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freedom. Such have been the fruits of military treachery in France.

Does Belgium afford a more flattering prospect to the advocates of military defection? Has treason, pestilential and blasting elsewhere, there brought forth the sweet and lasting fruits of peace, tranquillity, and industry? Is the independence of Flanders as secure, its commerce as flourishing, its people as contented, its agriculture as prosperous, its poor as well fed, as under the hateful reign of the Orange dynasty? By the admission of the advocates of revolution, according to the statement of M. Potter himself, they have gained only anarchy and wretchedness, "discord within, contempt without-the intrigues of kings-the divisions of faction the apathy of despair."

Effects so uniform, consequences so unvarying, must spring from some common cause. Victorious or vanquished, military treachery has proved fatal to every state where it has prevailed: it has everywhere blighted industry, shaken credit, destroyed freedom. Liberty has never suffered so much as from the rude and sacrilegious hands of such defenders. "It must constantly be understood, and it is not sufficiently recollected," said Guizot in the Chamber of Deputies, on the 3d of February 1831, "that freedom is never in such danger as after a successful revolution. Habits cannot be conceived so much at variance with the protection of the people, as the excitation, ambition, and misrule which arise from their first triumph." These were the words of the republican minister established in office by the revolt in July, after he had been driven from the helm by the increasing vigour of the democratic faction to which he owed his elevation.

If the matter be considered coolly, it must at once appear that freedom never can be purchased by the revolt of soldiers; and that the military treachery, which is so much the object of eulogium, is more dangerous to the liberty which has excited it, than to any other human interest.

Freedom consists in the coercion of each class by the jealousies and the exertions of the others. The crown is watched by the people, the aristocracy by the crown, the populace by the aristocracy. It is the jealousy and efforts of these different interests to keep each other within due

bounds, which form the balance of power indispensable to civil liberty. Without such an equilibrium, one or other of the constituent bodies must be crushed, and the ascendency of the other rendered subversive of general freedom.

But when an established government is overturned by a revolt of its own soldiers, the event occurs which is of all others the most fatal to public liberty-viz. the destruction of subsisting power by one power, and that the most dangerous, viz., an armed and limited class in the state. The bayonet becomes thenceforward the irresistible argument of the dominant body; and liberty, destroyed by its own defenders, sinks in the struggle which was created in its name. It is quite in vain to expect that men of reckless and licentious habits, like the majority of soldiers in every country, will quietly resign the supreme authority, after having won it at the peril of their lives. Individuals sometimes may make such a sacrifice-large bodies never have, and never will. The Prætorian Guards of Rome, and the Janizaries of Constantinople, have often revolted against the reigning power, and bestowed the throne on their own favourite; but it was never found that general freedom was improved by the result, or that individuals were better defended against oppression after it than before.

Liberty cannot be established in a day, by the successful issue of a single revolt. Its growth is as slow as that of industry in the individual: its preservation dependent on the establishment of regular habits, and the maintenance of a courageous spirit in the people. Nothing can be so destructive to these habits as a successful revolt of the soldiery. The ambition which it awakens, the sudden elevation which it confers, the power which it lodges in armed and inexperienced hands, are, of all things, the most fatal to the sober, patient, and unobtrusive habits which are the parent of real freedom. The industry, frugality, and moderation of pacific life appear intolerable to men who are dazzled by the glittering prospect of revolutionary triumph.

A successful insurrection in the army lodges supreme authority at once in an armed force. No power capable of counteracting it remains. The majesty of the throne, the sense of duty, the sanctity of an oath, the awe of the legislature, have all been set at naught. The energy of the

citizens has never been developed, because the revolt of the soldiers terminated the contest before their support was required. The struggle has depended entirely between the throne and the army: the interest of the state can never be promoted by the victory of either of these contending parties.

This is the circumstance which must always render treason in the army destructive to lasting freedom. It terminates the struggle at once, before any impulse has been communicated to the unarmed citizens, or they have acquired the vigour and military prowess which are alone capable of controlling it. The people merely change masters; instead of the king and his ministers, they get the general and his officers. The rule of the sovereign is looked back to with bitter regret, when men have tasted of the severity of military license, and experienced the rigour of military execution; whereas, during the vicissitudes of a civil war, the energy of all classes is brought into action, and the chance of obtaining ultimate freedom improved by the very difficulty with which it has been won. The British constitution, the gradual result of repeated contests between the crown and the people, has subsisted unimpaired for centuries the French, obtained at once by the treachery of the army, has been as short-lived as the popularity of its authors. There is no royal road to freedom, any more than to geometry it is by patient exertion, and progressive additions to their influence, that freedom is acquired by nations not less than eminence by individuals.

