The Sun.
London, England, 1848-12-13 00:00:00

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THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

IN FRANCE.
Ii c. 11.-What'el;er be the fears really enter-
' tained of digurbanVes in this ,capital in consequence of
the operatiownow going 'and which is to give France
its ruler, few- would 'ascertain their existence from 'the
appearance of the inhabitants. The weather, which, if
we may believe the accusations.of some of the adversa-
ries of General Cavaignac and the Government, had
bgencalculikted upon.as a powerful auxiliary against the
rival candidate for. the Presidency, is as fine as if no
political 'animosities itilYwhere agitated the earth. If
cad, rain, and storm were really; anticipated to form part
of the election machineryytgainst his rival, General
Cavaignac must indeed be LatterlY disappointed when be
beholds the cloudless sky and the glorious sun which
. have bleised Paris 'for the last four or five days. The
weather, in fact, is most beautiful, the sun perhaps not
so glowing, andthe sky not so deeply, so intensely blue,
as these accustomed to climes of a still more genial lati-
tude love,to gaze upon; but the heavens are yet glorious
to contemplate.
The first important day, which was looked for with
so much interest, with so much anxiety, and, it must be
said, with so much terror, has passed off without dis•
turbance, or, as far as we can learn as yet, without any
'attempt at disturbance. The 10th of December has just
,expired, and made no sign—no visible sign. To
be sure, you 'beheld the streets of Paris thronged
by vast crowds the whole of yesterday, and
'the tide'of human beings that rolled along the Champs
Elysees seemed to be endless. The absence of private
equipages showed, however, that .revolution has lately
been at work. This might attract the notice of the
stranger who bad seen Paris in other times, but the
crowds that moved along seemed not the less disposed to
pass the day in amusement, each wording to his taste
and his means. _

The great point of attaction in the quarter of the
capital to which reference has been just made appeared
to be the Jardin d'Hiver, where a grand vocal and in-
strumental concert had been announced under the direc-
tion of Strauss—not, I believe, the Strauss, but another
of the same name, perhaps of the same family, and who
for the last seven or eight years has been well known to
Parisian society, and of deserved popularity. Eighty
performers composed his band. The performance was
announced to begin at two o'clock, but before that hour
every seat was occupied.
To those not familiar with the science of music, a per-
formance where display of the art in its higher branches
is aimed at is often a tedious affair. The initiated alone
can fully appreciate the skill of the composer, or the ex-
quisite execution of the performer; but such perform-
ances as the concerts of the Jardin d'Hiver convey a
language and a meaning understood by all; and no people
are superior to the French in communicating interest
even to the accessories of all their amusements. Even he
whose ear is dull, or whose spirit is insensible to the
power of sweet sounds (if any such there be), will be
pleased, delighted, by the objects that meet his sight.
The eye, the ear, are gratified after traversing the vast
salons originally intended for ball-rooms, but
which have been left uncompleted in consequence
of the revolution of February. You ascend a narrow
staircase, and at once a view opens to the sight
which recalls all that has been told in the romances of
fairy land. Far to the right and left extend galleries or
passages that scum to hang in the very air—so slight, so
fragile are the stems from which they spring aloft.
Covered on all sides with shrubs and trees, whose
odours and whose foliage reveal the sweet luxuriance of
the tropics, you thread your way with fear lest the frail
tracery should be crushed beneath your softest step.
Protected from the external air by a crystal canopy, you
breathe an atmosphere of delight; and you wander
amidst groves of verdure that never fades. Groups of
statuary: of purest marble, half betrayed amidst the rich
foliage, meet the sight; and the murmur of concealed
tountains steals upon the ear like the faintest echoes of
music wafted from a distance. The beams of the sun
full with subdued light and heat on all; and the gutter of
birds that wander through the leaves and lowers add
life to the scene, and complete the enchantment.
From the contemplation of this beauteous scene you
are suddenly awakened by a crash of music. You turn
your eye downwards, and you behold far beneath groups
of human beings. You retrace your steps, and you
descend by pathways which look like the osier bridges
suspended in mid-atr across the torrents of the New
World; and you are awakened from one enchantment
only to eater into another.

Amidst this profusion of delights that meet the eye
and soothe the ear, one feels disinclined to criticise the
musical feast that is prepared for him. You are pre
disposed to like everything before you—all that meets
the ear as well as all that has gratified the sight; and
you listen to the strains of music from the 80 performers
who compose Strauss' band without once criticising the
scientific skill of any single one. The concert. however,
was even in this respect admirably performed—of suffi-
cient duration to be pleasing, but not a moment too long
to be fatiguing. Neither was it of so scientific a
kind as to be admired only by the artist. The pro-
gramme was essentially popular, and suited to the
tastes of all, the learned as well as the unlearned, and
not one amongst the hundreds who were present but had
his ear and sight at once charmed. A morceau from
the opera of Robert le Diable was most sweetly sung by
Mademoiselle Felix, and a romance, " Le Souffiet," by
the same, was most enthusiastically applauded. One or
two waltzes, the composition of the leader of the band,
had much merit; and a beautiful polka, " Les Soupirs
des Fleurs," was the closing piece of the performance,
and loft a pleasing impression on the minds of the
audience.

