The adventures of a roving diplomatist
'h f ' 1/ ■iiiiiK I mk % }!/ '■ mm§r y y> / > *<» Ml Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2007 witii funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation littp://www.arcliive.org/details/adventuresofroviOOwikouoft THE ADVENTURES or A ROVING DIPLOMATIST, THE ADVENTURES 07 A ROYING DIPLOMATIST. BT HENRY WIKOFF, ▲VTHOB OF "KT OOTJBTSHIP AKD ITS OONSBQUBKOXB." iJfV.— What do you call the play? Samkt.— The mousetrap. Haulxt, Act IIL /SberM 2. NEW YOBK: W. P. FETRIDGE & CO., PUBLISHERS, HABPEES' BUILDINGS— FRANKLIN SQUARE. 1857. SEEN BY PRESERVATION SEPvVICES. ^ Entered, according to Act of Congress, fa the year 1856, by HENBY WIKOFF, In the Cleik'8 Office of the District Court for the Sontbem District of New York. ENGLISH COPYRIGHT. Notice. — ^The Author of this work having written and printed it in En- gland, and having, farther, complied with all the stipvdations of the law, has been enabled to secure a copyright Any ccmtravention of the same, therefore, will be duly prosecuted. FREl^CH AND GERMAN COPYRIGHTS. Copyrights of this work are secured in France and Germany, under the International !|^eaties between those countries and England. / TRANSLATIONS. '» The Authotfr^erves to himself the right of translation into the French and Gemjaa languages. PKINTKD BT . N. OROSSXAir, 82 Beekman-Bt TO HENRY LOUD BROUGHAM, HUMAN! GENBEIS DECUS, QTijio to olnme IS BESPECTFULLY INSCEIBED, BY HIS HUMBLBPBIEND, THE AUTHOR. INTRODUCTION. This book is of so personal a nature as to require some explanation, if not an excuse. It is easy to make the first, and it is hoped the last will prove as acceptable. In a vol- ume published nearly two years since, " My Courtship and its Consequences," I related, with extreme candor, the re- markable vicissitudes that befell me in pursuit of a wife ; but no portion of this singular narrative appeared to excite more surprise than the strange fact that I was immured fifteen months in a Genoese prison for no other ofiense than obtaining a stolen interview with the object oi raj penchant. I made it apparent enough that this unjustifiable outrage was perpetrated through the active instrumentality of the British consul at Genoa ; l^ut the American public was at a loss to know what insidious motive could urge such a per- son to so extraordinary an interference, and next, how so humble an official could wield such power over a court of law, even though it existed in Italy. The clue to this mys- tery was in my hands at the time, but I considered it in- discreet to make, then, the revelations contained in the present volume. The misrepresentations launched against me en masse in the English press, and naturally copied into our own, had so prejudiced the public mind against me, that I thought it first necessary to convince all impartial persons ▼1 INTRODtJCTION. that I was wholly innocent of any legal or moral offense at Genoa that could justify the unprovoked persecution I suf- fered there. This object has been fully achieved by the flat- tering success that attended the story of my wooing already alluded to, and which has been received with imphcit be- lief by the reading pubUc, since no one of the many who figured in its details has ventured to gainsay a single asser- tion, or even to quibble over a single line. Thus entirely reUeved of the cloud of suspicions that cunning calumny had thrown over me, and fortified by the conviction, now generally entertained, that I was caught in the meshes of some artful conspiracy, I presume to appeal once more to pubUc confidence while I seek to disclose the occult purpose that led to my imprisonment at Genoa, as well as the secret aim of all the odious attempts made to traduce me in England and elsewhere. It will then be seen that the lady who has hitherto been regarded as my fair persecutor was, in fact, only a screen and a pretext ; and that the British consul, who has been supposed her cham- pion, was, in truth, merely the instrument for effecting the covert desi^s of another party; and finally, that the party in question was no other and no less than the British Min- ister for Foreign Affairs, Lord Viacount Palmerston. Such a statement as this may seem, at first sight, incred- ible. What could Lord Palmerston have to do by any con- catenation of events with my former fianch^ Miss Gamble, or with the British consul, Bi'own, and my love-adventure at Genoa in 1851 ? It is just the solution of this romantic imbroglio at which this volume aims ; and it is my hope, that the reader who wandered through the intricate mazes of my " Courtship," and who may from curiosity or inter- est pick up this sequel, will discover in its pages ample proofs that my misfortune at Genoa is less due to the INTEODUOTION. Vll thoughtlessness of a woman than to the craft of a callous politician. At all events, the tale, in aU its phases, will only tend to confirm the fact that in this nether world of ours the wildest romance is often found fantastically blended with the gravest incidents of reality. What I have said may serve as some explanation of the present publication, and my excuse for it is short and simple. It is true I felt the most poignant reluctance to make public the secret relations I once held with a leading minister of the British government, not only from a deep sense of propriety, but from the respect I have always entertained for Lord Palmerston, in spite of his harsh behavior to me. Still, it was necessary that the pubHc