THE DOUBLE POLICY OF FRANCE.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 95, 6 March 1862, Page 7

THE DOUBLE POLICY OF FRANCE.

(I'Yom the "London liefiew.") France is in the niklst of great financial diffl cullies. Her harvest has failed to a totally vi foreseen extent—as we were ourselves the ver first to point out. Want of confidence is begei ting a most lamentable state of things, and peac is obviously the only possible remedy. As, upo the Italian battle-fields, Louis Napoloon acknou ledged his own incapacity when it came t ssrious work, and asked the advice of his Gene rata, and showed iiis sense in implicitly adoptin, their recommendations—even so has he now, i his hour of political perplexity, felt the insuffl ciency of his own counsels, and turned to as help from men more practical than himself. Th cry for bread was raised, and the population c the faubourgs began to stir. Before this dange every other was lost sight of, and a forme Minister, renowned for his clear judgment am for his outspoken disapprobation' of the war o 1559, was applied to. If, as by this time, all Europe believes, M Fould really did tell his master that Franci could only be saved by a permanent and stneen peace policy, which should re-awaken coniidenct in France, and engender it all over the world, i M. Fould did speak these words, clearly the onl.i ones that it would be the duty of a patriots Frenchman to utter at this pireseut hour, whenci conies it that they have produced so slight : visible result ? Why are no further steps takei upon a road so evidently pointed out as the onh one to be followed ? Why, on the contrary, arc efforts made to awaken apprehensions out o doors ? In the embarassed situation of France why is not a genuine peace policy inaugurated which would set foreign countries at rest, anc enable them to think of something besides armaments ? Why, then whenFrancecannotgotowa: with any. neighbour, are all more or less threatened by such pamphlets as those which have beer lately published in Paris ? Why is not necessity transformed into a vh-tue, and France forced into inaction ? Why is not tranquillity restored to Europe ? We fear that the reply must be,— that the difficulty of the restoration of tranquillity to Europe under the reign of Louis Napoleon, arises from the fact that, whatever France may in reality be obliged to abstain from, there are certain things which she must always seem prepared to do, or those will be discontented whose pleasure is one of the bases of the Emperor's power. Tiie second empire is of a more complicated character than the first. The despotism of the former Napoleon was a purely military one, and it was only at the moment when the whole country escaped him that he dreamt of trying what force " the people1' might perhaps Isnd him to regain it with ; the despotism of the present Emperor is a democratico-military one. It rests on the army and on the revolution. These are terrible spirits which the present sovereign of France has evoked, but he is much more their slave than their master. He is like the wizard's apprentice, and has learned how to summon mighty forces into his presence, but the spell fails him wherewith to compel them to obey. He must do their bidding, and that bidding is an equally peremptory and contradictory one. Hence the " double policy" of France. If the Emperor Napoleon had, at this present moment, only his financial difficulties to contend with, and could follow out sincerely M. Fould's programme, his task would be easy enough to perform, so easy, indeed, that the puzzle" is to see how it can be mismanaged. A straightforward policy of nonintervention abroad, and of retrenchment at home, with a minister of the practical character of Fould rendered really responsible, would very soon reassure Europe, and, in the end," satisfy France, who would, if occupied with better objects, soon forget her visions x>f " glory," and if not perpetually excited thereto, would even allow her anti-English sentiments to lie dormant. Why, then, is this policy not frankly adopted ? or, rather, why is the phantom of a directly opposite policy still held up to view, when it is next to a certainty' that that policy cannot be put into execution ? If the maintenance of peace be essential to France, and must long continue to be essential, why are not the advantages of peace to be felt by the rest of the world ? The answer can only be, because Louis Napoleon rose to power by the sole help of the army, and because his authority now rests mainly upon 600,000 bayonets, whose bearers are always ready to turn them in his cause against any one, even on the French people, and who live o.i the belief that they shall one day use them to rjvenge 1815, and reconquer the "natural frontiers." If this belief were destroyed, Louis Napoleon would lose all hold upon the army, and without his army he would be the fool of the populace. We have sufficiently stated our reasons for believing that France must keep the peace in foct, and these reasons are by this time clear to every Cabinet in Europe ; but yet that will make little