Oscar, President of the Council.Percheron, Minister of Finance.Comtois, Minister at War.
Surprised by the national guards just after the issue of a decree providing for its personal comforts, the new government was suddenly broken up. Assisted by Comtois, who forced two or three doors with his shoulder, Oscar escaped, pursued by horrible visions of an army of police on his track, of capture, a dungeon, or perhaps the scaffold. With the greatest difficulty Paturot persuades him that his retreat is not an object of diligent inquiry on the part of the executive, and that, during the day's brief anarchy, too many lists of new governments have been drawn up for particular attention to be paid to that, at whose head figures the name of the crack-brained artist. As a good precaution, however, he advises Oscar to shave his beard and his head, and take a course of cold douches, measures calculated to mislead as to his identity, and to calm the effervescence of his ideas.
But Oscar is incorrigible. A mob is for him an irresistible magnet. He must join it, and, having joined it, he must swell the cry for the crotchet of the hour. For a time (alongtime Paturot calls it, in consideration of the popular fickleness) the republic had been the ruling mania, and held undisputed sway with the multitude. Alone she waved her banners to the breeze, and filled the air with clamour, defying opposition. Suddenly a new sound was borne upon the gale, an echo of military glories not yet forgotten; a new standard was unfurled, inscribed with the names of Austerlitz and Jena. "The Empire raised its head; it had its emblems and its rallying-cries; it had also its candidates. The manifestation was sudden as it was unexpected. It had been thought that the Old Guard and the Emperor were done with: the latter slept under the granite of the Invalids; the former, sculptured on the Vendôme column, mounted spirally towards heaven. Dear and sacred memories! why disturb you by absurd pretensions? Why load you with the responsibility of ridiculous enterprises? Your greatest honour, your highest title, is your isolation in history, detached from past and future, like a terrible and luminous meteor." The people did not reason thus. They wanted change, a new toy, no matter what. Every night, from eight to ten, crowds assembled on the boulevard near the gates of St Denis and St Martin, (the old resort of the disaffected,) and animated discussions went on. Groups were formed, orators stood forth, the throng increased, the circulation was impeded, until at last the armed force appeared and the mob dispersed. For some time this was the order of every night. "Revolutionary emotions yielded the ground to imperial emotions. Vincennes was eclipsed by the fort of Ham. Was it calculation or impulse? Perhaps both: calculation on the part of the chiefs, impulse and enthusiasm on that of the people. Strange people, lovers of noise and gunpowder, who rush into the street without a motive, and fight to the death ignorant why or wherefore!"
Oscar was easily seized by the imperial mania. His dreams were of dinners at the sovereign's table, of the run of the palace, princely estates, and diamond snuff-boxes. According to him, art had never received such patronage as from Napoleon: and he greatly distressed and alarmed his friend Jérome, by spouting under gas-lamps highly-coloured harangues concerning the marvels of the imperial palace, and of the King of Rome's baptism. As Paturot drags him away one evening from hisal-frescoaudience, they are followed and accosted by Comtois, who carries them off to a wine-house, to make an important communication to the general, as he persists in calling Oscar since the memorable day at the Hotel de Ville. The Emperor, he solemnly and mysteriously informs the friends, has arrived in Paris. His exact whereabout in the capital is not known. Some say he is in thelanterneat the Pantheon, examining the city with his telescope; others are positive he has gone down into the Catacombs at the head of 42,000 Indians: but the general opinion, according to Comtois, is, that he has a plan for reducing Paris in three minutes by the clock. Comtois is of such evident good faith, that Paturot tries to undeceive him,telling him the Emperor is dead. Thereupon the giant smiles contemptuously, and, when Jérome persists, he looks upon him with suspicion. Then he condescends to give the reason of his credulity. His father had served in the dragoons of the Empress, and had stood sentry a hundred times at Napoleon's door, had followed him to the wars, had never left him, in short. "Comtois,"—these had been his last words to his son—"when they tell you the Emperor is dead, answer at once 'It is a lie of the enemy. The English spread the report; it is their interest to do so.' Yes, my son, though you be alone and unsupported, always maintain he isnotdead, and add that he will come back. In the court-yard of Fontainebleau he promised us he would, and he has never broken his promise."—"You understand, general," concluded Comtois to Oscar; "after that, there is not a word to be said. What can you have stronger than that?—a dragoon of the Empress, a mustache that grew gray in the service of the Emperor. It is authentic, at any rate." In the midst of this curious conversation, a private cab drives up to the door, and a gentleman sends in for Comtois, who presently returns, his face beaming with joy. The Emperor has inquired after him—after him, Comtois, native of Baume-les-Dames, son of a dragoon of the Empress! Who would not fight for such a man? Comtois is ready to empty his veins in his service. In a few days the coronation will take place—the Pope will come to Rheims on purpose—the Emperor has one thousand five hundred millions in his pocket to distribute to the needy, and has decided there shall be no more poor. All opposition will be in vain. Comtois is well assured England will scatter gold in Paris to raise opponents to Napoleon; but what then?—the imperialists are not without means of stimulating the people. And thereupon Comtois, after assuring himself there are no eavesdroppers, draws from under his blouse—a magnificent stuffed eagle. With this on the top of a flagstaff, and his father's uniform on his back, Comtois feels himself invincible. Paturot is unfeeling enough to inquire if he proposes exhibiting it for money. Comtois indignantly repudiates the idea. "It is our banner, sir," he says; "our banner for the great day. By it the sons of the Empire will be recognised. See the noble bird, the glorious fowl! I have already cut a pole to stick it upon. As to the tricolor flag, every body has got that. One government hands it over to another. But the eagle! the eagle is not so easily tamed; it has but one master, and that is the Emperor. The Emperor is come back, it is the eagle's turn!"
And Comtois departed, ready to brave any odds on behalf of his Emperor, and under shadow of the eagle's wing. "We have seen," says M. Reybaud, "how he understood the plot in which he was associated. This illusion was common at the time. More than one Parisian artisan, more than one villager of western France, believed he deposited in the electoral urn a vote in favour of the Emperor. The name preserved all itsprestige, but did not delegate it. The inheritance was too heavy to support. It resembled the iron crown; none might touch it with impunity. There was much obscurity and misconception in what then occurred; more than one appeal was made to ignorance and credulity. The stuffed eagle had found a victim, the living eagle made others. Ambition played its part, and more than one personage beheld, in the perspective of the plot, visions of grand-crosses and senatorships."
