What will not people bless; in their extreme need?  Seldom had the Parlement of Paris deserved much blessing, or received much.  An isolated Body-corporate, which, out of old confusions (while the Sceptre of the Sword was confusedly struggling to become a Sceptre of the Pen), had got itself together, better and worse, as Bodies-corporate do, to satisfy some dim desire of the world, and many clear desires of individuals; and so had grown, in the course of centuries, on concession, on acquirement and usurpation, to be what we see it:  a prosperous social Anomaly, deciding Lawsuits, sanctioning or rejecting Laws; and withal disposing of its places and offices by sale for ready money,—­which method sleek President Henault, after meditation, will demonstrate to be the indifferent-best. (Abrege Chronologique, p. 975.)

In such a Body, existing by purchase for ready-money, there could not be excess of public spirit; there might well be excess of eagerness to divide the public spoil.  Men in helmets have divided that, with swords; men in wigs, with quill and inkhorn, do divide it:  and even more hatefully these latter, if more peaceably; for the wig-method is at once irresistibler and baser.  By long experience, says Besenval, it has been found useless to sue a Parlementeer at law; no Officer of Justice will serve a writ on one; his wig and gown are his Vulcan’s-panoply, his enchanted cloak-of-darkness.

The Parlement of Paris may count itself an unloved body; mean, not magnanimous, on the political side.  Were the King weak, always (as now) has his Parlement barked, cur-like at his heels; with what popular cry there might be.  Were he strong, it barked before his face; hunting for him as his alert beagle.  An unjust Body; where foul influences have more than once worked shameful perversion of judgment.  Does not, in these very days, the blood of murdered Lally cry aloud for vengeance?  Baited, circumvented, driven mad like the snared lion, Valour had to sink extinguished under vindictive Chicane.  Behold him, that hapless Lally, his wild dark soul looking through his wild dark face; trailed on the ignominious death-hurdle; the voice of his despair choked by a wooden gag!  The wild fire-soul that has known only peril and toil; and, for threescore years, has buffeted against Fate’s obstruction and men’s perfidy, like genius and courage amid poltroonery, dishonesty and commonplace; faithfully enduring and endeavouring,—­O Parlement of Paris, dost thou reward it with a gibbet and a gag? (9th May, 1766:  Biographie Universelle, para Lally.) The dying Lally bequeathed his memory to his boy; a young Lally has arisen, demanding redress in the name of God and man.  The Parlement of Paris does its utmost to defend the indefensible, abominable; nay, what is singular, dusky-glowing Aristogiton d’Espremenil is the man chosen to be its spokesman in that.

Such Social Anomaly is it that France now blesses.  An unclean Social Anomaly; but in duel against another worse!  The exiled Parlement is felt to have ‘covered itself with glory.’  There are quarrels in which even Satan, bringing help, were not unwelcome; even Satan, fighting stiffly, might cover himself with glory,—­of a temporary sort.