ence will not serve to assist it in the ballot-box. | warded; namely, in the strength or cunning of There is no fear that coqs de village will, as a matter of course, crow in the Deputies. There will, however, be workmen in the new French Parliament. At which innovation English Toryism is naturally wroth; inasmuch as it is gross sacrilege to the Property God set up in the English Commons. For in England a man is only acknowledged to speak from his breeches pocket: otherwise he is a "dumb dog." Witness the millions of Englishmen whose only voice in the matter of taxation is in the ringing of the coin they cast into the exchequer. They speak to taxes only when they pay them. And therefore to Tory, aye, and to Whigs- for like toadstool and mushroom they often demand a curious eye to mark their difference—a workman in a national assembly is an abomination both to eye and nostril. They consider the evil flourishing -if it should flourish in its mischief some eighteen miles from England, as a political cholera threatening to the lords spiritual and temporal, and the Parliament assembled. The plague that decimates a nation may be conveyed in a single garment. Who shall predict a limit to the social disease invading England from workmen's coats in the French Chamber of Deputies? A disease-more fatal than moth's to velvet and ermine? And therefore is the French Republic abused and heavily ridiculed by English party. Now, it is assailed with dirty words; and now with drollery in labor, miscarrying of a pun. The sittings of the workmen continue to be held at the Luxembourg, Louis Blanc working there like the incarnated spirit of industry. What a mighty question for the human race is now in course of solution in that old palace that old fastness of human tyranny feasting upon human wrong. And gentle Whigs and Tories, and breeches pocket bigots of all denominations, - whatever be the result of this Parliament of Industry, this Wittenagemote of hard hands, whatever be its ending, whether in the fulness of assured success, or in complete but passing failure, the question of the rights of labor will become the one possessing question throughout the civilised world. Kings, and thrones, and dynasties, and standing armies, — will be powerless, put aside, defeated by the onward progress of that invincible question; invincible, because animated by eternal justice. It is in vain for social selfishness to hope to avoid an acknowledgment of the claims of the men who make wealth. We look for no Utopia, when the gold in the Bank cellars will be estimated as so much dross; but we know the time will come when the true source - the real mine whence the metal is obtained will be acknowledged and duly re - the laborer's arm. The heart of labor is "coin'd for drachmas ;" and the selfishness and injustice of the world return him something like a fraction of a farthing in the pound. As the world progresses, this old form of calculation will be reformed. For it is a truth, certain as arithmetic, that the question has taken root, and is vigorously growing. And as for crushing it to its first insignificance, you might as well expect to condense and return a sapling oak into its primal acorn. With much ignorance, there is great commonsense and withal, there is a great desire for education among the working men of France. They are, moreover, to a man, Republicans; and tradition and their own experience tell them that in France at least, the blood and sweat of labor have been too long transmuted into the superfluous wealth of king and class. It may be objected to this praise of the French laborers, that with all the injustice and cruelty of ignorance, they have hurried the Englishman from the soil. Very true this, and very sad. But how many respectable, educated, liberal Englishmen have sometimes in their dealings a like tyrannous spirit? How often every week, and in how many advertisements to the unemployed - does the spirit of persecution insultingly proclaim to millions that "No Irish need apply ?” Unemployed foreign workmen still flock to France. At this moment there are bills upon every wall, giving notice to such aliens that they will not be employed alike with Frenchmen out of the Government allowance and further, that they are liable to be expelled the kingdom. Thousands of English laborers-to the sorrow of the Provisional Government - have been driven from France. Yet, in the face of such expulsion, other workmen have crossed the Channel, in the hope of participating in the wages promised by the Government to the native workman. What does this prove? The existence of an universal and deeply-seated wrong. The laborer is the pariah of our transition state, in which machinery is the despot of the multitude. Set in motion by a more equitable spirit, it will work for, and not against its makers. Hitherto, the