There are _Liancourt_, and _La Rochefoucault;_ the liberal Anglomaniac Dukes. There is a filially pious _Lally;_ a couple of liberal _Lameths_. Above all, there is a _Lafayette;_ whose name shall be Cromwell-Grandison, and fill the world. Many a “formula” has this Lafayette too made away with; yet not _all_ formulas. He sticks by the Washington-formula; and by that he will stick;—and hang by it, as by sure bower-anchor hangs and swings the tight war-ship, which, after all changes of wildest weather and water, is found still hanging. Happy for him; be it glorious or not! Alone of all Frenchmen he has a theory of the world, and right mind to conform thereto; he can become a hero and perfect character, were it but the hero of one idea. Note further our old Parlementary friend, _Crispin-Catiline d’Espréménil_. He is returned from the Mediterranean Islands, a redhot royalist, repentant to the finger-ends;—unsettled-looking; whose light, dusky-glowing at best, now flickers foul in the socket; whom the National Assembly will by and by, to save time, “regard as in a state of distraction.” Note lastly that globular _Younger_ Mirabeau; indignant that his elder Brother is among the Commons: it is _Viscomte_ Mirabeau; named oftener Mirabeau _Tonneau_ (Barrel Mirabeau), on account of his rotundity, and the quantities of strong liquor he contains. There then walks our French Noblesse. All in the old pomp of chivalry: and yet, alas, how changed from the old position; drifted far down from their native latitude, like Arctic icebergs got into the Equatorial sea, and fast thawing there! Once these Chivalry _Duces_ (Dukes, as they are still named) did actually _lead_ the world,—were it only towards battle-spoil, where lay the world’s best wages then: moreover, being the ablest Leaders going, they had their lion’s share, those _Duces;_ which none could grudge them. But now, when so many Looms, improved Ploughshares, Steam-Engines and Bills of Exchange have been invented; and, for battle-brawling itself, men hire Drill-Sergeants at eighteen-pence a-day,—what mean these goldmantled Chivalry Figures, walking there “in black-velvet cloaks,” in high-plumed “hats of a feudal cut”? Reeds shaken in the wind!