ote thus to M.
Emile Ollivier, a leader of the liberal party in France:[1]--

[Footnote 1: Pierre di Lana.]

"Believe me, I am not pausing through indecision, nor through a
vain infatuation as to my prerogatives; but my fear is of parting
in this country, which is shaken by so many conflicting passions,
with the means of re-establishing moral order, which is the essential
basis of liberty. My embarrassment on the subject of a law of the
Press is not how to find the power of repression, but how to define
in a law what deserves repression. The most dangerous articles
may escape repression, while the most insignificant may provoke
prosecution. This has always been the difficulty. Nevertheless,
in order to strike the public mind by decisive measures, I should
like to effect at one stroke what has been called the _crowning
of the edifice_. I should like to do this at once and forever;
for it is important to me, and it is above all important to the
country.... I wish to advance firmly in a straight line, without
oscillating to the right or left. You see that I have spoken to
you with perfect frankness."

We also see in this letter one of Louis Napoleon's characteristics,--a
fondness for taking people by surprise. Nearly everything he did
was a surprise to the public, and yet it had long been maturing
in his own mind.

The next time M. Ollivier saw the emperor he was told of his intention
to grant the right of holding political meetings; the responsibility
of cabinet ministers to the Chamber; and the almost entire freedom of
the Press. The emperor added, with a smile: "I am making considerable
concessions, and if my government immediately succeeded that of
the First Empire, this would be acknowledged; but since I came
after parliamentary governments, my concessions will be considered
small."

The emperor's experiment was a failure. The moment restraint was
taken off, and the French had liberty of speech and freedom of the
Press, they became like boys released from school and its strict
discipline. The brutal excesses of language in the Parisian newspapers,
the fierceness of their attacks upon the Government, and the
shamelessness of their slander, alarmed the emperor and the best
of his personal adherents, who had been by no means supporters of
his policy. But though the experiment gave signs of never being
likely to succeed, and no one seemed pleased with the new system,
the emperor persevered. He refused to withdraw