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of mind forsook them, and in sad perplexity they continued to advance. The procession was led by the Abbé Guyon, one of the most artful and trickish of the Jesuits, and whither did he conduct the unfortunate Cour Royale that, only a year before, had refused to attend the ceremony of fixing up the cross of the mission?-Precisely in front of that same cross! Here the Abbé Guyon, to complete his own triumph, and to enjoy the embarrassment, and what has been termed here, the false position of the Cour Royale, began to deliver a speech, a thing never done on similar occasions. During this mystification, the bystanders were at a loss to guess what the members of the court intended to do, whether they would withdraw or stay and hear the speech. You must know that as judges are immoveable in France, they may, if they possess any degree of spirit, safely brave the power of the disciples of Loyola. The affair has been so much laughed at, and the poor members of the Royal Court of Amiens were so ashamed of the trick played upon them, that, on the day after the procession, they met together and drew up a declaration which na turally commenced with an account of the fatal adventure. This official document, which has been inserted in all the journals, concludes as follows :— "To obviate the effects of the above-mentioned deception, and to prevent its being taken advantage of in future, the members of the Cour Royale declare that it was their intention to have attended only the procession of the vow of Louis the Thirteenth, and that the circumstance can in no way compromise the independence and dignity of the court."

By this unfortunate declaration the Royal Court of Amiens frankly acknowledges having been duped. English sober sense will scarcely conceive the electric effect which this affair has produced in the native land of vanity. Every court of the first instance-every petty justice of the peace, whose emoluments do not exceed eight hundred francs, is now in fear of being tricked by the Jesuits, and, finding that they may be braved with impunity, takes pleasure in snarling at them. The declaration of the Cour Royale has been a fatal blow to the poor society of Jesus.

The virtuous and tolerant Abbé de Chevezas, who for twenty years was bishop of Boston in the United States, has been appointed to the bishoprick of Bordeaux. This has given mortal offence to the Jesuits, for it shows that the ministry are standing more and more in awe of public opinion, and that they begin to think they may shake off the yoke of the disciples of Loyola. This triumph is entirely the work of the Journal des Debats, the only paper that is read by the nobility.

In general, but few Frenchmen travel in England. The difficulty of speaking your language in an intelligible way, is a great obstacle to foreigners. But what, above all, deters Frenchmen from visiting England, is the fear of dying of ennui in the evenings, owing to the great difference in the manners of the two countries. In France, every man above the lower class, is accustomed to spend his evenings abroad, and in the society of ladies. This perhaps cannot be very easily done in England; for a rout cannot be considered an agreeable party. A rout is the abuse of social intercourse, and not its equivalent or its perfection. In Paris a party is thought sufficiently numerous if it consist of five or six ladies and about a dozen gentlemen.

But whatever may be the considerations which usually withhold Frenchmen from travelling in England, I have observed with pleasure, that the curious spectacle presented by your elections has this summer tempted many of my countrymen to make a journey to England in preference to Switzerland. Before our revolution the French knew nothing about England. The customs of your country, which differ so essentially from ours, occasionally furnished our men of wit with a few agreeable jests, and that was all. Even Voltaire, whenever he speaks at any length upon England, is puerile, and soon becomes absurd; as, for example, when he accuses the English of horrible cruelty for the punishment of Admiral Byng.

Since the year 1814 we have had our elections, and we chose, well or ill,

members for our House of Commons. Seven or eight years elapsed before we properly understood our own elections. We have no bribery, it is true,' nor do we give great dinners to electors; but on the other hand, a great deal of roguery and deception is practised by the president, whom the ministry appoints for each electoral assembly. Our Chamber of Deputies does not yet feel its own strength: if I may be allowed so to express myself, I should say that it is of the same age as your House of Commons was in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. But our Chamber of Deputies is daily acquiring importance, and most of our young men of education begin to regard it as the great instrument destined to operate changes in France. To obtain a reputation for talent in Parisian society, it will no longer be sufficient to have written some agreeable poetry, or a few articles for the Journals, as was the case before 1780: a man must now be a member of the Chamber of Deputies, and must every year deliver one or two tolerable speeches. All the young men of fortune who reside in Paris do not very clearly see the turn of things which I have just described; but they feel it. However, they are not examples.

