Memoirs to Illustrate the History of My Time, Volume 1

by François Guizot

The issue of all these vain but tragical plots is well known. Dogged at every step by authority, sometimes even persecuted by the interested zeal of unworthy agents, they produced, in the space of two years, in various parts of France, nineteen capital condemnations, eleven of which were carried into effect. When we look back on these gloomy scenes, the mind is bewildered, and the heart recoils from the spectacle of the contrast which presents itself between sentiments and actions, efforts and results; we contemplate enterprises at the same time serious and harebrained, patriotic ardour joined to moral levity, enthusiastic devotion combined with indifferent calculation, and the same blindness, the same perseverance, united to similar impotence in old and young, in the generals and the soldiers. On the 1st of January, 1822, M. de La Fayette arrived in the vicinity of Béfort to place himself at the head of the insurrection in Alsace. He found the plot discovered, and several of the leaders already in arrest; but he also met others, MM. Ary Scheffer, Joubert, Carrel, and Guinard, whose principal anxiety was to meet and warn him by the earliest notice, and to save him and his son (who accompanied him) by leading them away through unfrequented roads. Nine months later, on the 21st of September in the same year, four young non-commissioned officers, Bories, Raoulx, Goubin, and Pommier, condemned to death for the conspiracy of Rochelle, were on the point of undergoing their sentence; M. de La Fayette and the head committee of the Carbonari had vainly endeavoured to effect their escape. The poor sergeants knew they were lost, and had reason to think they were abandoned. A humane magistrate urged them to save their lives by giving up the authors of their fatal enterprise. All four answered, "We have nothing to reveal," and then remained obstinately silent. Such devotion merited more thoughtful leaders and more generous enemies.

In presence of such facts, and in the midst of the warm debates they excited in the Chamber, the situation of the conspiring Deputies was awkward; they neither avowed their deeds nor supported their friends. The violence of their attacks against the Ministry and the Restoration in general, supplied but a poor apology for this weakness. Secret associations and plots accord ill with a system of liberty; there is little sense or dignity in conspiring and arguing at the same time. It was in vain that the Deputies who were not implicated endeavoured to shield their committed and embarrassed colleagues; it was in vain that General Foy, M. Casimir Perrier, M. Benjamin Constant, and M. Lafitte, while protesting with vehemence against the accusations charged upon their party, endeavoured to cast the mantle of their personal innocence over the actual conspirators, who sat by their sides. This manœuvre, more blustering than formidable, deceived neither the Government nor the public; and the conspiring Deputies lost more reputation than they gained security, by being thus defended while they were disavowed, in their own ranks. M. de La Fayette became impatient of this doubtful and unworthy position. During the sitting of the 1st of August, 1822, with reference to the debate on the budget, M. Benjamin Constant complained of a phrase in the act of accusation drawn up by the Attorney-General of Poictiers, against the conspiracy of General Berton, and in which the names of five Deputies were included without their being prosecuted. M. Lafitte sharply called upon the Chamber to order an inquiry into transactions "which," said he, "as far as they affect myself are infamous falsehoods." M. Casimir Perrier and General Foy supported the motion for inquiry. The Cabinet and the right-hand party rejected it, while defending the Attorney-General and his statements. The Chamber appeared perplexed. M. de La Fayette demanded to be heard, and, with a rare and happy expression of ironical pride, said, "Whatever may be my habitual indifference to party accusations and enmities, I feel called upon to add a few words to what has been said by my honourable friends. Throughout the course of a career entirely devoted to the cause of liberty, I have constantly desired to be a mark for the malevolence of the adversaries of that cause, under whatever forms, whether despotic, aristocratic, or monarchical, which they may please to select, to contest or pervert it. I therefore make no complaint, although I may claim the right of considering the word proved, which the Attorney-General has thought proper to apply to me, a little free; but I join with my friends by demanding, as far as we can, the utmost publicity, both within the walls of this Chamber and in the face of the entire nation. Thus I and my accusers, in whatever rank they may be placed, can say to each other, without restraint, all that we have had mutually to reproach ourselves with during the last thirty years."

