YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY PARIS AND THE PARISIANS IN 1835. VOL. II Preparing for publication, by the same Author, In 3 vols, post Svo. with 15 Characteristic Engravings. THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF JONATHAN JEFFERSON WHITLAW; SCENES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. PAIIIS ANB THE TARISIA: iroi.,2. .o^-^'"' t -A. «-^ ^ \ \\ ^ \ 4 ^ Hwi 'tm '^^1 k^^ f "AffisTVievi ~»^,¦^s^ -^x-^ I. O W B O TJ : HICHAmU BENTIUEY, WE^Sr BUmUSTGITOW STREKT, PiiilhiliskeTin OidimaiytoHis Majesty: 183 6. PAIIIS AND THE PARISIANS IN 1835. BY FRANCES TROLLOPE, AUTHOR OF "DOMESTIC MANNERS-X)F THE AMERICANS," "TREMORDYN CLIFF," &c. ' Lepire des H&ts, c'est I'^tatpopulaiie." — Cohneille. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, Publfei&nr fu (©rtmarg to Wi dIMajtfitg. 1836. EcLf V, 2- l"h Y^"? LONDON : PRINTED EY SAMUEL BENTLEY, Dorset Street, Fleet Street. CONTENTS THE SECOND VOLUME. LETTER XLIII. Peculiar Air of Frenchwomen. — Impossibility that an Englishwoman should not be known for such in Paris. — Small Shops. — Beautiful Flowers, and pretty arrangement of them Native Grace. — Disappearance of Rouge. — Grey Hair. — Every article dearer than in London. — All tempta tions to smuggling removed. Page 1 LETTER XLIV. Exclusive Soirees Soiree Doctrinaire. — Due de Broglie. — Soiree Republicaine. — Soir6e Royaliste. — Partie Imp6riale. — Military Greatness. — Dame de I'Empire. . . 11 LETTER XLV. L'Abb6 Lacordaire — Various Statements respecting him. — Poetical description of Notre Dame. — ^The Prophecy of a Roman Catholic. — Les Jeunes Gens de Paris — Their omni potence. ........ 22 LETTER XLVI. La Tour de Nesle 3'' VOL, II. b VI CONTENTS. LETTER XLVII. Palais Royal. — Variety of Characters. — Party of English. — Restaurant Galerie d'Orleans. — Number of Loungers. — Convenient abundance of Idle Men. — Theatre du Vaude ville. Page 49 LETTER XL VIIL Literary Conversation. — Modern Novelists. — Vicomte d'Arlincourt — His Portrait. — Chateaubriand. — Bernardin de Saint Pierre. — Shakspeare. — Sir Walter Scott. — French familiarity with English Authors. — Miss Mitford. — Miss Landon. — Parisian passion for Novelty. — Extent of general Information 62 LETTER XLIX. Trial by Jury. — Power of the Jury in France- — Compara tive insignificance of that vested in the Judge. — Virtual Abo lition of Capital Punishments. — 'Flemish Anecdote. . 75 LETTER L. English Pastry-cooks. — French horror of English Pas try. — Unfortunate experiment upon a Muffin. — The Citizen King 85 LETTER LI. Parisian Women — Rousseau's failure in attempting to de scribe them — Their great influence in Society — Their grace in Conversation — Difficulty of growing old Do the ladies of France or those of England manage it best? . 92 LETTER LII. La Sainte Chapelle. — Palais de Justice. — Traces of the Revolution of 1830. — Unworthy use made of La Sainte Chapelle. — Boileau. — Ancient Records. . . 105 CONTENTS. vii LETTER LIII. French ideas of England. — Making love — Precipitate retreat of a young Frenchman. — Different methods of arranging Marriages. — English Divorce. — English Restau- rans Page 116 LETTER LIV. Mixed Society. — Influence ofthe English Clergy and their Families — Importance of their station in Society. . 132 LETTER LV. Le Grand Opera — Its enormous Expense — Its Fashion — ¦ Its acknowledged Dulness. — 'La Juive' — Its heavy Music — Its exceeding Splendour — Beautiful management of the Scenery — National Music 143 LETTER LVI. The Abbe Deguerry — His eloquence. — Excursion across the water. — Library of Ste. Genevieve. — Copy-book of the Dauphin. — St. Etienne du Mont.— Pantheon. . 156 LETTER LVII. Little Suppers. — Great Dinners. — Affectation of Gour- mandise. — Evil effects of " dining out." — Evening Parties. — Dinners in private under the name of Luncheons. — Late Hours 166 LETTER LVIII. Hopital des Enfans Trouves — Its doubtful advantages — Story of a Child left there 177 LETTER LIX. Proces Monstre — Dislike ofthe Prisoners to the ceremony of Trial. — Soci6t6 des Droits de I'Homme— Names given to vm CONTENTS. th e Sections. — Kitchen and Nursery Literature. — Anecdote of Lagrange. — Republican Law. . . . Page 201 LETTER LX. Memoirs of M. Chateaubriand. — The Readings at L'Ab- baye-aux-Bois — Account of these in the French Newspapers and Reviews. — Morning at the Abbaye to hear a portion of these Memoirs The Visit to Prague. . . .212 LETTER LXI. Jardin des Plantes — Not equal in beauty to our Zoological Gardens. — La Salpetriere — Anecdote. — ^Les Invalides — Dif ficulty of finding English Colours there — The Dome. 232 LETTER LXII. Expedition to Montmorency. — Rendezvous in the Passage Delorme. — St. Denis — Tomb prepared for Napoleon. — The Hermitage. — Diner sur I'herbe 241 LETTER LXIII. George Sand 258 LETTER LXIV. " Angelo Tyran de Padoue" — Burlesque at the Theatre du Vaudeville. — Mademoiselle Mars — Madame Dorval. Epigram 270 LETTER LXV. Boulevard des Italiens — Tortoni's Thunder-storm Church of the Madeleine — Mrs. Butler's « Journal." 292 CONTENTS. ix LETTER LXVI. A pleasant Party. — Discussion between an Englishman and a Frenchman. — National Peculiarities. . Page 302 LETTER LXVII. Chamber of Deputies. — Punishment of Journalists. — In stitute for the Encouragement of Industry. — Men of Ge nius 313 LETTER LXVIIL Walk to the March6 des Innocens. — Escape of a Canary Bird. — A Street Orator. — Burying-place of the Victims of July. 323 LETTER LXIX. A Philosophical Spectator. — Collection of Baron Sylves- tre. — H6tel des Monnaies. — MusSe d'Artillerie. . 335 LETTER LXX. Concert in the Champs Elysees. — Horticultural Exhibi tion. — Forced Flowers Republican Hats — Carlist Hats — Juste-Milieu Hats. — Popular Funeral. . . 347 LETTER LXXI. Minor French Novelists 360 LETTER LXXII. Breaking-up of the Paris Season. — Soirge at Madame Re- camier's. — Recitation; — Storm. — Disappointment. — Atone ment. — Farewell. . . . . . .371 POSTSCRIPT 379 EMBELLISHMENTS THE SECOND VOLUME. Soirie Le Roi Citoyen ..... Prfetres de la Jeuue France . Lecture a I'Abbaye-aux-Bois Boulevard des Italiens " V'lk les restes de notre Revolution de Juillet" Page 20 88 158 228294328 PARTS AND THE PARISIANS IN 1885. LETTER XLIII. Peculiar Air of Frenchwomen. — Impossibility that an Eng lishwoman should not be known for such in Paris. — Small Shops. — Beautiful Flowers, and pretty arrangement of them. — Native Grace. — Disappearance of Rouge. — Grey Hair. — Every article dearer than in London. — All temp tations to smuggling removed. Considering that it is a woman who writes to you, I think you will confess that you have no reason to complain of having been overwhelmed with the fashions of Paris : perhaps, on the con trary, you raay feel rather disposed to grumble because all I have hitherto said on the fertile sub ject of dress has been alraost wholly devoted to the historic and fanciful costume of the republi cans. Personal appearance, and all that concerns it, is, however, a very important feature in the VOL. IL ^ 2 PECULIAR AIR OF FRENCHWOMEN. daily history of this showy city ; and although in this respect it has been made the model of the whole world, it nevertheless contrives to retain for itself a general look, air, and effect, which it is quite in vain for any other people to attempt imitating. Go where you will, you see French fashions ; but you must go to Paris to see how French people wear them. The dome of the Invalides, the towers of Notre Dame, the column in the Place Venddme, the windmills of Montmartre, do not corae home to the mind as more essentially belonging to Paris, and Paris only, than does the aspect which caps, bonnets, frills, shawls, aprons, belts, buckles, gloves,-— and above, though below, all things else — which shoes and stockings assume, when worn by Parisian women in the city of Paris. It is in vain that all the women of the earth come crowding to this mart of elegance, each one with raoney in her sack suflScient to cover her from head to foot with all that is richest and best ; — ^it is in vain that she calls to her aid all the tailkuses, coiffeuses, ¦modistes, couturieres, cordon- niers, lingkres, and friseurs in the town : all she gets for her pains is, when she has bought, and done, and put on all and everything they have prescribed, that, in the next shop she enters, she hears one grisette behind the counter mutter to another, '" Voyez ce que desire cette dame an- ENGLISH PEOPLE EASILY RECOGNISED. 3 glaise;" — and that, poor dear lady! before she has spoken a single word to betray herself. Neither is it only the natives who find us out so easily — that might perhaps be owing to sorae little inexplicable freemasonry among themselves ; but the worst of all is, that we know one another in a raoment. " There is an Englishman," — " That is an Englishwoman," is felt at a glance, more rapidly than the tongue can speak it. That raanner, gait, and carriage, — that expres sion of raoveraent, and, if I may so say, of limb, should bQ at once so reraarkable and so impossi ble to iraitate, is very singular. It has nothing to do with the national differences in eyes and complexion, for the effect is felt perhaps more strongly in following than in meeting a person ; but it pervades every plait and every pin, every attitude and every gesture. Could I explain to you what it is which pro duces this effect, I should go far towards remov ing the impossibility of imitating it : but as this is now, after twenty years of trial, pretty generally allowed to be impossible, you will not expect it of me. All I can do, is to tell you of such raatters appertaining to dress as are open and intelligible to all, without attempting to dive into that very occult part of the subject, the effect of it. In raiUiners' phrase, the ladies dress much less in Paris than in London. I have no idea that B 21 4 A FRENCHWOMAN'S WARDROBE. any Frenchwoman, after her raorning dishabille is thrown aside, would raake it a practice, during " the season," to change her dress completely four tiraes in the course of the day, as I have known some ladies do in London. Nor do I believe that the most prhieuses in such matters among thera would deem it an insufferable breach of good raanners to her family, did she sit down to dinner in the sarae apparel in which they had seen her three hours before it. The only article of feraale luxury more gene rally indulged in here than with us, is that of cashmere shawls. One, at the very least, of these dainty wrappers makes a part of every young lady's trousseau, and is, I believe, exactly that part of the present which, as Miss Edgeworth says, often makes a bride forget ihefutur. In other respects, what is necessary for the wardrobe of a French woman of fashion, is neces sary also for that of an English one ; only jewels and trinkets of all kinds are more frequently worn with us than with them. The dress that a young Englishworaan would wear at a dinner party, is very nearly the sarae as a Frenchwoman would wear at any ball but a fancy one ; where as the most elegant dinner costume in Paris is exactly the same as would be worn at the French Opera. There are many extremely handsorae " rnaga- sins de nouveautes" in every part of the town, wherein raay be found all that the heart of woman can desire in the way of dress ; and there are smart coiffeuses and modistes too, who know well how to fabricate and recoraraend every production of their fascinating art : but there is no Howell and Jaraes's wherein to assemble at a given point all the fine ladies of Paris ; no reunions of tall footmen are to be seen lounging on benches out side the shops, and perforraing to the uninitiated the office of signs, by giving notice how many purchasers are at that moment engaged in cheap ening the precious wares within. The shops in general are very much smaller than ours, — or when they stretch into great length, they have uniformly the appearance of warehouses. A much less quantity of goods of all kinds is displayed for purposes of show and decoration, — unless it be in china shops, or where or-molu ornaments, pro tected by glass covers, forra the principal objects : here, or indeed wherever the articles sold can be exhibited without any danger of loss from in jury, there is very considerable display ; but, on the whole, there is much less appearance of large capital exhibited in the shops here than in London. One great source of the gay and pretty appear ance of the streets, is the nuraber and elegant ar rangement of the flowers exposed for sale. Along b PARISIANS LOVE all the Boulevards, and in every brilliant Passage (with which latter ornamental invention Paris is now threaded in all directions), you need only ^shut your eyes in order to fancy yourself in a de licious flower-garden ; and even on opening them again, if the delusion vanishes, you have some thing almost as pretty in its place. , Notwithstanding the multitudinous abomina tions of their streets — the prison-like locks on the doors of their salons, and the odious coramon stair which must be climbed ere one can get to thera — there is an elegance of taste and love of the grace ful about these people which is certainly to be found nowhere else. It is not confined to the spacious h&tels of the rich and great, but raay be traced through every order and class of society, down to the very lowest. The manner in which an old barrow-woman will tie up her sous' worth of cherries for her urchin customers might give a lesson to the most skilful decorator of the supper-table. A bunch of wild violets, sold at a price that may come within reach of the worst-paid soubrette in Paris, is ar ranged with a grace that might make a duchess covet them ; and I have seen the paltry stock-in- trade of a florist, whose only pavilion was a tree and the blue heavens, set off with such . feUcity in the raixture of colours, and the gradations of shape and forra, as made rae stand to gaze longer OF THE GRACEFUL. 7 and raore delightedly than I ever did before Flora's own palace in the King's Road. After all, indeed, I believe that the raystical peculiarity of dress of which I have been speaking wholly arises frora this innate and universal in stinct of good taste. There is a fitness, a pro priety, a sort of harmony in the various articles which constitute female attire, which may be traced as clearly amongst the cotton toques, with all their variety of brilliant tints, and the 'kerchief and aprou to match, or rather to accord, as araongst the most elegant bonnets at the Tuileries. Their expressive phrase of approbation for a well-dressed woraan, "faite a peindre," raay often be applied with quite as much justice to the peasant as to the princess ; for the same unconscious sensibility of taste will regulate them both. It is this national feeling which renders their stage groups, their corps de ballet, and all the tableaux business of their theatres, so greatly su perior to all others. On these occasions, a single blunder in colour, contrast, or position, destroys the whole harraony, and the whole charm with it : but you see the poor little girls hired to do angels and graces for a few sous a night, fall into the composition of the scene with an instinct as un erring, as. that which leads a flight of wild geese to cleave the air in a well-adjusted triangular phalanx, instead of scattering theraselves to every 8 ROUGE. — HEAD-DRESS. point of the compass ; as, par exemple, om figu rantes may be often seen to do, if not kept in order by the ballet-master as carefully as a huntsman whistles in his pack. It is quite a relief to my eyes to find how cora pletely rouge appears to be gone out of fashion here. I will not undertake to say that no bright eyes still look brighter from having a touch of red skilfully applied beneath them : but if this be done, it is so well done as to be invisible, excepting by its favourable effect ; which is a prodigious im provement upon the fashion which I well remem ber here, of larding cheeks both young and old to a degree that was quite frightful. Another improvement which I very greatly admire is, that the majority of old ladies have left off wearing artificial hair, and arrange their own grey locks with all the neatness and care possible. The effect of this upon their general appearance is extreraely favourable : Nature al ways arranges things for us much better than we can -do it for ourselves ; and the effect of an old face surrounded by a maze of wanton curls, black, brown, or flaxen, is infinitely less agreeable than when it is seen with its own " sable silvered" about it. I have heard it observed, and with great justice, that rouge was only advantageous to those who did not require it: and the same may be said with HIGH PRICE OF DRESS. 9 equal truth of false hair. Some of the towering pinnacles of shining jet that I have seen here, certainly have exceeded in quantity of hair the pos sible growth of any one head : but when this fabric surmounts a youthful face which seems to have a right to ^11 the flowing honours that the friseur's art can contrive to arrange above it, there is no thing incongruous or disagreeable in the effect; though it is almost a pity, too, to mix anything approaching to deceptive art with the native glories of a young head. For which sentiment messieurs les fabricans of false hair will not thank me ; — for having first interdicted the use of borrowed tresses to the old ladies, I now pronounce my disapproval of them for the young. Au reste, all I can tell you farther respecting dress is, that our ladies must no longer expect to find bargains here in any article required for the wardrobe ; on the contrary, everything of the kind is become greatly dearer than in London : and what is at least equally against raaking such purchases here is, that the fabrics of various kinds which we used to consider as superior to our own, particularly those of silks and gloves, are now, I think, decidedly inferior ; and such as can be pur chased at the sarae price as in England, if they can be found at all, are really too bad to use. The only foreign bargains which I long to bring home with me are in porcelain : but this our cus- lO NO TEMPTATION TO SMUGGLE. tora- house tariff forbids, and very properly; as, without such protection, our Wedgewoods and Mortlakes would sell but few ornaraental articles ; for not only are their prices higher, but both their raaterial and the fashioning of it are in my opinion extreraely inferior. It is really very satisfactory to one's patriotic feelings to be able to say ho nestly, that excepting in these, and a few other ornaraental superfluities, such as or-molu and ala baster clocks, etcsetera, there is nothing that we need wish to smuggle into our own abounding land. II LETTER XLIV. Exclusive Soir6es — Soiree Doctrinaire. — Due de Broglie Soirge Republicaine. — Soiree Royaliste. — Partie Imperiale. — Military Greatness. — Dame de I'Empire. Though the salons of Paris probably show at the present moraent the raost raixed society that can be found mingled together in the world, one occasionally finds oneself in the midst of a set evi dently of one stamp, and indeed proclaiming itself to be so ; for wherever this happens, the assembly is considered as peculiarly chosen and select, and as having all the dignity of exclusiveness. The picture of Paris as it is, may perhaps be better caught at a glance at a party collected to gether without any reference to politics or prin ciples of any kind ; but I have been well pleased to find myself on three different occasions admitted to soirSes of the exclusive kind. At the first of these, I was told the names of most of the company by a kind friend who sat near me, and thus becarae aware that I had the honour of being in corapany with raost of King Philippe's present ministry. Three or four of these 12 SOIREE DOCTRINAIRE. gentlemen were introduced to rae, and I had the advantage of seeing de prh, during their hours of relaxation, the men who have perhaps at this moraent as heavy a weight of responsibility upon their shoulders as any set of rainisters ever sus tained. Nevertheless, nothing like gloora, preoccupation, or uneasiness, appeared to pervade them ; and yet that chiefest subject of anxiety, the Prochs Mon stre, was by no means banished frora their dis course. Their manner of treating it, however, was certainly not such as to make one believe that they were at all likely to sink under their load, or that they felt in any degree embarrassed or dis tressed by it. Some of the extravagances of les accuses were discussed gaily enough, and the general tone was that of men who knew perfectly well what they were about, and who found more to laugh at than to fear in the opposition and abuse they encoun tered. This light spirit however, which to me seemed fair enough in the hours of recreation, had better not be displayed on graver occasions, as it naturally produces exasperation on the part of the prisoners, which, however little dangerous it may be to the state, is nevertheless a feeling which should not be unnecessarily excited. In that arausing paper or magazine — I know not which may be its title^— called the " Chronique de Paris," ANECDOTE OF M. LE DUC DE BROGLIE. 1.3 I read sorae days ago a letter describing one of the stances of the Chamber of Peers on this proch, in which the gaiety raanifested by M. de Broglie is thus censured : — " J'ai fait moi-m6rae partie de ce public privilegi6 que les accus6s ne reconnaissent pas comme un vrai public, et j'ai pu assister jeudi a cette draraa- tique audience oil la voix tonnante d'un aceus6 lisant une protestation, a convert la voix du rainis- tfere public. J'^tais du norabre de ceux qui ont eu la fifev/e de cette scfene, et je n'ai pu comprendre, au milieu de I'agitation g6n6rale, qu'un homme aussi bien 6lev^ que M. de Broglie (je ne dis pas qu'un ministre) trouvat seul qu'il y avait la sujet de rire en lorgnant ce vrai Roraain, comparable a ces tribuns qui, dans les derniers temps de la republique, faisaient trembler les patriciens sur leurs chaises curules." " Ce vrai Romain," however, rather deserved to be scourged than laughed at ; for never did any criminal when brought to the bar of his country insult its laws and its rulers more grossly than the prisoner Beaune on this occasion. If indeed the accounts which reach us by the daily papers are not exaggerated, the outrageous conduct of the accused furnishes at every sitting sufBcient cause for anger and indignation, however unworthy it may be of inspiring anything approaching to a feeling of alarm : and the calm, dignified, and 14 SOIREE REPUBLICAINE. temperate raanner in which the Chamber of Peers has hitherto conducted itself may serve, I think, as an example to many other legislative asserablies. The rainisters of Louis-Philippe are very for tunate that the mode of trial decided on by them in this troublesorae business is likely to be carried through by the upper house in a manner so little open to reasonable animadversion. The duty, and a most harassing one it is, has been laid upon thera, as many think, illegally ; but the task has been imposed by an authority which it is their duty to respect, and they have entered upon it in a spirit that does thera honour. The second exclusive party to which I was fortunate enough to be adraitted, was in all re spects quite the reverse of the first. The fair raistress of the raansion herself assured me that there was not a single doctrinaire present. Here, too, the eternal subject of the Prods Monstre was discussed, but in a very different tone, and with feelings as completely as possible in opposition to those which dictated the lively and triumphant sort of persiflage to which I had before listened. Nevertheless, the conversation was any thing but triste, as the party was in truth par ticularly agreeable; but, amidst flashes of wit, sinister sounds that foreboded future revolutions grumbled every now and then like distant thunder. Then there was shrugging of shoulders, and shak- SOIREE ROYALISTE. 15 ing of heads, and angry laps upon the snuff-box ; and from time to time, araid the prattle of pretty women, and the well-turned gentillesses of those they prattled to, might be heard such phrases as, " Tout n'est pas encore fini" . . . . " Nous verrons . . . nous verrons" .... " S'ils sont arbitraires !" .... and the like. The third set was as distinct as raay be from the two former. This reunion was in the quartier St. Germain ; and, if the feeling which I know many would call prejudice does not deceive rae, the tone of first-rate good society was greatly more conspicuous here than at either of the others. By all the most briUiant personages who adorned the other two soirees which I have described, I strongly suspect that the most distinguished of this third would be classed as rococo ; but they were com posed of the real stuff that constitutes the true patrician, for all that. Many indeed were quite of the old regime, and many others their noble high-minded descendants : but whether they were old or young, — whether remarkable for having played a distinguished part in the scenes that have been, or for sustaining the chivalric principles of their race, by quietly withdrawing from the scenes that are, — in either case they had that air of in veterate superiority which I believe nothing on earth but gentle blood can give. There is a fourth class stiU, consisting of the 16 MEN OF THE EMPIRE. dignitaries of the Empire, which, if they ever assemble in distinct coramittee, I have yet to become acquainted with. But I suspect that this is not the case : one raay perhaps meet thera more certainly in some houses than in others; but, unless it be around the dome of the Invalides, I do not believe that they are to be found anywhere as a class apart. Nothing, however, can be less difficult than to trace thera: they are as easily discerned as a boiled lobster araong a panier full of such as are newly caught. That arausing little vaudeviUe called, I think, " La Dame de I'Empire," or sorae such title, contains the best portrait of a whole digue, under the features of an individual character, of any coraedy I know. None of the storray billows which have roUed over France during the last forty years have thrown up a race «o strongly marked as those produced by the miUtary era of the Erapire. The influence of the enorraous power which was then in action has assuredly in sorae directions left raost noble vestiges. Wherever science was at work, this power propelled it foi?ward; and ages yet unborn may bless for this the fostering patron age of Napoleon : sorae raidnight of devastation and barbarism must fall upon the world before what he has done of this kind can be obliterated. BOURBON AND IMPERIAL LADIES. 17 But the same period, while it brought forth from obscurity talent and enterprise which with out its influence would never have been greeted by the Ught of day, brought forward at the same time legions of men and women to whora this light and their advanced position in society are by no means advantageous in the eyes of a passing looker-on. I have heard that it requires three generations to make a gentleman. Those created by Napo leon have not yet fairly reached a second ; and, with all respect for talent, industry, and valour be it spoken, the necessity of this slow process very frequently forces itself upon one's convic tion at Paris. It is probable that the great refinement of the post-imperial aristocracy of France may be one reason why the deficiencies of those now often found mixed up with them is so remarkable. It would be difficult to imagine a contrast in manner more striking than that of a lady who would be a fair specimen of the old Bourbon noblesse, and a bouncing marechale of Iraperial creation. It seems as if every particle of the whole material of which each is formed gave evidence of the different birth of the spirit that dwells within. The sound of the voice is a contrast ; the glance of the eye is a contrast ; the smile is a contrast ; the step is a con trast. Were every feature of a dame de I'Empire VOL. II. c 18 PARVENUS OF THE PRESENT DAY. and a femme noble forraed precisely in the same mould, I am quite sure that the two would look no more alike than Queen Constance and Nell Gwyn. Nor is there at all less difference in the two races of gentlemen. I speak not of the men of science or of art ; their rank is of another kind : but there are still left here and there speciraens of decorated greatness which look as if they must have been dragged out of the guard-roora by raain force; huge raoustached miUtaires, who look at every slight rebuff as if they were ready to ex claim, " Sacr6 nom de D * * * ! je suis un h^ros, moi ! Vive I'Empereur !" A good deal is sneeringly said respecting the parvenus fashionables of the present day : but station, and place, and court favour, must at any rate give something of reality to the iraportance of those whom the last movement has brought to the top ; and this is vastly less offensive than the empty, vulgar, carap-like rerainiscences of Imperial patronage which are occasionally brought forward by those who raay thank their sabre for having cut a path for thera into the salons of Paris. The really great raen of the Erapire — and there are certainly raany of them — have taken care to have other clairas to distinction attached to their names than that of having been dragged out of heaven knows what profound obscurity by Napoleon : I ORIGINAL ARISTOCRACY RETURNING. 19 may say of such, in the words of the soldier in Macbeth— " If I say sooth, I must report they were As cannon overcharged with double cracks." As for the elderly ladies, who, from simple Uttle bourgeoises demoiseUes, were in those belligerent days sabred and trumpeted into mar^chales and ddchesses, I raust think that they make infinitely worse figures in a drawing-room, than those who, younger in years and newer in dignity, have all their blushing honours fresh upon them. Besides, in point of fact, the having one Bourbon prince instead of another upon the throne, though greatly to be lamented frora the manner in which it was accoraplished, can hardly be expected to produce so violent a convulsion among the aristocracy of France, as raust of necessity have ensued from the reign of a soldier of fortune, though the mightiest that ever bore arms. Many of the noblest races of France still remain wedded to the soil that has been for ages native to their name. Towards these it is believed that King Louis-Philippe has no very repulsive feel ings ; and should no farther changes corae upon the country — no raore iraraortal days arise to push all raen frora their stools, it is probable that the nuraber of these will not dirainish in the court circles. Meanwhile, the haut-ton born during the last c 2 20 A PARVENUE DUCHESS. revolution must of course have an undisputed entree everywhere ; and if by any external raarks they are particularly brought forward to observa tion, it is only, I think, by a toilet araong the la dies more costly and less siraple than that oftheir high-born neighbours ; and among the gentleraen, by a general air of prosperity and satisfaction, with an expression of eye sometiraes a little tri uraphant, often a little patronizing, and alVays a little busy. It was a duchess, and no less, who decidedly gave me the most perfect idea of an Imperial parvenue that I have ever seen off the stage. When a lady of this class attains so very elevated a rank, the perils of her false position multiply around her. A quiet bourgeoise turned into a noble lady of the third or fourth degree is likely enough to look a little awkward ; but if she has the least tact in the world, she may remain tran quU and sans ridicule under the honourable shelter of those above her. But when she becomes a duchess, the chances are terribly against her : " Madame la Duchesse" must be conspicuous ; and if in addition tp mauvais ton she should par mal heur be a bel esprit, adding the pretension of lite rature to that of station, it is likely that she will be very remarkable indeed. My parvenue duchess is very remarkable indeed. She steps out like a corporal carrying a message : Dravm.&Etciied IjyA.HeTvie E E Lontdon Publislied 'hy Richa-Td Bentley 1835. A PARVENUE DUCHESS. 21 her voice is the first, the last, and almost the only thing heard in the salon that she honours with her presence, — except it chance, indeed, that she lower her tone occasionally to favour with a whisper some gallant decore, military, scientific^ or artistic, of the same standing as herself; and moreover, she promenades her eyes over the com pany as if she had a right to bring thera aU to roll-call. Notwithstanding all this, the lady is certainly a person of talent ; and had she happily reraain ed in the station in which both herself and her husband were born, she might not perhaps have thought it necessary to speak quite so loud, and her bons mots would have produced infinitely greater effect. But she is so thoroughly out of place in the grade to which she has been un kindly elevated, that it seems as if Napoleon had decided on her fate in a humour as spiteful as that of Monsieur Jourdain, when he said — " Votre fille sera marquise, en d6pit de tout le monde : et si vous me raettez en colere, je la ferai duchesse." 22 LETTER XLV. L'Abb6 Lacordaire — Various Statements respecting him. — Poetical description of Notre Dame. — The prophecy of a Roman Catholic. — Les Jeunes Gens de Paris — Their om nipotence. The great reputation of another preacher in duced us on Sunday to endure two hours more of tedious waiting before the raass which preceded the serraon began. It is only thus that a chair can be hoped for when the Abbe Lacordaire mounts the pulpit of Notre Dame. The penalty is really heavy; but having heard this celebrated person described as one who " appeared sent by Heaven to restore France to Christianity"— as "a hypocrite that set Tartuffe immeasurably in the background" — as " a man whose talent surpassed that of ainy preacher since Bossuet" — and as " a charlatan who ought to harangue from a tub, instead of frora the chaire de Notr^ Dame de Paris," — I determined upon at least seeing and hearing him, however little I might be able to decide on which of the two sides of the prodigious chasm that yawned between his friends and enemies the truth was UNCIVIL ARRANGEMENT IN NOTRE DAME. 23 most likely to be found. There were, however, several circumstances which lessened the tedium of this long interval : I might go farther, and confess that this period was by no means the least profitable portion of the four hours which we passed in the church. On entering, we found the whole of the enor mous nave railed in, as it had been on Easter Sunday for the concert (for so in truth should that performance be called) ; but upon applying at the entrance to this enclosure, we were told that no ladies could be adraitted to that part of the church — but that the side aisles were fully fur nished with chairs, and afforded excellent places. This arrangeraent astonished me in many ways : — first, as being so perfectly un-national ; for go where you will in France, you find the best places reserved for the women, — at least, this was the first instance in which I ever found it otherwise. Next, it astonished me, because at every church I had entered, the congregations, though always crowded, had been composed of at least twelve woraen to one man. When, therefore, I looked over the barrier upon the close-packed, well- adjusted rows of seats prepared to receive fifteen hundred persons, I thought that unless all the priests in Paris came in person to do honour to their eloquent confrere, it was very unlikely that this uncivil arrangement should be found neces- 24 DESCRIPTION OF sary. There was no time, however, to waste in conjecture; the crowd already carae rushing in at every door, and we hastened to secure the best places that the side aisles afforded. We obtained seats between the pillars immediately opposite to the pulpit, and felt well enough contented, having little doubt that a voice which had made itself heard so well must have power to reach even to the side aisles of Notre Dame. The first consolation which I found for my long waiting, after placing myself in that attitude of little ease which the straight-backed chair allow ed, was from the recoUection that the interval was to be passed within the venerable walls of Notre Dame. It is a glorious old church, and though not comparable in any way to Westmin ster Abbey, or to Antwerp, or Strasburg, or Co logne, or indeed to many others which I might name, has enough to occupy the eye very satis factorily for a considerable time. The three ele gant rose-windows, throwing in their coloured Ught from north, west, and south, are of them selves a very pretty study for half an hour or so ; and besides, they brought back, notwithstanding their miniature diameter of forty feet, the reraera brance of the magnificent circular western win dow of Strasburg — the recollection of which was almost enough to while away another long in terval. Then I employed myself, not very sue- NOTRE DAME. 25 cessfuUy, in labouring to recollect the quaint old verses which I had fallen upon a few days before, giving the dimensions of the church, and which I will herewith transcribe for your use and amuse ment, in case you should ever find yourself sitting as I was, bolt upright, as we elegantly express ourselves when describing this ecclesiastical-Pari sian attitude, while waiting the advent of the Abbe Lacordaire. " Si tu veux savoir comme est ample De Notre Dame le grand temple, II y a, dans ceuvre, pour le seur, Dix et sept toises de hauteur, Sur la largeur de vingt-quatre, Et soixante-cinq, sans rebattre, A de long ; aux tours haut montees Trente-quatre sont comptees ; Le tout fondfe sur pilotis — Aussi vrai que je te le dis." While repeating this poetical description, you have only to reraember that une toise is the sarae as a fathora, — that is to say, six feet ; and then, as you turn your head in all directions to look about you, you will have the satisfaction of know ing exactly how far you can see in each. I had another source of amuseraent, and by no raeans a trifling one, in watching the influx of company. The whole building soon contained as many human beings as could be crammed into it ; and the seats, which we thought, as we took them, were very so-so places indeed, became ac- 26 CONGREGATION AT NOTRE DAME. comraodations for which to be most heartily thankful. Not a piUar but supported the backs of as raany men as could stand round it ; and not a jutting ornaraent, the balustrade of a side altar, or any other " point of 'vantage," but looked as if a swarm of bees were beginning to hang upon it. But the sight which drew my attention most was that displayed by the exclusive central aisle. When told that it was reserved for gentlemen, I imagined of course that I should see it filled by a collection of staid-looking, middle-aged. Catholic citizens, who were drawn together from all parts of the town, and perhaps the country too, for the purpose of hearing the celebrated preacher: but, to my great astonishraent, instead of this I saw pouring in by dozens at a tirae, gay, gallant, sraart-looking young men, such indeed as I had rarely seen in Paris on any other reUgious occa sion. Amongst these was a sprinkling of older men ; but the great raajority were decidedly under thirty. The meaning of this phenoraenon I could by no means understand ; but while I was tor raenting myself to discover sorae method of ob taining information respjecting it, accident brought relief to my curiosity in the shape of a communi cative neighbour. In no place in the world is it so easy, I believe, to enter into conversation with strangers as in COURTEOUS MODE OF REPLY. 27 Paris. There is a courteous incUnation to wel come every atterapt at doing so which pervades all ranks, and any one who wishes it may easily find or make opportunities of hearing the opi nions of all classes. The present time, too, is peculiarly favourable for this ; a careless freedom in uttering opinions of all kinds being, I think, the most reraarkable feature in the raanners of Paris at the present day. I have heard that it is difficult to get a tame, flat, short, matter-of-fact answer from a genuine Irishman ; — from a genuine Frenchman it is im possible : let his reply to a question which seeks inforraation contain as little of it as the dry An glicism " I don't know," it is never given without a tone or a turn of phrase that not only reUeves its inanity, but leaves you with the agreeable persuasion that the speaker would be more satis factory if he could, and raoreover that he would be extreraely happy to reply to any further ques tions you may wish to ask, either on the same, or any other subject whatever. It was in consequence of ray moving my chair an inch and a half to accommodate the long limbs of a grey-headed neighbour, that he was in duced to follow his " Milles pardons, madame !" with an observation on the inconvenience endured on the present occasion by the appropriation of all the best places to the gentlemen. It was 28 PROPHECY OF A ROMAN CATHOLIC. quite contrary, he added, to the usual spirit of Parisian arrangements ; and yet, in fact, it was the only means of preventing the ladies suffering from the tremendous rush of jeunes gens who con stantly came to hear the Abb§ Lacordaire. " I never saw so large a proportion of young raen in any congregation," said I, hoping he raight explain the raystery to rae. What I heard, how ever, rather startled than enlightened me. " The CathoUc religion was never so likely to be spread over the whole earth as it is at pre sent," he replied. " The kingdom of Ireland wiU speedily become fully reconciled to the see of Rome. Le Sieur O'Connell desires to be canon ized. Nothing, in truth, remains for that portion of your country to do, but to follow the example we set during our famous Three Days, and place a prince of its own choosing upon the throne." I am persuaded that he thought we were Irish Roman CathoUcs : our sitting with such exem plary patience to wait for the preaching of this new apostle was not, I suppose, to be otherwise ac counted for. I said nothing to undeceive him, but wishing to bring him back to speak of the con gregation before us, I replied, " Paris at least, if we may judge from the vast crowd coUected here, is more religious than she has been of late years." " France," replied he with energy, " as you " LES JEUNES GENS" AT CHURCH. 29 may see by looking at this throng, is no longer the France of 1823, when her priests sang can ticles to the tune of " Ca ira." France is happily become most deeply and sincerely Catholic. Her priests are once raore her orators, her magnates, her highest dignitaries. She raay yet give car dinals to Rome — and Rome may again give a minister to France." I knew not what to answer : my silence did not seem to please him, and I beUeve he began to suspect he had raistaken the party altogether, for after sitting for a few rainutes quite silent, he rose frora the place into which he had pushed hiraself with considerable difficulty, and making his way through the crowd behind us, disap peared ; but I saw him again, before we left the church, standing on the steps of the pulpit. The chair he left was instantly occupied by another gentleman, who had before found stand ing-room near it. He had probably remarked our sociable propensities, for he imraediately he gan talking to us. " Did you ever see anything like the fashion which this man has obtained ?" said he. " Look at those jeunes gens, madarae ! might one not fancy oneself at a preraifere representation ?" " Those raust be greatly mistaken," I replied, " who assert that the young men of Paris are not among hevfidhles." 30 ELOQUENCE OF " Do you consider their appearing here a proof that they are religious ?" inquired my neighbour with a sraile. " Certainly I do, sir," I replied : " how can I interpret it otherwise ?" " Perhaps not — ^perhaps to a stranger it must have this appearance ; but to a man who knows Paris . . ." He srailed again very expressively, and, after a short pause, added — " Depend upon it, that if a man of equal talent and eloquence with this Abbe Lacordaire were to deUver a weekly discourse in favour of atheism, these very identical young men would be present to hear him." " Once they might," said I, " from curiosity : but that they should follow him, as I understand they do, month after month, if what he uttered were at variance with their opinions, seeras almost inconceivable." " And yet it is very certainly the fact," he re plied : " whoever can contrive to obtain the repu tation of talent at Paris, let the nature of it be of what kind it may, is quite sure that les jeunes gens will resort to hear and see him. They be lieve themselves of indefeasible right the sole arbi trators of intellectual reputation ; and let the direction in which it is shown be as foreign as may be to their own pursuits, they come as a THE ABBE LACORDAIRE. 31 matter of prescriptive right to put their seal upon the aspirant's claim, or to refuse it." " Then, at least, they acknowledge that the Abba's words have power, or they would not grant their suffrage to him." " They assuredly acknowledge that his words have eloquence ; but if by power, you mean power of conviction, or conversion, I do assure you that they acknowledge nothing like it. Not only do I believe that these young raen are theraselves sceptics, but I do not imagine that there is one in ten of them who has the least faith in the Abba's own orthodoxy." " But what right have they to doubt it ? . . . . Surely he would hardly be permitted to preach at Notre Dame, where the archbishop hiraself sits in judgment on hira, were he otherwise than ortho dox?" " I was at school with him," he replied : " he was a fine sharp-witted boy, and gave very early deraonstrations of a raind not particularly given either to credulity, or subservience to any doctrines that he found puzzling." " I should say that this was the greatest proof of his present sincerity. He doubted as a boy — but as a man he believes." " That is not the way the story goes," said he. " But hark ! there is the bell : the raass is about to commence." 32 THE ABBfe LACORDAIRE. He was right : the organ pealed, the fine chant of the voices was heard above it, and in a few minutes we saw the archbishop and his splen did train escorting the Host to its ark upon the altar. During the interval between the conclusion of the mass and the arrival of the Ahh6 Lacordaire in the pulpit, ray sceptical neighbour again ad dressed rae. " Are you prepared to be very rauch enchanted by what you are going to hear ?" said he. " I hardly know what to expect," I replied : " I think my idea of the preacher was higher when I came here, than since I have heard you speak of hira." " You will find that he has a prodigious flow of words, much vehement gesticulation, and a very impassioned manner. This is quite sufficient to establish his reputation for eloquence among les jeunes gens." " But I presurae you do not yourself subscribe to the sentence pronounced by these young cri tics ?" " Yes, I do, — as far, at least, as to acknowledge that this man has not attained his reputation without having displayed great ability. But though all the talent of Paris has long consented to receive its crown of laurels frora the hands of her young men, it would be hardly reasonable to THE ABB]?: LACORDAIRE. 33 expect that their judgment should be as profound as their power is great." " Your obedience to this beardless synod is cer tainly very extraordinary," said I : " I cannot un derstand it." " I suppose not," said he, laughing ; " it is quite a Paris fashion ; but we all seem contented that it should be so. If a new play appears, its fate raust be decided by les jeunes gens ; if a pic ture is exhibited, its rank amidst the works of modern art can only be settled by them : does a dancer, a singer, an actor, or a preacher appear — a new member in the tribune, or a new prince upon the throne, — ^it is still les jeunes gens who must pass judgment on thera all ; and this judgraent is quoted with a degree of deference utterly in conceivable to a stranger." " Chut ! . . . chut !".... was at this raoment uttered by more than one voice near us : " le voilk !" I glanced ray eye towards the pulpit, but it was stiU erapty ; and on looking round rae, I perceived that aU eyes were turned in the direc tion of a small door in the north aisle, almost im mediately behind us. " II est entr6 la !" said a young woman near us, in a tone that seemed to indicate a feeling deeper than respect, and, in truth, not far reraoved from adoration. Her eyes were stUl earnestly fixed upon the door, and con- VOL. II. D 34 THE ABBE LACORDAIRE. tinned to be so, as weU as those of many others, tUl it reopened and a slight young man in the dress of a priest prepared for the chaire appeared at it. A verger made way for him through the crowd, which, thick and closely wedged as it was, feU back on each side of hira, as he proceeded to the pulpit, with much more docility than I ever saw produced by the clearing a passage through the intervention of a troop of horse. Silence the most profound accorapanied his pro gress ; I never witnessed raore striking demon strations of respect : and yet it is said that three- fourths of Paris believe this raan to be a hypo crite. As soon as he had reached the pulpit, and while preparing hiraself by silent prayer for the duty he was about to perform, a movement became per ceptible at the upper part of the choir ; and pre sently the archbishop and his splendid retinue of clergy were seen moving in a body towards that part of the nave which is immediately in front of the preacher. On arriving at the space reserved for them, each noiselessly dropped into his allotted seat according to his place and dignity, while the whole congregation respectfuUy stood to watch the ceremony, and seemed to " Admirer un si bel ordre, et reconnaitre I'gglise." It is easier to describe to you everything which THE ABBf; LACORDAIRE. 35 preceded the serraon, than the serraon itself. This was such a rush of words, such a burst and pour ing out of passionate declamation, that even be fore I had heard enough to judge of the matter, I felt disposed to prejudge the preacher, and to sus pect that his discourse would have more of the flourish and furbelow of human rhetoric than of the simplicity of divine truth in it. His violent action, too, disgusted me exceeding ly. The rapid and incessant movement of his hands, sometimes of one, sometimes of both, more reserabled that of the wings of a humraing-bird than anything else I can remeraber : but the hum proceeded from the admiring congregation. At every pause he made, and like the claptraps of a bad actor, they were frequent, and evidently faits exprfes : a little gentle laudatory murmur ran through the crowd. I reraeraber reading somewhere of a priest nobly born, and so anxious to keep his flock in their proper place, that they might not come " be tween the wind and his nobility," that his con stant address to them when preaching was, " Ca naille Chr^tienne !" This was bad — very bad, cer tainly ; but I protest, I doubt if the Abb6 Lacor- daire's manner of addressing his congregation as " Messieurs" was rauch less unlike the fitting tone of a Christian pastor. This mundane apo strophe was continually repeated throughout the D 2 36 THE ABBE LACORDAIRE. whole discourse, and, I dare say, had its share in producing the disagreeable effect I experienced from his eloquence. I cannot remeraber having ever heard a preacher I less liked, reverenced, and adraired, than this new Parisian saint. He made very pointed allusions to the reviving state of the Roman CathoUc Church in Ireland, and ana thematized pretty cordially all such as should op pose it. In describing the two hours' prologue to the mass, I forgot to mention that many young men — not in the reserved places of the centre aisle, but sitting near us, beguiled the tedious interval by reading. Some of the volumes they held had the appearance of novels frora a circulating li brary, and others were evidently collections of songs, probably less spiritual than spirituels. The whole exhibition certainly showed me a new page in the history of Paris as it is, and I therefore do not regret the four hours it cost me : but once is enough — I certainly will never go to hear the Abb6 Lacordaire again. 37 LETTER XLVI. La Tour de Nesle. It is, I believe, nearly two years ago since the very extraordinary draraa called " La Tour de Nesle" was sent rae to read, as a speclraen of the outrageous school of draraatic extravagance which had taken possession of all the theatres in Paris ; but I certainly did not expect that it would keep its place as a favourite spectacle with the people of this great and enlightened capital long enough for me to see it, at this distance of time, still played before a very crowded audience. That this is a national disgrace, is most certain : but the fault is less attributable to the want of good taste, than to the lamentable blunder which perraits every species of vice and abomination to be enacted before the eyes of the people, without any restraint or check whatever, under the notion that they are thereby permitted to enjoy a desir able privilege and a noble freedora. Yet in this same country it is illegal to sell a deleterious drug ! There is no logic in this. 38 FRENCH AND ENGLISH DRAMA. It is however an undeniable fact, as I think I have before stated, that the best class of Parisian society protest against this disgusting Ucense, and avoid — upon principle loudly proclaimed and avowed — either reading or seeing acted these de testable compositions. Thus, though the crowded audiences constantly assembled whenever they are brought forward prove but too clearly that such persons form but a small minority, their opinion is nevertheless sufficient, or ought to be so, to save the country from the disgrace of adraitting that such things are good. We seem to pique ourselves greatly on the su periority of our taste in these matters; but let us pique ourselves rather on our theatrical censor ship. Should the clamours and shoutings of mis rule lead to the abolition of this salutary restraint, the consequences would, I fear, be such as very soon to rob us of our present privilege of abusing our neighbours on this point. While things do reraain as they are, however, we may, I think, smile a little at such a judgraent as Monsieur de Saintfoix passes upon our thea trical corapositions, when comparing them to those of France. "Les actions de nos tragedies," says he, " sont pa- th^tiques et terribles ; celles des tragedies angloises sont atroces. On y met sous les yeux du specta- teur les objets les plus horribles; un mari qui SAINTFOIX'S THEATRICAL CRITICISM. 39 discourt avec sa femme, qui la caresse et l'^- trangle." Might one not think that the writer of this pas sage had just arrived from witnessing the famous scene in the " Monoraane," only he had mistaken it for English ? But he goes on — " Une fille toute sanglante - . . ." (Triboulet's daughter Blanche, for instance.) — " Apr^s I'avoir viol6e . . . ." He then proceeds to reason upon the subject, and justly enough, I think — only we should read England for France, and France for England. " II n'est pas douteux que les arts agr^ables ne reussissent chez un peuple qu'autant qu'ils en prennent le g^nie, et qu'un auteur draraatique ne sauroit espferer de plaire si les objets et les iraages qu'il pr6sente ne sont pas analogues au caract^re, au naturel, et au go6t de la nation : on pourroit done conclure de la difference des deux theatres, que rime d'un Anglais est sombre, f6roce, san- guinaire ; et que celle d'un Francais est vive, impatiente, eraportee, mais gen6reuse m^me dans sa haine; idolatrant I'honneur" — (just like Bu- ridan in this same drama of the Tour de Nesle — this popular production of la Jeune France — la France rtgtnkrke) — " idolatrant I'honneur, et ne cessant jamais de I'apercevoir, malgr6 le trouble et toute la violence des passions." Though it is irapossible to read this passage 40 SAINTFOIX'S THEATRICAL CRITICISM. without a smile, at a time when it is so easy for the English to turn the tables against this pa triotic author, one must sigh too, whUe reflecting on the lamentable change which has taken place in the moral feeling of revolutionised France since the period at which it was written. What would Saintfoix say to the notion that Victor Hugo had " heaved the ground from be neath the feet of CorneiUe and Racine" ? The question, however, is answered by a short sentence in his "Essais Historiques," where he thus ex presses himself : — " Je croirois que la decadence de notre nation seroit prochaine, si les horames de quarante ans n'y regardoient pas Corneille comme le plus grand g6nie qui ait jamais 6t6." If the spirit of the historian were to revisit the earth, and float over the heads of a party of Pa risian critics while pronouncing sentence on his favourite author, he might probably return to the shades unharmed, for he would only hear " Ro_ coco ! Rococo ! Rococo ! " uttered as by acclama tion ; and unskilled to coraprehend the new-born eloquence, he would doubtless interpret it as a re frain to express in one pithy word all reverence, adrairation, and delight. But to return to " La Tour de Nesle." The story is taken from a passage in Brant&me's his tory " des Femmes Galantes," where he says. LA TOUR DE NESLE. 4,1 "qu'une reine de France"— whora however he does not name, but who is said to have been Marguerite de Bourgogne, wife of Louis Dix — "se tenoit la {k la Tour de Nesle) d'ordinaire, laqueUe fesant le guet aux passans, et ceux qui lui revenoient et agr^oient le plus, de quelque sorte de gens que ce fussent, les fesoit appeler et venir k soy, et apr^s .... les fesoit pr^cipiter du haut de la tour en bas, en I'eau, et les fesoit noyer. Je ne veux pas," he continues, " assurer que cela soit vrai, mais le vulgaire, au raoins la plupart de Paris, I'affirme, et n'y a si commun qu'en lui montrant la tour seulement, et en I'in- terrogeant, que de lui-ra6me ne le die." This story one might imagine was horrible and disgusting enough ; but MM. Gaillardet et * * * (it is thus the authors announce themselves) thought otherwise, and accordingly they have introduced her raajesty's sisters, the ladies Jeanne and Blanche of Burgundy, who were both like wise raarried to sons of Philippe-le-Bel, the bro thers of Louis Dix, to share her nocturnal orgies. These " imaginative and powerful" scenic histo rians also, according to the fashion of the day among the theatrical writers of France, add incest to increase the interest of the drama. This is enough, and too rauch, as to the plot ; and for the execution of it by the authors, I can only say that it is about equal in literary raerit 42 LA TOUR DE NESLE. to the translations of an ItaUan opera handed about at the Haymarket. It is in prose — and, to my judgraent, very vulgar prose ; yet it is not only constantly acted, but I ara assured that the sale of it has been prodigiously great, and still continues to be so. That a fearful and even hateful story, dressed up in all the attractive charra of majestic poetry, and redeemed in some sort by the noble senti ments of the personages brought into the scenes of which it might be the foundation — that a draraa so formed might captivate the iraagina tion even while it revolted the feelings, is very possible, very natural, and nowise disgraceful either to the poet, or to those whom his talent may lead captive. The classic tragedies which long served as models to France abound in fables of this description. Alfieri, too, has raade use of such, following with a poet's wing the steady onward flight of reraorseless destiny, yet still sub lirae in pathos and in dignity, though appalling in horror. In like manner, the great French dramatists have triumphed by the power of their genius, both over the disgust inspired by these awful classic raysteries, and the unbending strict ness of the laws which their antique models enforced for their coraposition. If we raay herein deera the taste to have been fiaulty, the grace, the majesty, the unswerving LA TOUR DE NESLE. 43 dignity of the tragic march throughout the whole action — the lofty sentiments, the bursts of noble passion, and the fine drapery of stately verse in which the whole was clothed, must nevertheless raise our admiration to a degree that raay per haps almost compete with what we feel for the enchanting wildness and unshackled nature of our native dramas. But what can we think of those who, having ransacked the pages of history to discover what ever was most revolting to the human soul, should sit down to arrange it in action, detailed at full length, with every hateful circumstance exaggerated and brought out to view for the purpose of tickling the curiosity of his country men and countrywomen, and by that means be guiling them into the contemplation of scenes that Virtue would turn from with loathing, and before which Innocence must perish as she gazes? No gleam of goodness throughout the whole for the heart to cling to, — no thought of remorseful penitence, — no spark of noble feeling; nothing but vice, — low, groveUing, brutal vice, — from the raoraent the curtain rises to display the obscene spectacle, to that which sees it fall between the fictitious infaray on one side, and the real im purity left on the other ! As I looked on upon the hideous scene, and reraerabered the classic horrors of the Greek tra- 44 LA TOUR DE NESLE. gedians, and of the raighty imitators who have foUowed them^ I could not help thinking that the perforraance of MM. Gaillardet et * * * was exceedingly Uke that of a monkey miraicking the operations of a man. He gets hold of the same tools, but turns the edges the wrong way ; and instead of raising a majestic fabric in honour of human genius, he rolls the materials in mud, begrimes his own paws in the slimy ceraent, and then claws hold of every unwary passenger who comes within his reach, and bespatters him with the rubbish he has brought together. Such mon keys should be chained, or they will do rauch mischief. It is hardly possible that such draraas as the " Tour de Nesle " can be composed with the in tention of producing a great tragic effect ; which is surely the only reason which can justify bringing sin and misery before the eyes of an audience. There is in almost every human heart a strange love for scenes of terror and of woe. We love to have our sympathies awakened — our deepest feel ings roused ; we love to study in the raagic mirror of the scene what we ourselves raight feel did such awful visitations corae upon us ; and there is an unspeakable interest inspired by looking on, and fancying that were it so with us, we might so act, so feel, so suffer, and so die. But is there LA TOUR DE NESLE.' 45 in any land a wretch so lost, so vile, as to be capable of feeling sympathy with any sentiment or thought expressed throughout the whole pro gress of this " Tour de Nesle" ? God forbid ! I have heard of poets who have written under the inspiration of brandy and laudanum — the exhalations from which are certainly not likely to form themselves into images of distinctness or beauty ; but the inspiration that dictated the " Tour de Nesle" must have been something viler still, though not less powerful. It must, I think, have been the cruel calculation of how many dirty francs might be expressed from the pockets of the idle, by a spectacle new from its depth of atrocity, and attractive frora its newness. But, setting aside for a moment the sin and the scandal of producing on a public stage such a being as the woraan to whora MM. Gaillardet et * * * have chosen to give the name of Mar- gu6rite de Bourgogne, it is an object of some curiosity to examine the Uterary merits of a piece which, both on the stage and in the study, has been received by so many thousands — perhaps millions — of individuals belonging to " la grande nation " as a work deserving their patronage and support — or at least as deserving their attention and attendance for years ; years, too, of hourly progressive intellect — years during which the 46 LA TOUR DE NESLE. march of mind has outdone all former marches of huraan inteUigence — years during which Young France has been labouring to throw off her an cient coat of worn-out rococoism, and to clothe herself in new-fledged brightness. During these years she has laid on one shelf her once-venerated Corneille, — on another, her almost worshipped Ra cine. Moliere is named but as a fine antique; and Voltaire himself, spite of his strong claims upon their revolutionary affections, can hardly be forgiven for having said of the two whom Victor Hugo is declared to have overthrown, that " Ces hommes enseignferent a la nation, k penser, k sentir, k s'exprimer ; leurs auditeurs, instruits par eux seuls, devinrent enfin des juges s^v^res pour eux mfimes qui les avaient eclair^s." Let any one whose reason is not totally overthrown by the fever and delirium of innovation read the " Tour de Nesle," and find out if he can any single scene, speech, or phrase deserving the suffrage which Paris has accorded to it. Has the dialogue either dignity, spirit, or truth of nature to recora raend it ? Is there a single sentiraent through out the five acts with which an honest raan can accord ? Is there even an approach to grace or beauty in the tableaux ? or skill in the arrange ment of the scenes? or keeping of character among the demoniacal dramatis personts which MM. GaUlardet et * * * have brought together ? " JEUNES GENS" AT THE THEATRE. 47 or, in short, any one raerit to recoraraend it — except only its superlative defiance of common decency and comraon sense ? If there be any left among the men of France ; I speak not now of her boys, the spoilt grand chUdren of the old revolution ; — but if there be any left among her men, as I in truth believe there are, who deprecate this eclipse of her lite rary glory, is it not sad that they should be forced to permit its toleration, for fear they should be sent to Ham for interfering with the Uberty of the press ? It is impossible to witness the representation of one of these infamous pieces without perceiving, as you glance your eye around the house, who are its patrons and supporters. At no great dis tance frora us, when we saw the " Tour de Nesle," were three young men who had all of them a most thoroughly "jeunes gens" and republican cast of countenance, and tournure of person and dress. They tossed their heads and snuffed the theatrical air of " la Jeune France" as if they felt that they were, or ought to be, her raasters : and it is a positive fact that nothing pre-erainently absurd or offensive was done or said upon the stage, which this trio did not mark with particu lar admiration and applause. There was, however, such a saucy look of de terraination to do what they knew was absurd. 