FAMOUS FEENCH AUTHOES BIOGRAPHICAL PORTRAITS DISTINGUISHED FRENCH WRITERS THEOPHILE GAUTIER EUGENE DE MIRECOURT ETC., ETC. NEW YORK E. WORTHINGTON, 750 BKOADWAT 1880 COPTBIOHT BY B. WOKTHINGTON. TBOW'S PBINTING AND BooKBrsniKG Co., 205-213 East 12*A St., NEW YORK. CONTENTS. MM THEOPHILE GAUTIER. . By Sainte-Beuve, . . .7 SAINTE-BEUVE. . . By Eugene de Mirecourt, . . 27 MADAME SWETCHINE. . By M. de Pontmartin, . . 39 MADAME DE GIRARDIN (Delphine Gay). By Imbert Saint- Amand, . . . . . . .56 ARSENE HOUSSAYE. . By Eugene de Mirecourt, . . 70 GEORGE SAND. . . By Eugene de Mirecourt, . . 85 ALFRED DE MTUSET. . By Paul de Musset. . . 102 VICTOR HUGO. . . By Eugene de Mirecourt, . . 119 PAUL DE KOCK. . . By Theophile Gautier, . . 139 ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE. By Theophile Gautier, . . 145 GAVARNI. . . .By Theophile Gautier, . . 156 CHARLES BAUDELAIRE. . By Theophile Gautier. . . 168 HONORE DE BALZAC. . By Theophile Gautier, . . 174 BERANGER. . . By Theophile Gautier, . . 252 BRIZEUX. . . . By Eugene de Mirecourt, . . 256 HENRI MONNIER. . . By Eugene de Mirecourt, . . 259 ALEXANDRE DUMAS. . By Percy Fitzgerald, . . 264 MAURICE DE GUERIN. . By Matthew Arnold, . . 272 DENIS DIDEROT. . . By John Morley, . . .307 JEAN DE LA FONTAINE. . 319 Note. These articles, except the last four, are now translated for the first time, by FBANCIS A. SHAW. LIFE PORTEAITS OF FAMOUS FRENCH AUTHORS. THEOPHILE GAUTIER.* I. THEOPHILE GAUTIER was born at Tarbes, August 31st, 1811. When three years old, he went to live in Paris, we might say he returned there, so much is he a part of Paris. He writes of himself, " I learned to read at the age of five years, and after that time, I could say with Apelles, Nulla dies sine linea. He took his first lessons at the college of Louis le Grand, and ended' them as day-pupil at Charlemagne. His father, a very good lin- guist, assisted him in Latin ; but the boy's taste was not for the purely classic authors. Livy and Cicero wearied him ; Martial, and Catullus, Apuleius and Petronius, were his delight. So dear to him were these writers of the decadence, that he sought to imitate them in all varieties of metre. Scarce had he left school when he began to draw and * Nouveaux Luudis. Sainte-Beuve. 8 LIFE PORTRAITS. to write verses. His first poem was an imitation of Hero and Leander ; he also undertook in heroic verse, a poem upon the abduction of Helen. He had written two and a half cantos, when his taste having in some degree ripened, he threw the verses into the fire. He then turned his attention to Brantome, to Rabelais, and various other French authors. In his last college year, he gave up his morning reci- tation to take lessons of Rioult, a painter of Prudhon's school who had won considerable reputation by two or three fine pictures. Gautier was then living with his parents at Place Royale, No. 8. Two or three years later, Victor Hugo took up his abode at No. 6. He and Gautier met for the first time in 1830, and the ardent, impulsive student was easily induced to join the Hernani, that clique of robust, brilliant young men, renowned in all sorts of athletic exercises, and as romancists, waging a war against the classic school, fierce as any contest Guelph ever waged against Ghibeline. Victor Hugo was chosen leader of this band, and never was god adored with more fervor. It was as painter and art-pupil, and not as literary man, that Gautier then figured ; he was hesitating be- tween the two careers. In July 1830, he published a small collection of verses, "Poems by Thdophile Gautier" was its title, and its motto : Oh ! sijepuis unjour ! Thus in the new poetic school, he ranks in date immediately after Alfred de Musset. Gautier was then not quite nineteen years old. This little volume has a nameless charm. Here the poet appears " under a blonde aureole of adolescence," which he did not long retain. The collection thus opena with a sigh and a regret : THEOPniLE GAUTIER. 9 Virginite du cceur, he las si tdt ravie ! Songis riants, projets dc bonlicur cl d'amour, Fraiches illusions du matin de la vie, Pourquoine pas dtsrer Jwftju'h la Jin du jour ? * And then come childish loves, sweet, smiling land- scapes, roads winding through sunny valleys, a path along the hedge and the brook-side, leading directly to the little park gate to which attaches a tender remem- brance. There are steeples pointing to heaven as in Wordsworth, and cathedral towers, and Gothic silhou ettes, their stony lattice-work outlined against the glow of the setting sun. All is in its infancy, but even in the whiteness of this dawn, the treatment is pure, clear, and unhesitating, the verse perfect in form and rhythm. A second edition of Gautier's poems, which appeared in 1830, bore the title, " Albertus, a Theological Legend," being named for the principal poem. Here we find that Theophile Gautier has become a master, and the ques- tion constantly recurs: why, although his poetry is equal to Musset's, was his success so long confined to a narrow circle of artists and connoisseurs ? The French public, it would seem, can tolerate but one poet at a time. Flitting between the studio and the literary Cenade, Gautier for some time pursued the two arts with equal ardor, and even when he abandoned painting, the divorce did not remain entire; he still painted with his pen. His "Young France," published in 1833, is a sort of album of fashions, costumes and travesties of that day. About this time he went to lodge with some friends in the blind-alley of Doyenne", that relic of old Paris, that lost, forgotten islet in a corner of the Place de "Carrousel, which ere long become the head-quarters of * Virginity of the heart so soon ravished ! Laughing dreams, projects of happiness and of love, fresh illusions of life's morning, why do ye not endure to the end of the day ? 1* 10 LIFE PORTRAITS. "Young France." In this world of aspiring artists and literary men, it was the fashion to put on feiocious airs, to feel it almost dishonor to be moved at anything. Its device might have been those oft-quoted words of Ter- ence slightly varied ; " I am .. man, and consequently I interest myself in nothing human." Here politics were spit upon as vulgar and degrading ; here Fancy, muse of art, was held in highest honor, and when one of the members withdrew from this society so perfectly harmless in its furies, to enter the real outside life of violence, conspiracy and hatred, what sweet, amiable verses The'ophile Gautier would address to him, calling him back to nature and its twin sister, art ! Mademoiselle de Maupin may be considered The'ophile Gautier's first prose work. He devoted two years to its composition, and it appeared in 1836. It is a book strik- ing both in plot and execution, the work of an artist and a poet, but it cannot be recommended to young lady readers. Every physician of the soul, every moralist, should keep a copy of it on a back shelf of his library. " The Comedy of Death," which appeared in 1838, shows a deeper and truer development in our artist and poet. This poem is a series of mournful evocations after a walk to the cemetery on All Souls' Day. Raphael Faust, Don Juan, Napoleon himself, appear by turns, before the eyes of our poet, Who demands from them their secret of life and death. But none of these great ones who has come back to him, knows the secret : each send^ him to the other. Faust says ; " Love, and you will do far better than to study." Don Juan says : " Interrogate science, learn,- learn ! You have more opportunity on this side than on mine." Finalty, the great Emperor, having pressed the globe in his hand and found it hollow, begins to envy THEOPHILE GAUTIER. 11 the tattered goat-herd of his native isle. Ever in the midst of feasts, amid the intoxications of worldly pleas- ure, Death suddenly appears before the poet's eyes ; not the death of the ancients, crowned with flowers ana bringing a surcease of care and sorrow, but Death with ghastly visage and ferocious sneer, leaving in your heart an apprehension like that of Hamlet, that the funereal night may not be a long slumber, but a dream, and that all may not end with life. II. The poet in Thdophile Gautier was now ripened and complete ; at first, he had possessed the instrument, he had now gone to the depths of his inspiration, he had made the grand tour. His first journey to Spain, in 1840, had furnished him with new notes of rich and ardent tone, with fresh images and symbols ; henceforth, he would know how to apply all the colors of his pallet. His collection of poems given to the world in 1845, is a full, harmonious work. The poet here has realized his artistic dream. In one of his most beautiful pieces, " The Triumph of Petrarch," he gives us his secret, his method of procedure, which he religiously puts in prac- tice. Addressing himself to the initiated, to poets, he says : Sur I'aittel ide"al entretcnez la flamme, Comme un vase d'albatre ou I'on cache un flambeau, Mettez I'idte au fond de fa forme sculptte Et d'une lampe ardente telairez'le tombeau.* Is he in love, does he suffer? Instead of complaining, * "Maintain the flame upon the ideal altar, As an alabaster vase where we conceal a torch, Place the idea at the depths of the sculptured form, And light the tomb with a glowing lamp." 12 LIFE POETRAITS. of bursting out into tears and sobs, which are unworthy of him and of his creed that the poet must not moan in public, he restrains himself, he has recourse to some image as to a veil, he throws a transparent and fanciful envelope over the naked sentiment ; he knows how to symbolize an unhappy passion under a just and ingenious emblem. In turning over the pages of Gautier's poems, we are more and more astonished that it is not as a poet he has won his highest renown. Is France exclusive in poetry as in religion? M. de Narbonne, conversing with Na- poleon, who had proposed the formation of a national church, said, " There is not religion enough in France to create two churches." Can it be that there is not poetry enough in France to admit of more than one poet at a time ? The bard who has won his first laurels, finds it hard to remain solely a poet in these days. Prose smiles upon him from all sides, under all enticing forms, and finally he yields to her temptations. Balzac having read Mademoi- selle de Maupin, hastened to engage the services of its author on the GJironigue de Paris. To this journal Gau- tier contributed some romances and some critical articles. He wrote also for the evening journal, La Charte, and for Figaro, to which he contributed the " Romance of Fortunio," and other fantastic articles. In 1837, he entered La Presse, where he remained domiciled for many years. Here he became one of that brilliant gal- axy of writers M. Emile de Girardin rallied around him, Madame de Girardin herself wielding the first and most valiant lance. Gautier's twofold career of art and dra- matic critic began regularly for the La Presse, and was never interrupted until the close of his life. In 1855, he became one of the editorial staff of the Moniteur. THEOPHILE GAUTIER. 