A glance at the advertisements on the walls would lead at once to the same conclusions. I had seen Paris the last time at the height of the political fever. Political pamphlets, political papers were advertised on every wall, seriously encroaching on the domain of the old theatrical "posters." These have always held their ground, but by the side of them there is an enormous development of speculative advertisements. I do not mean by this the advertisements of pushing tailors and haberdashers, as with us, though these abound also, but railway-traffic advertisements, and advertisements of sales of lands, of timber, of goods of all sorts. Take any sweep of wall allowed for advertising purposes, and you may see that these two things, pleasure and speculation, occupy nearly the whole of it. The intellectual element is nowhere, except in the shape of a few advertisements of classes for adult instruction, though these are far from being as numerous as they were twelve years ago; the political element is equally nowhere, except in the shape of official ordinances, decrees, or regulations, on matters of public concernment. this point, indeed, we should do well to take a lesson from the French. In Paris, the law is, to a great extent, really published; with us its supposed publication is a solemn farce. The suppression of politics is equally visible in the small news-shops, which in former days would have swarmed with the cheaper democratic papers. Now, you may see there the Figaro, the Monde Illustré; perhaps in the priestly quarters, the Ami de la Religion,-i.e. scandalous gossip, woodcuts, and a seasoning of bigotry. For such politics as they can get, the masses evidently do not care. And, indeed, the incredible vacuity of the French newspaper never strikes one, until for a time one forgoes wholly the English one for it. At a London club or coffeehouse, if we chance to take up the Débats or the Presse, supplementing it unconsciously to ourselves with what we have read in a broad English sheet, we do not feel this emptiness, and may

On

or anecdote. But when there is nothing else at hand, the void becomes apparent. We see, as it were, the leaden hand of power endeavouring to crush out the brains of France; the wit and dexterity of the writer becomes almost painful,-one could almost fancy a child darting to and fro under a falling steam hammer. The worthless little halfpenny papers, I may say at once, are spoken of by teachers as one of the curses of the day for children, though there is one illustrated one treating of popular science, of which I forget the name, which is said to be really good.

And yet I was in Paris, when, as my friends told me, people are beginning to talk politics again; when certain criticisms on government measures have been allowed to pass unnoticed; when the police is less prying and troublesome. Does the ruler of France think, indeed, that he has by this time shaped the nation to his will? One might be tempted to think so, to see the military air which has been impressed upon almost everything. Of the multiplication of barracks I have already spoken; that of soldiers is still more striking. I declare that in the Champs Élysées of a Sunday afternoon, almost every tenth man I met was a soldier. It made one's heart turn actually sick to think of the many honest men and women who must work themselves to death in order to keep all these armed men in idleness, until such time as they shall be let loose on France or on the world. Nor can I help saying that the multiplication of outlandish uniforms-zouaves, spahis, and the like-is of itself an ominous feature. Why are Frenchmen among Frenchmen to be transmogrified into mock Mussulmen, unless it be to estrange them the more from each other? Then came the ridiculous side of the thing. Official or non-official, almost every educational establishment has now adopted a uniform. Not only is this true of the colleges, those even which consist only of day scholars (it was of old the case as to those that take boarders), but of the private schools, so that, down to the age

sham soldier. Never was I more impressed with the feeling that, to be really honoured and loved, our volunteers' uniforms should be as simple, as nearly akin to civilian dress, or at least to well-known military costume, as possible,―that, to be useful and fruitful, our cadet corps should remain purely voluntary bodies,-than in wandering through the streets of Paris.

The artificiality implied in the imposed use of the uniform is apparent, indeed, everywhere in Paris among the children. It has always been the fault of French children that they were too much like little men and women. This is far more apparent now than ever. One quite sickens to see the tiny toddles that are made to flaunt in crinolines, or to strut solemnly in jackets and trousers. No freedom of movement is possible; the wee creatures think only of their clothes and of themselves; play feebly and affectedly, cry easily, and comfort themselves in all ways as nearly as possible like the artificial used-up men and women that they are likely to grow up into. Little as was the taste of French boys at all times for physical exercise, I am told it has almost wholly died out. The schoolmaster thinks himself dispensed from all further care on the subject if he has set up on his premises the eternal, intolerable gymnastique. Even where there is space for more, nothing is done. The very game of ball, the last remnant of a healthy spontaneous exercise in the French schools, has nearly disappeared. The boys walk about and talk, generally of worse things than politics.