48 A SPECULATION. that I gave them credit for being aware of the nonsense of what they applauded, from the very fact that they did applaud it. It is easy enough sometiraes to discover " le vrai au travers du ridicule ;" and these silly boys were not, I am persuaded, such utter blockheads as they endeavoured to appear. It is a bad and mischievous tone, however ; and the affecting a vice where you have it not, is quite as detestable a sort of hypocrisy as any other. Sorae thousand years hence perhaps, if any curious collectors of rare copies should contrive among thera to preserve specimens of the French dramas of the present day, it may happen that while the tiraes that are gone shall continue to be classed as the Iron, the Golden, the Dark, and the Augustan ages, this day of ours raay become fa miliar in all men's mouths as the Diabolic age, — unless, indeed, sorae charitable critic shall step forward in our defence, and bestow upon it the gentler appellation of " the Idiot era." 49 LETTER XLVII. Palais Royal. — Variety of Characters. — Party of Eng lish. — Restaurant Galerie d'Orlgans. — Number of Loungers — Convenient abundance of Idle Men. — Theatre du Vaudeville. Though, as a lady, you may fancy yourself quite beyond the possibiUty of ever feeling any interest in the Palais Royal, its restaurans, its trinket-shops, ribbon-shops, toy-shops &;c. &c. &c. and all the world of misery, mischief, and good cheer which rises etage after 6tage above them ; I must never theless indulge in a little gossip respecting it, because few things in Paris — I might, I believe, say nothing — can show an aspect so completely un- English in aU ways as this singular region. The palace itself is stately and imposing, though not externally in the very best taste. Corneille, how ever, says of it, — " L'univers entier ne peut voir rien d'egal Au superbe dehors du Palais Cardinal," as it was called from having been built and in- VOL. II. E 50 PALAIS ROYAL. habited by the Cardinal de Richelieu. But it is the use raade of the space which was originally the Cardinal's garden, which gives the place its present interest. AU the world — raen, woraen and children, gentle and simple, rich and poor, — in short, I sup pose every Uving soul that enters Paris, is taken to look at the Palais Royal. But though many strangers linger there, alas ! aU too long, there are many others who, according to my notions, do not Unger there long enough. The quickest eye can not catch at one glance, though that glance be in activity during a tour made round the whole enclosure, all the national characteristic, pictu resque, and coraic groups which float about there incessantly through at least twenty hours of the twenty-four. I know that the Palais Royal is a study which, in its higher walks and profoundest depths, it would be equally difficult, dangerous, and disagreeable to pursue i but with these alti tudes and profundities I have nothing to do ; there are abundance of objects to be seen there, calculated and intended to meet the eyes of all men, and women too, which may furnish matter for observation, without either diving or clirabing in pursuit of knowledge that, after all, would be better lost than found. But one should have the talent of Hogarth to describe the different groups, with all their varied VARIETY OF CHARACTERS. 51 little episodes of pecuUarity, which render the Palais Royal so arausing. These groups are, to be sure, made up only of Parisians, and of the wanderers who visit la belle ville in order to see and be seen in every part of it ; yet it is in vain that you would seek elsewhere the same odd selection of huraan beings that are to be found sans faute in every corner of the Palais Royal. How it happens I know not, but so it is, that almost every person you meet here furnishes food for speculation. If itbe an elegant well-appointed man of fashion, the fancy instantly tracks him to a salon de jeu ; and if you are very good-natured, your heart will ache to think how much misery he is likely to carry home with him. If it be a low, skulking, semi-genteel moustache, with large, dark, deep-set eyes rolling about to see whom he can devour, you are as certain that he too is making for a salon, as that a man with a rod and line on his shoulder is going to fish. That pretty sou brette, with her neat heels and smart silk apron, who has evidently a few francs tied up in the corner of the handkerchief which she holds in her hand — do we not know that she is peering through the window of every trinket-shop to see where she can descry the most tempting gold ear-rings, for the purchase of which a quarter's wages are about to be dis-kerchiefed ? E 2 52 PARTY OF ENGLISH. We raust not overlook, and indeed it would not be easy to do so, that well-defined domestic party of om- country-folks who have just turned into the superb Galerie d'Orleans. Father, mother, and daughters — how easy to guess their thoughts, and almost their words ! The portly father declares that it would make a capital Exchange : he has not yet seen La Bourse. He looks up to its noble height — then steps forward a pace or two, and measures with his eye the space on all sides — then stops, and perhaps says to the stately lady on his arra, (whose eyes raeanwhile are wandering amidst shawls, gloves, Cologne bottles, and Sevres china, first on one side and then on the other,) — " This is not badly built; it is light and lofty — and the width is very considerable for so slight-looking a roof; but what is it compared to Waterloo-bridge !" Two pretty girls, with bright cheeks, dove-like eyes, and " tresses like the morn," falling in un numbered ringlets, so as almost to hide their cu rious yet timid glances, precede the parent pair ; but, with pretty well-taught caution, pause when they pause, and step on when they step on. But they can hardly look at anything ; for do they not know, though their downcast eyes can hardly be said to see it, that those youths with coal-black hair, favoris and imperials, are spying at them with their lorgnettes ? RESTAURANT. 53 Here too, as at the Tuileries, are Uttle paviUons to supply the insatiable thirst for politics ; and here, too, we could distinguish the melancholy champion of the elder branch of the Bourbons, who is at least sure to find the consolation of his faithful " Quotidienne," and the syrapathy of " La France." The sour repubUcan stalks up, as usual, to seize upon the " Reformateur ;" while the cora fortable doctrinaire comes forth from the Cafe V^ry, ruminating on the " Journal des D6bats," and the chances of his bargains at Tortoni's or La Bourse. It was in a walk taken round three sides of the square that we marked the figures I have men tioned, and many more too numerous to record, on a day that we had fixed upon to gratify our curiosity by dining — not at Vary's, or any other far-famed artist's, but tout bonnement at a restau rant of quarante sous par tete. Having made our tour, we raounted au second at numero — I for get what, but it was where we had been especially recoraraended to make this coup d'essai. The scene we entered upon, as we followed a long string of persons who preceded us, was as amusing as it was new to us all. I will not say that I should like to dine three days in the week at the Palais Royal for quarante sous par t^te ; but I will say, that I should have 54 RESTAURANT. been very sorry not to have done it once, and moreover, that I heartily hope I may do it again. The dinner was extremely good, and as varied as our fancy chose to make it, each person having privilege to select three or four plats, frora a carte that it would take a day to read deliberately. But the dinner was certainly to us the least im portant part of the business. The novelty of the spectacle, the number of strange-looking people, and the perfect amenity and good-breeding which seemed to reign araong thera all, made us look about us with a degree of interest and curiosity that alraost caused the whole party to forget the ostensible cause of their visit. There were many English, chiefly gentleraen, and several Gerraans with their wives and daugh ters ; but the raajority ofthe corapany was French ; and frora sundry little circurastances respecting taking the places reserved for them, and different words of intelUgence between theraselves and the waiters, it was evident that many araong them were not chance visitors, but in the daily habit of dining there. What a singular mode of existence is this, and how utterly inconceivable to English feelings ! . . . . Yet habit, and perhaps prejudice, apart, it is not difficult to perceive that it has its advantages. In the first place, there is no manage raent in the world, not even that of Mrs. Primrose RESTAURANT. 55 herself, which could enable a man to dine at home, for the sum of two francs, with the same degree of luxury as to what he eats, that he does at one of these restaurans. Five hundred persons are calculated upon as the daily average of corapany expected ; and forty pounds of ready raoney in Paris, with the skilful aid of French cooks, will furnish forth a dinner for this nuraber, and leave sorae profit besides. Add to which, the sale of wine is, I believe, considerable. Sorae part of the receipts, however, raust be withdrawn as interest upon the capital employed. The quantity of plate is very abundant, not only in the apparently un liraited supply of forks and spoons, but in furnish ing the raultitude of grim-looking silver bowls in which the pot age is served. On the whole, however, I can better under stand the possibiUty of five hundred dinners be ing furnished daily for two francs each, by one of these innuraerable estabUshments, than I can the marvel of five hundred people being daily found by each of these to eat them. Hundreds of these houses exist in Paris, and all of thera are con stantly furnished with guests. But this manner of living, so unnatural to us, seems not only natu ral, but needful to them. They do it aU so well — so pleasantly ! Imagine for a moment the sort of tone and style such a dining-room would take in London. I do rjot mean, if Umited to the same 56 RESTAURANT. price, but set it greatly beyond the proportion : let us imagine an establishment where males and females should dine at five shillings a-head — what din, what unsocial, yet vehement clattering, would inevitably ensue ! — not to mention the utter im probability that such a place, really and bond fide open to the public, should continue a reputable resort for ladies for a week after its doors were open. But here, everything was as perfectly respectable and well arranged as if each little table had been placed with its separate party in a private room at Miv art's. It is but fair, therefore, that while we hug ourselves, as we are all apt to do, on the refinement which renders the exclusive privacy of our own dining-rooms necessary to our feelings of comfort, we should allow that equal refinement, though of another kind, raust exist araong those who, when thrown thus promiscuously together, still retain and manifest towards each other the same deference and good-breeding which we re quire of those whom we admit to our private circle. At this restaurant, as everywhere else in Paris, we found it easy enough to class our gens. I feel quite sure that we had around us many of the eraployes du gouvernement actuel — several anciens miUtaires of Napoleon's — some speciraens of the RESTAURANT. 57 race distinguished by Louis Dix-huit and Charles Dix — and even, if I do not greatly raistake, a few relics of the Convention, and of the unfortunate monarch who was its victim. But during this hour of rest and enjoyment all differences seem forgotten ; and however discord ant may be theirfeelings, two Frenchmen cannot be seated near each other at table, without exchang ing nuraberless civiUties, and at last entering into conversation, so well sustained and so animated, that instead of taking thera for strangers who had never met before, we, in our stately shyness, would be ready to pronounce that they must be farailiar friends. Whether it be this causant, social temper which raakes them prefer thus living in public, or that thus living in public makes them social, I cannot determine to ray own satisfaction ; but the one is not raore reraarkable and more totally unlike our own manners than the other, and I really think that no one who has not dined thus in Paris can have any idea how very wide, in some directions, the Une of demarcation is between the two coun tries. I have on former occasions dined with a party at places of much higher price, where the object was to observe what a very good dinner a very good cook could produce in Paris. But this ex- 58 RESTAURANT. periraent offered nothing to our observation at all approaching in interest and nationaUty to the dinner of quarante sous. In the first place, you are much raore likely to raeet English than French society at these costly repasts ; and in the second, if you do encounter at thera a genuine native gourraet of la Grande Nation, he will, upon this occasion, be only doing like ourselves, — that is to say, giving hiraself un repas exquis, instead of regaling hiraself at horae with his faraily — " Sur un lievre flanqu6 de deux poulets 6tiques." But at the humble restaurant of two francs, you have again a new page of Paris existence to study, — and one which, while it will probably increase your English relish for, your English home, wiU show you no unprofitable picture of the amiable social qualities of France. I think that if we could find a people coraposed in equal proportions of the two natures, they would be as near to social perfection as it is possible to iraagine. The French are alraost too araiable to every one they chance to sit near. The Uvely smile, the kind empressement, the ready causerie, would be more flattering did we not know that it was all equally at the service of the whole world. Where as we are more than equally wrong in the other extreme ; having the air of suspecting that every human being who happens to be thrown into con- GALERIE D'ORLEANS. 59 tact with us, before we know his birth, parentage, and education, is something very dangerous, and to be guarded against with all possible care and precaution. Query — Do not the Germans furnish soraething very like this juste milieu ? Having concluded our unexpensive repast with the prescribed tasse de caf^ noir, we again sallied forth to take the tour of the Palais Royal, in order to occupy the time till the opening of the The§,tre du Vaudeville, with which, as we were so very close to it, we deterrained to finish the evening. We returned, as we carae, through the noble Galerie d'Orl6ans, which was now crowded with the asserabled loungers of all the nuraerous restau rans. It is a gay and aniraated scene at any tirae of the day ; but at this particular hour, just before the theatres open, and just after the gay people have all refreshed their aniraal spirits, Paris itself seems typified by the aspect of the lively, laughing, idle throng asserabled there. One reason, I believe, why Paris is so rauch more amusing to a looker-on than London, is, that it contains so many more people, in pro portion to its population, who have nothing in the world to do but to divert themselves and others. There are so many more idle men here, who are contented to live on incomes that with us would be considered as hardly sufficient to sup ply a lodging ; sraall rentiers, who prefer being 60 LOUNGERS, masters of their own tirae and arausing thera selves with a little, to working very hard and being very much ennuyes with a great deal of money. I am not quite sure that this plan answers well when youth is past — at least for the individuals themselves : it is probable, I think, that as the strength, and health, and spirits fade away, something of quieter and raore substantial comfort must often be wished for, when perhaps it is too late to obtain it ; but for others — for all those who form the circle round which the idle man of pleasure skims thus Ughtly, he is a never- failing resource. What would become of all the parties for amuseraent which take place morning, noon, and night in Paris, if this race were extinct ? Whether they are raarried or single, they are equally eligible, equally necessary, equally wel come wherever pleasure raakes the business of the hour. With us, it is only a small and highly- privileged class who can perrait theraselves to go wherever and whenever pleasure beckons ; but in France, no lady arranging a f&te, let it be of what kind it may, has need to think twice and thrice before she can answer the important but tor menting question of — " But what raen can we get?" The VaudevUle was very full, but we contrived to get a good box au second, from whence we saw, greatly to our delectation and arauseraent, three THEATRE DU VAUDEVILLE. 6l pretty little pieces, — " Les Gants Jaunes," " Le Premier Amour," and " Elle est Folle ;" which last was of the larmoyante school, and much less to ray taste than the lively nonsense of the two for mer ; yet it was admirably well played too. But I always go to a vaudeville with the inten tion of laughing ; and if this purpose fail, I am disappointed. 62 LETTER XLVIII. Literary Conversation. — Modern Novelists. — Vicomte d'Ar lincourt — His Portrait. — Chateaubriand. — Bernardin de Saint Pierre. — Shakspeare. — Sir Walter Scott. — French familiarity with English Authors. — Miss Mitford. — Miss Landon. — Parisian passion for Novelty. — Extent of gene ral Information. We were last night at a sraall party where there was neither dancing, music, cards, nor — (wonderful to say !) politics to amuse or occupy us : nevertheless, it was one of the most agreeable soirees at which I have been present in Paris. The conversation was completely on literary sub jects, but totally without the pretension of a lite rary society. In fact, it was purely the effect of accident ; and it was just as Ukely that we might have passed the evening in talking of pictures, or music, or rocks and rivers, as of books. But Fate decreed that so it should be ; and the conse quence was, that we had the pleasure of hearing three Frenchmen and two Frenchworaen talk for three hours of the literature of their country. I do not mean to assert that no other person spoke — but the frais de la conversation were cer tainly furnished by the five natives. VICOMTE D'ARLINCOURT, 63 One of the gentleraen, and that too the old est man in company, was more tolerant towards the present race of French novel-writers than any person of his age and class that I have yet conversed with ; but nevertheless, his approval went no farther than to declare that he thought the present mode of following human nature with a microscope into all the recesses to which pas sion, and even vice, could lead it, was calculated to raake a better novelist than the fashion which preceded it, of looking at all things through a raagnifying raediura, and of straining and striv ing, in consequence, to raake that appear great, which was by its nature essentially the reverse. The Vicorate d'Arlincourt was the author he naraed to estabUsh the truth of his proposition : he would not admit him to be an exaggeration of the school which has passed away, but only the per fection of it. " I remember," said he, " to have seen at the Louvre, many years ago, a full-length portrait of this gentleman, which I thought at the time was as perfect a symbol of what is called in France le style romantique, as it was well possible to con ceive. He was standing erect on the rocky point of a precipice, with eye inspired, and tablets in his hand : a foaming torrent rolled its tortured waters at his feet, whUst he, calm and sublime, looked not ' corarae une jeune beaut6 qu'on arrache 64 D'ARLINCOURT. — CHATEAUBRIAND. au soraraeil,' but very like a young incroyable snatched from a fashionable salon to raeditate upon the wild majesty of nature, with all the in spiring adjuncts of tempest, wildness, and soli tude. He appeared dressed in an elegant black coat and waistcoat, black silk stockings, and dan cing pumps. It would be lost labour," he con tinued, " should I attempt to give you a raore just idea of his style of writing than the cora position of this portrait conveys. It is in vain that M. le Vicorate places hiraself araidst rocks and cataracts — he is still M. le Vicomte ; and his silk stockings and dancing pumps will reraain visible, spite of all the froth and foara he labours to raise around hira." " It was not D'Arlincourt, however," said M. de C * * * *, " who has either the honour or disho nour of having invented this st'yle romantique — but a rauch greater raan : it was Chateaubriand who first broke through all that was left of classic restraint, and permitted his iraagination to run wild among everything in heaven and earth." " You cannot, however, accuse him of running this wild race with his imagination en habit bour geois," said the third gentleman : " his style is ex travagant, but never ludicrous; Chateaubriand really has, what D'Arlincourt affected to have, a poetical and abounding fancy, and a fecundity D'ARLINCOURT. — CHATEAUBRIAND. 65 of imagery which has often betrayed him into bad taste from its very richness ; but there is nothing strained, forced, and unnatural in his eloquence, — for eloquence it is, though a soberer iraagination and a severer judgment raight have kept it with in more reasonable bounds. After aU that can be said against his taste, Chateaubriand is a great man, and his name will live among the literati of France ; but God forbid that any true prophet should predict the sarae of his iraitators !" " And God forbid that any true prophet should predict the sarae of the school that has succeed ed thera!" said Madarae V**** — a delightful old woman, who wears her own grey hair, and does not waltz. " I have sometimes laughed and sometiraes yawned over the productions of the 6cole D'Arlincourt," she added ; " but I inva riably turn with disgust and indignation frora those of the doraestic style which has succeeded to it." " Invariably ?" ... said the old gentieraan in terrogatively. " Yes, invariably ; because, if I see any syraptora of talent, I laraent it, and feel alarmed for the possible mischief which may ensue. I can never wish to see high mental power, which is the last and best gift of Heaven, perverted so shame lessly." « Come, corae, dear lady," replied the advocate VOL. II. ^ 66 BERNARDIN DE ST. PIERRE. of what Goethe impressively calls ' la littcrature du desespoir,' you must not overthrow the whole fabric because some portion of it is faulty. The object of our tale-writers at present is, beyond all doubt, to paint men as they are : if they succeed, their labours cannot fail of being interesting — and I should think they raight be very useful too." " Fadaise que tout cela !" exclairaed the old lady eagerly. " Before men can paint huraan nature profitably, they raust see it as it really is, my good friend — and not as it appears to these rai- s6rables in their baraques and greniers. We have nothing to do with such scenes as they paint ; and they have nothing to do (God help thera !) with literary labours. Have you got Bernar din de Saint Pierre, raa chere ?" said she, ad dressing the lady of the house. The little volurae was immediately handed to her from a chiffonnifere that stood behind us. " Now this," she continued, having found the passage she sought, — " this is what I conceive to be the legitimate object of literature ;" and she read aloud the following passage : — " Les lettres sont un secours du Ciel. Ce sont des rayons de cette sagesse qui gouverne l'univers, que I'homrae, inspir^ par un art celeste, a appris a fixer sur la terre . . . EUes calraent les passions ; elles r^priment les vices ; elles excitent les vertus par les exemples augustes des gens de bien qu'elles SHAKSPEARE. 67 celebrent, et dont elles nous pr6sentent les images toujours honordes." "Eh bien! a-t-il raison, ce Bernardin?" said she, laying aside her spectacles and looking round upon us. Every one adraired the passage. " Is this the use your French romancers make of letters ? " she continued, looking triumphantly at their advocate. " Not exactly," he replied, laughing, — " or at least not always : but I could show you passages in Michel Rayraond . . . ." " Bah ! " exclaimed the old lady, interrupting him ; " I wUl have nothing to do with his pas sages. I think it is Chamfort who says, that " un sot qui a un moment d'esprit, 6tonne et scan- daUse comrae des chevaux de fiacre au galop.'' I don't like such unexpected jerks of subliraity — they startle more than they please me." The conversation then rambled on to Shak speare, and to the mischief — such was the word — to the mischief his example, and the passionate adrairation expressed for his writings, had done to the classic purity of French literature. This phrase, however, was not only cavUled at, but in true French style was laughed to death by the rest of the party. The word " classic" was de clared too rococo for use, and Shakspeare loudly proclaimed to be only defective as a raodel be cause too mighty to imitate. F 2 68 SHAKSPEARE. I have, however, sorae faint misgivings as to the perfect sincerity of this verdict, — and this chiefly because there was but one Frenchman present who affected to know anything about him except ing through the raediura of translation. Now, notwithstanding that the talent shown by M. Ducis in the translation of some passages is very considerable, we all know that Shakspeare may be very nearly as fairly judged from the Italian " Otello " as the " French Hamlet." The party were however quite sincere, I am sure, in the feel ing they expressed of reverence for the unequaUed bard, founded upon the rank he held in the esti raation of his countryraen ; this being, as the clear-headed old lady observed, the only sure criterion, for foreigners, of the station which he ought to hold among the poets of the earth. Then followed some keen enough observations - — appUcable to any one but Shakspeare — of the danger there raight be, that in raixing tragedy and coraedy together, farce might unfortunate ly be the result ; or, if the " fusion," as it has been called, of tragedy and coraedy into one were very skilfully perforraed, the sublime and prodigious raonster called raelodrame raight be hoped for, as the happiest product that could be expected. It being thus civilly settled that our Shakspeare raight be as wild as he chose, but that it would be SIR WALTER SCOTT. 69 advisable for other people to take care how they attempted to follow him, the party next fell into a review, raore individual and particular than I was well able to follow, or than I can now repeat, of many writers of verses and of novels that, I was fain to confess, I had never heard of before. One or two of the novel-writers were declared to be very successful imitators of the style and man ner of Sir Walter Scott : and when this was stated, I was, to say the truth, by no means sorry to plead total and entire ignorance of their name and pro ductions ; for, having, as I fear, manifested a little national warmth on the subject of Shakspeare, I should have been sorry to start off in another tirade concerning Sir Walter Scott, which I raight have found it difficult td avoid, had I known ex actly what it was which they ventured to corapare to hira. I do not quite understand how it happens that the Parisians are so much better acquainted with the generality of our light Uterature, than we are with the generality of theirs. This is the more unaccountable, frora the fact so universally known, that for one French person who reads English, there are at least ten English who read French. It is, however, irapossible to deny that such is the fact. I ara sure I have heard the names of two or three dozen authors, since I have been here, of whose existence, or of that of their works, neither 70 FAMILIARITY WITH ENGLISH AUTHORS. I, nor any of my literary friends, I believe, have had the least knowledge ; and yet we have consi dered ourselves quite au courant du jour in such matters, having never missed any opportunity of reading every French book that came in our way, and moreover of sedulously consulting the Foreign Quarterly. In canvassing this difference between us, one of the party suggested that it might per haps arise frora the fact that no work which was popular in England ever escaped being reprinted on the Continent, — that is to say, either at Paris or Brussels. Though this is done solely as a sort of piratical speculation, for the purpose of in ducing all the travelling English to purchase new books for four francs here, instead of giving thirty shillings for thera at home, it is neverthe less a natural consequence of this manoeuvre, that the names of English books are farailiarly known here even before they have been trans lated. Many of our lady authors have the honour ap parently of being almost as well known at Paris as at home. I had the pleasure of hearing Miss Mitford spoken of with enthusiasra ; and one lady told me, that, judging her from her works, she would rather becorae acquainted with her than with any author living. Miss Landon is also well known and much NEW STYLE OF WRITING. 71 adraired. Madarae Tastu told me she had trans lated raany of her compositions, and thought very highly of thera. In short, English literature and English literati are at present very hospit ably treated in France. I was last night asked innuraerable questions about raany books, and raany people, whose re- nommte I was surprised to find had crossed the Channel ; and having coraraunicated pretty nearly all the inforraation I possessed upon the subject, I began to question in ray turn, and heard abund ance of anecdotes and criticisras, raany of them given with all the sparkling keenness of French satire. , Many of les petits ridicules that we are accus toraed to hear quizzed at horae seera to exist in the same manner, and spite of the same light chastisement, here. The manner, for example, of making a very Uttle wit and wisdora go a great way, by raeans of short lines and long stops, does not appear to be in any degree peculiar to our island. As a speclraen of this, a quotation from a new romance by Madame Girardin (ci-devant Mademoiselle Delphine Gay) was shown rae in a newspaper. I will copy it for you as it was printed, and I think you wiU allow that our neighbours at least equal us in this ingenious departraent of Uterary composition. 72 PASSION FOR NOVELTY. " Pensez-vous Qu' Arthur vouliit revoir Mad"* de Soraraery ?" " NoN : Au lieu de I'airaer, // la dStestait .'" " Oui, II la detestait !" I think our passion for novelty is pretty strong ; but if the information which I received last night respecting the same imperious besoin here was not exaggerated by the playful spirit of the party who were amusing themselves by describing its influence, we are patient and tame in our endur ance of old " by-gones," in comparison to the Parisians. They have, indeed, a saying which in few words paints this craving for novelty, as strongly as I could do, did I torment my memory to repeat to you every word said by my lively friends last night : - " II nous faut du nouveau, n'en fut-il plus au monde." It is delightful to us to get hold of a new book or a new song — a new preacher or a new fiddler : it is delightful to us, but to the Parisians it is indispensable. To meet in society and have no thing new for the causette, would be worse than remaining at horae. " This fond desire, this longing after" fresh materials for the tongue to work upon, is at least EXTENT OF INFORMATION. 73 as old as the days of Moliere. It was this which raade Madelon address herself with such energy to MascariUe, assuring hira that she should be " obligde de la dernifere obligation " if he would but report to her daily " les choses qu'il faut savoir de n6cessit6, et qui sont de I'essence d'un bel esprit ;" for, as she truly observes, " C'est la ce qui vous fait valoir dans les compagnies, et si l'on ignore ces choses, je ne donnerais pas un clou de tout I'es- prit qu'on peut avoir ;" — while her cousin Cathos gives her testiraony to the sarae truth by this im pressive declaration : " Pour moi, j'aurais toutes les hontes du monde s'U fallait qu'on vint k me demander si j'aurais vu quelque chose de nouveau que je n'aurais pas vu." I know not how it is that people who appear to pass so few hours of every day out of sight con trive to know so well everything that has been written and everything that has been done in all parts of the world. No one ever appears ignorant on any subject. Is this tact ? Or is it knowledge, — real, genuine, substantial information respecting all things ? I suspect that it is not whoUy either the one or the other ; and that many circumstances contribute both to the general diffusion of infor mation, as well as to the rapid manner of receiv ing and the brUUant style of displaying it. This at least is certain, that whatever they do know is made the very most of; aud though some 74 EXTENT OF INFORMATION. raay suspect that so great display of general in forraation indicates rather extent than depth of knowledge, none, I think, can refuse to acknow ledge that the raanner in which a Frenehraan corara unicates what he has acquired is particularly amiable, graceful, and unpedantic. 75 LETTER XLIX. Trial by Jury. — Power of the Jury in France. — Comparative insignificance of that vested in the Judge Virtual Aboli tion of Capital Punishments. — 'Flemish Anecdote. Do not be terrified, ray dear friend, and fancy that I ara going to exchange ray idle, arabUng pace, and ray babil de femme, to join the march of intel lect, and indite wisdom. I have no such ambition in my thoughts ; and yet I must retail to you part of a conversation with which I have just been favoured by an extreraely intelligent friend, on the very manly subject of ... . Not political eco nomy ; — be tranquil on that point ; the same drowsy dread falls upon rae when those two portentous words sound in my ears with which they seem to have inspired Coleridge; — ^not political econoray, but trial by jury. M. V***, the gentieraan in question, gave me credit, I believe, for considerably more savoir than I really possess, as to the actual and precise man ner in which this important constitutional right works in England. My ignorance, however, though it prevented my giving rauch inforraation. 76 PUNISHMENT OF DEATH. did not prevent my receiving it ; and I repeat our conversation for the purpose of telling you in what a very singular manner, according to his account, it appears to work in France. I raust, however, premise that my friend is a stanch Henri-Quintist ; which, though I am sure that in his case it would not produce any exagger ation in the statement of facts, may nevertheless be fairly presumed to influence his feelings, and consequently his manner of stating thera. The circumstance which gave rise to this grave discussion was a recent judgraent passed here upon a very atrocious case of murder. I ara not particularly fond of hanging ; nevertheless, I was startled at hearing that this savage and most fero cious slayer of men was condemned to iraprison ment and travail forc^ instead of death. " It is very rarely that any one now suffers the extreme penalty of the law in this country," said M. V***, in reply to my reraark on this sentence. " Is it since your last revolution," said I, " that the punishraent of death has been commuted for that of iraprisonraent and labour ?" " No such corarautation has taken place as an act of the legislature," he replied : " it rests solely with the jury whether a murderer be guil lotined, or only imprisoned. I fancied that I misunderstood him, and re peated his words, — " With the jury ?" " Oui, madarae — absoluraent." TRIAL BY JURY. 77 This stateraent appeared to me so singular, that I still supposed I must be blundering, and that the words lejury in France did not mean the same thing as the word jury in England. In this, as it subsequently appeared, I was not much mistaken. Notwithstanding, my informer, who was not only a very intelUgent person, but a lawyer to boot, continued to assure rae that trial by jury was exactly the sarae in both countries as to principle, though not as to effect. " But," said I, " our juries have nothing to do with the sentence passed on the criminal : their business is to examine into the evidence brought forward by the witnesses to prove the guilt of the prisoner, and according to the impression which this leaves on their rainds, they pronounce hira ' guUty,' or ' not guUty ;' and here their duty ends." " Yes, yes — I understand that perfectly," replied M. V*** ; " and it is precisely the same thing with us ; — only, it is not in the nature of a Frenchman to pronounce a raere dry, short, unspeculating ver dict of ' guUty,' or * not guilty,' without exercising the powers of his intellect upon the shades of cul- pabiUty which attach to the acts of each delin quent." This impossibility of giving a verdict without exercising the power of intellect rerainded rae of an assize story on record in Cornwall, respecting 78 ASSIZE ANECDOTE. the sentence pronounced by a jury upon a case in which it was very satisfactorily proved that a man had murdered his wife, but where it also appeared from the evidence that the unhappy woman had not conducted herself remarkably well. The jury retired to consult, and upon re-entering their box the foreman addressed the court in these words : " Guilty — but sarved her right, my lord." It was in vain that the learned judge desired them to amend their verdict, as containing matter wholly irrelevant to the duty they had to per forra; the inteUect of the juryraen was, upon this occasion, in a state of too great activity to perrait their returning any other answer than the iden tical " Guilty — but sarved her right." I could hardly restrain a sraUe as this anecdote recurred to me ; but ray friend was too rauch in earnest in his explanation for rae to interrupt him by an ill- tiraed jest, and he continued — " This frarae of mind, which is certainly essen tiaUy French, is one cause, and perhaps the raost inveterate one, which makes it impossible that the trial by jury should ever become the same safe and siraple process with us that it is in England." " And in what raanner does this activity of inteUect interfere to impede the course ofjustice?" said I. " Thus," he replied. " Let us suppose the facts of the case proved to the entire satisfaction POWER OF JURIES IN FRANCE. 79 of the jury: they raake up their minds among themselves to pronounce a verdict of ' guilty;' but their business is by no means finished, — they have stiU to decide how this verdict shall be de livered to the judge — whether with or without the declaration that there are circumstances cal culated to extenuate the crirae." " Oh yes 1 I understand you now," I replied- " You raean, that when there are extenuating circumstances, the jury assume the privilege of recommending the criminal to mercy. Our juries do this likewise." "But not with the sarae authority," said he, srailing. " With us, the fate of the culprit is wholly in the power of the jury ; for not only do they decide upon the question of guilty or not guilty, but, by the use of this word extenuating, they can remit by their sole wUl and pleasure the capital part of the punishment, let the crime be of what nature it may. No judge in this coun try dare sentence a criminal to capital punish ment where the verdict against hira has been qua lified by this extenuating clause." " It should seem then," said I, " that the duty of judge, which is attended with such awful re sponsibilities with us, is here Uttle more than the perforraance of an official cereraony ?" " It is very nearly such, I assure you." " And your juryraen, according to a phrase of 80 UNIMPORTANCE OF FRENCH JUDGES. contempt common among us, are in fact judge and jury both ?" " Beyond all contradiction they are so," he re plied : " and I conceive that criminal justice is at this time more loosely administered in France than in any other civilised country in the world. In fact, our artisans have become, since the revo lution of 1830, not only judge and jury, but le gislators also. Different crimes have different punishments assigned to thera by our penal code ; but it rarely, or I might say never, occurs in our days that the punishment inflicted has any re ference to that which is assigned by the law. That guUt raay vary even when the deed done does not, is certain ; and it is just and righteous there fore that a judge, learned in the law of the land, and chosen by high authority from araong his fel lows as a raan of wisdom and integrity, — it is quite just and righteous that such a one should have the power — and a tremendous power it is — ' of modifying the extent of the penalty according to his view of the individual case. The charge too of an English judge is considered to be of immense importance to the result of every trial. All this is as it should be ; but we have departed most widely from the raodel we have professed to follow. With us the judge has no such power — at least not practically : with us a set of chance- raet artisans, ignorant alike of the law of the land ABOLITION OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT, 81 and of the philosophy of punishment, have this tremendous power vested in them. It matters not how clearly the crime has been proved, and still less what penalty the law has adjudged to it ; the punishment inflicted is whatever it raay please the jury to decide, and none other." " And what is the effect which this strangely assumed power has produced on your administra tion of justice?" said I, " The virtual abolition of capital punishraent," was the reply. " When a jury," continued M. V* * *, " delivers a verdict to the judge of ' Guilty, but with extenuating circurastances,' the judge dare not conderan the criminal to death, though the law of the land assign that punishment to his offence, and though his own raind is convinced, by aU which has come out upon the trial, that instead of extenuating circumstances, the cora mission of the crirae has been attended with every possible aggravation of atrocity. Such is the prac tical effect of the revolution of 1830 on the ad ministration of crirainal justice." " Does public opinion sanction this strange abuse ofthe functions of juryraen?" said I. " Public opinion cannot sanction it," he replied, " any more than it could sanction the committal of the crime itself. The one act is, in fact, as lawless as the other ; but the populace have con ceived the idea that capital punishraent is an un- VOL. II. G 82 ABOLITION OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. due exercise of power, and therefore our rulers fear to exercise it." This is a strange statement, is it not ? The gen tleman who raade it is, I ara sure, too rauch a raan of honour and integrity to falsify facts ; but it raay perhaps be necessary to allow soraething for the colouring of party feeling. Whatever the present governraent does, or permits to be done, contrary to the system estabUshed during the period of the restoration, is naturaUy offensive to the feeUngs of the legitimatists, and repugnant to their judg ments ; yet, in this case, the relaxation of neces sary power must so inevitably lead to evil, that we must, I think, expect to see the reins gathered up, and the command resuraed by the proper functionaries, as soon as the new government feels itself seated with sufficient firmness to permit the needful exertion of strength to be put forth with safety. It is certain that M. V* * * supported his state raent by reciting so raany strong cases in which the most fearful crimes, substantiated by the raost unbroken chain of evidence, have been reported by the jury to the judge as having " extenuating circumstances" attached to them, that it is ira possible, while things reraain as they are, not to feel that such a mode of administering justice must raake the habit of perjury as farailiar to their juryraen as that of taking their oaths. FLEMISH ANECDOTE. 83 This conversation brought to my recoUection some strange stories which I had heard in Bel gium apropos of the trial by jury there. If those stories were correct, they are about as far frora coraprehending, or at least from acting upon, our noble, equitable, and well-tried institution there, as they appear to be here — but from causes ap parently exactly the reverse. There, I ara told, it often happens that the jury can neither read nor write ; and that when they are placed in their box, they are, as raight be expected, quite igno rant of the nature of the duty they are to perforra, and often so greatly erabarrassed by it, that they are ready and willing — nay, thankful — to pro nounce as their verdict whatever is dictated to them. I heard an anecdote of one raan — and a thorough honest Fleming he was — who having been duly empanneUed, entered the jury-box, and having listened attentively to a trial that was before the court, declared, when called upon for his verdict, that he had not understood a single word from the beginning to the end of it. The court en deavoured to explain the leading points of the question ; but stiU the worthy burgher persisted in declaring that the business was not in his line, and that he could not coraprehend it suf- ciently to give any opinion at all. The atterapt at explanation was repeated, but in vain ; and G 2 84 MARCH OF INTELLECT. at length the conscientious Fleming paid the fine demanded for the non-performance of the duty, and was permitted to retire. In France, on the contrary, it appears that hu man intellect has gone on so fast and so far, that no dozen of men can be found siraple -minded enough to say ' yes' or ' no' to a question asked, without insisting that they must legislate upon it. In this case, at least, England shows a beautiful speclraen of the juste milieu. 85 LETTER L. English Pastry-cook's. — French horror of English Pastry. — Unfortunate experiment upon a Muffin. — The Citizen King. We have been on a regular shopping tour this raorning ; which was finished by our going into an English pastry-cook's to eat buns. While thus engaged, we amused ourselves by watching the proceedings of a French party who entered also for the purpose of making a raorning gouter upon cakes. They had all of them more or less the air of having fallen upon a terra incognita, showing raany indications of surprise at sight of the ultra- raarine corapositions which appeared before them ; ¦ — but there was a young man of the party who, it was evident, had raade up his mind to quiz without measure all the foreign dainties that the shop afforded, evidently considering their intro duction as a very unjustifiable interference with the native manufacture. " Est-il possible !" said he, with an air of grave 86 HORROR OF ENGLISH PASTRY. and alraost indignant astonishraent, as he watch ed a lady of his party preparing to eat an Eng Ush bun, — " Est-il possible that you can pre fer these strange-looking coraestibles a la patisserie fran9aise?" " Mais goutez-en," said the lady, presenting a speclraen of the same kind as that she was her self eating : " iis sont excellens." " No, no ! it is enough to look at thera !" said her cavalier, alraost shuddering. " There is no lightness, no elegance, no grace in any single gateau here." " Mais goutez quelque chose," reiterated the lady. " Vous le voulez absoluraent !" exclairaed the young man ; " queUe tyrannic ! , . . and what a proof of obedience I ara about to give you ! . . . . Voyons done !" he continued, approaching a plate on which were piled sorae truly English muffins — which, as you know, are of a somewhat myste rious manufacture, and about as palatable if eaten untoasted as a slice from a leathern glove. To this gdteau, as he supposed it to be, the unfortu nate connoisseur in patisserie approached, ex claiming with rather a theatrical air, " Voil^ done ce que je vais faire pour vos beaux yeux !" As he spoke, he took up one of the pale, tough things, and, to our extreme amuseraent, atterapt ed to eat it. Any one raight be excused for THE CITIZEN KING. 87 making a few grimaces on such an occasion, — and a Frenchman's privilege in this line is well known : but this hardy experimentalist outdid this pri vilege ; — he was in a perfect agony, and his spit tings and reproachings were so vehement, that friends, strangers, boutiquier, and all, even down to a Uttle befloured urchin who entered at the moment with a tray of patties, burst into uncon trollable laughter, which the unfortunate, to do him justice, bore with extreme good huraour, only making his fair countrywoman promise that she would never insist upon his eating English con fectionary again. Had this scene continued a minute longer, I should have missed seeing what I should have been sorry not to have seen, for I certainly could not have left the pastry-cook's shop while the young Frenchman's sufferings lasted. Happily, however, we reached the Boulevard des Italiens in time to see King Louis-PhiUppe, en simple bour geois, passing on foot just before Les Bains Chi nois, but on the opposite side of the way. Excepting a small tri-coloured cockade in his hat, he had nothing whatever in his dress to dis tinguish hira from any other gentieraan. He is a well-looking, portly, raiddle-aged man, with something of dignity in his step which, notwith- ' standing the unpretending citizen-Uke style of his promenade, would have drawn attention, and be- 88 THE CITIZEN KING. trayed hira as soraebody out of the common way, even without the plain-speaking cocarde tricolore. There were two gentlemen a few paces behind him, as he passed us, who, I think, stepped up nearer to hira afterwards ; but there were no other individuals near who could have been in attendance upon hira. I observed that he was recognised by raany, and sorae few hats were taken off, particularly by two or three EngUsh men who met him ; but his appearance excited little emotion. I was amused, however, at the nonchalant air with which a young man at some distance, in full Robespierrian costurae, used his lorgnon to peruse the person of the raonarch as long as he reraained in sight. The last king I saw in the streets of Paris was Charles the Tenth returning from a visit to one of his suburban palaces, escorted and accompanied in kingly state and style. The contrast in the men and in the mode was striking, and calculated to awaken lively recollections of all the events which had occurred to both of them since the last time that I turned my head to look after a sovereign of France. My fancy flew to Prague, and to the three generations of French monarchs stationed there almost as peaceably as if they had taken up their quarters at St. Denis I How Uke a series of conjurer's tricks is their IhHwzL&Etcbied iTy A Jlervioii 1, K m.O J € J T O T E N . London. Published by KicbfLrd Benlley 1836. CHARLES THE TENTH. 89 history ! Think of this Charles the Tenth in the flower of his youth and comeliness — the gallant, gay, and dissolute Comte d'Artois; recaU the noble range of windows belonging to his apart ments at Versailles, and imagine him there ra diant in youth and joy — the thoughtless, thriftless cadet of his royal race — the brother and the guest of the good king who appeared to reign over a willing people, by every human right, as well as right divine ! Louis Seize was king of France ; but the gay Comte d'Artois reigned sovereign of all the pleasures of Versailles. What joyous f^tes! . . . what brilliant jubilees ! . . . Meanwhile " Malignant Fate sat by and smiled." Had he then been told that he should live to be crowned king of France, and live thus many years afterwards, would he not have thought that a most brilliant destiny was predicted to hira ? Few raen, perhaps, have suffered so rauch frora the ceaseless changes of human events as Charles the Tenth of France. First, in the person of his eldest brother, dethroned and foully raurdered ; then in his own exUe, and that of another royal brother; and again, when Fortune seeraed to smile upon his race, and the crown of France was not only placed upon that brother's head, but appeared fixed in assured succession on his own princely sons, one of those sons was murdered: 90 REFLECTIONS. and lastly, having reached the throne himself, and seen this lost son reviving in his hopeful offspring, comes another stroke of Fate, unexpected, unpre pared for, overwhelraing, which hurls hira frora his throne, and drives hira and his royal race once more to exile and to civil death Has he seen the last of the poUtical earthquakes which have so shaken his existence ? or has his restless star to rise again ? Those who wish most kindly to hira cannot wish for this. But when I turned ray thoughts from the de throned and banished king to him who stepped on in unguarded but fearless security before rae, and thought too on the vagaries of his destiny, I really felt as if this earth and all the- people on it were little better than so many children's toys, changing their style and title to serve the sport of an hour. It seeraed to rae at that moraent as if all men were classed in their due order only to be thrown into greater confusion — knocked down but to be set up again, and so eternally dashed from side to side, so powerless in themselves, so wholly go verned by accidents, that I shrunk, humbled, from the contemplation of human helplessness, and turned from gazing on a monarch to meditate on the insignificance of raan. How vain are all the efforts he can make to shape the course of his REFLECTIONS. 91 own existence ! There is, in truth, nothing but trusting to surer wisdora, and to surer power, which can enable any of us, from the highest to the lowest, to pass on with tranquil nerves through a world subject to such terrible convul sions. 92 LETTER LI. Parisian Women — Rousseati's failure in attempting to de scribe them — Their great influence in Society — Their grace in Conversation — Difficulty of growing old. — Do the ladies of France or those of England manage it best? There is perhaps no subject connected with Paris which might give occasion to such curious and inexhaustible observation as the character, po sition, and influence of its women. But the theme, though copious and full of interest, is not without its difficulties ; and it is no small proof of this, that Rousseau, who rarely touched on any subject with out persuading his reader that he was fully raaster of it, has nevertheless almost wholly failed on this. In one of the letters of " La NouveUe Heloise," he sketches the characters of a few very common place ladies, whom he abuses unmercifully for their bad taste in dress, and concludes his abor tive atterapt at making us acquainted with the ladies of Paris by acknowledging that they have some goodness of heart. This is but a meagre description of this power ful portion of the human race, and I can hardly PARISIAN WOMEN. 93 iraagine a volurae that I should read with greater pleasure than one which should fully supply all its deficiencies. Do not iraagine, however, that I raean to undertake the task. I ara even less capable of it than the sublime misanthrope hiraself; for though I ara of opinion that it should be an unimpassioned spectator, and not a lover, who should attempt to paint all the delicate little atoms of exquisite raosaic-work which constitute une Parisienne, I think it should not be a woman. All I can do for you on this subject is to recount the observations I have been myself led to raake in the passing glances I have now the opportunity of giving thera, supported by what I have chanced to hear frora better authority than my own : but I ara aware that I can do Uttle more than excite your wish to become better acquainted with thera than it is in ray power to raake you. It is irapossible to be admitted into French society without immediately perceiving that the women play a very distinguished part in it. So, assuredly, do the women of England in their own : yet I cannot but think that, setting aside all cases of individual exception, the women of France have more power and raore important influence than the women of England. I am aware that this is a very bold proposi- 94 PARISIAN WOMEN. tion, and that you raay feel inclined to call me to account for it. But be I right or wrong in this judgraent, it is at least sincere, and herein Ues its chief value ; for I ara by no means sure that I shall be able to explain very satisfactorily the grounds on which it is forraed. France has been called " the paradise of wo raen ;" and if consideration and deference be suffi cient to constitute a paradise, I think it may be called so justly. I will not, however, allow that Frenchmen make better husbands than English raen ; but I suspect they make politer husbands — " Je ne sais pas, pour moi, si chacun me ressemble, Mais j'entends U-dessous un million de mots :" and, all pleasantry apart, I am of opinion that this more observant tone or style, or whatever it may be terraed, is very far frora superficial — at least in its effects. I should be greatly sur prised to hear from good authority that a French gentleman had ever been heard to speak rudely to his wife. Rousseau says, when he raeans to be what he hiraself caUs " souverainement impertinent" that "il est convenu qu'un horarae ne refusera rien k aucune femme, fut-ce m^rae la sienne." But it is not only in refusing her nothing that a French husband shows the superiority which I at tribute to hira ; I know raany English husbands who are equally indulgent ; but, if I raistake PARISIAN WOMEN. 95 not, the general consideration enjoyed by French women has its origiu not in the conjugal indul gence they enjoy, but in the domestic respect universaUy shown them. What foundation there raay be for the idea which prevails amongst us, that there is less strictness of raorality araong married woraen in France than in England, I will not atterapt to decide; but, judging frora the testiraonies of respect shown them by fa thers, husbands, brothers, and sons, I cannot but believe that, spite of travellers' tales, innuendoes, and all the authority of les contes mor aux to boot, there must be much of genuine virtue where there is so rauch genuine esteera. In a recent work on France, to which I have before alluded, a coraparison is instituted between the conversational powers of the sex in England and in France ; and such a picture is drawn of the frivolous inanity of the author's fair country women, as, were the work considered as one of much authority in France, raust leave the ira pression with our neighbours that the ladies of England are tant soit peu Agnhs. Now this judgment is, I think, as little found ed in truth as that of the traveller who accused us all of being brandy-drinkers. It is indeed irapossible to say what effect might have been produced upon the ladies from whom this de scription was drawn, by the awful consciousness 96 PARISIAN WOMEN. that they were conversing with a person of over whelming abiUty. There is such a thing as being " blasted by excess of Ught ;" but where this unpleasant accident does not occur, I believe that those who converse with educated English women will find thera capable of being as intel lectual companions as any in the world. Our countrywomen however, particularly the younger part of them, labour under a great dis advantage. The majority of them I believe to be as well, or perhaps better informed than the majority of Frenchwomen ; but, unfortunately, it frequently happens that they are terrified at the idea of appearing too much so : the terror of being called learned is in general much more powerful than that of being classed as ignorant. Happily for France, there is no blue badge, no stigma of any kind attached to the feraale pos sessors of talent and inforraation. Every French woman brings forward with equal readiness and grace all she knows, all she thinks, and all she feels on every subject that raay be started ; whereas with us, the dread of iraputed blueism weighs down raany a bright spirit, and sallies of wit and fancy are withheld from the fear of betraying either the reading or the genius with which many a fair girl is endued who would rather be thought an idiot than a Blue. This is, however, a very idle fear; and that CONVERSATIONAL POWERS. 97 it is so, a slight glance upon society would show, if prejudice did not interfere to bUnd us. It is possible that here and there a sneer or a shrug may follow this opprobrious epithet of " blue ;" but as the sneer and the shrug always corae frora those whose suffrage is of the least import ance in society, their coming at all can hardly be a sufficient reason for putting on a masquerade habit of ignorance and frivoUty. It is from this cause, if I mistake not, that the conversation of the Parisian women takes a higher tone than that to which English females venture to soar. Even politics, that fearful quicksand which engulfs so raany of our social hours, dividing our drawing-rooms into a com raittee of raen and a coterie of women, — even poUtics raay be handled by thera without dan ger ; for they fearlessly mix with that untoward subject so rauch lively persiflage, so much acute ness, and such unerring tact, that many a knotty point which raay have raade puzzled legislators yawn in the Charaber, has been played with in the salon tUl it becarae as intelligible as the light of wit could raake it. No one who is farailiar with that deUghtful portion of French Uterature contained in their letters and raeraoirs, which paint the raanners and the rainds of those they treat of with more truth of graphic effect than any other biography VOL. II. H 98 CHANGE IN FRENCHMEN'S CHARACTER. in the world, — no one acquainted with the aspect of society as it is painted there, but raust be aware that the character of Frenchraen has un dergone a great and iraportant change during the last century. It has becorae perhaps less bril liant, but at the sarae time less frivolous ; and if we are obUged to confess that no star remains above the horizon of the sarae magnitude as those which composed the constellation that blazed during the age of Louis Quatorze and his suc cessor, we raust allow also that it would be difficult to find a minister of state who should now write to his friend as the Cardinal de Retz did to Boisrobert, — " Je me sauve a la nage dans ma eharabre, au miUeu des parfums." If, however, these sarae minute records can be wholly trusted, I should say that no proportionate change has taken place among the women. I often fancy I can trace the same "genre d'esprit" amongst them with which Madame du Deffand has raade us so well acquainted. Fashions must change — and their fashions have changed, not merely in dress perhaps, but in some things which appear to go deeper into character, or at least into raanners ; but the essentials are all the same. A petite maitresse is a petite maitresse still ; and female wit — ^female French wit — continues to be the same dazzling, playful, and powerful thing SLIGHT CHANGE IN LADIES' CHARACTER. 99 that it ever was. I really do not believe that if Madame de Sevign^ herself were permitted to revisit the scene of her earthly brightness, and to find herself in the midst of a Paris soir6e to-raor row, that she would find any difficulty in joining the conversation of those she would find there, in the same tone and style that she enjoyed so keenly in days of yore with Madame de la Fay ette, Mademoiselle Scuderie, or any other sister sparkler of that glorious via lactea — provided in deed that she did not talk politics, — on that sub ject she raight not perhaps be weU understood. Ladies still write roraances, and still write verses. They write raemoirs too, and are raore over quite as keen critics as ever they were ; and if they had not left off giving petits soupers, where they dooraed the poets of the day to oblivion or iraraoptality according to their wiU, I should say, that in no good gifts either of nature br of art had they degenerated frora their admired great- grandmothers. It can hardly, I think, be accounted a change in their character, that where they used to con verse respecting a new comedy of Molifere, they now discuss the project of a new law about to be passed in the Chamber. The reason for this is obvious : there is no longer a Moliere, but there is a Charaber ; there are no longer any new co- h 2 100 POSITIF AND ID^AL. medies greatly worth talking about, but there are abundance of new laws instead. In short, though the subjects are changed, they are canvassed in the same spirit ; and however much the marquis may be merged in the doc trinaire, the ladies at least have not left off being light, bright, witty, and gay, in order to become advocates for the " positif," in opposition to the "iddal." They stiU keep faithful to their vocation of charming ; and I trust they raay con trive so far to combat this growing passion for the "positif" in their countrymen, as to prevent their turning every salon — as they have already turned the Boulevards before Tortoni's — into a little Bourse. I was so much struck by the truth and elegance of " a thought " apropos to this subject, which I found the other day in turning over the leaves of a French lady's album, that I transcribed it: — " Proscrire les arts agr6ables, et ne vouloir que ceux qui sont absoluraent utiles, c'est blamer la Nature, qui produit les fleurs, les roses, les jasmins, comme eUe produit des fruits." This sentiment, however, simple and natural as it is, appears in sorae danger of being lost sight of while the raind is kept upon such a forced march as it is at present: but the unnatural oblivion cannot fall upon France while her wo raen remain what they are. The graces of life APPRECIATION OF FEMALE GENIUS. 101 will never be sacrificed by them to the pretended pursuit of science ; nor will a purblind exami nation of poUtical economy be ever accepted in Paris as a beautiful specimen of Ught reading, and a first-rate effort of female genius. Yet nowhere are the higher efforts of the fe male raind raore honoured than in France. The raeraory of Madarae de Stael seeras enshrined in every woman's heart, and the glory she has brought to her country appears to shed its beams upon every feraale in it. I have heard, too, the name of Mrs. Somerville pronounced with admiration and reverence by many who confessed theraselves unable to appreciate, or at least to follow, the efforts of her extraordinary raind. In speaking of the woraen of Paris, however, I must not confine myself to the higher classes only ; for, as we all know but too well, " les dames de la Halle," or, as they are more farailiarly styled, " les poissardes," have made themselves important personages in the history of Paris. It is not, however, to the hideous part which they took in the revolution of Ninety-three that I would allude ; the doing so would be equally disagreeable and unnecessary, for the deeds of Alexander are hardly better known than their infernal acts ; — itis rather to the singular sort of respect paid to them in less stormy times that I would call your attention, be cause we have nothing analogous to it with us. 102 DAMES DE LA HALLE. Upon all great public occasions, such as the acces sion of a king, his restoration, or the Uke, these women are perraitted to approach the throne by a deputation, and kings and queens have accepted their bouquets and listened to their harangues. The newspapers in recording these cereraonious visitings never narae these poissardes by any lesser title than " les dames dela Halle;" a phrase which could only be rendered into English by " the ladies of Billingsgate." These ladies have, too, a literature of their own, and have found troubadours among the beaux- esprits of France to chronicle their bons-mots and give immortality to their adventures in that sin gular species of composition known by the name of " Chansons Grivoises." When Napoleon returned from Elba, they paid their compliments to him at the Tuileries, and sang " La Carmagnole " in chorus. One hundred days after, they repeated the ceremony of a visit to the palace ; but this time the compliment was addressed to Louis Dix-huit, and the refrain of the song with which they favoured him was the famous calembourg so much in fashion at the time — " Rendez-nous notre pere de Gand." Not only do these " dames " put theraselves forward upon all political occasions, but, if report say true, they have, parfois, spite of their revo- FILIAL AFFECTION. 