What then, it may be asked, are soldiers to do, when a sovereign like Charles X. promulgates ordinances subversive of public freedom? Are they to make themselves the willing instruments in enslaving their fellow-citizens? We answer, Certainly; if they have any regard for the ultimate maintenance of their liberty. If illegal measures have been adopted, let them be repealed by the civil authorities; but never let the soldiers take the initiative in attempting their overthrow. The interests of liberty require this as indispensably as those of order. Nothing short of an unanimous declaration of the national will, by the higher classes, should lead to a defection from loyalty on the part of its sworn defenders.

VOL. I.

F

In former times, no doubt, many examples have occurred of the incipient efforts of freedom being entirely extinguished by military execution; but no such catastrophe need be apprehended in countries where the press is established: the republicans themselves have everywhere proclaimed this truth. The opinions and interests of the many must prevail where their voice is heard. The only thing to be feared for them is from their own passions. The chief danger to liberty, in such circumstances, is from its own defenders the violence to be apprehended is not that of the throne, but of the populace.

No stronger proof of this can be imagined, than has been furnished by the recent revolution in France and Belgium. The revolt of the soldier at once established the rule of the mob in these countries, and put an end, for a long time at least, to every hope of freedom. What security is there afforded for property, life, or character? Confessedly none; everything is determined by the bayonets of the National Guard and army; neither the throne nor the people can withstand them. Freedom was as little confirmed by their revolt, as at Constantinople by an insurrection of the Janizaries.

Liberty in France was endangered, for the moment, by the ordinances of the Bourbons: it has been destroyed by the insurrection planned to overthrow them. Freedom,

supported as it then was, by an energetic and democratic press, and a republican population, ran no risk of permanent injury from the intrigues of the court. A priest-ridden monarch, guided by imbecile ministers, could never have subjugated an ardent, high-spirited, and democratic people.

But the danger is very different from the energy of the Republicans, and the ambition of the soldiers. Marshal Soult and his bayonets are not so easily dealt with as Prince Polignac and his Jesuits. The feeble monarchy of Louis XVI. was overturned with ease the terrible Committee of Public Safety, the despotic Directory, the energetic sway of Napoleon, ruled the Revolution, and crushed freedom, even in its wildest fits. Three days' insurrection destroyed the feeble government of Charles. A revolt ten times more formidable was crushed with ease by the military power of the Convention.

Had the soldiers not revolted in July, what would have been the consequence? The insurrection in Paris, crushed by a garrison of 12,000 men, would have speedily sunk. A new Chamber, convoked on the basis of the royal ordinance, would have thrown the Ministers into a minority in the Chamber of Deputies, and by them the obnoxious measure would have been repealed. If there is any truth in the growing influence of public opinion, so uniformly maintained by liberal writers, this must have been the result. No representatives chosen by any electors in France, could have withstood the odium which supporting the measures of the court would have produced. Thus liberty would have been secured without exciting the tempest which threatens its total overthrow. Public credit, private confidence, general prosperity, would have been maintained; the peace of the world preserved; the habits conducive to a state of national freedom engendered.

What have been the consequences of the boasted treachery of the troops of the line in July? The excitation of revolutionary hopes; the rousing of democratic ambition; a ferment in society; the abandonment of useful industry; the government of the mob; the arming of France; the suspension of pacific enterprise.

A civil war in France would have been far more serviceable to the cause of real liberty, than the sudden destruction of the government by the revolt of the army. In many periods of history, freedom has emerged from the collision of different classes in society-in none from military insubordi

nation.

If Charles I. had possessed a regular army, and it had betrayed its trust on the first breaking out of the great Rebellion, would the result have been as favourable to the cause of liberty, as the long contest which ensued? Nothing can be clearer than that it would not. No greater consequences would have followed such a revolt, than any of the insurrections of the barons against the princes of York and Lancaster. A revolution so easily achieved, would as easily have been abandoned: liberty would never have been gained, because the trials had not been endured by which it is to be won. The only security for its continuance is to be found in the energy and courage of the citizens: it is not

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