nation of legislators-rather expect that you will give to legislation the manners of war; that, instead of transporting the city into the camp, you will transport the camp into the city. The ideas of the one will blend themselves with the institutions of the other. The feelings which Francis carried to Pavia, and which made Bonaparte refuse the peace of Chatillon-the feelings which the grand seigneur carried to Fontenoy, and the republican soldier to Marengo,-these feelings you may expect to find in the cabinet of the poet, the deputy, and the journalist of the present day. The poet will fight for his verses, the grave constitutional senator for his opinions; and the time was when we might have seen B. Constant himself-his long white hair flowing loosely over his benevolent countenance, seated calmly on a chair-a crutch in one hand, a pistol in the other, and-an enemy at twelve paces. Do not laugh at this, reader, because it would be ridiculous in England. France is not England, and never can be. Besides, the threads and cords of society are so mixed and intermingled, that it is almost impossible to trace the mysterious force which each exercises over the play of the other; and perchance it is this very military spirit which now pervades all There is a little book published in France, called "Alınanach du Peuple," and intended to make the government popular with the people, and a parallel in two columns is drawn between the government of the Restoration and the government of July. Here I find Sous la Restauration. Le Gouvernement de la Restauration et les armées étrangères avaient fait abattre partout les statues de Napoléon-on faisait un crime aux vieux soldats de se souvenir de leur Empereur et des victoires de Marengo, d'Austerlitz, et de Wagram. Depuis la Revolution. Louis Philippe a fait replacer la statue du grand homme sur la colonne de la Place Vendôme. Notre armée était réduite à L'armée est aujourd'hui portée à 250,000 hommes. 400,000 hommes !!! I should like to see the government in England, that by way of making itself popular, boasted that it had doubled the army. classes and professions of French society, and which keeps men perpetually mindful of the regard that they owe to one another-it is perchance this very military spirit which maintains order in the movement of the civil machine, shocked and deranged as it is, and as it has been; and allows a universal equality to exist, without engendering universal confusion. Be this as it may, in the various forms of society that France has yet known, that part of society governing for the moment, has always been agitated by the same spirit. Even in the times of the church, we have the old distich "Un archevêque est amiral, The precepts of the church did not alter the charver of the people; the character of the people carried war into the peaceful bosom of the church.* But let us draw a parallel; it will show the genius of the French, the influences, and the manners of two times. In 1652 the Duc de Beaufort and Duc de Nemours met behind the Hôtel de Vendôme; the Duc de Beaufort accompanied by the Comte de Barry, the Duc de Nemours by the Duc de Villars. In addition to these noblemen the princes brought each three gentlemen of their suite. They fought five to five, and the Duc de Nemours was killed. This happened in 1652-now let us turn back to the literary quarrels of last year, and the manner in which they were settled. The Corsaire laughs at the Duchesse de Berri, and the editor of a legitimist paper calls out the editor of the Corsaire. The editor of the One day the Abbé Maury was followed and insulted by the mob on coming out of the Assembly. One man came up to him and said "Maury, veux-tu que j'aille te servir la messe?""Oui,” replied Maury, showing two pocket-pistols-“ Viens, voila mes burettes." Corsaire is wounded; but, though his hand is disabled, the colour of his ink is not altered, and he very fairly says that he will have his joke for his wound. The duchesse is still laughed at as much as before. "That will not do," says the legitimist, and he calls out the satirist again; but the latter shakes his head this time, and shows his arm in a sling. "He can't always be fighting."-" Ho! ho!" says M. Carrel, the warlike editor of the National, whose semicolons almost look like inverted swords; "does anybody want to fight?"-" We! we!" the National, and the editors of the National, "we will fight as much as you please." A challenge is immediately sent by a gentleman, and a journalist, whose name I forget; but in the mean time, the editors of the liberal papers had had a consultation together, and agreed that if one fought all should fight, and that there should be a pitched battle of five on a side.* Well, what is the difference between the two combats-the journalists five on a side, and the great noblemen five on a side-except that the one were journalists and the others great noblemen? But the journal of to-day answers to the great nobleman of ancient time. We'll take the "National" for the Duc de Beaufort, for instance. The "National" has its three gentlemen attached to it now, as the Duc de Beaufort had his three gentlemen formerly attached to him. The gentlemen who write for these papers answer -do not they?