Ups and Downs of the Bonapartes and Bourbons

NOT long after the death of the first Napoleon at St. Helena, a steamboat, then comparatively a new invention, was on its way down the Delaware to Philadelphia. It was a pleasant morning in early summer, and the passengers were grouped about the deck ; among them Joseph, brother of the Emperor, and himself at one time king of Naples, and later of Spain, then known as the Count de Survilliers, was the most conspicuous. Two gentlemen had been chatting together for a while on a bench not far from where he was seated, on the other side of the boat, when one of them crossed over and engaged Joseph in conversation. When, soon afterwards, he resumed his seat, he exclaimed, “What do you suppose that man has the audacity to think ? That the days of the Bonapartes are not over in France !" It certainly seemed incredible that any event could place another Bonaparte on the throne, from which that most wonderful of men, who first gave glory to the name, had been twice removed.

Various members of the family, after the restoration of the Bourbons, withdrew from public gaze, while others, whose possessions and position had been little affected by the imperial downfall, continued to be surrounded by the glitter of their former prosperity, and to receive such consideration as was due to their personal merit. Of these the most interesting was the mother of the Emperor, who resided at Rome in a superb palace, which she left in 1829, when she died, to her brother, Cardinal Fesch, a gentleman of much culture and excellent character. Lucien, her younger son, resided at Rome, as did also her daughter Pauline, the Princess Borghese, whose exquisite form was perpetuated by Canova in his sleeping “ Venus.” An anecdote told of her in connection with this masterpiece of art indicates more sound sense and real delicacy than it has always received credit for When asked how she could have been willing to serve as a model for the work, her ingenuous reply was, that there was a fire in the room.

A year or two after the conversation already alluded to took place, a young friend of about my own age from a neighboring city proposed that we should make a tour in Europe, then not so generally considered an essential part of education as at present. We took passage at New York in May for Liverpool. The sailing packets of that period are memories of the past. But though the passages were of long and uncertain duration, they compared favorably in comfort and actual enjoyment with the speedier and more bustling trips of the present steamers. In the rolling or pitching, the jar or din, the packets were not nearly as disagreeable as the steamers are. The passengers were fewer in number, there was abundant opportunity to become acquainted, and the ocean phenomena and fickle breezes afforded variety. No comfort known ashore that could be compassed aboard was wanting, and what with music and pleasant chat the time passed rapidly. Steam has wrought other changes in the experience of European travel. Who that is old enough to remember can ever forget the delights of posting, the luxurious seats and cushions, the postilion astride of one of his horses, and the uninterrupted views thus allowed of the changing landscape through the ample windows which formed the front of the carriage ? In this way for a twelvemonth we traversed the length and breadth of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and after a similar fashion much of the Continent.

Circumstances which need not be particularly mentioned afforded us constant opportunities of meeting and becoming acquainted with many of those best worth knowing abroad, especially in Edinburgh, then in the zenith of its glory as the abode of genius and centre of gayety. Sir Walter Scott was widely known and celebrated as a poet, but as a novelist, though generally recognized through his disguise, so far as depended on any acknowledgment he was “ the great unknown.” We met the younger members of his family in society, and were presented to him. We occasionally watched his busy pen as he sat in court as clerk of sessions, engrossed in his marvellous creations. It was our good fortune to be frequent guests at the house of Lord Harmon, then judge of the same court, who, when the case on hearing permitted, was said to have whiled away his weary moments in reading them.

When later, in London, we were about starting for the Continent, Governor Bradish of New York, who had recently returned from Italy, gave us letters of introduction — a pleasant usage now unfortunately for the most part passed away — to his friends in that country. Among others was one to the sculptor Trentanova, whom he requested to take us at once upon our arrival in Rome to the palace of the Princess Gabrielli, with whom was then residing her sister, the Countess of Possi, afterwards Lady Dudley Stuart. These ladies were the daughters of Lucien Bonaparte. He had preferred the tranquillity of private life to the thrones proffered by the Emperor to him, as well as to his three brothers, who had accepted them. He devoted his life to science and literature, of which the principal fruit was a poem entitled “ Charlemagne ; or, The Church Delivered.” He is said to have written it in England, where, having been taken prisoner by a British cruiser in the Mediterranean in 1810, while on his way to America, he was detained for three years. He lived till 1840, and in 1825 was in the prime of life, full of courtesy and kindness and universally beloved.