The challenge was as transparent as it was fierce. M. de Villèle felt the full range of it, which extended even to the King himself; and taking up the glove at once, with a moderation which in its turn was not deficient in dignity, "The orator I follow," said he, "placed the question on its true footing when he said, in speaking of the Chamber, 'as far as we can.' Yes, it is of the utmost importance that, on the subject under discussion, the truth or falsehood should be correctly known; but do we adopt the true method of ascertaining either? Such is not my opinion; if it were, I should at once vote for the inquiry. The proper mode of proceeding appears to me to be, to leave justice to its ordinary course, which no one has a right to arrest.... If members of this Chamber have been compromised in the act of accusation, do they not find their acquittal in the very fact that the Chamber has not been called upon to give them up to be added to the list of the accused? For, gentlemen, it is maintaining a contradiction to say, on the one hand, 'You have placed our names in the requisition for indictment,' and on the other, 'The minister in office has not dared to prosecute, since the Chamber has not been required to surrender us.' And the demand has not been made, because the nature of the process neither imposed it as a duty nor a necessity on the part of the minister to adopt that course. I declare openly, before France, we do not accuse you, because there was nothing in the process which rendered it either incumbent or essential that we should do so. And we should the more readily have fulfilled that duty, since you cannot suppose us so little acquainted with the human heart as not to know that there would be less danger in subjecting you to direct prosecution than in following simply and openly the line marked out by the ordinary course of justice."

At the close of this sitting, M. de Villèle assuredly had good reason to be satisfied with his position and himself. He had exhibited, at the same time, firmness and moderation; by confining himself within the ordinary resources of justice, by disclaiming prosecution to extremity, he had exhibited the arm of power restrained, but ready to strike if necessity should require; he had thus, to a certain extent, defied while he tranquillized the patrons of the conspirators, and had satisfied his own party without irritating their passions. On that day he combined the minister with the tactician of the Chamber.

At the time of which we are speaking, M. de Villèle stood in the first and best phase of his power; he defended monarchy and order against conspiracy and insurrection; in the Chamber of Deputies he had to repel the furious attacks of the left-hand party, and in the Chamber of Peers the more temperate but vigilant illwill of the friends of the Duke de Richelieu. The danger and acrimony of the contest united his whole party around him. Before such a situation, the rivalries and intrigues of the Chamber and the Court hesitated to show themselves; unreasonable expectations were held in check; fidelity and discipline were evidently necessary; the associates of the chief could not desert, and dared not to assail him with their importunities.

But during the course of the year 1822 the conspiracies were subdued, the perils of the monarchy dissipated, the parliamentary combats, although always bitter, had ceased to be questions of life and death, and the preponderance of the right-hand party appeared to be firmly established in the country as in the Chambers. Other difficulties and dangers then began to rise up round M. de Villèle. He had no longer menacing enemies to hold his friends in check; disagreements, demands, enmities, and intrigues beset him on every side. The first attacks sprang from questions of internal policy, and originated in the bosom of his own Cabinet.

