of Mesmer and of Cagliostro, was almost single-handed in the Parliament in his opposition to the registration of the edict.  Extending his hand towards the crucifix, he exclaimed with violence:  “Would you crucify him a second time?” The court was a better judge of Christian principles, and Protestants were permitted to be born, to marry, and to die on French territory.  The edict did not as yet concede to them any other right.

The contest extended as it grew hotter; everywhere the parliaments took up the quarrel of the court of Paris; the formation of the provincial assemblies furnished new centres of opposition; the petty noblesse made alliance with the magistracy; the antagonism of principles became every day more evident; after the five months elapsed since the royal session, the Parliament was still protesting against the violence done to it.  “I had no need to take or count the votes,” said the king’s reply; “being present at the deliberation, I judged for myself without taking any account of plurality.  If plurality in my courts were to force my will, the monarchy would be nothing but an aristocracy of magistrates.”  “No, sir, no aristocracy in France, but no despotism either,” replied the members of parliament.

The indiscretion of a printer made M. d’Espremesnil acquainted with the great designs which were in preparation; at his instigation the Parliament issued a declaration as to the reciprocal rights and duties of the monarch and the nation.  “France,” said the resolution, “is a monarchy hereditary from male to male, governed by the king following the laws; it has for fundamental laws the nation’s right to freely grant subsidies by means of the States-general convoked and composed according to regulation, the customs and capitulations of the provinces, the irremovability of the magistrates, the right of the courts to enregister edicts, and that of each citizen to be judged only by his natural judges, without liability ever to be arrested arbitrarily.”  “The magistrates must cease to exist before the nation ceases to be free,” said a second protest.

Bold and defiant in its grotesque mixture of the ancient principles of the magistracy with the novel theories of philosophy, the resolution of the Parliament was quashed by the king.  Orders were given to arrest M. d’Espremesnil and a young councillor, Goislard de Montsabert, who had proposed an inquiry into the conduct of the comptrollers commissioned to collect the second twentieth.  The police of the Parliament was perfect and vigilant; the two magistrates were warned and took refuge in the Palace of Justice; all the chambers were assembled and the peers convoked.  Ten or a dozen appeared, notwithstanding the king’s express prohibition.

The Parliament had placed the two threatened members “under the protection of the king and of the law;” the premier president, at the head of a deputation, had set out for Versailles to demand immunity for the accused; the court was in session awaiting his return.