the sad death of her husband, who was thrown from his carriage and killed a while before. She comes into the Chamber of Deputies with the vain hope of restoring the tottering throne, and saving for her son the remnant of royalty. As she approaches the tribune, she moves her veil, and casts her calm blue eye around upon the astonished and bewildered deputies, as if to read her fate in their countenances. In one hand she leads the young king, who has just been made sovereign of France by the abdication of his grandfather; in the other she holds the hand of the other child, the Duke of Chartres-two beautiful children, wearing short, black jackets, with snow-white collars, and a slight regal ornament suspended from the neck. Murmurs of approbation follow her as she moves on. Her pale and serene look saddens all hearts, and all resentment and revenge are banished from the breasts of the members. She takes her seat at the foot of the tribune, and utters a silent but beautiful appeal to the feelings of the deputies. Speech after speech is made, and it seems as if the tide is turning in favor of monarchy, when shouts are heard without. Rude voices clamor for admittance; guns are discharged in the street; and a crowd of assailants burst into the Chamber. They look with glaring eyes upon the beautiful duchess and her children, and cry; "Why is she here?" The tide which had begun to set towards royalty begins to roll back again. The deputies grow pale, the duchess trembles, and her children clap their hands with joy at the scenes around them. Their mother, with a paper in her hand, arose to speak; but they would not hear her, and she sat down in confusion, feeling that her case was hopeless. Soon the chamber was full of wild armed men, and the very tribune was gleaming with bayonets.

The whole scene was wild beyond description. who witnessed it gives the following account:

One

"The people were heard rushing against the door on the left, at the foot of the tribune. The clash of arms, the cries, shouts, questions, and groans of men, confounded together, rang through the corridors.

"The hall and the tribunes sprang up at a bound. Men with outstretched arms, bayonets, sabers, bars of iron, and torn standards above their heads, forced their way into the hemicycle. It was the column of Captain Dunoyer, swelled by the Republicans it had recruited on its route. This column had first entered the Tuileries pellmell with the masses of insurgents who had invaded the chateau by all its entrances. They had there saved the municipal guards and the soldiers forgotten in the retreat. Afterwards reaching the throne room, the column had been there preceded by Lagrange, the enthusiastic combatant of the insurrections of Lyons and Paris.

"Lagrange held in his hand the abdication, which he had taken, as we have seen, from Marshal Gérard at the moment when the old warrior displayed it before the people to disarm them.

C

Lagrange, mounted on a bench, read the abdication, and then, surveying his auditory with an inquisitive look and a smile of disdain, he seemed to ask if this miserable satisfaction were sufficient for the blood poured out for three days. No! no!' cried the victors. No royalty, nor reign!' Bravo, friends,' cried Lagrange; 'we must have the republic.' this word, the applause broke forth. Orators took the very throne for a tribune. They mounted it, and there proclaimed the abolition of royalty. Captain Dunoyer and his men detached one of the flags that decorated

At

the dais of the throne. Others imitated them, tore the standards, divided the rags, and made trophies, scarfs, and cockades of them. Captain Dunoyer rallied around the flower of his men, summoned by his voice from the spectacle of the destruction of the chateau. He reformed his column, and cried, 'To the Chamber! Let us pursue royalty into the asylum where its shadow has sought refuge.'

"The column crossed the Seine, and moved along the Quay d'Orsay, amid cries of Down with the regency!' It was swelled in its progress by those men whom popular currents draw in, as an overflowing river absorbs, without selection, all the purity and impurity upon its banks. A butcher's boy, his apron stained with blood, brandishing a cutlass in his hand; a bareheaded and bald old man, with a white and bristling beard, armed with a drawn sword, of antique fashion, taken from some museum, whose guard was formed by a loaf pierced by the long blade -a living model of the painter's studio; other vagabonds, attracting attention by their rags, and the singularity of their arms and attire, placed themselves at the head of the National Guards and combatants, like so many eruptions of the volcanic explosion of the people. Pupils of the Polytechnic School marched between these men and the column. They advanced in double-quick time. The outposts of the line in vain crossed bayonets; the Republicans beat down the arms of the soldiers, passed them, and perceived the court carriages, which were waiting for the duchess at the doors of the Chamber. They were afraid that the supplications and tears of a woman would deprive them of the revolution.

"The butcher's boy, knife in hand, crossed the empty space between the tribune and the steps. The deputies

fell back in horror, shielding themselves from contact with his bloody garments. They formed a denser group on the upper benches, around the Duchess of Orleans. The princess, unintimidated, took notes with a pencil on her knee. She was doubtless searching her heart for words that would best save her son.'

Every moment the throng became more clamorous; the deputies grew more inflammatory. The butcher's boy ran towards the Duchess, crying, "The spawn of royalty, we must make an end of them," but was held back by a brave son of old Marshal Soult, who hurled him down into the crowd with just indignation and abhorrence.

At length, it became apparent that the noble woman could no longer remain in safety. The deputies who had gathered around her were unable any longer to save her from violence, and she was forced out of the hall, and left in the crowd without. Here she was separated from her children, and, covered with a veil which concealed her countenance, she was dashed about by the swarms of people, until she fell against a glass door, which yielded, and she was borne away to a place of safety. The little Count of Paris met with more severe treatment. He was recognized, and a brawny man was about strangling him in the streets, when he was rescued by a national guard, who carried him, at the risk of his own life, to his mother. The Duke of Chartres fared still worse. He fell in the street, and was trodden down by the mob. Rescued at length, he was taken away, and for several days his mother remained without any knowledge of his safety, in the most distressing anxiety.

Lamartine's History of the Revolution.

While all this was taking place at the seat of gov ernment, the king, with the queen and their children, had fled as far as Dreux, where he heard that his abdication had not saved the throne to his grandson. He now began to fear for his own safety. The sad fate. of Louis XVI. was before his mind, and he resolved to escape at once to England. Under the name of Theodore Lebran, he succeeded in the attempt, while his younger son, the Duke of Montpensier, with his wife, a delicate young woman, fled to Brussels. The whole family were at length united on English soil, secure from the waves of popular tumult which are continually dashing in France.

After the exciting scenes which we have now described had transpired, a provisional government, with Lamartine at the head, was formed, which soon became swallowed up in what has been termed a republic.

We now come to the time of Louis Napoleon, who is the son of Louis Bonaparte, ex-king of Holland. His mother was the daughter of Josephine, the fair but frail Hortensia Beauharnais, with whom his father lived but a short time. He was thus a nephew of the

1

The following account is given of Louis Napoleon's parentage:

"Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, who is more of a man than the world have supposed, is the nephew of the great Napoleon Bonaparte, and grandson of Josephine, his first wife. This captivating woman had two children, both by her first husband Eugene and Hortense Beauharnais. Louis Bonaparte, father of him who is now at the head of the French people, was the third brother of the great Napoleon, and was born at Ajaccio, (Corsica,) on the 2d of September, 177 His marriage with the daughter of Josephine was not his own choice, “but” brought about by the

joint labor of Napoleon, and especially Josephine, who artfully accomplished many objects by which she hoped to make certain her own position as empress. The first proposal was made to him in July, 1800, shortly after the return of the first consul from the campaign, one of the conflicts of which was the battle of Marengo. He then gave it a decided negative. Not long after, it was renewed, but with no better success; and to escape further importunity, Louis Bonaparte made a tour of several months in Germany.

"In October, 1801, Josephine, not at all discouraged by the two previous refusals to comply with her