What a strange people are the French? Do I see the same nation who put Louis XVI to death, and who have, with such daring courage, opposed the return of the house of Bourbon, shed tears at a similar story, and enthusiastically support the sentiments of this play, founded not only on an attachment to monarchy, but on principles of indefeasible right? Again, do I see the same people, who a few years back permitted their best and worthiest citizens, however guiltless, to fall in crowds under the axe of the guillotine, and at the nod of a contemptible petty tyrant; I say, do I see the same people commiserate the sufferings of an abdicated prince, and loudly applaud a sentiment which justly declares, that to wish the death of any one is a base, an unmanly, and an unnatural action? But I am going out of my element. I return to the play. It was received with more and more admiration at every line, and when the curtain at last dropped, the applause increased, and continued for several minutes uninterruptedly. The author was called for, and proved to be one of the actors of the house, who, as if inconsistencies of all kinds were to be reconciled on this occasion, was formerly a violent jacobin. The play was acted a second night, with the omission of “God save the king,” and the sentiment about the toast; and to day it is at last forbidden. The royalists are excessively irritated at the prohibition, but how was it possible to suffer in a republic a performance, every word of which expressed respect for royalty, and pity for a proscribed family? In England, where, thank God! liberty is less shackled than in this country, and where our ideas of government are more fixed, should we suffer on our stage a play which recommended republican doctrines? The answer is plain. I believe this is the right way of judging every question. Viewing it in this light, I think, that if the consuls had any fault, it was in suffering “Edward” to be acted. In stopping it they have only done their duty. I am, &c. LETTER XVIII. _The carnival._—Masks in all the streets.—Account of the different characters, processions, &c.—Masqued ball at the opera house. Paris, february the 25th, 1802 (6 ventose). MY DEAR SIR,