103 lutionary ferocity, taken upon theraselves to act as conservators of public morals. When Madame la Comtesse de N * * * * * and her friend Madame T * * * * * appeared in the garden ofthe Tuileries with less drapery than they thought decency de manded, les dames de la Halle armed themselves with whips, and repairing in a body to the pro menade, actually flogged the audacious beauties till they reached the shelter of their horaes. The influence and authority of these women among the men of their own rank is said to be very great ; and that through all the connexions of life, as long as his mother lives, whatever be her rank, a Frenchman repays her early care by af fection, deference, and even by obedience. " Con solez ma pauvre mere !" has been reported in a thousand instances to have been the last words of French soldiers on the field of battle; and whenever an aged female is found seated in the chimney-corner, it is to her footstool that all coaxing petitions, whether for great or small .matters, are always carried. I heard it gravely disputed the other day, whe ther the old ladies of England or the old ladies of France have the raost bonheur en partage araongst them. Every one seeraed to agree that it was a very diflacult thing for a pretty woraan to grow old in any country — that it was terrible to " devenir cheniUe aprfes avoir 6te papUlon ;" 104 HOW TO AVOID GETTING OLD. and that the only effectual way of avoiding this shocking transition was, while still a few years on the handsome side of forty, to abandon in good earnest all pretensions to beauty, and claiming fame and name by the perennial charra of wit alone, to bid defiance to tirae and wrinkles. This is certainly the best parachute to which a drooping beauty can trust herself on either side of the Channel : but for one who can avail herself of it, there are a thousand who raust subrait to sink into eternal oblivion without it; and the question stUl remains, which nation best under stands the art of submitting to this downfall gracefully. There are but two ways of rationally setting about it. The one is, to jump over the Rubicon at once at sight of the first grey hair, and so esta blish yourself betimes on a sofa, with all the com forts of footstool and elbow-room ; the other is, to make a desperate resolution never to grow old at all. Nous autres Anglaises generally understand how to do the first with a respectable degree of resignation ; and the French, by means of sorae invaluable secret which they wisely keep to them selves, are enabled to approach very nearly to equal success in the other. 105 LETTER LII. La Sainte Chapelle. — Palais de Justice. — Traces of the Re volution of 1830. — Unworthy use made of La Sainte Chapelle — Boileau. — Ancient Records. A WEEK or two ago we made a vain and un profitable expedition into the City for the purpose of seeing " La Sainte Chapelle ;" sainte to all good Catholics frora its having been built by Louis Neuf (St. Louis) expressly for the purpose of receiving all the ultra -extra-super -holy relics purchased by St. Louis from Baldwin Emperor of Constantinople, and almost equally sainte to us heretics from having been the scene of Boileau 's poem. Great was our disappointraent at being assured, by several flitting officials to whora we addressed ourselves in and about Le Palais de Justice, that admission was not to be obtained — that workraen were eraployed upon it, and I know not what be sides ; all, however, tending to prove that a long, lingering look at its beautiful exterior was aU we had to hope for. In proportion to this disappointraent was the 106 AN ACCOMPLISHED GUIDE. pleasure with which I received an offer from a new acquaintance to conduct us over the Palais de Justice, and into the sacred precints of La Sainte Chapelle, which in fact makes a part of it. My accidental introduction to M. J * * * * *, who has not only shown us this, but many other things which we should probably never have seen but for his kindness, has been one of the most agree able circumstances which have occurred to me in Paris. I have seldom met a man so " rempli de toutes sortes d'intelligences" as is this new Pari sian acquaintance ; and certainly never received from any stranger so rauch araiable attention, shown in so profitable a raanner. I really beUeve he has a passe-partout for everything that is raost interesting and least easy of access in Paris ; and as he holds a high judicial situation, the Palais de Justice was of course open to hira even to its re raotest recesses : and of all the sight-seeing raorn ings I remember to have passed, the one which showed me this interesting edifice, with the com mentary of our deeply-informed and raost agree able companion, was decidedly one of the most pleasant. There is but one drawback to the pleasure of having met such a raan — and this is the fear that in losing sight of Paris we raay lose sight of him also. The Palais de Justice is from its extent alone a very noble building ; but its high antiquity, and PALAIS DE JUSTICE. 107 its connexion with so raany points and periods of history, render it one of the raost interesting buildings iraaginable. We entered all the courts, some of which appeared to be in full activity. They are in general large and handsome. The portrait of Napoleon was replaced in one of them during the Three Days, and there it still remains : the old chancellor d'Auguesseau hangs opposite to him, being one of the few pictures permitted to retain their places. The vacant spaces, and in sorae instances the traces of violence with which others have been reraoved,, indicate plainly enough that this venerable edifice was not held very sacred by the patriots of 1830. The capricious fury of the sovereign people during this reign of confusion, if not of terror, has left vestiges in almost every part of the building. The very interesting bas relief which I reraember on the pedestal of the fine statue of Malesherbes, the intrepid defender of Louis Seize, has been torn away ; and the brute masonry which it has left displayed, is as striking and appropriate a raemento of the spoilers, as the graphic group they displaced was of the scene it represented, ¦[yj J * * * * * told me the sculpture was not destroyed, and would probably be replaced. I heartily hope, for the honour of Frenchraen, that this may happen : but if it should not, I trust that, for the sake of historic effect, the statue and 108 PALAIS DE JUSTICE. its mutilated pedestal will remain as they are — > both the one and the other mark an epoch in the history of France. But it was in the obscurer parts of the building that I found the most interest. In order to take a short cut to some point to w^hich our kind guide wished to lead us, we were twisted through one of the old — the very old towers of this venerable structure. It had been, I think they said, the kitchen of St. Louis hiraself; and the walls, as seen by the enorraous thickness pierced for the windows, are substantial enough to endure another six hundred years at least. In one of the numerous rooms which we enter ed, we saw an extremely curious old picture, seized in the time of Louis Quinze from the. Jesuits, as containing proof of their treasonable disrespect for kings : and certainly there is not wanting evidence of the fact ; very speaking portraits of Henry the Third and Henry the Fourth are to be found most unequivocally on their way to the infernal regions. The whole performance is one of the most interesting speciraens of Jesuitical in genuity extant. Having fully indulged our curiosity in the palace, we proceeded to the chapel. It is exqui sitely beautiful, and so perfect in its delicate pro portions, that the eye is satisfied, and dwells with full contentraent on the whole for raany rainutes LA SAINTE CHAPELLE. — RECORDS. 109 before the judgraent is at leisure to examine and criticise the different parts of it. But even when this first effect is over, the perfect elegance of this diminutive structure stiU rests upon the raind, producing a degree of admiration which seeras disproportioned to its tiny dimensions. It was built for a shrine in which to preserve relics ; and Pierre de Montreuil, its able archi tect, appears to have sought rather to render it worthy by its richness and its grace to become the casket for those holy treasures, than to give it the dignity of a church. That beautiful minia ture cathedral, St. George's Chapel at Windsor, is an enormous edifice corapared to this ; but less light, less lofty in its proportions — in short, less enchanting in its general effect, than the lovely bijou of St. Louis. Of all the cruel profanations I have ever witness ed, that of turning this exquisite chef-d'oeuvre into a chest for old records is the raost unpardonable : as if Paris could not furnish four walls and a roof for this purpose, without converting this pre cious chasse to it ! It is indeed a pitiful economy ; and were I tlie Archbishop of Paris, I would be siege the Tuileries with petitions that these hide ous presses might be removed ; and if it raight not be restored to the use of the church, that we inight at least say of it — « la Sainte Chapelle Conservait du vieux tems I'oisivetg fidelle." 110 LA SAINTE CHAPELLE. — BOILEAU. This would at least be better than seeing it con verted into a cupboard of ease to the overflowing records of the Palais de Justice. The length of this pretty reUquaire exactly equals its height, which is divided by a gallery into a lower and upper church, resembling in some degree as to its arrangement the much older structure at Aix-la- ChapeUe, — the high minster there being repre sented by the Sainte Couronne here. As we stood in the raidst of the floor of the church, M. J * * * * * pointed to a certain spot — " Et bientot Le Lutrin se fait voir a nos yeux." He placed rae to stand where that offensive raass of timber stood of yore ; and I could not help thinking that if the poor chantre hated the sight of it as much as I did that of the ignoble cases containing the old parchments, he was ex ceedingly right in doing his utraost to make it disappear. Boileau lies buried here. The spot must have been chosen in consequence of the connexion he had established in the minds of all men between himself and its holy precincts. But it was surely the raost lively and light-hearted connexion that ever was hallowed by so soleran a result. One might fairly steal or parody Vanburgh's epitaph for him — " Rise graceful o'er him, roof I for he Raised many a graceful verse to thee." LA SAINTE CHAPELLE. Ill The preservation of the beautiful painted glass of the windows through the two revolutions which (both of thera) were so busy in labours of me taraorphosis and destruction in the immediate neighbourhood, not to mention all the ordinary chances against the safety of so frail a treasure during so many years, is little short of mira culous ; and, considering the extraordinary sanc tity of the place, it is probably so interpreted by les fiddles. A remarkable proof of the reverence in which. this little shrine was held, in consequence, I pre sume, of the relics it contained, may be found in the dignified style of its establishment. Kings and popes seem to have felt a holy rivalry as to which should most distinguish it by gifts and privileges. The wealth of its functionaries appears greatly to have exceeded the bounds of Christian moderation ; and their pride of place was sustained, notwith standing the petitesse of their dominions, by titles and prerogatives such as no chapelains ever had before. The chief dignitary of the estabUshraent had the title of archichapelain ; and, in 1379, Pope Clement VII. permitted him to wear a mitre, and to pronounce his benediction on the people when they were assembled during any of the pro cessions which took place within the enclosure of the palace. Not only, indeed, did this arch- chaplain take the title of prelate, but in some 112 LA SAINTE CHAPELLE. — RELICS. pubUc acts he is styled " Le Pape de la Sainte ChapeUe." In return for all these riches and honours, foiir out of the seven priests attached to the estabUshraent were obliged to pass the night in the chapel, for the purpose of watching the reUcs. Nevertheless, it appears that, in the year 1575, a portion of the vraie croix was stolen inthe night between the 19th and 20th of May. The thief, however, was strongly suspected to be no less a personage than King Henry III. himself; who, being sorely distressed for money, and know ing from old experience that a traffic in relics was a right royal traffic, bethought hira of a means of extracting a little Venetian gold from this true cross, by leaving it in pawn with the Republic of Venice. At any rate, this much-esteeraed frag- raent disappeared from the Sainte Chapelle, and a piece of the holy rood was left en gage with the Venetians by Henry III. I have transcribed, for your satisfaction, the list I find in Dulaure of the most sacred of the articles for the reception of which this chapel was erected : — Du sang de Notre Seigneur J6sus-Christ. Les drapeaux dont Notre Sauveur fut envelopp6 en son enfance. Du sang qui miraculeusement a distU16 d'une image de Notre Seigneur, ayant 6t6 frappe d'un infidele. La chaine et lien de fer, en maniere d'anneau, dont Notre Seigneur fut lie. La sainte touaille, ou nappe, en un tableau. LA SAINTE CHAPELLE. 113 Du lait de la Vierge. Une partie du suaire dont il fut enseveli. La verge de Moi'se. Les chefs des Saints Blaise, Cleraent, et Simon. Is it not wonderful that the Emperor of Con stantinople could consent to part with such pre cious treasures for the lucre of gain ? I should like to know what has becorae of thera all. As late as the year 1770, the annual cere raony of turning out devils on Good Friday, frora persons pretending to be possessed, was per formed in this chapel. The form prescribed was very siraple, and always found to answer per fectly. As soon as it was understood that all the deraoniacs were asserabled, le grand chantre ap peared, carrying a cross, which, spite of King Henry's supercherie, was declared to enclose in its inraost recesses a raorsel of the vraie croix, and in an instant all the contortions and convulsions ceased, and the possessed became perfectly calra and tranquil, and relieved frora every species of in convenience. Having seen all that this lovely chapel had to show, and particularly examined the spot where the battle of the books took place, the passe-partout of M. J * * * * * caused a mysterious- looking little door in the Sainte Couronne to open for us ; and, after a little climbing, we found our- VOL. II. I 114 RECORDS. — JOAN OF ARC. selves just under the roof of the Palais de Justice. The enorraous space of the grande salle below is here divided into three galleries, each having its entire length, and one-third of its width. The manner in which these galleries are constructed is extremely curious and ingenious, and well de serves a careful examination. I certainly never found myself in a spot of greater interest than this. The enormous collection of records which fill these galleries, arranged as they are in the raost exquisite order, is one of the raost raarvellous spectacles I ever beheld. Araidst the archives of so many centuries, any document that may be wished for, however re raote or however minute, is brought forward in an instant, with as little difficulty as Dr. Dibdin would find in putting his hand upon the best- known treasure in Lord Spencer's library. Our kind friend obtained for us the sight of the volume containing all the original documents respecting the trial of poor Joan of Arc, that most ill-used of heroines. Vice never braved dan ger and raet death with such steady, unwavering courage as she displayed. We saw, too, the fatal warrant which legalised the savage murder of this brave and innocent fanatic. Several other death-warrants of distinguished persons were also shown to us, some of them CURIOUS TRIAL. — ANECDOTE. 115 of great antiquity ; but no royal hand had signed thera. This painful duty is perforraed in France by one of the superior law-officers of the crown, but never by the hand of raajesty. Another curious trial that was opened for our satisfaction, was that of the wretched Marquise de BrinviUiers, the faraous empoisonneuse, who not only destroyed father, brother, husband, at the instigation of her lover, but appears to have used her power of corapounding fatal drugs upon raany other occasions. The murderous atrocities of this woman seem to surpass everything on record, ex cept those of Marguerite de Bourgogne, the incon ceivable heroine of the " Tour de Nesle." I was araused by an anecdote which M. J***** told rae of an Englishman to whom he, sorae years ago, showed these sarae curious papers — among which is the receipt used by Madame de Brin viUiers for the coraposition of the poison whose effects plunged Paris in terror. " Will you do rae the favour to let rae copy this receipt ?" said the Englishman. " I think that ray privilege does not reach quite so far as that," was the discreet reply; and but for this, our countryman's love for chemical science might by this tirae have spread the knowledge of the precious secret over the whole earth. I 2 116 LETTER LIII. French ideas of England. — Making love — Precipitate retreat of a young Frenchman. — Different methods of arranging Marriages. — English Divorce. — English Restaurans. It now and then happens, by a lucky chance, that one finds oneself fuU gallop in a conversation the raost perfectly unreserved, without having had the slightest idea or intention, when it began, of either giving or receiving confidence. This occurred to me a few days ago, while making a morning visit to a lady whom I had never seen but twice before, and then had not ex changed a dozen words with her. But, upon this occasion, we found ourselves very nearly t§te-^- t^te, and got, I know not how, into a most unre strained discussion upon the peculiarities of our respective countries. Madame B * * * has never been in England, but she assured me that her curiosity to visit our country is quite as strong as the passion for inves tigation which drew Robinson Crusoe from his home to visit the " " Savages," said I, finishing the sentence for her. CURIOSITY RESPECTING ENGLAND. 117 " No ! no ! no ! To visit all that is most curious in the world." This phrase, " most curious," seeraed to me of doubtful meaning, and so I told her ; asking whether it referred to the museuras, or the na tives. She seeraed doubtful for a raoraent whether she should be frank or otherwise; and then, with so pretty and playful a raanner as raust, I think, have disarmed the angry nationality of the raost thin- skinned patriot alive, she answered — " Well then — the natives," " But we take such good care," I replied, " that you should not want speciraens of the race to ex amine and make experiments upon, that it would hardly be worth your while to cross the Channel for the sake of seeing the natives. We import ourselves in such prodigious quantities, that I can hardly conceive you should have any curiosity left about us," " On the contrary," she repUed, " ray curiosity is only the raore piquee : I have seen so many deUghtful English persons here, that I die to see them at home, in the raidst of all those singular customs, which they cannot bring with them, and which we only know by the iraperfect accounts of travellers." This sounded, I thought, very rauch as if she were talking of the good people of Mongo Creek, 118 MAKING LOVE IN ENGLAND. or Karakoo Bay ; but being at least as curious to know what her notions were concerning the Eng- lish in their remote horaes, and in the raidst of all their " singular customs," as she could be to be come better acquainted with them, I did ray best to raake her teU me all she had heard about us. " I wUl teU you," she said, " what I want to see beyond everything else : I want to see the mode of making love tout-a-fait a V Anglaise. You know that you are all so polite as to put on our fashions here in every respect ; but a cousin of mine, who was some years ago attached to our Erabassy at London, has described the style of managing love affairs as so ... so roraantic, that it perfectly enchanted rae, and I would give the world to see how it was done (comment cela se fait)." " Pray tell rae how he described it," said I, " and I proraise faithfully to tell you if the pic ture be correct." " Oh, that is so kind ! . . . WeU then," she continued, colouring a little, frora the idea, as I suppose, that she was going to say soraething terribly atrocious, " I wUl tell you exactly what happened to hira. He had a letter of introduc tion to a gentieraan of great estate — a raember of the chamber of your parliaraent, who was living with his family at his chateau in one of the pro vinces, where ray cousin forwarded the letter to MAKING LOVE IN ENGLAND. 119 him. A raost poUte reply was iraraediately re turned, containing a pressing invitation to ray cousin to come to the chateau without delay, and pass a month with thera for the hunting season. Nothing could be raore agreeable than this invita tion, for it offered the best possible opportunity of studying the raanners of the country. Every one can cross frora Calais to Dover, and spend half their year's incorae in walking or driving through the long wide streets of London for six weeks ; but there are very few, you know, who obtain an entree to the chateaux of the noblesse. In short, my cousin was enchanted, and set off immediately. He arrived just in time to arrange his toilet before dinner; and when he entered the salon, he was perfectly dazzled by the exceeding beauty of the three daughters of his host, who were all decolletees, and full-dressed, he says, exactly as if they were going to some very elegant bal park. There was no other company, and he felt a little startled at being received in such a ceremonious style. The young ladies all performed on the piano forte and harp, and my cousin, who is very musical, was in raptures. Had not his admiration been too equally drawn to each, he assures me that be fore the end of that evening he must inevitably have been the conquest of one. TTie next morn ing, the whole faraily raet again at breakfast : the young ladies were as charraing as ever, but still 120 MAKING LOVE IN ENGLAND. he felt in doubt as to which he admired raost. Whilst he was exerting hiraself to be as agreeable as he could, and talking to them all with the timid respect with which demoiselles are always ad dressed by Frenchmen, the father of the faraily startled and certainly alraost alarraed ray cousin by suddenly saying, — " We cannot hunt to-day, raon arai, for I have business which will keep me at home ; but you shall ride into the woods with EUzabeth : she will show you my pheasants. Get ready, EUzabeth, to attend Monsieur !" Madame B * * * stopped short, and looked at me as if expecting that I should make some observation. "Well?" said I. " Well !" she repeated, laughing ; " then you really find nothing extraordinary in this proceed ing — nothing out of the common way ?" " In what respect ?" said I : " what is it that you suppose was out of the coraraon way ?" " That question," said she, clasping her hands in an ecstasy at having made the discovery — " That question puts me more au fait than anything else you could say to me. It is the strongest possible proof that what happened to my cousin was in truth nothing more than what is of every-day occurrence in England." " What did happen to him ?" " Have I not told you ? The father of the young ladies whom he so greatly adraired, se- A YOUNG FRENCHMAN'S RETREAT. 121 lected one of them and desired ray cousin to attend her on an excursion into the woods. My dear raadarae national manners vary so strangely .... I beseech you not to suppose that I imagine that everything may not be exceedingly well arranged notwithstanding. My cousin is a very distinguished young man — excellent charac ter — good name — and will have his father's estate only the raanner is so different " " Did your cousin accompany the young lady ?" said I. " No, he did not — he returned to London im mediately." This was said so gravely — so more than gravely — with an air of so much more meaning than she thought it civil to express, that my gravity and politeness gave way together, and I laughed raost heartily. My araiable corapanion, however, did not take it araiss — she only laughed with me ; and when we had recovered our gravity, she said, " So you find my cousin very ridiculous for throwing up the party ? — un peu timide, peut-etre ?" " Oh no !" I replied—" only a Uttle hasty." " Hasty ! Mais que voulez-vous? You do not seem to comprehend his erabarrassraent." " Perhaps not fully; but I assure you his em barrassment would have ceased altogether, had he trusted himself with the young lady and her at tendant groom: I doubt not that she would have 122 MAKING LOVE IN ENGLAND. led the way through one of our beautiful pheasant preserves, which are exceedingly well worth see ing; but most certainly she would have been greatly astonished, and much erabarrasseii in her tum, had your cousin taken it into his head to make love to her." " You are in earnest?" said she, looking in ray face with an air of great interest. " Indeed I ara," I replied ; " I am very seriously in earnest ; and though I know not the persons of whom we have been speaking, I can venture to asstire you positively, that it was only because no gentleman so well recommended as your cousin could be suspected of abusing the confidence re posed in hira, that this English father permitted hira to accompany the young lady in her morning ride." " C'est done un trait sublirae ! " she exclaimed : " what noble confidence — what confiding honour ! It is enough to reraind one of the paladins of old." " I suspect you are quizzing our confiding sim pUcity," said I ; " but, at any rate, do not suspect rae of quizzing you — for I have told you nothing raore than a very simple and certain fact." " I doubt it not the least in the world," she repUed ; " but you are indeed, as I observed at first, superiorly romantic." She appeared to me ditate for a moment, and then added, " Mais dites ACQUIRING OF HUSBANDS. 123 moi un peu .... is not this a little inconsistent with the stories we read in the * novels of fashion able life' respecting the manner in which hus- *bands are acquired for the young ladies of Eng land ? . . . You refuse yourselves, you know, the privilege of disposing of your daughters in marri age according to the mutual interests of the par ties ; and therefore, as young ladies must be mar ried, it follows that some other means must be resorted to by the parents. All Frenchmen know this, and they raay perhaps for that reason be sometiraes too easily induced to iraagine that it is intended to lead thera into raarriage by captivat ing their senses. This is so natural an infer ence, that you reaUy raust forgive it." " I forgive it perfectly," I replied ; " but as we have agreed not to mystify each other, it would not be fair to leave you in the belief that it is the custora, in order to ' acquire' husbands for the young ladies, that they should be sent on love- making expeditions into the woods with the pre mier venu. But what you have said enables me to understand a passage which I was reading the other day in a French story, and which puzzled rae most exceedingly. It was on the subject of a young girl who had been forsaken by her lover ; and some one, reproaching hira for his conduct, uses, I think, these words : ' Apres I'avoir compro mise autant qu'il est possible de comprornettre une 124 ENGLISH FEMALE CHARACTER. jeune miss — ce qui n'est pas une chose absoluraent facile dans la bienheurcuse Albion . . .' This puz zled rae raore than I can express ; because the fact is, that we consider the compromising the reputation of a young lady as so treraendous a thing, that excepting in novels, where neither na tional manners nor natural probabilities are per mitted to check the necessary accuraulation of misery on the head of a heroine, it never oc curs ; and this, not because nothing can compro mise her, but because nothing that can compromise her is ever permitted, or, I might almost say, ever atterapted. Among the lower orders, in deed, stories of seduction are but too frequent ; but our present examination of national man ners refers only to the raiddle and higher classes of society." Madame B * * * Ustened to me with the raost earnest attention ; and after I had ceased speak ing, she remained silent, as if meditating on what she had heard. At length she said, in a tone of much more seriousness than she had yet used, — " I am quite sure that every word you say is parfaite- ment exact — ^your manner persuades me that you are speaking neither with exaggeration nor in jest : cependant ... I cannot conceal frora you ihy astonishment at your stateraent. The re ceived opinion araong us is, that private and con cealed infidelities among married women are pro- ENGLISH FEMALE CHARACTER. 125 bably less frequent in England than in France — because it seeras to be essentially dans vos moeurs de faire un grand scandale whenever such a cir curastance occurs ; and this, with the penalties annexed to it, undoubtedly acts as a prevention. But, on the other hand, it is universally considered as a fact, that yoU are as lenient to the indiscre tions of unraarried ladies, as severe to those of the married ones. Tell me — is there not some truth in this idea ? " " Not the least in the world, I do assure you. On the contrary, I am persuaded that in no coun try is there any race of woraen frora whora such undeviating purity and propriety of conduct is deraanded as from the unmarried wornen of Eng land. Slander cannot attach to thera, because it is as well known as that a Jew is not qualified to sit in parUament, that a single woman suspected of indiscretion immediately dies a civil death — she sinks out of society, and is no more heard of; and it is therefore that I have ventured to say, that a comproraised reputation among the un raarried ladies of England never occurs." " Nous nous sommes singuUerement trorap6s sur tout cela done, nous autres," said Madame g * * * « But the single ladies no longer young ?" she continued ; — " forgive me . . . but is it really supposed that they pass their entire lives without any indiscretion at all ? " 126 ERRONEOUS IMPRESSION. This question was asked in a tone of such utter incredulity as to the possibiUty of a reply in the affirmative, that I again lost my gravity, and laughed heartily ; but, after a raoraent, I assured her very seriously that such was most undoubtedly the case. The naive raanner in which she exclaimed in reply, "Est-il possible!" might have made the fortune of a young actress. There was, however, no acting in the case ; Madame B * * * was most perfectly unaffected in her expression of sur prise, and assured me that it would be shared by all Frenchwomen who should be so fortunate as to find occasion, like herself, to receive' such inforraa tion frora indisputable authority. " Quant aux hommes," she added, laughing, " je doute fort si vous en trouverez de si croyans." We pursued our conversation much farther; but were I to repeat the whole, you would only find it contained raany repetitions of the sarae fact — naraely, that a very strong persuasion exists in France, araong those who are not personally well acquainted with EngUsh manners, that the mode in which marriages are arranged, rather by the young people themselves than by their relatives, produces an effect upon the Conduct of our unmarried fe raales which is not only as far as possible frora the truth, but so preposterously so, as never to have entered into any EngUsh head to imagine. OPINION OF ENGLISH DIVORCE. 127 So few opportunities for anything approaching to intiraaey between French and English woraen arise, that it is not very easy for us to find out exactly what their real opinion is concerning us. Nothing in Madarae B * * * 's manner could lead me to suspect that any feeling of reprobation or contempt mixed itself with her belief respecting the extraordinary license which she supposed was accorded to unmarried woraan. Nothing could be more indulgent than her tone of comraentary on our national peculiarities, as she called thera. The only therae which elicited an expression of harshness from her was the manner in which di vorces were obtained and paid for : " Se faire payer pour une aventure serablable ! . . . pubUer un scandale si ridicule, si offensant pour son amour- propre — si fortement contre les bonnes raoeurs, pour en recevoir de I'argent, was," she said, " per fectly incoraprehensible in a nation de si braves gens que les Anglais." I did ray best to defend our raode of proceeding in such cases upon the principles of justice and raorality ; but French prejudices on this point are too inveterate to be shaken by any eloquence of mine. We parted, however, the best friends in the world, and mutually grateful for the informa tion we had received. This conversation only furnished one, among several instances, in which I have been astonished 128 FLYING TRAVELLERS. to discover the raany popular errors which are still current in France respecting England. Can we fairly doubt that, in many cases where we con sider ourselves as perfectly well-informed, we may be quite as rauch in the dark respecting thera ? It is certain that the habit so general among us of flying over to Paris for a week or two every now and then, must have made a great number of individuals acquainted with the external aspect of France between Calais and Paris, and also with all the most conspicuous objects of the capital it self — its churches and its theatres, its , little river and its great coffee-houses : but it is an extreme ly small proportion of these flying travellers who ever enter into any society beyond what they may encounter in public ; and to all such, France can be very little better known than England is to those who content themselves with perusing the descriptions we give of ourselves in our novels and newspapers. Of the small advance raade towards obtaining inforraation by such visits as these, I have had raany opportunities of judging for rayself, both araong English and French, but never more satisfactorily than at a dinner-party at the house of an old widow lady, who certainly understands our language perfectly, and appears to me to read more EngUsh books, and to be more in terested about their authors, than almost any CONVERSATION WITH ONE. 129 one I ever raet with. She has never crossed the Channel, however, and has rather an over weening degree of respect for such of her country men as have enjoyed the privilege of looking at us face to face on our own soil. The day I dined with her, one of these tra velled gentlemen was led up and presented to rae as a person well acquainted with my country. His narae was placed on the cover next to the one destined for me at table, and it was evident ly intended that we should derive our principal amuseraent frora the conversation of each other. As I never saw him before or since, as I never expect to see him again, and as I do not even remember his name, I think I am guilty of no breach of confidence by repeating to you a few of the ideas upon England which he had acquired on his travels. His first remark after we were placed at table was, — " You do not, I think, use table-napkins in England ; — do you not find thera rather erabar- rassing?" The next was, — " I observed during ray stay in England that it is not the custom to eat soup : I hope, however, that you do not find it disagreeable to your palate ?"...." You have, I think, no national cuisine ?" was the third observation ; and upon this singularity in our manners he was eloquent. "Yet, after all," said he consolingly, " France is in fact the only VOL. II, K 130 CONVERSATION WITH country which has one : Spain is too oily — Italy too spicy. We have sent artists into Germany ; but this cannot be said to constitute une cuisine nationale. Pour dire vrai, however, the rosbif of England is hardly more scientific than the sun- dried meat of the Tartars. A Frenehraan would be starved in England did he not Ught upon one of the iraported artists, — and, happUy for travellers, this is no longer difficult." " Did you dine rauch in private society ? " said I. "No, I did not: ray time was too constantly occupied to perrait my doing so." " We have some very good hotels, however, in London." "But no tables d'hdte!" he replied with a shrug. " I did very well, nevertheless ; for I never permitted rayself to venture anywhere for the purpose of dining excepting to your cele brated Leicester-square. It is the raost fashion able part of London, I believe ; or, at least, the only fashionable restaurans are to be found there." I ventured very gently to hint that there were other parts of London raore k-la-raode, and raany hotels which had the reputation of a better cui sine than any which could be found in Leicester- square ; but the observation appeared to displease A FLYING TRAVELLER. 131 the traveller, and the belle harraonie which it was intended should subsist between us was evidently shaken thereby, for I heard him say in a half- whisper to the person who sat on the other side of him, and who had been attentively listening to our discourse, — " Pas exact . . . ." K 2 132 LETTER LIV. Mixed Society. — Influence of the English Clergy and their Farailies. — Importance of their station in Society. Though I am still of opinion that French society, properly so called, — that is to say, the society of the educated ladies and gentleraen of France, — ^is the raost graceful, aniraated, and fasci nating in the world ; I think, nevertheless, that it is not as perfect as it raight be, were a little raore exclusiveness permitted in the formation of it. No one can be really well acquainted with good society in this country without being con vinced that there are both men and woraen to be found in it who to the best graces add the best virtues of social life ; but it is equaUy im possible to deny, that admirable as are sorae indi viduals of the circle, they all exercise a degree of toleration to persons less estimable, which, when some well-authenticated anecdotes are raade known to us, is, to say the least of it, very startling to the feelings of those who are not to this easy raanner either born or bred. To look into the hearts of all who forra either MIXED SOCIETY. 133 a Parisian or a London lady's visiting list, in order to discover of what stuff each individual be made, would not perhaps be very wise, and is luckily quite impossible. Nothing at all ap proaching to such a scrutiny can be reasonably wished or expected from those who open their doors for the reception of corapany; but where society is perfectly well ordered, no one of either sex, I think, whose outward and visible conduct has brought upon thera the eyes of all and the reprobation of the good, should be adraitted. That such are adraitted much raore freely in France than in England, cannot be denied ; and though there are raany who conscientiously keep aloof frora such intercourse, and more who mark plainly enough that there is a distance in spirit even where there is vicinity of person, still I think it is greatly to be regretted that such a leven of disunion should ever be suffered to insinuate itself into raeetings which would be so infinitely raore agreeable as well as raore respect able without it. One reason, I doubt not, why there is less exclusiveness and severity of selection in the forraing a circle here is, that there are no indi viduals, or rather no class of individuals, in the wide circle which constitutes what is called en grand the society of Paris, who could step for ward with propriety and say, " This may not be."- 134 INFLUENCE OF With us, happily, the case is as yet different. The clergy of England, their raatronly wives and highly-educated daughters, form a distinct caste, to which there is nothing that answers in the whole range of continental Europe. In this caste, however, are raingled a portion of every other ; yet it has a dignity and aristocracy of its own : and in this aristocracy are blended the high blood of the noble, the learning which has in many instances sufficed to raise to a level with it the obscure and needy, and the piety which has given station above either to those whose un spotted lives have raarked thera out as pre-erai- nent in the holy profession they have chosen. While such raen as these raingle freely in society, as they constantly do in England, and bring with thera the females who form their fa milies, there is little danger that notorious vice should choose to obtrude itself. It will hardly be denied, I believe, that many a frail fair one, who would boldly push her way among erraine and coronets where the mitre was not, would shrink from parading her doubtful honours where it was : and it is equally certain, that raany a thoughtless, easy, careless giver of fine parties has been prevented from filling up her constellation of beauties because " It is im possible to have Lady This, or Mrs. That, when the bishop and his family are expected." THE ENGLISH CLERGY. 135 Nor is this wholesome influence confined to the higher ranks alone ; — the rector of the parish — nay, even his young curate, with a smooth cheek and alraost unrazored chin, will in hurabler circles produce the sarae effect. In short, wherever an English clergyraan or an English clergyraan's fa mily appears, there decency is in presence, and the canker of known and tolerated vice is not. Whenever we find ourselves weary of this re straint, and anxious to mix (unshackled by the silent rebuke of such a presence) with what ever may be raost attractive to the eye or araus ing to the spirit, let the stamp of vice be as notorious upon it as it may, whenever we reach this state, it will be the right and proper time to pass the Irish Church Bill. These meditations have been thrust upon me by the reply I received in answer to a question which I addressed to a lady of my acquaintance at a party the other evening. " Who is that very elegant-looking woraan ?" said I. " Itis Madarae de C * * * * *," was the reply. " Have you never raet her before ? She is very rauch in society ; one sees her everywhere. I replied, that I had seen her once or twice be fore, but had never learned her narae ; adding, that it was not only her narae I was anxious to learn, but something about her. She looked Uke 136 MORAL TOLERATION. a personage, a heroine, a sybil : in short, it was one of those heads and busts that one seeras to have the sarae right to stare at, as at a fine pic ture or statue ; they appear a part of the decora tions, only they excite a little more interest and curiosity. " Can you not tell rae something of her cha racter?" said I :,/' I never saw so picturesque a figure ; I could fancy that the spirit of Titian had presided at her toilet." " It was only the spirit of coquetry, I suspect," answered my friend with a sraile. " But if you are so anxious to know her, I can give you her character and history in very few words : — she is rich, high-born, intellectual, political, and un chaste." I do not think I started ; I should be shocked to believe myself so unfit for a salon as to testify surprise thus openly at anything ; but my friend looked at me and laughed. " You are astonished at seeing her here ? But I have told you that you may expect to meet her everywhere ; except, indeed, chez moi, and at a few exceedingly rococo houses besides." As the lady I was talking to happened to be an EngUshwoman, though for raany years a resi dent in Paris, I ventured to hint the surprise I felt that a person known to be what she described MORAL TOLERATION. 137 Madame de C * * f * * should be so universally received in good society. " It is very true," she replied : " it is surpris ing, and more so to rae perhaps than to you, because I know thoroughly well the irreproach able character and genuine worth of raany who receive her. I consider this," she continued, " as one of the^ most singular traits in^Parisian society. If, as many traveUers have most falsely insinuated, the women of Paris were generally corrupt and licentious, there would be nothing extraordinary in it : but it is not so. Where neither the hus band, the relatives, the servants, nor any one else, has any wish or intention of discovering or exposing the frailty of a wife, it is certainly im possible to say that it may not often exist with out being either known or suspected : but with this, general society cannot interfere ; and those whose temper or habits of mind lead them to sus pect evil wherever it is possible that it may be concealed, may often lose the pleasure of friend ship founded on esteem, solely because it is pos sible that some hidden faults may render their neighbour unworthy of it. That such tempers are not often to be found in France, is certainly no proof of the depravity of national manners ; but where notorious irregularity of conduct has brought a woraan fairly before the bar of public 138 MORAL TOLERATION, opinion, it does appear to rae very extraordinary that such a person as otir hostess, and very raany others equally irreproachable, should receive her," " I presurae," said I, " that Madame de C ***** is not the only person towards whora this re raarkable species of tolerance is exercised ?" " Certainly not. There are raany others -whose liaisons are as well known as hers, who are also adraitted into the best society. But observe — ^I know no instance where such are permitted to enter within the narrower circle of intiraate do mestic friendship. No one in Paris seems to think that they have any right to examine into the private history of all the 6ligantes who fiU its salons ; but I beUeve they take as good care to know the friends whom they adrait to the inti raaey of their private hours as we do. There, however, this species of decorum ends ; and they would no more turn back from entering a room where they saw Madarae de C * * * * *, than a London lady would drive away frora the opera because she saw the carriage of Lady at the door." "There is no paraUel, however, between the cases," said I. "No, certainly," she replied; "but it is not the less certain that the Parisians appear to think otherwise." Now it appears evident to me, that aU this MORAL TOLERATION. 139 arises rauch less frora general licentiousness of rao rals than frora general easiness of teraper. Sans Souci is the darling device of the whole nation : and how can this be adhered to, if they set about the very arduous task of driving out of society all those who do not deserve to be in it ? But while feeling sincerely persuaded, as I really do, that this difference in the degree of raoral toleration practised by the two countries does not arise frora any depravity in the French character, I cannot but think that our mode of proceeding in this respect is infinitely better. It is raore con ducive, not only to virtue, but to agreeable and unrestrained intercourse ; and for this reason, if for no other, it is deeply our interest to uphold with all possible reverence and dignity that class whose presence is of itself sufficient to guarantee at least the reputation of propriety, in every circle in which they appear. Though not very gerraan to Paris and the Parisians, which I proraised should make the sub jects of my letters as long as I reraained araong them, I cannot help observing how utterly this most iraportant influence would be destroyed in the higher circles — which will ever forra the rao del of those below thera — if the riches, rank, and worldly honours of this class are wrested from thera. It is indeed very certain that a clergy man, whether bishop, priest, or deacon, may per- 140 CANT RESPECTING THE form the duty of a minister in the desk, at the altar, or in the pulpit, though he has to walk horae afterwards to an hurable dwelling and an hurable raeal : he raay perform this duty well, and to the entire satisfaction of the rich and great, though his poverty raay prevent hira frora ever taking his place araong thera ; but he may not — he can not, while such is the station allotted him, produce that effect on society, and exert that in fluence on the morals of the people, which he would do were his teraporal place and power such as to exalt him in the eyes even of the most worldly. Araidst all the varieties of cant to which it is the destiny of the present age to listen, there is none which I endure with so little patience as that which preaches the "humility of the church." Were there the shadow of reason or logic in the arguraents for the degradation of the clergy drawn from the Scriptures, they raust go the length, of showing that, in order to follow the exaraple of the great Master, they raust all belong to the class of carpenters and fishermen. Could we iraagine another revelation of the Divinity accorded to raan, it would be natural enough to conceive that the rich gift of direct inspiration should be again given to those who had neither learning, knowledge, pride, nor power of any kind, to combat or resist, to explain or to weaken. HUMILITY OF THE CHURCH. 141 the coramunication which it was their duty sim ply to record and spread abroad. But the eter nal word of God once delivered, does it follow that those who are carefully instructed in aU the various learning which can assist in giving strength and authority to the propagation of it should alone, of aU the sons of raen, be for ever dooraed to the lower walks of social life in order to irai tate the humility of the Saviour of the world ? I know not if there be raore nonsense or blas- pheray in this. The taking the office of preach ing his own blessed will to raan was an act of huraility in God ; but the taking upon theraselves to instruct their fellow-raen in the law thus so leranly left us, is a great assumption of dignity in men, — and where the offices it iraposes are well perforraed, it becoraes one of the first duties of the believers in the doctrine they have raade it their calUng to expound, to honour thera with such honour as mortals can understand and value. If any one be found who does not perforra the duties of this high calling in the best manner which his ability enables hira to do, let hira be degraded as he deserves ; but while he holds it, let hira not be denied the dignity of state and station to which all his fellow-citizens in their different' walks aspire, in order forsooth to keep him humble! Humble indeed — yea, humbled to the dust, wiU our long-venerated church and its insulted minis- 142 CHURCH SPOLIATION. ters be, if its destiny and their fortune be left at the raercy of those who have lately undertaken to legislate for thera. I often feel a sort of va-_ pourish, vague uncertainty of disbelief, as I read the records of what has been passing in the House of Comraons on this subject. I cannot realise it, as the Americans say, that the raajority of the English parliaraent should consent to be led blind fold upon such a point as this, by a set of low born, ignorant, bullying papists. I hope, when I return to England, I shall awake and find that it is not so. And now forgive me for this long digression : I will write to you to-morrow upon soraething as essentially French as possible, to make up for it. 143 LETTER LV. Le Grand Opera — Its enormous Expense — Its Fashion — Its acknowledged Dulness. — 'La Juive' — Its heavy Mu sic — Its exceeding Splendour — Beautiful management of the Scenery. — National Music. Can I better keep the proraise I gave you yesterday than by writing you a letter of and concerning le grand op6ra? Is there anything in the world so perfectly French as this ? Sorae thing like their pretty op^ra coraique raay exist elsewhere ; we have our comic opera, and Italy has her buffa; the op^ra Italien, too, may be rather more than rivalled at the Haymarket : but where out of Paris are we to look for anything like the Acad6raie Royale de Musique ? . . . . le grand op6ra ? . . . . rop6ra par excellence ? — I raay safely answer, nowhere. It is an institution of which the expenses are so enorraous, that though it is raore constantly and fully attended perhaps than any other theatre in the world, it could not be sustained without the aid of funds supplied by the governraent. The 144 THE GRAND OPERA. extraordinary partiality for this theatre seeras to have existed araong the higher classes, without any intermission from change of fashion, occa sional inferiority of the performances, or any other cause, frora the time of Louis Quatorze to the present. That iraraortal monarch, whose whira was power, and whose word was law, granted a patent privilege to this establishment in favour of the musical Abbe Perrin, but speedily revoked it, to bestow one more ample still on LuUi. In this latter act, it is ordained that " tous gentilshommes et demoiselles puissent chanter aux dites pieces et representations de notre dite Acadimie Royale sans que pour ffl iis soient census dtroger au dit titre de noblesse et d leurs privileges." This was a droll device to exalt this pet play thing of the fashionable world above all others. Voltaire fell into the mode like the rest of the fine folks, and thus expressed his sensibility to its attractions : — " II faut se rendre a ce palais magique, Ou les beaux vers, la danse, la musique, L'art de charmer les yeux par les couleurs, L'art plus heureux de s6duire les coeurs, De cent plaisirs font un, plaisir unique." But the raost incoraprehensible part of the busi ness is, that with all this enthusiasra, which cer tainly rather goes on increasing than dirainishing, every one declares that he is ennuyk a la mort at le grand op^ra. THE GRAND OPERA. 145 I do not mean that their being ennuyfes is incom prehensible — Heaven knows that I understand that perfectly : but why, when this is avowed, they should continue to persecute theraselves by going there two or three tiraes in every week, I cannot coraprehend. If attendance at the opera were here, as it is with us, a sort of criterion of the love of music and other fine arts, it would be much less difficult to understand : but this is far from being the case, as both the Italian and the coraic operas have raore perfect orchestras. The style and manner of singing, too, are what no genuine lover of music could ever be brought to tolerate. When the remembrance of a German or Italian opera coraes across one while listening to the dry, heavy recitative of the Aeaderay, it produces a feeling of irapatience difficult to conceive by those who have never experienced it. If, however, instead of being taken in by the narae of opera, and expecting the musical treat which that name seems to promise, we go to this magnificent theatre for the purpose of seeing the most superb and the best-fancied decorations in the world, we shall at least not be disappoint ed, though before the end of the entertainment we may probably become heartily weary of gazing at and admiring the dazzling pageant. I told you just now what Voltaire said of the opera, either VOL. II. L 146 THE GRAND OPERA. when he was particularly enchanted by some reign ing star — the adorable Sophie Arnould perhaps — or else when he chose tobe particularly k-la-mode: but he seeras raore soberly in earnest, I think, when he says afterwards, " L'opera n'est qu'un rendez vous publique, ou l'on s'asserable a certains jours, sans trop savoir pourquoi : c'est une maison oil tout le monde va, quoiqu'on pense raal du maitre, et qu'U soit assez ennuyeux." That little phrase, " ou tout le monde va," con tains, I suspect after all, the only true solution of the mystery. " Man is a gregarious aniraal," say the philosophers ; and it is therefore only in con forraity to this well-known law of his nature that hes and shes flock by thousands to be pent up together, in defiance of raost triste musique and a stifling atmosphere, within the walls of this beau tiful puppet-show. That it is beautiful, I am at this moment par ticularly willing to avouch, as we have just been regaling ourselves, or rather our eyes, with as gorgeous a spectacle there as it ever entered into the heart of a carpenter to italer on the stage of a theatre. This splendid show is known by the narae of " La Juive ;" but it should rather have been called " Le Cardinal," for a personage of no less dignity is decidedly its hero. M. Halevy is the coraposer, and M. Scribe the author of the " paroles." M. Scribe stands so high as a draraatic cora- LA JUIVE. 147 poser, that I suppose he may sport a Uttle with his fame without running rauch risk of doing it an injury : but as the Academic Royale has the right of drawing upon the Treasury for its necessities, it is to be hoped that the author of " Bertrand et Raton" is well paid for lending his name to the pegs on which ermine and velvet, feathers and flowers, cardinals' hats and eraperors' mantles, are hung up to view for the amusement of all who raay be curious in such raatters. I suspect, how ever, that the coraposition of this piece did not cost the poet many sleepless nights : perhaps he re merabered that excellent axiora of the Barbier de Seville, — " Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'etre dit, on le chante;" and under this sentence I think such verses as the following, which strongly re mind one of the famous LiUiputian ode in the Bath Guide, raay fairly enough be conderaned to rausic. " FiUe chere, Pres d'un pere Viens mourir ; Et pardonne Quand il donne La couronne Du martyr ! Plus de plain te — Vaine crainte Est 6teinte En mon coeur ; Saint delire ! Dieu m'inspire, Et j'expire Vainqueur." l 2 148 LA JUIVE, Unhappily, however, the rausic is at least as worthless as the rhyraes. There is one passage, nevertheless, that is singularly irapressive and beautiful. This is the chorus at the opening of the second act, where a party of Jews assembled to eat the passover chant a grace in these words : — " Oh I Dieu de nos peres I Toi qui nous ^claires, Parmi nous descends I" &c. &c. &c. This is very fine, but perhaps it approaches rather too closely to the " Dieu d'Israel" in M^hul's opera of " Joseph" to be greatly vaunted on the score of originality. Yet, with all these " points of 'vantage" at which it raay be hostilely attacked, " La Juive" draws thousands to gaze at its splendour every time it is perforraed. Twice we atterapted to get in with out having secured places, and were told on both occasions that there was not even standing-room for gentleraen. Araong its attractions are two which are alike new to rae as belonging to an opera : one is the performance of the " Te Deura laudamus," and the other the entrance of Franconi's troop of horse. But, after all, it was clear enough that, whatever may have been the original object of this institu tion, with its nursery academies of rausic and dancing, its royal patronage and legalised ex- LA JUIVE. 149 travagance, its present glory rests alraost wholly on the talents of-the Taglioni faraily, and with the sundry MM. ddcorateurs who have iraagined and arranged the getting up this extraordinary speciraen of scenic magnificence, as well as the many others of the same kind which have pre ceded it. I have seen many very fine shows of the kind in London, but certainly never anything that could at all be compared with this. Individual scenes — as, for instance, that of the masqued ball in " Gus tavus" — raay equal, by the effect of the first coup- d'oeil, any scene in " La Juive" ; but it is the extra ordinary propriety and perfection of aU the acces saries which raake this part of the performance worthy of a critical study from the beginning to the end of it. I remember reading in some history of Paris, that it was the fashion to be so prkcieuse as to the correctness of the costumes of the French opera, that the manager could not venture to bring out " Les Trois Sultanes" without sending to Constan tinople to obtain the dresses. A very considerable portion of the same spirit has evidently been at work to render the appearance of a large detach ment of the court of Rome and the whole court of the Eraperor Sigismund comme ilfaut upon the scene. But, with all a woraan's weakness at ray heart in favour of velvet, satin, gold tissue, and ermine, 150 LA JUIVE. I cannot but confess that these things, important as they are, appear but secondary aids in the magical scenic effects of " La Juive." The ar rangement and raanagement of the scenery were to me perfectly new. The coulisses have vanished, side scenes are no more, — and, what is more iraportant still, these adrairable mechanists have found the way of throwing across the stage those accidental masses of shadow by aid of which Na ture produces her raost brilliant effects ; so that, instead of the aching eyes having to gaze upon a blaze of reflected light, reUeved only by an occa sional dip of the foot-lights and a sudden paling of gas in order to enact night, they are now enchanted and beguiled by exactly such a raixture of light and shade as an able painter would give to a picture. How this is effected. Heaven knows ! There are, I ara very sure, raore things at present above, about, and underneath the opera stage, tban are drearaed of in any phUosophy, excepting that of a Parisian carpenter. In the first scene of the " Juive," a very noble-looking church rears its som bre front exactly in the centre of the stage, throw ing as fine, rich, deep a shadow on one side of it as Notre Dame herself could do. In another scene, half the stage appears to be sunk below the level of the eye, and is totally lost sight of, a low pa rapet waU marking the boundary of the seeraing river. LA JUIVE. 151 Our box was exceUently situated, and by no raeans distant frora the stage ; yet we often found it irapossible to deterraine at what point, in different directions, the boards ended and the scenery began. The arrangement of the groups too, not merely in corabinations of grace and beauty, but in such bold, easy, and picturesque variety, that one might fancy MuriUo had made the sketches for them, was another source of wonder and adrairation ; and had all -these pretty sights been shown us in the course of two acts instead of five, I ara sure we should have gone horae quite deUghted and in the highest possible good-humour. But five acts of raree-show is too much ; and accordingly we yawned, and talked of Gretry, M^hul, Nicolo, and I know not whora beside ; — in short, becarae as splenetic and pe dantic as possible. We indulged ourselves occasionally in this un- araiable mood by communicating our feelings to each other, in a whisper however which could not go beyond our own box, and with the less re straint because we felt sure that the one stranger gentleman who shared it with us could not under stand our language. But herein we egregiously deceived ourselves : though in appearance he was Francais jusqu aux ongles, we soon found out that he could speak EngUsh as well as any of us ; and, with much real politeness, he had the good-nature 152 NATIONAL MUSIC. to let us know this before we had uttered any thing too profoundly John Bullish to be forgiven. Fortunately, too, it appeared that our judg ments accorded as well as if we had all been born in the sarae parish. He lamented the decadence of music in this, which ought to be its especial theatre ; but spoke with enthusiasra of the Theatre Italien, and its great superiority in science over every other in Paris. This theatre, to ray great vexation, is now closed ; but I well reraember that such too was my judgment of it some seven years ago. The English and the French are generally classed together as having neither one nor the other any really national rausic of their own. We have both of us, however, sorae sweet and perfectly original airs, which will endure as long as the raodulations of sound are perraitted to enchant our raortal ears. Nevertheless, I ara not going to appeal against a sentence too often repeated not to be universally received as truth. But, notwith standing this absence of any distinct school of na tional rausic, it is impossible to doubt that the people of both countries are fondly attached to the science. More sacrifices are made by both to obtain good rausic than the happy Gerraan and Italian people would ever dreara of making. Nor would it, I think, be fair to argue, from the pre sent style of the perforraances at the Academic, LOVE OF MUSIC. 153 that the love of rausic is on the decline here. The unbounded expense bestowed upon decorations, and the pomp and splendour of effect which results from it, are quite enough to attract and dazzle the eyes of a raore " thinking people" than the Pari sians ; and the unprecedented perfection to which the raechanists have brought the delusion of still- Ufe seeras to perrait a relaxation in the efforts of the manager to obtain attraction frora other sources. But this will not last. The French people really love rausic, and will have it. It is raore than probable that the rausical branch of this aca- deraic establishment will soon revive ; and if in doing so it preserve its present superiority of de coration, it will again becorae an amusement of unrivalled attraction. I believe the French theraselves generally con sider us as having less claim to the reputation of rausical araateurship than theraselves ; but, with rauch respect for their judgment on such subjects, I differ from thera wholly in this. When has France ever shown, either in her capital or out of it, such a glorious burst of rausical enthusiasm as produced the festivals of Westminster Abbey and of York ? It was not for the sake of encouraging an Eng lish school of music, certainly, that these ex traordinary efforts were made. They were not 154 ANCIENT MUSIC CONCERT, native strains which rang along the vaulted roofs ; but it was English taste, and English feeling, which recently, as well as in days of yore, con ceived and executed a scheme of harmony more perfect and subUrae than I can remember to have heard of elsewhere, I doubt, too, if in any country a musical insti tution can be pointed out in purer taste than that of our ancient music concert. The style and manner of this are wholly national, though the compositions performed there are but partially so ; and I think no one who truly and deeply loves the science but must feel that there is a character in it which, considering the estimation in which it has for so raany years been held, raay fairly re- deera the whole nation from any deficiency in musical taste. There is one branch of the " gay science," if I raay so call it, which I always expect to find in France, but respecting which I have hitherto been always disappointed : this is in the hurable class of itinerant rausicians. In Gerraany they abound ; and it not seldom happens that their strains arrest the feet aad enchant the ear of the most fastidious. But whenever, in France, I have encountered an ambulant troubadour, I con fess I have felt no inclination to linger on my way to listen to hira. I do not, however, raean to claira rauch honour for ourselves on the score of ITINERANT MUSICIANS. 