through the streets with the parsons; abuse all foreigners in general, and the French in particular; write paragraphs in praise of our "ancient allies, the Turks," and call the battle of Navarin "untoward ;" vilify the Jesuits in Ireland, and laud them to the third heaven at Montrouge; decry Mr. Huskisson and free trade, and exclaim against a multiplicity of foreign markets for your goods, as the surest means of keeping them on the shelf; swear by the efficacy of sinking funds, and the virtues of buying annuities dear, and selling them cheap; vote experience a bore, and maintain that a camp is the best school of political wisdom, and the natural home of liberty; copy Dr. Phillpot, or Harriet Willson; publish the annals of the gaming-house, or the experiences of condemned cut-throats and the conversions of rope-sanctified sinners; -but beware of detecting error, or disturbing prejudice; leave the landmarks of Gothic ignorance unmoved, and lift not the veil through which our Saxon ancestors looked at law, divinity, and the nature of things; be obstinately determined to see no abuse in the principles or practice of the Court of Chancery; allow no vice in high life, except in the person of Long Wellesley Pole, and believe in Lord Eldon's tears, as in another Athanasian Creed; be sure to belong to the Cumberland Brunswicks, and before all things, subscribe to the new loyal church and state university. Let the "Book of the Church" be your vade mecum, and the "Vision of Judgment" your psalter. If you touch upon metaphysics, (which is never, by-the-by, quite safe,) plunge deep into transcendentals; or publish a concordat of phrenology and the Thirty-nine Articles; and if you would show your learning, answer the Edipus Judaicus, or put forth a new system of Greek metres. Do these things and prosper.

Such is the language which a cautious parent would address to his son, on his outset on the career of life, and such the sentiments which are boastfully avowed by half the public men of the day. But it is not the language of honesty, of manhood, or of patriotism. True it is, that the many are credulous, and easily led to repay devotion to their cause, not only with neglect, but with reproach and obloquy.

"Worth itself is but a charter

To be mankind's distinguish'd martyr."

But where would be the value, the praiseworthiness of virtue, if the abnegation of self was merely nominal, and required no effort? What is there indeed less contemptible and mean in pandering to the passions of the many, and assisting in their delusion, than in subserviency to the lusts and vices of an individual,—that there should be such difference in the estimation of the public and the private parasite? Why should the want of physical courage be marked with infamy, and the absence of moral courage be regarded with complacency? If nations be weak and credulous, will the cowardice of the enlightened abate the evil? That credulity which renders them ductile in evil, is equally available to lead them to good; and if all who hold sound opinions would manfully own them, and would teach what is right, as perseveringly as the base and the perverse hold forth what they know to be wrong, they are numerous enough to enforce respect, and change the current of public opinion. In all times and nations, this republic of thinkers, this interior public, if we may so speak,-has existed, and has been the solace of those generous spirits who have dared to run counter to popular error. But in our own more fortunate age, the republic

would be all powerful, if, instead of abandoning the people to their errors, it would but know and exert its energies. The mere mob which are misled to persecute the truth, brutalized as they may be by their fanatical teachers, still speak the sentiments of their heart, and act in obedience to their perceptions of right; and shall the enlightened and the instructed condescend to wear a visor, and to enact an eternal lie? With a consciousness of the approbation of the wise and the good, is there any thing so intolerable in the censure of the wicked? Even to the money-making worshippers of Mammon, the merely selfish, there might be adduced motives which might induce them to abandon their varnish of hypocrisy, and speak boldly the truth, when they perceive it. Is not their wilful self-abuse, the fighting the battles of their most determined enemies? and as for sharing in the general plunder, how few are the elect to whom this is really permitted! What in this respect is commonly called prudence, is nothing better than a short-sighted shallow calculation. Oh! away with this suicidal timidity-this vile crouching, spaniel-like abjection. "Oh! ever while you live, speak truth and shame the devil." It needs but to scrutinize, with some little accuracy, the enemies with whom we have to contend, and we shall find them more worthy of pity than of apprehension; for they are strong only in our weakness, and bully because they encounter no one to oppose them. If, indeed, any considerable sacrifice were demanded, for what can man more worthily sacrifice than for truth? The honour of victory lies but in the contest. If the public were wise and alive to their own interests, to possess useful truths would be no distinction; and to publish them would be no merit. In abandoning the cause of truth, because of the general prevalence of error, we but quit the pump because the ship is sinking. Finally, the perversity of the public is in the order of nature, and should neither surprise nor disappoint us.

M.

SKETCHES OF PARISIAN SOCIETY, POLITICS, & LITERATURE. To the Editor of the New Monthly Magazine.

Paris, Oct. 24, 1828

SIR, THE political revolution of France, which may, in fact, be regarded as the revolution of Europe, and of the world, began in 1787, was interrupted by Bonaparte on the 9th of November, 1799, and again broke out in 1815, to end heaven knows when. The men who were educated in the interval between 1800 and 1815, now take part in public affairs, figure in fashionable drawing-rooms, and are beginning to acquire reputation in the literary world. The young man who was sixteen years old in 1815, has had his character developed, and has acquired knowledge of men and things from that time to 1828. Having been brought up under a monarchical government, it might be naturally expected that he should be a royalist; but far from it, he is the avowed enemy of the Jesuits, and he is intent only on working his way into a good place under government, whatever that government may be. A young Frenchman, when he comes of age, instead of speculating on realizing a fortune by some profitable business, thinks only of paying his court to Prefects and Ministers, in order to get himself maintained at the public expense, or, as the phrase here is, manger au Budget.

