgence to each other as members of the same family, as all interested, and deeply interested, in the preservation of the Union and of our political institutions: and we owe it to the world as the _van-couriers_ of free government on earth, and the guardians of the first altar that has been erected to Liberty in modern times. In the casual differences of opinion that must, from time to time, be expected to arise among us, it is natural that each should think himself right. But let us be content to make that right appear by calm and respectful reasoning. Truth does not require the torch of discord to light her steps. Its flickering and baleful glare can only disturb her course. Her best light is her own pure and native lustre. Measures never lose any thing of their firmness by their moderation. They win their way as much by the candor and kindness with which they are conducted, as by their intrinsic rectitude.

Friends and fellow-citizens, "our lines have fallen to us in pleasant places: yea, we have a goodly heritage." Let us not mar it by vindictive altercations among ourselves, and offend the shades of our departed fathers who left this rich inheritance to us. Let us not tinge with shame and sorrow, the venerable cheek of the last surviving signer of the Declaration of our Independence, whom heaven still spares to our respect and affections. Let us not disappoint the world which still looks to us for a bright example, and is manifestly preparing to follow our steps. Let us not offend that Almighty Being who gave us all these blessings, and who has a right to expect that we will enjoy them in peace and brotherly love. It is His will that we should so enjoy them; and may His will be done.

ADDRESS

OF

THE CITIZENS OF BALTIMORE

TO

THE PEOPLE OF FRANCE.

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