difference in the enormous load of expenditure which the war-expectancy system imposes in her own defence on all Europe. Every nation in Europe might at this moment disarm, and turn into more healthy currents the floods of gold that are feeding a sterile though absolutely unavoidable system of self-defence ; but Buonaparteau France cannot disarm, for her ruler dare not say to the half million soldiers, who are his chief mainstay, " I need you not." Were he to attempt to dismiss them, or (which is the same thing) were he to proclaim them useless for any filture work of rapine and usurpation, lie must lie at their mercy, till they should be dissolved as n cohesive force j and, after that, at the mercy of a Revolution, relieved from its dread of the troops. This is a situation, perhaps, without parallel in history, for it is, to use a vulgar term, the ' sham ' set up by one country which compels the realities of others. France cannot go to war, but Franco alone dare not put herself ma condition to make her harmless to her neighbours. She must go on seeming terrible, and provoking resistance, and it would be madness for others to abate one jot oi their defensive preparations, for most assuredly on any one who should seem likely to be an easy prey, France would not hesitate to pounce with her whole swiftness and might. And, while she preserves her present formidable appearance, we, in common with ail other great European Powers must remain armed at all points, though knowing that France, in her present embarrassed state, cannot attack us ; but our expenditure of this kind is a sort of forced contribution to a general-defonce-fund, which the world, as well-as ourselves, is condemned to pay, because the second French Empire is based at once upon the Revolution and upon 000,000 bayonets, whose pleasure I it is, in the last resort, condemned to look upon j US its law. ' ■

Vkubatim Kkportiso.—Complaints are occasion(illy laade by members of Parliament that them speeches are not reported verbatim, The plan of giving vert atim reports was once tried by Dr. Stod--02114, and the result, as may be expected, was unfavorable in the extreme. The members in.tde downright fools of themselves, and set the people laughing from one end of the country to the other. Lord Castlereagh exhibited himself as "standing prostrate at the foot of, her Majesty," and " tw walking forward with his back turned upon himself." Sir Frederick Flood, one of the Irish members and a great stickler for verbatim reports, appeared one morning as having on the previous evening enlightened the house with the following -profound philosophy and brilliaul eloquence : —■" Air. Spaker, as I was coming to this house to penform the duty of the country and ould Ireland, in which I was liorp and daeeiitly reared, I was brutally attacked, Sir. by a mob, Mr. Spaker, ra£auuuliii3, Sir.; if, sir, any honorable gintleman in to be assaulted, by sucb a parcel of spalpeenis, sir, as were after attacking me, Mr. Spaker, 1 hen I say tb.it, if you do not, Mr. Spaker, be afther protecting gintlcman like myself, sir, we cannot come to the ilou*a uf Parliament at nil at all, Mr. Spaker. And in such a case, Mr. Spaker, may I be axing you, sir,-what! would become of the business of the country, J'r.j Spaker, Mr. Spaker V This proved a complete ex-j tinguisher to Sir Fred. Flood's penchant for verbatim repotting. The day on which this oration appeared hft went to the editors of all the morning papers, and! said that in future lie would leave his speeches to the " discration of the reportherß."— English paper. Pkizk HisroiiY oy South Australia.—An advertisement will be found in another column, requesting gentlemen who were supplied with suiiscriptionliats for the prize of £200, ofiered sometime ago by the Gawlcr institute for the Lest History of South Australia, to forward them at once to Mr. fc>. K. Fox, the Secretary. The 25th of June is appointed for the Committee to deckle upon the productions sent in; sad it is therefore requested that the lists may at ouce be sent «o that the accounts may be made out.— S. A. Advertiser, February Btb. \

AMERICAN lIUMOUK. The origin of American humour is a difficult ™" question, and is surrounded by a thorny thicket lul~ of theories mid doubts. ' ? First, comes an Irish element of humorous ex- '' ' aggeration, brag and fun, with'a fondness for thai mn special Irish feature—the bull. >w- Secondly, a Spanish clement of pugnacity anil t o conceit, and hatred of negroes, with v strongly dele _ veloped love of the marvellous. Ilt , Thirdly, a German clement of homeliness and in simplicity, and embracing all stores of German fg settlers. , ls j c Fourthly, an Indian element of ferocity and I • ne daring', mingled with sclf-applnudi»g narratives or o f hunting stories, and local lies about animals, in- , er chiding especially, adventures with snakes, and J er fonts with the rifle. nc j Fifthly, n Puritan element dry, grave, and o f chuckling, and embracing all stories of preachers, prayer-meetings, and anti^slavery stories. M Lastly, a special American element arising