13 His first critical essays in La Presse were some articles on the paintings of Eugene Delacroix. Soon after he applied himself to theatrical criticism also. In Gautier, we see a poet, that is, a being accustomed to cultivate art and to cherish an ideal, suddenly thrown upon his own resources, and forced to take up the trade of critic for a livelihood. The critiques of artists and poets t teach me," he wrote in after years. " For Geography, which makes a botch of the world, for History which dishonors it, for Philosophy, which doubts God ! I thank you for having withdrawn from my lips, that bitter cup of the Danaides. There we shed all our tears, but the cup is never full." They feared that Arsene was ill ; he was only becom- ing a poet. Like all young poets, he fell in love, and wrote naive, sweet verses to the adored one. She died in early girlhood, but he always wept her in his rhymes, this fair Cecile. Arsene was his mother's idol, and she, in league with the republican grandfather, was in a fair way to spoil the lad, by yielding to all his caprices. But Houssaye pe*re, was made of sterner stuff ; he was a man of un- poetic mould and of inflexible resolution. When he learned that Arsene was given to rhyming, he fell into a terrible rage, and ordered him to abandon all such nonsense. But he who has ascended Parnassus, does not so easily make up his mind to descend. Arsene offered no open resistance to his father's will, but he still paid secret court to the Muse. The master of the house one" day discovered some new verses from his son's pen. The storm broke forth with new fury. Those few volumes of poetry so dear to our young rhymer, were consigned to the flames. Brebo3uf, Saint-Amant, The"o- phile, were roasted without mercy. La Fontaine him- self found no favor in the eyes of this stern contemner 74 LIFE POETRAITS. ^ of the Muses. Never had there been witnessed such an auto-da-fe of poets. Arsene was shut up in his chamber with a treatise on Algebraic Equations, and Condilla's " Art of Thinking," for company. Pen and ink were taken from him, so that he could yield to no temptation to rhyme. Seeing the door of his chamber closed, upon him by a double lock, the lad decamped through the window. His two grandfathers opened their purses to him, and now be- hold our young poet en route for Paris, where he hoped to rhyme in perfect freedom. When he arrived in Paris, the cholera was raging fearfully. It had already carried .off eighteen hundred victims, and at the hotel Malta alone, forty-eight persons had died within a single week. Arsene coming here for lodgings, found only one tenant left, a young Hol- lander named Paul Van del Heyl. As he was about to flee to less dubious quarters, the Hollander smiled and said: " Remain in this house ; Death believes that no person is left here." Van del Heyl was also engaged in literature, and he and Arsene became friends at once. The Houssaye, who has since grown so impassioned for art, had little respect for it at this time. With his new friend Paul, he com- posed a melodrama full of murders and all sorts of ' crime. The two young men also wrote verses for the street singers, which sold marvellously well, thanks to their pompous title: "Songs after the Manner of Be- ranyer" These were only boyish recreations ; the lads were realjy occupied in serious studies. Arsene had found a Greek master, and replnnged into antiquity. As he lived opposite the College de France, he attended the ARSENE HOUSSAYE. 75 lecture-courses. He soon met Roger de Beauvoir and Gavarni, and be had formed some acquaintance with Theophile Gautier, at the Louvre, where that intrepid admirer of form was passing entire days in contemplating a Suzanne at the bath. Gautier ere lonsr introduced him o to several poets, painters, and sculptors, all great lovers of plastic beauty, and pagans to the end of their finger- nails. This pleiad of artists, who fraternized in all sorts of ways, in age, in taste, in beliefs, and especially in want of money, resolved to lodge under the same roof, to share their property in common, and march to glory in a close phalanx. In a sort of ravine, hollowed out between the Louvre and the Place du Carrousel, a narrow street at that time descended to the Seine, its houses, old and black, bearing the architectural seal of the sixteenth century. It was in one of these dwellings that our artist friends set up their household gods. The proprietor unhesitatingly offered them one of his largest appartements, but he bitterly repented when he saw his tenants move in. They had very little in the way of furniture, but they made up for this defici- ency, by cramming their lodgings with paper packages, books, cartoons and easels. Before their windows lay a huge, uncultivated garden, adorned with trees, that had been suffered to branch out in wild luxuriance. Half a dozen horses, two cows and four donkeys grazed at will upon this green sward in the shadow of the virgin forest. Here, too, a brood of hens, led by a high-crested sultan, lived in most amicable relations with a regiment of geese, ducks and Guinea-fowl. You would have said that the antedilu- vian Ark, had rested here in the very centre of Paris, 76 LIFE POKTRAITS. as upon another Mount Ararat, to deposit its motley array of bipeds and quadrupeds. To-day, the ravine is filled, the street is demolished, and the Louvre majestically extends one of its stony wings over the virgin .forest. Soon after the installa- tion of our impoverished young artists in this singular abode, one of their number, Gerard de Norval, fell heir to an inheritance, and Arsene's father, somewhat recon- ciled to his son and to literature, sent him some five- hundred franc notes. All shared in the new riches, and abundance suddenly reigned in this phalanstery of letters. Armed with pencils and brushes, our artists frescoed their ceilings, and covered the wood-work with master- pieces. They soon had a splendid salon, which became the scene of many a jovial reunion. Thtiophile Gautier laid down aesthetic laws for the band, and one of them was that no meagre woman should be admitted to their soirdes. This was a conclave of pagans, of infatuated Atheni- ans, who seemed to believe themselves living in the age of Pericles, and to whom beauty and glory were the highest good. After having gone back twenty-three centuries in their manners and their creeds, they were one day forced to abandon their dream. One of thorn, Edward Ourliac, took refuge in religion, which was most wise, Esquires plunged into politics, which was most imprudent ; others, in materialism, found what they believed to be the true science of living. Each clipped the white wings of his muse, and plunging into active work, became a part of the practical, prosaic days in which he lived. One alone, sought to go on dreaming. He was the simplest, the most sincere of all, a beautful soul, cruelly wounded in his self-love, a noble intelli- ARSENE HOUSSAYE. 77 gence, who knew not how to walk leaning on the staff of faith. This one, Ge'rard de Norval, awoke at last, but it was only to suicide. This Bohemian life lasted from 1833 to!837, and The'o- phile Gautier and Arseiie Houssaye were its leading spirits. Upon his arrival in Paris, Arsene was only seventeen years old. A precocious youth, he belonged to a preco- cious epoch. When not quite twenty, he published his first book, the Couronne de Bluets, a paradoxical ro- mance, more to be commended for the beauty of its style than the philosophy it preaches. A certain publisher of Paris, pleased with Arsne's first book, proposed to purchase from the young author a second romance, entitled La Pecheresse, and to pay him in books. " Much obliged," replied Arsene, " I pay my landlord in francs ! " Another publisher paid cash down for La Pecheresse, and two days after the appearance of this strange novel, the author received from his Majesty, the king of critics, this agreeable note : , " Come and see me, I have read a charming book of- yours, which I greatly admire. JULES JANIN.'' * The young romancer hastened to respond to the flattering invitation, and made the acquaintance of the great journalist of the Debats. At this period, the Saint-Simonians were proclaiming the emancipation of women. They gave Arsene's ro- mance an enthusiastic welcome, as it was supposed to be a sort of apology for their doctrines. He wrote six- teen or eighteen other romances, in a few of which he was assisted by Jules Sandeau. His poems, p iblished in 1852, give evidence of no 78 LIFE PORTRAITS. very high poetical inspiration, but they hear the impress of remarkable delicacy and grace. Without the power of Victor Hugo or the originality of Alfred de Musset, Arsene Houssaye holds his rank among the poets of our day. His poetry is blonde, dreamy and. melancholy. He is not gifted with the brilliant voice of the nightin- gale, but he lias the sweet, limpid melodies of the linnet. More and more an enthusiast for art, he, in 1840, made an excursion upon the old Hollandais soil, to study the works . of Rembrandt and Rubens. Chosen two years previous, to render accounts of the exposi- tions of painting, he continued them up to 1843, when he took charge of IS Artiste. Under his direction, this art journal became an elegant review, embellished by the highest efforts of both the pen and pencil. A pleiad of young writers, some already known, others ambitious of distinction, grouped themselves around the editor- in-chief. The direction of the Artiste did not prevent Houssaye's still writing for the Revue de Paris, where, in 1838, he had begun a charming gallery of Portraits of the Eighteenth Century, which will remain models of their kind. The volume entitled " Philosophers and Comediennes " completes the collection. M. Boyer has written a very remarkable critique upon these Portraits, in which we find the following sentence : " Arsene Houssaye is a literary Cagliostro who has danced the minuet with Madame de Pompadour, and who now waltzes with Mademoiselle Rachel." This is painting a man with one stroke of the brush. Doctor Veron was then throned on The Constitutionnel. Actresses, lit ing or dead, always allured this personage. He found that Houssaye had admirably sketched the graceful and spirituelle figures of Sophie Arnould and ARSENE HOUSSAYE. 