built; then the necessity of defence suggests itself, and two forts arise on either side of the roadstead. In 1784 the first cone of the breakwater is sunk, and the foundation of this stupendous work were laid. Two years later, and Cherbourg witnesses the first of the royal visits which have since inaugurated the different stages of construction. Louis XVI. enters in state; sees what has been done, and what there is yet to do; recognises the grandeur and the necessity of the great design, and resolves on its completion. Henceforward the idea becomes a national work. But it remained for a man of stronger will and more determined action to give to it the grand impulse of development. Napoleon comes with his men of war and his men of council; casts over the place the glance which seizes everything at once; and then was formed the thought, then uttered the words which are the inscription to his statue, and will be henceforth the motto of Cherbourg-"J'avais résolu de renouveler à Cherbourg les merveilles de l'Egypte." "J'avais élevé dejà dans la mer ma pyramide; j'aurais eu aussi mon lac Moris." The destiny of Cherbourg, as the great port of France, was now decided. The "pyramide dans la mer" progresses, and in 1813 the first opening of "mon lac Moeris" is inaugurated by Marie Louise. Amid the shouts of multitudes, the salvos of artillery, the laying of inscription stone, the benediction and the prayers of priests, the water rushes in to the avant-port, and the first dock is formed. The old dynasty has returned when the inner dock, the Bassin de Flot, is opened with the same ceremonies and the same rejoicings in presence of the Dauphin, fils de France, in 1829. Louis Philippe is on the throne when the project was submitted which has led to the completion of the Digue in its present form. Each successive government was thus connected with the progress. In 1858 the last of the "merveilles" is finished, and the "arrière bassin," the crowning effort of the great work, decreed by Napoleon I., is to be inaugurated by Napoleon III. Such is the occasion of the fêtes of Cherbourg. The pre sence of an allied sovereign, the Queen of Great Britain, is to grace the spectacle. The scene opens with her arrival and reception. It is the 4th of August. The sunshine, which follows ever her coming and going, was constant that day. The sea is calm and smooth-the lights are waning the English squadron is lying off the French shore-the slopes, the ridges, and the deep valleys between are green and bright with woods and cornfields the masts of the French ships are just visible in the distance-and now the royal yacht is seen steaming onwards; the squadron is formed in two lines; passing between them she takes the lead, and thus, followed by her ships, the Sovereign of England enters the road of Cherbourg. As soon as the royal standard is seen, the French ships, their hulls almost hidden behind the break water, their masts covered with flags, open their salute with the "tir circulaire," each ship commencing with the first gun on either deck, the others following in quick and regular succession until three rounds had been fired; thus giving to the thundering of the cannon a symphony, in the distance, almost musical; whilst salvos from the batteries on shore boomed in like a deep and crashing chorus. The effect was very perfect-flash shot after flash with continuous lightning-boom followed boom, and the smoke from each discharge curled in its own white column, twining in little eddies about the flags and masts. Now the western entrance is reached, the fort of Querqueville looms before us, the Digue stretches its length in a long dark line; a little onwards and we see it in all its extent and vastness, with its round towers and batteries, and high massive breastwork, recalling to us our boyish imagination of the walls and towers of Babylon. Inside lie the battle-ships. of France in an oblique line; and along the shore, hiding its outline, are anchored fleets of yachts and small steamers all gay with flag and pennon, their masts grouped like a forest, with the light shining through, and a church, or fort, or street showing at intervals their light floating forms contrasting prettily with the dark hulls of the men-of-war; boats shoot to and fro, giving a movement to the picture. Behind rise the hills, stretching in broken ridge and swell ing slope around the harbour. The lights are falling on them with purple tints, and are throwing a darkening shade on the waters. Such was the scene, when amid loud huzzas and cannonading, the yacht and our squadron took up their position beside the French, their flags waving to gether, each nation bearing in compliment that of the other, and the music of their bands mingling. It was the opening of the spectacle. All now was still, until the night had fallen, and the dark shadows were lying over fort, and ship, and hill, and then suddenly hundreds of beacons flashed up along the line of the Digue, flaring up in strong, fierce fires towards the sky, and casting on the waters long lines of red light, which, softened and curved by the flow, waved with all the brightness of lava streams. At the same moment the town burst into illumination, the squares were all alight with