155 our traveUing rainstrels. If we fail to pause in Ustening to those of France, we seldora fail to run whenever our ears are overtaken by our own. Yet still we give strong proof of our love of music, in the more than ordinary strains which may be occasionally heard before every coffee house in London, when the noise and racket of the morning has given place to the hours of enjoyment. I have heard that the bands of wind instruments which nightly parade through the streets of London receive donations which, taken on an average throughout the year, would be suf ficient to support a theatre. This can only pro ceed frora a genuine propensity to being " raoved by concord of sweet sounds ;" for no fashion, as is the case at our costly operas, leads to it. On the contrary, it is most decidedly mauvais ton to be caught listening to this unexclusive harmony ; yet it is encouraged in a degree that clearly indicates the popular feeling. Have I then proved to your satisfaction, as corapletely as I undoubtedly have to my own, that if without a national music, at least we are not without a national taste for it ? 156 LETTER LVI. The Abbe Deguerry — His eloquence. — Excursion across the water. — Library of Ste. Genevieve. — Copy-book of the Dauphin St. Etienne du Mont — Pantheon. The finest serraon I have heard since I have been in Paris — and, I ara alraost inclined to think, the finest I ever heard anywhere — was preached yesterday by the Abb6 Deguerry at St. Roch. It was a discourse calculated to benefit all Christian souls of every sect and denomination whatever — had no shade of doctrinal allusion in it of any kind, and was just such a serraon as one could wish every soi-disant infidel might be forced to listen to while the eyes of a Christian congre gation were fixed upon hira. It would do one good to see such a being cower and shrink, in the raidst of his impotent and petulant arrogance, to feel how a " plain word could put him down." The Abbe Deguerry is a young man, apparently under thirty ; but nature seems to have put him at once in possession of a talent which generally re- THE ABBE DEGUERRY. 157 quires long years to bring to perfection. He is eloquent in the very best manner ; for it is an elo quence intended rather to benefit the hearer than to do honour to the mere human talent of the orator. Beautifully as his periods flowed, I felt certain, as I listened to hira, that their harmonious rhythm was the result of no study, but purely the effect, unconsciously displayed, of a fine ear and an alraost unbounded command of language. He had studied his matter, — he had studied and deeply weighed his arguraents ; but, for his style, it was the free gift of Heaven. Extempore preaching has always appeared to me to be a fearfully presumptuous exercise. Thoughts well digested, expressions carefully chosen, and arguments conscientiously examined, are no raore than every congregation has a right to expect frora one who addresses them with all the authority of place on subjects of most high importance ; and rare indeed is the talent which can produce this without cautious and deliberate study. But in listening to the Abbe Deguerry, I perceived it was possible that a great and pe culiar talent, joined to early and constant prac tice, might enable a man to address his fellow- creatures without presumption even though he had not written his sermon ; — yet it is probable that I should be more correct were I to say, with- 158 RiELAXATION OF CLERICAL DIGNITY. out reading it to his congregation, for it is hardly possible to believe that such a coraposition was actually and altogether extempore. His arguraent, which was to show the helpless insufficiency of man without the assistance of re velation and religious faith, was never lost sight of for an instant. There was no weak wordiness^ no repetition, no hacknied ornaments of rhetoric ; but it was the voice of truth, speaking in that language of universal eloquence which all nations and\aU creeds must feel; and it flowed on with unbroken clearness, beauty, and power, to the end. Having recently quitted Flanders, where every thing connected with the Roman CathoUc wor ship is sustained in a style of stately magnifi-/ cence which plainly speaks its Spanish origin, I ara continually surprised by the coraparatively sim ple vestraents and absence of ostentatious display in the churches of Paris. At the metropolitan church 0^ Notre Dame, indeed, nothing wa^ want ing to render its archiepiscopal dignity conspicu ous ; but everywhere else, there was a great deal less of porap and circumstance than I expected. But nowhere is the relaxation of clerical dignity in the clergy of Paris so reraarkable as in the appearance of the young priests whora we occa sionally raeet in the streets. The flowing curls, the siraple round hat, the pantaloons, and in some JJiawn .i Ltched by A Her".dea. FlP KT R"E S BE I.A JEirrTE FRANCE. L.,,'i.l>.ii,PilliHsli.,,l !.v Iti.-linL.I h.'iitlt^-, liV.V. AN EXCURSION. 159 cases the boots also, give them the appearance of a race of men as unlike as possible to their stiff and primitive predecessors. Yet they all look flourishing, and well pleased with themselves and the world about them : but little of mortification or abstinence can be traced on their countenances ; and if they do fast for some portion of every week, they may certainly say with Father PhUip, that " what they take prospers with them mar vellously." We have this morning raade an excursion to the other side of the water, which always seems like setting out upon a journey ; and yet I know not why it should be so, for as the river is not very wide, the bridges are not very long ; but so it is, that for sorae reason or other, if it were not for the magnetic Abbaye-aux-Bois, we should very rarely find ourselves on the left bank of the Seine. On this occasion, our object was to visit the faraous old library of Ste. Genevieve, on the invita tion of a gentieraan who is one of the librarians. Nothing can be raore interesting than an expedi tion of this sort, with an intelUgent and obliging cicisbeo, who knows everything concerning the objects displayed before you, and is kindly willing to communicate as much of his savoir as the time may allow, or as may be necessary to make the different objects examined come forth from that 160 LIBRARY OF STE. GENEVIEVE. venerable but incomprehensible accumulation • of treasures, which form the raass of all the libraries and museums in the world, and which, be he as innocent of curiosity as an angel, every stranger is bound over to visit, under penalty, when honest ly reciting his adventures, of hearing exclamations from all the friends he left at home, of — " What ! . . . did you not see that ? . . . Then you have seen nothing !" I would certainly never expose myself to this cutting reproach, could I always secure as agree able a companion as the one who terapted us to mount to the elevated repository which contains the hundred thousand volumes of the royal library of Ste. Genevieve. Were I a student there, I should grumble prodigiously at the long and steep as cent to this teraple of all sorts of learning : but once reached, the tranquil stillness, and the per fect seclusion from the eternal hum of the great city that surrounds it, are very delightful, and raight, I think, act as a sedative upon the raost restive and truant iraagination that ever beset a student. I was sorry to hear that symptoms of decay in the timbers of the venerable roof raake it proba ble that this fine old roora must be given up, and the large collection it has so long sheltered be conveyed elsewhere. The apartment is in the forra of a cross, with a dome at the point of inter section, painted by the elder Restout. Though LIBRARY OF STE. GENEVIEVE. 161 low, and in fact occupying only the roof of the college, formerly the Abbaye of Sainte Genevifeve, there is soraething singularly graceful and pleas ing to the eye in this extensive chamber, its orna ments and general arrangement ; — something mo nastic, yet not gloomy ; with an air of learned ease, and corafortable exclusion of all annoyance, that is very enviable. The library appears to be kept up in excellent style, and in a raanner to give full effect to its liberal regulations, which permit the use of every volurae in the collection to aU the earth. The wandering scholar at distance frora his own learn ed cell, and the idle reader for mere amusement, may alike indulge their bookish propensities here, with exactly the same facilities that are accorded to the students of the college. The librarians or their deputies are ready to deliver to them any work they ask for, with the light and reasonable condition annexed that the reader shall accompany the person who is to find the volume or volumes required, and assist in conveying them to the spot which he has selected for his place of study. The long table which stretches from the centre under the doora, across the transepts of the cross, was crowded with young men when we were there, who really seemed most perfectly in earnest in their occupation — gazing on the voluraes be fore them " with earnest looks intent," even while VOL. II. M 162 dauphin's COPY-BOOK. a large party swept past them to examine a curi ous model of Rome placed at the extremity of one of the transepts. A rigorous silence, however, is enjoined in this portion of the apartraents ; so that even the ladies were obliged to postpone their questions and remarks tiU they had passed out of it. After looking at splendid editions, rare copies, and so forth, our friend led us to sorae small rooms, fitted up with cases for the especial pro tection under lock and key of the manuscripts of the coUection. Having admired the spotless vel lum of sorae, and the fair penraanship of others, a thin morocco-bound volume was put into my hands, which looked like a young lady's collection of manuscript waltzes. This was the copy-book of the Dauphin, father of the much-regretted Duke de Bourgogne, and grandfather of Louis Quinze. The characters were evidently written with great care. Each page contained a raoral axiom, and all of them raore or less especially applicable to a royal pupil. There was one of these which I thought raight be particularly useful to all such at the present day : it was entitled, in large letters — SE MOQUEUR DE LIBELLES — the superfluous u being erased by a dash of the raaster's pen. Then followed, in extremely clear and firm characters, these lines : — MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 163 Si de vos actions la satyre rejoue, Feignez adroitement de ne la pas ouir : Qui releve une injure, il semble qu'il I'avoue ; Qui la scait mepriser, la fait evanouir. .L Louis Louis Louis Louis In one of these smaller rooms hangs the por trait of a negress in the dress of a nun. It has every appearance of being a very old painting, and our friend M. C * * * * told us that a legend had been ever attached to it, importing that it was the portrait of a daughter of Mary Queen of Scots, born before she left France for Scotland. What could have originated such a very disagreeable piece of scandal, it is difficult to imagine ; but I can testify that all the internal evidence connected with it is strong against its truth, for no hu man countenance can well be conceived which would show less family likeness to our lovely and unfortunate northern queen than does that of this grim sister. From the library of Ste. Genevieve, we went under the sarae kind escort to look at the bar baric but graceful vagaries of St. Etienne du Mont. The galleries suspended as if by raagic between the pillars of the choir, and the spiral staircases leading to thera, out of all order as they are, raust nevertheless be acknowledged as among the lightest and raost fairy-like construc- M 2 164 ST. ETIENNE DU MONT. tions in the world. This singular church, capri cious in its architecture both within and with out, is in some parts of great antiquity, and was originally built as a chapel of ease to the old church of Ste. Genevieve, which stood close beside it, and of which the lofty old tower still remains, making part of the college buildings. As a proof ofthe entire dependance of this pretty little church upon its raother edifice, it was not perraitted to have any separate door of its own, the only access to it being through the great church. This sub sidiary chapel, now dignified into a parish church, has at different periods been enlarged and beau tified, and has again and again petitioned for leave from its superior to have a door of its own ; but again and again it was refused, and it was not till the beginning of the sixteenth century that this modest request was at length granted. The great Pascal lies buried in this church. I was very anxious to give my children a sight of the interior of that beautiful but versatile building called, when I first saw it, the Pan theon — when I last saw it, Ste. Genevieve, and which is now again known to all the world, or at least to that part of it which has been fortu nate enough to visit Paris since the immortal days, as the Pantheon. We could not, however, obtain an entrance to THE PANTHEON. 165 it; and it is very likely that before we shaU again find ourselves on its siraple and severe, but very graceful threshold, it will have again changed its vocation, and be restored to the use of the Christian church. — Ainsi soit-il ! 166 LETTER LVII. Little Suppers. — Great Dinners. — Affectation of Gour- mandise.— Evil effects of " dining out." — Evening Parties. — Dinners in private under the name of Luncheons. — Late Hours. How I mourn for the departed petits soupers of Paris ! . . . . and how far are her pompous dinners from being able to atone for their loss ! For those people, and I am afraid there are many of them, who really and literally live to eat, I know that the word " dinner" is the signal and symbol of earth's best, and, perhaps, only bliss. For them the steaming vapour, the tedious long array, the slow and solemn progress of a diner de quatre services, offers nothing but joy and gladness ; but what is it to those who only eat to Uve ? I know no case in which injustice and tyranny are so often practised as at the dinner-table. Perhaps twenty people sit down to dinner, of whom sixteen would give the world to eat just no more than they like and have done with it: but it is known to the Amphitryon that there GREAT DINNERS. 167 are four heavy persons present whose souls hover over his ragoiits like harpies over the feast of Phinseus, and they must not be disturbed, or re- vilings instead of adrairation will repay the out lay and the turmoil of the banquet. A tedious, dull play, followed by a long, noisy, and gunpowder-scented pantomime, upon the last scene of which your party is deterrained to see the curtain fall ; a heavy sermon of an hour long, your pew being exactly in front of the preacher ; a morning visit from a lady who sends her carriage to fetch her boys from school at Wira- bleton, and coraes to entertain you with friendly talk about her servants till it comes back; — each of these is hard to bear and difficult to escape ; but which of them can corapare in suffering to a full-blown, stiff, stately dinner of three hours long, where the talk is of food, and the only relief frora this talk is to eat it ? . . . How can you get away ? How is it possible to find or invent any device that can save you frora en during to the end? With cheeks burning from steam and vexation, can you plead a sudden faintness? StUl less can you dare to teU the real truth, and confess that you are dying of disgust and ennui. The match is so unfair be tween the different parties at such a raeeting as this — the victiras so utterly helpless ! . . . And, after all, there is no occasion for it. In London 168 PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. there are the clubs and the Clarendon ; in Paris are P6rigord's and Very's, and a score beside, any one of whom could furnish a more perfect dinner than can be found at any private mansion whatever, where sufferings are often inflicted on the wretched lookers-on very nearly approach ing to those necessary for the production of the foie gras. Think not, however, that I am inclined in the least degree to affect indifference or dislike to an elegant, well-spread table : on the contrary, I am disposed to believe that the hours when mor tals meet together, all equally disposed to enjoy themselves by refreshing the spirits, recruiting the strength, and inspiring the wit, with the cates and the cups most pleasing to the palate of each, may be reckoned, without any degradation to human pride, among the happiest hours of life. But this no more resembles the endless crammings of a repas de quatre services, than a work in four volumes on political economy to an epigram in four lines upon the author of it. In fact, to give you a valuable hint upon the subject, I am persuaded that some of the raost distinguished gourmets of the age have plunged themselves and their disciples into a most lament able error in this raatter. They have overdone the thing altogether. Their object is to excite the appetite as rauch as possible, in order to AFFECTATION OF GOURMANDISE, 169 satisfy it as largely as possible ; and this end is utterly defeated by the raeans used. But I will not dwell on this ; neither you nor I are very par ticularly interested in the success either of the French or English eaters by profession ; we will leave thera to study their own business and raa nage it as well as they can. For the raore philosophical enjoyers of the goods the gods provide I feel more interest, and I really lament the weakness which leads so many of them to follow a fashion which must be so contrary to all their ideas of real enjoy ment ; but, unhappily, it is daily becoming more necessary for every man who sits down at a fashionable table to begin talking like a cook. They surely mistake the thing altogether. This is not the most effectual way of proving the keenness of their gourmandise. In nine cases out of ten, I believe this inordi nate passion for good eating is pure affectation ; and I suspect that raany a raan, especially raany a young man, both in Paris and London, would often be glad to eat a reasonably good dinner, and then change the air, instead of sitting hour after hour, while dishes are brought to his elbow till his head aches in shaking it as a negative to the offer of them, were it not that it would be so dreadfully bourgeois to confess it. If, however, on the other hand, an incessant 170 EFFECTS OF DINING OUT. and pertinacious " diner-out" should take up the business in good earnest, and console hiraself for the long sessions he endures by really eating on from soup to ice, what a heavy penalty does he speedily pay for it ! I have lived long enough to watch more than one svelte, graceful, elegant young man, the glory of the drawing-roora, the pride of the Park, the hero of Almack's, growing every year rounder and redder ; the clear, well- opened eye becoraing dull and leaden — the bril Uant white teeth looking " not what they were, but quite the reverse," till the noble-looking, ani raated being, that one half the world was ready to love, and the other to envy, sank down into a heavy, clurasy, raiddle-aged gentieraan, before half his youth was fairly past ; and this solely for the satisfaction of continuing to eat every day for some hours after he had ceased to be hungry. It is really a pity that every one beginning this career does not set the balance of what he will gain and what he wiU lose by it fairly before him. If this were done, we should probably have rauch fewer theoretical cooks and practical cram- raers, but raany raore lively, aniraated table-cora- panions, who raight oftener be witty theraselves, and less often the cause of wit in others. The fashion for asserabling large parties, instead of selecting small ones, is on all occasions a griev ous injury to social enjoyment. It began perhaps LARGE PARTIES, 171 in vanity : fine ladies wished to show the world that they had " a dear five hundred friends" ready to come at their call. But as everybody cora plains of it as a bore, from Whitechapel to Bel- grave-square, and from the Faubourg St, Antoine to the Faubourg du Roule, vanity would now be likely enough to put a general stop to it, were it not that a most disagreeable species of economy prevents it. " A large party kills such a prodigi ous number of birds," as I once heard a friend of mine say, when pleading to her husband for per raission to overflow her dinner-table first, and then her drawing-rooras, " that it is the most extra vagant thing in the world to have a sraall one." Now this is terrible, because it is true : but, at least, those blest with wealth raight enjoy the extrerae luxury of having just as raany people about them as they liked, and no more ; and if they would but be so very obliging as to set the fashion, we aU know that it would speedily be followed in sorae mode or other by all ranks, till it would be consi dered as positively raauvais ton to have twice as raany people in your house as you have chairs for them to sit on. The pleasantest evening parties remaining in Paris, now that such deUghtful little coraraittees as Molifere brings together after the perforraance of " L'Ecole des Feraraes" can raeet no raore, are those assembled by an announceraent made 172 EVENING PARTIES. by Madame une Telle to a somewhat select circle, that she shall be at home on a certain evening in every week, fortnight, or month, throughout the season. This done, nothing farther is necessary ; and on these evenings a party moderately large drop in without ceremony, and depart without restraint. No preparation is raade beyond a few additional lights ; and the alburas and portfolios in one roora, with perhaps a harp or pianoforte in another, give aid, if aid be wanted, to the con versation going on in both. Ices, eau sucrde, syrup of fruits, and gaufres are brought round, and the party rarely remain together after mid night. This is very easy and agreeable, — incoraparably better, no doubt, than raore crowded and raore forraal asserablies. Nevertheless, I am so pro foundly rococo as to regret heartily the passing away of the petits soupers, which used to be the favourite scene of enjoyraent, and the chosen arena for the exhibition of wit, for all the beaux esprits, raale and feraale, of Paris. I was told last spring, in London, that at pre sent it was the parvenus only who had incoraes un,scathed by the storray tiraes ; and that, conse quently, it was rather elegant than otherwise to chanter mishre upon all occasions. I raore over heard a distinguished confectioner, when in conversation with a lady on the subject of a ball- PETITS SOUPERS. 173 supper, declare that " orders were so slack, that he had countermanded a set of new ornaments which he had bespoken frora Paris." Such being the case, what an excellent op portunity is the present for a little reraueraent in the style of giving entertainraents ! Poverty and the clubs render fine dinners at once dangerous, difficult, and unnecessary ; but does it follow that men and women are no raore to raeet round a banqueting table ? " Because we are virtuous, shall there be no raore cakes and ale ?" I have often drearaed, that were I a great lady, with houses and lands, and raoney at will, I would see if I could not break through the ty rannous yoke of fashion, often so confessedly galling to the patient wearers of it, and, in the place of heavy, endless dinners, which often make bankrupt the spirit and the purse, endeavour to bring into vogue that prettiest of all inventions for social enjoyraent — a real supper-table : not a long board, whereat aching lirabs and languid eyes may yawningly wait to receive from the hand of Mr. Gunter what must cost the giver more, and profit the receiver less, than any imaginable entertainment of the kind I propose, and which might be spread by an estabUshment as simply raonte as that of any gentleman in London. Then think of the luxury of sitting down at a 174 PETITS SOUPERS, table neither stearaing with ragouts, nor having dyspepsia hid under every cover ; where neither malignant gout stands by, nor servants swarra and listen to every idle word ; where you may renew the meraory of the sweet strains you have just listened to at the opera, instead of sitting upon thorns while you know that your favourite over ture is in the very act of being played ! AU should be cool and refreshing, nectarine and am brosial, — uncrowded, easy, intimate, and as witty as Englishmen and Englishwomen could con trive to make it ! Till this experiment has been fairly made and declared to fail, I will never allow that the con versational powers of the women of England have been fully proved and found wanting. The wit of Mercury might be weighed to earth by the endurance of three long, pompous courses ; and would it not require spirits lighter and brighter than those of a Peri to sustain a woman gaily through the soleran cereraonies of a fine dinner ? In truth, the whole arrangeraent appears to rae strangely defective and Ul-contrived, Let Eng lish ladies be sworn to obey the laws of fashion as faithfully as they will, they cannot live tiU eight o'clock in the evening without sorae refreshraent more substantial than the first raorning raeal. In honest truth and plain English, they all dine in the raost unequivocal raanner at two or three FASHIONABLE DREAD OF SUPPER. 175 o'clock ; nay, many of those who raeet their hungry brethren at dinner-parties have taken coffee or tea before they arrive there. Then what a distasteful, tedious farce does the fine dinner become 1 Now just utter a " Passe ! passe !" and, by a little imaginative legerdemain, turn from this needless dinner to such a petit souper as Madarae de Maintenon gave of yore. Let Fancy paint the contrast ; and let her take the gayest colours she can find, she cannot raake it too striking. You must, however, rouse your courage, and strengthen your nerves, that they may not quail before this fearful word — supper. In truth, the sort of shudder I have seen pass over the countenances of some fashionable men when it is pronounced may have been natural and unaffected enough ; for who that has been eating in despite of nature from eight to eleven can find anything appetissant in this word " supper" uttered at twelve. But if we could persuade Messieurs nos Mai tres, instead of injuring their health by the long fast which now precedes their dinner, during which they walk, talk, ride, drive, read, play billiards, yawn — nay, even sleep, to while away the time, and to accuraulate, as it were, an appetite of inordi nate dimensions ; — ^if, instead of this, they would for one season try the experiment of dining at five o'clock, and condescend afterwards to permit them- 176 ADVANTAGES OF DINING EARLY. selves to be agreeable in the drawing-room, they would find their wit sparkle brighter than the charapagne at their supper-tables, and raoreover their mirrors would pay thera the prettiest com pliments in the world before they had tried the change for a fortnight. But, alas ! all this is very idle speculation ; for I am not a great lady, and have no power whatever to turn dull dinners into gay suppers, let rae wish it as rauch as I raay. 177 LETTER LVIII. Hopital des Enfans Trouves — Its doubtful advantages — Story of a Child left there. Like diUgent sight- seers, as we are, we have been to visit the hospital for les Enfans Trouv6s. I had myself gone over every part of the establish ment several years before, but to the rest of my party it was new — and certainly there is enough of strangeness in the spectacle to repay a drive to the Rue d'Enfer. Our kind friend and physician, Dr. Mojon, who by the way is one of the most amiable men and most skilful physicians in Paris, was the person who introduced us ; and his ac quaintance withthe visiting physician, who attend ed us round the rooms, enabled us to obtain much interesting inforraation. But, alas ! it seeras as if every question asked on this subject could only elicit a painful answer. The charity itself, noble as it is in extent, and adrairable for the exceUent order which reigns throughout every department of it, is, I fear, but a very doubtful good. If it tend, as it doubtless must do, to prevent the un natural crime of infanticide, it leads directly to one VOL. II. N 178 FOUNDLING HOSPITAL. hardly less hateful in the perpetration, and perhaps more cruel in its result, — namely, that of abandon ing the creature whora nature, unless very fearfully distorted, renders dearer than Ufe. Nor is it the least raelancholy part of the speculation to know that one fourth of the innocent creatures, who are deposited at the average rate bf above twenty each day, die within the first year of their Uves. But this, after all, perhaps is no very just cause of lamen tation : one of the sisters of charity who attend at the hospital told me, in reply to an inquiry respecting the education of these iraraortal but unvalued beings, that the charity extended not its cares beyond preserving their animal Ufe and health — that no education whatever was provided for them, and that, unless some lucky and most rare accident occurred to change their destiny, they generally grew up in very nearly the same state as the aniraals bred upon the farms which received thera. Peasants corae on fixed days — two or three tiraes a week, I beUeve — to receive the children who appear likely. to Uve, as nurslings; and they convey thera into the country, sometimes to a great distance from Paris, partly for the sake of a consideration in money which they receive, but chiefly for the value of their labour. It is a singular fact, that during the years which iraraediately followed the revolution, the nuraber STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 179 of children deposited at the hospital was greatly diminished ; but, among those deposited, the pro portion of deaths was still raore greatly increased. In 1797, for instance, 3,716 children were re ceived, 3,108 of whora died. I have lately heard a story, of which a child received at this hospital is in some sort the he roine ; and as I thought it sufficiently interest ing to insert in my note-book, I am tempted to transcribe it for you. The circurastances oc curred during the period which imraediately fol lowed the first revolution ; but the events were merely domestic, and took no colour from the times. M. le Comte de G * * * * was a nobleraan of quiet and retired habits, whora delicate health had early induced to quit the service, the court, and the town. He resided wholly at a paternal cha-" teau in Normandy, where his forefathers had re sided before hira too usefully and too unosten tatiously to have suffered frora the devastating effects of the revolution. The neighbours, instead of violating their property, had protected it ; and in the year 1799, when my story begins, the count with his wife and one little daughter were as quietly inhabiting the raansion his ancestors had inhabited before him, as if it stood on English soil. It happened, during that year, that the wife of a N 2 180 STORY OF A FOUNDLING. peasant on his estate, who had twice before raade a journey to Paris, to take a nursling from among the enfans trouves, again lost a new-born baby, and again determined upon supplying its place from the hospital. It seeraed that the poor wo man was either a bad nurse or a raost unlucky one ; for not only had she lost three of her own, but her two foster-children also. Of this excursion, however, she prophesied a better result ; for the sister of charity, when she placed in her arras the baby now consigned to her care, assured her it was the loveliest and most promising child she had seen deposited during ten years of constant attendance among the enfans trouves. Nor were her hopes disappointed : the little Alexa (for such was the name pinned on her dress) was at five years old so beautiful, so attractive, so touching, with her large blue eyes and dark chesnut curls, that she was known and talked of for a league round Pont St, Jacques, M, and Madame de G * * * *, with their little girl, never passed the cottage without entering to look at and caress the lovely child, Isabeau de G * * * * was just three years older than the little foundUng ; but a most close alliance subsisted between thera. The young heiress, with all the pride of a juvenile senior, deUghted in nothing so rauch as in extending her patronage and protection to the pretty Alexa ; and the for- STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 181 saken child gave her in return the prSmices of her warm heart's fondness. No Sunday evening ever passed throughout the sumraer without seeing all the village asserabled under an enormous lime-tree, that grew upon a sort of platform in front of the priraitive old raan sion, with a pepper-box at each corner, dignified with the title of Chiteau Tourelles. The circular bench which surrounded this giant tree afforded a resting-place for the old folks ; — the young ones danced on the green before them — and the children rolled on the grass, and made garlands of butter-cups, and rosaries of daisies, to their hearts' content. On these occasions it was of custom immeraorial that M. le Comte and Madame la Comtesse, with as many offspring as they were blessed withal, should walk down the strait pebbled walk which led from the chateau to the tree exactly as the clock struck four, there to remain for thirty minutes and no longer, smiUng, nodding, and now and then gos siping a little, to all the poor bodies who chose to approach them. Of late years, MademoiseUe Isabeau had esta blished a custom which shortened the time of her personal appearance before the eyes of her future tenants to somewhat less than one-sixth of the al lotted time ; for five rainutes never elapsed after the little lady reached the tree, before she contrived 182 STORY OF A FOUNDLING. to slip her tiny hand out of her raother's, and pounce upon the little Alexa, who, on her side, had long learned to turn her beautiful eyes to wards the chateau the raoment she reached the ground, nor reraoved thera till they found Isa- beau's bright face to rest upon instead. As soon as she had got possession of her pet, the young lady, who had not perhaps altogether escaped spoiling, ran off with her, without asking leave of any, and enjoyed, either in the aristocratic retire raent of her own nursery, or her own play-roora or her own garden, the love, admiration, and do cile obedience of her Uttle favourite. But if this made a f§te for Isabeau, it was soraething dearer still to Alexa. It was during these Sabbath hours that the poor child learned to be aware that she knew a great raany more won derful things than either P^re Gautier or M^re Fran9oise. She learned to read — she learned to speak as good French as Isabeau or her Parisian governess ; she learned to love nothing so well as the books, and the pianoforte, and the pictures, and the flowers of her pretty patroness ; and, un happily, she learned also to dislike nothing so much as the dirty cottage and cross voice of Vhre Gautier, who, to say truth, did little else but scold the poor forsaken thing through every raeal of the week, and all day long on a Sunday. Things went on thus without a shadow of STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 183 turning tiU Alexa attained her tenth, and Isabeau her thirteenth year. At this time the sumraer Sunday evenings began to be often tarnished by the tears of the foundling as she opened her heart to her friend concerning the sufferings she endured at horae. Pere Gautier scolded raore than ever, and Mfere Fran9oise expected her to do the work of a woman ; — in short, every day that passed made her raore corapletely, utterly, hopelessly wretched ; and at last she threw her arms round the neck of Isabeau, and told her so, adding, in a voice choked with sobs, " that she wished that she wished . . . she could die !" They were sitting together on a sraall couch in the young heiress's play-roora when this passion ate avowal was raade. The young lady disen gaged herself frora the arms of the weeping child, and sat for a few moments in deep meditation. " Sit still in this place, Alexa," she said at length, " till I return to you ;" and having thus spoken, with an air of unusual gravity she left the roora. Alexa was so accustomed to show implicit obe dience to whatever her friend commanded, that she never thought of quitting the place where she was left, though she saw the sun set behind the hills through a window opposite to her, and then watched the bright horizontal beams fading into twilight, and twilight vanishing in darkness. It was strange, she thought, for her to be at the 184 STORY OF A FOUNDLING. chateau at night ; but Maderaoiselle Isabeau had bade her sit there, and it raust be right. Weary with watching, however, she first dropped her head upon the arra of the sofa, then drew her little feet up to it, and at last fell fast asleep. How long she lay there ray story does not tell ; but when she awoke, it was suddenly and with a violent start, for she heard the voice of Madarae de G * * * * and felt the blaze of raany lights upon her eyes. In another instant, however, they were sheltered frora the painful light in the bosora of her friend. Isabeau, her eyes sparkling with even raore than their usual brightness, her colour raised, and out of breath with haste and eagerness, pressed her fondly to her heart, and covered her curls with kisses ; then, having recovered the power of speaking, she exclairaed, " Look up, my dear Alexa! You are to be my own sister for evermore : papa and mamraa have said it. Cross P6re Gautier has consented to give you up ; and M^re Fran9oise is to have little Annette Morneau to live with her." How this had all been arranged it is needless to repeat, though the eager supplication of the daughter and the generous concessions of the parents raade a very pretty scene as I heard it described ; but I raust not make my story too long. To avoid this, I wUl now slide over six years, and bring you to a fine morning in the STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 185 year 1811, when Isabeau and Alexa, on returning frora a rarable in the viUage, found Madame de G * * * * with an open letter in her hand, and an air of unusual excitement in her raanner. " Isabeau, my dear child," she said, " your father's oldest friend, the Vicomte de C * * *, is returned frora Spain. They are come to pass a month at V ; and this letter is to beg your father and rae to bring you to thera immediately, for they were in the house when you were born, ray child, and they love you as if you were their own. Your father is gone to give orders about horses for to-raorrow. Alexa dear, what will you do without us ?" " Cannot Alexa go too, raararaa ?" said Isabeau. " Not this time, my dear : they speak of having their chateau filled with guests." " Oh, dearest Isabeau ! do not stand to talk about me ; you know I do not love strangers : let me help you to get everything ready." The party set off the next raorning, and Alexa, for the first tirae since she becarae an inhabitant of Cheiteau Tourelles, was left without Isabeau, and with no other corapanion than their stiff gover ness ; but she ralUed her courage, and awaited their return with all the philosophy she could rauster. Tirae and the hour wear through the longest fortnight, and at the end of this term the trio re- 186 STORY OF A FOUNDLING. turned again. The meeting of the two friends was alraost rapturous : Monsieur and Madame had the air of being parfaitement contents, and aU things seemed to go on as usual. Iraportant changes, however, had been decided on during this visit. The Vicorate de C. had one son. He is the hero of my story, so believe him at once to be a most charraing personage in all ways — and in fact he was so. A marriage between him and Isabeau had been proposed by his father, and cor dially agreed to by hers ; but it was decided be tween them that the young people should see soraething more of each other before this arrange ment was announced to them, for both parents felt that the character of their children deserved and deraanded rather more deference to their in clinations that was generally thought necessary in family compacts of this nature. The fortnight had passed araidst rauch gaiety : every evening brought waltzing and music ; Isa beau sang fl ravir ; but as there were three mar ried ladies at the chateau who proclaimed them selves to be unwearying waltzers, young Jules, who was constrained to do the honours of his father's house, had never found an opportunity to dance with Isabeau excepting for the last waltz, on the last evening; and then there never were seen two young people waltzing together with more awkward restraint. STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 187 Madarae de G * * * *, however, fancied that he had listened to Isabeau's songs with pleasure, and raoreover observed to Monsieur son Mari that it was irapossible he should not think her beau tiful. Madame was quite right — Jules did think her daughter beautiful : he thought, too, that her voice was that of a syren, and that it would be easy for hira to Usten to her till he forgot every thing else in the world. I would not be so abrupt had I raore room ; but as it is necessary to hasten over the ground, I must tell you at once that Isabeau, on her side, was much in the sarae situation. But as a young lady should never give her heart anywhere till she is asked, and in France not before her hus band has politely expressed his wish to be loved as he leads her to her carriage from the altar, Isabeau took especial good care that nobody should find out the indiscretion her feeUngs had committed, and having not only a raind of consi derable power, but also great confidence and sorae pride in her own strength, she felt little fear but that she should be able both to conceal and con quer a passion so every way unauthorised. Now it unfortunately happened that Jules de C. was, unlike the generality of his countrymen, extremely roraantic ; — but he had passed seven years in Spain, which raay in some degree excuse 188 STORY OF A FOUNDLING. it. His education, too, had been alraost wholly domestic : he knew little of Ufe except from books, and he had learned to dread, as the raost direful misfortune that could befaU hira, the be coming enamoured of, and perhaps raarrying, a woraan who loved him not. Soon after the departure of Isabeau and her parents, the vicomte hinted to his son that he thought politeness required a return of the visit of the de G * * * * family ; and as both hiraself and his lady were un peu incommodes by some malady, real or supposititious, he conceived that it would be right that he, Jules, should present himself at Chateau Tourelles to make their excuses. The heart of Jules gave a prodigious leap; but it was not wholly a sensation of pleasure : he felt afraid of Isabeau, — he was afraid of loving her, — he remerabered the cold and calm expression of countenance with which she received his fare well — his trembling farewell — at the door of the carriage. Yet still he accepted the comraission ; and in ten days after the return of the de G**** family, Jules de C. presented himself before thera. His reception by the corate and his lady was just what raay be iraagined, — all kindness and cor diality of welcorae. That of Isabeau was con strained and cold. She turned a little pale, but then she blushed again ; and the shy Jules saw no thing but the beauty of the blush — was conscious STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 189 only of the ceremonious curtsy, and the cold "Bonjour, Monsieur Jules." As for Alexa, her only feeling was that of extreme surprise. How could it be that Isabeau had seen a person so very graceful, handsorae and elegant, and yet never say one word to her about hira ! . . . . Isabeau raust be blind, insensible, unfeeUng, not to appre ciate better such a being as that. Such was the effect produced by the appearance of Jules on the mind of Alexa, — the beautiful, the enthusiastic, the impassioned Alexa. From that moment a most cruel game of cross purposes began to be played at Chateau Tourelles. Alexa commenced by reproaching Isabeau for her coldness, and ended by confessing that she heartily wished herself as cold. Jules ceased not to adore Isabeau, but every day strengthened his conviction that she could never love hira ; and Isabeau, while every passing hour showed raore to love in Jules, only drew frora thence more reasons for combating and conquering the flame that inwardly consumed her. There could not be a greater contrast between two girls, both good, than there was both in per son and raind between these two young friends. Isabeau was the prettiest Uttle brunette in France — et c'est beaucoup dire : Alexa was, perhaps, the loveliest blonde in the world. Isabeau, with strong feelings, had a coraraand over herself that 190 STORY OF A FOUNDLING. never failed : in a good cause, she could have perished at the stake without a groan. Alexa could feel, perhaps, almost as strongly as her friend ; but to corabat those feelings was beyond her power : she might have died to show her love, but not to conceal it ; and had some fearful doom awaited her, she would not have lived to endure it. Such being the character and position of the par ties, you will easily perceive the result. Jules soon perceived the passion with which he had inspired the young and beautiful Alexa, and his heart, wounded by the uniform reserve of Isabeau, repaid her with a warmth of gratitude, which though not love, was easily mistaken for it by both the innocent rivals. Poor Jules saw that it was, and already felt his honour engaged to ratify hopes which he had never intended to raise. Repeatedly he deterrained to leave the chateau, and never to see either of its lovely inraates more ; but whenever he hinted at such an intention, M. and Madame de G * * * * opposed it in such a manner that it seemed ira possible to persevere in it. They, good souls, were perfectly satisfied with the aspect of affairs : Isabeau was perhaps a Uttle pale, but lovelier than ever ; and the eyes of Jules were so often fixed upon her, that there could be no doubt as to his feeUngs. They were very right, — yet, alas ! they were very wrong too: but the situation of STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 191 Alexa put her so completely out of all question of marriage with a gentleman d'une haute nais sance, that they never even reraerabered that she too was constantly with Jules. About three weeks had passed in this raischief- working raanner, when Isabeau, who clearly saw traces of suffering on the handsome face of poor Jules, believing firmly that it arose frora the pro bable difficulty of obtaining his high-born father's consent to his raarriage with a foundling, deter rained to put every imaginable means in requi sition to assist him. Alexa had upon her breast a mark, evidently produced by gunpowder. Her nurse, and every body else who had seen it, declared it to be per fectly shapeless, and probably a failure from the awkwardness of sorae one who had intended to irapress a cipher there ; but Isabeau had a hun dred tiraes examined it, and as often declared it to be a coronet. Hitherto this notion had only been a source of rairth to both of thera, but now it became a theme of incessant and most anxious raeditation to Isabeau. She reraerabered to have heard that when a child is deposited at the Foundling Hospital of Paris, everything, whether clothes or token, which is left with it, is pre served and registered, with the name and the date of the reception, in order, if reclamation be made within a certain time, that aU assistance 192 STORY OF A FOUNDLING, possible shall be given for the identification. What space this " certain tirae" included Isabeau knew not, but she fancied that it could not be less than twenty years ; and with this persuasion she deterrained to set about an inquiry that raight at least lead to the knowledge either that sorae particular tokens had been left with Alexa, or that there were none. With this sort of feverish dream working in her head, Isabeau rose almost before daylight one raorning, and escaping the observation of every one, let herself out by the door of a salon which opened on the terrace, and hastened to the abode of M^re Francoise, It was some time before she could raake the old woraan understand her object ; but when she did, she declared her self ready to do all and everything Maderaoiselle desired for her " dear baby," as she persisted to call the tall, the graceful, the beautiful Alexa. As Isabeau had a good deal of trouble to raake her plans and projects clearly understood to Mhre Francoise, it Avill be better not to relate particu larly what passed between thera : suffice it to say, that by dint of much repetition and a tolerably heavy purse, Francoise at last agreed to set off for Paris on the following raorning, "without telling a living soul what for," Such were the conditions enforced ; which were the raore easUy adhered to, because cross Pfere Gautier had STORY OF A FOUNDLING, 193 grumbled hiraself into his grave sorae years before. On reaching the hospital, Fran9oise made her demand, " de la part d'une grande dame," for any token which they possessed relative to a baby taken , . . &c, &;c, &c. The first answer she re ceived was, that the time of liraitation for such inquiries had long expired; and she was on the point of leaving the bureau, all hope of intelli gence abandoned, when an old sister of charity who chanced to be there for some message from the superior, and who had listened to her in quiries arid all the particulars thus rehearsed, stopped her by saying, that it was odd enough two great ladies should send to the hospital with inquiries for the same chUd, " But, however," she added, " it can't rauch matter now to either of them, for the baby died before it was a twelve month old," " Died !" screamed Fran9oise : " why, I saw her but four days ago, and a raore beautiful creature the sun never shone upon," An explanation ensued, not very clear in all its parts, for there had evidently been some blunder ; but it plainly appeared, that within a year after the chUd was sent to nurse, in quiries had been made at the hospital for a baby bearing the singular name of Alexa, and, stating that various articles were left with her VOL, II, o 194 STORY OF A FOUNDLING. expressly to ensure the power of recognition. An address to a peasant in the country had been given to the persons who had made these in quiries, and application was iraraediately made to her : but she stated that the baby she had received frora the hospital at the time naraed had died three months after she took it ; but what name she had received with it she could not remember, as she caUed it Marie, afiter the baby she had lost. It was evident from this stateraent that a raistake had been made be tween the two women, who had each taken a feraale foundling into the country on the sarae day. It was raore easy, however, to hit the blunder than to repair it. Coramunication was imme diately held with sorae of the chefs of the esta bUshment ; who having put in action every ima ginable contrivance to discover any traces which raight reraain of the persons who had before inquired for the babe named Alexa, at length got hold of a raan who had often acted as cora- missionnaire to the establishment, and who said he remembered about that time to have taken letters from the hospital to a fine hotel near the Elys^e Bourbon. This raan was iraraediately conveyed to the Elys6e Bourbon,, and without hesitation pointed out the mansion to which he had been sent. STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 195 Tt was inhabited by an English gentleman bless ed with a family of twelve children, and who assured the gentleman entrusted with the in quiry that he had not only never deposited any of his children at the Enfans Trouv6s, but that he could not give them the sUghtest assistance in discovering whether any of his predecessors in that raansion had done so. Discouraged, but not chilled in the ardour of his pursuit, the worthy gentieraan proceeded to the proprietor of the hotel : he had recently purchased it ; frora him he repaired to the person from whora he had bought it. He was only an agent ; but at last, by raeans of indefatigable exertion during three days, he discovered that the individual who must have inhabited the hotel when these messages were stated to have been sent thither frora the Enfans Trouv6s was a Russian nobleman of high rank, who, it was believed, was now residing at St, Petersburg, His name and title, however, were both reraerabered ; and these, with a docu raent stating all that was known of the trans action, were delivered to Mhre Frangoise, who, hardly knowing if she had succeeded or failed in her raission, returned to her young employer within ten days of the time she left her, Isabeau, generously as her noble heart beat at learning what she could not but consider as a favourable report of her erabassy, did feel o 2 196 STORY OF A FOUNDLING, nevertheless something like a pang when she remembered to what this success would lead. But she mastered it, and, with all the energy of her character, instantly set to work to pursue her enterprise to the end. It was certainly a relief to her when Jules, after passing a raonth of utter raisery in the society of the woraan he adored, took his leave. The old people were still perfectly satisfied : it was not the young man's business, they said, to break through the reserve which his parents had enjoined, and a few days would doubtless bring letters frora thera w^hich would finally settle the business, Alexa saw hira depart with an aching heart ; but she beUeved that he was returning horae only to ask his father's consent to their union, Isabeau fed her hopes, for she too believed that the young raan's heart was given to Alexa. During this time Isabeau concealed her hope of discovering the parents of the foundling frora all. Day after day wore away, and brought no tidings frora Jules. The hope of Alexa gave way before this cruel silence. The circurastances of her birth, which rankled at her heart raore deeply than even her friend iraagined, now carae before her in a more dreadful shape than ever. Sin, sharae, and misery seemed to her the only dot she had to bring in raarriage, and her raind brooded over this terrible idea till it overpowered every other ; -STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 197 her love seeraed to sink before it, and, after a sleepless night of wretched raeditation, she deter mined never to bring disgrace upon a husband — she heroically deterrained never to marry. As she was opening her heart on this sad sub ject to Isabeau, and repeating to her with great solemnity the resolution she had taken, a courier covered with dust galloped up to the door of the chateau. Isabeau instantly suspected the truth, but could only say as she kissed the fair fore head of the foundling, " Look up, my Alexa ! . . . You shall be happy at least." Before any explanation of these words could even be asked for, a splendid travelling equipage stopped at the door, and, according to the rule in all such cases, a beautiful lady descended from it, handed out by a gentleman of princely rank : in brief, for I cannot tell you one half his titles and honours, or one quarter of the circumstances which had led to the leaving their only child at the H6pital des Enfans Trouv6s, Alexa was proved to be the sole and raost lawful idol and heiress of this noble pair. The wonder and joy, and all that, you raust guess : but poor Isabeau ! . . . O ! that all this happiness could but have faUen upon them before she had seen Jules de C ! On the foUowing raorning, while Alexa, seated between her parents, was telling them aU she owed to Isabeau, the door of the apartment open- 198 STORY OF A FOUNDLING. ed and the young Jules entered. This was the moment at which the happy girl felt the value of all she had gained with the most full and perfect consciousness of felicity. Her bitter hu miliation was changed to triumph ; but Jules saw it not — he heard not the pompous titles of her father as she proudly rehearsed them, but, in a voice choking with emotion, he stararaered out — " Oii done est Isabeau ?" Alexa was too happy, too gloriously happy, to heed his want of politeness, but gaily exclaira- ing, " Pardon, maman !" she left the roora to seek for her friend. Jules was indeed corae on no trifling errand. His father, having waited in vain for sorae ex pression of his feeUngs respecting the charming bride he intended for hira, at last inforraed hira of his engageraent, for the purpose of discovering whether the young raan were actually made of ice or no. On this point he was speedily satisfied ; for the intelUgence robbed the timid lover of all control over his feelings, and the father had the great pleasure of perceiving that his son was as distractedly in love as he could possibly desire. As to his doubts and his fears, the experienced vicomte laughed them to scorn. " Only let her see you as you look now, Jules," said the proud father, " and she will not disobey her parents, I STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 199 will answer for it. Go to her, my son, and set your heart at ease at once." With a courage almost as desperate as that which leads a man firra and erect to the scaffold, Jules deterrained to follow this advice, and ar rived at Chateau Tourelles without having once thought of poor Alexa and her tell-tale eyes by the way ;-— nay, even when he saw her before hira, his only sensation was that of impatient agony that the moraent which was to decide upon his destiny was still delayed. As Alexa opened the door to seek her friend, she appeared, and they returned together. At the unexpected sight of Jules, Isabeau lost her self- possession, and sank nearly fainting on a chair. In an instant he was at her feet. " Isabeau !" he exclairaed, in a voice at once soleran and ira- passioned — " Isabeau ! I adore you — speak my fate in one word ! — Isabeau ! can you love me ?" The noble strangers had already left the room. They perceived that there was some knotty point to be explained upon which their presence could throw no light. They would have led their daughter with them, but she lingered. "One moraent . . , . and I will follow you," she said. Then turning to her alraost fainting friend, she exclairaed, " You love hira, Isabeau ! — and it is I who have divided you !",,.. She seized a hand 200 STORY OF A FOUNDLING. of each, and joining thera together, bent her head upon thera and kissed them both. " God for ever bless you, perfect friend ! .... I am still too happy ! . . . . BeUeve me, Jules, — ^believe me, Isa beau, — I ara happy — oh ! too happy !" The arras that were thrown round thera both, relaxed as she uttered these words, and she fell to the ground. Alexa never spoke again. She breathed faintly for a few hours, and then expired, — the victim of intense feelings, too long and too severely tried. ^ * ^ » * * This story, almost verbally as I have repeated it to you, was told rae by a lady who assured me that she knew all the leading facts to be true ; though she confessed that she was obliged to pass rather slightly over some of the details, from not remembering thera perfectly. If the catastrophe be indeed true, I think it raay be doubted whe ther the poor Alexa died frora sorrow or from joy- 201 LETTER LIX. Proces Monstre — Dislike of the Prisoners to the ceremony of Trial. — Societe des Droits de I'Homme — Names given to the Sections. — Kitchen and Nursery Literature. — Anecdote of Lagrange. — Republican Law. It is a long tirae since I have permitted a word to escape rae about the trial of trials ; but do not therefore imagine that we are as free from it and its daily echo as I have kindly suffered you to be. It really appears to rae, after all, that this raon ster trial is only raonstrous because the prisoners do not like to be tried. There may perhaps have been some few legal incongruities in the manner of proceeding, arising very naturaUy frora the difficulty of ascertaining exactly what the law is, in a country so often subjected to revolution as this has been. I own I have not yet raade out completely to my own satisfaction, whether these gentry were accused in the first instance of high treason, or whether the whole proceedings rest upon an indictraent for a breach of the peace. 202 SOCIETE DES DROITS DE L'HOMME. It is however clear enough. Heaven knows, both from evidence and frora their own avowals, that if they were not arraigned for high treason, raany of thera were unquestionably guilty of it ; and as they have all repeatedly proclairaed that it was their wish to stand or fall together, I confess that I see nothing very monstrous in treating them all as traitors. It is only within these few last hours that I have been made to understand what object these siraultaneous risings in April 1834 had in view. The docuraent which has been now put into ray hands appeared, I believe, in all the papers ; but it was to rae, at least, one of the thousand things that the eye glances over without taking the trouble of communicating to the mind what it finds. I wiU not take it for granted, however, that you are as ignorant or unobservant as myself, and therefore I shall not recite to you the evi dence I have been just reading to prove that the union calUng itself " La Soci6t6 des Droits de I'Homme" was in fact the mainspring of the whole enterprise ; but in case the expressive titles given by the central committee of this association to its different sections should have escaped you, I will transcribe them here, — or rather a part of thera, for they are numerous enough to exhaust your patience, and mine too, were I to give them aU. Among them, I find as pet and endearing THE POLITICAL TRIALS. 203 names for their separate bands of employes the following: Section Marat, Section Robespierre, Section Quatre-vingt-treize, Section des Jacobins; Section de Guerre aux Chateaux — Abolition de la Propriete — Mort aux Tyrans— Des Piques — Ca non d'Alarrae — Tocsin — Barricade St. M6n, — and one which when it was given was only prophetic — Section de I'lnsurrection de Lyon. These speak pretty plainly what sort of reform these raen were preparing for France ; and the trying those belonging to thera who were taken with arms in their hands in open rebellion against the existing government, as traitors, cannot very justly, I think, be stigmatised as an act of tyranny, or in any other sense as a monstrous act. The raost raonstrous part of the business is their conceiving (as the most conspicuous among thera declare they do) tha,t their refusing to plead, or, as they are pleased to call it, " refusing to take any part in the proceedings," was, or ought to be, reason sufficient for immediately stopping all such proceedings against them. These persons have been caught, with arms in their hands, in the very fact of enticing their fellow-citizens into overt acts of rebeUion ; but because they do not choose to answer when they are called upon, the court ordained to try thera are stigmatised as monsters and assassins for not dismissing them untried ! If this is to succeed, we shall find the fashion 204 LESSON TO REVOLUTIONISTS. obtain vogue amongst us, more rapidly than any of Madame Leroy's. Where is the murderer arraigned for his Ufe who would not choose to make essay of so easy a method of escaping from the necessity of answering for his crirae ? The trick is weU imagined, and the degree of grave attention with which its availabiUty is canvassed — out of doors at least — furnishes an exceUent specimen of the confusion of inteUect likely to ensue from confusion of laws amidst a population greatly given to the study of politics. Never was there a finer opportunity for revolu tion and anarchy to take a lesson than the present. It is, I think, impossible for a raere looker-on, un biassed by party or personal feelings of any kind, to deny that the governraent of Louis-Philippe is acting at this trying/ juncture with consumraate courage, wisdom, and justice : but it is equally impossible not to perceive what revolution and revolt have done towards turning lawful power into tyranny. This is and ever must be inevita ble wherever there is a hope existing that the governraent which follows the convulsion shall be perraanent. Fresh convulsions may arise — renewed tumult, destruction of property and risk of life may ensue; but at last it must happen that some strong hand shall seize the helm, and keep the reeling vessel to her stays, without heeding whether the grasp FITNESS OF LOUIS-PHILIPPE. 205 lie has got of her be taken in conforraity to received tactics or not. Hardly a day passes that I do not hear of some proof of increased vigour on the part of the present government of France ; and though I, for one, am certainly very far from approving the public acts which have given the present dynasty its power, I cannot but admire the strength and abiUty with which it is sustained. The example, however, can avail but little to the legitimate monarchs who still occupy the thrones their forefathers occupied before them. No legitiraate sovereign, possessing no power be yond what long-established law and precedent have given him, could dare show equal boldness. A king chosen in a rebeUion is alone capable of governing rebels : and happy is it for the hot headed jeunes gens of France that they have chanced to hit upon a prince who is neither a par venu nor a mere soldier ! The first would have had no lingering kindness at all for the still-remera- bered glories of the land ; and the last, instead of trying them by the Chamber of Peers, would have had them up by fifties to a drum-head court martial, and probably have ordered the most troublesorae ainong thera to be picked off by their comrades, as an exercise at sharp-shooting, and as a useful example of military promptitude and decision. 