from ICC the fusion of till these ; sobered by German infln- , ro ences ; made vivacious by French influences ; pasce sionafed by Indian clinate ; mMdc bragging and if chivalrou* by Spanish alliantes ; made dry, sec,ly tarian, fervid, by hereditary Puritan feeling ; yet Li" c in itself, neither pure German, French, Spanish, cc Indian, Puritan, English, Scotch or Irish—but a American, whole and undivided. en Ariout five-und twenty years since, the humour il v first became really popular and soundly rooted in re England. Mrs. Trollope and Marryat heralded its o f adrciit. It gained the public ear as soon as the ;e, prejudices of the old foolish and lamentable war >j_ had died out ; it came wrapped in cotton ; it came [K j as a new fruit or vegetable to try if there was a ia _ market for it ; our own old fun was dying out ;| ar our new fun was beginning-, and there was room e( j for American fun ;we tried it, and liked it, as we en had done oranges after eating apples for hundreds >s- °f years. We learned to relish the flavor, though ef j cross-grained pcoplcand bitter critical people called! o,j it " extravagant," "ridiculous," and most horrible of all to respectable people's ears—vulgar. "We , ;i_ had so long been taught to think the Americans ( n convicts, rebels, cruel smugglers, slave-drivers, tha , t y we scarcely liked at first to retail even, their fan. ] re By degrees, like crinoline, hair powder, and other ; c . ephemera! follies, it grew from a luxury into a se necessity. Daily conversation wanted it as much ■ •> s as the " dandy" wanted kid gloves, perfumes, and boxes at the opera. ,£} Rice, too, gave it a great impetus. He was a , c second-rate American comedian, who had suddenly . ,d hit on a new idea. He had studied the droll negro : j e boatman on the wharf at Vicksburg-, on the Mis- ( „. sissipi, learnt his songs, caught his droll jargon, m copied his walk, and borrowed his dances. Negro j 1 j fun had hitherto been taught dangerous ground— t s no one had imitated it. Rice tried it and sue- , . c ceeded. His negro career was one long triumph. ( -,f Even his imitators became popular. He came over c i r to England, jumped Jim Crow to a pretty tune, j ~ and introduced among us our blessing and curse , v in the slrape of negro minstrelsy and Ameri- { n can jokes. Of course, his songs were ( 0 not pure negro ; they were not even American j .. songs ; they were generally Irish* and Scotch c tunes, furnished up and re-arranged—good old j l_ tunes too, not unjustly dug up again, but they 3 were sunk in the negro manner, and his dialogue j (j was spiced with American jokes, divested of their t ; s provincial shell or rind. At this time, when the t , New Orleans Picayune was teeming with absurd j c fun, and offering prizes " for the biggest lie," t ~ England was deluged with Yankee jokes—as, for i t instance : — f [. " There is a man in Nashville, Kentuck," says 1 f an American paper, " so enormously tall, that he j L . has to get up a ladder to shave himself." j 0 Or, " There is a man in Memphis, Tennessee," j ■t says au American paper, " who is so absent, that j y the other day he tucked up his wet umbrella in ; h bed, and stuck himself up in the corner to dry." r s Or, " The *c is a farmer in Ohio," says an s Anrerican paper, " who, learning that skunks j. j lived three hundred years, has just bought one, to v t see if the report is true. He is • some pumpkins' r f on his new purchase." r , Half these jokes were old Joe Millers, the last t g one going back as far as that primeval joker, , x t Heraclitus ; but they did very well for " Bun- '■ c combe," and the Americans are not a reading ,f people, nor does business leave many of them " 8 much time to think. About this time the dangers c c of travelling in America were typified for our 1 amusement in good stories of captains sitting j, c on the safety-valves of steamers ; of lady passen- Q 0 gers giving whole deck loads of bacon hams to }] _ feed the fires of racing steamers ; in stories of ex- 1 ~ plosions, where the captain exerts himself to save . only the passengers who haven't paid their fares. j ; . Then we had hosts of negro blunders, showing . r that half-simple, half-crafty race in a ludicrous •j and good-natured light, but never in a heroic, de- • 0 fiant, or intellectual attitude. , c But I can illustrate all this better by specimens 0 . drawn from a popular jest book, value twentyj five cents, sold by thousands last year at all the ; , railway stations from New Jersey to New Orleans. 1 It is a good specimen of the ordinary conversa- * s tional fun of average people in America. It is t ! neither better nor worse ;it is adorned with the t crudest wood-cuts, and is printed in the most r economically large type. It is entitled t t Thk Portfolio of tile Young ■ 'Ux, r c . and the abridged extracts I give from it will be c full of racy colloquialisms. . : r Tub Cincinnati Hero, f c The Hoosiers and Corncrackers of Ohio are a t brave and a wily race. On a raw October niorn- ,■ ing, a young man in seedy black, appeared ou the 2 broad sloping- shor? at Cincinnati, and elbowed his way through the crowd to the water side. 0 , " Been on a bath (spree) i" said one bye- o > stander. c. ? " Going to take a bath ?" said another. ii j The young man, heeding no one, turned up his t! z eyes to heaven, clasped his bauds together, mut- J 1 ) tered some inarticulate words, probably of dcs- j3 i pair, and clashed himself into the river. < The loafers were appalled ; but, ere a foot had " .