part of the poet. We always knew who
was meant when a sentence was prefaced with "that rascal" or "that
scoundrel,"--such were the epithets substituted for the name of Louis
Napoleon. Believing the third Napoleon to be the worst enemy of his
foster-mother, Italy, as well as of France, Landor bestowed upon him
less love, if possible, than the majority of Englishmen. Having been
personally acquainted with the Emperor when he lived in England as an
exile, Landor, unlike many of Napoleon's enemies, acknowledged the
superiority of his intellect. "I used to see a great deal of the Prince
when he was in London. I met him very frequently of an evening at Lady
Blessington's, and had many conversations with him, as he always sought
me and made himself particularly civil. He was a very clever man, well
informed on most subjects. The fops used to laugh at him, and call him a
bore. A coxcombical young lord came up to me one evening after the
Prince had taken his leave, and said, 'Mr. Landor, how _can_ you talk to
that fool, Prince Napoleon?' To which I replied, 'My Lord, it takes a
fool to find out that he is not a wise man!' His Lordship retired
somewhat discomfited," added Landor with a laugh, "The Prince presented
me with his work on Artillery, and invited me to his house. He had a
very handsome establishment, and was not at all the poor man he is so
often said to have been." Of this book Landor writes in an article to
the "Quarterly Review" (I think): "If it is any honor, it has been
conferred on me to have received from Napoleon's heir the literary work
he composed in prison, well knowing, as he did, and expressing his
regret for, my sentiments on his uncle. The explosion of the first
cannon against Rome threw us apart forever." I shall not soon forget
Landor's lively narration of Napoleon's escape from the prison at Ham,
given in the same language in which it was told to him by the Prince. I
would feign repeat it here, were it not that an account of this
wonderful escape found its way into print some years ago. _Apropos_ of
Napoleon, an old friend of Landor's told me that, while in London, the
Prince was in the habit of calling upon him after dinner. He would sip
_cafe noir_, smoke a cigar, ply his host with every conceivable
question, but otherwise maintain a dignified reticence. It seems then
that Louis Napoleon is indebted to nature, as well as to art, for his
masterly ability in keeping his own counsel.

Among other person