We find M. Reybaud too veracious, in other parts of the book, to cast a doubt on his assertion that, in the year 1848, and in Paris, after Napoleon's coffin has been opened at Courbevoie, and his corpse deposited in the church of the Invalids, there still are to be found men sufficiently stupid and credulous to believe the Emperor alive, and to await his return. In the provinces, and especially in those most remote from the capital, we know, from actual observation, that within a very few years the Emperor's existence was an article of faith with thousands, who, like Comtois, looked upon the report of his death as a mere invention of the enemy. Although the imperial veterans are now scarcely more plentiful in France than the Peninsularheroes in this country, there still remain a sprinkling, who infect their children and grandchildren with their own superstitious fancies regarding Napoleon. The lower classes of provincial Frenchmen are not remarkable for intelligence, and they receive the traditions of thevieux de l'Empire, collected under the summer-porch, and in the winter-night's gossip, with a sort of semi-credence which a trifling corroborative circumstance ripens into implicit belief. The mutilated, red-ribboned relic of the Grande Armée, who tells, from beneath the shadow of the domestic vine, or from the bench at theaubergedoor, such thrilling tales of past campaigns, of Austerlitz' glory and Moscow's snows, shakes his gray head doubtingly when he hears it said that Napoleon has perished, a captive and in solitude, on a rock of the distant ocean. The gesture is not lost on the gaping bumpkins, who greedily devour the old man's reminiscences. They muse on the matter whilst tracing the next morning's furrow, or perhaps, taken next day by the greedy conscription, they meet, at the regiment, some ancient corporal who confirms the impression they have received. The traditions of the barrack-room are all imperial; how should they be otherwise? Were not those the days when every recruit went to battle with a marshal's baton in his havre-sack,—when no rank, honours, or riches were beyond the grasp of the daring and fortunate soldier? The six years' service expires; the soldier returns to his plough—an election arrives, the name of Napoleon is every where placarded—interested persons tell the newly-fledged voter, as the gentleman in the cab told Comtois, that thePetit Tonduhas returned to France. Thesoldat-laboureur, whose prejudices are much strengthened, and his intelligence but little brightened, by his term of military service, doubts, hopes, is bewildered, and finally, in the uncertainty, votes for a stuffed bird instead of a genuine eagle.
We have dwelt so long upon Jérome Paturot that we can afford but a few lines to his brother in hosiery. Poor Monsieur Bonardin! Never, since humanity first took to stocking-wearing, was a vender of that useful article more scurvily treated than he was by the French republic of 1848. The 25th of February beheld him a prosperous man and an ardent republican,—"a republican of the morrow," certainly, but no worse for that; four months of liberty and fraternity brought him to ruin and suicide. At first, all his anticipations are rose-coloured. Increase of trade, an unlimited demand for hosiery, must be the consequences of the new order of things. He is fully persuaded great days are coming for the renowned establishment at the sign of the Spinning Monkey. The day after the revolution he opens his shop as usual, but only to be bullied by anouvrierwho steps in to buy a red cap, finds none but white, curses Bonardin for a Carlist, and carries off his national guardsman's musket. Uproar recommences in the street; the shop is shut, and continues so for some days. The end of the month arrives; there are payments to be made, and M. Bonardin sends Criquet to the bank with bills for discount—first-rate paper at short date. Criquet brings them back; the best signatures no longer find cash. M. Bonardin is in all the agonies of a punctual paymaster who sees a chance of his signature's dishonour, when suddenly he is summoned to his duty as national guard. On his return, after a sleepless night and a fagging day, he has scarcely got amongst the blankets, when he is roused by voices in the street calling out, in a measured chant, for lamps at his windows.
M. Bonardin, awaking in alarm, and jumping out of bed—
What is that? (Cries in the street, 'Des lampions! des lampions!') Good! here they are again with their infernal lamps! Impossible to sleep under this republic!
Voices of boys in the street.—Hallo! first floor! Spinning Monkey! Lamps! lamps!
M. Bonardin.—What a nuisance! (calling out)—Babet! Babet!
The boys shouting,—Lamps or candles!... break the ugly monkey's windows, if he does not light up directly!
M. Bonardin.—Lord bless me!... Babet! Babet!...
Babet, (running in,)—What is it, sir?
M. Bonardin.—Don't you hear them? Cut a candle in eight pieces directly. Not a minute to lose!
The boys.—It's aCarlisse, (Carlist.) Hallo, there! lamps or candles!
M. Bonardin, (in his nightgown, opening the window.)—Directly, citizens, directly! A minute's patience!
The boys.—Ah! there's the old monkey himself! Bravo! bravo!
'D'un sang impur engraissons nos sillons!'
M. Bonardin, (flourishing his nightcap.)—Yes, yes, my friends,d'un sang impur!...Certainly, by all means;Vive la République!
The boys.—Vive la République!Down with theCarlisses! (Babet enters with candle-ends; M. Bonardin retreats behind his bed-curtains.) Ah! there's the monkey's wife lighting up at last. Bravo! bravo!Vive la République!The monkey's wife not bad-looking in her night-dress!
Babet, (shutting the window.)—Do you hear, sir, those ragamuffins call me your wife?
M. Bonardin.—Well! are you not flattered?
Babet.—Yes, indeed, the monkey's wife! It's flattering! They take me for an ape, then?
M. Bonardin.—If they will only let me sleep at last. Midnight already.
Babet.—Pray, sir, is this to last long? This is our sixth illumination. A whole packet of fives gone already!
M. Bonardin.—No, no, Babet—it is only the first moment. Recollect, the republic is but ten days old.... A single decade, no more.
Babet.—A proper business it has been, your decade! Alarms at every hour of the day and night; the shop shut three-quarters of the time, and no buyers when it is open! A nice decade! And then the bank, that refuses your paper; and then your bills, which you can't pay; and then ...
M. Bonardin.—Let me sleep, my poor Babet.... All that is very true; but what matter? We have got the republic; and you know as well as I do—THERE ARE NO ROSES WITHOUT THORNS."
