I was struck with some excellently drawn lithographic pictures in the windows of the print-shops of one of Fourier's dreams-the Phalanstère. There it was, wearing a most seducing appearance, as a thing in real existence. A most imposing assemblage of buildings, of palace-like elevation and architecture, displayed itself in the mid-ground, such as might be contrived out of a dozen or two of Escurials. This was the residence of a community of happy "Socialists." Picturesque woods waved in the distance of the landscape, with roads radiating through them from the centre, nicely contrived for all the purposes of pleasure and of business. In the foreground are groups of equally improbable children, all happy and beautiful without exception. Here was a fraud, if ever there was How fascinating! Who would not wish to renounce his mud cabin in the country, or his garret in the filthy faubourgs, for that bright elysium, where all is joy, and plenty to eat and drink. The ignorant and the poor look, wish to believe, and are not long in believing, that society ought to be forthwith regenerated by Victor Considérant.

one.

I believe, in matters of political economy, the French, as a nation, are behind all other people; for they have such conceit in their false systems, and have such an elaborate system of dogmatism with respect to them.

It seems likely, I think, and, indeed, I believe it to be the opinion, more or less openly expressed, of all parties, that France will settle down into a nominal republic, for a few years at all events. But it must reflect in some way or other the opinions of the more influential classes. It must be practically a Police-a power to preserve good order, and to protect property and industry. Duly to protect these is the only way to minimise destitution, and to attain a permanent fund for the support of the really destitute. But in a country so addicted to fêtes, to show, to pleasure-among so theatrical a people-the republic can never be a stern one. It must be a gay and gaudy one. Its ceremonies must be impressive and processional. Authority must continue to clothe itself in "uniform," and must not only exist, but be a thing ever present and visible. An old gentleman will no longer live at Neuilly, driving daily in the midst of guards to the Tuileries, and back again, and taking the first place in the ceremonial of government, but with that exception I doubt not we shall see things externally much as they were. The Guizots of the day will govern without a king reigning.

Not insensible to the many merits of the French people, and fond of their country as I am, I returned to England after a week spent in Paris in September, 1848, well contented that I was an Englishman, and congratulating myself that we had, in the best spirit of civilisation, found out the method of effecting both organic and administrative reforms, without passing through the ordeal of sanguinary revolutions.

October, 1848.

KOL.

THE VISIT OF THE FRENCH NATIONAL GUARDS TO

LONDON.

BY MR. JOLLY GREEN.

[IT will, we are persuaded, be a satisfaction to the readers of the New Monthly Magazine to learn that our gallant countrymen, Mr. Green, has safely returned to England after the numerous perils and hardships which he lately encountered in Paris. We had already prepared for publication an account which Mr. Green was so kind as to forward to us, of his imprisonment in the Château de Vincennes, and his escape from that fortress, but the more recent visit of the French National Guards to London, under his care and pilotage, has induced us to postpone that narrative until next month, believing that the latest intelligence from so enterprising a traveller would be the most welcome. A few introductory words which Mr. Green has prefixed to the present paper, will sufficiently explain how it happened that he was in a position to assist in dispensing the hospitalities of the metropolis to our warlike and well-whiskered neighbours.

ED. N. M. M.]

An ancient Roman poet-Hesiod or Plato, I am not sure which,--has fancifully compared human life to a chess-board, the black and white squares by which it is equally divided bearing the same relative proportions to each other as the amount of good and evil which falls to our lot in this world. The illustration is, in my opinion, not an unhappy one, for whether we act from impulse, necessity, or design, we all have an equal share of both, just as the pieces on the board shift from black to white, and from white to black at every move. The sable hue has latterly predominated in my fortunes, but I am happy to say that their present aspect is as bright as heart can desire.

In explanation of this state of things, I shall briefly observe, that when General Cavaignac became aware that a mere escapade, a simple ebullition of youth and ardent spirits, had been magnified into a political crime, and that there was in reality nothing dangerous in me (I mean, of course, in a political sense), he at once, in the name of the French Republic, made me an ample apology for the privations and ill-treatment which I had undergone; and in a private interview conferred upon me the privilege of wearing the uniform of the National Guard, with the honorary rank of captain; with the distinct understanding, however, insisted upon on my part, that I should at no future period be expected to bear arms against my native country. On Podder, as the faithful companion of my misfortunes, a similar privilege was bestowed, with the inferior rank of private.