imputation on my veracity by the British consul at Genoa, who declared that I never had any connection with the English government, should be as pubUcly removed ; and furthermore, I con- sidered that some atonement was due for aU the disrepute and sufiering so wantonly heaped on me. Up to this mo- ment Lord Palmerston has, for his own reasons, constantly thought fit to decHne giving me his co-operation to obtain either the one or the other. I submit, then, as incontest- able, not only my right, but the propriety of my laying this second vindication before the world, for this is one of those cases that not unfrequently occur, where law and equity af- ford no remedy, but where the ends of justice are satisfied by the sympathy and support of the pubHc. I trust it will be admitted that in defending myself 1 have shown suflicient forbearance toward others, and that I have not sought to enhance the interest of my book, at the expense of my self-respect, by any ostentatious parade of important disclosures, or even by an unreserved revelation of matters which I did not deem necessary to my justifica- tion. viH INTRODUCTION'. In the course of my narrative I have found it necessary ^ to enter into a somewhat careful record of events in France during an epoch of extreme interest, beginning with the presidency of the Piince Louis Napoleon, and ending with the coup d'etat which elevated him to the throne. This portion of my book I beg to recommend to the attentive perusal of the reading public, and 1 venture to hope that after the most searching investigation and the keenest crit- ical analysis, it will be finally pronounced an impartial and £uthful sketch of the rise and fall of the late French Re- pubUc. The cause of truth, as well as their own interests, demand that the people of the United States should form a correct and independent opinion of European events, and it is hardly less than a misfortune for us that we are in the habit of taking all our views of transatlantic afiairs from the English press. It is in the nature of things that the journal- ists of England should form conclusions coiTesponding to their "bwn point of view, and which are necessarily more or less shaped and colored by personal prejudice and national interest. The public of this country are, consequently, often led astray by adopting too confidingly the judgments of EIngland upon the facts of European history, and more es- pecially upon the afiairs of France. I do not hesitate to accuse the English press of frequently misrepresenting both men and things in France, to serve party purposes or to pamper national illusions. Under these circumstances, is it not the manifest duty of American journalism to investigate facts for themselves, and, guided solely by their own inteUigence, to draw such de- ductions as are conformable to truth and logic ? It should be remembered that the safety of the oligarchy and the du- ration of parliamentary government in England, depend on the deliberate distortion of events both in France and the INTRODUCTION. IX United States. This may serve to explain those singular and stai-tling oscillations of the leading English jouraal, the London Times^ which at one period denounces the French emperor as a tyrant, and at the next lavishes upon him the most eloquent panegyric. The Times is obliged to steer its difficult course between the necessity of supporting its own national organization, and the expediency of not assailing the institutions of its formidable neighbor, France. Hap- pily, there is no reason under heaven why the press of this country should seek to throw dust in the eyes of the people, or any why they should not assert their independence of English journalism by declaring their own unbiased senti- ments when reliable information is offered them. The state- ments of an American upon matters that have passed under his personal observation may be received without suspicion, and are entitled to consideration. It may be thought by some that my former acquaintance with the Emperor of France may have induced me to color his best acts too highly, or to throw an artful mirage over his more doubtful ones. The most emphatic assertions ta the contrary would avail nothing, and all I ask, therefore, is a calm, thorough, and impartial examination of my unpretending narrative of recent events in France. I challenge the utmost scrutiny, and I await without apprehension the verdict of pubUc opin- ion. Let it always be borne in mind that to France we are indebted, to say nothing of revolutionary obligations, for two of the ablest books that have ever appeared on our country. The institutions and material resources of the United States have received at the hands of M.* de Tocque- vUle and M. Michel Chevalier, an elucidation and a record not more remarkable for fidelity than the friendly spirit that inspired them. It is, therefore, doubly incumbent on every American, when writing of France, not to pronounce a judg- X INTBODUCTION. ment upon her institutions or men based upon the English or American standard of right and wrong, but rather to look dispassionately at both, in order to discover if the first are not in conformity with historical antecedents, and the last the mere passive instruments of some overruling neces- sity. In this clear, philosophical light let the history of the French Republic of 1848 be regarded, and it is not to be doubted that the American opinion of its prominent actors will differ widely from that which may be entertained in other countries. Henby Wikoff. New Toek, November 22, 1866. 