England and Her Enemies. A FRENCH VIEW OF PERILS ENCOMPASSING THE GREAT BRITISH EMPIRE.

Are the English so strong, so sure of their power, so thoroughly convinced of their superiority that they can afford to display so much disdain toward a great nation? Truly, the sun does not set on the possessions of the Empress of India, who counts millions of subjects in five parts of the world; but is this necessarily a sign of strength? The power of Charles V. encompassed the world, and we all know what became of his vast empire. But we foresee the objection to this comparison. It is that the power of Charles V. and Philip II. was mined by a secret and almost invisible enemy—an idea, a principle—liberty of conscience—and that Queen Victoria is not menaced by any such enemy. Indeed! But a small fact—the assassination of an Irishman of the most ignoble kind—affords ample food for reflection, and cannot fail to inspire grave doubts regarding the solidity of the British Empire. In spite of all the efforts of the English police, Carey, their unworthy protégé, was tracked, seized, and slain by a secret power. The Government of Queen Victoria, with all its resources, was not able to find a corner of the globe, however remote, where the life of the informer could be beyond the reach of the Irish counter-police.

The thing that renders this secret power so dreadful is that it exists wherever the Empress of India has subjects. In every English city, in every English colony, at the Cape, in Australia, in Canada as in India, in China as in America, in France as in Japan, wherever a British tourist travels, wherever an English missionary preaches, wherever an English merchant trades, the secret Irish enemy lurks ready to assassinate if he receives the order. The English may laugh at him or may become exasperated by him; but if England should become engaged in a foreign war could she consider without a shudder the incalculable dangers to which this enemy within might expose her—an enemy that will stop at nothing, that nothing can terrify, for he offers his life as a sacrifice, and that nothing can reconcile, for he is the personification of deadly hatred? For our part we know well that if France held within her borders millions, or even thousands, of men animated by such a spirit we would tremble for the future of our country.

But besides this irreconcilable Ireland that is everywhere, that sits in Parliament and there makes and unmakes majorities, and consequently cabinets, and that would betray the nation, if it saw fit, even in the centre of the national representation, it seems to us that the Australian colonies also are likely one day to take a notion to become independent; that the colonies in Southern Africa are rapidly becoming disaffected; that the inhabitants of India are demanding autonomy in a tone that would become very menacing if Russia should come nearer to Cabul—and she is plainly enough moving in that direction; and that Egypt is beginning to get restless and to show herself a little ungrateful, as if she cannot clearly understand the utterly disinterested intentions of Lord Dufferin. What would England do if upon two or three of these territories revolts should come simultaneously? The thing may be improbable, but not impossible. And what would England do if, taking advantage of these revolts, a great European power should declare war against her? What would she have done in 1857 if Russia had been in a position to give assistance to Nana Saïb? Such things have been seen in history.

To face such dangers—the danger of war, the danger of revolt, the danger of conspiracy—a large army composed of the most steadfast troops would be necessary. Where can England get that army? Her present forces are hardly sufficient in time of peace. She finds it impossible to retain the old soldiers in her service. A sufficient number of recruits cannot be obtained to fill up the gaps, and it appears to be impossible to stop the desertions that are constantly thinning the ranks. In vain the pay of the soldier is raised. The English workman refuses to enlist. It is, then, to the Irishman that recourse must be had. Trust that Irishman!

The British Government is unable to raise an army of more than three hundred thousand men, counting the Indian troops, whose fidelity is, perhaps, not beyond all suspicion; and three hundred thousand soldiers to defend an empire the most populous and the most widely scattered that has ever been seen on the face of the globe count for very little. Of course, there is the fleet, which is superb. But what could the fleet do against an enemy invading India by land? Of what use was it against the Boers or against Cetywayo? Of what use would it be against even a very inferior fleet that used torpedos as the Russians did on the Danube?

All these things considered, it seems to us that if the English would calmly consider their own situation they would become less arrogant in their international relations. We don't ask any more of them, for we have no desire to obtain from them any service whatsoever. We wish simply to be able to live with them and with their government on terms of courteous politeness.

Republique Française

M. Gounod, when lately at Reims, had been asked by the Archbishop to compose a Mass in honor of Joan of Arc. Some further details have since reached us as to the offer and acceptance of the happy suggestion. M. Gounod declared that he would compose within the year not a Mass, but a cantata on the life and martyrdom of the Maid of Orleans, the words to be drawn from Holy Scripture. He said, moreover, that his hope would be to return to Reims and to compose the music—the spirituality, tenderness, and animation of which all lovers of Gounod will seem to feel in advance—in the cathedral itself and close to the altar where the blessed and miraculous young creature knelt in tears to offer her victory to God.