THE peculiar character and singular talent of the French people, is nowhere so conspicuous as in the number and merit of the historical memoirs which have in every age proceeded from their exertions. Regular histories, indeed, of great merit, have been rare among them, till after the fall of Napoleon: nor is this surprising; for a despotic government, whether monarchical, republican, or imperial, is inconsistent with the deliberate thought and fearless discussion which history requires. But since that time, the ability of their historical works has been most extraordinary. The republican historians, Mignet and Thiers

the royalists, Chateaubriand and Lacretelle the descriptive, Thierry and Michaux-the philosophical, Guizot and Salvandy,-have each opened a new view in the literature of their country; and if they have not equalled the great works of Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon, they have greatly exceeded any historical productions which have since that time appeared in this country. We propose in this series to make our readers acquainted with these authors, most of which have not yet appeared in the popular form of an English translation; but which constitute a great and splendid series of pictures of the human race in different ages of its progress, dazzling from the brilliancy of their colouring, and graphic from the fidelity of their drawing.

Inferior in solidity and thought, but superior in vivacity and entertainment, the French Memoirs during the same period exhibit a view of manners, thoughts, and adventures, unequalled by the writings of any other age or country. For a very long period these popular productions have constituted a most entertaining fund of reading; and the great collection edited by Guizot, consisting of 160 volumes, is perhaps the most curious picture of life and manners which exists in the world.

But since the Revolution, they have assumed a graver and sterner cast. No longer confined to the details of courts, the gossip of saloons, or the incidents of gallantry, they have shared in the tragic and thrilling character of revolutionary life: the dreams of philosophers, the visions of enthusiastic nobles, the hopes of patriots, are portrayed in the vivid colours of actual life, and with the illusion which seduced their original authors. Presently succeed a more melancholy class. The prison, the judgment-seat, the scaffold, pass before our eyes: the agonizing suspense of the Reign of Terror-the hairbreadth escapes of persecuted virtue-the heroism of female devotion-exceed all that fiction has conceived of the grand or the terrible, and leave an impression on the mind, of the magnitude both of virtue and vice, which no other productions can produce. With the rise of Napoleon, and the era of conquest, commences a different, but a not less heart-stirring series of adventures: the achievements of valour, the energy of patriotism, the conquest of empires, are laid before us in true and vivid colours. We share in the enthusiasm of the youthful soldier; we follow the footsteps of the mature leader; we sympathize with the grief of the veteran in renown :-the din of battles, the charge of squadrons, the roar of artillery, are almost made present to our senses; and the varied picture of life and adventure, from the sentinel to the throne, from the Pyramids to the Kremlin, is brought before our eyes with all the fulness of recent recollection, and all the vivacity of undecaying impression.

M. Segur, whose memoirs form the subject of this article, stands midway between these different classes of narrative. Born of a noble family, the son of the Minister at War to Louis XVI., early initiated into the frivolities and pleasures of a Parisian life, he conveys one of the latest and best images of the high-bred circles

of French society; of that last refinement of courtly manners, where talent was associated with elegance, and simplicity of manner with pride of feeling; where vice had "lost balf its guilt by losing all its grossness, and genius all its usefulness by the sacrifice of most of its independence. But though such were his habits and his early sphere, his inclinations, his talents, and his friendships, led him to a more useful existence. Gifted with singular and varied ability; the friend of D'Alembert, Diderot, and Voltaire, of Mirabeau, Sieyes, and Lafayette, he shared alike in the philosophical circles, the political connexions, and the frivolous pleasures of the French metropolis. As life advanced, and the storm of political passion became more vehement, he withdrew from the world of amusement to that of action. An ardent friend of freedom, he followed Lafayette to combat in America for the independence of another hemisphere; and sent, after his return, as ambassador to Russia, he sustained, even in presence of Catherine, the ascendency both of freedom and of ability. On his return to France, during the fervour of the Revolution, he shared in the feelings with which its early supporters regarded its frightful excesses; and lived to nurse, by his example and precept, that vivid genius which was destined in his son to bequeath to the world the immortal picture of the campaign of Mos

COW.

There is no other writer whose works so clearly and vividly portray the state of transition, when the human mind passed from the old to the new state of society; from the world of aristocracy to that of ability; from the pacific slumbers of monarchical institutions to the heartstirring events of revolutionary action. In his pages we see alike the grievances which rendered a great change necessary for the improvement of society, the delusion which precipitated its course, the feelings with which it was regarded by the most enlightened persons of the time, and the causes which stained its progress with blood.

