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bility, and Napoleon king of the army, Louis Philippe is king of the bourgeoisie. He is the king of suburban cits, of discount-agents, of grocers, shoemakers and glovers. What the sceptre by the grace of God was to Louis the Fourteenth, what the sword was to Napoleon, that the umbrella is to Louis Philippe. The umbrella! what a charming picture for the bour geoisie a king who walks with an umbrella under his arm. That is the right kind of king; a king who receives ambassadors in his drawers, who loves the Marseillaise, and walks arm in arm with Laffitte. Let it not be supposed that I am ridiculing Louis Philippe, on the contrary I respect him. He did what under the circumstances had to be done: he became a citizenking. This was no trifle, especially as he was the first of the kind, and had no model. He governs on original principles, while other monarchs govern by tradition. They rule according to Frederick the Great, or Joseph the Second, or Henry the Fourth. Louis Philippe rules according to himself, and according to circumstances; and as soon as he ceases to rule thus, he will cease to rule at all. His government is a matter of business, and as such he undertook it. Louis Blanc relates that on the road from the Palais Royal to the Hotel de Ville, where his dynasty was to receive the sanction of the people, Laffitte said to him, "la chose va bien," to which he replied, "elle ne va pas mal;" two merchants, conversing upon a speculation which they had undertaken, could not have spoken of it in a more business-like manner.

There are three men whose names are connected with that epoch, of whom we would say a few words. The first is Talleyrand, a man who always excited more interest than he deserved. His talent consisted in taking advantage of the weaknesses of human nature. “Il vivait," says Louis Blanc, "de la bêtise humaine." His strength was the unexampled coolness with which he adapted himself to the existing state of things. He never took pains to calculate what would happen; on the contrary he took no interest in any thing until it existed as a fact. He knew nothing of plans, designs, illusions: his mind was too barren to be able to give itself up to dreams and speculations. And because he never thought of what would happen, he was never taken by surprise by what did happen; he took things as they came, without having to give up a wish, a hope, or an expectation.

But if he had not the gift of divination for the future, he had the more for the past; he could trace, as no one else has ever been able to do, all the slender threads, the poor and frequently contemptible materials of which great and important fabrics are composed. While his con

temporaries only knew what a thing was, he knew also how it was; he knew the mysteries of what they knew only the importance. And this is the secret of the influence, which during his whole life-time he exercised over them.

But it is ridiculous to describe him as the modern French oracle, which dictated the course of events. It was easy to be an oracle, when every thing was accomplished. It is said that Louis Philippe accepted the crown, only because Talleyrand said “il faut accepter;" but all the world knew that he would give this advice, and Louis Philippe knew it better than any one else. What did it matter to Talleyrand who ruled over France? Marie Louise, the Bourbons, or Louis Philippe; it was all the same to him; he was necessary to Robespierre; he was equally so to Napoleon: he would be so to any one. "I am a necessity to France," were his own words, because he felt that all the world believed it, except himself. What cared he, who was regent, the King of Rome, or the Duke of Bordeaux ; — he would govern; he would be, as the French say, "le roi sous cape;" and this he was able to be, only by cheating the revolution.

By the side of Talleyrand we see a man of whom the reverse is true, and who was himself cheated by the revolution. Lafayette, the hero and citizen of America, was for a time the most popular man in France, or at least in Paris. The people honored, the youth loved him. He would have been able to accomplish great things, if he had possessed more spirit of enterprise; or, more properly speaking, if he had been more ambitious and less virtuous. In his anxiety not to abuse the great influence which he possessed, he preferred not to make use of it at all. Instead of determining the fate of France, he modestly allowed himself to be pushed aside; thus he became a tool where he might have been the creator. "What Lafayette wanted," says Louis Blanc, "was a firm will; he was always too timid to guide events, and yet not sufficiently abstinent to resign them altogether into other hands. Power charmed, but at the same time terrified him; full of courage, he was yet deficient in daring: the only head which he would unhesitatingly have consigned to the scaffold,

would have been his own."