79 Guiniard. "Here is some one who would enliven the Constitutionnel and its readers," thought he. That very day, Houssaye received, with the doctor's card, a note inviting him to call at the editorial rooms. "What does the Revue de Paris pay you? But very little I imagine," said this admirer of actresses. "As for La Presse it is not generous. Girardin pays The'ophile Gautier with what he takes from the others. If I were to accept all your Portraits, what would you wish for each?" " A hundred francs," returned Houssaye. " I will give you one hundred and fifty. Is it a bargain? If so, let us go and dine at Vdfour's." Enchanted at the nabob's generosity, Houssaye went down with the doctor. A magnificent carriage was awaiting them. They entered it. "Have you horses?" asked Veron. " No, certainly not ; I have as much as I can do to go on foot." " One reason the more for having an equipage. Horses, my dear fellow, are a stimulus. Those who walk, never arrive." O, philosophy of our age, here is one of thy apostles ! Arsene allowed himself to be only half seduced by these triumphant maxims. He has a carriage now, but he almost always goes on foot. In 1846, Houssaye, received the Cross of the Legion of Honor for a History of Flemish Painting, a remark- able work, which has had a great sale, and has brought a large sum to its author. Before publishing this his- tory, he revisited Holland, and made the tour of all the museums of Germany, Italy and France. Arsene Houssaye is a silent soul, who has a profound 80 LIFE PORTRAITS. horror of garrulousness. He often repeats to himself that fine saying of Pythagoras, " Hold your tongue, or say something better than silence." Like many well known personages, he does not, morn- ings, prepare bans mots for use during the day. His witty replies betray neither pretension nor research. They are improvisations, and pure gold. When Emile Deschamps wished to enter the French Academy, he had at first twelve votes ; then the num- ber was reduced to four, and finally to two. "Poor Deschamps ! he is dying of extinction of the voice," said Arsene. At a dinner given to men of letters, each in turn spoke of his manner of writing. "I work at night," said the author of 'Alonzo.' " Four hours of sleep suffices me." " Ah, Monsieur le Ministre," replied Houssaye, " you often preside at the councils of the university ! " We might recall a score of sallies of this kind. Married in 1847, to a charming woman, rich, happy in his domestic relations, with a well-earned and some- what extended fame, and a broad, fruitful career before him, Houssaye took one fajse step, which conducted him to the edge of an abyss. He plunged into politics, thinking that this way lay the road to the Chamber, to the Ministry, to all sorts of civic honors. The remem- brance of his grandfather electrized the democratic fibre of l.is nature. He harangued the Picardian students; and as he drank champagne with them at the Chateau- Rouge, he reminded them that they had the honor cf being from the same province as Condorcet, Camille Desmoulins and Saint-Just. In brief, he arrayed his blonde head in a Phrygian cap, and no longer went to dine with the Duke de Montpensier at Vincennes. ARSEJSTE IIOUSSAYE. 81 From the great revolutionary clock, the hour of the republic struck. Houssaye flung himself into the move- ment, founded a club, and straightway shrank back affrighted. He had believed he hailed a dawn, and perceiving in the sky only an extinguished comet, he at once faced about and turned his back to the waning star whose uncertain beams could illumine only ruins. From the stage where he had thought to play a role, he leaped into the parterre, became one of the audience, and hissed that wicked parody of '93 they were trying to present as a ne/v piece. He abandoned politics, resumed the pen, and began his " History of the Forty-first Chair of the Academy." At this time, the Theatre FranQais was given over to anarchy. They wished to place at its head a conciliatory man who could restore order, and Houssaye was chosen director. He remained seven years in this office, and his directorship gave universal satisfaction. Rival cliques were reconciled, old grievances removed, old cos- tumes sent to Rag Fair; new scenery and new pieces wooed back the public to the deserted boxes, and Hous- saye's administration proved artistically and financially a most brilliant success. Returning to literature, some unhappy impulse moved Houssaye to write and publish his " King Voltaire," a sort of nonsensical apology for the most despicable of men and the most infamous of philosophers. In writing this bad book, Houssaye must have been deceived as to the sentiment of the present age, which has given over Voltaire to almost universal reprobation. We should have pity for every sin, they say. ,Yes, if the sin is followed by repentance ; but our author, after " King Voltaire," published the Charmettes, a sort of 82 LIFE PORTRAITS. apotheosis of Jean Jacques Rousseau, who is no better than the Sieur Arouet. Of all his literary confreres, Arse*ne Houssaye is the one it seems most painful to reproach. He is amiable, generous, obliging and unselfish. Egotism has never tarnished his soul. He has a heart magnanimous enough to confess, some day, the sins of his pen. It would be useless to seek to present a complete list of this author's works. They have already been given to the public in ten octavo volumes. We must not for- get to mention a curious weekly serial which for a long time appeared in La Presse, under the signature of Pierre de 1'Estoile, and which he has given the title of " History in Slippers." He has also written several theatrical pieces. After the completion of his " Forty-First Academy. Chair," a grand success, M. Houssaye tried his hand at history. "King Voltaire" was followed by " Mademoi- selle de La Valliere " and " Notre Dame de Thermidor," both of which won a great, but much contested success. Even as a historian, our author still remains a fashion- able romancist. Two of his recent romances, " Mile. Cleopatra," and " The Romance of the Duchess," have been very much read. Houssaye is par excellence the painter of new Paris, and of feminine manners. He has also lately written eight volumes of memoirs relating to French history. Since his entrance into letters, Arsene Houssaye has known all the world, and none better than he can depict the men and things of his time. His official func- tions as inspector general of the Fine Arts have made it his mission to study the artistic wealth of France, to serve young artists while establishing ancient renowns. Every six months he pronounces orations before some AKSENE HOUSSAYE. 83 statue that has been reared, or harangues the young laureates of the arts. The journalist in him has survived. For more th;ia twenty years he has conducted U Artiste, and some years ago, he founded the "Review of the Nineteenth Century," the ark, more or less sacred, of the literary mind so compromised in our day. Arsene Houssaye's unvaried success has passed into a proverb. He has never met a reverse of fortune. One 2d day of December he made five hundred thousand francs by operations at the Bourse, to which he then respectfully bade adieu, promising to try his luck there no more. To be just, we must say that this money honestly won by Houssaye, fell back, a plentiful rain into the hands of the less fortunate aiiists around him. His hotel in the Champs Elyse'es, is lined with the mas- terpieces of modern artists. In 1855, Houssaye had the misfortune to lose his wife. She died of heart disease, leaving to console her stricken husband, the loveliest child in the world. The boy's head was like a fine pastel of La Tour ; a head Greuze might choose for a model. As this boy, Henry Hous- saye, has grown up, he has devoted himself to literature, to Greek literature in particular. Born in 1848, he has already published a " History of Apelles." Arsene Houssaye still devotes himself to art and literature. A successful journalist and author, a man of wealth and social position, his life is one the world calls peculiarly happy and prosperous. He is becoming widely known in this country through his correspond- ence to the New York Tribune. A brilliant, fascinating volume, compiled from his letters, has been recently published, entitled " Life in Paris." One of his late letters throws some new light on his 84 LIFE PORTRAITS. domestic history. Speaking of the precocity of Parisian youth, he says : " Children no longer play. I have a son ten years o f age. He is something of an American, for his mother is a charming woman of Peru." After narrating freaks of this precocious young gentleman, M. IIou p-jre adds: " I should tell you that I have two sons. If the one belongs to the New World, the other hc-longa a great deal to the ancient world. He is the historian of Apelles and Alcibiades." GEORGE SAND.* MADAME DUDEVANT, the George Sand of our day, was born in 1804. She is a lineal descendant of Augustus II. of Poland, and her maiden name was Amantine-Lucile- Aurore Dupin. Reared by her grandmother, she passed her early years at the Chateau de Nohant, an estate lying in one of the loveliest valleys of Berri. This grandmother, the Countess de Horn, was a woman of uncommon wit and grace, but far more brilliant than solid. She had all the anti-religious ideas, all the para- doxical whims of her century. She set the philosophy of Jean-Jacques Rousseau above the gospel, and sought to educate the young girl committed to her care in accord- ance with these peculiar views. At fifteen, Aurore was a graceful dancer, an adroit equestrienne ; she also perfectly understood the arts of managing a gun and sword. She was a lively, petulant amazon, a charming, thoughtless young creature, able, like her grandmother before her, to follow the chase, to dash through the avenues of Marly; but she did not know how to make the sign of the Cross. It was soon whispered in the grandmother's ears, that the pious Restoration had little sympathy with the doc- trines of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and desired that young * Portraits et Silhouettes. Euytne de Mirccourt. 86 LIFE POKTRAITS. persons should not be educated after the fashion of Emile. This greatly surprised the old lady, and in philo- osophical matters, gave her a very low opinion of the new regime. Nevertheless, it was decided to send Aurore to a Parisian convent to receive that religious instruction of which she had not the least tincture. This was a painful separation for the young girl, who adored her grandmother. In later years, whenever in her books, she speaks of this dear guardian of her in- fancy, it is always with a profound sentiment of regret, veneration and love. About 1836, at the time of her suit for divorce, she writes : " O grandmother, arise and come to me ! Cast off the winding-sheet in which they have wrapped thy broken body, for its last sleep; let thy old bones arise. Come to succor me and to console me. If I must be forever banished from thee, follow me afar off. Ah ! if thou hadst lived, all this evil would not have come upon me. I should have found in thy bosom a sacred refuge, and thy paralyzed hand would have revivified, to shield me from my enemies." We find in the " Letters of a Voyager," certain curious details as to the life of Aurore at the Chateau de No- hant. Like all lively imaginations, she was extremely fond of reading. She thus speaks of her earl} r pursuits : " Who is there of us that does not lovingly recall the first books we devoured and relished ? The cover of a dusty old volume which met you on the shelves of a forgotten book-case, has it never retraced for you the graceful pictures of your early years ? Have you not imagined you saw before you the broad meadows bathed in the rosy splendors of the twilight, as you read it for the first time? HOAV quickly the night shadows fell over those divine pages! How the 'unpitying darkness made GEORGE SAND. 87 tlie characters swim upon the paling leaves ! The day is over, the lambs bleat, the sheep have arrived at the fold, the chirp of the cricket is heard in the thatched cottages. You must go, for the dam is narrow