Of the corrupted state of society in the latter years of the reign of Louis XV., and the rapid descent which ideas were even then taking

"Soon there was neither dignity in the government, order in the finances, nor firmness in the national conduct. France lost its influence in Europe. England peaceably ruled the seas, and annexed to its dominions the Eastern world. The northern powers partitioned Poland; the equilibrium established by the treaty of Westphalia was destroyed.

"The feeling of shame attached to that royal lethargy, to that monarchical degra dation, at once wounded and awakened the pride of the French.

From one end of the kingdom to the other, it became a point of honour to join the ranks of op position; it appeared a duty to the enlightened, a virtue to the generous, an useful weapon to the philosophers. To the young and the ardent, it was a means of distinction; a fashion, which the impe tuosity of youth seized with avidity, atze

"The Parliaments framed remonstran

ces, the clergy sermons, the philosophers books, the young courtiers epigrams. Every one perceiving the helm placed in incapable hands, made it a point of honour to brave a government which no longer inspired either confidence or respect; and even the depositaries of power, no longer opposing a solid barrier to individual ambi tion, followed in the same career, and tended, without either concert or intention, to the same end.

"The old nobles, ashamed of being › governed by a plebeian mistress, and ministers without glory, regretted the days of feudal power and the decline of their splendour since the days of Richelieus The clergy looked back with bitter regreta to their influence under Madame de Mains tenon. The great magisterial bodies, and the Parliament,opposed to arbitrary power, and to the dilapidation of the finances, aq resistance which rendered them highlyq popular with the multitude.

"Every thing breathed the spirit of the League and the Fronde; and as to dis positions in such a temper, nothing is wanting but a rallying point, acri det guerre; it was soon furnished by the phis losophers. The words liberty, property, equality, were pronounced. These maso gic sounds were re-echoed from afar, and soon repeated with enthusiasm by thes very persons who in the end ascribed to them all their misfortunes o dia 21299

No one then dreamed of a Revolution, though it was advancing in opinions with signal velocity. Montesquieu had restored to the light of day the ancient rights of the people, so long buried in oblivion. The men of intelligence studied the English constitution: the young were carried away by the passion for English horses, jockeys, boots, and expenses. "Prejudices of every kind found themselves at once assailed by the fine and brilliant talent of Voltaire, the seducing eloquence of Rousseau, the vehement declamations of Raynal, the encyclopædia artillery of D'Alembert and Diderot; and while this inundation of light suddenly changed both the opinions and the manners, all classes of the ancient regime, at the moment that they were losing, without perceiving it, their roots in society, preserved, with sedulous care, their native pride, their external splendour, their old distinctions, and all the outward insignia of power. They resembled in this respect those brilliant pictures formed with a thousand colours, and traced with sand on the crystal ornaments of our festive days, where you admire magnificent castles, smiling landscapes, and rich harvests, which the slightest breath of wind dissipates for ever."-I. p. 19-21.

The state of the court was totally changed by the accession of Louis XVI, and his marriage with Marie Antoinette; but the virtues and be neficent intentions of this ill-fated monarch made no change on the progress towards the Revolution.

"Concentrating in themselves the royal dignity, every public and private virtue, and the warmest attachment of the public, the purity of their manners formed a striking contrast with the license which an audacious courtesan had made to reign in the palace; the contagion of vice did not venture to approach that asylum of innocence and modesty.

In their accession, every one anticipated for their country the most prosperous destiny. Alas! who could have anticipated that two beings, apparently formed by nature alike to bless and be blessed, should one day be the victims of the caprice of fortune, and sink beneath the stroke of the most furious and bloody anarchy! Recently presented at the court, treated with distinction by both the royal consorts, I formed part of the brilliant cortège with which they were surrounded. Who could have anticipated, from so smiling an Aurora, the gloomy tem. pests which were approaching?

"The old edifice of society, undermined in all its foundations, was now tottering to its fall, while as yet its surface exhibited no symptoms of decay. The change of manners had been unperceived, because it had been gradual; the etiquette was the same at the court. You saw there the same throne, the same names, the same distinctions of rank, the same forms.

"The city followed the example of the court. Ancient custom left between the noblesse and the burghers an immense interval, which the most distinguished talents could alone pass in appearance; there was more familiarity than equality between them and their superiors...

"The Parliaments, braving the power of the throne, though in the midst of the most respectful forms, were become republican without knowing it; they struck with their own hands the hour of Revolution. Thinking they were only following the example of their predecessors, in resisting the concordat of Francis I., or the fiscal despotism of Mazarine, they were in fact preparing the most terrible convulsions.

"The old chiefs of families, deeming themselves as immovable as the monarchy, slept without fear on the edge of a volcano. Indifferent to the affairs of the state as to their private concerns, they permitted the first to be governed by an intendant appointed by the crown, and the last by their own stewards; all their indignation was reserved for the changes of fashion, the disuse of liveries, the rage for English customs.