With this trite saying, the epigraph of the book, Bonardin, a bit of a philosopher in his way, consoles himself, at the close of each disastrous decade, for the annoyances and calamities he has experienced in its course. These are countless, and of every kind. Now it is a polite note from the tax-gatherer, requesting him to pay down, in advance, the whole of the year's taxes, including an extraordinary contribution just decreed by government. Then Criquet, who has imbibed communist principles, insists on sharing his master's profits, and M. Bonardin is afraid to refuse. Criquet, however, is glad to fall back upon his wages, on finding that, instead of profit, the shop leaves a heavy loss. Next comes a scamp of a nephew, emancipated from Clichy by the abolition of imprisonment for debt, who gets his uncle into various scrapes; and a drunken godson, one Pacot, a soldier, who knocks his sponsor under the table, on pretence of his being reactionary. Bonardin goes to Rouen to assist at a wedding, and the railway takes him into a cross-fire, the town being in full revolution. Rent-day arrives, and he sets out as usual with receipts and a canvass-bag to collect the quarter's rent from the occupants of the five upper stories of his house; but nobody pays. The workman in the attics takes the receipt and refuses the money, threatening to hang out the black flag if his landlord insists. One tenant feigns madness—another declares himself ruined—a third denies himself. Poor Bonardin returns home with a heavy heart and an empty bag. In short, his misfortunes are innumerable. He is mixed up in revolts against his will, and without his knowledge; is sent to prison, thumped with musket-buts, hidden in a cask, robbed in the national workshop. Finally, at the end of the thirteenth decade, he stands upon the bridge leading to the National Assembly, his face partly concealed by a handkerchief, singing republican songs and asking alms. None give them. "I am a proprietor, my poor man," says one; "I can give you nothing." "Impossible, my good fellow," says the next; "I am a manufacturer." "No change," says a third; "I am a shopkeeper, and I sell nothing." "Sorry for you, myfriend," replies another, "but I am an artist. In these times, that is as much as to tell you I have not a sou in the world." "Alas!" exclaims a fifth, "I would relieve you with pleasure, but I am a pooremployé, and the revolution has struck off a quarter of my salary." "What ill luck!" cries Bonardin; "the revolution has ruined every body, it seems. But this is about the time when the representatives of the people repair to the National Assembly. They are generous, the worthy representatives. The millions they daily vote away sufficiently prove it. Courage! people who spend so many millions will perhaps give me a few coppers." He is mistaken; the deputies pass, but none give him any thing; whereupon he concludes they have not yet received their five-and-twenty francs. And as the republic will not give him bread, he resolves to seek water in the river, climbs the parapet, and throws himself into the Seine—thus tragically terminating the volume, which, up to that point, is a farce, both broad and long, crammed with jokes and double-entendres of various merit, but all exhibiting, in a light as unfavourable as it is true, the disastrous effects of the revolution upon the trade and prosperity of Paris.
We hoped to have included in this review the fourth volume ofJérome Paturot, but it has not yet reached us, only a portion of it being published. The work comes out in parts, and it is said the fourth volume will be the last of the series. In that case, it will probably close with the June revolt. If M. Reybaud likes, and dares, he may find in subsequent events abundant food for his satirical chronicle. Perhaps he will think fit to wait Cavaignac's exit before criticising his performance. There are numerous points in the brief history of the republic upon which he has not yet touched. We hope yet to accompany Jérome to the cell of an imprisoned journalist, to the court-martials upon the June insurgents, to debates in the Assembly, and to consultations in the cabinet. A retrospective flight to the days of the Convention, and an incidental inquiry into the antecedents of M. Cavaignac the father, of whose exploits the son has expressed himself so proud, were not without interest. But the subject we are especially curious to see M. Reybaud take up, is that of French journalism in 1848. He might fill a most amusing volume with an elucidation of its mysteries and rivalries; and we cannot believe, after reading the bold judgments and revelations contained in the three published volumes ofJérome, that he would be deterred from the task by apprehension of editorial wrath, whether expressed in the field or in the feuilleton, by a challenge or a criticism.
Prophecies and miracles, we are told, have long since ceased upon the earth, as permitted only, by Divine goodness, to those ages when faith was not firmly established, and revelation needed the active and visible interference of Divine influence to make its way into the heart of obstinate and denying man. This is a doctrine which, in these present times of reason, we are naturally inclined to accept. But yet there are circumstances, occurring even in our day, which sometimes surprise the imagination, and even startle that reason which is so ready to assert its supremacy. It is thus that we have regarded with much curiosity, more wonder, and an impression which it is difficult to drive away from our minds, certain strange documents relative to the most important events of modern history, which, if their authenticity be accepted, are among the most striking revelations emanating from a prophetic spirit. They appear before us avowed prophecies, coming from seemingly well-authenticated sources, and backed by such assurances in the genuineness of their antiquity, from credible mouths, as takes off from them that paulo-post-future sort of suspicion, that inevitably attaches itself to predictions, which make their appearance to the world after fulfilment. In laying them before our readers, we are able to offer some little proof, as far as it goes, in support of their authenticity; and we still call to them the attention of those who may nevertheless refuse their credence, as highly interesting documents of a strange character, relating to past, present, and even future political events. As they do, in truth, refer also to a future still to be accomplished, as well as to the present, our readers, it is to be hoped, may be able to judge for themselves how far the predictions as to the future will bear out those which now already relate to the past, and to what, if such an expression may be pardoned, might be called the present just gone by.
Two of these revelations bear the character of direct and avowed prophecies, givenas suchby holy men, and are imbued throughout with that mystic spirit, which, however incomprehensible as regards the future, becomes clear to an extraordinary degree of distinctness when applied to the test of the past: they wear, in fact, the strange air of predictions never intended to be comprehended until after their fulfilment; as if, even although the inspired soul of certain individual men had been permitted to raise itself, in its ecstasy, from the earth into those unknown realms where past and future are confounded in eternity, and shake off for the time the mortal trammels of our limited understanding, but retain still afterwards the consciousness and the power to reveal what there it saw; yet, by some mysterious dispensation, the revelations should not be allowed to be expounded in the clearness of their truth, so as to be comprehensible to the intellects of the uninspired and undeserving herd. Why, then, should the future be revealed, it might be asked, if the revelation should serve nothing to mankind? With such deep and awful mysteries we have not to deal: we cannot answer: we are of the blind who cannot lead the blind. At all events, if these documents be forgeries—mere devices fabricated after facts—and that they cannot be soentirely, will be seen hereafter—certainly a degree of genius that is almost incomprehensible presided over their fabrication, with this strange stamp of vague oracular language, which is only comprehensible in its after-application.
Such are two of these prophetic writings. As they are supposed to proceed from the mouths of religious men, renowned for the sanctity of their lives, they naturally refer more to the condition of the Christian church, and to the fate of the "faithful," than immediately to political events; but yet so closely is the destiny of the faithful of the Christian world mixed up inevitably with the destiny of men and countries in general, that the political events of our day are there set down in prediction, with all the minuteness which the vague and mystic language of propheticrevelation, dimly depicting what even the inspired eye can only dimly trace in cloudy vision, "through a glass darkly," is able to bestow upon detail. The third revelation assumes to be no more than an interpretation of the prophetical book of the New Testament, and repudiates all supposition of aiming at any spirit of prophecy in itself; a portion, however, of this interpretation of a part of Scripture so obscure as the book of the Revelation, is so remarkable in its application to present events, as to wear the very air of prophecy that its interpreter repudiates.