In consequence of this diplomatic appointment,-for so I think it may be considered, being one eminently calculated to establish a good understanding between France and England,-I'left the capital, accompanied by Podder, and proceeded to Boulogne, where I proposed remaining a short time to recruit my health and spirits. The pure sea air effectually established the former, and the agreeable society into which I was thrown

completely restored the latter, and led in some degree to the circumstances which form the subject of what I have now the honour to communicate.

I believe it is scarcely necessary for me to remiud my readers that while I have successfully cultivated the arts of peace, I have also always manifested a strong military tendency. With the quick eye of a consummate strategist, General Cavaignac detected this propensity in the course of the interview I have already adverted to, and this no doubt led him to make the offer I have described, as the one best calculated to be agreeable to my feelings. It would have been a sad want of politesse on my part, both towards him and the gallant nation he so wisely governs, had I not constantly worn the brilliant uniform of the National Guard during the period of my sojourn in France. There was, indeed, no occasion, public or private, on which I did not appear in it, and I obliged Podder, though a little against his will, to do the same. The secret of his unwillingness lay, I apprehend, in the fact that he knew he had not a good military figure; I was disturbed by no such scruples, and it would have been absurd to have entertained any, for every person I met at the table d'hôte, at tho balls and everywhere else, actually went out of their way to inform me how well I looked in regimentals. And I have not the slightest doubt I did, or why should the men have stared and the women have smiled at me in the way they were in the habit of doing.

My means being tolerably ample, and money going further in France since the revolution of February than it did before that event, I lived in as good style as the place afforded. I went to every party, gave several myself, and, in short, became very popular. The English looked upon me without jealousy, and the French literally adored me, the National Guard especially, who hailed me as a brother-in-arms, and did nothing but fraternise with me. I never sat down to breakfast at the Hotel des Bains (where I was stopping) without being surrounded by ten or a dozen of these fine fellows, who, I must do them the justice to say, had capital appetites of their own. At dinner, too, it rarely happened that three or four of the most distingué amongst them were not my guests, and the night seldom passed without a party of us going to the theatre or some other place of amusement together. Never in my life have I met with merrier dogs; and so well disposed were they to enjoy themselves and entertain me, that let me say or do what I would, they were always ready to laugh. This is the real lightness of the French character, which to those who understand them as I do, makes them so agreeable. Podder, whose perceptions are not like mine, seemed less amused at their sallies. It made no difference to me, but the greater part of them knew English or spoke it, though in a broken sort of way, and were consequently better able, poor fellows, to understand my jokes than if they had been only uttered in French. There is nothing sets a man off so much in society as being a linguist, and for my own part, knowing the two languages so well as I do, I think I am fairly entitled to the appellation of a double entendre.

The officer whom I most distinguished from the rest, and with whom I soon became on terms of the closest intimacy, was Hyppolite Percale, a captain of the 7th Paris legion, at that time on leave of absence from the capital with a few other friends. He had a brother in the National Guard at Boulogne, and had come to pay him a visit, profiting by the occasion to take the nineteen dips which are the ultimatum of a

Frenchman's sea bathing for the season. Captain Percale was not an aristocrat by birth (though his sentiments were truly noble), and he had for some years conducted a linendraper's establishment in the Rue St. Denis, which, previous to the revolution, was a tolerably thriving concern. Had he depended upon his profits since that event, the sum he expended on his ménus-plaisirs would have been small enough, but luckily he had saved money, and was thus able to put a better face on matters than most of his neighbours. With military frankness he let me completely into the state of his affairs, and his confidence was not ill-bestowed, for, on various occasions, I managed so as to prevent his making unnecessary inroads into his slender capital, without appearing to perceive that a few hundred francs more or less could make any difference to him.

One evening, after a party at billiards at the Café Vermond, a knot of us, including Podder, Percale, Captain Froment, of the same legion, Lieutenant Haricôt, Brigadier Botargo, and a few others were enjoying ourselves drinking burning punch, in what the French call a particular cabinet, when a bright idea flashed across my brain.

"I say," I exclaimed, holding my cigar at arm's length as I spoke, "I say, what do you think?"

This truly British address roused the attention of my companions; they saw something was coming.

