ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE FROM FRANCE.
Paris, November 16.
Amidst cold, and freezing, and snow, and the general indifference of the people, has the new Constitution of the country been promulgated. A popular feast in open air at this time of the year was rather a bold under- taking; but as, with us, public festivities are often likely to degenerate, if not into a regular French fight, at least into something like Irish rows, the worse the weather the better it is. We are quite biases upon such ceremonies, and snow was not a very effective prompter to enthusiasm. Poor Gardes Nationales, freezing and blowing in their fingers, went desperately filing around the statue of the Constitution,—a very fine statue crowned with laurels, with a lance in one hand, a roll of paper in the other. It was like idols of old, "mires habent, et non audient." In the centre of the Place de la Concorde a gigantic altar had been erected, about 100 feet high. There took place this most strange ceremony, a mixture of Christianity and Paganism. On one hand, the President of the Assembly, reading aloud under heavy fall of snow the 120 articles of the new fundamental law: the man is shivering and coughing, and an usher throws a cloak over him. Next to him, there is the President of the Council, General Cavaignac, biting his frozen immstachios, wrapped up in his African caban, and eagerly looking for absent Enthusiasm. On the other hand, there are five or six Archbishops and Bishops and as many hundred priests walking in a procession, preceded by the cross. The new Archbishop of Paris ascends the immense al- tar, as if to come nearer that God absent altogether from the whole per- formance: in haste, he says a low mass—a military mass, as quick as pos- sible. This takes place in the presence of men of all creeds, if of any creed at all; most of them, indeed, thoroughly unbelieving, who perhaps have never seen once in their lives the inside of a church, and have ever treated sacred things as mere puppet show. But as a consolation, they look at the obe- lisk in the square, and they say with Napoleon, "From the top of that pyramid forty centuries gaze at us!" and that pleasing idea comforts them. On every side of the altar, with the words "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity," you may read inscribed the maxim, "Love one another"; and some thirty or forty thousand armed people, who will tomorrow perhaps fire at each other, philosophically repeat these brotherly words. And in what spot is that Christian-Pagan ceremony performed? What name shall we give to that too famous place? Shall we call it Place Louis Quinze? or Place de la Revolution? or Place de la Concorde? How many tragedies and comedies has it witnessed, and is still doomed to wit- ness? The ever-flowing fountains which adorn it have not yet washed the torrents of blood that had stained its pavement. Would to God that the Divine oblation there offered upon that altar could atone for so many holocausts of human beings! But why associate such thoughts, when in that religious ceremony the very first idea wanting was religious feeling?
The promulgation of the Constitution could not divert public attention
from the only momentous question of the day, the Presidency. You can • not expect me to speak of anything else, as nothing else is spoken of. Nor would I attempt to predict the result of the election, as it is impossible to foresee the drawing of a lottery. As time goes on, the contest grows thick- er. The process of elimination has reduced the number of candidates to four, two of whom only seem to be serious. There is no more talk about Marshal Bugeaud, or General Changarnier, or M. Thiers; Lamartine has no chance: Ledrn-Rollin is the adopted candidate of one section of the Republican party; but the main body of the Socialist party discards him, and will vote for one of a more reddish colour, RaspaiL The struggle, therefore, is to be between Cavaignac and Bonaparte; and it will be one of life or death for the Republic. Already some manifestoes have been brought forth. Ledra-Rollin has not made any, but his friends have spoken for him, and the party called the Montague has issued an address. It has in- deed nothing new; it is the glorification and deification of that greatest plague of France, excessive centralization. Everything is to be done by the State: gratuitous education, railways, mines, canals, the whole of it is to become State business and State property. The " droit an travail " and "progressive impost" are of course inscribed in the programme. All this the Montague declares itself ready to accomplish through legal and peace- ful means: a second edition of O'Connellite xren:al force or moral farce. The most special feature of Ledru-Rollin's position is, that being pledged to the principle of no Presidency, he claims the office with the condition of proposing afterwards a law to abolish it, and to leave the entire governing power to a single Assembly.
Cavaignac also has issued an address; one moderate enough, and which would have conciliated many of the Moderate party, if it had not been too late for that. It is peace-looking abroad and conciliatory at home. Issued some weeks ago, it might have done some good; but now engagements have been made, and almost the whole of the Moderate party is pledged to Bona- parte.
As yet, Bonaparte has published no programme. If he is wise he will publish none. His name speaks for him; " nominor quia leo ": any talking or speechifying of his would destroy the spell. Napoleonism is a religion: like every popular creed, it has mysteries, and, as such, must not be ex- plained. It implies faith: never was more applicable the Augustinian maxim, "Credo quia absurdum." The Bonapartist canvass would, therefore, progress spontaneously, na- turally, even were it not supported by numerous friends. But that name has been selected as a ground of battle, and the man himself as an instru- ment. Amongst the soldiery, or the peasantry, there may be sincere Na- poleonism; but in the feeling which prompts the upper classes to vote for Bonaparte, you must not look for anything else than hate of the Re- public. For them, Bonapartism is what they call "a bridge." All very well, but a bridge to what? As I already told you, I fear the Mode- rate party are taking a reckless course. What if the bridge itself were to break, and all of them go overhead in the river? If they succeed in throwing down the Republic with Bonaparte, what will they do afterwards with Bonaparte himself? But it would be idle to reason: it is always the same word, "The die is cast." Every one looks eagerly to a denouement—to the last act of the drama; and for that the most popular, the most symbolic and emblematic name, has been selected. As in all Imperialist melodramas, the curtain is to fall on the apotheosis of Napoleon in the midst of "feux de Bengale." What I fear is, that it might end with something more serious than fire- works. While military chiefs and political men are fencing on the front of the stage there in the background and in darkness stands the People, silently watching its opportunity.
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