“’No.  Let us wipe from our faces that degrading mark of shame.  Come, as of old, and rally round my eagles!  You have been subject to fiddling prudence long enough.  Come, worship now at the shrine of Glory!  You have been promised liberty, but you have had none.  I will endow you with the true, the real freedom.  When your ancestors burst over the Alps, were they not free?  Yes; free to conquer.  Let us imitate the example of those indomitable myriads; and, flinging a defiance to Europe, once more trample over her; march in triumph into her prostrate capitals, and bring her kings with her treasures at our feet.  This is the liberty worthy of Frenchmen.

“’Frenchmen!  I promise you that the Rhine shall be restored to you; and that England shall rank no more among the nations.  I will have a marine that shall drive her ships from the seas; a few of my brave regiments will do the rest.  Henceforth, the traveller in that desert island shall ask, “Was it this wretched corner of the world that for a thousand years defied Frenchmen?”

“’Frenchmen, up and rally!—­I have flung my banner to the breezes; ’tis surrounded by the faithful and the brave.  Up, and let our motto be, liberty, equality, war all over the world!

“’Napoleon III.

“‘The Marshal of the Empire, haricot.’

“Such is the Proclamation! such the hopes that a brutal-minded and bloody adventurer holds out to our country.  ‘War all over the world,’ is the cry of the savage demon; and the fiends who have rallied round him echo it in concert.  We were not, it appears, correct in stating that a corporal’s guard had been sufficient to seize upon the marauder, when the first fire would have served to conclude his miserable life.  But, like a hideous disease, the contagion has spread; the remedy must be dreadful.  Woe to those on whom it will fall!

“His Royal Highness the Prince of Joinville, Admiral of France, has hastened, as we before stated, to the disturbed districts, and takes with him his Cavalerie de la Marine.  It is hard to think that the blades of those chivalrous heroes must be buried in the bosoms of Frenchmen:  but so be it:  it is those monsters who have asked for blood, not we.  It is those ruffians who have begun the quarrel, not we.  We remain calm and hopeful, reposing under the protection of the dearest and best of sovereigns.

“The wretched pretender, who called himself Duke of Brittany, has been seized, according to our prophecy:  he was brought before the Prefect of Police yesterday, and his insanity being proved beyond a doubt, he has been consigned to a strait-waistcoat at Charenton.  So may all incendiary enemies of our Government be overcome!

“His Royal Highness the Duke of Nemours is gone into the department of the Loire, where he will speedily put an end to the troubles in the disturbed districts of the Bocage and La Vendee.  The foolish young Prince, who has there raised his standard, is followed, we hear, by a small number of wretched persons, of whose massacre we expect every moment to receive the news.  He too has issued his Proclamation, and our readers will smile at its contents: