Louis Napoleon was too thoughtful and observant a man not to know all this.  His residence in England and intercourse with so many distinguished politicians and philosophers had taught him something.  He feared that with all his successes his throne would be overturned unless he could amuse the people and find work for turbulent spirits.  Consequently he concluded on the one hand to make a change in the foreign policy of France, and on the other to embellish his capital and undertake great public works, at any expense, both to find work for artisans and to develop the resources of the country.

When Louis Napoleon made his first attack on the strong government of Louis Philippe, at Strasburg, he was regarded as a madman; when he escaped from Ham, after his failure at Boulogne, he was looked upon by all Europe as a mere adventurer; and when he finally left England, which had sheltered him, to claim his seat in the National Assembly of republican France, and even when made President of the republic by the suffrages of the nation, he was regarded as an enigma.  Some thought him dull though bold, and others looked upon him as astute and long-headed.  His heavy look, his leaden eye, his reserved and taciturn ways, with no marked power but that of silence and secrecy, disarmed fear.  Neither from his conversations nor his writings had anybody drawn the inference that he was anything remarkable in genius or character.  His executive abilities were entirely unknown.  He was generally regarded as simply fortunate from the name he bore and the power he usurped, but with no striking intellectual gifts,—­nothing that would warrant his supreme audacity.  He had never distinguished himself in anything; but was admitted to be a thoughtful man, who had written treatises of respectable literary merit.  His social position as the heir and nephew of the great Napoleon of course secured him many friends and followers, who were attracted to him by the prestige of his name, and who saw in him the means of making their own fortune; but he was always, except in a select and chosen circle, silent, non-committal, heavy, reserved, and uninteresting.

But the President—­the Emperor—­had been a profound student of the history of the first Napoleon and his government.  He understood the French people, too, and had learned to make short speeches with great effect, in which adroitness in selecting watchwords—­especially such as captivated the common people—­was quite remarkable.  He professed liberal sentiments, sympathy with the people in their privations and labors, and affected beyond everything a love of peace.  In his manifestoes of a policy of universal peace, few saw that love of war by which he intended to rivet the chains of despotism.  He was courteous and urbane in his manners, probably kind in disposition, not bloodthirsty nor cruel, supremely politic and conciliating in his intercourse with statesmen and diplomatists, and generally simple and unstilted in his manners.  He was also