The English have the habit of making themselves at home everywhere, but, above all, in places where they pay. Nothing is so repugnant to them as those thousand and one little tyrannies that go by the names of regulations, restrictions, rules, by-laws, etc. If you would be unhampered by such, if you would enjoy perfect freedom, live in England.
No one doubts that England is the freest country on earth, not even our staunchest French republicans.
A few months before his election to the presidency of the French Republic, M. Jules Grévy was present one evening at a political dinner in the beautiful mansion of the Vicomtesse de Rainneville. At this epoch, things scarcely seemed to point to the future elevation of M. Grévy; and as M. de Grandlieu, who told the anecdote in the Figaro, maliciously said, if the Orleans Princes had displayed a little more resolution, M. Grévy would probably never have known any other palace than the one in which his pleadings failed to awaken the judges.
After dinner, in the elegant smoking-room, one of the guests drew M. Grévy aside, and said to him:
"Well, sir, seeing the turn things are taking, have you not enough of the Republic?"
"On the contrary, I have just returned from a country where I have learned to appreciate it more."
"Where is it you have been? to Switzerland?"
"No, a little further."
"Not America?"