arches, and other starry shapes and gleams here and there shone from the rows of lamps along the streets. The little world of yachts seemed to flutter and wave in the reflected lights, whilst the large ships loomed dark and spectral, and the batteries, where they appeared at all, seemed struggling through a haze of sulphur flame; here and there the waves sparkled brightly, or were crossed with pale, silvery streams; here they lay in deep shadow. There is movement among the vessels near the shore; cheers ring out loudly. The shout of l'Empereur! is carried onwards. Soon is seen the white barge gliding through the lines to the Royal yacht, and instantly the British ships appeared enveloped in light; from every port streamed gleams which seemed to go down into the waves, playing and dancing with them as they descended; and from the yardarms and the rigging, blue-lights showed the figures of the men on the yards, and the outlines of the ship with mystic indistinctness. As the barge sped on, she was greeted with lusty huzzas, which fell on the stillness of night with grander effect even than the boom of the guns, and they were given out heartily and earnestly in honour of the Imperial welcome to our Sovereign. Eyes were strained to catch a glimpse of the greeting on board, but nothing could be seen save flitting forms and waving lights. Once more the cheers are heard as the Emperor is seen returning from his visit, and as he leaves the side, the Royal yacht bursts into a conflagration of red, white, and blue flame, which seemed to spread along her decks and leap up around her masts, the fires blending and melting, like rainbow hues, into a beautiful maze of light, which floated about the ship, and reflected on the water the tricolors of France. So soft, so beautiful, were these fires, that they looked like the spirits of flame divested of all anger and fierceness. The effect, aided by the scene, was perfect; and those who saw it will scarcely forget the beauty and tastefulness of that night-spectacle, though the exhibitions of the next surpassed it so much in splendour. Thus ended the first meeting of royalties. Thursday, in all the programmes of the fêtes, was appropriated to the honours and courtesies to be paid to the Queen of Great Britain. The royal guest, who had come to witness a national celebration in all the grace and amity of alliance, was to be received and welcomed with all the ceremony and all the pomp which attend the meeting of monarchs-was to be greeted with all the acclaim and enthusiasm of a people. It was to be the fête of the day. And whatever may have been the feeling, the expression of the welcome was worthy and grand. History testifies the world's belief, that show and pageant are the fitting accessories of royal greetings, and that the meetings of the dignities and powers of the earth are just occasions for display. It does seem rational, too, that there should then be more of state, more of acclamation, more of ceremony, than when Tom Brown and Jack Smith shake hands. Doubtless, however, in the ship which contained the faithful Commons, many a bosom glowed with indignation and stern contempt for the pride and pomp of kings; and many a one, despite the hubbub and the circumstance of the pageantry, sat down to calculate the cost, and mourn in spirit o'er the waste. Few, however, saw aught save propriety and meetness when, amid the thundering of cannon, firing salute after salute, and the waving of flags, and the cheers of multitudes thronging the shores and the ships, Queen Victoria landed at Cherbourg; or aught that was not natural when the groups of Norman peasants and holiday citizens crowded around to look on her and her imperial hosts, and greet them with loud vivas as they passed on through the streets and along the roads to the Montagne de Roule. The grand works were all visited, the beautiful view from the mountain seen and again the scene is on the water-again the royal progress is announced by cannonading and shouting, until the yacht is reached. And now the white barge is afloat, and under the velvet canopy, studded with gold bees, and surmounted by the gold eagle, sit the Emperor and Eugenie, accompanied by the great soldiers and the great councillors of the Empire-the Duc de Malakoff, Baraguay D'Hilliers, Marshal Vaillant, and Admiral Hamelin. The imperial banquet was to be held on board the Bretagne," the flag-ship, and they are going thither to receive their royal guest. As each of the royal parties passes, again the tir circulaire, the salvos, the manning yards, and the vivas are repeated. And yet the spectacle does not grow tame by repetition. The scenic elements are so grand, the coups-d'œil so fine, and so varying at the different times with the different lights, and from the different points. The magnificent roadstead calm and bright-the massive towers and forts around and on it, each ship in itself a spectacle, with its flags, and men on the yards, and its own column of fire and smoke -the eager excited group of spectators the wondrous prettiness of the yacht fleet-the grand roll of the cannon-the floating white clouds of smoke the ringing loud-voiced huzzas-the constant movement-the excitement, all contributed to effects not easily