sion by the most democratic of republics and the most stern of military empires,-by a restoration, a second revolution, a constitutional limited monarchy, a third revolution, and an anomalous, ambiguous, tottering republic. The social changes which the country has undergone have been no less startling. Vassals and serfs till sixty years ago, the people suddenly became, first, the equals, then the tyrants of their former masters; and after losing their power under the empire, and being firmly repressed under the succeeding dynasties, they saw Communism for one short period actually triumphant and in power, and are still struggling to replace it at the Luxembourg. The middle classes, non-existent or insignificant under the old monarchy, and unwisely despised by Napoleon, have been dominant since 1830, and promise to remain so still; while the aristocracy, formerly the proudest and mightiest in Europe, have sunk into apparently hopeless impotence, retaining even their titles with difficulty, and in occasional abeyance. Hitherto, in all the manifold forms which her government and her society have assumed, France has been almost equally unfortunate she has travelled round the whole circle of national possibilities, aud like Milton's Satan, has contrived constantly "to ride with darkness."

When the revolution of 1848 once more summoned her to the task of reconstruction, that task was far more difficult than at any former period. In 1789 her course was comparatively clear, and her materials comparatively rich. There were scandalous and universally

recognised abuses to be removed; enormous grievances to be redressed; shameful oppressions to be cancelled; and rights long and cruelly withheld to be conferred. There might be danger in all these changes; but the changes were rendered necessary by decency and justice; and the necessity was clearly seen. The old theories of government and society were to be swept away, but the new ones had been long ready to take their place. Men might be mistaken as to the value of the objects they had at heart, and might overestimate the advantages which were to flow from their attainment; but they had no doubt or confusion as to what these objects were. They knew what they wanted. The enthusiasm of the reformers might be irrational, and their faith fanatical; but they had a faith and an enthusiasm as earnest as ever carried martyrs unflinching to the stake. They had a new political framework to construct, but they had the constituent elements of that framework ready to their hand: they had an existing though a damaged monarchy; they had an aristocracy, frivolous, corrupt, and haughty, but still retaining some of the better elements of nobility within its bosom, and numbering many generous and worthy men among its ranks; and they had a tiers-état, indignant at past oppressions, thirsting for the promised freedom, energetic, trusting, simple, and with a loyalty not yet utterly extinguished. The court, the clergy, the high nobility were discredited and corrupt; but corruption had not yet penetrated the heart of the common people. They had a hard task to fulfil, but the means of its ac

complishment were within reach there was devotion, energy, and zeal in ample measure- -there was high virtue and aspiring genius—there was eloquence of the loftiest order, and courage tried in many a conflict, all girding up their loins and buckling on their armour for the struggle.

In 1799, the task was a clearer and a ruder one still-it was simply to replace an anarchy of which all were sick and weary, by a strong government of any kind. In 1830, it was simply to enthrone a monarch who would govern according to the law, in the place of one who sought to govern by his own foolish and wicked will. But in 1848, when to the amazement of all and with scarcely any note of warning, the monarch fled and the dynasty and the constitution crumbled away like dust; and when the social as well as the political structure seemed to be resolved into its original elements, France saw before it a labour of a far more herculean cast, surrounded with far more formidable difficulties, and demanding a profounder wisdom. It was not the reconstruction of a shattered cabinet-it was not the restoration of a fallen dynasty-it was not even the reform and purification of a partial and perverted constitution:-it was the re-edification of society itself,—of a society corrupt to its very core,—in which all the usual constituents of the social edifice were poisoned, damaged, discredited, or non-existent-in which the monarchy was despised—in which the aristocracy was powerless-in which the clergy was without influence or general respect-in which the leading poli

ticians could not furnish forth a single man able to command the confidence of the people-in which the middle classes were hopelessly selfish and devoted to material interests, and the mass of the lower orders were enduring severe privations, and swayed to and fro by the wildest theories and the most impracticable' aspirations.

The purely political difficulties which presented themselves to the reconstructing statesmen of 1848, were the least they had to encounter. Yet these were embarrassing enough. When James II. abdicated or was dismissed from the English throne in 1688, he had only one rival and possible successor. The nation, too, as far as it could be said to be divided at all, was divided between the adherents of James and those of William of Orange. The old parties of Cromwell's days were extinct or powerless. But in France there were, and are still, four distinct parties, any two of them capable by their junction of paralysing and checkmating the others,--any three of them, by their union, able to overpower and drive out the fourth. There were the old Legitimists, who acknowledged no monarch but the exiled Count de Chambord; not strong in numbers, or in influence, or in genius; inexperienced and unskilful in political action, and singularly defective in political sagacity; strangely blind to the signs of the times; living in dreams of the past and visions of the future ;—but strong in this one point, that they alone of all the parties which divided France, had a living political faith, firm religious convictions, earnest an

cestral and traditional affections, a distinct principle to fight for, and an acknowledged banner to rally round. Though not numbering many adherents or vassals even in the remoter and less altered provinces, their position in society as the undoubted heads of the polite and fashionable world, and embracing the oldest and most respected families of the ancient aristocracy, gave them a certain influence which, much as the prestige of high birth has been dissipated in France, was still not inconsiderable.

Next to them came the Imperialists-those whom recollections of former glory, and worship of the memory of the most wonderful man of modern times, attached to anything that bore the name or the impress of Napoleon. Their chief strength lay in the army, whose veterans looked upon their great captain almost as on a demigod, whose soldiers had known no spoil, and whose marshals no glory, since the empire had departed, whose thoughts were always dwelling on the campaigns of Jena and Marengo, who were constantly thirsting to renew the triumphs of Austerlitz, and to wipe out the discomfiture of Waterloo. But, besides the army, this party could count a great number of adherents among the middle classes, who remembered how Napoleon had restored order and stability at home, while he extended the boundaries and the influence of France abroad; how he had opened by force new Continental markets for their produce; how he had stimulated industry, protected commerce, and covered the land with roads, bridges, and public institutions. Among the commercial people,