and slip- pery, the banks are rough. You hasten, but you wil] arrive too late ; supper will have begun. The servant, who loves you, has set back the clock as much as he dares, but it is all in vain ; you will have the humiliation of entering last, and the grandmother inexorable as to eti- quette, even in the seclusion of her country home, will reproach you in a sweet, sad voice, very softly, very tenderly, but you will be more sensible to her gentle chiding than to the severest chastisement. And when, asking you how you have passed the day, you confess to her that you have been reading in a meadow; when call- ed upon to show the book, you draw trembling from your pocket " Estelle and Nemorin," Oh ! then the grand- mof her will smile. Reassure yourself, your treasure will be restored to you, but you will have no need hence- forth to forget the supper-hour. Happy season ! Oh, my valley of the Noire ! O Corinne ! O Bernardin de Saint- Pierre ! Oh, the Iliad ! O Millevoye ! O Atala ! Oh, the willows by the river ! Oh, my vanished youth ! " All those details are delicious. We find many other such where George Sand reveals to her readers charm- ing glimpses of her own history. We see that the young girl's grandmother allowed her to read whatever suited her fancy. Corinne, and especially Atala, were to awaken singular dreams in this young head of fourteen years. The curious child read all that fell into her hands. Her ardent imagination sought food everywhere, and was inflamed at the first spark. Once at the convent, she was seduced by the poetry of Catholicism, and often yielded to transports of religious fervor. Like Saint Theresa, 88 LIFE POKTRAITS. she passed entire hours in ecstasy at the foot of the altnr, The death of her grandmother, which occurred in the mean time, only increased her ascetic disposition. She left the convent to pass a few weeks with Madame de Fran- cueil, and returned firmly resolved to become a nun. It required all the authority of her family to induce her to marry six months after. They gave her hand to the Baron Dudevant, an old, retired soldier, who had become a gentleman farmer, much versed in the rearing of stock, and himself over- seeing the workmen. He was a man with a bald fore- head, a gray mustache, and a severe eye ; an exacting master, before whom all trembled, wife, servants, horses and dogs. Never were surroundings more uncongenial to the haughty and at the same time tender natuie of this young woman. She possessed a fortune of nearly half a million. The agricultural husband used tins dowry to enlarge his rural operations. He stocked his stables with pure-blooded animals, and doubled the number of his farming implements. He concerned himself with everything but his wife, and did not seem to perceive that Aurore, with her seven- teen years, her refined mind and her exquisite sensibility, must languish in the midst of this prosaic existence. Madame Dudevant, at first, bore her sorrows with res- ignation ; two beautiful children came ere long to con- sole her with their infantile smiles and caresses. But soon, finding her heart wounded even in its maternal affections, she could bear up no longer. She fell dan- gerously ill ; the faculty of Berri ordered her to drink the water of the Pyre'ne'es. Baron Dudevant, bound to his merinos and his ploughshares, did not accompany his wife on the journey. At Bordeaux, where she first went, and where she GEORGE SAND. 89 bore letters of introduction to old friends of her family, Madame Dudevant could at last gain some knowledge of the world. She was overwhelmed with attentions, and people were pleased to extol the valuable qualities with which heaven had endowed her. Homage and admiration everywhere attended her. lleturned to her home, the young wife found her husband as coldly indifferent, and life monotonous and irksonu- as of old. In order to combat those ideas of revolt which had begun to assert their empire, she sur- rounded herself with friends and acquaintances, and she received with open arms, as so many saviours, poetry, art and science. A young compatriot of hers, Jules Sandeau, a law- student, was in the habit of visiting Chateau de Nohant during his vacations. It was he who first directed the glance of Aurore toward that literary horizon where her star was ere long to dawn, and ascend upward until lost from view. The naturalist, Neraud, dwelt upon an ad- joining estate, and about this time began to come to the Chateau to give its young mistress lessons in botany and entomology. He was married and had two children, to whom he had wished to give the names of plants. They had allowed him without remonstrance, to name his son Olivier, but when he wanted to name his daugh- ter Petite Centauree, Madame Dudevant protested. She pursued her studies with this enthusiastic and eccentric teacher for the most part in the open air. Her little son, then four years old, was the companion of their rambles. These relations were without reproach. Neraud was a little, copper-colored man, absorbed by tw r o passions, science and politics ; he had early enrolled himself undei the flag of the republic, and had joined a club of Car* bonari in Paris. 90 LIFE PORTRAITS. The friendship of a man for a woman seldom endures long without an admixture of love. Jules Sandeau returned to Paris, bearing in his head a profound passion which he dared not avow. And Neraud, too, soon yield- ed to the spell of Madame Dudevant's charms. He wrote billets-doux to her into which every now and then, slip- ped some little madrigal. The discovery of one of these led to a violent scene with the young wife's husband, in the midst of which a fancy seized the savant to quit the country and join the. Moravian brethren. He stopped at the rocks of Vaacluse, resolved to live and die on the borders of that fountain, where Petrach had been wont to evoke the image of Laura from the mirror of the waters. Madame Dudevant had never returned his pas- sion. " I was notmuch disquieted at this fatal resolution," writes she. " I knew him too well to believe his sorrow irreparable. So long as there were flowers and insects upon the earth, Cupid's arrows must glance from him without effect." In fact, he returned with a herbarium full of treasures. Aurore ran to meet him, and laughing, gave him two hearty kisses. A tear coursed slowly down the cheek of the botanist. Love was submerged, but friendship sur- vived. The suspicious husband would not believe in this sudden cure. His relations to his wife were poison- ed by doubt and jealousy, and it becoming impossible for the pair to live together, a voluntary separation took place. Madame Dudevant left all her fortune in exchange for her liberty. Unhappy with her husband, deserted by Sandeau, Aurore went to Paris, where she took refuge in the same convent in which a portion of her youth had been spent. But her heart was so much agitated that she could not long enjoy the quiet of this hoty retreat. We ere Ions: find Madame Dudevant in a little attic GEORGE SAND. 91 of the Quay Saint Michel, where Jules Sandeau soon discovered her. She was absolutely destitute of re- sources. As for Sandeau, the son of a modest attorney, he received only a small allowance from his family, and was himself struggling with poverty. Mme. Dudevant having a slight knowledge of painting, Sandeau applied to the keeper of a fancy shop, who gave her some candle- stick trays and snuff-box covers to paint. But this work Mas both fatiguing and unremunerative. She resolved to write, stating her embarrassment, to Latouche, a native of her own province, the editor-in-chief of Figaro. He replied, inviting her and Sandeau to visit him at Vallee aux Loups, where he dwelt, near Chateau- briand. "Why do you not attempt journalism?" he asked. " It is less difficult than you think. Be one of our editors,- Sandeau," he added " Ah me ! I am very indolent about writing," the young man replied naively. " Oh, never mind that ! I will help you," said Aurore smiling. ' An excellent idea ! " exclaimed Latouche. " Go to work, and bring me your articles as soon as possible." From that day Madame Dudevant abandoned the pencil for the pen. And thus began that literary part nership which attracted so much attention in the reading world of Paris. Our aspirants for money and fame se^ themselves to the work. At the end of six weeks, they had finished a book, entitled, "Rose and Blanche, or The Comedienne and the Nun." But they could find no publishers until Latouche at length came to their aid. He persuaded an old bookseller to pay four hundred francs for the manuscript. " What name shall we sign ? " asked Aurore. " I cannot without scandal, write the name given me by my hu.r-.band on the title-page of a book." 92 LIFE PORTRAITS. " If my father learns that I have engaged in literal are, he will send me his malediction at the outset," said Sandeau. " Cut Sandeau in two," returned Latouche, " and your father will no longer recognize you." They followed this advice. The book was signed Jul'8 Sand, and the young authors believed their fortune made. The law-student, very much given to the dolce far niente, slept more even than usual, and imagined that the four hundred francs would last forever. Aurore at this period first adopted the masculine costume, so as to visit the theatres unattended, when Sandeau was not inclined to bear her company. Meantime the four hundred francs vanished, and desti- tution again threatened the young authors. Aurore was advised to journey to Berri to obtain a separation, or at least a yearly alimony from her husband. She departed, after having drawn up with Sandeau the plot of Indiana. They divided the proposed work into chapters ; Aurore took her share and promised Sandeau to toil diligently during her absence. Sandeau swore to do the same, but sleep got the upper hand with him, he worked only in dreams. Upon Aurore's return, he could not present her with a single line of his task. " Ah well ! " said the young woman, laughing, " I have not been idle. See here ! Read and correct." Aurore had placed in his hands the entire manuscript of "Indiana." At the very first chapter, Sandeau broke out into enthusiastic expressions of delight. " There is nothing to retouch," he said. " This story is a chef-cTceuvre." "So much the better!" cried the delighted Aurore. " Let us take the two volumes to a publisher." " But I have not worked upon this book," said the GEORGE SAND. 93 young man hesitatingly. " You must sign it with your own name." " Is ever ! " returned Aurore. " We will continue to use the name we have adapted for ' Rose and Blanche. 