workmen of Paris have, in the heaviest destitution, exhibited noble patiencetouching forbearance. They are supported by a great hope; they, moreover, have a deep faith in the honesty of the government; in the power and unanimity of the Chambers about to assemble. Here and there an inflammatory, felonious placard is addressed to their passions; read, and hitherto unheeded. One of these counsels the unemployed to take to themselves as a matter of faith a determination not "to suffer any man to enjoy a superfluity, while others want." Now this same "superfluity" might be somewhat arbitrarily interpreted; but hitherto, in any sense, the interpretation has been unattempted. The English continue to quit Paris. This is scarcely to be wondered at, for the writings of their countrymen, like a firebrand, are of a sort to make them take to their heels again. Timid Englishmen write spasmodic letters, when once safe at home. British subjects are at the mercy of the trading Gaul. A milliner threatens to denounce her customers unless a new gown be paid for at a double price. And straightway, the affrightened lady has throughout the day a cold thrill at the neck, thinking of the guillotine --and Robespierre, Marat, Danton, and the rest of the bloodsuckers smack their lips at her from the chintz of her bed-curtains through the night. If the English inhabitants the few that remain are outraged, they may mainly thank English printers'-ink for the insult. When ladies and gentlemen-the latter good old women spoiled are permitted to put each his daydream and night-mare into print - when the lightest expression of the merest gamin of Paris is set forth as the heart-deep sentiment of Frenchmen; and the quick sensibilities of a nation are stung by pismire gossip - shall we wonder if the follies of the absent are visited upon the guiltless? At present, however, I have witnessed nothing but courtesy towards the English. Indeed, a courtesy refused to Frenchmen. On a recent visit with other Englishmen to Versailles, we were informed that only a part of the palace was open to the public. The governor was appealed to, when he immediately granted free entry to every part. He could not refuse such hospitality to Englishmen; though, in his own words, he was "impitoyable à ses compatriots." Here we found the statue of the Duke of Orleans removed to a place of safety, and the statue of Joan of Arc - the beautiful work of a good and gifted woman-walled up and protected against the wild outburst of republican rage. Pictures, illustrative of Louis Philippe's lying royalty, were in the course of removal. (Is there room for them at Claremont ?) That painted perjury, the swearing to the Charter, was - like the perjurer-laid flat upon the floor. What tedious, teazing magnificence is in this palace of Versailles! Gold, gold, everywhere gold, that the sense is jaded with it. After it a plain wainscot room, with the decencies of furniture, comes quite refreshing to the spirit, parched as it is with such a heat of glory. After all, roy alty must have its sufferings of splendor. For my plebeian part, I could as soon find repose in the furnace of Abednego, as comfort in the blazing rooms of Louis the Fourteenth, who crushed whole generations to sepulchre their happiness in a garish palace. Louis Philippe, among his other good deeds, has brought together all the pictures historical of Napoleon's victories. Battle-pieces in almost every room.— -Yes; through almost every apartment, the God or rather the Devil of Battles has stalked his way, tracing history with his bloody fingers upon every wall. But let us get back to Paris. As I have already said, the city is perfectly calm; awaiting the elections. In the meanwhile the Provisional government work almost day and night. No doubt, they have committed their mistakes; but how few in comparison with the difficulties that beset them! When we consider the load upon their shoulders, let us wonder that they have stood so unshrinkingly beneath it. But there are folks who, considering Atlas himself, would wonder why he bent quite so much taking it for nothing that it was only the world upon his back. A little more generous sympathy-a little less readiness to be severe, or scornful, or even humorous towards the gentlemen whose noble and no less difficult task it is, to keep in harmony the social elements of a mighty kingdom-can be no hard or useless sacrifice on the part of Englishmen. For let us, for only a moment, consider what France has accomplished by this her last-may it be her last!