11 CONTENTS. -^t ■♦ »»■ CHAPTER I. FAOB A BETROSPECT. Departure for France. Recollections of 184'7. Louis Philippe and Guizot. The great Book of Lamartiae. The French Journals. Rothschild and the Railroads. The Upper, Middle, and Lower Classes. Conversations with Louis Blanc, Marrast, Lamartine, M. Thiers, Berryer, Chateaubriand, Lammenais. Louis Napoleon at London. The two Princes at a Hunt 3 CHAPTER H. FRANCE REPUBLICANIZED. Arrival at Havre. Trip in a Railway. Paris in 1849. A Visit to Prince Napoleon, The Struggle to wheedle the President. A Re- view of the National Guard. An Attempt to Frighten Louis Napo- leon 13 CHAPTER HI. THE president's BALL. A Ball at the Palace. Mixture of all Classes and Ranks. Attitude of M. Thiers. The Princess Matilda Escorted by Berryer. Lamar- tine at the Elysee. The Yiscount de Persigny. Horace Vernet in Uniform. Honorable Richard Rush. A Rencontre with Louis Na- poleon 24 211 CONTEirrS. CHAPTER IV. A DINNER AT THE ELTS6E. PAOB. The French Assembly. State of Things in Paris in March, 1849. An Invitation to Dinner. Louia Napoleon's Physician. A Splendid Dinner-party. A Compliment from the President Count Mole Mystified. An Artful Dodge and a Ludicrous Failure. A Reihark of Berryer. Telegraphic Experiments. Montalembert's Disdmn for Morse. A Short Chat with the President 32 CHAPTER V. THE LAST REVOLT. An Election at Paris. The Prince Napoleon Chairman. EDs Speedi. The New Assembly. Louis Napoleon's Reflections. The Bage of the Republicans. Their Leader, Ledru Rollin. His sly Maneuver- ing. A Threat against his Life. Proudhon, the Socialist The Cholera in Paris. A Rise of tlie Red Republicans. A Charge of Cavalry, A Precipitate Flight 43 CHAPTER VI. A LTTERART ADVENTURE. France in the Hands of Parliamentary Tacticians. A Thunder-bolt in Mid- winter. The President's Position. A Conspiracy against Him. Attack on the United States' Constitution, The Repubhcans refuse to Defend it M. Caylus. Emile de Girardin. His Independence. A Literary Broadside. Its Effect on the French Press. Louis Na- poleon's Panegyric. A Rescue by Lord Normanby 51 CHAPTER Vn. THE VISCOtTNT PALMERSTON. A Rencontre with an Old Acquaintance. A Dinner and its Conse- quences. A Trip to London. A Note from Lord Palmerston. A CONTENTS. Xm FAOH glretch of His Career. An Excursion to Broadlands. An English Park. Lord Palmerston's Appearance, Manners, etc. A Delightfol Dinner. Lady Palmerston. A Long Walk and a Long Talk. A Startling Proposition. An Old Church. Return to Town . . . T3 CHAPTER Yin. A VISIT TO THE FOREION OFFICE. Deep Reflections. Final Decision. A Test Demanded. Ludicrous Effect. A Second Effort. Another Invitation from Lord Palmer- Bton. A Bargain Struck. Interview with a Secretary of State. A Diplomatic Iceberg. Terms Settled, Consigned to Paria A Mis- take 9T CHAPTER IX. A DIPLOMATIC TRIUMPH. Mr. Edwardes Non-plussed. A Dinner at the Caf6 Philippe. A Quan- dary. Interview with the Editor of Lo Si^cle. M. Lamarche, an Editorial Oddity. His Anglophobia. A New Pomt of View. A Dinner with French Editors. A Change of PoUcy. Surprise of the British Embassy. Conversation with Emile de Girardin. His Opin- ion of Lord Palmerston. A Good Idea thrown in the Fire. The Horror of M. Edwardes. A Letter from Mr. Addington .... 112 CHAPTER X. THE GAUNTLET RAISED. A Conflict Approaching. The Downfall of General Changamier. His Revenge. A Scene in the Assembly. Leon Faucher gives the Signal. Jules Fabre. M. Victor Hugo. M. Montalembert. M. Thiers. General tJavaignac. M. Dufaure. M, Dupin renews the Hubbub. M. Thiers at the Tribune 131 Xiy OOKTEKTS. CHAPTEU XL A HIBUNDERSTANSmO. FAGB Lord Palmerston Mysterious. A Pacific Policy. Letters to the American Press. Mr. Crampton Consulted. A Note from M. Ed- ■wardes. He Announces that " He is Struck by an Idea." A Sec- ond Note from M. Edwardes. The Idea Explodes. A Funny Dia- logue. A Sudden and Serious Resolution 145 CHAPTER Xn. A TEJP TO LILLE. Louis Napoleon's Tact A New Dodge of the Republicans. A Dis- tinguished Party. Emile de Girardin on a Frolic French Gayety. A Jolly Supper. A Hunt in the Cellars of LiUe. A Ludicrous Dis- appomtment A Retreat Sounded. A French Manufecturer. Ora- torical Contest over a Dinner-tabla Return to Paris. Victor Hugo's Prediction .164 CHAPTER Xm. A REPRIEVE. M. Edwardes changes His Tactics. The Sang-froid of Lotiis Napo- leon, The PoUticians abandon the Elysee. Lord Palmerston's Sagacity. A Quarter's Salary. Mr. Addington Knows Nothing about t£e Matter. A Break-down- An Assault upon Lord Pal- merston. My Reflections in an Ante-chamber. A Note from Lord Pahnerston, A Practical Joke. Another Request from Lord Pal- merston to Come and " Find Him" at the Foreign Office. M. Ed- wardes quite Bothered 180 CHAPTER XIV. THE DIE CAST. Louis Napoleon Misunderstood- Literview with the President of the Assembly. A MiscalculatioiL The Politidans quite Astray. Pub- OOKTEKTS. YV PA8B lie Opinion up to the Crisis. A Split as to who should be General in Chief. The EepublicMia Bury the Eepublic. Louis Napoleon has no Alternative 203 CHAPTER XV. THK DENOUEMENT. Another Excursion to London. A Rupture Decided on. The Foreign OflBce getting Economical. Mr. Addington too Civil by Hal£ Peter Berth wick Interferes. A Diplomatic Knock-down. Mght to Switzerland. Interview with a Helvetian RadicaL The Last Quar- ter's Salary. What Mr. Addington Thinks of Kossuth. A Final Effort. Its Success. A Letter from Lord Palmerston 221 