1 " "Impossible!" said Sarideau. "I am too honest to steal your fame. I cannot accept your generous offer, without descending in my own esteem. Madame Dudevant went to Latouche, begging him to make Sandeau reverse his decision." "You signed your first book, Jules Sand," said La- to uche. " Sand, then, is common property. Choose another name than Jules. To-day is the 23d of April, Saint George's day. Call yourself George Sand, and no one can object." And thus was born that pseudonym so widely cele- brated. " Indiana " was sold for six hundred francs, and its publishers prophesied for it a marvellous success. Fiyaro pronounced the work passable as to style, but mediocre in interest. Another leading critic, Alphonse Rabbe, himself a would-be romancist, declared the book absurd in conception, style and execution. But Indiana became all the rage, despite these rigorous judgments. Every journal made its commentary. They related many anecdotes of the author, marvellous as contradictory. Was it a man? Who knew her? Should they say he or her ? Jules Janin, by his article upon George Sand in the Debats, chose to augment botli the uncertainty and the mystery. It was given only to the artist-world, now and then, to lift the corner of the veil. George Sand ere long occupied a dwelling worthy of her, where all the celebrities sued for the honor of admittance. She here received artists as brothers, smoked cigarettes with them, and surprised them by her careless, witty gayety. Happy in her new name, 94 LIFE PORTRAITS. which had received a baptism of renown, she would be called only George and continued to wear the masculine costume. This costume became her marvellously. You met her in the streets, upon the promenades, and upon the boulevard, with a little overcoat fastened at the waist, the loveliest black hair in the world falling over it in curls. She carried a cane, and smoked a manilla with the most graceful applomb. In this first intoxication of success, she forgot the faithful companion of her days of poverty and trial. Sandeau, wounded to the heart, departed for Italy, on foot, alone and penniless. He was too proud to com- plain, too courageous not to strive after forgetfuln* - indifference. He remained ten months in Naples, and returned on a merchant ship, whose captain had befriend- ed him. George Sand has more than once regretted her friend of the Quay Saint-Michel. In 1835, she wrote : " There hangs in my chamber the portrait of one none here have seen. For a year, the person who left me this portrait, sat with me every evening, at a little table, and lived by the same work as I. We would sup at this same little table, talking of art, of sentiment and of the future. The future has failed in its promi- us. Pray for me, my friend." The author of " Indiana " soon attached other jewels to her literary crown. The Rwue de Paris and the Revue des Deux Mondes, disputed for her books." Val- entine, appeared at the end of 1832. Six months after, "Leila " saw the light. These three romances, like most of those that followed, contain certain fierce attacks upon the institution of marriage. A goodly number of critics began to cry out at the scandal, and to accuse the author of trying to sap the foundations of society. The editor of " Literary Europe " could not find language strong GEORGE SAND. 95 enough to condemn the audacious woman who sought to overthrow the work of ages. Gustave Planche made a cutting reply in the Revue des Deux Monties. A duel ensued, but men of letters wound only with the pen. Wrongly or rightly, George Sand had great esteem for the poetry of Alfred de Musset, then very young, but nevertheless at the height of his celebrity. Buloz, conductor of the Revue des Deux Mondes, brought to- gether at a dinner the popular poet and novelist. A. few days after, Musset attended a soiree at George Sand's and six weeks later he accompanied her on a tour to Italy under the fallacious title of confidential secretary. Two years after the poet's death, George Sand pub- lished that preposterous romance which has for its title, Elle et Lui, and where each reader recognizes under the most transparent veil, her own history and that of the poet. This fulminating anathema, this bitter diatribe aroused the whole world of letters. All the friends of the deceased poet rose in energetic protest, demanding an account of the audacious authoress for this personal " study, which she of all others, had the least right to publish. M. Paul de Musset, the brother of Alfred, took up the gauntlet, he, in his turn published a per- sonal study : Lui et Elle, where he presented the facts in their true light. On her return from Italy, Madame Sand published five novels in rapid succession. Their titles were : " An- dre," " La Marquise," " Lavinia," " Metella " and " Mat- tea." Never has author possessed a more real and in- contestable fecundity. For forty years she has known no rest, but has heaped volume upon volume. u Leone, Leoui," " Jacques," " Simon," " Mauprat," " La Der- niere Aklini," "Les Maitres Masaites," "Pauline," "A Winter in Majorca," appeared from 1S35 to 1837. Her 90 LIFE PORTRAITS. style has an irresistible fascination ; it possesses two qualities equally precious, elegance and clearness. Her phrases, sometimes incorrect, are charming in their very incorrectness. She has very ably defended herself from the charge of immorality brought against her works. But we cannot deny that her romances have done harm, great harm. She has constituted herself the special pleader of passion insurgent against duty ; of passion, ill at ease in the shackles of la\v, the conventionalities of society. Then as one needs replace what one has hurled down, for the unhappy ones exalted through her exaltation, led astray by her wanderings, she has con- jured up the vision of a promised land where perfect free- dom and happiness abide. She has created an unknown race of heroines, beautiful, noble, graild, strong, who through the elevation of their sentiments, rule the com- munity of marriage, and who know how to rend without pity and without remorse, all the chains which restrain their inclinations. Herself a victim of the conjugal tie, Madame Sand should have been content with claiming justice without preaching revolt; but with her, one first link of duty severed, all the rest become detached, and she made haste to proclaim herself the priestess of socialism. In 1836, she resumed her name and title, to enter a suit against her husband, with a view to regaining "pos^ session of her' fortune, and the guardianship of her chil- dren. At the different hearings which took place at the tribunal of La Chatre, and the court royal of Bourges, scandalous details enough were brought to light. The agricultural Baron Dudevant had felt a sovereign dis- dain for the intelligence and transcendent faculties of his young wife; "senseless, drivelling, foolish, stupid,'' were his frequent adjectives in addressing her. He ac- GEORGE SAND. 97 cepted the separation most philosophically. He was very far from being all to blame. The acts of brutality of which he was accused, had a very natural excuse in the conduct of his wife, and are slight faults in comparison with conjugal infidelity. At the time when Madame Sand gained her suit, and the custody of her children, her son Maurice was twelve, her daughter Solange was entering her nineteenth year. Soon the old manor of Nohant received her to its arms, and she wrote, " O my household gods, here you are just as I left you ! I incline before you with that respect each year of age i enders more profound in the heart of man. . . Why did I ever forsake you, you always propi- tious to simple hearts, you who watch over the little chil- dren while the mother slceps,you who make chaste dreams of love hover around the couch of young girls, who give sleep and health to the aged? Do you recognize me, peaceful Penates? This pilgrim who arrives on foot, covered with the dust of the way and the mists of the night, do you not take her for a stranger ? " Madame Sand's children no more left her. They ac- companied her to Paris and on her travels. Surrounded by loving hearts, her mind relieved from trouble, her soul at rest, she seemed to repudiate the desperate doc- trines she had sown upon the pages of " Leila " and " Spiridion." We have seen her a Christian in her youth. Soured by misfortune, she had passed from faith to doubt, then she had given herself up to exaltation, to revolt ; now, she tried to walk in the path of repentance, but even here her old rancor against society led her astray. Like an invalid, who has long suffered, she repelled well known remedies, and resorted to quack nostrums. We now find her associated with Lamennais who had just founded the Monde. She wrote for this journal 5 98 LIFE PORTRAITS. her " Letters to Murcie," where the worthy sentiments of the repentant Magdalene clash against a host of hete- rodox maxims which she shared in common with Lamen- nais. From this literary connection, there remained to her u sort of asceticism alloyed with certain suspicious politi- cal tendencies. This gave birth to that series of so- cialistic romances, which appeared one after another: " Horace," " La Petite Fadette" " Cohsuelo," " The Countess of Rudolstadt," " Monsieur Antoiiie," " Les Maitres Sonneurs" etc. " She allies herself," says Lamenie, " to those who seek social happiness outside the eternal laws of religion and of the family. She has become dreamy and Utopian, but she will again become Christian." We should never despair of the divine compassion. But for the last twenty years, Madame Sand's works have met with only doubtful success. Her sympathies are with democrats and demagogues. When Madame Sand goes to confession, she keeps nothing back. She explains with much frankness the acrimony that is the ruling trait in most of her works. Habituated to a princely life, her income does not always suffice for her expenses. Forced to earn money, she says "I have pressed my imagination to produce, without seeking the concurrence of my reason. Instead of coming to me smiling and crowned with flowers, my Muse has met me cold, reluctant, indignant, dictating to me only sombre, bitter pages, icing over with doubt and despair all the impulses of my soul." Madame Sand took an active part in the political movements of 1848, and when this new excitement was over, she found refuge in an idyl. Her nature carries her from one extreme to another. She has revealed very fair dramatic qualities, and several of her pieces GEORGE SAND. 99 have won success before the footlights, although she has enjoyed no brilliant theatrical triumph. Mademoi- selle Rachel did not love her, and would play nothing of hers. The great tragedienne declared laughing, that she would read nothing of Madame Sand's for fear she might be forced to admire her too much. Some years ago George Sand published a " History of my Life," in which happily, she has given herself no full- length portrait. " The Snow-Man," " The Chateau of the Desert," " Adriane " " Jean de la Roche " " Constance Verrier" "The Marquis de Villemer," and "Mademoi- selle de Quintine," are also among her later works. The latter a decidedly anti-religious book, proves how far the author is from her predicted conversion. Madame Sand lives the greater portion of the time at her chateau of Berri. Aside from the large sum earned in literary labor she has an income of twelve thousand francs. Always surrounded by a devoted circle of friends and admirers, she cares for little that goes on outside this- circle, and confines within these narrow limits all her sympathy and all her benevolence. Poor, aspiring and talented young authors appeal to her in vain for aid and encouragement. She makes it a rule to send back unopened every manuscript that is offered her for perusal. Is it right, when we have reached the summit thus to despise those who struggle at its base ? Where would the author of " Indiana " now be if she had not found some help at the outset ? But in the domain of letters as well as in that of the air, it is seldom that the sparrows can count upon the eagles. The chateau of Nohant is not a seignorial house. An almost vulgar simplicity reigns within it, and the furni- ture attests the filial piety of the chatelaine rather than her taste in ornamental things. 