The Sun.
London, England, 1858-08-27 00:00:00

to the people that the family of the prince was not
entirely extinct, and that he had left a natural son of

tender age, who had been brought up in Florence under a

fictitious name. At this news the joy of the people knew
no bounds. A deputation was sent to Florence to find the
child ; it was brought back in triumph, it was proclaimed
with enthusiasm, and a century afterwards the posterity of
that child still reigned in Bologna. Gentlemen, the secret

of this historical phenomenon lies in the human heart;
whenever the news of a political assassination is spread
among a population the same results are invariably pro-
duced. After a moment of stupor the heart of man aban-
dons itself to its natural impressions. Horror of assassina-
tion, detestation of the murderers, pity for the victim, and
sympathy for his relations and friends—such are the senti-
ments which naturally and immediately show themselves.
Men, women, and children, the old and the young, all are

animated by a common feeling ; and then, as the news of
the crime spreads, all are borne down and subjugated by
the irresistible current of opinion. When the cry of

' Down with the assassins !' is raised, the terrified mur-
derers bide themselves or fly ; factions, fearing that they may
be accused of complicity, either join in the chorus of public
indignation, or seek to shelter themselves from its fury.

Finally, the worst elements of society, in whom the secret

hopes of crime always place their main reliance, are para-
lysed by the attitude of the immense majority ; and thus
the cause which the assassins though to stifle in the blood
of an illustrious victim reigns and prevails more powerful
and resplendent than ever. Such, gentlemen, is the inva-
riable turn given by the natural feelings of the human
heart to events of this kind. But how much more energetic
than in an ordinary case would be these feelings, if (which
God forbid!) the victim should be the elect of the French
people; if the assassin's poignard, in striking the Emperor,
were to pierce the heart of so many millions of men. Cer-
tainly, at such a moment, all would do their duty. Our

noble and gracious Empress, with that chivalrous courage
which distinguishes her, would repress her grief and present
her son to the people and the army. Prince Jerome, the

venerable brother of the great Emperor, would be by her
side to assist her with his counsels. The Prince Napoleon,
who now gives such hopes to the country—(applause)—
would not fail to provoke the Government, if necessary, to
take the measures requisite to ensure the throne to his

nephew; and, indeed, the Council of Regency and the
entire Government would be equal to the emergency—but
all the resources of human prudence would And themselves
surpassed by the effects of public indignation. Cries of
'A bas les assassins!' and of Vive Napoleon IV.!' would
resound from one end of France to the other—would be
more efficacious than all the arrangements of tact—and
the shade of the great Emperor then, as to-day, from the