And I could not but think that the effects of this unhealthy education were visible in the male population. The generation which has grown into manhood since the empire, of, say from eighteen to twenty-eight, seemed to me singularly undersized. I am barely a middle-sized man in England; yet of half a dozen waiters in the hotel where I put up at first, there was only one over whose head I could not look. told however by one friend,-though

I was

another that the standard of height

for

the conscription, after having reached its minimum, was slightly rising again. I had not time to verify either statement. But except the picked corps of the army, a portion of the building operatives and labourers, and a sprinkling of really well-grown, handsome young men, of a type formerly very rare in France-evidently the sons of those rich malcontents of the Orleanist and Legitimist parties who have turned their backs in dudgeon upon Paris, and betaken themselves to a country life-I really saw no tall wellmade men in Paris.

Very different was it with the horses. Here the improvement is unquestionable. Amidst many screws, and certain queer suspicious-looking creatures, with wonderful action of the forelegs, and the oddest falling off of the hind-quarters, there were many really beautiful animals, both under saddle and in harness. The omnibuses are capitally horsed, as well as most of the builders' carts-only the cab-horses have grown for the most part wretchedly meagre with too much work. Yet they do what they have to do very slowly, and strangely contrast in this respect with the speed of the omnibuses. I forgot to try and solve the cause of the difference. Certain it is that the stout little Percheron cab-horse of Louis-Philippe's time has disappeared, or is so worn out as to be unrecognizable.

Wide streets, less habitable houses, under-sized men, an improved breed of horses, such seemed to me among the more obvious outward fruits of the French empire in Paris. What is there below? Anything else than what the ruler has sought to establish! From what I have heard from men unknown to each other, living in quite different parts of Paris, different in station, religion, politics, occupations, I feel perfectly satisfied that the Third Napoleon has not succeeded in reconciling one single class of the population of his vast capital, the throbbing heart of Continental Europe,-to his rule. A feeling

-a feeling of disgust with the present, which even the deepest Christian feeling could not overcome-were what I found everywhere. It is well known that the two aristocracies of birth and of wealth, -the Legitimist and the Orleaniststand yet haughtily aloof. As to the working classes, the very marrow as well as sinew of the French nation,so far from their having become imperialized, it is the very reverse process which is taking place. The great increase among them of republican views was attested to me by several men whose authority on the point was decisive for me. "Before 1848," said one to me who had been the representative for a great town of France, we were but 2,500 republicans in ; now the "whole youth of the working classes "there are republican." Calmly and steadily, and with full faith in ultimate victory-not conspiring, but on the watch for every opportunity-these men await what they deem the inevitable future. They say openly that the republic of 1848 perished for want of republicans; that it shall not be so in future. They entertain no delusions as to the Bonapartist fetishism which prevails among the French peasantry. But they believe, and I think justly, that the life and thought of the nation are in its towns, and that, where these lead, if they show themselves really capable of leading, the peasantry must follow.

And let me say at once, that among these men I found no jealousy, no bitterness towards England. It was the same with all, whether those who for a time had inhabited our country, or those who had been compelled to no exile from their homes; all were alike frank and friendly towards us, as I had always known them. It was different-as I had found it twenty years ago-with the more educated, the professional classes the classes that read the papers, and do not perhaps wholly disbelieve them. With these, the occasional fierce outbursts of the Times, or some other of our newspapers, careless to distinguish between the French people and its

in the way of sarcasm or invective are always carefully reproduced by the imperialist press, have rankled and do rankle deeply.