Very different was a third conspicuous man of this epoch, namely, Chateaubriand. This poetical Don Quixote of legitimacy squandered away firmness of character upon a truly ridiculous idea, which unfortunately became a monomania with him. But this idea has in him something attractive, because it is contained in the touching and melancholy elements of his poetry. He feels that the world is not happy, that the

nobility is dishonored, the throne desecrated, religion despised and freedom lost. In legitimacy he seeks the remedy for all this; if legitimacy is re-established, then all will once more become great and beautiful. Who would grudge a poet his dream? And besides, it is of no consequence in what the error of Chateaubriand consists, for Chateaubriand would be in error, even if it were not on this point. Legitimacy is accidental with him; if it should be established, the poet would lament for something else; lament he must, for he would still fail to find that which he seeks, the happiness and peace of the world.

These three persons, Talleyrand, Lafayette, and Chateaubriand have been here characterized, because in them are represented three elements of the French revolutionary epoch, namely, the perfidious, the honest, and the romantic. They were all three powerful and influential, and each reader may judge which of the three gained the victory. Recent events will readily enable him to decide the question; but there is another more difficult of solution; how will it be, when they once more come into conflict?

There now reigns a universal discontent; workmen are revolting, communists are scattering inflammatory letters, and even children are appearing as the apostles of the revolution. I lately saw a large troupe of them wandering through the streets by night; they were boys and girls, from six to twelve years of age, poor, miserable things, half-starved and clothed in rags. Like shadows they flitted through the moving masses of the Boulevards, stopped in the very thickest of the crowd, and chanted low, wailing strains of misery. Sighs and tears resounded from their midst, complaints of poverty, and curses against wealth. The name of Louis Philippe was likewise heard, and that not in the

most flattering manner. The crowds who stood around listening to these daring little singers, clenched their fists, or wiped a tear from their eyes. As in the middle ages children undertook a crusade, so now they undertake to oppose the government. Nor is this the only thing which alarms the king and his ministers. The theatres are doing the same thing; I allude especially to the new play of The Rag-gatherer,' by Felix Pyat. It was with reference to this piece that a member of the chamber of peers recently complained of the tendency of those dramas, which represent every virtue as to be found only on the side of poverty, and every vice on that of wealth.

The Journal des Debats is loud in its lamentations; all, says the ministerial organ, is lost ; order is destroyed; anarchy is raising her hideous head; we are falling into the abyss of communism; the ruin of the human race is at hand! The occasion for this cry of terror is furnished neither by the universal corruption which is seen to exist, nor by the abuse of power, but by the banquet at Chateau-Rouge! That is the death blow to the human race, the "tête hideuse de l'anarchie." Odillon Barrot, Duvergier de Hauranne, Léon Maleville and fifty-eight of their associates have been so "infamous" as to be present at a banquet at which the health of the king was not one of the toasts!

Guizot as yet stands firm, but there is a fermentation going on in France, the volcano of European civilization, which threatens to become dangerous to those who are in Paris, the crater of that volcano. The disposition of the people is daily becoming more unfavorable, poverty louder in its demands, and the working classes bolder and more consistent in their threats. We stand perhaps nearer, than is supposed, to a great revolution. "Aujourd'hui des beaux rêves, et demain du sang!" as the French play has it. - Telegraph.

HOW SOLDIERS ARE MADE IN PRUSSIA.

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of Europe: but by means of its military system it has acquired, and seemingly still possesses, a first-rate influence in European politics. This has always been the case: and though the course of events sometimes changed the minor features of the system, the fundamental principle has remained unaltered. That principle is the principle of intimidation: it is to acquire influence by means of an imposing attitude, to command respect on the strength of a numerical superiority. The Prussian State has always relied on a large

fever, loss of hair, inflammation of the eyes, and consumption decimated the Prussian army in the very midst of peace, and did more execution among them, than a batch of battles could have done. The present King of Prussia seems to favor the dummy-school less than a certain martial appearance, breadth of shoulder and profusion of beard, which give his soldiers the appear

It may be said, to his praise, that he invented his clothes first, and next tried them on, to see how they would wear. This is more than can generally be said of the inventors of military hats and coats.