The younger portion of Parisian society (for I do not speak of people of fortune who are upwards of fifty) is fully prepared to understand England. From 1715 to 1815 the French made no advancement in comprehending the institutions of this most singular, and, at that time, the freest country in the world. The different journeys published about the year 1810 were not less frivolous than the works of the same kind which appeared in the reign of Louis the Fifteenth. I remember very well, that about the year 1800, a man would have been looked upon as an original,† if he had ventured to make in company a simple reflection like the following:-" Look at the British islands on the map, they are so small as to be scarcely perceptible, and yet, by the persevering industry of its inhabitants, that little territory imparts life and activity to the two extremities of the globe, and is alike feared at Copenhagen and before the walls of Seringapatam."

For the last two or three years we have been beginning to understand England. This fact is evident from the success which has attended the letters on the English elections, which appeared in the Globe. The Times, which is regarded as the organ of public opinion in England, inserted about the beginning of September, an abstract of these letters, acknowledging the correctness of the author's views, and the accuracy of his descriptions. These little sketches have been approved on both sides of the Channel, a thing very unusual for such productions. These letters are attributed to M. Duvergier, a young man of fortune, whose name was previously known in the literary world. In one respect they will form an epoch; for henceforth, when English customs are remarked upon in Paris, it will no longer be allowable to confine one's self to a few epigrams, more or less smart, like those written by travellers who endeavour to imitate "Voltaire's Lettres sur l'Angleterre." Do not imagine, however, that the letters attributed to M. Duvergier would induce us to admire every thing English. You have a dangerous rival in America. In the course of a discussion on England, occasioned by the letters in the Globe, M. de Pradt, Archbishop of Malines, said, "We are, with respect to liberty, like a savage who has walked all his life bare-legged. He finds it very comfortable to wear stockings, and he introduces the custom into his country; but would he be so silly as to confine himself merely to the purchasing of needles for the purpose of teaching his countrymen to knit them, when he might purchase aud import a stocking-machine, which would produce a hundred-fold more in the same time? Thus (conti

* One of our French election tricks consists in counting the number of votes for any particular candidate, and taking away twenty votes, for example, from the opposition deputy, and giving them to the deputy on the ministerial side.

This was considered an insulting term in the language which the monarchies of Louis the Fourteenth and Louis the Fifteenth formed for France.

nued M. de Pradt) we will not imitate institutions which, some hundred years ago, obtained for England a small portion of liberty. We will borrow from the Americans, the more simple and expeditious methods by which they manufacture liberty on a great scale. We ought to approximate the French to the American elections, and to take good care not to imitate those of England."

The Times and Morning Chronicle are much more read in Paris in the present year than they were during the last. This habit, which is regarded with much satisfaction by all sensible persons, would soon be discontinued were we frequently to find in the English Journals such futile observations as the Times inserted, on the profound sensation excited in France by the Portuguese Constitution. The Times remarked "Tous les journaux de Paris parlent de la constitution de Portugal avec cette exaggération et cette sensibilité folle que les Français portent dans tout. Chez nous seuls (les Anglais) la sensation produite par cette révolution a été raisonnable." The Times would be very much embarrassed to reply to the following question: Will the giving of a charter to Portugal by Don Pedro hasten or retard the emancipation of the Irish Catholics-hasten or retard Parliamentary reform -or have any influence on the Corn Laws?

At present, matters as important to the French as the emancipation of the Irish Catholics, or the disputes about the Corn Laws, can be to the English, will be accelerated or retarded by the constitution which has been granted to the Portuguese. I have noticed the mistake of the Times, with regard to France, because errors of this sort frequently occur in the most esteemed English publications. Not long ago, the Edinburgh Review very gravely affirmed that the celebrated poet, Joseph Chenier, who, of all the imitators of Voltaire, most nearly resembles that great writer, contributed to the death of his brother André Chenier. Such mis-statements appear the more ridiculous because they are always advanced in a tone of ill-humour and jealousy, which does not become one great nation in speaking of another. England and France are the fountain-heads of all the civilization that is diffused over the world. If any thing can cast a doubt on the rank occupied by Great Britain, it is the feeling of envy and jealousy which she cherishes towards France. Unfortunately, the French are very ready in observing all the shades of wounded vanity. You cannot imagine how much we have been entertained in Paris by an article in the Quarterly Review on Baron de Stael's "Lettres sur l'Angleterre." One of Sheridan's best comedies could not have made us laugh more heartily.