206 FORCE OF EXPEDIENCY. The present governraent has indeed many things in its favour. The absence of every species of weakness and pusiUanimity in the advisers of the crown is one ; and the outrageous conduct of its enemies is another. It is easy to perceive in the journals, and indeed in all the periodical pubUcations which have been hitherto considered as belonging to the opposition, a gradual giving way before the overvvhelming force of expediency. Conciliatory words come dropping in to the steady centre from c&te droit and frora c&t^ gauche ; and the louder the fac tious rebels roar around thera, the firraer does the phalanx in which rests all the real strength of the country knit itself together. The people of France are fully awakened to the feeling which Sheridan so strongly expresses when he says, that "the altar of liberty has been be- griraed at once with blood and raire," and they are disposed to look towards other altars for their protection. All the world are sick of politics in England ; and all the world are sick of politics in France. It is the sarae in Spain, the sarae in Italy, the sarae in Germany, the same in Russia. The quiet and peace ably-disposed are wearied, worried, tormented, and almost stunned, by the ceaseless jarring produced by the confusion into which bad men have con trived to throw all the eleraents of social life. NURSERY LITERATURE. 207 Chaos seems come again — a moral chaos, far worse for the poor animal called man than any that a comet's tail could lash the earth into. I assure you I often feel the most unfeigned longing to be out of reach of every sight and sound which raust perforce raix up questions of government with all my womanly meditations on lesser things ; but the necessity de parler politique seeras like an evil spirit that follows whithersoever you go. I often think, that araong all the revolutions and ruraours of revolutions which have troubled the earth, there is not one so reraarkable as that produced on conversation within the last thirty years. I speak not, however, only of that ira portant branch of it — " the polite conversation of sensible woraen," but of all the talk from gar ret to ceUar throughout the world. Go where you will, it is the sarae ; every living soul seems persuaded that it is his or her particular business to assist in arranging the political condition of Europe, A friend of mine entered her nursery not long ago, and spied among her baby-linen a number of the Westrainster Quarterly Review. " What is this, Betty ?" said she. " It is only a book, raa'ara, that John lent rae to read," answered the raaid, " Upon ray word, Betty," replied her mistress, " I think you would be much better employed in 208 ANECDOTE CONNECTED WITH nursing the child than in reading books which you cannot understand," " It does not hinder rae from nursing the chUd at all," rejoined the enlightened young woman, " for I read as the baby Ues in my lap ; and as for understanding it, I don't fear about that, for John says it is no raore than what it is the duty of everybody to understand," So political we are, and political we must be — for John says so. Wherefore I will tell you a little anecdote apro pos of the Proems Monstre. An English friend of mine was in the Court of Peers the other day, when the prisoner Lagrange becarae so noisy and troublesorae that it was found necessary to re raove hira. He had begun to utter in a loud voice, which was evidently intended to over power the proceedings of the court, a pompous and inflammatory harangue, accorapanied with rauch veheraent action. His fellow-prisoners listened, and gazed at hira with the most unequivocal marks of wondering adrairation, while the court vainly endeavoured to procure order and silence. " Reraove the prisoner Lagrange !" was at last spoken by the president — and the guards proceed ed to obey. The orator struggled violently, con tinuing, however, all the time to pour forth his rhapsody, " Yes !" he cried, — " yes, my countrymen ! we THE PROCjfcs MONSTRE, 209 are here as a sacrifice. Behold our bosoras, ty rants 1 . . . . plunge your assassin daggers in our breasts ! we are your victims .... ay, doora us all to death, we are ready— five hundred French bosoms are ready to . . . ." Here he came to a dead stop : his struggles, too, suddenly ceased .... He had dropped his cap, — the cap which not only perforraed the ho nourable office of sheltering the exterior of his patriotic head, but of bearing within its crown the written product of that head's inspired elo quence ! It was in vain that he eagerly looked for it beneath the feet of his guards ; the cap had been already kicked by the crowd far beyond his reach, and the bereaved orator permitted hiraself to be led away as quiet as a larab. The gentieraan who related this circurastance to rae added, that he looked into several papers the following day, expecting to see it raentioned ; but he could not find it, and expressed his sur prise to a friend who had accorapanied hira into court, and who had also seen and enjoyed the jest, that so laughable a circurastance had not been noticed, " That would not do at all, I assure you," re plied his friend, who w^as a Frenehraan, and un derstood the politics of the free press perfectly ; " there is hardly one of thera who would not be VOL, II. P 210 LAW APPLICABLE TO afraid of raaking a joke of anything respecting ks prSvenus d' Avril." Before I take ray final leave of these precious pr^venus, I raust give you an extract frora a curious volurae lent rae by ray kind friend M, J * * * * *, containing a table of the law reports inserted in the Bulletin of the Laws of the Re public, I have found araong thera ordinances raore tyrannical than ever despot passed for the purpose of depriving of all civil rights his fellow men ; but the one I am about to give you is cer tainly peculiarly applicable to the question of allowing prisoners to choose their counsel frora among persons not belonging to the bar, — a ques tion which has been setting all the hot heads of Paris in a flame. " Loi concernant le Tribunal RSvolutionnaire du 22 Prairial, Van deuxihme de la Republique Francaise une et indivisible. " La loi donne pour defenseurs aux patriotes calorani^s, (the word * accused' was too harsh to use in the case of these bloody patriots,) — La loi donne pour defenseurs aux patriotes calorani^s, des jur^s patriotes. Elle n'en accorde point aux conspirateurs." What would the Liberals of Europe have said of King Louis-Philippe, had he acted upon this PRISONERS' CHOICE OF COUNSEL. 211 republican principle ? If he had, he might per haps have said fairly enough — " Caesar does never wrong but with just cause," for they have chosen to take their defence into their own hands ; but how the pure patriots of I'an deuxifeme would explain the principle on which they acted, it would require a repubUcan to tell. V 2 212 LETTER LX. Memoirs of M. de Chateaubriand. — The Readings at L'Ab- baye-aux-Bois — Account of these in the French News papers and Reviews. — Morning at the Abbaye to hear a portion of these Memoirs. — The Visit to Prague. In several visits which we have lately made to the ever-delightful Abbaye-aux-Bois, the question has been started, as to the possibility or irapossi biUty of ray being permitted to be present there " aux lectures des Memoires de M. de Chateau briand." The apartment of ray agreeable friend and countryworaan. Miss Clarke, also in this same charming Abbaye, was the scene of more than one of these anxious consultations. Against ray wishes — for I really was hardly presumptuous enough to have hopes — was the fact that these lectures, so closely private, yet so pubUcly talked of and envied, were for the present over — nay, even that the gentleman who had been the reader was not in Paris. But what cannot zealous kind ness effect? Madame Rdcarnier took ray cause in hand, and ... in a word, a day was appointed CHATEAUBRIAND'S MEMOIRS. 218 for rae and ray daughters to enjoy this greatly-de sired indulgence. Before telling you the result of this appoint ment, I must give you some particulars respect ing these Memoirs, not so much apropos of myself and ray flattering introduction to them, as from being more interesting in the way of Paris literary inteUigence than anything I have met with. The existence of these Memoirs is of course well known in England ; but the circurastance of their having been read chez Madame Recamier, to a very select nuraber of the noble author's friends, is perhaps not so — at least, not generally ; and the extraordinary degree of sensation which this produced in the literary world of Paris was what I ara quite sure you can have no idea of. This is the more remarkable frora the weU-known poUtics of M. de Chateaubriand not being those of the day. The circurastances connected with the reading of these Memoirs, and the effect produced on the public by the peep got at them through those who were present, have been brought toge ther into a very interesting volume, containing articles frora raost of the Uterary periodicals of France, each one giving to its readers the best ac count it had been able to obtain of these " lec tures de I'Abbaye," Araong the articles thus brought together, are morceaux frora the pens of every political party in France ; but there is not 214 CHATEAUBRIAND'S MEMOIRS, one of them that does not render cordial— I raight say, fervent homage to the high reputation, both literary and political, of the Vicomte de Chateau briand, There is a general preface to this volume, frora the pen of M. Nisard, fuU of enthusiasra for the subject, and giving an aniraated and aniraating account of all the circurastances attending the readings, and of the different pubUcations respect ing them which followed. It appears that the raost earnest entreaties have been very getierally addressed to M. de Chateaubriand to induce him to pubUsh these Meraoirs during his lifetirae, but hitherto without effect. There is soraething in his reasonings on the subject equall)"^ touching and true : neverthe less, it is irapossible not to laraent that one can not wish for a work so every way full of interest, without wishing at the sarae tirae that one of the raost araiable men in the world should be removed out of it. All those who are adraitted to his cir cle must, I am very sure, most heartily wish never to see any more of his Memoirs than what he may be pleased hiraself to show them: but he has found out a way to make the world at large look for his death as for a most agreeable event. Not withstanding all his reasonings, I think he is wrong. Those who have seen the whole, or near ly the whole of this work, declare it to be both CHATEAUBRIAND'S MEMOIRS. 215 the most iraportant and the most able that he has composed ; and embracing as it does the most interesting epoch ofthe world's history, and coming fromthe hand of one who has played so varied and distinguished a part in it, we can hardly doubt that it is so. Of aU the different articles which corapose the volurae entitled " Lectures des Mdraoires de M. de Chateaubriand," the raost interesting perhaps (always excepting sorae fragments from the Me moirs theraselves) are the preface of M. Nisard, and an extract from the Revue du Midi, from the pen of M. de Lavergne. I must indulge you with sorae short extracts frora both. M. Nisard says — " Depuis de longues ann^s, M. de Chateau briand travaille a ses Meraoires, avec le dessein de ne les laisser publier qu'aprfes sa mort. Au plus fort des affaires, quand il etait ministre, am- bassadeur, il oubliait les petites et les grandes tracasseries en 6crivant quelques pages de ce livre de predilection." ....*' C'est le livre que M. de Chateaubriand aura le plus aira6, et, chose Strange I c'est le Uvre en qui M. de Chateaubriand ne veut pas ^tre glorifi6 de son vivant," He then goes on to speak of the raanner in which the readings coraraenced , . . . and then says, — " Cette lecture fut un triomphe ; ceux qui avaient 6t^ de la f&te nous la racontferent, k nous qui n'en itions pas, et qui d^plorions que le salpij 216 CHATEAUBRIAND'S MEMOIRS, de Madame Recamier, cette femme qui s'est fait une glorie de bont^ et de grace, ne fut pas grand comm.e la plaine de Sunium, La presse litt6raire alia demander a I'illustre ecrivain quelques lignes, qu'elle encadra dans de chaudes apologies : il y eut un moraent oil toute la littcrature ne fut que I'an- nonce et la bonne nouveUe d'un ouvrage in6dit," M, Nisard, as he says,'" n'dtait pas de la ftte ;" but he was adraitted to a privilege perhaps more desirable still — naraely, that of reading sorae por tion of this precious MS, in the deep repose of the author's own study. He gives a very ani mated picture of this visit. " , . . . J'osai demander k M. de Chateaubriand la grace de me recevoir quelques heures chez lui, et l^, pendant qu'il Ccrirait ou dicterait, de m'a- bandonner son porte-feuille et de me laisser m'y plonger a discretion . . . il y consentit. Au jour fixe, j'allai Rue d'Enfer : le coeur me battait ; je suis encore assez jeune pour sentir des raouveraens intCrieurs k I'approche d'une telle joie. M. de Chdteaubriand fit deraander son raanuscrit. II y en a trois grands porte-feuilles : ceux-ld, nul ne les lui disputera ; ni les revolutions, ni les caprices de roi, ne les lui peuvent donner ni reprendre. " II eut la bonte de rae lire les soraraaires des chapitres — Lequel choisir, lequel prCfCrer? .... je ne I'arretais pas dans la lecture, je ne disais rien . . . enfin U en vint au voyage k Prague. Une CHATEAUBRIAND'S MEMOIRS. 217 grosse et sotte interjection me trahit ; du fruit d6fendu c'etait la partie la plus defendue. Je de- raandai done le voyage k Prague. M. de Cha teaubriand sourit, et rae tendait le raanuscrit. . . . . Je raets quelque vanit6 a rappeler ces dCtaUs, bien que je tienne k ce qu'on sache bien que j'ai 6t6 encore plus heureux que vain d'une telle fa veur ; raais c'est peut-^tre le raeiUeur prix que j'ai rciju encore de quelques habitudes de dignitC lit teraire, et a ce titre il doit ra'^tre pardonn6 de m'en enorgueillir. " Quand j'eus le precieux raanuscrit, je m'accou- dai sur la table, et me mis k la lecture avec une avidite recueillie .... Quelquefois, a la fin des cha pitres, regardant par-dessus mes feuilles Tillustre ecrivain applique k son rainutieux travail de revi sion, effa9ant, puis, aprfes quelque incertitude, ecri- vant avec lenteur une phrase en surcharge, et I'ef- fa9ant k moiti6 ecrite, je voyais I'imagination et le sens aux prises. " Quand, aprfes mes deux heures de deiices, amusC, instruit, intCresse, transporte, ayant passC du rire aux larraes, et des larmes au rire, ayant vu tour k tour, dans sa plus grande naivete de sentimens, le po^te, le diploraate, le voyageur, le peierin, le philosophe, je me suis jet^ sur la raain de M. de Chateaubriand, et lui ai bre- douilie quelques paroles de gratitude tendre et profonde : ni lui ni moi n'^tions genes, je vous jure ; — moi, parce que je donnais cours a un senti- 218 CHATEAUBRIAND'S MEMOIRS. ment vrai ; lui, parce qu'^ ce moraent-1^ il vou- lait bien raesurer la valeur de mes louanges sur leur sincei'ite." This is, I think, very well conte ; and as I have myself been de la fete, and heard read precise ly this same admirable morceau, le Voyage h Prague, I can venture to say that the feeling ex pressed is in no degree exaggerated. " Que puis-je dire maintenant de ces Me moires ?" . . . he continues. " Sur le voyage k Prague ma plume est genCe ; je ne me crois pas le droit de trahir le secret de M. de Chateaubriand — mais qui est-ce qui I'ayant suivi dans tous les actes de sa glorieuse vie, ne devine pas d'avance, sauf les details secrets, et les raUles beautes de redaction, quelle peut etre la pensCe de cette partie des Memoires ! Qui ne salt k merveille qu'on y trouvera la verite pour tout le monde, douce pour ceux qui ont beaucoup perdu et beaucoup souf- fert, dure pour les raediocrites iraportantes, qui se disputent les ministferes et les ambassades au- pr^s d'une royaut6 qui ne peut plus m^rae donner de croix d'honneur ? Qui est-ce qui ne s'attend k des laraentations subliraes sur des infortunes inouies, k des attendrisseraens de coeur sur toutes les rais^res de I'exil ; sur le d6labreraent des pa lais ou gitent les royaut6s dechues ; sur ces longs corridors 6claires par un quinquet k chaque bout, corame un corps de garde, ou un cloitre ; sur ces CHATEAUBRIAND'S MEMOIRS. 219 saUes des gardes sans gardes ; sur ces antichambres sans sieges pour s'asseoir ; sur ces serviteurs rares, dont un seul fait I'^tiquette qui autrefois en occu- pait dix ; sur les malheurs toujours plus grands que les raalheureux, qu'on plaint de loin pour ceux qui les souffrent, et de pr^s pour soi-ra6me? . . . . Et puis aprfes la politique vient la poCsie ; apres les le9ons s^vferes, les descriptions riantes, les observations de voyage, fines, piquantes, corarae si le voyageur n'avait pas caus6 la veille avec un vieux roi d'un royaurae perdu. . . ." I have given you this passage because it de scribes better than I could do myself the admirable narrative which I had the pleasure of hearing. M. Nisard says much raore about it, and with equal truth ; but I will only add his concluding words-— " Voil^ le voyage k Prague , . . J'y ai ete rerauC au plus profond et au raeiUeur de raon coeur par les choses touchantes, et j'ai pleurC sur la legitimitfe tombee, quoique n'ayant jamais compris cet ordre d'idees, et y 6tant rest6, toute ma jeunesse, non- seuleraent Stranger, raais hostile." I have transcribed this last observation for the purpose of proving to you that the admiration inspired by this work of M. de Chateaubriand's is not the result of party feeling, but in coraplete defiance of it. In the "Revue de Paris" for March 1834 is an extreraely interesting article from M. Janin, 220 CHATEAUBRIAND'S MEMOIRS. who was present, I presurae, at the readings, and who must have been perraitted, I think, now and then to peep over the shoulder of the reader, with a pencU in his hand, for he gives raany short but briUiant passages frora different parts of the work. This gentleraen states, upon what authority he does not say, that EngUsh speculators have already purchased the work at the enorraous price of 25,000 francs for each volurae. It already con sists of twelve voluraes, which makes the purchase amount to £12,000 sterling, — a very large sura, even if the acquisition could be raade iraraediately available ; but as we raust hope that raany years may elapse before it becomes so, it appears hardly credible that this statement should be correct. Whenever these Meraoirs are published, how ever, there can be no doubt of the eagerness with which they will be read. M. Janin reraarks, that " M. de Chateaubriand, en ne croyant Ecrire que ses raemoires, aura 6crit en effet I'histoire de son sifecle ;" and adds, " D'ou l'on peut prCdire, que si jamais une Cpoque n'a ete plus inabordable pour un historien, jamais aussi une Cpoque n'aura eu une histoire plus complete et plus admirableraent ecrite que la notre. Songez done, que pendant que M. de Chateaubriand fait ses memoires, M. de Talleyrand 6cnt aussi ses raemoires. M. de Chateaubriand etM.de Talleyrand attel6s l'un et l'autre a la merae epoque ! — l'un qui en repre- CHATEAUBRIAND AND TALLEYRAND. 221 sente le sens poetique et royaliste, l'autre qui en est I'expression politique et utilitaire : l'un rh6ritier de Bossuet, le conservateur du principe religieux; l'autre I'heritier de Voltaire, et qui ne s'est jamais prostern6 que devant le doute, cette grande certitude de I'histoire : l'un enthou- siaste, l'autre ironique; l'un Eloquent partout, l'autre Eloquent dans son fauteuil, au coin de son feu : l'un horarae de g^nie, et qui le prouve ; l'autre qui a bien voulu laisser croire qu'il etait un homme d'esprit : celui-ci plein de I'amour de I'humanite, celui-lk raoins 6goi'ste qu'on ne le croit ; celui-ci bon, celui-l4 raoins ra^chant qu'il ne veut le parattre : celui-ci allant par sauts et par bonds, impetueux comme un tonnerre, ou comme une phrase de I'Ecriture ; celui-1^ qui boite, et qiii arrive toujours le preraier : celui-ci qui se montre toujours quand l'autre se cache, qui parle quand l'autre se tait ; l'autre qui arrive toujours quand il faut arriver, qu'on ne voit gu^re, qu'on n'entend gu^re, qui est partout, qui voit tout, qui salt presque tout : l'un qui a des partisans, des enthousiastes, des admirateurs ; l'autre qui n'a que des flatteurs, des parens, et des valets : l'un airae, ador6, chante ; l'autre k peine redout^ : l'un toujours jeune, l'autre toujours vieux ; l'un toujours battu, l'autre toujours vainqueur ; l'un victirae des causes perdues, l'autre heros des causes gagnees ; l'un qui raourra on ne salt oii, l'autre qui mourra 222 CHATEAUBRIAND AND TALLEYRAND. prince, et dans sa maison, avec un archevSque k son chevet ; l'un grand ecrivain k coup sAr, l'autre qui est un grand Ecrivain sans qu'on s'en doute ; l'un qui a 6crit ses raemoires pour les Ure k ses amis, l'autre qui a 6crit ses meraoires pour les cacher k ses amis ; l'un qui ne les publie pas par caprice, l'autre qui ne les publie pas, parce qu'ils ne seront terminus que huit jours apr^s sa raort; l'un qui a vu de haut et de loin, l'autre qui a vu d'en bas et de pr^s : l'un qui a 6t6 le preraier gen tUhomme de I'histoire contemporaine, qui I'a vue en habit et toute par6e ; l'autre qui en a 6te le valet de chambre, et qui en salt toutes les plaies each Ces ; — I'lm qu'on appelle Chiteaubriand, l'autre qu'on appelle le Prince de Ben6vent. Tels sont les deux hommes que le dix-neuvi^me sieele designe ^ I'avance corarae ses deux juges les plus redput- ables, corarae ses deux appr^ciateurs les plus dan- gereux, comrae les deux historiens opposes, sur lesquels la post6rit6 le jugera." This paraUel, though rather long perhaps, is very clever, and, k ce qu'on dit, very just. Though my extracts frora this very interesting but not widely-circulated volurae have already run to a greater length than I intended, I cannot close it without giving you a sraaU portion of M. de Lavergne's aniraated recital of the scene at the old Abbaye-aux-Bois ; — an Abbaye, by the way, stiU partly inhabited by a society of nuns, and THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 223 whose garden is sacred to thera alone, though a portion of the large building which overlooks it is the property of Madarae Recaraier. "A une des extrCraitCs de Paris on trouve un raonuraent d'une architecture simple et severe. La cour d'entrCe est ferraCe par une grille, et sur cette grille s'eifeve une croix. La paix monastique rfegne dans les cours, dans les escaliers, dans les corridors ; mais sous les saintes voutes de ce lieu se cachent aussi d'eiCgans reduits qui s'ouvrent par intervalle aux bruits du monde. Cette habitation se nomrae I'Abbaye-aux-Bois, — nom pittoresque d'oxi s'exhale je ne sais quel parfum d'orabre et de raystfere, comme si le convent et la for^t y con- fondaient leurs paisibles harmonies. Or, dans un des angles de cet edifice il y a un salon que je veux decrire, moi aussi, car il reparatt bien sou- vant dans mes r^ves. Vous connaissez le tableau de Corinne de GCrard : Corinne est assise au Cap Misifene, sur un rocher, sa belle t^te lev6e vers le ciel, son beau bras tombant vers la terre, avec sa lyre detendue ; le chant vient de finir, mais I'inspiration illumine encore ses regards divins . . . Ce tableau couvre tout un des murs du salon, en face la cheminee avec une glace, des girandoles, et des fleurs Des deux autres murs, l'un est perce de deux fen^tres qui laissent voir les tranquUles jardins de I'Abbaye, l'autre disparait presque tout entier sous des rayons chargCs de 224 THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. Uvres, Des meubles eiCgans sont Cpars ^k et Ik, avec un gracieux dCsordre. Dans un des coins, la porte qui s'entr'ouvre, et dans l'autre une harpe qui attend. " Je vivrais des milUers d'annCes que je n'oublie- rais jamais rien de ce que j'ai vu 1^ . . . . D'autres ont rapporte des courses de leur jeunesse le sou venir d'un site grandiose, ou d'une ruine monu- mentale ; moi, je n'ai vu ni la Grece , . , etc : , . , raais il ra'a ete ouvert ce salon de I'Europe et du sifecle, ou I'air est en quelque sorte charge de gloire et de gCnie , . , , L^ respire encore I'arae enthousiaste de Madarae de Stael ; 1^ reparait, a I'imagination qui TCvoque, la figure meiancoUque et pMe de Benjarain Constant ; l^ retentit la parole vibrante et libre du grand Foy. Tous ces illustres raorts viennent faire cortege a celle qui fut leur araie ; car cet appartement est celui d'une ferarae ceifebre dont on a d6jk devine le nora. Malgre cette pudeur de renorainee qui la fait ainsi se cacher dans le silence, Madarae RCcaraier appartient a I'histoire ; c'est desormais un de ces beaux noms de femme qui brillent dans la cou ronne des grandes Cpoques ainsi que des perles sur un bandeau, RCveiee au monde par sa beaute, eUe I'a charraC peut-6tre plus encore par les graces de son esprit et de son coeur. M6lee par de hautes araitiCs aux plus grands evenemens de repoque, elle en a traverse les vicissitudes sans LECTURE AT THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS, 225 en connaitre les souiUures, et, dans sa vie toute d'ideal, le raalheur raerae et I'exil n'ont ete pour elle que des charraes de plus. A la voir aujour d'hui si harraonieuse et si sereine, on dirait que les orages de la vie n'ont jaraais approchC de ses jours ; a la voir si simple et si bienveiUante, on dirait que sa cCiebrite n'est qu'un songe, et que les plus superbes fronts de la France moderne n'ont jaraais flechi devant elle. Aimee des pontes, des grands, et du Ciel, c'est ^-la-fois' Laure, Eieonore et Beatrix, dont Petrarque, Tasse et le Dante ont imraortalise les noms. " Un jour de Fevrier dernier il y avait dans le salon de Madame Recamier une reunion con- voquee pour une lecture. L'assemblee ^tait bien peu nombreuse, et il n'est pas d'horarae si haut place par le rang ou par le genie qui n'eAt ete fier de s'y trouver. A c6te d'un Montraorency, d'un Larochefoucauld, et d'un Noailles, represen- tans de la vieille noblesse frani^aise, s'asseyaient leurs ^gaux par la noblesse du talent, cet autre hasard de la naissance ; Saint-Beuve et Quinet, Gerbet et Dubois, Lenormand et Ampfere : vous y etiez aussi, Ballanche ! . , . "II parut enfin celui dont le nom avait rCuni un tel auditoire, et toutes les t^tes s'inclin^rent. . . . Son front avait toute la dignite des cheveux gris, raais ses yeux vifs brillaient de jeunesse. II portait a la main, corame un peierin ou un VOL. II. Q 226 APOSTROPHE TO CHATEAUBRIAND. soldat, un paquet enveloppe dans un mouchoir de soie. Cette simplicite me parut merveilieuse dans un pareU sujet ; car ce noble vieillard, c'etait I'auteur des Martyrs, du Genie du Christianisme, de Rene— ce paquet du pClerin, c'etaient les Me moires de M. de Chateaubriand. . . . Mais quelle doloureuse emotion dans les premiers mots — ' Memoires d'Outre-tombe ! . . . Preface testamen- tairel' % * * ¦ * # * " Continuez, Chiteaubriand, k filer en paix votre suaire. Aussi bien, il n'y a de calrae aujourd'hui que le dernier soraraeil, il n'y a de stable que la mort ! . . . . Vieux serviteur de la vieille monar chic ! vous n'avez pas visite sans tressaillir ces sombres galeries du Ibradschin, ovi se prorafenent trois larves royales, avec une orabre de couronne sur le front. Vous avez baignC de vos pleurs les raains de ce vieillard qui eraporte avec lui toute une societe, et la t^te de cet enfant dont les graces n'ont pu Uechir I'inexorable destinee qui s'attache aux races antiques Filez votre suarie de soie et d'or, Chiteaubriand, et enve- loppez-vous dans votre gloire ; il n'est pas de progrfes qui vous puisse ravir votre iramortalite." I think that by this time you must be fully aware, my dear friend, that this intellectual f^te to which we were invited at the Abbaye-aux-Bois JOURNEY TO PRAGUE. 227 was a grace and a favour of which we have very good reason to be proud. I certainly never re member to have been more gratified in every way than I was on this occasion. The thing itself, and the flattering kindness which permitted me to enjoy it, were equaUy the source of pleasure. I may say with all truth, like M. de Lavergne, " Je vivrais des milliers d'annCes que je ne I'ou- blierais jaraais." The choice of the morceau, too, touched me not a little : " du fruit defendu, cette partie la plus defendue" was most assuredly what I should have eagerly chosen had choice been offered. M. de Chateaubriand's journey to Prague furnishes as interesting an historical scene as can weU be imagined ; and I do not believe that any author that ever Uved, Jean -Jacques and Sir Walter not excepted, could have recounted it better — with raore true feeling or raore finished grace : siraple and unaffected to perfection in its style, yet glowing with all the fervour of a poetical iraagination, and all the tenderness of a raost feeling heart. It is a gallery of living portraits that he brings before the eye as if by raagic. There is no minute painting, however : the power ful, the painfully powerful effect of the groups he describes, is produced by the bold and unerring touch of a master. I fancied I saw the royal race before rae, each one individual and distinct ; Q 2 228 LECTURE AT THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. and I could have said, as one does in seeing a clever portrait, " That is a Ukeness, I 'U be sworn for it." Many passages made a profound im pression on ray fancy and on my meraory ; and I think I could give a better account of sorae of the scenes described than I should feel justified in doing as long as the noble author chooses to keep thera from the public eye. There were touches which made us weep abundantly ; and then he changed the key, and gave us the prettiest, the most 'gracious, the raost smiling picture of the young princess and her brother, that it was pos sible for pen to trace. She must be a fair and glorious creature, and one that in days of yore might have been likely enough to have seen her colours floating on the heira of all the doughtiest knights in Christendora. But chivalry is not the fashion of the day ; — there is nothing positif, as the phrase goes, to be gained by it ; — and I doubt if " its ineffectual fire" burn very brightly at the present tirae in any living heart, save that of M. de Chateaubriand hiraself. The party assembled at Madame Recaraier's on this occasion did not, I think, exceed seventeen, including Madarae Recaraier and M. de Chateau briand. Most of these had been present at the forraer readings. The Duchesses de Larochefou cauld and Noailles, and one or two other noble ladies, were araong thera, I felt it was a proof D rawn & E tched ^ ^. Lecthtr.e a l'abbate-aux-boi'; London, PTiblislied \sy HicliaTd Bentley; 1835. THE COMPANY. 229 that genius is of no party, when I saw a grand daughter of General Lafayette enter among us. She is raarried to a gentieraan who is said to be of the extrerae c6te gauche; but I remarked that they both listened with as much deep interest to all the touching detaUs of this mournful visit as the rest of us. Who, indeed, could help it ? — This lady sat between me and Madame Recamier on one sofa ; M. Ampfere the reader, and M, de Chateaubriand hiraself, on another, iraraediately at right angles with it, — so that I had the pleasure of watching one of the raost expressive countenances I ever looked at, while this beautiful specimen of his head and his heart was displayed to us. On the other side of me was a gentleman whom I was extremely happy to meet — the celebrated Gerard ; and before the reading coramenced, I had the pleasure of conversing with him : he is one of those whose aspect and whose words do not disap point the expectations which high reputation al ways gives birth to. There was no formal circle ; — the ladies approached theraselves a little towards THE sofa which was placed at the feet of Corinne, and the gentlemen stationed theraselves in groups behind thera. The sun shone delicately into the roora through the white silk curtains — delicious flowers scented the air — the quiet gardens of the Abbaye, stretched to a sufficient distance beneath the windows to guard us from every Parisian 230 TRIBUTARY VERSES sound — and, in short, the whole thing was perfect. Can you wonder that I was delighted ? or that I have thought the occurrence worth dwelling upon with sorae degree of lingering fondness ? The effect this deUghtful morning has had on us is, I assure you, by no raeans singular : it would be easy to fill a volume with the testimonies of de light and gratitude which have been offered from various quarters in return for this gratification. Madame Tastu, whom I have heard called the Mrs. Hemans of France, was present at one or more of the readings, and has returned thanks in some very pretty lines, which conclude thus fervently: — " Ma tete S'incllne pour saisir jusques aux moindres sons, Et mon genou se ploie a demi, quand je prete, Enchantee et muette, L'oreille a vos le9ons !" Apropos of tributary verses on this subject, I am tempted to conclude ray unmercifully long epistle by giving you some Unes which have as yet, I believe, been scarcely seen by any one but the person to whom they are addressed. They are from the pen of the H. G. who so beautifully translated the twelve first cantos of the " Frithiof Saga," which was so favourably received in Eng land last spring, H. G. is an EngUshwoman, but from the age of two to seventeen she resided in the United States of America. Did I not tell you this, you TO CHATEAUBRIAND. 231 would be at a loss to understand her allusion to the distant dwelling of her youth. This address, as you will perceive, is not as an acknowledgment for having been admitted to the Abbaye, but an earnest prayer that she may be so ; and I heartily hope it will prove successful. TO M. LE VICOMTE DE CHATEAUBRIAND. In that distant region, the land of the West, Where my childhood and youth glided rapidly by. Ah ! why was my bosom with sorrow oppress'd ? Why trembled the tear-drop so oft in mine eye? No ! 'twas not that pleasures they told me alone Were found in the courts where proud monarchs reside ; My knee could not bend at the foot of a throne, My heart could not hallow an emperor's pride. But, oh ! 'twas the thought that bright genius there dwelt, And breathed on a few holy spirits its flame. That awaken'd the grief which in childhood I felt, When, Europe! I mutter'd thy magical name. And now that as pilgrim I visit thy shore, I ask not where kings hold their pompous array ; But I fain would behold, and all humbly adore. The wreath which thy brows, Chateaubriand 1 display. My voice may well falter — unknown is my name, But say, must my accents prove therefore in vain ? Beyond the Atlantic we boast of thy fame. And repeat that thy footstep has traversed our plain. Great bard ! — then reject not the prayer that I speak With trembling emotion, and offer thee now ; In thy eloquent page, oh ! permit me to seek The joys and the sorrows that genius may know. H. G. 232 LETTER LXI. Jardin des Plantes — Not equal in beauty to our Zoological Gardens.— La Salpetriere — Anecdote. — Les Invalides — Difficulty of finding English Colours there — The Dome. Another long morning on the other side of the water has given us abundant amuseraent, and sent us horae in a very good humour with the expedition, because, after very raature and equit able consideration, we were enabled honestly to decide that our Zoological Gardens are in few points inferior, in raany equal, and in some greatly superior, to the long and deservedly celebrated Jardin des Plantes. If considered as a museum and nursery for botanists, we certainly cannot presume to corapare our coraparatively new institution to that of Paris; but, zoologically speaking, it is every way superior. The coUection of aniraals, both birds and beasts, is, I think, better, and certainly in finer condition. I confess that I envy thera their beautiful giraffe ; but what else have they which we cannot equal? Then as to our superiority, look at the corapara tive degree of beauty of the two enclosures. " O England !" as I once heard a Unen-draper exclaim JARDIN DES PLANTES. 233 in the midst of his shop, intending in his march of mind to quote Byron — " O England ! with all thy faults, I can't help loving thee still," And I ara quite of the linen-draper's raind : I cannot help loving those smooth-shaven lawns, those untrimraed flowing shrubs, those meander ing walks, now seen, now lost araidst a cool green labyrinth of shade, which are so truly English. You have all this at the Zoological Gardens — we have none of it in the Jardin des Plantes ; and, therefore, I like the Zoological Gardens best. We raust not say a word, ray friend, about the lectures, or the free adraission to them — that is not our forte ; and if the bourgeoisie go on much longer as they do at present, becoming greater and more powerful with every passing day, and learning to know, as their mercantile neighbours have long known, that it is quite necessary both governments and individuals should turn all things to profit ; — " Car dans le sieele ou nous sommes. On ne donne rien pour rien ;" — if this happens, as I strongly suspect it will, then we shall have no more lectures gratis even in Paris. Frora the Jardin des Plantes, we visited that very magnificent hospital. La Salpdtrifere, I will spare you, however, all the fine things that might be said about it, and only give you a little anec dote which occurred whUe we stood looking into 234 SALPETRIERE. — ANECDOTE, the open court where the imbecile and the mad are permitted to take their exercise. By the way, without at aU presuming to doubt that there may be reasons which the raanagers of this esta bUshment conceive to be satisfactory, why these wretched objefcts, in different stages of their dread ful calamity, should be thus for ever placed before each other's eyes, I cannot but observe, that the effect upon the spectator is painful beyond any thing I ever witnessed. With my usual love for the terrible, I remained immovable for above twenty rain utes, watching the manner in which they appeared to notice each other. If fancy did not cheat me, those who were least wildly deranged looked with a sort of triumph and the consciousness of superiority on those who were most so : some looked on the raad movements of the others and laughed dis tractedly ; — in short, the scene is terribly full of horror. But to return to my anecdote. A stout girl, who looked more imbecUe than raad, was play ing tricks, that a woman who appeared to have some authority among thera endeavoured to stop. The girl evidently understood her, but with a sort of dogged obstinacy persevered, till the nurse, or raatron, or whatever she was, took hold of her arra, and endeavoured to lead her into the house. Upon this the girl resisted ; and it was not with- ANECDOTE. 235 out some degree of violence that she was at last conquered and led away. " What dreadful cruelty !" exclaimed a woman who like ourselves was indulging her curiosity by watching the patients. An old crone, a very aged and decrepid pensioner of the establishment, was passing by on her crutches as she spoke. She stopped in her hobbling walk, and addressing the stranger in the gentle voice of quiet good sense, and in a tone which made me fancy she had seen better days, said — " Dreadful cruelty, good ¦wo- vianl . . . She is preventing her frora doing what ought not to be done. If you had the charge of her, you would think it your duty to do the sarae, and then it would be right. But * dreadful cruelty!' is easily said, and sounds good-hearted; and those who know not what it is to govern, generaUy think it is a sin and a sharae to use authority in any way." And so saying, the old woman hobbled on, leaving rae convinced that La Salpetriere did not give its shelter to fools only. Frora this hospital we took a very long drive to another, going alraost frora the extremest east to the extremest west of Paris. The Invalides was now our object ; and its pleasant, easy, cora fortable aspect offered a very agreeable contrast to the scene we had left. We had becorae taci turn and melancholy at La Salpetriere ; but this interesting and noble edifice revived our spirits 236 LES INVALIDES. completely. Two of the party had never been there before, and the others were eloquent in pointing out all that their former visits had shown thera. No place can be better calculated to sti- raulate conversation ; there is so much to be said about our own Greenwich and Queen Elizabeth, versus Louis le Grand and the Invalides. Then we had the statue of a greater than he — even of Napoleon — upon which to gaze and moralise. Sorae veteran had clirabed up to it, despite a wooden leg, or a single arra perhaps, and crowned the still-honoured head with a fresh wreath of bays. While we stood looking at this, the courteous bow and promising countenance of a fine old man arrested the whole party, and he was questioned and chatted to, till he becaine the hero of his own tale, and we soon knew exactly where he had re ceived his first wound, what were his most glo rious campaigns, and, above all, who was the general best deserving the blessing of an old soldier. Those who in listening to such chronicles in France expect to hear any other narae than that of Napoleon will be disappointed. We may talk of his terrible conscriptions, of poisonings at Jena or forsakings at Moscow, as we will ; the siraple fact which answers aU is, that he was adored by his soldiers when he was with them, and that his LES INVALIDES. 237 memory is cherished with a tender enthusiasm to which history records no parallel. The mere tone of voice in which the narae of " Napoleon !" or the title of " L'Empereur!" is uttered by his vete rans, is of itself enough to prove what he was to thera. They stand taller by an inch when he is named, and throw forward the chest, and snuff the air, like an old war-horse that hears the sound of a trumpet. But StiU, with all these interesting speculations to amuse us, we did not forget what must ever be the priraary object of a stranger's visit to the In valides — the interior of the dome. But this is only to be seen at particular hours ; and we were too late for the early, and too early for the late, opening of the doors for this purpose. Four o'clock was the hour we had to wait for — as yet it was but three. We were invited into the hall and into the kitchen ; we were admitted, too, into sundry little enclosures, appropriated to sorae happy individuals favoured for their skill in, gar den craft, who, turning their muskets into hoes and spades, enjoy their honourable leisure ten times more than their idle brethren. In three out of four of these miniature domains we found plaister Napoleons of a foot high stuck into a box-tree or a rose-bush : one of these, too, had a wreath of newly-gathered leaves twisted round the cocked-hat, and all three were placed and dis- 238 NAPOLEON. played with as much attention to dignity and effect as the finest statues in the Tuileries. If the spirit of Napoleon is perraitted to hover about Paris, to indulge itself in gathering the scattered laurels of his posthuraous fame, it is not to the lofty charabers of the Tuileries that it should betake itself; — nor would it be greatly soothed by listening to the peaceful counsels of his once warlike raarechals. No— if his ghost be well inspired, it will just glide swiftly through the gallery of the Louvre, to compare it with his earthly recollections ; balance itself for a moraent over the statue of the Place Vendorae, and abide, for the rest of the tirae allotted for this raundane visit, araong his faithful invalids. There only would he raeet a welcorae that would please hira. The whole nation, it is true, dearly love to talk of his greatness ; but there is little now left in com mon between them and their sometime emperor. France with a charter, and France without^ differs not by many degrees so widely as France military, and France bourgeoise and boursiere. Under Napoleon she was the type of successful war; under Louis-PhiUppe, she will, I think — if the repubUcans wiU let her alone — become that of prosperous peace : a sword and a feather raight be the erablera of the one — a loom and a long purse of the other. ***** SEARCH FOR ENGLISH COLOURS. 239 But Still it was not four o'clock. We were next invited to enter the chapel ; and we did so, determined to await the appointed hour reposing ourselves on the very comfortable benches pro vided for the veterans to whose use it is appro priated. Here, stretched and lounging at our ease, we chaUenged each other to discover English colours among the raultitude of conquered banners which hung suspended above our heads. It is hardly possible that sorae such should not be there ; yet it is a positive fact, that not all our farailiar acquaintance with the colours we sought cpuld enable us to discover thera. There is indeed one torn and battered relic, that it is just possible might have been hacked and sawed from the des perately firm grasp of an Englishman ; but the morsel of rag left is so small, that it was in fact more from the lack of testimony than the pre sence of it that we at length came to the con clusion that this relic of a stick raight once have raade part of an English standard. Not in any degree out of huraour at our dis appointment in this search after our national ban ner, we followed the guide who sumraoned us at last to the dorae, chatting and laughing as cheerily and as noisily as if we had not been exhausting our spirits for the last four hours by sight-seeing. But what fatigue could not achieve, was the next 240 DOME OE THE INVALIDES. moment produced by wonder, adrairation, and de light. Never did rauter silence fall upon a talk ing group, than the sight of this matchless chapel brought on us. Speech is certainly not the first or most natural resource that the spirit resorts to, when thus roused, yet chastened — enchanted, yet subdued. I have not yet been to Rorae, and know not how I shall feel if ever I find rayself under the dorae of St. Peter's. There, I conceive that it is a sense of vastness which seizes on the raind ; here it is wholly a feeling of beauty, harraony, and grace. I know nothing like it anywhere : the Pantheon (ci-devant Ste. Genevieve), with all its nobleness and raajesty, is heavy, and almost clumsy, when compared to it. Though possess ing no religious solemnity whatever, and in this respect inferior beyond the reach of comparison to the choir of Cologne, or King's College Chapel at Carabridge, it nevertheless produces a stronger effect upon the senses than either of thera. This is owing, I suspect, to the circurastance of there being no raixture of objects: the golden taber nacle seems to complete rather than destroy its unity. If I could give myself a fete, it should be, to be placed within the pure, bright, lofty love Uness of this marble sanctuary, while a full and finished orchestra performed the chefs-d'oeuvre of Handel or Mozart in the church. 241 LETTER LXII. Expedition to Montmorency. — Rendezvous in the Passage Delorme. — St. Denis — Tomb prepared for Napoleon. — The Hermitage. — Diner sur I'herbe. It is more than a fortnight ago, I think, that we engaged ourselves with a very agreeable party of twenty persons to take a long drive out of Paris and indulge ourselves with a very gay " diner sur I'herbe." But it is no easy matter to find a day on which twenty people shall all be ready and wiUing to leave Paris. However, a steadfast will can conquer most things. The whole twenty were quite deterrained that they would go to Montraorency, and to Montraorency at last we have been. The day was really one of great enjoyraent, but yet it did not pass without disas ters. One of these which occurred at the rao- raent of starting very nearly overthrew the whole scherae. The place of general rendezvous for us and our harapers was the Galerie Delorme, and thither one of the party who had undertaken that branch of the business had ordered the carriages to corae. At ten o'clock precisely, the first de- VOL. II. R 242 A RENDEZVOUS. tachraent of the party was deposited with their belongings at the southern extreraity of the gal lery; another and another foUowed tUl the mus- ter-roU was coraplete. Baskets were piled on baskets; and the passers-by read our history in these, and in our anxious eyes, which ceased not to turn with ever-increasing anxiety the way the carriages should come. What a supplice ! Every rainute, every second, brought the rolUng of wheels to our ears, but only to mock us : the wheels rolled on — no carriages came for us, and we reraained in statu quo to look at each other and our baskets. Then came forth, as always happens on great and trying occasions, the inward character of each. The sturdy and firm-minded set them selves down on the packages, determined to abide the eyes of all rather than shrink frora their in tent. The timid and more frail of purpose gently whispered proposals that we should all go horae again ; while others, yet listening to " Hope's enchanting measure, Which still promised coming pleasure," smiled, and looked forth from the gallery, and srailed again — though stUl no carriage came. It was, as I suspect, these young hopes and smiles which saved us frora final disappointment : for the young men belonging to the cortege, sud denly rousing theraselves frora their state of list- CHURCH OF ST, DENIS. 243 less watching, declared with one voice and one spirit, that les demoiseUes should not be disap pointed ; and exchanging consignes which were to regulate the number and species of vehicles each was to seek — and find, too, on peril of his reputation, — they darted forth from the gallery, leaving us with renewed spirits and courage to bear all the curious glances bestowed upon us. Our half-dozen aides-de-camp returned tri umphantly in a few minutes, each one in his delta or his citadine; and the Galerie Delorme was soon left far behind us. It is lucky for you that we had not to make a " voyage par mer " and " retour par terre," or ray story raight be as long — if resembling it in no other way — as the iraraortal expedition to St. Cloud. I shall not raake a volurae of it ; but I must tell you that we halted at St. Denis. The church is beautiful — a perfect bijou of true Gothic architecture — light, lofty, elegant ; and we saw it, too, in a manner peculiarly advantageous, for it had neither organ, altar, nor screen to dis tract the eye from the great and simple beauty of the original design. The repairs going on here are of a right royal character — on a noble scale and in excellent taste. Several monuments restored from the coUection made under the Em pire aux Petits Augustins are now again the glory of St. Denis ; and some of thera have stUl R 2 244 CHURCH OF ST, DENIS, much remaining which raay entitle thera to rank as very pure and perfect specimens of highly- antiquated monumental sculpture. But the chi selled treasures of a thousand years' standing can not be made to travel about like the scenery of strolling players, in conforraity to the will and whira of the successive actors who play the part of king, without great injury. In some instances the original nooks in this venerable mausoleum of royal bones have again received the effigies originaUy carved to repose within them ; but the regal image has rarely been replaced without showing itself in sorae degree way-worn. In other cases, the monumental portrait, venerable and almost haUowed by its high antiquity, is made to recline on a whitened sepulchre as bright as Parisian masonry can raake it. Having fully examined the church and its medley of old and new treasures, we called a council as to the possibility of finding tirae for descending to the crypts : but raost of the party agreeing in opinion that we ought not to lose the opportunity of visiting what a wit araongst us happily enough designated " le Palais Royal de la Mort," we ordered the iron gates to be unbarred for us, and proceeded with sorae solemnity of feeling into the pompous tomb. And here the unfortunate result of that bold spirit of change which holds nothing sacred is still raore disagree- REGAL TOMBS, 245 ably obvious than in the church. All the royal raonuraents of France that could be collected are asserabled in this raagnificent vault, but with such incongruity of dates belonging to different parts of the same structure, as almost wholly to destroy the iraposing effect ofthis gorgeous grave. But if the spectator would seek farther than his eye can carry hira, and inquire where the raortal relics of each sculptured monarch lie, the answer he will receive must make him believe that the royal dust of France has been scattered to the four winds of heaven. Nothing I have heard has sounded more strangely to me than the naivete with which our guide informed us that, among all this multitude of regal torabs, there was not one which contained a single ves tige of the mortal remains of those they com memorate. For the love of good taste and consistency, these guardians of the royal sepulchre of France should be taught a more poetical lesson. It is inconceivable how, as he spoke, the soleran rae raorials of the illustrious dead, near which ray foot had passed cautiously and my voice been mute, seemed suddenly converted into something little raore sacred than the show furnishing of a stone-mason's shop. The bathos was perfect. I could not but reraember with a feeling of national pride the contrast to this presented by 246 TOMB PREPARED FOR NAPOLEON. Westminster Abbey and St. George's Chapel. The raonuments of these two royal fanes" form a series as interesting in the history of art as of our royal line, and no painful consciousness of desecration mixes itself with the solemn rever ence with which we contemplate the honoured torabs. The raost interesting object in the crypts of St. Denis, and which comes upon the moral feeUng with a force increased rather than diminished by the incongruities which surround it, is the door of the vault prepared by Napoleon for hiraself. It is inscribed, ICI REPOSENT LES Dl&POUILLES MORTELLES DE This inscription stiU reraains, as well as the raassive brazen gates with their triple locks, which were designed to close the torab. These rich portals are not suspended on hinges, but rest against a wall of solid masonry, over which the above inscription is seen. The iraperial vault thus chosen by the living despot as the sanctuary for bones which it was our fortune to dispose of elsewhere is greatly distinguished by its situation, being exactly under the high altar, and in the centre of the crypts, which foUow the beautiful curve of the Lady Chapel above. It now contains SINGULAR CUSTOM. 247 the bodies of Louis Dix-huit and the Due de Berri, and is completely bricked up. In another vault, at one end of the circular crypts, and perfectly excluded frora the Ught of day, but made visible by a single feeble larap, are two coffins enclosing the reraains of the two last defunct princes of the blood royal ; but I for get their naraes. When I inquired of our con ductor why these two coffins were thus exposed to view, he replied, with the air of a person giving information respecting what was as un changeable as the laws of the Medes and Persians, " C'est toujours ainsi ;" adding, " When another royal corpse is interred, the one of these two which was the first deposited wiU be removed, to be placed beneath its monuraent ; but two must ever remain thus." " Always " and " ever " are words which can seldora be used discreetly without some reserva tion ; but respecting anything connected with the political state of France, I should think they had better never be used at all. We returned to the carriages and pursued our pretty drive. The latter part of the route is very beautiful, and we all walked up one long steep hiU, as much, or raore perhaps, to enjoy the glo rious view, and the fresh delicious air, as to assist the horses. Arrived at the famous Cheval Blanc at Montrao- 248 MONTMORENCY. rency, (a sign painted, as the tradition says, by no less a hand than that of Gerard, who, in a youth ful pilgriraage with his friend Isabey to this re gion consecrated to roraance, found hiraself with no other raeans of defraying their bUl than by painting a sign for his host,) we quitted our wearied and wearisorae citadines, and began to seek, amidst the multitude of horses and donkeys which stood saddled and bridled around the door of the inn, for twenty weU-conditioned beasts, be sides a sumpter-mule or two, to carry us and our provender to the forest. And, oh ! the turault and the din that accora panied this selection ! Multitudes of old woraen and ragamuffin boys assailed us on all sides. — " Tenez, madame ; voil^ mon ane ! y a-t-il une autre b^te comme la mienne ? . . ." " Non, non, non, belles daraes ! Ne le croyez pas ; c'est la raienne qu'il vous faut . . ." " Et vous, monsieur — c'est un cheval qui vous manque, n'est-ce pas ? en voil^ un superbe ..." The multitude of hoarse old voices, and shrill young ones, joined to our own noisy mirth, pro duced a din that brought out half the population of Montraorency to stare at us : but at length we were mounted — and, what was of infinitely raore consequence, and infinitely raore difficulty also, our hampers and baskets were raounted too. But before we could think of the greenwood ROUSSEAU'S HERMITAGE. 249 tree, and the gay repast to be spread under it, we had a pilgrimage to make to the shrine which has given the region all its fame. Hitherto we had thought only of its beauty, — who does not know the lovely scenery of Montraorency ? — even without the narae of Rousseau to give a fanciful interest to every path around it, there is enough in its hills and dales, its forest and its fields, to cheer the spirits and enchant the eye. A day stolen from the dissipation, the dust, and the noise of a great city, is always delightful ; but when it is enjoyed in the very fullest green perfec tion of the last days of May, when every new-born leaf and blossom is fully expanded to the delicious breeze, and not One yet fallen before it, the en joyraent is perfect. It is like seeing a new piece while the dresses and decorations are all fresh ; and never can the mind be in a state to taste with less of pain, and more of pleasure, the thoughts suggested by such a scene as the Hermit age. I have, however, no intention of indulging rayself in a burst of tender feeling over the rae lancholy meraory of Rousseau, or of enthusiastic gratitude at the recollection of Gretry, though both are strongly brought before the mind's eye by the various memorials of each so carefully treasured in the little parlour in which they pass ed so many hours : yet it is impossible to look at the little rude table on which the first and greatest 250 ROUSSEAU'S HERMITAGE. of these gifted raen scribbled the "Heioise," or on the broken and untuneable keys of the spinette with which the eloquent visionary so often sooth ed his sadness and solitude, without sorae feeling tant soit peu approaching to the sentiraental. Before the window of this sraall gloomy roora, which opens upon the garden, is a rose-tree plant ed by the hand of Rousseau, which has furnished, as they told us, cuttings enough to produce a forest of roses. The house is as dark and dull as may be ; but the garden is pretty, and there is something of fanciful in its arrangement which makes me think it must be as he left it. The records of Grdtry would have produced more effect if seen elsewhere, — at least I thought so ; — yet the sweet notes of " O Richard ! O mon roi !" seemed to be sounding in ray ears, too, as I looked at his old spectacles, and several other little doraestic relics that were inscribed with his name. But the " Reveries du Promeneur Solitaire" are worth all the notes that Gretry ever wrote. A raarble coluran stands in a shady corner of the garden, bearing an inscription which states that her highness the Duchesse de Berri had visit ed the Herraitage, and taken " le coeur de Gretry" under her august protection, which had been un justly clairaed by the Liegeois frora his native France. What this raeans, or where her highness A YOUNG ITALIAN'S HOMAGE. 251 found the great composer's heart, I could not learn. We took the objects of our expedition in most judicious order, fasting and fatigue being decided ly favourable to melancholy ; but, even with these aids, I cannot say that I discovered much propen sity to the tender vein in the generality of our party. Sentiment is so completely out of fashion, that it would require a bold spirit to confess be fore twenty gay souls that you felt any touch of it. There was one young Italian, however, of the party whora I missed frora the tirae we entered the precincts of the Hermitage ; nor did I see him till some time after we were all raounted again, and in full chase for the well-known chesnut-trees which have thrown their shadow over so raany al fresco repasts. When he again joined us, he had a rose in his button-hole : I felt quite certain that it was plucked frora the tree the sad philosopher had planted, and that he, at least, had done horaage to his shade, whoever else had failed to do so. Whatever was felt at the Hermitage, however, was now left behind us, and a less larmoyante party never entered the Forest of Montraorency. When we reached the spot on which we had fixed by anticipation for our salle-k-manger, we descend ed frora our various montures, which were iraraedi- 252 A PIC-NIC DINNER. ately unsaddled and perraitted to refresh thera selves, tied together in very picturesque groups, while all the party set to work with that inde scribable air of contented confusion and happy disorder which can only be found at a pic -nie. I have heard a great raany very sensible remarks, and sorae of them really very hard to answer, upon the extreme absurdity of leaving every ac commodation which is considered needful for the corafort of a Christian-like dinner, for the sole purpose of devouring this needful repast without one of thera. What can be said in defence of such an act ? . . . Nothing, — except perhaps that, for some unaccountable reason or other, no dinner throughout the year, however sumptuously served or delicately furnished, ever does appear to pro duce one half so much light-hearted enjoyment as the cold repast round which the guests crouch like so many gipsies, with the turf for their table and a tree for their canopy. It is very strange — but it is very true ; and as long as men and wo men continue to experience this singular acces sion of good spirits and good humour frorn cir cumstances which raight be reasonably expected to destroy both, nothing better can be done thau to let thera go on perforraing the sarae extraordi nary feat as long as the fancy lasts. And so we sat upon the grass, caring Uttle for what the wise raight say of us, for an hour and a DISPERSION OF THE PARTY. 253 half at the very least. Our attendant old women and boys, seated at convenient distance, were eat ing as heartily and laughing as merrUy as our selves ; whilst our beasts, seen through the open ings of the thicket in which they were stabled, and their whimsical housings piled up together at the foot of an old thorn at its entrance, corapleted the coraposition of our gipsy festival. At length the signal was given to rise, and the obedient troop were on their feet in an instant. The horses and the asses were saddled forthwith : each one seized his and her own and mounted. A council was then called as to whither we should go. Sundry forest paths stretched away so in vitingly in different directions, that it was difficult to decide which we should prefer. " Let us all meet two hours hence at the Cheval Blanc," said some one of brighter wit that all the rest : where upon we all set off, fancy-led, by twos and by threes, to put this interval of freedom and fresh air to the best account possible. I was strongly tempted to set off directly for Eaubonne. Though I confess that Jean-Jacques' descriptions (tant vantees !) of some of the scenes which occurred there between hiraself and his good friend Madame d'Houdetot, in which she rewards his tender passion by constant assurances of her own tender passion for Saint-Lambert, have always appeared to me the very reverse of the 254 RAMBLE IN THE subUme and beautiful ; yet stiU the place must be redolent of the raan whose " Reveries" have made its whole region classic ground : and go where I will, I always love to bring the genius of the place as near to me as possible. But my wishes were effectually checked by the old lady whose donkey carried me, " Oh ! dame — il ne faut pas aller par Ik . , . . ce n'est pas \k le beau point de vue ; laissez-raoi faire , . . . et vous verrez . . . ," And then she enuraerated so many charming points of forest scenery that ought to be visited by " tout le monde," that I and my corapanions de cided it would be our best course to permit the laisser faire she asked for ; and accordingly we set off in the direction she chose. We had no cause to regret it, for she knew her business well, and, in truth, led us as beautiful a circuit as it was well possible to iraagine. If I did not invoke Rousseau in his bosquet d'Eaubonne, or beside the " cascade dont," as he says, " je lui avals don ne I'idee, et qu'elle avait fait executer," — (Rous seau had never seen Niagara, or he would not have talked of his Sophie's having executed his idea of a cascade ;) — though we did not seek him there, we certainly met hira, at every step of our beautiful forest path, in the flowers and raosses whose study formed his best recreation at Mont morency. " Herboriser" is a word which, I FOREST OF MONTMORENCY. 255 think, with all possible respect for that modern strength of intellect that has fixed its stigma upon sentiment, Rousseau has in some sort consecrat ed. There is something so natural, so genuine, so delightfully true, in his expressions, when he de scribes the pleasure this occupation has given hira, contrasted as it is with his sour and querulous philosophy, and still raore perhaps with the elo quent but unrighteous bursts of ill-directed pas sion, that its irapression on ray raind is incorapara bly greater than any he has produced by other topics. " BriUantes fleurs, email des pr6s !".... is an exclamation a thousand times more touching, coming frora the poor solitary J.-J. at sixty-five, than any of the raost passionate exclamations which he makes St. Preux utter ; and for this reason the woods of Montmorency are more inter esting frora their connexion with him than any spot the neighbourhood of Vevay could offer. The view from the Rendezvous de Chasse is glorious. WhUe pausing to enjoy it, our old woraan began talking politics to us. She told us that she had lost two sons, who both died fighting beside " notre grand Empereur" who was certainly " le plus grand horarae de la terre ; cependant, it was a great corafort for poor people to have bread for onze sous — and that was what King Louis- Philippe had done for thera." 