He is now in middle life, and lives in licentious splendor in the Champs Elysees, surrounded by ambitious and designing men, and gay and beautiful women. His morals are said to be modeled after French notions of propriety. He may often be seen walking in his fine gardens, or dashing in his carriage through the streets. He has rendered himself somewhat popular by his speeches at public meetings, banquets, and railway openings, and has proved more adroit and ingenious than some of his opponents. His reign-for by such a name will his administration of government be known-has been as severe and stern as that of Louis Philippe. The press has been curbed, the public voice has been hushed, and the popular will has not been known. During the last four years, public works have been stopped, public confidence has been destroyed, and the nation has been waiting for the close of his time of office, for the thunder and blood of another revolution. That France is a republic only in name, is abundantly demonstrated by the refusal of the presi dent to allow our present distinguished national guest, M. Kossuth, to land on French soil.

England received him with open arms; her ministers and statesmen turned out to welcome him, and he marched in triumph from the water side to the palace of Westminster. But republican France1 refused him a landing, shut him out from the sympathy of her people, denied him the rest of a single night, and sent him away to tell that France is no home for the oppressed, no refuge for the flying patriot. In the speech

This chapter, up to this point, was written previous to the late outbreak in Paris, and ere the infamous coup d'état of Louis Napoleon had been struck. This will account for

the peculiar construction of some of the sentences. No sane man would now think of calling France a republic.

of Kossuth, made to the members of the American press, at a banquet given to him in New York, he holds the following truthful language, which will find an echo in the breast of every man who has spent any time in the boasted French republic:

“You know, gentlemen, how the press is fettered throughout the European continent, even, for the present, in France itself, whose great nation, by a strange fate, sees, under a nominally republican but centralized government, all the glorious fruits of their great and victorious revolutions wasting between the blasting fingers of centralized administrative and legislative omnipotence.

"You know how the independent press of France is murdered by imprisonment of their editors, and by fees; you know how the present government of France feels unable to bear the force of public opinion-so much that in the French republic the very legitimate shout of 'Vive la Republique' has almost become a crime. This very circumstance is sufficient to prove, that in that glorious land, where the warm and noble heart of the French nation throbs with self-confidence and noble pride, a new revolution is an unavoidable necessity: It is a mournful view which the great French nation now presents; but it is also an efficient warning against the propensities of centralization, inconsistent with freedom, because inconsistent with self-government; and it is also a source of hope for the European continent, because we know that things in France cannot endure thus as they are. We know that to become a true republic is a necessity for France; and thus we know, also, that whoever be the man who, in the approaching crisis, will be honored by the confidence of the French nation, he will, he must, be faithful to that

great principle of fraternity towards the other nations, which, being announced by the French constitution to the world, raised such encouraging but bitterly disappointed expectations through Europe's oppressed continent."

Such had been the course of things up to the close of 1851. On the night of the 1st of December, a public reception was given by the president, which was attended by the most distinguished men of the Chamber and of the army. Late at night, the lamps were extinguished; the foes of Napoleon departed to form a conspiracy against him, and he to arrest the very men who were plotting his downfall. The arrest of the generals of the army is thus facetiously described:

"General Bedeau, whose disposition is stated to be of a wily, scheming, and managing' order, entered into argument and discussion; insisted on considering the matter in a variety of lights, for the improvement of his captors' minds; and finally arrayed himself en grande tenue, in order to avail himself of whatever influences his uniform should chance to possess with those he might meet with on his way.

"Not so the General Changarnier. As the officials entered, he snatched up a brace of pistols, and exclaimed, 'Je suis armé.' The chief quietly replied that he saw such was the case, and that he was well aware that General Changarnier, by discharging his weapons, could kill a couple of those who had come to take him. But he suggested this course would scarcely be attended with appreciable advantages, inasmuch as the house was entoure by soldiers, so that the general's escape would be impossible, and as, moreover, the ultimate result would assuredly be a prompt trial and a dishonorable execution. These arguments had weight with the

U

hasty but sensible Changarnier, who thereupon laid down his pistols, and surrendered his person.

"Not so, again, with the amiable Cavaignac. The gentler occupation in which he had lately been engaged had probably softened his heroic spirit; and, upon his being aroused from his slumbers, and informed that he was arrested, he placidly remarked, 'C'est juste,' and, rubbing his eyes, requested to be apprised whether he might be permitted to dress himself, adding, in the most courteous manner, that his toilet would not detain him long. Being entreated to make his arrangements precisely in the way most agreeable to himself, he rose, went through the toilet duties with the most perfect composure and completeness, and then, presenting himself with a bow to the officer, politely declared himself, 'A vos ordres,'

“It is, I trust, not below the dignity of history' to add that General Cavaignac forthwith addressed a letter to the young lady whom he was so shortly to have espoused, in which he chivalrously declared that he conceived that the event which had occurred had entirely deprived him of any right to consider her bound by engagements made with a free man; and he formally released her from any such ties. If I may state this, I must claim leave to add, for the admiration of all who can appreciate high-mindedness, that the lady promptly and gracefully replied, that, so far from considering the event in question as having released her from a tie in which she took so much pride, it had, if possible, rendered her engagement more binding than before.

“From which little romance let us pass to the very unromantic conduct of Colonel Charras, who, being also captured in bed, refused to get up, refused to

dress himself, or to allow himself to be dressed; swore that, if taken at all, he would be taken en chemise; and was, into the bargain, taken at his word, being bundled up with such bedclothes as came readiest, and, in that unseemly guise, thrust into a vehicle and conveyed to prison. General Lamoricière made a determined resistance, of a more soldierly kind; but the impression seems to be that the account of it which found its way into print was much exaggerated, and that no particular harm was done."

General Cavaignac was soon to be married to Mademoiselle Odier; and, when he was arrested, like a true man, he sat down and wrote her a full and free discharge from all her former engagements. His circumstances had changed; he was a prisoner; his captivity was to last he knew not how long; and he gave her full freedom to act accordingly, writing her as follows: "You have youth, beauty, accomplishments, wealth; a throng of admirers, young, and more meritorious than I am, surround you. Choose from among them, and you will be nearly as happy as you deserve to be happier than I can make you." The noble woman instantly replied, giving him an assurance of her changeless love, and her determination to share his fortunes, be they adverse or propitious. The general, as is known, has since been liberated, and at once applied to the Archbishop of Paris to unite him in marriage to the woman of his choice. The ecclesiastic consented on condition that the bride would pledge to have her children educated in the Catholic faith. Mademoiselle Odier, who is a Protestant, refused to give her consent, and, with the general, went to Holland, where the knot was tied without any such restrictions. On the morning of December 2, whoever walked