The longer and more important of the two prophecies, which have both appeared in France, and refer chiefly to events immediately connected with French history, is one popularly designated as the "Prophecy of Orval:" it has been already translated into English, and published,[12]with a preface, an introduction, and explanatory notes, chiefly referring to the authenticity of the document, and to its possession in the hands of a variety of credible and respectable persons during the whole of the present century, and some of the later years of the last. The little pamphlet has been got up with much intelligence, and apparently with a strictly conscientious spirit. We cannot here follow the editor through all the details he lays before us, to prove that the prophecy has been copied from a book printed at Luxembourg in the year 1544, and recopied, by gentlemen of standing and respectability, from copies already made, as early as the year 1792—or through all the evidence adduced, some years ago, in such respectable religious French papers as theInvariable, and thePropagateur de la Foi, accompanied by notes from the editor himself, with regard to his own personal experience, and the testimony he has received from personages worthy of the highest credit, known to himself. It may be said, however, that he communicates extracts of letters and other authorities, which, could they be forgeries, would assuredly be some of the most ingenious of the kind, even if they had any great end or aim in their fabrication; and it ought to be added, that a great part of this testimony is compiled from abrochurecalledThe Oracle for 1840, and published by a certain Henry Dujardin in Paris, in the month of March 1840, consequently anterior, at all events, to the remarkable circumstances of the present day. On these matters we must refer our readers to the interesting little pamphlet itself. The authority upon which rests the fact that the prophecy, generally known under the title of "Les Prévisions d'Orval," and entitled "Certain Previsions revealed by God to a Solitary, for the Consolation of the Children of God," was actually printed at Luxembourg in the year 1544, seems every way as conclusive as possible in such matters of ancient lore; and the writer of this present paper has only to add that he himself has seen in Paris the whole prophecy, as far as it is still in existence, printed in a newspaper of the year 1839, (hebelieves, as far as his memory reaches, in theJournal des Villes et des Campagnes), and consequently, to his own knowledge, published to the world previously, at least, to the events of the present year; that an old English lady, upon whose faith he can implicitly rely, positively declared to him that she had it in her hands as early as the year 1802, and thus even before the crowning of Napoleon as Emperor; and that its reappearance, since the breaking out of the revolution of this year, excited so much sensation in the French capital, that measures were taken by the republican government of the day to establish a sort ofsurveillanceover persons known to possess and propagate the prediction—a fact also mentioned by the editor of the English pamphlet—as conspirators against the stability of the republic. With these premises, we proceed to do no more than lay before our readers the prophecy in question, claiming for the notice that follows such credence as every man's conviction or scepticism, imagination or cooler reason, may choose to bestow.
The Abbey of Orval, from which the prediction has taken its title, was, it appears, a religious institution, situated in the diocese of Treves, onthe frontiers of Luxembourg; and it is said that the abbot and the monks, when they fled from their convent, during the siege of Luxembourg by the French revolutionary army, to the "refuge" in the town, conveying a part of their archives as well as their sacred vessels with them, first communicated theprintedcopy of thePrevisions of a Solitaryof 1544 to Marshal Bender, who commanded the army, and other French gentlemen, by whom copies were then taken as a matter of curiosity, and put in circulation. Tradition at that time attributed the prediction to a monk of the name of Philip Olivarius, although the exact period of the existence of the "Solitary" does not appear to have been well known. What at present remains, or is supposed to remain, commences only with the history of Napoleon Buonaparte, although the "Oracle" of Henri Dujardin speaks of the prediction relative to the death of Louis XVI. as having excited considerable sensation among the emigrant circles of that time; and the circumstance of the absence of any events anterior to the prophecy, as it stands at present, is accounted for by a remark made in thePropagateur de la Foi, that, when it was discovered, at the conclusion of the last century, the copyists generally neglected to transcribe what related to the past, and contented themselves only with that portion, the accomplishment of which was still to come.
The prophecy, as will be seen, astoundingly and suspiciously minute in its details; but yet, when the predictions as to the future are considered—to our eyes at present so vague and mysterious, and still perhaps in their fulfilment, if so it should prove, as exact in detail,—it may well be imagined that the portions which now refer to the past, may in their day have appeared equally mysterious and vague. It runs as follows, as it now stands:—
"At that time a young man, come from beyond the sea into the country of Celtic Gaul, shows himself strong in counsel. But the mighty to whom he gives umbrage will send him to combat in the land of Captivity. Victory will bring him back. The sons of Brutus will be confounded at his approach, for he will overpower them, and take the name of emperor. Many high and mighty kings will be sorely afraid, for the eagle will carry off many sceptres and crowns. Men on foot and horse, carrying blood-stained eagles, and as numerous as gnats in the air, will run with him throughout Europe, which will be filled with consternation and carnage; for he will be so powerful, that God shall be thought to combat on his side. The church of God, in great desolation, will be somewhat comforted, for she shall see her temples opened again to her lost sheep, and God praised. But all is over, the moons are passed."
It must be remarked here, that the moons, continually alluded to in the prophecy, may be found, by the calculation of thirteen lunar mouths to a year, to arrive at an extraordinary accuracy of prediction as to the date of the events prophesied: those which have been mentioned above must be considered to refer probably to a period of time alluded to in the portion of the "Previsions" supposed to be lost.
"But all is over; the moons are passed. The old man of Sion cries to God from his afflicted heart; and behold! the mighty one is blinded for his crimes. He leaves the great city with an army so mighty, that none ever was seen to be compared to it. But no warrior will be able to withstand the power of the heavens; and behold! the third part, and again the third part, of his army has perished by the cold of the Almighty. Two lustres have passed since the age of desolation; the widows and the orphans have cried aloud to the Lord, and behold! God is no longer deaf. The mighty, that have been humbled, take courage, and combine to overthrow the man of power. Behold, the ancient blood of centuries is with them, and resumes its place and its abode in the great city; the great man returns humbled to the country beyond the sea from which he came. God alone is great! The eleventh moon has not yet shone, and the bloody scourge of the Lord returns to the great city; the ancient blood quits it. God alone is great! He loves his people, and has blood in abhorrence; the fifth moon has shone upon manywarriors from the east. Gaul is covered with men, and with machines of war; all is finished with the man of the sea. Behold again returned the ancient blood of the Cap! God ordains peace, that His holy name be blessed. Therefore shall great peace reign throughout Celtic Gaul. The white flower is greatly in honour, and the temples of the Lord resound with many holy canticles. But the sons of Brutus view with anger the white flower, and obtain a powerful edict, and God in consequence is angry on account of the elect, and because the holy day is much profaned; nevertheless God will await a return to Him during eighteen times twelve moons. God alone is great! He purifies His people by many tribulations; but an end will also come upon the wicked. At this time a great conspiracy against the white flower moves in the dark, by the designs of an accursed band; and the poor old blood of the Cap leaves the great city, and the sons of Brutus increase mightily. Hark! how the servants of the Lord cry aloud to him! The arrows of the Lord are steeped in His wrath for the hearts of the wicked. Woe to Celtic Gaul! The cock will efface the white flower; and a powerful one will call himself king of the people. There will be a great commotion among men, for the crown will be placed by the hands of workmen who have combated in the great city. God alone is great! The reign of the wicked will wax more powerful; but let them hasten, for behold! the opinions of the men of Celtic Gaul are in collision, and confusion is in all minds."