depths of the tomb of the Invalides, would continue to
peacefully reign over France. (Enthusiastic cheering.)
Thus, messieurs, the Napoleon dynasty enjoys in reality
the best conditions of power and permanence; strong
in the sympathies of the masses, it has nothing to fear
for itself from popular convulsions ; defended by our institu-
tions against the coalitions of internal parties, it is sheltered
from those parliamentary intrigues which have caused so
many catastrophes; finally, not resting on one head alone, •
but being able, if needed, to recruit itself from all the male
descendants of the brothers of the Emperor Napoleon—it
cannot be imperilled by the success of an attempt at
assassination, and we may say of it consequently that,
in all that regards its internal prospects, it presents every
condition of strength and duration. And, messieurs, the
same may be said of its external relations. Long habituated
to dread the least movement of France, in turn revolutionary
and conquering, Europe at first did not view without in-
quietude the re-establishment upon the throne of France of
the family proscribed by the treaties of 1815. But what-
ever may have been the true sentiments of the great
Powers at the moment of the acknowledgment of the
empire, it is certain that all congratulate themselves
now upon seeing in France a strong, powerful, respected.
and wise government, which, after a glorious war, has
been able to make an equally glorious peace. Such is
the universal satisfaction, that the re-establishment of
the empire has strengthened throughout Europe the
principles of order and monarchical ideas, and effaced
the impression which the rivalry of the Powers perhaps
led them to receive from the first great tidings frogs
France. And we may say to-day that never, since 1815,
have the relations of France with Europe been at once
so honourable and friendly. Nevertheless, a cloud which,
might have proved dangerous, lately obscured our rela--
tions with a country whose alliance with ourselves had been:-
so happily cemented and so fruitful, and it has required-I
nothing less than the wisdom and reciprocal friendship,'
of the two Sovereigns to prevent a coolness betweeno
the two Powers. Happily, as the Emperor said at:
if it was wished to revive the rancours and:
passions of another epoch, the attempt would be defeated by?
the good sense of the public. In fact, messieurs, the interestwa
of the two peoples are now so closely interwoven that ite
would be difficult for even the most furious passions t P
bring to pass an entire rupture. Such is the solidarity . 4
interests, that if to. morrow London or Paris were burn Iff
we should each suffer immense commercial losses; a' ad
while a catastrophe falling upon Berlin, Vienna, or ;. st.
Petersburg would excite only our sentiments of pity, wt
it London, we should be wounded in our interests almost 0
seriously as at Paris itself. Now, when two peoples halt'
arrived at this point, they are evidently destined to dr; tW
together more closely every day their present unio
(' Tres bien ! tres bien !') Let us first consider the intere iC
to France of the English alliance. With England we ar
masters of the seas, and consequently have nothing to fea r
upon our frontiers. No coalition against us is possible, ;
general peace is assured. Our country can ge le
itself up to all the developments of its activit
without any preoccupation, and complete the wor
of establishing its institutions without incurring any risk e
Elsewhere, we have no material rivalry with England, sine
she has opened to our commerce as to her own the access t tlo
her immense colonies; it is hot her fault if, continuing ou
system of production at high prices, we do not know ho. '
to profit by it. As to England, her interest in the Frenc
alliance is, perhaps, even more manifest. She succeede a
in 1814 and 1815 in conquering the maritime and coloni;
supremacy which was the object of her desires, and to whir 11
she was in some measure destined both by her insult If
position and the genius of her inhabitants. England et I'
joys this supremacy beyond all dispute to this day; and st
says to herself that if she were again to have a strugg
with France—supposing (which God forbid !) that tl
fate of battles should inflict new disasters upon us—al je
would gain no other result than the maintenance of wh
she has already, namely, maritime and colonial supremac. dr
and, consequently, she would have much to lose at el
little to gain in a struggle with France. By a comple
change in views and interests, England has now arrived
this—that as much as 40 years ago she was hostile to franc 0'
so much now is she friendly to her ; and so great is the prt
sent disposition of the English not to separate their interes tO
from our ours, that on two most grave occasions—i
determining first to make war with us, and theta
to make peace—they, perhaps, even rather took our
position into consideration than their own. (Applause.)'
How then, such being the reciprocal disposition of the two
nations, are we to account for what followed the event of
January 14? By the commonest of all explanations—by $
series of misunderstandings which arose on both sides of thy
• Channel. Already, since the peace, public opinion in Bog.-
land had taken umbrage at some diplomatic incidents, but.
' at the news of the attempt of the 14th, England was unani-
mous in stigmatising the odious crime. At that period the
true English public—that public which, in reality, directel
and governs the State—which is accustomed to see ord e t
proceed from the greatest agitations, to disdain all the f tie
ceases of the press, to take no heed of any of the exagget
tions of liberty—the English public, I say, knew nothi 00
either of the previous attempts organised in Engle 04
against the Emperor, nor of the doctrines professed by
a portion of the refugees; it was, in all sincerit 111,
as ignorant of those infamies as it was innocent 0;
them. It was, then, with the most painful astonishment tl 314t
it believed (very mistakenly to be sure) it could see in I be
addresses which were spoken at Paris a disposition on t tie
part of France to render England responsible for the attem tit
of the 14th, and to hold her in suspicion. From that mt
ment, public opinion in England, unanimous in stigmatising'
assassination, suddenly checked the demonstrations which
were being made in every part of the country. Then, whets
the change in the regime of passports, good or bad, but so
unjustly represented as an act of defiance against the
English themselves and the addresses from the army
especially, which wrought the irritation to the highest
pitch—came, then that happened which always does hap-
pen in a free country when the national sentiment is in play,
the popular passions knew no bounds, and the politic al
situation was subject to these passions. So, while we thong' Pt ;
that we had to complain of the arrangements of our gib ,g
the English people, on their part, believing that they I PI
been profoundly injured by France, obeyed nothing' 10C
their irritation. This irritation naturally provoked ig
France a similar feeling, equally strong, and which wot ttd,
perhaps, have been dangerous without the lofty intelliger tee
and the spirit of justice of the Emperor, to appreciate t be
true cause of the attitude of our neighbours. But, messieu
whatever may have been the nature of those deploral ile
misunderstandings, and of which it is at least easy to pr
vent the return, the situation of the two peoples has uncle]. -gone no change. That which undeniably remains is tb at ;
the new instincts of England carry her as naturally to ;
union with France as formerly they promoted a separation ;
that ours follow a similar direction; that in spite c
the misunderstandings and the little reciprocal difs- •
trusts, and in spite of the intrigues of the parties whid
take advantage of them, the great English public she.
cerely desire the friendship_ of the Emperor and at
France—(applause)—that, in fact, there is really no
interest, no serious question between the two county/II g
upon which the simplest good sense cannot put th. 3
two Governments in accord; and thus that it only depends 4
upon us to maintain an alliance which is so advantageous to
b (General sips of tethesien.) I repeat, then,. mes.