— revolution. Has she not awakened all Europe? From state to state, the torch of freedom-like the torch in the olden dance - has passed on; the torch lighted at the blazing throne, consumed at the Bastille. A few days ago, and the Emperor of Austria-imperial hydrocephalus ! — talked about using against his discontented subjects "the powers that Providence had placed in his hands." Such powers of Providence-in the dictionary of kings-mean bayonets and artillery. The Divine right of royalty is always manufactured in the royal arsenal. Well; where is the Emperor now? Why, abject before his risen people! Europe, drugged by despotism, was falling into torpor, when the tocsin of Notre Dame awakened her to strength and liberty. Where is Austria, where Prussia, Saxony, Bavaria? Why, there is not a gamin of Paris who may not rub his hands, and kick his heels, rejoicing at the task that even he― small political schoolmaster!— has taught the imperial and kingly dunces. Whatever be the issue of the French Republic, mankind must be its everlasting debtors. It 296 Newspaper Press in France During the First French Revolution. has gloriously worked out the liberation of thought. The free intellect of man is no longer snipped and killed by the censor's scissors. There is not a press throughout Europe, whose untrammelled working is not an added voice to the choral burst of Freedom. And for us, what have Englishmen to fear from the consolidation of the French Republic? Translated for the Daguerrrotype. THE NEWSPAPER PRESS DURING THE FIRST FRENCH REVOLUTION. A real history of the French Revolution, and a history of the newspapers and newspaper-writers, during the period of the Revolution, would be the same thing. We cannot, however, at present, attempt such a history, and must content ourselves with presenting to the reader a few statistics connected with this subject. there in each year there naturally arose many new journals which had disappeared before the next. We are acquainted with many which attained the age of three, of six, of twenty numbers, which endeavoured to gain popularity by the most extravagant titles and mottoes, by the most shameful language and obscene emblems, wood cuts and caricatures, by extraordinary form and size,—and for which all these mancuvres only gained the brief existence of a week. Among such were "Le Journal des Sans Culottes," with the motto: "Les âmes des empe du pied et qui le fera bien voir;" "Le furet Parisien" with the motto, "Je dévoilerai vos intrigues;" "La liste des ci-devant nobles;" "Le tailleur patriote;" "Le journal de la Rappé ou Ca-ira, Journal * patriotique," &c. If any paper was successful, a number of imitators immediately stole its title, and thought to enrich themselves by making it their capital. Thus there were a number of "Patriote français," but Brissot's Patriote was the only one which maintained itself. The celebrated name of Herbert's Journal called forth a number of The literature of the Revolution was entirely a newspaper literature; it cannot lay claim to any other. The spoken word, alone, could have stemmed the power of the newspaper press; but for men like Mirabeau, Robespierre, Brissot, and many others, the heaving public of the legisla-reurs et celles des savetiers sont jetées dans le tive assemblies was far too small; their speeches même moule;" "Le véritable ami du peuple, were spoken newspaper articles, and as soon as par un sansculotte qui ne se mouche pas they had passed their lips, were transferred to the columns of the innumerable editions of "Letters to my Constituents," Defender of the Constitution," and "French Patriot," and flew, like a shower of winged arrows, into every corner of revolted France. French literature had, therefore, completely resolved itself into journalism. The stream continued to swell until the ninth of Thermidor, and then flowed more quietly along until the times of the Consulship, when it disappeared and left no traces of its existence. We are speaking only of Paris, and although we would not venture to fix, within several hundreds, the precise number of the journals which were published between the years 1789 and 1800, we can assert that we have ourselves seen more than one thousand which appeared and expired during this period. In the year 1789 appeared about 160 new journals, in 1790 about 140, and in 1791 about 185. The existence of these journals was just as insecure and ephemeral as the influence of the party leaders. Days like the 10th of August, the 5th Germinal, the 9th Thermidor, which demanded many victims, terminated at the same time the existence of all the journals which supported the defeated party. Where each one could say what he wished, where each could try to play the part of a great man and a writer, Père Duchesne," of "Mère Duchesne," and some of them have copied Herbert's style and method so accurately, that the genuine Père Duchesne can only be distinguished by the overturned stove (le fourneau renversé) on the last page. Of the mass of journals which survived but a few days or weeks, the most celebrated is "Le vieux Cordelier" of Camille Desmoulins. It was the second year of the republic; the Jacobins were engaged in purifying their club, and the cheerful, life-loving part of the revolutionists, to which belonged Danton and Camille, were an eye-sore to the stern, narrow-hearted Jacobins, who had been indoctrinated by Robespierre. When it was the turn of Camille to justify himself for having undertaken the defence of the Newspaper Press in France During the First French Revolution. 