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Furnislied by Mr. G. Brodie, 51 Canal-street, New York, and drawn by Voict from actual articles of Costume.
THE Dress is of shot Poult de tS'oie. The corsage is closed i to the neck, but exposes the chemisette through the graduated lozenge-shaped spaces, which are cut away. There are similar openings in the sleeves , these are divided into three large puffs. Ruches a la vielle trim the edges of these open spaces, which are further ornamented with a neat button at the points where the opposite sides are connected. The front of the skirt is similarly ornamented with echelons of ribbon. When the skirt is not lined these bouillonees may be supported by a lining of stiff muslin. They are graduated from six inches at the top to four times that length at the bottom. The Head Dress is of Valenciennes.
The Girl's Dress is composed of a striped poult de soie skirt. The basquin, of dark taffetta, is slashed at the sides and cross-laced. The sleeves are cut in a double rank of leafshaped lappets. Bows of satin ribbon trim the shoulders and the lower portion of the jacket. Lace under-sleeves and pantalettes. Gaiters, buttoned, matching in color the skirt, or of glazed leather.
The Boy's Dress is of velvet, of a dark color. The fly is of the same material as the blouse, and is lined with silk to match. The blouse is short, and confined by a belt. Breeches d la Louis XIII. Mousquetaire collar, which, as well as the wristbands, should be confined with gold buttons. Shoes of patent leather.
From the variety of Cloaes presented for the present season, we select the two following as especially worthy of illustration.
Fioure 4 is composed of velvet, of a dark color, ornamented with heavy needle-work and a massive fringe. In form it is very simple, being merely a plain skirt set with a trifling fullness upon a yoke, which is hidden by a pelerine. It is lined• throughout with plush, so that it may be worn with either side out; thus constituting in effect two garments, as the weather or fancy may dictate.
Fioure 5 is composed of cloth. It forms a circle, taken in at the neck, the cores being covered by the collar. It is cut up, as far as to the level of the bend of the arm, leaving tabs in front. The slit is curved somewhat backward, which allows the cloth to be apparently turned over, forming what appears like a sleeve. The cloak is buttoned up in front. The trimming is of galoon. It is quilted, with a silk lining to match.
NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
No. L1Y.-NOVEMBER, 1854—Vol IX.
BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
THE SECOND AsDICATION.
THE Emperor, after communing a short time with his own thoughts in the solitude of his cabinet, took a bath, and then threw himself upon his bed for a few moments of repose. But the interests at stake were too momentous, and the perils of the hour too terrible, to allow of any slumber. He soon rose, called for Caulaincourt, and, in tones of indescribable calmness and sadness, spoke of the calamity with which France was overwhelmed. His pallid cheek and sunken eye proclaimed the anguish of his mind.
"I feel," said the Emperor, in low tones of utter exhaustion, " that I have received my death wound. The blow that has fallen upon me at Waterloo is mortal. The enemies' force quadrupled ours. But I had combined a bold manoeuvre, with the view of preventing the junction of the two hostile armies. The infamous desertion of Bourmont forced me to change all my arrangements. To pass over to the enemy on the eve of a battle! Atrocious! The blood of his countrymen be on his head! The maledictions of France will pursue him."
"Sire!" said Caulaincourt, "you at first rejected that man. How unfortunate that you did not'follow your own impulse."
"Oh! this baseness is incredible," exclaimed the Emperor, bitterly. "The annals of the French army offer no precedent for such a crime. Jomini was not a Frenchman. The consequences of this defection have been most disastrous. It created despondency. Grouchy was too late. Ney was carried away by enthusiasm. Our army performed prodigies of valor, and yet we have lost the battle. Generals, marshals, all fought gloriously."
After a moment's pause he added, "I must unite the two Chambers in an imperial sitting. I will faithfully describe to them the misfortunes of the army, and appeal to them for the means of saving the country. After that I will again return to the seat of war."
But Paris was now in a state of terrific excitement. An army of a million of men, from various quarters, were marching upon the doomed and unarmed Empire. In eight days the conjoined forces of Btucher and Wellington could be in Paris. The political adversaries of Napoleon took advantage of this panic. "France must pass through seas of blood," they exclaimed, Vol. IX.—No. 54 —Z z
"to repel these locust legions. The Allies make war upon Napoleon alone. If we give him up, we shall appease them, save France from the horrors of an invasion, and then we can establish a republie, or choose another Emperor, as we please." This language was plausible. The Bourbon party hoped, in the overthrow of Napoleon, to replace, by the aid of the Allies, Louis Stanislas Xavier. The republicans of all shades hoped for the establishment of republican institutions. The more moderate and judicious of this party, like Lafayette, thought that France could sustain a healthy and law-abiding republic. The Jacobin party were ripe for any changes which might bring the lowest democracy into power. These factions in the Chambers all combined against the Emperor. The peril was so imminent, while hostile squadrons were every hour rushing nearer to Paris, that there was no time for cool deliberation. All was tumult, excitement, feverish haste. The treacherous Fouche was already in communication with the enemy, and plotting, with the most detestable hypocrisy and perfidy, for the restoration of the Bourbons. He knew that successful intrigue in their behalf would bring him a rich reward.
The Chamber of Peers and the Chamber of Deputies, two bodies somewhat corresponding to the Senate and the House of Representatives in the United States, were now in session. The Deputies consisted of five hundred members. Many of them were ardent and ultra democrats, young and inexperienced men from the provinces, who had never before sat in a legislative assembly. They were easily duped by those wily leaders, who were familiar with all the forms of legislative halls, courts, and cabinets, and with all the arts of intrigue. In the confusion and anarchy which ensued, the Peers were almost lost sight of, while the more numerous body of Deputies grasped the reins of power.
