"At London the French labor under two subjects of anxiety, caused by their national prejudices. Accustomed to consider themselves as the first people in the world, to dazzle some, to despise others, and to display every where the confident pride of their supremacy, they, on treading the British soil, experience the impression of a greatness not borrowed from them; they are astonished at finding a people as remarkable as ours, as original as we are, and carrying to a still prouder degree the sentiment of their pre-eminence. Then our countrymen become disquieted; the intolerance of their national faith becomes mitigated; they are ill at ease, and for the first time in their lives feel constraint. Ceasing to believe themselves amongst slaves as in Italy, amongst vassals as in Belgium, or amongst innkeepers as in Switzerland or Germany, they endeavor to resemble sovereigns visiting other sovereigns, and by forced politeness render them involuntary homage."
Feeling of the English toward the French--
"They honor us with a marked attention, though they are indifferent to the rest of mankind. Our opinions respecting them cause them anxiety. They either admire us enthusiastically, or disparage us bitterly; but, in reality, they are obsequious and servile toward us!"
After a good deal of the numerous statues to Wellington, this at English admiration of Waterloo--
"The trumpet of Waterloo which has been sounded in London every where incessantly, and in every tone, during thirty-five years, diminishes the grandeur of the English nation. This intoxication seems that of a people who, never having won more than one battle, and despairing to conquer a second time, cannot recover from their surprise, nor bear in patience an unhoped-for glory."
"Public opinion has avenged the prisoner of St Helena; but does it follow that in 1815 the English protested with sufficient energy against his imprisonment! No. Englishmen are naturally indifferent and indulgent as regards their foreign neighbors, so long as patriotism or private interest is not at stake. Napoleon was the most terrible of their enemies; he placed England within ten steps of bankruptcy, and seriously menaced national manufactures. Not possessed of military instinct, the English do not pretend to chivalrous generosity. On the fall of the Empire, caused by the implacable perseverance of coalitions, the nation remembered that the Hundred Days cost its government a million an hour, and so long as the deficit was not made up, their resentment underwent no diminution. But now if you celebrate his glory before them, they will not display hostility. You must not, however, touch the till of this tribe of tradesmen, or they will be your bitter enemies. And the proof that they are nothing but shopkeepers is that their first functionary sits in a gilded arm chair on a wool-sack."