100 LIFE PORTRAITS. You see here needlework, drawings, sketches, all sou- venirs of the happy triumphs of a pampered childhood. The mistress of the house sleeps little, five or six hours at most. All the rest of her time is consecrated to liter- ary work. Her table is abundant and delicate, her ap- petite is good, her mental and physical vigor are re- markable for one of her years. Surrounded by children and grandchildren, her home life is cheerful and happy. Silent and grave herself, she loves to hear conversation ; stories and bons mots find in her a smiling and benevo- lent auditor. Occasionally she, too, indulges in jests and witty sallies. Her son, Maurice, is a romancer who has written several popular books. Although Madame Sand is past her seventieth year, her literary activity still re- mains unabated, " Ma Soeur Jeanne" and " Flammarnde " are the very latest of her works. They have her olden fascinations of style, and although free from the gross immorality of her earlier works, they are still excessive- ly French in tone and treatment. Some of the critics praise, others condemn. " George Sand is not read now so much as she once was. Take out that spice of wickedness which flavors the ordinary French novel, and to very many readers its charm is gone. There are those who say that as her moral tone has become elevated, her vigor and once matchless style have deteriorated. A recent Parisian letter-writer who met Madame Sand on a flying visit to the capital where she very se'ldom appears of late, describes her as having grown fearfully ugly. She is old, and yet above all things she hates old age ; she cannot live long, and yet she shud- ders at the idea of death. She must, we think, be bur- dened with a consciousness of transcendent gifts un- worthily employed ; she must feel that to the world she GEORGE SAND. 101 is so soon to leave, she has done more harm than good. If in her, the culture of the heart had equalled that of the intellect, if the Christian graces had kept pace with the mental graces, the heavenly with the worldly aspir- rations, these declining years, so full of sadr\ess, might have been the serene, starry evening that succeeds the heated, toilsome day, and death no angel of wrath but a messenger of love. ALFRED DE MUSSET. * I. ALL records of the French noblesse make mention of the De Musset family, and there is no need here to re- cord the genealogy of the poet who renders this name illustrious. Upon the list of his ancestors is a certain Calvin de Musset, who was a poet and musician, and in- timate friend of Thibout, the poet-king of Navarre. But we need not go back to the time of Queen Blanche, to seek a gift for poetry and letters among the ancestors of Alfred de Musset. His maternal grandfather, a learn- ed lawyer, in the interval of grave pursuits, paid court to the muses, and Alfred's father a soldier under the First Consul, and afterwards Minister of the Interior, found in literature a relief from the burdens of military and civic duties. He published several works, the best known being a Life of Jean Jacques Rousseau. He al- so wrote verses, particularly excelling in those of a bur- lesque character. Alfred de Musset was born in Paris, December llth, 1810. At the age of three years his beauty attracted the attention of all, and a Flemish painter, Van Briee, begged permission to paint his portrait. This picture is to-day in the possession of his family. Until the age of nine years, Alfred's education had *Life of Alfred de Musset, bjr his brother. ALFEED DE MUSSET. 103 been intrusted to his mother, a woman of rare virtues and accomplishments, and to private tutors ; he then en- tered the college of Henry IV. finding himself the young- est and most advanced of a class of sixteen. Paul Fou- cher, the brother-in-law of Victor Hugo, was his friend ami schoolmate, and when Alfred was but seventeen, in-. troduced him into the literary Cenacle of Avhich Victor Hugo was chief. He was received by the Hugos as one of the family and often invited to dine with them. This intimacy lasted four years years always dear to the re- membrance of the younger of the two poets. As his father did not urge his immediate choice of a career, Alfred profited by the delay, and engaged in va- rious studies. He attended a course of lectures upon law, and one upon anatomy, and took lessons in drawing, painting, music and the English language, at the same time strengthening his mind by useful reading. At the end of a year, being questioned by his father as to his intentions, he confessed with great humility, that he had no taste for a profession, that he felt drawn only to pursuits which could lead to nothing, that is to say to the arts and poetry. De Musset pere, having little faith in Alfred's pros- pects as artist or poet, forced him to enter a bank as copyist. But this did not long endure. Soon recogniz- ing the poetic gifts of his son, he did not seek to turn him from his true vocation. Alfred passed all his evenings at the Cenacle. After having played for some time the rule of auditor, he had a desire to compose and read ballads in his turn. His first lengthy effort was " Don Paez." An evening was given to its formal reading. Since leaving college the student had become transformed into the dandy. He came to the Cenacle on this all important occasion, 104 LIFE POETKAITS. dressed in the extreme of fashion, with dainty frills and a D'Orsay hat. The audience was ardent and enthusi- astic. " Don Paez " was received with frantic applause. The meetings of the Cenacle, which had now begun to be holden in two or three different salons, were not exclusively given to literature. Dancing was sometimes kept up until dawn, for a plenty of young girls lent the charm of their presence to these reunions. At one of these soirees, Sainte Beuve seeing the author of " Don Paez " dancing with juvenile ardor, dedicated to him his verses entitled " The Ball." In 1829, De Musset added a new poem, " Mardoche," to the pieces already so well known to his friends, and they were published in a volume. In reading these poems, grave people frowned. " Can it be," said they, " that a young man of nineteen years, writes all this from his own experience? " No, he did not thus write. As yet, he knew almost nothing of life. These Andelusian pas- sions were only youthful dreams, these railing, cavalier airs were only pretence, this profligacy was only poetic license. All this existed only in his head, and women, more clairvoyant than pedants, well perceived here the very proofs of innocence and ingenuousness. The blonde poet of the " Spanish and Italian Tales,'' found a most enthusiastic reception in the salons of Paris. Flattery and adulation everywhere attended him. But his happiness was not without alloy. One of his pieces was hissed at the Odeon, and from the reception given to some other dramatic efforts, he began to think that the theatres did not desire his work. Pie found in lyric poetry his consolation, and published many pieces in the Revue de Paris. In 1851 he wrote several critical and fictitious arti- cles for the Temps. By turns laborious and dissipated, ALFKED DE MUSSET. 105 lie worked with incredible ardor, if nothing came to dis- tract his thoughts. The labor once finished or interrup- ted, the poet again relapsed into the dandy. His friends, richer than he, too, often drew him from his books. He could not conceal his aristocratic tastes. All places con- secrated to fashion exercised an irresistible attraction over him. At the Opera, the Theatre-Italien, the Bou- levard de Gand, the Cafe de Paris, the most distin- guished men then met for play, for revels extended far into the night. To move at ease upon this dangerous ground, a fashionable coat did not suffice ; one must have his pockets well garnished with money. When this indispensable requisite failed him, the young dandy was happily obliged* to return to his work. In 1832, Alfred de Musset lost his father. This event marks a turning point in his life ; it changes the whole course of his ideas. He resolved to conquer a new po- sition. His talent had ripened, and he wrote three poems very different from his " Spanish Tales." They were " The Cup and the Lip " " Of What do Young Girls Dream ? " and " Namouna." They appeared in one volume in 1833. From this moment dates his sepa- ration from the romantic school. No more triumphant evenings ! No more enthusiastic cheers ! But he con- soled himself in thinking that he should also be relieved from sterile discussions. "I have played with words long enough," he said, " I desire now to feel, to think, to ex- press freely, without submitting to the rule of any order, without depending upon any church." This independence caused great wrath. Alfred de Musset 'was regarded as a deserter, a refugee. These were severe words to apply to a young man because he wished to arrange the metres of his own verses, and rec, ognized some merit in the poetry of Racine. 5* 106 LIFE PORTRAITS. A little after the publication of these new poems, M. Buloz, of the Revue des Deux Mondes, came to secure the assistance of their author, and from this visit ensued relations which death alone interrupted. The first work of Alfred de Musset for this Review was " Andrea del Sarto." The comedy, " Marianne's Caprices " fol- lowed and three months later, " Rolla " appeared. Stendhal greatly admired this poem, declaring that it filled a gap in French literature, being the French equi- valent for " Faust " and " Manfred " of which Germany and England are so justly proud. Its author was only twenty-two years old. In the autumn of 1835, Alfred de Musset departed for Italy. He returned the April following, scarce re- covered from a brain fever of which he had come near dying at Venice. Feeble as he was through the year 1834, he had written two of his most remarkable works " One May not Fool with Love," and " Lorenzaccio." One of his friends having remarked to him, that in the first of these two works, certain details seemed to belong to the last century, others to the present time, he answered smiling, " Can you tell me of what time man is, and under what reign woman has lived?" The latter work, dealing. with events in Florence under the sway of Lorenzo de Medici, is not yet known and ap- preciated as it deserves to be. While this poem was going through the press, Alfred went to Baden, seeking relaxation for four months of hard work and strict seclu- sion in his study. From this journey he brought back the subject of his poem. "A Good Fortune," proving that the relaxation had borne excellent fruits. The year 1835 is- one of the most fruitful as well as one of the most agitated in the life of Alfred de Musset. June'lst he published " Lucia " and a fortnight after ALFRED DE MUSSET. 