CHAPTER XVL A PRETEXT. An Unlooked-for Event. Miss Gamble. G«noa in 1851. Timothy Brown, the Consul. An Interregnum. A Letter from Brown Big with Menace. An Escape from the Galleys. Repudiated by Brown. An Appeal to the Foreign OflSce. Lord Clarendon hesitates. Re- quested to " Make Out My Case." The Foreign OfiSce, linaUy De- fies Me. " My Courtship" is my Answer. Lord Palmerston Prime Minister. Another Appeal, and another Failure 230 CHAPTER XVn. FOREIGN OFFICE VERSUS THE UNITED STATES. Lord Palmerston's Mistaken Policy. What the Times says. A Word or Two of the Times Newspaper. The Times blunders about Rus- sia. Blunders again about the United States. The Times Wakes Up, and Sees Clearer. Lord Mayor's Dinner to Mr. Buchanan. ^ Bold Language. A Dinner to Mr. Dallas. Lord Stanley speaks his Mind. Yankee Doodle applauded. Mr. D'Israeli Pitches into the Foreign OflQce. Lord Palmerston Backs Down. My Triumph over the Foreign Office 261 ZVl COITTKNTS. CHAPTER THE LAST. THE LEX TALIONIS. FAOB A Trip to "Washington. A Visit to the State Department A Portrait of Secretary Marcy. A Letter from James Gordon Bennett. What Our Foreign Minister Thinks of " My Case." His Opinion on Cuba. The Stale Department managed by the English and French Minis- ters. Governor Marcy abides his Time. It comes at Last Mr. Crampton Sets Off to Enlighten the Fordgn Office at Home. A Better Time Coming 284 APPENDED. A Letter on the United Stat^ 301 «' " England 307 " » France 314 THE ADVENTURES OF A ROVING DIPLOMATIST. CHAPTER I. A RETUOSPECT. I embarked in Eebruary, 1 849, in tlie good steamerHerman, bound from New York to Southampton, on my way to Prance, my four- teenth passage across the Atlantic. This fact must sufficiently attest the interest with whicb I had regarded the progress of affairs in Europe for many years past, as well as the opportunities that must have been afforded for familiarising myself with the real meaning of events, and the true motives of those who had insti- gated or profitted by them. I remembered no instance when I had set off on a visit to Europe with my feelings so keenly stirred as on the present occasion, and certainly the political hurricane that had swept over Europe in 1848 had left such startling proofs of its intensity and ravages as must have aroused the dullest mind. How much more, then, was my curiosity stimulated, who had so often 4 ▲ SETROSPECT. contemplated the men and scenes that now lie buried under the Alpine avalanche that had so suddenly descended, and who was accustomed to mix so often in the society of those who were either the victims of these disasters, or the more fortunate participators in that which had succeeded. There was nothing on shipboard to divert my attention, and my mind found constant aliment, there- fore, the entire voyage in contrasting the condition of France as I left it in the spring of '47, having passed the winter there, with all the incredible changes that had since transpired, and which, urged by an insatiable curiosity, I was on my road to contemplate. Louis Philippe was, then. King of the French. His royal brow, so often shadowed over by threatening perils and perplexing fear of change, beamed, at last, with a sense of complete security. His smile was radiant, his confidence unbounded. He believed his dy- nasty permanently established. M. Guizot was, then. Prime Minister. His majority, in the Chamber of Deputies, was so strong, that he treated the Opposition with contempt. When they declared that a suffrage of less than 200,000 for a population of thirty-five millions was a mockery, the arrogant Minister replied, " It is enough," and turned his back upon them. Thus, the King swayed his Minister ; the Minister ruled the Chamber ; and the Chamber dictated to France. This was the political situation, and the structure was skilfully con- structed, and seemed firm enough. The literary world was then in a state of violent fermentation. The " Girondists" was just published. Lamartine, its author, se- lecting the most striking epoch of the first revolution, had depicted its fierce commotions with thrilling power. The ex-page of Charles X. announced himself the apologist of Kobespierre, and extenuated the terrible excesses of the Reign of Terror. The aristocratic A BETROSPECT. 5 world was horrified, but the people were not indifferent to this startling transformation. The journals were, tJien, discussing electoral reform. The or- gans of Government derided boldly any increase of the franchise, whilst the Opposition prints contended modestly that the national mind was not fairly represented. Such an extravagant idea as universal suffrage never entered the brain of any serious person. The financial world, tJien, was absorbed in all the vicissitudes of railway speculation, and Kothschild wielded the golden wand tha^ had once broken in the grasp of the scheming John Law. The fashionable world was never gayer than in the winter of '47. The middle classes were busy in the pursuit of gain, and satis- fied with the results. The masses were occupied, industrious, and calm. Were they as content as silent ; no one knew or_ cared. This was the aspect of things in April of '47. France seemed tranquil, prosperous, and happy. I was not deceived, though, by the blue sky overhead, for I had scanned the whole horizon round, and knew there were portentous clouds gathering. My short sojourn in Paris in the winter of '47 was given to frequent interviews with the leading intellects of France, les grands