I do not mean to dwell here upon questions of foreign politics; but I will say that upon two points there appeared to be a thorough conviction in the minds of all,—the first, that the French occupation of Rome would cease ere long,―— the other, that these visits of the Kings of Prussia and Holland to the Emperor evidently portended some new rectification of the French frontier, some revendication of territory (both

new

words are studiously used in an article on the subject in the Presse) to the north-east. On the first point I was informed by a devout Roman Catholic of the liberal school, anxious to see an end put to the scandal of the Romish government, and speaking at first-hand from a bishop, that the Pope's disease (diabetes) is expected to carry him off in six months-the more ominous symptoms, such as the swelling of the legs, having decidedly increased of late-and that this is the opportunity which is expected to be taken by the Emperor for withdrawing his troops. I am bound to say, indeed, that the mere handing over of Rome to Italy for a capital is not the consummation which all look for. Some, who know Italy and the Roman people, cling rather to the idea of a neutral Rome, not Italian, but universal a little municipal republic, with a religious centre within it. They doubt whether Italy is yet in a condition to have a permanent capital, but rather incline to think that, when it has become so, Florence will be found to offer the best centre of political influence.

On the other point, I received information which left me no reason to doubt of what is plotting, and what, indeed, I have expected from the first. A vigorous French propagandism is being carried on both in Belgium and Rhenish Prussia. In Belgium, although the more intelligent classes, who know what freedom is worth, are strongly opposed to absorption, even the most vigorous

pelled to admit that it would not be difficult to obtain, under given circumstances, a vote by universal suffrage for annexation. On the one side, the manufacturers, whose superior skill already enables them to introduce their goods into France in the teeth of high duties, look forward to the throwing open of the whole French market to them without tax or toll. On the other side, the workman, who knows that, whilst he earns two francs a day by his labour in his own country, by crossing the French frontier he may get three francs and his food, is easily persuaded that the difference of earnings is that between royalty and imperialism. The only question as to Belgium is supposed to be, Will England let France hold the Scheldt? No such difficulty, indeed, occurs as to Prussia, which is expected to play the part of a German Sardinia, with the Rhenish provinces for a Savoy. Nearer than all, however, and plainly pointed to by the French journals, is considered to be the absorption of Luxemburg, Holland's outlying Germanic province. This, indeed, seems such a trifle that it is hardly ever discussed. But, in whatever quarter it may take place, some acquisition of territory is looked forward to as a counterpoise to the expected evacuation of Rome, lest the star of imperial prestige should wax pale. Of faith in any official denials on any such subject, I found no trace or thought anywhere.

Of internal politics I shall say little either. The act of travelling in itself impressed one with the feeling that the age was, indeed, one of expiring formalism. Passports, octroi, seem to subsist for the sole purpose of maintaining employés; they have evidently no faith in themselves. The simple declaration of nationality, on which an Englishman is admitted, must lead visibly to a suppression of passports for all. I had an amusing conversation on the subject with a fellow passenger, a gendarme at a seaport, who admitted that many persons passed before him as English, as to whose nationality he was quite uncertain, his conclusion being that it required

to know who was to be let pass, and who to be further questioned. As to the octroi, the sole remaining use which I see in it is that of training the people to patience before the doors of the salle are opened. Those who imagine the French to be an impatient race have only to watch with what exemplary patience they bear this process, even when arriving by a late night train.

But, if formalism be expiring, arbitrary power-the "régime de l'arbitraire," as the French well express it is everywhere. As I was at Versailles, within an octroi-man's hut, in which a friend had taken shelter from a storm, there hung placarded an "arrêté" by the mayor, that, inasmuch as various thefts had taken place, which were sup posed to have been committed by wan dering gipsies, who professed to sell brushes and other goods, such persons were not to be admitted within the town. Technically speaking, the mayor, who has power to take temporary measures for public security, probably did not exceed his legal authority. But imagine a whole class of traders stopped from entering a town, not because they obstruct circulation, or otherwise hinder others, but because some of their number are suspected of dishonesty. Or take," again, the following case, which dates only a few months back, from the heart of Paris. A commercial firm, of republican principles, wishing to test the reality of the much-vaunted advance in liberalism of the imperial government, drew an old statuette of the republic out of a corner, and placed it on a high shelf in their counting-house. Not a fortnight elapsed before they were honoured with a visit from the commissary of police of the quarter. "You "have seditious emblems here, which "must be put away," began the official, who evidently did not even know where the corpus delicti might be, and vainly looked for it for some time, when they maliciously asked him to point it out, till at last, raising his eyes, he suddenly espied it.

I have given these two cases, trifles