107 ' The Night of May." Then come " Barberina's Distaff," and " The Confessions of a Child of the Century." Between these glowing pages where he traced so sombre a picture of the evils of despair, he interrupted himself to improvise in a few days, " The Chandelier," which is assuredly one of his merriest comedies. About this time, Alfred de Musset fell in love with the pretty woman to whom he addresses the stanzas ''To Ninon." Jealousy on his part caused the ship- wreck of this love. He was stunned by the blow, but only for the moment. Happily it is not always true that " The mouth keeps silence when the heart speaks ! " The first cry torn from this new wound is the " Decem- ber Night," which is no continuation of the " Night of May," and has' its source in sentiments of a very differ- ent order. This beloved one is no other than the Emme- line of the " Confessions." She occupies a considerable place in the works of Alfred de Musset ; to her we owe two of his most admired poems, and his best prose writings. Musset had still one lady friend whose almost mater- nal affection was extremely dear to him. The Duchess de Castries, to all the advantages of intellect united the rare qualities of a noble character. Chained to her arm- chair by an incurable malady of which she never spoke, always occupied with others in the midst of incessant sufferings, this courageous woman existed only through the heart and the intelligence. Her life was a continual example of patience and resignation, and this example could not fail to exercise some influence over the most impatient young fellow in the world. She had a very small court composed of young women and intimate friends, who came to divert and console her. Alfred de Musset saw her very often. " When I have need of cour- age," said he, " I know where it is to be found." The 108 LIFE PORTRAITS. duchess read a great deal, she was conversant with all the literary novelties, which she criticized for herself with a pure, even severe taste, and with a judgment perfectly well informed. Upon the evening of the first representation of " A Caprice," she went to hear it. De- spite her age and infirmities, she survived the poet she had loved as a son. None ever dared speak ill of Alfred de Musset in her presence. Musset's writings in 1836, show that he was then en- joying great freedom of heart and mind. First comes " We Should Swear by Nothing," the " August Night," and "Stanzas on the Death of Malibran," follow. In these latter lines he had to express a general sentiment, and regrets shared by all the world. This time his poetical sensibility was moved by the sorrow of others rather than his own. In his " Letters from Two Dwellers in the Ferte sous Jouarre; "he treats several questions of literary criticism with a comic verve and a sort of wit that recalls Paul Louis Courier. These essays excited great curiosity ; their continuation was demanded, but our poet had little taste for criticism. In his opinion the best warfare to wage upon bad books is to produce good ones. He abandoned the Letters, and wrote " A Caprice." All the world knows the whimsical fortune of this comedy. In its journey from the office of the Ilevue des Dexu Mondes to the Rue Richelieu the " Caprice'' passed through Saint-Petersburg, and was ten years on the way. ALFKED DE MUSSET. 109 II, Alfred do Musset was naturally confiding and even credulous. Se defendant de crotre au mal, Cornme d'un crime. As he wrote in one of his last poems. But he could not rely upon himself to ignore what experience had taught him. From a lesson of deception came the " Oc- tober Night," which may be considered a continuation' of the " May Night," although written two years after. Up to this time Musset had written no novels. He wished to attempt this species of literature which Boc- caccio, Cervantes and Me'rimee, have elevated to the level of poetry, comedy and tragedy. The first subject which occurred to him was " Emmeline." The success of this recital encouraged him. In the eighteen months following the first of August, 1839, he composed six novels, whose titles it is needless to repeat here. The one the author esteemed best is the " Fils de Lilien; " he had remarked the subject at the same time as that of " Andre del Sarto," in a history of Italian painting. When he had finished these six little romances, he stop- ped, saying he had enough of prose. But during these eighteen months he had not neglected poetry ; upon three different occasions, he had returned to his first love. One day, upon opening a volume of Spinoza, he felt greatly incensed at the demonstrative formulas of thi philosopher, and in spirit engaged in a discussion with him. This redoubtable reasoner had not the power to persuade him. Once upon this ground, he set himself 110 LIFE POETRAITS. to reading, night and day, with his habitual ardor, all the books which have - treated of that it is forbidden man to know. This grand problem had often agitated him. Never had he lifted his eyes to heaven to contem- plate the infinite, without experiencing a sort of resent ment at seeing and still not comprehending. At such a moment he must have uttered his despairing cry ? "I cannot rest; despite myself, the infinite torments me." But at another moment of poetic exaltation, he replied to the great skeptical thinkers with whom he had been mentally contending, by his poem, " Hope in God." In 1837, Alfred de Musset received the offer of a place as attache to the Spanish embassy at Madrid. His talents, his personal appearance, his perfect knowledge of the world, rendered him peculiarly fitted for such a post. Some years earlier, he would have been delighted to accept it; but now, although still very young, he could not summon courage to break the ties of habit, family and friendship which bound him to Parisian life. His refusal gave no offence, and he testified his gratitude for the good intentions of the Prince Royal, through whom this honor had been offered him, by publishing a poem on the birth of the Count de Paris, which did not contain a single line of flattery. At the close of the year 1838, two newly-risen stars of the first lustre dawned upon Paris. Pauline Garcia, aged eighteen, arrived from Brussels, and began to sing in some salons, Rachel also made her first appearance at the Comedie Franchise. Alfred de Musset took an ex- treme interest in the success of these young artistes. When he saw Rachel attacked by the dramatic critics, he was stirred up to break lances in her defence. Rachel, pleased with such championship, made the poet promise ALFRED DE MUSSET. Ill to write her a tragedy ; but ere it was finished, this in- constant woman seemed to have changed her mind, or -to have forgotten all about the matter. Two or three times, guided by a vague instinct, she returned to Mus- set for a r81e, and he, seduced by her grace and those wonderful powers of fascination she knew so well how to exercise, when caprice or interest demanded, only too readily promised to fulfil her request. But the desired role was scarce begun ere she would again relapse into indifference and neglect. For this reason, these two whose accord would have been so fruitful to the world of art, became involved in a serious quarrel, and were reconciled only on the eve of Rachel's departure for America. The relations between Pauline Garcia and Musset were most friendly, the cantatrice finding in the poet a warm admirer and indulgent critic. But the public received the young singer somewhat coldly, and she resolved to seek her fortune in foreign lands. Musset's verses en- titled " Adieu," seem to have been addressed to Mile. Garcia on her departure for England or Russia. As on one side the beautiful illusions vanished, on the other came anxieties of incontestable reality. As a result of his abandonment of prose Musset was now suffering from financial embarrassment. Though habit- ually lavish in his expenditures, a debt, to a nature like his, was a remorse. The debt once contracted, his most simple method of defraying it was to set about writing a goodly number of pages. But enforced composition is not well for poets, and Musset did not wish to attempt it. One day, he conceived the idea of seeking a remedy for his sufferings in writing a recital of a poet condemn- ed by necessity to work at that which he despised. He wrote forty pages on this subject, pages of heart-rending pathos. They met no eye but that of his brother and 112 LIFE PORTRAITS. his friend Tattet. An unforeseen event relieved our poet from embarrassment, and the work was never finish- ed. M. Charpentier came to him with a proposal to issue an edition of his* works which would bring them within the reach of persons of small fortune. The works issued in this form, made a revolution in the book trade, and passed through twenty editions. In the midst of his financial troubles, Musset had found an obstinate pleasure in obeying the unlucrative caprices of his Muse. During these six agitated months, sonnets, songs and idyls came faster than ever from his pen, but the only one of these pieces known to the pub- lic is the " Adieu." He found a peculiar charm in these little compositions, because they did not seem work, and changed into poetry passing impressions and un- foreseen circumstances. Criticism then was no more avaricious of praises than it is to-day ; it lavished them with the same profusion upon charlatanism and mediocrity, but it did not fail to deny to Alfred de Musset the rank that was his due so long as such denial was in its power. Now, chiding his modesty, it treated him as a school-boy from whom something might be hoped in the future ; now it asked him when he would end his essays, and give the world the full measure of his talent. From 1838 to 1841, ho had published, besides his two first volumes of poetry, thirty-five works of great diversity of character, which to-day do honor to French literature in all the countries of the earth. Musset, deeply feeling the injustice of the critics, declared that he had for years been a literary man by profession, and had performed all the duties of that office ; that henceforth, he would be a poet and nothing but a poet, that he would write verses when he felt in the mood for it, but nothing more. His friends expostulated, but it was in vain. ALFRED DE MUSSET. 