esprits, both actors and thinkers. I passed from one to the other, discussing France and her destiny. Their elo- cution was brilliant, their views striking, but their conclusions universally differed, for each started from his own point of view. I thought it idle to analyse how far self-interest, or par- triotism, or conviction, may have swayed their opinions, but one distinct impression I bore away with me, viz., that all the leading men of France, with a single exception, seemed plunged in a sea of doubt, both of themselves and their doctrines. None knew the pre- 6 A KETROSPBCT. sent, none thought of the past, none penetrated the future. They seemed to me like so many gamesters at rouge et noir, each playing his stake with more or less composure, but all blindly uncertain of the results. I breakfasted often at this epoch with Louis Blanc, and peering into his intelligent face, sought to fathom the mysteries of Socialism. He talked most eloquently, but when I desired to examine the machinery of his system, he hesitated. His theory was not yet in governmental shape. I drop))ed in occasionally on M.Marrast, Editor of the National^ the democratic journal. *• If the monarchy falls," I asked, " what then P ** •* The Eepublic," he exclaimed I «' What kind of Republic?'* " Cela depend " (that depends), and he explained no further. I saw the contemplated French Republic was in a nebulous state. I observed on one occasion to M. de Lamartine, " Your book is making a deep sensation." *' I am glad of it," he returned, " for my publisher gave me a large sum. Here, take the prospectus with you for your friends." Strange that the illustrious author thought only of the pecuniary success of his book, little dreaming, likely, (rf the blow he had given the monarchy. I went to the house of M. Thiers, one evening, with his frieiil^ the Prince de la Moskowa. Hi.. Thiers was the chief accoucheur of Louis Philippe's dynasty, but was supplanted, at last, by his rival Guizot. I inferred his discontent, and ventured to touch a new chord. I spoke to him opportunely of the Prince Louis Napoleon. He listened. I continued my remarks, when, at length, he said, "How old is he?" A word from such a man is a volume. I divined A BETBOSPSCT. | his thought, to wit, that the Prince was young enougli to wait till he had Bonapartized France more deeply with his magnificent his- tory of the Consulate and the Empire. I discussed one morning with the brilliant cliivalric Berryer the chances of the old monarchy. *' Will it ever return ?" I queried. "Why not," he said ; " it returned once, and may it not again?* Many more remarkable men I had the good fortune to meet at th% moment I speak of, but each, as I have shown, was sailing in a bark of his own and to a different and uncertain haven. The interview that affected me most was that, which, after great difficulty, I ob- tained with the illustrious Chateaubriand. He was broken down in health and confined to his bed-room, where for a couple of hours daily he was propped up in a chair. His family alone were admitted, and I was the last stranger that ever approached him. He sat, as I entered, with his venerable head drooping on his breast, plunged apparently in stupor. I conversed in a low tone with his nephew, the Marquis de . Our conversation gradually wandered on to politics, when the nephew talked of the restoration some day of his legitimate King. Chateaubriand shook his head slowly but spoke not. After a pause we went on, commenting on the career of the existing Monarchy, and in the course of a little time the Patriarch with difficulty raised his head, his eye gazing on vacancy. " Cela ira comme tout le reste. Vavenir est au peuple" (That will pass like all the rest. The future belongs to the people.) His voice was sepulchral, and the words seemed to struggle up from his heart. His head sank downward again, and soon after I withdrew. How solemn and emphatic this renunciation of all his efforts, of all his hopes. Chateaubriand gave Christianity back to France, but his last breath closed it against that Eoyal race to whom his anoea- tors for centuries had faithfully clung. 8 A BETEOSPECT. I spoke of a single exception, amongst all tlie great intellects I encountered, that seemed to have come to a clear and positive conclusion. I sat one day at an open casement with an old man, whose thin grey locks fluttered in the gentle .breeze of spring. His face overflowed with benevolence ; the fire of genius sparkled in his eye. This was the Abbe Lammenais, first a Priest of Rome, and last a fervent Democrat, and the writer whose burning words had seared deepest the popular heart of France. His tones were calm aud deep like his conviction. " Then, the Monarchy of July," I said as I rose. «'Dead." ** Its elder brother ' — "Dead." " May they not revisit France ?" ** Like spectres— only to ranisli.** "TheBonapartes"— *' Yes, in their turn." "TheKepublic"— *• Inevitable." «Wm it stand?" *' It matters not." " Wherefore ?" His eye wandered over the plains to a distant point. •' Because in its arms only can France, the world, find rest." I have thus glanced briefly at the smiling surface of French Society in '47, and as hurriedly pointed at the powerful under- currents that were percolating beneath. I passed from Paris at the time in question, on my return home. A RETROSPECT. 