We have said before that the Prussians are essentially a military nation, and it may be right to add, that their kings have made them so. They came to the throne, and they maintained their possession of it by military force. They were, for a long time, the kings of their army: their dominion ended with their outposts. They were soldiers and always wore the uniform. It was on their army they had to rely: their other subjects could only come into consideration so far as they provided the food and pay of the soldiers. The Prussian kings have proclaimed the principle, and they have acted up to it: that the army ranks highest in the kingdom. It would be needless to inquire how far this principle is just and right. It is enough that it served their turn. Military persons were al

and well-drilled army. It may be said that the great problem, "how to keep the greatest number of men for the smallest given sum of money?" has been satisfactorily solved by the Kings of that country. The Prussian Kings cannot boast of any hereditary talent for generalship running in their family. Two of them only, the Great Elector, and Frederic I., showed themselves competent to the chances of war and the leader-ance of having come back from the middle ages. ship of armies; but a strong talent for Sergeantship is unquestionably developed in the bumps of all the heads of the family of Hohenzollern. The Prussian Kings were always great drillmasters; they could at all times defy the whole world on parade; they are capital hands at the organization and minor discipline of a regiment. They always delighted in the leadership of a company of the Grenadier Guards. The Princes of that house are soldiers from their very cradle. The moment a male infant is born, he is enrolled on the lists of some regiment; when he can scarcely walk, he is drilled for the parade. A Prussian Prince is a lieutenant at four, and a colonel at fourteen years of age; and what is more, his knowledge of the routine of barrack service at those respective ages is almost equal to that of most lieutenants and colonels in the Prussian army. He knows all the rules and regulations of the service, as far as they regard the dress and appearance of the soldiers; he has been taught to march in the ranks, and to keep his distance to a hair; his eye has been sharpen-ways much more forwarded than civilians. The ed to the finding out of a speck of dust on a grenadier's musket, or a fusilier's cartridge-box; he knows all the signals on the bugle, and talks as a connoisseur of the merits of a grand review. Some of the Prussian Princes are great amateurs in military tailoring. The late King of Prussia, Frederic William III., belonged to that class. He had a curious collection of dummies, as large as life, dressed in the different uniforms of the officers, sergeants, and privates of all his regiments. It was his great pleasure, and seemed almost to be the object of his life, to walk about the rooms containing this collection, and to improve on the costumes. He shortened a cuff, or lengthened a collar, or tried what an additional inch in breadth would do for the strap of a knapsack. Any change on which he determined was immediately introduced among all the corresponding regiments in the army. Unluckily he consulted only his taste in these alterations, and never gave a thought to the comfort or convenience of the soldier who was to wear the uniform. It looked well, at least to him: that was enough. The coats, czakos, and straps of his invention were so many instruments of torture. The fatigues of a few years' parade service were enough to ruin the strongest constitutions. Brain

military profession was, for a long time, and is, to a certain extent, even now, the only one by which a Prussian can obtain a station in the society of his own country. The royal table and the palace are, in a manner, open to every lieutenant; that is to say, the etiquette of the court prevents civilians, even of a very high rank, from appearing at court, while it admits all military officers of the rank of a lieutenant. A system from which regulations like these emanate cannot have been in force for any length of time without exercising a strong influence on the minds of the people. The army in Prussia excites not that curiosity and that romantic enthusiasm which other armies are the objects of, but it is, nevertheless, an object of general and serious interest.

There is, indeed, nowhere so close a connection between military and private life, as in Prussia. In that country there is no barrier, no line of demarcation between the civilian and the soldier. Every civilian of moderate size and strength has either been a soldier or he is preparing to enter on that career. Only one third of the Prussian soldiers wear the red and blue coat and the king's cockade. The other two thirds go about in the dress of peasants, of mer