"The clergy, trusting to their riches and reputation, were far from believing their existence seriously menaced. They were irritated at the boldness of the philosophers, and at the defection of a large part of their own members, who, from mingling in society, had become tinged by the fashionable infidelity of the day. Not contented with attacking the license of the philosophers, they persisted in upholding puerile superstitions, mortally wounded by the torch of reason, and the light artillery of ridicule.

"As for ourselves, young and volatile nobles, without regret for the past, without disquietude for the future, we marched gaily on a carpet strewed with flowers, which concealed a yawning abyss. Thoughtless ridicule of ancient customs, of feudal pride and court etiquette, of every thing sanctioned by usage or grown venerable by age, filled our minds. The gravity of ancient manners and principles seemed intolerable; the light philosophy of Voltaire captivated our imaginations. Without weighing the arguments which

he assailed, we followed his standards as the colour of freedom and resistance.

"The new fashion of cabriolets, of frock coats and English dresses, charmed us by allowing the restraint of former custom to be laid aside. Consecrating all our time to society, to fêtes, pleasures, and the trifling duties of the court and the garri son, we enjoyed at once the distinction which the ancient manners had transmitted, and the liberty which modern ideas allowed. The one règime flattered our vanity, the other our pleasures.

"Received in our chateaux by our peasants, our guards, and our stewards, with some vestiges of feudal dignity; enjoying at court, and in the city, the distinctions of birth; elevated by our names alone to the highest situations in the camp, and at liberty at the same time to mingle without pride or apprehension in every society, to taste the charms of plebeian equality, we beheld the short period of our youth glide away in a circle of illusions, which never, I believe, were before united in any generation. Liberty, royalty, aristocracy, democracy, prejudices, reason, novelty, philosophy, all combined to render our lives delightful, and never was a more terrible awakening preceded by a sweeter sleep or more seducing dreams." -I. p. 25-6.

One of the most curious and in

structive parts of these interesting memoirs, is the picture which they afford of the universal delusion which seized all classes, and the writer of them among the rest, on the approach of the Revolution; and the large share which the higher orders themselves had in destroying the fabric which at last buried them in its ruins. This is a subject but little understood as yet in this country; but which af fords subject for the most profound meditation.

"Though it was our own ranks," he observes, "our privileges, the remains of our ancient power, which was undermined under our feet, the assaults upon them were far from displeasing us. We looked upon them as mere combats of words and pens, which could never seriously affect our superiority, and which the possession of them for so many centuries made us consider as established on an immovable basis.

"The forms of the edifice remained untouched, and we did not perceive that they were incessantly undermining its 'foundations; we laughed at the grave alarm of the old courtiers and the clergy, which thundered against the spirit of

innovation. We applauded the republican scenes at our theatres, the philoso phical discourses at our academies, the bold writings of our literary men ; and we felt ourselves encouraged in that disposi tion by the intrepid stand of the Parliaments against the government, and the noble writings of such men as Turgot and Malesherbes, who wished only moderate and indispensable reforms, but whose cautious wisdom we confounded with the spirit of universal innovation.

"Liberty, whatever was its language, pleased us by the courage which it displayed; equality, by the convenience with which it was attended. We felt a pleasure at descending from our elevation, convinced that we could ascend again whenever we chose ; and, destitute of foresight, thought we could enjoy at once the advantages of a patrician descent, and the flattery of a plebeian philosophy. From these feelings was engendered, by degrees, the same jealousy between the manners of the new and the old court, as have since divided the opinions of mankind; and their skirmishes were the prelude of those terrible combats which have since changed the face of the world."-I. 3941.

His account of the winter gayeties, a few years before the Revolution, is so extraordinary, that were it not supported by many other testimonies, and corroborated by what we see passing before our own eyes, it would seem incredible.

"We passed the winter of 1779 in balls and amusements; all the French there resembled those young Neapolitans who laugh, sing, and sleep, without disquieting themselves about the lava on the edge of a volcano. Who could foresee the terrible misfortunes which were about

to follow in the midst of so much peace and prosperity? Who could apprehend that frightful inundation of passions and crimes, at a period when every writing, every word, every action, seemed to have but one end-the extirpation of vice, the propagation of virtue, the abolition of every arbitrary regulation, the assuaging of suffering, the amelioration of commerce and agriculture, the perfection of the human race?"

A young, virtuous, and beneficent monarch, who had no other object but the happiness of his subjects, and who desired no other sway but that of justice, gave, by his example, a new stimulus to every generous and philanthropic idea. He had chosen for his Ministers two men