9 through London. I found there the Prince Louis Napoleon, curious to know nay recent impressions of men and things in France. It was at three different epochs, what contrasts ! I had met this remarkable man. First, in 1840, I sat opposite to him at the hospitable table of his uncle, the good King Joseph, in London. He was then only known to the world as the youthful insurgent of Italy, the unfortunate conspirator of Strasburg, and the proscribed citizen of Switzerland. His career excited interest* his aspirations to the Imperial sceptre challenged curiosity. Short of stature, of symmetrical form, graceful addrtess, distinguished appearance, a lofty bearing that was rather military than haughty — these were features .easily discerned. His countenance was an enigma that defied penetration. Neither passion, nor emotion, nor thought had left any trace. The brow was calm. The eyes had an inverted look, as though steadily fixed on some inward thought. No outward indication gave token of the inner man. Impas- sibility wrapped him round like a mantle. Was it only a disguise, and what was concealed beneath ? ' I was foiled, but fascinated by the mystery that enveloped him, and from that hour I put a sin- gular faith in his star. The Prince lived in splendour, was feted and followed, and no one suspected the scheme then maturing in his mind. Next, in 1845, I obtained, with much effort, access to his prison at Ham. Five years of captivity, defeat, ingratitude, desertion, all had done theirworst, but in his dungeon, as in the saloons of London, he was still master of himself, and superior to fate. His mind clear, his spirit firm, his hopes the same. I left him again as I left him before — a believer in his destiny. I remember well the ridicule that assailed my predictions in Paris and elsewhere in 1845. but what I thought I wrote, and the Prisoner for life thus endorsed the prophecy he had inspired. 10 A SETBOSPECT. Ham, le 11 Octobre, 1846. MoNSiEim— Je vous renvoie les deux premieres feuilles de votre manu- Bcrit el je vous en remercie sincerement. II est impossible de mettre plus de tact, de bon gout, et d'esprit que vous en avez fait dans votre relation de votre voyage k Ham.  me donner une adresse pour vous 4cnre et recevez de nouveau I'assurance de mes sentimens d'estime et d'attijtie. NAPOLEON LOUIS. [translation.] Ham, the^ltli October, 1846. Sm—. I return to you the first two sheets of your manuscript, and I thank you sincerely. It is impossible to display more tact, good taste, and talent than you have done in the recital of your trip to  to send to me an address •where to write to you, and receive anew the assurances of my senti- ments of esteem and friendship. NAPOLEON LOUIS. It was no fanaticism in the Prince, nor a fantasy of mine, for I believed, and the captive of Ham well knew, that in the heart of the French peasant lay smouldering the memory of the first Napoleon, a soldier of the people, and that one day the masses would summon a second Napoleon to their head. Last, in 1847, 1 encountered the Prince again, who was once more a denizen of London. Neither exhilarated by freedom, nor depressed by ennui, he wore the same imperturbable air that had captivated me at first, and that astonished me at last. He lived tranquilly t A RETROSPECT. U boolcs — some chosen friends — simple amusements — this "wsft^fhe small orbit in which he moved, and appeared to know no world beyond. His moderate language, gentle gesture, mild regard r his slow movement, kind disposition, who could reconcile with tHese a boundless ambition, reckless courage, fiery ardour, an inflexible will, a commanding intellect, and yet stranger than all the rest, these singular contradictions, these powerful elements, were aft covered over by a thick panoply which the superficial thodglit apathy, but which the keenest could not penetrate. So deeply* buried within himself, his character was a problem none might hope to solve, and all could differently interpret. His opinions, his reflections, his intentions, who knew them ? His theories, his politics, his schemes, what were they ? It was a curious study to contrast this imposing reserve, this marvellous self-control, with the overflowing intelligence and ani- mated character of his younger cousin Napoleon (son of Jerome)i living with him in London at the last named date. One day I accompanied the Princes to a hunt, and whilst driving to the rendezvous the conversation turned on war — what a theme for the heirs of the Imperial Dynasty ! The young Napoleon was elo- quent, historical, convincing ; the Prince Louis was brief, precise but grave, as such a subject demanded. He neither discussed nor reasoned, but occasionally intervened between his cousin and myself with a sententious remark that had the effect of a judicial resume. War, he admitted, might be a necessity ; but it was im- possible to foresee whether he would accept or resist it. My surprise was all the greater at what followed. Leaving the domains of reason for that of fact, the Princes mounted their horses, and, once in action, their characters seemed exchanged. The Prince Louis was daring, impetuous, and audacious; his 19 A RETKOSPECT. cousin, on tte contrary, was prudent, careful, and calculating. The one dashed headlong after his object, the other sought it with less risk. In bidding the Prince Louis adieu, I referred to the past. " I am resigned," was his reply. I glanced at the future without a promise. He smiled serenely, whilst he spoke. " JT attends lea ev^nemens " (I am waiting events), were his significant words. He seemed not to doubt that they would come to his aid ; but who could then imagine them so near ? It was with recollections like these, and with all the random musings they suggested, that made my Atlantic trip seem a short and easy one. When I reflected that in the brief interval that had transpired since the incidents I have just related, a moral earthquake had swept over Europe, and that the monarch I had left with the sceptre so firm in his gripe was now fugitive and forlorn, and that the man whom some thought mad, and all a dreamer, was the sovereign elect of France, I felt almost disposed to doubt my reason, and was really bewildered at such stupendous changes in the fortunes of men and the fate of nations. I had read of them and pondered over them, and marvelled, but till I could witness them I felt as thou5h my iLciedulity would nev&r ceoae. FEANOE BEPUBLICANIZED. 