Without overstepping the bounds of social propriety, brief allusion in commendation may be permitted, after half a century, to personages already historical as near relatives of Napoleon. He himself, on one occasion, speaking of his mother, said that she was a woman of noble nature, who had trained her children well, suffering nothing but what was great and elevated to take root in their understandings, abhorring falsehood, and not tolerating the slightest act of disobedience, combining the energy of a man with the gentleness and delicacy of a woman. Her lovely face accounted for many noble traits in her descendants ; and it has been well remarked by Sir Bernard Burke, that “ the ladies of the Bonaparte family were ever to a surpassing degree remarkable for talent, beauty, and strength of mind.” Such encomium had especial application to the daughters of Lucien, whose society constituted one chief source of our enjoyment in Rome.

In their saloons conversation flowed on with a pleasant ripple of freshness and good-humor, bringing to a fitting close days passed among the marvels of art and antiquity in the Eternal City. They were excellent linguists, at home in French and English as in Italian. The Princess Gabrielli, an excellent musician, sang with great sweetness and effect; and Trentanova, who had also a good voice, contributed his part to the general entertainment. An improvisatore, a variety of social amusement then in vogue, often attended. Thorwaldsen and many other celebrities frequented the palace, as well as cardinals and other dignitaries of the Church. Cardinal Fesch, the uncle of Lucien, was still in fine health and full vigor, and, though dignified, frank and cordial in his address. In person he was not unlike our late Secretary of State, not very tall or stout, bearing himself simply and without pretension, engaging readily in conversation, with a voice and expression peculiarly winning. His usual dress was of white cloth or flannel, with the red stockings indicative of his rank in the hierarchy. He was good enough to procure for us an interview with the Pope, then Leo XII., with whom we passed halt an hour in animated conversation.

Partly through the friendship of the Cardinal and his lovely nieces, who were so kind as to take an especial interest that we should pass our time pleasantly in Rome, partly from our other letters of introduction, opportunities were constantly offered us to attend balls at the great palaces, never seen to such advantage as on these occasions. The Countess Possi, still very young, excelled in the waltz, a dance then recently introduced in polite society, and already in a degree superseding the quadrille. Both sisters were apparently unconscious of any especial claim to consideration, putting every one at ease in their presence. They were gay and companionable, quick at repartee, and always graceful and engaging. We were indebted to them for many pleasant acquaintances, and found they were equally disposed to devote their own moments to our entertainment.

We found in Florence Louis and Jerome Bonaparte, as also the Prince and Princess Borghese, who were then at their palaces in that city ; and in the six weeks that we passed there we had frequent opportunities of meeting them. At the British Minister’s and Prince Demidoffs, where our letters had insured us welcome, many celebrities were to be seen. As young Americans then found their way so far from home in less formidable numbers, we received the greater attention, and were gratified with the privilege, perhaps somewhat overvalued, of conversing with personages whom ability or connection with historical events made famous. Florence was unusually gay, and we had an incessant round of entertainments. We soon became sufficiently well acquainted to find them a pleasure and not an embarrassment.

Four years later, being again abroad, but now with a young family to care for, an appointment by Mr. McLane as attaché to his legation in London, of which Washington Irving was secretary, made me known in April, 1830, to Mr. Rives, representing the United States in France. General Lafayette, whom I had seen in America, and sat near at a Fourth-of-July dinner over which he presided in 1825 at Paris, was then a member of the Chamber of Deputies. He was zealously engaged in opposition to the arbitrary measures of the government, which were crushing out what little liberty had been tolerated under the Bourbons. Mr. Rives took me to his house, and almost his first exclamation, after receiving us, was : “ Do you know what occurred last night at the Chamber ? They were prorogued. Had this been done a few years since, they would have pulled down the palace of the Tuileries about the king’s ears ; but the French are better educated than they were, and there will be no revolution now.”