In France we have four distinct classes of men in politics and literature; first, the triflers of the reign of Louis XVI., who were twenty years of age in 1788; secondly, the revolutionists, who were only twenty in 1793; thirdly, the Bonapartists, who were fifteen years old in 1800, and who from that time to 1814 were imbued with the love of military glory by reading the Emperor's bulletins; and, fourthly, the young men, who since 1815

and the second restoration of the Bourbons have been educated for the Church, under the influence of the Jesuits. Many of the sons of our noblest and wealthiest French families are educated by the Jesuits at St. Acheul, near Amiens, and at other colleges. Under such tuition they become what is termed men of the world, aud acquire the grand art of serving their own interests by flattering men in power. The Jesuit's colleges have certainly produced many able men; but the youths which now issue from them with the reputation of excellent classical scholars, are sometimes unable to understand the most simple school books, and are quite incompetent to construe a page of Horace or Tacitus. The young students of St. Acheul possess the manners and opinions of the old men who figured twenty years before the commencement of the revolution.

Napoleon restrained the progress of literature from 1800 to 1814. He bribed men of letters by places and pensions, because he stood in awe of them. The last part of the Duke de Rovigo's Memoirs contains an account of the corruption of M. Esménard, a writer who obtained credit for some talent during the empire. It was Napoleon who instructed the French Academy to elect M. de Chateaubriant. His object was to have a claim on the gratitude of every man of talent. From the treatment which Mad. de Stael's "Germany" experienced, it is easy to guess the fate that awaited any writer who might venture honestly to express his opinions. The restrictions to which authorship was subjected from 1800 to 1814, sufficiently show that the revolution has not had time to extend its influence to literature. The necessity of defending the French territory against the combined sovereigns of Europe engaged our attention from 1792 to 1800. Since the return of the Bourbons, the tyranny exercised by the nobles in the reaction of 1816, and the political manœuvres which have terminated by the election of the reasonable and prudent chamber of 1828, have superseded other subjects of interest. However, a great literary revolution is preparing. One department only promises not to rise above mediocrity, namely, metaphysics and logic. M. M. Cousin and Royer Collard (the President of the Chamber of 1828) aim at abolishing the truths established by Locke, Condillac, Tracy, Cabanis, and Bentham, and in lieu of arguments they refer to the poetic reveries of Plato. The majority of young men, educated under the imperial regime between 1800 and 1814, despise Condillac, and admire M. Royer Collard. The political reputation of this gentleman, and the honour of being President of the Elective Chamber, have raised him into popularity, and materially helped Plato's reveries to triumph over the truths of Locke and De Tracy. These circumstances easily explain the offence that has been taken in certain quarters at Dr. Broussais' clever work, entitled De l'irritation et de la folie, which, as I mentioned in one of my former letters, is a bold attack upon Plato.

For the reasons I have just stated, the great literary revolution which is about to commence in France, and that hence will spread over the whole Continent, will not extend to philosophy (that is to say, logic and metaphysics), but will be confined to literature alone. The names of Racine and Shakspeare will be watchwords in the conflict; and the question will be which of these two great poets is henceforth to be the model for tragic composition.

M. Ancelot, who, if not a poet, may be called a good versifier, lately brought out a tragedy entitled " Olga," of which I gave some account in my last letter. The success of the piece has proved a source of annoyance to the French Academy, the members of which, who are all partisans of the classic style, think it expedient every now and then to get Shakspeare, Goethe, and Schiller anathematised by their perpetual secretary M. Auger. On the first performance of a new tragedy, the public who are infected with the doctrines of the French Academy, hiss every thing that is imitated from Shakspeare; but on the second or third representation they get tired of all that is imitated from Racine. Thus, a piece written in an inflated and bombastic style is applauded to the skies on the first night of performance, though on the fourth night it will not bring five hundred francs to the theatre, the receipt on which the author's emoluments depend. The poor tragic poet is,

therefore, in an unfortunate dilemma: he must either make up his mind to be hissed on the first night by venturing upon things which were never before witnessed on the French stage; or he must incur the risk of seeing his audience fall asleep on the third night. If no very interesting political events should occur for the next six or eight months, the public will at length decide whether we are to prohibit or allow the imitation of Shakspeare in French tragedy. For the last four years, politics have constantly diverted the attention of the public from this important question, in spite of the urgent remonstrances of all those men of letters who are held to be worthy of respect, because they appear in public ceremonies in the uniform of the Institute, viz. a black coat embroidered with green.

