thousand peoples. There, to the eye of the philosopher, all is transformed, like the substances mixed in a vase when the chemist's eyes watches and sees the change. This civilization which developes itself on so enormous a scale, merits an attentive contemplation. It is not yet far advanced; the laboratory is a bizarre as vast, and no philosopher could find a worthier subject.

SECTION II.

ENGLISH TRAVELLERS IN AMERICA.

Unfortunately, the majority of visitors to the States are not philosophers. Mrs. Butler, a distinguished and clever actress, describes very well the singularity of manners, and the vivid impressions produced by the great landscape upon a sensitive and feminine mind. Captain Hamilton appreciates nicely the diplomatic relations and political tendencies of the Union. The German Prince, Puckler Muskau, is light like a Dutchman who tries to be light, i. e., too much so. The other German, Grundt, a sort of paradoxical doctor, mixes up all ideas into a confused assemblage of European souvenirs. and philosophic affectations. Audubon, the poet and the friend of birds, bothers himself little about men, cities, or villages. Miss Martineau, quitting England with a firm resolution to admire the States, according to the laws of æsthetics and political economy, is quite surprised at being obliged to moderate her admiration; and the shadows of involuntary blame, which her preconceived enthusiasm, produce an amusing effect. Marryatt, bringing to the New

World his English prejudices, avenges himself by epigrams for the ennui he feels in the land of material ameliorations. Dickens takes his part bravely; and his amiable pleasantry shows a graceful light upon some particulars of private life in America.

Tyrone Power is an actor. His style is vivid, supple, easy, hazardous and discursive as that of a mimic who runs over the world. He has seen the Americans in their best light, and he judges them with the most sympathetic indulgence; they applauded him, he likes them for it. Nobody is more democratic than an actor. The habitude of a crowd: the subservience to the mass, the apparent worship which bends the knee of the noblest and worthiest-of Talma, Garrick, Kemble, are all essentially democratic. You must oppose Power to Hall and Marryatt to learn the merits and qualities of the citizens of America, generally too severely judged by the English.

Captain Basil Hall is of that race, now perishing in England, which could only be produced on an island, and which we see in the earliest British civilization; a race which loves to see for the mere pleasure of seeing, to "see-sights," an exclusively English expression. "Since my infancy," said the Captain, "I determined to see certain curiosities, and I have seen them." These curiosities were Japan, America, Egypt, and Polynesia. If all have badly understood and so superficially judged the United States, at least the parallel study of their narratives is important, they contradict and so explain one another.

The democratic element, detaching itself from the other elements of the British Constitution, took refuge in the 17th century in America. There, it does its work alone, and exhibits the singular spectacle at which we are looking. As the same element, in the 18th century, became extrava

gant in France and produced moral effects by which we are still governed, it happened that on two sides of the Atlantic, the country of Franklin and that of Mirabeau and Camille Desmoulins walked in the same road. How can America not insult England? She represents the puritan, rebellious, democratic portion, which would not live at peace with the British aristocracy How could France help becoming fevered by hatred and ancient vengeance? She represents the Third estate, so long time in servitude, and now triumphant with a heart full of bitterest gall. The American Demoracy must cross the ocean to confront the old enemy; France need not go so far. In many things, especially in the least worthy, the two countries are alike.

The most of our defects are American. In that country as in ours words are large and phrases grandiloquent. We call an apothecary a pharmacien ; we have no more grocers, but in gilt letters on a red sign, we read "Universal Commerce of Colonial Products." The Americans, like us have two or three thousand men of genius in prose and verse; they speak proudly of their three hundred best poets. They despise, insult and manage each other as we do, like us they mutually fear and compliment each other. They have the inconveniences as well as the advantages of democracy of which they have too the reality-what for them is a cradle will be for us a tomb, if we be not careful.

There are some singular resemblances in pronunciation. The English say tchivalry, the French, chevalerie, the Americans shivalry. The identity of results prove that the identity of institutions merits close observation. Tyrone Power arrived at New York, fancied himself on some unknown portion of the Boulevard. All that we fear for France manifests itself already, in North America; levelling of capacities ; reign of money; boasting; deterioration of products to

remedy deterioration of price; neglect of women, honored and set aside; habit of doing nothing for the future; improvisation, rapidity, lightness; singular vices, which you would not have believed possible in a Saxon people, but the influence of political institutions is inevitable.

Between America and us is all the distance which separates extreme youth from extreme age. We are embarrassed by our Past, the Americans because they have none. We sweep clean our ruins, they dig foundations in a virgin soil. Our history is a drama, ever growing more complicated, with its numberless springs. America is a prologue. We have too many souvenirs and acquisitions; there is something provisional and incomplete in that immense and ever active fabric called the United States; for it is so much a work-shop, a furnace, a laboratory for the future manufacture of a yet unknown civilization; so little a finished country, complete, possessing all the results of definitive societics, that no sooner have they made a fortune there, than they come to enjoy it in Europe. Sanderson reproaches the elite of his fellow-citizens with their taste for Europe, "where it became daily more and more the habit to go and live." The Americans could reply that that preparatory and restless life, that existence of harassed and wandering artisan, that breathless race after fortune and enterprize, offer few charms to the philosopher, few leisures to the meditative man. A society in its infancy marches much and blunderingly, loves action and exercise for themselves, eats and goes rapidly, knows no Past, nor knows how to educate women, give them their place, elevate their minds, refine their manners.

Thus North America is plunged in admiration before the sex, admiration without discernment, instinct rather than preference. This position of women in America has greatly occupied travellers. They are honored and isolated; amiable

and without influence; read much and have few ideas-even Miss Martineau cannot explain this enigma.

SECTION III.

JUDGMENT OF ENGLISH TRAVELLERS IN AMERICA-WOMAN----BLUÉ LAWS—PURITAN AUSTERITY—JUDICIARY ANECDOtes.

The condition of woman is, in every country, the certain sign of the degree of civilization to which that country has arrived. Woman is nothing to the savage; a slave at the outset of civilization, she acquires her rights and her value, as she passes the successive degrees, which efface the tyranny of physical force and give supremacy to the intellectual. Not to crush the feebler being; to give her her share of the sunlight, to recognize her privileges and assign her an influence, is the symptom of a highly-perfected society which recognizes. that the law of the body is the law of the brute. There comes a moment when civilization is ruined by excess, degrades itself by over-refinement, till one is not content to protect the feeble creature, but teaches her to make up for her feebleness by voluptuousness. This epoch of gallantry and decadence attains, at last, the same result as the savage life, to wit, degradation of woman, promiscuous mingling of the sexes, and confusion of duties. The beautiful time, the sane and glorious epoch, is when, according to the condition of each society, everything takes its natural place; when the woman is no more a mere nurse or slave, or faithful guardian