That same day he sent for me to go with him to a gathering of Liberals, at which men of the most distinguished position and commanding influence denounced the Ministers in no measured terms, and counselled unhesitating resistance, unless Polignac, then at the head of the Cabinet, receded from his repressive policy. At that meeting, it was said afterwards, originated the Revolution which broke out three months later in July.

Although neither Lafayette nor Mr. Rives at that time seemed to anticipate any immediate disturbances, the political horizon was portentous of coming storm. Everywhere throughout France an intense and widespread disaffection to the house of Bourbon was assuming form, and in the capital no occasion was lost to give it vent. It was easy to discover at every turn indications of something imminent and unusual. There seemed no attempt at concealment. Had the press been free, much of the pent-up force might have escaped harmless. But as this was under strict control, violent harangues were to be heard on the Boulevard and wherever men congregated. The excitement and ferment had become so universal as to overawe and paralyze both king and cabinet, who had too much pride and too little wisdom to make timely concessions. Once kindled the flame spread with marvellous celerity throughout the land, and the people rose as one against the throne.

These disturbed elements were not confined to France. In England a general spirit of discontent agitated the popular mind, which found only partial relief in clamor for parliamentary reform. The public services of Wellington did not protect his windows, and his town abode, Apsley House, was provided with iron shutters. The Duke in the crisis had turned to America for help. He was busily engrossed in organizing on paper what he called his American army, — a volunteer militia for defence in war or reliance in the event of civil commotion. At the house of Mr. McLane he took pains to inform himself of our method, which now of late in part adopted, affords England its surest dependence against foes foreign or domestic.

When the French Revolution of the three days actually occurred, it took every one by surprise. Tidings came across the Channel that the Tuileries were in possession of the mob. Colonel Hunter, our Consul at Cowes, whose daughters were at school in Paris, hastened to their protection. No other American being at hand to perform his functions, he requested the present writer, then residing at Ryde, to act as Vice-Consul during his absence. The day after his departure, while I was on a visit to Admiral Locke, then at Portsmouth, two officers came to announce the arrival of the fugitive king, Charles X., and his family, on the Great Britain and the Charles Carroll, American packet - ships, attended by a French frigate, corvette, and yacht. As they were under the American flag, and time was needed to arrange with the British Cabinet certain preliminaries supposed to be necessary, it was obviously the duty of the only American Consul in the neighborhood to repair on board. Friendly relations existing between the United States and France, it would have been presumption for him to pass judgment upon the merits of the controversy which had driven the aged king into exile. The warm acknowledgments with which proffers of service were received proved how sincerely they were appreciated. In the king’s situation it would have been surprising if some sensibility had not been testified at any well-intended courtesy. The whole group around him entered with alacrity into consideration of different propositions that were made for their reception on shore. The consulate at Cowes, a large and well-furnished establishment, was offered for their accommodation, no doubt being entertained, and very justly, that such an arrangement would have been proposed by Colonel Hunter if present.

The king decided it was best for himself to remain aboard, as also for the Duke d’Angouleme, but requested that apartments might be procured for the ladies and children at the hotel at Cowes, their disembarkation at which place was not so likely to attract attention as at Portsmouth. General Marmont, Duke of Ragusa, who had commanded the royal forces during the three days, was to proceed to London to confer with the Duke of Wellington, then Prime Minister. It was desirable that his baggage should pass the customs without delay. As it was thought this could be best effected through the consulate, it was so arranged.