It must here be again remarked that, as regards the accomplishment of the events which follow immediately in the prophecy, the writer has himself seen this record in a printed form—since the fulfilment, it is true, but in a newspaper published in the year 1839.
"The king of the people will be seen very weak: many of the wicked will be against him; but he wasill-seated; and, behold! God hurls him down." How striking is the expression, "mal assis!" To proceed: "Howl, ye sons of Brutus! Call unto you the beasts that are about to devour you. Great God! what a noise of arms! a full number of moons is not yet completed, and, behold, many warriors are coming!"
This advance of many warriors upon the capital is an event which, according to the prophecy, must be accomplished before a full number of moons is completed, or, it would seem, within the year from the date of the outbreak of the Revolution. These warriors are not said to come from any foreign lands. May they be supposed—in accepting the truth of the prediction—to refer to the march of the national guards of the departments upon Paris, from all parts of France, at the time of the outbreak of June? or do the words remain still to be verified in a more striking manner? The period of the "ten times six moons, and yet again six times ten moons," of which mention is about to be made, is peculiarly vague and uncertain, as are the predictions, as far as time is concerned, of all the events to come. According to the calculation adopted, this period of time would be that of about nine years and a quarter. Is the accomplishment of the awful prediction that follows, to be delayed for such a space of time? An enlightened churchman has conceived that this calculation of moons refers to the past period, during which the church was oppressed, and the anger of the Lord excited in the first French Revolution, when the "measure of wrath was filled." But, then, is the desolation to come to be accomplished also, like "the advance of the many warriors," before "a full number of moons is completed"—i. e., within a year? This is one of the mysterious obscurities already alluded to, which are the attributes of all prophecy, and of which time alone can give a solution—if a solution is to be given. The details relative to the more immediately ensuing events are precise enough: it is only the date of their accomplishment that seems involved in the dimness of insolvable obscurity. Thus runs the denunciation—the prediction of desolation to be poured out like another "vial of wrath" over the doomed city of Paris.
"It is done! The mountain of the Lord hath cried in its affliction unto God. The sons of Judah have criedunto God from the land of the foreigner; and, behold! God is no longer deaf. What fire accompanies His arrows! Ten times six moons, and yet again six times ten moons, have fed His wrath. Woe to the great city! Behold the kings armed by the Lord! But already hath fire levelled thee with the earth. Yet the faithful shall not perish. God hath heard their prayer. The place of crime is purified by fire. The waters of the great stream have rolled on towards the sea all crimsoned with blood. Gaul, as it were dismembered, is about to reunite. God loves peace. Come, young prince, quit the isle of captivity. Listen! from the lion to the white flower! come!"
It may be well understood now why the republican government of France attaches so much importance to the fact of the propagation of this prophecy, which formally predicts the return of the last bud of the white flower, or lily of the Bourbons. Its publication was looked upon as a manœuvre of the Legitimist faction, to prepare the minds of men for the advent of Henri V., and, by exciting men's imaginations, to tend towards the accomplishment of the prediction—with the foreknowledge that hazarded predictions will often help to accomplish themselves by the very natural course of events which they, in themselves, produce. At all events, the promulgators of such a prophecy, which definitively predicted the overthrow of the republic, were to be considered as being among its enemies, and were carefully watched in their movements as such. The writer of the present paper, however, who was in Paris during the period when the "Previsions of Orval" first began to create a sensation, can confidently assert that copies were handed about, even among the silenced Legitimists, as curious and interesting documents only, and without the least pretence of thatarrière pensée, which the government of the republic chose to ascribe to its circulation. The allusion to the "lion," is peculiarly obscure. Belgium and England are the only countries that bear a lion on their arms. A union with a daughter of the dynasty reigning in the former, can scarcely be contemplated, since the young prince alluded to is already married. A strict alliance with one or the other country—or perhaps more especially with England, as more generally typically represented by the lion—might be supposed to bear out the fulfilment of the prediction. The Orval prophecy then goes on to predict the firm establishment of the child of the "white flower" on his throne.
"What is foreseen, that God wills. The ancient blood of centuries will again terminate long struggles. A sole pastor will be seen in Celtic Gaul. The man made powerful by God will be firmly seated. Peace will be established by many wise laws. So sage and prudent will be the offspring of the Cap, that God will be thought to be with him. Thanks to the Father of Mercies, the Holy Sion chants again in her temples to the glory of one Lord Almighty."
The future previsions of the prophecy become necessarily more and more obscure; although those, which more immediately follow, are sufficiently distinct, much as their accomplishment may be a matter of very necessary doubt.
"Many lost sheep come to drink at the living spring. Three kings and princes throw off the mantle of heresy, and open their eyes to the faith of the Lord. At that time two third parts of a great people of the sea will return to the true faith. God is yet blessed during fourteen times six moons, and six times thirteen moons. But God is wearied of bestowing his mercies; and yet, for the faithful's sake, he will prolong peace during ten times twelve moons. God alone is great! The good is passed away. The saints shall suffer. The Man of Sin shall be born of two races. The white flower becomes obscured during ten times six moons, and six times twenty moons. Then it shall disappear to be seen no more. Much evil, and little good, will there be in those days. Many cities shall perish by fire. Israel then returns entirely to Christ the Lord. The accursed and the faithful shall be separated into two distinct portions. But all is over. The third part of Gaul, and again the third part and a half, will be without faith. The same will be among other nations. And behold! six times three moons, andfour times five moons, and there is a general falling off, and the end of time has begun. After a number, not complete, of moons, God will combat in the persons of His two just ones. The Man of Sin shall carry off the victory. But all is over! The mighty God has placed before my comprehension a wall of fire. I can see no more. May He be blessed evermore. Amen."
