ired this alliance with
England and her noble Queen to cover up the terrible wrongs by which he
had obtained his authority. It is more likely far that he sought it in
order that under its shadow he might build himself up to resistless
power: just as an oak planted beneath the shade of other trees grows to
strength and majesty only to cut down its benefactors.

This proposal for alliance was unquestionably received by the English
people at first with feelings akin to disgust. The memory of the bad
faith by which power had been won, of the wrongs and exile of the
greatest statesmen and soldiers of France, and of the red carnage of the
Boulevards, was too recent to make such a friendship attractive. Though
acceptance of it might be good policy, yet it could not be yielded
without profound reluctance. But soon this early sentiment gave way to
something like pride. It was so satisfactory to think that the allied
powers were wellnigh irresistible; that they had only to speak and it
must be done; that they could dictate terms to the world; that they
could scourge back even the Russian despot, seeking to pour down his
hordes from the icy North to more genial climes. It is hardly
surprising, then, that men came to congratulate themselves upon so
favorable an alliance, and concluded to overlook the defect in his title
in consideration of the solid benefits which the occupant of the French
throne conferred.

But this feeling could not last. When the people of England saw how
inevitably Louis Napoleon reaped from every conflict some selfish
advantage, how the Crimean War gave him all the prestige, and the
Italian War the coveted province of Nice, they began to doubt his fair
professions. And this jealousy is fast deepening into fear. The English
people have an instinct of approaching danger. Any one can see that the
"_entente cordiale_" is not quite what it once was. When a British Lord
of Admiralty can rise in his place in Parliament, and, after alluding to
the powerful and increasing naval force of France, add,--"I say that any
Ministry who did not act upon that statement, and did not at once set
about putting the country in the position she ought to occupy in respect
to her navy, would deserve to be sent to the Tower or penitentiary,"--we
may be sure that England has as much jealousy as trust, and perhaps
quite as much alarm as either.

But we have only to look at her acts to know what England is thinking.
For six years she h