297 Robespierre; also the "Ennemis," the "Antis," brave General Dillon, he could only stammer | long about a dozen "Défenseurs," including the forth a few unmeaning excuses. Robespierre "Défenseur de la Constitution," by Maximilien volunteered to defend him, only in order to make his ruin more certain. Camille possessed not the gift of oratory, but no man on earth ever had in a higher degree the talent of writing powerfully. He rushed home, and on the next morning appeared the first number of the "Vieux Cordelier; "-with the sixth, his head fell upon the scaffold. The "Vieux Cordelier" is not, however, the best of Camille's journals; his whole power is manifested in his "Revolutions de France et de Brabant;" but the Vieux Cordelier is a tragedy, such as never before was written. In the bosom of poor Camille all the elements of the revolution contended for the mastery, enthusiasm for all that is great, admiration of the chief party-leaders, pride in his own share in the events of the period, compassion for the victims, despair of the final result, — all these had turned the amiable Camille's head, before he lost it on the guillotine. It is, in fact, only a thorough knowledge of the newspapers of the period, that can give a true insight into the revolution. Such a knowledge is by means easily gained, and the foregoing sketch will only give a faint idea of the vastness and complexity of the subject. - Dampfboot. The names of the journals of the revolutionary period strongly indicate the social principle of division of labor. There were more than two hundred papers under the name of "Journal," "Le Journal des Mécontents," "Le Journal des Paresseux," "Le Journal des droits de l'homme," " &c. Then there were a mass of We translated the curious particulars con"Bulletins," "Feuilles," 66 Annales," "Chron-tained in the foregoing article under the strong iques," "Courriers," "Messagers," "Correspondences;" and a few " Tribunes," "Avantgardes," "Avant coureurs," "Vedettes," "Sentinelles," 66 66 Miroirs," Tableaux," 66 Fanaux," and "Lanternes." In addition to morning, evening, and midnight papers, there was a "Point du jour" (Daybreak), an "Etoile du matin" (Morning-star), an "Aurore," and even a “Lendemain,” with the motto "Je cours toute 'la journée, je lis toute la soireé, j'écris toute 'la nuit pour le lendemain.” (I go about all day, I read all the evening, I write all night for the morrow.) These were titles under which any sentiments might be promulgated; but there were many others, the names of which indicated their special design. Among these are the many "Patriotes," the 66 Republicains," and the "Amis;" of the latter the most celebrated was Marat's dreaded "Ami du peuple." It commenced its fearful course on the 12th of September, 1789, and closed it in September, 1792, a few days after Marat had been elected a member of the Convention. To the same class be "Camille Desmoulins," says Lamartine in the History of the Girondins, "was small, thin, and had but a feeble voice, that seemed to pipe and whistle in the wind, after the tones of Danton, who possessed the roar of the populace."- ED. DAG. impression that, as like causes produce like effects, a state of things so similar to that which existed in France during the last ten years of the eighteenth century, would be likely again to throw enormous gains and enormous influence into the hands of the journalists of Paris, and thus to lead to a large increase in the number of journals, and to a repetition of many of the extravagances committed at that period. Even while we were engaged in translating these particulars, the intelligence was crossing the Atlantic, that the fulfilment of our expectations has already commenced, and we subjoin an extract from one of the foreign journals, which fully proves that the revolution of 1848 appears likely, in this respect, to rival that of 1789. Our readers will perceive that the names of some of the most celebrated of the old papers have been revived. With regard, however, to at least two of those which it names, the journal, from which the following extract is taken, is in error. L'Atelier and La Fraternité are not new papers, but have for some time had a large circulation and very great influence among the workmen of Paris, and the editors, strenuous advocates of the rights of labor, the former a compositor, and the latter a working