but unfortunately one of them happened to be insecurely fixed upon its pedestal, and fell in pieces at the feet of the authorities. My pamphlets were scattered in all directions, and, as the police would say, we were caught red-handed. The incident was so comic that our disappointment was well compensated by the ridicule which fell on the Tuileries man. We at once hit upon another combination. Returning to Paris in 1869 as a candidate for the first electoral division, Rochefort was arrested on the frontier, and this ineptitude on the part of the government carried him into the house of deputies by an overwhelming majority. Next day he was released, but then it was too late. The populace had been aroused to fury by the news of his arrest. The Grand Salon de Montmartre was crowded with electors waiting his arrival. Suddenly a wild rumor spread through the mass-"Rochefort is arrested!" The proprietor of the Grand Salon has since told me that the yelling, stamping, and beating of the walls was so violent that he feared the building would collapse. Men were delirious with anger and indignation. So great was the excitement that even Albiot could not make himself heard for quite ten minutes, although everybody in the hall was awaiting his declaration. When Rochefort himself attempted to address the electors during the campaign, he could not be heard, but not because of the enthusiasm, feverish as that always was. Like many other brilliant writers, he was no orator. My election speeches were quite incoherent. My task, however, was a very easy one, for I had only to open my mouth to excite applause. One of my meetings was reported in three lines by a ministerial newspapers - "He appears - (Vive Rochefort)! A glass of water is handed to him-(Vive Rochefort)! He wipes his face (Vive Rochefort)! platform-(Vive Rochefort)!" He leaves the Nor did he shine in the French Parliament. His speeches were made up of brief invectives and retorts. His eloquence appeared in his new paper, the Marseillaise, a veritable journal of Bashi-Bazouks, in which I undertook a daily and conscientious attack on the empire, and everybody connected with it." The only outburst he records from all his speeches in the chamber has sometimes been quoted as his masterpiece. When his name was called out at the Louvre, on the occasion of the oath-taking after the election, the emperor, who presided, was seen to laugh. A few days after, Rochefort and his friend Raspail brought in a bill abolishing the conscription, which was greeted with loud jeers. The opportunity had come. I asked permission to make a personal explanation, and, amid the breathless silence, hurled this little speech at the majority: "The minister has taken the liberty of describing our bill as ridiculous and childish. The policy of the government appears to be to ridicule all our acts and words. The chief of the State has been the first to adopt this attitude by dar ing to laugh when the name of the deputy for the first division of Paris was called out in his presence. The emperor grossly insulted the universal suffrage on which he pretends to rely. In any case, if I am ridiculous, I shall never be so ridiculous as the individual who walked about the promenade at Boulogne with an eagle on his shoulder, and a lump of lard in his hat." For a violent article on what he calls the murder of Victor Noir by Pierre, son of Lucien, Bonaparte, Rochefort sent to prison on the ninth of February, 1870, and there he remained till he was rescued by the Paris mob soon after the disaster of Sedan. "Covered with flowers, and entwined like Maypoles with colored ribbons," he and his fellow-prisoners were carried to the Hotel de Ville, where the provisional Etienne sitting. government Arago, who was walking up and down the pavement gesticulating, threw him was self into Rochefort's arms, and shouted, "Vive la République," at the top of his voice. "Vive la République! my child," he repeated. "The Mayor of Paris embraces you!" In response to the clamors of the crowd, the hero of the hour was made a member of the govern ment, Jules Favre "consoling himself with the reflection, 'It is better to have him with us than against us.'" At that moment, Rochefort thinks, he might have had the dictatorship if he had wished. Instead of this, he threw himself into the work of preparation for the coming siege of Paris, and firmly stood between the furious populace and the government until the "shilly-shallying" of Trochu and Jules Favre rendered his position untenable. Speaking of the horrors of the siege, the author notes, as M. Zola in "La Débacle" observes, that, in the dearth of solid food, the people formed the habit of excessive drinking which since then has grown to such alarming proportions. 1 Specialists [says M. Rochefort] have established the fact that, during the interval between the siege and the hour at which I am writing, the sale of absinthe and similar poisons has reached such proportions, that alcoholism is extending throughout the country like a cancer, threatening to undermine not only our health, but our race. During the Commune Rochefort devoted himself almost exclusively to his paper, the Mot d'Ordre, and by his criticisms, both of the government at Versailles and of the Paris insurgents, he placed himself between two fires. It is clear that he was never directly connected with the Communards; he so ruthlessly attacked their chiefs that he only escaped the fate of Darboy and the other hostages by flight. But flight in this case meant arrest outside the walls of Paris by the agents of the Government of Thiers. for inciting an attack upon whose house, and for other crimes and misdemeanors, he was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment. The account of his arrest at Meaux, which was still in the hands of the Germans, is characteristic and amusing. The general in command was in high dudgeon because the prisoner had been taken without his authority. He compelled the commissary to lead him to the prison. . . . His severe look led Eng. Trans. Chatto & Windus, p. 497. me to think at first that he was going to take revenge for the warlike policy I had advocated during the siege, and the