exhausted. There was one little novelty on this occasion which attracted the wonder of the French very much. When the yards were manned, some sailors in the Renown had climbed up to the mast-heads, and placed themselves on the trucks with their natural hardihood; and one fellow, in bravado, threw up his arms and waved a Jack, to show that he was standing without support. If fame was his aim, he was gratified, for he shared the public attention with the Emperor; none of his Gallic compeers cared to imitate him. In fact, the French fail generally in this respect, and do not range themselves on the yards with the same confidence and skill as our men; neither can they equal them in the lustiness, the strong-lunged, all-together volume of their cheers. Their saluting is, perhaps, more effective; in fact, it is the very perfection of festive cannonading. And now there was a cessation for a while-a lull during the imperial banquet-and then it was, whilst all were in expectation of some new spectacle, that, in proposing the health of our Queen, Napoleon III. gave utterance to words, which will pass throughout Europe-will be canvassed and discussed in cabinets and bureaus, and raise a sensation among politicians and journalists. Then, with the first soldiers of France beside him, surrounded by all the appurtenances of war, in sight of the gigantic works which had been designed and decreed to create the great war-port of France, he spoke of peace as the aim of the Empire-of peace as the wish of the two peoples-and, seizing a happy illustration, ended thus: "Aussi ai-je le ferme espoir que si l'on voulait réveiller les rancunes et les passions d'une autre époque, elles viendraient échouer devant le bon sens public, comme les vagues se brisent devant la Digue qui protège en ce moment, contre la violence de la mer, les escadres des deux empires." These words will fall with astonishment on those who cannot reconcile peace and Cherbourg. The banquet over, the fête of the night was to commence. The line of fires again blazed on the Digue-a signal is given, and all the ships are lit up; a few preliminary rockets are thrown, and blue-lights burnt, and the centre fort is seen in flames; the red fire breaks through the embrasures, throwing a lurid glare on the tower, and sweeps and courses along the walls, casting up jets and sparks, and forked tongues to the sky-giving all the grandeur of a conflagration without its fearfulness. Save for the soft colouring of the feu d'artifice, and of the haze left behind, it might have seemed a reality. The effect was now beautiful exceedingly. The Digue, with its large, fierce fires, and its mass of flame in the centre, and its massive stonework, showing in the red glare between, made the outer line; within were the ships, lying obliquely, each presenting its batteries of light, and reflecting from its masts and rigging little stars on the sea. Beyond was the illumination of the town; so that the roadstead lay environed by an enceinte de feu; and, as the different fires and lights flashed or shot across it, its waters and the little world which floated therein now appeared in brightness, now in dark shadow; one part sparkling brilliants, whilst another disappeared in darkness, or glimmered in misty shade. Meantime, the feu d'artifice goes on at the fort; all kinds of beautiful shapes blaze for an instant and then die out -now a cascade jets into the air, and descends in a shower of brilliant lights, breaking and vanishing in sprays of every colour-now a bouquet would spread open and unfold, and then burst in gems of gold-green topaz, thick and bright as those in the trees in Aladdin's garden. This last was the triumph and end of the display. An independent fusillade of rockets and Roman candles had been going on all the while from the passenger steamers; eccentric rockets would ascend from the Lords and Commons or the neighbouring vessels; in fact, every ship which had a firework of any kind displayed it, illustrating the Turk's idea, that an Englishman, in a general conflagration, would light and bring out his farthing candle, in order that he might have something to do with it. One of the most novel, and, at the same time, striking effects, was produced by a light thrown from the Diadem, which could be concentrated with such power on any object as to bring it out in perfect relief. Whilst the entertainment lasted, it was made to fall on the flag-ship, and showed her out clear and distinct, lying in a circle of light; and as our Queen returned, it radiated on the royal yacht, which seemed for the time bathed in the brightest moonlight. The time for parting came, and amid la même bruit the Sovereigns took leave for the night. The English ships, which had remained dark and still hitherto, were suddenly illuminated with la lumière electrique (as the French call it), and the men clustered on the yards, their white dress relieving them from the darkness of the masts and rigging, put their whole strength into their cheer, as the Emperor and Empress passed towards the shore. Of all the sounds which broke the stillness that night, there was none so thrilling as those cheers, none which vibrated with such effect on ear and feeling, or awoke such echoes around. The