shoemaker, are among the candidates recommended by the central Committee, and will probably be among the representatives of the city in the approaching National Assembly. "One of the most striking examples of the late political catastrophe, is exhibited in journalism. Not only is the circulation of the established journals enormously increased, that of La Presse alone having risen from 36,000 to nearly 80,000, but a swarm of smaller journals have come into existence. A sort of spurious race of newspapers, distributed by hawkers in all quarters of Paris, and sold usually for one sou, the profits being two fifths of a sou, has begun. The names of these feuilles are sufficiently significative of their quality and character. Here are some specimens given from memory. L'Ami du Peuple, La Voix des Clubs, La Fraternité, Le Saint Public, La Peuple Constituant, L'Assemblée Nationale, Le Journal des Ouvriers, La Voix des Femmes, La Liberté Religieuse, &c. These are distributed in all the public promenades by thousands, free from the control of any police. On the public ways the venders spread them out on the trottoirs, stick them on the bands of their hats, and hang them round their persons, by way of provoking the appetite of purchasers; they sometimes shout out the leading lines of remarkable news, just so much as to tantalize the buyer and extract the sou." FRAGMENTS OF THE LIFE OF A GERMAN PRINCESS.* Biography is a branch of literature that daily gains ground with the public; and which is proportionably cultivated, not so much, perhaps, in consequence of the encouragement thus held out to it, as from the bent towards it being quite as strong in the writer as in the reader. The thoughtful, philosophical style, which poets introduced, and romancers have adopted, from Goethe and Byron down to speculative Bulwer and practical Dickens, has taught the present world of readers to study their own hearts, and search those of others, with a keener interest; and memories, which in the days of Charlotte Elizabeth of Orleans were mere tittle-tattle, that Madame de Pompadour and Trenck almost elevated to the dignity of history, offer, now, all the heightened interest which truth can impart to a pleasant or wondrous tale. True, even this tendency has its abuse; and often are people reproached with bringing before the public memoirs of insignificant people of people, in short, who have played no conspicuous part, either by their position, merit, talent, or even chance, in the shifting scenes of life. Yet there is not one flower that blooms on earth, however humble its appearance, and small its virtues, which the botanist would disdain, or look upon for the first time with an incurious eye; thus to the philosopher there is not a mind that has not developed some strange, unlooked-for quality, be it good or bad-that has not, by the manner in which it embraced life, thrown some peculiar light upon it-in short, that is not worth the analysis. There is not a tale of real life, however common-place, that does not read a lesson or point out a moral; nor is it in the power of fiction ever to move the sympathies of the heart so deeply as real sorrows, hopes betrayed, wayward wishes disappointed-nor any thing so elevating as the contemplation of the persevering struggle crowned with success, or so touching as enduring and innocent affections, well depicted, that we know to have existed, not in the imagination merely, but to have passed through this world in a tangible form. Besides, how often will the selfsufficient spirit rebel against the author's foregone conclusions! Life's conclusions cannot be disputed; and how often, were the tale of each life revealed, would one be forced to own, “que le vrai n'est pas toujours vraisemblable." Real life has alternations of good and evil — of high and low in sentiment, action, and situation, which the boldest pen, except in France, could not venture upon which all silently know to be true, but none dare step forth and openly proclaim. The maliciously-inclined may, indeed, insinuate that the widely-spreading taste for memoirs is akin to that peculiar quality inherent in the children of Eve, which prompts us to discuss the affairs of others, while living, and to investigate their lives and sentiments after death. Something of this there may be. Gold itself only becomes fit for use by alloy; why should not the powers of the mind be of a complicate nature too? Be that as it may, no biography can be totally uninteresting; and that which has just appeared of the late Princess Augusta of Nassau Usingen will, doubtless, attract notice, as well from the rank of its subject and its contents, as from the easy manner, which adds so much charm to thought, be it spoken or written. It is by a lady of society-this is felt at every line it breathes malevolence to none, and is |