C. X. Stromyer
December 2nd 07, 08:47 AM
of Napoleon.
Hortense, therefore, conjured her sons to hold themselves aloof from all
dangerous undertakings, and not to follow those who might appeal to them
with the old word of magic power, "liberty;" that, in spite of the tears
and blood it has already caused mankind, can never lose its
wondrous power.
Her two sons promised compliance; and, much relieved, Hortense left
Florence, and went, with her younger son, Louis Napoleon, to Rome.
But Rome, otherwise so aristocratic and solemn, assumed an unusual, an
entirely new, physiognomy this winter. In society the topics of
conversation were no longer art and poetry, the Pantheon and St. Peter,
or what the newest amusement should be; but politics and the French
Revolution were the all-engrossing topics, and the populace listened
anxiously for the signal that should announce that the revolution in
Italy had at last begun.
Even the populace of Rome, usually addicted to lying so harmlessly in
the sunshine, now assembled in dense groups on the streets, and strange
words were heard when the police cautiously approached these groups for
the purpose of listening. But they now lacked the courage to arrest
those who uttered those words; they felt that such a provocation might
suffice to tear away the veil behind which the revolution still
concealed itself.
The whole energy and watchfulness of the Roman government was therefore
employed in endeavoring to avert the revolution, if possible; not,
however, by removing the cause and occasion, but by depriving the people
of the means. The son of Hortense, Louis Napoleon, seemed to the
government a means which the revolution might use for its purposes, and
it was therefore determined that he should be removed.
His name, and even the three-colored saddle-blanket of his horse, with
which he rode through the streets of Rome, were exciting to the
populace, in whose veins the fever of revolution was already throbbing.
Louis Napoleon must therefor
Hortense, therefore, conjured her sons to hold themselves aloof from all
dangerous undertakings, and not to follow those who might appeal to them
with the old word of magic power, "liberty;" that, in spite of the tears
and blood it has already caused mankind, can never lose its
wondrous power.
Her two sons promised compliance; and, much relieved, Hortense left
Florence, and went, with her younger son, Louis Napoleon, to Rome.
But Rome, otherwise so aristocratic and solemn, assumed an unusual, an
entirely new, physiognomy this winter. In society the topics of
conversation were no longer art and poetry, the Pantheon and St. Peter,
or what the newest amusement should be; but politics and the French
Revolution were the all-engrossing topics, and the populace listened
anxiously for the signal that should announce that the revolution in
Italy had at last begun.
Even the populace of Rome, usually addicted to lying so harmlessly in
the sunshine, now assembled in dense groups on the streets, and strange
words were heard when the police cautiously approached these groups for
the purpose of listening. But they now lacked the courage to arrest
those who uttered those words; they felt that such a provocation might
suffice to tear away the veil behind which the revolution still
concealed itself.
The whole energy and watchfulness of the Roman government was therefore
employed in endeavoring to avert the revolution, if possible; not,
however, by removing the cause and occasion, but by depriving the people
of the means. The son of Hortense, Louis Napoleon, seemed to the
government a means which the revolution might use for its purposes, and
it was therefore determined that he should be removed.
His name, and even the three-colored saddle-blanket of his horse, with
which he rode through the streets of Rome, were exciting to the
populace, in whose veins the fever of revolution was already throbbing.
Louis Napoleon must therefor