Portalis is a man of grave, respectable appearance, about fifty years old, and so shortsighted, as to be nearly blind. As soon as he ascended the rostrum, the utmost silence prevailed, and the legislators seemed to listen with that profound attention, which is only given to those from whom we expect either amusement or instruction. As for me, I received both from his discourse; and I do not remember to have been yet so well contented with a public speaker in France. He spoke for rather more than an hour and a half, without notes and without hesitation. He explained with precision, the principles and the heads of the code, which he was ordered to lay before the legislature; and while he was clear and intelligible in every part of his speech, he was frequently extremely eloquent. His principal aim seemed to be, as he expressed it, “de profiter des lumières de notre temps, mais pas de les avancer[34].” He particularly recommended a system of laws, corresponding with those of other nations, and which should strengthen the ties of matrimony, and the security of domestic happiness. Among the many strong expressions, with which his speech abounded, I remarked the following. “_Pour aimer le monde entier, on peut dire, il faut aimer premièrement sa patrie, mais celui qui commencerait à aimer le monde entier, finira à n’aimer aucun pays[35]. La philosophie a fait son devoir, c’est à vous, citoyens législateurs, d’achever le votre. La philosophie commence à faire le bonheur des hommes, mais c’est la législation qui l’acheve, &c._” The legislature ordered his speech to be printed, and adjourned.