Thus terminates the reputed prophecy of the Solitary of Orval. The conclusion has been supposed to imply a prediction of the end of the world; and, by the calculation of the number of as many moons as are mentioned, that event would thus take place within a period of fifty years from the present time. But it does not appear absolutely to follow that the "wall of fire" placed before the comprehension of the inspired Solitary, that he should see no more, should be referred to the "end of all things," because he has exclaimed just previously—"But all is over!" This expression he has already used before in a different sense. Any disquisition, however, upon the uncertain fulfilment of a very uncertain prophecy, would be again a discursive ramble, that would lead us much too far out of our beat.
The other French prophecy, to which allusion has been made, professes to be only of a much later date. It is said to have emanated from a Jesuit priest, who died towards the end of the last century at Bordeaux, in the "odour of sanctity," and to have been communicated by him to a novice residing with him in an establishment of the Jesuits at Poitiers, some time previous to the outbreak of the first French Revolution. It is supposed to have been transcribed and preserved by the novice, who afterwards became himself a Jesuit priest, and by him to have been given into the hands of several persons, who still possess it, or who may have in turn given circulation to it. Not much importance was attached to it until the events of the Revolution, which confirmed so many of its predictions, were accomplished; and again, since the events of the present year, it has been called to men's minds. Like the Orval prophecy, its predictions, as regards what is now past, have been wonderfully distinct, and, relative to the events of this present year, no less so. With respect to its existence previously to these latter events, the writer can also give testimony, as in the case of the Orval prophecy, that it was transcribed as far back as the year 1836, from the mouth of thesupérieureof a convent in Lyons, who testified that she had heard it from the novice to whom it was first delivered. The authenticity of its prophetic revelations can thus be proved as far as regards the present day. It bears, in many respects, a great analogy to the Previsions of the Solitary of Orval, and the predictions it delivers coincide in most respects with the latter: but it contains distinct references to other events, of which the Orval prophecy makes no mention. As the revelation also of a holy churchman, prophetically inspired, its contents naturally refer, in a great measure, to the state of the church, or perhaps even to the condition of the order of the Jesuits alone. The whole is necessarily couched in mysterious language in this respect: and it ought, perhaps, to be premised that the "counter-revolution" alluded to refers to the triumph of the priesthood in general, or, as was before said, of the Jesuit order. The portions of this prophecy which have fallen into the writer's hands refer only to the events immediately following the fall of Napoleon; although he has been assured that, in other copies, it goes back to circumstances antecedent to the first Revolution.
"There will then be a reaction," says the portion now before us, "which shall be thought to be the counter-revolution—it will last during some years, so that people shall suppose that peace is really restored: but it will be only a patchwork—an ill-sewn garment. There will be no schism; but still the Church shall not triumph. Then shall come disturbances in France: a name hateful to the country shall be placed upon the throne. It will not be until after that event that the counter-revolution shall take place. It will be done by strangers. But two parties will first be formed in France, who will carry on a war of extermination. Oneparty will be much more numerous than the other, but the weaker shall prevail. Blood will flow in the great towns, and the convulsion shall be such that men might think the last day to be at hand. But the wicked will not prevail, and in this dire catastrophe shall perish of them a great multitude. They will have hoped to have utterly destroyed the Church; but for this they will not have had time, for the fearful crisis shall be of short duration. There will be a movement when it will be supposed that all is lost; but still all shall be saved. The faithful shall not perish; such signs will be given them as shall induce them to fly the city. During this convulsion, which will extend to other lands, and not be for France alone, Paris shall be so utterly destroyed, that when, twenty years afterwards, fathers shall walk with their children, and the children shall ask, 'Why is that desolate spot?' they shall answer, 'My children, here once stood a great city, which God destroyed for its crimes.' After this fearful convulsion, all will return to order, and the counter-revolution shall be made. Then shall the triumph of the Church be such that nothing like it shall be ever seen again, for it will be the last triumph of the Church on earth."
In one respect, at least, this prophesy has already taken a step towards fulfilment. "Two parties shall be formed in France." Does not the struggle between the Moderates and the Red-Republicans still harass the land? "They will carry on a war of extermination." Have they not already commenced it in June in the streets of Paris? "One party will be much more numerous than the other." The Moderate party is well known to have an immense majority throughout the country. "But the weaker shall prevail"—for a time, that is—goes on to say the fearful prediction. That result lies yet in the womb of fate. The probabilities of its fulfilment we shrink from investigating—the more so, as it is a conviction which has always instinctively forced itself upon our minds. In all their previsions on this subject, the two prophesies, as far as they go, perfectly agree. We do not even leave the sceptical the pleasure of finding out that "doctors differ." The collision of parties—the devouring beasts—and the eventual destruction of the "great city" in the struggle—are circumstances foretold in both, with a graphic force which gives them almost the minuteness of details relative to a history of the past. The triumph of the Church, after this great convulsion, is likewise prophesied by both. The Orval previsions, more diffuse as to general history, alone connect this event with the restoration of a Prince of the Lily. On the contrary, however, the prediction of the Jesuit—as yet only occupied with the interests of his Church—now goes on to foretell historical events, of which the Orval prophecy makes no mention. The two do not contradict each other, but each mentions circumstances of which the other does not speak.
"These events shall be known to be at hand," continues the Poitiers prophecy, "by the sign that England shall begin to suffer throes of pain, even as it is known that the summer is nigh when the fig-tree puts forth its leaves. England shall experience a revolution, which will be of sufficient duration to give unhappy France time to breathe. Then it shall be by the assistance of France that England shall be fully restored to peace."
Certainly there appears at present no probability of any accomplishment of this part of the prediction. And, whatever vague faith we may place in our innermost hearts upon the authenticity of these prophecies, we should be very glad to find ourselves, and avow ourselves, and even proclaim ourselves, utter dupes, rather than witness the slightest approach to a fulfilment of the last paragraph of the Jesuit priest's oracular revolutions. He has given us, however, a fair chance of learning the truth of his prediction, or of giving him the lie in his coffin, by an answer, which the tradition preserved by the excellentsupérieureof the convent of the Sacré Cœur at Lyons reports that he made, when asked as to the period of the fulfilment of his prophecies—for he had not, like the Solitary of Orval, been at all precise in his arithmetical calculations of moons, or other methodsof bestowing dates, as we have seen. His answer is said to have been, that those who saw the first French Revolution, and who lived through this crisis, would bless God for having preserved them to be witnesses of the great triumph of His Church. Consequently, the events foretold ought to receive their fulfilment in a period of time within the probable life of a man born before the epoch of 1789; and thus, reckoning the "threescore years and ten" as the utmost limit of man's natural life, before the year 1859. We ourselves, and all our readers, it is to be hoped, have thus the probabilities before us of testing the powers of prophecy of the good old gentleman of Poitiers. And yet, if they are to be verified to the letter as concerns "Old England," we cannot add "May we be there to see."