I have no desire to pronounce severe judgment on the revolutions which agitated Southern Europe from 1820 to 1822. It is hard to say to nations badly governed, that they are neither wise nor strong enough to remedy their own evils. Above all, in our days, when the desire for good government is intense, and none believe themselves too weak to accomplish what they wish, unrestrained truth on this subject offends many sincere friends of justice and humanity. Experience, however, has supplied numerous inferences. Of the three revolutions which occurred in 1820, those of Naples and Turin evaporated in a few months, without any blow being struck, before the sole appearance of the Austrian troops. The Spanish revolution alone survived, neither abandoned nor established, pursuing its course by violent but uncertain steps, incapable of founding a regular government and of suppressing the resistance with which it was opposed, but still strong enough to keep alive anarchy and civil war. Spain, under the influence of such commotions, was a troublesome neighbour to France, and might become dangerous. The conspirators, defeated at home, found shelter there, and began to weave new plots from that place of refuge. In their turn, the Spanish counter-revolutionists found an asylum in France, and prepared arms on both sides of the Pyrenees. A sanatory line of troops, stationed on our frontier to preserve France from the contagion of the yellow-fever which had broken out in Catalonia, soon grew into an army of observation. The hostile feeling of Europe, much more decided and systematic, co-operated with the mistrust of France. Prince Metternich dreaded a new fit of Spanish revolutionary contagion in Italy; the Emperor Alexander imagined himself called upon to maintain the security of all thrones and the peace of the world; England, without caring much for the success of the Spanish revolution, was extremely anxious that Spain should continue entirely independent, and that French influence should not prevail in the Peninsula. The French Government had to deal with a question not only delicate and weighty in itself, but abounding with still more important complications, and which might lead to a rupture with some, if not with the whole of her allies.

M. de Villèle on succeeding to office, had no very defined ideas as to foreign affairs, or any decidedly arranged plans beyond an unbiassed mind and sensible predilections. During his short association with the Cabinet of the Duke de Richelieu, he had closely observed the policy adopted towards Spain and Italy,—a peaceful policy of non-intervention, and of sound advice to kings and liberals, to liberals as to kings, but of little efficacy in act, and tending, above all other considerations, to keep France beyond the vortex of revolutions and counter-revolutions, and to prevent a European conflagration. In the main, M. de Villèle approved of this policy, and would have desired nothing better than to continue it. He was more occupied with internal government than external relations, and more anxious for public prosperity than diplomatic influence; but, in the accomplishment of his views, he had to contend against the prepossessions of his party, and in this struggle his two principal associates, M. de Montmorency, as Minister for Foreign Affairs, and M. de Châteaubriand, as ambassador at London, contributed more embarrassment than assistance.

On the formation of the Cabinet, he proposed to the King to give M. de Montmorency the portfolio of foreign affairs. "Take care," replied Louis XVIII. "He has a very little mind, somewhat prejudiced and obstinate; he will betray you, against his will, through weakness. When present, he will say he agrees with you, and may perhaps think so at the time; when he leaves you, he will suffer himself to be led by his own bias, contrary to your views, and, instead of being aided, you will be thwarted and compromised." M. de Villèle persevered; he believed that, with the right-hand party, the name and influence of M. de Montmorency were of importance. Not long after, he had an opportunity of satisfying himself that the King had judged correctly. M. de Serre having refused to hold office in the new Cabinet, M. de Villèle, to remove him with the semblance of a compliment, requested the King to appoint him ambassador at Naples. M. de Montmorency, who wanted this post for his cousin the Duke de Laval, went so far as to say that he should resign if it were refused to him. The King and M. de Villèle kept their resolution; M. de Serre went to Naples, and M. de Montmorency remained in the Ministry, but not without discontent at the preponderance of a colleague who had treated him with so little complaisance.

M. de Châteaubriand, by accepting the embassy to London, relieved M. de Villèle from many little daily annoyances; but he was not long satisfied with his new post. He wished to reign in a coterie, and to receive adulation without constraint. He produced less effect in English society than he had anticipated; he wanted more success and of a more varied character; he was looked upon as a distinguished writer, rather than as a great politician; they considered him more opinionated than profound, and too much occupied with himself. He excited curiosity, but not the admiration he coveted; he was not always the leading object of attention, and enjoyed less freedom, while he called forth little of the enthusiastic idolatry to which he had been accustomed elsewhere. London, the English court and drawing-rooms, wearied and displeased him; he has perpetuated the impression in his Memoirs:—"Every kind of reputation," he says, "travels rapidly to the banks of the Thames, and leaves them again with the same speed. I should have worried myself to no purpose by endeavouring to acquire any knowledge of the English. What a life is a London season! I should prefer the galleys a hundred times."