ious attack upon his great enemy; if his epigrams were
more covert, they were no less bitter; if he was beaten a dozen times
before a jury, he had eighty or ninety victories to show in the same
field of battle, and every victory and every defeat brought him new
sympathy. Every one who was at Paris a few years since must recollect
the famous "poire" which was chalked upon all the walls of the city,
and which bore so ludicrous a resemblance to Louis Philippe. The poire
became an object of prosecution, and M. Philipon appeared before a
jury to answer for the crime of inciting to contempt against the King's
person, by giving such a ludicrous version of his face. Philipon, for
defence, produced a sheet of paper, and drew a poire, a real large
Burgundy pear: in the lower parts round and capacious, narrower near
the stalk, and crowned with two or three careless leaves. "There was no
treason in THAT," he said to the jury; "could any one object to such a
harmless botanical representation?" Then he drew a second pear, exactly
like the former, except that one or two lines were scrawled in the midst
of it, which bore somehow a ludicrous resemblance to the eyes, nose, and
mouth of a celebrated personage; and, lastly, he drew the exact portrait
of Louis Philippe; the well-known toupet, the ample whiskers and jowl
were there, neither extenuated nor set down in malice. "Can I help it,
gentlemen of the jury, then," said he, "if his Majesty's face is like a
pear? Say yourselves, respectable citizens, is it, or is it not, like
a pear?" Such eloquence could not fail of its effect; the artist was
acquitted, and La poire is immortal.

At last came the famous September laws: the freedom of the Press,
which, from August, 1830, was to be "desormais une verite," was calmly
strangled by the Monarch who had gained his crown for his supposed
championship of it; by his Ministers, some of whom had been stout
Republicans on paper but a few years before; and by the Chamber, which,
such is the blessed constitution of French elections, will generally
vote, unvote, revote in any way the Government wishes. With a wondrous
union, and happy forgetfulness of principle, monarch, ministers, and
deputies issued the restriction laws; the Press was sent to prison; as
for the poor dear Caricature, it was fairly murdered. No more political
satires appear now, and "through the eye, correct the heart;" no more
poires ripen on the walls of the metropolis; Philipon's pol