City and Country in France.
THE immediate occasion of the Paris insurrection was evidently the alarm of the Reds at seeing the National authority in the hands of an Assembly whose disposition, in comparison with their own, was moderate and conservative. From the day when the Assembly was elected, it was evident that Jacobinism had little strength among its members. The substitution of the practical statesman, Thiers, for the hot-headed Gambetta, as chief of the State, fitly expressed the character of the change in the government. The only chance for the Red element to obtain control, was to assert itself by arms before the new authority should have time to grow strong. This it did with characteristic audacity and unscrupulousness, and without the shadow of a decent pretext. Several impulses combine to animate the Parisians in their struggle; or, we should rather say, one general impulse exists under several forms. The wild theories of communism, in the proper sense of the word, have struck deep root—theories of abundant wages and social equality, secured to all men by a political juggle. Quite in keeping with these theories was the demand of the populace, organized as the National Guard, to receive continued pay from the government when their services were no longer needed. And for the realization of the golden future to which wages without work was the first step, it was essential that enlightened Paris should emancipate herself from the control of a benighted “rural” Assembly. This last point, the antagonism between Paris and the provinces, is worthy of special attention. Its manifestations may be traced through many years. When Louis Napoleon established the empire, to go no farther back,—he subdued Paris only by violence and terror. Throughout his reign, the city showed itself at every election steadily hostile to him. So did the larger provincial cities. But the country voters, from the very first, gave such overwhelming majorities in his favor, that from the entire vote he was able to claim an endorsement of the coup d'etat, and of each important step in his subsequent course. Only last May, he was sustained on an appeal to the nation by a majority of five or six millions. After the disaster of Sedan, it was the populace of Paris that overthrew the empire. Holding the capital, and with the Emperor a disgraced captive, they found no resistance anywhere to the revolution they had achieved. But the Provisional Government, installed by favor of the city populace, though calling itself Republican, never ventured to submit its authority to the verdict of the nation. When from absolute necessity, the people were called on to choose an Assembly, their choice at once revealed the old repugnance of the great majority to Jacobinism. The disgraceful fall of the empire, and the brief sway of the men of “the left,” had not reconciled the rural population to the ideas of Gambetta and Rochefort. It was uncertain whether the Assembly would set up a republic, or a constitutional monarchy; but it was clear that whatever the form, there would be strong safe-guards to authority, and strong restraints on the mob; and that no radical changes as to property, the church, etc., were to be looked for from this source. Then Paris rose, under the red flag. Under the empire, the rural population seemed to most American observers the upholders of an oppressive despotism. At present they have a claim to be recognized as the supporters of order against anarchy. Nor is it to be supposed that their adherence to the emperor was merely the result of ignorance or of subservience. Ignorant the French peasants undoubtedly are, and doubtless they are largely under the control of the priesthood and the local magistrates. But certain ideas they hold with the utmost tenacity, and express in very effective ways. Their respect for the rights of property—rooted largely in their own real or possible status as land-holders—is intense. United with this are a regard for social order, a belief in the church, and a dread of innovation in almost any form. It was no mistaken instinct which taught them that Louis Napoleon’s government, whatever else it did or left undone, maintained for the most part the rights of property and of person; and the established church—things of great concern to their minds; while for political rights they knew little and cared less. The present attitude of the French peasantry is in striking contrast with that which they presented at the outbreak of the first Revolution. Then country vied with city in ardor against the oppressor. Paris was as always the head, but the body was in full sympathy with it. But one cause can be assigned, why the class who eighty years ago were ready for revolt have now become cautious and conservative. It is the vast improvement in their condition. Then they were the serfs of an oppressive nobility, crushed by hopeless poverty, exposed to the worst personal abuse. Now they are to a great extent owners of land; some degree of comfort is within their reach; and their personal rights are under the effectual guard of the law. We speak of what has been for many years. In the present wretchedness of France, and before a future so uncertain, it is encouraging to remember that she has gained something in the past; that within the last eighty years the great body of her people have risen so far in the scale of comfort and security, that their instinct is to be content with the present state of things rather than take the risks of change. As to the issue of the present conflict, we make no attempt to prophesy. Unhappy France may be compared to a dilapidated house, in which a part of the tenants oppose all attempts at repairs; while another part make short work by setting the whole edifice on fire.—Chris. Union.