resignation I had sent to the National Assembly, rather than approve the treaty of peace. .. I could not have been more his manner, he approached me with a completely deceived. Suddenly changing gracious air, and said, "You are M. Henri Rochefort, the celebrated author of the Lanterne, are you not?" I replied with a sign of acquiescence, and he continued, "You were arrested yesterday without my knowledge. I am master here. My name is General My rather knew your grandfather at Coblentz during the emigration period. Kindly take my arm; you are going to leave this prison with me." It was a tempting offer. . . . I took a moment to reflect. The prospect of being set at liberty upon the order of the men who had just dismembered my country seemed to me to be inacceptable, and I replied to the would-be liberator, "I am much obliged to you, sir. Unfortunately I cannot allow myself to take advantage of the assistance you propose. You will understand why." I saluted him, and returned to the garden to continue my walk. ... The very same day he was hurried off by a special commissary from Versailles, who threatened to blow out his brains at the least sign of resistance. and for many weeks he expected hourly to be led out to summary execution. In September, 1871, he was tried, on several counts, before a military tribunal, and sentenced to "perpetual transportation in a fortified place." This was interpreted by the government to mean Noumea, in New Caledonia. Victor Hugo pleaded with De Broglie, "that political and literary nonentity," for a modification of the sentence as "commuted" by the authorities. Why Noumea? Everybody knew that with his delicate constitution. Rochefort would be broken by the long and frightful voyage, or devoured by the climate, or killed by pining for his native land. The sentence as "commuted" was a sentence of death. It will be a day of mourning, indeed, when France learns that the grave has opened for this brilliant and valiant mind! It is a writer whose fate is at stake, and one of rare originality. You are a minister and an academician; your duties in this matter are in harmony and aid each other in their accomplishment. Hugo's eloquence was thrown away. Rochefort was transported-by degrees. First, he was sent to Fort Boyard, off the coast of France, near La Rochelle, where his coming caused a fever of excitement amongst "the Jonahs swarming in the belly of the monumental whale." In about a year he was transferred to Oleron, not, however, until after two almost successful ventures for his liberty. In the subterranean dungeons of this citadel he experienced "durance vile" indeed. Fifty prisoners were thrust into a den too small for ten. The sea oozed through the filthy walls and dripped upon the hideous mattress that made up his stock of furniture. At night enormous water-rats, as large as cats, mistook his face and body for a racecourse, and sometimes drowned themselves in his drinkingwater. Smaller vermin swarmed upon him and almost devoured him; and, all the while, the Paris press was clamoring, in the interests of equal justice, against the "scandalous favors" that were being shown to him. But there were some alleviations. In larger room in the barracks to which he was transferred he became acquainted with the Arab chiefs, for whom he had so long and vainly demanded an amnesty, and with them he spent some pleasant hours. For the purpose of a novel he was writing he had procured some colored fashion-plates. a My Arabs were stupefied at this avalanche of women in pretty colors. Mahomet forbade his followers to be painted, no one has ever known why. One of my native comrades took me discreetly aside, and inquired mysteriously if these ladies were my moukères. I told him they were my wives and that they had all sent their portraits. He spent much of his time loking at them, with tears in his eyes, thinking probably of the wives he had left on the other side of the Mediterranean. . . . I ended by presenting the plates to him, a gift which delighted him highly, and which he regarded as princely. He pasted them 730 LIVING AGE. VOL. XIV. on the wall over the head of his bed, and knelt before them every night when he said his prayers. In the autumn of 1873, after having been permitted to marry the dying mother of his children "to secure their legitimacy," Rochefort was transported in a cage, in the hold of an old and crazy frigate, to New Caledonia, where, after a martyrdom of sea-sickness, he arrived on the 10th of December, amid a demonstration from the convicts on the landing-stage, such as is not often witnessed or permitted in this world. His life was Noumea was exile rather than imprisonment. He took it gaily and enjoyed it much, in spite of the musquitos and the heat. The sunsets there reminded him of Turner's "incomparable painting," "Ulysses quitting Polyphemus," in our National Gallery. They were of liquefied gold, transfused with amethyst. The loveliest lunar rainbows spanned the humid evening sky. The stars on clear nights seemed as if about to fall upon their heads. The phosphorescent sea on those pale nights, in which the moon shone bright enough for them to see to read, formed a spectacle of poetic beauty not to be described. But exile, even in these delightful scenes, exile still, and, "like a joke, the better for being short." "I am not sorry to have seen this," he used to say, "but it is almost time to go and see something else." was The time was nearer than the thought. The captain of an Australian sailing vessel was easily persuaded to connive at a plan for rescuing the famous convict from a rock, to which, together with a few companions, he was to swim under cover of darkness. But the story must be told in Rochefort's words. Dumas has nothing better in the way of marvellous escapes. Our friend had gone on board, and, by a most encouraging coincidence, found the captain reading Bow Bells in his cabin, at the page containing my biography, with a portrait at the head. Grandthille had not much difficulty in making him understand his proposal. He was to receive ten thou sand francs for hiding me and my companions in the hold of his barque. He accepted the proposal without any