256 A DISAGREEABLE ACCIDENT. After our halt, we turned our heads again to wards the town, and were peacefully pursuing our deUciously cool ride under the trees, when a hoUa ! frora behind stopped us. It proceeded frora one of the boys of our cortege, who, raounted upon a horse that one ofthe party had used, was galloping and hollaing after us with all his might. The in formation he brought was extremely disagreeable : one of the gentlemen had been thrown from his horse and taken up for dead ; and he had been sent, as he said, to collect the party together, to know what was to be done. The gentieraan who was with our detaehraeut iraraediately accom panied the boy to the spot ; but as the unfor tunate sufferer was quite a stranger to me, and was already surrounded by many of the party, I and ray companion decided upon returning to Montmorency, there to await at Le Cheval Blanc the appearance of the rest. A raedical raan, we found, had been already sent for. When at length the whole party, with the exception of this unfor tunate young man and a friend who remained with hira, were assembled, we found, upon coraparing notes together, that no less than four of our party had been unhorsed or undonkeyed in the course of the day ; but happily three of these were ac cidents followed by no alarraing results. The fourth was much more serious ; but the report frora the Montraorency surgeon, which we re- ITS HAPPY RESULTS. 257 ceived before we left the town, assured us that no ultimate danger was to be apprehended. One circumstance attending this disagreeable contre-tems was very fortunate. The accident took place at the gates of a chateau, the owners of which, though only returned a few hours be fore frora a tour in Italy, received the sufferer and his friend with the greatest kindness and hospitality. Thus, though only eighteen of us returned to Paris to recount the day's adven tures, we had at least the consolation of having a very interesting, and luckily not fatal, episode to narrate, in which a castle and raost courteous knights and dames bore a part, while the wound ed cavalier on whora their generous cares were bestowed had not only given signs of life, but had been pronounced, to the great joy of aU the company, quite out of danger either of life or limb. So ended our day at Montmorency, which, spite of our raanifold disasters, was declared upon the whole to have been one of very great enjoy raent. VOL. II. 258 LETTER LXIII. George Sand. I HAVE more than once mentioned to you my observations on the reception given in Paris to that terrible school of composition which derives its power from displaying, with strength that exaggerates the vices of our nature, all that is worst and vilest in the human heart. I have repeatedly dwelt upon the subject, because it is one which I have so often heard treated unfairly, or at least ignorantly, in England ; and a love of truth and justice has therefore led me to assure you, with reiterated protestations, that neither these raischief-doing works nor their authors raeet at all a better reception in Paris than they would in London. It is this same love of truth and justice which prompts me to separate from the pack one whora nature never intended should belong to it. The lady who writes under the signature of George Sand cannot be set aside by the sternest guar dian of pubUc raorals without a sigh. With GEORGE SAND. 259 great — perhaps, at the present moraent, with un equalled power of writing, Madarae de D- perpetually gives indications of a heart and mind which seem to prove that it was intended her place should be in a very different set from that with which she has chosen to mingle. It is irapossible that she should write as she has done without possessing some of the finest quaUties of human nature ; but she is and has been tossed about in that whirlpool of unsettled principles, deformed taste and exaggerated feeling, in which the distempered spirits of the day delight to bathe and disport themselves, and she has been stained and bruised therein. Yet she has no thing in comraon with their depraved feeUngs and distorted strength ; and there is so much of the divine spirit of real genius within her, that it seems as if she could not sink in the vortex that has engulfed her corapanions. She floats and rises still ; and would she raake one bold effort to free herself frora this slough, she raight yet be corae one of the brightest ornaraents of the age. Not her own country only, but all the world have clairas on her ; for genius is of no nation, but speaks in a language that can be heard and understood by aU. And is it possible that such a raind as hers can be insensible to the glory of enchanting the best and purest spirits in the world ? . . . Can she prefer the paltry plaudits of s 2 260 GEORGE SAND. the obscure herd who scorn at decency, to the universal hymn of love and praise which she raust hear rising from the whole earth to do honour to the holy rause of Walter Scott ? The powers of this lady are of so high an order as in fact to withdraw her totally, though seemingly against her will, from all literary com panionship or corapetition with the raultitude of Uttle authors whose raoral theories appear of the sarae colour as her own ; and in the tribute of adrairation which justice corapels rae to pay her, ray raemory dwells only on such passages as none but herself could write, and which happily all the world may read. It is sad, indeed, to be forced to read almost by stealth voluraes which contain such passages, and to turn in silence from the lecture with one's heart glowing with adrairation of thoughts that one might so proudly quote and boast of as coraing from the pen of a woman ! But, alas ! her volumes are closed to the young and inno cent, and one may not dare to name her among those to whom the raemory clings with gratitude as the giver of high raental enjoyment. One strong proof that the native and genuine bent of her genius would carry her far above and quite out of sight of the whole decousu school is, that, with all her magical grace of expression, she is always less herself, less original. " ANDRE," 261 a thousand tiraes less aniraated and inspired, when she sets herself to paint scenes of unchaste love, and of unnatural and hard indifference to de- corura, than when she throws the reins upon the neck of her own Pegasus, and starts away into the bright region of unsoiled thoughts and purely intellectual meditation. I should be sorry to quote the titles of any books which ought never to have been written, and which had better not be read, even though there should be buried in them precious gems of thought and expression which produce the effect of a ray of sunshine that has entered by a crevice into a dark chamber ; but there are some morsels by George Sand which stand apart frora the rest, and which raay be cited with out raischief. " La Revue des Deux Mondes " has more than once done good service to the public by putting forth in its trustworthy pages sorae of her shorter works. Araongst these is a Uttle story called " Andre," which if not c^aiie faultless, raay yet be fairly quoted to prove of what its author raight be capable. The cha racter of Genevieve, the heroine of this siraple, na tural little tale, is evidence enough that George Sand knows what is good. Yet even here what a strange perversity of purpose and of judgraent peeps out ! She raakes this Genevieve, whose character is conceived in a spirit of purity and 262 GEORGE SAND, deUcacy that is reaUy angelic, — she raakes this sweet and exquisitely innocent creature fall into indiscretion with her lover before she raarries him, though the doing so neither affects the story nor changes the catastrophe in the slightest degree. It is an impropriety d pure perte, and is in fact such a deplorable incongruity in the character of Genevieve — so perfectly gratuitous and unnecessary, and so utterly out of keeping with the rest of the picture, that it really looks as if Madarae D might not publish a volume that was not timbre with the starap of her clique. It would not, I suppose, pass current araong them without it. This story of " Andre" is still before me ; and though it is quite irapossible that I should be able to give you any idea of it by extracts, I will transcribe a few Unes to show you the tone of thought in which its author loves to indulge. Speaking of the universal power or influence of poetry, which certainly, like M, Jourdain's prose, often exists in the mind sans qu'on en sache rien, she says, — "Les idees poetiques peuvent s'ajuster a la taille de tous les hommes, L'un porte sa poesie sur son front, un autre dans son cceur ; celui-ci la cherche dans une promenade lente et silen- cieuse au sein des plaines, celui-li la poursuit au galop de son cheval a travers les ravins ; un " ANDRi." 263 troisierae I'arrose sur sa fenfitre, dans un pot de tulipes. Au lieu de demander oil elle est, ne devrait-on pas demander oil n'est-elle pas ? Si ce n'etait qu'une langue, elle- pourrait se perdre ; mais c'est une essence qui se compose de deux choses, la beaute repandue dans la nature ex- terieure, et le sentiraent depart! k toute I'intelU- gence ordinaire," Again she shows the real tone of her raind when, speaking of a future state, she says, — " Qui salt si, dans un nouveau code de morale, un nouveau cat^chisrae religieux, le degout et la tristesse ne seront pas Uetris corame des vices, tandis que I'amour, I'espoir, et I'adrairation seront recompenses corarae des vertus ?" This is a beautiful idea of the duties belonging to a happier state of existence ; nay, I think that if we were only as good as we easily raight be here, even this life would becorae rather an act of thanksgiving than what it too often is — a re cord of sighs, I know not where I should look in order to find thoughts raore true, or fanciful ideas raore beautifuUy expressed, than I have met with in this same story, where the occupations and re veries of its heroine are described. Genevieve is by profession a maker of artificial flowers, and the minute study necessary to enable her to imi tate skilfully her lovely models has led her to an 264 GEORGE SAND. intimate acquaintance with them, the pleasures of which are described, and her love and admira tion of thera dwelt upon, in a strain that I ara quite persuaded none other but George Sand could utter. It is evident, indeed, throughout all her writings, that the works of nature are the idols she worships. In the " Lettres d'un Voya geur," — which I trust are only begun, for it is here that the author is perfect, unrivalled, and irre proachable, — she gives a thousand proofs of a heart and iraagination whch can only be truly at horae when far from " the rank city." In writing to a friend in Paris, whora she addresses as a person devoted to the cares and the honours of public life, she says, — "Quand tu vols passer un pauvre oiseau, tu envies son essor, et tu re- grettes les cieux." Then she exclairas, " Que ne puis-je t'emraener avec moi sur I'aile des vents inconstans, te faire respirer le grand air des soli tudes et t'apprendre le secret des pontes et des BoUemiens !" She has learned that secret, and the use she makes of it places her, in my estima tion, wondrously above most of the descriptive poets that France has ever boasted. Yet her de scriptions, exquisite as they soraetimes are, en chant rae less perhaps than the occasional shoot ing, if I may so express it, of a bold new thought into the regions of philosophy and metaphysics ; GEORGE SAND. 265 but it is done so lightly, so playfully, that it should seera she was only jesting when she ap pears to aim thus wildly at objects so rauch beyond a woraan's ken. " Tous les tr6nes de la terre ne valent pas pour raoi une petite fleur au bord d'un lac des Alpes," she says ; and then starts off with this strange query : " Une grande question serait celle de savoir si la Providence a plus d'araour et de respect pour notre char- pente osseuse, que pour les petales embaumes de ses jasrains." She professes herself (of course) to be a re publican ; but only says of it, " De toutes les causes dont je ne rae soucie pas, c'est la plus belle;" and then adds, quite in her own vein, " Du raoins, les raots de patrie et de liberte sont harmonieux — tandis que ceux de legitimite et d'obeissance sont grossiers, mal-sonnans, et faits pour des oreilles de gendarraes." ..." Aduler une buche couronnee," is, she declares, " renoncer a sa dignite d'horarae, et se faire acaderaicien." However, she quizzes her political friend for being " le martyr des nobles ambitions ;" adding, " Gouvernez-moi bien tous ces vilains idiots .... je vais chanter au soleil sur une branche, pendant ce tems-lk." In another place, she says that she is " bonne a rien qu'a causer avec I'echo, a regarder lever la 266 GEORGE SAND. lune, et k coraposer des chants raeiancoliques ou moqueurs pour les etudians pontes et les ecoliers araoureux." As a specimen of what this writer's powers of description are, I will give you a few lines from a little story called " Mattea," — a story, by the way, that is beautiful, one hardly knows why, —just to show you how she can treat a therae worn threadbare before she was born. Is there, in truth, any picture rauch less new than that of a gondola, with a guitar in it, gliding along the canals of Venice ? But see what she raakes of it. "La guitare est un instruraent qui n'a son existence veritable qu'k Venise, la ville silencieuse et sonore. Quand une gondole rase ce fleuve d'encre phosphorescente, oil chaque coup de rarae enfonce un eclair, tandis qu'une gvtle de petites notes legferes, nettes, et folatres, bondit et rebon- dit sur les cordes que parcourt une main invisibile on voudrait arrfeter et saisir cette melodie foible mais distincte qui agace I'oreUle des passans, et qui fuit le long des grandes ombres des palais, comme pour appeler les belles aux fen^tres, et passer en leur disant — -Ce n'est pas pour vous la serenade ; et vous ne saurez ni d'ovl elle vient, ni ok elle va." Could Rous&eau himself have chosen apter " LETTRES D'UN VOYAGEUR." 267 words ? Do they not seera an echo to the sound she describes ? The private history of an author ought never to raix itself with a judgraent of his works. Of that of George Sand I know but Uttle ; but divining it frora the only source that the public has any right to examine, — namely, her writings, — I should be disposed to believe that her story is the old one of affection either ill requited, or in some way or other unfortunate ; and there is justice in quoting the passages which seera to indicate this, because they are written in a spirit that, let the circurastances be what they will, raust do her honour. In the " Lettres d'un Voyageur " already raen tioned, the supposed writer of thera is clearly identified with George Sand by this passage : — " Meure le petit George quand Dieu voudra, le raonde n'en ira pas plus raal pour avoir ignore sa fa^on de penser. Que veux-tu que je te disc? II faut que je te parle encore de moi, et rien n'est plus insipide qu'une individualite qui n'a pas en core trouve le mot de sa destinee. Je n'ai aucun inter^t k forrauler une opinion quelconque. Quel ques personnes qui lisent raes livres ont le tort de croire que raa conduite est une profession de foi, et le choix des sujets de raes historiettes une sorte de plaidoyer contre certaines lois : bien loin de la. 268 GEORGE SAND. je reconnais que raa vie est pleine de fautes, et je croirais coraraettre une lachete si je me battais les flancs pour trouver un systfeme d'idees qui en autoriskt I'exeraple." After this, it is impossible to read, without being touched by it, this sublime phrase used in speaking of one who would retire into the deep soUtudes of nature frora struggling with the world : — " Les astres eternels auront toujours raison, et I'horarae, quelque grand qu'il soit par rai les horaraes, sera toujours saisi d'epouvante quand il voudra interroger ce qui est au-dessus de lui. O silence effrayant, reponse eioquente et terrible de I' eternity .'" In another place, speaking with less Ughtness of tone than is generally raixed throughout these charraing letters with the gravest speculations, George Sand says : — " J'ai raal vecu, j'ai raal use des biens qui rae sont edius, j'ai neglige les ceuvres de charite ; j'ai vecu dans la moUesse, dans I'ennui, dans les larraes vaines, dans les folles araours, dans les vains plaisirs. Je rae suis prosterne devant des idoles de chair et de sang, et j'ai laisse leur souffle eni- vrant effacer les sentences aust^res que la sagesse des livres avait ecrites sur mon front dans ma jeunesse. . . . J'avais ete honnite autrefois, sais- GEORGE SAND. 269 tu bien cela, Everard? C'est de notoriete bour geoise dans notre pays ; raais il y avait peu de merite, — j'etais jeune, et les funestes amours n'etaient pas edos dans mon sein. lis ont etouffe bien des qualites ; raais je sais qu'il en est aux- quelles je n'ai pas fait la plus kghre tache au milieu des plus grands revers de ma vie, et qu' au cune des autres n'est perdu pour moi sans retour." I could go on very long quoting with plea sure from these pages ; but I cannot, I think, conclude better than with this passage. Who is there but must wish that all the great and good qualities of this gifted woman (for she must have both) should break forth from whatever cloud sorrow or misfortune of any kind may have thrown over her, and that the rest of her days may pass in the tranquil developement of her extraordinary talents, and in such a display of them to the public as shall leave its adraira tion unmixed ? 270 LETTER LXIV. " Angelo Tyran de Padoue " — Burlesque at the Theatre du Vaudeville. — Mademoiselle Mars— Madame Dorval. — Epigram. We have seen and enjoyed many very pretty, very gay little pieces at raost of the theatres since we have been here ; but we never till our last visit to the Theatre Frani^ais enjoyed that uncontrollable raoveraent of raerriment which, set ting all lady-like nonchalance at defiance, obliged us to yield ourselves up to hearty, genuine laugh ter ; in which, however, we had the consolation of seeing many of those around us join. And what was the piece, can you guess, which produced this effect upon us ? ... It was "Angelo 1" It was the "Tyran de Padoue" — pas doux du tout, as the wits of the parterre aver. But, in truth, I ought not to assent to this verdict, for never tyrant was so doux to rae and raine as this, and never was a very long play so heartily laughed at to the end. But raust I write to you in sober earnest about MLLE. MARS AND MADAME DORVAL. 271 this comic tragedy ? I suppose I must ; for, ex cept the Proems Monstre, nothing has been more talked of in Paris than this new birth of M. Hugo. The cause for this excitement was not that a new play from this sufficiently well-known hand was about to be put upon the scene, but a circumstance which has made rae angry and all Paris curious. This tragedy, as you shaU see presently, has two heroines who run neck and neck through every act, leaving it quite in doubt which ought to come in prima donna. Made moiseUe Mars was to play the part of one — but who could venture to stand thus close beside her in the other part ? — nobody at the Francais, as it should seem : and so, wonderful to tell, and al most impossible to believe, a lady, a certain Ma darae Dorval, well known as a heroine of the Porte St. Martin, I believe, was enlisted into the corps of the Francais to run a tilt with — Mars. This extraordinary arrangeraent was talked of, and asserted, and contradicted, and believed, and disbeUeved, tiU the noise of it filled aU Paris. Yom will hardly wonder, then, that the appear ance of this drama has created rauch sensation, or that the desire to see it should extend beyond the circle of M. Hugo's young adrairers. I have been told, that as soon as this arrange ment was pubUcly made known, the appUcation for boxes becarae very nuraerous. The author 272 Hugo's " angelo." was perraitted to exaraine the list of all those who had applied, and no boxes were positively pro- raised till he had done so. Before the night for the first representation was finally fixed, a large party of friends and admirers assembled at the poet's house, and, araongst them, expunged from this list the names of all such persons as were either known or suspected to be hostile to him or his school. Whatever deficiencies this ex clusive system produced in the box-book were supplied by his particular partisans. The result on this first night was a brilliant success. " L'auteur de Crorawell," says the Revue des Deux Mondes, " a proclarae d'une voix dicta- toriale la fusion de la comedie et de la tragedie dans le drame." It is for this reason, perhaps, that M. Hugo has made his last tragedy so irresistibly coraic. The dagger and the bowl bring on the catastrophe, — therefore, sans cont redire, it is a tragedy : but his playful spirit has arranged the incidents and constructed the dialogue, — there fore, sans faute, it is a coraedy. In one of his exquisite prefaces, M. Hugo says, that he would not have any audience quit the theatre without carrying with thera " quelque moralite austere et profonde ;" and I will now raake it my task to point out to you how well he has redeen)ed this promise in the present instance. In order to shake off all the old-fashioned tram- HUGO'S "ANGELO." 273 mels which might encumber his genius, M. Hugo has composed his "Angelo" in prose, — prose such as old woraen love — (wicked old women I mean,) — lengthy, mystical, gossiping, and mischievous. I will give you some extracts ; and to save the trouble of describing the different characters, I will endeavour so to select these extracts that they shaU do it for me. Angelo Tyran de Padoue thus speaks of hiraself : — " Oui . . . . je suis le podesta que Venise met sur Padoue . . . . Et savez-vous ce que c'est que Venise ? . . . . C'est le conseil des dix. Oh ! le conseil des dix ! . . . . Souvent la nuit je me dresse sur raon seant, j'ecoute, et j'entends des pas dans mon mur .... Oui, c'est ainsi, Tyran de Padoue, esclave de Venise. Je suis bien sur- veilie, allez. Oh ! le conseil des dix !" This gentieraan has a young, beautiful, and particularly estimable wife, by name Catarina Bragadini, (which part is enacted on the boards of the Theatre Francais by Madame Dorval, from the Theatre de la Porte St. Martin,) but unfor tunately he hates her violently. He could not, however, as he philosophically observes himself, avoid doing so, and he shall again speak for him self to explain this. " ANGELO. " La haine c'est dans notre sang. II faut tou jours qu'un MaUpieri haisse quelqu'un. Moi, VOL. II. T 274 HUGO'S "ANGELO." c'est cette ferarae que je hais. Je ne vaux pas raieux qu'elle, c'est possible — raais il faut qu'elle raeure. C'est une necessite — une resolution prise." This necessity for hating does not, however, prevent the Podesta frora falling very violently in love with a stroUing actress called La Tisbe (per sonated by MaderaoiseUe Mars). The Tisbe also is a very reraarkably virtuous, araiable, and high- minded woraan, who listens to the addresses of the Tyrant pas doux, but hates hira as cordially as he hates his lady-wife, bestowing all her ten derness and private caresses upon a travelling gentleman, who is a prince in disguise, but whom she passes off upon the Tyrant for her brother. La Tisbe, too, shall give you her own account of herself. " LA TISBE (addressing Angelo). " Vous savez qui je suis ? . . . rien, une fille du peuple, une comedienne .... Eh bien ! si peu que je suis, j'ai eu une m^re, Savez-vous ce que c'est que d'avoir une m^re ? En avez-vous eu une, vous? .... Eh bien ! j'avais une mere, moi," This appears to be a species of refinement upon the old saying, " It is a wise child that knows its own father," The charming Tisbe evidently piques herself upon her sagacity in being quite certain that she had a mother; — but she has not yet finished her story. "Cetait une pauvre ferarae sans raari qui chantait HUGO'S "ANGELO," 275 des chansons dans les places pubUques," (The " de licate" Esmeralda again.) " Unjour, un senateur passa. II regarde, il entendit," (she must have been singing the Ca ira of 1549,) " et dit au capitaine qui le suivait — A la potence cette femme ! Ma mfere fut saisie sur-le-charap — elle ne dit rien ... a quoi bon? .... m'erabrassa avec une grosse larrae, prit son crucifix et se laissa garrotter. Je le vols encore ce crucifix en cuivre poli, raon nora Tisbe ecrit en bas Mais il y avait avec le senateur une jeune fille . . . , Elle se jeta aux pieds du senateur et obtint la grace de ma m6re Quand ma m^re fut deuee, elle prit son crucifix, raa mfere, et le donna a la beUe enfant, en lui disant, Madame, gardez ce crucifix — ^il vous portera bonheur." Iraagine Maderaoiselle Mars uttering this trash! .... Oh, it was grievous ! And if I do not greatly raistake, she admired her part quite as little as I did, though she exerted all her power to make it endurable, — and there were passages, certainly, in which she succeeded in making one forget every thing but herself, her voice, and her action. But to proceed. On this crucifix de cuivre poU, inscribed with the name of Tisbe, hangs all the Uttle plot. Catarina Bragadini, the wife of the Tyrant, and the raost ill-used and raeritorious of ladies, is introduced to us in the third scene of the second day (new style — acts are out of fashion,) laraenting to her confidential ferarae de chambre T 2 276 HUGO'S "ANGELO." the intolerable long absence of her lover. The maid listens, as in duty bound, with the most re spectful sympathy, and then tells her that another of her waiting-maids for whora she had inquired was at prayers. Whereupon we have a morsel of naivete that is impayable. " CATARINA. " Laisse-la prier. — Heias ! . . raoi, cela ne rae fait rien de prier !" This, I suspect, is what is called " the natural vein," in which consists the peculiar merit of this new style of writing. After this charming burst of natural feeling, the Podesta's virtuous lady goes on with her laraent. " CATARINA. " II y a cinq seraaines — cinq seraaines eternelles que je ne I'ai vu ! . . . . Je suis enfermee, gardee, en prison. Je le voyais une heure de tems en tems : cette heure si ^troite, et si vite fermee, c'e tait le seul soupirail * par ou entrait un peu d'air et de soleil dans ma vie. Maintenant tout est mure .... Oh Rodolpho ! . . . Dafne, nous avons passe, lui et raoi, de bien douces heures ! . . , Est-ce que c'est coupable tout ce que je dis Ik de lui ? Non, n'est-ce pas ?" Now you raust know, that this Signor Rodolpho plays the part of gallant to both these ladies, and, * Vent-hole. HUGO'S "ANGELO." 277 though intended by the author for another of his estiraable personages, is certainly, by his own show ing, as great a rascal as can well be imagined. He loves only the wife, and not the mistress of Angelo ; and though he permits her par complai sance tobe his mistress too, he addresses her upon one occasion, when she is giving way to a fit of iraraoderate fondness, with great sincerity. " RODOLPHO. " Prenez garde, Tisbe, ma famille est une fa mille fatale. II y a sur nous une prediction, une destinee qui s'accomplit presque inevitablement de pfere en fils. Nous tuons qui nous aime." From this passage, and one before quoted, it should seem, I think, that notwithstanding all the innovations of M. Hugo, he has stUl a lingering reverence for the immutable power of destiny which overhangs the classic draraa. How other wise can he explain these two mystic sentences? — " Ma famille est une famille fatale. II y a sur nous une destinee qui s'accomplit de pfere en fils." And this other : " La haine c'est dans notre sang : il faut toujours qu'un MaUpieri haisse quelqu'un." The only other character of importance is a very mysterious one called Homodei ; and I think I may best describe him in the words of the excel lent burlesque which has already been brought out upon this " Angelo" at the Vaudeville. There they make one of the. dramatis personae, when 278 HUGO'S "ANGELO." describing this very incomprehensible Homodei, say of him, — « C'est le plus grand dormeur de France et de Navarre." In effect, he far out-sleeps the dozing sentinels in the " Critic ;" for he goes on scene after scene sleeping apparently as sound as a top, tiU all on a sudden he starts up wide awake, and gives us to understand that he too is exceedingly in love with Madame la Podesta, but that he has been rejected. He therefore determines to do her as much mischief as possible, observing that " Un Shire (for such is his humble rank) qui airae est bien petit — vm Sbire qui se venge est bien grand." This great but rejected Sbire, however, is not contented with avenging hiraself on Catarina for her scorn, but is pushed, by his destiny, I presurae, to set the whole corapany together by the ears. He first brings Rodolpho into the bed-roora of Catarina, then brings the jealous Tisbe there to look at thera, and finally contrives that the Tyrant himself should find out his wife's little innocent love affair — for innocent she declares it is. Fortunately, during this unaccountable reunion in the charaber of Madarae, la Tisbe discovers that her raother the ballad-singer's crucifix is in the possession of her rival Catarina; whereupon she not only decides upon resigning her claim upon the heart of Signor Rodolpho in her favour, but determines upon saving her life from the fury of HUGO'S "ANGELO." 279 her jealous husband, who has comraunicated to the Tisbe, as we have seen above, his intention of killing his wife, because " il faut toujours qu'un MaUpieri haisse quelqu'un." Fortunately, again, it happens that the Tisbe has coraraunicated to her lover the Tyrant, in a former conversation, the reraarkable fact that another lover still had once upon a tirae made her a present of two phials — one black, the other white — one containing poison, the other a narcotic. After he has discovered Catarina's innocent weak ness for Rodolpho, he informs the Tisbe that the time is corae for hira to kill his lady, and that he intends to do it by cutting her head off privately. The Tisbe tells hira that this is a bad plan, and that poison would do rauch better. " ANGELO. " Oui ! Le poison vaudrait raieux. Mais il faudrait un poison rapide, et, vous ne me croirez pas, je n'en ai pas ici. " LA TISBE. " J'en ai, raoi. " ANGELO. "Oil? " LA TISBE. " Chez moi. " ANGELO. " Quel poison ? 280 HUGO'S "ANGELO." fl' " LA TISBE. " Le poison Malispine, vous savez : cette botte que m'a envoyee le primicier de Saint Marc." After this satisfactory explanation, Angelo ac cepts her offer, and she trots away horae and brings hira the phial containing the narcotic. The absurdity of the scene that takes place when Angelo and the Tisbe are endeavouring to persuade Catarina to consent to be killed is such, that nothing but transcribing the whole can give you an idea of it : but it is too long for this. Believe me, we were not the only part of the audience that laughed at this scene d gorge deployke. Angelo begins by asking if she is ready. " CATARINA. " Prete a quoi ? " ANGELO. " A mourir. " CATARINA. "... Mourir! Non, je ne suis pas prete. Je ne suis pas pr6te. Je ne suis pas prete du tout, monsieur ! " ANGELO. " Combien de teraps vous faut-il pour vous preparer ? " CATARINA. " Oh ! je ne sais pas — beaucoup de teraps !" HUGO'S "ANGELO. 281 Angelo teUs her she shall have an hour, and then leaves her alone : upon which she draws aside a curtain and discovers a block and an axe. She is naturally exceedingly shocked at this spec tacle ; her soliloquy is sublime ! " CATARINA {replacing the curtain), " Derrifere moi ! c'est derriere moi. Ah ! vous voyez bien que ce n'est pas un r^ve, et que c'est bien reel ce qui passe ici, puisque voila des choses Id derrihre le rideau!" Corneille ! Racine ! Voltaire ! — This is tragedy, — tragedy played on the stage ofthe Theatre Fran- ifais — tragedy which it has been declared in the face of day shaU " Uft the ground from under you !" Such is the march of mind ! After this glorious soliloquy, her lover Rodolpho pays Catarina a visit — again in her bed-room, in her guarded palace, surrounded by spies and sentinels. How he gets there, it is impossible to guess : but in the burlesque at the Vaudeville they make this matter much clearer ; — for there these unaccount able entr6es are managed at one time by the fall ing down of a wall ; at another, by the lover's rising through the floor Uke a ghost ; and at an other, by his coming flying down on a wire frora an opening in the ceiling Jike a Cupi d. The lovers have a long talk; but she does not tell him a word about the killing, for fear it 282 HUGO'S "ANGELO." should bring him into mischief, — though where he got in, it mights be easy enough for her to get out. However, she says nothing about " ks choses" behind the curtain, but gives him a kiss, and sends him away in high glee. No sooner does he disappear, than Angelo and the Tisbe enter, and a conversation ensues be tween the three on the manner of the doomed lady's death that none but M. Victor Hugo could have written. He would represent nature, and he makes a high-born princess, pleading for her life to a sovereign who is her husband, speak thus : " Parlous simplement. Tenez . . . vous etes infarae . . . . et puis, corarae vous mentez toujours, vous ne me croirez pas. Tenez, vraiment je vous rae- prise: vous ra'avez epousee pour mon argent. . ." Then she makes a speech to the Tisbe in the same exquisite tone of nature; with now and then a phrase or expression which is quite beyond even the fun of the Vaudeville to travestie ; as for instance — " Je suis toujours restee honnete — vous me comprenez, vous — mais je ne puis dire cela k mon mari. Les hommes ne veulent jamais nous croire, vous savez; cependant nous leur disons quelquefois des choses bien vraies. . . ." At last the Tyrant gets out of patience. " ANGELO. " Cen est trop ! Catarina Bragadina, le crirae fait, veut un ch&tiraent ; la fosse ouverte, veut HUGO'S "ANGELO." 283 un cercueil ; le raari outrage, veut une ferarae raorte. Tu perds toutes les paroles qui sortent de ta bouche (raontrant le poison). " Voulez vous, raadarae ? " CATARINA, " Non ! " ANGELO. " Non ? . . , J'en reviens k raa premiere idee alors. Les epees ! les epees ! Troilo ! qu'on aille me chercher . . . J'y vais !" Now we all know that his premiere idee was not to stab her with one or more swords, but to cut her head off on a block — and that les choses are all hid ready for it behind the curtain. But this "J'y vais" is part of the machinery of the fable ; for if the Tyrant did not go away, the Tisbe could have found no opportunity of giving her rival a hint that the poison was not so danger ous as she believed. So when Angelo returns, the Tisbe teUs him that " elle se resigne au poison." Catarina drinks the potion, falls into a trance, and is buried. (Victor Hugo is always original, they say.) The Tisbe digs her up again, and lays her upon a bed in her own house, carefuUy draw ing the curtains round her. Then comes the great catastrophe. The lover of the two ladies uses his privilege, and enters the Tisbe's apart- 284 HUGO'S "ANGELO. raent, determined to fulfil his destiny and raurder her, because she loves him — as written in the book of fate — and also because she has poisoned his other and his favourite love Catarina. The Signor Rodolpho knows that she brought the phial, be cause one of the maids told hira so : this is another instance of the ingenious and skilful machinery of the fable. Rodolpho teUs the poor woman what he is come for ; adding, " Vous avez un quart d'heure pour vous preparer a la raort, madame !" There is something in this which shows that M. Hugo, notwithstanding he has some odd de cousu notions, is aware of the respect which ought to be paid to married ladies, beyond what is due to those who are not so. When the Podesta announced the same intention to his wife, he says - — " Vous avez devant vous une heure, raadarae." At the Vaudeville, however, they give another turn to this variation in the tirae aUowed under circura stances so similar : they say — " Catarina eut une heure au moins de son mari : Le tems depuis tantot est done bien rencheri." The unfortunate Tisbe, on receiving this cora munication from her dear Rodolpho, exclaims — " Ah ! vous me tuez ! Ah ! c'est la premifere idee qui vous vient ?" Some farther conversation takes place between them. On one occasion he says — Uke a prince HUGO'S " ANGELO." 285 as he is — " Mentez un peu, voyons 1" — and then he assures her that he never cared a farthing for her, repeating very often, because, as he says, it is her supplice to hear it, that he never loved any body but Catarina. During the whole scene she ceases not, however, to reiterate her passionate protestations of love to him, and at last the dia logue ends by Rodolpho's stabbing her to the heart. I never beheld anything on the stage so utterly disgusting as this scene. That Maderaoiselle Mars felt weighed down by the part, I am quite certain ; — it was like watching the painful efforts of a beau tiful racer pushed beyond its power — distressed, yet showing its noble nature to the last. But even her exquisite acting made the matter worse : to hear the voice of Mars uttering expressions of love, while the ruffian she addresses grows more murderous as she grows more tender, pro duced an effect at once so hateful and so absurd, that one knows not whether to laugh or storm at it. But, what was the most terrible of all, was to see Mars exerting her raatchless powers to draw forth tears, and then to look round the house and see that she was rewarded by- — a sraile ! After Tisbe is stabbed, Catarina of course comes to life; and the whole farce concludes by the dying Tisbe's teUing the lovers that she had or- 286 Hugo's "angelo." dered horses for them ; adding tenderly, " Elle est deuee — (how?) — morte pour le podesta, vivante pour toi. Trouves-tu cela bien arrange ainsi?" Then Rodolpho says to Catarina, " Par qui as-tu ete sauvee ? " " LA TISBE (in reply). " Par moi, pour toi !" M. Hugo, in a note at the end of the piece, apologises for not concluding with these words — " Par moi, pour toi," which he seeras to think particularly effective : nevertheless, for sorae rea son which he does not very clearly explain, he concludes thus : — " LA TISBE. " Madame, permettez-moi de lui dire encore une fois, Mon Rodolpho. Adieu, mon Rodolpho ! partez vite k present. Je raeurs. Vivez. Je te benis ! " It is irapossible in thus running through the piece to give you any adequate idea of the loose, weak, trumpery style in which it is written. It really seems as if the author were deterrained to try how low he might go before the boys and grisettes who form the chorus of his admirers shaU find out that he is quizzing thera. One pecuUarity in the plot of " this fine tragedy" is, that the hero Angelo never appears, nor is even alluded to, after the scene in which he commis- Hugo's "angelo." 287 sions la Tisbe to adrainister the poison to Ma darae. His sudden disappearance is thus com mented upon at the Vaudeville. The Tyrant there makes his appearance after it is all over, exclaiming — " Je veux en fetre, moi . . . l'on osera peut-etre Finir un melodrame en absence du traitre ? Suis-je un hors-d'oeuvre, un inutile article, Une,cinquieme roue ajout^e au tricycle?" In the preface to this imraortal perforraance there is this passage : — " Dans retat oii sont aujourd'hui toutes ces ques tions profondes qui touchent aux racines mfeme de la society, il semblait depuis long-teras a lauteur de ce drame qu'il pourrait y avoir utilite et gran deur" (utility et grandeur !) " k d^velopper sur le th^dtre quelque chose de pareU k I'id^e que void " And then follows what he calls his idea : but this preface must be read frora beginning to end, if you wish to see what sort of stuff it is that hurabug and irapudence can induce the noisiest part pf a population to pronounce " fine ! " But you must hear one sentence more of this precious preface, for fear " the work" may not fall into your hands. " Le drame, comrae I'auteur de cet ouvrage le voudrait faire, doit donner k la foule une philo sophic ; aux id^es, une forraule ; k la poesie, des 288 HUGO'S "ANGELO." muscles, du sang, et de la vie ; k ceux qui pense, une explication desinteressee ; aux kraes alt^r^es un breuvage, aux plaies secretes un baurae — k chacun un conseil, a tous une loi." (!!!!) He concludes thus : — " Au sieele ou nous vivons, I'horizon de l'art est bien elargi. Autrefois le pofete disait, le public; aujourd'hui le po^te dit, le peuple," Is it possible to conceive affected subliraity and genuine nonsense carried farther than this ? Let us not, however, sit down with the belief that the capital of France is quite in the condition he describes ; — let us not receive it quite as gos pel that the raptures, the syrapathy of this " foule sympathique et eclairee," that he talks of, in his preface to "Angelo," as coming nightly to the theatre to do hira honour, exists — or at least that it exists beyond the very narrow liraits of his own clique. The men of France do not sympathise with Victor Hugo, whatever the boys may do. He has made himself a name, it is true, — but it is not a good one ; and in forming an estimate of the present state of literature in France, we shall greatly err if we assume as a fact that Hugo is an admired writer. I would not be unjustly severe on any one ; but here is a gentleman who in early life showed considerable ability ; — he produced sorae Ught pieces in verse, which are said to be written with HUGO'S " ANGELO." 289 good raoral feeling, and in a perfectly pure and correct literary taste. We have therefore a right to say that M. Hugo turned his talents thus against his fellow-creatures, not from ignorance — not from simple folly — but upon calculation. For is it possible to believe that any raan who has once shown by his writings a good moral feeling and a correct taste, can expose to the pub lic eye such pieces as " Lucr^ce Borgia," " Le Roi s'amuse," " Angelo," and the rest — in good faith, believing the doing so to be, as he says, " une tache sainte ?" Is this possible ? . . . and if it be not, what follows ? . . . . Why, that the author is raaking a job of corrupting huraan hearts and huraan intellects. He has found out that the mind of raan, particularly in youth, ea gerly seeks excitement of any kind : he knows that huraan beings will go to see their feUows hanged or guillotined by way of an arausement, and on this knowledge he speculates. But as the question relates to France, we have not hitherto treated it fairly. I am persuaded that had our stage no censorship, and were dra mas such as those of Dumas and Victor Hugo to be produced, they would fill the theatres at least as rauch as they do here. Their very absurdity — the horror — nay, even the disgust they in spire, is quite enough to produce this effect ; but it would be unwise to argue thence that VOL. II. u 290 MLLE. MARS AND MADAME DORVAL. such trash had becorae the prevailing taste of the people. That the speculation, as such, has been success ful, I have no doubt. This play, for instance, has been very generally talked of, and raany have gone to see it, not only on its own account, but in order to behold the novel spectacle of MaderaoiseUe Mars en lutte with an actress frora La Porte St. Martin. As for Madarae Dorval, I imagine she must be a very effective raelodraraatic performer when seen in her proper place; but, however it may have flattered her vanity, I do not think it can have added tO her fame to bring her into this dangerous competition. As an actress, she is, I think; to Mademoiselle Mars much what Victor Hugo is to Racine, — and perhaps we shall hear that she has " heaved the ground frora under her." Araong various stories floating about on the subject of the new play and its author, I heard one which carae frora a gentieraan who has long been in habits of intimacy with M. Hugo. He went, as in duty bound, to see the tragedy, and had imraediately afterwards to face his friend. The erabarrassraent of the situation required to be met by presence of raind and a coup de main : he showed hiraself, however, equal to the exigency ; he spoke not a word, but rushing towards the EPIGRAM ON VICTOR HUGO. 291 author, threw his arras round hira, and held him long in a close and silent erabrace. Another pleasantry on the sarae subject reach ed rae in the shape of four verses, which are cer tainly droll enough ; but I suspect that they must have been written in honour, not of "Angelo," but of sorae one of the tragedies in verse — " Le Roi s'arause," perhaps, for they mimic the harmony of sorae of the lines to be found there admi rably. " Oil, 6 Hugo ! huchera-t-on ton nom ? Justice encor rendu, que ne t'a-t-on ? Quand done au corps qu'academique on nomme, Grimperas-tu de roc en roc, rare liomme ?" And now farewell to Victor Hugo ! I proraise to trouble you with hira no raore ; but the conse quence which has been given to his narae in Eng land, has induced rae to speak thus fully of the estiraation in which I find him held in France. " Rare Homme !" u Sl 292 LETTER LXV. Boulevard des Italiens — Tortoni's. — Thunder-storm. — Church of the Madeleine. — Mrs. Butler's " Journal." All the world has been complaining of the tremendous heat of the weather here. The ther mometer stands at .... I forget what, for the scale is not ray scale ; but 1 know that the sun has been shining without mercy during the last week, and that all the world declare that they are baked. Of all the cities of the earth to be baked in, surely Paris is the best. I have been reading that beautiful story of George Sand's about no thing at all, called " Lavinia," and chose for ray study the deepest shade of the Tuileries Garden. If we could but have sat there all day, we should have felt no inconvenience from the sun, but, on the contrary, only have watched him frora hour to hour caressing the flowers, and trying in vain to find entrance for one of his beams into the delightful covert we had chosen : but there were people to be seen, and engagements to be kept ; and so here we are at home again, looking for ward to a large party for the evening ! BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS. 293 The Boulevard as we carae along was prettier than ever ; — stands of delicious flowers terapting one at every step — a rose, and a bud, and two bits of raignonette, and a sprig of rayrtle, for five sous ; but all arranged so elegantly, that the little bouquet was worth a dozen tied up less tastefully. I never saw so raany sitters in a raorning ; the people seemed as if they were reposing from neces sity — as if they sat because they could walk no farther. As we passed Tortoni's, we were amused by a group, consisting of a very pretty woman and a very pretty man, who were seated on two chairs close together, and flirting apparently very much to their own satisfaction ; while the third figure in the group, a little Savoyard, who had probably begun by asking charity, seemed spell bound, with his eyes fixed on the elegant pair as if studying a scene for the gaie science, of which, as he carried a mandoline, I presume he was a disciple. We were equally entertained by the pertinacious staring of the little minstrel, and the utter indifference to it raanifested by the objects of his admiration. A few steps farther, our eyes were again arrest ed by an exquisite, who had taken off his hat, and was deliberately combing his coal-black curls as he walked. In a brother beau, I doubt not he would have condemned such a degree of laisser- aller ; but in hiraself, it only served to relever the 294 BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS. beauty of his forehead and the general grace of his movements. I was glad that no fountain or lirapid lake Opened beneath his feet,— the fate of Narcissus would have been inevitable. Last night we had intended to raake a fareweU visit to the Feydeau,— Feydeau no longer, however, — to the Opera Coraique, I should say. But fortu nately we had not secured a box, and therefore enjoyed the privilege of changing our rainds,— a privilege ever dear, but in such weather as this inestiraable. Instead of going to the theatre, we reraained at horae till it began to grow dark and cool—cooler at least by sorae degrees, but stiU most lieavily sultry. We then sallied forth to eat ices at Tortoni's. AU Paris seemed to be asserabled upon the Boulevard to breathe: it was Uke a very crowded night at VauxhaU, and hundreds of chairs seemed to have sprung up frora the ground to raeet the exigences of the raoraent, for double rows of sitters occupied each side of the pave raent, Frenchworaen are so very lovely in their even ing walking-dress, that I would rather see thera thus than when full-dressed at parties, A draw ing-roora full of elegantly-dressed woraen, all look ing prepared for a bal pare, is no unusual sight for English eyes ; but truth obliges me to confess that it would be in vain at any imaginable even ing promenade in London to look for such a spec- Drawn Jc E tched by A.Ser.'' eu. BO0L1EVAI8.U) JDES lTA]LIEI3'S, ijjiidon.PuTDlished 'tjy Rickard Bentley 1836. EFFECT OF AN EVENING PROMENADE, 295 tacle as the Italian Boulevard showed us last night. It is the strangest thing in the world that it should be so — for it is certain that neither the bonnets, nor the pretty faces they shelter, are in any way inferior in England to any that can be seen elsewhere ; but Frenchworaen have raore the habit and the knack of looking elegantly- dressed without being full-dressed. It is irapos sible to enter into detail in order to explain this — nothing less skilful than a milliner could do this ; and I think that even the raost skilful of the profession would not find it easy: I can only state the fact, that the general effect of an evening promenade in Paris is more elegant than it is in London, We were fortunate enough to secure the places of a large party that were leaving a window in the upper room at Tortoni's as we entered it: and here again is a scene as totally un-English as that of a restaurant in the Palais Royal. Both the rooms above, as well as those below, were quite full of gay company, each party sitting round their own little marble table, with the large carafe of ice — for so it may well be called, for it only melts as you want it — the very sight of which, even if you venture not to drain a draught frora the slowly yielding raass, creates a feeling of delicious coldness. Then the incessant entrees of party-coloured pyraraids, with their accompani- 296 A STORM. ment of gaufres, — the brilliant light within, the huraraing crowd without, — the refreshing coolness of the deUcate regale, and the Ught gaiety which all the world seem to share at this pleasant hour of perfect idleness, — all are incontestably French, and, more incontestably still, not English, WhUe we were stiU at our window, amused by all within and all without, we were started by some sharp flashes of hghtning which began to break through a heavy cloud of raost portentous blackness that I had been for sorae tirae adrairing, as forming a beautiful contrast to the blaze of light on the Boulevard. No rain was as yet fall ing, and I proposed to my party a walk towards the Madeleine, which I thought would give us some fine effects of light and darkness on such a night as this. The proposal was eagerly accept ed, and we wandered on tUl we left the crowd and the gas behind us. We walked to the end of the Rue Royale, and then turned round slowly and gradually to approach the church. The effect was infinitely finer than anything 1 had anticipated : the moon was only a few days past the full ; and even when hid behind the heavy clouds that were gathering together as it seemed from all parts of the sky, gave light enough for us dimly, yet distinctly, to discern the vast and beautiful proportions of the raagnificent portico. It looked like the pale spectre of a Grecian CHURCH OF THE MADELEINE. 297 temple. With one accord we all paused at the point where it was raost perfectly and raost beau tifully visible ; and I assure you, that with the heavy orainous mass of black clouds above and behind it — with the faint Ught of the " inconstant moon," now for a moment brightly visible, and now wholly hid behind a driving doud, reflected from its columns, it was the most beautiful object of art that I ever looked at. It was sorae tirae before we could resolve to leave it, quite sure as we were that it never could be our chance to behold it in such per fection again ; and while we stayed, the storra advanced rapidly towards us, adding the distant rurabling of its angry voice to enhance the ef fect of the spectacle. Yet still we lingered ; and wei^e rewarded for our courage by seeing the whole of the vast edifice burst upon our sight in such a blaze of sudden brightness, that when it passed away, I thought for an instant that I was struck blind. Another flash followed — an other and another. The spectacle was glori ous ; but the danger of being drenched to the skin became every moment more imminent, and we hastily retreated to the Boulevard. As we emerged from the gloom of the Madeleine Boule vard to the glaring gas-light from the cafes which illuminated the Italian, it seemed as if we had got into another atmosphere and another world. 298 VANISHING OF A CROWD. No rain had as yet fallen ; and the crowd, thicker than ever, were still sitting and lounging about, apparently unconscious of the watery danger which threatened thera. So great is the force of ex araple, that, before we got to the end of the pro- raenade, we seeraed unconscious of it too, for we turned with the rest. But we were soon punished for our folly : the dark canopy burst asunder, and let down upon us as pelting a shower as ever drove feathers and flowers, and ribbons and gauze, to every point of the corapass in search of shelter. I have soraetiraes wondered at the short space of tirae it required to clear a crowded theatre of its guests ; but the vanishing of the crowd from the Boulevard was more rapid still. What became of them all. Heaven knows ; but they seeraed to melt and dissolve away as the rain fell upon them. We took shelter in the Passage de I'Opera ; and after a few rainutes the rain ceased, and we got safely horae. In the course of our excursion we encounter ed an English friend, who returned home with us ; and thotlgh it was eleven o'clock, he looked neither shocked nor surprised when I ordered tea, but even consented to stay and partake of it with us. Our tea-table gossip was concerning a book that all the world — all the EngUsh world at least — had been long eagerly looking for, and which we had received two days before. Our MRS. butler's " JOURNAL." 299 English friend had raade it his travelling-cora- panion, and having just completed the perusal of it, could talk of nothing else. This book was Mrs. Butler's " Journal." Happily for the tran quillity of our tea-table, we were all perfectly well agreed in opinion respecting it : for, by his ac count, parties for and against it have been run ning very strong amongst you. I confess I heard this with astonishraent ; for it appears to rae that all that can be said against the book lies so cora pletely on the surface, that it raust be equally visible to all the world, and that nobody can fail to perceive it. But these obvious defects once acknowledged — and they raust be acknowledged by all, I should have thought that there was no possibiUty left for rauch difference of opinion, — I should have thought the genius of its author would then have carried all before it, leaving no one suffidently cold-blooded and reasonable to reraernber that it contained any faults at all. It is certainly possible that ray farailiarity with the scenes she describes raay give her spirited sketches a charra and a value in ray eyes that they may not have for those who know not their truth. But this is not all their merit : the glow of feeling, the warra eloquence, the poetic fervour with which she describes all that is beautiful, and gives praise to all that is good, raust raake its way to every heart, and inspire every imagina- 300 MRS. BUTLER'S " JOURNAL." tion with power to appreciate the graphic skill of her descriptions even though they raay have no power to judge of their accuracy. I have been one araong those who have deeply regretted the loss, the bankruptcy, which the stage has sustained in the tragic branch of its business by the secession of this lady : but her book, in ray opinion, demonstrates such extra ordinary powers of writing, that I am willing to flatter myself that we shall have gained even tually rather than lost by her having forsaken a profession too fatiguing, too exhausting to the spirits, and necessarily occupying too rauch tirae, to have permitted her doing what now we may fairly hope she will do, — namely, devote herself to literature. There are sorae passages of her hastily- written, and too hastily-published journal, which evidently indicate that her mind was at work upon coraposition. She appears to judge herself and her own efforts so severely, that, when speaking of the scenes of an unpublished tragedy, she says " they are not bad," — which is, I think, the phrase she uses : I feel quite persuaded that they are admirable, Then again she says, " Began writ ing a novel ..." I would that she would finish it too! — and as I hold it to be impossible that such a raind as hers can reraain inactive, I cora fort rayself with the belief that we shall soon again receive sorae token of her English recol- MRS. butler's " JOURNAL." 301 lections handed to us across the Atlantic. That her next production wiU be less faulty than her last, none can doubt, bec'ause the bleraishes are exactly of a nature to be found in the journal of a heedless young traveller, who having caught, in passing, a multitude of unseemly phrases, puts thera forth in jest, unmindful — rauch too un raindful certainly — of the risk she ran that they raight be fixed upon her as her own genuine individual style of expression. But we have only to read those passages where she certainly is not jesting — where poetry, feeling, goodness, and piety glow in every line — to know what her language is 'when she is in earnest. On these occasions her power of expression is worthy of the thoughts of which it is the vehicle, — and I can give it no higher praise. 302 LETTER LXVI. A pleasant Party. — Discussion between an Englishman and a Frenchman. — National Peculiarities. I TOLD you yesterday that, notwithstanding the treraendous heat of the weather, we were going to a large party in the evening. We courage ously kept the engageraent; though, I assure you, I did it in trembling. But, to our equal surprise and satisfaction, the rooras of Mrs, M proved to be deliciously cool and agreeable. Her re ceiving-apartment consists of three rooms. The first was surrounded and decorated in all pos sible ways with a profusion of the most beauti ful flowers, intermixed with so many large glass vases for gold fish, that I ara sure the air was rauch cooled by evaporation frora the water they contained. This roora was lighted wholly by a large larap suspended frora the ceiling, which was enclosed in a sort of gauze globe, just sufficiently thick to prevent any painful glare of light, but not enough so to injure the beautiful effect al ways produced by the illuraination of flowers. The large croisees were thrown open, with very A PLEASANT PARTY. 303 slight rauslin curtains over thera ; and the whole effect of the roora — its cool atraosphere, its deli cious fragrance, and its subdued Ught — was so enchanting, that it was not without difficulty we passed on to pay our corapliraents to Mrs, M , who was in a larger but much less fascinating apartment. There were raany French persons present, but the raajority of the corapany was English. Hav ing looked about us a little, we retreated to the fishes and the rayrtles ; and as there was a very handsome man singing buffa songs in one of the other rooras, with a score of very handsome wo men looking at and listening to him, the raulti tude asserabled there ; and we had the extrerae felicity of finding fresh air and a sofa a notre dis position, with the additional satisfaction of ac cepting or refusing ices every time the trays paraded before us. You will believe that we were not long left without companions, in a position so every way desirable : and in truth we soon had about us a select coraraittee of superlatively agreeable people ; and there we sat till considerably past raidnight, with a degree of enjoyraent which rarely belongs to hours devoted to a very large party in very hot weather. And what did we talk about? — I think it would be easier to enuraerate the subjects we did not touch upon than those we did. Every- 304 A PLEASANT PARTY. body seemed to think that it would be too fa tiguing to run any therae far ; and so, rather in the style of idle, parapered lap-dogs, than of spi rited pointers and setters, we araused ourselves by skittishly pursuing whatever was started, just as it pleased us, and then turned round and re posed till something else darted into view. The whole circle, consisting of seven persons, were English with the exception of one ; and that one was — he must excuse rae, for I will not name hira — that one was a raost exceedingly clever and superlatively agreeable young Frenchman. As we had snarled and snapped a little here and there in sorae of our garabols after the va rious objects which had passed before us, this young raan suggested the possibility of his being de trop in the coterie. " Are you not g^nes," said he, " by my being here to listen to all that you and yours raay be disposed to say of us and ours? . . . Shall I have the amiability to depart ?" A general and decided negative was put upon this proposition ; but one of the party moved an amendment. " Let us," said he, " agree to say everything respecting France and the French with as much unreserve as if you were on the top of Notre Darae ; and do you, who have been for three raonths in England, treat us exactly in the same manner ; and see what we shall make A CHALLENGE. 305 of each other. We are all much too languid to suffer our patriotism to raount up to ' spirit-boil,' and so there is no danger whatever that we should quarrel." " I would accept the partie instantly," said the Frenehraan, " were it not so unequal. But six to one ! ... is not this too hard ?" " No ! ... not the' least in the world, if we take it in the quizzing vein," replied the other; " for it is well known that a Frenchman can out-quiz six Englishmen at any time." " Eh bien !" . . . said the complaisant Parisian with a sigh, " I will do my best. Begin, ladies, if you please." " No ! no ! no !" exclaimed several female voices in a breath ; " we will have nothing to do with it ; fight it out between yourselves : we will be the judges, and award the honours of the field to him who hits the hardest." " This is worse and worse," cried our laughing enemy : " if this be the arrangeraent of the cora bat, the judgraent, a coup sur, will be given against rae. How can you expect such blind confidence frora me ?" We protested against this attack upon our justice, promised to be as impartial as Jove, and desired the champions to enter the lists. " So then," said the EngUshraan, " I ara to VOL. 11. X 306 CONTEST BETWEEN enact the part of St. George . . . and God defend the right !" " And I, that of St. Denis," replied the Freneh raan, his right hand upon his breast and his left gracefuUy sawing the air. " Mon bras . . . non . . . ' Ma langue, k ma patrie^ Mon cceur a mon amie, Mourir gaiement pour la gloire et I'amour, C'est la devise d'un vaillant troubadour.' AUons ! . . . Now tell me, St. George, what say you in defence of the English mode of suffering ladies — the ladies of Britain — the raost lovely ladies in the world, n'est-ce pas ? — to rise from table, and leave the roora, and the gentleraen — alone — with down cast eyes and timid step — without a single preux chevalier to offer thera his protection or to bear thera company on their melancholy way — banish ed, turned out — exiled frora the banquet-board ! — I protest to you that I have suffered raartyrdora when this has happened, and I, for ray sins, been present to witness it. Croyez-moi, I would have joyfully submitted to make my exit k quatre pattes, so I might but have followed them. Ah ! you know not what it is for a Frenchman to re raain still, when forced to behold such a spectacle as this ! . . . Alas ! I felt as if I had disgraced myself for life ; but I was more than spell-bound — I was promise-bound; the friend who accora panied me to the party where I witnessed this AN ENGLISHMAN AND A FRENCHMAN. 