It is by such articles as these that insignificant writers impede the intellectual intercourse of two great nations-an intercourse which is as advantageous to both as the exchange of our wines for Birmingham cutlery. We are at present gaining largely by that intellectual commerce which the style of the Quarterly and Edinburgh Reviews tends to check. For the last twenty-five years no French writer has afforded us any thing like the pleasure we have derived from the works of Lord Byron and Sir Walter Scott; and this we frankly acknowledge. I observe that the English newspapers carefully record all the offences tried in our assize courts. You perhaps recollect, that on a late occasion, the president of the court addressing a man who was tried for the seduction of a young girl, said :-" You are another Lovelace." Some of your English readers might possibly not recollect the character of Lovelace, in Richardson's "Clarissa;" but you see the reputation of your great novelist is still alive in France.

Besides the letters on the English elections published in the Globe, the Frenchmen who are at present travelling in England must have transmitted to their friends many accounts of what they have seen. The French were certainly never more interested about England than they now are. Our ultras are getting Cobbett's "History of the Reformation," and Lingard's History of England" translated and puffed in all their Journals. Lingard

attempts to diminish the horror naturally excited by the massacre of St. Bartholomew, and this has rendered him a favourite with the Jesuits. A French writer who is liberally pensioned by the ultras, and by M. de Corbière, the minister of the interior, has, you know, styled the massacre of St. Bartholomew a salutary rigour. Dr. Lingard had better come to France. There he will be patronized by the Bishop of Hermopolis (Frayssinous), who gives places in the University to Englishmen who turn Catholics.

During the last month our Chamber of Peers claimed a considerable share of public attention. It was hoped that the Chamber would not suffer itself to be bought, and that it would convict the robbers, who, during the war in Spain, appropriated so many millions of the public money. The Chamber has whitewashed the accused; but has blackened itself in public opinion. The ministry, or rather M. de Villele, for the other ministers are merely his clerks, acknowledges that enormous robberies have been committed, but that the robbers cannot be punished lest the government should make itself enemies. This at least is admitting that the robbers are very powerful people, and this circumstance has kept public interest so long alive on the subject. A great deal of attention has been excited by a satirical poem on M. de Villele, entitled, "La Villéliade, ou la prise du Chateau de Rivoli." (The hotel of the Minister of Finance, in which our premier resides, is situated in the Rue de Rivoli.) I have just read the eighth edition of the Villéliade;"

the success of which is owing, not to the talent of its author, but to the unpopularity of our powerful prime minister. Nothing can be more mediocre than the poem.

In England you cannot well conceive the great sensation that has been produced in France by M. de Montlosier's denunciation of the Jesuits. In this affair every thing depends on the comparison that may be drawn between the situation of one of your rich land-owners residing on his country estate, and that of an equally wealthy Frenchman, a peer of France, if you will, who spends eight months of the year at his chateau in Burgundy. The Englishman is a justice of the peace, and is respected by the parson of the parish, who most likely expects to get a living from him. He is sheriff of the county, or the sheriff is his intimate friend, who will take good care not to offend him, still less to harass him, which indeed is impossible. The English squire has perhaps no acquaintance with the bishop of the diocese in which he resides; but at all events the bishop will do nothing that can annoy him. If the road leading to his house is not good, he complains to the parish officers; and, if necessary, indicts it. If he wishes to shoot a partridge, he takes his gun, and far from being annoyed in his sport, he is rather chargeable with annoying his neighbours. In fact, the English squire is a king on his manor, while the rich French land owner, on retiring to his chateau, becomes a slave, and feels his slavery in a hundred different ways. You can have no idea of the state of things which has prevailed here since the Jesuits have, for three years, had the power of appointing all the various functionaries who tyrannize over the land-owners. If our Burgundy gentleman steps out with his gun in his hand, the constable of the district, to whom we in France give the title of garde champêtre, and who has a salary of about two hundred francs a year, comes up to him and orders him to show his license for carrying arms. (This license must be purchased every year from the Prefect.) If the garde champêtre be an uncivil fellow, or rather, if he has received a hint from the priest to harass the land-owner, he insists that the license is not correct, and takes him before the Mayor. The Mayor being afraid of offending the priest, writes to the Sub-Prefect; the Sub-Prefect, who has also no wish to offend the priests, writes to the Prefect. The Prefect, who knows that the Bishop can get him dismissed, writes to the Minister of the Interior, (M. de Corbière,) who never replies. Hence it results that as the garde champêtre has the whole power in his own hands, he can, if the priest desires it, take the Burgundy gentleman's gun from

