change had taken place in Bonaparte's views or feelings in matters of
government, but, being convinced that circumstances had changed, he had
made up his mind to conform to them. He says, and we cannot doubt it,
"that he listened to Napoleon with the deepest interest, that there was a
breadth and grandeur of manner as be spoke, and a calm serenity seated on
a brow covered with immortal laurels."

Whilst believing the utter incompatibility of Napoleon and constitutional
government we cannot in fairness omit mentioning that the causes which
repelled him from the altar and sanctuary of freedom were strong: the
real lovers of a rational and feasible liberty--the constitutional
monarchy men were few--the mad ultra-Liberals, the Jacobins, the refuse
of one revolution and the provokers of another, were numerous, active,
loud, and in pursuing different ends these two parties, the respectable
and the disreputable, the good and the bad, got mixed and confused with
one another.

On the 14th of May, when the 'federes' were marshalled in processional
order and treated with what was called a solemn festival, as they moved
along the boulevards to the Court of the Tuileries, they coupled the name
of Napoleon with Jacobin curses and revolutionary songs. The airs and
the words that had made Paris tremble to her very centre during the Reign
of Terror--the "Marseillaise," the "Carmagnole," the "Jour du depart,"
the execrable ditty, the burden of which is, "And with the entrails of
the last of the priests let us strangle the last of the kings," were all
roared out in fearful chorus by a drunken, filthy, and furious mob. Many
a day had elapsed since they had dared to sing these blasphemous and
antisocial songs in public. Napoleon himself as soon as he had power
enough suppressed them, and he was as proud of this feat and his triumph
over the dregs of the Jacobins as he was of any of his victories; and in