307 horror had previously told rae what I should have to endure — I did endure it — but I have not yet forgiven rayself for participating in so outrage ous a barbarisra." " The gentlemen only remain to drink the fair ladies' health," said our St. George very coolly ; " and I doubt not all ladies would tell you, did they speak sincerely, that they were heartily glad to get rid of you for half an hour or so. You have no idea, my good fellow, what an agreeable interlude this makes for thera : they drink coffee, sprinkle their fans with esprit de rose, refresh their wit, repair their srailes, and are ready to set off again upon a fresh campaign, certain of fresh conquests. But what can St. Denis say in defence of a French man who makes love to three women at once — as I positively declare I saw you do last night at the Opera?" "You mistook the matter altogether, mon cher ; I did not raake love — I only offered adoration: we are bpund to adore the whole sex, and all the petits soins offered in public are but the ceremo nies of this our national worship .... We never raake love in public, ray dear friend — ce n'est pas dans nos moeurs. But wiU you explain to rae un peu, why EngUshraen indulge theraselves in the very extraordinary habit of taking their wives to raarket with that vilaine corde au cou that it is so dreadful to raention, and there sell X 2 308 CONTEST BETWEEN thera for the raesquine sorame de trois francs ? . . , Ah ! be very sure that were there a single Freneh raan present at your terrible Sraithfield when this happened, he would buy thera aU up, and give them their liberty at once," The St, George laughed — but then replied very' gravely, that the custora was a very useful one, as it enabled an Englishman to get rid of a wife as soon as he found that she was not worth keep ing, " But will you tell me," he continued, " how it is that you can be so inhuraan as to take your innocent young daughters and sisters, and dispose of them as if they were Virginian slaves born on your estates, to the best bidder, without ask ing the charraing little creatures theraselves one single word concerning their sentiraents on the subject ?" " We are too careful of our young daughters and sisters," replied the champion of France, " not to provide them with a suitable alliance and a proper protector before they shall have run the risk of raaking a less prudent selection for thera selves : but, what can put it into the heads of EngUsh parents to send out whole ship-loads of young English deraoiseUes — si belles qu'elles sont ! — to the other side of the earth, in order to provide them with husbands ?" Our knight paused for a moraent before he an- AN ENGLISHMAN AND A FRENCHMAN, 309 swered, and I believe we aU shook for hira ; but at length he replied very sententiously — " When nations spread their conquests to the other side of the earth, and send forth their gene rals and their judges to take and to hold pos session for them, it is fitting that their distant honours should be shared by their fair country women. But will you explain to me why it is that the venerable grandmothers of France think it necessary to figure in a contre-danse — nay, even in a waltz, as long as they think that they have strength left to prevent their falling on their noses ? " " ' Vive la bagatelle !' is the first lesson we learn in our nurses' arms — and Heaven forbid we should any of us live long enough to forget it !" answered the Frenchman. " But if the question be not too in discreet, will you tell me, most glorious St. George, in what school of philosophy it was that English raen learned to seek satisfaction for their wounded honour in the receipt of a sura of raoney frora the lovers of their wives ?" " Most puissant St. Denis," replied the knight of England, " I strongly recoraraend you not to touch upon any therae connected with the mar_ riage state as it exists in England ; because I opine that it would take you a longer time to coraprehend it than you may have leisure to 310 CONTEST BETWEEN give. It will not take you so long perhaps to inform rae how it happens that so gay a people as the French, whose first lesson, as you say, is ' Vive la bagatelle !' should raake so frequent a practice as they do of inviting either a friend or a raistress to enjoy a t6te-^-t^te over a pan of charcoal, with doors, windows, and vent-holes of all kinds carefully sealed, to prevent the least possible chance that either should survive ?" " It has arisen," replied the Frenehraan, " frora our great intiraaey with England — where the month of November is passed by one half of the population in hanging themselves, and by the other half in cutting thera down. The charcoal sys tera has been an atterapt to improve upon your insular mode of proceeding ; and I believe it is, on the whole, considered preferable. But raay I ask you in what reign the law was passed which permits every Englishman to beat his wife with a stick as large as his thurab ; and also whether the law has raade any provision for the case of a raan's hav ing the gout in that raeraber to such a degree as to swell it to twice its ordinary size ? " " It has been decided by a jury of physicians," said our able advocate, " that in all such qases of gout, the decrease of strength is in exact proportion to the increase of size in the pattern thurab, and therefore no especial law has passed our senate concerning its possible variation. As AN ENGLISHMAN AND A FRENCHMAN. 311' to the law itself, there is not a woraan in Eng land who wiU not tell you that it is as laudable as it is venerable." " The woraen of England raust be angels !" cried the eharapion of France, suddenly starting frora his chair and clasping his hands together with energy, — " angels ! and nothing else, or " (looking round hira) " they could never smile as you do now, while tyranny so terrible was discussed be fore thera ! " What the St. Denis thus politely called a sraile, was in effect a very hearty laugh — which really and bona fide seemed to puzzle him, as to the feeling which gave rise to it. "I will tell you of what you all reraind me at this moraent," said he, reseating himself : " Did you ever see or read ' Le Medecin malgre Lui ' ?" We answered in the affirmative. " Eh bien ! ... do you remember a certain scene in which a certain good man enters a house whence have issued the cries of a woman grievously beaten by her husband ?" We aU nodded assent. " Eh bien ! . . . and do you remeraber how it is that Martine, the beaten wife, receives the in tercessor? — ' Et je veux qu'il me hatte, raoi.' Voyez-vous, raesdaraes, I ara that pitying indi vidual — that kind-hearted M. Robert ; and you — you are every one of you raost perfect Martines." 312 THE frenchman's SUBMISSION. "You are positively getting angry. Sir Chara- pion," said one of the ladies : " and if that happens, we shall incontestably declare you van quished." " Nay, I ara vanquished — I yield — I throw up the partie — I see clearly that I know nothing about the raatter. What I conceived to be national barbarisras, you evidently cling to as national pri vileges. AUons ! . . . je rae rends !" " We have not given any judgraent, however," said I. " But perhaps you are raore tired than beaten ? — ^you only want a little repose, and you will then be ready to start anew." " Non ! absoluraent non ! — but I will willingly change sides, and tell you how greatly I admire England. . . ." The conversation then started off in another direction, and ceased not till the number of parties who passed us in making their exit roused us at length to the necessity of leaving our flowery re treat, and raaking ours also. 313 LETTER LXVII. Chamber of Deputies. — Punishment of Journalists.— Insti tute for the Encouragement of Industry .^Men of Genius. Of all the ladies in the world, the English, I believe, are the raost anxious to enter a represen tative charaber. The reason for this is sufficiently obvious, — they are the only ones who are denied this privilege in their own country; though I be lieve that they are in general rather disposed to consider this exclusion as a corapliraent, inasrauch as it evidently manifests soraething like a fear that their conversation raight be found sufficiently attractive to draw the Solons and Lycurguses from their duty. But however well they may be disposed to subrait to the privation at horae, it is a certain fact that English woraen dearly love to find them selves in a legislative assembly abroad. There certainly is something raore than coraraonly ex citing in the interest inspired by seeing the raoral strength of a great people collected together, and in the act of exerting their judgraent and their power for the well-being and safety of railUons. I 314 CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES. suspect, however, that the subliraity of the spec tacle would be considerably lessened by a too great farailiarity with it; and that if, instead of being occasionally hoisted outside a lantern to catch an uncertain sight and a broken sound of what was passing within the teraple, we were in the constant habit of being ushered into so cora raodious a tribune as we occupied yesterday at the Charaber of Deputies, we might soon cease to experience the sort of reverence with which we looked down frora thence upon the collected wis dora of France. Nothing can be raore agreeable than the arrange raent of this charaber for spectators. The gal leries coramand the whole of it perfectly ; and the orator of the hour, if he can be heard by any one, cannot fail of being heard by those who occupy them. Another peculiar advantage for strangers is, that the position of every member is so distinctly raarked, that you have the satisfaction of knowing at a glance where to find the brawling republican, the raelancholy legitimatist, and the active doctri naire. The ministers, too, are as much distin guished by their place in the Chamber as in the Red Book, (or whatever may be the distinctive symbol of that iraportant record here,) and by giving a franc at the entrance, for a sort of raap that they call a " Table figurative" of the Charaber, you know the name and constituency of every member present. PUNISHMENT OF JOURNALISTS. 315 This greatly increases the interest felt by a stranger. It is very agreeable to hear a raan speak with fervour and eloquence, let hira be who he may ; but it enhances the pleasure prodigiously to know at the sarae tirae who and what he is. If he be a rainister, every word has either more or less weight according ... to circumstances ; and if he be in opposition, one is also more au fait as to the positive value of his sentiments frora being acquainted with the fact. The business before the house when we were there was stirring and interesting enough. It was on the subject of the fines and imprisonraent to be iraposed on those journalists who had outraged law and decency by their inflararaatory pubUca tions respecting the trials going on at the Luxera bourg. — General Bugeaud made an exceUent speech upon the abuse of the freedom of the press; a subject which certainly has given birth to more " cant," properly so called, than any other I know of. To so strange an extent has this been car ried, that it really requires a considerable portion of moral courage to face the question fairly and honestly, and boldly to say, that this unrestrict ed power, which has for years been dwelt upon as the greatest blessing which can be accorded to the people, is in truth a raost fearful evU. If this unrestricted power had been advocated only by demagogues and malcontents, the difficulties respecting the question would be slight indeed. 316 ABUSE OF THE compared to what they are at present ; but so many good raen have pleaded for it, that it is only with the greatest caution, and the strongest convic tion frora the result of experience, that the law should interfere to restrain it. Nothing, in fact, is so plausible as the sophistry with which a young enthusiast for liberty seeks to show that the unrestrained exercise of intellect must not only be the birthright of every man, but that its exercise raust also of necessity be benefi cial to the whole huraan race. How easy is it to talk of the loss which the ever-accuraulating raass of huraan knowledge raust sustain from stopping by the strong hand of power the diffusion of specu lation and experience ! How very easy is it to paint in odious colours the tyranny that would check the divine efforts of the imraortal raind ! — And yet it is as clear as the bright light of hea ven, that not all the sufferings which all the tyrants who ever cursed the earth have brought on raan can corapare to those which the raalign influence of an unchecked press is calculated to inflict upon hira. The influence of the press is unquestionably the raost awful engine that Providence has perraitted the hand of raan to wield. If used for good, it has the power of raising us higher in the intellectual scale than Plato ever drearaed ; but if employed for evil, the Prince of Darkness raay throw down LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 317 his arms before its unmeasured strength — he has no weapon like it. What are the temptations — the seductions of the world which the zealous preacher deprecates, which the watchful parent dreads, corapared to the corruption that may glide like an envenomed snake into the bosora of innocence from this in sidious agency ? Where is the retreat that can be secured from it ? Where is the shelter that can baffle its assaults ? — Blasphemy, treason, and debauchery are licensed by the act of the legisla ture to do their worst upon the raorals of every people araong whora an unrestricted press is esta blished by law. Surely, but perhaps slowly, will this truth becorae visible to all men : and if society still hangs together at all, our grandchildren will pro bably enjoy the blessing without the curse of knowledge. The head of the serpent has been bruised, and therefore we may hope for this, — but it is not yet. The discussions in the Charaber on this ira portant subject, not only yesterday, but on seve ral occasions since the question of these fines has been started, have been very aniraated and very interesting. Never was the right and the wrong in an arguraent raore ably brought out than by sorae of the speeches on this business : and, on the other hand, never did effrontery go farther than 318 M. RASPAIL. in sorae of the defences which have been set up for the accused gerans of the journals in ques tion. For instance, M. Raspail expresses a very grave astonishment that the Charaber of Peers, instead of objecting to the liberties which have been taken with them, do not rather return thanks for the useful lesson they have received. He states too in this same defence, as he is pleased to call it, that the conductors of the " Reformateur" have adopted a resolution to pub Ush without restriction or alteration every article addressed to them by the accused parties or their defenders. This resolution, then, is to be pleaded as an excuse for whatever their columns may contain ! The concluding argument of this de fence is put in the form of a declaration, pur porting that whoever dooms a fellow-creature to the horrors of imprisonraent ought to undergo the sarae punishraent for the terra of twenty years as an expiation of the crime. This is logical. There is a tone of vulgar, insolent defiance in all that is recorded of the manner and language adopted by the partisans of these Lyons prisoners, which gives what must, I think, be considered as very satisfactory proof that the party is not one to be greatly feared. After the vote had passed the Chamber of Peers for bringing to account the persons who subscribed the protest against ENCOURAGEMENT OF INDUSTRY. 319 their proceedings, two individuals who were not included in this vote of reprobation sent in a written petition that they might be so. What was the official answer to this piece of bravado, or whether it received any, I know not ; but I was told that sorae one present proposed that a reply should be returned as foUows : — " The court regrets that the request cannot be gr-anted, inasmuch as the sentence has been al ready passed on those whom it concerned ; — but that if the gentleraen wished it, they might per haps contrive to get theraselves included in the next indictraent for treason." In the evening we went to the Institute for the encourageraent of Industry. The raeeting was held in the Salle St. Jean, at the H6tel de Ville. It was extremely full, and was altogether a dis play extremely interesting to a stranger. The speeches made by several of the merabers were in excellently good taste and extreraely to the pur pose : I heard nothing at all approaching to that popular strain of eloquence which has prevailed of late so rauch in England upon all similar occa sions, — nothing that looked like an atterapt to baraboozle the respectable citizens of the raetro poiis into the belief that they were considered by wise raen as belonging to the first class in society. 320 FRENCH AND ENGLISH MECHANICS, The speeches were admirably calculated to ex cite ingenuity, emulation, and industry ; and I really beUeve that there was not a single word of nonsense spoken on the occasion. Several in genious iraproveraents and inventions were dis played, and the ineeting was considerably egaye by two or three pieces exceedingly well played on a piano-forte of an iraproved construction. Many prizes were bestowed, and received, with that sort of genuine pleasure which it is so agree able to witness ; — but these were all for useful iraproveraents in sorae branch of practical rae chanics, and not, as I saw by the newspapers had recently been the case at a sirailar meeting in London, for essays ! One of the prize com positions was, as I perceived, " The best Essay on Education," from the pen of a young bell- hanger ! Next year, perhaps, the best essay on medicine raay be produced by a young tinker, or a gold raedal be awarded to Betty the house- raaid for a digest of the laws of the land. Our long-boasted coraraon sense seeras to have emi grated, and taken up "its abode here ; for, spite of their recent revolution, you hear of no such stuff on this side the water ; — mechanics are mechanics stiU, and though they some of them make theraselves exceeding busy in politics, and discuss their different kings with rauch energy over a bottle of sraall wine, I have not yet heard RECOMPENSE AWARDED TO GENIUS. 321 of any of the " operative classes" throwing aside their files and their hararaers to write essays. This queer raixture of occupations rerainds rae of a conversation I listened to the other day upon the best manner in which a nation could recom pense and encourage her literary men. One Eng lish gentleman, with no great enthusiasra of man ner or expression, quietly observed that he thought a moderate pension, sufficient to prevent the mind frora being painfully driven frora speculative to practical difficulties, would be the most fitting recompense that the country could offer. " Is it possible you can really think so, ray dear sir ?" replied another, who is an araateur, and a connoisseur, and a bel esprit, and an an tiquary, and a fiddler, and a critic, and a poet. " I own my ideas on the subject are very dif ferent. Good God ! . . . . what a reward for a man of genius ! . . . Why, what would you do for an old nurse ?" " I would give her a pension too," said the quiet gentleman. " I thought so ! " retorted the man of taste. " And do you really feel no repugnance in placing the imraortal efforts of genius on a par with rock ing a few babies to sleep? — Fie on such philo sophy !" " And what is the recorapense which you would VOL. II. Y 322 RECOMPENSE AWARDED TO GENIUS. propose, sir ? " inquired the advocate for the pension. "I, sir? — I would give the first offices and the first honours of the state to our men of genius : by so doing, a country ennobles itself in the face ofthe whole earth." " Yes, sir . . . But the first offices of the state are attended with a good deal of trouI)lesorae business, which raight, I think, interfere with * the intellectual labour you wish to encourage. I should really be very sorry to see Dr. Southey raade secretary-at-war, — and yet he deserves sorae thing of his country too." "A man of genius, sir, deserves everything of his country ... It is not a paltry pension can pay hira. He should be put forward in parlia ment ... he should be . . ." " I think, sir, he should be put at his ease : depend upon it, this would suit him better than being returned knight of the shire for any county in England." " Good Heaven, sir !" . . . resumed the enthu siast ; but he looked up and his opponent was gone. 323 LETTER LXVIII. Walk to the Marche des Innocens. — Escape of a Canary Bird.-^A Street Orator. — Burying-place of the Victims of July. I MUST give you to-day an account of the ad ventures I have encountered in a course d pied to the Marche des Innocens. You raust know that there is at one of the corners of this said Marche a shop sacred to the ladies, which debits all those unclassable articles that corae under the corapre hensive terra of haberdashery, — a term, by the way, which was once interpreted to me by a celebrated etyraologist of ray acquaintance to signify " avoir d'acheter." My raagasin " k la Mere de FaraiUe" in the Marche des Innocens fuHy deserves this description, for there are few female wants in which it fails to " avoir d'ache ter." It was to this compendiura of utilities that I was notably proceeding when I saw before rae, exactly on a spot that I was obliged to pass, a throng of people that at the first glance I really thought was a prodigious mob ; but at the second, I confess that they shrank and dwindled consider- Y 2 324 ALARMING ASSEMBLAGE ably. Nevertheless, it looked ominous ; and as I was alone, I felt a much stronger inclination to turn back than to proceed. I paused to decide which I should do; and observing, as I did so, a very respectable-looking woraan at the door of a shop very near the turault, I ventured to address an inquiry to her respecting the cause of this un wonted asserabling of the people in so peaceable a part of the town ; but, unfortunately, I used a phrase in the inquiry which brought upon rae more evident quizzing than one often gets from the civil Parisians. My words, I think, were, — " Pourriez-vous me dire, raadarae, ce que signi- fie tout ce raonde ? . . . Est-ce qu'il y a quelque raouveraent ?" This unfortunate word mouvement amused her infinitely ; for it is in fact the phrase used in speaking of all the real political hubbubs that have taken place, and was certainly on this oc casion as ridiculous as if sorae one, on seeing forty or fifty people collected together around a pick pocket or a broken-down carriage in London, were to gravely inquire of his neighbour if the crowd he saw indicated a revolution, " Mouvement !" she repeated with a very speak ing smile : " est-ce que raadarae est effrayee ? . , . Mouveraent . . . oui, madame, il y a beaucoup de mouvement ; raais cependant c'est sans raouve raent . , , C'est tout bonneraent le petit serin de OF THE PEOPLE, 325 la raarchande de raodes 1^ bas qui vient de s'en- voler. Je puis vous assurer la chose," she added, laughing, " car je I'ai vu partir," " Is that aU ?" said I, « Is it possible that the escape of a bird can have brought aU these people together?" " Oui, raadarae, rien autre chose , , , Mais re gardez — voilk les agens de police qui s'approchent pour voir ce que c'est — Us en saisissent un, je crois. . , , Ah ! Us ont une raaniere si etonnante de re connaitre leur raonde !" This last hint quite decided my return, and I thanked the obliging bonnetiere for her com raunications, " Bonjour, raadarae," she replied with a very raystifying sort of smile, — "bonjour; soyez tran- quille — il n'y a pas de danger d'un mouvement." I am quite sure she was the wife of a doctri naire ; for nothing affronts the whole party, from the highest to the lowest, so much as to breathe a hint that you think it possible any riot should arise to disturb their dear tranquillity. On this occasion, however, I really had no such raatter in my thoughts, and sinned only by a blunder ing phrase, I returned home to look for an escort; and having enlisted one, set forth again for the Marche des Innocens, which I reached this time without any other adventure than being splashed twice. 326 A STREET ORATOR, and nearly run over thrice. Having raade my purchases, I was setting ray face towards horae again, when ray companion proposed that we should go across the market to look at the raonu ments raised over sorae half-dozen or half-score of revolutionary heroes who fell and were buried on a spot at no great distance frora the fountain, on the 29th July 1830, When we reached the little enclosure, we re marked a raan, who looked, I thought, very much like a printer's devil, leaning against the rail, and haranguing a girl who stood near him with her eyes wide open as if she were watching for, as well as listening to, every word which should drop frora his oracular lips. A little boy, alraost equally attentive to his eloquence, occupied the space between thera, and completed the group, I felt a strong inclination to hear what he was saying, and stationed rayself doucement, douce ment at a short distance, looking, I believe, almost as respectfully attentive as the girl for whose particular advantage he was evidently holding forth. He perceived our approach, but appeared nowise annoyed by it ; on the contrary, it seera ed to rae that he was pleased to have an increased audience, for he evidently threw more energy into his raanner, waved his right hand with raore dignity, and raised his voice higher. I wiU not atterapt to give you his discourse A STREET ORATOR, 327 verbatira, for sorae of his phrases were so extra ordinary, or at least so new to rae, that I cannot recall thera ; but the general purport of it raade an impression both on me and ray corapanion, frora its containing so corapletely the very soul and essence of the party to which he evidently belonged. The therae was the cruel treatraent of the amiable, patriotic, and noble-minded pri soners at the Luxembourg. " What did we fight for ?" . . . said he, pointing to the tombs within the enclosure : " was it not to make France and Frenchraen free ? . . . . And do they caU it free dom to be locked up in a prison , , . actually locked up ? , . . What ! can a slave be worse than that ? Slaves have got chains on . . . qu 'est-ce que cela fait ? .... If a man is locked up, he can not go farther than if he was chained — c'est clair , , , . it is all one, and Frenchmen are again slaves This is what we have got by our revolution . . . ," The girl, who continued to stand looking at hira with undeviating attention, and, as I presurae, with proportionate adrairation, turned every now and then a glance our way, to see what effect it produced on us. My attention, at least, was quite as much riveted on the speaker as her own ; and I would wUlingly have remained listening to his reasons, which were quite as " plentiful as blackberries," why no Frenchman in the world, 328 BURIAL-PLACES OF THE let him do what he would, » (except, I suppose, when they obey their king, like the unfortunate victims of popular tyranny at Ham,) should ever be restricted in his freedom — because freedom was what they fought for — and being in prison was not being free — and so on round and round in his logical circle. But as his vehemence in creased, so did his audience ; and as I did not choose to be present at a second " mouveraent " on the sarae day, or at any rate of running, the risk of again seeing the police approaching a throng of which I made one, I walked off. The last words I heard from him, as he pointed piteously to the torabs, were-^" Via les restes de notre re volution de Juillet !" In truth, this fellow talked treason so glibly, that I felt very glad to get quietly away ; but I was also glad to have fallen in with such an adrairable display of popular eloquence, with so little trouble or inconvenience. We lingered long enough within reach of the tombs, while listening to this man, for me to read and note the inscription on one of thera. The narae and description of the " victime de JuiUet " who lay beneath it was, " Hapel, du departement de la Sarthe, tue le 29 Juillet 1830," Nothing can be raore trumpery than the ap pearance of this burying-place of " the immor tals," with its flags and its foppery of spears and halberds. There is another siraUar to it in V'jLA LES Restes »e i5^otb.e BE Jicrir.iL-,,ri ¦':"•¦¦ londou, l^ahliabeil I".- Kicii VICTIMS OF JULY. 329 the raost eastern court of the Louvre, and, I beUeve, in several other places. If it be deeraed advisable to leave raeraorials upon these uncon secrated graves, it would be in better taste to make them of such dignity as might excuse their erection in these conspicuous situations ; but at present the effect is decidedly ludicrous. If the bodies of those who fell are really deposited with in these fantastical enclosures, it would show much more reverence for thera and their cause if they were all to receive Christian burial at P^re Lachaise, with all such honours, due or undue, as raight suit the feelings of the time ; and over them it would be well to record, as a matter of historical interest, the tirae and manner of their death. This would look Uke the result of na tional feeling^^ and have soraething respectable in it ; which; certainly cannot be said of the faded flaunting flags and tassels which now wave over thera, so much in the style of deco rations in the barn of a strolling company of comedians. As we left the spot, my attention was directed to the Rue de la Feronnerie, which is close to the Marche des Innocens, and in which street Henri Quatre lost his life by the assassin hand of Ra vaillac. It struck rae as we talked of this event, and of the raany others to which the streets of this -beautiful but turbulent capital have been 330 SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING ON witness, that a most interesting — and, if accom panied by good architectural engravings, a raost beautiful — work raight be corapiled on the sarae plan, or at least following the sarae idea as Mr. Leigh Hunt has taken in his work on the interest ing localities of London. A history of the streets of Paris might contain a raixture of tragedy, comedy, and poetry — of history, biography, and romance, that might furnish voluraes of " enter taining knowledge," which being the favourite genre araidst the swelling mass of raodern litera ture, could hardly fail of meeting with success. How pleasantly raight an easy writer go on anecdotizing through century after century, as widely and wildly as he pleased, and yet suffi ciently tied together to come legitimately under one comraon title ; and how wide a grasp of his tory might one little spot sometimes contain ! Where some scattered traces of the stones may still be seen that were to have been reared into a palace for the King of Rome, once stood the convent of the "Visitation de Sainte Marie," founded by Henriette the beautiful and the good, after the death of her martyred husband, our first Charles ; within whose church were en shrined her heart, and those of her daughter, and of James the Second of England. Where English nuns took refuge frora EngUsh protestantism, is now — raost truly English still — a manufactory for THE LOCALITIES OF PARIS. 331 spinning cotton. Where stood the raost holy altar of Le Verbe Incarne, now stands a caserne. In short, it is alraost irapossible to take a single step in Paris without discovering, if one does but take the trouble of inquiring a little, sorae tra dition attached to it that raight contribute in formation to such a work. I have often thought that a history of the con vents of Paris during that year of barbarous pro fanation 1790, would make, if the raaterials were well collected, one of the raost interesting books in the world. The number of nuns returned upon the world from the convents of that city alone amounted to raany thousands ; and when one thinks of aU the varieties of feeling which this act raust have occasioned, differing probably frora the brightest joy for recovered hope and life, to the deepest desolation of wretched help lessness, it seems extraordinary that so little of its history has reached us. Paris is delightful enough, as every one knows, to all who look at it, even with the superficial glance that seeks no farther than its external aspect at the present raoraent; but it would, I iraagine, be interesting beyond all other cities of the raodern world if carefuUy traveUed through with a consuraraate antiquarian who had given enough learned attention to the subject to enable hira to do justice to it. There is soraething so 332 DISSIMILARITY OF CHARACTER piquant in the contrasts offered by some localities between their present and their past conditions, — such records furnished at every corner, of the enormous greatness of the human animal, and his most chetif want of all stability — traces of such wit and such weakness, such piety and profanation, such bland and soft politeness, and such ferocious barbarism, — that I do not believe any other page of human nature could furnish the like. I ara sure, at least, that no British records could furnish pictures of native manners and native acts so dissimilar at different times from each other as may be found to have existed here. The most striking contrast that we can show is between the effects of Oliver Cromwell's rule and that of Charles the Second ; but this was unity and concord corapared to the changes in charac ter which have repeatedly taken place in France. That this contrast with us was, speaking of the general raass of the population, little more than the mannerism arising from adopting the style of " the court" for the time being, is proved by the wondrously easy transition from one tone to the other which followed the restoration. This was chiefly the affair of courtiers, or of public men, who as necessarily put on the raanners of their raaster as a doraestic servant does a livery ; but Englishmen were stiU in aU essentials the AT DIFFERENT PERIODS. 333 sarae. Not so the French when they threw theraselves headlong, frora one extreraity of the country to the other, into all the desperate reli gious wildness which raarks the history of the Ligue; not so the French when frora the wor ship of their raonarchs they suddenly turned as at one accord and flew at their throats like blood hounds. Were they then the same people ? — did they testify any single trait of moral affinity to what the world thought to be their national character one short year before ? Then again look at thera under Napoleon, and look at thera under Louis-Philippe. It is a great, a powerful, a raagnificent people, let thera put on what out ward seeraing they will ; but I doubt if there be any nation in the world that would so completely throw out a theorist who wished to establish the doctrine of distinct races as the French. You will think that I have raade a very circui tous rarable frora the Marche des Innocens ; but I have only given you the results of the faraily speculation we fell into after returning thence, which arose, I believe, from my narrating how I had passed from the tom beaux of the victimes de Juillet to the place where Henri Quatre received his death. This set us to raeditate on the dif ferent political objects of the slain ; and we all agreed that it was a much easier task to define those of the king than those of the subject. 334 LE SIEUR HAPEL. There is every reason in the world to believe that the royal Henri wished the happiness and prospe rity of France ; but the guessing with any ap pearance of correctness what might be the especial wish and desire of the Sieur Hapel du departe ment de la Sarthe, is a raatter infinitely raore difficult to decide. 335 LETTER LXIX. A Philosophical Spectator. — Collection of Baron Sylvestre. — H6tel des Monnaies. — Musee d'Artillerie. We have been indebtedto M. J*****, the same obUging and amiable friend of whom I have be fore spoken, for one or two more very deUghtful mornings. We saw raany things, and we talked of many more. M. J*** «* is inexhaustible in piquant and ori ginal observation, and possesses such extensive knowledge on all those subjects which are the raost intimately connected with the internal his tory of France during the last eventful forty years, as to raake every word he utters not only inter esting, but really precious. When I converse with hira, I feel that I have opened a rich vein of in forraation, which if I had but time and opportu nity to derive from it all it could give, would positively leave me ignorant of nothing I wish to know respecting the country. The Meraoirs of such a man as M. J* **** would be a work of no comraon value. The raiUtary 336 MEMOIRS STILL WANTING. history of the period is as familiar to all the world as the marches of Alexander or the conquests of Caesar ; the political history of the country dur ing the same interval is equally well known ; its literary history speaks for itself: but such Me raoirs as I ara sure M. J***** could write, would furnish a picture that is yet wanting. We are not without full and minute details of all the great events which have raade France the principal object for all Europe to stare at for the last half-century ; but these details have uni formly proceeded frora individuals who have either been personaUy engaged in or nearly connected with these stirring events ; and they are accord ingly all tinctured raore or less with such strong party feeling, as to give no very irapartial colour ing to every circurastance they recount. The in evitable consequence of this is, that, with all our extensive reading on the subject, we are still far frora having a correct impression of the internal and domestic state of the country throughout this period. We know a great deal about old nobles who have laid down their titles and becorae men of the people, and about new nobles who have laid down their muskets to become men of the court, — ¦ of ministers, ambassadors, and princes who have dropped out of sight, and of parvenus of aU sorts who have started into it ; but, meanwhile, what do A PHILOSOPHICAL SPECTATOR. 337 we know of the mass — not of the people — of them also we know quite enough, — but of the gentle men, who, as each successive change came round, felt called upon by no especial duty to quit their honourable and peaceable professions in order to resist or advance them ? Yet of these it is certain there must be hundreds who, on the old principle that " lookers-on see most of the game," are raore capable of telling us what effect these momentous changes really produced than any of those who helped to cause them, M, J***** is one of these ; and I could not but remark, while listening to him, how completely the tone in which he spoke of all the public events he had witnessed was that of a philosophical specta tor. He seemed disposed, beyond any Frenchman I have yet conversed with, to give to each epoch its just character, and to each individual his just value : I never before had the good fortune to hear any citizen of the Great Nation converse freely, calmly, reasonably, without prejudice or partiality, of that most marvellous individual Napoleon, It is not necessary to attempt recalling the pre cise expressions used respecting him ; for the general impression left on iny mind is much more deeply engraven than the language which con veyed it : besides, it is possible that my inferences may have been more conclusive and distinct than VOL, II. z 338 NAPOLEON AND HIS RULE. I had any right to raake thera, and yet so sincere ly the result of the casual observations scattered here and there in a conversation that was any thing but suivie, that were I to attempt to repeat the words which conveyed them, I might be be trayed into involuntary and unconscious exagger ation. The impression, then, which I received is, that he was a most magnificent tyrant. His projects seera to have been conceived with the vastness and energy of a moral giant, even when they related to the internal regulation only of the vast empire he had seized upon ; but the mode in which he brought them into action was uniformly marked by barefaced, unshrinking, uncompromis ing tyranny. The fainous Ordonnances of Charles Dix were no raore to be corapared, as an act of arbitrary power, to the daily deeds of Napoleon, than the action of a dainty pair of golden sugar- tongs to that of the firmest vice that ever Vulcan forged. But this enormous, this treraendous power, was never wantonly employed ; and the country when under his dominion had more fre quent cause to exclaim in triuraph — " 'Tis excellent to have a giant's strength," than to add in suffering, " But tyrannous to use it like a giant." It was the conviction of this — the firm beUef that THE RESTORATION. 339 the GLORY of France was the object of her auto crat, which consecrated and confirmed his power while she bent her proud neck to his yoke, and which has since and will for ever make his name sound in the ears of her children like a paean to their own glory. What is there which men, and most especially Frenchraen, will not suffer and endure to hear that note? Had Napoleon been granted to thera in all his splendour as their eraperor for ever, they would for ever have re mained his willing slaves. When, however, he was lost to them, there is every reason to believe that France would gladly have knit together the severed thread of her ancient glory with her hopes of future greatness, had the act by which it was to be achieved been her own : but it was the hand of an enemy that did it — the hand of a triumphant enemy ; and though a host of powerful, valiant, noble, and loyal-hearted Frenchmen welcomed the son of St. Louis to his lawful throne with as deep and sin cere fideUty as ever warmed the heart of man, there was still a national feeling of wounded pride which gnawed the hearts of the raultitude, and even in the brightest days of the Restoration prevented their rightful king frora being in their eyes what he would have been had they pur chased his return by the act of drawing their swords, instead of laying thera down . It was a z 2 340 THE RESTORATION. greatness that was thrust upon them — and for that reason, and I truly believe for that reason only, it was distasteful. In days of old, if it happened by accident that a king was unpopular, it mattered very little to the general prosperity of his country, and still less to the general peace of Europe. Even if hatred went so far as to raise the hand of an as sassin against him, the tranquillity of the rest of the human race was but little affected thereby. But in these tiraes the effect is very different : disaffection has been taught to display itself in acts that raay at one stroke overthrow the pro sperity of millions at home, and endanger the pre cious blessings of peace abroad ; and it becoraes therefore a matter of iraportance to the whole of Europe that every throne established within her liraits should be sustained not only by its own subjects, but by a systera of mutual support that may insure peace and security to all. To do this where a king is rejected by the majority of the people, is, to say the least of it, a very difficult task ; and it wiU probably be found that to sup port power firmly and legally estabUshed, wUl contribute raore to the success of this system of mutual support for the preservation of universal tranquilUty, than any crusade that could be under taken in any part of the worid for the purpose of substituting an exiled dynasty for a reigning one. THE BARON GROS. 341 This is the doctrine to which I have now listen ed so long and so often, that I have ceased all atterapts to refute it. I have, however, whUe stating it, been led to wander a little from those reminiscences respecting fair France which I found so interesting, coraing forth as they did, as if by accident, frora the rich storehouse of my agreeable friend's raemory : but I believe it would be quite in vain were I to go back to the point at which I deviated, for I could do justice neither to the raatter nor the raanner of the con versations which afforded rae so much pleasure ; — I believe therefore that I had better spare you any raore politics just at present, and tell you something of several things which we had the pleasure of seeing with hira. One of these was Baron Gros' magnificent sketch, if I must so call a very finished painting, of his fine picture of the Plague of Jaffa. A week or two before I had seen the picture itself at the Luxembourg, and felt persuaded then that it was by far the finest work of the raaster ; but this first developement of his idea is certainly finer still. It is a beautiful composition, and there are groups in it that would not have lowered the reputation of Michael Angelo. The severe simplicity of the Eraperor's figure and position is in the very purest taste. This very admirable work was, when we saw it. 342 BARON DE SYLVESTRE'S COLLECTION. in the possession of the Baron de Sylvestre, whose collection, without having the dignity of a gallery, has some beautiful things in it. Our visit to it and its owner was one of great interest to me. I have seldora seen any one with a raore genuine and enthusiastic love of art. He has one cabinet, — it is, I believe, his own bed-room, — which alraost frora floor to ceiling is hung with little gems, so closely set together ^s to produce at first sight the effect of alm.ost inextricable confusion ; — por traits, landscapes, and historic sketches — pencil- crayon, water-colour and oil — with frames and without fraraes, all blended together in utter de fiance of all syraraetry or order whatever. But it was a rich confusion, and many a collector would have i^oiced at receiving permission to seize upon a chance handful of the heterogeneous raass of which it was composed. Curious, well- authenticated, original drawings of the great masters, though reduced to a mere rag, have always great interest in ray eyes,— and the Baron de 'Sylvestre has raany such : but it was his own air of comfortable domestic intimacy with every scrap, however sraall, on the lofty and thickly-studded walls of this roora, which de lighted me ; — it reminded me of Denon, who many years ago showed rae his large and very miscel laneous coUection with equal enthusiasm. I dearly HOTEL DES MONNAIES. 343 love to raeet with people who are really and truly in earnest. On the same morning that we made this agree able acquaintance, we passed an hour or two at the Hotel des Monnaies, which is situated on the Quai Conti, and, I beUeve, on the exact spot where the old H6tel de Conti formerly stood. The build ing, like all the public estabUshraents in France, is very raagnificent, and we amused ourselves very agreeably with our intelligent and amiable cicisbeo in examining an iraraense collection of coins and medals. This collection was forraeriy placed at the Louvre, but transferred to this hotel as soon as its erection was corapleted. The raedals, as usual in all such exarainations, occupied the greater part of our time and attention. It is quite a gallery of portraits, and many of them of the highest historical interest : but perhaps our amusement was as much derived from ob serving how many ignoble heads, who had no more business there than so many turnips, had found place nevertheless, by the outrageous vanity either of theraselves or their friends, araidst kings, heroes, poets, and philosophers. It is perfectly astonishing to see how many such as these have sought a bronze or brazen iraraortallty at the Hotel des Monnaies : every raedal struck in France has an irapression preserved here, and it is probably the knowledge 344 MUSEE D'ARTILLERIE. of this fact which has tempted these Uttle people so preposterously to distinguish themselves. On another occasion we went with the same agreeable escort to visit the national museum of ancient armour. This Musee d'Artillerie is not quite so splendid a spectacle as the sarae species of exhibition at the Tower ; but there are a great many beautiful things there too. Some exqui sitely-finished muskets and arquebuses of consi derable antiquity, and splendid -with a profusion of inlaid ivory, mother-of-pearl, and precious stones, are well arranged for exhibition, as are likewise some coraplete suits of arraour of various dates ; — araong them is one worn in battle by the unfor tunate Maid of Orleans. But this is not only a curious antiquarian exhi bition, — it is in truth a national institution where in military men raay study the art of war from almost its first barbarous simplicity up to its pre sent terrible perfection. The models of aU man ner of slaughtering instruraents are beautiuUy exe cuted, and raust be of great interest to all who wish to study the theory of that science which raay be proved " par raison demonstrative," as Moliere observes, to consist wholly " dans l'art de donner et ne pas recevoir." But I believe the object which raost amused me in the exhibition, was a written notice, repeated at intervals along aU the MUSKETS SEIZED IN JULY. 345 racks on which were placed the raore raodern and ordinary rauskets, to this effect : — " Manquant, au second rang de ce ratelier d'armes, environ quatre-vingt carabines k rouet, ornees d'incrustation d'ivoire et de nacre, dans le genre de celles du premier rang. Toutes celles qu'on voit ici ont servi dans les journees de Juillet, et ont 6te rendues apr^s. Les personnes qui au- raient encore celles qui raanquent sont prices de les rapporter." There is such a superlative degree of bonhomie in the belief that because all the ordinary muskets which were seized upon by the July patriots were returned, those also adorned with " incrustations d'ivoire et de nacre " would be returned too, that it was quite impossible to restrain a smile at it. Such unwearied confidence and hope deserve a better reward than, I fear, they will meet : the "incrustations d'ivoire et de nacre" are, I doubt not, in very safe keeping, and have been con verted, by the patriot hands that seized them, to other purposes, as dear to the hearts they belong ed to as that of firing at the Royal Guard over a barricade. Our doctrinaire friend himself con fessed that he thought it was tirae these naive notices should be reraoved. It was, I think, in the course of this excursion that our friend gave rae an anecdote which I 346 ANECDOTE OF CHARLES DIX. think is curious and characteristic. Upon sorae occasion which led to a private interview between Charles Dix and hiraself, sorae desultory conversa tion followed the discussion of the business which led to the audience. The name of Malesherbes, the intrepid defender of Louis Seize, was mention ed by our friend. The monarch frowned. " Sire !" — was uttered almost involuntarily. "II nous a fait beaucoup de mal," said the king in reply to the exclamation — adding with em phasis, " Mais il I'a paye par sa t^te I" 347 LETTER LXX. Concert in the Champs Elysees. — Horticultural Exhibition. — Forced Flowers. — Republican Hats — Carlist Hats — Juste-Milieu Hats, — Popular Funeral. The advancing season begins to render the at mosphere of the theatres insupportable, and even a crowded soiree is not so agreeable as it has been ; So last night we sought our amuseraent in Usten ing to the concert " en plein air " in the Champs Elysees. I hear that you too have been enjoying this new delight of al-fresco music in London. France and England are exceedingly like the in terlocutors of an eclogue, where first one puts forth all his power and poetry to enchant the world, and then the other " takes up the won drous tale," and does his utmost to exceed and excel, and so go on, each straining every nerve to outdo the other. Thus it is with the two great rivals who per form their various feats a I'envi l'un de l'autre on the opposite sides of the Channel. No sooner does one burst out with some new and bright idea which like a newly-kindled torch makes for awhile aU other Ughts look dim, than the other 348 CONCERTS IN THE catches it, finds out some ingenious way of making it his own, and then grows as proud and as fond of it as if it had been truly the offspring ofhis own brain. But in this strife and this stealing neither party has any right to reproach the other, for the exchange is very nearly at par between them. A very few years ago, half a dozen scraping fiddlers, and now and then a screaming " sir^ne arabulante," furnished all the rausic ofthe Charaps Elysees ; but now there is the prettiest " salon de concert en plein air" iraaginable. By the way, I confess that this phrase " salon de concert en plein air" has soraething rather paradoxical in it : nevertheless, it is perfectly cor rect ; the concerts of the Charaps Elysees are decidedly en plein air, and yet they are enclosed within what raay very fairly be called a salon. The effect of this fanciful arrangement is really very pretty ; and if you have managed your echo of this agreeable fantasia as skilfully, an idle Lon don summer evening has gained much. Shall I tell you how it has been done in Paris ? In the lower part of the Charaps Elysees, a round space is enclosed by a low rail. Within this, to the extent of about fifteen or twenty feet, are ranged sundry circular rows of chairs that are sheltered by a Ught awning. Within these, a troop of graceful nyraphs, forraed of white plaster, but which a spectator if he be araiably disposed CHAMPS ELYSEES. 349 raay take for white marble, stand each one with a lamp upon her head, forraing altogether a delicate halo, which, as daylight fades, throws a faint but sufficient degree of illumination upon the company. In the centre of the enclosure rises a stage, covered by a tent-like canopy and brilliant as lamps can make it. Here the band is stationed, which is suffi dently good and sufficiently full to produce a very delightful effect : it must indeed be very viUan ous music which, listened to while the cool breeze of a summer's evening refreshes the spirit, should not be agreeable. The whole space between the exterior awning and the centre pavilion appro priated to the band is fiUed with chairs, which, though so very literaUy en plein air, were all filled with company, and the effect of the whole thing was quite delightful. The price of entrance to aU this prettiness is one franc ! This, by the bye, is a part of the ar rangement which I suspect is not rivalled in Eng land. Neither will you, I believe, soon learn the easy sort of unpremeditated tone in which it is resorted to. It is ten to one, I think, that no one — no ladies at least — will ever go to your al-fresco concert without arranging a party beforehand ; and there wiU be a question of whether it shaU be before tea or after tea, in a carriage or on foot, &c. &c. But here it is enjoyed in the very spirit of sans souci : — you take your evening ram- 350 HORTICULTURAL EXHIBITION. ble — the lamps sparkle in the distance, or the sound of the instruments reaches your ears, and this is aU the preparation required. And then, as you may always be perfectly sure that everybody you know in Paris is occupied as well as yourself in seeking amuseraent, the chances are greatly in your favour that you will not reach the little bureau at the gate without encountering sorae friend or friends whom you may induce to pro- mener their idleness the same way. I often marvel, as I look around rae in our walks and drives, where all the sorrow and suffer ing which we know to be the lot of raan contrives to hide itself at Paris. Everywhere else you see people looking anxious and busy at least, if not quite woe-begone and utterly raiserable : but here the glance of every eye is a gay one ; and even though this may perhaps be only worn in the sunshine and put on just as other people put on their hats- and bonnets, the effect is delight fully cheering to the spirits of a wandering stranger. It was we, I think, who set the example of an annual public exhibition by an horticultural so ciety. It has been followed here, but not as yet upon the same splendid scale as in London and its neighbourhood. The Orangery of the Louvre is the scene of this display, which is employed for the purpose as soon as the royal trees that HORTICULTURAL EXHIBITION. 351 pass their winters in it are taken out to the Gardens of the Tuileries. I never on any occa sion remeraber having been exposed to , so op pressive a degree of heat as on the morning that we visited this exhibition. The sun shone with intolerable splendour upon the long range of windows, and the place was so full of company, that it was with the greatest difficulty we crept on an inch at a time from one extreraity of the hall to the other. Sorae of the African plants were very fine ; but in general the show was certainly not very raagnificent. I suspect that the extrerae heat of the apartment had consider ably destroyed the beauty of some of the more de licate flowering plants, for there were scarcely any of the frail blossoras of our hothouse treasures in perfection. The collection of geraniuras was, cora pared to those I have seen in England, very poor, and so little either of novelty or splendour about thera, that I suspect the cultivation of this lovely race, and the production of a new variety in it, is not a raatter of so great interest in France as in England. The cliraate of France is perhaps raore con genial to delicate flowers than our own ; and yet it appears to rae that, with sorae few exceptions, such as oranges and the laurier-rose, I have seen nothing in Paris this year equal to the specimens found at the first-rate florists' round London. 352 FORCED FLOWERS. Even in the decoration of rooms, though flowers are often abundant here, they are certainly less choice than with us ; and, excepting in one or two instances, I have observed no plants whatever forced into premature bloora to gratify the pam pered taste of the town araateur. I do not, how ever, mention this as a defect ; on the contrary, I perfectly agree in the truth of Rousseau's ob servation, that such impatient science by no raeans increases the sura of the year's enjoyment. " Ce n'est pas parer I'hiver," he says, — " c'est deparer le printemps :" and the truth of this is obvious, not only in the indifference with which those who are accustoraed to receive this unnatural and pre cocious produce welcorae the abounding treasures of that real spring-tirae which comes when it pleases Heaven to send it, but also in the worth less weakness of the untimely product itself. I certainly know many who appear to gaze with ecstasy on the pale hectic-looking bloom of a frail rose-tree in the month of February, who can walk unmoved in the spicy evenings of June amidst thousands of rich blossoras all opening their bright bosoras to the breeze in the sweet healthy freshness of unforced nature : yet I wUl not assert that this proceeds from affectation — . indeed, I verily believe that fine ladies do in aU sincerity think that roses at Christmas are really much prettier and sweeter things than roses in GROTESQUE REPUBLICAN COSTUME. 353 June ; but, at least, I may confess that I think otherwise. Among the nuraerous corapany assembled to look at this display of exotics, was a figure per haps the most reraarkably absurd that we have yet seen in the grotesque extreraity of his repub lican costume. We watched him for sorae time with considerable interest, — and the raore so, as we perceived that he was an object of curiosity to many besides ourselves. In truth, his pointed hat and enorraous lapels out-Heroded Herod ; and I presume the attention he excited was occasioned more by the extravagant excess than the unusual style of his costume. A gentieraan who was with us at the Orangery told me an anecdote respecting a part of this sort of symbolic attire, which had becorae, he said, the foundation of a vaudeville, but which nevertheless was the record of a circurastance which actually occurred at Paris. A young provincial happened to arrive in the capital just at the tirae that these hieroglyphic habiliraents were first brought into use, and having occasion for a new hat, repaired to the raagasin of a noted chapelier, where everything of the newest invention was sure to be found. The young man, alike innocent of politics and ignorant of its symbols, selected a hat as high and as pointed as that of the toughest roundhead at the VOL. II. 2 A 354 ANECDOTE OF A PROVINCIAL, court of CromweU, and saUied forth, proud of being one of the first in a new fashion, to visit a young relative who was en pension at an estab Ushment rather celebrated for its freely-proclaimed CarUst propensities. His young cousin, he was told, was enjoying the hour of recreation with his schoolfeUows in the play-ground behind the mansion. He desired to be led to hira ; and was accordingly shown the way to the spot, where about fifty young legitimatists were asserabled. No sooner, however, had he and his hat obtained the entree to this enclosure, than the most violent and hideous yell was heard to issue from every part of it. At first the simple-minded provincial smiled, frora believing that this uproar, wild as it was, raight be intended to express a juvenile welcorae ; and having descried his young kinsman on the opposite side of the enclosure, he walked boldly forward to reach him. But, before he had pro ceeded half a dozen steps, he was assailed on all sides by pebbles, tops, flying hoops, and well- directed handfuls of mud. Startled, astounded, and totaUy unable to coraprehend the motives for so violent an assault, he paused for a moment, uncertain whether to advance boldly, or shelter himself by flight frora an attack which seemed every raoraent to increase in violence. Ere he ANECDOTE OF A PROVINCIAL, 355 had well decided what course to pursue, his bold- hearted little relative rushed up to him, screara ing, as loud as his young voice would allow, — " Sauve-toi, raon cousin ! sauve-toi ! Ote ton vilain chapeau ! , , , . C'est le chapeau ! le rae- chant chapeau !" The young raan again stopped short, in the hope of being able to coraprehend the vociferations of his little friend ; but the hostile raissives rang about his ears with such effect, that he suddenly carae to the decision at which Falstaff arrived before hira, and feeling that, at least on the pre sent occasion, discretion was the better part of valour, he turned round, and raade his escape as speedily as possible, rauttering, however, as he went, " Qu'est-ce que c'est done qu'un chapeau ^- la-raode pour en faire ce vacarrae de diable ?" Having made good his retreat, he repaired without delay to the hatter of whora he had pur chased this offensive article, described the scene he had passed through, and requested an expla nation of it. "Mais, raonsieur," replied the unoffending tradesraan, " c'est tout bonnement un chapeau republicain ;" adding, that if he had known raon- sieur's principles were not in accordance with a high crown, he would most certainly have pointed out the possible inconvenience of wearing one, 2 a2 356 ANECDOTE OF A PROVINCIAL. As he spoke, he uncovered and displayed to view one of those delicate light-coloured hats which are known at Paris to speak the loyal principles of the wearer. "This hat," said he, gracefully -presenting it, "raay be safely worn by raonsieur even if he chose to take his seat in the extreraest corner of the c6te droit." Once more the inexperienced youth w^alked forth ; and this time he directed his steps towards the stupendous plaster elephant on the Place de la Bastile, now and ever the favourite object of country curiosity. He had taken correct instruc tions for his route, and proceeded securely by the gay succession of Boulevards towards the spot he sought. For some time he pursued his pleasant walk without any adventure or interruption what^ ever ; but as he approached the region of the Porte St, Martin sundry little sijfflemens became audible, and ere he had half traversed the Boule vard du Temple he became fully convinced that whatever fate might have awaited his new, new hat at the pensionnat of his little cousin, both he and it ran great risk of being rolled in the mud which stagnated in sullen darkness near the spot where once stood the awful Temple, No sooner did he discover that the covering of his unlucky head was again obnoxious, than he ANECDOTE OF A PROVINCIAL, 357 hastened once more to the treacherous hatter, as he now fully believed him to be, and in no mea sured tone expressed his indignation of a line of conduct which had thus twice exposed the tran quillity — nay, perhaps the life of an unoffending individual to the fury of the mob. The worthy hatter with all possible respect and civility re pelled the charge, declaring that his only wish and intention was to accoraraodate every gentie raan who did hira the honour to enter his maga sin with exactly that species of hat which might best accord with his taste and principles. "If, however," he added with a modest bow, "mon sieur really intended to condescend so far as to ask his advice as to which species of hat it was best and safest to wear at the present time in Paris, he should beyond the slightest shadow of doubt respectfully recoraraend the juste milieu." The young provincial foUowed his advice ; and the raoral of the story is, that he walked in peace and quietness through the streets of Paris as long as he stayed. On our way horae this raorning we met a most magnificent funeral array : I reckoned twenty car riages, but the pietons were beyond counting. I forget the name of the individual, but it was sorae one who had raade himself very popular among 358 A FUNERAL. — STREET IMPROVEMENTS. the people. There was not, however, the least ap pearance of riot or confusion ; nor were there any mUitary to protect the procession, — a dignity which is always accorded by this thoughtful governraent to every person whose funeral is likely to be ho noured by too great a deraonstration of popular affection. Every man as it passed took off his hat ; but this they would have done had no cortege accompanied the hearse, for no one ever meets a funeral in France without it. But though everything had so peaceful an air, we still felt disposed to avoid the crowd, and to effect this, turned frora the quay down a street that led to the Palais Royal. Here there was no paveraent ; and the iraproved clean liness of Paris, which I had adraitted an hour be fore to a native who had reraarked upon it, now appeared so questionable to some of my party, that I was challenged to describe what it had been before this improvement took place. But notwithstanding this want of faith, which was perhaps natural enough in the Rue des Bons En fans, into which we had blundered, it is neverthe less a positive fact that Paris is greatly improved in this respect ; and if the next seven years do as much towards its purification as the last have done, we may reasonably hope that in process of tirae it will be possible to drive — nay, even walk through STREET IMPROVEMENTS. 359 its crowded streets without the aid either of aro raatic vinegar or eau de Cologne. Much, how ever, still reraains to be done ; and done it undoubt edly will be, from one end of the " belle ville " to the other, if no barricades arise to interfere with the purifying process. But English noses must still have a little patience. 360 LETTER LXXI. Minor French Novelists. It is not long since, in writing to you of mo dern French works of imagination, I avowed my great and irresistible admiration for the high ta lent manifested in sorae of the writings published under the signature of George Sand ; and I re raeraber that the observations I ventured to make respecting them swelled into such length as to prevent my then uttering the protest which all Christian souls are called upon to make against the ordinary productions of the rainor French story-tellers of the day. I raust therefore now raake this araende to the cause of morality and truth, and declare to you with all sincerity, that I believe nothing can be more contemptible, yet at the same time more deeply dangerous to the cause of virtue, than the productions of this unprincipled class of writers. WhUe conversing a short time ago on the sub ject of these noxious ephemera with a gentleman MINOR FRENCH NOVELISTS. 361 whose professional occupations of necessity bring him into occasional contact with thera, he struck off for ray edification a sketch which he assured rae raight stand as a portrait, with wonderfully little variation, for any individual of the fraternity. It raay lose soraething of its raciness by the pro cesses of recoUecting and translating ; but I flatter myself that I shall be able to preserve enough of the likeness to justify ray giving it to you. " These authors," said their Uvely historian, " swarra au sixihme in every quarter of Paris. For the raost part, they are either idle scholars who, having taken an aversion to the vulgar drudgery of education, deterraine upon finding a short cut to the teraple of Farae ; or else they are young artisans — journeyraen workers at some craft or other, which brings thera in just francs enough to sustain an ho nest decent existence, but wholly insufficient to rai nister to the sublirae necessities of revolutionary arabition. As perfect a syrapathy appears to exist in the politics of all these gentry as in their doctrine of raorals : they all hold theraselves ready for rebellion at the first convenient opportunity — be it against Louis, Charles, Henri, or PhiUppe, it is aU one; rebelUon against constituted and re cognised authority being, according to their high- minded code, their first duty, as weU as their dear est recreation. They raust wait, however, tiU the fitting rao- 362 MINOR FRENCH NOVELISTS. ment come ; and, meanwhile, how raay they better the condition in which the tyranny of kings and law-makers has placed thera ? Shall they listen to the inward whisperings which tell them, that, being utterly unfitted to do their duty in that state of life to which it has pleased God to call them, they raust of necessity and by the inevit able nature of things be fitted for sorae other ? . . . What raay it be ? . . . Treason and rapine, of course, if tirae be ripe for it — but en attendant ? To trace on an iraraortal page the burning thoughts that mar their handicraft .... to teach the world what fools the sages who have lived, and spoken, and gone to rest, would make of them ... to cause the voice of passion to be heard high above that of law or of gospel . . . Yes ... it is thus they will at once beguile the tedious hours that raust precede another revolution, and earn by the noble labours of genius the luxuries denied to gro velling industry. This sublime occupation once decided on, it follows as a necessary result that they must begin by awakening all those tender syrapathies of na ture, which are to the iraagination what oil is-to the larap. A favourite grisette is fixed upon, and invited to share the glory, the cabbage, the inspi ration, and the garret of the exalted journeyraan or truant scholar. It is said that the whole of this class of authors are supposed to place particular MINOR FRENCH NOVELISTS. 