"How should you fellows," pursued I, "like to pay a visit to

London ?"

"My God!” replied Captain Percale, "I should be ravished, enchanted, if I went there!"

"I have want to see him all my life," said Captain Froment; “but was never expect to be so very lucky."

"Sapristie!" exclaimed Lieutenant Haricôt.

"Diable !" ejaculated the brigadier.

"There would be no great difficulty about it," continued I, "if you were willing to go."

"London is a very expensive place," observed Captain Percale; "he must have a long purse what will go there."

"Et le mal de mer," added Lieutenant Haricôt.

"As to the expense," returned I, "that I think could easily be arranged; and for sea-sickness, why it's all over in two hours; nine times out of ten the sea is as smooth as the basins in the Toolery Gardens. Just make up your minds, a lot of you, and say you will be of the party, -and I'll manage the affair to your satisfaction."

"A tought have strike me," said Captain Percale; "England and France are two great nations. More and more zey should know each other. Ze Captain" (meaning me,-I was always called so by them,just as people say 'The Duke') "have confide himself to ze honor of our beautiful Paris, we will pay one visit to the hospitable shore of London. Ze National Guard of France shall fraternise wiz ze Anglish peoples." "Good!" exclaimed I; " you shall go in your uniform, in full fig, hey? I'll wear mine. I'll take you everywhere. I know every body, -it shan't cost you a farthing. How they will stare at us. 'Pon my soul, it's delightful."

There was something infectious in the enthusiasm with which I spoke; every man now seemed charmed with the thoughts of the excursion.

A few eloquent words of mine had gained the day. I ordered in more punch, and we discussed the project more fully.

I decided upon despatching my secretary, Podder, by the early boat next morning, to make all the necessary arrangements at the railwaystation at Folkestone, to secure apartments at the Sablonière Hotel, and procure the insertion of a few paragraphs in the London papers, announcing the intended visit of the National Guards of France to the British metropolis, with an intimation to certain of the illustrated journals that we should be quite ready to sit for our pictures (at dinner) the moment of our arrival in Leicester Square.

As I am one of the nunc aut nunquam school of politicians, and like the Roman conquerors, who made a point of striking when the iron was hot, always ready for the Cæsarian operation, I put my intentions in force the next day. Podder had an audience in my bedroom to receive his final instructions. I supplied him with what money was necessary, and dismissed him on his journey. He fulfilled his mission in a very satisfactory manner, informing me, by letter, of having completed every arrangement, so that on the second day after his departure we were ready to start.

It was a fine morning on the 12th of October, 1848, when seven travellers, attired in full military costume, might have been descried approaching rapidly towards the quay opposite the custom-house at Boulogne-sur-Mer, with the evident intention of embarking on board a steamer which was then lying at the wharf. They were gallant-looking fellows, especially their leader who, though he wore the same costume as his companions, and exhibited an aspect no less martial than theirs, was distinguished by an air which showed that he was born to shine, not only in the warlike camp, as the poet says, but in the glittering court and in the shady grove. On his firm brow and in his steady eye might be read the indomitable resolution which distinguishes the native of the British isles, and in the manly stride with which he trod the quay, the pace that has overrun the world.

A multitude of persons were assembled to witness the departure of this compact body of adventurers whose destination was the far-off shores of Albion, and as the last carpet-bag slid down the ladder which communicated between the steamer and the quay, a loud and unanimous shout of adieu burst forth. It was genially responded to by those on board, nor did the echoes of this touching farewell cease to vibrate along the rocky shore as long as the gallant vessel, with her yards apeak, her anchor ataunt, her capstan fidded, and her bowsprit well belayed, still lingered on the verge of the horizon. Up to the latest moment, the gallant individual already alluded to, might still have been seen conspicuous on the prow, waving that schako which had so often faced the battle and the breeze. When all had faded into silence and dim obscurity, the helm was put hard-a-midships, the windlass caught the freshening gale, the funnel, like another crater, poured forth fresh volumes of smoke, the paddle-wheels revolved, and once more ploughing the ocean, the wanderers pursued their solitary way.

Such, I have no doubt, will be the language of the future historical novelist in attempting to describe the departure of the French National Guards from Boulogne with me at their head; but the task of narrating what befel them on the soil of Britain is one peculiarly my own.