I must call your attention to "The Memoirs of the Empress Josephine," which have just appeared, and which are extremely interesting. They are written by a lady who was born, I believe, in England, during the emigration, and who lived, as Dame de Compagnie, with the empress, after the divorce by which she was separated from Napoleon. Madame Ducrest, the niece of Madame de Genlis, is said to be the writer of these very curious and entertaining memoirs. The amiable authoress has painted the manners of the courts of Malmaison and the Chateau de Navarre in a most natural and lively style. Nothing can be more agreeable than to mark the vivacity with which a young lady of eighteen describes a kind of life then so new to her. The book is full of piquant anecdotes, in the midst of which the generous and gracious character of Josephine is prominently displayed. One thing is singular, Madame Ducrest introduces anecdotes of many living persons of distinction, the meeting with whom in society, as she must have occasion to do, will probably cause some embarrassment. For instance,

what can be more laughable than the story of M. de Clermont Tonnerre, the minister from whom France was lately delivered, dancing in 1811, heavy and clumsy as he was, before the empress and the young ladies of her court, and of the awkward accident which befel him.

A new novel from the pen of Madame Gay, entitled Les malheurs d' un amant heureux, is exceedingly popular in the fashionable circles. It affords a very accurate picture of the manners of high life about the year 1796. The extravagant passion for pleasure with which the French were seized when, released from the horrors of the reign of terror, they found themselves secure under the government of the Directory, is a curious circumstance for the consideration of the philosopher. A civilized nation, after suffering the shocks of a revolution, naturally falls into an insane love of social pleasure, whenever people begin to feel their property and lives secure. We shall probably see an instance of this in Italy, and in other countries, before the middle of the nineteenth century.

Few people, even in Paris, can be said to know the society among which they live. This accounts for the interest excited by a new novel called Le Maçon, by M. Raymond. This work presents pictures which, though not of the most agreeable kind, are nevertheless true to nature. The heroine, the wife of a mason in Paris, is the victim of her husband's jealousy and cruelty. In the lower classes of life, as in a savage state of society, the ardour of the lover is too often succeeded by the brutality of the husband. The author of the Maçon has pourtrayed the vices of the lower orders of Paris, with a degree of fidelity which is of course more revolting to the French reader than it would be to a foreigner, whose imagination will not aid him in filling up the pictures. The revolution, or to speak more correctly, the sale of the property of the clergy and emigrants, by producing a feeling of respectabifity among the common people in France, has rendered them the happiest in the world. But the working classes in Paris are still less happy than the laboureurs of la Brie, or the vignarons of Burgundy. Paris is the point of attraction for mauvais sujets from all parts of France, and to this circumstance must be attributed the horrors described in the Maçon. The novel is read by every body, from the lady of fashion down to her femme de chambre.

PROFESSIONAL SKETCHES, NO. 11.

Mr. Charles Bell.

THIS gentleman holds a high rank among modern physiologists, and is one of the most talented men in the profession. His eager, industrious, untiring and grasping spirit, contemning the dogmata of the schools, has marked out a path for its own high energies to traverse; and erecting on that path the standard of independence, he has worshipped the "lord of the lion's heart and eagle's eye," with an ardour and a devotion which have been productive of numerous benefits to science, and which have placed him, the worshipper, on a lofty pedestal of pre-eminence. The history of Mr. Bell's life would abundantly prove, how essentially requisite to the best and noblest interests of science, are perfect freedom of opinion, and a straight-forward, upright manliness of thought and action; and how useless, worthless, and disgraceful is an obsequious deference to existing usages, merely because they do exist. The age of idle imitation, and of truckling servility-of debasing prejudice, and of abject mental bondage, is, thank Heaven, passing swiftly and surely away before the light of knowledge. "The school-master is abroad!" and wisdom is daily shedding its brightest blessings upon the barren ground of ignorance.

There are many species of heroes and philanthropists in the world. "Some are born great; some achieve great things; and some have greatness thrust upon them." Some attain mighty renown by their prowess in war; and in proportion to their sanguinary and exterminating exploits are their virtues estimated. Some gain celebrity in poesy, and others in eloquence. But equal to any of these, perhaps greater than all, is that man who, dedicating his talents to the benefits of mankind, and to the instruction of his fellow-creatures, scatters about with an unsparing, although it may be an unseen hand, the benetits of his scientific knowledge.

As one of this illustrious class, for illustrious it is, Mr. Bell stands conspicuous. Not because he is a " Professor of the London University;" nor because he is a leading member of the "Council of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge;" but because he has devoted his lofty talents to the enlightenment of the ignorant, and the imparting additional information to the partially initiated; because, amidst all the toil and worry and fatigue of his professional duties, he has still snatched some hours from the current business of the day for the extension of science. This is not all even in his professional career he is distinguished as the founder of a new and rational nervous system, established on plain, tangible, palpable principles of physical demonstration.

Mr. Bell began his career in conjunction with one of the most remarkable and able men who has ever dignified the united sciences of physiology and surgery, namely, his brother, the late John Bell of Edinburgh. The boldness of this gentleman's views-the acuteness of his intellect-the manly, independent, upright scientific character of his practice, would, had he lived, have conferred on him the fame and the utility of an Abernethy. He was the very Antipodes of that patchy, empirical, disgraceful practice which then characterized surgery; and, building his knowledge upon the formation and functions

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