discussion. "M. Henri Rochefort," said he, "is too much of a gentleman not to respect his word of honor. Returning from my farewell walk I saw a large shark disporting itself between our peninsula and the island of Nou. I called Bauer's attention to it, saying to myself in an aside, "Perhaps that is the one that will eat us to-night." But when we plunged into the sea the clouds were thickening, and the dog-fish, frightened by the thunder, had sought refuge at the bottom of the sea. Though I had often swum out to the rock, it appeared this time to be unusually distant. The tide, which was generally very slack, had almost covered its surface, and I found it impossible to distinguish it through the leaden veil that hung around us. I began to ask myself whether we had taken the right direction, for I swam a little ahead of my two companions, when I suddenly struck my knee against a pointed piece of rock and found that we were within our depths. More active than myself, Olivier Pain and Paschal Grousset scrambled up the peak ahead of me. ... We danced attendance in the crevices, and talked of returning to our hut, thinking that Grandthille had not been able to seize his employer's boat. The five gas jets in front of the prison on the island of Nou were the only spots of light to be seen. Suddenly one of these lights disappeared and then reappeared, whilst the next one seemed to go out. Evidently an opaque body was passing between us and the lights. Soon afterwards the noise of rowing reached our ears. "Are you there?" came a voice. "Yes." "Well, you'll have to swim for it; the boat can't get alongside. She only needs to touch a reef and she'll sink." We slid down into the water, and, after swimming several fathoms, managed to clutch the gunwale of the boat, like Cynægirus, and were dragged into it one after another. We dressed as hurriedly as possible, Ballière took the rudder, the boat put about, and we made for the port, where the ladder of the P. C. E. was hanging over the side ready for us to mount on board. came from France, and they were enabled to discharge their obligations and secure a passage in a steamer, viâ Fiji and Hawaii, to San Francisco. The later chapters are as lively and diverting as the rest, but English readers, for whom this edition has been specially prepared, would not have been sorry to have been spared the pain of seeing so much vitriolic language poured upon the author's enemies, both great and small. We pass it by, and linger for a moment on the pleasanter and more amusing portions of the narrative. When in Australia, a kangaroohunt was arranged for M. Rochefort and his friends. It was a delightful day, except for the poor kangaroos, three of which were shot, and a fourth missed, or, rather, I would have missed it if I had fired at it. . . . "Why didn't you fire at once? We gave you the best place." "I couldn't fire," I replied. "When I saw it stand up, and put its hand in its pocket, I took it for an omnibus conductor." In Honolulu they were favored with an audience by King Kalakaava, who protested that he was more revolutionary than themselves. After far too many bottles of champagne, his Majesty commanded them to sing the Mar seillaise. Tussaud's, on in mune. In spite of his pronounced triumphal entry into Paris, on his secHome Rule opinions, he was stoned ond amnesty in 1895, our hero wrote:in the streets of Cork, and, a visit to Madame London, he was much amused find that, since his previous visit, his effigy had been transferred from the society of kings and emperors in the Saloon of Honor to the company of criminals, in the Chamber of Horrors. His time in London, then and subsequently, was employed in picture-hunting, and in writing for the press. But, both in London and Geneva, where he sheltered Vera Zassoulitch, the Russian Nihilist who shot the chief of the St. What struck me more than anything, was this cry, which, from Calais to the Gare du Nord, never ceased to ring in my ears: "Long live honest men!" . . . I shall make this title the pride of my life. It gives the true note of popular sentiment, and shows the real significance of this demonstration. It was not the good or bad articles that I have penned during the last thirty years which were applauded by the hundreds of thousands of Parisians massed by the route followed by my collaborators and myself; it was my known disinterestedness, and the cer Petersburg police, he was the centre to tainty that I am incapable of selling my which revolutionaries of all shades and countries drew, as if by instinct and affinity. Some of them were sorry specimens, as he himself admits, and but imperfectly developed Socialists. One day, I was accosted by a longbearded man in Oxford Street, who confided his troubles to me. He had just reached London, he said, after escaping an Assize Court verdict condemning him as an Anarchist. "Ah!" I said, naively, "For a newspaper article or for a speech?" "Neither," he replied, in an off-hand tone, "it was for having brought Socialistic principles of redistribution to bear on a gold watch." But he kept the watch, and thus this piece of redistribution turned in no way to the advantage of society. conscience or my vote. The auto-eulogy is not entirely undeserved. Within the limits of his rather narrow code of honor, M. Rochefort has been honesty itself, and, in spite of all his intransigeance and bitterness in public life, in other spheres he has not seldom shown a kindly and a tender heart. Lofty and sour to those who love him not: Of most refined and cultured pagans, so From The London Times. THE POSITION OF NONCONFORMITY. The article on "The Outlook for the Established Church of England" which appeared in these columns last September excited an interest far wider than the limits of the Anglican Communion. In that article, however, the Non-conforming members of the English Church were only referred to in their capacity of opponents. It seems advisable that the readers of the Times should be placed in possession of a statement, as full as newspaper limits will allow, of the present situation of the Dissenting bodies-their position in regard to the Church of England and to each other, and the tendencies which |