Preparations were made forthwith at the hotel for the reception of the family the next day. The landlord consented to remove some partitions, that the dining-room assigned for their use might be made sufficiently spacious, several officials of the late court being in attendance. The Duchess d’Angoulême had mentioned in conversation, that, among other friends in England who had been intimate at the Tuileries, was the Marquis of Anglesey, a member of the Cabinet, who was then governor of the Isle of Wight, and residing at the castle at Cowes. She expressed a wish that lie might be unofficially and confidentially apprised of their arrival, as she did not wish that any crowd should be attracted to the landing when they disembarked. It chanced that, when the first arrangements were completed at the hotel, it was towards ten o’clock, — in that latitude and season not quite so late in the evening as farther south. The circumstances warranting some disregard of conventional usage, it seemed best not to defer communicating with the governor. The Marquis had retired indisposed, but being ushered into the library to write him a note, intimation was given me that his son was passing through the hall. As it was important that the posture of affairs should be fully explained, an interview with him was requested upon a matter of some urgency. The reply was that he did not know me, and that the communication should be made through the servant. Displeased at an apparent discourtesy, I returned for answer that the visit was to inform his father of a circumstance in which it was believed he would take an interest, but which he would probably learn soon enough in the morning.

Early the next day I went to find the collector of the port, still at his slumbers, some little distance from the town. Permission was obtained from him to expedite Marmont to London, where upon his arrival he was with some difficulty extricated from the clutches of a mob by the Duke of Wellington, who took him into Apsley House. On my return from the collector one of the consular clerks announced that they had been aroused at night by a messenger from the governor, his family having been alarmed in consequence of the visit the evening before. They were apprehending some attack by the Chartists on the castle, which not long before had been threatened ; and imagining I had come to warn them of some pressing danger, his son and servants had been despatched to ascertain the purport of my intended communication.

After receiving on shore the Duchess d’Angoulême, the Duchess of Berri and her children, the Duke of Bourdeaux and his sister, later Duchess of Modena, and seeing them established in their apartments, it seemed due to the official position of the Marquis, his age, and well-earned celebrity, to acquaint him with what had occurred. He sent down at once to request that his visitor would come up to his dressing-room, where he was seated with his wooden leg — the substitute of the limb lost at Waterloo — under the table. He was very polite, excusing himself for continuing his task of shaving, in which I had interrupted him, as his complaint, the tic douloureux, to which he was subject, might return and prevent him from completing it, if this interval of relief were not improved. He confirmed what the Duchess had said of his intimacy at the palace, and expressed his willingness to do what he could for the royal exiles, but said that, as a member of the Cabinet and governor at Cowes, he must await the action of the Duke of Wellington. He promised, nevertheless, to do what was in his power, though that was not much. When his inquiry as to what was intended for their occupation during their stay had been answered, he requested to be daily informed of what was done. As no allusion was made to the massage which had given offence, this last request seemed more than could be reasonably complied with. The Marquis called soon after upon the ladies at the hotel ; left flowers with his compliments, but did not ask to be admitted. Some days later his son called at the consulate, at his father’s request, “ to do away the impression left by his message,” which visit was duly returned. A general sense of uneasiness and insecurity prevailed throughout England at the time, in consequence of the menacing attitude of the reformers, who it was thought might seek occasion in the disturbances in France to create commotion. This may in a measure explain the policy of the British Cabinet in avoiding any marked attention to the exiles.

The same day that the party came ashore the Duchess of Berri intimated a desire to exchange the napoleons brought from Paris for English gold. They had been received from the Bank of France, in a rough box, which she opened after securing the door of her apartment. When they were counted, their value, about three thousand pounds, was procured for her in sovereigns.

In consequence possibly of the feeling alluded to, delays attended the arrangements for the formal reception of the king, and nine days elapsed before it took place. Meanwhile daily excursions for health and exercise were contrived to the many interesting localities of the island. The party was sufficiently numerous to fill two carriages, the young Duke usually driving in a pony phaeton, the gentlemen in attendance and myself - then rather unexpectedly called upon to do the honors for the Stars and Stripes — in the saddle.

Carisbrooke Castle was too famous as a picturesque relic of the past, as well as from historical association, not to be known to them. As the place of imprisonment for Charles I., just before his execution, it was likely to awaken mournful memories in the mind of the Duchess d’Angoulême, whose father, Louis XVI., had met the same fate at the hands of his subjects. But when she manifested an inclination to go there, it seemed best not to interpose any obstacle. As we stood together in the ruined chamber where Charles had been confined, the Duchess showed great agitation. Regret was expressed that we had come, and an attempt made to draw her away. Conquering her emotion with much effort, she said the place could not but painfully remind her of the misfortunes of her family.

