ut suspicion, in the public mind,
as well as in that of the triumphant party. I was intimately acquainted
with M. de Marbois; I had frequently met him at the houses of
Madame de Rumford and Madame Suard. He belonged to that old France
which, in a spirit of generous liberality, had adopted and upheld, with
enlightened moderation, the principles most cherished by the France of
the day. I held under him, in the capacity of a confidential friend, the
post of Secretary-General to the Ministry of Justice, to which
M. Pasquier, then keeper of the great seal, had nominated me under the
Cabinet of M. de Talleyrand. Hardly was the new minister installed in
office, when the Chamber of Deputies assembled, and in its turn
established itself. It was almost exclusively Royalist. With
considerable difficulty, a few men, members of other parties, had
obtained entrance into its ranks. They found themselves in a state of
perpetual discomfort, isolated and ill at ease, as though they were
strangers of suspicious character; and when they endeavoured to declare
themselves and explain their sentiments, they were roughly driven back
into impotent silence. On the 23rd of October, 1815, in the debate on
the Bill presented by M. Decazes for the temporary suspension of
personal liberty, M. d'Argenson spoke of the reports which had been
spread abroad respecting the massacre of Protestants in the south. A
violent tumult arose in contradiction of his statements; he explained
himself with great reserve. "I name no facts," replied he, "I bring
forward no charges; I merely say that vague and contradictory rumours
have reached me; ... the very vagueness of these rumours calls for a report
from the minister, on the state of the kingdom." M. d'Argenson was not
only defeated in his object, and interrupted in his speech, but he was
expressly called to order for having alluded to facts unfortunately too
certain, but which the Government wished to smother up by silencing all
debate on the question.

For the first time in five-and-twenty years, the Royalists saw
themselves in the ascendant. Thoroughly believing that they had obtained
a legitimate triumph, they indulged unreservedly in the enjoyment of
power, with a mixture of aristocratic arrogance and new-born zeal, as
men do when little accustomed to victory, and doubtful of the strength
they are so eager to display.

Very opposite causes plunged the Chamber of 1815 into the extreme
reaction which has stamp