itans, with their Old-Saxon temper, Old-Hebrew culture,
sleek Silas, sleek Benjamin, here on such errand, among the light
children of Heathenism, Monarchy, Sentimentalism, and the Scarlet-woman.
A spectacle indeed; over which saloons may cackle joyous; though Kaiser
Joseph, questioned on it, gave this answer, most unexpected from a
Philosophe: "Madame, the trade I live by is that of royalist (Mon metier
a moi c'est d'etre royaliste)."

So thinks light Maurepas too; but the wind of Philosophism and force of
public opinion will blow him round. Best wishes, meanwhile, are sent;
clandestine privateers armed. Paul Jones shall equip his Bon Homme
Richard: weapons, military stores can be smuggled over (if the English
do not seize them); wherein, once more Beaumarchais, dimly as the Giant
Smuggler becomes visible,--filling his own lank pocket withal. But
surely, in any case, France should have a Navy. For which great object
were not now the time: now when that proud Termagant of the Seas has her
hands full? It is true, an impoverished Treasury cannot build ships;
but the hint once given (which Beaumarchais says he gave), this and the
other loyal Seaport, Chamber of Commerce, will build and offer them.
Goodly vessels bound into the waters; a Ville de Paris, Leviathan of
ships.

And now when gratuitous three-deckers dance there at anchor, with
streamers flying; and eleutheromaniac Philosophedom grows ever more
clamorous, what can a Maurepas do--but gyrate? Squadrons cross the
ocean: Gages, Lees, rough Yankee Generals, 'with woollen night-caps
under their hats,' present arms to the far-glancing Chivalry of France;
and new-born Democracy sees, not without amazement, 'Despotism tempered
by Epigrams fight at her side. So, however, it is. King's forces and
heroic volunteers; Rochambeaus, Bouilles, Lameths, Lafayettes, have
drawn their swords in this sacred quarrel of mankind;--shall draw them
again elsewhere, in the strangest way.

Off Ushant some naval thunder is heard. In the course of which did
our young Prince, Duke de Chartres, 'hide in the hold;' or did he
materially, by active heroism, contribute to the victory? Alas, by a
second edition, we learn that there was no victory; or that English
Keppel had it. (27th July, 1778.) Our poor young Prince gets his
Opera plaudits changed into mocking tehees; and cannot become
Grand-Admiral,--the source to him of woes which one may call endless.

Woe also for Ville de Paris, the Leviath