With much natural sensitiveness, quickened by recent events, she could not hear music without tears, and pains were taken, whenever politeness permitted, to stop the bands which as a mark of respect had been introduced at different places that we visited. Although endeavoring not to attract more attention than could be avoided, towards the close of their sojourn on the island several of the prominent residents testified much sympathy for their distinguished visitors, and would have gladly extended to them civilities had any encouragement been given.

The Duchess d’Angoulême had frequently manifested a wish to go to my cottage at Ryde to see my children. As their mother was not able to receive her, the youngest child being but a few weeks old, such advances were met as simple expressions of civility, In acknowledgment of my evident wish to make their days pass agreeably. But when one day intimation was given by one of the party that there was a settled purpose that day to let me know how much they would be pleased to see my family, nothing was left but to make preparation. A boat was despatched to give notice of what was to be expected, and to carry such refreshments as might be needed. As we were proceeding in the direction of Ryde, the carriages came to a halt, and when I rode up to that in which the Duchess d’Angoulême was driving she asked me if I had any objections to her going to see my children ; adding that if I felt any hesitation on account of their mother, she would not ask for her. Of course the only reply was that I should feel much honored by the visit, and would lead the way.

Due preparation had been made in pursuance of the order sent, and a table laden with fruit and flowers stood ready for their entertainment. As Charles X. had abdicated in favor of his grandson, the young Duke was invariably addressed as “ Monseigneur.” With our republican notions, it may seem strange to us that this child of ten years was treated even by' his mother with marked deference. He was required to take precedence of all present, being first served, and while he partook of his fruit the rest stood aside. He was considered, in virtue of the abdication, as their king, if not king of France, and established etiquette forbade that any one should eat before him. When he had finished his repast he went into the garden, and the rest of the party were permitted to refresh themselves after their drive.

When we returned to the drawingrooms, the children were brought in, the boys in petticoats, the infant in arms. The Duke went up to one of the boys, since a tall West-Pointer and victim of the war, and placed his arm upon his shoulder. The child, somewhat belligerent, repulsed his caress by boxing his ears. When something was said in extenuation of so rude a procedure, the Duchess, with true French politeness, took the child on her lap, and, calling the Duke to admire him, soon restored peace.

Meeting, the morning after the visit, the Duchess on the street quite early, she told me she had just been carrying to the consulate a baby-house for my daughter, the child in arms. It was a handsome toy, and was carefully preserved for a dozen years, but, with nearly as many boys and girls in the family, it finally came to grief. I am not so great an admirer of rank as to be easily dazzled by it, but I feel it is due to the character of one who bore her trials nobly to bear witness to the excellent traits the Duchess daily exhibited. It would be out of place to dwell on the many interesting conversations held both with her and her companions, and after so great a lapse of time only dimly remembered ; grateful for those attentions it was my official duty to render, they all conversed with me, without reserve, on what chiefly engaged their attention in their own situation as well as on other topics. However much our social ideas were modified by our free institutions, it was pleasant for us to see the unabated devotion of those who, having shared the prosperity of the royal family, never permitted them to realize their changed condition by any want of zeal or respect.

As the king had chosen to remain in an American ship and under the protection of its flag, and had suggested that a daily visit, when convenient, would be acceptable, this was made a rule. Each day at noon he was glad to hear of the party ashore, taking an interest in their occupations as well as in what was transpiring of a public nature.

These visits apparently afforded him much satisfaction. Indeed, in a life so monotonous, any interruption was a diversion. He always gave me a cordial greeting and conversed pleasantly and without formality on whatever subject was started. The brilliant Count d’Artois, fifty years earlier the ornament of the court of his brother, had led a life of vicissitudes calculated to sadden the gayest nature. He had been but six years on the throne when called upon to leave it ; he was now aged, and under afflictions that might have crushed the stoutest heart. Though grave and dignified, he had lost little of the refinement and grace which distinguished his earlier years. He was gentle and kindly, more thoughtful of others than himself. His manner had an indescribable charm, partly from the politeness of his nation and growing out of the obligations imposed by his position as a king, but probably in some measure the product of a life which had had its share of the blessed influences of adversity.

