igny was very agreeable, combining in his manner
a great deal of the refinement of a highly cultivated mind, with
the shrewd perception of a keen observer of the world. He is a
_Legitimiste_, I take it, without any hope of his party. This, after
all, is the sad political creed of all who adhere to the "elder branch."
Their devotion is indeed great, for it wars against conviction. But
where can an honest man find footing in France nowadays? Has not Louis
Philippe violated in succession every pledge by which he had bound
himself? Can such an example of falsehood so highly placed be without
its influence on the nation? Can men cry "Shame!" on the Minister, when
they witness the turpitude of the Monarch?

But what hope does any other party offer?--None. Henri Cinque, a Bourbon
of the _vieille roche_, gentle, soft-hearted, sensual, and selfish, who,
if he returned to France to-morrow, would never believe that the long
interval since the Three Days had been any thing but an accident; and
would not bring himself to credit the possibility that the succession
had been ever endangered.

I believe, after all, one should be as lenient in their judgment of
men's change of fealty in France as they are indulgent to the capricious
fancies of a spoiled beauty. The nation, like a coquette, had every
thing its own way. The cold austerities of principle had yielded to the
changeful fortunes of success for so many years, that men very naturally
began to feel that instability and uncertainty were the normal state
of things, and that to hold fast one set of opinions was like casting
anchor in a stream when we desired to be carried along by the current.
Who are they who have risen in France since the time of the Great
Revolution? Are they the consistent politicians, the men of one
unvarying, unaltered faith? or are they the expediency makers, the men
of emergencies and crises, yielding, as they would phrase it, to "the
enlightened temper of the times"--the Talleyrands, the Soults, the
Guizots of the day?--not to speak of one higher than them all, but not
more conspicuous for his elevation than for the subserviency that has
placed him there.

Poor Chateaubriand! the man who never varied, the man that was humblest
before his rightful sovereign, and prouder than the proudest Marshal in
presence of the Emperor, how completely forgotten is he--standing like
some ruined sign-post to point the way over a road no longer travelled!
A more complete r