It is only since that period that bishops have mutually applied to each other the title of monseigneur.

The public made no objection to this application of it; but, as it was a new title, not conferred on bishops by kings, they continued to be called sieurs, in edicts, declarations, ordinances, and all official documents; and, when the council write to a bishop, they give him no higher title than monsieur.

The dukes and peers have encountered more difficulty in acquiring possession of the title of monseigneur. The grande noblesse, and what is called the grand robe, decidedly refuse them that distinction, The highest gratification of human pride consists in a man's receiving titles of honour from those who conceive themselves his equals; but to attain this is exceedingly difficult: pride always finds pride to contend with.*

*Louis XIV. decided that the untitled nobility should give the title of monseigneur to marshals of France, and the decision was submitted to without difficulty. Every one hoped to attain that honour in his turn..

The same prince conferred on some families peculiar prerogatives. Those bestowed on the house of Lorraine have produced several claims; and at present, the pride of a gentleman easily induces him to class himself with the descendants of a house unquestionably sovereign for the space of seven centuries, which has conferred on France two queens, and which, finally, is established on the imperial throne.

The honours of the houses of Bouillon and Rohan have sustained greater difficulties. It cannot be denied that they existed for a long time without being distinguished from the rest of the nobility. Other families have attained the possession of small sovereignties, like that of Bouillon. A great number might likewise exhibit high alliances; and if a distinguished rank were bestowed on all whom genealogists have discovered to descend from the ancient sovereigns of our provinces, there would be almost as many highnesses as there are marquises or

counts.

Louis XIV. ordered the secretaries of state to give the titles of monseigneur and highness to the gentlemen of those two houses; but the secretaries, who had been taken from the nobility, considered themselves absolved, in consequence of their rank as gentlemen, from the observance of the order. Louvois submitted to it; and once wrote to the chevalier de Bouillon as follows:-"My lord, if your highness does not alter your conduct, I will have you shut up in a dungeon. I am, with respect, &c."

When the dukes insisted on receiving the title of monseigneur from the class of gentlemen, the presi dents of the parliaments required the same from advocates and proctors. A certain president actually refused to be bled, because his surgeon asked-" In which arm will you be bled, monsieur?"-An old counsellor treated this matter somewhat more gaily. A pleader was saying to him-" monseigneur, monsieur your secretary" He stopped him short:— "You have uttered three blunders," says he, "in as many words. I am not monseigneur; my secretary is not monsieur; he is my clerk.”

To put an end to this grand conflict of vanity, it will eventually be found necessary to give the title of monseigneur to every individual in the nation; as women, who were formerly content with mademoiselle, are now to be called madame. In Spain, when a mendicant meets a brother beggar, he thus accosts him: "Has your courtesy taken chocolate?"—This politeness of language elevates the mind, and keeps up the dignity of the species. Cæsar and Pompey were called in the senate, Cæsar and Pompey. But these men knew nothing of life. They ended their letters with vale-adieu. We, who possess more exalted notions, were, sixty years ago, "affectionate servants;" then,

very humble and very obedient;" and now, we "have the honour to be" so. I really grieve for our posterity: they will find it extremely difficult to add to these very beautiful formulas. The duke d'Epernon, the first of Gascons in pride, though far from being the first of statesmen, wrote, on his death-bed, to cardinal Richelieu, and ended his letter withYour very humble and very obedient."-Recollecting, however,

At present, those princes never answer any letters in which the titles of monseigneur and highness are not given them; unless, indeed, they have occasion for the services of the writers and the nobility refuse to give them either, unless they experience a similar necessity. When a gentleman possessing any share of vanity has to transact business with them, he permits them to use as many titles as they like, but never fails to protest against these titles to his notary. Vanity has two vessels, like Jupiter; but the good one is often very empty.

that the cardinal had used only the phrase " very affectionate," he dispatched an express to bring back the letter (for it had been actually sent off) began it anew, signed "very affectionate," and died in the bed of honour.

We have made many of these observations elsewhere. It is well, however, to repeat them, were it only to correct some pompous peacocks, who would strut away their lives in contemptibly displaying their plumes and their pride.

CERTAIN-CERTAINTY.