It was gratifying to receive his warm acknowledgments for such service as it had been in my power to render. On one occasion, as the boat was ready for shore, coming to the gangway he told me with much earnestness, in English, — in which, from his want of familiarity, he did not generally care to trust himself, — that he had heard from his family how well I understood the ladies, and that he thanked me. The Duke d’Angoulême, standing by, said his father had spoken to me in my own language, that it might be the greater compliment, and hoped that I should so consider it. It was natural to reply, that it had given me much pleasure to be useful, and I had done no more than my country would consider my duty, since they had been pleased to find a home under our flag.

As the time drew near for his departure for Lullwortli Castle, his new abode, an entertainment was given me by the king on board the ship, at which his son presided. Polite speeches were made, highly complimentary to the United States. Reference was frequent to the friendly relations that had so long subsisted between the two countries, and to the exiles’ grateful sense of the kindness shown them in their necessity. It is superfluous to say that, in reply, I did not forget to speak of the aid extended to America in its struggle for independence, or to say that, in remembering the unhappy crisis from which Louis XVI. so generously had extricated us, to make any return was a privilege. Americans have too much experience in speech-making at home to be wanting on such occasions. It did not matter much, however, in the friendly disposition that prevailed, what was said. It was an occasion of enjoyment to all, especially to the hosts, whose opportunities for hilarity or social intercourse were rare.

A day or two later a steamer brought the Duke of Wellington to accompany Charles X. to Lullworth. He had not seen the children since they left the ship, and the meeting was evidently one of much genuine delight, both to him and to them. As they were taking their departure, the Duke of Bordeaux, having been probably instructed to do so, in a manner quite commendable in a child of ten years of age, made me a little speech of his own. After expressing his acknowledgments to the country for its protection to himself and his family, and his gratitude for my personal attention, he prayed at the close that, whatever might be his condition in life, whether high or low, I would not fail to make myself known to him.

In following out the dictates of my own judgment in the peculiar circumstances in which chance had placed me, care was taken not to subject Mr. McLane to any responsibility. The privilege of being attached to his legation, which he had kindly allowed me, was promptly surrendered, so as not to embarrass him. He was kept informed of what was done. The interruption of the mail, in consequence of the disturbances, prevented much intercourse with Colonel Hunter, to whom was regularly despatched the report of my proceedings as his representative. But he, as well as the Minister, expressed himself entirely contented ; and when he returned, he gave his hearty approval to all that had been done. I was constantly in correspondence also with Mr. Bates, of the house of Baring, who added to his approbation and encouragement cordial congratulations upon my good fortune in having this favorable opportunity of witnessing what, if a very sad, was still a most interesting incident of that memorable history.

Hostile as we naturally are in this country to political or social distinctions which have survived the condition that produced them, — as great a disadvantage to the few who possess as to the rest who do not, — they exist elsewhere beyond our reach or power to disturb. There seems reason to believe they are losing their prestige and hold in all civilized countries, and it is almost safe to hazard the prediction that in half a century they will be as much a matter of the past as predial servitude. But however just our jealousy against a system differing from that of our own adoption and preference, interest in what concerns monarchs, throned or dethroned, will long continue to hold sway, and it would be affectation even for an American not to value the chance of helping royalty in distress, or to profess indifference to the minute details which form part of so great catastrophes.

Sixteen years later I was again in England, but this time alone. Numerous acquaintances and friends of my former visits, besides many more well known at home, now found abroad, made every moment devoted to society agreeable. Lord Morpeth, our Minister, and many persons of scientific celebrity, were untiring in attention. At one house, where it had been an especial privilege for me to be intimate whenever in London, Louis Napoleon was also a frequent and favored guest. Boulogne and Strasburg, his somewhat Quixotic efforts to overthrow the government of France with means altogether inadequate, had been forgotten in the good sense and ability of his various publications, in his agreeable conversation and prepossessing traits. He was justly popular in the circles in which he was moving, many persons of the highest standing, who would not have been attracted towards him had he not possessed sterling qualities, holding him high in their regard.