Lucien and Joseph, informed of the return of their brother, hastened to the Elysee. Soon the apartments were filled with all the great functionaries of the Empire. Some advised one thing, and some another. At seven o'clock in the morning the Emperor assembled the Council of State. He saw clearly that in that awful crisis it was in vain to rely upon the antagonistic councils and tardy measures of deliberative assemblies. He knew that the salvation of France depended upon the investment of the Emperor with dictatorial power. Prompt and decisive measures alone could save the nation. But he was resolved not to assume that power unless it was conferred upon him by the two Chambers.
The dreadful bulletin of Waterloo was read to the Council, and then Napoleon, with calmness and dignity, thus addressed them:
"The army is covered with glory. Desertions, misunderstandings, and an inexplicable fatality have rendered unavailing the heroic exertions of our troops. Our disasters are great; but they are still reparable, if my efforts are seconded. I returned to Paris to stimulate a noble impulse. If the French people rise, the enemy will be subdued. If instead of resorting to prompt measures, and making extraordinary sacrifices, time is wasted in disputes and discussions, all is lost. The enemy is in France. In eight days he will be at the gates of the capital. To save the country, it is necessary that I should be invested with vast power; with a temporary dictatorship. For the interests of all I ought to possess this power. But it will be more proper, more national, that it should be conferred upon me by the Chambers."
Carnot rose and said, with deep emotion, "I declare that I consider it indispensable that, during the present crisis, the sovereign should be invested with absolute power."
Many others warmly advocated this view, while even the traitor Fouche, who was now the agent of the Duke of Wellington, and in correspondence with him, did not venture openly to oppose it. It was, however, cautiously suggested that a strong opposition to the Emperor had arisen in the Chambers, and that it would be probably impossible to get a vote in favor of the dictatorship.
"What is it they wish?" exclaimed Napoleon. "Speak candidly. Is it my abdication they desire?"
"I fear that it is, Sire!" Regnault answered sadly. "And though it is deeply repugnant to my feelings to tell your Majesty a painful truth, yet it is my belief that were you not to abdicate voluntarily, the Chamber of Deputies would require your abdication."
To this declaration, the truth of which all seemed to apprehend, there was the response on the part of others, "If the Deputies will not unite with the Emperor to save France, he must save the Empire by his single efforts. He must declare himself a dictator. He must pronounce the whole of France in a state of siege; and he must summon all true Frenchmen to arms."
"The nation," exclaimed the Emperor, in tones which thrilled in every heart, "did not elect the Deputies to overthrow me, but to support me. Woe to them, if the presence of the enemy on the French soil do not arouse their energy and their patriotism! Whatever course they may adopt, I shall be supported by the people and the army. The fate of the Chamber, its very existence, depends on my will. Were I to pronounce their doom, they would all be sacrificed. They are playing an artful game. No matter; I have no need to resort to stratagem. I have right on my side. The patriotism of the people, their antipathy to the Bourbons, their attachment to my person, all these circumstances still afford im
mense resources, if we know how to profit by them."
The Emperor then, with his extraordinary power of lucid argument, developed an admirable plan for repairing the disasters of Waterloo. The whole measure, in its minutest details, was all distinctly mapped out in his mind. His cheek glowed with animation. His voice was strong with hope. Every eye was riveted upon him. The attention of every mind was absorbed in contemplating the workings of that stupendous intellect, which, with renewed vigor, was rising from the most awful reverses and disasters. The plans of the Emperor were so profound, so maturely considered in all their details, so manifestly and so eminently the wisest which could be adopted, that "the various shades of opinion," says Caulaincourt, who was present, " which had prevailed among the members of the Council, at length blended into one. All united in approving the plans of the Emperor."
In the midst of these scenes the Council was interrupted by the entrance of a messenger from the Chamber of Deputies, presenting some resolutions which had passed that body, and which, in their spirit, were very decidedly unfriendly to the Emperor. Lafayette, whom Napoleon had released from the dungeons of Olmutz, and restored to liberty and his family, introduced, and, by his strong personal influence, carried these resolutions. His intentions were unquestionably good, but he erred sadly in judgment. He lived to be convinced of his error, and bitterly to deplore it.
Lafayette, a man of sincere patriotism and of warm and generous impulses, thought that since the nation had so decisively rejected the Bourbons, if Napoleon would abdicate, the Allies would sheathe the sword, and allow France to establish a republie. He led the Republican party. These were weak dreams for a sensible man to indulge in. Those inclining toward the Bourbons believed that if Napoleon would abdicate, nothing could stand in the way of the restoration of Louis. The Orleanists had their partisans, who were sanguine in the hope that the vacant throne, from which Napoleon had been driven by the Allies, and the Bourbons by France, would receive the Duke of Orleans. All these parties consequently united to overthrow Napoleon, each hoping, by that event, to attain its own end. The friends of the Emperor, discouraged by this combined opposition, and trembling before the rapid approach of a million of hostile bayonets, lost heart, and bowed to the storm.
On the 23d of September, 1824, Lafayette, then on his triumphal tour through the United States, visited Joseph Bonaparte, at his mansion at Point Breeze, in New Jersey. The remains of the Emperor were then mouldering in the tomb at St. Helena. All popular rights had been struck down in France by the despotic sceptre of the Bourbons. In a secret conversasation with Joseph Bonaparte, Lafayette magnanimously acknowledged his regret at the course he had pursued in the overthrow of the Emperor. •