ency which we see apostrophized
in so much contemporary national art,--as in Karbowsky's "Drums of the
Republic," Bac's spirited sketch of the return of the troops to Paris
after Marengo, Marold's "Review in the Carrousel," under the eyes of the
Emperor, and Le Blant's return of the veterans of the Republic and their
fierce impatience under the supercilious inspection of the dandies and
_incroyables_ of the capital.

The military souvenirs of the Second Empire are much less imposing.
Among the most interesting of those recently published are those of
Marshal Canrobert, taken down from his verbal recitals by M. G. Bapst,
afterward written out and corrected by the old soldier. His portrait of
Louis Napoleon is interesting; he came to Paris on the eve of the Coup
d'Etat and was presented to the Prince-President. "The man whom I saw
before me was small in stature; his eyes, very small, were dull and very
mild; while they were professedly looking at me, they had the
appearance, at the same time, of being directed at some much more
distant object; his black hair, smooth on his head, very much pomaded,
was long and fell below his ears and on his collar; his heavy moustache,
not waxed, covered his lower lip. He wore a frock-coat, buttoned up, and
a very high collar which enclosed the lower part of his face. He stood
with his side rather toward me, the left arm considerably in advance,
and offered me his hand with a constrained gesture. I felt, in clasping
it, as though I were grasping the hand of a paralytic, almost an
anchylosed one. He addressed to me some commonplace phrase, so
commonplace even that I no longer remember it; but he spoke with a
peculiar accent, which you would have taken for an Alsatian accent.
This was all that happened."

In the military operations of the 2d of December, Canrobert took part as
general of brigade: according to his own account, he constantly exerted
himself to suppress the fire of the troops on the citizens and to save
the lives of the latter. But when he was offered the grade of general of
division afterward, he refused it, and thereby, says one of his
commentators, "violated military discipline and condemned, himself, his
action of the day before."

Among the recent minor monographs relating to this epoch is one devoted
to the Imperial picked body-guard of a hundred men, the Cent-Gardes, by
M. Albert Verly, a fervent Bonapartist. One of his incidents is worth
quoting. One day, the Empres