On the whole, it would be difficult to spend a more
delightful two hours than at the concert of the Jardin
d'Hiver of yesterday. It is true it was the Sabbath;
but will it be said that listening to the sweetest melody,
contemplating the richest gifts of nature, and witnessing
the happiness of hundreds of human beings, is a profa-
nation of the holy day?
The stranger, unaccustomed
.to such sights, may well
ibe permitted to ask t those who appeared to enjoy plea-
sure of so soothing and so innocent a nature were in-
deed the same who acted so lately in scenes of a far
different kind ?—were combatants of the terrible days of
Juno amongst them?—or, are they the same persons
who, it may be (yet Heaven avert the thought), are pre-
pared again to repeat the horrors of that contest? Let
us hope the contrary. Let us hope that, whatever be
the form of government adopted, the fortunes of France
will not have to be ascertained by the number of human
victims, as the priests of old sought their prophetic lore
in the mangled limbs and entrails laid bare by the knife
of the sacrificer.
Paris is tranquil, more tranquil than was expected.
The first of the days which are to decide on the fate
of the country has passed by, and the public tran-
quillity has not been disturbed. I can scarcely term
disturbauce the noisy declamations of the street orators
who succeed in gathering a group of listeners each
day in some of the public places, particularly in the
Place Vendome for which, by the way, they
seem to have a predilection. Arany of these orators,
from being not rarely in a state which makes them
speak, as well as see, double, are oftener a subject for
merriment with their auditors than anything else. The
feeling of late seems certainly to run in favour of Louis
Napoleon; and you hear more harangues in his praise
from the class of persons referred to than in favour of
his great rival. The number of soldiers who mingle in
the crowds is also becoming greater as the period of
the contest approaches; and one hero, with the full rank
of private, who certainly had not the appearance of
being a member of any temperance society on earth,
indulged himself last night in some very severe animad-
versions on Cavaignac as he " measured both sides of
the way" on the Boulevards. A little old woman, with
a face like a well-squeezed blue-rag, and overflowing
with patriotism and eau-de-vie, did her best to hiccup a
" Vive Napoleon!" and " A bas Cavaignac!" The most
zealous efforts are often thrown away on this ungrateful
world, and the interesting female in question was not an
exception to the rule, as she was jeered and hooted, yet
with a becoming deference to her sex, by a troop of
gamins who followed hard at her heels.
A man in a blouse, who amused his leisure moments
last evening iu apostrophizing the statue of Napoleon at
the foot of the column of the Place Vendome, made an
allusion or two to what he called the "English assas-
sins;" but for which spirited sally of eloquence he was
heartily laughed at by the crowd.
all this excitement there is one thing I profess
myself utterly unable to comprehend. In the journal
La Presse and others, but particularly the former, you
read from day to day the most glowing tirades against
what is called the horrible tyranny, the intolerable des-
potism du sabre of the man wh
o is now at the head of
the Government. How, then, is it possible that people
are allowed at all hours of the day, and even of the
night, to utter insulting language against the man who
is thus described as a tyrant? Does not such extraordi-
nary intolerance show the contrary; and do not the very
articles of La Presse itself, which in its wrath spares
not even the dead, prove that its over zeal blinds it. At
all events, it is not thus that tyranny is understood in
other countries.
So far as can be gathered from what one hears and
sees around, the chances seem more in favour of Louis
Napoleon than Cavaignac. I have remarked the same
in the department; ,and I have noticed particularly that
not only the Legitimists are so inclined, but also the ad-
herents of the fallen monarchy: Both parties, no doubt,
believe the realisation of their hopes, respectively, to
depend on the issue. I also believe that many of the
departments who were Republicans, or who professed
themselves so, before the revolution of February, have
long since abandoned their former opinions. The causes
assigned by mile), who support the candidateship of Louis
Napoleon are not certainly very flattering to him. It would,
of course, be hazardous to say anything positive at so
early a stage of the contest; but it is undeniable that the
opinion of the succeas of the Prince is pretty general
amongst the better classes.
It would be useless to deny that the fears of a conflict
are uppermost in the mind of almost every one you meet
—and that whatever be the result of the election. It
is natural that such fears, however unfounded they
may be, should exist, after what Paris has already seen;
but I should hope—indeed, I suspect, they may be ex-
aggerated. There are parties who would not be sur-
prised if General Cavaignac proved his sincerity to the
cause of order by withdrawing from the contest the
moment he is convinced it is hopeless for him. Such
conduct would indeed be worthy of the first citizen of a