Beyond these two prophecies, there are others which at the present time abound in France; but as we are unable to offer any evidence whatever as to their authenticity of antiquity, we shall not enter into their details, much less into any disquisition as to their credibility. Most of them predict the utter destruction of Paris by fire, during a convulsion occasioned by insurrection and civil war. The best known are those of Bug de Thilas, a prophet of the Pyrenees in the sixteenth century—a Breton traditionary prediction, which enters into very minute and graphic details relative to the great fire of Paris, and fixes the epoch for this disaster in the nineteenth century; and the far better known and somewhat famousProphétie Lorraine, in verse, in which the same event is foretold. This latter prophecy enters into very minute poetical descriptions of the great catastrophe, and warns the Parisian that he will perish entirely by his own fault. It is more especially curious, inasmuch as a calculation has been made by a good, hearty, and sound believer in such predictions, in which it is shown that, by taking the most striking and important words of the prediction, and reckoning each letter as a number, according to its standing in the alphabet—"a" as 1, "b" as 2, "c" as 3, &c.—the sum total of all the letters, thus reckoned, will amount to eighteen hundred and forty-nine. Of course, also, the prediction made by Lady Hester Stanhope to Lamartine, as recorded by that author in hisVoyage en Orient, and founded by herself on cabalistic and astronomical calculations, found enthusiastic commentators in France, when the poet at last reached the object of his ambition, and became a statesman, by being placed at the summit of power in the revolutionary government.
The other prediction, or rather prophetic deduction from analytical interpretations of the Book of Revelations, to which allusion has been made, is too singular not to take its place also among these supposed "foreshadowings of coming events." At the same time, we do not attempt to rank it in any way in the same category with those strange and doubtful revelations already given. It is based upon a system of reasoning and calculation: a key is given as the real and true one, for the opening of the door of mysteries of acknowledged divine origin. How far this key may be the right one or the wrong, or how far it may be permitted to use it, are, once more, subjects for disquisition into which it is not for us to enter. The contrast between the nature of the revelations of the Roman Catholic ascetics, and of those of the Protestant clergyman, is striking enough to preclude any analogy between them. On the one hand, we have confident predictions; on the other, the cool, calm, searching, calculations of a system of minute reasoning;—on the one, the supposed bestowal of the flash of light; on the other, the careful groping in the mystical darkness of sacred writings, in order with true conscience to find the right way;—on the one, the pictorial, graphic, highly-coloured language of the presumed "divine afflatus;" on the other, the deductions of speculative reasoning;—on the one, the supposed flame coming from above; on the other, the cautious steps planted on the earth;—in short, on the one, supposed inspiration; on the other, evident and acknowledged reason. We do not pretend to class them together; but as they all refer to the same periods of history, they find mention together in this notice.
The Rev. Robert Fleming was the Protestant minister of the Scotchchurches at Rotterdam and Leyden, and afterwards of the Presbyterian church of Lothbury, during the reign of William III.; he was renowned for his piety as well as his learning, and was even much favoured by the reigning monarch. HisDiscourse concerning the Rise and Fall of Papacy, in which the prophetic deductions have been formed, was published in the year 1701. The species of mystical history of the Romish church, which forms the main subject of his work, is sought for entirely, by the author, in the prophetic enunciations of the Book of Revelations; and in order to attach a great interest to his interpretations, and the deductions thence drawn, it is necessary to acceptà priori, as a matter of faith, thosepostulata, which the author considers certain at his very outset, and which he sets down as incontrovertible,—namely, that "the Revelations contain the series of all the remarkable events and changes of the state of the Christian church to the end of the world;" that "The mystical Babylondothtypify Rome in an anti-Christian church state;" that "The seven heads of the beastareindubitably the seven forms of government that obtained successively among the Romans;" and that, consequently, "The grand apocalyptical question answers the great antichrist," which is thus assumed to be Papal Rome. Once more, it is not our present purpose to enter into any theological discussions: we do no more than place before our readers the curious and interesting deduction of a divine, celebrated for his piety, his learning, and his sacred research. The key with which Fleming proceeds to open the mysteries of what he calls "the dark apocalyptical times and periods," is certainly of singularly ingenious construction. He commences by entering into a proof that the different periods mentioned, of 1260 days, of forty-two months, and of "a time, times, and a half," are absolutely synchronical, and refer exactly to the same period of time, being meant to describe the duration of the anti-Christian kingdom; and that each day must be taken to mean prophetically a year, or Julian year of that age. By a similarly ingenious calculation, relative to the dates and times of days, he ascribes the period, as regards the church, to the so-called rotations of the all-enlightening sun; and as refers to the Beast, to the rotations of the unstable moon. Upon these calculations he goes on, with singularly marvellous ability, and an infinite patience of minute reckoning, to comment upon the apocalyptic prophecies. He traces thus the regular series of the prophecy, in the opening of the seven seals, which, in his application of historical events, he refers to the condition of the Christian church during the Roman empire;—of the seven trumpets, as bearing relation to the gradual growth and increase of the anti-Christian enemies of the church;—and, lastly, of the seven vials, as plagues and judgments poured out upon that Babylon, which he assumes to be "Rome Papal;" and the vials, more especially, he argues upon as types of the struggles between the Roman and the Reformed parties, each vial typifying an event, or conclusion of some new periodical attack of the former upon the latter. It is not necessary to follow the ingenious and indefatigable commentator through all his explanations of the other vials; we only refer to his deductions as bearing upon "Prophecies for the Present." Our business lies chiefly with his interpretation of the fifth vial, inasmuch as, by his system of calculation, he predicts the fulfilment of this vial for a period, which, by a singular coincidence at least, he fixes between the two dates of 1794 and 1848. It is the express mention of this latter year which naturally attracts the attention as an extraordinary coincidence, at a moment when, in that year, so many convulsions, and so many events important in the history of the world, have taken place. There is no precise prophetic deductions, however, attached by the interpreter to this latterdatum, except that he fixes it as the period of the fall, or at least of the tottering and probable decline, of the Papal power; and, in the present wavering condition of the temporal power of the sovereign pontiff, the deduction has, at least, a singular bearing upon the events of the latter year specified. It was at the period of the former year, however, that theinterpretations of Fleming, made at a time when France was in the zenith of her power, and there seemed no probability whatever of their justice, excited at first a great sensation; probably at the time of their delivery they were looked upon merely as matters of interesting and patient analysis. In commenting upon the fourth vial of the Revelations, which he mentions as likely to expire about the year 1794, he says—"the pouring out of this vial on the sun must denote the humiliation of some eminent potentates, whose influence and countenance cherish and support the Papal cause. And these, therefore, may be principally understood of the houses of Austria and Bourbon." In continuing to give his opinion concerning the events connected with this vial, and much posterior to the time in which he lived, we have the following striking expressions also, which, even in their serious importance, are not without their quaint humour:—"Perhaps the French monarchy may begin to be considerably humbled about that time; for whereas the French king takes the sun for his emblem, and this for his motto—'Nec plurìbus impar,' he may at length, or rather his successors, and the monarchy itself, (at least before the year 1794,) be forced to acknowledge that (in respect to neighbouring potentates) he is evensingulis impar." The extraordinary coincidence between these intimations and the date fixed by the interpreter, when the first French Revolution took place, could not fail to strike the minds of those who were acquainted with his work. Accordingly, theDiscoursewas republished in 1792, and was read and commented upon with avidity; and now that, in the year he named as 1848, another of his prophetic intimations came to be more or less exemplified, and another coincidence was destined to strike the minds of men, after the sagacious and learned interpreter had been dead nearly a century and a half, the whole discourse has been again republished in a variety of forms, and very widely circulated.