thundering of the cannon is imposing, and terrible at times, grand always, yet it has not, nor can it have, the majestic power of sound which belongs to the human voice. It is an impulse to Englishmen to cheer. We had cheered every imperial barge as it passed; another appeared, and a shout was just rising to our lips, when it was seen to hold the imperial flunkies in their green and gold. How the Jeameses would have been astonished by such a salute! The fires began now to flicker and wave, some to die out; the cannonading and shouting were over, all was dark and still; and so ended the second day, the fête de la mer. It was certainly also a fête de poudre, as a Frenchman said. There was a quantity of villanous saltpetre consumed that day. A French journalist, after descanting on the splendour and magnificence of the spectacle, stops to count the cost, and calculates that 25,000 francs' worth of powder had been expended in honour of the Queen of England. What a fact for some of the faithful Commons to ruminate on! The spirit of Manchester must have dwelt in this man. To those who go down to the . sea in ships, and live in the great waters, the spectacle was fine and striking in all its scenes and acts, often novel; to the citizens of Paris and London it must have had a peculiar magnificence in the combination of so many new elements, a peculiar interest from its many new effects. The next day, Friday, the Queen of England left. It was the last of the royal ceremonies. For the last time the French flag was hoisted by our ships, the English by theirs. Standing on the Digue, we see the old effects of the firing and the decorations under a new aspect; the ships are our foreground, the French liners lying in an oblique line across the "Rade," the English moving slowly, and forming into two lines as before. Once more the three thousand guns echo; the parting had taken place; the royal yacht steams on and on, takes the lead of the squadron, which follows in noble order through the passage betwixt Fort Querqueville and the Musoir, showing to the practical minds, which could withdraw themselves from the sight, what would be the effect of these batteries on them. The Trinity Brethren steam after with rival speed, and are greeted by the cry of "Go it, soundings." Soon only a little smoke is seen in the horizon, and so ends the royal visit. What may be the political import of this meeting? whether it may confirm alliances? whether the inauguration of a power which might be turned against her kingdom was a fitting occasion for the presence of an English Sovereign? whether her coming was a proof of noble confidence in the strength of her country and in the good faith of her ally? are questions we shall not debate now. We are treating of Cherbourg as a spectacle, not as a power aggressive or defensive. As a fête it was very complete, in its externals at least, for we know nought of the feelings it inspired. The grace of the visit was reciprocated by magnificence of hospitality and courtesy of reception, and all the pageantry was tasteful and happy. There was no omission, no failure; and the good feeling and festive spirit of the people gave a lifefulness and movement to the programmes of etiquette. It was a thing to have seen, a thing to remember. In many respects it may be well that the English should have participated so largely in these fêtes. Military and naval men will not have learnt much that they knew not before; but they will have seen much to strengthen their judgments, much to suggest opinions. To a certain august body, Cherbourg must have given many lessons. It must have given them eyes to see, and ears to hear, what defence means; must have told them how defence is attained, and taught them that the confidence inspired by strong defence is well bought by expenditure. They will have seen that peace is not inconsistent with preparation, and have heard that the power can best maintain peace which is the most strong, and most confident in itself. It is to be hoped that when next they discuss the Ways and Means, the impregnability and capabilities of Cherbourg may arise before them, not as a menace of aggression, but as a lesson and a warning of defence. Henceforth the fête was entirely national-it was French for the French. A promenade en rade was the programme of the day. The Emperor and Empress were to visit the different ships and the Digue. It was our chance to be on the breakwater when the imperial cortège arrived and landed; Napoleon stern, resolute, and commanding-Eugenie beautiful and elegant, sweeping along with the grace of her Spanish blood, her drapery floating on her gracefully as the plumage on a swan-the grim stalwart soldiers, the ministers of state, and les dames d'honneur. There was present the state, and also the gloom of power. In the programme, also, there were announced fêtes for the people, for the town of Cherbourg. We have ignored it as yet, ignored its doings and its revelries. Yet it was the centre of the festivities, a pleasant and pretty place withal, with its festive garb and its merry holiday crowd; and pleasant it was to turn from the grand effects and coups-d'œil to the peasant groups, the gay streets, and the varying picturesque costumes. The town |