15 CHAP. II. FBANCE BEPUBLICANIZED. I had no sooner landed at Southampton than I hurried across the Channel, impatient to see the fresh traces of the strange trans- formation that had occurred. The old port of Havre, with its granite quays, its stone houses, and rampart of hills behind, looked as solid and immovable in its republican youth as in the monarchical years they had defied. The familiar tricolour fluttered from tower and mast-head as gaily as of yore ; unconscious that the eloquence of Lamartine had ever saved it from suppression. I looked about for some token of change. "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity," the symbol of the new order of things, soon met my eyes in every direction ; but the only interpretation I encountered of these fine ■words was in the shape of passports, gens d'armes, and police. Why, these were the attributes of the Monarchy I had left, and seemed incongruous and out of place at present. To be sure, I remarked the passport bore the stamp of " The French Eepublic." This sounded well, but it was a passport still, whilst the gentry aforesaid had only changed their uniforms, and not their occupation. The motive of this, I suspected, was that some hungry contractors had suddenly professed Republicanism for the sake of a job. A change of costume for such a corps as the police, or the army, or navy of France, is an affair of millions ; but buying up Repub- licans at such a rate is costly work. In the railway to Paris I expected to hear the Republic extolled and Monarchy derided, but everybody eschewed politics, to my 14 FRANCE R£i'UBLICAI7IZED. ~ surprise. Now and then an allusion would be dropped, tut the variety of comical grimaces that ensued soon led me to perceive that opinions vastly differed upon what was, had been, or might be. One topic, however, was discussed with great relish— the rise in stocks and the return in value of property of all descriptions since the election of the President of the Republic. The effects of a revolution in an old community like France may be Irighly dramatic for foreigners, but I found it had made sad havoc with the interests of all classes. The Funds had fallen from 117 to 56, and real property was unsaleable for months, but the Constitution adopted, and the President chosen for four years — there was an end of the political chaos that had prevailed, and property ran up again rapidly. I found Paris in March '49 as gay and busy as I had left it 18 months ago. The shops were frequented, the theatre, crowded, the cafes and hotels were in no want of business. The population flowed and ebbed through the brilliant Bouvelards and its tributaries with the same easy and smiling unconcern that distinguishes the Parisians from all others. No mark^ of devas- tation met the eye. Who could have believed that in my brief absence a Dynasty had been overturned, a Republic proclaimed, a civil war quenched in blood, and a new political organisation established. These amazing feats had been performed, and yet the French were apparently as engrossed by their ordinary avocations as though nothing had occurred. This I soon found was only the surface of things, for the minds and feelings of men were by no means in the same placid condition. Everybody talked of recent events in a whisper and with 'bated breath, as though an escape had been made from some vague and dreadful catastrophe. So rapid, and various, and portentous had been events, that the minds of all were FBANCE BEFUBLICAKIZED. 16 thrown into a state of confusion that rendered any distinct opinion impossible. No one hardly knew whether to regret the past, be content with the present, or satisfied with the future. The more I sounded, the more palpable was the profound moral disorder into which all conditions and classes had been cast. A nation, no more than a stage-coach, cannot be suddenly overturned, and set up again without its occupants finding themselves in a very mixed state of mind and body, hardly knowing whether to cry out or rejoice. The lower classes of France seeoied quite elated with their per- formances. They had dethroned a King, turned out his successors, the Republican Cavaignac and party and set up a Bonaparte. They regarded this as a pretty fair specimen of their dexterous celerity in the short time employed, and they were inclined to resume order, and work with more relish. The middle classes scratched their heads, looked unutterable things, but said nothing. They did not care to have it known they never meant to upset Louis Philippe, much less to start a Republic, or, least of all, to raise up a Bonaparte, whom they en- thusiastically voted for to escape something worse. They considered they had made fools of themselves, jeopardized their interests, but hoped to get out of the scrape without avowing it. The upper classes were divided in sentiment. The Legitimists, or followers of the old Monarchy, were in ecstacy at ihe downfall of the Orleanist Dynasty. They patted the Republic on the back at having removed their hated rival. They embraced the new Bona- parte as a reaction towards Monarchy, and the mirth on their happy faces showed how fervently they believed " a good time was coming" at last. The poor Orleanists were in a woful plight, hardly knowing whether to curse others or themselves. They were in the last state of desperation, on their backs and in the gutter, groaning inwardly, unheeded, and forgotten. 