him. If he resist, the gendarmerie wait on him next morning, and the Court of the First Instance, glad of an opportunity, not just but legal, of fining a man who is no favourite with the Bishop, is not slow in pronouncing judgment against him. Thus the gentleman of property is under the necessity of paying court to the priest and the mayor of his village, to the garde champêtre and the gendarmerie, all of whom have it in their power to give him much trouble. But the matter does not end here. He must also take care to keep in good humour all the devotees of the village, who live under the protection of the priest. Now, compare this sort of country life with that of a Devonshire squire of 5000l. a year, living on his estate. The unfortunate French gentleman of an equivalent property, if he wishes to cut down half a dozen trees on his estate, must ask permission of the Prefect, who is obliged to write to Paris for authority to grant the permission. You will find in Baron Dupin's work on England, and in the "Lettres Administratives" of M. Fiévié, a humorous description of the seventeen letters which must be written by the Sub-Prefect, the Prefect, and the Minister of the Interior, before our Burgundy gentleman can cut down six trees growing on his own property. If he wish to construct the smallest work on a water-course belonging to himself, it is also necessary for the Prefect to write at least seven or eight letters to Paris. If the Prefect wish to harass the applicant, he may let an interval of three months elapse between each of these seven or eight letters.

All this was vexatious enough in 1816; but consider how the tyranny under which the landed proprietors of France suffer, has increased since 1822, when the Jesuits obtained the power of bestowing places. The Jesuits appoint the garde champêtre, the justice of the peace, the officers of the gendarmerie, the mayor, the priest, and the sub-prefect, all of whom have an influence which is very oppressively felt by the unfortunate gentleman who, we suppose, has retired from Paris to spend eight months on his estate in Burgundy. Why should the Jesuits take so much pains to obtain the power of appointing the six functionaries I have enumerated, unless it be for the purpose of controlling the rich land-owner, whose disagreeable situation has thus far been described? This land-owner finds himself obliged, if he be a inember of the Council General of his department, to vote additional emoluments to the bishop, to follow the missionary processions, to second the petty persecutions of the priest against the peasants who like dancing on holidays, and to submit to many other things.

Now, you must know that nearly all the present French priests are young peasants unfortunately more or less imbued with a spirit of fanaticism. They come from the seminaries established by the Jesuits, in which they are taught the doctrines of the famous M. de Maistre, who may at this moment be regarded as the apostle, the St. Paul of France. M. de Maistre declares that all persons in authority, even the King, are subject to the Pope. Twenty bulls, signed by Popes, maintain this pretension. Leo XII. protects the Giornale Ecclesiastico, which is printed at Rome, and which preaches the same doctrine. Every thing, therefore, is consistent and well-arranged in the Jesuit system. Our unfortunate Burgundy gentleman is led from one submission to another, until he becomes a Jesuit of the short robe, like M. de Puiseux, minister of Louis XV. and uncle of Madame de Genlis.-See "Mémoires de Madame de Genlis," tome 2. The Burgundy land-owner has only two ways of escaping from the vexations to which he is exposed. 1. By turning a short-robed Jesuit. 2. By taking refuge in Paris. In fact Paris is the only part of France in which there is any liberty.

Suppose that our man of fortune has spirit enough to resist becoming a Jesuit. Forced by the vexations of the holy fathers, he abandons Burgundy and arrives in Paris venting impotent rage. What can a single man do, even though a millionaire and a peer of France to boot, against a society so numerous and powerful as the Jesuits? Certainly nothing! You may, however, imagine how happy our land-owner, driven from his estates by the intrigues of the Jesuits, will be, if on arriving in Paris, he finds a man of courage like M.

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