113 Imaginative literature had then reached one of its climacteric epochs. The journals had instituted the serial romance. At an early age the monster gave evidence of what enormities it would be capable as it grew to maturity. tk When Racine and Moliere wrote for Louis XIV. and his court," said Alfred de Musset, " they had to satisfy an exacting public, too refined, perhaps, often frivolous and disdainful, but the very difficulty of pleasing kept the artist or writer wide awake, and forced him to do his best. To-day, one has only to amuse an ignorant mob. Why speak good French to it ? It would not understand. As for myself, I have nothing to say to this mob." In fine, to all arguments for breaking his silence he replied with better ones for keeping it. But when the Muse came of her own accord to seek him, he received her gladly. A public misfortune changed his ill-humor and ennui into discouragement. He had a sincere affec- tion for the Duke of Orleans, and had built great hopes on the future reign of this young prince ; hopes not for himself, but for art and letters. More than once his old schoolfellow had said to him that although there could be no new renaissance, they might be sure of seeing again in France a court amorous of beautiful things, and absorbed in intellectual pleasures. Suddenly, he found that these hopes were only chimeras. He felt a profound sorrow at the death of the prince royal, a sorrow which for a year he could find no words to express. Then he poured forth his love, his admiration and hTs regret. He had not published a line of prose for three years, when he consented to write for an editor who had shown him great friendship, the " Merle Blanc." Designing only a bagatelle, he composed a little masterpiece, of subtle allegory and harmless criticism. Later, the same 114 LIFE PORTRAITS. editor obtained from him the little story of "Mimi Pinson " for an illustrated publication. Alfred de Musset had no great zeal for the service of the National Guard. They shut up the recalcitrant poet in prison, and he rhymed gaily on his captivity. He was soon released. Weary of reproaches for his idleness, but resolved to write only as the impulse seized him, in the spring of 1845, he fled to his maternal uncle, a subprefect in the Vosges. He visited many places, roaming over the mountains and from town to town. Three months away from Paris was a great deal for him ; he returned in August. Since the death of the Duke of Orleans, a sort of languor and palsy had stricken all. Lamartine had said that France was ennuyed at this time, and Musset felt the lamentable truth of the words. He regretted having been born in this age of transition, amid a distracted generation with no passion but for money and -stock- jobbing, no taste but for bric-a-brac. People then spoke less modestly than to-day of the progress of our age ; the conquests of science over matter had not consojed them for the loss of the ideal. Our poet sought around him for some flash of genius, and found it only in the impersona- tions of Rachel. He did not miss one of them. Later, when Madame Ristori came to France, he saw her thirty times in the rSle of Mirra. Italian music remained one of his consolations. " Without Rossini and Rachel, it would not be worth while to live," he often said. He did not dream of ranking himself among the brilliant lights of poetry and genius. " I know that I am making my furrow in this wearisome age," he said, " but they will perceive it only after my death." The public took his silence and his disdain for inability. These malevolent insinuations could have upon a mind ALFRED DE MUSSET. 115 haughty as his, no other effect than to augment his disdain and his silence. From 1845 to 1847, he published nothing but three or four sonnets; yet these were of his best, as if to show the world that his silence was volunta- ry, and that his muse had lost neither verve nor gayety. An unexpected event somewhat changed this disdain- ful mood. Madame Allan-Desproux was playing the " Caprice " in Saint Petersburgh, and the manager of the Theatre Fran^ais wished its representation in Paris. The great actress was prevailed upon to assume the principal role, and the success of the piece proved that the public had still a taste for Musset's refined works. Other pieces of his followed, adding greatly to his reputa- tion. This tardy stroke of fortune roused Musset from his contemptuous indifference, and gave him a new heart for work. He wrote several comedies, among them " Carmosine," which he considered one of his best. Mile. Rachel was like the Roman women she repre- sented so well, who, according to Plutarch, ran after fortunate people. Seeing the success of Musset's late pieces, she again besieged him for a rQle. She went to see him, she several times invited him to dinner, she wrote him almost tender letters. She did better than to urge him to write her a role, she inspired him. He decided upon " Faustina " as his subject. But unhappily his piece " Bcttina," just then being represented at the Gymnasium, was coldly received, and Rachel changed her mind. The invitations, the visits, the gracious notes, all ceased. Rachel demanded nothing more, and feigned to have forgotten her author, as she had been calling Musset in her letters. " Faustina " was never finished. It exists as a fragment among our author's posthumous works. The fragment is so excellent, that we know not 116 LIFE PORTRAITS. which most to deplore, the inconstancy of the great actress or the excessive sensibility of the poet. The Academy opened its doors to Alfred de Musset, and when he pronounced his eulogy upon M. Dupaty, whom he succeeded, all were astonished at his fine manners and his youth. But few of the members had known him before, except by name. His next work was " Augustus, Dream," a poem afterwards set to music for the stage by Gounod. The Moniteur demanded a novel ; he wrote La Mouche, a fresh, graceful composition. The following year, he wrote his last work, L'Ane et le Ruisseau. In childhood Alfred de Musset had been subject to palpitations of the heart of an alarming character, but at twenty, he enjoyed such robust health that fatigue was unknown to him. After 1840, he had an occasional touch of the old malady, and a severe regimen was prescribed to him, which he would not follow. When a year or two before his death, he was reproached by his brother for trifling with life and health, he answered, " I have already passed the age when I would have been glad to die." In 1855, the progress of the disease became rapid. A frequent sensation of stoppage at the heart was the certain, sign of an affection of the aortic valves. But none thought death so near, when on the night of May 2d, 1857, his heart ceased to beat forever. He had died, thinking he was falling asleep, in his very last moments preoccupied with his brother's interests more than with his own, and forming projects for a distant future they were both to share. 'Alfred de Musset was of medium height, elegant in form, with an exquisite ease and polish of manner. Pie had blonde hair, naturally curling and very abundant, a complexion of rare freshness, an aquiline nose, blue ALFEED DE MUSSET. 117 ej es, a firm glance, an expressive mouth. To his last day, " he had the May upon his cheeks " like Fantasio, and he appeared younger than he really was. In con- versation he was ordinarily witty and gay, laughing with- out effort. He knew how to draw out others, and to place all around him at their ease. He threw a charm over even the simplest subject, and you often perceived the profundity of his thoughts only in musing upon them after his departure. With women he Avas an especial favorite, and young girls took great delight in his society, so diverting and yet so elevating. His natural inclination for all the arts was so great, that if poetry had not been his imperious vocation, his genius would have found expression elsewhere. His family and friends have preserved some very remarkable drawings by his hand. Passing a month at the chateau of his cousin, Adolphe de Musset, he filled two albums with pictures ; they are, for the most part, caricatures of very striking resemblance, and were executed from memory with a boldness and freedom of touch in which we recognize the designer and the painter. Alfred de Musset never deserted poetry ; he knew no weariness of verse, which he has called " that limpid and beautiful language, the world neither understands nor speaks." He was not a utilitarian, but he was useful in teaching men to see clearly into their own souls, in clothing in sublime, beautiful words, what they felt without the power of expressing it ; in securing for them precious hours of forgetfulness, of consolation, of tender- ness and of amusement. The day folio wing his death, the journals were unani- mous in the expressions of their regret. Fame, which he had called " TJicit 'tirdif plfint, a i'ovr nf tliv tmnb," sprang up upon hLs tomb, a;ul \vith such splendor and 118 LIFE PORTRAITS. rapidity, that envy soon arose more wrathful than ever, His works, his character, his private life even, were assailed. That impious warfare still endures, but it will have an end. The assaults of his detractors already recoil upon themselves. A day will come when the life of this poet will be better understood, when none will dare insult his memory. The world will then render justice to him who no longer gives umbrage to any vanity. Alfred de Musset never did wrong, never wished wrong to any one. He was amiable, generous, and above all, sincere. He too could have spoken of himself those words of deepest meaning which he has placed in the mouth of Perdican: " It is I who have lived, and not a fictitious being, created by my pride or my ennui." To the perhaps too partial estimate of his brothers character given by M. Paul de Musset, we append these concluding words of an essay upon the poet by Eugene de Mirecourt : " Alfred de Musset was an erratic poet, a victim of the corruption of others rather than of his own. It is he who has written these lines, which should make the boldest youth of our century shudder: " ' Poisoned from youth with the writings of the ency- clopaedists, I early imbibed the sterile rnilk of impiety. Human pride, that god of insanity and egotism, closed my mouth to prayer. How miserable are those men who have ever railed at that which can save a human soul ! I was born in a corrupt age. I have much to expiate. Pardon, O Christ, those who blaspheme ! ' " The poet grew grave and sad in his later years. They said that the dignities of the Academy pressed heavily upon him, little dreaming that his nature had grown deeper and more reverent. Had he lived, he would doubtless have expiated the literary sins of his youth. VICTOR HUGO.* WHEN France crosses the gulf of revolution, it is rare that she does not disinherit some of her noblest sons. Victor Hugo, like Alighieri driven from Florence by the Guelphs, was doomed for long years to sigh and chafe upon a foreign soil. It does not belong to us to write the history of the politician, we have to do only with that of the poet. Of an ancient and valiant family of Lorraine, ennobled upon the battle-field, Victor Hugo was born at Besan- ^on, in 1803. His father, a general in the service of Joseph Buonaparte, then king of Naples, was chosen to conduct the warfare against Fra Diavolo, a terrible brigand, the horror of all Italy. He succeeded in rout- ing the band, and then accompanying Joseph Buona- parte to Spain, he won great distinction by his military science. He did not recross the Pyrenees until 1814, when Napoleon sent him to the defence of Thionville. With a handful of men, he kept back the entire armies of the Cossacks and Prussians from the ramparts con- fided to his protection. In early childhood Victor Hugo travelled through Italy and Spain. The sun of the South with its most * Portraits et Silhouettes. By Eugene