• moved, a second young man, more roughly ' 0 f dressed, ran into their midst, shrieking wildly, w j ami demanding if any one had seen his brother, c 1 j Suddenly his eye fell on the man in seedy n ; black floundering in the water, now some yards i ; from shore. " ci t " There he is ! there he is J" he cried ; I'll d :, save him or die. Ah I" And away he dashed : s into the turbid Ohio, striking out manfully. He i . soon reached his brother, fought with him in the . water, and eventually dragged him ashore by the j J hair of his head, amid three irrepressible cheers j E - from thfl spectators. The hero was exhausted— d j ithe would-be suicide almost insensible. ■?. i j " No, he lives I" shouted out the shivering A hero—"he lives I Again have I saved him! S Ah !" ■ si -J The sufferer was carried to the nearest store,* i-1 and there, before a cheerful fire, soon restored to ?! f consciousness. J| '' Brandy ! or he perishes—my brother !" cried s * the hero. " 1, A dozen philanthropists ran for brandy. !. " Whisky, or I die of cold !" said the. hero. N B And a dozen more ran for whisky. p , " Oh, the agonies, gentlemen," said the hero, '■' ,1" I and my brother have suffered for the last ten *] -months! Oh, the penury, the scorn, the istarva- *: t; tion 1 But I draw a veil over the horrid past—for f • why should I give your feeling hearts one unneces- * ■ sary pang ?" ' ~ ' "Go on," shouted twenty voice*, „ ' " But, gentlemen, should I be ungrateful for o such sympathy ? Should a miserable pride bridle « 'my ton^ur ? We have seen better days ; yes, kuvc. sj L . better days ; but repeated losses ha/c so weakened t< i my ]ioor brother's brain, that this is the second 1! - time J have saved his life this week. Ah !" *' f A moist-oyed man, with red hair, here stepped ?J. :> forward, anii, with apologies, laid a silver dollar 'ion the table (the rescuer bowed, and went on talk•jiug ; lii.s half-drowned brother wns moody and de- )j "Iprersed). A second man put down ft two, a third t,; L iI;; five, dollar bill ; there was soon a respectable 1; jjpile, and nil for the gallant youth who had risked si c his own life to Fare a brother's. ° " Smart chaps," said a bystander from a c - suburban village, who saw the two brothers £ ;- depart clieered by the sympathising crowd. "Why, do you know them ?" said a second v man, who had laid down the dollars pretty freely. h " Know them, sure I do. Why those are the t \ the two fellers as go about saving each other's j . lives every day or two. They are the two a ■c smartest swimmers this side of the Alleghany « ;, Mountains. 1 And now I will give in dialogue the latest t

''nigger" story, the point of which is simpl lit .'tiough, and not in itself worth quoting. 1»i cl call it A rMKKY'ti 11(1.1.. x _ Two burly whitewashc-rs met in Broad-stree a) - New York, and the following conversation too place :— "Lookyeah, Zeke, you knows Roob Gufi'imi ?' hi i 4 \y a \ t r ,}u Z ,]' s know nobody else." • c" " Wai, Konb and dis chile had a splay ob ueieii tific poozieistics last night." IC " Wot you call them poozieistics ?" n v W'y, a set-to, nigguh." "Whar?" d "Do«-n Lous' Wharf." 'r " Wnl, wot o' dat■ ?" l* " Nuinn" ticuhir, Sam, only I spec dis chili didn't make much by the peculation." " How's dat, Gumbo ?" " W'y, you see, Zulcc, dat Roob GufFum s> wouldn't treat liquors round wen dis niggah ask him cibly, an' so I jest pulls his shapo down obcr 11 his forad." '" "Wot den?" >- « W'y, Sam, to tell you de troof, I spect I heard sum 'n drop on the pa'nicut d'rectly afterwards, :" an' wen I turn round to ax what it wus, I found it was dis niggsih and nuffin shorter. Hi-yah 1" '? Now, these rude and simple folkes, dull as they arc, serve better to illustrate Negro-American and American-English than all the disquisitions 1 in the world, or than all Murray or Webster ever n penned. It is impossible to explain to an Englishs mj'.n how cl arly the use of " I guess," " I reckon," c and " I caikilate," betray the peculiar state from I which the speaker comes. The peculiar force of 0 that extraordinary interjection, "Du-tell!|" which " sounds so like an entreaty, must he heard to be • appreciated. The peculiar force of " Sure," " Yes, II sir," "It is so," cannot well be described without c examples. s The sly use of the word " some," as in " some ;} corn," meant to indicate millions of bushels, is mot more especially American than those str nge c metaphors, such as "Livelyas a snapping turtle," B or a " Hart as hard as a hickory nut, and as ten■f der as a green-house flower." But it would take ' a volume to show how full of metaphors and sly • drvness American conversation generally is.— All V ,l" xr r> / i*li. -kt !._„