-to the gentlemen who were attached to the houses of these grand seigneurs !-the great families of France-its great fortunes--are gone. The whole power of government and of society is When the gentleman commissioned to carry a hostile message to M. Carrel made his appearance, he was informed of this resolution, "but," ," said M. C. "there is no rule without its exception. I will be the exception, and fight your friend, sir, as a particular favour to-mor row morning." They fought and wounded one another severely. But the great battle was still to have taken place, and it was by an accident that we lost the spectacle of ten gentlemen of the press stripped to their shirts, and sword in hand, thrusting quart and tierce up to their knees in snow, in a quarrel respecting the virtue of the Duchesse de Berri. changed; but the feelings formerly represented by one class have found their way into another. How do you account for this? The equality which existed among the French nobility has descended and exists now among all classes--the military spirit and the military manners of France have done the same-for the character of a nation will penetrate all its institutions-will give its air and physiognomy to every form of government which that nation essays, and even to which the character of that nation seems opposed.* But it is not only that we find the soldier's character stamped on the citizen; we also find the soldier prominent in the different pursuits of the city. What man more known to succeed in that society where a certain air of gayety and gallantry captivates the woman, whose reign of coquetry is drawing to a close, and excites the admiration of the young men who are just beginning to be a-la-mode, than Col. ? A lively and agreeable countenance, over which an eye that flashes fire and a slight but dark moustache throws a martial air of energy and determination: that sort of wit which is always delivered a-propos, and which rather consists in having something on all occasions ready to say than in the precise excellence of what is said; a peculiar turn of phrase, which somehow or other gives you an idea, but an agreeable idea, of his profession; and a manner of speaking, soft but short, and full of a slight emphasis, which as he pronounces his words gives a value to them above their meaning these are the qualities, assisted by an imperturbable impudence and an excellent education, which have given to this hero of the drawing-room the notoriety he possesses. Magnificent, prodigal, studying effect in his expenses, and desirous to give to his premeditated follies the air of a careless extravagance --famous for the bills he owes for bonbons, and the money he has spent in canes--famous also for his in * I say nothing of the army, and its spirit, and its discipline, since I hope, at a future time, to go more fully into that subject. trigues behind the scenes of the "Français," in the foyers of the opera, and in the salons of the Faubourg St. Germain--perfect in the art of ripening one intrigue before he passes from the other, and deriving much of his pleasure from the pain he inflicts--ready to give offence, to take offence--great gambler, great duellist, and fortunate as both--this gentleman is the idol of a circle whose praise one courts at twenty, and despises ten years afterward. Col. is another character, entirely different from the one I have just been describing; for he is the model of a soldier, such as we figure a soldier in the times of sensibility, chivalry, and parfait amour. Passionate, nervous, incapable of rest, he has had but two idols,--peril and the woman he loved. Has he no softer object to transport, torment, irritate, and occupy him? malheur à l'état !--he conspires. But do not imagine that his character changes in his new part; that he is less frank, less open; that he does not say all that he thinks, all that he does. Listen to him! he will tell you that the scheme is almost organized, that so many men are ready in such a province, that so many barrels of powder are concealed in such a cellar in Paris; that the day is fixed; that success is certain. He is so frank that he deceives every one. The police are disconcerted, they cannot believe in arrangements that are publicly talked of at Tortoni's; a shower of rain, a change of humour, or the sight of a pretty foot, deranges the plot, and the conspiracy sleeps for a while in the arms of a new mistress. dreams of the noblest things, and as his physical force never yields before his desires, he imagines himself capable of carrying the state upon his shoulders, of restoring, destroying; his breast is a volcano of resolutions, of plans half organized, long meditated, and then in turn abandoned. But, if you told him that he mistook restlessness for activity, discontent for ambition, a love of change for a love of liberty, and |