Meeting him frequently at the same table, various topics of mutual interest drew us together. He had been, in America, acquainted with persons nearly allied to me, and this fact and the incidents already related, connected with his kinsfolk in Italy in 1824, and with the royal family of France six years later, naturally afforded much subject for discourse. No one could then, or can now, justly deny Louis Napoleon credit for great ability. His information was extensive and exact. His natural endowments, carefully developed by early training, had been ripened and strengthened by the study and meditations of his six years’ imprisonment. It seems difficult to believe he should have escaped from Ham without the connivance of the French government. The circumstances attending both his escape and detention, which he related to me, are too well known for repetition here ; but it was easy to see that his confinement, in its effect upon his mind and disposition, had been a blessing in disguise.

Upon these topics, and numberless others of equal interest, we discoursed when brought into companionship. We occasionally traversed together the London streets or visited the theatres, frequent opportunities being offered and improved for long and instructive conversation. The brilliant ladies whom I had known so well in Rome he spoke of as his favorite cousins ; and whenever the great Emperor was the topic, his eye kindled and his animation indicated the pleasure it gave him. His earlier aspirations, his works on military science, the pains he took when first upon the throne in organizing the armies that gained Solferino and Magenta, all prove how gladly he would have emulated his uncle in the field, if his military training had been complete.

It was his especial delight to converse on political questions, and the fulness of his information and the broad and philosophic views which he took of them, showed how much they had engaged his attention. He was then, in faith and principle with regard to France, a republican, expressing his confidence in the capabilities of the people to govern themselves. One day in alluding to the opinions expressed by the Duchess d’Angoulême,— for whose judgment and good sense he professed much respect, as did also, as is well known, the elder Napoleon,— that the French required a strong government, he combated the idea as doing injustice to a noble and generous people, who had not had a fair chance to try the experiment of free institutions. He avowed his belief that in process of time they would become capable of a large degree of political liberty, and that no government could be strong and enduring that did not rest on their consent, and which did not conciliate their affection.

Louis Napoleon was then in the prime and vigor of manhood, his mind fully matured by study and observation, his manners highly polished and agreeable. As there was no reason then to anticipate the marvellous career the outset of which he was rapidly nearing, the impression he made on his friends could not have been prejudiced by even the possibilities of his subsequent elevation. If his good sense and cleverness inspired respect, it was his amiability and generosity of character that won regard.

However much he may have shaped his opinions on those of his uncle, he certainly was not, like him, a fatalist, or believer in destiny. He had an enlightened trust in Providence, and the way in which he alluded to serious subjects proved he was very far from being indifferent to such considerations. There is a feeling that few Frenchmen care much about any world but this, and that Napoleon never looks beyond it. Human nature is much the same everywhere, and the possession of faith depends much upon individual character. It was evident enough, from the tenor of his remarks on other subjects, that he was neither infidel nor scoffer.

Nothing in his words or conduct betrayed any aspirations beyond his actual position. He had been too far sobered by disappointments to indulge in extravagant delusions or impracticable dreams. He did not fail to perceive the growing disaffection in France towards Louis Philippe, who reigned without glory, and without that zeal in promoting alike the internal prosperity and external influence of France, which the French people require of their rulers. Communism was spreading secret and infectious detestation of arbitrary power throughout the land ; and though the last agony of legitimacy was a simple quarrel about political banquets, the throne of the barricades had been completely undermined, and left without affection or respect to support it. Louis Philippe, an exemplary and most respectable character, was forced in his old age to flee in disgrace under a feigned name from the wrath of his fickle countrymen, who had received him from the hands of Lafayette as the royal apostle of liberty and of the best of republics. It cannot be denied that it was the wisest choice in the existing conjuncture, for Europe was not inclined to tolerate in France either a radical or aggressive government. But under the influences of the palace and of old tradition, the salutary lessons he had given and received in America faded out, and he, too, was a fugitive.

