flourished, and seemed to be striking its roots deeply into the national heart. The Republicans dispirited and disheartened by the failure of their various insurrections retired from the streets, and ceased for a time, to annoy the government openly; but, although no longer visible, their party was by no means finally broken up, nor their future hopes destroyed-"The snake was scotched, not killed." In 1840, the ministry of M. Guizot accepted office, and every succeeding session appeared to strengthen his position by reducing the number of his antagonists-the liberal, or dynastic opposition, as it was termed, declining almost in exact proportion to the length of time this distinguished minister held the reins of power. So insignificant and so impotent did the Cotè Gauche at length become, that its existence almost ceased to excite any interest; and that ardour, which is usually expended upon attempting to place the opposition in the seats of office, was transferred to organize a new party, springing up without the walls of the Chamber. Notwithstanding this accession of strength, the prospects of the Republicans were anything but promising; and whatever expectations they might raise respecting the future, one might venture to say none of them imagined the fall of the Orleans dynasty would occur before the death of its founder. Amidst that apparent apathy which prevailed over the French political world in 1847, the Republican party could not be said to have taken possession of society, or to have materially increased in importauce. On the contrary, in the summer of that year they were evidently in the shade,

and no one would have dreamed that they were only six months from a final and complete triumph; or that at the expiration of that period, the chariot wheels of the Republican chiefs would be passing over the ruins of the monarchy. The prominent leaders of the party, however, soon perceived that before any permanent or continuous support could be derived from the people, some great and fundamental principle must be enunciated, having for its object advantages more alluring than the mere attainment of political power. Socialism, hitherto obscured, appeared upon the scene to claim their attention; they embraced the offer, and applied the influence of its doctrines to transfuse popular enthusiasm into the Republican cause. Thus identified and interwoven, Socialism and Republicanism soon became one and indivisible.

No one, however courageous, however gifted, or however eloquent, can long retain command over the masses of mankind for the prosecution of a great design, unless he can impress upon them the principle for which he has assumed to be their leader, and by which they have been attracted to become his followers. As Robespierre asserted the natural innocence of man to be the guiding star of the philosophy he attempted to inculcate, so our modern revolutionists have declared the natural equality of man to be the beacon which directs their perilous course; and to that superstitious and fanatical faith, by which the multitude are intoxicated into the belief that boundless benefits will spring forth from these deceitful theories, we must equally turn, whether we seek the cause

which enabled Robespierre to practise his remorseless barbarities upon the scaffold, or whether we seek a reason for the savage atrocities of the barricades, under the sway of Barbes. In the one instance, as

in the other, it was the deep conviction the multitude had of the rectitude of the principle they had embraced, although that principle was in reality founded upon error which conferred such a mighty influence upon agencies otherwise contemptible and insignifi

cant.

The refusal of the government to grant reform; the infatuation under which the people laboured respecting Socialism; the scarcity of provisions, combined with deficient employment for the poor; the apathy shown by the national guard, as well as by all political parties towards the reigning dynasty; and the want of energy and determination displayed by the king; all concurred to produce one of those extraordinary political convulsions, for which Paris seems so peculiarly destined to be the theatre. A few days sufficed to change the capital from a state of perfect order, into a scene of anarchical tumult, worthy of the times in which Etienne Marcel and Robert le Coq figured at the head of their rebellious companions. Voltaire remarked, that when the political passions of the French people were once excited, the merest accident might convert a simple street quarrel into a serious revolution; and it cannot be doubted, but that the unfortunate volley fired upon the mob, by the regiment in the Rue de Capucines, had a great share in terminating the Three Days of February with so fatal a

catastrophe as the fall of the monarchy. The changes of the Revolution were almost as rapid and complete as those of a pantomime. One night Louis Philippe sat consulting with his council of ministers in the salons of the Tuilleries; the next, Monsieur Albert was presiding over his select committee of ouvriers, seated like so many Oriental Muftis upon the velvet cushions of the Luxembourg. It was much the same as if Guy Fawkes had succeeded in blowing up James the First with his parliament, and called his fellow-conspirators to a council at Whitehall. The Three Days of February, 1848, were equivalent in the work of destruction to the three years required in 1789, to batter down the original fortress of the monarchy. If Mr. Burke, in his day, called the members of the Constituent Assembly "the best architects of ruin the world ever saw," what would he have thought of the Communists and the Democrats of the nineteenth century, who included the 23rd of June and the 10th of August, for the royalty of Louis Philippe, in a single week. For destroying constitutions or subverting governments, there is no one equal to a poet who has turned legislator, and, instead of making good verses, employs himself in making bad laws. As Frederick

the Great used to say, "If you want to ruin a province, set a philosopher to govern it"-the French people will at last discover that it is better to put their trust in princes than in poets. The Revolution having placed the Republicans and Socialists in power, their leaders, under that most desperate of expedients a "Provincial Government," presided over,

what may be termed for want of a better designation, a chronic anarchy. Frenchmen having heard and read much about liberty, began now to enjoy it. Having planted the tree, they began to taste the fruit. As to the provinces, they hardly knew what the Revolution meant, until the commissaries of M. Ledru Rollin paid them a visit. These gentlemen were invested with that moderated kind of authority, termed "full powers." Quels sont vos pouvoirs? Ils sont illimités. Pour l'accomplissement de votre tâche vous etes investis de la souveraineté du peuple:" thus instructed in their functions, the commissaries commenced a pecuniary Reign of Terror, in which the victims lost their money instead of their heads. The first operations of these provincial pro-consuls were conducted upon true Socialist principles; they ordered bankers not to remit any deposits which might be demanded; and they decreed that no one should leave a town with more than 500 francs in his possession. Capitalists were to contribute an additional tax, the amount of which was to be levied by a jury of Socialists. Every arrow taken out of the Socialist quiver, was directed against the capitalist, who became at length convinced that he was making very little progress towards liberty, but very rapid progress towards equality. Defeated in the Constituent Assembly, and perceiving that the power of the sovereign people was passing out of their hands, the Socialists made a bold struggle to regain the mastery upon the barricades of June; but under the threatening approach of a general pillage, the army, the bourgeoisie, and the national