chants, of mechanics, of tradesmen: they are in the church, in the schools, in the courts of justice. It is almost impossible to walk three yards in any Prussian town without meeting a soldier. He is not a yeoman or a militiaman: no, he is a bonâ fide soldier, whose years of drill are over, and whose exercise and manoeuvring is by far more regular and correct than that of the troops of the line. The distinguishing feature of the Prussian army and of military life in that country lies in the conscriptional radicalism of her recruiting system. Recruiting by conscription is by no means a new invention; the thing has often been tried by the arbitrary rulers of different countries, and some modifications of that system are even now in force in some of the continental states. But however severe these systems of conscription may be, there is always a loophole for rank and wealth to escape through; and whatever the provisions of the statute may have been in theory, the burden of military service fell always on the poorer classes of the people. Such is not the case in Prussia. The framers of the present military system were even more severe with the wealthy than with the indigent; for a man may be excused from military service on the plea of the poverty of his family; whereas no riches whatever can save a strong, healthy young "gentleman" from being enlisted. The Prussian legislators are not generally overcareful of the poorer classes; but in their military legislature it was their plan to make the army an object of interest to the people at large, and especially to the most influential members of the community. They were very right in presuming that the best way to do this, was to enlist wealth and influence.

The Prussian law of conscription is most simple and sweeping. Every able-bodied native of the Prussian dominions is bound to serve the State as a soldier, from the beginning of his twentieth year till he has reached the age of fifty. That is the fundamental principle. Such a law, if adopted by a free country like England, would be an example of the generosity and heroic devotion of the people, the like of which is not to be found in history. In a country like Prussia it is nothing more than a most arbitrary measure, which, strange to say, has hitherto had some good effects, and done little harm. The law is a very fair one, in so far as its burden lies alike on all classes and all ranks. It is vigorously executed. A Commission, consisting of a major of the army, a lieutenant, and an army physician, sits during the first weeks of May in the principal town of every borough. All the young men of that district who in that year enter the age of twenty are bound to appear before this Commission. It is a very curi

ous sight to see them arrive from all parts of the country, dressed in their best dresses, and excited by their anticipations of military life, to which many of them look forward with great joy. They are usually accompanied by the principal civil officers of their respective parishes, who take their places at the board, for the purpose of protecting those of their parishioners whose circumstances entitle them to a dispensation from military service. The young men are marched up in files, measured, and examined by the doctor. If they are too small or too weak, they are told to come back next year; if crippled and totally disabled they are at once struck out of the list. Those whom the doctor declares fit for service are successively called upon by their names, to show cause why they should not be enlisted to serve in the army. Young men of good conduct, who can prove that their parents are unable to provide for themselves, are put back for one or two years, until their brothers and sisters are grown up. The only son of an aged and poor couple is usually set down as free; the only son of a widow is free by an especial provision of the statute. All applications for freedom from military service are sifted with the utmost severity: poverty is almost exclusively the availing plea. The effect of a man's being married is of no help to him. He is told he had no business to marry before he appeared before the Commission. All fit and proper persons-usually eight out of ten are dismissed till the first week of August, when they have to appear before another Commission, which is emphatically called the Grand Commission. Its business is to distribute the recruits among the different troops and regiments of the service. Each man is again carefully examined. The finest and tallest fellows are picked out to serve in the guards. Those who can prove that they belong to the profession of huntsmen and foresters, are sent to join the rifle-brigade. Powerful and active fellows are distributed among the horse artillery, the cuirassiers, and lancers. Young men of lesser size are incorporated in the light cavalry, and infantry. Eight days after the Grand Commission has been held, the recruits are again assembled, and marched off to join their respective regiments. Their term of service in the ranks is three years. It is a very short time for a soldier to learn the whole of his duty in: and indeed the Prussian recruits are almost too much worked in the first six weeks of their service. They must learn to handle their muskets and sabres, and to march in files. They have from six to eight hours' drilling each day, besides attending at three musters, when their dress and appearance is minutely inspected by the officers. When the

