The Emperor of the French—His Declining Influence.
NAPOLEON is now no longer the man he was. There are many things which indicate that the good genius which has hitherto stood so faithfully by him is gradually leaving him to his own resources. Fortune, whatever the cause, is less propitious than formerly. For the last eighteen years he has occupied a more conspicuous place in the eyes of the world than any man living in the same period. The part which he has had to play in the drama of his time—a part in some sense self-selected, but in some sense also forced upon him—has been great and hazardous, but his worst enemies cannot refuse to admit that he has played it with singular ability and success. His administration of the affairs of France, notwithstanding many adverse influences, has raised that nation to a height of prosperity and greatness rivalling if not surpassing the dazzle and magnificence of the first empire. No great movement has taken place in Europe since 1848 with which he has not been directly or indirectly connected, and in no single instance, till within a recent period, has he spoken without effect or exerted his influence in vain. Since the days of Oliver Cromwell no ruler has so firmly grasped the reins of power or infused such vigor into every department of government. Nor has the emperor found scope for the exercise of his faculties in one direction only. He has appeared but once at the head of his army on the field of battle; but his success on that occasion in the estimation of many warranted the belief that, in other circumstances, it might be possible for him to rival even the brilliant military reputation of his uncle. Nor has he failed to obtain distinction in the world of letters. Not to speak of his earlier works, of which competent critics speak in terms of commendation, his “Life of Julius Cæsar,” so far as it has gone, must be regarded, with all its faults, as a marvel of industry and talent. How such a man, in such circumstances, could find time and convenience to prosecute such a task it is difficult to conceive. Success, in fact, since 1848, has been inseparable from his name. There is a tide however in the affairs of men; and to all human appearance that critical period has arrived in the history of Napoleon III. Whether his good genius has grown weary and impatient because of continuous and excessive effort we know not; but it is abundantly manifest that a change has come. The emperor is not what he was. Failure follows failure in rapid succession, and evidence accumulates upon evidence to show that his calculations are at fault. He has not yet given up his favorite game, but his movements on the political chess-board are no longer made by the same unerring hand. It was no doubt a sufficiently tempting thought to become the founder in the new world of a great Latin empire. It would give form to his favorite doctrine of Cæsarism. It would have the effect besides of counteracting the growing influence of the great Anglo-Saxon family. In giving shape to this thought, however, he overlooked two most important and vital truths; first, that institutions are rarely successfully superinduced upon a people, and secondly, that the influences that had made the Anglo-Saxon family what it is, and the elements of character which those influences had gradually formed, were wholly wanting to the Latin races. Of the folly of his Mexican enterprise the emperor is himself fully convinced. It was natural enough, too, for a Bonaparte to “detest” the treaties of 1815, and to declare, as he did in that famous speech which heralded the German war, that the time had come for the fresh rectification of frontiers and the re-arrangement of European territory. It is difficult to believe that the announcement was made for any other purpose than to flatter French pride and to encourage French ambition. The result of the German contest has been sufficiently humiliating. The treaties of 1815 have been flung to the winds of heaven, but without the aid of France. Frontiers have been rectified, but Napoleon has not been consulted. The map of Europe has been recast, but France remains what it was. And who would have believed six months ago that the all-powerful emperor of the French would have patiently endured a rebuff at the hands of the Prussian government? Nor can it be said that matters have been mended by this recent manifesto. It is a dull mind that cannot penetrate the cloud of sophistry with which it is veiled, and perceive that it has no other object than to gloss over a defeat which cannot be concealed, and soothe the irritated feelings of a people whose ambition cannot be gratified. And what shall we say of his present wretched Mexican muddle and of his miserable attitude toward Rome? Clearly the old decisive will is wanting. Hesitation and uncertainty are everywhere. Whether it is the state of the emperor’s health that is rendering him more accessible to the influence of weaker minds we know not, but certain it is that his good genius is less faithful than of old, and that the tide of his fortunes has turned.—N. Y. Herald, Oct. 18.