dom of
the press, and to reintroduce the _autos da fe_ of the olden time.

France had been treated as a child in 1815, and was now determined to
assert its manhood; it resolved to break entirely with the past, and
with its own strength to build up a future for itself.

The lilies of the Bourbons were to bloom no more; these last years of
fanatical Jesuit tyranny had deprived them of life, and France tore the
faded lily from her bosom in order to replace it with a young and
vigorous plant. The throne of the Bourbons was overthrown, but the
people, shuddering at the recollection of the sanguinary republic,
selected a king in preference. It stretched out its hand after him it
held dearest; after him who in the past few years had succeeded in
winning the sympathy of France. It selected the Duke of Orleans, the son
of Philippe Egalite, for its king.

Louis Philippe, the enthusiastic republican of 1790, who at that time
had caused the three words "_Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite_" and the
inscription "_Vive la Republique,"_ to be burnt on his arm, in order to
prove his republicanism; the proscribed Louis Philippe, who had wandered
through Europe a fugitive, earning his bread by teaching writing and
languages--the same Louis Philippe now became King of France.

The people called him to the throne; they tore the white flag from the
roof of the Tuileries, but they knew no other or better one with which
to replace it than the _tricolore_ of the empire.

Under the shadow of this _tricolore_ Louis Philippe mounted the throne,
and the people--to whom the three colors recalled the glorious era of
the empire--the people shouted with delight, and in order to indulge
their sympathies they demanded for France--not the son of Napoleon, not
Napoleon II.--but the ashes of Napoleon, and the emperor's statue on the
Palace Vendome. Louis Philippe accorded them both, but with these
concessions he thought he had done enough. He had accepted the
_tricolore_ of the empire; he had promised that the emperor should watch
over Paris from the summit of the Vendome monument, and to cause his
ashes to be brought to Paris--these were sufficient proofs of love.

They might be accorded the dead Napoleon without danger, but it would be
worse to accord them to living Napoleons; such a course might easily
shake the new throne, and recall the allies to Paris.

The hatred of the princes of Europe against Napoleon was still continued
against his family, and