It would have been better for his peace had he left the dry bones of Napoleon in their island sepulchre. The old fondness was not dead, but slumbered. It needed but a spark to rekindle glorious associations that clustered around the memory of the idolized Emperor. The Red Republic was made heroic by the genius of Lamartine, but the workshops proved agrarianism and social order incompatible. That bubble burst, and no alternative was presented but the constitutional government which a single day in February, 1851, transformed into the Second Empire.

If alive to indications of coming change, Louis Napoleon, in 1847, was identified with no party or intrigue to bring it about. His pursuits were social, among the refined and educated, and if he had any of the defects of his nation, they were studiously kept out of sight. It was not long before the overthrow of Louis Philippe that he wrote to request me to come and see him in his apartment. Some reference to his uncle suggested the act, and now, avoiding all appearance of display, he took from a wardrobe a gray coat, believed to have been that last worn by the Emperor at St. Helena, his sword, chapeau, boots, and spurs. Placing them on the sofa, he said : “ Some day, my friend, you may remember that I have shown you what you see I take pleasure in showing, knowing also that you respect the memory of one I loved so much.” Public opinion, apt to be dastard, is now (October, 1870) setting strongly against him in his adversity, and these little incidents, which exhibit an amiable disposition, may serve to lessen in candid minds the growing prejudice. The personal popularity which constituted him the choice of the French people needs no explanation with any one familiar with much that was kindly in his nature.

After the establishment of the provisional government, his application to Lamartine for leave to enter France was refused. But when he had been chosen with triumphant majorities by two separate constituencies to the Chamber, and the influence of Lamartine was on the wane, he passed the frontier without being recognized and took his seat. His election as head of the French Republic followed.

The day that the messages from Lamartine reached London I met him looking ill and dejected. Without any attempt on my part to question its cause, he discovered easily my ready sympathy with his depression, and seemed peculiarly grateful. He invited me to go with him to purchase a horse, and we sauntered along to a fashionable stable near Regent Street. His manner was especially friendly and confiding. He was, and still is, an admirable horseman, bearing himself in the saddle, as in society, with much grace and elegance. Having also some knowledge of horses, it chanced, when several were brought out, I praised that which he himself had selected, and it was bought.

Though evidently possessed with the idea that the future promised him a fitting field for his aspirations, no expression ever betrayed overweening conceit of his own importance. Certainly he never would have gained ascendency over the hearts of the French people had he not traits which compel respect as well as affection. When, by the Revolution of 1848, the way was opened for his return to France and to its chief magistracy, it seems reasonable to believe he intended fair by its liberties. Controlled by the course of events when the alternative was presented of his overthrow or that of his enemies, he acted with vigor for his own preservation certainly as a motive, but also, it may be, from conviction that the course he was taking was best for the country. It is impossible to say what might have been had he been sent back into exile ; I believe that for nearly a quarter of a century he proved himself one of the best monarchs France has ever had.

He never lost sight of his obligations to promote the material welfare of France by developing its industry, improving its means of communication, embellishing its cities, improving the public health, insuring justice. His foreign policies secured for France, until within a year, an honorable place among nations at little cost of blood or treasure, and the recent plebiscite proved that his popularity was undiminished. It must of course be admitted that his persistency, after the withdrawal of the Hohenzollern prince as a candidate for the Spanish throne, in exacting guaranties compromising the dignity of King William, was a political blunder, but the odium of the present war rests not so much upon him as upon his Ministers and the excitable temper of the French people.

Certainly in one respect Louis Napoleon deserves especial commendation. In the days of his prosperity he was never unmindful of his obligations to those who had earlier befriended him ; he was never disloyal to any claim from former intimacy. When in Paris in 1851, just before the coup d'etat, I accompanied our Minister to his reception, and his cordial greeting and immediate reference to our pleasant intercourse in London was followed up by a disposition to renew it. Engagements which took me away from Paris prevented me from availing myself of his advances. Neither the coup d'état nor the present war, so far as he brought it about, are grounds for admiration ; but whoever feels inclined to condemn him should bear in mind what he has done for his country, and, if the conclusion is to his disadvantage, some little allowance must be made for circumstances beyond his control.

J. A.