I AM certain; I have friends; my fortune is secure ; my relations will never abandon me; I shall have justice done me; my work is good; it will be well received; what is owing to me will be paid me; my friend will be faithful, he has sworn it; the minister will advance me- he has, by the way, promised it ;all these are words which a man who has lived a short time in the world erases from his dictionary.

When the judges condemned L'Anglade, Le Brun, Calas, Sirven, Martin, Montbailli, and so many others, since acknowledged to have been innocent, they were certain, or they ought to have been certain, that all these unhappy men were guilty; yet they were deceived.

There are two ways of being deceived; by false judgment and self-blindness-that of erring like a man of genius, and that of deciding like a fool.

The judges deceived themselves like men of genius in the affair of L'Anglade: they were blinded by dazzling appearances, and did not sufficiently examine the probabilities on the other side. Their wisdom made them believe it certain that L'Anglade had committed a theft, which he certainly had not committed; and on this miserable uncertain certainty of the human mind, a gentleman was put to the ordinary and extraordinary question; subsequently thrown, without succour, into a dungeon, and condemned to the gallies,

where he died. His wife was shut up in another dun. geon, with her daughter, aged seven years, who afterwards married a counsellor of the same parliament which had condemned her father to the gallies, and her mother to banishment.*

It is clear that the judges would not have pronounced this sentence, had they been really certain. How ever, even at the time this sentence was passed, se veral persons knew that the theft had been committed by a priest named Gagnat, associated with a highwayman; and the innocence of L'Anglade was not recognised till after his death.

They were in the same manner certain, when, by a sentence in the first instance, they condemned to the wheel the innocent Le Brun, who, by an arrêt pronounced on his appeal, was broken on the rack, and died under the torture.

The examples of Calas and Sirven are well known: that of Martin is less so. He was an honest agriculturist, near Bar, in Lorraine. A villain stole his dress, and in this dress murdered a traveller whom he knew to have money, and whose route he had watched. Martin was accused; his dress deposed against him : the judges regarded this evidence as a certainty. Not the past conduct of the prisoner, a numerous family whom he had brought up virtuously, neither the little money found on him, nor the extreme probability of his innocence—nothing could save him. The subaltern judge made a merit of his rigour. He condemned the innocent victim to be broken on the wheel; and, by an unhappy fatality, the sentence was executed to the full extent. The senior Martin is broken alive, calling God to witness his innocence to his last breath: his family is dispersed, his little property is confis cated, and scarcely are his broken members exposed

* The horrible case of Mons. L'Anglade, in which a nobleman of the ancient regime of France is exhibited in the most contemptible and atrocious light, is related in the Causes Célèbres; and in the little work by Charlotte Smith, which is à selection from it, entitled "The Romance of real Life."-T.

on the great road, when the assassin who had committed the murder and theft is put in prison for another crime, and confessed on the rack, to which he was condemned in his turn, that he only was guilty of the crime for which Martin had suffered torture and death.

Montbailli, who slept with his wife, was accused with having, in concert with her, killed his mother, who had evidently died of apoplexy. The council of Arras condemned Montbailli to expire on the rack, and his wife to be burnt. Their innocence was discovered, but not till Montbailli had been tortured.

Let us cease advertence to these melancholy adventures, which make us groan at the human condition; but let us continue to lament the pretended certainty of judges, when they pass such sentences.

There is no certainty, except when it is physically or morally impossible that the thing can be otherwise. What! is a strict demonstration necessary to enable us to assert, that the surface of a sphere is equal to four times the area of its great circle; and is not one required to warrant taking away the life of a citizen by a disgraceful punishment?

If such is the misfortune of humanity that judges must be contented with extreme probabilities, they should at least consult the age, the rank, the conduct of the accused the interest which he could have in committing the crime, and the interest of his enemies to destroy him. Every judge should say to himself,-Will not posterity, will not entire Europe condemn my sentence? Shall I sleep tranquilly with my hands tainted with innocent blood?

Let us pass from this horrible picture to other examples of a certainty, which leads directly to error.

Why art thou loaded with chains, fanatical and unhappy Santon? Why hast thou added a large iron ring on thy miserable scourge? It is because I am certain of being one day placed in the first heaven, by the side of our great prophet. Alas, my friend, come with me to the neighbourhood of Mount Athos, and thou wilt