r them,
effacing them, and entering upon his functions to teach them their duty,
to read them a public lesson the first time he found himself at their
head! These vain presidents were seen turning their looks from a man who
imposed so strongly upon their pride, and who annihilated their arrogance
in the place even whence they drew it, and rendered them stupid by
regards they could not sustain.

After the Keeper of the Seals (according to the manner of the preachers)
had accustomed himself to this august audience, he uncovered himself,
rose, mounted to the King, knelt before the steps of the throne, by the
side of the middle of the steps, where the grand chamberlain was lying
upon cushions, and took the King's orders, descended, placed himself in
his chair and covered himself. Let us say it once for all, he performed
the same ceremony at the commencement of each business, and likewise
before and after taking the opinion upon each; at the bar of justice
neither he nor the chamberlain ever speaks otherwise to the King; and
every time he went to the King on this occasion the Regent rose and
approached him to hear and suggest the orders. Having returned back into
his place, he opened, after some moments of silence, this great scene by
a discourse. The report of the Bed of justice, made by the Parliament
and printed, which is in the hands of everybody, renders it unnecessary
for me to give the discourse of the Keeper of the Seals, that of the
Chief-President, those of the King's people, and the different papers
that were read and registered. I will simply content myself with some
observations. This first discourse, the reading of the letters of the
Keeper of the Seals, and the speech of the Advocate-General Blancmesnil
which followed, the opinions taken, the order given, sometimes reiterated
to keep the two double doors open, did not surprise anybody; served only
as the preface to all the rest; to sharpen curiosity more and more as the
moment approached in which it was to be satisfied.

This first act finished, the second was announced by the discourse of the
Keeper of the Seals, the force of which penetrated all the Parliament.
General consternation spread itself over their faces. Scarcely one of
the members dared to speak to his neighbour. I remarked that the Abbe
Pucelle, who, although only counsellor-clerk, was upon the forms in front
of me, stood, so that he might hear better every time the Keeper of the
Seals spoke. Bi