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private soldier in the crack regiments has scarcely one hour of the twenty-four which he can call his own. He is busy from morning till night; he is always either on duty or preparing for duty. Sunday afternoon is, in fact, the only free time for a Prussian soldier, and even then he has not much time for mischief, for at eight o'clock the retreat is sounded. A great deal of bad behaviour is in this manner prevented, and the young men are accustomed to habits of clean

rudiments of the service have been taught the recruits, they are at once received into their respective companies and battalions, and instructed in the field service, to march and manœuvre in companies, in regiments, in brigades and in divisions. They are practised in shooting at the mark and fighting with the bayonet; and those who do not know reading and writing are taught to do so. Each soldier has, moreover, to attend for one or two hours a day at a school, where an officer first lectures, and then examines on vari-liness, industry, and good order. Besides their ous theoretical points connected with the service. They are taught how to behave on guard, in the field, in bivouac; they learn something of the nature and qualities of fire-arms, and some of the fundamental rules of field fortification. Many of the young soldiers make great progress: others, on the contrary, are extremely stupid. Hackländer, in his "Sketches of a Soldier's Life,”* tells an amusing anecdote of a recruit of the artillery, who could not be made to understand and remember what gunpowder was made of. The lieutenant, who lectured on gunnery was in despair. The fellow could not remember the three articles: brimstone, charcoal, and saltpetre. The moment they told him, he forgot all about it. The colonel of the brigade was at last informed of the circumstance, and tried what he could do. 66 Gunpowder is made of saltpetre, charcoal, and brimstone," said the colonel, "now tell me what is gunpowder made of?" "It is made of charcoal and brimstone -and-and". In fact he knew not. The colonel fancied the poor fellow was bewildered, and frightened by the idea of talking to one so high in command as himself. 'Well," said he, "I see how it is," and taking off his hat with the large white plume, he put on a gunner's forage сар. "Now," said the colonel to the recruit, "you must forget that I am your colonel. Think I am your old friend and comrade, Jack, the gunner. Can you manage to fancy that?" "Yes." "Very well! Now, I come to you, saying, 'My dear fellow, do tell me what the deuce is gunpowder made of?' What would you answer to that? Speak freely!" The recruit thought for a moment, and then said: "What would I answer? I'd say: 'Do n't ask me questions. You know much better what gunpowder is made of than I do!'"

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Besides the necessity the Prussian generals are under, of finishing the education of their soldiers in three years, there seems to be the very prudent maxim among them, that a soldier must be hard worked to prevent him from getting demoralized and mischievous. Indeed, a

Das Soldatenleber im Frieden. Von F. W. Hackländer. Vierte Auflage. Stutgart, 1848. London, Williams et Norgate.

military duty, they learn a great many things, which in after life are very useful to them. They are taught, by necessity, to wash their linen, to mend their clothes, and to cook their dinners. A certain number of men, headed by an officer, are every day on duty in the kitchen. The officer has to see to the quality and quantity of the materials provided for the common dinner, and the men prepare the victuals and cook them. No soldier leaves the Prussian service without having acquired the rudiments of the art of cookery. Almost every article which is used in the barracks is manufactured by the soldiers themselves; their clothes, too, are made in a regimental tailor's shop, the foreman of which is a sergeant, who has given satisfactory proofs of his proficiency in the trade. This system is a capital one, on account of its cheapness. Indeed, it would be next to impossible for a country like Prussia, without colonies, and with none but her internal resources, to keep an army of between two to three hundred thousand men, if each individual soldier were one half as expensive as the soldiers of other nations — for example, the English. A Prussian soldier gets about three halfpence a day for his food, but out of this he has to provide blacking and pipe-clay for the cleaning of his shoes and arms. Besides, he has two pounds of bread a day. An English reader will fancy that the soldiers must be halfstarved on so meagre an allowance, but it is no such thing. The young peasants never look so stout and blooming as during the years of their military service- it fattens them. Most of them sell one half of their allowance of bread to the poorer population in the neighbourhood of the barracks. The lower classes are very fond of the king's bread; it is very good, and the soldiers give it much cheaper than the bakers. An infantry soldier costs the king of Prussia for his clothes, arms, and victuals, between six and seven pounds a year. The expenses of the cavalry and artillery are proportionably greater. But the grand economic feature of the plan is, that after a three years' service, the man is sent back to his home to follow his trade or a profession. From that moment he costs almost nothing, and yet he is still a soldier. It is to the

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