It has been "in fear and trembling" that we have ventured to approach any subject of so sacred a character, inasmuch as it refers to undeniable divine revelations, and bears upon one of the books of the Holy Scriptures: the matter, however, was so intimately connected with our present subject, that it could not be well avoided. Upon the absolute acceptance of Fleming's interpretations, and upon his assumption,à priori, that the "scarlet woman of Babylon" and the anti-Christ do verily typify the Papal power, we must needs be still more cautious of entering into any argument: it is not for us to reason upon the "how, when, and where" of the anti-Christian "denying spirit."
As connected with "Prophecies for the Present," the writer may yet add one other, which was known to him in Germany many years ago. The latter part of it runs as follows:—"I would not be a king in 1848. I would not be a soldier in 1849. I would not be a gravedigger in 1850." There was an awful solemnity in these last words, that always struck fearfully upon the imagination. "I would be any thing you will in 1851." Again, also, there is a vague ambiguous sense in this latter expression, that gives a shudder to the whole frame. "What you will!" Does the term refer to future hope in better days, or is it the recklessness of despair? There were, attached to this prophecy, other remarks respecting the preceding years: they referred to the corn-blade and the vine-plant; but they have now passed too much out of the writer's memory to be exactly recorded.
Before we quit the subject of the "Prophecies for the Present," it may be as well to allude to a comparison of the coincidences between the events of the revolution of July and that of the present year, which has been ingeniously compiled by a certain M. Langlois. The analogy between the circumstances of these different epochs forms a curious page in modern history, and is not without its peculiar interest; and also, as far as the events of the earlier epoch were singularly prophetic of those of the latter, these striking coincidences may almost be said to belong to the predictions of the day.
In the elder branch of the Bourbons, the Duke de Berri, the son of Charles X., espoused a foreign princess, andhad by her a son, who was regarded as the heir to the throne: in the younger, the Duke of Orleans, the son of Louis Philippe I., likewise espoused a foreign princess, and had by her a son, likewise regarded as the eventual heir of the dynasty. The father of the Duke de Bordeaux was assassinated on the13thof February 1820; the father of the Count of Paris died by an accident on the13thof July 1842. In both the years preceding the fall of either monarch, the price of provisions was at an excessive height, the want was great, and the cold such that the Seine was frozen over—a circumstance which did not occur between the winters of 1829 and 1847. In both instances, the anti-liberal tendencies of the heads of the state, after most inviting promises, called forth from their best friends remonstrances upon the course they were pursuing, and warnings of an approaching crisis, which in both instances were rejected. In both instances, the last speech of the crown to the parliament assembled, contained words concerning the "culpable manœuvres," or "blind inimical passions," of the Opposition which created the discontent, and called forth the protest of several deputies, and the resolution to hold the famous banquet. The capture of the Dey of Algiers, and that of Abd-el-Kader, which immediately preceded each catastrophe, were both in vain considered as triumphs by the ministry of the day. The ordinances of July suspended the liberty of the press; an ordinance in February prohibited the banquet. In both cases these ordinances caused a commotion in the capital, and a species of presentiment of revolution on the Monday evening; on the following day the revolt broke out, and lasted during three days, commencing on the Tuesday, and terminating on the Thursday; and the power fell into the hands of the insurgents. The gendarmerie in the one case, the municipal guard—another name for the same corps—in the other, offered the chief defence of royalty, were overcome, and finally disbanded. Charles X. fell from his throne at the age of seventy-four, Louis Philippe at the same age; the one in July, the month in which the Duke of Orleans died—the other in February, the month in which the Duke de Berri was assassinated. Each monarch abdicated in favour of his grandson; each was met by the fatal cry, "Il est trop tard." In each case a provisional government was established, and the royal family was obliged to quit the French territory; both the monarchs sought a refuge in England. Here, however, the "coincidences" offer a striking dissimilitude. The one monarch was accompanied, in his departure, by his guards and numbers of faithful servitors—the other fled poor, wretched, and in disguise, abandoned by those who had called themselves his friends: the one shed tears on landing in the country of exile—the other hailed it with joy. In both cases, the ministers of the fallen king were impeached. In even smaller circumstances, other coincidences have been recorded. During the combats of both revolutions, the temperature was excessively warm for the season of the year—a circumstance not wholly without its weight, if the well-known barometric nature of the Parisian temperament be considered; and a few days after, in both years, an extraordinarily terrific tempest burst over the capital, obscured it for many hours in darkness, and swept down the new flag placed aloft upon the column of the Place Vendôme.
Coincidences, predictions, revelations—all may, perhaps, be looked upon, by the sceptically reasoning mind of plain matter-of-fact, with scorn. To such, then, they are here only given as curious matters of historical interest. At the same time, in the uncertainty as to the issue of the convulsions under the throes of which Europe is at present writhing, the troubled mind may surely attach itself to the obscure revelations of such strange announcements, and endeavour clearly to see its way through their dimness, without too much deserving the stigma usually attached to superstitious credulity.