363 faith in that tinsel sentiment, so prettily and poeti cally untrue, — " Love, light as air, at sight of human ties. Spreads his bright wings, and in a moment flies ;" and the inspired young man gently insinuates his unfettered ideas on the subject to the chosen fair one, who, if her acquaintance has lain much among these " fully-developed intelligences," is not unfrequently found to be as sublirae in her notions of such subjects as hiraself; so the in teresting little rafenage is raonte on the iraraortal basis of freedora. Then coraes the literary labour, and its raon strous birth — a volurae of tales, glowing with love and murder, blasphemy and treason, or downright obscenity, affecting to clothe itself in the playful drapery of wit. It is not difficult to find a publisher who knows where to raeet with young customers ever ready to barter their last sous for such coraraodities, and the bargain is raade. At the actual sight and at the actual touch of the unhoped-for sura of three hundred francs, the flood of inspiration rises higher still. More hideous love and bloodier raurders, raore phren- sied blaspheray and deadlier treason, foUow ; and thus the fair raetropoiis of France is furnished with intellectual food for the craving appetites of 364 AN ENGLISHMAN'S ADMIRATION the most useful and productive part of its popu lation. Can we wonder that the Morgue is seldom untenanted ? ... or that the tender hand of af fection is so often seen to pUlow its loved victim where the fumes of charcoal shaU soon extin guish a life too precious to be prolonged in a world where laws stUl exist, and where man must live, and woman too, by the sweat of their brows ? It was some time after the conversation in which I received this sketch, that I fell into corapany with an Englishman who enjoys the reputation of high cultivation and considerable talent, and who certainly is not without that species of power in conversation which is pro duced by the belief that hyperbole is the soul of eloquence, and the stout defence of a paradox the highest proof of intellectual strength. To say I conversed with this gifted individual would hardly be correct ; but I listened to him, and gained thereby additional confirmation of a fact which I had repeatedly heard insisted on in Paris, that admiration for the present French school of decousu writing is raanifested by critics of a higher class in England than could be found to tolerate it in France. " Have you read the works of the young meii of France ?" was the comprehensive question by OF THE DljlCOUSU LITERATURE. 365 which this gentieraan opened the flood-gates of the eloquence which was intended to prove, that without having studied well the bold and sublirae corapositions which have been put forth by this class, no one had a right to forra a judgraent of the existing state of huraan inteUigence. For myself, I confess that my reading in this line, though greatly beyond what was agreeable to my taste, has never approached anything that deserved the narae of study; and, indeed, I should as soon have thought of forming an estimate of the " existing state of huraan intelligence" frora the height to which the boys of Paris made their kites mount from the top of Montraartre, as frora the corapositions to which he alluded : but, nevertheless, I listened to him very attentively ; and I only wish that my raemory would serve me, that I might repeat to you all the fine things he said in praise of a multitude of authors, of whom, however, it is more than probable you never heard, and of works that it is hardly pos sible you should have ever seen. It would be difficult to give you any just idea of the energy and enthusiasm which he raanifested on this subject. His eyes alraost started frora his head, and the blood rushed over his face and teraples, when one of the party hinted that the taste in which most of these works were composed was not of the most dassic 366 M. BALZAC. elegance, nor their apparent object any very high degree of moral utility. It is a well-known fact that people are seldom angry when they are quite in the right ; and I believe it is equally rare to see such an extreraity of veheraence as this individual displayed in as serting the high intellectual clairas of his favour ites exhibited on any question where reason and truth are on the side espoused by the speaker. I never saw the veins of the forehead swell in an atterapt to prove that " Haralet" was a fine tragedy, or that " Ivanhoe" was a fine roraance ; but on this occasion raost of the corapany shrank into silence before the irapassioned pleadings of this advocate for .... raodern French histori ettes. In the course of the discussion many young naraes were cited ; and when a few very palpable hits were made to tell on the literary reputa tions of sorae among them, the critic seemed suddenly determined to shake off all slighter skirraishing, and to defend the broad battle-field of the cause under the distinguished banner of M. Balzac himself. And here, I confess, he had most decidedly the advantage of rae ; for ray acquaintance with the writings of this gentle man was exceedingly slight and superficial, — whereas he appeared to have studied every Une he has ever written, with a feeling of reverence "LA PEAU DE CHAGRIN." 367 that seemed almost to bear a character of reli gious devotion. Araong raany of his works whose naraes he cited with enthusiasra, that entitled "La Peau de Chagrin" was the one which evi dently raised his spirit to the raost exalted pitch. It is difficult to iraagine adrairation and delight expressed raore forcibly; and as I had never read a single line of this " Peau de Chagrin," my preconceived notions of the merit of M. Balzac's compositions really gave way before his enthu siasra ; and I not only raade a silent resolution to peruse this incomparable work with as little delay as possible, but I do assure you that I really and truly expected to find in it some very striking traits of genius, and a perfection of na tural feeling and deep pathos which could not fail to give rae pleasure, whatever I raight think of the tone of its principles or the correctness of its raoral tendency. Early then on the following raorning I sent for " La Peau de Chagrin." ... I have not the sUghtest wish or intention of entering into a cri tical exaraination of its merits ; it would be hardly possible, I think, to occupy time more unpro fitably : but as every author raakes use of his preface to speak in his own person, whatever one finds written there assuraing the form of a literary dictum may be quoted with propriety as furnish ing the best and fairest testimony of his opinions. 368 PREFACE TO and I will therefore take the liberty of tran scribing a few short sentences from the preface of M. Balzac, for the purpose of directing your attention to the theory upon which it is his in tention to raise his literary reputation. The preface to " La Peau de Chagrin" appears to be written chiefly for the purpose of excusing the licentiousness of a forraer work entitled " La Physiologic du Mariage." In speaking of this work he says, frankly enough certainly, that it was written as " une tentative faite pour re- tourner k la litterature fine, vive, railleuse et gaie du dix-huitierae sieele, ou les auteurs ne se tenaient pas toujours droits et raides .... L'auteur de ce livre cherche k favoriser la re action litteraire que preparent certains bons es prits . . . II ne coraprend pas la pruderie, I'hypo- crisie de nos raoeurs, et refuse, du reste, aux gens biases le droit d'etre difficiles." This is telling his readers fairly enough what they have to expect ; and if after this they will persist in plunging headlong into the raud which nearly a century of constantly-increasing refine ment has gone far to drag us out of . . . why they must. As another reason why his pen has done . . . what it has done, M. Balzac teUs us that it is absolutely necessary to have something in a genre unlike anything that the public has lately been " LA PEAU DE CHAGRIN." 369 famiUar with. He says that the reading world (which is in fact aU the world) " est las au jourd'hui" .... of a great many different styles of coraposition which he enuraerates, suraraing up all with . . . " et I'Histoire de France, Walter- Scottee .... Que nous reste-t-il done ?" he con tinues. " Si le public condarane les efforts des ecrivains qui essaient de reraettre en honneur la litterature _/rflwcAe de nos anc^tres . . ." As another speciraen of the theories of these new immortals, let me also quote the following sentence : — " Si Polyeucte n'existait pas, plus d'un pofete raoderne est capable de refaire CorneiUe.' Again, as a reason for going back to the tone of literature which he has chosen, he says, — " Les auteurs ont souvent raison dans leurs iraperti- nences contre le teras present. Le raonde nous deraande de belles peintures — on en seraient les types ? Vos habits mesquins — vos revolutions manquees — vos bourgeois discoureurs — votre re ligion morte — vos pouvoirs eteints — vos rois en de- rai-solde — sont-ils done si poetiques qu'il faiUe vous les transfigurer? . . . Nous ne pouvons aujourd'hui que nous moquer — la raillerie est toute la littera ture des sod etes expirantes." M. Balzac concludes this curious essay on mo dern literature thus : — " Enfin, le tems present marche si vite — la vie inteUectuelle deborde par- tout avec tant de force, que plusieurs idees ont VOL, II, ^ ^ 370 BALZAC'S PREFATORY APOLOGY. vieilli pendant que l'auteur impriraait son ou vrage," This last phrase is adrairable, and gives the best and clearest idea of the notions of the school on the subject of coraposition that I have any where met with. Iraagine Shakspeare and Spen ser, Swift and Pope, Voltaire and Rousseau, pub lishing a work with a sirailar prefatory apology! . . . But M, Balzac is quite right. The ideas that are generated to-day will be old to-morrow, and dead and buried the day after, I should indeed be truly sorry to differ frora hira on this point ; for herein lies the only consolation that the wisdora of man can suggest for the heavy calaraity of wit nessing the unprecedented perversion ofthe huraan understanding which raarks the present hour. It will' NOT LAST : Coraraou Sense will reclaira her rights, and our chUdren wUl learn to laugh at these spasmodic efforts to be great and original as cordially as Cervantes did at the chronicles of knight-errantry which turned his hero's brain. 371 LETTER LXXII. Breaking-up of the Paris season. — Soir6e at Madarae R^camier's. — Recitation. — Storm. — Disappointment. — Atonement. — Farewell . My letters frora Paris, my dear friend, raust now be brought to a close — and perhaps you will say that it is high time it should be so. The sum raer sun has in truth got so high into the heavens, that its perpendicular bearas are beginning to make all the gay folks in Paris fret — or, at any rate, run away. Everybody we see is preparing to be off in some direction or other, — sorae to the sea, some to philosophise under the shadow of their own vines, and some, happier than all the rest, to visit the enchanting watering-places of lovely Gerraany. We too have at length fixed the day for our departure, and this is positively the last letter you will receive from me dated from the beauteous capital of the Great Nation. It is lucky for our sensibiUties, or for our love of pleasure, or for any other feeling that goes to make up the disagreeable emotion usually produced by saying fareweU to scenes where we have been very happy, that the 2 B 2 372 LAFOND'S RECITAL OF VERSES majority of those whose society raade them de lightful are going to say farewell to them likewise : leaving Paris a raonth ago would have been a much more dismal business to us than leaving it now. Our last soiree has been passed at the Abbaye- aux-Bois; and often as I have taken you there already, I must desci;ibe this last evening, because the manner in which we passed it was raore es sentially un-English than any other. About ten days before this our farewell visit, we raet, at one of Madarae Recaraier's delightful reception-nights, a M. Lafond, a tragic actor of such distinguished raerit, that even in the days of Talraa he contrived, as I understand, to obtain a high reputation in Paris, though I do not believe his name is much known to us ; — in fact, the fame of Talraa so corapletely overshadowed every other in his own walk, that few actors of his day were remembered in England when the subject of the French drama was on the tapis. On the evening we met this gentieraan at the Abbaye-aux-Bois, he was prevailed upon by our charraing hostess (to whom I suspect that nobody can be found tough enough to pronounce a refusal of anything she asks) to recite a very spirited ad dress frora the pen of Casirair Delavigne to the people of Rouen, which M. Lafond had publicly spoken in the theatre of that city when the statue IN HONOUR OF RACINE. 373 of Racine, who was native to it, was erected there. The verses are good, full of fervour, spirit and true poetical feeling, and the raanner in which they were spoken by M. Lafond gave thera their full effect. The whole scene was, indeed, striking and beautiful. A circle of elegant woraen, — araong whora, by the way, was a niece of Napo leon's, — surrounded the performer: the gentlemen were stationed in groups behind them ; while the inspired figure of Gerard's Corinne, strongly brought forward frora the rest of the picture by a very skilful arrangeraent of laraps concealed frora the eye of the spectator, really looked like the Genius of Poetry standing apart in her own proper atrao sphere of golden light to listen to the honours rendered to one of her favourite sons. I was greatly delighted ; and Madarae Recaraier, who perceived the pleasure which this recitation gave rae, proposed to rae that I should come to her on a future evening to hear M. Lafond read a play of Racine's. No proposition could have been more agreeable to us all. The party was iraraediately arranged; M. Lafond proraised to be punctually there at the hour naraed, and we returned horae weU pleased to think that the last soiree we should pass in Paris would be occupied so delightfully. Last night was the time fixed for this engage- 374 A STORM. ment. The morning was fair, but there was no movement in the air, and the heat was intense. As the day advanced, thick clouds carae to shelter us frora the sun while we set forth to raake sorae of our last farewell calls ; but they brought no cool ness with thera, and their glooray shade afforded little relief frora the heavy heat that oppressed us : on the contrary, the sultry weight of the atraosphere seeraed to increase every moraent, and we were soon driven horae by the orainous black ness which appeared to rest on every object, giv ing very intelligible notice of a violent suramer- storm. It was not, however, till late in the evening that the full fury of this threatened deluge fell upon Paris ; but about nine o'clock it really seem ed as if an ocean had broken through the dark canopy above us, so violent were the torrents of rain which then fell in one vast waterspout upon her roofs. We Ustened to the rushing sound with very considerable uneasiness, for our anxious thoughts were fixed upon our promised visit to the Abbaye- aux-Bois ; and we iraraediately gave orders that the porter's scout — a sturdy little personage well known to be good at need — should be despatched without a raoraent's delay for a fiacre : and you never, I am sure, saw a raore blank set of faces than those exhibited in our drawing-room when A STORM. 375 the tidings reached us that not a single voiture could be found ! After a raoraent's consultation, it was decided that the experienced porter hiraself should be hurably requested to run the risk of being drown ed in one direction, while his attendant satellite again dared the sarae fate in another. This prorapt and spirited decision produced at length the desired effect ; and after another feverish half- hour of expectation, we had the inexpressible delight of finding ourselves safely enveloped in cloaks, which rendered it highly probable we raight be able to step frora the vehicle without getting wet to the skin, and deposited in the corners of one of those curiously-contrived swing ing machines, whose motion is such that nothing but long practice or the most vigilant care can enable you to endure without losing your ba lance, and running a very dangerous tilt against the head of your opposite neighbour with your own. I never quitted the shelter of a roof in so un merciful a night. The rain battered the top of our vehicle as if enraged at the opposition it pre sented to its impetuous descent upon the earth. The thunder roared loud above the rattling and creaking of all the crazy wheels we met, as well as the ceaseless grinding of those w-hich carried us ; and the lightning flashed with such rapidity and 376 SOIREE AT THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS, brightness, that the very mud we dashed through seeraed iUurainated. The effect of this storm as we passed the Pont Neuf was really beautiful. One instant our eyes looked out upon the thickest darkness ; and the next, the old towers of Notre Dame, the pointed roofs of the Palais de Justice, and the fine bold elevation of St, Jacques, were "instant seen and instant gone." One bright blue flash feU fuU, as we dashed by it, on the noble figure of Henri Quatre, and the statua gentiUssima, horse and all, looked as ghastly and as spectre-like as heart could wish. ^ At length we reached the lofty iron grille of the venerable Abbaye, The araple court was filled with carriages : we felt that we were late, and hastening up the spacious stairs, in a raoment found ourselves in a region as different as possible from that we had left. Instead of darkness, we were surrounded by a flood of light ; rain and the howling blast were exchanged for smiles and gentle greetings ; and the growling thunder of the storm, for the sweet voice of Madame Recaraier, which told us however that M. Lafond was not yet arrived. As the party expected was a large one, it was Miss C 's noble saloon that received us. It was already nearly fuU, but its stately raonastic doors still continued to open frora time to time A DISAPPOLNTMENT, 377 for the reception of new arrivals — yet stiU M. Lafond came not. At length, when disappointraent was beginning to take place of expectation, a note arrived frora the tragedian to Madarae Recaraier, stating that the deluge of rain which had fallen rendered the streets of Paris utterly irapassable without a car riage, and the sarae cause raade it absolutely ira possible to procure one ; ergo, we could have no M. Lafond — no Racine. Such a contre-teras as this, however, is by no raeans very difficult to bear at the Abbaye- aux-Bois. But Madarae Recamier appeared very sorry for it, though nobody else did ; and admi rable as M. Lafond's reading is known to be, I am persuaded that the idea of her being vexed by his failing to appear caused infinitely more regret to every one present than the loss of a dozen tra gedies could have done. And then it was that the spirit of genuine French amabilite shone forth ; and in order to chase whatever was disagreeable in this change in the destination of our evening's occupations, one of the gentlemen present most good-huraouredly consented to recite some verses of his own, which, both from their own merit, and frora the graceful and amiable raanner in which they were given, were well calculated to reraove every shadow of dissatisfaction from all who heard thera. 378 MADAME RECAMIER. This example was imraediately followed in the sarae delightful spirit by another, who in Uke manner gave us more than one proof of his own poetic power, as well as of that charraing national amenity of manner which knows so weU how to round and polish every rough and jutting corner which untoward accidents may and must occa sionally throw across the path of life. One of the pieces thus recited was an extreme ly pretty legend, called, if I raistake not, " Les Soeurs Grises," in which there is a sweet and touching description of a feraale character raade up of softness, goodness, and grace. As this de scription fell trait by trait frora the lips of the poet, raany an eye turned involuntarily towards Madarae Recaraier; and the Duchesse d'Abrantes, near whora I was sitting, making a slight raove raent of the hand in the sarne direction, said in a half whisper, — " C'est bien eUe !" ****** On the whole, therefore, our disappointraent was but Ughtly felt ; and when we rose to quit this deUghtful Abbaye-aux-Bois for the last tirae, aU the regret of which we were conscious arose from recollecting how doubtful it was whether we should ever find ourselves within its vene rable walls again. 379 POSTSCRIPT. The letters which are herewith presented to the public contain nothing beyond passing notices of such objects as chiefly attracted ray attention during nine very agreeable weeks passed amidst the care-killing arauseraents of Paris. I hardly know what they contain ; for though I have certainly been desirous of giving ray correspond ent, as far as I was able, sorae idea of Paris at the present day, I have been at least equally anxious to avoid everything approaching to so presuraptuous an attempt as it would have been to give a detailed history of all that was going on there during the period of our stay. These letters, therefore, have been designedly as unconnected as possible : I have in this been decousu upon principle, and would rather have given a regular journal, after the manner of Lloyd's List, noting all the dUigences which have come in and gone out of "la belle ville" during ray stay there, than have atterapted to analyse and define the many unintelligible in congruities which appeared to me to raark the race and raark the tirae. 380 POSTSCRIPT. But though I felt quite incapable of phUoso- phicaUy examining this copious subject, or, in fact, of going one inch beneath the surface while describing the outward aspect of all around me, I cannot but confess that the very incongruity which I dared not pretend to analyse appeared to me by far the most remarkable feature in the pre sent state of the country. There has, I know, always been something of this kind attributed to the French character. Splendour and poverty — grace and grimace — de licacy and filth — learning and folly — science and frivoUty, have often been observed among them in a closeness of juxta-position quite unexampled elsewhere ; but of late it has becorae infinitely more conspicuous, — or rather, perhaps, this want of consistency has seemed to embrace objects of raore importance than formerly. Heretofore, though it was often suspected in graver matters, it was openly demonstrated only on points which concerned the externals of society rather than the vital interests of the country ; but from the re raoval of that restraint which old laws, old cus toras, and old authority imposed upon the public acts of the people, the unsettled temper of mind which in tirae past showed itself only in what raight, comparatively speaking, be called trifles, may in these latter days be traced without much difficulty in affairs of much greater moraent. No one of any party wiU now deny, I believe. POSTSCRIPT. 381 that many things which by their very nature appear to be incompatible have been lately seen to exist in Paris, side by side, in a raanner which certainly reserabled nothing that could be found elsewhere. As instances of this kind pressed upon rae, I have sometimes felt as if I had got behind the scenes of a theatre, and that all sorts of materials, for all sorts of performances, were jumbled to gether around me, that they raight be ready at a raoraent's notice if called for. Here a crown — there a cap of liberty. On this peg, a raantle erabroidered with fleurs-de-lis ; on that, a tri- coloured flag. In one corner, all the paraphernalia necessary to deck out the porap and pageantry of the Catholic church ; and in another, all the syrabols that can be found which raight enable thera to show respect and honour to Jews, Turks, infidels, and heretics. In this departraent raight be seen very noble preparations to support a grand railitary spectacle ; and in that, all the prettiest pageants in the world, to typify eternal peace. I saw all these things, for it was impossible not to see thera ; but as to the scene-shifters who were to prepare the different tableaux, I in truth knew nothing about them. Their trap-doors, wires, and other raachinery were very wisely kept out of sight of such eyes as raine ; for had I known anything of the raatter, I should most 382 POSTSCRIPT. assuredly have told it all, which would greatly tend to mar the effect of the next change of decorations. It was with this feeling, and in this spirit of purely superficial observation, that the foregoing letters were written ; but, ere I commit them to the press, I wish to add a few graver thoughts which rest upon my mind as the result of all that I saw and heard while at Paris, connected as they now are with the eventful changes which have occurred in the short interval that has elapsed since I left it. " The country is in a state of transition," is a phrase which I have often listened to, and often been disposed to laugh at, as a sort of oracular interpretation of paradoxes which, in truth, no one could understand : but the phrase may now be used without any Delphic obscurity. France was indeed in a state of transition exactly at the period of which I have been writing ; but this uncertain state is past, nearly all the puzzling anoraalies which so completely defied interpreta tion have disappeared, and it may now be fairly permitted, to siraple-rainded travellers who pre tend not to any conjuring skill, to guess a little what she is about. I revisited France with that aniraating sensa tion of pleasure which arises frora the hope of reviving old and agreeable impressions ; but this POSTSCRIPT. 383 pleasure was nevertheless dashed with such feel ing of regret as an EngUsh conservative raay be supposed to feel for the popular violence which had banished frora her throne its legitiraate sovereign. As an abstract question of right and wrong, ray opinion of this act cannot change; but the deed is done, — France has chosen to set aside the claira of the prince who by the law of here ditary succession has a right to the crown, in favour of another prince of the sarae royal line, whom in her policy she deems raore capable of insuring the prosperity of the country. The deed is done ; and the welfare of tens of raiUions who had, perhaps, no active share in bringing it about now hangs upon the continuance of the tranquiUity which has followed the change. However deep therefore may be the respect felt for those who, having sworn fealty to Charles the Tenth, continue steadfastly undeviating in their declaration of his right, and firm in their refusal to recognise that of any other, still a stranger and sojourner in the land may honestly acknowledge the belief that the prosperity of France at the present hour depends upon her allegiance to the king she has chosen, without being accused of advocating the cause of revo lution. To judge fairly of France as she actually exists. 384 POSTSCRIPT. it is absolutely necessary to throw aside all rae mory of the purer course she raight have pursued five years ago, by the teraperate pleading of her chartered rights, to obtain redress of such evils as really existed. The popular claraour which rose and did the work of revolution, though it originated with factious demagogues and idle boys, left the new power it had set in action in the hands of men capable of redeeming the noble country they were called to govern from the state of disjointed weakness in which they found it. The task has been one of alraost unequalled difficulty and peril ; but every day gives greater confidence to the hope, that after forty years of blundering, blustering policy, and changes so raul tiplied as to render the very narae of revolution ridiculous, this superb kingdora, so long our rival, and now, as we firraly trust, our raost assured ally, will establish her government on a basis firm enough to strengthen the cause of social order and happiness throughout all Europe. The days, thank Heaven ! are past when Eng lishmen believed it patriotic to deny their Gallic neighbours every faculty except those of making a bow and of eating a frog, while they were re paid by all the weighty satire comprised in the two impressive words John Bull. We now know each other better — we have had a long fight, and we shake hands across the water with POSTSCRIPT. 385 all the mutual good-will and respect which is generated by a hard struggle, bravely sustained on both sides, and finally terminated by a hearty reconciliation. The position, the prospects, the prosperity of France are become a subject of the deepest inter est to the EngUsh nation ; and it is therefore that the observations of any one who has been a re cent looker-on there raay have sorae value, even though they are professedly drawn from the sur face only. But when did ever the surface of hu man affairs present an aspect so full of interest ? Now that so many of the circumstances which have been alluded to above as puzzling and incon gruous have been interpreted by the unexpected events which have lately crowded upon each other, I feel aware that I have indeed been looking on upon the denoueraent of one of the raost interest ing political draraas that ever was enacted. The raoveraents of King Philippe remind one of those by which a bold rider settles himself in the sad dle, when he has raade up his mind for a roiigh ride, and is quite determined not to be thrown. When he first raounted, indeed, he took his seat less firraly ; one groora held the stirrup, another the reins : he felt doubtful how far he should be likely to go — the weather looked cloudy — he raight disraount directly .... But soon the sun hurst frora behind the cloud that threatened hira : VOL. n. 2 c 386 POSTSCRIPT. Now for it, then ! neck or nothing I He orders his girths to be tightened, his curb to be well set, and the reins fairly and horseraanly put into his hands .... Now he is off ! and raay his ride be prosperous ! — for should he fall, it is impossible to guess how the dust which such a catastrophe might raise would settle itself. The interest which his situation excites is suffi ciently awakening, and produces a species of ro mantic feeling, that may be corapared to what the spectators experienced in the tournaraents of old, when they sat quietly by to watch the result of a corabat a outrance. But greater, far greater is the interest produced by getting a near view of the wishes and hopes of the great people who have placed their destinies in his hands. Nothing that is going on in Paris — in the Charaber of Deputies, in the Charaber of Peers, or even in the Cabinet of the King — could touch rae so rauch, or give rae half so much pleasure to listen to, as the tone in which I have heard sorae of the raost distinguished men in France speak of the repeated changes and revolutions in her go vernment. It is not in one or two instances only that I have remarked this tone, — in fact, I might say that I have raet it whenever I was in the society of those whose opinions especially deserved atten- POSTSCRIPT. 387 tion. I hardly know, however, how to describe it, for it cannot be done by repeating isolated phrases and observations. I should say, that it marks distinctly a consciousness that such fre quent changes are not creditable to any nation — that they feel half asharaed to talk of thera grave ly, yet raore than half vexed to speak of the land they love with anything approaching to lightness or conterapt. That the men of whora I speak do love their country with a true, devoted. Roman like attachment, I ara quite sure ; and I never re meraber to have felt the conviction that I was listening to real patriots so strongly as when I have heard thera reason on the causes, deplore the effects, and deprecate the recurrence of these dire ful and devastating convulsions. It is, if I raistake not, this noble feeling of wishing to preserve their country from the dis grace of any farther demonstrations of such frail inconstancy, which will tend to keep Louis-Phi Uppe on his throne as rauch, or even raore per haps, than that newly-awakened energy in favour of the boutique and the bourse of which we hear so rauch. It is nowise surprising that this proud but vir tuous sentiraent should yet exist, notwithstanding all that has happened to check and to chUl it. Frenchraen have stiU rauch of which they raay 2 c 2 388 POSTSCRIPT. justly boast. After a greater continuance of ex ternal war and internal coraraotion than perhaps any country was ever exposed to within the sarae space of time, France is in no degree behind the raost favoured nations of Europe in any one of the advantages which have ever been considered as araong the especial blessings of peace, Tre raendous as have been her efforts and her strug gles, the raarch of science has never faltered : the fine arts have been cherished with unrerait- ting zeal and a raost constant care, even while every dtizen was a soldier ; and now, in this breathing-tirae that Heaven has granted her, she presents a spectacle of hopeful industry, active improvement, and prosperous energy, which is un equaUed, I believe, in any European country ex cept our own. Can we wonder, then, that the nation is disposed to rally round a prince whom Fate seeras to have given expressly as an anchor to keep her firm and steady through the heavy sweU that the late storms have left ? Can we wonder that feeUngs, and even principles, are found to bend before an influ ence so salutary and so strong ? However irregular the raanner in which he ascended the throne, Louis-Philippe had himself little more to do with it than yielding to the voice of the triumphant party who called upon him to inount its troublesorae pre-erainence ; and at the POSTSCRIPT. 389 raoraent he did so, he raight very fairly have ex clairaed — " If chance will have me king, why chance may crown me Without my stir." Never certainly did any event brought on by tumult and confusion give such fair proraise of producing eventually the reverse, as the acces sion of King Louis -PhUippe to the throne of France. The manner of this unexpected change itself, the scenes which led to it, and even the state of parties and of feelings which came afterwards, all bore a character of unsettled confusion which threatened every species of raisery to the country. When we look back upon this period, all the events which occurred during the course of it ap pear like the rough and ill-assorted fragments of worsted on the reverse of a piece of tapestry. No one could guess, not even the agents in them, what the final result would be. But they were at work upon a design drawn by the all-powerful and unerring hand of Providence; and strange as the medley has appeared to us during the pro cess, the whole when corapleted seeras likely to produce an excellent effect. The incongruous eleraents, however, of which the chaos was coraposed frora whence this new 390 POSTSCRIPT. order of things was to arise, though daily and by slow degrees assuraing shape and forra, were still in a state of " most adraired disorder " during our abode in Paris. It was impossible to guess where unto all those things tended which were evident ly in raoveraent around us ; and the signs of the times were in many instances so contrary to each other, that nothing was left for those who carae to view the land, but to gaze — to wonder, and pass on, without atterapting to reconcile contra dictions so totally uninteUigible. But, during the few weeks that have elapsed since I left the capital of France, this obscurity has been dispersed like a mist. It was the ex plosion of an infernal raachine that scattered it ;. but it is the light of heaven that now shines upon the land, raaking visible to the whole world on what foundation rest its hopes, and by what means they shall be brought to fruition. Never, perhaps, did even a successful attempt upon the Ufe of an individual produce results so iraportant as those Ukely to ensue from the failure of the atrocious plot against the King of the French and his sons. It has roused the whole nation as a sleeping army is roused by the sound of a trumpet. The indifferent, the doubting — nay, even the adverse, are now bound together by one comraon feeUng : an assassin has raised his daring arra against France, and France in an POSTSCRIPT. 391 instant assuraes an attitude so firra, so bold, so steady, and so powerful, that aU her eneraies raust quail before it. As for the wretched faction who sent forth this bloody agent to do their work, they stand now before the face of aU men in the broad Ught of truth. High and noble natures raay soraetiraes reason amiss, and raay raistake the worse cause for the better; but however deeply this raay involve them in error, it wiU not lead them one inch towards crime. Such men have nothing in comraon with the republicans of 1835. From their earliest existence as a party, these republicans have avowed themselves the unre lenting eneraies of all the powers that be : social order, and all that sustains it, is their abhorrence ; and neither honour, conscience, nor huraanity has force sufficient to restrain thera frora the raost hideous criraes when its destruction is the object proposed. Honest men of all shades of political opinion must agree in considering this unbridled faction as the coramon enemies ofthe human race. In every struggle to sustain the laws which bind society together, their hand is against every man; and the inevitable consequence must and wiU be, that every raan's hand shall be against thera. Deplorable therefore as were the consequences of the Fieschi plot in its partial raurderous success, it is likely to prove in its ultimate result of the 392 POSTSCRIPT. most iraportant and lasting benefit to France. It has given union and strength to her councUs, energy and boldness to her acts ; and if it be the will of Heaven that anything shall stay the plague of insurrection and revolt which, with infection more fearful than that of the Asiatic pest, has tainted the air of Europe with its poisonous breath, it is from France, where the evil first arose, that the antidote to it is raost likely to come. It will be in vain that any republican claraour shall atterapt to stigraatise the acts of the French legislature with the odiura of an undue and tyran nical use of the power which it has been cora pelled to assurae. The system upon which this legislature has bound itself to act is in its very nature incompatible with individual power and individual arabition : its acts raay be absolute — and high tirae is it that they should be so, — but the absolutism will not be that of an autocrat. The theory of the doctrinaire governraent is not so well, or at least so generally, understood as it wUl be ; but every day is raaking it better known to Europe, — and whether the new principles on which it is founded be approved or not, its power wUl be seen to rest upon thera, and not upon the tyrannical will of any man or body of men whatever. It is not uncommon to hear persons declare that they understand no difference between the POSTSCRIPT. 398 juste-miUeu party and that of the doctrinaires; but they cannot have Ustened very attentively to the reasonings of either party. The juste-railieu party, if I understand them aright, consists of politicians whose principles are in exact conformity to the expressive title they have chosen. They approve neither of a pure despotisra nor of a pure deraocracy, but plead for a justly-balanced constitutional governraent with a raonarch at its head. The doctrinaires are much less definite in their - specification of the form of governraent which they believe the circumstances of France to require. It raight be thought indeed, frora some of their spe culations, that they were almost indifferent as to what form the government should assume, or by what name it should be known to the world, pro vided always that it have within itself power and efficacy sufficient to adopt and carry into vigorous effect such measures as its chiefs shall deem most beneficial to the country for the time being, A government formed on these principles can pledge itself by no guarantee to any particular line of politics, and the country raust rest contented in the belief that its interests shall be cared for by those who are placed in a situation to control thera. Upon these principles, it is evident that the circurastances in which the country is placed. 394 POSTSCRIPT. internaUy and externally, raust regulate the policy of her cabinet, and not any abstract theory con nected with the narae assuraed by her governraent. Thus despotism may be the offspring of a repub lic ; and liberty, the gift of a dynasty which has reigned for ages by right divine. M, de Carne, a political writer of much abUity, in his essay on parties and " le raouveraent actuel," ridicules in a spirit of keen satire the idea that any order of raen in France at the present day should be supposed to interest theraselves seriously for any abstract political opinion. " Croit-on bien s^rieuseraent encore," he says, " au mecanisrae constitutionnel — k la multiplicite de ses poids et contre-poids — k I'inviolabilite sacr^e de la pensee dirigeante, combin^e avec la respon- sabilite d'argent ?" .... And again he says, — " Est-U beaucoup d'esprits graves qui attachent aujourd'hui une iraportancfe de preraier ordre pour le bien-etre moral et mate riel de la race humaine a la substitution d'une presidence americaine, k la royaute de 1830 ?" It is evident frora the tone sustained through the whole of this ingenious essay, that it is the object of M. Carne to convince his readers of the equal and total futUity of every political creed founded on any fixed and abstract principle. Who is it, he asks, " qui a etabU en France un des potisme dont on ne trouve d'exeraple qu'en remon- POSTSCRIPT, 395 tant aux raonarchies de I'Asie? — Napoleon lequel regnait corarae les Cesars Remains, en vertu de la souverainete du peuple. Qui a fonde, apres tant d'impuissantes tentatives, une Uberte serieuse, et I'a fait entrer dans nos moeurs au point de ne pou voir plus lui resister? — La maison de Bourbon, qui regnait par le droit divin." In advocating this system of intrusting the right as well as the power of governing a country to the hands of its rulers, without exacting from thera a pledge that their measures shall be guided by theoretical instead of practical wisdora, M." Carne naturally refers to his own — that is to say, the doctrinaire party, and expresses hiraself thus : — " Cette disposition k chercher dans les circon- stances et dans la morale privee la seule regie d'action politique, a donne naissance cl un parti qui s'est trop hit^ de se produire, mais chez lequel il y a assez d'avenir pour resister a ses propres fautes, II serait difficile d'en forrauler le prograrame, si vaporeux encore, autreraent qu'en disant qu'il s'attache k substituer I'etude des lois de la richesse pubUque aux speculations constitutionnelles, dont le principal resultat est d'equilibrer sur le papier des forces qui se deplacent inevitableraent dans leur action," It is certainly possible that this distaste for pledging theraselves to any form or systera of governraent, and the apparent readiness to accora- 396 POSTSCRIPT. raodate their principles to the exigences of the hour, may be as much the result of weariness arising from all the restless experiraents they have raade, as frora conviction that this loose mode of wearing a political colour, ready to drop it, or change it according to circurastances, is in reality the best condition in which a great nation can place itself. It can hardly be doubted that the French peo ple have become as weary of changes and ex periraents as their neighbours are of watching thera. They have tried revolutions of every size and forra till they are satiated, and their spirits are worn out and exhausted by the labour of raaking new projects of laws, new charters, and new kings. It is, in truth, contrary to their nature to be kept so long at work. No people in the world, perhaps, have equal energy in spring ing forward to answer some sudden call, whether it be to pull down a Bastile with Lafayette, to overturn a throne with Robespierre, to overrun Europe with Napoleon, or to reorganise a mon archy with Louis-PhiUppe, All these deeds could ' be done with enthusiasm, and therefore they were natural to Frenchraen. But that the mass of the people should for long years together check their gay spirits, and submit themselves, without the recompense of any striking stage effect, to pi'ose over the thorny theories of untried govern raents, is quite impossible,— for such a state would POSTSCRIPT, 397 be utterly hostile to the strongest propensities of the people. " Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop," It is for this reason that " la loi bour geois^' has been proclaimed ; which being inter preted, certainly means the law of being con tented to reraain as they are, raaking themselves as rich and as corafortable as they possibly can, under the shelter of a king who has the will and the power to protect thera, M. Carnd truly says, — " Le plus puissant ar guraent que puisse eraployer la royaute pour tenir en respect la bourgeoisie, est celui dont usait I'as- trologue de Lous Onze pour avoir raison des capri- cieuses vell^ites de son raattre, — ' Je raourrai juste trois jours avant votre raajestfe.' This quotation, though it sound not very courtier-like, raay be uttered before Louis-Phi lippe without offence ; for it is irapossible, let one's previous political bias have been what it will, not to perceive in every act of his govern raent a firra deterraination to support and sustain in honour and in safety the order of things which it has established, or to perish ; and the conse quence of this straightforward policy is, that thou sands and tens of thousands who at first acknow ledged his rule only to escape frora anarchy, now cling to it, not only as a present shelter, but as a powerful and sure defence against the return of the raiserable vicissitudes to which they have been so long exposed. 398 POSTSCRIPT. Among many obvious advantages which the comprehensive principles of the " doctrine" offered to France under the peculiar circumstances in which she was placed at the tirae it was first pro-. pagated, was, that it offered a coraraon resting- place to all who were weary of revolutions, let thera be of what party they would. This is well expressed by M, Came when he says, — " Ce parti serable appeie, par ce qu'il a de vague en lui, k devenir le syrapathique lien de ces norabreuses intelligences devoyees qui ont penetre le vide de I'idee politique," There cannot, I think, be a happier phrase to describe the host who have bewildered theraselves in the interrainable mazes of a science so little understood by the raultitude, than this of " intelli gences devoyees qui ont penetre le vide de I'idee poli tique." For these, it is indeed a blessing to have found one coramon name (vague though it be) under which they may all shelter theraselves, and, without the slightest reproach to the consistency of their patriotism, join heart and hand in sup port of a governraent which has so ably con trived to " draw golden opinions frora aU sorts of raen," In turning over the pages of Hurae's History in pursuit of a particular passage, I accidentally carae upon his short and pithy sketch of the character and position of our Henry the Seventh, POSTSCRIPT. 399 In many points it approaches very nearly to what raight be said of Louis-Philippe. " The personal character of the man was fuU of vigour, industry, and severity ; deliberate in all his projects, steady in every purpose, and attend ed with caution, as well as good fortune, in each enterprise. He came to the throne after long and bloody civil wars. The nation was tired with discord and intestine convulsions, and willing to subrait to usurpations and even injuries rather than plunge themselves anew into like miseries. The fruitless efforts made against him served al ways, as is usual, to confirra his authority." Such a passage as this, and sorae others with which I occasionally indulge rayself from the records of the days that are gone, have in thera a raost consoling tendency. We are apt to be lieve that the scenes we are painfully witnessing contain, araidst the raaterials of which they are forraed, eleraents of raischief raore terrible than ever before threatened the tranquillity of raan kind; yet a little recollection, and a little con fidence in the Providence so visible in every page of the world's history, raay suffice to inspire us with better hopes for the future than sorae of our doubting spirits have courage to anticipate. "The fruitless efforts raade against" King Philippe " have served to confirm his authority," and have done the sarae good office to hira that 400 POSTSCRIPT. similar outrages did to our " princely Tudor " in the fourteenth century. The people were sick of " discord and intestine convulsions " in his days : so are they at the present tirae in France ; so will they be again, at no very distant period, in Eng land. While congratulating the country I have so re cently left, as I do most heartily, on the very es sential improvements which have taken place since my departure, I feel as if I ought to apologise for some statements to be found in the preceding pages of these voluraes which if raade now raight fairly be challenged as untrue. But during the last few months, letters from France should have been both written and read post-haste, or the news they contained would not be of much worth. We left Paris towards the end of June, and be fore the end of July the whole moral condition of France had received a shock, and undergone a change which, though it does not falsify any of my statements, renders it necessary at least that the tense of many of them should be altered. Thus, when I say that an unbounded license in caricaturing prevails, and that the waUs of the capital are scrawled over with grotesque repre sentations of the sovereign, the errata should have — "for prevails, read did prevail; for are, read were ;" and the Uke in many other instances. The task of declaring that such statements are POSTSCRIPT. 401 no longer correct is, however, infinitely raore agreeable than that of making them. The daring profligacy of all kinds which was exposed to the eyes and the understanding at Paris before the establishraent of the laws, which have now taken the raorals of the people under their protection, was fast sinking the country into the worst and coarsest species of barbarisra ; and there is a sort of patriotism, not belonging to the kingdom, but to the planet that gave one birth, which must be gratified by seeing a check given to what tended to lower human nature itself. As a matter of hope, and consolation too, un der simUar evils which beset us at home, there is rauch satisfaction to be derived frora perceiving that, however inveterate the taint raay appear which unchecked licentiousness has brought upon a land, there is power enough in the hands of a vigorous and efficient raagistracy to stay its progress and wipe out the stain. A " Te Deura" for this cleansing law should be perforraed in every church in Christendora. ***** There is soraething assuredly of raore than coraraon political interest in the present position of France, interesting to aU Europe, but raost especially interesting to us. The wUdest de raocracy has been advocated by her press, and even in her senate. The highest court of justice VOL. II. 2 D 402 POSTSCRIPT, in the kingdora has not been held sufficiently sacred to prevent the utterance of opinions within it which, if acted upon, would have taken the sceptre frora the hands of the king and placed it in those of the raob. Her journals have poured forth the most unbridled abuse, the most unmi tigated execrations against the acts of the go vernment, and almost against the persons of its agents. And what has been the result of all this ? Steadily, tranquilly, firraly, and without a shadow of vacillation, has that governraent pro ceeded in perforraing the duties intrusted to it by the country. It has done nothing hastily, nothing rashly, nothing weakly. On first receiving the perilous deposit of a nation's welfare, — at a mo raent too when a thousand dangers frora within and without were threatening, — the raost cautious and consummate wisdora was raanifested, not only in what it did, but in what it did not do. Like a skilful general standing on the defensive, it reraained still a while, tiU the first headlong rush which was intended to dislodge it from its new position had passed by ; and when this was over, it contemplated well the ground, the force, and the resources placed under its comraand, before it stirred one step towards improving thera. When I recollect all the nonsense I listened to in Paris previous to the trial of the Lyons pri soners ; the prophecies that the king would not POSTSCRIPT. 403 DARE to persevere in it; the assurances from some that the populace would rise to rescue them, — from others, that the peers would refuse to sit in judgment, — and frora raore still, that if nothing of all this occurred in Paris, a counter-revolution would assuredly break out in the South ; — when I reraeraber all this, and corapare it to the steady raarch of daily-increasing power which has raark ed every act of this singularly vigorous govern raent frora that period to the present, I feel it difficult to laraent that, at this eventful epoch of the world's history, power should have faUen into hands so capable of using it wisely. Yet, with all this courage and boldness of de cision, there has been nothing reckless, nothing like indifference to public opinion, in the acts of the French government. The rainisters have uniforraly appeared willing to hear and to render reason respecting all the raeasures they have pur sued; and the king hiraself has never ceased to manifest the sarae temper of mind which, through all the vicissitudes of his reraarkable life, have rendered hira so universally popular. But it is quite clear that, whatever were the circurastances which led to his being placed on the throne of France, Louis-Philippe can never become the tool of a faction : I can well conceive hira replying, to any accusation brought against him, in the gentle but dignified words of AthaUe — 2 D 2 404 POSTSCRIPT. " Ce que j'ai fait, Abner, j'ai cru le devoir faire — Je ne prends point pour juge un peuple t6meraire." And who is there, of all thpse whora nature, for tune, and education have placed, as it were, in inevitable opposition to hira, but raust be forced to acknowledge that he is right ? None, I truly believe, — save only that unfortunate, bewildered, puzzle-headed set of politicians, the republicans, who seera still to hang together chiefly because no other party will have anything to say to them, and because they alone, of all the host of would- be lawgivers, dare not to seek for standing-room under the ample shelter of the doctrine, inasrauch as its raotto is "PubUc Order," and the well- known gathering word of their tribe is " Con fusion and Misrule." There are still raany persons, I believe, who, though nowise desirous theraselves of seeing any farther change in the government of France, yet still anticipate that change must corae, because they consider it impossible that this restless party can long remain quiet. I have heard several who wish heartily well to the governraent of Louis-Phi Uppe express very gloomy forebodings on this sub ject. They say, that however beneficial the pre sent order of things has been found for France, it is vain to hope it should long endure, contrary to the wish and wiU of so nuraerous a faction ; espe cially as the present government is formed on the POSTSCRIPT. 405 doctrine, that the protection of arts and industry, and the fostering of all the objects connected with that wealth and prosperity to which the restora tion of peace has led, should be its first object : whereas the republicans are ever ready to be up and doing in any cause that promises change and tumult, and will therefore be found, when ever a struggle shall arise, infinitely better pre pared to fight it out than the peaceable and well- contented majority, of whora they are the de clared enemies. I think, however, that such reasoners are alto gether wrong : they leave out of their considera tion one broad and palpable fact, which is, how ever, infinitely more iraportant than any other, — namely, that a repubUc is a form of government corapletely at variance with the spirit of the French people. That it has been already tried and found to fail, is only one among many proofs that might easily be brought forward to show this. That love of glory which all the world seems to agree in attributing to France us one of her most reraarkable national characteristics, raust ever prevent her placing the care of her dignity and her renown in the hands of a raob. It was in a raoment of "drunken enthusiasm" that her first degrading revolution was brought about; and deep as was the disgrace of it, no one can fairly say that the nation should be judged by the 406 POSTSCRIPT. wild acts then perpetrated. Everything that has since followed goes to establish the conviction, that France cannot exist as a repubUc, There is a love of public splendour in their nature that seems as much born with them as their black eyes ; and they must have, as a centre to that splendour, a king and a court, round which they may move, and to which they may do horaage in the face of Europe without fearing that their honour or their dignity can be corapro mised thereby. It has been said (by an English man) that the present is the governraent of the bourgeoisie, and that Louis-PhUippe is " un roi bourgeois." His Bourbon blood, however, saves him from this jest ; and if by " the government of the bourgeoisie" is raeant a cabinet composed of and sustained by the wealth of the country, as well as its talent and its nobility, there is nothing in the stateraent to shock either patrician pride or regal dignity. The splendid railitary pageant in which the French people followed the imperial knight-errant who led them as conquerors over half Europe, raight well have sufficient charm to make so war like a nation forget for a while all the blessings of peace, as well as the more enduring glory which advancing science and well-instructed industry might bring. But even had Napoleon not fallen, the deUriura of this military fever could not POSTSCRIPT. 407 have been rauch longer raistaken for national pro sperity by such a country as France ; and, happily for her, it was not perraitted to go on long enough to exhaust her strength so entirely as to prevent her repairing its effects, and starting with fresh vigour in a far nobler course. But even now, with objects and ambition so new and so widely different before their eyes, what is the period to which the raemory of the pepple turns with the greatest complacency ? . . . Is it to the Convention, or to the Directory ? — Is it to their miraicry of Roraan Consulships ? Alas ! for the classic young-headed repubUcans of France I .... they may not hope that their cherished vision can ever endure within the realm of St. Louis long enough to have its lictors' and its tribunes' robes definitively decided on. No ! it is not to this sort of schoolboy raura- mery that Gallic fancies best love to return, — but to that portentous interval when the bright blaze of a magnificent meteor shone upon their iron chains, and raade thera look like gold. If this be true — if it cannot be denied that the affections of the French people cling with raore gratitude to the splendid despotisra of Napoleon than to any other period of their history, is it to be greatly feared that they should turn frora the substantial power and farae that now " Flames in the forehead of the morning sky" 408 POSTSCRIPT. before their eyes, accorapanied as they are by the brightest proraise of individual prosperity and well-being, in order to plunge theraselves again into the raingled " blood and raire" with which their republic begriraed its altars ? Were there even no other assurance against such a deplorable effort at national self-destruction than that which is furnished by the cutting ridi cule so freely and so generally bestowed upon it, this alone, in a country where a laugh is so omni potent, raight suffice to reassure the spirits of the tiraid and the doubting. It has been said sturdily by a French interpreter of French feelings, that " si le diable sortait de I'enfer pour se battre, il se presenterait un Franifais pour accepter le d6fi." I dare say this raay be very true, provided said diable does not come to the combat equipped from the armoury of Ridicule, — in which case the French eharapion would, I think, be as likely to run away as not : and for this reason, if for no other, I truly believe it to be irapossible that any support should now be given in France to a party which has not only raade itself supremely detesta ble by its atrocities, but supremely ridiculous by its absurdities. It is needless to recapitulate here observations already made. They have been recorded Ughtly, however, and their effect upon the reader may POSTSCRIPT. 409 not be SO serious as that produced upon ray own raind by the circurastances which drew them forth ; but it is certain that had not the terrible and most ferocious plot against the King's Ufe given a character of horror to the acts of the republican party in France, I should be tempted to conclude my statement of all I have seen and heard of them by saying, that they had mixed too rauch of weak ness and of folly in their literature, in their politi cal acts, and in their general bearing and deraean- our, to be ever again considered as a forraidable eneray by the governraent. I was amused the other day by reading in an English newspaper, or rather in an extract from an Irish one, (The Dublin Journal,) a passage in a speech of Mr. Daniel O'Connell's to the "Dublin Trades' Union," the logic of which, allowing per haps a little for the weU-known peculiarities in the eloquence of the " Emerald Isle," reminded me strongly of sorae of the republican reasonings to which I have lately listened in Paris. " The House of Coraraons," says Mr. Daniel O'Connell, " wiU always be a pure and inde pendent body, because we are under the lash of our masters, and we will be kicked out if we do not perforra the duties imposed on us by the people." 410 POSTSCRIPT. Trifling as are the foregoing pages, and little as they raay seera obnoxious to any very grave critioisra, I ara quite aware that they expose rae to the reproach of having perraitted myself to be wrought upon by the " loind of doctrine." I will not deny the charge ; but I will say in defence of this " shadow of turning," (for it is in truth no more,) that I return with the sarae steadfast be lief which I carried forth, in the necessity of a go vernraent for every country which should possess power and courage to resist at aU tiraes the voice of a wavering populace, while its cares were steadily directed to the promotion of the general welfare. As well might every voice on board a seventy- four be lifted to advise the captain how to manage her, as the judgment of all the working classes in a state be offered on questions concerning her go vernraent. A self-regulating populace is a chiraera, and a dire one. The French have discovered this al ready ; the Araericans are beginning, as I hear, to feel sorae gliraraerings of this iraportant truth breaking in upon thera; and for our England, spite of all the trash upon this point that she has been pleased to speak and to hear, she is not a country Ukely to subrait, if the struggle should come, to be torn to pieces by her own raob. POSTSCRIPT. 411 Admirably, however, as this jury-raast of " the doctrine" appears to answer in France, where the whirlwind and the storra had nearly raade the brave vessel a wreck, it would be a heavy day for England were she to find herself compelled to have recourse to the sarae experiraent for safety — for the need of it can never arise without being accorapanied by a necessity for such increased severity of discipline as would be very distasteful to her. It is true, indeed, that her spars do creak and crack rather orainously just at present : never theless, it will require a tougher gale than any she has yet had to encounter, before she wiU be terapt ed to throw overboard such a noble piece of heart of oak as her constitution, which does in truth tower above every other, and, " like the tall mast of sorae proud adrairal," looks down upon those around, whether old or new, well-seasoned and durable, or only skilfully erected for the nonce, with a feeling of conscious superiority that she would be very sorry to give up. But whatever the actual position of England may be, it raust be advantageous to her, as weU as to every other country in Europe, that France should assume the attitude she has now taken. The cause of social order is a comraon cause throughout the civiUsed world, and whatever tends to promote it is a comraon blessing. Obvi- 412 POSTSCRIPT. OUS as is this ti-uth, its iraportance is not yet fully understood ; but the tirae raust corae when it will be, — and then all the nations of the earth will be heard to proclaim in chorus, that " Le pire des 6tats, c'est I'etat populaire." THE END. LONDON : PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, Dorset Sireet, Fleet Street. :.TB»:.Tst7:\ss;