16 FBANCE BEPUBLICANIZED. That small portion of society dating from the first Empire, and which bad been snubbed in turn by the elder branch and the younger, by Louis 18th and by Louis Phillippe, now came out of their hiding places, brushed up their old souvenirs, and dared to avow themselves Bonapartists. What perplexed me most was to find a Republic in France but no Republicans. I have given a faithful sketch of the National mind in its three great phases, but save the small knot of politi- cians sitting on the left of the National Assembly then delibe- rating in Paris, I could discover no Republicans. This was a curious and interesting state of things. I saw, and every one felt it, that they had only stopped at a station, as it were, and that a journey fraught with mystery was still before thera. If I had neither political theories or sympathies to stimulate my attention my interest in the fate of a great people, and in the career of an extraordinary man was too deep and absolving not to strain every faculty of my mind in watching the progress of events towards some unknown but inevitable denouement. Soon after my arrival I paid a visit to the Prince Napoleon, then residing at the Hopital des Invalides,* of which his Father, the ex-King Jerome, was just named Governor. When I saw the Prince last in London he was forbid by the laws of Franc* to enter its territory, and now his family were in possession of the Govern- ment. The Prince gave me a cordial reception. In his present exalted position I found him as affable and unstudied in his manner and conversation as when in exile. He received me in his robe de chambre, handed me a cigar, and began chatting in his usual ready and off-hand way. The intelligence of the Prince was striking; * An Asylom for disabled soldiers, founded by Louis XXV. PEANCE EEPCBLICANIZED. 17 his acquirements for so young a man were remarkable. His mind was quick, discerning, and exact. He measured a subject at a glance, and formed a conclusion with singular correctness. His views were always large and profound, and expressed with that nettete and point which reminded one of the first Emperor, whom he marvellously resembled in other respects. The same pallid complexion, penetrating glance, expansive brow; the same form of head, with its short, dark hair ; perfect parity of feature, and that abrupt, rapid movement which in the Uncle betrayed his ardent character and electric flash of thought. I commented in the course of my remarks on the strange events that had occurred since last I saw the Prince, and he discussed them without reserve, and with au appreciation both impartial and sagacious. He enumerated the errors of the fallen dynasty, and whilst his opinions of the future were neither extravagant nor theoretical, he displayed great zeal for the popular cause, and decided aversion to any reactionary movement. After awhile he suddenly asked me — " Mais, avezvous vu Louis ?" — ['* Have you seen Louis ?"] I was really startled to hear the Head of the State so familiarly treated, forgetting for an instant that it was his cousin addressing me. " No, your Highness," I replied, "I have been only a few days in Paris, and I feel, besides, that my acquaintance with the Prince naturally ends with his elevation to his present august position." " Believe me, the President will be happy to see you," returned the Prince Napoleon. Go to the ball to-night at the Elysee, and you will meet him there." "But I have no invitation." " That's easily remedied ;" and ringing the bell, he ordered as invitation to be sent to mv hotel. 18 PEANCB EEPUBLICANIZED. As I wended my way home I wondered how far the sentiments of the Prince Napoleon were shared by the President of the Re- public. They were in daily contact, and their relations were intimate and cordial. The ripe intellect, varied experience, and lofty position of the President must inspire his cousin with due respect, while I was aware that the Prince Napoleon had always been an object of lively solicitude and affection to his august rela- tive. But I saw that the progressive views of the Prince Napoleon, however sound or acceptable they might be in the President's eyes, were not such as could be easily or hastily carried out in Government, hampered, as was the Executive power, by the most jealous restrictions. I felt pretty sure that if the counsels of the Prince Napoleon were adopted, the President would soon be involved in a hot collision with the Legislative body, and the consequences might be fatal to one or the other. If the President, however, refused advice, I thought it not unlikely that the Prince Napoleon would throw himself into the ranks of the Opposition, not out of hostility to the President, but from a conviction that the interests of both required it. 